#and i liked that the first chat felt like a callback to that conversation he had about mc w diavolo in hard mode og season 3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

caffeinated-cryptid · 4 years

Text

patton and the no-good day

5.9k words | AO3 link | warnings: angst, alcohol, swearing, arguing, lashing out, minor injury, crying, fire, repetition.

“Patton wants to know what it’s like to make the right choices, so he tries...And tries. And tries and tries andtriesandtries-

(aka: a time loop fic where patton manages to revisit the day of svs, this time with the goal of making everyone happy. he quickly discovers that he's bitten off more than he can chew.)”

________________________________

Patton was unhappy. And he was unhappy because everyone else was unhappy. After the wedding, he had become so intimately aware of every mistake he had made. From Logan’s quiet dismissal when he tried to talk to him, to Virgil’s obvious avoidance of everyone, to Roman’s complete shutdown.

The only sides he could assume weren’t mad at him at the moment were Janus and Remus. And Remus was only a maybe, just based on how excited he’d been to hear that he had turned into a giant muscular frog alone.

Patton could only grimace upon recalling his breakdown. It was supposed to be the turning point for him, an indication of ‘Hey, I've come to realize that I’m deeply flawed but now I’m able to start fixing things!’. But of course, it didn’t turn out like that. Every day that passed only grew harder and harder with his mistakes staring him in the face. He was tired of waking up, dreading the insurmountable process of trying to make things right and failing, only to fall asleep and try again the next day.

It was like he was trapped in a loop of identical days, each one as ineffective as the last.

Patton could barely imagine the end of this tunnel, until one morning, he woke up and for once everything felt... different.

He ignored the feeling at first as got ready as usual, heading out towards the kitchen with the expectation of seeing empty chairs at empty tables once more. Except when he walked in this time, preparing to make a breakfast no one would eat, everyone was there already seated. It was just like how everything was before-- Janus and Remus were absent, but Logan, Virgil, Roman...all of the sides he considered his best friends were there, all togeher in one place for the first time in weeks.

He burst into tears on the spot and they collectively startled, immediately questioning what was wrong. It took a few minutes to convince them all that he was fine, that he just got emotional seeing them all because he loved them so much (which wasn't even a lie!), and in the end they accepted his explanation because sometimes that was just what Patton was like. As he sat down and tried to act as normal as possible, he couldn't help but stare at all of them, so carefree as they chatted and poked fun at each other. There wasn't a single furrowed brow, or a hidden frown, or a look of hurt. It was unfortunately because of that that he knew his gut feeling was right; there was something strange going on here.

Throughout the morning, Patton couldn’t put his finger on what was so familiar about this day until he felt a certain series of events occur: Thomas gets a call. He picks up the phone and talks with the casting agent for a famous director. He’s told that he got the callback for his audition and he’s terribly excited, so excited that his sides come out to celebrate with him and-

Oh. Oh! That was his cue, wasn’t it? Patton bit back a frown, rising up to share their excitement and then to remind them about the wedding that was scheduled for the same day. It was hauntingly familiar, seeing the way Thomas and Roman became dejected and knowing that this was only the start of an uphill battle.

And then Fauxgan came in- or rather Janus, disguised as Logan- and when Patton saw his new snakey friend, his chest swelled with excitement. This was his opportunity to change things! He knew that in the current script, Janus would soon reveal himself and begin pushing back against what Patton had said. So when that happened this time, he could simply agree and make it seem like he had been convinced to change his mind. That way, they could reach a different solution and everyone would be happy. Simple!

Patton watched and waited patiently as the others made comments back and forth; Virgil and Janus snarking each other as Janus made his case to be listened to.

“That...can not be where the bar is!” Virgil protested in disbelief once Thomas agreed to hear him out, based on his vague 'the enemy of my enemy is a friend' ideal.

“Well, the bar for skipping an important opportunity should be higher than a...social engagement.” Janus replied distastefully.

This was where he originally jumped in to disagree. Patton saw Roman grow shifty out of the corner of his eye and knew: this was it!

“Maybe Janus is right! This is a huge opportunity. We should try to figure out a way to make both events if we can, but this means a lot for Thomas so we shouldn’t just skip it.“ Patton said confidently, even though the argument felt strange coming out of his mouth. At least he knew this time around he was making the right choice by backing down.

But the others only looked at him strangely, with varying degrees of confusion across their faces.

“Who’s Janice-”

“You’re agreeing with him?! I knew you were acting weird-”

“How do you know my name-”

Patton’s eyes widened, realizing his subconscious mistake. He had gotten so used to referring to Deceit as Janus over the weeks that they’d been friends that his name just automatically slipped out. It was too late to take it back; the conversation was quickly derailed, with too many accusations coming out at once to even try geting back into the dilemma. At one point Janus wondered aloud if Remus had somehow gotten out and taken the form of Patton, which only raised more questions and ended with a sword pointed at his throat.

It was a disaster. They make the last-minute decision to go to the wedding out of spite for Janus and Patton.

________________________________

The next morning, Patton woke up with a start, looking around his room to find that it was exactly the way he had left it the day prior. Normally this wouldn’t be such a cause for alarm, but today it was because Patton was certain he had thrown a few things last night in childish frustration at himself for messing things up. Only soft items, because he couldn’t bear to accidentally destroy anything in his sentiment-filled room, but the fact remained that seeing his pillows lined up at the end of his bed again was a strange sign, one that had him suspicious about how this day was going to go.

To test his theory, he went down to the kitchen without bothering to change out of his pajamas, only to see the other three sides already sitting there in the exact same places as yesterday. He paused in the doorway, waiting for them to show recognition of the day prior-- for some kind of hostility or accusation. The only thing he received were snickers.

“Nice PJs, Pat.” Virgil smirked over his bowl of cereal before going back to scrolling on his phone.

Patton’s mind slowly processed this. It was as if the day had reset, back to the world he had woken up to yesterday. He sunk down into the last remaining chair and forced himself to make a joke about ‘having a PB&J sandwich to match this PJ day’, despite Logan’s protests that he would not be sharing the last jar of crofters (He always said this to deter them from eating his jam, but it was always a lie and he'd always let them have some in the end. Patton didn’t realize how much he missed that habit of his until he almost started crying again over Logan passing him the jam jar).

After a perfectly normal breakfast, he quickly returned back to his room to change and prepare for what was ahead of him. Now that he knew the day was definitely repeating and could recognise where he went wrong yesterday, he just needed to ensure he didn’t make such a silly mistake right off the bat again.

He went through the motions: Thomas getting a phone call, him reminding them of the wedding, and then the beginnings of debate.

“I agree with Deceit.” He said this time, smiling as he remembered to not use Janus’ name.

Despite his conscious effort, it doesn’t go over much better. Janus was surprised and suspicious of Patton’s sudden change of heart and Virgil immediately got on the defense. Once again, the argument quickly escalated.

“Why would you side with him?! He’s one of the others! You can’t trust him!” Virgil cried, hands tugging on his hoodie strings as he desperately tried to convince them. It was currently three against one. He must have felt cornered, having no one on his side, Patton realized belatedly.

“And how are you so sure of that?” Patton still responded back, feeling offended on behalf of his friend. He had promised himself he wouldn’t make things worse this time, but seeing Virgil get so angry at him hit a sore spot. As long as he was right about his theory, this day was already ruined the moment he sided with Janus, anyway.

“Because I was one of them!” Virgil yelled, and his expression quickly changed from frustrated to devastated to frightened. And then he sunk out, giving no one the chance to stop him.

The remaining sides stood in silence before Janus broke into hysterical laughter. Patton could hear it echo in his mind as the day reset for the third time.

________________________________

The next time, he didn’t bring up the wedding at all.

Patton didn’t want to kid himself; he was scared from seeing Virgil sink out so suddenly. After having Virgil’s anger directed at him twice and seeing him leave upset once, he figured that meant that outright siding with Janus was a risky thing to do if he wanted to make sure everyone was happy by the end of this.

So instead of trying to change his stance, he simply removed the confusing aspect out of the equation altogether and made sure no one remembered it or brought it up. This way for sure, he thought, everything would go a lot smoother.

...He was wrong.

Weeks passed after the phone call and everything was peaceful-- Patton didn’t experience any resets and he took this as a good sign, enjoying the time with his family which he had dearly been missing out on. The sides were excited for the opportunity, which only grew when the callback came and went and they aced it. It was like Patton had finally achieved the dream scenario, until one day later when Thomas summoned them with a horrified look on his face.

“I skipped Lee and Mary Lee’s wedding when I went to the callback.” Was all he said.

“...Huh? How is that possible?” Virgil asked, simultaneously looking like he was going to faint and/or run away. “That couldn’t have been yesterday, could it? I mean, the odds of that…”

“It was. However…” Logan spoke up, and everyone watched as he summoned his calendar, wearing baffled expressions when he pointed to yesterday’s date-- revealing that the wedding had never been written down at all. Thomas had somehow pushed it completely out of his mind.

“But...it was for a big opportunity! Surely they’ll understand if you explain why you had to miss the wedding.” Roman argued, glancing around at the panicking sides.

“That’s the thing, they’re upset that I didn’t tell them about it beforehand and they think I blew them off on purpose. Now all of our mutual friends think I only care about myself.” Thomas stressfully looked down at his phone as he got another text message- and not a very kindly-worded one at that. “I don’t know what to do to fix this!”

Patton paled. Surely that couldn’t be right. Could things really have gotten this bad, just because he hadn’t reminded them of the wedding?

“It looks like Thomas has become a social pariah.” A smooth voice cut in. “And I’m sure you all know who’s to blame.”

No-

________________________________

The next time, Patton woke up in tears, unable to get the image of Janus turning against him out of his mind.

This time he doesn’t try to avoid the debate. Debates were crucial; they were how they got through most of their problems! In retrospect it was silly to try and skip that part of the day altogether, but at least now he had a clearer idea of what to try next. The issue from the last attempt was that Lee and Mary Lee weren’t spoken to, so this time he’d back Roman up when he suggested communication.

When they were next able to arrange a meeting to talk, Thomas explained the situation to the couple; how he had gotten a last-minute once in a lifetime offer. They were excited for him and encouraged him to take the opportunity, but Patton saw it in their eyes, how they gave Thomas sad smiles and looked at each other with disappointment.

He panicked, and Thomas changed his tune, pretending to check his phone and coming to the ‘realization’ that he got the time wrong, that he could go after all.

Lee and Mary Lee were thrilled.

But the others hated him for it.

________________________________

The next time for sure, he thought he’d get the courage to do it right.

They talked to Lee and Mary Lee. Thomas explains the situation, and this time Patton doesn’t make him change his mind. They’re disappointed, but despite knowing this deep down Thomas stays firm and decides to go to callback anyway.

During the lead-up to the 13th of April, Roman keeps looking to him for guidance, asking if this was really alright. Patton tries to assure him, but even he doesn’t know. He feels like everything he’s doing is putting them on the right track, but after thinking he was doing the right thing and being wrong several times, he isn’t able to say for certain that they were making a good choice. Especially not with the unknown variable of Lee and Mary Lee's disappointment thrown into the mix.

Eventually Roman learns to stop coming to him with his fears, and when it comes to the callback he chokes during the performance. Thomas messes up and someone else gets the role.

They don’t get to go to the wedding or win the callback.

Roman ducks out the same day and Remus takes his place.

________________________________

The next time, Patton was overly aware of his lack of certainty. He hadn’t realized how close Roman had been to falling over the edge, so during his next attempt he can't help but keep it fresh in his mind.

Throughout the debate he makes sure to agree with the creative side. He didn’t oppose any of his arguments or call him out where he originally thought he was being selfish; he’s as kind and gentle as can be, haunted by what had happened one cycle ago.

It makes Janus upset. He knows Patton’s true stance and can’t understand why he’s silencing his voice so much for one side alone. He ends up pointing out how Patton is being underhanded by trying to use flattery to get things to go his way and then mentions how that must be how he's managed to keep everyone under his thumb for so long. Patton sees red.

It’s nice to get his steadily building frustration out. Perhaps Janus is an undeserving target of his anger, but the criticism just hit too close to home for him to accept lying down. He didn't want to be a manipulative person. He had been trying so hard to let others have their voices be heard and not seize control the narrative too much, but in the end wasn't that what he was doing now? Trying to manipulate everything, even if his motives were good? The realization had blood pumping in his ears, drowning out everything but his own voice.

Everyone becomes tense when he starts yelling and Janus only stares in shock, confused and oddly enough, hurt to be the focus of the usually happy pappy's wrath. Patton yells until his throat is hoarse, and then some more because he knows he can't damage his vocal chords here. He does it for Logan, who had been pushed aside almost every time they've done this. For Virgil, who had so many doubts and fears and was too afraid to share them until they become too much. For Roman, who was the most likely to get crushed whatever they did. For Janus, who was just trying to get a seat at the table. For Remus, who potentially never would.

For himself, who just couldn't get this right.

When he's done the room is so silent that they would have been able to hear a pin drop and he feels a weight off his chest. He's made his point, loud and clear.

Even though the others have no idea what he’s talking about.

________________________________

The next time, Patton wakes up feeling guilty for losing his temper, despite how cathartic it had been to let loose a little bit. He can’t look the others in the eye when he goes to breakfast, and instead spends the whole time in his head, trying to figure out what to try next.

This time he decides to soften his voice. He already knows it’s a mistake based on prior experience, but he doesn’t know what else to do-- doesn’t have the time to consider any other approach to take before Thomas is getting that phone call once again.

Throughout the debate, his statements fall short. He lacks conviction. He subtly tries to side with Janus and Roman, but not to the extent where it makes Virgil upset, and it only makes him look flakey. He’s flimsy; uncertain, and everyone can tell. He can practically feel Logan’s desperation to take his place from the back row.

In the end, Thomas is convinced that he’s a completely horrible and selfish person due to Patton’s lack of assertion otherwise and avoids both events out of a self-induced spiral of guilt and anxiety.

________________________________

The next time Patton is too firm. He keeps assuring Thomas that he’s not a bad person, and realizes too late that he fell back into his old habits.

Roman sentences them to the wedding again.

Patton summons a pillow to scream into in frustration.

________________________________

By the 50th loop, Patton had more or less given up. He starts the day by rolling out of bed and popping open the cork of a wine bottle right into his face. It’s in the moment he starts feeling a black eye form that he makes the formal decision: fuck it.

He skips breakfast to sip wine through a silly straw (because casual alcoholism doesn’t count when you make it fun. Or when you’re stuck in a figurative nightmare), and he changes into the most ‘dad on vacation’ clothes he owned; a gaudy hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. He forgoes shoes because decidedly this isn’t a shoes kind of day, and after 50 god-forsaken attempts at trying to get this right, he thinks he’s earned a little self-indulgence.

When the time rolls around to start the video, he belatedly rises up in the living room tispy and wearing his old 2015 new years novelty sunglasses. The others are immediately taken aback at his appearance while Thomas grimaces.

“Ah… So that’s why I’ve been thinking about cursing people out all day.”

“You should. It’d be funny.” Patton giggles.

“...Okay.” Virgil states, likely finding his behaviour too familiar for comfort. “What the fuck."

Janus doesn’t join them this time around; instead the real Logan shows up because suddenly everything had switched courses into a completely different problem. The four of them try to figure out what’s wrong with Patton, and he refuses to cooperate the entire time, just for the heck of it. Eventually he grows bored of watching them fuss and squabble, so he starts saying the first things to come to mind, the deepest opinions that were buried under all of his repression-- things he wouldn’t dare say if he were sober and free from this hell.

“I hate all of you sometimes.” He announces over their discussion without guilt, too far gone to care how hurt the faces that looked back at him were. He knew it wasn’t real anyway, at least it wouldn’t be when the next loop started.

