#int. / eric speaking.

[eric-the-bmo]

HI wait actually?? Instruments of Cyanide by DAgames SO fits with my Illunous Creation theory. I’m so normal.

Like genuinely i think i figured out how the Illunous are created or maybe im just Insane <3

Bc the changelings dont know how the Illunous were made, yeah? But like. Typically in hivemind colonies the rulers are the creators of the rest of the colony.

And branching off the King Theodore theory- Theodore is a Nocker. He makes things.

I’m just saying, maybe the King needs a Nocker vessel in order to make more Illunous. idk idk the more i think about it the less it makes sense, like howd they even get there in the first place, but whatever lets go lets go

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION “Living Memory” [ 4.11 ]♮PART 2, half 2

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - KITCHEN - NIGHT

Liezel is seated at the kitchen table, organizing a recipe binder. She lifts her gaze when Nigel timidly enters the room, sitting up straighter when she realizes it’s him. It’s the first time in days that he’s seemed remotely interested in acknowledging her.

Nigel: Do you have a minute? Could we talk?

Although she’s nervous, Liezel nods, offering a shy smile.

Liezel: Yes. Yes, I’d like that very much.

Nigel mirrors the tentative smile, coming fully into the kitchen. He joins her at the table, sitting at the other end of the corner she’s against. For a moment, they’re silent, neither of them quite sure how to initiate. In Nigel’s whole life, they have almost never found themselves at odds like this.

Nigel: I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I’ve been disrespectful. Liezel: Thank you. I am glad we’re speaking now. And I am sorry that I have made you feel that you needed to act that way.

Nigel nods. That covers the basics, so they could just end it there… let bygones be bygones…

But Nigel doesn’t want a surface bandage. He wants it to actually heal. He clears his throat.

Nigel: I know I caught you off-guard, and that wasn’t fair to you. But the way you responded… Liezel: I know. I know, Nigel. Nigel: The arts aren’t your thing, and I get that. But you’ve always -- I always felt like you got me. That you supported what I was trying to do. Only the way you reacted about the UK, and some of the things you said -- Liezel: I know -- Nigel: Do you really not think I could do it? Are you always comparing me to my friends? Liezel: No. No, it isn’t that. And I should not have brought up Zay, I am sorry. When I said that, I wasn’t speaking on your ability. Nigel: Then why would you say that? Liezel: Because Zay Babineaux is not my child. Your friend is very talented, but whatever he achieves, or ends up going or doing -- that is of no concern to me. It is not my business. If he wants to transfer away, or travel the world, that has no impact on me. [ a beat ] You, on the other hand…

He is one of her babies. No matter how talented she thinks he is or isn’t, her urge to protect him will always be far stronger. It’s easy to loosen the reigns a bit and let him pursue a risky career when where he’s doing it is just down the street. The other side of the Atlantic, however…

Liezel: It’s not that I don’t trust in you, anak. It’s the world I don’t trust.

Nigel can’t change that. Neither of them can magically make the world a more promising place, or provide guarantees that all will work out how they want it. He can’t ease her worries; she can’t force him to stay. But if the opposite result is this, feeling a thousand miles apart even when they’re under the same roof…

Liezel: I didn’t realize that you were so unhappy. With your schooling. Nigel: I didn’t either, for a while. I tried to make it work, but… I think I need to see this idea through. I need to change. Liezel: [ with a teary nod ] It will be difficult for me. To accept that, and to get used to it. And just like NYU, we cannot give you as much assistance as we’d like. If you want to make this jump -- Nigel: I’ll have to make it happen on my own. I know. I figured as much. Liezel: I am sorry about that. But I do believe you can do it, if you set your brilliant mind to it. [ a beat ] And if you do…

Then who is she to stand in his way? She wishes he could be close forever, but it’s only because she loves him. And because she loves him, she has to be willing to set him free -- to let him spread his wings and soar on his own.

Nigel reaches across the table and takes her hand, which she eagerly squeezes in return.

Nigel: [ in Tagalog ] I love you, mama. I’ll earn your faith in me. Liezel: You don’t need to prove it.

It’s already his. Nigel beams, shaky with relief, and Liezel returns it.

INT. FUNERAL HOME - RECEPTION HALL - NIGHT

All of the guests have finally filed out, leaving just Jack, Eric, and Grace to clean up. She states more than once that the two of them don’t need to help, since this is far from their responsibility, but they insist.

Jack: We really don’t mind. Eric: Agreed. Not to mention it just seems ridiculous to fathom leaving you here alone. I wouldn’t leave any woman alone in this city at night. Jack: Make sure you get to your car safely. Eric: Yeah, and I’ll be fighting the urge to drive home behind you and make sure you get back to your front door. Jack: He’s not kidding. Compulsive caretaking. It’s a counselor thing.

Grace smiles, slightly awkward but undeniably charmed by their banter. It’s interesting to see them interact, to watch two adults connect so naturally with one another. Certainly not a feeling she’s personally familiar with…

Speaking of avoiding danger, Eric claims he’ll be the one to run the trash out to the bins. Grace doesn’t argue, allowing him to take the bag from her hands. Moments later, he’s on the move, leaving her and Jack alone in the reception hall.

Quiet settles between the two of them. Jack offers her a polite smile, which she returns. Sensing the need to fill the silence, Grace speaks.

Grace: Thanks again for everything. All the help you gave us through this. With the arrangements, and now… it’s just been a nice relief. Jack: Of course. Any time.  Grace: Eric, too. I know he doesn’t -- he doesn’t have the same relationship with Lucas that you do. So he doesn’t have a reason… but he still did. I appreciate that more than I can say. Jack: It’s not the same, no, but he’s still family. Our whole group dynamic is… interesting, to say the least, but Eric cares for him just as much as I do. And we’ll always be there to help whenever we can. [ with a smile ] Like I said, with him it comes naturally. Me, not so much -- and Lucas has called me on that frequently, believe me. But Eric has always been a caregiver. It’s in his blood.

It certainly is -- in a way it never has been for Grace. Jack’s comment is innocent, affectionate, but it has an unexpected impact. Like a trigger, something in Grace clicks off… and she can’t hold it together anymore. She turns away from Jack and tries to hide it, but suddenly she’s crying, the tears slipping down her cheeks faster than she can wipe them away.

She managed not to shed any the entirety of the funeral, and with one little comment, her resolve crumbles. Jack quickly recognizes her emotional shift, growing uncomfortable for a moment before doing his best to do damage control.

Jack: I’m sorry. Did I say something -- I didn’t mean to upset you. Grace: No, no. You didn’t. It’s not -- [ with an incredulous laugh ] All the chances to cry today, and this is what --

She huffs, wiping her cheeks with the heel of her palm. She takes a deep breath to try to compose herself, Jack waiting patiently and giving her space. Once she’s had a second to collect herself, she turns back slightly to face him, but keeps her gaze to the floor.

Grace: That was never me. I could never do that. The caring… that… instinct. I don’t have it. I didn’t. I’ve been a shitty mother, all the way through. I wasn’t one, really. Lucas knew that. [ with a shaky breath ] He’s always had to be the strong one. To be ready to be leaned on. Even today, he had to be here for me, and… I hate that. I hated that. He’s had to do so much on his own, do so much for me, and I never gave it back.

This confession feels more sorrowful than all the mourning. It’s a different kind of grief, far more palpable -- the loss of the functional family they never truly had. The ideal dynamic they would never achieve.

Grace: I couldn’t -- I could never give him what he needed. What he deserved. I mean, I didn’t -- [ choking on it ] I didn’t even want him. That didn’t change. And he knows that. I know he knows it. He deserved real parents, good ones, but instead he got -- and we were stuck with… and now it’s all just…

Now they’re here. Perhaps out of the woods, in some form, but just at the start of recovering. Barely one foot on the road to healing. Healing that feels impossible, with all this guilt and regret heavy on her shoulders.

Grace: I’m not a mother, but he’s a son. He didn’t get the choice not to be.

Jack sympathizes, even though he doesn’t personally understand the depth of it. He has his own complicated family dynamics, but nothing so complex as the Friars. But there is one difference he can speak to, that he tries to extend as a fraction of comfort.

Jack: I know what you mean. About… it’s hard to process. When my father passed away -- I mean, he was no Kenneth, but he was… a serious piece of work. Not to mention for most of my life, he was rarely around. Pros and cons to that, I suppose. But it’s okay for it to be complicated. It’s okay for it to take time.

Grace exhales, pressing her hands to her eyes. While she collects herself, Jack continues.

Jack: Maybe you weren’t the parent you thought you should be. Maybe you weren’t what Lucas wanted, or needed. You can’t change that now. That’s just… the fuck of it, life, and there isn’t anything we can do about it. But you did one thing right. Grace, skeptical: What? Jack: You were there. You stayed. Even if you weren’t at your best, or didn’t know what to do. Maybe it wasn’t… mother and son perfection, but you had each other. He knew you were there. That fact, to know that you’re not alone, is more important than you think.

Grace swallows a sob, pulling herself together and screwing her eyes shut. Trying to find her balance again, to let Jack’s words actually offer some comfort.

She’s not a mother, and she never will be. But she did what she could. She’s doing what she can now.

Jack: And you can’t beat yourself up over it forever. Life is too short -- surely today is reminder of that more than anything. It’s okay to forgive yourself, and stop holding it all against you. [ softly ] I know Lucas doesn’t anymore.

Jack would know, as he’s always gotten more from Lucas than she or Kenneth ever did. If he claims he’s forgiven her, that there’s no more anger, then he has to be telling the truth. Grace inhales a deep breath, then nods, offering Jack a watery smile.

Eric returns, gracefully ending the heavy moment and bringing some levity back into the space. Grace gently flicks the remaining tears away as Eric saunters back in, asking if they’re all good to head out.

Eric: Hopefully yes, because we’ll want to hit the road ASAP. It’s feeling like rain again.

INT. ZAY’S CAR - NIGHT

Charlie and Zay are doing just that, pulling up to the curb opposite Charlie’s building to drop him off.

It’s a process that feels hauntingly familiar. Zay behind the wheel, Charlie at ease in the passenger seat, thoughtful silence filling the empty space save for the nearly muted car radio. A routine they’ve danced what feels like a thousand times, with dozens of different conclusions.

And like usual, it feels wrong to let it end. Although Zay puts the car in park, and there’s nothing left to say but goodbye, neither of them make any move to get going. Zay glances at Charlie, then restlessly averts his gaze back out the dashboard window; Charlie keeps his gaze northward towards Central Park, the typical features of deep thought subtle on his face.

Zay: Well. Guess that’s that, then. Yet another insane development in this insane career path I’ve somehow convinced myself is a good idea. And with just about as much clarity as usual. Charlie: You’re one of the finalists. That’s good news. Zay: Yeah. I know. [ a beat ] I’m just like, do we really need to go through another round of waiting? I fucking hate waiting. Not to mention, again, it is so dramatic. Like, could they make this any more needlessly suspenseful? Charlie: Oh, come on. You know you kind of love it.

Charlie tilts his head to give him a look, seeing right through his bluster. Light smirk on his lips, tone effortlessly fond.

Because he knows him too well. Feels like he always has. Zay stares at him for a moment, out of practice with his easy banter but flushed with the realization of how much he missed it. For a moment, just a second, glancing at those lips…

Then he scoffs, shrugging and looking away.

Zay: Maybe. [ a beat, then defensive ] I’m just saying, I don’t remember when I agreed to getting edged by my fucking college.

Charlie’s smirk blooms into a grin. He shakes his head, amused, then lets it rest back against the headrest.

Quiet reigns again… at this rate, they might just sit there all night… Zay takes the opportunity while Charlie’s eyes are elsewhere to take him in, still surreal to see him in the passenger seat again. Different than before, but not for worse. New in necessary ways, but the same in every manner that matters.

And although every piece of him doesn’t want it to end, it must. The past is the past, and in the present, he doesn’t trust himself to be wise if he lets Charlie sit in his passenger seat much longer.

Zay: Well, anyway. Thanks for putting up with another shitshow. [ a beat ] I know you probably need to go, so -- Charlie: Do you wanna go for a walk?

For all that might be new, Charlie hasn’t lost his knack for subverting Zay’s expectations. The idea comes out of nowhere, chipper in that way Charlie gets sometimes where he follows his whims rather than common sense. It’s so random, Zay can’t help but stare in disbelief -- doubly so when Charlie turns his green eyes back on him.

Zay: Huh? Charlie: Do you wanna walk? I could go for a walk. Stretch my legs. Get some fresh air. Zay, bluntly: It’s almost eleven. And it’s supposed to rain. Charlie: And? [ with a twinkle in those eyes ] Don’t wait up.

If he wants to go, no big deal, but Charlie is taking a walk. He unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs out of the car, leaving the agency to follow in Zay’s corner.

Zay continues to gape at him, watching him go. He scoffs again, shaking his head in bewildered wonder…

Zay: [ under his breath ] Fucking hell.

He unbuckles his own seatbelt, killing the engine and climbing out of the car.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isa crashes onto their bed, makeup messy and hair messier. They’ve got a killer headache, not only caused by the alcohol, but the general stress of this hellish week. From this absolutely downer ending, to the even crazier start.

Though, suppose it wasn’t all hellish…

Too much to think about. They squeeze their eyes shut and rub their temples, trying to see if they can will it all away. The headache; the everything else.

No dice. It’s not going anywhere. After a moment, they let their hands fall onto the bed and open their eyes with a sigh. 

The emotions swirling around inside them aren’t going anywhere. They turn onto their side and stare at the space next to them. The space where, only a few nights ago and in a different bed, they could see Farkle laying next to them. See the rise and fall of his chest, hear his occasional soft snores (of course he’d be noisy even in rest)... reach out and run their hand through his hair, like it was always that easy…

Too much. Too much, too much, too much. They flop back onto their back and close their eyes again. It’s unsettling, feeling this much. It was rough when it was stuffed down, sure, but at least they could ignore it. They could pretend they had any control over anything, that they were stronger than their emotions. The tipsy, free-wheeling quality of their brain right now doesn’t help.

Don’t think about Farkle. Don’t think about Farkle. Don’t think…

Fuck it. It’s too late. Farkle isn’t going anywhere either. He’s engraved onto their mind, and no feeble distraction will erase him. The thoughts of him; the desire to touch him, to feel his body pressed against theirs. Isa fears nothing will ever replace that desire -- nothing will ever feel as good as when they were together. It’s scary, giving that much power and influence over to someone else.

But is it truly a bad thing?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Shameless” as performed by Camila Cabello || Performed by Isa De La Cruz

The guitar strums bring us into the performance, Isa opening their eyes and singing with a blank look as they stare up at the ceiling. They sit up and look back at the space beside them, where an imaginary Farkle once appeared to them and forced them to reconcile their emotions once before.

And now, he’s back again. Easy, knowing smile on his face. Just as comfortable as before, only updated in design to match how he is now -- no longer a remnant of the past, but a reminder of the very real present. A real and present desire; a real and pleasant danger.

In my dreams, I do anything I want to you My emotions are naked, they’re taking me out of my mind

Isa gets up and leaves the room, trying to get away from the mirage of Farkle before they can get too familiar with its presence.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - NIGHT

But he won’t just disappear. Isa passes by images of Farkle sitting on the couch eating pizza, loading the dishwasher in the kitchen, taking his shoes off at the door… he’s everywhere. As if he’s already embedded into their life -- the way they think they might want it. Isa hops out of the way when one of the Farkles walks past them, trying to keep out of his eyeline. 

They turn around and are faced with Farkle laughing, his eyes bright and smile wide. Isa freezes, unsure how to respond to the warmth the sight creates in them.

They rush to the door. 

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Isa stumbles out of the apartment building and onto the streets. They take a deep breath, trying to find their balance. One foot in front of the another, just like routine…

But before long, the obsession creeps back up on them. The faces of everybody walking by morph into Farkle’s, at first just a confusing glimpse -- then more consistent. Overwhelming, anxiety-driven thoughts bubble up whenever they see him, and whichever way they look, there he is, reminding them. Here, there, and everywhere.

It’s all there, now it’s real Now that you have me, do you want me still?

They slow their fast, frantic walking after a few more lines, though, the panic starting to calm as acceptance settles in. What are they really running from, actually? Do they want to flee this?

And I won’t erase it I need you more than I want to

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Isa reaches one of the shops that Farkle took them to when teaching them how to be rich back in senior year. They see the reflection of their younger selves in the window, wistful and reminiscent…

And when they look ahead of them again, present Farkle is back. He doesn’t look like an apparition, or a mutated version of a passerby. He’s just Farkle. The one they feel a magnetic pull towards, that’s reeling them in right now.

Distance, inches in between us I want you to give in, I want you to give in, oh

The one they know -- the one they know they love.

Isa looks up at Farkle in defiance, challenging him to take the next step, as he did to them. But he remains stalwart, teasingly resilient. Bizarrely put together these days when Isa has always relied on him being equally unhinged.

Weakness, tension in between us I just wanna give in…

Unable to take the tension anymore, Isa surrenders. They stand up on their tiptoes and pull Farkle down to meet their lips. 

And I don’t care if I’m forgiven

They kiss with just as much passion and intensity as their first, the camera rotating around to capture it. It picks up speed as it goes, dizzying, mirroring the whirlwind effect of finally breaking that tension…

When they break apart, for a moment, they just look at each other. Then Farkle grins.

Isa grabs Farkle’s hand, dragging him along and running with him. Keeping stride together this time, rather than running in opposite directions. While Farkle maintains direction, looking ahead at where they’re racing, Isa keeps getting distracted and letting their gaze drift back to him instead.

Right now I’m shameless Screamin’ my lungs out for ya

The faster everything seems to move, the more Isa struggles to keep up. They keep tripping up as they dodge the people around them, while Farkle remains focused on moving forward. To avoid a complete wipeout, Isa slows down --

And Farkle’s hand slips out of theirs. He looks back, confused, but the crowd of people on the streets sweep him away. Isa screams after him, left behind in the chaos, their hand still outstretched. 

INT. NYU APARTMENT - ISA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

In a blink, we’re back in their bedroom, Isa still sitting on their bed. Looking at where Farkle should be, their hand instinctively outstretched. They blink, stunned, unable to hold back the tears that slip past their best defenses.

They have him, but they could lose him again. It could be all too easy.

Unless they say the things they need to say. What Farkle needs to know.

Upset, overwhelmed, and confused, Isa does the only thing that makes sense in that moment. The only thing their addled brain can think to do.

They get out their phone.

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Maria” as performed by Canadian Brass || Instrumental

The West Side Story orchestra from earlier echoes as an underscore as the scene progresses, floating over the peaceful evening. Zay and Charlie meander their way back down the street towards his building, laughter bubbling between the two of them as they wrap up whatever conversation they were having on their late-night traipse through Central Park. Silly and insane as the suggestion was, it seems to have loosened them up. A sensation Zay can appreciate, given how tense the entire night has been. 

Even in spite of the weather. As they’ve been walking, it’s started to mist, the gentle warning of a promised storm.

They arrive a few feet away from his front steps, slowing to a stop with their hands in their pockets. Just a couple of pals, standing in their nice dress wear in the middle of a sidewalk after eleven. Classic.

Charlie: Well, thanks for the ride. Or walking me home, technically, I guess. Zay: Only because you’re a basket case. Seriously, when did you pick up this funky little habit of dancing around in the rain? How do you not have like, chronic pneumonia?

Charlie shrugs. Guilty as charged.

Charlie: It’s just a drizzle. Zay: Anyway, I wasn’t going to let you wander around the park at night by yourself. For real, what happened to the guy who was terrified of taking the subway by himself at like six at night? Is that paranoid, self-preserving man in the room with us?

At that, Charlie snorts.

Charlie: I think we should be glad “that guy” stopped being afraid of everything that moved. [ with another shrug ] I guess he grew up.

Yeah… yeah, he did, didn’t he? That’s been the feeling all night, this strange echo haunting them. It’s not mournful, though, or unsettling. It’s just… different. Different, but the same. A ghost that never died; a living memory.

Whichever time feels more prominent, it doesn’t make it any easier for Zay to look away from him. Charlie has to break the spell, clearing his throat and reiterating his gratitude for the favor.

Zay: It’s the least I could do, given everything I’ve dragged you along to in the last month. All of that mutual support bullshit. Charlie: Ah, right. The foundation of any good dancer.

Zay offers a shrug of his own, going for breezy.

 Zay: What are friends for?

Yes… friends… right, right. As if to accent the point, thunder rumbles above them in the distance, signaling that rain is coming any minute now. It’s probably time to say goodbye, share their goodnights, before the downpour.

Still, neither of them move.

Charlie: You never finished telling me about that, by the way. Zay: About what? Charlie: Your audition speech. Successful audition speech, might I add. Zay: Oh, yeah. Well… you know. I just made something up. Talked out of my ass, like I always do. Charlie: [ not buying it ] Well, even if that’s the case, it worked. Finalist.

For now. Still one more hill to climb before he knows where he’ll be… Charlie still assumes there must be some deeper well of inspiration that Zay was pulling from, because he highly doubts he just pulled something that meaningful out of nowhere.

Charlie: You act like you don’t think about this kind of stuff that deeply -- Zay: Not everyone is like you. Charlie: No one is, I’m aware. I have problems. But you have your moments. Especially when it’s about the stuff that matters -- when it really counts.

Charlie would know -- he was on the receiving end of plenty of his most thoughtful moments. Zay can’t brush him off so easily.

For a fleeting moment, Zay debates telling the truth. Confessing exactly what it was that made his whole world’s foundation so simple to define; who taught him the living, breathing definition of unconditional support in the first place. How he’s looking right at him, feeling all the same things that struck him like lighting on the stage in the middle of his post-audition interview.

But that’s not how things are. They’ve grown up; time has marched on without him.

So he swallows the longing and offers the best alternative he can scrounge together.

Zay: I’m just… really trying to appreciate the people I’m lucky to have in my life. I know I wouldn’t be where I am today without them.

Not the whole story, but a good one. A half-truth. The eye contact between them feels loaded, even if neither of them will put it into words.

Charlie: Yeah. Yeah… me too.

It’s like a strange game of chicken. Wondering which one of them might break first -- if either of them even realize they’re playing.

They might just stand there and stare at each other forever, but the first drop of rain disrupts the static and brings them back to reality. It’s not really falling yet, but any minute now…

Charlie blinks up at the sky then offers Zay a smile, reluctantly claiming he should get inside. Spare him the bad weather.

Zay: Yeah, for sure. Thanks again for coming. Charlie: Of course. Any time.

There’s no doubt he means it. Zay mirrors his smile, restless on his feet. Gripped with the sense that it’s wrong to just leave it like that, that as best friends they surely could exchange something more than a stilted peace out.

So he offers a hand, at least extending an offer of something more. Charlie laughs awkwardly and takes it, turning it into something more like a high-five.

And then it’s a hug. Neither one could say who started it, or how it became one, but once they drift even incrementally in that direction they fall together like dominos. Their bodies just naturally come together, responding to their own personal magnetism.

And though the hug starts casual, friendly, it lingers far too long to be just that. While they’re so close, wrapped in a warm embrace so achingly familiar yet damningly rare, there’s no reason to pretend. Even though they can’t see it, the perfect place to hide in each other’s shoulders, we can see it plain as day. The way their expressions shift, muscles relaxing and nerves tingling all at once. Both of them closing their eyes and letting it linger, both excusing it just enough to absorb whatever they can get.

When they finally start to pull back, they don’t get very far. For a brief, torturous second, they stop a little too close for casual comfort, noses nearly brushing. Only centimeters apart, once again finding themselves trapped in an all too familiar dance…

Until the universe intervenes. The rain becomes difficult to ignore, sprinkling their jackets as it starts to fall in consistent drops. They pull apart fully as Zay cusses under his breath, both of them glancing up at the rain as if that’ll make it go away.

It doesn’t. The rain continues on undeterred, so Charlie clears his throat.

Charlie: Okay, well. I’ll let you go. Zay: Right. Thanks again. Charlie: Yeah. [ starting to walk away ] See you later. Zay: Yep. For sure.

Charlie smiles, letting that promise be his final offering as he turns and heads up the steps to his building. Zay watches him go, in no rush to get back to his car in spite of how his usual instincts would have him bolting at the first drop of rain. He isn’t sure what he’s waiting for.

Well, that part of Zay is stupid, whatever it is. It can’t seem to get the memo from reality. The past is the past -- this is how things are now. Time moved on. He has to be okay with that. Both of them do.

Charlie makes it to his front door, glancing back over his shoulder one more time. When he sees Zay is still there, he smiles brighter, a hint of shyness back in his features.

Then he disappears into the lobby, leaving Zay behind.

Once he’s gone, there’s truly no reason to stand there holding his breath. Zay manages to convince himself to turn around, stuffing his hands back in his pockets and dragging his feet back to the car. 

The night is over. This is over. Time to go…

Only after a few more steps, Zay stops.

What is he doing? Why the hell is he walking away, putting his hands up in surrender like he has no choice? This isn’t going to change; he already tried that idea. He knows how he feels -- he hasn’t stopped feeling this way since they truly became friends.

He’s in love with Charlie. He loves him, but Charlie isn’t going to know that if he keeps walking away. He isn’t going to know how much he wants him -- that he’s spending every second they’re together holding himself by a thread wishing he could break the rules -- if he continues to hold his breath and hold his tongue and wait for the universe to make it happen for him.

Maybe he’ll miss his chance; maybe Charlie won’t feel the same way. That’s life. At least he’ll have given it his all. At least he’ll have tried.

Zay said he was done waiting. So what the hell is he doing?

Seized with conviction, heart pounding, Zay changes direction. He spins back around, fully intent to march up the steps to Charlie’s building and chase after him.

It’s not necessary. Because at the same moment he whips around, Charlie returns, stepping back out into the night. He scans the sidewalk, assuming he’ll have to look hard, but it only takes him a second to spot Zay again. He didn’t go far.

He isn’t going anywhere.

For an eternal second, frozen in time, they lock eyes. Seeing and being seen, speaking the same language with absolutely no words at all.

Zay starts back up the sidewalk. Charlie descends the steps.

Finally, they meet in the middle. They come back together, in the middle of the rain, and after one last moment of before…

They kiss. With equal agency, equal desire, and no hesitation. Back in sync, a perfectly crafted pas de deux.

Once they break to catch their breath, they stay close, foreheads pressed together and eyes closed. Soaking up the moment like the downpour, submerging in the allure of one another, already more than certain they’re going to dive in for another one.

But first, Charlie has a quick question.

Charlie, breathless: Does this mean you still like me? Zay: Fucking hell, Charlie.

He lets his next kiss answer the question for him, leaving no room for confusion. Charlie returns it, unable to hold back his grin, pulling Zay in closer.

The next time they pull apart, they end up falling into a playful, instinctive sway, because it’s impossible not to dance when their bodies come together.

That’s how it’s supposed to be.

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

Farkle returns home after his evening performance, looking about ready to crash. He checks his phone before he goes to change, pausing when he sees he’s got a missed call and new voicemail. Given it’s from Isa, and it’s late, he figures something must have happened.

When he presses play and starts to listen, though, it’s not at all what he expects.

Isa: [ through voicemail ] Um… hey. It’s Isa. Sorry to call so late -- though I guess it’s not that late for you. Yet. Fucking time zones. I just, um --

The sound is muffled as Isa presumably adjusts, but Farkle has already picked up a few tells. Their voice is slurring slightly, and also wobbly, which either means they’re tipsy, or crying. Or both. And from the hesitation in their delivery, they’re clearly processing a lot and worried about how it’s going to come out.

A lot like how rejection sounds. Farkle braces himself, feeling his stomach drop. But he braves listening on.

Isa: It has been such a fucking… it’s a shitshow, and it’s a lot. Everything has been a lot. The funeral was so… and I’m just feeling really… but I wanted to talk to you. I really, really need to talk to you. Because if I don’t tell you, then you’ll never know, and then everything is going to get all messy and go to shit. I don’t want this to go to shit. So -- fuck -- 

Here it comes. Farkle closes his eyes.

Isa: I love you.

Hold. The. Fuck. Up.

Farkle’s eyes fly open, wide with surprise.

Isa: Oh my God, that’s insane. But -- fuck, but it’s true. It’s so damn true. Farkle, I love you. And that is the most terrifying shit ever, like I am scared shitless about it, but I also can’t… not. Believe me, I’ve tried. And after what we did the other night, when that just like, confirmed everything, now it’s like --

Cautiously, Farkle settles onto his bed, moving in slow motion. Like if he makes any sudden movements, this version of reality will shatter, and he’ll wake up from whatever deeply vivid dream he’s been having.

Isa: I just… really fucking miss you. Even though I just saw you. And I feel like that all the time, like all the damn time. Which is how I know, because I don’t like anyone else that much to want to be with them all the fucking time. I just wished you were here, and then it got all overwhelming in my head, but… [ with a deep breath ] That’s the fuck of it all. I love you. I’m in love with you. So, uh… yeah. Okay, I’m ending this before I make it any worse. See you soon. Bye.

The call ends abruptly, no graceful landing. But boy, did it make its impact. Farkle is dumbstruck, not sure if what he just heard is actually even real.

Someone loves him. Someone is actually in love with him. Isa De La Cruz, of all people, just told him that they love him.

Compulsively, Farkle goes back and starts the voicemail over. Needing to confirm it happened; wanting to hear it said all over again.

Isa: [ through voicemail ] Um… hey. It’s Isa. 

Finally, a breathless smile blossoms onto Farkle’s face. He falls onto his back and hides his face under his arms, letting Isa’s voice continue to play and assert their affections all over again.

INT. YINDRA’S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT

Meanwhile, Yindra isn’t as giddy. Although the situation with Aleena worked out all right, something is still nagging at her. She’s contemplative as she sits on her bed and flips through her songwriting notebook.

After another minute, it seems to hit her. She opens her phone and digs through her email to find a contact sheet, then enters a new phone number into the call app.

Wrestling up her courage, she hits dial.

INT. BAR - NIGHT

The first shift of the evening is kicking off at a local, trendy bar. Ronica is behind the counter, prepping for a busy night, when her phone buzzes in her pocket. She checks the screen and doesn’t recognize the number, shrugging it off and placing it on the countertop to see if it’ll go to voicemail.

It does. She swipes it open to listen and grows intrigued. Stepping around the counter, she tells her coworker she’ll be back in a second and heads outside, dialing the callback number.

EXT. BAR - NIGHT

Yindra picks up the phone as Ronica steps out into the brisk Los Angeles evening, the conversation intercut between the two of them.

Yindra: Hello? Ronica: Hey. It’s Ronica. You called? Yindra: Yeah. Yeah, hi. [ a beat ] It’s Yindra. From the girl group thing. Ronica: I know. You said so in your voicemail. Yindra: Oh… right. Yeah.

Right then. Ronica glances over her shoulder towards the bar, then crosses her arms.

Ronica: So, is there a reason you wanted to talk to me, or? Yindra: Um, yeah. Sorry to call out of the blue -- I was thinking I’d send a text, but I felt like this would be better to say in person. Or like, vocally. Not through text, where you can’t get the tone right. Ronica: Okay… Yindra: I just wanted to say that I’m like, sorry. For how -- for how weird I’ve been at the auditions. Ronica: You were being weird? Yindra: I’m not normally like -- usually I’m not as competitive as I’ve been acting. Or… cold. Just being all like I’ve got a stick up my ass. I’m not that kind of person. Especially not towards people who are just as talented as me. I didn’t want you to think I was like, a diva or whatever.

Ronica listens attentively, somewhat surprised Yindra is bothering to clarify.

Ronica: Noted. But I don’t see how my opinion of you should matter all that much. Competition is what they want from us, you know. Yindra: I know. I know that’s what they want, and that’s kind of what’s grinding my gears about it all. If we -- if I -- get this shot, I don’t want to go into it with all this aged ground beef. You know what I mean? I don’t want to be the reason the group starts off on the wrong foot, or there’s some drama. I’d be trying to make it a sisterhood, not a bloodbath. Ronica, amused: Sometimes, that’s one in the same. But I hear you. Yindra: I want to be known for the opposite. For being someone you wanna work with. I don’t want to start my career, however long or short it may be, feeling the need to cut a sister down. [ a beat ] So, yeah. That’s all I wanted to say. I respect you, you’ve got hella pipes, and I hope shit works out for you.

Ronica’s been in this business for a bit, and even she’s cracking a smile. There’s something refreshing about Yindra’s authenticity, her desire to do things right, no matter how naive it may feel.

Ronica: Well, thanks. I appreciate it. And ditto.

Yindra smiles too, finally relaxing. Ronica claims she has to go back to work, but she wishes Yindra luck. Hopefully both of them will make the cut, but if not, it’s been nice getting to see her talent even if only briefly. Yindra sincerely returns the compliment.

Once they hang up, Yindra sighs, feeling a thousand times lighter.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

It’s early morning now, and based on the state of his bedroom, it appears Zay and Charlie have been quite busy. Whatever they were up to, the frenetic energy has passed, a serene calm permeating the space.

For now, Zay is on his own, half-undressed and reclined back against the headboard. He’s idly gazing around the room, getting a real look. It’s the first time he’s been in Charlie’s new bedroom -- the first time he’s been in a room Charlie was free to actually make his own. That feels distinctly like him, rather than a presentation or collage of what he’s supposed to appear to be.

And God, does it feel so, so good. Zay smiles to himself, inhaling deeply and releasing a content exhale.

To his pleasure, Charlie doesn’t leave him alone for long. He returns moments later, equally as stripped down (no longer “dressed,” that’s for sure) and carrying a glass of water. He notices Zay’s dreamy expression, automatically matching his grin.

Charlie: What are you smiling about?

What a dumb question. As if you don’t know, Charlie… but Zay isn’t going to just hand him the satisfaction of hearing the answer anyway. He shrugs, theatrically gazing around the room again.

Zay: Me? Nothing… nah, I was just thinking how nerdy this room is. Big AND energy in here. You remember what that means, right?

Oh, please… Charlie rolls his eyes, but damn, if he can’t stop smiling. He literally can’t help himself. Not when Zay is teasing him like that again, when he’s in his bed and in his space and everything feels like it’s back where it belongs.

Well, almost. He’s not nearly close enough. Charlie shuts the door and climbs onto the bed to join Zay, kneeling opposite him and handing him the water. Better.

Charlie: I remember, yes. Zay: It’s acute nerd disorder. Just in case you forgot. Charlie: Drink your water, bastard.

He’s pretty sure he needs it, after the last couple hours. Zay smirks but obliges, taking a long sip of the water. Charlie simply watches him for a long moment, taking in the view, then waits for him to place the glass on the nightstand before speaking again.

Charlie: Are you done teasing me now? Because -- Zay: Am I done? Doing the very thing that gives purpose to my being, that sends serotonin through my veins? Charlie: Okay, okay -- Zay: Am I done teasing Charles John Paul Gardner? That’s offensive. The answer is never. And you should be so lucky. I will never be done. We will never be done.

Ain’t that the truth, on so many levels. Charlie keeps laughing, trying to redirect, but it’s so hard when everything feels so light and Zay is so good at what he does.

Finally, he manages though. He leans forward and presses a hand to Zay’s mouth just long enough to get him to shut up so he can get his attention.

Charlie: Because if you could give me like five seconds, there’s something I really need to say to you.

All right, attention earned. Zay backs down, curious and the slightest bit apprehensive.

Zay: Oh, yeah?

Charlie nods, waiting a moment to confirm Zay is actually going to be quiet before he braves opening his mouth again. He scoots forward a bit and steals another good long look at him, taking it all in -- a light brush of his thighs, the curve of his collarbone, the shine in his brown eyes. Committing it all to memory, this one brief moment of bliss, just in case it all goes wrong or the universe collapses the instant he speaks. 

For one last second, holding Zay’s gaze and cupping his face in his hands, Charlie hesitates. Because he’s thought about it for so long, stood on the precipice of this moment so many times, he isn’t wholly convinced the words will come out no matter how badly and how ready he is to say them.

But the worries are unfounded. They come out soft, sure, delicate only because of their deep sincerity.

When Charlie sets his truth free, this time, there’s nothing holding it back.

Charlie: I love you.

And Zay hears it. He hears it crystal clear, feels it in every nerve in his body, releasing every lingering doubt and tension like a key finally clicking into place. Even though he already knew -- he knew the whole time, always had faith, even with no words at all.

But there’s nothing quite like hearing it said. No barriers, no pretensions, just him and Charlie and his touch reverent on his face.

Charlie: I loved you then. The whole time. I love you now. And the truth is, I cannot imagine any version of reality where I don’t.

Okay, he came to say it, and man, did he deliver. Zay tries to stay cool, but he can feel his throat getting thick. Not that Charlie would remotely care if he got emotional -- he’d probably do the same, if the roles were reversed. Given how long he’s been waiting, it might be more concerning if he felt nothing.

But he does. It feels like heaven -- it’s everything.

So Zay keeps it simple, avoiding the chance to embarrass himself. He reaches forward and touches the chain around Charlie’s neck, no longer tucked away beneath his shirt… fingering his class ring dangling on the end.

Zay: Yeah?

Charlie nods, smile light and effortlessly fond.

Charlie: Yeah. [ brightening ] And you better get used to it, because now I am gonna say it all the time.

Zay scoffs a laugh, raising his eyebrows.

Zay: Oh, yeah -- Charlie: Mhm. [ nodding ] I love you.

He pulls him closer and kisses his cheek. Then he says it again, before pressing a brisk kiss to his other cheek. Then he’s peppering his face with kisses all over, gleefully telling him over and over exactly how he feels. Zay cracks up, playfully wrestling with him and telling him to stop even though there is absolutely nowhere and nothing he’d rather be than in this moment.

Charlie obeys the joking directive though, backing off in their fit of giggles just so he can get another good look at him. To really take it all in -- the closeness, the relief, the sense of being so, so happy.

And he got here by himself, put in the hard work, sweat, and tears to make it to this point… but it all started because of one unbelievable, one-of-a-kind man. Still holding his face, Charlie shakes his head lightly, looking at Zay with all the devotion one soul can hold.

Charlie, softly: [ with awe ] Isaiah Babineaux.

He is going to be the death of Zay -- but for all the best reasons this time.

Zay takes his cross necklace again and pulls him in his direction, impatiently stealing a kiss. It melts into another one, languid and indulgent, thoroughly enjoying the reward of having made it back to each other.

That is, until Zay’s phone buzzes on the nightstand. He’s content to ignore it -- whoever is texting him in the middle of the night can surely wait until morning -- but it buzzes again and demands attention.

Charlie: Are you gonna check that? Zay: Fuck no.

Zay accents the point with another kiss, clumsy with Charlie’s laughter. He allows it for a moment longer before the phone buzzes again, Charlie pulling apart first this time as Zay groans in annoyance.

Zay: It is like one in the morning, who the hell -- Charlie: Zay, just check it. It’s fine. [ holding his gaze ] I’m not going anywhere.

He means it. Zay examines him, Charlie’s thumb stroking his jaw, not sure if he has the willpower to let him go even for a second… but he relents with a sigh, grumbling as he reaches to grab his phone. Charlie backs off temporarily to give him a second, running a hand through his messy hair.

The texts are innocuous -- just Riley and Yindra both congratulating him for the finalist win -- but that’s not what catches his attention. He has a missed call from about an hour ago, and a voicemail from the same number. Expecting spam, he quickly swipes to the message and lifts the phone to his ear, hoping for a quick delete so he can get back to what’s really important.

But it’s not a spam call. Whatever it is on the other end, it gets Zay’s attention fast. He grows serious, then frowns slightly as he listens more deeply, instinctively climbing to his feet and pacing a few steps. Charlie watches him, curious and slightly concerned based on his shift in demeanor.

When the voicemail concludes, Zay’s silent, letting whatever he heard sink in. Charlie waits for him to meet his eyes, raising his eyebrows. What’s up?

Zay: You remember I -- I went on all those auditions? [ off his nod ] That was one of the producers of Jagged Little Pill. They liked me.

Charlie’s eyes widen. Holy smokes. He starts to open his mouth to congratulate him, to question why the hell Zay seems remotely hesitant when that sounds like amazing news -- but Zay beats him to it.

Zay: They want me to join the tour.

Tour. As in, touring production.

As in, not in New York.

It’s an amazing offer and opportunity, but it means leaving and going who knows where -- away from here. Away from him.

Charlie processes that information, expression dimming slightly to match Zay’s as they both absorb what exactly that means.

So what the hell is he -- are they -- going to do now?

INT. NYU - HILL’S OFFICE - DAY

A couple of days later, PROFESSOR HILL is catching up on work in between classes. She hardly looks up when there’s a light knock on her door.

Hill: Office hours aren’t until 4PM. Riley: I know. I thought you might make an exception.

Hill lifts her head, demeanor shifting when she recognizes it’s Riley. She settles back in her office chair.

Hill: Ah, Riley. Come on in. And shut the door, please.

Riley does so, following her directives and arriving in front of her desk. She stays standing, clasping her hands together in front of her and calmly awaiting more.

Hill finishes up her work and directs her attention to Riley, striking a careful balance between compassionate professor and frustrated director.

Hill: I’m sorry something happened at the last show. Did everything turn out all right? Riley: It did. Thank you. Hill: That’s good. I’m glad it wasn’t something more serious.

Not that Riley has provided remotely any details beyond “family emergency.” With that out of the way, and confirmation that she’s not about to be insensitive, the director side takes over.

Hill: You do realize how unprofessional it was to step out at the last-minute, with no warning and no direct communication. To say I was surprised to see Imogen take the stage instead of you and only get clarity from Evan during intermission would be an understatement. Riley: I understand it can be taken that way, yes. I’m sorry I didn’t have the chance to check in with you before it happened. But in all fairness, I do think that sort of goes hand-in-hand with the term “emergency.”

Despite her emotional mistreatment, boy did Topanga prepare Riley well for a moment such as this. Although Hill is clearly disappointed and irritated with her behavior, Riley remains level-headed, polite, and grounded in her opinion. She isn’t going to be guilt-tripped or swayed into submission here. In some ways, it’s a testament to how much she’s grown as an individual.

Hill: I suppose so. But I’ve had peers who went on even under such circumstances. I’ve had friends who took to the stage even when they felt on the brink of collapse. The show must go on. Riley: Yeah, I have a friend who was like that too. He tore his tendon and almost ended his career at eighteen. Thankfully, he’s better about that now. Hill: I respect that you made a choice, what you felt was best in the moment. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a disappointment. And it does effect my perception of you, and how seriously you take this work. A true artist wouldn’t let such things get in the way of their obligation to perform. Riley: I understand that definition of “artist” exists, yes. I’m not sure I subscribe to it myself.

They’ll have to agree to disagree. If this changes how Professor Hill views her, or her prospects in the future in Tisch productions, so be it. She doesn’t regret the choice she made -- and for all she knows, it’s just as likely she won’t be here next year for any of it to matter.

So Hill’s disappointment clearly means little. She isn’t going to make her change her mind.

Hill, curtly: Well, lucky for everyone, the production is almost over. So soon you’ll have the freedom to direct your energies elsewhere, since you don’t seem too committed to this now.

Riley takes the dig, not commenting further. She thanks Professor Hill for her time and states she’ll see her at the next call time for one of their last performances, then graciously takes her leave.

INT. NYU - TISCH SCHOOL OF THE ARTS - DAY

Riley emerges from the office and shuts the door behind her, releasing an exhale. She held her ground, without reservation, but that doesn’t mean it was easy. People-pleasing instincts are hard to shake.

As she starts to head down the hall, who should she run into but Evan. He greets her cheerfully, and she returns it. When she mentions she’s just heading to her next class across campus, Evan claims he’s also heading out of the building, so he’ll walk with her.

They chat as they go, Riley making sure to apologize once more for catching him off-guard the other night.

Riley: It wasn’t at all my intention to throw everyone off, least of all you. I hope everything went smoothly on stage. Evan: We held it together, yeah. Gotta admit, I don’t think Imogen and I have the same chemistry you and I do, but such is the gamble of understudies. [ a beat ] She doesn’t hold a candle to your Molly.

That’s sweet, if a bit shady to Imogen. Riley smiles lightly, elbowing him. After a beat, Evan continues.

Evan: How about you? With how fast you ran out -- I mean, did everything turn out okay? Riley: It did. As well as it could, given the circumstances. Either way, I’m glad I was able to be there. I could tell it really helped Lucas.

Right… they push through the doors --

EXT. NYU - CAMPUS - DAY

Riley gets halfway through saying a chipper goodbye when Evan interjects, surprising her with another question.

Evan: And you’re okay too, right? Riley: Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Evan: Okay. I just -- you left really suddenly that night. You seemed kind of frantic. It didn’t seem like… I mean, don’t you think it’s a little weird of Lucas to expect you to just drop everything? Stuff you think is important, because he wants you somewhere else?

Riley clams up slightly, suddenly sensing she needs to tread cautiously. Even so, she remains impressively calm on the outside.

Riley: Lucas didn’t expect me to do anything. I chose to go. Evan: Okay. Riley: In fact, if you must know, he wanted me to stay here. He wouldn’t have expected me to be there at all. He told me so. Evan: Okay. I’m glad to hear that. Riley: It was my decision to leave. Lucas had no influence over it. It was my call. And I don’t regret the choice I made.

Sorry if that feels inconsiderate, or unprofessional, but it’s the truth. Evan can tell he’s treading close to a nerve, and doesn’t want to upset her, but somehow all of that just makes him even more uncertain. He’s never been in a serious relationship, so he wouldn’t know, but is it normal to get this defensive over a simple question?

Evan: I only wanted to make sure you were okay. You can tell me if you aren’t, at any time. You know?

Again, sweet, but so, so misplaced. Riley offers him a smile, but it’s tight. She holds his gaze, though, not backing down or shying away from her next words.

Riley: I am good, Evan. Never better, actually. So you can save your concern. I’m fine.

And you can mind your own business. Evan raises his hands in surrender, taking her at her word. He said his piece, put himself out there as a lifeline, and that’s all he can do.

Riley isn’t remotely interested in being rescued, though. She doesn’t need it. She tells Evan she’ll see him around and descends the steps onto the main sidewalk, striding off to her next class. Evan watches her go, certain that didn’t go how he wanted it, but not sure if it could’ve gone any better.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - HR OFFICE - DAY

Josh is facing a similar uncomfortable conversation, sitting opposite a lead HR REPRESENTATIVE with Justin in a chair to his right. They’re addressing the “incident” from earlier, making sure the air is cleared before everyone gets back to work. Josh is slouched low in his seat, obviously disdainful of being there going through the motions and absolutely unable to look at Justin next to him.

Justin, on the other hand, is being charming as ever. Cracking jokes, assuring HR he has no issue with Josh, doesn’t plan to raise this issue any higher. They’ve talked it out, Josh is getting his talking to, and he’s got access to additional care if he needs it. Far as he sees it, that’s all that’s needed.

Justin: I don’t know about you fellas, but I for one am just ready to put this all behind us and get back to making some sweet, sweet music. Am I right, Joshie?

Josh has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn’t know how he ever found his boss likable. He can barely stomach his nonchalant attitude, as if everything is fine. As if he did nothing wrong.

Because as far as most people know, he didn’t. That’s the beauty of how this enabling, self-shielding industry operates. And that function is clearly alive and well at Global Beat, where Justin has comfortably and effectively entrenched himself into the machinery.

