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#cue more spite applications
jihopng · 4 months
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*please note that this blog is a sideblog to redlike so i cannot follow anyone back!
things i shouldn't be: this. things i'm doing: this. i'm bringing in my second character; kim jiho, who i feel is a lot more approachable than hanbi and definitely far sillier in comparison! definitely a bit of a comedic relief character so!! as per usual, information underneath the cut and you can read his brief about page here xoxo
only child, born to a human mom and an anomaly having dad!
his mother has always been on the sickish side, so they lived off of a single salary, which wasn't much when you consider the fact it was a construction worker's paycheck (and his dad was basically getting overworked bc of course the employer would exploit the fact that their worker cannot get hurt on the poorly secured construction sites...) in spite of it, jiho has a genuinely normal upbringing and a loving family.
as per law of nature, and his dad being a registered anomaly, he was being monitored like always. and for a bit jihoparents were thinking that their son is simply a human, and that he will live a normal life but of course there is always an of course
*tw car accident* when he is 4 years old, he's slippery and hyperactive and so he runs after his ball into open road. a passing car hits him and he's like, a preschooler and a car is a car so. he's badly hurt and there's drama and. well. the nasty wound on his face closes on its own and eventually his broken bone heals on its own. soo that is how the big news is broken to his parents that jiho did in fact inherit his dad's sturdiness aka a regenerative healing factor! at least it's something helpful and at least his mom doesn't have to worry about him hurting himself?
anw. gets lowkey bullied through school for being a loser and having an anomaly because it's lowkey freakish in kids' eyes ??? but also the bullying is kinda??? literally why are u bullying n doing all of that extra shit to someone who can't get hurt BUT ANYWAYS it pissed other teens off how he would stand up even after getting a whole chair broken on him so. never back down never what? never give up. it's like that two goats on a bridge story. literally jiho all u had to do was remain there on the ground and pretend youre broken . alas...
skip forward. third year in his nursing degree on a full scholarship (his application letter was a really, really nice sob story. no ai) bc he wants to help his mom and in general wants to help people. feels lowk guilty that both him and his dad are in perfect health while she's always struggling. tried applying to gangcheori as a yin, but then the administrative facility looked at him like "you good?" and put him in yang. he shrugged it off. he just wants to be involved x
however, if youre wondering how did he get this far and how is he maintaining his scholarships? damn.. me too. seemingly with no work ethic at all and takes things wayyy too casually for his own good. you look at him and you're like damn... HE is gonna draw my blood??? but in reality he is very dedicated .. when he wants to be. n he's doing it for his mom. yes. mom's boy. look away...
libra sun gemini moon cancer rising and if i know anything from twitter its that libra men are to be avoided??
genuinely someone who's always positive and joking around, trying to make the mood good even if the apocalypse is happening around him. a little bad with social cues (you're crying because of a failed exam that's totally going to end your entire career life forever and ever and he's telling you about this fish with a massive forehead he's seen on tv and how the XYZ-class professor is forehead twinning with the fish), will definitely tell you he shares birthday with eminem, doesn't really take people mad at him seriously until it's last second. laid back. unserious. social anxiety fears him: the character. blame it on him getting hit on the head one too many times and some stuff not healing properly. it's easier to explain it like that
always around the campus doing SOMETHING..in everyone's business, nosey men epidemic and hes a victim of it. avid tiktok user. addicted to tetris + sugar
content of his messenger bag: timetable, study books, painkillers (for others), snacks (for himself), chili powder, dry food (for campus stray cats), wallet, entangled headphones, hand sanitizer, a singular pencil (questionable if it works), a hot wheels batman car, bandages + bandage scissors, glow stick, failed lottery tickets, keys.
his anomaly is regenerative healing factor! it can range from a scratch healing almost instantly like it never happened, over getting stabbed and then continuing to classes, to him regrowing a limb a-la deadpool 2 style over the span of a month or two. just don't try it because his powers don't actually nullify pain, meaning that everything still hurts like hell and he will cry. power is kinda op so there's more limitations on his mini dossier !!
as far as plots go, obviously always down for brainstorming but here's some stuff i came up with !!
while he's in yellow hall i still haven't actually placed him in a room so if anyone wants a roommate lmk!! very much gen v lizzie coded where he does have a whole minifridge with snacks and alcohol he carefully snuck in, is always ready for a party and will be your personal hypeman. hangs on his maximum brightness phone late into the night ...
like i said he's always around on campus and actually he's always skateboarding! so he keeps running into your muse... again and again and at some point they BOTH start thinking the other is doing it on purpose but it's literally a coincidence???
or.. in typical jiho loser fashion he falls down while skating. scrapes his cheek against the pavement. his leg is twisted. your character runs up to him because what the fuck. except jiho just twists his leg back and smiles as his face comes clean again. but your character was sooo worried so they owe him a get better meal now
in same breath, your character knows that jiho can heal and nothing will happen to him if in dangerous situations so they pay him to beat someone up? except he can't really fight BUT he takes the money anyway...
god help you if the person who came to your mind for fake dating so that one weirdo leaves you alone is jiho but he will try his hardest to be the best fake boyfriend ever even if it really does look fake as hell because bro's never even held hands
yellow hall and gangcheori friends! like i said he's easy to be friends with so anything goes
he feeds any cat he can come across of around yellow hall (and elsewhere.) so someone who is maybe also doing it? like damn we are really overfeeding them... or someone who's like. a hater ... why are you teaching the cats to make a home here theyre all strays
drinking buddies except it takes him so much to get drunk that you've also made a pact where jiho is gambling as to who can outdrink him and he always wins so you share the money
🌿 buddies except it takes him so much to get high that you're wondering why is he even trying to do it???
anyways. jihocore
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also for current event! jiho will be attending the blue hall afterparty because he does not own a single piece of fancy clothes. probably doing kegstands somewhere in the corner. daring people to get drunk with him. getting into fights with drunk people? and / or helping getting the drunkards to dorm rooms so they're safe
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dustbunny105 · 1 year
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Title: Ready or Not Fandom: Transformers IDW2 Ship: Arcee/Greenlight Word Count: 1000 Rating: PG Summary: Missing scene. Arcee and Greenlight prepare themselves to meet their new ward. A/N: For Femslash February and for the femslash100100 prompt “ready”! I'm finally allowed to post my piece for Femme Metale-- which I'll be doing shortly-- and it put me in a mood for more Arceenlight+Gauge :D Granted, Gauge is barely in this but still!
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All of Cybertron seemed to be speaking at once, white noise dancing like static over Arcee's last functioning nerve. Her hands twitched for a weapon-- a blade, a blaster, anything at all that she could use. But, of course, no weapon would serve her here, now.
Her hands twitched again in spite of the thought and Greenlight caught one of them in one of her own, a better fit than any weapon ever had been. Maybe, Arcee thought, this was what she had been twitching for after all. She returned the grip and turned to find Greenlight smiling at her. Arcee felt herself relax but couldn't dredge up a smile of her own.
"It's alright to be nervous," Greenlight said, the murmur somehow cutting through the incessant background noise of the crowd. Her smile faltered and Arcee could see the flicker of a shadow beyond the love shining in the light of her optics. She hadn't known Brainstorm well but she had known him and the shock of his death-- his murder-- ran deep regardless. "Especially now."
"There was supposed to be more time," Arcee said, the words heavy with the topic she was speaking around. "I didn't expect--"
"Who did?" Greenlight's grip grew tighter, her face haunted. "Who could have?" She shook it off a moment later, leaning to press her forehead to Arcee's and reaching for Acree's other hand. If Arcee had been any less familiar with Greenlight's touch, she didn't think she'd have noticed the tremble. "But we're here now, one way or another. And soon," she tipped her head, and Arcee's with her, towards the platform at the base of the Pyramid, "she'll be here too." In a passable imitation of Proxima, she added, "'It always seems too soon until you've met them-- that's when you realize you couldn't have known them soon enough.'"
Arcee managed a dry huff of a laugh. "I've read the book, Greenlight." She shifted their grip so that she could hide her own tremors between Greenlight's fingers. "Which means I also read the part that says no plan survives first contact with the-- with your new ward." She nuzzled Greenlight and drew back to look at the stage. Orion Pax had raised his hands for attention so that he could begin his speech. It wouldn't be long now for their cue. "I don't understand how you're so calm."
She looked back in time to see Greenlight startle, as if nervousness hadn't occurred to her. "Well, I suppose it's because you're the newly assigned mentor here, not me-- I'm just here for moral support."
"What." Another laugh, this one higher than the last, found its way out of Arcee's vocalizer. "Greenlight, you're going to be as much of a mentor as I am."
The light of Greenlight's optics went pale and when she squeezed Arcee's hands again, she didn't seem to be offering comfort so much as asking for it. "I-- I suppose I didn't think about it that way--"
"We talked about this before I even applied."
"Yes, we-- but I just-- it--" Greenlight reset her vocalizer with an audible click and looked towards the still sealed door of the Pyramid with an almost desperate air. "It completely slipped my mind, I think. Like the memory file got buried under the-- all the excitement. You were the one whose application was selected, you were the one who got the call--"
"As if who I had beside me as a co-mentor didn't make any difference to my being accepted," said Arcee. She could feel a smile growing now as her spark danced in her chamber, spreading warmth throughout her frame. Greenlight's expression seemed to dance too; Arcee watched with no small fascination as Greenlight sped through what she suspected was every emotion she herself had felt since she'd been notified of her assignment.
Not for the first time in the last two kilocycles-- or even the last cycle, come to that-- Arcee found herself falling in love with her all over again.
"I'm going to be a mentor," Greenlight said as if in a daze. She turned that desperate look back on Arcee now. "Arcee, I'm about to be a mentor."
Arcee laughed, leaning back in to press their foreheads together again. A thought about the timing tickled her processor but she pushed it away, cast the light of the occasion against the shadow of the reason for it. Her new ward-- their new ward-- deserved a better welcome than that. She said, "We're about to be mentors."
Greenlight's expression smoothed back into a smile of her own, though her trembling was rather more obvious. "Together."
"As always," said Arcee, expression softening. She tugged on their joined hands and then shook them loose so that she could hold Greenlight close with a grip on her shoulders instead.
Hands falling to Arcee's waist, Greenlight nuzzled along Arcee's jaw to her audial and added, "As we were meant to be."
For a moment, they might as well have been the only two living beings on the planet. Then Orion Pax, booming and warm, announced them-- announced Arcee, at any rate, which was as good as announcing them both.
With a parting brush of lips, they separated and Arcee saw all of her own feelings, from her fear to her wonder, reflected in Greenlight's face. They joined hands again, intertwined fingers squeezing tight. Their plating sang as excitement made it shudder in rippling waves against their protoforms.
"That's us," Arcee said, laughing at herself as she did.
Grinning, Greenlight nudged her shoulder against Arcee's, urging her towards the stage. "Then let's go," she said. "Remember what Proxima says--"
"We can't meet her soon enough," said Arcee. She shook herself sharply and strode forward, tugging Greenlight along-- not that she needed to be tugged, really. Not once she saw-- and Arcee knew from her grip the minute she saw-- a lone little figure silhouetted by the light pouring now from the Pyramid doors. "Ready or not."
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iamvector · 1 year
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Which Icons Are Easier to Identify Quickly: Solid or Outline?
Icons are now an essential component of every website or application’s user interface (UI) design. The use of icons can be used to improve the visual appeal of any mobile app or website while also clearly communicating to users the essence and purpose of any given product or action. The primary goal of using an icon on a website or mobile application is to direct users to the appropriate location. Because of this, UI designers carefully consider both the overall feel that each icon conveys as well as its design and appearance. For example, every web designer must take the user experience into account when deciding whether to use solid or outline icons.
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Functions of icons:
Regarding the usefulness of solid or outline icons, web designers may have varying opinions. Since empty icons are created of outlines instead of solid colors, many web designers think they are more difficult to recognize. But it’s also true that outline icons give users a sense of comfort. Therefore, it is crucial to take both the icons’ purposes and appearance into account. Whether an icon is correctly recognizable or not also depends on its form, color, and functions.
The text and icons work together to communicate a message. When Free Vector icons from a list are removed, it is difficult to tell what data is still present. Users may find it difficult to concentrate on the options offered on a line if there are no icons present, which may even lead to visual confusion.
Characteristic Cues:
Users recognize icons by using characteristic cues. The icon loses its ability to be recognized if distinguishing cues are obscured or absent. An example of a characteristic cue is the tail of a remark bubble icon. It’s just a circle without it, that’s all. A lock icon’s identifying feature is its keyhole. It makes the icon appear more like a bag without it. A cog icon’s defining feature is its set of teeth. It appears to be a doughnut in its absence.
Over a third of all failures involved the lock icon, which was used in the study but did not have a keyhole. Without it, the icon would resemble a bag, purse, or even a pot, so the keyhole is a crucial characteristic cue. Users rely on these characteristic cues to recognize icons. When using icons, make sure they include all of the distinguishing features that users require to identify them. Consider adding extra characterizing cues to an icon if it could be mistaken for another object.
When Outline Icons Perform Quicker:
The cues must also be relevant or simple to notice in addition to having characteristic cues. In outline styles rather than solid styles, certain icons’ characteristic cues can occasionally stand out more. According to the study, the comment bubble, trash can, and key icons were the three that people could recognize more quickly in outline style. On the outside edges of the shape, these icons have obliquely visible identifying cues.
Use an outline style when a shape’s edges include a modest distinctive signal for an icon. As a result, cues become more noticeable and are recognized more quickly. It’s essential to follow a recognizable style while selecting all free vector icons. Try to pick a group of icons with conspicuous characteristic signals with stronger edges that point outward rather than combining solid and outline styles.
When Solid Icons Perform Quicker:
Most icons are representations of actual, tangible items. These things are substantial however, they just appear to be silhouetted. Icons being seen as outlines is not a true picture of how most people view things. It is easier to distinguish solid icons because of this. The users may still identify outline icons in spite of this. But if the shape outlines of the icon are too close together, it will take them more time to do so.
The thumb, scissors, phone, and tools icons were considered to be easier to distinguish in a clear manner by the study’s participants. This is due to the fact that all of these icons’ outline styles have a small inner separation on their cues, which causes visual noise.
When Icon Style Makes No Difference:
The study discovered icons that could be easily identified in either style. For example, the recognition times for the flag, shopping cart, and star icons were all comparable. This proves that the outline design of these icons didn’t impede user performance. The reason is because of their broad inner spacing, which lowers visual noise. The more noise that is produced by the inner space, which hinders identification, the narrower it is.
Style of Icon for Button Selection:
It’s usual practice to emphasize the active button on a tab bar with a solid icon, while the remaining buttons stay in outline form. However, this design approach is regressive and should be reversed. Users want faster identification times for alternatives they haven’t yet found, not for those they have already chosen.
The active button doesn’t need to have a solid icon. It matters more than the inactive buttons have sturdy icons. Instead of using a solid icon, highlight the active button by using an outline icon. It provides a more obvious style and color change that highlights the chosen button.
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lemonjoonah · 3 years
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Company I Work For: Even though you are well qualified for the position and desperately want the hours, pay raise, and benefits, we have decided not to fill the role at this time...
Me: *heads home and immediately starts to apply to more jobs* Unless I’m a mistress for the sexiest man alive, 15 hours a week on that wage is not worth being fucked around for.   
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fluffys-nightmare · 2 years
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Singing in the Shower
It first started on Kamino.
When the clone troopers were still blueback cadets, and only a few years past decanting, the Kaminiise had deemed them old enough to care for their personal hygiene on their own and introduced them to communal freshers. And of course, because privacy and modesty were not concepts judged necessary in their product (and they all had the same body anyways), the showers were more a long room with shower heads in the ceiling and drains in the floor than anything else. No stalls, just a few benches near the door to put their clean clothes, soap racks, and glorified sprinklers. A platoon’s worth of shower heads, meaning 10 squads were able to (and expected to) fit, shower, dress, and get out in 15 minutes, just in time for the next ones to arrive. A perfectly timed machine devised by the Kaminiise, efficient and cold.
And because most of everyone who has ever been naked, rubbing soap into their hair and surrounded by others doing exactly the same, got eventually bored and let their mind wander (and there is a certain feeling of safety to being in the shower), some vod’ike started humming nonsensically while scrubbing their shebs pretty early on.
At that age and in their current living conditions, their repertoire of songs was understandably small. That didn’t stop cadets from sneaking around and ending up overhearing their trainers, in a rare festive mood, chant a few songs and hymns from home over a bottle of tihaar.
And of course, the songs were instantly memorized and spread through shower-time to the whole GAR in a matter of weeks.
Not to mention that the fresher’s acoustics and propensity of the other vode to sing along almost always resulted in 50 prepubescent voices screaming “Vode An!” loud enough to be heard from the next floor over (which was very confusing and then very funny to the trainers who lived on that floor, including or not Jango, when they found out).
All in all, shower-time was deemed as singing time for the entirety of the clones cadethood. It was a great bonding exercise, good for lung training, and the goofy naked dancing factor was far from insignificant.
Years later, on board their Star Destroyers, it was a habit the vode kept. Singing remembrances, inventing battle marches based on past campaigns, or increasingly filthy drinking songs, all in the safety of the fresher where none of the natborns was going to barge in. And when two or more companies met up, they would exchange and mingle (read mangle) songs until both sets were memorized, a tiny piece of the culture they had been denied hoarded, concealed and expanded upon with pure spite and stubbornness. 
Everything breaks eventually. It even happens sooner if you have been using it repeatedly or in inappropriate ways. For example, clogging the shower with multiple applications of the grime, blood, muck and duracrete dust one might encounter on an active battlefield. The Vode wore armor day-in day-out, and cleaned it religiously. And scrubbing the communal freshers was a much beloved punishment for the CC officers to assign to the more mischievous vode. Their Jetiise on the other hand, having been raised in-temple with droids doing most of the cleaning, or sometimes just plain too exhausted at the end of the day for anything other than a shower and collapsing on their bunk, were less so inclined. So when it happened, it happened to the Jedi.
And upon realizing their shower was broken, they collectively shrugged, took a bundle of their necessities and went looking for the vode’s communal freshers.
Cue gobsmacked Jedi, surrounded by 50 or so naked Vode, dripping water, soap in their hair, bathed in steam, and singing their little Mando hearts out in military-perfect rhythm. With their CO probably leading the choir by singing the loudest.
I think most would have turned bright red (or species-equivalent), stepped out of the room to breathe through their heart-attack and waited awkwardly until the showers were emptied. The bravest might have soldiered on, blushing fiercely and kept their eyes resolutely on the floor. (Obi-Wan Kenobi would definitely have joined the Vode and shamelessly sung along).
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parkersbliss · 3 years
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Part of The Crows
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pairing: the crows x reader (all platonic)
warnings: shadow & bone spoilers? cursing?
wc; 800 ish
synopsis: the life of a crow trying to kidnap the sun summoner is not easy
a/n; this was fun to write will probably do more if anyone likes it :D
Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List
first things first
how did you become a part of this?
well..
lets just say you were an assassin
like the best one in ketterdam
and assigned to kill mr. brekker himself
you have full confidence that you can
but when you sneak into his office
he’s just standing there, leaning on his cane
“whatever he’s paying you, I’ll double it.”
“what?”
“join my crew.”
“you do understand I’m here to kill you, right?”
kaz shrugs, sitting on his desk
“I’ll double it.”
you were never going to say no
no one says no to kaz brekker
“yes, okay.”
“good. first assignment, go kill your old boss.”
and now you’re kaz’s personal assassin
you met jesper the next day
the first thing you do is fawn over his gun tricks
and he is more than happy to show off
“someone here finally appreciates me.”
kaz rolled his eyes
“is he always like that?”
jesper shakes his head. “he’s worse.”
then, you met inej
and as soon as kaz lead you to meet her, it was awkward
not awkward for them
but for you as you stood there and watched them just look at each other
there was something there
you coughed
“right. this is inej.”
you two instantly became best friends
you loved going places with her
more specifically, missions
she did the spying, you did the killing
and of course, we come to the big reveal
“one million Kruge?”
“to cross the fold?”
“money isn’t anything if we’re dEAD”
kaz shuts both you & jesper up with one look
“I have a plan.”
“do you now? just a reminder cant exaclty just walk through it.”
sometimes kaz wishes you came with a “very sarcastic” warning
obviously you guys take the job
and spend the entire fucking night trying to find a way across the fold
that’s eight hours of sleep you wasted with kaz of all people
running around ketterdam
which turns from let’s find a way across the fold to heartrender
and then you find the heartrender
take her to dreesen
“criminals.”
you resist the urge not to laugh
was it THAT obvious?
“mr. brekker, no business man worth his salt hires his first applicant.”
*cue threat from kaz and jesper showing off his gun*
“you wouldn’t.”
“no business worth his salt would bargain for what he could take.”
you cross your arms, smirking
oh it felt good to be the ones in charge
“two weeks ago he crossed through the fold on foot.”
your eyes bug out of your head at that
and now you’re supposed to kidnap the sun summoner?
you, jesper & kaz share the same look of “utter bullshit”
“her name is alina starkov”
BANG
milana screams
no one else flinches
“you have until sunrise.”
oh great, another late night expedition
“he doesn’t have a way across the fold, you guys know that.”
you shrug, “it’s kaz.”
“just take the bet,” jesper whines
inej takes a shot
“he’s obsessed with taking down pekka rollins.”
“well of course he’s obsessed with taken down the guy who’s paid off stadwatch to get away with murder.”
“It’s more than that. I’ve seen the way kaz looks when he says his name. He wants revenge.”
you raise a brow at jesper, you thought kaz might’ve told her already
then inej is being summoned
“you want company?”
“No.”
“I meant to-,”
“Just shut up jesper,” you said, patting him on the back
then in strolls mr. brekker himself
you don’t comment on the bruise forming on his face
“you all right, boss?”
kaz takes a shot, one that was YOURS
but you don’t say anything
“no. we’ve been wanted off the job.”
“by who?”
“who do you think?”
“did he recognize you?”
“if he did, I’d be dead.”
kaz checks his watch, “five hours till sunrise.”
“we’re off the job tho, right?”
god, that boy is so stupid
“never make a decision out of fear jesper, only out of spite.”
“well, greed always worked for me.”
“I prefer for the fun of it. or you know, sweet revenge.”
“you just like showing off your skills.”