“I hate how I can apologize forever and it’s still not enough. I hate how I have to accept the mistakes made against me, but you all get to sulk for weeks and not even let me try to make things right. When all I’ve ever wanted is to make you happy.”

“Patton-” Logan begins hesitantly. He looks like he wants to contradict him and Patton doesn't care for it.

“Stupid of me, right Logan?” He cuts him off with a laugh, dry and completely unlike himself. Logan closes his mouth, regret flashing across his face, and it just felt so good in that moment to be the bitter one for once. He’s never done it before; always having to take the high road while everyone else chose to be petty and self-absorbed in their own egos. No fault to them for that; he felt pretty amazing right now, going against the moral code he had built and adhered to for so long. It felt forbidden and like the sort of thing he’d regret later. (And heck, with all the mistakes he’d been accidentally making, perhaps doing something wrong on purpose was like taking that power back.)

“I’m doing all of this- going through this day again and again- for what?” He continues, glaring at them individually. “I’m doing my best here- just to make everything alright again, and- fuck.”

Patton ignores the shocked expression he gets when he swears. He’s getting too close to feeling bad again, so he summons another bottle of wine. He learns from his mistake and points it away from himself this time, and the cork doesn’t hit him in the face; instead it smashes into the tv screen. Roman and Virgil yelp. Thomas stares.

“...Patton, what are you talking about?” Thomas asks.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter.” Patton giggles again after taking a long swig, sliding back against the blinds until he's on the floor. Away from the cameras, at last. “None of you will remember this anyway.”

And they don’t. (They never do)

________________________________

The next time, he wakes up without a black eye or a hangover and considers not leaving his bed today. He does anyway, just to make sure he hadn’t done something irreversible and ruined everything for real this time.

He goes to the kitchen to find everyone sitting like they always do, in the exact same positions at the exact same time with the exact same food, without fail. They acknowledge him the same way they always do as he enters the room and he can’t help but grind his teeth when it feels like mocking. So he walks over to the cupboard and starts pulling out plates to smash against the ground.

They’re surprised, worried, taken aback, and as he stands in a sea of broken china he doesn’t care about what they have to think about him. He already knows nothing he does right now will have later consequences, even if it means cutting up his feet like an idiot.

He’ll just have to do better next time.

________________________________

He doesn’t do better. Instead, he gives into the urge to stay in bed all day. No one comes for him and the discussion happens without him, which he knows because he resists the summons to go testify.

Maybe Logan got to be the lawyer this time. That’d be nice, he supposes. ________________________________

The next time he sets fire to his room, just to see what it would feel like to see everything he cares for burn.

(It doesn't feel much like anything, because he already knows it'll be back the next day. He hates it in unspeakable amounts when he's proven right.)

________________________________

The next, he goes over to the other half of the mindscape and steals Janus’ hat, feeling a bit more carefree as the side pursues him around the mindscape and the rest of the day is derailed.

________________________________

The next, he tries to make a cake to celebrate the callback and accidentally burns it. He feels like there's some sort of cosmic irony there.

________________________________

The next, he does nothing but make puns until the others cry in frustration.

________________________________

Next, he goes to the other half of the mindscape again and hangs out with Remus all day, just to check up on him after not seeing him since he took Roman’s place that one time.

Remus tries to attack him several times but Patton is past the point of being afraid of him. At one point he catches the shuriken Remus throws at his head and he finally manages to earn his favour.

They end up having a good time, talking until everything resets again.

________________________________

Next, he kisses everyone on the cheek and apologizes for getting drunk and being mean to them.

(Despite them being reseted versions of themselves and therefore not remembering any of it. He still does it anyway and it still makes him feel slightly better afterwards).

________________________________

Next, he finds the energy to make a genuine effort once again.

This time Logan ducks out. Patton spends the next few loops in mourning.

________________________________

By around the 75th loop, he’s finally had enough. There’s no more fun to be had messing around with these constantly-reseting sides, and he’s so so tired of trying to keep the peace and failing. Nothing he does was working-- in fact it seemed like he was just making things worse based on the amount of times one of the sides had broken down in front of them or tried to duck out or left with undealt with emotions. (There were so many things he had seen that would stick with him for a while, wondering just how close they were to having something similar happen in reality. He couldn't even rest anymore, kept awake by the questions.)

If he were a different side, one more accustomed to problem solving, perhaps he would’ve had a solution by now, but he just doesn’t. It's not how he was meant to operate. So instead of trying to figure it out, he goes to Virgil’s room after breakfast and starts blubbering in front of him until he’s led onto his bed where he's awkwardly consoled.

Virgil, without even knowing why he’s upset, places a comforting hand on his back anyway which sends Patton into even greater sobs. It had been so long since he'd let someone hug him or show him affection- so upset with himself for his failings that he stopped believing that he deserved any of it. This time he just lets it happen because he needs some comfort and if he doesn't get it he doesn't know how he'll be able to continue forward.

The two of them end up moving to a more neutral part of the mindscape as to not make his feelings worse, and he allows himself to indulge in just being held. He's aware of exactly how long they have until the start of the debate, so he milks his time with Virgil for all he's got, until eventually his crying evens out into sniffles, leaving him with tired eyes and a runny nose.

He knows Virgil wants to ask what’s wrong, but he breaks the silence first when he finally manages to calm down.

“Do you know how to get out of a loop?”

He can’t see Virgil’s face from where they’re hugging, but he can tell that he’s at odds with the question.

“You’re asking me, the MVP of spiralling, how to get out of a loop?” Virgil asked unbelievingly.

“Yeah, you’re right- It was stupid.” Patton begins, pulling away before Virgil stops him.

“I didn’t say that.” He says quickly, worriedly. Then he goes quiet in deliberate thought. “...You have to rely on the people around you to get out of it, I guess.”

When Patton makes a questioning noise, he continues.

“I mean… Sometimes it’s all you can do, y’know? You’re always gonna be biased when you’re living in your own head, and if you’re struggling to get through something yourself... the best thing to do is ask for help. Get a different viewpoint.”

"Sounds scary." Patton laughs wetly. Virgil joins him, sounding relieved.

"Yeah. It's definitely not as easy as it sounds. Being vunerable and reaching out to people, that is."

"...How do you manage?"

"Well..." Virgil pulls back a little. "I don't always. But you just have to trust that it'll be worth it in the end. And it usually is."

After a moment of thinking that over, Patton draws back fully and stares at him. Virgil meets his eyes with barely-veiled worry as he continues. “So… If you’re dealing with something, you can always tell us. You should know by now that you don't have to deal with everything alone, popstar.”

Patton can't meet his gaze any longer when his eyes heat up once more. "...I just want to be there for all of you," He finally admits in a small voice. "It's my one goal, and I feel like I only let you down. I can't expect you to carry my problems with you, on top of that."

Virgil's frown deepens. "It's not us carrying a burden for you, Pat. It's sharing the load equally so you don't fall under the pressure." His hand found Patton's back again, rubbing small circles. "If you feel like you have to be the one to fix everything all the time, then maybe we failed you as friends."

Once again, the dam broke, and Patton sincerely did not know what to say to that. Virgil pulled him back to his side, letting Patton rest his head on his shoulder as he let out his second round of tears for the day. They were spending too much time talking about his issues, he realized as the video started once more, but Virgil didn't make any move to leave his side, and for the nth time that day, he was incredibly greatful to him.

Something about their conversation clicked in his brain, and it was like he knew exactly what he needed to do. When he was finally ready to let go of this day, he gave Virgil one last hug and thanked him for his advice. He then sunk out back to his room and fell into bed, waiting for the cycle to start over again.

Perhaps he had known all along what he would have to do to end this, and Virgil had given him the final shove.

Either way, he so was ready for it to be over.

________________________________

On the final loop, Patton decided to follow Virgil’s advice.

He goes back to acting as normal-- eating breakfast, getting the call, rising up, reminding them about the wedding-- and this time he doesn’t do anything especially different.

Unlike his previous attempts where he tried to change his tune, tried to see through every possibility, tried to stop arguments before they started; he instead tries to do everything the same way the original debate had gone, to be the best of his memory.

He didn’t falter when he said things he now knew to be insensitive, he didn’t hold back on disagreeing with the others, or insert himself into problems that weren’t his to help with yet. He watched as the cracks formed between each side, watched the gavel swing down, watched every other side sink out after shooing Janus away.

And he knew it would be just fine.

He looked into Thomas’ eyes and felt nothing but pride. Just like the real thing, this one looked uncertain, but was briefly relieved by the conclusion they came to, putting his trust in Patton as he reassured him in his decision. He knew that by choosing this route he was accepting the heartbreak that would come later, but he accepted that. He understood now that hiding in fantasies of getting everything perfect was counterproductive and unrealistic. He knew it was time to go back.

As he sunk out to his room for the final time, he realized that if this exercise taught him anything, it was that above making the right choices, above having the right things to say to fix everyone’s problems, all he needed, all along…

Was patience.

________________________________

Patton opened his eyes to the sight of dim spotlights overhead. With a loud dad grunt he was glad no one else was around to hear, he rolled over to sit on the edge of the stage, looking out to the seat in the crowd he had once been impersonated at.

He took in the room once last time before the lights continued to dim, which he instinctually knew to be the mind’s way of telling him to leave. He was ready for it; so he did.

Hopping off of the stage, he walked between the aisles towards the exit, pushing the doors open to be greeted with the familiar space of the mindscape. He stood there for a second, letting his eyes adjust from the darkness of the theatre as his memory slowly returned to him-- compressing the months he had just gone through until he could remember why he had come here in the first place.

“So.” He heard a familiar voice come from next to him as he regained his bearings. “Are you satisfied with what you found?”

“...Yeah.” Patton said softly, turning to smile at the figure.

“And?”

“I didn’t need to change anything in the end.”

There was a sharp exhale, barely a scoff. “Well, I could’ve told you that, and it would’ve saved you a lot of hassle.”

“You could have.” Patton agreed. “...But it was helpful seeing all the way things could have been different, too.”

His eyes fell to the ground, recalling the different outcomes that were wildly different and much much worse than their current situation. It made him grateful for the way everything had turned out-- imperfect but not broken-- and made everything seem so much less bleak than how he first thought it to be. When he was so lost that he had chosen to relive that day for the sake of getting peace.

“Oh? And what exactly happened in there?”

“A lot. One time I stole your hat. You got so mad that you started hissing.” Patton’s smile widened at one of the better memories, even more so when his friend grumbled.

“Wow. I’m so glad the hour I spent out here waiting was used productively.” Janus sighed, pulling his hat down subconsciously. “...I am glad that it helped, though.”

“I am too.” Patton hummed. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Janus finally returned his smile and Patton brightened up. They weren't yet confident that they could fix everything that had happened between the sides, they didn’t even know if it was possible for them to do so alone, but they were at least willing to take that step forward and offer a helping hand.

And that's all that matters, right? No matter how many times they were let down or faced an obstacle, they just kept getting up to try to be better. It didn't matter if things weren't alright again right away; sometimes earning forgiveness meant trusting the other person to come back to you eventually. Waiting for that opportunity to glue back the pieces together.

And if Patton was certain about anything, it was that he was more than prepared to wait.

________________________________

Tags: @nasatshirts @quinnthequeer @mayflowers07 @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @foxxsong @omnicrex @nadiestar @mistythegirlfluxmess @greenninjagal-blog @hit-or-mish @slytherin-halfblood @i-need-a-life-8903 @lemonlinelights @logicaemetus @bluestarfan10 @marshmallow-fluffy @enby-phoenix @arrestjellyfish @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @impatentpending @killjoy-3000 @nonasficcollection @mhep24601 @atomic-cat-dragon @puffydove @qrowdraws-notforyouthough @randommuffinyt @bubblycricket @theactual-devil @viana-dascolli @modsnow

#my writing #sanders sides #patton sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #platonic drlamp #patton and the no-good day #patton angst #OOF IT'S DONE

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youranxiousnerd · 3 years

Text

Second Chances Thoughts

bc what

spoilers below

i have...thoughts

ah no chaotic intro, f in the chat

it’s still a nice intro, tho

IM SORRY ARE THEY NOT SHOWING THE TRANSFORMATION?!?!

WHAT

THIS IS A HATE CRIME /j

i used the thingy

no bows either?!?!

this is called high school musical: the musical: the series not high school musical: the backstage drama: the series

wow they got changed fast

“Passable!”

I’ll be the judge of that oh wait i cant bc they didnt show us

YES QUEEN ASHLYN GETTING THE LOVE SHE DESERVES

ashlyn is such a queen

the perfect belle, stunning

“A couple letters, actually” it’s a sign (literally)

flower touch

AWWW REDLYN

STOP THEY’RE ADORABLE

they love each other so much

east high kids be snooping

not me thinking about carlos’ hand on seb’s back we were robbed im taking what i can get

“You were the perfect Belle tonight. I was really proud”

“Evil genius”

they’re so happy

AWWW A REDLYN KISS WHOOP WHOOP

kourt and howie are so awkward

“drumroll?”

howie and seb would get along

weird little playoff, maybe he is lying?

they’re cute, tho

sad that they didn’t really get any build-up

“happy now?” “yes”

“If it’s with you, always” MY HEART

just like a fanfic

kourtney just invited north highs beast to east highs cast party

OH MY GOD MAZZARA IS ACTUALLY GETTING A STORY ABOUT HIM

i was not expecting that okay

ej and mazzara are the best

gina is so happy too bad it wont last

gina is an actress

gahhhh portwell drama

oh god rini let the drama begin

that was very calm, did someone possess nini and ricky?

i really like them as best friends. i was a hardcore rini shipper last season but with all their constant conflict i realized how much fun they are as friends

“we are literally on the same page”

“just for a moment” I LOST MY SHIT

miss jenn no

oooo seblos please be good

Seb calling Miss. Jenn out on her bullshit since idk when

“That’s a hard never mind now” okay wow

Miss. Jenn is Carlos’ godmother

This is theatre, not football

CRYING GINA

gini

GINA SUPPORT DAY IS A THING PEOPLE!!!!!

oh wow a plot line actually being addressed

season 1 callback im not ready

gina and nini people!!!

very sweet scene

ahha jamie callback we all knew it

i would really like to see miss jenns batb audition notes

“I’m in a great place, mentally” if you were you wouldn’t be saying that

OMFG IS SHE NOT GOING TO APOLOGIZE!?!?!

like that was a big deal, a big effing deal and then nothing?

you told a kid to jump off something high and you can’t even say “sorry”?!?!

back to the miss jenn love triangle

“I think I’m happy, or gettin’ there”

ricky you don’t have to be there yet it’s okay

that line hit

SEASON 1 OUTFITS

CORE 4 SONG

killer harmonies

sofia giving us that alto rep!!

portwell duet! audition outfits

very good, very very good. this song kinda screams autotune but it still sounds very good.

last song of the season NOOO but very fitting

Is it just me or does “Second Chance” look like a music video they show in Justice (the teen store) in 2014?

cast bonding yay!

PAUSE THE ONLY SEBLOS MOMENT WE GOT THIS EPISODE WAS A WRIST HOLD?!?!!

DISNEY WTF

LIKE EVERY COUPLE GOT THEIR MOMENT AND ALL THEY GET IS A WRIST HOLD

BFBLBFIWGFSDMBF

shit why does my favorite ship have to be the gay one on a disney show?

east high booing the lily and french boi has me on the floor

“Big Red, you were also in it” BEST LINE OF THE FINALE OMFG

i missed antoine

sorry carlos has glitter on his face

seb’s smile and wave at north high why am i laughing?

off topic but i have unintentionally started doing the seb wave (you know the one) (with the fingers) in real life.

also gay chair sit

e.j is also doing the gay chair sit

lily what

you have had like one conversation

she says she likes his face but not his personality?

im calling bullcrap

pause didn’t lily steal the harness? are we just going to forget about that

probably, the writers did forgot to develop seblos

Let Ricky be single challenge

ANTOINE MY LOVE

REDLYN I LOVE YOU

SHUSH EJ’S SPEECH TIME TO SOB

ummmm

so this season has been for nothing?

all the shit they went through (the self-doubt, relationship problems, the injuries, the death threats) is for nothing?!?

since when does Miss. Jenn not care anymore about the Menkies?!?!