Justin may be ready to move on, but the HR representative has more words of warning for Josh. He cautions that while they can let one mishap like this slide, due to his long-standing good reputation within the company, they cannot overlook an incident like this again. Such volatile behavior and violence is not how Global Beat rolls, and they want to employ people who hold the high company values and standards that they do.

HR Rep: So perhaps you should think long and hard about whether you’re the right fit for Global Beat.

Not to worry, HR. That’s all Josh has been thinking about for days. Increasingly, the more he sits here and fights the urge to either implode on himself or tear everything around him to shreds, he has the sinking suspicion he knows what the answer is going to be.

They don’t share the same values. Not at all. Justin grinning in the seat next to him proves it.

Josh: Yeah. I think I should.

With that, they’re dismissed. Justin skips his way out first, telling Josh he’ll catch him back at the offices.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - HALLWAY - DAY

Josh is in no hurry to follow -- wondering if he even should at all. He’s approached his metaphorical line in the sand, and now he has to decide which side he wants to be on.

What is all of this for, really? What does he really stand for? Has any of it been worth it?

Is it worth his soul?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Come Hang Out” as performed by AJR || Performed by Josh Matthews

The camera slows as the synth kicks up, the voices of Josh’s friends echoing as the backing vocal as the song begins. He looks down the hall towards where Justin is going, back to the way things have always been. Entrenched in the status quo.

On the first utterance of the end of the opening chorus, Josh spins away and heads in the opposite direction, buying himself more time.

I’ll be there next time, I’ll be there next time

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - HALLWAYS - DAY

Josh launches into the first verse as he makes his way through the maze of the upper echelons of the company, walking amidst the glitz of certified platinum records, executive offices, and framed posters of successful acts under their record label.

All the things Josh was so certain he wanted, that he has been dreaming about since he was a kid messing with MP3s on his chunky desktop computer in Philly. Part of the reason he’s ended up where he is now, reflecting on all the missed social scenes and insatiable creative ambition.

All of my life I have been starving Not for a dinner with friends, more of a starving artist

As he makes it to the end of the hall and almost turns the corner, he finds many of his friends and loved ones waiting for him on the other side -- Andrew, JASMINE, AMY MATTHEWS and ALAN MATTHEWS. Imploring him to take a break, to gain some perspective through the chorus.

But he wasn’t ready to hear it. Not quite yet. So he stammers out the excuse that bookends the chorus and escapes again, heading down the stairs --

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - HALLWAYS - DAY

Josh takes temporary refuge in the floor below, the financial offices of the label. On his right is a wall of tall windows, showing him the gilded view of Hollywood around him. Where he always thought he was destined to be, meant to thrive.

Even in the sunny glow of such a scene, this is where the willful delusion starts to wear thin. Josh starts to confront the realities that have been casting a shadow over him the entire time he’s worked at Global Beat. The reveal about Justin is a huge factor, yes, but there were always issues.

Last album sales could’ve been higher Maybe that’s why I haven’t seen friends in a while

He’s overworked, and underpaid. He’s been a loyal assistant and junior producer for years, yet hasn’t found any upward mobility. He has to sacrifice so much creativity for profit, for whatever “trend” is clicking this month. His bosses are happy to puff him up, but they won’t put him out there.

All the hours and creative energy spent, often for nothing.

He gets reminded of this strongly enough when the chorus comes again and he reaches the end of this corridor, where some recently certified big hits are listed on the wall. Sure enough, “LolliPop” is there -- credited to everyone but him.

I’ll be there next time, I’ll be there next time…

But will he?

Josh turns away from it, hitting the stairs again as the chorus repeats.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - STAIRWELL - DAY

He races down the stairs in slow motion through the second repetition of the chorus, not sure where he’s going to stop. Is he going to brave going back to his floor, going back to before and swallowing the cognitive dissonance -- or is he going to keep walking right out the door?

For now, he isn’t quite there. Not yet. He stops on his usual floor and pushes through the door --

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - HALLWAY - DAY

Taking the long way back to the offices, weaving through the recording studios as we ease into the bridge. The music quiets, and Josh does his best to hold his emotion together as he takes the death march back towards Justin and Melissa…

Until he spots something that makes him stop in his tracks. He doubles back towards the open studio door he just passed, eyes wide.

It’s not the usual Global Beat digs on the other side of the doorway. Instead, he’s seeing the past -- the confined, cozy but stifling interior of his childhood bedroom in Philly. At the desk opposite the door, a fresher, younger JOSH MATTHEWS (17) is at his electric keyboard, playing the keys of the bridge as he painstakingly and obsessively works on building some of his first amateur tracks. Messy dark hair still stuffed under a beanie, lithe frame still compulsively bent over his keyboards (piano and laptop), cheaper, more affordable headset over his ears. Just as hyper-focused as ever, probably skipping on dinner to get this last detail right.

But he’s happy. He’s energized, creatively stimulated, free to follow his dreams and trust his instincts. The thing motivating him to spend all that time at the keys isn’t money, or credit, or fame. It’s passion, pure and simple, a deep and unwavering love for music -- what brought Josh out here to chase this dream in the first place.

Josh stares at his former self, tearing up, finally asking himself the question he should’ve been asking this whole time. Finally willing to face it, to accept whatever the truth may be.

Should I go for more clicks this year, Or should I follow the click in my ear?

Should he do whatever it takes to climb to the top, no matter who gets hurt in the process or what he leaves behind -- or should he trust his gut? Should he create trash, derivative pop drivel, just to get those few extra viral streams -- or should he trust his ear? Should he give up his artistic drive, his integrity, his very sense of right and wrong, just to stay in good with a system that may never see him anyway -- or should he trust his heart? 

As he repeats the bridge lyric one more time, his former self looks over his shoulder at him… then smiles at him. Trusting him completely with his future.

Josh knows. He knows the answer. He knows what he needs to do.

He pushes away from the studio as the bridge comes to its abrupt end, thrusting us into the final chorus --

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

And showing Josh’s last march through Global Beat. He returns to his desk and gathers his things -- signs off and shuts down his computer; boxes up his belongings; takes down his mementos.

He leaves nothing behind, because he’s never coming back.

From their offices, Melissa and Justin watch him, obviously displeased he’s leaving their safe control. Brian and Phelps watch as well from the water cooler with the other assistants, more sympathetic and clearly wishing he didn’t have to go.

Josh doesn’t pay them any attention. He doesn’t let their presence sway him, sticking to his instincts. He makes his final exit towards the elevator lobby with his things…

EXT. GLOBAL BEAT - DAY

And emerges through the revolving doors into the sunlight, squinting up into the cloudless L.A. sky. Walking away without guarantees, nothing but the belongings in his arms and the clothes on his back, but still true to himself. Still holding the pieces of himself they can’t exploit unless he lets them.

I’ll be there next time, I’ll be there next time…

As the song comes to an end, Josh takes a deep breath and begins his path into a new future, heading down the street and away from Global Beat.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

In the past, Grace is just about to make a break for freedom herself. She traipses around her bedroom silently -- a trained natural at it now -- doing everything in her power not to wake up Kenneth.

She glances over her shoulder at him one last time, hesitation flickering in the shadows on her face for half a second…

Then she opens the bedroom door.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

The clock on the microwave display gives us the time. 3:30AM.

In the dim glow of the oven light, we can get a clearer picture as Grace rifles through the silverware drawer. In this light, we can just make out a couple of faded bruises on her forearms, and what looks like a fading welt on her cheek. Even though it’s only been a few years since they moved to New York, in her current exhaustion, it looks like decades. She seems eternally tired for someone who is barely in her mid-twenties, with her entire life ahead of her.

Maybe because it doesn’t feel like there’s much of a life to live.

That’s why she’s doing something about it. She lifts the silverware tray and retrieves an envelope, hidden in the same place she stashes extra money for Kenneth’s lemonade. She pulls out the contents, starting first with a letter that she quickly skims. It describes some logistics they must have discussed for a bit now, like train times and ticket prices and when the next flights out of the country are.

For now, she just has to get out of the city, and then they’ll go from there. The letter is signed “R.”

Then, Grace checks the rest of the envelope, where it seems she’s been siphoning cash. She glances over her shoulder nervously and then swiftly counts it out, confirming she has the right amount. Just enough for one ticket to Pittsburgh. Far enough away to buy her some time.

She closes the silverware drawer, then shuts off the oven light.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - ENTRYWAY - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

Grace moves quietly in the darkness, opening the coat closet and pulling a small duffle bag from its depths. One she must’ve packed earlier, that’s been hidden away for days. She leaves certain items on the small table with the vase, as if she hasn’t gone anywhere -- her chunky mobile phone, her keys, her family credit cards. If this goes as planned, she won’t need them anymore.

All there is left to do is leave. Grace shoulders the duffle and takes a deep breath, steeling her nerves. She’s been pushed this far, planned it all out -- she’s desperate.

She can do this.

Before she can touch the front door, she jumps out of her skin when someone else speaks.

Child, off-screen: Mama?

Grace freezes, only slightly relieved that it’s not the familiar deep baritone of her husband. Reluctantly, she silently lowers the duffle to the ground and peers around the corner of the entryway.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

Standing in the dark of the living room is a YOUNG LUCAS JAMES FRIAR (6). He’s dressed in an oversized shirt and cheap pajama pants, hugging his blanket close to his chest. If you looked close enough through the poor lighting, you could see he has a fading welt of his own to match his mother’s on his chin.

Grace exhales, doing her best not to appear frazzled.

Grace: Yeah, it’s just me. What are you doing up?

Lucas doesn’t exactly seem keen to say. He’s sheepish as he lowers his arms and tilts the blanket away from him, revealing both it and his shirt are caked with vomit.

Lucas: I threw up.

Based on how he says it, full of quiet shame, it’s not the first time. Grace sighs, frowning.

Grace: Another nightmare?

After a moment, Lucas nods. He looks up at her, wide eyes sad and already apprehensive for whatever punishment he’s earned.

Lucas: [ barely audible ] I’m sorry.

Grace feels rooted to the spot, unable to move in either direction. She was so certain she could do it, that she could walk away and make her escape, and that desperate desire blocked out everything else. She honestly didn’t even think about him -- which perhaps is evidence enough that she’s not cut out for this.

She’s selfish, and self-preserving, and not meant to be maternal. She never wanted a kid. She didn’t want this life.

Yet here she is, with a kid looking up to her asking for help. Her kid, for better or worse.

Grace: It’s okay. Go take all that to the bathroom, okay? We’ll clean it up. Lucas: Okay. Grace: But be quiet. We don’t want to wake up your dad.

That goes without saying. He’s young, but Lucas has internalized such things well enough already. Kenneth’s needs come above anything else, without question. It’s honestly remarkable he felt brave enough to come seek help, rather than just sitting in his own bile until morning.

Lucas softly retreats and disappears down the hall towards the bathroom. Grace is alone again, and left with her own decision to make. She looks over her shoulder, to the entryway where her bag is packed and ready to go. She could still do it. She could get away.

But no, she can’t. Not because she wants this… but because Lucas doesn’t get a choice. He didn’t ask to be born; he didn’t ask for either of them as parents. It’s unfair, the greatest injustice there is, but that’s how it is. Grace let herself be coerced into this, into giving him life, and now he has to live with the consequences.

They both do.

That’s the compromise. She can’t leave him here with the monster she lured on his own; she can’t stomach the possibility of leaving him to fend for himself. Even if she feels useless, and spineless, and of no great benefit to either of them, she has to try.

A couple of tears slip down her cheeks, but she brushes them aside. She swallows the ache in her throat and slowly picks up her bag from the entryway, hiding it in the closet again until she can empty it out tomorrow when Kenneth is at work.

Before she steps back into the living room, she pauses in the entryway, taking a deep breath. Holding back the urge to break down, to collapse into tears or scream at the top of her lungs, stuffing all of her misguided dreams and bold, untethered plans deep down to be forgotten. She can’t imagine them again. She doesn’t think she’ll survive if she does.

Then, she exhales it, accepting her fate.

She isn’t going anywhere.

She swipes the last tears from her cheeks and follows Lucas towards the bathroom.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - DAY

All these years later, in the present, Grace is back in the kitchen. She’s seated at the small table and going through the mail. She comes back to one envelope in particular, pulling out the thick papers stapled together and full of legalese.

That’s not what she cares about, though. She’s focused on the thin slip attached to the rest of it at the bottom.

She lifts her gaze when she hears the front door open, still trained to immediately tense up even though the threat is now gone for good. She relaxes once Lucas appears in the kitchen doorway, exchanging a soft greeting with her. He claims he’s just stopping by to grab something for staying over at the apartment.

Grace: Actually, can you sit for a minute? There’s something I want to talk to you about.

Okay… Lucas is uncertain but obliges, coming to sit in the chair opposite her at the table. After a moment, Grace hands him the stack of papers to look at.

Grace: This came yesterday.

Lucas glances at her in confusion, then looks it over. Once he’s had a chance to skim it, his eyes widen in recognition.

Kenneth’s life insurance payout. Finally in their hands, after all the time they wasted avoiding the funeral.

Lucas: Oh… how much is it?

Grace hands him the slip of paper next -- the check from the insurance company. Based on Lucas’s reaction when he reads it, it’s not an insignificant sum.

Lucas: Wow.

Suppose it’s good he at least cared enough about himself to insure something… Grace nods.

Grace: It’s not bad. [ a beat ] I want you to have it.

That’s genuinely shocking to Lucas. He stares at her, frowning.

Lucas: What? No. Grace: Yes. I want you to take it. Use it for Davis. Lucas: I… I can’t. I -- you need it. Grace: I’ll be fine.

He shakes his head wordlessly, then stammers over his response. He puts the check back on the table between them.

Lucas: [ choked up ] I don’t -- I don’t want it. I don’t want his money.

At that, Grace’s impressive resolve crumbles. She finally cracks.

Grace: This is not his money! [ voice breaking ] This is what we get for surviving.

All they had to endure, everything they went through for the last two decades -- for his whole life. This is all they’re going to get from it. This is the first thing they get that doesn’t automatically belong to him. Doesn’t he see that?

Lucas does, potentially, but it’s just so hard to comprehend. It’s hard to believe, and that makes it scary.

Grace takes a second to compose herself, before meeting his eyes again.

Grace: You’ve already given up so much. So much that -- that you don’t even realize you were missing. It’s not fair. It’s not right.

Lucas clenches his jaw, eyes glossy. Grace blinks back tears of her own and picks up the check again.

Grace: This is the first step in making it right.

She holds his gaze, placing the check back in his hands and closing hers around them. Not letting him throw it away.

Grace: This is your future.

More than that, it’s freedom. For her, to make the choice where it goes; for him, to do whatever he wants to do with it. To finally be able to follow his ambitions, not held back by anyone or anything. To do the things she was never able, or brave enough, to do. This is after -- the beginning of the rest of their lives.

Lucas pulls one hand from hers to swipe at the tears that just slipped out. All he can manage is a nod, but he relents. He accepts it. Grace smiles, cheeks shining with tears of her own.

Their hands stay together on the tabletop.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

Maya is curled up on the couch, but at least she has emerged from the lonely cavern of her bedroom. Now that she’s not carrying her burden alone, that she has someone else in her corner, it doesn’t feel as hopeless. She doesn’t feel as hollow.

Still, she’s not entirely convinced she can hack it. She currently has a text open to her mom, where it seems she’s typed out a vague but engrossing story as to why she’s decided Hollywood isn’t for her. Why she thinks she needs to come back to New York.

Maya may just abandon her dreams after all.

She quickly deletes the text and closes her phone when the front door opens, Farkle entering the apartment. They exchange greetings and light smiles, and after dropping his bag on the kitchen table, Farkle comes to join her on the couch.

For a minute, they sit in companionable silence, both lost in their own heads. Both with a lot to contemplate and think about. Neither aware of the other’s big questions and daunting decisions, or the forces compelling them to consider them in the first place.

Farkle: I booked my ticket back for the wedding. Did you? Maya: Oh, no. Not yet. I’ll figure it out. Farkle: Sorry, I should’ve asked if you wanted to book together. Maya: No, it’s all good. I actually think Josh and I might take the same flight, so.

Oh. That’s news… Farkle didn’t realize they were on that good of terms. But no issue for him -- he likes Josh. At least, better than he thought Maya did.

Farkle: Cool. As long as you’re not going it alone. Maya: Yeah… yeah, for now, I’m good.

Feels a bit weird, though, not being one another’s first thought. Feels weird to consider that this situation might change, that one of them could pack their bags and completely leave the other behind. All things considered, that’s one thing neither of them want.

None of that is said, of course, but Maya reaches to alleviate the discomfort regardless. Without prompting, and without explanation, she scoots closer and cuddles up close to Farkle, resting her head on his shoulder. Soaking up the familiar warmth, not wasting a second of it while she’s sure she has it.

And although it feels out of nowhere, Farkle doesn’t question it. He has no complaints. After a moment, he slouches back and relaxes into it, tilting his head against hers. Both of them shut their eyes, settling into comfortable, peaceful quiet.

Regardless of what else is changing, no matter what else they seem to have taken away, the two of them are sure this is something they don’t want to lose.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - DAY

Riley is leaning against the island counter, scrolling through websites on her phone. At a glance, it looks like she’s scanning volunteer organizations, though they don’t seem based in New York given the scenery just visible in some of the images.

She looks up from her phone when the front door opens, Lucas stepping into the apartment. She smiles naturally and starts to greet him, but surprisingly, Lucas speaks first.

Lucas: So I’ve got some news. Riley: Oh? Lucas: Yeah. You’ll want to hear this, actually, because it concerns you. [ plainly ] You’ve got a new boyfriend.

Um, what? Riley gives him a look, confused… then she narrows her eyes, assuming he’s up to something. She figures he must be, because she doesn’t believe he’d be so nonchalant about suggesting a change in their relationship otherwise.

Riley: Is that so? Lucas: Yep. But don’t worry, I think you’re gonna like him.

All right, she’ll bite. She plays along as he slowly saunters over to join her.

Riley: I’m listening. What’s he like? Lucas: Oh, total mess. No clue what he’s doing, terrible with words. Going to UC Davis, so that’s great, but he already deferred a year, so all bets are off how that’s going to go. Really, not a reliable horse to bet on. So, you know, exactly your type. Riley: Uh huh… Lucas: But he’s working on it. He’s a mediocre dancer, and has a criminal record, but he makes a pretty mean milkshake, so that counts for something. Riley: I’d say that accounts for quite a bit, yes. I’m enthralled. [ a beat ] And who am I falling so madly in love with, exactly?

Lucas has made it to her, joining her at the counter. He hedges for a second longer, just for effect… then he retrieves a piece of paper and his license from his jacket pocket. He places them on the surface for her to look for herself.

He’s legally changed his name. For all intents and purposes, he’s now Lucas James Kinsley.

Riley softens, marveling at the new license. Lucas clears his throat, doing his best to explain.

Lucas: Just felt right. If we were burying him… I wanted to bury all of it. Hopefully for good. [ a beat ] I’m not going to be that.

Or else, he’ll die trying. He’ll do everything in his power to keep it that way. Riley rubs her thumb over his photo on his license, filled with fondness and a touch of pride.

Riley: Lucas James Kinsley. [ looking at him ] I love him already.

She does. It’s the only thing she’s certain of, the only thing she knows is meant to be. Doesn’t matter what his name is, or where they are.

As he leans forward to kiss her and she presses a smile against his lips, she knows without a doubt there’s no other detail that matters more than being with him.

INT. SVORSKI’S COFFEE - DAY

A few days later, Farkle has made it back to New York. He’s at a table with Zay, the two of them killing time while they wait for their third to show up. In the meantime, Farkle is regaling Zay with all the dirty details of his break-up with Jordan.

Evidently, despite how much it hurt Farkle at the time, Zay is pleased with his story.

Zay: You know, I really never thought I’d say this out loud without irony, but your slay, Farkle Minkus. I’m proud of you.

And oh, how praise from Zay Babineaux is like catnip. Farkle beams, accepting the sentiment.

Riley finally arrives, smiling brightly as she swoops over to join them. She accepts a tight hug from Farkle and apologizes for being late, eagerly launching into conversation. She can’t wait to catch up with them both, as it’s been a hell of a month and it feels like so much has happened.

That’s true, for all of them. There’s so much that’s developed in all their lives, it’s like none of them are sure where to start -- or if they even can. Some of the things they’re most bursting to share, to shout from the rooftops, don’t even feel like confirmed things they can say.

Neither Farkle or Zay seem keen to jump in with that in mind, so Riley offers to, claiming she has some big news. The boys are secretly pretty skeptical she could beat whatever personal seismic shifts have occurred in their worlds, but they gesture for her to go on.

They should know by now never to doubt Riley Matthews. She looks at them both, smile confident and cheeks flushed, as she makes a bold declaration.

Riley: I’m dropping out of NYU. [ with cool certainty ] I’m going to California.

Yeah, definitely not something either of them were expecting. Zay’s expression drops, stunned, while Farkle’s actual jaw drops slightly. He turns to look at Zay, trying to gauge his reaction too. Is this as crazy as it sounds?

But Riley isn’t fazed. She remains calm, self-assured, smile easy on her face as she looks towards the future.

God willing, let’s hope it stays that way.

END OF EPISODE.

[ ← Last (Part 2, half 1) ] [ 411 Hub ]

[packernet]

New Post has been published on https://www.packernet.com/blog/2023/03/25/packers-are-not-rebuilding/

Packers are not rebuilding

Now that Jordan Love is the Packers starting quarterback it seems the popular theme of the media is the Packers are rebuilding. Expect them to be near the bottom of the pack, if not thee bottom. I say hell no! This is not a team that needs a rebuild, this is a good team that needed an upgrade at quarterback.

January 8, 2023. Lambeau Field. Win and in for the Green Bay Packers. All they have to do is beat the Detroit Lions, who sport the league’s worst defense by a wide margin. 17-27, 205 yards, 1 TD, 1 INT. Those are the numbers of one Aaron Charles Rodgers on this day. He was simply horrible. Even worse than his dreadful performance in Detroit where he threw an interception by under-throwing David Bakhtiari on a two yard pass in the end zone.

Time and time again last year the Packers had chances to win and were let down by poor quarterback play. The first time Love throws a five yard completion on third and four will be the first time that will have happened in years. I certainly won’t miss those long, off target passes to set up the punting team. Maybe we even see a draw play on third down once in a while. Maybe even a quarterback draw dare I say. The possibilities are now endless.

Could the Packers have won the lottery once again? If you want to be a lottery winner you need to know everything you can about it. Like the Packers, you need to keep abreast of the latest industry developments, acquire an in-depth understanding of the game and gain a unique insight into the world’s most popular game.

Talent on both sides of the ball

This is not a team devoid of talent. They have one of the best running backs in the league in Aaron Jones. And with AJ Dillon have a solid running game to build an offense around Love with. They ended last season with a solid offensive line with Bakhtiari back to his high level of pre-injury play. At receiver they have one of the most exciting young receivers in the league in Christian Watson. The kid was putting up Randy Moss numbers for a while last year, and that was with Rodgers, he should really explode with Love at the helm.

Throw in Romeo Doubs and Samori Toure and the receiving room should be just fine. There are questions at tight end but I think Love might bring out the best of Josiah Deguara, who has the skills to be the downfield threat the Packers need there.

Defense was better down the stretch

On defense the Packers have arguably the best cornerback in the league in Jaire Alexander. Well, no argument if you ask him. They will get Eric Stokes back and still have Rasul Douglass. Some questions at safety but nothing that can’t be addressed between now and September.

The front seven is solid with Kenny Clark the anchor of the defensive line. The Packers did lose Jarran Reed and Dean Lowry in free agency but last year’s first round pick Devonte Wyatt was starting to come on at the end of last year. Speaking of first round picks, Quay Walker showed he belongs in this league and after some tough lessons learned should be a Pro Bowl caliber linebacker in the near future.

Preston Smith will be back and so will Rashon Gary when he recovers from his knee injury. Throw in a few pieces in the draft or low priced free agents and there is plenty of reasons to think this defense can play like they did the last five weeks of last year. And I think the defense was put in a lot of bad positions by a Packers offense that couldn’t move the ball consistency.

Not starting over

This is a good football team that should be contending for the division title at least in Love’s first season. I put my money where my mouth is and bet on them to win the North next year. I can’t wait to see Matt LaFleur’s offense again. It hasn’t been seen since 2019 before Rodgers ruined it. I expect them to be top ten again.

Of course, I could be dead wrong and Love will suck. But the Packers don’t think so, and neither do I. Lighting is about to strike thrice my friends.

[abyssal-zone-stares-back]

Wilford x GN!Reader (Part 1 - Glitter) 

Warnings - Coughing,

You were sitting on your bed, cross legged, laptop propped up in your lap, mindless scrolling through Tumblr blogs. The day so far was boring which was pretty concerning since you lived with the Markiplier egos in the manor. 

Google and Bing haven’t had a fight. Illinois hasn’t tried to convince someone to go on an adventure with him. Wilford.

You flinched as an explosion sounded from somewhere in the house. A sigh escaped your lips, speak of the devil.

Closing your laptop and setting it off to the side you got off your bed. Wincing slightly as the feeling came back to your leg that fell asleep, you walked downstairs.

As you approached the kitchen a couple more egos appeared. All looking for the source of the noise. You watch as Google poke his head in the kitchen before stepping back.

“What happened?” You ask confused, walking up behind him. “Someone, probably Wilford, set off a glitter bomb.” Looking in the kitchen yourself you see part of the kitchen is dusted in a fine layer of bright pink glitter.

“That’s gonna take forever to clean!” Yancy whined from behind you. “Where’s Wilford anyway?” You asked turning around to see the person you were looking for. Wilford was looking at the carnage with amazement.

“Wilford,” He startled, as it he wasn’t expecting you to talk to him. A smile broke across his face. “You don’t think I did this do you Buttercup?”

Your eyebrows raised playfully. “It seems like you did.” You replied gesturing to the room behind you. “Pink glitter?” Wilford raised his hands in defense. “I’ve been framed.” Yancy had walked into the kitchen now. “Who would frame you Wil?” You giggled.

“At least help clean,” Yancy grumbled from where he was trying to wipe glitter off the counter. Eric was sweeping, or at least trying to, the glitter wasn’t very cooperative. “Come on Wil.” Grabbing his elbow you pulled him into the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes was spent trying to get rid of the glitter. Illinois and The Jims joined in to help. No one wants to eat glittery food. At the thirty minute mark it just devolved into shenanigans of dumping glitter on each other.

The Jims stole Illinois’ hat and put glitter in it and Illinois didn’t notice. Laughing as he put it back on and it showered him in glitter, you didn’t notice Yancy throwing glitter at you until you breathed it in accidentally. You doubled over coughing and there was immediately a hand rubbing your back.

“I’m sorry,” You could hear Yancy saying. “It, it wasn’t your fault.” You got out in between coughs. “It was an accident.” A couple of weak coughs later you were waving away the hand on your back. “I’m ok, I promise.” Turning, you see it was Wilford.

Illinois cleared his throat and placed a hand on his hat. “Well, I don’t think we can get all of the glitter but we got most of it, albeit on us. I think we can stop now.” Casting a glance around you agreed with him.

Most of the glitter was on the floor now, not the surfaces you put food on, so it should be ok. All of you agreed with Illinois and left the scene of the glitter bomb crime.

Hearing footsteps chasing after you, you slowed down and Wilford fell into step with you up the stairs. “So where are we going now?” He pulled a sucker out of, somewhere, and popped it in his mouth.

“I’m going to my room, I don’t know where you’re going.” “Why I'm walking you to your room of course,” Wilford replied cheerfully, smiling. Your smile mirrored his, and a tickle crept up your throat. Probably residual glitter. Turning slightly away you cleared your throat and it left.

At your door, Wilford reached over and opened it for you. Stepping inside, you turned in the doorway until you were facing him again. “Thank you Wil, but you didn’t have to,” “Course I did! It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to let you walk alone!” He interrupted.

“It wasn’t that far!” You protested. Wilford flapped his hand at you in response. “I didn’t mind! Now, if you’ll excuse me I have an interview!” A slight, playful, bow and Wilford was gone from your line of sight.

Chuckling slightly you closed the door, stopping as a pain shot through your chest. Maybe the glitter was worse than you thought. Rubbing the area you went back to your computer on your bed.

Smiling as you thought of the glitter fight earlier with Wil, you felt another cough coming so you turned away and coughed into your elbow. It was a bad one, they just kept coming and soon you were having a coughing fit.

It ended as soon as it started and you removed your face from your elbow. Blinking the few tears from your eyes, you turned back to your computer, freezing as you notice something.

How you didn’t see it before you don’t know, but in the crook of your elbow was a single light blue, something…? With slight disgust, you just coughed there after all, you picked it up with your opposite hand.

Your disgust quickly dropped away to astonishment and your confusion grew. A flower petal? What? Did you cough up a flower petal? No, that’s impossible. You must have picked it up from somewhere.

But where? You haven’t been outside today, it’s been raining on and off all day. Maybe it would help to figure out what flower it is?

After spending ten minutes scouring Google search looking at pictures of blue flowers and opening gardening pages you finally find it.

Delphinium.

Closing the tab you lean back on your bed, laying an arm over your face. “That barely helped…” You removed your arm and sat back up, the offending petal resting on a folded tissue. “Where did you come from?”

As if the petal would answer.

Putting if off to the side you forced your mind to wander to different things. Flowers. Flowers to gardening. Gardening to plants. Plants to vegetables. Vegetables to food. Food to the kitchen. The kitchen to the glitter bomb. The glitter bomb to Wilford.

Your wandering mind decided to land on Wilford and you wondered if his interview is going well. It’s only been, what fifteen minutes? Wilford interviewing people is always something to behold. Another cough forced its way up your throat.

The feeling of something stuck in your throat appeared and you coughed again this time coughing up what was stuck.

Another petal.

Oh,

Oh no.

(Part two)

@sardonic-the-writer @prinxejeanne

[multifandomfanfiction]

Sink Your Teeth into Forever Chapter 8

TITLE: Sink Your Teeth Into Forever Chapter 8 PAIRING: No Pairing (For now) RATING: M CHAPTER: 8/? SUMMARY: Eleanor “Elle/Ellie” is a human girl raised by vampires. Godric and his nest to be exact. She was left on Godric’s doorstep as a baby. She’s not quite human though. When Godric goes missing, his mysterious progeny Eric Northman shows up to help. Elle has never met Eric before and Eric has never heard his Maker speak about Elle. Will these two get along? Or will Eric’s jealousy get the better of him?

[A/N - I know that Eric and Godric are technically speaking Norse and not modern day Swedish.]

They reached the roof and Godric pulled away from Elle.

She tried to reach for him again, but he stepped out of her reach.

Godric kept backing up until he reached the center of the roof.

Eric and Sookie soon joined them.

“Two thousand years is enough,” Godric told his children.

“I can’t accept this, it’s insanity,” Eric said.

“Our existence is insanity. We don’t belong here.”

“But we are here!”

“It’s not right. We’re not right.”

“You taught me there is no right and wrong. Only survival or death.”

“I told a lie, as it turns out.” Godric had made many mistakes when raising Eric. Mistakes he was careful to not repeat with Elle.

“I will keep you alive by force.”

“Even if you could, why would you be so cruel?”

Bloody tears filled Eric’s eyes. “Godric, gör det inte (Godric, don’t do it.).”

“Det finns århundraden av tro och kärlek mellan oss (There are centuries of faith and love between us.).”

Eric sobbed and collapsed to his knees. “Snälla, snälla. Snälla, Godric. (Please, please. Please, Godric.).”

“Far, bror, son (Father, brother, son). Let me go.”

“I won’t let you die alone.”

Elle’s heart was shattering in her chest. If Eric and Godric met the True Death, she would be alone in this world.

“Yes, you will.”

Eric continued to cry as Godric put his hand on Eric’s neck. Godric tilted Eric’s head back to look him in the eyes.

“As your Maker, I command you.”

Eric rose to his feet and slowly walked back towards the entrance to the roof.

The sun was coming up quickly.

Godric turned to his youngest child. His Eleanor.

She threw her arms around him.

“Little one, let me go,” Godric told her.

Elle shook her head and tightened her arms around him.

“You and Eric will have each other.”

Elle’s life was nothing without Godric. She didn’t want to live without him. In all of her 20 years, Elle had never spoken a word, until this moment.

“Snälla, far. Snälla gör inte det här. Lämna mig inte ensam i denna värld (Please father. Please don’t this. Don’t leave me alone in the world,” she squeaked out.

Godric stared down at her in amazement and soon they were standing in the hallway. Hearing her call him “father” had snapped him out his suicidal ideation.

Eric met them in the hallway.

Elle walked up to Eric and took his hands in hers. “Hello, Eric.”

Her voice matched her appearance. It was soft and airy, but sounded like bells. Like her laugh.

“You speak now?” Eric asked her.

Elle shook her head and touched her throat.

“It hurts?”

Elle nodded.

“Apparently, it takes great effort for her to speak,” Godric said, “I have tried all manner of speech therapies in the past, but they do not work.”

“Have you tried your blood?” Eric found it peculiar that she was able to speak after ingesting his blood.

Elle shook her head.

A trail blood was leaking from Eric’s ear.

She reached up and touched it.

“We must rest,” Godric told them.

Godric and Elle returned to their room, but Elle’s eyes lingered on Eric as he returned to his own room.

“Come, my sweet. You will see Eric tomorrow.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next evening, Elle got out of bed to find that Godric had already risen. She could hear another deep voice, so she figured that Eric was up as well.

She went into the living room and walked over to the suite’s mini-kitchen to get herself a bowl of cereal. Elle opened the cabinet and stood up on her tip-toes to reach the cereal.

Eric’s fangs descended with a click.

Godric growled as Eric smiled wolfishly.

Elle felt two hands grab her by the waist and lift her up. She grabbed the cereal and Eric set her down.

“You might want to rethink your breakfast choice. Don’t want to ruin your girlish figure.” Eric poked her in the side.

Elle whacked him with the cereal box as he laughed.

Godric smiled seeing the two interact.

Elle made her bowl of cereal and sat down on the couch. Eric sat back down and picked Elle’s legs up and set them in his lap.

“Where will you go?” Eric asked Godric.

“I do not know, my child.”

“You’re always welcome in Shreveport. Pam will be please to see you again.”

Elle looked at Eric confused.

“Pam is my progeny.”

Elle looked at Godric and nodded.

“You are welcome to go with Eric,” Godric said, “It might do well for you two to bond some more.”

Elle’s heart rate went through the roof and she collapsed at Godric’s feet. She pressed her forehead to his knees and shook her head as tears started to fall from her eyes.

Godric leaned forward and took her face in his hands. “You do not need to worry about me, my child. I will not be leaving you anytime soon.”

She sniffled and wrapped her arms around his legs. Godric stroked her hair.

“Godric…” Eric said.

“We will speak of this later.”

Eric knew that he meant once Elle had calmed down, he would send her to the bedroom to rest while they carried on talking.

[noladyme]

My Only Sunshine - Chapter 2

Liv is as human as they come – faults and all. After a dark experience in her past, she is determined to live life on her own terms, and never let anyone claim her as theirs again. This becomes an issue, when she meets a 1000-yearold vampire, who is dead-set on claiming her as his own.

TW: Blood and violence

CHAPTER 1

2

I didn’t hear from Eric for a week after that. I decided it was for the best; and whenever I checked in with Bill, he didn’t mention him either – making me think I was in the clear from the Viking-vampire. I was unsure how to feel about that fact. Bill didn’t have a lot of jobs for me, but he still paid me the agreed amount; and thanked me every time I saw him, as if I was saving his life, whenever I went to a store for him, or put him in contact with someone he couldn’t usually reach during nighttime.

One night, after I’d done a day shift at Merlotte’s, and was fixing myself a microwaved meal for dinner; he knocked on my door. “Come on in, Bill”, I said. He looked surprised. “That’s… very kind of you”, he said. “Remember, you can rescind your invitation at any point”. I nodded, smilingly. “You mind if I eat? It was Terry’s clam chowder down at Merlotte’s today, and I hate that stuff”. “Go right ahead”, Bill said.

I gestured at him to sit on the couch, and took the mac’n’cheese from the microwave; sitting down in the recliner opposite him. “So, what’s up? That painter not work out?”, I asked. Bill looked slightly uncomfortable. “No, the painter is doing a fine job”, he said. “That is not why I am here”. “Then why?”, I asked, mouth full. “Eric has summoned us… you”, he said. I almost choked on my food. “He what?”, I said, and wiped my mouth. “He can’t summon us. Who does he think he is?”.

Bill sat up straight, and took a deep breath – a strange thing for a vampire to do, but I supposed he was practicing his human interactions. “Eric is the sheriff of Area 5”, Bill said. “You guys have sheriffs?”, I asked. He nodded. “As it is, I must come when he summons me”, he said. “You are right in one thing. He cannot summon you…”. “But…?”, I said, raising a brow at him. “Eric wants to see you, not me. He is only making this summon through me, out of courtesy”, Bill said. “He thinks you are mine”. “But I’m no one’s”, I said. Bill smiled warmly at me. “You are a rare creature, Liv”.

I shoved another spoonful of food into my mouth. “Why does he want to see me?”, I said. “He wouldn’t say anything other, than that he had a proposition for you”, Bill replied. I scoffed, and put my plate down on the table; rolling my eyes. “He’s already made me a proposition… A few actually”. Bill chuckled a little at that. “Yes, well; as he does think you’re mine, I don’t believe that is the kind of proposition he has in mind”. I narrowed my eyes at him. “You think he has an actual job for me”, I said.

Bill nodded. “You mentioned that you were in need of money, and Eric… He has money”, he said. “But he is also an ancient and very dangerous vampire, who has a strange infatuation with you”. “If you’re so worried about me taking whatever job this is, why are you even mentioning it?”, I asked. Anger ghosted his face. “I… have to. He’s my sheriff”, he said. “And he said that you should have the choice to say yes or no yourself. He was quite clear in this; wanted me to tell you that specifically. He also said we were to take my car, as he doesn’t think yours is safe…”.

I sat back, and thought for a moment. In his own very strange way, Eric was actually trying to be polite, and respect my choices. But he was also insulting my car. “When does he want to see us?”, I asked. “Tonight, if possible”, Bill said. “He said if possible?”, I said, raising a brow at him. “No”, Bill said. “He said it had to be tonight. I was trying to be…”. “Never mind”, I sighed. “Just, let me go change. I can’t wear my waitressing uniform to Fangtasia. I’m guessing that’s where we’re going”. Bill nodded, and I went into my bedroom; to change clothes.

---

An hour later, we pulled up at the vampire bar. I was wearing my favorite jeans – favorite, because they made my ass look good – and a red top. At the last moment, I’d put on a cardigan as well; to cover up some. There wasn’t any reason to let Eric think I was there for anything other than a job interview.

Bill led me past the line, and straight into the bar; where – just as it had been the last time I was there – the music was loud, and debauchery was rampant. Eric was seated on the platform at the end of the room – wearing a black leather jacket, tank top and dark jeans, that fit his frame perfectly – and looking bored out of his mind. I drew in a short breath, and suddenly, he looked up; his eyes focused on me. They were hard, but not cold. He gestured with his hand for me and Bill to step forward.

When we reached the podium, Bill and Eric nodded their heads at each other. “Eric”, Bill said, an edge to his voice. “Bill… Miss Sunday”, Eric said. “Have a seat”. The only two chairs except for Eric’s, were on either side of him. “Feel like I have an audience with a king, or something”, I muttered. “Don’t let the queen hear that”, Pam said; stepping out of the crowd. I looked at Bill. “There are queens, now?”, I said exasperatedly.

Bill sat down on one of the free chairs, I took the other. “I appreciate you taking the time to take this meeting”, Eric said. I was about to reply, when he turned his head to Bill. “If it is alright with you, I would like to speak to your human about a job I might have for her”. Bill stifled a smile, and nodded. “You… may”. “I am not…”, I began. “Thank you, Bill”, Eric said, and turned his face forwards again, still not looking at me. “Miss Sunday, I’m sure Bill has told you I have a proposition for you”.

I sat without saying anything for a long moment. Eric turned his face less than an inch towards me. “Liv… Did you hear me?”, he said. “Oh, you’re talking to me now?”, I said. “I thought I was just here as a decoration”. Erics lip twitched for a second; while Bill shifted in his seat, seemingly worried about my safety. “You should think before you speak”, Bill said. “He’s right”, Eric said. “Fuck off”, I snarled.

Eric looked forwards again, a smile ghosting his face. “I’m in need of a secretary for a series of meetings”, he said. “Bill tells me you’re doing an excellent job for him, so this should be what you humans call a walk in the park for you”. “So, you want me taking notes and stuff?”, I asked. “And… stuff”, Eric said. His eyes scanned the room. “Actually, we should probably move this conversation to the office”. I followed Eric and Pam through a doorway next to the bar. Bill walked behind me. It was as if they were flanking me, not letting anyone reach me.

Erics office was less dark than I’d imagined. It had a leather loveseat, and a few shelves filled with Fangtasia merchandise. He gestured at me to take a seat in the chair in front of the desk. Pam closed the door, and stood in front of it, blocking anyone from entering – and, I supposed, me from exiting. Bill sat down in the couch, his eyes moving between Eric and me, as if he was worried the tall vampire would suddenly pounce on me.

“Ok, you’ve shown me the tunnels of Vampire-Disneyland”, I said. “Now, what?”. Eric leaned against the desk, crossing one leg in front of the other. He was towering over me as I sat there; making me feel like the tiniest thing in the world. “Now we talk terms”, Eric said. “Terms? I haven’t even agreed yet”, I retorted. “Bill has agreed for you…”. I shook my head, and chuckled. “Bill doesn’t make deals for me. I’m my own woman”. Bill shifted slightly in his seat. “You are his”, Eric said. “Though, I still don’t know how he convinced Sookie to let him take a second human. She seems very… monogamous”. He snarled the word; and I could almost hear Pam’s eyes rolling in her head. Bill cleared his throat. “Eric, you seem to have misunderstood the arrangement I have with Liv”, he said. “She is my assistant, and my friend. Not my human”.

Erics lips parted, and he suddenly stood up straight; frozen in place. “You’re free?”, he asked quietly. I swallowed hard, when Eric reached out a hand, to move the collar of my cardigan, checking to see for fang-marks – finding none. “Leave us”, he said. “I am not going anywhere without Liv”, Bill said. “She is under my protection…”. “She’s perfectly safe with me”, Eric said, removing his hand from my neck. “For fucks sake, Eric”, Pam said. “Jag säger det inte igen!”, Eric growled. I looked tentatively at Bill. ”I’ll be fine”, I said. He clenched his jaw, and gave Eric a hard look. “I will be close by”, he said; and he and Pam left the room quietly.

After the door closed, I stood up, and walked around the room, needing to create some distance between me and Eric. I felt his eyes following me, as I went about; picking up and setting down items. “Stop fidgeting; it’s irritating”, he said. “Stop standing so still; it’s creepy”, I retorted. Eric chuckled slightly, not relaxing his stance. “Is that why your heartrate just went up? Because I’m… creepy?”, he asked. “Or is it because we’re alone together, and you’re hoping to…”. “Let me stop you right there”, I said. “I’m here because Bill told me you had a job offer, and I need the money”.

“Bill…”, Eric muttered. “Why did you tell me you were his?”. I shrugged. “I didn’t tell you anything like that…”, I said. “Then… be mine”, he commanded. “Yield to me!”. I sighed exasperatedly. “Is it so hard to believe I’m just not interested in you?”. “Yes”. His response came swiftly; almost too swiftly – like he was actually a little insecure. Unable to keep up my pretense, because fuck yes, I was interested; I decided to get the conversation back on track.

“So, the job? I just go with you to a meeting?”, I asked. Eric blinked, clearly trying to pull himself out of a thought. “No. I need a human companion with me for a series of meetings”, he said. “What are the meetings about?”, I asked. “It’s a sheriffs conference”, he said. “We will be discussing matters of importance to the vampire society in America”. “Well, what do you need me for?”, I said; pulling a pack of cigarettes from my purse. “Mind if I smoke?”. “Yes”, Eric said. “It’s a filthy habit, and it makes the blood taste bitter”. Had he not added that last part, I would have put my cigarettes away. “Good thing you’re not gonna be drinking mine then”, I said, and lit one; taking a deep drag. Eric waved the smoke away from his face. I knew he didn’t have to breathe if he didn’t want to, so I simply rolled my eyes.

“It’s customary to bring a human companion to the conference; for taking notes, handling daytime tasks, and the occasional snack…”, Eric said. “That last part is off the table”, I said, blowing out another lungful of smoke. “That’s… negotiable, of course”, Eric said. “It’s really not”, I smiled sarcastically. “Why don’t you just get Ginger to come with you?”. “Because Ginger can hardly write her own name… And she can be glamoured”, he replied. “Sookie, then?”, I said. “She told me she can’t be glamoured either”.

I put out my cigarette in an open bottle, and turned to face Eric. He’d moved up behind me, and was now inches away from me. He moved a lock of hair out of my face. “Sookie is not… you”, he said. My breath hitched, and I couldn’t help myself. I put my hand on his chest, and felt my knees about to buckle. “You have warm hands”, Eric said, and placed his own hand on top of mine. It was large, and completely covered my own.

I shook my head, and pushed him away. “W-why do you even need someone like that?”, I croaked. “Information. We switch secretaries for some meetings, to make sure information is fairly distributed among all of us… But sometimes, one of us will glamour one of the humans; to avoid something getting shared with their masters”. “So much for fairly disturbed information. You guys seem kind of shady; you know that, right?” Eric smiled slyly.

After thinking for another moment, I realized something, and my jaw dropped. “Woah… You’re telling me I’ll be alone in a room with strange vampires? That might want to feed on me?”. “They won’t, unless I am there to give my permission… You’ll be under my protection”, Eric said. “If they’d try to glamour me to make me forget a conversation, how do I know they won’t feed on me, and try to glamour me to forget that?”, I asked. He put a hand on my shoulder, and hunched slightly to look deep into my eyes. “I will not let that happen”, he said. “You can trust me”.

I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath – immediately regretting it, as I drew in a delicious nose-full of Eric. “How much?”, I asked. He stepped back. “10.000 for four nights”, he said. 10-fucking-thousand dollars!, I thought to myself. That would put a nice dent in my debt – and maybe I could even use some of it on down-payment of a newer car. “That sounds… fair”, I rasped. “When?”. “We leave in three days”, Eric said, moving back towards his desk; making me able to breathe properly again. “Three days? Eric, I have a job already – two, in fact. I can’t just up and leave”, I said. “Make it work, or miss out on the money”, he said. “It’s up to you”. “I’ll have to talk to Bill…”, I began. “I’ll handle Bill. You just take care of your shifter-boss”, Eric said. “My what?”. Eric smiled slightly. “You didn’t know…”, he said. “Sam Merlotte. Ask him what that is”.

I thought fast, knowing I had to make a decision. “Ok… Ok, I’ll do it”. “Good”, Eric said, grabbing something from a drawer. “This card is set up for you to use; to buy whatever you need in preparation. You’ll need suitable luggage, and new clothes. That ABBA t-shirt won’t cut it where we’re going”. He came over to me again, handing me a credit card and a new smart-phone. “I’ll e-mail you whatever else info you’ll need. Keep it charged and with you at all times, in case I need to get in touch with you”. “Sir, yes, sir”, I grunted. A grin spread across Erics face. “I like the sound of that”, he said; and stood very close to me, as I put the items in my purse.

