#ruffled feathers diverging paths

[purple-nightfall-writes]

a torn suit, chapter 1

here we go with the first of the ruffled feathers alts! this one asks the question: what if it had been HotGuy having CuteGuy take him to what would turn out to be Grian's apartment?

this one will be two chapters; next chapter will be posted in a few days. hope y'all enjoy!

[bluegarners]

there tends to be a kind of under estimation in regards to dick’s attitude towards his parents. they’re more often used as The Reason for his path of heroism, and that’s true enough, but it’s a very focused Reason that often fails to include the actual Loving Parents. i would argue that thomas and martha wayne get more attention in regards to their loving on bruce, and in certain time traveling corners on dick as well, but it’s rare to see that kind of respect paid to john and mary grayson. the parallels we can draw between bruce and dick pretty much end after dick is taken in. we can count: loving parents; stable family structure; only child; bright future; horrific murder of parents; witness to said murder; and plot for vengeance as the core parallels between dick and bruce. where they begin to diverge is the point in which bruce becomes the guiding mentor for dick in how to channel that sense of grief and rage (though bruce had alfred, alfred played no part in diverting bruce from his self destructive path and encouraged it)

to that end, there’s a lot of talk about martha wayne’s pearls and mary grayson’s robin, but even then talk seems to only center around dick’s hero name and never what about the history the name implies. “robin stands for hope”, okay what else? martha’s pearls symbolize the catalyst for bruce’s transformation into batman, but does mary’s robin do the same? i think not, bc going back to the divergence between bruce’s and dick’s origins, though bruce remains the defining fork in the road for dick, if dick were raised in extremely similar circumstances as bruce, bruce would have more or less fulfilled the role that alfred did for bruce- which was mainly distant but caring adult figure that served to simply agree rather than direct. a reasonable conclusion, should bruce have fulfilled such a role for dick, would have been that dick should’ve become bruce #2. obviously, dick didn’t and the reason for that lies in john and mary grayson

this may ruffle some feathers, but there is a point to be made in the difference between the wayne parents and the grayson parents. let’s do some quick if thens: if alfred was left in charge of bruce, then alfred holds some responsibility in how bruce turned out. if bruce grew up to be someone emotionally closed off, then bruce is an emotionally distant, closed off adult. if bruce is an emotionally distant, closed off adult, then it stands to reason alfred reflects the same. so, if bruce and alfred are both emotionally distant, closed off adults, then when they take in dick grayson, dick will grow up to be an emotionally distant, closed off adult. right?

well, we all know that’s not how it turned out, and all reason for such a conclusion reside solely in the short time john and mary grayson raised their son. “but bruce had about the same time with his own parents. why did he and dick turn out so different?” and again i point directly at the implied differences in the wayne’s and grayson’s child rearing! the waynes represented a very nuclear family, one that is generationally upper class and in very prominent leadership positions. tracking the assumed and typical rearing patterns for that kind of family, though it may be a foundationally loving one, it’s also one that is radically different from the type the graysons represented. power and job structure rested solely with thomas and martha; bruce had very very little to worry about or any responsibilities other than making good grades and being a generally good son. comparing such a dynamic to the graysons, the power lines begin to blur a little. john and mary are employees, not leaders or heads of anything. however, they work in an extremely team oriented and cooperative environment- their earnings depend on everyone and themselves. though a prominent act in haly’s circus, they are not a completely solo one, and even then, it is a team, FAMILY act. since his birth, dick has been raised in an environment that focuses heavily on teamwork and perseverance. he took on enormous responsibility in being a part of the flying graysons, which likely wasn’t something he was being forced to do, young as he was. taking on a JOB as young as 9 years old, one that tests his physical, mental, and emotional strength sets him drastically apart from bruce when he was the same age. but let’s go back to john and mary again

no parent on earth would ever want to put their child in such a dangerous position as performing on the trapeze. and yet, john and mary did. why? dick’s initiative and his parents’ trust and strength. if john and mary believed that they lacked in some way that could put dick in harms way, i find it impossible to believe they would have ever let dick join them. dick did not learn his strength and endurance from bruce. dick already possessed those qualities before meeting him, otherwise dick would have never become robin and joined batman so quickly. the graysons set an ENORMOUS example for dick, one that set the tone for the rest of his life. taking into account the “it takes a village” familial structure that dick was raised in while with haly, dick would have learned that the strength of individuals COMBINED is what makes a person strong. even the formation of the flying graysons relies on trust in each other, that they will be caught in the next leap and that they can do these amazing stunts without fear of failure BECAUSE of the Faith they have in each others abilities. in addition to that, an environment that encourages strength and teamwork must also encourage FAILURE. one cannot learn from perfection- only through mistakes does one grow, and dick grew EXPONENTIALLY. dick grew, at the age of 9, to PRODIGY levels of talent and acrobatics. john and mary set an example so strong and so steadfast that it fostered dick’s stone-solid character for the rest of his life, even after they were gone from it

dick would have not survived his parents’ deaths were it not for the way they had raised him. it is why dick can move on and grow from it, whereas, as we’ve seen a dozen dozen times, bruce has failed to ever move on. coddled and adored as he was, bruce never had to face a challenge that his parents wouldn’t have gladly taken care of for him. the waynes did everything for their son because they loved him enormously, and what parent in the world would force their child to do difficult things- especially at 10 years old? of course bruce never had to confront things like failure or hardship before, his circumstances in life simply wouldn’t have allowed for it, and that is why bruce was so incapable of handling his parents’ deaths. thomas and martha did not prepare bruce for difficulties in any department, whereas john and mary introduced problems AND solutions to dick very early on. the SOLUTIONS bit is what set up dick for so much success- that’s the key difference between the two. dick had both parents AND guides, while bruce just had parents

dick would not have become a light in the world while with bruce were it not for john and mary grayson and their love and dedication towards their son. the credit for dick’s achievements as a hero may fall to bruce most of the time, but even bruce recognizes that he had zero part in the formation of dick’s strength of character. dick’s continued success and perseverance has EVERYTHING to do with those first 9 years he was with john and mary, and not a single one of the innumerable tragedies dick has endured has ever been able to disavow that

[the-bar-sinister]

Deicide (5677 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth

catch up here Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Wano Arc (One Piece) Spoilers, Possession, straw hat pirates polycule, Action/Adventure, Power of Friendship, Established Relationship, Kaidou Lives, basil hawkins lives, caesar clown joins the straw hats, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change

Summary: Realizing something is very, very wrong after the fight with Kaidou, Luffy seeks out Robin for comfort and advice. What he tells her is unsettling.

Luffy is hearing the voice of a god, and he wants it out of his head.

-

King had only been half conscious when Zoro had grabbed him by the throat, eyes blazing.

"The captain says you need to leave. Take Kaidou and your men and go, and never come back to this country."

It was a demand from the victor, an edict from the strong to the beaten. His memory was muddled, most of the way their battle ended told through the lingering pain in slowly mending wounds rather than firm memory.

He’d laughed, breath rasping from his bloodied lips as the swordsman’s fingers tightened around his throat. It was the law of the jungle– he’d said as much when the swordsman finally dropped him. They were beaten, and they would listen.

Wano’s future was in the hands of the victors. As he watched the man’s retreating back, he’d thanked him for the honorable fight and wished him luck on his path following the man he wished to be King of the Pirates.

He’d done as he was commanded. He gathered up the beaten remnants of their crew and the bodies of those Wano wouldn’t respect in their deaths. He’d carried the man who saved him all those years ago in his arms to the ship himself. His captain. His inspiration, the man who gave him purpose.

As the ship of corpses and broken beasts sailed into the rising sun, he kept his eye on Kaidou’s sleeping form.

It still felt like a terrible dream that they’d lost. Something unreal in the haze of pain-clouded memory– like his life before the labs and Government scientists. 

Dawn was blooming on the horizon behind them as they sailed away from Wano, but it was not their dawn. It was the dawn for those who had beaten them.

Kaidou lay there on the hastily prepared cot, his slumbering human form so much smaller than his half-dragon form he'd spent so much time in. Despite his nearly 14 feet of height, he looked fragile this way. Vulnerable.

King never left his side, watching him sleep with a protective ruffle of his feathers and a blaze of the flames over his back. As the Beast Pirates ensured the ship sailed on, as Ulti and Page One organized the last of their forces and took stock of the damages, he ensured his captain lived to see the dawn of their own.

His fingers lingered over the 20 year old scar on his body as he leaned down to touch him. They’d never return to Wano— no matter how much it’d been Kaidou’s homeland. It seemed the two of them now had yet another thing in common. 

-

Basil woke up to the comforting and familiar smell of incense. He hadn't been expecting to wake up to anything at all.

The cards had spoken before that fateful night. A looming percentage of death that hung over his head as the Beast Pirates drank and celebrated the victory that wouldn’t ever come. 99% chance of death– and a 1% chance of survival. It was a fool’s odds in a game he had no choice but to play.

The last thing he remembered was the shock of pain as his arm severed from his shoulder, and the pain of hitting the burning ground before darkness blissfully took him.

“A 1% chance…” he murmured as he took a deep breath of incense. “How absolutely amazing.” 

"Finally awake, huh?" A looming shadow filled in the doorway of the small, quiet room that Basil found himself in.

The voice was familiar. Captain Eustass Kid.

“Miraculously, it would seem I am indeed.” Basil tried to push himself up with an arm he realized simply was not there. Just the tingling presence of nothing in the place of flesh, nerves and bones.

Instead he laid there, looking towards the shape in the doorway with bleary eyes. “Fate was certainly in your favor, wasn’t it, Captain Kid.” 

"Not a big believer in fate, admittedly." The rival captain strode from the doorway closer to the bed where Basil was laying, and he sat down beside it with his legs crossed. "Numbers weren't in our favor, that's for sure."

“And yet.” Basil closed his eyes with a tired smile. “You pulled it off quite admirably. Snatching victory from the jaws of causality. I’d applaud you, but I’m afraid I’ve been rather disarmed!”

The sound he made wasn’t even close to a laugh. It was choked. 

Kid's glance flicked to the bandaged stump of an arm. He touched his own. "I know the feeling."

“Heh.” Basil shifted painfully with his other elbow, enough to sit up and look at him through the pale fringes of his hair. “I can imagine you do…my folly in thinking you were simply wearing makeshift armor.”

His expression sobered when he briefly met Kid’s eyes.

“I don’t know how, or why I am here.” 

"You're here because Killer brought you to me after you passed out," Eustass said. "Through the fire of the waning battle, the wound he carved tied with his own shirt."

“Oh…” Basil murmured quietly. The one percent chance of his life carrying on through another day turned out to be due to the very man who nearly ended it.

“I’ll have to thank him some time soon,” he smiled stiffly. “...the Beast Pirates would have left a defeated foe to drown in the pool of their own blood.”

Eustass nodded. "Killer's a man. Not a beast. How about you?"

“A man or a beast?” Basil chuckled raspily. “I’m a curse doll.”

Straw snaked its way over his bandaged stump, causing him to hiss softly as it began winding around itself 

“...I was never cut out to be a beast, admittedly.” He closed his eyes “Kaidou offered me but one choice after he killed my crew. An attempt to make a man into a beast– though I’d say he’s certainly failed.”

"You were coerced, then." Kid's tone was even. "A choice against your life's not really a choice."

Basil nodded slowly as the straw wound its way down into the approximation of an arm and fingers tipped in sharpened metal nails.

“It was join him as one of his agents, or die. Apoo led us into quite the trap, Eustass.” 

"I'm hoping to still find a way to make him pay for it. There's plenty he owes me." He grimaced, showing teeth, and Basil could tell he was angry. That anger, thankfully, seemed not to be directed at him. "How about you?"

“I’d like to tear him apart, if I’m to speak plainly.” Basil pushed himself up with his straw hand, the nails scraping softly against the sheets, “for treating our alliance so frivolously, and for rigging the game so there was nothing to it but to lose.” 

"We're of one mind on that, then." Kid nodded. "Interested in pursuing a mutual goal?"

Basil lifted his straw hand, holding it out towards Kid with a grim smile set under his dark and serious eyes.

“I’m willing…eager… to see where the strands of chaos lead us, Captain Kid…so long as you’ll accept giving me that second chance.” 

Kid held out his iron scrap arm in return. "You're down a crew, Hawkins. Will you sail under my flag?"

Basil’s ship was sunk to the bottom of the ocean, his crew buried in Wano soil. He grabbed Kid’s makeshift hand with the makeshift hand of his own, and the phantom sensation of fingers clenching shot through the bandaged stump below’s raw nerves.

“It’s as good a flag as I’ve seen. If it means we’ll strike out against Apoo…and if it means we’ll see the One Piece with our own eyes– I”ll sail under it gladly.”

He smiled thinly, a determined look in his often somber eyes “Captain.” 

Metal fingers squeezed straw.

"Welcome aboard."

-

Law had heard that Luffy passed out basically right after he had bested Kaidou– leaving the rest of them to clean up the mess and the chaos for three days by that point.

Onigashima was in the literal damned ocean, and salvage operations were underway to grab important scrolls and tools before they were forever lost. Kaidou was running off with his tail between his legs. The Red Scabbards were left alternatively purposeless and bound to their new lord–and Law had spent the last three days running from bedside patient to bedside patient.

The countless wounded on both sides demanded his and Chopper’s attention as doctors while Luffy snoozed away. 

Doctor privilege meant he was informed right away when Luffy did wake up– but he also knew that he'd be scarfing down food and surrounded by the Straw Hats for who knew how long.

With that massive crew of his, which somehow kept getting bigger every time he fucking blinked, he was sure he wouldn’t get a word in edge wise with him until they’d gotten their fill of doting on their charming captain.

So Law contented himself with waiting, spending a little time wandering the streets of Wano.

As he passed by a dango cart, a familiar croaking and faux-seductive voice rang in his ears.

"Well look who it is! And here I didn't think you were ever going to take a break." 

Caesar Clown turned to face him, coat billowing, little smoked glasses perched in his nose. Despite his words, Caesar, who was for some godforsaken reason still traveling with the Straw Hats had been seeing to patients right alongside Law for most of the past three days– albeit bitching loudly about it the entire time.

“Morning, Clownass.” Law raised his hand in greeting. “I take breaks, you know. Just not as often as some people I could mention.”

It was a lie. He hardly ever took breaks. 

"As often meaning 'ever'," Caesar sneered, snapping down a dumpling from the stick he was eating from. "What's the occasion?"

Law strolled over with his hands folded under his long and billowing sleeves as the ghost of a grin crossed his face. “Buy me some of those dango and maybe I’ll tell you, Caesar. Maybe.” 

"I didn't realize you were looking for a sugar daddy," Caesar drawled back with an over-broad grin. Before Law could protest, money had already changed hands, and he was brandishing a skewer of the treats at him.

Law turned a deep red as he snatched the dango from his hand with a sharp hiss. 

“Oh you think you’re a real comedian, dontcha, Clown?” He sniffed and bit one of the dango off the skewer with a huff “Luffy’s awake. I thought you’d know since apparently he’s your captain now.” 

"Apparently!" Caesar laughed. He pushed his glasses up. "So he's awake, huh? And here I thought he'd make it a full week in that little coma of his. I'm very impressed by his propensity for sloth you know."

“He’s a man who enjoys his sins, I’ve noticed.” Law snorted a fond laugh. “And after a fight like that? I thought he’d be down for a week too. But no. He turns into something…strange…passes out, and gets up three days later eating Wano out of house and home.” 

Caesar blotted his overly voluptuous mouth with a handkerchief and nodded, looking thoughtful, and possibly amused. "Well I imagine he'd eat Wano out of house and home no matter what– but that was certainly a strange phenomenon, wouldn't you say?"

“Like nothin’ I’ve ever seen before.” Law finished off his dango and tossed the stick up and down with a furrow of his brow “I’ve never seen a Paramythia fruit manifest quite like that before. Obviously awakening a power does a lot but that was…I dunno. Odd.”

Law glanced at Caesar Clown with a dubious stare. Somehow he still couldn’t believe that not only did Luffy take one look at this guy post kidnapping attempt and decide to drag him around…but he couldn’t believe Caesar Clown…one of MADS old researchers, and Doflamingo’s former business partner would content himself with traveling around with the lot of them.

It was fucking weird. 

Weirder still perhaps was Caesar's seemingly absolute commitment to acting like absolutely nothing hostile or even strained had even happened between them– either the Straw Hats or Law. If it came up, he laughed it off like it was a petty argument over drinks, and kept on with whatever conversational tangent took his fancy.

"Yes, exactly. Awakening a paramythia should only act on the space outside the body." Caesar chewed on one of his long, black-laquered nails. "The only time you see that type of personal transformation is with a zoan type."

“Stop that, you know where they’ve been.” Law snorted as he twisted his hand to the side…and a fresh dango stick appeared in the place of his empty skewer, which he handed to Caesar after tossing a handful of coins on the startled vendor’s cart.

“But yeah. Only Zoan awakenings completely change the body like that. Don’t get me wrong, Luffy’s been doing fucked up shit to his body this whole time– increasing his blood pressure, that one where he enhances his limbs and coats them with haki– but this was a full on transformation.” 

Caesar made a face, lips twisting as Law called out his dirty habit, and he buffed his nails on his coat, taking the dango in the other hand.

"Yes, it was more than just a physical trick. That blood pressure thing is probably going to kill him one day, you know, I've warned him," he shook off the distracted tangent and nibbled on his fresh dango before returning to the question at hand. "I wish I had a sample from last night. You didn't find any shed hair or anything? No, it'd all be at the bottom of the sea now, wouldn't it…"

“Trust me, I have too.” Law smirked before it dropped away. He paced with his hand on his chin. “any evidence of whatever the hell that was went away with Onigashima, Clown. And frankly, it might have dissipated when his body returned to normal. Turned back into his regular hair.” 

Caesar stood up from his seat at the cart and followed Law's pacing, his lips twisted in a displeased grimace. "Possibly, possibly. But we can't know for sure, can we."

“Not unless he does it again. Or he’s got some hair on his shirt.” He put his fingers to his chin “...but I’m gonna be honest with you, Clown.” 

"Fascinating new strategy from you, Trafalgar, color me intrigued."

Law briefly thought about chopping Caesar’s head off and carrying it around to listen to him flap his gums. The joys of the Op-Op fruit made non-fatal acts of vengeance a snap.

“Ha ha. But something seemed wrong with Luffy. You’ve known him a bit now, haven’t you? Didn’t he seem a little…”

Unhinged. Overzealous? Not his usual kind of intense. 

"A little completely out of his mind?" Caesar finished. "Yes, absolutely. And not the way our deeeear caaaaptain is usually out of his mind. There's something fishy going on."

Law snorted into his hand, before his expression sobered. “Absolutely out of his mind. That ain’t the man I’ve gotten to know. It wasn’t. If I didn’t know any better I’d say it was one of those situations where a zoan devil fruit overwrites who you are…but the Gum-Gum fruit’s paramythia. It’s well documented, ain’t it?” 

Caesar rubbed his chin. "Well enough documented. Of course that's even supposing it was the Gum-Gum fruit that the little freak shoved down his gullet, isn't it?"

“...” Law’s lips tightened. “..it turns him to rubber, don’t it? I mean that’s pretty obvious,right? What else could it be?” 

Caesar threw up his hands dramatically. "I don't know– do you know? There are plenty of things that could imitate rubber, and both of us know that every fruit out there has not been documented. For all we know he could have eaten a zoan fruit with the properties of some horrific undiscovered stretching dog."

“Disgusting thought, Caesar. I’m deducting fifteen points from your likability score for that.” Law drawled. “..you got a point though.” 

"You're damned right I do." He pointed the tip of the empty dango skewer at law. "If anyone knows how unpredictable and bizarre devil fruits can be, it's me!"

“The Gas Man?” Law drawled. 

He nodded in agreement. "The gas ma– No!! The greatest scientist in the world! Do you know how much research I've done on Devil Fruits!"

Caesar stamped his foot on the ground in protest.

“Tragically, I know it well.” Law smirked as his arms crossed over his chest again, “I blew up your lab. I saw just how much Devil Fruit research was goin’ on in there for ‘Dofy’.” 

"Exactly!" The skewer was pointed in his face for a moment again before Caesar cast it aside into the litter along the side of the street and rubbed his hands together. "I can figure this out. What I need are blood samples. You said he's awake?"

Law grabbed ‘the gas man’ by the shoulders. 

“I sure as hell ain’t gonna let YOU be the only one taking blood from him! If you’re getting any samples at all I’m gonna be there right beside you.” He pointed one finger at him. “to make sure you don't go about any funny business on the poor bastard.” 

Caesar grinned widely and put his palms on Law's chest. "Why Trafalgar! It's almost like you care! Marvelous! He'll be much easier to get blood from with someone holding his hand. Come along then."

Clown grabbed him by the wrist abruptly and moved to tug him along back down the street.

Law stumbled, his feet scuffing the ground as he stumbled into step. 

“Not like that you damn freak!” he sputtered. “You’re makin’ it sound worse than it is!” 

"I know, caring! Ick!" Caesar laughed uproariously. "I'm sure it's nothing that serious."

Law stared at the back of the deadly master of war crimes’ head as the two ran through the streets of Wano with an incredulous expression etched across his face.

Somehow all of a sudden he understood. He understood exactly how Caesar Clown had gotten himself adopted by the Straw Hats.

He was just as much of a chaotic freak as any of them had ever been. 

[ambitionsource]

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

RECAP

Over a series of shots from “Dear John,” Farkle setting fire to the imaginary museum of his relationship and watching it go up in flames:

Lucas, voiceover: Previously, on AMBITION…

That’s right, in case you missed it -- Farkle and Jordan are no more. Their final split was the result of just one of many personal reassessments that occurred last episode, as the ensemble evaluated where they are now and where they hope to go from here.

While Yindra finally met with the manager and producer Reese Dalton-King and hesitantly began her descent into the competitive world of girl groups, Maya discovered her dream duo of a producing team may not be as rosy as she thought. They have apparently diverging opinions on what path her career should take, which leaves her debating how much of her vision she’s willing to negotiate. Zay is facing similar friction, his ambition ruffling more feathers than winning him fans as he juggles what the best path forward could be -- with or without Turner Academy.