I actually get the kids side of this, but not Miss. Jenn’s.

I was surprised they took this route with the Menkies, didn’t even cross my mind

“It was five”

Big Red x medicine

bet your ass ashlyn would have gotten a nomination best actress

“We got a pizza oven” THE EAST HIGH KIDS ARE COMMITTING ARSON

is mazzara staying for miss jenn? they could do long distance but it doesnt have the best rep in this show

gini

ashlyn is the captain of the portwell ship and nini is her right hand man (or whatever second best is called in sailing)

NINI MAKIN THE DEALS

RICKY WHY ARE YOU CALLING HER

WHYYYYYY

“Will you be my first kiss” smiles

OH MY GOD

WAIT NOTHING

WHAT

OMFG THEY CUT IT LMAO

“this summer is about to get hot” SUMMER SEASON 3?!?!

ANTOINE

OMFG HE BETTER COME BACK

I LOVE ABF

WAIT THATS IT

FWBEGLEWG

THATS IT

hey they ended with andrew barth feldman what more can you ask for?

Thats...it?

Oh wait some cast stuff...brb ima cry. The ending has some very series finale energy...I’m scared. Natalie wouldn’t have done the “buckle up wildcats” if there wasn’t a season 3, right? But the bloopers at the end...

The cast ending was great. “You are the Music in Me” was so heartfelt and I’m a sucker for bloopers.

Wait so no Lily home? It was probably a cut scene.

If we got Lily home, can we get an album with the cast singing all the BATB songs?

I have so many mixed feelings about this episode. Here is the thing, if you love the core 4 then this was your episode. If you’re like me and prefer the side leads then this was probably a little disappointing since we barely saw them. This episode felt rushed and a little messy, but there were some great moments. Season 2′s writing has felt a little weird. This season lacked the chaotic theater kid energy season 1 had. It was one of the reasons I fell in love with the show. If/when we get a season 3 I really hope the writers find that energy again.

Let’s all give a round of applause for the cast and crew who filmed majority of the season during a global pandemic. That could not have been easy. They gave us a pretty good season under crazy conditions. They definitely had to change some things to fit the current climate. Overall, hats off the the cast and crew because you guys killed it.

I’m really going to miss this show, hopefully it gets renewed. It has become a comfort show these past several weeks. My sanity says “no, don’t go” but my sleep schedule says “leave.”

To second chances!!

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olivia-ivy · 4 years

Text

what were Remus and Virgil doing during the last episode?

AO3 | Ko-Fi

Virgil was sitting in the center of his room. Not his bed (or the couch, rather, as Thomas was standing in his living room), that was too bouncy, moved too easily, wasn’t stable enough. Not good for his plan of curling into a ball and not moving until the world ends, and maybe not even then.

He was exhausted from the wedding. All those people, all that social interaction ... okay, sure, there wasn’t a lot of social interaction (almost none from the bride and groom, in fact) considering Thomas just sat on his phone the whole time, but still! There were a lot of people there and Virgil didn’t like it. Of course there would have been less people at the callback ...

And that thought only made Virgil sink further into his anxiety-ball form, hugging his knees closer and tucking his head in further. He couldn’t remember if he started rocking in place before or after he started crying, but that’s where he was when he heard a soft pop and smelled Axe body spray — and lots of it.

“SO,” Remus said settling next to Virgil’s huddled form, his extravagant outfit rustling loudly, “it turns out all the video games they’re gonna reference are rated E for Everyone. Lame.”

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, more tears leaking out. He bit his lip to keep his whimpers in and willed himself to stop shaking, which didn’t do a whole lot. Remus was quiet, which is never a good sign (but neither is him not being quiet so who really knows).

“... Is it a Bad Day?” Remus asked, a touch softer than his regular volume, and Virgil’s heart seized. Back before Thomas was aware of any of them, the Others would help Virgil on his Bad Days. It usually had varying degrees of success, but it was better than nothing. He hadn’t told any of the Light Sides about it. He didn’t want it to get back to Thomas that he used to be on the other side of things — of course that ship officially sailed. And sunk. Worse than the Titanic. “Is it a no talky day?” Remus continued.

Virgil didn’t move for a long time. They had a whole system worked out before Virgil left, before Janus kicked him out, before the Others figured out something was wrong with Virgil Before. For days when he didn’t want to talk, didn’t want anyone around him. He still remembers all of those signals. He knows that if he just holds up a closed fist, Remus leave him alone.

He slowly releases one hand’s grip on his legs (ow his fingers are stiff. How long has he been in that position?) and raised one finger. Their old signal for yes.

Remus hummed. “Well that works for me. I have an idea for a nightmare I’m working on, so I’m gonna use you as a soundboard. So it starts with Thomas falling into an abyss, usual stuff right? But then he lands in the middle of that horror movie he saw when he was twelve that scarred him for life, you remember that? Of course you do, you’re the one in charge of the Deep-Seated Issue part of the brain.”

And on and on Remus continued, talking about first his nightmare idea then whatever random thought drifted into his brain. Even though the content of his rambling was often violent, disturbing, or both, just having another voice in the room to listen to, to drown out the static in Virgil’s brain and the loud voices coming from upstairs (it sounded like Roman, Patton, and Thomas were fighting) was helping.

At one point, there was a soft pop and the room smelled faintly like a nail salon. Virgil turned his head, still huddled in his Virgil-ball, and saw various nail polishes spread out before Remus. He had acrylic nails on (did he have those when he came in?) and had a bottle of nail polish remover at his lips. “Y’know, the liquid is blue, but it tastes green.” Remus said matter-of-factly.

“Dirt tastes red.” Remus had said once when they were younger when things were easier.

Virgil frowned. “But you said Janus’s pancakes taste red. Do his pancakes taste like dirt?”

“No, that’s a different red,” Remus said like that made all the sense in the world.

“Okay, but what does red taste like?” Virgil asked, still thoroughly confused by the conversation taking place.

“Like pancakes and dirt!” Remus cackled.

Present-day Remus shrugged, took another swig, and screwed the cap back on the bottle of nail polish remover. He picked up a bottle of black nail polish and beat it against the palm of his hand. “Gimme your hand,” Remus said, but made no move to grab it. Virgil mentally checked himself on how he was feeling about touch. Twenty minutes ago, it would have been a hard no. Now, however, he limply offered his left hand to the other Side and reburied his head in the Virgil-ball.

He felt the cold varnish spread over his fingernails. He was vaguely concerned over what Remus was going to put on his nails, but he knew Remus was too proud of his creations to make a mess (unintentionally, that is. Intentional messes were still a possibility). Plus his nails were always chewed down to the quick, so there wasn’t exactly a large canvas for him to work with.

Remus was just finishing his other hand (“Don’t immediately put it back in the Virgil-ball,” Remus lightly threatened when he finished the first hand and placed it on the carpet next to him. “No smudging my masterpiece.”) when they heard it. Deceit’s tune, coming from upstairs, sounding like it had some kind of retro game filter over it. Virgil tensed (but didn’t move his hands) and Remus snapped his fingers and turned on the TV. The music came through the speakers, louder and more clear. Remus was quiet for a moment (again, not a great sign) then muttered, “Did I drink too much nail polish remover, or is Youth Pastor Ryan a giant frog?”

Virgil peaked over his knees at the TV screen and ... no, Remus didn’t drink too much nail polish remover (well, no, he had, any amount of nail polish remover is too much to drink, but Patton was a giant frog). The others were all pixelated and looked to be standing in a broken version of Thomas’s living room. Patton and Roman were on one side, and Thomas and Janus were on the other, Janus standing protectively in front of Thomas. Virgil’s breath caught in his throat.

“Janus please, don’t do this,” Virgil pleaded. “I’m only trying to protect Thomas —”

“So am I,” Janus said, his voice frustratingly cold and collected. He was standing at the threshold between the two sides of the mindscape, holding the door open and “encouraging” Virgil to go through it.

“I can’t go over there, I’m not one of Them!”

“But you’re not exactly one of Us either, are you?” Janus said, his mismatched eyes narrowing in accusation.

Virgil laughed once, incredulous. “All this because my name is different from you guys?” He thought it was just an innocent observation Janus made. When his insomnia sentenced him to another sleepless night and he threw on his gray hoodie before heading downstairs for a two AM cup of coffee, when he got down to the kitchen and saw Janus sitting at the table looking pensive about something, when he started talking to Janus as just a thing to do, when the conversation shifted from friendly chatting to an interrogation, he had no idea it would end like this. With the man he once thought of as family kicking him out in the middle of the night.

“It’s more than that and you know it!” Janus yelled, his control slipping just slightly. He caught himself and lowered his voice (though he didn’t have to. Remus snored louder than anything and the other one’s room was the furthest from the threshold) and repeated, slowly, “It’s more than that, and you know it, Virgil.” Something like sadness flickered across his face, briefly. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be,” he murmured.

Rage boiled in Virgil’s gut, and he exploded. “It doesn’t have to be this way! You’re the one doing this! What happened to ‘family’, huh? What happened to ‘it’s us against the world, now’?” Virgil’s voice caught in his throat and his vision blurred. “Or were those all lies, Deceit?”

Janus’s eyes hardened. He opened the door wider.

Virgil scoffed. “Whatever,” he muttered. “Whatever.” He stomped across the threshold, jostling Janus on the way even though there was plenty of room to avoid him. He blinked harshly. That side of the mindscape was always brighter, even in the middle of the night. That’s why Virgil’s eyes watered and leaked down his cheeks, no other reason, just that.

He glared over his shoulder one last time at Janus. Was that regret in his eyes? Remorse? Whatever it may or may not have been, no words were spoken between the two as Janus closed the door, and locked it once again.

“Look, look!” Remus said, bumping against Virgil, bringing his attention back to the present. On the TV, everyone was un-pixelated and back in Thomas’s in tact living room. Deceit took off one of his gloves, and held his bare hand up flat, like a witness swearing in to testify in court.

“My name is Janus,” he said. Virgil and Remus looked at each other wide eyed. It was Janus’s idea to keep their names hidden from the others in the first place (hence why Remus blurted his out right away. Someone tells him not to do something and that’s the first thing he does).

Their shock was interrupted by the sound of Roman snorting. Virgil winced, reminded of when he revealed his own name and Roman (badly) stifling laughter at his expense. “Janice?” the prince said incredulously, laughing behind his hand. “What are you, a middle school librarian?” Remus snorted at that joke but otherwise kept quiet. Roman laughed some more then reasserted, “It’s a stupid name.”

Janus huffed in exasperation. “Oh, Roman, thank God, you don’t have a mustache,” he simpered, “otherwise, between you and Remus, I wouldn’t know who the evil twin is!”

A bottle of nail polish remover flew threw the air and crashed into the TV, breaking the screen and stopping the scene unfolding in front of them. Any other time, Virgil would have freaked out at such a display of violence, but he was too busy staring at Remus, now standing and breathing heavily.

Virgil knew why. Way back Before, the four of them had sat down and made a list of things never to call each other, not even in a fight. Virgil’s list was the longest. Remus’s was the shortest. It only had one thing on it, one thing that Remus never wanted to be called under any circumstances. “Re—” Virgil started, his voice croaking from how little it was used all day.

The others and Thomas didn’t know what that phrase meant to Remus, but Virgil knew. And Janus knew. Janus knew, and even though he wasn’t saying it to Remus, he still said it.

“Whatever,” Remus muttered. He waved away his nail art supplies and put the TV back in its place, this time turned off. He whirled around and stormed out of Virgil’s room. “Whatever,” he said again before slamming the door behind him.

Virgil slowly leaned to the side and laid down on the floor (careful not to smudge his nails which, though creepy, came out very good). He laid there as Remus slammed his door. He laid there as Roman sank into his room and turned on loud music to drown out his sobs (it didn’t work). He laid there as Patton and Logan and Janus went back to their respective rooms, Thomas’s dilemma apparently solved without ever needing to call on Virgil.

Fuck.

#olivia-ivy writes #spoilers #sanders sides spoilers #sanders sides #tw anxiety attack #tw anxiety #tw nail poilsh remover #being consumed #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #platonic dukexiety #it was either this or them playing just dance for the whole hour #remus has synesthesia #bc i said so

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years

Note

Steggy prompt: Peggy recently moved to Brooklyn after her divorce, and now Steve is her daughter's first grade teacher

I don’t even know if this is what you had in mind buuuut it’s what I came up with and kinda love it. 2.7k too --

Jack was a good father, but not a good husband. That was a lie Peggy told herself ever since her daughter was born. Sure, he didn’t change the diaper, he had something against the infant sleeping in their bed, and wasn’t there when she had to have an emergency c-section but he was an okay father.

This was her lying to herself, not for the sake of saving the embarrassment of a divorce or because of money or a job, or any of the bullshit people were speculating, but because she knew what it was like to grow up without a father and she didn’t want that for her daughter. Until she saw Jack was not the father that Sarah needed.

Jack was no father at all, he didn’t even qualify to be a husband. He was a presence in the house, a burden. She made more money than him and paid all the bills. She was the one who read stories to Sarah every night, who did her hair, made her breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and took her to swimming practice. In fact, she did everything for Sarah, doctor appointments, homework, parent-teacher meetings, last-minute bake-sales.

What in the hell did she marry Jack for then other than an accidental one night stand and at the insistence of her mother?

Perhaps that was it. Marrying this sexist idiot who thought of himself above others because of the tool between his legs. Because her mother had once again gotten into her head and forced her hand. Michael would be ashamed of their mother – never of Peggy. He would’ve loved Sarah.

“I’m leaving him, mother.” Peggy had called her late one evening after Sarah was put to bed when the clock struck ten and Jack still hasn’t home. Most likely out drinking once again. She could hear her mother’s breath hitch on the other end.

“Of course you’re not, dear.” She always had a way of speaking to Peggy that spoke down to her like she was still Sarah’s age. “This is just a momentarily hitch, you two will get over it. You just have to please him more. Make sure the baby is sated so he doesn’t have to listen to her cries.”

“Sarah is not an infant, mother! She’s seven and is starting first grade come this fall. And I’ll have you know that Jack is not the husband that you say he is. He doesn’t take care of Sarah. He doesn’t do a damn thing but go to work, come home drunk, and make a mess of a home that I spent all day cleaning after I worked all day. Sarah doesn’t deserve to be raised in a household with a man who won’t even recognize her existence.”

“Well, clearly you’re not doing something right, Margaret. Have you-”

Peggy didn’t even hear the end of the sentence, hanging up on her mother with a roll of her eyes. It was a mistake to call her but she had to tell someone and since it was just her and Sarah and she wasn’t putting this on her, it was her mother. Clearly, that was a mistake.

Brooklyn was the right choice. It was friendly, open, and a hell of a lot better in some ways than Washington. First off, it didn’t have Jack’s stench all over it. Anywhere she’d turn, there was someplace tainted with his memory and she wanted to escape that. Moving Sarah to Brooklyn Elementary had been made easy by the Principal and Vice-Principal’s assistance and she was grateful, dreading that.

She’d told Jack that night that she was leaving him, divorcing him. He’d turned a strange shade of red and dared to try to take a swing at her before she threw a right hook into his jawline that sent him spiraling backward into the alcohol cabinet that he was so fond of.

“Don’t you ever think about touching me or Sarah like that again, do you understand me?” Her voice was hard and low, dangerous. Her brown eyes intense as they glared down at him as if to burn holes into his skull. “I’ve let you walk all over me long enough until I got some sense about me because I wanted you to be there for Sarah and clearly you’d rather spent time with Belinda at the bar.”

