#int; the doctor & jack.

[heartsdefine]

↪ memes — accepting!

@undyingrogue said: ❛The skeletons aren’t reanimations, they’re revenants: ghosts inhabiting a physical shell.❜ [13]

        “Ghosts...” the Doctor repeats, frowning. “Now that is a horse of a different color.” A simple reanimation is nothing to sort out—just a shell of someone who once was a person, nothing to lose in destroying them. Revenants are different. More difficult. If there's a soul attached to each of these creatures, they'll have to be a lot more careful with them. “Right. Re-calculating. Can't just destroy them, so what do we do? We separate the souls from the bodies. Free them. Which I'll definitely be able to do after I think about it for approximately—” They pause, counting on their fingers. “Fourteen and a half minutes?” The Doctor flinches as there's a crashing sound from beyond the doors barred with only a broomstick and a hope. “...think we'll last that long?”

[ravenalla]

Okay I swear this will be my last rant post before the next episode airs but I have to get it off my chest cause I keep seeing the argument made that people disappointed Din gave the darksaber away are forgetting the lack of plot in the previous seasons, which I very heavily disagree.

I can’t speak for everyone, but at least for me when I’m saying I’m disappointed Din did not become Manda’lor I am not saying I hated the adventure of the week side quest format they had. That’s what I liked best about the show! It was great in season 1 feeling like Din was just the random guy off on his own adventure with this baby he found, I would have loved for it to have kept that small space western feel. Season 3 becoming this big interconnected universe with a corrupted New Republic plot connecting to the sequels is what I was most worried about just because I personally don’t like that direction. The more they’ve tried to go the Andor route and make this show about the Galatic politics, the worst it’s become imo (we literally have two white dudes writing a plot point about droids liking being underclass and serving the soft democratic people that is ruled with the help of a former Nazi, but ohh it’s okay it’s Jack Black and he’s funny and the Space Nazi and the Space Nazi doctor are really sorry for what they did, look the New Republic is just as bad as the fascist imperials 🥺🥺)

What some people are not getting is that the darksaber is ALL. DIN. HAD. LEFT. There was no driving force or goal for him after episode 2, they reunited him with his child in a spin-off show, they have him redeem himself fairly easily without any emotional impact, and now they took away the opportunity to do one last interesting thing with him. Din does not have his own actions or thoughts throughout most of the season, and when he does it’s just retracing the character development they already gave him in previous seasons (i.e. the whole droid fiasco). He’s a plot device, meant to further Bo-Katan’s character and help her with her goals or have him in danger so she can save him. It was okay if Din did not become Manda’lor, but they can’t just make him having the darksaber out to be a huge deal, show him trying to learn how to train with it, and give it up so stupidly through a loophole just so Bo-Katan can lead again when she has done nothing to actually earn it or apologize for the way she disrespected Din’s entire culture again and again. She was a terrorist who has done a 180 into suddenly being an honorable character just because of a few action scenes, no introspection or interesting conflict between her and the covert about their differences, nothing about her actually thinking about her past mistakes, just the covert being there to look like dumbasses who settled on a dangerous planet where their children get eaten so Bo can lead missions, look a million times more competent in comparison, and suddenly be the one who deserves to lead.

There doesn’t have to be a big plot each episode, but it’s not being executed well like it was in the first two seasons. The goal was getting Grogu to a Jedi, and we were given the interesting side adventures on that journey. Din needs to find somewhere he can lay low, he goes to Sorgan and becomes tempted by a domestic life. Din needs credits, he takes a job with some old acquaintances and sees what kind of slimy person he could have been. Din needs to find other mandos to help him find a Jedi, he runs into a small town desperate for help with a Krayt Dragon and showcases his pride in being a Mandalorian but his respect for other cultures and his willingness to do the right thing. He travels to a planet ruled by an former Imperialist because the Jedi he was searching for was there and helps her to save a town both for their sake and his need to give his son the best life he can have. See the pattern? They were side adventures, but they weren’t a random hodgepodge of ideas, they fit the story and the tone, giving us interesting side characters and helping to develop our main characters. Din showed his leadership, his growing kindness, his frustrations, his annoyances, his fears, Grogu becomes more adventurous, vocal, and attached to who he’s starting to see as a father figure. They both aren’t talkative characters, but they had feelings and personalities we saw. They had moments between them that wasn’t just exposition for the plot or a push towards an action scene, it showed their lives and values, their relationships. Little moments like Din being happy to hear Grogu’s name, Cobb sharing his story and why he valued the armor, Omera talking with Din about his life and wondering if he could stay, Frog Lady wanting to get her eggs safely to her husband and Din comedically trying to make that happen. The story was driven by these characters decisions and their personalities.

Season 3, on the other hand, has taken away all the life of these side adventures in its goal to tie in a larger Star Wars narrative that connects to other shows. They are not character driven anymore, and instead the characters are being twisted and molded to do and say stuff that’ll get us from point A to point B instead of the other way around. The point of Din breaking his creed is not to see what that would mean for his identity or how he wants to live with Grogu by his side, the point is to take him to Mandalore so that he can ultimately get trapped and fall down a hole so Bo-Katan can see the Mythosaur. The point of Bo-Katan’s crew leaving her and her staying in a random castle for no reason doing nothing all day isn’t for her to recognize her past failings or show us what their relationship was like and what it meant to her, it’s to have an easy offscreen explanation so that she can come to the covert without anything challenging in the way. The point of Din’s coverts staying on a monster-infested planet where Paz’s son is kidnapped isn’t because it makes sense they’d be there or that Paz suddenly even has a son we’ve never seen before, it’s so they can put in CGI monsters they thought were cool and have Bo save the day so they can have a flimsy reason she does need to be leader again. The point of spending time with the covert and having random pirates attacking Nevarro wasn’t to develop the other mandalorians as actual characters, it was to have them accept Bo easily so that she can “walk both worlds” and give Carl Weather’s character more screentime. And so much more.

Things are happening, but it doesn’t matter whether they make sense or fit the characters anymore, because all the side quest are focused on is bending over backwards trying to make you believe this Bo deserves the darksaber narrative. Before that it wasn’t like the Covert was planning to take back Mandalore, Din wasn’t planning to take back Mandalore, Bo didn’t tell anybody what she saw so there was no real stakes for anybody. Nobody in the main plot has had any purpose as more than side characters besides her. Din may have been the main character, but the people he met on his journey didn’t just do stuff to contribute to his own character or finding a Jedi. Omera had her own goals, Cobb had his own goals, Fennec had her own goals, Boba had his own goals, and they all still worked well with the narrative without diminishing each other, Din developed on the way by learning from the other characters and them him. What the fuck does Din want this season? Paz? The Armorer? The answer is whatever will make it easiest for the plot to retake Mandalore and have Bo be the Manda’lor for these writers, despite it being shown previously they have no reason to care or like Bo-Katan.

Like, some character moments are there. Bo is changing. I’m not saying that’s not happening at all. But it’s being done in a way that is sabotaging every other aspect of the show to force this plot that they wanted, the sidequest are feeling duller because they aren’t for these characters to have fun adventures we get emotionally invested in that simultaneously furthers the actual main characters goal, it’s let’s just have a CGI dragon, let’s have Lizzo and Jack Black guest star, let’s have Zeb from Rebels be in there for no reason. Unless again you count Bo as the main character, but like honestly she’s not even having natural character development. She went from being an antagonistic ex-terrorist to suddenly being kind and charitable with hardly any buildup or insight into her feelings. It doesn’t feel organic. I know she lost everything, but they still made it seem like she blamed Din for it only to have her rescue him once and completely abandon that hostility. The best we really have gotten is Grogu remembering his past while with the armorer and setting up his future as a Mandalorian, but even that feels cheapened when the armor he was given isn’t even talked about with the person who he shares the symbol with him that signifies their relationship, making me think it’s just another merchandise decision.

We wanted Din to learn to rule because, even if we did have to say goodbye to the adventure of the week type format, it would have been in service of his character evolving into something he doesn’t think he deserves or is good at. It would have been the next step in his journey, accumulating everything he has learned, the growth he went through using both diplomacy and his skills as a fighter time and time again. Instead, they chose to really quickly ditch any of the conflicts he had so they could have him free to do this instead. If they had waited one more season, this could have possibly been done well imo. Din’s arcs could have been brought to a meaningful and satisfying conclusion, and then you could have made him and Bo-Katan become co-leads. It wouldn’t have mattered as much then if they decided to focus a little more on her. But instead they essentially abandoned Din’s story they’ve spent two seasons creating to go ahead and tell her own.

The side quest aren’t what people are complaining about. It’s that they have no meaning for our characters other than having everybody circling around Bo most of the time or creating some big connection to the sequel triology and setting up the Star Wats MCU, which wasn’t the style of writing this show did. I don’t care how many ways people want to argue against it, Din is not the main character in this season, which is not what they have been selling us all year, and he doesn’t even have any engaging story or arc as a side character either. That is the problem, and that is why these side quest and the lack of an actual plot do not work.

[lottiethroughthelookingglass]

Okay Absent Friends leak but can we talk about what's on some of the other pages that you can just read if you flip the pics and squint real hard cos I feel like I'm losing my mind here in a corner.

Page 33 we have the Doctor's "I know you like each other" and Ianto's "I love him" but then voila page 34

DOCTOR And I know him (something, something I can't read this sorry) IANTO You don’t understand… (more unreadable) DOCTOR (something) IANTO Every time he dies a bit of me dies too. I would never (hurt?) him. DOCTOR I see. I’ve not played this right have I. IANTO No. DOCTOR I should stop showing off and save the world. IANTO That would be best. DOCTOR After all that’s what a real hero would do.

FX: He reaches for the door. It does not open.

DOCTOR No! I can’t open it! Augh! IANTO And now you’re just an angry man shouting at a door.

And then page 53 just after Jack realises he's not talking to the real Doctor we get another scene.

INT. CORRIDOR (okay I can't the first couple lines but...) IANTO (unreadable) can you? JACK No… It doesn’t matter. IANTO It does matter. JACK Not now. I wanted to say something. IANTO Okay. JACK I love you. IANTO You… what? JACK (echo) I LOVE YOU. It’s what you want to hear. IANTO Sir JACK (louder in volume, not shouting) I love you. IANTO (unreadable) I can almost see this thing- JACK (Enjoy?) the moment. IANTO “(Enjoy?) the moment.” That’s what you said to Tosh by the (unreadable) bouncy castle.

JACK (louder) I love you.

[callixton]

everyone listen to rhapsody in blue and think abt jack harkness rn. to be honest

captain jack spotify playlist with holst's saturn and gershwin's rhaspody in blue on it back to back...... you get it

[silvereyedowl]

What We Know About Series 14

Doctor Who series 14 is coming up next year. This is a roundup of advance information and leaks about the season and the preceding Christmas special. Sources are at the very bottom below the cut.

CAST

Ncuti Gatwa as the Fifteenth Doctor. Unlike his predecessors, this Doctor changes his outfit a lot.

Millie Gibson as Ruby Sunday. Like her actress, Ruby is a native of Manchester.

Returning characters:

Jemma Redgrave as Kate Stewart, head of UNIT.

Bonnie Langford as former companion Mel Bush.

Villains:

Jinkx Monsoon as a villain favouring piano-themed attire, described as "the Doctor's most powerful enemy yet". Not everyone survives the encounter...

Indira Varma as the Duchess. RTD: "a whole new audience will be hiding behind the settee when the Duchess unleashes her terror." Varma previously played Suzie Costello on 2 episodes of Torchwood.

Other characters:

Aneurin Barnard as Roger ap Gwilliam.

Jonathan Groff as a "mysterious key" character.

Lenny Rush as Morris, in time for the Doctor's "greatest nightmare". RTD: "But what secrets does he hold? What's secreted in the Segway?! And will his terrifying probabilities be proved true..?"

Jack Forsyth-Noble as Will.

Gemma Arrowsmith and Mary Malone will appear in the Christmas special, while Majid Mehdizadeh-Valoujerdy and Billy Brayshaw will appear in separate episodes.

Also announced to be appearing: Sophie Ablett, Anita Dobson, Michelle Greenidge, Bhav Joshi, Millie Kent, Eilidh Loan, Pete MacHale, Miles Yekinni, Hemi Yeroham. Dobson previously appeared in the audio play "Blood of the Daleks".

EPISODES

There will be a Christmas special in December 2023, followed by an eight-episode season. (The BBC posted that the season would air in spring, but then removed the information.) Russell T Davies is the showrunner.

A guest star from 2005 returned for the special.

Episode 1's title was coincidentally spoken aloud in a third-season episode of Star Trek: Picard. It includes the words roar, Glastonbury, and conquistador.

Episode 2 contains the words Liverpool, legions, and non-diegetic. Scene 10 begins "INT. CANTEEN. DAY."

RTD thinks episode 4 is one of the best things he's ever written. The line "I once went to the top of the Shard" was cut from it.

The script for episode 7 begins with the line "INT. COFFEE BAR, USA — DAY, 1947".

Episode 8 will contain the words kingdom, gold, and Tigella. Scene 73, featuring the Doctor and Ruby in the TARDIS while "enemies are being fought", was the last scene filmed for the season.

There's a 1960s episode, featuring the Doctor and Ruby in snazzy period outfits.

The episode guest-starring both Varma and Groff will be set in the Regency era. "Dress to impress, and beware the Duchess."

CREATOR RAMBLINGS

According to RTD, we will be "staggered" by the 2023 festive season surprises.

There are monsters which are "impossible to describe" without referencing Fourth and Seventh Doctor adventures.

RTD promises that there are "plans still unfurling" which have yet to be made public.

Production designer Philip Sims said he was excited about "designing a new Dalek".

Davies has hinted that the blue doors Michelle Greenidge and Anita Dobson were photographed with are significant.

Script editor Scott Handcock mentioned filming which required nine babies, as well as Ncuti and Millie.

Monsoon's first day on set "teams her with an unexpected name from the Tom Baker era".

Anita Dobson has said she's playing Ruby's neighbour, whose name is either Mrs. Flood or Blood.

RTD used a potato emoji while commenting on publicity photos from the Regency episode (Sontarans?). Davies was also very coy about the identity of Groff's character.

RTD mentioned one episode having gone through three titles with no decision having yet been made. Another episode had "sixpence" in the title for a while, until the coin was cut.

RTD teased a famous guest star appearing in a scene with a giant statue head in the finale.

While writing about the final days of filming, RTD said that "Yasmin Finney wrapped a few days ago".

OTHER

Filming began on December 7, 2022 and wrapped on July 14, 2023.

Block One was directed by Dylan Holmes Williams. Block Two was directed by Mark Tonderai. It included the Christmas special. Block Three was directed by Julie Anne Robinson. It contains "two wildly different episodes, by two different writers". Block Four was directed by Ben Chessell. Block Five was directed by Jamie Donoghue.

Posters of the Doctor and Ruby.

Fifteen will be getting a brand-new sonic screwdriver.

previous

Leaks and sources below the cut!

LEAKS

Michelle Greenidge appears to be playing Ruby Sunday's mother. Since Greenidge and Millie Gibson are different ethnicities, she is presumably an adoptive, foster, or step mother.

Campaign posters for the "Albion Party", with Roger ap Gwilliam as the "Space Saviour", were spotted on location filming.

Jinkx Monsoon is in the '60s episode.

Millie Kent is playing Valerie, and Sophie Ablett is Marti Bridges.

Mel Bush will be appearing in the season finale.

Reports from finale location filming, albeit second-hand, of someone on set saying, "This is where the Daleks come in".

According to his CV, Majid Mehdizadeh-Valoujerdy will be playing Carson in an episode directed by Julie Anne Robinson.

Davina McCall may be the returning 2005 guest star. She will apparently host a genealogy show on which Ruby appears, and will be crushed by a falling Christmas tree.

RUMOURS

UNIT may be getting its own spinoff. (SOURCE)

The DWM production journal has led some fans to theorize Steven Moffat will be returning as a writer.

SOURCES

Doctor Who filming begins with new director

Doctor Who filming in Penarth as Doctor and companion costumes revealed

Doctor Who filming at Capitol Shopping Center in Cardiff

Doctor Who filming with new monster at Swansea Bay Campus

Doctor Who filming in Newport with UNIT, Space Saviour and companion

Doctor Who filming in Swansea: new monster details

Doctor Who filming with Aneurin Barnard at Cardiff City Stadium

Doctor Who filming with Millie Gibson on a moving train from Cardiff

Doctor Who filming at Loudoun Square flats

Doctor Who Filming in Bristol With Millie Gibson, Michelle Greenidge and Anita Dobson

Doctor Who filming in Pembrokeshire with Millie Gibson

Doctor Who filming: new photos of Millie Gibson in Pembrokeshire

Photos snapped of Millie Gibson filming Doctor Who

Doctor Who filming: Ncuti Gatwa and Millie Gibson in Pembrokeshire

Doctor Who filming in Bristol with Millie Gibson and Anita Dobson

Russell T Davies talks “exciting” Doctor Who scenes as programme films in Bristol

Doctor Who filming with Ncuti Gatwa at two venues in Cardiff

Doctor Who filming: Block Three begins

Doctor Who filming: clue found for secret location filming

Ncuti Gatwa and Millie Gibson film 1960s Doctor Who scenes

Doctor Who films in Bristol with Ncuti Gatwa and Jinkx Monsoon

Doctor Who filming in Cardiff with Beatles connection

New Doctor Who photos of Jonathan Groff alongside Nucti Gatwa and Millie Gibson

Doctor Who filming at Margam Park

Doctor Who films more scenes with a Beatles connection

Doctor Who films in Cardiff theatre

Doctor Who films in Cardiff with Ncuti Gatwa and Bonnie Langford

Michelle Greenidge films Doctor Who in Cardiff

Ncuti Gatwa, Millie Gibson and Bonnie Langford film Doctor Who in Cardiff

Millie Gibson and Ncuti Gatwa film Doctor Who at Cardiff City Hall

Doctor Who films scooter stunt on Cardiff streets

Bonnie Langford and Ncuti Gatwa film Doctor Who scenes on a scooter

Ncuti Gatwa and Millie Gibson film Doctor Who in Barry

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION “Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death” [ 4.10 ]♮PART 1, half 2

INT. YACHT - YINDRA’S ROOM - DAY

The next morning, Yindra opens the door, only to discover a package has been left for her and Heather outside their room. Upon further inspection, she finds instructions on the front dictating that this contains the outfits they should wear for today’s activities.

