#HOW DARE THEY GIVE AMBITION CONSEQUENCES IN MY SHOW ABOUT AMBITION HAVING CONSEQUENCES???
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I for one loved the final season of tmmm. It’s getting a lot of hate for not doing this or that or just not being 100% a happy ending (how dare it be bitter sweet??? She’s?? Isolated from her loved ones because of the inevitable cost of her ambition and fame??? ImPoSsiBle!!).
When we first started with the flash forwards of Midge’s children and we saw how estranged they were, I admit I wasn’t too pleased, but as the season was coming out I was also doing a rewatch, and the more of the old seasons I watched, the more s5 made sense. This is where we’ve always been headed. Every big turn in the series has always presented Midge with the question “will you choose your domestic life or your career?” and she chose her career. Every. Time. Over men, over family, over her children. Even when she was presented with Benjamin, ostensibly an opportunity to try and make it work with a man who actively supported her career, she walked away from him because she knew that he would never matter to her as much as being on stage would. To be honest, I think the flash forwards were nearly kind. They started out rough in the first half of the season with the estrangement, the several failed marriages, and the implication of a falling out with Susie, but eventually they balanced out. She fought with Susie, but they eventually found their way back to each other. She was distant from her family, but she still loved them and used her money to support her mother’s dream. She got everything she wanted because she made a choice and she took it as far as she could.
As far back as s2e7 (and honestly even before that), this message has been explicit in the show with that painter showing Midge his master piece and explaining how it ruined his life because he put everything he had into that. The epilogue is showing us Midge’s version of that, and tbh, it still pulls its punches, because she still manages to have meaningful (if distant) relationships with Susie, her family, and Joel whereas the painter’s story was somehow even more depressing.
Was s5 perfect? Of course not. Some of the scenes didn’t land for me, and there are things I wish they would’ve done differently, but when it comes down to it, this was a pretty good conclusion. It showed how the characters grew, and how they were still exactly who they always were. It gave every character an ending that made sense for them (even when some of them made me sad) and honestly, Midge’s four minute set on the Gordon Ford show (which could not possibly have been just four minutes) could not more blatantly have been a thesis statement that the show never once veered away from. Everything was building to this conclusion, and I for one found it satisfying in the way that a well crafted story/conclusion is always satisfying, even if it’s a conclusion that makes people uncomfortable.
#happy endings aren’t the only kind of good ending#midge has always been ambitious and selfish#we love this about her!#sometimes we also hate it#but this is what that gets you#and that makes sense to me#the show basically said ‘this is the direction we’re going’#for five seasons straight#and now people are like#*surprise pikachu meme*#HOW DARE THEY GIVE AMBITION CONSEQUENCES IN MY SHOW ABOUT AMBITION HAVING CONSEQUENCES???#HOW DARE WOMEN CHOOSE SUCCESS OVER THEYRE RELATIONSHIPS???#DONT THEY KNOW ITS 2023 AND WOMEN CAN HAVE IT ALL NOW?#like#yes#but this is not that show and that’s also not always realistic or true#anyway#the marvelous mrs. maisel#midge maisel
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"these writers are annoying because the actual first crack in aemond & alicent relationship should have been alicent toasting rhaenyra, saying she will make a fine queen despite still no consequences for what happened to him and even ewan underlined this, that a crime went unpunished and that aemond's world became unbalanced because of this and then you have alicent being like 'forget all that, rhaenyra you will make a fine queen'. "
you're so right about this but it's very clear the writers hadn't thought of this when they wrote the dinner scene otherwise we would've had Aemond's reaction to Alicent's toast but we didnt so it's a sure bet the first crack in their relationship is going to be Luke's death. But even that will probably consist of Alicent being mad on behalf of Rhaenyra and her pain as a mother who had just unfairly lost her son and how dare Aemond do that do her. I know some will point out book!Alicent being mad at book!Aemond for killing Luke but that was because his actions started a war and she knew there was no going back from that, but not because she felt anything for Rhaenyra.
Look, I have no problems with the writers making non-canon ships canon in the show (or any other changes to the source material) but something like Rh*enicent is too disruptive and is detrimental to the whole story, but especially to Alicent since they're just taking away her whole agency and ambitions in the name of a friendship (or more than that even) that should've never happened to begin with. They're basically making Alicent the victim of the men around her (her father and sons) and the decisions they are making and to some degree the same can be said for Rhaenyra since they can pin most bad things on Daemon for example.
yeah, there's plenty of stories that they can adapt where a ship like rhaen*cent would make sense and even enrich the story, but this is not it especially because it's making alicent as a character unrecognizable. she goes from someone who is taken as wife to provide more heirs for the king and then decides her children are more important than the said king's wish to crown his daughter from his first marriage to someone who by the end of the story might want to poison the very son she put on the throne?
while the book underlines that the war starts after luke's death saying that the war of ravens ended and the war of fire and blood began, it was clear a war was coming anyway because even in the show, with a softened rhaenyra, alicent says from the first moment that neither she or daemon will publicly bend the knee to aegon.
so what i'm saying is that we took this character who had an agency in saying 'fuck that' after giving the king four children, all legitimate, and being ignored, and deciding to put her children above the king's wishes and do as she wanted to this character who omg!! just found out there's a plot to crown her son and omg!! she's only participating in it because her very ill, half rotting husband blabered something to her on his death bed.
the 'you are the challenge, aegon' speech forgotten, even though it happened BEFORE aemond's eyes was taken, BEFORE laenor 'died' under very suspicious circumstances, BEFORE vaemond was killed. so suddenly all her worries and her care for her children are gone and she's not doing ONE thing about it and even more than that, she's out here at the same table as aemond saying 'rhaenyra, you will make a fine queen'.... these writers are ridiculous.
at the end of the day alicent's character suffers more from this writing then rhaenyra. because they turned her into this woman who supposedly hates everything about her life and just stands there hoping, praying rhaenyra will glance at her once so she can melt on the spot and say thank you my queen. meanwhile rhaenyra had laenor as a husband who she was friendly with, harwin the father of her first three children and even daemon, who although toxic was a significant part of her life in all those years she lived. she had experiences and people in her life outside of alicent and alicent isn't nearly as central to her.
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Hello there! How does MC comfort the warlords? They go through a lot of stress ;-;! Requests: Nobunaga, Kennyo (my baby), Kenshin, Hideyoshi (somebody please help this man relax), and Ieasyu (I cannot spell his name lmao) thanks xx
Hello! It’s true that they need some comfort, specially Hideyoshi XD. Thank you for requesting.
MC comforting the warlords.
Oda forces.
Nobunaga Oda.
To him, he didn’t need to be comforted. But he clearly needed it. Ever since he was a child, Nobunaga had mostly been on his own, against his own family for the position of lord. Even after he became the lord of Owari, he ambition had brought many enemies against him. The moment you hugged him and said it was ok to cry, he thought it was a bit ridiculous-
Wait… why did his cheeks feel wet? He soon realized that he really was crying. Nobunaga didn’t understand why, he has never cried ever since he was a child. Those were tears he held back so many times because he would be seen as weak, because there was no one there to wipe them away.
He hugged you tightly and let all that pain leave him, feeling comfortable and safe for the first time in his life.
“It’s ok, love. Just let it all out.”
You two cuddled in the futon, he felt much better after being embraced by you.
Hideyoshi Toyotomi.
he is extremely stressed, every day all day long. This was one of the consequences of being the mother hen of everyone. He was always so busy caring and worrying about others that he barely had any time to care about himself. This seriously worried you and he even got scolded by you on this matter.
But he was too stubborn to take a break. But one day, as he was working in his room, he began to have a big headache, it was due to overwork and lack of proper caring of his body. He was used to this, there was usually no one there to take care of him. But then…
He felt someone pulling him from behind to fall back and lay his head on something soft. He looked up and noticed that he was laying on your lap.
“Don’t you dare overwork yourself, I am the one taking care of you now.” His heart warmed at those words.
Ieyasu Tokugawa.
It will be difficult to comfort this one, he hates showing weakness to anyone. He will be stubborn about not needing to be comforted by anyone. Which is a lie. He will seriously need some comfort but will hide it.
You weren’t having any of it, you would catch him off guard by hugging him and not letting go at all. He protested at first and tried to pull away, but then he will stop, he felt warmth from your embrace. It made him feel reassured.
He will lean towards you and hug you back, all he needed was to have you near him.
“It’s ok to rely on me, you know? I don’t think you are weak.” He will feel more reassured by those words.
Uesugi-Takeda alliance.
Kenshin Uesugi.
He seriously needed it, though he wouldn’t admit it. Kenshin had a lot of pain from the past that still haunted him, that gave him nightmares. It was a storm inside his mind that would take a long while to calm down.
Sometimes all he needed was to hug you, to feel that you were alive with him. All he needed was to see your smile, to reassure him that you were happy with him.
He constantly needed comfort, but it was something you two could work together. Most of the time, you would cuddle with him and give him all of your attention, every day you would reassure him that he could live a happy life, and that would help him bit by bit.
Lone forces.
Kennyo.
His pain was deep, it was an inner scar bigger than the one on his face. Thousands of lives were lost and he felt guilty that he couldn’t save them all. It was too much for a kindhearted man like him. He deemed himself a demon that needed to do whatever it took to get revenge. It would take time to heal and help him see that revenge wouldn’t help anyone.
He has always been a kind man that wouldn’t harm people because he wanted to, having you reminding him that healing could bring a greater peace than any revenge could helped him a lot.
He once almost lost sight of what really mattered, but your words and warmth brought peace to his heart.
#ikemen sengoku#ikesen#ikemen sengoku nobunaga#ikesen nobunaga#ikemen sengoku hideyoshi#ikesen hideyoshi#ikemen sengoku ieyasu#ikesen ieyasu#ikemen sengoku kenshin#ikesen kenshin#ikemen sengoku kennyo#ikesen kennyo
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of all the marauders who do you relate the most to and why?
Hey, thank you for asking me this, I'll return the favour! Hope you're doing well :)
I'm not sure, really. I see parts of myself in all of them, including Peter. I've thought about this a lot lately and now I get this ask? I thinks that's fate lol
I'll start by saying that the one I relate to the least is James. He's so different from me: he's a leader, he's hot-headed, daring, the life of the party, and so many things that I am not. He's who I wish I was... Or who I wish I was with, of this I'm not sure.
I relate a little bit to Peter: I wasn't always able to speak my mind, and liked the company of people who were much more extroverted than me. I'm not like that anymore, though, haven't been in a long time. I don't understand how he could give up everything just to save himself: I'd rather be lonely than hurt my friends. I do understand, though, his feelings of inadequacy, his desire to feel safe and protected.
Sirius, however... He has been my favourite character for the longest time, and definitely my favourite marauder. He's a bit more real to me than the other three. I think his death was probably the saddest one for most of us, but when OOTP came out - I think I was reading POA at the time, so it was still very Sirius-centric - I had just lost my uncle (don't worry, it was over 15 years ago so I'm okay) and I couldn't help but see myself in Harry in those situations. Also, the fact that Sirius was Harry's uncle in everything but blood made everything all the more real to me. So no, I don't relate to Sirius, even though we do share some traits I'm sure, but he's the one that I hold closest to my heart, so he deserved some attention.
That leaves Remus. It's hard for me to describe him, and it's kind of uncomfortable to think about how similar we are... Which only further proves that I relate to him the most. I've been called kind, exceptionally empathetic and patient by so many people, but I fail to see that most of the time. Or rather, those traits are not as prevalent as others. I think Remus had a tendency to give up; I wouldn't call it a pessimistic attitude, but rather defeatist. Remus wants things, but what's the point of fighting for them if you're not gonna get what you want? He didn't want to stand out, but was secretly very funny and charismatic; he only showed his true personality in front of his friends. Remus often denied himself happiness (i.e. when he left Tonks while she was pregnant) because he couldn't imagine a scenario where things would end well, and also didn't believe he deserved all the good things that had happened to him. I also think Remus had some anger issues, which were definitely a consequence of his trauma, but they were also caused by the fact that he did have dreams, desires and ambitions even though he denied it (to himself as well as others), so he was frustrated with himself. He was a dreamer disguised as a cynic. And to be honest, I am all of these things. And you know what? I love it.
Thank you again for sending such a great ask! You might have noticed I like to talk a lot when the topic interests me :)
Feel free to dm me if you wanna chat ❤️
#actually if anyone else wants to chat don't hesitate to message me :)#jfleamont rambles#harry potter#james potter#marauders#sirius black#remus lupin
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How to break a bad boy’s heart
“Frankly, I don’t give a damn, go f*ck yourself b*tch.”
-Ran Haitani
Tags and warnings : angst w/ comfort, infidelity!, cheater!Ran, use of alcohol, possessive behavior, 3k+ words and more
Author's note : Thank your for 700+!!! ❤ 🤍 💙
It is a truth universally acknowledged, Ran was a man who enjoyed a life of thrill.
He shined the best in that specific area, and though it wasn’t something to be proud of, he didn’t care. Why would he? The people criticizing him would just come back to kiss his ass anyways.
There was nobody important to him other than his brother, the rest could f*ck off.
“Be my man” you said to him one day, cornering him in some random classroom.
At first, the chase was exhilarating. It gave him satisfaction. It made you feel wanted.
Crazy in love, you’d describe yourself. You couldn’t speak for Ran though. He probably just thought of you as a one-time lover.
However, just as he was the notorious bad boy of the city, A criminal, he started to seek for more. Knowing the consequences and enjoying the heck of it.
Young and adventurous as you were, never in your life did you think you’d get sucked into the people in life that your mother would tell you to avoid.
That was made clear when you found yourself sitting in a corner, a red cup filled with who knows what in your hands as you tried to navigate your way through the sea of people.
After about a month of being on and off he called you once again.
Being treated like some toy he could just chew back after getting bored, it sucked.
A dog of a man, he was. Admired by almost every other boy in the city but despised by the women who weren't trying to get into his pants for at least a one-night stand.
It made you feel worthless, like a second option, an obsessed fangirl he keeps around for fun.
But you truly did like him, He was the man who showed you the way a gangster lives. The fights, the parties, the power of his people.
You managed to see one of the numerous worlds you were missing out on, and you could thank Ran for being the person to bring you these pleasantries.
He wasn’t all that bad, you thought. If he had just been a little more self-aware then, maybe then you would have truly committed yourself to forgo your future to be with him.
Ah yes. Just a little bit more of ambition and passion, he would’ve been a man desired by the female population.
But alas that just wasn’t him. At least not the one you knew.
Hands on another girl's waist as he practically made out with her on the couch, it drove you mad.
The way he’d caress her back, opening his eyes to stare directly into hers, her holding him tightly as if this scenario wasn’t going to happen again, and it surely wasn’t.
The scene in front of you was burned into your memory, It probably wasn’t the first time he’d done this. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.
Ditching the drink, you threw it at them, ignoring the way they both jumped up so fast and looked around to see the culprit.
The girl he had been ‘cheating’ on you with, beginning to cuss you out before she saw the nonchalant expression on Ran’s face.
“Baby! How dare she!” Her frilly voice cut through the silenced party as they looked at the drenched leader. She clinged onto Ran, her chest nestling in his arm as he stood there, still looking at you with an expression you deemed was his version of being caught red-handed.
Even though he didn’t look the least bit sorry.
“Ah, so f*cking annoying” He muttered. You rolled your eyes as you tried to saunter away, not needing an explanation and not much of an idea on your mind as you shoved the people in your way.
You expected Ran to follow you, after all even if he publicly disrespected you….there was no doubt he was still somewhat infatuated with you.
And that he did, Hearing light but wide footsteps behind you, a hand grabbed your elbow. You tried to struggle, make him let go but alas he wasn’t some bozo who has the arrogance of a thousand men. No, he was someone who had the right to be arrogant, at least in his opinion.
“Are you mad because I kissed her? Is that it?” He asked, turning you around to make you face him.
Slap
“Oh” “Oh indeed” “Oh sh*t”
“You. You’re not allowed to treat me like a damn wh*re.” You frustratedly said, clenching your teeth as you made him let go of you.
You heard another chorus of low curses behind you, but that didn’t matter. If this was what it had to take for you to realize he wasn’t worth it then so be it.
“ You don’t have the right to make me come running back to you like I'm just some idiot hopelessly in love with you. You aren’t all that, Haitani.”
Was your last word to his face, scoffing at the way he just looked at you like he was unbothered, hands on his pockets to act more nonchalant.
You walked away, walking to some corner at a certain distance. You tilted your head back, head on the wall as you slowly slid down.
Bringing your knees close to your face. Losing all of your composure as soon as there was nobody around you that you didn't want to see you broken.
“You aren’t gonna comfort me at all?” You asked, voice hoarse, close to tears but never letting them fall.
“...My brother’s an idiot” He said, face shrouded by darkness as he just looked at you, no hint of pity or sadness detectable in his gaze, but you couldn’t see that.
“I mean… You knew he’d do that. But you still stayed with him… so I guess you had this coming as well, stupid” He spoke, honest thoughts as you agreed with him.
You hated how he was right, how you saw the messy end it would bring but still, you stood by him, hoping that one day Ran would appreciate you, that he’d tell you that you were the only girl he wanted in his life.
What a fantasy those thoughts were, you made yourself remember this was real life, not some novel with a happy ending for the heroine.
“...What a sh*t show…” You uttered your brittle voice sounding as fragile as a newborn kitten.
“...What do I do now?” “....Dunno”
After a few days, you were doing slightly fine, used to Ran not bothering to communicate even after the fiasco. Your mind was silent, it had been silent since a few days ago.
So silent that you almost wished there was a noise to distract you from the pain.
He wasn’t someone who’d easily admit that he was wrong even though he knew for a fact he was.
So you certainly didn’t expect to see a text sent by Ran, in the middle of the night.
Tomorrow. 3 pm, Mckluster mall.
‘Tch’ you derided his message, feeling annoyed by the way he could just order you around like this.
You immediately dropped your phone, just from seeing his contact turning you off, closing your eyes, hoping to sleep your frustration off.
Tomorrow came and no, you did not sleep a wink.
You didn’t know the time, you were too annoyed to even look at a clock, but it was surely afternoon by now.
Skipping breakfast and lunch, you went to your fridge, hoping a snack would cheer you up. Only to hear a knock on your door.
You dreaded that sound, fear crawling through you as you decided to not do anything. Hoping to make it go away.
Though you then heard the sound of someone toying with your locks. ‘F*ck’ you thought to yourself. Sitting on a chair with your front facing and leaning your head on the backrest.
Then the door opened, as expected of a criminal’s apprentice.
Ran stood there, looking as fresh as he was yesterday before he got drenched. “I told you to be ready at 3” He said as he observed your figure that was obviously still messy.
“And who says I’m gonna listen?” You replied, venom lacing your tone as the chilly breeze from the window gave you goosebumps along with his threatening gaze.
Clicking his tongue at you, he walked closer to where you sat.
You watched him wearily, wondering what he was going to do before you got dragged out of your seat.
“Ack- wha-” You gasped, getting dragged around in your own home, ‘how embarrassing’ you struggled in his hold, trying so hard to make yourself free from his grasp.
He pushed you inside of your bathroom, closing the door while you banged and tried to pull it, only for him to hold the doorknob in one hand, opening your closet and looking for what he thought would suit you.
He opened the door before throwing the clothes directly at your face. “Get changed, I’m taking you out.”
You huffed, muttering profanities under your breath. Changing into the clothes as you had no choice.
After quite a few minutes you reluctantly opened the door, spending at least 10 minutes reluctantly holding and letting go of the doorknob.
“Good. let’s go.” Grabbing your wrist once more he led you to a car, it looked as if it was brand new. ‘He definitely stole this’ you watched as he held the door open for you, looking at the license plate that made you confirm your thoughts.
The sound of the car engine revving snapped you out of your trance, you glanced out the window ‘I hope this ends fast’ you thought as you looked at Ran’s side profile. You didn’t want to admit it but damn was he attractive.
You sighed as soon as he noticed you staring, giving you a little side-smirk that you wanted to badly hit...
Arriving at the destination, you didn’t bother fighting with him this time, allowing him to grab open the car door and offering his hand to help you out. Before escorting you inside a traditional but very snobbish looking resto found at the mall.
Food placed in front of you, Ran was just staring at you leaning on his propped up hand.
You were about to call him off, when your phone rang. Both people glanced at your phone, the other with widening eyes while the other was squinting.
You immediately flipped it after ending the call, only for it to ring once more. “Answer it.” Ran muttered, glancing at you with a serious gaze that sent shivers down your spine.
You picked up your phone once more, not before throwing Ran another sour look which just made him chuckle. You weren’t gonna let him make you feel scared like that, no. You had enough of his bullsh*t.
“Yeah, I’ll come get you” Said the man on the phone before the line cut, talking for at least 5 minutes in front of Ran who just quietly observed.
You picked up your bag, all your belongings as you didn’t bother to glance at the untouched food in front of you, along with the man who toyed with your heart.
At least that was before he stood as well, not letting you take 5 steps away from him before he draped himself around you from the back.
“Wait. Let's just stay like this for a moment, please.
I’ve…..You can’t treat me like a nobody.
….I was never this willing before, but could you teach me?”
Your gaze was steady in front of you. “Teach you what?”
“How to not run back to you everytime”
His breath was heavy behind you, It was devastating how he could only pour his real emotions out in front of you like this, only after he had managed to royally f*ck sh*t up at least 5 times.
“....You know, you’re really selfish. You acted like you had a leash on me the entire time, To be more precise, you made it look like I was dancing in the palm of your hand when in fact, you had been dancing in mine. That’s real pathetic Haitani.”
“Call me Ran like you used to… I miss you so much.” his plea went through one ear, before it got stuck in the other.
“Let me go *sshole” You broke free from his hold, walking steadily in front of you, not bothering to look back.
Ran clenched his heavily thumping chest as he watched your back get smaller and smaller.
He sighed before checking his phone’s gps.
Easily tracking down where you were headed, and a familiar person coming near you.
He slowly packed up his things, paying for the meal, not bothering to say anything else to the owner about the untouched meal.
Getting inside his car as he drove to your destination. Not bothering to turn the tinted windows down as he observed your figure with another man.
“Ah, this must be how you felt huh...everytime I turned you down.
I wish you told me, then I would have hugged you without holding back like I did.
….But I needed proof you wouldn’t leave me like the rest.”
Ran breathed a low sigh, staring at the scene with a pitiful expression, before banging on the steering wheel, He then drove himself back home. The feeling of dread and heartbreak heavy in his heart as he didn’t dare look back to the both of you.
He'd been to the damn depths of hell and back, and yet he didn't think nor believe that heartbreak would hurt nearly as badly as this does.
Meanwhile, you glanced at the moving car. A feeling of deep unsettling burden in your heart before someone touched your shoulder.
You looked at the hand before it travelled back to the face, increasing the hurt you felt in your heart, but played it off with your smile.
“I wonder how long it’s gonna take to make you realize you only tried to hold on to me when I was with somebody else.”
You thought to yourself as you glanced at the floor, the heavy feeling of heartbreak settling into you as well.
Wallowing in self-pity. Ran held the bottle of Alcohol near him, at least 3 empty bottles in front of him.
He hated how lonely and ruined he felt right now. This certainly wasn't him and he only had you and himself to blame.
His pride wouldn't let himself think he was in the wrong anyways. He chuckled lifelessly, taking a huge gulp from the bottle.
He heard the front door jingle and open.
The familiar figure of his younger brother greeting him.
“Ah...Rindou.” His tone in shambles as he smiled. To which his younger brother just sighed at and fixed his glasses atop his face with his finger.
Meanwhile lying on his back feeling the tears streaming down his face after he ran out of energy from the despair tantrum and those small sobs that he allowed himself to let out.
“Can I beat you up? Just this once?”
“......mmh”
The chase has now come to an end.
Well, at least to you. No more crying yourself to sleep. Nor checking your phone every second to see if he messaged you.
In the end, He was truly an experience, you were gonna miss it, the memories you had with him.
“No matter where I go, you're someone I can't forget. but please understand that I don’t need you in my life, never again.”
You had sealed up all of the things that reminded you of him and walked away.
Going back to what you both were in the start, strangers. But this time with memories that filled you both with anguish.
Though it seemed like he was still in line for the chase, wanting to covet you once more. Though not in a way you knew he should.
#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers angst#tokyo revengers oneshot#ran x reader#ran haitani x reader
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ONE PIECE! Deep talk, No. 2
a/n: Annyeonghaseyo! (*says that in a poorly done imitation of the voice of Jackson Wang XXD). How are you doing guys! How´s life? Are you happy? Are you sad? Y´all families doing good? I hope that each and every one of you s doing great and gets to experience happy days.
My dear readers and followers, I think I don´t deserve. I decided to work on my “ONE PIECE! Deep talk” and give you a no. 2. Like mentioned before if there is anything you want me to talk about just tell me and I will do my best. No matter if it´s about a character, a scene, an episode, the way the story developed etc. Just give me an input and I will see if there is anything my over thinking brain has to say. Other than that, happy reading!
· In the following I would like to talk about a character I instantly fell in love with as a child. I always thought that he was really cool and super strong in many ways. But next to that I also saw that character as someone really funny and super hilarious for many ways.
· The character I am referring to is Roronoa Zoro aka. “Pirate Hunter” (aka. “The vice captain of the strawhats” since Bartolomeo likes to call him that XD)
· There are some things about Zoro that caught my eye as an adult One Piece watcher and made me like him even more.
· I always saw Zoro as an amazingly well done character by Oda and never actually found any flaws until I realized that some characteristic traits (?) and or habits he has are his flaws, if one thinks about it for some time. But this is not what I want to talk about this time. I will leave it for some other time.
· This time I would like to talk about his loyalty to Luffy.
· Yeah, I know! I know that all of the Strawhats are loyal to him but still it´s a specific something that makes him even more loyal to Luffy in my eyes.
· Starting from his trust in him. Zoro blindly follows his orders without even thinking twice about the after. He runs head first into every situation with him no matter the circumstances.
· Man wanted to fight Kaido with just his crew and the heart pirates and he just went along with it stating that if his captain wanted to fight a yonko he will surly follow him
· In here I would like to mention one specific thing that really made me clap and say “Mans damn right!”. I even would have gave him a standing ovation if it only wasn´t 2 in the morning.
· Remember the “Water 7 Arc”. In which the strawhats had to get a new ship because the going merry was not in the shape to be used anymore but Usopp was against it what was the beginning of a huge drama. Remember that?
· I sadly don´t remember the whole thing anymore but it came that they wanted to leave and take Usopp with them who actually left the crew because of the disagreement he had with Luffy. Luffy was ready to go and get him but Zoro did not let him go. In fact he even said that he would leave the crew if their captain went to get Usopp back just like that.
· I was so impressed by his action and his words. I really couldn´t believe what was happening there.
· He couldn´t accept the fact that Usopp could go against the word of their captain Luffy. Their captain who wanted to become the pirate king and cross the grand line. He did not accept the fact that Luffy didn´t dare do anything about Usopps behavior and resistance.
· Zoro saying that being in a pirate crew is all about trust and loyalty towards the crew mates but most of all the captain. He stated that he dared to go against Luffys orders now and surely will do so in the future too if he does not show him the consequences of his actions. In my opinion Usopps actions were purely out of emotional events in his live, which why I cana absolutely understand Zoros state of mind.
· There were on their way to find the laughtale and live the life of pirates. Pirates that are hated and feared by the world, its people and most of all the government. They weren´t playing pirate like he used to back in his hometown. I really like Usopp because he is a funny and also relatable character but in this arc he made me really mad over his actions.
· Now back to Zoro.
· His words and his state of mind in the episode of 325 (I guess) showed how much he values loyalty.
· He was strictly against Luffy taking him back before he apologized properly to him. Him, Luffy who was his Captain, the man that allowed him to sail with him and his friends he trusted and cared for.
· Another moment that showed his loyalty to his captain was his solo fight with Kuma
· Kuma was sent to come back to the government with the head of Luffy. During the fight between the strawhats Kuma said that the only thing that would make him stop hurting the pirates and the civilians of the Thriller Bark was the strawhats handing him Luffy so he could bring the higher ups his head. Zoro thus got on his knees and offered him his live in exchange of Luffys. Sanji in that moment also made a move but at the end it was Zoro who made a deal with Kuma. He took all of Luffys pain and threw away his live and determination to become the worlds best swordman just so he could become the pirate king.
· “If I can´t even protect my captains dreams then whatever ambition I have is nothing but talk.”
· Maybe it was his position of the first mate that made him go that far but I personally think that it was the fact that he simply cherishes loyalty and of course Luffy a lot.
· Sticking to that I also want to talk about his decision to keep the deal he had with Kuma to himself and not tell others or let anyone know why Luffy was feeling so healthy and good after a tough fight with the pacifista.
· It kinda made me think that his action and the decision he made were a matter of course to him. It kind of made me think that it was something natural to do. To sacrifice his life for his captains. He didn´t wanted any of his crew mates to know what he did because he saw it as a part of his job and duty when he decided to join Luffy on his journey.
· And that was what made me truly fall in love with him. He might not show many emotions or sometimes even any at all but he truly and always cares for his crew.
· Oh and there is something else I would like to drop. For those who watched the movie Gold probably would know or remember that. But the scene in which Tesoro came seeing Zoro telling him that he will die and his crew will never be able to get the amount of money he asked for in exchange for his live. Remember what Zoro said! His words made me so damn proud! He said something like
· “If I don’t believe in them there is nothing to believe in.”
· Anyways, that’s it for know I guess.
#one piece#op#one piece zoro#op zoro#roronoa zoro#zoro#zoro x y/n#zoro x you#roronoa zoro x y/n#roronoa zoro x you#roronoa zoro x reader#one piece analysis#anime analysis#monster trio#one piece strawhats#straw hat crew#strawhat pirates#straw hat zoro#anime opinions#anime imagines#anime theory#anime thoughts
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first love (m)
genre : fluff, angst, light smut
pairing : kim seokjin x reader (f)
word count : 4.6k
warnings/content : mentions of sexual intercourse, mature language, infidelity, separated parents, unresolved past relationship, dad!seokjin, mom!reader
Seokjin doesn't mean to overreact. He knows he shouldn't. Knows you hate it. Knows, because he's been told enough times, that these types of reactions are unnecessary and possibly harmful for a child.
He can't really help it when deep down he knows he was meant to be an actor. Right before his actual birthday, his mother had dreamt of giving birth on a theatre stage, for God's sake.
But his father wasn't into it, given his ambitions, his own growing company and all the promising opportunities he envisioned both for him and for his only son. Therefore Seokjin went to law school, graduated with excellent mentions, followed an accelerated program in business development and managing and joined his father exactly where he was expected.
He isn't exactly complaining.
He likes his job, most of the time, likes the money and luxury that come with it especially and appreciates the work safety.
Now, you can't blame him for being quite the drama queen in his everyday life. All that pent up, buried alive passion for the arts of acting need to express, somehow.
That's what he'd say to you when you used to yell at him for starting weeping loudly in your ear when he'd call you to cancel a date last minute because he couldn't come, instead of just, cancelling it, aplogize, get over it like a normal person.
Or when you'd kick him in the ribs because he'd be all wild gestures and screeching screams when he'd teach your son to ride a bike and he would fall, as he should to learn, making the boy cry even when he wasn't hurt, solely from the projection of his dad's fear.
You're not here to tell him yourself but the glazed, annoyed roll of his son's eyes tells him precisely what you would. Those eyes are the worst. The prettiest he's ever seen. The ones he loves the most. The ones you also wear on your own pretty face.
"Since when?" He has a hand pressed to his chest, preventing a heart attack it seems, gaze wide and alarmed. Timothy sighs.
"A while. They were already together for Valentine's Day-" He explains patiently. That kid is sweet. The way he's slumped over, obviously annoyed to have to be the one telling his dad and having to deal with the consequences but still, he's watching over him with a soft eye, mouth torn in a sympathetic pout. He wouldn't mind his parents to get back together even though he is almost sure it wouldn't be a good idea for the both of you. He's heard tales of dysfunctional families, of parents hurting each other and their children and doesn't want that for any of you. He can't imagine it happen. You two are too good for that. That's probably why you had decided to separate in the first place.
Seokjin is quickly making maths in his head. Not really counting the time but situating himself in that time frame. Where was he at when she was out with this guy? What was he doing?
He may have been in Japan when it started. He remembers a call from you, you were asking him to take Timothy for a couple of days. You sounded embarrassed and he didn't know why but couldn't take the time to investigate, he had a flight expecting him and a conference call waiting to start in a couple of minutes. Important stuff. None of it would have mattered if he had known what you were up to.
"You okay, dad?" Timothy asks, awkward but kind. His mom basically.
"Devastated." Seokjin says with the widest grin on his face. He's not devastated. It'd be ridiculous to be for something absolutely predictable, fair and normal. He's not mad, nor disappointed. You deserve to be seeing people, have them desire you and make you feel good. He wishes it were him but if he can't do that, if you won't let him, he's glad you still can allow someone else to do it.
He's surprised though, he can't lie about that.
Honestly. That's stupid. But he didn't expect one second that you were seeing someone. You never mentioned anything and you didn't look like it. If there's a way you look when you're dating.
He remembers rosy cheeks and short skirts. You were younger.
"You think it's serious?" He asks casually, surprising even himself. His heart is in a turmoil but he showed enough to Timothy, acting like he was half dying, gasping for air and all.
"I don't know. She doesn't want to bring him home yet. Like, introduce him to me. I asked." Timothy, not only is he nice, he is smart. He's thirteen, shouldn't know much about Love and adults' matters yet. He's supposed to still be at that stage when one believes children and adults are two very distinctive race of humans, one that depends on the other and the other having it all figured it out, having reached a certain knowledge and expertise on all things and can't really be wrong on accident.
Timothy knows precisely what his dad would love to hear. And he gives it to him. Not to feed him vain hopes. Not even for this tiny hidden greed to have you back together. Simply because it's the truth and if for once the truth is pleasant to hear, then he should give it.
Seokjin's smile only gets brighter. He shares a glance with his son, a glint winking his way and Timothy rolls his eyes, unable to hide the lift of the corners of his lips.
"Anyway, I heard you won that science fair at school?" Seokjin has already left his seat on Timothy's bed. He's rummaging through his leather bag and Timothy knows what it means. He has a present for him. Seokjin always has a present for him. Most of the time, he can justify it by some event or some success Timothy had encountered. The thing is they don't see each other that often, therefore, almost systematically, something new has come about and Seokjin can explain why he's brought a brand new console, a new laptop, a TV for his room or that one limited edition of this way too expensive branded pair of sneakers.
You used to get really mad at that. You'd say that he shouldn't, that he didn't need to bring him all these expensive stuff because what he'd like (it was a long time ago when Timothy was too young to have his own opinion and you would speak for him) is for his dad to be here more often. You'd say he wouldn't have to buy him shit for any other times than Christmas and his birthday if only he could be here for him. His dad would be his present.
It caused a lot of drama, a lot of crying. You had made sure not to scream, not to be too angry but Timothy felt from the way you squeezed him hard against your bosom that you were very upset. His dad had apologized, had said the most with his eyes only for you to understand. Timothy was staring, trying to get it too because he was involved, wasn't he? But that was one of those adults moments he wasn't allowed to participate in yet.
From then on, his dad wasn't late anymore when he'd set dates with him, his phone would be turned off when they were together and he would text him more often.
