#wish i was more confident like eleanor

[1d1195]

Traditional III

I think this is a little bit of a slow start for this series, and I apologize for that, I'm still kinda setting up some background pieces. I got a few big plans ahead here. I hope you like it. You can find the first two parts here: Traditional

Warnings: slight 18+ topics mentioned (like you have to squint to see them)

“Do...you expect...more from me?” She asked quietly. She didn’t meet his gaze as she asked. Harry saw the way her cheeks turned pink as she spoke.

"I would love t’do more with you of course. But m’not an animal. M’not going to make you.”

“You kind of pay me to do that though,” she reminded him still not fully looking at him.

"M’not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to. I just want to spoil you.”

Harry was quietly but almost assuredly in love. There were hundreds of reasons not to be. First and foremost, she was his intern. Maybe not his directly...but at his company, nonetheless. There were so many issues with falling in love with someone that was subordinate to him. But here he was. The second reason was of course that he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with someone he was paying money to for the arrangement agreed upon.

But how could he not? She was the most adorable thing he had ever laid eyes on. She was so kind and intelligent. The way her nerves seemed to amplify while she was at dinner with him versus the confidence she exuded when she shook his hand was unbelievably cute. He thought of all the things to be nervous about, it would be working at his company. But apparently, spending the evening with someone who already wanted to be in her presence was the kind of thing to get someone so cutely riled up.

The second he heard her voice say Styles Incorporated he was done for. He wanted it to be her last name—he didn’t care about how ridiculous the sentiment was. Hearing her say his last name sounded so perfect in her voice he practically melted. The moment he saw her in person was like trying to balance himself on a tightrope. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let her go. But he was the boss of the company she was interning for, so he had to pretend he was just meeting her. Like he didn’t just scour her interest profile and all social media looking at her cute little being.

Hey beautiful. What are you up to today? Do you want to come over? I make really good Ramen.

Oh, I’d really like that! She answered almost instantly. Harry smiled excitedly at the prospect of seeing the sweet girl in a few minutes. But...I’m building my furniture with Louis and Eleanor :(

Harry frowned. He didn’t want her to build her cheap furniture. He didn’t want her buying cheap furniture. But he wasn’t going to make her return everything she already bought...and he wasn’t going to make her skip out on her friends...as much as he wanted her to. Oh. Don’t you mean you and Eleanor? He remembered what she said good naturedly about her best friend.

No literally, lol. Yes. Me and Eleanor, you’re right. She sent a laughing emoji and Harry wished he could hear her laugh out loud. He loved her light little giggle that he got to enjoy at dinner the other night. He didn’t get to see her today at work, but he wished he did. It was why he was asking her if she wanted to come over now.

While he was reminiscing about her, he missed the three little dots signaling her second reply. We were going to order pizza...if you like pineapple on your pizza you CAN’T come over but if you like GOOD pizza, then you can come and entertain Eleanor and I if you’d like.

He thought her humor was easily one of his favorite qualities about her. Have you tried it love? It’s not that bad.

Here I was, starting to like you...I’m not ordering it.

He chuckled at her response. I won’t make you...I’ll be there in fifteen?

I’ll see you then :)

Harry wasn’t really one to worry about what to wear, but suddenly he had no idea. What do you wear to help your employee, but also love interest, but also companion that he found off the internet to help build cheap furniture? He decided on a pair of dark jeans, a T-shirt, and some trainers he had lying by the door of his home. It occurred to him he was meeting her best friends and he thought that maybe he should have put in a bit more effort. It was only their second time together outside of work. Nonetheless, he was very excited and really looking forward to seeing her in her element.

*

“Louis,” she begged.

“I just want to ask him how many millions he’s worth. I don’t know why that’s an issue.”

She looked at Eleanor pleadingly. “Lou,” she said gently and then smiled kindly.

“Oh alright,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ll behave. But I won’t like it.”

At that moment, her phone signaled she had a visitor waiting in the lobby. She didn’t know if it would be pizza or Harry, so she headed down with her wallet just in case.

As she descended the staircase the one floor, she seemed to have an epiphany that she was wearing a pair of leggings and a t-shirt she would typically wear to the spin class she went to once a year with Eleanor. She realized she was entirely underdressed to see someone as beautiful as Harry. More so someone that she was employed by—in more than one way. She doesn’t know what possessed her to invite Harry over to meet her friends and build furniture. But she did know. She knew because she already liked him so much.

“Wow, thanks, mate,” the man was stuffing the money into his pocket as Harry held the three pizza boxes in his hands. She imagined Harry must have given him a substantial tip. In her head, Harry probably didn’t walk around with any bill smaller than a fifty.

“Oh, Harry. You didn’t have to do that,” she said quickly hurrying over to the pizza guy and Harry. The delivery guy was someone that she had run into several times over the last few years since she loved this pizza place.

“Oh, hey lady,” he smirked at her. “Your boyfriend said he would pay. Figured it wasn’t an issue,” he shrugged. Her cheeks pinked at the word boyfriend directed at Harry and she bit her lip waiting for Harry to answer instead. She waved gently to the man exiting with the large tip and he winked at her over his shoulder. He gave her a thumbs up and she swore she could see him mouth the word upgrade.

“Not a problem, love,” he responded with an easy smile. “Just happened here at the same time.”

With pizza in hand, she awkwardly made her way back to the stairwell trying to calm her nerves. Especially since Louis never had a filter. Harry was professional and lovely. He paid her in more than one way, and he was about to meet her crazy best friends. She worried she was about to lose both sources of income in a matter of minutes. “Y’okay, kitten?” He asked quietly as she approached her door.

“Mhmm...” she hummed. “Nervous.”

He chuckled. “Don’t be,” he said it easily. “M’excited t’meet your friends.” Swallowing, she nodded and pushed the door open.

“How much do we owe you?” Louis called from the living room.

“Um...Harry paid, so you’d have to ask him,” she still sounded nervous as she kicked her flipflops off at the door and made her way through the little entry way.

“S’all set,” Harry said easily. Obviously. It was pizza, and he didn’t mind in the slightest paying for the four of them. He set the pizzas on the counter in the kitchen and turned to her friends spread about empty cardboard boxes and plastic bags. Her couch was pushed against the wall facing the TV and the new stand it sat upon. She had music playing softly in the background that echoed through the room from the TV. Eleanor was focused on the directions in front of her while Louis twirled the little wrench in his hand.

“Thanks, Harry,” Louis said and stood to hold his hand out. “Nice t’meet you. Heard a lot about you,” he smirked.

“Hi Harry,” Eleanor chirped leaving the directions to flutter back to the floor and gave him a hug. “Thanks for coming to help. Louis gets us distracted a lot.”

“Entertained,” he corrected. Harry chuckled.

“Looks like you’ve made a lot of progress,” he noted that the coffee table was also completed in addition to the TV stand.

“Miss Impatient over there couldn’t wait,” Louis said. “El and I are on dresser duty.”

“Shh,” she hushed as she was still putting out paper plates and getting some napkins to put beside the pizza. “The coffee table and TV stand were like three parts total.”

Harry chuckled. “Didn’t take you as impatient, love,” he said softly in her direction.

She ignored his comment. “Can I get you a drink?” She asked as if the conversation around her wasn’t happening.

“Oh, she hides it very well,” Louis told Harry.

“She’s not impatient Louis,” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “She’s independent.”

“Terrible really,” Louis murmured causing Harry to chuckle.

“Water is fine, kitten,” he finally responded as if he wasn’t causing the racing of her heart just by being there.

*

Louis and Eleanor left after two bookshelves, the dresser, and the night table were put together. Louis claimed exhaustion because he was old despite Eleanor and her doing most of the heavy lifting. After a grateful goodbye, she ushered them out the door, Eleanor whispering to call her later in her ear.

In her eyes, it was really starting to look and feel like home. Harry was extremely helpful and wasn’t irritated at all by the lifting or the tedious labor of putting together cheap furniture. Harry was in fact pushing the bookshelves into position. “Y’should really anchor this down,” he told her.

“Er...I don’t want to mess up the walls. They charge you a fortune for that when you move out,” she explained. Harry smirked at her knowingly.

“I’d like t’see them try.”

She snorted and pushed her boxes labeled books toward the shelves. “Sorry, I forgot,” she said. “You’re very...down to earth.”

“Thank you, love. I try t’be.” Harry was reading the titles of the books as he put them on her shelves. He thought you could learn a lot about a person based on what they read. She seemed to read a bit of everything which made sense. She appeared worldly and intelligent. Her choices ranged from psychological non-fiction to romantic novels set at Christmas time. There were several historical fiction books as well. “You read a lot?” He asked.

“I used to...” she shrugged. “I get really caught up in my schoolwork. When I have time in the summer, I can read two to three books a week but that’s only when I’m not stressed about other things.”

“I see.”

“Do you read?”

“Uh...a little here and there...but not too often. I should read more. I get very busy with the company and everything,” he explained.

“I’ve been trying to read for thirty minutes every day since...well...since I was staying with Louis and Eleanor. I turn my phone off and set a timer on the microwave and everything. Louis hated waiting for it to be over so we could watch our shows and stuff.”

“S’nice you have Louis and Eleanor,” Harry remarked. “I don’t know what I’d do without Niall.”

“They’ve been the best people in my life for so long,” she said with so much kindness, so much reverence for them, Harry felt his heart stutter just as a bystander for her love for the pair.

“How did you meet them?”

“Louis was my older brother’s best friend. Since before grade school. They did everything together. He’s like my own brother...and Eleanor has been in his life since they were in high school, she’s like an older sister to me, too.”

“Oh, s’nice. I didn’t know you had a brother.”

There was a pause. If Harry wasn’t so enthralled by her, he might have missed how brief the pause really was. But he watched her swallow as she broke the cardboard box down and set it to the side as she slid the next one in front of her to start placing more books on the shelf. Her eyebrows pinched together just slightly. “He died when I was in high school,” she murmured. “Louis and Eleanor haven’t left me alone since.”

Harry thought of his older sister Gemma. The thought of her dying was enough to break his heart. He was overcome with grief for the poor girl who just casually went on organizing her books. Harry wasn’t sure how she could remain upright. How she could continue living. Gemma was one of his best friends. The way she spoke about Louis and Eleanor with so much admiration...he could only imagine how much love she had for her biological brother. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “M’so sorry, love,” he said quietly.

She nodded, swallowed hard again. She didn’t speak for a few minutes. Harry just let her put her books on the shelf and he silently watched her as it was clear the grief while manageable probably hurt a lot at times like this. Her eyes glistened a bit and she shook her head. “You have a sister, you said?” She asked eventually.

“Yeah, she’s older than me, too. Her name’s Gemma.”

She nodded. “You should call her and tell her you love her,” she said quietly. “Often,” she mumbled.

Harry thought he would cry. “I will,” he promised.

They were quiet for a bit of time until all the books were neatly displayed. She stood up and cracked her neck side to side and put her hands on her hips. “Thank you,” she said finally. He shook his head.

“Not a problem, love.”

He was looking at her like she might break down crying. “Can I ask you something?” She wondered.

“Of course.”

“Do...you expect...more from me?” She asked quietly. She didn’t meet his gaze as she asked. Harry saw the way her cheeks turned pink as she spoke. The change in subject seemed so rapid but Harry didn’t know much about the grief she was feeling. It may have been over five years since it happened, but he imagined that coping with it was something that was still so prominent in her life. He wished he dug deeper into her social media. Wished that he searched her name in obituary searches or asked about her family earlier. It seemed like an entirely vulnerable way to bring it up and now she was stuck with him in her apartment where she probably felt completely exposed.

Hence her question. Taking a deep breath Harry wanted to tell her he would love to make out with her like a horny college frat boy. And yes, he had thought of bending her over this cheap furniture at least ten times since he arrived. But Harry liked to believe he wasn’t like most men on the website he found her on; he would never make her do anything she didn’t want to. He wanted her to be comfortable around him. Especially since he was kind of falling madly in love with her with every passing second. “I don’t expect anything but for you t’be yourself, kitten,” he said softly. “If our...relationship heads that way, m’open to it, of course. You’re beautiful, intelligent, kind, and funny. I would love t’do more with you of course. But m’not an animal. M’not going to make you.”

“You kind of pay me to do that though,” she reminded him still not fully looking at him. Her eyes darted to the pile of flattened cardboard boxes, and he watched the way her fingers kind of shook as she reached for other scraps of plastic and Styrofoam to put in the trash pile.

Tilting his head at her, he reached out and placed a hand over hers, stilling the shakiness and gave her a squeeze. It felt like heaven just to hold her hand. Harry felt so lucky he found her before someone else did. “M’not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to. I just want to spoil you.”

“And help me build cheap furniture that you hate?” She asked with a smirk. She squeezed his hand back and Harry swore he could hear wedding bells in his head.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me,” he practically groaned. “I would’ve bought you real furniture.”

She grinned so cutely, wrinkling her nose at him. “I bought a real couch and bed.”

“A miracle, it seems,” he grumbled looking at the particle board that seemed to bend a bit with each book she placed on the last shelf.

*

Harry felt he was floating he sat in his office. Spending the evening with her, even just building furniture, furthered how smitten he was with the angel he happened to find on the Internet. Over the last month they hung out several more times, not doing much of anything of importance. Some nights they went out and Harry bought her fancy meals and drinks (and her favorite desserts). Other nights they watched a movie on her comfy, stable couch while Harry wondered if her TV stand was going to fall apart under the weight of her TV.

In the meantime, she didn’t see much of Harry while at work. Most of the time she was in Niall’s office tending to his needs and learning the ins and outs of his job. From what Niall said and what he could see, she was a natural, of course. She was brilliant. “If m’not careful, she might take my job,” Niall chuckled rubbing the back of his head. They were meeting in Harry’s office going over his latest spreadsheet that was so much more organized than the last five years of spreadsheets Niall ever provided. As anticipated, it was all thanks to her.

Harry smirked and rolled his eyes. “You would be so lucky,” he muttered.

“You like this one,” Niall noted. Harry avoided his friend’s eye contact as he looked through the papers on his desk.

Harry nodded. “She’s good,” he shrugged.

“The others were good,” Niall replied, knowingly.

“Are y’snooping as my employee or my friend?” He asked without looking up.

“Best friend,” he qualified.

Harry shrugged again and thought about the pretty girl just down the hall looking adorable and being her perfect self. He hadn’t told Niall yet. But he wanted to. His only hesitation was making her uncomfortable. He didn’t think Niall would say or do anything, but...the idea of betraying her trust or making her feel inadequate at work made him feel like it could be the most horrible thing in the world. “She gets me tea,” he smirked.

“Honestly, I was shocked you gave her company card on the first day,” he chuckled.

Harry felt his eyebrows knit close together. “What?” He said simply.

Niall was seated across from him casually and he glanced at Harry almost curiously. He shrugged. “The coffee and tea?” He asked.

“I thought you gave her a card.”

Niall blinked in surprise. “Uh...no,” he shook his head. “I didn’t give her anything.”

Harry felt irritated. The kind of irritation he felt when she tried to pay for dinner. Or when she bought cheap furniture. Or any time she thought she was inconveniencing him. There was a knock on the other side of Harry’s office at that moment. “Come in,” he called.

“Oh, speak of the angel,” Niall grinned brightly. Harry stared at her, coffee, tea in her hand. Smiling kindly as she entered, she set the tray of drinks on Harry’s desk, and he watched her every movement.

“Talking about me?” She asked quietly. “Doesn’t sound good.”

“All good things, darling,” he promised.

“How do you pay for our coffee?” Harry asked bluntly, quickly, ignoring Niall entirely. He was miffed. In over a month of being here she had probably spent at least a hundred dollars a week of her own money on coffee for the three of them. More, if she went on behalf of other people. Which she was apt to do if anyone asked while in the same room when she asked Niall if he wanted something.

“Harry,” he said quietly. “Stop,” Niall rolled his eyes.

“Uh...I pay for it,” she admitted.

Niall blinked. “You pay for it?” He asked.

“Um...yeah...I thought—”

“Darling, that’s probably cost you a small fortune...s’not sustainable.”

Technically it was Harry buying coffee. But that’s not what he gave her money for.

“Really, it’s okay. I have—”

Harry was already pulling a checkbook out of his top desk drawer. He wrote her name and made it out for a thousand dollars before sliding it to her. She blanched seeing the amount. Oh, she was going to get an earful later. She just knew it. “Let me know if you need more,” he said simply. “Niall, can you please go get her a company card?” Niall stood taking his drink from the tray and headed for the door. He knew when Harry meant business. Literally and figuratively. This was one of those times. He didn’t fully understand why Harry was all up in arms about this, but if he was going to write her a check for coffee, he wasn’t going to question his friend’s reasoning.

“Wait, Niall...,” she said hurriedly. Her cheeks were warming, and her heart rate felt aflutter...like when Harry picked her up from her apartment and held doors open for her. “I...I just set up a tab with the Starbucks across the street. They give us a discount because I go so often. I just tip them and pay at the end of each week...it’s not this much,” she said quickly handing the check back to Harry. A look passed between the two of them and Harry looked away briefly before Niall caught it. He didn’t want him to be suspicious...he would tell him. Niall was his best friend after all. But he couldn’t do it in the workplace. This was a private conversation for sure.

“You set up a tab?” Niall asked. Harry stared at her with so much...annoyance. She could feel his irritation seeping through the air, and she truly thought she was going to lose both her jobs for this. It was just coffee and she had already told Harry she didn’t need as much money as he gave her. Coffee was the least she could do. “Why didn’t we think of that?” Niall directed his question to Harry.