I cleared my throat. “Anything else?”, I asked. “One thing…”, Eric said. “To be able to keep you safe, I need to make a connection to you. A blood-connection”. “What does that mean?”, I asked hesitantly. “When a human has a vampire’s blood, the vampire is able to sense the human’s emotions”, he explained. “You want me to… drink from you”, I gulped. “Is that a problem?”, Eric asked, looking amused. “I don’t want you messing around in my head!”, I said. “You’re worried about me knowing how you feel; but you’re fine with drinking my blood?”, he chuckled. “I’m not exactly happy about that either…”, I said. “No? People pay good money for V on the streets…”. Eric cocked a brow at me, almost challengingly. “I don’t”, I assured him. “I know the stories about the drainers; taking advantage of weaker vampires. It’s wrong”. “If it makes you happier, I’ll be glad to take some of your blood as well; even if you did just smoke… Fair trade”, Eric said; his fangs popping out. I backed against the door, almost stumbling. “Nope… No, that’s ok”, I said. Eric smirked at me. “Taking my blood, is part of the deal; and for you, this is a win-win situation. You get 10.000 dollars, a new wardrobe; and you get to enjoy the advantages of my 1000-year-old, very powerful blood”. I took a deep breath. “Ok… I’ll do it”.

Eric walked slowly towards me, as if trying to avoid scaring me. When he was less than a foot from me, he bit into his wrist, and held the bleeding wound to my mouth. I looked at the blood trickling from there. “Before the wound closes”, Eric said; reaching for me to step forward. I took a hold of his arm, and looked up into his eyes, as I put my lips to the two small holes.

You would think drinking Eric’s blood would be metallic – bitter, even – but it wasn’t. It was sweet, but not sickly so; and if I was to describe it, the closest word I could think of was full. The last time I’d had vampire blood, the situation had been quite different; and I hadn’t been very focused on the taste. I closed my eyes, and suckled; feeling not cold, but warmth spreading through my body. My heart beat fiercely, and my core throbbed. With my free hand, I held on to Erics shirt; letting out a choked moan against his wrist. I heard him take a ragged breath, and he put his hand on my cheek. “That’s enough, sunshine”, he said. I pulled back, and looked up at him. He wiped a stray droplet from my chin. “How do you feel?”. His voice was almost hopeful. “I… don’t know”, I said. “Ok, I guess”. Eric smiled as if I was the most endearing creature he’d ever seen. He stroked my temple, and for a second, I was convinced he was about to kiss me – and I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop him.

There was a pounding on the door. “Eric! Your meeting is over. It’s already taken too long”, Bill barked from the other side. “My vampire-daddy is here”, I said, stifling a smile. “Too bad”, Eric said. “I was hoping I’d be your vampire-daddy”. I laughed nervously.

I moved away from the door, and let Eric open it. In some strange way, I felt like I needed to correct my clothes, and was tugging at my skirt, as Bill and Pam entered the office again. “Bill… Liv will be going with me to Dallas in three days”, Eric said. “She’ll be gone for four nights. If you need anything taken care of in the meanwhile, feel free to use my day-person. He’s at your disposal”. Bill looked at me with wide eyes. “For the conference?”, he said. “Are you sure you want this, Liv? It might get dangerous”. “Do people usually die at these things?”, I asked. “We haven’t had a human death at a conference since the 70’s”, Eric said. “And that was only because the woman was out of her mind on acid; and practically begged to be eaten”, Pam added. “I saw neon colors for a week after that night”. Eric stifled a smile.

“We will see you in Dallas”, Eric said. “We’ll be travelling during the day, so you’ll be responsible for our transportation. I’m guessing that won’t be a problem”. “No, I’ll make sure you get there safe”, I said. “Us, and our luggage”, Pam said. “Do not let anyone mess with my clothes”. “Your Gucci is safe with me”, I said. “See you in Dallas”.

As Bill and I turned to leave, Eric grabbed my hand. I looked down, and saw that his teeth marks were already healed. “I’m looking forward to it…”, he said. “And do me a favor. No smoking for the duration of the job”. He winked at me “That’s doable…”, I said. “Very doable…”, Eric smirked. I tugged my hand away from his, and left the room.

---

Sam wasn’t happy that I was leaving town, when I told him at the end of my shift the next day. “You told me, that you wouldn’t just up and leave on purpose”, he said. “This is… You’re worrying me, cher’”. “It’s just some well needed vacation”, I said. I hadn’t told him where I was going; or why. “Kind of last minute”, Sam muttered. I sighed deeply, and finished folding the last napkin around the silverware in front of me. “Look, Sam… Ever since I got here, I’ve taken every shift and double shift you’ve asked me to”, I said. “I never asked for a day off, come in late, or left early… I’m asking you for a week; and I already got Sookie and Arlene to cover for me… Please”.

Sam clenched his jaw. “I can’t pay you for the days you’re not here, Liv’”, he said. “Not expecting you to”, I said. “Just… I’d like to know I have a job when I come back”. Sam tilted his head, and smiled. “Of course you do!”, he said. “Just… Call us, and let us know you’re alright, ok?”. “I’ll be perfectly fine”, I smiled. “After what you said, about that acquaintance of yours…”, Sam muttered. “Don’t worry about me�� In fact, after I go home today, and for a week forward… Just forget I exist”, I said with a smile. “Now, that’s impossible”, Sam laughed. “Will you be back before next Thursday at least?”. “Why?”, I asked. He cleared his throat. “No reason…”.

I finished up, and drove home; already dreaming of my future second hand car, and the clothes I’d already bought for the trip. Eric had said I needed to be dressed suitably, and had even mailed me to let me know that I was free to buy lingerie on his card. I decided against that last part. I did not need him to know what I spent on underwear, or what I bought.

Eric was waiting on my porch, as I got out of my car. I grabbed the mail from the box, by the sidewalk. “I thought you told me we’d see each other in Dallas”, I said, as I made my way up the steps. “Why didn’t you just call?”. Eric looked coldly at me. “Why can’t I feel you?”, he demanded. I shook my head in confusion. “You… what?”, I said. “I can’t sense your emotions”, he growled, grabbing my shoulders, and placing himself in front of me. “What are you feeling?”. “Annoyance”, I said, pushing his arms off me. I unlocked my door, and stepped inside, creating a barrier between us. “You had my blood… Have you had any dreams about me?”, Eric asked. “No…”, I said. “Any visions or reactions at all?”. I rolled my eyes. “What is this? No, Dr. Northman. The prescribed drug did not have any weird side effects”.

I began looking through my mail. Behind an electrical bill, I found another envelope without sender. I swallowed hard. “If there’s nothing else…”, I said quietly. “What’s wrong?”, Eric said. “I thought you couldn’t feel my emotions”. My voice was shaking. “Your face”, he said. “Why are you afraid?”. I didn’t know what to say. Eric met my eyes, and held my gaze. “Tell me. I swore I’d keep you safe”. “We’re not in Dallas, yet”, I said. “Your responsibilities don’t start until then”. “My responsibilities to you started the moment I asked you to be mine”. “But I’m not yours”. Eric clenched his jaw, and took a step back. “Still… I have need for you in Dallas”, he said. “Anything that makes you this terrified, could mean you’re in danger. And I need you safe… Is this about that… guy in San Diego?”. It was clear Eric wasn’t used to using words like guy about someone.

I opened the envelope, and pulled out another picture of myself. On this one, I had my head on a man’s shoulder – Thomas’ shoulder. Thomas had been holding out the camera, to take the picture of the both of us, and the blissful expression on my face might come off as happy; but I knew better. I had been out of my mind on some kind of drug. Eric looked at the picture as I held it. “Not mine. Not Bills… His?”, he said. I scrunched up the picture, and threw it at the vampires head. “Stop asking who’s I am!”, I growled. “I’m my own. No one else’s!”. “Why?”, he asked. “I told you why…”. I nodded towards the crumbled-up paper on the porch. “That’s why. Because I don’t want someone to think they have the right to follow me around, and control me. Be they human, or vampire or… whatever!”.

Eric seemed unsure what to say; stumped, for the first time since I’d met him. I reminded myself I hadn’t known him very long – that I shouldn’t even be as open with him as I already was. “I’m… sorry”, I said. “Don’t be”, Eric said. “You’re having a perfectly human reaction. Which is good, as we need to convince everyone of that, when we go to the conference”. “Convince everyone?”, I said. “I am human”. “You’re not having normal reactions to my blood. You can’t be glamoured”, Eric said. “You are… something else”.

He seemed about to leave, apparently accepting that he wouldn’t be getting the answers he wanted tonight. I on the other hand, was not. I couldn’t spend four days with the man, if he was constantly questioning my humanity. “Have some of my blood”, I said; making Eric stop in his tracks. He looked hard into my eyes, and was suddenly standing inches from me, the only thing keeping us apart being the invisible barrier keeping Eric out of my home. “Why?”, he asked, almost inaudibly. “You’d be able to taste it… That I’m human”, I said. “Wouldn’t you?”. He nodded. “Please come in”.

Eric drew in a short breath, and took a step forward; keeping his eyes on mine. As he walked forwards, I stepped backwards, almost stumbling. Eric caught me by the waist, and my breath hitched. “How much would you need to… drink?”, I croaked. “Not much”, he answered softly. “But the more, the better”. “O-ok”, I said. “So, do I give you my wrist, or…?”. “I prefer the femoral arteries…”, Eric smiled. I frowned at him. “But your wrist, or your neck will be fine. Your choice”.

“Which will hurt less?”, I asked. Eric smiled slightly. “You’ve never been bitten before”, he said. “Not… bitten, no”, I said. He narrowed his eyes at me. “But someone has tasted you? How?”. I swallowed hard, and shook my head. “Long story”, I muttered. “Just tell me which will be less painful”. Erics eyes diverted to the exposed skin at the crook of my neck. “I know how to keep my bite as painless as possible”, he said. “Some of the humans I drink from even enjoy it. They tend to prefer the neck”. “Alright”, I said in a whisper. “Neck, then”.

I took a deep breath, and tilted my head slightly. Erics gaze softened; and to my surprise, he took my hand, leading me to sit down on my couch – taking a seat next to me himself. “Put your legs over mine”, he said; pulling at my knees, so my legs were splayed over his. He put an arm behind my back, and pulled me closer. “This way it’s more comfortable. Unless you prefer lying down…”. “This is fine”, I squeaked. “Turn towards me. Relax”, Eric said. I did as I was told, and blew out a deep breath. He ran his fingertips down my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I let my head rest against the vampire’s shoulder, and closed my eyes. I felt Erics cool breath against my neck, and he held a hand on the back of my head; tangling his fingers into my hair. “Gör det. Sluta vara svag…”. Eric was muttering to himself. ”What’s wrong?”, I whispered. ”Nothing”, he replied shortly, and pulled me impossibly closer. “Don’t move”. “Ok…”.

Eric pulled at the collar of my Merlotte’s t-shirt, and moved his lips closer to my neck. After a long moment, he let out a guttural groan, and I found myself alone on the couch; while Eric was standing at the other end of the room. “Did I do something wrong?”, I asked; suddenly feeling tears betray me – and I didn’t even know why. “Please don’t do that”, Eric said, looking almost afraid of the situation. I quickly wiped my eyes. “I’m sorry”. “And don’t apologize…”, he said. “I will see you in Dallas”. He was gone.

I locked all windows and doors, before going to bed – both happy, that soon I’d be far away from where Thomas could find me; and troubled by what had occurred between me and Eric.

---

My flight to Dallas was late in the afternoon. Eric and Pam’s travel coffins were already unloading when I got off the plane; and the sky was orange, letting me know sundown wasn’t far off. I made sure all luggage was accounted for; not wanting to risk the wrath of Eric’s underling. All I wanted to do was have a smoke to calm my nerves, but I’d promised not to for the duration of the job.

Once the final bag was in the trunk of the large sedan taking us to the vampire hotel, it was fully dark outside the hangar, and the lids of both coffins sprang open. Eric was already on his phone as he rose. “Yes, Isabel; I will see you there… That is not up for discussion… Is he coming…? Good”. He hung up his phone as he passed me; not looking at me. “Everything is accounted for”, I said quietly. “Of course it is”, he said, and entered the limo. Pam gave me a look out the corner of her eyes, and smirked – not meanly so, more as if she was amused.

I got in with the two vampires, and sat on the sideways seat. I’d never been in a limo before, and found it difficult to make myself comfortable, feeling very out of my element. Eric sat back in his seat, spreading his arms on the top of the backrest. Pam was filing her nails next to him. They looked like the perfect power-couple, had it not been for the fact that they were not lovers; more like brother and sister – or father and daughter. Theirs was an undefinable relationship; but it was clear who was the master, and who was the underling – though Eric seemed to have a great deal of respect, and maybe even love for Pam. I didn’t feel right asking, but I guessed he was her maker.

“Here’s the deal”, Eric said, finally looking at me. His tone was matter-of-factly, and hard. “Unless Pam or I tell you or gesture you to do otherwise, you stay behind us at all times. Most of the vampires at the conference are old, and have conservative views on how humans should behave in our presence. Remember that you are our inferior”. I didn’t respond. “Do you understand?”. “I can talk now?”, I sneered. Pam stifled a smile; whereas Eric almost snarled. “If you value your life, you’ll keep that smart mouth shut!”, he said. “Speak when you are spoken to, and never unless I – or Pam – tell you that it is alright”. “Ok”, I replied.

“The hotel will be full, so we booked rooms months ago”, Pam said, putting her file into her purse. “Eric and I will be in a suite. Your room is down the hall”. I hadn’t even thought about where I would be staying. “You’re on call from sunset until dawn”, Eric said. “Days are yours to do with as you want, unless we have errands for you… Speaking of which. Pam…”. Pam handed me a note. “What’s this?”, I asked. “The address off a photographer I’ve been in contact with”, Eric said. “He’s prepared a piece for me, that needs to be picked up tomorrow, before sunset”. “I’ll handle it”, I said. “Use the hotel car-service. I don’t want you calling a taxi, or taking a… bus”. He sounded like the word was putrid in and of itself. “It would be embarrassing if anyone found out”. “Appearance is everything”, Pam said. “Pam is right. You’re representing me in everything you do, these upcoming days”, Eric said. “Don’t let me down”. Apparently, Eric was done flirting, and in full business mode; and I decided I was better off for it.

At the hotel, a pair of bellboys brought in our luggage for us. Pam checked us in, while Eric went through messages on his phone. I stayed quiet, and focused on observing the people around me. I had never seen so many vampires in one room at once; not even in Fangtasia. Other humans were standing as I was, behind their vampire bosses; and a few of them had fang marks on their exposed skin. Everyone was looking very solemn, though there was an undertone of excitement.

I’d tried to dress for the occasion; in a dark blue button up dress, a cardigan, and flats. I played nervously with the button of my purse. “Stop fidgeting!”, Eric said, and looked down at my chest. “And don’t wear that cardigan again… You don’t look enough like dinner”. I took a deep breath. “Permission to speak?”, I muttered. “Granted”, he replied; a slight smile on his lips, as he put his phone back into his pocket. “You’re a dick, and I’ll wear whatever clothes I want to”, I said. His smile broadened. “I bought those clothes”, he said. “And when I checked the receipts, I didn’t see any lingerie on them… Going commando, sunshine?”. I gulped, having clearly lost this battle. Eric was back at it.

Pam returned with three keycards. “What did I miss?”, she asked. “Miss Sunday isn’t wearing any underwear”, Eric replied, and walked towards the elevators. Pam inclined her head, to look at my bottom. “I am too!”, I croaked, and followed the two of them into the small cabin.

My hotel room was larger than my living room at home, and there was a large tub in the bathroom; which I couldn’t wait to try out. Eric and Pam had gone to their suite to do whatever it was vampires did when they were alone; so I yelped in surprise when I found the Viking reclining on the large bed, as I reentered the room from having daydreamed about bubble-baths. “Don’t you need to be invited in?”, I asked. “This room is in my name, so no”, he said. “The conference doesn’t start officially until tomorrow night, but our first meeting is in 30 minutes”. “Alright, I’ll get my things”, I said. “No”, Eric said, sitting up. He patted the spot next to him on the bed. “Sit with me”. “I thought this was a business trip”, I said, trying – and failing – for confident. “Stop being difficult”, Eric said. “We need to have a conversation”.

I walked over and sat on the edge of the bed; keeping my feet on the floor. Eric turned his body, to sit next to me. “How is your acting?”, he asked. “I did Wicked in high school”, I shrugged. A smile ghosted Erics face. “Vampires will try to glamour you, maybe even tonight”, he said. “You need to be able to convince them that they’ve succeeded”. “I’ll handle it”, I said.

Eric put a large hand on my cheek, and turned my face towards his. “There is too much life in your eyes”, he said. “A glamoured human does not look like you. Look into my eyes”. I focused on his light-blue orbs, and felt a rush of blood straight to my core. “That’s even worse”, Eric said. I took a deep breath, and thought about anything but Eric; which was hard, as his hand was still on my cheek, and he was looking at me intently. I thought about the bath I was going to take later on; which turned in to thinking about Eric in the bathtub – bubbles strategically placed to cover his naked body. Then, I thought about my favorite flavors of ice-cream; which turned in to Eric feeding me the ice-cream – once again, naked.

“Think about nothing”, Eric said. “That’s impossible”, I sneered. “Nothingness”, he reiterated. “Think about the coldest darkest thing you can imagine, but don’t let it scare you. A glamoured human is not afraid, unless the vampire wants them to be”. I let my mind disappear into a cold, dark cave; saw only mist. “Good”, Eric whispered. He stroked my temple, and I parted my lips; needing to remind myself to breathe. Leaning in close, Eric was soon brushing his nose against mine. “Eric…”, I said. “Say yes. Be mine”, he breathed. I sighed, and pulled back. “No…”. Eric put his forehead to mine, and closed his eyes, as if in pain. “Liv…”. His voice was almost pleading. “I can’t… Eric, I can’t”.

Eric stood up abruptly. I almost fell forwards from the lack of contact. “We will have to pretend in front of everyone else”, he said; his tone brusque. “As I cannot feel you, we will have to use vampire law to keep you alive”. “I can… pretend”, I said. “As long as you know…”. “You’ve made yourself clear, sunshine”, he said. “Get your things, we have a meeting to attend. And put on some underwear”. “I’m wearing underwear!”.

---

We went to a suite down the hall. Pam was flipping through a magazine in a recliner, and gave Eric a look when we entered. “Jag kunde ha hämtat henne”, she muttered. “You seemed busy”, Eric replied to whatever it was she’d said. A half-naked red-haired woman walked out from one of the doors; looking pale and blissful. “She’s good for another sip”, Pam said. The woman stopped in front of Eric and smiled seductively at him. He waved her away with a flick of his fingers. “I’m good”, he said; and the woman left the room with a disappointed look on her face – closing the door behind her. Pam scanned my body. “She seems whole”, she said. “Unless…”. Her eyes travelled down to the apex of my thighs; still covered by the dress. “Behave”, Eric said. “We have company coming”.

He walked over to Pam, took the magazine, and quickly discarded it in a cabinet over the bar. Pam got up to stand, and brushed non-existing lint off her pink pantsuit. Eric seemed tense. His jaw was clenched, and his posture was straighter than usual. “Clean this place up!”, he grunted, and fluffed a throw-pillow from the chair Pam had been seated in. “Who’s coming?”, I asked. “Someone you will show every reverence!”, Eric said. “Yes, sir”, I muttered, annoyance seeping through in my words. His lips twitched slightly, and he went to stand in front of me. “You’re about to meet a vampire more powerful than you can imagine”, he said. “He is older than me; much older – and he is the host of this convention. The sheriff of Area 9”. “Alright… So, what do I do?”, I asked. “You keep quiet. For your own sake”, he responded; and looked me over. He pulled my cardigan down my shoulders, and off me, before I could protest. “There. Dinner”.

There was a knock on the door, and Eric quickly led me to stand by the window at the far wall from the entrance. Pam went to open for the guests, and a tall vampire, wearing a cowboy hat came into the room. I stifled a smile; finding him ridiculous to look at. This is the ancient vampire I’m supposed to show reverence?, I thought to myself.

The vampire spoke with a Texas-twang, sounding unbelievably bored. “All hail Godric. Sheriff of Area 9, leader of…”. “That’s enough Stan. Everyone knows who I am”, a soft, young-sounding voice said from behind him. Cowboy-Stan stepped aside, revealing a young-looking vampire; with dark hair and intense, ageless eyes. I knew him; and a flashback of both pain, fear and relief filled my whole being. A darkhaired female vampire came in behind him. She was luxuriously dressed, sort of the Latina version of Pam; though less pink.

Eric went down on one knee in front of the vampire with the intense gaze; almost crumbling in his presence. “Godric…”, he breathed almost inaudibly. “Min son”, Godric replied with a slight smile. Eric got back up to stand; and though he towered at least a foot over the other sheriff, he seemed much smaller in stature due to his veneration of him. Godric walked further into the room, and looked towards Pam. “Pamela…”, he said. “Grand-sire…”, she replied, and nodded her head. It was clear to me now, that Godric was Erics maker.

As Godric came into the middle of the room – Eric staying close behind him – he looked around, and locked eyes with me. I felt my cheeks redden, and looked down at the floor. “This meeting was supposed to be unofficial”, Stan snarled. “Why is there a human here?”. “Maybe she’s dinner”, the darkhaired female said. “Isabel!”, Godric said. “If you are hungry, I am sure sheriff Northman can offer you a bottle of TruBlood”. “She smells good…”, Stan muttered, and I felt a pang of fear go through my body. “Miss Sunday is mine”, Eric said. Godrics eyes travelled between me and Eric, and he raised a brow slightly.

The vampires all sat down, and I stayed in my place by the window; not knowing what I was supposed to do other than stand still, and try not to get eaten. A conversation commenced between all four, in what seemed to be at least 3 different languages. The only one I understood was Stan, who didn’t say much – save, “Fuck that”, and “We need to act now!” – and he kept looking at me, like he hadn’t fed in weeks. It was terrifying; and for all the safety Eric had promised me, I was feeling none at the moment. Then there was Godric; a vampire I had many questions for. Like for instance, why I had a crazy stalker back on my trail, when he was supposed to have forgotten all about me.

After about 15 minutes of trying to keep from shaking, Godric looked up at me. “Eric, ask your human to sit with us. She looks tired”. “I’m fine”, I said quietly. Eric looked out the corner of his eyes at me. “Sit down, Liv”, he said. The only seat left was on the couch, between Eric and Godric; so, I sat down there – finally feeling a sense of security that I wouldn’t be eaten just yet.

“Let us continue in English”, Godric said. “Godric, we should…”, Isabel began. “I will glamour Miss Sunday if needed”, Eric said. A smile ghosted Godrics face. “No, I will”, Stan said. Eric tensed up, and bared his fangs. “Can we finish our meeting in a civil manner?”, Godric said, an edge to his voice. “Eric…”. The Viking pulled his fangs back, and relaxed his body slightly.

“How long have you been with Eric, miss Sunday?”, Godric asked. “We have known each other for…”, Eric began. “I was asking Liv”, Godric said. He pronounced my name as Eric had, the first time we met. Leev. I couldn’t help but smile slightly, but returned to a more solemn expression, when Pam raised a brow at me. “Not long”, I said quietly. “And he protects you well?”, Godric said. “Hasn’t had a reason too… yet”, I said. “Give it time… You strike me as someone with a low sense of self-preservation”, he replied. It was Eric’s turn to smile. “Well, I do have a past with dangerous men”, I said. For the first time since he entered the room, Godric met my eyes again. He looked confused. “And you’ve been hurt since?”, he asked. “Not…”, I began. “Godric, with all due respect; we do have more important things to discuss, than this…”, Stan interrupted me. “I think enough has been said on the topic for one night”, Godric said. “And I want to have a conversation with this human”.

Godric reached for my hand, and turned it; apparently checking for fang-marks. His grasp was gentle, and his hand looked very different around my wrist, than it had around the neck of Thomas, the year before. My breath hitched lightly, and Godric immediately let go of me. “You’ve fed from Eric?”, he asked. “I… Yes”, I said. “Stan, Isabel; leave us”. The two vampires left the room quicker than I could turn my head.

“Godric, jag…”, Eric began. “Blodet är heligt”, Godric said. “Jag ville skydda henne!”. Eric seemed to shrink in his seat. “Du vet du inta kan ljuga för mig”. “Det ville jag aldrig gjöra…”. “Then maybe you are lying to yourself”. Godrics voice was even, but hard. “You have not fed from her”. “Not yet”, Eric said; making me swallow hard. Godric inclined his head towards me. “Liv, you have nothing to fear from the Dallas vampires. But you will have to keep up your ruse of being Erics… And you will have to do a better job of pretending”.

Godric stood up, and the rest of us followed. “I will see you at the opening ceremony tomorrow”, he said. “I’ve had a host-gift prepared, that I am sure will be… suitable to your tastes”, Eric said. “Two sticks and a bowl of mud?”, Godric asked, an overbearing smile on his face. “Like the good old days”, Eric said. Something unspoken, that seemed to amuse the both of them, passed between the vampires; and Godric left the room.

Pam went to get her magazine out of the cabinet, seemingly ready to get back to browsing through the latest fashions from Paris. “I think I need a drink”, I muttered. “Go change. We’re invited to a private party at the hotel bar”, Eric said. That date I had with the bathtub in my room, seemed further and further away. “I am not going to that thing”, Pam said. “I know you’re not. I remember what happened last time”, Eric retorted. “That wasn’t my fault”, Pam said. “And his fangs grew back eventually”.

Eric rolled his eyes, before looking at me. “Go!”, he said. “What am I supposed to wear?”, I asked. “I’ve never been to a private vampire-party”. “You look like dinner now”, Pam said snarkily. “Think dessert”.

[popculturebuffet]

Legend of the Three Caballeros: Labyrinth and Repeat Review (Commissioned by WeirdKev27)

Saludos Amigos! We’re back on the Ride of the Three Cablleros as I intend to knock this wonderful series out at a steady cliip, and since I THOUGHT the premire was a two parter, it still ends on a cliffhanger but it’s too early to tell if this is just normal for this series like say Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts, where it’s really more one continuous story, or just the end of the pilot. For now with all the exposition out of the way from part 1, we can jump right into the thick of things where we picked off.  PREVIOUSLY ON LEGEND OF THE THREE CABLLEROS: Donald had an enormously shitty birthday, loosing his job, his house and his nightmarish harpy.. er his girlfriend, all in one day. Things went up a bit though when he inhereted a Cabana belonging to his ancestor Clinton Coot and met two new pals: Ladies Man Jose Caricoca and loveable weirdo like myself Pancito Romero A Lot of Other Names Gonzales. The three soon had a yard sale with the various treasures inside the cabana and got an offer for a million dollars for the cabana and all inside from local waiter’s nightmare Baron Von Sheldgoose, whose deal includes a jewel incrusted golden atlas. Upon finding it our boys were attacked by a human goddess who popped out of the book and that’s where we pick up. 

Good. Let’s begin. So Xandra, said goddess, is holding our heroes at arrow point with their attempts to defuse the situation falling flat and their attempt to understandably flee by claming to be the cabs failing pretty much immidatley. We do get some good gags including Jose accidently telling Xandra she smells like feta cheese in greek. But lucky for our boys before Xandra can do a murder on them Donald accidently shuts the book.. and finds out she disappears when he does that. Cue our loveable idiots opening and closing the book for a while, easily one of the best bits of the episode. I will say while the pilot was pretty good comedy wise this episode solidfies how funy the series is. The series is at times a barrage of wonderful jokes and set pieces and it is awesome to behold.  Also a breif thing before we get back to the plot... Xandra is indeed human, or at least looks like one. Normally i’m against this as honestly Ducks just mesh better with Dogfaces, other birds and other anthromorphic animals. It just works better and is more consitent to have a world that’s simply anthro animals and non-anthro animals. But.. it works for me here since so the human characters.. are all gods. While i’d of PREFFERED them to still be non humans, like Ducktales does, it works since she’s not really a human but a god and thus it comes off more as her being something inherently diffrent and otherworldly, but something that’s not so distracting it pulls focus away from the rest of the cast, just otherworldly to our heroes.

So while our boy screw with the goddess who you know, tried to murder them for flimsy reasons without stopping to ask why three strangers look exactly like her friends, we get to know the triplets better. I also get a better bead on what voices Jessica is using. May is using Jessica’s Lynn voice, just a touch higher since May isn’t a preteen, while April, the one in yellow, uses the voice she’d later use for candace. Junes is a BIT like Lucy, but with obviously way more energy and emotion. But it’s clear the three are smart confident and willing to run a scheme, and easily get a thousand bucks out of sheldgoose for the spooky purple ring he saw last episode in a really chortleriffic bit where May serves as an auctioneer while her sisters up the price by bidding thus tricking Sheldgoose into paying. They also get past him having a claim on it as he dosen’t have a receipt or anything else other than a verbal contract with Donald, one that wasn’t even complete since the boys hadn’t brought out the atlas, so they were within their rights to fleece him for the ring.. even if him getting it at all is going to backfire, they had no way of knowing that so it’s whatever.  Back in the house the boys have apparently done the  book thing on Xandra about a hundred times, and Xandra FINALLY grabs the book. At least our boys are bonding. But while threatening them again , she finds out they don’t know what happened.. and recongiing clinton int he painting realizess time has passed, these boys are her boys decendants, and perhaps some explination is in order since she’s lost in a strange world. 

So after unveling a bookmark that allows her to project out of the book without being trapped, Xandra gives us our backstory: long ago, in a distant land I Aku master of darkness unleashed an unspeakable evil... wait sorry wrong narration. Long ago Xandra was guardian of the Atlas, which is explained to be the key to various magical hot spots around the world where various myths come from. Things were fine.. until the evil Lord Felldrake decided to screw it all up, binding Xandra to the book and using it to cause chaos and try and take over the world. All was lost till the Cabs stopped him, freed Xandra best they could, and then journed the world with them till she tragically was shut inside the book and seemingly lost. For whatever reason Clinton never opened the book, we’ll presumibly find out later, and well.. here she is.  Xandra is voiced by, unsuprisingly given this project’s all-star cast, voice acting vetran and modern legend of the buisness Grey DeLisle, also credited as Grey Griffith for a time. And like tress she has a rather massive and awesome resume, which naturally i’ll be going into since usually I go into shows mid way and don’t get to do this: Grey’s notable rolls include Daphne Blake ever since What’s New, Scooby Doo?, Lor from Weekenders, still not on plus and I will not let that fact go till I get a valid reason why not, Crazy Cat Lady and Lizzie Divine, Mandy, Doctor Ghastly, Kimiko Tohomiko, Sam Manson, Frankie Foster, Azula, Riley Daring, Freida Suarez, Black Canary (Brave and the Bold), Fire, Dr. Holiday, Aya, Master Nadia, Magpie, Moon Butterfly, Jackie Lynn Thomas, Lola Loud, Lana Loud, Lily Loud, and Martin Prince following Russi Taylors tragic passing, just to give you an idea of how long, varied and wonderful her career and range is. And to give a certain person paying for this review an idea of some of the shows i’m familiar with. Moving on.  Despite learning of their family legacy of heroics, our heroes are planning to still sell the book given Donald and Jose are poor, and Panchito’s giving in to peer pressure. Seriously Camil is already the MVP of the series, easily the best part of it and it’s a shame he wasn’t brought back for Ducktales, especially since by season 2 frank was aware of legend and Jamie had been on the show before. But Xandra offers them a life of adventure and heroisim.. and when that fails points out theirs treasure and the boys agree to hear her out.  So after showing some off Xandra takes them to a Labyrinth to retreive three mystic amulets, and goads Donald into going in by challenging his Ego after he tries to refuse to go. Panchito is naturally fully on board with a dangerous adventure and Jose is talked into it after Xandra pulls an explination why she can’t go out of her firmly toned ass that theirs a mystic barrier which he buys. So while Xandra conjurs a chair and a coconut drink to relax and wait to see if they die or not, our boys head in.  They find a massive, beautiful labyrnith and a large house containing a minotaur. Sadly i’ts not Ferdinand aka the Minotaur who worked as Wonder Woman’s chef, cooking up damn good vegetarian goodies for her at the Thymsicarian Embasy. All of this is real things that happened and all are things that should be in the next fucking movie. Seriously as much of a mess as Wonder Woman 1984 is, i’d buy a ticket in a heartbeat caution to teh wind if it was announced he was being adapted for it. He’s also very smart, kind and loyal if you were wondering. Get yourself a man like feridnand if your into men. 

Anyways Jose once again tries to speak a languge, and thus we get about a minute of Eric Bauza saying the word moo... sometimes... most times really.. I REALLY, REALLY love my job. But with the bull pissed off and going super sayian god super sayian, there’s only one thing left for our heroes to do...

So they do and we get a great gag where Donald, when deciding wether to split up as to lower the possiblity of him getting hit, has TWO shoulder devils, because inside every man is a battle between good and evil that evil usually wins while dancing and singing a jaunty toon over good’s grave. 

But it naturally backfires and the two devils tell him he’s on his own. So we get a fun chase sequence with the three before Donald finally decides fuck it we can fight back. Noticing Panchito’s talent with a rope, he has him rope and ride the Minotaur which he does, then uses Jose’s hankerchief to lure the minotaur and beat him. It’s a gorgeous, fun action sequence that shows off the series is as cool as it is fricking hilaroius.  So our heroes find the amulets, a blue one for donald, a red for panchito and green for jose, and put em on, proudly telling Xandra. It’s then revealed the Minotaur.. is an old friend of hers and this was just a test to see if they could work together and you know.. not die. They can, and she’s proud and plesantly suprised by how good they are.  So our heroes return home, Xandra storring the atlas on her back, and all three suitably impressed. Their further impressed when they find a hidden lair with more treasure, and three sets of armor, their ancestors old armor which as it did in the teaser at the start of the series, looks REALLY fucking cool and comes from various civlizations. Just.. lovely to look at. Our heroes pose.. and the nieces find them, wonder what’s going on, and mention Sheldgoose at the door, apparnelty not phased to meet a god or that their surrogate uncle has a hlemet.  Sheldgoose has come to offer the money.. and it’s REALLY tempiting. Donald has lost EVERYTHING remember, this money could help win Daisy back, get him a fancy house still in new quackmore.. even a third of a million is still enough to set someone as humble and easy to please as donald for life. But.. it’s here where this episode succeds where the premire fell. By this point we’ve SEEN Donald’s weaknsses: he’s greedy, short sighted and selfish. So it makes it THAT MUCH more impactful when he does the right thing, tearing up the check and refusing to sell out his legacy. Sure this could make his life better.. but it’s not worth his soul, his new friends or the world’s safety. He may not be able to get Daisy back or a new house.. but he’d NEVER be able to repalce his new friends, his legacy, or his wonderful new home.  Sheldgoose naturally throws a fit and vows vengance and what have you... and just as naturally gets dragged away by his ring. Like the boys he’s brought to a mystic secret chamber by a family heirloom.. but unlike the boys we get a wonderful sequence of him being slammed into things while Wayne Knight makes delightful noises.

But Sheldgoose finds thanks to the ring he was drawn to a styigan well leading to a talking staff... Felldrake surivived, if trapped in the staff.. and  he’s Baron’s ancestor, himself a sheldgoose who urges his decsendant to take the staff, accept his destiny and thus Sheldgoose revels in his new power as he and feldrake summon Feldrake’s loyal minon.  

So we end on Donald happy. His day was crappy to start.. but while he lost his house, his shrew and his job.. he’s found a new purpose saving the world, an ew life of adventure.. and forever friends in his two new amigos and goddess mentor. He’s finally happy. OR he is for a a second before Feldrake’s minon emerges from it’s sarcophagus and runs off with donald. TO BE CONTINUED. Not doing the jojo gag this time. 

 Before we go on one last cast member; Kevin Micheal Richardson is Felldrake, and he is unsuprisingly awesome and like Grey has a long and storied career.. you know the drill by now: He’s voiced  the Narrator for Clerks the Animated Series, Robert Hawkins (Static’s Dad), Dark Laser, Numbah 5′s dad who was a VERY poorly aged refrence to Bill Cosby, Mammoth, Trigon, Armagedddroid (Something I never realized holy shit good on him), Captain Gantu, The Joker, Pandabubba, Principal Lewis, Schnitzel, Tombstone, Omega Supreme, Cleavland Junior (They drove a dump truck full of money up to his house he’s not made of stone), Mal Duncan, Doctor Fate, Man Ape, Kilowogg, Sheriff Blubs, William Viceroy , Mr. Gus, Rhombulous, Shredder (TMNT 2012), Rosie Rosevelt, Coach Mitchell (Seriously watch Milo Murphy’s Law, we need a season 3), and Dot’s Zit. As you can tell the guy is VERY good at villians so he was a natural choice. 

Final Thoughts: This was a huge improvment. With the miserable parts of the pilot long gone this episode is a fun, breezy adventure that sets up our heroes, the series tone, and our bad guy some more while giving us tons of great gags. I highly look forward to whatever comes next and cannot wait for the next episode. Until then, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

[weirdlyhornyforegos]

Eric Derekson x reader

@narukorose3333 : Hi. this is the first time I'm sending request in on anyone's page I was wondering if you will be able to do 18,85 and 77 for Eric, but if that's too much you can leave one out, I love reading you fanfics. Thank you for being amazing!!

18: “Are you wearing my shirt?” & 77:“Tell me what you like.” & 85: “Did you dress up just for me?”

MINORS DNI! For being a first-time requester, you certainly got me down to a T

When Eric gets into headquarters that morning, there is something different about him. There is nothing very noticeable, he hasn’t cut his hair, changed his glasses, or anything like that, but there is something.

It takes you almost the whole day to realise what it is. The shirt he is wearing is not his. It’s yours. It’s one of those shirts that you just by happenstance don’t wear often, meaning it mostly stays in the back of your closet. 

It doesn’t fit quite right on Eric, but it looks better on him you think than it ever did on you. You surmise he must have taken it when he slept over at your place a few days ago. The thought of it, and seeing him in your shirt, makes a warm feeling settle in your stomach. 

You end up cornering him in the kitchen while he makes coffee, coming up silently behind him, and putting your hands on his waist, making him jump as you speak into his ear. 

“Are you wearing my shirt?” Eric squeaks, and you can tell he’s starting to blush already. 

“You know, you could have just asked for one of my shirts instead of taking it.” You kiss at his neck, resting your head on his shoulder while he starts to talk. 

“I, I just... I just thought it looked, nice, and I-” You hum and slip your hands around him, pulling him close to you, making him squirm in your grasp. 

“It does look nice on you, I think you should keep it... You look very good in my clothes, makes me a little hot under the collar to be honest with you.” That last sentence is barely above a whisper, as you can hear someone walking towards the kitchen. 

You let go of Eric, he grips the counter so hard you think he might fall over if he lets go. Chuckling, you give his cheek a brief kiss before leaving the room, giving a quick wave to Wilford as you pass him right outside the door. You can hear Wilford ask Eric why he is so red, and Eric saying it’s nothing, clearly flustered. You grin to yourself, starting to whistle as you walk away. 

----- 

A few hours later, it’s time to go home. To your delight, Eric and you had already planned for him to come home with you to eat dinner tonight the last time he had been over. Eric follows you in his own car, and you can’t help but check the back mirror several times, already planning out what’s going to happen when the two of get to your destination. 

When you have parked your car in its usual spot, you lean against it, waiting for Eric to park his own. When he gets over to you, you push yourself off the car, taking his hand in yours and give him a quick kiss. 

You can tell Eric is becoming more and more flustered as you walk hand in hand together to your apartment. Unlocking your door, you take the two of you inside, taking off your coat and shoes as soon as you’re inside, Eric doing the same. You take on of his hands in yours, kissing his knuckles and bringing his attention to you. 

“Did you dress up just for me?” Eric stutters for a little bit, opening and closing his mouth several times, before just nodding as an answer. He’s blushing hard, and you can’t help but to find him adorable and hot at the same time. 

You pull Eric close, letting the hand not holding his fall on his hip. You kiss him, lips sliding over his as you start to pull at him. The kisses are slow, slightly uncoordinated as you start to walk backwards, pulling him with you without breaking the kiss. 

When you feel the couch at the back of your shins, you sit down, pulling Eric down with you. The kiss breaks, and Eric gasps as he finds himself in your lap. You grin up at him, hands resting on his hips. You lean in for a quick kiss on his lips, moving down to pepper kisses along your neck. Eric squirms in your lap, grabbing ahold of your shoulders as yours squeeze his waist. 

“Tell me what you like.” You hear Eric try to answer, but the only sound that comes out is stuttering. You let him take his time, simply kissing more of his neck, even sucking a small hickey at on point, hands simply resting against his hips as he tries to gather himself enough to answer.

“Your hand and f-fi-fingers.” You hum, abandoning his neck on favor of kissing his lips again.

“Good.” Eric blushes even more at the praise. You keep kissing him, he kisses back with hesitant enthusiasm. You let one of your hands slip from his hip to his front, pressing down slightly. Eric draws in a sharp breath at the pressure at his cock and breaks away from your kissing, but rocks into the touch. You palm at his cock, feeling it harden under your hand, and listen to all the little noises Eric make.

When your hand leaves Eric cock, he lets out a little whine, but then your hand is opening the button on his pants, and then dragging his zipper down. You push down his underwear, letting his cock spring free. Eric shivers slightly, and then your hand is on his cock. He moans, and bucks into your hand. You give a light squeeze before beginning to move. 

You set a slow tempo at first. You barely move your hand, there’s almost no friction, just your hand sliding up and down with almost no pressure. Eric whines, hands moving from your shoulders to your hair, pulling you into a kiss. You grin, thumbing at his head as he kisses you.

Eric can’t stop moving his hips, and soon he’s breaking away inbetween kisses to breathlessly ask for more.

You let him do it a few times before speeding up, using the ample amount of pre-cum he’s already leaking to lube up your hand. Your hand on his hip urge him to thrust into your hand in time with your movements. He does so, breaking away from your kissing once more. Wanting to have your lips on him still, you move back to his neck, planting kisses all over it while he rocks int your hand with breathless moans.

Eric tells you he’s close by low whispers of your name, barely there and pleading. You encourage him by speeding up even more, the movement making sounds that makes Eric get even redder. He comes hard, covering your hand and the front of your shirts with his cum. You stroke him through it, feeling him shake apart in your grasp. You let go of his cock, gripping his hips with both hands once more and kissing him. 

You rearrange the two of you so Eric is on his back on the couch, with you settled inbetween his legs. Eric gives you a questioning look, and you smile at him.

“That was only my hand, you said you wanted my fingers too.” Eric eyes widen as he realises the meaning of your words. His hands moves to take his shirt (your shirt) off when you begin with his pants, but you stop him.

“No, keep it on.” A quick once over, and a lick of lips. “For me.”

“Oh, ok- okay.” You pull his pants off completely, sitting back to enjoy the sight of him. His hair is a mess, his glasses is askew, the shirt (your shirt) is covered in his cum. You resist the urge to keep staring, instead leaning down to kiss him. 

“I’m going to get lube, and then I’ll be right back, you just lay here and stay pretty for me okay?” Eric nods, and you get up, quickly going to the bedroom and finding the lube. You have half a mind to move you and Eric in here, but that’s for later.

Instead you admire the view of him as you get back in the living room. Settling back down between his legs, you give him quick kiss. Leaning back a little, you cover your fingers in lube. Eric watches you with nervous energy, his hands twisting up in your (his?) shirt. 

Your hand goes between his legs, briefly letting your hand slide over his cock. One finger probes and pushes gently into him, and Eric gasps. You move slow, letting Eric adjust to the feeling. 

Shifting around a little, you’re able to lean down and softly start to kiss along Eric’s cock, which is slowly getting interested in things again. Eric gasps at your mouth and finger working him slowly, his hands moving to grasp at your hair. 

You lick a long stripe from the base of his cock to the very tip, and at the same time you add another finger into Eric. Eric moans, trying to move down on your fingers as best as he can.

Two fingers soon turn to three, and it’s not long before Eric is a gasping, shivering, breathless mess. His attention split between your mouth and fingers, he can hardly seem to decide which he wants more. He rocks into both, urgent movements telling you that he’s close. You listen to all the wonderful noises he makes as he gets closer and closer to the edge.

As he shakes apart from your actions a second time, your lips are around his cock, swallowing as much as you can. What spills out from your lips you lick up as Eric tries to catch his breath, sensitive cock twitching. You sit up a little, Eric legs resting on either side of you, utterly boneless. He watches you with wonder in his gaze. 

You almost laugh as you realise his glasses are still on. Leaning down, you gently take them off and drop them on the ground next to his pants, and kiss him. Eric makes a noise in the back of his throat, spent and satisfied. 

As you start to get up, Eric protest and stops you with his hands on your hips.

“What, what about you?” You smile at him, moving his hands off your hips.

“I can wait. Now, let’s get you to bed.” You get off the couch, pulling Eric with you towards the bedroom. Once in there, you get the two of you into bed. Eric cuddles close, and falls asleep not long after. Ignoring your own arousal, you try to do the same. 

But once Eric wakes, if he lets you, you’re going to fuck him into the mattress.

[viktorfredriksson]

Oscarstippning 2021

Sent omsider är det dags för årets Oscarsgala. Efter det kanske tuffaste året någonsin för filmbranschen råder det såklart andra förutsättningar än vanligt. Många filmer med planerad premiär under fjolåret har blivit framflyttade, och möjligheten att uppleva de filmer som faktiskt har släppts har varit mycket begränsad. Att uppmärksamma bra filmer känns därför viktigare än någonsin. 

Oscarsgalan är den 93:e i ordningen. Den kommer, precis som föregående två år, inte ha någon enskild värd. På grund av omständigheterna kommer galan att hållas på både Dolby Theatre och Union Station i Los Angeles samtidigt. Exakt på vilket sätt återstår att se, men galans producenter har sagt att »the plan is to stage an intimate, in-person event at Union Station in Los Angeles, with additional show elements live from the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.«

I vanlig ordning har jag tippat samtliga kategorier – vinnare i fetstil. 

Best Picture

“The Father” (David Parfitt, Jean-Louis Livi and Philippe Carcassonne, producers)

“Judas and the Black Messiah” (Shaka King, Charles D. King and Ryan Coogler, producers)

“Mank” (Ceán Chaffin, Eric Roth and Douglas Urbanski, producers)

“Minari” (Christina Oh, producer)

“Nomadland” (Frances McDormand, Peter Spears, Mollye Asher, Dan Janvey and Chloé Zhao, producers)

“Promising Young Woman” (Ben Browning, Ashley Fox, Emerald Fennell and Josey McNamara, producers)

“Sound of Metal” (Bert Hamelinck and Sacha Ben Harroche, producers)

“The Trial of the Chicago 7” (Marc Platt and Stuart Besser, producers)

David Finchers »Mank« är galans mest nominerade film (tio stycken) men favoritskapet i den största kategorin ligger hos Chloé Zhaos lågmälda neo-Western »Nomadland«, med vinster på Producers Guild Award (PGA), Directors Guild Award (DGA), BAFTA och Golden Globe. 