Okay then… Yindra unfolds the tissue paper, retrieving the clothes. On top, as far as we can see, it’s just a standard issue plain white tank top.

INT. HOSPITAL - KENNETH’S ROOM - DAY

The good news (depending on your opinion) is that Kenneth survived the heart attack. He’s back in his room after an overnight and early morning in the ICU, and his condition has stabilized enough for now.

The bad news is, that little wake-up call to his declining health has done a number on everyone’s mood. There’s not much optimism left to go around, delusional as it may have been, so all that’s left is the fatalism. Kenneth has lost just about all of his endearing charm from yesterday, now tired and noticeably grouchier. He’s short with the nurses, and keeps shrugging off all of the small ways Grace tries to lend a helping hand while the doctor walks them through what happened last night.

Doctor: … as it is, cardiac irregularity and arrest is a fairly common side effect of cancer at this stage. So it wasn’t necessarily a signifier of…

Kenneth scowls to himself, hardly listening. The details don’t matter -- nothing can change that fact that he’s dying, and he almost did a few short hours ago. He’s got a glint in his eye, the glimmer of all the frustration simmering under the surface.

Lucas recognizes that glint. He knows it all too well. And usually, if he was smart, even a hint of that glint meant he was better off making himself scarce. Even if it’s not a sure-fire guarantee of trouble, and Kenneth is far from likely to try anything in such company, Lucas figures he shouldn’t try his luck.

So he makes himself scarce. He slides away from the wall and back out the door, leaving them to their debrief. He doesn’t want to hear it anyway. He doesn’t want to know in exactly what ways his father is deteriorating.

No one notices he’s gone.

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - DAY

Lucas pushes through the double doors and back into the waiting area, taking in a deep breath of cold, sterile air. It doesn’t help -- it doesn’t ease the constricting feeling in his chest. He can feel his hands starting to tremble, like they did when he was working at Adams, so he balls them into fists.

He exhales and turns around just in time to see JACK HUNTER enter through the arch to the lobby. Somehow showing up at just the right moment.

The two of them exchange a silent look. Lucas says nothing, expression still characteristically indistinct, but Jack has had enough practice reading the subtleties to understand.

Without a word, he gestures Lucas towards him, then starts to head back through the archway. After a beat, Lucas follows, happy for the excuse to walk away for a minute.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

There’s some not-so-lovely surprises in store for the folks on the west coast when morning comes too. Farkle is scrolling through it that morning -- a smattering of new stories about Isa have hit the tabloids, and none of them are flattering. It seems like at this point, some people are just profiting off their misery whatever way they can, even if it’s all nonsense.

One direct quote doesn’t sound like nonsense, though. It sounds legit, because Farkle knows he said it.

“‘It’s hardly surprising to see it all blowing up like this for them,’ one insider told us. ‘They’ve never had good luck with this stuff. It’s like a neverending Greek tragedy. I don’t see how this will be any different. De La Cruz has a knack for destruction. Given their mother, is it any wonder?’”

Jordan. He’s pulling exact phrases from their conversations, twisting them around and putting his own spin on it. Given their split, Farkle can’t help but think the phrasing is intentional, too -- it’s not about the convenient payout.

He wants Farkle to see this. He wants him to know, wants to hurt both of them.

Isa: Did you see the one where they call me Rosemary’s baby?

Farkle jumps, lifting his gaze to find Isa leaning against the wall outside his room. They nod towards his phone. Clearly, they’ve seen the worst of it already.

Farkle: No? What the fuck. Isa: Hey, I’m not mad about it. I actually thought that one was at least a little creative. You know, if I were half the devious mastermind some of these people must believe I am, I’d be living the fucking life right now.

Farkle doesn’t see how Isa can make jokes about this. Sure, say you get used to it all you want, but he doesn’t buy it. They shrug, plopping down on the couch opposite him.

Though Farkle has bigger reason for personal upset. He hedges for a moment, then confesses, telling Isa that he’s near certain Jordan is part of the crew leaking these stories.

Isa: Wow. Farkle: I’m so sorry. Like, so fucking sorry. I should’ve never talked to him about you. Or like, any of it. I shouldn’t have -- Isa: What? Not… talked to your boyfriend? That’s kind of how relationships work -- at least the good ones, as far as I’m aware. It’s not your fault he’s a pretentious jackass who apparently has nothing better to do than play petty mind games with his exes. Farkle: Yeah, but…

He still feels terrible. For not listening to people sooner; for not being able to shield Isa from the worst of it, especially when he knows some of the calls are coming from those formerly inside the house. Isa gives him a nudge, shaking off his melancholy.

Isa: Hey, come on. Lighten up. If I took all the shit that got said about me in these things personally every time, I wouldn’t be able to function. In fact, I basically used to do that, and we saw how often that turned out well. I was way more unhinged then. Farkle: … as opposed to…

Har har. Isa rolls their eyes, then leans back so they can kick their feet up and show how unbothered they are -- right on top of Farkle’s lap while they’re at it. He casts a side-eye at their socked feet dangling off his legs, but doesn’t push them off.

Isa: For real, don’t worry about it. If I think it’s a real problem, I’ll let you know. But again, I don’t wanna think about this right now. I wanna spend time hanging out with my best friend, not… harping on all this B.S.

Farkle supposes he can respect that, but their way of going about it might be more complicated than before. With this new wave of media blitz, Isa is going to be more noticeable, and wandering around these popular places isn’t going to be so fine and dandy. Farkle isn’t sure they’ll be able to do anything without being hounded.

Farkle: Might have to go into lockdown mode. Isa: Um, no way. I’m not letting your fuckwad ex -- Farkle: Maya’s used the term “limp dick,” if you want to borrow that one. Isa: That is incredible. But I’m not letting Jordan fuck with our time together. If we wanna go out, fuck it, we’re going out. [ lighting up with an idea ] And I think I have an idea as to how.

The twinkle in their eyes is equal parts impish and intriguing. Farkle looks a bit hesitant, because who knows what an Isa idea is going to be before it comes out of their mouth.

But he’s already on board. He knows he is. Isa gives him a smirk.

INT. MCNAMARA HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY

Curled up on the couch together, Zachary and Ruby look at the same tabloid articles about Isa. Zachary shakes his head at one that claims Isa was “kicked out” from the MacNamara home for their “bad behavior.”

Zachary: It’s ridiculous. That’s not remotely true. Ruby: You can tell it’s B.S. given how vague it is. Didn’t even take the time to at least make up what exactly this bad behavior is. It’s not only offensive, it’s just lazy. Zachary: They’re twisted. Where are they even getting their “insider information?” I’ve never understood -- the people in this industry who would…  Ruby: And you’ve been in it for decades. Imagine how Isa must be feeling. [ a beat ] Don’t you think we should get in touch? Just make sure they’re alright. Zachary: I tried when they left. You know I didn’t get through. I don’t want to put more pressure on them. Ruby: True… but maybe in this case, you need a little nudge.

If the alternative is deterioration, isn’t it worth the risk? Zachary runs a hand through his hair and sighs as he gets up from the couch. 

Zachary: What would I even say? I’ve never had to… and I’m just as useless with this tabloid stuff. I spent so much time avoiding this kind of thing, and now I’ve got nothing. [ off her nod of acknowledgement ] How do you approach this situation?

Ruby thinks on it… then lands on a bright idea.

INT. AAA - PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE - DAY

ERIC MATTHEWS is dutifully at his desk at Adams, but his focus is admittedly torn. He’s balancing following the Isa saga -- and waiting for any emergency outreach they might send him -- with keeping up with the Friar situation, getting updates from Jack and Riley. On top of that, he has to run a whole school… so basically just another day.

He perks up when a call comes through on this phone, expecting Isa. He figured they would reach out again once this stuff continued leaking to the press…

But it’s not Isa. Their caller ID lights up with a new name. Zachary MacNamara.

After a pause, Eric gets his reflexes to work and picks up.

Eric: Hello?

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - STUDY - DAY

Zachary hesitates himself, not sure what to say. Although they’ve corresponded regarding Isa before, this is the first time they’ve ever interacted by a medium other than text. The scene continues, split between them.

Zachary: Um, hello. This is Zachary. MacNamara. Eric: So I saw. Nice to actually chat, though not under these circumstances. [ a beat ] I’m assuming you’re calling about the tabloids? Zachary: If only that were the only thing. Isa -- [ embarrassed ] It seems I’ve proven myself incapable of parenting.

Isa has disappeared. Poof. Although that news isn’t unwelcome, Eric reacts more calmly than Zachary expected. He doesn’t judge Zachary, and he isn’t even surprised. Isa has gotten much better about coping mechanisms, and grown a lot in the last few years, but sometimes they still default to their old escape routes. This reaction isn’t unheard of.

Eric: Do you know where they are? Zachary: Yes. We have a P.I. looking into the leaks, and as a bonus, I may have had them… keep an eye out. For them. Eric: So you had someone track them down and tail them. Zachary: I’m not proud of it. I didn’t know what else to do when they didn’t respond to me. Eric: Hey, no judgment. If I had those resources at my disposal, believe me, me and my partner would probably do the same. Believe it or not, Isa’s friend Lucas is even more slippery.

Scary thought. Zachary exhales.

Zachary: Anyway, didn’t need to do that for long, because we know they’re in a safe place. They went -- Eric: To Farkle. Their friend. [ a beat ] Am I right? Zachary: Suppose I wasted my money on the P.I. How did you know? Eric: Educated guess.

There’s a reason they called him -- he knows Isa too well.

The question is, can he help get them back home… Zachary sheepishly admits that he feels very out of his depth. In all honesty, this whole situation is overwhelming enough for him on his own. Having to navigate the Isa of it too, when he doesn’t feel like an expert in it by any means…

Eric: You’ve been doing this longer than me, but as far as I can tell, I think that’s just fatherhood.

Zachary laughs lightly, nodding. Fair enough. With that in mind, Eric claims Zachary doesn’t need to think of Isa as necessarily all that different from his other kids. The individual details are different, of course, but the instincts are the same.

Which mainly means putting himself out there and getting back in touch with Isa, and giving it his best shot to communicate. Should he manage that, Eric does have some tips.

Zachary: Is there anything I should keep in mind in how to handle it? I don’t want to do anything that’ll make things worse. Eric: I get that. The first thing is to be honest. Easier said than done, I know, but it really is essential. Isa will respond much better if they get the sense that you feel just as uncertain as they do, because you can bond over that. You’re in it together, rather than them being the burden. Zachary: Right. Exactly. Eric: And when I say be honest, I mean be as clear and blunt as possible. Don’t feel like you have to sugarcoat. If you go too vague, leave any room for misinterpretation, I promise you they will jump to the worst possible conclusion as they fill in the blanks on their own. One of their less-than-stellar habits that they’re still working on.

Makes sense. That’s why communication is so important… but Zachary does have to strike a careful balance here. He was right about that. It’s key for Zachary to reach out, to keep the line open, because silence like they have right now will just signal to Isa that they don’t care (even if that’s far from true). But beyond that, he needs to be patient -- forcing a conversation when Isa isn’t ready won’t do any good. They need to come around on their own time, when they’re emotionally ready. So long as Zachary keeps signaling that he’s there, that he’s open for whenever and whatever Isa is prepared for, they will come back eventually. Eric has faith.

Eric: Basically, everything you’ve been doing this whole time. You are trying your best, and it’s making a difference. The fact that nothing had happened up to this point is pretty impressive, to be frank. Zachary: Well, thanks. I’ll try to keep that in mind when the doubt comes creeping in again.

Zachary thanks Eric for taking the time, and for coaching him through this. He’s sure he’s busy, and as an adult he shouldn’t need this guidance. Eric shakes his head with a smile.

Eric: Hey, it takes a village. We’re part of the same tribe now.

So they are -- and what would we do without our tribes... Zachary returns the sentiment and promises him he’ll update if Isa doesn’t.

EXT. YACHT - UPPER DECK - DAY

Another day, another picturesque catered breakfast out on the deck. Yindra emerges into the sea breeze and makes her way towards the food, now donning the outfit she was assigned -- plain white tank top, dark wash skinny jeans.

It looks like that’s the uniform of the day. All the girls are dressed in the tank and jeans combo, nearly identical in look yet naturally carrying the look in different ways. Body shape, skin tone, height… it all seems to be drawn in even sharper contrast with the unassuming plain wardrobe.

Heather has donned hers as well, looking a bit washed out in the white with her bleached hair. She waves Yindra over to join her.

Before Yindra can head over with her breakfast, though, she’s detoured by a couple of the label producers present. They kindly ask Yindra if she has a second to chat. Figuring it’s better to agree, Yindra nods and allows them to lead her off to the side, towards the railing and out of earshot of the other girls thanks to the breeze.

The conversation starts amicably enough, both of them curious to know how Yindra is experiencing the retreat thus far. Is she having fun, has she found any challenges, etc. Yindra keeps her answers vague and polite, not wanting to say anything that might dash her chances or make her look bad.

Then it gets weird.

Producer A: Glad to hear it. So, what do you think of Kimmy? Yindra: … sorry? Producer A: Kimmy. The redhead. Pretty good dancer, eh? Yindra: Oh, yeah. Yeah, she’s… she definitely has skill. Producer B: We’re not sure about her harmonizing though. Not the best at sight-reading. Producer A: And between us -- she seems like a bit of a ditz. Not a whole lot going on upstairs for such a pretty face.

Yindra blinks. She isn’t sure she disagrees with their assessments, at least at this point, but she doesn’t feel comfortable speaking on them either.

Producer A: Though Tabitha doesn’t seem much greater in that department either. Producer B: Don’t you think? What’s your read on them, Yindra? [ with interest ] Anyone you think is stiff competition?

They’re trying to get something out of her. She doesn’t know what, but the way the conversation makes her feel sends a signal loud and clear. She’s heard tales of how this industry pits women against each other, the underhanded maneuvers that thrive on backstabbing and gossip. She just didn’t realize she’d bump up against it so fast -- let alone from professionals who may not even pick her in the end.

Suppose that’s part of the appeal, though. Endear yourself to the higher-ups, knock down your competition in the process. How much of your soul are you willing to trade to get a step up the ladder…

Not only that, but what might others have said about her when caught in this exact same moment?

Wisely, Yindra side-steps the question. She claims everyone seems like pretty decent competition so far, which if they’re looking to build a supergroup, is probably how it should be. Then she excuses herself with class, stating she’s absolutely starving and needs to fill up before more hard work that day.

So she escapes this mouse-trap unscathed, but she can’t shake the foreboding feeling she just got a little taste of the rest of her career.

INT. SUMMER’S PLACE - DAY

Vanessa is spending time with SUMMER LIONS after staying the night, and based on their conversation, we get the sense that this has been a common refuge for her while she’s in a cold war with her parents.

Today though, the focus is on the Turner audition -- or rather, not focusing on it. Summer is doing her best to get Vanessa to take a much needed mental distance from it, even if briefly, so she doesn’t psych herself out before it.

And this works… mostly. It gets thrown out the window the moment Vanessa gets an email from Turner admissions, giving her the time slot for her audition tomorrow. She shares it with Summer, who whistles.

Summer: Any idea where in the line-up that is? Vanessa: I think earlier, but near middle of the pack. Summer: Do we like that? Vanessa: I honestly don’t think it matters. Either I make an impression or I don’t. Whether I’m first or last isn’t going to make much of a difference.

And given she’s spent the last few days basically scrapping her entire routine and starting from scratch, searching for something more authentic, she can only hope it pays off. Summer grants her that momentary moment to obsess over it, before insisting they go back to pretending it’s not happening.

Summer: I’m thinking coffee. You want coffee? Maybe with a little shot of something. It’s that kind of weekend.

It sure is. Vanessa nods, letting Summer head towards the kitchen. She tries her best to put the audition out of her mind, but she can’t help but glance towards her phone again. Curious about one factor in particular…

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY

And that factor has just received his time slot, too. He’s later in the evening, a couple of places after Vanessa.

But he doesn’t think to tell her about it. That’s not his first thought. Instead, the instant he receives the time and has a second to process it, he copies the info and texts it to Charlie.

It feels like agony for the next minute or so, Zay impatiently waiting for him to see it and text back. He needs to know ahead of time whether he’ll be there or not. Not that it matters -- not that it’ll make any difference. He just wants to know.