Harry didn’t know either. His agitation disintegrated by the second as he realized she was much more brilliant than he gave her credit for—even for something as simple and lovely as coffee. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone. It made her look like she was in trouble with a school principal. Her fingers fidgeted with the pockets of her skirt and Harry thought about how he wanted to kick Niall out of his office and how much he would love to rip the skirt off her so he could have her all to himself. She was too beautiful, too smart. He was grateful he was seated behind his desk hiding his lower half. “Don’t buy coffee for anyone here with your own money,” Harry told her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh stop,” Niall said shaking his head coming back to her. He put a hand on her arm and gave her a gentle squeeze. “‘Thank you, darling.’ Is what Harry meant.”

“Yes. Thank you. Don’t do it again.” Harry didn’t fully understand what was happening to him regarding this perfect girl. Never in his life did he anticipate finding a companion online, spoiling her rotten, and seemingly falling for her at the same time. So much so that he was jealous of Niall. He wanted to yank his best friend’s arm out of its socket solely for touching her arm.

Unfortunately, she saw the way his eyes connected with Niall’s hand on her arm. She was definitely going to get an earful tonight.

--

taglist: @tpwkstiles @matildasatellite @jessitpwk @jerseygirlinca

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #ceo!harry #sugardaddy!harry #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #traditional

[dykementality]

forgive me if you're not interested, but I'd actually love to hear more of your thoughts on the maroon arc, what you thought was/wasn't done well. would u like to share?

hii i didnt see this. im gonna apologize right away bc this is not gonna be organized i have talked soooo much today already and im tired lol.

for starters what i think was done best is flint and madis dynamic. its incredibly well played both as individual characters and as representatives of pirates and maroons in relation to empire. their chemistry is crazy and their dialogues are extremely didactic. i also find that flint not immediately viewing the maroons as natural allies but as tools to reach his own purposes and later deconstructing that after getting involved with them aggregates to his ongoing theme of progressive radicalization which i think is also a highlight of the maroon arc in the way it makes it explicit for good that his political stance has done a 360 and is now entirely discordant from the one he had as a lieutenant in every aspect that matters. freeing and partnering with the maroons is expected after that and i dont think theres anything special on that regard. then the shitty parts are essentially everything else. especially steinberg admitting he stalled to really explore the topic of slavery due to not being in his element as a white guy but still not putting black people on the team to do it. this reflects very obviously in the show and makes the entire arc feel rushed and reticent besides leaving a billion loose threads and missing opportunities to appropriately explore character dynamics that couldve been way more interesting (such as silver/julius/flint & madi/eme & madi/eleanor & eleanor/scott) and really engage confidently in the impact that flint and the pirates having canonically sold slaves would have had in their relationship. speaking of julius i also very much felt like it was a tragedy to hinder his presence and had they started it earlier or extended it longer his perspective on war vs. protecting his community as opposed to madi’s for example would have been probably my favorite part of the arc. i know the version in my head of it is. all in all its a vital arc for the story and everyone slayed really hard with with they had i just wish the creators hadnt shied away from all the implications of it. if i had the energy to go look for some posts for u i would bc my mutuals have definitely also discussed this before but alas. thanks for asking anyways feel free to add ur own thoughts or question mine further

#correio

[jerzwriter]

Breathe Again

Book:                   Crimes of Passion (Book 1)

Pairing:                Trystan Thorne x F!MC (Carolina Rose)

Rating:                 Teen

Warnings: Hospital; mentions of death

Summary:   Trystan thought they were all safe when he pulled Carolina from the burning greenhouse, but his relief was short-lived when she collapsed moments later. This fic explores what happened next.

Words: 1,800

A/N: I want to thank @lexicook74-blog for this idea. She wanted a fic where we get a little insight into what was on Trystan's mind the night after they confronted Eleanor & Tony. I hope you like what I came up with.

Dr. Stevenson, please report to the ER. Dr. Stevenson, report to the ER.

The blaring announcement startled Trystan, jolting him into an upright position in the hard, plastic chair that had served as his home and his bed for the past twenty-four hours. His mind was in a fog, head bobbling as he fought the exhaustion struggling to overtake him. It turned out the disturbance was a blessing, as sleep was the last thing Trystan desired.

He could still hear their voices: the physician who treated him, Marguerite, Uncle Tommy, Luke... Apparently, in America, rest is subscribed for someone who just endured a traumatic, life-threatening event. Throw in a recent stabbing, some magnificent bruising, smoke inhalation, and... yes, sleep was advised. But after their umpteenth attempt to convince him failed, Trystan made his position painfully clear... he would not leave Carolina’s side until she opened her eyes. Nervous looks were exchanged, and Marguerite sprung into action. She knew her brother well enough to know he wouldn’t be deterred, so a compromise was reached.

“I'll have them bring in a bed for you,” she offered. “It will be right next to Carolina’s. This way, you can sleep, but you’ll still be there the moment she wakes up.”

He smiled and nodded, anything to usher them away. If anyone fussed over him a moment longer, he was sure he'd lose his mind. But before their loved ones had made it down the hall, Trystan summonsed a nurse and informed her the bed was not needed. A bed would be soft, warm, and inviting. The comfort would undoubtedly seduce him, providing the exhaustion he had been valiantly battling with a worthy accomplice. No, the chair would do just fine.

The garish fluorescent lighting helped keep his tired eyelids open. But he wondered if they disturbed Carolina. Sure, she wasn't awake, but therein lay the problem; she wouldn't be able to tell him if they were a hindrance, after all. Hopping to his feet, he flipped the switch, leaving the soft glow from Carolina’s monitors the only light in the room. He wasn’t sure if it was wishful thinking, something to make him believe he had been of use, but he swore she looked more at peace. He ran his hand through her hair. She was more comfortable, and he could fight this. He could stay awake, even in this delicate haze. Stumbling into the chair next to her bed, he was confident. There was no way he’d allow himself to fall asleep... then he did.

But if his body was at rest, the same couldn’t be said for his mind. Visions of the day's events played over repeatedly in his mind. If only his life had been put in danger, he would have been able to shake it off. He could be grateful to have survived and erased it from his memory, but he hadn’t been alone. He already knew what losing the most important person in your life was like; he had barely survived it and wasn't certain he could endure it again. Marguerite and Carolina meant more to him than anything in this world, and looking at the possibility of their deaths in the eye had left him with scars that wouldn't easily heal.  

The memories of escaping the burning greenhouse and the horrors that had taken place inside played like a grainy, avant-garde film. He could feel the cool night air hitting him again, just barely pulling Carolina past the threshold. The frigid rain felt like a welcomed friend as it poured upon them; perhaps it would wash the memories away along with the soot. washing the soot away. However unpleasant, it served as a reminder... they survived. Surrendering to the thought that they were safe at last, he collapsed to his knees. The slight smirk on his lips grew into a full-blown grin when Marguerite rushed toward them. They found the killers and lived to tell. The ordeal was over... then, the unthinkable.

He couldn’t recall much after Carolina collapsed, but the sound of her body crashing against the pavement and his plaintiff wail that followed were etched in his mind. He cradled her in his arms until the paramedics arrived... coaxing her to hold on... begging her to stay alive for him. Then, everything went gray.

When he came to, he was on an examination table in a nondescript room in the corner of a busy emergency department. Police guarded the doorway as a chaotic scene played outside. 

“I'm telling you, I’m fine!” He furiously barked at the doctor. Did they expect him to be cooperative at a time like this?

“I don’t doubt you,” the older physician smiled. “But it’s my job to ensure that.”

“You’ve been making sure for... look,” Trystan pleaded, “please, take me to Carolina. You can finish examining me there if you must!”

“I’ll do one better,” the doctor grinned. “You’re done. I need to review follow-up care with you, but I know how anxious you must be to get to your wife. I’d be the same way. The nurse will take you and your sister to her room, and I’ll be up momentarily.” 

Marguerite’s eyes met Trystan’s with a raised brow when the doctor stepped out of the room. “Did you two run off to City Hall while I was being held captive?”

“Sure,” he smirked. “You were kidnapped, and the first thing I thought was, let’s get hitched.”   

She tilted her head, still confused at the change in status.

“One of the police officers was kind enough to remind me only family would be able to visit. So I lied and said she was my wife.”  

“With all the reporters buzzing around here, I’m sure that will be on the front page of every rag in Drakovia by tomorrow.”  

“Normally, they have to come up with lies on their own,” he shrugged. “Today, I made their job easier.”

Soon, a nurse ushered them into Carolina’s room, and Trystan’s heart sank at the sight of her. His vivacious little firecracker lay motionless, eyes shut, and her complexion so ashen, it left her almost unrecognizable. The vision of her Uncle Tommy grasping her hand, tears cascading down his plump cheeks, led Trystan to assume the worst. His body tensed, and his blood went cold; his mind demanded an answer, but his heart wouldn't allow him to utter the words. Tommy took one look at him and jumped to his feet.

“Oh, no!” he assured. “No, no...she’s just... sleeping. The doctors said it would take some time... I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No worries about that,” Trystan sighed with relief. “I've been frightened to the point of no return the past few days.”

“I’m sure you’ll return just fine,” Tommy said with a tap on his shoulder.  

The doctors filled him in on her condition ... the next 24 hours were crucial... if she didn't wake up on her own during that time... but he wouldn’t let his mind go there. Throughout the night, doctors came in and out of the room. Luke, Ruby, and Mafalda texted, and Captain Thompson made an appearance, too. Though Trystan was sure, that was for a photo op. When Tommy was convinced to head home for some rest, the campaign to pressure Trystan to do the same began... and he promptly shut it down, smiling with relief when they all left.

At last, it was just him and Carolina. The whirling sounds of the equipment helping her get well were the only sounds around them. Thinking he might finally be able to breathe, he pulled the uncomfortable chair closer to her bed, brushed a few stray tendrils of hair away from her face, and took her hand.

“Just because I scared the hell out of you recently didn’t mean you had to return the favor for me, Carolina. If this relationship is going to work, I can’t have this type of retaliatory behavior. You do understand?”

A simple "Understood" would have filled him with joy, and perhaps she would have said it if she were awake... if she could hear him... but she wasn’t, and any breath he thought he found escaped him all at once.   

“Please, Carolina...” he sobbed as his grip on her hand tightened. “Please wake up... I cannot... I cannot lose you.”  

The time after Juliana went missing had been the darkest days of his life. Trystan had never known such sadness, desperation, and fear. But it was essential to find her; there were things he had to do. He moved heaven and earth, trying to save the woman he loved until hope was lost. As he sat vigil beside Carolina, he wasn’t sure he wasn't sure he knew how to do this. He was desperate to help her, his hands, mind, and heart longed for something to do... for anything to do. But all he could do was wait, and the helplessness was unbearable.

Closing his eyes, he clenched his trembling hands and did something he hadn't done in longer than he could remember... he offered a prayer to a god he wasn’t sure he believed in. As the hours passed, he pleaded, begged, and bargained. Then he questioned... if there was a god at all. If there were, how could they be this cruel? To bring Carolina into his life, to allow him to open himself again, to care this much, only to have that stolen away once more? If there was a god, Trystan wasn't sure he'd want any part of them.

He talked to Carolina when the silence became unbearable. Sometimes sweetly, sometimes saying things he knew would infuriate her and have her snapping back if she could answer. But eventually, her lack of response only amplified the ache in his heart. A memory from a simpler time crossed his mind, a time when the simplest of things could console him. Smiling tenderly, he caressed Carolina’s cheek and softly sang her a Drakovian lullaby. The one his favorite nanny put him to sleep with each night as a young boy.     

After several stanzas, he was sure it helped. He was convinced it soothed his love as much as it soothed him, perhaps a little too well. Within minutes, his heavy eyelids lost their battle, and Trystan was fast asleep. 

The morning sun rose without Trystan or Carolina to greet it. He lay crumpled up in the chair with a very unregal bit of drool dripping from his chiseled chin. He didn’t hear her gentle groan nor the rustling of the bedsheets as Carolina started to stir. But there was no way he could miss what followed.

“Morning, handsome,” she grumbled.

At first, he thought it was a dream. Her voice was so beautiful; it had to be that of an angel. But when his eyes shot open, all doubt was gone... it was an angel, more beautiful than any Botticelli had ever hoped to create.

“You’re awake,” he gasped, voice hoarse with emotion. 

Each prayer had been answered, every wish fulfilled. For the first time since Carolina’s body had fallen to the ground, Trystan could breathe again.

@choicesficwriterscreations (Other tags in reblog)

#choices fanfic #crimes of passion #crimes of passion choices #playchoices #choices the stories you play #trystan thorne #trystan thorne x f!mc #m!trystan thorne x f!mc #playchoices fanfic #crimes of passion fanfic #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

[dearshelby]

Once again, Tommy Shelby and Eleanor Nelson get on a battle of wits, but will they stick strictly on business? | Jack x Eleanor AU pt. II

Spoiled. That's how Eleanor felt walking through the Garrison lane. So many years living in luxury taught her to despise the humble and the street that was once normal to her, now looked ugly and dirty, unworthy of her.

Inside the pub, Tommy waited for her, cigarette burning on his lips and eyes often wandering to the bottles of whiskey on the shelf. He didn't have a plan or a script to follow, their reunion was scheduled based solely on instinct.

He believed taking Eleanor from Jack's guard would be good for business.

“I left the children alone,” she greeted, “so this has to be quick, what do you have for me?”

“Jack isn't home?” Tommy questioned, observing as he was, he noticed the sorrow underneath her confident tone every time he mentioned her marriage.

“No, honestly, sometimes I wish he'd be more like you as a father,” she spat out, softening her answer with condolences, “I heard your daughter is sick, I'm sorry for that,”

Tommy's jaw clenched, no one outside the family had dared to mention Ruby yet. Family was his anchor and many wouldn't dare cut the rope to it. He sighed, not accepting to be taken off control.

“What do you drink?”

“What are you having?”

“Water,”

“Then water it is,” she weakly smiled, her brummie accent wasn't as strong as his.

He poured her a glass and they sat down together. At first silent, like generals inspecting the enemy's territory before going to battle.

“So?” she asked.

“Before we start, tell me this, why did you accept my invitation?”

“Honesty? I thought I'd be your messenger pigeon,” she admitted.

“Matter of fact?” he arched his eyebrows, “You accepted to come back to Small Heath, to a pub you don't know, to be alone with a man, because you thought I had a message for Mr. Nelson?”

“Thomas,” she scoffed, “I don't know what you're implying but if you're trying to play one of Jane it won't work,”

“Oh, no wish for payback, then?” he nodded, “Good, forgiving women are good,”

“Hm, I wouldn't use that word,”

“You love Mr. Nelson, don't you?”

“We've been married for twenty four years, love doesn't matter anymore,” she mumbled, then counterattacked, “do you love Elizabeth?”

He looked down. Did he? Tommy guessed so. She's been there since forever, he couldn't imagine life without her, but did he love her like a husband should a wife? He didn't know.

“I do,”

“Good,” she licked her lips with malice, “do you love Elizabeth like you loved Grace Burgess?”

Tommy froze, he was never approached about Grace's death, to the point he wasn't ready to be, it was still an open wound, just covered by a bunch of bandages, but nonetheless open.

Luckily, Eleanor carried on, “Y’know, people like the Burgess used to hire Jack's services when he still worked for the italians, they don't like getting their hands dirty, they're agents, inspectors, cavalry, politicians like the Mosleys and like you must've noticed, people like the Mosleys, the Burgess and the Mitfords, don't like people like Jack, like Elizabeth or like me and you,”

“...what's your point, Mrs. Nelson?”

“Call me Eleanor,”

“Hm?”

“There's no point,” she sighed, sipping on her water, “Elizabeth used to go to my sewing shop, she was younger than me and some customers always ripped her clothes, I never charged her to sew it back,”

“Do you want her to write you a thank you letter?” he mocked, hating when people brought up his wife's past.

“No, I just want you to realize people like you are the only ones able to antagonize with Mosley,” she explained, “Jack doesn't see it,”

Tommy gulped, if this business was a chess board, he had no idea of where to place Eleanor. Lately, he wasn't even sure if he was the king, the horse or a simple pawn.

“Now, do you really have nothing for me?” she stared and scoffed at his lack of answer, “Well, take care of yourself, you're thinner since the last time we met,”

With confident slow steps, she left the pub. Tommy was alone again.

#OC Eleanor Shelby #tommy shelby x oc #idk how to stop or where this is going #help #i just want you to feel the ✨️vibes✨️ #oh and it wasn't proofread sooo #yeah

[knightinink]

Y’know what I want to read? A fic where Pip is in the process of meeting his new adoptive parents. It’s a good experience, nothing goes wrong & everything is nice :)

The boy wrung the bottom of his blazer nervously, keeping his head low and chewing his bottom lip. He had been so excited; for today was the day he was finally going to meet his potential adoptive parents! But now, as he was standing a mere few feet in front of the couple, a nervousness overtook that previous excitement. Would they like him? Would he be good enough for them? Would he be a good fit for their family? All these questions were buzzing around in his head, increasing his worry.

He was brought out of his thoughts as the woman, blonde hair pulled into a bun while her bangs fell around her gentle face, framing it just right, spoke up softly.

“Hello dear,” she said with a smile, “what’s your name?”

Keeping his head low but looking up in surprise to meet her eyes, he quietly responded in an accent that was very similar to hers.

“Pip, ma’am.” Some of his nervousness remained, but it was steadily being replaced with a sense of astonishment and awe.

“That’s a lovely name, dear!” She smiled warmly.

Shuffling ever so slightly, the boy bashfully kicked the ground beneath him as he chuckled nervously. “Thank’ye, ma’am. My real name is actually Philip, but everyone calls me Pip, because they hate me, so I just tend to stick with that. N-not that I mind, though!” He stammered, noticing the familiar look of pity upon the woman’s face, and he noticed, was on the man’s too.

The look remained on her face a moment longer before she let it melt back into one of reassurance. “Do you wish to be called Philip?” She regarded him gently; cautiously. He appreciated that, and let himself relax. 

