#was the transition really that jarring or did I just not catch the beginning of that sentence?

[toerrishumansodontbeone]

newest method of sharpening my german: watching absolutely unhinged interviews with jeremy fragnance on ytb

[sincelastsession]

Joshua that number I left for my past EMDR therapist is the only way I've gotten in touch with her. I did request my records, she said she'd send them. They weren't delivered ever. I really really do want to get my files from her I am entitled to a copy via state law. It contains a fuck ton about me that I really feel will help because the sheer amount of traumas to bring up again is going to jar me trying to list em out. I feel like it'll definitely assist you on my treatment plan greatly because we did A LOT.

I assume that there's a place files of this nature are supposed to go?

I assume you would know who to call to help me secure them? Or perhaps we could find out. Even if you don't want to use them...I would very much like a copy of her files on me.

I can sign paperwork for you next session for you to get my files if I haven't and idk who else you'd like to talk to or option to chat with other than psychiatrist and primary care but I'll sign documents with them.

I think she still has a profile on psychology today and email...but the text number I left has been my only way to catch her...

I don't want to be nasty but if she can't produce my files I will call a lawyer. Because yes they'll be great for therapy but I asked a while back.

I'm going to send an image of your card to her and request she leave a voice-mail or talk to Chelsea so we can get that done.

It's just BOTHERING me.

I do understand your treatment style us very different.

Also fuck Robyn. I got so much "feedback" to say about her. She takes literal young men and women who are struggling and honestly I see those patients struggling more with thier gender identity and transitioning. I don't think she's safe for LGBTQA+ folks. That's imo something that should be between a psychiatrist and endo foremost before hitting therapy. Like ive spoken to mine about it and we have different views but now that I have I can open up abt that. Like she invited a client to her home. I feel she pushed a bi male into transitioning and imo the trans ppl I know are happy and she doesn't seem happy now at all. She told me to break up with my now ex and treated me like a liar and literally sessions with her felt like interrogation and SUPER judgy and she was VERY FAKE with my parents who were ofc putting on a show for her.

I cannot begin to explain how well my parents are at manipulating therapists and turning it into everything being on me and as soon as I say something in response or try to blow their cover it's WILD because the one thing they don't realize they do is thier facial expressions. They'll either over mask or forget to do it. They always trip up.

Mom likes to play victim and very clueless kind. Dad does this in a different manner, he's subject to get pissed and walk out or raise his voice unless he's gonna act right because you're not a woman.

The weirdest part of having been raised by these people. The way I've studied them since childhood to please them. They adapt and use therapy against me. They don't remember what they've said or done. They seem put out by me telling them "hey what you did was fuckin wrong and yeah I've brought it up before and you shut down and we never settled it" then they'll be like "you just love to hold grudges" etc... but it's not that. I'd like to process it all or what I can. The reason it comes up over and over is because it's not going into memories to be forgotten in my brain. It's just hanging out in the fuckin trauma bay. Like a packed ER.

I am open to whatever type of family therapy is beneficial. Often times my dad is nasty to my mom when she's calling or texting about me. I don't think she deserves any bullshit if she's just relaying a message.

Like they got divorced and still fight like idiot assholes.

She left and I had a fucked up back and was a stoner and kept to myself because my father treated me like a partner to abuse and daughter to control and there's a ton of emotional incest. Dad also talks to young ppl online and what I saw years ago looked like grooming behavior and poor pity me with women of age I hope but still younger than me. Probably because many older men try to influence young women and never emotionally mature correctly and actually accept their age. I remember him on dating sites complaining about how ugly certain women were whose profiles imo were quite lovely and impressive. He acts sorta like an incel.

My sister you'll probably see straight through. She's an actress.

I do want to see with a few sessions if it may be possible to salvage anything with any of them.

What's upsetting is that though I have a poor sense of self...they don't really know me or seem to want to know me.

My psychiatrist thinks it's due to me not being healthy and also that I'm not married and doing the "normal" thing so there's resentment.

Since NONE of them listen to anything I have to say because they're all under the impression I'm trying to control them based on well nothing other than I'm gonna guess THE PAST.

They think I'm frantic. They haven't really read anything about what I deal with. They don't listen to listen. They listen to reply and they cherry pick and twist things I say to mean things they don't.

I don't know how to have a conversation with any of them without them exploding. My dad and mom have literally put me on speaker and walked off and my sister idfk last time I tried to speak to her she was FADED and I hung up.

They all have excuses.

It hurts that they won't accept and educate themselves like my friends do. It's not hard.

I fear they are both VERY mentally unwell and I'd really like to hear what you think.

I do have audio I keep forgetting to show you. I feel it's important and it will give you an idea of what a "light" encounter with them both while having a fucked up back and asking for help because I couldn't do laundry on my own sounds like. I recorded it because it'd already been happening that day and they do the narccistic tornado and I wanted to make sure my words weren't twisted more.

I wish I had more recorded. It's wild.

I'm concerned my dad is fucking with Piper's head but she's already a shitshow (I love my sister but I'm gonna fuss about her crap still)

I feel like I'm playing Squid Games and talking to any of them is a test.

My dad has told me to kill myself and to die and he's left me alone in the hospital after relieving my mom where I was then abused and left in a waiting room with a dead phone and no way to go pee for HOURS because my back was out.

We almost sued OLOL for the maltreatment.

This is not the first time I've been left alone in a hospital and abused.

People think I'm a hypochondriac but I just have a special interest in medical. I grew up in medical environments. Knowing as much as I can retain has kept me safe from further misdiagnosis and malpractice bullshit. I wish I could actually just gent sent to a mayo clinic or idk one of the big hospitals where they use diagnosticians and run you through the gambit.

I know it's not a thing unless ppl are very sick. I mean it was traumatic as a child to be put in NIH testing for a Dermatomyositis study. I don't remember meeting other kids. I just met Ted Kennedy one day while I was playing waiting on another test. It was scary being like 8 and seeing secret service fill a room and guard a door so he could have a photo with me. He did talk to me a ton and I really don't remember what he said. My parents were thrilled and I'm sure there's a cat piss stained picture somewhere.

Did you know that my sister and dad just threw a ton of my things away and donated or tossed most of my books. I had a massive bookshelf. Now it's covered with things that are mine and shit my sister used to make her room aesthetic without asking me.

It has always been hard to go home and get anything from her. I really just want to take everything that was or is mine. Things I gave her and things she stole.

I don't think she realizes I have 2yrs to file a report on the assault and I could take her to court for emotional distress too and probably more.

I've never gotten justice for any of the things that have happened to me.

I wish I could just send all thier asses to prison but they wouldn't survive.

They all think I won't do anything. That's been taunted at me.

They have no clue. They have no clue what they created and they have no clue what goes on in my head.

Sometimes I think that there's something supernatural at play.

I believe in those sorts of things. I don't talk about it much enthusiastically because ofc people like to shit on it.

I know most of the things that haven't been proven by science will eventually be.

I know that also it does exist. Our govt wouldn't have done studies to use ppl with ability for war purposes.

I know a lot of cold reading is fueled by trauma. I don't like to cold read. I think people who sell cold reads etc are just very good at telling others what they want to hear...or they're so desperate they will truly take advice.

When I read things come through and there's this process. It's mind's eye where pictures and words come through. Then I just ask about what I see or deliver whatever messages. I was pushed out of a group that was threatened by my reading. They were threatened because they are frauds. If a message doesn't make sense for someone then I tell them to just take what makes sense. It's often like a crowded room when I read for people. It's been a while since I tried beyond simple shit. I've scared the crap out of friends holding thier hand and reading them. Because they never told me about the people I relayed messages. I didn't just guess. I opened myself up to it and flooded in.

Sometimes I want to get Reiki certification so I can just do that for ppl. I was told by a master that I was a natural energy worker. I was told by native shamans that I was a gatekeeper. My grandmothers had thier little superstitious practices.

This is the part you'll probably want to ask more about if I haven't talked abt it. I've exorcized a demonic or spiritual entity out of a person before. There's no way to prove it. I know what I saw and heard. I wasn't high.

It makes me wonder how many cases are actually supernatural and how many are actually just mental illness.

Also it's been driving me insane Joshua but I know you somehow outside of therapy. I do wonder if we've just been at the same place at the same time more than once and that's why I remember your face or if we have many mutual ppl. This is a big city small town so who knows. I hope it doesn't fuck up th Or you have a doppelganger 🤷🏻‍♀️

Idk.

I think one reason ppl think me and Travis would be a pair is because he's just a really kind good person. This extends beyond me and to others he knows. His family really is picturesque. They are excellent people. He will make someone incredibly happy one day. I am really bothered by people passing him over. He's actually looking for a therapist. I wouldn't be bothered if any of my friends saw you as a patient. The whole "oh no we can't do therapy with people you know" thing imo is silly. People in this state all know each other to the point it's just goofy.

My partner called me all excited that he didn't have to work overnight. He called because he was going out and felt bad that he wouldn't get to chat with me and had planned on doing so and had been excited to do so. He actually said "I Love you" more than once and I told him to go have fun. Saying I Love you is difficult for him sometimes. Am I sad I'm not getting to talk to him? Yes. Am I happy he got out of a stressful work night to enjoy time with his buddies or other partner? Yes, why wouldn't I be? I do get sad that I can't be there but it's still better than half the mfers that are just overgrown fuckbois etc that don't even have the emotional maturity to call.

I'm gonna go smoke out, do smol bit of laundry in my travel laundry bucket thing, eat decent food, stay up to an asinine hour, and play Sims4.

Hopefully no dumb bullshit occurs.

I cannot and I'm not the one this evening.

Goodnight

[avengers-x-reader]

admittance

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

description: bucky has been having nightmares recently. all you want to do is help him, but it’s hard when he denies the fact that he’s having these nightmares in the first place. 

word count: 1.8k

warnings: brief language, mentions of nightmares & violence, some angst i guess??

a/n: this is set before the events of TFATWS - bucky is speaking to a therapist, but the events with the flag smashers and all that jazz have not yet occurred. 

Does he really think I don’t know what he’s doing? you think to yourself as you make your way through the apartment you shared with Bucky. The clock on the oven shows a bright green “3:28am,” and you sigh with the realization of how little sleep you’d been getting recently. You know that Bucky’s been getting even less sleep, though, and the thought makes your heart clench in pity. 

Well, maybe pity isn’t the right word. Pity gives a connotation of weakness and sorrow on behalf of the weak. You knew for a fact that Bucky Barnes was not weak. After everything he’s gone through in his life, and after everything he’s done to try and make amends with the people he’s hurt, you considered him to be the strongest person you’ve ever met. However, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadness and compassion over your boyfriend’s struggle to sleep as he forced himself to come face-to-face with the acts of violence he’d committed in his past. 

For the past few weeks, Bucky had been transitioning to sleeping on the living room floor whenever he was kept awake due to nightmares. He never flat-out admitted that nightmares were the cause of his sleepless nights, but after putting together the puzzle pieces of his sweat-soaked sheets, his tossing and turning, and his reluctance to talk about why he’d been sneaking out of your room most nights, you were able to figure it out for yourself. 

You pass the island in the kitchen and smile sadly when you see Bucky sleeping, curled up on floor just as you’d suspected he’d be. At least he’s getting some sleep, you think, but this relief is short-lived and it disappears when he begins to thrash around. 

“Honey?” you call out softly, not wanting to startle him awake. You know that Bucky is a bit disoriented when he first wakes up, especially after he’s had a nightmare, and you don’t want to make his transition to the real world any more jarring than it had to be for him. 

Your soft voice did nothing to wake him up or stop his thrashing, so you bend down to his level and try again. “Bucky, babe, please wake up.”

Your hand resting gently on his shoulder is what eventually does the trick. His eyes open harshly, and he sits up as he attempts to gasp for breath. 

“There you are,” you whisper with a smile, but tears start to build in your eyes as you think of how much pain Bucky must be in. He’s still trying to catch his breath as he looks frantically around the room before settling his gaze on you. 

“I’m sorry, doll,” he whispers, rubbing his eyes. “Did I wake you?”

You choose your words carefully. He didn’t know that you knew about his nightmares, and you didn’t want to ask him about them if he wasn’t ready to talk about them. “Not at all. I got thirsty and came out for a drink, and wanted to know what you were doing on the floor all by yourself.” 

Bucky gives a short, unamused laugh and shakes his head before replying, “I just couldn’t sleep.” 

“Got it,” you nod. Your hand has been rubbing slow circles on his back in an attempt to slow down his breathing, and slowly but surely, his breaths have been calming down as you sat next to each other. “You’ve been sleeping out here a lot recently,” you continue softly. 

“Well what do you want me to do about that?” he asks louder than you’d been talking before. He pushes himself to his feet and begins pacing the room. “I come out here so that I don’t wake you up and you’re mad. If I stayed in our room and kept you awake with me, I’m sure you’d be mad then, too. So what would you like for me to do?”

You didn’t reply for a good minute or so. You stare at him for a while, trying to figure out where this sudden outburst was coming from. You didn’t take it personally, but you still didn’t appreciate him lashing out on you when you were just trying to understand what was going on in his head. Finally, you reply, “I just want to be there for you.” This causes Bucky to stop his pacing and stare at you, but you continue, “I know you’ve been having nightmares, and I know you’re trying to keep me in the dark about them, but I don’t know why.”

“I-I’m not-” Bucky tries to interrupt, but you cut him off. “Yes, you are. I can tell. Now you don’t have to talk to me about them if you don’t want to, and you don’t even have to come back to our room to sleep at night if being with me is causing more of an issue, but don’t sit here and lie to my face about something as obvious as this. It’s insulting.” 

You recognize that you’re being a bit harsh, but you wanted to get through to Bucky that you know about his nightmares, and you want to help him through them as much as you could - however you could. 

Bucky walks towards where you’re still sitting on the floor and holds his hands out as an invitation to help you stand. You accept, grunting a bit as you’re pulled swiftly to your feet. He says nothing as he keeps your hand in his and leads the two of you back to the bedroom. Your confusion must be showing on your face, because he looks back at you and says softly, “It’s not you that’s the issue.” 

“Then what is?” you ask, still allowing Bucky to lead you to the bed. The two of you lay down under the covers as you await his response. “James,” you continue with a just-as-quiet, but sterner tone of voice. 

Bucky bites his lip and looks away with a sad smile. “It’s me,” he says simply. “I’m the issue,” he carries on before you can ask any questions. 

“That’s the biggest pile of bull shit I’ve heard in my entire life,” you scoff, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s body. He usually feels so much bigger than you, but in this moment, he may as well be half your size. He folds in on himself, and you can tell from the way his shoulders are shaking that he’s crying. 

“I’m trying to make amends,” he begins to explain through his tears. “I’m trying to act better, do better, be a better person, but it’s so hard when I’m reminded over and over again about how fucked up I used to be.” 

“You’re doing your best,” you try to comfort him, but this seems to just make things worse as he turns away from you and shakes his head. 

“Then I must be a pretty terrible person,” Bucky says dryly, “because apparently even my best isn’t good enough.”

Your heart sinks. Did someone tell him he wasn’t good enough? You know he’s been working with Dr. Raynor on making amends...she’s always seemed a bit harsh, from what Bucky’s told you about her. Did she say something about him not trying hard enough?

“Who told you that?” you finally ask. 

“Nobody had to tell me. I just know,” he replies, keeping his back turned away from you. 

You consider how you should respond for a few minutes. You don’t want to let him sit in this self-deprecating mindset, but you also know that you won’t be able to convince him otherwise when he’s so convinced already that he’s not doing enough to make amends. Finally, you say, “Bucky, look at me.”

He makes no effort to turn around and face you, so you say, “James Buchanan Barnes, turn your handsome face around and look at me.” He eventually complies and his lips are turned slightly upward into a smile, but his eyes are still glossy. “You can’t fix everything all at once,” you go on to say. “I know you want to be able to, and I know it’s hard knowing how many amends you need to make and the mental energy it takes to make these amends, but you have to stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”

“But if I don’t put this pressure on myself, I may never get it all done,” Bucky argues, squeezing his eyes shut and keeping them closed for a few moments. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

Your heart clenches, and you sigh heavily. “You’re right,” you admit. “I don’t know what it’s like. But that’s why I want you to talk to me about how you’re feeling, and admit when you need help, because otherwise I’m in the dark here. And you know I’m scared of the dark,” you smile sadly. 

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, but when he finally does, it says it with the clearest tone you’ve heard from him all night. “I love you so much.”

Aaaaand here come the waterworks, you think to yourself. “Oh honey, I love you too,” you reply, holding him tightly so that he couldn’t see the way tears had immediately sprung into your eyes. “I just want to help. I’m sorry if I’m being pushy or invasive, I just don’t want you suffering alone with these nightmares and this pressure of being ‘good enough’.”

“I know,” Bucky says. “You’re not being invasive...you’re being a good girlfriend and a good person. That’s part of what I love about you so much - your selflessness and your intense need to just...help people.”

You nod into his chest, hoping your tears weren’t dampening his bare skin. “Just let me know how I can help you. I’ll do anything.”

Bucky thinks on this for a moment before saying, “You’re right, ya’ know...about the nightmares. That’s what’s been keeping me awake these past few weeks...and I know that you know you’re right, I just feel like I have to admit it to you so that I can try and move on from them myself.” 

You pull away from his chest, not caring anymore if he could see you crying. He knows you well enough at this point to probably assume you were crying, anyways. “Whatever you need to admit out loud...whatever you need to talk about. I’m here,” you assert with a strong voice. “I’m here,” you repeat quieter, moving your hand up to cup his cheek. 

“You’re here,” Bucky whispers with a smile, nuzzling into your palm. His eyes flutter shut, and you hope he’s attempting to get some more sleep. 

You aren’t naive enough to think that you can get rid of Bucky’s nightmares, but you and him both know that you’ll be there to talk them through with him when they occur next time - whenever that may be.  

thank you for reading - i hope you enjoyed!! requests are open and welcome :)

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Flame of a Candle

A/N:  The wonderful @lupins-sweater requested a Remus fic where the reader has a candle addiction and let me tell you, I fell in love. Also, two fics in one night! Apologies to my taglist, but I couldn't stop writing and I had to post it. I will be getting to my other requests this week as well as finishing my Draco Malfoy series. As always, I hope you enjoy, it’s pure fluff! Also, the candle scents I mention are real candle scents from the ones I have in my room (they’re all inspired by books!).

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of food.

Word count: 1.8k

It was not your fault.

It absolutely was not your fault that the newest shop on the high street was an independent candle store.

And it wasn’t your fault that instead of entering the bakery like you had planned, you walked into the candle shop.

It also wasn’t your fault that you left the shop with a bag full of candles.

You made it to the bakery though, grabbing everything on your list. Bread, teacakes, vanilla slices for Remus. The visit to the new candle shop, simply a small stop on the way.

You would usually make this trip with Remus; his hand gripping yours tightly as you peeked in the windows of all the shops. But you left him bed in this time, snoring away, completely oblivious to the world. This past full moon had been exceptionally rough; he came back with larger cuts and bruises that had you silently crying as you patched him up. It never did get any easier to see the added injuries after a full moon.

The day is beginning to brighten as you return to the home you shared with Remus. The garden path lined with pansies and marigolds, adding a cheery disposition to the ivy-covered cottage you called home.

Remus would be soon awake, so you head to the kitchen to put his vanilla slices in the fridge before adding your new candles to the ever-growing collection that had slowly filled three cupboards with differing size jars and tins.

Your placing the final glass jar candle in the cupboard when you hear his footsteps creaking on the stairs and his raspy voice calling out.

“Darling, what are you doing?” Remus questions; his voice still gravelly with sleep.

It had been a week since the last full moon, and he was still catching up with missed hours. He was awoke once as he reached out for you in his sleep and found your side of the bed empty; it worried him for a minute but then he realised that you would be in town so sleep quickly overtook him again. He stirred back awake to the sound of the closing cupboard door; his senses still sensitive after the change, hearing and smelling everything within a small distance.

The hesitation before your answer has his curiosity piqued as he steps into the kitchen to see you closing a cupboard door.

“Nothing, dear!” Your voice chimes.

He chuckles, “You really are the worst liar.”

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know that I am an excellent liar – so good in fact that MI6 are thinking of hiring me.”

“(Y/N), I love you, but yes, you’re the worst liar.”

“I’m hurt, Remus. Truly, deeply hurt.” You gasp, holding a hand to your heart.

“Stop deflecting,” He laughs, “What were you doing that’s so secretive?”

You fiddle with your fingers, “So I went into town to go the bakery,”

“Is that it?”

You shake your head, “Well I got somewhat waylaid on the way to the bakery.”

Remus raises an eyebrow, leaning against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms, “Now you’ve got my attention.”

“There’s a new shop that’s opened on the high street; what used to be the bridal shop.”

“Put me out of my misery – what type of shop is it?”

“A candle shop.”

A slow smile breaks over his face, “How many did you buy?”

“Around ten or so.”

“Ten? (Y/N), sweetheart, we have cupboards full of candles.”

“I know but let me show you them! They smell so good!”

“Of course, but I need to know – did you go to the bakery?”

“What do you take me for? I could never deprive you of your vanilla slices. They’re in the fridge.” You peck his lips quickly before turning to grab your latest purchases from the cupboard.

Remus heads to the fridge; his stomach growls at the sight of the vanilla slice waiting for him. Healthy breakfast be damned, he turned into a werewolf once a month, if he wanted dessert for breakfast, he was going to have it.

He puts it on a plate before settling down at the dining table.

He isn’t angry – why on earth would he be? Candles bring you joy. He’s a minute away from suggesting you start making them yourself but when you set the candles down the table with such care and look at Remus with such excitement at showing him your haul; all sentient thoughts leave his head and he’s left with the love he feels for you.

Remus takes a bite of his sweet, “Tell me about them, love. What did you buy?”

You grin; the smile crinkling the corners of your eyes. And yeah, Remus’ heart just skipped a beat.

“Oh, Remus! It’s such a cute shop – entirely independent and it has the most positive energy. I could spend all day in there! And the owner is so lovely! So helpful. He looked shocked at the pile of candles I put by the till, but I simply couldn’t not buy anything. You know how I am with candles.”

He chuckles, “Like a moth to a flame. So what new scents do we have?”

You hold up one of the glass jar candles, “Okay… So we have: forget me nots and mountain air; Damascus rose and sweet orange; night jasmine and citrus; coffee and chocolate; lavender and patchouli; burnt sugar and rain; lily of the valley and white musk; sweet peaches and ripe cranberries; crisp apples and rose petals…”

You trail off, putting the lids back on them once Remus had smelt them and had handed them back to you.

Remus points at the final jar, still unopened, “What does that one smell like?”

You avoid his eyes as you murmur, “I had to buy it when the shop owner explained its properties.”

“Oh?”

You nod, unscrewing the lid to the candle, taking a sniff before handing it to Remus. “It holds healing properties.”

“How so?”

“It’s got peppermint oil to ease headaches. As well as lemongrass and vanilla to help relieve stress and tension and promote relaxation. I thought we could give it a try for a couple of nights before you leave for the moon.”

He looks up from his study of the candle, “You bought this for me?”

You nod, shrugging, “It’s something to try. You always try to downplay the headaches you get but I know how much pain you are in and that healing potions do little to help other than make you drowsy. So I thought we could try this; we could light it when we start getting ready for bed. You don’t have to though, Remus. It’s entirely your choice.”

“You did this for me?” He asks, voice shaky.

You frown, “I did. Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

He shakes his head, trying to find the right words, “You did absolutely nothing wrong. I just didn’t expect to feel this touched by your candle addiction.”

“You haven’t noticed have you?”

“What?”

“Remus, the majority of my candles all have some healing properties in them. I’ll do anything I can to make the transition that little bit easier whenever we don’t have access to the wolfsbane potion. This is the first time you’ve actively noticed it though.”

He opens his mouth, then quickly closes it. He never realised the meaning of the differing scents – and he should have. He got top grades in Herbology and Potions, but it never clicked with him. He would always comment on the scents; whether they were pleasant or not, but he simply put it down to your love of them.

Remus finally realises what it feels like to love and be loved with just as much passion in return.

“So you don’t have a candle addiction?” He finally says, his voice hoarse with emotion.

You chuckle, “Oh no, I do. I definitely have a candle addiction; it’s been there before I was with you, but you kind of give me a purpose to buy them.”

He passes the jarred candle between his hands, “So you do all of this to try and ease the days before the transition?”

You nod, “I can’t do a lot in those few days, Remus. I’m only useful when you come back and I can help patch you up, but before then, there isn’t very much I can do to help, and it hurts me. I had the idea when I was clearing out my candle cupboards; getting ready for my Christmas collection. I was reading the labels and it suddenly hit me and I don’t know how I didn’t think of it before. But it’s been a while since we were at Hogwarts. Anyway, as I was reading the labels, I realised the healing properties of the oils in the candles. So I bought a Herbology textbook and started brushing up on my knowledge of plants that could help.

“The opening of the new candle shop was pure coincidence, but I had to buy the candle once the owner explained it to me. Your headaches are so bad, and I can never do a lot other than place a cold flannel on your head to lessen the pain but even that doesn’t work a whole lot. So I light the candles, making sure not to overwhelm you with the smell, and they seem to help a little.”

Remus is sure his face is a picture. You were right; in the days before he leaves for the transformation, he suffers with tension headaches from the pain of the moons path and his resistance of the monster within. You could never do a lot; it’s a pain that not even the strongest pain potions could touch. Yet, you tried to find a way to help him. You came up with your own solution.

“I love you.” He states; the only words he’s capable of saying right now.

You smile, it lighting up your face, “I love you too. You’re not mad?”

“How could I be mad? You buy candles with the sole purpose of trying to ease my pain. I’m the furthest thing from mad; I adore you.”

You blink away the tears, “Remus…”

“You’re incredible. First, you love me despite my being a werewolf and having to leave you every month. And then, you try to ease my pain by finding candle combinations that help with headaches and anxiety. What did I do to deserve you?”

“You were you, Remus. I fell in love with you in Fifth Year when you spent the entirety of our free period asking me about my favourite books. We were supposed to be revising for our OWLs, but you wanted my attention completely. And you got it.”

He takes a smell of the candle, committing the scent to memory, “I’ve loved you just as long. I saw your battered copy of Wuthering Heights peeking out of your bag and I just knew.”

You point at the candle, “What do you think then?”

He grins, “I think we’re going to have a lot more candles lit around the house.”

*********

General (HP) taglist: @the-hufflefluffwriter @obsessedwithrandomthings @kalimagik @summer-writes @lupins-sweater @slytherinprincess03 @mischiefsemimanaged @soleil-amaryllis @masterofthedarkness @bforbroadway @chaotic-fae-queen @peachesandpinks @nebulablakemurphy @haphazardhufflepuff @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @firewhisky-kisses @deafgirltingz

[ilonga]

new chapter of Master Krell!

ao3

Anakin's second introduction to the Jedi Temple is nearly as strange as the first.

Sure, the first time it'd been completely overwhelming—his first time off planet, and suddenly he was on Coruscant, the capital, in the heart of the Jedi and already being presented to the Jedi Council. But now he's returning, and in the meantime he's seen a Jedi die, a planet nearly collapse under siege, and blown up an entire droid control ship from the inside out. 

And he's returning not as a terrified to-be reject, but as a Jedi padawan.

None of this feels real.

Obi-wan had cut his hair, back on Naboo, and arranged his new Padawan's braid; apparently it was tradition for the Jedi Master to do it, but after correspondence with the Jedi Council and Master Krell it had been decided that in the interests of smoothing out his transition, Anakin would be skipping out on most of the formalities and ceremony.

Anakin's not quite sure how he feels about that, yet. Maybe the formalities would have made it feel less like the ground was falling out from under his feet but, then again, maybe they would have made it even worse.

He'd said his goodbyes back on Naboo—to Jar Jar, the clumsy but kind and good-hearted Gungan, to R2, that crazy daredevil of an astromech, and to Padme, the brave and brilliant Queen (he still can't believe she had been the Queen all along, that he knows the Queen of a planet). He'll miss them, he thinks, though of course not nearly as much as everyone he'd left behind on Tatooine; his heart aches for his mother, for Kitster, and the rest.

What does your heart tell you?

His heart says he'll meet them all again someday—the Naboo and the Tatooinians. So it must be true. 

"Nearing the atmosphere," the pilot says, and Anakin looks up only to meet Obi-wan's uneasy gaze. 

"Best strap in," he says, though it looks like there's something else at the tip of his tongue. "Just a few more minutes now, and you'll meet Master Krell for the first time. He'll be waiting at the Temple."

"Okay," Anakin says, though what he really wants to say is I know. Obi-wan's repeated himself enough on this trip that Anakin's practically got his words memorized.

Obi-wan watches him for another moment before turning away.

"Landing sequence activated," the pilot says. Anakin cranes his neck around the safety restraints to get a look at the planet's surface. The last time they'd come here, he'd been both too nervous and too far from any viewports to get a good look.

It's. . . incredible.

Seeing Coruscant from afar had been nothing compared to this.

The entire surface is covered in glittering, distorted metal structures as far as the eye can see, shooting up for the skies with fervent vigor. As they get closer, he can see what looks like hundreds and thousands of ships and speeders, descending from the skies and rising from below and twisting and weaving between buildings and streetlights. His eyes catch on a strangely shaped metal dome to the side, rising out of the masses like Gardulla's palace in its glory days.

"Uh," he says quietly, tugging at Obi-wan's sleeve before he can think the better of it. "What's that over there?"

"Hm?" Obi-wan says, startled at the contact, but then follows his gaze and sees what he's pointing at. "Ah. That's the Senate Rotunda—it's where all the galactic governmental duties are carried out. It's where Queen Amidala went before, to request aid against the Federation's blockade."

His gaze catches on something else and he gestures to Anakin. "If you look over there," he says, pointing ahead, "you can see the Temple in the distance. We're very close now."

Anakin follows his line of sight. All he can see are the spires, really, and the hint of the rectangular form below. Their first visit had been rather rushed; he doesn't remember much but high ceilings and long hallways, and the endlessly intimidating Council Room. Hopefully they can skip out on that part this time. He's been accepted for certain, right? No need to go through the tests again?

Obi-wan coughs delicately and Anakin realizes with a start that he'll be living at the Temple now. If all goes well, for maybe even the rest of his life.

The thought settles strangely against his chest and he jams his hands under his seat to stop them from shaking.

"Just a few minutes now," the pilot says. 

They pull ever closer.

*

They land without much fanfare. 

If he had been just a little bit less nervous, Anakin would have begged to watch the landing sequence from the cockpit—the Naboo pilots had been so nice to him, and this ship has got to be one of the most beautiful he's ever been on in his life—but as it is, he stays glued to his seat instead.

Obi-wan is the first to get up, and gestures for Anakin to follow him with a jerk of his head. On the landing pad, he recognizes Master Yoda and Master Windu. Behind them, there's a tall alien whose species he's never encountered before and a few other figures he remembers from the Council Room.

"Knight Kenobi," Master Windu says gravely. Suddenly Master Qui-gon's absence feels like a gaping hole—everyone keeps shifting as if to accommodate someone who isn't actually there. Obi-wan glances to the side and meets Anakin's eyes instead; he purses his lips and quickly looks away. 

"Commend you, for the feat you have achieved in defeating the Sith, we do," Master Yoda says. "A great deed you have done, young Kenobi."

Obi-wan blinks. He looks to the side again. "I only did my duty," he finally says.

Master Yoda speaks again, but this time, Anakin doesn't catch what he says. He's trying to take in as much of his surroundings as possible without being too obvious.

There are about six others with him and Obi-wan right now—Master Yoda, who's still speaking, Master Windu, three others he remembers from the Council, and the imposing reptilian figure who has both sets of his arms crossed. Could this be the Master Krell Obi-wan had mentioned before? The one who Obi-wan had said would take over Anakin's training?

The figure huffs and trains his gaze on Anakin, and Anakin quickly looks away. 

The rest of the hangar is a cavernous, elegant space; transports and shuttles of various builds line the walls, with Jedi (mechanics? Mechanic Jedi?) dotting the walls here and there, busying themselves with repair work. The floor below them has its tiles arranged in a bright, colorful pattern, almost reminiscent of Naboo's palace though not nearly as ostentatious. 

A passing mechanic (Jedi?) looks up and meets his eyes. She's a blue Twi'lek, probably just a few years older than Anakin himself. She grins and waves.

Hesitantly, Anakin waves back.

"We've bored you two enough for now, I should think," One of the Masters from the Council says, and Anakin snaps his attention back to them. "Shall we move on to a more pressing order of business?"

"Ah - yes. Yes, of course." Obi-wan says. He turns to Master Yoda. "If you would - "

The reptilian figure steps forward and speaks, cutting through Obi-wan's hesitant stutters. "That is more than enough, Knight Kenobi." 

"Master Krell - " The same Jedi from before says - Master Billaba, Anakin remembers now. She'd been in the Council Room during his original examination, but had barely spoken at all. Her voice is nice, Anakin decides. Soothing. "Perhaps we should take it with a bit more . . . patience?"