Just his luck, Charlie is better at responding than in the past, and it’s good news.

“It’ll be cutting it close with my other thing, but I should be able to be there!”

“Where is that in the line-up? Do you know?”

Zay can’t help but smile, exhaling a sigh of relief. Once that urgent item has been addressed, the rest of his brain resumes working… and he remembers there’s someone else he should probably check in with. No clue if it’s technically allowed, given their strategic embargo, but he braves shooting Vanessa a text with his time slot.

She responds with hers, confirming the reality that they’re nearly back-to-back. Because of course. It would be so easy for them to be able to be there for each other, to catch the other’s audition while they’re waiting for or wrapping up theirs.

But neither of them make that offer. Neither claim they’ll be there to see the other. That part of the embargo seems sturdily in place.

That said, Zay does at least extend the curiosity of good luck, sending her a “break a leg.” After a moment, she responds.

“Same”

“(Not literally)”

Zay scoffs a light laugh, shaking his head. It might feel more jovial, good-natured, if the threat of competition wasn’t so real that they felt like they couldn’t speak up to this point in the first place.

The heat persists, coast to coast…

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

But it’s absent from Global Beat, where Josh is enduring the drudgery of an abysmally slow day of flipping through cold submissions to the producers. It’s not even a work day, so he must really be bored to be hanging around at the office, but it’s not like he has much better to do. As a creative starved of creating, even this feels better than wasting his afternoon doing nothing.

But his mind isn’t really on the submissions from nobodies. He keeps letting his gaze drift towards Melissa and Justin’s offices, thinking about the songwriting retreat he’s not on. Not so much because of what they might be crafting there, but more so what they left behind.

He can’t believe that Maya’s demo portfolio is as bad as she claimed. He especially can’t believe that dismissal came from Maya herself of all people -- he wonders what it must be like if Justin and Melissa have decided it’s worth turning her confidence down so many notches.

But it’s not his business. She’s not his client. Those demos were intended for Justin and Melissa, not him. Maya said they weren’t worth listening to. That should be that.

And yet…

Maybe he’ll just sneak a listen. Just to see what it’s like. It’s not like anyone is around to know, and he can think of it as a learning opportunity. A chance to see what Melissa and Justin see and determine why they decided to shelve them. A reverse autopsy of sorts. Just a little side project, a way to occupy his idle mind.

Even though there’s no one else around, Josh treads quietly as he heads towards Justin’s office.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - JUSTIN’S OFFICE - DAY

Josh slips into the office and makes a beeline for the computer, pulling out his thumb drive. He’ll just save a copy for himself and listen later. No harm, no foul.

It takes a second to find the files though, because Justin’s computer is a damn mess. So many files are on the desktop, scattered with no rhyme or reason, it has to be a crime. Josh cringes at the disorganization -- and opts not to let himself think too deeply about some of the questionably named folders he glimpses (dudes being dudes, or whatever…) -- before navigating to Google Drive.

He finds the shared folder from Maya, beginning the download. While he’s waiting, he’s surprised to find that according to the data details, Justin hasn’t clicked into this folder at all. If Google is to be believed, Justin hasn’t opened any of the demos on this account.

Well, maybe he listened with Melissa. Or through a different account or device. Something like that. Josh doesn’t dwell on it, too focused on getting out of there with the goods without getting caught even though there is quite literally no one else around to catch him.

Mission accomplished. Once the download is complete, Josh yoinks his thumb drive and makes a break for it, slipping out of the office as if he was never even there.

Melissa, pre-lap: Okay, clearly, there are bare bones here. We’ve got something to start with.

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

As rousing as Melissa sounds as she says that, the reality of their songwriting session isn’t so peachy. Although Maya did scrounge together some creative ideas during her high, in the light of day the three of them seem to be struggling to build anything concrete out of them. The juices still aren’t flowing; the pieces aren’t clicking together.

Part of this is because for whatever reason, Maya still can’t seem to get on the same page as them. Every suggestion she has for how she wants to gear things, they have some sage wisdom that warrants shooting it down. And every time they take a stab at giving it some direction, Maya finds herself averse to it.

Maybe they just need something to grease the wheels as they still find their footing. Justin claims he has just the solution -- the secret sauce that gave Maya her epiphany last night. He’s got some leftover coke from the party, and he at least thinks he could use the pick-me-up. Anyone else game?

Melissa opts in, climbing to her feet from the floor to help him cut the lines. Maya hesitates, uncertain -- she’s not sure she wants to establish the precedent of needing a hit to make a hit -- but it did work so well last time. It loosened her up, and while the three of them are still finding their creative footing, who could it hurt?

Not to mention, it’s another chance to bond, and Maya doesn’t want to pass that up. So she agrees to the little “boost,” coming to join them at the piano and happily accepting a playful elbow nudge from Melissa.

INT. THRIFT SHOP - DAY

Isa and Farkle are up to some mischief of their own, raiding a local neighborhood costume and thrift shop. Isa’s bright idea for bypassing the tabloid scrutiny is simple -- they won’t be themselves today. They’re searching for disguises to adopt new personas for the afternoon, allowing them to traverse the world as someone else entirely.

Presently, Isa is debating which wig to go with, holding out a redheaded and platinum blonde option when Farkle rounds the corner of a rack of clothes and rejoins them. He raises his eyebrows in amusement, having already donned for himself a pair of chunky sunglasses and an absolutely horrendous patterned parachute jacket.

Farkle: The one on the right looks like vintage Lady Gaga. Fame Monster era. Isa: That’s perfect, then. Gotta go with that one.

It is paparazzi they’re punking anyway… Isa puts the red wig back and then switches focus to Farkle, unimpressed by his choices. He still looks exactly like himself, just with an ugly puffy coat. He scoffs.

Farkle: Rude. And I don’t see how it matters -- you’re the one who needs to hide. Not me. Isa: No, that’s where you’re wrong. You’re my associate, so you’re equally as culpable. Farkle: Isa, I swear to God, not one person in the media circus could give less of a shit what a skinny freshman from USC is doing. Isa: It’s the principle of the thing. Honestly, what happened to your flair for theatrics?

If he’s going to insist on being boring, Isa will just make his disguise for him. They take his arm and drag him through the aisles, picking up new elements for the look as they go -- dark-haired curls wig, equally ugly bucket hat. Farkle obediently lets Isa play dress-up, crouching down so they can put the wig and hat on his head and adjust it just right. Then they look him over, temporarily removing the sunglasses and sticking their tongue out as they contemplate… then they decide what is missing, getting the attention of the store owner.

Isa: Do you happen to have a pen?

The owner doesn’t have time to question what the hell they’re up to, freaks, so long as they’re going to pay. They hand over a black pen which Isa takes happily, turning their attention back to Farkle. They take his face in their hands and pull him closer, uncapping the pen and carefully drawing him a brand new beauty mark on his cheek.

Once they’re done, it suddenly hits them how close his face actually is. Centimeters away from theirs, blue eyes looking at them expectantly… is it suddenly hard to breathe in here?

Farkle: Well?

Isa glances at his lips, currently so conveniently close to their level…

Isa: You look like a desperately fashion-challenged Eurotrash tourist.

Farkle cracks up, and shoot, does that smile make Isa’s veins feel like they’re loaded with electricity. To dampen the power, they slip the sunglasses back onto Farkle’s face for him to complete the look -- and spare them from having to look into his eyes any second longer.

All that leaves is for Isa to get their look together, now that they’ve gathered all the pieces. Then they need to hit the town already -- if they’re so styled like gauche European tourists, then they better act the part!

They disappear into the dressing room, flashing Farkle a grin before flicking the curtain closed with a flourish…

Executive, pre-lap: As I’m sure you’re all well aware, a look can make or break an act.

INT. YACHT - LOWER DECK - DAY

By early afternoon, the reason behind Yindra and the other girls’ identical stylings becomes apparent. As they’re all gathered in the lower deck for their next session, the producers introduce a couple of new CONSULTANTS from the label, specifically from the marketing division.

Behind Yindra, Aleena leans over to whisper to Ronica.

Aleena: Aren’t we in the middle of the ocean? How the fuck did they get on the boat? Ronica: Maybe they were hiding here the whole time. Or they snuck them on in the middle of the night. Maybe helicopter. Aleena: Insane. This is some secret society shit.

As for why they’re here… the fun times might be over. If the singing and dancing challenges didn’t feel intimidating enough, strap in, because these consultants are here to chime in on the most brutal aspect of the industry there is -- appearances.

The parts of yourself you really can’t control.

All of the ladies are asked to line up along the wall, then given a number to pin to their shirts. This is to keep things “neutral,” supposedly -- to allow the consultants to speak candidly without having to associate a name (rather, a human being) to their critiques. It feels a bit like some of the early open calls they did for this, when Yindra went for the initial auditions.

Only this time, the judgment is public, for all to hear. And they don’t hold back.

The consultants begin at one end of the row, with Tabitha, having her step forward and give them the chance to circle her. They take her in from every angle, look her up and down, scrutinize every detail.

Consultant A: Bit skinny. Consultant B: True. But a variety of body types would be welcome. Consultant A: Want to avoid the body image criticisms again, though. Consultant B: Well, she’s young. That allows for some leeway. Consultant A: Diversity is good, too. Pretty, but ambiguous, which is a plus.

They speak about her as if she’s not even there. Tabitha keeps her head held high, trying to let it roll off her back and make a good impression, but even she seems a bit stung by the comments.

It continues like this along the row, the consultants making broad snap judgments from a pure marketing perspective -- what will “sell.” What will “look right.” It’s not about the person, but the packaging. As we zoom through the line…

Consultant A: Bit pale. Consultant B: Very round face… Consultant A: Would definitely need to shed a few pounds. Mainly in the hip area. Consultant B: Lip filler would help here. Consultant A: Couldn’t publicize it, though. Consultant B: Very dark skin. Consultant A: Pretty, but not very memorable. Smile? [ a beat ] Okay, nevermind.

Not every participant reacts the same way. Some take it silently, like Aleena, who keeps her expression impressively unreadable as they pick apart her height and debate whether her facial features are “too sharp” or just right. Others take it in stride, like Madysin, who plays into the intrusion like any skilled influencer raised on TikTok would -- she even wiggles her butt a bit as they’re getting a good look, just to prove how unbothered she is.

Others, such as Sloane, don’t go quietly.

Sloane: [ as they’re assessing her physique ] In case anyone forgot, I’m seventeen. [ with bite ] Just a minor reminder…

Not everyone needs to be on defense, though. When it’s Kimmy’s turn, she uncertainly waits while being scrutinized, not projecting any sort of over-confidence. But whatever she’s got in her genes, they seem to love it -- as white and pretty privilege usually affords.

Consultant A: Gorgeous. Consultant B: So pretty. Excellent build. And look at those freckles. Consultant A: Yes, those will sell well. [ to Kimmy ] Are you a natural redhead? Kimmy: Um… yes.

That sounds like exactly what they wanted to hear. A couple producers at the table make notes after that exchange.

By the time they make it to Heather, Yindra next on the row, the relentless commentary towards others has started to feel unbearable. And they’re just as blunt with her.

Consultant B: Quite thin. Look at the collarbones. Consultant A: Yes… pretty face. Nice features. Consultant B: Bit washed out with the hair, though. Consultant A: Hair can be changed. Consultant B: Most things can. We’re looking for minimal expense here.

Heather doesn’t respond, staring straight ahead, but there’s hints in her expression that indicate the criticism might be getting to her. She winces slightly when they continue to pick at her body, clenching her jaw. However, she manages to survive her turn.

Then, Yindra is up. She steps forward as instructed, keeping her expression squared and mentally working to stay calm as they begin their assessment.

Consultant A: Interesting facial features.

Okay… well, suppose that could be good or bad. Yindra keeps her chin up.

Consultant B: Beautiful skin. Consultant A: Though a bit petite. Consultant B: Skinny, for sure.

All right… Yindra forces herself to breathe slowly, not letting it get to her.

Consultant B: We do want variety, though. Consultant A: But variety in the right places. There’s already plenty of thin to go around here.

At that, a few rows down, Ronica -- who is certainly a bit fuller figured -- subtly rolls her eyes.

Consultant A: And with this, there’s really no additional assets to fill it out. Consultant B: That’s true. Very flat.

Okay, for the love of God. Yindra can’t help it -- the snap slips out before she can stop it.

Yindra: Well, as long as my voice isn’t, does it matter?

Oop. The consultants stare at her, surprised to be spoken back to. Down the row, the other girls cast wide-eyed looks in Yindra’s direction. Aleena raises her eyebrows; Tabitha looks like she’s trying not to laugh. At the table, the producers jot some notes of their own.

Well, that’s just swell. Yindra clears her throat and goes silent, but the consultants seem done with her anyway after that little comment. They move on to the next girl, Yindra keeping her gaze straight ahead and trying not to think about all the eyes still lingering on her.

INT. HOSPITAL - CAFETERIA - DAY

Jack has managed to nudge Lucas into the cafeteria, sitting with him at one of the smaller tables with some lunch. He’s doing his best to encourage him to eat, even if he doesn’t think he needs it.

Jack: We don’t want another repeat of Adams. Lucas, tired: I’m not hungry.

This time, unfortunately, it sounds like he means it. This aversion to eating is different than last semester. Stress starvation is one thing, a self-fulfilling prophecy that can only be broken when it’s pointed out how hungry you actually are. Anxiety ambivalence is another beast entirely -- and paired with preemptive grief, no matter how complicated, it’s a hard battle to win. It’s bottomless; it’s base.

Even so, Jack persists.

Jack: Take one bite. All right? You put one forkful in your stomach, I’ll stop hounding you. I swear.

Lucas gives him a look -- yeah, right -- but the request works. He reluctantly stabs a piece of lukewarm cafeteria food and puts it in his mouth, chewing like it’s a chore.

Jack will take it. In an effort to distract him and ideally keep him subconsciously snacking, Jack takes up the brunt of the conversation. He starts to mindlessly talk about what’s going on at the school board, what Lucas has missed since he was dismissed from Evelyn’s office. Lots of boring, bureaucratic stuff, naturally.

But Lucas doesn’t want to talk about that. Catching Jack by surprise, he asks something else entirely.

Lucas: Do you remember when your dad died?

Jack pauses, not sure he heard him correctly. It seems like an unexpectedly vulnerable question for Lucas to ask… but no, it did come out of his mouth. He’s looking right at him, waiting for an answer, so he must’ve heard right.

Jack: It was quite a long time ago. Relatively. But… sure. It’s hard to forget, losing a parent. Lucas: Even if they barely counted? Jack: Yes, even then. [ a beat ] It’s not the same, of course, but I can imagine some of what you’re feeling. The… confusion. When someone doesn’t show up for you the way you’d like, you’d think it would be easy to deal with. That it wouldn’t be so… overwhelming. Or that the feelings about it would at least be straightforward. Lucas: Yeah. Jack: But it’s not. It’s complex. [ a beat ] Rare thing that isn’t. Lucas: What about now?

After all this time? If it was such a long time ago? Jack contemplates the question, trying to choose his words carefully. He knows Lucas is searching for guidance of some kind, probing Jack’s experience for answers to his own that he can’t possibly give him. So all he can offer is the truth.

Jack: It’s less so. With time. Just because… well, life moves on. I’ve moved forward. I’ve got a lot more things to focus on than something I lost over twenty years ago -- you know, like the delinquent slicking my floors with mayonnaise.

Lucas rolls his eyes, but that does manage to earn the shadow of a smile.

Jack: I try to give my father a bit of grace, or at least as much as I can. He wasn’t a great dad, but to be fair, he wasn’t very much there, period. I don’t know how much I did or didn’t know. All I know is that holding onto the resentment, shouldering all those mixed feelings, requires a lot more energy. I didn’t want to walk through the rest of my life with it. So I try to… let it be. Let it rest with him. Again, it’s not an apples to apples comparison here -- my dad wasn’t Kenneth -- but in either case, you can’t control it. You can only control yourself.

It’s complicated, and confusing, and Lucas just has to let himself feel all that. He will have the time to work through it, to decide how he feels, in the days and weeks (and years) that follow. Right now, he just needs to get through it, one day at a time.

Jack: And eat. Eating is important.

Always the self-care with this guy… Lucas begrudgingly takes another bite, though, so mission accomplished.

After another long beat of silence, he speaks again, barely a murmur.

Lucas: I’m scared.

Jack frowns, expression laced with sympathy. Wishing there was more he could do, knowing how fragile Lucas’s confession is in his hands. But he doesn’t have the answers. He can’t make it better. So he does the only thing he can, the thing he’s done since he stuck his neck out and fell down the rabbit hole of Lucas James Friar all those years ago.

He sees him, and meets him in the middle.

Jack: I know.

Sometimes, acknowledgement is all you need. Lucas dips his head down and focuses back on his food, not saying anything further, but the weight on his chest feels a little lighter simply through sharing the load with someone else.

EXT. HOLLYWOOD WALK OF FAME - DAY

The same could be said for Isa, though through much lighter fare. Farkle is helping carry their load as they goof around in their alter ego disguises, currently traversing the Hollywood walk. Isa’s final look really does look Gaga Fame adjacent -- it’s somewhat jarring to see them with such bright hair.