“Sometimes.” The last time he could remember being called by his real name was when Joe had hugged him goodbye at the docks the morning he had left for the states, tearfully telling him that he was “gonna do great things!”. He smiled thoughtfully at the memory. “I wouldn’t mind it”.

“Well then, Philip it is then!” She exclaimed, and took a step forward holding out a hand. “My name is Eleanor. It is so very nice to finally meet you, Philip! We’ve been very excited.” She motioned to her husband, a tall brunet, who gave a friendly wave in response. 

The boy hesitated for just a moment, before lifting his head and stepping forward, carefully taking her hand in his, and shaking it in greeting. She smiled as she knelt down to his level, and he could tell just from her behavior thus far that she was being genuine. He smiled, and his handshake grew more confidant. 

This one, he felt, would finally work out okay in the end.

He was sure of it.

#I may fix this up a bit later & lengthen it as there is quite a bit of distracting noise around me currently #but I like this idea a lot #and yes it's a British couple in South Park go figure #but this is one of those rare times where I just let my favorite character be happy & nothing goes wrong #yes the couple is the one he was caroling with back in season 1 #I just want to let pip be happy sometimes :') #pip pirrup #my writing #south park

[royallyxmessy]

{eleanor tomlinson,31, cisfemale, she/her} We are so glad to see you safe, LADY ISOLDE FULTZ NEE WETTIN of GERMANY! It’s dangerous out in the world these days, but I hear that you are COMPASSIONATE and HUMBLE enough to handle it. Just don’t let your COVETOUSNESS bring you down! Stay on your guard, because with your secret being at risk for exposure, you wouldn’t want everyone to find out YOU DON’T KNOW THAT YOU FATHER STOLE LETTERS BETWEEN YOU AND YOUR FIRST LOVE SO THAT YOU’D MARRY A WEALTHY MERCHANT INSTEAD

Fast Facts:

Name: Isolde Gretel Wettin Fultz

Age and Birthday: 31, March 16th

Status: Daughter of Duke August Wettin of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, Married to Frederick Fultz, merchant and fine arts dealer, mother of Gertie and Wilhelm

Faceclaim: Eleanor Tomlinson

Sexuality: Bisexual

Positives: Compassionate, Humble, Kind, hard-working, maternal

Negatives: People pleasing, reticent, covetous, passionate

Likes: Gardening, dancing, weaving, singing, nature, taking care of others

Dislikes: Bullying, violence, anger

As the only child of Duke August Wettin of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, Isolde was raised to be both the picture of a perfect lady as well as a capable mind; after all, woman or not, eventually the ruling of the duchy would fall to her. She studied a variety of subjects from languages to botany, poetry to math, weaving and dancing to geography. Isolde was a curious child and one that was eager to please her teachers and her father so she worked hard at her lessons and grew into a capable young lady who was always seeking knowledge. She was also lucky enough to grow up around the German court with the Hatzfelds as playmates and friends; her father was good friends with their father and the two could throw a party like the world had never seen, especially when they were together. However, the Duke had no royal name to trade on; when he began to run out of money, he had to find a financier and he found one by the name of Frederick Fultz who was a merchant and trader of fine art and luxury items from all over the world. The two created a friendship. August now had wealth and Frederick gained a foothold into the elite that money alone couldn't gain himself.

The German court was a home for all sorts and a visitation for others. It was there in the palace that Isolde met the one who would grow to encompass her every thought. Isolde had never thought about love. Of course, she had heard the stories and had imagined that one day, she would feel love's sting, but she could never have guessed how completely she would fall. Before long, she could hardly recognize herself as the cautious and reticent girl that she had been; in her place was a woman, confident in who she was. Their time together would be too short for either of them, in spite of how deeply they'd fallen, and he needed to return home. For months, they wrote back and forth, long letters full of longing. But suddenly, the letters stopped. Isolde kept writing, month after month, until over a year had gone by but to no avail. Eventually, she stopped writing, but her heart would not let him go. She would not know about the letters in the fireplace, both hers and his, nor the deal which had been made on her behalf, a marriage between her and the much older Frederick to bring him into the aristocracy and bring the Wettins above water for good. It took years of presents, flattery, and some subtle pushing from her father for Isolde to say yes to Frederick and then, she was married.

Children followed, a girl named Gertie first and then a boy named Wilhelm and, though Isolde loved her children, her heart would never give itself over to Frederick. For his part, he had expected to marry a more pliable woman, one who would mold her opinion to that of her husband; he had been informed that Isolde was educated, but had assumed that motherhood would sort her out. He had expected a glittering wife he could parade around court, but instead he found that she often wished to spend time reading, nursing those in the surrounding areas, and playing with their little ones. But then came news of the king's death and Isolde found herself drawn back to the German court before heading on to India. Now she hopes to stand beside her friends, the Hatzfelds in their time of need. She just didn't expect him to be there too, after all this time.

#theopulent.intro #isolde intro

[br1dg3rton]

The Art Of Falling In Love- Prologue❦︎

Dearest gentle reader,

If one were to describe the two gorgeous Anderson sisters, I would describe them as a pair of genius, loveable feminists.

For those men and women who struggle with even reading the word or not even being aware of the word feminist, a feminist is a woman who believes in equal rights for everyone, regardless of their gender. Being a feminist is about fighting for fairness and empowering individuals to be treated equally.

And these two sisters portray this perfectly.

The eldest Lady Eleanor Anderson who is a beautiful well-known artist. Her work is always as bold and revolutionary as she is! Creating powerful portraits that challenge the status quo of our society, depicting women in roles traditionally reserved for men or showcasing themes of independence and equality. But mainly her work is shared at the few bohemian party's she attends or much more private gatherings, which she has with the few gentlemen she meets at these parties, whom she has been spotted with in and outside of town but not in her old family home with maids and butlers or even her younger sister present! Some say she rents a small apartment under a false name just for her and the lucky gentleman she brings home.

But her more famous work is more accepted and praised in our ton and by me! Her landscape paintings, capturing the true beauty of the English countryside with a fresh and beautiful perspective.

Her younger sister Miss Scarlett is the complete opposite of her almost rake-ish like sister, Miss Scarlett is more of a gentle spirit almost angel like and rather quiet when seen and spoken to around. Always attached to her sister and standing behind her like a shadow, although it is known to this author that she wants to become a writer, I can imagine Miss Scarlett's passion for writing must be quite a challenge for her to navigate her dreams in a society that restricts women's ambitions. But with her sister by her side she will manage and this author has been told she is already writing her seventh novel!

Lady Eleanor Eliza Anderson, a blonde artist and feminist, exudes confidence and courage in her every brushstroke. Her art challenges societal norms and portrays themes of independence and equality, reflecting her progressive views. Alongside her stands Miss Scarlett Diana Anderson, a brunette dreamer with a passion for writing. Despite the constraints of her time, Miss Scarlett's determination and yearning for self-expression shine brightly. Together, these sisters embody strength, creativity, and resilience in the face of societal expectations. Their bond, forged through shared dreams and individual pursuits, weaves a captivating tale of artistry and aspiration and one can only wish them good luck in joining us for the season ahead.

Yours truly Lady Whistledown.

1813.

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #luke thompson #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton netflix #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #bridgerton fic #millie bobby brown #florence pugh #regency fic

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION “Reassessment” [ 4.09 ]♮PART 1, half 2

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Speaking of said mother and son, Charlie and Eleanor are out shopping as part of the errands Eleanor needs to run. They get distracted from their mission in the NYU neighborhood though when they just so happen to run into Riley outside one of her favorite campus eateries, grabbing lunch between classes and rehearsal.

This is probably Charlie’s one friend that Eleanor is happy to find by surprise. She can’t help but grin as she watches Riley give him an enthusiastic hug, then returns her cheerful greeting.

Eleanor: It’s nice to see you again. I wish we’d be seeing more of you around, now that Charlie is back from abroad. Riley: Oh, believe me, me too. I’m just so busy right now with school, and the musical. It’s a miracle I have time to think straight.

Not to mention the election she successfully organized for that candidate Eleanor dislikes so much, but they choose not to bring that up. Willful ignorance. Instead, she asks more about school. How is Riley liking NYU? While she has nothing but nice things to say about it, she changes tracks, shifting focus to Charlie instead.

Riley: I know Charlie just can’t wait to join us in academia. I tried real hard to convince him to apply to NYU -- Charlie: Okay, please… Eleanor: You did? Riley: But I don’t seem to have won on that front. It’s okay, though. He can’t get rid of me no matter how close or far he plants himself.

Riley gives him a playful side hug, then affectionately boops his jaw. Charlie laughs, brushing her off, but also shooting her a side-eye. Oh she is just milking this for all its worth… and Eleanor is eating up every last bite, failing to hide her utter delight at watching them interact.

Gaslighting aside, Riley is serious about one thing. She takes care to reiterate how nice it is to have Charlie back, but how proud all of them are of him for taking the leap and doing the gap year. Not only is it just plain cool, but it’s more than apparent how much good it did him and how much he’s growing. Riley can’t help but be happy for him, as well as confident he’s only going to continue to do so.

Riley: I can’t imagine how happy you must be. He really does make us all proud.

Eleanor considers that, the authentic admiration not laced with the usual subtle digs common in her social circles. She glances at Charlie, nodding along.

Eleanor: Yes. Yes, he certainly does.

Charlie smiles, then turns it on Riley, who returns it with a beam of her own.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - GARAGE - NIGHT

Zay is back to work in his garage, dutifully putting the finishing touches on his Turner audition. It’s come together, and he’s feeling good about it, so all there is left to do is run it into the ground until he gets it just right. Given his one-track mind mentality, should be a piece of cake.

Only… not quite. Because for as invested as he is, he finds himself constantly distracted. He keeps going back to his phone, absentmindedly clicking into his calendar app and emails.

Mainly to look at the details for his callbacks. The ones he must’ve followed up on after all, because he now has the time and date. Not that he’s actually going to go… but why not? Why shouldn’t he? It’s just like he told Yindra -- any practice is good practice, isn’t it?

It feels like a dangerous game to be splitting his attention before one of the biggest auditions of his life. In fact, in his head, he can’t deny he feels like he should be thinking about absolutely nothing else. The obsession should be natural; the ambition blinders should be intrinsic.

Yet here he is, contemplating even more opportunity instead. Just a passing instinct, maybe…

Yindra, pre-lap: I’m just not sure. I don’t know how to know if it’s the right next move.

INT. YINDRA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Yindra is in the living room, curled up on the couch in her pajamas. She’s talking through the girl group offer with Jade, who is similarly dressed and sitting on the floor while she works on a sewing project for Pinhead Threads.

Yindra: It’s just… not what I expected. I always had it in my head that my career would be a solo endeavor. It’s hard to reprogram that image, I guess. Jade: Sure, but there are tons of big name stars who started out in groups. It’s not a bad kickstarter. Destiny’s Child is one of your favorite artists, right? Look at Beyoncé. Yindra: No, I know. So everyone keeps telling me. I don’t think it’s a dead-end path by any means -- granted I even make the cut and join up in the first place. [ hesitant ] I just… don’t want to end up on the other side of the girl group spectrum.

That is to say, there’s only one Beyoncé. She doesn’t want to be a Michelle. Or Ally. Or Leigh Anne -- basically any member of a group who is only really still known by their original fans and never broke out into the stratosphere like their contemporaries on their own merit. She doesn’t want to make one choice and freeze her career forever in the shadow of someone else.

She doesn’t want to make the wrong first move.

Jade: I mean, could it really be the wrong one? You have a certified agent with credentials who believes in your ability, which is good. Yindra: Yes. Jade: And even if you don’t end up getting the group gig, it would be putting you in front of other execs and stuff, right? So it’s a fast track way to get your name in front of others. Yindra: True. Jade: I’m not saying it’s an obvious answer. You know I don’t know like, anything about the performing side of all this. So take what I’m saying with a grain of salt. Just, coming from a terrible first start opportunity myself, I still don’t necessarily think it was the wrong move to take it. Yindra: Really? Despite how awful Anya was? Jade: It wasn’t ideal, no, but I’m glad I did it anyway. Partially because of the experience, which was still useful, but also because it did a lot in showing me what I didn’t want. If I hadn’t had such a sour start with AK, I might not have ever been motivated enough to take the leap out here to Los Angeles when the chance popped up. I think sometimes you have to try a few things and discover what isn’t working for you before you figure out what exactly it is that does.

Wise words, and all too true. Yindra takes that point, nodding along.

Yindra: I guess it wouldn’t hurt to see what it’s all about. Do the audition run at least and see what happens.

Jade mirrors her nod, offering a smile. From the kitchen area, DARIUS AMINO pipes up.

Darius: See, it’s funny how when you say all that, she listens. Whereas if I had given her that exact same advice --

Yindra groans, rolling her eyes, while Jade cracks up.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

The next morning, Charlie and Eleanor swing by the apartment to grab a couple things before their adventures of the day. Based on her expression as she looks around, it’s the first time she’s seen the place since they moved him in at the start of the year.

Eleanor: This looks nice. It’s coming together well. Charlie: Thanks. Still kind of settling in, but it does what it needs to do.

Eleanor’s approval dims somewhat when Lucas enters from his room, dressed for a shift at Chubbies. Which is to say, in worn jeans and a Chubbies tee that has probably seen sharper days. Just as schlubby as ever… Charlie greets Lucas cheerfully like always, and Eleanor echoes it, though hers is laced with apprehension. Still, she’s good at faux politeness, as it’s basically her calling card…

Though Lucas sees right through her. He knows she thinks he’s demon spawn, so this chance interaction is more an opportunity for a laugh for him than anything else.

Eleanor: How are you? Lucas: Me? Oh, good as ever. I just got fired, so I’m back to whoring myself out to the capitalistic masses. Eleanor: Oh… dear. Lucas: It’s fine though -- bureaucracy wasn’t for me anyway. I’m thinking I can go bigger this time around. Word on the street is there might be some openings with the mob, and I think I could stand my ground as a bodyguard. I’m quick with a switch, at least, so.

He’s clearly joking, if you know him -- which Eleanor absolutely does not. She has to assume he is, but there’s just enough mystery there to wonder whether he’s serious… which only makes him more terrifying. Charlie gives Lucas a look, like really, to which he smiles innocently in response.

Lucas: But other than that, can’t complain. ‘Bout as good as it ever is.

Charming. Charlie rolls his eyes and claims he’s going to go grab the stuff they need, so he’ll just be a second. This leaves Eleanor temporarily alone, which she doesn’t seem thrilled with. But Lucas does her the favor of ignoring her, finishing up getting ready for his shift by gathering things into his ratty backpack.

Once she gets a look at it, something about it seems to catch Eleanor’s eye. She squints to get a better look.

Eleanor: Where did you get that? Lucas: [ surprised she’s speaking to him ] What? The backpack? It was like five bucks at Goodwill. Eleanor: No, the patch. That one on the front pocket.

Lucas frowns, taking a look for himself. It’s a nondescript sewn patch, featuring doodles of bread, fruit, and a logo of some kind that’s so faded it’s impossible to make out. Lucas shrugs.

Lucas: I don’t know. Pretty sure my mom gave it to me. When I was little. Don’t remember why. Eleanor: Oh… I see.

Eleanor’s tone has lost some of its nerves, but not necessarily for the better. In fact, it seems some of her smugness has returned, that patch for whatever reason reaffirming her sense of the world.

Lucas has no idea what she’s on about, or why she cares, and thankfully it doesn’t matter. Charlie returns in the next moment, offering a bright smile and asking if his mom is ready to head out. She agrees, saying an offhand goodbye to Lucas and wishing him the best of luck with his job prospects. She knows it can be tough out there for a guy like him.

Whatever the hell that means… Lucas nods and lets them go, choosing not to engage with whatever bizarre ego trip she seems to be on now. How someone like Charlie came from someone like her, he has no clue… as a catchy pop beat kicks up --

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

Maya is in the booth recording the vocal line for whatever track they’ve been given by the label. Based on the brief snippets we can get from her vocal line and the glimpses of the production demo, it sounds like your standard pop anthem. Although she’s serving like always, she doesn’t seem totally invested. She’s close to phoning it in, if there’s even a Maya equivalent to that.

Once they finish the take, Maya comments that maybe they should do another. She didn’t feel completely sold on that run. Justin leans over and clicks the mic.

Justin: Don’t worry. You sounded fire. Maya: I know. I always do. But I think it could’ve been better. Melissa: We don’t have much time in the studio. We need to have this track laid down for the shoot later this week. Maya: Okay. But I just think -- Engineer: Whatever needs tweaking, we can clean it up in post.

Maya looks especially displeased with that. If she can have it her way, she would rather deliver a natural killer take than have her vocals edited by some engineer who knows squat about carrying a tune. She takes a risk and pushes back.

Maya: Doesn’t this whole thing feel a bit rushed? I think if we’re trying to impress the label, then we might want to do this right.

The engineer releases a sigh.

Engineer: I thought that whole diva thing was a shtick for a song…

Okay. Bitch. Maya starts to get up in arms, but Melissa quickly intervenes to save face. She calls for a five minute break and steps into the studio to join Maya, signaling to Justin to cut the mics so that they can have some privacy. He does so, giving her a thumbs up.

Once it’s just one-on-one, Melissa asks Maya what’s up. She sounds great, so what is she worried about?