Master Krell - so Anakin was right, he was the mysterious Master Krell - concedes and steps back. "My apologies, Master Billaba. I am . . . eager to begin."

"Understandable." Master Billaba says lightly, but her gaze continues to rest on him. Is there something Anakin's missing, here? Some friction between the two of them? Master Billaba hadn't spoken for or against him during the examination - but maybe she was one of the ones that didn't want him trained, and even Master Krell's appointment didn't change his mind. Maybe he'll need to be on his best behavior to impress her. Or maybe it'll be better to avoid her entirely. Out of the corner of his eyes Anakin sees Obi-wan fold his arms into his sleeves.

"Then, if I may?" Master Krell says, beginning to move away from the group. The surrounding Masters nod their consent, followed by Obi-wan with a few seconds' delay. Vaguely Anakin wonders how Master Qui-gon would react to all of this, if he could see it now. Would he be happy Anakin was being trained? Upset, that he had been replaced by a different Master? Would he have changed his mind entirely, decided that Anakin should have been left behind after all? "Come with me, Skywalker."

Anakin can do nothing else but follow.

*

They walk down the long, winding hallways for what seems like forever before Master Krell finally decides to speak.

"Young Skywalker," he says. "You have heard by now that you are to be my Padawan, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Anakin says quickly. He wonders when Master Krell found out. Had he volunteered? Been forcibly assigned to him? Had he just found out before they landed in the hangar, or known days in advance?

"Good." Master Krell says, keeping his gaze trained on the hallway ahead. "This means, of course, that for the next decade or so until you become a Knight, you are under my authority as my Jedi Padawan. I will teach you, direct you, and train you every day until you meet and surpass the qualifications necessary for Knighting. I can make you into the greatest of the Jedi, as befitting of your title of prophecy - but only if you listen, and obey. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," Anakin says again.

"Excellent." Krell says, leading them further down the hallway. Maybe any moment now, they'll be coming up on Anakin's new rooms. His own rooms - he can hardly believe it.

"You will be the very best of us, Skywalker," Krell says, sounding rather less like he means it as a compliment and more like he means it as an order. "The very best."

Anakin doesn't know how to respond to that, but he's saved from the efforts by Master Krell's satisfied huff.

It rather seems like his new Master prefers the silence.

[lizacstuff]

I'm sure others will ask this but what are you thoughts on the episode of SCK?? I love your in-depth analysis lol. I personally loved it!!! Also can I just say that the edser/hanker chemistry is off the charts lol. If this was the first episode I watched ever, without subtitles, their scenes would be a giant neon sign that says "THESE CHARACTERS ARE MADLY IN LOVE!!!". Eda was beyond cute/in love/adorable in this episode with serkan, girl has got it bad and I wish she didn't have her stupid grandmother and these insecurities in the way ahhh. I really love the Ayfer/Aydan duo, they're fun when they're together and Ayfer wasn't annoying like the last few EPs. Also, Balca can go choke lol, I'm so glad Serkan didn't fall for her trap for him to stay over!! He was like nah come to the party (my girl is waiting!!!). Was serkan about to tell Eda that he had to stop by her house? He seemed really nervous. ANYWAYS, I love EdSer and am going to go watch their scenes 1000x before next week 😭🥰

Thank you! I love Edser too!!!!  Like you, I enjoyed this episode, though it was despite some of the narrative issues (that I posted about here.) There were good, meaty Edser scenes, which is why I watch this show. Once again I'll start with the non-Eda/Serkan thoughts and then get to the feelsy stuff at the end.

Babaanne's introduction did not disappoint. The actress has the right energy for the role. I guess we now know why Eda has been adamant about cutting her out of her life, Babaanne is next level controlling and vindictive. We'll have to see how she develops and what her endgame motives are. Does she want her revenge more than she wants her granddaughter and daughter in her life? Or does she think if she wins and arranges everything including an advantageous marriage for Eda, Eda will eventually go along and decide it's awesome and reconciliation will come about that way? *evil laugh* She doesn’t know her granddaughter at all if she thinks that’s a possibility. 

(more under the cut)

I enjoyed her non-Balca scenes, especially when she was going toe-to-toe with Eda. That scene in Serkan's old upstairs office was intense, both actresses really brought it and kudos to Eda staying true to her defiant character. No one pushes her around. Prepare yourselves to see her waver a bit, I'm sure it's quite jarring to see your loved one in jail and know that he's there because of you, but she'll get to the point of fighting beside him. I have no doubt.

It was nice to see Ayfer protecting Aydan and Seyfi, it made for some great comedy and it was a good change after all of Ayfer's annoying, unrelenting negativity in general and about the Bolats. We'll see what happens between the two now that they appear to be vying for Chef Alexander's attention. Nesilhan just cracks me up when she's portraying Aydan play acting, the stilted voice she takes on is always hilarious to me, like when Ayfer was introducing "Aisun" to Serkan.  As we move forward, though, I want to see some badass Aydan. She  was introduced to us as a force of nature, so I hope we see that woman, a woman who will go to the mat for her son and Eda, emerge at some point. No hiding from Babaanne long term. Everyone needs to gear up to fight!

Peril and Engin got married! Their scene at home was really well done and gave me a bit better insight into them and why they might work. The only thing I was disappointed about here was that Serkan was not their witness. He counts them as some of his only friends and they didn't call him? Come on, show!  They could have easily structured the ep to have him get the call while there was chaos at his loft that morning and it would have been the perfect excuse for him to grab Eda and head to the wedding leaving the moms and Babaane to Chef Alexander.  It wouldn't have changed anything about the episode because Eda still could have gone to do her thing after the wedding and everything else would have been the same, except it all would have had a bit more heart. Missed opportunity there. 

I've decided that Ferit is a catch. At the beginning of the show he was just so naïve, that he seemed foolish, but he's really turned into a sweet, upstanding man. You hold on to him, Ceren. The irony in his relationship with Serkan is just outstanding to me, because ALL of this started because Serkan was willing to upend his own life (and Selin, Ferit and Eda's) will the sole goal of keeping Ferit out of his business, and now here we are 24 episodes later, Selin is long gone, Eda is the love of his life, and Ferit has turned into a solid, trust-worthy business partner and friend who is putting Babaanne in her place on the first day. Love to see it. 

Balca, that snake just gets more unhinged as we go along. Good GAWD. WTF is wrong with her? Her eventual comeuppance better be big. I'm really to the point that I can't enjoy any scene that she's in, it's just too maddening, because neither Serkan nor Eda are taking her seriously enough. Which I realize they don't know what we know, but dang I hope Serkan is finally connecting the dots because her behavior is not normal. As Eda says, who gives a gift like that to their boss? Who calls their new boss instead of the police when there's an intruder in the house?  By now he should be able to figure out she's manipulating him.  

Also how was she not daunted when she called and Eda was there?  What did she think would happen when he came to get the gift when he had Eda to get home to? On top of everything else she's shameless and delusional.  As for the gift, that was creepy AF. Did she seriously think that her boss, who she's known a week, would be romanced by that?  Or any man for that matter? Did Selin give her the impression he was so arrogant that this would be the perfect thing for him? As much as I want less of her on screen, I would like to know the thought process behind that embarrassing monstrosity. Because it was not a savvy move. But the good news is that no one was more creeped out by it than Serkan Bolat. It seemed to really unsettle him, which it should. It was nice to see Eda getting over her jealousy, perhaps that came with her decision to try and move forward. Before she was in this state of flux, deep-down wanting Serkan to be hers, but not being able to admit that and feeling an outside threat during that confusion. 

I saw some criticism of Eda because she was openly mocking and dismissive of Balca. However, while I agree her behavior was a tad immature at times... Balca was totally asking for it.  She's been at the company for mere days and her weird, manipulative, obsessive behavior is totally inappropriate. Also if she didn't take a hint from Eda opening mocking her, Eda picking out her gift from Serkan, Serkan deferring queries about his NYE plans to Eda, Eda being at his house when Balca called, I think we can safely say that Balca in unaffected by any of Eda's behavior, thus Eda isn't hurting anyone. While Balca is over here, claws out, trying to start a war. Balca is the villain here, not Eda for recognizing and making fun of it.

Despite the emotional inconsistencies between Eda and Serkan in this episode, during one scene they were hot, the next, one or the other was cold without rhyme or reason, there were many great conversations. I really enjoyed their conference room scenes in particular. Serkan confident and calming her down, Eda being enraged by Babaanne, but listening to him and letting him calm her down. 

His little Eda Bolat coffee cup gag was priceless, he did succeed in both diverting her and flirting with her in one suave move. Also a nice bit of foreshadowing there, which there was a lot of this episode. Not just this and the bouquet catch, but also every single one of their domestic scenes. 

As I said in this post, the rewrite, or whatever happened this episode, did cause some pretty big emotional inconsistencies from scene to scene. I know most people loved the scenes when Eda went to find Serkan, but it was a little whiplashy for me.  We go from Serkan being calm and collected and happily flirting with her about being Eda Bolat at the office, to a short time later him being moody and standoffish with her at his house? It's understandable that he would be upset at her suggestion that she leave the company, but I would think the man that broke her heart for her own good, would understand why she might think of  leaving in order to get rid of someone who is threatening him! 

It just felt like a weird time for him to hit his threshold with her, especially since this was when they were supposed to be heading to Paris (huge writing fail that there was no "Oh I guess we have to postpone Paris" throwaway line).  However, perhaps that was accelerated for him in the face of a real threat?  Like if it was just another day he's fine with her waffling and their little contract game, but he feels in his bones that this is go time and he needs to find out if she's ready for what's coming?  (Look at me finding reasons for the inconsistencies as I answer this ask, lmao).

Then the shaving scene was interesting. She starts by saying "Leaving was a dumb idea, I'm still here, I'll be by your side," which YAY and seems to me to be a huge step forward for her.... but then he doesn't feel it. Why exactly, didn't he feel it?  So then she transitions to the biggest head scratcher of the episode for me, and I really hope it's a translation fail. She basically references the movie they saw and says,  "If I could erase all memories of you, I would." Um... what? Is she really saying to him she wishes they never met? I sure hope there was some modifier in there, like "bad" memories only or something. It seemed way harsh and inconsistent with their feelings for one another. However, once he starts talking about being a machine before meeting her and his heart being too heavy without her, the dialogue is pretty great. He really bares his soul and she reciprocates with intimacy.  The second half of this scene is absolutely lovely. 

The visit to Aydan's house was interesting.  At some point I'm gonna need Aydan and especially Ayfer to step up when it comes to Babaanne.  Ayfer ran scared the whole episode and it's just not fair of her to leave the burden on Eda. Hopefully, she'll get there. There was a reason Babaanne told Eda not to tell Ayfer about the threats, and threatened harm to Serkan and family if she did so. I'm guessing Ayfer may be better equipped to deal with her mother than was suggested in this episode. The conversation about Eda running from her grandmother as a child and losing the bracelet was very affecting and well done, and thankfully Serkan was out of his sulky mood and in full-on supportive boyfriend mode. Phew, good to have you back, Serkan.

That throne Babaanne brought in was something else. Worth a good laugh. However, I feel like it highlights a few cracks we've already started to see in Babaanne's scary façade. First, there's the one I just talked about, with Babaanne not wanting Ayfer to know what she's up to, so we now know who might be successful in opposing her or might know things that could shut her down.. her daughter. Then this ridiculous throne move had to be her way of unsettling everyone, but as we see that fails with Serkan. He's pretty unflappable when it comes to her nonsense antics. 

Then Babaanne singles out Balca as her ally, which on one hand, it was astute of her to figure out who was the outsider, ripe for the picking, but she straight up choose the wack job, who let's face it, is not going to be all that competent of a foot soldier for her, because she has no allies and she's not in anyone's confidence. Plus she made that critical error with the present being so off-putting to Serkan. Balca might be able to cause problems, but she can’t get Serkan to transfer his affection for Eda onto her, so her usefulness here is limited. Babanne needed to try and fool someone like Melo, Ferit or Leyla. Prey on the nice ones who might try to be accommodating just so everyone gets along. 

Anyway, I loved the Edser scenes in the office, he brought her lemon water! My heart.  And I loved the meeting with the inner circle. Serkan has a plan! Of course our boy does, he wouldn't be Serkan Bolat if he didn't. It's always fun to see how much they all trust him to lead them through these tough times. He will once again emerge victorious. It just may take some time on this one

Note Blaca wasn't invited to that meeting, someone already can sense she can't be trusted. In the meeting later with Babaanne, I loved how Eda was sitting next to Serkan at the head of the table, totally squared off against her grandmother. That blocking was not by accident. It showed them facing her. On the same side. Together. United. That's what we call foreshadowing and that's how they're ultimately going to defeat her. Together. 

It's interesting to me that earlier in the day when Eda tells him maybe she should leave the company he gets upset, but when she shows up at his house and straight up says they can't be together, he's completely calm and is his normal confident self, talking her into staying the night with his usual ease. I'm thinking her manic rambling about him getting tired of her and her grandmother separating them was just too obvious of an emotional spiral after an exhausting day (that lasted 47 years and multiple wardrobe changes) so he didn't take any of it to heart.

As for the reason she needed a place to stay, WTF is Ayfer doing letting Babaanne stay in their home??  Kick her out for the love of God. I don't mind, since it gave us this fabulous sleepover, but come on woman, at one time you were strong enough to remove your niece from her which could not have been easy, where is your backbone now? Find it. Fast. 

LOVED LOVED LOVED every second of domestic Edser. How cute are they? Serkan wheeling her dinosaur suitcase was so adorable. And how cute is it that he bought hot chocolate for her? And THEN, THEN when they went to look at the stars? My heart melted clean out of my chest when he said, "I'm already looking at the most beautiful star."  Remember in 13 when he asked her, "How are you real?" and she basically told him to be careful or she'd get spoiled and expect that kind of romance all the time? Well apparently the romantic robot has an endless capacity to generate heart-stopping one-liners so she really needn't have worried. 

Eda's phone call with the girls was another whiplash moment for me. So wait... all episode her trepidation has been around her grandmother interfering or Serkan getting tired of her, but now she's back to wondering if he can change? Ne? And she isn't articulating what she wants him to change, or talking to him about change at all, only asking her friends if they think it's possible?? The change thing made perfect sense to me in eps 20-22, because she was coming off of his lie that broke her heart, but now I can't figure out what she wants from him. I think this is another casualty of whatever writing changes happened in this episode. I really hope the writers pull it together and figure out what the character's headspace is and stick with it. It's one thing to yo-yo from episode to episode, but to yo-yo scene to scene is too much. 

I know that they're trying to create suspense for whether she would meet him to ring in the New Year, and start fresh, but there are much more elegant ways to do this than constant retread conversations that don't make sense in context with the scenes that came before. Honestly, this episode had a LOT of wonderful scenes and humor and heartfelt moments, but it also felt like a franken-episode,  like if different writers were assigned different scenes and then they assembled the episode without going back to smooth out the tone and emotions.

That leads us to Serkan discovering Eda in the bath. What do we think was going through his mind there? lmao. He looked exceptionally pleased and he did the jokey flirty thing, taking a mental picture, but then when she comes downstairs in her jammies, he has gone into stone-cold work robot mode. I suppose the best I can guess is that he knew she was confused, he knew he had convinced her to stay under the guise it would be platonic and the "last time." 

He's always been a gentleman with her. So perhaps he felt compelled, for her sake, to keep it in that place, but seeing her in the bath send him into overdrive and the only thing he could do is throw himself into work to make sure the situation didn't go any further before she was fully ready? That's my best attempt at explaining it.  Still she was flirting hardcore with him when she came downstairs, it feels like that was the moment he's been waiting for since episode 19, and he let it sail by.  Ah well, at some point soon both their engines will be revving at the same time and we’ll finally get to the sexy times. 

The next morning was 100% adorable. Serkan Bolat serving breakfast in bed. I swoon!  What a sweetheart, because I'm pretty certain that Serkan does NOT like crumbs in his bed so this was a big gesture. And you could see how much she appreciated it, despite teasing him about the portion size. Eda, that breakfast would have been just fine by me, but if the girl has a big appetite, so be it.

Also, Edacim, it would be a lot easier to buy your "confusion" if you hadn't brought him a heartfelt gift that would have taken a good while, like weeks, to procure and then sketched in it for him!!!!  She had to have been planning that for some time.  Anyway, a very sweet gift and one of those moments where actions speak louder than words. We all want to hear Eda say the words "I Love You," but she just said it very loudly here in the form of this gift. Even if she wasn't fully aware she was saying it. It's obvious where her heart is, she just has to give herself permission to follow it.

This ep also brought the funny when half the cast of characters barged in on Edser’s little love nest. Good for both Eda and Serkan for refusing to be a part of the subterfuge for Babaanne. I'm hopeful we're going into a secret relationship/engagement storyline, but at this point I like that neither were cowing to her. Eda is an adult and it's nobody's business but her own where she stays the night! 

It cracks me up that Eda and Serkan were discombobulated by the intrusion, had the silent #married conversation, and headed upstairs together. Mostly because they are the two in the dark, what are they going to figure out by going upstairs alone? What they really needed was to talk to any of the other people to find out what in the hell was happening. Not that I blame them for wanting to escape that scene together. However, what was beautiful was their connection in these scenes. They were functioning as partners, as each other's person, as the one each turns to when they need support (or escape).  And that's really saying something since they were in a room full of the people they're both closest too.

Finally, I'm glad they spoiled the final scene in the fragman, because I would have been too stressed watching Balca's psychotic efforts in keeping Serkan away from the party, and Eda, if I hadn't known he would make it.  As it was, it  was too much to watch. They've done absolutely nothing to make her even a little sympathetic. I feel zero empathy for her, I don't understand why she's willing to take these risks. No man is worth it, girl! Especially not a man you just decided you wanted because of his initials!  The character needs to serve her purpose and go. Soon.

As for Serkan making it in time, THANK GOODNESS. I don't think Eda could have handled being stood up again. Even taking her call was a mistake. That's why we have voicemail, Serkan. And clearly he should have called the police on his way. I sincerely hope that he finds out the break-in was a fake and that's what makes him realize what level of crazy he's dealing with. I assume, because he didn't know what else to do, he left Balca in his home and that's what he wanted to tell Eda right before the police arrived. I shudder to think what damage she might do there alone. Installing a hidden mic or camera for Babaanne? Going through his things? Planting more items. Ew. If that spec is right the place will need to be fumigated.  

Serkan's gift was, of course, perfection. Talk about love in gift form, and did you notice that one of the charms was an "E" and one was an "S"? A sweet, heart-felt detail and a nice little nod to which initials really matter on this show.  Interestingly, after a full episode of inner turmoil, once Serkan arrived, Eda seemed to be all-in. She was bubbly and happy to see him and definitely acting like he was her date. And then the hug! Finally! They've obviously been physically close in recent post-break up episodes, for example elevator, pottery, dancing, skating, but what a relief to finally have this pure, intentional display of affection from her to him. Also a cheek kiss! This show, I swear it makes me grateful for the most chaste of moments.

As I said in another ask, I think the, "Will you be my girlfriend?" was in Serkan's head. We didn't see him say it, she didn't respond and the audio was hollow like it was a thought or memory or dream. However, what I can't answer is why we heard that. Why put it in there? We know he wants them to get back together, so that line doesn't inform the audience of anything they don't already know. So maybe proposal foreshadowing?  On the other hand, there is the line earlier in the episode that was voice over added after the fact (when Edser are in the small conf room and Serkan says he’s going home) so maybe they added the audio after the scene for some reason? I don’t know with this episode anything is possible. 

Then, of course, Babaanne ruins their moment with her evil plan. Next episode will she be sitting on her throne stroking a hairless cat Because it feel like Babaanne may like a bit of evil aura to surround her. Anyway, next stop... jail! I'm honestly excited to see how the next ep plays out. We're going to go through some things, so prepare your soul, but I honestly think we may end the ep in a better place. (new cliffhanger notwithstanding) We shall see. 

[grantcontrol]

Swarm Keeper ◈ solo

Timing: Sunday Afternoon (March 28, 2021) Location: The Silver Bullet >>> some cabin in the woods Summary: White Crest’s resident exterminator, Anton Grant of Bug Busters Pest Control Solutions, is having a drink at The Silver Bullet when he gets a call regarding a job at a cabin in the woods. When he gets there, however, he finds out that it's not just a regular pest problem. Fortunately, he has a jar of peanut butter in the van. Don’t ask. Content: Insect references, terrible pop culture references, rambling 

“Freaking children, am I right?” Anton Grant groaned before taking a swig of his drink. It’s only been a couple of weeks since he first arrived in White Crest, taking over his late grandfather’s pest control business and making sure the old man’s affairs were in order, and yet, the exterminator’s already a regular at The Silver Bullet, sharing drinks with fellow hunters both old and new, mostly old. He turned to the older hunter beside him, chuckling, “That’s why I’m never having kids, man. I’ve got a business and my grandpa’s old dog. That’s all I’ll ever need.”

The move was also surprisingly easier than he expected it to be. Of course it helped that Anton didn’t have that many possessions to bring into this new life of his, more out of financial restraints than choice, so he didn’t have that many problems transitioning. Still, even as the familiar tunes of ABBA played throughout the establishment from the jukebox in the corner, he just couldn’t take the time to relish in the peace, choosing instead to make a big deal out of nothing. 

“What I don’t need, though, is the disrespect of this place.” He turned to the wall near the back, lined with the mounted heads of slain supernatural creatures, a host of hunter trophies. “You’ve got all these great catches, yeah, sure, but where did they place my catch, my trophy? Near the toilet! Of all places, man! The audacity!” 

“Well, to be fair, it was just a damn mandible. Not even a full one. Just a piece.” The old hunter laughed, shaking his head, as he downed his own glass. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Grant. Did you know that the last owner of this fine establishment, we only knew him as Sarge? Some 64-year-old bastard with a peg leg because a giant-ass werewolf mistook it for a drumstick? Just chomped that leg off like it was Thanksgiving.”

As the older man continued to ramble on about Sarge and his werewolf rival, throwing in a few complaints about younger folk being too whiney and less active, Anton couldn’t help but be a little skeptical. It wasn’t just about Sarge being real or not, too. From the sounds of things, that werewolf was too big to be real as well. Then again, what does Anton know? He’s an exterminator, a pest hunter, not a dog catcher.

Fortunately for him, his phone rang just in time, saving him from the old man’s rambling. Not that the old man noticed, as he just continued sharing more stories about the good old days. At that, Anton simply shrugged and took the call, dark brown eyes on the chatty old hunter as the voice on the other line gave him an address. “You’ve got a job, old man. Said they’ll wait at their cabin for you but they’ve already made arrangements for another place to stay while you do your thing. You good for it, right?” Good for it? Of course Anton’s good for it. There was no other choice.

“Hey, listen, I’ve gotta go.” Anton quickly pocketed his cheap phone before grabbing his drink and finishing it in one go. He turned to the old hunter who was still talking, patted him on the shoulder, and then gave the skeptical bartender a nod. “Put it on my tab! You know where I live. You’ve got scary friends. It’ll be fine.” Anton slithered out of his seat without even looking back at the two once he had said his goodbyes, making a beeline for the exit, but not before stubbing his toe on the leg of a chair, iron or maybe even iron plated because screw the fae, right? “Gods damn it, guys.” He groaned, wincing in pain, not really stopping, while the bartender and the old hunter laughed at his bad fortune.

Outside, he skipped towards his white van, still wincing whenever the victimized foot accidentally made contact with the ground, though it didn’t take him long to jump in the driver’s seat, stab the key in its hole, and get the hell out of there. The Silver Bullet was always intentionally hard to find, thanks to the discreteness of the patrons themselves, especially towards the unwelcomed folks, which made Anton’s first visit a hilarious combination of getting lost for hours and almost getting beaten up because he forgot to tell them he was a hunter as well. When he did, though, and proudly mentioning his choice of prey, he was laughed at, welcomed inside, and even treated to a free drink. Hunters can be just as weird, man.

You know what else was weird? The cabin in the woods, his destination. On the surface, it looked just like any other cabin in the woods, everything was made of wood and lumber, but something about it felt strange and eerie to the exterminator. The couple, a lumberjack that looked extremely boring as hell and his much younger, more attractive wife, were waiting for him outside, where the discussion took place faster than that old hunter could get to the point of his story. 

“So, how long has this been going on?” Anton squinted, arms crossed, as he looked at the boring lumberjack and tried his best to keep his dark brown eyes from wandering to his hot wife. “Just a couple of days. Not sure what it is, but we thought you guys might.” He replied in the most boring tone possible. Before Anton could shoo them away so he can begin his work, the wife suddenly added something very important to the conversation at the very last minute. “Hopefully you get this pest out of here within the week. I’d rather not come back to milk spoiling really fast again and my underwear disappearing and reappearing all over the place.” Almost immediately, one word exploded in Anton’s mind: Fuck. 

Once the weird couple was gone, their pick-up truck driving away to some motel where they would spend the next few days, the exterminator went back to his van, stocked with a wide array of pest control weapons and equipment, and opened the rear door to start rummaging through the most appropriate of things to deal with the damned mind-boggling unwanted guests: his favorite spear, with its blade made of iron, and a jar of cheap peanut butter. Heaving a deep sigh, Anton squinted back at the cabin, mocking himself with a dry tone. “Who you gonna call? Bug Busters. Yay.”

[END]

[irldoomerboy]

OK SO YALL REMEMBER WHEN I POSTED THAT COMIC WITH LEONS ARM IN IT?????????????? HE GETS A FACE AND CONK GETS A PROPER INTRODUCTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So these are me and my bud Liam's farmer oc self inserts or whatever, they're brothers and have been close since the very beginning, like two peas in a pod :D

Conk is an ex-”talented kid” who had a massive burnout after high school and just kept overworking himself since, he used to play sports and play music in his mixed genre band, before deciding to move to pelican town he had a heart attack in his office while working for Joja corp, he blames the entire thing on Joja despite it being his fault that he chugged 10 high caffeine energy drinks in the span of less then 2 hours. Despite what hes been through hes stayed the same man he always is, a hopeless romantic whos interested in the unknown and the thrill of adventure, he often gets hurt due to his own impulsiveness and perseverance but there isnt a time where he got back up onto his feet. Conk is an overall calm and chill dude but he doesnt take shit from anyone and can tend to be extremely protective of his loved ones when need be, he gets attached to people faster then he can pick up a new skill or hobby...its worrying? None the less Conk is like everyones big brother that would stick with you no matter what you did. 

Leon is a very shy and reserved guy who doesnt really like new people, he prefers to stick around with friends instead of meeting newcomers, once you get to know him he seems more like he picked up Conks impulsiveness through the years and normally pulls pranks or does dumb things for probably no good reason. He was that kid in high skool that would always get the bad end of the stick and didnt have many friends other then a few of Conks friends. Leon often gets flustered easily and panics around someone he likes (probably more then he should) but hes trying his best so you cant blame him. He sees his older brother as a role model and as a father figure, let alone if hes close with you he will probably see you as family, hes a very caring person when it comes to his peers, despite how incredibly impulsive and tricky he is, he does care.

FUNFACTS:

Theyre both British, Conk has the accent and Leon doesnt

Conk is naturally a brunette and Leon is ginger

They simply dont have a dad that was there when they were young so they just looked at Harvey and Elliott and were like “yep those are our new fatherly figures”

Conk is married to Sebastian and Leon is a hopeless simp for Sam 

Conk is 19 and is 5′8

Leon is 18 and 4′11

Theyre mother is named Miss Barkson and their dad is Mr Winters

Conk used to play tennis and badminton as his main 2 sports to play

Leon has stolen Sams shirts after forgetting to give them back and will most likely do it again

Leon just hates Haley for some reason, he throws mud at her sometimes???

Conk has had WAY too many hair colours and styles through his time of dying it

Conk can play guitar, his skills are rusty but he can do it

Conk has unreadable handwriting

Conk used to have a toxic ex that caused him a lotta pain back in his teens, he has slight trust issues but that did not stop him from falling for Sebastian as quick as he did

Leon really likes fireflies and sometimes catches them in jars bc theyre pretty

(as seen in the comic where his name was introduced n that) Leon hides in cupboards and scares people when they walk past

They both share a love for strawberries

Conk really likes making new outfits

Every bachelor and bachelorette ( - Sam + Conk) has a place in Leons family figure dynamic 

Conks hair is unreasonably fluffy

Leon and Sam sometimes draw stuff together when they have nothing better to do, theyre both sorta good at it too

Leon despises swimming, Conk is the opposite 

Conk is fully transitioned but Leon unfortunately isnt

In addition to the last one, Conk has a savings account with money in it to pay for Leons top surgery, Leon doesnt know it exists

Leon has the worst posture

Conk really likes mushrooms and sometimes talks to Demetrius about them out of pure fascination

If Leon sleeps in past 8am something is wrong

Conk has been underage drinking since age 16

OK THATS ALL I CAN THINK OF FOR NOW GOODNIGHT :DDD

[rachelkaser]

Stay Golden Sunday: Job Hunting

Rose loses her job at the grief center and faces ageism when she searches for a new one. Blanche tries to lose three pounds.

Picture It...

Blanche is cutting vegetables while singing “Sleep, Kentucky Babe.” Sophia comes in (not wearing her glasses, for some reason) and is upset to see there’s no pepperoni in the fridge. She rejects both Blanche’s offer of celery stuffed with cottage cheese and Dorothy’s offer of chicken, as both repeat on her. Blanche, meanwhile, is trying to lose three extra pounds she’s gained.

Rose comes in, distraught (Sophia is, once again, indifferent), and tells the Girls that they’ve closed her grief counseling center. Blanche and Dorothy are immediately concerned that Rose has lost her job, but Rose is more worried about the fact that her former patients won’t have anyone to counsel them anymore. She says she plans to help them find other places to go, and then she’ll focus on finding a job. Dorothy is skeptical.

ROSE: I’m dependable, friendly, loyal, eager. *leaves the kitchen* DOROTHY: That’s great. If she learns to catch a frisbee in her teeth, she can get work as a Golden Retriever.

Later, Dorothy goes out to the lanai to read, and finds a strange man sitting there. He introduces himself as Milton, and Rose arrives to say that Milton is one of her former patients from the center, and even tells Dorothy his whole life story right in front of him. She sends him off and tells him to call her anytime, day or night -- the last three words sending Dorothy into a panic.

Dorothy confronts Rose about her job hunt and Rose says she hasn’t started looking, too preoccupied with helping the center’s patients. Sophia passes her phone messages from the patients and Dorothy gets one from an old high school acquaintance she had a crush on named Barry Glick. He’s visiting Miami and wants to get together, which sends Dorothy over the moon. Rose is drowning in her patients’ despair off to the side.

BLANCHE: I hate phone calls in the middle of the night! Now I’ll never get back to sleep. I’m as jumpy as a virgin at a prison rodeo. DOROTHY: Boy, that’s … pretty jumpy.

Dorothy bangs on Rose’s door that night to wake her, as Milton is calling in the wee hours. Blanche and Dorothy, irritated, retreat to the living room, where Sophia is sitting in the dark, and grouse about the situation -- Blanche has already lost one pound and doesn’t want to eat her insomnia, while Dorothy wants to look good for Barry. They decide to confront Rose, and sit her down when she comes out and tell her she needs to focus on finding a job. Rose tearfully confesses she has been trying to find one, but she’s been rejected after several interviews for her age. Distraught, she runs to her room and slams the door.

Dorothy and Blanche follow Rose to her room to talk to her about the situation. Dorothy tells her she’s recovered from a major life change once, after her husband died and left her as a housewife with no work experience. Rose says she’s older now, and Dorothy offers to help her figure out what she’s doing wrong in the interviews. Rose says she’s got one in the morning for a Hospital Administrator job, and Dorothy reviews her resume -- which stinks. She and Blanche find ways to pad the resume out, giving Rose some more confidence. Unable to fall back asleep, all three go to the kitchen for a snack.

BLANCHE: Oh I can’t fall asleep now. DOROTHY: Still at the rodeo, Blanche? ROSE: I can’t sleep either. Why don’t I make us all some warm milk? After I drink milk, I go right to sleep. BLANCHE: I can think of something else after which I go right to sleep. Huh, Dorothy? DOROTHY: … during.

In the kitchen, they somehow justify getting a three-course meal on the table, including our very first shared cheesecake (and Sophia’s precious pepperoni). Dorothy talks about her date with Barry, and how she wanted him to be her first lover. This leads into a lengthy discussion about their first lovers -- Stan was Dorothy’s, Charlie was Rose’s, and Someone-Whose-Name-Starts-With-B was Blanche’s. Rose’s first time was her wedding night, and she was appalled because she’d never seen a naked man before. Stan convinced Dorothy he was being shipped to Korea and “it would mean so much” and nine months later she gave birth. Rose not-so-subtly hints it took years for her to orgasm during sex, and Blanche is completely baffled, as her Southern heat gave her urges. The Girls transition from a full dinner to a full breakfast.