That said, underneath the costumes, it’s still Farkle and Isa, and they’re true to form as they bicker about minute trivia regarding the names on the walk of fame they’re passing. Their energetic debating is enough to catch the attention of the passersby around them… including a PAPARAZZO hanging around on the street corner.

He seems to have been especially caught by Isa. They can’t look away from them, certain that something about them seems familiar… and smells a lot like a potential payout.

Isa notices the lingering gaze, turning away and cursing under the breath. Farkle glances around in concern and Isa tips him off to the pap, evidently frustrated that they might still get clocked even with their silly efforts to be anonymous. Farkle frowns, casting another glance towards the photographer… then he does the only thing he can think of to do.

He starts arguing. Loudly.

Isa stares at him, stunned by his sudden outburst -- and even more confused when they realize he’s not speaking English. Farkle is yapping at them in polished, semi-fluent French, leaning into their “Eurotrash” persona with true theatrical dedication. He peppers in a few English words here and there, just to sell the tourist thing, but for all anyone around them would be able to tell, he’s a pissy Frenchman very irritated with his Eurotrash travel partner.

Farkle: [ in French ] I swear, you don’t know a thing! Absolutely nothing! This is exactly why I didn’t want to come to America. But no, you insisted. “It’s our honeymoon,” you said. [ in “broken” English ] Ha! Honeymoon, indeed!

Well, if they didn’t have the attention of the photographer before, they certainly do now. Isa continues to stare at Farkle, eyes wide, bewildered and a little bit enthralled by his bizarreness.

Isa: What are you doing? Farkle: [ under his breath ] Play along. [ loudly, again, in French ] This is exactly why I told my mother this would never work. So incompatible. The taste you have, it’s just -- ugh!

Well, if there’s one thing Isa can pretend to do well, it’s get into an argument. So although they have no idea what Farkle is up to, they trust him and dive right in, snarking back -- only in Spanish instead. They don’t know what Farkle’s saying, so they make up their own side of the debate.

Isa: [ in Spanish ] Oh, I’m the one who got us lost? You have the navigational prowess of a one-eyed mule! Stubborn as one, too! Farkle: [ in French ] Don’t you take that tone with me. Do you have any idea who my father is? Oh, wait, yes, of course you do -- it was he whomst you asked for my hand in marriage before I entered into this hell of a commitment!

Literally, this whole thing is utter nonsense -- but if you speak neither language, like the paparazzo, then you wouldn’t be able to tell either way. Which is why it’s particularly startling when Farkle suddenly turns to the photographer and addresses him directly.

Farkle: Hey, you. You! There! Paparazzo, unnerved: … who, me? Farkle: Yes. Oui. You have been watching, no? Been listening? Paparazzo: I -- uh -- Farkle: [ in French ] Good. Then you can tell my partner here how utterly wrong they are, because surely you heard as much. Go on, tell them! Isa: [ in Spanish ] No, no, do not listen to him. Whatever he’s telling you, he’s a liar, and a freak. He belongs in an insane asylum. Don’t believe a word he says. Paparazzo: [ deeply uncomfortable ] I -- I don’t speak --

Farkle and Isa continue to talk at him, raising their voices in intensity. After another minute of this, the paparazzo bails, stating he has to go and making a beeline down the street. Farkle and Isa continue to yell after him, shouting nonsense in their dual languages… before making eye contact and descending into hysterical laughter as soon as he’s gone.

Isa: Dude, what the fuck was that? What were you even saying? Farkle: Doesn’t matter. So long as it made him freaked enough to leave, I figured that would do the trick. Isa: You’re insane. I can’t believe that worked. Farkle: [ with a shrug ] I’m really good at making people uncomfortable.

And boy, did those instincts come in handy now. He’s spared Isa another intrusion of privacy… and somehow endeared himself to them even more in the process.

Isa: Well, thanks. For humiliating yourself on my behalf. Farkle: I’d do it any time.

It kind of takes their breath away, how selflessly he throws himself into the line of fire for them. How he doesn’t hesitate to do the wildest thing possible, because that’s how his wacko mind works, but also because it’s for them. He’s creative, and crazy, and Isa is thoroughly convinced there’s no one in the world quite like him.

And if he keeps looking at them like that, sincere and so perfectly Farkle even underneath the disguise, they might do something incredibly stupid. So Isa breaks the moment, offering a smile and lightly punching his arm.

Isa: Come on, I’ve got like three more blocks of trivia to correct you on. Don’t wait up.

Farkle stands still for another beat, mentally stuck in the before. He watches Isa walk away from him, chest light and airy yet burdened with the weight of so many different feelings he doesn’t know where to begin to unpack it all. Happy they’re there; irritated that they seem so unbothered and confident around him when he sure doesn’t. Nervous for reasons he can’t pinpoint, and on edge with some of that tension that used to always exist between them that he didn’t understand. Old buried sensations, ones that once felt inscrutable until they developed into high-definition in his mind, now peeking out through the cracks in his resolve and blossoming anew.

But mainly, he’s grateful. Grateful that Isa is still there -- that in spite of the low tides, and petty fights, and distance physical and emotional, he still gets to call them a best friend. That somehow, they get to spend even one more minute together.

One minute at a time. That’s not a lot to ask. They can work with that.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Next Ten Minutes” as performed by The Last Five Years Original Off-Broadway Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Isa De La Cruz (starting at 00:40)

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

Farkle starts off the intricate duet from where he’s watching Isa ahead of him. The world seems to fade away around them -- like there’s no one else on the crowded, touristy streets of Hollywood. No one else that matters, anyway.

Isa glances over their shoulder at him, offering another smile. Farkle mirrors it, wanting to savor the simplicity of this moment.

For the next ten minutes We can handle that

Then he finishes out the delicate first verse, transitioning around the 1:45 mark…

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Back to the imaginary stage, where Farkle has now descended his acting block and taken center stage under the lights. Except he’s not quite center -- he’s slightly stage right, leaving an empty space opposite him on the other side. Behind him, the others are silhouetted on their blocks as usual, only one more space is vacant than usual.

Farkle’s look here is more true to his eccentric sensibilities, the ones that had been so tamped down in the last semester. He’s wearing shimmery black pants, similar to the ones he wore during his “Not The Boy Next Door” performance all those years ago. But the top half of his ensemble is more subdued, styled more mature -- a loosely fitted black linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and topped off with a pinstriped black vest. To a keen observer of media that has oft been alluded when it comes to these two, it may look like a subtle nod or two stylistically.

More than that, his heart is on his sleeve here. In this space, where only true emotion is allowed, Farkle’s confessing to a lot more than holding out for the next ten minutes. When it comes to Isa, he doesn’t just count the minutes -- he wants it all.

He wants it real.

There are so many lives I want to share with you I will never be complete until I do…

Then the lights dim on him, casting him in slight shadow, as the camera pans… and lights come up on the other side of the stage, where it felt empty before. Isa is there now, taking up the other half of the duet, picking up on Cathy’s very fitting verse. For their ensemble, they seem to also be emulating the slight regency vibes, wearing a black cropped waistcoat. They’ve paired it with high-waisted dark slacks, but all of it is partially obscured by the oversized long coat they’ve donned over top.

The nods continue…

EXT. HOLLYWOOD STREETS - DAY

Isa carries on the internal serenade as we shift back to reality, watching them galavant through Hollywood. They’re still in their silly disguises, but it hardly matters -- all Isa sees is Farkle, mask or no mask, their best friend and closest confidant. The person who baffles them, and gets in their head just as easily as he can pull them out of it.

Farkle says something that makes him crack up at himself, that unabashed grin taking over his features again. The one that hasn’t graced his face much this past semester, that seems to arise so naturally when he’s in the company of his equally eccentric best friend.

I don’t know why people run I don’t know why things fall through I don’t know how anybody survives in this life without someone like you

Isa would do anything for that smile. They know that. And even though all of their instincts always tell them to run, to protect and preserve, they can’t seem to do that with him. They never could.

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Isa launches into the swell of their verse, singing with marked passion as they look out into the darkness.

I want to ease your strife I want to stay by your side

Once Isa hits the end of the phrase, and utters “forever,” the camera begins to ease out and rotate, showing that they’re no longer standing on the left of stage alone. They’re now at center stage, sharing it with Farkle, the two of them standing back to back -- and at the same height, thanks to the acting block Isa has borrowed to keep them on the same level (as they’re usually wont to do).

Then their parts finally meet, overlapping and intertwining as they swap roles. Farkle now takes the Cathy lines while Isa picks up Jamie’s, both building in intensity until they’re belting with everything they’ve got. Behind them, the ensemble fills in some of the soundscape with vocal harmonies emulating the instrumental accompaniment, adding sonic layers to the arrangement.

Once they both make their heartfelt declarations, and Isa utters the first “I do,” they slowly turn to face one another. By the time they’re harmonizing again, they’re face to face, seeing one another for the first time during the duet in this space, and the effect is downright hypnotizing. They’re seeing each other up close and personal, back in this position they’ve seemed to find themselves in so many times before, inches apart and on the precipice of something new. Something dangerous.

Something real.

The two let their vocals float away as they get lost in one another, trapped in that gravity…

EXT. HOLLYWOOD STREETS - DAY

But in reality, just their shared company is enough. While the violin takes over the piano in the arrangement, the two of them get caught in a moment with a safer distance between them, exchanging bashful smiles when they realize they were both looking at one another. Farkle looks away first and takes the lead this time, letting Isa watch him walk away.

One minute -- or ten -- at a time. They can handle that.

That’s enough. 

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Farkle and Isa stay locked in place on stage. Allowing the piano outro to take over, words worthless at this point. Letting the distance between them dwindle away… their lips could nearly graze if they just moved a centimeter…

But the world dims away before anything more, piano tapering off as the lights go down and leave them hidden in the darkness once again.

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - DAY

Jack walks with Lucas back into the waiting area, the two still chatting quietly. By happenstance, they cross paths with Kenneth just as he’s being led back from another hallway where he had diagnostics done, Grace and another nurse helping him make the trek back to his room.

When Jack and Kenneth meet eyes, for a second there’s nothing but shock. Shock on Kenneth’s part to see Jack at all, to allow a former colleague and acquaintance see him like this; shock on Jack’s for exactly that point. Kenneth almost doesn’t look like himself, and it’s been such a long time since Jack last saw him. If he didn’t know all that was going on, he might not even believe it was him.

Once that initial shock wears off, something shifts in Kenneth. For whatever reason, seeing Jack Hunter of all people there, letting him see him in his weakest state, triggers something inside him. A rage he’s been keeping well under wraps, an urge to lash out that only the deepest insecurities can provoke.

Kenneth: Well, look who decided to pay a visit. Came to see me off, Jackson?

His tone is friendly, as much as his fatigued state can manage, but the venom underneath it isn’t that well concealed anymore. Jack can sense the backhanded edge to it, the desire to get a rise out of him -- he’s seen enough of that quality in his own life. Lucas and Grace recognize it instantly, too, the former tensing slightly next to Jack.

Jack tries to ignore the bait, staying professional, but that only makes Kenneth more irate.

Jack, to Lucas: I can come back later, if -- Kenneth: Oh, so you’re not even going to say hello? Am I dead to the world already? Or would you really rather just stand there talking to my son? He’s not much of a conversationalist, you know. Or well, I guess you would know -- you’ve sure spent a bizarre amount of time with him to say so. Grace: Kenneth…

So he clearly wants something from Jack, even if just acknowledgement. Jack takes a deep breath and does his best to maintain his composure, facing Kenneth again. Even with the safe distance between them, the tension is thick. Lucas doesn’t move -- he isn’t sure he can.

Jack: Hi, Kenneth. It’s good to see you up and moving. Kenneth: Oh, don’t talk down to me like that, Hunter. We all know you’re just loving this. Jack: … I would never take joy in -- Nurse: We really can’t be having this kind of behavior in the -- Kenneth: Come on, we don’t have to beat around the bush anymore. I’m dying, remember? Might as well get it all out in the open. You’ve been inserting yourself into my personal business long enough, it’ll probably be a relief when I’m gone and you can just swoop right in to take it all over.

Lucas pipes up before Jack can respond, voice cold with anger.

Lucas: Shut up. Kenneth: Ha! Really? You’re going to tell me to shut up? When I’m in the fucking hospital? Nurse: Okay, that’s enough -- Grace: You’re making a scene… Kenneth: Damn right, I’m making a scene! I don’t want this bastard here while I’m here! I don’t want him anywhere near my people.

Honestly, for a beat, it’s not clear whether Kenneth is talking about Jack or Lucas. But he continues on even as the nurse and Grace continue to nudge him towards the double doors, very obviously not as control of his faculties as he once was.

Kenneth: Hey, isn’t this supposed to be immediate family visitors only? In case you forgot, Hunter, you’re not family!

They manage to pull Kenneth through the doors, removing him from the unexpected confrontation. Now Lucas is fully triggered too, and it looks like he has half a mind to go after him -- also forgetting time and place -- but Jack takes his arm and grips it tightly to hold him in place.

Jack: No. No. It’s not worth it.

Like hell it is. Lucas stays frozen for a second, then pulls his arm away from Jack. He crosses his arms and folds in on himself a bit, retreating back through the archway towards the lobby.

Jack frowns, glancing towards the double doors before going after Lucas.

INT. HOSPITAL - KENNETH’S ROOM - DAY

Once the nurse has gone to get the doctor, Kenneth rounds on Grace instead. It’s hard to tell how much of his illness is talking, at this state of decline, but the filter seems to have flown completely off.

Kenneth: I don’t want that smug son of a bitch anywhere near me -- anywhere near you while we’re here. Did you let him in? Did you ask him to come? Grace: I had no idea Jack was planning to visit. I don’t think it’s so weird that he would. He’s been a big help to Lucas -- Kenneth: [ ignoring the Lucas of it all ] Oh, yeah. I bet you don’t think it’s all that weird. Grace: … what is that supposed to mean? Kenneth: Come on, Grace. I’m dying -- we can take the gloves off.

That sounds like something Grace definitely doesn’t want. She can’t remember a time she would’ve thought the gloves were on with him.

Kenneth: Was he good? Was it worth it? Grace: What are you talking about? Kenneth: How many times did he have you? A couple? A dozen? Lord knows I was out of town enough times to make it easy for you. Grace: [ totally gobsmacked ] Wh -- you think I -- with Jack Hunter? Kenneth: Is it all that ridiculous? It would sure explain why he has such a perverted obsession with our family. I can’t think of any other reason why he’d want to put so much effort into spending any time with Lucas --

Grace literally can’t believe her ears. In an instant, she knows Kenneth is worse than he looks. Something truly is breaking down inside him. He’s always had a hot temper, she’s no stranger to that, and God knows she’s not unfamiliar with his cruelty. But this is a new level of callous -- this is just unhinged.

Remarkably, knowing that, Grace finds it in her to stay together.

Grace: Ken, you’re being hysterical. Kenneth: Me? I’m being hysterical?! Grace: Yes. You’re not thinking clearly. Kenneth: You’re gonna look me in the eye and tell me that, when I just saw that asshole show up here unannounced? Palling around with my fucking kid as if he’s playing stepdaddy? And yet it’s hysterical of me to think -- Grace, firmly: Kenneth, only one of us ever had extramarital affairs.

Grace drops that factoid without flinching, deathly calm, but it works as intended. It stuns Kenneth enough to shut him up. If he ever deluded himself into thinking that she didn’t know, that his hook-ups while out of town on business were so suave and discrete, he’s sorely mistaken.

But she never held it against him. Never brought it up, or threw it in his face, even in all the moments where she could have had every right. It was too dangerous, for one, but also not worth the fight.

And she doesn’t want to hash it out now, when he’s maybe days away from…

Ultimately, the risky move pays off. Kenneth retreats, temper cooling enough to allow him to regain some of his composure. He nods, slowly edging back towards his hospital bed and easing onto it. Catching his breath -- anger takes it out of him these days in a way it never did before.

Kenneth: You’re… sorry. Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.

Grace does. She’s seen that side of him many times before, more than she count. It’s not a brand new discovery, albeit less rational. If a rage like his ever can be rational…

Kenneth looks in her direction, expression softer than before. Tired, and suddenly, appearing that much gentler. Like a flipped switch. He reaches out a hand towards her, tentative, and after a long moment of reservation, Grace lets him pull her back into his orbit.

She always does.

He wraps his arms around her waist, holding her close and resting his head against her torso.

Kenneth: I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I’m sorry. I just… I love you. I don’t want to lose you.

An ending that is now inevitable no matter how the two of them feel about it. Grace places a hand on his head, running her fingers through his hair, but her expression remains blank.

Grace: I know.

INT. YACHT - LOWER DECK - DAY

Unfortunately, Yindra’s string of standout moments only continues that afternoon, and not for the better. They’re back to dance workshop after the brutal physical sessions of the morning, working up a sweat as they perform the routine they learned in small groups of three for the panel. Like an exam of sorts to see how fast they picked it up -- and whether they can carry it at all.

Although Yindra has her training from Adams, it’s her nerves that get in the way. She’s in a group with Tabitha and Sloane, the latter of whom is by far one of the strongest dancers present. So as they step up to do their turn at the run-through, Yindra can’t help but keep glancing her way as they go… which ultimately ends up throwing off her own rhythm. She loses the steps for just a second, and that’s enough to throw her off, sending her knocking into Tabitha before plummeting to the floor in a wipe-out.