Melissa: And ignore Jake, he’s consistently an asshole. We only worked with him here because it was so short notice. Maya: Well, that’s kind of my point. Doesn’t this all feel so fast? I know I pulled “O.M.G.” together fast, and Josh and I put “LolliPop” together in a couple days. But it was our vision, we had complete creative control. This feels like rushing through something that someone else is dictating, and I don’t see how that’s going to make a good product. Melissa: Welcome to the business, babe. Wish it weren’t so. Maya: I just think -- no offense to the label, but I know for a fact some of the demos in my portfolio are better than this. We could make a way bigger splash with them, with something that has actual character. Isn’t there any chance we could --

So she’s still on this original material thing. Melissa nods along, understanding her instinct, but she shuts her down pretty swiftly. She gets that this isn’t the most ideal way to keep the machine rolling, but it’ll get them where they want to go. She just needs to keep looking good, singing great, and leave the finagling to them.

Melissa: But I tell you what, I will find some time on our calendars after we get this track wrapped up and ready to go to discuss your portfolio. Okay? Sound good?

Maya accepts that bone, placated for now. She claims she’s ready to get back to work, putting her headset back on. Melissa beams, patting her shoulder proudly and leaving the booth.

Maya: Just waiting on you, Jake. Ready when you are.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

Meanwhile, out in the office box, Josh is discussing his own client dilemmas. ROWAN PHELPS and BRIAN HARRIS are his audience, and based on their reactions, they share his reservations about the direction Floyd wants to go. Just far less tenderly.

Phelps: Josh, you cannot let that little dude release that cover as his first single. He will crash and burn so hard there won’t even be remains to recover. Josh: I know! I know that. Brian: Where is he getting his absolutely batshit confidence from? Because I need it. Phelps: You have to get him to release something else. Anything else. Because I’ve heard that cover of his, and I swear my ears were bleeding for days after. Josh: I know, all right. I’m aware. But I don’t want to disappoint him. He’s been patient with me, and he’s really excited about this. I want his first single drop to be a good experience. I don’t want to be an asshole or feel like I’m not supporting him.

As far as Brian can tell, that’s the obvious solution.

Brian: Drop him! There is no saving no talent. I would’ve dumped him ages ago. You stick with a sinking ship, you’re gonna get sunk. Phelps: You are the pinnacle of integrity, Bri, really. Brian: Look, call me an asshole, but y’all know I’m right. There’s no saving this one.

And that’s the tea. Josh doesn’t look happy with his take, and wants to disagree, but part of him worries there might be a degree of truth… Phelps rolls their eyes, closing off their conversation to just the two of them.

Phelps: He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. This industry gave the Kardashians a career, as well as Shawn Mendes. Talent is not a prerequisite.

Well, Shawn Mendes would be several steps up for Floyd’s voice, but that’s besides the point. But all of them are right that whatever he does, releasing the “Feelin’ Good” cover will be a death sentence for his barely started career. Not to mention it’ll embarrass the hell out of Josh’s fledgling producership.

Josh sighs, pulling his beanie over his eyes.

INT. REESE’S OFFICE - DAY

Yindra is back in Reese’s office, telling him that she’s decided she is interested in the girl group auditions. The least she can do is show up, feel it out, and see how things go. Reese is pleased with this, and thanks her for giving it a chance. He seriously does believe this could be a great opportunity for her.

Reese: I have to warn you, though, this audition process won’t be quite like anything else you’ve done before.

It’s not a one-and-done process. A group is all about chemistry, and balance, so she’s going to be doing a lot more vocal, dance, and interacting than she’s used to. It’s more like a marathon of standing out from the crowd, rather than a one-time-only show-off. Does she think she can do it?

Intimidating to say the least, but what does she have to lose? Yindra nods, inviting the challenge.

EXT. LOCAL FOOD BANK - DAY

Charlie and Eleanor make their way into a large, well-maintained building, already bustling with activity for the afternoon.

INT. LOCAL FOOD BANK - DAY

This volunteer organization is part food bank, part soup kitchen, but fully dedicated to helping those with less means keep from going hungry. On the wall just inside the entrance, their company brand is painted as a mural -- and suddenly, it looks way more familiar than before. Some doodles of bread and fruit, and a not-so-faded logo.

That explains how Eleanor recognized the patch… and the conclusions she drew from it. If Lucas got this from Grace, all those years ago, then there’s high likelihood the food bank has served Grace before. And in Eleanor’s world, if his mother was desperate enough to be coming to get their help, then much about the way he turned out makes complete sense.

She would never project those biases openly though, and you’d never think it with how she’s received at the bank. All of the employees and volunteers greet her cheerfully as they enter, as she’s a well-established regular at this point from the volunteer and charity side of things. She takes care to introduce Charlie to everyone, and they all take care to tell him just how vital his mother is to the community. It’s a wonder what they’d do without her!

Eleanor is definitely proud of this fact, based on her expression. And Charlie seems happy to hear it, happy to see how glad she is to be involved. It’s this kind of stuff that reminds him just how generous his mother can be, values he’s tried to emulate his entire life.

One of the organizers gestures for them to follow so they can give Charlie the brief tour, before they settle into the work of the day.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - DINING ROOM - DAY

At the same time, Sydney has set up a home base crisis management station at the MacNamara home. She’s dominated the dining room table, and currently, she’s walking Zachary through potential damage control plans they can implement in the coming days to get ahead of the story. They’re waiting for Leticia to arrive to really dig into the publicity side, but right now, Sydney is mainly concerned with schooling his reactions to protect them.

And it’s understandable why. She laments during their session how much crazier engagement has gotten, and not for the better. She is constantly fielding unsolicited inquiries from media companies to get Zachary on the record, and more than one nosy reporter is looking for an exclusive interview. Not to mention the insane fans -- her block button has been getting way more exercise than usual since the news broke. Zachary frowns.

Zachary: I’m sorry, Syd. I know this isn’t what you signed up for. Sydney: I mean, it kind of is. Comes with the territory. Zachary: I guess, but not to this degree. I’m sorry you’re roped into it too, that you have to field it all. I’ll pay you overtime, just tell me the hours -- Sydney: It’s fine. Seriously.

It’s annoying, but she’ll deal. She’s loyal to him, and anyway she can help, she will do it. Doesn’t mean she has to be happy about it, though…

Or necessarily graceful to the unintended perpetrators. She clams up, tenderness ebbing, when Isa enters the room. They were just stopping in to check how things were going before heading out to meet up with Farkle, but they sense the change in energy as soon as they walk in.

Isa: I didn’t mean to interrupt. Zachary: Oh, no. No, you’re fine.

Sydney doesn’t offer the same reassurance, back to battling the mania on her phone. Isa waits a moment, unsure how to address… everything, so they offer the bare minimum instead.

Isa: I’m going to meet up with my friend, Farkle. But I wanted to check if there was anything I could -- Sydney: He’s vetted, right? He’s not going to take advantage of this, is he? Isa: Farkle? No. [ shaking their head ] No, he’s cool. He would never hurt me -- or us. Like, he knows how much shit affected me with Val. He’s about as safe as it gets for me.

Sydney doesn’t seem convinced, but she’s suspicious of just about everyone at the moment. Zachary is less so, encouraging Isa to have fun. They’ll catch up when they’re back. Isa nods, awkwardly retreating from the conversation.

INT. NYU - THEATER - DAY

Lucas feels just about as awkward arriving at the NYU theater, carrying lunch from the bakery Riley likes. Although he’s no stranger to auditoriums, he knows he’s out of place in this one, especially with the frantic nature of dress rehearsals. Mostly, he just feels in the way.

And some folks won’t hesitate to tell him so. IMOGEN LEE catches him hovering in the wings, shooting him a dirty look and making her way over.

Imogen: What are you doing here? Lucas: Uh, I’m looking for Riley? Imogen: Yeah, no duh. I don’t know if your girlfriend told you, but this is a closed rehearsal. She can’t just invite friends along whenever she damn well pleases.

Okay, girl, this is college theater, not the Great White Way. Let’s calm down. Lucas doesn’t know how to respond, but he’s mercifully spared by Riley appearing at just the right time. She has no such reservations about him being there, greeting him joyfully but quietly purely out of respect for the actors rehearsing on stage at the moment.

Riley: I got it, thanks Imogen. Glad you made sure he didn’t get lost.

Sure, that’s what she was doing… Imogen rolls her eyes and backs off, leaving them alone. Riley gives Lucas a brisk kiss, claiming it’s so nice to see him.

Riley: It’s been a hectic morning. Dress rehearsal blues. And unlike when we were at Adams, I can’t just go climb up into the booth with you when I could use a break. Doesn’t it take you right back, being in the wings again? Don’t you miss it? Lucas: You want the truth?

Riley gives him a playful head tilt, nudging his arm. He informs her of the gifts he brought -- sustenance to keep her going -- and she is utterly grateful. How did he know this is exactly the pick-me-up she needed?

Lucas: [ with a shrug ] I was in the neighborhood. So.

Right. Just like always. EVAN SCOTT makes his exit from the stage and jogs into the wings, joining them and giving Lucas a friendly hello. It’s nice that he was able to sneak his way inside -- usually they’re pretty intense about closed rehearsals.

Lucas: Yeah, I got the memo. Riley: He was just playing the hero by bringing me lunch. [ holding up the bag ] If you thought Clucks was good, you ain’t seen nothing yet. I’ll have to share a bit of it with you during break so you can taste a real good lunch. Evan: Oh, you’re on. Be my guest.

Riley gets called onstage by the director, so that’s her cue. She gives Lucas another kiss on the cheek and tells him he can hang around as long as he likes. You know, so long as he doesn’t get caught.

Riley: But you’re good at keeping a low profile.

With that, she gives him a wink and then jogs towards the stage, joining back in on rehearsal. That leaves Evan and Lucas on their own, both hovering in the wings to watch as Riley gets into character and prepares to start working on a scene. After a beat, Evan takes the opportunity to chat, keeping their voices low as to not blow his cover.

Evan: She really is something else, you know. A real talent. And I don’t say that lightly. [ with a smile ] But I’m sure you know that already. Having gone to Adams for years with her. Lucas: I don’t know about that. [ off his eyebrow raise ] About knowing because of Adams. Obviously, Riley is… she’s, you know. All of that. I just wouldn’t say going there gave me any sense of how to tell the difference. Evan: … really? It’s a school for the arts. I have a hard time buying that you don’t have the chops if you went there for four years. Lucas: It’s a long story.

One that he is not getting into with a near stranger like Evan. Not that Evan is all that interested in the lore. He’s more focused on his lackluster response -- maybe he’s just shy, or doesn’t have a way with words, but Evan is somewhat put off by him. If Riley were his girlfriend, he thinks, he’d miss no opportunity to sing her praises to anyone who will listen.

On stage, Riley quickly glances to the wings and catches that they’re still standing there, and that he hasn’t left yet. She smiles lightly, blowing Lucas a secret kiss before turning back to the scene at hand. Playfully bending the rules just a bit, flaunting his closed rehearsal violation even if only the two of them know. 

Evan: Well, it’s nice that you’re still able to support her. She’s clearly glad you are. Lucas: Yeah. And I’m glad she’s got stuff like this. That other people recognize she’s good. It’s just… not my thing.

Anyone who knows the whole story, who knows Lucas, would get that. Get what he means. But Evan doesn’t, so to him, it just seems like aloof indifference. A diffidence towards the passions of someone he cares about -- someone he supposedly loves.

INT. LOCAL FOOD BANK - CAFETERIA - DAY

Meanwhile, different lunch business is happening over at the food bank. Volunteers of all shapes and sizes are working the hot lunch lines to dish out filling meals to those in need, hair nets and gloves on and conversation light as they chatter with the regulars and welcome new faces. The hall is already bustling with people, packed into the long tables and benches or taking their meals to go.

Eleanor and Charlie, however, aren’t working the front lines. They’re hanging out where Eleanor usually parks it during her volunteer hours, hanging back by the administrative side in a couple of decently comfortable lawn chairs. Immersed in the minutia of keeping the place running, surely, helping the volunteers and organizers, but an easy distance from the folks actually receiving the support.

This gap in connection doesn’t seem to even occur to Eleanor, who is happily in her element chatting with the higher-ups of the organization and helping iron out details from her polyester throne. No sense in messing up her well-kept hair with a net or making her old feet ache standing behind the food line…

Charlie is a different story. He’s seated like his mother, half-listening to their oh so important discussions, but his attention is consumed by the community around them. Taking in the scenery, watching the people come and go with curiosity and empathy. From the way he’s bouncing his leg, there’s a restless energy to being there -- like he’d much rather be on his feet doing something than standing there overseeing it all. Within the community, rather than outside it. But this is how his mom does it, and he’s supposed to be learning from and aiding her, so there he sits…

By happenstance, it doesn’t take long before something breaks the inertia and triggers him to act.

A single MOTHER is doing her best to keep control over her four young kids, having just gone through the lunch line and trying to find a table. But it’s crowded, and the pace to find space for all of them is slow-going, and trying to keep four hungry kids tame is like wrangling cats. So it’s far from surprising when something goes amiss, one of the younger girls failing to balance her loaded plate and keep up with her siblings.

It falls to the floor with a splat, causing the DAUGHTER to shriek and burst into tears. The mother, already overwhelmed, immediately hushes her and tries to keep her calm, but it’s difficult while keeping the others in check and not being in the way of others. They’ve already earned some irritated glares, and they’re in the way of the flow of traffic with the mess on the floor, and now they’re down a plate. The mom isn’t just frustrated, she’s embarrassed too, and already on short patience.

There isn’t much of a push to come to her aid, either -- the food line volunteers are all busy with their current patrons, and the administrators over in Eleanor’s corner don’t seem keen to rush over. They watch with sympathy, of course -- “poor thing” -- but someone else’s mess and unruly children aren’t their problem. The food they spilled is courtesy enough.

Except for Charlie. When he witnesses this unfortunate accident, he doesn’t hesitate. Before Eleanor can suggest otherwise, he’s out of his chair and crossing the cafeteria.

Eleanor: Charlie, wait --

He grabs some paper towels on the way and swoops down to help scoop up the mess, calmly assuring the girl and her mom that it’s okay.

The mother seems genuinely surprised he came over to help. Now that attention is on them, the other kids have gone quiet, watching Charlie interact with their mom.

Mother: I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Charlie: Please, it’s okay. Not a problem. It happens. Mother: I should’ve paid more attention to -- and you don’t have to clean that up. I’m sorry -- Charlie: Ma’am, I promise, it’s okay. No worries at all.

Well, if he says so… the little girl has stopped crying, too shy for tears. Charlie kindly turns his gaze to her, offering a light smile.

Charlie: You lost your balance a little there? Daughter: … yes. Charlie: I get it. I’ve definitely done the same before. I’m a dancer, but if I’m not doing choreography, I’m a total klutz. Daughter: I like dancing too. Charlie: You do? Nice. You’ve probably got better balance than me.

Tension broken somewhat, Charlie offers to help by making sure the daughter gets a fresh plate of food. The mother claims he’s already done enough, sheepish, but he insists. If she’d rather go with her, he’s more than happy to help her kids find a table and keep an eye on them.

They strike a compromise, Charlie agreeing to take the little girl for food while the mom finds a seat. He also tells her that they can swing by the toy drive table while they walk and see if they can pick something out for her and her siblings. The mother is genuinely relieved for a second to breathe, thanking Charlie profusely which he waves off with a shrug.

Charlie: Of course. We’re here to help.

And he’s a natural at it. At the same time, Eleanor’s corner of the room seems less certain -- some are endeared by Charlie’s involvement, while others (including Eleanor herself) seem slightly uncomfortable with the wall between their worlds being breached so casually.

Still, can count on the church lady crowd to find one silver lining.

Admin: He is so good with kids. Oh, you’re going to be such a lucky grandmother once he finds his wife!

Yeah, we’ll see about that. Dream on, though.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

Maya gets up from the kitchen table where she’s working on lyrics when there’s a knock at the door. She’s slightly stunned to find Isa waiting on the other side -- and they’re equally as unprepared to see her.

Maya: … hi. Isa: Hi. [ a beat ] Uh, I’m here to see Farkle?

Oh, right. Duh. Silly to think they could’ve been there for her… Maya nods, stepping back and allowing Isa into the apartment. There’s an awkward beat, neither of them quite sure how to act around one another.

Maya: He’s not here right now. In case that wasn’t obvious. I mean, he should be home soon. Probably. But you never know with him these days. Isa: Okay. Cool. Thanks. [ a beat ] Rehearsal, I’m guessing? Maya: If only. At least that commitment is predictable and consistent. [ with a sigh ] No, he’s probably with --

Jordan. Yeah. She doesn’t even have to finish the sentence. Isa understands. Definitely not what you want to hear when you came all the way over here.

Isa: Oh. Yeah, okay. Maya: Sorry. You can text him. Isa: Guess I will. Thanks.

Isa pauses, thinking they should go… but then they release a huff, crossing their arms.

Isa: Sorry, but am I a bitch for thinking he could’ve at least texted me? I get changing plans -- I mean, actually I don’t if it’s for your lame significant other, but -- Maya: Oh, babe, do not even get me started. I’m on your side. If you’re going to ghost someone, it should at least be for good reason. Not for hanging around with… with… Isa: The human equivalent of a watered-down Americano.

Maya cracks up, nodding along. Yes, that’s exactly it! Isa can’t help but grin as Maya commiserates, the two of them releasing their pent up disdain for Jordan while Farkle isn’t around. For an instant, it’s almost like they’re back to normal, rapport easy and bouncing off another with natural fervor.

But shared resentment can’t rebuild a bridge on its own. And they’re disrupted anyway when Isa gets a text, dimming their back and forth and letting the awkwardness back in. Isa clears their throat.

Isa: It’s Farkle. He got caught up, so he’s gonna meet me at the restaurant. Maya: Oh. Good. Isa: Yeah… better than nothing, I guess.

Maya does her best to hide her disappointment. With that, suppose Isa better go… or whatever… they start to head for the door, but before they can step out, Maya pipes up.

Maya: Izzy. Isa. I’m sorry about what’s going with the media. They don’t know shit.

