#(bless God for having spotify pull that out it helped SO much actually)

[miaheartscove]

south park headcanons

random ❀ 4:57PM ❀ south park ❀ tw: mentions of sewer slide, major spoilers, slight nsfw, mentions of pedophillia/rxpe, mentions of ed ❀ teen au a/n: im so bored :P i have like 30 pending assignments lol

STAN MARSH

has average grades. b- minimum!

stan's a very jealous kid, kind-of. he has an "idc mindset," but sometimes when people close to him drift away, he really starts feeling anger and jealousy.

bisexual (HEAVILY IMPLIED!!)

can't handle the stress of pimple/acne, hence, a ton of acne scars on his face.

his voice cracks oftenly.

KYLE BROFLOVSKI

perfectionist. doesn't handle failure very well. doesn't handle disappointment well either.

closeted queer. (very heavily implied!!) kyle would always wonder why he never felt a spark with girls. they were cute and all but there was something about them that felt… off. not that there was a shortage of cute, pretty girls in his class, or even the whole school. eventually, he just searched it up online on a search engine and it gave him one answer : gay. it's also canon he's asexual !!

hates crying. thinks it makes him seem weak. (I READ THIS SOMEWHERE IDK WHERE THO)

bought spotify premium with his chores earnings.

kyle deeply cares about ike! they play video games together.

sarcasm is his language. will try to stretch out a sarcastic comment for as long as he can.

ERIC CARTMAN

does horribly in school. straight f's. but liane convinced the school board with her special tactics to let him stay in school.

moans in class.

has a narcissistic disorder.

somehow knows how to doxx. eric usually doxxs people when he loses an arguement.

knows how to speak german. (iykyk)

KENNY MCCORMICK

gapped teeth + missing tooth.

gives himself piercings! whether it be on his ears, face, or even down there... (actually got an infection when he did his penis piercing 🙁)

omnisexual (pref for women).

decent temper control!

kenny will help his friends with whatever they need!

he's funny when he can be, serious when he needs to be. a good listener too!

has ptsd from all the deaths he suffered. sometimes dreams about them. (semi-canon)

BUTTERS STOTCH

obviously a very bad relationship with his parents. so distant and unsupportive. butters sometimes believes they'd be better off without him, but doesn't want to die.

attachment issues.

sees mr. mackey as a father figure. butters goes to his office very oftenly.

has the most intense, violent, and fucked up intrusive thoughts..

really liked the whole marjorine thing and sometimes goes out with the girls in disguise.

plays roblox tycoons.

butters has a nintendo switch lite!! he plays animal crossing and his island is so cute and nicely decorated<3

panromantic, he/she.

CRAIG TUCKER

autistic. probably one of the most popular craig hcs out there.

craig's adopted. his parents thought they couln't have kids but then had tricia a few years later. (AGAIN IDK WHERE I READ THIS :(( )

has braces. another really popular craig hc.

peruvian. ANOTHER REALLY POPULAR CRAIG HC. cuz think abt it, how did he appear of a peruvian wall that peruvian people drew if he isn't peruvian. 🤔🤔

pulls on the strings of his hat when he's in distress.

CLYDE DONOVAN

he's queer except idk how to prove it...

clyde has a really bad relationship with his father. his father holds a huge grudge against him for killing his wife.

he's the real homie that kisses his homies goodnight 💋

developed bulimia (an eating disorder where one forces themself to vomit) when he was in middle school. poor bb became really self-concious though made it seem like people's comments didn't get to him. often didn't eat much, when he did eat, he'd just throw it all up.

has trouble expressing his emotions, or thoughts in general.

TOLKIEN BLACK

his parents are pretty religous, feeding tolkien a lot of their religous beliefs, or how their god blessed them with wealth and whatnot. (leaving this open, idk much abt religion so hc whichever religion ^^)

feels pressure to be the best, both academically and physically. he joined the football team and the debate club at school, always turns in his work, and even completes any extra work even if he doesn't need it.

likes buying all of his friends expensive gifts. his parents always wonder why he's wasted his weekly allowence in one afternoon. (bonus: his love language is giving gifts&lt;;3)

contrary to belief, tolkien isn't good at comforting. sure he has a way with words, but doesn't know how to handle with other people crying and freaking out. he just kind-of pats their back.

enjoys oldies<3 like frank sintra, perry como, bobby darin, etc ...

TWEEK TWEAK

thinks his whole life is a joke. (it kind-of is. his parents thought it would be funny to name him tweek.)

crusty lips.. also bites his lip a lot which causes a bunch of lip blisters.

loves iceberg videos. but creeps himself out with them.

cat person, but his parents don't let him get one.

tweek has a pretty diverse music taste and owns various t-shirts of his favorite bands.

his hands are always cold.

tweek has the darkest eyebags ever.

is scattered with freckles: nose, back, shoulders, everywhere.

JIMMY VALMER

unironically makes dad jokes.

heteroflexible, he/him.

unirronically, jimmy's favorite movie is the bee move.

owns a weiner dog!

voice cracked every 2 seconds during puberty.

has pulled lots of all nighters due to his god-awful writers block for his comdey routines.

WENDY TESTABURGER

bicurious + genderfluid, she/he. wendy thinks her friends are really pretty and finds herself questioning if she likes or like-likes them. she's also scared to come out.

mole under her right eye.

has a white cat!!

wendy has rather slender fingers, perhaps the influence of playing the piano.

president of the debate club!

BEBE STEVENS

slut shames girl when she loses an arguement/when she's jealous. (ALSO READ THIS SOMEWHERE DK WHERE)

101% pinterest girl. has the most organized page ever.

loves wearing skirts!! standing at 5'7", bebe has pretty long legs, which she loves to show off!

used to wear her mom's heels a lot as a little girl. now, she's a whole professional at walking in heels! probably could run in them too!!

hoop earrings are her fav!

bebe is photogenic af, and she knows it!!

SHELLEY MARSH

true crime lover<3

unhealthy attachment issues + daddy issues + anger issues.

shelley gets really jealous of stan because of all the attention he gets from their parents and takes it out on him.

MIXED HEADCANONS

kenny shares his playboy magazines with clyde.

shelley and kevin are dating! bonus: shelley gives karen all of her old barbies to her. it makes her so happy to the point karen nearly cries.

wendy and bebe have kissed once for the fun of it.

eric forces the boys play among us with him.

kenny has really greasy hair. butters oftenly invites kenny over to his house to take a shower and sleep comfortably for at least one night.

kenny is the only person butters told about his uncle, who rxped him. that night, butters cried so much.

tweek and craig love playing minecraft together<3

clyde invites himself over to craig's/tolkien/jimmy's house oftenly. he's scared of tweek's parents so he avoids going to his house at all costs. ALSO WALKED IN ON CRAIG AND TWEEK MAKING OUT..

cartman calls craig "metal mouth" as an insult. eventually became a nickname for craig.

kenny has no idea butters is marjorine. he has the biggest puppy crush on her bro.

bebe and clyde have an off-and-on relationship. whenever bebe needs new shoes, she comes back to clyde, knowing he'll glady accept her with open arms, then gets dumped a week later.

(in reference to tolkien's 2nd hc) tolkien feels as though craig, tweek, clyde, and jimmy are the only people who he can be himself with. he's very carefree with them ^^

tolkien accidently crashed craig's car once.

the strain of sharon and randy's divorce makes stan go into another deep depression, where he picked up his drinking habit again. he hates siding on their custody so he stays at kyle's house sometimes.

(in reference to bebe's 6th hc) clyde has taken a ton of pictures of bebe, and in each and every one of them, she looks absolutely stunning.

[delicrieux]

—MAKE YOU SAY “OH” EXTRAS: TINDER

extra meaning non-canonical occurrence; can be placed anywhere in the “make you say oh” timeline after couple (cha. 14) and before the final “oh”. 

pairing—corpse husband x f!reader warnings—tinder profiles, tw: men, swearing.  word count—2.6k. format— written. ─── ❥ req by nonnie​:  y/n makes a youtube vid/live stream where she's just swiping through her tinder acc and corpse literally blocks her lmao

author’s note—akldsljfs this was such a funny idea i could not not write it lmao

ultimate masterlist. myso masterlist

You have pulled the biggest brain move by setting up both a facecam and a screen recorder on your phone. All is beautifully displayed and visible during the stream. Your fanbase is particularly intrigued on what exactly are you planning on doing today, seeing as your tweet of “strea” had been a bit vague, if not downright ominous. No emojis. No elaboration. You couldn’t even be bothered to finish the word. Truly, a mystery. Everyone tuned in and are currently waiting with bated breath.

A few of your fans must sense upcoming doom because the overall mood in the chat turns from optimistically intrigued to...evil. It’s an entity all on it’s own now, clawing at you through the screen with various renditions of laughter and devil emojis. A few eggplants thrown in there for good measure, accompanied, naturally, by the scandalous water drops. At first the common consensus is that you’re biting the bullet and going through your camera roll on stream. Definitely an idea worth considering, though you frankly don’t know what lies at the start of the 11k photograph journey, and you are afraid to check in public. Could be a harmless meme, could be a salacious pic you had saved of an OF star. It’s really a gamble. Either way, you would definitely get banned. You might still get banned. Why do you insist on doing shit like this?

Because it’s funny. Because you’re kinda stupid. Because it’s just so absolutely laughably easy to do.

A smile quirks your lips, and while it is not explicitly smug, the look in your eyes sure is, “Greetings,” You utter lowly, dimming the lights--the budget for this stream! Ugh, you went all out, “my children.”

mother i crave violence

sensing evil energy rn!!

i do not claim the energy in this video for myself or anyone else watching this 💖💖

^with peace and love shut the fuck up

“I know y’all lowkey hoes-” Upon your words the chat splits into two: one side eagerly agrees (even shares a few OF accounts! How helpful, supporting small businesses!), whilst the other feverishly insists on innocence. You make a face stuck somewhere between offended and bewildered, “Now c'mon now-I know you. I know you all. We’re the same, don’t-what was that?”

You try to scroll back to the comment but it’s loss in the sea of incoming messages, “I swear to God I just saw-”

Corpse_Husband: i love late night streams it’s not like i have anything better to do.

“COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORPSE!!!!” 

rip headphone users

i cant feel my face when im with you by the weeknd but instead of face its my fucking ears

yall think full vol on pc is better?my parents woke up 😭😭😭😭

To think he’s spending his last waking moments for today with watching you (he probably still would have anyway, because you do not posses an ounce of shame or self-control and pester him relentlessly)! It makes your heart sing, and suddenly, a traitorous, fun hating idea barges it’s way through the crowd of incoherent buzzing and states: don’t do this. For some reason it also has the voice of Rae. As if that would work in guilt-tripping you- Rae never succeed, and her fictitious rendition in mind won’t fare much better either.

Still, you thought about it. That must count for something. Corpse will understand, won’t he? Why don’t you want to upset it in the first place? Men look so funny when they lose their shit, like hello, don’t you have anything better to do? But the image of Corpse just sitting there, hurt, distraught, leaving you on seen because he’s in his sad boy hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

queen rly went from  🥺😊 to 😕 u ok bbgirl?

Corpse_Husband: no pouts cutie

akjdjoeijdfse cUTIE??? deadass boutta r.i.p.

Well that succeeded in eliminating everything from mind, doubts included. If this was an anime, the scenery would shift into something roseate, with flowers and bubbles and sparkles all around you along with a halo or two. Alas, not an anime, rather reality. The led-lights, however, seemingly possessing a will of their own, slowly turn from deep violet to pink. You smile brightly, like the absolute dumbass you are, and you are met with a ray of heart and blushing emojis. You are just so cute, a real cutie! Still in your disguise adorable state, you swipe your finger on your phone screen, the grin never leaving your lips.

There, among the plethora of apps, nestled sits a red square with a white fire plastered on it. The delicate calligraphy on the bottom reads: TINDER.

The mood changes once again- you’re giving the roaches emotional instability by how quickly everything flips over- and the chat spams eggplants vigorously; some, of course, bravely fight against the thirst.

nooooooo i thought y/n is gonna stream in a god honoring way!!!

^pack it up girl defined

“So, Charlie and I-” You note a few awfully curious comments and squint, “-yes, we talk a lot. Charlie is a really good friend of mine. We’re best friends. Brothers. Sisters. Cousins. The whole fucking family tree-no, that sounds weird. Delete. Anyway, Charlie, being the absolute fucker he is, said, hey, you know what would be funny? And I was like, nooo, what would be funny, Charlie? And he says to me, he says, says, making fun of men on Tinder. And if y’all need any more proof that Charlie and I are platonic soulmates, then dunno, my children, my roaches, I dunno-I dunno what more to give you.”

You can’t be bothered reading the comments, there’s too damn many. You also need to save your reading comprehension for the actual bios. It has a time limit, that darn thing. 

“Okay, so I made a profile earlier, but I hadn’t swiped on anyone yet-” Despite the fact, Tinder helpfully informs you that already 99+ people have swiped right on you, “So, this is me,” You show the pictures you have of yourself, and damn, not to be a conceited narcissist, but you look really good. Like if you saw yourself on Tinder, you’d super like instantly. “Uhm, so, my bio-my bio says: let’s sauce in the tub together, ya dig? splishy splashy, giggle giggle.” 

i cant believe we are witnessing y/n trying to form a coherent sentence live 

shes trying give her time

ya dig??? y not capeesh

what scene from the godfather is this lol?

“My anthem, is,” You laugh, covering your lips with your hand, “Corpsie, this is form you-” Proudly, you show that indeed, Corpse’s E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY FUCKING LIFE is listed as your anthem on Spotify, “Hehe.” Yes, you say that aloud.

Corpse_Husband: you’re killing me Corpse_Husband: thanks baby Corpse_Husband: now delete tinder ❤︎

You ignore his last quip, deciding it’s finally time to get this show on the road, “Right, let’s do this shit. I’m not actually going to swipe on any guys that look, uh, decent? Yuck, can’t believe I just said that, uhm, because I-because I feel like some actually deserve a chance with someone? I don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up, as I am currently in a long distance relationship with Chrollo. So I’m just gonna swipe on, like, frat boy assholes. Because I don’t care if I hurt their feelings. Quite frankly I don’t think they possess them in the first place.”

The chat voices their agreements. With the ground rules set, you, giddy, click on the first profile.

Does Tinder know what you’re doing, your plan? The FBI agent watching you through your phone must be working overtime, bless his heart. They must, because the the first guy to meet you is named Jason, and there he is, blond hair and blue eyes, holding up a fish the size of his torso. Marginally adequate in looks, pretty good muscles. A solid 7 bordering on 8. He’s the same age as you, 15 miles away, and he studies at some college you don’t care enough to look up. Bio reads:

I like to drive fast. Fishing is my passion, but if you can’t catch me by the ocean, you’ll catch me catching waves, bro! Love a good gym date. You do squats, and I’ll keep a close eye to make sure you’re doing it correctly ;) You probably saw me at a party. Leader of the The Phi Kappa Psi. I’m a Gemini, if that matters lol.

You, of course, read it aloud, dramatically; provide some constructive criticism-he seems nice, but he’s a Gemini, so naturally, you can’t trust him at all! Also, that gym date session leaves little to be desired. With your rant done, you swipe right, and shocker! (not), it’s an instant match.

“Okie, I still wanna swipe of some profiles, so I’ll see what he’ll text later-” For a second you wonder the legalities of this stream, but you’re having too much fun to think of it further, “guys, I won't get sued, right?”

NOW she considers it

well....

if you do, we’ll kickstart your lawyer dw <3

Onto the next profile. Kevin, 25, is seen fixing his car- or, you assume he’s mid-fixing it, you don’t really know why else he’d hold a wrench and be covered in oil. He’s shirtless, and the caveman part of your brain echoes something closely resembling AWOOOGA!, but...but!...blonde hair, blue eyes. You pout again, “I don’t...I don’t really like blond boys, ya know? With the blue eyes and all, it’s just not my thing, uhm, unless it’s like-like...Armin from Attack on Titan. Else I don’t care.”

Onto the bio:

You have to treat a car like you treat a woman: go on long rides, take the lead, but most importantly, keep her oiled up 😜 

“What the fuck did I just read?”

The chat is equally confused. You swipe right anyway- another match. Too easy.

The stream continues without incident for a solid thirty minutes- all of your matches, expect a few that genuinely looked like normal dudes that really couldn’t write a decent bio to save their lives, had been blond hair blue eyed gym rats with ranging forms of misogyny. Some opened with asking for nudes out right, some asked about your day first before asking for nudes. You prefer the former. Straight to the point! You admire the gall. 

But then, down the forty-five minute mark a profile popped up that made you still by your phone, your smile dying as your eyes bulged. Dear God. Lord in heaven. Who is this demonspiit lookalike and why is he so fucking hot? The neck tats, the skateboard, the clothes- holy shit, you gotta close your mouth before some drool dribbles out.

No bio, just his name, Tyler, and that he’s 23.

“He boutta be 23 in me.” You mutter, swiping right with lightning speed.

WHAT DID SHE SAYYYYY?????????

tyler is y/ns karma for relentlessly mocking that one guy that had a whole ass list on what his “female” partner should be

^he deserved it and also tyler seems like a typical fuckboi y/n grow a braincell

look at mom 🥺 her eyes are sparkling

It wasn’t a match right away. You somehow expected as much, but it still upset you. Simp behavior, pathetic. The stream continued bravely, and when Tyler messaged you a simple “yo” you totally didn’t sequel. You didn’t manage to text him back on stream: texting all those guys that you didn’t really find all that attractive was easy, but this...You’re a sucker for a man who radiates red flag energy. His whole profile is a red flag. He might just be a red flag himself.

What can you do? Suddenly becoming color blind is not easy. Once the stream ends, you unmatch with everyone expect Tyler. He you chat with for a bit, but a sudden craving for different company makes you abandon him, too. You don’t feel too heartbroken for him- you’re certain there’s already too many girls in his dms. You wish them luck.

Happily, you delete Tinder. You go to Twitter, notice you’re trending again- look at you go! Queen shit- and as you compose a thank you tweet, something strange happens. You go to text Corpse, but when you click on his profile you grow cold.

YOU’RE BLOCKED. You can’t follow or see @/Corpse_Husband ‘s Tweets. 

...Pardon? You hop onto Instragram and-also blocked. Seriously? And you thought you’re one petty bitch. Corpse is seriously prissy about everything. Damn, if he didn’t like your stream, he could’ve just said so. Didn’t need to, like, block you from his internet existence. So not cool.

You try texting him but no text go through. Well how will you let him know you deleted Tinder just like he asked? You relieve your frustrations by punching your pillow a few times. Later, you apologize to her, you didn’t mean to hurt her, it’s not her, it’s you. Fuck, 5 minutes of exile and you’re already loosing your mind.

“Raeeeeeeeeeeee!” You whine loudly. It’s roughly 2am now, but you don’t care. You’re too heartbroken to care. There’s a thump from her room, but nothing else, “Raeeeeeeeee!!!” You wail, wallowing in self-pity on your bed. You hear a very loud, very annoyed sigh from her room, followed by angry marching. Your door is abruptly thrown open, and in the dim, colorful light you see her scowl.

“What?” She grits.

“Can you please tell Corpse to unblock me from everything?”

“What did you do now?”

“I made fun of men on Tinder.”

She pauses, “...That doesn’t sound so bad.” She surmises, voice laced with suspicion, “What else?”

“...There was one really hot guy that I kinda sorta talked to after--”

“Y/n.”

“-But I totally deleted Tinder and honestly he was pretty boring, so, like, uhm, please?”

She sighs, the servery of which implies she is holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, and instantly you know that you won. She taps away at her phone, “You owe me one.” She states, and before you can reply, she exits your room and slams the door behind her.

Grinning, you text his phone again. The message goes through, oh gosh, you’re so relieved you feel like crying. This has been, officially, the worst five minutes of your life.

You Y DID U BLOCK ME LOSER!!! MAJOR LOSER ALERT!! I DELETED EVERYTHING IT WAS A JOKE r u still mad at me? y u always mad at me i never do anything:(

my husband You’re my baby, how do you think I’ll react when I see you publicly simping for some asshole on Tinder?

Oh no, he used the words, he delivered the killing blow. You’re finished. Your heart can’t take such a workout. 

Not that you would ever admit it to him, though!

You hehe ur jellyyyy u always dis jealous hehe?

my husband Not jealous.

Yeah, you might not be the brightest tool in the shed, but even you know that’s a lie. You send him an array of kissy emojis that he doesn’t have the decency to reply to. Then, completely unprompted and dead serious, you send him a simple voice memo, saying: “You really have nothing to worry about, you know? You’re my favorite, Corpsie.”

He responds via text, reiterating that he’s not fucking jealous and that he just doesn’t like when you show such outward interest in anyone but it’s not like he cares or anything. It’s just really, like, weeeeird to see his baby simping for another man like that totally ruins the whole dynamic!!! It was only natural that he should block you on every social media platform, including his personal number (which, like, was completely necessary! Doesn’t matter that his viewers can’t see it, it’s gotta be super believable!), and inform his followers of that, because it’s all a joke, like, for the dynamic, that Youtube grind, you know? Ya dig? No personal feelings were involved at all. He totally wasn’t upset that you found someone else cute, no way!

my husband I’m not jealous. Lol.

You ik u repeated tht like 50 times  u trynna convince me or??? lmao

my husband No comment. ...You don’t actually talk to anyone else like we’re talking, right?

You no one else calls me their baby if thts wat ur wondering at least not to my knowledge lol im all urs

my husband That makes me very happy to hear:)

Yeah, it makes you very happy, too.

hope you liked it!! xx

[charlies-gillespie]

and they were roommates | charlie gillespie

paring: fem!reader x charlie gillespie

summary: reader and charlie are roommates and they have fallen in love with each other

length: short-ish

rating: PG-13

warnings: fluffy content, a dumb little argument, and some nsfw content (no smut but some touching and teasing)

!! NOT MY GIF !!

MASTERLIST

author’s note: if you dont get the title of this imagine, we can’t be friends (jk)

another author’s note: psst i’m working on a two part series and part one may or may not be posted in about an hour

You wake up in the morning to hear Charlie blaring ‘Now or Never’ in the living room. You put on a large hoodie to cover up your tank top and tiny shorts before stalking out into the living room. You rub your eyes as you look at your roommate.

“Are you kidding me?” you ask, seeing that he’s actually playing ‘Now or Never’ on his electric guitar. “It is eight in the morning, Charlie.”

He looks at you and says, “I need to practice. Sorry.”

You walk over to the amp his guitar is plugged into and say, “Just practice without blowing out my eardrums, please. You don’t need an amp at eight in the morning.”

Charlie blinks at you and says, “I’m blessing your ears with my awesome guitar skills at eight in the morning. Appreciate it, Y/N.”

“I’d appreciate it more if you just turned it down a little bit,” you say, “Please?”

He smiles and says, “Only because you said please.”

“Thank you,” you say before walking up to your bedroom. You pull off the hoodie then crawl into bed and get comfortable.

After another hour, you wake up again and yawn. You sit up and see Charlie in your doorway. “Charlie?” you ask. “What are you doing here?” He’s wearing grey sweatpants with no shirt and you are caught a little off guard because he was wearing one of the Sunset Curve shirts he got.

He says, “I, uh, I was going to come wake you up but you looked peaceful so I didn’t want to wake you. I promise I wasn’t standing here and watching you sleep. Anyway, I was about to make some pancakes if you wanna come help.”

Pancakes grab your attention and you say, “I’m down for some pancakes. Let me put on my hoodie.”

Charlie says, “Yeah. Just meet me in the kitchen.” He turns to leave but he runs into the door frame. You laugh and he just walks off.

You put on the hoodie from before then leave your bedroom, closing the door behind you. You walk downstairs and see that Charlie has the pancake mix out on the counter. He’s putting water in a bowl and you walk up to him. You jam your fingers into his side playfully Charlie jumps and spills the water on himself. You gasp and step back.

He looks over at you and says, “That’s it.” Charlie throws the water in the bowl at you to get back at you.

“Charlie!” you whine. “You only got a little bit of water on you and you just soaked me. Now I have to take the hoodie off.”

Your roomie laughs and says, “So take it off, Y/N.”

As you reach down to pull off the hoodie, you say, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Gillespie.”

Charlie says, “I would.”

You pull off the hoodie and stare at Charlie. You blink at him and he quickly says, “Because you might get pancake mix on it. We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“Maybe you should take off the sweatpants since you got them wet too,” you say, playing at Charlie’s game.

He laughs and says, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Y/N?”

A smirk forms on your lips and you say, “Maybe I would.”

Without hesitation, Charlie pulls his sweatpants down. He’s just down to his boxers now. You’re only wearing a tank top and the tiny shorts you wore to bed last night and he’s only wearing boxers. The situation makes your mind wander to different situations that you’ve already thought of.

Charlie refills the bowl and puts it on the counter. You grab the pancake mix and pour that into the bowl filled with water. Charlie mixes as you get a pan ready. Both of you dance around the kitchen after you put on your Spotify playlist with your favorite songs. You use the spoon that Charlie used to sing into. He watches you with a smile on his face.

The two of you finish making the pancakes and you sit on the couch, watching episode 7 of Julie and the Phantoms. You watch the Perfect Harmony scene intently. Your eyes are on Charlie during the entire scene. You got to be there when he filmed that scene with Madison, and now you get to watch it whenever you want. Charlie looks good in the scene. His hair neatly done with the white button-up.

Your roommate notices how much attention your paying to the scene on the TV. Charlie teases, “You can never keep your eyes off me, can you?”

“You wish,” you scoff, getting off the couch. You walk into the kitchen to throw your plate away and wash the bowl and the pan that you used to make the pancakes.

As you hum Perfect Harmony to yourself, you feel someone come up behind you. You ignore it because you know it’s Charlie. He pulls your hair away from your neck and he says, “I can never keep my eyes off you, Y/N.”

Where is this coming from all of a sudden? You have no idea, but you don’t mind it. You’ve always to be this close to Charlie. Maybe not when you just ate pancakes and haven’t brushed your teeth yet, but you’ve wanted to be this close to Charlie for so long.

You feel Charlie’s fingers run down your side and he mumbles, “No matter how hard I try, I can’t keep my eyes off you.”

“What are you going to do about it?” you ask, turning off the water and turning around, facing Charlie. You stare up into his eyes as you’re pressed against the counter.

Charlie leans down a little bit and runs his fingers up over your stomach and your breasts. You shiver a bit as he touches you. “Charlie,” you whisper.

He cups your face in his hands. “God, will you just kiss me already?” you say kind of aggressively.

That’s what Charlie does. His lips crash to yours and hungrily move against yours. Charlie lifts you up so you’re sitting on the counter by the sink, your legs wrapped around his waist. All the tension that’s ever built between the two of you melts away as you kiss the man you’ve loved for a while now.

And little do you know that Charlie’s felt the same way about you since you showed up to set on day one.

You pull back from the kiss and look at Charlie. Both of you breathless from the kiss. You run your fingers through his hair and say, “Now’s a good a time as any to tell you that I’ve loved you for months.”

Charlie smiles and pecks your lips. “I’ve loved you since day one, Y/N.”

A breathy laugh escapes your lips and you ask, “What happens now?”

“How about I take you on a proper date?” Charlie asks.

You smile and nod. “I like the sound of that,” you tell him.

Then he brings his lips to yours again, but carrying you to the couch to continue the little makeout session between you two. Now that you have kissed him, you don’t know how you’ll ever stop.

[cattles-bians]

exes au part 10

post directory

obsetress:

obsetress: this is actually exes au owen and viola and i. hate it

obsetress: i think exes au owen and vi actually really get along like

obsetress: same w hannah and vi

obsetress: like hannah and owen just… water off a ducks back yknow

obsetress: hannah side eyes her a lil more than owen but they always enjoy joining dani n jamie when they go to vi and beccas sometimes

em: big dumb family

obsetress: my big dumb found family

em: i think owen and vi realise they have a mutual passion for: annoying the shit out of jamie

obsetress: rip jamie taylor

em: one day i will stop bullying jamie taylor but its not today!

obsetress: interesting how

obsetress: jamie no parents dani no parents viola no parents

em: (holds back tears) fascinating

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: viola late to brunch, coming from therapy: so have you all heard of reparenting

em: viola is um. peak ‘i don’t do small talk’ she just goes straight into. tell me about ur trauma

em: she doesn’t have time!

obsetress: which honestly tracks for all of them. jamie first date mum woz looez taylor

obsetress: but yeah viola like. all the time more so, can't be assed

em: damie taking the time to make a space for these nice little earnest heavy convos god bless and then violas like (slams take away coffee on table, startling damie, rebecca unphased) so. today in therapy

obsetress: yeah and like she says she's late because she's coming straight out of therapy but she had time to get her $12 cappuccino?

---

obsetress: vi walking into isabel's room n seeing her curled up w rebecca while rebecca reads her a bedtime story

em: ah

em: AH

em: Ahhhhh

obsetress: rebecca looks up n sees her looking and smiles softly back

obsetress: rebecca kisses isabel's forehead and pulls her covers up and slips out to meet vi in the hallway and then just. rests her palms against her chest and beams up at her

obsetress:viola's just kinda staring yk

em: i think a lot about how like, as a woman of her status viola was absolutely sharp as a razor

em: knew like five languages, a lady and a scholar type deal

em: like the closest we get to that mentioned is her insane business n strategy savvy but

em: idk! viola talk dirty to me in middle french

obsetress: all of the above

obsetress: exes au viola speaks french (because duh) n portuguese n mandarin i think

obsetress: yknow business and globalization and all that

em: beautiful

em: oh my god the horses i forgot abt the horses

obsetress: THE HORSES

em: idk enough about horse girl culture but she has that crop for a reason

em: and not just to make me flustered

em: exes au viola has a country mansion or a stable or whatever and an obscene flat

obsetress: her family home

obsetress: LONG WEEKENDS AT HER FAMILY HOME

obsetress: so much potential

em: she’s walking the grounds and she’s pointing out all of the history and violas face lights up for exactly two things

em: destroying a competitor and family

---

obsetress: idk if you've ever watched dead to me

obsetress: different context but, all i could think was

obsetress: vi and rebecca stay over at dani and jamie's once in a blue moon and dani's still asleep and rebecca's working out or smth and jamie wanders into the kitchen and viola's making a french press

----

em: maybe a little buzzed but perhaps. post break up toxic danvi

[spotify link to love me dead by ludo]

obsetress: now i’m thinking about how dani and vi def hook up after they break up and how it def happens multiple times :/

obsetress: dani tops vi every time :/

em: posts danvi post breakup hookup and falls asleep... a cage of my own making bc now I’m thinking about it

obsetress: it’s what you deserve

obsetress: i hope you think about it all day with no outlet because that’s definitely what i’ve been doing

em: i have an outlet i’m gonna draw horny art

obsetress: viola like. inviting dani to a meal post breakup for closure or whatever and dani knows better but she does it ANYWAY because part of her still feels..... y’know. there’s always gonna be something there

obsetress: and viola tells her she’s found a therapist and working on herself and dani just like

obsetress: they finish dinner and dani kinda looks at her and she’s like “can i come home with you?” all matter of fact

em: olivia rodrigo voice i guess that therapist i found for you she really helped (now you can be a better woman for your brand new girl)

obsetress: and then like. dani keeps leaving stuff or viola will be like oh i found another thing of yours and the second dani comes in every time they’re both just. all over each other

obsetress: anyway um dani likes it because she doesn’t have to worry about emotionally regulating viola and can grow and be her own person but then finally they’re in bed one night and vi’s like “what if you just... moved back in”

obsetress: and dani’s just like

obsetress: she YEETS

obsetress: and then they don’t talk for however long and live their lives and never see each other again until the video store

em: i love like um. messy constant on and off danvi

em: actually dani maybe you SHOULD stop fucking your ex

obsetress: honestly SAME idk how we didn’t think of this sooner

---

obsetress: also. remembered i came up with a bunch of stuff for kmd in my notes app when i was tryna fall asleep last night so i opened it up and

[Hannah Notes App Transcription:

Danvi exes - dani actually thinks shes v empowered hooking up with her ex lmfao she’s proud of herself for not getting emotionally involved and doing something for her and thinks thats growth fjdndnkdkf]

obsetress: dani after breaking up with viola, on her way to hook up with viola

em: dani is all my mutuals that are constantly rt things about growth and cutting off toxic ppl in her life n putting out good energy

em: like i um agree w the sentiment but ur not gonna catch me rting it

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: i love her

obsetress: she's so dumb

em: danis severe astrology phase

em: brief but severe

obsetress: her crystal collection

obsetress: i can't stop thinking about the whole. dani hooking up w vi after theyre broken up

obsetress: literally have not been able to stop thinking about it since

obsetress: ugh

em: drunk em is like

em: i dont know where that came from

em: i am terrified of where that came from

obsetress: just absolutely

obsetress: unhinged and so enlightened all at once

em: i cannot stop thinking abt it

obsetress: cannot! stop!

em: i think if dani isnt gonna necessarily be stuck w eddie for like. 2 decades she can get her fix of dumb bitch elsewhere

----

em: more damie vibecca parallels: phat ass gf and lean (well. scrawny mothefucker jamie taylor) gf

obsetress: jamie why are all the women around me always so hot taylor

dani and rebecca and viola: well, actually, you’re—

jamie: wot

em: a truck or a train or whatever goes past n blares its horn every time someone’s abt to reveal to jamie shes Hot

[ambitionsource]

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

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

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

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

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

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - NIGHT

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

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

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack: And I’m sure it will be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eric: What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A little vacation abroad would sure be nice… but alas. Important business to handle here. Jack offers a bittersweet shrug, nodding to the rest of the school behind them.

Jack: Duty calls. Should enjoy it while it lasts.

While he’s still principal, may as well act like it. Eric sighs, but accepts that, hefting his colossal trip binder into his hiking backpack.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

By the steps, MAYA HART finishes repacking her suitcase, trying to get it under the acceptable weight limit. ISADORA DE LA CRUZ is doing her the favor of sitting on top of it, while FARKLE MINKUS eyes the undertaking skeptically.

Farkle: It’s a class trip, Maya. How many pairs of shoes do you need?

Maya: It’s an affront that you even have to ask that question.

Isadora: It’s an affront that this thing weighs more than me.

Farkle: Probably more than both of us combined.

Isadora: You don’t add much.

Touché! Isadora is also going through Maya’s purse, making a face when she pulls out a folded up piece of paper. Maya’s acceptance letter to NYU Tisch.

Isadora: You carry this around in your purse?

Maya: Be careful with that!

She snatches it from her, smoothing out the corners.

Maya: You’ll crumple the edges. But yes, why wouldn’t I? It’s my greatest achievement to date -- sans your mom’s coat, of course. I like to think of it like a good luck charm. My aura cleanser even did a fortune ceremony on it, so it’s legit. [ marveling at it ] Look at it. Isn’t it lovely?

She gives it a little kiss, folding it back up and putting it back in the purse on Isadora’s lap. Isadora and Farkle exchange a look.

Farkle: At this rate, getting rejected might’ve been healthier for your sanity.

Maya flips her hair over her shoulder pointedly, shrugging. Too late now!

A few paces over, RILEY MATTHEWS double checks her backpack to make sure she has all her essential belongings. It’s her first time going overseas, and she’s clearly a bit nervous. But she’s got her ways to combat it, including a well-curated list -- one that LUCAS JAMES FRIAR walks through with her as she goes. He reads down the list, she confirms she’s got it.

Lucas, notably, doesn’t have a backpack or suitcase to fuss over. That’s because he isn’t going, a fact that Riley sympathetically remarks on once they’ve concluded her checklist. She takes his hands in hers.

Riley: I wish you were coming with us. It’s not going to feel right if you’re not there.

Lucas: Actually, I think it would feel wrong if I were there. Like some kind of weird, nonsensical blip in the universe.

Riley: Oh, please…

Lucas: I’m not cultured and I don’t have any money. Traveling out of state seems pretty out of character, let alone out of the country. Think I’d get sent to the embassy as an international prisoner just for existing.

Riley nudges him pointedly, earning a smirk in response. It’s too cute not to mirror with a smile of her own, but it doesn’t quite remove the melancholy from her tone.

Riley: I just… I feel bad. You should be there, you’re class president. And you know… with everything that’s happened in the last few weeks, I don’t wanna like… just leave --

Lucas: Riley. Seriously, it’s fine. I’m fine. And spending some time on my own is not going to be the thing that kills me. That’s how I used to prefer it.

Riley: I know, I know… before Comet Riley.

Lucas: And the world has never been the same. Look, I know it’s gonna sound insane when I say this, given my track record on… well, everything, but you don’t have to worry about me.

Easier said than done… but she knows in her heart he’s right. And even if she wanted to debate it, she runs out of time, as Jack and Eric march out from the hall and start rallying the troops to head out for the airport. Big journey ahead!

Harper: All right, everybody, grab your things -- all your things, double-check and make sure, yes I’m looking at you, Orlando --

Dylan: And I don’t blame you!

Asher: I’m triple-checking.

Harper: Then let’s move on out! It’s a brief bus ride to the airport and then a long eight hours to fly. Don’t want to be late!

Riley gears up to go, Lucas grabbing her backpack off the ground and helping her sling it on her shoulders. She reminds him not to forget about the favor she asked him to do while she’s gone, which he confirms. Then she remembers something else at the last second, quickly turning to face him again.

Riley: Oh, and tell me the moment you hear anything from Davis. I know the connection is gonna be spotty because we’ll only be able to talk on wi-fi, but seriously, if you hear anything, try to reach me. They have to say something any day now.

Oh, so Lucas hasn’t told her about the acceptance letter... or the potential scholarship… he pauses when the moment arises, then nods, assuring her he’ll do just that.

Riley: I’ll try to do the same for Tisch, if I hear from them, but you know, again, spotty connections --

Harper: Let’s go, Riley! Mister Friar will still be here when you get back!

Riley blushes, starting to back up towards the others as Lucas playfully urges her to go. But then she doubles back one more time, pulling him into a kiss goodbye. The moment lingers when they pull apart, Riley gently caressing his cheeks and holding his gaze.

Riley, softly but with intent: I love you.

Just in case he needs the reminder -- to tide him over for the week. Then she’s off, throwing him one last smile over her shoulder and blowing a kiss before she jogs to catch up with the rest of the class towards the back entrance where the bus awaits.

Jack comes to stand next to Lucas, the two of them watching the others head out. Jack smiles knowingly at the exchange he just witnessed, and clears his throat presumably to comment.

Lucas: Don’t say anything.

Jack: … all right.

His tickled smirk says plenty for him anyway.

INT. JFK INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - SECURITY CHECKPOINT - NIGHT

Before the fun can begin, though, they’ve got to get there -- and that might be the most stressful part. Eric waits on the other side of security and customs, counting off each student as they successfully make it through the process. He’s splitting his focus between that and making sure the ones who have already made it through don’t rush off.

Eric: Fourteen… fifteen -- techies, I said stay put until we’re all accounted for! Asher, will you please bring Nate back into formation? Sixteen -- Maya, do not argue with the customs agent!

Maya successfully makes it through, albeit in a huff, followed by SARAH CARLSON, DARBY WINTERS, and finally Harper to close out the group. She and Eric touch base.

Harper: Full count?

Eric: Full count. Thank God.

Harper: Well, at least the hard part’s over.

Eric: Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Just wait until we have to get them back in one piece.

They’re already exhausted. This should be international levels of fun.

Cue title sequence.

INT. JFK INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - TERMINAL - NIGHT

Eric and Harper have disbanded the group to explore the terminal, gathering rations and any necessary items for the journey. The techie boys are assembled just outside the entrance of Hudson News, eyeing some of the stuff on display.

Jeff: Y’all brought outlet adapters, right? You know their voltage is different than ours.

Dave, stunned: The Brits have their own electricity?! I am never gonna survive the culture shock.

Yogi: [ re: “shock” ] Literally.

Nate: Oh, bro, I know. And what if we don’t speak the language?

Dave: I know! I’m fucked!

NATE MARTINEZ cracks up, JEFF MONROE and NICK YOGI assuaging DAVE WILLIAMS’s concerns.

Moving past them, closer to the gate where their flight will be departing from, we shift focus to ZAY BABINEAUX. Next to him YINDRA AMINO is engaged in a seemingly riveting conversation with HALEY FISHER and CLARISSA CRUZ, but Zay isn’t paying attention. He’s zoned out, glued to his phone instead.

He’s logged into his application portal for Turner. His status still says “pending,” even weeks later when many people have already heard back. He keeps refreshing the page, willing it to change, yet of course it does not. He sighs, swiping the window up and away and landing back on the previous app he had open.

His messages app, and a specific contact at that. His text thread with Charlie, which had been steadily growing back to a healthy rapport but has essentially gone silent since his Turner audition. Since Zay kissed him, like an idiot, and then ran away like a coward.

It’s clear Zay wants that to be different. He wants there to be rapport, to break the ice he stupidly created, but he’s at a loss for how. Not to mention, he kind of figured Charlie would say something… maybe that’s stupid, given it’s Charlie, but it feels wrong to be the one to bother him when he’s the one who encroached on their lines in the sand.

Just another thing frozen in time, stuck “pending.” Zay frowns, slouching further in his seat.

Riley comes to join him with food for them to share, plopping down in the seat next to him. He quickly locks his phone, but it’s honestly not even worth the rush -- with his obsession lately, she already has her guess as to what he was looking at.

Riley: I hate to be the one to deliver this news, but you realize we’re not going to have much access to wi-fi on the trip? You’re not going to be able to check your email obsessively while we’re there. Such a tragedy... 

Zay: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Gimme my French fries.

Riley hands them over, eyeing his leg impatiently bouncing a mile a minute. She remarks he’s got plenty of energy stored up now clearly, so good thing he’s finally clear to dance again. He snorts, derisively eating a fry.

Zay: Yeah, just when I needed it -- oh, no, wait. That was weeks ago…

Riley: Still, you’re happy, aren’t you? I know I am. I can’t wait to see you dance again for real.

Zay: You’re unfailingly sweet, thanks. And yeah, of course I’m happy I got the all clear. It really just feels like… I mean, if it could’ve been a couple weeks sooner --

Riley: But there’s nothing you can do about it now. It’s done. And if it took Turner this long to contact you --

Zay: Reject me.

Riley: Then there’s nothing to say it’s going to happen any second we’re abroad on this trip. All this to say [ pretending to pull a cord from his forehead ] disconnect. I think you’ll have more fun if you do.

Zay: Maybe.

Riley: Besides, it’s not like you’re the only one who hasn’t heard back. It’s not totally out of the norm. I mean, Lucas hasn’t heard from Davis, I’m waiting on Tisch...

Yeah… interesting how Riley seems so calm and unbothered by that. Zay points out as much, that she is handling the whole uncertainty thing remarkably well. She shrugs. It’s hard to tell if she genuinely isn’t that invested, or if she’s just keeping her expectations low to avoid disappointment.

Point is, they’re about to go abroad for the first time, so they should focus on that rather than getting stuck on all the stuff here. Zay doesn’t argue with that perspective.

Zay: Believe me, I’m more than ready to get away from things in New York for a while.

Nonchalant as that statement is, Riley is smarter than that. She raises her eyebrows, immediately asking what’s going on aside from Turner that he’s trying to avoid. Zay focuses on his food instead, which only tips her off more. And she had noticed that conversation between him and Charlie seemed to have died down in the last couple weeks…

Riley: Oh my God. Did something happen? [ with dread ] You’re not fighting again, are you?

Zay: No. And we were never fighting.