“You won’t find better than me,” Jack insisted, voice slurred as he forced himself off and out of the glass. “You won’t find anyone like me! Do you think I wanted you? I only hitched you because you were pregnant and felt sorry for you! No one is going to put up with you, Carter. Do you hear me? No one!”

Peggy wasn’t listening to Jack, not right off. She was focused on Sarah who’d heard the crash and ran straight into her arms. Her pigtails shimmering as Peggy picked her up and wrapped her in a blanket, glaring at Jack over her daughter’s shoulders. “That’s the point, Jack. I’d rather be alone and caring for my daughter than to deal with the likes of you or my mother. I know what I’m worth and my time isn’t worth staying here with the likes of you. You’ll find the paperwork on the counter. Good day.”

Fall was coming into Brooklyn and Peggy was grateful, tired of the heat. She was British at heart, no matter how long she lived in America, she did not handle the heat well.

“Alright,” she sighed at her daughter, taking her hand as they crossed the last street. “The Principal promised us that we can have a private tour of the school so you’re familiar. We’ll be meeting your teacher today too. Then you start classes next week.”

Sarah was a quiet thing until she was rightfully upset. She spoke her mind and got into loads of trouble. She didn’t like bullies and certainly knew how to defend herself especially from teachers. She was her mother’s child through and through and damn Peggy was grateful Jack never had a hand raising her. To think of the damage he’d do…

The school was large for an elementary school, if you asked Peggy. Large classrooms, gym class, gymnastics, computer classes, and not to mention the hundreds of different sports and after school programs. It would be good to sign Sarah up for some, given Peggy’s work schedule would run over some.

“Library!” Sarah gasped at the heavy oak doors propped open by a stack of books, practically bouncing up and down. Peggy had no hope of calming her down when she saw the rows and rows of books. Sarah had grown up in the library, knew the Dewy Decimal System by heart – or at least more so than other kids her age. Read well beyond her grade level and could comprehend most subjects adults rolled their eyes at.

Still, Sarah’s love was sci-fi and mystery novels.

“Darling …” And, she was gone, Sarah bounded off into the library, making Peggy laugh and lightly jog after her. “I am so sorry,” she told the young librarian as Sarah bounded between the aisles. My, it was large. Two stories actually with stairs and elevators. She was on some hand jealous here.

The young librarian, a man with blonde hair and purple hearing aids just laughed. “She’s no problem. I’m just glad to see someone loving books for once instead of groaning when their teachers drag them in here. She’s gonna be a feisty one, I can tell, but don’t you worry I’ll keep an eye on her.”

They chatted lightly about books while Sarah weaved in between them, pressing book after book onto the counter. The librarian, a man named Clint laughed at her selection varying between a murder mystery, a historic novelization on King Author, deep-sea extraditions, and facts about dogs.

“I should go get her before she checks out the whole library.” Rolling her eyes fondly, Peggy went to search through the isles. “Sarah!”

There was no callback, so she found herself upstairs. She could hear Sarah chatting away to someone. Odd, she was normally so reserved and quiet unless she knew someone. Who did she find so soon to talk to?

Founding the corner, Peggy found herself staring at the side profile of a man with broad shoulders, wearing a tweet jacket, olive green sweater, and thick-rimmed glasses on the tip of his freckled nose. He had a thick beard coming in and his blonde hair swept out of his face. He didn’t look like he belonged in some elementary school, if anything he should be teaching psychology or history at the local university, not elementary subjects. He was quite handsome and that smile, the way his lips caught in his teeth, made Peggy’s heart lurch.

Sarah was in the midst of conversation, doing all the talking as she rambled on and on about a book in her hand about superheroes. The guy was sitting criss-cross on the floor, adjacent his daughter, nodding along. He laughed at something she said, head thrown back, holding onto his chest. A full belly laugh. He wasn’t downplaying her, he was talking to her, listening to her. Not many grown adults did that.

“Hello,” Peggy mused when her daughter decided to pause for a breath. She knelt down beside Sarah, adjusting the flow of her flowered day dress. She smoothed the wrinkles from Sarah’s shoulders and brushed her hair back. “Did you find someone to talk to?”

Sarah’s head bobbed up and down excitedly, missing the way the two adults looked over one another. “Uh-huh! This is Mr. Rogers! He teaches first grade! His favorite subject is history and art – he draws lots too. I was telling him about how we moved here from Washington because Jack was an asshole.”

Peggy’s face flushed a bright shade of pink while Steve laughed, the woman burying her face into her hands. “Sarah, I’ve told you not to say that word. Yes, I will admit he was that, but we do not say that around other people. Only at home.” She was only human and Peggy cursed. Lots. She tried not to around Sarah but became fully aware that Sarah would grow up around that language at any rate. Sarah knew better than most to curse like that.

“Well, he is,” Sarah pouted. “He called you yesterday and said that I was a mistake.”

Oh, that look on Sarah’s face and the anger residing in Peggy. She picked Sarah up and cradled her in her lap. A glance over to Mr. Rogers’ face showed the same anger but better hidden.

“You must be Peggy – she’s told me all about you,” Steve said in a soft tone, setting his book aside and scooting closer so he could gently touch Sarah’s arm. “It’s Sarah, right?”

The little girl nodded and Steve smiled brightly, all white teeth that stood out amongst the beard.

“Only the best and bravest of people are named Sarah. My ma’s name is Sarah and she’s the bravest, smartest person, I know!” His voice was soft as he met Sarah’s chocolate eyes, that mirrored her mother’s and gently rubbed his thumb along her arm. “You are not a mistake, never. Ever. Don’t believe what that a-idiot says, okay?”

The little girl smiled brightly despite the flushed cheeks and Peggy’s arms tighter around her. “Like mama! Mama’s smart and brave! She punched Jack in the face when he tried to hurt her! And this morning she took down a guy who stole an old lady’s purse!”

Steve’s brow disappeared into his hairline, his hair flopping against his forehead as he looked up at Peggy. Peggy’s cheeks flushed a brighter warm again, resisting the urge to fix his hair. “What I would give to be a fly on that wall,” he muttered.

“Sarah has a way of painting tales to make them seem more…exciting than they are,” she sighed, rolling her eyes with a fond smile. “But Mr. Rogers is right. You are not a mistake, little one. You are my sunshine and I will not have you believe a single word that man says. We’re getting my number changed and he will no longer be able to contact either of us, okay?”

“So,” Steve breathed once Sarah had calmed down enough to believe their words and were now taking her last two books to the counter and talking to Barton. He stood beside Peggy, towering over her, even in heels, his hands shoved into his pocket. He still didn’t look like a teacher but he had the natural attitude and calming demeanor of one. “How hard did you punch him – your ex-husband?”

Peggy giggled at that. A giggle of all things! Her. She never giggled. Or she never found the right person to giggle with. “Hard enough to knock some sense into him, though I’m afraid it leaked out.”

Steve gave a soft whistle that was just loud enough for her to hear, Peggy, rolling her eyes again. “And this morning with your thief?”

“Oh, that? That was nothing more than the right place at the right time. He snatched her purse and tried to bolt soon as the train doors opened, I merely grabbed him by his hair and put him into a chokehold to bring him down until he was sobbing.” Steve at least looked impressed and she liked that.

“Remind me to call you when I’m in trouble. And to never get on your bad side.” His hand lingered just a moment on her arm, giving a squeeze before he was stepping up to the counter to talk to a troubled looking Clint.

Peggy could hear the ends of the conversation – something about Sarah not having her student ID but it was fine because Mr. Rogers was going to check out all these books for her on the promise he gets to hear about each one. Ten minutes later they were standing outside of a bland-looking classroom with no decorations or furniture even and Mr. Rogers was rocking on his heels with a nervous look.

“I think it’s a good thing that you’re my student, Miss Sarah, because then I get to hear all about the books.” The way he spoke to her daughter, Peggy knew Steve was sincere about it too. He wanted to hear about the books and all that Sarah had learned. “And I uh, should apologize about this…” He waved his hand at the empty classroom, cheeks flushing a soft pink under his beard. “I promise it’s going to look amazing when you two are here for opening day. I just got everything out and deep cleaned it all, you won’t believe how much stuff the other teachers hoard in those closets. I found a textbook from 1912! It’s actually in the library right now.”

Peggy gave an impressed whistle that just made Steve flush all the darker, their eyes boring straight into one another. Her hand on Sarah’s shoulder, thumb rubbing against the sweater. “Well, I think I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Rogers. I know Sarah is going to be incapable of hands this year. What do we say to Mr. Rogers about the books, Sarah?”

“Thank you!” The little girl hugged the stack stuffed into a tote against her chest with an ear-to-ear grin. “Thank you so much! But Mr. Rogers, you should ask my mama out so you two can talk more about art! Mr. Clint said I am always welcome at the library and I can stay with him!”

Both adults flushed and Peggy suddenly found her watch very interesting while Steve cleared his throat. “Darling,” she finally sighed, shaking her head. “I love you but do not try to set me up on dates and I am sure Mr. Clint doesn’t live at the library and needs to go home sometime too. I think we should get going, Mr. Rogers. We’ll see you at eight o’clock on the dot Monday morning.”

Steve was still blushing as he waved goodbye to an overexcited Sarah before his eyes fell to the well put-together mother who’d been through too much. “Don’t you dare be late.”

It was Peggy’s turn to grin as she hoisted her daughter up and with the other arm, carried what had to be over fifteen pounds of books. “I wouldn’t dream of it, I think Sarah will kill me if I made us late for her first day of school.”

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steggy Prompt #@womenarethesequel #Not Jack Thompson Friendly #Seriously don't read if you like him #i don't #He's an ass #Single Parent Peggy Carter #Teacher Steve Rogers #Should i post this on ao3?

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fmdjoosungarchive · 3 years

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location: tokyo, studios

date: april & september 2019. march, september, & october 2020

word count: 1753

tldr; verification for sung’s song tokyo. partial lyrics, full comp & prod. the song starts in tokyo, when sung is missing his boyfriend. it evolves over time to be like a diary piece and since it serves as the first ‘chapter’ in his album, it’s also kinda like an intro where it talks through/foreshadows what will be in the rest of the album. sung’s affinity for natural sounds continues, as well as inspiration from @fmdxsuji’s song arari on the composition. again pls dont come for me if it isn’t a gayageum it Sounds like one (in the equivalent of white ppl playing the ukulele but still)

not all songs needed to be about one thing. tokyo, for instance, happened to be about ten different things at once.

it’d started in tokyo. element had a tour stop in the city, and sung wasn’t feeling as chipper as he’d have liked. he loved performing with everything in his being, but-- he still rested his head against the window, watching buildings and people pass by in blurs, no other care for conversation.

sung couldn’t quite make sense of what had caused such a mood in him on the plane from seoul. he supposed, part of it was that he missed daisuke. his boyfriend wasn’t from tokyo, far from it actually, which over time seemed to have made daisuke feel a bit bitter towards tokyo. it wasn’t close enough for his family to visit, which meant seeing them even less often than he would have through touring. sung understood that. he doesn’t like being so far away from his parents the few weeks at a time that element go on tour. years sounded impossible.

but, tokyo still reminded him of daisuke. being greeted at the gate, and hearing chit chat all around him in japanese, sat an ache in his heart. after all, coming to know daisuke over the last four years was the reason he’d come to be better at japanese. passing on by, he could understand most of what was being said, and that was all daisuke’s impact. most every sign he saw reminded him of his boyfriend, the food that he ate reminded him of what wasn’t with him.

maybe, he was just sad in general. that happened to sung, sometimes. he couldn’t pinpoint an exact cause of sadness, and was just sad. underlying issues he hadn’t dealt with could be the reason that happened, but it could also simply be his brain chemistry acting up.

that was his trouble; sung didn’t know. all that he could do was sit in his feelings until they lessened. he took a walk by himself before the concert, telling his manager he can ask for directions if he happens to get lost. that time alone was really needed. he called daisuke, but it seemed the man was busy, as he went to voicemail.

“hi, honey. um, i made it into town safely. it’s- it’s kind of loud here, this might have been the wrong time to call, but, um, i just wanted to check in. maybe see your face.” he’d stopped his path, leaning up against a building to look at the sky. “i miss you already. it’s hard being surrounded by so much that reminds me of you, when i don’t have... you.” his sigh probably sounded tinny over the phone. “anyway, um, call me when you have time, please. i love you!”

sung stayed in that spot for a while, long enough that he decided to record a video of the bustling landscape around him. as he started walking again, he caught all kinds of sounds, cars, trains, planes, click clacking of heels, even a siren. he ended the video with a short facecam, so he could cut that part of the video to send to daisuke.

over the rest of his time in tokyo, sung kept playing that ten minute video over and over, and over again. something about the ambient, faceless sound of human existence was calming, comforting.

in the shower after the concert, sung kept humming the same note pattern on repeat. at first, it was natural, as his brain kept coming back to it, without his active thought towards it. however, the more he repeated himself, the more sung thought that he should be keeping his melody in his head to record after he got out of the shower. it could be useful for something, at some point, he’d reasoned.

he was right, eventually. in the flurry of trying to write songs for his first solo album, sung had turned back to every piece of unfinished song that he possibly could. one of them was this piece, broken into the sounds of daily tokyo streets, and a short humming melody. it was... workable.

sung crafted a simple piano piece based on the humming, used some of the sound from his tokyo video, and just with those two things, it was a basis to write off of. he tried to recall the feeling of that day, by watching the full video of the street a few times over. getting back to that day wasn’t as hard as he thought. papers, then his computer, were dotted in with sing-rap lines about missing someone.

only partially through mixing that vocal line in, did sung think he might be wasting his time. the sound was so different from everything else he’d been working on, much too simply and abstract. and so, the playlist of tokyo was shelved again.

with march came the end of his second solo promotions, and in came the desire to write more music. it was then he came back to toyko, to fiddle around. sung wasn’t sure what he wanted from the song, or if he wanted anything at all, which took some of the pressure off in continuing to write. he made it much more complicated, at first, adding a plethora of digital instruments that he figured he could add in live later, should he so choose. in the end, basically none of that made it into the final cut. the negative of doing whatever he pleased, was that for the most part, he’d lost the point, and feeling, of the song.

what did stay, was something sung came to find integral to the piece. modeled after a recording of his own heartbeat, there was a drum line. deep, guttural, mixed into the piece as if it was still stuck in someone’s chest, and your ear was against it, straining to hear what was pounding into you without any effort on its part.

the song had started to be about life, and those held dear, which was a perfect place to use something that sounded like the foundation of life.

stumbling across the song for the last time was entirely accidental. sung would call it fate. that melody hadn’t crossed his mind in months, but the second he heard it again, it was stuck for weeks. there was nothing he could do to quell the sound in his brain than work on it.

first, he stripped back what wasn’t working, back to the simplistic version he’d started with. after adding on the drums, the world was his oyster. over the next couple of weeks, sung started writing lyrics, mixing where he was at back in tokyo, with his feelings of self. he wondered, if maybe part of his sadness, that day, was in missing himself, too. being in that sad area wasn’t what sung liked to consider part of him. it was something that happened to him, that he dealt with decently regularly.

lyrics took the majority of his time, as he mulled over this thoughts of what the song might come to be, if about anything particular at all. the next major composition change was quite quick, though. his interest had been piqued, the first time he heard suji’s demo of arari. sung had yet to attempt using traditional korean instruments in his music. really, the thought hadn’t crossed his mind until that moment, having his heart swayed by the beauty of the danso and suji’s beautiful voice.

he wasn’t very confident, never having trained with traditional instruments before, but there was a first step in everything. he’d gone to his usual music shop as soon as he had time to, to rent a gayageum. and, simple as the piece he wrote was, it didn’t take too much learning for him to get a good recording of it. listening to it again, with that addition, sung felt how much the song benefitted from that small change, and promised himself that he would continue to learn the gayageum, so that he could make something more beautiful to show the world in the future.

sung also made a note to thank suji for the inspiration.

the next change was quite a big one, though it didn’t deal with the composition. towards the end of september, sung thought he might want to go further than he did with moonchild, and have a song completely in english. even more ambitious than before, he knew, but he also had a slight edge of confidence, after having felt the power moonchild ended up bringing.

a creature of habit, sung called up the same songwriter he’d worked with on moonchild, to request help again. he didn’t really want to translate the words he’d already written, thinking that would flow much less smoothly as a full song, but rather, he wanted to take the feelings he’d put into the korean lyrics, and match it with english.

sung tried to take a more active role in writing the lyrics that time, because it was a full song, based on his own experiences and feelings. it worked fine enough, since sung had a decent grasp on understanding english, even if he didn’t think of it easily himself.

he’d insisted they keep one of the english lyrics that was in the original piece. it was a callback to another song he’d written for the album, talking about love and hate. tokyo was a place that held those feelings, from himself and his original inspiration for the song, just like seoul had from himself for the last decade.

getting to where he wanted was harder than it was for moonchild, since they were starting from near zero, from where sung usually started his songs, and because... sung knew he was being more stressful of a writing partner than he was the last time. every word he wasn’t sure of, he asked for in-depth explanations of, wanting each line to express exactly what it was he was going for.

sung couldn’t explain what this song was about, if he was asked, not in a pretty pink bow. the song was about tokyo, and what that city had brought to sung. that ditty, on repeat, with the sounds of scratched pavement underneath. music wasn’t always simple to understand. it could be a feeling.

the last thing sung changed about the song before sending it off in his final tracklist, was a clip of him humming at the end of the song, with that siren in tokyo in the distance.