It was really nice. Because at first, Timothy felt that maybe if his dad wasn't so present it was because he didn't want to. For some reasons. He thought maybe he was too much of a coward or too nice possibly, to leave you two altogether, to disappear from your lives and start another one somewhere else, one he would have chosen and shaped as he'd want. Turns out Seokjin really appreciated his son and the time he got to spend with him. The more time they spend together, the more Timothy is met with awed eyes and whistling lips, impressed as his dad is by his smartness, his humour and hidden talents. He just was very busy. You explained that to him. That he was passionate by his work, that it required a sacrificial amount of time in one's life, and that he shouldn't ever take it personally because even he loved you and couldn't give you that time.
It's the conversation that led him to think that maybe his parents are meant to be, except they won't because... circumstances.
In any case, no matter how often they meet now, Seokjin still brings him gifts each and every time. The difference is that he has to think of a reason, sometimes make one up to not be struck down by your fury.
"Yes, I did."
"Of course, you did! Cause my son is the smartest." Timothy waits for the moment he says that his brain and the magic fuel filling it all come from him. It doesn't come. Instead, a neat white box is held in front of his face. There's a pretty tie made of ribbons glued in the middle, to hide the picture of what's inside, but there's no doubt that this is an iPhone. He rips the tie off and surprise surprise it's the iPhone 12.
"Mom is going to kill you." Timothy says first, before even thanking him, heart pounding from excitement and face split in two by the wide banana grin.
"Probably." He shrugs, unapologetic.
"Thanks, dad!" Timothy doesn't forget to add, eyes shiny and toothy grin even shinier.
He hopes so. That you're going to be mad. You two are too old to have petty fights now. You don't waste your energy in screaming and finding the worst things to say to hurt his feelings. You just cross your arms under your tits, clench your jaws and adopt that pout on your mouth, eyelids low and eyebrows high, the embodiment of condescendence and you look sexy as hell. He smiles and winks at you, calls you by an old pet name and you're swooning even though you try to hide it. No one is charming like he is, and no one charms you as he does therefore he's not too worried.
His son was just going around with this prehistorical device you dared to call a smartphone. With the broken screen, and the non-functioning selfie cam and the safari app needing a good ten minutes to charge one fucking page -this was deliberate as you wanted him to have a phone to call and text you and not go and lose himself on the internet or whatever. He's almost fourteen though and he's doing a great job at school and is such a good kid at home, he deserves it.
"I know and I don't care. I don't need you to tell me my son is good." You are infuriated. The perfect picture of you he had imagined, the only difference is that, you've just walked out of work, you seem to have had a rough day and your hair is a mess. With the wild locks hanging off of your bun, framing your pretty face, you look even better. "I don't want him to have something so expensive on him, first of all."
"His dad is richer than Cresus, what do you expect?" The cockiness dripping from every pore should suffice to make you explode. Of course, it doesn't. He has that stupid side grin. The one he's got you with in the first place.
"And what about- internet and even just the darn AppStore? He's too young to-"
"Are you worried about porn?" He frowns, you flush. That's precisely one of the things you think about. You don't want him to fall upon stuff he doesn't need to see -in your opinion for a good ten years at least- or start taking interest in social medias where creepy fuckers could hang out.
You flush because apparently, it's a word complicated still to hear from him.
"I've made a parental software installed in it. And a localisation too. Not that we really need it with him but you know."
"Oh." All tension escapes from your torn face and tensed shoulders.
"Oh, wow, my first love is such a good dad." He mocks, voice high, hardly resembling yours, barely biting back a smirk. He even goes as far as swiping the right side of his bangs back, eyes closed, mannerism insufferable.
"Shut up." More flush. A fist to his chest for punishment. Bad idea. Apparently, he went back to the gym.
"You should be nicer because I have something for you too." He says, eyes glancing mischievously as his hand dips in the pocket of his trench coat.
"Well. I don't want it." You cross your arms on your chest again which only serves to push your tits forward to him and he wonders what you're playing at. Probably the same game he plays when he winks and smiles and lifts his eyebrow to you.
"Wait 'til you see it." He sees the moment you realize it's a jewellery box. He reads the instant wild excitement, he catches also the gloomy shadow you try to paint over it because you don't want to accept it. How many times does he need to be told to stop? He won't ever stop.
"You can't buy me, Seokjin." You're eyeing the velour box in his hand, a tiny beautiful red in this large pearly white palm. You want it. You always do. You don't dare uncross your arms though because you know that if you even do something as reckless as taking it in your hand, just to have a look at it, you won't be able to refuse it.
"Of course, I can." More of that smirk. You glare, it makes him wheeze as he does.
You have never ever been able to refuse any of his shiny presents. You're not a gold digger, that's precisely why you felt so guilty all the time, accepting to receive from him things you could never afford for him -or yourself. He's born richer than you'll ever be, he loves to spend it on his loved ones -and on cars and designer clothes- and amongst everything else he loves, he adores covering you in shiny little rocks.
No one has ever worn diamonds the way you do. You look beautiful without them, magnificent with them. They were made to enhance your beauty and you were made to give them sense.
"You're such a dick." You say, tone way too monotonous to still have been in total control of your free will. Your eyes are glued to the shine of the two dainty clear earrings nested in the case. He's holding it open in front of your nose, like a hypnotizing stick. He sees your determination wavers. Your arms have just untied. Your hand is getting close. He smiles already savouring his victory.
"Take them, petal, I don't think your new boy could ever afford them." Your hand freezes mid-track, face falling you look up. He's a bit surprised to see guilt in those eyes. Shame and guilt. Even though, you have the right to see whoever you want. Obviously.
"How-" His head tilts slightly towards the hallway, where the bedrooms and the one Timothy is in, probably playing with his new phone. "Great. Bribing our son into giving you off my personal information."
"I gave him the iPhone after he told me." Seokjin feels the need to precise. His son loves him and he confided for this very reason. He wants to believe. He hopes that it's not because he's worried his dad would have a mental breakdown if he were to learn the news the day his mom would invite him to their wedding or something.
You sigh. You don't know what to say it seems. He doesn't want you to feel upset. He's not going to congratulate you either. He can't.
"Take them."
"He could- he's a doctor, you know." You sound like a petty little girl saying that, fingers aiming for the box but mouth reshaped by contempt.
Thankfully, the mesmerizing glee on your lovely face makes up for this last information.
A doctor.
He snorts, huffs and rolls his eyes.
"Are you really being disdainful over the noblest of all professions?"
"I bet he's not as handsome as I am." Seokjin says, staring away into space in a very Vogue kind of pose.
"And it's relevant because your face saves lives too, right?" You add to his clownery, biting on the smile wanting to take over your face.
"Precisely." You're already putting them on, watching your fingers work in the reflection on the microwave door. He's loving it. One is on, reflecting the light coming from the window, bringing a new sense to your whole stance. You don't look tired anymore. You look very fancy. Sexier than before. Your butt sways a little in excitement when you take a new look at yourself, now beautifully decorated and he's reminded of an idea he once had but never got to realize.
He wanted to have a fashion designer make a garter holder made of tiny diamonds. Solely diamonds. It would fit you just right, maybe a bit tight on you, would dig slightly in the meat of your thighs, enough to look fucking sinful and not too much so it doesn't hurt. He was quite young when he had the idea first and was probably not rich enough to make it happen.
He now owns a few palaces perched on the last stage of skyscrapers in three of the most expensive cities in the world and he would sell one in a beat if it meant he could get that for you and see you wear it for him.
You'd probably end up accepting it and then wear it for your new boy so that's out the question.
He doesn't hesitate when he reaches a hand forward, slip his fingers through the tie holding your hair in a bun and slide it off. You don't even flinch, he's still allowed to do that.
"You look beautiful."
"Thank you." You whisper with a smile, both for the compliment and for the present.
"You went to the hair salon." You nod, forcing yourself not to show your surprise. He doesn't need it to throw himself some flowers, "See? I noticed." He adds with way too much pride for so little.
"Your lenses work, congratulations." Sarcasm is the only answer to his stupidity, you both have figured this out long ago.
"Is he nice?" Seokjin can't help but ask. He doesn't want to know too much about him. Kind of hopes that it won't be necessary as the guy won't last too long. But he can't resist his curiosity.
"Yes." You say without much of a hesitation. "Last week, he took me to this nice French restaurant in Songpa." You tell, eyes looking away, a bit pensive, mindlessly playing with one strand of your hair. Your face is taken over by that air. Seokjin realizes then that you really like him.
"I used to take you to very nice restaurants all the time, remember?" He's just messing around now. He knows it's not that relevant. Knows it won't get him higher in your regard,
"And I would spend half the date with the waiter while you'll have yours with your phone. I do remember." Especially given you don't recall your common past the same.
He does remember now that you mention it. His memory has been awfully selective and mainly, what he could picture when he thought about those times, is how beautiful you looked, how much he wanted you and felt like even sitting right next to you, he couldn't satisfy that need, was missing you even if you were right there, and the mind-blowing sex too. The later probably happening because he owed to make it up to you because indeed, his job was on the dates too and you hated that. He remembers the late mornings, the lazy ones, you'd make him carry you on his back because your legs and your hips hurt too badly.
"Ouch!" Toppling over, hand on his bosom where it actually really hurts, he yelps in agony, pretending to have been shot. You giggle and slap his shoulder, pester him to stop when you both hear Timothy ask from his room if everything's okay. You'd think he would know by now that his dad is just a clown whose shenanigans shouldn't be taken seriously.
"Are you seeing someone these days?" What a shame, Seokjin really thought for once he'd be solely cool and collected and handsome. Instead, he can feel his ears start to burn in embarrassment, walks a few steps back, pretending to want to throw a glance through the window when really, he'd do anything to not have see you notice.
"Someone?" He huffs. "Some three, actually some four or five. You know how the ladies get with me-" He sounds dumb as hell. It suffices to make you laugh. You've always laughed at his antics. Even when you were going through complicated times, like the pregnancy and the soon to follow break up, he'd try to dry your cheeks and lighten your gaze, heartbroken as he was to see you like that, and it would always work.
"And I know how bad you are with maths." He nods, doesn't look at you, simply stares at the shiny tip of his italian shoes. "You should call me sometimes, Jin." You don't need to tell him, he knows. You say that to him almost every single time. It's just you being kindhearted, the way you've always been. But first, he hates the idea that somehow, to some degree, it's a pity hand you're holding out for him. And secondly, he knows he'll fuck up if he calls.
He won't be able to talk about his job or politics or what's on the dumb tv these days. He'd probably start by asking what you're wearing and end it all by serenading you. What a bad idea. "You don't ever call, only Tim. Which is fine but-" He is lonely, he does miss you, but he's not that stupid. "I miss you too, you know." You look awfully sincere when you say this. There's still a sad shade to your eyes and he suspects it comes from you worrying about him rather than you simply wanting him more in your life. Maybe it's there for both reasons. He can't be mad at you for caring about him still, can he? Ultimately, it's sweet. It's not your fault he tends to be a loser in his very personal life.
He wouldn't know who he is trying to comfort when he strides forward and place a kiss on your cheek. The other one he's cradling in his palm feels warmer the longer he touches it. He doesn't let it go once he backs up and away. You're looking up to him with your eyes looking all round and childish. Quiet and in expectancy. You look like you do when you would wait for him to kiss you. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and he smirks.
"Expecting me to kiss you?" He asks with an eyebrow raised high. Pretend judgment in his tone, even remonstrance. As if. "How scandalous, when you already have a boyfriend." You know he's just kidding and he can tell that. He wouldn't play with that if he wasn't sure. He doesn't want to hurt your feelings, make you feel wrong or bad in any way. He loves you too much for that. You could let him kiss you and he wouldn't hold you accountable for it. Therefore he does. Because he's dying to since the last time it happened a couple of weeks back. And when your own lips welcome his, with that much willing and tenderness, he suspects you've had too.
He doesn't allow it to go too far. He thought you would stop him, at some point, but you don't. He's the one pulling away when his tongue, instinctively, means to reach out for your own. He knows what comes after that, and what comes after that and after and after. And even if you transpire guilt and shame, he can sense in the way your eyes stare into his that you would have let it all happen.
He's not lacking in desire, he hopes you know that. Honestly, since earlier, and that random flash of the diamond garter holder, his brain is half clouded by the thought of your thighs and his face buried in between them. You used to make the most delicious sounds, pulling at the root of his hair and chasing your high with your hips. Also now that he's met your mouth again and he envisioned what could happen if he just let go, he can't help but think about that dresser in your room. The gigantic thing you wanted him and Timothy to put together as sort of a father and son enterprise to bound or whatever - he ended up paying a guy to do it for them and they played Mario Kart instead but you don't need to know that. Point of the matter is, that massive dresser has a massive mirror on its door and that massive mirror sits perfectly in front of your bed. And all he can think about is how bad he'd like to fuck you on your bed while you'd watch yourself in it. He'd pull back your hair, hold in tight in his fist like he knows you love so you could see your own cute face while his cock would reshape your cunt to its fitting, all this with the pretty little shiny earrings adorning your ears.
Fuck, what a concept.
And it is to say that right now, he knows, you'd let him. He's not that wicked though. He feels your too weak to resist him today therefore he's not even going to chance it. He doesn't want you to do something you'd hate yourself for afterwards.
"I should go, I still have documents to send for a new contract before-" He takes a look at the expensive watch heavy on his wrist, you roll your eyes. "Half an hour ago, great." He offers you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes no matter how hard he tries before he's off to the hallway, giving you his broad back. "I'm going to say bye to Tim."
"It's just- like that, Seokjin." The words are pretty badly chosen. They don't mean much. Seokjin still gets it though. He can picture you behind him, shrugging your shoulders and tilting your head to the side. It doesn't mean much.
"I know, petal. Don't worry." He throws over his shoulder, faux lightness in his tone even though his heart feels raw. It doesn't mean enough, is more accurate. This kiss like every single one of your shared looks and words and bickering and touches, they all mean that you still fit perfectly good together. However, it's not enough because somehow, someday, you came to the conclusion that you were not meant to be. He's confused as to why and how he agreed with you then. Here's the main reason why he never calls you.
When Timothy looks up from his new phone, wearing your eyes and his smile, he feels a whole new range of pain affected to his sensitized heart.
How can you not see that you're meant to be?
A/N: Happy Lunar New Year :) this little thingy was inspired by Arsène Lupin and the relationship between Assane and Claire for those who watched it! I don’t know if i translated well the alchimy and unfightable attraction and connection they still have even after having seperated. ANYWAY, hope you all are doing fine, hope you liked this, LET ME KNOW what you thought, tell me about your day, your resolutions if you have any, what’s the weather like where you at etc lmao xoxo
PS: stay tuned for a new upcoming series i’m quite excited about ~~
#btswriterscollective#thekimlinenet#ksmutclub#bts fluff#bts smut#bts angst#seokjin fluff#seokjin smut#seokjin angst#bts scenario#seokjin fanfic#bts fanfic#seokjin scenario
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“’...her mother Andromeda was my favorite cousin,’ said Sirius, examining the tapestry closely.” (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix)
in 1953, the second little Black girl was born. two-year-old bellatrix peered into the crib, chin already learning how to hold itself in the haughty manner her mother’s did. later, the tiny form in the cradle would learn to toddle about behind bella, following her as faithfully as her sister would ever follow voldemort.
bellatrix was her father’s daughter, and narcissa was her mother’s, but andromeda felt always caught in-between. she did not have the fair hair and dainty features of narcissa, nor the strong chin and determined build of bella. the day she stopped following bellatrix around, she learned that loyalty sometimes comes only so long as mindless obedience follows. without her little sister constantly admiring her and doing whatever she asked, bella’s proud little smile turned to a smirk whenever andromeda was near. they remained friends still for a long time after, but andromeda’s place in bella’s heart had fallen, and it would never find such high purchase again.
narcissa followed neither, imitating instead everything their mother wished her to be. andromeda could not remember a time her sister hadn’t worn gloves, mindful always of her pretty little palms. she acted out occasionally, it was true, but her fits of temper learned from her father’s stern gaze, and she became a little lady instead, spoiled and proper and everything their aristocratic family could have hoped for.
bellatrix was a leader; their father claimed he’d known it from her first wail, for even then her tone had been commanding. she led andromeda and narcissa through all matters, teaching them (though neither kindly nor patiently) how to size up one’s enemies and social prey, which families were to be associated with and which were to be ignored, who could be preyed upon and how to get away with it. narcissa practiced eagerly the subtler arts of the social games they waged against other children, while bellatrix wielded their family name as her brash blade. when that was not enough, there was always her anger, which crackled out of her like fireworks against anyone who dared challenge her. andromeda was never sure if bella meant to use her magic, or if it was like the times her own untamed magic sometimes shot out without warning.
in 1959, a little Black cousin was born. andromeda’s aunt named him sirius, and he was every bit as willful a child as bella must’ve been, once upon a time. when a screaming regulus arrived two years later, however, sirius took the mantle of brother more willingly than bella had of sister. he protected that little baby as watchfully as any two-year-old could, and andromeda loved them both.
bellatrix went marching off to school, but she did hug her sisters tightly before boarding the train. she squeezed andromeda’s hand and gave narcissa a small trinket, though she said little at the time. they watched the first of their little band ride off into a new beginning, and the two sisters went back home to tears in the night that neither would ever speak of.
bella changed, but in many ways, she stayed the same. andromeda sometimes wondered how everyone else was always so surprised by her later. the darkness in her sister had lived there forever; it blossomed, of course, but not from nowhere. she was no more unkind than she’d ever been to her sisters, not yet, but ambition was raking its iron claws through her embers and stoking up a fire.
a four-year-old sirius told andromeda she was his favorite. she laughed but hushed him, listening always for the creak of the floorboards beneath her aunt’s heels. one never knew where walburga might lurk in that ancient, miserable house.
two years later, andromeda no longer had to be left behind. she bought her school things and chose a pet and bounded up the train right behind bella.
a cold hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. a flash of black eyes, cold calculation and irritation- and then bella relaxed slightly, as though nothing had happened at all.
“we don’t sit together,” she said, releasing her grip on andromeda. she showed her sister what people she should sit with, and she was gone.
another two years passed, with bella’s attention clearly no longer so focused on her as it had been before hogwarts. but that was fine; andromeda made a few friends and learned to be a good slytherin, though already the Black name had begun to chafe up against her. narcissa joined them, and it seemed as though she became the most popular girl in her year overnight. bella had her gang of slytherins that whispered already of dark marks and vengeance, and though bella had made the invitation- several times- andromeda had no interest in joining.
eventually, bella left school and entered into the lestrange family. andromeda was the maid of honor, and for the first time in years, bella looked at her like she loved her. both knew bella did not love her husband, but for a few minutes at the reception, bella and andromeda whispered to each other at a back table, and all felt as it had been before.
sirius would be making his own trip to hogwarts before long. already, he clamored for every detail he could wring from andromeda. pranking bella and narcissa had its fun, but he loved most the stories andromeda spoke of in her letters. they’d sent her owl back and forth since he was eight, and soon, he told her, it would be his letters going to her from hogwarts.
it was her seventh year before she knew it, and a muggleborn named ted finally put the feeling she’d had as long as she could remember into sharp focus. she knew her family was wrong, but she had a reason to fight now- and she did.
1972, the last time she saw her sisters; it was the night before her wedding. the tonkses were kind people, and it was to be a muggle marriage- she’d slip smoothly into his life and his world and his family, if only her own would let it go uninterrupted. she hadn’t seen bella or narcissa since graduating hogwarts, for she’d returned to ted’s home rather than her own after that. it had been a peaceful year, and the couple had since moved out into their own flat- nothing fancy, but ted’s job was steady and her own work felt worthwhile, and they were happy. she and sirius sent their letters, and he seemed happy too, finding his own home within the gryffindors.
still, it felt like she’d been waiting to hear that crack! in the next-door park ever since she’d left. andromeda stepped out into the night and watched two figures approach, and it felt to her that no time had passed at all.
both clutched tightly the wedding invitations she’d sent them, though bella’s had clearly been through more wear. a dark ruby glittered on her ring finger, so dark it was almost black, as her knuckles whitened.
“dromeda,” narcissa breathed, as they reached her. for a moment, andromeda thought her sister would embrace her, but she remained by bella’s side.
“this is enough,” bella snapped, her harsh whisper barely an effort to be courteous of the neighbors. “this has gone on long enough- come home, andromeda.”
andromeda steeled herself- but narcissa spoke again, gentle. “I’ve spoken with Father- all will be forgotten, if you’ll only come with us. they’ve been telling people you’ve been abroad-”
“no, cissy,” andromeda said, firm. “I have not been abroad, and I am not coming ho- going back.
bella glared. those eyes could burn holes into ordinary wizards, but andromeda was not just any witch. she had seen the fury behind those black eyes and knew all too well the harsh consequences of their direction, but she stood taller than them now.
the invitation was thrust into her hand, but the bony hand seized beyond andromeda’s palm to clutch around her wrist, just as it had all those years ago. bella jerked her sister roughly forward, revealing to her and narcissa the engagement ring gleaming against her skin.
“a common sapphire?” bella laughed; it grated against andromeda’s ears. “this is what you leave us for? a pauper mudblood and his-”
“let go, bella.” controlling herself, andromeda shook off her sister.
bellatrix’s face knotted up; she did not give second chances lightly, and andromeda knew already that she would never be given a third. instead, she turned to narcissa.
of course cissy cried. cissy always cried. it was easy to get her way like that, round blue eyes filling up and that perfect little pucker- but andromeda knew her too well. that night, however, cissy did not cry as she did for their father. she simply stared, tears flowing down her cheeks as she took no notice.
too soon, bella was gripping narcissa’s arm and turning on her heel, never breaking her glare for a moment until she’d vanished into the night.
she did not tell sirius. he wrote of regulus and three wild young friends, and she spoke of the wedding he had not been allowed to attend and the baby that arrived all too soon the next may. he promised to find a way to meet little nymphadora, but she gave stern warnings against it. in the Black family, one was not allowed mistakes simply for being thirteen and foolish.
he did meet dora eventually, and loved her as easily as he’d loved regulus. she was delighted by the dark waves of hair falling around his face, and promptly changed hers to match.
he came to visit for easter holidays every year, telling his parents he was staying at hogwarts. she heard about his separation from the family when he sent an owl from a friend’s house. it stung for a moment, that he had not come to her, but it was easier to drag an unruly heir from a disgraced relative than a family like the potters. what surprised her was that they never tried; firstborn sons were not an investment that pureblood lines gave up easily. things at home must have been far more dire than he’d ever let on to her.
their uncle alphard’s death gave andromeda and sirius each a small inheritance. finally, andromeda felt that she could breathe, not having to worry about securing nymphadora’s magical education. sirius had the means to move out on his own, and he chose an apartment not far from his cousin’s.
he told andromeda in quiet words what had happened to his brother. he never spoke of regulus again after that.
she watched him and his friends join the war. she and ted couldn’t risk it, not with little dora needing them, but she checked up on sirius every week in disguise. the times were dangerous and she could no longer bring nymphadora to visit, and he used his animagus form rarely, not wanting the death eaters or the ministry to make the connection. in the short hour-long visits they snatched up, they spoke over tea of the years they would spend after the war.
it had taken their siblings from both of them. as far as blood went, they were the last real family they had to each other, and they clung to futures where sirius could take nymphadora shopping for sweets and magical trinkets.
november of 1981, remus lupin turned up at her door. the war was over and voldemort had fallen, but the headline of the paper he gave her with shaking hands told a story she could not comprehend.
the sunrises of those tea-steeped futures died that day. sirius was locked away, and nymphadora grew up with only her father’s family.
at hogwarts, dora was fed the myths and lies of the traitor sirius black and his whole death eater family. she was taught to hate every single one, and andromeda did not know how to tell the story of the cousin who had railed against them all until the day he hadn’t.
in 1974, ted called from the garden, amused by something he’d found. she squinted through the window, peering through the evening’s darkness.
and standing among the peonies, a large black dog stared back.
#sirius black#andromeda black#bellatrix black#narcissa black#regulus black#andromeda tonks#ted tonks#nymphadora tonks#alphard black#bellatrix lestrange#narcissa malfoy#black family#black sisters
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Behind-the-scenes interview with the cast of “Queens of the Horde”
Everyone is milling around the backstage area being busy or trying to look busy. Double Trouble steps up to the camera.
"Greetings, dear audience. This is Double Trouble speaking to you for the Tumblr exclusive backstage documentary of the She-Ra fanfic 'Catra and Glimmer - Queens of the Horde.'. which you can read at Bagge's page of archive of our own."
They eye the camera with a serious expression.
"Be warned - this documentary will contain mild spoilers."
They relax their demeanor and take a step back, indicating the set around them.
"We have just wrapped up the first act - 'Queens of the Broken Thrones' - and everyone here is preparing for some well deserved rest as we go into production of the second part - 'Queens of No Land' - which should start updating in about a month or so."
"Probably more if the author keeps getting distracting by kissy oneshots instead of working on this fic," Mermista says with an eye-roll as she walks by the camera, slurping on a soda.
Double Trouble waves at the camera to follow and jogs after her.
"ah, Mermista. You're fresh out from the 'princess council' scene. Could you tell as a bit of your character motivation?"
Mermista stops and slurps thoughtfully on her drink. She looks between Double Trouble and the camera.
"No," she concludes eventually and strolls on.
"I could tell you about my..." Perfuma begin from behind the camera, but Double Trouble has already caught sight of someone else and hurries on.
"Bow, my boy!" they cries. "How is the production going so far in your opinion?"
Bow puts down a box of castle furniture props he has been carrying. He gives the camera a warm smile.
"Everything's going really well. The entire cast is doing their best and we are all excited for the response we got."
"Can you tell us a bit more about your part of the story?" Double Trouble asks.
Bow chuckles a bit nervously.
"I, of course only has a small role, which is partly referencing the canon scene from the episode 'Fractures', because..."
"Because the author is a hack?" Double Trouble asks helpfully.
"Because the author wants to roots the narrative firmly in canon," Bow diplomatically corrects. "Sadly, that means me and adora have to leave Glimmer behind at her lowest point, which in this story has even more disastrous consequences for her than in the show proper." He looks dejected for a moment, but then he brightens up.
"But I'm sure love will win out and everyone will have a happy ending."
"The author has in fact only promised a happy ending for Glimmer and Catra," Double Trouble leers. "Does that worry you?"
"Of course not," Bow says, perhaps a fraction of a second to fast. "I trust Glimmer fully to do the right thing."
"I for one don't like my part of the story," adora mutters and enters the view. "Glimmer deserves better than being left alone after I yell at her."
"adora..." Glimmer says with placating voice as she trails after the blonde woman. "You know those hurtful things we say to each other is just acting."
"and how about the flirty things you say to Catra?" Double Trouble quickly asks. "are those 'just acting' too?"
Glimmer turns a shade more pink and fumbles for answers.
"Sparkles totally has the hots for me," Catra smirks.
"Shut up..." Glimmer mutters as her blushing intensifies.
"ah, Catra!" Double Trouble says. "How did you like your first part of the story?"
"Too mopey," Catra says without hesitation. "and I wanted more scenes being badass. I could totally have kicked Sparkles butt in our fight."
"I should have kicked your furry butt," Glimmer protests. "I had the Moonstone upgrade and everything."
"Only thing that stopped me from crushing you outright," Catra brags.
"Nuhuh," Glimmer disagrees with a smug smile. "You totally love me and wouldn't want to hurt me."
"D'awwwwwww!" Bow says with hearts in his eyes. Catra gives him an annoyed look.
"What about you, Glimmer?" Double Trouble asks. "The author has made no secret of your emotional and psychological development being a big driving force of the story. How do you feel that was captured in this first part?"
"Well," Glimmer says, clearly happy for the question. "The complexity of my character requires quite a bit of nuanced reflection of the many-faceted, um, facets of my personality. In this first part both my desperation and ambition is on full display, as well as a dark undercurrent perhaps surprising from such a sweet girl as myself."
She smiles, just a tad smugly.
"Please, Sparkles," Catra laughs. "You're as threatening as a cupcake."
"Dare to repeat that, Furball?" Glimmer hisses and summons a ball of lighting. Catra stick out her tongue and ducks away.
"How about your emotional journey?" Double Trouble prompts.
Glimmer shoots Catra one last, angry look, but closes her hand so the ball of lighting disappear.
"Well, as you know, this is the point in canon when I - as the author likes to point out - get all the powers I thought I wanted, which leads to me taking down the Horde only to be abducted together with Catra by Horde Prime. In this fic, thanks to Shadow Weavers plotting, that doesn't happen. Thus, me and Catra are stuck together and forced to figure out a way forward on our own."
"and just what way will that be?" Double Trouble leers. "any hints you can give us about the upcoming part?"
Glimmer and Catra looks at each other.
"The kitty is totally going soft for me," Glimmer smirks.
"Sparklebutts is scared of bugs," Catra leers.
They glare at each other.
"according to the budget, this next part is very light on actors," Double Trouble interjects. "Which means that the two of you will have to carry most of the drama yourself. any thoughts on that."
"It helps that I'm such a talented character actor," Glimmer says with false modesty.
"Eh, we mostly bounce lines off each other," Catra shrugs. "Not much action but it's cheap."
"and any word on your - ah - relationship development?" Double Trouble asks.
Catra and Glimmer looks at each other. They wink.
"You'll just have to wait and see," Glimmer smirks.
"Bah, you're no fun," Double Trouble pouts and strolls on. They come to a black set chair sitting by itself. In it, Shadow Weaver reads a book while sipping a mug of tea.
"Shadow Weaver!" Double Trouble proclaims. "Our big bad. Care to tell us a bit of your character."
She gives them a cold look.
"My role is a badly written cliché, as is customary for this sort of cheap melodrama. although my mentorship of Micah's daughter is handled in a passably competent fashion, the nuances of my character and my motivation is clearly beyond the feebleminded grasp of the author, and ultimately the young queen's journey for power - which could have made for a somewhat interesting narrative - is traded for some sort of soppy paperback romance. Even as such, Catra is horribly miscast and clearly a more worthy romantic partner should have been considered for the role."
"I didn't take you for shipping war participant!" Double Trouble leers. Shadow Weaver simply rolls her eyes and returns to the book. Double Trouble turns to the camera again.
"and there you have it folks. We are all happy with how the first part turned out, and we look forward to the second installment in October. Bagge is happy to take any questions you might have - just send an ask or direct message."
They smile, a wide smile.
"and scene."
#spop#She-Ra#Glimmer#Catra#Glitra#fanfic#Writer's Corner#Just for fun#Queens of the Horde#Catra and Glimmer - Queens of the Horde
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Sabotage
Pairing: Mob!Henry x Reader
Summary: Things will always fall into place with him.
One shot.
.......................................................................................................
Chaos.
Phones ringing, voices yelling, minions running around.
everything was.. well, EVERYWHERE! You didn’t know what you were doing anymore. Maybe this was it, this was the bloody end.
So this is how you go down. So much for being your own boss. Maybe everyone was right, you cannot do this. You were made to serve your husband.
Cook, clean, dry for him and when he felt like, bent over like a bitch in heat. That was your fucking job, not this high end firm that was burning up in flames.
Damn it.
You are going to swear off of interns. They are a bloody liability with no consequences over their heads. How could you not see this coming?
They fucking stole from the accounts! Never in a million years would you have assumed those meek rats would have the audacity to touch a penny.
But that’s what they are- damn rats.
Now you had a big ass hole in the accounts and before you could do any damage control, word spread in the market like a fucking STD.
What will you tell your clients? Hell, what will you say to the press hounding outside of the office building? You had to come up with something, and something good, SOON.
You looked around your office, as if this was the last time you are going to be in it.
You felt like a fallen queen on the checkered black and white marble floor, not knowing her next move, scared and parched for mercy.
This was the office of your dreams. Every tiny artifact, every angle of the furniture had a purpose.
The miniature gold bull you gifted yourself for closing your first big account.
The picture of your grandmother in her office, ambition wrinkled all over her face.
The desk, angled so that you had an eye on the entire office.
And the sofa, well placed for comfortable long meetings and late-night camping you often did.
Well, not just for camping.
The thought made you clear your throat, you cannot think about it right now. But who were you kidding, he was always on your mind. Even when your life was crumbling, all you wanted was to get lost in that blue eyed monster.
As you collected yourself, you heard a commotion above all that yelling and chaos.
Him.
You couldn’t miss it anywhere, it was ingrained deeper than your DNA. But what was he doing here? We never met in public, it was too dangerous, he once said.
You couldn’t deny the pull any longer and your feet did the work for you. As you reached the lobby, there he was.
Chest heaving, eyes glaring at anything that moved. Your deadly husband, Mr. Henry Cavill, dressed to nines in your favourite blue three piece.
“Mr. Cavill-”
“We had a date, Mi amor and YOU didn’t show up. You know I don’t tolerate being ignored, much less by my .. WIFE.”
He called me his wife. We don’t address each other like that.
Panic set in as I could hear gasps and the office suddenly stopped. The time seemed to have fucking stopped, and I did not know why he was doing this.
“I.. I.. Ahem, can we talk in my office, Mr. Cavill?” I glared at him.
The next thing I know, his lips are on me, holding me in a death grip he is so famous for. I couldn’t help but forget where we are, and moaned, heart on fire. He broke the kiss, his forehead on mine, and he whispered, “lead the way, amor.”
I was in a trance wrapped up in his arms, all the panic, fear and sorrow simply washed away. Taking his hand, I walked towards my office when he stopped abruptly.
“ Everyone, get out.”
No movement.
He turned, removing his glock from the waistband, “I don’t like repeating myself.”
The office was empty in less than a second.
I couldn’t help but giggle at the scene.
I would never get used to his MO, as he liked to call it. Every time I saw him, my heart gushed with so much love, it surprised people when I was untouched by fear they usually felt.
As we entered my office, he took me straight to the desk and sat me on it. A knee between my legs, he placed his palm on my cheek and just kept looking at me.
“I’m sorry I could not join you baby, I know tonight was important for your new deal.”
He just hummed, as his eyes raked over me. His palm moved to slide my dress up my thighs till it bunched over my ass. He moved to remove his jacket and removed his cufflinks, folding up his sleeves.
“Say something Henry. Are you mad at me?”
“Never when I can see your cunt leaking like a faucet for me.”
And with that, he slapped my pussy so hard, I almost yelped.
“I am just disappointed that you hide from me.”
Our eyes locked, mine teary and his, well they held that promise etched at the altar.
I’ll always protect you.
I will always be there, even if you cannot see me.
Just look to the shadows, and you’ll find me standing.
Silent, but firm.
Just like you want me.
I blinked as I came back to the present.
Pulling on his tie, I brought him back to me.
“I could never hide from you. You are a piece of my soul Hen, I..”
Words died on my tongue as he plunged his into my inviting mouth, letting the moment talk for itself. My hand went to his belt, removing the barrier between our union.
Much like his tongue, his thick cock plunged into me at one go. Pain seared through me but he didn’t stop. My Henry was many things, a great chef, master strategist, flawless shot, an enticing mobster, but patience was not on his tiny list of virtues.
He liked giving it hard, and me? Well, obviously I liked taking it harder. So that’s what I did. Spreading my legs wider, hopelessly hoping he might fit better.
Pushing me down on the desk, he went harder. His eyes on mine, face contorted with all sorts of emotions, hands groping my tits over the dress, he looked like Hades all set to conquer Athens.
My eyes rolled to the back of my head when he put his fingers on my clit, rubbing it with abandon, none of us able to form words.
The room was filled with his grunts, roars and fucks, my whimpers giving them company.It soon turned into screams when my beast pinched the clit hard, and choked the life out of me.
“Jaan, please don’t stop!”
“Ah, HARDER baby!”