The next day, Blanche flirts with Milton on the lanai. He tells her to abandon her diet and they agree to a date later. Sophia comes out on the lanai, followed shortly by Dorothy, who says her date with Barry went very well. Blanche wants to know if he lives up to her high school fantasies, but Dorothy replies in the negative: Barry is gay. Sophia claims she’s always known that. Dorothy says at least no other woman can have him either.

SOPHIA: *about Milton* I thought he belonged to the other one. BLANCHE: Well I’m sure Rose won’t mind one bit. SOPHIA: He’s a man. It’s not like sharing a yogurt.

Rose joins them, all smiles. She didn’t get the hospital admin job, but she did find a job when she was out for a float after her failed interview: She’s now a waitress at a coffee shop. It’s not the job Blanche and Dorothy wanted for her, but at least she’ll be working and earning money. They congratulate her. Blanche asks Rose about Milton, and Rose says he’s just her client -- she could never date him, as he’s only interested in fat woman. The episode ends on Blanche’s furious face.

“Hell, if I’m gonna have cookies, I’m gonna have cheesecake!”

Usually, I’m on board with a Golden Girls Very Special Episode when it tackles relevant issues, but something about this episode -- ostensibly one about ageism in the job market -- just doesn’t land particularly well. I didn’t really love it as a child, and I don’t really love it as an adult, but I think it’s for entirely different reasons. I suspect there was some behind-the-scenes drama about this episode I haven’t been able to fully investigate, but suffice to say this episode is a throwback to the beginning of the season, when the show was much less certain of itself. That said, it’s saved from two-slice infamy by some very good lines and gags.

BLANCHE: You probably haven’t noticed it, but I’ve put on three pounds. SOPHIA: On each side.

I’m still not sure why I didn’t like it as a kid -- I think the fact that Sophia, who was my favorite, is in so little of the episode was part of it. Sophia’s role in this episode is basically to make weird remarks and hover on the periphery -- literally in the case of the living room and lanai scenes -- of the episode and make the occasional bon mot. She’s not in the extended kitchen scene where the Girls eat their way through a three-course meal (we’ll get back to that scene in a minute), so I think I was puzzled why this episode forgot about her.

As an adult, I can pinpoint a few more concrete reasons I’m not in love. Keep in mind I’m biased, as I was recently laid off and back on the job market, but I suspect that Rose’s problem might not be ageism. I’m not trying to be mean here, but the problem might be that Rose is trying to find a job with a community college degree and a 32-year gap in work history, and the fact that the episode doesn’t really seem to understand that is a little disconcerting.

ROSE: They closed the center. BLANCHE: Not your grief counseling center? DOROTHY: No, the Kennedy Space Center. She wanted to be the first Lutheran on the Moon.

I don’t plan to fully talk about the episode before the official SGS, but I think it’s necessary to fully give context here: Rose will get another episode based around age discrimination in the job market in Season 5 called “Rose Fights Back.” Suffice to say I think it’s much better than this one, because at least in that episode it makes it clear that the only reason Rose is having problems is because of people’s reaction to her age. But this episode is much less clear, and in fact, based on the one job we see Rose actually applying for, I think she may be aiming a little high here.

To be clear, you can do alright with a Home-Ec degree and business training. There are a lot of jobs you can reasonably get with those qualifications. “Hospital Administrator” isn’t one of them, and Dorothy’s attempts to fluff up Rose’s resume don’t do anything but draw attention to the huge gaps in her work history. “32 years with the same employer?” There is not an interviewer in the world who won’t ask which employer that is, and who is Rose supposed to say? Her husband?

I know I wasn’t alive in the 80s, but I refuse to believe it was so alien a time that someone with Rose’s qualifications would be able to get that job. Heck, if she lived in the modern day, getting a job at the Fountain Rock coffee shop would be a coup.

There are also a few continuity errors in this episode: For starters, Charlie goes from having died 15 years ago to 5 years ago. Rose will later get be a grief counselor with no explanation. I guess it’s possible that she could have gotten another job in the same field, but it’s still jarring that she’s a waitress for all of five minutes.

DOROTHY: I am so glad that my date with Barry is tomorrow. The fat won’t have time to show. ROSE: It won’t? DOROTHY: No, it always takes a few days before it shows. ROSE: Where does it go in the meantime? DOROTHY: To Connecticut! How do I know where it goes? BLANCHE: With me, the minute it goes in my mouth, I balloon up. I can go out to dinner, and in the middle of the meal, my pants are cutting off my circulation so bad my feet are turning blue.

I don’t want to be a Negative Nancy, so I’ll add that everything in this episode is saved by the excellent jokes and lines. Some of the most iconic lines and exchanges happen in this episode, so it’s memorable for that reason alone. The best parts are probably Blanche’s enraged reaction faces, as seen in the image at the top. Also, when I discovered that this was actually the second episode filmed, that explained an awful lot -- for example, why this episode doesn’t balance all four actresses well, why the writing doesn’t feel as concise, and all the continuity errors. Even the way the episode looks makes sense after learning that little tidbit.

As much as I like that scene in the kitchen where the Girls talk about their romantic history -- and also eat their first cheesecake together! -- it really has very little to do with the rest of the episode, and it takes up quite a chunk of time. I guess that’s why I don’t consider this a Very Special Episode: The tone is just a bit too inconsistent. Five minutes after Rose is lamenting that she can’t find a job because of her age, and she’s talking about how it took her five years to have an orgasm with her husband. A different kind of tragedy, to be sure.

BLANCHE: You know, in the South, we mature faster. I think it’s the heat. DOROTHY: I think it’s the gin.

I can’t be certain, but I think there was some behind-the-scenes drama with director Paul Bogart, who was fired shortly after this episode was shot. I can only find a couple of references to this episode in Golden Girls Forever, one of which calls it “troubled.” Don’t take my word as gospel, but it’s what I suspect happened. Bogart was liked by Rue McClanahan and Bea Arthur, but didn’t direct Rose’s character very well, according to Betty White. He wanted her to yell and scream during her big moment, which wasn’t very Rose, but she tried until Jay Sandrich, director of the pilot, took her aside and told her to do it how she felt comfortable. Bogart apparently told the staff (including the writers): “Just give me the show in the beginning of the week, and by the end of the week, you’ll have an Emmy winner.” That boast did not go over well, especially since he didn’t really include the writers or the hands-on producers, and he only directed four episodes.

One last thing: The kitchen scene in this episode was expanded and adapted for the 1988 Royal Variety Performance. In adapting this, they got smart and gave Estelle Getty lines to say. Not only do you get to hear Sophia tell the very posh emcee, “Let’s find a pub and get drunk,” you also get to hear Blanche make her usual joke about watching the changing of the guard. I’ve heard it was the Queen Mother who requested them, as she was a fan. Not only can you see her meeting the Girls backstage, but Sophia even references her when leaving the stage: “Hey, just because you’re over 80 doesn’t mean you can’t go out on the town at night. Just ask that fine-looking lady up there in the expensive seats.”

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰 (three cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite part of the episode:

Sophia’s line, which I’ve quoted more times than I can count:

DOROTHY: Ma, would you get Rose some water? SOPHIA: What is she gonna do with water? Has water ever made you feel better when you were upset? Have you ever heard anyone say, “Thank God, the water’s here?”

[thethirdwheel404]

Med Rewatch Series (#3)

Let’s see what we have on the slate. this should be the premiere of s3: Speak Your Truth. I am watching this during school, so let’s see how bad my focus is.

-the episode description is “The shooting of Dr. Charles moves to the courtroom and things turn complicated for the doctors and nurses of Chicago Med.” so still on brand for being all sorts of vague.

-all that really says is more sarah angst so big sad

-let’s get started

-god back to classic med, starting things off fast, just how i like it

-how tf kellogg live through the headshot. guy can’t do anything right

-connor running towards charles on the guerney screaming “what the hell happened!?” and sharon just being “he got shot.” is so fucking hilarous to me i have no clue why

-oh god i remember how much it bothered me that connor changed his hair from the end of s2 to the start of s3 lol (bc it’s supposed to be the same night, but yk, nitpicking)

-the time jump is such an interesting choice. i remember it was jarring at first. i’m sure i’ll have more to say as the episode goes on

-aw hey guys look its sarah! adorable

-also stoll

-oh god, nat taking a sabbatical was weird

-WHEN SHE LOOKS AT WILL SHE LOOKS LIKE SHE IS IN PAIN IM SCREAMING

-counting

-oh boy watching s3 means i get to watch noah get thrown through a glass door and also be a disappointment

-the way connor is effortlessly charming here in the beginning is maybe the only reason i tolerate his character (also more of sarah being adorable)

-horney boi. stop it.

-noah following after sarah like a lovesick puppy is funny

-sarah saying ‘he’s the reason i went into psych...’ honey, psych is not good for your mental health please stop giving him credit

-HOLD THE FUCK ON?????

-its the s3 premiere and Sarah talks about her dad and her strained relationship, specifically because noah compares charles getting shot to her dad getting shot. but like, foreshadowing... maybe i should give the med writers a smidge more of credit than I have been in terms of planning things...

-sarah: “don’t compare my dad to dr. charles.”

-long sigh. god... sarah being so supportive. and charles just being ‘No???’

-not to be weird but court room scenes always get me feeling some sorta way

-haha its peter stone! remember him? remember chicago justice?

-THE BETRAYAL ON SARAH’S FACE - she cares so much about him and he’s about to get his own shooter acquitted.

-god sarah is just fucking fantastic. she feels so passionately about caring about people

-god charles fucking hates himself so much? he should Not be ava’s mentor

-charles: “I think the shooting is affecting your objectivity.” sarah: “mY oBjECtiViTy?!”

-also they said ‘the fact he was concealing a weapon shows like fear malicious content’ or what ever. and uh,, sarah? please. please, for my sanity. (bc of what happens later in the season)

-charles- you know how you can help me? fuck off.

-lol this kid is the one who had like a tooth ache, and now his brain is rotting or something. probably will happen to me (@ my parents please let me see the dentist)

-this is where doris is like ethan is playing favorites

-the like background noises of the ed calm me down. they prob really shouldn’t

-they’re gonna fuckkkkk

-something to be said about sarah being gung ho about kellogg being off the streets and a danger to society when... her dad...

- I really like when med does the thing when one character is just standing in the ed and they transition to the next story by having the next character run past

-what is with all of the nurses drama like honestly

-hey guys look its ava! (let see if i have enough brain cells to find anything)

-heyyyy look at that. ava trying usurp some of connor’s cases. while, yeah she is being a tad undermining, connor’s gf was literally just discharged from a psych hold. this is just an interaction to keep in mind for future events.

-ava’s playing full cunning while connor’s busy fucking his girlfriend

-dont hate the player man

-because they’re both under latham, they’re more rivals than hero/villain, bc they have a common guy who is their advisor. but yeah. dont hate the player

-robin calling ava ‘cruella’ is making want to throw hands ngl. god dude chill - bc it means either robin just saw ava interacting with people and thought ‘what a bitch’ or connor was complaining about ava and either way I hate it.

-connor broke up with robin bc she was too horneyyy (ik he didn’t break up w her but yk)

-connor - reese interaction was nice. until he started blaming her bruh wtf chilll

-her arguing with connor is like. peak. (ava + sarah teaming up to bully connor and not take any of his shit?? i think yes)

-this ethan april thing is stupid. i’m just gonna say it.

-ava: “that would have been a really great idea if you were trying to kill him.” SHE TAKES NO. SURVIVORS. i love her so much

-YEAH RHODES GET FUCKED! i think one of the reasons ava was disliked at first was bc latham kind of favored her and... literally everyone else favored connor? so get fucked? but here, ava can obviously hold her own and connor is just whining. I’m glad they put them on equal ground bc connor and ava’s direct superior is on ava’s side, and literally everyone else is with connor. AND CONNORS STILL PLAYED AS AN UNDERDOG BC AVA TOOK HIS SURGERY! HOW. infuriating

-anyway, for the purposes of the theory ava is capable enough to hold her own as a stand alone, and clever enough to be entertaining

-holy shit no i think i just remembered how this storyline goes. connor gets a better surgery, right? he gets glory and stuff. this is too fucking rich, come on. let one thing go wrong for him.

-i miss ava

-GOD SARAH LOOKS GOOD IN HER FUCKING BLAZER. unfair. unmatched

-stop it sarah you have anxiety.

-SARAH NO. BABY IS SCARED.

-okay. Ava is half bickering, half flirting with him, a little annoying but we put up with it bc we love her and its not her fault she’s supposed to be his love interest. but still, it’s playful, it’s not neccesarily flirting. conceivably, she could be talking to anybody. But then, she tells him to relax, to take a day off. SHE’S STILL A GOOD PERSON. SHE’S NOT TRYING TO EXPLICITLY SPITE CONNOR, OR ANYONE. that’s what people tend to forget. she’s not malicious.

-connor thinks she is tho. maybe that’s why some people hated her, bc connor hated her

-charles: “kellogg is not a criminal” BRUH HE SHOT YOU

-HOLY SHIT. SHARON RN IS LIKE YOU WANT KELLOGG TO BE FREE BC YOU DIDN’T CATCH THE SIGNS OF A KILLER AND ITS ABOUT YOUR EGO

-AND??? SARAH’S DAD ANYONE? that was why he was so persistent of sarah’s dad. he wanted to catch the signs.

-OKAY HERE. When latham is like, wait, did ava manipulate me? is she actually sus? he was the one person on her side and then boom he sides with connor. literally do you have any idea how great ava would be without connor?

-this manstead thing is soooo exhausting

Okay so what have we learned?

Ava is getting Connor’s cases. kind of rude but also, they’re surgeons? It’s super competitive. AND CONNOR LITERALLY WON THAT ROUND BC LATHAM SWITCHED SIDES???

AND SHE STILL TOLD CONNOR TO GET SLEEP. LIKE SHE WAS BEING NICE WHILE ALSO BEING SNARKY

ava had less lines in the ep than in s2 and honestly. wtf.

not much content, but if you look at her content, come on she’s still amazing.

thanks for sticking through

read the rest here:

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Extra

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION Season 2 ♫ “World Uncertain” [ 2.09 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows) || S2 Tag || Official Page

SPRING CLEANING – The juniors are forced to confront the ramifications of their actions while navigating shaky ground. Valerie comes to New York to spend the break with Isadora, although she may be carrying deeper intentions. Winter melting into spring allows for the chance to begin again.

64 Minutes (17K words) || CONTENT WARNING: mentions of suicide. Take care of yourselves and read with discretion.

[ ← Got A Lotta Livin’ To Do ] [ S2 Synopsis ] [ Rarely Pure and Never Simple → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

The bustle and commute of a brand new work day in Manhattan echoes lightly from all around as a MALE OFFICER emerges from his cruiser. He strides a few feet onto the sidewalk, joining another FEMALE OFFICER standing on the curb.

She’s looking towards the side of the building on the corner, the male officer matching her stance. They don’t look stressed but rather confused -- and in a glimmer here and there, perhaps a bit impressed. Either way, it’s evident they aren’t sure what to make of their latest call.

Upon the brick wall of the establishment across from them, Maya’s emotionally spurred graffiti finally sees the light of day. It’s beautiful and jarring, bright and colorful and eye-catching, yet obviously attempting to convey something heavy. Something larger than life, overwhelming, difficult to capture in words as it is on the canvas of a building.

The word ENOUGH. Embellished and bold and impossible to miss.

The officers stand in front of it, small against its looming presence. As the school bell rings...

INT. AAA - CORY’S CLASSROOM - DAY

Students are transitioning for their next period, CORY MATTHEWS shouting last minute reminders at them as they shuffle out. He specifically mentions the impending spring holiday and urges students not to forget about their reading assignments.

Once the chaos has died down before the next wave of students files in, ISADORA DE LA CRUZ approaches Cory’s desk. He questions what he can do for her.

Isadora: You said that you were hoping someone could… Farkle.

Cory: … yes?

Isadora: [ clearing her throat ] His homework. You said you were wondering if someone could drop his assignments by his place during break. Since he’s coming back next week. Don’t want him falling behind and all that. So I figured I might as well.

Cory: You? You want to --

It’s obvious Isadora is the last person Cory was expecting to volunteer for such a job. But Isadora merely raises an eyebrow at him, so he quickly covers his surprise.

Cory: I just didn’t think you would be the one to -- but, sure. That would be wonderful, thank you, Isadora.

He shifts into gathering the proper materials, offhandedly relaying how much of their new book she should instruct him to read by the time they return. Isadora isn’t listening much, caught up in her own head. Perhaps Cory was a bit right to question her… why is she so intent on volunteering to help Farkle…

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

Who, speaking of, is making his grand return home. After about a month away at a rehabilitation facility, the doormen and wait staff warmly welcome him back as JENNIFER MINKUS leads the way back up to their penthouse accommodations. Handfuls of “welcome back, young Mister Minkus” are thrown in their direction, accompanied by relieved expressions or uncertain smiles as they get a good look at him.

And the reason is clear enough why. As they step back into the familiar entryway and Jennifer immediately starts fussing about getting him settled back in, FARKLE MINKUS takes his time. He drops his bag on the floor, taking a deep breath. And as we pan up from the floor to his face, one change is more prominent than any other.

His hair has been buzzed off. No more obsessive coiff. No more fastidious appearance. No more flyaway mess from pulling on it and running his hands through it too often to repair.

All that’s left is what’s underneath. Clean slate. Fresh start.

Tis the season of rebirth, after all.

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

LUCAS JAMES FRIAR opens his locker, explaining the consequences of his little joy ride last episode after he and Dylan went to court to be sentenced. Whereas Dylan got off on a warning and a minor blemish on his record since he is a minor and merely “an accessory,” Lucas was assigned 70 glorious hours of court-ordered community service to complete.

Still, he’s well aware it could’ve been far worse, especially since he’s already 18 and not as protected by juvenile limitations. It helped that the owner of the car didn’t press charges as nothing was damaged, but he also has the sense that Jack did a lot of negotiating on his behalf.

When she responds, it’s revealed that he is sharing these developments with RILEY MATTHEWS. She’s leaning against the row of lockers next to his, listening intently. She claims that he could easily knock out those service hours during spring break.

Riley: Seventy hours, ten days of break. That’s seven hours a day, which you can easily manage. [ a beat ] In fact, I’ll tag along with you.

Lucas: You do not need to waste your spring break on me.

Riley: It’s not waste, believe me. I could use the excuse to get out of the house, especially with my mom in and out helping move my brother’s things. It’s…

She doesn’t finish the sentence, shaking her head instead. Lucas doesn’t push her, getting the gist anyway. She directs her focus back to him.

Riley: And you know, it’s the least I could do. That night with the --

Lucas, pointedly: Don’t let that be your reason. You don’t owe me anything.

It’s evident Riley disagrees. They hold each other’s gaze. Riley decides not to argue it, but is still determined to join him regardless. She says as such, Lucas shrugging and focusing back on gathering his things.

Lucas: Well, I can’t stop you from blowing your break if that’s what you’re intent on doing.

Riley: Sure can’t. [ with a grin ] Besides, it’ll be fun. I like charity work.

Lucas, deadpan: Oh, I know.

Har har. It takes Riley a moment to get his implications, scowling when she realizes. He can’t help but smile, melting away Riley’s frown in spite of herself. Their smiles linger as Lucas shuts his locker, coinciding with…

INT. AAA - LIBRARY - DAY

CHARLIE GARDNER hitting the spacebar on one of the school computers, deeply concentrated as he scours through the webpages he has open. From an offhand glance, it seems to be a bunch of program websites, an application form or two sprinkled in. Although he’s working fast, he seems pretty intent.

And, well, a bit frantic. A glimmer of that frazzled nature is back in his eyes, making the web search seem far more important than a simple research project.

He jumps when someone calls his name, glancing up only for a moment before swiftly closing all the tabs. CLARISSA CRUZ and HALEY FISHER approach, Haley playfully nudging him and looking over his shoulder to see what he’s working on. He says he was just finishing up, not offering any further explanation.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

As they’re exiting the library, Clarissa asks Charlie if he wants to come to Chubbie’s. They’re doing a sort of kick off for spring break.

Haley: Drowning ourselves in high caloric content, that’s what we’re doing.

Clarissa: As is our right after the hell this semester has been so far.

Darn right, ladies! Charlie starts to respond, but his interest shifts to hesitation as he questions who else is going. They mention Yindra and Nigel, definitely Yogi, maybe Darbs? Although there are some unsure parties, Zay is not mentioned either way.

This seems to be what Charlie was looking for. With no mention of his boyfriend he happily agrees, telling them he’ll meet them there. Once they flutter off, however, his smile falters somewhat. He’s clearly not sure how he feels about anything at this point.

He starts down the hall alone, heading towards a week of freedom from it all.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

ZAY BABINEAUX, meanwhile, is meeting one-on-one with HARPER BURGESS. She’s got a stack of pamphlets and flyers to pass onto him, all opportunities for enrichment programs or auditions he can go out for. She also places a folded paper on top, explaining that its a list of contacts she has in the industry that he could consider reaching out to for guidance.

Harper: You know how it is -- it’s all about who you know.

Zay: Yeah. These are really great, thank you. [ a beat ] Are you sure it’s okay for you to do this? This does seem a little bit like what some might call favoritism.

Harper: Don’t see how it could be favoritism when you’re the only person who has even bothered to ask.

Fair point. Harper reminds Zay that he is more than capable of stepping into the spotlight and making real strides. Going out for these opportunities, as he’s expressed as his intent, is just the first step. He just needs to maintain his laser focus.

Zay: Trust me, I expect I will have far less distraction than usual this break.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Which is exactly what he reiterates to Riley, stuffing the pamphlets into his backpack as they make their way out for the break. He states that if he and Charlie aren’t going to be spending as much time together, then he might as well fill all that time with things that are actually important. Riley questions whether he and Charlie have even like… really discussed what happened -- because she is vague on the details and isn’t quite sure what is up between them -- but Zay waves her off.

Riley: So everything is okay.

Zay: Well… not exactly.

Riley: So you’re breaking up.

Zay: No. Not exactly.

Riley: And when was the last time you talked about this? [ nervously ] When was the last time you talked at all?

Zay, cutting her off: Riley, relax. You’ve already got one complicated relationship dominating your life, don’t let Charlie and me become the same.

Valid, but also a convenient excuse to avoid the topic. Riley relents, instead switching gears and suggesting that if Zay will have so much more time open on his social calendar this week, perhaps he would be able to squeeze in a visit to their absent classmate?

He doesn’t seem to enthused by the prospect, but it’s clear that this is a warpath Riley has been marching on for quite some time now. He reluctantly says he’ll consider it.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Isadora pokes her head in to chat with ERIC MATTHEWS, wishing him a restful break. He returns the sentiment, assuring her that he is heading out of the office shortly after them and will give himself a well-earned respite as well. She also questions how he’s doing this week emotionally, which seems to amuse him.

Eric: You realize this is the fourth time you’ve asked me that this week?

Isadora: [ unfazed, patiently waiting for a response ]

Eric, with a smile: … yes, I’m doing better. Thank you.

Placated for now, Isadora switches gears and asks if there’s anything Eric needs to give to Farkle this break. She’ll be dropping by to take him homework, so she can play messenger for him too if necessary. Eric remembers some flyers he meant to give for him in his preparation for returning to school. As he hands them over, he encourages Isadora to also take this holiday to take a breather. He thinks they all could use it.

Oh, and at the top of that list of people who really need to relax…

INT. AAA - PROP LOFT - DAY

ASHER GARCIA is meticulously arranging items on the shelves, doing his last touch-up organization of the loft before they leave for a week. He’s talking anxiously as he works, rambling about the state of things and how he’s supposed to get everything back in perfect shape. He’s speaking about the order of the prop loft, but that’s not really what he’s speaking about.

And that’s more than clear to DYLAN ORLANDO. He’s seated on the floor in front of the shelves, humoring Asher’s poorly veiled way of discussing how much of a mess everything is in socially removed terms and nodding along. He’s scribbling on a piece of notebook paper, delicately folding it and sliding it into the same cubby hole where Riley found his note in 206. Asher doesn’t notice a thing.

Dylan is smiling as he climbs back to his feet, tackling the discussion head on and explaining the situation from his perspective. He explains to Asher that Lucas was dead serious about their sentencing and took full responsibility for it. He even made a major point about taking all the blame off of Dylan, claiming that it was all him and his friend was only trying to make sure he didn’t get into anymore trouble.

That’s noble, yes, but Asher can’t believe Dylan is so calm about this. How can he not be at all upset? He got arrested.

Dylan: The cause of my impenetrable sense of peace is threefold. [ holding up three fingers ] One, I am a human being capable of making my own decisions. You said so yourself. I knew what I was doing when I agreed to go with Lucas, so it’s not like he’s some incorrigible demon corrupting me and my adorable veneer of innocence and naiveté.

Asher: You’ve been looking at the word of the day calendar, I see.

Dylan: Two. [ dropping a finger ] It really just doesn’t feel like that big a deal. I mean, yes, it’s a big deal that we got arrested and I would not like to repeat that ever again -- not to mention it would be a far bigger deal if I were any other race or gender, because of all the systemic imbalances in the justice system that make it way harder for small crimes to remain small and not totally derail your life when you’re not white and male, which now that I’m thinking about it is really kind of a huge problem that we’re not talking about enough and now I’m starting to get lightheaded -- is this what it feels like to be you all the time?

Asher: Dyl, lighthouse. And yes.

Dylan: Right. Larger sociocultural issues aside, I don’t think it’s worth getting hung up on. It happened, we dealt with it, and now we move on. Things are going to be different, yeah, but things change every day. I think it’s way more important to decide what happens next rather than get stuck on what already did. And, three --

Dylan is down to one finger, which he uses to tap at Asher’s cheek affectionately.

Dylan: All I know is that when all was said and done, Lucas stood up for me. I know he’s going through a lot right now and hasn’t been acting much like himself, but you and I both know that he always looks out for his friends. He never lets anyone else take the fall. That’s still true, and I still think that the person we’ve had as our best friend for three years, faults and all, is who he really is. I believe that, so I’m not going to drop him.

Asher absorbs this, obviously torn. He crosses his arms. Dylan continues, gently taking Asher’s shoulders and getting him to meet his eyes.

Dylan: However… if you decide that you don’t want to deal with it anymore, then that’s okay too. He messed up, and you have every right to decide that you’ve had enough and not forgive him. Or even if you do forgive him, you don’t have to let him back into your life. It’s all up to you, and it’s something that you have to come to on your own I think. Even though --

Asher, under his breath: I hate decisions.

Dylan, without missing a beat: You hate decisions. I know. But you’ll have plenty of time to think about it while you’re with your fam in Florida, and we know you’re an expert at thinking things to death. [ off Asher’s eye roll ] I’m just saying, whatever you choose to do will be the best one for you. I believe that, too. And I’ll support it no matter what… although, I’m pretty sure the best choice will be the right one. I’m not worried.

Asher: You never are. [ off Dylan’s beam ] So… what is the right choice?

As if he’ll give it up that easily. Dylan makes a face, shifting his gaze to the wall behind them as he pretends to be lost in thought. Then he locks eyes with him again, lightly tapping the side of his nose in a knowing gesture.

Dylan lightly taps Asher on the nose as well, grinning and spinning to depart without another word. Asher blinks, obviously still not thrilled with the things he has to contemplate but unable to hold back a smile in his boyfriend’s presence. He makes one last adjustment to the props before following him towards the stepladder.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Lucas arrives in the doorway, no longer sauntering around like he owns the place. Instead he lightly knocks, an awkward gesture considering how unnatural it is.

JACK HUNTER raises his gaze from his work, emotion flitting across his features at the sight of Lucas for a second before he resets to a pleasant, neutral state. Pleasant, but removed, so not really pleasant at all. Not at all like it’s supposed to be.

Jack: Something I can help you with, Mister Friar?

Lucas: [ thrown by the way he addressed him ] … um, yeah. I’m supposed to get the service paperwork from you.

Jack hums, nodding. He rises to his feet and digs through the papers on the cabinet behind his desk. Lucas remains uncertainly in the doorway, twisting his fingers subconsciously.

Jack finds the correct form, crossing the room to hand it to him. Lucas thanks him, Jack offering a polite nod as he heads back to his desk without further ado.

Lucas glances down at the paper, then at Jack settling into his desk again. It’s obvious he wants to say something, anything, but he doesn’t know what. It’s like he’s lost the right to say anything ever again. He retreats sheepishly, disappearing back into the main office.

Jack glances up from his desk, expression betraying his own disappointment. He shakes it off, focusing back on his work.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

Farkle is settling back into the apartment, a bit stiff in it after nearly a month away. He’s set up a home base of sorts in the living room, blankets folded on the opposite end of the couch and a formidable stack of books on the coffee table. He’s dressed more comfortably than he previously allowed, light wash jeans and a hand-me-down Princeton sweatshirt a far cry from blazer glory.

Jennifer is bustling around in the kitchen behind him, relaying all of the details for their upcoming break and his adjustment back home. She mentions the specifics of when Farkle should be taking his medications for stabilizing his body in the aftermath of the attempt, and who will be home when to keep him company (and watch over him).

Jennifer: Lila is on her way back from school now, and Uri will be here after school when I go to work. I’ll be staying mornings. Of course, Darla and Curtis will be checking in periodically throughout the day to see if you need anything --

Farkle: Hence my transition to the public display case of the living room, yes.

Jennifer: You know they appreciate that rather than having to intrude your privacy to enter your room.

Farkle makes a face. It’s a lot of attention, yes, but he also knows exactly why it’s necessary. Regardless of the state he’s in now, he certainly did his part to earn the surveillance.

Jennifer: And Ezekiel is coming back next weekend. He’s going to try and fly home when he can.

Farkle, sheepish: He doesn’t have to do that.

Jennifer: He wants to. He wouldn’t have it any other way, and we’re lucky that we can afford it.

Farkle: He doesn’t -- I mean, no one needs to go to all this trouble. It’s good, I mean, I’m good. I’ll be fine.

Jennifer gives him a smile, gently perching on the arm rest next to him. She takes his chin in her hand, only slightly belittling.

Jennifer: It’s cute that you think I’m going to take your word for it.

Farkle scowls, shrugging out of her grasp. Mostly because he knows she’s right. Jennifer laughs, leaning over to give him a kiss on the top of the head. When she pulls back, the expression on her face grows more serious.

Jennifer: I love you. [ a beat ] I’m very glad you’re home.

A loaded declaration. Farkle’s indignation fades, returning the sincerity despite how out of practice he is.

Farkle, quietly: Me too.

Jennifer smiles lovingly, stroking his cheek once more before jumping to her feet again. She shakes off the heaviness, brightly suggesting the ways that Farkle can enjoy the break home before he returns to school even while being under more careful watch. He’s got that hefty stack of books there, and perhaps there are more people he wants to see? He’s more than welcome to invite some friends over, provided he lets her know.

Farkle doesn’t seem convinced by this prospect.

Farkle, under his breath: Would need some friends first.

Oof. After a month away, Farkle is feeling the sting of his isolation more than ever.

INT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Isadora is also set up on the couch, Blue’s living room acting as her makeshift bedroom while she’s in transition between foster homes. She’s far more settled into her space than Farkle, comfortably flipping through homework when there’s a bold knock on the door.

She doesn’t seem surprised -- and maybe even a bit excited -- as she rises to answer the door. On the other side is VALERIE DE LA CRUZ, looking glamorous as always as she cheerfully greets her daughter.

As she steps inside, BLUE NGUYEN emerges from the hall to the bedroom. She graciously greets him with her high-wattage Hollywood smile, thanking him profusely for allowing her into his house and taking such good care of Isadora. It’s obvious he has no idea how to react to her boisterous presence, accepting the praise with as much poise as he can muster.

Then Valerie is back on Isadora again, already questioning what they should do or how they should spend the week. A delicious dinner to start, perhaps? There’s this upscale place she’s been dying to try on the upper west side -- oh and Blue can come too, of course. Or perhaps a movie, if there’s one Isadora has been dying to see?

Valerie: Of course, you’ll need to clear your calendar for Friday. Very important evening plans.

[ She retrieves three tickets from her purse, handing them over with a mischievous grin and flourish. Isadora takes them, jaw dropping when she reads them. ]

Isadora: Hamilton? You got Hamilton tickets?

Valerie: It was hardly a tizzy. Just called in a favor with Lin -- you know how he was practically begging me to be in In the Heights. Well, he was more than happy to work these out for us. [ brightly ] There’s a third one in there too. I figured you might want to invite one of your friends -- Maya, I would guess? I’m sure she would love to go, even if just for the chance to boast a little bit with your classmates next week. All in good fun, of course.

Isadora, still dazed by the tickets in her hands, claims Maya won’t be able to come. Valerie asks why not, concerned, but Isadora simply states that she’s out of town for the break. Visiting Katy. This only confuses Valerie further, considering how much has happened since her last visit.

Valerie: Well, where on Earth is Katy?