Riley looks more than ready to disagree with that, but Zay cuts her off. Every time she tries to dig deeper, he dodges, nuh-uhing her until she gives up. If there is something going on, he’s clearly not going to talk about it.

And he’s not the only one. At the gate, Isadora sits on her own, headphones on as she watches something on her phone. Eric sits down next to her and greets her, but Isadora doesn’t notice. With a sigh, Eric taps Isadora on the shoulder. She jumps and looks up at Eric with wide eyes, pausing the video and moving her headphones to rest around her neck.

Eric: Enjoying yourself? [ a beat; Isadora shrugs ] How are you feeling about everything? The last time you flew or traveled a significant amount was for Valerie’s funeral. 

Isadora, dryly: I really appreciate the reminder.

When Eric doesn’t move on, but instead continues to wait for a proper response, Isadora shifts from her sarcastic defense system to allow a bit of vulnerability. 

Isadora: It’s difficult. I only used to fly between LA and New York, either because she wanted me back or had given up on me again. I feel like I did back then -- will this time work? Will I be accepted and loved? I know I’m not going to see her, but my anxiety isn’t really listening to that fact.

Eric nods in understanding and says that he expected as much. He suggests that she continue to challenge the thoughts, and keep herself distracted. 

Isadora: Kind of hard when all your friends are talking about where to go to college and your dad is asking you how you feel about your mom being dead. 

Eric: Fair enough. Should I just leave you alone, then? Or do you want to play an airport game? Guess Who, I Spy, that sort of thing.

Isadora considers this. 

Isadora: We could try to name as many of the periodic elements as we can. 

Eric: Maybe we should find Farkle for that one.

As Eric looks around, Isadora chuckles and tells him that it’s fine. She’s happy watching a documentary about whether we’re all living in a simulation or not. Seems like a great way to distract from anxiety…

Eric leaves Isadora alone, passing JADE BEAMON and NIGEL CHEY as he goes. They sit together at the gate, across from Isadora, sharing a bag of candy and excitedly discussing what they’re going to do on the trip. Nigel is particularly enthused about one location on their itinerary, his nerdom on full display.

Nigel: I mean, it’s Stratford-Upon-Avon. Birthplace of Shakespeare!

Jade, fondly: I know, I know.

Nigel: You don’t go to Shakespeare camp twelve years in a row only to not appreciate the chance to see the holy ground. It’s like… pilgrimage.

Jade: And don’t I feel blessed to witness it. Think seeing you see it is going to be more interesting than the place itself.

Nigel shrugs bashfully. Jade splits a piece of candy in two and hands half to him, which he happily accepts.

Nigel: Gotta say, yeah, it’s extra special considering I get to see such an important place with such an important person.

Jade’s turn to blush. She concurs, though, the two of them agreeing a lot of the excitement for the trip is just in that they get to be on it together. They’ve got it all planned out, how they’re going to spend as much time as possible taking in the sights together. Nothing but experiences to have, culture to absorb… just the two of them…

Well, not quite. Their quiet conversation is interrupted as the techie boys descend upon them, loudly and enthusiastically pouncing on Jade from behind as they crash into the row of seats backed against theirs. She jumps in surprise, then makes a deadpan expression as they all immediately start talking at once.

Jeff: All stocked up for the trip.

Nate: Check it, Pins N’ Needs! Got enough jelly beans in these pockets to last a lifetime, baby! And I’m packing major Double Bubble.

Dave: Jeff helped me pick out a travel adaptation --

Yogi: Aren’t your pockets going to get sticky?

Nate: You let me worry about that. You just wait ‘til I start blowing bubbs at 30,000 feet.

Dave: [ holding out the adapter to show Jade ] So I don’t get zapped by the British electricity.

Jeff: They’re going to throw you out the emergency exit.

Nate: Good thing I’ll have my Double Bubble to keep me airborne!

Jade, sharply: Boys. [ off their silence ] Don’t you remember what we talked about before we left? That little agreement we discussed about this trip?

Nate, Dave, Jeff, and Yogi exchange a look, thinking… then their glances shift to Nigel. He looks overwhelmed, not yet used to the usual techie tot rapid-fire, but he offers an awkward smile.

Ohhh, right. Jade is with Nigel. Simple agreement -- leave her alone.

Nate: Oh, riiiiight. Right, right.

Yogi: Quite right, luv.

Jeff: Don’t mind us. We’ll just be over here. Minding our own business.

Nate: Looking the other way.

Dave: Leaving you alone so you can be with your boyfriend.

Dave! Not so loud! Nate and Yogi tug Dave around so they’re facing the other direction, feigning disinterest and leaving Jade be. She releases a long breath through her nose, then offers Nigel a smile. He was saying?

Flight attendant, voiceover: Attention passengers. Flight 0103 to Heathrow begins boarding in just a few minutes…

INT. AIRPLANE - NIGHT

Passengers clog the aisles and rummage around their seats as boarding resumes, all the way towards the back of the plane where the A class basically has domain over the last few rows. Riley, Dylan, and Asher take up a row of three, avidly chatting as they buckle in. Harper is helping direct them to their proper seats, noting that they’re welcome to swap seats with each other if they wish only once they’re settled and within their share of the plane.

That’s news to Nigel -- and good news at that. He perks up from his seat in front of Yindra and Zay (paired by the window on the left side), then makes eye contact with Jade still hovering in the aisle making her way down to board. Yindra gasps.

Yindra: No way. Nigel Chey, are you ditching us?

Nigel: You’re sitting together. I’m not. I’m the third front wheel.

Zay: But you’re with us in our hearts. You’d really toss us aside so callously to sit with your girlfriend?

Nigel: You are the last person who should be making that accusation, or did you forget freshman year? [ off Yindra’s snort ] But to answer your question --

Jade catches his eye, nodding her head towards a couple of seats just two down in front of Zay and Yindra. Nigel spots an opportunity as Isadora starts to settle in, leaping for it.

Nigel: Yep. See you in London.

Zay and Yindra boo him as he jumps forward in the aisle, getting Isadora’s attention and asking if she’d be willing to swap seats. She hesitates, then sees Chai coming down the aisle behind Jade, and something compels her to agree. Nigel happily passes off his ticket and settles into her spot, waiting for Jade to make it next to him.

Only somehow there’s a mix-up, and things don’t go quite as planned. Just as Jade arrives at their row, Eric pops over. He’s surprised Nigel is seated there -- he was under the impression Isadora was supposed to be in this seat, but he digresses -- and he explains that somehow his ticket got mixed up and he’s ended up in the middle of one of the four-seat rows in the center. But he’s an older gentleman, as they know, and he isn’t sure a cramped flight sitting like that for seven hours will be very healthy… so would Jade be so kind as to be willing to swap with him so he can have the aisle?

Well... what are they gonna do, say no to their counselor? Jade sheepishly agrees, spinning to look at where Eric says is his old seat. Naturally, it’s smack in the middle of the techie boys.

Jade: You’ve got to be kidding me…

She makes her walk of shame over to them, the boys greeting her enthusiastically. Jade! Pins N’ Needles, back at it again! Eric settles down into the spot next to Nigel, giving him a friendly smile. Nigel returns it weakly, then glances over his shoulder -- Yindra and Zay are silently laughing at him, giving him cheeky middle fingers. That’s what he gets!

And, despite her quick moves, somehow Isadora has ended up with Chai as her seat partner. Chai seems enthused about it, but Isadora less so. She kind of tunes out even as Chai tries to chat with her, curling closer towards the window. Chai can obviously tell this isn’t typical girlfriend behavior, and thinks about saying something, but Isadora pulls her headphones back on.

Not much to be done about that, then. Chai tries to brush it off as nothing -- just travel nerves, maybe -- pulling out her book.

In a pair of seats to the right behind Harper, Maya and Farkle are settling in. She’s being oddly snippy with him, putting on a thin air of aloof as she questions whether he’s accepted his admission to USC yet. Ever since she found out about the business card, she’s been prodding him about it every day.

Farkle: I haven’t made any decisions yet. For the thousandth time.

Maya isn’t satisfied with that answer. She curtly says -- not for the first time -- that if she had an opportunity flying into her lap like that, she certainly wouldn’t be hesitating to take it. It’s deranged, is what it is. Self-sabotaging, perhaps. Farkle rolls his eyes at her theatrics, leaning back into his seat and knocking his head back.

Farkle: This is going to be a long flight.

Maya: Farkle, darling, you’re my best friend -- it’s going to be a long life.

You got him there, Maya! And with that, we’re ready for take off --

EXT. AIRPLANE - NIGHT

Night passes and brightens to day as the airbus makes its way over the Atlantic, making a timely and early descent into the United Kingdom. As the pilot’s voice welcomes us to London over the intercom, we get our first sprawling, establishing shots of the commonwealth.

INT. HEATHROW INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - DAY

The A class emerges through customs and gathers their things at the luggage carousel, grateful to be able to stretch their legs and move freely. Dylan does some cartwheels to loosen up -- guess the American circus really has arrived! Yindra and Zay pick on Nigel when they reunite with their bags. Did he enjoy his flight with Eric, his best friend?

Nigel: I will have both of you know that Counselor Eric is a lovely conversationalist. You can stay mad.

Oh, ho ho! Big talk! Eric passes him and thanks him for the compliment, embarrassing Nigel and causing Zay and Yindra to crack up. Then he beckons them all out towards the bus -- it’s time to kick this trip off for real!

EXT. LONDON - VARIOUS LOCATIONS - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “London Calling” as performed by The Clash || Performed by AAA Seniors

The A class file onto a double decker BUS as the guitar and drums start, a friendly if bland tour guide called SIMON greeting them once they’ve all taken seats on the open top deck. He’ll stay with them for the entire trip, but the double decker bus is only for today. 

They set off around the streets of London, the unofficial British anthem the soundtrack for our montage of them enjoying -- and exploring -- the views. They drive past the electric billboards of Piccadilly, Cleopatra’s needle, a large statue of Queen Victoria -- all the while taking pictures and listening to Simon’s narration of the city (which, perhaps thankfully, we can’t hear).

As they drive past Trafalgar Square, we cut to them exploring that same location. They’re sped up to match the tempo of the song and the chaotic nature that is tourist sightseeing tours. The techie boys sit atop the iconic lion statues while Maya, Farkle, Riley, Isadora and Zay walk in a line in unison to the beat, heads bobbing and knees bent like Madness in the One Step Beyond music video and cover art.

Back in the bus, we see that while Jade and Nigel managed to sit together this time, they’re both peacefully snoozing. Yindra laughs and takes a picture of them.

They pass the Tower of London and the Tower Bridge, then we see them arrive at the British Museum. 

Simon, flatly: I’m very excited to show you all the many things that British colonists stole from people all around the world and that we still refuse to give back to the rightful owners.

We see members of the A class posing in front of various different statues and artifacts throughout the museum -- Maya and Yindra with the Pharaohs of Egypt; Dave and Nate with the Easter Island head; Nigel and Jade with the Rosetta Stone; Farkle, Isadora, Riley, Asher and Dylan mimicking the poses of the Elgin Marbles as best they can considered each figure is missing a significant amount of limbs; Sarah, Darby and Chai in front of the painting Dancers Practising at the Barre by Edgar Degas.

We return to Trafalgar Square to see Nate being chased by two BOBBIES, one of whom is missing his hat. Nate shouts gleefully as he runs past his classmates, police hat proudly on top of his head. He provides the “ow ow ow owww!”

Eric struggles to keep up with the bobbies and pauses to catch his breath. Riley hands him her water bottle. 

The bus drives past Buckingham Palace while Maya teaches everybody how to do the royal wave. Then the Science Museum, which Simon seems more much interested in. Farkle and Isadora are hot on his heels. We see the enormous dinosaur skeletons, the great whale, the wacky mirrors that distort your image, the escalator that takes you up into the centre of a volcano.

By the time the class are climbing back onto the bus after the science museum, they’re full of energy, excitedly chatting while Harper and Eric drudge behind them. Simon, on the other hand, shows no signs of either energy or lack thereof -- or any emotions at all, really.

The class groove on top of the bus, dancing around and laughing together while Nate provides more wolf calls. They shout-sing the lyrics together, having the time of their lives. 

With the very last clash of the drums, Nate tosses the police hat back to the bobbies and sprints away with the other techie boys, cracking up. 

We’re in for one exciting trip, folks!

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Back in the states, a perfectly normal school day at Adams is progressing as usual. Only the news that Lucas shares with Jack as they sit in their usual spots across from one another is far from it -- he informs him about his tentative admission to Davis, and that he’s up for a potential scholarship (something he sorely needs). Jack is stunned, then elated, nearly getting to his feet.

Jack: Lucas, that’s fantastic! Congratulations.

Lucas: Um, yeah. Thanks. I mean, doesn’t really matter if I don’t get the money, since I still haven’t made enough on my own and it’s going to take like, everything I’ve got either way, but --

Jack: But still. This is a major accomplishment. I know how hard you worked. You should be proud of yourself.

Lucas is obviously uncomfortable with the effusive praise, as nice as it is. So he brushes it off, shifting instead to the reason why he told Jack in the first place. He was hoping that he could give him a ride to his interview. It’s a ways upstate for some reason, and he’ll never be able to borrow the family car for that long.

Jack is, of course, more than willing to do so… until Lucas mentions the date.

Jack: Tomorrow? [ reluctant ] I’m sorry, I can’t. I already have a prior engagement.

Lucas: Oh… oh.

Well, shit. That’s what you get for hiding your small victories until the last minute. Jack frowns, obviously wishing he had a different answer.

Jack: I’m sorry. If I could shift around these plans, I would, believe me. But it’s not exactly within my control.

Lucas: No, it’s um -- it was my mistake waiting so long to -- no, yeah, it’s cool. Thanks anyway.

Jack: You’ll figure out something else, I’m sure. You’re nothing if not resourceful.

Lucas: Yeah… yeah, definitely.

But Lucas doesn’t seem very convinced. Jack can tell he’s deflated, but there’s not much he can say to improve the situation. Lucas escapes before he can even try, claiming he better get back to class -- he and Shawn have lots of work to do, sitting around doing nothing as the only two left.

EXT. LONDON EYE - DAY

The A class arrive at the final destination of their city tour: the London Eye. It looms above them, slowly going round against the London skyline. It’s a magnificent thing to behold, but the techie boys seem disappointed. 

Nate: Is this it? I thought it was meant to be the best ferris wheel in the world. 

Dylan: It’s barely even moving. Is it broken? 

Dave: Where’s the other eye? Is London a cyclops?

The tour guide listens to these complaints in horror. Eric can only mutter an apology, but Simon takes it in his stride and uses the opportunity to explain the history of the London Eye. Farkle listens keenly while Nate and Dylan ask as many ridiculous questions as they can. Leaving the class in safe hands, Eric and Harper go over to the ticket stand to collect their pre-booked tickets. 

Simon: Does anybody know how many capsules there are on the Eye? 

Chai: Thirty-three, right? 

Simon: Close, but not quite.

Isadora’s hand shoots up. Simon nods at her, allowing her to answer. 

Isadora: There are thirty-two capsules. When numbering them, they skipped thirteen for good luck, so they’re numbered one to twelve, then fourteen to thirty-three. There are thirty-two boroughs in London, so each capsule represents one of them. It’s a common misconception that there are thirty-three boroughs, but the City of London isn’t actually classed as a borough.

Simon: You’re exactly right, Miss De La Cruz! But I will kindly ask you not to take over my job in future. London is a very expensive place to live and I need rent money.

Isadora blushes but has a proud smile on her face. Next to her, Chai looks a little irritated at being shown up, given that she was the London transfer for a whole year. Rather than dwell on it, she returns her attention to Simon, who goes through the thirty-two boroughs that the capsules represent.

On their way back from the ticket stand, Eric and Harper pass a man with a basket full of roses.

Rose seller: What a lovely couple! Miss, wouldn’t you like your boyfriend to get you one of my roses?

He holds out a rose, smiling innocently. Harper and Eric meet eyes and struggle not to laugh.

Harper: We’re both gay.

The man falters, realising his mistake, and steps back to allow them on their way. He spots an actual couple walking towards the queue hand in hand, so skips over towards them. A smattering of the A class watches him go, having tuned out of the history lecture.

Yindra: What a guy. Wouldn’t want to have that job.

Zay: I wouldn’t spit on it. That might be you in Los Angeles in a few months.

Yindra elbows him pointedly. Asher shakes his head, watching the rose seller try to convince another group.

Asher: Could never be me. Walking up to strangers like that is a nightmare.

Dylan: Gotta respect the hustle. I love talking to random people. [ brightly ] Maybe I should do that.

Asher: Please don’t.

Dylan: I could sell my cookies. You’d buy food from a stranger on the street, right?

Zay: That’s what the hot dog vendors in Manhattan do every day and they’re considered a staple. Follow your heart, Orlando.

Jade: I don’t know about street food, but I would totally go for one of the flowers. Those roses are beautiful, look at them.

Nigel takes note of her reaction, but the moment passes pretty quickly. When Eric and Harper rejoin the group, focus drifts back to them. Simon finishes his list of boroughs and Eric takes over, announcing that they have to split up into two groups.

Eric: There would only be enough room for four more people if we were all in a capsule together, and since we didn’t specifically book to have one to ourselves, they’ve asked if we can split up so that we don’t prevent other, smaller groups from being together. 

Maya: That can’t be right. I remember specifically requesting we had a capsule to ourselves in my proposal for the trip schedule.

Eric: If you want to fork over the extra cash, then sure thing.

Maya admits defeat. Eric announces that he’ll take ten of them, and Harper will have nine. But aside from that, they’re all mature enough to sort out the groups themselves.

That’s giving them a lot of credit. Haley and Clarissa cling onto each other for dear life as everyone begins moving around. They stand in front of Harper and stay there, determined not to get split up. Jade and Chai both have the same idea, each trying to get a hold of Nigel and Isadora, respectively. Chai successfully ends up standing in front of Eric along with Isadora, Darby and Sarah, but Jade and Nigel are less fortunate. Yindra loops her arm through Nigel’s and moves him over to Eric’s side where Zay is waiting, while Dave rests his chin on top of Jade’s head, anchoring her to her place by Harper.

Riley, Dylan and Asher are chatting merrily in Eric’s group, while Maya and Farkle are still undecided. Farkle is happy wherever, but Maya is having a hard time picking between being stuck with Dylan and Asher -- but having Isadora, Riley and the plastics -- or being with the rest of the techie boys. She decides that she can just stay on the other side of the capsule as Dasher, and walks towards Isadora and the plastics.

While Maya moves towards them, Isadora realises that she will take them up to eleven, meaning somebody will have to move. Neither Eric nor Harper have realised that Eric’s group is already full. She looks between Chai, who has her back to Isadora while she chats with Darby and Sarah, and Farkle, who frowns as he realises the same thing about the numbers.

He’s about to speak up and call Maya back over to Harper’s side, but Isadora uses the opportunity to get away from a potentially uncomfortable situation and darts over towards him. She grabs Farkle’s wrist and pulls him properly into Harper’s group before he knows what’s happening.

When Maya joins Darby and Sarah, she realises that Isadora is no longer there and turns around. Chai notices the same, both of them frowning in confusion at Isadora. She avoids eye contact with both of them, turning and letting Harper know that the groups are done. 

Harper: Oh, thank you Isadora. Eric, I think we’re ready. 

There’s no chance for anybody to voice their displeasure at the arrangement, with Eric already setting off towards the queue. Farkle looks down at Isadora, confused and a little concerned. 

Farkle: What happened?

Isadora: Hm? Oh, I... noticed that Jade was the only techie girl on this side so I wanted to join her. Maya and I must have ended up swapping somehow.

Farkle doesn’t look convinced, but Jade mumbles a thank you while watching after Nigel.

As they join the queue, Simon waves the group goodbye. Once all of their backs are turned, his customer service smile drops. 

Simon, sighing: Americans…

Americans, indeed.

EXT. LONDON EYE - QUEUE - DAY

Now split up, the A class settles into distracting themselves while waiting in line. Yindra and Riley pass the time by playing I Spy, assuming incorrectly that Zay is paying attention and playing along. But he’s not, staring into space and lost in thought as the girls survey the scenery. It’s like they’re not even in another country -- Zay could just as easily be sitting in Cory’s history class, bored out of his mind, for all the energy he’s giving right now.

Yindra is quick to call him out on it, raising an unimpressed eyebrow when her gaze settles on him during her turn.

Yindra: I spy with my little eye something short, yellow, and boring.

She snaps in front of his face, snapping him out of it. He swats her hand away, Riley laughing along as they point out he is completely on another planet.

Zay: Also, don’t insult me -- this shirt is gold, not yellow. Get it right.

Riley: I thought we agreed at the airport that we were going to live in the moment. Seize the day. Enjoy the trip and not get lost in our own heads.

Yindra: Please, don’t even bother. He’s been like this for weeks. At this point, I’m begging for Turner to get back to him so I can be put out of my misery.

Zay: Look, it’s easy for you to say, all right? You can afford to be chill about it, you don’t have a dream school.

Yindra: That’s right. You know what I’ve got? The dream. And at least in chasing that into the uncertain future, I’m not totally dialing out of right now. Like, we’re in London, Zayby. Drink some tea. Take the tube. Kiss a dude with an accent. Carpe diem.

Yeah, okay, Zay will not be doing that. And he doesn’t need the reminders or reprimands. He gets it, they’re in London, they’re in London, they’re in London… but what does locale matter, really, when your heart, mind, and soul feel thousands of miles away? Always tantalisingly out of your reach?

Suffice to say, it’s not going to be so easy to pry Zay out of his own head -- so for now, well, we’ll just have to go into it with him.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Kiss of Venus” as performed by Dominic Fike (feat. Paul McCartney) || Performed by Zay Babineaux

As the music-box-like opening twinkles in, Yindra waves Zay off and gives up on him, letting him drift back into space. And he does, directing his gaze upward towards the giant ferris wheel and the skyline of London behind it.

Yep, they sure are in the UK… as he sings the first opening lines, somewhat detached, we slowly ease in closer to his face…

EXT. LONDON EYE - MIRROR WORLD - DAY

Until we’re close enough that it’s darkness and a blur, then we’re pulling back out, still with Zay as he continues to sing -- only everything’s flipped around. We’re occupying his mindscape, free from the conventions of reality, and with a lot of new ground to discover. He starts walking backwards on the beat, his trendy kicks stomping against the pavement, quickly reminding us that he finally, blissfully has full control of his limbs again.

And with that beautiful fact being the truth, it doesn’t take long for him to break into dance. He launches into movement as he breaks into the first chorus, the scenery of London taking more vivid shape around him.

From there, the performance acts as an artistic, groovy snapshot of this new city we’re suddenly inhabiting. Zay explores iconic landmarks and imagery of London as he goes -- dancing along the edge of the fountain in Trafalgar Square; grooving unapologetically in front of the stone-faced Queen’s Guardsmen stationed in the city; riding center in a crammed tube carriage and staring dead at the camera as he sings.

About a minute in, we’re close on his face again, and he seems to be laying down facing up at us… and as we ease out, we realize he’s not just laying in any old place. He’s on the clock face of Big Ben -- yes, the Big Ben -- his limbs mocking the movement a second hand. As the bridge continues, the screen slowly starts to tilt upright, Zay adjusting with it until he’s balancing sideways on the structure.

And this launches us into the electric second half of the number, where he really leans into the energy, fantasy, and freedom of the performance. Each of his sceneries becomes a little less restrictive and more bent to his creative will -- the tube carriage is empty now, allowing him to swing on the hand rails and climb along the seats; he’s splashing and spinning in the water in the Square; he’s now dancing amidst the whole brigade of the Queen’s Guard as they run through the changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace.

In case the message wasn’t loud and clear already -- we’re in London! We get it! More importantly, it’s so good to see Zay Babineaux moving again. Even as the song peters out and we return back to mundane, rules-of-physics-following reality, there’s a lingering energy from the mere sight of seeing him dance that sprinkles a little more magic into the scenery than before.

INT. LONDON EYE - CAPSULE 1 - DAY

Farkle is getting a good look at the view of the city from so high up, Isadora coming over to join him. She asks if it looks any different from the last time he was here, and he admits he honestly can’t remember. It was a long time ago that his family visited. He asks her a question in return, wondering aloud why she isn’t on the same capsule as Chai.

Farkle: You’d think you would’ve fought a little harder to stay together. You know, given that she’s your girlfriend.

Isadora: [ with a scoff ] It’s not my fault the class got split up. What would you have me do? Bully the tour guide into letting me jump groups?

Farkle: You have bullied less deserving people for less pressing things.

Isadora: No clue what you’re talking about. I’m a fucking delight.

Farkle snorts, earning a playful sneer from her. As charming as her deadpan delivery is, Farkle isn’t completely won over by it. Because what it really signals is that she’s avoiding answering the question, which isn’t like her at all. Farkle tries to dig deeper, asking if everything is okay between her and Chai.

Isadora: Yes. Yeah. Duh. [ defensive ] Why wouldn’t it be?

Farkle: Maybe the fact that you’re standing in this carriage arguing with me rather than enjoying time with her.

Isadora: As if bickering with you isn’t the joy of my existence.

Farkle: I’m not trying to like, judge, or whatever. I’m just asking if --

Isadora: What do you want me to say, Farkle? I said it was fine. I mean, what, do you want there to be a problem? Do you want me to tell you everything’s gone weird and I don’t know how to fix it?

Dangerous questions, Isadora! Don’t ask something like that! She’s asking it in a rhetorical way, totally unaware of the fact that Farkle doesn’t know how to honestly answer that question -- to her, or for himself.

Lucky him, he’s spared from addressing it when their conversation is interrupted. An ELDERLY WOMAN -- the kind who can’t help but share their opinion in an overly friendly way -- breaks away from her ELDERLY HUSBAND to tell them their back-and-forth is really quite loud.

Farkle: Oh, sorry about that. We’ll quiet down.

Woman: Oh, no no! Don’t mind me, loves. I find it a bit amusing to be frank -- reminds me of me and my husband here. We can bicker up a storm.

Husband: [ making her point ] No we don’t.

Woman: Married fifty-seven years, if you can believe it. [ cheerfully ] You two make an adorable couple.

Um? The two of them exchange a look, Isadora bewildered and amused whereas Farkle seems slightly panicked.

Isadora: We’re not --

Farkle: It’s not like that, we’re just --

Woman: [ ignoring their protests ] Do you want a picture? The backdrop of the city really can’t be beaten from this angle. It’s so gorgeous, isn’t it?

God, old people… really can’t keep up with them. Farkle stammers, searching for a polite way to reject the well-meant but misguided offer. But Isadora surprises him even more.

Isadora: Sure.

Farkle stares at her as the woman chirps happily, needling her husband to come take the photo because he has less shaky hands. Isadora passes over her phone, only noticing Farkle’s expression when she steps closer for the photo. She shrugs.

Isadora: What? A picture’s a picture. Might as well preserve the memory, right?

Well… yes… but… hard to argue with that. Farkle relents, still a bit stiff, but he’s not going to pass up the opportunity for a keepsake when Isadora is rare to photograph as it is. He manages to pull together a smile as they huddle together and he drapes an arm around her shoulders. His gaze lingers on Isadora as she steps forward to retrieve her phone, thanking the nosy tourist.

INT. LONDON EYE - CAPSULE 2 - DAY

Speaking of nosy women, Riley is taking some photos of her own. She’s capturing as much of the view as she can in her phone, but it obviously can’t replace the real thing. She seems dissatisfied by that fact, only pulled out of scrutinizing her work when Asher stumbles over to join her. He blindly finds the rail and holds onto it for dear life, eyes screwed shut.

Riley: [ with a chuckle ] What are you doing?

Asher: I’m such an idiot. I’m an idiot, Riley -- you are Riley, right?

Riley: Yes, rest assured. I’m actually surprised you’re on this. Aren’t you scared of heights?

Asher: Yes. Yes, I am. But I thought, why not, what better a time to conquer my fears. Gonna be doing a lot of it in the next few months, might as well start now. When in London, right? Wrong. So, so wrong.

Riley aws in sympathy, patting his back and then looping her arm through his to help brace him further. She focuses on distracting him, explaining that she’s trying to take as many photos as possible to show Lucas when they get back. She knows he said he didn’t care, but…

Asher: No, no, I think that’s nice. He’ll appreciate it. You know Lucas claims he doesn’t care about everything when he actually does like seventy percent of the time.

Riley: Yeah. I mean, he honestly probably won’t care much about the London stuff.

Asher: True. He barely tolerates Manhattan.

Riley: But later in the week when we go to like, the parks and the nature reserves and stuff… you know he’d love that. He’d act like he wasn’t into it, but he so would be. So I’ll just try to bring as much back to him as I can.

Asher: For sure. He’s lucky he has you.

Maybe it’s the crippling anxiety talking and blocking his usual filter, but Asher usually isn’t one for such casually stated declarations, so Riley takes the sentiment to heart. It’s nice to hear Lucas’s best friend say something so validating. She smiles to herself.

Riley: Anyway, I’m planning to show the pictures to Charlie, too. He loves travel and history and that sort of stuff, so I’m sure he’ll want to see all of it. So either way, won’t go to waste.

Asher: Oh, yeah. Sucks that he didn’t get to come after three years of sticking out of the worst of what Adams has to offer.

Yeah… a lot of things have felt that way with Charlie this year. But he’s got plenty of his own going on this week while they’re traipsing across the pond.

As the gentle, unassuming guitar floats in…

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “New Start” as performed by Weary Friend || Performed by Charlie Gardner

CHARLIE GARDNER’s soft vocals drift in as we settle in his bedroom. A couple of boxes have cropped up in corners of the room, one of them labeled “donations.” Inside are discarded pieces of the Haverford uniform, the first willing sacrifice to the specter of college packing.

And I’m packing up and I’m moving out And I’m walking across the stage into a world that I’ve never seen

On the back of Charlie’s desk chair, a pale blue graduation gown is folded -- on the desk, his cap and high school diploma.

So it’s done. A graduation come and gone, just like that. When everyone else was halfway across the globe -- another important walk made alone.

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

On his balcony, CHARLIE GARDNER is seated with his guitar, delicately strumming through the notes. He’s dressed plainly in a tee shirt and jeans, not dressing to impress or concealed behind a uniform, and his hair has grown back out long enough that pieces of it are falling in his face as he focuses on the strings. Despite the mixed emotions of the song, he appears at ease -- honestly the most relaxed he’s looked in months. No more selling himself for applications, no more blackmailing peers.

And they ask me where I’m going And they ask me what I see ahead But if I’m being completely honest…

The threats of the past are done now. All that’s left is the daunting uncertainty of the future. Charlie pauses for a moment, taking a breath… then he exhales into the final line of the verse.

I can’t see a thing

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - FLASHBACK - DAY

As the performance continues, a flashback allows us to actually see Charlie graduate. He rises the steps to the stage and crosses with a bashful smile to accept the diploma from AARON JACKSON. In the audience, ELEANOR GARDNER watches with tears in her eyes, AMBROSE GARDNER applauding proudly next to her.

Charlie glances towards them as he begins his exit from the stage, smiling wider when he locks eyes with ROSIE GARDNER. She’s applauding too, trying to look unimpressed, but she can’t hold back her smile. AGATHA GARDNER and DAISY GARDNER are also present, cheering along.

As he disappears into the darkness of the wings --

INT. DANCE STUDIO - FLASHBACK - DAY

At about two minutes in, Charlie emerges into an empty dance studio at a local fitness center, flicking on the lights. Plain-clothed, free for the summer, left to his own devices.

No one else around to follow. No group choreography to adhere to, no brotherhood to obey, no expectations. But he wants to dance. He wants to reconnect, find that piece of his identity again.

So he does. Slowly, imperfectly, but it’s a new start. As the music swells into the orchestral middle, Charlie rediscovers dance, pursuing and practicing the art solely for himself.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

At the same time, intercut with the lyrical, improvised choreography in the studio, Charlie starts the strange process of going through his stuff in preparation for college packing that we see in progress in the present. He discards his Haverford stuff, tossing it haphazardly into the donations box.

It gets harder, though, when the decisions aren’t so surface-level. Like old photographs, books, notebooks from Adams with notes in the margins -- nervous notes to self, scribbled conversations with Clarissa and Haley, teasing doodles and messages in Zay’s chicken scratch from studying together.

It’s easy to discard the things you’re ready to let go of. The rest, not so much.

INT. DANCE STUDIO - FLASHBACK - DAY

As the orchestration winds down, Charlie finishes a fouette turn and lands without stumbling -- a promising sign if anything. He lowers himself into a sitting position, then exhales a breath and falls onto his back, laying in the center of the dance floor and staring up at the ceiling.

I used to think that when I was grown up I’d have my life figured out I’d know exactly who I was, I’d be set in my ways not needing to change

INT. OLD DANCE STUDIO - FLASHBACK - DAY

In a different studio, dated and decorated like the late 2000s, a YOUNG CHARLIE GARDNER lays at the center of the dance floor the exact same way, staring up at the ceiling. Smaller, geekier, yet doing the same cool down, centering routing. Finding solace in the quiet of the studio even so many years ago.

But now that I’m here, I feel more like a child Still learning my lessons and needing direction Still needing direction…

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

As the piece swells into the final crescendo, Charlie leans into it, emotional and vulnerable. Many pieces come together in tandem with his simple vocals on the balcony, interweaving around one another. Photographs of him as a kid on the mantle in the living room, the same ones he scrutinized at the start of Season 2 during “I Hope I Get It,” now share space with his senior portrait. He continues to dance solo in the community center studio, while his younger, less polished self does the same.

He brings it all to a close back on the balcony, letting the final chords reverberate for a moment before he releases the strings. For a moment, he stays still and enjoys the quiet, the slow bleed of the familiar soundscape of the Upper East Side returning to focus around him. The distant echo of traffic. The coo of neighborhood birds. The chatter of neighbors down the street.

His home, for at least a little while longer -- before he ends up who knows where. Then he releases a sigh, taking his guitar and stepping back inside his bedroom.

EXT. LONDON EYE - DAY

The A class recongregates on the sidewalks, Riley’s group still trickling in from being released from the wheel. While Eric and Harper avidly attempt to head count and take attendance, Maya greets Farkle as he returns. She asks what he thought about the view.

Maya: Like, it was nice and all that, but eh. I’ve seen better.

Farkle: It was cool. Someone even took a picture of me and Isadora.

Maya: Oh? Paparazzi already.

Farkle: Yeah. She said we made “a cute couple.”

Maya cracks up, shaking her head. She takes his hand, patting it with her own.

Maya: Oh, Farkle, sweetie. No one would say that to you.

Farkle holds out his free arm in indignation. Well, it happened! Still, Maya remains unconvinced -- and thoroughly tickled.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - RILEY’S ROOM - NIGHT

The rooming arrangements for the trip are… unique to say the least, considering Eric had to balance gender, sexuality, and a handful of romantic entanglements that he’s trying not to enable. That explains how Riley, Isadora, and Dylan ended up as roommates, though they seem more than content with the grouping.

Well, at first Isadora does, until her chatty roommates shift onto topics she’d rather not discuss. It starts with college, a reality she’s trying to ignore, as Riley points out this whole exercise in travel is probably good for a lot of them in preparing for whatever journeys they’ll make for the future. She also notes it’s good practice being away from Lucas with this kind of time difference -- if he goes to Davis, like she’s hoping he will, they’ll be dealing with this distance all the time.

Dylan: Totally. But you guys are going to be fine. You’ve never been like super clingy or anything. And you’re already used to him being a terrible communicator even when he’s right in front of you. Won’t have to worry that distance is causing that when you know he’s like that all the time.

Isadora: That is actually so true.

Dylan: I think the much more pressing question is how are you ever going to survive being away from me? When I’m all the way in Rochester, a whole five hours away?

Riley: I know, you’re so right… well, I guess I just have to get my fix now!

Riley surges forward and tackles Dylan with a hug, the two of them collapsing into a giggly heap on their bed. Isadora eyes them, rolling her eyes affectionately. Once they’ve rearranged themselves into some semblance of a cuddle pile, Dylan conspiratorially continues the conversation.

Dylan, jokingly: Do you think Lucas would be jealous that I’m sharing a bed with you?

Riley: Considering you’re the gayest teen in Manhattan and are happily dating his best friend? No, I think he’ll live. [ coyly ] Besides, believe it or not, Lucas and I have shared a sleeping space… more than once already.

The statement itself is factual, nothing objectionable about it, but the message is all in Riley’s mischievous delivery. They may not have had sex yet, but the extracurricular implications are clear enough even Isadora catches on. Dylan gasps in faux shock, which Riley rolls her eyes at.

Dylan: OMG… Miss Riley...

Riley: Which you already knew.

Dylan: [ another gasp, then a beam ] I did. I did already know that actually.

As cute as Dylan and Riley’s friendship is, their comfort and casual intimacy in talking about sex is pretty much the last thing Isadora wants to hear. The context of Lucas and Riley is bad enough when she has to confront it, but on top of her own recent choices, she can’t stomach it.

Isadora: Are you going to be like this all trip? If I knew I was getting Elle Woods’ sorority sisters for roommates, I would’ve asked Eric to switch my room assignment.

Yikes. Dylan and Riley quiet down immediately, exchanging an uncertain look. To engage or not to engage… just as Riley opens her mouth to ask if everything is okay, there’s a knock at their door. Dylan climbs up to get it, pulling open the door where Chai is waiting on the other side.

Perfect timing… Isadora immediately gets to her feet, Dylan offering Chai a smile before stepping back to make room. He goes and rejoins Riley on their bed as Isadora approaches the doorway, the two eyeing the couple with interest and sharing another tacit exchange.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - CORRIDOR - NIGHT

Isadora steps out into the corridor, shutting the door gently behind her. Chai gives her a smile, but it’s tight and doesn’t reach her eyes. 

Chai: Thought I’d come by and say goodnight before lights out. 

Isadora: Oh, okay. Goodnight.

Isadora begins to turn, but Chai reaches out and places a hand on her arm to stop her. Isadora flinches at the unexpected contact, pulling her arm away and rubbing the spot where Chai’s hand was.

Upset, Chai crosses her arms. She tries to start a conversation, but her heart isn’t in it, and she can tell that Isadora would rather be talking to anybody else. 

Chai: Are you okay? You haven’t been like yourself. 

Isadora: Probably just jetlag. I’m super tired. 

Chai: Yeah, maybe. [ a beat ] But you haven’t really been yourself for a while now. Are you sure --

Isadora, snapping: You haven’t really known me that long, though, have you? You’re not my therapist or Eric, so please don’t pretend like you know what’s going on with me.

Ouch. Chai is taken aback, unable to hide the hurt on her face. Isadora realises what she said and exhales, trying to take a step back from her emotions.

Chai: I wasn’t trying to --

Isadora: I know, I’m sorry. Like I said, I’m really tired. I’ll be better once I sleep.

Chai nods, unsure, but figures it’s best to just leave it. She bids Isadora a quiet goodnight and leans forward to place a gentle kiss on her cheek, but Isadora doesn’t notice this and turns to open the door. Familiar feelings of being invisible and ignored cause Chai’s eyes to gloss over as she walks away.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - NIGEL’S ROOM - NIGHT

Nigel is getting his stuff ready for tomorrow, Nate and Jeff debating something from the bathroom nook. Jeff quickly asks Nigel if he needs to use the bathroom before he takes a shower, which he claims he’s all good, and Nate declares he’s going to go adventure around the halls until the last possible minute before lights out.

Jeff: I’m sure Eric and Harper will love that.

Nate: It’s only like six in the evening in my New York brain! What do they expect me to do, go to sleep? We’ve got hours before I hit that wall.

Oh, Nate, is the jetlag gonna come for you… but no stopping him for now. Jeff ducks into the bathroom and Nate disappears into the hall, leaving Nigel alone in the room. He settles onto his bed, absorbing the uncharacteristic quiet for a moment… then he gets an idea.

He leans over and pulls the hotel phone towards him, picking up the receiver and looking for how to find the right number...

INT. LONDON HOTEL - TECHIE ROOM - NIGHT

For as much as she planned to take a break from them this trip, Jade remains stuck with a majority of techie boys as her bunkmates. Dave and Yogi have claimed one bed while she’s planning to share the other with Asher, though at the moment she’s searching for a semblance of peace and quiet by brushing her teeth in the bathroom nook.

Dave pokes his head around the doorway, quietly asking if she’s okay. Jade spits out her toothpaste then raises her eyebrows.

Jade: Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?

Dave: Well, you said you wanted to spend less time with us this trip.

Jade: I didn’t say it like that.

Dave: But here you are… stuck spending time with us. [ sincerely ] Sorry if we’re annoying you.

Jade sighs, tilting her head at him.

Jade: You could never annoy me, Dave Williams.

Dave smiles, somewhat reassured. Jade continues with a shrug, reminding him that it’s not like she hasn’t spent the last four years with ample time getting used to them. And it’s not that anything has changed about that -- she still loves them, they’re her boys, even if the ones like Nate and Dylan sometimes drive her crazy.

Jade: I just… I was hoping for something a little different this time. That’s all.

Dave clearly isn’t sure what that means, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask. The hotel phone rings, making all of them jump.

Yogi: Oh my God, those work? I thought they were just decorative.

Asher stops journaling, tentatively reaching to pick up the receiver when it’s clear no one else is going to. He says hello, listening thoughtfully, until his expression shifts to recognition. Then he cracks a small smile, glancing towards Jade hovering by the bathroom.

Asher: Yeah, sure. I’ll see if she’s available. [ holding out the receiver ] It’s for you.

Dave and Yogi exchange intrigued looks, the latter making a point of ooh-ing. Jade shoots him a look but comes to take the phone from Asher, who gives her some space and takes his journal over to the desk.

Jade, uncertainly: Hello?

INT. LONDON HOTEL - NIGEL’S ROOM - NIGHT

Nigel exhales a sigh of relief, settling back against the headboard. He returns her greeting shyly.

Nigel: I’m glad this actually worked, I wasn’t sure it would. I sort of thought these phones were mainly decorative.

The conversation cuts back and forth between the two of them, both of them speaking more softly than they probably need to under the guise of pretending they have privacy. Nigel explains he just wanted to say goodnight, which Jade smiles at. She apologizes for the fact that today didn’t really go as planned, but Nigel shrugs. Always tomorrow.

Jade: Yeah. Yeah, definitely.

Nigel: So I’ll see you tomorrow. For real this time.

Jade: [ with a laugh ] Okay. Can’t wait.

Neither of them want to say goodbye, but they must. To delay it just a minute more, though, Nigel tells Jade to make sure to check outside her door before she goes to sleep. She frowns, confused, but he refuses to elaborate. He simply insists she do her due diligence, then with one more goodnight, hangs up.

Jade gets up and heads to the door, hesitant and feeling silly… but it’s Nigel, and she trusts him. He wouldn’t tell her to do something without a good reason. Glancing over her shoulders to make sure her roommates are preoccupied, she gently pulls open the door.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - CORRIDOR - NIGHT

At first, Jade doesn’t find anything to see… until her gaze drifts downward. She lowers herself to a crouch, picking up the small gift left just outside her door.

One of the roses from the street vendor, the ones she said were beautiful, with a delicate ribbon tied around the stem. Jade laughs quietly in disbelief, then turns her focus to the small note folded underneath it with her name on it. It’s a brief message, scrawled in Nigel’s handwriting, on a piece of hotel notepad paper:

For aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth.

A Shakespeare quote. Of course. How perfectly, quintessentially Nigel -- and the perfect antidote to their befuddled plans. Jade smiles, twirling the rose in her fingers and then smelling it.