“Ooomph, keep going Jaan!”
Suddenly I was sputtering a string of words and that only made Henry slap my tits harder than ever before.
Fuck, I loved this beast. He was mine.
Mine.
I didn’t have to tell him I was close, he pulled out and went on his knees, eating my cunt like he’d been starved for decades.
Oh shit it was coming.
“Fuck Jaaan”
It was all over his face. My juices coating this God’s face while he shamelessly lapped it all up.
“Mm, delicious as always, amor. Taste yourself.”
I licked my juices off his face while he was bent over me. Sighing, I was about to move, when he dived in again, “Where do you think you’re going? Not done yet, baby!”
Smirking, I locked him in with my knees, “Bring it on, Hades.”
That name always made his cock twitch, and the dance began again. My cervix was on fire, as he kept hitting it right.
“Give me your seed, Oh Gods, yes just like that Henn!”
I came undone twice more before he even came close to his climax.
“I don’t want you to hide from me anymore amor. You know I’d kill for you!”
My nails raked over his arms as I held on to my dear life, only able to nod.
“I want the good, bad and the ugliest you can throw at me baby. I want all of you. I want your cunt, ass, that pretty little mouth and your soul, you hear me?” he growled.
“Jaan, please.”
“Please what, slut? You want my cum? You think you earned it?”
“I am yours, you get all of me. Fill me up, Jaan.”
Yanking on my hair, he pulled me up to him and bit hard on my lower lip as he came, taking me with him and roaring like the devil he is. “I fucking love you!”
Breathing hard, coming down from the blood rush, our foreheads touched.
“I got them.”
“Did you hear me? I got them amor.”
“Mm? Who?” eyes closed, my brows furrowed.
He left for the washroom, and came back to clean us up. Fixing my dress, he held me against him and said, “Bring them in!”
My cheeks heated, thinking that someone heard us go at it like rabbits and I tried to hide my face in his chest but he won’t have any of it.
Hands on my hips, holding tight, we stood facing the door when Taylor, our bodyguard came in.
I was confused. I was about to look at Henry in question when two men and a woman were thrown at my feet.
Them.
The bloody interns! Covered in literal blood this time.
Hands bound, crying.
How, what, when..?
I felt his breath on my neck as he kissed behind my ear, “Merry Christmas, love. The money is back in your accounts. Fucking rats were planted by a rival, the audacity.”
Speechless.
“How did yo-”
“Like I said, shadows. Always there.”
“Oh, Jaan!” I turned to kiss him, his hand squeezing my ass in return.
He broke the kiss, looked at the crying culprits, stepping on one of their hands, “And now that the word will spread you’re my wife, these roaches won’t dare come within a 50 miles radius of you.”
And there it was, that million dollar smile filled with warmth, only for me.
Only me.
Mine.
In that moment, the befallen queen was not alone.
The King had arrived.
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Jaan: commonly used between couples in India, means life.
@madbaddic7ed @henrythickcavill @toomanyfandomsshreya
#henry cavill#henry cavill fanfiction#one shot#cavillry#mob!henry cavill#reader#cavill thirst#henry thoughts#TheChurchOfCavill
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Me ranting about Little Women 2019 (part 1: Laurie, cause damn this movie has a lot of problems/disappointments)
So, I watched again this movie, because Christmas. This movie was actually my introduction to Little Women. Up until the first trailer appeared, I had no idea this story existed. And I loved the movie, I really did. It was amazing!
However, as I began reading about the book and then myself reading it, I realized, it’s not as perfect as some people think. Let’s start with Laurie.
Laurie as the OG ally, are you shitting me?!!?
Greta and Timothée went on and on about this in the press tour. Let me tell you, it’s such a misinterpretation and basically bad reading. It so plainly written that Laurie thinks like every other boy of that time. So, if Greta thought of Laurie as an ally after reading the book, she just did selective reading.
He is friends with the girls, that doesn’t mean he has progressive values. When I saw the movie I was like what a great guy, he’s so perfect!. On the contrary, not only is he not an ally, he is quite misogynistic! He’s super flawed! Laurie has other friends besides Jo, he actually is very popular and even brings his friends from college to town. He’s spoiled and privileged and acts as such. He mocks at girls with Jo. He loves flirting with every girl that comes across, but then he also thinks of them as fast and rejects them.
Between ourselves, Jo, some of the girls I know really do go on at such a rate I’m ashamed of them. They don’t mean any harm, I’m sure, but if they knew how we fellows talked about them afterward, they’d mend their ways, I fancy.’
So he wants to flirt with all the pretty girls, but then he wants a saint as wife?? I say fuck him! When Jo rejects him, he becomes a man-whore. And when Amy scolds him, he is so annoyed that he leaves. He’s kind of a jerk to Amy the first time he’s with her at Nice. He expects all women to be kind to him and pet him because Jo broke his heart. He also refuses to give Amy credit for her advice, until it’s too obvious he has fallen for her.
So, no. He’s not perfect, but he has potential to be a great man. He has everything in his favor, money, talent, beauty and health. Amy knows it and that’s why she pushes him so much in Valrosa.
Laurie never plays or talks about music
My sister was so confused when Laurie said he was writing an opera, because he never express his love for music in the whole freaking movie! I knew it, because I read a few spoilers. Greta moved the girls’ castles in the air and mixed it with the Christmas scene, hence Laurie couldn’t be there. Let’s be honest, the main characters in this movie (and in the book, to me) are Jo, Amy and Laurie. That scene would have been perfect to highlight why they are connected to one another.
The three of them had ambitions larger than society’s expectations. They wanted to be famous artists. It would have also served as a connecting point between Amy and Laurie, because unlike Jo, they did gave up their castles or rather transformed them into something else and, dare I say, better suited for them. It also shows a contrast between households. While Orchard house is a space where the girls can express freely their artistic personalities, Mr. Laurence doesn’t approve of Laurie’s musical side and prevents him from playing piano.
But it would also serve to contrast him with the girls. Laurie barely tries and quickly realizes he doesn’t have what it takes. It contrast how privileged Laurie is, that he can go on effortlessly about life, because he is a wealthy man. Meanwhile, Jo and Amy have to work hard and make sacrifices to pursue their crafts.
And what a beautiful scene would have been when Amy and Laurie become each other muses.
Laurie has no arc, he’s just the love interest!
What the hell! Together with Amy, Laurie gets the best character arc in the book. But in this movie, you barely get a grasp of his personality. If Greta would have showed him as a amateur composer, she would have been able to show his growth. There’s a beautiful moment in the book where Laurie realizes he’s just prolonging his suffering instead of feeling actual pain towards Jo’s rejection. He puts Jo’s letter on a drawer with the ring she gave him and moves on. Not only that, he realizes that Amy is right and he ought to do something productive in life. He craves hard and earnest work. Even Mr. March is proud of him when they get back to Concord.
He also has deep identity problems and issues with his grandfather. Plus he goes from selfish, privileged, childish young boy, to matured, hard-working and altruistic man.
The problem was that Greta altered so much the 1869 timeline, that she couldn’t do all of that. As a consequence, Laurie ends up characterized as a trophy husband at the service of Jo and Amy.
So there it is. If you haven’t read the book, please do. Laurie is so much more than what the movie tells us. He’s also struggles a lot to overcome his flaws, so when he finally decides to be a better person, you’re so proud of him.
One more thing, Laurie’s physical appearance
Don’t get me wrong. I love Timmy. I seriously can’t help but smile every time I saw a photo of him. He looks as if he was molded by a Greek sculptor, which plays really well in the movie because of course Amy would fall for such a beauty.
However, Louisa does describe Laurie as having darker skin. Greta whitewashed the character, as every director before her. It’s hard because I love Timmy and his chemistry with Saoirse and Florence is on point, but he’s still the whitest man ever. Having someone a little less pale would have been incredibly interesting. The book doesn’t say much about Laurie’s mother nor why Mr. Laurence hated her so much, but I think there were four main reasons:
She’s Italian, and they had always had a bad stereotype among other Western Europeans and Americans.
She probably had dark skin, and passed it to Laurie
She was a musician. Artists, as acclaimed and famous as they could be, they were still seen as employees at the service of wealthy patrons. Even more, a working woman might not have been Mr. Laurence first choice for a daughter in law. Most probably she wasn’t that rich and that’s why she was able to pursue a career.
She could have been Catholic.
It gives Laurie another dimension. Even in the north, people were quite racist. Laurie was wealthy and handsome, so that saved him. But it would mean so much that the Marches accepted this boy as part of their family. Even more, that Amy would have married him.
I’ll be posting about Amy and Laurie next.
Did I missed something? Let me know your thoughts
#little women#little women 2019#greta gerwig#louisa may alcott#laurie laurence#amy x laurie#laurie deserved better#timothée chamalet#timmy chalamet#theodore laurence#theodore laurie laurence
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Darling!!!!!!!!!! I dare yo to write an alternate Deathly Hallows where Draco yeets the Elder Wand.
Challenge accepted. Here’s my first venture into HP fanfiction, I suppose. :)
“HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!”
There’s something to be said about shock.
Something to be said about going into shock, but he can’t be bothered to care at this moment. The words slip from his grasp, falling aside as worthless details and half grasped concepts.
They aren’t real, nothing feels real, because as much as he’s hated Harry Potter, as deeply as he’s despised him, he’s never dreamt of his corpse. Not once, not even at his darkest, not even with his Aunt Bella egging him on as the muggles screamed…
He’s never wished Potter dead, even if he hated himself for it.
He freezes as the Weasley girl screams, as her father grabs her tight as he can to hold her back from the Death Eater’s loud cheers. Draco can see him – the object of his envy and hatred and irritation and complete and utter loathing – in the Half-breed’s arms, draped haphazardly like a delicate princess. It almost looks like he’s sleeping, like this is all some sick joke, and the stupid prat’s Chosen One powers are about to kick in at any moment.
But then Draco looks at Granger and Weasley, looks at the shock in their eyes, the broken and haunted way the tears gather in their eyes, and he knows this is real. This isn’t school years, where his worst secret is the humiliation lingering after Potter’s rejection in first year, where his biggest concern is winning the Quidditch game just to show Potter up or the House Cup to give the finger to Dumbledore.
This is real, and it’s terrifying, terrifying in a way he’d barely tasted in sixth year, half-mad with desperation and the burden of that brand on his arm, the dark ink marking him as evil and wrong.
(“Draco, years ago, I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you.”)
He hadn’t let the old man help him, had watched Severus Snape kill him, and he feels a pang for the optimistic fool doomed to die. He never set out to make the wrong choices, but he did anyways. There were no choices, there had been honor, and duty, and loyalty, but never a choice.
(What’s the right choice when every action leads to a death? When inaction leads to death? What is the right choice when your father bartered away your ability to make them for the loyalty of a madman drunk on power?)
Malfoys don’t have choices, they have responsibilities.
He’d been damned from the start.
“SILENCE!”
No one speaks, no one breathes, not even Draco. His eyes linger on Potter, blood-spattered and dirty, as if he’d tumbled through dirt before ‘Avada Kedavra’ struck. He wonders if it hurt, if Potter had been afraid.
Potter’s a Gryffindor, so he doubts it – what they lacked in subtlety and intelligence they made up for in fool-hardy bravery.
(And isn’t that the conundrum Draco’s struggled with, surrounded by the Dark Lord’s suffocating presence, the toxic feeling lingering in Malfoy Manor – is it better to be a brilliant coward, or a brave fool? – Potter’s corpse doesn’t offer any answers)
“Why didn’t you tell her? Bellatrix? You knew it was me. You didn’t say anything.”
He’s never been ready for Potter’s death, even when the opportunity arose not once but twice – first at the hands of his family, second at the hands of his friends – he’d been so stupidly unprepared that he’d saved him, lied for him, even after the bathroom and all the bad blood accumulated over years of bitterness, years of envy and what he wishes he could call hatred.
He’d never had a choice, but he let himself have one.
His family asked him to save them, and he chose Potter, for reasons neither of them understand. ‘Understood,’ he corrects, ignoring the blathering of the Dark Lord as he glides across his field of destruction and blood, ‘Neither of us understood.’ Because it’s past tense now – hate is now hated, envy is now envied – and he still doesn’t know how to feel, even as he knows how he should feel.
Malfoys are calm, collected. Malfoys are perfect, in composure as well as pedigree. Malfoys don’t cower, nor do they fight.
As the snake strikes in the cover of tall grass, Malfoys strike in the dark, underhanded methods and crafty exchanges (money makes the bloody world spin, and the Malfoys have more money than they have emotion).
He should be happy, should be smug, perhaps, over the death of the Boy Who Lived. The other Death Eaters are – ecstatic, actually – but he’s not the same as them, even if it would be easier for his entire family if he were. Potter is the Boy Who Lived, and he’s the fool unwilling to see him dead – the boy who had no choice – stuck on the subtle tug of his gut as Potter’s heart beats, as his green eyes glimmer.
Draco hates himself for noticing that too, for not being what he should be for his family.
“Draco, come.”
His mother beckons him, lips pulled tight in a twisted mockery even he couldn’t call a grin. It’s forced, so disgustingly forced that he could scream, rage the way the Weasley girl tries to. Malfoys are calm, Malfoys are collected, and the look in his mother’s eyes – the whimper half released from his father’s throat – is anything but.
Draco walks from the right side numbly, staring at Potter’s corpse even as the Dark Lord embraces him.
He shivers in revulsion, sick as the man his family has served faithfully for so long embraces him as family. He’s stiff, goosebumps trailed down his pale – damn near translucent – flesh feels the Dark Lord’s words.
Draco is released and his mother embraces him next, but his eyes still linger on the corpse that should not be, the last person he’d ever thought would die – even though Potter was the only non-muggle the Dark Lord truly wanted to die.
No one calls him back, not that he expects them to, but he’s (mildly) disappointed all the same.
He wonders if Potter would have attempted it, self-righteous in his own beliefs that Draco couldn’t be truly evil, truly wrong, if he’d defied the Dark Lord to let him live. He probably would have, might have called him a git or pathetic, and it’s nearly enough to make Draco laugh.
How far he’s fallen, to crave the predictability and reliability in banter with his greatest rival. That mutual irritation… They got under each other’s skin in ways no one else could, even if Draco hadn’t killed anyone.
“…Longbottom.”
He ignores his surroundings, ignores his mother’s soft attempts to coax him out of his self-imposed silence, ignores his father’s whimpering and the ashen appearance that’s such a far cry from before…
Before life became real, and actions had consequences, and his choices led to death and pain for people who didn’t deserve it.
Somewhere between Albus Dumbledore’s death and Potter’s, he’d changed.
Life used to be so clear…
But his father had been abandoned to Azkaban, cast aside in his own home for the Dark Lord’s acceptance. His mother had suffered – quietly, in ways those who didn’t know her wouldn’t see – in ways she’d never suffered before. And Draco… Draco…
“…You knew it was me. You didn’t say anything.”
He doesn’t know himself anymore.
“Draco,” his father murmurs, and he pulls back, tearing his gaze off Potter for the first time since Voldemort’s loud declaration set in this cold, this numbness, settling in his limbs as if it was meant to be there.
His mother strokes his hair, nearly as tense as he is.
His father… looks pathetic. His once luminous blonde locks are stiff and dirty, as worn down and decayed as the rest of him. He’s lost weight, enough for his cheeks to appear sullen and sunken in, enough for his perfectly tailored robes to hang off him in ways not befitting a Malfoy.
He shoots his father a glare, furious at the tears he can feel prickling at the corners of his eyes.
“What?” He demands, ignoring Longbottom’s nervous words, the exaggerated gestures he makes as he speaks, drawing the crowds of right and wrong’s attention.
“We must leave, Draco,” Narcissa interjects, eyes cold and empty. There’s a kindness in her touch that her perfect face can’t convey. “Now.”
But he shoves her away, because his eyes are back on Potter – infuriatingly, stupidly, fixated on the boy turned man he couldn’t hate no matter how desperately he wanted to. Steady breath, in and out.
“…a boy who made all the wrong choices…”
He feels his mother eyes linger, demanding answers he can’t give, perhaps is unwilling to give.
Longbottom’s shouting now, speaking of sacrifice and how Harry Potter’s stupid heart had beat and bled for them all – and honestly, after all the years and pain and suffering, how could they not already know that? How could they question that, when he only hated those who aligned themselves with pain, with hatred and wrong choices.
Unexplainably, there’s a twitch.
Corpses don’t twitch, and it’s small enough for Draco to nearly brush off, to dismiss it as a fight of fancy for his not-hated rival, but he knows Potter. Knows Potter far more than he likes admitting, and he sees his right hand – the same hand he extends towards the snitch every match with that infuriating grin – twitch again.
Potter can’t sit still, never has been able to…
And Draco knows the truth before Longbottom draws the sword of Godric Gryffindor from the dirtied Sorting Hat, knows it as Voldemort laughs.
“Harry’s heart did beat for us! For all of us! And it’s not over!”
Harry Potter grunts, louder than the rapid tempo of Draco’s heart, and he flings himself from the Half-Giant’s arms to the cold stone floor of the half-destroyed courtyard.
The Dark Lord turns, smug grin turning as the gasps reach his ears…
Potter’s wild-eyed, hands grasping for a wand that evidently wasn’t there, still glaring at Voldemort defiantly.
Draco Malfoy is a boy who’s never had a choice, burdened by his family’s legacy, by the weight of expectations and tradition and self-importance piled on by his father. He’s always followed his father’s rules, his father’s ambitions…
He’s been perfect, as close as he could get.
He’s been obedient, even as it tore his soul and mind apart.
He’s been cool, even as screams scratch at his throat, demanding to be released.
But when the Dark Lord turns, when he frowns and his eyes narrow into dark slits, Draco makes another choice, ripping his arm from his mother’s grasp.
“Draco—” His father tries, but he’s already gone.
“…all the wrong choices…”
“Potter!” He shouts, ripping the wand straight from Voldemort’s bony fingers. Potter’s emerald eyes – still glimmering, Draco can’t help but notice – snap onto him, hardened and suspicious, until they notice the wand he holds in a death grip.
He tosses the wand, ignoring Voldemort’s angry shout for another wand, and Potter catches it, looking alive and confident…
“CONFRINGO!”
Nagini hisses, sent flying towards the Death Eater’s as Voldemort yells again, sending waves of flames towards Potter and – fuck – him. They both jump over rubble, ducking between pillars as they run.
“If we die,” Draco hisses, dodging another furious attack from Voldemort, “I will kill you again, Potter.”
Potter sends him a curious look, one that makes him catch his breath.
“If we die,” He echoes, lips curling upwards. “Tom won’t succeed, not this time.”
Draco blinks, nearly struck by another jet of flames he doesn’t notice.
“Who the bloody hell is Tom?”
#harry potter#draco x harry#drarry#deathly hallows#battle of hogwarts#au#based on that one deleted scene#you know which one#Malfoy saying Pottah! is practically a kink#fanfic#my writing#i might continue this#maybe#possibly#I fell into this ship#I fell into it hard#draco malfoy redemption#draco deserved better
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AMBITION Season 3 ♫ “Can You Dig It?” [ 3.07 ]
CREATED BY Esther (waterstribe) & Maggie (quincywillows) || Official Page || AO3
STAYIN’ ALIVE – After an unfortunate accident, the A class finds themselves working double time to fund their showdown performance. Charlie struggles to balance the past and the present, and Maya makes a desperate move. Farkle receives news that changes his life forever.
70 Minutes (33K words) || No content warnings apply.
[ ← The Comfort Zone ] [ S3 Synopsis ] [ Moment of Truth → ]
( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )
EXT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY
Music plays over the sound system, setting a comfortable and fun scene while most of the A class works together on the auditorium stage. The performers are working through showdown choreography or helping put the finishing touches on set pieces for the production, while the techies are split between those set pieces, the beginning of structures for their upcoming winter musical, and tweaking the lights. JEFF MONROE is up on the catwalk out of sight, NATE MARTINEZ perched on top of a scaffolding and passing him requested tools. DAVE WILLIAMS is balancing on a ladder against the scaffolding, helping hand things to Nate from below.
MAYA HART has taken over as dance captain, shouting commands at her classmates still running through steps. ZAY BABINEAUX watches from on top of the major set piece they’re building at center stage for the musical, unimpressed and maybe a bit envious. His injured left leg is now in a boot, wheelchair gone.
The conversation varies, from the impending showdown finals to college application deadlines. Everything is coming down the pipeline at record speed, right towards them, and they have to juggle it all at once. RILEY MATTHEWS glances around and asks where Jade is, which ISADORA DE LA CRUZ answers.
Isadora: She’s been locked up in the costume loft basically since last week. The deadline for her conservatory and apprenticeship programs is closing in, so she’s been working basically non-stop.
Maya: How does she not have enough samples already? Hasn’t she made everything we’ve ever worn in this school for the last three years?
A fair question, but it doesn’t get addressed. They’re all distracted by a new song coming on shuffle, playing loudly over the speakers.
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Boogie Wonderland” as performed by Earth, Wind & Fire || Instrumental
Although the track is an undeniable bop, the assembled A class seniors don’t seem impressed. They all quickly pipe up to complain, calling for someone to skip it.
Darby: Where’s Jeff? Jeff! Hit skip!
Jeff, from above: A little busy right now!
Maya: Well someone better go change it!
Haley: And risk getting killed by Lucas because we dared enter the booth? No thanks.
Maya: Fair point. Riley, go change it.
Riley, in the midst of rolling paint on a set piece, raises her free arm in a shrug. Also a little busy. Zay shakes his head.
Zay: What is wrong with all of you? None of you have taste. Disco is classic. You should respect the excellence that came before you.
Maya: Sorry I’m not still living in the 20th century. It’s 2020, Zayby. Disco is dead.
Zay: You absolutely disgust me. If my foot wasn’t booted --
NIGEL CHEY finally relents amidst all their complaints, claiming he’ll risk his life to go change it if it will get them all to shut up.
For now, though, the boogie wonderland is ongoing. FARKLE MINKUS uses the opportunity to pick on Isadora, loosely disco grooving around her and trying to poke her into joining him. She laughs but tells him to cut it out, and when he gets too close, she playfully shoves him away.
Only she’s stronger than she looks, and he’s a beanpole, so she overshoots and pushes him a bit too hard. Farkle goes stumbling backwards -- right into the ladder that’s holding up Dave. Isadora yanks Farkle back just as the ladder falls out from under Dave, just missing Nigel, clattering to the stage next to them and creating a dent.
Dance! Boogie wonderland!
A bunch of the seniors cry out, scrambling away, now watching in horror as Dave dangles from the side of the scaffolding a dozen or so feet above the ground. He almost loses his grip, seconds from falling, and Maya screams. She backs away frantically and knocks into a paint can, spilling metallic silver paint all over their perfectly crisp black stage and splattering CLARISSA CRUZ, DARBY WINTERS, and SARAH CARLSON.
Ah! Ah! Dance!
Jeff and a couple of performers start shouting directives at Dave, trying to save him from a nasty fall off the scaffolding. Nate tries to pull him up, but it’s no use -- Dave is the giant after all, and Nate’s guns aren’t that swoll. Riley hides behind her hands, peeking through her fingers and unable to look away.
Riley: Oh my God, he’s gonna die.
Isadora takes over directing from below, instructing Dave to change trajectory and aim for the curtains to orient himself. Jeff objects to that, citing the integrity of the curtain pulley system, but he’s shouted down by the performers jumping on Isadora’s suggestion. Suddenly, everyone is yelling at Dave to go for the curtains, so that’s what he does.
Jeff: No, don’t -- !
All… the… love in the world can’t be gone!
Dave manages to latch onto the main curtain -- but it’s all downhill from there. That curtain is about as useless as Nate, and the pulley system holding it upright can only sustain so much weight (curtains are a lot heavier than they look). So the moment Dave latches on, it buckles underneath him, and seconds later the whole thing comes down in a spectacular show of destruction.
The A class scatters to avoid it, ducking down and covering their heads. Clarissa pulls HALEY FISHER down behind a set piece with her for cover; Farkle yanks Isadora out of the way and shields her behind him. Zay screws his eyes shut and hides behind his knee, thankfully a safe distance away. Then the dust settles, stunned silence giving way to the continuing groovy sounds of Earth, Wind, & Fire.
Riley pokes her head out from behind the set piece she was painting first, eyeing the heap of curtains and rods on the dented stage floor. She swallows.
Riley: … Dave?
For a moment, nothing but tense silence… from above, Nate releases a gasp.
Nate: Holy shit, we’ve killed him.
Then Dave emerges, pushing some dense drapery off of him and pushing himself into a sitting position. He seems dazed, but otherwise uninjured.
Jeff: Oh, thank God.
Isadora: Dave… you good buddy?
Dave blinks, then offers a thumbs up. Everyone releases a sigh of relief… just as SHAWN HUNTER and HARPER BURGESS enter into the scene of chaos, having rushed in after hearing the commotion from down the hall. In the opposite wings, LUCAS JAMES FRIAR returns with DYLAN ORLANDO and ASHER GARCIA, all of whom stop dead in their tracks when they set their eyes on the disaster they’ve stumbled into. Asher’s jaw drops open; Dylan drops the toolbox he was carrying.
Whoopsie. Boogie wonderland…
From his perch atop the set piece, Zay breaks the silence, shaking his head.
Zay: Shoulda never dissed disco.
Cue title sequence.
INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY
JACK HUNTER is seated at his desk, working to maintain a neutral composure as HARRISON YANCY paces his office. He’s haughty and on offense, demanding to know what happened with the auditorium and grilling Jack for details. Of all the things he planned to tangle with at Adams, vandalism and destruction of school property was not at the top of the list.
Yancy: But, then, I suppose I should’ve anticipated such a turn of events. Considering you’ve struggled with reining in destruction before, and insisted so vehemently on keeping problematic entities in your student roll -- and now they’re student leadership, in fact!
Jack: He had nothing to do with this. Lucas wasn’t even in the auditorium when it happened --
Yancy: How convenient for him.
Jack: And it was an accident. No ill intent involved. It was an accident, and all of the damage is repairable. The curtains can be fixed and replaced, the dents in the stage can be filled, and the spilled paint can be removed or painted over in turn. I think we should be more concerned with the lucky reality that no one was hurt.
Yancy: [ ignoring that point ] The damage is repairable, yes, but it won’t be free. And I certainly won’t approve its reparation on the school’s dime.
Jack points out that such a decision isn’t his to make -- he’s still the principal of Adams. And that’s true enough, but as Yancy effortlessly counters, he remains under close watch. That’s the reason Yancy is present in the first place. Every decision Jack makes is under scrutiny, and a figurative nod of approval from him matters. Jack must be wise enough to realize that.
Jack, begrudgingly: So what, then?
Yancy: So, it seems to me that the A class will have to proffer the money to pay for the damages on their own.
Jack: That’s ridiculous. They’re students, not entrepreneurs. And they’re already scrambling to raise money for their showdown performance, not to mention ways to bolster their scholarship initiative since you voted to deny them funding at the board level.
Yancy: Then they must be experts at it. What’s one more money-making effort? At least it’s teaching them meaningful life skills -- budgeting, consequences, the value of a dollar. All very sensible lessons to learn… something you used to complain this institution lacked at the same time you were decrying the actions of students you now fruitlessly defend, if I recall correctly.
Well, you got him there, Yancy. Jack deflates, knowing there’s no logical path out of this. Yancy has him cornered, and the more he invites reminders about how he used to be or the ways he’s already fumbled, the graver his prospects grow. Yancy emphasizes this as he makes his exit.
Yancy: We at the board used to hold you in high esteem, Jackson. We saw great things in your future. Now, with all these foolish mistakes... let’s hope that all your promise hasn’t dissolved with the Hunter I used to know.
The threat is buried deep beneath the thinly-veiled condescension, hidden in a simple choice of plural. Mistakes. This battle is just one in a long, growing list Yancy is keeping against him.
Like he could ever forget it. Jack releases a heavy sigh after Yancy leaves his office, slouching in his chair.
Lucas, pre-lap: I shouldn’t be surprised. This might as well happen.
INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY
Riley listens attentively as Lucas paces the booth, busying himself with gathering stuff for class for the sake of moving. Although his tone is sarcastic and indifferent, the weight of his words indicates he’s far from it.
Lucas: It’s not like I don’t already have enough to focus on, between the usual bullshit and the fundraising for showdown -- a showdown that we have to win if we want any chance of the scholarship thing actually taking off. That on top of the college applications I wasn’t planning on doing three months ago but now have to make really good, because suddenly I have dreams or whatever, even though I’m basically the most rejectable candidate on the east coast.
Riley: Okay, you know that’s not true.
Lucas: Fine. Most rejectable candidate in the greater Manhattan area.
Riley: You literally won an election.
Lucas: And the world is still wondering how and why.
Riley rolls her eyes, but she is sympathetic. She agrees that the stage accident was definitely an unexpected speed bump on everything they’ve got going on, but they’ll figure out how to handle it. There’s no way it’s going to be entirely on them, anyway, and they don’t even know how much damage was actually done yet.
She takes the opportunity to broach another topic, though, easing into a deeper conversation about college. She asks how his applications are going, which he claims are fine, in spite of the stress surrounding it.
Lucas: The only stuff I’ve got left are recommendations and personal essays. And I know I’m fucked on the recs considering you’re supposed to ask for those months in advance, and I know no one impressive, least of all who would sing my praises.
Riley: You could always ask my dad for a recommendation. I’m sure he’d have glowing things to say. Instant acceptance, I bet.
Lucas, flatly: You are hilarious. It’s no mystery how you managed to reel me in.
Riley: Well, that and my effortless charm and insanely dazzling visage.
Lucas gives her a look, but to be fair, he doesn’t argue her on it. She simply beams in response, sliding closer to him and halting his pacing by taking his hands.
Lucas: Honestly, I’m not really stuck on the recommendations. I think I’m going to ask Joe for one, because he can at least speak to my work ethic or whatever, and the other… I mean, it’s whatever. I’ll figure it out.
Riley: But…?
Lucas: But… I don’t know. With the rest of the app…
It’s clear there’s something else he’s really stuck on. Riley starts to offer him advice, or maybe just encouragement, but they’re interrupted by a knock on the booth door. Jeff appears moments later at the stairs.
Jeff: Class is starting. Judgment day is upon us.
Lucas and Riley share an apprehensive look, then follow the lighting technician out of the booth.
INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY
Harper, Shawn, and ERIC MATTHEWS are on the stage, assessing the damage while the A class gathers in the front and center section. The destroyed curtain has been removed, the pock marks in the stage even more visible in its absence.
ANGELA MOORE emerges from the wings, Janitor HARLEY KEINER in tow. She’s just barely starting to show her pregnancy, but the flowy tops she’s wearing now conceal it fairly well.
Harley: Old curtain’s out back. Trash company will be by this afternoon to take it away.
Angela: I have to say, I picked a great day to stop by and visit. Never a dull moment.
Harper: Girl, tell me about it.
Angela laughs knowingly. Been there, queen. Eric and Shawn turn their attention to the seniors, coming towards the front of the stage.
Eric: Who wants to explain what exactly happened?
A whole bunch of them immediately launch into retellings, talking over each other and definitely exaggerating elements of the story. The camera jumps around to each of them, catching snippets of their perspective.
Sarah: If Jeff had just changed the song --
Jeff: I was in the catwalk!
Nate: So Jeff’s up in the catwalk, and Dave is handing me shit -- I mean, uh, stuff -- on the scaffolding --
Darby: Isadora pushed Farkle --
Isadora: I lightly nudged Farkle --
Maya: Farkle is like a house of cards and all it takes is a little wind to knock him over, so he goes flying into the ladder --
Clarissa: Paint splatters --
Yindra: The ladder goes crashing down and nearly takes off Nigel’s head --
Jade: Oh my God, what?
Nigel, pointedly: No, it did not. [ softer, to Jade ] No, it didn’t.
Yindra: It did.
Haley: Not like the curtains almost took out Dave!
Yogi: This class is a circus act.
Eric holds up a hand to halt them all, waving them down. He can’t figure out what any of them are saying when they all talk at once, so he asks for a volunteer to give the rundown. A few hands up go up, but Eric wisely selects Zay.
He pulls himself to his feet, gingerly, for the effect. Then he clears his throat, speaking plainly and matter-of-fact.
Zay: Farkle got knocked into the ladder. Ladder falls, dents stage. Dave almost falls, Nate is no help --
Nate: Whoa, okay then. Hater.
Zay: Maya stumbles back and knocks silver paint can over. Performers tell Dave to grab curtain, Jeff objects --
Jeff: Justice. Thank you.
Zay: Dave does anyway, whole thing comes down. Also, no one in this class has taste and for that they evoked the wrath of God. But apparently God can’t kill Dave Williams.
Dylan: So metal.
Eric: Thank you, Zay.
Zay does a pithy salute, lowering back into his seat. Harper goes on to explain the total damages done by the incident as well as relay the total cost of the repairs -- without saying a definitive sum, suffice to say it’s not cheap.
The A class immediately breaks into chatter again, trying to divert blame off themselves. Shawn notices one student doesn’t seem particularly vexed -- in fact, he appears to be laughing to himself behind his hand.
Shawn: I’m sorry, Friar, do you find this funny?
Lucas: What? Oh, no, no. Very serious business. [ clearing his throat ] It’s just… it’s so nice to not be the one responsible for once.
The performers immediately boo him. He simply smiles. CHAI FRESCO is the one who manages to redirect the conversation.
Chai: What exactly is he doing here?
All eyes turn to Janitor Harley, who stands sheepishly next to the faculty. Harper says she’s glad Chai asked, claiming that if anyone deserves an apology for what they did today, it would be him. He puts a lot of effort and care into maintaining their sacred space, this auditorium, and the damage done today walks all over that.
Darby: It really was an accident.
Harley: No hard feelings, Miss Winters. Mighty nice as it was for Harper and Shawn to invite me here, rest assured I know there was no ill intent or disrespect. And I can assure you that with the time and proper resources, we will return this stage to tip-top shape in no time.
Maya: Lovely. Problem solved then, no?
Eric: Not quite. You do still have an assignment to attend to, especially as it’s your last major one before finals.
Harper: Since it is a weird time in the calendar and we don’t want to barrel another assignment next week right before showdown, Shawn and I agreed that this assignment would be a two-week stretch, and ideally lower stakes.
Shawn: Even better now, considering how you all just doubled pressure on your own.
Harper: And since you’ve also in turn given Harley more pressure and work to attend to in this time, we thought it only fair that he decide your focus for the project.
With that, they pass the floor over to Harley again to make his declaration. The performers don’t seem all that unnerved -- it’s Harley Keiner. What’s the worst he could do? Clean-up anthems? He clears his throat, clasping his biker-gloved hands together.
Harley: When I’m in a particularly rough spot, or working through a grueling task, I have always found that a little music can really liven the task.
Yogi: [ under his breath ] Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere…
Harley: But nothing gets me more fired up, ready to take on a challenge or dance to the beat, than some classic tunes from my early youth. And I’ll tell you kids, no one knew music better than the radio hits of my day.
Slowly, the possibility begins to dawn on the A class what decree awaits them. Dylan is counting backwards on his fingers, trying to calculate just how old Harley actually is, but Asher next to him has beaten him to it.
Asher: Oh no.
Harley: Ladies and gentleboys, we’ll be taking it back to the ‘70s this week for your musical assignments.
Dun dun dun. The A class expresses their obvious disdain. Well, all except Zay, who cracks a smug grin.
Zay: Heh heh… karma.