Yikes. The rest of the girls gasp, averting their eyes -- though some don’t bother to hide their amusement. Yindra is quick to jump back to her feet, trying not to show her embarrassment, though she is helped by Kimmy rushing over from the sidelines to offer a hand (the only one who does).

Tabitha is already arguing they should be able to start over due to Yindra’s mishap, so in this case, her loud personality does them a favor. Sloane shoots Yindra an irritated look, but doesn’t comment.

Humiliated, Yindra apologizes to the panel then takes her place again to start over. Her hands shake as they wait for the music to restart. Five, six, seven --

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - DAY

Jack and Lucas have returned, the latter seemingly having gotten enough space to calm down. He’s back in the same chair as before while Jack paces the floor.

They both straighten up when Grace emerges from the double doors, coming to join them. She isn’t sure what to say, so she asks Lucas if he’s all right. He nods. From there, Jack takes up the slack.

Jack: I am terribly sorry if I made things worse. It never occurred to me that… suffice to say, I wasn’t expecting to cause a scene. I wouldn’t have come if I thought that might happen. I’m sorry, Grace, truly. Grace: Please, no. You didn’t do anything wrong.

And yet… here they all are. Silence hangs heavy over them, a common side effect of being on the other side of one of Kenneth’s outbursts.

Jack: Even so, perhaps it would be best for me to keep my distance. While things are…

While there’s still a chance for things to get volcanic. Yeah, maybe so. Lucas would be disappointed, but at this point, he’s just tired. Tired, and resigned. Why shouldn’t Kenneth take away another thing that’s important to him while he still has the chance? While the power is still in his hands?

Although she’s reluctant, Grace agrees that’s probably the wisest move for everybody. Jack nods, then offers Lucas a comforting pat on the shoulder. He allows it -- it’s going to have to last him a while.

Jack: But please, if there’s anything, anything I can do for either of you, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m just a text or phone call away.

Grace smiles lightly, nodding a thank you. There’s never been anything between her and Jack, and there never will be, but it sure would be nice to find a man with his kindness.

Jack says goodbye and heads out, leaving Grace and Lucas alone again. She eyes him uncertainly, not sure how to move forward from that outburst earlier -- he keeps his eyes on the floor, trying to mentally block out everything from the last hour.

Opting for quiet, Grace simply settles back down in the chair next to him, mirroring his solemnity. The clock ticks on…

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

And becomes a metronome, dutifully ticking back and forth on the coffee table.

The vibes are much more carefree and mellow at the lake house, because the little hit of coke more than did its job. Maya, Melissa, and Justin are enthusiastically discussing the song they just cranked through on their high, declaring it a massive hit before it’s even a fully fleshed out demo.

Melissa settles onto the armchair and plops a bucket of popcorn on the table for them to share, a munchie snack to celebrate their creative victory. First, Justin raises his glass from where he’s reclined on his elbows on the floor, nodding to Maya.

Justin: A toast, to the most badass little money-making honey in this business right now. Melissa: Hear, hear. Maya: Oh, please. You flatter me. [ flipping her hair ] But do say more.

All of them laugh, and Justin continues to sing Maya’s praises. He has plenty to say, mainly about how she somehow has the full package of beauty, brains, and talent, and concludes that all the above is going to make all three of them very, very rich.

Melissa: The whole world is going to know your name, Maya Hart. No doubt about it. Justin: Hear, fucking hear. Maya: Well, good. That’s exactly what I came here for.

Justin whistles, then digs into the popcorn. Maya looks back and forth between the two of them, the buzz from the high making her far more sentimental than normal. She feels way closer to them now than before, with their shared experiences this weekend, and it’s making her weirdly emotional.

In fact, sitting cozy in that studio with the two of them, it almost feels like a memory. Like she’s been here before -- sharing the warm familiarity of fellow creatives who believe she’s got what it takes.

Maya: Can I say something kinda cheesy?

Melissa nods, stating by all means. Justin gestures grandly to her, offering her the floor. The sentiments slip out before Maya can question them, filter not in so-great shape with the coke dust all over it.

Maya: I just want to say like… I’m super grateful to have met you both. That you took a chance on me. [ in a rush ] This whole experience, coming to L.A., has kind of been this whirlwind of hitting walls and slogging through sludge and people not being who you thought they were. And so I’m so like… glad to have your support. And friendship. That you’re in my corner and we’re gonna get this shit done together. That I’m not doing it alone.

Justin pouts, placing his hand on his heart. Melissa aws, reaching out and squeezing Maya’s arm.

Melissa: Girl, you’re adorable. You’re so welcome. Justin: And believe me, babe, we’re grateful for you. Dare I say, we fucking love you.

That’s all Maya wants to hear. She didn’t realize how much she needed it. She grins, laughing in spite of herself, then raises her glass in cheers when Melissa prompts another preemptive toast to their pop successes to come.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - STUDY - DAY

Even though the problem child is gone -- literally -- it seems the gossip media is continuing to have their field day with the MacNamara story. This is a particularly frustrating development for SYDNEY NGUYEN, who is still tag-teaming with the publicist to battle back click-bait and salacious inquiries left and right. It’s the most overwhelming era she’s ever dealt with in her time as an assistant, and it clearly has her frazzled.

Zachary pops into the study to check on her, bringing a cup of iced tea. She takes it gratefully, immediately taking a sip.

Zachary: I know I can’t say it many more times without it losing meaning, but I truly am sorry. I would never have wished this workload upon you. Sydney: Please. I’m fine. And it’s not like it’s your fault.

Even so. Suffice to say, none of them really expected a welcome to springtime quite like this, did they? Especially given it doesn’t seem likely to ebb any time soon -- least of all while leakers are still on the loose. Sydney sighs.

Sydney: Yeah. I guess I thought it would have died down by now. Zachary: Valerie would’ve never claimed that. She loved the drama, but she had a sixth sense for it, too. She wouldn’t have let us drop our guards. Sydney: Well, she’s not you. [ true enough ] I thought that when Isa left, it would die down. When I told them to go, I -- Zachary: Wait, what?

When she what? Sydney lifts their gaze to look at him, suddenly realizing what she just said. She clears her throat, straightening up.

Sydney: I may have made the suggestion to Isa that it would be wise for them to leave. While all this chaos was going on. Zachary, stunned: … you did what? Sydney: Their presence was creating so much attention. I know how much you dislike that scrutiny. It all started when they showed up, so I just thought -- Zachary: You thought it was a good idea to tell one of my children to leave? To get out of my life? Sydney: They’re not exactly the same. It’s not like Louis, or Milo -- Zachary: That’s damn well not your place to determine. Isa is my family, whether people like it or not. And not ever, ever, would have I agreed that telling them to get out was a good idea!

Zachary has never raised his voice at her like this before. He’s never gotten emotional like this, so she knows she fucked up. Sydney takes the beratement, dipping her head down. She chews the inside of her cheek to keep her cool, blinking back the tears that spring to her eyes.

But Zachary isn’t an anger guy, and the flare up doesn’t last long. It’s not a pleasant experience seeing her get upset either, regardless of how warranted his disappointment might be.

Sydney: I didn’t want you all to keep getting hurt. You’re like -- it’s family to me too.

She wanted to protect him. She thought she was protecting him. Zachary sighs, rubbing his face.

Zachary: I understand where you were coming from. But this is my life. You’re my assistant, not my life coach. These are decisions I have to make for my family. Please do not ever interfere in my personal life like that again.

Sydney nods. After all this, she definitely wasn’t planning on it.

Sydney, soft: I’m sorry. Zachary: I know you are.

In the next moment, Ruby pokes her head in. Her eyes are bright with discovery -- and a hint of urgency.

Ruby: Babe. They found something.

Sydney and Zachary exchange a look, then quickly follow Ruby out of the office.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY

The three of them rejoin the boys and the PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR they hired, who is running through their findings. Apparently, she’s managed to track down the source of the initial leak.

P.I.: The man in question is a Mister Gregory Schultz. Ruby, pointedly: One of the teachers in Milo’s grade.

Lord knows teachers are severely underpaid and could use a quick buck… not to mention Milo openly said he was telling everyone he knew how excited he was to have a new sibling. Once it’s put out there, the theory makes perfect sense. Zachary curses under his breath, while Sydney shakes her head.

Milo, predictably, is in absolute dismay over this. Tears are streaming down his face.

Milo: It’s my fault! It’s all my fault!

Ruby immediately goes to comfort him, wrapping him in a hug and reassuring him it’s not. Sydney quietly excuses herself, giving the family privacy. The private investigator does offer one silver lining, though -- the call wasn’t coming from inside the house. They can rule out problems within their own unit.

P.I.: So long as you can hold together, in my experience, you’ll be able to weather this until it blows over.

That is, if everyone can come together… Louis drops his head to the floor, sheepish and feeling guilty. Zachary glances at him, but doesn’t comment. Ruby looks to her husband, still hugging her youngest. Now that this mystery is solved…

Ruby: Think it may be time to try reaching out to Isa again?

Zachary contemplates that, holding her gaze.

INT. HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - DAY

After his outburst, a nurse has pulled Lucas and Grace aside in the hall outside Kenneth’s room. She’s taking care to reassure them that this behavior, while jarring, isn’t out of the ordinary with patients who are in deteriorating health. Their emotional and mental faculties aren’t as strong as they once were, and with all the gravity of mortality hanging over them, they may be more prone to outbursts such as what they just witnessed.

Nurse: We know it can be quite alarming to see someone you love behave in a way that is so out of character, so we just wanted to provide you that assurance. It’s entirely normal for mood to fluctuate this way.

Lucas and Grace nod along, keeping their expressions neutral. But on the contrary, they’re not strangers to how violently Kenneth’s mood can change -- the cancer has nothing to do with that.

INT. YACHT - PRIVACY BOOTH - DAY

Yindra has taken refuge in the privacy booth on their break, stealing a slot of time to use the phone and call for back-up. It seems she’s chosen Nigel as the receptacle for dumping her trauma, regaling him with all of the oddities of the trip thus far before spiraling into recounting how she shot her mouth off during the morning session before completely wiping out during dance.

Nigel: I mean, I don’t blame you. That session sounds insane. I would’ve said something too. Yindra: Bitch. No you would not have.  Nigel: You’re right, I wouldn’t have. But I’m chronically and certifiably a wimp. Zay would’ve. Maya would’ve. Those in your rank would’ve asserted themselves too. Yindra: Not when the stakes are this high. Nigel: You’ve only been gone a few weeks. You can’t have already forgotten how sassy Zay is. Besides, maybe that’ll reflect well on you. Yindra: How? Nigel: Shows your personality. That you don’t take shit. That you have integrity. Yindra: All qualities in such high demand out here. I don’t think they want to work with a back-talker. And how does that save my ass from flopping during dance? Nigel: Everyone makes mistakes. Even the best. Yindra: Of which I am not! Nigel: Girl, you gotta chill. What do you want from me? Yindra, desperate: HELP ME!

Nigel raises his hand in surrender. He reminds her to take a deep breath, as that is the first step to stop her from going full panic mode.

Nigel: You are already more than halfway through this thing. You’ve made mistakes, but I bet you’ve made good impressions, too. Everyone there is no better than you. You’re all just giving this your best shot. Yindra: Uh-huh. Nigel: You know you have people in your corner that believe in you -- including the manager who got you there in the first place. This is not the end all be all. And besides, you remember why you’re there, right? Yindra: An exercise in psychological torture? Nigel: To sing. You haven’t done the solo vocal part yet, right? Let’s be honest, that’s all that matters. You can dance, and you’re pretty as they come, but no one can sing like you. That’s what you were made for. Just give yourself the chance to show them that, and they’ll see.

Everything else is just a footnote. Yindra nods, taking a deep breath and letting Nigel’s soft pep talk work its magic. She nods along and then thanks him.

Yindra: And sorry I yelled at you from a yacht in the middle of the Pacific three-thousand miles away. Nigel: All good. I figure that’s probably just the rest of our lives at this point.

In any case, she just has to get through a couple more days. She can do it. And if she ends up on the ledge -- or suppose in this case, the yacht rail -- again, they’re all only a phone call away.

With that, there’s nothing more to say but good luck.

Nigel: Just keep your head held high. You know we’re all rooting for you.

That she does. Whatever happens, she’s lucky to have a family of sorts in her corner -- regardless of how quirky and dysfunctional it may be at times. She inhales a deep breath, nodding.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT

The same conceit carries over to Zay’s conversation with Riley, who he’s catching up with briefly on the phone. She’s given him the update on everything going on with Lucas, which is a lot to juggle on top of her show commitments.

Even so, she wanted to make sure she had the chance to wish him the best of luck before his audition. Zay thanks her.

Zay: And look… I mean, if there’s anything I can do. You know, for Lucas -- for y’all. Just hit me up.

He may have his moments, and Lucas isn’t his favorite person, but same metric applies. They’re family, in some weird, convoluted way.

Once they hang up, OMAR BABINEAUX enters the kitchen to start cooking dinner. He admits he’s surprised to even see Zay hanging around -- he figured with the audition right around the corner, he’d be off getting every second of practice in he could.

Zay: Well, I’m trying to not run myself into the ground this time. So I’m making a concerted effort not to throw myself into chaos right before the big day. Omar: Wow. How mature of you. Look at that, I guess you just might be growing up after all.

Ha ha ha. Zay rolls his eyes. In all seriousness, though, Omar in his understated, quiet way, takes the opportunity to ask Zay how he’s feeling about the whole thing. Does he feel ready for it?

Zay: To be honest, I think I’m numb at this point. I don’t really feel much of anything. Which I guess is better than abject terror, so I’ll take it. Omar: I know how hard you’ve worked for this. All the effort you’ve put in this semester. [ a beat ] I just hope you recognize that regardless of what happens, your mom and I are damn proud of you. You know that? Whether you’re dancing at that school or on Broadway or even just in our garage, that doesn’t matter to me. You’ve made me proud a thousand times over.

Zay did know that. He’s fortunate enough to have never had to doubt that, to have always had two parents committed to his success and there to prop him up no matter what ambition he was chasing that day or what secrets he was not-so-skillfully hiding from them. He knows, all too well, just how lucky he is.

Still, it’s nice to hear it. He smiles lightly.

Zay: Yeah. Thanks, dad.

Omar mirrors the smile, reaching over and giving him a pat on the shoulder.

INT. JOHNSON HOME - VANESSA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Vanessa doesn’t have nearly the same support at home… but that doesn’t mean she’s entirely on her own. She comes back into her room from the shower, comfortable robe on, only to discover she’s received a couple of texts in her absence.

One from Nigel, the other from Riley. Both of them extending good luck wishes for tomorrow, even though there’s zero likelihood they aren’t rooting for Zay to get a spot. Offering good vibes and reassurances, even though there’s absolutely no reason for them to do so. They gain nothing from the kindness. They’re hardly friends without Zay as the buffer between them.

Or maybe not. Maybe she did leave enough of an impression on her own to win their affections. Maybe there is more to their budding friendships than just being the girlfriend.

No way to know for sure, unless and until that label changes, and that possibility seems more and more prevalent these days. But the messages make Vanessa grow warm in spite of the skepticism.

INT. YACHT - YINDRA’S ROOM - DAY

Already exhausted with the day even with Nigel’s pep talk, Yindra is more than ready to crash the moment she steps inside her room.

She doesn’t get that luxury. Instead, she finds Heather curled up on the floor against the base of her bed, hyperventilating. In fact, barely that -- at first glance, it sounds like she’s choking, like she isn’t breathing at all.

Yindra: Oh my God. Heather?

Yindra drops down to her knees in front of her roommate, trying to figure out what’s wrong. Heather is almost unresponsive at first, simply shaking her head and keeping her arms locked tight around her knees. Yindra tries to get her to speak, to tell her what’s going on, but it’s like the power of speech has left her.

Until it hasn’t. Suddenly, Heather snaps and ducks her head into her knees, letting out a strangled scream. Yindra jumps, startled, backing off a bit.

Heather: I can’t do it. I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t -- Yindra: Yes, you can. Heather, you’ve done great so far -- Heather: No! No! I can’t! I can’t!

Yindra is at a total loss for what to do. She tells Heather she’s going to get help, leaving her with her head tucked into her knees.

This isn’t just audition stress. This is something different -- like a full-on nervous breakdown.

INT. HOSPITAL - INNER HALLWAY - NIGHT

Grace and Lucas are both hanging just outside Kenneth’s room, debating whether or not to go in and say goodnight. He seems to have calmed somewhat throughout the early evening, and he seemed downright exhausted, so it might just be disturbing him. The nurses are in there with him now, so supposedly, they’ll give them the best opinion.

Any illusions of Kenneth being peacefully at rest are thrown out the window a second later, when there’s a loud clatter from the other side of the door.

Kenneth: Ow! Jesus, what kind of nurse are you? You call that nursing?

Uh-oh. Grace and Lucas exchange a wide-eyed look.

INT. HOSPITAL - KENNETH’S ROOM - NIGHT

They dash into the room moments later, in time to bear witness to Kenneth throwing a full-on, adult temper tantrum. It’s kind of impressive he even has the energy for it, given his decline, but it seems the exhaustion and anger at the situation have coalesced into the perfect irritant cocktail. He doesn’t have the bandwidth to even pretend to be charming anymore, verbally sparring with the nurses and patience level basically below zero.