“so do you.”
silence then “both of you, leave.”
you roll your eyes, nudging jesper
“lets go before kaz has both our heads on spikes.”
anyway
you’re functioning on no sleep running around ketterdam
and then inej asks jesper to kill someone for him
and then kaz finds a lead
and now you’re playing distraction with jesper as charming as ever
you’re so lucky you found the conductor
only after inej almost killed him
I mean seriously
“Don’t,” Kaz said
and then there’s a knife like inches from your head
“I’ll need 20 pounds of alabaster coal, a pack of majdaloun jurda and uh… a goat”
you begged to go get the goat
I mean literally begged
“kaz, pLEASE PLEASE PLEASE”
“(Y/N)…”
“Kaz.”
“Mate just let her go get the goat.”
“fine-”
“YES”
“You’re with me.”
“Oh for fu-”
anyway you get the goat
kaz grips his cane and looks at you with raised eyebrows
you’re just like clutching this little goat
with all the love in the world in your eyes
and kaz cannot understand WHY
but that’s kaz
then of course you see the conductor making deals he shouldn’t
“kaz you have your scheming face.”
“I’m not-”
“I don’t like that face.”
“For the record, you don’t like any of my faces.”
“I dislike this one the most.”
if kaz could, he would punch you
“yOU GAMBLED?”
addiction is real
jesper is a perfect example of this
“ITS FINE”
“THERE ARE PEOPLE CHASING YOU”
“THATS NOTHING NEW”
“BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP AND GET IN”
land mine go boom
“please tell me you have 20 pounds of coal?”
“so slight snag in the plan…”
“we know you gambled it,” kaz deadpanned.
“I lost a little bit of money”
kaz gives him the look
“I lost all of the money, BUT I managed to steal 20 pounds of alabaster coal”
“this is sixteen”
“SIXTEEN pounds of alabaster coal”
“can we do it in sixteen?”
“never been done before.”
cue the dirty looks from everyone at jesper
you sit across from inej next to kaz
and then the tracks aren’t connected
mass panic, mostly from jesper
arker explains that it’s all fine as long as the volcra don’t attack
spoiler alert, they do
and one gets stuck on a spike
it just goes downhill from there
the coal is gone
“tHiS iS hOw wE dIE”
“jesper, gRAB THE GOAT”
“I’m not throwing out the goat”
“GRAB THE DAMN GOAT ITS NOT BAIT ITS FOR YOU”
inej grabs her knife and starts praying
“HUG THE GOAT AND SHUT THE HELL UP”
and then arker casually says you’ll definitely die with the volcra weight
BUT JESPER SHOOTS THEM ALL
so now everything is fine
then a volcra rips open the top
and now arker is screaming
Inej is praying
jesper might as well be aLMOST crying
kaz looks unfazed
and you’re
well you
you’re screaming AT kaz
“kAZ BREKKER I WILL HAUNT YOU IN THE AFTER LIFE”
“THIS WAS THE STUPIDEST IDEA EVER”
“HOW ARE YOU SO CALM?? DO YOU REALIZE WE ARE GOING TO DIE”
you don’t die
jesper shoots it
you lived
for now
you get off the train
brush yourself off, pretend like nothing happened
kaz coughs looking at you
“my promise stands true, by the way”
“is that so?”
“I will haunt you if I die”
“I have no doubt”
“asshole”
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slashbitch2 · 3 years
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Extra Complications
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never expected to be crushing on an animated character but here we are
Next Chapter
It was sneaky. Perhaps cheating by some standards. But from your perspective, it was a damn good plan.
Ironically you'd seen the advertisement for the Alchemax internship right after being flung into a wall by the very same woman who'd likely approved the broadcast. Olivia Octavius, or Doc Ock as you ought to refer to her in costume. Though she'd given you little time to read up on 'how to apply', as moments later a car was thrown in your direction, which was very inconsiderate of her, but was also all the persuasion you needed.
At this point, you'd be willing to do anything if it contributed to thwarting her, surely, very evil plan. Of course you admired the woman for her general genius and eccentricity, but the constant unprovoked conflict was becoming tiresome. It felt as if she were trying to determine how much of a threat you posed, whereas, you liked to think your legacy as 'that Spider-Person who sometimes saves the day' was all the evidence necessary.
Honestly, you weren't certain as to what exactly her, no doubt, villainous plan entailed besides patrolling the streets in green swimming goggles and black spandex with ridiculous plastic tubes jutting out of her back. In fact, it was ridiculous that no one had made any attempt to stop her yet. Unlike your identity, kept secret by a more modest spandex suit, hers was public knowledge.
Sometimes, it seemed as though you were the enemy here.
Which is precisely why infiltrating her team of scientists was more than appropriate. You were about to single handily take down an international threat, one hidden in plain sight, but left untouched due to the company's vast money, leverage and prestige.
Someday the city would thank you for your many sacrifices. Specifically for voluntarily working another job without pay. Y/N Y/L/N, broke intern by day, friendly neighbourhood Spider-Person by night.
"Excuse me?" A voice called from the left, your vision of them obstructed by an inconveniently placed potted plant. "Are you the new intern?" The person stepped closer, briefly glancing up at you, then back down at a sheet of paper. "Y/N Y/L/N?" The woman's timid appearance hardly screamed villainous scientist, but then again, looks can be deceiving.
"Yes, that's me." You stood, reaching out to shake her hand.
She sighed in relief, shaking your hand a tad too enthusiastically. "Lovely to meet you. I'm Marie and I'll be getting you settled in for the first few days."
A spark of disappointment flashed across your mind. Olivia hadn't been there for your interview, nor had any sway in your hiring, and now she wasn't even the person greeting you on your first day. Although you had no right to be, you felt rather offended by the lack of challenge she was providing. It was almost too easy.
---
To be fair, Marie was the perfect candidate to give you a tour of the facility. She was kind and patient, but not condescending. She seldom spoke beyond what was required of her, unless you asked something work related, when her lengthy response would affirm her status as an epicure of scientific knowledge. By midday, you'd decided she was someone to befriend, and subsequently accepted her invitation to have lunch together.
You were also hoping that the team would eat lunch as a group, but alas, more disappointment. Instead, you spent the break sitting in an awkward silence with Marie, who seemed to loose basic communication skills when presented with food. In spite of her lack of engagement, you still took the opportunity to try and ascertain information about the project you'd be working on, though each time she expertly diverted the interrogation, or ignored your question entirely.
Who knew working for an evil, secretive corporation would be so boring?
It was a test of patience to be sitting in the same building as Olivia Octavius, while forced to shadow an incredibly kind, but slow eating woman. Realistically, you knew there'd be plenty of time to investigate, though you were reluctant to end the day without any progress. So, while Marie was still distracted by her lunch, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom.
She dismissively approved with a wave of her hand, allowing you to slip away from the dining hall. You vaguely remembered the location of Olivia's office as being on the top floor, indicated by Marie's imprecise pointing. She'd explained that very few had clearance to get in, but you'd already thought of a way to get passed the security.
Who aside from the highest ranking scientists had access to every room? Janitors, of course. Because, for some reason, cleanliness was more important than security.
It didn't take long to locate a cleaner, or much effort to pickpocket the security card. To be on the safe side, you even had an excuse ready: that the man had dropped it, that you were simply looking for him to return it. And if Olivia caught you in her office, well, she wouldn't (Spider-Senses and all). Again, it was almost too easy.
There was a minatory silence as you walked along the final corridor toward her office. Part of you felt as though this was some kind of elaborate trap, the repeated phrase 'too easy' coming to mind as you reached the door. Though the logical part of you must've known this was a fatuous suggestion, and took control.
With a final pause to confirm nobody was approaching, or was already waiting inside, you scanned the key card. The action was rewarded with a satisfactory beep, followed by the door sliding open so fast it appeared to have vanished.
The office was smaller than you anticipated. Or maybe it was the bareness of the room that caught you off guard. The woman was insane, yet her work area hardly reflected her deranged mental state. Everything was so perfectly neat that you began to wonder if you'd actually walked onto a movie set, or a photoshoot, which would've explained the strange ring lights hanging from the ceiling.
Upon reaching the centre of the room, you were struck by the realisation that you truthfully had no reason to be here. Even if the office had been as messy as you'd expected, it was unlikely that she'd leave her super evil plans lying around. Rather, It'd been some morbid curiosity that had lured you here. To see where The Doc Ock worked, where the alter ego was likely created. The reality was underwhelming to say the least.
Deciding that you'd spent enough time admiring an incredibly bland office, you exited back out into the empty corridor, nonchalantly throwing the security card behind you, certain someone would eventually return it. Then, as if right on cue, you sensed somebody approaching, soon followed by footsteps resonating from around the corner. With no way of avoiding them, you kept your head down with the intention of blending in.
Olivia Octavius rounded the corner, not sparing a glance up. She was frowning at a piece of paper, her full attention directed to it, blissfully unaware of your presence.
Instinctively, your entire body tensed at the sight of her lithe frame and mass of hair spilling out of its messy bun. Any other circumstance and you'd have fled by now, through a vent, out of the window, it didn't matter. Though you had to remind yourself that there was no reason to be afraid now. There was no possible way she could know your identity.
Nonetheless, as you passed her with less than a metre of space, you held your breath. She said nothing and you both kept walking in opposite directions.
It seemed the coast was clear. You released the breath you'd been holding and kept moving until. "Hey, wait a minute."
You froze, aching to ignore her and escape. Her voice was deep, more so than you were prepared for. While fighting, few words were exchanged, and even then they were unintelligible. Although, now was the worst time to be thinking about previous interactions, so with much difficulty, you cleared your mind. As far as anyone knew, including yourself, you were just the intern.
You ran a hand through your hair nervously, straightening out your lab coat and turning to face her. She was stood at the far end of the long white corridor, entirely unthreatening when compared to Doc Ock, who would've loomed over you menacingly.
Remembering the role you were meant to be playing, you choked out a response. "How can I be of assistance?"
"You're the new intern, right?"
"Yeah." You considered approaching to shake her hand, but the idea of awkwardly marching the length of the corridor to greet her was rather unappealing. "That's me." You settled for a polite smile and shoulder shrug instead.
She screwed up her face in consideration before crooking a finger. "Come with me."
Swallowing any concern, you nodded hesitantly. The prospect of returning to the office you'd broken into only moments ago had you dragging your feet.
She waited patiently until you were by her side to continue. "Don't worry." She scanned her key card. "I don't bite." Her tone was playful, her eyes kindly mocking.
"Good to know." You muttered, following her inside. You took a second to look around the room with mock curiosity, feeling her eyes trace your every move. Like a predator, eyeing up its prey, determining your weaknesses. Unlike the encounters with Doc Ock, it was uncertain who had the high ground here. Her gaze was putting you on edge, not dissimilar to how your character of 'the intern' would react.
"So..." She shuffled some papers around on the desk, finding what looked to be your application. "Ms. Y/L/N right?"
You confirmed with a nod, summoning the resolve to amble toward her desk.
"Take a seat." She gestured to the chair opposite, letting you sit before proceeding. "Tell me about yourself, Y/N."
You started to think of an adequate answer, but she interrupted a second later, contradicting her initial inquiry. "Are you okay with me calling you Y/N?" She leant her head on a closed fist, narrowing her eyes.
Although the question sounded considerate, you didn't feel the implied sincerity. Even if you wanted to say no, that didn't feel like a suitable response. "Sure."
Somehow, it felt like she was establishing dominance through the polite act, and combined with being under her scrutinising glare, the performance was working.
"Great." Suddenly, she leant back in her chair, all evidence of the hostile act disappearing instantaneously.
"What'd you want to know?" Mirroring her relaxed posture, you attempted to re-establish some control.
"Oh, anything." A flicker of something passed in her eyes, piqued interest possibly?
You began routinely rattling off some basic facts about yourself, nothing too specific or personal. Facts that would answer any follow up questions she might have, and yet said nothing about you. Surprisingly, she seemed hooked on your every word. The thought crossed your mind that this might be the real interview, that everything else up to this point had been a sham. But you settled on a more unsettling justification. That she was committing everything you said to memory.
Coming to the end of the informative monologue, you decided to take a risk. "Do I get to ask a question?" You raised an eyebrow challengingly.
"Inquisitive. I like that." She stated, folding her arms on the desk. "Go ahead."
You decided to see how far you could push your luck. "Tell me about yourself." You smugly repeated her vague first query. It was the Doctor's turn to come up with an answer to the ambiguous demand.
She scoffed, realising your plan to make her struggle. "Touché. But I'm rather busy, so how about you pick a more specific question."
Narrowing it down, there was only one thing you wanted to ask. "Can I see the-" You waved your arms around, imitating tentacles. "the suit?"
She chuckled, slowly standing. Judging from her lack of surprise, this was likely a request she'd heard many times.
First, she removed her glasses. Then slipped out of her lab coat. Next to go was the shirt, which she pulled over her head while maintaining eye contact. You wanted to look away, out of respect, yet you didn't. Without the shirt, you noticed she was already wearing the suit underneath and had the harness strapped to her back, confirming your suspicion that she always had access to the weapon. As she was stepping out of her trousers, the arms (tentacles?) inflated, and within moments were threateningly extending to their full potential.
She smiled proudly, enjoying your stunned expression. "As good as you expected?"
"Better." Unable to resist any longer, you stood to investigate the suit in further detail. You'd never seen it stationary, or had the opportunity to try and gauge the details of how it worked. Although you argued this would be beneficial for your next fight, in reality you just wanted to admire the contraption. You circled round, marvelling at the simplicity of the design. It was convenient, yet elegant. "It's beautiful."
Coming to a stop in front of Olivia, she had an unreadable expression. A mix of emotions, most prominently confusion. To your delight, a faint blush coloured her cheeks. Whatever unspoken game you'd been playing, you were winning, or were until she said. "How'd you like to intern for me?"
You quickly recovered. "I already do."
"No." She sighed. "I mean personally. As my assistant? You'd get your own desk, an almost guaranteed job at the end of it and so much more experience than you'd bargained for." She leant forward, a little too close for comfort. There was an unhinged look in her eyes more reminiscent of Doc Ock that both convinced and deterred you. "So what'd you say?"
She genuinely wanted you to work with her.
This hadn't been part of the plan. You'd expected to spend no longer than a few months working at Alchemax. To uncover their evil scheme, figure out how to stop it and hopefully take down the company. An optimistic plan, sure, but one you'd been assured you'd stick to. Although, the opportunity to work closely with Olivia Octavian, with the Doc Ock, was too good to pass on. Not to mention, infinitely more interesting.
You grinned, embracing the insanity that your answer would incur. "I'd love to."
She clapped her hands together. "Great!" Then offered her hand for you to shake formally. "I'll sort out the paperwork and details this evening, but right now if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to."
She left before you had the chance to say anything else, still in her suit, which left you confused for the following half hour. You finally understood upon catching a glimpse of a news alert on your phone.
Doc Ock Seizes Bank, Has Taken Hostages!
You sighed. Today was going to be a long day, and things were only going to get more complicated.
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queer-crusader · 3 years
Text
Okay update on my life since it seems talking about it doesn’t trigger another panic attack/breakdown:
So i graduated in july right
And with the end of uni, my student funding ends too
So i look for a job bc i cannot sustain myself otherwise
Except the economy is shit, because the UK is handling the pandemic almost worse than any other country in the world (we love that)
Knowing i’ll need some financial support to tie me over, i apply to universal credit
I also know my roommate, who i’ve lived with for 5 years, is moving out in october, and i will need to find someone to replace her or i end up paying £1000/month for living in this flat, which i don’t have of course
Job search becomes more frantic and exhausting and stressful
Also my dad started throwing up at some point and is eating less and is very specific about not upsetting his stomach. This is strange because he is known for his iron stomach and has not thrown up in years. I know my family history, i have my suspicions, but the doctor says it could be an ulcer. It could be fine, but my brain jumps to the worst-case scenario, because why wouldn’t it? More stress
Universal credit gets back to me - application denied
I think, hey, the category they filed me under seems wrong, i should be a habitual resident, not an EEA jobseeker, because i’ve lived here 6 years now. So i apply for an appeal, explaining the situation
Few weeks later, i receive a letter. Appeal rejected. It goes into detail how some rule that was set up in 2016 (Brexit year) lists all the reasons why just living here for 6 years, building up contacts, creating a future, feeling at home, being allowed to vote for Scottish parliament elections, is not good enough. Every sentence is like a punch in the gut. The letter boils down to fancy government words that translate to “you’re a freeloading immigrant who, according to our records, might as well be living in Fiji, and we’re giving you fuck all. Good luck surviving”
Full-blown breakdown ensues, because I’ve been fearing this ever since i arrived but was told by EVERYONE that that fear is ridiculous. I fit in, i belong, i sound English, i’m fluent, i’m passionate and well-educated about local politics, etc. I knew it wouldn’t be good enough. Race doesn’t matter; I’m European, and for the UK government, that’s good enough.
Anyway, cue the next day, and my mum phones me with news
My dad is in hospital. Turns out i was right - bowel cancer. He’s going into emergency surgery the very next day to get a tumour removed
I don’t sleep that night, for obvious reasons
Dad comes out of surgery fine, they got the whole thing, took some extra tests to see if it spread but it’s looking good so far. Meanwhile i have images of my dad, skinny as hell and with a tube up his nose seared into my brain
I fly home two days later to be with my family, who obviously need me
My dad is cleared of cancer, which is AWESOME, but we do learn that if the doctors had waited a couple days longer he could have had a perforated bowel. My mum is furious with the GP who underestimated the case
I get in touch with my landlady, saying “hey, this is my life right now, i am not in a position to search for a roommate replacement. Here’s the pics we took of the flat, can you look yourself? Also, if i don’t find a job by the end of the month, I may have to move out as well due to financial struggles, so keep in mind there’s a chance you’re going to have to look for two new tenants”
Landlady’s reply: “oh i can’t afford for the flat to be empty so i’m gonna sell it now”
So now i don’t even have an option of keeping the flat. I’ll have to move out, job or not. I can’t afford a new flat, and i can’t look for one bc a) pandemic and b) im in another country looking after my recovering dad (who is still losing weight btw, 15kg or 30-something lbs or 2.5 stone in a month, it’s horrible to see but at least he’s feeling a little better each day)
If i lose my flat, i may not be able to get a UK job. If i don’t get a UK job, chances are, i can not return to Scotland
6 years of living here, of building friendships, contacts and connections, skills for a career (which is also down the drain - theatre, an industry that is currently being killed by a lovely combo of the UK govt and the pandemic), a home, a love for the county, an intimate knowledge of the workings here, the language, the system, the stories, the history, i almost know the system here better than the Dutch one - my entire adult life. I may lose.
There is a chance i’ll be able to cling on, and god im fighting for it with the few spoons i have after all this stress, but the chance of me losing everything is equally plausible.
I have now flown back to Scotland where I put myself in self-isolation
In a week, my roommate will have moved out and i have 10 or so days left stuck in this place all by myself
I will spend this time packing up all my belongings, choosing what to take back to my parents’ place with me and what to put into storage, which i will pay for with my remaining savings and some financial support from the parents (they can’t afford much tho, my mum is unemployed and on benefits and my dad is a freelancer recovering from fucking surgery. I have no idea what their financial situation is right now, but apparently they’re okay-ish with their savings. Still, stress, and i don’t wanna burden them even more)
Then there’s the hope that the lockdown won’t have regressed back to that point where every plane is cancelled, and i’m stuck in this country without a place to call my home. (Don’t worry, i won’t end up on the street if this happens, I have friends willing to shelter me until i can fly home if they have to)
And once i’ve left, it’s only a question of when, and more promenently if, I’ll be able to return here, to Scotland.
I have never been this stressed, and i have never been this terrified. I am angry all the time (yes you can read that in Zuko’s voice lmao), I’m exhausted, and i’m fuelled by spite against prime minister Blow-Job and sheer stubbornness in refusing to feel like shit, because i just can’t be bothered with that. I just about manage to get through the day, to get up at a reasonable time, to feed myself, to shower, to exercise (because if i don’t, my wonky hip will give me hell and i’ll be in agony on top of my depression and anxiety. We love functioning bodies). But I’ll be okay. I’m trying to find solutions for everything, one step at a time. I’m taking care of myself the best i can. And if you wonder where my writing updates are, or my shitposts, or my ridiculously excited tags, then firstly, thank you for noticing ohmygod i love you, and secondly, know that i’ll be back. If God exists, know im kicking their ass. Fuck all this bullshit, my life is a mess but i REFUSE to let it stop me in my tracks. I’m too powerful, i am Brian David Gilbert’s interpretation of Sonic (either a god or can kill god and it doesn’t matter which). I’m gonna keep on truckin.
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sera-cb · 3 years
Text
Present Mental Process
Pinkie Pie:
Not great at social cues.
Extremely into basically exactly one thing at any given time.
Has very big emotions with zero exceptions, with said emotions having a massive and readily apparent influence on her overall level of energy.
When said emotions sway from a perceived “default” it is almost always the direct result of external factors and a seeming inability to control how much effect they have on her.
Surprisingly easy to overwhelm.
Frequently written off as “creepy” or similar such things by certain parties that don’t understand her (more so the fandom than anyone in-canon but still of note to me)
I might be missing some things here, but it’s a thought process that’s been stewing for days now. What exactly is up with Pinkie? There’s evidence here that we could argue something or other, for certain.
The problems I’m having coming to a conclusion are really, really simple though:
ADHD feels very stereotypical and as such makes me worry it would be read as offensive and kneejerk because in simplified terms Pinkie is “the hyper one.”
I have Autism and my first thought upon seeing any list of applicable symptoms is always “huh I wonder if that’s Autism” so I feel incredibly biased here.
These two things are comorbid apparently so like... can it be both?? Is it applicable that it would be both??
Or maybe it’s neither and I need to reconsider things. I am not a psychologist and do not want to paint the wrong image when I implement things into something like Lonely Hooves, a position that led to me twiddling my thumbs for years on deciding what was definitively wrong with Ed and leaning towards keeping it open to interpretation until my SO who has depression went “yeah no that is pretty much 100% depression right there.”
Effectively, I want Lonely Hooves to be a source of positive representation for groups of people who are frequently portrayed as the brunt of jokes or, worse, the bad guys. It’s not that humor can’t be had around these characters or even at their expense, but rather that there needs to be a level of depth an nuance and personality to them beyond that.
And boy, if there’s any character I feel like MLP did dirty over it’s run, it’s Pinkamena Diane Pie. I believe it was season 3 where you could really feel the show changing hands and the writers having no idea what to do with her anymore besides have her pop in to shout non-sequiturs and be the weird one, and the only real exceptions I felt were the episodes that focused entirely on her. Consequently, I really want to do right by the party horse in the long run. (A frankly worrying amount of my decisions with Lonely Hooves come about by wanting to spite FiM’s writers in both their stated and apparent moments of “having no more ideas.”)