Det enda som talar emot »Nomadland« är vinsten för »The Trial of the Chicago 7« på Screen Actors Guild Awards (SAG). Det är ett pris som historiskt sett har korrelerat starkt med vinnaren för Bästa Film på Oscarsgalan – främst på grund av att skådespelare är den största röstande grenen inom Akademin. Faktum kvarstår dock att »Nomadland« inte ens nominerades för Best Ensembe (som är motsvarande Best Picture på SAG) eftersom filmen inte har någon ensemble, utan drivs av Frances McDormands ensamma huvudkaraktär. 

De som utmanar närmast efter »The Trial of the Chicago 7« är »Minari« och »Promising Young Woman«. De senaste åren har som bekant bjudit på flera skrällar (»Moonlight« och »Parasite«), och därmed är kampen långt ifrån avgjord, men i år känns inte utmanaren lika tydlig. Aaron Sorkin misslyckades med att landa en nominering för bästa regi för »The Trial of the Chicago 7«, och momentum för »Minari« och »Promising Young Woman« känns inte tillräckligt starkt för att lyckas hela vägen. Själv har jag endast haft möjlighet att se fem av de åtta nominerade (ej sett »The Father«, »Minari« eller »Sound of Metal«). De jag har sett har hållit hyfsad jämnhög kvalitet, utan att riktigt nå hela vägen. 

Best Director

Thomas Vinterberg (“Another Round”)

David Fincher (“Mank”)

Lee Isaac Chung (“Minari”)

Chloé Zhao (“Nomadland”)

Emerald Fennell (“Promising Young Woman”)

Oavsett om »Nomadland« går hela vägen eller ej så tror jag att Chloé Zhao står mer eller mindre ohotad för sin regi. Vid vinst blir hon blott den andra kvinnan i filmhistorien (efter Kathryn Bigelow för »The Hurt Locker«) att lyckas med det. 

Best Actor in a Leading Role

Riz Ahmed (“Sound of Metal”)

Chadwick Boseman (“Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom”)

Anthony Hopkins (“The Father”)

Gary Oldman (“Mank”)

Steven Yeun (“Minari”)

Om Hopkins skulle ta hem det vore han som 83-åring den äldsta vinnaren i kategorin någonsin. Riz Ahmed skulle vara den första muslimska mannen. Allting talar dock för Chadwick Boseman, som endast 43 år gammal gick bort i cancer i augusti i fjol. 

Best Actress in a Leading Role

Viola Davis (“Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom”)

Andra Day (“The United States v. Billie Holiday”)

Vanessa Kirby (“Pieces of a Woman”)

Frances McDormand (“Nomadland”)

Carey Mulligan (“Promising Young Woman”)

Förmodligen galans mest öppna kategori på förhand, då samtliga fem har vunnit priser under galasäsongen. Vanessa Kirby kan sannolikt räknas bort men övriga fyra har alla reella chanser. Andra Day tror jag dock faller bort på grund av att filmen inte är lika populär (och därmed sedd) som de övriga. Vidare har Frances McDormand redan belönats med två Oscars tidigare, den senaste för bara tre år sedan. Även Viola Davis har varit en återkommande favorit hos Akademin. I »Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom« spelar hon en fysisk och utagerande roll, vilket brukar premieras i sammanhanget. Min röst faller dock på Carey Mulligan. Hon har inte nominerats sedan genombrottet i »An Education« för elva år sedan, men är en personlig favorit med starka roller i bland annat »Drive«, »Inside Llewyn Davis« och »Shame«. Hennes roll i »Promising Young Woman« är en av årets mest debatterade – förmodligen på både gott och ont. 

Best Actor in a Supporting Role

Sacha Baron Cohen (“The Trial of the Chicago 7”)

Daniel Kaluuya (“Judas and the Black Messiah”)

Leslie Odom Jr. (“One Night in Miami”)

Paul Raci (“Sound of Metal”)

Lakeith Stanfield (“Judas and the Black Messiah”)

Allt pekar på att Kaluuya kraftfulla gestaltning av Fred Hampton räcker för vinst. Hans största risk är förmodligen att Stanfield är nominerad i samma kategori för samma film, vilket skulle kunna »stjäla« röster från Kaluuya, men det ska mycket till. 

Best Actress in a Supporting Role

Maria Bakalova (‘Borat Subsequent Moviefilm”)

Glenn Close (“Hillbilly Elegy”)

Olivia Colman (“The Father”)

Amanda Seyfried (“Mank”)

Yuh-jung Youn (“Minari”)

Glenn Close har tidigare aldrig vunnit en Oscar, trots sju nomineringar. Så sent som 2019 var hon favorittippad för sin roll i »The Wife« men föll på målsnöret mot Olivia Colman. En slags hedersoscar vore därför inte otänkbart, men givet den relativit anonyma filmen hon är nominerad för tror jag inte det kommer hända. Bisarrt nog är Maria Bakalova en av favoriterna, men efter att SAG och BAFTA gått till Yuh-jjung Youn är det hennes statyett att förlora. 

Best Animated Feature Film

“Onward” (Pixar)

“Over the Moon” (Netflix)

“A Shaun the Sheep Movie: Farmageddon” (Netflix)

“Soul” (Pixar)

“Wolfwalkers” (Apple TV Plus/GKIDS)

Ett annat år vore hyllade »Wolfwalkers« ett säkert bet, men »Soul« är en av Pixars bästa och mest kreativa skapelser på många år. Dessutom nominerad för ljud och musik. 

Best Adapted Screenplay

“Borat Subsequent Moviefilm.” Screenplay by Sacha Baron Cohen, Anthony Hines, Dan Swimer, Peter Baynham, Erica Rivinoja, Dan Mazer, Jena Friedman, Lee Kern; Story by Sacha Baron Cohen, Anthony Hines, Dan Swimer, Nina Pedrad

“The Father,” Christopher Hampton and Florian Zeller

“Nomadland,” Chloé Zhao

“One Night in Miami,” Kemp Powers

“The White Tiger,” Ramin Bahrani

Best Original Screenplay

“Judas and the Black Messiah.” Screenplay by Will Berson, Shaka King; Story by Will Berson, Shaka King, Kenny Lucas, Keith Lucas

“Minari,” Lee Isaac Chung

“Promising Young Woman,” Emerald Fennell

“Sound of Metal.” Screenplay by Darius Marder, Abraham Marder; Story by Darius Marder, Derek Cianfrance

“The Trial of the Chicago 7,” Aaron Sorkin

En duell mellan »Promising Young Woman« och »The Trail of the Chicago 7«. Personligen tycker jag att Sorkin har gjort mycket som är av betydligt högre kvalitet än »The Trial...«. 

Best Original Song

“Fight for You,” (“Judas and the Black Messiah”). Music by H.E.R. and Dernst Emile II; Lyric by H.E.R. and Tiara Thomas

“Hear My Voice,” (“The Trial of the Chicago 7”). Music by Daniel Pemberton; Lyric by Daniel Pemberton and Celeste Waite

“Húsavík,” (“Eurovision Song Contest”). Music and Lyric by Savan Kotecha, Fat Max Gsus and Rickard Göransson

“Io Si (Seen),” (“The Life Ahead”). Music by Diane Warren; Lyric by Diane Warren and Laura Pausini

“Speak Now,” (“One Night in Miami”). Music and Lyric by Leslie Odom, Jr. and Sam Ashworth

Om en låt från den filmen kan nomineras så kan den väl lika gärna vinna?

Best Original Score

“Da 5 Bloods,” Terence Blanchard

“Mank,” Trent Reznor, Atticus Ross

“Minari,” Emile Mosseri

“News of the World,” James Newton Howard

“Soul,” Trent Reznor, Atticus Ross, Jon Batiste

Trent Reznor och Atticus Ross är dubbelt nominerade och vinnare är förmodligen någon av dessa två filmer.  

Best Sound

“Greyhound,” Warren Shaw, Michael Minkler, Beau Borders and David Wyman

“Mank,” Ren Klyce, Jeremy Molod, David Parker, Nathan Nance and Drew Kunin

“News of the World,” Oliver Tarney, Mike Prestwood Smith, William Miller and John Pritchett

“Soul,” Ren Klyce, Coya Elliott and David Parker

“Sound of Metal,” Nicolas Becker, Jaime Baksht, Michelle Couttolenc, Carlos Cortés and Phillip Bladh

Titeln skvallrar om var krutet har lagts. Allt annat än vinst vore ett misslyckande.

Best Costume Design

“Emma,” Alexandra Byrne

“Mank,” Trish Summerville

“Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” Ann Roth

“Mulan,” Bina Daigeler

“Pinocchio,” Massimo Cantini Parrini

Best Animated Short Film

“Burrow” (Disney Plus/Pixar)

“Genius Loci” (Kazak Productions)

“If Anything Happens I Love You” (Netflix)

“Opera” (Beasts and Natives Alike)

“Yes-People” (CAOZ hf. Hólamói)

Best Live-Action Short Film

“Feeling Through”

“The Letter Room”

“The Present”

“Two Distant Strangers”

“White Eye”

Best Cinematography

“Judas and the Black Messiah,” Sean Bobbitt

“Mank,” Erik Messerschmidt

“News of the World,” Dariusz Wolski

“Nomadland,” Joshua James Richards

“The Trial of the Chicago 7,” Phedon Papamichael

Best Documentary Feature

“Collective,” Alexander Nanau and Bianca Oana

“Crip Camp,” Nicole Newnham, Jim LeBrecht and Sara Bolder

“The Mole Agent,” Maite Alberdi and Marcela Santibáñez

“My Octopus Teacher,” Pippa Ehrlich, James Reed and Craig Foster

“Time,” Garrett Bradley, Lauren Domino and Kellen Quinn

Best Documentary Short Subject

“Colette,” Anthony Giacchino and Alice Doyard

“A Concerto Is a Conversation,” Ben Proudfoot and Kris Bowers

“Do Not Split,” Anders Hammer and Charlotte Cook

“Hunger Ward,” Skye Fitzgerald and Michael Scheuerman

“A Love Song for Latasha,” Sophia Nahli Allison and Janice Duncan

Best Film Editing

“The Father,” Yorgos Lamprinos

“Nomadland,” Chloé Zhao

“Promising Young Woman,” Frédéric Thoraval

“Sound of Metal,” Mikkel E.G. Nielsen

“The Trial of the Chicago 7,” Alan Baumgarten

En stenhård duell mellan »Sound of Metal« och »The Trial of the Chicago 7«. Personligen har jag tyvärr inte hunnit se den förra än. Däremot kan jag konstatera att korsklippningen i den senare är helt central för filmens energi. Redan i filmens första minuter utnyttjas detta på ett effektivt sätt. 

Best International Feature Film

“Another Round” (Denmark)

“Better Days” (Hong Kong)

“Collective” (Romania)

“The Man Who Sold His Skin” (Tunisia)

“Quo Vadis, Aida?”(Bosnia and Herzegovina)

Best Makeup and Hairstyling

“Emma,” Marese Langan, Laura Allen, Claudia Stolze

“Hillbilly Elegy,” Eryn Krueger Mekash, Patricia Dehaney, Matthew Mungle

“Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” Sergio Lopez-Rivera, Mia Neal, Jamika Wilson

“Mank,” Kimberley Spiteri, Gigi Williams, Colleen LaBaff

“Pinocchio,” Mark Coulier, Dalia Colli, Francesco Pegoretti

Best Production Design

“The Father.” Production Design: Peter Francis; Set Decoration: Cathy Featherstone

“Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom.” Production Design: Mark Ricker; Set Decoration: Karen O’Hara and Diana Stoughton

“Mank.” Production Design: Donald Graham Burt; Set Decoration: Jan Pascale

“News of the World.” Production Design: David Crank; Set Decoration: Elizabeth Keenan

“Tenet.” Production Design: Nathan Crowley; Set Decoration: Kathy Lucas

Best Visual Effects

“Love and Monsters,” Matt Sloan, Genevieve Camilleri, Matt Everitt and Brian Cox

“The Midnight Sky,” Matthew Kasmir, Christopher Lawrence, Max Solomon and David Watkins

“Mulan,” Sean Faden, Anders Langlands, Seth Maury and Steve Ingram

“The One and Only Ivan,” Nick Davis, Greg Fisher, Ben Jones and Santiago Colomo Martinez

“Tenet,” Andrew Jackson, David Lee, Andrew Lockley and Scott Fisher

Oscarsgalan sänds på TV4 från kl. 00:20 i natt.

[jazgarewal]

South Park: Where We Go One Pt. 39

INT. TEGRIDY ESTATE - LIVING ROOM Stan, Kyle, Eric and Leo are in the living room.

Stan has the TV remote in hand.

The TV comes to life, showing grainy footage that looks awfully familiar.

ON THE TV It’s the scene from the sewer, shot at about Jimmy’s crutch-level.

The footage continues, showing them yelling at Q-Beast, and it shrinking away.

ERIC (on video): America is a corporate welfare state!

Eric glares at the screen.

ERIC: Jimmy, you motherfucker.

A jump in the video, now showing the almost dead Q-Beast as Kyle stands over it, its heart in his hand.

Q-BEAST (on video): No, please.

And Kyle squishes the heart.

Then the video cuts back to the studio, showing TUCKER CARLSON (played by Fozzie Bear from the Muppets) shaking his head.

TUCKER (to the camera): Tragic. And no one knows this more than my next guest.

It goes split screen with Tucker sharing the screen with RUDY GIULIANI (played by Maria Shriver; bald cap, glasses and a blue suit) who sits next to his client, the Q-BEAST’S BABY.

TUCKER: First, I’m sorry for your loss. I can only imagine what you felt - what you must be feeling - reliving that. And it looks like they’re going to get away with it.

Q-Beast’s Baby speaks in a squeaky voice, sounding like Jim Watkins, but with a dose of helium.

Q-BEAST’S BABY: It hurts. It really does. To see them hurl those insults at my mother like that... you know, words are like bullets and these - these monsters - just fired them with ha- (starts to choke up) With hate and - and anger and -

He starts sobbing.

Rudy shakes his head.

RUDY: Tucker, let me correct you here - you said that they’re going to get away with it. Usually, that’s what happens - the mainstream media paints Antifa as the victim. But not this time. We are going to fight and we are going to show that, you know, these “heroes” of the left - one of them is a lawyer for the ACLU, the other a weed mogul who are both probably getting their own statues in Berkley as we speak - are the real monsters. And they tried to legitimize their attack by ensnaring two of your colleagues and a cripple -

TUCKER: Also one of my colleagues.

Rudy looks a little perplexed at this, but continues.

RUDY: Whatever - they did it to legitimize this attack on a true patriot - the murder of my client’s mother!

The sound of POLICE SIRENS and roaring vehicles break the four’s attention from the TV.

EXT. TEGRIDY ESTATE - FRONT DRIVE The four come outside as police cars rush from both sides of the circle drive.

ERIC (to Stan): What’s that gate even for?

[marsupials-of-mars]

Milk and Lavender

I've never really had a "rarepair" but a long time ago I pretty much made this up and thought this ship was the cutest and insert it wherever I can. This fic was one of the ones recovered from my phone I lost a year ago and found recently, and I just finished it last night, so if you see a sudden boost in quality near the end, that's why.

Yan hummed cheerfully as she combed her hair. She’d been growing the top out, but not too much. Long hair got in the way. She winged her eyeliner and, after a moment of thought, drew whiskers on her cheeks. She giggled and rubbed them off. She jumped at a knock at the door.

"You almost ready? Mark says we’re almost late.” Yan opened the bathroom door, almost knocking King to the ground. He let out a spooked chatter.

"Yep I’m ready! Cmon, I’ve never been to their place!”

“It’s really fun!” King, although one of the babies of the family, was technically one of the oldest, and had been to the Septic’s house a few times. They usually hung out at the Iplier house because it was bigger, and although there were only seven Septics they were always cramped. Yan had met most of the Septics, though a few didn’t like to travel and never ended up coming over.

"Well I’m excited!” Yan smiled and squished King’s chubby cheeks she loved.

"Me too! Cmon!” King grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room and down the stairs. Normally Yan hated people touching or dragging her but King meant no harm and he was one of her favorites, so she always allowed it.

“Yandereplier!” Mark motioned Yan to the group. All the egos were gathered in the living room. It was cramped and Yan had to step awkwardly to avoid Goop’s slime trail. She felt a body bump against her shoulder, causing her to stumble. She whipped her head up.

“Bimothy Trimmer, I will END you!” Bim stuck his tongue out and straightened his tie. Yan growled and reached back for her katana but felt nothing but empty sheathes. “Where are Aiko and Yua?!” She heard a distorted sigh.

"All weapons are confiscated until the end of the visit. The Septics have been thoroughly warned but we’re taking all precautions necessary.” Dark gave Yan a condescending look. Yan whined.

“But Anti ALWAYS brings weapons over here!”

“Anti has no decency or respect for social principle. We’re better than that. Aren’t we Yan?” Yan groaned.

“Anti’s cool DAD you’re just lame...”

"Anti is most certainly NOT cool, he’s volatile and childish. YOU are the bigger person.”

"Ugh, let’s just go. I don’t need you lecturing me In front of everyone. And COOL dad is bringing weapons anyway...” Dark looked behind him to find Wilford loading a golden handgun that seemingly appeared from nowhere. He looked up.

"What?”

"Wil, leave it.”

"Aw Cmon...”

“No guns. We’re houseguests.”

"Ugh, fine DAD.” Wil dropped the gun in the sofa.

"I’m nobody’s dad! It’s like herding cats...” Dark mumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are we all ready to go?” A ripple of nods throughout the group. "Good.” Static built around the room and the group was transported.

"Ooo!” Yan looked up at the house. It was smaller for less egos, but it was really nice. Suffice to say it was actually a house rather than a repurposed two story office building. In any case, Brighton was much less painfully hot than California which was worth the trip on its own. Yan opened her arms toward the house and breathed in the cool air. “Finally!”

"FINALLY!” The front door burst open and a spatter of green distortion tore across the lawn. Yan was barely able to tense up before she was tackled to the ground. “Bitch!”

"Slut!” Yan giggled. “Whaddaya DOIN here?!”

"It’s my house, slice n dice!” Anti sat triumphantly on Yan's stomach. She leaned up and grabbed his shoulders, flipping him off and slamming him onto his back so they lay side by side.

“UOGH! Fuck, my ribs!” Anti gasped the wind back into him. Yan giggled.

“Its MY house.” Yan looked up to see Jack leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed. “We’ve talked about tackling guests haven’t we Anti?”

"But it’s THIS bitch! She had it comin.” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Cmon in guys. How many of you haven’t been here before?” Bing, Goop, Yan, the Jims, Eric, Derek, Randal, and Harold raised their hands. "Ooo a lot! Well we’ll make sure you have a good time. Now to my knowledge, anyone who hasn’t been here before has never met...” he thought. “Shneep or Robbie. Shneep has work and Robbie is... fragile. So say hi but try not to bother them too much okay?”

The group nodded. Yan squeaked excitedly. She looked to Anti to whisper something but noticed he was gone. She found him already glommed onto Dark to her superior’s annoyance. She didn’t call Anti a slut for her health. She sighed. It looked like she was going to have to find something else to do with herself.

She pushed her way through the door and looked around. It was a nice house, the ceilings weren’t quite as high but it was cozy, modern, and definitely had charm.

Groups were already forming. The Trick Shots (Chase, Bing, Jackie), The Better Than Everyones (Dark, Google, and a new doctor they’d found who Yan guessed was Shneep), The Innocents (King, Marvin, Eric, The Jims, Jamie), and the rest she hadn’t named to groups drifted about between. She sighed. She’d imagined something more fun. She felt like a wallflower at a high school dance.

Anti was busy hanging off Dark, sharing embarrassing stories about Shneep as the doctor tried to join the group. Everyone else sort of bored her. Sure the Innocents were adorable, and the Trick Shots we’re confident and energetic, but not really in her way. As she lay back on the couch, she thought over the introduction Jack had given. There were two egos she hadn’t met. Shneep, Who she’d now seen, and... Rolly? Robert? Remy?

She sat up. That was something to do. Meet the new one. She stood and went to find Jack. She came across him in the kitchen and pulled him away from Mark, who gave her a lecturing look, but he was lame so she didn’t care.

"Jack, you said there was someone we haven’t met? Besides Shneep?”

"Oh! Yeah, Robbie. He should be up from his nap now so you can go meet him. Though be careful, he’s, quite literally, very fragile. His room is down the hall, third to the left, take Shneep, he needs a check up anyway, and he’d feel more comfortable if someone he knew introduced you.” Yan nodded. She trotted off and pulled Shneep from his group.

"Heh?!” The doctor yanked his coat away. “What are you doing?”

"I want to meet Robbie, and Jack wanted me to bring you along cause he needs a checkup.”

Shneep checked his watch. "I guess it is about time.” He turned to Dark and Google. “I’ll be right back.” Dark nodded and Google pinged in acknowledgment. Yan dragged him off.

“Cmon! Third to the left.”

"I know where his room is, I live with him.” He pushed open the door covered with chalk stick figures and magnets. He put a palm to Yan’s chest before she could enter. "Checkup first.” Yan nodded impatiently. She slid down the doorframe and listened as Shneep entered.

"Hey, good morning my little leiche...” The doctors voice was soft and loving, a sharp contrast to how he carried himself around others. “Are you feeling good? Is anything broken?” A soft mumbling that Yan could barely hear responded.

"Good!” She could hear a smile in Shneep’s voice. “Can we feel your beats? Deep breath.” A pause. “Hmm... a little slow. Shake it out!” A rustle as Robbie shook around. “Good! One more deep breath... much better! Now, the Iplier’s are over and someone wants to meet you. Is that okay? Do you feel good and strong? Good! She’s very excited to see you.” A rustle as he got up from the bed.

"Go ahead, his vitals are good. Just be careful.” Shneep patted Yans shoulder and took her place outside the door. She peered around the door. And gasped. He was stunning.

His skin was a milky lavender, pale and delicate looking, almost translucent. His glazed eyes reminded her of full moons on a cloudy night, and the way he held himself, passively watching but showing no reaction, it conveyed just the kind of mystery she loved in a man. He looked her way, only barely, turning his head a mere 45 degrees. Her breath caught in her throat, she could barely breath, but she instantly regretted stopping. The air in the room was fragrant with the scent of death, corpse, one of her favorite natural perfumes, and she needed to breathe to experience it. She filled her lungs slowly before approaching her soulmate.

"H-hello..." She whispered, afraid to break him from what she assumed was a constant state of meditation. He must be so wise. His head turned further, finally oriented so he was fully facing her. It was difficult to tell where his eyes pointed. They were clouded over, lenses so opaque it was difficult to tell between iris and sclera, but Yan caught the movement. They rolled back slowly, locking with hers.

"Hello." His voice was soft, and he spoke deliberately, like forming the word was difficult. But Yan knew better. Yan could tell it was because he was a man of few words. He could convey what he needed without them. They got in the way of his incredible intellect.

"I was excited to meet you. This is my first time coming here, and I dont get along with many of these people..."

Robbie blinked, one eye after the other. A moment passed as he processed the sentence. "Understand that people... scary. Sometimes. Move fast, yell."

"Is that why you stay in your room?"

Robbie nodded, slowly and steadily. "Zombie is... fragile. Hen and Jack... don't want broken Robbie. Want to play... but scary. Too fast."

Yan's heart was melting more by the second.

"The world isn't fit for someone who knows better. You're a philosopher, I can tell. You like to think about big questions, you don't fit in with all the hustle and bustle of those ruffians. I could learn from you."

"Robbie... philosopher? You... want to... learn?"

Yan gasped at the offer. "Would you really teach me?"

Robbie didn't speak for a minute. Then two minutes. Yan didn't dare speak, for fear of interrupting his process. Her patience was rewarded. Her new senpai offered her the most beautiful gift she'd ever laid eyes on.

He smiled at her. The corners of his mouth gradually pulled up into a wide, bright smile. He had adorable apple cheeks that wrinkled the greyed bags of his eyes. "Yes... Robbie teach."

Yan squealed and grabbed Robbies hand between hers. She squeezed and shimmied her shoulders in excitement.

In a split second, to her horror, she heard a loud snap. It was followed by a fleshy plop as she let go.

She looked down at her hands and her breath left her. A lavender finger, wriggling, a knuckle bone protruding from the end. The movement came to a halt and the phalange lay limp. She looked up to her senpai, her face twisted with mortification and guilt.

"I'm so sorry! I got excited, I can sew, I can even embroider, I can put it back on and make it look even better than before-"

She stopped when a four-fingered hand softly brushed hers. He closed her fingers around the severed digit. She looked up.

He looked startled, but not particularly bothered.

"Do not... scream. Please. But... friend I teach. Keep. Present. Robbie present."

Yan's eyes widened in astonishment. She clutched the finger to her chest.

"You mean it?" Robie nodded. Yan looked down into her gingerly cupped hands. "Robbie present..." She breathed his words like they were sacred.

"YAN! Where are you you trainwreck? I'm bored!"

Yan looked up. Anti must have given up trying to seduce her boss. But she didn't want to leave, not when she was having such a beautiful moment.

"Go. Play." Robbie smiled. "Anti play scary. You like."

"No, I don't like to play scary, I want to stay with you and be less scary!"

"No. You play scary. Fun. You have fun. I stay, teach later. Scary not bad play."

"But I thought that was the point of teaching me, to teach me to be more calm and wise like you!"

"No. Calm, philosopher, not without play. You not fragile, zombie fragile. Go play scary."

Yan smiled. "You're so smart... I like being with you. I hope you want to see me again...?" She held her breath. She hoped it went as well as she thought it did. She had a tendency to drive love away some way or another.

"Yes, again. Go. But... name?"

"Oh, I never told you! How rude! I'm Yan."

"Yan. Nice name. Goodbye."

Yan stood, staring a moment before turning to leave. She shut the door gently behind her.

"THERE you are! C'mon, I planted some fake coke in Eric's back pocket, I want to see his reaction when he finds it!" Anti reached to grab Yans hand, but Yan jerked away. That hand held her gift. Anti squinted and looked over. "Oh fuck, is that Rob's finger?"

"It was a gift!"

Anti snorted. "You're a sick bitch, you know that?" And without another word, he dragged her out into the main area. Yan tucked the finger in her bra for safekeeping. As she watched Eric lose his shit over some cocaine, she couldn't help but hear two words repeating in her head, over and over.

"Yes, again."

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION Season 3 ♫ “Jolly Holiday, Part 1” [ 3.13 ]

CREATED BY Esther (waterstribe) & Maggie (quincywillows) || Official Page || AO3

GOD SAVE THE DREAM – The A class embarks on their senior class trip. Charlie graduates high school. The lingering wait for college admissions has some on edge, and one person receives difficult news. Lucas’s UC interview is thrown into jeopardy.

73 Minutes (36K words) || No content warnings apply.

[ ← Dylan and Asher ] [ S3 Synopsis ] [ Jolly Holiday, Part 2 → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - NIGHT

The Adams lobby is packed for a typical evening, members of the A class gathered with a decent amount of luggage. Some chat with their parents and pass off last-minute things; RANDALL ORLANDO hands DYLAN ORLANDO his passport, which he accepts with a sheepish grin while ASHER GARCIA heaves a great sigh of relief.

HARPER BURGESS weaves her way around with a checklist, greeting each student and marking them present. We continue even deeper into the school, away from the hustle and bustle…

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - NIGHT

To the comparatively quiet counselor’s office, though ERIC MATTHEWS does not seem peaceful. He’s harried as he digs through paperwork at his desk, muttering to himself and stuffing everything into a pretty dense binder labeled “SENIOR TRIP - A CLASS.”

JACK HUNTER appears in the doorway, watching for a few moments with an amused smile on his face. Then he knocks lightly on the open door, leaning in the doorframe. Eric jumps, only making Jack smile wider.

Jack: So B class left for their trip this morning, A class is gearing up now… and how are you doing? You seem good. Relaxed.

Eric: Don’t even. Don’t start with me.

Jack, innocently: [ unable to stop grinning ] What?

Eric: B class was simple. B class was easy -- they’re always easy. We let them choose where they wanted to go, and what did they pick? Disney World. Easy. Stuffed them onto a charter bus and shipped them down the coast with Norton and the chaperones this morning. Easy.

Jack: Should get some good exposure to the industry. They’re doing the backstage tour, right? I’ve heard it’s illuminating.

Eric: Then we let A class pick, and did they go simple? Did they go easy? No. Because they’re never simple. They are never easy. No, they wanted to go abroad. [ with a withering look ] This is all your fault.

Jack: [ with a scoff ] Me? Why me?

Eric: You’re the one who approved the trip! Sure, let them cross the Atlantic, you said. It’ll be fun, Eric, you said.

Jack: And I’m sure it will be.

Eric: Yes, and easy for you to say, since you’re not going. I’m the one who has to make sure none of them die, or go missing, or violate international law --

Jack laughs, sauntering further into the room and reassuring Eric that it’ll be fine. Once they get through the logistical nightmare that is travel, they’re going to have a swell time. Besides, at least he’s not doing it alone.

Jack: You’ll be fine. You’re a great leader, and the kids trust you. You won’t let one get set adrift across the pond.

Eric: We literally lost two students at prom last year.

Jack: And now one of them is your daughter. Doubt she’ll be nearly as much trouble. And you’ll have Harper with you, who you know is an excellent chaperone. I mean, count your blessings -- at least you’re not traveling with Shawn.

True, true… talk about a negligent chaperone. Eric shudders at the thought, shaking his head and finishing securing his travel binder. Jack observes him and contemplates the best way to change topics. He leans forward casually against the back of the chair opposite Eric’s desk, going for nonchalant.

Jack: Speaking of your impeccable leadership… I’ve been thinking. You should consider applying for my job.

Eric stops what he’s doing. He lifts his head, eyes wide.

Eric: What?

Jack, quickly: I just think it could be a good exercise, that’s all. Good practice.

Eric: Don’t be ridiculous. You know they’re going to hand that job back to you no contest -- no matter how hard Yancy and Jefferson campaign under the table.

Jack: Sure, sure. Absolutely. [ a beat ] But that’s all the more reason to use this opportunity. I mean, you’re an ideal candidate, given your history with the school. Evelyn likes you just as much as me --

Eric: Not true. You are by far her favorite.

Jack: And you’ve got all the credentials. I know you like being a counselor, and don’t get me wrong, you’re damn good at it. But why take all those masters courses to get the certification if you never considered using them?

Jack has a point there. Though their paths were quite different leading to where they are now, with different levels of study, Eric is technically (and definitely) qualified to apply if he wanted. As for if he wants to… Jack’s guidance certainly seems to have him thinking, if nothing else.

Jack: Anyway, it was just a suggestion. No pressure, you know. Just think about it. Filling out the application. Seeing what it’s like.

Eric: As if I don’t have enough to think about right now. How is yours going? Pretty easy to put together I’m guessing.

Ah, yes… Jack sidesteps the question, claiming he’s just putting on the finishing touches. Which he’ll have plenty of time to do while the school is quiet and the A class is out of his hair for a week. Eric says lucky him, which prompts a chuckle from both of them.

Once the laughter peters out, the moment becomes unexpectedly soft -- just shared smiles and momentary quiet. Eric clears his throat.

Eric: You’re sure you can’t come? Think now would be the time to have my authoritarian.

A little vacation abroad would sure be nice… but alas. Important business to handle here. Jack offers a bittersweet shrug, nodding to the rest of the school behind them.

Jack: Duty calls. Should enjoy it while it lasts.

While he’s still principal, may as well act like it. Eric sighs, but accepts that, hefting his colossal trip binder into his hiking backpack.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

By the steps, MAYA HART finishes repacking her suitcase, trying to get it under the acceptable weight limit. ISADORA DE LA CRUZ is doing her the favor of sitting on top of it, while FARKLE MINKUS eyes the undertaking skeptically.

Farkle: It’s a class trip, Maya. How many pairs of shoes do you need?

Maya: It’s an affront that you even have to ask that question.

Isadora: It’s an affront that this thing weighs more than me.

Farkle: Probably more than both of us combined.

Isadora: You don’t add much.

Touché! Isadora is also going through Maya’s purse, making a face when she pulls out a folded up piece of paper. Maya’s acceptance letter to NYU Tisch.

Isadora: You carry this around in your purse?

Maya: Be careful with that!

She snatches it from her, smoothing out the corners.

Maya: You’ll crumple the edges. But yes, why wouldn’t I? It’s my greatest achievement to date -- sans your mom’s coat, of course. I like to think of it like a good luck charm. My aura cleanser even did a fortune ceremony on it, so it’s legit. [ marveling at it ] Look at it. Isn’t it lovely?

She gives it a little kiss, folding it back up and putting it back in the purse on Isadora’s lap. Isadora and Farkle exchange a look.

Farkle: At this rate, getting rejected might’ve been healthier for your sanity.

Maya flips her hair over her shoulder pointedly, shrugging. Too late now!

A few paces over, RILEY MATTHEWS double checks her backpack to make sure she has all her essential belongings. It’s her first time going overseas, and she’s clearly a bit nervous. But she’s got her ways to combat it, including a well-curated list -- one that LUCAS JAMES FRIAR walks through with her as she goes. He reads down the list, she confirms she’s got it.

Lucas, notably, doesn’t have a backpack or suitcase to fuss over. That’s because he isn’t going, a fact that Riley sympathetically remarks on once they’ve concluded her checklist. She takes his hands in hers.

Riley: I wish you were coming with us. It’s not going to feel right if you’re not there.

Lucas: Actually, I think it would feel wrong if I were there. Like some kind of weird, nonsensical blip in the universe.

Riley: Oh, please…

Lucas: I’m not cultured and I don’t have any money. Traveling out of state seems pretty out of character, let alone out of the country. Think I’d get sent to the embassy as an international prisoner just for existing.

Riley nudges him pointedly, earning a smirk in response. It’s too cute not to mirror with a smile of her own, but it doesn’t quite remove the melancholy from her tone.

Riley: I just… I feel bad. You should be there, you’re class president. And you know… with everything that’s happened in the last few weeks, I don’t wanna like… just leave --

Lucas: Riley. Seriously, it’s fine. I’m fine. And spending some time on my own is not going to be the thing that kills me. That’s how I used to prefer it.

Riley: I know, I know… before Comet Riley.

Lucas: And the world has never been the same. Look, I know it’s gonna sound insane when I say this, given my track record on… well, everything, but you don’t have to worry about me.

Easier said than done… but she knows in her heart he’s right. And even if she wanted to debate it, she runs out of time, as Jack and Eric march out from the hall and start rallying the troops to head out for the airport. Big journey ahead!

Harper: All right, everybody, grab your things -- all your things, double-check and make sure, yes I’m looking at you, Orlando --

Dylan: And I don’t blame you!

Asher: I’m triple-checking.

Harper: Then let’s move on out! It’s a brief bus ride to the airport and then a long eight hours to fly. Don’t want to be late!

Riley gears up to go, Lucas grabbing her backpack off the ground and helping her sling it on her shoulders. She reminds him not to forget about the favor she asked him to do while she’s gone, which he confirms. Then she remembers something else at the last second, quickly turning to face him again.

Riley: Oh, and tell me the moment you hear anything from Davis. I know the connection is gonna be spotty because we’ll only be able to talk on wi-fi, but seriously, if you hear anything, try to reach me. They have to say something any day now.

Oh, so Lucas hasn’t told her about the acceptance letter... or the potential scholarship… he pauses when the moment arises, then nods, assuring her he’ll do just that.

Riley: I’ll try to do the same for Tisch, if I hear from them, but you know, again, spotty connections --

Harper: Let’s go, Riley! Mister Friar will still be here when you get back!

Riley blushes, starting to back up towards the others as Lucas playfully urges her to go. But then she doubles back one more time, pulling him into a kiss goodbye. The moment lingers when they pull apart, Riley gently caressing his cheeks and holding his gaze.

Riley, softly but with intent: I love you.

Just in case he needs the reminder -- to tide him over for the week. Then she’s off, throwing him one last smile over her shoulder and blowing a kiss before she jogs to catch up with the rest of the class towards the back entrance where the bus awaits.

Jack comes to stand next to Lucas, the two of them watching the others head out. Jack smiles knowingly at the exchange he just witnessed, and clears his throat presumably to comment.

Lucas: Don’t say anything.

Jack: … all right.

His tickled smirk says plenty for him anyway.

INT. JFK INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - SECURITY CHECKPOINT - NIGHT

Before the fun can begin, though, they’ve got to get there -- and that might be the most stressful part. Eric waits on the other side of security and customs, counting off each student as they successfully make it through the process. He’s splitting his focus between that and making sure the ones who have already made it through don’t rush off.

Eric: Fourteen… fifteen -- techies, I said stay put until we’re all accounted for! Asher, will you please bring Nate back into formation? Sixteen -- Maya, do not argue with the customs agent!

Maya successfully makes it through, albeit in a huff, followed by SARAH CARLSON, DARBY WINTERS, and finally Harper to close out the group. She and Eric touch base.

Harper: Full count?

Eric: Full count. Thank God.

Harper: Well, at least the hard part’s over.

Eric: Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Just wait until we have to get them back in one piece.

They’re already exhausted. This should be international levels of fun.

Cue title sequence.

INT. JFK INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - TERMINAL - NIGHT

Eric and Harper have disbanded the group to explore the terminal, gathering rations and any necessary items for the journey. The techie boys are assembled just outside the entrance of Hudson News, eyeing some of the stuff on display.

Jeff: Y’all brought outlet adapters, right? You know their voltage is different than ours.

Dave, stunned: The Brits have their own electricity?! I am never gonna survive the culture shock.

Yogi: [ re: “shock” ]��Literally.

Nate: Oh, bro, I know. And what if we don’t speak the language?

Dave: I know! I’m fucked!

NATE MARTINEZ cracks up, JEFF MONROE and NICK YOGI assuaging DAVE WILLIAMS’s concerns.

Moving past them, closer to the gate where their flight will be departing from, we shift focus to ZAY BABINEAUX. Next to him YINDRA AMINO is engaged in a seemingly riveting conversation with HALEY FISHER and CLARISSA CRUZ, but Zay isn’t paying attention. He’s zoned out, glued to his phone instead.

He’s logged into his application portal for Turner. His status still says “pending,” even weeks later when many people have already heard back. He keeps refreshing the page, willing it to change, yet of course it does not. He sighs, swiping the window up and away and landing back on the previous app he had open.

His messages app, and a specific contact at that. His text thread with Charlie, which had been steadily growing back to a healthy rapport but has essentially gone silent since his Turner audition. Since Zay kissed him, like an idiot, and then ran away like a coward.

It’s clear Zay wants that to be different. He wants there to be rapport, to break the ice he stupidly created, but he’s at a loss for how. Not to mention, he kind of figured Charlie would say something… maybe that’s stupid, given it’s Charlie, but it feels wrong to be the one to bother him when he’s the one who encroached on their lines in the sand.

Just another thing frozen in time, stuck “pending.” Zay frowns, slouching further in his seat.

Riley comes to join him with food for them to share, plopping down in the seat next to him. He quickly locks his phone, but it’s honestly not even worth the rush -- with his obsession lately, she already has her guess as to what he was looking at.

Riley: I hate to be the one to deliver this news, but you realize we’re not going to have much access to wi-fi on the trip? You’re not going to be able to check your email obsessively while we’re there. Such a tragedy... 

Zay: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Gimme my French fries.

Riley hands them over, eyeing his leg impatiently bouncing a mile a minute. She remarks he’s got plenty of energy stored up now clearly, so good thing he’s finally clear to dance again. He snorts, derisively eating a fry.

Zay: Yeah, just when I needed it -- oh, no, wait. That was weeks ago…

Riley: Still, you’re happy, aren’t you? I know I am. I can’t wait to see you dance again for real.

Zay: You’re unfailingly sweet, thanks. And yeah, of course I’m happy I got the all clear. It really just feels like… I mean, if it could’ve been a couple weeks sooner --

Riley: But there’s nothing you can do about it now. It’s done. And if it took Turner this long to contact you --

Zay: Reject me.

Riley: Then there’s nothing to say it’s going to happen any second we’re abroad on this trip. All this to say [ pretending to pull a cord from his forehead ] disconnect. I think you’ll have more fun if you do.

Zay: Maybe.

Riley: Besides, it’s not like you’re the only one who hasn’t heard back. It’s not totally out of the norm. I mean, Lucas hasn’t heard from Davis, I’m waiting on Tisch...

Yeah… interesting how Riley seems so calm and unbothered by that. Zay points out as much, that she is handling the whole uncertainty thing remarkably well. She shrugs. It’s hard to tell if she genuinely isn’t that invested, or if she’s just keeping her expectations low to avoid disappointment.

Point is, they’re about to go abroad for the first time, so they should focus on that rather than getting stuck on all the stuff here. Zay doesn’t argue with that perspective.

Zay: Believe me, I’m more than ready to get away from things in New York for a while.

Nonchalant as that statement is, Riley is smarter than that. She raises her eyebrows, immediately asking what’s going on aside from Turner that he’s trying to avoid. Zay focuses on his food instead, which only tips her off more. And she had noticed that conversation between him and Charlie seemed to have died down in the last couple weeks…

Riley: Oh my God. Did something happen? [ with dread ] You’re not fighting again, are you?

Zay: No. And we were never fighting.

Riley looks more than ready to disagree with that, but Zay cuts her off. Every time she tries to dig deeper, he dodges, nuh-uhing her until she gives up. If there is something going on, he’s clearly not going to talk about it.

And he’s not the only one. At the gate, Isadora sits on her own, headphones on as she watches something on her phone. Eric sits down next to her and greets her, but Isadora doesn’t notice. With a sigh, Eric taps Isadora on the shoulder. She jumps and looks up at Eric with wide eyes, pausing the video and moving her headphones to rest around her neck.

Eric: Enjoying yourself? [ a beat; Isadora shrugs ] How are you feeling about everything? The last time you flew or traveled a significant amount was for Valerie’s funeral. 

Isadora, dryly: I really appreciate the reminder.

When Eric doesn’t move on, but instead continues to wait for a proper response, Isadora shifts from her sarcastic defense system to allow a bit of vulnerability. 

Isadora: It’s difficult. I only used to fly between LA and New York, either because she wanted me back or had given up on me again. I feel like I did back then -- will this time work? Will I be accepted and loved? I know I’m not going to see her, but my anxiety isn’t really listening to that fact.

Eric nods in understanding and says that he expected as much. He suggests that she continue to challenge the thoughts, and keep herself distracted. 

Isadora: Kind of hard when all your friends are talking about where to go to college and your dad is asking you how you feel about your mom being dead. 

Eric: Fair enough. Should I just leave you alone, then? Or do you want to play an airport game? Guess Who, I Spy, that sort of thing.

Isadora considers this. 

Isadora: We could try to name as many of the periodic elements as we can. 

Eric: Maybe we should find Farkle for that one.

As Eric looks around, Isadora chuckles and tells him that it’s fine. She’s happy watching a documentary about whether we’re all living in a simulation or not. Seems like a great way to distract from anxiety…

Eric leaves Isadora alone, passing JADE BEAMON and NIGEL CHEY as he goes. They sit together at the gate, across from Isadora, sharing a bag of candy and excitedly discussing what they’re going to do on the trip. Nigel is particularly enthused about one location on their itinerary, his nerdom on full display.

Nigel: I mean, it’s Stratford-Upon-Avon. Birthplace of Shakespeare!

Jade, fondly: I know, I know.

Nigel: You don’t go to Shakespeare camp twelve years in a row only to not appreciate the chance to see the holy ground. It’s like… pilgrimage.

Jade: And don’t I feel blessed to witness it. Think seeing you see it is going to be more interesting than the place itself.

Nigel shrugs bashfully. Jade splits a piece of candy in two and hands half to him, which he happily accepts.

Nigel: Gotta say, yeah, it’s extra special considering I get to see such an important place with such an important person.

Jade’s turn to blush. She concurs, though, the two of them agreeing a lot of the excitement for the trip is just in that they get to be on it together. They’ve got it all planned out, how they’re going to spend as much time as possible taking in the sights together. Nothing but experiences to have, culture to absorb… just the two of them…

Well, not quite. Their quiet conversation is interrupted as the techie boys descend upon them, loudly and enthusiastically pouncing on Jade from behind as they crash into the row of seats backed against theirs. She jumps in surprise, then makes a deadpan expression as they all immediately start talking at once.

Jeff: All stocked up for the trip.

Nate: Check it, Pins N’ Needs! Got enough jelly beans in these pockets to last a lifetime, baby! And I’m packing major Double Bubble.

Dave: Jeff helped me pick out a travel adaptation --

Yogi: Aren’t your pockets going to get sticky?

Nate: You let me worry about that. You just wait ‘til I start blowing bubbs at 30,000 feet.

Dave: [ holding out the adapter to show Jade ] So I don’t get zapped by the British electricity.

Jeff: They’re going to throw you out the emergency exit.

Nate: Good thing I’ll have my Double Bubble to keep me airborne!

Jade, sharply: Boys. [ off their silence ] Don’t you remember what we talked about before we left? That little agreement we discussed about this trip?

Nate, Dave, Jeff, and Yogi exchange a look, thinking… then their glances shift to Nigel. He looks overwhelmed, not yet used to the usual techie tot rapid-fire, but he offers an awkward smile.

Ohhh, right. Jade is with Nigel. Simple agreement -- leave her alone.

Nate: Oh, riiiiight. Right, right.

Yogi: Quite right, luv.

Jeff: Don’t mind us. We’ll just be over here. Minding our own business.

Nate: Looking the other way.

Dave: Leaving you alone so you can be with your boyfriend.

Dave! Not so loud! Nate and Yogi tug Dave around so they’re facing the other direction, feigning disinterest and leaving Jade be. She releases a long breath through her nose, then offers Nigel a smile. He was saying?

Flight attendant, voiceover: Attention passengers. Flight 0103 to Heathrow begins boarding in just a few minutes…

INT. AIRPLANE - NIGHT

Passengers clog the aisles and rummage around their seats as boarding resumes, all the way towards the back of the plane where the A class basically has domain over the last few rows. Riley, Dylan, and Asher take up a row of three, avidly chatting as they buckle in. Harper is helping direct them to their proper seats, noting that they’re welcome to swap seats with each other if they wish only once they’re settled and within their share of the plane.

That’s news to Nigel -- and good news at that. He perks up from his seat in front of Yindra and Zay (paired by the window on the left side), then makes eye contact with Jade still hovering in the aisle making her way down to board. Yindra gasps.

Yindra: No way. Nigel Chey, are you ditching us?

Nigel: You’re sitting together. I’m not. I’m the third front wheel.

Zay: But you’re with us in our hearts. You’d really toss us aside so callously to sit with your girlfriend?

Nigel: You are the last person who should be making that accusation, or did you forget freshman year? [ off Yindra’s snort ] But to answer your question --

Jade catches his eye, nodding her head towards a couple of seats just two down in front of Zay and Yindra. Nigel spots an opportunity as Isadora starts to settle in, leaping for it.

Nigel: Yep. See you in London.

Zay and Yindra boo him as he jumps forward in the aisle, getting Isadora’s attention and asking if she’d be willing to swap seats. She hesitates, then sees Chai coming down the aisle behind Jade, and something compels her to agree. Nigel happily passes off his ticket and settles into her spot, waiting for Jade to make it next to him.