The nurse he first yelled at picks up the materials they dropped and flees the room in an instant, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy. The other, more experienced nurse hangs around and tries to calm him, but it doesn’t seem to be doing much good. He is in hysterics now, and it’s manifesting as aggression.

Lucas can only stare, stunned to see his father acting this way in public, but Grace isn’t fazed. She does what the nurse can’t, brave enough to step into the fray and encourage Kenneth to calm down. He’s just as volatile with her, but she’s a veteran at this point.

The nurse claims she’s going to request sedation to calm him, stepping out of the room. Lucas watches them go, not thrilled with the idea of being left alone without supervision -- not that that seems to make any difference anymore.

Grace remains solely focused on Kenneth. Trying to keep him from doing any additional damage, to himself or anything else. She reaches out to hold him steady and he slaps her hand away without a second thought, but she isn’t deterred. Even as he wriggles away, she locks her arms around his shoulders and holds him in a tight embrace.

Grace: Kenneth. Stop. Stop fighting. Please.

For some bizarre reason -- when it’s sure never made a difference before -- her words work. It’s like all the fire just zaps out of him, leaving nothing but the pure debilitation of his failing body in its place.

Then, Kenneth starts to sob. Wretched, full-body sobs, the last expression of despair from a dying man who doesn’t have the fight in him anymore. The fight that kept him going, that kept him in control, for as long as he can remember.

Kenneth: I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die. Grace: Shh. I know. I know. Kenneth: I don’t -- [ in agony ] I’m not ready to die.

Lucas is frozen in place, unable to look away. Unable to process that his father, the six-foot brute who always commanded a room and never, ever showed weakness, has been reduced to this. Crying in the arms of the woman he claimed he loved but was incapable of loving right, letting her carry his emotional baggage right up to the end.

It doesn’t feel real. This isn’t real. Dissociative and numb, Lucas forces himself to look away and exits the room, desperate to be anywhere but here.

Grace continues to comfort Kenneth, gently shushing him and rocking them lightly as Riley’s fragile vocals float in…

INT. NYU - THEATER - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “With You” as performed by Ghost: The Musical Original Cast Recording || Performed by Riley Matthews

Riley is in the midst of another performance, just getting into one of her first big emotional ballads of the night. And it’s in that light, from that perspective, that her casting in the leading role suddenly makes perfect sense. She’s talented regardless, but it’s the relentlessly evocative ability to emote through song that equipped Riley for this role.

She finishes the first verse and chorus under the spotlights of the NYU stage, eyes shimmering, then as the piano line descends --

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

We’re back in that pseudo-Adams stage, only this time it’s Riley front and center. The rest of the ensemble are still on their acting blocks, but they stay cast in shadow -- no harmonizing this time around. Riley’s block is obviously empty, but the front and center one next to hers also continues to remain unoccupied. Her new signature look is a flowy high-low but simple dress, over which she’s wearing an oversized (and perhaps vaguely familiar) black flannel shirt.

The performance continues intercut between the two stages, her vocals building in intensity as she rails into the bridge. And when she dives in, damn, does she deliver. If anyone had any doubts about her earning the role, hopefully this performance will prove them wrong.

Riley is even more compelling in the faux stage than the real one, because there’s no acting going on here. The performances in this space are raw, unfiltered, and Riley adheres to that challenge without question. It’s remarkable, given there’s not necessarily any real lived experience she’s pulling from to channel it. She’s never lost a loved one to a botched robbery -- she’s never yet had to fathom losing someone to the point of no return.

But maybe it doesn’t take living it to express it. Perhaps, the sheer fear of it is enough.

I can't comprehend this and pretend that I don't care Any place I wanna be I wanna see you there

When she finishes the last note of the bridge, the screen temporarily goes dark, allowing her wish to echo in the emptiness.

INT. NYU - THEATER - NIGHT

When the lights come back up, it’s with NYU Riley first, delivering the first of the last two lines in the song with teary eyes and delicate vibrato.

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

And the same when Riley lets out the final line on the other stage, voice a breath away from cracking. Behind her, that front and center acting block remains hauntingly vacant.

You took my world with you…

INT. HOSPITAL - KENNETH’S ROOM - NIGHT

As the piano notes gently conclude the performance, we’re back with Grace. Eyes glossy with unshed tears of her own, still holding Kenneth close as he tires himself out.

INT. HOSPITAL - INNER HALLWAY - NIGHT

Lucas is wandering aimlessly, frantically moving through the hospital with no set destination. He just knows he has to get away. Far, far away.

He’s not having an easy time of it, though. He’s perpetually in the way, trying to duck away from doctors and nurses who aren’t paying him any attention, and he feels a little unsteady on his feet. His chest hurts, that same way as before, the last time he ended up in a hospital against his wishes.

He’s gonna be sick. Oh, he’s gonna be sick. He stumbles through another set of double doors --

INT. HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - NIGHT

And somehow makes it out into the halls of the greater hospital, which in theory would somehow lead back to the waiting area if he had any idea where he was. In this case, he gets lucky, because he unsteadily marches through a corridor just as Asher arrives at the other end, arriving for his turn at keeping him company.

Asher: Lucas?

Lucas doesn’t answer him. He keeps walking, going nowhere, but his legs aren’t working right. They betray him, going weak and making his head spin. He stumbles and hits the wall.

Asher is on the move in an instant. He sprints down the hall the rest of the way to catch up to him, sliding to a stop at his side and grabbing his arm to hold him steady.

Asher: Hey. Hey, hey, hey. What’s -- ? Lucas: I -- I can’t --

Lucas shakes his head, still losing grip. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

His limbs give way and he slips down along the wall, collapsing into a sitting position. Asher drops down with him without a second thought, gripping his knees and trying to ground him. Trying to get him to talk to him. But Lucas doesn’t have words right now -- he barely has air. He’s hyperventilating, unable to catch his breath.

Panic attack. Major panic attack. Asher knows it all too well.

Asher: Lucas. Lucas, look at me. It’s okay. You’re okay. Lucas --

Asher reaches up and takes Lucas’s face in his hands, lifting his head so he’ll look at him. He does, still panting, green eyes wide.

Asher: Look at me, okay? We’re gonna breathe. Lucas: I can’t -- Asher: Yes, you can. Breathe with me, okay? Nice and slow. Breathe in…

Asher demonstrates, Lucas shakily following his lead. He has him breathe in, then hold it, holding up one of his hands to countdown the seconds with his fingers. Then they exhale, fragile as Lucas’s might be.

Asher: Good. Again. Okay? In…

This time, Lucas does it alone, but Asher nods along, counting out loud this time. Then out. One, two, three, in… one, two, three, out…

The two of them stay like that, counting their breaths, Asher right by his side. Not going anywhere. As long as it takes.

One, two, three, in…

END OF PART 1.

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

[scifrey]

10 Stories/10 First Lines meme

Stolen from @moorishflower; tagging @once-upon-a-reblog and @merindab

So the rules are: post the first lines of your 10 most recently published AO3 stories.

Listing from Newest to Oldest:

1.CLING FAST (The Sandman): "One hundred years, then?" Hob's Stranger asks, hours later, when Hob's talked himself hoarse.

2.FORGIVE (Loki, part 5 of the Rovai-verse): “Heimdall,” Loki says, softly, tentatively.  Beside him, on the balcony of their hotel room, Mobius wraps his arms around Loki’s waist so they aren’t accidentally separated in the Bifront tunnel. He gives Loki a reassuring squeeze. “I’m ready to come home. If… if you’ll have me back.”

3.FLIRT (Loki, part 4 of the Rovai-verse): Mobius M. Mobius turns out to be Johnathan “Jack” Jackson, born in southern Texas. 

4.FIGHT (Loki, part 3 of the Rovai-verse): It’s not until it’s all over, and he’s pressing magic and pleas into the gaping wound on the human’s abdomen, that Loki even realizes that he’s been sealed into his own impenetrable multiverse with the wrong Mobius. 5.FOLD (Loki, part 2 of the Rovai-verse): The biting cold is too intense after the terrible, tortuous heat. Though he is wearing his Jotun skin, Loki is shivering hard enough to judder the human pressed up against his side by the time they walk the several meters from the portalway to the shepherd’s hut. The human’s not faring much better, here on the dark side of Jotunheim. His teeth are chattering so hard Loki can actually hear them above his own. 6.FALL (Loki, part 1 of the Rovai-verse): Falling. That’s what he dreams about most. His father said no, Loki -- the man whom he had called father -- the man who had told him he was destined to be a great king -- Had those words been for me? Or just Thor? -- the man whose radiance he’d only experienced second hand, clutching at the penumbra of Odin’s favouritism of his golden ( biological ) son-- he’d said no, Loki  scolding him like a naughty puppy when he was the one who had told them the stories about conquest and destroying dark creatures, he was the one who had called the Frost Giants evil and monstrous, knowing, knowing that he was looking one in the face and--Either way, Loki had fallen for it. 7.TO A STRANGER (Sherlock / Performance in a Leading Role by @madlori):

INT. PRINCESS MARGARET CANCER CENTRE - A HALLWAY. DAY. MARK - a man in his late 30s who is, on the surface, entirely unremarkable - is waiting on a bench in the starkly-lit hallway of the hospital. His brother is in surgery. Mark is miserably, weightily weary. He looks like he hasn't shaved in a few days, his boring hair is unkempt from his fretting, and his clothes, while of good quality, are rumpled. He is on the far left of the frame, seated alone, knees together, hands on his thighs, looking straight ahead. The frame is empty of anyone save him.

8. The Heart of the TARDIS (Doctor Who):

INT. THE TARDIS, WARDROBE. MORNING. Open on THE DOCTOR, standing in the TARDIS' clothing closet (from "The Christmas Invasion"). With a nostalgic, almost melancholy air, he is picking through the wardrobe, fondling the sleeves of coats, the frills of scarves, trying on hats, smelling jackets too feminine to ever have been his. MARTHA JONES enters the closet, holding two mugs of steaming tea with the tags hanging over the edge of the mugs. She stops on the ramp, watching him with a fond smile.

9. THE DRIVER (Captain America / British Royalty RPF):

What?” Dum Dum asked, prodding his seatmate in the ribs with his meaty elbow for the umpteenth time. “Seriously, Falsy, what?”

10. THE ONCE AND FUTURE KINGDOM (Merlin / Stargate: Atlantis):

There was a time, Myrddin mused, that he would have been inclined to reach out to the horizon and murmur a soft spell, just to make the sun linger a few seconds longer on the horizon, just to treasure the rich red hues and the marvelous indigo that spread like an exhaled stain across the tops of the far mountains.

[earthmoongirl]

SuperHeroism isn’t exactly the given that everyone assumes it is. I mean, think about it. Not every star athlete becomes a soldier or a police officer. Not every genius becomes a doctor. People have talents and they do what they like with them. But you have one little parlor trick, and suddenly everyone expects you to go off saving the world.

Saving the world isn’t what people think it is either. Imagine you can fly, and, what the heck, we’ll throw in some fire breath too just for the sake of things. You turn on the news to discover that a 100-foot-tall robot is decimating New York. First, you’d have to get there, but you live in Singapore. So you buy a plane ticket and fly into Boston (because obviously all the New York airports are closed.) By this point you’re probably hungry, so you need to have some money with you, not to mention your passport. And you’ll probably need a change of clothes, all of which means you have a bag with you. More on that later. Now you finally get someone to drive you to New York and you rush down the city streets towards wherever the screams are the loudest. Depending on the current political situation, you’ll either find the Hero League giving orders to the army, or the army desperately attempting to give orders to the Hero League. You try to get some idea of what is going on (by now it’s been at least 16 hours since the robot first appeared) but your English doesn’t go very far beyond “Where is the bathroom?” and Beyonce lyrics.

You finally find the robot, who is now focused on toppling over the Statue of Liberty, and you’re ready to go. Where do you put your bag? I mean, it has your passport in it. You can’t just dump it in the street! But you can’t exactly carry it around in a fight, so that’s exactly what you do. You fly off towards the robot and suddenly realize you have no idea what you’re doing. You’ve never fought a giant robot before. You’ve never fought anyone before, except for the occasional catfight with your older sister back in pre-school days. Also, you’re not exactly bulletproof. Or in shape.

So let’s say that despite your mediocre understanding of battle strategy, your appalling venerability to robot-launched missiles, and your cramping muscles, you take down the robot. Now what? You leave? People are trapped under rubble. Skyscrapers need to be rebuilt. The New York economy is completely devastated, and public transportation will be halted for months. You realize it’s been eight hours since you’ve last eaten and 20? 15? too many hours since you last slept. You had an energy drink in the bag! Where is it? Ah. Underneath a tank that is underneath what used to be an apartment building.

Yeah. Not so simple, is it? Thing is, once people learn that you’re “super” and also not a card-carrying member of the Hero League, they assume you’re a villain.

Being a villain is not so easy either. I mean, any Jack or Jill can murder their neighbor or commit credit card fraud. But to be a real villain you have to do something BIG. Something like, say, building a giant robot to decimate New York City. Well, surprise, dummy! Fire breath and flight don’t do anything to increase your understanding of mechanical engineering.

All that to say, I live my life like any other normal person. I complained about algebra in high school. I worked night shifts at Ben and Jerry’s to pay way through grad school. I go for walks along the beach in the morning and get drinks with my friends in the evenings. I fall in love, I go grocery shopping, I call my mom, I pay my taxes, I fall out of love, I hit snooze on my alarm clock. Beyond the occasional suspicious glare I get for being an unaligned super, nobody really cares. The truth is, if you haven’t either saved the world or tried to end it, the Hero League and the Apocalypse Core will never so much as notice you. Normally.

The first time they tried to contact me, the Hero League sent Sr. Viper to meet me in my home. That was certainly a man’s idea. Girl walks into her city apartment to find a strange guy in her kitchen? I dropped him in the middle of the San Fransisco Sheriff's office and made a note to change the locks. The Apocalypse Core was far more respectful. They sent a beautifully calligraphed letter which politely threatened me to join their ranks. I appreciated that they hadn’t broken into my home, but I still wasn’t thrilled at the idea that the two most powerful (and frankly, unhinged) organizations in the world knew my address.

The Dark Thief sat next to me in a crowded cafe and gave his best sales pitch. I smiled and took the brochure and then threw it in the nearest trash bin. GoblinGirl left an envelope in my mailbox in an impressive attempt at bribery. I bought myself a new security system with the money. This went on for a couple of months. It was annoying, and a little awkward at times, but at the time I had bigger things to worry about - my Anthro 740 class being the main one. At first, I couldn’t really see why they cared so much. I mean my power was unique, yeah, but it’s not like I’d invented the hydrogen bomb or anything. I just assumed this was some kind of new recruiting program. But then The Goo said to me during a Tuesday afternoon bus ride, and it finally clicked. “Ms. Hassan, You could send the president to Mars!” He’d gurgled excitedly. I had never really thought about my power being useful for anything more than finding lost pens or getting cats down from trees. A whole world of possibilities opened up to me. At one point I legitimately considered joining. One C- on a midterm later and I had sobered up.

It was right around then that things started to escalate. The Hero League managed to kidnap me. Something with sleeping gas in the central air, I think. Somewhere in the middle of the Nevada desert, there is now a large metal door and a portion of brick wall. I moved in with some friends pretty quickly after that. But it was the Apocalypse Core that piled on the last straw. They kidnapped my grandma. My Grandma! I was not happy. When I returned home the next day, Grandma was safely returned to the nursing home, and the Core’s headquarters was spread along the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Oh, and I still aced my final exams.

After that, both groups gave me some space. The Hero League sent me a half-hearted email about getting revenge, but I think we both knew I was past that. The media, on the other hand…. destroying the CoreCave was a bigger deal than I had considered. The previously secret location of the volcanic island-turned-evil liar had been the center of a worldwide search for years. And then some 23-year-old single-handedly destroys the whole thing? Whoops. I guess some satellite camera picked me up and before long my picture was everywhere. “The Summoner!” headlines shouted. Reporters swarmed the apartment. Children gawked at me as their parents pulled them hurriedly to the other side of the street. Thank goodness my friends were so supportive because the media made their lives hell too. When I was home, people knew to stay on the sidewalk or they would be put behind the sidewalk. But when I was out, my roommates told me, it was like navigating a mosh pit just to get to the door. After some very expensive cameras mysteriously disappeared and one particularly obnoxious columnist returned from an unexpected trip to Alaska, the hubbub died down. That’s when I discovered: the only people on the planet more stubborn than Supers? Reporters.

A new “student” joined my summer research group. She seemed to know a lot more about me than about avian fossils. A kind barista chatted away with me while they made me free coffee, only for me to catch them jotting down notes from our conversation. Too late I realized that one of the regulars on my morning route was actually just following me. That was a pretty creepy article to read. Besides the barrage of reporters, I found other aspects of life had changed weirdly. My follow requests, for one. But mostly, people were scared. I was this powerful person who did a good thing but still wouldn’t become one of the “good guys,” and no one knew what to make of that. I think the general consensus was that I was a “villain gone rogue.” By then I’d stopped following the news. Once, I entered a coffee shop and eight people walked out without getting their drinks. I know because I watched as eight coffees were put out, one by one, on the counter. Each one grew cold. I was in a pretty dark place that summer. I stopped using my powers altogether. For the first time in my life, I lost my keys. I experienced the torture of getting up off the couch to grab the remote on the opposite side of the room. Mr. Huang, who owned the corner store under my old apartment, was dumbfounded when I walked in one morning and purchased milk.