Zay: Everyone is always throwing their opinion at me. Everyone always has a damn opinion. I am working my ass off to make this thing work, and yet no one is fucking satisfied with it. Everyone keeps talking at me like I’m deflecting, or acting out of my ass, or making some big mistake. Well, I’m not. I’m doing the sensible thing.

If you say so, Zay. At the same time, Vanessa got a wake-up call of her own when she was called out by her professor for her lack of identity, which prompted a long-time-coming confrontation with her parents (particularly her father). Thankfully, she had the calm refuge of hanging out with Nigel while she helped him with an assignment -- and ended up giving him some potentially life-changing advice of his own to go for transferring out of NYU if that’s what he decides he really wants.

Vanessa: Take it from me, trying to do things the way everyone else wants you to is a recipe for disaster.

As the reigning king of that methodology, Charlie spent most of the week spending time with his mother in an effort to figure out why she’d grown cold with him since his return. As it turns out, it was more good news than bad -- he’d just done so much growing in the time he was away, Eleanor wasn’t sure where she’d fit in his life now that he’s back and so full of confidence. But they were able to meet in the middle, Charlie reaffirming their relationship and its sacred importance.

Charlie: I will always want you to be there, mom. Eleanor: My perfect boy. Charlie: Not perfect. Just… trying. Just me.

Isa didn’t have so much luck in the family department, an ongoing clash with the paparazzi bringing havoc to the MacNamara clan in a way they’d never endured before. Convinced they were doing more harm than good, Isa fled the scene -- and found shelter in the familiar embrace of old friends (or ex-friends, depending). Conveniently just in time, as Farkle dumped his soul-sucking boyfriend.

But one relationship proved itself plenty resilient against the odds. Riley and Lucas came back together after a busy week and a strong showing at opening night of Ghost: The Musical, finding home with each other as they always do… and Lucas took the time to make one affirmation abundantly, adamantly clear.

Lucas: I love you, Riley.

He may not say much, by nature, but for Riley, he’ll say it as many times as she wants.

But the lavender haze of love and comfort couldn’t last forever. There’s too much impending change, too many rising stakes, for the tide to remain low much longer. When Riley answered a call from Grace and called Lucas back into the room, their eye contact sending a message with no words necessary, that reminder was made loud and clear.

We’re cresting into the final episodes of the season, and the time for talking is growing short. Big decisions must be made, and emotional revelations demand to be felt.

And for some, the clock is ticking down on what meaningful time there is left. When it finally runs out, what’ll be left behind? What more is there to come? Are they ready for it -- can they be?

Only one way to find out. Can you hear it?

Tick… tick… tick tick… tick tick…

End of recap.

Over black, our first entry into the episode is a sound.

A heartbeat. A metronome of sorts, the most natural rhythm there is. It keeps up a faint momentum -- thump thump, thump thump -- as lights rise…

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

On a plain, dark stage. It’s a near replica of Adams Academy, only there’s no house to look out into. No audience to perform for. The edges of the wings and stage are cast in perpetual shadow, and the world in front of and behind the lit stage seems to go on forever. The set is pointedly simple -- just thirteen acting blocks arranged in windows along the rear of the stage, painted black.

The angle shifts, seemingly nothing but dust filtering through the light… then RILEY MATTHEWS steps into frame, in profile. She shines under the light.

And as the heartbeat quietly tapers out, she begins to sing.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “God Only Knows” as performed by Mollyxo || Performed by AMBITION Ensemble

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

Riley takes the first couple of lines, the camera shifting to face her head on. We slowly start to ease out as the next vocalist picks up the slack, a light coming up to illuminate ASHER GARCIA standing on one of the acting blocks to the back and right of Riley. Then ISA DE LA CRUZ, when it's their turn, between them and adjacent to Riley.

As we continue to widen our lens, it becomes clear that almost all of the acting blocks are occupied, darkened silhouettes standing on each like Riley, Asher, and Isa. As they take their solo lines, a ray of light shines on them to allow them to join the somber picture -- ZAY BABINEAUX. FARKLE MINKUS. VANESSA JOHNSON. CHARLIE GARDNER. While each ensemble member gets their solo moment to sing, the rest support with delicate a capella harmonies, filling the otherwise vacuous soundscape.

YINDRA AMINO gets her moment, then MAYA HART. Finally, NIGEL CHEY, who brings up light not only on himself but on JADE BEAMON on the block next to him. Characteristically, she doesn’t have a solo, but she quietly sings along with the other harmonies.

All of the lights are up now, giving us the chance to assess the ensemble properly. They’re all dressed in black, semi-formal wear, just with slight variations to each look that makes it unique to the individual (in fact, there’s so much costuming detail and specificity in this episode, it got its very own appendix to supplement this chapter). There is a sense of uniformity as they harmonize together, staring straight out into the darkness.

Only two acting blocks remain empty, the one in the front and center between Farkle and Riley, and one in the back row next to Asher. However, that last one isn’t entirely empty -- a lone six-string guitar leans against the front of it, a black beanie draped over its neck.

The center empty block makes sense soon enough, once we’ve expanded our view enough to get a full picture of the stage. While all of the singers are facing the same direction, it appears they’re actually facing the back of the stage -- the apron is jutting out behind them, where a lone figure is sitting on the edge by himself. By the time Nigel finishes his solo, and they transition into repeating the closing chorus, focus flips around and allows us to see from the house perspective…

Where LUCAS JAMES FRIAR is looking out into nothing. The camera eases in towards him while the harmonies peter out, the rest of the ensemble with their backs to him. He sits still, numb. Not singing, seemingly not hearing. By the time the camera stops, close on his face, we can see the slightest traces of conflict in his expression. Flickers of anger. Confusion. Desperation. Grief.

Although we can’t see her anymore, it’s Riley’s voice who carries the final word.

God only knows what I’d be without you…

Then, the scenery around Lucas slowly starts to shift, although he remains still and grim…

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - DAY

The darkness fades into a lighter hue, becoming the off-white wash of hospital walls. Lucas is no longer sitting on the stage, but in an uncomfortable looking chair, which we can see as the camera pans back out again. Other noises begin to populate the soundscape, as if we’re emerging from underwater -- footsteps, urgent chatter, the hum of fluorescent lighting. To his right, GRACE FRIAR sits, equally solemn.

On his other side, Riley is there, restless but quiet. She keeps one hand resting lightly on his forearm on the armrest between them, but doesn’t say anything more.

Where they are now, waiting for the inevitable, there’s not much to say.

Cue title sequence.

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - DAY

Things pick up right where they left off, Lucas, Grace, and Riley waiting in somber silence. They straighten up when a DOCTOR emerges from the double doors and makes their way over to them. Grace and Lucas both get to their feet.

The doctor mirrors their serious expressions, though laced with a hint of professional sympathy.

Doctor: We’ve gotten him situated, hopefully made him a bit more at ease. The respirator will help with breathing, though we will try to alternate him off of it and see if there’s any improvement.

But they don’t sound optimistic. Although they’ll offer support as long as it’s feasible…

Doctor: There isn’t much more to be done. All we can do is keep him comfortable and hope for the best.

“Hope” isn’t exactly the diagnosis you want from a medical professional, but Grace and Lucas don’t comment. They don’t seem capable of it at the moment, somewhat in shock.

The good news is that for the grim circumstances, Kenneth himself seems in good spirits. That’s what the doctor claims, anyway, before inviting them back to see him and discuss next steps. Grace nods, exchanging a glance with Lucas to silently question whether or not he wants to come along. Without a word, he gives her a subtle head shake. She can take this one.

Grace does so, not objecting as she lets the doctor lead her back through the double doors. Lucas watches them go, features as difficult to read as ever, though decidedly not in good spirits himself.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY

Back on the west coast, the MacNamaras are grappling with a different kind of family drama. ZACHARY MACNAMARA and RUBY MACNAMARA are more than stressed about Isa’s sudden disappearance, the latter pacing the carpet as they try to determine what could’ve happened. The situation was unideal, as they all know, but they didn’t ever expect they would just bounce.

Ruby: I know things were high pressure, and no one was at their best. But I thought we were handling it well enough -- I thought we were tackling it together. I don’t know what could’ve happened that made them think breaking off on their own was the best move.

From his slouched perch in the recliner, LOUIS MACNAMARA grows sheepish. But he says nothing, crossing his arms and sliding further into his seat. MILO MACNAMARA, on the other hand, can’t keep from talking. He’s very upset about Isa’s absence, confused and concerned and wondering what went wrong. What if something happens to them?

Milo: I don’t get why they would leave. Did I do something wrong?

Ruby gives him a sympathetic smile, coming to sit with him on the couch. She assures him that no, this has nothing to do with him. Any of them, likely. It’s a series of unfortunate events, that’s all. They’ll work it out.

Milo: Isa can’t stay out there all alone. They need to come home. [ worried ] What if they can’t find their way back? What if they’re lost?

Somehow, that’s not a concern Zachary has, for all his other ones. Despite the gravity of the situation, he isn’t worried about Isa being on their own.

Zachary: I have a feeling I know exactly where they’ve ended up.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

The zipper closes on a hard-sided baby pink suitcase with a flourish, Maya getting to her feet and wiping her hands of the task. She is excited as she picks up the luggage and rolls it towards the door, declaring that she’s all set to go. Farkle eyes her assembled baggage from where he’s munching on cereal at the table, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

Farkle: Think you’ve got enough to last you there? It’s only a weekend trip, you know. Maya: Yes, I’m aware, but you never want to be caught without the right outfit for any occasion. I’m off to make music, not a fashion emergency.

As she goes on to explain the details to Farkle, we learn that she’s going on a weekend songwriting trip with Melissa and Justin. The latter has a lake house where he often hosts these kind of workshops for their clients, and some of the best hits have come out of it. Now that “Haute Stuff” is on deck and ready to go, the studio has greenlit her EP, so she’s going to need some banging new material to go on it.

Maya: Mainly, I just take it as a sign that they’re taking me seriously, which is all I want. Farkle: With two hits in a row and another on the way, they’d be insane not to. Have they given any of the demos you shared a listen yet? Maya: No, but I’m hoping this trip might offer opportunities for just that. I’m open to crafting new stuff, obviously, but if we hit a road block and need to visit something with a foundation…

Even so, she’s not holding her breath. She figures her original stuff will have to wait until the next project, once her EP has proven a success.

Before Farkle can object to that perspective, their conversation halts when Isa emerges from Farkle’s bedroom. They all glance at each other, not quite sure what to say -- it’s been a while since the three of them had to interact in such close quarters like this.

Which sounds like the perfect reason to get going. Maya claims she best be off, thanking Farkle for letting her borrow the family car to get to the studio. He nods and wishes her luck, which she accepts with a salute and air kiss. Isa doesn’t interrupt, hanging in Farkle’s doorway until Maya has made her exit.

Then, it’s just the two of them. Farkle turns in his seat and offers them a shy smile, which Isa returns. He asks if they slept okay, which breaks the ice enough to let them feel as though they can venture into the rest of the apartment.

Isa: Fine. Well, enough, given the circumstances. Sorry again for just showing up out of the blue like that. Farkle: Please, it’s fine. Like I said, our door is always open. I’m glad you felt like you could crash here when you needed to. Isa: It was definitely appreciated. Though you really didn’t need to let me take your room. I could’ve handled the couch.

Farkle waves off the concern. It’s not like he can’t stomach a night or two on the couch, and they’re the guest. Isa scoffs at that, sliding into the chair opposite him.

Isa: “Guest.” Sounds so fancy. Since when did we become old enough to be hosts and shit? Farkle: Beats me. I still perpetually feel like I’m scampering feral around Triple A and stealing people’s retainers.

Isa cracks up, earning a smile from Farkle. It is a weird time to be alive, in the collegiate years torn between youth and adulthood…

With its many varied challenges. Still smiling, Isa softens somewhat, braving the question of how Farkle is doing. With Jordan and everything…

Isa: I’m so sorry things ended like that. And that I showed up like, two seconds later. Seriously, my timing historically could not be worse. Farkle: No, it’s okay. No worries. Honestly, the distraction was welcome. Better to go into problem-solver mode to help a friend than wallow in my post-split misery and make myself feel worse. Anyway, don’t see why you’re apologizing. You were one of the ones telling me he was full of it. You should be saying I told you so. Isa: I mean, you’re not wrong. But that doesn’t mean it makes me happy to hear it. You could do better, but I don’t like that you had to get hurt first to get there.

But c’est la vie. Farkle shrugs. He shouldn’t be surprised.

Farkle: Given my track record with… just about everything, it’s only fitting. Like, of course my first relationship would be a clusterfuck with a megalomaniac that damages all my other relationships in the process. Would’ve been out of character for it to be anything but a disaster. [ running a hand through his hair ] Actually, the mere prospect of anyone wanting to get with me in the first place was joke enough. That should’ve been my first clue.

Isa frowns, not liking the self-deprecation. Especially not when they fundamentally, fervently could not agree less… but that’s not something they need to get into right now.

Farkle spares them the chance anyway, changing the subject to their melodrama. Now that they’re here, do they want to talk about what caused them to make a great escape and show up on their doorstep? They got the basics out of the way yesterday night, but surely there’s more to the story… but Isa brushes him off. They’d rather not talk about the family saga.

Isa: You know what? I’m finally actually here, and we’re both in the same fucking place, so let’s just enjoy that for once. Okay? I just want to focus on the fact that we can finally hang out. Forget the other bullshit.

Farkle chuckles, a bit bashful, but he’s not going to complain. Lord knows he has plenty to ignore right now too. So he’s all game for just getting to chill, like old times, though he’s not exactly sure what that entails. He doesn’t have any bright ideas. Isa scoffs.

Isa: Nothing? You don’t have any suggestions. [ off his shrug ] You’ve lived here for over six months, and you don’t have any favorite spots? Any local haunts? Do you just float from here to campus every day and let that be that? Farkle: I mean, yes, to a degree. That’s called being a student when not living two blocks from your college. Isa: Blah, blah. Farkle: But otherwise… I don’t know, I haven’t had much time to explore. Maya and I did a little, when we first got here, but then it was school. And rehearsal. [ a beat ] I did some things with Jordan, but it was mostly stuff he was into, so…

Jordan dictated so much of his free time these last few months… and now it’s all tainted anyway. By him; by them, or the death of it. So yeah, he’s got nothing.

Isa shakes their head. That just won’t do. Guess they know what they’re doing instead.

Isa: We’re gonna go out there, and we’re gonna make some new memories. Dump that old crap out and make room, because oh, we’re gonna get out there. We’re gonna explore.  Farkle, amused: Yeah? Isa: Like Dora the fucking explorer, you and I. Let’s see this town the way you were supposed to. [ quirking an eyebrow ] You in, or what?

Well, when they look at him like that, playful and challenging and energized… like he could ever say no. Farkle makes a face, but then relents, nodding with a grin. Isa mirrors it.

INT. YINDRA’S APARTMENT - DAY

Yindra is also packing a bag, but not for a songwriting retreat. She’s made it through the first cuts of the girl group project, and now, they’re bringing the finalists on a weekend excursion to continue seeking the best combination for a powerhouse group. They’re being quite hush-hush about the whole thing though, for a bit of mystery and excitement, so Yindra’s intrigue is tempered with a fair amount of apprehension.

Still, she tries to keep calm. She convinces herself it’ll be okay, talking aloud as she finishes packing. Jade and DARIUS AMINO listen along, encouraging her positive outlook.

Darius: Just try to have fun. It should be a unique experience, if nothing else. Jade: And show them how fantastic you are. Don’t forget that part. Yindra: Right. You’re so right. It’ll be fine. Totally. [ a beat, then again ] No, yeah, it’ll be fine.

Jade also points out the potential in this trip beyond the girl group thing.

Jade: Maybe you’ll find some kindred spirits out of it. I mean, that’s kind of the whole thing, isn’t it? A bunch of talented, driven ladies coming together for this opportunity. Darius: That’s a good point. Sounds like potential friends in the making to me.

Or potential nightmares. But won’t know until she sees for herself. Yindra takes a deep breath and manages a smile, aiming for optimistic. They’re right. She’ll have fun. She’ll be fine.

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - DAY

Not much optimism to spare at the hospital. Lucas is chatting quietly with Riley in their seats, exchanging soft murmurs. Their attention is drawn to the lobby doors when Asher walks through, though, with Charlie on his heels. The latter is carrying Lucas’s backpack on his shoulder, having brought stuff from the apartment he might need.

Lucas gets up immediately as they approach, shocked to see Asher. He asks what the hell he’s doing here -- shouldn’t he be in class? And hundreds of miles away?

Asher: I drove down when Riley texted. Dylan wanted to be here too, but he has like three midterms this week, so I convinced him to hang back until he finishes those. He agreed, but only if I passed this on.

Asher steps forward and gives Lucas a hug, squeezing him tight. Lucas stands frozen, not sure how to react, still unable to process the fact that he’s even here. When he steps away and lets him go, Riley rises to join their circle.

Asher: Anyway, he’ll be here as soon as his exams are done. Maybe sooner if he comes up with a compelling excuse to get his last midterm delayed -- I told him not to, but that’s never stopped him before. Lucas: Well, tell him not to again. He doesn’t need to do all that. He shouldn’t feel like he has to rush down here because of me.

In fact, Lucas doesn’t get why any of them are there. This isn’t their problem, and it’s just miserable bullshit, so they should save themselves the angst. All three of them open their mouths to argue against that -- with varying mixes of exasperation and empathy -- but they’re interrupted when a NURSE passes by their little crowd. She doubles back and informs them that they certainly can’t have this many guests back here at one time, especially if they aren’t immediate family.

Nurse: During this time frame, only one non-familial guest at a time. The rest of you can come back during regular visiting hours.

Charlie apologizes on their behalf, all of them staying quiet until the nurse walks away. Then Lucas scoffs, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Lucas: It’s fine anyway, because like I said, I don’t need any of you to be here. Save yourselves the time and the trouble and go home.

Lucas turns and skulks off, retreating back to the other side of the waiting area. Charlie and Riley exchange an uncertain look, concerned; Asher resists rolling his eyes at the theatrics, waiting until Lucas is out of earshot to continue the conversation. His best friend getting all huffy and defensive when on the emotional knife’s edge is nothing new.

Asher: We’ll take turns. That’ll be for the best, anyway, so we can accommodate all our schedules. Charlie: [ with a nod, to Riley ] That way you won’t have to miss class or performances.

To be frank, Riley hasn’t thought about either of those things for even a second since last night. She manages a nod.

INT. CAR - MOVING - DAY

Yindra is in an Uber with REESE DALTON-KING, who is giving her some final advice before she goes off on this mini-weekend chance to impress. Be charismatic and friendly, but not fake. Be at the top of her game, and don’t get distracted. Don’t get too attached to anyone there, because there’s no guarantee any of them will come back for the final round -- including her.

Peachy keen. Yindra takes a deep breath, nodding and claiming she’s got it. It’s not her first rodeo with cutthroat competition at least. Reese offers her a smile, genuine, and assures her he has plenty of faith in her abilities. He’ll be shocked if she doesn’t make it through.

All there is left to do is find out. The car pulls to a stop and Reese gets out first, holding open the door for Yindra to climb out.

EXT. JUPITER MUSIC - DAY

A small crowd has gathered outside the headquarters for Jupiter Music, where other young women are arriving with their family, guardians, agents, etc. While some are sharing warm goodbyes with family, others are getting last-minute tips or hype from their team. No one is pretending this isn’t one of the last tests barring them from a major opportunity. Perhaps one of the only ones they’ll ever get, with the unpredictability of this industry.

As Reese walks with Yindra towards check-in, another FEMALE AGENT suddenly catches his attention. She’s standing with another young woman, a few years older than Yindra with a brassier build but undeniably as pretty. This is RONICA LEWIS (24).

Before either girl can say a word, or really size each other up, Ronica’s agent says something snarky to Reese that makes it more than evident they have beef. Is he really planning to put forth another wannabe starlet, when he should know by now that she’s just going to blow his picks out of the water?

Yindra: Um, wannabe -- Reese: It’s an open call. You should know, with tenure in this industry as long as you’ve had it, that anyone is welcome to throw their clients into the ring. Agent: Yes, well, one would hope for an outcome of actually booking one of those clients, but it’s cute to see you keep trying. [ to Yindra, full of irony ] Best of luck, babe.

It doesn’t seem at a glance like Ronica agrees with the behavior of her agent, but it’s hard to tell. Reese nudges Yindra along before either of them can retort, leaving the catty agent behind. Clearly, the stakes of having a successful entry into this group are bigger than just personal. There’s more pressure than Yindra might’ve imagined.

When she asks about that exchange, though, Reese brushes it off, going back to his professional demeanor. That agent just has a history of scooping his best opportunities -- typical industry bullshit. Yindra shouldn’t let it get to her. Just keep her head in the game, and eyes on the prize.

One of the organizers of the retreat whistles to get people’s attention, directing everyone to one of the busses parked along the curb. One bus for the ladies, another for their teams. These will take them to the secret location of where this retreat is starting, and reveal what the big treat of the event will be.

As the girls start to shuffle towards the bus, one of the taller of the pack -- ALEENA SAYYID (22), a beautiful, striking Muslim with deep brown eyes and a jaw that could cut glass -- offers a pithy remark as an aside.

Aleena: Anyone else feel like the odds of us all getting trafficked just shot up significantly? No? All right then.

Yindra can’t decide if she wants to laugh, or run full speed in the other direction. But she dutifully marches towards the bus with the rest.

INT. SHUTTLE BUS - DAY

Yindra steps up into the bus, quickly scanning and searching for a place to settle. There’s no telling how long this bus ride might be, and assessing where to sit amongst all these unfamiliar faces -- competitive faces at that -- feels like Minesweeper.

One girl who is obviously younger than Yindra, waif-like and pretty, is chatting too animatedly to be tolerable for long bouts of time. Pass. A couple rows behind her, a light-skinned girl with intense eyes and a boast-worthy afro of curls shoots Yindra an unimpressed glare. Also pass.