Isa is surprised Maya is keeping up with it. That they even seem to care. Not that they ever gave an impression otherwise… suppose it wasn’t Maya who burned them down. Even if her actions made it feel warranted.

It’s strange, to know someone still cares -- to still care yourself -- but not have any idea what to do with it. To have no clue what happens next. For now, Isa nods.

Isa: Thanks. [ a beat ] See you.

Maya lets them go, not asking for more. Placating herself with the knowledge that she said her piece.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - DAY

Isa closes the door behind them, hanging on the doorstep for a moment longer. Part of them wanting to go back and try to make sense of this, iron the whole thing out… but ultimately going on their way, leaving the door closed.

But the confusion follows, not letting itself be forgotten so easily. As the echoey backing track eases in…

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Tell Me How” as performed by Paramore || Performed by Isa De La Cruz & Maya Hart

Maya takes the first verse of this melancholic ballad, contemplative. She moves towards the window to look down on the street, spotting Isa as they emerge from the building.

I know you think that I erased you You may hate me, but I can't hate you

And she can’t replace them. No matter how easy Isa might think it is for her to do.

Do I suffocate or let go?

EXT. LOS ANGELES STREETS - DAY

Isa is asking the same question, picking up the second verse as they make their way down the sidewalk. 

Think I'm tired of getting over it And just starting something new again I'm getting sick of the beginnings

If they’re honest, in their heart, they miss her. They miss that sense of camaraderie, one boss bitch to another. They miss challenging each other, collaborating, picking on Farkle together. But how good could that have all been if it was so easy for Maya to toss aside?

Even so, the ache of that has lessened in the time since. It hurt, and still does, but Maya explained her side. She made her case. It was a mistake, a thoughtless wound. Isa can buy that -- Maya has never been the queen of consideration -- and the resentment that used to burn in their chest has long since simmered.

But they can’t just go back to before. The question is, if they’re not friends, but they're not angry anymore, then what are they? What’s left?

Why can’t someone just tell them how to be?

The two continue to pass vocals back and forth on the chorus, parlaying into the piano interlude. On the bridge, they not only harmonize but also echo one another, circling each other musically but never quite syncing up. Never getting onto the same page.

That is, until they join together on the “oh” just before the 3-minute mark. Then they sing together through the final rendition of the chorus, sharing a split-screen, before begging the universe for the same sign as to how to move forward. The same plea asked in the midst of many a friendship break-up -- the prayer that never has a straightforward answer.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

Maya takes the last outro lines, choosing to believe there’s a positive version of them somewhere safe in the fog of Isa’s memory.

EXT. LOS ANGELES STREETS - DAY

And it’s those memories that make it so hard to let go. Isa turns away and continues their walk alone down the block, stuffing their hands in their pocket as the song peters out.

INT. NYU - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Vanessa and Nigel are taking a lunch break, seated on the studio floor. It seems they’ve already done a decent amount of foundational work, given Nigel’s sweat. Vanessa is optimistic though -- she doesn’t see him as a hopeless case. He’ll be able to pass, with a bit more practice.

Vanessa: At this rate, who knows? You may even be able to snag a B. Nigel: Passing is all I care about right now. I should’ve taken this pass/fail, but I was so zoned out during course selection I neglected to consider the possibility that my professor for intro to dance would be off his rocker.

Vanessa snorts. Speaking of insane dance, Nigel politely asks how Vanessa’s audition prep is going for the Turner transfer. He knows Zay has been pretty wrapped up in it, so she must be the same.

Vanessa: Is he really? Wasn’t sure I would’ve guessed that, considering he’s flitting off to other auditions left and right. Nigel: Yeah. Haven’t you guys talked about it?

No, Nigel. They’re not doing that right now. Like totally normal couples. Vanessa avoids answering the question, not wanting to get into it and answering with a shrug instead. Nigel doesn’t mind, addressing her original point.

Nigel: Anyway, I wouldn’t read too much into Zay’s choices. He’s always doing weird stuff like that. What you’ll come to realize after being friends with him for long enough is that he will always, always be doing more than you. Working harder. Probably better. Vanessa: I disagree on principle, but… Nigel: I don’t mean that in a mean way. Or even bitterly. It’s just fact. It used to bother me, when we were younger, but after a certain point it just became part of the deal. Like, okay, Zay is Zay. He’s a badass, and he has no mode other than 100, and he will always be two steps ahead. I had to decide if I could handle that, if I could turn off the constant comparison in my head and just take him as he is. I did, and I’m glad I did, but he’ll always have his quirks.

That last part, she’d already figured out on her own. Vanessa thinks for a moment, debating whether she wants to say anything…

Vanessa: It just doesn’t make sense to me. Going on these auditions when we have the biggest one of our year right around the corner. It’s not like he’s going to be able to do both. He has to know that. Nigel: Oh, for sure. He probably just thinks of it as like, I don’t know. Practice. Vanessa: I can’t fathom splitting my attention like that. If this is my one shot to get what I want, like… why would I ever risk throwing my eggs into different baskets? Especially ones I would never actually do? Nigel: I mean, maybe he would? Consider them, I mean. Zay has this endearing but infuriating quality where he goes for things just for the hell of it, like “practice” or whatever, or just to prove he can do it. And then, naturally, he ends up getting the offers. I’m not saying he does it intentionally -- I genuinely think that for all his attitude and confidence, he doesn’t realize how good he is. Like, how far his charisma and grind culture takes him. He wouldn’t admit it, but I think he surprises even himself half the time. Vanessa: Then why is he trying to get into Turner? If he has all these other options? [ frustrated ] Unlike him, some of us don’t have endless paths laid out in front of us. Nigel: Hey, like I said. I get the frustration. Being his friend is a blessing and a curse. And I’m not gonna act like I can make sense of his diva mind. [ after a beat ] I just feel like sometimes, Zay… so the big thing about him is that he’s stubborn. Like, he is the most obstinate person I’ve ever met -- and I went to Adams with a lot of divas. He’s not as flamboyant as some of our other classmates, but Jesus, when he puts his mind to something he is relentless. When he gets an idea in his head of how something is supposed to be, how he thinks he wants it, it’s damn near impossible to get him to change his mind. Vanessa: Cute. Nigel: Somehow, he still is. Yes. But sometimes I think it hurts him more than it helps him. ‘Cause like… [ searching for the words ] He’ll get this idea in his head that one way is the way things have to be. The path he’s meant to take, the reasonable thing to do. Maybe in this case that’s Turner; maybe it’s taking every single audition possible even if he’s never gonna go for it. But he internalizes this idea of how he’s supposed to do it, to have his best shot, and then he traps himself in that mindset. Even if he knows it’s not working, or isn’t making him happy. Honestly, watching him last year felt like that, the way he ground himself down until he literally hurt himself so bad it was the only way to slow him down. He’s brilliant, but like all greats, he’s kind of his own worst enemy at the same time. [ with a shrug ] I don’t know if that helps at all, make sense of your freak boyfriend, but that’s just my take after knowing him for five years.

It actually does help, at least a little. Vanessa and Zay may be similar in some ways, but there’s enough difference between them to create mystery that feels infuriating. It’s nice to have the perspective of someone who’s known him for longer, who can provide larger context to the character that is Zay Babineaux. 

Especially since she’s not talking to him herself. After absorbing that intel, Vanessa suggests they get back to work, climbing to her feet and offering her hands to help Nigel back up.

INT. LOCAL FOOD BANK - CAFETERIA - DAY

Charlie has put himself to use now, still hanging out with that woman’s kids and helping keep them entertained. It appears that in the time he’s been there, he’s totally won over the youngest of the bunch, both of them eagerly talking to him and showing off the toys they picked out from the giveaway. Charlie engages with them effortlessly, encouraging their chatter and listening with an easy smile on his face. Completely in his element.

Eleanor is watching from her safe distance, not sure how she feels about having lost him to the sea of less fortunate. She’s even more apprehensive when the woman he helped actually approaches her, timidly asking if she knows Charlie.

Eleanor: Oh, um, yes. He’s my son. Woman: I thought so. You look alike. [ shy, but sincere ] He’s wonderful with kids. He’s been a huge help today. Eleanor: That’s good. I’m glad we could help. Woman: It’s the most help I’ve gotten here in a while. You must be very proud.

Yes… yes, she should. Eleanor nods, accepting the compliment, but she still appears quite uncomfortable with actually interacting with one of the people needy enough to seek their oh so generous charity.

INT. USC - THEATER - DAY

A pick-up rehearsal for The Last Five Years is wrapping up, the director IRENE KAPLAN talking them through some brief notes.

Farkle is hardly paying attention. He’s continuously distracted by his phone, currently in the midst of a rapid fire exchange with Jordan. But it’s not the kind of rapport he wants -- Jordan has hinted he may need to change his plans with their little dinner he planned, and Farkle is doing everything he can to convince him not to cancel. He’s practically begging in text format, whereas Jordan’s responses seem noncommittal and unbothered.

How can he seem so unconcerned, when Farkle feels like he’s holding his world together with a safety pin? When this feels like the end of the world?

Irene doesn’t miss his lack of engagement. Once she finishes notes and dismisses everyone, commending them for a great first handful of shows, she specifically requests that Farkle hang back to chat. He does so, managing to put his phone away for that long even though the thought of missing his chance to win Jordan over makes him itch.

Although she’s not unkind, Irene doesn’t beat around the bush. She points out that Farkle has seemed distracted as of late, and he’s been late to more than one call time in the last week. He’s a freshman, so she’s not expecting him to be the pinnacle of professionalism, but there comes a point where she needs to draw attention to it.

Farkle is genuinely regretful, launching into apologies and promising he’ll be better about it. In fact, despite the reassurance, his hasty groveling is almost too strong a reaction for the critiques she was giving him. It makes her more concerned than before -- enough to ask if there’s anything going on that he’d like to tell her about.

Farkle blinks.

Farkle: No? Irene: I’m just checking. I want you to know if there’s something going on, you should feel more than comfortable telling me. Both from a production standpoint, but also because I want you to feel supported. If there’s anything I can do to help with that, please let me know.

It’s a sweet sentiment -- one you like to see from a director and professor -- but Farkle just seems confused. He isn’t sure why Irene feels the need to say something like this. It’s not like he’s pulling his hair out again or contemplating popping some pills.

Farkle: Believe me, ma’am, I’ve been in much deeper trenches.

That’s not the cheerful reassurance you think it is, Farkle. Irene raises an eyebrow, but she figures it’s not worth digging deeper if he doesn’t want to talk. She just reiterates her support and reminds him of the call time for that weekend’s show, then lets him go.

He immediately pulls back out his phone as he descends the steps of the stage, awash in relief when he sees Jordan hasn’t cancelled. They’re still on.

He hasn’t totally lost him yet. That’s all that matters.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - GUEST ROOM - DAY

Isa waits impatiently for a reply from Eric. They messaged him asking if he was free to talk, but they know he might not get the chance until later in the evening -- that is, if AAA was nearly half as dramatic as it was when they were there. 

Instead of a text, Isa’s phone lights up with a call, a picture of Eric and Isa smiling together filling the screen. Relieved, Isa picks up immediately.

After the obligatory greetings, they get into the true reason why they’re calling.

Eric: How are you dealing with the press? Do they know who tipped them off? Do we need to get lawyers involved? I think I still have the number of a lawyer Val recommended if anything like this happened -- Isa: Whoa, okay, slow down. One question at a time.  Eric: Right. Sorry. How are you? 

Isa takes a deep breath. What a question to start with.

Isa: I’m… okay. I guess. A bit stressed. And… Eric: [ off their hesitation ] And…? Isa: I feel like I’ve ruined everything with the MacNamaras. 

It all comes tumbling out. How anxious everyone has been since the paparazzi incident, how upset Milo got, how much Louis and Sydney seem to hate them. It just feels like everything is going wrong, and it’s bound to crash and burn at any moment. They knew it was going too well; something like this was bound to happen. 

Eric: This isn’t your fault, Isa. You’ve done nothing wrong. You shouldn’t be feeling guilt or taking all of the blame.  Isa: I know, I know. Ruby and Zachary don’t seem to blame me, but I can’t help but feel like I’ve blown up their lives. Everything was fine before I showed up. [ with a sigh ] I should probably talk to Ruby about all of this, right?

Eric supports this notion. Communication is always the best solution, and it seems like Isa has had luck connecting with Ruby before. It’s like they don’t even need his training wheels of emotional support anymore! Isa rolls their eyes, but they smile just a bit.

Eric: I have to confess, this is an odd situation for me. I’d love to be able to help you through it, but because I’m removed from it all, not there with you, there’s not much I can do. I can’t do anything other than listen. But it seems like you’ve thought through what to do next, and I have nothing but confidence that you’ll figure out the best solution.  Isa: Thanks.  Eric: I’m always one message or call away. Don’t hesitate. And let me know how it goes with Ruby. 

Eric’s faith in them gives Isa a boost of confidence.

INT. MACNAMARA HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY

Ruby is set up at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, with a laptop and various pieces of paper spread out on the surface in front of her. She’s currently on the phone, brows furrowed deeply and lips pressed together in concern. On the open laptop screen is an email from the church, saying how concerned they are over the situation and asking the family to refrain from attending service until it all dies down -- for the security and privacy of other members. It’s a known hot spot for Christian celebrities, after all, and they’ve been fortunate to avoid such attention from the press until now. 

On the phone, things seem to be going about just as well. 

Ruby, frustrated: Why is it my responsibility to get rid of paparazzi on your property? We chose this school because you promised privacy for the boys, so why am I getting the blame when you’re unable to provide that? 

As the person on the other end talks, Ruby only gets more worked up. 

Ruby: Isn’t it your duty to deal with situations like this within the school? Louis said that his classmates are pestering him with questions all day about it, so it’s not just the press, but their peers, too --

She gets cut off. After listening to what the other person has to say, Ruby insists that she and Zachary are talking to lawyers and trying to get on top of the issue, but that she would appreciate it if her children could attend school as usual and not have another part of their lives disrupted. In response, she gets asked if she would mind waiting on hold while they get another member of staff.

Ruby huffs, irritated but holding herself back from expressing exactly what she thinks.

Ruby: Yes, I’ll wait. Thank you. [ once the hold music starts ] God help us now…

INT. MACNAMARA HOUSE - DAY

Isa comes down the stairs and wanders around downstairs, searching for any sign of life. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around, so it’s a relief when they stumble across Ruby in the kitchen. 

INT. MACNAMARA HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY

From the angle that Isa’s at, they can’t see that Ruby is on the phone, only that she has her laptop and seems to be deep in thought. They approach quietly, trying their best to remain as confident as they were moments ago. 

Isa: Ruby, could we talk a bit about -- ? Ruby, snapping: [ turning in her seat and pointing to the phone ] Can you not see I’m busy?

Oop. Yikes. Both of them blink at each other, stunned silent. Isa at the harsh response, and Ruby at the realization of who she just snapped at.

Her expression immediately softens as she rushes out an apology, but just then her phone call picks back up, so she has to turn her attention back to that. Ruby mouths another sorry to Isa, but clearly isn’t available to talk. 

Still shocked, Isa numbly turns and leaves the room. So much for not having earned Ruby’s ire as well.

As the thumping, hypnotic bass floats in…

INT. VIDEO SHOOT STUDIO - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ Maya’s Original Song, “Haute Stuff” || Similar to “Blow Your Mind (Mwah)” as performed by Dua Lipa || Performed by Maya Hart

We finally get a fuller picture of the track Maya has been working on with Justin and Melissa, watching as she films parts of the music video for the song. The number is captured from different angles as the shoot progresses, both from the perspective of Maya running through it and the cameras capturing it that’ll make it to the editing room someday soon. It’s sassy, catchy, bombastic and clever, a perfect compliment to “On My Grind (O.M.G.),” and Maya delivers it expertly. It’s perfectly in her wheelhouse, and she never fails to slay.

But it doesn’t sound quite right. It’s a bop, no doubt, but it doesn’t sound like her. The lines are clever, but they lack her signature style; she looks incredible, but her movements are just a hair more stiff, more of an act than a reflection of her actual flair. It’s strength, being like her breakout hit, may also be its biggest weakness -- you could argue it’s pretty derivative of everything else she’s done so far.

At the conclusion of one of the choruses, she looks towards the camera and blows us a kiss, then offers a cheeky little wink.

Then the director calls cut, halting the pop cocktail as they reset for another angle. Maya takes the opportunity to scan the set until she finds who she’s looking for, jogging over to Justin. For any reservations she might have, he appears to have none -- he’s more than enjoying her performance, thrilled with how its turning out.

Justin: This is number one material. Don’t you feel that? This one is gonna drop majorly -- especially on Tik Tok.  Maya: Right, sure. It’s a fun track. [ a beat ] I’m just wondering if it’s not a bit… repetitive? Like, the video isn’t all that different from --

Justin humors her concern, but he brushes it off pretty easily. He doesn’t see why she’s stressing -- they’re standing on a gold mine right now.

Justin: Girlie, you sound incredible. You hit all the right moves here. Not to mention, you look absolutely banging.

For better or worse, that is a big criteria in success in most cases. Justin makes a point of adjusting her appearance as he says so, tweaking the hem of her mini-skirt and fluffing her money-making blonde hair. Maya doesn’t think anything of it, used to the nitpicks of a production. She still isn’t convinced about the song, but Justin encourages her to drop it and just roll with it.

Justin: Hey, just get through the shoot, and then bam, this project will be basically ready to go. We’ll have a banger on our hands, locked and loaded, and then we can start to focus on other stuff. Melissa set that dinner for us to chat about the EP, yeah? Shift your focus to that. Maya: [ brightening at that ] Right. Totally. Have you had the chance to listen to the demos I -- ?