Only somehow there’s a mix-up, and things don’t go quite as planned. Just as Jade arrives at their row, Eric pops over. He’s surprised Nigel is seated there -- he was under the impression Isadora was supposed to be in this seat, but he digresses -- and he explains that somehow his ticket got mixed up and he’s ended up in the middle of one of the four-seat rows in the center. But he’s an older gentleman, as they know, and he isn’t sure a cramped flight sitting like that for seven hours will be very healthy… so would Jade be so kind as to be willing to swap with him so he can have the aisle?

Well... what are they gonna do, say no to their counselor? Jade sheepishly agrees, spinning to look at where Eric says is his old seat. Naturally, it’s smack in the middle of the techie boys.

Jade: You’ve got to be kidding me…

She makes her walk of shame over to them, the boys greeting her enthusiastically. Jade! Pins N’ Needles, back at it again! Eric settles down into the spot next to Nigel, giving him a friendly smile. Nigel returns it weakly, then glances over his shoulder -- Yindra and Zay are silently laughing at him, giving him cheeky middle fingers. That’s what he gets!

And, despite her quick moves, somehow Isadora has ended up with Chai as her seat partner. Chai seems enthused about it, but Isadora less so. She kind of tunes out even as Chai tries to chat with her, curling closer towards the window. Chai can obviously tell this isn’t typical girlfriend behavior, and thinks about saying something, but Isadora pulls her headphones back on.

Not much to be done about that, then. Chai tries to brush it off as nothing -- just travel nerves, maybe -- pulling out her book.

In a pair of seats to the right behind Harper, Maya and Farkle are settling in. She’s being oddly snippy with him, putting on a thin air of aloof as she questions whether he’s accepted his admission to USC yet. Ever since she found out about the business card, she’s been prodding him about it every day.

Farkle: I haven’t made any decisions yet. For the thousandth time.

Maya isn’t satisfied with that answer. She curtly says -- not for the first time -- that if she had an opportunity flying into her lap like that, she certainly wouldn’t be hesitating to take it. It’s deranged, is what it is. Self-sabotaging, perhaps. Farkle rolls his eyes at her theatrics, leaning back into his seat and knocking his head back.

Farkle: This is going to be a long flight.

Maya: Farkle, darling, you’re my best friend -- it’s going to be a long life.

You got him there, Maya! And with that, we’re ready for take off --

EXT. AIRPLANE - NIGHT

Night passes and brightens to day as the airbus makes its way over the Atlantic, making a timely and early descent into the United Kingdom. As the pilot’s voice welcomes us to London over the intercom, we get our first sprawling, establishing shots of the commonwealth.

INT. HEATHROW INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - DAY

The A class emerges through customs and gathers their things at the luggage carousel, grateful to be able to stretch their legs and move freely. Dylan does some cartwheels to loosen up -- guess the American circus really has arrived! Yindra and Zay pick on Nigel when they reunite with their bags. Did he enjoy his flight with Eric, his best friend?

Nigel: I will have both of you know that Counselor Eric is a lovely conversationalist. You can stay mad.

Oh, ho ho! Big talk! Eric passes him and thanks him for the compliment, embarrassing Nigel and causing Zay and Yindra to crack up. Then he beckons them all out towards the bus -- it’s time to kick this trip off for real!

EXT. LONDON - VARIOUS LOCATIONS - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “London Calling” as performed by The Clash || Performed by AAA Seniors

The A class file onto a double decker BUS as the guitar and drums start, a friendly if bland tour guide called SIMON greeting them once they’ve all taken seats on the open top deck. He’ll stay with them for the entire trip, but the double decker bus is only for today. 

They set off around the streets of London, the unofficial British anthem the soundtrack for our montage of them enjoying -- and exploring -- the views. They drive past the electric billboards of Piccadilly, Cleopatra’s needle, a large statue of Queen Victoria -- all the while taking pictures and listening to Simon’s narration of the city (which, perhaps thankfully, we can’t hear).

As they drive past Trafalgar Square, we cut to them exploring that same location. They’re sped up to match the tempo of the song and the chaotic nature that is tourist sightseeing tours. The techie boys sit atop the iconic lion statues while Maya, Farkle, Riley, Isadora and Zay walk in a line in unison to the beat, heads bobbing and knees bent like Madness in the One Step Beyond music video and cover art.

Back in the bus, we see that while Jade and Nigel managed to sit together this time, they’re both peacefully snoozing. Yindra laughs and takes a picture of them.

They pass the Tower of London and the Tower Bridge, then we see them arrive at the British Museum. 

Simon, flatly: I’m very excited to show you all the many things that British colonists stole from people all around the world and that we still refuse to give back to the rightful owners.

We see members of the A class posing in front of various different statues and artifacts throughout the museum -- Maya and Yindra with the Pharaohs of Egypt; Dave and Nate with the Easter Island head; Nigel and Jade with the Rosetta Stone; Farkle, Isadora, Riley, Asher and Dylan mimicking the poses of the Elgin Marbles as best they can considered each figure is missing a significant amount of limbs; Sarah, Darby and Chai in front of the painting Dancers Practising at the Barre by Edgar Degas.

We return to Trafalgar Square to see Nate being chased by two BOBBIES, one of whom is missing his hat. Nate shouts gleefully as he runs past his classmates, police hat proudly on top of his head. He provides the “ow ow ow owww!”

Eric struggles to keep up with the bobbies and pauses to catch his breath. Riley hands him her water bottle. 

The bus drives past Buckingham Palace while Maya teaches everybody how to do the royal wave. Then the Science Museum, which Simon seems more much interested in. Farkle and Isadora are hot on his heels. We see the enormous dinosaur skeletons, the great whale, the wacky mirrors that distort your image, the escalator that takes you up into the centre of a volcano.

By the time the class are climbing back onto the bus after the science museum, they’re full of energy, excitedly chatting while Harper and Eric drudge behind them. Simon, on the other hand, shows no signs of either energy or lack thereof -- or any emotions at all, really.

The class groove on top of the bus, dancing around and laughing together while Nate provides more wolf calls. They shout-sing the lyrics together, having the time of their lives. 

With the very last clash of the drums, Nate tosses the police hat back to the bobbies and sprints away with the other techie boys, cracking up. 

We’re in for one exciting trip, folks!

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Back in the states, a perfectly normal school day at Adams is progressing as usual. Only the news that Lucas shares with Jack as they sit in their usual spots across from one another is far from it -- he informs him about his tentative admission to Davis, and that he’s up for a potential scholarship (something he sorely needs). Jack is stunned, then elated, nearly getting to his feet.

Jack: Lucas, that’s fantastic! Congratulations.

Lucas: Um, yeah. Thanks. I mean, doesn’t really matter if I don’t get the money, since I still haven’t made enough on my own and it’s going to take like, everything I’ve got either way, but --

Jack: But still. This is a major accomplishment. I know how hard you worked. You should be proud of yourself.

Lucas is obviously uncomfortable with the effusive praise, as nice as it is. So he brushes it off, shifting instead to the reason why he told Jack in the first place. He was hoping that he could give him a ride to his interview. It’s a ways upstate for some reason, and he’ll never be able to borrow the family car for that long.

Jack is, of course, more than willing to do so… until Lucas mentions the date.

Jack: Tomorrow? [ reluctant ] I’m sorry, I can’t. I already have a prior engagement.

Lucas: Oh… oh.

Well, shit. That’s what you get for hiding your small victories until the last minute. Jack frowns, obviously wishing he had a different answer.

Jack: I’m sorry. If I could shift around these plans, I would, believe me. But it’s not exactly within my control.

Lucas: No, it’s um -- it was my mistake waiting so long to -- no, yeah, it’s cool. Thanks anyway.

Jack: You’ll figure out something else, I’m sure. You’re nothing if not resourceful.

Lucas: Yeah… yeah, definitely.

But Lucas doesn’t seem very convinced. Jack can tell he’s deflated, but there’s not much he can say to improve the situation. Lucas escapes before he can even try, claiming he better get back to class -- he and Shawn have lots of work to do, sitting around doing nothing as the only two left.

EXT. LONDON EYE - DAY

The A class arrive at the final destination of their city tour: the London Eye. It looms above them, slowly going round against the London skyline. It’s a magnificent thing to behold, but the techie boys seem disappointed. 

Nate: Is this it? I thought it was meant to be the best ferris wheel in the world. 

Dylan: It’s barely even moving. Is it broken? 

Dave: Where’s the other eye? Is London a cyclops?

The tour guide listens to these complaints in horror. Eric can only mutter an apology, but Simon takes it in his stride and uses the opportunity to explain the history of the London Eye. Farkle listens keenly while Nate and Dylan ask as many ridiculous questions as they can. Leaving the class in safe hands, Eric and Harper go over to the ticket stand to collect their pre-booked tickets. 

Simon: Does anybody know how many capsules there are on the Eye? 

Chai: Thirty-three, right? 

Simon: Close, but not quite.

Isadora’s hand shoots up. Simon nods at her, allowing her to answer. 

Isadora: There are thirty-two capsules. When numbering them, they skipped thirteen for good luck, so they’re numbered one to twelve, then fourteen to thirty-three. There are thirty-two boroughs in London, so each capsule represents one of them. It’s a common misconception that there are thirty-three boroughs, but the City of London isn’t actually classed as a borough.

Simon: You’re exactly right, Miss De La Cruz! But I will kindly ask you not to take over my job in future. London is a very expensive place to live and I need rent money.

Isadora blushes but has a proud smile on her face. Next to her, Chai looks a little irritated at being shown up, given that she was the London transfer for a whole year. Rather than dwell on it, she returns her attention to Simon, who goes through the thirty-two boroughs that the capsules represent.

On their way back from the ticket stand, Eric and Harper pass a man with a basket full of roses.

Rose seller: What a lovely couple! Miss, wouldn’t you like your boyfriend to get you one of my roses?

He holds out a rose, smiling innocently. Harper and Eric meet eyes and struggle not to laugh.

Harper: We’re both gay.

The man falters, realising his mistake, and steps back to allow them on their way. He spots an actual couple walking towards the queue hand in hand, so skips over towards them. A smattering of the A class watches him go, having tuned out of the history lecture.

Yindra: What a guy. Wouldn’t want to have that job.

Zay: I wouldn’t spit on it. That might be you in Los Angeles in a few months.

Yindra elbows him pointedly. Asher shakes his head, watching the rose seller try to convince another group.

Asher: Could never be me. Walking up to strangers like that is a nightmare.

Dylan: Gotta respect the hustle. I love talking to random people. [ brightly ] Maybe I should do that.

Asher: Please don’t.

Dylan: I could sell my cookies. You’d buy food from a stranger on the street, right?

Zay: That’s what the hot dog vendors in Manhattan do every day and they’re considered a staple. Follow your heart, Orlando.

Jade: I don’t know about street food, but I would totally go for one of the flowers. Those roses are beautiful, look at them.

Nigel takes note of her reaction, but the moment passes pretty quickly. When Eric and Harper rejoin the group, focus drifts back to them. Simon finishes his list of boroughs and Eric takes over, announcing that they have to split up into two groups.

Eric: There would only be enough room for four more people if we were all in a capsule together, and since we didn’t specifically book to have one to ourselves, they’ve asked if we can split up so that we don’t prevent other, smaller groups from being together. 

Maya: That can’t be right. I remember specifically requesting we had a capsule to ourselves in my proposal for the trip schedule.

Eric: If you want to fork over the extra cash, then sure thing.

Maya admits defeat. Eric announces that he’ll take ten of them, and Harper will have nine. But aside from that, they’re all mature enough to sort out the groups themselves.

That’s giving them a lot of credit. Haley and Clarissa cling onto each other for dear life as everyone begins moving around. They stand in front of Harper and stay there, determined not to get split up. Jade and Chai both have the same idea, each trying to get a hold of Nigel and Isadora, respectively. Chai successfully ends up standing in front of Eric along with Isadora, Darby and Sarah, but Jade and Nigel are less fortunate. Yindra loops her arm through Nigel’s and moves him over to Eric’s side where Zay is waiting, while Dave rests his chin on top of Jade’s head, anchoring her to her place by Harper.

Riley, Dylan and Asher are chatting merrily in Eric’s group, while Maya and Farkle are still undecided. Farkle is happy wherever, but Maya is having a hard time picking between being stuck with Dylan and Asher -- but having Isadora, Riley and the plastics -- or being with the rest of the techie boys. She decides that she can just stay on the other side of the capsule as Dasher, and walks towards Isadora and the plastics.

While Maya moves towards them, Isadora realises that she will take them up to eleven, meaning somebody will have to move. Neither Eric nor Harper have realised that Eric’s group is already full. She looks between Chai, who has her back to Isadora while she chats with Darby and Sarah, and Farkle, who frowns as he realises the same thing about the numbers.

He’s about to speak up and call Maya back over to Harper’s side, but Isadora uses the opportunity to get away from a potentially uncomfortable situation and darts over towards him. She grabs Farkle’s wrist and pulls him properly into Harper’s group before he knows what’s happening.

When Maya joins Darby and Sarah, she realises that Isadora is no longer there and turns around. Chai notices the same, both of them frowning in confusion at Isadora. She avoids eye contact with both of them, turning and letting Harper know that the groups are done. 

Harper: Oh, thank you Isadora. Eric, I think we’re ready. 

There’s no chance for anybody to voice their displeasure at the arrangement, with Eric already setting off towards the queue. Farkle looks down at Isadora, confused and a little concerned. 

Farkle: What happened?

Isadora: Hm? Oh, I... noticed that Jade was the only techie girl on this side so I wanted to join her. Maya and I must have ended up swapping somehow.

Farkle doesn’t look convinced, but Jade mumbles a thank you while watching after Nigel.

As they join the queue, Simon waves the group goodbye. Once all of their backs are turned, his customer service smile drops. 

Simon, sighing: Americans…

Americans, indeed.

EXT. LONDON EYE - QUEUE - DAY

Now split up, the A class settles into distracting themselves while waiting in line. Yindra and Riley pass the time by playing I Spy, assuming incorrectly that Zay is paying attention and playing along. But he’s not, staring into space and lost in thought as the girls survey the scenery. It’s like they’re not even in another country -- Zay could just as easily be sitting in Cory’s history class, bored out of his mind, for all the energy he’s giving right now.

Yindra is quick to call him out on it, raising an unimpressed eyebrow when her gaze settles on him during her turn.

Yindra: I spy with my little eye something short, yellow, and boring.

She snaps in front of his face, snapping him out of it. He swats her hand away, Riley laughing along as they point out he is completely on another planet.

Zay: Also, don’t insult me -- this shirt is gold, not yellow. Get it right.

Riley: I thought we agreed at the airport that we were going to live in the moment. Seize the day. Enjoy the trip and not get lost in our own heads.

Yindra: Please, don’t even bother. He’s been like this for weeks. At this point, I’m begging for Turner to get back to him so I can be put out of my misery.

Zay: Look, it’s easy for you to say, all right? You can afford to be chill about it, you don’t have a dream school.

Yindra: That’s right. You know what I’ve got? The dream. And at least in chasing that into the uncertain future, I’m not totally dialing out of right now. Like, we’re in London, Zayby. Drink some tea. Take the tube. Kiss a dude with an accent. Carpe diem.

Yeah, okay, Zay will not be doing that. And he doesn’t need the reminders or reprimands. He gets it, they’re in London, they’re in London, they’re in London… but what does locale matter, really, when your heart, mind, and soul feel thousands of miles away? Always tantalisingly out of your reach?

Suffice to say, it’s not going to be so easy to pry Zay out of his own head -- so for now, well, we’ll just have to go into it with him.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Kiss of Venus” as performed by Dominic Fike (feat. Paul McCartney) || Performed by Zay Babineaux

As the music-box-like opening twinkles in, Yindra waves Zay off and gives up on him, letting him drift back into space. And he does, directing his gaze upward towards the giant ferris wheel and the skyline of London behind it.

Yep, they sure are in the UK… as he sings the first opening lines, somewhat detached, we slowly ease in closer to his face…

EXT. LONDON EYE - MIRROR WORLD - DAY

Until we’re close enough that it’s darkness and a blur, then we’re pulling back out, still with Zay as he continues to sing -- only everything’s flipped around. We’re occupying his mindscape, free from the conventions of reality, and with a lot of new ground to discover. He starts walking backwards on the beat, his trendy kicks stomping against the pavement, quickly reminding us that he finally, blissfully has full control of his limbs again.

And with that beautiful fact being the truth, it doesn’t take long for him to break into dance. He launches into movement as he breaks into the first chorus, the scenery of London taking more vivid shape around him.

From there, the performance acts as an artistic, groovy snapshot of this new city we’re suddenly inhabiting. Zay explores iconic landmarks and imagery of London as he goes -- dancing along the edge of the fountain in Trafalgar Square; grooving unapologetically in front of the stone-faced Queen’s Guardsmen stationed in the city; riding center in a crammed tube carriage and staring dead at the camera as he sings.

About a minute in, we’re close on his face again, and he seems to be laying down facing up at us… and as we ease out, we realize he’s not just laying in any old place. He’s on the clock face of Big Ben -- yes, the Big Ben -- his limbs mocking the movement a second hand. As the bridge continues, the screen slowly starts to tilt upright, Zay adjusting with it until he’s balancing sideways on the structure.

And this launches us into the electric second half of the number, where he really leans into the energy, fantasy, and freedom of the performance. Each of his sceneries becomes a little less restrictive and more bent to his creative will -- the tube carriage is empty now, allowing him to swing on the hand rails and climb along the seats; he’s splashing and spinning in the water in the Square; he’s now dancing amidst the whole brigade of the Queen’s Guard as they run through the changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace.

In case the message wasn’t loud and clear already -- we’re in London! We get it! More importantly, it’s so good to see Zay Babineaux moving again. Even as the song peters out and we return back to mundane, rules-of-physics-following reality, there’s a lingering energy from the mere sight of seeing him dance that sprinkles a little more magic into the scenery than before.

INT. LONDON EYE - CAPSULE 1 - DAY

Farkle is getting a good look at the view of the city from so high up, Isadora coming over to join him. She asks if it looks any different from the last time he was here, and he admits he honestly can’t remember. It was a long time ago that his family visited. He asks her a question in return, wondering aloud why she isn’t on the same capsule as Chai.

Farkle: You’d think you would’ve fought a little harder to stay together. You know, given that she’s your girlfriend.

Isadora: [ with a scoff ] It’s not my fault the class got split up. What would you have me do? Bully the tour guide into letting me jump groups?

Farkle: You have bullied less deserving people for less pressing things.

Isadora: No clue what you’re talking about. I’m a fucking delight.

Farkle snorts, earning a playful sneer from her. As charming as her deadpan delivery is, Farkle isn’t completely won over by it. Because what it really signals is that she’s avoiding answering the question, which isn’t like her at all. Farkle tries to dig deeper, asking if everything is okay between her and Chai.

Isadora: Yes. Yeah. Duh. [ defensive ] Why wouldn’t it be?

Farkle: Maybe the fact that you’re standing in this carriage arguing with me rather than enjoying time with her.

Isadora: As if bickering with you isn’t the joy of my existence.

Farkle: I’m not trying to like, judge, or whatever. I’m just asking if --

Isadora: What do you want me to say, Farkle? I said it was fine. I mean, what, do you want there to be a problem? Do you want me to tell you everything’s gone weird and I don’t know how to fix it?

Dangerous questions, Isadora! Don’t ask something like that! She’s asking it in a rhetorical way, totally unaware of the fact that Farkle doesn’t know how to honestly answer that question -- to her, or for himself.

Lucky him, he’s spared from addressing it when their conversation is interrupted. An ELDERLY WOMAN -- the kind who can’t help but share their opinion in an overly friendly way -- breaks away from her ELDERLY HUSBAND to tell them their back-and-forth is really quite loud.

Farkle: Oh, sorry about that. We’ll quiet down.

Woman: Oh, no no! Don’t mind me, loves. I find it a bit amusing to be frank -- reminds me of me and my husband here. We can bicker up a storm.

Husband: [ making her point ] No we don’t.

Woman: Married fifty-seven years, if you can believe it. [ cheerfully ] You two make an adorable couple.

Um? The two of them exchange a look, Isadora bewildered and amused whereas Farkle seems slightly panicked.

Isadora: We’re not --

Farkle: It’s not like that, we’re just --

Woman: [ ignoring their protests ] Do you want a picture? The backdrop of the city really can’t be beaten from this angle. It’s so gorgeous, isn’t it?

God, old people… really can’t keep up with them. Farkle stammers, searching for a polite way to reject the well-meant but misguided offer. But Isadora surprises him even more.

Isadora: Sure.

Farkle stares at her as the woman chirps happily, needling her husband to come take the photo because he has less shaky hands. Isadora passes over her phone, only noticing Farkle’s expression when she steps closer for the photo. She shrugs.

Isadora: What? A picture’s a picture. Might as well preserve the memory, right?

Well… yes… but… hard to argue with that. Farkle relents, still a bit stiff, but he’s not going to pass up the opportunity for a keepsake when Isadora is rare to photograph as it is. He manages to pull together a smile as they huddle together and he drapes an arm around her shoulders. His gaze lingers on Isadora as she steps forward to retrieve her phone, thanking the nosy tourist.

INT. LONDON EYE - CAPSULE 2 - DAY

Speaking of nosy women, Riley is taking some photos of her own. She’s capturing as much of the view as she can in her phone, but it obviously can’t replace the real thing. She seems dissatisfied by that fact, only pulled out of scrutinizing her work when Asher stumbles over to join her. He blindly finds the rail and holds onto it for dear life, eyes screwed shut.

Riley: [ with a chuckle ] What are you doing?

Asher: I’m such an idiot. I’m an idiot, Riley -- you are Riley, right?

Riley: Yes, rest assured. I’m actually surprised you’re on this. Aren’t you scared of heights?

Asher: Yes. Yes, I am. But I thought, why not, what better a time to conquer my fears. Gonna be doing a lot of it in the next few months, might as well start now. When in London, right? Wrong. So, so wrong.

Riley aws in sympathy, patting his back and then looping her arm through his to help brace him further. She focuses on distracting him, explaining that she’s trying to take as many photos as possible to show Lucas when they get back. She knows he said he didn’t care, but…

Asher: No, no, I think that’s nice. He’ll appreciate it. You know Lucas claims he doesn’t care about everything when he actually does like seventy percent of the time.

Riley: Yeah. I mean, he honestly probably won’t care much about the London stuff.

Asher: True. He barely tolerates Manhattan.

Riley: But later in the week when we go to like, the parks and the nature reserves and stuff… you know he’d love that. He’d act like he wasn’t into it, but he so would be. So I’ll just try to bring as much back to him as I can.

Asher: For sure. He’s lucky he has you.

Maybe it’s the crippling anxiety talking and blocking his usual filter, but Asher usually isn’t one for such casually stated declarations, so Riley takes the sentiment to heart. It’s nice to hear Lucas’s best friend say something so validating. She smiles to herself.

Riley: Anyway, I’m planning to show the pictures to Charlie, too. He loves travel and history and that sort of stuff, so I’m sure he’ll want to see all of it. So either way, won’t go to waste.

Asher: Oh, yeah. Sucks that he didn’t get to come after three years of sticking out of the worst of what Adams has to offer.

Yeah… a lot of things have felt that way with Charlie this year. But he’s got plenty of his own going on this week while they’re traipsing across the pond.

As the gentle, unassuming guitar floats in…

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “New Start” as performed by Weary Friend || Performed by Charlie Gardner

CHARLIE GARDNER’s soft vocals drift in as we settle in his bedroom. A couple of boxes have cropped up in corners of the room, one of them labeled “donations.” Inside are discarded pieces of the Haverford uniform, the first willing sacrifice to the specter of college packing.

And I’m packing up and I’m moving out And I’m walking across the stage into a world that I’ve never seen

On the back of Charlie’s desk chair, a pale blue graduation gown is folded -- on the desk, his cap and high school diploma.

So it’s done. A graduation come and gone, just like that. When everyone else was halfway across the globe -- another important walk made alone.

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

On his balcony, CHARLIE GARDNER is seated with his guitar, delicately strumming through the notes. He’s dressed plainly in a tee shirt and jeans, not dressing to impress or concealed behind a uniform, and his hair has grown back out long enough that pieces of it are falling in his face as he focuses on the strings. Despite the mixed emotions of the song, he appears at ease -- honestly the most relaxed he’s looked in months. No more selling himself for applications, no more blackmailing peers.

And they ask me where I’m going And they ask me what I see ahead But if I’m being completely honest…

The threats of the past are done now. All that’s left is the daunting uncertainty of the future. Charlie pauses for a moment, taking a breath… then he exhales into the final line of the verse.

I can’t see a thing

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - FLASHBACK - DAY

As the performance continues, a flashback allows us to actually see Charlie graduate. He rises the steps to the stage and crosses with a bashful smile to accept the diploma from AARON JACKSON. In the audience, ELEANOR GARDNER watches with tears in her eyes, AMBROSE GARDNER applauding proudly next to her.

Charlie glances towards them as he begins his exit from the stage, smiling wider when he locks eyes with ROSIE GARDNER. She’s applauding too, trying to look unimpressed, but she can’t hold back her smile. AGATHA GARDNER and DAISY GARDNER are also present, cheering along.

As he disappears into the darkness of the wings --

INT. DANCE STUDIO - FLASHBACK - DAY

At about two minutes in, Charlie emerges into an empty dance studio at a local fitness center, flicking on the lights. Plain-clothed, free for the summer, left to his own devices.

No one else around to follow. No group choreography to adhere to, no brotherhood to obey, no expectations. But he wants to dance. He wants to reconnect, find that piece of his identity again.

So he does. Slowly, imperfectly, but it’s a new start. As the music swells into the orchestral middle, Charlie rediscovers dance, pursuing and practicing the art solely for himself.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

At the same time, intercut with the lyrical, improvised choreography in the studio, Charlie starts the strange process of going through his stuff in preparation for college packing that we see in progress in the present. He discards his Haverford stuff, tossing it haphazardly into the donations box.

It gets harder, though, when the decisions aren’t so surface-level. Like old photographs, books, notebooks from Adams with notes in the margins -- nervous notes to self, scribbled conversations with Clarissa and Haley, teasing doodles and messages in Zay’s chicken scratch from studying together.

It’s easy to discard the things you’re ready to let go of. The rest, not so much.

INT. DANCE STUDIO - FLASHBACK - DAY

As the orchestration winds down, Charlie finishes a fouette turn and lands without stumbling -- a promising sign if anything. He lowers himself into a sitting position, then exhales a breath and falls onto his back, laying in the center of the dance floor and staring up at the ceiling.

I used to think that when I was grown up I’d have my life figured out I’d know exactly who I was, I’d be set in my ways not needing to change

INT. OLD DANCE STUDIO - FLASHBACK - DAY

In a different studio, dated and decorated like the late 2000s, a YOUNG CHARLIE GARDNER lays at the center of the dance floor the exact same way, staring up at the ceiling. Smaller, geekier, yet doing the same cool down, centering routing. Finding solace in the quiet of the studio even so many years ago.

But now that I’m here, I feel more like a child Still learning my lessons and needing direction Still needing direction…

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

As the piece swells into the final crescendo, Charlie leans into it, emotional and vulnerable. Many pieces come together in tandem with his simple vocals on the balcony, interweaving around one another. Photographs of him as a kid on the mantle in the living room, the same ones he scrutinized at the start of Season 2 during “I Hope I Get It,” now share space with his senior portrait. He continues to dance solo in the community center studio, while his younger, less polished self does the same.

He brings it all to a close back on the balcony, letting the final chords reverberate for a moment before he releases the strings. For a moment, he stays still and enjoys the quiet, the slow bleed of the familiar soundscape of the Upper East Side returning to focus around him. The distant echo of traffic. The coo of neighborhood birds. The chatter of neighbors down the street.

His home, for at least a little while longer -- before he ends up who knows where. Then he releases a sigh, taking his guitar and stepping back inside his bedroom.

EXT. LONDON EYE - DAY

The A class recongregates on the sidewalks, Riley’s group still trickling in from being released from the wheel. While Eric and Harper avidly attempt to head count and take attendance, Maya greets Farkle as he returns. She asks what he thought about the view.

Maya: Like, it was nice and all that, but eh. I’ve seen better.

Farkle: It was cool. Someone even took a picture of me and Isadora.

Maya: Oh? Paparazzi already.

Farkle: Yeah. She said we made “a cute couple.”

Maya cracks up, shaking her head. She takes his hand, patting it with her own.

Maya: Oh, Farkle, sweetie. No one would say that to you.

Farkle holds out his free arm in indignation. Well, it happened! Still, Maya remains unconvinced -- and thoroughly tickled.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - RILEY’S ROOM - NIGHT

The rooming arrangements for the trip are… unique to say the least, considering Eric had to balance gender, sexuality, and a handful of romantic entanglements that he’s trying not to enable. That explains how Riley, Isadora, and Dylan ended up as roommates, though they seem more than content with the grouping.

Well, at first Isadora does, until her chatty roommates shift onto topics she’d rather not discuss. It starts with college, a reality she’s trying to ignore, as Riley points out this whole exercise in travel is probably good for a lot of them in preparing for whatever journeys they’ll make for the future. She also notes it’s good practice being away from Lucas with this kind of time difference -- if he goes to Davis, like she’s hoping he will, they’ll be dealing with this distance all the time.

Dylan: Totally. But you guys are going to be fine. You’ve never been like super clingy or anything. And you’re already used to him being a terrible communicator even when he’s right in front of you. Won’t have to worry that distance is causing that when you know he’s like that all the time.

Isadora: That is actually so true.

Dylan: I think the much more pressing question is how are you ever going to survive being away from me? When I’m all the way in Rochester, a whole five hours away?

Riley: I know, you’re so right… well, I guess I just have to get my fix now!

Riley surges forward and tackles Dylan with a hug, the two of them collapsing into a giggly heap on their bed. Isadora eyes them, rolling her eyes affectionately. Once they’ve rearranged themselves into some semblance of a cuddle pile, Dylan conspiratorially continues the conversation.

Dylan, jokingly: Do you think Lucas would be jealous that I’m sharing a bed with you?

Riley: Considering you’re the gayest teen in Manhattan and are happily dating his best friend? No, I think he’ll live. [ coyly ] Besides, believe it or not, Lucas and I have shared a sleeping space… more than once already.

The statement itself is factual, nothing objectionable about it, but the message is all in Riley’s mischievous delivery. They may not have had sex yet, but the extracurricular implications are clear enough even Isadora catches on. Dylan gasps in faux shock, which Riley rolls her eyes at.

Dylan: OMG… Miss Riley...

Riley: Which you already knew.

Dylan: [ another gasp, then a beam ] I did. I did already know that actually.

As cute as Dylan and Riley’s friendship is, their comfort and casual intimacy in talking about sex is pretty much the last thing Isadora wants to hear. The context of Lucas and Riley is bad enough when she has to confront it, but on top of her own recent choices, she can’t stomach it.

Isadora: Are you going to be like this all trip? If I knew I was getting Elle Woods’ sorority sisters for roommates, I would’ve asked Eric to switch my room assignment.

Yikes. Dylan and Riley quiet down immediately, exchanging an uncertain look. To engage or not to engage… just as Riley opens her mouth to ask if everything is okay, there’s a knock at their door. Dylan climbs up to get it, pulling open the door where Chai is waiting on the other side.

Perfect timing… Isadora immediately gets to her feet, Dylan offering Chai a smile before stepping back to make room. He goes and rejoins Riley on their bed as Isadora approaches the doorway, the two eyeing the couple with interest and sharing another tacit exchange.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - CORRIDOR - NIGHT

Isadora steps out into the corridor, shutting the door gently behind her. Chai gives her a smile, but it’s tight and doesn’t reach her eyes. 

Chai: Thought I’d come by and say goodnight before lights out. 

Isadora: Oh, okay. Goodnight.

Isadora begins to turn, but Chai reaches out and places a hand on her arm to stop her. Isadora flinches at the unexpected contact, pulling her arm away and rubbing the spot where Chai’s hand was.

Upset, Chai crosses her arms. She tries to start a conversation, but her heart isn’t in it, and she can tell that Isadora would rather be talking to anybody else. 

Chai: Are you okay? You haven’t been like yourself. 

Isadora: Probably just jetlag. I’m super tired. 

Chai: Yeah, maybe. [ a beat ] But you haven’t really been yourself for a while now. Are you sure --

Isadora, snapping: You haven’t really known me that long, though, have you? You’re not my therapist or Eric, so please don’t pretend like you know what’s going on with me.

Ouch. Chai is taken aback, unable to hide the hurt on her face. Isadora realises what she said and exhales, trying to take a step back from her emotions.

Chai: I wasn’t trying to --

Isadora: I know, I’m sorry. Like I said, I’m really tired. I’ll be better once I sleep.

Chai nods, unsure, but figures it’s best to just leave it. She bids Isadora a quiet goodnight and leans forward to place a gentle kiss on her cheek, but Isadora doesn’t notice this and turns to open the door. Familiar feelings of being invisible and ignored cause Chai’s eyes to gloss over as she walks away.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - NIGEL’S ROOM - NIGHT

Nigel is getting his stuff ready for tomorrow, Nate and Jeff debating something from the bathroom nook. Jeff quickly asks Nigel if he needs to use the bathroom before he takes a shower, which he claims he’s all good, and Nate declares he’s going to go adventure around the halls until the last possible minute before lights out.

Jeff: I’m sure Eric and Harper will love that.

Nate: It’s only like six in the evening in my New York brain! What do they expect me to do, go to sleep? We’ve got hours before I hit that wall.

Oh, Nate, is the jetlag gonna come for you… but no stopping him for now. Jeff ducks into the bathroom and Nate disappears into the hall, leaving Nigel alone in the room. He settles onto his bed, absorbing the uncharacteristic quiet for a moment… then he gets an idea.

He leans over and pulls the hotel phone towards him, picking up the receiver and looking for how to find the right number...

INT. LONDON HOTEL - TECHIE ROOM - NIGHT

For as much as she planned to take a break from them this trip, Jade remains stuck with a majority of techie boys as her bunkmates. Dave and Yogi have claimed one bed while she’s planning to share the other with Asher, though at the moment she’s searching for a semblance of peace and quiet by brushing her teeth in the bathroom nook.

Dave pokes his head around the doorway, quietly asking if she’s okay. Jade spits out her toothpaste then raises her eyebrows.

Jade: Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?

Dave: Well, you said you wanted to spend less time with us this trip.

Jade: I didn’t say it like that.

Dave: But here you are… stuck spending time with us. [ sincerely ] Sorry if we’re annoying you.

Jade sighs, tilting her head at him.

Jade: You could never annoy me, Dave Williams.

Dave smiles, somewhat reassured. Jade continues with a shrug, reminding him that it’s not like she hasn’t spent the last four years with ample time getting used to them. And it’s not that anything has changed about that -- she still loves them, they’re her boys, even if the ones like Nate and Dylan sometimes drive her crazy.

Jade: I just… I was hoping for something a little different this time. That’s all.

Dave clearly isn’t sure what that means, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask. The hotel phone rings, making all of them jump.

Yogi: Oh my God, those work? I thought they were just decorative.

Asher stops journaling, tentatively reaching to pick up the receiver when it’s clear no one else is going to. He says hello, listening thoughtfully, until his expression shifts to recognition. Then he cracks a small smile, glancing towards Jade hovering by the bathroom.

Asher: Yeah, sure. I’ll see if she’s available. [ holding out the receiver ] It’s for you.

Dave and Yogi exchange intrigued looks, the latter making a point of ooh-ing. Jade shoots him a look but comes to take the phone from Asher, who gives her some space and takes his journal over to the desk.

Jade, uncertainly: Hello?

INT. LONDON HOTEL - NIGEL’S ROOM - NIGHT

Nigel exhales a sigh of relief, settling back against the headboard. He returns her greeting shyly.

Nigel: I’m glad this actually worked, I wasn’t sure it would. I sort of thought these phones were mainly decorative.

The conversation cuts back and forth between the two of them, both of them speaking more softly than they probably need to under the guise of pretending they have privacy. Nigel explains he just wanted to say goodnight, which Jade smiles at. She apologizes for the fact that today didn’t really go as planned, but Nigel shrugs. Always tomorrow.

Jade: Yeah. Yeah, definitely.

Nigel: So I’ll see you tomorrow. For real this time.

Jade: [ with a laugh ] Okay. Can’t wait.

Neither of them want to say goodbye, but they must. To delay it just a minute more, though, Nigel tells Jade to make sure to check outside her door before she goes to sleep. She frowns, confused, but he refuses to elaborate. He simply insists she do her due diligence, then with one more goodnight, hangs up.

Jade gets up and heads to the door, hesitant and feeling silly… but it’s Nigel, and she trusts him. He wouldn’t tell her to do something without a good reason. Glancing over her shoulders to make sure her roommates are preoccupied, she gently pulls open the door.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - CORRIDOR - NIGHT

At first, Jade doesn’t find anything to see… until her gaze drifts downward. She lowers herself to a crouch, picking up the small gift left just outside her door.

One of the roses from the street vendor, the ones she said were beautiful, with a delicate ribbon tied around the stem. Jade laughs quietly in disbelief, then turns her focus to the small note folded underneath it with her name on it. It’s a brief message, scrawled in Nigel’s handwriting, on a piece of hotel notepad paper:

For aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth.

A Shakespeare quote. Of course. How perfectly, quintessentially Nigel -- and the perfect antidote to their befuddled plans. Jade smiles, twirling the rose in her fingers and then smelling it.

Maya, pre-lap: I mean, it’s insulting, really. The complete disregard for my plans.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - DIVA ROOM - NIGHT

Maya is in the careful process of brushing her famous golden locks before bed, pacing the hotel room as she does. She’s ranting about the situation with the London Eye, remarking that with their little split she got separated from all the cool people and had to be stuck with Chai and like half of the techie gremlins -- including Asher of all people.

Maya: I really should file a complaint -- though I don’t know if it would be more effective to report Eric, or the tour company. I was very clear in my directions.

Zay: Yeah, yeah, it’s a travesty. While you’re at it, can you Karen the hotel and get them to improve their wi-fi? This service is shit.

At least, not good enough for him to compulsively check his application portal. Maya softens a bit, confirming that he still hasn’t heard from Turner. Zay tosses his phone onto the end of the bed, claiming that at this point he’d rather get a loud rejection than continue to be in suspense.

Farkle emerges from the bathroom, walking right into a trap for Maya’s ire. She comments on Zay’s predicament by pointing out that some people have confirmed opportunities right in front of them, and yet don’t appreciate it. Farkle rolls his eyes.

Zay: What, USC? Big whoop. You know Farkle was going to get in anywhere he applied considering his dad has a wealth reputation the size of Bezos.

Farkle: Um, well, I think we could give a little credit to my grades and applications.

Zay: Eh.

But no, that’s not what Maya was talking about. She loftily mentions the existence of the business card, getting the immediate attention of both boys. Zay sits upright.

Zay: Wait, what?

Farkle: Maya!

Maya: … oh, was I not supposed to mention it? [ flatly ] Oops…

Zay eyes Farkle, expecting further information. Reluctantly, Farkle gives him the short version -- that when they were in Los Angeles, he crossed paths with a talent agent who liked what he saw. So now he’s got this business card for if he’s ever back in the area. Zay blinks, shaking his head.

Zay: I’m sorry, let me see if I got this right. When we went to Los Angeles for Valerie De La Cruz’s funeral, you somehow managed to stumble into a situation to show a talent agent what you have to offer, and they liked it? Enough to give you their card?

Farkle: It was actually an audition. They wanted me to take the part, but I wanted to come back and finish senior year, so --

Zay scoffs, even more disbelieving. Maya holds out a hand, emphasizing her unspoken point. Farkle scrambles to explain himself, to validate his reasons for putting everything on hold and still not being sure he’s going to pursue it, but after a few moments Zay waves him down. He shuts down the conversation, claiming he can’t process this information right now.

Zay: Unbelievable. I can’t with this. I’m going to bed, and I’m going to sleep off this reveal and pretend I never learned it. Goodnight.

Farkle: Zay, it’s not like --

Maya: That’s all? I need you to give him one of your tough love bitch smackdowns --

Zay: I’M GOING TO SLEEP. GOODNIGHT.

Zay hits the light switch by his bed and sends the room into half-darkness, flopping onto his side and turning away from them. Maya and Farkle eye each other, the latter scowling at her. She smiles innocently.

Farkle marches over and hits the other light switch, throwing us into darkness --

INT. COACH - MOVING - DAY

But the sunlight is bright as the A class embarks on their second day, en route to the famous Westminster Abbey. It should be an exciting prospect, and it would be -- if the A class wasn’t thoroughly jetlagged and half-asleep on the bus. Dylan is asleep, leaning against a drowsy Asher.

Simon does his best to rouse them, trying to energise the bus with some riveting Westminster trivia. But it falls flat, especially on such a dead crowd. Their bus driver for the trip, a portly and blunt woman named FREYA, tells him to give it up. They’re second-day Americans, they’re gonna be pretty useless for much of the day.

Eric offers some optimism, though, patting Simon on the shoulder and assuring him they’ll put together. They’ll perk up soon… hopefully… Dave yawns loudly, not accenting Eric’s point well.

INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - DAY

Back in Manhattan, Eleanor has plenty of energy to spare. She’s in full-on planner mode as she pieces together final details for Charlie’s graduation reception, binders and notes spread out on the kitchen table and phone cradled between her shoulder and ear as she confirms some last-minute details.

Rosie and Daisy watch from the kitchen counter, since she’s taken over the dining table, having their breakfast. It’s quite the intimidating spectacle, watching their mom helicopter parent.

Daisy: Intense. Imagine what it’ll be like if he gets married.

Rosie: Think I might drop out to avoid this -- though I doubt she’d put in this much effort for me.

Daisy: I’d do that, but unfortunately, I need secondary education to get into a good college for environmental science. So.

Well, Daisy sure dropped that life plan nonchalantly. Seems she’s got it all figured out -- if only she would share some of that with Charlie! Rosie starts to ask follow up questions, but Daisy is done eating, walking away without comment.

Eleanor glances up from her things while she’s on hold with the caterers, asking Rosie if she’s heard from Charlie at all today. She feels like she hasn’t seen him since yesterday. He’s supposed to be picking up his suit, but if he doesn’t let her know, how is she supposed to know for sure… Rosie shrugs, claiming she doesn’t know. Then she pulls out her phone, crafting a quick text.

INT. THE GAP - DAY

Charlie is picking up his suit jacket as instructed, but there’s a reason he’s not keeping Eleanor updated. He glances at the text from Rosie, warning him that Mom is running just under nuclear and wondering where he is. How much longer is he going to be out?

Before he can type a response, that reason for secrecy returns to his side -- BRIDGETTE GARDNER, running the errand with him. She hands over the suit jacket put on hold for him, complete with a tie selection and suggested slack colors to match. Charlie informs her that they need to work fast because Mom is in blitz mode. Bridgette isn’t surprised, gesturing for him to try on the jacket then.

He does, pulling his arms through the sleeves. Once he’s straightened out the sleeves and adjusted the buttons, they both get a look at him in the standing mirror. It doesn’t look bad at all -- pretty classic and inoffensive in plain navy. The tie pulled to go with it is just a shade off from black, making the whole ensemble very unremarkable.

Bridgette: Looks nice. Just exactly like Mommy laid it out for you the night before.

She playfully pats his cheek, earning a scowl from him. She comments that she’s surprised Eleanor hasn’t made him cut his hair for the occasion, as it’s getting pretty long again.

Charlie: … she might have suggested it once or twice. I changed the subject.

Bridgette scoffs. Of course. But at least Charlie is resisting her influence. Bridgette thinks he could afford to do it more, given that this ensemble for the reception is so insanely boring he might as well be going to a funeral.

Bridgette: Hear me out. What about… glitter? Just a little on the lapels. Oh, or maybe like some leather -- walk into church in some actually well-fitting pants and I promise you about half the congregation will drop dead.

Charlie: Gee, thanks, but I’m not trying to commit mass murder. You may as well have me wear a bedazzled rainbow suit and tattoo a pride flag on my face.

Bridgette: Would be an improvement from what you’ve got now.

Be that as it may, Charlie just wants this reception to go smoothly. If that means wearing what mom thinks looks best, then whatever. Not like it matters.

Bridgette: See, I used to think like that, and then I discovered lace bralette tops. Never going back. [ a beat ] I’m just saying, it’s your party. I think you should be able to express a little bit of yourself while you’re there. At least consider a different tie?

Charlie: … fine. You get three chances to change my mind.

Bridgette accepts the challenge, settling into digging through the displays of neckties to find the strongest contenders. Charlie changes the subject, reflecting on the fact that Bridgette doesn’t even get to be at the reception to see him wear it if he does decide to shake it up. She states that the knowledge of her assistance will be enough, but he doesn’t agree.

Charlie: It’s not fair. I mean, you didn’t get to go to the ceremony, you don’t get to come to this…

Bridgette: Yes, such are the trials and tribulations of being the exile. Missing out on all the thrilling social engagements of blessed high society.

Charlie: I’m serious. Don’t you want to be there?

Bridgette pauses, taking in his sincere indignation. While confronting their mom isn’t exactly high on her agenda, it’s clear from the expression on his face that he wants her there. She shrugs, focusing on the ties.

Bridgette: I already accepted the fact that I was gonna miss out on this stuff. You know? I got over that when I got over everything else. You have to -- if you get stuck on shit like that, it just… makes it harder. And at that point, you can’t handle harder.

Bottom line, he shouldn’t get all worked up on her behalf. He can have his perfect, polished graduation reception without her, and then they’ll do something to celebrate on their own. She finishes pulling a third selection and double checks that she’s satisfied with her picks, then hands them to Charlie and swaps for his boring Eleanor-approved tie.

Bridgette: I’m taking this back to the personal shopper. He can put it back on the rack -- that or burn it, which will be my humble suggestion. You’re wearing one of those.

Charlie: Oh, so it’s bad when mom tells me what to wear, but when you do it, it’s fine.

Bridgette: Yes. Obviously. Just think of it as representation on my behalf, as the poor little exile.

The comment is said in jest, but it’s clear Charlie genuinely isn’t satisfied with how she’s being left out from all his celebrations. She may have made peace with it, but he’s struggling to do the same. He glances down at the neckties, sifting through the colorful and patterned selections.

EXT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - CLOISTERS - DAY

With its high ceilings, ancient decor and dark lighting, Westminster Abbey very much gives Hogwarts vibes. Simon is in the midst of leading a walking tour around it, holding up a small but bright yellow flag to ensure the group doesn’t get lost. The class is still a little groggy, since Simon’s monotone voice doesn’t inspire much excitement. 

Simon: One of the many monarchs buried here at Westminster is the queen known as “Bloody Mary,” also known as Mary Tudor. She was the last Catholic monarch --

Dave: I wonder if Charlie knows her. 

Simon: And was responsible for 280 people being burned at the stake due to their protestantism. The myth of Bloody Mary is often combined with that of Mary, Queen of Scots, who’s also buried here. She was Queen of Scotland, and claimed that the English throne belonged to her, not her cousin Elizabeth I. Because of this, Elizabeth had her cousin beheaded. 