INT. HART FAMILY HOME - NIGHT

KATY HART, dressed plainly and in the midst of helping cook dinner, jogs to answer the urgent knocking at the door. She pushes her hair out of her face, yanking open the door.

Katy: Just a second! Goodness, who the hell --

There on the other side of the door is MAYA HART, weary from a long day of traveling and clutching a suitcase in her hands. She brightens when she sees her mom, effortless smile blooming across her face.

Maya: Sorry. Just couldn’t wait much longer.

From the expression on her face, it’s clear that Katy was not expecting her. But it’s impossible to keep the happy grin off her face, even if mixed with incredulousness. Before she can get a word in edgewise, Maya barrels her with a hug.

Katy’s mother and father emerge from the kitchen, asking who it is and what all the fuss is about. VIVIAN “VIV” HART (60s) is demurely beautiful even with her age, although clearly the authoritative one of the pair of them. HENRY HART (60s), on the other hand, radiates that same bold and upbeat energy that his daughter and granddaughter are so proud of.

Both of them are gleeful to see Maya, rushing over to join in on the welcomes and hugs. She’s whisked into the house without another thought, not sparing a second towards how she got there or what she’s doing there in the first place…

INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Alone” as performed by Young Frankenstein Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus (feat. AAA Juniors)

The dramatic orchestral burst sets the mood in an instant, a spotlight illuminating Farkle standing atop one of the grandiose staircases in the Minkus abode. From the moment he speaks, it’s clear we’re in for a truly theatrical return to form.

Farkle: Oh, Maya, darling Maya, I miss you so much. Life has been absolute -- [ offhand, to DAVE WILLIAMS standing just out of frame ] dry martini, Davis, and I mean dry -- HELL without you. I’m so, so, so --

And thus Farkle launches into the ridiculous soliloquy, sashaying around in a luxurious dress shirt ensemble and dancing with his AAA classmates (sans the other super seven), who have all taken the roles of his wait staff and are dressed in identical uniforms. Some of them really make this look work, like YINDRA AMINO, while others like NIGEL CHEY and NATE MARTINEZ seem unimpressed as to what they’re doing there or why they’re being cast as his butlers.

When he dances with each of them, Asher and Dylan maintain their characterization by looking pretty disturbed in having to interact with him. Still, they all play their parts well, creating an enjoyable and suave support for Farkle’s melodramatic lament. Dave tries his best to give him the perfect martini, but never quite hits the mark.

All that aside, the most important aspect of the number is how good it feels to see Farkle perform again. Not just perform, but be absolutely, wholly over-the-top and ridiculous with an endearing amount of fanfare. This is the Farkle we haven’t seen in quite some time, and it’s nice to see him again as he tilts his head back to the high ceilings and belts out the final notes.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

Even if only in a dream. Farkle is startled awake by peppy knocking at the door, having dozed off amidst his nest of blankets. On the TV, the film version of Young Frankenstein is playing. He struggles to his feet, attempting to shake off the fatigue and put himself back in presentable order. He reaches up to fix his hair on instinct before remembering he barely has any now, huffing and sliding towards the door.

Riley and Lucas are waiting on the other side, Riley offering a warm smile and cheerful greeting. Lucas does neither, keeping his arms crossed and settling for a glare instead. But hey, better than a derisive comment. That's an improvement!

Farkle steps back to allow them in, eyeing Lucas cautiously as they make their way inside. He questions what they’re doing there, which Riley scoffs at as if it’s a silly question. She explains that they wanted to come by and see how he was doing, moving further into the space and immediately going to adjust the blinds and let in more natural light.

Farkle tosses a look to Lucas. That so? Lucas doesn’t comment either way, turning away from him and getting a better look around.

Riley continues to quickly discuss all that’s happened in Farkle’s absence as he wanders over to join her. She mentions that someone will probably bring homework by at some point, and of course everyone is talking here and there about prom. They’ve started decorating for the senior send-off -- crazy how they’ll be seniors in just a couple months, isn’t it?

Riley: I’m glad that all of us will be able to jump into the final year together. [ a beat ] We all miss you.

Farkle, with a snort: Forgive me for not believing you. I’m suicidal, not delusional.

Well… remains to be seen. Riley brushes past the moment, asking how he’s doing and how his time at the hospital was. In a softer voice, she admits that there was a period where her mother considered sending her to some place similar for her depression when she was being bullied in ninth grade, so she’s always wondered. Behind her, Lucas continues to poke around the entryway and dining area with mild interest.

Farkle gives her the basic run down, expressing that while the treatment was fine and the workers were all quite nice, it’s hard to sell it as a desirable place to be when everyone present wants to die.

Farkle: You know, it’s hard to give it its due credit when most of the residents would rather be dead than be there. Literally, in case that point wasn’t clear. Not to mention the feeling of near constant surveillance, which I get, I put it upon myself, but it gets to the point where I was starting to wonder if I would ever be able to even think without the feeling that one of those well-intended nurses would hear my thoughts. It’s been nice to have the freedom of loneliness again, which isn’t something you’d ever think to say.

Riley: Well, that’s good. I guess?

Farkle: As good as it can be. But seriously, you think they’d save the overbearing surveillance for those who truly need it -- speaking of, hey Jackass --

Farkle has shifted his gaze to over Riley’s shoulder, glaring at Lucas. He jumps, spinning from where he’s examining the mantle by the dining table.

Farkle: Don’t you think it’s a bit morally decrepit to steal from the mentally ill?

Lucas scoffs, feigning innocence. He shrugs, crossing his arms in defense.

Lucas: Ha, I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Farkle stares, raising one unimpressed eyebrow. Riley glances over her shoulder to look at him as well, giving him a knowing but more sympathetic grimace / smile.

After a moment of their dual scrutiny, Lucas relents. He scoffs again, pulling a handful of genuine silverware as well as a couple of other trinkets from his pockets and dropping them onto the dining table.

Farkle rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he settles back onto the couch. Riley keeps her eyes on Lucas as he sheepishly comes over to join them, but her disapproval would be more convincing if it wasn’t colored with unintentional fondness. She apologizes on his behalf, expressing that he’s had some trouble with those sort of compulsions lately.

Farkle: Oh, yeah, so I’ve heard. [ to Lucas ] Heard you stole a car.

Lucas, flatly: Maybe.

Riley: Not stole. Borrowed for temporary reckless purposes.

Farkle and Lucas continue to have a back and forth, sharing the same blunt and offhand tone.

Farkle: No keys? Break-in and hotwire?

Lucas: What do you think?

Farkle: BMW? Lexus?

Lucas: Maserati.

Farkle: No kidding. But doesn’t that have that security feature they were hyping to all hell -- ?

Lucas: Doesn’t matter if you disable it first.

Farkle: You can do that?

Lucas: If you know how.

Farkle: … touché. [ looking him over, cracking a smirk ] Well done.

Not the expected response, and a little refreshing. Lucas kind of smiles, but Riley is not thrilled with the exchange.

Riley: Okay, no, do not encourage him. We are not doing this --

Riley takes Lucas by the arms, spinning him and nudging him back towards the door. She tells Farkle that she’ll be sure to call him later, and she tried to talk to their other classmates about swinging by so she’s sure he’ll have company this week. Farkle doesn’t look convinced, but the sentiment is nice enough.

As she disappears into the hall, Farkle calls after her.

Farkle: Riley?

She pokes her head back around the door frame, giving him a look and raising her eyebrows. After a moment, Farkle smiles lightly.

Farkle, softly: Thank you.

This melts whatever chill he put between them from his brazenness with Lucas right quick. She returns the smile, blowing him a light kiss and pulling the door closed behind her.

Farkle releases a sigh, settling back into the couch and the solitude.

INT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Isadora and Valerie are hanging out in the living room, Valerie pacing with restless energy. They’re debating what to do that afternoon, Isadora already showing a sign or two of feeling overwhelmed. She’s happy to have her mother there, but constant interaction can be a lot.

Their conversation is interrupted by a playful knock on the door, Isadora frowning. Valerie asks if she’s expecting anyone else, and Isadora calls back the same question to Blue as she goes to open the door.

On the other side is a delightful surprise, Dylan distracted by taking in the scenery around the apartment until Isadora opens the door fully. He grins wide when they lock eyes, holding a stack of tupperware in his arms.

Isadora: Dylan. What are -- what are you doing here?

Dylan: I wanted to swing by. I hope that’s okay.

Isadora: Sure. Um… what’s with the stuff?

Dylan: Oh, yeah, well --

Dylan adjusts them in his arms, letting out a laugh. Blue joins them in the living area, curious.

Dylan: I know you’re in transition right now and stuff, and with everything going on I figured y’all probably weren’t cooking for yourselves. Ramen is sustenance, but it’ll only last you so long. And I had plenty of time cause of break, so I just threw together a meal or two.

Or ten. It’s a complicated transferral from Dylan’s arms to Isadora’s to make sure nothing gets dropped, Blue jogging over to help.

Dylan: I had Asher write the stickies with the reheat instructions -- his handwriting is way better than mine, so.

Valerie flutters up to the doorway to get a better look, having waited long enough in the shadows. She brightens when she recognizes him, knowing him as one of Isadora’s classmates and eager to engage with another one of her friends. Dylan may not be her biggest fan, but he’s far more adept at feigning friendliness and navigating social situations than say, Lucas.

Valerie: Yes, yes, you were amongst the techies. Am I right? A darling crop of little talents there, I remember.

Dylan: Sure was. It’s great to see you again.

Valerie: I remember, you had on that bright yellow crewneck. Impossible not to make an impression wearing that! And you were always with -- where’s your other friend? The well-dressed, dainty one --

Isadora, apprehensive: Mom --

Dylan, lighting up once he understands: Oh, Asher! My boyfriend. [ off Valerie’s delighted expression ] Yes, I do quite love his little bird bones. He’s on vacation with his family for the break.

Isadora attempts to end the conversation before it can take any negative turns, thanking Dylan for the food and thinking of her.

Valerie: Oh, you have to go so soon?

Isadora: I’m sure he has better things to do.

Dylan, softer: Actually, um, I was kind of hoping we could catch up. [ meeting Isadora’s eyes ] We haven’t had much of a chance to talk, lately.

There’s a pause between them. Isadora seems like that’s something she might like to do too, but with Valerie hanging around them they won’t get to really say much of importance.

Blue steps in, asking Valerie if she might be able to help him get all this food organized and in the fridge. A swoop in rescue if there ever was one.

Blue, pointedly: Might take some time. My fridge could use some reorganizing.

Valerie: Oh, it would be my privilege, Blue. Don’t you worry, I have just the solution. My good friend Marie Kondo is really into this sort of thing, and she gave me an exclusive method I could use --

Valerie trails off as they disappear towards the kitchen, giving Dylan and Isadora space. Isadora watches her go, then turns back to Dylan who offers her a smile. She manages to return it.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

Farkle is in the midst of reading, interrupted by another knock at the door. He shouts for Uri, assuming it’s for him. When no one goes to answer and they knock again, Farkle lets out an annoyed growl and climbs to his feet, dropping his book on the couch.

Farkle: If you’re gonna have people over, the least you could do is not have your ailing brother open the damn --

He cuts himself off when he sees a familiar face on the other side. Clearly not there for Uri.

Farkle: … Zay? What are you doing here?

Zay Babineaux, indeed. He seems a bit uncomfortable as he stands in the fancy hallway, but he made it there regardless.

Zay: Riley is damn hard to disappoint. [ a beat ] You going to let me in?

Farkle steps back, allowing his rival diva into the apartment. Zay is struck by the opulence, jaw dropping open slightly as he takes a look around. He knew Farkle was loaded, but it’s a lot different to see it up close and personal.

Zay bothers to ask how Farkle is doing -- he claims as to be expected, but somewhat better. Dare he admit it, he honestly misses the high energy and constant action of AAA. There’s plenty he doesn’t miss, but the life that seems to pulsate through it every day is a big one.

Farkle: But I’m sure you know that better than I do. I’m sure you’ll probably want to be going soon. People to see, actually healthy relationships to foster.

Zay: To be honest, I don’t think I’m doing much better in that department either.

Farkle blinks, surprised. Zay isn’t looking at him, keeping his gaze trained out the huge wall of windows towards the city. There’s a solemnity to his expression that Farkle hasn’t ever really seen before. Whatever it is that’s weighing him down, it must be important.

The solution, it seems, is to go back to what the two of them do best. Farkle says so. Despite whatever is in flux otherwise, there is one thing that the two of them can control without fail -- their ability to put on a good performance.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “no tears left to cry” as performed by Ariana Grande || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Zay Babineaux

Farkle kicks off the diva number, but it’s not long before Zay joins in. It’s difficult for him to turn down Ariana, after all. It’s the first true Farkle & Zay duet, and their voices clash just enough to create an intriguing, compelling dynamic rather than irritating. Not to mention they both bring the energy, dancing around the spacious penthouse.

Given the space, it’s also the perfect opportunity to pay tribute to the original cinematography. Zay is allowed to temporarily slip into the melodramatic mindspace of Farkle Minkus, the two of them walking on the walls and balancing amongst a penthouse folding in on itself.

The sentiment of the tribute rings strong for both of them. The time for wallowing is over, and they’re both ready to jump back into the ring with stronger motivation than ever before, albeit for quite different reasons.

As the number concludes, Zay collapses into the armchair adjacent to the couch. He catches his breath and commends Farkle for a job well done, as it seems even near death can’t knock him out of performing shape. Farkle admits he has to work extra hard to keep up with him.

The conversation drifts to Zay’s plans for the rest of break, after Farkle flatly states that his spring break basically belongs to the confines of his living room. He explains all of the auditions he’s lined up for future opportunities, vaguely alluding to his change of priority. Farkle doesn’t question it, instead lighting up as he remembers something.

He jumps to his feet, returning from the kitchen a moment later with another pamphlet. He hands it to Zay, stating that he should add that program to his roster for the week. It’s some audition that only folks on a paying list can really get updates about, but he should go for it since Farkle certainly won’t be going up for anything any time soon.

Zay seems hesitant to accept charity from him, but also grateful. He takes it and looks through it, asking if Farkle thinks he should actually do it. Any of it. If it’s even going to be worth it.

Farkle: I don’t know, man. Who knows what’s worth it and what isn’t in this business. It’s all a shot in the dark.

Zay: Yeah, but you’ve always had more luck. You’ve been the golden child since we walked through the doors of Adams freshman year.

Farkle: Yep, totally. I was the million dollar baby -- and yet, I still wanted to kill myself. [ off Zay’s grimace ] I’m just saying, we all have to do everything we can, because talent sure as hell isn’t everything. If you think you need to stretch your network, then by all means, do it. Knowing you, it won’t take long for you to see results.

Zay contemplates this, such a supportive and well-meant notion coming from his formerly feral classmate. He nods a thanks.

Riley, pre-lap: So happy to help. You’re very welcome.

INT. SOUP KITCHEN - DAY

Riley smiles as a customer walks away with their food, working behind the counter at a soup kitchen. She’s got the apron and plastic gloves and all, hair pulled back out of her face in a tight bun. She reaches up to ding the small bell on the countertop in front of them, signaling they’re ready for a new patron.

Lucas is there next to her, also aproned and gloved. He looks less enthused, though he completes the work diligently. He states that if he has to do so much labor with no gain or end goal for himself, then he supposes the fact that it’s helping the less fortunate is something.

Lucas: I don’t even like working for myself. You can imagine my disdain.

Riley: [ rolling her eyes ] You know that whole act doesn’t work on me. The lazy, devil-may-care thing. I know it’s not true, I see right through it.

Lucas: I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not see through.

Riley: You’re a window. An open window.

Lucas: Okay, sure.

Riley: Not even a screen in there. Just wide open, letting in the breeze and the sunshine.

Lucas: See, that’s a very sanguine perception of me. I don’t think you could get popular consensus on that.

Riley gives him a look, the two of them holding one another’s glares again before inevitably breaking into smiles. They get distracted from the moment anyway, duty calling and hungry people waiting to be served. Riley picks the conversation back up again, pointing out that Lucas does in fact gain something from all this work -- the privilege of not going to prison. He claims that would be a gross overreaction anyway.

Riley: Well, you did steal a car.

Lucas: Borrowed. For temporary reckless purposes. [ defensively ] And I was going to give it back.

Riley makes an incredulous face, but once again amusement is hindering its impact. And that makes a difference? Lucas brings it all back to the point, reiterating that while it feels nice to contribute something meaningful, it’s going to be hell getting through an entire week of something so monotonous.

Well, all you need to fix that is a little bit of initiative. Riley says as much, glancing around the shop where people are chowing down and calling to one of the elderly men seated over by the corner table. She requests that he bump the dated jukebox installed to get it going, breathe some life into this place.

Lucas, deadpan: Oh, yes. Music is the solution. How could I have forgotten?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Lady Madonna” as performed by The Beatles || Performed by Riley Matthews (feat. Lucas James Friar)

The popular Beatles tune floats in through the jukebox, the patrons immediately appreciating its upbeat bounce. Riley shakes her shoulders to the beat, grooving in place until the vocals start so she can sing along.

Lucas: And now you’re singing. Okay. Sure.

Despite his commentary, it’s impossible for Lucas not to be endeared by her when she’s being so darn charming. She continues to sing and dance around him regardless of his sarcasm, taking it out into the shop and pulling customers into the fun. They clearly appreciate it, singing along with Riles when she hops up to sit on one of the tables.

She makes her way back over to Lucas at the conclusion of the first verse, taking his hand and pulling him out from behind the counter. As they make their way out of frame…

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

We jump into a quick cut montage of Riley and Lucas making their way through the week doing all sorts of different community service projects. They shelve books at the library, they pick up trash alongside the road. They help fix up housing accommodations that are in disrepair, flicking paint at each other; they’re surrounded by puppies at the animal shelter, where Lucas seems to actually be enjoying what they’re doing.

At the end of the middle transition, the first “see how they run,” Lucas and Riley sing it together while taking a moment of reprieve from running all around town doing good. Lucas seems exhausted, yet Riley’s grin brightens the mood as she spins him around and nudges him back off-screen into the next thing.

INT. SOUP KITCHEN - DAY

Back in the soup kitchen, Riley has pulled Lucas out onto the floor amidst the tables. She pulls him into a simple dance move, a shot focusing on both of their shoes doing the moves across the linoleum floor. Scuffed up black boots and cute doodled-on Keds, moving somewhat in sync and in the same direction.

INT. PUBLIC LIBRARY - DAY

Riley rides on the book cart as Lucas continues to push it through the aisles, picking up the verse again and handing books to Lucas to shelve as they go. The song takes us back through each of their projects one more time, in time with the beat…

INT. SOUP KITCHEN - DAY

Until we end up back behind the counter at the soup kitchen, back to the same old but in admittedly much better spirits than before.

Riley spins around Lucas and ends up back in her spot, exchanging a flirtatious beam with him before reaching up and hitting the bell to signal the end of the number. Ding!

EXT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - DAY

Isadora and Dylan are out on the tiny balcony that can hardly be called a balcony, cramped against the sliding door and sharing the tupperware bin of cookies. Isadora hasn’t indulged in her treat yet, too preoccupied with Dylan’s story as he catches her up on everything that happened, building up to the joy ride. When he finishes, she can only formulate one statement.

Isadora: Holy fucking shit.

Yeah, that about sums it up. Dylan nods in agreement, breaking a piece of his cookie and popping it into his mouth. She attempts to process it all, expressing the same thought that she can’t believe Dylan is being so cool about all of it. He shrugs, Isadora shaking her head and lamenting how shitty Lucas has been, that of course it would culminate in something like this.

Dylan gives the same shorthand defense that he gave to Asher, before pointing out that Isadora is probably speaking way more from her own anger towards Lucas that she’s chosen not to confront nor address for months. It’s a take that floors her to speechlessness, Dylan noticing her shock before shrugging again.

Dylan: Sorry. I’ve been to the clink, I’m a different man now.

At that, Isadora rolls her eyes. But she has to admit that he’s right -- she and Lucas haven’t spoken in months. And even when they were talking, they weren’t really talking. The last time she feels like they really understood another, were really listening, was almost a year ago. And she wouldn’t even know how to communicate with him now.

Dylan states she doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to, but to him it seems like she does. It’s impossible for either of them to move past the way they are right now because there’s no closure. If she gives it one more chance and actually talks about things, then at least she’ll get that.

Dylan: Even if it’s not good, even if it’s the last conversation you ever have, at least it’s something. You’ll be able to clear the air. A certain goodbye is better than endless uncertainty.

Although she seems reluctant, Isadora claims she’ll think about it. She asks how Asher is handling things and if Dylan has made his choices about the whole situation, to which Dylan affirms both. He knows that Asher will make the right choices, and as for himself, he’s never wavered on where he stands. He’s always been an advocate for forgiveness, so long as the action isn’t totally reprehensible. Especially when you love the person who is seeking it.

Isadora absorbs the sentiment, taking a good look at him. Although she doesn’t say it, the softness that shimmers in her features conveys how much she missed Dylan.

Isadora: Since when did you become all wise?

Dylan, earnest: The hour and 13 minutes that I was behind bars really changed me.

She can’t help but laugh, Dylan cracking his delivery to grin. Isadora takes a bite of the cookie, humming in appreciation and nodding.

Isadora, mouth full: This is fucking delicious.

Dylan: Why thank you. And you’re welcome.

EXT. HART FAMILY HOME - HILLSIDE - DAY

A fresh new day. The sun is rising over the hillside, a pleasant breeze blowing the long grass.

Maya stands amidst the fresh air, taking it all in. She’s almost unrecognizable, no longer in her diva best. Fresh-faced with no make-up, money-making hair pulled haphazardly out of her face in a ponytail. Dressed plainly like the rest of the Hart family.

She closes her eyes, inhaling a deep breath. Absorbing the sunshine, the oxygen, the chance to really breathe. You can take the girl out of the theatrical, but you can’t take the theatrical out of the girl.

Then she turns and heads back up the hill towards the house.

INT. HART FAMILY HOME - DAY

Maya steps back inside the house and immediately joins her grandparents at the kitchen table for brunch. Katy and Vivian are just finishing set up the food, all of them settling in to eat. The way Maya interacts with her family is quite different from the way she is at school, but there’s something refreshing about it. In some ways, it might be nice to see her bring some of this energy back to AAA with her.

Still, her grandparents are invested in her dreams and ambitions. They ask Maya how the fancy arts school is going, and she enthusiastically responds with all of the things she’s gotten to accomplish in the last couple years.

Katy attempts to dig for truth again, subtly shifting the conversation to give Maya an opening to speak truthfully. She loves AAA, of course, but Katy is well aware of how complicated everything is within its walls.

It’s obvious she wants to ask about Farkle, but Maya manages to evade the discussion effortlessly. She digs into her breakfast, changing the subject by asking what Vivian and Henry might want to do that afternoon. Katy accepts the shift, but it’s clear she’s not pleased with it.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

It’s Charlie’s turn to make an appearance at the Minkus home. Farkle pulls open the door that morning to find him standing there, a tupperware haul in his arms that could rival Dylan’s. Farkle is stunned to see him, obviously not expecting it.

Charlie greets him, and once Farkle awkwardly invites him in he launches into a swift explanation of each of the dishes his family put together for them. He wraps up by explaining the two large tupperwares on the bottom, where a couple of casseroles have been stored. He mentions one of them containing pork.

Farkle, flatly: We’re kosher.

Charlie, breathless: … oh. Oh. Well, um --

Farkle: It’s fine. Uri is a heathen, he’ll eat anything.

Farkle takes the tupperware from him, inviting Charlie further in as he goes to drop the stuff in the kitchen. He seems less energized today than earlier in the week, operating with a brusque, restless nature instead.

His offhand bluntness doesn’t help Charlie’s nerves. It’s clear he’s glad to be there out of good will, but he moves about the spacious apartment with obvious uncertainty. So Farkle’s sarcasm only adds another unsettling factor.

Farkle: By all means, make yourself comfortable. We can only hope we don’t get smote by a vengeful God --

Charlie: Huh?

Farkle pauses. There’s a subtext to his statement that his knowledge allows him -- Charlie being gay, Farkle having attempted suicide -- but he opts for the more blatant explanation.

Farkle: You know, the subtle differences in our chosen beliefs. Let’s hope your Catholic deity doesn’t kill you for hanging out with a Jew.

Charlie is so scatter-brained he doesn’t even have the energy to care about that take on his religion. He awkwardly brushes it off, settling onto the couch and asking Farkle how he’s doing. They were all worried about him. Farkle obviously doesn’t believe him either, pacing along the carpet as he gives Charlie a similar spiel.

When he turns the tables back on Charlie and asks how things are, he carries the same uncertainty that Zay did a couple of days ago. Farkle picks up on this, smart enough to piece together that something must be going on between the two of them. Sure makes both of their free time to come see him more logical.

It feels like Charlie could use an escape, and honestly in that moment Farkle is feeling the same. He says as much, jumping back into his former frenzied energy and claiming that Charlie should just forget it for now. He claims they should direct their focus into something better, a little practice maybe -- Charlie seems skeptical, wondering if Farkle should maybe like… be resting, but he’s already off and running.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I’m Still Standing” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Charlie Gardner

The rendition is bouncy, fun, and definitely checks off the boxes Farkle was trying to achieve. He and Charlie both pour all of their nervous energy into it, making for a good performance. It’s especially interesting to see the two of them perform together, as it’s essentially a first in AMBITION history.

For as neat as the number is, it comes to a rather abrupt conclusion. Ironically, Farkle grows weary fast and nearly collapses. Charlie immediately drops down next to him and helps pull him back to his feet, moving them back towards the couch while Farkle catches his breath.

Despite how fine he’s attempting to appear, everything Farkle has endured isn’t just going to go away. His choices have consequences, and Charlie is witnessing the exhaustion that comes with it. He braces his shoulder and questions whether he’s okay, or if there’s something he can get him. Rather than answering, Farkle throws a curveball.

Farkle: I’m sorry, Charlie.

Charlie, confused: What? For what?

Farkle, out of breath: You’re a good guy. A little bland, yeah, but you’re good. You really care about people -- even people like me, despite all the shits I gave about that -- and I used to think that was dumb. I figured it made me better than you, but it doesn’t. I’m not. And you’re just as good as the rest of us -- you always have been.

Charlie: … I mean, I didn’t --

Farkle: I just want you to… you’re talented, Charlie. Okay? You’re just as good as anyone else, definitely as much as me. [ locking eyes with him ] I’m really sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren’t.

It seems out of left field, yes. But the origin of it is clear, all of these things that Farkle has been ruminating on but didn’t have the chance to say -- might have never had, if his attempt had succeeded. Now he’s making up for it. Now he’s saying it.

Charlie absorbs the sentiment. Somehow, it’s just what he needed, and means more to him than he could’ve anticipated. He manages a smile, nodding and patting Farkle’s shoulder.

INT. HART FAMILY HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY

Katy finally gets a moment alone with Maya, settling down on the couch with her as she flips through an actual hard copy newspaper. She makes a joke about how those things have real actual stories in them -- who knew? Katy humors it before using it to transition to what she wants to talk about: why Maya came all the way out here to avoid spring break in New York.

Maya, timidly: Isn’t wanting to see you enough?

Katy: Of course, and you know I’m happy you’re here. But I wasn’t born yesterday.

Maya hesitates, perhaps about to really open up… when Henry and Vivian enter to join them. Maya sees their entrance as an opportunity for avoidance, picking the most effective conversation starter she knows -- Katy’s unappreciated talent.

After bringing up how Katy hasn’t performed in a hot minute, it doesn’t take long for the grandparents to jump on the bandwagon despite Katy waving them off. Henry, the artistic of the two, settles in at the piano and claims they can throw something together. Provided it’s something they all know.

Maya: Culturally timeless… you know a thing or two about Hamilton, pops?

Henry: Sweet pea, everyone knows a thing or two about Hamilton.

Maybe so. Maya grins, wiggling her eyebrows at Katy as her mother takes a spot by the piano with Henry. She gives Maya a look, but softens as the soft piano kicks up.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dear Theodosia” as performed by Hamilton Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Katy Hart & Maya Hart (feat. Henry Hart)

Henry’s delicate piano lends a definitive charm to this understated duet, Katy taking the Burr verse. She sings uncertainly at first, but as she looks at Maya and emotes the chorus (“We’ll bleed and fight for you, we’ll make it right for you...”), her lovely voice gains more confidence.

Maya jumps in on the Hamilton verse, her performance a bit more cheeky considering she roped her mother into it. But when they get to the bridge (“My father wasn’t around, I promise I’ll be around for you…”), that devotion and love they have for one another is crystal clear all over again. Maya takes Katy’s hand resting on the piano, linking their fingers.

Henry smiles as he plays along, pride twinkling in his eyes. Vivian watches from the couch, not a creative herself but happy to see her family all together again.

Even in the midst of chaos, there can be moments of beauty.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Valerie and Isadora are out on the town, having just seen a movie together. Despite it being one of Isadora’s interests, Valerie is keeping up a bulk of the discussion. It’s almost incessant, the way she’s all over the place to keep up conversation. She doesn’t notice, but Isadora is definitely starting to feel a bit of drain.

However, some of this exhaustion melts away when they bump into Eric emerging from a store. He greets them both cheerfully, Isadora engaging in conversation with him seemingly much more seamlessly than with Valerie. Eric assures Isadora that he’s quite enjoying his break, and he promises to continue not doing any work while he’s on vacation.

Valerie definitely clocks their playful back and forth, watching them with fascination and a bit of something like envy or disappointment.

INT. MINKUS HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT

LILA MINKUS is present, helping Farkle with his recovery medications and ensuring he takes them properly. Their back and forth is dry and sarcastic as usual, but Lila is operating with slightly more tact than usual. The banter is more sibling-like rather than colored with genuine disdain.

Once he’s finished and subject switches to dinner plans, Lila pauses. Following the same pattern as Farkle earlier, she finds herself blurting out an emotional truth before she can think it through the way she’s used to.

Lila: You know I -- you know I care about you, right?

Farkle: … sure. Yeah.

Lila: I don’t just mean like -- I know we haven’t always been… I care about you. I can’t even imagine… [ voice cracking ] You can’t ever pull shit like this again. Okay, germ? You aren’t leaving us like that.

Farkle seems surprised by the genuine vulnerability. It’s uncommon in their household, but despite the stammering and tripping over words, he understands what she means. He nods.

Farkle: Got it.

Lila nods, managing a tight smile before escaping from the vulnerability. Farkle watches her go, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face as he puts his water glass in the sink.

EXT. HART FAMILY HOME - FRONT PORCH - NIGHT

Maya has retreated to the fresh air again, sitting on the hammock chair on the porch. Katy steps out to join her, quietly settling down next to her. She questions whether or not Maya has had enough dancing around the issues and is ready to talk about them. They exchange a look, Katy quirking an eyebrow knowingly.

It’s hard to hide from Katy. Maya sighs dramatically, Katy breaking into a smile and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Maya, melodramatically: It sure is nice out here in the middle of nowhere. Fresh air, quiet, a strange sort of whimsy that comes from having absolutely nothing to offer. [ sighing ] Perhaps it would be better to retire out here to live out the rest of my days, shelving the glitz and glamour of show business for the humble accommodations of the Vermont hillside.

Katy: You’re a good actress, but you aren’t that good, baby girl.

Point taken. It’s not a convincing option, coming from Maya. Katy redirects the conversation to what Maya might be running from instead, because she knows it has nothing to do with the dream.

Finally, Maya does her best to talk it out. She admits that Farkle will be returning to school next week, and she just needed the chance to get away from it all and really think. She’s not really upset with him anymore -- in some ways she is, but mostly she’s just tired. She wants the theatrics between them to stop, but she doesn’t think she wants to remove him from her life for that to happen. She liked having him as a friend; she misses him, and she doesn’t think she can continue to front that she doesn’t anymore. It’s too exhausting, living as a projection rather than authentically herself.

That being said, she doesn’t want things to follow the same pattern and self-destruct all over again. Something has to give, something has to change if they’re going to be friends again. She isn’t sure what, but she figures it won’t even matter if Farkle himself isn’t open to discussing it or willing to change.

As Katy wisely says, it seems like the next logical thing to do is to bring Farkle back into the conversation. Maybe he isn’t willing to change... or maybe he’s been thinking the exact same things. There’s only one way to find out, even if it’s daunting.

Maya sighs, accepting this as truth. She cuddles closer to her mom, reveling in how nice it feels to have her there with her again.

Maya: I love you, mom.

Katy: I love you, too. Every hour of every day.

She places a kiss on the top of her head, settling into the quiet of the Vermont evening.

EXT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

As they arrive to drop Isadora off, Valerie is already overcompensating for the earlier strain in trying to decide what they’ll do tomorrow. And has Isadora figured out who will be accompanying them on Friday? She doesn’t want to rush her, or anything, but it is coming around the bend.

Socially, Isadora has reached her limit. She sort of snaps at Valerie, stating no, she hasn’t figured it out yet. Things go quiet between them, Isadora sighing and facing towards the door. She opts not to just run from the negativity and tries to be honest with Valerie, expressing that she just needs some space. She’s glad she’s there, she is, but it’s… too much all at once. Maybe some time to herself would help.