They’re interrupted when the A.D. calls for Maya to get back in places. Justin gives her a wink, reminding her to knock ‘em dead and make them proud. Maya smiles, accepting his guidance and reenergized with the potential of what’s around the corner.

Justin gives her a proud pat on the head and then sends her on her way back in front of the cameras.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - HALLWAY - DAY

Zay is on the phone with Yindra, hyping her up before her girl group audition blitz. He has no doubt that she can pull it off, and they’re insane if they don’t consider her good enough -- though whether she wants to take the offer will be another story.

Zay: Look, just think of it like Adams. Go in there, smoke those other bitches out of the water, and take no fucking prisoners. Yindra: There were like seven mixed metaphors in that pep talk, but I get what you’re going for. Zay: Save your smartass for the competition. But you’ve got this. Just show them real Yindra Amino. That’s all it takes.

Yindra thanks him, stating she’ll give it the best she’s got. Zay is about to say something else, but a sound from the end of the hall catches his attention. Someone is playing piano in the practice room, singing along lightly as they try to sound out a phrase…

And it sounds weirdly familiar. Confusingly, hauntingly familiar. Zay frowns.

Zay: Hey, I gotta go. Call me after the insanity.

He hangs up without further comment, following the mysterious siren song towards the end of the hall. As he approaches the practice studio in the corner, the voice becomes clearer -- and oddly enough, more familiar to us, too.

Apprehensive, Zay edges towards the doorway.

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY

No, his mind isn’t playing tricks on him. His well-trained ears aren’t deceiving him. Charlie is at Turner, in this practice studio. He’s seated at the piano as if it’s completely ordinary, sheet music in front of him. He doesn’t appear to be focused on it, though, half-improving through piano riffs instead to loosen up. He’s lightly singing along here and there, more like humming occasionally, warming up his voice.

Zay stares for a long moment, transfixed… because it’s so unexpected, obviously. Once he shakes off the surprise, he braves stepping into the room, announcing his presence.

Zay: You know, I could be mistaken --

Charlie jumps slightly, not expecting company. But when he lifts his head and sees who it is, the smile that blooms across his face is instantaneous.

Zay: So correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m like… ninety-nine point nine-nine-nine-nine percent sure you don’t go to this school. Unless you transferred out of nowhere without telling me, which 1) would be fucking rude, and 2) would be a miracle considering the hell I’m going through to transfer. Or, you’re not actually here and I’m having a serious hallucination right now, in which case I should call my doctor to confirm I’m not certified crazy.

Charlie laughs, shaking his head.

Charlie: No, no, you’re right. Not a student here, and not a hallucination, far as I’m aware. So you’re not crazy -- well, not because of that, at least. Zay, mocking: Oh, ha ha ha ha. So funny.

Charlie grins, enjoying the chance to rib him. It’s not usually so easy. Zay has made it across the room now, joining him and standing on the opposite side of the piano. Now that they’ve confirmed he’s really there, it does beg the question: why exactly is he there?

Charlie: I’ve got my college auditions this week, so I’m polishing up the pieces I want to do. I’d been practicing at home before, but suffice to say doing actual focused, quiet rehearsal in that house is like… basically impossible -- Zay: Given your seven-hundred siblings, yeah, that tracks. Charlie: So I was looking for a more dedicated space to practice. Lucky me, I happened to run into Nigel and Vanessa when they were out, and it came up, and Vanessa was nice enough to offer to book me a space here. So I happily took it.

Zay doesn’t know where to begin with that statement. Nigel and Vanessa are hanging out? Vanessa and Charlie are talking when he’s not there? God, you stop talking to your girlfriend for one week… Zay lightly shakes his head, trying to mentally catch up.

Zay: Oh. You know you could’ve asked me? I would’ve done it too. Charlie: Yeah, of course. But you know, you’re so busy, you’ve got your own stuff going on. I wouldn’t want to bother you. And honestly, I don’t think I even would’ve thought of the idea if Vanessa didn’t offer it. I owe her big time.

Even though it shouldn’t be so strange to Zay, considering how he’s worked hard to interweave Vanessa into his social circles, the concept of her and Charlie interacting so casually is just something his brain can’t seem to comprehend. So he moves past it, asking instead how Charlie’s actual practice is going. What’s he doing for his auditions?

Charlie doesn’t hesitate to discuss it, absentmindedly continuing to lightly play the piano while they chat.

Charlie: Well, it’s not as intense as most musical auditions, since I’m not like, trying to get into the performing programs, so I have a little more flexibility. Don’t need to do traditional Broadway or anything, but I still want to do something where I’m my own accompaniment so I can show different parts of my skill set. Hence, the piano, though I haven’t ruled out guitar yet either. I’ve kind of got a couple of songs on deck, so I can kind of feel it out day of and see what feels right. Zay: Wow. So devil-may-care of you. Not very Gardner-esque. Charlie: Yeah, well, like I said. These stakes are pretty nonexistent.

Still, he wants to make a good impression. Zay glances down at his hands, which are still instinctively playing the keys, pointing out that his ability to play more than one instrument is probably already more impressive than most of the music minors they get auditioning at this level. Though, in his opinion, he still thinks Charlie could easily go for a major if he wanted.

Charlie: Thanks. But this’ll do for now. I’m not asking for too much. Zay: Yeah, and that’s why I’m saying you don’t need to give too much either. [ nodding to the keys ] I mean, you’re basically playing with your eyes closed. If you insist on showing off like that, surely they won’t be able to say no. Charlie: What? Showing off? [ playing a more complicated riff ] Whatever do you mean? Zay: Okay, nerd, not all of us are virtuosos. Let’s not get smug. Charlie: I don’t -- [ not breaking eye contact ] I don’t know what you mean? [ with a shrug; playing an even more complex bit ] I’m just playing around -- Zay: All right, all right, that’s enough, Chopin. We get it, you play the piano. Columbia should be falling to their knees begging you to join up.

Charlie breaks into a beam, then dips his head back down to the keys. Zay can’t help but smile, but he reels it in quickly enough to maintain his faux disdain.

Charlie: Anyway, like I said, it’s not that serious, but I still want to do something good. Something that like… you know, feels representative but still like me, without getting all in my head about it. Zay: That’s good. I’d say going for it at all is an improvement. Charlie: I’d say gee thanks, but I know you’re right. That’s kind of the point. ‘Cause I’m trying this new thing where I don’t automatically discount myself or take myself out of the running for things I have interest in just because I don’t think I’m good enough.

Zay gasps, offering a smattering of applause. Charlie bows his head slightly, accepting the teasing praise.

Zay: Wow. That’s incredible. That’s like, groundbreaking stuff right there. Charlie: Thank you, thank you. Zay: That’s so crazy. It’s almost as if someone has been suggesting that for a while. Giving the best advice and shit. Like they’ve always known. You know, someone really smart, and cool, and sexy -- Charlie: [ with a roll of his eyes ] You about done? Zay: Never.

Charlie’s turn to not be able to hold back a smile. But it’s true, Zay’s been saying all that since the start! Even so, Charlie had to get there on his own for it to mean anything.

And now he has, so it’ll be interesting to see where he decides to go with it. Zay asks as much, nodding to the sheet music and asking what he’s working on for the audition beyond cheeky show-off piano riffs. Charlie claims this the more pop-adjacent tunes he’s polishing, adjusting the papers on the piano.

Charlie: It might be a bit too contemporary for the auditions, but I like the song, so I figured I’d hash it out anyway and decide later. I’m still figuring out some of the key changes, but -- well, actually, would you mind listening to it and telling me what you think? I’d love your opinion. But you know, only if you have time. I don’t wanna impose.

Considering he’s torn between drilling his own transfer audition into dust and running off to do some ill-advised shotgun callbacks for productions he’d never actually get to do, and thus moving on neither of them, yeah, Zay has a second or two to spare. Plus Charlie’s a friend looking for feedback, and Zay rarely passes up a chance to offer his opinion on the craft.

Not to mention, it’s been ages since he heard Charlie perform. Perform like this, unpolished and intimate, rather than at his shining best for his church. Passing up the invitation almost feels blasphemous.

So he shrugs, noncommittal.

Zay: I’ve got a few minutes.

Charlie smiles, grateful. He clears his throat and adjusts the sheet music once more, reminding Zay that he’s still refining and admittedly, he’s a bit rusty. Zay waves off his commentary and tells him not to preface. Let the performance speak for itself.

After a beat, Charlie nods, looking back down at the keys. He takes a breath, centering himself.

Then, he starts to play.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dream No More (Acoustic)” as performed by Ruel & Genesis Owusu || Performed by Charlie Gardner & Zay Babineaux (starting at 00:30)

Charlie’s fingers are delicate on the piano, soft to start as he gets a feel for performing again. It’s different to practice on your own versus with an audience of one -- let alone when that audience is Zay Babineaux. He values his opinion, but he hasn’t stopped being an intimidating presence since they were freshmen at Adams, so the stakes almost feel higher here than they will at the colleges later in the week. So he keeps his head down and his eyes on the music.

He shouldn’t have worried. Zay isn’t going to criticize him. It’s disarming enough just to hear him sing again; to be close enough and trusted enough to be allowed to hear it. It’s kind of mesmerizing, Charlie’s unassuming baritone warm and familiar.

It’s magnetic, in its way, pulling Zay in his direction. He slowly makes his way around the piano and comes to join Charlie on the other side, gingerly settling onto the bench next to him. He watches Charlie for a moment, gliding through the first chorus, hands skillfully dancing along the keys… then his gaze drifts to the sheet music.

Zay drops his reservations and starts to sing.

Said I stripped your love from a mile away Your emotion slides from the palace stays Your defense is gone

Zay picks up the second verse, finding his footing with a bit of improv. Charlie has no complaints about the intrusion. He glances at him out of the corner of his eye, smiling creeping onto his face, and then finds the harmony to jump back in with him.

You shoot your shot love I shot my shot love But we both ended some bullet wounds

Like magnets clicking into place, the duet dissipates any lingering uncertainty. It breathes new life into Charlie’s approach, and Zay brings an undeniable energy. Charlie’s piano playing is especially commanding when he’s supporting Zay’s lyrical game. Playfully harmonizing puts them back in their element, and the collaboration is near effortless.

It’s been too long, and the vocal pas de deux feels light and easy -- it feels right.

They carry the harmonies through to the end, earning a few impressive vocal runs out of Charlie thanks to the comfortable nature of the rendition. But Zay drops off to let him have the final lines, granting him the moment to shine -- and maybe a bit too distracted by getting to experience it to keep up.

Charlie finishes with an acoustic flourish, traipsing through a few notes on the piano to round out the performance. When he hits the last chord, he holds it for a moment, then lifts his eyes to look at Zay.

Who is already looking at him. Caught in the static aftermath, the buzz of magnetism humming between them. Inches apart on the piano bench, elbows brushing, closer than they’ve been in what feels like forever.

Charlie smiles, gentle and instinctive. After a beat, Zay returns it.

Once the quiet hovers a bit too long, and the air starts to feel a bit too thin, Zay clears his throat. He makes the wise choice to seek out some distance again, getting to his feet and heading back around the piano.

Zay: Well. I think if you do something like that for Columbia, you’ll have no problems. [ a beat ] Not that the piano improv doesn’t do that for you already.

And not that he had doubts to begin with. But doesn’t sound like he has any additional criticism at this time. Charlie appreciates his help regardless, reminding him that he can totally ask for his help on any of his audition stuff too. Friendship is a two-way street, after all.

Charlie: Not that I think I have anything to teach you, but principle of the thing.

That’s a nice offer, albeit self-deprecating, but Zay’s feeling dizzy enough from this little tutor reunion. He claims he should get back to said audition rehearsal, so he won’t take up any more of Charlie’s precious siphoned studio time.

Before Zay can fully escape, Charlie calls after him.

Charlie: Zay?

Zay pauses in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at him. He raises his eyebrows.

Charlie: Thanks.

He’s gonna need a little more than that. Zay turns around to face him again and offers a playful head tilt, crossing his arms. With the space between them, he’s regained the ability to be cheeky.

Zay: For what?

It could be as easy as “for listening” or “for taking the time,” but it’s not that simple. It rarely is with them. Charlie seriously contemplates the teasing question, searching for what it is he wants to say.

Finally, he lands on it, with a light shrug.

Charlie: For always knowing.

That he could do it if he tried. That he had it in him -- anything, everything -- before Charlie even knew it himself. For knowing him.

It’s enough to knock down Zay’s defenses even with the distance. His smirk softens to a tender smile. He gives him a nod, then steps out before he can say anything else.

Charlie watches him go, expression bittersweet. Then he focuses back on the piano, releasing a sigh and playing a few stray notes.

INT. MUSEUM - DAY

Jordan and Farkle are on another date, this time exploring a trendy, exclusive new art museum exhibit that hasn’t opened to the public yet. Jordan is taking a handful of photos as he goes, having negotiated a deal to post about it on his social media to drum up excitement as well as help promote his photography. Coincidentally, he never asks Farkle if he wants to be in a shot.

Farkle hardly notices. He’s too in his own head, thinking about how to maximize this time he’s managed to get with his boyfriend and not willing to screw it up by complaining.

And, this time, he has an entirely different distraction. His phone buzzes with a text, pulling up his thread with Isa when he opens it. Aside from a brief exchange from earlier in the week apologizing for messing up the times for their hangout, Isa has revitalized the conversation with a block of text of their own.

“Hey so sorry to bother you with this because I know you’re super busy and everything -- our track record for hanging out STILL demonstrates that clearly enough -- but I don’t really know who else to talk to. I thought things were going well with Zachary and all that but naturally, the Val of it all has managed to blow up in unexpected ways (because how could she not) and now I have no idea whether I’m guaranteed for a shipwreck. I know you don’t really have advice here or can say anything new that you haven’t told me a thousand times before, but I guess I just needed a space to vent”

“And also if this goes to shit, might need a place to shelter for a few days… lmao”

Farkle frowns. He felt bad already about having messed up their hang -- knowing things are getting shaky doesn’t help. Jordan notices Farkle has lost interest in following him and doubles back to ask what’s up, clocking the expression on his face.

Farkle: Nothing. Just uh -- Isa’s having some problems.

Story of their life. This topic already seems boring to Jordan, but he humors it anyway. Nothing more entertaining than hearing the woes of people you don’t care for, after all…

Jordan: What’s going on? Farkle: I don’t think I should talk about it. It’s their business. Jordan: Minkus, come on. We’re boyfriends. You know you can talk to me about what’s going on in your life. With your people. I’m always here to listen.

When it interests him, at least. After a beat of hesitation, Farkle caves, liking the idea of his words… he gives him the brief synopsis of Isa’s situation, mainly sticking to the facts about visiting L.A. and trying to build a relationship with their biological father.

Farkle: It’s not necessarily new territory for them, but they’ve never had good luck with this stuff. It’s like a neverending Greek tragedy or something, with all the family drama. But they want this to be different. I know they really want this to work out. Jordan: With a mom like Valerie De La Cruz, I can only imagine. Farkle: So if it isn’t going as planned… it just sucks. I wish there was more I could do to help.

Jordan gives Farkle a gentle pat on the shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. This… this is the good stuff. Farkle returns his light smile, grateful.

Jordan: You don’t owe them anything. It’s nice you wanna fix it for them, but that’s not your job. Farkle: No, I know. I know. I just -- I don’t know. I figure I’ll at least offer our couch to crash on if things go south. Maya might be a bit weird about it, but she knows the whole saga too, so she’d probably understand. Diva egos, I can manage…

At this idea, Jordan withdraws a bit. He retracts his hand and stuffs them in his pockets, putting a little more distance between them.

Jordan: I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. Farkle: What? Why not? Jordan: I mean, by all means, do what you want. Like I said, it’s sweet. How you want to help. [ a beat ] But I just feel like you’re giving way more here than you’re getting. Wasn’t this the same friend who ignored you like all of first semester? And now they’re going to live off your couch rent-free? Farkle: That’s not how I’d put it. This is an if, then situation. And the stuff from earlier -- it’s complicated. Like I’ve told you, with Maya, it’s just all a bit -- Jordan: I know what you’ve told me. I’m just telling you how I, an objective observer, see it. To me, it just seems like De La Cruz sees you more as a convenient back-up plan when they need it, rather than a priority. Which isn’t a problem, if you’re happy with it being that way.

Wouldn’t you know, Jordan… Farkle frowns, not convinced. Usually, he’s not as hesitant to buy Jordan’s dribs, but something about this really rubs him the wrong way.

Farkle: Sorry, but I don’t think you’ve got this right here. Yeah, Isa mentioned the housing thing here, but it was more self-deprecating than anything else. This is coming from someone who knows how it feels to bounce around place to place. That’s just the way they talk. Jordan: Right. Sure. Farkle: They aren’t expecting anything from me. If I didn’t answer, I don’t think they’d bat an eye honestly. Especially because they know how they treated me last semester -- they’re more self-aware than I’ve probably made them sound. This is like, the least I could do. Jordan: Okay, and I’m just telling you I disagree. Farkle, baffled: I don’t get why you care so much? Wouldn’t you do the same for your friends? Jordan: Yes, if I considered them truly a friend. If they’d proven their loyalty. So far, can’t say that’s what I’ve seen here. The way Isa treats you -- [ with an aloof shrug ] I’d just rather you not be inviting them into your house. I don’t like it. Farkle: Well, it’s not really your choice. Jordan, affronted: Wow. So you just don’t give a shit that your boyfriend is telling you having someone over at your place makes them uncomfortable? That means nothing to you? Farkle: What? Jordan: Cool. Good to know. [ a beat ] I’m just saying, if I were the one who wanted to have like, Malcolm come stay at my place, I don’t think you’d like that very much either.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. When did this become about anything other than Isa’s family drama? Farkle is totally lost. Deep down, he ends up feeling this way a lot these days -- like conversations with Jordan are a chess game he’s never quite aware he’s playing until he’s been checked.