There’s only more grim news. Considering the stage is going to be undergoing repairs thanks to all this, they’re all essentially ousted from the auditorium for the time being. No sense practicing or rehearsing in a space that’s going to be under construction. JADE BEAMON sits up straighter, shooting her hand in the air.
Jade: We can still access the lofts, right? Like, I can get in the costume loft --
Eric: Yes, all the technical spaces, as well as the dressing rooms, are still fair game. But stay away from the stage.
Harper: And you might not get much work done when they’re doing things like drilling and hammering, so be forewarned.
Haunting… Jade hides in her hands, already stressed. Nigel tentatively pats her on the shoulder.
So yeah, all in all, some unideal circumstances right before some of the most important events of their high school career.
INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY
Maya is in surprisingly good spirits in spite of the financial issues confronting the class, preening and showing off Valerie’s faux fur coat. She wears it effortlessly, entertaining Darby, Sarah, and a crop of underclassmen at a table as she shares the tale of her and Valerie’s instant starlit bond. When Darby reaches out to feel the coat, Maya quickly smacks her hand away.
Maya: You’re welcome and encouraged to look, but no touchie. Golden diva rule.
A couple of tables over, Riley and Isadora watch her showboating with amusement. Riley claims it was really generous of Isadora to give her the coat, but she shrugs it off.
Isadora: Seriously, she’s way more at home in it than I would ever be. Can you ever see me pulling that off?
Riley: I think you can deliver any design you endeavor, you know that. [ off her raised eyebrow ] But yeah, a bit out of your element. Ironically, maybe.
Isadora: Even that’s a stretch. But it really wasn’t a hard decision. As much as it inflates her ego, my mom did see something in her. Maya can use it as a bragging tool all she wants, and people probably won’t believe her because of it, but they probably would be in cahoots if Val were still here. [ a beat ] A lot of things were going to happen if she were here.
Oof. Riley senses the gloom impending, searching for a quick change of subject. She asks if Isadora found anything else cool in the boxes from the estate.
Isadora pauses, mouth parted open. The answer is plenty -- including the mystery hidden way deep down underneath everything else. But for whatever reason, she hesitates explaining what she found.
Thankfully, she doesn’t have to respond anyway. Dylan swoops into their conversation, dropping down into the seat next to Riley and smacking a piece of paper onto the table. It’s a flyer for scheme one of their fundraising efforts: a community dance, now officially ‘70s themed. Isadora turns it around to get a better look at the very bright poster.
Dylan: Hot off the presses, ladies. Another instant classic from the one and only ambassador of public relational fun and enthusiasm, comma right hand advisor, comma prime minister of the techies and secretary of kissing, mainly to the secretary and official marketing and communications director for the Friar administration.
Isadora: Colorful…
Dylan: Shout-out to Harley for basically choosing our theme for us. We’d been sitting on it for ages because Asher and Maya kept fighting over it.
Isadora: Really? What theme ideas could possibly be worth scrapping over?
Dylan: Nothing. Neither of them actually had an idea. I think they just automatically hate anything that comes out of the others’ mouth.
Isadora: Wow, just like a real body politic.
Riley excitedly swipes the flyer, praising Dylan for his enthusiastic design. She snaps a picture of it on her phone and explains she’s texting it to Charlie.
Riley: I’m so pumped for this. Disco isn’t my favorite thing, but it is fun.
Dylan: Bouncy.
Isadora: Jaunty.
Dylan: Ooh, thesaurus bonus.
Dylan and Isadora exchange a quick high five. Riley beams at them, then continues.
Riley: Besides, with how extremely crazy everything is right now between college apps and showdown and now this fundraising debacle, I think it’ll give all of us some much-needed serotonin. A nice evening of… disco dopamine.
Dylan: Oh, you know you just wanna see Lucas in some sick bellbottoms.
Isadora: [ with a gag ] God… please, I’m sitting right here...
Riley shoves Dylan playfully, then reiterates the point. It will be fun. A nice, well-deserved stress reliever after working their asses off these next couple weeks.
INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY
And boy howdy, that could not be truer for Jade. She is in full frenzy mode, skipping lunch and hunkered down in the costume loft to work. It seems like she’s been there for days, her space under the loft essentially a nest of costuming supplies, her belongings, and discarded snack containers. Her hair is a mess of tangles falling half out of a ponytail, three different tape measures are draped around her neck like graduation cords, and she’s wearing an old button up paint smock about 3 sizes too large that only exacerbates the crazed hermit energy.
Asher and Jeff listen as she multitasks on cataloguing some of her projects and marks another in progress on the table in front of her, the former visibly disconcerted by Jade’s general state of being while the latter seems mainly tickled. She speaks around a pin caught between her lips as she explains the reason for the chaos -- college applications are due right around the corner, as are apprenticeship applications, and she needs to have all her portfolio pieces in perfect condition before she hits that submit button.
Asher: Again, I know this is hypocritical coming from me, but girl you need to relax.
Jade snaps her head up to glare at him, even scarier with that pin in her mouth. She removes it to stick something down while Jeff asks her what she has left to do. Apparently, she’s just about done after days of relentless work, so she’s on her last application assignment now: pick a decade and create a sampling of as many unique -- but historically accurate -- costumes as possible in her designer’s mind.
Jade: Luckily, Janitor Harley did me the favor of having to pick a decade. If we’re doing ‘70s stuff this week anyway, then we’ll probably need costumes, so I can knock out two birds with one stone.
Jeff: I don’t know if I’d say need…
Asher: Yeah, with the auditorium boarded up for the time being I doubt we’ll be doing any major productions.
Jade: With Maya and Farkle, you can never be too careful.
Case in point, she is way too swamped to even think about the fundraising bullshit. She feels bad, but there’s no way she can split her time. Jeff and Asher assure her it’s no big deal.
Jeff: I think the performers will let you off the hook considering you’ve made… every single costume they’ve ever worn since freshman year.
Asher: Least they could do.
Jeff: Yeah. You deserve a week off!
Jeff’s turn to receive the Jade Beamon death glare. He clears his throat, scratching his ear.
Jeff: Well, you know… not for you, but...
Jade stabs the pin cushion pointedly.
Zay, pre-lap: I guess if my clear eternal damnation is good for anything, it gets me out of fundraising to fix another problem caused by Farkle and the Pips.
INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY
Zay and Nigel are taking their lunch in the boys dressing room, both on their laptops while they eat. They’re working on finalizing college application stuff, Zay sitting on the counter with his injured foot propped up while Nigel is leaning against the mirrors on the floor.
Nigel: Guess it’s worth it then.
Zay: Ha ha, so funny. If I could afford to move, I would kill you for being such a damn comedian.
Nigel: I’m more of a tragedies man myself. [ a beat ] What are you planning to do, exactly? For the applications.
Zay: [ with a sigh ] Just putting the pieces together and hoping for the best. Thank fuck I recorded a couple runs of my routine when I was going through my obsessive drills at the start of the year.
Nigel: Glad Diva Zay was good for something.
Zay: They’re not as polished as I want, but they’ll do. Not like I have any other options. I’m just going to convince myself via self-hypnosis that they’ll see the rough edges as loose, natural charm. Between that and other samples I have from shows and recitals and West Side Story, all I can do is hope that’s enough. And if I get far enough to book an audition… I’ll be better by then.
He says it like a guarantee -- he can’t consider the alternative. Nigel isn’t sure how to respond, but he’s spared from figuring it out as they’re interrupted by YINDRA AMINO entering with a few showdown costumes to replace on the rack. All of them freeze as they glance at one another, Yindra and Zay holding one another’s gaze for a few moments longer. Then Yindra brushes past the awkwardness, shrugging and focusing on the costume rack.
Yindra: No need to go on defense, boys. I’m only here on business.
She keeps her eyes on her task. Nigel picks up the conversational slack, explaining that they were discussing their college applications. He asks how Yindra is doing in plotting her college plans, as last they talked she didn’t have much set in stone.
Yindra, matter-of-fact: I’ll be applying to a couple of schools as a safety net, but my main trajectory remains Los Angeles. The current plan right now is to skip over the bureaucracy of academics I don’t care about and go out there to start striking while the iron is hot. Talent speaks for itself.
Nigel, ever the pragmatist, still seems uneasy about such a plan, but it’s Zay who beats him to the punch. He breaks the silence between him and Yindra with a snort, tone teasing but friendly.
Zay: Straight to Los Angeles with no foundation? Now that’s just asking for trouble, and that’s coming from a diva like me. Haven’t you seen Fame?
Maybe that kind of friendly fire passes when they’re on good terms, but it falls flat now. Yindra stiffens her shoulders, giving Zay a diva glare of her own.
Yindra: [ without looking at him ] Nigel, will you please inform Zay that despite what his superiority complex might think, I’m not an idiot?
Nigel: Oh, um --
Zay: Come on, Yindra. I didn’t mean it like that.
Yindra: And Zay might find it interesting to know that my dad is considering moving to Los Angeles as well, if I plan to be out there, so I don’t see how I’m swinging with no foundation. And I’ll be using the money that we would’ve wasted on tuition for studio time to record a demo, so there is in fact a method behind the madness. Just because I’m not following the same musty, beaten path as everyone else doesn’t mean I’m not on any path at all. [ haughtily ] And even in spite of his broke attitude, I wish him all the best with his less-than-ideal circumstances. Least of all this week -- I’m sure not being able to show off while he discos is simply killing him. Thanks for letting him know, Nigel.
Nigel: … you’re welcome...
With that, Yindra spins on her heel and exits. Zay rolls his eyes, but it’s clear that the state of their friendship is really bothering him. Nigel awkwardly attempts to move past it, commenting that the two of them are about as dramatic as a Shakespearean comedy of errors before coming back to Yindra’s closing point.
Nigel: It’s a shame about this assignment though. You’re probably the only one in our class who could truly thrive this week.
Zay smiles half-heartedly, both of them focusing back on their computers. After a moment, his smile dims.
Zay: Didn’t use to be…
INT. HAVERFORD PREP - HALLWAY - DAY
CHARLIE GARDNER is at his locker, reading the texts from Riley. He pulls up the photo of the flyer for the dance fundraiser, boasting the disco theme for the end of the semester in all its groovy glory.
Yes, it is a tragedy that Charlie isn’t there to participate. Another disco gay, barred from the dance floor. It’s clear from his expression that he’s bummed about it.
He’s only pulled out of his fugue when EVAN SCOTT approaches. He pats him on the shoulder as he passes and asks if he’s ready for rehearsal. With senior showdown finals so close around the corner, Brandon is going to be drilling them more than ever. Now it’s game time for real.
Charlie nods, putting his phone away and shutting his locker to follow him. But that melancholy still lingers in his features.
INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY
But he’s not the only one grappling with an unideal situation. Lucas is the king of that, settled in his usual chair across from Jack, only this time he’s not alone. Maya has been called in with him, the two of them waiting uncertainly as Jack prepares to share why he brought them in.
And the reason for his apprehension is obvious once he says it. He finally breaks the news to them that the school board declined to fund their scholarship initiative -- and that’s not even the worst part.
Maya: Nothing?
Lucas: They’re not going to contribute anything?
Jack: I know, it’s disappointing. To be honest, I was anticipating at least a partial donation, but for whatever reason it was shot down wholesale. It was close, though.
Maya: Well. That’s just lovely. Could the state of the AAA union get any more despicable?
Jack: To put it simply? Yes.
Uh oh. Jack reluctantly informs them of the other bomb blowing up their administration -- that Yancy has insisted they pay for the damages to the auditorium since their class caused it. Both Lucas and Maya erupt in complaints, the latter literally leaping out of her chair and launching into a frantic pace behind it. She fans herself, taking deep breaths.
Maya: Okay. This is fine. No money, no problems. It’s fine. It’s fine!
Jack: … Miss Hart?
Maya stops behind her vacated seat, gripping the back of it. She takes in a deep breath, holds it, and releases it theatrically. Then she opens her eyes, plastering on her winning star smile.
Maya: It’s okay. Yes, everything is fine. The situation is unideal, in a word --
Lucas: More like bullshit.
Maya: Also a word. But money and I have been tussling my whole career. It won’t be getting the best of me now. We’ll come up with another way to fundraise alongside the dance social and then we will win showdown and absolutely everything will work out exactly how I want it to. It always does.
Jack: That so?
Maya: Thanks to the two powers that be, Principal Hunter -- star and will. And I’ve got both in spades. [ another breath ] Okay, damage control. Need new ideas. Gotta pool resources… brainstorm. I need to brainstorm. I’m thinking… I’m scheming...
Maya hums, entering zen diva mode as she gathers her things. She backs out of the office and assures Lucas she’ll update him as soon as she’s figured out their second moneymaker. Once she’s gone, Lucas and Jack wait a moment to let the Maya pheromones dissipate before continuing the conversation.
Jack: Say what you will about her, can’t pretend she doesn’t have moxie. An interesting choice to partner with you.
Lucas: Believe it or not -- and I’ll deny it if you tell anyone -- I think she’s the best second-in-command I could’ve picked. Somehow her brand of insanity is just right for the Minesweeper that is Triple A student government.
Hard to argue with that. Jack apologizes again for the fact that so much seems to be piling on him at once. He really did think they would get more help from the board… but they’ll keep marching on regardless. The initiative is worth fighting for, and besides, their fundraisers could really outsell their expectations. Especially with a theme like disco, their dance will probably be a smashing success. Lucas can’t help but smirk.
Lucas: Yeah, you’d know all about that, huh? Bet you were just a disco king back in your day.
Jack, flatly: How old do you think I am to have been discoing in the ‘70s?
Cheekiness notwithstanding, the prospects seem good. Not all hope is lost. Jack switches gears, checking in with how Lucas is doing on his applications with deadlines fast approaching. Lucas gives the same general response he gave Riley, tiptoeing around the challenge of the essay component and focusing on the fact that he might get it done at all. Now that it’s so close, it feels more and more daunting… not to mention all the other pressure that seems to be landing on top of him right at the same time.
Jack hears that, and dismisses Lucas so he has time to go deal with all those pressures. Before he walks out, Lucas pauses and turns back for one more thing. He struggles to articulate it since asking for any sort of help feels like specialized torture, but he manages to ask if Jack would be willing to write him a letter of recommendation for the applications. The request surprises Jack, which Lucas reads as discomfort.
Lucas: I know it’s like, pretty last minute and stuff. And there probably isn’t a lot to say about me, so it’ll take some work to throw something compelling together. I should’ve asked sooner, or like, bothered someone else. So I totally get it if you don’t have time or have too much to do or just, you know, don’t want to --
Jack is far from opposed, though. In fact, he’s touched by the request, expression softening to a smile.
Jack: Lucas. [ waiting for him to quiet ] I’d be happy to write one for you. It’s no problem at all.
Lucas: … okay. Cool. Um, thanks.
Jack: You’re quite welcome.
Lucas: I’ll send over the links and stuff later. Today. Later today. So it’s not any later.
Jack: Whatever works for you.
Lucas: Okay… okay. Cool.
Any more bashful vulnerability and Lucas just might implode. He mutters one more quick thanks and scampers away, Jack holding back his amusement long enough to spare Lucas further embarrassment. He chuckles to himself as he shifts back to his work, shaking his head.
INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY
Surrounded by various textbooks and scripts and with her laptop propped in front of her, Isadora sits on her bed. A half-finished essay about how the horror genre has developed over the years is open on her screen, but has been entirely abandoned in favor of the mysterious letter Valerie had in her belongings. Isadora holds several handwritten pages, eyebrows furrowed as she reads her mother’s words. She moves the first page to the side, and we catch a glimpse of Val’s loopy handwriting:
Dearest Zachary,
How lovely it is to hear from an old friend! I’m so glad that you’re doing well. Send my well wishes to that darling wife of yours.
To answer your question, I wasn’t entirely sure of who Isadora’s father was when I discovered I was pregnant -- as you well know, I often got rather drunk back then, so couldn’t be entirely sure of all my actions. However, upon reflection, I have come to the same conclusion as you.
Well, damn. Heavy stuff, even if somewhat rose-tinted through Valerie’s flowery language. Isadora bites her lip as she continues reading, clearly conflicted about this sudden revelation.
Eric, off-screen: Dinner’s ready!
Isadora doesn’t seem to hear Eric’s yell, so after a moment, Eric comes to her room to tell her directly. She still doesn’t look up from the letter, peaking Eric’s interest.
Eric: What are you reading?
Isadora: Hm? Oh, nothing.
She folds up the papers and shoves them under one of her notebooks nearby, giving Eric a small forced smile. He narrows his eyes at her, jokingly suspicious, which Isadora laughs off. She hops off her bed and asks what’s for dinner, successfully distracting him.
INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - DAY
Farkle is meeting with DR. MICHELLE HAN, assembled in their usual positions with her in her arm chair and him sprawled across the couch. He’s relaying the drama of the week and his unfortunate instrumental role in all the destruction, though at least this time it was far from intentional. But it’s clear he feels guilty about it, and he admits that his uncanny knack for making things worse is definitely not helping him combat those low moods that seem to creep up on him out of nowhere.
Dr. Han perks up at this, taking the opportunity to gear the conversation. She gently asks if they could discuss that further for a bit, his experience with the high and low moods. Everybody has off days, of course, but based on their previous discussions, she’s interested to hear more about how Farkle describes these different emotional states and the other factors that come with it.
It’s not hard to get Farkle to talk. He obliges without hesitation, launching into details about how it feels when he’s feeling especially frenzied -- sort of the opposite of what he’s dancing around now, but such a vivid experience when he’s in it that he remembers the sensation and always can vibe when it’s coming on. Dr. Han listens carefully, flipping to a clean page in her notepad to jot down his thoughts.
Farkle doesn’t think anything of it, but it seems like Dr. Han might be onto something more than just the typical one-on-one chat. A pronounced clapping counts us in...
INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY
BRANDON RIVAS is clapping along to the downbeat while the Havies run through their showdown routine, the instrumental from How to Succeed playing on the speakers. He’s keeping a watchful eye on his classmates while they run through the choreography, shouting out when someone is off a beat or not sharp enough on the steps.
Charlie is definitely one of those people. He’s a couple of steps behind today, mind elsewhere, and when he accidentally bumps into BILLY ROSS he receives a glare in response. What’s the matter with you, man?
Brandon: Come on, Gardner! This is your choreography!
Fair point, Brandon. Charlie tries to get back on track, but lucky for him he’s far from the only one struggling this week. DWEEZIL HOWARD is out of step too, and his mistakes reverberate way more as he accidentally sends half the boys into a wave of near stumbles. Brandon yells for everyone to stop, shaking his head as Evan jogs to pause the music.
Brandon: This is not the time to get soft, guys. Showdown is right around the corner.
Havie: So what? It’s not like Adams is any competition. Six years of success speak for themselves.
Brandon: And complacency is the first step in breaking that streak. You want to be credited when that takes us down? [ off his head shake ] So, what’s going on? Is there some contagious case of vertigo going around that makes you all unable to balance on your own two feet?
Charlie chews his lip, shying away from the disappointment. He’s not the only recipient, but he knows he doesn’t have a good excuse -- and certainly not one Brandon would want to hear. But Dweezil answers first anyway, much more visibly frazzled than him.
Dweezil: I’m sorry, Brandon. I’m just really stressing about the MIT app.
Others murmur agreement, mentioning their own upcoming dream school deadlines and the pressure of finishing their applications. Charlie nods along as if that’s his problem too.
Brandon considers this for a long moment, scanning over his peers. He may have high expectations, but he’s not without compassion for his boys. He relents and expresses sympathy for everybody’s stress, claiming they can call it quits early today and cut down on afternoon rehearsals for the next few days while everyone is wrapping up applications.
The boys breathe a collective sigh of relief, thanking Brandon and starting to disperse. Brandon shouts after them to send those apps in fast and get ready to come back to work harder than ever -- they’re not going to slip and fall to AAA on his watch. Billy exchanges a handshake with him and suggests he take some time off to focus on himself, too, but Brandon shrugs this off.
Brandon: No, it’s fine. Think I’ll be able to make use of the time… might have to make some adjustments to the numbers anyway. [ quirking an eyebrow ] Make sure we’re the best we can possibly be.
For what it’s worth, the statement seems less than innocuous. It kind of feels like Brandon knows something we don’t, and based on Billy’s smug reaction, he’s in on it too. They exchange another fist bump before Billy heads out.
Charlie is one of the last to leave, pausing in packing up to check his phone. He’s got a surprising amount of texts on his lock screen, all from Daisy. He opens the thread, finding just under a dozen texts of her sharing live updates with him of an argument that apparently broke out between Rosie and Eleanor. Although her observations are characteristically dry and analytical -- a technical play-by-play rather than biased record -- the fact that she’s telling Charlie about it at all is a sign that she’s concerned about it. The final message she sent kind of sums up the looming stakes without saying so:
“Didn’t this happen with Bridgette?”
Either way, not good news. Charlie frowns. Before he figures out how to respond, Brandon startles him.
Brandon: All good, Charles?
Charlie: Uh, yeah. Yeah, just, you know. Lots on my mind. It was cool of you to give everyone a break right now.
Brandon: Well. [ with a shrug ] Nothing too serious going on with you, I hope. We need your talent to up our dance credentials -- I assume you realize by now how valuable you are to the team.
Charlie: Oh, well…
Brandon: Can’t afford to let anything distract us right now if we’re to come out victorious against Adams. [ a beat ] Least of all Adams itself… you know, it’s okay if you’re feeling conflicted…
Conflicted might be a bit strong -- although Charlie lives basically every day of his life conflicted -- but the notion that Brandon is even close to sensing what’s actually going on in his head sets him on edge. He clears his throat, frantically attempting to throw him off the trail.
Charlie: Oh, no. No. It’s um -- just family stuff. Stuff with my sisters.
Brandon: Ah… sibling nonsense. I get that. I’ve got two older brothers, and even though they’re not at home anymore it’s like I’m still carrying their baggage around.
Charlie: Big shoes to fill?
Brandon: Well, one was valedictorian and is starting his first year at Harvard Law, and the other is starting his third year in prison. So kind of high bars in either direction.
Well. No idea how to respond to that little fun fact. Brandon spares Charlie the awkwardness and lets him go, wishing him a good afternoon.
But pleasant as he is, it’s evident he doesn’t fully buy Charlie’s excuse.
INT. CHUBBIES - DAY
Isadora is at the counter at Chubbies, discussing all of the impending stressors with Lucas during his shift. They’re especially mindful of how Lucas’s scholarship plan is now basically hinging solely on a victory at showdown, which is feeling more and more like a long shot. With Zay no longer able to bolster their performance, they’re short star power.
Isadora: And since Haverford has Charlie, who is basically his counterweight, suddenly the scales are tipped heavily in their favor. We’ll be lucky if we can create some Frankenstein performance around the gaping hole Zay leaves behind.
Lucas: Have you thought about stepping up in his place? Not that you’re anywhere near the level of dancer that he is, but you do purportedly have star power.
Isadora: Gee, thanks. I’m honestly shocked you’re suggesting this.
Lucas: Believe me, it hurts. But I’ve got stakes riding on this too, and I know you’re talented. Maybe you could help prop things back up so we’ve got at least a shot of winning.
Isadora: I don’t know… I mean, I know I performed the other week, but it was all about that assignment, you know? It was specifically because it was out of my comfort zone. [ a beat ] Though, why, I don’t even really know anymore…
She feels more confused about performing these days than averse, with all the grieving she’s done over Valerie, but confusion still feels dangerous. Probably safer to just stay on the sidelines… probably...
Speaking of dangerous tasks, Isadora shifts to college applications. She submitted her NYU film school application ages ago, and she’s got a couple of other things in the pipeline, but she’s much more interested in how Lucas is dealing with his. When he feeds her the same lines he’s been telling everyone else, she raises her eyebrows. Not buying it.
Leave it to Isadora to see right through him. Lucas sighs, relenting and explaining that the essays are killing him. It’s like, everything else he can scrape together, fake, pull off like he’s scraped through everything else in his life. But the personal statements…
Lucas: I hate writing about myself. Why should all of my potential rest on how well I can sell myself in some 500-word anecdote? As if that paints the complete picture. Not that I want that either -- the full picture isn’t pretty. How am I supposed to convince some strangers to take a chance on me when I don’t even believe it? If I had the choice whether or not to know myself, I wouldn’t.
Isadora: Wonder what that says about those of us who do choose to know you.
Lucas: And what am I going to say? Howdy, I’m a son of a bitch, please let me into your school and give me your money to do so? Great fucking deal.
Isadora rolls her eyes. She points out that although he doesn’t want to hear it, when it comes to finances he knows she can help. Once the money from her inheritance fully comes through, she’ll have plenty that she doesn’t know what to do with. If she’s going to use it to help others -- especially those she cares about -- then helping him pursue his dreams is a non-issue. But, predictably, Lucas recoils at the suggestion.
Isadora: I swear, you are impossible. And you have such a weird hang-up about money.
Lucas: Yeah, views that you shared until about a month ago.
Isadora: Well, I’ve grown. I can see the nuances in money now and how it goes around. And I’m just saying that if you’ve got all these complexes around who has it and who can give it to you when you’re stuck on the bottom rung, then --
No doubt it’s a complicated series of complexes. As Isadora is settling into her rant, MISSY BRADFORD enters the diner. Lucas glances over Isadora’s shoulder and spots her, immediately clamming up.
Isadora: ...it’s what Reagan sold as trickle-down economics, but the thing is if you don’t give any money to the lowest income households from the get-go, then they never --
Lucas: Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ve got to go to the back.
Lucas retreats from the counter without waiting for permission, causing Isadora to scoff. She wasn’t finished! But he’s already gone, leaving her high and dry. But he also successfully avoided Missy, who steps up the counter for a pick-up order and is helped by another employee instead. She doesn’t acknowledge Isadora, who eyes her judgmentally from her stool.
As Missy collects her order and leaves -- glancing over her shoulder one last time for her usual Chubbies worker -- Dylan and Asher enter with Farkle. They join Isadora at the counter, asking where Lucas is. She shrugs, claiming he disappeared to deal with something.
Farkle: You ready to go? Is Maya here yet?
Isadora: Not yet. Figure she’ll be a bit late after the “atomic bomb” Jack dropped on her and Lucas -- her words, not mine.
Asher: What are you all up to?
Isadora: Since Farkle and I were technically responsible for the destruction in the auditorium --
Farkle: One could make the argument that I should have died last year.
Dylan: That would be a sick personal essay.
Isadora: We thought it was only fair that we put in the time to help Maya craft whatever last-minute fundraising effort we’re going to pull together to cover it.
As for Dylan and Asher, they were just stopping by to catch up with Lucas before going to practice their assignment for the week. Isadora commends Asher for performing again, considering it was so out of his comfort zone.
Farkle: Yeah, that’s not -- you’re not thinking of making that a habit, are you? Not asking for any reason, just curious. Not because you’re also a tenor. I’m just wondering.
Isadora: Smooth.
Asher: No, not planning to change career paths. Rest easy, Farkle. Just getting this out of the way sooner rather than later. [ nodding to Dylan ] It’s not as bad since we’re doing it together. And besides, can’t ignore the pull of the funk.
Dylan, wisely: Disco is for the gays.
Asher: Gotta pay our dues and get down with the boogie.
Far out, fellas! Isadora and Farkle wish them luck and head out together. Isadora asks Farkle how his therapy appointment went, and while his answer is unbothered, he definitely seems to be a little spacy this week. Isadora notices and considers asking him about it, but opts not to press further. They’ve got enough going on right now.
INT. GARDNER HOME - ROSIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
ROSIE GARDNER is huddled up in her bedroom, begrudgingly working on homework. She’s got Niall Horan playing, and the volume is turned up loud. It takes multiple knocks on her door before Rosie hears, shouting over the noise.
Rosie: Go away! I’m busy.
Charlie, from the hall: It’s me. Can we talk for a minute?
Rosie sighs, but gets up. She opens the door and spins back around to drop back into her seat at her desk, not bothering to greet him. But she let him in, which is more than anyone else has managed this evening.
Charlie blinks as the pop music assaults his ears. He gently closes the door behind him, raising his voice over Niall.
Charlie: Think you could turn Niall down for a second?
Rosie: Huh?
Charlie: Turn your boyfriend down so we can actually hear each other!
Rosie: Ugh. You’re so not funny.
And yet, she relents and lowers the volume. Charlie makes a show of shaking off the ringing in his ears, knocking his ear slightly.
Charlie: Just checking for significant damage. Need industrial strength noise-cancelling headphones to come in here. Like they wear when they guide airplanes onto the runway.
Rosie: You are so annoying. Did you want something, or?
Charlie explains that Daisy texted him that afternoon about a fight she apparently had with mom. She seemed pretty concerned, so he just wanted to check in. Is everything okay? Rosie rolls her eyes.
Rosie: It’s so whatever. Daisy is exaggerating.
Charlie: I don’t think Daisy is capable of exaggeration. We took all the drama genes, there wasn’t any left for her.
Rosie: Well, she is. Yeah, mom and I argued, but it’s like… it’s dumb, whatever. I don’t even care.
Charlie: You’re listening to your sad 1D playlist.
Rosie: I said I don’t care, Charlie. And I can listen to whatever I want whenever I want.
Charlie: Okay, well, can you at least tell me what it was about? Or what’s --
Rosie: Ugh. It was nothing! Can you mind your own business and leave me alone? I’m trying to work.
Yikes. Rosie has always had a little bit of early teen venom in her, but this feels like more than that. Charlie doesn’t want to just let it drop, but it’s more than obvious she will not be having any productive conversations right now.
Charlie: Okay. I’m only -- if you want to talk about anything, you know you can tell me. I’m here to listen. [ a beat ] Okay?
Rosie: [ not bothering to look at him ] Okay. Whatever. Thanks.
She turns Niall back up, effectively ending the talk. Charlie hangs around for a moment longer, words he wants to say on the tip of his tongue, but for now there’s nothing to be done. He reluctantly retreats, the ghost of the past looming over him.
INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Farkle, Maya and Isadora are spread out around Farkle’s bedroom as they brainstorm ideas for fundraising. Maya paces around, occasionally picking up little trinkets and inspecting them before putting them back down in the wrong place. Isadora, meanwhile, is laying down on Farkle’s bed on her back, her head hanging upside down off the side. Farkle has gathered a blanket around him as he sits at the other end of the bed.
Maya: You need to add some meat to that stick of a body, Farkle. You can’t keep living like an orphan who’s freezing to death on the streets of Victorian London.
Farkle: It’s not my fault I have a fast metabolism. You’re just jealous.
Maya: Yes, I’m very jealous of the boy who looks like he’s dying of scurvy.
Isadora snorts in amusement, for which Farkle shoots a glare at her.
Maya: Go get us some snacks, orphan boy. We’ll fatten you up Hansel and Gretel style.
Farkle: This is offensive to orphans everywhere, I hope you know.
Isadora: As the only orphan here, I’m not offended. Maya, you may continue your bullying.
Maya grins, but Isadora frowns as she realizes what she said. Technically, she isn’t an orphan, if her father is out there alive... despite rolling his eyes, Farkle does get up to get snacks, blanket still tightly wrapped around him.
Once she and Maya are alone, Isadora sits up straight and turns towards her, lips pursed in thought as she considers what she wants to say.
Isadora: Do you know who your dad is?
Maya stops wandering around and looks at Isadora in surprise.
Maya: Where’d that come from?
Isadora: I don’t know. Just wondering about the orphan thing, I guess.
Maya: Izzy, that was just a joke. And directed towards Farkle. All jeers are reserved for our darling beanpole -- I’m not stupid enough to drag you.
Isadora: Appreciated. [ a beat ] I know nothing about my dad.
Maya: [ with a shrug ] I know my dad’s name and some basic facts about him, like his job, but nothing else.
Isadora: Have you ever considered getting in touch with him? What if he’s out there somewhere? Mine or yours.
Maya: When I was younger I thought about it… but he abandoned me, so what’s the point? If he wanted me in his life, I would be. He knows who I am and how to contact me, but he hasn’t. Why waste my precious time and energy dealing with him when I already have my mom? She’s all I need.
Isadora nods, considering this. Her father situation is quite different to Maya’s, so not all that helpful. Regardless, it’s something to think about. Maya is pensive, too, mind now occupied by thoughts of Katy. Isadora notices her shift in mood.
Isadora: You miss her?
Maya: [ with a theatrical sigh ] Always. [ then, a bittersweet smile ] It’s okay, every artist has to have their tragic backstory. It’s good. Gives me personal agony to work through.
Isadora: … well, actually --
Before she can say anything further, Farkle returns with an armful of snacks. He tosses them at Maya and Isadora.
Farkle: Here you go, little piggies. Oink oink.
Maya: You can’t say that to us, we’re women.
Isadora: We could have you cancelled for that.
Maya: Besides, as the only poor one present, I reserve all rights to the word pig. [ eyeing them ] Capitalist swine…
Farkle: Yeah, speaking of lack of funding...
The conversation moves on, back to fundraising, but Maya gets out her phone to send Katy a quick message letting her know that she misses her.
INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Boogie Shoes” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Asher Garcia & Dylan Orlando
Kicking off the first official performance for the ‘70s theme, Asher launches us into number with an impressive opening note. He starts at the top of the stairs in the atrium, starting down the steps while singing towards Dylan, who’s waiting down below. When he sings “boy, to be with you is my favorite thing,” Dylan playfully points to himself and beams. They’re both dressed in modern-day approximations of disco garb -- colorful dress shirts, glossy vests with matching flare pants, funky patterned ascots.
And they’re setting the standard for what performances will be like without the usual stage of the auditorium. Their chosen location is the atrium, mostly empty as it’s during class hours, the rest of the A class scattered around the space to watch and provide back-up vocals (as well as their usual reactions and applause). Zay is particularly torn, clearly flipping between jealousy that he can’t be dancing and basically vibrating with the infectious groove.
In the case of Dylan and Asher, there is plenty to cheer for. They’re simply undeniably a joy to watch, especially with each other, and Dylan was right when he said disco is for the gays. They’ve got the night fever, full of energy and charm as they dance together. On the “woo!” during the bridge, Dylan lifts Asher in a funky little hop moment. And Asher’s vocal runs throughout are nothing to scoff at either.
It’s a smashing way to start the assignments off right!
INT. AAA - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY
As strong a showing as that little number was, the upbeat mood doesn’t last long. Stress dominates in the meeting between Maya, Yindra, Farkle, Jeff, and Isadora, who are deliberating on the current status of their showdown setlist. They’re attempting to analyze it and rework with the knowledge that Zay will not be able to participate, but it’s easier said than done.
Lack of focus doesn’t help matters. Farkle is noticeably zoned out, lost in his own head, and Maya has to snap at him to get him back at attention. This is not amateur hour! No time for spacing out, Farkle! He apologizes, but Isadora notices he still seems far away somehow.
The fervent discussion is immediately halted when Zay enters the studio, realizing they’ve all convened to work without him. He asks what gives.
Maya: It’s not personal, Zayby. But considering your current situation...
Zay: I’m still choreographer. Even if I’m not performing, I should be included in meetings. Especially if you’re talking about altering the routine.
Jeff: We’re not.
Farkle: At least, not right now.
Isadora, diplomatically: We just know that not being able to participate is difficult for you, so Riley suggested… we figured it would be better not to like… force you to deal with it. Or rub it in your face.
Maya: Exactly. See? We’re doing this for you.
How sweet. But Zay isn’t moved. He grows defensive, nodding along but dripping with sarcasm.
Zay: Great. Thanks. Well I guess if you need to drag me out of the recycling bin to comment on choreography, you all know how to reach me.