I don’t want it to be subtext, either. I want it to be out there in the open and portrayed as not a bad thing.  I want to be the anti-Cupcakes; just because you’re a bit weird or different doesn’t mean you’re some sort of basement serial killer. I’d argue that’s outright harmful in the grand scheme of things. I want someone to be able to see Pinkie, see this all talked about, and feel happy when they think “holy shit, that’s me!”
So I really don’t want to say she has the wrong thing, here. I’m not trying to change the character, either; a primary goal setting out was to make a story that adhered to MLP’s worlds and themes and established roles as best I could while pulling in more adult subject matter and problems and discussions that maybe are a bit too much for a target audience that’s still getting the whole “words” thing down pat. It’s still Pinkie, it’s still the bouncy goofball equine, but now with some of the hidden layers laid bare and explored for an audience that I’m finding is split between “would get this” and “needs to be expressly told that medication is not the devil.” (Which is all the more reason to worry about getting it right, I guess!)
I am... extremely open to input on this one.
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thesignature · 3 years
Text
Sunset @ Olie’s Cafe
On a sunny Saturday I decided to take a short road trip to another district, BELAIT just to kick off my weekend. I have decided to give a try to one of the current trending place especially for KETO meals. I was told that hidden amidst the sleepy Seria town lies a charming culinary gem with an invitingly cozy and warm atmosphere called Olie’s cafe. To be honest, I am not that familiar with neither Seria nor Belait.
With Waze application assisting my trip to KB, I stayed closely to the instruction given by the lady in the app (๑>ᴗ<๑).
As we reached Seria Town, with the unfamiliar road, it was nerve wrecking.
At first I lost my way with the address given in their instagram as I don't know which building is which
୧| ͡ᵔ ﹏ ͡ᵔ |୨
I approached a stranger asking for direction to Olie’s Cafe, unfortunately she is also unsure. However, another kind and friendly stranger overheard us asking for direction. He then approached us to make sure that he heard it right. He then told us its just just across the road.
Located in a clean looking alley of Seria Town, Olie’s Cafe is situated on the 1st floor. As you walk passed, you will see a number of cafe at the ground floor. Olie’s Cafe is labelled with a simple hanging sign and chalk board listing some of their menu on one side and their opening hours on the other side.
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The moment I stepped inside, I was instantly captivated by the modern and calming shades of blue interior that takes its cue from the night sky and the aroma of freshly made espresso permeating the air. In contrast, opposite the calming blue shade of the feature wall as entering the cafe, the wall is coloured in a natural calm white with frames filled in with images of black an white coffee, enhancing the calm and balance of the atmosphere.
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In my opinion, this is a place to hang out whilst enjoying the ambience and at the same time indulge myself in some guilt free food and dessert ٩(●ᴗ●)۶
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Olie’s Cafe offered their Hearty Packed Meals of Pick N’ Mix where you can customized your meal according to your preference of main dish, base, sauce and sides. The price for this varies from BND8.00 - BND12.00. However, if you are to choose low carb/keto base such as caulirice (cauliflower rice) or caulimash (mashed cauliflower) there will be additional BND1.00 to your meal.
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If you decided to make it as a set meal that comes with healthy drinks or keto cake, there will be a discounted price on them.
I have decided to order 2 Hearty Pick N’ Mix meal
Meal 1:
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Main Dish: Salmon with Cream Cheese & Spinach
Fresh Steamed Salmon topped with tasty cream cheese and spinach slightly break the creamy texture adding a chewy texture on the topping. The tender salmon meat that melted in your mouth mixed well with the cream cheese and spinach.
Base: Caulimash
‘What is mashed potatoes?’
‘Did I just eat cauliflower?’
That thought just passed by my head. Hardly taste the cauliflower. Is there even cauliflower in this? It more like a little watery mixture of mash (but no potatoes) and the strong taste of the herb making it savoury but you can enjoy it as much as you want without feeling guilty. For the very first time I enjoy eating CAULIFLOWER. Kids will love cauliflower like they never did before if its cook in this way. I never like to eat Cauliflower as a kid (و ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و
Sides: Grilled Vegetables of the Day
The vegetables of the day were slices of eggplant and capsicum. The vegetables is carefully grilled with the taste of the herbs and healthy seasoning fully absorbed in it. From the taste, you can tell that they carefully control the grilling temperature so that they did not burn the vegetables which can leave a bruising burnt taste in the vegetables.
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Toppings: Homemade Cheese Sauce
One word: TASTY.
The homemade cheese taste as creamy as I could imagine but it did not leave any greasy after taste.
Set Meal: Keto Booster Vanilla with Collagen
Indescribable taste of vanilla, foamy and creamy texture. The non-existence of the feeling of guilty is a nice surprise ٩(θ‿θ)۶
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Meal 2:
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Main Dish: Low Carb “Buttermilk” Chicken
The buttermilk sauce: Creamy but light texture as compared to the typical buttermilk sauce. However the satisfaction you get from this low carb buttermilk sauce is not less than the typical ordinary buttermilk sauce complete with the taste of curry leaves aroma and the spiciness
Chicken: the chicken breast is super tender and they did not use flour for the crispy chicken in the normal buttermilk chicken. However, the essence of creamy sauce can nicely tasted as you take a bite.
Base: Caulirice
Initially I was quite nervous in tasting the caulirice as the phobia of the healthy taste of cauliflower. But I braved myself to try it and to my surprise, the non existence of cauliflower after taste makes me want to take another spoonful of the caulirice. All I can taste is just merely garlic and herbal taste with a hint of olive oil and seasoning, but it did not have greasy after taste
Sides: Grilled Vegetables of the Day
Topping: Homemade Cheese Sauce
Set Meal: Keto Sesame Charcoal Cheesecake
Super Moist
Topped with dark chocolate and healthy cream which has the taste of sesame. The part that I am most curious is the base of the cake. I’m pretty sure they used olive butter to bind the crust, but I’m not quite sure of the substitute of the digestive cookies that is usually used as cheese cake base. And because of this I might come back for further investigation.
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In addition to the above, I also tried one of the most popular cakes among customers is the Keto Burnt Cheesecake — a refreshing compliment after a hearty meal.
The best I ever tasted.
Knowing it’s a keto cheesecake, I did not have a high expectation on this cake. In spite of being a keto cheese cake, this classic keto burnt cheesecake has taken the first place in my burnt cheese cake list 🥳🥳. It can not be denied that the satisfaction you get is as much as or equivalent to the normal burnt cheese cake. But most importantly GUILT-FREE.
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Another additional order of mine which I was so curious at the same time excited is: Keto C8 Bulletproof Tea Tarik. (Yes, the tea tarik sound scary as M16 Rifle).
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However, it is not scary as it sound, because it is an extra foamy tea tarik I ever drink compared to the Mamak’s tea tarik. Not as creamy as the Mamak’s though. It has a very light texture as you drink it but it is not as creamy nevertheless you can still taste the milk in the tea. It is more like a fine and fancy tea tarik. As you take a slurp, you will tend to find the thick and mily texture of tea tarik to make sure its tea tarik. But you can’t disqualified this as tea tarik as it fulfilled the specification of tea tarik: Tea ✅ Milk ✅ Foam ✅ Tarik ✅ Hence, it is legit tea tarik.
In order to keep their food and beverages healthy and sugar-free as possible, Olie’s Cafe sweetened their drinks using Xylitol / Erythritol / Monkfruit / Stevia extract unless stated otherwise. But you can request if you preferred them to be sweetened by sugar.
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The food are really filling and I enjoyed each and every bites of them that I came out of the cafe, the skies was already dark. It was a nice dinner; complete with a relaxing ambience to end my Saturday and ready to chill on my Sunday.
Olie’s Cafe is located at the first floor of Unit 2, Lot 10, Jalan Sultan Omar Ali, Seria.
Opening Hours:
Mon-Sun (Except Fri): 10am-10pm Fri 10am-12pm, 2pm-8pm Last hot meal orders 1hour before closing
Much Love,
TheSignature
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ambitionsource · 4 years
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AMBITION Season 2 ♫ “World Uncertain” [ 2.09 ]
CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows) || S2 Tag || Official Page
SPRING CLEANING – The juniors are forced to confront the ramifications of their actions while navigating shaky ground. Valerie comes to New York to spend the break with Isadora, although she may be carrying deeper intentions. Winter melting into spring allows for the chance to begin again.
64 Minutes (17K words) || CONTENT WARNING: mentions of suicide. Take care of yourselves and read with discretion.
[ ← Got A Lotta Livin’ To Do ] [ S2 Synopsis ] [ Rarely Pure and Never Simple → ]
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EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY
The bustle and commute of a brand new work day in Manhattan echoes lightly from all around as a MALE OFFICER emerges from his cruiser. He strides a few feet onto the sidewalk, joining another FEMALE OFFICER standing on the curb.
She’s looking towards the side of the building on the corner, the male officer matching her stance. They don’t look stressed but rather confused -- and in a glimmer here and there, perhaps a bit impressed. Either way, it’s evident they aren’t sure what to make of their latest call.
Upon the brick wall of the establishment across from them, Maya’s emotionally spurred graffiti finally sees the light of day. It’s beautiful and jarring, bright and colorful and eye-catching, yet obviously attempting to convey something heavy. Something larger than life, overwhelming, difficult to capture in words as it is on the canvas of a building.
The word ENOUGH. Embellished and bold and impossible to miss.
The officers stand in front of it, small against its looming presence. As the school bell rings...
INT. AAA - CORY’S CLASSROOM - DAY
Students are transitioning for their next period, CORY MATTHEWS shouting last minute reminders at them as they shuffle out. He specifically mentions the impending spring holiday and urges students not to forget about their reading assignments.
Once the chaos has died down before the next wave of students files in, ISADORA DE LA CRUZ approaches Cory’s desk. He questions what he can do for her.
Isadora: You said that you were hoping someone could… Farkle.
Cory: … yes?
Isadora: [ clearing her throat ] His homework. You said you were wondering if someone could drop his assignments by his place during break. Since he’s coming back next week. Don’t want him falling behind and all that. So I figured I might as well.
Cory: You? You want to --
It’s obvious Isadora is the last person Cory was expecting to volunteer for such a job. But Isadora merely raises an eyebrow at him, so he quickly covers his surprise.
Cory: I just didn’t think you would be the one to -- but, sure. That would be wonderful, thank you, Isadora.
He shifts into gathering the proper materials, offhandedly relaying how much of their new book she should instruct him to read by the time they return. Isadora isn’t listening much, caught up in her own head. Perhaps Cory was a bit right to question her… why is she so intent on volunteering to help Farkle…
INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY
Who, speaking of, is making his grand return home. After about a month away at a rehabilitation facility, the doormen and wait staff warmly welcome him back as JENNIFER MINKUS leads the way back up to their penthouse accommodations. Handfuls of “welcome back, young Mister Minkus” are thrown in their direction, accompanied by relieved expressions or uncertain smiles as they get a good look at him.
And the reason is clear enough why. As they step back into the familiar entryway and Jennifer immediately starts fussing about getting him settled back in, FARKLE MINKUS takes his time. He drops his bag on the floor, taking a deep breath. And as we pan up from the floor to his face, one change is more prominent than any other.
His hair has been buzzed off. No more obsessive coiff. No more fastidious appearance. No more flyaway mess from pulling on it and running his hands through it too often to repair.
All that’s left is what’s underneath. Clean slate. Fresh start.
Tis the season of rebirth, after all.
Cue title sequence.
INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY
LUCAS JAMES FRIAR opens his locker, explaining the consequences of his little joy ride last episode after he and Dylan went to court to be sentenced. Whereas Dylan got off on a warning and a minor blemish on his record since he is a minor and merely “an accessory,” Lucas was assigned 70 glorious hours of court-ordered community service to complete.
Still, he’s well aware it could’ve been far worse, especially since he’s already 18 and not as protected by juvenile limitations. It helped that the owner of the car didn’t press charges as nothing was damaged, but he also has the sense that Jack did a lot of negotiating on his behalf.
When she responds, it’s revealed that he is sharing these developments with RILEY MATTHEWS. She’s leaning against the row of lockers next to his, listening intently. She claims that he could easily knock out those service hours during spring break.
Riley: Seventy hours, ten days of break. That’s seven hours a day, which you can easily manage. [ a beat ] In fact, I’ll tag along with you.
Lucas: You do not need to waste your spring break on me.
Riley: It’s not waste, believe me. I could use the excuse to get out of the house, especially with my mom in and out helping move my brother’s things. It’s…
She doesn’t finish the sentence, shaking her head instead. Lucas doesn’t push her, getting the gist anyway. She directs her focus back to him.
Riley: And you know, it’s the least I could do. That night with the --
Lucas, pointedly: Don’t let that be your reason. You don’t owe me anything.
It’s evident Riley disagrees. They hold each other’s gaze. Riley decides not to argue it, but is still determined to join him regardless. She says as such, Lucas shrugging and focusing back on gathering his things.
Lucas: Well, I can’t stop you from blowing your break if that’s what you’re intent on doing.
Riley: Sure can’t. [ with a grin ] Besides, it’ll be fun. I like charity work.
Lucas, deadpan: Oh, I know.
Har har. It takes Riley a moment to get his implications, scowling when she realizes. He can’t help but smile, melting away Riley’s frown in spite of herself. Their smiles linger as Lucas shuts his locker, coinciding with…
INT. AAA - LIBRARY - DAY
CHARLIE GARDNER hitting the spacebar on one of the school computers, deeply concentrated as he scours through the webpages he has open. From an offhand glance, it seems to be a bunch of program websites, an application form or two sprinkled in. Although he’s working fast, he seems pretty intent.
And, well, a bit frantic. A glimmer of that frazzled nature is back in his eyes, making the web search seem far more important than a simple research project.
He jumps when someone calls his name, glancing up only for a moment before swiftly closing all the tabs. CLARISSA CRUZ and HALEY FISHER approach, Haley playfully nudging him and looking over his shoulder to see what he’s working on. He says he was just finishing up, not offering any further explanation.
INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY
As they’re exiting the library, Clarissa asks Charlie if he wants to come to Chubbie’s. They’re doing a sort of kick off for spring break.
Haley: Drowning ourselves in high caloric content, that’s what we’re doing.
Clarissa: As is our right after the hell this semester has been so far.
Darn right, ladies! Charlie starts to respond, but his interest shifts to hesitation as he questions who else is going. They mention Yindra and Nigel, definitely Yogi, maybe Darbs? Although there are some unsure parties, Zay is not mentioned either way.
This seems to be what Charlie was looking for. With no mention of his boyfriend he happily agrees, telling them he’ll meet them there. Once they flutter off, however, his smile falters somewhat. He’s clearly not sure how he feels about anything at this point.
He starts down the hall alone, heading towards a week of freedom from it all.
INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY
ZAY BABINEAUX, meanwhile, is meeting one-on-one with HARPER BURGESS. She’s got a stack of pamphlets and flyers to pass onto him, all opportunities for enrichment programs or auditions he can go out for. She also places a folded paper on top, explaining that its a list of contacts she has in the industry that he could consider reaching out to for guidance.
Harper: You know how it is -- it’s all about who you know.
Zay: Yeah. These are really great, thank you. [ a beat ] Are you sure it’s okay for you to do this? This does seem a little bit like what some might call favoritism.
Harper: Don’t see how it could be favoritism when you’re the only person who has even bothered to ask.
Fair point. Harper reminds Zay that he is more than capable of stepping into the spotlight and making real strides. Going out for these opportunities, as he’s expressed as his intent, is just the first step. He just needs to maintain his laser focus.
Zay: Trust me, I expect I will have far less distraction than usual this break.
INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY
Which is exactly what he reiterates to Riley, stuffing the pamphlets into his backpack as they make their way out for the break. He states that if he and Charlie aren’t going to be spending as much time together, then he might as well fill all that time with things that are actually important. Riley questions whether he and Charlie have even like… really discussed what happened -- because she is vague on the details and isn’t quite sure what is up between them -- but Zay waves her off.
Riley: So everything is okay.
Zay: Well… not exactly.
Riley: So you’re breaking up.
Zay: No. Not exactly.
Riley: And when was the last time you talked about this? [ nervously ] When was the last time you talked at all?
Zay, cutting her off: Riley, relax. You’ve already got one complicated relationship dominating your life, don’t let Charlie and me become the same.
Valid, but also a convenient excuse to avoid the topic. Riley relents, instead switching gears and suggesting that if Zay will have so much more time open on his social calendar this week, perhaps he would be able to squeeze in a visit to their absent classmate?
He doesn’t seem to enthused by the prospect, but it’s clear that this is a warpath Riley has been marching on for quite some time now. He reluctantly says he’ll consider it.
INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY
Isadora pokes her head in to chat with ERIC MATTHEWS, wishing him a restful break. He returns the sentiment, assuring her that he is heading out of the office shortly after them and will give himself a well-earned respite as well. She also questions how he’s doing this week emotionally, which seems to amuse him.
Eric: You realize this is the fourth time you’ve asked me that this week?
Isadora: [ unfazed, patiently waiting for a response ]
Eric, with a smile: … yes, I’m doing better. Thank you.
Placated for now, Isadora switches gears and asks if there’s anything Eric needs to give to Farkle this break. She’ll be dropping by to take him homework, so she can play messenger for him too if necessary. Eric remembers some flyers he meant to give for him in his preparation for returning to school. As he hands them over, he encourages Isadora to also take this holiday to take a breather. He thinks they all could use it.
Oh, and at the top of that list of people who really need to relax…
INT. AAA - PROP LOFT - DAY
ASHER GARCIA is meticulously arranging items on the shelves, doing his last touch-up organization of the loft before they leave for a week. He’s talking anxiously as he works, rambling about the state of things and how he’s supposed to get everything back in perfect shape. He’s speaking about the order of the prop loft, but that’s not really what he’s speaking about.
And that’s more than clear to DYLAN ORLANDO. He’s seated on the floor in front of the shelves, humoring Asher’s poorly veiled way of discussing how much of a mess everything is in socially removed terms and nodding along. He’s scribbling on a piece of notebook paper, delicately folding it and sliding it into the same cubby hole where Riley found his note in 206. Asher doesn’t notice a thing.
Dylan is smiling as he climbs back to his feet, tackling the discussion head on and explaining the situation from his perspective. He explains to Asher that Lucas was dead serious about their sentencing and took full responsibility for it. He even made a major point about taking all the blame off of Dylan, claiming that it was all him and his friend was only trying to make sure he didn’t get into anymore trouble.
That’s noble, yes, but Asher can’t believe Dylan is so calm about this. How can he not be at all upset? He got arrested.
Dylan: The cause of my impenetrable sense of peace is threefold. [ holding up three fingers ] One, I am a human being capable of making my own decisions. You said so yourself. I knew what I was doing when I agreed to go with Lucas, so it’s not like he’s some incorrigible demon corrupting me and my adorable veneer of innocence and naiveté.
Asher: You’ve been looking at the word of the day calendar, I see.
Dylan: Two. [ dropping a finger ] It really just doesn’t feel like that big a deal. I mean, yes, it’s a big deal that we got arrested and I would not like to repeat that ever again -- not to mention it would be a far bigger deal if I were any other race or gender, because of all the systemic imbalances in the justice system that make it way harder for small crimes to remain small and not totally derail your life when you’re not white and male, which now that I’m thinking about it is really kind of a huge problem that we’re not talking about enough and now I’m starting to get lightheaded -- is this what it feels like to be you all the time?
Asher: Dyl, lighthouse. And yes.
Dylan: Right. Larger sociocultural issues aside, I don’t think it’s worth getting hung up on. It happened, we dealt with it, and now we move on. Things are going to be different, yeah, but things change every day. I think it’s way more important to decide what happens next rather than get stuck on what already did. And, three --
Dylan is down to one finger, which he uses to tap at Asher’s cheek affectionately.
Dylan: All I know is that when all was said and done, Lucas stood up for me. I know he’s going through a lot right now and hasn’t been acting much like himself, but you and I both know that he always looks out for his friends. He never lets anyone else take the fall. That’s still true, and I still think that the person we’ve had as our best friend for three years, faults and all, is who he really is. I believe that, so I’m not going to drop him.
Asher absorbs this, obviously torn. He crosses his arms. Dylan continues, gently taking Asher’s shoulders and getting him to meet his eyes.
Dylan: However… if you decide that you don’t want to deal with it anymore, then that’s okay too. He messed up, and you have every right to decide that you’ve had enough and not forgive him. Or even if you do forgive him, you don’t have to let him back into your life. It’s all up to you, and it’s something that you have to come to on your own I think. Even though --
Asher, under his breath: I hate decisions.
Dylan, without missing a beat: You hate decisions. I know. But you’ll have plenty of time to think about it while you’re with your fam in Florida, and we know you’re an expert at thinking things to death. [ off Asher’s eye roll ] I’m just saying, whatever you choose to do will be the best one for you. I believe that, too. And I’ll support it no matter what… although, I’m pretty sure the best choice will be the right one. I’m not worried.
Asher: You never are. [ off Dylan’s beam ] So… what is the right choice?
As if he’ll give it up that easily. Dylan makes a face, shifting his gaze to the wall behind them as he pretends to be lost in thought. Then he locks eyes with him again, lightly tapping the side of his nose in a knowing gesture.
Dylan lightly taps Asher on the nose as well, grinning and spinning to depart without another word. Asher blinks, obviously still not thrilled with the things he has to contemplate but unable to hold back a smile in his boyfriend’s presence. He makes one last adjustment to the props before following him towards the stepladder.
INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY
Lucas arrives in the doorway, no longer sauntering around like he owns the place. Instead he lightly knocks, an awkward gesture considering how unnatural it is.
JACK HUNTER raises his gaze from his work, emotion flitting across his features at the sight of Lucas for a second before he resets to a pleasant, neutral state. Pleasant, but removed, so not really pleasant at all. Not at all like it’s supposed to be.
Jack: Something I can help you with, Mister Friar?
Lucas: [ thrown by the way he addressed him ] … um, yeah. I’m supposed to get the service paperwork from you.
Jack hums, nodding. He rises to his feet and digs through the papers on the cabinet behind his desk. Lucas remains uncertainly in the doorway, twisting his fingers subconsciously.
Jack finds the correct form, crossing the room to hand it to him. Lucas thanks him, Jack offering a polite nod as he heads back to his desk without further ado.
Lucas glances down at the paper, then at Jack settling into his desk again. It’s obvious he wants to say something, anything, but he doesn’t know what. It’s like he’s lost the right to say anything ever again. He retreats sheepishly, disappearing back into the main office.
Jack glances up from his desk, expression betraying his own disappointment. He shakes it off, focusing back on his work.
INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY
Farkle is settling back into the apartment, a bit stiff in it after nearly a month away. He’s set up a home base of sorts in the living room, blankets folded on the opposite end of the couch and a formidable stack of books on the coffee table. He’s dressed more comfortably than he previously allowed, light wash jeans and a hand-me-down Princeton sweatshirt a far cry from blazer glory.
Jennifer is bustling around in the kitchen behind him, relaying all of the details for their upcoming break and his adjustment back home. She mentions the specifics of when Farkle should be taking his medications for stabilizing his body in the aftermath of the attempt, and who will be home when to keep him company (and watch over him).
Jennifer: Lila is on her way back from school now, and Uri will be here after school when I go to work. I’ll be staying mornings. Of course, Darla and Curtis will be checking in periodically throughout the day to see if you need anything --
Farkle: Hence my transition to the public display case of the living room, yes.
Jennifer: You know they appreciate that rather than having to intrude your privacy to enter your room.
Farkle makes a face. It’s a lot of attention, yes, but he also knows exactly why it’s necessary. Regardless of the state he’s in now, he certainly did his part to earn the surveillance.
Jennifer: And Ezekiel is coming back next weekend. He’s going to try and fly home when he can.
Farkle, sheepish: He doesn’t have to do that.
Jennifer: He wants to. He wouldn’t have it any other way, and we’re lucky that we can afford it.
Farkle: He doesn’t -- I mean, no one needs to go to all this trouble. It’s good, I mean, I’m good. I’ll be fine.
Jennifer gives him a smile, gently perching on the arm rest next to him. She takes his chin in her hand, only slightly belittling.
Jennifer: It’s cute that you think I’m going to take your word for it.
Farkle scowls, shrugging out of her grasp. Mostly because he knows she’s right. Jennifer laughs, leaning over to give him a kiss on the top of the head. When she pulls back, the expression on her face grows more serious.
Jennifer: I love you. [ a beat ] I’m very glad you’re home.
A loaded declaration. Farkle’s indignation fades, returning the sincerity despite how out of practice he is.
Farkle, quietly: Me too.
Jennifer smiles lovingly, stroking his cheek once more before jumping to her feet again. She shakes off the heaviness, brightly suggesting the ways that Farkle can enjoy the break home before he returns to school even while being under more careful watch. He’s got that hefty stack of books there, and perhaps there are more people he wants to see? He’s more than welcome to invite some friends over, provided he lets her know.
Farkle doesn’t seem convinced by this prospect.
Farkle, under his breath: Would need some friends first.
Oof. After a month away, Farkle is feeling the sting of his isolation more than ever.
INT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - DAY
Isadora is also set up on the couch, Blue’s living room acting as her makeshift bedroom while she’s in transition between foster homes. She’s far more settled into her space than Farkle, comfortably flipping through homework when there’s a bold knock on the door.
She doesn’t seem surprised -- and maybe even a bit excited -- as she rises to answer the door. On the other side is VALERIE DE LA CRUZ, looking glamorous as always as she cheerfully greets her daughter.
As she steps inside, BLUE NGUYEN emerges from the hall to the bedroom. She graciously greets him with her high-wattage Hollywood smile, thanking him profusely for allowing her into his house and taking such good care of Isadora. It’s obvious he has no idea how to react to her boisterous presence, accepting the praise with as much poise as he can muster.
Then Valerie is back on Isadora again, already questioning what they should do or how they should spend the week. A delicious dinner to start, perhaps? There’s this upscale place she’s been dying to try on the upper west side -- oh and Blue can come too, of course. Or perhaps a movie, if there’s one Isadora has been dying to see?
Valerie: Of course, you’ll need to clear your calendar for Friday. Very important evening plans.
[ She retrieves three tickets from her purse, handing them over with a mischievous grin and flourish. Isadora takes them, jaw dropping when she reads them. ]
Isadora: Hamilton? You got Hamilton tickets?
Valerie: It was hardly a tizzy. Just called in a favor with Lin -- you know how he was practically begging me to be in In the Heights. Well, he was more than happy to work these out for us. [ brightly ] There’s a third one in there too. I figured you might want to invite one of your friends -- Maya, I would guess? I’m sure she would love to go, even if just for the chance to boast a little bit with your classmates next week. All in good fun, of course.
Isadora, still dazed by the tickets in her hands, claims Maya won’t be able to come. Valerie asks why not, concerned, but Isadora simply states that she’s out of town for the break. Visiting Katy. This only confuses Valerie further, considering how much has happened since her last visit.
Valerie: Well, where on Earth is Katy?
INT. HART FAMILY HOME - NIGHT
KATY HART, dressed plainly and in the midst of helping cook dinner, jogs to answer the urgent knocking at the door. She pushes her hair out of her face, yanking open the door.
Katy: Just a second! Goodness, who the hell --
There on the other side of the door is MAYA HART, weary from a long day of traveling and clutching a suitcase in her hands. She brightens when she sees her mom, effortless smile blooming across her face.
Maya: Sorry. Just couldn’t wait much longer.
From the expression on her face, it’s clear that Katy was not expecting her. But it’s impossible to keep the happy grin off her face, even if mixed with incredulousness. Before she can get a word in edgewise, Maya barrels her with a hug.
Katy’s mother and father emerge from the kitchen, asking who it is and what all the fuss is about. VIVIAN “VIV” HART (60s) is demurely beautiful even with her age, although clearly the authoritative one of the pair of them. HENRY HART (60s), on the other hand, radiates that same bold and upbeat energy that his daughter and granddaughter are so proud of.
Both of them are gleeful to see Maya, rushing over to join in on the welcomes and hugs. She’s whisked into the house without another thought, not sparing a second towards how she got there or what she’s doing there in the first place…
INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Alone” as performed by Young Frankenstein Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus (feat. AAA Juniors)
The dramatic orchestral burst sets the mood in an instant, a spotlight illuminating Farkle standing atop one of the grandiose staircases in the Minkus abode. From the moment he speaks, it’s clear we’re in for a truly theatrical return to form.
Farkle: Oh, Maya, darling Maya, I miss you so much. Life has been absolute -- [ offhand, to DAVE WILLIAMS standing just out of frame ] dry martini, Davis, and I mean dry -- HELL without you. I’m so, so, so --
And thus Farkle launches into the ridiculous soliloquy, sashaying around in a luxurious dress shirt ensemble and dancing with his AAA classmates (sans the other super seven), who have all taken the roles of his wait staff and are dressed in identical uniforms. Some of them really make this look work, like YINDRA AMINO, while others like NIGEL CHEY and NATE MARTINEZ seem unimpressed as to what they’re doing there or why they’re being cast as his butlers.
When he dances with each of them, Asher and Dylan maintain their characterization by looking pretty disturbed in having to interact with him. Still, they all play their parts well, creating an enjoyable and suave support for Farkle’s melodramatic lament. Dave tries his best to give him the perfect martini, but never quite hits the mark.
All that aside, the most important aspect of the number is how good it feels to see Farkle perform again. Not just perform, but be absolutely, wholly over-the-top and ridiculous with an endearing amount of fanfare. This is the Farkle we haven’t seen in quite some time, and it’s nice to see him again as he tilts his head back to the high ceilings and belts out the final notes.
INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY
Even if only in a dream. Farkle is startled awake by peppy knocking at the door, having dozed off amidst his nest of blankets. On the TV, the film version of Young Frankenstein is playing. He struggles to his feet, attempting to shake off the fatigue and put himself back in presentable order. He reaches up to fix his hair on instinct before remembering he barely has any now, huffing and sliding towards the door.
Riley and Lucas are waiting on the other side, Riley offering a warm smile and cheerful greeting. Lucas does neither, keeping his arms crossed and settling for a glare instead. But hey, better than a derisive comment. That's an improvement!
Farkle steps back to allow them in, eyeing Lucas cautiously as they make their way inside. He questions what they’re doing there, which Riley scoffs at as if it’s a silly question. She explains that they wanted to come by and see how he was doing, moving further into the space and immediately going to adjust the blinds and let in more natural light.
Farkle tosses a look to Lucas. That so? Lucas doesn’t comment either way, turning away from him and getting a better look around.
Riley continues to quickly discuss all that’s happened in Farkle’s absence as he wanders over to join her. She mentions that someone will probably bring homework by at some point, and of course everyone is talking here and there about prom. They’ve started decorating for the senior send-off -- crazy how they’ll be seniors in just a couple months, isn’t it?
Riley: I’m glad that all of us will be able to jump into the final year together. [ a beat ] We all miss you.
Farkle, with a snort: Forgive me for not believing you. I’m suicidal, not delusional.
Well… remains to be seen. Riley brushes past the moment, asking how he’s doing and how his time at the hospital was. In a softer voice, she admits that there was a period where her mother considered sending her to some place similar for her depression when she was being bullied in ninth grade, so she’s always wondered. Behind her, Lucas continues to poke around the entryway and dining area with mild interest.
Farkle gives her the basic run down, expressing that while the treatment was fine and the workers were all quite nice, it’s hard to sell it as a desirable place to be when everyone present wants to die.
Farkle: You know, it’s hard to give it its due credit when most of the residents would rather be dead than be there. Literally, in case that point wasn’t clear. Not to mention the feeling of near constant surveillance, which I get, I put it upon myself, but it gets to the point where I was starting to wonder if I would ever be able to even think without the feeling that one of those well-intended nurses would hear my thoughts. It’s been nice to have the freedom of loneliness again, which isn’t something you’d ever think to say.
Riley: Well, that’s good. I guess?
Farkle: As good as it can be. But seriously, you think they’d save the overbearing surveillance for those who truly need it -- speaking of, hey Jackass --
Farkle has shifted his gaze to over Riley’s shoulder, glaring at Lucas. He jumps, spinning from where he’s examining the mantle by the dining table.
Farkle: Don’t you think it’s a bit morally decrepit to steal from the mentally ill?
Lucas scoffs, feigning innocence. He shrugs, crossing his arms in defense.
Lucas: Ha, I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Farkle stares, raising one unimpressed eyebrow. Riley glances over her shoulder to look at him as well, giving him a knowing but more sympathetic grimace / smile.
After a moment of their dual scrutiny, Lucas relents. He scoffs again, pulling a handful of genuine silverware as well as a couple of other trinkets from his pockets and dropping them onto the dining table.
Farkle rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he settles back onto the couch. Riley keeps her eyes on Lucas as he sheepishly comes over to join them, but her disapproval would be more convincing if it wasn’t colored with unintentional fondness. She apologizes on his behalf, expressing that he’s had some trouble with those sort of compulsions lately.
Farkle: Oh, yeah, so I’ve heard. [ to Lucas ] Heard you stole a car.
Lucas, flatly: Maybe.
Riley: Not stole. Borrowed for temporary reckless purposes.
Farkle and Lucas continue to have a back and forth, sharing the same blunt and offhand tone.
Farkle: No keys? Break-in and hotwire?
Lucas: What do you think?
Farkle: BMW? Lexus?
Lucas: Maserati.
Farkle: No kidding. But doesn’t that have that security feature they were hyping to all hell -- ?
Lucas: Doesn’t matter if you disable it first.
Farkle: You can do that?
Lucas: If you know how.
Farkle: … touché. [ looking him over, cracking a smirk ] Well done.
Not the expected response, and a little refreshing. Lucas kind of smiles, but Riley is not thrilled with the exchange.
Riley: Okay, no, do not encourage him. We are not doing this --
Riley takes Lucas by the arms, spinning him and nudging him back towards the door. She tells Farkle that she’ll be sure to call him later, and she tried to talk to their other classmates about swinging by so she’s sure he’ll have company this week. Farkle doesn’t look convinced, but the sentiment is nice enough.
As she disappears into the hall, Farkle calls after her.
Farkle: Riley?
She pokes her head back around the door frame, giving him a look and raising her eyebrows. After a moment, Farkle smiles lightly.
Farkle, softly: Thank you.
This melts whatever chill he put between them from his brazenness with Lucas right quick. She returns the smile, blowing him a light kiss and pulling the door closed behind her.
Farkle releases a sigh, settling back into the couch and the solitude.
INT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - DAY
Isadora and Valerie are hanging out in the living room, Valerie pacing with restless energy. They’re debating what to do that afternoon, Isadora already showing a sign or two of feeling overwhelmed. She’s happy to have her mother there, but constant interaction can be a lot.
Their conversation is interrupted by a playful knock on the door, Isadora frowning. Valerie asks if she’s expecting anyone else, and Isadora calls back the same question to Blue as she goes to open the door.
On the other side is a delightful surprise, Dylan distracted by taking in the scenery around the apartment until Isadora opens the door fully. He grins wide when they lock eyes, holding a stack of tupperware in his arms.
Isadora: Dylan. What are -- what are you doing here?
Dylan: I wanted to swing by. I hope that’s okay.
Isadora: Sure. Um… what’s with the stuff?
Dylan: Oh, yeah, well --
Dylan adjusts them in his arms, letting out a laugh. Blue joins them in the living area, curious.
Dylan: I know you’re in transition right now and stuff, and with everything going on I figured y’all probably weren’t cooking for yourselves. Ramen is sustenance, but it’ll only last you so long. And I had plenty of time cause of break, so I just threw together a meal or two.
Or ten. It’s a complicated transferral from Dylan’s arms to Isadora’s to make sure nothing gets dropped, Blue jogging over to help.
Dylan: I had Asher write the stickies with the reheat instructions -- his handwriting is way better than mine, so.
Valerie flutters up to the doorway to get a better look, having waited long enough in the shadows. She brightens when she recognizes him, knowing him as one of Isadora’s classmates and eager to engage with another one of her friends. Dylan may not be her biggest fan, but he’s far more adept at feigning friendliness and navigating social situations than say, Lucas.
Valerie: Yes, yes, you were amongst the techies. Am I right? A darling crop of little talents there, I remember.
Dylan: Sure was. It’s great to see you again.
Valerie: I remember, you had on that bright yellow crewneck. Impossible not to make an impression wearing that! And you were always with -- where’s your other friend? The well-dressed, dainty one --
Isadora, apprehensive: Mom --
Dylan, lighting up once he understands: Oh, Asher! My boyfriend. [ off Valerie’s delighted expression ] Yes, I do quite love his little bird bones. He’s on vacation with his family for the break.
Isadora attempts to end the conversation before it can take any negative turns, thanking Dylan for the food and thinking of her.
Valerie: Oh, you have to go so soon?
Isadora: I’m sure he has better things to do.
Dylan, softer: Actually, um, I was kind of hoping we could catch up. [ meeting Isadora’s eyes ] We haven’t had much of a chance to talk, lately.
There’s a pause between them. Isadora seems like that’s something she might like to do too, but with Valerie hanging around them they won’t get to really say much of importance.
Blue steps in, asking Valerie if she might be able to help him get all this food organized and in the fridge. A swoop in rescue if there ever was one.
Blue, pointedly: Might take some time. My fridge could use some reorganizing.
Valerie: Oh, it would be my privilege, Blue. Don’t you worry, I have just the solution. My good friend Marie Kondo is really into this sort of thing, and she gave me an exclusive method I could use --
Valerie trails off as they disappear towards the kitchen, giving Dylan and Isadora space. Isadora watches her go, then turns back to Dylan who offers her a smile. She manages to return it.
INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY
Farkle is in the midst of reading, interrupted by another knock at the door. He shouts for Uri, assuming it’s for him. When no one goes to answer and they knock again, Farkle lets out an annoyed growl and climbs to his feet, dropping his book on the couch.
Farkle: If you’re gonna have people over, the least you could do is not have your ailing brother open the damn --
He cuts himself off when he sees a familiar face on the other side. Clearly not there for Uri.
Farkle: … Zay? What are you doing here?
Zay Babineaux, indeed. He seems a bit uncomfortable as he stands in the fancy hallway, but he made it there regardless.
Zay: Riley is damn hard to disappoint. [ a beat ] You going to let me in?
Farkle steps back, allowing his rival diva into the apartment. Zay is struck by the opulence, jaw dropping open slightly as he takes a look around. He knew Farkle was loaded, but it’s a lot different to see it up close and personal.
Zay bothers to ask how Farkle is doing -- he claims as to be expected, but somewhat better. Dare he admit it, he honestly misses the high energy and constant action of AAA. There’s plenty he doesn’t miss, but the life that seems to pulsate through it every day is a big one.
Farkle: But I’m sure you know that better than I do. I’m sure you’ll probably want to be going soon. People to see, actually healthy relationships to foster.
Zay: To be honest, I don’t think I’m doing much better in that department either.
Farkle blinks, surprised. Zay isn’t looking at him, keeping his gaze trained out the huge wall of windows towards the city. There’s a solemnity to his expression that Farkle hasn’t ever really seen before. Whatever it is that’s weighing him down, it must be important.
The solution, it seems, is to go back to what the two of them do best. Farkle says so. Despite whatever is in flux otherwise, there is one thing that the two of them can control without fail -- their ability to put on a good performance.
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “no tears left to cry” as performed by Ariana Grande || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Zay Babineaux
Farkle kicks off the diva number, but it’s not long before Zay joins in. It’s difficult for him to turn down Ariana, after all. It’s the first true Farkle & Zay duet, and their voices clash just enough to create an intriguing, compelling dynamic rather than irritating. Not to mention they both bring the energy, dancing around the spacious penthouse.
Given the space, it’s also the perfect opportunity to pay tribute to the original cinematography. Zay is allowed to temporarily slip into the melodramatic mindspace of Farkle Minkus, the two of them walking on the walls and balancing amongst a penthouse folding in on itself.
The sentiment of the tribute rings strong for both of them. The time for wallowing is over, and they’re both ready to jump back into the ring with stronger motivation than ever before, albeit for quite different reasons.
As the number concludes, Zay collapses into the armchair adjacent to the couch. He catches his breath and commends Farkle for a job well done, as it seems even near death can’t knock him out of performing shape. Farkle admits he has to work extra hard to keep up with him.
The conversation drifts to Zay’s plans for the rest of break, after Farkle flatly states that his spring break basically belongs to the confines of his living room. He explains all of the auditions he’s lined up for future opportunities, vaguely alluding to his change of priority. Farkle doesn’t question it, instead lighting up as he remembers something.
He jumps to his feet, returning from the kitchen a moment later with another pamphlet. He hands it to Zay, stating that he should add that program to his roster for the week. It’s some audition that only folks on a paying list can really get updates about, but he should go for it since Farkle certainly won’t be going up for anything any time soon.
Zay seems hesitant to accept charity from him, but also grateful. He takes it and looks through it, asking if Farkle thinks he should actually do it. Any of it. If it’s even going to be worth it.
Farkle: I don’t know, man. Who knows what’s worth it and what isn’t in this business. It’s all a shot in the dark.
Zay: Yeah, but you’ve always had more luck. You’ve been the golden child since we walked through the doors of Adams freshman year.
Farkle: Yep, totally. I was the million dollar baby -- and yet, I still wanted to kill myself. [ off Zay’s grimace ] I’m just saying, we all have to do everything we can, because talent sure as hell isn’t everything. If you think you need to stretch your network, then by all means, do it. Knowing you, it won’t take long for you to see results.
Zay contemplates this, such a supportive and well-meant notion coming from his formerly feral classmate. He nods a thanks.
Riley, pre-lap: So happy to help. You’re very welcome.
INT. SOUP KITCHEN - DAY
Riley smiles as a customer walks away with their food, working behind the counter at a soup kitchen. She’s got the apron and plastic gloves and all, hair pulled back out of her face in a tight bun. She reaches up to ding the small bell on the countertop in front of them, signaling they’re ready for a new patron.
Lucas is there next to her, also aproned and gloved. He looks less enthused, though he completes the work diligently. He states that if he has to do so much labor with no gain or end goal for himself, then he supposes the fact that it’s helping the less fortunate is something.
Lucas: I don’t even like working for myself. You can imagine my disdain.
Riley: [ rolling her eyes ] You know that whole act doesn’t work on me. The lazy, devil-may-care thing. I know it’s not true, I see right through it.
Lucas: I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not see through.
Riley: You’re a window. An open window.
Lucas: Okay, sure.
Riley: Not even a screen in there. Just wide open, letting in the breeze and the sunshine.
Lucas: See, that’s a very sanguine perception of me. I don’t think you could get popular consensus on that.
Riley gives him a look, the two of them holding one another’s glares again before inevitably breaking into smiles. They get distracted from the moment anyway, duty calling and hungry people waiting to be served. Riley picks the conversation back up again, pointing out that Lucas does in fact gain something from all this work -- the privilege of not going to prison. He claims that would be a gross overreaction anyway.
Riley: Well, you did steal a car.
Lucas: Borrowed. For temporary reckless purposes. [ defensively ] And I was going to give it back.
Riley makes an incredulous face, but once again amusement is hindering its impact. And that makes a difference? Lucas brings it all back to the point, reiterating that while it feels nice to contribute something meaningful, it’s going to be hell getting through an entire week of something so monotonous.
Well, all you need to fix that is a little bit of initiative. Riley says as much, glancing around the shop where people are chowing down and calling to one of the elderly men seated over by the corner table. She requests that he bump the dated jukebox installed to get it going, breathe some life into this place.
Lucas, deadpan: Oh, yes. Music is the solution. How could I have forgotten?
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Lady Madonna” as performed by The Beatles || Performed by Riley Matthews (feat. Lucas James Friar)
The popular Beatles tune floats in through the jukebox, the patrons immediately appreciating its upbeat bounce. Riley shakes her shoulders to the beat, grooving in place until the vocals start so she can sing along.
Lucas: And now you’re singing. Okay. Sure.
Despite his commentary, it’s impossible for Lucas not to be endeared by her when she’s being so darn charming. She continues to sing and dance around him regardless of his sarcasm, taking it out into the shop and pulling customers into the fun. They clearly appreciate it, singing along with Riles when she hops up to sit on one of the tables.
She makes her way back over to Lucas at the conclusion of the first verse, taking his hand and pulling him out from behind the counter. As they make their way out of frame…
EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY
We jump into a quick cut montage of Riley and Lucas making their way through the week doing all sorts of different community service projects. They shelve books at the library, they pick up trash alongside the road. They help fix up housing accommodations that are in disrepair, flicking paint at each other; they’re surrounded by puppies at the animal shelter, where Lucas seems to actually be enjoying what they’re doing.
At the end of the middle transition, the first “see how they run,” Lucas and Riley sing it together while taking a moment of reprieve from running all around town doing good. Lucas seems exhausted, yet Riley’s grin brightens the mood as she spins him around and nudges him back off-screen into the next thing.
INT. SOUP KITCHEN - DAY
Back in the soup kitchen, Riley has pulled Lucas out onto the floor amidst the tables. She pulls him into a simple dance move, a shot focusing on both of their shoes doing the moves across the linoleum floor. Scuffed up black boots and cute doodled-on Keds, moving somewhat in sync and in the same direction.