Valerie does her best to be okay with it, but it’s evident she’s hurt. She relents, bidding Isadora goodnight and requesting that she reach out when she’s feeling more… interested in being with her again. But no rush.

As Valerie walks off, Isadora watches after her. She’s torn, not satisfied with how that conversation went but also too exhausted to deal with it further. She disappears into the apartment.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Run And Tell That” as performed by Hairspray Original Movie Cast || Performed by Zay Babineaux

The groovy intro floats over the city as a new day starts, zeroing on Zay emerging from the subway as he launches into the first verse. As he runs and dances his way around Manhattan, bystanders seem to join in on the performance and supplement the epic feeling of his progression through the city.

He darts in and out of buildings, sliding onto the stages and giving a flurry of different auditions. His outfit and style shift as he goes, representing the passage of time throughout the week as well as how he presents himself to each opportunity. Regardless, one trait remains the same -- his unmistakable talent.

INT. AUDITORIUM - DAY

When it gets to the Little Inez bridge, it’s not a different performer but rather stands in as Zay’s “audition” piece. And suffice to say, it’s impressive, showing off his energy and overlooked vocal power. About time we saw this spirit again!

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Audition portion completed, Zay bursts back out onto the streets of Manhattan. More and more of the crowd has gotten into the groove, creating a truly vibrant and energetic portrait of the city.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DANCE LOT - DAY

We make a return to a friendly setting to conclude the number, Zay rounding out the performance with his crew of talented and eclectic youth at the dance lot. No Charlie accompanying him this time around, but that doesn’t seem to make a difference. He’s alight with the passion he’s been putting on display all week.

Maybe this is what everything is all about. It’s like he’s gotten so distracted with everything else, he forgot why performing makes him so happy in the first place.

No ignoring it now, that’s for sure. The fellow dancers crowd around and give him welcoming pats on the back and high-fives as he slays the final run. Woo!

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - DAY

Meanwhile, Riley and Lucas are taking a well-needed reprieve from all their court-ordered do-gooding. They’re basically having a lowkey picnic, snacking on a late lunch after another long day of volunteering. Conversation seems to be easy between them, Lucas sprawled on his back and staring at the sky while Riley sits cross-legged an arm’s reach away.

After their chuckles die down from whatever they were talking about previously, Riley states that Lucas was really good at the animal shelter. He definitely has a knack for working with animals, at least far more so than anything else they’ve spent the last week doing.

Lucas: I don’t think it’s hard to show more enthusiasm towards animals than say, trash on the side of the interstate.

Riley: [ nudging him ] I’m serious. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve seen you be that interested in something… like, ever.

Lucas: It’s not my fault most things aren’t interesting. If they want my attention, then they should be better.

Riley shakes her head, biting back a laugh. She tilts her head at him.

Riley: I’m just saying. Maybe this could become something more permanent. You know, when it’s not a punishment for criminal activity. [ a beat, then playful ] Maybe you could get into the habit of actually doing good.

Lucas, thoughtfully: … maybe with you I could.

Oh. That’s not very playful or offhand at all. Lucas realizes his slip up a second too late, glancing nervously at Riley before directing his gaze anywhere but at her. Given that he’s facing the sky, it’s not hard to find other places to look.

But Riley doesn’t miss the moment. She absorbs it, smiling lightly to herself and pressing her lips together to hide it.

After a moment of quiet, Riley starts to broach the topic of how things have been the last few months. She figures it’ll be a touchy subject, but surprisingly, Lucas claims he has something he wants to say about that. She watches him curiously as he pushes himself upright, propping his elbows on his knees and taking a deep breath.

Then he meets her eyes, trying his best to be sincere.

Lucas: I’m sorry. About the way I’ve been acting.

Riley: I get it. There’s been a lot going on.

Lucas: Yeah. But that’s not an excuse. [ a beat ] I think… it just got too easy to deflect. Do you know what I mean? Like things were never good, but then with each thing that got stacked on top of each other in the last month it just felt like another good reason to fall apart. To let another screw go loose, and push away another person who was trying to fix it, until I was standing in the precinct parking lot with a whole bunch of… spare parts, junk, and no clue how they fit together anymore. And I’d done a good job of telling everybody to fuck off, so there’s no one left to help me put things back together. Now I’ve just got to… do it. It just sucks that it took hitting every rock on the way to the bottom for me to realize it.

Riley frowns, sympathetic. But she doesn’t interrupt, letting him work through the feelings on his own.

Lucas: I got there, and now I’ve got to try and fix it, but no amount of reason is a good enough excuse for the way I’ve been treating people. Especially you. [ looking at her ] So I’m genuinely sorry.

An apology was more than Riley was ever expecting, least of all one that feels so honest. There’s a moment of quiet, then she accepts it. They exchange tentative smiles.

Riley questions if he’s planning the same approach for his other friends, to which Lucas sort of laughs and weakly states he doesn’t know who would even count as a friend anymore. She says Asher and Dylan without hesitation, and it’s clear from the way he grows even more timid that they’re at the forefront of his mind.

With a little more nudging, Lucas admits that he doesn’t see what the point is. He was rude to Riley, but he was reprehensible with them. They were there for him and he took advantage of it at every turn, even if he didn’t consciously mean to. After the way they left things, with the things he said to Asher and everything with Dylan and the joy ride…

Lucas, defeated: He’s done. And he should be. [ shaking his head ] He’s never going to forgive me.

Riley understands the hesitation, but she delicately offers a counterpoint.

Riley: Not to sound like the dreamy optimist, but I really wouldn’t be so sure about that.

Lucas: You weren’t there, okay? You don’t know how -- I really fucked up.

Riley: No offense, but I don’t have to have been there to believe that. But I don’t think you’re giving Asher enough credit. I know I don’t know him the way you do, but he doesn’t seem like a particularly vengeful guy. Especially not with someone he loves so much. [ a beat ] You’d be surprised how hard it is to give up on someone you love.

Lucas seems bashful just at the insinuation, still far from comfortable with such open discussions of affection. But perhaps Riley has a point -- she speaks confidently enough, like she knows. He’s certainly listening.

Riley: I’m not giving any guarantees or anything. I just think that, yeah, if you never apologize because you think it’s not even worth it, then Asher definitely will never forgive you. If you never give things the chance to work out, then they won’t.

Something to think about. Lucas contemplates it, seriously considering her point.

INT. HART FAMILY HOME - DAY

Maya finds Vivian in the kitchen, prepping early for dinner. She asks if she wants any help, and Vivian cracks a joke about Maya volunteering to do any sort of housework. Is she sure she’s the same granddaughter she’s always known? Maya rolls her eyes, nudging her playfully before requesting instructions on where she can help.

While they work, Maya takes the opportunity to ask Vivian how she feels about Katy and her current straits. Considering Maya is, perhaps foolishly, trying to do the same thing, does Vivian regret letting Katy try to pursue her dreams rather than doing something more practical?

Vivian prefaces by telling Maya she knows she would never beat around the bush with her. Harts are hearty people, and damn honest at that.

Maya: Believe me, I know. Got a bit of a reputation for it myself.

That aside, Vivian admits that the whole notion of following the artistic dream does feel a bit reckless to her. She’s not a creative person either, so that doesn’t help the mystery of it in her eyes. But that being said… what’s life if not a little bit reckless?

Vivian: I may not get all of the hubbub around the dream, or the passion behind it. But what is the point of life other than to live it? Taking the guaranteed safe route when you believe you could do something more feels a little bit like cheating yourself… especially for someone as hearty as a Hart.

This placates Maya. It’s nice to remember that there are people in her corner all the time, even when they’re not in plain sight right there in front of her. She gives her grandmother a quick kiss on the cheek, then jumps back into dinner prep with the same intensity as a new performance.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

As the week has waned on, Farkle’s energy has come and gone in waves, and presently it’s at a low point. He’s crashed on the couch, eyes glazed over as he watches television. He’s startled by a knock on the door, but he doesn’t make a point of rushing up to get it. When they knock again, Lila emerges from the hall rather than waiting for Farkle to get up and do something about it.

She returns a couple moments later, poking her head in from the entryway.

Lila: Hey. Someone’s here for you.

Farkle, monotonous: Couldn’t be. I don’t have friends.

Lila: You’ve had like five people come by this week. Who were they?

Farkle: Okay. Those were my only friends.

Lila: Would you stop wallowing and just get up? I’m going to let her in either way.

Farkle: You’re the worst sister ever.

Lila: Socialization is good for you.

Isadora, from off-screen: This is ridiculous --

Farkle frowns as he places the familiar voice, turning to look over his shoulder just as Isadora marches into the room. Farkle’s eyes widen and he scrambles to his feet, obviously not expecting to see her at all.

Farkle: Isadora -- Smackle -- what [ adjusting his askew sweatshirt ] what are you doing here?

Isadora, unimpressed: What’s the matter? Did they take away your ability to walk and answer the door for yourself in treatment?

Farkle is speechless, embarrassed. This certainly isn’t the state you want one of your key intellectual rivals to see you in… well, ever. Lila looks back and forth between them, somewhat amused.

Lila: I’ll leave you to it, then. Nice to meet you, Isadora.

Isadora nods to her as Lila disappears back into the hall, snickering to herself.

Farkle and Isadora stand at an impasse for a moment, not sure what to say to one another. Farkle clears his throat, scratching at his neck.

Farkle: You didn’t have to come by. Just because you feel bad.

Isadora: That’s not -- [ scoffing ] that’s not why I came.

Farkle: No?

Isadora: No. I’m here to save your education.

Isadora marches over to him, shoving the homework from Cory into his arms. He manages to catch it, Isadora huffing and pushing past him further into the room. He sorts through the items, realizing that her intentions for visiting were at least partially utilitarian and genuine. He can appreciate that.

Farkle: Oh. Well. Thanks.

Isadora: Uh huh.

He puts down the homework amidst his spread of books on the coffee table, Isadora eyeing them and inching closer to get a better look. She curiously questions how his recovery is going, demonstrating her own knowledge of mental health exposure when she asks if they’re planning to put him on any permanent medication treatment plans.

Farkle flops back onto the couch, shrugging.

Farkle: They’re throwing all of it around. Lexapro. Zoloft. Prozac or Celexa. [ snorting ] You know what I realized? “Farkle” sounds like a drug. I’m a fucking antidepressant.

The problem, he concludes, is that they really don’t know what’s up him, so they’re hesitant to formulate a treatment plan. And makes sense, because he sure as hell doesn’t know what’s up with him either. Guess he’s destined to find out, sooner or later.

Isadora awkwardly wishes him luck with that, Farkle making an unimpressed face. Quiet settles between them -- she’s done her duty, and there’s nothing more to say -- but for some reason she doesn’t rush to leave.

Farkle hardly notices, sort of zoning out. Isadora recognizes the vibe, commenting that it’s okay. Farkle blinks, snapping out of it.

Farkle: Huh?

Isadora: That they’re still there. The… those kind of thoughts. They’re not just going to disappear because you went to one rehab treatment.

Farkle: Auspicious. Thank you.

Isadora: I’m only saying, you don’t have to be back in tip-top tyrant shape right away. You can… take a moment. Remember how to breathe again before you take off running.

Oddly apt to what he’s feeling, even if he’d never vocalize it. He doesn’t seem convinced, but Isadora isn’t going to just say her piece and go. If she’s going to make her point, then she wants to make sure Farkle really hears it.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Here Comes A Thought” as performed by Estelle & AJ Michalka|| Performed by Isadora De La Cruz & Farkle Minkus

With the opening synth, Isadora hesitantly takes a seat closer to Farkle. Her vocals, although strong as usual, also have a softer edge than we’re used to when she performs -- it’s an intimate conversation, still, even in song form.

The whole performance is very lowkey, the two of them simply sitting next to each other, watching each other carefully. Farkle joins in about halfway through, allowing himself to be more open about his mental state for the first time in the episode.

As the song comes to an end, there’s an unusually vulnerable moment shared between the two of them. They hold eye contact, recreating some of that feeling they felt in Eric’s office during group week although no closer to really understanding what it is.

Isadora clears her throat, searching for a change in subject. She nods towards the English homework.

Isadora: Sorry about the book, by the way. It’s a little banged up, but it’s the best I could do.

Farkle reaches for it, taking it in his hands. Pride & Prejudice. A well-worn copy of it, notes and annotations in the margins visible as he flips through it.

Farkle: Cory didn’t give you a school copy?

Isadora: He did… but I’m pretty sure my mom lost it. [ off Farkle’s snort ] She was all excited to enjoy some “truly classic literature” while endeavoring in her “cultured” stay with me, and I haven’t seen it since. So you get my personal copy instead.

Farkle: Oh, big honor.

Isadora: It is. There’s some genius analysis going on in those margins. Not many are so lucky as to get to experience it for themselves.

Farkle chuckles, taking a better look at some of the annotations. Then he manages a smile, holding up the book indicatively.

Farkle: I’m sure your additions will make for an interesting read, if nothing else.

Isadora tentatively returns the smile, edging her way towards the door to go. She hesitates, spinning back around and asking Farkle if he’s busy Friday evening.

Farkle: … I’m a freshly released mental patient who is basically on mother-ordered house arrest. So naturally, I’m booked solid.

Isadora: You’re not aware that I suck at sensing sarcasm, but I’m going to assume that was it. And if you’re not busy… what are your feelings on Hamilton?

INT. SVORSKI’S CAFE - DAY

Friday afternoon, end of break impending. Lucas is sitting alone at a table in the back corner, tapping his fingers nervously on the surface. There’s an iced drink in front of him, but he hasn’t touched it. Every time the cafe door bell jingles he jumps, looking towards the entrance and expecting to see someone important.

It’s always someone else. Lucas deflates after about the third repetition of this, slouching in his seat and dropping his gaze down to the drink in front of him.

The bell jingles again.

This time, it’s Asher pushing his way through the door. Lucas straightens up, swallowing and waiting for Asher to finish scanning the room and find him. He waves at him when they lock eyes, but it sort of looks like an anxious twitch.

Still, he gets the message. After a moment of hesitation, Asher cautiously makes his way through the cafe towards him. He keeps his hands in his coat pockets, on the defensive as he comes to stand at the table.

Lucas greets him, awkwardly standing as well. There’s an uncomfortable moment where they both look at one another, not sure what to do next, before Asher settles in the chair opposite him. Lucas takes that as his cue, dropping back down into his seat as well.

Lucas: I got you a drink. [ sliding the drink across the table ] Peach lemonade. ‘Cause I know you like it. I didn’t add like, sugars or anything, because I wasn’t… well, I figured you would know how you’d want that. If any.

Asher glances down at the drink. He lightly touches the lid, running his fingers along it. Not saying anything.

Lucas stares at him, obviously wishing he would. At a loss for how to proceed tactfully, everything he wants to say tumbles out of him unceremoniously.

Lucas: You were right to get upset. Okay? Believe me, I know that. And I promise, I’m going to pay you back for the bail money. And the hospital bill from my wrist, and… and like, all of it. I’m going to make the money and then I’m going to pay it back.

[ Asher lifts his eyes, watching him uncertainly. Lucas trips over what to say next. ]

Lucas: And I’m done with the stupid stunts. No more pulling Dylan into anything either. And I don’t know if I did any damage to your car -- I don’t think I did -- but like, tell me if I did and I’ll fix it. I’m going to -- I’ll fix it. Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.

Still nothing. Asher is clearly listening, contemplative, but to Lucas it just feels like a wall. He grows more desperate, voice cracking and speech terse as he chokes on the emotion.

Lucas: You’re my best friend. [ a beat ] You’re my best friend, and I’m sorry that I fucked that up. And I know that… I know I can survive without you. Duh. I could do it, if I had to. But… I don’t want to. [ shaking his head ] I don’t want to think about my life without you in it.

The air is heavy with the truth of his words. Asher quietly absorbs them, dipping his head down to look at the drink. A second of silence. Then another. Then another.

Lucas: Okay, I know I just finished saying that you don’t owe me anything and I’m the one groveling but… could you please say something? Maybe?

A few more moments of silence that feel like an eternity. Then, Asher lifts his gaze to meet his. When his speaks, his voice is soft.

Asher, deadpan: You could start by getting me a straw.

Not the most forthright of acceptances, but not a cold dismissal by any means. And humorous, in Asher’s own special way. Lucas laughs, more out of relief that he’s speaking at all.

Asher: … I wasn’t kidding.

Lucas: Oh. Oh! Hold on --

Lucas gets up, grabbing a straw and sliding back into his seat. He waits as Asher unwraps the straw and sticks it into the lid, taking his time.

Before he takes a sip, he meets his eyes again. This time, some of the warm familiarity they share has reappeared.

Asher, quietly: Thanks, meatball.

The nickname is more of a signal than any verbal acceptance of his apology. Lucas cracks another relieved smile, Asher mirroring it lightly as he takes a long sip of the lemonade.

Perhaps all is not broken beyond repair.

EXT. MINKUS BUILDING - NIGHT

Valerie and Isadora are walking Farkle back to his building post-Hamilton, raving about the show and keeping up a relatively consistent chatter. Isadora is doing more observing of her mother and former rival interacting than contributing, but it isn’t an issue this time. And she seems to be enjoying herself nevertheless.

As they stop outside his building, Farkle states that they didn’t have to walk him all this way. Isadora claims actually, they did, as it was part of the requirements for his mother to let him come along with them.

Farkle: Yeah… thanks for inviting me. It was nice to get out of the apartment -- think I was going a little stir crazy.

Valerie: It was our pleasure, truly.

Isadora: Surprisingly.

[ Farkle narrows his eyes at Isadora. She matches the expression, causing him to crack and offer the ghost of a smirk. ]

Valerie: And you’ll be going back to Triple A after this weekend, no? Suppose this could be considered a trial run of some sort. A dress rehearsal!

Farkle: Yes, well, that will be a spectacle all its own, I’m sure. [ to Valerie ] Thank you, again. [ to Isadora, with a nod ] Isadora.

Isadora returns the nod, Farkle heading into the building through the revolving door. Valerie makes an expression at Isadora, raising her eyebrows.

Isadora, genuinely lost: What?

Valerie raises her hands in surrender, although the amusement doesn’t leave her features. Isadora obviously wants to question her, but the more they walk towards the subway the more emboldened Valerie becomes. Before they descend down into the station, she pulls Isadora aside and states there’s something she needs to tell her.

The reason that she came to stay with Isadora for the break wasn’t just because of everything going on here -- though that is part of it, and she’s happy to have been there for Isadora even if she can be a bit much.

Isadora: Well, I wouldn’t say --

Valerie: Oh, don’t try to sugarcoat it. I’m a big celebrity, I can take my share of critique. And I know we aren’t perfectly matched. I can be a lot, certainly more than you’re used to. But we’re improving, aren’t we? Every day.

Isadora can agree with that much. Valerie goes on to explain that she’s been doing a lot of thinking, much contemplation, and part of the reason she came to stay the week was to test the waters of their dynamic in long terms. Because... she hopes to try and get back custody of Isadora so that she never has to deal with this foster care business again. That, and of course, they can be a proper mother and daughter.

Isadora is shocked. At her stunned expression, Valerie quickly begins to articulate all the thought she has put into it. Naturally, she would only pursue it if it’s something Isadora would want… and does she think, maybe, it’s something she would want?

The moments that Isadora hesitates feel unbearable. Then, surprising even herself, she speaks.

Isadora: Yeah. [ a beat ] Yeah. It is. I would.

Valerie takes a moment to absorb it, realizing Isadora has said yes.

Valerie: Yes. Yes!

Valerie takes her hands excitedly, then remembers her discomfort with touch and pulls back. But Isadora mirrors her excitement, choosing to link their hands lightly again. Valerie brightens, launching into all of the wonderful things this could hold for them. Sure, it will require changes, and further understanding of one another as they go, but they have time for that. They have all the time in the world to figure it out.

Regardless, they will have one another. Decisively, like never before.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Stone” as performed by Alessia Cara || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz & Valerie De La Cruz

Valerie launches into the song first, Isadora easing her way into the harmony. Their voices combine in a delicately powerful duet, accented beautifully with the scenery of Manhattan glittering in the night.

They make their way through the streets, somewhat dancing around one another but actually in step for once. Both of them are smiling as well, the true cause of how bright the evening feels.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay is grooving in his room to his own music, laying out and taking stock of all the auditions he went out for over break. He seems proud of himself, as he should be.

DONNA BABINEAUX knocks on the door, Zay stretching to turn down the music. She skims through the papers on his desk, asking what he’s been up to all holiday running in and out. He eagerly tells her all about the stuff he went out for, Donna brightening the more he discusses it. Once he concludes she exchanges a double high-five with him before pulling him into a hug, planting a kiss on top of his head until he manages to shrug away.

Still, Donna is far from oblivious. She innocently questions what brought on this sudden surge of ambition. Zay falters, just for a moment, then maintains his positive demeanor as he shrugs. He claims senior year is right around the corner. May as well start doing all he can to leave an impression.

For now, Donna leaves it be. She reiterates how proud she is of him one more time before telling him goodnight. Alone again, Zay glances at his desk spread again and another smile drifts onto his face. Settling on his bed, he reclines comfortably and shifts to looking at his phone, on instinct going to send a message to Charlie.

Once the message thread is open, however, he freezes. The searing reminder of the state their relationship is in hits him all at once, temporarily forgotten in the hustle of utilizing his spring break. So in some ways, his initial reason for setting out to break ground succeeded -- only it hurts far more to return to reality than he anticipated.

His fingers hesitate over the keyboard, totally at a loss.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

As it turns out, Charlie is feeling the exact same way. He’s at his laptop, message thread open with Zay and trying to figure out what to say. Obviously desperate to say something, but not having any idea how he could.

The indecision will remain for a bit longer. He avoids it again, exiting out of the messages and returning back to his browser. A few of the tabs he had open at school are on screen again, giving us a better look at what he’s actually investigating.

Other arts schools. Transfer applications. The one on screen is for Haverford Prep, but it’s just one of many. It would require a whole other round of auditions all over again, but it’s clear for some reason, he’s putting the option on the table.

Charlie may not fix his problems at all.

He might run instead.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

Farkle opens the door for one final visitor, expression going blank when he locks eyes with Maya. She returns his stare, more prideful in her stature, but clearly there by choice.

Farkle, stunned: Maya.

Maya: … that’s my name, yes. So flattered you remember. [ a beat ] Are you going to invite me in?

Farkle: Oh, uh… yeah. Yes.

Farkle steps back, but Maya hardly waits for him to move. She breezes past him, Farkle somewhat dazed and low energy and nowhere able to battle with her this afternoon.

She enters the living room with more familiarity than any of the other classmates, eyeing the cocoon that Farkle has built for himself on the couch. The reality of his situation dismantles her bold facade, and she only minimally manages to repair it.

Farkle asks Maya how her break was, and she claims refreshing. She fires back the same question to him, and he shrugs indicatively towards the dent on the couch.

Farkle: I’m sure you can imagine.

She can. Silence settles between them, uncertain. Farkle breaks it first, launching into an apology with the same uneasy tempo as when he spoke to Charlie.

Farkle: You have every right to be upset with me. For everything I did. You should hate me, and I would understand it. I should never have let my jealousy dominate my actions, and furthermore, expose a secret you meant to keep under wraps. That you shared with me in confidence --

Maya, resigned: I don’t care about any of that, Farkle.

Farkle: … you… you don’t. You don’t care. No?

Maya hesitates, inhaling a breath. She searches for what she wants to say, crossing her arms.

Maya: The attempt to keep my... financial circumstances a secret was kind of a fool’s bet anyway. It had to come out eventually. And the video was far more embarrassing for you than me -- I think we can agree you more than paid for that.

Farkle doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he doesn’t interrupt. He’s more consumed by how great it is to talk to her again, how it feels to be back on the same page in some shape or form. No longer outcasted from her life, at least for a moment.

Maya: It was just… [ tentative ] I don’t have time to waste. I don’t have time to waste on people who aren’t worth the effort. And I thought -- I’ve had my experience with people who don’t keep their promises. I’ve had enough of it, forever, and so when you couldn’t be there for me and then twisted everything around, even when you said… even when we agreed to drop the antics…

Farkle, softly: I know.

Maya: So I thought the solution was the same. The last time someone hurt me this way, they left, and that solved the problem. I never had to deal with them again because they were out of my life. [ a beat ] Only I’m realizing that didn’t really solve anything. They’re gone, but the hurt is still there. Nothing about that situation is ever going to change, and it’s always going to hurt. Even with time.

Farkle: … but…

Maya: But… maybe, here, things could still change. If we make the right choices, better choices, then no one has to go. [ unusually fragile ] I don’t want you to go.

The additional meaning behind the sentiment goes without saying. Farkle swallows, realizing that the ball in his court now. Maya’s opening the door for him again, conditions attached, and he has to demonstrate that he’s capable of the privilege. That he’s capable of change.

So he tries to communicate it, in the best form of communication they know.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Thinking Of Him / I Miss the Music Reprise” as performed by Curtains Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Maya Hart

A direct parallel to Farkle’s former performance in 204, he kicks off the soft duet with sincerity.

Farkle: What was I thinking when I let you slip away? [ a beat ] Oh, yeah…

He admits all the ways in which he was selfish or misguided in the past year, culminating in that emotional and vulnerable declaration (“But why pretend? I missed the music, I missed my friend”). As Maya joins in, she eases her way back towards him. Both of them end up on the couch, singing in harmony for the first time in what feels like ages.

Maya wraps her arms around his, gently resting her head against his shoulder. A smile slowly blooms across his face, and he allows himself to tilt his head back against hers.

I choose the music I make with you, I love the music I make with you.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Upon return to school from break, Jack is back in his office and going through all of the new correspondence and paperwork that has piled up.

Lucas appears in his doorway, lightly knocking. Jack lifts his gaze, waiting for an explanation without a word. Lucas holds up the community service form, all filled out.

Lucas: Just needs your signature.

Jack nods, gesturing him in as he searches for a pen. Lucas waits patiently as he signs on the bottom to verify the hours, handing it back to him promptly. No praise, no congratulations. Just the expected transaction.

Lucas wasn’t expecting anything else. He folds the paper and starts to back out of the office, about to let that be that. But he hesitates, thinking about the past week and all of the other bold choices he’s had to make.

Lucas: I know I messed up.

Jack stiffens, not expecting there to be more either. He pauses to listen, leveling his gaze to watch Lucas. He keeps his expression politely neutral.

Lucas: Kind of seems like that’s all I do. And maybe it is. [ a beat ] But I’m going to try. I’m gonna make it right. I’m gonna make it up to you. I swear.

Lucas holds his gaze, not flinching away from the honesty. Meaning every word of it, and wanting it to be crystal clear.

Then he exits, not wasting another second. Jack stares at where he left, honestly not anticipating this earnest curveball. He has to blink to shake it off, the process of being emotionally removed no longer so plain and simple as it should be in theory.

He settles into his desk, aiming to distract himself via work instead. As he opens his desktop and goes to their email server, a message in his inbox seems to catch his attention. It’s from Evelyn Rand, school board member, and the subject line is a true attention-getter.

“Did you see this?”

Jack opens the email, skimming the message. From what he can tell, Evelyn has forwarded him a complaint that was filed with them over the course of spring break. It’s leveled against AAA, and the last line of her email stands out in particular.

“They intend to go public with this, from what I understand. What are you planning to do?”

Jack’s neutral demeanor is long gone. He frowns as he opens the attachment she’s sent, waiting impatiently as the compiled report on the complaint loads up. It’s a boisterous, flashy campaign against AAA for their “unfair enrollment procedures,” highlighting how personal favors and “special cases” gain coveted spots rather than hard-working, well-deserved, young talent willing to put in the effort and pay the price of admission.

It’s a smear tactic if there ever was one -- filed by a very indignant family -- but the tactic itself is hardly what causes the concern on Jack’s face. It’s the subject they’ve chosen to be their pièce de résistance, the perfect example of how “corrupt” and “unmerited” the current enrollment is.

Lucas James Friar. His school portrait staring back at Jack from the center of the complaint, promising to be the unwitting key talking point for what might very turn out to be an unpleasant and loudly public Bradford temper tantrum.

Break time is definitely over.

END OF EPISODE.

[southsideserpentkings]

A Child's Trauma, A Father's Care. A Child's Pain, a Father's Devotion.

Relationship: Archie Andrews & Fred Andrews (Familial)

Rating: General / Teen (For reference to abuse in Juvie)

Summary:  “What’s gotten into you lately?” “When I said I fought to survive – I meant it literally.” ~Or~ A moment between Archie and Fred. It occurred to me that no one actually tells Fred that his son was forced into an illegal and violent fighting ring, nor does anyone address the fact that Archie’s outbursts of anger and violence are likely because his coping mechanism had been fighting for his life bare knuckles and bloody, and now he’s expected to cope by just…Readjusting to school life and idle chit-chat??? Yeah, no. My trauma is sooooo mild compared to Archie, and I know that is NOT how that works. So essentially – Archie blows up, again, Fred gets onto him, Archie tells him how he coped, how he can’t cope anymore, and Fred is the most amazing father in Riverdale (I mean he’s Sheriff Stilinski level people).

Tags: Family, Past Child Abuse, Implied Jughead/Archie(/Betty), mild language, an unhealthy coping mechanism, dealing with trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Good Dad Fred Andrews, Angry Archie Andrews, Hurt Archie Andrews, good parenting for once on this show, mid-season 3, after Juvie and Canada.

Ao3 Link: Here

****

Archie wouldn’t say he was proud of the fact that he lost it again, he wouldn’t say he was happy about it either, but then again, he couldn’t say he really had any control over it. He’d never accepted the nonsense excuses offered for Reggie and Chuck and the other teen boys who frequently got into altercations, never believed for a moment that they were incapable of controlling themselves, that anger and violence were to be expected just because they were teenage boys. But he was starting to wonder about Reggie, about his home life and what effect it had on him. The boy was an asshole, no doubt about that, and he wasn’t shy of acting up and boasting loudly, but Archie had a new appreciation, and dislike, for how ugly things inflicted by other people could fester under the surface and bubble up into an uncontrollable eruption. And Reggie, unlike all the others save perhaps Sweet Pea, had more than a few bruises and cutting wounds that suggested some well of poison in their lives.

He hadn’t started swinging this time, that at least he could say, but it didn’t make that much of a difference to the observer, to all those now looking in at the all-American-Golden-Boy that had been Archie Andrews. Some jerk twice his age had thought it was a good idea to step out of the circle of his family and the cushion of the masquerade of suburban life to get in Archie’s face. He thought it was a good idea to stand in the young man’s space and spit degrading filth in his face, to blame him for all the things that went wrong in the last year, to curse at him for ‘attacking and degrading a fine upstanding businessman like Hiram Lodge’, to spit a dozen insults and cutting words from a mouth that had no idea what his last two years had been like. He’d ignored it, tried to at least, turned his back and tried to walk away in silence while his father had attempted to break off the tirade calmly, peacefully.

He’d failed when words about Betty Cooper’s poison influence and Jughead Jones’ inbred filth and Archie’s “perverted obsession” with Hiram Lodge hit his back. He’d felt it turn inside of him, the poison darkness that lay dormant and twisting deep within his core, felt it turn from inky numbing coldness into deep burning anger that reached up to curl around his ribs, filling his chest with the heavy weight of a shifting sea formed from heated venom. He’d felt it reach into his mind, felt it build until it choked off his throat with sickening anger, anger born of pain and survival instincts, sharpened and called on repeatedly and frequently until they couldn’t be shut off, catching him in their stranglehold. He felt it all, the weight of the past years, everything since Geraldine Grundy’s abuses to Veronica’s manipulation to Hiram Lodge’s sick games, felt it fill him until it made him sick, until it left him with nothing but anger, and sickness, and rage, and an instinct to fight, to survive. He felt it build, curl his lips into a snarl, bare his teeth in defiance, turn his body without his conscious thought to face the arrogant ass, sound his voice into a growl behind clenched teeth, raise his arms to shove him backwards. He’d made contact, released primal sounds of aggression, acted in violence before he was able to control the impulse. His father was between them, pushing Archie away from the now blustering and red-faced man, and Archie was backing away, teeth still bared, moving away from them both.

He wasn’t proud of it, hell he hated how easily it happened, hated the constant anger and defensiveness that burrowed in his core, racing through his veins at any altercation. But he had a new appreciation for how other people’s violence could turn from pain into anger, and it made him wonder about Reggie, about Sweet Pea, made him worry for himself, for them both. He wasn’t proud, was truthfully unsettled by the lingering otherness under his skin, at least when he could muster more than numb apathy, but at least he hadn’t started swinging. This time. That was an improvement, even if no one else besides King and Queen could see it, but they weren’t here now. They weren't here to curl around him with unconditional acceptance and care. They weren't here to calm him down in the etherial way only they could. They weren't here to talk sense into him and tell him it would be okay. Their presence wasn't here, and it left Archie feeling ragged and vulnerable. No, now he had only an irate and confused father following him into their home, a few steps behind as they entered their dwelling and started through the kitchen. Archie didn’t know what his destination was, he just wanted to be away from here, away from everything…

“What’s gotten into you, Archie?” He wasn’t used to hearing frustration, much less disappointment, in his father’s tone…he had a sickening feeling he should get used to it. He paused by the kitchen island but didn’t turn around, heard his father come to a stop a few paces behind him, listened with a vacant stare as the questions continued behind him, the elder’s tone pitching closer and closer towards rare anger. “I know the last year hasn’t been easy, I know that, but you can’t keep blowing up at people Son!”