But right now, all he can sense is that Jordan is not happy -- and he’s walking away from him. He’s moved on and gave him the cold shoulder, continuing to move through the exhibit. Compulsively, Farkle jogs to keep up, promising Jordan that he’ll consider what he said. He doesn’t want him to feel bad about any of it. He’ll hold off, at least until he talks things through with Maya anyway.

It’s not a guaranteed dismissal, but for now, Jordan accepts it. He gives Farkle a smile, and a peck on the cheek, before going back to photographing the exhibit. Like the argument never even happened.

But it did. It did, and although Jordan seems ready to move on, it leaves a bad taste in Farkle’s mouth. Dissatisfaction, even as he did what he needed to salvage the relationship. To keep things afloat. He’s doing everything he can.

His instincts are fighting back, though. When Jordan isn’t looking, he turns around and opens his phone again, crafting a quick text response to Isa.

Then he jogs to catch up when Jordan calls after him, already in the next room.

EXT. GRAVEYARD - DAY

Isa’s phone lights up with Farkle’s text, resting on their thigh.

“I can’t get into this right now bc I’m out but I’m so sorry things are turning upside down. We’ll talk later promise but call if you need anything”

“And if you do need a place to crash, our door is open”

Isa smiles, timid as it might be. It’s not quite the pep talk or deep chat they were hoping for, but it’s a reply. A lifeline, and an offer of sanctuary.

Which right now, who knows if they’ll end up needing it or not. With the way things are going… Isa sighs and lifts their head, looking at Val’s memorial. They’re seated on the grass across from her engraving, finding a brief moment of peace with the ghosts.

Isa: You never make things easy for me, do you? How is it you’re haunting me more from beyond the grave? How many human sacrifices do you need me to deliver before you spare me?

Valerie doesn’t answer. Of course not. The small graveyard remains still, tranquil.

Ironic, that they’d find a slice of quiet in the absence of the person responsible for making their life a never-ending circus.

INT. NYU - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Vanessa and Nigel have reconvened, now well into their little tutoring routine. So it’s time for a progress report. Vanessa places her hands on her hips, taking a deep breath.

Vanessa: All right. Let’s see where we’re at. You ready?

Nigel looks like he’d rather be doing anything else, but after a sigh, he nods. Vanessa returns it, turning and clicking play on her boombox.

It’s Yindra’s voice that sounds off with “hit me,” throwing us into the next sequence --

INT. JUPITER MUSIC - ATRIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Mash-Up: Lose My Breath / Bang Bang” as performed by Destiny’s Child / Jessie J || Performed by Yindra Amino (feat. AMBITION Ensemble)

As the bombastic drums kick off, Yindra steps through the double doors into the atrium of Jupiter Music Group, Reese right behind her. They’ve arrived for the first round of girl group auditions.

And they’re not the only ones. It feels like half of Los Angeles is here, a bunch of hopeful, pretty young women just like Yindra throwing their hat in the ring for this opportunity.

The Destiny’s Child track is the dominant half of the theoretical mash-up here (so listen to that one if you have to choose), but the addition will prove its relevance before long.

Reese takes Yindra to the front and gets her signed in, then one of the assistants takes her away to get her prepped for the auditions. As Yindra is led away, Reese gives her an encouraging nod.

She’ll have to make the encouragement last, because it’s show time. She steps through the next set of doors, and a montage ensues --

INT. JUPITER MUSIC - AUDITION ROOMS - DAY

Showing us the painstaking, laborious sprint that is an audition like this. Yindra is photographed upon entry, from multiple angles. She’s given paperwork to fill out, and a number is pinned to her chest.

INT. NYU - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

At the same time, Vanessa and Nigel rehearsing is intercut. They’re a bit looser, far less tense, allowing for a breath of comedic fresh air throughout the performance.

INT. JUPITER MUSIC - AUDITION ROOMS - DAY

Which is appreciated, because Yindra is going through a juggernaut. She’s assessed quickly, often amidst a sea of other girls, in a myriad of areas -- harmonizing, basic dance ability, interviewing with members of the creative producing team. Although she’s with a set of about twenty other girls in her group, it’s clear as they move through the stages they’re just one group of many.

So much competition. Little chance to stand out.

Even so, Yindra finds her moment. During the vocal try-outs, she channels her Adams diva, finding the one shot she has to make a standout impression. Particularly when the audition panel is looking rather bored, having seen dozens of other women in the last couple of hours.

So she shows them what she can do -- she fucking sings. This is where the “Bang Bang” infusion really shines, because when Jessie J loses her vocal shit on the bridge (“see anybody could be good to you / you need a bad girl to blow your mind”), Yindra does the same. She blows their audition piece out of the water, leaving an undeniable impression.

Then the chaos rolls on, the moment of clarity forgotten to the hustle. Yindra finishes out her audition run as Vanessa and Nigel finish up their rehearsal for the afternoon while the mash-up concludes.

INT. JUPITER MUSIC - ATRIUM - DAY

The latter two manage a successful run-through and exchange relieved high-fives, while Yindra exits the double doors back into the atrium like she’s been spat out of Hell. She closes her eyes and releases a heavy sigh, just as the song comes to a close.

EXT. BURBANK NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY

Isa’s luck seems set to continue, with no divine intervention from Valerie. As they’re arriving back in the MacNamara neighborhood, they discover paparazzi swarming the corner, practically waiting for them. They curse under their breath, debating turning the other way, but they’ve already been spotted.

Paparazzi: There she is! Isadora! Isadora De La Cruz!

They converge in an instant, snapping pictures and starting to ask more questions. Isa tries their best to ignore them, hanging their head low and putting one foot in front of the other, but it’s basically impossible. It’s like being trailed by wasps, stung repeatedly again and again.

Paparazzi 1: Isadora, is it true that Z.D. purposefully hid you from the general public? Paparazzi 2: Is it true Valerie purposefully hid him from you? Paparazzi 3: Isadora -- Isa, snapping: It’s Isa.

Just another block… if they could just walk a little faster…

Paparazzi 2: Did Z.D. Roman abandon you and Valerie because you’re special needs?

Okay, fuck this shit. Isa whips around, staring at the invasive paps who clearly don’t even see them as a human being.

Isa: Are you fucking serious?

It’s only downhill from there. Now that they’ve got a response, they descend like vultures, all shouting louder and trying to get the best shot. Definitely not an ideal scenario for an autistic person, particularly right after having some cute ableism thrown at them.

Suffice to say, it’s not that surprising when Isa loses their grip. They finally hound Isa enough to get them to lash out, lunging in their direction.

Isa: Leave me alone! Jesus Christ, leave me alone!

Naturally, this is the money shot everyone’s been hoping for -- a nice, feral vignette of Isa going Bjork on a fellow paparazzi.

END OF PART 1.

[ ← Last (Part 1, half 1) ] [ 409 Hub ] [ Next (Part 2, half 1) → ]

#409 #episodes #s4

[prettytragcdies]

mun questions! 5, 7, 11, 12, 14.

5. is there a muse you really want to try? if yes: what’s stopping you?

I'm officially writing Lauren Colby from the original Dynasty now, despite the fact that only like me, myself, and I even know who she is, so let's see. I wish that I could write some of my other favorite characters from various shows like Judith Ryland from the reboot of DALLAS, Edie Britt from Desperate Housewives, Julie Cooper from The O.C., etc. I just don't think I could find their voice well enough to keep them in character and write them the way they deserve to be written. I've had to learn the hard way that just because I love a character a whole lot, it doesn't necessarily mean I would be any good at writing them. Then there's also the unfortunate fact that a lot of my favorite shows are ones people from today either don't know anything about or simply just don't write for, but ah well.

I also super duper lowkey want to write an OC Vampire Diaries muse who would be Tyler Lockwood's sister, but that's only because the actress who played Carol Lockwood is back on The Young and the Restless.

7. describe your favorite relationship dynamic. (can be any kind, platonic, romantic, familial, antagonistic, etc.)

That's easy. My favorite relationship dynamic of all time will forever be familial. Mothers and daughters are probably at the tip top of my list, followed closely by fathers and daughters, siblings, etc. Romantic relationships would probably come in second place after all of that, and it's even more fun when the romantic ones eventually turn into new little families. Yeah. I don't know why. I just very much enjoy writing any and all aspects of family.

11. describe your ideal outcome/endgame for the muse you are currently writing. if you are a multimuse blog: do this for your current favorite muse, or the muse of the last reply you posted.

Scarlett Eleanor Ewing is my favorite and the one whose life I have most planned out, so I guess I'll do this one for her. Being married isn't a part of her life she can picture, but the more years I write her, the more I want to see her trying to navigate an actual marriage. So yeah, I guess my ideal endgame would be for her to be either President or Vice President of Ewing Global and either married or divorced with at least one child. I want her to be happy and healthy, despite everything I've put her through to get to that point lol. She's still hella confident and entitled, but some things aren't ever going to change, no matter what.

12. what roleplay trends do you remember from the year you started tumblr rp? how did you feel about those trends?

You know you're officially getting old when you don't even remember but like one or two of the trends from that year. I feel like it was 2011 or sometime around then, and groups were where it was at back then. I joined a small handful, and they were okay. Just like everything else, they had their fair share of pros and cons. I also remember people used gifs more than they did icons back in those days, and I didn't mind that part at all. Sometimes it can be more fun to use gifs, as long as they aren't huge and stretch all the way across your reply, especially when you're scrolling through on a mobile dashboard.

14. which roleplay community has been your favorite to write in?

I know everyone is probably expecting me to say DALLAS, and while it certainly is one of my favorites, I also need to give a shoutout to the soap opera world. I made so many friends in that genre back in the day, some of which I'm still in close contact with today. We've just had so much fun together over the years, and tbh it's part of the reason why I've had so much muse for Lauren Colby and Serenity Scorpio lately. One of my old friends lured me back to RP.ME ( a.k.a. MySpace 2.0 ), and I've officially fallen back down the rabbit hole(s).

#x.| we'll probably have take three ( ooc ) #mischiefxmanagcd

[reggiepeters-love-bot]

apparently all i do now is tell yall my thoughts on whatever i recently watched instead of trying to come up with good content. anyway, i finished nhie s3 today, so:

- ive never been team benvi, but i dont feel super mad abt it as much as i wouldve a few years ago

- paxton my boy ily, amazing character development 

- i wish daxton dated for longer. i feel like there was too much buildup to them being an official couple for them to break up so soon

- i didnt like the timeskip. ik in some way it was necessary but also ive just always hated random time skips

- i love aneesa, just like everyone else on here i wish she got more screentime. glad she dumped ben and didnt take any of his disrespect

- fabneesa,,,, why did that happen if they were gonna throw it away so quickly. it had potential and coulda been a good storyline for both fab and aneesas characters but it literally did nothing

- also w fab,, even though she had a good amount of screentime i feel like there wasnt enough storyline from her. like when she was dating eve we had her whole thing about struggling with still not fitting in even in a queer group and feeling like she had to not be herself. this season, all of her plot points were so rushed. between eve being written out in the first five minutes to literally n o n e of her relationship with addison being shown, fab as her own individual character felt kinda forgotten about. and then her just randomly telling devi and el about losing her virginity when a) el got her own lil storyline for that and then b) as dumb as it may sound, losing their virginities was kinda a big deal for those three and to have it brushed off for one of them feels weird

- trent and eleanor r everything to me. i love them dearly

- character growth from all the vishwakumars>>  wont waste time on devi bc whatever everyone else has said i agree. but nalini not being so strict with devi and their relationship being stronger and healthier is so nice to see. proud of kamala for moving out and for also not just doing whatever her family wanted her to do. and then nirmala coming around and being understanding of kamala after hearing her out. all of it is so good

- i honestly liked des and devi together. they had good chemistry and devi was also in a place where she could be more confident in herself. obv he sucked for not defending devi to his mom but im not too torn up over them breaking up, especially since it furthered devis development

- the way that rhyahs behavior started out as small things to kind of hint at the kind of person she was before the final straw of what she said about devi was rly interesting and i appreciated it from a storytelling standpoint, esp bc nalini was wary of it every time

- glad ben is a better person now. still not my fav

- someone pointed out that the ben and margot thing was put aside in order for there to be drama next season, but i didn’t like that it was just completely forgotten about. like, they agreed to a date and then it was never mentioned again,, like, not even in passing

- eleanor and paxton besties, love to see it

- also trent being sad about paxton leaving was so cute i love him. and him giving paxton his hat,,, monumental

- trents love language in general i love. when el was at dinner with him and he said “not even weed makes me this happy” was freaking everything and i love that eleanor understood how much that meant

- while the show had a lot of strong moments and the best character development of all the seasons, i feel there were also plenty of things that moved too quickly and didnt get enough time and werent explored enough

thats all. take a shot for every use of “character development”

#never have i ever #nhie #nhie season 3 #nhie spoilers

[lucydriscoll]

Welcome to Aurora Bay, LUCY DRISCOLL !!! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like JOSEFINE FRIDA PETTERSEN. You must be the TWENTY THREE year old LITERATURE STUDENT AT AURORA BAY COLLEGE. Word is you’re STUDIOUS but can also be a bit SHY and your favorite song is REFLECTING LIGHT BY SAM PHILLIPS. I also heard you’ll be staying in AURORA BAY DRIVE. I’m sure you’ll love it!

tw: anxiety

GENERAL DETAILS.

BIRTH NAME:  lucy driscoll AGE: twenty three DATE OF BIRTH: 5th of december 2000 PLACE OF BIRTH: aurora bay, california, usa ETHNICITY:  anglo-saxon GENDER:  cis female PRONOUNS: she/her ORIENTATION: panromantic / pansexual RELIGION: atheist OCCUPATION: english literature student

PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS: studious & kind NEGATIVE TRAITS: shy & over-trusting MYERS BRIGGS: INFP

THE RUNDOWN.

everyone in town knows about the levin name, and the various family family members most people would be able to rattle off. lucy grew up the lesser known cousin and neice of the levin family, and honestly, she was glad to stay out of the small town limelight. however, to most who grew up in the town around the same time as she, a young lucy had her own reputation that followed her around.

born lucy marriane driscoll, experienced symptoms of childhood anxiety disorder from a very young age, her parents assuming she was just a shy child and would come out in her own time. at the same time, lucy was delayed in terms of learning to speak, it was almost impossible to get her to vocalise words or sounds, with the exception of rare occasions. her concerned parents took her to as many paediatricians as they could, who all relayed the same information that there was nothing physically afflicting lucy that would prevent her from speaking. it would take several sessions with a paediatric speech pathologist for the driscoll's to finally understand that lucy had selective mutism. essentially, it meant that she experienced a complex anxiety disorder in which she experienced a phobia of speaking and being in social situations. often one to hide behind her mothers skirts and dresses, a little lucy found the big world around her very overwhelming. over the years the driscoll's got straight into cognitive behaviour therapy and desensitisation therapy for lucy, and even began teaching her conversational ASL for better communication. by the time lucy went to school, she was beginning to speak in soft tones, but albeit rarely. she was known in classes as the girl that never talked, and occasionally got picked on for it.

frustrated by her own inability to communicate to the level she wished, lucy discovered her love for writing. all the thoughts and feelings inside of her head could be written on paper. finally, she had an outlet. throughout her early schooling years, lucy would write stories daily, including members of her family and those kindest around her to show her appreciation — her own little love language.

lucy would gradually speak more throughout the years, but it would be around fifteen years old when she truly had the confidence to speak out loud. this was managed through the various therapies and the assistance of those closest to her. however, that didn't mean she stopped writing, her passion for the skills still burned bright. this love of literature brought out a confidence in her studies, to the point she'd spend hours reading and writing for school until she'd fall asleep at the table. for the first time in her life she had a drive to succeed, to get into a university and be someone special. still a somewhat reserved person, lucy see's the world in a very different frame of mind as an adult. she loves people nowadays, and works to build strong friendships and bonds.

CONNECTIONS.

current connections.

Aiden Stevens: Long-time close friend Eleanor Andersen: Friend & Fellow book fan Emerson Cassidy: Book Buddy Kylee Anthony: Best friend Liza Levin: Cousin Sterling Levin: Cousin Peyton Dyer: Classmate Maura Cortes: Friend Sullivan Shaw: Friend

wanted connections. ( wip )

High School Bully: Who picked on Lucy’s shyness and aversion to talking. Book Club Members: Read books of the week, and meet to discuss. Childhood Crush:She’d never speak to them, rather watched from afar.

#aurorabay.intro

[odysseywritings]

Holidays (Modern AU) - For Jax

The short trip took longer than expected, and Mick and Eleanor had to return quickly before the windy snow became a blizzard. Mick's dragon form made the travel faster yet his scales were feeling the chill, and he was experiencing being snowblind. Eleanor had to guide him to pathways with more visible sights away from the white clusters.

Eleanor spotted their house in the gray void of winter and guided him down to a large open space in town. With natural ease, he transformed back to a human, and he rushed inside with Eleanor.

The two were chilled to the bone, especially Mick with him taking longer to warm up from the dragon biology still cooking inside. Eleanor went to the fireplace and sparked some wood to keep it alight and hot. The fire began to boom and swirl madly before settling, and Mick was able to remove his coat and sit down next to it, holding his hands out while shivering and clattering his teeth.

Soon enough, he found his body balancing itself out, and he felt human again, albeit still cold and tingly. Eleanor left and grabbed a large cotton blanket, marshmallows, and a VHS tape. Mick could feel his heart bounce in excitement.

The fireplace sparkled with soothing warmth, a sensation Mick had felt with increasing normalcy after being used to his transformation. It was the perfect atmosphere to snuggle up together with a large blanket and watch a VHS of the classic film Mallrats.

"You know, Mick," Eleanor said leaning her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad we went on that journey."