INT. PUBLIC LIBRARY - DAY
Riley rides on the book cart as Lucas continues to push it through the aisles, picking up the verse again and handing books to Lucas to shelve as they go. The song takes us back through each of their projects one more time, in time with the beat…
INT. SOUP KITCHEN - DAY
Until we end up back behind the counter at the soup kitchen, back to the same old but in admittedly much better spirits than before.
Riley spins around Lucas and ends up back in her spot, exchanging a flirtatious beam with him before reaching up and hitting the bell to signal the end of the number. Ding!
EXT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - DAY
Isadora and Dylan are out on the tiny balcony that can hardly be called a balcony, cramped against the sliding door and sharing the tupperware bin of cookies. Isadora hasn’t indulged in her treat yet, too preoccupied with Dylan’s story as he catches her up on everything that happened, building up to the joy ride. When he finishes, she can only formulate one statement.
Isadora: Holy fucking shit.
Yeah, that about sums it up. Dylan nods in agreement, breaking a piece of his cookie and popping it into his mouth. She attempts to process it all, expressing the same thought that she can’t believe Dylan is being so cool about all of it. He shrugs, Isadora shaking her head and lamenting how shitty Lucas has been, that of course it would culminate in something like this.
Dylan gives the same shorthand defense that he gave to Asher, before pointing out that Isadora is probably speaking way more from her own anger towards Lucas that she’s chosen not to confront nor address for months. It’s a take that floors her to speechlessness, Dylan noticing her shock before shrugging again.
Dylan: Sorry. I’ve been to the clink, I’m a different man now.
At that, Isadora rolls her eyes. But she has to admit that he’s right -- she and Lucas haven’t spoken in months. And even when they were talking, they weren’t really talking. The last time she feels like they really understood another, were really listening, was almost a year ago. And she wouldn’t even know how to communicate with him now.
Dylan states she doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to, but to him it seems like she does. It’s impossible for either of them to move past the way they are right now because there’s no closure. If she gives it one more chance and actually talks about things, then at least she’ll get that.
Dylan: Even if it’s not good, even if it’s the last conversation you ever have, at least it’s something. You’ll be able to clear the air. A certain goodbye is better than endless uncertainty.
Although she seems reluctant, Isadora claims she’ll think about it. She asks how Asher is handling things and if Dylan has made his choices about the whole situation, to which Dylan affirms both. He knows that Asher will make the right choices, and as for himself, he’s never wavered on where he stands. He’s always been an advocate for forgiveness, so long as the action isn’t totally reprehensible. Especially when you love the person who is seeking it.
Isadora absorbs the sentiment, taking a good look at him. Although she doesn’t say it, the softness that shimmers in her features conveys how much she missed Dylan.
Isadora: Since when did you become all wise?
Dylan, earnest: The hour and 13 minutes that I was behind bars really changed me.
She can’t help but laugh, Dylan cracking his delivery to grin. Isadora takes a bite of the cookie, humming in appreciation and nodding.
Isadora, mouth full: This is fucking delicious.
Dylan: Why thank you. And you’re welcome.
EXT. HART FAMILY HOME - HILLSIDE - DAY
A fresh new day. The sun is rising over the hillside, a pleasant breeze blowing the long grass.
Maya stands amidst the fresh air, taking it all in. She’s almost unrecognizable, no longer in her diva best. Fresh-faced with no make-up, money-making hair pulled haphazardly out of her face in a ponytail. Dressed plainly like the rest of the Hart family.
She closes her eyes, inhaling a deep breath. Absorbing the sunshine, the oxygen, the chance to really breathe. You can take the girl out of the theatrical, but you can’t take the theatrical out of the girl.
Then she turns and heads back up the hill towards the house.
INT. HART FAMILY HOME - DAY
Maya steps back inside the house and immediately joins her grandparents at the kitchen table for brunch. Katy and Vivian are just finishing set up the food, all of them settling in to eat. The way Maya interacts with her family is quite different from the way she is at school, but there’s something refreshing about it. In some ways, it might be nice to see her bring some of this energy back to AAA with her.
Still, her grandparents are invested in her dreams and ambitions. They ask Maya how the fancy arts school is going, and she enthusiastically responds with all of the things she’s gotten to accomplish in the last couple years.
Katy attempts to dig for truth again, subtly shifting the conversation to give Maya an opening to speak truthfully. She loves AAA, of course, but Katy is well aware of how complicated everything is within its walls.
It’s obvious she wants to ask about Farkle, but Maya manages to evade the discussion effortlessly. She digs into her breakfast, changing the subject by asking what Vivian and Henry might want to do that afternoon. Katy accepts the shift, but it’s clear she’s not pleased with it.
INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY
It’s Charlie’s turn to make an appearance at the Minkus home. Farkle pulls open the door that morning to find him standing there, a tupperware haul in his arms that could rival Dylan’s. Farkle is stunned to see him, obviously not expecting it.
Charlie greets him, and once Farkle awkwardly invites him in he launches into a swift explanation of each of the dishes his family put together for them. He wraps up by explaining the two large tupperwares on the bottom, where a couple of casseroles have been stored. He mentions one of them containing pork.
Farkle, flatly: We’re kosher.
Charlie, breathless: … oh. Oh. Well, um --
Farkle: It’s fine. Uri is a heathen, he’ll eat anything.
Farkle takes the tupperware from him, inviting Charlie further in as he goes to drop the stuff in the kitchen. He seems less energized today than earlier in the week, operating with a brusque, restless nature instead.
His offhand bluntness doesn’t help Charlie’s nerves. It’s clear he’s glad to be there out of good will, but he moves about the spacious apartment with obvious uncertainty. So Farkle’s sarcasm only adds another unsettling factor.
Farkle: By all means, make yourself comfortable. We can only hope we don’t get smote by a vengeful God --
Charlie: Huh?
Farkle pauses. There’s a subtext to his statement that his knowledge allows him -- Charlie being gay, Farkle having attempted suicide -- but he opts for the more blatant explanation.
Farkle: You know, the subtle differences in our chosen beliefs. Let’s hope your Catholic deity doesn’t kill you for hanging out with a Jew.
Charlie is so scatter-brained he doesn’t even have the energy to care about that take on his religion. He awkwardly brushes it off, settling onto the couch and asking Farkle how he’s doing. They were all worried about him. Farkle obviously doesn’t believe him either, pacing along the carpet as he gives Charlie a similar spiel.
When he turns the tables back on Charlie and asks how things are, he carries the same uncertainty that Zay did a couple of days ago. Farkle picks up on this, smart enough to piece together that something must be going on between the two of them. Sure makes both of their free time to come see him more logical.
It feels like Charlie could use an escape, and honestly in that moment Farkle is feeling the same. He says as much, jumping back into his former frenzied energy and claiming that Charlie should just forget it for now. He claims they should direct their focus into something better, a little practice maybe -- Charlie seems skeptical, wondering if Farkle should maybe like… be resting, but he’s already off and running.
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I’m Still Standing” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Charlie Gardner
The rendition is bouncy, fun, and definitely checks off the boxes Farkle was trying to achieve. He and Charlie both pour all of their nervous energy into it, making for a good performance. It’s especially interesting to see the two of them perform together, as it’s essentially a first in AMBITION history.
For as neat as the number is, it comes to a rather abrupt conclusion. Ironically, Farkle grows weary fast and nearly collapses. Charlie immediately drops down next to him and helps pull him back to his feet, moving them back towards the couch while Farkle catches his breath.
Despite how fine he’s attempting to appear, everything Farkle has endured isn’t just going to go away. His choices have consequences, and Charlie is witnessing the exhaustion that comes with it. He braces his shoulder and questions whether he’s okay, or if there’s something he can get him. Rather than answering, Farkle throws a curveball.
Farkle: I’m sorry, Charlie.
Charlie, confused: What? For what?
Farkle, out of breath: You’re a good guy. A little bland, yeah, but you’re good. You really care about people -- even people like me, despite all the shits I gave about that -- and I used to think that was dumb. I figured it made me better than you, but it doesn’t. I’m not. And you’re just as good as the rest of us -- you always have been.
Charlie: … I mean, I didn’t --
Farkle: I just want you to… you’re talented, Charlie. Okay? You’re just as good as anyone else, definitely as much as me. [ locking eyes with him ] I’m really sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren’t.
It seems out of left field, yes. But the origin of it is clear, all of these things that Farkle has been ruminating on but didn’t have the chance to say -- might have never had, if his attempt had succeeded. Now he’s making up for it. Now he’s saying it.
Charlie absorbs the sentiment. Somehow, it’s just what he needed, and means more to him than he could’ve anticipated. He manages a smile, nodding and patting Farkle’s shoulder.
INT. HART FAMILY HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY
Katy finally gets a moment alone with Maya, settling down on the couch with her as she flips through an actual hard copy newspaper. She makes a joke about how those things have real actual stories in them -- who knew? Katy humors it before using it to transition to what she wants to talk about: why Maya came all the way out here to avoid spring break in New York.
Maya, timidly: Isn’t wanting to see you enough?
Katy: Of course, and you know I’m happy you’re here. But I wasn’t born yesterday.
Maya hesitates, perhaps about to really open up… when Henry and Vivian enter to join them. Maya sees their entrance as an opportunity for avoidance, picking the most effective conversation starter she knows -- Katy’s unappreciated talent.
After bringing up how Katy hasn’t performed in a hot minute, it doesn’t take long for the grandparents to jump on the bandwagon despite Katy waving them off. Henry, the artistic of the two, settles in at the piano and claims they can throw something together. Provided it’s something they all know.
Maya: Culturally timeless… you know a thing or two about Hamilton, pops?
Henry: Sweet pea, everyone knows a thing or two about Hamilton.
Maybe so. Maya grins, wiggling her eyebrows at Katy as her mother takes a spot by the piano with Henry. She gives Maya a look, but softens as the soft piano kicks up.
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dear Theodosia” as performed by Hamilton Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Katy Hart & Maya Hart (feat. Henry Hart)
Henry’s delicate piano lends a definitive charm to this understated duet, Katy taking the Burr verse. She sings uncertainly at first, but as she looks at Maya and emotes the chorus (“We’ll bleed and fight for you, we’ll make it right for you...”), her lovely voice gains more confidence.
Maya jumps in on the Hamilton verse, her performance a bit more cheeky considering she roped her mother into it. But when they get to the bridge (“My father wasn’t around, I promise I’ll be around for you…”), that devotion and love they have for one another is crystal clear all over again. Maya takes Katy’s hand resting on the piano, linking their fingers.
Henry smiles as he plays along, pride twinkling in his eyes. Vivian watches from the couch, not a creative herself but happy to see her family all together again.
Even in the midst of chaos, there can be moments of beauty.
EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT
Valerie and Isadora are out on the town, having just seen a movie together. Despite it being one of Isadora’s interests, Valerie is keeping up a bulk of the discussion. It’s almost incessant, the way she’s all over the place to keep up conversation. She doesn’t notice, but Isadora is definitely starting to feel a bit of drain.
However, some of this exhaustion melts away when they bump into Eric emerging from a store. He greets them both cheerfully, Isadora engaging in conversation with him seemingly much more seamlessly than with Valerie. Eric assures Isadora that he’s quite enjoying his break, and he promises to continue not doing any work while he’s on vacation.
Valerie definitely clocks their playful back and forth, watching them with fascination and a bit of something like envy or disappointment.
INT. MINKUS HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT
LILA MINKUS is present, helping Farkle with his recovery medications and ensuring he takes them properly. Their back and forth is dry and sarcastic as usual, but Lila is operating with slightly more tact than usual. The banter is more sibling-like rather than colored with genuine disdain.
Once he’s finished and subject switches to dinner plans, Lila pauses. Following the same pattern as Farkle earlier, she finds herself blurting out an emotional truth before she can think it through the way she’s used to.
Lila: You know I -- you know I care about you, right?
Farkle: … sure. Yeah.
Lila: I don’t just mean like -- I know we haven’t always been… I care about you. I can’t even imagine… [ voice cracking ] You can’t ever pull shit like this again. Okay, germ? You aren’t leaving us like that.
Farkle seems surprised by the genuine vulnerability. It’s uncommon in their household, but despite the stammering and tripping over words, he understands what she means. He nods.
Farkle: Got it.
Lila nods, managing a tight smile before escaping from the vulnerability. Farkle watches her go, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face as he puts his water glass in the sink.
EXT. HART FAMILY HOME - FRONT PORCH - NIGHT
Maya has retreated to the fresh air again, sitting on the hammock chair on the porch. Katy steps out to join her, quietly settling down next to her. She questions whether or not Maya has had enough dancing around the issues and is ready to talk about them. They exchange a look, Katy quirking an eyebrow knowingly.
It’s hard to hide from Katy. Maya sighs dramatically, Katy breaking into a smile and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
Maya, melodramatically: It sure is nice out here in the middle of nowhere. Fresh air, quiet, a strange sort of whimsy that comes from having absolutely nothing to offer. [ sighing ] Perhaps it would be better to retire out here to live out the rest of my days, shelving the glitz and glamour of show business for the humble accommodations of the Vermont hillside.
Katy: You’re a good actress, but you aren’t that good, baby girl.
Point taken. It’s not a convincing option, coming from Maya. Katy redirects the conversation to what Maya might be running from instead, because she knows it has nothing to do with the dream.
Finally, Maya does her best to talk it out. She admits that Farkle will be returning to school next week, and she just needed the chance to get away from it all and really think. She’s not really upset with him anymore -- in some ways she is, but mostly she’s just tired. She wants the theatrics between them to stop, but she doesn’t think she wants to remove him from her life for that to happen. She liked having him as a friend; she misses him, and she doesn’t think she can continue to front that she doesn’t anymore. It’s too exhausting, living as a projection rather than authentically herself.
That being said, she doesn’t want things to follow the same pattern and self-destruct all over again. Something has to give, something has to change if they’re going to be friends again. She isn’t sure what, but she figures it won’t even matter if Farkle himself isn’t open to discussing it or willing to change.
As Katy wisely says, it seems like the next logical thing to do is to bring Farkle back into the conversation. Maybe he isn’t willing to change... or maybe he’s been thinking the exact same things. There’s only one way to find out, even if it’s daunting.
Maya sighs, accepting this as truth. She cuddles closer to her mom, reveling in how nice it feels to have her there with her again.
Maya: I love you, mom.
Katy: I love you, too. Every hour of every day.
She places a kiss on the top of her head, settling into the quiet of the Vermont evening.
EXT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
As they arrive to drop Isadora off, Valerie is already overcompensating for the earlier strain in trying to decide what they’ll do tomorrow. And has Isadora figured out who will be accompanying them on Friday? She doesn’t want to rush her, or anything, but it is coming around the bend.
Socially, Isadora has reached her limit. She sort of snaps at Valerie, stating no, she hasn’t figured it out yet. Things go quiet between them, Isadora sighing and facing towards the door. She opts not to just run from the negativity and tries to be honest with Valerie, expressing that she just needs some space. She’s glad she’s there, she is, but it’s… too much all at once. Maybe some time to herself would help.
Valerie does her best to be okay with it, but it’s evident she’s hurt. She relents, bidding Isadora goodnight and requesting that she reach out when she’s feeling more… interested in being with her again. But no rush.
As Valerie walks off, Isadora watches after her. She’s torn, not satisfied with how that conversation went but also too exhausted to deal with it further. She disappears into the apartment.
EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Run And Tell That” as performed by Hairspray Original Movie Cast || Performed by Zay Babineaux
The groovy intro floats over the city as a new day starts, zeroing on Zay emerging from the subway as he launches into the first verse. As he runs and dances his way around Manhattan, bystanders seem to join in on the performance and supplement the epic feeling of his progression through the city.
He darts in and out of buildings, sliding onto the stages and giving a flurry of different auditions. His outfit and style shift as he goes, representing the passage of time throughout the week as well as how he presents himself to each opportunity. Regardless, one trait remains the same -- his unmistakable talent.
INT. AUDITORIUM - DAY
When it gets to the Little Inez bridge, it’s not a different performer but rather stands in as Zay’s “audition” piece. And suffice to say, it’s impressive, showing off his energy and overlooked vocal power. About time we saw this spirit again!
EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY
Audition portion completed, Zay bursts back out onto the streets of Manhattan. More and more of the crowd has gotten into the groove, creating a truly vibrant and energetic portrait of the city.
EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DANCE LOT - DAY
We make a return to a friendly setting to conclude the number, Zay rounding out the performance with his crew of talented and eclectic youth at the dance lot. No Charlie accompanying him this time around, but that doesn’t seem to make a difference. He’s alight with the passion he’s been putting on display all week.
Maybe this is what everything is all about. It’s like he’s gotten so distracted with everything else, he forgot why performing makes him so happy in the first place.
No ignoring it now, that’s for sure. The fellow dancers crowd around and give him welcoming pats on the back and high-fives as he slays the final run. Woo!
EXT. CENTRAL PARK - DAY
Meanwhile, Riley and Lucas are taking a well-needed reprieve from all their court-ordered do-gooding. They’re basically having a lowkey picnic, snacking on a late lunch after another long day of volunteering. Conversation seems to be easy between them, Lucas sprawled on his back and staring at the sky while Riley sits cross-legged an arm’s reach away.
After their chuckles die down from whatever they were talking about previously, Riley states that Lucas was really good at the animal shelter. He definitely has a knack for working with animals, at least far more so than anything else they’ve spent the last week doing.
Lucas: I don’t think it’s hard to show more enthusiasm towards animals than say, trash on the side of the interstate.
Riley: [ nudging him ] I’m serious. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve seen you be that interested in something… like, ever.
Lucas: It’s not my fault most things aren’t interesting. If they want my attention, then they should be better.
Riley shakes her head, biting back a laugh. She tilts her head at him.
Riley: I’m just saying. Maybe this could become something more permanent. You know, when it’s not a punishment for criminal activity. [ a beat, then playful ] Maybe you could get into the habit of actually doing good.
Lucas, thoughtfully: … maybe with you I could.
Oh. That’s not very playful or offhand at all. Lucas realizes his slip up a second too late, glancing nervously at Riley before directing his gaze anywhere but at her. Given that he’s facing the sky, it’s not hard to find other places to look.
But Riley doesn’t miss the moment. She absorbs it, smiling lightly to herself and pressing her lips together to hide it.
After a moment of quiet, Riley starts to broach the topic of how things have been the last few months. She figures it’ll be a touchy subject, but surprisingly, Lucas claims he has something he wants to say about that. She watches him curiously as he pushes himself upright, propping his elbows on his knees and taking a deep breath.
Then he meets her eyes, trying his best to be sincere.
Lucas: I’m sorry. About the way I’ve been acting.
Riley: I get it. There’s been a lot going on.
Lucas: Yeah. But that’s not an excuse. [ a beat ] I think… it just got too easy to deflect. Do you know what I mean? Like things were never good, but then with each thing that got stacked on top of each other in the last month it just felt like another good reason to fall apart. To let another screw go loose, and push away another person who was trying to fix it, until I was standing in the precinct parking lot with a whole bunch of… spare parts, junk, and no clue how they fit together anymore. And I’d done a good job of telling everybody to fuck off, so there’s no one left to help me put things back together. Now I’ve just got to… do it. It just sucks that it took hitting every rock on the way to the bottom for me to realize it.
Riley frowns, sympathetic. But she doesn’t interrupt, letting him work through the feelings on his own.
Lucas: I got there, and now I’ve got to try and fix it, but no amount of reason is a good enough excuse for the way I’ve been treating people. Especially you. [ looking at her ] So I’m genuinely sorry.
An apology was more than Riley was ever expecting, least of all one that feels so honest. There’s a moment of quiet, then she accepts it. They exchange tentative smiles.
Riley questions if he’s planning the same approach for his other friends, to which Lucas sort of laughs and weakly states he doesn’t know who would even count as a friend anymore. She says Asher and Dylan without hesitation, and it’s clear from the way he grows even more timid that they’re at the forefront of his mind.
With a little more nudging, Lucas admits that he doesn’t see what the point is. He was rude to Riley, but he was reprehensible with them. They were there for him and he took advantage of it at every turn, even if he didn’t consciously mean to. After the way they left things, with the things he said to Asher and everything with Dylan and the joy ride…
Lucas, defeated: He’s done. And he should be. [ shaking his head ] He’s never going to forgive me.
Riley understands the hesitation, but she delicately offers a counterpoint.
Riley: Not to sound like the dreamy optimist, but I really wouldn’t be so sure about that.
Lucas: You weren’t there, okay? You don’t know how -- I really fucked up.
Riley: No offense, but I don’t have to have been there to believe that. But I don’t think you’re giving Asher enough credit. I know I don’t know him the way you do, but he doesn’t seem like a particularly vengeful guy. Especially not with someone he loves so much. [ a beat ] You’d be surprised how hard it is to give up on someone you love.
Lucas seems bashful just at the insinuation, still far from comfortable with such open discussions of affection. But perhaps Riley has a point -- she speaks confidently enough, like she knows. He’s certainly listening.
Riley: I’m not giving any guarantees or anything. I just think that, yeah, if you never apologize because you think it’s not even worth it, then Asher definitely will never forgive you. If you never give things the chance to work out, then they won’t.
Something to think about. Lucas contemplates it, seriously considering her point.
INT. HART FAMILY HOME - DAY
Maya finds Vivian in the kitchen, prepping early for dinner. She asks if she wants any help, and Vivian cracks a joke about Maya volunteering to do any sort of housework. Is she sure she’s the same granddaughter she’s always known? Maya rolls her eyes, nudging her playfully before requesting instructions on where she can help.
While they work, Maya takes the opportunity to ask Vivian how she feels about Katy and her current straits. Considering Maya is, perhaps foolishly, trying to do the same thing, does Vivian regret letting Katy try to pursue her dreams rather than doing something more practical?
Vivian prefaces by telling Maya she knows she would never beat around the bush with her. Harts are hearty people, and damn honest at that.
Maya: Believe me, I know. Got a bit of a reputation for it myself.
That aside, Vivian admits that the whole notion of following the artistic dream does feel a bit reckless to her. She’s not a creative person either, so that doesn’t help the mystery of it in her eyes. But that being said… what’s life if not a little bit reckless?
Vivian: I may not get all of the hubbub around the dream, or the passion behind it. But what is the point of life other than to live it? Taking the guaranteed safe route when you believe you could do something more feels a little bit like cheating yourself… especially for someone as hearty as a Hart.
This placates Maya. It’s nice to remember that there are people in her corner all the time, even when they’re not in plain sight right there in front of her. She gives her grandmother a quick kiss on the cheek, then jumps back into dinner prep with the same intensity as a new performance.
INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY
As the week has waned on, Farkle’s energy has come and gone in waves, and presently it’s at a low point. He’s crashed on the couch, eyes glazed over as he watches television. He’s startled by a knock on the door, but he doesn’t make a point of rushing up to get it. When they knock again, Lila emerges from the hall rather than waiting for Farkle to get up and do something about it.
She returns a couple moments later, poking her head in from the entryway.
Lila: Hey. Someone’s here for you.
Farkle, monotonous: Couldn’t be. I don’t have friends.
Lila: You’ve had like five people come by this week. Who were they?
Farkle: Okay. Those were my only friends.
Lila: Would you stop wallowing and just get up? I’m going to let her in either way.
Farkle: You’re the worst sister ever.
Lila: Socialization is good for you.
Isadora, from off-screen: This is ridiculous --
Farkle frowns as he places the familiar voice, turning to look over his shoulder just as Isadora marches into the room. Farkle’s eyes widen and he scrambles to his feet, obviously not expecting to see her at all.
Farkle: Isadora -- Smackle -- what [ adjusting his askew sweatshirt ] what are you doing here?
Isadora, unimpressed: What’s the matter? Did they take away your ability to walk and answer the door for yourself in treatment?
Farkle is speechless, embarrassed. This certainly isn’t the state you want one of your key intellectual rivals to see you in… well, ever. Lila looks back and forth between them, somewhat amused.
Lila: I’ll leave you to it, then. Nice to meet you, Isadora.
Isadora nods to her as Lila disappears back into the hall, snickering to herself.
Farkle and Isadora stand at an impasse for a moment, not sure what to say to one another. Farkle clears his throat, scratching at his neck.
Farkle: You didn’t have to come by. Just because you feel bad.
Isadora: That’s not -- [ scoffing ] that’s not why I came.
Farkle: No?
Isadora: No. I’m here to save your education.
Isadora marches over to him, shoving the homework from Cory into his arms. He manages to catch it, Isadora huffing and pushing past him further into the room. He sorts through the items, realizing that her intentions for visiting were at least partially utilitarian and genuine. He can appreciate that.
Farkle: Oh. Well. Thanks.
Isadora: Uh huh.
He puts down the homework amidst his spread of books on the coffee table, Isadora eyeing them and inching closer to get a better look. She curiously questions how his recovery is going, demonstrating her own knowledge of mental health exposure when she asks if they’re planning to put him on any permanent medication treatment plans.
Farkle flops back onto the couch, shrugging.
Farkle: They’re throwing all of it around. Lexapro. Zoloft. Prozac or Celexa. [ snorting ] You know what I realized? “Farkle” sounds like a drug. I’m a fucking antidepressant.
The problem, he concludes, is that they really don’t know what’s up him, so they’re hesitant to formulate a treatment plan. And makes sense, because he sure as hell doesn’t know what’s up with him either. Guess he’s destined to find out, sooner or later.
Isadora awkwardly wishes him luck with that, Farkle making an unimpressed face. Quiet settles between them -- she’s done her duty, and there’s nothing more to say -- but for some reason she doesn’t rush to leave.
Farkle hardly notices, sort of zoning out. Isadora recognizes the vibe, commenting that it’s okay. Farkle blinks, snapping out of it.
Farkle: Huh?
Isadora: That they’re still there. The… those kind of thoughts. They’re not just going to disappear because you went to one rehab treatment.
Farkle: Auspicious. Thank you.
Isadora: I’m only saying, you don’t have to be back in tip-top tyrant shape right away. You can… take a moment. Remember how to breathe again before you take off running.
Oddly apt to what he’s feeling, even if he’d never vocalize it. He doesn’t seem convinced, but Isadora isn’t going to just say her piece and go. If she’s going to make her point, then she wants to make sure Farkle really hears it.
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Here Comes A Thought” as performed by Estelle & AJ Michalka|| Performed by Isadora De La Cruz & Farkle Minkus
With the opening synth, Isadora hesitantly takes a seat closer to Farkle. Her vocals, although strong as usual, also have a softer edge than we’re used to when she performs -- it’s an intimate conversation, still, even in song form.
The whole performance is very lowkey, the two of them simply sitting next to each other, watching each other carefully. Farkle joins in about halfway through, allowing himself to be more open about his mental state for the first time in the episode.
As the song comes to an end, there’s an unusually vulnerable moment shared between the two of them. They hold eye contact, recreating some of that feeling they felt in Eric’s office during group week although no closer to really understanding what it is.
Isadora clears her throat, searching for a change in subject. She nods towards the English homework.
Isadora: Sorry about the book, by the way. It’s a little banged up, but it’s the best I could do.
Farkle reaches for it, taking it in his hands. Pride & Prejudice. A well-worn copy of it, notes and annotations in the margins visible as he flips through it.
Farkle: Cory didn’t give you a school copy?
Isadora: He did… but I’m pretty sure my mom lost it. [ off Farkle’s snort ] She was all excited to enjoy some “truly classic literature” while endeavoring in her “cultured” stay with me, and I haven’t seen it since. So you get my personal copy instead.
Farkle: Oh, big honor.
Isadora: It is. There’s some genius analysis going on in those margins. Not many are so lucky as to get to experience it for themselves.
Farkle chuckles, taking a better look at some of the annotations. Then he manages a smile, holding up the book indicatively.
Farkle: I’m sure your additions will make for an interesting read, if nothing else.
Isadora tentatively returns the smile, edging her way towards the door to go. She hesitates, spinning back around and asking Farkle if he’s busy Friday evening.
Farkle: … I’m a freshly released mental patient who is basically on mother-ordered house arrest. So naturally, I’m booked solid.
Isadora: You’re not aware that I suck at sensing sarcasm, but I’m going to assume that was it. And if you’re not busy… what are your feelings on Hamilton?
INT. SVORSKI’S CAFE - DAY
Friday afternoon, end of break impending. Lucas is sitting alone at a table in the back corner, tapping his fingers nervously on the surface. There’s an iced drink in front of him, but he hasn’t touched it. Every time the cafe door bell jingles he jumps, looking towards the entrance and expecting to see someone important.
It’s always someone else. Lucas deflates after about the third repetition of this, slouching in his seat and dropping his gaze down to the drink in front of him.
The bell jingles again.
This time, it’s Asher pushing his way through the door. Lucas straightens up, swallowing and waiting for Asher to finish scanning the room and find him. He waves at him when they lock eyes, but it sort of looks like an anxious twitch.
Still, he gets the message. After a moment of hesitation, Asher cautiously makes his way through the cafe towards him. He keeps his hands in his coat pockets, on the defensive as he comes to stand at the table.
Lucas greets him, awkwardly standing as well. There’s an uncomfortable moment where they both look at one another, not sure what to do next, before Asher settles in the chair opposite him. Lucas takes that as his cue, dropping back down into his seat as well.
Lucas: I got you a drink. [ sliding the drink across the table ] Peach lemonade. ‘Cause I know you like it. I didn’t add like, sugars or anything, because I wasn’t… well, I figured you would know how you’d want that. If any.
Asher glances down at the drink. He lightly touches the lid, running his fingers along it. Not saying anything.
Lucas stares at him, obviously wishing he would. At a loss for how to proceed tactfully, everything he wants to say tumbles out of him unceremoniously.
Lucas: You were right to get upset. Okay? Believe me, I know that. And I promise, I’m going to pay you back for the bail money. And the hospital bill from my wrist, and… and like, all of it. I’m going to make the money and then I’m going to pay it back.
[ Asher lifts his eyes, watching him uncertainly. Lucas trips over what to say next. ]
Lucas: And I’m done with the stupid stunts. No more pulling Dylan into anything either. And I don’t know if I did any damage to your car -- I don’t think I did -- but like, tell me if I did and I’ll fix it. I’m going to -- I’ll fix it. Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.
Still nothing. Asher is clearly listening, contemplative, but to Lucas it just feels like a wall. He grows more desperate, voice cracking and speech terse as he chokes on the emotion.
Lucas: You’re my best friend. [ a beat ] You’re my best friend, and I’m sorry that I fucked that up. And I know that… I know I can survive without you. Duh. I could do it, if I had to. But… I don’t want to. [ shaking his head ] I don’t want to think about my life without you in it.
The air is heavy with the truth of his words. Asher quietly absorbs them, dipping his head down to look at the drink. A second of silence. Then another. Then another.
Lucas: Okay, I know I just finished saying that you don’t owe me anything and I’m the one groveling but… could you please say something? Maybe?
A few more moments of silence that feel like an eternity. Then, Asher lifts his gaze to meet his. When his speaks, his voice is soft.
Asher, deadpan: You could start by getting me a straw.
Not the most forthright of acceptances, but not a cold dismissal by any means. And humorous, in Asher’s own special way. Lucas laughs, more out of relief that he’s speaking at all.
Asher: … I wasn’t kidding.
Lucas: Oh. Oh! Hold on --
Lucas gets up, grabbing a straw and sliding back into his seat. He waits as Asher unwraps the straw and sticks it into the lid, taking his time.
Before he takes a sip, he meets his eyes again. This time, some of the warm familiarity they share has reappeared.
Asher, quietly: Thanks, meatball.
The nickname is more of a signal than any verbal acceptance of his apology. Lucas cracks another relieved smile, Asher mirroring it lightly as he takes a long sip of the lemonade.
Perhaps all is not broken beyond repair.
EXT. MINKUS BUILDING - NIGHT
Valerie and Isadora are walking Farkle back to his building post-Hamilton, raving about the show and keeping up a relatively consistent chatter. Isadora is doing more observing of her mother and former rival interacting than contributing, but it isn’t an issue this time. And she seems to be enjoying herself nevertheless.
As they stop outside his building, Farkle states that they didn’t have to walk him all this way. Isadora claims actually, they did, as it was part of the requirements for his mother to let him come along with them.
Farkle: Yeah… thanks for inviting me. It was nice to get out of the apartment -- think I was going a little stir crazy.
Valerie: It was our pleasure, truly.
Isadora: Surprisingly.
[ Farkle narrows his eyes at Isadora. She matches the expression, causing him to crack and offer the ghost of a smirk. ]
Valerie: And you’ll be going back to Triple A after this weekend, no? Suppose this could be considered a trial run of some sort. A dress rehearsal!
Farkle: Yes, well, that will be a spectacle all its own, I’m sure. [ to Valerie ] Thank you, again. [ to Isadora, with a nod ] Isadora.
Isadora returns the nod, Farkle heading into the building through the revolving door. Valerie makes an expression at Isadora, raising her eyebrows.
Isadora, genuinely lost: What?
Valerie raises her hands in surrender, although the amusement doesn’t leave her features. Isadora obviously wants to question her, but the more they walk towards the subway the more emboldened Valerie becomes. Before they descend down into the station, she pulls Isadora aside and states there’s something she needs to tell her.
The reason that she came to stay with Isadora for the break wasn’t just because of everything going on here -- though that is part of it, and she’s happy to have been there for Isadora even if she can be a bit much.
Isadora: Well, I wouldn’t say --
Valerie: Oh, don’t try to sugarcoat it. I’m a big celebrity, I can take my share of critique. And I know we aren’t perfectly matched. I can be a lot, certainly more than you’re used to. But we’re improving, aren’t we? Every day.
Isadora can agree with that much. Valerie goes on to explain that she’s been doing a lot of thinking, much contemplation, and part of the reason she came to stay the week was to test the waters of their dynamic in long terms. Because... she hopes to try and get back custody of Isadora so that she never has to deal with this foster care business again. That, and of course, they can be a proper mother and daughter.
Isadora is shocked. At her stunned expression, Valerie quickly begins to articulate all the thought she has put into it. Naturally, she would only pursue it if it’s something Isadora would want… and does she think, maybe, it’s something she would want?
The moments that Isadora hesitates feel unbearable. Then, surprising even herself, she speaks.
Isadora: Yeah. [ a beat ] Yeah. It is. I would.
Valerie takes a moment to absorb it, realizing Isadora has said yes.
Valerie: Yes. Yes!
Valerie takes her hands excitedly, then remembers her discomfort with touch and pulls back. But Isadora mirrors her excitement, choosing to link their hands lightly again. Valerie brightens, launching into all of the wonderful things this could hold for them. Sure, it will require changes, and further understanding of one another as they go, but they have time for that. They have all the time in the world to figure it out.
Regardless, they will have one another. Decisively, like never before.
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Stone” as performed by Alessia Cara || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz & Valerie De La Cruz
Valerie launches into the song first, Isadora easing her way into the harmony. Their voices combine in a delicately powerful duet, accented beautifully with the scenery of Manhattan glittering in the night.
They make their way through the streets, somewhat dancing around one another but actually in step for once. Both of them are smiling as well, the true cause of how bright the evening feels.
INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Zay is grooving in his room to his own music, laying out and taking stock of all the auditions he went out for over break. He seems proud of himself, as he should be.
DONNA BABINEAUX knocks on the door, Zay stretching to turn down the music. She skims through the papers on his desk, asking what he’s been up to all holiday running in and out. He eagerly tells her all about the stuff he went out for, Donna brightening the more he discusses it. Once he concludes she exchanges a double high-five with him before pulling him into a hug, planting a kiss on top of his head until he manages to shrug away.
Still, Donna is far from oblivious. She innocently questions what brought on this sudden surge of ambition. Zay falters, just for a moment, then maintains his positive demeanor as he shrugs. He claims senior year is right around the corner. May as well start doing all he can to leave an impression.
For now, Donna leaves it be. She reiterates how proud she is of him one more time before telling him goodnight. Alone again, Zay glances at his desk spread again and another smile drifts onto his face. Settling on his bed, he reclines comfortably and shifts to looking at his phone, on instinct going to send a message to Charlie.
Once the message thread is open, however, he freezes. The searing reminder of the state their relationship is in hits him all at once, temporarily forgotten in the hustle of utilizing his spring break. So in some ways, his initial reason for setting out to break ground succeeded -- only it hurts far more to return to reality than he anticipated.
His fingers hesitate over the keyboard, totally at a loss.
INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
As it turns out, Charlie is feeling the exact same way. He’s at his laptop, message thread open with Zay and trying to figure out what to say. Obviously desperate to say something, but not having any idea how he could.
The indecision will remain for a bit longer. He avoids it again, exiting out of the messages and returning back to his browser. A few of the tabs he had open at school are on screen again, giving us a better look at what he’s actually investigating.
Other arts schools. Transfer applications. The one on screen is for Haverford Prep, but it’s just one of many. It would require a whole other round of auditions all over again, but it’s clear for some reason, he’s putting the option on the table.
Charlie may not fix his problems at all.
He might run instead.
INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY
Farkle opens the door for one final visitor, expression going blank when he locks eyes with Maya. She returns his stare, more prideful in her stature, but clearly there by choice.
Farkle, stunned: Maya.
Maya: … that’s my name, yes. So flattered you remember. [ a beat ] Are you going to invite me in?
Farkle: Oh, uh… yeah. Yes.
Farkle steps back, but Maya hardly waits for him to move. She breezes past him, Farkle somewhat dazed and low energy and nowhere able to battle with her this afternoon.
She enters the living room with more familiarity than any of the other classmates, eyeing the cocoon that Farkle has built for himself on the couch. The reality of his situation dismantles her bold facade, and she only minimally manages to repair it.
Farkle asks Maya how her break was, and she claims refreshing. She fires back the same question to him, and he shrugs indicatively towards the dent on the couch.
Farkle: I’m sure you can imagine.
She can. Silence settles between them, uncertain. Farkle breaks it first, launching into an apology with the same uneasy tempo as when he spoke to Charlie.
Farkle: You have every right to be upset with me. For everything I did. You should hate me, and I would understand it. I should never have let my jealousy dominate my actions, and furthermore, expose a secret you meant to keep under wraps. That you shared with me in confidence --
Maya, resigned: I don’t care about any of that, Farkle.
Farkle: … you… you don’t. You don’t care. No?
Maya hesitates, inhaling a breath. She searches for what she wants to say, crossing her arms.
Maya: The attempt to keep my... financial circumstances a secret was kind of a fool’s bet anyway. It had to come out eventually. And the video was far more embarrassing for you than me -- I think we can agree you more than paid for that.
Farkle doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he doesn’t interrupt. He’s more consumed by how great it is to talk to her again, how it feels to be back on the same page in some shape or form. No longer outcasted from her life, at least for a moment.
Maya: It was just… [ tentative ] I don’t have time to waste. I don’t have time to waste on people who aren’t worth the effort. And I thought -- I’ve had my experience with people who don’t keep their promises. I’ve had enough of it, forever, and so when you couldn’t be there for me and then twisted everything around, even when you said… even when we agreed to drop the antics…
Farkle, softly: I know.
Maya: So I thought the solution was the same. The last time someone hurt me this way, they left, and that solved the problem. I never had to deal with them again because they were out of my life. [ a beat ] Only I’m realizing that didn’t really solve anything. They’re gone, but the hurt is still there. Nothing about that situation is ever going to change, and it’s always going to hurt. Even with time.
Farkle: … but…
Maya: But… maybe, here, things could still change. If we make the right choices, better choices, then no one has to go. [ unusually fragile ] I don’t want you to go.
The additional meaning behind the sentiment goes without saying. Farkle swallows, realizing that the ball in his court now. Maya’s opening the door for him again, conditions attached, and he has to demonstrate that he’s capable of the privilege. That he’s capable of change.
So he tries to communicate it, in the best form of communication they know.
Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Thinking Of Him / I Miss the Music Reprise” as performed by Curtains Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Maya Hart
A direct parallel to Farkle’s former performance in 204, he kicks off the soft duet with sincerity.
Farkle: What was I thinking when I let you slip away? [ a beat ] Oh, yeah…
He admits all the ways in which he was selfish or misguided in the past year, culminating in that emotional and vulnerable declaration (“But why pretend? I missed the music, I missed my friend”). As Maya joins in, she eases her way back towards him. Both of them end up on the couch, singing in harmony for the first time in what feels like ages.
Maya wraps her arms around his, gently resting her head against his shoulder. A smile slowly blooms across his face, and he allows himself to tilt his head back against hers.
I choose the music I make with you, I love the music I make with you.
INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY
Upon return to school from break, Jack is back in his office and going through all of the new correspondence and paperwork that has piled up.
Lucas appears in his doorway, lightly knocking. Jack lifts his gaze, waiting for an explanation without a word. Lucas holds up the community service form, all filled out.
Lucas: Just needs your signature.
Jack nods, gesturing him in as he searches for a pen. Lucas waits patiently as he signs on the bottom to verify the hours, handing it back to him promptly. No praise, no congratulations. Just the expected transaction.
Lucas wasn’t expecting anything else. He folds the paper and starts to back out of the office, about to let that be that. But he hesitates, thinking about the past week and all of the other bold choices he’s had to make.
Lucas: I know I messed up.
Jack stiffens, not expecting there to be more either. He pauses to listen, leveling his gaze to watch Lucas. He keeps his expression politely neutral.
Lucas: Kind of seems like that’s all I do. And maybe it is. [ a beat ] But I’m going to try. I’m gonna make it right. I’m gonna make it up to you. I swear.
Lucas holds his gaze, not flinching away from the honesty. Meaning every word of it, and wanting it to be crystal clear.
Then he exits, not wasting another second. Jack stares at where he left, honestly not anticipating this earnest curveball. He has to blink to shake it off, the process of being emotionally removed no longer so plain and simple as it should be in theory.
He settles into his desk, aiming to distract himself via work instead. As he opens his desktop and goes to their email server, a message in his inbox seems to catch his attention. It’s from Evelyn Rand, school board member, and the subject line is a true attention-getter.
“Did you see this?”
Jack opens the email, skimming the message. From what he can tell, Evelyn has forwarded him a complaint that was filed with them over the course of spring break. It’s leveled against AAA, and the last line of her email stands out in particular.
“They intend to go public with this, from what I understand. What are you planning to do?”
Jack’s neutral demeanor is long gone. He frowns as he opens the attachment she’s sent, waiting impatiently as the compiled report on the complaint loads up. It’s a boisterous, flashy campaign against AAA for their “unfair enrollment procedures,” highlighting how personal favors and “special cases” gain coveted spots rather than hard-working, well-deserved, young talent willing to put in the effort and pay the price of admission.
It’s a smear tactic if there ever was one -- filed by a very indignant family -- but the tactic itself is hardly what causes the concern on Jack’s face. It’s the subject they’ve chosen to be their pièce de résistance, the perfect example of how “corrupt” and “unmerited” the current enrollment is.
Lucas James Friar. His school portrait staring back at Jack from the center of the complaint, promising to be the unwitting key talking point for what might very turn out to be an unpleasant and loudly public Bradford temper tantrum.
Break time is definitely over.
END OF EPISODE.
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fanaticwritings · 5 years
Text
smoke and mirrors [chapter 1]
The Streetcar named desire
pairing: tom holland x fem!reader
word count: 2k
warnings: smut, profanity
updates: saturdays!
a/n: i am reuploading this fic cause tumblr messed up big time the first time. anyway, i didn't plan on writing a lot of smut but my hand slipped (oops) so please don't read after the warning if you're underage. also, others, let me know if I should include more of it! happy reading!
___
You hummed sleepily as you felt warmth encompass you; the warmth undoubtedly being Tom's body. You felt his chest press against your back, felt his arm slide under your stomach and pull you close. 
"Mornin' love," you mumbled into the pillow. 
You didn't really want to wake up. Tom's touch, the covers, his room were all too warm and far too comforting. For a moment you could pretend you didn't have responsibilities and expectations to live up to. It was just you and him. Him and you. A perfect forever. 
You were almost drifting off again when you felt Tom's fingers push one of your bra straps aside and then, a moment later, his plump lips kiss your shoulder. 
"Morning," he whispered hoarsely, kissing a trail towards your neck, before turning you towards himself. 
You blinked open one eye, gazing at his hazy form sleepily.  "I don't want to be awake yet."
Tom reached over to run his hand down your back. It was a soft gesture but you knew what he was up to. You blinked a couple of more times, albeit reluctantly as Tom's face cleared before you. His curls were in complete disarray, eyes crusty from sleeping in and lips puckered in a funny way. And yet, there were fewer things in the world, more adorable than him in this moment. 
Completely disregarding your comment, Tom decided to slide on top of you. 
You groaned in mock dismay as he settled down on you because you had to admit, the pressure felt wonderful. 
"Tom, what in the-," you began but were cut off by his lips gently pressing against your own. 
Morning cuddles were a daily ritual with Tom. You never got enough of them. 