He could feel the itching urge under his skin, nestled into suddenly aching joints, to tap his forefinger and middle finger against the cold marble of the island countertop in a slow, heartbeat-like rhythm. He’d learned long ago, in the dark and cold of iron bars and blood-stained tiles, to quell such ticks, to keep still, to give nothing away. The itch became a painful need, but he stood still, fingers unmoving where they sat, stare beginning to transition from vacant to unfocussed, no longer able to make out the clear lines of the laundry room’s paneled door.

A harsh sigh hissed from between his father’s teeth, and Archie was relatively certain that old and calloused hands were running harshly through thinning red hair, pulling at the roots in frustration. An almost useless attempt at rediverting turbulent emotions away from his son. “Damn it, Archie, I don’t compare people, but I’m at a loss here and I have no clue what else to do. FP got manipulated by a man in power, same as you, got put in a damn jail cell for months, same as you, and he didn’t come out swinging and blowing up into fits of rage! You’ve never been an angry kid- What the hell happened?”

His father rarely cursed, that alone was enough to tell Archie how close to the end of his tether the man was. ‘What happened?’ Surely, he didn’t need him to go through it? FP had gone through a sharp, cut and dry withdrawal from alcoholism, but even then, he’d mostly just sat in a cell. His father couldn’t think that that was the same as… They wouldn’t. Would they? Surely one of them, Jughead, Veronica, FP, Betty, surely at least one of them would have told him. Right? He sighed heavily, the sound suppressed within a still chest and clenched teeth. They would. With all the shit going on, no one had told his father, had they?

“They didn’t tell you, did they? I thought at least one of them would have, at some point.” His voice came out steadily, rough and low like his vocal cords had been redecorated by sandpaper, weary with the weight of too much since the summer that his hometown had turned to hell. He turned towards his father slowly, acutely aware of every ache in his protesting body, the pain of where he was worn down, the phantom pain of injuries that had healed, the jarring pull of all the ones that hadn’t healed correctly, the grating where the pieces no longer fit together properly after one too many traumas. He faced his father and wished to gods he wasn’t sure he believed in anymore that the thousand-yard-stare that he couldn’t shake wasn’t reflecting the weight of everything that had happened, that the closed shutters didn’t reveal the numb apathy, hell-born weariness, and the anger that didn’t have anywhere to go. Wished, for the sake of his father, that all his traumas weren’t revealed in the depths of guarded eyes that no longer shined with childhood joy.

His father wasn’t afraid of him, would never, ever recoil from his son in any form of fear…but recoil he did, uncertainty and wariness clear in the sorrow etched into every line of his face when he met young whiskey eyes turned to rust. His voice, too, was guarded, hesitant and suddenly quiet, as he asked the question he knew he didn’t want the answer to. “Tell me what?”

Archie from two years ago would have moved around, would have changed expression, shifted tone in discomfort and an attempt to either avoid this or lighten the impact. Here and now, he didn’t move, not a muscle shifted in body nor expression. Monotone and rough, he wasn’t sure if his tone failed to reveal his emotions…or if his chest truly was as hollow as it felt. “About Leopold and Loeb. They didn’t tell you.” It wasn’t a question. The confusion tinged in the beginnings of alarm on his father’s face told him the answer. He sighed then, quietly but not softly, and shifted ever so slightly towards his father, resting his weight back on one leg.

“When I told you I fought to survive – I meant it.”

His father’s face contorted into confusion, brow furrowing and lips parting to ask him what he meant, but Archie wasn’t in the mood to play twenty-questions. He didn’t have the wherewithal to make this gentle either, but he didn’t want to draw it out, so straightforward it was.

“Hiram didn’t get me sentenced to his prison, to the warden in his pocket, to gloat from a distance. He did that up close.” He sighed heavily and shifted his weight, the first signs of animation he’d shown since he’d stopped moving “They made us fight.” Well that wasn’t going to cut it, he’d have to say it all now. “In Leopold and Loeb. They backed us into corners to see who defended the others, who fought against the dozen guards given free rein to abuse them, who’d lay down and take it and who’d stand up and defend themselves. Not sure it mattered in the end, they took whomever amused them.”

His father had a queasy look beginning to color his face, and Archie realized all of the sudden how that sentence sounded, what horrors it might lead an uninformed mind to conclude. He almost snorted in laughter when he caught it. That type of shit hadn’t happened since Geraldine Grundy. His words weren’t hurried, each of them slow and steady and marching after the previous ones with unshifting uniformity. All the same, he didn’t have use for dramatic pauses, any more than tonal shifts it seemed.

“Loeb and a handful of other juvie prisons took handfuls of kids and threw us by pairs in an old underground swimming pool, square mat that made no difference tossed over the drain in the center.” His father still looked apprehensive, but it was tinged by confusion rather than disgusted horror now. God, Archie wished he wasn’t about to change that. But he could no more avoid these words than he could bring himself to put any more than cold apathy in his tone.

“They made us fight. Six rounds at least, bare knuckles. Bloody or it didn’t count.” Each word like a bullet, spat out without cushion or coddling. Truth laid bare, chips to fall where they may. Not for lack of care or empathy or sorrow for the pain this would cause his father, but an inability for those things to overrule the apathy that had become his 'normal'. “I always made sure I was the one who bled. Half those guys were put there to be beaten into the tile, and I could take most of them down in a few hits, but that ‘didn’t count’.” He made an aborted half-shrug. “You got knocked down, there was a fair chance you’d be dead when they took you out of the ring. Made losing a bad option. The ‘repercussions’ for ‘disappointing’ the warden that got put on everyone else was a pretty strong motivation too. You won, one of three things happened: You died. You got beaten to a pulp. The others got beaten in your place. I kept winning, I kept getting put in the pit.”

His father was leaning against the wall now, a sick look warring for dominance with shock and horror on his features as he stared at his son like he was just now seeing him for the first time. Two years ago Archie would have moved to him, put a hand on his arm to support him, asked him ‘Dad, are you ok?’ with fluctuating tones that revealed a dozen emotions. Now? He stood broken and still as a crumbling statue, staring ahead with vacant eyes at where his father stood, unable to muster the energy to change his monotone. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He just didn’t know how to be anything other than numb, unless he was angry, anymore.

“It was hell. But part of me wishes I was still there.” Fred Andrews blanched, whole body recoiling in shock at those words, and a small twinge of remorse – likely far bigger than he was capable of feeling – lanced through Archie’s chest. He took a deep breath and steadied himself, made a point to shift his weight back enough so at least some of it was resting on the arm still atop the counter. Attempted to look less like the veteran soldier come home from hell. He met his father’s eyes and offered a silent apology as the first tendrils of frustration and anger began to leak into his tone.

“I trained, I bled, I fought, I survived.” He breathed, calm and deep, control his survival had demanded he learn in every muscle movement. “I don’t know how to cope out here.”

Anger began to swirl in his gut, began to rise up and swell in his hollow chest, and he grit his teeth to bite it down. “Silence was familiar, but it’s oppressive now. Music reminds me of other...unpleasant, things. Running doesn’t help. Punching a bag doesn’t help. Swinging a sledgehammer doesn’t help.” His teeth ground together, his jaws straining as they grit together, the anger he’d been biting down beginning to rear its head, tendrils of it reaching up to light fires in his eyes. “I can’t feel a damn thing anymore other than numbness and a rage that’s settled itself in my bones, anger that flares up when I can’t get this damn restlessness out of my body. It hurts so fucking bad, builds and builds in my bones until it aches, until I want to snap my own bones to get rid of it. But it won’t come out, nothing gets it out of me.” He barked a short, humorless laugh. “Hell, boxing with Sheriff Keller doesn’t even help. It’s controlled, slow, gloved, has too many rules, isn't real, and he wants me to start at the beginning – He’s not wrong, but that type of fighting, it’s the wrong fighting.”

He breathed out fire between clenched teeth, felt the weight of this thing under his skin run through him, forcing him to move for the first time since they got home, sending shockwaves through his body that make him tremble.

“I know I keep blowing up, stupid shit and stupid people making me angry – And there’s no excuse for it, I know that, I’m trying, fuck I’m trying, to control it. But I don’t know how to control this, fuck, this thing that’s gotten shoved between my bones. I’m not allowed what I need, fights like those are illegal for a reason, and damn it, I can’t cope out here! ” His voice had taken a higher pitch toward the end, distress and frustration ringing through clearly as he tried not to fall apart, the ugly truth of the patchwork of his psyche and trauma laid bare.

He was actively trembling now, teeth gritted and bared to the cold night air, tears that stubbornly refused to fall blurring his vision.

Fred hadn’t said anything else, the aggression gone from his form, chased away by horror and sickness, sorrow and rage. Those, too, were fading, becoming a muted background in the shifting earth of the elder's eyes. He straightened from where he’d been leaned against the wall, and somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind Archie marveled at how fathers could do that. How they could look like they had borne the weight of the world and broken under a trial that bent even a titan of old, could move like every fiber of their being was shredded, worn away by life and cruelty alike, and yet still appear as if steel was rigged around their bones, as if they could take the weight of the world and all the cosmos as well with ease, by the force of their will alone. Any frustration or ire he'd felt was gone, locked away behind the unfailing determination and love and care of a father.

He stepped up to his son with slow, measured and sure steps, stood before him and reached out to grasp his hands, used them to pull at him gently, not enough to move him but to ground him while his father looked up at him with earthen eyes turned warm with care, underlined by soft steel manifesting a survivor’s will. “Son…” God, he hadn’t heard a tone like that since he’d been small, ten or so, and had needed his recently separated father to reassure the fears that had manifest into nightmares. He wished he was ten again, back when fondness and patience and the never-ending warmth of his father’s voice telling him he was okay was enough, when the strength shifting beneath it, promising to cradle him and protect him from anything, real or fictitious, had been enough to settle any restlessness in his chest. Calloused hands that had long ago given up music in trade for unforgiving work for the sake of taking care of his family released his own, reached up carefully and gently to cup his jaw. Cradled his face between them, grounded him and urged him to meet older eyes that had seen him grow, had seen too much before him, too much now; eyes that promised the same shield of love and safety that had been promised to a ten-year-old with nightmares that paled in comparison to a now-seventeen-year-old’s reality.

“It’s going to be okay, Archie.” Rough thumbs larger than his own, that could more easily wrap around the neck and strings of a guitar, glanced over his cheeks in a reassuring pattern. He settled, teeth still gritted, eyes still tear-filled, and breaths still hissing out in quiet pain and anger. He settled enough to meet his father’s eyes, enough to lean into the offered embrace. Enough to ground himself in his father’s presence and hear the words uttered in quiet conviction in the space between them. “You’re not alone anymore Arch, we’ll get through this, I promise. It’s going to be okay Son.”

He could feel the urge to shake his head, to deny that, but in the end, he was still only a child, no matter how broken or how badly pieced back together. In the end, he pressed his lips closed tightly as they tried to tremble, he gripped onto his father’s wrists too hard in desperation but wasn’t reprimanded for it. In the end, he crumbled forward and pressed his face into the crook of his father’s neck and shoulder, pressed into him as desperately as a child lost in the seas of fear. In the end, his tears finally fell, born of pain and suffering and anger, and too much time surviving, with quietly gasped breaths of burning air fueling lungs burning in the inferno of his emotions, trying to relieve the pressure of the screams he wasn’t letting out. In the end, Fred Andrews wrapped his arms around Archie and held him, offered a place of refuge and safety as only a father devoted to his child could. He held him close, let him fall apart while he held him together, and devoted himself entirely to healing his son while reassurances and comforts fell from his lips to be muffled in red hair brighter than his own. Archie let himself be ten-years-old again and clung to his father, to safety and love and acceptance and the promise that it would all be okay because his father said so, and Fred vowed silently to make it so.

[imagine-darksiders]

Afterburn

Chapter one - Adjustment period.

Minecraft Story Mode - R O M E O  +  J E S S E 

Words: 12,912

Summary: It’s the day following Jesse’s triumph over the Admin, and in a move that rattled all of Beacon Town, their plucky hero extended a hand of friendship to her former adversary and allowed him to recuperate within the city walls, at least for a time before he would inevitably set out for the Underneath to find Xara. 

Stripped of his powers, confused and ashamed, Romeo must venture out into the city that ultimately hates him in the vague hopes of restoring the hurt he’s caused. The problem is, he doesn’t know how. 

It’s a good thing then, that Jesse does. 

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Tags: Female Jesse; The Admin; Romeo; Radar; Jack; Nurm; Angst; Slowburn; hurt/comfort; budding friendship; Romeo gets protective; impromptu cafe date; villain experiencing real kindness for the fist time in a long time; there is a hug; 

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Alright, so I know this isn’t a Darksiders fic but to be honest, I’ve felt like they’ve been lacking a little recently, so I thought step right away and write something for my second favourite fandom, just to refresh my brain :) I’d love to know your thoughts X

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Power corrupts.

Odd how one little locution could plague the guilty conscience of a man who wholly believed for years that he was the exception to such a rule.

Sitting alone in the dark at the end of a queen-sized bed, the disgraced admin – Romeo – expels a long, pent up sigh, bending forwards until his elbows rest on top of his knees, pale fingers clenched tightly around fistfuls of bouncy, scarlet hair.

The silence of early morning is disturbed only by the rhythmic 'tap,' 'tap,' 'tap,' of his sneaker's heel on the birch wood floor and a whispered word that slips, soft and reverent as a prayer, from his tongue.

“Fred...”

Romeo couldn't tell if the choice in flooring was the reason he'd been given this room, or if it had merely been an unfortunate happenstance that nobody thought of in the midst of yesterday's pandemonium. Not that it particularly mattered, in the end. He was never going to get any sleep in here regardless.

Fred had loved birch. Fred had also been an admin, right there alongside Romeo; the man who was supposed to be his best friend.

Though unlike Romeo, when Fred gained his omnipotence, he had remained completely unaffected by the bewitching delirium that comes with obtaining phenomenal power. Xara too, the third and final admin, had managed to stave off its influence.

Not Romeo, however. The power that came with being an Admin had not only corrupted him, it had shoved and bullied its way between his ribs, sunk its jagged teeth into his heart and clung on with a stubborn fervour that refused to be shaken loose. It turned him into something monstrous and the most harrowing part was, he hadn't even noticed the transition that had been so painfully obvious in hindsight.

A tiny sliver of sunlight finds a gap in the bedroom curtain and creeps steadily across the floor towards Romeo's feet. Absently, he watches its gradual journey, noting with no small degree of nausea that morning has indeed come, despite his efforts to stave it off so he might be allowed to wallow in self pity forever and a day inside this dark room, in the left wing of Jesse's Order Hall.

At the thought of Beacon Town's hero in residence, the former admin tugs a little more sharply on his hair.

Jesse....Her name leaves a bitter taste on the back of his tongue. Not because she had defied all odds and defeated him, turned him from a near–god to the tiny weakling he used to be, so very long ago, but because she – however unintentionally – serves as a glaring reminder of everything he wants to be. Everything he ever wanted to be.

Liked. Loved. Admired...

... A friend.

That's what it was all about. His power mad, envy-driven rampage was simply down to the fact that he wasn't Jesse. And even when he was her, for that briefest of moments, it didn't go as he imagined it would.

When Jesse was Jesse, she was adored. When Romeo was Jesse, somehow he still managed to botch things up and turn that carefully accumulated love into fear and hate.

It wasn't until the end that he recognised the heinousness of his actions - when it was all over and he was staring up at her from the cold, hard ground in terminal space.

Power corrupts. Stripped of it, and he'd been rendered lucid and humble – devastatingly aware of what he'd done under its influence.

At long last, Romeo's fingers disentangle themselves from his hair and he lowers them gently to the dusty pink duvet at his sides.

Already the sunbeam has moved over his shoes and is well on its way up the opposite wall. The ex-admin glares at it with more heat than is really necessary. He can't very well continue to mope around inside this guest room all day, not the room that Jesse always reserves for her friends, if the polaroids scattered on a patch of wall above the headboard are anything to go by.

Romeo had passed several hours last night scouring them, staring up into the beaming face of the hero herself, with her arms slung around the shoulders of a heavy-set man, hair black as an enderman's hide and clad in an emerald green shirt. He towered over the other two; Jesse, and a woman dressed almost exclusively in red, who's eyes were sharp enough to cut diamonds, dark and analytical. Romeo had hardly bothered to learn Axel and Olivia's names in the beginning. They weren't Jesse.

For a long time, he'd stared and stared and stared at the pictures, wondering why he was suddenly hit by a nagging sense of deja vu, and then aghast to lift his fingers and find an unfamiliar wetness forming on his cheeks.

There they were, all three friends. The brains, brawn and in the middle – always in the middle – was the heart. Romeo had had to exercise an extraordinary level of self restraint to keep from tearing those photographs off the wall.

Heaving out a weary sigh, he scrubs a hand over his face and pushes himself off the bed, stretching out a kink in his back with a grunt, knowing he can't continue to delay the inevitable. Eventually, he'll have to wander outside and face the mistrustful, scathing glares of the Beacon Town residents.

...Might as well get it over with.

Smoothing out the wrinkles in his grey t shirt, Romeo sucks down a steadying breath and drags himself over to the door. His hand has just grasped the metal knob when he pauses, bracing himself for...what?

For facing the full extent of what he's done?

For the hateful words whispered behind his back?

For Jesse to turn that unwaveringly patient gaze onto him and ask with a genuine smile, “How did you sleep?” As if he hadn't tried to kill her and her friends on multiple occasions. As if he hadn't tried to bedrock over her whole world like a toddler throwing a tantrum when it didn't get its way.

A groan bubbles up the old admin's throat but he swallows it down, taking in a deep inhale through his nose and letting it out again in a loud, gushing sigh.

Before he can give into the temptation of retreating underneath the duvet again, Romeo sets his jaw, turns the knob and yanks the bedroom door open, stepping out into the wide corridor...

...and straight into Jesse's skittish intern.

The young, bespectacled man had been happily ferrying an enormous stack of build authorisation documents from Jesse's office to the dingy vault down inside a basement beneath the Order Hall. The papers are all a formality, of course. Typically, the hero in residence is more than glad to let people build whatever they want. But apparently, the lack of organisation had vexed Radar so much, he sat down one evening when he had nothing else to do and drafted up records of every past, current and future construction project in Beacon Town. When he handed them to Jesse, she hadn't had the heart to tell him they were a bit redundant.

Unfortunately, the precarious pile was stacked so high, he couldn't see where he was going, relying more on his in-depth knowledge of the hall's layout than his own eyesight. So in choosing to step out into the corridor at that precise second, the ex-admin really threw a wrench in the works.

The intern crashes into Romeo with a sickening crunch, prompting the former to blurt out a yelp as he bounces off a sturdy body and topples backwards, throwing his arms out to catch himself and subsequently scattering his carefully organised paperwork all over the place. He lands on his rear, the impact jarring him and flinging the glasses off his nose where they clatter to the ground at Romeo's feet, who - for a few, terse seconds – remains rooted to the spot, starting down at the boy as a tiny inkling of dread begins to gnaw at his gut.

'Oh no...That's Jesse's intern. I just knocked Jesse's beloved intern to the floor,' he shudders, 'If this is any indication of how my day is going to pan out, I'm heading back to bed.'

Suddenly, Radar lets out a pitiable whine and leans forward to pat around on the carpet in search of his glasses, soft brown eyes squinted harshly under puckered brows. “Oh my gosh! I-I am so sorry.” he stammers, catching the former admin by surprise, “I didn't see you there!” He continues to ramble out apologies, his fingers skirting closer and closer to the glasses but never quite near enough to find them.

It's at that point Romeo realises that the kid has no idea who he'd just crashed into.

Part of him is tempted to quietly slip away so he won't later be accused of picking on the Hero's friend. Glancing over a shoulder, he takes a step back. Then, quite unexpectedly, he's drawn to a halt by one, quiet thought. 'What would Jesse do?'

...Probably something noble, heroic even. Jesse would lift Radar to his feet, brush him down and softly reassure him that it was her fault for walking into him.

The ex admin has to bite down on his tongue to keep a sigh from escaping. Here he is, vowing to be a better person and he can't even nail down the basics. Face burning with shame that the prospect of sneaking away had even occurred, he bends to one knee and gingerly retrieves the boy's spectacles, mumbling, “Here,” and pressing them into Radar's outstretched hands.

“Hey, thanks!” The relief in the young man's voice is palpable as he sits back and hurriedly slides the glasses back into place on his nose, blinking a few times and roving his gaze upwards from a pair of red sneakers. “Sorry for bumping into you. Wasn't really watching where I-” The moment his eyes meet Romeo's jet-black stare, Radar freezes and his words sputter to an abrupt halt whereas the former admin utters a completely ineloquent, “U-um,” before he falls silent, flexing his fingers and glancing between the intern's gaping mouth and the papers littered about on the floor.

Clearing his throat, Romeo tries again, grimacing when it still comes out as a croaky, “Uh..”

Good grief, just yesterday he couldn't shut up, but now it's as though someone has coated his tongue in lead. Radar's face is a confused amalgamation of worry, trepidation and suspicion, but above all, fear.

'They don't love you, they're afraid of you!' Jesse's desperate cry rings in his ears, twisting Romeo's features into a crestfallen frown.

After a moment or two of uncomfortably being subjected to the youngster's guilt-inducing stare, the former admin hesitantly reaches down to offer him a hand, choosing to ignore Radar's less than subtle flinch.

“Here, let me he-”

“NO!”

The blurted exclamation catches Romeo off guard and he jerks his arm back just as the boy lurches forwards and scoops the sheets away, clutching them protectively to his chest, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Uh! I-I mean, I've got this,” he squeaks, ripping his focus away and hurriedly scraping his precious papers together, “You-you should go and find Jesse.”

The intern's reaction shouldn't have stung the way it had, alas, Romeo finds himself wilting at the outright rejection of his offer to help.

Clenching and unclenching his hands, he merely observes as the young man frantically stacks his papers into neat, little piles. All too soon, the quiet becomes too thick and a sudden urge to break it nearly overwhelms the former admin, prompting him to gulp loudly and ask “Jesse....wants to see me?” The heart in his chest gives a resonant buck in the same manner an unruly student's might if they were asked to pay a visit to their headmaster's office.

There's an unexpected degree of apprehension in his tone that gives the intern pause. Glancing up, Radar cocks his head at Jesse's former adversary and chews absentmindedly at his bottom lip. “Um..Not exactly. She told me to tell you – if I saw you – that she's...she's at Nell's house.”

He finally places the last sheet on top of the stack, hefts them all up into his arms and attempts to get to his feet but nearly drops everything all over again when a large, strong hand slips around his skinny wrist. Startled, he jumps at the unexpected contact, fighting against a compulsion to shake himself free as he's gently tugged upright. The instant he's steady on his feet and no longer in danger of tottering backwards under the weight of all those papers, the hand swiftly retracts.

Peering around his pile of documents, Radar gapes after Romeo, who's turned on his heel and is beating a hasty retreat towards the hall's front entrance, head ducked low and hands stuffed into his pockets.

Once their old enemy has disappeared through the doors and they slam shut with an almighty boom, Radar lets out a wheeze and slumps a little on his trembling legs.

------------------

“Jesse, dude? You have outdone yourself once again.”

Nell claps a hand down on the hero's shoulder and the two of them step back to admire the statue sitting on a pedestal just outside Nell's front yard. For the better part of the morning, Jesse had painstakingly set about removing the Admin's handiwork that had been built on top of the original sculpture she'd made specifically to welcome her new friend into Beacon Town.

Wiping her palm through the light sheen of sweat gathered on her forehead, Jesse turns to shoot Nell an apologetic frown. “It's nothing. I'm just sorry I didn't change it back before. But I didn't want to get you in trouble with you-know-who.”

And a good thing too, considering that mere seconds after she'd made the executive decision not to tear down Romeo's statue, the man himself had materialised out of thin air to carry out an impromptu inspection.

“Oh pshaw! Don't sweat it, pal!” she replies, blowing a long, blonde strand of hair out of her face, “You probably did me a solid. No telling what that Admin guy would have done if you'd-” Just then, Nell's voice cuts off and her head snaps to one side, looking past the resident hero at something in the distance. “Uh, oh,” she mutters a moment later, a phrase that send cold fingers of dread creeping up Jesse's spine.

“Uh oh? Nell, you know those are two of my least favourite words.”

But her free-spirited companion is too busy staring apprehensively across the square to respond. Instead, she nods towards the beacon that gave the town its name, her eyes narrowed to soft, blue slits. “Speak of the devil...” she warns.

Jesse follows her line of sight and begins to scan the crowd until she eventually spots a familiar mop of wavy, red hair poking out from behind the monument's low wall.  

Inevitably, there is an instance in which her heart rate quickens at the sight of her former adversary and she has to remind herself – quite forcibly – that he isn't a threat any more.

Stamping down on her gut reaction to move in front of Nell, she raises an arm and waves at him. “Romeo! Over here!”

The ex admin – who until that moment had been lingering beside the beacon, trying to work out how best to approach the hero and her friend – gives a start, glancing left and right as if to make absolutely certain that she was addressing him before hesitantly returning her wave, albeit with far less enthusiasm.

Lowering her arm, she looks back at Nell. “Hey listen, I've gotta scoot, but it was great hanging out.”

“Wait, huh?” Her friend pales, tearing her eyes off the him to gape at Jesse, “Where are you goin'?”

“Got some errands to run. Thought I'd bring Romeo along to lend a hand.”

“....Who's Romeo?”

Jesse blinks, suddenly remembering that most of the town still only knows him as The Admin, and if he was ever going to be accepted, she would have to rectify that. “That's Romeo.” She juts her chin at the man standing beside the beacon, almost as though he's afraid that moving will provoke a nearby citizen to spontaneously attack. “He doesn't go by Admin anymore..”

Nell is quiet, wrinkling her nose and slowly blinking at the smaller woman. “...Seriously?” she says after a while, “Dude's name is Romeo?”

Huffing out a soft laugh, Jesse shakes her head and lightly touches her friend's shoulder in farewell. “You'll get used to it. I'll see you around, okay?” And with that, she turns on her heel and makes off towards Romeo. All of a sudden, a hand grasps her upper arm and pulls her to an unsteady halt, prompting her to glance back over her shoulder, one, dark eyebrow raised expectantly. “Um..Yeah?”

Nell promptly leans closer and puts her lips up to Jesse's ear, whispering into it consiprationally whilst keeping a flinty glare aimed in Romeo's direction. “Uh, Jesse? Pal. Now, I know you can handle yourself, but are you sure you wanna be..like.. alone with that guy?”

They both return their attention to the man in question and notice how he's hunched in on himself, eyes cast to the stone underfoot as a last measure of defence against the disdainful glares shot his way by nearly every Beacon Towner in his vicinity. Jesse notes – with a strange concoction of satisfaction and concern – that he seems a lot...smaller than he had been before.

Hooking her thumbs into the straps of her dungarees, the hero flashes Nell her trademark, reassuring grin.

“You don't have to worry. Romeo isn't the Admin anymore. And besides-” Her grin softens as she flicks her eyes back over at him. “- He's not gonna hurt me. I think he really wants to try and make up for what he's done.

Nell, however, doesn't look so convinced. This time though, she refrains from pulling Jesse back when the hero throws a farewell over her shoulder and strides across the square, meeting him halfway.

Pulling her lips into a tight line, Nell murmurs, “Man, I hope you're right, Jess. For your sake.”

The moment he sees Jesse move away from her friend, the former admin tenses, limbs locking up at his sides and he swallows, trying to gauge if her approach is threatening or not. Cautiously he observes her, privately marvelling at the openness of her face.

The corners of her mouth are turned up into an easy smile and her large, too-trusting eyes no longer burn with that ferocious determination he'd been privy to as her enemy. Now, as she draws nearer, he can make out the smudged khol still muddying the skin beneath her eyelids, evidence that she'd been too exhausted last night after her long ordeal to bother removing the make up before bed and there are even faint, red veins zigzagging across her sclera. Despite the airy smile plastered on her face, there's a shadow hanging over her, and a sluggishness to her gait that he hasn't seen before. Either she's been awake since the wee hours, or – like him – she'd hardly slept at all.

Both notions twist his stomach into remorseful knots.

“Hey, Romeo.”

He stiffens, blanching as he realises he'd been caught staring at her eyes while she made her way over to him.

With more effort than should really be necessary, Romeo blinks. “Oh, Jesse!” he blurts out, as though he's surprised to find her here at all, “Fancy running into you!”

The hero stops just shy of a metre from him, hesitates, and then takes another step closer. The gesture – though small – doesn't go unnoticed and his lips give an appreciative twitch.

“Yeah, sorry. Thought I'd get an early start on fixing some stuff around town,” she says, curling her fingers around a stray lock of hair and tucking it behind her ear. “Did Radar find you?”

She gestures down the road he'd just come from and beckons him to follow.

Hesitating for a second, he watches her stroll past him. Then, shaking his head, he hurries along after, easily matching her pace wit his far longer legs. “Yep,” he tries for a laugh that ends up sounding forced, “Jittery little fellow, isn't he? Said I might find you out here, talking to ol' Nellie.” He glances back to see the blonde watching him like a hawk, arms folded across her chest. “Good, uh..Good sort, that one.”

“Who, Nell? Yeah, she's good people. So glad she decided to settle down here. Radar too! I don't know what I'd do without him around. Probably forget a lot of social obligations for a start.”

Narrowly avoiding a painful collision with an exceptionally cross-looking woman's shoulder, he echos, “Social obligations?”

“Oh, that's Radar's way of trying to make mayoral responsibilities sound fun,” she explains breezily, “It's just stuff like, attending town meetings, overseeing build contests. Dinner parties, dance parties...”

“Sounds exhausting,” he admits, recalling the few days he'd tried being Jesse. The demand for his attention had bordered on oppressive and he'd only been subjected to it for a fraction of the time she had.

A trio of parrots that had busied themselves by idly hopping around the path in search of dropped food suddenly take to the sky at their approach. Jesse regards them wistfully, exhaling through her nose before she offers a response. “It's not so bad really. You get used to it.”

Romeo hums, scrutinising her from the corner of his eye. She doesn't sound as though she's used to it. In fact, she sounds like she wants to sprout wings and fly away with the rest of the birds.

She confirms his suspicions a moment later by quietly admitting, “I do miss being able to just go on adventures whenever I want. I'm not as...free as I was a couple of years ago.”  

Once again, Romeo finds himself unable to offer little more than an evasive grunt, uncertain of how he ought to reply. In truth, he's distracted.

She fell into a conversation with him far too quickly and easily, she has yet to bring up the reason she brought him out here, nor where they're currently heading. And not once has she sent him the same, heated glare he seems to be receiving from every other person in town. To say his nerves are frayed would be an understatement. Romeo can't remember ever feeling so on edge, suspended in a state where he's perpetually braced for something bad to happen.

He very nearly asks her to just get it over with and start laying into him about what a terrible person he is, but at that moment, they turn a corner and his attention is immediately diverted elsewhere.

They've emerged onto a busy street, lined with quaint little cafes and general traders where the atmosphere is made bright and airy by slats of early morning sunlight that break through gaps in overhead structures to warm the stone beneath their feet.

Romeo's mouth falls open comically wide. “They've rebuilt so much already?”

It isn't difficult to detect the pride in Jesse's voice as she leads him towards a cafe at the very end of the road. “Yep, everyone here was super keen to get the town back to normal after – uh....” Awkwardly, she trails off, biting her lip and sending her former nemesis a sidelong grimace.

“After I destroyed it,” he finishes for her, his expression neutral, although she can see the tightness in his jaw.

“Hey now, you didn't... completely destroy it,” she offers lamely, hurrying past a house in the process of having it's entire roof reconstructed, “You just...sort of...revamped it. Yeah!” Smile renewed, she sweeps an arm out at the surroundings. “I mean, lose the golem guards, a few less fires and take away the threat of being zapped into a cage at a moment's notice-”

At her side, Romeo winces miserably.

“- and Beacon Town is pretty much back to normal.”

He gives her an incredulous squint, unable to stop a derisive snort from jumping out of his nose. “Sorry, normal? Are you forgetting about the ginormous, horrifyingly daunting tower of colossal proportions up there?” he huffs, throwing a hand up to indicate the structure looming over the rest of Beacon Town, casting its long shadow out over the western forest.