She doesn’t get much more time to decide, as Aleena nearly bumps into her from on her way up the steps behind her.

Aleena: Yikes. Traffic jam? Yindra: Uh, sorry. Sorry --

Yindra takes the least risky move, surging forward and plopping down into a seat next to a thin blonde with a trendy bleached pixie cut and cute, round cheeks. This is HEATHER REED (20). She appears cool enough, which Yindra knows is no guarantee of civility, but right now she’ll have to take her chances.

She raises her eyebrows at her sudden landing, slightly amused.

Heather: Hi to you too. Yindra: Yeah, hi. Sorry. Heather: No biggie. I’m Heather.

She holds out a hand. Yindra shakes it.

Yindra: Yindra. Heather: Pretty name. I like it. Memorable, too.

Before Yindra can thank her, they’re accosted by the waifish girl. She plops into the seat in front of them and leans over the back to chat. She appears to be making the rounds, introducing herself to everyone and anyone. Her friendliness is nice, but it has that practiced edge to it that reeks of young professional rather than genuine socialite.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet TABITHA FLORES (18).

Tabitha: Hi there. I’m Tabitha.

She offers a hand to both Heather and Yindra, who take turns shaking it.

Tabitha: What brings you both here? I was looped in by my management -- that seems to be the most common path so far. Though of course, I can’t forget to mention the execs who put in a good word for me. I did a couple recurring spots on a Netflix show or two. It’s NBD.

Humble brag. Neat. It does what it’s supposed to do, though, which is casually drop that this girlie is already walking in with a few industry credits under her belt.

Tabitha: Great experience, but singing is my true passion, so this feels like the right move for me. I actually was offered a leading role for a new show they’re developing on Paramount+, but it’s like, some reboot of a franchise from ten years ago that no one asked for. Ew, right? So I’m placing big bets this’ll be the much smarter trajectory.

As if she’s already a shoo-in for a place. She sure can talk enough to fill all five spots -- her momentum is only interrupted when another hopeful bumps into her from behind. This girl is a walking Fabletics ad, tan skin just slightly too sleek to be natural and clearly a master of make-up.

Madysin: Were we talking about invites? I got mine from the label itself. Not to brag or anything. Tabitha: Oh. [ tightly ] That’s nice. Heather: How did you manage to swing that? Madysin: It’s all in the numbers, babe. I’ve been building my TikTok following for exactly this reason. Once you’ve got the goods, the offers just start rolling in. Admittedly, though, this is the first one I’m excited about. You can only fake enthusiasm for a diet tea so much.

The girl with the afro rolls her eyes, scoffing and crossing her arms. Not impressed. This is SLOANE SHARPE (17). The TikTok sensation keeps chatting, fluffing her hair.

Madysin: Anyway, I’m pretty sure it was my viral dance videos that got their attention. They went like, mega viral. I’m actually pretty well-known on the platform -- Kylie Jenner and Nikki Haley have both stitched with me, so I have a pretty wide base. Name’s Madysin May, handle “at madysinmayi.” You may have heard of me. Sloane, flatly: Never.

Yindra shrugs, also unfamiliar. MADYSIN MAY (21) doesn’t seem fazed, continuing her trek towards the back of the bus. As Tabitha spins around and finds a new girl to chat up, Heather turns and gives Yindra a wide-eyed look just dripping with amused judgment.

Heather: What bus did we just board? Crazy town?

Yindra can’t help but laugh, though she keeps it quiet. At least one other person here doesn’t seem like a pre-selected industry baby or pathological headcase.

The executive boards the bus and tells all the ladies that they’ll be on their way now, so everyone get pumped! If crazy town is where they’re headed, there’s no turning back now…

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

JOSH MATTHEWS is at his desk in the office box, seemingly hard at work sifting through his inbox when Maya emerges from the elevators with her things. She can’t pass up the opportunity to pick on him, quietly picking up her suitcase to sneak up on him from behind. Once she’s behind him, she playfully rolls the suitcase into the back of his chair, startling him and causing him to nearly spill his coffee.

Maya: Whoops! Fender bender.

Josh whips around, on defense, but he relaxes somewhat when he sees it’s just her. He’s surprised that she’s elected to talk to him out of the blue, and that she has all this baggage with her, but he finds he’s not opposed to the surprise.

When he asks what she’s doing there rolling her things into his personal space, she excitedly explains that she’s going on the songwriting retreat. Josh nods.

Josh: So you’re the talent they’re taking this time. They usually keep it vague when I book it in their calendar. Maya: Yep. The label is very keen on “Haute Stuff,” even though it hasn’t dropped yet, so they’ve greenlit us to start work on putting together an EP. No announcements yet, so keep it hush-hush --

Josh raises a hand in surrender then puts a finger to his lips, signaling his lips are sealed.

Maya: But an EP will need songs, so that’s what we’re gonna make this weekend. Pop domination is so close, it’s like you can almost taste it.

Might be getting a bit ahead of ourselves there, but the enthusiasm is infectious. Josh can’t help but crack a smile. He crosses his arms and leans back against his desk. He figures the retreat should be easy breezy, considering she already has a handful of demos, right? If they just pull from those, they hardly will need to break their backs over the weekend.

Although he’s paying her a compliment, Maya recedes somewhat at the mention of her personal portfolio. Given the reception she got from Melissa and Justin -- which is to say, none at all -- she seems to have cooled on the demos.

Maya: I think they’ll want to craft some brand new material for this breakout. You know, be involved from the ground up. [ with a shrug ] Besides, they weren’t my best anyway. Best to leave them in the dustbin, I bet.

She plays off nonchalant about it, but there’s just the slightest of cracks in her facade that lets the disappointment shine through. Josh is confused regardless -- he’s not going to puff her up without merit, but he finds it hard to believe all of her demos were compost material. Given her instincts for mining gold with “On My Grind (O.M.G.)” and “LolliPop,” the odds that there’s nothing worth building on in a portfolio full of her work sounds off.

He doesn’t get the chance to question her, though, as JUSTIN MILLER emerges from his office and comes to join them seconds later. He greets Maya with great fanfare and throws an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to his side as he declares victory on their EP greenlight. Maya beams, happy to share in the successful move.

Josh: Congratulations. Justin: Thank you, thank you. Couldn’t have done it without ya, Josh, keeping my life organized and above board.

And producing whole songs for you. Don’t forget that. Justin pats Maya’s head affectionately.

Justin: Now we’ve just got to get this moneymaker upstate and start crafting some bangers. Pop a bottle for us while you’re here, Josh -- it’s gonna be a wild weekend!

One he’s not invited to, in case that wasn’t clear. MELISSA SUZUKI emerges from the office and locks it up, duffle slung over her shoulder. She greets Josh cheerfully as well and tosses him the keys to their offices, telling him to take good care of the place while they’re gone.

Justin: It’s up to you, young padawan. Don’t let us down. Josh: I’ll do my best. Melissa: And now we’ve got to go make some fucking good music. Justin: Hells yeah, baby! Let’s go!

Justin leads the way towards the elevators, a true pep in his step. Melissa rolls her eyes fondly and gives Maya a playful elbow nudge as she follows, letting their client bring up the rear. She follows eagerly, tossing Josh one more jazzed smile over her shoulder as she goes.

Josh manages to return it, giving her a salute to send her on her way. It feels nice to not be bitter anymore, to feel like they’ve bridged their bad start and he can be happy for her. Like he would for Riley -- like she’s another industry niece.

Just would be nice if he got to be in on the excitement too. Instead, he goes back to his work, slumping into his chair and staring at his busy inbox.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Charlie has taken up residency at Chubbies for the afternoon, only a few blocks away from the hospital. He’s working on transcribing some of the journal entries he wrote while abroad into a digital form on his laptop, organizing the thoughts into something more malleable in case he ever wants to do something with it beyond just hiding the journal in his nightstand drawer with his Bible.

When Zay steps through the door and spots Charlie sitting in one of the booths, it looks like he can’t believe his good timing. He can’t hold back his smile as he saunters over to join him, lightly drumming on the table to get his attention once he’s made it in front of him.

Charlie jumps slightly, breaking his concentration to look up, but he brightens naturally when he recognizes who has paid him a visit.

Charlie: Hi. Zay: Hey. Just who I was hoping to see -- I was actually gonna send you a text, but then I just got lucky. Charlie: [ raising his eyebrows ] Color me intrigued.

He gestures to the booth opposite him. Zay happily slides in and takes a seat, leaning forward on his elbows and getting right to it.

Zay: So as you know, my Turner audition is this week. Charlie: Shoot, yeah. Are you feeling good about it? Zay: As I’ll ever be. At this point, it’s kind of a leave it all on the stage sort of thing, so I’m trying not to overthink it. [ moving on ] Anyway, we’re gonna get our official slots later this week, but they’ve given us the venue and window of time for the auditions already. And it doesn’t say anywhere in the fine print that this is a closed door affair, or anything, so… I was hoping you’d come. To see my audition.

Despite his nonchalance, there’s an earnest edge to his delivery that kind of knocks the wind out of Charlie. He’s a bit surprised he even thought to extend the invitation, when he’d expect his mind to be on anything but him right now.

Charlie: Oh. Wow. Zay: I know it’s late notice, sorry. I would’ve asked earlier, but like I said, we just got the deets today. I didn’t want to throw it out there and ask anything of you until I knew it wouldn’t be like, an instant disqualifier to have friends because God forbid we have anyone rooting for us. Charlie: No, for sure. That’s okay. I assume Vanessa’ll be there too? You’re allowed to watch each other’s stuff?

Well… good question, Charlie. Truth is, Zay has no idea whether she will, but based on his own thinking, he has his suspicions.

Zay: Uh, I don’t think so. We’re not exactly all gungho at the moment. Charlie: Oh. [ a beat ] Is everything okay? Zay: No, no, yeah. It’s chill. It’s just -- [ hastily explaining ] so obviously there’s a lot on the line, you know, with the auditions. Transferring. And we both want it, and we get a little competitive, so the impending pressure was kind of putting a strain on things. Charlie: Right. Zay: So we decided it would be best for us to take some space while this was going on, like, not get in each other’s way and let the focus be on the dance. So that way, no matter what happens, we can’t blame one another for the outcome. We’ll do our thing, lay it all out there and not interfere, then once this audition shit is done we can just snap back into place and it’ll all be back to normal. Easy peasy.

Right… although Zay speeds through that explanation like it’s obvious, Charlie has a bit of trouble keeping up. He holds it together well, but there’s more than one moment where slight shifts in his expression betray his bewilderment. Like, okay… sure… probably not how he’d want to handle something like that at this point, if he were in a relationship…

But he’s not, so he holds his tongue.

Zay breezes past the topic, coming back to what he cares about -- the audition. Namely, whether or not Charlie is willing to spare the time to be there.

Zay: It’s totally fine if not, but I figured better to ask than assume. You know I don’t believe in signs or karma or any of that mumbo-jumbo bullshit, but at the same time, I’m not gonna miss a chance to improve my odds if it’s right there in front of me. And based on my track record in the last few years, far more of my wins than my losses have occurred when you just so happened to be in attendance. Charlie, bashful: I mean, I wouldn’t say… Zay: So if it’s at all possible, it would be great to have my good luck charm present for what might be the biggest audition of my life up to this point. Not to mention my best friend who can actually appreciate good dance when he sees it. [ holding his gaze ] So?

Give him a second, Zay, he’s still tingling over the good luck charm comment. But really, what did he think he was going to say? As if he was going to be able to look at Zay, gazing at him hopefully with those brown eyes, and ever say no?

Charlie: Of course. It would be an honor.

There’s just one condition, which is that it depends on timing. Charlie makes clear that he has some important plans already scheduled that same evening, so he might have to dip out early depending on when Zay’s slot is assigned. But he’ll do his best to be there.

Just the promise of his supposed charmed presence is enough for now. Zay grins, lightly smacking the table in triumph.

INT. JOHNSON HOME - DAY

The mood isn’t so jubilant in the Johnson home, despite the same important events looming on the horizon. It appears Vanessa has entered a stalemate with her parents, none of them speaking a word when Vanessa enters the kitchen to grab her lunch before heading off to class. RAY JOHNSON doesn’t even look up from his paper.

ALEXIS JOHNSON does, though, eyeing Vanessa when she’s not looking. There’s a slight frown in her features, a motherly concern that can’t be concealed by the ice that’s spread throughout their home.

Vanessa hardly notices when she finally turns to address them. She keeps it brief, simply informing them of the same details regarding her audition. The date, where it is, that that’s where she’ll be for that stretch of time that evening. She’s not asking for permission, she’s just keeping them in the loop.

She doesn’t wait for a response -- she knows she won’t get one. Ray doesn’t even act as though he heard her, like the words just evaporated into thin air. Alexis keeps her head down as Vanessa passes and heads out the door, then glances after her with that same pensive expression.

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - NIGEL’S BEDROOM - DAY

Nigel appears quite a bit nervous himself that afternoon. He’s been compiling research and information on schools and acting programs in the UK for days now, and he’s finally gotten enough together that he feels confident enough to share with others. There’s a plan, albeit in rough sketches, for how he could make this happen. He could actually try and jump the pond.

But that doesn’t mean he has the nerve to do it. The document he’s working on is titled “Notes for Mom and Dad,” so the hurdle of telling them is clearly foremost on his mind. If he can just find the right way to go about it… if he can just find the guts to open his mouth in the first place…

Executive, pre-lap: Ladies, the best and brightest of your future potential awaits!

EXT. SANTA MONICA - DOCK - DAY

The buses have brought the hopefuls and their management to Santa Monica, where they’re deposited on a private dock. In the not-so-distant background, the famous Pier with its spectacle and ferris wheel add pops of color to the scenery.

Our focus is on this pier, though, where a large, luxurious yacht is waiting for them. Yindra walks with the other girls towards the end of the dock, staring up at the fancy boat with wide eyes. Whatever she was expecting the first year out of high school to look like, she definitely did not have Hollywood cruising on her bingo card.

Big shot executives from Jupiter await them in suits when they arrive, shiny smiles intact. All assembled, there are about fifteen young women gathered for this opportunity, all ranging between 17 - 25 in age. The CEO greets them and reminds them that this is an amazing chance for them to kickstart the rest of their careers. While he speaks, Madysin makes sure to elbow her way to the front and put on her biggest smile.

Jupiter CEO: Although not all of you will be selected to move onto the final round, nor be a part of this future girl-power-powerhouse, we hope you’ll make the most of this weekend and all it has to offer. A chance to get your name and talents in front of a slate of industry professionals, the time to mix with fellow talented women and perhaps make some brand new besties -- and last but not least, have a hell of a lot of fun!

No middle-aged man is capable of saying all that without sounding cheesy as hell, but the idea is there. Everyone applauds, Yindra doing her best to mean it and not let the nerves speak for her.

With that, it’s time to get on board -- literally! Assistants move forward to start ushering the ladies onto the gangway, the executives telling them to wave goodbye to their teams and get ready for a great time.

As Yindra obediently follows, she glances back over her shoulder towards Reese. He gives her a thumbs-up and beam, brimming with confidence. Ignore the others. Show what she’s got. She’s got this.

Can only hope his confidence isn’t misplaced. Yindra returns the smile, signaling she got the message. Then she walks the plank onto the yacht, sealing her fate for the weekend.

INT. YACHT - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

The entrance brings the girls to the main interior room of the yacht, a trendy and modern lounge. It feels somewhat like the house of a reality TV show, with comfy couches, a big TV, and a sound system. To the right, a decently sized kitchen is set-up, though it’s made clear early on they won’t feel the need to use that so often. Most of their meals will be catered for them during the retreat. Beyond the couches, glass doors lead out onto the main upper deck, letting in tons of sunshine and treating them to a gorgeous view of the water.

The rest of the spacious vessel will be unveiled in due time, but for now, they need to go through the check-in process. The organizers direct them accordingly, stating that each of them will briefly step into their privacy booth to record an introductory video. This will be used as a reference for later deliberations. It’s also noted that many of the common areas on the boat have cameras for security (sans the bathrooms and bedrooms, of course).

Staff also takes their belongings, noting that they’ll be taken to their bedrooms, which will be assigned to each girl by the end of the first evening. They’re also collecting their phones, as they want this retreat to be about staying in the moment and bonding with the fellow girls (plus, no leaks).

Yindra watches apprehensively as they take her bags and phone away. Truly no turning back now.

INT. YACHT - PRIVACY BOOTH - DAY

Privacy booth is one way to put it, but it may look more similar to what reality TV fans could call a “confessional booth.” The room is small, about walk-in closet-sized, with sound-proofed walls. At one end is a telephone, so they can still contact others if need be. Then in the center of the space is a stool, which faces opposite the camera system inset at the other end of the wall.

Yindra tries to acclimate to all of this as she takes her turn in the booth -- the first one, in fact, given her “A” surname. She awkwardly settles onto the stool and then finds the button to press that’ll start the recording. She manages a smile just in time.

Yindra: Hi there. Yindra Amino. Nineteen years old. Mezzo soprano. New York native.

With that, a brief, chipper montage ensues, jumping between each of our main players on this girls retreat. We see each girl introduced from the camera’s perspective, as if we’re watching the footage later.

Tabitha: My name is Tabitha Flores -- Sloane: Sloane Sharpe -- Heather: Heather Reed. Madysin: Madysin May. TikTok “madysinmayi.” Chances are you’ve already heard of me.

Momentum stalls a little bit when a tall redhead takes the stool. This is KIMMY PRICE (20), undeniably pretty with big blue eyes and a modelesque frame. She’s peering into the camera, clearly confused. After a long beat…

Kimmy: Um… hello? Is this -- is it on?

The door creaks open, one of the staff poking their heads in. We can’t see them, but their voice catches on the recording.

Staff: It’s on. Kimmy: Oh. Okay. Thank you. [ once the door shuts, with a peppy grin ] Hi! I’m Kimmy. Hailing from Cincinnati -- Sloane: Chicago -- Heather: Portland -- Aleena/Tabitha: [ split-screened ] Los Angeles. Madysin: Dallas, Texas, baby. You know what they say, everything’s bigger -- and everything is better, too!

The client of Reese’s rival takes the seat, more poised and professional than the younger girls thus far.

Ronica: I’m Ronica Lewis. Mezzo, though my strongest register is alto. Four years experience in the industry -- Aleena: Three long years in the industry -- Tabitha: I’m just getting my feet wet in the music industry, officially speaking, but don’t let that wig you out. I’ve got a following on my Soundcloud and Spotify for the singles I’ve released since I started writing in middle school. I’ve also got experience on the screen, through my roles in -- Sloane: … high school and community theater, which I detailed in my original paperwork before signing up. Kimmy: I have been working with a vocal coach, but I absolutely love to dance. I hope this group will get to do a lot of that. Madysin: My dance videos have gotten over five-hundred thousand views, and that’s just talking averages. So clearly I can bring that to the table. Aleena: I have light training in gymnastics, and I’ve been taking ballet, hip-hop, and jazz since I was about seven years old. Yindra: I haven’t broken out -- so to speak -- in the industry just yet, but I attended one of the top arts high schools in the country and spent four years honing my craft. I also was invited to perform at the Hollywood Haunt this past fall, an event known for highlighting the best up-and-coming unknown talent in the business.

No need to mention it’s because Maya passed her an extra ticket. Details. Although all of their stories and journeys to this moment are different, each of the fifteen girls we see concludes with a very similar sentiment.

Tabitha: I’m very excited for -- Aleena: This opportunity. I hope that -- Madysin: Throughout the week, you will get to see -- Kimmy: I will get to show you -- Yindra: Just how much I have to offer. I will -- Aleena: Give my all, as I always do -- Sloane: One-hundred percent. Then I guess -- Ronica: We’ll see what happens. But thank you for this opportunity -- Yindra: And I’m keen to see what the weekend holds.

We land back on Kimmy for the conclusion, who is still cheerfully talking.

Kimmy: I’m also very excited to get to spend the weekend with the other girls, and maybe make some new friends. Whoever ends up in this group, I just know we’re going to be the best of friends. So… yeah! I can’t wait. [ a long pause ] Okay, I’m done now. I think. Um, how do I -- ?

She grasps around the booth for the solution, until she finds the button on the wall to suspend recording -- and sends the whole thing smashing to black.

INT. HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - NIGHT

Riley has taken on shift duty for the evening, hanging out with Lucas while they wait. In theory, no news is good news, but it’s hard to even know what they’re hoping for at this point…

So instead, she’s focused on taking care of him. Although he insists he isn’t hungry, she’s convinced him to at least grab something from the vending machine. Any carbs is better than none at all.

Lucas: Don’t see how it even matters. If I pass out, or whatever, I’m already in the opportune place to be helped. [ under his breath ] Don’t think our bills could go any higher…

His deadpan delivery is less charming than usual, given the circumstances. But Riley lets it slide -- she knows his head is all over the place. She simply nudges him into picking something from the options, sliding a few quarters into the slot and waiting for him to press the buttons.

While they watch the painfully slow mechanics of the machine, Riley takes the opportunity to bring up something that’s been on her mind. Obviously, she respects that he’s not that keen on digital communication, but she thinks he might want to clue Isa into what’s going on. Even though they’re not in town, she’s certain they’d want to know what’s happening.

Lucas, on the other hand, doesn’t seem keen.

Lucas: I’d rather not bother them. Riley: I really don’t think they’d see it as a bother. They’ve been following this whole thing just like we have for months. I know if I were away and something like this were happening, that it was so -- I’d want to know. I’d want to be able to help, if I could. Lucas: Yeah, well, they can’t help. They can’t do anything about it. So that’s kind of a moot point, isn’t it?

Riley maintains her patience, but she raises her eyebrows at him. Not impressed with his tone. He grows sheepish, going back to staring at the machine.

Lucas: Sorry. Riley: It’s okay. Lucas: I don’t mean to be like this. Like, take it out on you or -- [ tapping the machine glass ] Stuck.

Riley frowns, glancing towards the vending machine. He’s right -- whatever they ordered has gotten stuck right before freedom, trapped in the last second before freefall. Riley huffs in irritation and digs in her wallet for more quarters.