Maya, pre-lap: I mean, it’s insulting, really. The complete disregard for my plans.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - DIVA ROOM - NIGHT

Maya is in the careful process of brushing her famous golden locks before bed, pacing the hotel room as she does. She’s ranting about the situation with the London Eye, remarking that with their little split she got separated from all the cool people and had to be stuck with Chai and like half of the techie gremlins -- including Asher of all people.

Maya: I really should file a complaint -- though I don’t know if it would be more effective to report Eric, or the tour company. I was very clear in my directions.

Zay: Yeah, yeah, it’s a travesty. While you’re at it, can you Karen the hotel and get them to improve their wi-fi? This service is shit.

At least, not good enough for him to compulsively check his application portal. Maya softens a bit, confirming that he still hasn’t heard from Turner. Zay tosses his phone onto the end of the bed, claiming that at this point he’d rather get a loud rejection than continue to be in suspense.

Farkle emerges from the bathroom, walking right into a trap for Maya’s ire. She comments on Zay’s predicament by pointing out that some people have confirmed opportunities right in front of them, and yet don’t appreciate it. Farkle rolls his eyes.

Zay: What, USC? Big whoop. You know Farkle was going to get in anywhere he applied considering his dad has a wealth reputation the size of Bezos.

Farkle: Um, well, I think we could give a little credit to my grades and applications.

Zay: Eh.

But no, that’s not what Maya was talking about. She loftily mentions the existence of the business card, getting the immediate attention of both boys. Zay sits upright.

Zay: Wait, what?

Farkle: Maya!

Maya: … oh, was I not supposed to mention it? [ flatly ] Oops…

Zay eyes Farkle, expecting further information. Reluctantly, Farkle gives him the short version -- that when they were in Los Angeles, he crossed paths with a talent agent who liked what he saw. So now he’s got this business card for if he’s ever back in the area. Zay blinks, shaking his head.

Zay: I’m sorry, let me see if I got this right. When we went to Los Angeles for Valerie De La Cruz’s funeral, you somehow managed to stumble into a situation to show a talent agent what you have to offer, and they liked it? Enough to give you their card?

Farkle: It was actually an audition. They wanted me to take the part, but I wanted to come back and finish senior year, so --

Zay scoffs, even more disbelieving. Maya holds out a hand, emphasizing her unspoken point. Farkle scrambles to explain himself, to validate his reasons for putting everything on hold and still not being sure he’s going to pursue it, but after a few moments Zay waves him down. He shuts down the conversation, claiming he can’t process this information right now.

Zay: Unbelievable. I can’t with this. I’m going to bed, and I’m going to sleep off this reveal and pretend I never learned it. Goodnight.

Farkle: Zay, it’s not like --

Maya: That’s all? I need you to give him one of your tough love bitch smackdowns --

Zay: I’M GOING TO SLEEP. GOODNIGHT.

Zay hits the light switch by his bed and sends the room into half-darkness, flopping onto his side and turning away from them. Maya and Farkle eye each other, the latter scowling at her. She smiles innocently.

Farkle marches over and hits the other light switch, throwing us into darkness --

INT. COACH - MOVING - DAY

But the sunlight is bright as the A class embarks on their second day, en route to the famous Westminster Abbey. It should be an exciting prospect, and it would be -- if the A class wasn’t thoroughly jetlagged and half-asleep on the bus. Dylan is asleep, leaning against a drowsy Asher.

Simon does his best to rouse them, trying to energise the bus with some riveting Westminster trivia. But it falls flat, especially on such a dead crowd. Their bus driver for the trip, a portly and blunt woman named FREYA, tells him to give it up. They’re second-day Americans, they’re gonna be pretty useless for much of the day.

Eric offers some optimism, though, patting Simon on the shoulder and assuring him they’ll put together. They’ll perk up soon… hopefully… Dave yawns loudly, not accenting Eric’s point well.

INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - DAY

Back in Manhattan, Eleanor has plenty of energy to spare. She’s in full-on planner mode as she pieces together final details for Charlie’s graduation reception, binders and notes spread out on the kitchen table and phone cradled between her shoulder and ear as she confirms some last-minute details.

Rosie and Daisy watch from the kitchen counter, since she’s taken over the dining table, having their breakfast. It’s quite the intimidating spectacle, watching their mom helicopter parent.

Daisy: Intense. Imagine what it’ll be like if he gets married.

Rosie: Think I might drop out to avoid this -- though I doubt she’d put in this much effort for me.

Daisy: I’d do that, but unfortunately, I need secondary education to get into a good college for environmental science. So.

Well, Daisy sure dropped that life plan nonchalantly. Seems she’s got it all figured out -- if only she would share some of that with Charlie! Rosie starts to ask follow up questions, but Daisy is done eating, walking away without comment.

Eleanor glances up from her things while she’s on hold with the caterers, asking Rosie if she’s heard from Charlie at all today. She feels like she hasn’t seen him since yesterday. He’s supposed to be picking up his suit, but if he doesn’t let her know, how is she supposed to know for sure… Rosie shrugs, claiming she doesn’t know. Then she pulls out her phone, crafting a quick text.

INT. THE GAP - DAY

Charlie is picking up his suit jacket as instructed, but there’s a reason he’s not keeping Eleanor updated. He glances at the text from Rosie, warning him that Mom is running just under nuclear and wondering where he is. How much longer is he going to be out?

Before he can type a response, that reason for secrecy returns to his side -- BRIDGETTE GARDNER, running the errand with him. She hands over the suit jacket put on hold for him, complete with a tie selection and suggested slack colors to match. Charlie informs her that they need to work fast because Mom is in blitz mode. Bridgette isn’t surprised, gesturing for him to try on the jacket then.

He does, pulling his arms through the sleeves. Once he’s straightened out the sleeves and adjusted the buttons, they both get a look at him in the standing mirror. It doesn’t look bad at all -- pretty classic and inoffensive in plain navy. The tie pulled to go with it is just a shade off from black, making the whole ensemble very unremarkable.

Bridgette: Looks nice. Just exactly like Mommy laid it out for you the night before.

She playfully pats his cheek, earning a scowl from him. She comments that she’s surprised Eleanor hasn’t made him cut his hair for the occasion, as it’s getting pretty long again.

Charlie: … she might have suggested it once or twice. I changed the subject.

Bridgette scoffs. Of course. But at least Charlie is resisting her influence. Bridgette thinks he could afford to do it more, given that this ensemble for the reception is so insanely boring he might as well be going to a funeral.

Bridgette: Hear me out. What about… glitter? Just a little on the lapels. Oh, or maybe like some leather -- walk into church in some actually well-fitting pants and I promise you about half the congregation will drop dead.

Charlie: Gee, thanks, but I’m not trying to commit mass murder. You may as well have me wear a bedazzled rainbow suit and tattoo a pride flag on my face.

Bridgette: Would be an improvement from what you’ve got now.

Be that as it may, Charlie just wants this reception to go smoothly. If that means wearing what mom thinks looks best, then whatever. Not like it matters.

Bridgette: See, I used to think like that, and then I discovered lace bralette tops. Never going back. [ a beat ] I’m just saying, it’s your party. I think you should be able to express a little bit of yourself while you’re there. At least consider a different tie?

Charlie: … fine. You get three chances to change my mind.

Bridgette accepts the challenge, settling into digging through the displays of neckties to find the strongest contenders. Charlie changes the subject, reflecting on the fact that Bridgette doesn’t even get to be at the reception to see him wear it if he does decide to shake it up. She states that the knowledge of her assistance will be enough, but he doesn’t agree.

Charlie: It’s not fair. I mean, you didn’t get to go to the ceremony, you don’t get to come to this…

Bridgette: Yes, such are the trials and tribulations of being the exile. Missing out on all the thrilling social engagements of blessed high society.

Charlie: I’m serious. Don’t you want to be there?

Bridgette pauses, taking in his sincere indignation. While confronting their mom isn’t exactly high on her agenda, it’s clear from the expression on his face that he wants her there. She shrugs, focusing on the ties.

Bridgette: I already accepted the fact that I was gonna miss out on this stuff. You know? I got over that when I got over everything else. You have to -- if you get stuck on shit like that, it just… makes it harder. And at that point, you can’t handle harder.

Bottom line, he shouldn’t get all worked up on her behalf. He can have his perfect, polished graduation reception without her, and then they’ll do something to celebrate on their own. She finishes pulling a third selection and double checks that she’s satisfied with her picks, then hands them to Charlie and swaps for his boring Eleanor-approved tie.

Bridgette: I’m taking this back to the personal shopper. He can put it back on the rack -- that or burn it, which will be my humble suggestion. You’re wearing one of those.

Charlie: Oh, so it’s bad when mom tells me what to wear, but when you do it, it’s fine.

Bridgette: Yes. Obviously. Just think of it as representation on my behalf, as the poor little exile.

The comment is said in jest, but it’s clear Charlie genuinely isn’t satisfied with how she’s being left out from all his celebrations. She may have made peace with it, but he’s struggling to do the same. He glances down at the neckties, sifting through the colorful and patterned selections.

EXT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - CLOISTERS - DAY

With its high ceilings, ancient decor and dark lighting, Westminster Abbey very much gives Hogwarts vibes. Simon is in the midst of leading a walking tour around it, holding up a small but bright yellow flag to ensure the group doesn’t get lost. The class is still a little groggy, since Simon’s monotone voice doesn’t inspire much excitement. 

Simon: One of the many monarchs buried here at Westminster is the queen known as “Bloody Mary,” also known as Mary Tudor. She was the last Catholic monarch --

Dave: I wonder if Charlie knows her. 

Simon: And was responsible for 280 people being burned at the stake due to their protestantism. The myth of Bloody Mary is often combined with that of Mary, Queen of Scots, who’s also buried here. She was Queen of Scotland, and claimed that the English throne belonged to her, not her cousin Elizabeth I. Because of this, Elizabeth had her cousin beheaded. 

Nate: Sick. 

Simon: Rumour has it Bloody Mary haunts various sites across the UK, and that if you say her name three times in a row, she’ll make an appearance.

The techie boys all share excited looks while Darby and Haley both look outright disturbed. Simon continues on, unaware of the reactions behind him.

Eric steps through the crowd with his phone to his ear, nodding, then lowers it against his chest as he approaches Riley. He pulls her aside from where she’s listening with Dylan and Asher, speaking to her quietly so as to not interrupt. As the one with the unlimited international plan for this trip, he’s the point person for any important communication.

Eric: Hey, your dad’s on the phone.

Riley: What? Is everything okay?

Eric: Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. He just… your Tisch letter came in the mail. He wants to know if he should open it or not.

Oh. Riley processes that, glancing towards Dylan and Asher. They nod her along, and she nods to Eric, taking the phone from him and stepping a bit away to talk to Cory. She gives him permission to open the letter, waiting on the other end of the line impatiently. She twists a thread on the end of her lavender silk blouse, the seconds ticking by impossibly slow…

Then the results are in. Riley absorbs what her dad tells her, blinking.

Riley: Waitlisted. [ a long beat ] Um, are you sure? What does it --

She’s cut off as Cory presumably reads from the letter, confirming the intel. She’s been waitlisted for Tisch.

For as unbothered as she acted about the whole thing, the news is still a bit overwhelming. She clears her throat, assuring Cory that she’s fine and really needs to catch up with the group. Once they say goodbye, she makes her way back over to Dylan and Asher, managing a smile. But they can tell she’s not herself, cautiously asking what the verdict is.

Riley: Um, waitlisted.

Dylan: No way.

Asher: Oh, well… look, that’s not bad. It could still turn around.

Riley: Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.

Asher: It’s not so much a rejection as it is, like… you know, just waiting to see if --

Riley: The better people say yes first.

Well, when you put it like that… Asher bites his tongue, deciding not to add anything since he’s clearly not helping. Dylan asks if she wants to take a minute, or if she wants them to wait with her, but she waves them off. She’ll be fine.

Riley: Think I just want to be alone for a second. If that’s okay.

Dylan and Asher nod, offering condolences one more time but also assuring her that Tisch doesn’t know what they’re holding out on. It’s their loss. She smiles, appreciative, but it’s faint.

Then she’s alone, left to absorb these new developments. She could hold out on the unlikely, pretending like she’s on the same level as Maya, Nigel, or any other of her incredibly talented friends… or she can let it go, start thinking more practically, and be able to start planning her future.

There’s just that lingering worry, the one creating the lump in her throat, that if she makes the wrong choice, she’s going to regret it forever.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Chasing Pavements” as performed by Adele || Performed by Riley Matthews

Rather than focusing on unrequited romance, Riley’s soulful rendition of the early Adele hit is concerned around her future. For as composed as she’s been able to appear about the whole thing while her friends spiral, the pressure of such major decisions has been weighing on her too -- and with a result like “waitlist,” she’s simultaneously let down yet still trapped in uncertainty. She was hoping for this admission decision to make the tough choices for her, to show her how she feels and what she wants from her future.

Does she want to risk it all and pursue a lofty goal like performing when it’s never been her core motivation, when it’s not her whole entire world like her friends -- but she might be just good enough to make something out of it? Is it worth chasing that elusive maybe, when that maybe might never materialize, waitlisting her forever… and when she could conceivably imagine herself doing something else, even if she doesn’t know what that something else is yet?

And maybe it hurts so much because it speaks to an even greater problem, which is that Riley herself feels stuck on an eternal waitlist. The blow just reiterates what she’s always known: that she’s second best, second choice, the belle of the ball only when all the other debutantes have passed. Maybe a single college acceptance shouldn’t feel that way, but it does, and the ache of it is loud and clear as Riley meanders her way through the corridors of Westminster Abbey and belts it out. It’s a rather poignantly beautiful performance with the historic, grand abbey as her stage.

As the song comes to an end, Riley slips down and settles onto one of the stone benches, tilting her head back against the glass window behind her. The empty feeling expands as we ease away, her solitude emphasized by how vast the corridors seem around her.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Riley isn’t the only one feeling stranded in regards to their dreams. Lucas is in a low mood, spending his time moping behind the counter at Chubbies when he should be on his way to Albany for his interview. It would be easier to be angry, but the only person he can get mad at is himself, so muted frustration and disappointment will do.

He lifts his gaze from the register when Charlie walks through the door, one of the only customers who’s trailed in so far that morning. He makes a point of noting the emptiness himself as he approaches the counter.

Charlie: Quiet in here, huh? Guess when Adams heads out there’s really no one left to patronize this place.

Lucas: Would you judge me if I said I liked it?

Charlie laughs. He claims he wouldn’t judge, given that he’s out also looking for a little quiet and change of pace. He mentions his family and all of the hubbub around his reception, which it’s clearly nice to step away from for a bit.

Lucas: Oh, right. You graduated this week, right?

Charlie: Yeah. Basically the same day everybody else left.

Lucas: Great timing. But uh, congratulations, or whatever.

Not the most eloquent good tidings, but Charlie will take it. The conversation drifts to more general post-graduate discussion, ultimately prompting Lucas to admit when asked about his college prospects that he was accepted into UC Davis. In fact, he was even offered a potential scholarship. Charlie brightens, knowing from Riley how big a deal it is.

Charlie: Seriously? That’s amazing! Congratulations. You must be excited.

Lucas: You’d think I would be. Only it’s not happening. I can’t get the scholarship, so I can’t go.

Charlie: What? Why not?

Lucas isn’t one to just dump his personal baggage out for anyone to see, but there’s something so inexplicably disarming about Charlie that he finds himself saying it anyway. That, and all that frustration he’s been stifling all morning is desperate to slip out.

Lucas: Because for whatever reason the stupid thing is upstate in Albany, rather than like, a centralized logical location like downtown.

Charlie: They probably had more than one session for out-of-state applicants. At least it’s in New York.

Lucas: I guess. It’s my fault, anyway, because I could’ve planned accordingly, but I’m a fucking idiot who waited until the last second to ask for a ride, and my only resource can’t help. And I tried looking up ride shares but it’ll take like a million dollars to get there and back, which defeats the purpose anyway since I’m going to this interview to lick some boots for a scholarship because I don’t have any money.

Lucas concludes his mini-rant by pointedly shutting the cash register drawer, which dings in protest. Charlie processes his complaints, trying to keep up.

Charlie: Where’d you say it was again?

Lucas: Albany. [ irritably ] It’s only like a couple hours away, which honestly makes it worse, because it’s that damningly close and yet I still can’t get to it --

Charlie: Dude, I can drive you.

Oh. Wasn’t expecting that. Lucas pauses his irritable fidgeting, staring at him for a long moment before realizing he’s genuinely offering.

Lucas: … are you serious?

Charlie: Yeah! Like you said, Albany’s not even that far. I like a drive, and I don’t think you should have to miss out on the chance to see this through just because you don’t have the means to get there. Besides, I owe you one for helping me with Brandon.

Lucas: No, no. No, we’re already even. I evened it. Because that was for you doing the transfer thing --

Charlie: [ with humor ] Look, we could do this all day. Or, we can get going so you can make it to your interview on time -- though you’ll probably want to change first.

Perhaps. Lucas glances down at his Chubbies uniform.

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICES - MORRIS’S OFFICE - DAY

Meanwhile, Jack is at his prior engagement, sitting down for coffee with GEORGE MORRIS (60s). He’s a member of the old guard for sure, conventional and establishment, but unlike Jefferson and Yancy he tends to formulate his opinions on each issue independently and votes accordingly. He’s not easily influenced... which makes his impending retirement of particular interest. Whoever rises to occupy his vacant spot may just tip the scales of the school board towards a progressive or conservative lean.

It’s a fact that is clearly on Jack’s mind as they chat, starting on the subject of Jack’s forced probation and reapplication for the leadership role at Adams. Morris voted during the Bradford debacle for Lucas to be able to stay at Adams -- he found the whole situation quite ridiculous and time-wasting, to be frank, more spectacle than anything worthwhile -- but he admits that he also voted for Jack to be put up for reapplication.

Morris: My thinking was that if you were still best suited for the position, then your reapplication should be swift and effortless. You have a strong track record despite Yancy’s observations, which are biased, and it wouldn’t take much to win the job back. Sure, it’s another symbolic, time-wasting gesture, but it would settle the matter.

That being said, he did note that Jack has yet to actually submit said reapplication… which provides a perfect segue into why he knows Jack is really here.

Morris: You don’t have to beat around the bush, Jackson. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors that I’ll be taking my leave at the end of this contract year.

Jack: That might be true, yes.

Morris: Evelyn mentioned you very well may eye my spot. In fact, she seemed to suspect such a thing before you even caught wind of the possibility. She’s keen, Evelyn, insightful. Knows her colleagues much better than most, sees potential that others don’t. That’s why she makes an excellent board member.

Jack admits it’s not out of the realm of possibility in his mind… in the time that he’s been an administrator, he’s learned a lot, but one thing that always frustrates him is when he loses the ability to tackle bigger issues once they elevate beyond his pay grade. There are bigger, more systemic issues affecting the students of Manhattan that he wishes would get more attention, that he could dedicate more concerted effort towards without sacrificing his attention to Adams or risking overstepping his bounds. And certainly becoming a school board member wouldn’t magically fix any of those problems, but it’s a new angle on it. A new starting point, a place where he can create initiatives and try to organize funding towards the things he believes matter above all else.

That’s true, and Morris commends his passion. The board can be a painfully bureaucratic institution, and it could benefit from some fresh spirit. But he has to advise him to seriously consider the process it would entail as well. The school board is an elected position. Jack would have to campaign, build a following, and garner enough support to win the spot. And like most elected positions, he wouldn’t be able to hold onto his current position in the meantime -- if Jack decides to throw his hat in the ring and run for the board, he will have to forfeit his role at Adams to do it. And if he doesn’t make the cut, he’ll be starting over.

Still, that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t consider it. It’s just important to examine all the angles before he makes a move as big as this -- and it’s evident that Jack seriously is.

INT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - HENRY VII CHAPEL - DAY

At the same time, the A class has begun their free roam at the abbey, allowing them to break off into smaller groups. There’s a lot to explore, so they’ve got a decent chunk of time to do so.

Jade and Nigel have wandered off on their own and arrived at the chapel, Clarissa and Haley the only other two A class folks in the same chamber. Jade approaches the steps in awe, complimenting the architecture and talking about how she remembers watching Kate and William get married live on TV.

Jade: Wasn’t my idea though, for the record. My brother was weirdly obsessed with the royals for a time -- he’s one of those Americans that had a union jack hanging up in his room in middle school.

Nigel: Sure.

Jade: I was much more interested in the fashion. I remember being so amazed by Kate’s dress… I mean, the attention to detail on the lace sleeves, and the train…

Nigel’s turn to be fond of Jade nerding out. The two of them settle at the base of the altar, basically mirroring where the royals stood at said wedding with the beauty of the church towering behind them. He claims she’s already designed and created pieces equally as stunning, if not more impressive. Who knows? Maybe she’ll be designing for the royals one day.

Jade: Wouldn’t my brother love that... but I don’t know. To get that kind of gig I would have to actually have credentials first, which is not going to happen if I don’t get a really good apprenticeship.

Nigel: Still nothing from any of them?

Jade: No. And it’s not like that’s a bad thing, yet, most of them don’t start reaching out until like… mid-summer. But with everyone else figuring stuff out and starting to nail down all their plans, kind of just makes me feel… adrift.

There are certainly others who relate at the moment. Nigel steps closer and takes her hands, waiting for her to look at him.

Nigel: It’s all gonna shape out. Even if you don’t take the traditional path, I really don’t see how you couldn’t find your footing in the industry when your portfolio is literally spectacular. And if worse comes to worse, you’ll make your own way. You can like market your designs on social media and stuff -- Yindra’s good at the branding thing, she could probably help. Dylan, too, though I’m not exactly sure he has a method to his madness.

Jade: Well, he’s doing something right, with what, sixty-thousand followers and counting? Still can’t believe it.

Nigel: My point is, you’ll get there one way or another. And I’ll help, even if I have to go door-to-door at NYU singing your praises. I’m well-versed in the art of the monologue, you’d be impressed how much information I can eloquently cram into thirty seconds of time before they inevitably slam the door in my face.

Jade laughs, thanking him for his unabashed support -- and risking social pariah syndrome to do it. He nods, proud, and the moment grows soft between them. Nothing but fond smiles and the gentle beauty of the cathedral around them… they drift closer together, to share a regally romantic kiss of their own…

Only they’re startled out of the moment by Nate, who marches into the room and loudly comments on how great the acoustics are. The rest of the techie boys follow, officially disrupting the peaceful nature from moments earlier.

Nate: I swear, it’s like an amplifier in here. Echo game for days. [ quietly ] Nate’s the best. [ louder, playing with the echoes ] NATE’S THE BEST!

Yogi and Jeff shush him, but it’s not very effective when they’re laughing. Jade groans under her breath, lightly crossing her eyes in irritation before descending down from the altar. Nigel hesitates, then goes after her, the laughter of their peers echoing around the stone architecture.

EXT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - DAY

Zay is fielding some annoyance of his own, meandering along with Farkle along the exterior grounds of the abbey. They’re near the perimeter of the burial grounds, Farkle rattling off an insane amount of trivia to fill the silence as Zay does his best to ignore him. How he got stuck with him, he doesn’t know, but Farkle seems more than content to trail behind him and bother him with facts he didn’t need to know.

Farkle: Did you know there are over three-thousand people buried at the abbey?

Zay: Why the hell would I know that?

Farkle: Well, I do.

As if that’s the marker for common knowledge. Zay shakes his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets, but Farkle isn’t thrown by his silence. He continues on unperturbed.

Farkle: That statistic includes many royals and all the Tudors -- save for Henry the VIII, that is, who opted to be buried with his favorite wife, Jane Seymour. Though there’s debate about that, too, considering many Tudor enthusiasts actually believe his true love was Catherine of Aragon, but Jane was the one who gave him a male heir. Which she then died for -- childbirth complications -- so guess maybe he felt a little sorry for her.

Zay: [ under his breath ] Think if he had a favorite wife it would be his only wife…

Farkle: Well, sure, maybe by our present-day standards. But monogamy and marriage for love rather than strategy and lineage is really much more modern a practice than most people realize. Anyway, definitely wouldn’t have been Henry the VIII’s game, since he literally created a new branch of Christianity so he could divorce his wife, which wasn’t allowed under Roman Catholicism. So he’s always been a bit of a I’m-Not-Like-Other-Monarchs guy.

They’re going to have to bury Zay at the abbey if Farkle keeps this up and bores him to death.

Farkle: But you think he’d be buried here, considering he’s the reason the church exists as an Anglican denomination like it does now. It used to be a monastery before he had England separate from the Catholic church. Charlie and I got into an argument about this once, actually, in Cory’s class -- well, I don’t know if I can say argument, since Charlie is really only capable of slightly lukewarm debate -- because he thought the date was before --

The relentless trivia is one thing, but a Charlie name-drop is just too much. Zay is trying to avoid thinking about all of the above. He stops walking, Farkle accidentally ramming into him.

Zay: No offense, Farkle, but I quite literally could not give less of a shit. I’m trying to enjoy the scenery, but I can’t even hear myself be unimpressed over your lecture.

Farkle: Some people find fun facts charming.

Zay: Well, you should go find those weirdos and flock with them then. Seriously, acres of ancient architecture for you to roam and somehow, you end up with me. Wouldn’t you rather be competing with Isadora for knowing how many stones make up the cathedral or some shit?

Farkle: Sorry! Maybe I would be, if things were normal. But at this point anything is better than having to trail around behind her and play third wheel with…

Oh, yeah. Right. Zay forgot about the little detail of Chai. He can empathise with that, wanting to avoid unpleasant circumstances that you have no power to change… he sighs.

Zay: Whatever. It’s fine. You can stay, but we’re going to walk quietly. Enjoy the posh, pretentious ambience. Quietly. Got it?

Farkle: Sure. Totally. I can do that.

Zay nods, beginning to saunter along again. Farkle does his best to follow the rule, biting his tongue as he dawdles behind him… but it doesn’t last long. It’s just not in his nature. It’s sweet of Zay to pretend it could be, but they both know that’s not reality.

Farkle: Bet you can’t guess what famous scientist is buried here.

Zay: Jesus Christ…

No, Zay, he wasn’t a scientist. Good try, though!

Charlie, pre-lap: And what unique eccentricities do you bring to the table that you think would make a meaningful addition to the UC community?

INT. CHARLIE’S CAR - DAY

Charlie and Lucas have made it to the interview venue with a few minutes to spare, so they’re maximizing their time. Charlie has his phone open to a list of typical scholarship interview questions and they’re essentially doing a mock interview. Lucas is now dressed in the nice button-down he wore to Topanga’s, looking much more put together than he did in his uniform.

And though they’re doing their usual thing of not making eye contact as they converse, it’s obvious that the practice is valuable to Lucas. He’s able to stumble through his thoughts, pausing and rethinking and starting over in the middle of a sentence, when he won’t be allowed such a luxury once he gets in there. Charlie listens attentively, tossing glances at him and nodding in approval if he says something particularly effective or well-spoken.

Once they’ve made it through the last question, Charlie compliments his efforts. It’s clear he has a lot to say once he finds the right words, and he can spin it all pretty well.

Charlie: These sort of things are more a formality anyway, honestly. They usually have their mind made up about who they want to give the scholarships to -- this is more about confirming that you’re not like, secretly deranged or a total recluse.

Lucas: Oh, really? Then I should skip it. Would hate to confirm their worst fears.

Charlie side-eyes him, smirking as he shakes his head.

Charlie: You’ll be fine. Deliver even a fraction of the confidence you usually have and you’ll win them over.

Lucas: [ with a snort ] Yeah, right. Sure.

That response surprises Charlie. He looks at him.

Charlie: I mean it.

Lucas: I don’t know what Kool-aid they had you drink at Haverford, but I think it fucked with your head. No one would call me the epitome of confidence.

Charlie: Oh, come on. That’s so not true. You’re like, one of the most unflappable people at Adams. Everyone thinks so.

Lucas: Did we go to the same school?

Charlie: I didn’t say it meant they liked you, but I bet if you asked anyone from our class they’d say you’ve got confidence. Maybe not the same brand as Maya, or Isadora, but you know who you are. You’re unapologetic about it. And you do your own thing, you’re not scared of anything. That gives you like… a quiet power. People notice that, it’s admirable. I wish I could be like that. I’m sure the interview panel will see it, too.

Charlie’s talent for saying the exact right thing in earnest strikes again, and at just the right moment. Lucas absorbs the sentiment. He’s so used to the narratives that are unflattering, all the ways he’s been villainized, it’s weird that in the midst of all that turbulence he may have had silent admirers for every disdainful naysayer.

Lucas quickly changes the subject, pointing out that Charlie was helpful at coaching him. He asks if he had to do a lot of interviews for his schools, which Charlie denies. He wasn’t up for scholarship in most cases considering his family is well-off, and he’s pretty sure his grades and community service did most of the selling for him. It’s all about the surface-level achievement anyway. No one is especially interested in getting to know him beyond the shiny stats, and he can’t blame them.

Lucas: Well, why do you want to go there?

Charlie: What?

Lucas: To Yale or whatever. I just mean like… you know, I’m only doing all this shit for Davis because it has something I really want. A way to get to something I think I want to do. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be worth the stress, and it definitely wouldn’t be worth the money. Why do you want to go there, beyond the… shiny stats?

Good question, Lucas. Very, very good question. One that Charlie can’t answer, even as he opens his mouth to do so. He feels invisible to their institutions, but maybe that’s equally as much about him as it is about them.

He’s spared for now. Lucas’s phone buzzes, warning him that he has ten minutes until his interview slot, so he better get going. Charlie wishes him luck as he climbs out of the car. Then it’s just him, stuck sitting with the huge hole in his future plans Lucas incidentally broke open.

INT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - NAVE - DAY

Various students wander around the nave of the church -- the main area with pews, memorials and icons hung on columns. Amidst the students are Isadora and Chai, who walk in silence, awkward tension surrounding them following their not-so-pleasant goodnight the day before.

While Isadora focuses on the intricately decorated screen that leads to the quire, Chai takes a selfie with Isaac Newton. Well, his statue, anyway. Chai asks Isadora to be in a picture with her, so Isadora lightly smiles and poses. Chai snaps the pic, then puts away her phone. Things seem to be a little more comfortable between them, so Chai broaches the topic of last night.

Chai: Listen, about what happened yesterday --

From this side of the nave, Isadora has a better view of the pews and finds whatever it was she was searching for. Unaware of the fact that Chai is mid-sentence, Isadora rushes towards a particular row of pews. Chai takes a moment to swallow down her annoyance, then follows.

Isadora slowly makes her way down the pew, analysing the space and holding out her hands as a way to measure how much room would be needed for each person to sit. Curious, Chai watches as Isadora settles on one spot. Tension lifts from Isadora’s face and she lets out a breath of relief before turning and sitting down. Chai shuffles in to sit next to her and looks in the same direction, wondering if this particular spot allows for a better view, but doesn’t notice anything. 

Chai: Why are we sitting here? 

Isadora: This is where my mom sat at Will and Kate’s wedding.

Chai is surprised, and allows herself to take in the fact that she’s sitting next to where Valerie De La Cruz once sat. It’s impressive, honestly, that Isadora remembers exactly where Val sat a whole decade after. Despite how much Isadora once claimed she didn’t care about her mother, this goes to show that she always cared -- a lot. 

Chai: Wow. Were you her plus one or something?

Isadora: [ with a shake of her head ] I watched it on TV with my foster family. Her plus one was some race car driver.

Unsure what to say next, Chai lets quiet settle between them. The opportunity to discuss the night before is gone, but Chai reassures herself that things are better today, like Isadora said. Maybe it was just jetlag…

She tentatively slides her hand towards Isadora’s and brushes it with her fingers, but Isadora once again flinches at the contact and pulls her hand away. She slides down the pew a little to create distance between her and Chai, which only rubs salt into the wound.

Knowing where she isn’t wanted, Chai wordlessly gets up and leaves. Her absence doesn’t even register with Isadora, who continues to sit in silence.

A different collection of Adams students also wander around the nave, Yindra leading the charge. She’s on a mission, approaching the front pews and claiming she wants to get the chance to pray while they’re there. Maya raises her eyebrows, amused.

Maya: Really? I didn’t take you for that kind of religious zealot.

Yindra: Your dismissive attitude notwithstanding, I see it as less zealous and more seizing an opportunity. I’m not going to pass up the chance to send out a prayer for my future in one of the most famous places of Christian worship there is. I’ll take any moment to put good energy into the universe and give a little thanks to God for what I’ve already got -- especially given the odyssey I’m about to embark on.

Well said, Yindra. Touché… Maya takes this challenge, pointedly sauntering off to a kneeler of her own. She settles down with uncertainty, clearly unfamiliar with how any of this religious stuff works. She’s a bit subconscious about it, glancing around her to make sure no one can see her being so visibly out of her element.

Maya: Where’s Charlie Gardner when you need him…

But Charlie isn’t there, the one time Maya has probably ever thought he would be useful to have around, so she’s on her own. She takes a deep breath, blowing air out through her lips almost as if she’s doing vocal warm ups.

Maya: Dear God -- oh, no, wait --

She clasps her hands together, mimicking prayer as she’s seen in the movies. There, better. She nods, satisfied, then tries again.

Maya: So, like… hey there. God. Or, whoever you are. If you’re there. Look, I don’t really do this thing, but Amino made her point, and I can’t let her one-up me. She’s already my strongest competition in the world of up and coming female superstars. No special advantages for her. [ pausing ] Anyway, I know I don’t have the wherewithal to be asking you for anything, since I’m not exactly a “worshipper.” And I wouldn’t expect it anyway -- I’ll be making my own way, cosmic interference or not, so it’s no biggie.

If God is up there listening, he has to be laughing. No one can say Maya Hart isn’t one of his most entertaining creatures… then she grows more serious, clearing her throat.

Maya: I actually thought, if it’s like, allowed, that I’d put in a request for someone else. And don’t worry, he’s one of your precious children who actually practices religion and all that, so you’ll be more willing to help him I’m sure. But um… you should send some guidance to my friend, Farkle. If you do that sort of thing. He’s got… an amazing opportunity in front of him, and all of the talent in the world to see it through -- in a surprisingly frail package. And I know he wants to follow it, that in his heart he wants to break away and see where this takes him, but… something’s holding him back. I don’t know why. I guess he’s scared, maybe. But I think this hesitation is going to keep him stuck, and he’s going to regret it.

Maya pauses, glancing up at the elegant opulence of the church in front of her. Though she’s not a believer and probably never will be, she can appreciate why someone would be. There’s something to it, the feeling of kneeling there in humility and sensing just how small you are. Small, and yet, still worth listening to in even the quietest prayers. She has to love the drama of it, in any case.

Maya: He needs to take the leap and see how far he can go. He can’t pass this up. Please don’t let him pass this up. [ a beat ] Oh, and like, amen. Thanks.

Maya bounces back to her feet, stepping away from the kneeler. As we hang on the stained glass windows shimmering with sunlight…

Interviewer, pre-lap: And why, in your opinion, should we take a chance on you? All things considered.

INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY

Lucas is seated opposite three representatives from UC Davis admissions, who we can only see from behind. We’re focused on Lucas instead, giving ample effort to put his best foot forward and make a strong impression. He’s not inauthentic -- no fake smiles or overt charm here -- but like Charlie said, he has a unique, quiet charisma. When he answers their question, speaking carefully and precisely to get every word right, there’s a soft intensity to it that is more compelling than any practiced grin could be.

Lucas: I want to study veterinary medicine, which has its roots in biology. And as far as I understand it, the core tenet to any living organism is growth. Being able to adapt, to evolve, become a better and more resilient version of what came before. And in many cases, organisms need support and the right environment to achieve that growth. The right nutrients, water, sunlight. There’s nothing in the randomness of the universe that says we have to support those things, to sustain life, but it happens anyway. [ a beat ] I know I’m not perfect. I’m not the ideal candidate on paper, and any look at my permanent record would warrant second thoughts. But I’m improving. I’m evolving. You can see it in my application -- it takes a lot of adaptation to go from expulsion at one school to being class president of another. It’s not easy, and it’s a lot of work, but… I’m putting in the effort to be better than I was before. You don’t have to take a chance on me, but… I believe with the proper environment -- Davis -- I can grow into something worth putting your support and money behind.

The interview panel considers this, one member nodding along while a couple others jot down notes. Lucas releases a breath, having endured the worst of it.

Behind his chair where his bookbag rests, his phone screen lights up with a silenced phone call. Eric’s contact name pops on the screen…

EXT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - DAY

But the call goes unanswered, leaving Riley waiting on the other end even more disappointed. She leaves a quick message when it goes to voicemail.

Riley: Hi, it’s Riley. I’m calling from Eric’s phone because he has the international plan -- I hope everything is going okay. I just, um… I got some news and I wanted to share it with you, so give me a call back when you get the chance. No rush or anything. And try me on my cell first, because we’ll probably be at the hotel and should be able to at least try wi-fi… but um, yeah. Okay. I miss you. Hopefully talk to you soon. Love you, bye.

She reluctantly hangs up, Eric approaching cautiously. She hands the phone back to him, thanking him for letting her use it. He does his best to reassure her that getting waitlisted is not the end of the world by any means. In fact, there is a silver lining to it in that Riley is clearly good enough to keep under consideration rather than outright rejection.

Riley: Just not good enough to accept.

Eric: Hey, a delayed acceptance is still an acceptance. The destination is the destination, regardless of how long it takes to get there. And you’ve got some information now that you didn’t before, which should help you in figuring out what to do next.

Fair enough. Riley tries to accept that positive spin, allowing the hug Eric gives her. Then he braces her shoulders and waits for her to meet his eyes.

Eric: You get to decide what happens next. That’s the most important thing. Don’t forget that.

Hear, hear. Riley nods, offering a light smile. The two of them head back towards the rest of the group, off to their next stop.

EXT. REGENT’S PARK - CUMBERLAND GREEN - DAY

It’s the evening, but the bright sky and chirping birds don’t show it. Regent’s Park is somewhat busy with tourists and family walking around, and people in business suits on their way home from work. The A class arrive, Simon leading the way with his yellow flag. Eric and Harper carry two large ice box coolers, with a few of the students helping out by carrying foldable chairs, picnic blankets and shopping bags with paper plates and cups.

Once they find a spot big enough for them to spread out, Eric tells everyone to get a picnic blanket and sit in groups, then he and Harper will go around with the food. 

Simon: If anybody wants to learn more about Regent’s Park, or the history of England in general, you can sit on my picnic blanket with me. I’ll be sharing lots of fun facts and answering any questions you have for the duration of tea. 

Dylan: Oh no, are we having tea? Shit, Ash, what should I do? You said I shouldn’t have tea anymore after that time at The Lego Movie… I’m gonna fail London.

Zay overhears this, plainly informing Dylan that tea is just another word for dinner. 

Yindra: I’m dying to hear what happened at The Lego Movie, though. Please do share.

The four of them, along with Riley, get a picnic blanket to sit as a group. Meanwhile, Maya holds court with Darby, Sarah, Haley and Clarissa -- Riley and Zayby aren’t enough motivation to eat with Dylan and Asher.

Maya calls Isadora and Farkle over, but neither seem keen to join the group of girls. Farkle sits down in between Asher and Riley instead, Asher awkwardly shuffling closer to Dylan to make room for his long legs. With a pout, Maya beckons Isadora again. Elsewhere, Chai spots Darby and Sarah and heads towards them, passing Isadora on the way. 

Chai: Want to sit with me? I was going to go with Darby and Sarah but if you’d rather sit just the two of us I’m sure we can find a spare blanket.

Isadora looks around, noticing that everybody else has found a place and that Harper and Eric have started to hand out food.

Isadora: I actually was planning on sitting with Simon, but you go ahead. 

Chai: I mean, I’m happy to sit with Simon, too. 

Isadora: Honestly, it’s fine. I know you’re not into all the history stuff.

Way to tell somebody you don’t want to sit with them without actually telling them. Isadora walks over to Simon’s picnic blanket, where Jade and Nigel are already sitting. Nigel and Simon are in the midst of a debate over the meaning behind one of Shakespeare’s works, a conversation that Isadora easily slips into.

Rather than upset, Chai looks angry as she watches Isadora sit down. She has half a mind to follow Isadora and force her to spend time with her, but she realises that that would do more harm than good. Instead, she sets her jaw and marches towards Sarah and Darby. 

Maya, somewhat smug: Trouble in paradise? I knew you two would crash and burn. 

Sarah: Tell me about it.

Not exactly supportive, but Chai doesn’t care. It’s fuel to the fire that’s burning brighter with every new interaction with Isadora.

The mood isn’t too much better over in Riley’s group. Mainly that news about her waitlisting has spread, and they’re all fired up on her behalf. She tries to assure them that it’s no big deal, people get waitlisted all the time, but all of them are in agreement that if anyone deserves not to be, it’s her. Zay is especially adamant, though he might be projecting some of his own admissions frustration and impatience onto her.

It’s Dylan that finds the knack for truly cheering her though, adding a little melodrama to the rallying around Riley that makes it feel more fun and less heavy. He grows increasingly impassioned about all of the ways that Riley has changed environments for the better -- look at AAA for crying out loud! -- and Tisch simply won’t know what they’re missing. Fools, the lot of them. It’s so obvious, really, that Riley is a cut above the rest.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Jolly Holiday” as performed by Mary Poppins Original London Cast Recording || Performed by Dylan Orlando (feat. Riley Matthews, Asher Garcia, Zay Babineaux, and Ensemble) (starting at 00:15)

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

Perhaps the biggest number of the episode, so following along with the lyrics can be very helpful for this spectacle. In fact, I don’t even think I can do the performance justice trying to write it out, so I highly encourage a listen to the track and I will try my best! Dylan wastes no time in launching into the number, replacing every “Mary” fittingly with “Riley” as he showers her in compliments -- a trend that will continue throughout.

Dylan: Why, it’s a jolly holiday with Riley. Riley makes your heart so light.

Riley: Oh, really…

Dylan: When the day is grey and ordinary, Riley makes the sun shine bright!

Riley: You do talk nonsense, Dyl!

Dylan: Oh happiness is blooming all around her. The daffodils are smiling at the dove!

Riley: I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about --

Dylan leans even further into the melodrama, falling onto his back and stretching across Asher’s lap as he really milks it. Suffice to say, he matches Bert’s cheeky charm near perfectly.

Dylan: When Riley holds your hand --

Asher: Dyl!

Dylan: You feel so grand. Your heart starts beating like [ pounding his heart to the beat ] a big brass band!

Asher: [ patting his side ] You’ve got enough brass for all of us…

Then Dylan pushes himself back upright and to his feet, concluding the opening verse by approaching Riley and offering her his hands. She takes them and lets him pull her to her feet, kicking off a visual journey in song through the idyllic park.

But first we take a detour to the plastics, complaining about their stop at the park. Boring! It’s just statues, ducks, and grannies! From there, once they’re done complaining about how it has nothing to offer them, we jump straight into the next set of sung lyrics (01:55), where Dylan takes over again.

EXT. REGENT’S PARK - SPORTS GREENS - DAY

He and Asher are guiding Riley along on their walk, playfully flirting with her and bolstering her confidence as they go. They weave their way through football players and pull them into the singing -- the whole performance definitely has some “That’s How You Know” energy from Enchanted. It’s also a good time to mention what Dylan and Asher are wearing this afternoon, which are purposefully but subtly meant to emulate this famous fashion moment.