The Admin Tower. A monument he'd built as a show of his power and talent. It had seemed so impressive once. Now, he can hardly stand to look at the damn thing, standing there in all its ostentatiousness, his magnum opus that perfectly reflected its gaudy creator.

Jesse, however, appears to have a different opinion. “Okay, I didn't want to tell you this while you were...the old you,” she says behind her hand in a hushed tone, leaning close enough for him to catch a whiff of the sandalwood shampoo she uses, “But that tower? It's pretty mind blowing.”

“Mind blo- whu-?” Apparently, 'mind blowing' was the most apropos term she could have used. Tripping over his own tongue, Romeo nearly walks into a wooden chair sitting just outside the cafe they'd been heading towards, where small, square tables are dotted about and several bunches of daffodils rest in glass vases at the centre of each.

Casually, Jesse makes her way around the table and tugs out a chair on his opposite side, sitting herself down whilst he simply gawks at her, incredulous. “You...you like my build?” he breathes, his body moving of its own accord until he finds himself seated on his own chair without really registering the motion.

“Well, yeah! Why did you think we decided not to tear it down?” Jesse raises an arm to wave at someone behind him, though he's too taken aback to try and see who. “You were a jerk, sure. But that doesn't mean your builds weren't incredible! That icy palace of doom?” She leans forwards to rest her elbows on the table and sends him a pointed look, “Horrifying, don't get me wrong. But, credit where it's due – it was pretty awesome.”

The former admin's heart leaps into his throat, breath hitching at the approval she'd just hit him with.

“I still can't believe you built all that, just for me.” She shakes her head and her smile falters for a fraction of a second, a pensive frown darkening her eyes.

Momentarily, Romeo has to wonder why she'd think he wouldn't build something like that for a friend, but just as he opens his mouth to reply, he's cut off by the sound of a throat being cleared sharply to his right. Startled, he jerks his head around to see who'd rudely interrupted the conversation and nearly jumps out of his skin as a folded menu is brusquely shoved into his hands.

Standing over them, eyebrows slanted sharply in a seemingly permanent scowl, is a fair-haired man wearing a bright, green pinafore, his lips stretching into a tight smile which looks a hell of a lot more genuine when he turns it onto Jesse.

“Always good to see you, Jesse,” he drawls, handing her another menu, “We may not be back up to full efficiency just yet, but thanks to you, we're at least open for business.”

Ducking her head and lifting one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug, she replies, “Ah, it wasn't all me. Everyone's been pitching in to help get the city back to normal.”

“Indeed,” the waiter sniffs and pauses until she begins glancing over the menu before he throws Romeo a look dirty enough to stain, “Well...Almost everyo-”

“I think I'll have the rabbit stew!” A vicious glare accompanies Jesse's snapped interruption, though both are so out of place for the amicable hero, the men have to do a double take just to make sure it had been her who spoke.

After a brief second of stunned silence, the waiter gives a start and fumbles for his notepad, swiftly jotting down her order. “O-of course, rabbit stew. We can do that!” Turning hesitantly towards the former admin, the man whispers down to her, “And...uh...What'll he have?”

A rush of irritation tickles at the back of Romeo's mind, bridling at the waiter's attitude. However, the glimmer of anxiousness that flashes across Jesse's face catches his eye and quells that surge of aggression.

'You asked for this,' he reminds himself dismally, swallowing down the anger, 'However they treat you, that's on you.'

Sucking in a breath, he tries to respond when he realises there's a problem: He has no idea what's on the menu. He hasn't even looked at it.

Come to think of it, when was the last time he actually ate anything?

As an admin, he had no need for sustenance.

Now that he's normal though...

Romeo peers inquisitively at the dark-haired woman sitting opposite and cocks his head to one side, struck by a sneaking suspicion that she'd had a similar thought at some point or another. Why else would she bring him here?

Conscious that he still hasn't provided an answer, he settles to offer up a tiny shrug and utters, “Same as her.”

Clearly taken aback, the waiter's eyebrows shoot up his forehead and nearly disappear beneath his wispy, brown fringe. In the end though, he nods and all but snatches the menu out of Romeo's hands, taking Jesse's too before he bustles off back through the door leading into his cafe.

Once the little bell hanging above the entrance stops tinkling, the hero deflates, slumping forwards over the table and covering her face with her hands.

“I am...so sorry about that,” she moans.

“Why are you sorry?” he asks, somewhat bitterly, “You didn't seriously expect it to be any different, did you? Not after how I...how I behaved.” Raising his eyes to the street, he counts no less than seven people who're trying to look busy while simultaneously throwing him wary glances every now and again.  “I mean, it's hardly any wonder most of Beacon Town wants me gone...And I don't think they're very happy that you-” He jabs a slender finger across the table at her. “- decided to let me stay for a while.”

Pressing her lips together, Jesse frowns, cautiously venturing, “You know, Romeo...If you want to leave, I'm not going to stop you. The gate's right there. I just -” She heaves out a sigh. “- I know what it's like down there, in the Underneath. You do not wanna be there unprepared. I thought that, if you're really going to go and find Xara, you should at least wait until you get your strength back.”

Stubbornly folding his arms across his chest, he grumbles, “M'already strong.”

“You went from having god-like powers to having no powers at all.” Jesse drops her eyelids and levels a skeptical look his way. “Trust me. There'll be an adjustment period.”

And because she sounds as though she knows what she's talking about, because her eyes betray no disdain yet still make him feel about an inch tall despite being thousands of years her senior, Romeo doesn't argue - doesn't see any reason to. She's right. Loathe as he is to admit it, he isn't the same, powerful creator of worlds anymore, and that thought both comforts and terrifies him.

He meant what he'd said in the Terminal; that without his power, he's nothing – less than nothing. Just a shell of his former self.

For a while, they simply observe one another across the table, Romeo's hands slowly closing into fists atop the cloth. There's an apprehensive tension choking the air around him, borne of his own bewilderment.

Why is she acting like this? Why isn't she addressing the elephant in the room? How can she sit there in front of him – all smiles and impeccable manners – and imply that she gives a hoot about what happens to him? That's something friends do. And he and Jesse are not friends. He ruined any and all chance of that by being utterly monstrous to her.

Heart in his throat and now on his sleeve, Romeo suddenly heaves himself halfway out of his chair, knocking it back a few feet.

Jesse blinks, but doesn't otherwise react as he stares her down, unaware of the tremor in his arms that are braced against the tabletop. “Alright! That's it!” he blurts out, “I can't take anymore of this!” Through gritted teeth he chokes out, “Why are you being so. Bloody. Nice!?” He punctuates the final word by slamming a fist down, rattling the flowers in their glass jar.

Over his rapid intakes and exhales, he notices that the whole street has gone deathly silent, and he doesn't need to look to know that everyone is staring at him, watching with baited breath to see if they need to step in and defend their beloved leader who has the ex admin locked in her tired, green gaze.

It's under that gaze that he finally begins to wither, the frustration leaving him like water from a leaky pail.

Jesse lowers her eyes and he finds himself moving down with them, sinking back into his chair as his mouth opens and closes around an apology, never quite finding the courage to break the spell of quiet. He wishes she would though. It's becoming unbearably thick.

All of a sudden, the bell above the cafe door rings loudly and he jumps, shoulders tensing when the waiter approaches their table with two, steaming dishes of stew balanced in each hand.

“Sorry for the delay,”he says, setting one dish in front of Jesse and promptly dropping Romeo's in his place, mindless of the stew that sloshes dangerously close to the rim, “Will that be everything?”

At last taking her eyes off the former admin, she turns a smile up at the waiter and nods. “That's great, thanks.”

“Well...You let me know if you need anything.”

Romeo has a feeling that the offer doesn't extend to him.

With a last, lingering glare, the man strolls off back into the cafe and the silence descends over them once more.

Desperate for something to do with his hands, Romeo hastily picks up a small fork and uses it to prod at his stew with feigned interest.

“Romeo.”

The utensil slips from his fingers and tumbles into the food with a wet splat, sending flecks of gravy flying in all directions. Reluctantly, he lifts his head to look at her and braces himself for a scolding.

Instead, she throws him off kilter by flashing a toothy smile and pointing her fork at his face. “I don't know if you remember how food works, but it's supposed to go in your mouth, not on your chin.”

“Huh?” His hand flies up and, sure enough, there's a spattering of thick, clumpy goop stuck to his red tuft of beard. Grumbling, he scrubs it off with the back of a hand, glowering at the hero. “Don't change the subject...You didn't answer my question..”

Now it's her turn to stare down into her stew and shovel some meat idly across the dish. “You want to know why I'm being nice?” she reiterates, peering up at him through her dark lashes.

Swallowing, Romeo nods.

The young hero sits back in her chair, humming and searching his face intently before she eventually takes a breath. “It's because -”

“It's because she's Jesse.”

The two of them give a start at the sound of a gruff, surly voice calling out from somewhere nearby and suddenly, strong fingers clasp Romeo's shoulder, pulling an undignified squawk from his throat.

“Oh no,” Jesse mumbles, covering part of her face with a hand as a burly man sporting an eye patch and an impressive beard saunters around Romeo towards her side of the table and grabs a chair from nearby, dragging it right up next to her and plonking himself down into it with one, broad shoulder pressed up against her. His lips pull back over his teeth to grin at the ex admin, though it only invokes the image of a lion baring its teeth.

Thoroughly cowed, Romeo shrinks further into his seat.

Eyes as hard as an iron block, a thick mane of dirty blonde hair and muscles that bulge out from beneath the sleeves of his navy vest – It isn't difficult to recognise the newcomer.

Puffing out his chest, Jack sniffs, staring his former nemesis down from across the table.

Without his powers, Romeo can at last appreciate just how intimidating Jack is. Even sitting down, he manages to dwarf Jesse.

Exasperated yet too fond of him to push him off, she resigns herself to lean into his shoulder, throwing Romeo an apologetic look.

Years ago, Jack had lost two of his best friends – Sammy and Vos – to the Admin's sea temple during a hunt for the legendary treasure supposedly buried within.. Their deaths had utterly devastated the man, left him with post traumatic stress disorder and a lingering tendency to fret profusely over those closest to him.

Jesse is among the few friends he has, which has – on more than one occasion -  rendered her prone to his often overprotective nature.

“Hrnn!” A second voice, this one far gentler than Jack's, draws their attention and before they know it, a villager has slipped into another chair on Jesse's right, though at a much less invasive distance. “Hmm, hrn hnn,” he continues, scowling at the adventurer, who blinks rapidly and recoils, affronted.

“I am not, Nurm,” he hisses before raising his voice, throwing an arm around Jesse's shoulders and grinning, “What? I'm not allowed to say 'hello' to a friend?”

Rolling his eyes, the villager lets out a huff and shifts around to smile warmly at the girl.

“Hey Nurm,” she greets, earning a soft hum as he extracts a hand from his robes and lays it gently over hers, patting it fondly.

That simple action sends a pang of longing racing through Romeo's chest.

There'd been a time  - long, long ago – when he, Xara and Fred had been that close. Close enough for physical touches that didn't hurt.

For a moment, it feels as if he's the interloper here, and they're the ones who Jesse had invited to eat with her.

“So,” Jack barks suddenly, clapping his hands together and startling Romeo back to the present, “We were just passing by – totally not following you, by the way – and we couldn't help but overhear you shouting at our Jesse here.”

At his side, Nurm grunts, mimicking his partner's stern glare.

The young woman sandwiched between them must have noticed that Romeo's face turns ashen because she carefully squirms until Jack gets the message and retrieves his arm from her shoulders. Once free, she taps a finger sharply on his clenched fist, a subtle, silent command which he reluctantly obeys, letting his fingers stiffly unfurl until they lay flat on the tablecloth.

“Romeo and I were just having a chat.” She glances at him pointedly. “Right?”

At the other end of the table, the ex admin runs a finger around the inside of his collar, adam's apple noticeably bobbing up and down and betraying his anxiousness. “We were! I-I was just asking her-”

“-Why she's being so nice to you. Yeah, we heard,” Jack interrupts, rolling his good eye, “The whole of Beacon Town heard.” Under his breath, he utters, “And most of us are asking ourselves the same question..”

Releasing his shirt, Romeo drops his hand against a thigh where it lands with a soft 'thwap' as he sighs defeatedly, forehead puckering. “I just don't get it,” he mumbles, partly to himself, partly to the other three, “She should hate me.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, the rest of us do,” Jack helpfully puts. A loud thump from under the table accompanies Nurm's admonishing, “Hrrm!” and the bearded adventurer flinches, wincing.

“Ow! What the heck was that for?”

Leaning back in his chair, Romeo waves a dismissive hand at the villager. “No, no. He's right. I mean, I'm not completely blind – not anymore...  - Everyone's got a good reason to hate me. Especially you.” His dark eyes find Jesse's and hold her gaze for several seconds before his nerve gives out and he drops his head again.

Nobody speaks for a time, Jack, Nurm and Jesse all exchanging sidelong glances while their old enemy watches the steam slowly rise from his food.

Jack can feel his other half's wizened stare on the side of his head, but he pays Nurm no mind, too preoccupied with scrutinising the disgraced admin before them.

Admittedly, he is a rather sorry sight.

Pallid complexion, dark circles beneath his eyes that make even Jesse's look small, hunched shoulders and a general lack of deluded grandeur leaves Romeo a damn sight less impressive than he'd once been.

Deep, deep down, there's a tiny part of Jack that sympathises. Losing that sort of power in one fell swoop would take a toll on most people. He imagines it would feel like having his own rippling, super athletic arms taken away and replaced with...with baby arms, or something. The very notion sends a shudder coursing through his body. “Listen, er...Romeo,” he begins, scratching at his nose, “I gotta be honest – Jesse here? Heck, I don't think this kid could hate anyone. Now, I'm not saying that's a bad thing!-”he rushes to explain as the young woman opens her mouth to protest. “I just mean, this isn't exactly the first time she's forgiven someone who almost destroyed the world.”

Nurm hums his agreement.

“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds pretty bad,” the hero in question mumbles, abandoning all hopes of eating her stew while it's still hot. Luke warm would have to do.

At her statement, Jack barks out a laugh.“Ha! Not from the bad guy's perspective!”

Romeo can't help but to purse his lips, nodding soberly. “S'true. When I was the Admin, that selflessness of yours? Bah! Oh, I just thought it was pointless! Now though...” An incredulous smile nudges at one side of his mouth. “I'd have to say, I think it's one of your more attractive traits.”

He doesn't miss the way Nurm and Jack bristle, whereas Jesse herself raises a sly brow and the corner of her lips begin to twitch. It takes him a second to place a cause for their reaction. “Oh for!- Not attractive like that!-” Blowing out a rasping huff, he prays that the heat creeping up his cheeks isn't too noticeable. “You know what I meant.”

Harrumphing, Jack narrows his eyes but at least the tension drains from his shoulders.

“Well, Jack, Nurm-” the young hero nods to each of them in turn. “-It was great to see you guys...” She trails off, leaving her sentence open-ended in the hopes they'll interpret her hidden prompt to bid farewell. Jack looks about ready to batten down the hatches and glue himself to the chair, yet his intentions are thwarted as the villager gets to his feet, gesturing at the dishes of stew and murmuring something to the gruff man beside Jesse.

“Nurmie, the food isn't getting cold,” Jack huffs, following his partner's lead regardless and standing up. “Look! I can still see the steam....Oh wait, no. No I can't. Sorry Jess.”

Wordlessly, she shakes her head and grins, waving his apology aside.

Eyeballing Romeo for a last, lingering moment, he turns to her and rumbles, “Hey, listen...Me and Nurm are gonna go start putting the shop back together.” He lowers his voice, adding gently, “If you need anything, you come get us, okay?”

Sometimes, Jesse wonders if anyone even remembers that she can look after herself.

However, for the umpteenth time in her life, she decides to humour him. “Don't worry, Jack. I will. Bye Nurm!”She waves at the villager who has made his way around the table and takes his partner's elbow, tugging the larger man away from Jesse.

“Hrrm, hnn!” he chimes, waving back. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he offers a small nod to Romeo after which he and Jack make their way back down the street, heading for their home.

Twisting around in his seat, Romeo stares after them, teeth worrying at his bottom lip as a nagging thought pushes to the forefront of his mind and before he can stop himself, he's calling out, “Hey! Hey Jack!”

The man jerks to a halt, spinning around, his good eye round with surprise.

For a second, Romeo falters, feeling the stares of every Beacon Towner boring into him curiously. Unfortunately, it's far too late to back out now. Besides, Jesse's watching. So, setting his jaw, he swallows his pride – what little he has left – and continues. “I never apologised! For...for Vos and Sammy!”

He hears a soft intake of breath from the hero behind him and very quickly realises that mentioning Jack's deceased friends – especially the one he'd impersonated – probably wasn't the best idea.

Even with the distance between them, they can see Jack's entire body stiffen, sorrow clouding his rugged features.  There's a worrying second or two where Romeo is convinced that the adventurer will march right back over to the table and punch him square in the jaw. Apparently, Jesse seems to be on a similar train of thought as he hears the chair behind him scrape against the ground and her shadow falls across their table, letting him know that she's on her feet. Typical Jesse. Always prepared to intervene should a bust-up occur.

Neither of them need have worried though.

The villager at Jack's side rests a mollifying hand on his partner's rigid fist, squeezing gently until it goes slack. Then, without taking his eyes off Romeo, the adventurer turns his hand over and intertwines his fingers with Nurm's, returning the comforting squeeze while a humourless smile tugs at his lips and he softly calls back, “Sorry's just a word, pal. You want people around here to start forgiving you? You gotta show 'em you're sorry. No good just saying it.” Shaking his head slowly from side to side, he twists himself about, transferring Nurm's hand into his other one and the two of them start off down the path once again, though not before the former admin catches one last statement tossed over Jack's burly shoulder, one that's almost lost among the low hum of the bustling street. “But saying it is a start..”

Jesse and Romeo wait in silence until the adventurer and his companion turn a corner at the end of the road and disappear from view.

Several moments pass in which activity gradually picks up around the cafe again and all of Beacon Town seems to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Unsurprisingly, Romeo finds himself exhaling right alongside them. He turns back to face the hero in residence only to find her looking at him thoughtfully, a lopsided grin brightening her face.

“...What?” he asks after a pause.

With a coy shrug, she returns her attention to the stew on her placemat and stabs at a chunk of meat with the fork. Raising it up to her lips, she replies, “No, it's just... that was good of you. To apologise, I mean.”

He blinks as she pops the food into her mouth and immediately prepares a second forkful, etiquette all but forgotten in favour of eating the stew before it grows completely stone cold.

Hesitantly, Romeo lowers his eyes from her face and takes up his own fork, following Jesse's lead by scooping a piece of rabbit onto it. “He's right though, your friend...Saying sorry just doesn't feel like it's enough..”

Humming around her mouthful, Jesse gulps it down, pausing between her next bite to say, “That's because it kind of isn't.”

She's watching him closely now, expectantly, causing his ears to grow warm under the intensity of her stare as it follows the food all the way up to his mouth where he stops to give it a wary sniff before pushing the fork past his lips, eyes narrowed in anticipation. As soon as the meat hits his tongue, an explosion of flavour lights up his tastebuds and he's mortified at the groan that escapes him. His face must have done something funny as well, seeing as Jesse hastily brings a napkin up to her lips just a bit too late to hide her broad grin. “That good, huh?”

“Mhmm!” he nods eagerly, already shovelling in another fork load and nearly swallowing it whole. “Blimey!” he exclaims once he's no longer in danger of choking, “Remind me why I stopped eating food after I became an admin.”

Jesse's eyes sparkle like the sun on water. “If you think that's good, just wait until I reintroduce you to cake.”

Letting out an acknowledging grunt, Romeo wolfs down the rest of his meal, only sitting back when the dish is completely devoid of even the tiniest morsel. Using the back of a hand to wipe away any excess food off his chin, he sighs and offers the girl a contented smile. “Thanks for this, Jesse.” He indicates the dish, but hopes she'll figure out that he's thanking her for so much more. “You didn't have to do this.”

“Eh, you looked like you needed it.”

“No, seriously -” The former admin's expression turns instantly sober and he leans forwards, palms flat against the table. “I...what do I owe you?”

“Oh, don't worry about it,” she replies casually, putting her cutlery down inside the dish, “The guy who owns this place got into a bit of trouble with some skeletons last year and I saved him. Ever since then, he lets me and my friends eat here, totally gratis. You don't owe a thing.”

To her surprise, the ex admin roughly shakes his head, fingernails scraping over the tablecloth. “Jesse, please, you have to let me repay you somehow. How can I ever make up for what I've done if you won't let me?”

“Romeo,” she huffs, firmly enough to get him to pry his fingers from the table, “You don't need my permission. I'm not stopping you from doing good things. You should help people because you want to, not because I tell you to.”

“I – I do want to help people! But I just..I just...gah!” Frustrated, he exhales brusquely, slouching back into his chair and giving Jesse the most imploring look she's ever seen. It'd even put Radar's to shame. “I just don't know where to start.” Trailing off, he lowers his eyes down to rest on the hero's knuckles, where he can see the purpling bruises lingering on her skin, testaments of her final showdown against him. It seems even Fred's golden gauntlet – powerful as it was – couldn't wholly protect her from the full might of a desperate admin.

Unbeknownst to Romeo, his eyebrows knit together and he scowls darkly at the bruises, unaware that while he's peering at them, Jesse is busy casting a sympathetic glance over his face.

“You know,” she begins suddenly, drawing his head up a little, “If you really want to help out, I think I know how to get you started.”

Immediately, he brightens, “You do?”

The hero in residence doesn't bother to conceal her smirk. His enthusiasm had once been utterly horrifying and bordered on obsession, but now that he's no longer a giant megalomaniac, it's an unexpectedly endearing trait. “Come on,” she says, standing up and digging around in her pockets for something, “I'll tell you on the way.”

Curious, Romeo gets to his feet as Jesse fishes a gold nugget from her overalls and places it down next to her dish.

“Hey!”He points at it accusingly, trotting around the table and falling into step at her side. “I thought you said you ate here for free?”

“Yeah, I know,” she shrugs, “But...he works hard, and it just doesn't feel right to leave without a trade.”

“Hmph. No wonder they love you.”

She chuckles warmly but doesn't dispute his comment.

The unlikely duo make their way down the winding streets in silence, simply taking in the sounds of Beacon Town until Jesse leads him around a corner and the enormous, north gate comes into view. It briefly occurs to Romeo that she's taking him somewhere outside the walls.

“So, where exactly are we going?” he asks, eyeing a large, balding man leant against the side of a porch up ahead. The stranger has a mean glint in his eye, flicking a glare between Jesse and the ex admin with each glance growing increasingly sour.

“The mines,” she replies breezily, waving at a few passersby.

Romeo falters and stumbles on a piece of uneven cobblestone. “The mines? Why the mines?”

“Well,” she starts, biting the inside of her cheek and casting her eyes up towards the clouds floating along overhead, “Since someone decided to pull everybody out of the mines to prepare for a festival -”

The former admin cringes and hisses through his teeth, already realising what she's about to say.

“- No one's been down there to monitor the Heck mouth situation for like, three days.”

“Heck mouth?”

“That giant, monster-spewing hole in the ground? The one you made so I would find your gauntlet?”

“Ah...That Heck mouth.” Gnawing on his lower lip, Romeo exhales. “Listen, Jesse... I'm so-”

“It's done now,” she interrupts him gently, “What matters is fixing the problem.”

“Oh, I'll tell you how you can 'fix' the problem...”

Unexpectedly, Jesse's arm flies out, stopping Romeo in his tracks as a shadow falls over them and they find their path blocked by the same man he'd seen on the porch.

Electric blue eyes contrast the angry red flush blooming from the man's neck to his face. With flaring nostrils, he raises a hand and jabs Romeo in the chest, hard.

“You can fix it by doin' what you should've done yesterday, n'chucked this guy off the nearest cliff!”

He advances, forcing the ex admin to stumble back and bring his hands up, instinctively covering his face when, all of a sudden, despite being half a head shorter than either of the men, Jesse pushes herself between them, shoving the newcomer away from Romeo and thrusting her chin out, challenging him. “Hey! If you've got something to say, you can take it up with me.”

“Believe me,” he sneers, “I got a lot of things to say to you. The first bein,' how could you let this...this monster stay in Beacon Town!? You're s'posed to be keepin' us safe!”

Cowering behind the hero, Romeo has to marvel at this man's gumption, screaming into the face of the woman who defeated a Witherstorm and an Admin. Jesse – remaining true to her un-confrontational nature – does her best to pacify him, drawing his attention from Romeo and directing it onto her. “Look, you're angry. I get it, trust me. But there isn't any point taking it out on him now! It's over. He's done and he's trying to make up for it!”

But the man either isn't listening, or he simply doesn't care. Face contorted into an ugly snarl, he takes a step closer, bumping his chest against hers and glaring down his nose, forcing her neck to crane back just to keep his gaze. “Oh yeah? And you seriously believe that? Cos it seems to me he'll tell you anything just to save his own skin!”

Bristling like an angry ocelot, Jesse squares her shoulders and slowly grinds out, “He's telling... the truth.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I trust him!”

At her back, Romeo recoils a little and his eyes grow wide and round along with his mouth, which drops open to form a small 'oh.'

'She trusts me?' The impossible notion turns itself over and over in his head and he latches onto it, clinging tightly, too afraid to let it go.

Had he misheard?

No. Her words had been so firm and clear, he couldn't have misunderstood.

Is she lying?

Hardly likely. Jesse is one of the most frustratingly earnest people this side of the Nether.

So why in gravel's name would she ever trust someone like him? Nobody trusts him! - admittedly, with good reason. Not even Xara had, in the end. In fact, the last person who ever trusted him was Fred, and then he'd....he'd....

The painful memory resurfaces and Romeo scrabbles to squash it down, shaking his head to clear it and letting his eyes focus on the back of Jesse's head, a tender warmth igniting deep in his chest and gradually spreading outwards.

From what he catches, the man still hasn't calmed down and her attempts to sate his rage only seem to agitate him further.

“He'll turn on us the moment we let our guards down!” he roars, throwing an arm out that narrowly avoids clipping the young hero around the ear as he gestures over her shoulder at the ex admin.

“No, he won't. Look – Just -”Exasperated, Jesse knocks his arm aside. “- I don't want a fight to break out, okay?”

Finally, the man pauses, darts his eyes down to her face and then drags them back up to Romeo again. The lull in aggression entices Jesse into a false sense of security and her shoulders relax, a tiny breath hissing out between her teeth.

She should have known better.

Curling his lips back suddenly, the stranger growls, “Then you shouldn't have let him stay,” and before she knows what's happening, he brings an arm up again, this time using his elbow to shove her roughly in the ribcage, knocking her completely off balance.

In that instant, time slows for the former admin.

He sees Jesse teeter sideways, sees her expression of shock and disbelief. Then, he sees her hit the ground with a jarring thump, her palms scraping over the hard cobblestone as a cry bursts free from her lips.

After that, all he sees is red.

A terrible roar cuts clear across the square, turning every head and shaking Jesse out of her daze. Snapping her eyes open, she's just in time to witness a furious Romeo surge forwards to meet the man head on and seize him by the lapels of his jacket, hauling him off his feet and high into the air with a strength he simply shouldn't possess.

Kicking and struggling in the former admin's unshakable grip, all previous bravado seeps out of the man and his face turns ashen. “H-Hey!” he squawks, “Let me go, man!” Frantic, he grabs Romeo's hands and attempts to pry them off to no avail. “Somebody! Get this guy off me!”

Hearing the terror in his voice urges Jesse to scramble back onto her feet, wincing as she pushes off her grazed palms. “Romeo!”she shouts, “Put him down!”

People are starting to take notice, some fleeing the vicinity while others move a few steps closer, glancing between each other and the scene playing out before them, unsure of whether or not they dare intervene.

The ex admin is completely oblivious to it all.

His eyes are firmly locked on the man dangling from his grasp as a feeling akin to hatred begins to bubble up from his stomach, building to a roiling crescendo and spurring him to give his victim a violent jostle, pulling a whimper from his lips.

'Good,' he finds himself sneering gleefully, 'he deserves to be scared!'

Meanwhile, completely unbeknownst to him, Jesse has latched onto his forearm and is tugging on it for all she's worth. But it's as though he'd suddenly turned to stone. Limbs locked up, his sinewy muscles barely even quiver with the effort of keeping a man as large as he is aloft for so long, a fact that unnerves the young hero. She hadn't realised he would be this strong, even without his admin powers.

Desperation bleeds into her tone when she sucks down a deep breath and pulls herself up to be closer to his ear, yelling into it, “ROMEO! STOP!”

And just like that, as if emerging from a dream, he blinks, sound and awareness rushing back to him all at once. Turning his head stiffly to the side, he's startled to find Jesse's blazing, green gaze mere inches from his nose.

“J..Jesse?” he rasps as an instant wave of calm washes over him, dousing the fire in his belly.

She gives his arm another yank.“Romeo! You've gotta put him down, now!”

“Huh?” He jolts, finally registering an uncomfortable twinge in his arms and the fingernails scrabbling frenetically against his knuckles. Swivelling his head forwards again, the former admin gasps, seeing his hands clasped around the lapels of the man who'd pushed Jesse over.

When did he?.....

Deflating, he promptly drops the man in a heap on the cobblestone and staggers backwards.

Eyes. There are eyes everywhere. He can feel their hateful glares on him as he spins in a slow circle, taking in the small crowd of people that have gathered seemingly from nowhere to surround him.

“Jesse..” He turns to face her once more, slowly shaking his head. “I-I didn't..I didn't mean to-”

Trailing off, he bites down on the inside of his cheek when he sees the look on her face .

Frustration. Wariness. Disappointment.

He's suddenly hit with an itch to bury his head in a block of sand, if only to escape that expression.

Tongue glued firmly to the roof of his mouth, he takes a few, bumbling steps towards her, not missing how her shoulders tense at his approach. “Jesse, I am so, so sorry!-”

A murmur starts to circulate the crowd, growing louder until he can distinctly make out certain words that cut like knives, chipping away at his resolve.

“What was Jesse thinking?”

“Somebody throw him outta here!”

“-thought she said he was harmless?”

“He just attacked that guy!”

Eventually, someone scurries forwards from the crowd and grabs the man on the ground, helping him upright again but the moment he's steady, he shrugs them off, straightens out his jacket and shoots a dark glare at Romeo then turns to shake his head at Jesse before spinning on his heel and stalking towards the gaggle of onlookers.

A few of them part to let him storm by, several even following after him, no doubt in the hopes of garnering some more information about the encounter.

Romeo can do little but watch him leave, mouth opening and closing like the world's most helpless goldfish. He would probably have remained that way for many hours if Jesse's small, warm hand hadn't suddenly snagged his wrist and given him a sharp pull. Too stunned to protest, he allows himself to be dragged across the square in the direction of Beacon Town's front entrance.

'Oh, now you've gone and done it,' he admonishes himself miserably, 'Kicked out on day one...'

But just as they near the gate, the hero unexpectedly veers to her right, instead leading him on a new path towards the entrance to the town mines.

In spite of his confusion, he keeps his mouth tightly shut as she stomps down the narrow staircase, her fingers still closed like a vice around his wrist.

They get to the bottom and it's only then that she releases him.

He trails slowly to a halt and chews his lip, sheepishly watching her move several metres into the dimly lit mine before she whips around to glare at him, arms folded tightly across her chest and a slender eyebrow quirked expectantly.

“What-” She begins, voice terse, “-Was that!?”

“I-I don't-”

She cuts him off, throwing her arms up into the air and closing the distance between them. “You were doing so well! I thought I could trust you!”

She may as well have twisted her sword into his gut.

Staggered, Romeo wrings his hands together, coming dangerously close to pleading when he rambles out, “No! No, no, no, please! I – You can! You can trust me, I promise!”

He can't lose that. He can't. He hadn't felt that good in a long time when she said she trusted him.

Though his words are saturated in genuineness, Jesse doesn't seem convinced. Huffing, she pinches the bridge of her nose. “How can I? You just attacked that guy! Why? Why'd you freak out on him like that?”

Shuffling awkwardly, he looks down at the toes of his sneakers and mumbles something under his breath.

“What was that?” she asks briskly, cocking her head at him.

Drawing in a deep breath, he reluctantly pulls his eyes up to her again, swallowing thickly before he whispers, “He hurt you...”

“I-”Jesse falters, taken aback. “What did you say?”

A little louder, Romeo gestures to her weakly, repeating, “He... hurt you. I – I saw him push you and-...I don't know, I just....It's like I switched off! Like I wasn't in control anymore.”

She looks a little perturbed by his explanation but he doesn't know how else to word it. It is the truth, after all.

Ever so slowly, the young woman's face changes, moving from stern to puzzled before his eyes.

“Why would you care?” she says after a pregnant pause, “Dude, you literally tried to kill me. Like, a lot.”

“I know,” he breathes, wringing his hands, “And I can't ever take that back. But...when I saw him push you, after everything you've done for me, I couldn't just stand there and-...” He has to rein himself in after noticing that his fingers have begun to twitch in her direction.