He storms out -- a bit unevenly on his boot -- leaving them awkwardly in his absence. Farkle clears his throat. The only who doesn’t seem uncomfortable is Maya, who shifts gears back to the matter at hand effortlessly. It’s just business, after all.
Maya: So star power --
INT. THRIFT SHOP - DAY
Riley is searching the racks for an outfit for the ‘70s dance, Charlie in tow. Every now and then, she’ll find a vintage shirt that’s his size and hold it up against his chest just on instinct, always on the lookout for her friends even if they’re not looking themselves.
Riley: It’s amazing how every color looks good on you. You should really consider branching out beyond neutrals and inoffensive shades of blue.
Tell us something we don’t know, Riles. Charlie brushes off her compliments, keeping his focus on the topic at hand while they shop. He’s seeking advice on how to handle arguing family members, since unfortunately, Riley has plenty of relevant experience with that. He’s had it in his family before with Bridgette, but he can’t remember much of it and honestly, one of the keys to their family dynamic is how most unpleasant things occur behind closed doors. Most of the time, they don’t even know when something is wrong with each other.
Riley: Do you have any more details? I feel like context would help.
Charlie: Nope. I only heard about it through Daisy, and when I tried to talk to Rosie, she wouldn’t budge.
Riley contemplates and admits she’s hesitant to try and give advice when the context is so vague and wide open, but ultimately the most important thing she thinks he could do is to continue being there for Rosie. He told her he was, and that’s the best he can do under the circumstances. If he actually witnesses another argument for himself, then that’s a different story.
Riley: But no matter what happens, try not to let yourself get caught in the middle of it. I mean, you should help where you can, but there’s nothing worse than trying to fix problems that aren’t yours and you can’t control. It’s between them, not you, and trying to mend it from the outside is only going to result in failure and frustration. You have to look out for your own well-being first. I wish someone had told me that before my parents fell apart.
Very important advice. Charlie thanks her and expresses sympathy for her messy parental situation again, but she shrugs it off and moves past it. Instead she finds another cute ‘70s material button down in classic sky blue, enthusiastically lifting it up to measure against Charlie.
Riley: Pair a blazer with this, and you’d be all set to boogie. Makes your eyes pop too… ugh, you’re so pretty it’s disgusting.
Charlie: I thought we were shopping for you, not me. I’m not the one who gets to disco.
Riley: Well, that’s not necessarily true. The fundraiser is open to everyone -- that’s the only way we’re going to make any profit, after all. And you know you’d be more than welcome.
Charlie: Yeah, maybe… with showdown so close and everything…
Riley: Charlie. [ holding his gaze ] You’re family. Forget showdown, forget east and west side. As long as I’m around, you fit. And I know for sure I’m not the only one who feels that way. Got it? Can you dig it?
Charlie, grateful: I can dig it.
Riley: Righteous. I’m serious though, what you should dig is this shirt.
As Riley shifts back to searching for her own look, they jump to chatting about college applications. Charlie asks how hers are going after she explains Lucas’s poorly concealed stress about them, and she claims they’re going fine.
Riley: I’m a pretty textbook candidate, all things considered, and my poor tragic backstory of being bullied out of school and divorced parents sure makes for great personal essay fodder.
Charlie: Kind of weird how they teach us to exploit our own trauma…
Riley: I’m definitely applying to Barnard, and I’ve decided I’m going to throw my hat in the ring for Tisch even though it’s basically the longest shot there is. Add in a handful of second choice picks and you get the idea. But honestly, I’m not all that pressed about it right now. I feel like it’s going to be way harder when acceptances and rejections come through and it’s all… real. I can throw any application out there I want and I don’t have to do anything about it. When I actually know what my options are… then it’ll be real. You know? When I actually have to decide what path I want to take. Because right now, I feel like I have no idea what I want that to be.
Charlie nods, agreeing wholeheartedly. He definitely knows the feeling of not having any idea what he wants the future to be… as the low hum of an unfamiliar instrument floats in…
INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Amazing Grace” as performed by The Military Band of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards || Performed by Dave Williams
In what is probably the weirdest performance AMBITION has seen to date, Dave stands alone in front of the classroom and goes to town on the bagpipes. Yes, apparently, Dave Williams can play the bagpipes (though whether he plays them well is a whole other story). And he gives it his all on this immensely famous tune, bewildering his peers and rendering them speechless.
That being said, while they can’t find any words, that doesn’t stop the A class from reacting. The expressions range from confused to stunned to struggling to keep it together. Maya stares in disbelief and then scrunches her face, looking around to see if anyone else is seeing this. Zay and Nigel are on the verge of tears from stifling their laughter; Yogi is misty-eyed from sheer emotion at his best friend’s… powerful performance. Nate mouths trying to sing along to the screechy tones with an absolutely delighted grin, while Dylan emulates the patriotic vibe by standing and giving a salute. Asher shakes his head from next to him, also hiding laughter behind his hand.
When Dave finally concludes, releasing a big exhale, the room is filled with silence for a long moment. Yogi starts the applause that the others uncertainly mimic, until Isadora finally, bluntly breaks the silence.
Isadora: Okay, I’m just going to say it -- what the hell, Dave?
Dave: What? Is something wrong?
Sarah: Where the hell did this come from? Are you seriously damaged?
Yindra: Forget that. I’m dying to know when you learned to play the bagpipes. And why have you deprived us of it for so long?
Farkle: The assignment is ‘70s music. How did you end up on “Amazing Grace?”
Dave, baffled: I don’t get what the big deal is. I found the song on a ‘70s playlist on Spotify, I can show you. And I looked it up -- the fig Newton dude wrote the song in 1779.
Clarissa: Fig newton --
Zay: [ at his wits end trying not to laugh ] I can’t. I can’t --
Dave: 1779! So it’s from the ‘70s.
All, in unison: 1970s, Dave!
Dave: … WHAT?!
The class descends into hysterics. Harper attempts to thank Dave for an… interesting performance, if nothing else.
Harley: I found it quite spirited. Very much enjoyed.
Dave huffs, marching back to his desk. He drops his bagpipes on the desktop --
EXT. AAA - REAR PARKING LOT - DAY
Which becomes a soapy sponge landing with a splat on the hood of a car, Haley working to scrub it clean. A few more quick shots help establish the setting -- Jeff and Darby untangling hoses; Riley and Chai filling up buckets of water; Asher ringing out a washcloth as far away from his body as he can stretch it, mildly disgusted.
Yes, Maya’s new fundraising scheme is in full swing -- a car wash! Cars are lining up for the A class to give a shining clean-up. Considering they threw the concept together in just a couple of days, it’s really not a shabby showing. Maya is praising her own quick thinking by the pay table, where they’re also selling baked goods. Zay is manning the cash box, since he can’t do much else.
Maya: I swear, sometimes my own mind amazes me. Never lets me down. And you can’t go wrong with a good old-fashioned classic.
Zay: Yeah, except car washes are usually in the summer. Not the dregs of autumn when we’re all going to get hypothermia.
Maya: It’s actually unseasonably warm today. And that’s the brilliance of it. Who else is doing a car wash in this weather economy? No competition, big bucks.
At least the weather is nice. With them out in their cotton shorts and tees to do all this work, Zay’s right to have reservations. But the sun is out, and the income has been steady thus far. Nate finishes off drying a car with Dylan, who has his hair pushed back with a tie-dye bandana.
Nate: You know, we should all just wet our shirts. That will get the girls and gays to come running.
Maya: [ into her bullhorn ] Don’t accelerate the hypothermia, Martinez. Keep it classy.
Nate: You’re turning down a million-dollar idea!
Maya waves him off, gesturing that he get back to work. And they all put it together real fast when another customer pulls up at the end of the line, EVELYN RAND emerging from her nice SUV and coming over to greet them. She commends them for their efficient set up.
Maya: That’s all thanks to me, Maya Penelope Hart. Vice President and overall go-getter. I’m the one that makes things happen.
Evelyn: And modest as they come, too.
Evelyn happily accepts Maya’s handshake, but she tosses a wink to Zay and Clarissa working the bake sale table. She claims she’s eager to help the cause, and she’s sure they’ll do an excellent job with her car. While she waits, she’s hoping to have a brief chat with Jack, so can she just leave her keys with them? She trusts them to move her vehicle twenty feet when it’s her turn.
Maya: Of course. We here in the A class pride ourselves on our care and attention. Your vehicle is safe with us.
Zay snorts, turning it into a cough. Evelyn hands over her keys pleasantly, waving to the rest of the kids working as she heads into the building. Maya spins the key ring on her finger for a moment, contemplating.
Maya: Can’t afford to screw this up. Gonna need someone extremely anal and annoyingly cautious to handle this one. [ into the bullhorn ] Garcia! Get your persnickety nonexistent ass over here!
Nigel arrives at that moment with a takeout bag in his hands. He tries to weave through the cars and avoid drill sergeant Maya as he heads towards the back entrance to the school, but unfortunately he’s not slick enough.
Maya: Chey! What do you think you’re doing? Cars are over here.
Nigel: Oh. Yes. Well, Jade’s holed up in the costume loft with all the projects she’s finishing…
Maya, unmoved: Uh huh.
Nigel: And I know she isn’t great about eating when she’s under this much stress, so I brought her some food to eat while she works. And I thought I’d go… give it to her… [ quickly ] okay, check you later.
He turns and speeds towards the entrance, making his swift escape. Riley saunters over to join them at the cash table, tilting her head fondly.
Riley: That’s so sweet.
Maya: Meh. A convenient excuse.
Zay: And how are you one to talk, Maya? You realize standing around shouting orders at everyone isn’t work.
Riley: Come on, Madam Vice President. Time to put in a little elbow grease.
Zay raises his eyebrows, accenting Riley’s challenge. Pride in jeopardy, Maya sniffs and relinquishes her bullhorn, placing it on the table. She spins and flips her ponytail over her shoulder, marching over to contribute to the cause. Riley and Zay exchange amused looks, while the boombox blasting the iconic opening hand claps takes over the soundscape...
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Car Wash” as performed by Rose Royce || Performed by Maya Hart (feat. AAA Seniors)
You all knew it was coming. The moment we started scrubbing those fenders, you should’ve seen it coming. Maya leads the A class in a funky rendition of the disco classic, swaying her hips and swinging her ponytail as they put in the hard work (though, somehow, Maya still manages to avoid most of the heavy lifting). She handles most of the verses, though Yindra also takes some of the spotlight with vocal runs. Nate perfects his slutdrop as he cleans tires.
In the midst of the grooving, the business is bumping. Interspersed amongst the performing we see Clarissa and Dylan charming patrons at the bake sale table, money changing hands, and Zay dutifully keeping track of everything as he mans the pay station.
On the last chorus, Maya has made her way onto a roof of one of the cars, Yindra, Haley, and Darby emulating her on the other cars they’re working on. The A class does some rad synced choreography to take the number home, Maya sliding down the front windshield and kicking up her leg before Farkle makes the finishing swipe of a washcloth across the hood.
Car wash! Zay deposits another payment into the cashbox, snapping it closed with a flourish.
Evelyn’s car is now closer to the front of the pack, and more business is still coming. Charlie makes his way over from the parking lot, waving to Riley as he makes his way over to the tables. Clarissa and Dylan greet him cheerfully, Riley and Maya jogging over from the line of cars. Zay doesn’t say anything, but offers a hesitant smile, which is better than nothing. Charlie mirrors it.
Clarissa comes out from behind the table to give him a hug, but warns him not to let Haley see him -- she’s soaked and will probably get him all damp. Charlie claims he didn’t plan to stay long, he just wanted to come by and see how things were going, as well drop off some baked goods they could sell that he and his sisters made. Dylan takes them happily. Maya asks where his car is and what kind of wash he wants, which Charlie awkwardly laughs off.
Charlie: I wouldn’t make you guys do that. But I can make a contribution --
Maya: Please, what do you think this is, a pity party? We don’t accept charity.
Zay: Yes we do.
Clarissa: We’ll take all the charity you’ve got.
Maya: This is a business, and we provide a service. So put your boring little sedan in line and turn your patronization into profit.
Riley: Maya, if he doesn’t want --
Charlie: You know what? Okay. [ raising his hands in surrender ] I’ll take whatever the easiest job is. Meet in the middle.
Fair enough. Maya relents, going back to shouting orders at others. Zay shows Charlie what their pricing options are, and though Charlie is going for the cheapest one, he overpays anyway.
Charlie: What Maya doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
Zay: Yeah, and it’ll probably save us.
They exchange something close to a conspiratorial wink. Riley senses that they’re actually communicating without imminent disaster, so she comes over to join them. Charlie asks how business is going -- it seems to be moving pretty swiftly. Riley is optimistic, claiming that between this and the dance -- which is garnering a lot of buzz on social media -- they may just cover their expenses yet. At mention of the dance, Riley makes a quip about how Charlie should’ve bought that shirt at the thrift shop to wear, which catches Zay’s attention.
Zay: You’re coming?
Charlie: Oh, no. No, I wasn’t, um… I hadn’t really thought about it.
Zay: Oh.
Charlie, shyly: … would it be okay if I did?
Zay meets his eyes, uncharacteristically timid. He doesn’t know what to say, because he honestly doesn’t know how he feels about the possibility. Things aren’t as tense as they were before, and they’ve managed to break some of the ice that’s frozen them in place, but it’s far from thawed. He doesn’t know if he wants it to be or not. It’s all confusing, and being put on the spot proves just how much.
He’s spared from answering when Isadora pipes up from the curb.
Isadora: Oh, fuck no.
Charlie jumps, turning to search for the problem. Zay leans around him to look too. The issue is not hard to identify.
The Haverford boys. A whole bunch of them, rolling up in their classy cars, totally filling up the back end of the car wash line. Billy honks obnoxiously in his, waving to the washers working further down the row.
Brandon hops out of his car, the rest of the boys following suit. He leads the saunter over to the tables, where Maya, Farkle, and Isadora rush to head them off. Charlie stares as they approach, obviously mortified that they’re here; Zay frowns, glancing at him suspiciously.
Maya: What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re blocking the line.
Dweezil: Blocking? Is that any way to speak to a customer?
Isadora: One we’re about to kick the hell out, yeah.
The congregation bristles, but Brandon holds up his hands -- both out of innocence and to signal his crew to halt. He remains smooth and unbothered as ever, calmly stating that they’re simply here to support the cause.
Brandon: It’s the least we could do, showing up for the less fortunate. We want showdown to be a fair fight, don’t we?
Maya: Oh, if that’s what you’re looking for, we can give you a fight.
[ Brandon raises his eyebrows, clearly amused by Maya’s sharp spunk. ]
Farkle: How did you all even hear about this?
Brandon: Why, I would think that’s obvious. Charles told us.
[ Many eyes throw to Charlie at once. He swallows, dipping his head. ]
Brandon: Well, technically, he told Evan, but I don’t see why he didn’t just share it with the boys. Evan was more than happy to pass the message along, though, and we all thought it was just a swell idea. Quaint, really.
Billy: Yeah, where’s the lemonade stand? You should jump on that hot market next.
But belittlement aside, they really are here to get their cars washed. That’s all. The A class can take it or leave it, but if they choose to turn away willing customers then that’s their prerogative.
Well… business is business. Maya forces a smile, keeping her diva daggers locked on Brandon as she instructs Isadora and Farkle to go start filling the buckets. Brandon holds her glare, evenly matched with his cool, subtle smirk.
INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY
Jack is enjoying a catch-up with Angela over coffee, in generally good spirits all things considered. As he says, it’s nice to take a moment to forget all of the stress and just chat with a good friend. Angela is touched, placing her hand on her chest. She claims if her visit will be good for anything then, that’s a great reason.
The two of them get on the topic of her pregnancy, and how she’s feeling about impending motherhood. She confides that Shawn is way more nervous about it than she is, but ultimately she feels okay about it. Pregnancy isn’t the most fun experience in the world, but she has always thought that a family would be part of her future. Considering she’s not getting any younger, it feels like the right time.
She asks if Jack ever thought about having kids, and he grows a bit more somber. It’s not that he hasn’t thought about it… and to be honest, he figured if he did he’d beat Shawn to it, but clearly that wasn’t in his cards. And now here he is, coming off a failed serious relationship, already in his 40s…
Angela: It’s never too late, Jack. If it’s something you really want. I mean, hell, look at Eric! He skipped all the hard stuff, too.
Jack: I guess that is one way to look at Isadora’s tragic loss…
Angela: I’m just saying, never say never. You’re a great mentor, responsible and fair, and you care. You care a lot. If you chose to try, whether by yourself or with a partner, I think you’d be a great dad.
Maybe… it all just feels so out of the realm of possibility. Besides, he argues, he basically has 200 kids at any given time to take care of. It’s not the same, no, but he watches out for the Adams students as seriously as he would his own. And you know, sometimes…
Jack: Every once in a while, it kind of feels like they are.
It’s not hard to guess who he’s thinking about. Angela starts to question him further, thinking this is probably a meaningful discussion to have, but they’re interrupted by Evelyn knocking briskly on the door. She greets both of them cheerfully.
Evelyn: So nice to see you again, Angela! I do hope I’m not intruding on anything important -- I meant to come sooner, but I got caught up in a riveting chat with Mister Keiner.
Jack: No, of course not.
Angela: In fact, I was just getting ready to head out, so I will get out of your hair.
Jack: I just wasn’t expecting you.
Evelyn: No need to rush, Angela. [ to Jack ] I’m just here to participate in that splendid car wash you’ve got out back. They’ve got a great little operation going, I have to say. And that Maya Hart -- talk about a firecracker.
Jack: Trust us, we’re quite familiar with her spark.
Angela bids both of them goodbye, promising Jack she’ll see him later. Once they’re alone, Evelyn commends Jack on inspiring his students to find creative ways to fund their financial endeavors. Especially given how their original proposal for the scholarships was voted down at the school board. In her opinion, she was hoping they’d at least contribute a portion -- she thought it was a nifty idea.
Jack: Yes, they weren’t thrilled to hear the decision either.
Evelyn: It’s disappointing, although hardly surprising considering the way Jefferson campaigned behind closed doors. He’s got a fairly influential stake in the voting bloc, unfortunately.
Jack: What? What do you mean?
Evelyn: Oh, Jack, I thought you already knew. It was an extremely close vote on the board to provide funding, but Jefferson tipped the scales against it. He and Yancy basically talked it down for days with colleagues before the actual tally.
Um, no, Jack did not know about that, and it obviously pisses him off. He’s speechless, trying to process the blatant partisan maneuvers being played against them within the inner workings of the board. Especially from someone who is now working within the walls of AAA. He knew Yancy didn’t like him, but this…
EXT. AAA - REAR PARKING LOT - DAY
The Haverford boys are loitering while they wait for the A class to finish cleaning their cars, showing how completely unbothered they are to hang around and watch their competitors sweat. Charlie is also hovering to nervously keep an eye on things, staying with Clarissa at the baked goods table and nibbling on a sugar cookie.
From where he’s scrubbing Dweezil’s windshield dry, Nate glares at them derisively.
Nate: Rich pricks. I should smash this damn window…
Yogi: Easy, bulldog.
Dave: Just smile and wash, boys. Smile and wash.
Thankfully, they’re efficient, and it doesn’t take them long to grit their teeth through the work. Maya slaps her washcloth against Brandon’s hood, declaring it finished, then marches her way back over to where he’s slouched against a lamp pole near the pay table.
Maya: Alright, knock-off Warblers, your cars are done.
Evan: Warblers?
Dweezil: From Glee.
Billy: Ha! She thinks we watched Glee.
Bottom line is, their business here is done, so they can roll their asses out. Maya essentially shoos them, but Zay pipes up from the pay table.
Zay: Um, they can’t go yet. They’ve still got a tab to settle.
Maya: They didn’t pay upfront?
Billy: Well, couldn’t very well do that. Why would we pay you before we get any proof that you’re going to do a good job? It’s simply smart shopping.
Clarissa: Well, the job is done now. So you can pay up.
Brandon: Ooh… see, I think there might’ve been a misunderstanding here.
Charlie tenses, sensing impending doom. He steps out from behind the table in case he needs to mediate, just as Isadora and Farkle march back over with their buckets and rags to see what the hold up is. They’ve got other potential customers waiting.
Brandon: Another smart business practice is to agree on the terms and conditions before you make a deal. Now, we always knew our payment was going to be contingent on the quality of the work. Sure, Babineaux here laid out the pricing for us, but we didn’t get anything in writing. You didn’t get our John Hancocks signing off on it.
Zay: You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
Charlie, nervously: Come on, guys --
Maya: So you mean to tell me that we just spent the better part of an hour scrubbing your ungrateful little shits until they shined, and blocking other well-intentioned customers from coming in the meantime, only for you to stiff us at checkout?
Dweezil: At least we made you look busy.
Billy: Yeah, consider it practice. We know you could use all of that you can get.
Brandon: [ with a shrug ] Should’ve gotten it in writing.
Isadora: Yeah? Well how about you fucking get this --
She and Farkle snap first, lifting their buckets and sloshing them directly at Brandon. It catches him off-guard, totally dousing him in sudsy water.
Charlie: Oh no.
Riley, from the curb: Oh no.
Billy: Oh, hell no!
Hit the queen bee, feel the sting of the workers! The Havies immediately fire back, grabbing whatever they can get their hands on -- hoses, abandoned buckets -- and lobbing it back at Isadora and Farkle.
And with that, it’s a full-on brawl. Water and soap flying in every direction, the other Havies and Adams seniors launching into the battle without hesitation. Maya shrieks as she’s soaked, shouting for her classmates to take the Havies out. Zay salvages the cash box and dives under the table, taking cover.
INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY
Jack is still searching for what to say in response to the bombshell information Evelyn dropped, but Harley leaps in the doorway and gets both their attention.
Harley: Major problem at the car wash. It’s completely devolved.
Jack exchanges a quick look with Evelyn, then jumps up from his chair.
EXT. AAA - REAR PARKING LOT - DAY
Jack and Harley emerge as the water fight is in full swing, and basically everyone is dripping in soap water. Jack takes control and marches into the fray, stepping into authoritarian mode and demanding that all of the nonsense cease. The Adams students drop their weapons immediately, not daring to get even a drop on their principal.
Though he doesn’t command the same respect with the Haverford boys, they don’t push it any further. They got what they came for, managing to derail the car wash and pull a fast one on the A class. They cackle with laughter as they sprint back to their cars, piling inside in record time and peeling out of the parking lot.
Brandon’s car is one of the last to leave, catching the eye of Maya, Zay, and Charlie through the passenger window. He smirks and tosses a wink in their direction, but it’s impossible to say who it was meant for. Maybe all of them.
None of them look especially pleased either way. Maya shoots a death glare at Charlie, even though he arguably got the worst of it, completely drenched from head to toe. If he was in on the whole thing, he looks pretty miserable about it.
Break 1.
INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY
Now in fresh, comfy clothes and bare faces, Riley, Isadora and Maya lounge around in Isa’s bedroom. Maya’s hair is up in a towel wrap, while Riley’s is down and in the process of drying, and Isadora’s is pulled back into a messy bun. Isadora is also wearing her glasses rather than usual contacts. With a stretch, Maya hops from the bed.
Maya: I never want to work like that ever again. I’m exhausted, in pain, and starving. Is this Hell?
Riley: You truly weren’t built for working class, were you?
Tell her about it! Maya disappears to raid Eric’s fridge, leaving Riley and Isadora free from her complaints. Isadora uses the opportunity to pick Riley’s brain.
Isadora: What do you think our chances are in the showdown? Full disclosure.
Riley: Full disclosure? Not great. [ with a sigh ] But we could still pull through. If we work hard enough, and come together to --
Isadora: I don’t need the full spiel, but thanks. I know how stressed Lucas and Maya are about it, and I’m considering -- considering is the key word here -- offering to perform. You know, if it would help.
Riley’s face lights up, but upon seeing Isadora’s level glare, tries to suppress her smile. She fails.
Isadora: Don’t look at me. Forget I said anything.
Riley: Aw, come on. I’m happy you’re thinking about it yourself instead of, like, being peer pressured by Maya or something.
Isadora: She’s very nearly at her breaking point, I can tell. Every day her will to just let me be is deteriorating bit by bit.
Riley: I think… not to get too Uncle Eric here, but I feel like because you keep thinking of performing as doing it in front of an audience, like being judged, it’s holding you back. You should just do it for the joy of it. Why were you drawn to performing in the first place?
Isadora, reluctantly: … because it was fun...
Riley: Exactly! Because it’s fun. You have to have fun with it.
In fact… Riley brightens with an idea, reaching for her phone and searching for a song.
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Lady Marmalade” as performed by LaBelle || Performed by Riley Matthews, Maya Hart & Isadora De La Cruz
[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along here! ]
As the bass and keys begin, Riley stands up on Isadora’s bed, pulling her up with her. Riley sings the initial “hey sister, go sister” to Isadora, who stands awkwardly in the middle of the bed, not looking all that impressed.
In the first verse, Maya walks into the room with her haul from the kitchen. Her mouth opens when she sees Riley singing.
Maya: Are we doing this? Okay, we’re doing this.
She drops the snacks without a care, jumping onto the bed to join Riley -- just in time for the chorus. They move around Isadora as they belt out iconic vocals, trying to get her in the groove.
Maya takes on the second verse with Riley on the backing vocals. Although Isadora tries to remain stoic, she can’t help but begin to vibe with them. By the end of the next chorus, she’s singing along, too. In French, no less! But maybe let’s not look up the lyric translation…
In the instrumental break, the three girls get down from the bed and strut forwards towards the door. They pass through it one at a time, puffs of makeup and glitter blowing around them in slow-mo as they do.
INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY
This time, the temporary performance space is the lecture hall, which is an inspired choice since it actually has a pseudo-stage and lighting capabilities.
When they emerge onto the small stage, they’re in full glam. Hair glossy, makeup glowing, and outfits iconique. They each wear a skintight jumpsuit along with oversized faux fur coats. Riley’s getup is a white jumpsuit and yellow coat, Isadora’s is a blue jumpsuit and pink coat, and Maya’s is a pink jumpsuit and white coat. They strut to the front of the stage, spotlights on them.
Isadora takes charge of the next verse, confidently singing and dancing with her friends by her side. Riley and Maya come in towards the end, before all three complete the rest of the song together. It’s glamorous, it’s sultry, it’s powerful. Foxy, ladies!
We fade out of the performance to see the rest of the class and Harper as they applaud. Although the girls don’t look quite as glam out of the performance-dreamscape, they look just as badass. Lucas and Farkle in particular seem stunned by the performance.
INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY
Zay hands over the cash box from the car wash to Lucas.
Zay: Despite the carnage, the most important thing survived.
And, in spite of the disastrous end, it seems like they made good for their work. They raked in a pretty penny for all the scrubbing and washing -- it’s far from all that they need, but it should make a sizable dent in the auditorium accident debt. And that’s not nothing.
Lucas thanks Zay for his help and for watching the money, getting up to put it in a safe place in the booth. He claims he can’t do it until Zay leaves, though, since there are certain things only he should know about the booth. Zay rolls his eyes but obliges, throwing in an offhand comment about how weird he is before slowly making his way out.
As he’s heading down the steps, he passes by Missy, who is casually making her way up into the booth. Like she goes up there all the time, like it’s no big deal. She even greets Zay as they pass, which he uncertainly returns. He frowns at her over his shoulder as she heads on up, obviously confused by her presence.
As confidently as she enters, Lucas evidently wasn’t expecting her either. He jumps when she addresses him, moving away from wherever he stashed the car wash cash. When he realizes it’s her, his posture grows even more defensive.
Lucas: What are you doing in here?
Missy: Only what anyone would deem visiting this musty space worthy for. I’m looking for you.
Lucas: I don’t know if you missed the memo, but people don’t waltz in here whenever they want. No matter how privileged they are.
Missy laughs, allowing him the dig. Following their increasingly common rapport, back-and-forth that straddles the line between friendly fire and hostility depending on your lens. She maintains innocence as she waits for him to settle back in his usual chair, claiming she only wanted to discuss the current A class financial crisis.
Missy: I heard your little car wash wasn’t half-bad. Congratulations are in order. Though I don’t believe I heard much about you out there breaking a sweat to wash those vehicles...
Lucas: You can congratulate the rest of the class when you see them.
Missy: Shame. I’d think if we put you out there front and center, you might’ve garnered a greater profit.
Lucas: Please.
Missy: You shouldn’t undersell yourself, Lucas. It worked for Chubbies, did it not?
If her increased patronage is any indication, then technically, yes. But Lucas doesn’t seem keen to acknowledge that. She moves closer and hops onto the lighting booth table, crossing her glossy legs where they are in perfectly accessible view. In a place where Riley often sits. It just feels wrong. Lucas averts his gaze, looking down at the soundboard instead.
Missy: Anyway, as cute as the fundraising effort is, I don’t exactly see the point.
Lucas: Well, for those of us not in the 1%, there’s this annoying everyday thing we have to do called “acquiring money.” I’m sure that’s probably confusing for you --
Missy: I meant for Adams. Or for the A class, more specifically. I don’t see why you all should be out there sweating through manual labor… when you could just ask me for the money.
Oh. Well that’s… an interesting proposition. Lucas is surprised she’s even offering it, enough to lift his head again to meet her eyes.
Lucas: … it’s hundreds of dollars…
Missy, coolly: Drop in the bucket. [ looking him over ] Surely you would know that by now.
Lucas hesitates, contemplating. Missy observes him, watching for the chinks in his armor. Those rare moments when he’s not as aloof and disdainful as their banter leads her to believe.
Lucas: I don’t see why you would help when it does nothing to benefit you.
Missy: Isn’t helping the class helping me in the end? [ off his skeptical eyebrow raise ] And oh, they’ll find a way to pay us back somehow. Every debt gets paid eventually. Name on an auditorium seat, plaque outside the lecture hall. That’s the charity solution to everything, slapping your name on something. I’m sure daddy would love to have the Bradford name in gold somewhere in this heap considering the chilly reception Hunter gave us when all this started.
Missy found about a dozen unintentional trigger words to throw in that sentence to change Lucas’s tune. Whether the most credit can be given to the word “charity,” or invoking Jack in a negative light is debatable, but Lucas is suddenly even stonier than before. He clenches his jaw.
Missy, softer: It’s not like you haven’t already accepted donations from the Bradford fortune… and that’s lightened the load, hasn’t it? Nothing wrong with that. [ a beat ] And you and me… I wouldn’t call us friends, but we certainly have… our own thing here. Don’t we? We… mean something. To one another.
Lucas drops his gaze again, cornered. The very insinuation that they have a relationship in any capacity makes him uncomfortable… but then, it’s not wrong, is it? If he’s willingly taking her money, knowingly, then that does symbolize some sort of association. He can’t in good conscience deny it, not when her money is a big chunk of the reason his future is even possible. And she could take all the pressure off them, off him, in an instant… no more fundraising… no more sweating over showdown… scholarships guaranteed…
But his instincts are stronger than that. It’s too good to be true. Everything comes with a cost, and while he might be willing to risk that here and there for his own feeble endeavors, he’s not going to tie his legacy and the rest of the class to it. He returns her eye contact, resolute.
Lucas: If your family wants to donate to the cause, then by all means do. But I’m not asking you for anything. I don’t beg.
Well said and well meant! For what it’s worth, Missy doesn’t seem put off by the rejection. If anything, she seems impressed by his stubborn resistance, even if she knows damn well it’s full of contradictions. Impressed, and definitely stirred by that same fire that captivated her the first time they met during the school board trial. The tension in the air makes that loud and clear.
Missy: No, no you don’t, do you. All part of your… provocative charm.
Message received, it appears… some message, at least… Missy slips off the table and begins to make her exit, assuring Lucas that she understands his perspective. Some things are better kept quiet, and she gets his need to maintain appearances -- and his pride.
Missy: It’s our little secret. And I get where we stand. [ with a smirk ] I think we understand each other better than one might assume.
The mere notion makes Lucas a bit queasy, but he keeps his mouth shut. Missy bids him adieu and disappears down the steps, wishing the Slumdog President the best of luck with his continuing financial campaigning.
Even once she’s gone, Lucas can’t shake off the discomfort of her presence. He has to get up, walk it off, gathering his things and fleeing from the space -- one of the few he’s never felt the need to escape from before.
EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - COURTYARD - DAY
Charlie is having lunch with BRIDGETTE GARDNER, occupying their typical table in the grassy outdoor space. She listens attentively as he catches her up on all of the stuff with their sisters, Charlie clearly seeking counsel from the one person who has been on the other side of this potential falling out. Does she think he should be worried, based on her own experience?
Bridgette: And you haven’t seen any of this for yourself?
Charlie: No, at least not yet. But I don’t think that means much -- I had no idea most of this stuff was going on with you until it was already way too late. When I first saw you having arguments with mom, it was volcano level.
Bridgette: To be fair, you were what, 14? Even younger than that when it all started. But true. Our family is really good at concealing the ugly, and then pretending it doesn’t exist when the moment has passed.
Charlie: And this is coming from Daisy. You know she wouldn’t make things up just for the hell of it.
Bridgette: Also true. She sure is an unaffected little freak. [ a beat ] I say that with love. Every Gardner has to be fucked up one way or another.
Still, with so little firsthand information, it’s hard to say. She doesn’t think Charlie should tie himself in knots trying to problem-solve something he can’t see, but…
Bridgette: Look out for Rosie if you can. You know, keep an eye out. If history is going to repeat itself, and she’s following in my forsaken footsteps… I don’t want her to go through that. She shouldn’t have to go through what I went through. Not that I’m not fine now --
Charlie: Right.
Bridgette: But she’s not tough like I am. And I mean that in the best way possible. Rosie… she’s sensitive. Sweet. Her heart is right there on her sleeve, even if she tries to act like she’s all grit. [ softly ] Reminds me of another sibling I’ve got.
Charlie smiles, but underneath the kind words she’s confirming his concerns. If the stormy energy around Rosie does whip up into a hurricane, then it’s looking more and more likely to be an unavoidable disaster. History may just repeat itself -- and more brutally than before.
INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY
Rosie isn’t the only one in a tempestuous mood. Jade is in full-on crunch mode as her deadlines loom ever closer, and even though she’s been basically holed up in the costume loft at all hours she still feels miles from the finish line. She’s skipping lunch to wrap up a couple of last-minute additions to another piece of her portfolio, using Asher as her mannequin. Currently, he’s sporting a rather fancy, outlandishly patterned and bold blouse over his maroon polo. It looks like it could be a ‘70s dance shirt, or the wardrobe of a funky, flamboyant villain, or perhaps an especially stylish swashbuckling pirate… but it’s a Jade Beamon original, so it looks fantastic.
If only the job of mannequin was as fun as the clothes he’s modeling. Asher is gritting his teeth so hard they might crack, cringing every time Jade threads her needle through a piece of it or sticks a pin somewhere. She’s an expert, a professional, but given her stress level she’s missed the mark more than once the last couple of days.
Jade, snapping: If you didn’t wince every two seconds like a little baby, then maybe I would stick you less.
Asher: [ through his teeth ] The two dozen pin prick battle scars I have beg to differ!
Nigel picks that moment to enter, catching the tail-end of their sharp exchange and clocking the vibes immediately. He hesitates by the door, not sure whether he should come in and interrupt anymore or not, but Jade spots him before he can duck out. She immediately loses some of her unpleasantness, straightening up and clearing her throat.
Jade: Nigel.
Nigel: Um… hello. [ holding up lunch ] I know you’re working through lunch again, so I just thought I’d bring something by.