Then Dylan takes a detour, leaning fully into the Bert silliness by delivering statue pun after statue pun (to the techie boys’ great delight, especially Dave). At one point, he yoinks a straw boater hat off an OLD MAN and continues on his merry way, which the old man complains about in a… bizarrely strong Cockney accent. His adult SON tells him to relax, though, and just enjoy the performance -- how can you disdain a fella with such spirit like that? As they have their brief comedic interaction, there’s definitely the sensation that the men look oddly familiar (for film and West End fans alike).

EXT. REGENT’S PARK - BOATING LAKE - DAY

Zay takes over from there for a verse or two, arm linked with Riley as the two of them traipse along the path around the boating lake. The ensemble out on the boats sings along, only increasing their share of infectious performing energy. These American students have a contagion of joyful singing, and it’s incurable!

A few paces behind them, Asher takes the Mary verse, turning some of the appreciation towards Dylan. Because of course, Dylan was the one who managed to rally Riley out of her low mood -- and get the whole Park singing along. It’s a cute little exchange between the two of them, cementing their Mary and Bert energies, and building us right along towards the big finish…

EXT. REGENT’S PARK - QUEEN MARY’S GARDENS - DAY

Dylan links his arm with Asher’s and then they’re leading the brigade, the A class and all the parkgoers they’ve collected along the way arriving at the beautiful and scenic Queen’s Gardens for the big finish. They proceed amidst the flowers with a flourish, many of them paired up as they dance their way along together -- Zay and Riley, Jade and Nigel, Isadora and Farkle. By the time they make it to the center of the rose gardens, they’re spread out all across the greens, energetically performing the choreography together and spirits most definitely lifted.

Dylan and Dave heft Riley up onto their shoulders at the centre of the crowd, causing her to laugh, as everyone brings it home.

No wonder it’s Riley that we love!

INT. CHARLIE’S CAR - DAY

The sun is just starting to set as Charlie pulls up at Lucas’s requested drop off, the Orlando community center just across the street. Charlie squints at it, confused.

Charlie: Isn’t this Dylan’s place?

Lucas: Yeah. I crash here sometimes. And Randall’s making calzones tonight. Hard to pass up.

Charlie: Oh. Cool.

Lucas: And they’ve got a dog, so.

He lets that be the end of the sentence, like it explains everything. And to Charlie, whose most consistent best friend is Skippy, it basically does. Lucas gathers his stuff and unbuckles his seatbelt.

Lucas: Your reception thing is tomorrow, right? At your church.

Charlie: Yeah. Lots of extended relatives, old people... none of my friends since they’re all out of town. Should be a hoot.

Lucas: Well, good luck with that.

He starts to climb out of the car, then hesitates, managing to do the vulnerable but decent thing.

Lucas: Thanks for the ride.

Charlie smiles, nodding. Lucas opens the door and climbs out, starting to cross the street to the community center. Then he remembers something else, doubling back and stopping in the middle of the street.

Lucas: Hey, Charlie.

Charlie is surprised he’s still being addressed, but more concerned with how Lucas is standing in the road just waiting to get hit by a car. But it’s Lucas, after all -- no fear. Charlie rolls his window down.

Charlie: Yeah?

Lucas: You could do it, too, you know. Your own thing. [ a beat ] I mean it.

Well. That’s an unexpectedly sincere sentiment. And impactful coming from Lucas, who Charlie apparently thinks of as the master of unapologetic authenticity. A return gesture, maybe, for the favor of driving him all that way.

That’s all he’s going to get at the moment, though, because that’s about as much vulnerability as Lucas can stomach in one day before he starts going into organ failure. He doesn’t give Charlie the chance to respond, jogging the rest of the way across the street to the community center and disappearing inside.

But it’s enough. It clearly lands with Charlie, leaving a mark… and making him think. After a moment, he pulls out his phone, dialing a number.

Charlie: Hey. We need to talk.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - TECHIE ROOM - NIGHT

Westminster was a bad idea for the boys, as now they’re obsessed with the Bloody Mary myth. Nate and Jeff have come over to join Dave and Yogi and they’re all crowded around the bathroom mirror, actively working to summon the vengeful spirit.

Nate: No, no, shut up. Shut up. Everyone has to commit to this. She’s not gonna come if we half-ass it.

Jeff: She’s not gonna come period.

Nate: That’s exactly what I fucking mean, Jeff. If you’re not committed to the cause, you can show yourself out.

For the record, Jade wishes she could do the same. She’s trying to focus on a book, but the boys are so loud, and there’s nowhere for her to escape to for a break. It’s a relief when there’s a knock at the door, and she’s even more grateful when it’s Nigel on the other side.

Nigel: Wondering if you might wanna take a walk before curfew?

Jade opens her mouth to answer, just as the boys finish chanting “Bloody Mary” at increasing volume. After the third repetition, Jeff screams, causing Nate and Dave to scream in turn... until they realize Jeff was just fucking with them.

Nate: JEFF. WHAT DID I SAY?

Jade blinks, then gives Nigel a flat smile.

Jade: I thought you’d never ask.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - RILEY’S ROOM - NIGHT

Asher isn’t party to the antics in his room, having smartly escaped to hang out with Riley and Dylan before Nate took over. He’s crashed on the bed with Dylan going through pictures that they took over the course of the day. Asher frowns at one that Dylan swipes to, squinting to get a better look.

Asher: What is that supposed to be of?

Dylan: It’s not obvious? [ zooming in ] Look at that squirrel, Ash! They’re like up chilling on the abbey, welcoming us to their domain.

Asher: That’s your favorite picture you took today, isn’t it?

Dylan: Vicar squirrel. Squirrel vicar. I want her to bless our marriage.

They drop the conversation when Riley reenters the room, freshly showered and looking more at ease than she was most of the day. They ask if she’s feeling better, if the shower helped, and she confirms it did.

Riley: I really think it was just mainly the shock, you know? A lot of information to process at once that I wasn’t prepared for.

Asher: Totally. I get that.

Dylan: But it’s okay to be upset about it, too. Like, just because it’s not news you wanted to get. You’re allowed to be bummed about things not going the way you planned.

Maybe so, Dylan… though that’s obviously not easy for Riley to accept. She’s all about validating her friends’ emotions, encouraging them to feel whatever they need to feel, but it’s not so easy to practice what you preach.

Asher commiserates about unideal circumstances, though, as it’s his turn to complain about the wi-fi. He comments it’s like this place may not even have it at all… are they sure it’s not just a ruse? But his theory is disproved moments later when Riley’s phone starts buzzing, getting an incoming call.

Asher: Of course…

Dylan: You are so magical.

Riley’s expression lights up when she sees who it is, a picture of Lucas surrounded by kittens at the shelter appearing on her screen. She answers immediately.

Riley: Hello?

INT. ORLANDO HOME - DYLAN’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

The United Kingdom is intercut with Lucas back in Manhattan, changed out of his nicer clothes and back in a tee and comfortable sweats for the night. He smiles lightly when he hears her voice, realizing the call managed to go through. On the bed behind him, Dylan’s St. Bernard dog Mr. Puff is resting, idly watching Lucas move around the space.

Lucas: Hey. I got your message.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - RILEY’S ROOM - NIGHT

They’re connected, yes, but the service is spotty at best. Their voices get a little warped and Lucas cuts out for a moment, prompting Riley to start moving to find the best signal. She tells him to hold on, but to keep talking so she can see how he sounds. Dylan and Asher perk up.

Asher: Is it Lucas?

Dylan: It’s Lucas! HI, LUCAS!

Riley: Shh, I’m trying to listen!

Asher: Let’s go, Lucas James!

Dylan: LET’S GO, LUCAS JAMES!

Riley cracks up, shushing them as she continues to hover into different parts of the room. Finally, she seems to find a solution, heading towards the small balcony while the signal improves with every step. She grants Dylan and Asher a second to say hi and holds the phone out towards them, letting them shout at their best friend, then she hushes them as she steps out onto the balcony and closes the door behind her.

EXT. LONDON HOTEL - RILEY’S ROOM - BALCONY - NIGHT

With the signal clear and a quieter environment, the two of them can actually hear each other. Lucas admits he only heard about half of whatever just happened in the last minute, but she assures him it was just Dylan and Asher being silly.

Lucas: Sorry I missed your call earlier. I was, uh, preoccupied with something.

Riley: Oh, it’s okay. It wasn’t like a big thing. I just wanted… I guess I just wanted to hear your voice.

Lucas smiles to himself, bashful.

Riley: But we’re talking now, so, it’s all good. Got what I came for.

Lucas: Cool. Good. You said you had news?

Riley: Yeah. Um… [ making herself admit it ] I heard from Tisch. I got waitlisted.

Lucas: Shit.

Riley: Yeah.

Lucas shakes his head, trying to find the right thing to say. Riley fills the silence in the meantime, downplaying it.

Riley: I mean, it’s not a big deal. It’s one school. And you know, it’s like, I wasn’t even sure if I would’ve gone if I had gotten in. So it’s not like everything is ruined, or anything. It was just a surprise. That’s all.

Lucas: Still, that sucks. But they’re shitty anyway if they’re going to put you out like that. They obviously don’t realize what they’ve got in front of them -- especially if Maya got in and you didn’t.

Riley: I don’t know about that…

She’s disagreeing for the sake of cordiality, and she knows Lucas is one-hundred percent biased, but it’s still nice to hear him say it. And given how well they know each other, how close they are, Lucas hits on the true reason it stings so much effortlessly.

Lucas: You’re too good to be a second choice, Riley. If they can’t see that, then fuck them. You deserve to go somewhere that understands exactly how spectacular you are.

And though he acts like he never has the right words, he knew exactly what to say. Riley fiddles with the L charm on her necklace and chews her lip, unable to stop smiling.

Lucas: And anyway, you were stoked about Barnard, right? I feel like we talked a lot about them when you were applying. And they accepted you with a competitive offer, so clearly they know what they’re doing.

Riley: Yeah, they were my top choice otherwise.

Lucas: So you can start thinking about how you want to make the most of that now. You get to focus on all the possibilities, which I know you never get tired of.

Riley: [ with a laugh ] That’s true, I do enjoy possibilities. [ fondly ] Thanks, Lucas.

Lucas: Of course. Any time.

It almost aches, talking to him like this. Being so far apart, feeling so much that she can’t express the way she wants. It’s practically radiating off her, how much she loves him written all over her face.

Riley: I wish you were here. I know it’s kind of silly, because it’s only been a couple of days, but I miss you. A lot.

Lucas: [ after a moment ] Me too.

But he isn’t there, so they’ll have to make do. Riley isn’t ready to say goodbye yet, especially since there’s no telling when the next chance she’ll have decent wi-fi will be, so she keeps the conversation going.

Riley: I thought about you a lot today, actually. We went to Regent’s Park, and they’ve got a zoo...

Lucas climbs onto Dylan’s bed next to Mr. Puff, reclining back and settling in for a while.

Lucas: I hope you’re going to elaborate. [ softly ] Tell me about it.

So she does. Riley drops into a sitting position on the balcony, leaning back against the metal bars and launching into a thrilling recap. As the camera drifts downwards to the room a couple floors below...

Jack, pre-lap: Sounds like you’re handling it well, then.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - ERIC’S ROOM - NIGHT

Eric is on the phone as well, though he has the luxury of the international phone plan so he can comfortably sit at the desk in his room rather than cram onto the balcony. He’s just finished catching Jack up on the trip so far, and yes, the fact that no one has gotten injured or disappeared is a source of weary pride. Jack assures him that everything is running smoothly on the home front too when he asks.

Eric: Look at us, dividing and conquering. What’s that known as… could it be effective leadership? No idea what Yancy thinks he’s got on us.

Jack: To be fair, your leadership capacity was never in question.

Eric: No being fair to that man. He’s a hack, and he’s wrong. Moving on.

Jack laughs, Eric pleased with how he’s managing to keep him in lighter spirits.

Eric: You’ll be happy to know, actually, that I’ve been giving your proposition some thought.

Jack: [ tentatively hopeful ] Really? About filling out the principal application?

Eric: Don’t get too excited, I just said I’m thinking about it. But you may have made a few compelling points.

Jack: I often do.

Eric: What would be the harm in the practice of it, you know? Could be good to flex those muscles. And I know it wouldn’t go anywhere, since like I said, you’re the ideal candidate. So… I don’t know. Maybe it would be worth the time. I’m considering it, at least, so I hope you’re pleased.

Jack: Eric, I have no doubt in my mind that you would make an excellent principal. Especially at Adams.

Wow… Jack sounds pretty impassioned about that concept, especially for something only hypothetical. But it touches Eric all the same, his expression not looking all that different from how Riley’s looked while talking to Lucas.

Eric: Well, I should go. My night to do curfew rounds.

Jack: Best of luck, authoritarian-in-training. Make me proud.

Eric: Still stand by my stance that it would be better if you were here.

Jack doesn’t seem inclined to argue with that. But for now, nothing to be done. The two exchange goodnights and warm wishes, Eric smiling as he hangs up the phone.

INT. LONDON HOTEL - LOBBY - NIGHT

Jade and Nigel have lost track of time, situated in a couple of comfortable chairs in a small corner of the spacious lobby. They’re deep in conversation, the casual traipse around the hotel having shifted into a philosophical, meaningful chat that neither of them want to end.

Naturally, they’ve drifted to talking about the future, contrasting it against the minor vent session Jade already had in regards to the techie boys. She admits that she doesn’t really think it’s their fault, her irritation. It’s more about her.

Nigel: Why do you say that?

Jade: This is going to sound crazy, but I’m like… I feel like I’ve outgrown it. All of it. Does that make sense? Like, I love the techies. They’re like my brothers, they’re family. And I love being part of the A class. But the way everyone feels, this kind of drama around everything ending or whatever… I don’t feel that. If anything, I’m ready for something new. Sometimes it almost feels like it can’t get out of here fast enough. [ with an embarrassed laugh ] Does that make me a bitch? Am I way more soulless than I thought?

Nigel: I don’t think so. And I definitely don’t think you’re a bitch.

Jade: That’s impressive, considering the amount of Jade-specialty vent sessions you’ve had to listen to by now.

Nigel: You’re human. And remember, even your harshest mood is probably still leagues kinder than Maya Hart on any given day. Don’t forget context when you’re self-analyzing your own ugly emotions.

Good point. Jade runs a hand through her hair, tilting her head as she listens attentively to his perspective on it.

Nigel: But honest, it doesn’t make you a bitch. I get what you mean. Everyone is going to come around at different times, and deal with change in their own way, but I’m excited about what comes next. I think you said it right, the thing about outgrowing Adams. It’s not that you don’t appreciate it, and the people are always going to be family. But we’re ready to move onto the next thing. That’s okay. That’s a good thing, actually, most people would probably be jealous of how ready for it you are.

There is truly nothing so bonding and validating as a late-night conversation with someone you love. Jade smiles, grateful. She reaches out and takes his hand.

Jade: At least there’s one thing I know I’m never going to outgrow.

Aw… yeah, it’s kind of crazy to remember how long Jade has had feelings for Nigel. And it’s true that even as they’ve changed, she hasn’t outgrown them -- they’ve simply matured with them. Nigel beams, lifting their hands and planting a brisk kiss on her knuckles.

It would be nice if they could outgrow their rotten luck on this trip, though. They’re startled out of their quiet comfortability when Eric comes into the lobby on his rounds, spotting them sitting there. They blink at him, realizing they probably shouldn’t be hanging around in the lobby, and Nigel quickly checks his watch.

Jade: What time is it?

Nigel: Oh, shit --

From where he’s staring at them, dreading having to actually reprimand someone, Eric releases a pained sigh.

Eric: I really didn’t want to have to be an authoritarian…

EXT. LONDON HOTEL - ROOFTOP - NIGHT

The view from the top of the hotel isn’t the best, looking down on the streets of London and other hotels, but tonight is a little more interesting. There’s a night market going on, with vendors selling various cuisines and tourists who don’t have curfews wandering around. A SITARIST gently strums, creating a calm atmosphere.

Chai, who watches the scene from the rooftop, is anything but calm, though. She paces around, chewing on her nails as she waits.

When Isadora opens the door and creeps out, Chai drops her arms and halts. 

Isadora: I got your text. 

Chai: [ passive aggressive ] Nice of you to show up.

Confused and uncomfortable, Isadora asks what’s going on, to which Chai rolls her eyes. 

Chai: What do you think, Isa? [ off Isadora’s visible confusion ] You’ve been pushing me away this whole trip. No, even before the trip. I feel more like your annoying friend you secretly hate than your girlfriend. I’m fed up of it.

Oh. Isadora isn’t sure what to say to that. A STAFF MEMBER gets up from where they’re sat in a smoking area. They put out their cigarette and mutter a good luck to Isadora as they pass. She’s gonna need it. 

Chai: Why? I deserve to know. Did I do something wrong? Do you not want to be together anymore? What is it? 

Isadora: I… I don’t know. 

Chai: [ with a scoff ] You don’t know. Wonderful. That’s great, Isadora. Real great.

Isadora gets angry, not appreciating being shouted at. 

Isadora: What do you want me to say? Sorry? I’m sorry I offended you, Chai. There. 

Chai: I want you to tell me what’s going on with you! I may not be your therapist or Eric, but I’m your girlfriend and I deserve to know why you’re treating me like this. I deserve to be recognised.

Tell her, Chai. All of Chai’s frustration and anger over being ignored and feeling invisible yet again comes out as she vents. While this helps Chai feel somewhat better, as expressing your feelings always does, it overwhelms Isadora. She wraps her arms around herself and chews her lip. 

Chai: Relationships take work, Isa. If my parents divorce taught me anything, it’s that communication is key. But you don’t talk to me. You can’t even stand to be in my presence. It’s not fair. Either break up with me or act like my fucking girlfriend and COMMUNICATE!

Isadora opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Rather than give Isadora time to process everything she just said, Chai snaps that this just goes to prove her point. Her patience has worn too thin to be considerate. 

Isadora, quietly: Are you saying you want to break up? 

Chai: If that’s what you want, yes. I don’t want to be strung along when you want out.

Is that a yes or a no? Isadora isn’t sure. There’s no time to clarify, because Eric comes out of the rooftop door. Both girls turn to look at him. 

Eric: One of the staff told me two Americans were up here. You two okay? 

Chai, flat: Dandy. 

Eric: … great. It’s past lights out, so I’m going to have to punish you both I’m afraid. 

Chai: Fine. I don’t even care anymore.

Chai shoots one last glare towards Isadora before moving past Eric and heading downstairs. Yikes. Eric frowns, concerned. 

Eric: What’s going on there? Do you want to talk about it? 

Isadora, snapping: No. Leave me alone.

She marches through the door and into the lift, pressing the button for the lobby before the doors slide shut. 

Eric: Wait, where are you going? Your room is on the third floor. Isadora?

It’s too late. She’s gone. With a sigh, Eric pulls out his phone and enters the stairwell. 

Eric, into the phone: Harper? You’re gonna have to take over for me…

EXT. LONDON - NIGHT MARKET - NIGHT

Isadora steps out of the hotel into the colourful, lively night market. No longer in her clothes from the day, but a ‘60s punk inspired look complete with hair sticking up in spikes, heavy eye makeup and a leather jacket with chains on it. Despite the world around her being in colour, Isadora herself is in black and white.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Paint It, Black” as performed by The Rolling Stones || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz

The sitarist strums to start us off. Isadora gets a couple of coins out of her pocket and drops them into the sitarist’s open case. The gentle-looking Indian man gives her a nod in gratitude, and when Isadora nods in return, the drums kick in. In an instant, the sitarist transforms. He’s now dressed in punk clothes, and becomes monochrome like Isadora, who sets off down the street.

I see a red door And I want it painted black No colors anymore I want them to turn black

She sings in a flat voice, staring dead into the camera, unaffected by the jovial people around her.

A few feet behind her, Eric struggles to catch up as he moves through the crowd. While Isadora channels her inner Medusa and turns the people and scenery around her into a black and white 60s pink fever dream, Eric remains in colour and modern.

Isadora passes a flower stall and picks up a handful of colourful flowers.

With flowers and my love Both never to come back

She scrunches up the flowers in her fist, the now colourless petals fall to the floor. When Eric gets to the florist, he apologises and gives them some money for the ruined flowers.

Isadora arrives at the end of the street where she can look at the river Thames in the distance. The last of the sunset reflects on the water, the only remaining colour around her.

If I look hard enough Into the setting sun My love will laugh with me Before the morning comes

She finishes off the performance in the same spot, dancing like a punk rocker in a mosh pit. She slows to a standstill and looks across at the sunset.

I wanna see the sun Blotted out from the sky I wanna see it painted, painted, painted Painted black, yeah

A downpour of rain brings an end to the performance, melting away the monochrome and punk as it drenches everything. Isadora allows the rain to shower her, but Eric -- who’s finally reached her -- covers his head with his arms. 

Eric: Are you done being an angsty teenager now? 

Isadora: Yes. 

Eric: I’m going to have to add another punishment for this, you know that, right?

They walk back to the hotel as the vendors pack up their stalls and tourists run inside for cover. Isadora is certainly more colourful now with her green hair, but she still looks just as punk and angsty as before. 

Isadora: Whatever.

She quickens her pace so that Eric lags behind. He shakes his head. 

Eric: Adopt a teenager, they said. It’ll be so rewarding, they said.

EXT. LONDON HOTEL - DAY

 The A class is filing onto the bus the next morning, Freya standing by the doors and helping count as they board while Simon flatly delivers a rousing explanation of their itinerary for the day. They’re on their way to the National Theatre, so better get ready for some fantastic playacting.

As the techie boys board the bus, they each greet Freya cheerfully, mimicking tipping their hats at her. For her brusque demeanor, she seemed relatively charmed by their silliness.

Meanwhile, Harper and Eric have pulled aside Jade, Nigel, Chai, and Isadora. Harper has taken over the tough love authority role, informing them that due to their breach of curfew yesterday, it’s been decided that they will spend the remainder of the day separated. Nigel and Jade attempt to plead their case.

Nigel: We really weren’t trying to skirt curfew. We just lost track of time.

Jade: I’ve been a perfectly rule-abiding student my entire career at Adams.

Isadora, helpfully: You participated in the techie revolt.

Jade: [ without looking at her ] Thank you, didn’t ask for your input. Mister E, you know we weren’t doing anything wrong. Please.

Eric, reluctantly: Being out past curfew is doing something wrong, Jade. You and Nigel will have plenty of time to spend together on the rest of the trip. [ nodding towards the bus ] Let’s go.

Jade sighs, spinning and heading towards the bus in defeat. Nigel waits a moment and then uncertainly follows, not sure exactly how much distance he’s supposed to put between them. Harper and Eric turn to Chai and Isadora.

Eric: And Isadora, your extra punishment for leaving the hotel on your own --

Isadora: You were with me the entire time. 

Eric: Yes, but you left without me. I simply followed you. Regardless, your extra punishment is no spending money for two days. Every time you leave the hotel, or group, without supervision or permission, another two days will be added. 

Isadora: I’m eighteen, I can spend my money if I want to.

Eric gives her a warning look. Not one from the school trip supervisor, but one from a dad. Isadora sighs and nods.

Harper: Any other arguments from you, ladies?

They glance at each other, still fuming from their argument. Chai shrugs, projecting aloof.

Chai: A little space will be nice, actually.

She turns to go, marching towards the bus. Eric watches the exchange, eyeing Isadora curiously. Ready to talk about it yet? Isadora shakes her head defiantly, not in the mood. She stomps away, Harper offering Eric a supportive pat on the back. Being the authority ain’t no joke!

INT. NATIONAL THEATRE - LOBBY - DAY

Simon and Eric make sure each of the students has a ticket to the production they’re about to see of Oliver! Harper instructs them that although they can’t control which seat they get, they’re welcome to swap amongst themselves if they see fit like the plane.

INT. NATIONAL THEATRE - OLIVIER THEATRE - DAY

Farkle has settled into his seat, one of the first in the class. As fate would have it, who should have the seat next to him but Isadora. They exchange smiles when she drops down next to him, Isadora already more relaxed than she’s been on the rest of the trip so far.

Farkle: We’ve got to stop meeting like this.

Isadora: Why do you make everything weird? Stop.

Farkle: I’m just saying, there’s some kind of karma going on here that you and I somehow always end up stuck together. I’m just not sure which one of us is getting punished.

Isadora: Mutual destruction.

Oh, aye. Farkle nods, accepting that with an amused smirk. He does ask though if she didn’t bother to try and swap a seat so Chai can sit with them. Isadora shrugs.

Isadora: We can’t anyway. We got banned from interacting today.

Farkle frowns, bewildered. He starts to question further, but they’re interrupted by Maya arriving to join them. She plops into the seat on the other side of Farkle, greeting them brightly.

Farkle: You too, huh? Guess we really are tied by the red string.

Isadora: Strangled, maybe.

Maya: What? Oh, no, this wasn’t luck. I threatened Yogi into trading with me. [ with a beam ] Should be a jolly good show.

Another ominous statement that needs elaboration… but no time. The lights dim, signaling the start of the show as the orchestra tunes below. Farkle and Isadora exchange a look, the latter playfully bumping his elbow on the arm rest between them as they settle in for the first act.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Charlie is nearly ready for his reception, looking cute and polished in his khakis and dress shirt. No tie yet though. He pulls on the navy suit jacket and adjusts the sleeves, touching up his hair in the closet mirror. It needs to look combed and styled just the right way so that most of his guests won’t even notice the length.

Rosie knocks on the door, stepping inside the room when Charlie nods her in. She’s dressed in a cute floral sundress.

Rosie: You look like a nerd.

Charlie: Wow, thank you, dear sister of mine. What a nice thing to say to me, on this, the day of my celebration.

Rosie: I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It’s just a fact. And you are a nerd, so it’s fitting.

Charlie: You look nice, though. Bit bold on the eye makeup. I mean, I don’t mind, but don’t you think mom is gonna say something?

Rosie: Who cares? And honestly, no. You are the sole recipient of her smothering attention today -- I’m just the errand girl. [ holding out her hand ] She wanted me to bring you this, so you didn’t forget it.

A Yale lapel pin. Just in case anybody forgets for five seconds that he got accepted. Charlie takes it, barely hiding his reluctance.

Charlie: Great. Thanks. I’ll be down in a second.

Rosie nods, then hesitates. It’s obvious there’s something on the tip of her tongue, something she wants to say… but she doesn’t really know how to say it, or maybe even really exactly what it is, so she doesn’t try. She retreats and leaves Charlie alone.

Charlie looks at his reflection again, really scrutinizing it. It’s going to be a long day of presenting… he needs to brace himself as much as he can. He goes to get some fresh air, stepping out onto his balcony as the orchestration kicks up…

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Where Is Love?” as performed by Oliver! London Palladium Cast || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz, Farkle Minkus, Riley Matthews, Charlie Gardner, and Zay Babineaux

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

Charlie leans against the rail of his balcony, turning the Yale pin over in his fingers. A shiny accessory for all those shiny stats… he sighs, looking out to his neighborhood and closing his eyes. Absorbing the temporary calm.

INT. NATIONAL THEATRE - OLIVIER THEATRE - DAY

At the same time, the production of Oliver! is in full swing, teeing up the famous track. Our key A class players watch with varied levels of interest, the actual Oliver actor kicking off the song with the first verse.

Then, things get a little interesting. Smooth transitions and creative camera angles allow us to seamlessly move from one performer to the next, creating a tapestry of interpretations.

Isadora picks up the slack first, echoing the sentiments of the show as she takes over the next couple of lines from her spot in the audience next to Farkle. Her expression is pensive, heavy, speaking to any number of things -- her late mother, her fracturing romance, her friends going in any number of directions. She and Farkle harmonize on “that’s only meant for me,” cueing the first transition…

Only it seems at first glance like the actual performer is taking back over -- and that’s because Farkle is now occupying the stage. He’s inhabiting the role of Oliver (finally reaching his peak as sickly Victorian orphan), dressed in the costume and smeared with dirt, but fully immersed in the performance. It isn’t until his actual self chimes in, taking over halfway through and watching himself from the audience, that we understand his take -- is love the dream, the art, the opportunities he could chase to a stage in Los Angeles… or is it sitting right next to him, not wanting him to go anywhere? He glances at Isadora, contemplative.

‘Til I am beside the someone who…

Riley and Farkle’s vocals overlap next, and she takes his place on the stage. Only her set up is different -- stripped down, simplistic, and she’s plain-clothed -- and there’s only one member in the audience. She looks directly at an imaginary Lucas as she sings the famed title lines, eyes shining and the world just the two of them. The only audience she cares about; the one who has been elevating her to be more almost since they met.

Where is love?

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

Charlie examines the Yale pin, growing more and more averse the longer he does. He knows for sure that it isn’t love -- that there’s nothing he’s more apathetic about -- but if Yale isn’t the answer, what is? If not there, then where? Where does he truly belong?

Who can say where she may hide Must I travel far and wide?

Zay’s vocals ease in and harmonize effortlessly with Charlie’s, the screen splitting in a fade to show both of them as they share the next line. Then focus is solely Zay’s for a moment, him standing alone on the empty stage.

INT. NATIONAL THEATRE - OLIVIER THEATRE - DAY

There’s no one watching his performance, his question more of a shout into the void. With everything so frozen in time, on every front, he has to wonder when things will resume -- when someone will start putting him first again, that he can mean something to.

Then he prompts the final crescendo, all of the vocalists joining back together for a strong harmonized finish.

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

As the orchestration peters out, Charlie takes another look at the lapel pin… then pockets it, choosing not to put it on. He heads back into his room.

INT. NATIONAL THEATRE - OLIVIER THEATRE - DAY

The audience breaks into applause as the performer wraps up the rendition, the A class clapping along. The production rolls right along, oblivious to the projection the ensemble just imagined through the performance.

INT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - BANQUET HALL - DAY

Charlie’s reception is off without a hitch, a pleasant and charming gathering set up in the lovely banquet hall of their church. It’s well-attended for a graduation party, though it’s anyone’s guess how many of those people are there for Eleanor versus the actual man of the hour. She’s clearly in her element, entertaining a gaggle of church ladies and getting ample opportunity to brag about her golden son and all his accomplishments.

Eleanor: That’s right, Yale. Oh, we’re so excited. And you know, I don’t want to jinx anything -- but he’s been quite friendly with one of his good friends these last few months. Riley?

Trina: Oh, of course. You’ve mentioned her plenty.

Danielle: And we saw the prom photos! Such a gorgeous duo.

Maitland: Eleanor… you’re not saying --

Eleanor, coyly: I’m only saying, ladies. Keep your ears to the ground -- there might be some big news on that front any day now.

Well, I wouldn’t bet your pass to Heaven on it, Eleanor. The ladies twitter enthusiastically anyway, though, all sold on the concept of dear, darling Charlie perhaps announcing a commitment to Riley Matthews.

As misrepresentative as that sentiment is, Charlie isn’t completely without peers of his own. EVAN SCOTT has shown up to offer his congratulations, chatting with Charlie comfortably by the gift table where he’s easily accessible for guests to come and pay him well wishes. It’s nice of Evan to show up, and Charlie clearly appreciates it -- perhaps an actual friend came out of the hell that was Haverford after all.

Evan: I’m sure the rest of the guys would’ve come too, but I guess there’s a lot going on right now. Lots of post-graduation travel, you know?

They’d have to be invited to even know to show up, Evan, and even if they were, Charlie knows damn well that would never happen. He offers a tight smile anyway, opting not to get into it.

Charlie: Totally. Ha ha.

He’s about to gain another unexpected ally. He nearly falls over when Rosie bolts over and rams into him, speaking so fast and in a hushed whisper that he can’t even understand her.

Charlie: You excuse me for a second, Evan? I think my sister’s been possessed.

Evan laughs, giving them space. Charlie gets Rosie to calm down, instructing her to speak slowly so he has even a chance of understanding what’s got her so energized. She’s breathless, and her eyes are wide.

Rosie: Bridgette. She’s -- did you know that she was -- Bridge, she’s --

Her name was all Charlie needed to hear. He stabilizes Rosie by steadying her shoulders and then glances around her, looking towards the doorway.

Lo and behold, the rumors are true -- and spreading quickly throughout the congregation. Bridgette Gardner has arrived, timid but decisively, making an unexpected and triumphant return to the fray. She’s at least spared Charlie the drama of wearing a lace bralette by showing up in a casual but classy black jumpsuit, but her mere presence is enough to get people talking no matter what she chose to wear.

She and Charlie lock eyes, the latter breaking into a smile. Yes, it’s clear he was actually expecting her. He ignores all the eyes on him as he makes his way across the room and goes to greet her at the entrance, then suspends any potential assumption that she isn’t welcome by pulling her into a hug.

Well, this is guaranteed to be the talk of the event when everyone heads home this afternoon -- forget all of Eleanor’s careful planning. The woman herself is shell-shocked, doing her best to maintain appearances and appear unflappable but obviously stunned by the surprise arrival. Ambrose stares from across the room where he’s chatting with other husbands, equally caught off guard but seemingly not affronted by his daughter’s sudden reappearance.

Bridgette and Charlie pull apart. She scans the room around them, the nosy partygoers eyeing them with rapt interest, then raises an eyebrow at him. She offers a brave smirk.

Bridgette: Nice tie.

She’s right, it is a nice tie -- and she’d know, since she picked it out. Charlie glances down at it, a tasteful but simple floral pattern in soft blues, greens, and purples. Fresh, understated, and far more like Charlie than anything else picked out for the reception.

He returns her smile, then invites her further into the party.

Grace, pre-lap: So you think it went well?

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - DAY

Lucas and GRACE FRIAR are chatting at the kitchen table, Lucas helping her go through bills as they recap the gist of his interview. It’s hard for him to say, but all things considered, he didn’t think it went poorly. There’s a chance, at least, which is more than Lucas usually has to go off of.

It’s clear from the expression on her face that Grace is proud of him. She doesn’t know how to articulate that, and she’s only able to really show it in the moments when he’s not looking, but the glimmer in her eyes and small smile on her face leave little room for doubt.

She reiterates that she hopes it works out, because they really need the financial support. Going through the bills just makes that all the more clear… but she thinks he can do it. He can get the aid. And he’s been saving all that money to supplement it -- which he’ll need every cent of, to be sure -- but it could really happen. He might get out of here.

Lucas is obviously trying to keep his expectations subterranean levels of low, but even he has an excited edge to his voice when he talks about it. They transition to discussing the rest of the day, Grace asking if he’s got plans. With Riley and Dylan and Asher out of town, he must be bored stuck here with her.

Lucas: I’ve found bizarre ways to keep myself busy. But I have a quick thing to do in a few minutes, then I’m probably gonna go to the Orlandos again for dinner. I think Randall is making tacos.

Grace, wistfully: That sounds delicious. I can’t remember the last time I had a really good taco. I don’t know what I’m going to be doing for dinner… just pick-up, I suppose.

Lucas: Dad’s not eating with you?

Grace: He has a doctor’s appointment. Said he probably wouldn’t be hungry after.

Lucas: [ with a scoff ] Since when does anyone in this apartment go to the doctor…

He doesn’t bother to hide the bitterness in his voice. But Grace merely shrugs, claiming he just told her about it this morning. She thinks it’s just his annual physical -- something the two of them don’t get the privilege of having, of course -- but that’s all she knows.

Lucas gets up to get ready to go, claiming if she wants, he can ask Randall if she can come over for dinner. She waves him off, not wanting him to go to the trouble, but Lucas insists.

Lucas: Come on, mom. You deserve to have a really good taco sometimes.

Well, when you put it like that… Grace laughs to herself, then shrugs.

Grace: Why not. Better than anything I would throw together here, I’m sure.

That’s settled, then! Lucas tells her he’ll let her know when to head over tonight. First, though, he’s got business to take care of.

EXT. COVENT GARDEN - DAY

Covent Garden is bustling with people, tourists and locals alike. Boutiques line the streets, along with plenty of cafés and restaurants. The class is free to roam on their own (even Isadora), and they have a good couple of hours to do all the shopping they desire (except Isadora).

As the class sets off to explore, Eric thanks Freya for filling in for Harper. 

Freya: Don’t worry about it. Got nuffin’ else to do but sit in my bus, ‘ave I?

Eric is a little bewildered by Freya’s thick West Country accent, not having heard her talk this much before, but thanks her once again. He turns to Simon and asks him to show him where the best coffee is. If he’s going to survive any longer on this trip, he’s going to need a lot more caffeine.

Elsewhere, the techie boys arrive at the square where professional street performers work. There’s a STRING QUARTET playing music that matches the sunny weather and upbeat atmosphere, a CIRCUS PERFORMER walking around on super high stilts in stripy colourful trousers, and… a dog? A DOG MAN? A man’s head somehow stuck in a kennel? Whatever it is, their attention has been caught.

The dog man greets them as they run over to him, his accent northern and his tone depressed. It’s unclear whether the depression is part of the character or because of the fact that he’s playing this character. 

Nate: Dude! This is amazing! Quick, get a pic of me and this guy.

Jeff: Genuinely iconic. 

Dylan: Can I film you for my vlog? 

Dog Man: What the hell is a vlog?

Well, this’ll certainly keep them entertained for a while.

Jade and Isadora are wandering around the fruit market. Both separated from the other half of their couples, but one a lot more upset about it than the other. 

Jade: This whole thing is so insanely stupid. It’s totally cruel to ban us from interacting... we were literally just talking.

Isadora: Is it really that big a deal? It’s like one day. Why do you care?

Jade: ... because he’s my boyfriend? Because we were excited to hang out on this trip together? I don’t know. [ a beat ] You know, Dora, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve been a little sharp.

Isadora: No kidding?

Jade: Like I get it, I’m not in the best mood either. But... especially since you don’t even seem to care about your punishment, seems kind of weird.

Someone actually calling Isadora out on her behavior -- someone other than her father figure, that is -- kind of snaps her out of it. She blinks, twisting her fingers together.

Isadora: Sorry. Didn’t even realize.

Jade: It’s fine. I’m just saying. And like, you don’t even have to deal with it, really, since your girlfriend isn’t even here...

Isadora gets lost in thought, contemplating what Jade said. Has she been as barbed as everyone seems to think? Speaking of, where is Chai? And Harper, for that matter?

INT. GUILDHALL SCHOOL - CORRIDOR - DAY

The women sit in a makeshift waiting area along with other hopeful university students and their guardians at Guildhall University, a school dedicated to the musical and theatre arts. Chai seems nervous, but determined, tapping her foot lightly as they wait.

TRUDY, a short middle-aged woman with bright blue hair and a multi-patterned dress on, pushes open a door. 

Trudy: Rebecca Fresco?

Chai stands up and follows Trudy into her final audition. Harper gives her a thumbs up.

Harper: You got this.

Chai gives Harper a nervous smile. The door swings shut.

INT. GUILDHALL SCHOOL - REHEARSAL ROOM - DAY

Along a table sit the ADMISSIONS PANEL. There are six of them, including Trudy, who sits down in her chair while Chai takes position in the middle of the room. 

Chai: I actually go by my middle name -- Chai -- not Rebecca.

Trudy apologises and makes a note of her preferred name. She tells Chai that she’s the only American who’s gotten this far in the process. There are a couple of other foreign students, but they’re all from Europe. She goes on to explain that because this is the first year of their new, experimental arts degree, there’s a lot of things still in the air, and it will be shaped around what the students need and want. 

Trudy: Is there any particular part of theatre arts that you’re most interested in? I know you went to a performing arts high school, so I expect that’s your main focus? 

Chai: It is currently, yes. I’m very open to exploring other areas of the arts, though. My school has a way of bringing people together no matter what their focus is or where their talents lay, so I’ve gotten the opportunity to learn about the technical production side of theatre, too. 

Trudy: That’s great. What do you think you’d gravitate towards when studying here? 

Chai: Definitely dancing and vocal performance, but also stage makeup and costuming. I’m skilled in hair and makeup, and this past semester I’ve been learning the basics of designing and making clothes. 

Trudy: Brill. We can definitely cater to that. [ a beat as she and the others write things down ] Okay. You’ve prepared a performance for this audition, correct?

Chai nods. She has a vocal performance, then a dance performance. One of the admissions people gets the prepared music up on their phone and presses play.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Know I Have A Heart” as performed by Cinderella West End Original Cast || Performed by Chai Fresco & Isadora De La Cruz

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

Chai takes a breath, then sings. Her voice is bright and clear and she hits the notes with relative ease. She’s come a long way since the beginning of her journey at Adams and the days of being a backup singer for Maya. What makes this performance so impressive, though, is the passion behind it. The lyrics hit close to home at the moment, and the emotion she expresses packs a punch.

I was so not naïve With no heart on my sleeve Always walked out before I was rejected

When the orchestra comes in, Chai begins to move. She uses the space as if it’s a stage, treating the panel as an audience rather than the people deciding her fate. Her stage presence shines, the role of heartbroken princess a perfect fit.

I was so unaware That I could fall so hard But what good is a heart If you don't care?

EXT. COVENT GARDEN - NEAL’S YARD - DAY

We cut to the person in question, Isadora. She’s in a smaller part of Covent Garden full of colour. Some of the buildings have their walls painted, while others leave the bricks bare and instead paint the window frames and shutters.

Isadora looks through a shop window, then turns as she takes over the song.

Should have known all along That I need to be strong For a girl who's like me There's no happy ending

She walks towards a boutique, fancy dresses and glass slippers in the window. When the music swells into the chorus, she begins to waltz around the yard. We cut between her and Chai, who’s doing the same. A slow dance cut in two.

And it's shattered and bruised And now the laugh's on me Anyone want a heart that's barely used?

We continue to transition between the two as they both take on the final chorus together. They both put all of their anguish and frustration into the song, their vocals even more powerful and heart wrenching when harmonised.

INT. GUILDHALL SCHOOL - REHEARSAL ROOM - DAY

We end on Chai, breathing heavily after the final belt. For a moment the room remains silent, the emotional performance having suddenly made the atmosphere heavy, but then the panel burst into applause.

Chai allows herself a small smile, but knows that it isn’t over yet -- both for her audition, and relationship with Isadora.

INT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - BANQUET HALL - DAY

Bridgette saunters over to Charlie by the food table, leaning close to speak in conspiratorial tones as she reaches for a carrot stick. Both of them are very aware that all eyes continue to drift towards them, but for once Charlie doesn’t seem afraid of the attention. In fact, in a weird way, he almost feels a sort of pride.

Bridgette: Am I correct in guessing you didn’t let mom in on your little plan to invite me to the party?

Charlie: I don’t know what you mean? Doesn’t she seem completely in the loop?

Bridgette: Mm mm mm mm mm. Blasphemous behavior, and on such a momentous day. What gave you such a dastardly idea, Charlie -- the devil himself?

All jokes aside, Bridgette admits that she’s glad he asked her to come. It’s nice to be with the sisters again, and the look on Eleanor’s face was worth it alone. But it was a pretty sharp change of pace from wanting everything to go “smoothly” -- what made him change his mind? Charlie smiles, shrugging nonchalantly.

Charlie: I can do my own thing now and then.

That doesn’t make much sense to Bridgette, but it’s Charlie. She’s not going to question it. She lightly pinches his side, enjoying the feeling of being co-conspirators again -- but she clams up when Ambrose approaches. He clears his throat, gently getting Charlie’s attention.

Ambrose: Think there might be a bit of a mix up with the guest list. Are you expecting someone else?

You mean, aside from resurrecting the long-lost sister? Charlie looks appropriately confused, following Ambrose’s nod towards the entrance where Eleanor seems to be debating with a wayward soul who she is desperately trying to gatekeep from the party. She’s already had enough trespassers for one reception, thank you very much!

When Charlie recognizes who she’s confronting, his jaw drops open slightly. Lucas?

He exchanges a look with Ambrose before making a beeline for the door, intercepting his mother before she tears a biblical new one into Lucas.