Nate: Sick. 

Simon: Rumour has it Bloody Mary haunts various sites across the UK, and that if you say her name three times in a row, she’ll make an appearance.

The techie boys all share excited looks while Darby and Haley both look outright disturbed. Simon continues on, unaware of the reactions behind him.

Eric steps through the crowd with his phone to his ear, nodding, then lowers it against his chest as he approaches Riley. He pulls her aside from where she’s listening with Dylan and Asher, speaking to her quietly so as to not interrupt. As the one with the unlimited international plan for this trip, he’s the point person for any important communication.

Eric: Hey, your dad’s on the phone.

Riley: What? Is everything okay?

Eric: Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. He just… your Tisch letter came in the mail. He wants to know if he should open it or not.

Oh. Riley processes that, glancing towards Dylan and Asher. They nod her along, and she nods to Eric, taking the phone from him and stepping a bit away to talk to Cory. She gives him permission to open the letter, waiting on the other end of the line impatiently. She twists a thread on the end of her lavender silk blouse, the seconds ticking by impossibly slow…

Then the results are in. Riley absorbs what her dad tells her, blinking.

Riley: Waitlisted. [ a long beat ] Um, are you sure? What does it --

She’s cut off as Cory presumably reads from the letter, confirming the intel. She’s been waitlisted for Tisch.

For as unbothered as she acted about the whole thing, the news is still a bit overwhelming. She clears her throat, assuring Cory that she’s fine and really needs to catch up with the group. Once they say goodbye, she makes her way back over to Dylan and Asher, managing a smile. But they can tell she’s not herself, cautiously asking what the verdict is.

Riley: Um, waitlisted.

Dylan: No way.

Asher: Oh, well… look, that’s not bad. It could still turn around.

Riley: Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.

Asher: It’s not so much a rejection as it is, like… you know, just waiting to see if --

Riley: The better people say yes first.

Well, when you put it like that… Asher bites his tongue, deciding not to add anything since he’s clearly not helping. Dylan asks if she wants to take a minute, or if she wants them to wait with her, but she waves them off. She’ll be fine.

Riley: Think I just want to be alone for a second. If that’s okay.

Dylan and Asher nod, offering condolences one more time but also assuring her that Tisch doesn’t know what they’re holding out on. It’s their loss. She smiles, appreciative, but it’s faint.

Then she’s alone, left to absorb these new developments. She could hold out on the unlikely, pretending like she’s on the same level as Maya, Nigel, or any other of her incredibly talented friends… or she can let it go, start thinking more practically, and be able to start planning her future.

There’s just that lingering worry, the one creating the lump in her throat, that if she makes the wrong choice, she’s going to regret it forever.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Chasing Pavements” as performed by Adele || Performed by Riley Matthews

Rather than focusing on unrequited romance, Riley’s soulful rendition of the early Adele hit is concerned around her future. For as composed as she’s been able to appear about the whole thing while her friends spiral, the pressure of such major decisions has been weighing on her too -- and with a result like “waitlist,” she’s simultaneously let down yet still trapped in uncertainty. She was hoping for this admission decision to make the tough choices for her, to show her how she feels and what she wants from her future.

Does she want to risk it all and pursue a lofty goal like performing when it’s never been her core motivation, when it’s not her whole entire world like her friends -- but she might be just good enough to make something out of it? Is it worth chasing that elusive maybe, when that maybe might never materialize, waitlisting her forever… and when she could conceivably imagine herself doing something else, even if she doesn’t know what that something else is yet?

And maybe it hurts so much because it speaks to an even greater problem, which is that Riley herself feels stuck on an eternal waitlist. The blow just reiterates what she’s always known: that she’s second best, second choice, the belle of the ball only when all the other debutantes have passed. Maybe a single college acceptance shouldn’t feel that way, but it does, and the ache of it is loud and clear as Riley meanders her way through the corridors of Westminster Abbey and belts it out. It’s a rather poignantly beautiful performance with the historic, grand abbey as her stage.

As the song comes to an end, Riley slips down and settles onto one of the stone benches, tilting her head back against the glass window behind her. The empty feeling expands as we ease away, her solitude emphasized by how vast the corridors seem around her.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Riley isn’t the only one feeling stranded in regards to their dreams. Lucas is in a low mood, spending his time moping behind the counter at Chubbies when he should be on his way to Albany for his interview. It would be easier to be angry, but the only person he can get mad at is himself, so muted frustration and disappointment will do.

He lifts his gaze from the register when Charlie walks through the door, one of the only customers who’s trailed in so far that morning. He makes a point of noting the emptiness himself as he approaches the counter.

Charlie: Quiet in here, huh? Guess when Adams heads out there’s really no one left to patronize this place.

Lucas: Would you judge me if I said I liked it?

Charlie laughs. He claims he wouldn’t judge, given that he’s out also looking for a little quiet and change of pace. He mentions his family and all of the hubbub around his reception, which it’s clearly nice to step away from for a bit.

Lucas: Oh, right. You graduated this week, right?

Charlie: Yeah. Basically the same day everybody else left.

Lucas: Great timing. But uh, congratulations, or whatever.

Not the most eloquent good tidings, but Charlie will take it. The conversation drifts to more general post-graduate discussion, ultimately prompting Lucas to admit when asked about his college prospects that he was accepted into UC Davis. In fact, he was even offered a potential scholarship. Charlie brightens, knowing from Riley how big a deal it is.

Charlie: Seriously? That’s amazing! Congratulations. You must be excited.

Lucas: You’d think I would be. Only it’s not happening. I can’t get the scholarship, so I can’t go.

Charlie: What? Why not?

Lucas isn’t one to just dump his personal baggage out for anyone to see, but there’s something so inexplicably disarming about Charlie that he finds himself saying it anyway. That, and all that frustration he’s been stifling all morning is desperate to slip out.

Lucas: Because for whatever reason the stupid thing is upstate in Albany, rather than like, a centralized logical location like downtown.

Charlie: They probably had more than one session for out-of-state applicants. At least it’s in New York.

Lucas: I guess. It’s my fault, anyway, because I could’ve planned accordingly, but I’m a fucking idiot who waited until the last second to ask for a ride, and my only resource can’t help. And I tried looking up ride shares but it’ll take like a million dollars to get there and back, which defeats the purpose anyway since I’m going to this interview to lick some boots for a scholarship because I don’t have any money.

Lucas concludes his mini-rant by pointedly shutting the cash register drawer, which dings in protest. Charlie processes his complaints, trying to keep up.

Charlie: Where’d you say it was again?

Lucas: Albany. [ irritably ] It’s only like a couple hours away, which honestly makes it worse, because it’s that damningly close and yet I still can’t get to it --

Charlie: Dude, I can drive you.

Oh. Wasn’t expecting that. Lucas pauses his irritable fidgeting, staring at him for a long moment before realizing he’s genuinely offering.

Lucas: … are you serious?

Charlie: Yeah! Like you said, Albany’s not even that far. I like a drive, and I don’t think you should have to miss out on the chance to see this through just because you don’t have the means to get there. Besides, I owe you one for helping me with Brandon.

Lucas: No, no. No, we’re already even. I evened it. Because that was for you doing the transfer thing --

Charlie: [ with humor ] Look, we could do this all day. Or, we can get going so you can make it to your interview on time -- though you’ll probably want to change first.

Perhaps. Lucas glances down at his Chubbies uniform.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - MORRIS’S OFFICE - DAY

Meanwhile, Jack is at his prior engagement, sitting down for coffee with GEORGE MORRIS (60s). He’s a member of the old guard for sure, conventional and establishment, but unlike Jefferson and Yancy he tends to formulate his opinions on each issue independently and votes accordingly. He’s not easily influenced... which makes his impending retirement of particular interest. Whoever rises to occupy his vacant spot may just tip the scales of the school board towards a progressive or conservative lean.

It’s a fact that is clearly on Jack’s mind as they chat, starting on the subject of Jack’s forced probation and reapplication for the leadership role at Adams. Morris voted during the Bradford debacle for Lucas to be able to stay at Adams -- he found the whole situation quite ridiculous and time-wasting, to be frank, more spectacle than anything worthwhile -- but he admits that he also voted for Jack to be put up for reapplication.

Morris: My thinking was that if you were still best suited for the position, then your reapplication should be swift and effortless. You have a strong track record despite Yancy’s observations, which are biased, and it wouldn’t take much to win the job back. Sure, it’s another symbolic, time-wasting gesture, but it would settle the matter.

That being said, he did note that Jack has yet to actually submit said reapplication… which provides a perfect segue into why he knows Jack is really here.

Morris: You don’t have to beat around the bush, Jackson. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors that I’ll be taking my leave at the end of this contract year.

Jack: That might be true, yes.

Morris: Evelyn mentioned you very well may eye my spot. In fact, she seemed to suspect such a thing before you even caught wind of the possibility. She’s keen, Evelyn, insightful. Knows her colleagues much better than most, sees potential that others don’t. That’s why she makes an excellent board member.

Jack admits it’s not out of the realm of possibility in his mind… in the time that he’s been an administrator, he’s learned a lot, but one thing that always frustrates him is when he loses the ability to tackle bigger issues once they elevate beyond his pay grade. There are bigger, more systemic issues affecting the students of Manhattan that he wishes would get more attention, that he could dedicate more concerted effort towards without sacrificing his attention to Adams or risking overstepping his bounds. And certainly becoming a school board member wouldn’t magically fix any of those problems, but it’s a new angle on it. A new starting point, a place where he can create initiatives and try to organize funding towards the things he believes matter above all else.

That’s true, and Morris commends his passion. The board can be a painfully bureaucratic institution, and it could benefit from some fresh spirit. But he has to advise him to seriously consider the process it would entail as well. The school board is an elected position. Jack would have to campaign, build a following, and garner enough support to win the spot. And like most elected positions, he wouldn’t be able to hold onto his current position in the meantime -- if Jack decides to throw his hat in the ring and run for the board, he will have to forfeit his role at Adams to do it. And if he doesn’t make the cut, he’ll be starting over.

Still, that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t consider it. It’s just important to examine all the angles before he makes a move as big as this -- and it’s evident that Jack seriously is.

INT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - HENRY VII CHAPEL - DAY

At the same time, the A class has begun their free roam at the abbey, allowing them to break off into smaller groups. There’s a lot to explore, so they’ve got a decent chunk of time to do so.

Jade and Nigel have wandered off on their own and arrived at the chapel, Clarissa and Haley the only other two A class folks in the same chamber. Jade approaches the steps in awe, complimenting the architecture and talking about how she remembers watching Kate and William get married live on TV.

Jade: Wasn’t my idea though, for the record. My brother was weirdly obsessed with the royals for a time -- he’s one of those Americans that had a union jack hanging up in his room in middle school.

Nigel: Sure.

Jade: I was much more interested in the fashion. I remember being so amazed by Kate’s dress… I mean, the attention to detail on the lace sleeves, and the train…

Nigel’s turn to be fond of Jade nerding out. The two of them settle at the base of the altar, basically mirroring where the royals stood at said wedding with the beauty of the church towering behind them. He claims she’s already designed and created pieces equally as stunning, if not more impressive. Who knows? Maybe she’ll be designing for the royals one day.

Jade: Wouldn’t my brother love that... but I don’t know. To get that kind of gig I would have to actually have credentials first, which is not going to happen if I don’t get a really good apprenticeship.

Nigel: Still nothing from any of them?

Jade: No. And it’s not like that’s a bad thing, yet, most of them don’t start reaching out until like… mid-summer. But with everyone else figuring stuff out and starting to nail down all their plans, kind of just makes me feel… adrift.

There are certainly others who relate at the moment. Nigel steps closer and takes her hands, waiting for her to look at him.

Nigel: It’s all gonna shape out. Even if you don’t take the traditional path, I really don’t see how you couldn’t find your footing in the industry when your portfolio is literally spectacular. And if worse comes to worse, you’ll make your own way. You can like market your designs on social media and stuff -- Yindra’s good at the branding thing, she could probably help. Dylan, too, though I’m not exactly sure he has a method to his madness.

Jade: Well, he’s doing something right, with what, sixty-thousand followers and counting? Still can’t believe it.

Nigel: My point is, you’ll get there one way or another. And I’ll help, even if I have to go door-to-door at NYU singing your praises. I’m well-versed in the art of the monologue, you’d be impressed how much information I can eloquently cram into thirty seconds of time before they inevitably slam the door in my face.

Jade laughs, thanking him for his unabashed support -- and risking social pariah syndrome to do it. He nods, proud, and the moment grows soft between them. Nothing but fond smiles and the gentle beauty of the cathedral around them… they drift closer together, to share a regally romantic kiss of their own…

Only they’re startled out of the moment by Nate, who marches into the room and loudly comments on how great the acoustics are. The rest of the techie boys follow, officially disrupting the peaceful nature from moments earlier.

Nate: I swear, it’s like an amplifier in here. Echo game for days. [ quietly ] Nate’s the best. [ louder, playing with the echoes ] NATE’S THE BEST!

Yogi and Jeff shush him, but it’s not very effective when they’re laughing. Jade groans under her breath, lightly crossing her eyes in irritation before descending down from the altar. Nigel hesitates, then goes after her, the laughter of their peers echoing around the stone architecture.

EXT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - DAY

Zay is fielding some annoyance of his own, meandering along with Farkle along the exterior grounds of the abbey. They’re near the perimeter of the burial grounds, Farkle rattling off an insane amount of trivia to fill the silence as Zay does his best to ignore him. How he got stuck with him, he doesn’t know, but Farkle seems more than content to trail behind him and bother him with facts he didn’t need to know.

Farkle: Did you know there are over three-thousand people buried at the abbey?

Zay: Why the hell would I know that?

Farkle: Well, I do.

As if that’s the marker for common knowledge. Zay shakes his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets, but Farkle isn’t thrown by his silence. He continues on unperturbed.

Farkle: That statistic includes many royals and all the Tudors -- save for Henry the VIII, that is, who opted to be buried with his favorite wife, Jane Seymour. Though there’s debate about that, too, considering many Tudor enthusiasts actually believe his true love was Catherine of Aragon, but Jane was the one who gave him a male heir. Which she then died for -- childbirth complications -- so guess maybe he felt a little sorry for her.

Zay: [ under his breath ] Think if he had a favorite wife it would be his only wife…

Farkle: Well, sure, maybe by our present-day standards. But monogamy and marriage for love rather than strategy and lineage is really much more modern a practice than most people realize. Anyway, definitely wouldn’t have been Henry the VIII’s game, since he literally created a new branch of Christianity so he could divorce his wife, which wasn’t allowed under Roman Catholicism. So he’s always been a bit of a I’m-Not-Like-Other-Monarchs guy.

They’re going to have to bury Zay at the abbey if Farkle keeps this up and bores him to death.

Farkle: But you think he’d be buried here, considering he’s the reason the church exists as an Anglican denomination like it does now. It used to be a monastery before he had England separate from the Catholic church. Charlie and I got into an argument about this once, actually, in Cory’s class -- well, I don’t know if I can say argument, since Charlie is really only capable of slightly lukewarm debate -- because he thought the date was before --

The relentless trivia is one thing, but a Charlie name-drop is just too much. Zay is trying to avoid thinking about all of the above. He stops walking, Farkle accidentally ramming into him.

Zay: No offense, Farkle, but I quite literally could not give less of a shit. I’m trying to enjoy the scenery, but I can’t even hear myself be unimpressed over your lecture.

Farkle: Some people find fun facts charming.

Zay: Well, you should go find those weirdos and flock with them then. Seriously, acres of ancient architecture for you to roam and somehow, you end up with me. Wouldn’t you rather be competing with Isadora for knowing how many stones make up the cathedral or some shit?

Farkle: Sorry! Maybe I would be, if things were normal. But at this point anything is better than having to trail around behind her and play third wheel with…

Oh, yeah. Right. Zay forgot about the little detail of Chai. He can empathise with that, wanting to avoid unpleasant circumstances that you have no power to change… he sighs.

Zay: Whatever. It’s fine. You can stay, but we’re going to walk quietly. Enjoy the posh, pretentious ambience. Quietly. Got it?

Farkle: Sure. Totally. I can do that.

Zay nods, beginning to saunter along again. Farkle does his best to follow the rule, biting his tongue as he dawdles behind him… but it doesn’t last long. It’s just not in his nature. It’s sweet of Zay to pretend it could be, but they both know that’s not reality.

Farkle: Bet you can’t guess what famous scientist is buried here.

Zay: Jesus Christ…

No, Zay, he wasn’t a scientist. Good try, though!

Charlie, pre-lap: And what unique eccentricities do you bring to the table that you think would make a meaningful addition to the UC community?

INT. CHARLIE’S CAR - DAY

Charlie and Lucas have made it to the interview venue with a few minutes to spare, so they’re maximizing their time. Charlie has his phone open to a list of typical scholarship interview questions and they’re essentially doing a mock interview. Lucas is now dressed in the nice button-down he wore to Topanga’s, looking much more put together than he did in his uniform.

And though they’re doing their usual thing of not making eye contact as they converse, it’s obvious that the practice is valuable to Lucas. He’s able to stumble through his thoughts, pausing and rethinking and starting over in the middle of a sentence, when he won’t be allowed such a luxury once he gets in there. Charlie listens attentively, tossing glances at him and nodding in approval if he says something particularly effective or well-spoken.

Once they’ve made it through the last question, Charlie compliments his efforts. It’s clear he has a lot to say once he finds the right words, and he can spin it all pretty well.

Charlie: These sort of things are more a formality anyway, honestly. They usually have their mind made up about who they want to give the scholarships to -- this is more about confirming that you’re not like, secretly deranged or a total recluse.

Lucas: Oh, really? Then I should skip it. Would hate to confirm their worst fears.

Charlie side-eyes him, smirking as he shakes his head.

Charlie: You’ll be fine. Deliver even a fraction of the confidence you usually have and you’ll win them over.

Lucas: [ with a snort ] Yeah, right. Sure.

That response surprises Charlie. He looks at him.

Charlie: I mean it.

Lucas: I don’t know what Kool-aid they had you drink at Haverford, but I think it fucked with your head. No one would call me the epitome of confidence.

Charlie: Oh, come on. That’s so not true. You’re like, one of the most unflappable people at Adams. Everyone thinks so.

Lucas: Did we go to the same school?

Charlie: I didn’t say it meant they liked you, but I bet if you asked anyone from our class they’d say you’ve got confidence. Maybe not the same brand as Maya, or Isadora, but you know who you are. You’re unapologetic about it. And you do your own thing, you’re not scared of anything. That gives you like… a quiet power. People notice that, it’s admirable. I wish I could be like that. I’m sure the interview panel will see it, too.

Charlie’s talent for saying the exact right thing in earnest strikes again, and at just the right moment. Lucas absorbs the sentiment. He’s so used to the narratives that are unflattering, all the ways he’s been villainized, it’s weird that in the midst of all that turbulence he may have had silent admirers for every disdainful naysayer.

Lucas quickly changes the subject, pointing out that Charlie was helpful at coaching him. He asks if he had to do a lot of interviews for his schools, which Charlie denies. He wasn’t up for scholarship in most cases considering his family is well-off, and he’s pretty sure his grades and community service did most of the selling for him. It’s all about the surface-level achievement anyway. No one is especially interested in getting to know him beyond the shiny stats, and he can’t blame them.

Lucas: Well, why do you want to go there?

Charlie: What?

Lucas: To Yale or whatever. I just mean like… you know, I’m only doing all this shit for Davis because it has something I really want. A way to get to something I think I want to do. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be worth the stress, and it definitely wouldn’t be worth the money. Why do you want to go there, beyond the… shiny stats?

Good question, Lucas. Very, very good question. One that Charlie can’t answer, even as he opens his mouth to do so. He feels invisible to their institutions, but maybe that’s equally as much about him as it is about them.

He’s spared for now. Lucas’s phone buzzes, warning him that he has ten minutes until his interview slot, so he better get going. Charlie wishes him luck as he climbs out of the car. Then it’s just him, stuck sitting with the huge hole in his future plans Lucas incidentally broke open.

INT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - NAVE - DAY

Various students wander around the nave of the church -- the main area with pews, memorials and icons hung on columns. Amidst the students are Isadora and Chai, who walk in silence, awkward tension surrounding them following their not-so-pleasant goodnight the day before.

While Isadora focuses on the intricately decorated screen that leads to the quire, Chai takes a selfie with Isaac Newton. Well, his statue, anyway. Chai asks Isadora to be in a picture with her, so Isadora lightly smiles and poses. Chai snaps the pic, then puts away her phone. Things seem to be a little more comfortable between them, so Chai broaches the topic of last night.

Chai: Listen, about what happened yesterday --

From this side of the nave, Isadora has a better view of the pews and finds whatever it was she was searching for. Unaware of the fact that Chai is mid-sentence, Isadora rushes towards a particular row of pews. Chai takes a moment to swallow down her annoyance, then follows.

Isadora slowly makes her way down the pew, analysing the space and holding out her hands as a way to measure how much room would be needed for each person to sit. Curious, Chai watches as Isadora settles on one spot. Tension lifts from Isadora’s face and she lets out a breath of relief before turning and sitting down. Chai shuffles in to sit next to her and looks in the same direction, wondering if this particular spot allows for a better view, but doesn’t notice anything. 

Chai: Why are we sitting here? 

Isadora: This is where my mom sat at Will and Kate’s wedding.

Chai is surprised, and allows herself to take in the fact that she’s sitting next to where Valerie De La Cruz once sat. It’s impressive, honestly, that Isadora remembers exactly where Val sat a whole decade after. Despite how much Isadora once claimed she didn’t care about her mother, this goes to show that she always cared -- a lot. 

Chai: Wow. Were you her plus one or something?

Isadora: [ with a shake of her head ] I watched it on TV with my foster family. Her plus one was some race car driver.

Unsure what to say next, Chai lets quiet settle between them. The opportunity to discuss the night before is gone, but Chai reassures herself that things are better today, like Isadora said. Maybe it was just jetlag…

She tentatively slides her hand towards Isadora’s and brushes it with her fingers, but Isadora once again flinches at the contact and pulls her hand away. She slides down the pew a little to create distance between her and Chai, which only rubs salt into the wound.

Knowing where she isn’t wanted, Chai wordlessly gets up and leaves. Her absence doesn’t even register with Isadora, who continues to sit in silence.

A different collection of Adams students also wander around the nave, Yindra leading the charge. She’s on a mission, approaching the front pews and claiming she wants to get the chance to pray while they’re there. Maya raises her eyebrows, amused.

Maya: Really? I didn’t take you for that kind of religious zealot.

Yindra: Your dismissive attitude notwithstanding, I see it as less zealous and more seizing an opportunity. I’m not going to pass up the chance to send out a prayer for my future in one of the most famous places of Christian worship there is. I’ll take any moment to put good energy into the universe and give a little thanks to God for what I’ve already got -- especially given the odyssey I’m about to embark on.

Well said, Yindra. Touché… Maya takes this challenge, pointedly sauntering off to a kneeler of her own. She settles down with uncertainty, clearly unfamiliar with how any of this religious stuff works. She’s a bit subconscious about it, glancing around her to make sure no one can see her being so visibly out of her element.

Maya: Where’s Charlie Gardner when you need him…

But Charlie isn’t there, the one time Maya has probably ever thought he would be useful to have around, so she’s on her own. She takes a deep breath, blowing air out through her lips almost as if she’s doing vocal warm ups.

Maya: Dear God -- oh, no, wait --

She clasps her hands together, mimicking prayer as she’s seen in the movies. There, better. She nods, satisfied, then tries again.

Maya: So, like… hey there. God. Or, whoever you are. If you’re there. Look, I don’t really do this thing, but Amino made her point, and I can’t let her one-up me. She’s already my strongest competition in the world of up and coming female superstars. No special advantages for her. [ pausing ] Anyway, I know I don’t have the wherewithal to be asking you for anything, since I’m not exactly a “worshipper.” And I wouldn’t expect it anyway -- I’ll be making my own way, cosmic interference or not, so it’s no biggie.

If God is up there listening, he has to be laughing. No one can say Maya Hart isn’t one of his most entertaining creatures… then she grows more serious, clearing her throat.

Maya: I actually thought, if it’s like, allowed, that I’d put in a request for someone else. And don’t worry, he’s one of your precious children who actually practices religion and all that, so you’ll be more willing to help him I’m sure. But um… you should send some guidance to my friend, Farkle. If you do that sort of thing. He’s got… an amazing opportunity in front of him, and all of the talent in the world to see it through -- in a surprisingly frail package. And I know he wants to follow it, that in his heart he wants to break away and see where this takes him, but… something’s holding him back. I don’t know why. I guess he’s scared, maybe. But I think this hesitation is going to keep him stuck, and he’s going to regret it.

Maya pauses, glancing up at the elegant opulence of the church in front of her. Though she’s not a believer and probably never will be, she can appreciate why someone would be. There’s something to it, the feeling of kneeling there in humility and sensing just how small you are. Small, and yet, still worth listening to in even the quietest prayers. She has to love the drama of it, in any case.

Maya: He needs to take the leap and see how far he can go. He can’t pass this up. Please don’t let him pass this up. [ a beat ] Oh, and like, amen. Thanks.

Maya bounces back to her feet, stepping away from the kneeler. As we hang on the stained glass windows shimmering with sunlight…

Interviewer, pre-lap: And why, in your opinion, should we take a chance on you? All things considered.

INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY

Lucas is seated opposite three representatives from UC Davis admissions, who we can only see from behind. We’re focused on Lucas instead, giving ample effort to put his best foot forward and make a strong impression. He’s not inauthentic -- no fake smiles or overt charm here -- but like Charlie said, he has a unique, quiet charisma. When he answers their question, speaking carefully and precisely to get every word right, there’s a soft intensity to it that is more compelling than any practiced grin could be.

Lucas: I want to study veterinary medicine, which has its roots in biology. And as far as I understand it, the core tenet to any living organism is growth. Being able to adapt, to evolve, become a better and more resilient version of what came before. And in many cases, organisms need support and the right environment to achieve that growth. The right nutrients, water, sunlight. There’s nothing in the randomness of the universe that says we have to support those things, to sustain life, but it happens anyway. [ a beat ] I know I’m not perfect. I’m not the ideal candidate on paper, and any look at my permanent record would warrant second thoughts. But I’m improving. I’m evolving. You can see it in my application -- it takes a lot of adaptation to go from expulsion at one school to being class president of another. It’s not easy, and it’s a lot of work, but… I’m putting in the effort to be better than I was before. You don’t have to take a chance on me, but… I believe with the proper environment -- Davis -- I can grow into something worth putting your support and money behind.

The interview panel considers this, one member nodding along while a couple others jot down notes. Lucas releases a breath, having endured the worst of it.

Behind his chair where his bookbag rests, his phone screen lights up with a silenced phone call. Eric’s contact name pops on the screen…

EXT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - DAY

But the call goes unanswered, leaving Riley waiting on the other end even more disappointed. She leaves a quick message when it goes to voicemail.

Riley: Hi, it’s Riley. I’m calling from Eric’s phone because he has the international plan -- I hope everything is going okay. I just, um… I got some news and I wanted to share it with you, so give me a call back when you get the chance. No rush or anything. And try me on my cell first, because we’ll probably be at the hotel and should be able to at least try wi-fi… but um, yeah. Okay. I miss you. Hopefully talk to you soon. Love you, bye.

She reluctantly hangs up, Eric approaching cautiously. She hands the phone back to him, thanking him for letting her use it. He does his best to reassure her that getting waitlisted is not the end of the world by any means. In fact, there is a silver lining to it in that Riley is clearly good enough to keep under consideration rather than outright rejection.

Riley: Just not good enough to accept.

Eric: Hey, a delayed acceptance is still an acceptance. The destination is the destination, regardless of how long it takes to get there. And you’ve got some information now that you didn’t before, which should help you in figuring out what to do next.

Fair enough. Riley tries to accept that positive spin, allowing the hug Eric gives her. Then he braces her shoulders and waits for her to meet his eyes.

Eric: You get to decide what happens next. That’s the most important thing. Don’t forget that.

Hear, hear. Riley nods, offering a light smile. The two of them head back towards the rest of the group, off to their next stop.

EXT. REGENT’S PARK - CUMBERLAND GREEN - DAY

It’s the evening, but the bright sky and chirping birds don’t show it. Regent’s Park is somewhat busy with tourists and family walking around, and people in business suits on their way home from work. The A class arrive, Simon leading the way with his yellow flag. Eric and Harper carry two large ice box coolers, with a few of the students helping out by carrying foldable chairs, picnic blankets and shopping bags with paper plates and cups.

Once they find a spot big enough for them to spread out, Eric tells everyone to get a picnic blanket and sit in groups, then he and Harper will go around with the food. 

Simon: If anybody wants to learn more about Regent’s Park, or the history of England in general, you can sit on my picnic blanket with me. I’ll be sharing lots of fun facts and answering any questions you have for the duration of tea. 

Dylan: Oh no, are we having tea? Shit, Ash, what should I do? You said I shouldn’t have tea anymore after that time at The Lego Movie… I’m gonna fail London.

Zay overhears this, plainly informing Dylan that tea is just another word for dinner. 

Yindra: I’m dying to hear what happened at The Lego Movie, though. Please do share.

The four of them, along with Riley, get a picnic blanket to sit as a group. Meanwhile, Maya holds court with Darby, Sarah, Haley and Clarissa -- Riley and Zayby aren’t enough motivation to eat with Dylan and Asher.

Maya calls Isadora and Farkle over, but neither seem keen to join the group of girls. Farkle sits down in between Asher and Riley instead, Asher awkwardly shuffling closer to Dylan to make room for his long legs. With a pout, Maya beckons Isadora again. Elsewhere, Chai spots Darby and Sarah and heads towards them, passing Isadora on the way. 

Chai: Want to sit with me? I was going to go with Darby and Sarah but if you’d rather sit just the two of us I’m sure we can find a spare blanket.

Isadora looks around, noticing that everybody else has found a place and that Harper and Eric have started to hand out food.

Isadora: I actually was planning on sitting with Simon, but you go ahead. 

Chai: I mean, I’m happy to sit with Simon, too. 

Isadora: Honestly, it’s fine. I know you’re not into all the history stuff.

Way to tell somebody you don’t want to sit with them without actually telling them. Isadora walks over to Simon’s picnic blanket, where Jade and Nigel are already sitting. Nigel and Simon are in the midst of a debate over the meaning behind one of Shakespeare’s works, a conversation that Isadora easily slips into.

Rather than upset, Chai looks angry as she watches Isadora sit down. She has half a mind to follow Isadora and force her to spend time with her, but she realises that that would do more harm than good. Instead, she sets her jaw and marches towards Sarah and Darby. 

Maya, somewhat smug: Trouble in paradise? I knew you two would crash and burn. 

Sarah: Tell me about it.

Not exactly supportive, but Chai doesn’t care. It’s fuel to the fire that’s burning brighter with every new interaction with Isadora.

The mood isn’t too much better over in Riley’s group. Mainly that news about her waitlisting has spread, and they’re all fired up on her behalf. She tries to assure them that it’s no big deal, people get waitlisted all the time, but all of them are in agreement that if anyone deserves not to be, it’s her. Zay is especially adamant, though he might be projecting some of his own admissions frustration and impatience onto her.

It’s Dylan that finds the knack for truly cheering her though, adding a little melodrama to the rallying around Riley that makes it feel more fun and less heavy. He grows increasingly impassioned about all of the ways that Riley has changed environments for the better -- look at AAA for crying out loud! -- and Tisch simply won’t know what they’re missing. Fools, the lot of them. It’s so obvious, really, that Riley is a cut above the rest.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Jolly Holiday” as performed by Mary Poppins Original London Cast Recording || Performed by Dylan Orlando (feat. Riley Matthews, Asher Garcia, Zay Babineaux, and Ensemble) (starting at 00:15)

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

Perhaps the biggest number of the episode, so following along with the lyrics can be very helpful for this spectacle. In fact, I don’t even think I can do the performance justice trying to write it out, so I highly encourage a listen to the track and I will try my best! Dylan wastes no time in launching into the number, replacing every “Mary” fittingly with “Riley” as he showers her in compliments -- a trend that will continue throughout.

Dylan: Why, it’s a jolly holiday with Riley. Riley makes your heart so light.

Riley: Oh, really…

Dylan: When the day is grey and ordinary, Riley makes the sun shine bright!

Riley: You do talk nonsense, Dyl!

Dylan: Oh happiness is blooming all around her. The daffodils are smiling at the dove!

Riley: I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about --

Dylan leans even further into the melodrama, falling onto his back and stretching across Asher’s lap as he really milks it. Suffice to say, he matches Bert’s cheeky charm near perfectly.

Dylan: When Riley holds your hand --

Asher: Dyl!

Dylan: You feel so grand. Your heart starts beating like [ pounding his heart to the beat ] a big brass band!

Asher: [ patting his side ] You’ve got enough brass for all of us…

Then Dylan pushes himself back upright and to his feet, concluding the opening verse by approaching Riley and offering her his hands. She takes them and lets him pull her to her feet, kicking off a visual journey in song through the idyllic park.

But first we take a detour to the plastics, complaining about their stop at the park. Boring! It’s just statues, ducks, and grannies! From there, once they’re done complaining about how it has nothing to offer them, we jump straight into the next set of sung lyrics (01:55), where Dylan takes over again.

EXT. REGENT’S PARK - SPORTS GREENS - DAY

He and Asher are guiding Riley along on their walk, playfully flirting with her and bolstering her confidence as they go. They weave their way through football players and pull them into the singing -- the whole performance definitely has some “That’s How You Know” energy from Enchanted. It’s also a good time to mention what Dylan and Asher are wearing this afternoon, which are purposefully but subtly meant to emulate this famous fashion moment.

Then Dylan takes a detour, leaning fully into the Bert silliness by delivering statue pun after statue pun (to the techie boys’ great delight, especially Dave). At one point, he yoinks a straw boater hat off an OLD MAN and continues on his merry way, which the old man complains about in a… bizarrely strong Cockney accent. His adult SON tells him to relax, though, and just enjoy the performance -- how can you disdain a fella with such spirit like that? As they have their brief comedic interaction, there’s definitely the sensation that the men look oddly familiar (for film and West End fans alike).

EXT. REGENT’S PARK - BOATING LAKE - DAY

Zay takes over from there for a verse or two, arm linked with Riley as the two of them traipse along the path around the boating lake. The ensemble out on the boats sings along, only increasing their share of infectious performing energy. These American students have a contagion of joyful singing, and it’s incurable!

A few paces behind them, Asher takes the Mary verse, turning some of the appreciation towards Dylan. Because of course, Dylan was the one who managed to rally Riley out of her low mood -- and get the whole Park singing along. It’s a cute little exchange between the two of them, cementing their Mary and Bert energies, and building us right along towards the big finish…

EXT. REGENT’S PARK - QUEEN MARY’S GARDENS - DAY

Dylan links his arm with Asher’s and then they’re leading the brigade, the A class and all the parkgoers they’ve collected along the way arriving at the beautiful and scenic Queen’s Gardens for the big finish. They proceed amidst the flowers with a flourish, many of them paired up as they dance their way along together -- Zay and Riley, Jade and Nigel, Isadora and Farkle. By the time they make it to the center of the rose gardens, they’re spread out all across the greens, energetically performing the choreography together and spirits most definitely lifted.

Dylan and Dave heft Riley up onto their shoulders at the centre of the crowd, causing her to laugh, as everyone brings it home.

No wonder it’s Riley that we love!

INT. CHARLIE’S CAR - DAY

The sun is just starting to set as Charlie pulls up at Lucas’s requested drop off, the Orlando community center just across the street. Charlie squints at it, confused.

Charlie: Isn’t this Dylan’s place?

Lucas: Yeah. I crash here sometimes. And Randall’s making calzones tonight. Hard to pass up.

Charlie: Oh. Cool.

Lucas: And they’ve got a dog, so.

He lets that be the end of the sentence, like it explains everything. And to Charlie, whose most consistent best friend is Skippy, it basically does. Lucas gathers his stuff and unbuckles his seatbelt.

Lucas: Your reception thing is tomorrow, right? At your church.

Charlie: Yeah. Lots of extended relatives, old people... none of my friends since they’re all out of town. Should be a hoot.

Lucas: Well, good luck with that.

He starts to climb out of the car, then hesitates, managing to do the vulnerable but decent thing.

Lucas: Thanks for the ride.

Charlie smiles, nodding. Lucas opens the door and climbs out, starting to cross the street to the community center. Then he remembers something else, doubling back and stopping in the middle of the street.

Lucas: Hey, Charlie.

Charlie is surprised he’s still being addressed, but more concerned with how Lucas is standing in the road just waiting to get hit by a car. But it’s Lucas, after all -- no fear. Charlie rolls his window down.

Charlie: Yeah?

Lucas: You could do it, too, you know. Your own thing. [ a beat ] I mean it.

Well. That’s an unexpectedly sincere sentiment. And impactful coming from Lucas, who Charlie apparently thinks of as the master of unapologetic authenticity. A return gesture, maybe, for the favor of driving him all that way.

That’s all he’s going to get at the moment, though, because that’s about as much vulnerability as Lucas can stomach in one day before he starts going into organ failure. He doesn’t give Charlie the chance to respond, jogging the rest of the way across the street to the community center and disappearing inside.

But it’s enough. It clearly lands with Charlie, leaving a mark… and making him think. After a moment, he pulls out his phone, dialing a number.

Charlie: Hey. We need to talk.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - TECHIE ROOM - NIGHT

Westminster was a bad idea for the boys, as now they’re obsessed with the Bloody Mary myth. Nate and Jeff have come over to join Dave and Yogi and they’re all crowded around the bathroom mirror, actively working to summon the vengeful spirit.

Nate: No, no, shut up. Shut up. Everyone has to commit to this. She’s not gonna come if we half-ass it.

Jeff: She’s not gonna come period.

Nate: That’s exactly what I fucking mean, Jeff. If you’re not committed to the cause, you can show yourself out.

For the record, Jade wishes she could do the same. She’s trying to focus on a book, but the boys are so loud, and there’s nowhere for her to escape to for a break. It’s a relief when there’s a knock at the door, and she’s even more grateful when it’s Nigel on the other side.

Nigel: Wondering if you might wanna take a walk before curfew?

Jade opens her mouth to answer, just as the boys finish chanting “Bloody Mary” at increasing volume. After the third repetition, Jeff screams, causing Nate and Dave to scream in turn... until they realize Jeff was just fucking with them.

Nate: JEFF. WHAT DID I SAY?

Jade blinks, then gives Nigel a flat smile.

Jade: I thought you’d never ask.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - RILEY’S ROOM - NIGHT

Asher isn’t party to the antics in his room, having smartly escaped to hang out with Riley and Dylan before Nate took over. He’s crashed on the bed with Dylan going through pictures that they took over the course of the day. Asher frowns at one that Dylan swipes to, squinting to get a better look.

Asher: What is that supposed to be of?

Dylan: It’s not obvious? [ zooming in ] Look at that squirrel, Ash! They’re like up chilling on the abbey, welcoming us to their domain.

Asher: That’s your favorite picture you took today, isn’t it?

Dylan: Vicar squirrel. Squirrel vicar. I want her to bless our marriage.

They drop the conversation when Riley reenters the room, freshly showered and looking more at ease than she was most of the day. They ask if she’s feeling better, if the shower helped, and she confirms it did.

Riley: I really think it was just mainly the shock, you know? A lot of information to process at once that I wasn’t prepared for.

Asher: Totally. I get that.

Dylan: But it’s okay to be upset about it, too. Like, just because it’s not news you wanted to get. You’re allowed to be bummed about things not going the way you planned.

Maybe so, Dylan… though that’s obviously not easy for Riley to accept. She’s all about validating her friends’ emotions, encouraging them to feel whatever they need to feel, but it’s not so easy to practice what you preach.

Asher commiserates about unideal circumstances, though, as it’s his turn to complain about the wi-fi. He comments it’s like this place may not even have it at all… are they sure it’s not just a ruse? But his theory is disproved moments later when Riley’s phone starts buzzing, getting an incoming call.

Asher: Of course…

Dylan: You are so magical.

Riley’s expression lights up when she sees who it is, a picture of Lucas surrounded by kittens at the shelter appearing on her screen. She answers immediately.

Riley: Hello?

INT. ORLANDO HOME - DYLAN’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

The United Kingdom is intercut with Lucas back in Manhattan, changed out of his nicer clothes and back in a tee and comfortable sweats for the night. He smiles lightly when he hears her voice, realizing the call managed to go through. On the bed behind him, Dylan’s St. Bernard dog Mr. Puff is resting, idly watching Lucas move around the space.

Lucas: Hey. I got your message.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - RILEY’S ROOM - NIGHT

They’re connected, yes, but the service is spotty at best. Their voices get a little warped and Lucas cuts out for a moment, prompting Riley to start moving to find the best signal. She tells him to hold on, but to keep talking so she can see how he sounds. Dylan and Asher perk up.

Asher: Is it Lucas?

Dylan: It’s Lucas! HI, LUCAS!

Riley: Shh, I’m trying to listen!

Asher: Let’s go, Lucas James!

Dylan: LET’S GO, LUCAS JAMES!

Riley cracks up, shushing them as she continues to hover into different parts of the room. Finally, she seems to find a solution, heading towards the small balcony while the signal improves with every step. She grants Dylan and Asher a second to say hi and holds the phone out towards them, letting them shout at their best friend, then she hushes them as she steps out onto the balcony and closes the door behind her.

EXT. LONDON HOTEL - RILEY’S ROOM - BALCONY - NIGHT

With the signal clear and a quieter environment, the two of them can actually hear each other. Lucas admits he only heard about half of whatever just happened in the last minute, but she assures him it was just Dylan and Asher being silly.

Lucas: Sorry I missed your call earlier. I was, uh, preoccupied with something.

Riley: Oh, it’s okay. It wasn’t like a big thing. I just wanted… I guess I just wanted to hear your voice.

Lucas smiles to himself, bashful.

Riley: But we’re talking now, so, it’s all good. Got what I came for.

Lucas: Cool. Good. You said you had news?

Riley: Yeah. Um… [ making herself admit it ] I heard from Tisch. I got waitlisted.

Lucas: Shit.

Riley: Yeah.

Lucas shakes his head, trying to find the right thing to say. Riley fills the silence in the meantime, downplaying it.

Riley: I mean, it’s not a big deal. It’s one school. And you know, it’s like, I wasn’t even sure if I would’ve gone if I had gotten in. So it’s not like everything is ruined, or anything. It was just a surprise. That’s all.

Lucas: Still, that sucks. But they’re shitty anyway if they’re going to put you out like that. They obviously don’t realize what they’ve got in front of them -- especially if Maya got in and you didn’t.

Riley: I don’t know about that…

She’s disagreeing for the sake of cordiality, and she knows Lucas is one-hundred percent biased, but it’s still nice to hear him say it. And given how well they know each other, how close they are, Lucas hits on the true reason it stings so much effortlessly.

Lucas: You’re too good to be a second choice, Riley. If they can’t see that, then fuck them. You deserve to go somewhere that understands exactly how spectacular you are.

And though he acts like he never has the right words, he knew exactly what to say. Riley fiddles with the L charm on her necklace and chews her lip, unable to stop smiling.

Lucas: And anyway, you were stoked about Barnard, right? I feel like we talked a lot about them when you were applying. And they accepted you with a competitive offer, so clearly they know what they’re doing.

Riley: Yeah, they were my top choice otherwise.

Lucas: So you can start thinking about how you want to make the most of that now. You get to focus on all the possibilities, which I know you never get tired of.

Riley: [ with a laugh ] That’s true, I do enjoy possibilities. [ fondly ] Thanks, Lucas.

Lucas: Of course. Any time.

It almost aches, talking to him like this. Being so far apart, feeling so much that she can’t express the way she wants. It’s practically radiating off her, how much she loves him written all over her face.

Riley: I wish you were here. I know it’s kind of silly, because it’s only been a couple of days, but I miss you. A lot.

Lucas: [ after a moment ] Me too.

But he isn’t there, so they’ll have to make do. Riley isn’t ready to say goodbye yet, especially since there’s no telling when the next chance she’ll have decent wi-fi will be, so she keeps the conversation going.

Riley: I thought about you a lot today, actually. We went to Regent’s Park, and they’ve got a zoo...

Lucas climbs onto Dylan’s bed next to Mr. Puff, reclining back and settling in for a while.

Lucas: I hope you’re going to elaborate. [ softly ] Tell me about it.

So she does. Riley drops into a sitting position on the balcony, leaning back against the metal bars and launching into a thrilling recap. As the camera drifts downwards to the room a couple floors below...

Jack, pre-lap: Sounds like you’re handling it well, then.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - ERIC’S ROOM - NIGHT

Eric is on the phone as well, though he has the luxury of the international phone plan so he can comfortably sit at the desk in his room rather than cram onto the balcony. He’s just finished catching Jack up on the trip so far, and yes, the fact that no one has gotten injured or disappeared is a source of weary pride. Jack assures him that everything is running smoothly on the home front too when he asks.

Eric: Look at us, dividing and conquering. What’s that known as… could it be effective leadership? No idea what Yancy thinks he’s got on us.

Jack: To be fair, your leadership capacity was never in question.

Eric: No being fair to that man. He’s a hack, and he’s wrong. Moving on.

Jack laughs, Eric pleased with how he’s managing to keep him in lighter spirits.

Eric: You’ll be happy to know, actually, that I’ve been giving your proposition some thought.

Jack: [ tentatively hopeful ] Really? About filling out the principal application?

Eric: Don’t get too excited, I just said I’m thinking about it. But you may have made a few compelling points.

Jack: I often do.

Eric: What would be the harm in the practice of it, you know? Could be good to flex those muscles. And I know it wouldn’t go anywhere, since like I said, you’re the ideal candidate. So… I don’t know. Maybe it would be worth the time. I’m considering it, at least, so I hope you’re pleased.

Jack: Eric, I have no doubt in my mind that you would make an excellent principal. Especially at Adams.

Wow… Jack sounds pretty impassioned about that concept, especially for something only hypothetical. But it touches Eric all the same, his expression not looking all that different from how Riley’s looked while talking to Lucas.

Eric: Well, I should go. My night to do curfew rounds.

Jack: Best of luck, authoritarian-in-training. Make me proud.

Eric: Still stand by my stance that it would be better if you were here.

Jack doesn’t seem inclined to argue with that. But for now, nothing to be done. The two exchange goodnights and warm wishes, Eric smiling as he hangs up the phone.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - LOBBY - NIGHT

Jade and Nigel have lost track of time, situated in a couple of comfortable chairs in a small corner of the spacious lobby. They’re deep in conversation, the casual traipse around the hotel having shifted into a philosophical, meaningful chat that neither of them want to end.

Naturally, they’ve drifted to talking about the future, contrasting it against the minor vent session Jade already had in regards to the techie boys. She admits that she doesn’t really think it’s their fault, her irritation. It’s more about her.

Nigel: Why do you say that?

Jade: This is going to sound crazy, but I’m like… I feel like I’ve outgrown it. All of it. Does that make sense? Like, I love the techies. They’re like my brothers, they’re family. And I love being part of the A class. But the way everyone feels, this kind of drama around everything ending or whatever… I don’t feel that. If anything, I’m ready for something new. Sometimes it almost feels like it can’t get out of here fast enough. [ with an embarrassed laugh ] Does that make me a bitch? Am I way more soulless than I thought?