Jade: Oh, that’s… that’s nice. You don’t have to keep doing that.
Nigel: It’s all good. I like being able to help. It’s the least I could do, make sure you eat.
Asher: Someone should.
Jade: I’m still holding pins, Asher…
As if that wasn’t signal enough, Nigel bravely ventures the question of how costuming is going this afternoon. Jade claims it’s all fine, and Asher repeats her comment in a tone that makes it very clear he doesn’t agree. Sensing that the best friends might benefit from a break from one another, Nigel offers to hang around and be her stand-in for a while.
Jade: Really?
Asher, hopeful: Really?
Nigel: Sure. All I have to do is stand there and look pretty, right? Think I can manage that. You know, if I clear the costumer’s standards, of course.
Jade: No, no you -- of course. Of course you do. You’re more than -- obviously, you’re up to standard. I mean, above. I, um…
Asher can’t help but laugh, but he hides it behind a fake sneeze. Jade shoots him a glare, then states it would be preferable actually for him to take Asher’s place for now. It seems like Bird Bones agrees, hopping down from the step stool and carefully removing the fanciful top.
Asher: It’s for the best anyway. I’m supposed to be helping Dylan proofread his college essays. I want to check mine one more time too -- Jade says reading them over seven times is more than enough, but pot meet kettle.
Nigel: A Dylan Orlando personal essay, huh? I’d pay to see that.
Asher: I’m sure he’d let you read it for no charge. One of the applications he’s filling out had the prompt to “describe a work of art from the last century that surprised, inspired, or challenged you and in what way,” so he wrote a whole thesis statement on why Taylor Swift’s album Lover is the most important contribution to art, culture, and society since the invention of music.
Nigel: Wow.
Jade: Of course he did.
Asher: I’ll be genuinely surprised if it’s not a video essay on his vlog in like four months. But you know what, no admissions officer can say he doesn’t have enthusiasm.
True that! Asher makes his grateful exit, handing the piece over to Nigel and wishing him luck. Jade giggles nervously once they’re alone, Nigel smiling and asking if he should just put the shirt on and stand where Asher was. She confirms, avoiding her gaze by digging through her sewing kit until he’s all set and ready to be pinned and needled.
Nigel: I hope I’m doing your work justice.
Jade: You, um… it’s good. You’re good. Ha ha.
She nervously pushes some hair behind her ear, then steps closer to get back to work. If anything can overpower shyness, it’s the stress of an impending deadline upon which your entire future rests. Jade softly explains to Nigel what she’s doing as she does it, since he’s never been her model before, and reassures her that he’s not worried and she can do whatever.
Nigel: I trust you, Jade. You are the expert, after all.
Jade glances up at him, processing the compliment. The declaration of trust. The fact that they’re standing so close, that if he just stepped down off the stool they’d be close enough to… it’s a lot. Sophomore year Jade would probably have ran and hid by now, if not passed out.
But this is the present, and Jade has work to do. So she swallows her butterflies and focuses on her needlework.
Quiet settles over them for a minute, then Nigel speaks again, barely above a whisper.
Nigel: You’re incredible, you know that?
Jade: Huh?
Caught by surprise, Jade’s hand slips… and accidentally sticks Nigel with the needle. He winces and she immediately launches into apologies, retracting her hands to drop the needle and asking if he’s okay. He promises he’s fine, keeping her from spiraling over it by taking her hand so she can’t drift any further away in retreat.
Nigel: Really, I’m good.
Jade: … so you were saying?
Nigel: Yeah. I just wanted you to know… I hope you know how amazing you are. I know you’re super stressed about all this and what these schools and programs are going to think of you, but they’d be insane to reject you.
Jade: I don’t know if I’d go that far.
Nigel: I would. I mean, you’ve made basically every costume we’ve worn for the last three years -- which I know everyone keeps throwing back at you -- and they’re fantastic. Not just because they look good, which they always do, but they’re durable. No matter how gorgeous they look, they can withstand a lot. When we finish a production, they’re worn in, but it’s still as if they’re freshly stitched. That’s impressive. Trust me, I’ve been in enough local Shakespeare productions to say so. One time a piece of my tunic fell off in the middle of the first act.
Jade laughs, charmed by the story and calmed enough by his gentle tone to actually breathe. Nigel smiles at her, fond.
Nigel: You’re reliable. That’s the best thing a person can be, in my opinion. And you’re talented to the extreme, hard-working, humble… I mean, is there anything you can’t do?
Jade: [ with a snort ] Socialize.
The word slips out, and Jade is instantly embarrassed by it. She hides her blush in digging to grab her needles again, going back to work as an excuse not to elaborate.
Nigel: Seriously? You’ve never struck me as without company. With the techies --
Jade: Oh, yeah, that’s the height of engagement. Just me and a bunch of emotionally inept teenage boys plus Dora, getting up to the same old shenanigans. Every girl’s dream. [ with a sigh ] Don’t get me wrong, I love them. Especially Asher, he’s my best friend. And I’m not saying I’m like, a recluse or anything, I have friends, I just… I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m talking about this. Sorry.
Nigel: No worries. I don’t mind. But for what it’s worth, I don’t see you that way. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend. I know I am. [ a beat ] Or like, any kind of relationship…
Jade coughs, not prepared for that. She giggles compulsively again, frantically brushing off the thought as she focuses intently on pinning a piece of the fabric into place.
Jade: I haven’t… ha, I’m so busy, I… a relationship… I don’t have the time to even…
Though she can’t form a coherent sentence, Nigel gets the message. Not available right now. And he admittedly looks a bit disappointed, but he puts his acting credit to use and swiftly covers with another smile.
Nigel: Well, again. Anyone would be lucky. And in the meantime, I’m just happy to support you however I can. Even at risk of puncture wound.
Jade absorbs this, unable to hold back her shy smile. She murmurs a thank you, then hides by throwing all her attention to the task at hand.
But for Nigel, the only thing he can focus on is her. So incredible… and so close… as the easy bass line floats in…
INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “How Deep Is Your Love” as performed by Bee Gees || Performed by Nigel Chey (feat. Dylan Orlando)
The lights are low and the set-up is simple, just Nigel on the stage with a microphone stand and sporting the finished product of one of Jade’s ‘70s costumes -- a glossy gold suit, styled like Saturday Night Fever, over a black silk shirt. He’s shimmering like a disco ball under the stage lights, reflecting the whimsical, dreamy quality of the number.
The only other person on the stage with him is Dylan, accompanying him on bass and providing back-up vocals. He’s dressed much simpler, dressed in black and wearing his custom-made Jade Beamon original suit jacket from junior prom. His hair is the ‘70s-ified element, swept up and combed back like John Travolta. While he happily lets Nigel hog the spotlight, he does take a moment in the performance to wink to Asher in the audience.
INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY
Intercut with the performance, we check back in with Nigel and Jade in the loft, doing a metaphorical dance of their own around each other as Jade costumes. There’s something surprisingly amorous about the set-up when it’s paired with the ballad. Jade remains oblivious, studiously sewing away, but the romantic tension is more than apparent, in Nigel’s expression and the smooth delivery of his vocals as he looks at her.
And you may not think I care for you
When you know down inside that I really do…
INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY
While she’s good at avoiding him while at work, Jade can’t keep her eyes off Nigel during the performance. Clarissa, Haley, and Asher cast knowing glances at her, but she doesn’t pay them any attention. In the back seats, Nate, Dave, and Jeff sway along to the beat playfully.
Cause we're living in a world of fools
Breaking us down when they all should let us be
Ultimately, though, even if certain truths remain unsaid, what can’t be denied is an excellent performance. Nigel brings it home with grace, understated as always but, in this case, pretty swoonworthy.
We belong to you and me…
INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Zay is on the phone with Riley, the latter walking him through all of the bulletins from that day’s showdown discussion. He listens eagerly, living vicariously, but it’s obvious he’s also frustrated that he’s being excluded. He reminds Riley that they can call on him at any time to brainstorm on choreography or reevaluate concepts, but she gently waves him off by insisting she doesn’t want to put any additional pressure on him.
Zay: Well, to be honest, not being consulted kind of makes me feel more --
Riley: Oh, shoot, Maya’s here. She’s supposed to be meeting with Farkle after his therapist appointment this evening, so I’m sure she just has a bunch of notes she wants to Maya-splain to me first.
Zay: If she wants to get on speaker, then she could --
Riley: I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? And I’ll let you know if anything major happens. Love you!
Zay: But Riley --
She hangs up before he can get a word in, even a goodbye. He sighs and drops his phone on his bed, pulling his laptop back towards him. He has his applications webpage open, where he’s painstakingly attempting to piece together the final elements of his portfolio. It’s not in bad shape, but with the glooming reality of his booted foot and inability to make anything more, it doesn’t feel like enough. It feels like being trapped.
He grabs his phone again, obviously wanting to talk to someone about it. But he can’t talk to Riley -- he knows she’s busy. He can’t talk to Yindra. He can’t talk to Maya -- and nor would he want to, thank you very much.
Charlie…
He could talk to Charlie. God, he wants to talk to Charlie. And they’ve opened up the lines of communication again, haven’t they? Couldn’t it be easy, like it was before? All he has to do is say something… but he doesn’t know what that would be. It’s still confusing and twisted up inside him. And whatever happened with Haverford at the car wash is admittedly suspicious, though it just doesn’t feel right to think Charlie would do something like that.
Confusing. Complicated. Stuck. He’s stuck, stuck, stuck.
INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - NIGHT
Farkle plops down onto Dr. Han’s couch, releasing a dramatic sigh and telling her there’s much to discuss (as there usually is). He starts to rattle off about the showdown drama because of Zay’s injury and how he and Isadora dumped water on their greatest rival at the moment, but Dr. Han carefully interrupts. She explains that there’s actually something she wants to open this appointment with, something that she thinks it’s important to start exploring as soon as possible. Farkle is confused but intrigued, sitting upright and gesturing for her to go on.
She turns to her notes, pulling out a couple of prepared informational sheets and taking on a gentler, more professional tone. She explains that after their last few meetings, she thought a lot about some of the patterns Farkle had been mentioning in his recovery. She decided to follow her hunch and do a little more research, and she thinks she’s landed on what might be the root after conferring with his primary care physician.
Dr. Han: It’s my belief that you show all the clear symptoms of bipolar disorder.
It’s like all the air gets sucked out of the room. Farkle freezes, staring at her, but words stop making sense. She continues to explain how common it is for it to be misdiagnosed as depression, how now they can focus on proper treatment for his actual affliction, how it’s just as manageable with the right approach, but it’s like she’s talking underwater. Everything feels hazy, static, like Farkle is suddenly a thousand miles away.
Farkle: No. No, I -- I can’t be.
Dr. Han: I understand that an unexpected diagnosis can be intimidating. And bipolar disorder, like most mental conditions, is shrouded in a lot of misrepresentation and stigma. But with the right perspective --
Farkle: I’m not. I can’t… I have to go.
Farkle blankly gets to his feet, suddenly certain he has to get out of there. It’s like he’s underwater now too, like he can’t breathe. Dr. Han warns that he’s likely just having a strong reaction to the news, anxiety, but she assures him that the diagnosis does not change anything about him or his prospects. If anything, it will improve things, because now they can confront his reality with the right tools. And it will be safest for him to just relax here and process it during their session.
But no, Farkle can’t stay. He numbly repeats that he has to go, ignoring Dr. Han’s disagreement and stepping out of the office.
INT. THERAPIST’S BUILDING - HALLWAY - NIGHT
Farkle doesn’t stop until he’s fully out of her space, back in the endless office sprawl of a building like this. He waits a moment, dreading Dr. Han chasing after him and dragging him back in there, but she doesn’t come. He collapses back against the door, releasing a shaky exhale and screwing his eyes shut.
Bipolar. He’s bipolar.
A gentle piano begins to play, an iconic familiar riff while we stay close on Farkle’s face.
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “All By Myself” as performed by Eric Carmen || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Zay Babineaux
Farkle takes the first lines of this legendary ode to isolation, singing them softly as the camera slowly eases away from him. The further away we pull, the more his sense of smallness grows, dwarfed by the hallway that seems to stretch on forever.
When I was young, I never needed anyone… those days are gone…
INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Zay pushes off his mattress and rises to his feet, going a bit too fast at first out of habit and nearly stumbling on his bad ankle. He cringes, falling back on the edge of the bed to right himself. He huffs and hides his head in his hands, easing into the next lines.
Living alone, I think of all the friends I’ve known
But when I dial the telephone, nobody’s home…
EXT. THERAPIST’S BUILDING - NIGHT
Farkle emerges onto the steps of the building in the financial district just in time to launch into the chorus. He carries on singing as he begins to make his way home, weaving through the streets and other passersby as if he’s invisible. Although he’s clearly emotional, it’s evident the information hit him hard, because he’s not at all at his usual level of verve.
INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Zay keeps it tamped down whenever it passes back to him as well, though his limitations are outside of his control. He spends his portion of the vocals at his window, leaning out to breath in the life and excitement of the city he loves that he feels so locked out of.
Whether within or without the city, for vastly different reasons, both Zay and Farkle are feeling the same ache.
INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT
Farkle makes it home in time for the piano solo, showing off his proficiency on the instrument lest we dared to forget. Then he and Zay harmonize on the final, showstopping chorus, delivering a whammy even when they’re not quite in top form.
INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Zay rounds out the number, stepping away from his window and shutting it forlornly.
INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Maya is back to brainstorming in the Minkus home as promised, pacing in front of the moodboard they’ve been working off of for weeks. She’s avidly running through potential pitfalls to their showdown prospects, which seem to be piling up by the minute, while Farkle is seated on the edge of his bed. He’s stone-faced, truly lost in his own head now, and Maya doesn’t fail to notice. As she’s ticking off more items on their doomsday list, she halts and gives him an unimpressed glare.
Maya: … and an inattentive diva. [ snapping in his face ] Farkle! Earth to Farkle!
Farkle: What? Oh, sorry.
Maya: I swear, you have been exceptionally offbeat this week. Of all the times, too, naturally it would be our greatest time of crisis that your zany passion eludes us. Honestly, Farkle, where for art thou? Why have you abandoned me in our time of need?
Farkle: I’m bipolar.
Maya: Okay? And I’m a narcissist. Just because we use pretty words doesn’t change the state of the union, darling.
Farkle, shaky: No, like, I’m literally bipolar.
Maya pauses, actually looking at him. His tone convinces her that he’s not being cheeky, and his sallow expression drives it home. Her demeanor shifts instantly, dropping much of her diva arrogance.
Maya: What?
Farkle: I’m bipolar. I don’t know how many more times I can say it.
Maya: I heard you, I just -- when? How?
Farkle: My whole life, presumably. How, ask God for me.
Maya: Well… well, like, what does that mean? Like, so you’re bipolar, well, what does that mean for --
Farkle: I don’t know. I don’t know, my psychiatrist just told me. I didn’t… I didn’t do a great job of listening to what came after that.
Wow. Silence reigns as Maya attempts to process this new information. Farkle speaks again, even more uncharacteristically timid than before.
Farkle: I know this is bad timing. Just… with this, and everything at school, I don’t know how on top of it I can --
Maya: No, no, of course not. Shh. It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about all that. You need to focus on yourself. On this. Don’t worry about Triple A. I’ll handle it.
Farkle: But Maya --
Maya: I’ve got it. It’s okay.
She pats his shoulders reassuringly, then turns it into a hug. Farkle hesitates for a moment before returning the embrace, desperately leaning into the comfort. Maya remains stalwart for the both of them, features intense as her mind runs to problem-solve a million miles an hour. Based on the furrow of her brow, it seems she might already be onto something.
Maya: I’m going to handle it.
INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Riley, Isadora and Eric sit around the dining table, chatting casually after finishing their meals. Eric looks between the two girls with a warm smile before offering to clear up.
Riley: I’ll help.
Riley gets up to help Eric clean away the plates, but Isadora places a hand on Riley’s arm to stop her. Riley gives her a questioning look.
Isadora: I actually… I have something I want to show you. In my room. [ to Eric ] If that’s okay?
Eric: Of course, go ahead. I’m perfectly capable of filling up the dishwasher on my own.
Intrigued, Riley follows Isadora into her bedroom.
INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Isadora goes straight to her desk and opens up a notebook to reveal Valerie’s letter. She passes it to a confused Riley, who takes a moment to look over it. When she realizes what it is, she looks up at Isadora with wide eyes.
Riley: Is this…?
Isadora: [ with a nod ] A letter to my father. I found it in one of Val’s boxes. You’re the first person I’m telling so don’t… don’t tell Eric or anything.
Riley: Oh, totally. Sure. [ a beat as she scans through the pages ] Why aren’t you telling him, though?
Isadora: I don’t really know how I feel about it yet.
Riley guides Isadora to her bed, where they both sit. She collects her thoughts.
Riley: Did you know anything about your dad before now?
Isadora: No. I asked about him a few times, like ages ago, but Valerie always claimed she didn’t know who he was. I can’t tell if she was lying or not; I don’t even know when she wrote this.
Riley: It seems like she didn’t really think about it until he wrote to her. And it definitely seems like he wants to be part of your life. [ a beat ] Do you want him in your life?
Isadora: I don’t know. I don’t even know what that would look like. My gut is screaming at me that it’ll end in disaster, like it always did with my mom, but at the same time… like, I’ve gotten by fine without a dad until now, but it does feel there’s a part of me missing. What if it’s him?
It’s clear that she’s been thinking it over a lot. Riley admits that she isn’t sure what she could say to help considering her complete lack of experience in this department, but suggests again that she should talk to Eric.
Isadora: I’m scared to.
Riley: What? Why?
Isadora: I don’t want him to think that he’s not enough for me. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t want to ruin it.
Riley places a hand on Isadora’s shoulder and offers a sympathetic smile. Isadora responds by resting her head on Riley’s shoulder, so Riley moves her arm to wrap around her.
Riley: You know how much Eric cares for you. There’s nothing you could do to ruin it. You’re part of the Matthews family forever now, no matter who your father is and whether you meet him or not.
Isadora: You’re my favorite cousin.
Riley: I won’t tell Auggie you said that. And you’re my favorite cousin, too.
Riley plants a kiss on Isadora’s cheek with a ‘muah.’ Isadora pulls a face of disgust and escapes from her grasp as Riley giggles.
Isadora: Minus five cousin points. Auggie’s in the lead now.
Riley: Nooo!
She chases after Isadora, trying to engulf her in a hug as both girls laugh.
INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Charlie is back from a late rehearsal for showdown, changing out of his Haverford uniform. He strips off his shirt and places it in the laundry hamper, checking how his clothes from the car wash are faring.
Still damp. At this rate, it feels like they’re never going to go back to normal.
Suddenly, the house below him erupts with sound, voices being raised in the kitchen downstairs. It goes without saying, but raised voices are almost non-existent in the Gardner household. Charlie freezes, listening intently until he recognizes exactly what he’s dreading -- a higher-pitched, defensive voice. Rosie’s voice.
He drops the wet clothes and reaches for the first top he can find -- which just happens to be an AAA sweatshirt -- and yanks it on as he rushes into the hall.
INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT
This time, there’s no question as to whether there is a fight. Rosie and ELEANOR GARDNER are more heated than we’ve ever seen either of them onscreen, yelling at one another and cheeks flushed. Rosie is particularly loud, in near hysterics since she’s young, emotional, and also on defense; Eleanor maintains a cool, superior tone even as she raises her volume.
Charlie slides into the room right in the thick of it, jumping in the middle without hesitation and questioning what the heck is going on. When he can get them to acknowledge him, Eleanor actually seems pleased by his presence, openly welcoming him into the argument.
Eleanor: Oh, perfect, just what we needed. A second opinion. Rosamund, why don’t you tell your brother why you’re in trouble? Go on.
Rosie, on the other hand, is not receptive to Charlie joining the conversation. She loses a lot of her fire, shrinking back and face flushing in embarrassment. Eleanor scoffs, though it seems like this is exactly how she expected her to react.
Eleanor: What’s the matter? Are you suddenly shy? You sure were loud enough arguing back to me about it, and now you won’t tell Charlie?
Charlie: Can someone just tell me what’s going on?!
Eleanor: Gladly!
Eleanor pointedly places Rosie’s phone on the countertop, which she’s been holding the whole time. It’s open to an Instagram photo on an unfamiliar page, one of Rosie’s new friends at her gifted high school. It’s a series of photos from some hangout the freshmen were having, but the photo in question surprisingly features another familiar player -- a bunch of the freshmen are sitting around and laughing, and Rosie is grinning while sitting on the lap of URI MINKUS.
It’s pretty innocent, but the implications are enough. Eleanor relays the whole tale, how one of Rosie’s friends from Catholic school told their mom about the photo in her tagged images and the mother was kind enough to inform Eleanor about it. This is already after a discussion she had with Rosie over this boy when she saw them interacting in a less-than-acceptable manner after school when she picked her up. She thought they had cleared it all up, but apparently not, between this photo and the fact that the text messages between her and this Jewish boy are nothing if not flirtatious.
Rosie: You shouldn’t have even been going through my texts anyway!
Eleanor: Oh, shouldn’t I? I didn’t realize you were the authority now! Privacy is a privilege, Rosamund, and you’re continuing to prove that you haven’t earned it!
They continue to escalate again, Charlie bewildered as he slides the phone towards him to get a better look. The photo really is so… nothing, and the whole argument feels so blown out of proportion. But Charlie knows the patterns, he knows what Bridgette warned him about, and all of the shouting and conflict is making him lightheaded.
Charlie, weary: Stop arguing.
Eleanor: I knew we shouldn’t have let you go to the gifted school. I knew you’d be better off staying in the Catholic system.
Rosie: Then why did you let me go?!
Eleanor: Maybe I shouldn’t have! Maybe that’s the thing I shouldn’t have done! In fact, maybe I’ll have to put a call into the deans and see if they can’t transfer you back --
Rosie, mortified: Mom, no!
Charlie: Stop…
The room is starting to spin a little bit. Charlie braces himself against the countertop, screwing his eyes shut and trying to block out the yelling. But he can’t run from it. He can’t hide.
Rosie: Charlie got to go to a different school! He got to go somewhere new without you breathing down his neck!
Eleanor: Because Charlie is responsible enough to handle it! You don’t see him posting suggestive content, flirting shamelessly, making questionable decisions. I don’t need to monitor your brother because he doesn’t give me any reason to be concerned!
Oh, Eleanor, if only you knew… it’s being invoked and talked about in such a discordant way that acts as the final straw. Charlie tries to catch his breath, but it’s not coming back, and it’s like the whole world is slipping away from him…
If anything will stop an argument, passing out probably does the trick. Charlie stumbles and then collapses onto the tile floor, shocking both Eleanor and Rosie out of their anger. Rosie shrieks and rushes to his side.
Eleanor: Charlie?! Ambrose! [ rushing to the entryway ] Ambrose, Charlie’s -- come quickly! Hurry!
Charlie’s down, all right. Rosie rolls him onto his back, checking for obvious injury -- lucky he didn’t crack his head open or something -- and trying to rouse him. But he’s out like a light… all of the tension slowly fading away…
INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT
Meanwhile, Brandon is staying late at Haverford once again, only this time he’s not alone. He’s meeting with a mysterious figure, a HIPSTER 20-something man who is probably into photography or a wannabe filmmaker. But he’s clearly there on business, Brandon and the man speaking in hushed tones as they converse even though they’re the only ones around.
Brandon: And you’re sure you’ve got the whole thing? I’m not paying for poor quality or fractions.
Hipster: I’ve been doing this for six years. Think I know what I’m doing at this point. But yes, it’s all there. Professional quality. You’ll be able to see whatever you need to see.
Brandon deems this response satisfactory enough, nodding. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wad of cash, trading it off with whatever object the hipster is offering. When they retract their hands, Brandon comes away with the secret item -- a flash drive.
He scrutinizes it idly while the hipster quickly counts the bills, then they exchange a nod, Brandon thanking him for his service. The hipster makes his exit, Brandon pacing for a bit on the stage and turning over the flash drive in his fingers. Whatever it is, he seems pretty satisfied to have it in his grasp.
He loses some of his easygoing confidence when he hears the auditorium doors open. He slips the flash drive into his blazer pocket and straightens up, narrowing his eyes to assess his new company. When he recognizes who it is, though, an intrigued smirk blooms across his face.
Brandon: Well, well, well. I have to say, this is an unexpected surprise.
Maya Hart. Dressed in one of her sharpest ensembles, Valerie’s fur coat giving her that extra oomph, matching Brandon’s cool sophistication effortlessly. She leisurely saunters her way down the aisle towards the stage, taking her sweet time.
Maya: So this is the fabled Haverford Prep. [ pursing her lips ] I have to say, I was anticipating greater grandeur.
Brandon: It’s hard when the indigent experience excellence for the first time. Never quite meets the expectations of their hapless daydreams… [ off her sneer ] Is there something I can do for you, Hart? Let alone at this late hour?
Maya: Don’t flatter yourself. It’s 8PM.
She’s made her way to the stage now, coming to stand opposite Brandon front and center. There’s a healthy distance between them, keeping them staunchly on opposing sides, but they regard each other with respect. Maya claims she just wanted to come have a little chat, clan leader to clan leader.
Brandon: That so? I thought Friar was your figurehead.
Maya: We both have our respective areas of expertise. I like to think of myself as the Cheney to his Bush. Conservative politics notwithstanding.
Brandon: Was going to say. I don’t see Cheney being much of a swinger for socialist handouts like you all are gunning for. [ sizing her up ] But I’ll admit, I pegged you for a captain rather than a lackey. You sure took front and center at the car wash.
Maya: Ah, yes… the function you so ceremoniously soiled.
Brandon: Hope you’ll forgive the incursion. It’s only business. A little competitive spirit is all.
Maya: Oh, no arguments from me. I’m more incensed I didn’t see it coming. Wish I had thought of it myself.
Brandon chuckles, perhaps a bit won over by her… unique Maya charms. He claims he got the sense they were more alike than different… in fact, if circumstances were different, and they weren’t sworn rivals… Maya catches onto his drift right quick, mirroring his smug charisma as she feigns sympathy.
Maya: So you like what you see. Don’t despair, you’re far from the only one. But I’m afraid that’s a forgone impossibility.
Brandon: [ processing what might be a rejection ] Ah. I see. [ like they’re confidants ] You play for the other team?
Well. That’s a pretty bold assumption to jump to just because she doesn’t want to get with you, Brandon. But Maya maintains her coolness, unperturbed by such arrogant conclusions. She makes a face, as if she’s contemplating.
Maya: … no team. Let’s put it that way.
Brandon: And what’s that supposed to mean exactly?
Maya: The only team I play for is Triple A. And that’s what I’m here for.
Brandon backs off his advances and allows her the floor, back to all business. She tactfully begins to discuss negotiations around senior showdown, dancing around the details of everything going wrong inside the ranks of the A class but letting just enough of her cards show to indicate that she’s only here due to dire circumstances. Then she subtly tries to charm her way to an ideal outcome, brokering a deal where maybe, just perhaps, Haverford might find themselves on the losing side of the showdown confrontation.
You know she’s desperate if Maya is trying to arrange a thrown victory. And Brandon can sense that too, even as aloof as she’s acting, which just makes the whole situation more amusing to him. Though he feigned listening to her pitch, he is all too eager to shoot it down. Why would Haverford want to throw the competition, he muses, when their winning streak is so hot and their competition is apparently so weak?
Brandon: I knew you all were hardly a threat, but this is even more pathetic than I thought. I mean, you and Friar coming to me trying to cut a deal for an easy victory -- what a leadership duo. You all must be in harsher condition than I imagined.
Maya: Wait, what?
Brandon: … you didn’t know? That your president already paid me a little visit earlier in the semester?
Maya doesn’t respond, but the way she’s lost her easy confidence as she stares at him answers for her. Brandon laughs, shaking his head.
Brandon: What presidential teamwork. Clearly, the future of Adams is in outstanding hands. But with such low confidence, and even lower moves you’ll stoop to… no, I believe Haverford is just fine where we are now. We’ll beat you handily, as we have for the last six years, and rest assured Hart, it’ll be with immense pleasure. [ a beat ] You should probably be going, then. The security doesn’t take kindly to riff-raff hanging around our hallowed halls.
He swivels and swaggers offstage, leaving Maya alone and humiliated in enemy territory. She’s fuming, gritting her teeth and fists clenched at her sides.
INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT
Riley is seated at the counter with her laptop, keeping Lucas company while he works the late shift. She’s running through analytics of the RSVPs they’ve already gotten for the dance fundraiser, which she claims is looking pretty good.
Lucas isn’t in a very optimistic mood, commenting that even if they get half of Manhattan to show up, it probably won’t be enough to cover all their expenses including the scholarships. With their chances at showdown dwindling by the minute… who knows. Maybe he’s not doing absolutely everything he can to make it happen…
Riley closes her laptop, giving him her undivided attention.
Riley: Don’t count Triple A out of showdown just yet, please and thank you. But I think I know what this is really about.
Lucas hesitates, freezing up.
Lucas: You do?
Riley: Yeah. You act like you’re so hard to read, like I don’t know you well enough to figure out when you’re not telling me something.
How could she know… did Zay tell her about seeing Missy in the booth? He swallows. She reaches across the counter and takes his hands, giving him a sympathetic look.
Riley: You’re freaking out over the college essays.
Lucas: Oh. [ a beat ] Yeah, well, I guess I am.
Riley reminds him that he doesn’t have to keep that kind of stuff from her and act like he’s unshakeable all the time. And honestly, she gets why he’s nervous about them. It sucks writing about yourself no matter what -- unless you’re Maya -- but it’ll be even harder for him given the things he’s been through. He hasn’t exactly been encouraged to view himself favorably, at least not until recently. Old habits are hard to break.
Riley: But that’s not necessarily what they’re looking for anyway. You don’t need to prove to them that you’re the most perfect shining candidate to ever apply, you just need to give them a really good story. Make them invested, get them to care about you. Show them a bit of your individuality, your personality -- which you are not short of in either department. And I know for a fact you can draw people in…
She is, after all, a prime example. Lucas still seems doubtful, but her perspective does help. And her belief in him continues to astound him, forged in steel even when everything else feels so unpredictable. Riley leans forward to give him a soft kiss, which lingers between them.
It’s impressive, too, how being with her grounds him. How their closeness doesn’t feel like an intrusion… and somehow, feeling cornered by other forces or put on edge just makes him want to be with her more. Lucas initiates another kiss, forgetting everything else for a moment, taking shelter in that inexplicable safety with her. Riley has no complaints, leaning deeper into it and tightening her touch on his hand.
Then the front door bangs open, the bell jangling ominously. Both of them jump and pull apart. Maya marches into the diner, indignant and blue eyes burning.
Maya: What the hell, Friar?
Lucas: What’s the matter with you now?
Riley: Is everything okay?
Maya: When were you going to tell me you shook down Brandon?
Riley: [ whipping to look at him ] What?
Lucas clams up, straightening upright and taking on a defensive stance. But the sheepish expression on his face gives him away. Busted.
Maya: You know, I think that kind of mercenary maneuver is exactly the sort of decision your VP should know about. Were you just never going to let me in on it?
Riley: Why the hell did you do that?
Maya: I don’t care about that. Friar’s a shady bastard, we all knew his methods were going to be far from clean. Who gives a shit. I’m pissed he decided not to keep me in the loop! Do you have any idea how humiliating it was for me to roll up there only for Brandon Rivas to hand my ass to me on a silver platter? Cocky prick, like he knows absolutely everything --
Riley: Wait, wait. [ eyeing her ] Why were you confronting Brandon?
Oh. Well. Cough. Maya flips her hair off her shoulder, but she can’t give a good excuse that doesn’t make her just as culpable as Lucas. He raises his eyebrows at her, emphasizing that if he’s going down she’s going with him. Riley closes her eyes, trying to catch up to this turn of events.
Riley: Let me get this straight. Both of you went to our competition, at separate times, to try and threaten them into… what? Giving up? Throwing the showdown?
Lucas: I just thought that --
Maya: Our prospects are in shambles even without the money. I was just --
Lucas: And I didn’t want you to be disappointed --
Maya: Everyone is counting on me, we’ve all got a lot riding on --
Riley: Okay, okay, stop. Enough!
Riley holds her hands up, getting them both to shut up. She takes a moment to compose herself, taking a deep breath, then she jumps into fixer mode.
Riley: This must be the week for damage control, because now you’ve really done it. You realize now we’re going to have to bring it even harder, since you’ve made it perfectly clear to Brandon and the Havies that we’re spooked. You wouldn’t go and grovel for mercy if we weren’t.
Lucas: That wasn’t --
Maya, scoffing: I do not grovel --
Riley: I cannot believe you would do something so stupid. [ to Lucas ] And that you would do something like this and not tell me…
Oof… hit him where it hurts, Riles. Lucas lowers his head, avoiding her eyes. Case in point, it doesn’t make anybody look very good. And now, Riley proclaims, she has to fix it once again.
Riley: We’re going to have to brainstorm fast for showdown and make sure everything is in pristine shape, which we already know is a shot in the dark. Call Yindra, tell her to come by our place in twenty. I’ll see if we can get Jeff and Isadora too.
Riley puts her belongings back in her bag and hops off the stool, Maya already heading out. Riley goes to follow her, but she pauses in the doorway and glances back over her shoulder at Lucas. She shakes her head, obviously disappointed.
Riley: I can’t believe you.
She leaves it there, pushing through the doors without another word. Lucas looks after her, ashamed, then curses to himself and lightly hits the counter with his palm.
Break 2.
EXT. DANCE LOT - DREAM SEQUENCE - NIGHT
Charlie is sprawled on the asphalt, just like when he collapsed, the city uncharacteristically quiet around him. When he comes around he jolts upright, spooked at being outside and on his own. He looks around in confusion, no clue where he is or how he got there. He slowly gets to his feet, recognizing the dance lot as a place he’s been before, but unsure where exactly it is or where to go next.
Only one clue exists to help guide him. Music.
It’s quiet, muffled, but he can hear it. A thumping bass, hypnotic beat… he spins until he zeroes in on the source. A heavy metal door installed into the wall opposite him, propped open just slightly, with a neon sign above indicating it’s likely some kind of club. Colorful light leaks out from the crack, mesmerizing and more than intriguing.
But it’s really the music that wins him over. He’s a dancer, and he cannot resist a compelling groove. He cautiously approaches the door, pulling it open and then stepping inside… as the faraway rhythms slowly become a familiar tune...
INT. DANCE CLUB - DREAM SEQUENCE - NIGHT
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Voulez-Vous” as performed by Mamma Mia! Original Movie Cast || Performed by AAA Seniors & Haverford Seniors
The rambunctious ABBA classic kicks off with a bang, music loud and boldly setting the scene. The lighting is mysterious, electric, the fully romanticized version of what a sultry, exciting disco scene might be like. Charlie is no longer dressed in his everyday clothes but is suddenly styled to match the vibes, sporting a sleek disco suit with Riley’s aforementioned blue dress shirt completing the look.
And as he ventures deeper into the club, he discovers he’s not alone. The place is packed with his classmates both current and former, Haverford populating one side and Adams the other, but all dressed in similar, near identical, disco suits. All eyes lock on him the moment he’s within view, judging him, waiting for him to make a move -- or pick a side.
The vocals start, and Charlie does neither, jumping down from the steps and sliding into the center of the glowing dance floor -- right down the middle of party lines. He starts the number dancing alone, challenging the established status quo in the club, tension mounting around his transgression of crossing lines…
Until Zay pushes through the crowd on the A class side. On both feet, looking fly as ever, no injury in sight and nothing holding him back from showing his stuff.