Charlie: Mom, mom, it’s cool. I know him. He’s -- he’s a friend from Adams.

Eleanor: Well, he isn’t on the guest list.

Lucas: I’m not much of a list person.

Charlie: Seriously, mom, it’s okay. I’ll take care of it.

Eleanor remains displeased, but she allows Charlie to take over. She flurries back over to her friends in a huff -- how many other ways could this go wrong? Charlie waits until she’s out of earshot, turning his gaze back to Lucas with a million questions.

Lucas, deadpan: She seems nice.

Charlie: What are you doing here? I mean, not that it’s a problem. Despite the indignation of my mom -- she’s having a rough day.

Lucas: Rest assured, I’m not here to gate crash. I’m in and out; I think if I hung around too long in this place I’d probably burst into flames.

You’re not the only one, Lucas. He continues, removing his hands from behind his back to reveal he’s holding an envelope.

Lucas: I’m just playing messenger.

Charlie raises his eyebrows, looking at Lucas in surprise as he takes the parcel. It’s decently-sized for an envelope, and his name is scrawled on the front in Riley’s familiar loopy handwriting.

When he opens it and pulls out the card inside, though, it’s much more than just a message from Riley. It’s a custom-made card -- with the artistic expertise of Dylan, Asher, and Jade behind the design -- and on the back and all along the inside, his A class peers have written him congratulations sentiments and signed it. Even the teachers contributed, a kind message from Jack, Eric, and Harper present on the inside flap.

And yes, even Zay. He’s found a way to keep it casual while still meaningful, depth behind the message concealed in plain sight amidst all the other well wishes and in spite of how weird things are between them at the moment.

Good job surviving. Wherever the hell you’re going after this, don’t forget where you belong… or whatever 1D would say.

Charlie laughs, a bit choked up. Sure, none of them could be there in person due to bad scheduling, but he was dead wrong if he thought they were going to let him celebrate alone -- least of all when Riley Matthews is involved. 

Charlie: This is great. Thanks for delivering. You can tell Riley it was well-received.

Lucas: My life’s work.

Charlie: Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I know my mom seems scary, but --

Lucas: Believe me, she is far from the scariest thing I’ve ever confronted. But I’ll pass. It’s taco night at the Orlandos, so I’ve got better places to be.

So with that, he’ll leave him be. Charlie thanks him again for bringing the card, letting his focus drift back to the gift once Lucas is gone. Then he lifts his gaze, something across the room catching his eye.

Ambrose has taken the spot he vacated, actually talking to Bridgette. It doesn’t look like the easiest conversation in the world, but it’s something, amicable communication for the first time in years. And if Ambrose is willing to open up the door for her, to give her a chance… well, who knows what he might hear out from Charlie, too.

Charlie can’t help but smile, hugging the card to his chest while he watches part of his family slowly rebuild.

INT. COVENT GARDEN - SHOPS - DAY

The A class are free to roam throughout the centre, Riley and Farkle taking some time to browse for souvenirs. Farkle hesitates when he spots something he’s sure Isadora would love -- an embroidered patch with something darkly silly, a perfect match for her aesthetic -- pointing it out to Riley. She agrees Isadora would like it, he should grab her and show her while they’re there.

Farkle: Well, I was thinking more like…

Farkle stops his own sentence. He was thinking what, that he’d get it for her? That he’d give her a gift for no reason, as if that’s something normal people do? As if he’s not continuing to kid himself, playing into these weird instincts with her when she has a girlfriend and only sees him as a friend?

Farkle: Never mind. I don’t know what I was thinking.

Riley commiserates, commenting that shopping for others can be tough no matter who it is. Like, she’s been keeping an eye out for something to get Lucas all trip so far, but nothing has jumped out to her.

Farkle: Is he that picky?

Riley: No, although that’s kind of the problem. He’s not really a gift person, because he never like… thinks he wants anything, so he’ll basically accept anything and be cool with it. But that makes him impossible to shop for, because there’s not really a clue as to where to begin.

Dylan and Asher chime in from the opposite side of a shelf.

Asher: Seriously, he’s awful.

Dylan: So true, bestie.

Riley: Besides, it’s not even necessarily him that’s the problem. It’s just like… there’s nothing good enough.

Farkle: I’m sure the artisans here will really appreciate that review on Yelp.

Riley: [ elbowing him ] Not like that. I just mean… nothing is going to convey what I want to say properly. [ softer ] No souvenir gift is going to capture how I feel about him. It’s too much.

Doesn’t help that her primary love language is physical touch, and he’s currently thousands of miles away. Sort of makes Farkle’s angst about Isadora feel trivial in comparison. He gives her an awkward pat on the shoulder, though he’s not going to be of any help to her gift dilemma.

Some jaunty, understated guitar floats in, echoing throughout the Garden…

EXT. COVENT GARDEN - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Step Inside Love” as performed by Cilla Black || Performed by Covent Street Performer

A new STREET PERFORMER has taken the limelight, gathering the attention of much of the wandering crowd. She’s blonde and spritely like Maya, only with a head of curls, but her vocals pack a serious punch. She’s animated and riveting, delivering a soulful rendition of the classic British tune and earning a decent chunk of change in tips in the meantime.

One of the people captivated by her performance is Maya, who stops wandering the stores to listen. Her eyes sparkle as she gets closer, sensing a kindred spirit in the brassy busker. And she’s impressed by how deftly she can hold a crowd -- the Garden breaks out into applause as she finishes her rendition, Maya an eager participant.

She makes a point of approaching when the crowd has mostly dispersed, launching into effusive praise. The street performer listens with mild interest as Maya… well, does her Maya thing, dramatically insisting upon their twin soul energies and lauding her ability to command a space with her stage presence. That, and she has such admiration for someone like her, out there busting her chops to follow the dream wherever it might take her. Starting from nothing, scrounging towards the goal. It’s inspiring, really.

At this, though, the street performer snorts, catching Maya by surprise.

Street Performer: Oh, fuck me. You think I’m some poor bastard, don’t you? Singing for pennies to earn my daily bread.

Maya: Oh, no. No, I just meant --

Street Performer: Love, I went to a conservatory. One of the top bleeding performing arts programs in the country, at that.

Maya, stunned: What?

Street Performer: That’s right. Class of 2015, in the flesh. Oh, and they promised us everything. Going to such an elite school, with such strong credentials, it was supposed to be a direct pipeline. That’s what they said, anyways. Straight to the West End! Well, look around us -- does this look like the West End to you?

Maya: … no. No, there must be a mistake. If you were to have graduated from a top program, then you wouldn’t be --

Street Performer: I did, and I am, love. Look right in front of you, see me with your eyes. And read my lips: it’s all a sham. I sing because it would kill my soul not to, but it’s a thankless time. Do yourself a favour, jump off this train before it runs off the tracks. Unless you want it to be you wiping your bum with your fancy university degree with nothing to show for it in five years time belting classics for spare change next to a little dog man!

Dog Man: Hey… woof. 

Street Performer: An absolute farce!

Whatever Maya was expecting from the networking moment, it sure as hell wasn’t that. She’s dumbstruck, completely bowled over by this unanticipated reality check -- and not even sure how to move past it. She’s rooted to the spot, the rest of the world continuing on around her as if she’s not even there.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack is working on the final details of his reapplication, all the pieces polished and ready to submit. Just a tweak here and there… but something about the process feels emptier now. Like he’s doing it, but somehow, his heart is no longer in it. It’s hard to see how that could’ve happened, when this place has been his whole entire world for so long.

But there are new paths stretching out in front of him now… if he chooses to follow them. He releases a sigh and leans back, surveying the office that he’s inhabited for so many years. It’s strange to think that he could be anywhere else… but it doesn’t feel impossible anymore.

At the moment, though, he’s sure of one thing -- there’s somewhere else he’d rather be right now. Struck with inspiration, Jack pulls his laptop closer, settling into new work.

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - DAY

Rosie and Charlie deposit the last of the graduation gifts on his bed for him to go through -- mainly envelopes, lots of money. Rosie scoffs as she sifts through them.

Rosie: I can’t believe this. People are basically paying you for getting through high school. This is such a double standard.

Charlie: What? How?

Rosie: Male privilege. Everyone just loves to hand you cash. You know what they’re going to give me when I graduate? Flowers. And like, probably gift cards to Pottery Barn.

Charlie: Hey, you can find some pretty neat things at a Pottery Barn if you look hard enough. And flowers are nice. I could go for some flowers.

Rosie: Of course you could. Nature boy. But flowers die in like a week, and I can’t buy movie tickets or eye shadow with $15 to Pottery Barn.

Charlie shakes his head, amused. Speaking of nature… the two of them meander their way out onto the balcony, opting for the pseudo-privacy and fresh air. After a full day of church community socializing, it’s nice to take in some quiet for a minute… until Rosie breaks it, surveying his room through the sliding door.

Rosie: Do you think I could swap the blinds on the door for drapes? I’m trying to decide how I’ll decorate once you’re gone and I take over your room.

Um, she thought! Charlie refutes this, claiming there’s no way she’s getting his room. He’s going to college, not military school, so he’ll still need a house to come back to every few months. And sorry, he’s not giving up his sacred balcony that easily.

Rosie: … so you’re planning on coming home? Or like to visit. At least sometimes?

Seems Rosie found an indirect way to ask the questions she really wants to know… Charlie realizes from the subtle nerves in her voice that this is the first time she’s had a sibling leave home since Bridgette. And she might be back now, in a surprise twist, but when she left the first time she really just left.

Charlie remembers how that felt. It would scare him too. He quietly assures her that he’s not planning on going anywhere for too long, and he’s never going to disappear out of her life.

Charlie: No matter where I am, or how long I’m there, you can always talk to me. You know that, right?

Rosie: … yeah. Yeah, I do. [ a beat ] I guess like… maybe I might miss you. Or something. Whatever.

No kidding… Rosie takes the chance to reiterate that Charlie can talk to her, too. About anything. She knows she’s the younger sibling and he’s like weird about taking pride in being the “role model” or whatever, but she’s getting older too. So if he wanted, he could talk to her about stuff. Like with Bridgette. And with him going off to college, there will probably be lots of new things to discuss.

She’s doing her best to tee him up… Charlie exhales a laugh, scratching his ear.

Charlie: Honestly, think there’s still plenty of stuff for us to discuss here.

Rosie: Like what? Daisy’s sudden career in climate change --

Charlie, quickly: That I’m gay.

Oh. Well there it is. Charlie obviously didn’t mean to stumble through it like that, to just spring it on her so haphazardly, but the instant he realized he was actually going to say it, it’s like it just slipped out. And the silence that follows doesn’t make it any less clunky, Charlie keeping his gaze anywhere but at her as he braces for potential rejection from one of the people he cares about most.

But Rosie isn’t going to reject him. In fact, she smiles instead, clearly pleased he finally said it.

Rosie: That’s nice.

Charlie: … you don’t sound surprised.

Rosie: I had my guesses. [ off his expression ] Charlie, you went with me to 1D concerts. You’ve never had a girlfriend. We’ve watched probably forty Riverdale makeout scenes together, and not once did you ever react to Cami Mendes or Lili Reinhart. The only time you ever reacted at all aside from getting all awkward was when I said KJ Apa looked good during a shirtless scene, and you agreed.

Charlie: I don’t even remember that --

Rosie: Also you’re like, the nicest boy I know, and I’m not just saying that because you’re my brother. In fact, the fact that you’re my brother and I’m still saying that shows how ridiculously nice you are. No straight boy is that nice. That was my main reasoning.

Well, damn. You think you’re covering all your bases… anyway, Rosie is just really, really glad he finally told her. That means a lot to her. And she promises, sincerely, that his truth is safe with her. He keeps her secrets and always protects her -- now it’s her turn to do the same.

And that’s clearly a relief to Charlie. His greatest fear was always that he’d fall from grace, that if she knew she’d no longer look up to him, but it seems like the opposite is true. He steps forward and pulls her into a hug, one that she happily reciprocates.

When they pull apart, she throws an “ew” out there, just for the sake of bratty sibling consistency. Charlie laughs and messes with her hair, telling her to ew herself. After a moment of silence, now that they’ve cleared things up, Rosie has a new topic she wants to unpack.

Rosie: So you had a boyfriend, right? Like a secret one.

Charlie: Um, what --

Rosie: Who was it? Charlie, tell me. I have to know now.

Charlie: No. No, mm mm, we’re not doing that.

Rosie: I have theories. Wait, just listen to my theories and tell me if I’m hot or cold.

Charlie: [ heading back into his room ] Nope. Not doing it.

Rosie: You need to tell me! I put research into this! I’m only asking you to hear out my potential suspects --

Charlie: La la la la la --

Rosie eagerly follows after him.

EXT. LONDON STREET - NIGHT

Audition over, Harper and Chai are on their way back to the hotel as evening falls. Chai excitedly talks about the course that she auditioned for and how student-focussed it is. Harper nods along, having already heard all of these earlier in the year when Chai was working on her application. 

Chai: You just don’t get this sort of stuff in America. You have to take so many different classes, you don’t get to just focus on your major. But here, they do specific courses. Honestly, there are degrees for everything under the sun. While I was researching I saw one for stand-up comedy. 

Harper: Not sure how I’d feel if I knew John Mulaney had a degree in comedy. Gives a totally different spin on the college bit he does. 

They change topic to London, Chai reminiscing on her time here as an exchange student and mentioning how excited she’ll be to come back if they accept her. 

Harper: I hate to dampen the mood, and I know you have your heart set on this place, but have you seriously thought about what moving here would mean? 

Chai: What do you mean?

Harper: You wouldn’t be moving here as a high school student. You’d be an adult. That means finding your own housing after freshman year, getting a job, building an entire new network when you already have one in New York. It’s not all red buses and hot accents, Chai. You’re entering the real world, with nobody to help you out. It’ll be damn hard. That’s not to say you shouldn’t do it, I fully believe you can. But you should really think about what studying here will be like.

Chai hadn’t really thought about it from that perspective before. Everyone she knows is in New York. Her entire support system is in New York. Would she be able to hack it on her own on a whole other continent?

But then again, does she really want to stay in New York for people who can cast her aside so easily? Her parents barely noticed she was gone during the exchange programme, and the way things are with Isadora right now… there’s not much tying her to the states. 

Noticing Chai’s now uncertain mood, Harper tries to lift her spirits by asking her if she’s excited for the rest of the trip. This does perk her up, but the questions surrounding her future are still strong in the forefront of her mind.

EXT. LONDON HOTEL - PATIO - NIGHT

Zay has stationed himself on the patio of the hotel restaurant, offering him a decent view of the city as the evening descends into night. Farkle peers out from inside the building and spots him, coming over to join him.

Farkle: Rooming with me and Maya truly that bad? You don’t have to hide out, you know. You could just ask us to cool it.

Zay: You know that joke doesn’t land when you know damn well telling you two to chill would do fuck all. Since when have you ever listened to me?

Farkle: Touché.

Zay: But no, amazingly, not every choice I make is about you. I’m just getting my fix of the nightlife before curfew. Based on how Eric cracked down on Nigel and Jade, I’m not trying to incur his chillingly supportive wrath.

Farkle: Understandable. Especially Eric’s unique brand of scary. Mind if I join?

Zay gestures blasély to the chair next to him, Farkle taking it. He asks Zay, now that he’s observed it so much, how he’d rank London.

Zay: Well, it’s no New York City, but it has its charms.

Farkle: Loyalist, I see.

Zay: NYC is a hellish pit, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. What can I say, it’s home.

True enough. They settle into silence for a few moments longer, Farkle actually lasting an impressively long time for his usual standard, before he breaks it again.

Farkle: I was hoping to ask you something.

Zay: Just when I thought you might actually manage a peaceful moment.

Farkle: Hey, I was quiet. For like, thirty seconds. And you should know me better than that at this point.

Zay: Unfortunately, I do. [ with a sigh ] Go on.

Farkle: Now that Maya’s told you about the business card… what would you do? If you were in my position?

Zay: I hope you realize that you stumbling into this opportunity, having a bona fide connection to the industry fall into your lap based solely on your talent and potential, and then saying fuck it and throwing it all away would be the most privileged white people shit ever. You do realise that, right?

Farkle: Yes, I’m aware of the potential optics.

Zay: Okay, good. Just checking. Otherwise… I mean, I guess the bigger question is why wouldn’t you? Go after it?

Farkle: Why wouldn’t I?

Zay: Yeah. Like I said, this is the kind of thing basically everyone at Adams would kill to have in their pocket coming out of graduation. And you appreciate that, obviously, if you’re seriously considering it. So that just leaves the question of why not? What’s making you hesitate?

Farkle contemplates the question, not sure he wants to face it. Because it means being vulnerable, and he’s never been especially good at that.

Farkle: I suppose it’s just like… it’s kind of what you said. New York is home. You know? And I know that’s part of what college is all about, leaving the nest and all that, but… I like the way things are here. I like… [ searching for the words ] I know the city. I know the culture, I know the people. I love the people. Everybody I love is in New York.

Zay knows that feeling. He nods.

Farkle: And for a long time… the friends I have now are everything to me. I know what it’s like to have nothing, to have no one in your corner. I don’t ever want to go back to that. I’m just worried that… if I go away, if I put those aside to pursue this thing that might not even pan out… it’s not worth the trade. I know now that it’s not an even trade. And I’m so good at accidentally fucking everything up… [ timid ] I don’t want to risk chasing the dream somewhere unknown if it means losing my team.

Given Farkle’s history, Zay can see how this concern is particularly gripping for him. And the root of his fear is something all of them are feeling -- everything is about to change in a few weeks, they’re all going to go their separate ways, and there’s no way to know that these friendships will hold. Especially if they go in such different directions.

Still, can’t put your life on hold to cling to the way things are.

Zay: I get what you mean. I had my diva phase this year, you saw it, so you know I know what I’m talking about. I get how chasing after one thing can feel like you’re neglecting the other, that this stupid art kind of makes us so crazy that we push everyone else away in the pursuit of it. I think it’s a valid worry.

Farkle: Yeah?

Zay: Yes. But I don’t think that means you shouldn’t do it. I think you just have to find your balance -- which you should be good at now, considering how much damage control you’ve already had to do.

Farkle: Fair point.

Zay: As for the distance… look, I’m not gonna act like I’m some kind of expert. I’ve been in the same place my whole life. I’m not planning to go far if everything goes as planned, least for now. And being away from people you care about sucks, no matter how big or small the space between you. But… sometimes it’s necessary. Sometimes it’s for the better, getting some separation from the way things are.

Farkle: Really? You think so?

Zay: Yeah. I didn’t always, trust me, but it’s like… sometimes I guess it’s like you get stuck, and the only way to get past it and continue to grow is to step back. Branch out on your own, see who you are without that crutch. And the thing is, man, if someone is really your friend, they’d want you to do that. If we’re all just trying to find the best version of ourselves, and someone cares about you, then they’d want that for you too.

Farkle: Huh...

Zay: I don’t know what I’m saying, okay, I’m just talking out of my ass here. I’m not Riley, I don’t have the perfect advice. But I just think that… there’s no guarantee that going somewhere different, leaving the life you have right now, is going to irreparably damage everything. Especially if you’re doing it for a good reason, like pursuing your passion. And if your friends are true friends, they’ll push you towards that goal rather than pulling you back. If someone really loves you, they’ll want to see you at your best. They’ll set you free… and if it all works out, and you come back stronger for it, then even better.

Took Zay a lot of struggle on his own to reach that conclusion, but it seems like he’s pretty sure of it. And Farkle evidently appreciates the honesty, absorbing the sentiments and trying to figure out what that means for him.

Zay: I don’t know if that helps. Like I said, I’m just talking.

Farkle: No, no, you’re -- it does. Thanks, Zay. [ off his nod ] You know, you’re part of it. That team I don’t want to fuck up.

That’s sweet. A little weird, since they don’t really do the whole sentimental thing with each other, but it’s clear it means something to Zay. He clears his throat.

Zay: Well, don’t worry about hopping to LA, then. Your fun facts and trivia are going to kill this thing way before long distance ever would.

It’s true, distance makes no difference on whether he’s annoying or not. Farkle laughs, raising his hands in surrender. Then he grants Zay what he’s been asking for this whole time -- some actual quiet, leaving him be after thanking him again for the help.

Zay settles back in his chair, leisurely rotating his left ankle to keep it loose. Although he’s finally starting to wean off the habit, given how useless reception has been, he pulls his phone from his pocket and nonchalantly checks it anyway. Not expecting much.

So it’s a major shock to discover he has a notification in his email -- from Turner Academy. Even just from the message preview on his lock screen, he can see what it says.

Your portal status has been updated.

Zay jolts upright, cursing to himself. Heart suddenly pounding, his hands shake as he unlocks his phone and pulls up his web browser to log into the portal. He needs the wi-fi to hold together just long enough for him to look… but then he hesitates. Does he want to know? Is he ready to know? Is he prepared to face the consequences of whatever he finds out?

The hesitation only lasts a second. Yes, he’s ready -- he’s been ready. He’s ready for the torture to be over, to have closure either way. He clicks into the portal and selects the dropdown menu for application status, which has a notification bubble indicating it’s been updated.

It takes eons to load with the shitty internet. Zay holds his breath, watching the wheel in the center of the screen spin.

Then it loads. Zay takes a couple of seconds to read… and his expression shifts not to elation or devastation, but confusion. He reads the message again, then over again, even refreshing the page to make sure he’s not getting an error.

But the status displayed remains the same.

Additional Action Required. Please call the admissions office to learn about your admission status.

It takes a few more moments for that to properly sink in. Then Zay frowns.

Zay: What the everloving fuck --

EXT. LONDON HOTEL - DIVA ROOM - BALCONY - NIGHT

Maya is taking in the same scenery on the tiny balcony outside their room, though her expression is far more melancholy. She’s lost in thought, not even noticing when Farkle returns to the room.

He pokes his head out and greets her, leaning back against the doorframe. He asks if she’s okay, as she’s been uncharacteristically demure since they left Covent Garden. She brushes off his concern, claiming she’s just absorbing the spirit of the city before they go waste the next few days out in the middle of nowhere.

Farkle: I wouldn’t call Stratford or Liverpool the middle of nowhere.

Maya: To each their own.

She delivers it with her usual melodramatic snark, but Farkle is right that there’s a muted quality to it. The easy confidence isn’t quite as sharp as it usually is, and a seasoned veteran of Maya Hart can tell the difference.

Still, she assures him that she’s fine, so he lets it be. He suggests she not stay out photosynthesizing too long -- they’ve got an early start tomorrow as they head out of the city. She nods him along, waving off his concerns.

Farkle: By the way, I am seriously considering my choices. I’m going to give the LA opportunity all the thought it deserves. I promise.

Maya, delicately: I know. I know you are.

Farkle steps back inside, gently cracking the balcony door behind him. Maya watches him disappear into the bathroom nook, waiting until she’s alone again to let the facade crumble. She turns to face the city twinkling around her, confidence zapped entirely. It’s clear the words of the Garden performer really hit her, that they’re taking a toll she didn’t anticipate anything could.

Even with the best performing education money -- or scholarship -- can buy, could it still all be for nothing? Is it even worth it? And even more terrifying, is the dream even accessible at all, or is she destined to discover that she’s wasted the best years of her life chasing a passion that she’ll never be able to catch -- even with all the talent, drive, and preparation she can muster?

Could everything she believes in actually be totally, utterly empty?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Where Is Love?” as performed by Oliver! London Palladium Cast || Performed by Maya Hart (starting at 2:25)

Acting as a reprise of sorts, Maya eases into her own rendition of the West End classic by singing through the final verse and chorus. But it’s a meek performance, timid in a way Maya never is, real fear and uncertainty cracking the notes in her delivery.

Becoming a star has been her driving force for as long as she can remember. If the dream isn’t real, then where is love?

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

It seems a day trip to Albany and gate-crashing a graduation party are the fires that forge friendship, because Charlie and Lucas are hanging out again. They’re not doing much, Charlie writing thank you notes at the counter while Lucas goofs off during another slow shift, but they’re choosing to occupy the same space while they do, which is certainly not nothing.

That, and they seem remarkably at ease around one another for having only just really started talking. At least enough to do silly, dumb shit that boys find entertaining -- Lucas has built a catapult out of silverware, assuring Charlie that he’s got many hours of food-flinging expertise under his belt and he’s about to see a champion in action. This is very important, complicated Chubbies work at play. Then he picks a fry off Charlie’s half-finished plate and loads the catapult spoon with it, pausing for dramatic effect.

Lucas: Ready… ready… 3, 2 --

He hits the base of the spoon and sends the fry flying into the air, easily managing to catch it in his mouth. An expert champion indeed, clearly of very important matters. Charlie gives him a round of applause, Lucas holding his arms out in victory and giving a pseudo-bow.

Charlie: Wow. I see why they pay you the big bucks.

Lucas: Damn straight.

Lucas just starts to load the catapult up again when Jack pushes into the diner, spotting him and marching over. He seems a bit frazzled, a man on a mission, but there’s an excitement charging his movements. An almost youthful glow about him, eyes twinkling with a mischief you’d never see when he’s in the halls of Adams.

Lucas: Jack? What are you doing --

Jack: Good, you’re here. I was hoping you would be. [ noticing Charlie ] Oh, hi, Mister Gardner. You’re here too. That’s nice.

Charlie: Um, hi, Principal Hunter.

Lucas: Everything okay? You seem a little --

Jack: You want to go to London?

That stops Lucas in his tracks. His eyebrows shoot up, completely caught off guard.

Lucas: What?

Jack: I’m going to London. You want to come to London? Because if you want to go, we can go. I’m going.

Charlie, uncertain: Maybe I should go...

Jack: Oh, Charlie, you can come too. I’ve got an extra ticket. I was going to invite Shawn, but… you know, you’d actually probably appreciate it more.

Charlie: I -- um -- ?

Lucas, bluntly: Are you on crack?

He sure seems high on something all right. But no, Jack Hunter is one-hundred percent sober, and one-hundred percent serious. He’s cruising on the freedom of new beginnings, and he just might take the two of them along for the ride. 

Charlie: Principal Hunter, sir, I’m --

Jack: You can call me Jack, you know. You’re not my student anymore.

Charlie: … right. Well, Princi -- Jack -- you just said it. I don’t go to Adams anymore.

Jack: Yeah, well, you don’t go to Haverford anymore either, do you? So you’re not really anything, technically. And you know we had you for three years, which is more than enough in my book.

Lucas: I can’t go on the trip. I don’t have the money, remember?

Jack: As if most of your peers aren’t on the trip on their parents’ dime. And I’m here with a spare ticket -- it’s not a matter of “can” you, it’s a matter of “will” you. Obviously, no one has to go if they don’t want to, but that’s exactly my question.

A question that completely turned their worlds upside down. It’s truly crazy, how things can change in the blink of an eye -- one moment you’re wandering Los Angeles, you’re participating in a student protest, you’re signing thank-you cards and catapulting French fries, and in the next an opportunity comes knocking that could change everything.

The question is, do you answer the door? Do you take the leap?

Jack: So? Are we going, or what?

Charlie stares at Jack, dumbstruck, then shifts his gaze to Lucas. Are they? Lucas contemplates the offer… then he locks eyes with Jack.

The subtlest of smiles sneaks onto his face.

TO BE CONTINUED.

END OF EPISODE.

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

Ive never really understood the hype surrounding Taylor Swift - I mean, I like some of her songs, but im not big on modern pop music so generally she just doesn’t really click for me. But I find it interesting that theres quite a few of Beatles/Swift blogs - like, they should have very little in common given that they’re from completely different eras and all, but somehow people seem to find a lot of semblance between the two. << and thats not me shitting on any of these blogs btw! Hope I don’t come off as rude or condescending there <3

Anyway, I was just wondering what got you into Taylor Swift? (I think ive read your post on how you got into the Beatles)

Hi, anon! Don't worry, I don't think you're rude or condescending! I agree they don't have too much in common and I don't really like their music for the same reasons.* I do have a playlist of Paul songs that have similar vibes to Taylor songs but it's mostly lyric-based. (Also the Beatles For Sale songs actually have quite the Taylor-tinge because Paul and John were not immune to Country Music)

I saw @stewy say once that a possible reason there are a good handful of us Swiftie-Beatle People on here is the appeal of a vast discography, which I agree with. If you have an artist/group with 200ish songs, it's just really fun to really dive into their work and explore all the facets. I also think: we're talking about the most popular band of all time and one of the highest-selling artists of the 21st century. They have a lot of fans so there's bound to be overlap, regardless of musical differences.

Moving on to your question: Getting into Taylor was an extremely personal experience for me and so my explanation is probably going to be kind of long so I'll put it under a read more.

It was spring-summer 2014, I was 15. I had heard the more popular songs of hers starting with Love Story and enjoyed pretty much all of them (I always found her hopelessly romantic point of view fascinating) but before I got a Spotify account in 2013 it was difficult in general for me to really get into an artists' entire discography so most of her songs had flown under my radar.

At the time, I was in this very weird sort of codependent online friendship with this girl who was basically my first real best friend and my first more or less crush. She was very depressed and I was very much in an I Could Fix Her™ mood, except that I obviously couldn't fix her and it made me feel like I wasn't enough and she had begun pulling more and more away from me and not replying to my messages and it was simply driving me insane. I consider it the saddest period in my life.

at some point during this period, I started trying to connect with other people (all online, I didn't know how to talk seriously to anyone IRL) and explaining the issues I'd been having, and one of the people who brought me joy and whom I actually felt not drained talking to was a huge swiftie. And IDK the fact that she loved Taylor and the fact that talking to her made my life better (and also the fact that I liked all the Taylor songs I knew at that point) just made me decide to give her a listen. And I think that whole "large discography discovery" phenomenon really helped me at the time (funny, because her discography has doubled since then). It gave me something new to focus on; there were just so many songs to discover, all telling such rich stories. I also have always loved bridges, they are almost always my favourite part of a song. And Taylor, god-bless her, loves them too and always puts her ALL in them. Like pretty much every bridge of hers brings the song to the next level, and even a lot of her songs I don't adore tend to have great bridges (Stay Stay Stay and Paper Rings come to mind). I think one of her most underrated qualities is how good she is at song structure and really building up an entire musical journey with a song. She also almost always adds cool ad-libs in her second and third choruses to keep the songs interesting and dynamic (or at least since she's gone pop). Anyways, back to the story: Then Taylor announced 1989 as her next album and released Shake It Off, and it was just like this great happy thing for me to look forward to, when I had very little keeping me going. The era was promoting a lot of happiness which in hindsight was slightly fabricated and it was just a really great thing for me to latch onto.

At the same time I was coming to realize that I was gonna have to pull away completely from my friend and all those break-up songs just… Hit, y'know? Like, some people seem to think Taylor's a one-trick pony because she likes to write break-up songs but to me, break-ups are just like this moment where you as a human can potentially feel every single emotion, and Taylor's songs have covered every facet of the concept. Here are some songs I remember from that period, that all meant a lot to me at the time because they explained my own pain to me so well:

Haunted, for the absolute terror you feel in the first moments you realize someone is probably gonna leave you. Come on, come on / Don't leave me like this / I thought I had you figured out / Something's gone terribly wrong / You're all I wanted.

I Almost Do, for the inner turmoil you feel when you know you have to stay away from someone for your own good but you really, really have to resist just running back to that person. We've made quite a mess, Babe / It's probably better off this way / And I confess, Babe / In my dreams you're touching my face / And asking me if I wanna try again / With you / And I almost do.

Last Kiss, for that absolute sadness that comes simply with remembering everything that was good and not comprehending how it could've possibly ended. I still remember / The look on your face / Lit through the darkness / At 1:58 / Words that you whispered / For just us to know / You told me you loved me / So why did you go / Away?

Forever and Always, for that feeling of desperately wanting to hold on to what you still have but at the same time realizing it probably isn't going to last and having no idea how to fix it, plus feeling like the other person doesn't even care. So here's to everything / Coming down to nothing / Here's to silence / That cuts me to the core / Where is this going? / Thought I knew for a minute / But I don't anymore.

Dear John, my all-time favourite song, for that moment you find clarity and realize that you deserved better and that you were headed in an extremely dark direction because of this other person. [DISCLAIMER: my friend did NOT abuse me nor did we have some inappropriate age difference. But the way she would ignore me and her general moodiness really affected my own mental health and self-worth problems] You paint me a blue sky / And go back and turn it to rain / And I lived in your chess games / But you changed the rules every day / Wondering which version of you I might get on the phone / Tonight / Well I stopped picking up / And this song is to let you know why.

(She's covered more aspects of break-ups in other songs [cheating, divorce, feeling awkward around your ex amongst others], these are just the ones I remember being really important to me when I was first getting into her)

She really helped me feel a lot less alone during one of my loneliest periods and I really can't thank her enough for that. Soon after this, I started crushing on a girl in my class and Taylor's love songs started to take on a new meaning for me as well.

What's crazy to me is, when she went on hiatus for a few years, a part of me thought maybe I'd grown out of her and no longer had much in common with her, but when reputation came out I was pulled right back into my love for her as a person and musician and then when Lover came out I found that she was still explaining feelings to me better than I ever could (specifically with the songs The Archer and Cornelia Street). And now with folklore and evermore she's simply absolutely perfected her story-telling and I find myself deeply moved even by the songs I don't directly relate to. I feel like she has this amazing ability to find the absolute truth in the specific. I've never had a summer romance with someone who already had a girlfriend and mostly wanted to go back to her, and yet the bridge of august feels so real to me, y'know?

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Cancel plans just in case you'd call And say, "Meet me behind the mall" So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose

It's hard to explain but looking at this, like it's so much more than the story it's telling. It's talking about how when you're young you really need so little to feel satisfied; how sometimes the idea of someone maybe spending time with you is better than actually doing things with other people; and how if someone using you without much thought can make you feel like you're not even entitled to grieve what you lost. Sorry. I'll stop. Don't want to go insane.

So, all of this is very personal and unique to me, but I think really the main thing that draws me to her is how vulnerable and honest she is about emotions, how eloquently she can explain the pain of being alive to me. Some people think she isn't the strongest singer, but I think, much like John actually, one of her greatest assets is how good she is at projecting emotion. The song happiness is a song I think has some lyrically weak moments but her vocal performance on it is so raw and devastating that every single line works even when, looking at it on paper, it feels like it shouldn't.

Hope this rambling made sense to you, lmao?? I love talking about Taylor though so thanks for the ask! Also very open to giving song recs if you do want to check her out more but I won't unless solicited to lmao *Sort of off-topic but I do think there's a relation between my fascination with the Beatles' history and my love for a great break-up song. I like pain I guess :)

[cafedanslanuit]

RFA + Saeran / dirty dancing

okay so i’m thinking dirty dancing as reggeaton bc i’m a sucker for latina!MC, just because i’m laughing thinking of them in a latin disco. i’m also adding the song i was listening to with each character (not necessarily related to them, i just put my playlist on shuffle)

yoosung (x)

he’s so scared when he enters your favorite disco

like so fucking scared

the music is way too loud and j– are those people having clothed sex?

he listens while you try to explain how to dance reggeaton

but doesn’t really get it because that lady over there is bending over and just–

suddenly he stops thinking about it because he looks at you swaying your hips

and he can’t look anywhere else

you take it slow because it’s his first time and just dance in front of him, respecting his space

he’s shook

suddenly, he notices other guys looking over at you

mostly drooling honestly

so he grabs your waist and pulls you closer

you think he’s getting more comfortable so you put your arms around his neck and keep dancing

rip yoosung

zen (x)

he’s actually really excited when you tell him you want to go dancing

even more when you suggest going to a latin disco, because you’re missing home

he takes your hand as you two enter 

he’s excited to learn more about your culture!! because it means a better relationship!!!

but oh he wasn’t prepared for that

you start rocking your hips TOO close to him and –

U N L E A S H T H E B E A S T

he warns you about dancing way too sexy

you just laugh it off

he looks around and noticed everyonce is dancing like you

some girls are even grinding against some boy’s thigh

but he doesn’t really care because you just started singing along with the music and FUCK he just loves it 

zen doesn’t really last more than two songs before he’s convinces you to go back

he needs to show you what your dancing is doing to the beast

on your way back, he asks if you can dance like that again at home

but only at home

because all men are wolves, mc

jaehee (x)

she’s not one for going out dancing

but it’s your birthday so she complies

she even agrees to go to a latin disco and tries her best to hide the fact the music is way too loud

you dance softly next to the bar while you’re waiting for your drinks

you know she’s not really into dancing

but holy–

suddenly she can’t stop looking at you because you’re muttering the words to some spanish song she doesn’t really know

but you look so beautiful and she feels lucky

you hand Jaehee her drink and she smiles at you

maybe these discos aren’t that bad

jumin (x) this song is definitely jumin han omg i’m dying

he obviously knows spanish

his dad made him study

not as good as you, obviously, but he has been practising more since you two started dating

so when you start singing the lyrics to the song he just loses it

“what do you mean you like older guys, MC”

“you like bigger… what? WHAT DO YOU MEAN SO BIG IT CAN’T FIT YOUR MOUTH?!”

he’s never heard you talking like that

not even when you’re making love

not even when you tell him how much you want him

but you’re there, freely dancing an singing about liking older guys

and how you like being treated like a lady but not so much on the sheets

he can’t help but laugh a little because it’s true

he smiles again when he remembers he is, in fact, older than you

very sly, mc

you wink at him, knowing he can understand what you’re singing

he loves the way you’re rocking your hips and moving your body closer and closer to him

he takes a mental note to have that kind of music on his spotify playlist because he definitely wants you dancing like that again, maybe with less clothing

saeyoung/luciel/seven (x)

let’s be honest

he fucking knows the coreography

you like to dance around his house while you’re cleaning

youtube has nice playlists with reggeaton

once, he looks at you dancing some kind of coreography

he looks over at your laptop and it’s definitely a coreography

so obviously he tries to dance like the guy in the video

he fails

but you both laugh so much

so when it’s yoosung’s birthday and everyone is dancing

he slides a bill to the dj and asks for that specific song

so you both dance the coreography like the dorks you are

honestly, it’s endearing

you love having someone you can joke around as much as you do with him

saeran (x)

he doesn’t know spanish

secretly he’s trying to learn but he’s still in the early stages so hasn’t told you yet

he also doesn’t go to parties

but likes watching you dance around

this beat is calmer than the other songs you usually dance

you’re singing around and sometimes you point at him

he arches his eyebrow and you laugh and fucking hell, how much he loves watching you laugh

he goes back to his phone, playing uninterested 

but obviously using shazam to know what song it is and its translation

apparently, it’s a romantic song

so it’s cute watching you dance around his bed

it’s a sunday morning after all

the way you’re moving your hips is sinful, tho

god bless latinas

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

Employed To Serve are putting British metal back on top

For the past decade, Justine Jones and Sammy Urwin of Employed To Serve have helped elevate British rock and metal both on and off the stage, from Album Of The Year releases to their championing of new bands. Now, with fourth full-length Conquering on the horizon, the pay-off is being felt across the entire scene…

Some years ago now, at the end of her last job in retail, Justine Jones made a decision. Providing she could eat and had a roof over her head, she wasn’t, she told herself, going to spend her life doing anything that was “un-fun”. Instead, Justine decided, she’d navigate the world by working hard on the things she loved and that she truly believed in.

“I’ve never been content to be a cog,” she says. ​“I’ve always wanted to be like a very heavily involved person. I like having a say, I guess. I’ve never liked having a manager, in terms of work. I have got that childish, rebellious thing, like, ​‘Don’t tell me what to do.’”

Employed To Serve are not cogs. Nor are Justine and guitarist Sammy Urwin ones to sit around and wait for the lights to go green. With what the singer calls ​“our Hatebreed, perseverance attitude”, a self-starting, hands-dirty, DIY ethos that’s as much about enthusiasm for music and building a scene as it is firing up pits, they have become one of the most exciting British metal bands of the past decade. When Oli Sykes invited them to join the Bring Me The Horizon-curated All Points East festival two summers ago, he noted that they were ​“one of the few heavy bands around who I actually like”.

Kerrang! had got there before him, mind. In 2017, we crowned Employed To Serve’s second album, The Warmth Of A Dying Sun, our Album Of The Year. Its follow-up, 2019’s Eternal Forward Motion, was awarded a full 5K rating and a spot on our front cover, their second. When they gave us the nod a while ago that they were about to drop the first single from their brilliant fourth album, Conquering, coming this September, we didn’t even need to think about giving them a third.

Like Oli’s band, there’s an energy to Employed To Serve, an orbit around them that feels like it’s pulling in other bands, linking seemingly unlinked outfits together through sheer enthusiasm. Beyond the band, offstage, Justine and Sammy run Church Road Records from their home in the Surrey commuter town of Woking (a place notably annihilated by Martians in H.G. Wells’ War Of The Worlds). Through this, they can sign and put out music by bands that they like: the only real signing policy amounting to ​“bands that excite me”, says Justine. There’s as much gratefulness towards the artists they release – Svalbard, Palm Reader, Cruelty, to name but three – for trusting them to look after their records, as there is to anyone who gives their own band the time of day.

“As cheesy as it sounds, we’re lifers,” says Justine. ​“I love music. I love releasing it. I love that I do it for a full time job. I love playing live. First and foremost, we are music fans. Obviously, we love being in a band and stuff. But we just live and breathe music.”

As with so many things for so many people, the depth of this dedication was thrown into sharp focus as COVID took hold last year. At the end of 2019, Employed To Serve were on a winning streak. Eternal Forward Motion was one of the year’s most acclaimed releases, they band had spent a month on the road with Bury Tomorrow in Europe and the UK, and on New Year’s Eve, Sammy and Justine put a bow on their long-term relationship by tying the knot. In March 2020, just before lockdown ended touring for everyone, the band’s UK headlining run just about snuck in, and saw them sell out London’s Camden Underworld, a show that ended in chaos with the audience onstage triumphantly carrying Sammy on their shoulders.

When things ground to a halt, the gap left was palpable. Once source of reflection came in taking stock in what the band had achieved, while also having to find a replacement for guitarist Richard Jacobs. It’s an exercise the pair are admittedly used to, to the point where Justine says, ​“We probably look like dictators, like it’s the Sammy and Justine show.”

To wit, keen observers will note that they are the only members of Employed To Serve to be on both this Kerrang! cover and the last one. There’s no bad blood anywhere – Richard left to move to Japan with his wife, drummer Robbie Back has become a dad, bassist Marcus Gooda went on to focus on other things – it was simply the wage of getting older in a band. When life’s forks come up, you have to make a choice. For Sammy and Justine, the choice just happens to be to stay the course. Three new members have been drafted into the band – guitarist David Porter, bassist Nathan Pryor and drummer Casey McHale – but it still provided a moment of reflection for what was actually important.

Another, more serious bit of stock-taking came last September, when Justine resigned from her job as a label manager at Holy Roar records, after serious assault allegations were made against the label’s owner. Soon after, that label folded entirely.

But in both cases, where events could have sown doubt or caused serious damage, things instead bloomed. And so, Sammy and Justine turned Church Road – a small concern of Sammy’s for years already – into a full-time occupation and livelihood, taking on Holy Roar releases already on the slate and pressed, and releasing them herself. In the case of their first release, Svalbard’s When I Die, Will I Get Better?, there was barely a month to move everything over, and yet it still hit the shelves on the day it was always intended to. Because, looking back, it’s almost like there was no other consideration than to carry on.