Nigel: I don’t think so. And I definitely don’t think you’re a bitch.

Jade: That’s impressive, considering the amount of Jade-specialty vent sessions you’ve had to listen to by now.

Nigel: You’re human. And remember, even your harshest mood is probably still leagues kinder than Maya Hart on any given day. Don’t forget context when you’re self-analyzing your own ugly emotions.

Good point. Jade runs a hand through her hair, tilting her head as she listens attentively to his perspective on it.

Nigel: But honest, it doesn’t make you a bitch. I get what you mean. Everyone is going to come around at different times, and deal with change in their own way, but I’m excited about what comes next. I think you said it right, the thing about outgrowing Adams. It’s not that you don’t appreciate it, and the people are always going to be family. But we’re ready to move onto the next thing. That’s okay. That’s a good thing, actually, most people would probably be jealous of how ready for it you are.

There is truly nothing so bonding and validating as a late-night conversation with someone you love. Jade smiles, grateful. She reaches out and takes his hand.

Jade: At least there’s one thing I know I’m never going to outgrow.

Aw… yeah, it’s kind of crazy to remember how long Jade has had feelings for Nigel. And it’s true that even as they’ve changed, she hasn’t outgrown them -- they’ve simply matured with them. Nigel beams, lifting their hands and planting a brisk kiss on her knuckles.

It would be nice if they could outgrow their rotten luck on this trip, though. They’re startled out of their quiet comfortability when Eric comes into the lobby on his rounds, spotting them sitting there. They blink at him, realizing they probably shouldn’t be hanging around in the lobby, and Nigel quickly checks his watch.

Jade: What time is it?

Nigel: Oh, shit --

From where he’s staring at them, dreading having to actually reprimand someone, Eric releases a pained sigh.

Eric: I really didn’t want to have to be an authoritarian…

EXT. LONDON HOTEL - ROOFTOP - NIGHT

The view from the top of the hotel isn’t the best, looking down on the streets of London and other hotels, but tonight is a little more interesting. There’s a night market going on, with vendors selling various cuisines and tourists who don’t have curfews wandering around. A SITARIST gently strums, creating a calm atmosphere.

Chai, who watches the scene from the rooftop, is anything but calm, though. She paces around, chewing on her nails as she waits.

When Isadora opens the door and creeps out, Chai drops her arms and halts. 

Isadora: I got your text. 

Chai: [ passive aggressive ] Nice of you to show up.

Confused and uncomfortable, Isadora asks what’s going on, to which Chai rolls her eyes. 

Chai: What do you think, Isa? [ off Isadora’s visible confusion ] You’ve been pushing me away this whole trip. No, even before the trip. I feel more like your annoying friend you secretly hate than your girlfriend. I’m fed up of it.

Oh. Isadora isn’t sure what to say to that. A STAFF MEMBER gets up from where they’re sat in a smoking area. They put out their cigarette and mutter a good luck to Isadora as they pass. She’s gonna need it. 

Chai: Why? I deserve to know. Did I do something wrong? Do you not want to be together anymore? What is it? 

Isadora: I… I don’t know. 

Chai: [ with a scoff ] You don’t know. Wonderful. That’s great, Isadora. Real great.

Isadora gets angry, not appreciating being shouted at. 

Isadora: What do you want me to say? Sorry? I’m sorry I offended you, Chai. There. 

Chai: I want you to tell me what’s going on with you! I may not be your therapist or Eric, but I’m your girlfriend and I deserve to know why you’re treating me like this. I deserve to be recognised.

Tell her, Chai. All of Chai’s frustration and anger over being ignored and feeling invisible yet again comes out as she vents. While this helps Chai feel somewhat better, as expressing your feelings always does, it overwhelms Isadora. She wraps her arms around herself and chews her lip. 

Chai: Relationships take work, Isa. If my parents divorce taught me anything, it’s that communication is key. But you don’t talk to me. You can’t even stand to be in my presence. It’s not fair. Either break up with me or act like my fucking girlfriend and COMMUNICATE!

Isadora opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Rather than give Isadora time to process everything she just said, Chai snaps that this just goes to prove her point. Her patience has worn too thin to be considerate. 

Isadora, quietly: Are you saying you want to break up? 

Chai: If that’s what you want, yes. I don’t want to be strung along when you want out.

Is that a yes or a no? Isadora isn’t sure. There’s no time to clarify, because Eric comes out of the rooftop door. Both girls turn to look at him. 

Eric: One of the staff told me two Americans were up here. You two okay? 

Chai, flat: Dandy. 

Eric: … great. It’s past lights out, so I’m going to have to punish you both I’m afraid. 

Chai: Fine. I don’t even care anymore.

Chai shoots one last glare towards Isadora before moving past Eric and heading downstairs. Yikes. Eric frowns, concerned. 

Eric: What’s going on there? Do you want to talk about it? 

Isadora, snapping: No. Leave me alone.

She marches through the door and into the lift, pressing the button for the lobby before the doors slide shut. 

Eric: Wait, where are you going? Your room is on the third floor. Isadora?

It’s too late. She’s gone. With a sigh, Eric pulls out his phone and enters the stairwell. 

Eric, into the phone: Harper? You’re gonna have to take over for me…

EXT. LONDON - NIGHT MARKET - NIGHT

Isadora steps out of the hotel into the colourful, lively night market. No longer in her clothes from the day, but a ‘60s punk inspired look complete with hair sticking up in spikes, heavy eye makeup and a leather jacket with chains on it. Despite the world around her being in colour, Isadora herself is in black and white.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Paint It, Black” as performed by The Rolling Stones || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz

The sitarist strums to start us off. Isadora gets a couple of coins out of her pocket and drops them into the sitarist’s open case. The gentle-looking Indian man gives her a nod in gratitude, and when Isadora nods in return, the drums kick in. In an instant, the sitarist transforms. He’s now dressed in punk clothes, and becomes monochrome like Isadora, who sets off down the street.

I see a red door And I want it painted black No colors anymore I want them to turn black

She sings in a flat voice, staring dead into the camera, unaffected by the jovial people around her.

A few feet behind her, Eric struggles to catch up as he moves through the crowd. While Isadora channels her inner Medusa and turns the people and scenery around her into a black and white 60s pink fever dream, Eric remains in colour and modern.

Isadora passes a flower stall and picks up a handful of colourful flowers.

With flowers and my love Both never to come back

She scrunches up the flowers in her fist, the now colourless petals fall to the floor. When Eric gets to the florist, he apologises and gives them some money for the ruined flowers.

Isadora arrives at the end of the street where she can look at the river Thames in the distance. The last of the sunset reflects on the water, the only remaining colour around her.

If I look hard enough Into the setting sun My love will laugh with me Before the morning comes

She finishes off the performance in the same spot, dancing like a punk rocker in a mosh pit. She slows to a standstill and looks across at the sunset.

I wanna see the sun Blotted out from the sky I wanna see it painted, painted, painted Painted black, yeah

A downpour of rain brings an end to the performance, melting away the monochrome and punk as it drenches everything. Isadora allows the rain to shower her, but Eric -- who’s finally reached her -- covers his head with his arms. 

Eric: Are you done being an angsty teenager now? 

Isadora: Yes. 

Eric: I’m going to have to add another punishment for this, you know that, right?

They walk back to the hotel as the vendors pack up their stalls and tourists run inside for cover. Isadora is certainly more colourful now with her green hair, but she still looks just as punk and angsty as before. 

Isadora: Whatever.

She quickens her pace so that Eric lags behind. He shakes his head. 

Eric: Adopt a teenager, they said. It’ll be so rewarding, they said.

EXT. LONDON HOTEL - DAY

 The A class is filing onto the bus the next morning, Freya standing by the doors and helping count as they board while Simon flatly delivers a rousing explanation of their itinerary for the day. They’re on their way to the National Theatre, so better get ready for some fantastic playacting.

As the techie boys board the bus, they each greet Freya cheerfully, mimicking tipping their hats at her. For her brusque demeanor, she seemed relatively charmed by their silliness.

Meanwhile, Harper and Eric have pulled aside Jade, Nigel, Chai, and Isadora. Harper has taken over the tough love authority role, informing them that due to their breach of curfew yesterday, it’s been decided that they will spend the remainder of the day separated. Nigel and Jade attempt to plead their case.

Nigel: We really weren’t trying to skirt curfew. We just lost track of time.

Jade: I’ve been a perfectly rule-abiding student my entire career at Adams.

Isadora, helpfully: You participated in the techie revolt.

Jade: [ without looking at her ] Thank you, didn’t ask for your input. Mister E, you know we weren’t doing anything wrong. Please.

Eric, reluctantly: Being out past curfew is doing something wrong, Jade. You and Nigel will have plenty of time to spend together on the rest of the trip. [ nodding towards the bus ] Let’s go.

Jade sighs, spinning and heading towards the bus in defeat. Nigel waits a moment and then uncertainly follows, not sure exactly how much distance he’s supposed to put between them. Harper and Eric turn to Chai and Isadora.

Eric: And Isadora, your extra punishment for leaving the hotel on your own --

Isadora: You were with me the entire time. 

Eric: Yes, but you left without me. I simply followed you. Regardless, your extra punishment is no spending money for two days. Every time you leave the hotel, or group, without supervision or permission, another two days will be added. 

Isadora: I’m eighteen, I can spend my money if I want to.

Eric gives her a warning look. Not one from the school trip supervisor, but one from a dad. Isadora sighs and nods.

Harper: Any other arguments from you, ladies?

They glance at each other, still fuming from their argument. Chai shrugs, projecting aloof.

Chai: A little space will be nice, actually.

She turns to go, marching towards the bus. Eric watches the exchange, eyeing Isadora curiously. Ready to talk about it yet? Isadora shakes her head defiantly, not in the mood. She stomps away, Harper offering Eric a supportive pat on the back. Being the authority ain’t no joke!

INT. NATIONAL THEATRE - LOBBY - DAY

Simon and Eric make sure each of the students has a ticket to the production they’re about to see of Oliver! Harper instructs them that although they can’t control which seat they get, they’re welcome to swap amongst themselves if they see fit like the plane.

INT. NATIONAL THEATRE - OLIVIER THEATRE - DAY

Farkle has settled into his seat, one of the first in the class. As fate would have it, who should have the seat next to him but Isadora. They exchange smiles when she drops down next to him, Isadora already more relaxed than she’s been on the rest of the trip so far.

Farkle: We’ve got to stop meeting like this.

Isadora: Why do you make everything weird? Stop.

Farkle: I’m just saying, there’s some kind of karma going on here that you and I somehow always end up stuck together. I’m just not sure which one of us is getting punished.

Isadora: Mutual destruction.

Oh, aye. Farkle nods, accepting that with an amused smirk. He does ask though if she didn’t bother to try and swap a seat so Chai can sit with them. Isadora shrugs.

Isadora: We can’t anyway. We got banned from interacting today.

Farkle frowns, bewildered. He starts to question further, but they’re interrupted by Maya arriving to join them. She plops into the seat on the other side of Farkle, greeting them brightly.

Farkle: You too, huh? Guess we really are tied by the red string.

Isadora: Strangled, maybe.

Maya: What? Oh, no, this wasn’t luck. I threatened Yogi into trading with me. [ with a beam ] Should be a jolly good show.

Another ominous statement that needs elaboration… but no time. The lights dim, signaling the start of the show as the orchestra tunes below. Farkle and Isadora exchange a look, the latter playfully bumping his elbow on the arm rest between them as they settle in for the first act.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Charlie is nearly ready for his reception, looking cute and polished in his khakis and dress shirt. No tie yet though. He pulls on the navy suit jacket and adjusts the sleeves, touching up his hair in the closet mirror. It needs to look combed and styled just the right way so that most of his guests won’t even notice the length.

Rosie knocks on the door, stepping inside the room when Charlie nods her in. She’s dressed in a cute floral sundress.

Rosie: You look like a nerd.

Charlie: Wow, thank you, dear sister of mine. What a nice thing to say to me, on this, the day of my celebration.

Rosie: I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It’s just a fact. And you are a nerd, so it’s fitting.

Charlie: You look nice, though. Bit bold on the eye makeup. I mean, I don’t mind, but don’t you think mom is gonna say something?

Rosie: Who cares? And honestly, no. You are the sole recipient of her smothering attention today -- I’m just the errand girl. [ holding out her hand ] She wanted me to bring you this, so you didn’t forget it.

A Yale lapel pin. Just in case anybody forgets for five seconds that he got accepted. Charlie takes it, barely hiding his reluctance.

Charlie: Great. Thanks. I’ll be down in a second.

Rosie nods, then hesitates. It’s obvious there’s something on the tip of her tongue, something she wants to say… but she doesn’t really know how to say it, or maybe even really exactly what it is, so she doesn’t try. She retreats and leaves Charlie alone.

Charlie looks at his reflection again, really scrutinizing it. It’s going to be a long day of presenting… he needs to brace himself as much as he can. He goes to get some fresh air, stepping out onto his balcony as the orchestration kicks up…

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Where Is Love?” as performed by Oliver! London Palladium Cast || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz, Farkle Minkus, Riley Matthews, Charlie Gardner, and Zay Babineaux

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

Charlie leans against the rail of his balcony, turning the Yale pin over in his fingers. A shiny accessory for all those shiny stats… he sighs, looking out to his neighborhood and closing his eyes. Absorbing the temporary calm.

INT. NATIONAL THEATRE - OLIVIER THEATRE - DAY

At the same time, the production of Oliver! is in full swing, teeing up the famous track. Our key A class players watch with varied levels of interest, the actual Oliver actor kicking off the song with the first verse.

Then, things get a little interesting. Smooth transitions and creative camera angles allow us to seamlessly move from one performer to the next, creating a tapestry of interpretations.

Isadora picks up the slack first, echoing the sentiments of the show as she takes over the next couple of lines from her spot in the audience next to Farkle. Her expression is pensive, heavy, speaking to any number of things -- her late mother, her fracturing romance, her friends going in any number of directions. She and Farkle harmonize on “that’s only meant for me,” cueing the first transition…

Only it seems at first glance like the actual performer is taking back over -- and that’s because Farkle is now occupying the stage. He’s inhabiting the role of Oliver (finally reaching his peak as sickly Victorian orphan), dressed in the costume and smeared with dirt, but fully immersed in the performance. It isn’t until his actual self chimes in, taking over halfway through and watching himself from the audience, that we understand his take -- is love the dream, the art, the opportunities he could chase to a stage in Los Angeles… or is it sitting right next to him, not wanting him to go anywhere? He glances at Isadora, contemplative.

‘Til I am beside the someone who…

Riley and Farkle’s vocals overlap next, and she takes his place on the stage. Only her set up is different -- stripped down, simplistic, and she’s plain-clothed -- and there’s only one member in the audience. She looks directly at an imaginary Lucas as she sings the famed title lines, eyes shining and the world just the two of them. The only audience she cares about; the one who has been elevating her to be more almost since they met.

Where is love?

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

Charlie examines the Yale pin, growing more and more averse the longer he does. He knows for sure that it isn’t love -- that there’s nothing he’s more apathetic about -- but if Yale isn’t the answer, what is? If not there, then where? Where does he truly belong?

Who can say where she may hide Must I travel far and wide?

Zay’s vocals ease in and harmonize effortlessly with Charlie’s, the screen splitting in a fade to show both of them as they share the next line. Then focus is solely Zay’s for a moment, him standing alone on the empty stage.

INT. NATIONAL THEATRE - OLIVIER THEATRE - DAY

There’s no one watching his performance, his question more of a shout into the void. With everything so frozen in time, on every front, he has to wonder when things will resume -- when someone will start putting him first again, that he can mean something to.

Then he prompts the final crescendo, all of the vocalists joining back together for a strong harmonized finish.

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

As the orchestration peters out, Charlie takes another look at the lapel pin… then pockets it, choosing not to put it on. He heads back into his room.

INT. NATIONAL THEATRE - OLIVIER THEATRE - DAY

The audience breaks into applause as the performer wraps up the rendition, the A class clapping along. The production rolls right along, oblivious to the projection the ensemble just imagined through the performance.

INT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - BANQUET HALL - DAY

Charlie’s reception is off without a hitch, a pleasant and charming gathering set up in the lovely banquet hall of their church. It’s well-attended for a graduation party, though it’s anyone’s guess how many of those people are there for Eleanor versus the actual man of the hour. She’s clearly in her element, entertaining a gaggle of church ladies and getting ample opportunity to brag about her golden son and all his accomplishments.

Eleanor: That’s right, Yale. Oh, we’re so excited. And you know, I don’t want to jinx anything -- but he’s been quite friendly with one of his good friends these last few months. Riley?

Trina: Oh, of course. You’ve mentioned her plenty.

Danielle: And we saw the prom photos! Such a gorgeous duo.

Maitland: Eleanor… you’re not saying --

Eleanor, coyly: I’m only saying, ladies. Keep your ears to the ground -- there might be some big news on that front any day now.

Well, I wouldn’t bet your pass to Heaven on it, Eleanor. The ladies twitter enthusiastically anyway, though, all sold on the concept of dear, darling Charlie perhaps announcing a commitment to Riley Matthews.

As misrepresentative as that sentiment is, Charlie isn’t completely without peers of his own. EVAN SCOTT has shown up to offer his congratulations, chatting with Charlie comfortably by the gift table where he’s easily accessible for guests to come and pay him well wishes. It’s nice of Evan to show up, and Charlie clearly appreciates it -- perhaps an actual friend came out of the hell that was Haverford after all.

Evan: I’m sure the rest of the guys would’ve come too, but I guess there’s a lot going on right now. Lots of post-graduation travel, you know?

They’d have to be invited to even know to show up, Evan, and even if they were, Charlie knows damn well that would never happen. He offers a tight smile anyway, opting not to get into it.

Charlie: Totally. Ha ha.

He’s about to gain another unexpected ally. He nearly falls over when Rosie bolts over and rams into him, speaking so fast and in a hushed whisper that he can’t even understand her.

Charlie: You excuse me for a second, Evan? I think my sister’s been possessed.

Evan laughs, giving them space. Charlie gets Rosie to calm down, instructing her to speak slowly so he has even a chance of understanding what’s got her so energized. She’s breathless, and her eyes are wide.

Rosie: Bridgette. She’s -- did you know that she was -- Bridge, she’s --

Her name was all Charlie needed to hear. He stabilizes Rosie by steadying her shoulders and then glances around her, looking towards the doorway.

Lo and behold, the rumors are true -- and spreading quickly throughout the congregation. Bridgette Gardner has arrived, timid but decisively, making an unexpected and triumphant return to the fray. She’s at least spared Charlie the drama of wearing a lace bralette by showing up in a casual but classy black jumpsuit, but her mere presence is enough to get people talking no matter what she chose to wear.

She and Charlie lock eyes, the latter breaking into a smile. Yes, it’s clear he was actually expecting her. He ignores all the eyes on him as he makes his way across the room and goes to greet her at the entrance, then suspends any potential assumption that she isn’t welcome by pulling her into a hug.

Well, this is guaranteed to be the talk of the event when everyone heads home this afternoon -- forget all of Eleanor’s careful planning. The woman herself is shell-shocked, doing her best to maintain appearances and appear unflappable but obviously stunned by the surprise arrival. Ambrose stares from across the room where he’s chatting with other husbands, equally caught off guard but seemingly not affronted by his daughter’s sudden reappearance.

Bridgette and Charlie pull apart. She scans the room around them, the nosy partygoers eyeing them with rapt interest, then raises an eyebrow at him. She offers a brave smirk.

Bridgette: Nice tie.

She’s right, it is a nice tie -- and she’d know, since she picked it out. Charlie glances down at it, a tasteful but simple floral pattern in soft blues, greens, and purples. Fresh, understated, and far more like Charlie than anything else picked out for the reception.

He returns her smile, then invites her further into the party.

Grace, pre-lap: So you think it went well?

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - DAY

Lucas and GRACE FRIAR are chatting at the kitchen table, Lucas helping her go through bills as they recap the gist of his interview. It’s hard for him to say, but all things considered, he didn’t think it went poorly. There’s a chance, at least, which is more than Lucas usually has to go off of.

It’s clear from the expression on her face that Grace is proud of him. She doesn’t know how to articulate that, and she’s only able to really show it in the moments when he’s not looking, but the glimmer in her eyes and small smile on her face leave little room for doubt.

She reiterates that she hopes it works out, because they really need the financial support. Going through the bills just makes that all the more clear… but she thinks he can do it. He can get the aid. And he’s been saving all that money to supplement it -- which he’ll need every cent of, to be sure -- but it could really happen. He might get out of here.

Lucas is obviously trying to keep his expectations subterranean levels of low, but even he has an excited edge to his voice when he talks about it. They transition to discussing the rest of the day, Grace asking if he’s got plans. With Riley and Dylan and Asher out of town, he must be bored stuck here with her.

Lucas: I’ve found bizarre ways to keep myself busy. But I have a quick thing to do in a few minutes, then I’m probably gonna go to the Orlandos again for dinner. I think Randall is making tacos.

Grace, wistfully: That sounds delicious. I can’t remember the last time I had a really good taco. I don’t know what I’m going to be doing for dinner… just pick-up, I suppose.

Lucas: Dad’s not eating with you?

Grace: He has a doctor’s appointment. Said he probably wouldn’t be hungry after.

Lucas: [ with a scoff ] Since when does anyone in this apartment go to the doctor…

He doesn’t bother to hide the bitterness in his voice. But Grace merely shrugs, claiming he just told her about it this morning. She thinks it’s just his annual physical -- something the two of them don’t get the privilege of having, of course -- but that’s all she knows.

Lucas gets up to get ready to go, claiming if she wants, he can ask Randall if she can come over for dinner. She waves him off, not wanting him to go to the trouble, but Lucas insists.

Lucas: Come on, mom. You deserve to have a really good taco sometimes.

Well, when you put it like that… Grace laughs to herself, then shrugs.

Grace: Why not. Better than anything I would throw together here, I’m sure.

That’s settled, then! Lucas tells her he’ll let her know when to head over tonight. First, though, he’s got business to take care of.

EXT. COVENT GARDEN - DAY

Covent Garden is bustling with people, tourists and locals alike. Boutiques line the streets, along with plenty of cafés and restaurants. The class is free to roam on their own (even Isadora), and they have a good couple of hours to do all the shopping they desire (except Isadora).

As the class sets off to explore, Eric thanks Freya for filling in for Harper. 

Freya: Don’t worry about it. Got nuffin’ else to do but sit in my bus, ‘ave I?

Eric is a little bewildered by Freya’s thick West Country accent, not having heard her talk this much before, but thanks her once again. He turns to Simon and asks him to show him where the best coffee is. If he’s going to survive any longer on this trip, he’s going to need a lot more caffeine.

Elsewhere, the techie boys arrive at the square where professional street performers work. There’s a STRING QUARTET playing music that matches the sunny weather and upbeat atmosphere, a CIRCUS PERFORMER walking around on super high stilts in stripy colourful trousers, and… a dog? A DOG MAN? A man’s head somehow stuck in a kennel? Whatever it is, their attention has been caught.

The dog man greets them as they run over to him, his accent northern and his tone depressed. It’s unclear whether the depression is part of the character or because of the fact that he’s playing this character. 

Nate: Dude! This is amazing! Quick, get a pic of me and this guy.

Jeff: Genuinely iconic. 

Dylan: Can I film you for my vlog? 

Dog Man: What the hell is a vlog?

Well, this’ll certainly keep them entertained for a while.

Jade and Isadora are wandering around the fruit market. Both separated from the other half of their couples, but one a lot more upset about it than the other. 

Jade: This whole thing is so insanely stupid. It’s totally cruel to ban us from interacting... we were literally just talking.

Isadora: Is it really that big a deal? It’s like one day. Why do you care?

Jade: ... because he’s my boyfriend? Because we were excited to hang out on this trip together? I don’t know. [ a beat ] You know, Dora, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve been a little sharp.

Isadora: No kidding?

Jade: Like I get it, I’m not in the best mood either. But... especially since you don’t even seem to care about your punishment, seems kind of weird.

Someone actually calling Isadora out on her behavior -- someone other than her father figure, that is -- kind of snaps her out of it. She blinks, twisting her fingers together.

Isadora: Sorry. Didn’t even realize.

Jade: It’s fine. I’m just saying. And like, you don’t even have to deal with it, really, since your girlfriend isn’t even here...

Isadora gets lost in thought, contemplating what Jade said. Has she been as barbed as everyone seems to think? Speaking of, where is Chai? And Harper, for that matter?

INT. GUILDHALL SCHOOL - CORRIDOR - DAY

The women sit in a makeshift waiting area along with other hopeful university students and their guardians at Guildhall University, a school dedicated to the musical and theatre arts. Chai seems nervous, but determined, tapping her foot lightly as they wait.

TRUDY, a short middle-aged woman with bright blue hair and a multi-patterned dress on, pushes open a door. 

Trudy: Rebecca Fresco?

Chai stands up and follows Trudy into her final audition. Harper gives her a thumbs up.

Harper: You got this.

Chai gives Harper a nervous smile. The door swings shut.

INT. GUILDHALL SCHOOL - REHEARSAL ROOM - DAY

Along a table sit the ADMISSIONS PANEL. There are six of them, including Trudy, who sits down in her chair while Chai takes position in the middle of the room. 

Chai: I actually go by my middle name -- Chai -- not Rebecca.

Trudy apologises and makes a note of her preferred name. She tells Chai that she’s the only American who’s gotten this far in the process. There are a couple of other foreign students, but they’re all from Europe. She goes on to explain that because this is the first year of their new, experimental arts degree, there’s a lot of things still in the air, and it will be shaped around what the students need and want. 

Trudy: Is there any particular part of theatre arts that you’re most interested in? I know you went to a performing arts high school, so I expect that’s your main focus? 

Chai: It is currently, yes. I’m very open to exploring other areas of the arts, though. My school has a way of bringing people together no matter what their focus is or where their talents lay, so I’ve gotten the opportunity to learn about the technical production side of theatre, too. 

Trudy: That’s great. What do you think you’d gravitate towards when studying here? 

Chai: Definitely dancing and vocal performance, but also stage makeup and costuming. I’m skilled in hair and makeup, and this past semester I’ve been learning the basics of designing and making clothes. 

Trudy: Brill. We can definitely cater to that. [ a beat as she and the others write things down ] Okay. You’ve prepared a performance for this audition, correct?

Chai nods. She has a vocal performance, then a dance performance. One of the admissions people gets the prepared music up on their phone and presses play.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Know I Have A Heart” as performed by Cinderella West End Original Cast || Performed by Chai Fresco & Isadora De La Cruz

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

Chai takes a breath, then sings. Her voice is bright and clear and she hits the notes with relative ease. She’s come a long way since the beginning of her journey at Adams and the days of being a backup singer for Maya. What makes this performance so impressive, though, is the passion behind it. The lyrics hit close to home at the moment, and the emotion she expresses packs a punch.

I was so not naïve With no heart on my sleeve Always walked out before I was rejected

When the orchestra comes in, Chai begins to move. She uses the space as if it’s a stage, treating the panel as an audience rather than the people deciding her fate. Her stage presence shines, the role of heartbroken princess a perfect fit.

I was so unaware That I could fall so hard But what good is a heart If you don't care?

EXT. COVENT GARDEN - NEAL’S YARD - DAY

We cut to the person in question, Isadora. She’s in a smaller part of Covent Garden full of colour. Some of the buildings have their walls painted, while others leave the bricks bare and instead paint the window frames and shutters.

Isadora looks through a shop window, then turns as she takes over the song.

Should have known all along That I need to be strong For a girl who's like me There's no happy ending

She walks towards a boutique, fancy dresses and glass slippers in the window. When the music swells into the chorus, she begins to waltz around the yard. We cut between her and Chai, who’s doing the same. A slow dance cut in two.

And it's shattered and bruised And now the laugh's on me Anyone want a heart that's barely used?

We continue to transition between the two as they both take on the final chorus together. They both put all of their anguish and frustration into the song, their vocals even more powerful and heart wrenching when harmonised.

INT. GUILDHALL SCHOOL - REHEARSAL ROOM - DAY

We end on Chai, breathing heavily after the final belt. For a moment the room remains silent, the emotional performance having suddenly made the atmosphere heavy, but then the panel burst into applause.

Chai allows herself a small smile, but knows that it isn’t over yet -- both for her audition, and relationship with Isadora.

INT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - BANQUET HALL - DAY

Bridgette saunters over to Charlie by the food table, leaning close to speak in conspiratorial tones as she reaches for a carrot stick. Both of them are very aware that all eyes continue to drift towards them, but for once Charlie doesn’t seem afraid of the attention. In fact, in a weird way, he almost feels a sort of pride.

Bridgette: Am I correct in guessing you didn’t let mom in on your little plan to invite me to the party?

Charlie: I don’t know what you mean? Doesn’t she seem completely in the loop?

Bridgette: Mm mm mm mm mm. Blasphemous behavior, and on such a momentous day. What gave you such a dastardly idea, Charlie -- the devil himself?

All jokes aside, Bridgette admits that she’s glad he asked her to come. It’s nice to be with the sisters again, and the look on Eleanor’s face was worth it alone. But it was a pretty sharp change of pace from wanting everything to go “smoothly” -- what made him change his mind? Charlie smiles, shrugging nonchalantly.

Charlie: I can do my own thing now and then.

That doesn’t make much sense to Bridgette, but it’s Charlie. She’s not going to question it. She lightly pinches his side, enjoying the feeling of being co-conspirators again -- but she clams up when Ambrose approaches. He clears his throat, gently getting Charlie’s attention.

Ambrose: Think there might be a bit of a mix up with the guest list. Are you expecting someone else?

You mean, aside from resurrecting the long-lost sister? Charlie looks appropriately confused, following Ambrose’s nod towards the entrance where Eleanor seems to be debating with a wayward soul who she is desperately trying to gatekeep from the party. She’s already had enough trespassers for one reception, thank you very much!

When Charlie recognizes who she’s confronting, his jaw drops open slightly. Lucas?

He exchanges a look with Ambrose before making a beeline for the door, intercepting his mother before she tears a biblical new one into Lucas.

Charlie: Mom, mom, it’s cool. I know him. He’s -- he’s a friend from Adams.

Eleanor: Well, he isn’t on the guest list.

Lucas: I’m not much of a list person.

Charlie: Seriously, mom, it’s okay. I’ll take care of it.

Eleanor remains displeased, but she allows Charlie to take over. She flurries back over to her friends in a huff -- how many other ways could this go wrong? Charlie waits until she’s out of earshot, turning his gaze back to Lucas with a million questions.

Lucas, deadpan: She seems nice.

Charlie: What are you doing here? I mean, not that it’s a problem. Despite the indignation of my mom -- she’s having a rough day.

Lucas: Rest assured, I’m not here to gate crash. I’m in and out; I think if I hung around too long in this place I’d probably burst into flames.

You’re not the only one, Lucas. He continues, removing his hands from behind his back to reveal he’s holding an envelope.

Lucas: I’m just playing messenger.

Charlie raises his eyebrows, looking at Lucas in surprise as he takes the parcel. It’s decently-sized for an envelope, and his name is scrawled on the front in Riley’s familiar loopy handwriting.

When he opens it and pulls out the card inside, though, it’s much more than just a message from Riley. It’s a custom-made card -- with the artistic expertise of Dylan, Asher, and Jade behind the design -- and on the back and all along the inside, his A class peers have written him congratulations sentiments and signed it. Even the teachers contributed, a kind message from Jack, Eric, and Harper present on the inside flap.

And yes, even Zay. He’s found a way to keep it casual while still meaningful, depth behind the message concealed in plain sight amidst all the other well wishes and in spite of how weird things are between them at the moment.

Good job surviving. Wherever the hell you’re going after this, don’t forget where you belong… or whatever 1D would say.

Charlie laughs, a bit choked up. Sure, none of them could be there in person due to bad scheduling, but he was dead wrong if he thought they were going to let him celebrate alone -- least of all when Riley Matthews is involved. 

Charlie: This is great. Thanks for delivering. You can tell Riley it was well-received.

Lucas: My life’s work.

Charlie: Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I know my mom seems scary, but --

Lucas: Believe me, she is far from the scariest thing I’ve ever confronted. But I’ll pass. It’s taco night at the Orlandos, so I’ve got better places to be.

So with that, he’ll leave him be. Charlie thanks him again for bringing the card, letting his focus drift back to the gift once Lucas is gone. Then he lifts his gaze, something across the room catching his eye.

Ambrose has taken the spot he vacated, actually talking to Bridgette. It doesn’t look like the easiest conversation in the world, but it’s something, amicable communication for the first time in years. And if Ambrose is willing to open up the door for her, to give her a chance… well, who knows what he might hear out from Charlie, too.

Charlie can’t help but smile, hugging the card to his chest while he watches part of his family slowly rebuild.

INT. COVENT GARDEN - SHOPS - DAY

The A class are free to roam throughout the centre, Riley and Farkle taking some time to browse for souvenirs. Farkle hesitates when he spots something he’s sure Isadora would love -- an embroidered patch with something darkly silly, a perfect match for her aesthetic -- pointing it out to Riley. She agrees Isadora would like it, he should grab her and show her while they’re there.

Farkle: Well, I was thinking more like…

Farkle stops his own sentence. He was thinking what, that he’d get it for her? That he’d give her a gift for no reason, as if that’s something normal people do? As if he’s not continuing to kid himself, playing into these weird instincts with her when she has a girlfriend and only sees him as a friend?

Farkle: Never mind. I don’t know what I was thinking.

Riley commiserates, commenting that shopping for others can be tough no matter who it is. Like, she’s been keeping an eye out for something to get Lucas all trip so far, but nothing has jumped out to her.

Farkle: Is he that picky?

Riley: No, although that’s kind of the problem. He’s not really a gift person, because he never like… thinks he wants anything, so he’ll basically accept anything and be cool with it. But that makes him impossible to shop for, because there’s not really a clue as to where to begin.

Dylan and Asher chime in from the opposite side of a shelf.

Asher: Seriously, he’s awful.

Dylan: So true, bestie.

Riley: Besides, it’s not even necessarily him that’s the problem. It’s just like… there’s nothing good enough.

Farkle: I’m sure the artisans here will really appreciate that review on Yelp.

Riley: [ elbowing him ] Not like that. I just mean… nothing is going to convey what I want to say properly. [ softer ] No souvenir gift is going to capture how I feel about him. It’s too much.

Doesn’t help that her primary love language is physical touch, and he’s currently thousands of miles away. Sort of makes Farkle’s angst about Isadora feel trivial in comparison. He gives her an awkward pat on the shoulder, though he’s not going to be of any help to her gift dilemma.

Some jaunty, understated guitar floats in, echoing throughout the Garden…

EXT. COVENT GARDEN - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Step Inside Love” as performed by Cilla Black || Performed by Covent Street Performer

A new STREET PERFORMER has taken the limelight, gathering the attention of much of the wandering crowd. She’s blonde and spritely like Maya, only with a head of curls, but her vocals pack a serious punch. She’s animated and riveting, delivering a soulful rendition of the classic British tune and earning a decent chunk of change in tips in the meantime.

One of the people captivated by her performance is Maya, who stops wandering the stores to listen. Her eyes sparkle as she gets closer, sensing a kindred spirit in the brassy busker. And she’s impressed by how deftly she can hold a crowd -- the Garden breaks out into applause as she finishes her rendition, Maya an eager participant.

She makes a point of approaching when the crowd has mostly dispersed, launching into effusive praise. The street performer listens with mild interest as Maya… well, does her Maya thing, dramatically insisting upon their twin soul energies and lauding her ability to command a space with her stage presence. That, and she has such admiration for someone like her, out there busting her chops to follow the dream wherever it might take her. Starting from nothing, scrounging towards the goal. It’s inspiring, really.

At this, though, the street performer snorts, catching Maya by surprise.

Street Performer: Oh, fuck me. You think I’m some poor bastard, don’t you? Singing for pennies to earn my daily bread.

Maya: Oh, no. No, I just meant --

Street Performer: Love, I went to a conservatory. One of the top bleeding performing arts programs in the country, at that.

Maya, stunned: What?

Street Performer: That’s right. Class of 2015, in the flesh. Oh, and they promised us everything. Going to such an elite school, with such strong credentials, it was supposed to be a direct pipeline. That’s what they said, anyways. Straight to the West End! Well, look around us -- does this look like the West End to you?

Maya: … no. No, there must be a mistake. If you were to have graduated from a top program, then you wouldn’t be --

Street Performer: I did, and I am, love. Look right in front of you, see me with your eyes. And read my lips: it’s all a sham. I sing because it would kill my soul not to, but it’s a thankless time. Do yourself a favour, jump off this train before it runs off the tracks. Unless you want it to be you wiping your bum with your fancy university degree with nothing to show for it in five years time belting classics for spare change next to a little dog man!

Dog Man: Hey… woof. 

Street Performer: An absolute farce!

Whatever Maya was expecting from the networking moment, it sure as hell wasn’t that. She’s dumbstruck, completely bowled over by this unanticipated reality check -- and not even sure how to move past it. She’s rooted to the spot, the rest of the world continuing on around her as if she’s not even there.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack is working on the final details of his reapplication, all the pieces polished and ready to submit. Just a tweak here and there… but something about the process feels emptier now. Like he’s doing it, but somehow, his heart is no longer in it. It’s hard to see how that could’ve happened, when this place has been his whole entire world for so long.

But there are new paths stretching out in front of him now… if he chooses to follow them. He releases a sigh and leans back, surveying the office that he’s inhabited for so many years. It’s strange to think that he could be anywhere else… but it doesn’t feel impossible anymore.

At the moment, though, he’s sure of one thing -- there’s somewhere else he’d rather be right now. Struck with inspiration, Jack pulls his laptop closer, settling into new work.

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

Rosie and Charlie deposit the last of the graduation gifts on his bed for him to go through -- mainly envelopes, lots of money. Rosie scoffs as she sifts through them.

Rosie: I can’t believe this. People are basically paying you for getting through high school. This is such a double standard.

Charlie: What? How?

Rosie: Male privilege. Everyone just loves to hand you cash. You know what they’re going to give me when I graduate? Flowers. And like, probably gift cards to Pottery Barn.

Charlie: Hey, you can find some pretty neat things at a Pottery Barn if you look hard enough. And flowers are nice. I could go for some flowers.

Rosie: Of course you could. Nature boy. But flowers die in like a week, and I can’t buy movie tickets or eye shadow with $15 to Pottery Barn.

Charlie shakes his head, amused. Speaking of nature… the two of them meander their way out onto the balcony, opting for the pseudo-privacy and fresh air. After a full day of church community socializing, it’s nice to take in some quiet for a minute… until Rosie breaks it, surveying his room through the sliding door.

Rosie: Do you think I could swap the blinds on the door for drapes? I’m trying to decide how I’ll decorate once you’re gone and I take over your room.

Um, she thought! Charlie refutes this, claiming there’s no way she’s getting his room. He’s going to college, not military school, so he’ll still need a house to come back to every few months. And sorry, he’s not giving up his sacred balcony that easily.

Rosie: … so you’re planning on coming home? Or like to visit. At least sometimes?

Seems Rosie found an indirect way to ask the questions she really wants to know… Charlie realizes from the subtle nerves in her voice that this is the first time she’s had a sibling leave home since Bridgette. And she might be back now, in a surprise twist, but when she left the first time she really just left.

Charlie remembers how that felt. It would scare him too. He quietly assures her that he’s not planning on going anywhere for too long, and he’s never going to disappear out of her life.

Charlie: No matter where I am, or how long I’m there, you can always talk to me. You know that, right?

Rosie: … yeah. Yeah, I do. [ a beat ] I guess like… maybe I might miss you. Or something. Whatever.

No kidding… Rosie takes the chance to reiterate that Charlie can talk to her, too. About anything. She knows she’s the younger sibling and he’s like weird about taking pride in being the “role model” or whatever, but she’s getting older too. So if he wanted, he could talk to her about stuff. Like with Bridgette. And with him going off to college, there will probably be lots of new things to discuss.

She’s doing her best to tee him up… Charlie exhales a laugh, scratching his ear.

Charlie: Honestly, think there’s still plenty of stuff for us to discuss here.

Rosie: Like what? Daisy’s sudden career in climate change --

Charlie, quickly: That I’m gay.

Oh. Well there it is. Charlie obviously didn’t mean to stumble through it like that, to just spring it on her so haphazardly, but the instant he realized he was actually going to say it, it’s like it just slipped out. And the silence that follows doesn’t make it any less clunky, Charlie keeping his gaze anywhere but at her as he braces for potential rejection from one of the people he cares about most.

But Rosie isn’t going to reject him. In fact, she smiles instead, clearly pleased he finally said it.

Rosie: That’s nice.

Charlie: … you don’t sound surprised.

Rosie: I had my guesses. [ off his expression ] Charlie, you went with me to 1D concerts. You’ve never had a girlfriend. We’ve watched probably forty Riverdale makeout scenes together, and not once did you ever react to Cami Mendes or Lili Reinhart. The only time you ever reacted at all aside from getting all awkward was when I said KJ Apa looked good during a shirtless scene, and you agreed.

Charlie: I don’t even remember that --

Rosie: Also you’re like, the nicest boy I know, and I’m not just saying that because you’re my brother. In fact, the fact that you’re my brother and I’m still saying that shows how ridiculously nice you are. No straight boy is that nice. That was my main reasoning.

Well, damn. You think you’re covering all your bases… anyway, Rosie is just really, really glad he finally told her. That means a lot to her. And she promises, sincerely, that his truth is safe with her. He keeps her secrets and always protects her -- now it’s her turn to do the same.

And that’s clearly a relief to Charlie. His greatest fear was always that he’d fall from grace, that if she knew she’d no longer look up to him, but it seems like the opposite is true. He steps forward and pulls her into a hug, one that she happily reciprocates.

When they pull apart, she throws an “ew” out there, just for the sake of bratty sibling consistency. Charlie laughs and messes with her hair, telling her to ew herself. After a moment of silence, now that they’ve cleared things up, Rosie has a new topic she wants to unpack.

Rosie: So you had a boyfriend, right? Like a secret one.

Charlie: Um, what --

Rosie: Who was it? Charlie, tell me. I have to know now.

Charlie: No. No, mm mm, we’re not doing that.

Rosie: I have theories. Wait, just listen to my theories and tell me if I’m hot or cold.

Charlie: [ heading back into his room ] Nope. Not doing it.

Rosie: You need to tell me! I put research into this! I’m only asking you to hear out my potential suspects --

Charlie: La la la la la --

Rosie eagerly follows after him.

EXT. LONDON STREET - NIGHT

Audition over, Harper and Chai are on their way back to the hotel as evening falls. Chai excitedly talks about the course that she auditioned for and how student-focussed it is. Harper nods along, having already heard all of these earlier in the year when Chai was working on her application. 

Chai: You just don’t get this sort of stuff in America. You have to take so many different classes, you don’t get to just focus on your major. But here, they do specific courses. Honestly, there are degrees for everything under the sun. While I was researching I saw one for stand-up comedy. 

Harper: Not sure how I’d feel if I knew John Mulaney had a degree in comedy. Gives a totally different spin on the college bit he does. 

They change topic to London, Chai reminiscing on her time here as an exchange student and mentioning how excited she’ll be to come back if they accept her. 

Harper: I hate to dampen the mood, and I know you have your heart set on this place, but have you seriously thought about what moving here would mean? 

Chai: What do you mean?

Harper: You wouldn’t be moving here as a high school student. You’d be an adult. That means finding your own housing after freshman year, getting a job, building an entire new network when you already have one in New York. It’s not all red buses and hot accents, Chai. You’re entering the real world, with nobody to help you out. It’ll be damn hard. That’s not to say you shouldn’t do it, I fully believe you can. But you should really think about what studying here will be like.

Chai hadn’t really thought about it from that perspective before. Everyone she knows is in New York. Her entire support system is in New York. Would she be able to hack it on her own on a whole other continent?

But then again, does she really want to stay in New York for people who can cast her aside so easily? Her parents barely noticed she was gone during the exchange programme, and the way things are with Isadora right now… there’s not much tying her to the states. 

Noticing Chai’s now uncertain mood, Harper tries to lift her spirits by asking her if she’s excited for the rest of the trip. This does perk her up, but the questions surrounding her future are still strong in the forefront of her mind.

EXT. LONDON HOTEL - PATIO - NIGHT

Zay has stationed himself on the patio of the hotel restaurant, offering him a decent view of the city as the evening descends into night. Farkle peers out from inside the building and spots him, coming over to join him.

Farkle: Rooming with me and Maya truly that bad? You don’t have to hide out, you know. You could just ask us to cool it.

Zay: You know that joke doesn’t land when you know damn well telling you two to chill would do fuck all. Since when have you ever listened to me?

Farkle: Touché.

Zay: But no, amazingly, not every choice I make is about you. I’m just getting my fix of the nightlife before curfew. Based on how Eric cracked down on Nigel and Jade, I’m not trying to incur his chillingly supportive wrath.

Farkle: Understandable. Especially Eric’s unique brand of scary. Mind if I join?

Zay gestures blasély to the chair next to him, Farkle taking it. He asks Zay, now that he’s observed it so much, how he’d rank London.

Zay: Well, it’s no New York City, but it has its charms.

Farkle: Loyalist, I see.

Zay: NYC is a hellish pit, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. What can I say, it’s home.

True enough. They settle into silence for a few moments longer, Farkle actually lasting an impressively long time for his usual standard, before he breaks it again.

Farkle: I was hoping to ask you something.

Zay: Just when I thought you might actually manage a peaceful moment.

Farkle: Hey, I was quiet. For like, thirty seconds. And you should know me better than that at this point.

Zay: Unfortunately, I do. [ with a sigh ] Go on.

Farkle: Now that Maya’s told you about the business card… what would you do? If you were in my position?

Zay: I hope you realize that you stumbling into this opportunity, having a bona fide connection to the industry fall into your lap based solely on your talent and potential, and then saying fuck it and throwing it all away would be the most privileged white people shit ever. You do realise that, right?

Farkle: Yes, I’m aware of the potential optics.

Zay: Okay, good. Just checking. Otherwise… I mean, I guess the bigger question is why wouldn’t you? Go after it?

Farkle: Why wouldn’t I?

Zay: Yeah. Like I said, this is the kind of thing basically everyone at Adams would kill to have in their pocket coming out of graduation. And you appreciate that, obviously, if you’re seriously considering it. So that just leaves the question of why not? What’s making you hesitate?

Farkle contemplates the question, not sure he wants to face it. Because it means being vulnerable, and he’s never been especially good at that.

Farkle: I suppose it’s just like… it’s kind of what you said. New York is home. You know? And I know that’s part of what college is all about, leaving the nest and all that, but… I like the way things are here. I like… [ searching for the words ] I know the city. I know the culture, I know the people. I love the people. Everybody I love is in New York.

Zay knows that feeling. He nods.

Farkle: And for a long time… the friends I have now are everything to me. I know what it’s like to have nothing, to have no one in your corner. I don’t ever want to go back to that. I’m just worried that… if I go away, if I put those aside to pursue this thing that might not even pan out… it’s not worth the trade. I know now that it’s not an even trade. And I’m so good at accidentally fucking everything up… [ timid ] I don’t want to risk chasing the dream somewhere unknown if it means losing my team.