He blinked in confusion. "What, just now? That was just an hour long."

"No, goober. I'm taking about the BIG one."

"Oh, right." A thought processed in his head as her words were gaining more weight. "Wait, like you missed it? That's not really what I'd call a fun time."

"Not like that. I meant... We grew a lot after that. Especially you. You became more confident and self assured. More free. It's really nice to see."

"Heh, I get it now. Thank you. I kinda wish I had a nicer self discovery, though. With less bloodshed and death, and more like these characters."

"Don't we all? But it is what is, and I'd like to think we got something nice out of it."

"Hmm?"

"Us."

Eleanor was amused to see him blush, but Mick took the eased courage to kiss her sweetly, and the two fell back into warm comfort.

"So," Mick smiled with some uncertainty. "Are we going to have to wear some corny sweaters?"

"It is a tradition after all," Eleanor shrugged. "Do you want the one with the polar bears in Santa hats or the one saying 'Merry Christmas, you filthy animals?'"

"The second one definitely."

They both chuckled and Eleanor gave Mick a quick kiss on the cheek before returning to soft crackles of embers and the antics of 90s slackers. It was a cozy night to be sure, away from the cold madness outside, and having a relaxing time full of little joys. In a different life, their ordeals might have been more fantastic, but here and now they embraced the moment.

[dearshelby]

Hi Lora! Sorry to interrupt but you talked about Ellie’s homophobia and attraction to gender roles. Can you elaborate more about this please??

Oh, ABSOLUTELY

There are two factors here, she's an average 1920s woman, as much as I'd like to say that mentality doesn't affect her, it does, not in a tory queer hating way, it's internalized and most of times, it only affects her. Plus, there's the way her mum raised her, she was meant to marry an accountant, perhaps even a doctor. It's safe to say mama nearly fainted when Ellie showed up with a roma gangster

Eleanor's mind works pretty much like "homosexuality being illegal is horrible, people should be free to love who they want," but when it comes to her own she's like "I'm terrible and going against nature, how could this happen to me?"

Now, talking about gender, Polly is an inspiration to her, she really wishes she had Pol's confidence, like in that s1 scene Tommy says "not women's business" and she says "this whole enterprise was women's business when you were at war," in the meanwhile, Ellie was completely quiet, she didn't think she had the right of arguing with her husband

Although she gained some confidence over the years, she still prefers acting in the shadows. If anything, she sees herself as Tommy's helper/adviser

(And I'm glad you approved her face claim! Zoia is one of the prettiest women I've seen and when I first saw her I thought "yes, that's Eleanor")

#OC Eleanor Shelby #peaky blinders oc #ask box

[sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins]

bonnie-barstow-of-flag asked : Name one of your favorite tropes. What has influenced your writing and blog? If you’re an oc blog, did you have any characters in mind while creating your character? What is a trope you’ve always wanted to subvert? Is there a fact/detail about your muse that you think would surprise people if you told them about it? Name a question you’ve always wanted to be asked about your muse.

Easy Meme for a Burnt Out Mun. / @bonnie-barstow-of-flag -- accepting

Name one of your favorite tropes.

Someone would probably say my favorite trope is dead parents because somehow in almost every character I write or oc I create, a parent is dead. (Cassie, Varric, Sean, Eleanor, Evie, Jacob, Milton, Baker, Abe, Astrid). But that’s just an unexpected similarity between my muses and with ocs, it adds some drama in their backstory. (Though, if I made another oc, I wouldn’t have this be the case).

I think I know some tropes, but not off the top of my head, and I don’t have just one. I love characters like Evie who are confident, intelligent, but also guarded with their heart. I love enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies. I especially love when two enemies work together for a cause that benefits both of them and that might be taking down enemy number 3. Romantic fluff from people in two different social classes. The hero that doesn’t want to be the hero, but is destined to be. Cuddling for body warmth. Slowburn. Fake relationship or arranged marriage (but not abusive). 

What has influenced your writing and blog?

A lot of things! For aesthetics, I take from various other blogs, but I’m not graphic savvy, so I tend to not change things up. Luckily, I have been able to keep my blogs aesthetically pleasing with my limited graphic ability. For my writing as a whole: my rp partners. I do take some inspiration from various authors and I save descriptions and lines I really enjoy from various pieces of literature. I’ve been trying to get more into the hobby of reading, but most of my writing influence has come from my rp partners. I think with the variation of rp threads across all of my blogs and my close mutuals, I have been influenced a lot by their writing. It especially helps with improving my writing and developing my character more. 

At the moment, I’m switching between multiple books, but the S.ong of A.chillies has been my writing inspiration recently. I usually get swept up into the idea that long writing means more interesting writing and I must go all out with details, but with MIllers’ writing of short sentence style, she puts so much detail and life into her short sentence structure that its a nice reprieve to read something that doesn’t go on and on (that requires much thought and concentration between my heavy academic workload). It’s a relatively light read and while I have some issues with the book, I do love her simple writing style because it holds so much vivid, beautiful description in just a single sentence. I do like Amy Harmon in terms of authors that I’ll read her other work. I wish I could write like her and create such unique voices in my writing and her hold and variety with her characters. A narrator in one book sounds like a completely different person from the next and she masters writing in two different povs perfectly so that the book doesn’t lose its flow. I highly recommend “What the Wind Knows” & “Where the Lost Wander”. Ron Hansen moreso for his very, very descriptive writing, but his writing is so description heavy and long that I don’t want to end up that way in my own writing. I usually take bits and pieces from various authors and usually I look at authors for the way they describe a scene. But ultimately, I am influenced by my rp partners.

If you’re an oc blog, did you have any characters in mind while creating your character?

I don’t so much have a character in mind so much as a concept. All of my muses have originated from a concept or an idea I had in mind.

Cassie: I wanted a character that was softer amongst the rather bleak and angsty background of my muses. They all vary, but a lot of them have a bit of angst to them. Cassie does, no doubt, have a tragic backstory tied to her and has become more angsty with time, but instead of the rather angry and violent nature of most of my muses, Cassie is the soft daisy in my muse list. I also wanted to toy with an idea that in r.dr2’s world setting in the V.an der l.inde gang that there was an avid gardener in their crew. 

Eleanor: I really liked the idea of a journalist/reporter. When the western/r.dr2 rpc was more active, people tended to make either bounty hunters or outlaw muses. It makes sense because the game and the time period tend to focus on either two, but I did like the idea of someone on the “outside” that can interview these rugged figures. I also felt like Eleanor was a breath of fresh air to me because I write like multiple outlaws and one Pinkerton agent. 

Lydia: When I watched t.urn the later half of 2019 and made Lydia in early 2020, I believe, I really wanted to make a character of my own that interacted with the t.urn characters. I wanted to see what connections she would have. The rpc was very small then. It is small now, but it is way, way more active than it was then. Then more people came in and I wrote Lydia more, which really strengthened her character. Luckily, many people have indulged me with Lydia, developing her character more and providing me with a variety of different interactions that can help, in turn, direct her development as a whole. I'm still interested in seeing where dynamics can go with her.

Arala: I hardly use her and I’m debating if I want to drop her altogether. S.tar w.ars was a big part of my childhood. I would draw Darth Vader on paper in pencil until my hand hurt and my pale skin was dark. Honestly, the s.tar w.ars rpc intimidates me really heavily and I don’t have as much knowledge as I used to on the series. I remember the basics, but I would have to remember all of the stuff again. I made it after watching the new trilogy and i wanted someone who can shift to either side and was mostly out for herself. Most of my ocs tend to be on the softer side (even temperament Lydia) and I wanted someone who was angry, self-centered, and focused on her own survival. Exhibiting very masculine leaning traits.

What is a trope you’ve always wanted to subvert?

I’m not really sure what this is asking me and I tend to not stick to or think of tropes generally in my writing, so my answer is limited. 

Generally, I find it kinda annoying that a love interest has to be part of almost every movie. I know it adds drama and motivation, but I think shows can flesh out a love interest better than a movie unless there’s a sequel. Unless it’s specifically a romcom or anything, I don’t ever feel any connection to a relationship in a movie. I think if you have to always include a love interest in something, it can show lazy writing imo. 

The twin trope is that they are psychic or whatever. I write a pair of twins on here (Evie & Jacob) and they do exhibit some of the tropes for twins (one is more serious vs the comedic relief who tells the other twin to chill out), but Evie does exhibit some mischievousness to her character. Hardly, but it’s there if you squint. I also think their backstory and the storyline in the game give them more of a reason for why they are this way. I also dislike the trope for twins that are eerily similar, like basically copies of one another, but the whole psychic twin thing bugs me. I have a pair of twins in my family and while they are a bit different, they aren’t complete opposites, but they aren’t the exact same either. They’re like regular siblings and people.

Honorable mentions: love triangles, cheating plots (... not about a certain spy show, I swear /sarcasm).

Is there a fact/detail about your muse that you think would surprise people if you told them about it?

Oh god I’m not sure. It depends I guess on what muse it is? For Evie, I stick close to canon, but kinda expand on some of her traits. So her more perfectionist, workaholic, and more reluctance to fall in love and give into her feelings may surprise some? Probably something about each muse of mine would surprise someone since I tend to add a few of my own ideas/take to them that are a bit different from canon. 

Uh, Cassie Roosevelt has no connection to Teddy Roosevelt despite the name.

Name a question you’ve always wanted to be asked about your muse.

It depends on the ask meme and what it is. I have wanted to talk about a certain thing with a specific muse over my time spent writing, but I have completely forgotten about it. Usually, if that’s the case, I’ll just make a headcanon post about it and talk about it there. But there are times where I want to talk about a ship or a dynamic, but i don’t want to annoy my rp partner about my thoughts. I tend to go deep into my dynamics as I do with everything revolving around characters, so I try to refrain from that because I know that’s not for everyone. So I keep my ramblings and plot ideas to myself most of the time.

#asks #bonnie-barstow-of-flag #( ooc ) #long post #long post tw #// long post #( thank you for this! ) #( Sorry I got rambly )

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

Yeah, Louis is not with Harry (at least not anymore) but I also definitely don’t think he’s with Eleanor. There is way too much that has happened with that, with the way that “relationship” has played out. It’s why Elounor stans are so bad - what are you even shipping? If you’re only hear for a ship, you’re almost not better than h**rie larries. And it’s true that she is almost an ex-Syco employee 😭

With the audition stuff, it’s true what you say. Surely they’re going to show the full “Hey There, Delilah” audition and Louis himself knows how nervous and shaky he was there. It seems like they gave him the three yes’s because of Mr Brightside but I would be surprised if they showed that. Still, that was over 12 years ago - if people base their entire belief about his talent from that, then they’re stupid. Whatever anyone might think, Nicole and Louis Walsh saw potential in Louis. And the people behind One Direction didn’t appreciate the beauty of his tone - rather the people there gave him a whole host of confidence issues I will never forgive them for - but they surely knew fans wanted more of Louis’ voice. It’s what I didn’t get - I knew a lot of 1D fans and pretty much all of them wished Louis was allowed to sing more. Moments of silence during his solos, etc. His voice is so distinctive in a way that the others really weren’t (except Zayn is always distinctive too). Back then, occasionally, especially at the beginning, I sometimes mixed up Liam, Niall and Harry, mostly while I was learning their voice but still. In 1D’s live performances, Louis’ voice really stood out. But Liam’s was the only really good audition - if I remember correctly, Zayn’s was good too, just very obvious he was nervous, he’s always been very talented. So basing someone’s ability off one audition from an inexperienced singer is ridiculous and says way more about you than anyone else. I don’t know if that person’s fans don’t actually know much about music but in the performances I have heard lately, Harry didn’t sound great. Bad technique, etc. The songs I have heard in his third album, his voice really doesn’t sound amazing. And I always thought Harry at least had a really nice voice.

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#one direction

[wildberriesandavocados]

70. “Believe in yourself! Have faith in your abilities! Without a humble but reasonable confidence in your own powers you cannot be successful or happy.” – Norman Vincent Peale

71. “Do one thing every day that scares you.” ― Eleanor Roosevelt

72. “Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope and confidence.” – Helen Keller

74. “A dream written down with a date becomes a goal. A goal broken down into steps becomes a plan. A plan backed by action makes your dreams come true.” – Greg S. Reid

76. “Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before.” – Dalai Lama

77. “If you can’t fly then run, if you can’t run then walk, if you can’t walk then crawl, but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

79. “Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom. Mastering others is strength; mastering yourself is true power.” – Tao Te Ching

80. Even if things don’t unfold the way you expected, don’t be disheartened or give up. One who continues to advance will win in the end.” ― Daisaku Ikeda

83. “What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

84. “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” – Gandhi

86. “Keep your face to the sunshine and you can never see the shadow.” – Helen Keller

88. “Make each day your masterpiece.” – John Wooden

92. “Don’t count the days, make the days count.” – Muhammad Ali

94. “Everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear.” – George Addair

95. “A year from now you may wish you had started today.” – Karen Lamb

98. “There are no short cuts to any place worth going.” – Beverly Sills

35. “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain

37. “A head full of fears has no space for dreams. – Unknown”

38. “A person who never made a mistake never tried anything new.” – Albert Einstein

39. “Nothing will work unless you do.” – Maya Angelou

46. “Move out of your comfort zone. You can only grow if you are willing to feel awkward and uncomfortable when you try something new.” – Brian Tracy

47.“It doesn’t matter where you came from. All that matters is where you are going.” – Brian Tracy

49. “Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.” – Thomas Edison

50. “Always forgive your enemies. Nothing annoys them more.” – Oscar Wilde

53. “Everyone is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will spend its whole life believing it is stupid.” – Einstein

55. “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” – Winston Churchill

56. “Who seeks shall find.” – Sophocles

65. “You must take personal responsibility. You cannot change the circumstances, the seasons, or the wind, but you can change yourself. That is something you have charge of.” – Jim Rohn

2. “A journey of thousand steps begins with a single step.” – Chinese proverb 

5. “Life has two rules: #1 Never quit #2 Always remember rule # 1.” – Unknown

6. “It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.” – Aristotle Onassis

7. “The best way to predict the future is to invent it.” – Alan Kay

8. “Do you want to know who you are? Don’t ask. Act! Action will delineate and define you.” – Thomas Jefferson

9. “Winners lose much more often than losers. So if you keep losing but you’re still trying, keep it up! You’re right on track.” – Matthew Keith Groves

15. “No matter who you are, no matter what you did, no matter where you’ve come from, you can always change, become a better version of yourself.” – Madonna

16. “The new year stands before us, like a chapter in a book, waiting to be written. We can help write that story by setting goals.” – Melody Beattie

17. “Nothing can stop the man with the right mental attitude from achieving his goal; nothing on earth can help the man with the wrong mental attitude.” – Thomas Jefferson

18. “Once you’ve accepted your flaws, nobody can use them against you.” – Game Of Thrones

19. “Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.” – Confucius

21. “Difficult doesn’t mean impossible, it simply means that you have to work hard.” – Unknown

22. “Being challenged in life is inevitable, being defeated is optional.” – Unknown

25. “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.” – Hellen Keller

27. “It’s not the years in your life that count, it’s the life in your years.” – Unknown

29. “Our true character is that person we become when no one is watching.” – Unknown

31. “We aim above the mark to hit the mark.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

33. “You can’t hit a home run unless you step up to the plate. You can’t catch fish unless you put your line in the water. You can’t reach your goals if you don’t try.” – Kathy Seligman

3. “The conditions are never right, people who delay action until all factors are favourable – do nothing.” – Unknown

To be the best version of me.

Know your limits but never accept them.

You are capable of great things.

Replace fear of the unknown with curiosity.

Make time for yourself.

A year from now you will wish you had started today.

Wake up, drink water, work out, eat healthy, be awesome.

When the odds are one in a million be the million.

Be thhe fruitloop in a bowl of cereal.

"To give anything less than your best is the sacrifice the gift." "A runner must run with dreams in his heart." "We all have dreams. In order to make dreams come into reality, it takes an awful lot of determination, dedication, self-discipline and effort." "A marathon is like life with its ups and downs, but once you've done it, you feel you can do anything." "Dream the impossible, do the incredible." "Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do." "If the hill has its own name, then it's probably a pretty tough hill." "Life (and running) is not all about time but about our experiences along the way." "Ability is what you are capable of doing. Motivation determines what you do. Attitude is how well you do it." "I run because I used to be envious of people that could run, and now I am that person." "Success doesn't come to you... you go to it." "Success is a state of mind. If you want success, start thinking of yourself as a success." "Running is one of the best solution to a clear mind." "You can't go back and make a brand new start, but you can start now and make a brand-new end." "In order to succeed, we must first believe we can." "Anything is possible, but you have to believe and you have to fight." "Joy lies in the fight, in the attempt, in the suffering involved, not in the victory itself." "Running is my sunshine." "If you want to achieve a high goal, you're going to have to take some chances." "It hurts up to a point and then it doesn't get any worse." "The woods are lovely dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep." "If you always do what you have always done, you will always get what you have received." "Even if you fall flat on your face at least you are moving forward" "Nothing's better than the wind to your back, the sun in front of you, and your friends beside you." "If you don't have confidence, you'll always find a way not to win." "We're so busy watching out for what's just ahead of us that we don't take time to enjoy where we are." "The more I train, the more I realize I have more speed in me." "Obstacles are those frightening things that become visible when we take our eyes off our goals." "There's no such thing as bad weather, just soft people." "You must do the thing which you think you cannot do." "Good judgment is the result of experience, experience is the result of bad judgment." "The most beautiful motion is that which accomplishes the greatest results with the least amount of effort." "Reality can destroy the dream; why shouldn't the dream destroy reality?" "The only way of finding the limits of the possible is by going beyond them into the impossible." "A run begins the moment you forget you are running."