“When everything happened, I thought, ​‘Maybe I could go to a bigger label or something.’ But that’s not where my heart is,” says Justine. ​“My heart is in finding bands in tiny little venues and then helping them grow into their second hours and stuff. And it’s just more fun. Obviously, it’s very scary [running your own label], and I’ve spent a lot of this past year very stressed. But I don’t have to answer to anyone – I just do the best I can for the bands because I love them. My favourite thing is sitting on Bandcamp with a coffee or a beer, and going through each genre finding the best bands of that day, or going through Apple Music or Spotify and finding new bands. It has been like that since I was a kid. So doing a record label just makes sense.

“Obviously I wish it was under better circumstances, but COVID has been almost like a blessing for this band, because it’s helped us regroup,” she continues. ​“It made us take stock of all the cool shit we’ve been lucky enough to do. Because sometimes when you get caught in the rat race of everything, you’re never really living in the moment. And then COVID happens, and you think, ​‘What do I miss?’ Friends, family, playing shows. And I’m like, ​‘Cool, I’m doing the right thing. Let’s get back to it.’”

For Justine, this meant becoming the boss. For Sammy, already a music obsessive with an apparent addiction to both old-school death metal and playing guitar in as many bands as possible as a member of Renounced and Motormouth (as well as playing in Glorious with Justine), it was an opportunity to dedicate his life to his passion even further. A gardener by trade, he’d lately found himself wondering what was beyond it.

“I was doing gardening work on and off for the last 10 or so years. I enjoyed the work, but sometimes I would kind of find myself being a little bit like, ​‘What’s the five-year plan?’” he says. ​“I’ll always do the band. But we got a few members going off and doing other stuff. I knew I had to find something else to do, because I wanted to do something in music that also fit around being in the band. I just knew I wanted to be with like-minded people talking about music all day.”

Sammy and Justine talk about music a lot. Get Sammy started on metal, and his enthusiasm quickly runs away with him. For Justine, their impending gig at Download Pilot a couple of days after our interview is as much about watching everyone else as it is their own show. Though one of the heaviest bands on the line-up, as a showcase of the breadth of rising talent the British rock scene has, appearing on the same ticket as Enter Shikari, Trash Boat, Creeper, Boston Manor, Neck Deep, Loathe and Conjurer is a large-scale version of what they’ve been driving at for years.

“It’s so funny, because it kind of sounds weird, but within the British scene, it makes total sense,” says Justine. ​“It’s a very rich scene at a minute, and it’s for all spectrums. You have bands like Orchards and Gender Roles on the Big Scary Monsters label, but equally, there’s loads of heavier bands, too. Everyone knows how hard it can be being a British band, because it’s hard to get over to America. And now, unfortunately, it’s gonna be hard to get to Europe [after Brexit]. So everyone’s got this thing like, ​‘We’re this little island here and we need to stick together and support each other.’ It’s a nice collective, and a moment in time to be a part of.”

“Even though we’ve written a more metal record [with Conquering] for us, that’s definitely not a statement of us closing the door,” says Sammy. ​“Obviously we’d love to tour with Gojira or Lamb Of God or something like that. But if Creeper came to us and said, ​‘Do you want to tour with us?’ we’d say yes.”

It was on such a line-up that Justine first appeared on the cover of Kerrang!, alongside Becky Blomfield of much-missed alt.punks Milk Teeth, with whom ETS were touring at the time. It not only showed two rising talents in the British scene, but also how well such different ends of it slotted together. Which was kind of the point.

“We were like the little metal sandwich in that tour,” says Justine. ​“But we worked well, because it was an example of this sort of British scene that’s going on at the moment.”

“People turned up who would be wearing ETS T‑shirts, and then singing along with Milk Teeth and vice versa,” says Sammy. ​“That’s so cool to see. Obviously there’s still a little bit of gatekeeping going on in the world of metal. But, for me, that was a really good sign of a shift.”

“It makes total sense. I don’t know why it’s not more of a thing, having mixed bills like that,” says Justine. ​“Everyone in our generation grew up listening to Slipknot and blink-182; two polarising bands, but it makes total sense. I listen to both of them religiously. So that actually kind of makes sense in a bill. It’s literally a music fan’s show. I remember Thursday opening for My Chemical Romance at Wembley on The Black Parade tour when I was 14, and Reuben opening for Billy Talent as well. I literally got to get into heavier stuff from those mixed line-ups.”

Put it to either of them that between their music, DIY attitude and simple lust for wanting to marshall a scene without walls, Employed To Serve could be called leaders, or at least the setters of examples for others to follow, and it’s a compliment they’ll take, but also something that they don’t want to take too much credit for.

“I mean, it’s for others to say, isn’t it?” says Justine. ​“We just have mental to-do list of stuff we want to achieve. And if that inspires people, that’s sick. It’s never like we try to be the leaders or anything.

“At the end of the day, I love the idea of kids getting into metal because of us and vice versa.”

As such an entry point, Conquering is a very good one. Ultra heavy and explosive, it leans even further into Sammy’s love of death metal OGs like Morbid Angel and Death, plus classic thrash, with shredding solos everywhere, as well as more vocals from the guitarist. And not even changing three-fifths of the band since their last album has had anything other than a sharpening effect. Fundamentally, Conquering is exciting, full of energy, and powered by a deep-set love for simply doing it.

“The floodgates have been opened, I guess, in terms of wearing our influences for this record on our sleeve,” says Sammy. ​“I like to think we still maintain the ETS that was there before, but it’s obvious that during lockdown and leading up to this record, for me it was about early Machine Head and Testament and Exodus and stuff. I feel like this is our chance to show that side of us a bit more.”

“It’s where I feel at home, as well, because I grew up listening to early Lamb of God and ​’90s-era Roadrunner Records bands,” adds Justine. ​“Straight-up metal, but not straight-up metal in the sense that we’re doing it by numbers. We sound like us, but there are more choruses and solos.”

“Lyrically, it’s similar to Eternal Forward Motion and touching on some pretty bleak stuff, but for the most part we tried to put a positive spin on it,” says Sammy. ​“I wanted put all of that energy into something positive. I didn’t want to say the same things again, because I didn’t want to make it sound like it’s the same record. I’d say it’s an even more positive record than before.”

The day we meet for this interview, long after the tape recorder goes off, conversation about bands and music continues into the small hours. Three days later, at Download, as Sammy chucks himself into the crowd at the end of the band’s set and Justine alternates between roaring her head off and smiling her face off, the delight in all this is self-evident. Employed To Serve are one of the best metal bands in the country – one of the best bands full stop, in fact – but on a broader scale, they also act as a reflection of an emerging wave of bands for whom being in a band is an act of joy, of doing something with your life, of not settling for things that are, as Justine says, ​“un-fun”.

“Stuff in the band does get to you sometimes and you do get grouchy or whatever,” admits Sammy. ​“But we realised that we’re also very fortunate people who have played with people that have become our best friends. It’s about taking stock and being like, ​‘This is fun.’ That’s what the album is about. It’s about not letting things in your life get the better of you. Because sometimes they do, and you find yourself getting all aggy, and you’re only doing yourself a disservice at that point, really.”

“I think Henry Rollins said, ​‘Tenacity over talent,’” says Justine. ​“We work hard, but it’s tenacity. You could be the sickest guitar player but just sit in your bedroom and never play a show. No.”

“I mean, I do set myself up for it, where I’m kind of pulling my hair out,” adds Sammy. ​“I’ve had times where I’ve had three or four band practices a week. And there’s a gig this night, and a gig that night, and I’ve got to do this, that and the other. But you’ve gotta be in it to win it. And when a cool gig comes about, or cool tour comes about, or you’re just really happy with what you recorded, that’s when you know it’s worth it.”

As they say themselves, Justine and Sammy are lifers. As other members leave to start families or move abroad to begin the next chapter of their lives, rather than feeling left behind, it’s almost made them realise even more quite what a special thing they have.

When it brings you as much happiness as doing this clearly does, what else do you need? And anyway, it’s worth it to not simply be a cog.

[inkyblacc]

Amazon is Run by Cowards

I have been a victim of an Amazon scam, and then a victim of the American site's worthless customer service (the Canadian customer service was pretty good). The scammers must have targeted my account because it is not eligible to post reviews, which is infuriating considering the shitty product I got as part of a brushing scam is MOSTLY fake reviews that somehow got verified. Because Amazon is run by Beezoos, the most cowardly coward of all, y'all on my Tumblr get to see my review of M35 BT 5.1 Wireless Earbuds. Beware the buds. You shall soon see why.

Note: I wrote this review in character as a good Christian wife (tm), and while I'm not not Christian, I'm deliberately aping the most insufferable kind of Christian alive. Good? Good.

We begin.

If I weren’t a believer in Christ, I would think that receiving a box of wireless headphones I didn’t pay for after loudly whining about wanting wireless earbuds to my dear husband was most serendipitous. However, as I am a believer in both Christ and logic, the fact that someone has sent me a box of wireless earbuds in a brushing scam has left me left with the sneaking suspicion that I have asked and received, but that the Lord protects me and not my data.

Thus there is no other choice than to write a review for these things. If my data is being used to help third-party scammers write fake reviews, then I have no choice but to do God’s work and write an honest review for these earbuds, as it will help keep the balance of paid reviews written with poor grammar and honest descriptions of actual products.

I opened the box of earbuds and immediately saw instructions written in a language I can’t read. This did not bode well. I flipped it over and saw a language I do read, which instructed me on how to charge the earbuds. I immediately dropped the charging case because I was not blessed with dexterity and because the plastic is very smooth and difficult to grip. It is the size and shape of a container of breath mints, and I anticipate popping one of these into my mouth by accident in the near future. It took me a few tries to insert the earbuds into the case, and that didn’t bode well either. The instructions weren’t exactly clear. Then I located the world’s shortest charging cord--it’s half the length of my short little 5'4 forearm and plugged it into my computer. While I was half-convinced it would upload some mysterious virus onto my computer, I am most disappointed that I won’t have the opportunity to clack at my keyboard like a movie hacker in an attempt to stop the virus. I’m assuming that the four dots indicate the level of charge to these things, and the final blue light couldn't quite figure out if the earbuds were adequately charged or not. In an effort to have this out post-haste, I decided to risk not having the full power of my earbuds. Full power = one hour. Sometimes, you really do get what you pay for. The lights on the minty fresh carrying case stay on for a few seconds after the things are pulled out, which seems like a colossal waste of battery for something that only holds an hour's worth of charge.

I attempted to connect the device to my laptop. It appears that my laptop is equally confused about how I came to be in possession of these earbuds because it couldn’t find them. I followed the instructions, which admittedly didn’t have very good grammar, and it still couldn’t find them. I heard “power off” in my ear so the things were on at some point. I had to put both back and then pop one out to see and start the discovery process over again. I’m not sure how they were powered off, as the instructions left no “remarks” (as they put it) on how to turn the earbuds on or off. When I stuck the other one in to evaluate the sound quality, it made a noise of protest, like it resented being out of the warm plastic cocoon and in my ear. I don’t like that. That’s an automatic star docked. I demand respect from my devices and tolerate no talk-back.

In truth, I resent this thing as much as it resents me.

It works. I can say that much. But the sound is tinny. I fear to see the sort of beastly ears these things are designed for because they do not fit in my good Christian ears at all. I suppose this is better for my ears long term, thank the Lord, but in the short term, I cannot hear my anime without cranking the volume on my laptop to the max, as the kids say. It sounds like I’m listening to someone watch Hunter x Hunter in the other room, and I want the sensual voice of Hisoka delivered right into my ear parts, so loud it’s like nothing else but Hisoka exists.

God forgive me, I am but a simple simp.

I disconnected the earbuds from my laptop and heard a voice, like from a garbled DVD rip of a foreign film, telling me I was disconnected. While I appreciated the notice, I couldn’t help but wonder why a robot from the seventies was shouting at me.

I did not have to restart the process of seeking the earbuds on my phone. It just took about seven minutes to do so. It then took two tries to pair them with my phone. Again, this did not bode well. But, I have never been one to acknowledge red flags, which is both how I met my ex-boyfriend and how I got banned from the local go-kart track. I made sure it was connected, though the name had changed from M35 to BTRAVE, like “betray”, and M35 had vanished just like the rum in that delightful pirate movie, and then I went to play the first YouTube video I saw. The earbuds had disconnected without the vintage robot telling me, and I was blasting book reviews for the entire house to hear, as my phone speakers work and these earbuds do not. In the spirit of second chances, just as Lord Jesus would do, I tried again. Once again, the robot voice of a bygone era graced my ears, and I went to Spotify instead. Well, wouldn’t you know it, but they had not connected either, and now everyone I live with knows that I enjoy emo music I should have grown out of ten years ago.

So, in short, the Lord works in mysterious ways and the devil grows ever more powerful. I asked and received diddly fricking squat. They worked with one device and not the other, thus making them slightly useless for taking calls as the poorly written instructions advertise. I have never felt such disappointment, not even when I grew out of my emo phase and realized that this is just my personality and all the adult contemporary in the world couldn’t change that. In short, I received this product for free, and it still isn’t worth what I paid for it. Sometimes, it really do be like that.

Praise be, and have a blessed day.

[thechillicount]

Let's Talk: A3!

Yes, I'm deep into A3!

It's the kind of fandom I follow stuff about on Twitter rather than here on Tumblr.

I got into A3! before summer 2018 and played it for a few months. Stopped because my phone could not take it.

Recently I started playing again 'cuz I missed seeing and hearing my boys. Plus they put all of the A3! music onto Spotify so that also pushed me to get into the game once more.

Speaking of boys, here are my favorites! Even if I love and appreciate all of them!

Best boy. Love of my life. I'm so happy whenever I see him.

If we talk cards then Banri is such a good boy! ;;; He comes home even if I don't want him too. Just like when I tried to pull for Tenma and he came home instead. Bless Banri.

Just yesterday when I booted up the game again I somehow got so happy when I got him to remind me that data is downloading. All because I've been thinking about how much I want his DEAD/UNDEAD SSR card. I already have Azami so come one Banri, come home again.

Speaking of music. I first listened to some of the songs the day they were put on Spotify as previously I haven't even tried to search for them. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't even know what to look for. And Banri singing??? PERFECTION, his seiyuu is amazing wtf.

I love this bad boy so much. He's super freaking pretty too. Not fair at all. Not fair.

And when you find out in Act 2 that he decided to pursue acting in college?? MY HEART CLENCHED AND I COULDN'T GET UP. I was so proud of him??? From a guy who was bored af 'cuz he could do anything and then found someone better than him in fighting so he decided to try and beat him up. To a cutie pie who got to really love acting. I stan a character development.

My tsundere tangerine.

To be honest, I don't know why I love Tenma that much. Sure, I always like characters voiced by EguTaku but not to THAT extent. Like. I would KILL FOR TENMA. And for the whole Summer Troupe actually. My fave boys.

I'm only saddened by the fact that I have only one SSR of Tenma. Unbloomed to boot. ;;; And it was somehow not easy to get.

I love Tenma's eyes. I always like purple eyes~

I wish there was more Tenma fanart. ;;; Or is it just me not being able to freaking find any???

Again. Stan Tenma's character development. From an asshole to a good leader always ready to help his mates. I actually melt whenever he's giving advice. So that's probably why Summer Troupe's Act 2 chapter is my ultimate favorite. I'll get to why soon~

My baby boy that I love with all my being.

I loved Azami before I even met him.

I first saw him as a card in game. A simple one. But I fell. You know why? EYES. Idk why.

Thank God right now I'm in the middle of Autumn Troupe's Act 2 chapter. So I have a lot of my boy.

Btw, what's up with all 14 year olds being taller than me? My brother, Azami, Saburo. What the hell.

He's so goddam cute and I'd destroy the universe for him. I'm serious.

Speaking of cuties!

Does he realize I'd kill a man and hide the body for him???

But as I already said with Tenma, I'd kill and hide the body for every boy from the Summer Troupe.

Never wanna see him cry again. Protecc this precious smile. Let's stan and protect Kumon along with Juza.

But for one of them I'd cry a river because he's so cute.

😭😭😭😭😭 He's so cute I cry every single freaking time.

Who wouldn't kill for Taichi?

I know I would.

Never wana see him cry again. #protecc

So ya in short: Banri, Tenma and Azami are my top 3 best boys. Although Itaru sometimes jumps in when he's being a lil dumb gamer. Love him too. He's actually been the one who showed me A3! so I really can't help but love him.

My fave troupe is Summer closely followed by Autumn. ♡♡

I love all Summer boys and I'd kill for them. Have I said this already?

SANKAKU 🔺️

[dailyaudiobible]

12/21/2020 DAB Transcript

Zechariah 1:1-21, Revelation 12:1-17, Psalms 140:1-13, Proverbs 30:17

Today is the 21st day of December welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian. Today would've been my parent’s anniversary. It’s funny how you remember all these things when they come up. But I obviously have lost both of my parents, but I am grateful that they had a wedding day or none of us would be here doing this right now. So, grateful today for my parents but also grateful every single day for you, that we can come around the Global Campfire together no matter what's going on and relax, exhale, come into a safe space where all the things that are going on, they…they can wait, they can wait a few minutes, they'll still be there. But we may need a change of perspective before we come unglued about them. And maybe with a change of perspective we go back out into the day energized, restored, oriented to God as we take the next steps forward in our lives. And, so, let's take the next step forward in the Bible. And it has been a custom to read a book a day. That custom is gonna end here basically. We have arrived at the 11th of the 12 minor prophets. And this book is called Zechariah and we’re gonna camp out in Zechariah for a few days. In fact, all the way up into we only have two days left in this year. So, we’re gonna settle in here for a minute and catch our breath before we end the year.

Introduction to the book of Zechariah:

What we know of Zechariah is that he and Haggai, which we…we read the entire prophecy of Haggai yesterday. Haggai and Zechariah were contemporaries. Zechariah would've been maybe a little younger. His ministry continued long after Haggai and they were actually prophets in the same place prophesying about the same thing at the same time for the same reason, which is all centered around the rebuilding of the temple. So, Zechariah’s grandpa, his name was Iddo, he's named in the Scriptures among the first leaders of the priestly families to come back from exile with Zerubbabel. So, from that we can surmise then Zechariah was probably a priest or at least from a priestly family. And the name Zechariah means “God remembers”. And it’s the remembering of the covenant and the restoration from the remembering of the covenant that is central in this book. Si, I said, Zechariah and Haghai prophesying at the same time for the same reason about the same kind of thing, but Zechariah’s way longer than Haggai. So, there's more context, more scope, more material. Like Zechariah talks about eight different night visions that he experienced that sound an awful lot like what we’re reading in Revelation. They’re apocalyptic in nature which makes them highly symbolic. And what we begin to see is that God wants the centerpiece of the Temple rebuilt to be the centerpiece of the people because He has plans for moving things forward, plans of restoration, plans of good and not harm. But the people have to collaborate, they have to respond. And what they have to respond to is essentially what God says through His prophets, “come home to me, return to me. Don’t stay in rebellion.” And we’ll see that as we read through that Zachariah also talks about the coming of a Messiah. Zechariah is one of the texts that are used in the New Testament in reference to Jesus. In fact, we find quotations from Zechariah in Matthew, Mark, John and the book of Revelation as they refer specifically to Jesus. And, so, ultimately what we receive in Zechariah is prophetic encouragement and once again reminds us that God is the most-high. There is none higher. There is no competitor to His sovereignty, not even close. And if we will remain in a covenantal relationship with God well…well then, we are going somewhere good. And, so, we begin Zechariah chapter.

Prayer:

Father we thank You for Your word. We thank You for bringing us into this week of rejoicing. We thank You for the comfort of community. And Father as we move through these days, leading right up to Christmas as we move toward the end of the Advent season, help us Holy Spirit to put ourselves in the position of…of the ancient ones, longing, waiting, expecting a Redeemer, a Savior to come. And You came and we rejoice in that, but we put ourselves in that position because…O Jesus we long for Your restoration, for Your return, for all things to be made new again. And, so, Holy Spirit some of these things are mysteries that are beyond us and some of our life is pulled in all kinds of directions during this week because of all the festivities but we want to stay rooted and grounded in deep intimacy with You almost as if it's our little secret, not that we’re keeping You a secret, but that no matter what we face, no matter what room we walk into and the conversation is going south in a hurry or no matter what situation we are pulled into whether that be envy or jealousy or pride or arrogance, no matter what we get pulled toward we want to have been walking with You, speaking with You, being led by Your spirit so that when we face those things and we see the little triggers that we usually get pulled into we can just smile, we can just smile at each other knowing that we didn't fall for the bait this time, we stayed connected in a covenantal intimacy with each other and we brought light and good news into any darkness that we face. Come Holy Spirit we pray. We can't do this without You. We need You. But we can do this with You. Come Holy Spirit in the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it’s the website, it’s where you find out what's going on around here.

And it's Christmas time and that's pretty much what is going on around here, as we…I mean…this is it…this is Christmas week friends. I can't believe it. And it is our intention to be releasing our annual Christmas party, our virtual get together from all over the world. And that's literally the truth. We have voices coming in from all over the world, and we plan to release that this evening. So, watch for that. And the other thing that’s going on right now is the Family Christmas album, just reminding you of that. You can stream it wherever you stream music. You can download it wherever you buy music. If you want a physical CD copy you can get that from the Daily Audio Bible Shop. But that is what we have created to be the backdrop, the soundtrack for Christmas around the Global Campfire. So, check that out.

And also reminding you that we released a new vocal single with Jill, my wife, singing “O Holy Night.” So, check that, you can stream that anywhere or download that anywhere as well. So, just look for Jill Parr, that’s P A R R, since that my wife’s…well…that’s her maiden name. That's what she was known as before she got herself all entangled with somebody like me. And thank God that she did or none of us would be here because I don't know how I could…I don’t know How I could just exist now without her and her support and…and her love. And, so, yeah check that out at iTunes, Google play, YouTube music, Spotify, wherever you get your music. Just look for her or “O Holy Night” and you'll find it.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well. There is a link on the homepage. And I thank you. I thank you deeply and profoundly as we near the end of the year. I appreciate all of…all of you who have clicked that link. That is why we continue to be able to throw logs on the Global Campfire and to keep moving forward day by day. So, thank you for your partnership. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address, if you prefer, is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can it the Hotline button in the app or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian. I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Father God thank You for our grandparents and our parents, those…those loved ones who are struggling in their…in their everyday life, whether that be from dementia or Alzheimer’s or something else or aches and pains, whatever it is Lord we entrust them to You. We pray that You would be soothing those aches and pains, You’d be relieving them, You’d be healing them. We pray Lord that You would remove any confusion in their life, that You’d be protecting them from harm, that You would be helping them to enjoy their everyday. Father God we thank You for those that do know and love You and we pray that they would be comforted by You and rely on You during this time and all time. But Father God for those who don’t know You, we pray that…that You would be revealing Yourself to them, that there would be those in their lives that would be able to share the gospel with them and they would be able to understand and respond, that they might know the joy of knowing You, of knowing Your son, of knowing that they are saved and knowing Your love. Father God, thank You for those who are caring for our loved ones. I pray that You’d be supporting them and encouraging them and refreshing them and replenishing them, that You’d be giving them wisdom on how best to offer care. Please be at work Lord in Jesus holy and precious name. Amen. Hi guys it’s Michaela from…

Hey DAB family its Nick just asking for prayers. It’s been a long tough season of ministry and I’m just deflated, I’m just done, and I just covet your prayers, the hugs of God’s people that just will surround me and help me, give me the strength to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward. Thank you so much for your prayers. I know that…that God will bless it.

I just wanted to say good morning to everybody and thank you for Daily Audio Bible. My family, my wife and I and my older kids have been pulled away from the Lord and we got…we got off the rails of our…our life with the Lord and we just thank you Daily Audio Bible family for being that beacon in the dark. I recently downloaded the app and became…listening to the Lord became slowly back to the line with my Christian faith and it’s helped me tremendously. I’m overwhelmed by the things going on in this world, but this beacon of light has helped me put back on the path and give me faith back in the Lord. I just want to say thank you. It’s…it’s helping me greatly. And thank you for being there and being that beacon of light for us who get lost in this world. It’s…it’s a dark world and it’s helping me build my…build my faith back up and helped me in life to pursue and to continue on searching the Lord and given me strength to help me deal with these issues in life and bring me closer to my family. And I thank you. God bless everybody.

Hi Daily Audio Bible family my name is Ben I am calling from Salem Virginia and just wanted to thank all of you guys for being a part of this. I can’t make up my mind whether it’s a holiday greeting or an encouragement or a prayer request. I got it all. You guys have it all. So, Brian thank you so much. I love this program. I just started tuning in this year, but I’ve been so ministered to by you all and this program, the prayer requests, the encouragements, moving through the Bible like we do. I’ve heard God’s spoken word on the inside of me and He has confirmed things as Brian reads and as you guys talk. It’s amazing. I…I…I love it. It is definitely a part of my daily routine and I am so thankful for each and every one of you all and I just pray that this ministry would continue and grow and that this is, you know, it’s eternal, we’re together forever. And I’m thankful and I love each and every one of you. I know that sounds silly, but I don’t know how. I love God’s word and I am…oh man my time is running out. I'm like Jonah I'm in the belly of the whale. I’m looking forward to being spit out. Not sure how much longer I have to stay and pray but I thank you all…

Hi this is Victoria Soldier just calling tonight to pray for some of DABbers who are…who are having the challenges. I'm trying to find the ladies name who her husband and her were planning on moving to be around family and you kept getting discouragement. I wanted to tell you to keep on being encouraged and keep on looking and God wants to see do we really want it and He's…just continue to pray and I continue to encourage him. I continue to encourage the lady who said her son went away to…went away to travel over overseas and his car and somebody had taken his passport. I'm praying for that young man. Lord in the name of Jesus you have your way Lord. Let him be somewhere protected. Let him be somewhere safe. O father in the name of Jesus you touch the heart of that young man. He's only 23 years old. Lord you bless him, you bless him wherever he is. You open doors even in the worst places. In the name of Jesus. I thank you Lord. I want to thank…I want to thank God for China and Ben, pray for their precious little…little…little brown and her are continuing on in the ministry and I pray for Jill and her coming and thanking her for…for the heart and for the love of God enough to come and…and just looking forward to enjoying her. I want to just say thank you to all the people and encourage those who are going through, those who are going through jobs because of this pandemic, those who are going through challenges because of this pandemic as…as Paul said when they were on the ship he said anybody who was whaled onto this ship that they would have a safe landing. And let's hold onto the ship because God is ready to bring us through out of this 2020 into…

Good morning DABber family this is Walta the Burning Bush that will not be Devoured for the Glory of Our God and Our King. I just heard Daniel Johnson Junior's call in with his praise report about the echocardiogram results from last year this time and where God has brought him close to normal. And my brother, I just want you to know that God's got you. God's got you. And thank you for sharing your life with us. Your job, your family, everything, God's got you. And I'm looking back at 2020 myself and I'm just thinking, not just 2020, the last…gosh…the last 13+ years of my life that I've spent with DAB and looking at what…what you guys have brought me through. There's some days that I would turn on DAB and I’d be so desperate to hear the word of God and so desperate for…for some sort of comfort or insight and then some other days it’s, you know, business as usual just listening to it. But you guys, my father's death, my sons drug addiction and recovery, my mother's death, you know, job losses, Ebola, now coronavirus, marital problems, divorce, marriage. God thank you for DAB. Thank you for this ministry. And I know that those of you who are listening, some of you guys in the same situation, know that we’re here for you. God is here for you. And, you know, as Daniel Johnson Junior always says, make it a great day. I love you all. God bless.

[hookedontaronfics]

Honky Dancer series - Chapter 1

NEW SERIES ALERT

Chapter title: Auditions Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: None at this time A/N: I was inspired to write a series based on the perspective of a Rocketman dancer. I hope you enjoy following a London-based dancer from her first audition run-in with Taron to maybe so much more - but don’t forget a healthy dose of drama along the way! More mature themes will develop, so be warned! Enjoy! x

“And first position … second … third … and fourth … now fifth. Good, and again.” I swept my arms gracefully through the positions my muscles knew by memory and my mind knew by heart. I’d learned the basic positions when I was no older than the girls I now taught, in their adorable pink tutus and bright shiny faces. “Keep going, that’s right,” I encouraged, walking between the barres and making adjustments while the 5-year-olds moved through each ballet position to the music I had queued.

I kept a watchful eye on these aspiring young dancers, hoping to instill in them the love of dance I had grown up with my entire life. Even when I offered corrections, I tried to do so in an encouraging manner. I’d had my share of critical teachers and even a few who thought I wouldn’t get that far. But I’d never let it bring me down and only used the negativity to push harder for what I wanted. Until, that is, a nearly career-ending injury four years ago that had kept me off the stage and behind studio doors instead. I’d made the transition to teaching on the advice of a dance counselor, and I knew I would never look back.

I ended class with some easy stretching and accepted the cute hugs and calls of “Thank you, Miss Juliette!” as my class filed out to their waiting mothers [and two fathers, bless their hearts.] Once the last girl had left I quickly packed my bag as Madison pushed her way in through the door.

“Oh my god, are you excited?” she asked me as I traded out my slippers for sneaks and pulled on a pair of comfy sweatpants and a hoodie over my leotard.

“I’m so nervous I could puke, but I won’t get an opportunity like this again. And I feel like I’m finally ready,” I grinned, making sure I had everything I needed in my bag for the audition I was already running late for. “Thank you for subbing my next class, I appreciate it, Mads,” I grinned, giving her a hug.

“It’s no sweat, now go!” she laughed, fairly pushing me out the door. “And break a leg!” she giggled as I groaned inwardly.

I rushed out of the dance school and hurried along Balderton Street to Oxford, heading toward the Bond Street tube station and taking the train across town to the Paramount studios on Chiswick. I snacked on a protein bar to keep my energy up while we rumbled over the tracks, doing a few stretches to keep my muscles loose as I wouldn’t have much time to warm up again when I got there. If anyone was staring at me, I ignored it, but I’m sure the tube riders had seen far worse than a few grand plies.

Once I arrived at the studio I hurried through the check-in process as quickly as possible. I was issued my number and told which group and studio to join before I rushed off to the bathroom to change. I’d chosen a sparkly magenta pink leotard I’d used for a performance piece years ago for this audition - I was trying out for the dance ensemble cast for Rocketman, the Elton John biopic, so even if it was a bit over-the-top I felt it was appropriate. 

I pulled on tights and a black ruffled short skirt over that and strapped on my character shoes. I let my strawberry blonde hair down out of its tightly woven bun and dashed on a bit of thick eyeliner before affixing my number with safety pins. I put on bright pink lipstick and grinned at myself in the mirror. I certainly looked the part, I thought, stashing everything else in my bag and going to find my group.

I dropped my dance bag against the wall with everyone else’s stuff and found an open spot on the floor, sitting in a deep split and doing a few stretches while everyone else either chatted excitedly or went through their own personal warmups. The buzz in the room instantly cut out as a trim stately man strode in; I instantly recognized him as the choreographer we’d be working with. Waves of excitement and nerves washed through me in equal measure as we all stood and lined up without being instructed to. Several other people came in and took seats along the wall; I presumed they were likely producers and crew of some variety.

I tried to secure myself a spot in the middle front; even if I wasn’t feeling the most confident, I could certainly fake my way into it. This was my first professional audition since I’d made company - and later principal - for London Ballet Company. All of my dance dreams had shattered after the injury that meant I couldn’t do pointe work any more, but I’d thrown myself into classes in other styles as a sort of rehab process and in an effort to diversify my skill set, and found I loved jazz and Broadway the most.

So here I was, giving my all through the brief warmup, across-the-floor exercises, and combinations, hoping to catch the choreographers’ eye. I knew I was one dancer in a field of hundreds, some coming from other countries just for this chance. But I also knew how badly I wanted a spot in the ensemble, to be a part of such a spectacle. 

My favorite combination involved a bit of a complicated leap into a fan kick; I could see other dancers struggling to get elevated but I felt so completely in my own element, soaring across the floor and losing myself to the music, which unfortunately wasn’t actually from Elton’s catalogue. We were split into smaller groups to perform the series of steps for the choreographer; at the end of it, I added my own little flourish, dropping into a very Fosse-style pose with curved shoulders and tilted hips. The choreographer brushed past me as he circled our group, muttering “very good” so only I could hear. I couldn’t help but smile, but kept my eyes low.

We were given a twenty-minute break after everyone had a chance to perform, and the choreographers from each room of dancers would be making first cuts before we would all be shuffled together and given a full routine to learn and perform on an actual stage. I dearly hoped I’d be making it through the cut, but sometimes not getting a part had nothing to do with how good a dancer you were. Directors sometimes wanted a specific “look,” and I had no idea if this would hold true for Rocketman or not.

The hallways were far too noisy for me so I stepped nimbly over dancers sprawled on the floor as I traveled away from the studio rooms, trying to find somewhere quiet to listen to my music and try to find a bit of peace. I filled my water bottle at a drinking fountain before turning a corner and leaving all the other dancers behind. I probably should have just plopped myself here, but curiosity got the better of me, so I followed down this hallway too, my character shoe footsteps echoing in the quiet even as I tried to walk softly. I plugged my headphones in and was just about to hit play on my Spotify playlist when I heard a couple of voices coming from a cracked doorway. The room had a bank of sweeping windows and I couldn’t help peering in; some day I would learn to tame my incessant curiosity, but today was not that day.

Three men stood inside, involved in what looked like a serious discussion. I couldn’t really make out much of what they were saying, their voices just low murmurs, but I thought I might have recognized one of them. Just then they all turned to head toward the door, and I ducked away from the window, hoping I hadn’t been seen. As I slowly tried to sneak away, the door swung open rather suddenly and flew straight into me, sending me sprawling onto my hands and knees, my phone skidding across the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” the handsome young man I recognized said, instantly offering his hand to help me up and looking embarrassed. I took it, noticing how soft his skin was but how strong he felt as he helped bring me back to my feet.

“It’s alright,” I said with a laugh, brushing off my knees and hands and retrieving my phone from the floor. “Nothing hurt but my pride,” I said as he looked me up and down, taking in my obvious dance garb.

“Here for the auditions, then?” he smiled warmly at me, as the other two men carried on their conversation.

“Um, yes, though I’m hoping I’ve danced with more grace than I just displayed,” I grinned good-naturedly. “Though I should get back to that now.”

“Well I wish you best of luck, Number Two-Nine-Four,” he read off my assigned number with a smirk.

“It’s Juliette,” I supplied with a laugh.

“Juliette then, you may call me Taron,” he replied, smiling so widely his dimples showed through.

“Holy shit, you’re Elton!” I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands and making the other two men halt their conversation mid-sentence as they gawked at me.

“That’s up for debate but yes, I’ll be attempting to play him,” Taron grinned at my shock. I knew now how I’d recognized him, from the Kingsman films. But standing here in front of him was an entirely different thing. He was totally unassuming, just dressed in jeans, a black sweatshirt and a ball cap with “twenty-two” scrawled across it.

“I’m sure you’ll be wonderful at it,” I laughed lightly, trying to not feel shy in front of him, but for his part he did everything to try and make me feel at ease.

“I suppose if I was shit Elton wouldn’t have chosen me,” Taron just chuckled.

“No, I don’t think so. Well, it’s very nice to bump into you but I really must get back,” I said softly.

“Wouldn’t want you to be late, love,” he said with a wink. “We’re heading to the stage now,” he added, making my insides feel rather funny all of a sudden. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Maybe,” I agreed a bit faintly, hurrying back down the hall the way I’d come, my heart pounding and unaware that Taron’s gaze lingered on my willowy frame. The hallways were already deserted and I worried I was late, but I slipped back into the studio room just in time, as we were all called to line up again. 

The choreographer was holding a notepad and after thanking everyone for coming out and giving our hardest work, told us only five numbers from our room were advancing to the stage routine. I closed my eyes at that; five out of a room of 35. There’s no way I’m getting through this cut, I thought. I was confident in my abilities but there was so much talent it was practically dripping from the walls.

“If your number is called, please come join me up here,” our choreographer said, and rattled off the first number, 162. A spry male dancer who had all the marks of “ballet” written in his physique left our ranks and joined the choreographer at the front, fairly beaming to be one of the chosen. Next up was 052, a fiery redhead with a pretty face; 291 [so close], a black muscular male with a sweet expression; and 112, a tow-headed boy who looked barely out of secondary school.

I closed my eyes and held my breath as the last number was read, even if I had no chance. “294!” the choreographer called, and no one moved a muscle. Someone next to me tapped me on the shoulder, my eyes still screwed shut tightly.

“Hey, I think that’s you!” a girl whispered as the choreographer called my number again.

“Oh,” I laughed in disbelief, walking to the front in stunned silence as the choreographer clapped for us and everyone else joined in. After more thanking of all the auditioners, the people who hadn’t made it were dismissed, and after much chatter and shuffling of bags, it was just us five left. We’d all been told on the audition notice to bring black pants and a white button-down shirt we could dance in and tap shoes, though the particular style they had left up to us, and we were now instructed to change into those clothes and join all the other dancers in another studio room in ten minutes. I decided to leave my leotard on under my shirt, only doing up three buttons so it could still flash through. I switched my character shoes out for actual taps and then dashed off a squealing text to Madison that I had made it through the first round of cuts.

<Oh my god, that’s so exciting! So what happens next?> she texted back immediately.

<Next up is learning a full 2-minute tap routine in 30 minutes and performing it on the stage as a group. I’m exceedingly nervous about this. Tap has never been my strongest suit.>

<But you’ve been taking hours and hours of classes! I’m sure you’ll do great> she sent back with about ten winky-face emojis. I had to laugh at that.

<Gotta go, I’ll let you know if I make it through to solos.> I stashed my phone in my bag again and made it to the large studio room in time, lost in a sea of other black-and-white clad dancers, all of us trying to individualize in some way, with bright lipsticks or colored socks or patterned scarves tied round our heads. We were all handed cheaply made top hats and shown where to stand. The dancers from each room seemed to band together, so I was in line with the other four from my room, trying to give them encouraging smiles.

“We’ve got this,” I said under my breath to the tow-headed boy next to me, who looked incredibly nervous though he was probably one of the best talents in the room, even so young. He nodded at me and smiled kindly in appreciation, so I gave him a goofy thumbs up before the choreographers addressed our room. 

There were about 60 of us, and I strained to hear what was being said over the coughs and rustles as dancers adjusted their clothes. Still, I got the gist of it and then we were hard at work, learning pieces of the routine, repeating each small snippet over and over and then quickly breezing through the next. It felt like a blur, but I did what I knew to do best in these situations; I linked each piece of choreo to an image in my brain to keep the sequence in order, building on it as we moved through the 2 minutes of routine the way a child might play a game of memory.

We were all sweaty and out of breath when our thirty minutes were up, and soon we were herded to the stage to perform the piece all on our own, as the choreographers and producers and maybe even the director for all I knew sat in the audience. Oh, and Taron, I reminded myself, trying not to let that make me suddenly nervous. The last thing I needed to do was forget the choreography. We stood on the stage under lights, staring out into the darkened auditorium. If I squinted hard enough I could make out the shapes of people in the seats but had no idea who they were. I wondered if Taron was out there looking for me, and the thought of it made me smile.

The strains of music began and soon we were lost in the whirlwind of the dance, performing the piece like we’d been rehearsing for months. It was nice to feel like I could rely on the dancers around me as much as they could rely on me. Sure, we were all competing against each other for those coveted spots, but we were also performers at heart. And so, for those two minutes, we leaped and we spun and we tapped and we shone.

When the music was over we all stood around on the stage together, whispering and waiting as the shadows in the audience deliberated our fates. I didn’t think I had missed a step, and I looked forward to giving my solo, a piece I had worked hard on and that had made Mads cry when I performed it for her. Still, twenty people wouldn’t be making it through this round and that made me even more anxious than I already was.

After about ten minutes someone called for order, and we quieted down immediately. Numbers were called quickly, dancers cheered or groaned, and I was thankfully called up somewhere in the middle of the pack this time. My relief was probably evident. We were given about twenty minutes to prepare whatever we needed to; I chose that time to eat another protein bar and chill out to some music. I had a simple costume for this piece, wanting my dancing to be center stage. I kept the black pants but exchanged the leotard and shirt for a black dance bra and black vest. I slicked back my hair into a sleek ponytail and pulled a hat low over my eyes. I wiped off the pink lipstick and left my lips neutral, but painted my eyelids black. It was a dramatic effect and exactly what I was going for.

We had to pick numbers and of course I chose the last slot, so I had a lot of time to wait around. We all were told we could sit in the auditorium seats if we wished to watch each other at this point, and I sat with my new-found “friends” from my original group, all of who had made it through the tap round. There was Pietre, the soft-spoken young boy; Dennis, the athletic black dancer; Leah the precocious redhead; and Markus, the handsome ex-principal. Markus was quite funny, and I enjoyed sitting next to him as we watched other dancers perform.

Slowly, our ranks got smaller and smaller as each dancer went onstage to perform and was subsequently dismissed. We wouldn’t be told if we had gotten the job until the next day, so this was our last real shot to make an impression. I wished Pietre, Dennis, Leah and Markus all good luck, and their solos were all amazing. It was going to be a tall order for the choreographers to make their decisions, whittling us down to just 30 core dancers.

And then it was my turn. There was no one else left to watch except the people judging me. But as I made my way up the stage stairs, I noticed someone standing in the wings, and realized it was Taron, waving at me and giving me a thumbs up. Had he really stuck around this long to watch me? I was a little dumbstruck at that and ended up stumbling over my own name when I was asked to introduce myself, even though they had my audition sheet in front of them. Get a grip, I chastised myself, stealing another glance at the wings. Despite the low light I could see Taron’s eyes glittering at me and I could feel his eyes following me as I took my place on the stage. I took a few slow breaths to still my mind, needing to go to that place where I was beyond my thoughts, where it was nothing but light and color and music.

I’d chosen Annie Lennox’s “Cold,” a song that was dreamy and ethereal and yet somehow heavy. Lines like “Dying is easy/It's living that scares me to death” and “But the more I want you the less I get/Ain't that just the way things are” hit me in the chest and had stayed with me ever since I heard the song, but when “Catch me and let me dive under/For I want to swim in the pools of your eyes” the image of Taron flashed through my mind, and the words gained a new meaning as I couldn’t let go of the way he looked at me.

When the song ended and I had struck my final pose, the auditorium was dead silent; I could have heard a pin drop aside from my own heart beating. I stood back up and took a small bow, turning to leave because I didn’t think anyone was going to say anything before suddenly someone in the auditorium was clapping, the sound hollow in that giant space. I glanced over at the wing, but Taron wasn’t standing there anymore and for some reason that made me feel empty.

“Thank you for your time, that was lovely. We’ll phone you tomorrow,” one of the faceless shapes from the auditorium told me. I gave them my most winning smile and then was dismissed. I was sweaty, sore and exhausted by the time I gathered my bag up, changing once again into sweats and ready to just head home and tuck into a bowl of homemade Thai peanut chicken curry. I’d done my best and the rest was up to someone else. I had my hand on the exit door when someone called my name. I turned to see Taron jogging toward me, a bit out of breath.

“You were brilliant. They all said it in there, you should have heard them after you left,” he grinned. “You left us all absolutely speechless.”

“I, uhm, thank you,” I replied awkwardly, trying to wrap my mind around what he was telling me.

“You’re absolutely a shoe-in, no question, but you didn’t hear it from me,” he said, winking at me for the second time that day. I let out a nervous laugh at that. “I look forward to working with you, Juliette,” he added, and I couldn’t help my legs feeling a little weak at the way he said my name. I was glad I was still holding onto the door handle to steady myself. On second thought, this might be a major problem, I thought, but he was an actor and I was just a dancer and I didn’t think we’d be spending that much time on set together. Besides that, Taron was on a whole other level from me, so I figured he was only being kind.