Given Farkle’s history, Zay can see how this concern is particularly gripping for him. And the root of his fear is something all of them are feeling -- everything is about to change in a few weeks, they’re all going to go their separate ways, and there’s no way to know that these friendships will hold. Especially if they go in such different directions.

Still, can’t put your life on hold to cling to the way things are.

Zay: I get what you mean. I had my diva phase this year, you saw it, so you know I know what I’m talking about. I get how chasing after one thing can feel like you’re neglecting the other, that this stupid art kind of makes us so crazy that we push everyone else away in the pursuit of it. I think it’s a valid worry.

Farkle: Yeah?

Zay: Yes. But I don’t think that means you shouldn’t do it. I think you just have to find your balance -- which you should be good at now, considering how much damage control you’ve already had to do.

Farkle: Fair point.

Zay: As for the distance… look, I’m not gonna act like I’m some kind of expert. I’ve been in the same place my whole life. I’m not planning to go far if everything goes as planned, least for now. And being away from people you care about sucks, no matter how big or small the space between you. But… sometimes it’s necessary. Sometimes it’s for the better, getting some separation from the way things are.

Farkle: Really? You think so?

Zay: Yeah. I didn’t always, trust me, but it’s like… sometimes I guess it’s like you get stuck, and the only way to get past it and continue to grow is to step back. Branch out on your own, see who you are without that crutch. And the thing is, man, if someone is really your friend, they’d want you to do that. If we’re all just trying to find the best version of ourselves, and someone cares about you, then they’d want that for you too.

Farkle: Huh...

Zay: I don’t know what I’m saying, okay, I’m just talking out of my ass here. I’m not Riley, I don’t have the perfect advice. But I just think that… there’s no guarantee that going somewhere different, leaving the life you have right now, is going to irreparably damage everything. Especially if you’re doing it for a good reason, like pursuing your passion. And if your friends are true friends, they’ll push you towards that goal rather than pulling you back. If someone really loves you, they’ll want to see you at your best. They’ll set you free… and if it all works out, and you come back stronger for it, then even better.

Took Zay a lot of struggle on his own to reach that conclusion, but it seems like he’s pretty sure of it. And Farkle evidently appreciates the honesty, absorbing the sentiments and trying to figure out what that means for him.

Zay: I don’t know if that helps. Like I said, I’m just talking.

Farkle: No, no, you’re -- it does. Thanks, Zay. [ off his nod ] You know, you’re part of it. That team I don’t want to fuck up.

That’s sweet. A little weird, since they don’t really do the whole sentimental thing with each other, but it’s clear it means something to Zay. He clears his throat.

Zay: Well, don’t worry about hopping to LA, then. Your fun facts and trivia are going to kill this thing way before long distance ever would.

It’s true, distance makes no difference on whether he’s annoying or not. Farkle laughs, raising his hands in surrender. Then he grants Zay what he’s been asking for this whole time -- some actual quiet, leaving him be after thanking him again for the help.

Zay settles back in his chair, leisurely rotating his left ankle to keep it loose. Although he’s finally starting to wean off the habit, given how useless reception has been, he pulls his phone from his pocket and nonchalantly checks it anyway. Not expecting much.

So it’s a major shock to discover he has a notification in his email -- from Turner Academy. Even just from the message preview on his lock screen, he can see what it says.

Your portal status has been updated.

Zay jolts upright, cursing to himself. Heart suddenly pounding, his hands shake as he unlocks his phone and pulls up his web browser to log into the portal. He needs the wi-fi to hold together just long enough for him to look… but then he hesitates. Does he want to know? Is he ready to know? Is he prepared to face the consequences of whatever he finds out?

The hesitation only lasts a second. Yes, he’s ready -- he’s been ready. He’s ready for the torture to be over, to have closure either way. He clicks into the portal and selects the dropdown menu for application status, which has a notification bubble indicating it’s been updated.

It takes eons to load with the shitty internet. Zay holds his breath, watching the wheel in the center of the screen spin.

Then it loads. Zay takes a couple of seconds to read… and his expression shifts not to elation or devastation, but confusion. He reads the message again, then over again, even refreshing the page to make sure he’s not getting an error.

But the status displayed remains the same.

Additional Action Required. Please call the admissions office to learn about your admission status.

It takes a few more moments for that to properly sink in. Then Zay frowns.

Zay: What the everloving fuck --

EXT. LONDON HOTEL - DIVA ROOM - BALCONY - NIGHT

Maya is taking in the same scenery on the tiny balcony outside their room, though her expression is far more melancholy. She’s lost in thought, not even noticing when Farkle returns to the room.

He pokes his head out and greets her, leaning back against the doorframe. He asks if she’s okay, as she’s been uncharacteristically demure since they left Covent Garden. She brushes off his concern, claiming she’s just absorbing the spirit of the city before they go waste the next few days out in the middle of nowhere.

Farkle: I wouldn’t call Stratford or Liverpool the middle of nowhere.

Maya: To each their own.

She delivers it with her usual melodramatic snark, but Farkle is right that there’s a muted quality to it. The easy confidence isn’t quite as sharp as it usually is, and a seasoned veteran of Maya Hart can tell the difference.

Still, she assures him that she’s fine, so he lets it be. He suggests she not stay out photosynthesizing too long -- they’ve got an early start tomorrow as they head out of the city. She nods him along, waving off his concerns.

Farkle: By the way, I am seriously considering my choices. I’m going to give the LA opportunity all the thought it deserves. I promise.

Maya, delicately: I know. I know you are.

Farkle steps back inside, gently cracking the balcony door behind him. Maya watches him disappear into the bathroom nook, waiting until she’s alone again to let the facade crumble. She turns to face the city twinkling around her, confidence zapped entirely. It’s clear the words of the Garden performer really hit her, that they’re taking a toll she didn’t anticipate anything could.

Even with the best performing education money -- or scholarship -- can buy, could it still all be for nothing? Is it even worth it? And even more terrifying, is the dream even accessible at all, or is she destined to discover that she’s wasted the best years of her life chasing a passion that she’ll never be able to catch -- even with all the talent, drive, and preparation she can muster?

Could everything she believes in actually be totally, utterly empty?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Where Is Love?” as performed by Oliver! London Palladium Cast || Performed by Maya Hart (starting at 2:25)

Acting as a reprise of sorts, Maya eases into her own rendition of the West End classic by singing through the final verse and chorus. But it’s a meek performance, timid in a way Maya never is, real fear and uncertainty cracking the notes in her delivery.

Becoming a star has been her driving force for as long as she can remember. If the dream isn’t real, then where is love?

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

It seems a day trip to Albany and gate-crashing a graduation party are the fires that forge friendship, because Charlie and Lucas are hanging out again. They’re not doing much, Charlie writing thank you notes at the counter while Lucas goofs off during another slow shift, but they’re choosing to occupy the same space while they do, which is certainly not nothing.

That, and they seem remarkably at ease around one another for having only just really started talking. At least enough to do silly, dumb shit that boys find entertaining -- Lucas has built a catapult out of silverware, assuring Charlie that he’s got many hours of food-flinging expertise under his belt and he’s about to see a champion in action. This is very important, complicated Chubbies work at play. Then he picks a fry off Charlie’s half-finished plate and loads the catapult spoon with it, pausing for dramatic effect.

Lucas: Ready… ready… 3, 2 --

He hits the base of the spoon and sends the fry flying into the air, easily managing to catch it in his mouth. An expert champion indeed, clearly of very important matters. Charlie gives him a round of applause, Lucas holding his arms out in victory and giving a pseudo-bow.

Charlie: Wow. I see why they pay you the big bucks.

Lucas: Damn straight.

Lucas just starts to load the catapult up again when Jack pushes into the diner, spotting him and marching over. He seems a bit frazzled, a man on a mission, but there’s an excitement charging his movements. An almost youthful glow about him, eyes twinkling with a mischief you’d never see when he’s in the halls of Adams.

Lucas: Jack? What are you doing --

Jack: Good, you’re here. I was hoping you would be. [ noticing Charlie ] Oh, hi, Mister Gardner. You’re here too. That’s nice.

Charlie: Um, hi, Principal Hunter.

Lucas: Everything okay? You seem a little --

Jack: You want to go to London?

That stops Lucas in his tracks. His eyebrows shoot up, completely caught off guard.

Lucas: What?

Jack: I’m going to London. You want to come to London? Because if you want to go, we can go. I’m going.

Charlie, uncertain: Maybe I should go...

Jack: Oh, Charlie, you can come too. I’ve got an extra ticket. I was going to invite Shawn, but… you know, you’d actually probably appreciate it more.

Charlie: I -- um -- ?

Lucas, bluntly: Are you on crack?

He sure seems high on something all right. But no, Jack Hunter is one-hundred percent sober, and one-hundred percent serious. He’s cruising on the freedom of new beginnings, and he just might take the two of them along for the ride. 

Charlie: Principal Hunter, sir, I’m --

Jack: You can call me Jack, you know. You’re not my student anymore.

Charlie: … right. Well, Princi -- Jack -- you just said it. I don’t go to Adams anymore.

Jack: Yeah, well, you don’t go to Haverford anymore either, do you? So you’re not really anything, technically. And you know we had you for three years, which is more than enough in my book.

Lucas: I can’t go on the trip. I don’t have the money, remember?

Jack: As if most of your peers aren’t on the trip on their parents’ dime. And I’m here with a spare ticket -- it’s not a matter of “can” you, it’s a matter of “will” you. Obviously, no one has to go if they don’t want to, but that’s exactly my question.

A question that completely turned their worlds upside down. It’s truly crazy, how things can change in the blink of an eye -- one moment you’re wandering Los Angeles, you’re participating in a student protest, you’re signing thank-you cards and catapulting French fries, and in the next an opportunity comes knocking that could change everything.

The question is, do you answer the door? Do you take the leap?

Jack: So? Are we going, or what?

Charlie stares at Jack, dumbstruck, then shifts his gaze to Lucas. Are they? Lucas contemplates the offer… then he locks eyes with Jack.

The subtlest of smiles sneaks onto his face.

TO BE CONTINUED.

END OF EPISODE.

[zen3to5]

J/H 6-19: Squeeze Box

Episode order continues to shift; "Squeeze Box" is now 6-19.

FF.Net AO3

***

SHOW TITLE   INT. THEATER – DAY   A date at the movies. With a slight crowd before and behind them, ERIC and DONNA slide down an empty middle aisle, into the middle seats. Donna carries a bag of popcorn.   DONNA: You know, before we decided not to have sex –   ERIC: You decided. I'm ready.   DONNA: Right, I decided - movies were just a dark place to fool around before we went home and did it, but now we can really watch the movie. Isn't that great?   ERIC: It's fabulous. I mean, there's nothing I hate more than the feeling that I'm about to have sex.   In the aisle behind them, a blonde – let’s call her SLURPEE – slides down, stops when she sees Eric.   SLURPEE: Hi!   Eric turns around, sees her.   ERIC: Hi. Hey. Hi!   SLURPEE: (beat) Okay!   She continues on her way.   DONNA: (to Eric) Isn't that the girl who sells slurpees? Why’s she saying "hi" to you?   ERIC: I don't know. It's weird. I've never talked to her before. I mean, maybe one time I said, "you're out of spoon straws," but that's it.   The lights dim. The film begins. Donna, attentive to the screen, begins munching on popcorn; Eric mopes.   ERIC (v.o.): (thoughts) Great. Now I have to sit through Kramer vs. Kramer again with no shot at nookie. First time we saw it, I said, "you know, dads can be good parents, too," and Donna's shirt just floated off.   DONNA (v.o.): (thoughts) What is wrong with me? A boy's gonna lose his mother, and all I can think about is fooling around. I am such a dirty girl. I should be spanked. Ooh, stop it!   ERIC (v.o.): (thoughts) Screw it. Sneak attack is my only hope. I'm gonna go with the yawn and grab. Watch out for my hand, pretty mamma, 'cause I'm not really tired.   Eric fakes a yawn and reaches a hand around the back of Donna’s seat.   DONNA (v.o.): (thoughts) Oh, God. It’s the yawn and grab. How do I stop it?   As Eric’s hand reaches down for a squeeze, Donna tips the tub of popcorn over. Popcorn spills all over Eric’s lap.   DONNA: Oops! Oh, sorry.   ERIC: Oh, come on. It's okay.   He brushes off most of the popcorn and turns back to the movie.   ERIC (v.o.): (thoughts) Great. Now my lap's covered in hot buttered popcorn. That's the most action I've gotten in weeks.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – DAY   A sunny day. A lazy day. HYDE reads a newspaper as he eats a sandwich at the kitchen table while RED rummages through the fridge. KITTY enters through the patio door.   KITTY: Well, it’s official: Pam’s moving in with Bob. You know, I can’t believe that woman. She’s forcing poor Fez and Michael to carry in box after box loaded with her clothes and undergarments. I don’t even think she’s paying them.   HYDE: No, but I’m pretty sure they’ll help themselves to a few souvenirs.   Kitty shrugs, exits into the living room. Red, beer in hand, crosses to the kitchen table and sits.   RED: You know, I bet you, with all the new crap that’s gonna be cluttering up that house, this is just the excuse Bob needs to “forget” where he put that toolkit I loaned him last week.   HYDE: Why don’t you just go get it now?   RED: I could do that... but why should I when I have you?   HYDE: But I don’t want to go get it.   RED: And I don’t want people your age in my house. But you are your age, and this is my house.   He gives Hyde an ugly grin.   CUT TO:   INT. HALLWAY – DAY   The upstairs hall of the Pinciotti home. BOB, boxes in hand, strolls down one end of the hall just as Hyde comes around the other.   HYDE: Hey, Bob. Red sent me to get his toolkit.   BOB: Oh, sure thing, Steven. (nods to nearest door) Middle shelf on the bedroom bookcase.   He continues on his way. Hyde steps up, opens the door, and is greeted by the sight of PAM, topless. She turns around and smiles at him.   PAM: Hi, Steven.   Hyde’s hand falls off the doorknob. His jaw goes slack. As if in a trance, he turns around and moves as quickly as he can the way he came.

MAIN CREDITS   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – DAY   Moments later. Red is back on his feet, preparing a sandwich for himself at the island. Hyde throws the patio door open and slides back into the kitchen. He pulls the door shut, locks it, sits back down at the kitchen table, and looks anywhere but the door as his fingers drum along the table’s edge.   RED: (looks up) So, where’re my tools?   HYDE: Not there.   His eyes settle on the far end of the table. His finger tapping grows faster. Red starts to take notice of Hyde’s nerves.   RED: Not there?   HYDE: Nope. Not there.   RED: They’ve gotta be over there. I know I lent them to Bob. Now you get back over there. I want my tools, dammit!   HYDE: (quickly) Well, think about it, Red. “Your” tools. “Lending” them to Bob. What is the concept of ownership, anyway? Isn’t it all just part of the corrupt capitalist system keeping us down?   RED: What the hell’s the matter with you? I’ve never seen you this twitchy. You’ve been spending too much time with Eric.   He shoves his sandwich aside, crosses to the patio door.   RED (cont’d): Fine. I’ll get the damn things myself.   He unlocks the door and heads outside.   CUT TO:   INT. PINCIOTTI BEDROOM – DAY   The master bedroom of the Pinciotti home. Pam is still walking around topless as the door opens and Red takes a step inside. He freezes the second his eyes spy Pam. She turns and smiles at him.   PAM: Hi, Red.   Red’s hand falls off the doorknob. His jaw goes slack. As if in a trance, he turns around and moves as quickly as he can the way he came.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – DAY   Red throws the patio door open and slides back into the kitchen. He pulls the door shut, locks it, sits back down at the kitchen table across from Hyde, and looks anywhere but the door as his fingers drum along the table’s edge.   HYDE: You saw ‘em too, didn’t you?   RED: (beat) What the hell is wrong with that house? Open marriages, nudist parties, and now Bob’s sending people into his room without warning while the town lush struts around, exhibiting herself!   HYDE: What do we do about this?   RED: What’s there to do? We didn’t ask for that! As far as I’m concerned, it never happened. We don’t speak of it again, and we don’t say a word to anyone.   HYDE: Maybe that works for you. I just got flashed by Jackie’s mom. I can’t keep that from her. She’s gonna know something happened. She’s like a bloodhound who can sniff out whenever I do anything wrong. Things are still heavy with her and Pam. She’s not gonna like this.   RED: Oh, and Kitty will? Because she’ll find out about two seconds after you tell your loudmouth girlfriend. You just remember this, pal – if I go down from this, I’m taking you with me. And when I take people down, they stay down. Just ask North Korea.   He looks down at the table, scowling. Hyde starts tapping the table edge again.   HYDE: She say “hi” to you, too?   Red rolls his eyes; he still wants to drop it. But Hyde presses on:   HYDE (cont’d): What is that, a come-on?   RED: What woman comes on to their teenage daughter’s boyfriend?   HYDE: I know, right? I mean – I’ve been hit on by older women before, and it was great. Made me feel all naughty. But with this, I just want to reach into my brain and cut out the whole memory of the last ten minutes of my life. It’s not fun anymore.   RED: Well, Steven, that’s what love does – it makes things not fun anymore. Enjoy it.   He turns away again as Hyde’s head twitches this way and that.   BUMPER   MUSIC NOTE: “Can’t Find Love” by Earth, Wind and Fire.   INT. DONNA’S BEDROOM – DAY   The aftermath of the movies. Donna sits at her writing desk, her back to her open door. Her foot taps relentlessly as she talks on the phone.   DONNA: Look, Jackie, Eric and I came really close to doing it, and I am so jacked up on hormones, I feel like I could jump the first guy I see.   As she says this, MITCH comes up the hall and into her doorway, a peach cobbler in hand. He strolls into the room, sets the cobbler down on Donna’s desk, and leans over her shoulder.   MITCH: Then look my way, pretty lady.   Donna jumps slightly; she didn’t notice him come in. She sets the phone down and stands over Mitch.   DONNA: Okay, Mitch, you know I love having you around 'cause you say really nice things about me.   MITCH: Like how the sun pales in radiance to the beauty of your smile?   DONNA: Yeah, like that.   MITCH: Yeah.   DONNA: But I have to talk to Jackie, and it's girl stuff.   She takes Mitch by the arm and pulls him to the door.   MITCH: Oh, you're so strong. You make me feel like Jessica Lange in King Kong.   Donna gives him a shove out into the hall and throws the door shut after him.   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY   The next day. Just the boys, but not the usual line-up of boys: FEZ sits in Hyde’s chair, Eric and Mitch share the couch, and KELSO sits in the lawn chair. Eric has a half-finished X-Wing Fighter model in his hands, the open box for it on the coffee table. Eric works on the model with a tool as he talks.   ERIC: You know why Darth Vader went to the dark side? He was dating a redhead who wouldn't put out.   FEZ: So you are like Darth Vader in the sense that you're not getting any, but you are not like Darth Vader in the sense that you are weak and strike fear in no one.   Eric nods, gives Fez the thumbs’ up.   ERIC: Well, this is certainly one way to spend an afternoon.   KELSO: You know, I never really got into making models. Guess I was too busy having sex.   He stands, crosses to the deep freeze.   FEZ: (to Kelso) Hey, I don't have sex, and I still don't build models. I don't have a single model or a single girl. My life is an empty hole.   Mitch looks over Eric’s work so far.   MITCH: Hey, nice job. You put the force field generators on backwards. One photon torpedo, and you're space toast.   He laughs and looks to Fez and Kelso to join in; they just stare.   The basement door flies open and Donna races inside.   DONNA: Okay, Eric, that's it. I think we should have sex.   Eric grins, sets down the X-Wing.   ERIC: Yes!   MITCH: No!   Eric glares at Mitch, but before he can say anything, Donna pulls him to his feet.   DONNA: Okay, I'm going crazy not being with you. You may not be a strong man, but you read my body like braille.   She smiles, and Eric gives her a slight laugh. They take a step in towards each other when:   KELSO: Burn!   They both turn and glare at him.   KELSO (cont’d): Wait. What's braille?   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – DAY   Concurrent with the previous scene. Hyde sits alone on the couch, watching TV. His arms are folded tight and he shifts uncomfortably.   The front door opens, and in walks JACKIE. She smiles when she sees Hyde, moves to sit next to him.   JACKIE: Hey.   HYDE: It was an accident!   His yelp causes her to recoil slightly in her seat.   JACKIE: What?   HYDE: What?   JACKIE: What?   HYDE: What?   JACKIE: Steven, I’ve never seen you this tense. (beams, hugs him) It’s wonderful!   HYDE: It is?   JACKIE: Steven, if I learned anything useful from my mom, it’s that if your man’s not tense when you walk into the room, that means you’re doing something wrong.   She rubs his bare sleeve, pouts her lips at him.   HYDE: Uh... yeah, that’s right. I’m tense because of you. ‘Cause you’re... too pretty.   JACKIE: Aww...   She pecks his cheek. He wipes it on his shoulder, and she massages the spot she pecked.   JACKIE (cont’d): You know, if we can slip down to the basement - I’m early for dinner and I decided to give going braless a try.   Hyde jolts in his seat, edging away from Jackie.   JACKIE (cont’d): (confused) Steven!   HYDE: Well, does it always gotta be about boobs with you? Damn, woman!   Jackie scoffs, “excuse me?” Hyde can’t take the pressure of her stare. He jumps off the couch and retreats into Red’s study. Jackie looks to the TV and throws up her hands, “what was THAT about?”   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT - EVENING   Later in the day. Donna has taken Hyde’s chair, with Mitch hovering behind her. Kelso leans on the dryer. Fez and Eric share the couch, with Eric having finished his X-Wing model.   ERIC: Okay, the tractor beam is operational. Don't get too close!   MITCH: (to Donna) You really gonna shine your love light on that?   DONNA: Well, he's a different person between the sheets. What can I say?   KELSO: Hey, guys, tomorrow I have this police test on interrogation techniques. I was wondering if I could practice on somebody.   DONNA: Sure, I’ll help you.   KELSO: Nah, it’s my first time. I’m gonna need someone much more spineless than you. (to Eric) All right, Mr. Forman - if that is indeed your real name - what did you do on the day of today?   ERIC: (gangster voice) You'll never get it out of me, copper. I'm no rat!   Kelso rips the X-Wing model out of Eric’s hands and hurls it at the coffee table. It shatters into pieces.   ERIC (cont’d): Kelso, what the hell?   KELSO: Oh, just relax, Eric. I'm just doing “good cop, bad cop.” That was the bad cop, but he's gone now. See, now good cop is here to take care of you.   He sits down on the couch arm, puts a hand on Eric’s shoulder.   KELSO (cont’d): Hey, how you doin', buddy? It's a real shame about what happened to your model. Why don't you tell me what you did today?   ERIC: I came home from the restaurant and spent six hours building that model!   MITCH: Uh, excuse me. I'm sorry to interrupt, but what about your encounter at the store with the girl who sells slurpees?   Donna’s attention snaps to Eric, and Eric and Kelso’s snap to Mitch.   DONNA & KELSO: What?   MITCH: (to Eric) Yeah, you remember. She asked why you never call her anymore. You were like...   Mitch pulls a dumb face and shrugs. Kelso “oohs” and takes a few steps back from Eric – he doesn’t want to be in range of potential fire.   DONNA: (to Eric) Wait. Is that the girl from the movies?   KELSO: Donna, I'm asking the questions here. (to Eric) Was that the girl from the movies?   DONNA: (to Eric) What happened to, "I barely know her"?   KELSO: (to Eric) What happened to, "I barely know her"?   DONNA: Why were you calling her, Eric?   KELSO: Why were you calling her, Eric?   ERIC: Kelso, will you shut up?   KELSO: Oh, yeah, it's getting hot in here, isn't it?   He gets right up in Eric’s face. Eric pushes him back by the face, turns to Donna.   ERIC: Look, Donna... maybe I kinda know her. Maybe we kinda went out a couple times when you were dating Kelso's brother.   DONNA: (stands) Wait, so, the other day at the movies, you lied to me?   KELSO: Donna, I am the senior officer here. (to Eric) So the other day at the movies, you lied to me?   ERIC: (to Donna) No, I... you know, I mean, it was the movies, you know? It's all make-believe.   DONNA: Okay, you know what? Don't bother coming over tonight. My sexual tension has been replaced with another familiar emotion: anger at your scrawny ass!   Eric sighs, closes his eyes. Mitch, behind Donna’s back, pumps a fist before reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder.   MITCH: I'm just glad I could help the truth be told.   DONNA: Yeah, at least someone's being honest around here.   With a last glare at Eric, she storms up the stairs.   Mitch looks to Eric, with a grin that would make the Grinch green(er) with envy.   ERIC: Mitch, what the hell?   MITCH: What? I thought you came off looking great. Oh, wait - that was me.   He grins again and follows Donna up the stairs.   BUMPER   MUSIC NOTE: “Double Vision” by Foreigner.   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – EVENING   Dinner preparations are underway. Red and Hyde sit at the table, and Jackie sits on the island, watching as Kitty puts the finishing touches on a tray of roast chicken.   KITTY: Jackie, are you sure you want to be here for a dinner welcoming your mom to the neighborhood?   JACKIE: Well, she made things up with Bob and she’s trying to sort out her priorities, so I think she’s earned it. That, and I don’t trust the hotel food when Steven’s not in the kitchen. I saw one of the other chefs – he has an eyepatch. I’m worried he’s got a talking parrot somewhere he’s gonna get mad at, pluck, and try to pass off as quail.   KITTY: You know, I’m worried I didn’t get enough chicken. These breasts look so small.   Hyde and Red both flinch at the word “breasts.”   Red glares at Hyde.   RED: (hushed) Not a word.   The patio door opens up. Bob and Pam enter, Pam bearing a bottle of Kahlua and a low-cut top.   BOB: Hey there, hi there, ho there.   PAM:  (to Hyde & Red) Hi, boys.   They both silently moan and look down at the table, even as Bob and Pam move into the room and take positions where Pam’s breasts are right above Hyde’s head. His face starts twitching.   PAM: Oh, Kitty, every time I come to this house I’m amazed by how much you’ve done with so little.   Kitty doesn’t acknowledge that. Bob takes the bottle of Kahlua, sets it on the island.   BOB: (to Kitty) Here. Pam wanted to get you cookies, but I know how much you like the sauce.   KITTY: Uh-huh. (to Red) Do these breasts look big enough?   Red flinches again, recoils in his seat.   RED: I’m not comfortable with that question.   KITTY: What?   RED: What?   KITTY: What?   RED: What?   Hyde’s fingers start drumming along the table edge again. Jackie hops off the island and crosses to him.   JACKIE: Steven, what is wrong with you?   KITTY: (to Red) What is wrong with you?   RED:  There is nothing wrong with –   HYDE: WE SAW PAM’S RACK!   All eyes are on him. Red is furious, Bob mildly surprised, Pam sympathetic, and Kitty and Jackie stunned.   HYDE: (beat) So – this is what it’s like, being Forman.   He puts a hand over his shades under the continued combined stairs of the others.   FADE TO BLACK   COMMERCIAL   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – EVENING   Right where we left off. Jackie still glares at him, but some of the pressure is off Hyde – Kitty is now glowering at Red, who gives her his full attention.   KITTY: You saw Pam’s... Pam’s...   She gestures towards Pam’s body, ending by indicating her breasts. She takes note of Pam’s top.   KITTY (cont’d): Well, they’re halfway out already, so why don’t we just throw them out for everyone to see?   BOB: It was the day she moved in.   All eyes flicker to Bob.   BOB (cont’d): Yeah, Pammy told me. At first, I thought I should be mad, but then I thought, “hey, I sent ‘em in there, and it’s a great view.”   He looks to Pam, who smiles, shrugs, and nods.   PAM: (to Hyde, Red) And don’t feel bad, you guys. This isn’t the first time my body has caused a fight. One time, I caused a riot on a topless beach in Venezuela. Imagine what you saw, only all tanned and oiled.   Red and Hyde both put their hands over their faces.   JACKIE: Okay, Mom? Maybe now’s not the best time to talk about what a sensation your looks made while you were drinking your way through Latin America – where apparently, they don’t believe in locking the door! (to Hyde) And I can’t believe you saw my mother naked and didn’t tell me about it right away!   HYDE: (points to Red) He told me not to!   Red’s jaw drops as he glares at Hyde, “how could you?”   HYDE (cont’d): Yeah. You thought this was North Korea? We’re in Vietnam, man! Game over!   They stare each other down from across the table, even as their women still glare at them. Bob and Pam stand a few feet back, watching with amusement.   BUMPER   SPLIT SCREEN: INT. DONNA’S BEDROOM/INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – NIGHT   In Donna’s room, she and Jackie sit on the bed together. In the basement, Eric and Hyde sit on the couch together. Hyde has SCHATZI in his arms and scratches his head throughout the scene.   ERIC: Man, Donna is so pissed at me.   DONNA: I am so pissed at Eric. I can’t believe he lied to me about that girl. I mean, we’re getting married. I should know everything about him.   ERIC: But, I mean, we’re already getting married. Do we have to know everything about each other?   DONNA: If I have to know that he wore a bathing suit in the tub until he was 12 – (sees Jackie’s expression) Yeah, tell everybody – I should know who he dated.   ERIC: Donna playing “anteater” in her backyard, eating bugs until she was nine? Was perfectly happy not knowing that, thank you very much.   JACKIE & HYDE: God, will you shut up? Maybe other people have relationship problems too.   ERIC: Oh, I’m sorry, Hyde. Is something wrong?   DONNA: What the hell’s with you?   JACKIE/HYDE: Steven saw my mother topless./I saw Pam topless.   DONNA: Oh, God.   ERIC: All right!   He holds his hand up for a high five, which Hyde doesn’t return. Donna puts an arm around Jackie’s shoulders.   JACKIE: And the worst part is, he tried to keep it from me! He’s my boyfriend. Any time he sees another woman’s boobs, he’s supposed to say something.   HYDE: The worst part is, it was the finest rack I’ve ever seen. And that includes nudie flicks and Playboy centerfolds. And I’d still take back ever seeing it so I didn’t upset Jackie.   ERIC: Yeah. I’d really like to break my record for not upsetting Donna by making it past one week.   DONNA: Speaking of naked sluts, you don’t think Eric and that girl...   Mitch leans into frame in Donna’s room.   MITCH: Made sweet, emotional love? Yes, I do.   Eric reaches over to scratch Schatzi’s ears, but Schatzi barks and nips at his fingers, and Eric quickly recoils.   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – NIGHT   The aftermath of dinner. Kitty, terse and sharp in her movements, packs up the chicken for refrigerating. Red is still at the kitchen table, looking pleadingly up at her.   RED: Kitty, I said I was sorry. All I did was open the door, and there she was! Was I supposed to rip the eyes out of my head?   Kitty slams the wrapped chicken down on the stovetop and turns to Red.   KITTY: Oh, shut up, Red! I can’t even stand to look at you!   RED: And yet you do. Because your eyes work? You see my problem?   Kitty’s frown deepens. She puts her hands on her hips.   KITTY: You don’t even know why I’m upset, do you?   RED: Of course I do! (beat) But why should I deprive you of one of your favorite pastimes – telling me why you’re upset?   KITTY: Red, I know you’re not a peeping tom. And, good lord, that woman’s always one Jell-O shot from giving it away. I mean, I’ve never even seen a freaking panty line on her! But I’m upset that you went out of your way not to tell me about this, and that you made Steven do the same thing to Jackie.   RED: (stands) But Kitty, the only reason I didn’t tell you was because I didn’t want you to be upset!   KITTY: Well, that sure backfired, didn’t it?   Red runs a hand down his face. He takes a step in to Kitty.   RED: Look, Kitty, I’m sorry.   KITTY: (beat) I know.   She steps in, pulls his head down so she can kiss his cheek.   KITTY (cont’d): So – how’s she look?   Red recoils.   RED: I’m not comfortable with that question.   KITTY: Oh, come on, Red. Pam talks herself up all the time – how does the show measure up?   She playfully pokes at Red’s sides. He dodges, moves around her. Kitty stays right behind him, poking at his sides and smacking his butt. Laughing, she chases him out of the kitchen, over all his grunting protests.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – NIGHT   Eric, Hyde, and Schatzi are still on the couch. They’ve been joined by Kelso, in Hyde’s chair, and Fez, in the lawn chair.   KELSO: (to Hyde) Completely naked?   Hyde sighs; he’s done talking about this.   HYDE: (warning) Yes.   Kelso, mouth gaping, looks to Fez, who wears the same expression.   FEZ: Oh, if only we had stayed around after moving in her panties.   The basement door opens. Donna and Jackie storm in, Mitch following after with a nasty smirk.   DONNA: Okay, Eric, there's something I need to know. Did you or did you not do it with the slurpee slut?   ERIC: (stands) What?   MITCH: (to Donna) Oop! He answered a question with a question. That means he's guilty. Now let's ditch him and carry me out of here.   ERIC: Donna, I did not sleep with her.   DONNA: Well, you lied to me about her before, so why should I believe you now?   ERIC: You don't believe me? Fine. Let me show you what I was doing while you were with Casey.   He climbs over the couch and disappears into Hyde’s room.   Jackie moves to stand behind the couch, just to Hyde’s right, and glares down at him.   JACKIE: Hey, Steven, the next time Eric steps out with the slurpee slut, maybe you should tag along. You might get another free show out of it!   FEZ: (to Hyde) You wouldn’t even need Eric. I’ve bought many a slurpee from her, and from what I can tell, she’ll do it with anyone.   HYDE: Did she do it with you?   FEZ: No, she has way too much self-respect for that.   Eric returns, a box in hand. It is overflowing with Star Wars models.   ERIC: Okay, Donna. This is a box full of models that I made while you were with Casey Kelso.   Mitch pokes around inside the box.   MITCH: Look at this. TIE Fighters, assault vehicles, and troop transports. All with minor defects in workmanship. (points to Eric) Yeah, he made these, all right.   DONNA: (to Eric) So this is what you did when we were apart? (smiles) Oh, my horny nerd boy.   JACKIE: Aww... that’s like Steven looking after Schatzi when we were broken up. Except watching a dog is caring and sensitive, whereas Eric’s models are geeky and pathetic.   Eric and Donna both glare at her. She shrugs, sits on the back of the couch, and reaches down to pet Schatzi.   Eric sets the box down.   ERIC: Donna, there's a reason I didn't tell you about her. She wasn't important. The whole time we broke up, you know... you know I never stopped loving you.   DONNA: Eric...   She takes him in her arms, and they kiss.   ERIC: So, can I suggest that we honor the age-old tradition of making up after a fight, not just spiritually, but physically?   DONNA: How about a brand-spanking new tradition where I buy you a milkshake and a Playboy?   ERIC: Donna, whoa. I'm insulted. I do not need a milkshake. Let's go.   Hand in hand, they exit out the door.   MITCH: What, so they're back together and everything's fine? That sucks.   He exits out the door too.   Hyde twists around in his seat to look up at Jackie.   HYDE: Hey, sorry about the thing with your mom. I wanted to tell you before, but Red got all freaked.   Jackie sighs, slides over the back of the couch to sit next to Hyde.   JACKIE: Well, it’s not your fault. Mom just doesn’t care who sees her. She used to walk around our house topless all the time.   Kelso and Fez both stand.   KELSO: That’s it. We gotta get over to Bob’s.   They both race up the stairs.   Hyde sets Schatzi down on the coffee table. Jackie leans over to pet him, even as Hyde leans into her.   HYDE: You still giving the braless thing a try?   Jackie looks up at him, raises her eyebrows.   HYDE (cont’d): Hey, I’m fine with things being all about boobs as long as they’re yours.   Jackie smiles, “awws,” and gives him a quick kiss.   JACKIE: But what did you learn from all this?   HYDE: That, if he’s only worried about Mrs. Forman, you can totally get away with burning Red.   Jackie tries to pout at him, but a smile breaks through. Hyde just grins and scratches under Schatzi’s chin.   FADE TO BLACK   CREDITS   INT. HALLWAY – NIGHT   The Pinciotti house. Kelso and Fez creep up to the bedroom door on their tiptoes. Each bears a massive grin, and each titters in anticipation.   KELSO: Ready?   Fez nods eagerly. Kelso grabs the door handle, throws the door open... and reveals the sight of a stark-naked Bob, toweling himself off.   He turns around, sees the boys, smiles, and shrugs.   BOB: Oopsie doosie.   Fez and Kelso throw their arms around each other and hold each other tight as they scream for their lives, unable to look away.   END.

[50prxxf]

     MAYBE HE DIDN’T REALIZE HIS feelings for the other -- at least not to their fullest. all he knew was that he enjoyed their company and he didn’t want to let them go. they were always there for him and helped him through a lot int heir time together and he finally started to realize that he wanted to do the same for them. put them above himself sometimes, be there for them, make them smile. “you call me at midnight saying you’re upset and can’t sleep and don’t expect me to show up at your door? come on, you know me better than that,” he speaks softly with a light chuckle. reaching over and lightly brushing his finger’s through their hair, he squeezes through the open door and into their apartment. 

open to : any inspired by : eric nam’s how’m i doing -- “i’m trying to be the man you need, i’m trying to keep you next to me. i’m trying to be the one you can, the one you reach for -- anything at all.”

[thirstyhscwriter]

My Lord Part 7 II Eric/OC II Medieval AU

the whole story,  Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 and Part 6

It’s been a while since I posted this story so make sure you check out the previous part above. I wanted something a little more smutty to balance out the more slow-burn fics I’ve been working on. Enjoy. As always feedback or any communication is appreciated! Happy New Years to you all!

Something had changed. She was comfortable in a way she had never been before. She did not feel as if she needed to prove herself, to her men, to her husband, or to the world. She was the head of this army, and she deserved it. Their contract last night had not been their official marriage, but it was the one that mattered to her. The vows he made were ones she trusted him to keep, and ones she intended to keep in return, could keep. She would not submit or serve, but she would ride by his side, no matter what lay ahead.

Of course, what lay ahead was empty stomachs and restless nights. Their detours had greatly hurt their recourses. The visit to the Nelson’s had not ended the way she had hoped, and whilst she had gained a husband from it, she had lost an opportunity to gain much-needed rations. Now they were weeks out from the next point where they could rally for support.

She could end this all in an instant, two days ride and it would be over. Doing so would take, however, a sacrifice she was not certain she could afford to make. “My Lady?” The page had evidently been trying to get her attention for a while. Both he and Eric were looking at her with concern.

They were all crowded around maps, tracing the next part of her journey. Trying to calculate how they could make such little food stretch across so many men. “Apologies, I was lost in thought. What is wrong?” Her hot eyes met Eric’s own, an all too clear sign of exactly where her mind had drifted. He held her gaze easily, a promise in his own. They had been away from each other’s beds too long. All day small touches, heavy looks, had communicated exactly what each had planned for the other as soon as they were alone. As with all things, however, the more she craved the moment they could retire together the longer it seemed to take. “I think you should come with me, My Lady, there has been an incident.”

They arrived at the food carts to find a terrible scene. One of Eric’s men, she recognized him from his strange armor, was on his knees, Tobias stood behind him, sword at his neck. “This man was caught stealing rations.” Tobias seemed to spit as he spoke, disgust clear in the way he looked down upon the hedge knight.

“I was hungry.” Defiance was written all over the knight’s face as he met her gaze, “Your bitch has not been feeding us, so I took what I needed.” Normally such as insult would have caused a reaction from Tobias, but he did not so much as flinch.

“We are all hungry. That is why we ration our foods.” Explaining would do no good. This man was not loyal, that was why he stole, he did not care if the army survived or perished, he only cared about filling his own pockets.

“Shall I kill him” Tobias carried a darkness she had never seen on him before, he would not meet her eyes. “No. He came with Eric, Eric shall decide what to do with him.” Rage flashed across Tobias’s face at the suggestion, but he stepped down, all the same, offering the man to Eric. Eric looked around, evidently unsure what to do with his new power. He was her right hand now, she needed him to learn how to take control. “Leave. Now. I do not want to see your face in this force again.” He spoke calmly, but she could hear the pain in his voice. “You wish to only look out for yourself, you have your wish. Get out of our site.” The knight paused, measuring them all up before he stood, “Follow your bitch then. She will get you all killed.” With that he fled, disappearing int. o the night.

“You are stupid.” Tobias was staring at her with pure rage, lip curled as if he could not stand the sight of her. “He will be back, to steal more of our food. Food we cannot afford to lose.” “If he is, we will catch him, and we will handle it.” Eric was calm, although she could hear the doubt in his voice. “She can speak for herself. Or do you make all of her decisions now?” “Tobias. You insult my husband you insult me.” She snapped, shocked by this outburst. She had never seen similar from him before. “Good. You have been acting ridiculously since he arrived. He brings disloyal men who eat food we cannot spare, spreading resources we cannot afford, all so you can have fun with him. He is a distraction, and you have allowed yourself to lose sight of everything for him. I have never thought of you as a weak woman. Now, however, I know you cannot resist your nature.

Eric was on him in a moment, hand on his throat, lifting him in the air. “I may be new to this army, but I know one thing for sure. She is your leader. Do not disrespect her. She is ten times the warrior you are and you know it.” He dropped him, sneering down at him, “Leave and cool off. You are drunk. Come back when you have something to say that is actually worthy of her time.”

They all but fell into her tent, lips hot on each other’s, desperately pulling at other, she had not felt like this before, so content to open herself up to him. This was no game, she wanted him, every part of him, as deep inside of her as he could get. She wanted to mold his body into her own. “The way you took control there.” She told him in-between kisses, pulling at the laces of his breeches, “I have never found it so hard to keep my hands off of you.”

He growled, spinning her around so her back was flush against his front, “What of you princess? All but undressing me in front of your men?” He was alternating between whispering in her ear and pulling at the laces of her clothes, his hands were not as skilled as her own, fingers big and clumsy in his haste. He soon proved how little he needed nimble fingers, however, choosing instead to tear at her blouse, revealing her breasts to his hands, “I thought you would have me there and then in front of them all.”

He seemed to have decided tearing was a much more convenient way to get to what he wanted, and she had no intention of arguing. Within moments he had torn her breaches from her body, leaving her completely exposed to him, his overgrown beard scratching her skin, no doubt leaving a rash across much of her neck, marking her as his own. “Perhaps I should have,” hands reaching back to tangle in his hair she pressed his face deeper into her neck, encouraging him to bite and pull at the skin there. “Show them your place: beneath my thighs.”

She could feel him pressing hard into her thigh, his hands dropped, one to free himself, the other to her hips, bending her in half as if she weighed nothing. She happily submitted, delighted by the access to her body this new position gave him. “You need a man.” He told her, teasing her as he danced around her entrance, refusing to push forwards, leaving her mewing for his full touch. “a real man to give you the strength you crave.”

Oh, how right he was. And no one was as strong as Eric. No one was strong in the same way he was, so self-assured, prepared to fight for what he wanted, fight for those he loved. Of course, she had her own strength. A strength he knew all too well. He should not have been surprised when she drove herself backwards, trapping him hard and deep within her. The cry he let out as they connected was deep and visceral, as he lifted her body back up to lie flush against his own.

He knew what he needed, felt her body as if were an extension of his own, the two of them driving together, finding an erratic rhythm, that left both of them crying for air, fighting to regain the upper hand.

“Tell me who you are.” He growled, lips capturing her own in a breathless, desperate kiss. “Tell me what you are.” “I’m your wife.” She said, hands soft, stroking her face, even as her body was not.

They lay, immobile, completely content in each other’s arms.

“You know I will always support you.” He whispered, laying a light kiss on the nape of her neck. “But Tobias has a point. Continue as we are and more men will suffer, more will steal and defect. We need a solution.”

“I have one.” She had always known it would come to this, even as she tried to avoid it. “It’s time for you to meet my father.”

[thecreaturecodex]

Slithering Tongue

Image by Eric Lofgren, © Kenzer and Co.

Slithering Tongue This hideous thing is a massive disembodied tongue the size of a wagon.

The sundered remains of a dead god, the slithering tongues are abominable undead that mindlessly consume all in their path. According to legend, the original slithering tongues spawned from the corpse of a deity slain and consumed by daemon kind. They retain no divinity but are an affront to even evil gods, and their very presence can cancel divine magic. The only creatures that view them as allies are the enemies of the gods—creatures like asuras, daemons and titans—and even they keep these monsters at arm’s length.

Slithering tongues are blind and sense the world through taste and vibrations. They slowly carve grooves into the dusty plains of Abaddon, attracted to the movement of souls and fiends. As daemons are immune to acid, some enjoy being “scrubbed” by a slithering tongue, but the tongue’s crushing strength and ability to release gouts of negative energy make this a dangerous proposition. Slithering tongues are unceasingly aggressive, and usually fight until slain.

Slithering Tongue       CR 14 XP 38,400 NE Huge undead (extraplanar) Init +6; Senses blindsight 60 ft., Perception +16, tremorsense 100 ft. Aura anathema (30 ft.) Defense AC 29, touch 15, flat-footed 27 (-2 size, +2 Dex, +5 profane, +14 natural) hp 199 (19d8+114); fast healing 3 Fort +11, Ref +10, Will +15 Immune acid, gaze attacks, undead traits, visual illusions and effects DR 10/good and slashing; Defensive Abilities profane shroud, channel resistance +4 Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee slam +22 (4d6+15/19-20 plus 2d6 acid plus grab) Space 15 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks breath weapon (60 ft. line, 14d6 negative energy, DC 24), constrict (4d6+15 plus 2d6 acid), corrosion Statistics Str 30, Dex 15, Con -, Int 1, Wis 19, Cha 20 Base Atk +14; CMB +26 (+30 grab); CMD 38 (cannot be tripped) Feats Combat Reflexes, Cleave, Improved Critical (slam), Improved Initiative, Improved Vital Strike, Lightning Reflexes, Power Attack, Skill Focus (Stealth), Toughness, Vital Strike Skills Perception +16, Stealth +13 Languages Abyssal (cannot speak) Ecology Environment any land or underground (Abaddon) Organization solitary Treasure none Special Abilities Acid (Ex) A slithering tongue secretes a digestive acid that dissolves organic material and metal quickly, but does not affect stone. Each time a creature suffers damage from a slithering tongue’s acid, its clothing and armor take the same amount of damage from the acid. A DC 24 Reflex save prevents damage to clothing and armor. A metal or wooden weapon that strikes a slithering tongue takes 2d6 acid damage unless the weapon's wielder succeeds on a DC 24 Reflex save. If a slithering tongue remains in contact with a wooden or metal object for 1 full round, it inflicts 24 points of acid damage (no save) to the object. The save DCs are Charisma based. Anathema Aura (Su) A slithering tongue’s presence can cancel divine magic. Anyone attempting to cast a divine spell within 30 feet of a slithering tongue must succeed a DC 25 caster level check or the spell is canceled, as if it had been counter-spelled. Effects that aid a caster in overcoming spell resistance, such as the Spell Penetration feat, improve the caster level check imposed by the anathema aura. Corrosion (Ex) An opponent that is being constricted by a slithering tongue suffers a –4 penalty on Reflex saves made to resist acid damage applying to clothing and armor. Profane Shroud (Su) A slithering tongue gains a profane bonus to its Armor Class equal to its Charisma modifier.