"I'm so lucky," he murmured once you broke apart. He was now half on top of you and half on the bed, one arm propping his head up beside your own.
He looked at you fondly then, trailing a lazy finger down the length of your arm. 
You brushed a curl of his hair aside, smiling. 
"Oh, so we're in that mood today."
"What mood?"
"The I'm-going-to-melt-Y/N-with-my-words mood."
He smiled. "I'm always in the mood for that, love," he retorted, squeezing your waist, which was where his hand now rested. 
"As much as I'd love to stay and hear everything you have to say about me, I- we- have work to do," you sighed, caressing his cheek gently. 
The reluctance with which you said it was even more evident when you didn't move to shift from under him. Not your fault, he was mesmerizing. God he looked beautiful above you; freckles and curls galore. 
"I hear ya," he whispered, nodding as his fingers slipped inside your underwear. 
You gasped. The nerve. 
You slapped his arm gently, almost wanting to give in to his obvious desire but, but, work. 
He pouted at you, clearly disappointed. 
"You could spare two minutes. I promise I won't take long," he mused, suppressing a grin. You noticed that his fingers were still resting on your hip bone. 
Why, o' heaven's above, did this man have to make everything so difficult? 
"You wish," you said, biting down your lip to stop yourself from blushing at his cheekiness. You shifted a little under him, trying to find wriggle room to escape. 
"Get off!," you huffed, when he didn't budge. 
Tom looked at you for a long moment and then sighed, lifting himself off of you and sliding onto the bed. 
"When will I see you next?" he asked, as you rose from the bed and headed towards the shower. 
"Tonight."
"That's a," he glanced at the tiny alarm clock on the bedside table,  "- whole fourteen fucking hours."
You looked at him for a moment, his puppy eyes almost getting the better of you. But two years was good practice enough and you shook your head. Besides, it was fun to watch him suffer. 
"Patience, Holland."
*
Some days at the Corp were just plain boring. Nothing of consequence happened on such days, you had to merely sit through the whole day, attending meeting after meeting to discuss short plans. These meetings you could easily avoid but you were a dedicated worker. 
The Corp was where it was today because you had never slackened. 
After finishing the third meeting for the day, you settled back into your office, scanning through your mail to reply to some of the pending ones. 
Just as you hit send on one of the replies, there was a knock on the door. 
"Hey," Lucas Valdez, your PA, entered holding a large number of envelopes. You smiled at him as he placed them on your desk. 
"Thanks. How'd the date go yesterday?" 
"He was a total bore," he said, shaking his head in disappointment and his curls flopped on his head. 
"Aw, I'm sorry! Don't worry, you'll find someone nice soon," you said, handing him a few files. "Also could you please send these to Lopez, Sharma and Phil for me? I need them to meet me."
Lucas nodded in confirmation and politely left. 
You decided to go through the post as well because it was a boring day anyway and nothing could possibly bore you more.
You quickly leafed through them; a couple of advertisements, a few job applications (you kept those aside) and one small, plain envelope. There was no name on it, no stamp. 
Huh. Strange. 
You grabbed the letter opener and sliced the envelope open. A smaller piece of paper slid out of it. 
The material looked quite expensive and vaguely familiar. Your eyebrows furrowed as you picked it up. It felt like it was an office paper but you couldn't be sure.
You turned it over. Written in a perfect, cursive handwriting and neon red ink were the words:
"Nothing is as it seems." 
Something you know too well with the secrets you keep, 
As you sow, so shall you reap, 
Learn, lest you fall, 
Beware, take from you, I will all. 
You read it once, twice.
Now, you were a pretty famous public figure. Getting hate mail was a part of the job description but that didn't make it any easier.
The poem left you feeling just as uncomfortable as others had before. Nevertheless, this was still new. People were rarely this poetic in them. 
What secrets were they talking about? If they meant you and Tom.. 
As if on cue, your personal phone chimed with an incoming notification. 
Tom <3
I'm at your place. 
Fourteen hours. I'm counting. 
You smiled in spite of yourself and clicked the phone off, deciding to leave him on read. More the suffering, the better. 
You glanced back at the note, the uneasiness settling over you once again. What could they be possibly talking about? If it was a hate mail it was unnervingly vague. And if it was someone's idea of a cruel joke, it was working. 
Just then someone knocked at your door again and you hastily pocketed the note. It was Lopez,  Phil and Sharma. 
You blinked at them, struggling for a split second to remember why they were here. 
Get a hold of yourself. 
You smiled, recalling that you were the one who had asked for them. As they say down and began talking, you did your best to push the words to a far corner of your mind, the left side of your pants feeling strangely heavy. 
*
[smut warning]
You found Tom in the living room that was attached to the kitchen, talking to someone on the phone. He motioned to you that he'd take a couple of minutes and you nodded, slipping inside the kitchen. 
Your cook had, as always, laid out a scrumptious meal for you and Tom to down. You had barely opened the lid to the first bowl when Tom called from behind you. 
"Your fourteen hours are up, Miss."
You turned to him, holding the bowl of pasta in hand. He was dressed in a plain white tee and your favorite grey sweatpants. 
"I've still got half an hour left," you said nonchalantly, picking one piece of pasta and popping it into your mouth. 
Tom watched you chew it slowly. It was completely involuntary that you let out a moan at the warmth that spread through your chest; you were actually famished. 
"That's it, you little shit," Tom muttered under his breath and the next thing you knew you were being pushed against the counter, Tom's hands working down your body in a frenzy. He unbuttoned your shirt faster than you could process and chucked it to the floor. In another swift motion, he pulled off his own shirt as well before pulling you close again. His lips slammed against your own and then you couldn't really think at all. You moaned as he ground his hips into you, his hardening length pressing against your abdomen. You let your hands wander to his hair as he continued to grind into you, your knees already giving way under you. Warmth filled the base of your stomach as you slackened against him, mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut. 
Just as your hands moved to his neck, he stopped, dragging his lips to your ear. 
"I'm going to finish what I started and you're not going to say a thing," he grunted, his voice dropping low. 
Before you could respond however, he'd turned you around and pushed you further up against the counter. You could feel him press against you, your shoulder blades digging into the hard muscle of his chest. 
He thrust one hand into your pants and under your panties, fingers finding your wetness immediately. 
His lips attached themselves to your neck and then he began to work you. 
You moaned loudly as his middle and index finger dipped inside your already aching core and began to scissor their way through. His lean fingers knew exactly how and what to do and you immediately collapsed against him, groaning. He twisted and squeezed at your clit as his lips sucked hard on the skin of your shoulder. A flick of his wrist made you buck against him and you heard a deep chuckle rumble behind you. 
Fuck. 
Tom loved marking you. It wasn't good sex until you'd woken up with a few hickeys all over your back and chest.
Meanwhile, his other hand had unhooked one half of your bra and cupped your breast, thumb playing with your nipple. Your senses were in overdrive. You could smell his cologne; hear him panting in your ear as he pushed against you; feel his touch inside you. And God, nothing had ever felt this good. 
You groaned as his fingers worked their magic, sliding further up and towards the spot he knew would tear you down. He moved faster now, the friction pushing you closer and closer towards the edge just as he started grinding against you again. 
The sensation was a bit too much and you weren't even aware of the moans that tumbled out of your mouth as you gripped the back of his head and fucked his fingers. You bit down on your lip, to stop yourself from screaming his name. 
"Come for me, darling," he whispered, his voice dripping with lust, fingers moving with a pace you couldn't keep up with. 
And just like that, the ground slipped from beneath you, the world erupting in colors before your eyes. 
"Fuck," you moaned as pleasure rattled through your body. You spasmed as Tom's fingers slowed their movement; stopping all together as you came down from your high, panting heavily.
"I had to wait fourteen hours to do that. Told you you were missing out," he said as you leaned against the sink, still breathless. You watched him saunter back to the living room and plop onto the couch casually, as if he hadn't just fucked you senseless. 
You adjusted your pants and shirt, discarding your bra altogether. You reckoned you wouldn't really need it now. Legs still wobbly, you walked over to him and sat down on his lap, straddling him. 
He looked up at you, eyes still dark and hair an absolute mess. 
"I'm sorry you had to wait, baby. Let me make it up to you," you murmured locking your lips with his, the tiny note inside your left pant pocket, long forgotten. 
___
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faean · 4 years
Text
Adamance of a Dragon
Collaborator: @i-am-here-with-fanfic.
Rating: T; I am too tired for this.
Word Length: 2,138
Chapter 7: So, It Begins
Author’s Note: Terribly sorry about the delay and apparent inactivity. It has been a... curious few months. Fortunately, I am back. And I intend on staying, my filthy heathens.
                                                       _________                                                      
           “Amazing… I’ve never seen a Quirk like yours so up close. I mean, I’ve seen some heroes who have Quirks that allow them to use magic or have mythological references but they’re usually vigilantes and most of them happen to be European or in the Americas due to the media coverage although there’s the Dragoon Hero but-”
           “Deku, you’re muttering again. It’s honestly kinda creepy.” Uraraka mentioned as we ate our lunches.
           My little clover was quite the adept interviewer; he had been asking me questions about my Quirk every chance he got since the deal we made before homeroom. My interest was piqued when I suggested an equal trade of knowledge regarding our Quirks and that seemed to rattle him as he began spewing excuses. It was…
           Curious.
           Instead, we settled on my answering any question he asked me regarding my Quirk within a twelve-hour time period and, in exchange, I was allowed to read through all thirteen notebooks of his. My little clover was ecstatic, especially when he learned of how the trade works. While his questions were open and any one can understand them, my answers could be heard by Midoriya Izuku alone; to anyone else it was as though I did not say a word.
           A similar effect would happen when my little clover recorded my answers in his notebook. Were Uraraka and Iida to attempt to look over at his journal and ‘sneak a peek’, all they would see were strange scribbles; however, it appeared as his own writing to Midoriya. He was indeed free to share that information if he desired, and the writing would become clear to those who know of my Quirk, like Aaron.
           Also, I did have to revert to my natural form to make the deal and stay in it for as long as our deal lasts, which startled a few of our classmates. Many of their reactions were warranted, although being referred to as a ‘winged devil’ by Mineta was a phrase I…have become accustomed to, as unfortunate as that may be; however, there were a few compliments, which was… Well, it was certainly welcome, to be honest. Praise was not given lightly back in the college, and I was expected to perform exceptionally in spite of my young age.
           Especially because of my age.
           Either way, I had handled the comments by my classmates quite well. Assuming my backing into a corner and trying to quell the stream of questions aimed towards my appearance as I tried not to knock anything or anyone over with my wings and tail counts as ‘handled well’. Fortunately, Aizawa arrived and ordered us to get into our seats.
           “I think that covers everything…” My little clover trailed off as he looked at the filled pages.
           “Of course. I shall-”
           “Oh!” My little clover exclaimed. “I completely forgot to ask about the magic part of your Quirk; I spent all my time on your Quirk mutations and draconic abilities! Magic type Quirks are already rare, but to have one with your dragon Quirk is crazy! What sort of magic are you capable of using? Or do you have your favorite types that are better suited for certain conditions? And what sort of energy do you use to power it? Is it life energy, or mana, or do you have something-?”
           Iida quickly cut Midoriya off, trying to establish some sense of order as he rambled query after query, not giving me a moment to respond. “Midoriya, please. I’m certain you have many more questions, but Nadal does need some time in between each to give you an adequate answer.”
           “Several things: Firstly, Iida, while I do appreciate and understand your intentions, do not ever speak on my behalf. As for the questions, our deal was that I would answer every question Midoriya has until 7:52 tonight, so long as it pertains to my Quirk. Unfortunately, I am afraid we will have to continue another time, Midoriya.”
           With that, I took my leave, much to the confusion of the trio; I had a few different errands to run before lunch ended.
           I deposited a small note in Aaron’s locker to notify him that I will pick him up after school by the main gate.
           I stopped by the principal’s office to drop off my application for work-study.
           Finally, I…
           There was a small rune etched into the door to the 1-A classroom. It was the Celtic symbol for ‘vital fire’ and ‘fate’, “Nyd”. It was jarring to see her call sign here. Of course, while incredibly important to me, it was just that.
           Important to me.
           With a simple snap of my fingers, the rune disappeared, and I entered the empty classroom with a single thought in mind, ‘Soon…’
                                                       _________                                                      
           “Oh, gods no.” I muttered as All Might proceeded with the lesson.
           We were all dressed in our hero costumes in preparation for the first lesson in hero training. Of course, as we were exiting the classroom with our costumes, All Might requested I ‘hang back for a moment.’ As with Aizawa during the apprehension test, I received different instructions. Rather than participate in the ‘Battle Trials’, I would offer insight on every match, helping to mark my classmates and provide advice on how they could better themselves in future lessons.
           No doubt making use of my previous experience in hero work, as well as the fact that I may or may not be less than keen on cooperation.
           “Now then! Before we begin with the first trial, I’d like to show you noobies a recording of a similar exercise to give you an idea on what is expected of you! I’m certain you may recognize at least one of the students in it!” All Might’s voice boomed as he played the recording I dreaded.
           It was of a simple training exercise the principal had me undergo in autumn last year with some of the second-year hero students. Honestly, I do not recall their names as readily as I should. Even with the recording, all I could remember was the odd trio of blond, periwinkle, and indigo hair.
           There was nothing spectacular about the mock battle, considering the second years had just recently gotten their provisional licenses and had barely begun training similar to what I had experienced. Our two opponents had a fighting style that heavily relied on melee combat while my ally for the match was long range, and my preference for mid-to-long range battle gave us the upper hand.
           Once the recording ended, All Might began the trials, and I began my analysis...
           After reprimanding him for being so careless with the first trial. Not even the most grizzled of professors back in the States would ever be so careless with their students; however, U.A. and Japan are vastly different from the college and America.
           The trials went by rather quickly, and some of my classmates attempted to converse with me. Admittedly, I did enjoy the company.
           Yaoyorozu was amiable and our shared insight was praised by All Might.
           Shouji was fairly interested in some of my abilities that were shown in the video, and Tokoyami was fascinated (enthralled?) by my navy and crimson wings, and the four horns sprouting from my head. Although, he did mistake my scales for being black.
           As usual, Todoroki was distant, but he did compliment my costume. He may have regretted it, though, as I immediately had to stifle a laugh when I first saw his.
           Asui was also rather friendly, and she was much more understanding about my reservations. We were even touted as ‘Blank Stare Pair’ given our base facial expression.
           I did not enjoy the company of Kaminari nor Kirishima; they were much to boisterous and handsy for my liking. Obviously, Mineta was less than respectable. And may or may not have a bruise on the back of his head after his blatant ogling of several of the female members of the class.
           In short, a fairly enjoyable afternoon. Of course, it did not last. Bakugou essentially threw a tantrum and barged out of the classroom some time after we finished the trials. As if on cue, Midoriya arrived from Recovery Girl’s office and then confronted Bakugou outside. It appeared to be a personal dilemma, so I avoided listening to their conversation as best I could. Until Midoriya confessed he obtained his Quirk from someone else.
           While it did pique my curiosity quite a bit, my attention remained elsewhere. I still have no idea why Aria requested I fly Aaron home and stay. Nor did I forget about the message from her, and what it entails.
           This is certainly turning out to be an intriguing day.
                                                       _________                                                      
           “Who… who is my dad?” 
           Aria looked down at her feet, trying to find her words. Finally meeting Aaron’s gaze, she answered the question he seemingly longed for. “Aaron… Your father… His name is Toshinori Yagi, better known as the Symbol of Peace- All Might.”
           I had to catch Aaron, his knees buckling from the revelation of his parentage. I helped him to the table, and Aria quickly embraced him, crying into his shoulder. After taking a few moments to fully comprehend the situation at hand, I heaved a long sigh as I realized what I must do.
           “I am not one for speaking when it is not desired, but I cannot, and shall not, lose another family. Mother, you clearly know you have done something awful, that alone is admirable, and you have spent so many years trying to right that wrong. It shows. I do not think Aaron would have wanted to model himself after you if you did not atone for your sin.” 
           My arms were open, and my lips donned a small, soft smile. Aria slowly stood up, her hand resting on Aaron’s shoulder for a few seconds before she leaned into my embrace, her head resting against my chest. I looked at Aaron, who stared blankly at the table.
           “Brother. I do not pretend to know what you must be going through. My parents may have been heroes, and my great grandmother instrumental in normalizing Quirks; however, your father is a symbol. That is not to be taken lightly, but please understand that you do not need to follow in his footsteps. I think Mum has made that clear over the years.” 
           Soon, Aaron joined us in the hug, and we remained that way for some time.
           “No matter what stories we may weave, or the tales we may spin, there is no fathomable way to avoid the truth. We must accept it, and while it may render us apart, it is only temporary. We are indomitable, and we will continue to grow and learn and better ourselves in ways we cannot begin to imagine. I have no doubt that we will have our share of disagreements but know this- For so long as my heart beats, it beats for the two of you.” 
           I had no more words to say, and I did not need to say anything else. Once we had the time to compose ourselves, I suggested Aaron spend the night with me. He would need some time away to figure stuff out. Aria agreed and went to go pack a bag for him, and I finished the brownies she asked me to make, leaving some for her as I put the rest in a parcel for Aaron and me.
           After finishing packing for him, Aria drove us to my house, saying goodbye and that she will pick him after school the next day. As we entered my house, Aaron spoke for the first time since learning about his father.
           “I forgot to tell her I love her…” 
           “Aaron…” 
           “Do you think she loved him? I mean, really loved him. She’s a huge fan, but I… I don’t know…” 
           I gave him another hug to reassure him that all will be well. Leading him upstairs to the guest bedroom, I suggested he bathe before getting some sleep. Planting a small kiss on his forehead and wishing him a ‘pleasant night’, I left him to his thoughts.
           Retreating to my bedroom, I showered and changed into my sweats and long sleeve. Once I was certain that Aaron was asleep, I made my way to the study. As I entered the room, my eyes scanned across the bookshelves burdened with books and mementos. I stood underneath the projector that hung from the ceiling, steadying my breath and focusing intently, my eyes tightly closed.
           A large magic circle came to life beneath my feet, slowly spinning and casting an ethereal glow of gold and silver throughout the room as my eyes shone with raw magical energy.
           Unbeknownst to me, neither Aaron, Aria, nor myself got any sleep tonight.
                                                       _________                                                      
Beta Reader, Collaborator, Owner of Aria and Aaron Granchester, and Creator of The Illegitimate Son storyline- @i-am-here-with-fanfic.
All right, again, I do apologize for the hastiness of this chapter, and my, well, procrastination; however, I do intend on staying active, and fulfilling requests once more. While I will start updating this story with @i-am-here-with-fanfic every other week, starting the 22nd, I will complete one request every week.
With that said... Enjoy, my filthy heathens!
6 notes · View notes
mirandadrawss · 5 years
Text
Chapter 1 Preview
 🕷😱
The scratch of hundreds of quills against rough parchment permeated the air around Obsidian. For what felt to him like the thousandth time, he dipped the tip of his Peregrine feather into the inkwell and swept his eyes over the final question.
Explain the importance of dialect and accents during incantations, including, how different accents affect a spell’s performance and if spells require variation based on region or location.
Oh boy, he thought. He fluffed the end of his quill against his temple as he struggled to recall the enthusiastic lectures of his Incantation professor. Obsidian had always had a hard time paying attention to the lectures about history and theory, in spite of Professor Drought’s passion. Drought fawned over the subject she taught and that carried over into her teaching style, but theory just wasn’t as intriguing as the practical application of magic. Why learn why something had to be said a certain way if you could just learn to say it right and have the spell work? And, while we’re complaining, why did everyone have to use quills? They were ridiculously expensive and ballpoint Bics worked just as well. Not to mention the incessant cacophony quills made when everyone was writing at the same time. Light from the runic stones floating overhead flickered off his indigo horns as he shook his head to himself. With a final dip into the ink, he began his answer.
When using incantations, the meaning and purpose of the Magikan is more important than the accent of the words.
It really irked him that he couldn’t just put Warlock, but the Inclusion Act the Academy had put into place required political correctness in all official schoolwork. As if someone would be offended by him writing about Warlocks specifically. Okay, they probably would be. But that wasn’t his problem. And come on, Magikans? Just because Magika was the official language of spells and basically anything magical they had to have the most stupid umbrella term for everyone who used it. He rolled his eyes and continued writing.
While pronunciation of the spell is still important, as long as the magic user holds firmly in their mind the end goal of the spell, the incantation will succeed regardless of the different accents that may be pronounced.
Sid read over the answer; not too shabby, and it might even be correct. He was at least 87 percent sure it was. He checked the pocket watch he’d laid out on his desk at the start of the exam, as black as his namesake, with molten hands that flowed around the face as the time passed. It’d been an early graduation gift from his mother, probably demonic in its design, but Sid absolutely loved it. Guess there were some perks from having a succubus as a mother. With fifteen minutes left until time was up, he put his quill back to the parchment and continued,
This only applies when using the universal language of magic, Magika, to speak the incantation. If a spell is spoken in the magic user’s native tongue, it will need to be read precisely and exactly.
Fanning the still wet ink with his hand, he chanced a glance a few tables to the left to where his best friend Chrysanthemum was sitting. She was sitting up straight, hands clasped in front of her, staring ahead. No surprise that she’d been done for a while, Chrys was the expert when it came to the theory of magic. And she was always so proper. Sid smiled to himself as he stacked his papers neatly and rolled them into a scroll, knotting some twine around the center. With a flourish of the Peregrine feather, he signed his name on the side of the scroll, Obsidian Damon Lux, and dropped his quill onto the desk, splotching it with remnants of ebony ink. Sid didn’t mind his name, all things considered. He was just grateful that his mother, Jezebeth, hadn’t named him Satan or Hell’s Son or something absurd like that. He was just loath to admit that his last name came from the Luxor hotel in Las Vegas where Jez had given birth, after yet another tryst with an unsuspecting mortal. Succubi becoming pregnant had been unheard of until Sid entered the picture. Most Warlocks were the product of male demons impregnating mortal women, but Jezebeth had been the exception. She didn’t even know who the father was, since she had no idea how long she was pregnant for and had been doing what succubi do best for the entire time; a profession she had kept up even with a child following her around. He’d been near enough to his mother’s seduction practices to be able to practice them himself had he wanted, and he’d spent most of his teen years in another dimension that was home to demons and the Dark Lord himself, to whom he’d conveniently been sworn during an anti-christening ceremony. But he was as normal as demon spawn come and had luckily been born with normal features, not counting the white-less violet eyes and the horns on his head that gleamed like the rock he was named after. Those features always seemed to get him the most friends when he was younger, at least until they introduced him to their parents. When he’d returned to the human dimension to start school, he got more hassle than he would have liked, so he’d taken to spiking his ash white hair and eventually dying it crazy colors to hide the protrusions on his head. He’d tried out sunglasses for a bit, but found that those brought an equal amount of stares, since no one really used sunglasses in the Portland gloom. Besides, Sid liked his eyes, and his true friends, like Chrys, had never seemed to mind.