#fmdverification #i rly went back thru schedules to see when element were in tokyo lmaoo #i believe this is the song with the most discrepancy on the lyrics n i have Not commented on them #just what the song means to sung specifically #self para #era: happiness #one! more! one! more!

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rkxsungwoon-blog · 5 years

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☆ mga5 callbacks; june 27; interview !

once the performances are over, the ceos retire to discuss the results of the day and, subsequently, the eliminations. letting out a sigh, sungwoon slumps forward in his seat and fiddles with the loose zipper on his keyboard’s cover. the day’s exhaustion slams into him in the span of a few seconds. after four odd hours stuck in these uncomfortable chairs, he thinks he might be ready to go home. but the most important part of this whole ordeal is yet to come: to see who actually makes it onto the show as an official contestant and who will have their journey cut short. the worried frown on sungwoon’s face is more for woojin, kenta, and minhyun than himself. they did amazingly well and deserve to make it through. just this round, he thinks, wringing his hands together. just let them get through this round. let us all get through this round.

he hasn’t really considered what he would do if he gets eliminated here and now. laugh at himself, maybe. go through another crisis of ability? sungwoon made it past this point last year, and he’s much better now than he was back then. he wants some sort of acknowledgement of his skills and his growth, but he knows just as well that the universe doesn’t owe him anything. with everything empty enigma has already accomplished, maybe he’s reaching for the stars. however, sungwoon has never been okay with just being content. if he can push forward for more, he’ll take it. so he wants to survive today, and next week, and the week after that. sungwoon refuses to let himself consider the alternatives.

the staff call individuals out one by one while the ceos deliberate. he’s a little confused until someone lets it spill that they’re doing more interviews. frankly, it’s unexpected; sungwoon can only remember doing one interview last year, and it wasn’t until episode seven. this is a holdover from earlier seasons, apparently, so sungwoon is happy to just roll with it. interviews don’t phase him, and he certainly has a lot to say about the performances he’s watched so far. some of his friends are… not as forthcoming, and he is absolutely thinking about woojin here. god, he hopes woojin will be okay during the interview.

“ha sungwoon!” he’s deep in conversation when he hears his name and nearly jumps in surprise. after asking keta to watch over his keyboard, he follows the staff to get his hair and make-up retouched. in spite of his tiredness, he chats amicably, gently prodding them for any idea of what to expect during the interviews. one of the make up artists laughs at his attempts and says, “you’ll do just fine, sungwoon.” he takes her reassuring words to heart and heads into the room ready to get through this. all he has to do is remember to reign in a few of his more passionate opinions, but if there’s one thing sungwoon does feel confident in, it’s his ability to know what is appropriate and what isn’t.

“welcome back, sungwoon. this isn’t your first time on the mgas, but we’re still curious to hear how you felt when you received news of the callback.”

after greeting the interviewer and taking a seat, he ponders the first question. “honestly? i didn’t think very much of it when i first got the email. i was busy making kimchi, which is just about the most korean thing i could be doing.” the chuckle comes easily as sungwoon recalls the rest of the band bothering him to abandon his work and check his goddamn email. they’d been so excited to hear they were going through to the next stage of auditions… their reaction to the news sticks with him more than his own. “i think i was happier for my friends than i was for myself.” especially for kenta, minhyun, and woojin. “some of them are getting to experience all this for the first time and it’s fun to see them go through the whole spectrum of emotions, you know?”

he didn’t get to experience it with the whole band last year, so get the opportunity to now means the world to him. “their enthusiasm is infectious, though, and they ended up getting me excited too.” especially daniel, whose been the whole group’s champion from the start. “i guess aside from that, i was a little relieved as well; i felt like i should be able to do this much.” especially after his showing last year, to not even make it to callbacks would’ve been awkward. not that he’d ever expressed his doubts to his friends—or to himself. “i wasn’t ready for my journey to be cut short, though, so i’m grateful i got a chance to perform today.”

“were you surprised when the judges were revealed?”

“yeah,” he says immediately. even amidst everything else going on, the arrival of the five ceos caught sungwoon off guard. he understands the reason behind their presence here; it makes sense that they’d want to be involved in the selection process for the show itself. and to see how potential contestants react to their sudden appearance—whether they can keep their composure or fall apart in a bundle of nerves—is equally important, in his opinion. the live shows aren’t easy; not everyone can handle the kind of pressure that comes with it. “i might’ve blacked out for a few seconds in shock,” sungwoon laughs. “they are a lot more impressive than i remember. i mean, their collective aura is no joke. did you see so jisub? and katie lee… wow.” the ceos radiate power and prestige. it would bowl a lesser person over.

“i was looking forward to performing for them again,” he continues after a small pause. “but if i’d known they would be here today, i would’ve done something different.” it’s hard to imagine what else he might’ve performed off the top of his head, but sungwoon knows he probably would’ve taken a risk and showcased a skill they wouldn’t expect to see from him. “but hey, that just means i have to live to fight another day.” he scratches his neck. “regrets and i aren’t good friends. i don’t want to go home and think, i should’ve done this or what if i’d done that. hopefully i won’t have to. hopefully the universe will be kind enough to give me one more opportunity to perform for the judges.”

“so how do you think you did with the performance you prepared?”

“there’s always room for improvement.” no matter what he feels about his performance right now, sungwoon knows he’ll discover a million things he could’ve done better once he stops and really thinks things through. it’s not in his nature to be complacent; the nagging voice in the back of his head criticizes more easily than it compliments. “i’m never fully satisfied with anything i do, but i think that’s a good thing. it just means i’ll keep pushing myself and keep try harder next time.” rather than being a burden, he thinks the attitude is a healthy one to carry into a competition like this one.

“that being said…” the corners of sungwoon’s lips curve up, his previous serious expression fading. “this performance was representative of who i am. i worked on the piano rearrangement myself, and i really wanted to showcase a combination of my vocal and instrument skills. and i sang from the heart—which might not count for much, but that might be the most authentic performance i’ve given in my life, so how can i not be happy with it?” he’d left it all out there, bled himself dry, and he hopes at least a fraction of that came across to the ceos and to his audience. “my answer might be different tomorrow, but for now, i think i did alright.”

“what did you think of joohyun’s performance? she sang a song by your band, empty enigma.”

ah. surprise briefly flickers across sungwoon’s face before he can cover it up with a smile. it makes sense for the staff to ask him about her performance out of the other ninety-nine, but he can’t say he’s prepared to answer. “i still can’t believe it,” he chuckles, fingers idly picking at the stray threads sticking out of his pants. “my brain stopped functioning for a while. like, i actually thought i might’ve died and entered nirvana. for someone to perform our song on a stage like this one is… unreal.” his jaw dropped when he recognized the familiar music, the lyrics he’s come to associate with daniel pouring out of joohyun’s mouth.

sheer shock eventually gave way to gratitude and confusion—why empty enigma? they’re not exactly… mainstream. it has to be a big risk doing one of their songs. sungwoon wonders if she did for daniel’s sake. he’s not sure what to feel about that, but now isn’t the time to unpack it either. instead, he presses both hands to his warm, pink cheeks as he thinks about the viewers hearing empty enigma’s music. joohyun’s done more to promote them than any of the band members have. “i’m thankful joohyun liked our music enough to do our song, and i think she did it beautifully.” he turns to the camera and sinks into a small bow. “thank you, joohyun! i hope someday we’ll be able to perform this song together!”

“and what were your thoughts on your band members’ performances?”

his face splits into a wide grin. “i thought you’d never ask.” sungwoon can talk about his friends and their performances for hours, but he tries to keep it brief. “all of them did a great job. i know i sound biased, but i didn’t realize how good most of them are, so actually seeing them up on stage was a shock for me.” he dives into woojin’s performance first since it’d left the strongest impact. “woojin… i didn’t know he could dance like that. i mean, we live together, but he’s a private person—so seeing all that charisma and raw talent come out? i’m proud but also slightly offended he didn’t tell me he could do that.” similarly, he didn’t know the full extent of kenta’s dance skills, though they’d come as less of a surprise than woojin. “kenta was also amazing. doing a jun song isn’t easy, but he pulled it off with elegance and charm. he’s truly a talented performer.”

talking about minhyun is a lot easier when sungwoon doesn’t have to do so in front of him. “i knew minhyun could sing, but his dancing skills were a bit of a mystery to me.” pausing, sungwoon bursts out laughing as a thought hits him. “i guess that’s how you can tell we’re in a band, huh? none of us knew the others could dance.” he takes a brief moment to collect himself before continuing. “anyway, i really applaud him for showcasing both his singing and dancing today, and i love bruno. minhyun really did him justice.” god, he hopes this doesn’t air; sungwoon isn’t sure how he’d explain gushing about minhyun on camera to the man himself. “i believe minhyun has the confidence and talent to be an idol, so he’s definitely one of my top picks out of today.”

finally, he comes to daniel and his eyes light up. “daniel… he’s polarizing. i’ve heard a lot of people say he isn’t talented, but he did an original song today. that has to count for something.” he loved daniel’s performance, but he’d probably love anything daniel does. the faint pink from earlier is still in his cheeks, and he hopes it isn’t obvious just how much he cares. just in case, sungwoon cuts it short. “his singing and stage skills have improved immensely, so i hope people recognize that and support him a lot this year. he deserves it.”

“were there any performances you liked?”

there were a few sungwoon paid attention to aside from empty enigma and joohyun’s. “eunji—she did boa’s woman. i thought her voice and her presence were both commanding. i’m a fan. i enjoyed jeonghan’s song choice and vocal color as well; he’s a potential contestant i would definitely keep an eye out for.” he should probably diversify and mention more than just vocalists, but as one himself, sungwoon tends to focus on the competition more than the rest. “i heard someone sing day6’s shoot me—sihyeon, i think? i thought her song choice was very bold. i liked it.” day6’s music is some of his favorite to listen to, and he almost wishes he’d done of their songs as well. “hyojin’s acoustic cover was really good too. i wasn’t familiar with the song, but i like how he performed it.”

this is harder than sungwoon anticipated; a lot of the performances that came first have blurred together in his mind. “some of the mash ups were very clever. i can respect the skill that goes into making them.” there were a few others, but he can’t remember them off the top of his head. “oh!” sungwoon says suddenly, smacking his palm with his fist. “the guy who did the trot version of lc9? i kinda enjoyed that. though my grandfather loves trot so i might just have a soft spot for it.” the name of the performer slips his mind, but the song itself is stuck in his head.

“were there any performances you didn’t like?”

sungwoon wonders how many people have actually answered this question. nobody wants to be edited as the designated asshole, so he imagines the answers have been safe so far. sungwoon isn’t eager to shoot himself in the foot either, but truthfully, there were a few he didn’t care for. “i think there are some performers who could probably benefit from a few years of experience,” sungwoon says carefully, his expression controlled into one of bland interest. “but shows like this have ways of making you grow up fast, so i don’t know if it’s all that important.”

he wonders if he should just list the performances he didn’t like—the kid on skates, for one, because this is an idol competition. the one who’d done the baby shark remix didn’t seem all that serious either. “i also hope more contestants take the competition seriously moving forward.” sungwoon could rip into a few vocal performances if he really wanted to, but he eventually shakes his head and flashes the interviewer a smile. “i don’t think my opinion matters much, so i’ll leave it there.”

“is there anyone you are certain will move onto the next phase of the mgas?”

“mason,” he says bluntly. “but everyone can probably see that coming.” it’s wild to think a debuted idol is on this show, and such a high profile one. his sheer wealth of experience both terrifies and inflames sungwoon; he doesn’t want to just roll over and lose to someone like that. “he’s a former idol with a fanbase, with the skills and training, and with the prior experience to kill it in this competition. i believe he’ll make it to the finale.” is it unfair? maybe. if sungwoon’s worried about going up against him, he wonders how some of the green newbies feel. “i hear there are a few other debuted idols here too. junhee—he did jonas brothers? i heard he was an idol as well, so he’ll probably have an edge over the rest and make it through easily. you can’t deny that people who’ve experienced this lifestyle, whether as idols or trainees, have a distinct advantage in this competition.”

other than that… “i think moonbok might move onto the next phase; he was on the mgas last year. i hope joohyun goes through since she deserves it the most, probably.” for fairness’ sake, he should mention people he hasn’t spoken about yet. “i’m confident minkyung will, and likely chan as well. i remember being impressed by him.” and last season didn’t have many rappers, so sungwoon is positive at least a few will go through now. “if any of these predictions come true, maybe i can see the future?” he breaks off and laughs at the thought. him, a psychic? “i hope that’s true! it’d be cool.”

“some would say you also have an advantage over others as a member of a band.”

some? sungwoon would like to meet them. “maybe? but performing as part of a band and as an idol are two different things.” he’s not sure how to explain this to someone who hasn’t experienced the energies for themselves, but you can’t compare the two. “the way you play to the crowd—and play off them—differs when you’re in a band. it’s a lot more casual and fun and intimate in some cases.” personally, he thinks it’s freeing; there are less rules and restrictions, no illusion of perfection to maintain.

“as an idol, you need to be more poised and precise with everything you do. i mean, i can’t say for sure, but from what i experienced during the mgas last year, it was… nothing like i was used to. the expectations for idols are sky high.” sungwoon shrugs and claps his hands together. “i don’t think my band history gives me much of an edge over anyone.” his fellow competitors don’t have to agree, but at least sungwoon made an attempt to clear the air.

“is there anyone you are certain will be eliminated today?”

he grins slowly and shakes his head. “that’s not for me to judge, is it?” no way is sungwoon getting caught out on that question. but privately, he thinks skater boy is probably a goner.

“thank you for your time. you may now return to your seat.”

“thanks for all your hard work.” exchanging farewells with the interviewer, he heads back to his seat, eager to discuss with his friends as they wait for the eliminations to take place. maybe the interview could’ve gone a bit better, but sungwoon is glad he didn’t say something dumb. it’ll have to do for now.