“I’m still happy with our deal!” He insisted. “Anytime you want. You’re my best customer.”

“I know Mr. Huang,” I told him as I checked out. “I just felt like getting it myself today.”

By July, things had only gotten worse. The Evil had launched an attack on the Russian Embassy in the US, hoping to manipulate political tensions and extort some money in the process. The Hero League sent the Junior Wonder and Fizz. I’m not sure what went wrong, but Junior Wonder was killed in the fight. The Evil was expelled from the Apocalypse Core and sent to a high-security prison, but that wasn’t enough for the League. Sr. Viper gave a speech at the funeral, and although he didn’t say it directly, he gave a strong impression that had The Summoner stepped up and done the right thing, Junior’s death could have been avoided. A low blow, but the media ran with it.

I now know that while I was having the summer from my nightmares, my roommates were having the time of their lives. At the time, I was only aware of how kind and patient they were being with me. I was grateful, but I didn’t fully understand all that they were doing for me. As they later explained, it all started on the 27th of May. Caroline, normally the responsible roommate who pays the bills and cleans out the fridge, threw caution to the wind when the third reporter of the day asked her for a statement. She told the reporter, among other things, that I was the clone of the last member of an ancient alien species, which could be verified by talking to the seventh direct descendant of George Washington. Ridiculous, I know, but when the article came out the three of them thought it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. So they took that idea and ran with it. Their stories became more elaborate but also more believable, each designed to send the reporter on a wild goose chase. Jez managed to convince an entire team from the BBC to spend three weeks searching for gold dust in the Australian Outback. I don’t think even Jez knows how he managed that. With every story they sold, they used the money to do little things for me. They stocked the pantry with my favorite snacks and secretly added money to my bus card.

Priya was the one who noticed when I stopped using my power. She’d known me the longest and was the first to invite me to move in. She considered asking me about it, but Jez had a better idea.

“Let’s see if we can get her to change her own mind.” Mostly I think they just found it funny. They bought double-stuffed Oreos and put them on the highest shelf. They would ask me to buy eggs or coffee and then pause mid-sentence with a sad sigh and a shake of their head.

“Don’t worry about helping me,” Caroline said once. That one stung.

And every morning they had a competition as to who could move my keys to the most ridiculous place, without me noticing they’d been moved. Basically, they just annoyed me into embracing my powers.

So when July rolled around, my roommates were concerned about me, but they were also excited to enact more shenanigans. One Saturday morning, while pouring myself a third bowl of cereal, Priya drew my attention to the TV.

“Liz, Isn’t that the guy who tried to barricade our front door?” On the screen, a middle-aged reporter with a familiar greasy over-comb was chittering away about an ex-senator. I agreed that it was. “He’s a little off-center, don’t you think? He needs to be moved about six inches to the left.” She looked up at me expectantly. “What do you say?” I whipped milk off my chin and returned her mischievous smile. In the blink of an eye, the newsagent disappeared and reappeared again every so slightly to the left. In an outstanding effort in professionalism, he barely even stuttered, but the look on his face was enough to turn us into giggling fools.

“No, no. To his left. Move him six inches to his left.” Once again he blinked out of view for a millisecond, before returning to view not quite where he had been standing a second ago. This time he stopped talking just long enough to rub his eyes in disbelief. A fit of laughter ensued once more.

“Yes, but now— now—,” Caroline could barely get the words out. “Now you’ve just moved him back to where he originally was.” Blink, blink. He was perfectly centered and utterly speechless. He seemed to be looking at someone off-camera for a while before he finally recovered himself.

“It appears we are having some technical difficulties. We will return to Whitehouse News after the break.”

We both fell off the couch.

By the time Jez had returned from Temple and Priya got back from brunch, Caroline and I were almost peeing ourselves with laughter. From then on, any reporter we could find saying anything about me found that their tie kept tightening, or their shoes kept disappearing, or their hair kept mysteriously getting wet. I didn’t do anything too big, of course, just enough to get my point across.

Eventually, the message got through their thick skulls, and ever since then, people have more or less left me alone. Oh, there was the time the League and the Core brought me up at a press conference, but a friend saw it airing in a hair salon and gave me a call. Before long, each member of the panel found a warm, freshly peeled hardboiled egg in their lap. The taste of revenge is much more satisfying than the taste of deviled eggs.

It’s been nearly three decades since that summer, and years since I last thought about it. But I saw my name in the newspaper last week. Marta McClain had announced her own league, “The Alliance of Independents.” Some reporter had included various clips of her speech in an article that was barely about the Alliance at all. I found the transcript online, though. I’m not the Hero she makes me out to be. Still, I think, just this once, I’ll leave it alone.

Today, I am happy to announce the beginning of the Alliance of Independents. For too long, supers have been pressured into fighting other people’s battles. ‘The Hero League is nearly as good as the Apocalypse Core and the Apocalypse Core is nearly as bad as the Hero League.’ You’ve heard me say it before, and no matter how many times Srta. Viper or President Hornet object, it’s as true today as it was ten years ago.

Ten years ago, I joined the Hero League in the hopes of making the world a better place. Instead, all I found was corruption, manipulation, and greed. Yet, when I tried to leave, I was branded a villain and a traitor. Now you know me as Marta McClain. “The First Independent.” Since I left the League, I have done my best to pave the way for others like me. People who want to do good in the world. Real good. People who deserve the freedom to make a difference. And today, I can proudly say there are many of us. Wild Flower, King Lizard, GoblinGirl, and so many more. People you know and love. And together, we have created this alliance, not to rule over one another, but to support each other, to encourage teamwork and accountability while maintaining our right to personhood.

You know me as “The First Independent,” But today I would like to honor the real first. Seventeen years ago, Franz Mayfield was arrested for stealing 7.2 billion dollars in fake taxes from the people of Kenya. Only fifty percent was ever recovered by the police. One month later, Franz Mayfield’s cash assets were stolen, and a sum of money suspiciously close to the amount stolen appeared spread throughout homes around the country. Five years ago, a mistakenly fired missile was projected to kill over a thousand people in Eastern China, when it unexpectedly exploded on the ocean floor. And 23 years ago, on this very day, the Hermivia Astroid was hurtling toward Earth, only to suddenly disappear. Who could have done this? Do you think the Hero League or the Apocalypse Core wouldn’t leap at the opportunity to take credit? No. It was an Independent. A woman whom many of you have now forgotten. A hero with extraordinary power, who could transport anything, anywhere, with seemingly no limit to her range or energy. The only apparently unlimited super to exist. She did not claim fame or recognition, but she inspired me. So today we open our doors in dedication to Liz Hassan.

You’re secretly the most powerful super powered individual, but refuse to become a hero or villain no matter how many offers you get from the Hero League or the Apocalypse Core

[cocktailsfairytales]

Killer Motives

by Bonnie Traymore

Publication date: April 14th 2022

Genres: Adult, Mystery, Suspense

Synopsis:

“A riveting, pulse-pounding, adrenaline rush of a thriller. Do not miss this book!” – Noelle W. Ihli, author of Gray After Dark

Readers’ Favorite 2023 Silver Medal Award Winner, Mystery-Murder

Audiobook Reviewer 2023 Best Mystery Award

Victoria’s life isn’t as perfect as it seems. But with two homicide detectives on her doorstep, it’s about to get a lot worse.

Still reeling from the shocking discovery that her husband is having a passionate affair with his real estate client, Victoria struggles to process the mind-blowing news that Nick’s lover is dead—brutally murdered in cold blood on the very same evening she uncovered the truth.

And now two detectives are on her doorstep, waiting to question both of them. Is she a suspect?

With little hard evidence and no shortage of suspects with “killer motives,” Detectives Jack Stark and Lexi Sanchez are under intense pressure to solve the high-profile murder case that rocks the picturesque village of Tarrytown just as the town is gearing up for the area’s annual Halloween festivities and an influx of tourists.

As Victoria sets out to clear herself and find out the truth, she’s faced with two terrifying possibilities—either her husband is a murderer or someone is out to get them.

Conflicted about her marriage and emotionally raw, she sets out to find the truth about what happened that night.

But does she really want to know?

Perfect for fans of Shari Lapena, Jeneva Rose, Sarah Pekkanen, Kaira Rouda, or Shalini Boland.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/216550558-killer-motives

Purchase:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3Yh7yBx

AUTHOR BIO:

Bonnie Traymore is the Amazon Bestselling author of seven domestic/psychological thrillers. Her thrillers feature strong but relatable female protagonists who peel back the layers of suburban American life and give readers a peek inside. The plots explore difficult topics such as jealousy, infidelity, murder, and the impact of psychological disorders, but she also includes bits of romance and humor to lighten the mood from time to time. She's an active status member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America.

Bonnie has a doctorate in United States history and has taught at top independent high schools as well as Columbia University and the University of Hawaii. Originally from the NYC area, she resides in Honolulu with her family.

Author links:

https://www.bonnietraymore.com/

https://www.instagram.com/bonnietraymore/

https://www.facebook.com/bonnietraymore/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22411066.Bonnie_Traymore

GIVEAWAY

Blitz-wide giveaway (INT)

$10 Amazon gift card

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/d04251235856/

Hosted by Xpresso Book Tours

[zooterchet]

Massachusetts State Politics ("Damn-Yankee")

1991: NSA OP-INT registered, as "Criminal Warfare", through "Internal Affairs" division, Boston Municipal City Hall. Father, offered multiple 401K accounts, and IRA, plus pensions for each business having worked, afforded paperwork per division separated; immune to Freemasonic MI-6 and Vatican Italian monitoring.

1996: EON registered, as "Irish Provisional", through husband, convinced "Sinn Fein" is a peaceful cause, "totally legal"; conversations with wife, Colombian Army DEA. Given to Gast family of Vermont; refused, given gymnasium test scores on the Mile, transferred to open refusal, bookies numbers, "Ptolemy", Tarantino authorship; listed as "Buddy", special education teacher. Recruited off Quakeworld, for Arctic MUD. Selected Tarsis, New England, passed.

1999: Mother dead, registered as Hopkinton PD, through "Schuck" family; relatives of "Woody" Allen, through display of "Deconstructing Harry" and "Manhattan Murder Mystery". Cleared of murder, FBI files given in flaw of "Batman" franchise, to Hopkinton Police Department, through State Police. Franklin Spencer, Christopher Dumais, assigned to write villain; written as "Electrocutioner", and later subsequently, "Scarecrow" in Batgirl, for Kennedy family.

2003: Class prank set up, to frame as having used ROTC to prank Hopkinton OSS schools, to protect from Biden; each student, registered as refusing Federal Republic of Germany and Nation-State of Israel, through mass quandry quarry. Israeli Germans, mobilized, out of Andover, and Faye Private School. Kennedy, Agnews, Nixons, Coolidges, Garfields, and Bushes, placed in permanent residency of Middlesex County, to protect children. Reporting signum number, Raven "Silver" Laventi, "Stitches", child through George W. Bush out of prostitute. Entrusted via father, met through Benjamin "Brown", real last name unknown; Falklands War sequence of parents, "Bloom County", Reynalda sought.

2008: Richard Ober, assigned "David Michael Charlebois", to deal with "Jim Shooter", real name "Andrew Donson", alias "Doctor Joshua Golden"; literature PhD, recruited against will by Mossad St. Cyr, French, to work in Bridgewater Triangle, under home guard of FBI theories unit, "The Mob". Extracted, in 2011, by David Charlebois, FBI report; federal building in Boston, under siege, by Mossad State Police, United Nations forces, unable to retrieve Boston municipal police from Turkish, Italian, and Irish hostels.

2016: Employment at SNHU, ITT Tech reformed school, to write comics and form program. African-American civil rights, and seizure of "black programs", by British Protestants, identified as "Babylonian Judaism", crimes of "beggars unions".

2024: South Boston Mob reactivates; The Bat (Bulgers), The Joker (Carnegies), Jacks (Jacksons), Sullivan (O'Neills), and Moses (Goldens), come to aid US Navy debts, out of Deep South (Arkansas White Supremacists). Silvas, Hitlers, and Bundies, summon Pasha forces, recorded under lithogram; Robotrek, (Enix Games).

[the-unspeakable-tsar]

X-Manson by Doctor Benway - Annotated by Tsar 6 - End of Chapter One.

X-Manson or X-Mansion is an X-Men fanfiction written by someone under the username Dr Benway; because there is no discussion of it online, I have decided to annotate it piece by piece to dissect it via Tumblr. If you are interested in helping, please message me with things that i have missed or questions. My text notes will be like this but in pink, while Benway's story will be written in white. I will mark text with the story in red like this to drive attention to narration points that will be important later.

[Shot of Kupermann]

BK: It's a phoenix story, I tell you, rising right out of the ashes. We had all the hospital staff saying, Don't listen, he's a vegetable, and this so-called vegetable is giving me a perfectly documented file of evidence showing how Xavier had fooled everyone. If he hadn't gotten all political about the Arabs, he'd probably still be here. They made him live in a neutral country, because the superpowers were terrified of him. He told me he went to Austria because Switzerland was too boring.

*Heyo, Phoenix mention!

** I don't entirely know what i'm meant to gleam from this. I assume it is a reference to a possibly Pro-Palestine Erich, seeing as how most of his later actions as listed below are very peace centric.

[Clip of EL raising a crippled Russian submarine from the sea floor.]

[Clip of EL looking on as Ho Chi Minh and Lyndon Johnson shake hands in Saigon in 1965.]

[Clip of EL welcoming Nelson Mandela in his cabinet office in the Hofburg, Vienna in 1966.]

[Clip of EL with Jean-Luc Godard, Jack Lang, and the Prime Minister of the Cayman Islands, having just witnessed the signing of the General Agreement on Taxation and Traditional Culture Preservation.]

[Clip of GL at the UNHCR branch office in Dover, welcoming the first of 50,000 Czech and Slovak gypsy families to be settled in Britain.]

[Clip of EL and Prime Minister Mikhail Gorbachev as EL puts old Soviet-era submarine reactor cores into a cometary orbit around the sun.]

[Shot of Erich Lehnsherr.]

Int: So you don't regret living in Hitler's birthplace?

EL: He had to be born somewhere, and it wasn't in Wien. Brunau, I believe it was, somewhere in the hills. Austria is a civilized country now, and I do my small part to keep it that way. It is certainly more civil than some societies I could name.

[Shot of dilapidated house in Westchester at night. Body bags are being brought out by ambulance attendants.]

A commercial comes on. It is for food. The food is steaming hot, flowing with rich, savory juices. She goes to the cupboard. She takes out two large bags of chips, a gaint-sized bag of chocolate chip cookies, a loaf of white bread, and a jar of peanut butter. She goes to the fridge and takes out a one-quart container of sour cream and onion chip dip. She seems pensive, looking at it all, as if somehow it isn't going to be enough.

*me on the average tuesday. Though, probably not as trauma motivated.

[heartsdefine]

↪ memes — accepting!

@undyingrogue said: ❝ Honestly, a man’s gotta take his fun where he can find it… ❞ [13]

        “Do you think maybe next time you could take your fun when we're not in an alien jet fighter spiraling for the surface of an unfamiliar planet?” The Doctor sloshes their way awkwardly through the last few feet of water, then glances behind them at the slowly sinking wreckage. “The water landing was rather impressive, considering you'd never flown one of those before.”

[slashaer]

jack and those that they had left behind would think that hannibal had taken clarice in an act of gaining leverage. and though that may be part of it, as she was an important piece in his game, that was far from the only reason hannibal had escorted the agent all the way to europe. having found companionship in clarice that hannibal hadn't experienced before, he hadn't wanted that to end. she held his attention, and that was a hard prize to be won. with his interest peaked, how could the doctor simply leave her behind? after the conversations they've carried, after the nights they've shared together? no, clarice starling is his. no one else could have her, and so she had to come with him. there had been no other option.

'he was rather fond of your form in the dress you are wearing, going as far as to reiterate his lust for you no less than four times. if i am counting correctly,' hannibal says this in such a cheeky way that they could easily be talking about something nonchalant, as opposed to a man that was now lying dead on their dining room table. another bite from his plate his taken, hannibal chewing with his mouth closed but smiling at clarice int he process. 'i would be dishonest, should i say i hadn't considered the thought prior to tonight. but perhaps he would not have a hole in his head if he had kept his comments to himself,'

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄, 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐒, most openly, not hidden like he did before that night in the kitchen, that clarice questions why she didn't just shoot hannibal in the head. why she didn't wound him, keep him there until back up arrived & instead of prancing around europe right now. he'd be behind bars or in an asylum. where would she be ? what would she do with time to process what he is, what he's done, the hole she'd feel in her chest at his absence ? ( 'fuckin' idiot,' something sneered at herself plenty of times since leaving that kitchen. she shouldn't have gotten close to him, she shouldn't have let him into her heart nor her bed. this is her reward ... a sham marriage, a tryst about europe forever until he's caught. )

expression is still slightly shocked at what @slashaer had just done. but, only slightly. with the veil between them gone, she isn't as surprised as she would've been before.

a tense silence follows hannibal's last comment before clarice can speak, ❛ what exactly ... did he say that was so offensive it warranted murder, hannibal ? ❜ truthfully, she had hardly been paying attention before. fork picking around her poor excuse for a salad--she's started refusing meat he's cooked himself. fingers pinch the bridge of her nose for a second before hands fold in her lap, leaning back, blue eyes focused on him: ❛ you've been itchin' t'do that, haven't you ? jesus fuckin' christ. ❜

[hotjellycow]

𝙸𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚊 𝚈𝚊𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒 𝚡 𝚂𝙼𝚁

𝙼𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘 𝙰𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚊

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝

𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜: 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚌𝚘𝚠 𝙸𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚊, 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚢 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚔, feminization, 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗?, 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒v𝚎 𝙸𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚊

(Y/n) waited outside his boyfriends agency building after he had gotten a strange hastily written message from Inasa asking him to pick him up quickly.