When she comes up short, Lucas holds up a hand to halt her complaints. He glances around them to make sure no one is looking, clenches his jaw… then he shoulder-checks the machine. It jostles it just enough to release their snack.

Guess sometimes all you need to get unstuck is a bit of a good shake… and that’s one way to get all your pent-up emotion out. Riley drops down and retrieves the item from the slot, handing it to Lucas when she’s back at full height. He thanks her, but doesn’t make any moves to eat it.

They hang by the machine for a few moments longer, cast in a subtle blue glow. Lucas clears his throat, plastic crinkling as he fidgets with the snack in his fingers.

Lucas: I get why you’re making the point about Dora. I get why you’d feel that way. But I’d really rather not say anything. Riley: … okay, but -- Lucas: Like, it’s fine that you texted Dyl and Asher, but I kind of wish you’d warned me first. I wasn’t planning on telling them either. Riley: I’m sorry. I thought you’d want them here. They want to be here for you. Lucas: I know.

But it’s complicated. Sure, it’s a comfort to have his best people around, but it’s also embarrassing. He kind of wants to crawl under a rock right now and disappear, and that doesn’t pair naturally with socializing. He understands Riley’s instincts, especially since it’s her, and he doesn’t hold it against her. He just doesn’t want to involve any more people than necessary. This is doubly true for Isa, considering…

Lucas: They’ve got their own stuff going on right now. I want them to focus on that, not get roped back into my bullshit. I’m inconveniencing enough people as it is. Riley: It’s not an inconvenience. Lucas: Just… can you do that for me? Please? Do me that one favor.

Riley still seems certain withholding the news is a bad idea… but when he looks at her like that, so gentle and tired, and asks so little of her, she doesn’t see how she could refuse. If she wants to help him, and that’s all he wants from her, how could she reasonably say no?

So she relents, keeping the ball in his court. She nods and takes his wrist, soothingly rubbing her thumb against his forearm. He offers a weak smile.

He also takes care to remind her that she has class in the morning, as well as rehearsals that afternoon, so she should not feel compelled to spend all night wasting away in here with him. He doesn’t want her to mess up her own stuff because of him. Riley confirms she knows that, and isn’t, but she also makes zero moves to go anywhere else.

If it comes down to want, there’s no place Riley would rather be than in the trenches with him.

INT. THE LAST BOOKSTORE - SECOND FLOOR - DAY

Meanwhile, Isa remains oblivious and is having a good time, having spent most of the afternoon visiting Los Angeles staples with Farkle. They’ve ended up at the famous Last Bookstore in downtown L.A., with its endless rows of shelves and cool book-themed art installations.

It’s a great vehicle for getting them back in top shape, too, because nothing fuels their banter better than arguing over narratives. They’re currently bickering about some piece of classic literature that Farkle has pulled off one of the shelves, and the back and forth snaps back into place so easily. Debate is like a heartbeat, the rhythm of their dynamic that keeps them alive.

Farkle: Okay, well, I don’t know how else to say it other than just doing it, so I’ll say it again -- you’re wrong. You literally could not be more wrong. I’m concerned about your reading comprehension at this point. Isa: You’re worried, but I’m fucking relieved. Here I was, so concerned back in New York that coming out here to L.A. would make you into some sort of savant, some culturally elite media mogul, but nope! You’re just like before -- stubborn, erroneous, and out of your damn mind.

Anyone who passed by them might think they hate each other just hearing that, but the fondness dripping off Isa’s words and the amused smirks on their faces betray the opposite. This is just how they are -- and boy, does it feel good to have it again.

They make it to one of the prime draws of the bookstore, the window in the bookshelf, a popular artsy photography spot. Isa can’t help themselves, going around to the other side and pulling out their phone to snap a picture of Farkle through the books. He offers a light smile at first, just a hint of shyness -- then he makes a cracked expression, making Isa laugh as they capture that one too.

Isa: Fitting. Perfect representation.

Farkle manages to snap a couple of his own before Isa notices, and once they do, they stick their tongue out at him. He grins, then pockets his phone. Still on opposite sides, Farkle examines them for a beat before speaking again.

Farkle: Can I be honest? Isa: Were we not before? Did you think I was joking when I said you were out of your mind?

Farkle laughs mockingly, earning a proud smirk in response. But yes, he should feel free to speak his mind. It’s just Isa, after all -- if he can’t be honest with them, who’s seen the worst of him, then who?

They continue their journey as they talk, walking through the tunnel of books.

Farkle: I just thought… I was kinda worried this would be awkward. You know, like, us. Hanging out together after so long. Isa: … yeah? Farkle: Yeah. But that’s the thing, it’s not. Like, not at all. It feels just like before -- like we’re just the same as we always are.

Isa turns to look at him, the two of them standing close together to fit in the tunnel. In their mind, it isn’t quite just like it always used to be… if the way their heart flutters looking up at him in the shadows of the literature around them is any indication.

Even so, that little detail aside… they smile.

Isa: Same. And yeah, it’s a big fucking relief.

Farkle mirrors their grin, obviously equally grateful. But all that gratitude is starting to feel a little dizzying, in such close confines, so Isa leads the way back out of the tunnel and into the light again.

Once they’re free, Isa asks how it’s possible Farkle has never come here before. Not only is it apparently a local cultural classic, but it’s like, custom built for him. Even if he didn’t feel like he could come alone -- which would be bizarre anyway -- how is it possible he didn’t at least come with Charlie?

Isa: This kind of seems like a place Charlie would be foaming at the mouth to see. Farkle: [ with a snort ] Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was one of the first places he went when he got here. He did invite me, but I couldn’t go. I had class when he wanted to go. [ with a shrug ] Otherwise, I don’t know. I thought about it, but Jordan wasn’t into it. He said it was touristy and basic and all that. I believe his exact word was “lame.” Isa: Well… [ searching for a clever retort ] he’s lame.

The diss is so half-assed and uncreative, Farkle can’t help but burst out laughing. It’s enough to catch the attention of a few other shoppers, who cast the two of them irritated glances. They quiet down and keep walking, but both of them are now working overtime to suppress their giggles.

Sorry, Los Angeles, you’ve only just begun to meet the dual menace that is Farkle Minkus and Isa De La Cruz.

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - DAY

At the same time, Justin, Melissa, and Maya are just arriving at Justin’s lake house in Malibu. It’s a spacious and rustic looking set up, with an absolutely epic view of the hills. A gorgeous open floor plan, wood finishes… it’s Hollywood glamor all right, and Maya is already loving every second of it.

Justin calls for her to make herself at home, and directs her towards the end of the hall on the first floor for her guest room. He and Melissa both have rooms on the second floor.

Already, it feels magical. Hopefully, the music will be the same.

INT. YACHT - DINING ROOM - DAY

The sun is just beginning to set on the horizon, painting the ocean golden through the windows as all the travelers settle in for a fancy dinner on the lower deck. The executives with the label are sharing this celebratory first meal with the contenders of the girl group, taking the chance to get to know them and learn more about who they might be supporting in the future.

It’s not very illuminating, though, as everyone is on their best behavior in front of the head honchos. In fact, the girls don’t speak much at all, the meal mostly being dominated by the executives loving to listen to themselves talk. They speak loftily about their high aims for the group, how this will surely be the project that reignites an enthusiasm for the art of the girl group in the public consciousness. Yindra half-listens, using more of her focus to eye the rest of the girls at the table and observe from a safe distance.

Once they’re dismissed for the evening, the head organizer informs the girls that they’ll find their room assignments posted as they head out. They didn’t think they’d all get their own rooms, did they?

INT. YACHT - YINDRA’S ROOM - NIGHT

Nope, we’re bunking in this little sailing adventure. It’s almost like sleepaway camp, two twin extra-long beds set up on opposite sides of the small wood-paneled room.

Yindra steps inside first, finding her things on the bed on the right. She starts to go through them, wondering if it’s even worth it to unpack, when her new roommate appears in the doorway a moment later.

Heather. The girl from the bus. The two of them size each other up for a beat, then break into smiles.

Heather: Okay, not to be a bitch, but I’m so damn relieved you’re my roomie.

Yindra grins, echoing the sentiment. They hit it off so well this morning, it feels like pure luck. Heather goes to her side of the bed and starts going through her things as well, commiserating about how weird that dinner felt. This whole experience is going to be odd as hell, isn’t it?

Yindra: I think that’s basically a guarantee, yeah.

Well, at least they know they’ve got an ally… or Heather hopes so. She pitches the idea to Yindra, suggesting they band together early and stick together. They already get along, and it’ll put a lot of pressure off them if they know they have a friend to socialize with from the jump. Less time stressing about cliques and small chat, more time to focus on what matters.

Yindra isn’t going to argue with that. She nods in agreement, the two of them exchanging a low-five to seal the deal.

Baby, let the games begin…

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - DAY

Lucas is without additional company early the next morning, just him and Grace occupying the waiting area chairs. Grace is finally managing to get a wink of sleep, as light and restless as it may be, head tilted back against the wall. Lucas is doing everything he can not to disturb her, even quieter than usual and lost in his own sleepless thoughts.

His efforts are for naught, as Grace awakes with a start when the double doors open and another NURSE comes out to greet them. She offers Grace an apologetic smile, then notes that Kenneth is awake and they’ll be doing some morning diagnostics and discussions about his care if they’d like to join.

Grace nods, getting to her feet -- then the nurse turns to Lucas, specifically extending the invitation to him as well. As if he isn’t sure whether he’s allowed to come back to see his father, rather than grappling with a myriad of complicated feelings about the whole thing and can’t decide if he wants to witness it or not.

But now he’s been asked so directly, it would feel even weirder to refuse. Lucas clears his throat and gets to his feet, reluctantly following Grace and the nurse through the double doors and into the deeper bowels of the hospital.

INT. HOSPITAL - KENNETH’S ROOM - DAY

When the three of them arrive, KENNETH FRIAR is already chatting up and charming the other nurse administering his morning medications. The doctor from yesterday was right -- he seems in surprisingly good spirits, not missing a beat despite the fact that he’s definitely looked better. You might even believe he’s just in for a routine visit, if you didn’t know he was dying.

Grace dutifully comes to stand by his bedside while Lucas awkwardly hangs by the wall, mainly trying to stay out of the way. Kenneth wasn’t expecting to see him, but with his good graces today, he decides to make him feel welcome.

Kenneth: Good to see you, bud. Wasn’t sure if you were here or not.

It’s a bit of a dig, actually, but Lucas is so disarmed by the nickname it doesn’t even register. Kenneth hasn’t called him that in years, basically since he was a toddler, and it became far more infrequent the more the friction between them grew and Kenneth’s temper grew less resilient. It feels like whiplash -- like pulling the stitches out of an ancient wound.

Unfortunately, the nurses won’t be able to do anything about this one.

So Lucas says nothing, offering a pathetically strained smile in response instead. Kenneth doesn’t seem all that impressed by it, but they’re distracted anyway when the doctor returns and greets them all with as much cheer as you can muster with a dying patient.

Someone might want to give that memo to Kenneth, though. For all his charm, he actually seems optimistic about the whole thing. Yes, things are bad, but maybe a rest in the excellent care of the hospital is just what he needs to rebound. Maybe he’ll pick back up before long -- he feels good enough now that he’s gotten hydrated and has the help of these lovely nurses.

Maybe it’s not so helpless after all. Who knows?

Lucas dips his head to the floor, not sure whether the denial or possibility that could be the truth is more discomforting.

EXT. YACHT - UPPER DECK - DAY

The first morning of official retreat business, Yindra finds her way out onto the upper deck before 9AM. As promised, breakfast is being catered for them, laid out on a long table manned by staff (to keep anything from blowing away with the refreshing sea breeze). There are four round tables set up to dine at, but one is relegated solely for the organizers and executives still present for the actual events of the retreat.

All around them, the view is nothing but ocean. If there was any hope of jumping ship -- metaphorically speaking -- that option has long since sailed.

In that respect, Yindra is very grateful she already has a lifeboat in her roommate. Once she plates her food and thanks the staff, she turns to scan the tables and has that new-kid terror of not knowing where to settle. It appears some personalities are already beginning to clash -- Tabitha and Sloane have chosen seats at opposite ends of the deck, though it’s not clear who chose to make it that way -- while others are already bonding together. Aleena and Ronica are seated at one table and chatting easily, commiserating with a couple other hopefuls closer to their mid-20s than teens.

Having already clocked Ronica as a rival by inheritance, Yindra doesn’t think she could break into that circle if she wanted to. That’s why it’s a relief when Heather waves her over at the third table, where she’s saved her a seat. Yindra comes to join her without missing a beat, greeting the other girls they’ve chosen to sit with.

Heather: [ quietly, to Yindra ] Throwback, right? Feels just like high school. Yindra: Girl, you have no idea.

Heather laughs, popping some fruit into her mouth. But damn, would it be nice to have some of those high school friends around right about now…

INT. YINDRA’S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY

Jade is catching up with Nigel on a video call, the two of them chatting about Yindra’s great foray into the industry unknown. Both of them are confident about her prospects, but the idea of going on a retreat with people just as eager for the opportunity as you does feel too intimidating for two introverts.

Nigel: It would be like going away on a boat, with no exit, with fifteen Mayas for a weekend. Like, what are the odds of survival? Jade: Despite the bizarre fact that I think Maya may actually be growing on me -- don’t tell Asher I said that -- yeah, I could never. Nigel: Your secret is safe with me. But if I were on that boat, I’d be jumping.

Jade laughs, settling onto her bed. We get the chance to see how she and Yindra have rearranged the space to accommodate both of them, making the most of the small space and giving cozy college roommates vibes. Nigel comments on that new arrangement, glad that Jade has found a safe and familiar place to settle but still not sure how he feels about his best friend and girlfriend shacking up.

Jade: Don’t worry, she’s not going to steal me away. Though if anyone could… Nigel: Yeah, yeah, we know. Yindra has game. No one ever kidded themselves that I was the suavest of our friend group, believe me.

Jade smiles affectionately, blowing him a kiss through the camera. While the topic is on the table, Nigel tries to take advantage of it without being too suss… speaking of their relationship, how is Jade feeling about it? Since she hopped coasts, how is she feeling about long distance?

Jade: Good. Weirdly enough, I actually don’t think it’s made that much of a difference? I mean, obviously I miss you. It takes a bit more work. And some days after too much needle work, boy do I crave one of those neck kisses you’re so good at -- Nigel: [ clearing his throat ] Well… Jade: [ with a mischievous smile ] And that too. I miss your utterly ridiculous embarrassment about anything remotely beyond PG even though it’s just the two of us talking and we’ve been dating for a year. It’s adorable. But otherwise, I’m doing okay. Think we’re handling it pretty well. [ a beat ] Why? Are you not okay? Nigel: No! No, no, I’m good. I’m also -- all of that. I echo it, one-hundred percent.

He was just… curious. That’s all. How they seemed to be faring with it all. Good news, it seems, but he just wanted to check in. 

And because maybe, just perhaps, their distance might be that much longer before too long. Nigel doesn’t say that, letting the conversation move on, but it’s on his mind as he files her response away for later.

INT. YACHT - LOWER DECK - DAY

For the first true retreat activity, they’ve relocated to the lower deck. Most of the space is dedicated to a green room-esque conference space, which for this weekend they’ll be using as a multipurpose activity room. There’s a long table at the end where the label reps and organizers will sit throughout the events.

To start off, they’ll be doing a harmonizing workshop in an effort to see how different combinations of their voices sound together. There will also be opportunities for small solos throughout, but the time to show off their vocals will come later. For now, this exercise is about blend and harmony.

Simple enough. Yindra believes she can handle that. They get broken into groups of five to start, based on the voice parts they identified with in their paperwork and intro videos. Then, they’re handed some sheet music of popular music that they’re expected to quickly pick up -- a sight-singing test, in a way.

From where she’s been grouped with Kimmy and Sloane, along with two other girls, Yindra exhales a deep breath. She’s not the best at sight-singing, but she got enough practice at Adams. When they receive their sheet music, Kimmy makes a small noise of nervousness of her own.

Kimmy: Gosh, I don’t think I’ve done this since choir class in junior year.

Sloane is also squinting at the page, but she doesn’t look anxious as much as she does unimpressed.

Sloane: Top 40 I see. Suppose we won’t be breaking the mold much sound-wise with this, will we…

It’s an industry-produced girl group, babe -- you’re not doing musical rocket science. Yindra doesn’t comment, keeping her focus on her own work. They’ve got a minute to review their parts before they start doing run-throughs, so no time to waste. But no pressure…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “No Pressure” as performed by Mahalia || Performed by Yindra Amino (feat. Girl Group Hopefuls)

Though not what they’re actually singing in the exercise, Yindra’s emotions leak through in what she sings with this groovy R&B track. It’s an apt reflection of what this process in the industry has felt like so far -- something that the other girls there can probably relate to as well. Fitting, as they harmonize on the backing vocals and take a few of the solo lines as the activity unfolds.

While the performance continues, we watch transitions between each combination of ladies in camera rotations and subtle fades. Girls are swapped in and out like dolls, just pawns in the larger game rather than individuals.

When Ronica takes Yindra’s place at one point and sings one of the solo riffs in the number, we can see the anxiety build on Yindra’s shoulders. Ronica is talented, with a great voice -- and she rests exactly in the same range as Yindra. If they weren’t technically competition before, they certainly are now, even if just strictly from a vocal perspective.

Can't go wrong with the right team, no pressure You ain't never gonna get no, get no better

This process of revolving ladies and morphing harmonies goes on until the track peters out, leaving us with the view of Yindra on the sidelines. Just benched for now, while another combination is being tested -- but dreading that it’s an early signal of what’s to come.

No better, no pressure…

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

Pressure might just be the word of the weekend, as Maya is the one feeling it now. Even though she came into the songwriting retreat with high hopes, it’s off to a rocky start. She’s been in the studio room with Melissa and Justin basically all afternoon, but they’ve got nothing yet to show for it.

Basically, the creative juices are not flowing. Every seemingly bright idea seems to hit a dead-end. Justin is starting to lose interest, reclined back on the leather couch and tossing a hacky-sack absent-mindedly while Melissa and Maya continue to mine their collective brain power for any good start.

The main problem, it appears, is that for all her efforts to relinquish some control, Maya still finds herself clashing with her producing team. They all have ample enthusiasm, but their vision for what Maya should do next seems to have fundamental friction. They want more of what’s already proven to work; Maya wants to push boundaries and stretch her sound, at least once before this EP finishes. She doesn’t want to get pigeon-holed before her career even really starts.

Ultimately, a disjointed vision can only lead to uninspired collaboration. After another thought goes nowhere, Melissa’s energy starting to wane as well, Justin gets to his feet and declares he’s gonna order lunch.

Maya: Now? Shouldn’t we push through until we have… I don’t know, a starting concept? Maybe a verse? Justin: Babe, if we wait for that to happen, we’ll be skin and bone. [ heading for the door ] I’m thinking pizza. We can splurge, because it’s the company’s dime. Mel, pineapple or no? Melissa: Fuck you.

Justin laughs as he exits, claiming he’ll go pick it up along with some other goods for the weekend. Once he’s gone, Melissa releases a sigh, rubbing her temples.

Melissa: Maybe we should just outsource to the label for the rest of this EP. I’m sure they’ve got other “Haute Stuff” in their repository. If we can round out this project with solid bangers, that’ll buy us some more time to -- Maya: No!

Maya is almost too quick to reject that idea. She doesn’t mean to bulldoze -- not this early, anyway -- but she feels strongly that she needs to have as large a presence as possible in her output. She doesn’t want to be another hack, and she has the deep instinct that becoming a one-note wonder is going to be a death sentence. It might bring in the money, but it won’t lend her the credit and accolades she desires. It won’t help her ascension to true pop relevance.

Melissa raises her hands in surrender, claiming she’s with Maya on this. She wants them to craft their own hits if they can hack it.

That just means they better start getting some good ideas, and fast. Maya chews her lip, feeling the heat.

INT. YACHT - LOWER DECK - DAY

The heat persists on the open seas as the girls move into their next activity -- dance workshop. As is traditional with many girl groups, choreography will be a big part of their jobs, and proficiency in keeping the beat and selling moves will be a major must. So they’re teaching them a routine today that they’ll be tested on later, to see how they deliver it.

Theoretically, this shouldn’t be a big deal for Yindra. She went to Adams, where there was no shortage of choreography. Many of her good friends are into dance, so some of that has rubbed off on her. She knows she can hold her own and step through an intermediate routine.

But in a competition as tight as this, holding her own might not be enough. Even as they’re learning the routine and doing soft run-throughs, it’s hard not to feel like she’s falling to the back of the pack. Immediate standouts emerge -- Aleena’s movements are confident and fluid, demonstrative of her obvious dance training. Sloane is a surprisingly strong dancer, sharp and precise and not afraid to show off her flexibility. Kimmy’s stated love for dance shines through even now, full of energy and natural personality. And although she’s full of hot air and her TikTok dances are silly at best, Madysin can carry a beat.

Yindra isn’t the worst dancer there, but she’s far from the best. If she only ranks “middle of the pack” in the categories that matter, that’s only gonna put her somewhere in the top ten -- and not guaranteed as one of the final five who make the group.

She’s lost in her head about it enough to lose focus and miss a couple of steps on this run-through, causing Tabitha to run into her with her bony elbows. She shoots her a disgruntled look, which Yindra grimaces at apologetically. Her bad.

And man, how much badder is it going to get?

Choreographer: Nice, ladies. Let’s put it all together now and see how it goes. [ clapping them in ] Five, six, seven --

EXT. YACHT - UPPER DECK - DAY

On a much-needed break, Yindra escapes to the deck to get some fresh air. It’s the only place she can flee, anyway -- they’re on a boat. She leans against the railing and closes her eyes, letting the sea breeze brush her face and trying to calm her nerves.

Yindra: Zay Babineaux, give me the strength…

Dance blessings are seriously what she needs right now! She’s startled slightly when someone steps over to join her, but it’s a relief when it’s only Heather. And she comes bearing gifts -- a virgin cocktail from the kitchen. They’ve earned it after this day so far, being grilled from every angle.