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rkpjy · 5 years

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⭐️MGA 5 EPISODE 2 ↪ singing an acoustic version of birthday by rad museum ( 00:21 - 00:59 // 02:20 - 02:39 ) skill performance outfit (minus cap), hair

tw: depressive thoughts, mention of suicide

The day I was born Nobody knows The day I was born Nobody knows my birthday I feel so blue

in that moment, jinyoung feels alone. he's surrounded by a hundred other contestants, judges, staff members, but the room could be empty and it wouldn't feel any different. as much as he tries to fit in, to get a sense of belonging, to interact with people, nothing seems to work out. he's just another head in the crowd, just another singer that no one paid attention to. just another soul that won't be remembered.

he feels nothing as so jisub prepares to announce the results. this hole inside him keeps growing and no matter what he does he can't stop it. it nobody's fault but his own, really. the world doesn't have to cater to his feelings, people just move forward and will leave him behind if he doesn't follow. he doesn't resent anyone but himself for being like this. since the day he was born, jinyoung has always felt lonely. he was not rejected, he was decently popular even, but he could never shake off this heavy, suffocating sense of emptiness.

people always get bored, then they leave.

he knows he's not as entertaining as these younger contestants clapping and cheering for everyone, laughing along and chatting whenever the stage is empty. jinyoung observes, he analyzes, a mere bystander as the rest of the world marches on. names start being called, but he doesn't expect his own to come out in the beginning. the parks are closer to the end. after showing off his versatility, he can only expect to move forward, but he might not have made any impression. there's never a safe way to tell besides having faith in his own talent. he's not surprised, however, when he hears 'park jinyoung', just as he wasn't when he got his callback audition. will this resolve fade as the show gets harder, jinyoung can't tell for now. if he's meant to go home, he'll leave quietly, without making any waves.

after filming ends and they are allowed to go home, he is probably the first to leave the set. he doesn't wait for yugyeom, as they haven't spoken all day and jinyoung isn't sure of his plans after. he is more likely to go out with his friends than go home right away, which the older understands. yugyeom is outgoing, he's social, and so enthusiastic about this competition while all jinyoung wants is to find mina. he calls his mother on the way home too, as she wanted to be the first to know if he got through. she's ecstatic, though she keeps telling him she knew he would blow them away. jinyoung's heart swells upon hearing this. she knows he worries too much, he takes after her. mina is still waiting for him when he comes back, as the supportive girlfriend she's been since the beginning. he looks at her sparkling eyes and tender smile, and he once again thinks about how he doesn't deserve her. she loves him so much, and is so caring. sometimes he feels as though he's her whole world and it used to be a lot of pressure for him, to have another person depend on him so much. but mina is even more solid than he is when the people she loves crumble down. she's a soothing presence, and the lighthouse guiding him through his inner darkness. she congratulates him, and they don't do much else beside cuddling on the couch until it's time to sleep.

the song choice appears evident as soon as birthday comes on shuffle in his playlist. he can thank yien for this one, as he never turns down his recommendations. the idol knows a lot of music jinyoung hasn't explored, or wouldn't without some guidance and he's never disappointed whenever he gets a new addition to his playlist. he relates to the lyrics a lot more than he wants to. taken literally, the singer talks about being forgotten on his own birthday, but there's a much larger meaning to it. this feeling of loneliness, of going through life backwards because it seems as though no one truly cares or pays attention. and it kills jinyoung to feel like this when he knows there are so many people who want nothing but his well-being and happiness. he should be happy, right? he should smile more, get excited more, and yet he doesn't. there's no explaining it, or if there is, he's never found it.

he goes to work that day, looking at the customers and wondering if everyone's like him. if they still feel lonely when holding their lover's hand, or hugging a friend, or smiling at a complete stranger. he mentions it to jaewon, although too vaguely enough for jaewon to really wonder what's going on underneath the surface. they jokingly talk about how much life sucks at times, and even more when you have to work at a café to pay the bills. they both aspire to much greater things, and maybe jaewon more than him has almost given up on them now. jinyoung tries to hold on, after all, he's still twenty-two years old, his life is far from being over yet.

he arrives the next week with a heavy heart, and a lump in his throat. he's been practicing all week, in between breaks at work, or in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep. he feels bad letting mina hear him sing it; he knows she'll be sad that he keeps these emotions buried inside, but the sole fact that he lets her into these private, darker thoughts means that he trusts her more than he trusts most people. he lets very few people in, and the rest can only scratch the surface of his soul. whether it's a good or bad thing, jinyoung doesn't care. he wouldn't feel any less lonely with more friends.

they are once again brought in the studio where a stage awaits them, but with fewer seats this time. jinyoung looks over at yugyeom and the people by his side. he just can't bring himself to join them. yugyeom's his brother, sometimes more so than he is a friend, and so jinyoung lets him have his own friendships without intefering with that part of his life. they're so loud anyway, as are most of the contestants. it turns him off. sia gestures for him to come over to where she is sitting with a couple friends, most of them the same as last week. he decides it can't hurt to sit with at least one familiar face. as for the rest well, he could always strike a conversation if he ever feels the need to. he ends up very close to changbin, who left quite the impression last week with his self-produced rap. they both nod to each other, then nothing after that for a long time. he talks to sia briefly, too, both asking how their week has been, and he claps more loudly for her than he does other people when it's her turn to go on stage to perform.

he definitely feels lonely.

he looks around him, expression neutral, very focused on the performances but never really letting any emotion through. there's no way for the camera to capture his thoughts. in fact, he looks more like a still image than he does a living, breathing person, save for the rare blinks here and there to prove that he is, indeed, alive. the singers go first, and due to his name jinyoung is the sixteenth contestant to perform. it doesn't bother him. the placement doesn't matter, only the skill does, but there's still a feeling of restlessness as they all pass on stage, some doing amazingly well, deserving louder claps from jinyoung and some being disappointing, only earning a few spared claps.

"next up is park jinyoung, please come forward."

he breathes in, breathes out. will it be like this every week? his fate relying solely on five people who might not even grow to like him. some could say they're the most capable of judging talent but jinyoung feels otherwise. he's worth more than nods and 'thank you, you can go back to your seat's. but they're sitting up there, and he's down here.

as usual, polite park jinyoung bows to the judges and both sides of the stage where the contestants are watching him from. "i'll be singing birthday by rad museum. thank you for listening." he says.

today is not his birthday. but the feeling isn't any different. he's nobody. and they're about to get a glimpse of park jinyoung's demons.

From now on I’m not going to meet with anyone ever Don’t worry too much I never die Is it because I’m wasted? Oh I get so drunk I said I was leaving, but the place I wind up is the playground by my house

the song starts very slowly, and he sings the first part acapella, hand on the microphone instead of the guitar now strapped around him. eyes closed, lips brushed against the microphone, the words come out seamlessly, gently. he means every single one of them. don't worry too much about him, he doesn't want to die. at least not anymore. he won't disappear, he won't really leave, but part of him still wishes that he did. not to get away from people, but to get away from himself, and the pressure he puts himself through each day.

The day I was born Nobody knows The day I was born Nobody knows my birthday I feel so blue

from the chorus, his fingers start to strum the chords of his guitar and jinyoung moves his head along to the beat, feeling it right to his core. it's not about how nobody knows his birthday, but more about how nobody truly knows him. and so few people really care to pry enough to see what's inside. he doesn't talk much, and they rarely ask.

he feels so blue.

Morning sunshine, so long This city’s neon sign, so long My life is so long And it’s difficult I hate this day that finds me every year

he looks at the five ceos, grooving along to the music, then closes his eyes again. it's a very intimate song, at least to him, and he hopes they'll feel just how deeply meaningful it is through the way he delivers the lines and feels every beat. it's a very different style than the one he's done last week, so they can see for themselves that he can tackle more than one style. and that he deserves more than to be put in one category.

The day I was born Nobody knows The day I was born Nobody knows my birthday I feel so blue

Nobody knows what day today was Today’s my birthday Feels like a waste to just let it go by I want to party

the bridge isn't as sorrowful, there's a glimpse of hope in the way he says he doesn't want to let the day go to waste. to jinyoung, it's his whole life he wants to make worthwhile. he could accomplish great things and actually enjoy them if he just lets himself get rid of his shackles.

The day I was born Nobody knows The day I was born Nobody knows my birthday I feel so blue

the singing stops and at the same time, the music he's been playing. he takes a deep breath, giving himself a few seconds to get back to reality. he gets so involved in whatever he sings that he often ends up unable to get his mind off of these feelings for a while. he goes back to his seat and doesn't talk to anyone until after the next performance, which funnily enough happens to be junhee.

changbin speaks to him then, telling him he enjoyed his performance, to which jinyoung replies a very short "thank you, you did quite well yourself last week." it's obvious that there's a lot of awkwardness between them, not because they don't get along, but just because that's how they are. it took them everything to actually acknowledge each other and now that it's done, the conversation died as quickly as it came to life. all that's missing are these quirky edits korean shows make, of both the boys inside huge blocks of ice. that's how cold the silence feels.

jinyoung pays a special attention to yugyeom once the dancers' round begins, as while he has confidence in the younger's talent he just hopes he won't mess up. it would be such a shame if yugyeom were to go home because of a stupid mistake, and as a big brother he can't help but feel responsible for him. but thankfully he does very well, and jinyoung breathes with a little more ease once the dancer is safely back to his seat.

just like this the main event comes to an end, and they're once again met with an uncertain future in the competition.

what will he tell mina when he comes home tonight?

#rkmga5 #rkmga5skill #.solo #rkkmn #yienrk #rkjjwon #rksihyeon #rkkyg #rkxbin #junheerk #(vague reference to singers performances but too vague to tag)#did i shamelessly used a video for ootd purposes? yes #couldn't find a good pic SO

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wizerdmedgic-blog · 5 years

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One thing that I admittedly

One thing that I admittedly dont have control over, proven by the phone conversation that spurred me to write this piece, is the judgment that others will cast on my when they know that I do for money. Even those who know that as well as dancing, I am a student and hold a day job in retail. Its a shame that women are continuously told not to express themselves for fear of judgment and labeling. Why are we told that there are good girls and there are whores? In my life, I want to embrace every aspect that comes with being a woman. I want to be sexy and intelligent. I want to be passionate and headstrong but I want others to know that I feel too."I usually go for dresses, lingerie, or leather," she says.Some of the girls broadcast risqué photos of themselves for free using sites like Instagram and Tumblr while others only use sites which require payment before viewing. Being a cam girl, specifically, can be a great option for sex workers because it’s a lot safer than when you are with a client in person. Cam girls still have to protect themselves, of course; making sure people can’t find out their addresses or real names. Those are things that workers in all facets of the sex industry have to worry about, whether you’re a stripper or an escort. But cam girls have the privilege of working from their homes or a studio, where they don't have that threat of violence or diseases. Or they just don’t have to deal with a client having bad breath.

"He told me I just had to talk. That's all. But he was in the room with me, and we made pornography there.Are there misconceptions about webcamming that you want to bust?Do you find people make assumptions about you because of your line of work?I don't know her real name, and I don't get the feeling she's willing to tell. We just talk about stripping and streaming sex, her chosen field for the past couple years. There's not much point in digging, anyway — Domino is, for my purposes, more a brand and personality than a fragile and finite person like you or me. But a thriving one. She describes herself as: CONTINUED BELOW...

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keithiskogained-blog · 5 years

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Some guys they date

Some guys they date are actually really understanding of their profession. While odds are that she has exes who weren't totally cool with it, she says she's dated men who have been "incredibly supportive and understanding" once she was honest about what was happening. "I explained, 'No one is touching me. I set my boundaries. I will never meet these people. I don't know their names, where they live, or what they look like. I do only what I want, when I want, how I want to, at the touch of my own hand. I end anything if I feel weird.'" Once they had that chat, she says it wasn't an issue, which is awesome. The first time I went ‘private’ with a guy I freaked the fuck out. All he wrote was ‘get naked’. And so far all I’d done in a chat room was flash my boobs for an influx of tokens. I froze up in stage fright and closed the room. In my group chat I wrote: Sorry, cam froze.” And I logged off for the night.For my first show I applied some makeup, did my hair and put on a deep v-neck leotard. It was the middle of summer and boiling hot even in just that. I sat on my bed, placed my webcam facing toward me and sat doodling in my sketchpad, waiting for patrons.I had the opportunity to watch her cam, and I realized that she has a persona when she’s camming—in the same way that a lot of media people do. It’s not like she’s drastically different, but there’s a version of herself that she shares with people while shes at work in the same way that an actress would go on a talk show and be the sweeter, funnier, more engaged version of herself. She puts on a show, and gives her best, sexiest performance, reading what the client wants, asking questions, and taking directions. All the while, she’s sort of straddling the line between sexual partner, therapist, and moral supporter. It’s a ton of emotional labor—like any type of sex work. I think we often forget that being a sex worker is essentially working in the service industry.

I have considered opening up my profile again a few times since, and very well might once I get over the ‘what will people think?’ paranoia, and memorise the retort I have planned regarding the government youth unemployment in Australia: With youth unemployment currently sitting around 13%, creating your own job using the resources you already have (in this case, internet connection, webcam, studio lighting and cute knickers) becomes a much more viable option than waiting for callbacks from the 20 resumes you sent out last week. That said, the idea of my future prospects of employability could be damaged if this was discovered, and I do wonder about the percentage of money the site makes versus the percentages the models make.I met Anna because she flatly offered to talk to me — clothed or unclothed — in exchange for money. She's Romanian, a model from a region with a reputation for sordid conditions and rapacious studio owners. If there were a dark side to the industry, she'd at least be nestled closest to it. But when her camera first flipped on for me, I didn't see the stained walls of a prostitute's den. Instead: a bright, modern apartment inhabited by a bright, modern girl. In her pink underwear. Anna embodies almost every delightful stereotype an American brain can hold over a young girl from Romania. At 24, she's clever — even cunning — sarcastically flirtatious in a way that makes you want to check your back pocket, and possesses stunning slavic beauty.She's got camming down to a science. "It's all about saying to people they are sweet," she smiles. All a man needs is attention, when he wants it, and he'll be Anna's until the tokens run dry. Regulars will sit in her room for hours, pouring money away — these are the lonely ones, Anna says. "They want to hear that they're loved... that they're sweet... that they're kind... that's how you keep them coming back." It might sound mercenary, but these guys are getting exactly what they're paying for. Only a man in the deepest bog of delusion truly believes the cam love is real — if you're spending hundreds of dollars for a companion on your computer monitor, you have to be willing to suspend disbelief. Plenty are willing — particularly Americans, who for whatever reasons (Anna chalks it up to a sort of cultural shamelessness), are more "generous" than Europeans, and more likely to buy into the act — and pay for the privilege of watching something interactive.One thing that I admittedly don’t have control over, proven by the phone conversation that spurred me to write this piece, is the judgment that others will cast on my when they know that I do for money. Even those who know that as well as dancing, I am a student and hold a day job in retail. It’s a shame that women are continuously told not to express themselves for fear of judgment and labeling. Why are we told that there are ‘good girls’ and there are whores? In my life, I want to embrace every aspect that comes with being a woman. I want to be sexy and intelligent. I want to be passionate and headstrong but I want others to know that I feel too.

"I was alone in the room, and it felt like there were hundreds of people around me. And I couldn't keep up with what they were all saying, and what they were asking of me. It was quite shocking. But then I learned to be perceptive about which member was a potential paying customer and not to waste time with all of them in the free online space."Sometimes self-regulation regarding finances is the best option for some people: I’ve been treated better and more fairly as a Cam Girl and nude model than I was in my last retail job where I, no word of a lie, got fired for ‘looking sad’. Yet despite how much control one can have over their career as a Cam Girl there are certainly discrepancies within the industry, including safety issues and issues of future employability, as well as what is considered a fair payment and no guarantee on a basic minimum wage for hours put in. It leaves a lot up to chance."That or exotic places," says Andrea. "This is not only a sex business as some people think - models have to speak with a member as if they are in a normal, online relationship. Being able to discuss many subjects brings comfort to both parties."It's easy enough to read up on pointers from veterans. CONTINUED BELOW...