It was certainly strange, his lover had never left worked this early even when he was ill he still went to work despite (Y/n)'s warnings so it was strange when he suddenly asked (Y/n) to pick him up.

Inasa hadn't been feeling sick before work so it couldn't have been that, though it did make him worry thinking maybe Inasa had gotten hurt during work but then again wouldn't he have gone to the hospital or at least call you?

You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard your car door open and saw Inasa quickly get into the passenger seat but what was strange was that he was wearing a hood over his head and a blanket over his body.

You noticed his hands were crossed over his chest area tightly making you slightly confused. "Inasa are you ok?" You asked noticing his also red face and sweat dripping down his face along with his deep heavy breaths, "I'm fine can we go home please," he asked his voice uncharacteristically low almost a whisper.

"Are you sure?" You asked again getting worried, "Ill tell you later can we please go home," he asked louder, you decided to stop prodding and just started the car and drove home.

~~~

When you opened the house door Inasa immediately ran past you and into your bedroom where he locked himself inside the bathroom. You locked the front door again and folwed him quickly, you stood in front of the restroom door putting your habd on the knob and trying to open it but alas it was locked. You knocked on the door jiggling the knob again, "Baby are you ok? Whats going on?" You asked ready to kick the door down if you needed to, "Just give me a minute!"

Inasa yelled from inside the bathroom though he sounded out of breath.

You decided to just wait on the bed for him to get out but that didn't stop your worries.

Was he hurt? Did something happen during a villain attack? All these thoughts hurt your head. You heard the door creaking slowly open making you snap your head up seeing Inasa standing in front of the doorway with a blanket over his body and a hood over his head.

You stand up quickly walking in front of his larger form, "Darling what happened?

Is everything alright?" You asked putting your hand on his shoulder. He nodded letting out a shaky, "I'm ok but i um got hit by a q-quirk today," he mumbled, "What, well what is it?!"

You asked, your boyfriend slowly pulled his hood down revealing to you two white and black spotted cow ears along with small black cow horns on the top of his head.

Your jaw literally dropped when you sat it, "What the fuck," you said shocked, "What happened?!" You asked. "I got into a fight and one of them hit me with their quirk turning me into... this" Inasa said pointing to his head. "Well shouldn't we go back to the agency to fix this or go to the hospital," you asked frantically about to get your keys and drive to the hospital to figure out what the heck was going on.

But before you could go Inasa grabbed your arm, "Wait!"

He suddenly shouted one of his hands still over his chest as his other gripped your arm tightly, "There's um something else..." he said looking away from your gaze shyly, "Well what is it?" you asked wondering what else could have possibly happened.

He kept looking away as he spoke, "Just don't be weirded out please," he whispered struggling to find the right words to say.

You just nodded hesitantly not sure what he was doing, Inasa took a deep heavy breath as he slowly removed his hands from his chest and removed the blanket over his body revealing his black shirt with two wet spot right around where his nipples were. You were certainly confused not sure what and how he got those wet spots.

"Whats that?" you asked not too sure what was going on there, Inasa hesitantly lifted the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head which revealed his two large pectorals leaking some sort of white creamy substance from his very red looking nipples.

"W-what?" you asked not knowing what to say in this situation.

It was so strange to you, you could see how embarrassed Inasa was showing you, his face was red as small tears was apparent in the corner of his eyes.

His breath was getting heavier as sweat dripped form his face, his eyes squeezed shut not wanting to look at your face right now. "(Y/n) it hurts, I don't know what to do," he breathed out some tears from humiliation and pain, it wasn't regular pain though.

He felt so sensitive, every touch to his chest made him whimper, he was too embarrassed to tell anyone and he was definitely too embarrassed to consult a doctor about this. What was he supposed to say? He was hit my a horny quirk that made him moan with every touch? Fuck that.

He thought since you were his lover that maybe you could help him.

You reached your hand out to touch it, just curious as to how this was happening, when you pushed your hand onto his soft chest the liquid immediately squirted out of his nipple getting on your shirt.

A loud strangled moan coming out of Inasas mouth as he grabbed your hand giving it good squeeze, he pushed your hand away from him embarrassed at the noise he made.

"I'm sorry," he said hiding his face away from you, "Baby is that why you don't want to go to the doctor," you asked sympathetically, you knew how red faced and embarrassed he was right now and you didn't want to make it worse.

He just nodded his head tears pouring down his face from all the shame he was feeling in that moment.

You reached your hand out taking his in yours pulling his face to look at you, "Its ok baby maybe I can help, only if you want me to," you offered wiping away the tears on his face with your thumb, smiling softly at Inasas sniffling, he looked into your eyes and nodded, "please," he whispered. You nodded pulling him to the bed, you sat him down on the bed and left to the restroom bringing back some towels knowing things would most likely get messy.

You laid them around the bed before sitting yourself down on the bed taking off your pants, you patted your lap beckoning Inasa to sit on it.

He removed his pants leaving his boxers on only and hesitantly making himself comfortable on your lap placing his hands on your shoulders, you removed your shirt knowing it would get dirty.

"I'll try my best to help you" you reassured him bringing him in for a gentle kiss, he closed his eyes deciding to put his trust in you.

You pulled away slowly rubbing his hips as you moved your hand to his chest, you tried not to press too much knowing he was very sensitive.

You put your hand over his chest and massaged it slowly, "(Y/n) hah~" he moaned putting his palm over your hand pushing you hand harder on his chest, you pressed his nipple in between your finger squeezing it harder this time causing a loud moan to erupt from his mouth.

Inasa bit down on his lip trying to keep his volume down as much as he could, you gave his tit a god squeeze making his nipples to spurt out out the liquid.

You leaned your face close to his nipple, sticking out your tongue you swirled it around his red bud before taking it int your mouth, "A-Aah shit~" he moaned loudly gripping onto your hair tightly. You sucked harder on his tits causing the liquid to fill into your mouth, surprised you pulled away breathless.

You smacked your lips drinking some of the liquid, surprisingly it tasted like milk but sweeter, almost addicting.

You latched onto his nipple again sucking on it more, the milk entering your mouth as you tried t drink as much as you could, some spilled from the sides of mouth letting it drip on your chest.

"Yes yes! Ngh~" Inasa moaned pushing himself against your warm mouth, relief filling his body as his sensitivity heightened his body trembling as he suddenly came in his boxers leaving a wet spot on his boxers. You continued your actions removing your hand from his tit and moving it to his boxer where you pulled them down, taking a hold of his dick you jacked him off rubbing his cum and pre-cum covered tip with your thumb making it leak more pre-cum.

Inasa moved his hand over his mouth trying his best to keep his noises down but with everything you were doing he couldn't.

Looking up and seeing your lovers pleasured red face along with hearing his loud moans made you groan and cum in your boxers as well, fastening your movements you detached from his nipple and moved to his other sucking the milk filled pectoral.

You tried your best to keep your breathing study as you sucked in as much as you could.

You lifted your boyfriend up and pushed him down on the bed getting in between his legs, you pulled down his boxers along with yours as Inasa covered his face from you panting hard.

You leaned down to his dick licking around his tip before taking him in your mouth fully.

"Agh!~" he moaned feeling your hot mouth around him, you moved your hand up his body giving his boob a good squeeze feeling the milk squirt out and onto your hand. You pinched his nipple trying to get all that stored up milk out of him, Inasa thrusted into your mouth gently gripping your hair as his thick thighs wrapped around your head squeezing you. Tears continued to run down his face but this time from all the pleasure you were giving him, he sobbed into his mouth as he tugged on your hair.

You moved your free hand to wrap around his thigh massaging it gently, Inasa removed his hand from his mouth gripping onto the hand that was on his boob his other hand forcing your head down as his body spasmed, "Oh (y/n)! yes fuck fuck~fuckkk~!" he moaned cumming into your mouth.

His eyes crossed as his tongue hung out of his mouth, milk pouring from his tits as he orgasmed, hearing his moans and looking up to seeing his pleasured face made you cum.

Your cum landing on the bed as you drank the cum in your mouth.

"Ngh~" Inasa let out one last moan as he came down from his high nearly passing out but struggling to stay awake, you licked the tip of his dick before pulling away his thighs falling onto the bed his body weak.

You took a deep breath observing the big mess and the half awake Inasa laying there smiling at you, you smiled back leaning up and kissing his forehead. "I love you baby," you mumbled pecking his lips, Inasa smiled sweetly mumbling a small I love you too, "Come on let me clean you up baby," you mumbled lifting him up and bringing him to the bath.

You cleaned the bed up as you waited for the bath to fill up, you sat down in the large bathtub pulling Inasa to sit on your lap as you washed his cum and milk filled body.

He weakly kissed your cheek as you washed him, "Thank you," he whispered smiling.

You nodded kissing him again, looking up you noticed, "Hey the horns and ears are gone," you mentioned noticing they disappeared.

Inasa nodded closing his eyes, "You can sleep baby I'll get you cleaned up," you said making him nod and fall asleep on against your chest.

[garrettandoscargirlsblog]

The Road

Summary: Here it is!! Finally finished this beautiful piece. Based on the beautiful song written by the talented Garrett Hedlund. All it is about is heartbreak,and starting over

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ANQwAgE7wIc

Nature is a perfect place to do some thinking about stuff. Or better yet a place to start over. Benny Miller knows that all too well.  After a hellish year of going somewhere to help a friend  but to see him die. Took an emotional toll on him. Went on an emotional journey to find a way to heal his mind,body and soul. With the money he earned,and some that Molly gave him. Just to say that she cared about him. One thing he wanted to do is quit fighting and do one thing that would help him heal. Going back home.

Benny loves being back to the simple life of the country. Fresh air,and hard work that goes with taking care of the family farm.  His parents were glad that he came home. Worried about him.not as much as William who is still living in the city. He visits every once in awhile. 

On this particular day.  Benny puts on his playlist.  The  song that  is playing now spoke to him. Talking about different roads. Roads of heartbreak and mistakes. Goes onto the front porch. Looking at the horizon.  Watching the sun coming up from the mountains. Thinking about stuff that bothered him. One such thought is about a special girl. Whom he missed so much. Lost touch. Since she went east to work on her internship at a hospital. That thought was interrupted by someone kicking his foot," son, it's time to tend the cows. Let's get a move on." benny chuckles as he puts on his cowboy hat, " comin pa. Can I ask ya somethin?" His dad looks at him while they walk ," do you ever regrettin on things you have done . Like I don't know. Let that special someone go?" Jack looks at his son's sad face for a moment, " are you referrin to a certain girl that broke your heart? " benny takes his hat off so he could rub off some of the sweat from his head," yeah, bella. Been thinkin about her alot. I regretted what caused us to part. If I just fought harder for her. She wouldn't have got into that relationship with that ass!" Jack looks at his son. Wanted so much to tell him that she moved back home.

Meanwhile in town. Someone else is listening to the same song. Caused a young doctor to stop doing her task. Sitting on a window seat in her loft above her clinic. To her the song reminds her of the one person she didn't mean to hurt. That was her regret that she didn't see her ex's attention in time. His goal was to wreck your friendship with Benny. Who would do that to a friend anyway? Bella thought it was a good idea to save that song to her playlist. So she could listen to all of it later. Now it is time to get downstairs to start the day.

The Millers arrived into town to get started on the shopping detail. One thing was to stop by the clinic to drop off a bag of muffins. Benny choked when he saw the name on the door. Bella. Yes he wants to see her,but not now. How can he talk to her? Is she still mad at him. Only way to find out. Goes inside with his dad who greets the staff," my wife wanted me to drop these blueberry muffins off for y'all. So don't eat all of them now." Bella comes out of  her office. See Benny. Still handsome. Hair is longer. Tried not to stare too much. Went to hug Jack," thanks for these. Tell your wife I'll be over later on." Jack tips his hat to her not before whispering to her," talk to my son honey. He needs to know the truth." 

Benny followed his dad closely," okay Pa, when are you going to tell me about her movin back here! You know I can't talk to her. Not yet anyway. Don't want to end the same way it did years ago." Jack pulls Benny's arm," look son. You have this opportunity to make things right. So go talk to her. I'll do the rest of the shopping. Meet ya at the diner. " Benny nods ,and slowly walks back to the clinic. 

Bella was in her office working on charts when one of the nurses knocked on her door," sorry for the interruption but you have a hottie in exam room 1 that needs some attention. " she rolls her eyes while grabbing a chart, " if you are lying? I'm gonna make you take stool samples for the rest of the day." The nurse smiled as she walked away. 

Opening the door to see Benny looking at the pictures on the wall. Few he remembers," I wanna talk to ya. So hear me out okay." She placed the chart on the table. Crossing her arms," so talk. What do you have to say to me anyway? You never let me have a word in. Even when we were kids! " He tried to keep his voice down," oh I never let you speak your mind?! Since when! " getting into his personal space by thumping her finger on his chest," oh I don't know when I told you that I was seein Drake. I know how you hated that! Too fuckin stubborn back then. Now?" Grabbed her wrist," I'm not stubborn honey. You were the one that never listened. Told you that he was using ya!" Bella slaps him hard on the cheek," I fuckin knew that dipshit! Was gonna tell ya that, but you never let me explain ! Also the reason why he did it.oh doesn't matter now." She runs out of the office.  Benny goes after her,but it is too late. She got into her jeep,and drove away. 

Bella had to get away to think. Benny is still the same person when he left then ,and the same person she just witnessed today,but something changed. His eyes aren't sparkling like they used to be.  It broke her heart. Turned on her playlist. The song she was listening to comes on again. Clearly it was a sign. Pulling over to the side of the road. After turning the car off. She listened to the song carefully. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Was like listening to her own mistakes. The knock on the window brought her out her thoughts. Noticed it was Benny. Motivated her to roll down the window," look I'm sorry about before. Just shocked to see you, that's all. Look, can you just get out of the jeep and calmly tell me what you want to tell me." Taking her hand she got out. Looking into his eyes," trying to tell you that I broke up with Drake after I found out why he did what just to.. okay! To sever our friendship! Which he did. Wanted to tell you, but you shut me out!" Benny leans against the jeep. Trying to digest this information. Years of not being without one another took its toll on his heart. Also hers. Bella goes in front of him. Cupping his face," look that road we were on back then took something away from us that we know. If you want we can start a new one. Only if you want to.  This time we have to be honest with ourselves, and listen. Want to be with my best friend again, what do you say?"Benny pulled her close to him, tears rolled down his cheeks," Oh Bella.How I missed you. Told pa about regretting something I have done. I'm glad you are willing to try to mend our friendship. I'll do my best. So how about I take you over to the house. Think ma and pa would love to have you over." Bella smiles, " funny you said that.  I was on my way to talk to your ma. Now I don't have to do that now." Benny rubs his finger on her cheek,and leans closer to her, " Say, don't mind if I kiss you? Been awhile. Then if you want? I can come over one night after you close shop." Smiling up at him," I like that.  So we better get going.Dinner awaits." Both of them left onto on a new road where that one wont take anything away. 

[dire-kumori]

Dracula characters as DnD classes (and prestige/sublasses):

Jonathan:

Rogue

-Climbs walls like a vampire

-Steals gold (from an asshat who deserves it, but still)

-Affinity for really cool knives

-Sneak attacks (hehehe) and secret codes

🦇

Mina:

Cleric

-'Clerical' skills (I know its different, it's punny tho)

-Uses supernatural (ie, magical) abilities to hunt undead

-Ready to release Dracula from the eternal torment of undeath by putting him six feet in the ground where he belongs

🦇

Quincey:

Gunslinger (fighter sublass)

-Guns (duh)

-That's about all I got

-I mean he's basically a gunslinger already

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Seward:

Wizard

-High INT (doctor; surgeon AND psychiatrist)

-Low WIS (forgets he can't keep track of individual entries in his phonograph journal until he actually needs to, almost sits on his hat)

-Thirst for knowledge that sometimes veers into unethical

🦇

Arthur:

Bard

-Bears tales that will make your ears tingle

-No skills or talents in particular that set him apart from the group, aside from being rich

-High CHA; wooed Lucy, and Jack, and Quincey (no questions)

-No basis in canon but I imagine he has a really nice singing voice

🦇

Van Helsing:

Wizard/cleric multiclass

-Scholar of the occult

-Seward's mentor

-Apparently has very prominent eyebrows which I consider to be a vital trait for wizards, nearly as much as beards

-Uses tools of the divine to hunt the undead

🦇

Dracula (Vlad Tepes interpretation):

Ex-paladin/Blackguard

-Former warrior of the church

-Empowers self through dark deeds (eating people)

-Aura of darkness and despair

🦇

Dracula (not the Impaler interpretation):

Warlock

-Made a pact with an otherworldly patron for supernatural abilities (scholomance)

-Driven by desire for power

-Creepy but charismatic