Heather: Alcohol would’ve been preferred, trust me. But best I can do.

Yindra scoffs a laugh, thanking her anyway and accepting the drink. As they sip their cocktails, Heather starts to commiserate about the experience so far… and given their insecurities, it’s hard not to gossip.

Heather: I don’t know if you noticed, but that Sloane girl has a killer high-kick. Thought she was gonna knock my teeth out. Yindra: OMG, I know. I was surprised. I wouldn’t rule it out either. Heather: Total surprise. I got the impression she wasn’t into this whole thing, just based on her attitude. That showing at dance didn’t track though. Yindra: … no, for real. When we were doing the harmonies workshop, she legit said some shady stuff about the music we were rehearsing with. Like this is probably going to be par for the course of… whatever this ends up being. You know that, right? Heather: Ugh, that’s so fucked. I can’t stand that. Like, if you’re not into this whole thing, why are you here? When there’s girls like us who are dying for this opportunity?

It is a choice… although, Yindra can kind of understand it. Not just because she has experience with folks like Zay, but also because a girl group wasn’t her first choice either. It wasn’t how she envisioned her career going, but it’s a path, and in this industry it feels like you better take what you can get. She may not echo Sloane’s dismissive attitude, but she can relate to the sense of having to follow a trail you aren’t sure you want to go down.

She gets the nuances, but she doesn’t say them, because it’s way more gratifying to bitch about it with a friend and soak up the self-pity for a minute. Heather shrugs and offers a toast, tapping her glass against Yindra’s.

Heather: Made it this far, at least. Cheers, bitch. Yindra: Cheers.

And who knows what’s to come.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - NIGHT

Having returned for the evening, Isa is slouched on the couch while waiting for Farkle to return from his room. They’re fiddling with their phone, instinctively going into their message thread with Zachary and exiting again when they think better of it. What is there to say, anyway?

They ruined everything; they left. That should be the end of that, for the best of everyone involved.

Farkle seems to read their mind when he reenters, flopping over the arm of the arm chair and reclining into it as he asks if Zachary has reached out. Isa claims no, pocketing their phone.

Isa: Don’t blame ‘em. Farkle: They probably just don’t know what to say. It’s kind of a whack situation -- I don’t know that I’d know what to do either. Isa: You, not knowing how to handle a fiasco? Shocking. Farkle: Hey, I wouldn’t be throwing stones. Your glass house is looking especially shiny right now.

Isa rolls their eyes. Anyway, they make a point of thanking Farkle again for letting them seek refuge here regardless of what happens. They know they’re intruding.

Farkle: Dude. You’re our -- my -- friend. Anyway I can help, you know you don’t even have to ask.

Even so, Isa seems uncomfortable with the intrusion. They state that if this persists too long, they’ll try to figure out alternate accommodations fast -- whether that’s a temporary dig here, or going back to New York sooner than expected. They don’t want to take advantage… and they don’t necessarily want to push things with Maya. Farkle frowns.

Farkle: I swear, she doesn’t mind. I can talk to her about -- Isa: No. No, it’s fine. Like I said, I’ll figure it out. Thanks though.

Farkle doesn’t seem convinced, but Isa changes topics. They’re starving -- what’s for dinner? There’s a lot of variety to choose from in Los Angeles, so the world is their oyster. But that doesn’t make Farkle any less indecisive.

Isa: Yeesh. Jordan really did sand you down, didn’t he? Where’s the overly opinionated, obnoxious tastemaker of Adams Academy? [ kicking his shin with their foot ] Hello, anyone in there?

Farkle’s turn to roll his eyes. He fends off Isa’s socked feet with his own and then shrugs.

Farkle: To be fair, I don’t think that mellowing started with Jordan. I would attribute that more to spending a full year stuck between you and Maya, two of the loudest -- Isa: [ ignoring that ] Don’t overthink it. I want your real, most base desires right now. I’m saying it’s dinner time -- what do you want to eat? What comes to mind? First thing. Now. NOW. Farkle: Okay, okay! Um, ahh [ blurting it out ] New York style pizza!

Isa raises their eyebrows, somewhat amused. Seriously? All the culinary world at his fingertips, and that’s what Farkle picks?

Farkle: Sorry, you put pressure on me. I panicked. And I don’t know, you said you wanted base. It can’t get much more base than that. Isa: I’m just surprised. You didn’t even like pizza that much when we were in New York. Farkle: Yes, well, the heart wants what it wants. And you don’t really know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

Anyway, it’s lame, perhaps, but Isa asked for it. That’s all he’s got. If they want to tease him and pick something better, be his guest.

But Isa isn’t going to judge him. They aren’t going to deny him a basic bitch moment -- and they aren’t snooty enough to think they could do better. Instead, they claim they’re going to find some damn New York style pizza then, reaching for his laptop and starting a Google search.

Farkle can’t help but smile, gaze lingering just a bit while Isa is distracted with their research.

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - NIGHT

Meanwhile, the night holds very different prospects for the lake house retreat. Melissa and Maya are debating what to do for dinner themselves when there’s a knock at the door, both of them exchanging an intrigued look. Justin went out to grab weed an hour or so ago, but he wouldn’t be knocking… would he?

Apparently so. When Melissa goes to open the door, it’s not just Justin on the other side. He seems to have brought along half the neighborhood with him -- a bunch of young creatives looking for a good time.

Justin: Thought we could use a little pick-me-up… and I may have just taken it to an extreme.

But what better way is there to loosen up? That’s that -- they’re hosting a rager tonight. That’ll get their energy back up, not to mention it’s a great opportunity to network. Maya and Melissa exchange smiles.

Maya: Let’s party!

Yeehaw! The crowd cheers as Justin leads them inside, just as a bass-heavy, catchy party tune briefly fills the soundscape. And no one does it better, particularly for millennials…

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Backstabber” as performed by Kesha || Instrumental

A montage unfurls the party for us, showing the progression of the night in high energy, fun bursts. It’s about as classic Hollywood vignette as you can get, full of interesting, pretty people and plenty of interesting substances. Justin and Melissa make excellent hosts, gregarious and generous with their space, and it’s clear that they’re known entities in this part of Malibu.

Maya fits into their world near seamlessly, to her credit. Her charm is on full blast as she sips a mixed punch out of a red Solo cup, but she’s more focused on making good impressions. Given her starry personality and undeniable good looks, it’s not hard.

The only snag in her rapport comes when Justin invites her over to meet one of his female producing friends by the bar, KELSI (30s), pointing out that they were just about to take a line of cocaine -- a staple of most industry gatherings like this. Does she want to join?

Justin: Kelsi here is the master of lining ‘em up right. Kelsi: It doesn’t take a PhD, J. You just have shaky hands.

Justin fakes offense, patting his chest like he’s been wounded. Maya ignores the exchange, eyeing the powder cut into lines on the bartop apprehensively. She’s dabbled in lighter fare before -- like weed with Isa and Farkle now and then back in senior year -- but this feels like a whole other level. And that was with friends; that was in a scenario where she was sure she was safe.

But this is safe too, isn’t it? She trusts Melissa and Justin -- they wouldn’t put her in a dangerous situation. Not when they have both personal and professional interest in one another and maintaining this relationship. And what does she know about safety -- look at her and Isa and Farkle now. It’s a clusterfuck.

Even so, her instincts win out this time. She politely declines to partake, and despite Justin’s playful boo-ing in response, they take it in stride. She’s spared from having to dwell on it further when Melissa comes over and claims she has friends she wants to introduce her to, dragging her away.

Justin and Kelsi go on their way, leaning over the counter to take their hits. The music builds until the bass almost feels unbearable --

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - NIGHT

Until it cuts off abruptly, drawn in sharp contrast to the oppressive quiet of the hospital.

Asher is taking his first shift with Lucas alone, staying with him until non-familial visitors are required to leave for the night. The two of them aren’t talking much, but Lucas doesn’t seem bothered by that -- he honestly prefers it. It’s part of what made them compatible friends in the first place, being able to enjoy companionable silence. Asher sits cross-legged in his chair and idly spins a fidget spinner.

Waiting for nothing doesn’t make it easier, though. Lucas is restless, slouched in his chair and bouncing his leg compulsively. He watches the nurses and doctors that come in and out of the back hallways like a hawk, not sure whether he wants them to be coming for him or not. Not sure if he wants news, or never wants to hear another word about his father.

After another minute of this, Asher reaches out and gently touches Lucas’s knee, freezing his movement. When Lucas glances at him, he offers a nonchalant explanation.

Asher: You’re making me nauseous.

It’s his matter-of-fact delivery that somehow breaks the tension. Lucas releases a chuckle, stretching his legs out to deter further bounce.

Lucas: Sorry. [ off his unbothered shrug ] Does that actually do anything? Asher: What? Lucas: That… toy. Thing. Asher: Oh, the spinner? Weirdly, yeah. Like, I doubted it for a long time too, but bizarrely, it does help. Just like… anxious tendencies. I’ve started using it a lot more in class, if I start to feel weird during lectures. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but I feel like the mindless movement of using your hands kind of distracts the brain or something. Makes it less effective at needless panic. [ brightening ] Oh, that reminds me --

Good thing Lucas brought it up. Asher reaches into his messenger bag and retrieves something from the inner pocket. He passes it to Lucas, who accepts it with mild confusion.

A Spongebob-themed fidget spinner.

Asher: There you go, try it for yourself. Good thing you reminded me. Dylan wanted me to give that to you -- since he couldn’t be here now, he thought he could at least let you borrow that in his stead until he could be.

Of course. Lucas turns it over in his fingers, observing the faded yellow and chipped paint from many a Dylan fidget.

Lucas: Looks like it’s seen better days. Asher: It’s one of his oldest ones. Not to mention his favorite. Unsurprisingly, he was the one who convinced me to try using one for myself -- though his use stems from the ADHD.

Well, not like Lucas has any reason to object. Or anything better to do, other than sit there and let his thoughts consume him. He glances at Asher to get a feel for the motions, how he’s supposed to hold it and all that, but fidget spinners are one of the most user-friendly inventions there is. There’s not really a wrong way to go about it.

Another minute of quiet. This time, Lucas breaks it.

Lucas: It’s kind of ironic that both of my most experienced friends in this field aren’t here right now. You know… dead parents. Asher: True. Though life rarely operates in helpful methods. Lucas: Does he ever talk to you about it? [ a beat, cautious ] His mom?

Asher contemplates the question, thinking about how best to respond.

Asher: Not a lot? Sometimes. When we were earlier in our relationship, I’d prompt him to talk about it sometimes, just because I felt like he wouldn’t ever if I didn’t. You know Dylan, I mean, you kind of have to nudge him into talking about the gloomier stuff, even if it would do him good. But I don’t think he’s necessarily avoiding it either, at least not consciously. Lucas: Yeah. Asher: Honestly, I think it’s mostly just that he doesn’t really have a lot to say about it. He loved his mom, still does, but the truth is he doesn’t really remember her. Or any of what happened. He was only like, seven when she passed away. Grant was even younger. I think he likes to believe he remembers way more than he actually does, but none of it is the actual death. I guess you don’t really retain that stuff the same way, when you’re younger.

Unlike now, when Lucas is two decades into life and already blessed with trauma to last him a lifetime.

Asher: That’s not to say he wouldn’t be helpful if he were here. That’s kind of Dylan’s charm, you know, that he’s useful in any situation. Just how he is. But I don’t think his experience could really be called expertise. Because of his age, and because… you know, it just… isn’t the same. Kenneth is… Lucas: Different.

Yeah… can’t say much more than that. And Lucas doesn’t seem keen to either, his conversational burst ebbing away as swiftly as it appeared. Asher doesn’t push him, giving him an empathetic glance before letting his attention drift back to his spinner.

Lucas keeps his blank gaze towards the hospital doors, waiting for nothing, fingers absentmindedly turning the fidget spinner.

INT. YACHT - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT

That evening, the girls are gathered in the cozy main floor. The organizers claim they’re giving them the “night off,” which is instead being spent on some girl bonding time. They’ll be watching movies, true slumber party style! The pressure is off for the evening, so just vibe! Have fun! Get to know each other!

That’s a cute idea, albeit totally forced. And it’s not like the pressure is totally off, as the organizers and some industry reps are still present, hanging on the couches in the back of the room but still observing everything. Despite the cutesy presentation, it’s hard to shake the sense that this whole thing is just another test of some sort.

They get to choose the movie, out of a selection on a table, and some girls do not hesitate to jump in and try to dictate what they watch. Tabitha immediately goes for Bring It On, declaring it the winner.

Kimmy: I was going to say Clueless. I love that movie. Sloane: Lots of chick flicks here… it’s almost as if we’re a boat full of women. What ingenious thinking… Tabitha: Whatever, I called first. Heather: Um, who died and made you queen, friend? Madysin: Yeah, I vote with Kimmy. Clueless supremacy. Tabitha: This isn’t a democracy, girls. It’s a cheerocracy. And I declare you all overruled.

Fierce debate continues, pulling more girls into the discussion. It’s all playful, mostly, though there is a subtle edge to it all just under the surface. Sloane loses interest quickly and slouches onto a couch in the far corner.

Yindra stays out of it, for better or worse, keeping to her perch on one of the other couches. Aleena is seated a spot or two away, and can’t help but make commentary.

Aleena: Letting a bunch of competitive women fight over what movie to watch, but dressing it up as an adorable slumber party vibe -- yeah. That’ll bond us in no time. That’s how the female brain works, after all.

She said it mostly to herself, but Yindra can’t help but snort. She casts a glance in Aleena’s direction, the two making eye contact… then after a moment they exchange smiles.

It doesn’t last long, as Ronica returns from the kitchen to bring drinks over for her and Aleena. Once she settles back down between them, Yindra feels like she has to turn away. Which feels equally stupid -- they’ve all known each other for twenty-four hours. Why does she have this feeling that dynamics are set in stone, that she has to have these rivalries with people she doesn’t even know?

Guess the industry has a way of bringing it out in you -- with basically no effort.

Ronica: Are they done picking yet? Aleena: Mm, no, the fun is just getting started. Ronica: Typical. Glad I didn’t wait for drinks.

Indeed. And the drama is heating up a bit -- Tabitha and Madysin have gotten into a heated argument with two of the other younger girls, enough of a spat that the organizer feels the need to step in and ask them to simmer down. Kimmy politely raises her hand.

Kimmy: Could we maybe do a vote instead? That way it’s fair for everyone. Organizer: That sounds like a great idea, thank you, Kimmy.

So democracy wins after all! Kimmy smiles. Tabitha rolls her eyes, crossing her arms.

All that over a pick for a stilted movie night… well, two more days to go. Yindra clasps her hands together and takes a deep breath, settling in for a long evening.

EXT. L.A. APARTMENT - ROOFTOP - NIGHT

As promised, Isa and Farkle have obtained a New York style pizza. They’ve decided to eat it up on the rooftop for the ambience, each peeling off their first large slice and trying not to make a mess as they eat over the box. Isa folds their slice in half and offers it in a toast towards Farkle, who smiles and knocks their crust together.

Once they start to dig in, Isa questions why Farkle didn’t bother to cave to his base impulses sooner than this. Like, one night of less-than-couture cuisine surely won’t ding his trendy new Los Angeles reputation. Farkle snorts, dismissing that sentiment, but it doesn’t take long to identify the source of the reluctance. Once he’s done chewing, he confides it.

Farkle: Jordan was a picky eater. Not so much in taste, but like… in taste. He wanted to be doing the new thing, the fresh thing, always one step ahead. And in some ways that was cool, like I really liked getting to be in on the trends and kind of have this insight into it all. You know, as someone who is perpetually and effortlessly uncool. So I appreciated that about him -- Isa: [ with their mouth full ] Mm-mm. No. We’re not complimenting him. Save the sugarcoating and down-playing for someone who cares. Farkle: [ out of habit ] He seriously wasn’t that --

Isa shakes their head and interrupts his weak defenses, reaching over the pizza box to press a sauce-slicked finger against his lips. No Jordan defenses. Farkle wrinkles his nose and starts to shove their hand away, but then thinks better of it and licks the sauce on their finger instead.

Isa pulls their hand away and scrunches their face, pretending to gag, but they can’t ignore the tiny, odd thrill that rises in their stomach at the same time. They choose to ignore it.

Farkle: Anyway, I guess part of it was that. Because at first, when I got here, I just wanted to… like, fit in, and do this right, and not ostracize myself from the jump since I’m so good at doing that. So I second-guessed myself because of that. Then, when Jordan came into the picture, it was that only tripled, because I wanted to impress him and not do anything that might lessen his perception of me. Including being inclined to enjoy knock-off New York pizza when I’m surrounded by the culinary treasures of Los Angeles.

Isa frowns slightly. They can’t help but wonder when Farkle picked up those insecurities -- when he suddenly decided it was worth caring what everyone else thinks.

Isa: For the record, I think anything you like is inherently and fundamentally leagues better than whatever Jordan Nelson thinks is top-tier. Just saying. Farkle: Uh-huh, sure. You’re not biased or anything. Isa: Not at all. Farkle: In any case, doesn’t matter now. Since, that’s… you know. Over. [ with a laugh ] You know, it’s kind of funny, but considering how everyone was jumping down my throat about him -- rightfully so -- I expected the news of his departure to be way more celebratory. Like, when I told Maya, I’m surprised she didn’t throw a damn party. Or at least say I told you so. If anyone would have been happy, I would’ve assumed her.

Isa shrugs, taking a bite of their pizza.

Isa: I don’t think it’s weird at all. Farkle: Seriously? You, the runner-up royalty of loving to be right, don’t think it’s strange that Maya, the queen of loving to be right, wasn’t thrilled that I finally dumped her least favorite person on planet Earth? Isa: Hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That role is reserved for Asher and Asher alone in Maya’s heart. [ off his eye roll ] But no, it’s not surprising to me. Farkle: Why not? Isa: Maya is your best friend. She loves you more than anyone else. Like, she’d defend any of her friends -- albeit with occasional bragging, if applicable -- but you’re a different league. You’re special to her. She would go to hell and back for you, and even if she were right, she would never rub it in your face if you got hurt. It’s different with you.

A feeling Isa knows all too well… while Farkle processes that perspective, they can’t help but vocalize it.

Isa: You’re special, Farkle. I always figured you knew that, given… your whole being, but if you don’t I’m saying it now to make it abundantly clear. You are one of a kind, and I hope it’s more than obvious now that Jordan is a pretentious shit who never deserved you. You deserve someone who gets you, where you don’t have to feel like you have to second-guess everything you do. [ a beat ] You need someone who knows how special you are.

Pretty specific criteria… and something Isa seems pretty confident speaking about. But once they’ve said so, it’s like it’s glued them in place. Farkle just looks at them, taking in their words, and Isa can’t seem to look away; to disrupt the static or break their gaze.

In fact, it kind of feels like gravity holding them in place. Pulling them closer… Isa might even be stupid enough to lean in…

But no. That’s insane. Farkle just broke up with Jordan, and he’s vulnerable right now. He’s looking for comfort; he’s looking for a friend. That’s all this moment is -- that’s all they are.

So Isa redirects before they can do anything unwise, glancing down at the pizza box between them.

Isa: Not gonna lie, though, this pizza is kinda ass.

Farkle bursts into laughter, before admitting he has to agree. Though what were they expecting, trying to find authentic New York style pizza in L.A.? It’s a travesty, really. They banter back and forth a bit about what to do with it -- Farkle supposes they’ll have to torture themselves with finishing it, since they did put the time and effort into obtaining it, but Isa brushes that off. Life’s too short for bad pizza! Carpe diem!

Farkle: Well, what are we supposed to do with it, exactly?

Isa shrugs coyly, grabbing the pizza box and getting to their feet. They rattle off some nonsense about fate and happenstance and oh, what if the wind just happened to snatch their happiness and carry their pizza away… before “accidentally” stumbling and tossing the pizza box off the side of the roof.

Farkle gasps, cursing and getting to his feet.

Farkle: Holy shit -- Isa: Whoops!

Whoops indeed -- especially for the poor residents of Larchmont unfamiliar with the unique chaos of Farkle Minkus and Isa De La Cruz. Because seconds later, they hear a loud cuss from down below.

Unfortunate Passerby: What in the everloving fuck?!

WHOOPS! Suppose better a falling pizza than say, a piano or an anvil. Nevertheless, Isa and Farkle are beside themselves. Isa breaks into cackles as they fumble back towards Farkle and duck down into a crouch, as if the victim of their pizza prank will float up and come looking for them. Farkle kneels down next to them, equally punchy, easily won over by the unapologetic disaster that is Isa.

At this rate, with all their laughter, someone might assume they were drunk up there causing all this havoc. But in fact, that’s just the effects of being with each other.

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - NIGHT

The party is still rolling at the lake house, but Maya is starting to lose her spark. She’s feeling a bit fish out of water, younger than most of the folks present and still the new kid in the mix. She’s still only nursing a mild intoxication from alcohol, while most of the other partiers are well into a high of a mix of substances.

It’s a vulnerable position to be in, standing alone on the sidelines while her hosts are busy hosting others. Justin and Melissa seem so effortlessly cool, chatting up their friends and right in their element in this industry scene. A scene Maya knows she’ll need to master, if she wants her career to go the way she wants.

She’s not used to this feeling, this sensation of feeling two steps behind.

But perhaps it shouldn’t be so unfamiliar. When she thinks about it, it’s been remarkably easy for her to be left behind in other ways. Her phone buzzing in her pocket almost serves as a cosmic reminder of that, gifting her a text from Farkle.

“Hey, hope the retreat is going well! Bet you’re writing some epic stuff. Just wanted to give you the heads up -- I don’t know what’s going to happen with Isa’s housing situation right now, but if they can’t manage to fix it, I feel like we should really consider letting them stay with us. I know things aren’t totally chill with you guys, and I wanna respect that, but I still think we should do it. I can find a way to keep the peace and make it work. We’ll talk more when you’re back, but wanted to just float it now”

For some reason, this hits Maya harder than she expects. Maybe it’s the Malibu vodka talking. Maybe it’s the sense that she just got Farkle back, just freed him from the clutches of a soul-sucking monster, only for him to turn around and jump off another cliff without waiting for her to catch up. She moved out here to be with him, to tackle this insane industry together, but it seems there’s always something -- or someone -- more important. He’s always got bigger things to focus on.