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johnmurphysreddit · 5 years

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Taking an awesome conversation with @awesomenell65 to the main page so more people can join in.

Basic jist of it: what makes me think they decided pretty late in the making of season five not to heal friendly Bellarke in season five? My answer is based around what I know of story writing as a professional author. I work in books and short stories, not television, I work alone instead of with a writing team, and my genre is romance vs whatever Jason is doing. There are certainly differences, however, the best way to make money in commercial fiction is to write about commercial fiction, and the people selling Masterclasses, Save the Cat, the shape of story, etc. aren’t to plussed about the differences in media as far as writing goes, so let’s chat.

(Preemptive disclaimer: I got 3 hours of sleep yesterday and I’m cranking this out to keep me awake before an appt in half an hour and then I can go back to sleep. Expect typos and possible lack of sense. Requests for clarity welcome)

There are a metric ton of ways to break down a story. They tend to get analyzed as three or four acts after they’re written. When selling a “how to write” book they get broken down a lot further. The method that works for me is The One Page Novel. It goes as follows. The story flow in the order listed, but the ideas are generated according to the numbers.

2. Stasis - Where your character is starting. View of the world in its current state.

4. Trigger - Something happens and the story is set in motion.

5. Quest - AKA the first plan. A good place to burn obligatory scenes and hit some genre expectations. Tends to feature the intro of new characters, travel, and some setbacks. This section could be considered the start of Act 2.

7. Bolt - The plan falls apart. Betrayal, attacks, setbacks, diversions, retaliation rising tension. A longer section. This or shift is the midpoint twist / midseason finale high drama moment.

3. Shift - in character focused work, this is where your character realizes that they’re going to have to change if they want to succeed. In the 100 it tends to be more rising action, some betrayals, and quest part 2. It is the emotional beat the precedes losing it all and it is important.

8. Defeat - hope is lost. the plan failed. there’s no way our heroes will survive this one. If you’re going to kill a character or have a major betrayal, this is where you do it.

6 Power - The character finds a way to make it happen. inner strength. prophecy fulfilled, personal growth made manifest. The hero gains new followers and defeats the evil.

1. Resolution - The final scene that shows how things have changed. Celebrate victory and remember the lost. Set up the next book.

So, that’s one way to draft out the beats of a story, and I assume their breaking process is something like this. The ten points aren’t all of equal length, and when you’re trying to apply them to however many episodes were ordered there’s going to be some adjustments.

Still, they have to decide early in the writing process what they want to happen as the major points of the season. This is also a time when you jot down the stuff you just can’t wait to write but don’t know how you want to use it. I assume Octavia’s cannibal bunker went on a post it to be plugged into the plan later.

Note that the very first thing you decide is where you want to end. The drafting version I have of the outline in my work notebook reads “{NAME} inhabits {Location} that is representative of the new world” and yes I did get a chuckle thinking that Jason sure did get literal with that.

I think it’s pretty logical to assume that Jason knew all along he wanted to end with Bellamy and Clarke side by side on the bridge literally entering a new world. As goals go it’s not a bad one, it was a good way to end ‘book one’, and the visual was pretty with a lot of callbacks in it. The problem is that getting there didn’t quite work.

The 100 tells plot focused stories. That’s fine for what it is, but when they’re drafting out the beats I think they often fail to consider the consequences in terms of character revelation for the acts they have those characters commit. “Clarke betrays Bellamy to Octavia” fits just fine on the outline. It’s a shocking defeat beat, high audience interest, McCreary is empowered. As a plot point it works. As a point for Bellamy’s character it works. It also gets in what was probably a post it note scene “Bellamy sword fights”.

So, they drafted the beats early and they’re filming the earlier scenes as they’re writing the later ones. They know the points they plan to hit in the upcoming episodes, but it’s not final.

I’m guessing they didn’t quite think through how big a deal the betrayal and abandonment was for Clarke’s character and the Bellarke friendship until they had the actors on set and tried to film what comes after it. @awesomenell65 said one of her friends felt like some of the ending Becho shots were initially conceived as Bellarke shots. While my initial reaction was “$%^&&U)(_I NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT BELLARKE!!”, my second thought is yeah, maybe.

I’m thinking of the finale, and having Echo communicate to Raven with a nod that they’re taking down McCreary with a hug works a lot better than Raven psychically understanding that Clarke has changed sides again. We saw Raven and Echo battle training together and we saw them work through the Shaw plan and in the snow. Echo killing McCreary in a bare handed fight also works without making her viscious in a way that Clarke curb stomping to death a guy who was already down doesn’t, but they couldn’t have Clarke realistically win a brawl.

It was always a little odd the Clarke didn’t go after Madi when that’s the only focus of her attention all season. The snipering out the tower scene was a nice battle couple moment for Becho, and I’m betting it was a post it plan, too. Now that I’m thinking of it, the timeline, too, is a little less janky if Clarke, Madi, and Echo run off together from the church, Becho takes out the tower, Echo the spy works her way solo onto Ellegius and Clarke, Madi, and Bellamy head to the town.

I’m picturing them deciding to change it as Bob, accent blazing, does the first read through of the script and affectionately laughs that despite how much he’s grown up and his recent brush with death in the pit Bellamy is still dumb enough to turn his back on an armed Clarke. Octavia got a believable moment of public surrender to Madi, so she’s at least a little calmed down, but Clarke? Clarke’s daughter is right there and charging into a war and it’s Bellamy’s fault and nothing about the facts has changed, just Clarke’s mood. There needed to be several scenes of repair for that to work and they’re seriously crunched for screen time and can’t fit them in in season five, so they just flipped Clarke and Echo’s places in the finale.

This is all speculation, but I think it holds together.

#the 100 #raw nonsense #i'm so tired guys #meta

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brianjpatterson · 5 years

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SPOTLIGHT: “THE BIG LEAP” (Reaching the Next Level in Your Journey as a Performer)

If you’re just joining Spotlight, then I’d like to welcome you to my personal journal of my personal journey as a performer. It’s a kind of way for me to look back on all of my experiences, and lessons I’ve learned, while simultaneously sharing what I’ve learned with you. Disclaimer: The word PERSONAL was utilized twice in the first sentence. Therefore, this is not the gospel or the truth, it’s just me sharing MY experiences in an effort to assist, if possible, in other people’s discovery toward climbing the ladder toward their own version of artistic success (end disclaimer). Today, I’m going to continue my detour past part (Part 5) of my observation of the Industry’s Corporate Structure (AGAIN), to touch briefly upon a concept that I live by in “Brian’s B’s” (Being aka Awareness, Business, and Behavior aka Conduct), of my A+B=C method. It is the concept and idea of how to make things practically tangible for others. When you make something tangible for someone, it becomes easily accessible to them. And if you can make it easily accessible in a brief way…even better! SIDE NOTE: If you are reading this blog for the first time, here’s a brief over view of my A+B=C method. A stands for the Abstract; It’s your dream and what you desire. C is the Completion or end result to the equation. It’s that Concrete product you have Concocted. However, B is the thing that doesn’t get much attention, and it is the most vital portion of the equation; It is your Being, your Behavior, and your Business. All the things that YOU actually DO to mix with the A and make the C happen! That is the basic overview of my system. Today, I’m going to focus briefly on the being side. Cultivating awareness is the most important part of ‘Being”. Knowing who you are, means knowing how you show up in every day life in different situations. Today, I’m going to break down five simple questions you can ask yourself when you are feeling stuck at a particular level.

This particular story begins earlier this year just after the events of “What Would Wonder Woman Do about Depression - part two”. If you haven’t read it, then let me give you the truncated version. Basically, my entire life had fallen apart and I lost everything. I barely had a few dollars to my name, everything was in storage, and I was living with my brother from another mother Louis Trenta. Keep in mind that my agency had closed and the theatre where I was employed wasn’t hiring. In effect, I had absolutely no income whatsoever. I didn’t know what else to do, so I looked into doing extra work. I hadn’t done any extra work in nearly 20 years, and it wasn’t necessary for me to do any over the last decade, because all of my acting-based income for the last ten years (including over $15k in savings/401k I had built and lost) was generated from principal, lead, or supporting work. Needless to say, at the time I considered diving back into the extras world, I was feeling a bit defeated and deflated. But I absolutely needed to generate income so that my life could get back on track. Therefore, I made my way over to Central Casting in Burbank, which is the premiere extras casting agency (in LA and probably the world), so that I could get listed.

If you know anything about their registration process, you know that in order to register, you must arrive very early in the morning (like 4:30am) and wait in line for hours (until 9am or so) just to make certain you make the cut to be in the registration group for that day. They only take so many people each time they register, and they only register a couple of days a week. Naturally, I was running late that day, and didn’t arrive until about an hour and a half before they began letting people inside. But I stuck it out anyway and waited in line for an hour or two. I met some really wonderful people in line. We ordered coffee together and kept each other company until it was time to count off for entry. The doorman who controls everything counted and counted until he finally got to the person in front of me…and stopped. I had missed entry by one person. FUCK! One of my last ditch efforts to generate income and I missed it by ONE FUCKING PERSON! I wasn’t going to let this stand. I proceeded to ‘pull out my chapstick’ as my friend Elijah says. Which is our code for putting on a winning smile and positive attitude. I then walked up to him with genuine genuflect in my voice and said, “Excuse me, I’ve been away from this for a while…If I was already registered about 20 years ago, would I still be in their system?” The doorman’s tone became immediately warm and helpful. He answered with a gracious tone, “Oh yeah, sure man. Let me get your info and I’ll go take a quick look for you.” I jotted down my identifying information for him. He took it, and walked away. Within a minute or two he came back and said, “Check it out, you’re still in the system. It just shows you as ‘inactive’. So all you need to do is come back tomorrow at 10am for the update session”. “Wow. Thank you so much!” I said to him and left gleefully. I returned the next day, updated my information and became active in the system. Within a couple of days I was on set doing extra work.

One of my very first extras job was downtown at the LA convention center. It was for an Apple commercial and there were about 350 people there all together (including extras, cast, & crew). i immediately made friends with a few people on this shoot. One of which was a guy named Robert. When I met him, I was utilizing one of my super powers. What is it, you ask? Well, I have this weird 360 awareness, which I think comes from being on stage so much, (or watching too much Xena: Warrior Princess lol) and as I was chatting with one person, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Robert (who I hadn’t met yet) was sitting at a table by himself and slightly away from everybody. After finishing my conversation, I began to walk back to where my things were and said hi to Robert, whose table was along the way. He stopped me and asked, “Hey, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Did you say that you had done principal work on commercials before?” “Yes.” I answered. “Can I ask you a little bit about that?” he said. “Of course. I’d be delighted to share what I can with you.” I replied. Over the course of the rest of the day, we talked about the industry, shared stories, shared struggles, and even found some of the things we had in common like martial arts and stunt work. Throughout the course of the conversation, Robert mentioned that he was feeling stuck and wanted to move to the next level. I told him about some of my tactics and that I was planning on writing a book about all of them and how my triumvirate approach had aided me in producing some pretty remarkable results. He asked about my techniques and I shared some with him. After a really long talk, I asked him if I could make a recommendation. He agreed and I told him that a key ingredient to my approach was the idea of consciousness. So, the two books I recommend he read were “The Big Leap” and “The Four Agreements”. The two as a pair give a double punch approach to my idea of consciousness: first, becoming aware of what holds you back, and second, creating a code to follow for the future. As we worked over those two days (which was how long the job was), we continued to bond and even connected with others including the first AD, second AD, director, and assistant director. As Tina D’Elia would say, “It was a good day!” :)

Cut to a few days ago. I was doing some extra work again and when I got to holding my face lit up. There sat Robert from the Apple/LA Convention Center job. We immediately went into ‘catch up’ mode, and since we had a little time to talk before the first shot, I figured I’d share a story with him. I said, “I have some really great news and a cool story to share with you!” “Oh?” he said sounding interested. “Oh yes!” I replied. I went on to explain to him that a couple of months ago I received an audition request for a commercial. It was only (and approximately) the 8th audition I attended after moving to Los Angeles. The audition was for State Farm Insurance, and I felt pretty good about it. The good feeling must have been correct, because the very next day I was asked to come in for a callback. This is where things went slightly sideways.

As I mentioned in the beginning of this piece, I went through a really difficult and challenging time over the last two years, which included a debilitating depression. (Link to “What Would Wonder Woman Do about Depression - Part Two”) due to loosing everything and my life falling apart. Therefore, at the time I received the callback, I had three dollars in my account and the car I owned (which was barely running at the time) was nearly on empty. I remember looking down at the display which told me how many miles I had to go until empty and it said ’27 miles’. The audition was in Santa Monica, and I was in North Hollywood. That was 22 miles round trip, and with LA traffic the way that it was at that time of day, I knew I wasn’t going to make it. What could I do? I was at a stand still.

I began considering my options. On one hand, I had already marked myself as unavailable for extra work AND confirmed for the callback, so I was already out a hundred bucks and had given my word to be there. Besides loosing money, I was obligated to go. I opened up the Bank Of America app and checked my account….I only had $3 in ANY account. This was barely enough for a gallon of gas. And gas was what was missing from this equation…*gasp*! THat’s when it hit me, and I knew exactly how to get just enough gas to get back and forth. It dawned on me that I had a premium AAA membership which provided emergency gas as many times a year as you need it. So I called them up and had them bring me some emergency gas. It took about 45 minutes, but the AAA truck finally made it to me and gave me enough gas so that I could make the round trip to my audition and back.

I made it to the audition 20 minutes early. As I walked up the ramp to the casting office, I noticed a gentleman talking on the phone, while standing on the ramp just below mine. He looked very familiar, and within a second I recognized him as the first A.D. on the Apple commercial where my buddy Robert and I met. I said a prayer that I would see him in the audition room. After waiting for a period, it was my turn to audition and it was a cakewalk. It was for a stunt person, so they asked me to do a couple of easy falls. After which they brought in another guy who did a basic mirroring acting exercise. The audition was actually a lot of fun and we ended on a fantastic note. I got in my car and went to the gym which was only a few blocks away and proceeded to get in a killer celebratory workout.

About two weeks passed. I was sitting in my brother’s room and, was preparing my next move. I heard absolutely nothing from the commercial. so I had released it in my mind and come to the conclusion that it went to another actor. That’s when my phone rang. I looked down and it was my agent. He must have another audition for me. I picked up the phone, “Hey, Joe!” “Hi Brian.” I knew something was up. My agent is a ‘get to the point’ kind of guy, so when he didn’t immediately go into audition information, I knew it was a kind of news. “What’s going on?” “Well, you’ve got a fitting for that State Farm commercial. It’s between you and another guy. They want to see you both to see who fits the costume the best.” “Okay. Where and when?” I got the information, went to the fitting, and made sure that I was my best Brian possible. I was wearing my usual Wonder Woman attire which included WW T-Shirt, necklace, bracelets, socks, and phone. I had a lot of commercial experience (over 110 commercials and industrials), and had a good bit of stunt experience, including costume work. And, since they were the effects company who did all the Marvel movies, I being a collector with over $15k in comic books, immediately had tons of things to talk about with them. They shared their concerns with me, and I assured them they had nothing to worry about by answering any and all questions. The other guy got there, and I was wrapped. Needless to say, I left the fitting feeling very strong. At least so I thought.