“Me too,” I finally managed to reply. He bid me have a good night and then disappeared off down the hall, to do what I didn’t know but he seemed intensely focused on every aspect of this project. He had certainly left an impression on me though, and I could feel my cheeks were flushed.

I finally made my way to the tube station, taking it across the city to my flat and letting myself in gratefully, instantly greeted by my fluffy 2-year-old golden retriever Troy. “Hey boy, mommy’s home,” I grinned, ruffling his fur happily. Madison had stopped in earlier to check on him and let him out, and I was forever grateful to her. Mads had been my biggest cheerleader and supporter since I started working at DanceWorks, and I had never met a sweeter, kinder soul.

<Finally home. We’ll know results tomorrow. Everything seemed to go really well for me> I texted her as I tossed my sweaty dance clothes in the wash.

<Think you’ve got the job?> she asked back.

<Not sure, these things are never certain even if you feel good about it but I did my best and something tells me I impressed the choreographers> I wrote back. Or rather someone, I thought, a small smile drawing across my face.

I set about making dinner, feeling half-starved now, and did my best to relax in front of the television, catching up with my favorite shows. I took Troy on a quick walk around the neighborhood in the late evening before finally taking a long soak in the freestanding bathing tub I’d invested good money in. There was nothing better after a long day of dance then letting my muscles unwind with lavender Epsom salts.

Tired and fully worn out, I stretched out in my bed, ready to catch some shut-eye but of course every time I closed my eyes I could see Taron’s handsome face floating in the dark. I wasn’t about to delude myself into thinking I had half a chance with Taron. From all accounts he was just an absolutely caring and sympathetic man and his co-workers always spoke so highly of working with him. But I could definitely say there was now more than one reason why I wanted the chance to dance on Rocketman. 

Keep reading: Chapter 2 HERE

[dreamgloe]

808s & heartbreak | chapter one

as newly minted staff producer at bighit, you are lucky for the opportunity but even luckier when you catch the artistic (and otherwise) attention of one of its most formidable artists. however, a past you’ve condemned to remain as such has threatened to drag you back out to sea.

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: idolverse warnings: angst, some fluff, possible adult content in future chapters words:  10,760 author’s note: remember, side a is fic feels, side b is songs mentioned or song inspiration. this was a long time coming and eventually i’ll put a link out to a full spotify playlist. would love feedback, thoughts, asks, etc. i’m really soft for (1) min yoongi. thank u for coming to my fic and my ted talk.

SIDE A: Dreamer by Axwell /\ Ingrosso | Give Yourself A Try by The 1975 | Do My Thang by Miley Cyrus | Dance To This by Troye Sivan ft. Ariana Grande | DNA by Kendrick Lamar | Star by Bazzi  SIDE B: Anti- by Jvcki Wai | Gossip Folks (ft. Ludacris) by Missy Elliott | Ay (ft. Silly Boot) by Hash Swan | Tear by BTS | Outro: Do You Think It Makes Sense? | Supernova by HTHAZE

It was an honest mistake.

That’s what they said anyway. But it wasn't really that honest. 

After you had submitted all of your materials, you found the detail that probably should have stopped you from submitting. ‘Male. Born 1998 and after.’ Some could claim that you saw it, didn’t care, and submitted anyways. But you submitted under the songwriting category and your singing of the song wasn’t a red flag at all. Could have been your sister, a friend, anyone.

But it was you.

And when you showed up to your second round audition with nothing but a microphone, your looper, and a cascade of messy hair under a beanie--your best one you would say, you weren’t an animal--you were looked at in confusion. Everyone was too shocked to say anything as you quickly got into your song, clearly intrigued with your set up. Laying down a few quick vocal beats and harmonies over one another, you launched into the lyrics. Music was usually the one thing that didn’t provoke a stream of anxiety and apprehension.

It wasn’t hard for you to get taken away by your own music. It was only a verse and a hook but you made it feel like it lasted forever. At least, it had felt like that long to you.

‘Magical mystery nights, fairy lights. You looked at me like I was one of the sights. I always think of your soju-breath that night, And how you said our love was worth the fight.’

It was easy to pour the emotion into the song as you sang, even though you’d rather die than consider yourself a performer. Singing one of your more intimate, personal original songs was always a risk but hopefully it was one that would pay off. The moment made you think of a quote your sister would often recite to you, one by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich.

“Well-behaved women rarely make history.”

You always took that quote to mean in a male dominated industry, playing it safe would never get you noticed. This moment in time could either change your life or set you back a few steps. When you finished, you used your toe to turn down the sound and turn off the looper. You couldn’t hear anything but your own breath among the silence. You were sure they would dismiss you because you were a girl and not a boy. It was a blessing and a curse that your parents gave you a unisex name.

An older man with glasses sat at the table next to a younger woman probably in her late thirties. They looked at you in silence while glancing down at the papers in front of them.

“Y/L/N Y/F/N,” the man says with a chuckle, peering over his glasses at page, presumably with your submitted information on it.

He said something into the woman next to him’s ear and she nodded before taking a few notes in her own notebook. You couldn’t hear what they said but you know what was coming. You held the microphone that connected to your looper tightly in your hand.

You took the risk...but it wasn’t paying off.

“I take it that it was you singing on your first audition tape, then?” he asked. You looked for a sign that didn’t lead to disappointment but you couldn’t read his face. You knew exactly what he was digging for.

“Yes, it was,” you said simply and honestly. You could feel yourself pressing the balls of your feet into the wooden floor below you. Another rejection under your belt, you could feel it coming. You’d auditioned for one or two other small companies, ones that were geared more towards hip hop but they went in other directions. BigHit was the only other company you really wanted to work with. You could feel your eyes prickle at the nervous anticipation buzzing through you right now

“You know the audition notice said we were looking for males, right?” he asked, the woman next to him interlocking her fingers in front of her on the table. Your hand started to sweat around the microphone while your your free hand reached up to untangle a knot at the ends of your long hair.

“I did...after it was too late,” you said, laughing at yourself, trying to smooth over the situation, “I’m obviously not very good at reading directions.” It was true. The moment you pressed send, you then realized they were only looking for males. They were obviously looking for more guys for whatever group they were trying to put together. You’d heard they were holding additional auditions just in case, even though they already had a lineup they were working with. You were in fact not male and you were born in 1996, two years old than what they were looking for. You couldn’t stand the silence from both of them, so you continued against your mind’s better judgment. “I didn’t expect to even hear back,” you said, “So when I did...I thought, why not?”

“Hmmm,” was all the man said. It was the woman’s turn to whisper something to the older man. He sighed and shuffled all his papers together.

“Despite the minor deceit, it’s obviously that you are talented. We’d love to have you meet with some of our producers and if that goes well, possibly the talent we think you’d be a great fit working with,” he said. You didn’t know if you heard had correctly but when the woman smiled at you, your stomached settled slightly and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you. Thank you so much!” you say, bowing to both the man and woman.

“We will email you to set up a meeting with part of our producer team. It was really refreshing to see a talented young woman such as yourself come in,” the woman said, speaking for the first time. You couldn’t help but smile back at her. There was something in the woman’s eye that you could grasp. Pride? A common acknowledgment between women in the music industry?

You hoped it was all the above.

Your meeting with the producing team happened two weeks later. It was at 4pm on a Tuesday and you had loaded up as USB drive, your iPad, your laptop with everything you could think of bringing. You overprepared, putting all of your devices into your bulky, plain backpack. You had the ugly thing since high school and couldn’t bear to part with it. It probably had a few cough drops at the bottom from your last year of high school, maybe a granola bar hidden one of the million of pockets. But that was fine because you had everything you needed. Hopefully you’d be able to provide that to the people you’d be meeting with.

Before leaving your apartment, you looked in the mirror. You wore a royal blue sweatshirt, dark black jeans, some sleek boots with cutouts on the side. With your signature beanie--the one you wore to your audition--you knew that this was as good as you were going to get. You weren’t very girly and sometimes, you felt self-conscious about it. But you felt at your most comfortable and at ease when you were in jeans and a crew neck sweatshirt. You felt cozy and you could feel your anxiety quickly slipping away. But you hated to admit that you didn’t even own a dress. You thought to yourself, though, because wasn’t like you were going to wear one or a suit of any kind to this meeting. You were meeting with music producers, for God’s sake. You still wanted to impress, though. This could be your chance to work with one of the most buzzed about music companies in the country, one that you actually admired.

And you were lucky when they didn’t kick you out at the audition for not reading directions.

You easily arrived at the Big Hit offices. When you checked in, you were given a water bottle and asked to wait. Two minutes past four, you were ushered into a conference room with six people already sitting at a sleek, modern conference table. Everyone at the table got up to shake your hand and you reciprocated, bowing in respect as you did so. After taking a seat, the woman who was in your audition came in, shut the door, and sat at the head of the table. Everyone quickly settled in for the meeting.

“Everyone, this is Y/L/N Y/F/N, the one we found through the open audition,” the woman said, smiling. A bit of excitement shifted through the group. You smiled at the group, gripping the hem of your sweatshirt tightly, needing something to hold on to in order to not just internally combust.

“Oh she’s the one that couldn’t read the audition notice?” one of the producers asks. He looks nice enough, wears glasses, and looks like he hasn’t ever worn a suit in his entire life. You try not to look embarrassed but it’s hard not to when a handful of the other producers laugh.

“Yes, she is.” the woman says, “but it’s hard to ignore talent. I know some of you have seen the tape but we’ll play it again as a quick refresher.” You wait until the lights go out and the video is pulled up to hide your face in your fingers. You hated watching yourself on tape and listening to your singing voice. The tape started up, showing you almost tripping over the cord of your looper mic.  

You heard the lyrics come through the conference room speakers and you wanted to disappear. Seeing other people react to a video of you projected onto a big screen, singing a rather personal song, made your stomach clench and the breath catch in your throat. You’d hoped that someone would whisper or talk to the person next to them while the video was playing to ease the tension in your head and in your heart but everyone remained silent until the lights came back up.

“Wow,” said a voice. You saw a woman, probably the only other female producer at Big Hit. The one who went by ADORA. She definitely had been one of your inspirations to audition. The only female staff producer at Big Hit.

All  the producers were starting to talk amongst one another, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of sweat appearing. You looked from the female executive from your audition to the rest of the group, letting your eyes wander around the room, too embarrassed to keep your vision in one place. Why were you like this? Couldn’t even confidently take a compliment.

“I’m glad that you all could meet with Y/N today. I wanted to get everyone together to get to know her. I also asked her to bring some of her other work. I know we are about to gear up on some big projects and I thought she might be a good addition to the production team,” she continued.

A tall man sitting towards the middle raised his hand to speak, “Why don’t you play some of your work. Maybe the full length version from your audition song and maybe one of your favorites?”

“Sure,” you said, trying not to fumble with the backpack between your legs. You push yourself out to get into the bag. You grabbed your laptop, trying not to make a bunch of noise while doing so but failing, and pulled up the full length file of your audition song. Testing the volume, it’s definitely loud enough for all the producers in the room to hear it. With a quick breath, you press play. While your looper played a part in the recording, there are other instruments--guitar and piano specifically--and all the producers at the table quiet to listen.

It’s the longest two and a half minutes of your life as they listen. Your fingers drum against your thighs as the song soars to it’s climax, your nails digging a bit into them as well, palms sweaty. This song is is raw for you but that’s something you don’t want to let on.

It ends and everyone sounds and looks pleased as you look around.

It was then that you realized there was someone sitting in an armchair on the far side of the room. Arms folded over one another, bucket hat low over their eyes. But your attention is pulled away when someone else at the table speaks up.

The producer eagerly says, “What else do you have?”

You quickly sift through your media player list before stopping on a song titled “It Carries.” Your heart stops for a moment. This song is one of your favorites but it also is a painful reminder. Not just about a past you’d like to forget but a humiliation that your best friend Seoyun would tell you was not your fault. You didn’t realize that you just sat there quietly for a beat too long.

“Y/N?” the lady executive asks.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, shaking it off, “Was stuck between two…Hm, this one is called ‘It Carries.’ I actually wrote it for...an old friend. He’s the one rapping, but I wrote everything.”

Throwing your nerves into the wind, you press play, letting the 808-filled beat fill the conference room. Again the room goes silent, that that makes you nervous. Beginning vocals finish and the rap begins, you notice the person in the back of the room lean forward, elbows on their knees. It doesn’t help that you can’t see their face. They’re probably another one of the producers.

The party that wrenches your heart the most comes up and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You take a deep breath but it’s shakier than you were planning on it to be.

‘But you say “it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine Words aren’t always necessary” My heart squeezes in love and in thanks And I don’t feel as broken as before’

As it finishes, you let out a breath you didn’t realize that you were holding. There is some applause but you aren’t really paying attention. The tall producer raises his hand to quiet everyone again. “That was really amazing. You wrote those raps?” he asked.

“Yes... I wrote them,” you said, which was all you could manage. Your nerves were still bubbling.

“The flow is amazing. The rapping is good but the lyrics…” he trailed off.

“The rapper had an exceptional songwriter to help him out,” said a deep, slightly scratchy voice. It came from the person in the back, the one whose face you couldn’t see in the dimmed light of the conference room. You looked as closely from where you sat and when he raised his head, you tried not outwardly gasp.

Your complimenter was none other than Min Yoongi, Suga of BTS, one of the most well-known and spoken-about young producers in the industry. But...why was he sulking in the back of a preliminary producer meeting? Didn’t he have songs to write, press to do, anything else but sit in on your meeting? Why in the heck was he here? And he listened to some rather personal songs of yours too. Your face had never felt so hot.

“You’re absolutely right,” the female executive said, making no comment as to why the idol was sitting in the back of this meeting.

The tall producer came back around. “You’ve got an interesting point of view and I’d love to see what you can do. I work with BTS but am also overseeing the new boy group who are working towards their debut.”

You perked up a bit, your attention finally at least partly restored after having been trying really hard not to start at the international superstar just sulking in the corner of the room.

“Really?” you asked, a smile forming on your lips, your eyes moving to bulge just slightly out of your head. Was this all really happening?

“Really,” he said, smiling, “You won’t be exclusive to any team but I think you’d be a great use to many of the projects currently in the words at BigHit.” Everyone looked to be in agreement but your eyes couldn’t help but go back to Min Yoongi in the back. His arms still crossed, he didn’t have much of a reaction...despite what he said to you earlier; to be more specific, what he said about you.

The meeting started to die down and everyone was getting out of their chairs and talking. You took a sip out of your water bottle as two of the younger producers--whose names you recognized from the long list of BTS credits--included you into conversation, asking you about your influences. The rest of the time was spent talking to the two of them, as well as the other producers.

They both gave you their numbers as they mentioned they’d also be working on most of the current projects in production and that you’d be spending a lot of time together so getting to know one another would be beneficial. You wholeheartedly agreed and found them easy to talk to, quickly relaxing into the conversation. Getting to know them was like some sort of...weird reality.

You felt as if you might have to pinch yourself any second.

You were talking to one of the younger producers when they beckoned someone over. You looked over your shoulder to see Suga of BTS--Min Yoongi, if you were to be more correct in this situation--holding a soda can between his fingers. You hadn’t seen him talk to anyone until now besides the female executive from earlier.

“Hey, hyung,” one of the guys said to him, “Ready to go back to the studio?”

He turned his gaze from his drink to the producer and you could finally really see his face, even if it was still partly hidden under his hat. The first thing that definitely struck you was his eyes. Dark and intense, not that you didn’t already know that. You’d seen pictures of him, seen his performances at all the music award and variety shows. But cameras and televisions rarely captured the true reality. They were truly stunning.

It was then. It was then that it really hit you that Min Yoongi was standing a mere four feet away from you. He was perhaps one of the biggest inspirations for auditioning for Big Hit in the first place. You never really considered yourself ARMY but you respected the group and their interest in being involved in the creation of their work. Especially the rap line as they also were considered the main contributors. You admired what they and BigHit doing, what they stood for.

And you had a feeling that you were going to get to be part of it.

You tried not to visibly vibrate with excitement right in front of him. Why would you be calm and collected around him? You’d never met any idols or famous actors, singers, etc. in your entire life. It was jarring to realize that he was just hanging out in the back of the conference room while you showed some of your personal work with the producing team. You rarely shared your music with your family, let alone your friends. Seoyun, was the only one who could pry the work out of you...but usually under force or threat.

But she of all people knew what these two songs meant to you. And having a famous idol hear your work before you even knew he was in the room...it scattered your brain just a bit. You still kind of felt like an idiot, though.

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi said in a low and tired-sounding timbre.

Part of you was curious as to what they are working on and part of you kind of wanted to ask if you can tag along. But the realist side of you laughed at the idea. You haven’t been in the building more than two hours and you were already itching to know more, do more, see more. But you keep quiet because you knew it was just your excitement. Nothing like this had ever happened in your life and you’re still not even sure if it’s even real. You could wake up at any moment. It’s a dream, right?, you keep asking yourself.

It’s not. It’s the start of the rest of your life.

“Cool,” the other producer said, shoving their hands into their pockets. The water bottled crinkled a little in your hands. “It was really great meeting you, Y/N. Work calls but we’ll see you soon, yeah? I think the plan is to get into get things set up in the next week,” he continued.

“Sounds great,” you replied genuinely. The two producers turned towards Yoongi and the three of them started to leave but before they could make head way out of the conference room, the man in question turned back towards you with a hand raised in a non-moving wave.

“See you around,” he said.

“You too,” you managed to respond, returning the small wave but dropping that hand to wrap around your other wrist in front of you. You couldn’t help the smile that appeared on your face. Your first two words to Min Yoongi. They could have been worse...or more embarrassing.

Seriously, you needed someone to slap you back to reality.

He turned around and left with the two producers. One was Shin Donghyuk--also known as Surpeme Boi--and the other was Kim Yunseo, a newer addition to the BigHit team, but you had been familiar with some of his independent work before he joined. They were going to be heavily involved in the work for the upcoming projects, both BTS’ comeback and the new boy group debut.

Tossing your finished water bottle in the appropriate bin, the female executive who rooted for you, Lee Hayoon, approached you. She had a stern yet friendly smile as she came towards you, with the producer known as ADORA in tow.

“I hope you are enjoying yourself. I see you you already met Donghyuk-ssi and Yunseo-ssi. That’s great because you’ll be working with them a lot,” she said, “We considered hiring a new slew of producers for the new group but Donghyuk insisted on working both albums. Yunseo is, after you, the newest producer. Glad to have you on the team, Y/N.”

The woman you knew to be known as ADORA smiled. “My name is Moon Eun-hye,” she said, making a small bow, “It’s so nice to have another woman on the team finally. Your work is stunning for how young you are.” You beam just a bit as you really respect her work as ADORA.

“Thank you so much. I really admired your work on the last album,” you said returning the bow, trying not to gush. Eun-hye seemed so low-key and dresses casually, much like how you usually dress. What you were currently wearing was you dressing up to impress. This girl made sweats and a ripped t-shirt look cool.

“Aw, thanks,” she said, “Seriously...I can’t wait to work with you. Us girls definitely have to stick together.” She gave you her number and the three of you talked about what was next. Hayoon said that you’d be looped in with the studio/recording coordinator to get updated on the current schedule. They’d be doing a few team dinners for the various projects that were coming up, coinciding with whatever you got placed on. Whether it was primarily the BTS comeback or the boy group debut. Hayoon assured that you’d have time to learn about the group once and if you started working with them, if that was the decision that would go first.

The get together finally died down and you said your goodbyes, only a few hours later getting various calendar invites. You’d be officially signing your contract the next time you came to BigHit. You were having your brother-in-law--a lawyer--look it over before you signed.

Those technicalities and small things were the last things on your mind. You were making your dreams come true and you were doing it on your own.

You also couldn’t wait to tell the people who loved and supported you the most.

An important event was coming up so the dance, studio, and overall rehearsal schedule was in full swing. Not only did the guys have to share a company with a new group, the company was flocking with new people and faces due to obvious and needed expansion. While they all thought that they knew everyone, there was always someone new popping out from the woodwork.

“Hey, hyung,” Jimin shouted over towards Namjoon while sitting on the floor stretching, “Did you hear about the new producer they just hired?” Both Jimin and Jungkook were fanned out on the floor, getting ready for a dance practice. Hoseok was already in front of the mirror, lightly going through the steps as usual.

“I did,” Namjoon said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t know anything other than that the producer is a girl.”

Jimin and Jungkook both looked at one another. Eun-hye-noona was the only other female producer so this was an interesting development. You’d be the second female staff producer so of course you were of interest. The way you got hired, too, was definitely something that triggered a lot of attention as well.

“What’s going on?” Taehyung asked as he walked over and sat down to join the rest of the youngers.

“The new producer they just hired is a girl,” Jungkook said excitedly. The four of them were talking amongst themselves while Hoseok was still working in front of the mirror, Jin was sitting on a rolling chair playing a game on his phone and Yoongi was getting some water. Shaken from his thoughts, he heard Jimin over his shoulder.

“Yoongi-hyung, do you know anything about the new girl producer?” Jimin asked, Jungkook and Taehyung hanging onto the question.

“She’s good,” he said casually, turning back to his water bottle. Exclamations erupted.

“You heard her work????” Taehyung asked, breaking the commotion.

Yoongi put the bottle down, turned around, and walked over to the four guys. They were all awash with excitement and moved in towards him as well.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asked. Jimin followed, leaning his hands and arms over Jungkook’s shoulder in expectation.

“I was at the studio and Hayoon-noona asked me to sit in on a meeting,” Yoongi said, crossing his arms, looking up at towards the brim of the baseball cap on his head.

“So, she’s actually good?” Namjoon asked, looking Yoongi over in question, “I’m surprised they even met with her a second time after all that confusion.”

Yoongi whipped out his phone, deciding to pull up the song he asked Hayoon to send over to him. “She brought a looper in with her for her audition. You can’t really ignore that. It’s creative”

Namjoon’s eyes widened. “Wow, that’s actually really cool,” he said, watching Yoongi pull up the song. Namjoon called out for Jin and Hobi to come over.

“I asked Hayoon-noona to send me the song she played for us in the meeting,” Yoongi added, moving to press play.

“What is this-” Jin said before Jimin cut him off with a ‘Shhhh’

A hip hop tone with a bit of electronic and tropical flowed through the horrible iPhone speakers, filling the studio. Hobi and Jungkook immediately started moving their head and shoulders while the others listened intently.

It was the “It Carries” song that you had played the group in your meeting.

The vocals and rap line move seamlessly on top of the melody and production. Namjoon’s chin sits in his hands as he moves it along, deep in though. Yoongi doesn’t move or sway but he’s super intent on listening to the song, something he done a number of times since asking Hayoon-noona to send it to him.

“Who’s rapping?” Jimin asks. By this time, he’s moving his fingers to the beat.

“Don’t know,” Yoongi said, “He’s okay, I guess, but what’s more interesting is that she wrote all the rap and lyrics in addition to producing the song.” Namjoon and Hoseok were intrigued. “She’s only a year older than Kookie,” he said as the song came to its end. Everyone was surprised by that. Once again, they all erupted into conversation.

“Take notes, Kookie,” he said, pocketing his phone and looking pointedly at the maknae, “If you want to continue producing music…”

“Don’t come for me, Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook said defiantly. The others laughed at the exchange. “Regardless....you seem to know a lot about her,” Jungkook teases. The others join in and it takes Yoongi what’s left of his energy to not say something back.

After practice ended, he ended up spending the majority of the night at the studio after Hoseok and Yunseo left. The three of them were working on a song but Yoongi wanted to to stay behind after they left.

He had been working on some tweaks for a collaboration with a huge western artist but all of a sudden, a thought came to him. A rush of inspiration had led him to his piano and he laid down a melody line. It was one of the first things he was truly proud of and something that wasn’t spurred by necessity. It was something just for him in that moment, something that brought a wide smile to his face as he reached for the soggy iced Americano on his desk.

Maybe it would be something he’d save for the next mixtape. Maybe...just maybe he wouldn’t have to wait that long.

Your family was so proud.

They had been apprehensive of you pursuing music because of the question of stability but in the end, they just wanted you to be happy. You went to university to please them, but majored in music production. They felt more secure in that choice. Sound engineers were always in demand, at least. That’s how they thought anyway. You couldn’t blame them and you did want to make them proud. But there were moments when you were sure that you knew yourself. You knew that you could never do a job that you weren’t passionate about.

You’d always been sensitive and pursuing medicine or an office job...you had a feeling ity would essentially destroy you.

You had lovely friends in university, most of whom you are still close to, but well into your second year, you met and started dating another music production major. Even thinking or saying his name was still painful, though. It had been months since you broke up and you’d begun to heal. Your heart was finally mending and your friends and music were your saving graces. You don’t know where you would be without Seoyun’s pushy behavior or your sister’s quote-laden pep talks over skype or the cave that was your music studio set up in your small studio apartment. The tail end of your relationship had caused a lot of rifts in your heart and life. While you didn’t rearrange your whole life, there were a lot of things you changed after your break up.

After appearing on a famous reality rap show and making it to the end...the funny, charming, aspiring rapper you called your boyfriend and best friend dumped you over text message.

You had relied on your family and friends a lot in the past several months. So seeing you happy about something again made them happy. You really hated being a burden to your friends and family. The idea that they worried so much about you did a number on your anxiety. All you wanted was for your parents and friends to be proud of the artist and person you were. Working for one of the most talked-about music companies in the industry was only something you’d dreamed about. Music had been your life since you were little, ever since you had begged for piano and guitar lessons. Practicing piano for hours a day was a hassle to most of your friends but to you, those lessons were the best part of your week. Guitar quickly became a second love, too.

Before this opportunity, you had seriously considered moving back with your parents, the small cafe job you had up until now barely even helping you make rent. But you knew that you’d soon be getting a paycheck from one of the most profitable companies in music. You deleted that email draft to your landlord, stating that you’d be leaving at the end of your lease.

Things were looking up in more ways than one.

In celebration, your best friend in the world, Park Seoyun, had convinced you to go out the Saturday before your first day officially at BigHit.

She was a social butterfly and had a lot of cool and influential friends. Sometimes you weren’t sure whiy she still kept you around but she did. While she was also the fun friend, she was also the mom friend. Always nagging you and making sure you were taking care of yourself, not just while you were both in university. She actually worked at one of the big companies in a coordinator position and she knew where anyone who was anything would be. Dominoing into tonight, she knew someone who could get the two of you through the VIP entrance to one of the hottest clubs in Seoul.

Clubs were never one of your things but once in a while, letting loose didn’t sound like a horrible idea. However, she’d dressed you up. You weren’t a super fashionable person. You liked a more athletic look in contrast to Seoyun’s sexy, feminine fashion sense. In your signature black, she squeezed you into a short turtleneck bodycon dress and some of her more stable, platformed boots. Heels had always been your enemy and you threw anything that had a stiletto back her way. She had to concede.

As she promised, getting in was a breeze. You were able to slink right in, of course pissing off all the people in the line that wrapped around the block. You couldn’t help but smile a little as the two of you tripped over your own feet into the club.

Your friend insisted on taking a photo before entering the VIP section, where cameras were not allowed. You did your classic peace sign near your face in front of the neon light display. You assesed yourself in a mirror nearby. You looked cute, you guessed. Cute was the most you could muster. Sexy? Don’t even try, you’d tell yourself. Seoyun had a claim on that territory already. But you were fine with being cute. Sexy wasn’t something you actively tried to achieve. After touching up, you two made your way over to the VIP section. Seoyun made flirty small talk with the bouncer and the two of you were in there in seconds.

Yeah, there were definitely celebrities littering the area. Seoyun even walked right up to some actor that you recognized but couldn’t name….and they knew one another. You weren’t surprised as you took the hand the tall, handsome actor offered when greeting you. “Y/L/N, Y/N?”

“Uh, hi. How did you know my name?” you asked., honestly a little incredulous.

“Honestly Y/N, he went to school with us,” she said. Your eyes widened because you didn’t remember him. “It’s fine, you didn’t go out a lot. You may not know him.”

You rolled your eyes at her and apologized to him but you still smile a little because it was true. You had been too busy with your music and...your boyfriend. Maybe if you took your social life a little more seriously while in university, you’d have been friends with the actor too. Seoyun was your first year roommate and despite the two of you being soul twins, you both really were so different. Jisoo had been kind enough to get the three of you drinks so for a moment, he disappeared.

Seoyun stiffened and it caught you off-guard. What was she looking at? “Don’t look over your right shoulder are your new neighbors,” You scrunch your nose in confusion but quickly look, trying to mask it as a scratch.

“I said don’t look!” your friend screamed through her teeth and you quickly whip your head back in her direction in response to her order.

“Calm down,” you said, “Who’s there?” You were surprised any of them were there. They were notoriously absent from the party scene. At least, that’s what Seoyun said. Then again, so were you. At least you had that in common.

“Them. I think all of them,” she said but not sounding so sure, just as the actor--Lee Jisoo, whose name you just remembered--came back with three drinks. You definitely did see that drama with him in it. You had definitely watched the whole thing, too. He smiled at both of you as you clink your glasses together.

“Who’s here?” Jisoo asks after taking a sip. You suddenly feel awkward but Seoyun is quick to gab.

“BTS,” she said. Jisoo looked over and nodded with a thoughtful pout.

“I rarely see them out. Surprised, staff is loosening the reins,” he said. However, it didn’t look like they were being bothered by anyone. It was probably nice for them, you thought, that the could go out and blow off some steam without being harassed once in while.

“It just so happens that Y/N here is getting signed to BigHit,” she says after taking a large gulp of her drink. You gave her a look. Your contract wasn’t even signed yet and you didn’t want anything risking it but you let it go because on the other hand, your socially connected best friend was proud as hell of you.

“I’ll be working on various projects as a producer,” you say, keeping it that, just in case. You didn’t want anything to harm the signing of your contract. But you were proud. You were very excited. Jisoo congratulated you, said that he knew a few of the boys, and then laughed at something else Seoyun said. Sometimes you were jealous of her since she had such an easy way with people. You were the opposite most of the time. You were really shy until you eased yourself into the situation and got more comfortable. You had never been the type to just go up to people you didn’t know but you adapted quickly once you slotted in and often fed off the energy of others.  

Continuing to talk, the three of you had managed to shift your standing positions so that the group was now at the edge of your peripheral. You didn’t want to go over and disturb them. Besides, you had only ever been introduced to Yoongi and that was only for a millisecond. You couldn’t even see Yoongi at the moment but what if he was there and he saw you and you saw him and he thought it was rude that you didn’t come over? You were used to overthinking things so you were hoping that even the smallest of sips would help ease the anxiety settling into the pit of your stomach like squishy rocks.

Why were you like this? Ugh.

You continued to flit in and out of the conversation with Seoyun and Jisoo and the feeling of them within your peripheral. Something unexpected happened instead. Two of members approached the three of you. Mid-sip you tried not to choke on the large gulp you just took.

“It’s Y/L/N, Y/N, right?” says the shorter of the two who approached. You were almost 100% certain that was Kim Taehyung. A large, wide smile and impeccable style. The taller, you knew, was Kim Namjoon, the leader of the group. You knew that for sure. But wait a minute, how---? How did they knew you were you? You looked around for a moment but still didn’t see Yoongi.

“Yes,” you said, your glass still held tightly between your fingers, “Hi.” You were glad that you managed at least those two words. He smiled at you and there was something about him that eased whatever nerves you had before. It was true. He didn’t look human in real life. You smile and make yourself take a deep breath. You’d likely be working with the group soon on their upcoming album. In a way, they were kind of your co-workers? Being nervous around them wasn’t going to make anything easier.

“It’s nice to actually meet you. We’ve heard a bit about you,” Namjoon chimes in, shaking your hand, followed by Tae. The two of them also introduce themselves to Seoyun and Jisoo, though Taehyung knew Jisoo as an acquaintance through mutual friends. The five of you fell into conversation and it wasn’t long before Jimin came and joined, introducing himself to you and your group.

“We loved your song, by the way,” Jimin said enthusiastically, “That hook…” Your eyes widened a little as you subconsciously pulled your lips in between your teeth, a small smile tearing at the corners. Some of the most celebrated artists in the industry loved your work. Sometimes, this kind of validation could be enough to drag you out of your shy comfort zone.

“Oh, thank you so much,” you said, “Which song?” You were doing all you could to not visibly shake. Park Jimin had the voice of an angel and if you were lucky enough to keep impressing BigHit, he might end up singing your work.

“I think it was “It Carries”?” Jimin said, calling over your shoulder, “Yoongi-hyung, Y/N’s song you played for us...it was “It Carries,” right?” You turned over your shoulder a little too quickly, hitting Jisoo in the face with your hair. You muttered a quick sorry to him. They’d passed around your song. God, your face couldn’t be any warmer, right?

“Yeah,” he said, expressionless, holding three drinks, “that’s the one.” You forced yourself to breathe again. That song had been hard enough to show to the group as it was personal. The fact that the whole group had heard it caused your heart to palpitate. You knew that Hayoon had a copy of it but the idea that someone you didn’t know might have it on their computer or on their phone or in their texts...it was still a little unnerving. A compliment, likely, but still unnerving.

Yoongi moved to hand the three of his group members drinks, which they accepted. “Nice to see you again,” he said to you, shaking his bangs out of his face. There were his eyes again. Soft despite his monotone. He sounded sincere but not overzealous or as if he was saying it to be polite. He was dressed nicely in a simple black blazer, black t-shirt and black jeans. Simple. Unlike what they usually wore for press, concerts, etc.

“You too,” you say in response, feeling yourself ease a little, taking another sip. He seemed perfectly relaxed, as if playing your song for everyone was just the most casual thing he could do...while across from him, your stomach was in knots. However, part of you felt at ease because he took it so casually, as if this whole thing wasn’t changing your life. As if all of this was natural. It was a paradox you couldn’t quite keep away from.

Seoyun who was having a good time, raised her glass. “Just want to make a quick toast to Y/N’s first day on Monday. I have a very hard-working, tireless, and multi-talented best friend,” she said, smiling and leaning into Jisoo just a bit. Your best friend was sweet but a bit of a lightweight, “Cheers to Y/N!!!” Everyone in the circle smiled and joined in.

The rest of the night flew by in a fun frenzy and the three of you ended up joining the group at their booth. You met Hoseok, Jin, and Jungkook shortly after, the three of them working their way through the fancy handle of Grey Goose vodka among their assorted bottle service. Hoseok was definitely the most tipsy and when a song he loved came on, he even pulled Seoyun and yourself in to dance. He was twirling you both around playfully and jokingly, but still managing to dance with more grace than anyone you personally knew.

When Hoseok released the two of you for a break, you found yourself deep in conversation with Namjoon and Yoongi while Seoyun managed to find herself flirting with both Jin and Jisoo. Namjoon and Yoongi both seemed interested in your music taste. They asked you about your musical influences and you found it really nice that they were just as nerdy about music as you were. For a moment, you could have gone to high school with them, as if they might have been in orchestra with you or jazz band.

“Epik High, Missy Elliott, Lady Sovereign, Beyoncé, CL....hands down of all time,” you said and as you took another sip of your drink, it finally made that awful slurping noise. You’d hit ice. Both Yoongi and Namjoon enthusiastically said that Epik High was one of their biggest inspirations to be rappers.

“Do you rap?” Namjoon asked and you couldn’t help be shake your head no. Performing was not in your wheelhouse. God, your audition was nerve wracking enough. Performing in front of hundreds of people? No thank you.

“No, not at all,” you said, “But I like to write them.”

“Like your song,” Yoongi said,, “That was a beautiful rap. You definitely could, if you wanted to.” You softened at the words coming out of his mouth and then some more when Namjoon agreed.

“Yu obviously have amazing musicality. Just like this one here,” Namjoon said, motioning at Yoongi. Yoongi just raised his shoulders the tiniest bit in response. An acknowledgment rather than an agreement.

Namjoon then asked you what you were currently listening to but you were interrupted for a second as Yoongi took the drink from you, leaning down towards the large low table, presumably to top you off.

You quickly snapped back to what Namjoon was saying. “Oh, lately I’ve been listening to WOODZ, Jvcki Wai, and I love Robyn’s newest album,” you say.

“I like Jvcki’s lyrics. Very aggressive flow, too,” Namjoon says enthusiastically and you nod in agreement.

“She doesn’t take prisoners. I think what she is doing is really cool,” you add, “Especially as a woman in hip hop.” You think of her song ‘Anti-’ All your friends really liked music but you were so excited to be working at a company where everyone had the same passion.

“People think she uses a lot of autotune but that’s actually usually just her voice,” you say with a laugh. Both Namjoon and Yoongi smile at your comment, the second handing you a newly made drink.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the tumbler from his hands. A small smile appeared on Yoongi’s lips as he finished making himself another drink. “Lady Sovereign, though?” he asked and you know he’s making fun of you.

“What can I say? My ten year old self was obsessed,” you say, smiling and thinking about the time you dressed up as her for a costume party in elementary school. The few small braids, the side ponytail, and tracksuit were still a look. Taking another gulp of your drink, you were trying to remember which number you were on. You could feel the alcohol in your cheeks at this point. You were tall for a girl and usually you weren’t much of a lightweight. You could handle your liquor but you’d always feel it in your face two drinks in. The feeling was comfortable but the thought of looking drunker than you were was not.

“I was curious, though,” Namjoon said all of a sudden, “Who was the rapper on your track?” You froze for a second for responding just a little too quickly. “An old friend,” you said, perhaps a little colder than you meant. You were trying to convince yourself that your reaction was due to the alcohol, but your face gave away everything.

“Oh, he sounds kind of familiar. That’s the only reason I ask,” Namjoon said and if he caught on to your demeanor change, he didn’t let on. It wouldn’t be surprising if Namjoon had heard of your boyfriend. He did win a huge rap reality show.

As you took another sip, Seoyun came over, dragging Jisoo and Jin with her. Jin was very drunk and leaning onto Seoyun, earning him an annoyed look from Jisoo. “So, I think the plan is for us to ditch and go get yangnyeom tongdak in say...five minutes?” he said, looking at his watch, a fancy digital contraption that flashed 1:00 AM. Wow, you didn’t realize how much time flew by.

Yoongi was the first to reply, as if relieved. “Sounds great to me,” he said, taking the happiest sip of alcohol you thought you’d ever seen. He then drained the whole thing, practically slamming it onto the table, and wiped his mouth with the side of thumb. “Ready!!” He exclaimed, smile on his face. You looked at him in the eye and there was a silent agreement when both of your eyes met.

Food > Clubbing.

Jin, despite how drunk he was, managed to coral all seven boys plus the three of you into the van waiting for you at the back of the club. Everyone toppled in with Seoyun strung out across Jisoo, Jin, and Jungkook in the back. Yoongi shuffled in, helping you up, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin pulling in the rear. The four of them squeezed together and grabbed you to lay out similarly to Seoyun. Taehyung and Hoseok held onto your torso while your head ended up awkwardly pressed against Yoongi’s armpit. You laughed as they hoisted you up, making sure you were comfortable.

The buzz was hanging high in your head and you could hear Seoyun, Hoseok, and Jungkook singing to “thank u, next” as it started on the van speakers. You didn’t sing but every time “next” was said, you punched the air above you with your palms. Minutes and several songs later, the van stopped and both Seoyun and you were hoisted out of the car. Yoongi and Hoseok gave you a hand out, and then lead you through the dark back entrance of the chicken place. All of you stumbled into a large room in the back, not completely closed off from the main restaurant but private enough where no one would know they were back there unless they went looking.

Sliding along the modern wooden bench in your dress proved difficult, Seoyun and Jisoo fumbling in next to you while Yoongi slid his legs through the opening between the table and bench, managing it without making too much of a ruckus. Jin and Yoongi ended up across from one another, both excitedly together. They ordered what seems like a feast for 25 people--not the ten actually there--and as they went through a list that included sweet and spicy chicken, honey garlic chicken, bulgogi flavored chicken, french fries, pickled raddish, and tteokbokki, you finally hear your stomach growling. It didn’t evade Yoongi and Jin’s ears. “Wow that was loud,” you say, trying to laugh it off, a little too drunk to be completely embarrassed. Jin immediately said to their waitress to make it fast as “the lady is hungry.”

Beer and soju arrive and despite the fact you don’t think you can fit any more alcohol in your body. Jin and Jimin challenge everyone to shots of soju and you managed to find more space in your stomach. Not the heaviest of drinkers, you quickly get more comfortable in your surroundings and you finally get the up the courage to pry. You turn to Yoongi and straight up ask him, “What were you working on with Donghyuk-sunbae and Yunseo-sunbae?” Yoongi finished his shot of soju, putting the glass back down on the table with a loud click, then crossed his arms on the ledge of the table.

“Group number for the new album,” he answered, his voice low and a bit slurred, “Trying to decide if we should do something nostalgic or something different. The concept is a lot...dirtier this time? I guess that’s the best way to describe it?” You mimic his arm position without realizing it, leaning onto the edge of the table in front of you. “Why not both?”

Your question makes him laugh. “How would we do that?” he asked, split between confused and curious. You could feel the gears in your brain start to turn. Figuring out the feel of songs you wanted to work on was one of the best parts in your opinion; thinking about what you wanted to convey was a rush. You had an idea of what you were trying to say but fuck it if he laughed it.

“Just think about it, okay,” you say, weirdly proud of yourself, “Do You Think It Makes Sense? meets ‘Tear.’ Maybe really bring out that R&B feel. Hmmmm...there is this really good sample from ‘Gossip Fools’ by Missy Elliott featuring Ludacris, actually.”

“You really dug into the library on that first song,” he said with a smirk. You can’t help but smile. It was true and you had done some refreshing on the BTS library in the last few weeks. Of course, you’d always been familiar with them but the song was a few years old. He looked at you for a moment, contemplating something. It wasn’t a lie that he made you nervous, but the alcohol was helping….for the both of you apparently. “Play the sample,” he said, looking pointedly at your phone.

“What?” you ask, as in...really, dude? But you’re reaching for you phone. You pull up your library and he takes his phone from you and clips the song, which is now playing on full volume. A few of the guys stop talking and look over. Immediately Hoseok starts moving to it and shouts, “MIIIIIIISSSY!!!”

“But slowed down a bit, I think?” you added, and you look at Yoongi’s face and a few gears of his appear to be turning. He turns down the speed to 0.75 instead of normal. Soon enough, they all seem interested in what’s going on. “Definitely more dirty if you slow it down,” you say, without really thinking what you’re saying and a little louder than you mean to.

The guys burst into laughter and it takes everything in you to not just sink into a puddle beneath the table. You’re could feel all  the blood rush to your face. “Just an idea,” you say smally, putting your arms back in your lap. Hoseok starts rapping along to it and after a moment, you can’t help but lightly join. You loved Missy.

Everyone eventually went back to their conversations while Yoongi and you ended up pouring over your music library, smirking at a few embarrassing entries. He even convinced you to play some some random things you’d been working on, including a few piano ramblings. You also mentioned that you also had played guitar since childhood. Piano was your favorite though, you admitted, and he smiled warmly at that and agreed. It was a little off-putting, his smile. It didn’t fit his preapproved aura but it looked so nice among his features. After ribbing you for having “The Shape of My Heart” by the Backstreet Boys on your Spotify’s “Most Recent,” you two eventually looked up to see that food had arrived and everyone was eating. The both of you were quick to pile your plates with chicken and tteokbokki.