And theoretically, so does she. She has a new social scene right here, opening its arms to her. Justin and Melissa are giving her plenty of attention, lots of opportunities. They don’t see her as old news, but the next best thing. They believe in her.

She can’t afford to fall behind. Not now. Not when everyone else has already left her in the dust.

So she steels her resolve, ignoring Farkle’s text and pushing down whatever mixed feelings it tugged out of her gut. She weaves through the crowd until she finds Justin and Melissa again, just about to start a new line of coke.

Perfect timing. Maya grins and claims she hopes Justin cut it good this time -- she wants to give it a try.

This is met with excited cheers and a clap on the shoulders from Justin. Exactly the electric reception Maya had been hoping for.

She lets Melissa guide her towards the counter and faces the lines, just waiting for her to take the nose dive. With classic Maya determination, she gathers her blonde hair behind her and takes a deep breath. Before she leans down --

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - NIGHT

The clock on the wall ticks on, reading just a few minutes after two in the morning. It’s just Grace and Lucas again in the seats, only this time Grace is the one still awake. Lucas has grown exhausted enough to doze off without realizing it, somehow contorting his body to curl up and huddle in on himself while his head is tilted against the wall. Suppose after a few years, you get used to making do and fitting into small corners of reprieve.

Much like him this morning, Grace isn’t making any effort to disturb his rest. She stays quiet as a mouse, only glancing up at him occasionally to ensure he’s still resting.

The peace doesn’t last much longer.

In the distance, beyond the double doors, a relentless high-pitched beeping picks up. The intercom above them suddenly crackles to life, a voice calmly stating code blue. It repeats it a couple of times, with eerie efficiency, loud enough to startle Lucas awake. He’s delirious for a second, totally forgetting where they are or why they’re there.

That blissful ignorance is also fleeting. Footsteps are heavy on the other side of doors, movement of people on a mission -- and then moments later, nurses and doctors push a gurney through the doors, headed fast for the ICU.

A gurney carrying Kenneth.

Lucas is damn well awake now. Both he and Grace leap to their feet, the latter stumbling slightly. Lucas reaches out to hold her steady, and she is brave enough to ask a nurse what is happening. When no one responds, Lucas picks up the slack, using some of his inherited presence from his ailing father. He has a way about him, it has to be said, that can demand attention.

Lucas: Hey!

A couple of nurses jump, whipping around. The rest carry on without them, pushing Kenneth through another set of doors. Now that they’ve got some attention, Lucas’s temporary confidence evaporates. So Grace takes over, again urgently asking what the hell is going on. Where are they taking Kenneth, and what’s code blue?

Nurse: Your husband suffered a sudden cardiac arrest at approximately 2:07AM -- Lucas: Cardiac arrest? Grace: Is he okay? Nurse: That’s what we’re hoping for. Luckily, he’s in just about the best place possible to suffer heart failure. Lucas: But is he going to be okay?

Well… they can’t answer that. They won’t know until they know. The nurses excuse themselves and chase after the group from earlier, leaving Grace and Lucas to absorb that shock alone. The reality that that could be it, that it could happen just like that -- that it really could happen at any moment, and they just have to accept that. As much as their logical minds may have known this, the rest of them can’t seem to catch up.

But no way are they getting any more sleep tonight. As the hypnotic bass line floats in…

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Pretty Little Birds” as performed by SZA || Instrumental

The transition away from the hospital almost feels like it’s happening in a dream, hazy and psychedelic. That’s the vibe Maya is immersed in right now, thoroughly enjoying the loose feeling and free mind of her first cocaine trip. The music is somewhat echo-y, and occasionally glitchy, like it’s skipping on a record player. She’s full of energy and confidence again, but it’s also numbed a bit by the earlier alcohol, so all in all it’s disorienting to see it from our angle.

The whole experience is artistically obscured, Maya enthusiastically grooving to herself in the shadows and slashes of light. It’s hard to tell if the party is even still going on, or where exactly she is -- because she’s mentally somewhere else entirely. Occasionally, she’ll pause in a beam of light and reach out to catch wisps of fog passing around her… ones that appear to be iridescent lines of music or lyrics, shimmering in her grasp for half a second until it floats away again.

Another night and day contrast between coasts, no matter how synthetic and fabricated it might be. For now, it’s freedom, and Maya will take it. She tilts her head back and launches into a spin, breaking into laughter as light begins to drown out the screen.

Once we’re swallowed by burning white --

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - MAYA’S ROOM - DAY

Sunshine is gleaming through the windows, indicating it’s well into the morning when Maya finally stirs back in reality. She’s still in her clothes from the night before, seemingly just having crashed on her bed after the wild night. She manages to sit up and runs a hand through her messy hair, having trouble shaking off the daze.

The strange part is, she honestly can’t remember much of it. She remembers she had fun, and that it was an interesting and energizing experience. But otherwise, it’s all a blur, a blank slate of nothing. It unsettles her a bit, actually. If that’s the trade-off, a bit of a bump to heighten the spirits doesn’t seem worth it.

That is, until she leans back and hears something crinkle loudly underneath her. She sits up and rolls onto her knees, discovering a bunch of papers ripped from her journals scattered on the bed. She must’ve fallen asleep with them last night. Confused, she picks them up and starts to flip through them.

It’s song ideas. New song ideas, and evidently not bad ones based on the way her expression lights up. So much for writer’s block -- she has a whole treasure trove here, that she must’ve apparently dashed out during her creatively buzzed cocaine high.

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - DAY

Melissa and Justin are both already up, chatting idly in the kitchen while they have coffee. They’re seasoned regulars to the L.A. coke scene, so they don’t have nearly as much of a hangover.

They greet Maya happily when she finally emerges from her room, remarking on how she hasn’t changed yet. Did she really just crash like that? They pick on her with fond amusement -- baby’s first coke dip!

Maya can humor the teasing, as she doesn’t have time to be indignant. She’s way too excited about the gold she discovered this morning, handing out the papers to both of them and claiming the blockade has ended. Whatever that party did last night, it worked. They’re back in business!

Based on their reactions, her excitement isn’t unfounded. This is definitely more than they had yesterday, so they’ll fucking take it! Melissa exchanges a high-five with Maya, while Justin comes around the counter and picks her up from behind to spin her around.

Justin: Fucking magic, this one. What am I always fucking saying? Melissa: A little partying always does the trick, that’s what.

Justin barks a laugh. True enough! Maya grins when her feet touch the floor again, buzzing with the praise. It feels good to be fawned over, supported, treated like she’s the next best thing.

It feels good to be heard.

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

[amayamiyaki]

Artwork by @emilyisnursebaymax​

Characters/Pairing: Shisui x Sakura; eventual Uchiha x Sakura; Sasuke

Title: Bewitched [Part One]

Rating: General

Bewitched

The woods surrounding Konoha are beautiful in every sense of the word.

They lie friendly in the day, with their evergreen needles and their redwood trunks. But at night, they’re darkly ominous. The endearing chirrups of gold-winged sparrows are nonexistent, instead replaced with the trills of crickets and the rattle of cicadas. A low hanging fog settles in, swirling mischievously at Sakura’s feet, while pathetic streams of moonlight dapple through the thick canopy. It's so dark now that the pitiful flames of her lantern are nearly swallowed whole and the only thing keeping her from stumbling are the outstretched hands of the surrounding trees and the unsettling churning in her gut.

To step into the embrace of the woods so close to the witching hour, is to welcome darkness, because these woods are thieves. They rob visitors of their senses—blinds them in exchange for the ears of a wolf and the nose of a rat. Envelops them in a claustrophobic entanglement of shadows and susurring branches. And sometimes, if the woods feel impish enough, the woods take more than that.

Ignoring the anxiety constricting her chest, Sakura carefully reaches for the holster draped at her waist and pulls out her panflute. The woods grow hushed as the first notes of her song carries through the void. There are no more crickets, no more birds. Not even a whistle of wind. Only her footsteps and her melody. Her song is low, ominous like the entirety of the woods, with quivering down notes and eerie high ones, and to the untrained ear, it nearly sounds like true fairy music.

Sakura diverges from the rutted path, turning right then left; her cloak sways with her movements, its frayed ends dancing around her protectively. She can feel the dirt packing between her toes as each step sinks the soles of her feet into the earth, and while jagged roots bite into her skin, it's nothing she isn’t used to. And the deeper into the woods she goes, the more she feels like she’s being watched. Her cloak brushes against bodies that may or may not be there, shadows morph and wings flutter.

She can taste the mischief in the air.

Carefully adjusting her basket and lantern so they dangle from the crooks of her elbows, and with her grip on the flute tight, Sakura allows her free hand to float at her side as she walks. She caresses the outreaching brambles and low-hanging leaves in hopes that her touch will appease the woods’ growing apprehension of her, stopping only when the rocks and dirt make way for fairy rings.

Her melody soon lifts into a more tranquil tune as the woodland fae giggle and sing in approval. Their fairy music joins her own, accompanied by the fluttering of wings and the appearance of squirrels; she doesn’t look down as the fairies breach from the chests of their hosts, fully aware of the danger she’s now in.

Because as beautiful as fae folk are, they’re ten times as dangerous.

Carefully, as not to break her song, Sakura sets her basket and lantern down, exposing the blueberries and quartz she brought as offerings, while scanning the void for any signs of life. A crow watches her, its head jerking curiously as it observes her. Decayed leaves crumble beneath heavy paws. A thousand eyes weigh her down while a million whispers ghost her skin.

She plays on, ignoring the playful tugs to her rose tresses and to the scarlet threads of her cloak, and she doesn’t stop even as magic scents the air. It compresses, fluttering around her with moonlit glitter, kissing her knuckles as she plays. Splashes of watercolor and silk constellate her vision, making her nose twitch and her belly drop, but she refuses to fall to the fairies’ mischief.

It’s only when the flame from her lantern abruptly dies away that she ends her song. Her breath shakes but she doesn’t show her nerves; Sakura stands tall with her chin tilted high and her shoulders straight.

Because the woods has accepted her offering.

“I call upon the gift of air,” She begins, bringing her hands to float at her sides again. A trickle of air intertwines with her fingers. “Gusty winds and breezes fair.”

Sakura smiles to herself a little more confidently as the tails of her hair tickles at her nose, kicked up with the breath of wind that drew by. The leaves shudder overhead, scattering decayed slivers of orange and red amongst the void. She closes her eyes, and says loudly, “Carry this witch’s greeting across distant lands—take flight! A hearty welcome for a familiar, I invite.”

A crow squawks and a wolf howls; the wind picks up, making her cloak lash out with a ferality that comes with an angry fae but Sakura is not deterred.

She furrows her brows and huffs defiantly, brushing aside the amused songs of the surrounding fairies as she continues, “Fae of the forest, hear my plea. Come forth and seek me, and equals we will be. Not master to servant, but familiar to familiar. To protect and honor, always and forever.”

The woods are alive with the presence of fae folk. Gold eyes appear from across the void while fairies creep from the bodies of their birds and the bark of trees. But no one approaches. And in the blink of an eye, the woods becomes just that—woods. Just knobbed trunks and crickets.

The fae are gone. The wolves disappear. The crows are silent.

But Sakura waits. She waits and waits and waits until she can’t anymore and it infuriates her because she knows the spell was correct. The fae acknowledged it. They heard it, responded to it. So then why—

“To protect and honor, always and forever, huh?”

Sakura stiffens, startled at the sudden voice around her and tries to whirl around only to find herself frozen. Hands settle on her shoulders for a moment before one slowly drifts down her arms with a feathery lightness that evokes chills in their wake. It travels to her wrist, encircling it, keeping her just out of reach of the dagger at her hip while the other hand ghosts along the curve of her neck.

She tries to ignore the breath on the back of her neck and the overwhelming scent of caramel and Hellfire that envelops her. “To protect and honor,” She reiterates, calm despite the fear winding down her spine. “Always and forever.”

Whoever—or rather, whatever—is behind her hums. “Forever is a long time, Witch.”

Sakura swallows the lump building in her throat. "I'll have you for however long you'll have me."

His responding laugh and the way he drags his fingertips down to her wrists raises a garden of goosebumps along her arms, and it's not completely pleasant. He opens a hand, palm up just below her own while the other lifts a strand of hair. "Your name?"

Sakura smiles to herself, shoving aside the uneasy shiver that threatens to crawl down her spine. She knows their tricks. She can hear the mishief in his voice. To give her name is to welcome trouble, because who knows what the Fae will do with it?

And the way his hand hovers, waiting like the hand of an expectant child, he's not asking out of formality.

"You can't have my name," Sakura says. "But you may call me Sakura.

The Fae's chuckle is a warm one full of summer evenings and pine trees, thunderstorms and something dangerous. "Oh I like you," He laughs, brushing the pads of his fingers against her knuckles. "Then you may call me—"

He's interrupted by a loud snarl and the beating of approaching footsteps, but neither are human. Quickly, Sakura frees the dagger against her hip just as a large wolf jumps out at her, jaw unhinged and crimson eyes wild; but as quickly as she sees it, its gone, replaced by the heat of a body against her chest.

The snarl of the Fae enveloping her is otherworldly, feral—demonic—alighting Helfire all throughout her body, but it evokes a sort of comfort that Sakura can't say she's ever felt before.  She blinks, cautiously moving in the grasp of the Fae to chance a glance at him, only to find her view obscured by a wall of feathers.

Wings.

Entranced by the glossy feathers, Sakura tentatively reaches for them, carefully skirting her fingertips along the jade sheen.  The feathers sway, ruffling slightly at her touch, and piercing, scarlet eyes peek through so she pulls back as if burnt.

The wings lower slightly and the arm around her waist loosens, allowing Sakura a glimpse of fangs embedded into black cloth and blood on dark fur. The wolf's eyes meet hers, narrowing, and then there's a pained grunt as the beast's jaws tighten around the arm in its mouth.

"Sasuke," She hears. "Stop."

The wolf is reluctant, its hackles high and body vibrating with its rage, and it gives one last huff before releasing the Fae. Sakura feels him relax, and the softness of his touch compels her to mimic him.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

Gone is the wolf, replaced by a man—a man with skin like snow and hair like a raven's wings. His eyes are sharp, dark like a reflection of the deepest reaches of an underground cavern and sprinkled with red.  But what makes her breath still in her chest, are the horns that stand out atop his head. They're tall, curving down once before shooting straight up and spiked on the bend, with scales colored an iridescent shade of indigo that makes her think of a slick of oil. And they're adorned with silver bands.

A demon.

Sakura feels her blood turn to ice, not just at the way the demon spat her title, but at the weight of the older one’s stare landing upon her. Fae are dangerous on their own, but Demons are something in a league all their own.

And she had spoken her name to one.

"Are you stupid?” The Demon-Fae called Sasuke hisses. “Entertaining the call of a Witch?”

She can feel the bloodlust radiating from the enraged Demon-Fae and considers running.  She mulls over the incantations in her head—banishing spells, protection spells, binding spells—but ultimately, she finds herself rooted in place, pinned to her Fae’s chest by an arm and feathers.

“Is my baby cousin concerned about me?” He has the gall to tease. “How cute!”

Sakura pushes the feathers aside to look up at her Fae.  His expression is calm, with only the faintest down-turning of his brows hinting towards his irritation.  But his eyes, dark and murky, glow with mirth. He’s handsome, even more so than the Demon-Fae behind her, with strong features and moonlit skin; his hair falls in devious curls that part around his horns.

He has two sets of them—a testament to his age.  One set curves out, then in and up, nowhere near as high as the former’s; while the other set curls down and straight back, their points just barely peeking out from the angle he stands.  The shadows dull their color, unfortunately, but she can glimpse where the moonlight catches on the jewels draped along them.

And when he peers down at her, from beneath enviously long lashes, Sakura has to force herself to breathe.

Sasuke’s growl is predatory, so powerful that Sakura can feel it palpate in her chest. “Quit playing around!  You know that fraternizing with a,” He pauses, glancing in her direction with his nose scrunched in distaste. “Witch is asking for trouble.”

The Demon-Fae straightens, his shoulders stiffening and chin raising, and then wings that gleam with a hint of jade outstretch.  They spread so wide, they eclipse the moon and morph into the darkness between the trees.

“This Witch, Sasuke,” The Demon-Fae begins, and his hands come to rest at the base of Sakura’s neck and around her wrist. “Is under my protection.  For always and forever.”

[mamichigo]

Fic: tell me (of the color of your soul) (4.3k)

Pairing: Tanjirou/Inosuke

Tags: Alternative Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Demon Hashibira Inosuke, Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence

Summary: Tanjirou, the boy with the scar on his shoulder; Inosuke, the boy with the twin peaks on his cheek

And how their fates intertwine in clumsy knots.

Notes: This is a combination of two prompts:

anon: “inotan, but one of them gets infected by muzan blood and the other is freaking out about it” 

@sus-bih: “inotan soulmates!”

*Tanjirou had been only nine years old when, curled up in his mother's lap, he reached a hand out to touch the mark on her cheek. There were no bumps or raised skin that made the mark feel different, it was as part of her skin as the mole on her chin. But this was nothing like a simple birthmark: it started on her jaw and grew upwards in the form of undulating flames, engraved in dark red—just like the color of his own eyes and that of his father.

With the innocent curiosity common to children, he patted the mark again and asked how his mother got it in the first place.

In that sweet and patient voice that his mother always had in his memories, she told him about soulmates for the first time.

"They're your special someone, Tanjirou," she said, tucking his hair behind his ear. "Be it a best friend or a lover, they'll stand by you until the very end."

"Oh," Tanjirou breathed, part wonder and part confusion. He blinked up at her. "Does the one on my shoulder mean the same thing? That someone will be precious to me like that?"

His mother's face then twisted into a sad smile, her brows furrowed. As soon as her expression changed, however, it was swiftly hidden from him once she leaned in to kiss Tanjirou's forehead.

"Yes, of course," she replied. "You're a wonderful child, I'm sure you'll find an equally wonderful soulmate."

His father, watching them silently from the other side of the room, had the same sad smile as his mother, and their scent was tinged with sorrow.

Tanjirou wouldn't understand why until years later, when he was old enough to reach his own conclusions on the possible implications of his soulmark.

Because Tanjirou was a child who, from the very moment he was born, had a mark that looked more like a vicious scar on his left shoulder, the exact same way one would have following the cruel bite of an animal.

***

It was supposed to be his own secret—or at least a family secret, unknown to their acquaintances and other friends. And yet the nature of his mark was a known fact to the entirety of the village at the base of the mountain.

He could hear them whisper sometimes when he came down to sell coal and chat with the locals; they were never cruel about it, quite the contrary, as Tanjirou was on good terms with all the villagers.

Maybe that was why they'd talk about it in such a sad, pitying tone, not all that different from how his own parents reacted whenever the topic of his soulmark was brought up.

"I just don't understand," the owner of the only restaurant in the village once said to one of the regulars. "Why would a bright child like that get such a scary soulmark? What kind of person will his soulmate be?"

"Who knows," the man she was talking to grumbled. "Fate is a mysterious thing."

"So I'm supposed to believe that something like this is fate?" The owner questioned hotly. "That someone like him is destined be with a b—"

"Enough," the man spoke over her. Then, quietly: "Don't speak of that anymore." Silence fell upon the group, and Tanjirou could no longer hear their voices.

The owner didn't need to finish for him to predict what she would say next. Tanjirou knew what they called him in hushed, horrified voices.

"The beast's soulmate".

***

It was on a cold winter day when he and Nezuko huddled close together, wide awake while all their siblings peacefully slept. There was a sense of foreboding that blanketed them both: Nezuko had woken up from a dream that she could not remember with a heavy heart, while Tanjirou had not slept at all, watching the darkness for hours on end as if waiting for something to come out of it.

Unsettled, they leaned on each other for support, hands clasped tightly together. For the first twenty minutes, their tongues were still, not daring to perturb the unnerving lull of the night. But soon they realized that the sun was in no hurry to come, and the clock handles dragged themselves to each new passing second.

They talked in whispers that only the two of them could hear, voices muffled under the blanket, words lost to the wind that roared outside and occasionally shook the wooden frame of the walls. 

Conversation was easy, and the topics changed quickly as they went through whatever first came to mind, to keep themselves from thinking too much or too hard on what kept them up in the first place. They talked of breakfast, of chopping wood, of a bird feather found on the mountain path, of the sound of cracking of ice on a water surface they could hear when they came down the mountain to visit the village.

And when they both had gone quiet, at a loss for words, it was Nezuko who looked into his eyes as her smile fell from her face, a frown taking its place. She didn't look upset or angry, but serious and determined.

"When you meet your soulmate, they'll be wonderful. I know they will," she told him. "No matter what others say about it, you'll find someone wonderful."

Tanjirou had blinked at her, surprised at the sudden fire in her voice. "You don't need to comfort me, I'm not afraid."

"Yes, you are," Nezuko insisted. "Even dad made that sad face when any of us talked about soulmates in the room, everyone has always acted like that. But I know it'll be alright. Because I'll make sure they're good."

Tanjirou laughed and gently flicked her forehead. "If you say that, then I know it'll be okay." Pressing his forehead to hers, Tanjirou closed his eyes and sighed. "It's a promise, then."

"It's a promise," Nezuko confirmed.

They giggled between themselves, and hugged to seal the deal.

Tanjirou wasn't aware at the time, but that would be the last long conversation he would have with Nezuko before she was turned into a demon.

***

His throat burned, snow had melted and then frozen again on his clothes, it was hard to move or breathe or even think. The place where he was hit by the mysterious swordsman ached, he was sure there was a bruise forming there.

Tanjirou cried while he still could, hugging Nezuko's unconscious body as tight as his aching and trembling arms allowed him.

You promised me , he repeated in his head like a mantra as he struggled to get to his feet. You promised me, so don't give up yet.

***

He would've never imagined they would meet like this, both of them filled with adrenaline as they fought each other, though Tanjirou was more trying to appease the other than truly fight against him.