For some time, only the sound of torches crackling nearby permeates the stillness of Beacon Town's mine.

In the end, it's Jesse who takes a tentative step forwards - once again bringing her within touching distance - and sighs, shoulders slumping as she rubs at her temples. “I guess I can't really be mad at you. Not if you were just trying to help...”

“Wait, what?” He recoils, squinting. “You're not...angry?”

Jesse emits an airy laugh.“For what? Standing up for me?  If I got mad every time one of my friends did that, I'd spend my whole life in a bad mood! It will be harder to convince those people out there to let it slide though...” She chews on her lip, one side of her face scrunched up in thought. A few seconds later, she chuffs, hands coming up to rest on her hips and she aims a funny look at the former admin. “Man....It's hard to believe that just yesterday, you hated my guts, huh? Now you're defending me from the locals?”

“Jesse...” he frowns gently, “I never hated you.”

She raises her eyebrows at him. “Uh. Again – you tried to kill me?”

“I was angry with you. Livid!”A nervous little laugh wheezes out of him and he turns away. “I wanted to hurt you because you hurt me.”

Cocking her head to the side, Jesse pulls a face. “Romeo, what exactly do you think I did to hurt you in the first place?”

“You didn't want to be my friend,” he tells her simply with a shrug, “And don't tell me that sounds pathetic – I know it does. You were the one person I wanted to be my friend – the one person I thought would want me as a friend. But then, you didn't.” He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans and kicks at a loose chip of stone, feeling Jesse's astonished stare on the side of his head.

Following a moment of hesitation, she says, “I... didn't realise it meant that much to you..”

The former admin doesn't respond, so she moves around to his front, ducking her head to catch his eye. “You must have been pretty lonely.”

“I wasn't lonely,” he protests weakly, “I was...I was....” But in lieu of any legitimate excuse, he trails off, averting his gaze to the walls, the ceiling – anywhere that isn't Jesse. In the end though, he slumps forward in defeat and finally drags his head up to look at her, swallowing audibly. “Alright, so maybe I was.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” The tilt of her lip lets him know that she's teasing and seconds later, she has her thumbs hooked into her overall straps as a pensive looks washes across her features. “Welp, I don't mean to brag, but I happen to know a thing or two about making friends.”

In spite of himself, a tiny snort betrays Romeo's bemusement. “So I've noticed.”

He balks when suddenly, Jesse reaches down and takes his wrist, just as she had outside, except this time, there's a grin on her face instead of a scowl whilst she pulls him further into the mines. Luckily, the gloom conceals a dusting of pink that creeps onto his cheeks at the unexpected contact. He allows himself to be guided once again towards a wall near the back of the main chamber, a place well lit by torches, until they come upon a humble little crafting table. It's surface is littered with notches and chips, worn down over the years by hundreds of experienced hands.

As they approach, Jesse's fingers slip from his arm and he instantly mourns the loss of gentle contact. She kneels down a few steps to the right of the table, in front of a wooden chest that looks to have received the same level of love, and places her hands on the lid, hefting it open.

A raucous creak rends the still air as the chest's hinges protest against the unexpected intrusion but it nevertheless swings open and thunks against the wall, giving Jesse enough space to plunge her arms inside and rummage around whilst Romeo lingers at her back, twiddling his thumbs and glancing up at a deposit of iron the craggy ceiling.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks, pulling out a wooden stick.

Without seeing her face, he can't hope to hazard a guess as to what she's thinking but she's dropped the jovial lilt from her tone. Uncertainly, he replies, “Uh, course you can.”

For a while, she hesitates, her shoulders heaving up and down though he doesn't hear her sigh. Another pause, then, “I meant what I said you know. Back in your tower.”

“Oh, um...” Romeo scratches absently at the back of his neck. “You might have to refresh my memory. It all just seems like a it of a blur now.”

She still doesn't turn to face him, and he's starting to think she's only pretending to look for something in the chest. He watches her place the sticks down next to her boots before she continues, “You were just about to bedrock over the world. And I said that we could still be friends, remember?”

“Y-yeah.” He blinks and leans an elbow against the crafting table. “Yeah, I remember, sure.” Though he wishes he didn't..

“Well, I wasn't just saying that to stop you. I knew there was at least some good in you and....I wanted to find it.” At last, she pulls her arms from the chest, bringing a pair of iron bars along as well. Then, gathering the stick in her free hand, she stands up and turns to face him fully, eyes shining with so much sincerity, his chest gives a dull throb.

“I really did want to be your friend, Romeo.”

A heavy weight settles like lead in his stomach. Just another chance, he'd squandered. “Guess I should have taken the offer then and there, huh?” he laments quietly, glancing down at his feet.

All of a sudden, a burst of laughter catches him by surprise and he lifts his head again to find Jesse shaking her head at him and beaming as she abruptly pushes the stick and iron bars into his arms. “The offer still stands, dummy!”

“Oh.” This time, there's no use hiding his blush. They're standing too close to a burning torch, the firelight illuminating his face and and setting sparks dancing in Jesse's eyes. Prying his tongue from the room of his dry mouth, Romeo croaks, “You're serious? You....you want to be my friend? What, even after-” He breaks off, gesturing at himself helplessly.

Jesse's hand finds his shoulder and turns him gently to face the crafting table. “Yeah, weirdly enough, I kind of do. You're not the bad guy anymore, and I think it's important you know that even if it doesn't work out with Xara or the rest of Beacon Town-” Her fingers give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before they slip from his shirt. “- You still have at least one friend out there.”

Romeo's arms clutch the items closer to his chest, a familiar ache beginning to build in his throat.

The next thing either of them know, he's dropped his load of crafting materials onto the table and lunged forwards, slinging his gangly arms around Jesse's shoulders and clutching tightly to the back of her overalls. He has to bend considerably to accommodate for her shorter height but in the spur of the moment, he barely notices the awkward angle.

Jesse meanwhile, lets out a startled yelp, although it's lost in the fabric of the former admin's shirt. Blinking, she turns her face to one side so that her cheek is squashed against his bony chest instead and she can strain her head back to peer up at the underside of his chin. He has his eyes clamped shut while a dopey grin gradually worms its way across his features.

Once the initial shock has worn off, Jesse finds herself relaxing slightly in his warm hold. It's less crushing that one of Petra's hugs and a little too angular to be as comfortable as Lukas's, but it's far from unpleasant and soon enough, she hesitantly slides her arms around his scrawny waist, feeling him flinch for a second before he promptly melts against her.

“Ha..Never had you pegged for a hugger,” she jokes.

Romeo's only response is to let out a soft hum, smile growing even wider until suddenly, he registers what he's doing and his eyes snap open. In a rush, he lets go and springs away from her as if he'd been stung, holding up his hands up and blurting out, “Oh, Nether! I'm sorry! I don't know what came over me.”

It could just be his imagination, but he'd swear that Jesse's laughter chases away the mine's oppressive gloom. “You don't have to apologise for hugging me! Actually, I think it's a vast improvement from yesterday.” She flashes him a wink, setting his nerves at ease.

“Sorry if it was weird,” Romeo mumbles, scuffing his sneakers on the ground.

“Not weird at all.” Knowing that the truth would only make him self conscious, she waves his apology aside. It had been weird to receive a hug from an ex-immortal who had shaped the very world she stood on. Weird; yes. Though certainly not bad.

He's starting at her again in such a way that reminds her briefly of how Ivor had looked at her when she told him he could build a home in Beacon Town. It was the first time she'd seen the old wizard's smile grow so tender.

Eventually, Romeo's attentive stare starts making her fidget and she clears her throat shyly, tucking a stray hair behind her ears. “We'd, uh...We'd better get to it. That Heck-Mouth isn't gonna check on itself.”

“Huh?” He shakes himself out of his trance. “Oh, right. Right. The Heck-Mouth, yeah.”

He moves back to the crafting table when Jesse taps it and raises a quizzical brow at him. “Just in case we run into trouble, I thought it'd be a good idea to make you a weapon,” she says, “When's the last time you crafted something without your Admin powers?”

“Ah. Heh. I suppose it has been some time,” he confesses, rubbing at his beard.

“Don't worry about it, you'll relearn. Starting with....” Turning her attention to the crafting table, Jesse sets about separating the iron bars. “A sword, I think. Okay, so for one of these, you're gonna need to put an iron bar here...aaand...here....”

She continues to teach him the basics of weapon crafting while Romeo stands close to her side, nodding at appropriate intervals but paying absolutely no attention to the table whatsoever, too busy watching his new friend with a curl of warmth rolling around in his chest.

'Friend.' Romeo's lips stretch impossibly wide, wider than they have in years. 'My friend.'

[tessatechaitea]

Scarab #6

I don't know what's happening on this cover but I definitely have a new sexual fetish.

This comic book stars a raccoon. Rating: A+.

Most of the weird dialogue in this comic book probably comes from John Smith's high school notepads full of terrible poetry. I mean, this part about winter isn't too bad! I kind of like it. It's almost as if William Carlos Williams and H.P. Lovecraft were caught in a Star Trek transporter malfunction where their minds were melded but they had to overcome the horror of their new two-dicked physical existence to continue writing poetry. I knew John Smith was English from his previous work on 2000 A.D. and other British comic book periodicals but then he uses the phrase "Chinese whispers" in this issue and I think, "If I hadn't already known he was English from his previous work on 2000 A.D. and other British comic book periodicals, I'd now know he was English by his use of the phrase 'Chinese whispers.'" Here are some of the ideas John Smith throws into a two-page account of Scarab's recent adventures that he couldn't bother writing into full scripts but wanted everybody to know he thought up anyway: a television at the Waldorf haunted by the 20th Century, a pervert breaking the spirits of kids with his Zoo of Shame, The Phantom Barber stealing scalps from runway models, the world's sexiest man raped by Tarot cards, and the Electric Fetus Machine which manifests as a large organ whose music foments rebellion in fetuses. Is this how the British writers took over DC's adult comic books? By occluding our minds with so much random and weird pseudo-philosophical garbage that we couldn't think straight? Sure, I guess an Electric Fetus Machine sounds like a way better story than Batman beating The Riddler near to death. But is there really any substance there? I suppose there could be if the idea were fleshed out and some kind of theme built around the idea of fetuses rebelling. Maybe all of these ideas John Smith throws out are just a game of Chinese whispers where he takes, say, a story by John Barth from Lost in the Funhouse about the thoughts of a sperm considering how the race toward life is pointless and, maybe, they should all just give up, and he turns it into the Electric Fetus Machine so that when I read it, I don't instantly think, "Isn't this a John Barth story?" Instead, I think, "That's a better sounding story than the one where the guy is raped by the Three of Wands!"

Meanwhile, Scarab spends his downtime watching Eleanor turn into a Dr. Seuss tree. Or a mushroom cloud (because remember the theme established by the beginning quote and title?!).

Try to ignore Scarab's ass in the previous scan. It's phenomenal. If you're training to be a comic book artist, you need to spend a lot of time getting the ass right. And once you do, you'll never get an ass in pants right again because all you have ever learned to draw is a naked ass which readers will know is actually under skin tight Lycra unless the colorist completely shits the bed. The guy in the jar on the cover is a Russian experiment in psychotropic warfare called a Gloryboy. There are three of them and they're some kind of pacifist dream come true. They constantly mutter Vertigo phrases in a tonal frequency that makes normal people vomit and shit themselves. It's the Brown Note theory of winning battles but taken to the Vertigo extreme. Instead of a whomping bass sound system, the noise comes form a naked albino in a jar composed of dream matter. Maybe they're not composed of dream matter. And maybe they're not about pacifism at all. It seems they've been altered and experimented in such a way that they can give voice to "the Scream over Hiroshima!" That sounds pretty bad. It's probably some form of psychic bombardment, comparable to a nuclear blast, which drives everybody in the vicinity completely insane. Or maybe it really will just be a thing that pacifies everybody because have you ever tried to do anything while shitting yourself? I mean other than read the ingredients in your shampoo. And even then, I bet you take your eyes off the bottle for a moment to really be in the moment. As an aside, do women find shitting as enjoyable as men or is it just the fecal matter pressing up against our prostate as it passes that makes a big shit feel so good? The Russians test the Scream Over Hiroshima on London. What it does is project into the minds of everybody who hears it the entire reality of what happened in Hiroshima. It's the truth of war. It's pure horror and death and consequence. It probably also makes everybody shit themselves. But when it's done, they'll all understand, on a physically primal level what war is. And the assumption is that everybody will finally be against it, I guess? I've been on Twitter for many years and the one thing I know is that even physically experiencing the horrors of the bombing of Hiroshima isn't going to change the minds of most idiots. I mean, if you didn't become a vegan pacifist hug machine after hearing Sting's song, "Russians," why would you become one after living the horror of fifty thousand lives snuffed out in an instant?! Some people, you just can't reach. London turns into a burning chaotic mess as everybody flips the fuck out from suddenly experiencing the most painful thing they've ever experienced. Scarab arrives after it's all over and everybody is afraid of him. Surprise! There's nothing he can do. He just observes the mess and meets a psychic who tells him that Eleanor is coming back. And isn't that the most important part of this eight issue story? That Louis the Scarab's love returns to him while the rest of the world falls into death and chaos? Scarab #6 Rating: C. Smith seeded this issue with more story ideas than story. The main story is an idea that really goes nowhere as well. It's a thought experiment. It's a minor philosophical musing. And Scarab doesn't do anything but distract himself from his wife's condition. But it also wasn't uninteresting. So I think that means it's a C? What am I, a high school teacher? I don't know how to grade shit!

[taeheyhey]

Close to Normal (Finale)

Chapter 22 - Little Star

Taehyung x Reader - 2.7K words

A/N - Well then...here it is! It's honestly been so lovely to post this story here. I'm so thankful for the support and the nice comments and likes. I've been so happy that I've got to know some unbelievably kind and warm people through posting it, and I really hope you like the next stories I put out there. I'm hoping to spend a lot of my free time this Christmas catching up with some of the requests I've had. If you are not familiar with the song Little Star by Standing Egg (which I'm sure a lot of you are), please check out the links below. I really feel like knowing/hearing the song adds to this chapter.

Standing Egg - Little Star

Taehyung - Little Star (Cover) (Credit to Bangtan Taehyung)

Anyway...let's get on with it!! Please enjoy!

One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ Eight ~ Nine ~ Ten ~ Eleven ~ Twelve ~ Thirteen ~ Fourteen ~ Fifteen ~ Sixteen ~ Seventeen ~ Eighteen ~ Nineteen ~ Twenty ~ Twenty-One ~ Twenty-Two

Needless to say, it was not the beginning of The Notebook.

Wholly bewildered and strangely apprehensive, you felt your eyes begin to prick with hot tears as the three words on the screen dissolved in to blackness. As the strumming sound continued to fill the large empty room, you felt rather than heard the soothing strains of the song you had tried so hard to bring to your mind for the past three months, the music all at once as familiar to you as if you had heard it every day.

You turned in your seat, looking over your left shoulder and then your right, rather redundantly as you knew you hadn’t heard anyone enter. You returned your attention to the large screen in front of you just in time to have the wind knocked out of you by the scene you were faced with.

It wasn’t the young man from the pictures with the perfectly applied make up and precisely tousled hair in a whole spectrum of colours. It was the beautiful bare face of the boy you had found yourself falling for – hard – some months earlier. It was the face you had seen almost every night when you had closed your eyes to sleep and the one that, for that brief, blissful moment before you were fully awake, you imagined yourself waking up to.

And he was staring in to the camera with eyes so large and a gaze so intense that you could have sworn he was looking right at you at that very moment. He flicked his eyes up to somewhere at the top of the screen after what felt like minutes of him staring in to your soul in silence.

The soft sound of the acoustic guitar which had caused nervous energy to course through you the moment it commenced played on in the background as you continued to be transfixed by the perfection of Taehyung’s face.

It was so jarring to see him so clearly before you after all these months. After your brief foray in to sleuthing to find out more about him, you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to look at the plethora of photographs and videos on the internet. There was no way that those images, moving or otherwise, would do justice to the kind and free-spirited soul who had captured your heart completely. You needed to be able to remember him how you had seen him. Your funny, shy, chivalrous and effortlessly handsome Taehyung. Yours.

“Geurae,” was all he said before nodding briefly with a small smile and beginning to sing along to the music, which was now being played through the speakers on his phone rather than dubbed over the top of the footage. The lyrics of the song had been translated at the bottom of the video, and you found yourself torn between wanting to understood the words he sang so beautifully; and the need to look only at him.

Close your eyes and listen carefully to my story

Before my story ends, you will dream

Little star tonight

All night, I will watch over you

The sound of his voice instantly transported you back to that night he had come to you and held you close to him on the roof, surrounded by blankets and an all encompassing feeling of belonging and contentment.

When I first met you, it was truly eye-blinding

When I first saw your smile, I felt like I had the whole world

Little star tonight

All night, I will watch over you

Your eyes were drawn to the green enamel pendant which lay against his chest between the unbuttoned collar of his navy blue striped pyjamas, and your hand flew to it’s red counterpart hanging around your own neck involuntarily as you remained mesmerized by his deep voice. As he sang lyrics declaring that he’d watch over you, he lifted his own long fingers to grip at the tiger shape as though consciously mirroring your actions.

When I see you fast asleep in my arms

I can’t take my eyes off you for a second

You’re so pretty – I feel like my breath will stop

How can I fall asleep?

You huffed out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, wanting so desperately to reach out to the young man on the screen who was so blatantly struggling to hold back tears, as you felt the first of your own fall on to your cheek.

The hotel room transitioned to another scene, and the song Taehyung had been singing continued to play – along with the translation of the lyrics – as it did so, the audio expertly edited and entirely seamless. You clasped your hand over your mouth to muffle the guffaw that had begun to burst forth at the sight before you. Seven men standing in a glaringly white room, each of them sporting a pastel-pink, spotted headband, all sticking out at wildly varying angles, but with an equal level of absurdity vastly at odds with the soporific music.

Two of the young men were instantly recognisable to you as Taehyung and Jimin, the latter of which had dyed his hair a rather alarming shade of pink not too dissimilar to the colour of the antennae-like bow standing to attention atop his head. The other members were more or less evenly split in to three not looking too sure about the fluffy accessory; and the remaining two seeming to be enjoying it a tad too much.

It was obvious that the group of men surrounding Taehyung were his band mates. You had seen them in some of the photos you had found, although truth be told you hadn’t paid that much attention to them at the time, so flummoxed had you been by your then recent discovery about Taehyung’s occupation.

It was clear they were playing some sort of game, but the rules of it and the words being spoken were dubbed over with the music, not that you would have understood them anyway. Taehyung seemed to be repeatedly failing at whatever the objective was, and Jimin – who didn’t stray far from his side for a second – kept leaning over and pushing Taehyung’s lips up in to a smile in what might have appeared to be a consolatory manner.

You touched your fingers to your lips and thought about Hannah doing the very same thing to you those few nights earlier. Was it related to all this – whatever this was – somehow?

Before you were able to think about it for too long, the scene changed once again. This time, the footage was shaky and whoever was operating the camera zoomed in and out a little until the lens focused correctly on their chosen subject.

My love, my everything, my angel from heaven

My two eyes, my world – you stole them all

Little star tonight

All night, I will watch over you

Taehyung was lay back on what you assumed to be his bed holding his phone up in front of his face, and as the camera zoomed in further, he did the same on his phone screen, evidently unaware that he was being filmed. As the lens refocused your breath caught in your throat as you recognised the photo on his handset as being the one he had taken of you. He stroked is thumb across the image of your face and looked so forlorn that your felt your heart lurch towards him as the tears began to spill more readily on to your cheeks.

Another scene change, this time transitioning to a photograph, an image Taehyung had clearly taken of himself that night on the rooftop of the bar, as you recognised your city’s skyline lit up in the far background of the shot. He was smiling broadly in a perfect rectangle, his free hand raised up beside his scrunched up eyes in a peace sign, the very picture of happiness. There was a caption across the picture:

그녀는 훌륭하다

For a moment you cursed yourself for not acting on your whim to learn Korean, however you needn’t have worried as the foreign letters melted away until they were replaced with the English translation.

She is wonderful

As the still image faded, it was replaced with another rooftop scene, although this time it was Taehyung perched on a stool, a pink fleece blanket draped around his shoulders. To his left another of the members sat, a pale brown acoustic guitar balanced across his crossed legs, continuing to play the song in another seamless transition as Taehyung carried on singing along.

My love tonight

All night, I will watch over you

Forever, I will watch over you

When the song had ended, the man playing the guitar walked over to Taehyung and placed a hand on his shoulder, before offering him a comforting smile and carrying the instrument away by the neck until he exited the frame.

Once again it seemed that Taehyung was unaware that the camera was still rolling and he slouched a little on the high stool but remained seated. He lifted his head to somewhere above the camera, speaking directly to the person operating the device, and you were thankful for the subtitles which persisted along the bottom of the screen.

“Did you get it? Did it sound good?" Taehyung’s eyes were huge and full of concern as he awaited a response from the invisible cameraman.

The voice answered in a placatory tone. “I got it, hyung. She’s going to love it.”

On screen Taehyung sighed and dropped his head to gaze at his hands which were rested in his lap. “I hope so Jungkook-ah. I miss her.”

And with that the short film ended.

The lights shone in the theatre once more and you blinked your eyes in protest to the sudden brightness in the room, which caused further unshed tears to fall on to your cheeks.

You suddenly had an awful lot of questions.

He missed you? Had he been trying to reach out to you all this time? On a scale of one-to-one-hundred, just how much of a stubborn idiot had you been?

As you allowed your vision to adjust your attention was suddenly pulled to the end of the row you were sitting on. Expecting it to be Hannah, you turned in your seat to ask her for an explanation as to what on earth you had just seen and how she was involved in it.

But it wasn’t Hannah.

 ~~~

 Taehyung had observed transfixed as you watched the short movie that Jungkook had edited together with the help of Namjoon and Yoongi. He was captivated by the way the light from the screen lit up your face in so many different colours, and how beautiful you looked as you reacted to just a small selection of the footage they had compiled for the video.

For as much as Taehyung wanted to help Jungkook with the film, if he had had his way it would have taken up hours rather than just a few short minutes. However he was surprised that he had not included at least some the numerous impromptu English lessons with Namjoon that had begun to take place with much greater frequency. Taehyung was proud of the progress he had made in the language and he would have been lying if he said he didn’t want to show it off to you a little. But as he saw the way your eyes were clearly welling up with tears and the smile that graced your face at some of the sillier content in the video, he realised he was right to trust the other members’ judgement.

Just to be able to see you with his own eyes was so wonderful he could barely believe it, even after the flight to get here – complete with all the usual complications and stresses that go hand in hand with air travel – and all the negotiating with Seong-min to get approval to leave the country, it still felt so dream-like that he was afraid he might wake up in his bed at any second.

So enraptured had you clearly been by the large screen before you, you hadn’t noticed him standing to one side of the theatre, half hidden in the shadows of one of the fire exits, and it was easy enough for him to move to the middle of the room without prematurely attracting your attention.

As the large room was illuminated once more and your eyes fell on him, he swore he felt his heart stop as you stood mutely to attention, your eyes wide and your mouth agape.

For a few moments you both remained motionless, Taehyung drinking in the image of you before him, and you standing in silence as you struggled to compute his presence.

You finally called out to him, his name a question on your lips. He smiled and nodded in response, waiting for you to come to him, frightened that you might run away should he make any sudden movements.

 ~~~

 “Taehyung?” was all you could manage, your voice weak with emotion.

You felt elation and relief and a strange exhaustion all at once. For all your denial and avoidance of the truth of your feelings, you knew there was a part of you that was always anticipating and hoping for his return, and now he was standing in front of you, it was all you could do to not let yourself fall in to his arms that very instant.

It felt as though hours could have passed as you both stood still, terrified that he would vanish in to thin air – like so many of your dreams of him on waking – should you attempt to close the distance between you.

It wasn’t until he eventually spoke that you truly believed he was there.

All he said was your name and you closed your eyes to savour the moment, feeling fresh tears spring to your eyes in relief. You began to carefully make your way out of the row of seats and cursed Hannah for not advising you to sit nearer to the edge. You were positive you couldn’t have been cutting a particularly graceful figure as you gradually moved closer to Taehyung, moving nowhere near quickly enough for your liking.

Nor his it seemed, as he reached for you as you finally neared him, pulling you to stand close to him and cupping your face in both hands, and using his thumbs to wipe away the tears that were still stubbornly falling.

“Don’t cry, y/n,” he pleaded, dipping his head to look in to your eyes, his deep voice music to your ears after too long of being deprived of it. “Please don’t cry,” he said again.

You inhaled shakily and tried to steady your heartbeat even as it pounded relentlessly against your ribcage, gripping on to his biceps as you stared up at his face, still startling in it’s perfection even with worry etched across it.

He dropped a chaste kiss to your forehead and held you to him tightly, a deep sigh expanding his chest as he continued looking down at you. “I’m so sorry y/n, I missed you so much,” he said in a whisper before lowering his face towards yours, his eyes searching yours all the while.

“I missed you too,” you breathed, craning upwards to meet him.

 ~~~

As your lips met for the first time in what felt like forever, Taehyung’s heart felt so full he thought it might burst. For as hard a time as he had given himself for the way he had allowed all of this to play out, none of it seemed to matter as he felt you melt in to his touch at last.

He had seen and done many things in his life, much more than most people would ever get to, but the simple pleasure of feeling you in his arms at that moment was one of the most extraordinary things he could remember ever experiencing, and it would be many years until anything would even come close to bettering it.

There would be plenty of time for apologies and working out what the future might hold; how you each might work around the distance and circumstances currently throwing up obstacles in the path of your relationship. But for now, he kissed you slowly and deeply as though you each had all the time in the world, and – right at that moment – it truly felt to both of you as though that were true.

A/N - So...there it is!! I really really hope you liked it. Thank you for giving me so much of your time. Even though I have already posted this story elsewhere, I'm as nervous this time as I was before about the ending, so please reblog or leave a like or a reply if you enjoyed it and asks are always welcome/appreciated!

I really hope you stick around with me for more!! Thank you lovelies! ♥♥♥

[smilingformoney]

Platinum Diamond Scene: Hot Tub with Avery

Avery: Wonderful. I’ll see if Hank’s ready to drive us over…

After a limo ride through the city, you arrive at Avery’s townhome in the Upper East Side. Avery: Here we are, home sweet home. You: Wow, Avery, you live in a mansin! Avery: It’s a little too big for just me, honestly. I’m rarely here though, so it feels good to come back and decompress. Avery: Would you like anything to drink?

What do you drink? -Champagne

You: That’s what you mentioned as part of the ritual, right? I wouldn’t want to deviate from tradition. Avery: Oh, deviate all you want. Although having you join me for this seems to be the best new way to do that. You: Cheers! You clink champagne flutes.

-Sparkling spa water

You: I thought I’d get into the spa theme. Avery pours one for each of you, and you clink glasses. Avery: Cheers!

Avery: The hot tub is just downstairs. You: I can’t believe you have this whole place in your house! You: Sorry, I know I should stop being surprised, but it’s always one thing after another with you. Avery: Don’t apologise, I’m glad someone else aside from me gets to appreciate it. Avery leans down to light some candles.

CANDLES -Watch them glow!

Avery presses a button, and then hot tub’s jets shoot out water and bubbles that fill it up to the brim. Avery: Well, shall we? Avery strips down and gets in the water. You gulp as you catch sight of Avery’s beautiful, bare skin, and make sure your gaze doesn’t linger too long. Avery: Wow… The water’s amazing. You: Save some for me! You take off your layers, test out the water slowly, and join Avery, sitting with your back against one of the jets. You: Whoa! You: This feels… so good… I had no idea how sore my body was until just now. Avery: Oh, me too. My muscles are beyond stiff. For a moment, you take in the steam and the hot water, breathing deeply. Avery: I love escaping here when things get so busy. It’s like its own world in here, and nothing exists outside of it. Avery: And then, when you feel refreshed, you can become part of the world again. You: Do you often feel like you have to escape? Avery: Oh, no, most of the time I feel so lucky. Avery: But I’m rarely alone, always surrounded by my staff, fans, or press… so it’s good to come back here and have a breather. Avery: And then when I am ‘alone’ alone, it’s suddenly… very quiet. You: I bet. It must be jarring too, to go from being surrounded in an arena to all by yourself. Avery: Well, I’m glad you’re here with me. This isn’t the first time I’ve played Madison Square Garden… Avery: But it is the first time I’ve had someone to share the aftermath with. You: What do you normally do to re-centre yourself?

You: My ideal decompression would be… -Being surrounded by close friends, chatting it up.

You: Doesn’t matter what we’re doing, as long as we can spend time together. Avery: I love that. It’s so important to surround yourself with a good community. Avery: I miss my sisters all the time, but we have a group chat. Avery: It’s ninety percent spam, but it almost makes me feel like we’re living under the same roof again, sharing bunk beds.

-At home with a good book or TV show, and a glass of wine.

You: Preferably red. And binging media in front of a farm fireplace? Heaven. Avery: Sounds right up my alley. Seems like we all need some kind of lowkey ritual to feel like ourselves again. Avery: For instance, my sister and I used to ‘camp out’ and have sleepovers in the living room when we were kids. Avery: Just loads of sleeping bags, action movie marathons, and Cadbury Crunchie chocolate bars. I miss that.

-Going out on the town!

X

You: Where are they now? Avery: One’s a mother and an ER physician in London, one’s in uni, and one owns a lovely bed and breakfast back in Blackawton. Avery: They’re all back in the UK, but at least they’re only one video call away. Avery rubs their shoulders absently.

You: So… -Want to trade massages?

Avery: Oh, great idea! You move into place behind Avery and lift your hands to their shoulders. You pause for a moment. You’re going to massage Avery Wilshere? You’d better not mess up! Your hands move in slow, careful circles, fingers moving lightly from their neck, shoulders, and down her back. Avery: Oh, Cadence. This feels unreal. Where on Earth did you learn to do this? You: I took half a semester of massage therapy in college. You seem to lose command of [x] Avery: That half semester is really coming in handy right now. You swap positions. You can feel Avery’s light breath on your neck as they deftly find the sore spots in your body and releases all the tension. You: Ahhhhh… Avery: How’s that for you? You: Mmm… You seem to lose command of the English language as you revel in the feeling of Avery caressing and massaging you…

-Does this hot tub do any tricks?

Avery: Well, it does this… Avery presses another button, and colourful lights flash in the tub. They press another, and upbeat music reverberates in the room. You: So glad I asked. Avery: And the grand finale… Avery presses one more… …a dozen more jets turn on, gently massaging your back! You: I need to get one of these.

Later, Avery takes a sip from their drink. Avery: Cadence, can I just say, it was so magical to duet together onstage. I hope we get to do it again sometime, but with words that we write together. You: Avery, I would love that. And thanks for inviting me here. I feel like I gained five years of my life back. Avery: You’re welcome anytime, and I mean that. Steam wafts slowly over the hot tub, enveloping the two of you in a mist. Wet strands of hair cling to their skin as they smile, blue eyes gleaming.

You: (I should…) -Kiss Avery.

You reach out, your fingers tenderly tracing the side of Avery’s face… …then you close the gap and kiss them first, soft but serious. You: I’ve wanted to do this for… so long. Avery: Cadence, as soon as I saw you and heard you sing, I knew you were special. I knew you were magic. Avery: But I had no idea I’d grow to feel this way for you… You: You mean, as soon as you saw me in my Smoothie Star uniform, you didn’t instantly want to ravage me? You: In that case, you should have seen me in my banana suit. Avery: Well, I’m devastated I missed out. You: You should be. Your back bumps up against the wall of the hot tub. Avery kisses you again, deeper this time. Their skin is slick from the water. You move a hand through their silky hair, pulling them closer to you. You: Back during the music video, I had no idea if any of that was real or not… Avery: I think, then, I was starting to feel the beginnings of something… Avery: I was unexpectedly drawn to you, but I couldn’t admit it to myself. You: Why not? Avery: I was your mentor. Helping you succeed was first priority, and I didn’t want to overstep. Avery: Everything must have been a whirlwind of change for you, too. I didn’t want to overwhelm or confuse you during such a transition. Avery: So before anything happened, I really wanted to make sure we got to know each other first. On a real level. You: Well, here we’re just Cadence and Avery. No statuses or celebrity fronts. You: Just us. Avery: I like the sound of that. You close your eyes and let yourself fall into the feeling of Avery’s lips against yours, as blue light reflections from the water dance around the room…

-Take a break from the hot water.

You: I think I better get out before I turn all pruny. Avery: Oh, good call. We wouldn’t want that. You climb out of the hot tub after Avery, who offers you the fluffiest towel you’ve ever seen.

TOWEL -So comfy!

You wrap yourself up in it. You: Mmm… I could get used to this life of luxury. Avery: C’mon, Cadence. I’ll get you another glass of water. You might need it after all that heat. You follow Avery out of the hot tub, feeling utterly content and comfortable…