And here we go again, we know the start, we know the end
Masters of the scene
Charlie pauses, locking eyes with Zay. For a moment, finishing up the pre-chorus, they just hold eye contact… letting that tension bubble over…
Then Zay jumps into the center of the floor with him, joining in the dance.
Voulez-vous!
For the first chorus it’s just Zay and Charlie, dancing sometimes together and sometimes in contrast, epitomizing the back-and-forth pull between them. But it’s them, so the dancing is remarkably good, and especially satisfying considering how long it’s been since we saw them share a routine. Their timing and chemistry is just as sharp as ever, and it’s also a relief just to see Zay be able to move again.
Throughout the second verse, they weave back into their respective schools, Charlie’s peers still eyeing each other suspiciously and reluctant to break rank. But Zay manages to get Riley out on the dance floor (with Lucas in tow), and then Charlie nudges Evan. Bit by bit the classes mix and mingle, caught somewhere between dancing in tandem and facing off like foes. This becomes especially pronounced during the bridge about 3 and half minutes in, when the chorus becomes stripped and just relies on “ahas,” Charlie leading the Haverford delegation and Zay fronting the A class as they mirror movements and poses.
Then they officially bleed together, classmates crossing into opposite territory for the final chorus. For those who don’t already have a pair in their respective class (unlike say, Dylan and Asher), they pair with someone from the opposite school, like Brandon and Maya.
And, naturally, Zay and Charlie. They’re back together at the center of it all, intensity rising with the music, choreography much more intertwined this time and very close together. If not breaking charged eye contact were an Olympic sport, they would win gold easily.
The flash. The glamor. The drama. ABBA would be proud! When they round out the final seconds and strike their final pose, Zay and Charlie’s faces are so close, all it would take is a centimeter in either direction…
Zay: Charlie...
Charlie’s eyes flit down to his lips, as if he’s contemplating that very thing…
Rosie, faraway: Charlie!
INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Alas, not meant to be -- even in dream sequence. Charlie rouses awake when he’s shaken by Rosie, sitting on the bed next to him.
Oh, well. Wouldn’t be the same as doing it for real anyway.
Charlie blinks to adjust back to reality, Rosie releasing a momentous sigh when she sees he’s conscious again. She snaps at him for scaring her, informing him that his fainting spell totally freaked her and Eleanor out. Ambrose is on the phone with their doctor friend right now. He manages to sit up and apologizes for worrying them. It’s probably just… stress.
Rosie: Either way, bad party trick. Mom was so bugged out. You shouldn’t tell her you think it’s stress, or else she’ll probably yank you out of school too and back into Catholic prep.
Charlie: Yeah, speaking of… you really think she’s going to do that to you?
Rosie: … after you passed out, the conversation was basically dropped. If I keep quiet and don’t do anything else to incriminate myself, I think she’ll let it go. [ embittered ] Though sucks that I can’t even text who I want without her knowing every message I send. I doubt she’ll even let me speak to Uri now.
Charlie: Pro-tip? Change his contact name. Mom only goes looking for what she thinks is a problem. If you give him something inconspicuous, she’s never going to know otherwise.
Rosie stares at him, shocked her saltine brother would even think of something like that. I mean, he might be an alcoholic, but still… but it’s good advice all the same. Charlie goes on to explain that he was worried about her, too, and he doesn’t want her to feel like she’s trapped or she has to lash out. You can negotiate with Eleanor, you just have to be clever about it. He doesn’t want her to make the same mistakes that Bridgette did.
Rosie: Yeah, I know… thanks for looking out for me.
Charlie: So… Uri Minkus, huh?
Rosie: Ugh.
Charlie: He’s really that worth sneaking around to text?
Rosie: … I guess you could say… perhaps… maybe… that I have like, the tiniest crush on him. Just a little bit.
Charlie can’t help his smile. He jokes that she should be careful, not because of Eleanor’s concerns, but because if they get married then Farkle is going to become their in-law, and she has no idea what she’s in for if that happens. She groans and nudges Charlie, telling him to shut up, but it’s clear she’s already in better spirits than most of this week. She asks if he’s okay given that all his “stress” is literally making him pass out. Is everything okay with Adams? Charlie admits that he wishes things were easier to navigate than they are.
Charlie: Honestly, I think I’m just naturally gifted at making everything worse. [ with a weak laugh ] Probably should’ve listened to dad when he asked if transferring during senior year was a good idea.
Rosie points out that maybe some of that stress weighing on him is just stuff he creates in his own head. Not to demean it or anything, but like… does everything have to be an anxiety-inducing dilemma? If he wants to go hang out with his friends, from either school, then he should just go do that. He’s allowed to enjoy himself every once and a while and take a break from being the perfect saltine protective older brother. You know, have fun.
Rosie: [ holding up a finger ] Sober fun.
Charlie’s turn to laugh and nudge her. But maybe she has a point. And there might be just the perfect upcoming event where he can relax and have some fun…
INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
We join Eric and Isadora in the midst of their conversation. Eric reads Valerie’s letter while Isadora watches with her lips pressed together. Once he finishes the letter, he takes a moment to process it.
Eric: Wow. That’s… a lot.
Isadora: What do you think?
Eric: I think that what I think isn’t important at all right now. What do you think? Do you want to get in contact with him?
Isadora thinks about it as she wrings her hands.
Isadora: I’m not sure. But… you aren’t upset?
Eric: Why would I be upset?
Isadora: If I do want to meet him, I’m worried you’ll think that you’re not enough for me or something. I don’t want to hurt you.
Eric: Isadora, that could never happen. I’m not hurt at all, I just want what’s best for you, and a relationship with your father could be something really good.
Isadora: What if it isn’t, though? I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment. Again.
Eric: That��s understandable. You don’t have to make a decision now, though. You have all the time you want to think it over. [ a beat ] If you want, you could write a letter to him yourself. You don’t have to send it, but it can be cathartic to write out everything you’re thinking and feeling about the situation.
Unsure, Isadora pulls a face. Eric reminds her again to just think about it -- no major decisions necessary right now.
INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY
Lucas is meeting with Jack one last time before the dance fundraiser to grab another cash box and go over any last minute details. Jack questions if he’s going to be dressing for the occasion, to which Lucas rolls his eyes but begrudgingly admits that he thinks Riley would be even more upset with him if he didn’t. Though he doesn’t have all the details, Jack assures Lucas that he’s sure Riley isn’t going to be angry for long.
One can only hope. Jack wishes Lucas luck and then he heads out, leaving him to his work. He settles back into it until he lifts his gaze and catches Yancy heading out of the building, checking out for the weekend.
All of Jack’s frustration from his conversation with Evelyn bubbles back up again. He pushes out of his chair, jogging out of his office.
EXT. AAA - DAY
Jack catches Yancy on his way down the steps, telling him that they need to talk. Yancy claims whatever it is can surely wait until Monday, but Jack isn’t having it.
Jack: No, I don’t think your active sabotage of my school can wait another damn second.
Yancy is stunned by his coarse language, effectively halting him long enough to have the confrontation. Well, what then? Jack questions when exactly he planned to let him know about his ongoing anti-campaign against the student government’s scholarship endeavors, or what would drive him and Graham to work to pit the board against them. He knows that they aren’t fond of him, especially after his stunt at the trial, but taking it out on the students? Who does that benefit? What do they gain from that?
Yancy, sharply: Actually, Jackson, you’ve hit the nail on the head. After your little unprofessional display, why wouldn’t we be invested in halting any other schemes you deem a good idea? Particularly when your chosen favorite himself just miraculously managed to become student body president in a school that hates his very existence?
Jack: You have no idea what you’re talking about, and Lucas won that election on his own merit. It had nothing to do with me.
Yancy: It has everything to do with you! Everything does! So long as you are at the helm of this ship, making all the calls, everything ties back to you. And we used to trust you with that power. But all this behavior as of late -- declining lucrative offers, favoring delinquents --
Jack: He is not a delinquent!
Yancy: Or how about cavorting with a fellow employee? [ off his shocked expression ] Oh, come on, Jackson, I’m not naive. Did you and Eric really believe you could flaunt your little flirtation right in front my face and I wouldn’t notice a thing? As if my whole purpose at that school isn’t to keep it from collapsing under your unprofessional whimsy and desires!
This whole time, he’s been observing, watching the operation of AAA from the inside out, trying to determine if Jack remains fit to head the institution. Yancy admits, when Graham first put him up for the job, he was skeptical -- he’d always had great belief in Jack as an educator. He was doubtful that he had really slipped so far… but now he’s seen for himself. There is a certain way things are done, and it seems Jack has forgotten all of his proper perspective in service to that law and order.
Yancy: When I finish my report to the board at the end of the semester, they’ll be the judge of whether or not you deserve to stay where you are. But believe me, if I had it my way, you’d be out of that position and filing for unemployment faster than lightning.
Jack: You can’t do this. You can’t eject me from the role simply because your perspective is too old-fashioned to be flexible. Or empathetic. And unwilling to examine context --
Yancy: Well, we’ll just let the board decide that, won’t we.
Guess we will. Yancy fussily buttons his coat.
Yancy: I would watch yourself if I were you, Jackson. In my opinion, it’s far too late, but we both know how easy it is to tip the scales slightly in your favor. Maybe you’ll salvage this yet. Otherwise, I’d start contemplating alternative paths. Have a good evening.
Yancy stomps down the steps, not waiting for a goodbye. Jack swallows his panic, trying to remain resolute in the face of so much pressure. Scrambling to figure out what to do next...
A groovy disco track bleeds into the soundscape, totally dissonant to Jack’s dread --
INT. DANCE VENUE - NIGHT
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Streetdance” as performed by Disco Street Machine || Instrumental
The ‘70s dance fundraiser is in full swing, and it seems to be doing well! The venue is packed not just with Adams students but other community members, promising at least some greater revenue from the whole ordeal. The scene is set with funky lighting and a dance floor, along with some flower-power type decorations and a fun mirrorball hanging above it all.
It’s mainly cool to see everyone leaning into the theme and dressed in their best approximations of ‘70s garb. We’ve got funky vests, blazers for days, chunky platform boots, a few bohemian chic vibes, you name it. A few establishing shots show us all these looks and more while the assembled crowd grooves to the disco track. Yogi is wandering with his camera, capturing footage for posterity and social media.
Lucas is manning the check-in table, this time keeping control over the money in his own hands. He maintains a cordial enough demeanor as he interacts with potential patrons, and he is giving some semblance of ‘70s as promised in his collared-shirt-under-sweater look. He’s serving like… gothic Fred Jones, which is about as much as you’re gonna get from him.
Asher and Dylan, on the other hand, are representing much better. Asher is repping the funky vest and puffy sleeve shirt vibe, matched well with some maroon bell-bottoms and swooped back hair, while Dylan is truly going disco with a silky vibrant shirt tucked into silver pants, a huge, chunky pair of Elton John tinted glasses the cherry on top of the ensemble. They ask how cash flow is going, and Lucas claims fine, but they’re not out of the woods by a long shot.
Lucas: If things don’t pick up, I’m going to start pickpocketing.
Asher: Yes, that’s exactly what we need. A literal crook for president.
Dylan: Isn’t that like every president?
Anyway, Lucas needs to chill. Or as Dylan puts it, surrender to the boogie. Which is what he and Asher are going to go do right now -- the dance floor beckons them. Asher leads the way, Dylan walking backwards so he can maintain eye contact with Lucas and literally disco groove away from him as encouragement to give in to the funk. Lucas just shakes his head, unimpressed.
When Lucas gets back to work, who should be waiting to purchase a ticket in but Charlie Gardner. He’s dressed for the occasion too, dressed in dark pants and a white blazer… with Riley’s chosen blue shirt underneath. It seems he followed her guidance and went for it after all. Lucas greets him and commends him for turning out, considering all the bad blood between Haverford and AAA right now. Brave of him to show up.
Doesn’t he know it… but he wants to be here. Lucas takes his money and nods for him to go on in, sending him into the fray.
Meanwhile, Zay is parked at one of the tables, not in the best mood considering he’s surrounded by the boogie and can’t participate. Nigel is doing his best to cheer him up, but it’s sort of a fruitless effort. When Zay catches him eyeing Jade, who the techies managed to extract from the loft to at least enjoy the dance, he sighs and tells him to go have fun. He doesn’t have to waste away with him. Nigel argues against that take, but Zay nods him onward, insisting.
So Nigel bounces to his feet, thanking Zay before cutting through the crowd in the direction of Jade. Zay watches him go, bittersweet at being left alone again.
Charlie skirts the edges for a bit before finding companionship in Farkle, who greets him plainly. He’s dressed like Eric Forman, wearing a simple button down and bellbottoms combo with a loose brown corduroy jacket. He and Charlie briefly catch up, commenting on how the turn out is and how great the aesthetic is. But Farkle is still a bit lost in his own head, and Charlie notices. He elbows him lightly.
Charlie: You okay?
Farkle: [ with some of his usual humor ] Chuck, that’s like asking the sky if it’s red. I think you already know the answer.
But he’ll live. Once he figures some things out… it’ll be fine. It has to be. Vagueness aside, Charlie can tell there’s more to it, but he opts to focus on distraction rather than problem-solving. He’s had enough problem-solving for a lifetime this week. He invites Farkle to go dance instead, playfully challenging him to show what disco moves he’s got up his sleeve.
Farkle: Oh, you’re going to regret this -- and not because I’m good.
Charlie laughs, gesturing for him to lead the way onto the dance floor.
Maya jumps up onto the small stage set up with the DJ booth, taking the microphone and briefly thanking everyone for coming out. No applause necessary for putting it together, really… and she waits until the audience feels compelled to applaud. Then she waves them off “humbly” before reminding them of all the ways they can support the Adams senior class while at this benefit -- mainly financially! And by getting down and boogie-oogie-oogying. Peace!
Lucas shakes his head at Maya’s speech, lightly amused, but all of his calm is wiped away when Missy walks through the door. She’s dressed in simple ‘70s, a gorgeous and slightly revealing silk disco mini dress and with her hair blown out like Farah Fawcett. She cheekily compliments him on his get up.
Missy, sarcastic: An ensemble that elaborate must’ve taken ages to throw together. I see you really put an effort in.
Lucas: Maybe. And what’s your excuse?
Missy: Not everything needs to be silly and over the top. In fact, I think the richest things in life are those that go understated. Left unsaid… makes everything a bit more exciting, anticipating whatever more there might be to explore. [ a beat ] Same goes for fashion.
Lucas: … so are you paying, or what?
Missy: As I understand it, Adams seniors get in free. But since I can afford it…
She reaches into her small satin purse, pulling out a wad of cash. She siphons off about half of it -- way more than a ticket would cost -- and drops it into the cash box for him. He eyes it suspiciously, then flits his glare towards her.
Missy: I thought about our little chat. And you’re right, maybe there needs to be something in it for me -- which in this case is a victory at showdown. We’re embarrassing enough right now as it is. At least with the funding, we’ll look good when we crash and burn. And as for the rest…
She folds up the remaining bills in her hand and holds them out for him, gesture subtle but unmistakable. Lucas stares at the money, then glances around them nervously to make sure no one else is looking.
Lucas: What the hell are you doing?
Missy: Come on, Lucas. Don’t be noble. We know how things are between us. I’m just trying to help. And it stays discreet. Think of it as… a bonus, for all the hard work you’re doing for the A class. [ quieter ] I heard you in the booth. You don’t ask for help. Well, sometimes, you don’t have to beg. You can just take… whatever you want.
She raises her eyebrows, subtly challenging him to take it. Lucas hesitates, holding his breath… it feels like a test, he knows it is… but he’s already taken plenty from her without asking. What’s a little more…
Missy: Davis isn’t going to pay for itself, is it?
No. No it isn’t. She’s right, and he knows his chances of reeling a scholarship are slim to none. Does he really want all of this stress for applications to be for nothing?
Reluctantly, Lucas takes the money from her and slips it into his back pocket. Missy smiles, genuinely pleased, though why it’s hard to say. But it’s clear, now more than ever, that whatever little arrangement they’ve got going on here is a pattern now. It’s not just going to flutter away on its own, and the consequences that might come of it remain a mystery.
Missy: Groovy. Enjoy the dance, Lucas.
Lucas doesn’t respond, using the cash box as an excuse not to look at her. But based on flipping through the amount of money she handed over for the fundraiser, they’re way closer to their goal than before. And that has to make it all worth it, right?
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “September” as performed by Earth, Wind, & Fire || Instrumental
One of the best songs of the decade comes on next, earning an enthusiastic cheer from the crowd. Riley weaves her way through the throng and rushes up to the entrance to find Lucas, Nate in tow. She’s dressed in a shimmery lavender-mauve jumpsuit, a complimentary hair scarf tying together the groovy look. She pushes Nate in front of her.
Riley: Nate here is taking over table duty.
Nate: You know how I love dem bills, my brother.
Riley: So that you can come dance with me.
Lucas cringes, weakly putting up a fight. Oh, no, no, no… but Riley’s already got her hands on him, and her smile is so damn cute, it would be impossible to refuse her. So he lets her drag him out into the crowd.
Once they’re actually on the dance floor, Riley beams at him and pulls him closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Lucas does his best to be a good sport and play along, especially since he’s already in trouble, placing his hands on her hips and casually swaying to the beat.
Lucas: So… does this mean I’m off the hook for the Brandon thing, or…
Riley: Hm… so as long you’re dancing with me and you look so cute in that sweater, I suppose you can be forgiven.
Better than nothing, though Lucas still clearly feels guilty about disappointing her. Just one of many ways he feels like he’s letting her down… but for now she’s happy, so he’ll just focus on touching her waist and how hot she looks in her jumpsuit.
Across the dance floor, Dylan and Asher are in conversation with Jeff and Yindra, Dylan with his arm draped casually around Asher’s shoulders and bouncing to the beat. They’re discussing the everchanging stakes of their showdown routine -- at this point Yindra claims they should just scrap it all and start over, they’ve got equally as bad a shot with the shoddy routine they have now. But Asher claims that would be a disaster, and they should only cross that bridge if they absolutely must.
Dylan spots something that seems to capture his attention, his eyes widening in excitement. He pinches Asher’s ribs and leans closer, Asher tilting his head to listen to his murmur.
Dylan: Shakespeare in Love, straight ahead.
Asher squints through the dancing crowd and finds what he’s talking about -- Nigel and Jade. He’s actually managed to pull her onto the dance floor, engaging in loose and easy grooving together. She’s laughing, waving off how bad a dancer she is, but he holds one of her hands and assures her she’s good.
Totally radical. Asher and Dylan exchange knowing looks, unable to hold back a grin.
Zay is less enthused, mainly because of his current view -- Charlie, dancing with Farkle of all people to one of the greatest songs there is. Not that there’s anything to be concerned about, really, since they’re clearly just goofing around with each other and Farkle is as promised quite an embarrassing disco dancer. But he’s up and moving, free, having fun, making Charlie laugh -- with Charlie looking disgustingly attractive in his expertly chosen shirt -- and it kind of feels like a perfect vignette of what’s locked away from him.
Everything Zay wants, desperately misses, but can’t have.
His brooding is interrupted when Isadora plops down into the chair across from him, giving him a nod in greeting. He asks why she’s not out there grooving on the dance floor, and she sagely says she’s not interested in getting up to boogie so… publicly. She’s amazed Riley got Lucas out there, but that’s only because of her unique Riley charms. It’s torture in her eyes.
Zay: Speak for yourself, but you’re entitled to your whack opinion.
Isadora: I know, I know. This is killing you. And I respect that. Just not for me. [ a beat ] Maybe it’ll give you some peace to know that you being benched is an undeniable tragedy for all of us.
Zay: The considerate part of me says no, but the egotistical side does love it, thank you.
Isadora: You’re welcome. [ with a sigh ] Now there’s talk of changing the routine if we can’t figure out how to fill your vacancy. Not that I don’t think we could pull it off, but it would take all hands on deck and everyone on board, and I don’t see that happening unless there’s no other alternative. Right now, if we could just find someone to fill your spot -- never as strongly, of course --
Zay: Again, my ego thanks you. You’re not going to take the spot?
Isadora: Uh… I mean, I don’t know. A couple of people suggested it, but look, we know I’m no you. I don’t learn as quickly, and I’ve got enough of a track record with performance mishaps on my own. I mean, what if I do it but I completely freeze the moment we have to go out there? My mom’s parting gift to me was giving me the one thing she never had -- stage fright. Doesn’t that seem too risky to throw in there when the stakes are higher than ever?
Zay: Man, I don’t know. I get what you’re saying, but all I know is that I would kill to be able to perform right now. And if you’re debating it at all, then to me, that means you want to -- and if I had the ability to do it, I wouldn’t waste it for a second on what ifs.
Very insightful, Zay. Isadora contemplates this… then she points out to Zay that just because he’s off his feet doesn’t mean he has to fade into oblivion. He’s got to take the time to heal, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be involved in the class or productions. He just has to find new ways to involve himself rather than what he’s used to.
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Y.M.C.A.” as performed by Village People || Instrumental
Another classic! In an instant, Riley appears at their table, teeming with enthusiasm and reaching for Zay’s hands. She insists that he get up dance with her -- to which he reminds her that he’s booted -- but she points out that anyone can do the Y.M.C.A. It’s just shouting and arms! So he relents, allowing her to help him to his feet, but his grin betrays his aloof demeanor.
Farkle slides over moments later, telling Isadora that she better get up and join them too. If Zay can do it, she has no excuse. She rolls her eyes, but she really can’t argue with him on that.
So the dance wraps up with a flourish, the full class laughing, sing-shouting and goofing off together to the party favorite that literally anyone can do. Nigel and Riley each support Zay on either side, and he looks about as joyful as he has in weeks. Asher and Dylan prevent Lucas from escaping, keeping him on the dance floor and trapping him in the Y.M.C.A groove too. Charlie dances with Haley and Clarissa, who take turns twirling under his arms.
Yogi and Dave make their way through it all, capturing all the joy of a successful fundraiser on camera so they’ll never forget it.
INT. DANCE VENUE - LATER - NIGHT
The party has wrapped up, only the A class hanging around to clean up. Well, the A class and Charlie, who insisted it was no problem to stay back and assist in tidying. He’s working with Nigel and Yindra at stacking chairs, the latter of which comments playfully that he really is too helpful for his own good.
Yindra: Such a good little Christian, truly. It’s like God injected his compassion mission into your cute white boy veins.
Charlie: Well… not that good, admittedly. [ a beat ] I think if he was going to make his prototype golden child, he would’ve skipped the part where he made me gay.
Oop. Wow, a casual coming out -- and with a little humor, too! Charlie is getting better at this. Yindra raises her eyebrows at him, assessing for a moment whether or not he might be joking… and then she breaks into a wide grin, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
Yindra: Oh, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie… I always knew I liked you. And I should’ve known, considering that awful Les Mis kiss still haunts my nightmares.
She asks how long he’s been out, or at least telling people, and Nigel slides in to proudly note that he told him before Yindra. She rolls her eyes. Charlie admits it’s slow-going and hasn’t been easy, especially with the community outside of AAA, but it feels good every time he does it. Hopefully the rest of his world will turn out tolerant too.
Yindra invites him to her church that Sunday for a change of pace. She’s performing a solo in the choir, so it’ll be guaranteed entertaining, and it might be good for him to see an actually accepting church environment for a change.
Nigel: She just wants to force you to see her ‘70s performance before she shares it with the class on Monday. The more people she can force to be her audience, the better.
Yindra: Hey, now, I don’t care for your sass, Chey Chey.
Either way, her church runs later than his, so it shouldn’t conflict. And Nigel will be there too -- she’s bribing him with brunch -- so it’ll be like a fun little outing. Charlie just seems happy to be connecting with his peers again, so he happily agrees.
Nate, pre-lap: 70… 80… 90…
INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT
Lucas, Maya, Riley, Dylan, Asher, Isadora, and Farkle are convened in and around the back corner booth, watching nervously as Nate counts the final income from the dance fundraiser. All of them are holding their breath… Maya is pacing like a wildcat, ready to pounce and tear him to shreds if the number is too low.
Isadora: Jesus, Nate, can’t you count any faster?
Nate: No, I don’t cut corners when it comes to money. Now shut up, or I’ll have to start over.
Farkle, exhausted: Hush, Isa. Don’t make him start over.
Silence settles over them again… and Nate finishes counting the bills from the cashbox. He lifts up a finger to halt them from asking, writing the number down and then pulling up the calculator app on his phone. After combining the total from this with the car wash haul…
Nate: We did it. Crazy sons of bitches, we did it!
They officially made the money to pay for the damages and fund their showdown needs. Victory! All of them cheer, hugging each other and clapping enthusiastically. Riley wraps her arms around Lucas and kisses his cheek, while he’s looking pretty relieved.
Nate: I gotta say though, the numbers seem kind of skewed based on the actual attendance we had. Someone must’ve made a huge donation. [ to Lucas ] Did you notice anyone drop some major cash?
Oh, interesting… Lucas pauses, then breezes past the question. He claims it doesn’t matter who donated what -- they’re in the clear, and now they can focus on what matters. It’s time to kick Haverford’s pretentious privileged ass at showdown.
Hear, hear! The group cheers again, exchanging high-fives and reveling in their hard-earned success.
INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Isadora arrives home, shedding her jacket and shoes at the door. She’s relaxed, and has a relieved smile on her face. From where he sits on the sofa, Eric looks over to her.
Isadora: We did it! We raised all the money we need.
Eric: Oh, amazing! Well done, I’m so proud of you all.
Isadora sits down next to him and exhales. It’s been a long day.
Isadora: I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I’ve decided to write a letter to Zachary.
Eric: Tha --
Isadora, interrupting: I don’t know whether I’ll send it or not, but I do think it’ll help just to get my thoughts out there.
Eric nods his agreement, and reminds her that he’ll always be there for her. Just as she starts to ask for help on what to include in the correspondence, there’s a knock at the door. Eric goes to answer it, pleasantly surprised to find Jack waiting on the other side. Although he’s happy to see him, Jack seems stressed, so Isadora gets the hint that she should probably give them some space. She wishes Jack a good night and retreats to her room, leaving them alone.
Eric: Did you hear that they made the money to cover the auditorium damages? I’m honestly impressed, but I guess we should never doubt the A class.
Jack: Yeah… yeah, I did. From Lucas. It’s great.
Eric: … okay, what’s going on. You’ve got your thin voice going, how you get when something is wrong.
Jack doesn’t even bother to ask what that means -- Eric knows him well, it’s hardly a surprise at this point. He releases a strained sigh and explains what happened with Yancy, both about him sabotaging the scholarship fund from within the board and then the confrontation they had on the steps. Eric listens raptly, absorbing some of his dread with every word.
Eric: That sick… I always knew there was something off about him. He’s a corporate sellout through and through -- has been since he joined the board. And he has the gall to lecture you… we’ll get him for this, Jack. We just have to strategize --
Jack: No. No, we can’t do anything. Not right now. Not with so many things on the line.
Jack mentions the other piece of Yancy’s threat -- that he might be put on probation for real and potentially let go. Eric scoffs at this, disbelieving. Jack is well-known in the community… no way he’d get ousted. It’s an empty threat.
Eric: What’ll probably happen is that if anything, they put you off contract, and the position would reopen for applicants. So all you’d have to do is apply again, and Evelyn would hand it back to you without question. Yancy is just reaching, he can’t --
Jack: But Evelyn isn’t the only vote that matters, Eric. If they can flip a decision on something like the scholarships… that affects the students… and I don’t think he’s bluffing. I mean, he brought up Lucas, he mentioned… he mentioned you and me…
Eric shrinks a bit at this. It’s uncomfortable that someone is using their relationship as leverage, implying it’s a bad thing, but he’s also nervous about the way Jack is taking it. He knows how much he cares about AAA. He’d do anything to keep it afloat, to do what’s right for the school.
Eric: So… [ with a deep breath ] What do you want to do?
Jack, softly: Right now… I just think we need to… we need to step back. Put things on hold until the dust settles. My examination period should be over soon, and when this is all sorted, then… then maybe we can…
But for now, they can’t. There’s too much at stake… things both of them care about more than themselves. Although Eric is reluctant, he does his best to keep his emotions in check and nods along. He places a hand on Jack’s shoulder, letting it rest there for a moment. Stroking with his thumb, soaking in the touch for all it’s worth. Who knows when he’ll comfortably get to do it again.
Eric: Whatever you need, Jack. I understand. [ with difficulty ] I’m with you.
Jack nods, grateful. More grateful than he’ll ever know. He holds his gaze for a long moment, then leans forward and presses his lips softly to the corner of his mouth. So close, yet so far… Eric closes his eyes, trying his best not to crack.
Jack pulls back, swallowing hard. He clears his throat and nods, back to a fragile shell of professionalism.
Jack: I’ll see you at school.
Eric returns the nod, but he can’t meet his eyes. Jack hesitates for a moment longer, wishing it wasn’t this way, wishing he could stay… then steps back into the hall, shutting the door behind him.
Like he was never there.
INT. YINDRA’S CHURCH - DAY
Charlie and Nigel are in one of the pews amidst the usual congregation of Yindra’s church, waiting for the choir following the service to begin. Charlie seems excited but nervous, liking the high spirits and jovial energy but worried he’s an imposter just like he is everywhere else. He leans over to Nigel.
Charlie: I stick out like a sore thumb, don’t I?
Nigel: Mm, yeah. But it’s okay, [ patting his arm ] you can’t help that you’re skim milk.
Thank you for that, Nigel. Charlie opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, so it’s a relief when Yindra steps down front and center in her church choir robes to address the congregation. She cheerfully greets them and explains that she got to choose the song for this week, which she used to also fulfill the requirement for her art school lesson. Two birds, one stone, am I right?
Either way, she wants to dedicate the heart of this performance to her peers at school and in attendance this afternoon. She knows they’re all going through stuff, and even though it feels like the end of the world right now, it’ll all be water under the bridge one day. All they can do is take it day by day, and by the grace of God, everything will end up the way it’s meant to be.
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Bridge Over Troubled Water” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Yindra Amino
If anyone could deliver soulful, impressive vocals to rival and honor Mercedes Jones (for those of us who did watch Glee, unlike the Havies), it would be Yindra Amino. And deliver she does, both in the church and on the atrium steps at AAA where she splits this performance. The rest of her choir backing her up gospel style really does add a certain something something, but the true emphasis of the number is the meaning.
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way
See how they shine, oh, if you need a friend
I'm sailing right behind
When she makes it to the latter half and the gospel kicks off clapping to the beat, the entire congregation leaps to their feet and eagerly joins in. Charlie and Nigel are right there with them -- as is the A class in the atrium intercut of the performance.
Yindra brings it home with a spectacular vocal run, and you have to wonder if she really could make it out there in L.A. on her vocal chops alone. The church erupts into gleeful applause as she wraps up and takes a bow with the choir, beaming bright.
Charlie mirrors her smile, enthusiastically clapping along. Experiencing for an instant what it’s like to feel comfortable in church -- allowed to just be himself.
INT. CHUBBIES - DAY
Lucas is anxiously sitting opposite Riley in the usual booth, watching as she carefully reads over his personal essays. She’s doing her best to maintain a professional and neutral expression while she goes, but it’s impossible to hold back the slightest smile on her lips as she reaches the conclusion. When she lifts her gaze to meet his, but purposefully builds suspense by not saying anything, he cracks.
Lucas: Well? They’re terrible, aren’t they? You can just say it if they are.
Riley: … [ breaking into a grin ] They’re great, Lucas. Brilliant, honestly. Not that I ever had any doubt you could pull it off.
What a relief. Lucas exhales a sigh, thanking her for taking the time to read them. Then he continues, softly apologizing for not telling her about what happened with Brandon. Even though he had good intentions, he knows it doesn’t matter. And if he wanted so much not for her to know, then obviously it was never a good idea to begin with.
Riley: You know it’s fine for you to mess up. I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me.
Lucas: [ after a beat ] I guess I didn’t… it’s like the stupid personal essays. I know that… I’m not a shining example of a good person. I don’t think that’s exactly a secret.
Riley: I don’t think that.
Lucas: I know. I know you don’t, and I think that’s why I didn’t want you to know. Because it’s like every thing I do that shows you that, the more you realize that I’m… less than ideal, then…
Riley tilts her head, giving him a sympathetic look. Then she gets up and comes to join him on his side of the booth, sliding in next to him and leaning forward a bit so he’ll meet her gaze.
Riley: I told you that I wanted a relationship with you, and I meant it. And that’s all of you -- everything, the good and the bad. Even if you make a mistake, or I get disappointed, it doesn’t change that. We’ll find a way to work it out. I want you.
Her way with words makes everything sound so easy, so simple… and maybe it is. Maybe it can be just as simple as wanting each other, loving each other, and making it work. Lucas absorbs the sentiment, smiling shyly and thanking her again.
Hard part out of the way, Riley asks him how he managed to break his writer’s block and write those killer essays. What was his secret? Lucas hums, thinking about it.
Lucas: It was kind of what you said. You know, changing my perspective. When I was trying to write it from my lens, it was… well, you know. But then I just tried to think… what would Riley say? If someone asked you about me. And when I thought about it like that, I don’t know… suddenly, it was easy.
Riley chews her lip, smile blossoming on her face. She pulls him into a gentle kiss, one that he returns before swiftly stealing another one. She nudges her forehead against his, fondness shining in her eyes as she looks at him.
It’s no mystery how thinking like her made for some unbeatable work.
Billy, pre-lap: I knew it. I knew he wasn’t loyal.
INT. HAVERFORD PREP - SENIOR LOUNGE - DAY
Dweezil’s phone is sitting on the tabletop, open to the Adams social media page. Displayed are a handful of photos Yogi took during the ‘70s dance… including one clearly featuring Charlie, dancing with Haley and Clarissa. Although it looks like he’s having a swell time, Billy and Dweezil don’t seem happy for their classmate at all.
Dweezil: He’s never really jumped ship. We know he’s always hanging out with Riley anyway. This is just definitive proof.
Billy: Showdown is in a week. If he’s still this comfortable with his old chums, who knows how much shit he’s telling them.
Dweezil: And what if he finds out about the plan? No way he’s going to let us do it.
Billy: I say we take care of this now. Before it interferes with our performance.
Dweezil: He might blow everything.
Billy: Brandon. You have to have an opinion on this shit.
Opposite them and seated at the table, Brandon is examining the photograph for himself. He’s unperturbed as usual, thoughtful and contemplative. He doesn’t comment until Billy and Dweezil basically demand input from him, at which point he offers a calm smile.
Brandon: It’s nice to see him enjoying himself, isn’t it? I like Charles. He’s a nice kid. [ a beat, then suavely ] And a coward.
Brandon gingerly places Dweezil’s phone back on the desk, reclining back in his chair.
Brandon: I’m not worried about him.
Billy: Man, you’re kidding --
Dweezil: And what if he decides to --
Brandon: Don’t you get it? He’s not going to do anything. If there’s one thing you can count on with Charles, it’s that he’s spineless. He’s not feeding them information, and even if he does take offense to something we do, he isn’t going to do shit. Gardner is soft, and he’s the least of our worries. But in a week it’s not even going to matter. Especially not when we’ve got this.
Brandon retrieves the flash drive from his blazer pocket, placing it on the table between them. Billy and Dweezil eye it with interest -- they all clearly know what it contains.
Brandon: Once we crack into this, it’s over. We’re going to crush Adams like we do every year -- whether Charles helps or not.
INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY
Ah, to be back in the warm embrace of the auditorium -- even if it’s still a bit banged up. It’ll take a little while longer to get the auditorium back in tip-top shape, but the A class can at least come home to roost in it again, which is where they gather for the kick off the next week.
All of them give a round of applause to Harley for his assistance in repairing their mistakes, and hope that he enjoyed the performances of the last few days. He assures them he did, though as he understands it, the week isn’t quite over yet. He steps back and allows Jade to take front and center.
She thanks all of them for being patient with her while she finished up her portfolio materials, and at this point she only has one more request. Behind her, Dave and Dylan roll out the racks with her ‘70s portfolio costumes, and she explains that she needs models to pose for the photographs she’s going to include in her application of all her hard work. Now hm… where on Earth is she going to find suitable, available models for free who she just happened to know all the measurements of and would fit perfectly into these custom costumes…
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Shake Your Booty” as performed by Forever In Your Mind || Performed by AAA Seniors
Riley beams, claiming she thinks she knows where they could find a few volunteers. The A class launches to their feet, rushing the stage to see what Jade has in store.
INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY
The boys kick off this energetic, bopping closing number, changing into their Jade ‘70s ensembles and grooving in the dressing room. Sliding through the wall --
INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY
The girls are doing the same, fluffing their hair and doing each other’s make up as they sing into the mirrors. Once they’re all set, Yindra leads the way out into the dressing room hall…
INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY
Where they meet up with the boys, strutting in their fierce, authentically ‘70s looks. They make a mad dash for the auditorium --
INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY
And reclaim their stage, breaking into disco grooves as they toss around solo lines and show off their outfits. Jade stands with Yogi and helps him direct the costume shoot, both of them dressed up as well with Jade sporting the stereotypical but Jade-infused bohemian flower power girl look with a flowy white dress with puffy sleeves and a leather headband laced with wildflowers.
On the bridge, we get a montage of all of the A class posing in their outfits as they dance to get their pictures taken. This highlights not only how much we love this silly crop of seniors, but also how fantastic and individualized Jade’s costumes truly are. Paired with the earnest and jubilant performance, it’s a truly lovable showing.
Then they bring it on home with a disco line dance, all breaking into the same groovy choreography and all in their ‘70s garb. Zay watches from the audience with Lucas and the faculty, for once seemingly not in despair over being benched and still getting a custom outfit of his own. Dylan and Asher are front and center, and they pull Jade into it on the last few lines, so she also gets her boogie in before the day is done.
If one thing is clear, it’s that disco is far from dead, thank you very much! And while the A class has a lot on their plates -- and insurmountable stakes ahead -- it’s hard not to feel hopeful when they’ve got each other.
Whether that’s enough, well, soon we’ll find out.
END OF EPISODE.
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Fifty (50)Toxic People Quotes To Help You Develop Boundaries .
If you’ve recognized you need to set limits with people in your life, these toxic people quotes will help you do just that.
We all have toxic people in our lives who can’t be avoided. It could be a friend, family member, or a coworker whom you just can’t stand.
Their toxicity manifests in a lot of different ways. Maybe they are full of interpersonal issues, are needy and disrespectful, or maybe they try to manipulate and control you, and are extremely critical of themselves and other people. Whatever the case, dealing with toxic people isn’t easy.
If you are often made uncomfortable by how those around you treat you, maybe it’s time to set and maintain personal boundaries. Clear boundaries that will help ensure your relationships are mutually respectful, supportive and caring. You deserve to be treated well.
It’s time to establish boundaries in your life for negative people, and these toxic people quotes are the necessary first step. They will inspire you to set the limits for acceptable behavior from those around you and help you avoid getting too close to people who don’t have your best interests at heart.
Toxic people can only upset you if you let them upset you. Recognize and distance yourself from their behavior. And when interacting with them, focus on the positive.
Below is our collection of inspirational, wise, and thoughtful, toxic people quotes, toxic people sayings, and toxic people proverbs, collected from a variety of sources over the years.
Toxic People Quotes To Help You Develop Boundaries
1.) “If it comes, let it come. If it goes, it’s ok, let it go. Let things come and go. Stay calm, don’t let anything disturb your peace, and carry on.” ― Germany Kent
2,) “It’s amazing how quickly things can turn around when you remove toxic people from your life.” — Robert Tew
3.) “You create more space in your life when you turn your excess baggage to garbage.” ― Chinonye J. Chidolue
4.) “Pay no attention to toxic words. What people say is often a reflection of themselves, not you.” ― Christian Baloga
5.) “Letting go of toxic people in your life is a big step in loving yourself.” – Hussein Nishah
6.) “Don’t let toxic people infect you with the fearof giving and receiving one of the most powerful forces in this world… LOVE!”― Yvonne Pierre
7.) “Don’t let negative and toxic people rent space in your head. Raise the rent and kick them out.” — Robert Tew
8.) “You lift your spirits by moving away from what upsets you. If the stove is hot, you can’t ask how to touch it but be happy about it.” ― Queen Tourmaline
9.) “If a person finds negative people in his life, then he needs to mend his own nature than that of others, for his own basic grounding decides the level of acidic or toxicity surrounding him.” — Anuj Somany
10.) “Toxic people will pollute everything around them. Don’t hesitate. Fumigate.” ― Mandy Hale
Toxic people quotes to inspire healthy self-respect
11.) “There’s folks you just don’t need. You’re better off without em. Your life is just a little better because they ain’t in it.” ― William Gay
12.) “There are people who break you down by just being them. They need not do anything. Dissociate” ― Malebo Sephodi
13.) “Every day you must unlearn the ways that hold you back. You must rid yourself of negativity, so you can learn to fly.” — Leon Brown
14.) “We all have those toxic people around us that make our lives miserable… The day we take them out from our lives, we will all become better people; including them…” ― Rodolfo Peon
15.) “Letting go doesn’t mean that you don’t care about someone anymore. It’s just realizing that the only person you really have control over is yourself.” — Deborah Reber
16.) “How you choose to feel today should not be dependent on others.” ― Anthon St. Maarten
17.) “May you reach that level within, where you no longer allow your past or people with toxic intentions to negatively affect or condition you.” ― Lalah Delia
18.) “Surround yourself with positive people who believe in your dreams, encourage your ideas, support your ambitions, and bring out the best in you.” — Roy Bennett
19.) “Let negative people live their negative lives with their negative minds.”― Moosa Rahat
20.) “Toxic people attach themselves like cinder blocks tied to your ankles, and then invite you for a swim in their poisoned waters.” ― John Mark Green
Quotes about toxic friends, family and relationships
21.) “As you remove toxic people from your life, you free up space and emotional energy for positive, healthy relationships.” ― John Mark Green
22.) “I have found the best way to deal with a toxic person is to not respond in any other way than monotone voice and a businesslike manner.” ― Jen Grice
23.) “Weeding out the harmful influences should become the norm not the exception.” ― Carlos Wallace
24.) “You will find that it is necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy. So let them go, let go of them. I tie no weights to my ankles.” — C. JoyBell C.
25.) “We teach people how to treat us.” – Dr. Phil
26.) “Sometimes it’s better to end something & try to start something new than imprison yourself in hoping for the impossible.” – Karen Salmansohn
27.) “People appear like angels until you hear them speak. You must not rush to judge people by the color of their cloaks, but by the content of their words!” ― Israelmore Ayivor
28.) “Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too can become great.” — Mark Twain
29.) “Look around you at the people you spend the most time with and realize that your life can’t rise any higher than your friendships.” ― Mandy Hale
30.) “Stop letting people who do so little for you control so much of your mind, feelings, and emotions.” — Will Smith
Toxic people quotes to help you set and maintain boundaries
31.) “When people pressure you to engage in negative decisions and actions, look at them boldly in the eyes and dare them to do good.” ― Edmond Mbiaka
32.) “Don’t ever stop believing in your own transformation. It is still happening even on days you may not realize it or feel like it.” ― Lalah Delia
33.) “Letting go means to come to the realization that some people are a part of your history, but not a part of your destiny.” — Dr. Steve Maraboli
34.) “If a negative viewer looks at you with an ugly fiendish eye, find a way and pluck off his eyes, or better still, protect your good image.” ― Michael Bassey Johnson
35.) “People inspire you, or they drain you. Pick them wisely.” — Hans F. Hasen
36.) “Save your skin from the corrosive acids from the mouths of toxic people. Someone who just helped you to speak evil about another person can later help another person to speak evil about you.” ― Israelmore Ayivor
37.) “I will not allow anyone to walk in my mind with dirty feet.” – Mahatma Gandhi
38.) “Some people are in such utter darkness that they will burn you just to see a light. Try not to take it personally.” ― Kamand Kojouri
39.) “We do not have to be mental health professionals to identify the traits of the possible sociopaths among us.” ― P.A. Speers
40.) “These are the attributes of Bullshit people; they will…blur your imagination, take your endowments for a piece of debris, make you ridiculous, and most importantly, you got to send them to the recycle bin.” ― Michael Bassey Johnson
Toxic people quotes to help you deal with negativity
41.) “Don’t let people get the best of you they can say what they want but don’t let that distract you from achieving your goals.” ― Alcurtis Turner
42.) “Until you let go of all the toxic people in your life you will never be able to grow into your fullest potential. Let them go so you can grow.” – DLQ
43.) “The friends who would forsake you for choosing to live a positive life, would also leave you if you find yourself going through some painful consequences due to some negative decisions and actions.” ― Edmond Mbiaka
44.) “You cannot expect to live a positive life if you hang with negative people.” — Joel Osteen
45.) “We don’t get to choose our family, but we can choose our friends. With courage, we can weed out narcissistic people. We can focus on those who do appreciate us, love us, and treat us with respect.” ― Dana Arcuri
46.) “If they do it often, it isn’t a mistake; it’s just their behavior.” — Dr. Steve Maraboli
47.) “My encouragement: delete the energy vampires from your life, clean out all complexity, build a team around you that frees you to fly, remove anything toxic, and cherish simplicity. Because that’s where genius lives.” — Robin S. Sharma
48.) “Someone who smiles too much with you can sometime frown too much with you at your back.” ― Michael Bassey Johnson
49.) “It is really exhausting to live in a dictatorship of ‘Me’, which is basically a tyranny of others.” ― Stefan Molyneux
50.) “Let go of negative people. They only show up to share complaints, problems, disastrous stories, fear, and judgment on others. If somebody is looking for a bin to throw all their trash into, make sure it’s not in your mind.” – Dalai Lama
Which of these toxic people quotes was your favorite?
Sometimes you find yourself with a friend, family member, or a partner who is really difficult to get along with. When you’re around them, you feel degraded or manipulated. Dealing with such people is never easy so you should find ways to tune out the toxicity that can’t be avoided.
Don’t invest too much time or effort with toxic people. They don’t deserve your mental energy. Hopefully, the toxic people quotes above will help you deal with such negative people.
How did you find these toxic people quotes? Do you have any other inspirational quotes to add to the list? Let us know in the comment section below. Also, don’t forget to share with your friends and followers.
If you’ve recognized you need to set limits with people in your life, these toxic people quotes will help you do just that.
We all have toxic people in our lives who can’t be avoided. It could be a friend, family member, or a coworker whom you just can’t stand.
Their toxicity manifests in a lot of different ways. Maybe they are full of interpersonal issues, are needy and disrespectful, or maybe they try to manipulate and control you, and are extremely critical of themselves and other people. Whatever the case, dealing with toxic people isn’t easy.
If you are often made uncomfortable by how those around you treat you, maybe it’s time to set and maintain personal boundaries. Clear boundaries that will help ensure your relationships are mutually respectful, supportive and caring. You deserve to be treated well.
It’s time to establish boundaries in your life for negative people, and these toxic people quotes are the necessary first step. They will inspire you to set the limits for acceptable behavior from those around you and help you avoid getting too close to people who don’t have your best interests at heart.
Toxic people can only upset you if you let them upset you. Recognize and distance yourself from their behavior. And when interacting with them, focus on the positive.
Below is our collection of inspirational, wise, and thoughtful, toxic people quotes, toxic people sayings, and toxic people proverbs, collected from a variety of sources over the years.
Toxic People Quotes To Help You Develop Boundaries
1.) “If it comes, let it come. If it goes, it’s ok, let it go. Let things come and go. Stay calm, don’t let anything disturb your peace, and carry on.” ― Germany Kent
2,) “It’s amazing how quickly things can turn around when you remove toxic people from your life.” — Robert Tew
3.) “You create more space in your life when you turn your excess baggage to garbage.” ― Chinonye J. Chidolue
4.) “Pay no attention to toxic words. What people say is often a reflection of themselves, not you.” ― Christian Baloga
5.) “Letting go of toxic people in your life is a big step in loving yourself.” – Hussein Nishah
6.) “Don’t let toxic people infect you with the fearof giving and receiving one of the most powerful forces in this world… LOVE!”― Yvonne Pierre
7.) “Don’t let negative and toxic people rent space in your head. Raise the rent and kick them out.” — Robert Tew
8.) “You lift your spirits by moving away from what upsets you. If the stove is hot, you can’t ask how to touch it but be happy about it.” ― Queen Tourmaline
9.) “If a person finds negative people in his life, then he needs to mend his own nature than that of others, for his own basic grounding decides the level of acidic or toxicity surrounding him.” — Anuj Somany
10.) “Toxic people will pollute everything around them. Don’t hesitate. Fumigate.” ― Mandy Hale
Toxic people quotes to inspire healthy self-respect
11.) “There’s folks you just don’t need. You’re better off without em. Your life is just a little better because they ain’t in it.” ― William Gay
12.) “There are people who break you down by just being them. They need not do anything. Dissociate” ― Malebo Sephodi
13.) “Every day you must unlearn the ways that hold you back. You must rid yourself of negativity, so you can learn to fly.” — Leon Brown
14.) “We all have those toxic people around us that make our lives miserable… The day we take them out from our lives, we will all become better people; including them…” ― Rodolfo Peon
15.) “Letting go doesn’t mean that you don’t care about someone anymore. It’s just realizing that the only person you really have control over is yourself.” — Deborah Reber
16.) “How you choose to feel today should not be dependent on others.” ― Anthon St. Maarten
17.) “May you reach that level within, where you no longer allow your past or people with toxic intentions to negatively affect or condition you.” ― Lalah Delia
18.) “Surround yourself with positive people who believe in your dreams, encourage your ideas, support your ambitions, and bring out the best in you.” — Roy Bennett
19.) “Let negative people live their negative lives with their negative minds.”― Moosa Rahat
20.) “Toxic people attach themselves like cinder blocks tied to your ankles, and then invite you for a swim in their poisoned waters.” ― John Mark Green
Quotes about toxic friends, family and relationships
21.) “As you remove toxic people from your life, you free up space and emotional energy for positive, healthy relationships.” ― John Mark Green
22.) “I have found the best way to deal with a toxic person is to not respond in any other way than monotone voice and a businesslike manner.” ― Jen Grice
23.) “Weeding out the harmful influences should become the norm not the exception.” ― Carlos Wallace
24.) “You will find that it is necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy. So let them go, let go of them. I tie no weights to my ankles.” — C. JoyBell C.
25.) “We teach people how to treat us.” – Dr. Phil
26.) “Sometimes it’s better to end something & try to start something new than imprison yourself in hoping for the impossible.” – Karen Salmansohn
27.) “People appear like angels until you hear them speak. You must not rush to judge people by the color of their cloaks, but by the content of their words!” ― Israelmore Ayivor
28.) “Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too can become great.” — Mark Twain
29.) “Look around you at the people you spend the most time with and realize that your life can’t rise any higher than your friendships.” ― Mandy Hale
30.) “Stop letting people who do so little for you control so much of your mind, feelings, and emotions.” — Will Smith
Toxic people quotes to help you set and maintain boundaries
31.) “When people pressure you to engage in negative decisions and actions, look at them boldly in the eyes and dare them to do good.” ― Edmond Mbiaka
32.) “Don’t ever stop believing in your own transformation. It is still happening even on days you may not realize it or feel like it.” ― Lalah Delia
33.) “Letting go means to come to the realization that some people are a part of your history, but not a part of your destiny.” — Dr. Steve Maraboli
34.) “If a negative viewer looks at you with an ugly fiendish eye, find a way and pluck off his eyes, or better still, protect your good image.” ― Michael Bassey Johnson
35.) “People inspire you, or they drain you. Pick them wisely.” — Hans F. Hasen
36.) “Save your skin from the corrosive acids from the mouths of toxic people. Someone who just helped you to speak evil about another person can later help another person to speak evil about you.” ― Israelmore Ayivor
37.) “I will not allow anyone to walk in my mind with dirty feet.” – Mahatma Gandhi
38.) “Some people are in such utter darkness that they will burn you just to see a light. Try not to take it personally.” ― Kamand Kojouri
39.) “We do not have to be mental health professionals to identify the traits of the possible sociopaths among us.” ― P.A. Speers
40.) “These are the attributes of Bullshit people; they will…blur your imagination, take your endowments for a piece of debris, make you ridiculous, and most importantly, you got to send them to the recycle bin.” ― Michael Bassey Johnson
Toxic people quotes to help you deal with negativity
41.) “Don’t let people get the best of you they can say what they want but don’t let that distract you from achieving your goals.” ― Alcurtis Turner
42.) “Until you let go of all the toxic people in your life you will never be able to grow into your fullest potential. Let them go so you can grow.” – DLQ
43.) “The friends who would forsake you for choosing to live a positive life, would also leave you if you find yourself going through some painful consequences due to some negative decisions and actions.” ― Edmond Mbiaka
44.) “You cannot expect to live a positive life if you hang with negative people.” — Joel Osteen
45.) “We don’t get to choose our family, but we can choose our friends. With courage, we can weed out narcissistic people. We can focus on those who do appreciate us, love us, and treat us with respect.” ― Dana Arcuri
46.) “If they do it often, it isn’t a mistake; it’s just their behavior.” — Dr. Steve Maraboli
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oneus and their respective hogwarts houses
im not sure if this goes under scenarios but im curious on what hogwarts houses you would sort oneus into? i've seen a few but they're all so different!!! im curious on where you would put them all in, especially after seeing the to be or not to be story film yesterday 😄
☽. originally, i would have decline this request since it’s under headcanons. but i decided to give this a go since i thought this would be fun to try! do understand that this is just my opinion (❁´◡`❁) be sure to check out more in my masterlist if you liked this!
requested: yes; anon
word count: 1.2k words
[RAVN] — slytherin
Second choice: Hufflepuff
I think... this is a bit of a controversial take? Especially since it sounds unlikely for someone to fit into both Slytherin and Hufflepuff (plus, a lot of people would assign Youngjo to Slytherin without any room for doubt)
But the thing is, placing him in Slytherin would coincide with how he presents himself and what his overall vibe exudes
His roles as a producer/lyricist for the group and as the eldest member would give off this vibe that he’s all for ambition and meeting goals (might be the reason why people would think he’s ONEUS’ leader as well)
However, for that same reason that he is the eldest member is why I think he fits well in Hufflepuff as well
The rest of the members see him as a reliable person who takes care of each member, serving some sort of father-figure to the rest of them
He makes sure to check up on each of them, he isn’t afraid to shower each of them with affection, and he pretty much serves an important role to keep them all together (which can be attributed to the friendliness and loyalty traits associated with Hufflepuffs)
But overall, I think putting Youngjo in Slytherin will show everyone that being goal-driven and ambitious will not necessarily make you a bad person, so he’s pretty much a groundbreaker as a Slytherin (just like ONEUS as a group are in the scheme of K-Wave hehe)
[Seoho] — ravenclaw
Second choice: Slytherin
I don’t think... you can question this... Especially when you know that almost everyone in ONEUS have discussed how unique Seoho’s way of interpreting everything around him is
Being unique in ideologies and methods is something notable among Ravenclaws, and the fact that he has genuine interest in learning (science in particular) is another manifestation of his being a Ravenclaw
Seoho also isn’t afraid to share what he knows too, you’ll often see him correcting the other members about scientific knowledge (and Ravenclaws are known to be the type of people who aren’t afraid to show others what they know)
In fact, Seoho likes to show off his skills and talents when he can
I feel like a lot of who he is is very grounded on the fact that he likes to learn and improve, so for me, assigning him as a Ravenclaw is very fitting
ALTHOUGH I do believe he’d fit well in Slytherin as well, not only because of his tendency to be a bit mischievous but also because he likes to think outside of the box (which could be interpreted as diversion from rules and the norm)
There are traits that can overlap with Ravenclaws and Slytherins, but I personally think he’d fit better under Ravenclaw
[Leedo] — gryffindor
Second choice: Hufflepuff
I know that by personality, Geonhak really exudes traits of a Hufflepuff
He’s kind-hearted, he loves the people around him, and he’s quite domestic as a person (a homebody, a good cook, among others)
However as demonstrated by several characters in the Harry Potter series, even if people can depict traits from various houses, assigning them to particular houses will help them flourish as individuals
I believe that Geonhak in Gryffindor would help him develop more holistically, and assigning him there would coincide with his experience as an idol
Considering how much it hurt Geonhak to have his trust betrayed, you can tell how much he valued that in his relationships with other people (which for me, is a trait that would make him a Hufflepuff)
To be able to bounce back from that experience and join RBW (and consequently ONEUS) is a gamble in itself, and would definitely take a lot of courage and bravery to do
Assigning Geonhak to Gryffindor will help him get out of his comfort zone unlike keeping him in Hufflepuff
And seeing how much he has grown as an idol for taking that leap of fate is something that I believe depicts a true Gryffindor
[Keonhee] — hufflepuff
Second choice: Ravenclaw
This sunshine boy... Everything about him screams Hufflepuff :,)
Everyone in the group will always mention how soft-hearted Keonhee is, and how he’s the type to hype everyone up and lift up everyone’s mood
Keonhee himself prides in the fact that he carries such bright energy wherever he goes
His whole aura and vibe is just so friendly and homey so it’s hard to put him somewhere else;;;
BUT... I don’t think a lot of people discuss how smart Keonhee actually is??
He’s very good at remembering important milestones, as exemplified by the way he remembers dates related to ToMoons (and the ability to memorize things is a notable trait among Ravenclaws)
He’s very attentive to details and he’s pretty witty himself
Although comparing these traits, his being a Ravenclaw for me comes secondary to his being a Hufflepuff
It would seem fitting to put him an atmosphere where you know he will not only thrive in, but in a place he’s very much accustomed to
Just like Youngjo, I think assigning him in Hufflepuff will make him a groundbreaker too (so that people don’t see Hufflepuffs as only nice people
[Hwanwoong] — slytherin
Second choice: Gryffindor
I feel like it’s also the obvious choice to put Hwanwoong in Slytherin, but Gryffindor as a second choice might be a bit farfetched
Hwanwoong himself is very determined, ambitious, and he does seem like someone to me who is very goal-oriented
He also carries confidence in what he does, which is a notable trait among Slytherins
And his role as ONEUS’ main dancer also proves how capable he is as a leader
At that point, it’s seems obvious to put him as a Slytherin, but I did hesitate at first because I personally think he would fit as a Gryffindor as well
There’s something about Hwanwoong’s demeanor that strikes me as someone who’s chivalrous, many people who have met him have mentioned that he was very nice, respectful, and polite to people around him
While traits like these are things to be expected from everyone, I just believe that Hwanwoong really carries these traits wherever he go and to whomever he interacts with
He’s also quite determined, driven, and daring but ultimately, Slytherin would fit him best in my opinion
[XION] — hufflepuff
Second choice: Ravenclaw
By nature, I don’t see Dongju as anything else aside from a Hufflepuff
He’s a natural caretaker, he nurtures everyone around him and makes sure everyone is well taken care of
I’m not saying as if Hufflepuffs have to be friendly and very nurturing to be considered as one, but I want to connect it to how Hufflepuffs are known to be people who value loyalty and inclusivity
Everyone in WeUs can attest to the fact that Dongju has been naturally supportive and caring of everyone, and that’s probably the most conclusive evidence of assigning him to Hufflepuff
He’s also modest and humble, he admits that he’d rather take fewer lines in songs because he isn’t confident about his skills yet
But what made me believe that he could be in Ravenclaw as well is the fact that he’s very attentive to details (just like Keonhee to be honest)
He also depicts the willingness to learn about things around him, and if you keep up with his vlives, he offers very wise advice for someone his age
However, his traits as a Hufflepuff overpower all that, and putting him here will probably make him shine better as an individual
#oneus#oneus scenarios#oneus headcanons#oneus imagines#oneus reactions#oneus drabbles#oneus au#oneus harry potter au#oneus hogwarts au#ravn#kim youngjo#seoho#lee seoho#lee gunmin#leedo#kim geonhak#kim gunhak#keonhee#lee keonhee#hwanwoong#yeo hwanwoong#xion#son dongju#requests#150 follower milestone#tomoonine writing
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Essek Thelyss & Verin Thelyss, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss
Characters: Essek Thelyss, Verin Thelyss
Additional Tags: Just two siblings talking about feelings, established shadowgast
Summary:
Verin noticed his internal conflict, but he wasn't able to guess Essek's train of thought. He stood up and look him in the eye.
“Why him, Essek? Why is he so special?”
(In which the Mighty Nein have been invited to dinner by the Umavi Deirta Thelyss and her two children have a heart-to-heart conversation while they wait for them)
“This is all your fault”
“I don't see how it could be. I didn't do anything” answered Essek without looking at his brother. “It was our mother's idea.”
“It was our mother's idea” repeated Verin, mocking his voice. “Bullshit. It's your fault. Our lives were happy and peaceful, and we didn't gather for more than fifteen years. But then you've decided to go out of your lair and get yourself a boyfriend.”
Essek felt the warm creeping over his cheeks, but he hoped he was able to hide it well enough. He didn't want to give his brother more material that he could use against him. He already had enough of his repertoire.
“That's not the reason why she's doing this. Our mother only wants to check if the Mighty Nein could be used as leverage in her schemes.” Not that he was to allow it, but he was wiser than to confront his mother straightforwardly. He worked better behind the scene, anyway, hiding in the shadows. “And he is not my boyfriend. We're… figuring things out.”
It sounded bland and hackneyed, but it was the truth. He and Caleb talked about it, and that was their mutual agreement. Everything was overly complicated already, taking in count the Mighty Nein knew about his endeavors with the Assembly. Essek's position as regards the group was precarious, to say the least. A few of them felt some resentment against him and he couldn't blame them. It would have been understandable if they decided not to trust him ever again. Why Caleb still could have faith in him, was a mystery. Essek couldn't fathom why would he hold any sort of feelings towards him either, even if Caleb was persuasive enough to convince him that he did. Words could lie, he knew, he mastered that art. But glances, and caresses, and tender smiles between kisses were a whole different story, one than Caleb told him with blunt sincerity and Essek couldn't help believing.
“That's definitely the face of someone that is thinking of a person which is figuring things out with, sure” Verin leaned back on the armchair he had claimed and raised one eyebrow. Essek, standing, looked at him from above with a deadpan expression. “I swear I still can't believe this is happening. I was so sure you will die alone in that huge tower of yours, surrounded by thirty cats that will feast on your remains.”
“That's hilarious. Hilarious and disgusting” said Essek with a tone that expressed he didn't find it funny at all. “Don't make that kind of jokes during dinner, please”
Verin gave him a grin.
“Why not? Do you fear that I will embarrass you in front of your figuring-things-out-friend?”
“No, my sweet little brother. I fear that they might like you.”
Verin laughed wholeheartedly, making Essek crack a little smile.
“What is your opinion on this?” He knew his brother well enough to try and be more specific before he could find room for another witty comment. “About Caleb and me, I mean.”
“Hold on a second, since when do you care about what I think? Are you okay? Did you hit your head or-?”
“I know mother will expound her point of view as clearly as she likes. I was hoping that, if you have something to say as well, we can discuss it privately, so I only have to deal with one criticism at a time.”
He seems to think about it for a little while until he finally said:
“Well… he's a human. A human from the Empire. That's weird.”
“I assume it must look like it is, yes.”
“But, that's not even the weirdest thing. The worst of all is that he is a wizard. A wizard, Essek! Do you know how untrustworthy wizards are?”
Of course, Verin wasn't talking seriously, but he can't help but think of what his brother would think of him if he knew how right he was. What Essek has done. How he, unintentionally, started a war that could have endangered his own brother.
How he was responsible for their father's death.
Before meeting the Mighty Nein, those thoughts wouldn't have even made him twitch. But now…
Now…
Regret is a novelty that didn't wear off easily. He didn't use to worry about the consequences of his actions, but at that moment, he realized his ambitions could have cost him more than he was willing to pay. Only one thin thread on the big tapestry of the odds had prevented his brother from being one of the numerous corpses soiling the ground of the battlefront, instead of being there, pestering him, laughing at his own jokes.
Before meeting the Mighty Nein, he has had already so much to lose but he couldn't see it. They didn't only give him another chance; they also give him perspective.
He thought he could live with the idea of his brother hating him. Essek had been alone for so long that he believed for a matter of fact that he didn't need anyone else. But the idea of Verin finding the truth, blaming him for what he did, was terrifying.
Verin noticed his internal conflict, but he wasn't able to guess Essek's train of thought. He stood up and look him in the eye.
“Why him, Essek? Why is he so special?”
His guilt didn't disappear, but that question was enough to bring him back to the conversation. That was his current battle: his denmother, his younger brother, the dinner all of them would be sharing with the Mighty Nein in less than an hour.
One concern at a time, he told himself. The first thing was finding a good answer to his brother's question. A very uninspired one, he thought. Only the seriousness his brother used to drew it up stopped Essek from dodging it and telling him he sounded like the side character of a badly written romance novel. He couldn't do it because he knew Verin's worry was sincere and that it was his way to show it.
“He’s outstandingly intelligent. Although he’s lacking formal education, he’s a competent…”
“Blah, blah. Magical nerdy stuff is one of the reasons, I get it. I didn’t even doubt it. But if that were enough, you would have hooked up with any of those stuffy people from the Marble Conservatory, but you didn’t, and it’s not as if you didn’t have your pick. You used to have a flock of infuriating suitors.”
“Yes, and all of them were infuriating, as you’ve correctly pointed out.”
“Well… but one or two should have been salvageable, I guess. But you’ve never had a partner before. Not one I’d heard of, at least.”
“I’ve never had a partner before, period.”
“See? That’s why I’m so curious! It must be something else!”
Verin was right: there was something else, but he didn't want to talk about it. He's always been proud of being discreet, keeping his matters to himself. Verin, on the contrary, shared everything, even those things Essek would have preferred not to know. It was an unbalanced dynamic, the one that they had, but Essek felt sheltered that way, stronger. Talking about what Caleb meant to him... Essek knew it would make him seem vulnerable and he didn't want that.
But that was the point in trying to do better, wasn’t it? Doing what is necessary to improve, even when he considered it to be the last thing he wanted to do. He had a long road ahead, but he could start with that little step. He took a deep breath.
“He is… He is everything I thought I didn’t need until I had him in front of me.” His mouth started getting significantly drier with every word he said, while he felt how goosebumps claimed his entire skin. He felt awful, self-conscious, and exposed, the same way he felt beneath the deck of the Ball-Eater, the day he confessed his crimes. He hated it just as much, but that probably meant he was doing something right, so he kept going. “He’s caring and understanding. He’s fun in his own awkward, delightful way. I’m still amazed at how much kindness he can show, after… After everything. I’ve never met someone with such endurance before. He’s admirable, in every possible way.”
He gave him a second chance when any other person would have made him pay for his wrongdoings. He hoped for him to be a better person, and Essek obliged out of selfishness, as he always did. He still believed in the cause he sold his soul to. His pursuit of knowledge, crossing limits anyone else hasn’t even dared to reach. He had lived through that desire, put all his stakes on it. In an ambient where he could not thrive, surrounded by people that didn’t understand him and didn’t care for him, magic was the only thing that pushed him forward. Without that itch, without his ambitions, what was left for him?
Love, he learned that infamous night in Nicodranas. There was warmth. There was friendship. There was love.
There was Jester, lovely Jester, holding his hand.
There was Caduceus, urging him to spit his dirty secrets as if he were trying to make him vomit a poison that was killing him inside.
There was Caleb, with his eyes, and his hands, and his lips. He kissed him gently, in a moment when any other person would have landed a stab-wound between his ribs.
That’s why his change was so selfish. He could not drop every project he had fought for during all his life and change just for himself. But he could change for them. Be whatever the Mighty Nein wanted him to be: a friend, an ally, or a lover. Damn, he would even be a good person! He was trapped and enthralled, and he never, ever, would like to be let go.
Did he ever stand a chance? No, probably he didn’t, not against them, at least. Not against Caleb.
“I wasn’t seeking companionship when I first met him” Essek admitted, “but when we stumble on each other, when I had the opportunity to talk to him and get to know him better… I couldn’t help but see how similar we were, and yet so different. I don’t know how to explain it, just… Everything between us clicked together.”
“An instant connection. How romantic.” Essek was grateful for the lighthearted inflection of his brother’s voice. That was normal, familiar. It was a good grip to keep his mind from spiraling. “Who knows. Perhaps the Light pushed you two together and you are meant to be, after all. I mean, what were the odds of you finding another oddball like you?”
What were the odds, indeed.
“I don’t believe in destiny.”
“Of course you don’t. People like you have ‘destiny’ for breakfast, but even you would admit that this is some kind of divine intervention. I mean…”
“Yes, I found someone that can stand me. A miracle” Essek replied with a deadpan expression, “You might find someone someday as well, if you ever stop being a little brat.”
Verin showed him the sharp point of his fangs. Essek was sure his brother was preparing himself for the delivering of another witty comment, but instead, he just shrugged and gave him an honest smile.
“You seem quite different, I would say.”
“Well, I am different. I suppose it shows.”
After a brief pause, Verin added:
“You really love him, huh?”
Essek didn’t need to consider the answer.
“I do, Verin. I love him immensely” he admitted so naturally that he surprised himself. That was such a profound truth that he couldn’t have expressed it with less honesty, because it wouldn’t have sounded right any other way. “Not only him. I love all of them. They’ve changed my life for the better. My relationship with Caleb has indeed meant a lot of adjustments in both our lives, but it works somehow, and it makes me happier than I can express with words.”
Verin blinked once, then twice.
“That’s… wow. Just wow. It turns out that nor only you have feelings, but you’re also able to talk about them! I’m impressed, I’ll admit it.” Essek raised an eyebrow, but Verin kept talking before he could comment on anything. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m not teasing you right now… well, a little, but that’s what I always do. Believe me, I’m glad to hear you’re happy. It’s everything I could have hoped for you.”
Verin patted his shoulder a few times, a gesture that probably was just friendly between well-built soldiers, but it was a little rougher against someone as slim as Essek. He was able to keep his balance and his dignity with it. It hurt a little, but he did not express it in any way. He was too grateful for his brother’s reaction to getting mad at him for not knowing his own strength. Verin really mean everything he had said, Essek knew, and that tugged at his heartstrings. He cared; he had always had. Essek was lucky to have a brother like him, he thought.
“I have a question, though”, Verin began.
“Go ahead, please.”
Verin grinned.
“May I call that Caleb brother-in-law?”
Essek didn't hesitate.
“Don't you dare.”
***
Fun fact: If ‘Person A talking about their feelings for Person B with Person C’ can be considered a trope, it’s my favorite one.
Fun fact 2: This is not really my hc for Verin and Essek’s relationship. I think they hate each other’s guts, but I started writing this and I thought: ‘Oh, okay, this dynamic is wholesome. I’ll stick with it’
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