You’d never met anyone as passionate about music as you and even though you were sure it was the liquid courage talking, you felt comfortable talking to the rapper. Despite what public decreed his personality to be, it didn’t feel like that when the two of you gushed over the use of vintage 808s. With a mouth full of sweet and spicy chicken, no less. Maybe it was because you could relate and not just on a musical level. You weren’t as outgoing as Seoyun, who was currently threatening to throw a rice cake at Jin, her personality counterpart. You felt at home in your own head and maybe that made you shy in regards to others’ standards. But...sometimes it was moments like these that you felt free enough to talk to someone you admired without getting nervous, without letting your nerves completely immobilize your ability to communicate.

Fuck, you ate too quickly. Part of you just wanted to lay down on your own plate, but there you were...taking another bite of rice cake, trying as you might to fit two whole ones in your mouth. After a moment, Yoongi’s low voice and shoulder jolted you out of your food and beer trance. “Yeah?” you said, mouth full of rice cake.

“Would you want to work on something?” he asked, straight-faced.

A chunk of rice cake might just have fallen out of your mouth at his question. You tried not to look too mortified when he couldn’t contain his laughter. God, you were hopeless. “Um, work on something?” you asked, sure that you couldn’t have heard right.

“With me, yeah. No thoughts on what but...even for fun? Just in general?” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his free, ringed hand, both of which were turning red due to alcohol. Not that you were clued in enough to notice. Your eyes weren’t even focusing anywhere because you might still have been in shock. But you felt the heat in your face and a fluttering in your heart. There was part of you that couldn’t help but stare. This was was more conversation than you would have expected between the two of you.

“Y-Yeah,” you say, scrambling with a napkin to pick up the rice cake that had hit the table in a bright red splat. You wrapped it up and set it to the side. Did you really hear correctly? Did you just say yes, too? Everything was a little buzzy and raw in your head right at that moment. This whole experience...getting hired by BigHit had sent everything into hyperdrive.

Were your dreams really coming true?

“I would love that,” you couldn’t help by say. You went for another rice cake, careful to keep it from dropping from your chopsticks. Stuffing it into your mouth without caring what you looked like, you sighed. Late night drunk eating was the best. “Almost as much as this rice cake,” you add, grabbing another with and sliding the bowl closer to Yoongi, so he didn’t have to reach over.

“I’ll be honest. I’m honored,” he said, smiling, “This place has the best tteokbokki.” He dug in for some as well and the two continued to chat mostly about what you two were listening to at the moment, even joining in with the group on other topics that were a-buzz at the moment. Jungkook even hopped up to take a group photo of everyone and then a long selfie shot of the group. You leaned over the table to get past Seoyun, Yoongi leaning even farther but his face still ended up getting partially cut off by your head.

It was getting really late and while Yoongi told you the guys didn’t have a schedule tomorrow, they all had things that they probably should get done. They insisted on dropping Seoyun, Jisoo, and yourself off at your place before getting on their way. From there, you left Seoyun and Jisoo at the door to go their separate ways as you made your way up to your studio apartment. Your heart was beating really quickly but you weren’t sure if it was from the several flights of stairs you ascended or the adrenaline that was currently keeping you awake.

Everything felt fumbly as you made your way around your apartment to get ready for bed. You could have just passed out cold in your going-out clothes, crossbody still strapped to your body. However, you managed to peel everything off and throw it on the floor before you threw on the PJ’s you laid out on your bed in preparation. Quickly, you could feel a headache trying to form so you grabbed a large bottle of water from your fridge and placed it on your nightstand. You knew that if you chugged a bunch you’d be fine in the morning.  After getting part of your nighttime routine in, you practically swan dived under the covers, and cocooned yourself in the large down comforter.

Maybe all of tonight was a dream and you had just been in your bed for the last several hours. You didn’t fall asleep for at least an hour because you couldn’t help but stare at the ceiling, trying to put all your thoughts together. You were getting to do what you loved for a living. A trailblazing company took a chance on you after you failed to read instructions on a songwriting submission. But...you would wake up the next day to the text Yoongi sent to you so that you would have his number.

Yeah, that wasn’t a dream at all.

YOU [11:21 AM]: how’s the hangover? SEOYUN [11:30 AM] not great ugh YOU [11:31 AM]: sorry, babe !! drink some ginger ale and have an ibuprofen and go back to sleep. SEOYUN [11:33 AM]: yes, mom. YOU [11:34 AM]: jisoo and you were getting pretty close last night? is it a thing or is it going to be a thing, etc? :eyes emoji: SEOYUN [11:34 AM]: not a thing yeT! i do really like him. doesn’t hurt that he’s fine as hell! YOU [11:34 AM] what about seokjin? i saw jisoo giving him a dirty look…. SEOYUN [11:35 AM]: let’s just blame my drunk self for being too friendly, ok? YOU [11:36 AM]: ah, i cannot imagine a life where boys fight over me. what’s it like in seoyun world? SEOYUN [11:37]: very funny, y/n. not fighting over me, seokjin’s just very friendly and he was very intoxicated. as i just said, so was i! YOU [11:38 AM]: both would be very lucky to have your attention. <3 SEOYUN [11:40 AM] :sobbing emoji: i have the sweetest bff. don’t make me cry, i’m already nauseous. YOU [11:41 AM]: :angel emoji:   SEOYUN [11:43 AM] but the real question is...what did you and yoongi talk about so much, huddled at the end of the table? hmmm? YOU [11:43 AM]: ah, music! just nerdy producer stuff, really…. SEOYUN [11:44 AM]: hmmmmm, interesting…. YOU [11:45 AM]: why is that interesting? SEOYUN [11:45 AM]: no reason, you two just looked cozy. YOU [11:47 AM]: COME ON!! don’t stir the pot seoyunnn SEOYUN [11:47 AM]: if there is an typhoon brewing, no need for me to stir >:) YOU [11:48 AM]: i hate you. this is my first big girl job. Even if there was anything--WHICH THERE ISN’T--risking the opportunity would be the last thing I would do. SEOYUN [11:49 AM]: lying isn’t a good look for you. YOU [11:50 AM]: seriously, though, seoyun! we just nerded out. we were discussing a song he’s currently working on and i played him that missy elliott sample. that song she did with ludacris. SEOYUN [11:51 AM]: let’s just pretend i know what you are talking about. YOU [11:52 AM]: it was fun but we were both really drunk. he asked me if i wanted to work on something with him but i’m just chalking it up to ‘commitments made drunk,’ a common theme among drunk people. SEOYUN [11:55 AM] well, good luck and hopefully he remembers. regardless, i have a very talented best friend and he’d be lucky to work on something with you. :) YOU [11:56 AM]: :blush emoji: sleep tight and let me know if you need me to bring you soup. SEOYUN [11:56 AM]: aweeee. ;;;;;; love you xx

[veridium]

just stay here tonight

HEY SO, FRIDAY NIGHT CHAPTER FOR FRIDAY NIGHT? WHO’S WITH ME FOR SOME MAGIC? COLLEGE AU UPDATE COMING AT YOU LIVE!

Get your kleenex out just in case...because...I needed mine...

Episode title brought to you by Augustana and one of my favorite songs from them. :)

fic episode masterpost

--

Thursday is forgettable, with the exception of the mildly entertaining but all-out cringe of Cullen’s appearance in the dorms. Friday, on the other hand? Non-stop anguish. Not the Greek tragedy kind, per se, but wondering: wondering if she knows just exactly what the fuck she’s doing, primarily. For too long, Olivia has gotten used to people chasing her down for exactly what they want from her, and what she wants from them, and nothing else. Indulging people rather than engaging has been her modus operandi since she was on the edge of seventeen.

So, understandably, Friday evening in preparation for her gambit is...interesting.

After spending a couple hours getting it all ready, and packing up the teeny trunk of her vehicle, the task at hand becomes getting her own ass together. Something that everyone wants to have a say in, apparently. Or, if you’re Sera, a knock on her door followed by a “knock her dead, Liv, wear the spiked stilettos! They’d make a clean kill!”

Then, there are the texts:

Ellinor: Hey dude, let me know how it goes, okay? I wish you’d tell me what you’re doing.

Ellinor: Okay I know you have your own life but it’s also like ⅓ mine so…

Ellinor: Fuck I think Cullen might be one of those people who unironically likes raisinettes…

Ellinor: oh my god I’m sorry this is about you but I’m nervous so I keep blabbering WHY CAN’T YOU JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU’RE DOING SO I DON’T HAVE TO PULL APART THESE RED VINES LIKE A MASOCHIST??

Theia: It doesn’t matter what happens I’m still killing her ok. The bitch has it coming.

Theia: [ CHICAGO . GIF]

Josie: NO YOU ARE NOT. WE HAVE DISCUSSED THIS.

Theia: That...was not meant for group chat. Yikes, sorry babe.

Josie: Right.

Lace: Lol another one for the fuck-up screenshots

Lace: Good gay mojo your way, Liv.

The sentiments are all appreciated, but they don’t really hit home. All alone in her room, putting on makeup and feeling like Mulan in the montage before she rides off to the army, it’s all a wonder as to why Cassandra agreed to go on this escapade. It’s as if she’s been fooled into thinking Olivia has a clue. Or, maybe she’s riding along to witness the impending crash-and-burn. A final act of karmic vindication, perhaps.

She picks out a black tank bodysuit and high-waisted, blue skinny jeans. Besides, where they are going isn’t exactly ‘fine goth attire required.’ However, the one staple that will not be left behind is her black leather jacket. Lacing up her converse and slapping on some gloss, and a hair tie on her wrist, and she’s ready to go.

The walk to their suite is an unfamiliar one, but one Ellinor did enough to be able to tell her off memory where to go. Right down to the number on their door. She should ask Ellinor to make a map, just in case, for teasing purposes -- but she looked too busy on cloud 9 earlier that day thinking about her own plans with Rutherphallus. One day, maybe, she’ll stop calling him by demeaning euphemisms. One day. But that day is not today.

Olivia paces in a weird circle a couple of times just outside the suite, hands on her hips as she does her best to remember she has lungs to breathe with. The actual door, the nice door, the one that looks like it works well and is nicely painted. Dorm room doors aren’t this nice. Crap. She’s quietly holding off an implosion. What if she says no after all this? What if she doesn’t like her outfit? What if she’s mean again? God, she can be mean. But then, she stops. Remembers when Cassandra was cornered in the library, and said with such earnest relief in her face that she felt like she could be herself around her. That Liv didn’t make a big deal of things. Psh, well, that was a misinformed belief. Misinformed but...kind.

Taking one last deep breath, she wipes her palms against her denim and knocks on the door. Within ten seconds, it opens. No monsters or ghosts or natural disasters -- no, it’s her, just her, on her other side. Cassandra, in black jeans and a grey v-neck sweater, and all-black tennis shoes like the ones Olivia would wear in high school, except nicer.

Her heart jumps into her throat as Cassandra grins and steps back. “Hey,” she says, all calm and collected and...and...just...fine.

“Hey,” Olivia gets out, her brows lifted along with her pulse rate. “You...you are awake still!”

“Yeah...you said 11.”

“I did. I did say...11. 11 in the evening. PM. Night...time…” she shakes her head and cuts herself off before she sounds too ridiculous. Maybe it’s too late, though. “Um, yeah. You...ready to head out?”

Cassandra, who’s been watching her feud with herself, only smiles and breaks away from the door. Bless her. “Yeah, I’m good, I just need to grab my coat.’

“Right! Yeah, good idea. Night is cold, and...yep, good call. Smart--”

“Liv.”

She blinks, and realizes she’s been looking off into space while talking. Dammit. “Yeah?”

“You’re not very good this, are you?”

“This...this what?”

Cassandra chuckles, and turns back toward the inside of the suite. “I’ll be right back. Try not to scare the neighbors.” She is back quickly, sliding a dark purple duffle jacket on, keys dangling in her hand as she pulls the door shut behind her and locks it. Olivia rocks on her heels in the meantime, looking down either end of the hall -- not a soul to be seen, for a Friday night -- before Cassandra faces her again.

“Alright, where to?”

“Oh, yeah, my car. It’s...gonna be a little bit of a walk to the parking lot, but, you know the parking pass prices are just...bullshit.”

“Yeah.”

They stand there for another awkward few seconds before Olivia once again has it dawn on her she has to lead the way. Fuck. She kicks herself into gear, and Cassandra follows, staring at her like she’s an animal planet show host taking notes on a creature’s behavior. Or, maybe she’s just...fine...and Olivia feels that. Whatever, same difference, right?

The walk happens silently, save for a few polite smiles whenever one of them opens a door for the other. Oh, and Olivia patting her back pocket to make sure she brought her keys. When they get to the lot, and she sees her valiant steed parked, she feels more at home.

“So, ever ride in a mini with muscle?”

“Excuse me?” Cassandra glances at her as they step onto the asphalt.

Olivia giggles under her breath. “A mini with muscle. You know, one with some….like, ‘oomph’ under the hood?”

“I would not know what ‘oomph’ means, but in your hands, I have my concerns.”

“Hah! Funny, very funny.” They diverge from one another, Cassandra going to the passenger door while Olivia goes around the back. She pulls out her keys and unlocks, sliding in nice and smooth. Cassandra is more polite and careful, but she settles in next to her. She probably doesn't spend much time in small cars. Olivia gets more giddy with anticipation, putting up her hair into a simple ponytail.

“...many concerns,” Cassandra reiterates.

“Psh, what?” Olivia scrunches her nose, her hands falling into her lap. “You think I don’t walk what I talk?”

“No, in fact I’m wondering quite the opposite.”

“Why be afraid of a woman who knows how to handle a good car? I wasn’t afraid of you when we rode on your bike.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes, grabbing for the seat belt. “I am going to go ahead and prepare myself the way I should, since I have a feeling as to how this is going to go should I tease you further. Or if I dare ask where it is you’re taking me at this hour.”

Olivia watches her, and she can’t help but smile. She leans forward with one arm on the wheel, and she sticks the key into the ignition. Turning the car on, she can’t help but love the way the engine purrs.

“Don’t worry, Cass. If I did want to murder you, I’d think of something far more theatrical. Public, with live music and dancing, or something.” she sits back, pulling her own seat-belt on. After that, her hand goes to the stick and her foot to the pedal. In response, Cassandra rests the side of her thigh against her door and plants an elbow on it. She looks unconvinced, or intrigued by something.

“What?”

Cassandra raises a brow. “That is the first time you’ve ever called me Cass. Not Cassandra. Or Pentaghast, for that matter.”

Olivia scoffs, and checks her mirror real quick. “No it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“...Uh, okay, so what? I mean, you want me not to?” she looks over, brow cocked.

Cassandra shrugs and settles in. It’s impossible to know whether she is pleased or displeased by it. Ellinor’s called her Cass, so has Cullen. But it’s a mystery as to whether either of them ever asked about it. But, to her credit, Cassandra looks ahead.

“Do your worst, Olivia.”

Her tongue presses against her smiling teeth, and Olivia feels the engine warm up at last. “With pleasure.”

--

They drive through town, get on the freeway and past a few exits until Olivia finds the one she’s after. The whole time she is either on par with the speed limits or past them, but once she gets to the outskirts of the county, the traffic goes scarce. Even for a Friday night. A few turns and twists, and she’s on a highway winding incline, up one of the few canyon peaks in the nearby area of rolling hills and flat valleys.

She knows she’s getting close when mostly barren trees start to heavily line the two-lane path, and her mini as always runs like a dream. She has her spotify playing low on the radio, something with a heavy guitar but she can’t quite make out the vocals.

“Well, what do you think?” she asks, as she pulls and hugs tight another sharp turn in the road, engine growling as she accelerates out of it.

Cassandra as far as she has seen, keeps her gaze out the window or on her. Sitting still, but not on edge. “You are asking me for my opinion on your driving?”

Olivia smirks. “I was thinking more about the car, but, I had prepared myself emotionally for your scathing review.” Another turn, this time to the left, and she handles it beautifully. These roads are like the back of her hand, a sight she’s known at all hours and all seasons. Headlights are all she needs.

Cassandra bends her knees a bit more. “I think…” she pauses, while Olivia pulls into what appears to be a destination. Or, rather, a parking lot. “You broke at least three laws in the process, but, I can’t say you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Agh! Bullshit,” Olivia challenges, a subtle laugh in her tone, “I only broke one. Near the turnpike, that’s it.”

“No, you broke three, the second was speeding, and the third was speeding and--”

“Ohoho,” her laugh continues to bubble as she pulls into a parking spot, the only car in the lot by the looks of it, “I sped? No fucking way!” she gasps, pretending to be astonished.

She pushes the stick into place and yanks up the parking brake. They look at each other, now stopped and still, the car lulling. Cassandra doesn’t look flushed or nervous like other people she’s taken along for rides. Maybe she’s been well-conditioned by everything else; too well-conditioned, to be frightened of a fast car and even faster driver. Olivia can only turn the key back and turn off the car; the headlights go out, and the one above their heads comes on.

“Well,” she exhales, adrenaline still surging in her veins, “we’re here.”

“And where is ‘here’ exactly?”

“A park.”

“A...park?” she looks around, through the windows. Not much to see, though.

“Heh,” Olivia unbuckles herself, “come on, you’ll see what I mean. But I have stuff in the trunk for us.”

“Does it happen to be a shovel and body bag? Or even better, a driver’s ed manual?”

Olivia groans and shoves her door open. “No, I’m afraid those are both in my Barbie pink jeep at home. Resting on the squeaky horn rather comfortably like you are on my last nerve.” She gets out, and Cassandra does too, and for a moment they look at each other over the car roof.

Cassandra unzips her jacket but keeps it on. “Fair enough,” she concedes, and they shut their doors. Venturing into the back trunk, Olivia pulls up the door and finds what she left in there: a basket, with its contents covered by a draped, folded heavy blanket. A two-hand job, but not too bad. She picks it up and manages to pull the door back down, all the while Cassandra stands back somewhat looking like a woman of action left without a an action to commit.

“You need help?”

“No, no,” Olivia teases, hitting the button on her car alarm. The lights flicker and she turns to face her. “I am a capable person, capable of many things besides blatant crime. You just need to trust me.”

“You don’t know what you ask,” Cassandra counters, hands going into her jacket pockets, “but fine, I go where you go.”

“Yes,” Olivia closes in on her, until she’s about a foot away, “and tonight, I go there, over that small bridge and up the trail. Come on!”

More walking, and more silence. It’s weird, just a tad, to be acting so congenial after so much heartache. But on the other hand, it’s something she’s craved the whole time: for them to be as they were, as they could have been, had not her pride or her defenses squandered her good graces. The more time they spend not arguing, or ditching each other, the more Olivia dares to hope it can all be redeemed. As they walk on the dirt and wood chip path with only so much as one iPhone flashlight for a little less than a ¼ mile, she appreciates all Cassandra did to open up to her: all the plans, all the exposure. Because the closer they get to where she wants them to end up, the more nerve-wracking it all becomes. Maybe that’s what’s been making Cassandra chuckle and eye her all evening: she’s watching Liv get a taste of her own medicine.

At last, they come to the top of a hillside, where the view is clear over the city below. The spot is all grass and trail, and what looks to be an old rusty playground at the base of it. No lamp posts, no bike racks, no sidewalk. It’s a bit creepy, if you’re a normal person with the usual and healthy fear of coyotes and forest cryptics. But if you’re Olivia Sinclair, it’s anything but.

“Ah, perfect!” She sighs when they come to a stop. “We can stick it here.”

Cassandra looks around, vigilant. “Are you...sure?”

“Yes, sure as any mediocre man.” She sets down the basket on the ground and picks up the blanket. “Don’t worry, I did bring a source of light for you, a mere mortal.”

“Pfft,” Cassandra comes closer, and takes the opposite pair of edges on the blanket so as to help her spread it out. “What, is this where you tell me you’re a vampire? Make me say it while you breathe down my back?”

“Well, shit, now that the rest of the evening’s plans has lost its mystery…”

“Ugh! Do not even!”

Olivia laughs, and with the blanket all out she gets to work with the array of items she’s brought. Four small mason jars with with small white candles in them that she plants on each blanket corner. She gets out a lighter and goes to work on all of them, Cassandra still standing by, loyal but suspicious, as if one could be both at the same time.

“You brought candles?”

Olivia finishes the last one, setting it back down. “Yeah, I need hot wax. You know, for summoning Satan.”

“Olivia!” Cassandra huffs, before stepping onto the woolen fabric and taking a seat. “You’re lucky I’m not one of my peers from my Bible Study. They would start spraying their travel-sized holy water all over you.”

Olivia laughs again, and pulls out some more items from the basket behind her, before she, too, sits down. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. Old habits.”

“Summoning Satan?”

“Nah, teasing you.”

First, Cassandra gives a side-eye, but when Olivia meets her gaze with a warm smile and an offer of peanut M&M’s she softens. She takes the box from her and opens it. “You brought sustenance for our off-grid affair.”

“Yes, I did. Admittedly, it is mostly stuff I was going to bring with me to the movies with Ellinor tonight. I’m a candy smuggler.”

Cassandra smirks. “You had plans tonight with Ellinor?”

“Yeah, she wanted to go see Star Tr--Wars! Dammit, I always get those confused,” she admonishes herself while getting into her own package of sour patch kids. “Anyways, she’s gone with Cullen, so I doubt there’s love lost.”

“I’m sure he’s loving every minute. He’s a huge fan,” Cassandra knocks the first few pieces back. She looks beautiful, with the way her face and neck are illuminated sparsely by firelight. It’s mesmerizing, especially when her eyes light up in their subtle glow. “You broke plans just to...to bring me here?”

Olivia pulls her knees up against her chest. She’s sitting close enough to talk low, hushed and sweet, but far enough for deniability as to her desires. She sucks on a sour piece of candy and looks out at the landscape. “This place is important to me. I go whenever I need to clear my head. Mostly at night, since I go on drives. Ellinor’s been here, and so has Theia. But I don’t bring anyone else here. Not...well, not until tonight, I suppose.”

Cassandra sets down her box, still chewing. “Theia. Is she your friend, the one you were with at the gala?”

“Yes,” she smiles, reaching and taking her hair out of its ponytail. “We’ve been thick as thieves for years.”

“So,” Cassandra chuckles to herself, “that explains it.”

Oh? Olivia looks at her, eyes narrowed unevenly with confused intrigue. “What?” She looks on as Cassandra squirms a bit, in her own kind of way: shoulders tensing, but her expression otherwise hard to read. Her palms clasping together in her criss-crossed lap.

“She looked like she wanted to fight me. That, and...ugh, I shouldn’t say it. It’s ridiculous of me.”

Olivia shrugged. “Cassandra, if anything is welcome around me, it’s being ridiculous. You should know better than anyone at this point.”

She grins crookedly. Reluctance, coming from someone who has the premium on being mature and logical. “I...I noticed how comfortable you were with her. When you came down the stairs, with your arm in hers. I had no idea who she was but I...I got jealous.”

Olivia sucked on her teeth, holding back the urge to laugh from the ludicrous nature of it all, and instead reached for a few more sour patch kids. Fucking hell, Theia was right. Theia and her weird, weird hunches about social cues. God dammit, she would never hear the end of it if she told her that it worked.

“I’m sorry that happened. It was...I don’t know, the whole night was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have gone, but, my Mom makes demands of me that are few but huge. I wasn’t lying when I said my family keeps me on a weird leash, it’s...it’s a long story.”

“No, I get it. Mine does too. No need to apologize,” Cassandra shakes her head, watching as Olivia eats some more. “It was just me being unreasonable. I am guilty of that. It’s sort of my thing.”

“I wouldn’t say…” Olivia scrunches her nose, and swallows her bite. “Well, okay.” She turns herself to face her, crossing her legs like Cassandra has, only a bit tighter. “So, like, first impression of you, alright? On the soccer field, when you and Cullen came up to ask about the Strokes concert. You were intense, and you didn’t waste any time on extra words or...you know, laughing. But you weren’t someone I’d picture when it comes to the word ‘unreasonable.’ Not even when I got to know you. Intense...focused...serious, but not unreasonable.”

Cassandra leans back on her hands, her legs stretching out with one crossing over the other. More relaxed. “Would it be a deal-breaker if I were unreasonable?”

Olivia tucks some hair behind her ear. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem to be one of yours. I wouldn’t think it’d be very fair of me to--”

“Oh, so you think you’re the unreasonable one?”

Olivia blinks, and looks towards the woods ahead of her. “I...uh, well…”

“No, no, Ms. Sinclair. You know your words. Make your case.” She’s smiling softly, in that cocky, half-arrogant sort of way. The way that makes you want to believe every word and every thought she’s thinking before she ever says it.

“Um.” Olivia rubs the back of her neck while her mind does its best to put together a coherent response. Not the easiest thing to be done. “I hate to say it, but...I don’t think it’d be nearly as effective as the case you made.”

At that, Cassandra frowns, and peers down at her lap. “Olivia, I was upset, and--”

“No, the thing is,” she takes a half-breath, “you said it yourself you don’t mistake your words. You were right. I like control...but it’s because I like detachment. I want people to like me but I don’t want to risk them letting me down. Oh, and if we need any other filler information, I’m also the Queen of Death in your local Poli Sci class. I mean, if that’s not unreasonable, then…”

Her mind trails off, getting lost in the insecurities she’s named. Once and for all, they’re no longer elephants in the room -- at least for her. In a bizarre way, here, in the middle of a blanket with only four candle jars to light up her world...her world with her...it felt the safest she had been to be herself outside of her close friendships. Far away from anything and everything that’d make her want to shut herself up. In spite of the solace, it’s also sad, and her gaze wanders down as she fiddles with blanket fabric between her fingers. There’s crickets chirping behind her, but not much else to distract.

“You know, Olivia, the soccer field was not the first time we ever came into contact.”

She looks up a bit. That can’t be right; she had never uttered a word to Cassandra before that day. Sure, she existed, and she had seen her around as another person in the crowd, maybe. But never dialogue, and certainly never introductions.

“What?”

Cassandra smiles, and leans up more. “Poli Sci 234. Social movements.”

“But...but you weren’t in that class. I don’t remember you at all--”’

“It was taught by a Professor I had my first year I grew to like a lot. I wanted to take 234, but it wouldn’t fit. I still stopped in once or twice, sat in the back of the class. I still remember...hah,” she bites back a laugh, “you were wearing this big, black bow in your hair, around your ponytail. I didn’t really know what to make of you. This guy was going on and on about his half-soaked opinions, and everyone in the class was checking out. But then you raised your hand and shut him down so mercilessly it was...like…” Cassandra’s chest heaved again with another amazed laugh. “I thought you were going to make him cry.”

Olivia listens, a bit lost at first, but the memory is too stark for her to forget. Oh, she remembers that man. That horrible, libertarian-sympathizing asshole who thought his voice was that of Jesus himself. She gasps her own laugh of disbelief.

“Payten Thompson. Ugh!” she sounds off in disgust. “We...shit! We were discussing the Gay Rights Movement. I remember. He thinks he knows everything there is to know because he’s gay and on the GSA cabinet, but he can’t name the Black trans woman who threw the first shot glass at Stonewall? Fucking bogus.” She rolls her eyes, already starting to see red just recalling the moment she looked across the desks and classmates at him and obliterated his pacifist, respectability-politic drenched opinions.

Cassandra nods. “Yes. It was...so unexpected. At least I thought so. I went to the Professor’s office after that class to visit and he brought you up. Said you were quiet, but when you had something to say, you didn’t hold back. I assumed our paths would cross in classes eventually, so I didn’t really follow up after. Then months passed, and I started seeing this girl hanging out with her friend on the grass by the field. One with a black bow in her hair.”

That bow was a good look. A very good look. Shit luck she lost it at a party and hadn’t been able to find one to replace it. It was pique aesthetic. Well, that wasn’t the point of this discussion.

Olivia finds herself blushing, and she tries to escape it by watching the city lights. “I...didn’t see you in that class. That’s so funny.”

“I’m not really someone who captures people’s attention. Not like you. But my point is, you’re not the only one who likes distance and control.”

“Yeah,” she replies, dismissive of herself, “what a valuable talent I have, getting attention. I should put it on my CV.”

Out of nowhere, or at least to Olivia, Cassandra sits up and places her fingers along the far side of Olivia’s face. With unexpected care and touch she guides Olivia’s gaze back to her. With shocked obedience she follows along, lips parting and eyes rounding.

Cassandra looks determined, assured of herself. Confident, but compassionate.

“Liv, if it’s one thing that doesn’t look good on you, and one thing only, it is being apologetic of what makes you so amazing.”

Her non-stop blush goes into sudden-fever mode. Thank goodness for the dull lighting. Olivia inhales, but is at a loss for words. Well, until she isn’t: the moment Cassandra tries to withdraw her hand.

“No,” she lets escape, voice cracked. She takes hold of it, and holds it to her lap.

Cassandra’s eyes widen but she goes along. “Liv, are you...what are--”

“Cassandra, I…” oh, crap, she’s done so little thinking about this whole night. For someone who says they love control and indifference, she’s throwing it all to the wind. “Look, can I...can I just be honest about something? About...about tonight?”

Cassandra tilts her head. “What, did you actually not forget the shovel?”

“Ugh, no! It’s...it’s not anything like that. I mean it, I’m…”

“What is it then?” 

Well, fuck. Here...goes nothing. She takes a deep breath, something she’s been doing frequently tonight, and closes her eyes for the beginning. The jumping off point. “I don’t want to be happy if it’s without you. I don’t want to be angry if it’s not with you. You...you drive me crazy, and confuse me, but...but you also make me laugh, and you eat the peanut M&M’s I hate but buy anyway because I think maybe this time around I’ll like them, but I never do so I try to pawn them off on Ellinor, and that’s insane of me, but...but you...you make the insane things I do make sense for some reason. I brought you here because I wanted...to say...I wanted to ask you…”

“Ask me...what?”

She re-opens her eyes, and they are starting to sting from the build-up of emotion. The walls are crumbling away into dust and sand, and all she has is one Hail Mary to throw before it’s all botched for good. This would be her only chance, her one chance -- there could be no more believing it could happen some other day, or in some other universe. She was done with the denial. Surrounded by cheap candles and sugar-salt on her tongue, she was going for broke.

“If...if I could...have another shot.”

Cassandra has the best poker face in the world. It’s a good listening face, though. For every second she doesn’t react, Olivia feels herself sinking a foot deeper into the ground. Asking for something she in no way deserves after all the nonsense. But she’s sick of not trying. Which is why, when Cassandra grins to one side, and tucks a leg underneath the other so as to lean further into her, it’s the closest she’ll ever come to believing in a higher power probably in her entire life.

There has to be a rejection on the wings. All the hints, all the signs that Cassandra didn’t want her anymore. Past-tense was past-tense, right? Well, not exactly.

As Cassandra’s eyes half-close, and she leans in slowly with her lips reaching towards hers, it all feels like some bittersweet recreation of a memory. The couch, in the office, when everything went wrong. Butterflies run amok in her, and she freezes. Now Olivia knows how she might have felt. How could she have had the guts to say no to this?

She just has that much integrity.

But she’s not going anywhere this time. This time, she leans in the rest of the remaining couple inches, and they kiss. They kiss. And it’s cautious, like all innocent first kisses are: far and away more docile than what Olivia’s typically gone for. There’s no clamoring, no rigor. Although, in their place is respect and relief. She’ll happily take that exchange as she closes her eyes and submits, not wanting for anything. Her hands go to either side of Cassandra’s face, sliding them against her skin until the ends of her fingers are in her hair. Her short, soft hair. So soft. Their kiss grows, but is steady in its shyness.

Then, she pulls back ever-so-slightly, and her eyes slit open.

“Um, hey...so, this is...awkward, but, I actually...I got somewhere to be…” she whispers, softly grimacing. What better way to cap off a raw moment of vulnerability than a cringey joke?

Cassandra raises a brow, and her hand slides around to the back of Olivia’s neck. “I was right, you aren’t very good at this.” Her lips graze against Olivia’s. “But fine, I dare you to leave.”

Olivia blushes some more, and arches her back against her. “No, I think I’d rather try my luck at tasting the M&M’s again…” she smiles fiendishly, and her eyes flash into Cassandra’s, before she returns her lips to hers. The way Cassandra feels, the way she kisses her, the way her hand feels sliding down her collarbone and onto her shoulder…the warmth of her breath raising, and their rhythm with each other starting to find its way...

She yearns for nothing and nowhere else.

[totallyvain]

Vanity Hour with Carlos Vara: Handling the Seasons of Life

Hometown: Lexington, South Carolina

Sounds like: Your next favorite pop bop

WORDS BY: THANIA GARCIA

In American culture, the search for independence comes at the age of 18. For Carlos Vara, this was exceptionally true. At 18, Vara moved to Nashville in search of a life separate from the emotional cuff to his father who had previously owned nightclubs but had abruptly found religion in the small town of Lexington in South Carolina. This along with the struggle of being closeted in a small town naturally pushed Vara to search for newness in a city rich of musical history.

At 21, Vara has somewhat of a grasp on his day to day life. Bouncing back from Nashville to Los Angeles, Vara has completed his anticipated October 4th release of “Have You Ever Seen a Boy Break Down” -  an EP meant to encapsulate his past few years bouncing from season to season in the versatile chapters of his life.

“When I was a teenager on X-Factor I thought I was going to be…well I loved songwriting and I loved singing, but I didn’t necessarily know who I was at the time. I was in the closet in the suburbs and I was growing up as a preacher’s kid so there was that phase. Then there was the phase of me moving to Nashville at 18 and coming out and discovering myself and exploring the boundaries of my mind and challenging myself and my ideas… I think that phase of my life lead to the music I made at that time and now I’m in a completely separate phase…what I create now are journal entries of specific eras of my life.”

In my interview with Vara, a clear conflict arises - a conflict found in the lyricism of his past couple releases. Vara shares, “I do have experiences where I’m like out and I’m like ‘Am I this person?’…because as I said I’ve gone through so many different stages in my life.”

Listen to “Confident,” Vara’s February 2019 release and you will fully understand this divide - a truly personal and internal divide.

Vara says, “The people who knew me at 18 would think I’m this quiet shy person. It’s like imposter syndrome for yourself it’s almost like you don’t think you have the right to be this brand new version of yourself. I feel it especially because I’ve been through so many extremes but I think now I’m in a stage where I’m like ‘why can’t I just embrace every single emotion?’ ‘why can’t I just live through these phases’ they are the best parts of life and it’s freeing to be what you want to be whenever you want to be.”

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Totally Vain: Your life has had clear chapters from your upbringing in North Carolina, to the X-Factor, to your time in Nashville and LA. When you look back at these past few years, how do you compare your artistic vision from then to now?

Carlos: “It’s interesting you say that because it is so true… I think …well actually I was talking about this yesterday when I was stoned with my friends that I feel like I’ve lived distinct phases of my life. I think through the process of growing up, my artistic vision and the way I think has changed. My music is always changing, depending on how my environment changes..because it stays so true to that. To me, my writing is based off my reality at the time, I will always be satisfied with it because I make music to be able to express myself and to be able to purge”

TV: Your environments have all had very distinct setbacks and advantages, how have they affected you in relation to the music industry?

Carlos: “I remember being a kid and watching TV and award shows and listening to music in the car…I knew I had a passion for music but being in South Carolina meant I didn’t have an uncle who was an executive, or any relation to the industry itself. I didn’t see anyone who had come out of South Carolina, all I saw was people coming from New York or Los Angeles so I just never had that hope. Senior year of high school I moved to Nashville by myself and finished graduating online. I was working restaurant jobs. I worked so many restaurants from 18 until last year before I got signed. I think that moving to Nashville was the first time in my life when I felt like I had some possibility to make it. Thank God for Instagram and Spotify and Apple music. I think that really became a way for me to connect to people who appreciate music the same way I do and connect to artists as far as co-writes. Especially in Nashville since it is a songwriting community, it definitely helped when it came to writing. Moving there was the first time I was able to discover who I am as an artist and figure myself out, retain my thoughts and grow up and figure out what I believe and have the opportunity to collaborate with people around me.”

TV: An overarching idea in your releases is confidence, both the reaction to confidence and personal self-confidence, from where do you think that idea stems from? And what kind of conflicts or internal struggles do you still have?

Carlos: “My friends know me as a very extreme person meaning I truly feel every emotion I have. I’m either going fucking crazy at a party or I’m like I want to go home. There is no in-between. I feel like for me since I am so emotional, I tend to feel it all at once and songwriting allowed me to be able to go home at 2 A.M. and smoke and just sit at the piano and play whatever is on my mind. I think it’s a way of me being able to work through any struggles I may have and for me to fully comprehend those emotions and see it as a full picture…for instance, I am extroverted but I’m sensitive and insecure so those feelings are both there at the same time. I mean it. I’ll be at a party being the loudest one there and thinking everyone hates me so it’s like I think that when I write, I want to be able to capture what that feels like. When I wrote “Confident,” I was in LA for the summer and it was my first time being out here for a super extended period of time and I had just turned 21 so I was able to get into all the gay clubs and it was exciting but it was stressful. I wanted to appear like I was cool and kept up with everyone but I just remember going to a club and being like shwasted and like going home and crying in the Uber. I’m just out here pretending to be confident and I was mad at myself and angry at myself for faking confidence and I went home and wrote a few lines for “Confident.” I think from an outside perspective people think I’m this super confident boisterous person and I guess I am but internally it’s rooted to a lot of sadness because I am freaking out inside.”

TV: Who were the artists who spoke to you the most growing up and what did you pull from in their work that you apply to your own?

Carlos: “I think of it in phases. My mom had me when she was 21 so at that time my mom only listened to pop radio and like Christina and Britney, Celine Dion, Whitney Houston all these pop vocals and also my parents owned nightclubs so I was always surrounded by an energetic musical atmosphere. Around age seven, my parents became more religious and my dad became a pastor we went to a church with a big African American community so they were soulful in their gospel and that’s when I allowed myself to become more emotional with my music and I wanted to create to provoke emotion. When I was 16/17, I went online and I discovered the things I wouldn’t normally have access to like the Beatles and the Beach Boys and Queen and Freddie. Those three eras, have all formed me today. I don’t know if I have one specific source of inspiration but it was a melting pot for sure.”

TV: As you’ve been coming to find an artistic persona, what have you found your overarching message to be?

Carlos: “I want to always be real to myself as an artist. Growing up I was always the weird kid and I never felt that I had someone I could relate to. Now I feel I’ve been blessed to have been able to reach out to kids that feel that same way I felt and I want to make music whether it be a fast fun bop or an emotional ballad, I want the music to be passionate and dramatic and I want to be a part of the world in that way, I want to create. It’s a spiritual thing, it comes out and I know how it makes me feel and I hope that when other people hear my EP, I want them to be able to feel that emotion and have a small escape or a meaningful feeling.”

TV: Can you give me a little breakdown on what kind of lyricism and sounds we can expect from your upcoming EP?

Carlos: “The cool thing about this EP is I was able to create both in Nashville and in Los Angeles. Living in Nashville, it is very much a lyric community and in Los Angeles, there is more of an emphasis on melodies, so it’s been cool and inspiring to have access to both. For me, this EP embodies real lyricism and dramatic melodies. It’s a real and vulnerable introduction to who I am and what these past 3 years of my life have been like.”

[kkoehn17]

I just want everyone to know that as I typed this I was eating popcorn. But not just any popcorn. Microwave popcorn. But not just any microwave popcorn. A bag of PERFECTLY POPPED microwave popcorn.

That’s right folks. I have achieved perfection. I did not burn a single kernel, nor leave a single one unpopped. I have officially peaked.

So…yeah.

Anyway.

Here are some of my favorite things from May and June:

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Podcasts

I have always loved Lauren Conrad, all the way back to her days on The OC. So when I heard she was starting her own podcast, I was pretty much immediately sold, especially if it was going to include helpful tips from people she admires, because then maybe I could take those tips and use them to turn into Lauren Conrad. Not really. But kind of, you know? (find it here)

The Wild is one of the more unique podcasts I’ve found. It follows the adventures of ecologist Chris Morgan as he tracks animals and explores nature in the Pacific Northwest. It’s cool to listen to each episode and visualize the landscapes he describes all while sitting at my desk or making my morning commute. (find it here)

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Books

I want to say I was completely shocked by how much I loved Uncommon Type, Tom Hanks’ book of short stories, but, like, it’s Tom Hanks, so of course it was going to be wonderful and charming. I listened to the audiobook and it was honestly like hearing Woody tell me bedtime stories…during the day…that didn’t make me sleepy. All I’m saying is it was great. (find it here)

I’m not all that great at reading suspenseful books because I don’t have the patience to wait for the big reveal at the end. But somehow Kate M. McManus makes the surprise ending in both this book and One of Us is Lying tolerable to wait for because the characters are interesting and relatable and I can never figure out which way the twist is going to, well, twist. (find it here)

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Movies

Unicorn Store is the story of a failed artist who moves back in with her parents and takes an office job before being contacted by a man who claims to work for the “unicorn store” and offers to give her a unicorn. My summary makes it sound vaguely creepy but it’s not. I actually LOVED this movie and already know I’ll add it to my shuffle of movies I like to watch on lazy days. (find it on Netflix)

Booksmart is Olive Wilde’s directorial debut that was getting so much hype when it first hit theaters. People were calling it the new, female version of Superbad, which, after seeing it, I can understand why. I recently watched it on Netflix and not only laughed through the entire thing, but danced. This movie has a badass soundtrack, y’all! I highly recommend it for any and all of these reasons. (find it on Netflix)

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TV Shows

I have pretty much recommended The Society to anyone who will listen—mostly for selfish reasons, because I just want to have people to talk about it with. It’s an apocalyptic, Lord of the Flies-esque show that follows a group of teens who have to figure out what to do after their entire town disappears. (find it on Netflix)

Dead to Me was recommended by my roommate and though I was slow to start it, once I got going I couldn’t stop. It follows a woman whose husband is killed in a hit and run accident, and her friendship with a woman she meets in a grief support group afterwards. I laughed and gasped through the whole thing and already can’t wait until season two. (find it on Netflix)

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Music

I haven’t really been listening to specific albums over the last two months but I have been finding a lot of songs that just make me want to JAM. So, in case you’re in the market for some bops, pull these guys up on Spotify, stretch a little, and then dance your heart out.

1) Too Close by Rainsford

2) Dancing on My Own by Elle Fanning

3) Thief by Ookay

4) Walk Man by Tiny Meat Gang

5) You Need to Calm Down by Taylor Swift

6) Truth Hurts by Lizzo

7) Look What God Gave Her by Thomas Rhett

8) To Whom it May Concern by Sam Spiegel, CeeLo Green, Theophilus London, Alex Ebert

9) Imagination by Foster the People

10) Boys by Lizzo

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Birkenstocks

After years of thinking about purchasing a pair of these, I finally pulled the trigger at the beginning of this month and BOY WAS I WASTING TIME NOT OWNING THESE. I’ve already broken them in so they officially have that comfy footprint in the sole that is like a hug for my feet every time I put them on and did I mention you are wasting time not owning these?! They are a little on the pricey side for my usual shoe purchase but they are worth every penny. (find them here)

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Double Lacrosse Ball

After my brother starting playing lacrosse, my family discovered the wonder of rolling out our back muscles with a lacrosse ball. So when I found this on Amazon—a double lacrosse ball that does twice the work in half the time—I knew I was on to something. If you’re someone who struggles with tension in either your back or shoulders I highly recommend one of these! Plus, they’re cheap! You get a set of two for just over ten dollars. #blessed (find them here)

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Have anything you’ve been loving over these last couple months? Let me know! My Amazon cart is always open…

See my previous favorites post here.

May/June Favorites I just want everyone to know that as I typed this I was eating popcorn. But not just any popcorn.