“Quills down,” echoed the sharp caw of the exam proctor and almost instantly the scratching that had filled the air ceased. “Please leave your scrolls on your desk and exit the room. You will be informed of your results early this evening.”
If there was one thing that made a magic school better than regular university, it was that the grading was done by magic, which meant same day scores. Sid stood up and stretched, his back creaking like a storm-worn cellar door. He made his way towards the exit, detouring to fall into step beside the freckle-faced honey blonde female Sid called his best friend.
As if on cue, Chrys began her routine post-exam rant. “I really think I messed up that question about Werewolves and Vampires. And the one about staffs versus wands. I definitely failed. There’s no way they’ll award me my title. I’m going to have to retake this entire year! My apprenticeship will go down the drain and I’m going to look like an imbecile if I have to apply again.”
Sid sighed. He had nothing but love for the girl next to him, but she severely underestimated her smarts. He interrupted her panicked speech, “You did fine, Chrys. If even I feel like I’m going to pass, there’s no way in Hellatia that you failed.”
Sky-blue met black and violet as Chrys turned to look at Sid. Her nose was slightly crinkled in a look of consternation, but soon gave way to a grin. “Alright, alright, I suppose I can’t have done worse than a blockhead like you.” She pushed his shoulder playfully, a hint of longing flitting across her eyes. “I don’t know why you always say Hellatia. You could just say Hell like everyone else, silly.”
“But, for the fifty thousandth time, there’s not a place called Hell! Trust me, I spent way too much of my childhood in Hellatia and every”
“Every demon was very clear that Hell is not a place and they made sure that you knew it. I know, I know. I’ve heard you rant plenty of times. But even so, isn’t it easier to just say Hell? Even just as an abbreviation?” Sid opened his mouth to retort, but Chrys carried on with a grin, “So, where should we wait out the final scoring? The library?”
An exasperated sigh escaped Sid’s lips. “I don’t want to see the inside of a library for a century at least. And after that misery I could use a good burger. Shake Down sound good?”
Chrys gave a contemplative nod and they walked out the gates and past the ‘Portland Academy of Magic’ sign that morphed into ‘Portland Academy of Arts’ as they left the grounds and headed to their favorite restaurant.
“You know, once I’m actually a Warlock, I can glamour myself the way the school does so I don’t have to get stared at everywhere we go.” The two of them were standing in line, staring up at the menu above their heads, Sid trying to ignore the sidelong glances from everyone around him.
“Oh ya? You could just make everyone see a regular boring guy? Where would the fun be in that?” Chrys retorted. Sid was glad she didn’t mind the staring. They moved to the front of the line and the cashier, used to Sid’s slightly odd appearance, gave them a smile of recognition.
“The usual?” Ty the Shake Guy asked. That wasn’t really his title, but since becoming regulars, Sid and Chrys had dubbed him accordingly, seeing as he was there every time they came in. A synchronized nod came from the odd couple and Matt called back a triple decker, rare done, Avalanche burger, a double cheeseburger, and two chocolate and banana shakes.
Before Ty could tell them the total, Sid handed over the exact amount. “Pleasure doing business as usual sir,” Sid said, giving a mock salute. Chrys, polite as always, thanked Ty and they sat down to wait for their food. The adrenaline they’d felt from the exam drained from them as they sat down and a companionable silence took over until the food was brought to the booth. Sid’s order was an almost bleeding mess of patties and cheese and sauces barely staying on the bun and Chrys’s was a neat, normal, double cheeseburger. Chrys had somehow gotten used to Sid’s strange eating habits a while ago, but she did avoid looking directly at the monstrosity on his plate. Apparently growing up around demons gives you a preference for less cooked meat. Sid never really talked about how this had come about, and Chrys was wise enough to not ask.
The burgers were gone in a matter of seconds, leaving the two of them blissfully sipping their shakes. Chrys absentmindedly stared out the window, and the early summer sun glinted off her hair, haloing her in a golden aura. Sid looked up from the chocolate banana goodness, and broke the silence. “So what’re we going to do once we’re officially graduates?”
Chrys looked over at Sid, “You mean besides take over the world?” Laughter leaked out from both of them at their ongoing inside joke, and in between giggles, Chrys said “Well, I have a position with the Department of Magical Studies lined up. It might just be an apprenticeship, but I think it’s going to be a really great learning experience.” Chrys’s tone reflected the shadow that had crossed Sid’s face, “what is that look for?” “Well, um…I might have forgotten to look into something like that.” Sid trailed off and stared intently down his straw and braced himself.
“You didn’t find an apprenticeship?” Chrys gaped at him in disbelief. “They’ve been harping on us all year about that! It’s the most important part of our education. You can’t become a High Mage or Warlock or, well, anything, without it.”
More words spouted from Chrys, but Sid couldn’t hear them. He hadn’t purposely forgotten, he’d just assumed he’d have time. Even when Chrys was telling him about all of her interviews and offers she was receiving, he still thought he’d have more time. Funny how it always slips away like that. And now here he was, about to be an apprentice Warlock without an apprenticeship. Chrys was right, you couldn’t do much without completing an apprenticeship, at least not much legally. And being an unlicensed Warlock was definitely frowned upon, if not illegal in most cities.
“Sid, SID!” Sid was pulled from his pool of inner turmoil as Chrys laid a perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder. “You stopped listening to me didn’t you.”
He looked up at her, her face a mask of freckled concern. “Ya. Sorry. I totally spaced getting something figured out. I just, I thought I would have more time. What am I gonna do? My mom’s already going to be disappointed if she finds out I’m not going to be performing blood sacrifices to the Dark Lord every day, let alone if I���m not even a real Warlock. What do I do?” He really didn’t know and he looked pathetically across the table at his best friend who had everything figured out. And while he hated asking for help, he was at a loss.
Chrysanthemum straightened into her take-charge stance and in one smooth arc she was out of the booth and dragging Sid with her. “We’ve got to check the bulletin board. There’s got to be a Master Warlock who’s as much of a procrastinator as you are.” As she went on listing all of her backup, last ditch, worst case scenario, contingency plans, Sid brightened as much as an almost Warlock with no prospects being dragged down the street by his best friend could. Leave it to Chrys to be willing to figure out plans A through Z, even if it was his own fault. It was something he loved about her. She was so selfless and willing to help anyone who needed it, especially the people she cared about.
They didn’t slow until they were nose to nose with the bulletin board just inside the massive oak doors of the school. Now this wasn’t just any bulletin board. It was The Bulletin Board. In addition to being the center for local posts, it was a magical conduit for Magikans around the world. Similar boards existed in nearly every magical loci, whether a school or government base, even some select personal facilities could have access to it. A Magikan could post something on a board in one place and the same post would be reflected on the board in all relevant locations. It was by far, the best place to look for apprenticeship availabilities so of course this was where Chrys and Sid found themselves.
To both their disappointments, the board was sparse. An ad for some used textbooks, a tutor request and a lost familiar sign were all that lingered on the magical surface. The blossoming hope that Sid had felt at Chrys’s enthusiasm died as he stared at the empty board. Nothing. Not a single job posting of any kind. He could feel the sinking of Chrys’s mood as she stood next to him. “Well, we could…,” Chrys struggled to come up with an alternate option. Sid knew she’d been counting on the board, even with all of the backup plans she’s been coming up with on the way here.
“It’s fine Chrys. I’ll figure something out, promise.” He strained a smile as the halls around them filled with a familiar cawing voice.
“Attention all students. Final grades are now available in the Grand Hall. Report there to pick up your reports. If this is your final year, please also be prepared to submit your apprenticeship acquisition forms to the advisors upon receipt of your final report. That is all.” With a squawk, the voice was gone and a feeling of dread began creeping up from Sid’s feet.
“They need the apprenticeship information now?” He squeaked, looking exasperatedly at Chrys. “What are they going to do if I don’t have anything?”
“Well, I mean, I don’t think they need it right away,” she hesitated. “They just want to make sure they get things in order sooner than later. I’m sure they’ll have some good advice for students that don’t have anything lined up. Ya, let’s go now. Then we can get you in to talk to someone before everyone else storms the hall.” And without further preamble, she headed down the cavernous hallway towards the Grand Hall, purpose echoing in every step.
“Okay, I guess that’s,” Sid started to say, but cut off as a shred of hope flickered into existence on the bulletin board. He grabbed the paper as soon as it had fully materialized and read it closely.
Apprentice needed. Practical skills a necessity. Be prepared to demonstrate these during interview. Report to Devlin Smokeshard at 98 E NE Street between 4PM and 8PM on the 21st of May.
Sid stared at the scrap in his hand in disbelief. Today was the 21st. Digging his empty hand into his jeans pocket, he pulled his pocket watch out and checked the time. 4:30. This had to be the best luck Sid had ever had, even over the time he’d gotten out of a presentation on fungi because he had ingested some of the sample he’d been reporting on and ended up with a terrible flu for a week. If he left now, he could hopefully make it back before anyone noticed, and with a job to boot. Sid turned on his heel and headed back through the Academy doors, pulling up the UrWay app on his phone and ordering a ride share to take him to his lifesaver.
Thanks to traffic, it was an hour later when they arrived at the address, a run down looking building with a solitary, cracked, street light at the end of the front walk. Sid got more than the usual weird look from his driver as he stepped out and looked around. The car sped off in a squeal of tires as he took in just how terrible the place looked. Weeds sprouted from every crack in the walkway and vines covered the front wall of the house entirely. The one window he saw was cracked and on the whole, it had the appearance of a ‘condemned for the past hundred years' building. From the corner of his eye he thought he saw the streetlight flicker purple as he walked past, but he chalked it up to his nerves. “Well, I don’t really have a better option do I?” He asked no one in particular as he made his way to the front door. When he raised his hand to knock, the door opened wide on its own and Sid jumped about a foot in the air.
The view of the inside wasn’t much of an improvement. Everything looked moth eaten, moldy and termite ridden. Or at least what Sid assumed termite ridden wood looked like. He supposed this was what he got for putting it off so long. Of course he’d end up apprenticing in a garbage heap. He took one last gulp of fresh air and stepped over the threshold.
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Ape To Mp3 Free Obtain
Pazera Free APE to MP3 Converter is a software that may convert Monkey's Audio (APE) into compressed MP3 recordsdata. 6Easy to use. Just one click of the button! Clear-reduce interface options giant icons for performing all main actions. Directly convert audio recordsdata without any non permanent recordsdata. Apart from APE, many different audio recordsdata are supported by this APE to Google Music converter, akin to WMA, WAV, M4P, M4A, M4B, AAC, and so forth. Use the Converter device to change media information from one format to another. For example, you may batch convert WAV files to MP3 or Windows Media format or vice-versa. You may as well use the tool to change the standard degree or bit rate of present MP3 or Home windows Media information.
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A: You'll be able to convert your APE files to the popular MP3 format. It's wonderful that there are purposes like this one that are completely free. The applying is very good for conversion between audio codecs. A handy feature is the Pre-set Editor, which preconfigures totally different file formats for various gadgets. These could be chosen rapidly from the High quality menu. It additionally helps batch conversion, which may prevent tons of time if you have got multiple videos to convert. I would like a ape->mp3 converter, since the mp3 participant does not assist ape. PowerISO will start converting the flac recordsdata to MP3 format. You can see the detailed progress information when converting. Click the "Open folder" button to access the converted FLAC files through Windows Explorer. Faasoft DTS to AC3 Converter , a professional but simple-to-use DTS Converter, has the power to easily convert DTS to just about all types of widespread audio codecs like DTS to AC3, DTS to MP3, DTS to WAV, DTS to AAC, FLAC, AIFF, AU, MP2, RA, M4A, Apple LossLess, etc with zero quality loss.
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In distinction, MP3 is a typical audio format which employs a form of lossy knowledge compression to make the file smaller. In spite of the fact that it discards audio knowledge and high quality to save lots of area, MP3 file supplies sound high quality that is passable to most people like me who do not have golden ears. What's more, multimedia units help it. Relating to people who don't count on too much increased high quality about the music, the conversion between APE and MP3 is a superb choice. Let's examine tips on how to convert APE to MP3 after taking all factors discussed into consideration. You can also search the assistance of an all-goal media conversion software with a purpose to convert your CUE files to MP3. Magic APE to MP3 Converter is an ideal example for such a device. This audio conversion device is produced by DVDVideoSoft and it is supplied for free. It's appropriate with virtually all the popular audio media information. Freemake Audio Converter can for certain run on Home windows 10, eight, and 7, and is more likely to work with older variations too. Adapter is a small video, audio and image file converter that can convert to and from any file format. Free Audio Video Pack is a collection of portable audio and video converters which lets you convert between all most popular audio and video codecs like AVI, MP3, MP4, FLAC, MOV, WMV, WMA, FLV, 3GP, OGG and extra. WebM is an video format which consists of VP8 video and Vorbis audio. It offers open video compression for HTML5 videos and most major net browsers help WebM as a part of HTML5 video delivery. WebM is an alternative to the patented h.264 and MPEG4 standards, and is appropriate for industrial and non-business functions. And within the following passage, we will cover largely in how you can convert ape to mp3 converter mac audio recordsdata to MP3 or other codecs, which may be played in some moveable and fashionable media gamers. Some need to be downloaded onto your laptop or Mac, whilst you can achieve with some online converters. Simply examine the desired solutions from the article now. The right WAV to MP3 Converter that has a free trial version is iSkysoft iMedia Converter Deluxe. This software program program is an audio converter that helps utterly completely different enter and output video formats. You possibly can enter codecs like WAV, MP3, APE, MKA, AU, FLAC, CAF and output file codecs like MP3, AAC, OGG, M4A, APE SD2 and AIFF. Assist Apple Lossless Audio Freeware get hold of of Superior MP3 Converter House home windows eight 1.1, measurement eleven.ninety Mb. The Converter dialog field exhibits the listing of information you might have selected and the currently selected conversion format. Click on the Change or Options buttons to open the Converter Settings and Encoding Settings With these settings, you possibly can select to encode to a different format, select a location for the newly converted file, choose to have each the unique and the brand new file or simply the brand new file within the database, and choose to skip over duplicate information. We did not find results for: APE To MP3 Converter. Strive the concepts beneath or sort a brand new query above. On-line adverts embody textual content, footage, and enhanced content material that Yahoo has been paid to put in sure places on Yahoo web sites. APE format (additionally called Monkey's Audio) is an algorithm and file format for lossless audio information compression, which is freely accessible to customers with plug-ins for playback on hottest media players. Boxoft APE to MP3 Converter is an one hundred% free and easy, lightning-fast and highly efficient audio conversion tool that allows you to to batch convert APE file to top quality MP3 audio codecs, It's geared up with a regular audio compressed encoder, you'll be able to choose bitrate settings and convert a number of recordsdata directly. Your overview will embrace your Yahoo ID or an alias or other account information you might have made public and will link to your profile. Use the pull-down menu to resolve on the alias you need to put up with. You may additionally create a brand new alias and profile. Click on Convert" to rework all APE info into MP3 format. Hello all, 1. I am on the lookout for the best quality device to transform APE, Flac, mp3 recordsdata to mp3, USING lame dll and APE, Flac. 2. a direct conversion with out altering to wav first, after which encoding agian to mp3. After the conversion is completed, you will hear an audio notification (besides the completed status displayed on the principle interface) and you can see your WMA audio recordsdata in the output folder offered at "Step three". You can manually browse your laptop or instantly open it by clicking on the "Output Folder" button from this system's menu bar. Changing APE recordsdata into WMA format with FormatFactory 3.3 (Freeware) might sound a bit complicated, at first, however, should you follow the step-by-step information, you shouldn't have any problem completing the task. If you wish to seek for other applications that can make it easier to with this conversion job, then be at liberty to browse the instruments found in the "Various Downloads" section.
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inputgarlic92 · 3 years
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Amazing Contemporary Society Restrictions Centered Surrounding Mobile Phones
Determine a new direction in friendships happening inside our society thanks partly to the huge usage of smart phones. So how are we transforming in our public connections with other people? If you want to take the best in our conduct we must start researching the modest alterations taking place each and every day. Although phones have already been innovative in assisting online social connections, they experienced detrimental effects offline. Face-to-face interactions have been split up and we are writing less real-life experiences, now more than ever. The location is the personal sensitive location we each inhabit, fashioned by our interactions with the environment around us. The significant overlap is a term used to describe the shared open area between a few individuals formed by their shared emotions. It really is these overlaps that type the basis of our interactions. The result smartphones have upon this overlap is clear. Our mobile phones essentially draw us out of our environment, resulting in less shared experiences during social connections and for that reason a smaller sized overlap. The structure of our social relationships are also changing. During on-line socializing, we are completely blind to the response and real-life feelings of your partner. In face-to-face relationships we use cosmetic expressions and various other non-verbal cues as reviews to help us understand more about the additional individuals internal monologue With out these physical cues, we should infer hints from just about any digital response we obtain. This may lead to misjudgment of others feelings and less shared experience as we have a smaller knowledge of the others very own experience. Phone use can also lead to long-lasting problems with offline human relationships. A brand-new research discovered that cell phone usage during an connection was frequently interpreted as a kind of rejection. Rejection can cause feelings of hurt, anger and resentment - decreasing self-esteem and mood. These feelings were related to lower relationship satisfaction and increased turmoil. Although cellphones can boost interaction, it really is evident they are interfering with this offline cultural interactions and decreasing the grade of our human relationships. Rejection within interpersonal interactions leads to lower self-esteem and signals of depression. Extreme cellphone usage during social interactions, therefore, could be destructive to your mental wellbeing by lowering the grade of associations. Not merely are cellphones affecting our relationships, the constant using these devices is causing identification problems. Modern smart phones possess loads of applications available to users with app use creating 81% of cellular time. Study conducted on social media marketing usage found that 65% of your time spent on social media is via phone applications. This implies that mobile phones are facilitating the usage of social media applications, which can be damaging to our social identities. Excessive social media usage is normally causing people to derive their self-worth using their social media following and likes. In todays world, people correlate a minimal social media pursuing and less loves with that person being relatively boring and unpopular. This way of thinking puts pressure on people to maintain an internet social media presence by remaining active on the phone and spending excessive time on social media marketing, a vicious cycle. The unlucky thing about the existing climate is usually that those who do not make use of their phone as much are being appeared down upon. Thoughts of belonging is a strong and expected facet of human being nature. Relating to social identity theory, we normally seek belonging within groups. People are progressively equating a minimal social media following with a lack of belonging, causing them to feel disconnected.
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A problem arises when folks are consumed by their social media marketing activity but usually do not receive the identification or appreciation that they expect. Another issue presents itself when those individuals cannot gain access to their social media marketing platforms. For instance, a video of a social media marketing influencer not long ago went viral just after her Instagram account was terminated. This member, who boasted over 100,000 fans, claimed that she is nothing without her pursuing and that it experienced like murder when her account was shut off. A Moderate post explored how mobile phones are taking advantage of an evolutionary dependence on acceptance. The author shows that smart phones contain various variable prize schedules, such as for example messages and social media likes that constantly draw us in. We are steadily seeking rewards from our smartphones, in the form of social media attention. A brand-new research supported the idea that excessive social media use can lead to emotional and mental medical issues. Self-conflict theory may describe this effect. Our online presence is supposed to be always a representation of our real self. Nevertheless, given the fact that we mostly display only our positive characteristics online, our profiles are actually an improved representation of our ideal self. Therefore, those that tend to promote themselves more positively through their social networking channels may merely be displaying their high levels of self-discrepancy. So presently there you have it. Regular cellphone use may damage our relationships and cause us to feel as though we dont belong - triggering feelings of low self-esteem and despair. They also facilitate excessive social media use, which can often result in discrepancies between our ideal and real self. These feelings also result in a lower self-esteem, feeling and opinion of ourselves and in addition increasing our likelihood of feeling depressed. This blog post isn't an attack on smartphones, as I am among the many who are guilty of the excessive usage of my mobile phone. Consider this a warning of the problems of excessive smartphone use. In future, when you are conversing with somebody in person, place the smart phone down! In spite of what is usually on your display can wait. We must treasure our face-to-face interactions and be pleased with who we are actually rather than seeking acceptance through the over-use of our mobile phones. As I mentioned before, I do not want this post to be considered an attack on smartphones. Digital society has simply educated me about the prevalence of technology within our everyday lives. Not merely regarding smartphones, but especially learning about the web of Issues and Smart Metropolitan areas, I now have a better knowledge of the direction where the globe is headed. It really is quite obvious to see, we are destined towards another whereby technology is used in nearly every aspect of lifestyle, from self-service checkouts to driverless vehicles. Whilst these technological innovations are resolving everyday problems for all of us and producing existence more convenient, I wish to know how the use of technology is affecting the way we work as individuals in culture. As a Mindset student, becoming even more educated about how the globe is using technology has led myself to ask queries about the result that is having on our mental health. With the whole planet being controlled by technical devices, that is bound to have an effect on the dynamics of society. Given the fact that wise technology is a comparatively new phenomenon, we do not yet know much about how exactly it is impacting our lives. For instance, the Digital Engagement subject taught me about how exactly businesses are more and more using our online activity to advertise and advertise new products to us. This is unquestionably a implication of technical use, even as we are becoming brain-washed into spending money. Whilst that is a threat of smartphones, I needed to breach additional into the mental ramifications of technology on people. Smart phones, for me, encapsulate the digital culture we reside in. We are linked with one another in society through a small handheld device that can be taken with us wherever we move in our pockets. Though the problem is, that most of that time period these cell phones are not kept inside our wallets and we are spending additional time looking into our cell phones. Consequently, if cell phones represent the digital society, then the risks of phones might tell us more about the implications of living in a digital culture. Reading through several articles, I have been subjected to different opinions and viewpoints. Content articles and personal blogs have got helped increase my knowledge about technology, that i have been in a position to apply to different psychological ideas and concepts. Digital Society has allowed me to modernize my knowledge of environmental elements on emotional wellbeing. After all, if the environment around us can be changing - the way in which we are influenced by our environment will change too. The primary challenge for me was fine-tuning my academic writing method right into a blog post format. As a person who is used to writing in an average university assignment style, this has opened my eyes to a new way of writing. Although tough to adjust to in the beginning, I now enjoy composing blogs and have discovered that I feel much more in a position to express my personal opinions when composing them. referencia In fact, I look forward to composing more blog posts in the foreseeable future.
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