But when the mask falls, it is not the dissonance between body and face that Tanjirou notices, but the mark engraved on the boy's otherwise immaculate skin: two peaks growing on his jaw up to his cheek in jet black, with the circumference of the sun rising between them.

Tanjirou remembers looking at the same image, swaying gently where it hung from his father's earlobes; the exact one on the earrings that he now wore, clinging in his ears when he took a step back in shock.

For a moment, Tanjirou thought he might have been punched in the stomach, as it's suddenly hard to breathe. Though it takes only a second to realizes he's fine, that does nothing to alleviate the buzzing in his skin, a sort of overwhelming giddiness so overpowering it hurts, like he'll get split in two from the emotion alone.

He couldn't think, couldn't see anything else but him, even somehow saying something about how attractive the boy's face was. Then, worry substituted wonder.

"Sit down, are you okay?" He says, stopping himself from checking, from touching his soulmate's face to evaluate his injuries.

And when the boy fell, Tanjirou hurried to pillow his head—even if it didn't help much in regards to undoing the damage, at least it would make the position less uncomfortable.

As Tanjirou pulled back, his hand lingered on the pale cheek, brushing tip of the mountain there.

Hashibira Inosuke. 

I found you.

***

The ambiguous time of the night when it was not yet late, but simultaneously no longer early had Tanjirou sitting alone outside their shared room in the House of Wisteria. The moon was shining in full, but Tanjirou looked at it without really seeing it. 

The warm breeze ruffled his hair, and Tanjirou closed his eyes to appreciate it, just as soft footsteps sounded somewhere behind him.

Tanjirou didn't have to look to know that it was Zenitsu who watched him, emanating worry and uncertainty.

He thought he might not speak at all, but soon his voice joined in with the cries of the cicada.

"It's him, isn't it?" Zenitsu asked. "Your soulmate."

Tanjirou thought of green eyes and rosy cheeks, of a boy who was sometimes more beast than human. "Probably."

"What are you gonna do about it, then?"

Tanjirou smiled and tilted his head to the side, seeing the leaves on top of the trees shuffle about at the corner of his eyes. "Nothing." He clenched his empty fists. "I'm not doing anything."

***

"Tch, that's one inconvenient soulmark you've got there," Uzui complained as he continued to pat more and more makeup on to Inosuke's face.

Inosuke, already angry from being manhandled like a doll, growled deep in his throat. "What the hell is a soulmark?"

Uzui paused, staring at Inosuke in disbelief. "Are you shitting me? You've got it right there on your face, you do know that, right?"

Inosuke raised a hand to his own face, though his expression had question marks written all over it.

"Huh?"

Uzui sighed to himself and grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "these goddamn stupid brats", but who knows, Tanjirou wasn't the one with sharp hearing.

And even if he was, Tanjirou was too busy trying to sink into the floor to pay attention to what Uzui was saying. Sat in perfect seiza , he stared at his own knees as the conversation washed over him. Zenitsu was growing increasingly frantic as he glanced between Tanjirou and Inosuke.

In his current state, most of Uzui's explanation of what a soulmark is didn't really make it into Tanjirou's ear. The situation made him feel suddenly wrong-footed, like the floor had disappeared under him. Tanjirou only looked up when a concerned Nezuko placed her hand on his shoulder, and he hurried to let her know he was fine by smiling at her.

"...they're supposed to be your other half, stuff like that. Someone who supports you and makes you stronger that way," Uzui was just finishing saying to a scowling Inosuke.

"I don't have something like that!" Inosuke protested angrily. "I don't need it, I'm already strong on my own!"

Tanjirou froze, and Nezuko tugged more insistently on his sleeve. Even Uzui (more perceptive than they gave him credit for) had paused to look back at him, and even if they were just trying to help, but Tanjirou just couldn't take their sorrowful gaze.

"I'm fine," he told Nezuko, not making eye contact with anyone else. "Don't worry about it."

There was a second of awkward silence, but soon enough Uzui started going on about the details of their upcoming mission, and the subject was dropped.

***

Some days were bad, but others were worse.

Too often, Tanjirou would turn as he thought he heard the crunch of leaves, or smelled the scent of pine trees and wet soil. More rarely, he would start walking without thinking much of it, only for a put off Zenitsu to remind him they were supposed to go the opposite direction.

On top of it all, it felt like Tanjirou rarely slept lately, as even when he did, it was restless, with dreams waking him up in the middle of the night. The dreams were too jumbled up to make sense of, and always faded away the moment Tanjirou grew more alert. The only thing left would be the tug at the base of his stomach, and a bout of paralyzing dread.

But once that faded as well, with the silence as Tanjirou's only company, his hands felt all too empty, heart far away however many miles down the road where Inosuke was.

Tanjirou couldn't do much more than cover his eyes and breathe in slowly, wondering when he had started falling this hard.

***

Seeing Inosuke again felt the exact same as coming home after a long trip: it relaxed his body, brought a sense of relief, and happiness that the waiting was over and now just fuzzy contentment was present. Just like one would collapse on their bed after an exhausting day, Tanjirou fell into Inosuke's arm with great desperation and no finesse. They collide and tumble in a heap of muscles, and only Inosuke's strength keeps them from an ugly encounter with the ground.

Inosuke tugs at his hair, but never really pulls away, settling for making disgruntled questions in that growling voice of his. Tanjirou almost laughs at himself when he thinks of it as endearing, but something inside himself is starting to crumble at the edges, the points where Inosuke touches him, just like an old painted wall being picked at to reveal the layers underneath—which were never meant to be seen in the first.

It's the fear and insecurity stills his tongue, but not his body: Tanjirou hugs him to his chest like they haven't seen each other in years, with all of the longing of various sleepless night behind it. He might shake a bit when he works his fingers under Inosuke's mask to grasp at his hair, but Tanjirou can't quite tell anymore, too out of himself with emotions that he's growing tired of carrying.

"You're acting weird," Inosuke complains loudly, but he has his hand on Tanjirou's back in a loose embrace. "Did you hit your head or something?"

"No, I'm all good, really," Tanjirou reassured. To prove it, he pressed his forehead to Inosuke's gently. "See? As firm as always."

Inosuke, a bit miffed, scowled. "Then what's wrong with you?"

Tanjirou pulled away—not far, only enough to get a look at Inosuke, though the sight didn't reveal him anything, with Inosuke's mask hiding his expression. But Tanjirou himself had no such protection, face bare for all to see, and he wondered if Inosuke could see the fractures underneath.

"I'm just happy to see you're safe," Tanjirou told him, so terribly tender and affectionate as his heart bled into his words.

The sweet scent of Inosuke's happiness was enough to calm the bright red burn in his veins, to calm the roar into a hum, and he no longer felt the thread that pierced his skin and pulled him too far until his skin hurt.

It didn't go away completely, of course, but that night, sleeping next to each other with Tanjirou's hand outstretched between their beds (reaching but never touching), Tanjirou smiled and fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

It was only four days later when they were ambushed.

***

Tanjirou wanted to swing his sword violently, to put all of his rage behind each move, but that would only make him sloppy, so Tanjirou settled on biting the inside of his mouth until he tasted copper coating his tongue.

There was no time for reckless sentimentality: if he fell into despair, he would be of no use to anyone, and they couldn't afford that at the moment. Not when he needed to make sure everyone would make it out alive.

Not when he had to end the fight before Inosuke bled to death.

Blood that was not his own was still drying on both his hands, the smell a constant reminder of the minutes he spent holding a wound shut, hoping that would be enough to prevent the worst. He hadn't wanted to leave Inosuke's side, but with battles still going all around them, he only put them in more danger by staying idle.

Tanjirou could only hope that hiding Inosuke where the bushes grew the tallest, and wrapping his wound with Tanjirou's own haori would grant him safety until Tanjirou could make his way back to Inosuke.

That was all he thought of, even when he could barely see from one eye due to the blood dripping into it from his forehead, even with what was possibly a broken arm.

Even when the demon in front of him disappears with a final whisper: "He'll take everything from you…"

His heart feels frozen, but too fast at the same time. Tanjirou stumbles forward, walking straight into someone, and he looks at Giyuu's frowning face. There's a grimness to him that Tanjirou can't quite understand.

"I need to find him," Tanjirou tells him, trying to step around Giyuu. "Inosuke… I have to make sure he's safe."

"Tanjirou."

"I can't smell him, there are too many smells, I can't tell if he's okay," Tanjirou rambled, aware that he was slipping into delirium. "Giyuu-san, I have to find him…"

Giyuu held him back with a hand, and Tanjirou tried to struggle out of the grip, but that only made Giyuu tighten his hold on him.

"Tanjirou, listen to me," Giyuu urged, shaking him by the shoulders. "He's gone."

Tanjirou blinked up at him. "...What?"

"I went after him, he isn't there."

"The bushes—"

"I checked them," Giyuu said in a hard voice. His jaw clenched, he looked to the side, his grip so stiff Tanjirou feared he might break under it. "I checked everywhere, he's not there. Inosuke's body is gone."

***

He would've expected to feel something more… earth shattering. In fact, he's sure he should be feeling something. Instead, Tanjirou finds himself smiling when someone asks him a question, the motion automatic but not forced.

He developed a tendency to zone out, unaware of his surroundings until someone would wave a hand in front of his face, and at that point Tanjirou would have to ask if they had said something. It never failed to get him concerned looks, but Tanjirou couldn't feel the weight of that, either.

Cooped up in the Butterfly Estate, Tanjirou had a routine, which he went through like clockwork. However, the only parts that stuck out in his mind where the moment when he would join others to eat, the voices breaking him out of the stupor he spent the rest of the day in, wandering around the house and sometimes even outside. And if someone asked him where he was going, Tanjirou never had an answer.

It was in one of those moments that Zenitsu had found him back in the patients' room, sitting on one of the beds. When he came in, Tanjirou looked up with a serene smile.

Zenitsu shuffled about, hesitant to even take a step forward—Tanjirou thought he ought to ask for his friend's wellbeing, but his tongue never moved, his mouth never opened.

Absentmindedly, Tanjirou rubbed his left shoulder: the one that had his soulmark, the one that had gone numb the night of Inosuke's disappearance. If he tried to move it, Tanjirou felt needles working themselves deeper into his skin.

"I wonder if this is what it feels like," Tanjirou mused out loud. "To lose a soulmate, that is."

There was a sharp intake of breath, a pause, then quickly approaching footsteps. Tanjirou looked up, but as he did so, a hand connected with his cheek, turning his head to the side.

With wide eyes, Tanjirou raised a hand to touch the side of his face, where the skin was hot. He looked at Zenitsu from the corner of his eyes, finding him fuming with his fist closed tightly by his side, like he was refraining from slapping Tanjirou again.

"Get ahold of yourself!" Zenitsu shouted. "What are you doing, walking around like you're a ghost or something?! You won't even look at Nezuko-chan anymore! Do you have any idea how worried she is?"

Tanjirou choked on his next breath, but held in the cough that rose in his throat.

"You've just been standing there, not doing anything. What about curing Nezuko-chan? And finding Inosuke? This isn't like you at all!" Even if Zenitsu's voice was harsh, there was an underlying desperation to his tone that Tanjirou picked up on. "If you don't snap out of it, I'll—"

Zenitsu broke himself off, breathing harshly and shaking where he stood. Tanjirou tried to reach for him, but stopped midway.

"I'll hit you again, you know!" Zenitsu cried, and there were tears streaming down his face. Tanjirou felt his own heart pound heavily and his eyes sting.

"...I'm sorry," Tanjirou whispered, because the lump in his throat wouldn't let him speak any louder than that. "I'm sorry."

Zenitsu threw himself at him, and Tanjirou clutched at him, holding on as he drowned in a wave of his own grief, sobs ripped out of his him. 

Tanjirou cried as all he smelled was the sickening scent of blood.

***

"You know he won't be the same when you find him," Shinobu said carefully, while Tanjirou made preparations to leave.

"Neither was Nezuko," Tanjirou countered. 

"But not all demons are like your sister," Shinobu reminded him.

"There were many humans in the woods that night, if Inosuke really turned into a demon, he left without attacking anyone." Tanjirou had reflected on the subject many times before reaching this conclusion, and by now he could say it with confidence, set on the fact that Inosuke wouldn't have eaten any humans. "Besides, Inosuke is stronger than anyone I've met. I trust him."

Shinobu tilted her head. "Even now?"

"Even now."

Shinobu smiled and nodded approvingly. "Good. Then, do your best."

"I will, thank you," Tanjirou said, but got distracted by a tug on his sleeve. He looked down at Nezuko, and he felt guilty at seeing the concern in her frowning face. He would have to remember to do something nice for her later, to compensate for worrying her so much. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

He gave her one last hug before breathing in and turning on his heel.

"Tanjirou," Zenitsu called. Tanjirou paused, looking back at Zenitsu. "Bring him back," he said seriously.

"Of course," Tanjirou nodded. "You don't even need to ask.

***

Seeing Inosuke after days on end of traveling on foot guided only by instinct had been such a shock that Tanjirou thought he might be hallucinating, or dreaming.

As expected, there were changes to his appearances: his sclera was tinged deep black, with the irises changed from moss green to a lighter, more neon green that glowed under the moonlight. There were horns on his forehead, and sharp fangs so long they could be seen even when he had his mouth closed. His scent was different too, something more burning wood instead of falling leaves.

But there were things there remained the same, too, like the midnight blue of his billowing hair, or the pale complexion of his skin. And, more importantly, the mountains on his jaw.

Funnily enough, it wasn't the soulmark that made Tanjirou drop his sword. No, it was a simple strip of fabric tied around Inosuke's bicep, the familiar green and black checkered pattern easy to recognize. The one he had lost after tying it around Inosuke's injuries.

Before leaving, Tanjirou had asked Shinobu what happened to a demon when they saw their soulmate, to which Shinobu had given a morbid explanation of how the desire to be with their soulmate and the desire to eat humans overlapped and merged into the urge to consume the person in question. Tanjirou shivered just recalling it, and yet, he stood unarmed and spread his arms open in invitation.

When Inosuke charged at him, he didn't flinch, and when there were teeth sinking into his flesh, Tanjirou didn't fight to get away, though he cried out in pain.

"I'm here, Inosuke," Tanjirou said through gritted teeth. "I'm here. I'm with you. You're not alone."

He staggered back, legs losing strength, but Inosuke's hands on him kept Tanjirou from falling altogether. The pain spread from his neck down to his wrist, and his fingers twitched involuntarily.

"I'm here," he repeated. When Tanjirou pried one eye open, his vision swam. "I won't leave you, no matter what."

Inosuke growled, and his teeth dug deeper. Tanjirou felt his own blood drip down his shoulder and soak his clothes.

Tanjirou pressed his cheek to Inosuke's and panted, babbling incoherently as his consciousness faded.

 ***

He wakes to the sound of running water, and the sight of stars shining above him. His head feels fuzzy, and when he attempts to sit up, the sudden nausea brings him right back down.

No matter how much he breathes, his lungs still beg for air, so Tanjirou keeps inhaling deep, quick gulps of air.

"Inosuke…" Tanjirou croaks out, eyes roaming from side to side, searching for the familiar face. He keeps calling for him, stretching a hand out to pat the space beside himself.

Then, there's someone peering down at him and a hand clasping his own. Tanjirou looks up at Inosuke, who watches silently. When Tanjirou smiles fondly, he huffs irritatedly.

Directing his gaze to their joined hands, Tanjirou attempts to hold Inosuke's tighter, but he fails when he finds he has no strength in his limbs. Seeing his effort, Inosuke makes it so their fingers intertwine, his firm grip compensating for Tanjirou's slack one.

Tanjirou smiles again, and falls back asleep.

[aion-rsa]

Psych: The Essential Episode Guide

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As a TV series, Psych is like one of those frozen yogurt chains where the wall is ringed with different flavors and you can keep pulling levers for whatever combination you want. There are the Shawn/Gus episodes, the “Shawn’s psychic lie is threatened” episodes, the increasingly genius and lovingly rendered (often ‘80s-tastic) tributes, and the ensemble classics where the whole cast is just a well-oiled machine after years of riffing off one another. You can have whatever flavor you want. And don’t even get me started on toppings (there’s gotta be pineapple, at the very least).

Over its eight-year run, Psych interrogated its own premise, built out its supporting cast, let its characters play their favorite movie characters, and adapted its own internal mythology into trilogies that would make any movie-buff weep with appreciation. Here is a baker’s dozen of the most giggle-worthy, self-referential, surprisingly dramatic episodes of Psych. (And with so many to choose from, your favorite flavor combinations might be different from mine—share your own best episodes in the comments!)

Season 2 Episode 1: “American Duos”

Once the show had had a season under its belt of the fake-psychic shtick, the writers and actors got to really start playing in the sandbox they’d created. The second-season premiere has it all: a pop culture riff on a certain popular reality show competition; Tim Curry and Gina Gershon going above and beyond in their parodies of Simon Cowell and Paula Abdul; and Shawn and Gus giving a truly spectacular mashup performance as Curt Smith and Michael Jackson.

Season 2 Episode 3: “Psy vs. Psy”

I’m a sucker for the episodes where Shawn might have to come clean about his big fat lie. Season 2 poked at that possibility early on, with a counterfeit case that brings in government agent Lars Ewing (Lou Diamond Phillips) and female psychic Lindsay Leiken (Bianca Kajlich). Not only does Lars ruffle Lassiter’s feathers and get Jules hot and bothered, but Lindsay seems to be a lot more intuitive than Shawn—to the point where the SBPD may be looking to replace their consultant. Shawn has a knack for making things harder for himself, but the situations in which he has to actually fight his way out are always rewarding.

Season 2 Episode 13: “Lights, Camera… Homicidio”

The second season really cemented the series’ delight in its own ridiculousness—not just in the bizarre cases, but in how Shawn and Gus (and the rest of the SBPD) react to them. This week, it was an accidental murder via botched prop knife on the set of Explosión Gigantesca de Romance, Gus’ (and Henry’s) favorite telenovela, that really highlighted Psych’s embrace of the absurd. While doing his psychic thing, Shawn gets “discovered” enough to play the sexy delivery guy, who becomes a beloved character in his own right… only to learn for himself how badly the show’s fans blur the lines between characters and actors. Though not as outright meta as the tribute episodes, it still was wonderfully self-aware about the pitfalls of emotionally investing in fictional characters.

Season 4 Episode 5: “Shawn Gets the Yips”

This episode is a bit of a bait-and-switch in that Shawn having the yips (about baseball, not being a psychic) doesn’t really impact the plot, which starts with a shooting at a known cop bar and culminates in a commentary on the police force not properly punishing drug lords who sell opioids. The subplot about the drug lord supposedly targeting SBPD members is a bit of a red herring for the more nuanced twist about the cost of the opioid epidemic, but it contains one of my favorite moments, in which Shawn unintentionally gets a great workout because he believes that the message on his water bottle (your heart rate drops below 150, you die) is a threat. Just a solid mid-series episode.

Season 4 Episode 16: “Mr. Yin Presents…”

Just like with Bones, Psych really came into its own when it mixed the laughs with actual life-or-death stakes—and in both cases, that was thanks to a serial killer obsessed with our protagonist. Season 3 ended on “An Evening with Mr. Yang,” which introduced Ally Sheedy (one of many, many famous cameos) as the eponymous serial killer who kidnapped Shawn’s mother to get closer to him. But with her locked away and more artfully arranged kills discovered, the SBPD have to confront that Yang might have a Yin—which of course spawns a trilogy. 

Read more

Movies

Psych 2: Lassie Come Home Review

By Natalie Zutter

TV

Psych 2: Lassie Come Home Stars on Hitchcock Homages and Special Reunions

By Natalie Zutter

The Empire Strikes Back of the Yin/Yang saga is my personal favorite, though I highly recommend watching all three. The team’s introduction to Yang’s twisted mentor is through his love of Alfred Hitchcock movies: He casts each of them in an iconic role while leading them on a wild goose chase through Santa Barbara, ending at a movie set mashup and presenting Shawn with an impossible choice between saving girlfriend Abigail or Juliet. The latter has one of her most powerful moments, stoically accepting her death while suspended from a clock and later breaking down in Lassiter’s arms. Her PTSD remains through the Yin/Yang saga, another sign of the series’ maturity as it explores the ripple effect of its more dramatic plots.

Season 6 Episode 2: “Last Night Gus”

While Shawn and Gus are the series OTP, part of the show’s beauty has been in building up its other bromances. This spoof of The Hangover has Shawn, Gus, Lassiter, and Woody waking up in the Psych offices with no memory of their antics the night before, but plenty of incriminating clues tying them to a dead body. Their attempt to solve the mystery of how they got so memory-obliteratingly drunk has them encountering a sweet gay bartender couple, a murdered donut mascot, and a hot girl who’s very into Last Night Gus… if only he knew what he did. In addition to riffing superbly on the movie, the episode is a fun commentary on our present selves solving the mysteries of our past personas.

Season 7 Episode 5: “100 Clues”

I managed to watch this without realizing what the Psych crew was going for, so the moment that Shawn and Gus pulled up in the Blueberry to a mansion in a rainy homage to Clue, I was squealing harder than Gus at the notion of a secret chocolate room. For the series’ 100th episode, they lovingly parodied the perfect locked-mansion murder mystery, with killer cameos from Lesley Warren, Christopher Lloyd, and Martin Mull (plus little nods to the Clue alums who couldn’t be there, like Eileen Brennan). From the Singing Telegram Girl to the secret passageways, only true fans could achieve this level of detail—a perfect landmark celebration.

Season 7 Episode 7: “Deez Nups”

The sign of a great ensemble series is that they can make the standard, super-tropey wedding episode feel fresh again. It helps that it’s Lassiter’s nuptials, and everyone wants to see the guy happy, which is what leads to Shawn, Gus, and Woody kidnapping the detective for a bachelor party, while Juliet and the Chief get roped into being Marlowe’s bachelorette buddies. The threat of a mob boss taking revenge on Lassie takes a backseat to such wedding fare as Vick getting weepy-drunk on shots and McNab popping up as a police stripper (I cackled at the payoff of his Chekhov’s tearaway pants). Just like with a real-life wedding, when you know the people involved, it feels special and unique. (There is also a gross, transphobic joke about a stripper, one of the aspects of Psych that did not age well.)

Season 7 Episode 8: “Right Turn or Left for Dead”

Tribute episodes are Psych’s bread and butter, but rarely do they advance the plot as effectively and emotionally as this riff on Sliding Doors. After Juliet finds out that Shawn has been lying about being a psychic, which makes her believe that everything about their relationship has been a lie, Shawn indulges in a fantasy in which he’s 1990s Gwyneth Paltrow (naturally) pondering the diverging paths of whether Jules does or doesn’t discover the truth. 

The story immediately splits into two takes on the same case, but in one she’s a Jane Doe and in the other Shawn actually has a chance to save her… only to discover that her life path was already set in stone after an abusive childhood. Even with subtle moments of humor that highlight the parallel universes’ differences in solving cases, overall the episode is a study in how one choice has ramifications far beyond the initial action—a lesson Shawn needed to learn, in the penultimate season.

Season 7 Episode 11: “Office Space”

If the boys trying to cover their tracks in “Last Night Gus” was worth a few giggles, Gus and Shawn tampering with a murder scene and then trying to clean their hands of it in this episode is the kind of laughter that hurts. When Gus publicly confronts his abusive boss, only for the man to wind up offed and poor Guster very incriminated. The sequence in which they hysterically stumble their way through the crime scene is worth watching alone; but as evidence mounts and it looks like they could actually be caught in the crosshairs, the levels of ingenuity to which they’re pushed shows why this is the show’s best partnership.

Season 8 Episode 1: “Lock, Stock, Some Smoking Barrels and Burton Guster’s Goblet of Fire”

This is the episode that got me back into the show after years of casual viewing: a mashup of Guy Ritchie and Harry Potter that manages to add a whole new layer to one of Psych’s best recurring characters, refined art thief Pierre Desperaux (Cary Elwes) while giving him a proper send-off.

Like the Yin/Yang trilogy, the entire Desperaux quartet is worth watching for the heists, the Indiana Jones lampooning, and especially for his continued double-crossing of his greatest fan Shawn. But this one takes the cake because it adds a new layer to the Desperaux mythology: He’s actually Royston Staley, an Interpol agent who went undercover as a gentleman thief. Or is he?? Plus, add in the runner about poor Gus in his Hogwarts robes just trying to make it to PotterCon, and you have a near-perfect episode.

Season 8 Episode 3: “Remake, A.K.A. Cloudy… WIth a Chance of Murder”

What better way to mark your final season than by remaking one of your season 1 episodes? What’s incredible about Psych is how many different ways it goes meta, but there was something especially entertaining about its remake of season 1, episode 12 “Cloudy… With a Chance of Murder.” With periodic reminders that this episode is set in 2006, it recasts almost all of the characters—a teacher accused of killing a local weatherman, the lawyer for the prosecution (Ralph Macchio)—and makes space for new jokes (about remakes and My Cousin Vinny) and new twists. All long-running series should get a chance to try and redo their early episodes after they’ve gelled their characters and dynamics.

Season 8 Episode 10: “The Break-Up”

After trying to make their long-distance relationship work, Shawn decides to move to San Francisco to be with Juliet, a far easier choice than actually breaking the news to Gus. Of course the Psych series finale would be about these two facing the end of their partnership. Specifically, Shawn’s inability to say goodbye, so instead he and Gus wind up investigating a case involving special guest star Billy Zane, careening around in their high-school drivers ed car, and competing with SBPD’s peppy new detective Betsy Brannigan (Mira Sorvino). When none of this helps Shawn come out with the truth, he does so through DVD—a whole batch of DVDs, tailored to each of his colleagues and dear friends. Because Shawn loves telling a story.

There’s no better end for Shawn and Gus than a bromantic one, complete with driving cross-state (albeit turning back 12 times), dramatic declaration of love (at a crime scene), and pledging their lives together before Shawn actually proposes to Juliet (as a formality). And it’s not just about them: The finale has sweet moments of closure for new junior detective McNab (aww) and especially Lassiter, who finally gets Shawn’s confession—then breaks the DVD. If the Psych movies had never happened, it would have been enough; but instead, it’s the sugary-sweet end of one chapter and the opening of another.

The post Psych: The Essential Episode Guide appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[fenweak]

2018 pat/jon fics!

In keeping with tradition, here are some of my favorite fics that came out in 2018. Technically, it’s easier to sort through ao3 now to see all these for yourselves, but anyway! i love lists, and i love listing wonderful things so. :3 Do check the list out if you missed out on any and give these authors some love. Happy New Year, all! :D

Canon Divergent

when the clock strikes twelve by crystaljules - T | 6,508 | friends to lovers in new year's eves

Pop Your Corn Like A Champ by mending_fences - E | 2,065 | rookie year pwp

Big Spoon, Little Spoon by aseaofwords - G | 765 | gasp, there's only one bed!

Patrick and the Lucky Potato by Bittersweet - G | 794 | hockey superstitions

In The A.M. by SecondCitySavage - E | 613 | established relationship pwp

I Thought It Was A Floating Door by Mullsandmutts - 3,211 | rookie initiation of sorts

No, I Never Told Lies To You by fourfreedoms - E | 3,033 | celly realizations

The Future Is Bulletproof (the Aftermath Is Secondary) by CitrusVanille - T | 2,422 | marriage proposal

Five Times Jonny’s There to Back Patrick up (And One Time It’s the Other Way Around) - T | 3,521 | what the tin says

Throwing Rocks at Your Window by Linsky - M | 2,267 | getting together

Into You by hatrickane - E | 4,531 | friends with benefits

Same Old - 1,900 | friends with benefits with angst

This is awkward by writingintothevoid - M | 2,244 | masturbation getting together

Shitshow by AnythingThrice (WIP) - E | 16,297 and counting | relationship negotiations, porn with feelings

Hockey House by aseaofwords - M | 20,476 | pat helps jonny raise a baby

The Scars That Words Have Carved by Linsky - E | 15,964 | soulmates AU

A How-To Guide for Idiots in Love by lucky1  (WIP)- E | 12,462 and counting | Cosmo-based wooing

Transverse Velocity by fourfreedoms - E | 2,236 | Orbital Resonance h/c timestamp

A Certainty I Envy by hatrickane - E | 15,015 | time travel, friends to lovers

Eyes on the Horizon by heartstrings - E | 35,380 | future fic

Baby One More Time by fourfreedoms, sorrylatenew - E | 7,981 | first time, internalized homophobia

a bulletproof bond by thirteentorafters - T | 1,791 | summer fluff

Beg for it by Clever_grrl - E | 1,524 | pwp

running across the meadow by ishybishy - E | 2,219 | fluff and angst and smut

nobody does it like juliette by thirteentorafters - T | 4,323 | established relationship plus dogs!

Bruises on My Knees for You by Linsky - T | 2,529 | getting together

On This Day (February 27, 2018) by AnythingThrice - T | 2,191 | angsty introspection

Fortune Says by artanis_aman - E | 63,360 | BDSM pwp

Light by Bittersweet - G | 283 | short domestic fluff

I'mma need two hands - E | 1,563 | pwp

The One with the Sex Bet by Linsky - E | 11,621 | friends with benefits to lovers

Don't Forget To Breathe by fourfreedoms - E | 13,513 | friends with benefits

For Science by Linsky - M | 2,600 | first time

Light as a Feather by WolvesoftheBlueMist - T | 1,595 | marriage proposal

finished, yet by thirteentorafters - T | 1,426 | grief over death

Project: Thanksgiving by windsthatwhisper - G | 1535 | established relationship fluff

Streets of Chicago by TheNorthRemembers - E | 79,749 | h/c, friends to lovers

Operation: Christmas Gift by windsthatwhisper - G | 1,166 | future fic

There's a Ghost in My Home (And It Just Won't Go) by crankyrage - T | 11,616 | depression

I'll Be Your Detonator by CitrusVanille - M | 17,645 | marriage of convenience

Shawty With You by allthebros  - E | 5,279 | 5 + 1 mistletoe kisses

we live in the memories(of the season of light) - 1,437 | holiday season h/c

On the right side of too much by Sail_On - 4,518 | established relationship pwp

AUs

Fathoms Above by aseaofwords - T | 14,451 | mermaid!jonny

Muscle Stim by sahiya - E | 7,672 | physical therapist!jonny

Make You Crazy Over My Touch by liveinfury - E | 26,757 | porn star!jonny, fluffer!pat

Ignite My Fire, Object Of My Desire by ThalassicThedes - 6,939 | college theater acting au

it's only you and me by crystaljules - T | 2,489 | college au angst

All It Ever Was by hatrickane - E | 8,249 | fraternity AU

Let's Ride The Vibrations by FallingOutOfTouch - T | 10,303 | barista!patrick

a love to burn by peeks - E | 2,916 | college au pwp

Who Knew by themistrollsin - G | 2,434 | college AU

soft hands by Caivallon - E | 10,337 | ballet-dancer-turned student!pat, hotelier!jonny

forever only by gasmsinc - E | 3,621 | 1940s established relationship AU

(Shut Up and) Sing It With Me by CitrusVanille - T | 6,152 | model!jonny, followed by

Let Me See Your Jazz Hands by CitrusVanille - T | 2,669 | established relationship model!jonny

Little Demon Goes To College by fourfreedoms - E | 2,423 | established relationship installment of the Accepted Practice series!

bonnie and clyde by gasmsinc - E | 3,576 | 1920s mob AU

The Future Is Ours To Seize by PensToTheEnd - E | 27,878 | former rentboy pat au, established relationship

the road less traveled by thundersquall - E | 12,374 | farmer!jonny

Between the Pipes by sorrylatenew - E | 4,206 | a/b/o

Eternal Ice by NightfireRed - G | 9,119 | regular office guys AU

broadcast by Pinkmanite - E | 3,250 | cam guy!pat, established relationship

The Full Monty by CoffeeKristin (WIP)- E | 22,849 | professional Dom!jonny

trace your path between the stars by thundersquall - E | 15,859 | space military a/b/o!

One Wedding Too Many by hockeyhawk - M | 5,850 | four weddings and a funeral AU

I'm asleep dreaming that I'm awake wondering if I'm dreaming (and it’s the best dream I ever had) by Caivallon - G | 1,162 | Ladyhawke AU

Ashes, Poison, and Thorns: a fairytale by allthebros - T | 1,950 | Cinderella AU

In Every Corner by hatrickane - E | 7,518 | Miss Congeniality AU

look me in the face (hold my gaze) by Pinkmanite - T | 9,296 | CMBYN AU

we're never done with killing time by liveinfury - T | 6,026 | soulmates au

Handsome, Clever and Rich by CoffeeKristin - T | 12,017 | Edwardian Period obliviousness

Hard liquor with a bit of intellect by huntersandangels - G | 5,745 | drunk texting proposals

Soothing ruffles feathers by candy_belle - M | 2,022 | wingfic!

Drown me sweetly by Caivallon - M | 1,476 | doctor!jon, mer!pat

Greenhouse Effect by allthebros - M | 1,888 | fuckbuddy realizations

Got Your Back by Prialee (WIP)- T | 39,768 | friends to lovers, 50/50 AU

That Feeling When by fourfreedoms - E | 4,612 | military AU

immigrant song by gasmsinc - E | 4,338 | 1988 is thorki

No Capes by sorrylatenew - T | 3,797 | The Incredibles AU!

Summer Changes by CoffeeKristin - G | 1,272 | summer camp love

Expected Result timestamp by hatrickane - E | established relationship

If you like pina coladas by CoffeeKristin - T | 2,621 | meet cute in a Jimmy Buffett concert

Somebody To Love by ThalassicThedes - 7,852 | 1960s AU, first time

efficacy by thirteentorafters - M | 12,014 | rookie year mpreg

God Only Knows by Linsky - E | 26,512 | mormon!jonny

The Care and Keeping of Your Kitten by Celly1995 - T | 5,564 | kitten kaner!

A Little Nip in the Air by Celly1995 - E | 12,030 | kitten!kaner tries catnip

Tell the Stars I'm Coming Home by allthebros (WIP) - E | 15,817 and counting | apocalypse angst

You gave me home and I lost myself by Caivallon - E | 4,823 | coffee shop in Thailand AU

A Healthy Dose of Vitamin Sea by Celly1995 - E | 16,137 | established relationship, part of the kazer dick cake fic of shame and glory series

Bigger on the Inside by Linsky - E | 25,671 | doctor who fusion

take a walk on the wild side by tazernkaner - T | 3,045 | college frat party AU

You Know I Dreamed About You by kayclandestine - M | 31,942 | they meet at a Hawks convention AU

We don't pray for love by runphoebe - E | 2,912 | HOT prequel to an angsty, unhealthy relationship fic Gonna Bite Your Feelings Out

Forever & Always, My Baby You'll Be by windsthatwhisper - G | 1,259 | kidfic

the shape of you by thundersquall - E | 15,962 | college au, always a girl!pat

Just A Spark by heartstrings - E | 19,751 | college au, magical realism

Every Little Thing He Does (is magic) by jezziejay - M | 65,459 | police chief!pat, witch!jonny, bonus little magic girls and a faithful doggo

bulletproof by thirteentorafters - M | 2,456 | Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU

Fearless child, broken boy (Tell me what it’s like to burn) by Caivallon - T | 1,359 | Hunger Games AU

Ricochet by heartstrings (WIP) - E | 40,075 and counting | partners in crime angst

i think of you in colors by toewsin (haroldslouis) - E | 24,893 | figure skating coach!pat, hockey coach!jon, Shattuck AU

Black Sunflowers by windsthatwhisper - E | 23,360 | mob boss!pat

We've Waited for the Calling by allthebros - E | 23,125 | small town horror au. love and magic and monsters!

Irreplaceable - M | 23,631 | first time, tattoo-related shenanigans

Son of a Preacher Man by PensToTheEnd - M | 22,432 | future priest!jon, homeless!pat

Téméraire by Pinkmanite - E | 24,531 | spy AU, angst with a happy ending

sugar, we're going down swinging by thundersquall - E | 59,112 | baker!pat, hotelier!jonny

Something Uniquely Him by hatrickane - E | 13,838 | a/b/o, age difference

No, It's Not A Secret by SimoneClouseau - E | 13,825 | college au, always a girl!jonny, size kink

Keep the fucking lights on by runphoebe - E | 8,661 | not hockey players, daddy kink, established relationship

You Turned My Head by hockeyhawk - E | 11,072 | incubus jonny

More Than Who We Are by amoergosum - E | 14,548 | trainer dietitian!jonny

Le Moose-bouche by AbschaumNo1 - T | 2,717 | established relationship, restaurant au

Can You Lyft Me Up? by Mullsandmutts - G | 27,912 | single dad!pat, meet cute

The Boy who kissed the Moon by Caivallon - M | 71,771 | childhood friends falling in love

Sweet Like Candy Kanes by sasha_annes - T | 21,060 | candy shop AU

your soul cries out (our hands are tied) by thirteentorafters - E | 18,313 | soul bonds

i know you are (but what am i) by booktubelover7 - T | 57,984 | always a girl!pat, high school AU

The Reality of Things by windsthatwhisper (WIP) - E | 8,232 | french teacher!jonny

a song someone sings by gasmsinc - E | 45,751 | anastasia au 

[purple-nightfall-writes]

a torn suit, chapter 2

in which scar and grian settle into a new normal

[purple-nightfall-writes]

director's commentary: "a torn suit" vs. "ruffled feathers"

a little compare and contrast on some of the specific ways "a torn suit" (the ruffled feathers role reversal au) played out differently from "ruffled feathers"

(spoilers for both ruffled feathers and a torn suit)

1. Grian figured out where they were going in ATS faster than Scar did in RF.

this is for several reasons. in ruffled feathers, they were traveling over the rooftops, and Grian was giving directions in terms of cardinal directions and buildings. this is because rf!grian has really good spatial awareness and a good mental map of the city, and also is still instinctively guarding his privacy. because of this, they got to Scar's apartment via a method that meant Scar didn't really see any identifying landmarks. (also this didn't really get mentioned in the fic but Scar doesn't really leave from his apartment as HotGuy normally; he goes to the lab first and then suits up there. until after the reveal because then Grian can just make him invisible so there isn't as much concern about being spotted leaving the apartment.) and he'd just never really gone around to the back side of his apartment building on the ground, so he didn't really recognize it from that angle. it's a pretty generic-looking building in terms of style, i'd imagine. so that's why it took until he saw his own porch decorations for him to figure out where they are.

in ATS, on the other hand, there was no way they could get there over the rooftops. if nothing else, grian wouldn't be able to carry scar the way scar (in the suit) could carry grian. grian is stronger than he looks but not strong enough to carry an entire scar for that long.

additionally, scar doesn't have the same type of mental map that grian does. he's used to thinking of things in terms of relatively ground-level navigation, whereas grian is used to seeing the city from the air. grian also just has stronger spatial awareness in general.

so because of that, they had to get there on foot, and scar was giving directions in a much more normal way - in terms of streets and blocks and apartment complex names. this all leads to grian having all the context clues (on top of his already stronger situational awareness).

all of which meant that my lovely role-reversal au still ended up with the identity reveal happening in the same direction as the original, if i followed the situation to its logical conclusions 😅 (don't worry i then engineered a completely different situation that would reasonably produce a CuteGuy-first reveal. i've been writing some on it today and it's shaping up to be fun :3)

2. Grian didn't guilt-spiral about his past when he learned HotGuy's identity in ATS, unlike in RF.

in ruffled feathers, grian had a whole spiral about feeling like he doesn't deserve scar and all that, thinking back to the way he'd treated him back when they were rivals. he's already primed for a classic case of "grian guilt" by the situation itself, since it's all caused by him needing help and reaching out for it and accidentally inciting a lot of consternation. so then in the moment it all feels like just another example of how he's hurt hotguy/scar.

in ats, on the other hand, he didn't have any reason to think back to the early days. plus he was in a life-or-death situation so none of that would have felt like it mattered even if it had come to mind. this led to a less guilt-ridden (if still not pleasant) reveal scenario.

i'd imagine that later down the road in that version of events, the guilt would still come up at some point. grian would still have A Time on realizing that Scar was the one he was chewing out regularly back in the day. they'd work through it, though it might be a slower process because it wouldn't have come to the surface as strongly. but they'd absolutely work through it.

3. Grian confessed his own identity much sooner (and much more painlessly) in ATS than in RF.

not having the guilt spiral made it a lot easier, and having been scared of losing scar gave him a lot more motivation. all the fear and anxiety and what-ifs just didn't hold much weight after that. plus scar gave him a pretty good opening with that "wow you reacted so fast" comment and grian was just like ...yeah, screw it, i'm doing this now

4. let's talk about the qpr :D

so the way their relationship develops in ATS - friends to Ambiguous Intense Secret Third Thing to That Plus Romantic - was mainly because I really wanted to write them with that dynamic. a lot of the other aspects of the story were like, i got there by letting the situations play out to their logical (and most narratively interesting) conclusions, and it felt like it had to be that way for one reason or another. this, on the other hand, was just a concept that I really wanted to play with and ATS gave me a good opportunity, if that makes sense. it did feel natural for their relationship to go that direction given the situation, but i had ulterior motives for nudging them that way.

i just really love the idea of a relationship where the climactic moment is two people mutually establishing that they're integrally important to each other's lives in a way that nothing can change, and any romantic developments after that feel almost like a footnote. like yeah the kiss was sweet but did you see how they're bonded by unshakable trust and mutual devotion. did you see how they're completely secure in the stability of their bond.

i love relationships that are platonic but really intense about it. i really enjoy reading either romantic or platonic scarian so long as they're like. uniquely important to each other. i like the idea of writing them in a more textbook qpr sometime but i also really like making them kiss on the mouth so 🤷‍♀️ in ats they're like... not purely queerplatonic i think, but that's still kind of the foundation of their relationship, if that makes sense. the romance aspect is there but i wanted it to feel sort of secondary. (i do also like making them madly horny for each other. and rf!au scarian are canonically very horny for each other so i couldn't exactly ignore that lol.)

(also i was fighting for my life to keep them from making out in the hospital room it was so tempting. but i had to stay strong to be able to write them being Secret Third Thing)

and that's all! i'm not sure if i'll do this for any of the other alts, but this one was a close enough parallel that i really wanted to write something up breaking down all the divergences.

i'm over halfway done with the next diverging paths fic, so hopefully that'll be soon! i am also having a lot of fun outlining the sequel fic in the canon timeline - i have the beginning and end pretty well nailed down, i just have to figure out a bit more substance and direction for the middle. i'm very excited for it; it's gonna be a lot of fun hehe :D

[purple-nightfall-writes]

👀(happy new year to you!!)

Thanks, anon! Happy new year to you too!!

Here, have a snippet from the next ruffled feathers role reversal au :3 I'd had hopes to finish it before the end of the year, but 'twas not to be, haha

The avian’s hands were over his face again before it entered Scar’s field of vision.  “Did you see?” he whispered.

“See what?”

“My face.”

Beneath his usual self-assurance, CuteGuy was terrified.

“No,” Scar answered honestly.  There had been too much chaos, and the room was much too dark.

Now that they were out in the light, though, Scar noticed that CuteGuy’s hair was several shades lighter - sandy-golden rather than its usual medium brown.  Pretty, he thought, as the sunlight glowed honey-like over the wavy strands.

“Good,” CuteGuy whispered.  “Those - those things drained my glamor.”  He took a shuddering breath, regaining some of his steadiness as he exhaled.  “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Huh.  Magic vampire bats.  Who’d have thought?”

CuteGuy gave a perfunctory chuckle.  “Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked.

“Nah, just a few scratches,” Scar said, as nonchalant as he could manage.  “Nothin’ the old HotCave can’t patch up!”

It was more than a few scratches, and it hurt quite a bit, but Scar figured CuteGuy had enough concerns of his own.

“Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes.”  CuteGuy’s voice was firm and insistent.  “Let me take a look.”