I heard absolutely nothing from my agent for a week. The phone rang and it was my agent. He let me know that he inquired and they haven’t made a decision as of yet. Another week went by and I accepted that I hadn’t booked this one. So, I let it go. Two weeks had gone by, and if I didn’t hear anything by now, then I probably wouldn’t. So I began to pray, and ask the universe to guide me to the next one. Louis walked in just as I got started meditating. We began chatting about our day and I heard my phone ring. I looked to see my agent’s name come up. It’s Friday at 4:30pm. Business should be…”*gasp*! This is it!” I said audibly to Louis. I knew that the commercial shot in a week, and they had to make a decision today. I answered the phone and heard my agent’s voice. It had a weird smirking tone as he said, “Hey Brian, it’s Joe. I’ve got some bad news for you…(pause)…You booked it!” And with that, I booked a principal role in a SAG/AFTRA National Commercial where I was opposite two celebrities. The exciting part about this, is when I got onto set and walked into my dressing room/trailer the second AD was waiting for me….and he was the same one that was on the Apple commercial where I was an extra. Matter of fact, the first AD, second AD, assistant director, and director were all the same exact people from the Apple commercial where Robert and I met. My world had come full circle in just a few months. But here’s the kicker…I still didn’t have the money to properly fix my car. So the day we were filming, I had to take the bus to set. And since I didn’t have enough money to get back home, I went to set on faith. Knowing that I might have to call Louis for a pickup. Luckily for me, I was able to get a ride home, and when I got home a check from last week’s extra work was waiting for me. So I made it back and forth to set with no problem for day 2. However, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without asking myself 5 questions about 5 specific topics along the way. Here are my five suggestions for things to ask yourself when attempting to move to the next level in your journey.

ONE - DO YOU HAVE FAITH? Wonder Woman once said that “Faith is a perception beyond the vision. Sometimes we must close our eyes to see the light”. This lines up with the Bible’s idea of ‘walking in faith and not by sight”. Not to say that we should deny reality, but that we must rather “Run with the Vision”. In earlier posts I posed the question: “What’s your mission?” After figuring out what your mission is, you can then create a tangible and detailed vision for yourself and your career, which I cover in “My Annual Business Plan Creation: ‘Twice As Good’”. And by having a detailed vision, you then have something tangible in which to have faith. By having your own simple, clear, distinct, detailed, and realistic vision, you have something in which to believe, to refer, and ultimately manifest and bring into fruition. The law of attraction states that ‘thoughts become things’. So when our thoughts are clear and direct we can manifest that much more efficiently. But remember that the law of attraction is neutral. So if your vision is selfish, you will produce results as such. If your vision is full of love, it will be full of love; bountiful and effervescent. Universal law is that we reap what we sow. The bible references the law of the universe when it mentions that things return to us ‘7 times 7’. So again, be careful about what you want and why. Therefore, to make sure you’re on the most efficient, effective, positive, and clear path as possible, One of my favorite first questions to ask is: Do I have a simple, clear, distinct, detailed, and realistic vision, and do I wholeheartedly believe and have faith in my vision? Because thoughts truly do become things. You just have to have faith, and very much like my aforementioned story mentioned, it may even be in the most difficult and trying of times!

TWO - WHAT CAN YOU DO RIGHT NOW? Sometimes, things can be more trying than usual, and your faith will be tested. Often without warning and sometimes repeatedly. Emotions will run high, and circumstances will seem near impossible. That’s why after you first, have grounded yourself through having faith, you can then move to step two which is to figure out what steps you can take right now. For me, figuring out situations in life very much parallels figuring out a character’s journey as an actor. When preparing a character we first figure out the given circumstances of that universe and how it works, which then grants us the ability to begin to make informed choices on what to do next. When we create the ‘givens’ of our own universe through detailed mission and vision, we are creating the intention for how things are going to run. It is after that, we can then make informed decisions on what to do next. This way, when we are in situations like when I was completely without gas or ability to get to a callback, I knew that my mission and vision was clear and that I had to accomplish this. Therefore, I simply asked, what I could do right now to ensure it happened and came to fruition. Mine was to call AAA to get gas so that I could make it to my callback. It was an answer that required a little creativity, but that is part of what it takes to win and create your own game of creating the character detailed in your mission and vision. So when things get tough and your faith is tested, rely on your mission and vision as a guide. Look back over it and ask yourself if there are simple, clear, distinct, detailed, and realistic tangible steps that you can take right now to ensure this step of your mission/vision come to fruition? Just be prepared for what the answer may ask of you.

THREE - ARE YOU MAKING SACRIFICES WHEN NECESSARY? You may have created a very clear and precise mission and vision, you may have strong faith in it, and you might even have been able to figure out what to do right now as a next step. But what happens when that next step requires you to make a sacrifice? My thoughts on this are pretty simple. Ask if the sacrifice is necessary, and if so…then make it! I had to ask myself this when I was first asked to attend the callback for the national commercial. I had been supporting myself with extra work, and was being asked if I could work the day of the callback. Although I was in a particularly precarious situation financially, I knew I had some options. First, I could opt to not attend the audition, and instead make money, which I needed. If I did, then I was missing out on an opportunity to begin working my way up the corporate ladder of success in the industry, which would ensure I stayed in ‘the mailroom’ level of the corporate pyramid even longer. The second was to to do more extra work on the day of the callback audition. Instead, I skipped a days pay and attended the callback. I knew that attending a callback of this magnitude would put me into a very strong chance of booking the job. I realized that skipping a day’s pay was a necessary sacrifice toward moving up the ladder of success. So that is my third question when faced with a potential sacrifice: Is this a tangible and necessary sacrifice? But a new problem, may come into your path after you’ve made some sacrifices. It is when the sacrifice presented seems too much to handle.

FOUR - ARE YOU COMFORTABLE BEING UNCOMFORTABLE? Sacrifices like deciding to attend a callback audition to book a national commercial instead of working for a day, were the kind of sacrifices which I had grown accustomed to making. Mostly because the same scenario would return to me regularly for the last ten years in San Francisco. I was comfortable being uncomfortable, but only in a certain arena, and that was with scheduling and day to day matters. I hadn’t experienced it on a larger scale in a long time. I had known for a while that a bigger sacrifice was looming over my head, but it wasn’t until the events of “What Would Wonder Woman Do about Depression: Part Two” that I was forced to make it. What i discovered is that the idea of making sacrifices and potentially being perpetually uncomfortable was something that affected all areas of life when accepting the position of performer as an independent contractor. We must truly learn to be comfortable being uncomfortable. This can be one of the most difficult steps in climbing the corporate ladder, but once it is gotten, it can be a gateway toward the final step toward reaching new levels in one’s journey as a performer. So ask yourself about most things in your life and career: Am I comfortable being uncomfortable? Some people come to answer this quickly, and some do so at a slower pace. But it’s those who are able to get to this place quickly that are often the ones asking this fifth and final question.

FIVE - ALWAYS ASK ‘WHAT’S NEXT?’ Unless you come upon a ‘Flo’ Progressive Insurance deal where one or two days of work can potentially pay your entire year’s salary, then you’re probably like every other performer who are in a perpetual state of looking for the next job. If you are a performer who is making a living at your art, then one day of work could probably pay for a month’s salary. Therefore, the career artist will constantly be asking his/her self ‘what’s next?’. The very next day that I wrapped on filming my national commercial for this year, I wondered “What’s Next?”, because I knew this job: wouldn’t pay for a full year’s salary, wasn’t going to pay forever, wasn’t going to last forever, nor was it going to be career longevity. So once I was out of the moment of working that job, I was immediately ambitious and hungry for the next one. Therefore, this question was a great guide on my journey.

I noticed that there was an secondary benefit to having this question as a helpful career guide: I wasn’t sweating the small stuff. You see, after the national commercial, I also continued to do extra work, so that in between residual checks I was keeping enough money flowing and continuing to pay bills in a timely manner (Mostly lol). When I arrived on a set for extra work, I was always completely prepared and attentive to getting the job done as efficiently and effectively as possible, due to my mind being on my big personal goals. Extra work was a supplement so that I could get the work for my main job done. I was literally not sweating the small stuff on the set of my extra work jobs because I was so focused on getting things done for my main job, which was principal/lead work. I did continue to do more principal work in other arenas, because I was seeking them out and asking what’s next continued to be my guide. At one point this year, I was in the holding of an extra work job, memorizing a SIX PAGE script (of nothing but me talking to camera - with no teleprompter, mind you) for an industrial commercial I was shooting for a major fortune 500 company a few days later. I was not sweating the small stuff, and physically working on what was next! Keep in mind that I never advocate laxing on your duties at one job for another, but since extra work didn’t require anything but being there, and often times sitting for hours in holding, I knew there would be a lot of down time for me to read or study. So I made the best use of time possible which helped me to stay productive, active, and avoid being physically or mentally sluggish. I was staying mentally, emotionally, and even physically healthy by utilizing “What’s Next?” as a guide. This is usually a pretty good litmus test for those making a living at their art and those who don’t.

WHEN YOU’RE REACHING AND LEAPING, DO IT WITH WONDER The last two years, I have learned a lot about myself, my career, and the world around me. Mostly of my take away has been how it all fits and works together. It’s why I have endeavored to finish writing a book which takes my own personal experiences and use them to craft an autobiographical narrative which helps encourage and elucidate young artists in their journey. The previous entry was an sample portion of a chapter in the book that I am crafting. My hope is that the book will create a powerful three pronged spotlight. One which illuminates: 1) the corporate structure of performers’ careers, 2) The powerful triumvirate needed to create a competitive artist, and 3) an the glue on how it all works together in an empowering, inspiring narrative to help support the next generation of performers toward being the best they can be!

This previous chapter talked about moving to the next level of one’s career. For me, I found five commonalities with those working in careers where there are continual new levels to explore. Those five commonalities began with creating a fully crafted vision, and having faith in it. Then, (#2) taking tangible next steps in the now, which are sometimes (#3) sacrifices. All while (#4) getting comfortable being uncomfortable in many of those sacrifices, and after each goal has been achieved asking (#5) ‘What’s Next?’. They are five commonalities of those on the path of success and five ways/questions to ask yourself to see where you are in that journey. In my book, I’ll have additional writings to accompany this one which explain some of the previous work and personal theories which fuel each chapter, but for now I’ll just say that NONE of those five questions should be asked without a sense of wonder behind it. I believe it to be imperative that each step of one’s career (like everything in life) be approached with a sense of wonder. When you ‘wonder’ you are expressing a true love for something. and replace asking more questions in the spot where your assumptions arise, it will transform your life. It will cause you to seek opportunities at every level, and the questions it will get you asking will be in alignment to the five I previously mentioned, if not them exactly. So as you are reaching that next place in your journey and are taking a new big leap in your career, do it with a sense of wonder.

I hope you found value in this post.

Best,

Brian J. Patterson “Only love can truly save the world!” - Wonder Woman

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ambitionsource · 5 years

Photo

AMBITION Season 1 ♫ “The World Will Never Be the Same” [ 1.12 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows)

WHILE THE WALLS COME TUMBLING DOWN – The auditions for the coveted summer immersion program unfold. Riley and Lucas attend the Jacobs Arts Gala, while Zay and Charlie make bold choices. Farkle makes a statement, and the sophomore class realizes that in real life, there are no rehearsals.

66 Minutes (18K words) || No warnings apply.

[ ← Before the Storm ] [ S1 Synopsis ] [ Season 2 → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

Cue title sequence.

Over the opening titles, we hear Farkle murmuring to himself and clearly trying to get something in order. As the title sequence fades to black, it seems like he’s got it figured out.

Farkle: Okay. I think – okay. Here goes nothing…

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

Open on a tight screen, emulating the format of an iPhone video. FARKLE MINKUS is alone in the costume loft for a semblance of privacy, the camera in selfie mode. He’s preparing to record, and clearly a man on a mission.

He appears more polished than we’ve seen yet, back in his sharpest blazer and with his hair neatly coiffed although still somewhat untamed. It’s a complete u-turn from how he was starting to mellow over the course of the season.

When he starts to speak, however, that put together facade quickly loses some of its credibility. As he figures out what he wants to say, he’s a bit manic. He’s himself, but also not quite himself at all. Something is off, but he’s indisputably in a frenzy. That much is certain.

As he starts to speak, the purpose of his video becomes clear – and the fact that he doesn’t necessarily intend it to be meant just for him.

Farkle: Obviously, I don’t want my name on all this, but – I don’t know. I’ll leave it up to you to decide how to lay it all out there. You’re good at that. I’m just recording rather than typing because… [ a breath ] It’s a lot. There’s a lot I have to say. So, without further ado: a conclusive series of explanations as to why Farkle Minkus was robbed of a coveted Kossal audition spot, when he deserves it more than anyone else. And here’s why.

This can’t end well. Farkle is impassioned as he kicks off his rant, and as he shifts focus to each subject of his tirade…

INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - DAY

… we’ll be following them while his monologue voices over it. He starts off guns blazing with his former best friend, MAYA HART. She’s in the midst of getting ready for school, rehearsing her Kossal audition number as she goes. She’s practicing 24/7 at this point, she may very well be singing in her sleep.

But she’s also obsessive over it. She’ll hate the way one note came out and start the whole thing over from the beginning, becoming increasingly frustrated with herself. Trying incredibly hard to get that vocal power just right.

Farkle: So, let’s get the obvious out of the way. Maya Hart. Sure, Maya has the vocal chops, and she can do runs for days. But is that really deserving of an audition slot on its own merit? When other candidates were clearly as good, if not better? I mean, we’ve all heard me – I mean, Farkle – sing, I think we can attribute that there’s a clear superior performer between the two.

As she grabs her bag and reaches for her phone, she checks her message thread with Farkle. Their conversation has gone totally dry, the two not having exchanged words since the Kossal school-wide picks went up. However, there’s an ongoing message in her chat box, depicting that she’s been drafting a message for a while to send him.

It’s somewhere between a lecture and an apology. Somewhere between being pissed at him for being so selfish and not being happy for her, but also sincerely sorry that he didn’t get the opportunity when she thinks he deserves it too. Not enough to give it up herself, of course, but definitely starlet empathy. More than anything, it’s clear that she wants to talk to him. She wants them to be friends again.

In the end, she deletes it. Opting not to say anything at all.

As she heads out the door, she passes KATY HART, who is at the tiny kitchen table. She’s working with the sewing machine and doing painstaking alterations to Maya’s audition dress, having basically made it herself.

Farkle: So then, why Maya, if their criteria are so similar? Well, one might go for the obvious gender route, but it’s much more likely that the administration felt their scholarship student might need a little bit more of a boost. Yes, that’s right, Maya is on scholarship – insane, considering how terrible her grades are, am I right? But you know, it’s true, nothing is more compelling a support system than sympathy…

Maya gives her a kiss on the cheek as she leaves, thanking her for working on the dress. Katy pats her cheek, sending her on her way.

INT. RILEY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Next up is RILEY MATTHEWS, starting off her day by adjusting pieces of her moodboard. She’s pinning up her honorary invitation to the Jacobs gala – right next to the “you’re better” notes exchange. She lets her gaze linger on both, a smiling brightening her face as she pulls her bag onto her shoulder.

Farkle: Speaking of sympathy, there’s a lot of that at play when it comes to Riley Matthews. Not necessarily towards her – I mean, who needs sympathy when you’ve got so many power players in your court to uplift you whether or not you earned it. Think about it, her father is a teacher, her uncle is counselor and essentially second principal and was, in fact, one of the four on the panel for judging. So of course they’re going to give a spot to Riley, especially given how much dirty work she’s done for them this year…

On her way out, she touches the beautiful lavender evening gown hanging on the back of her door. It’s clear she’s far more excited about the gala than she was before.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Focus shifts from Riley to LUCAS FRIAR, not in the technician’s booth but the boys dressing room. It may be the first time he’s ever willingly stepped foot in the space.

He’s in front of the mirror, fumbling with his hair in an attempt to make it look presentable. This is likely the most effort he has ever put into his appearance, and it’s clear he’s not having an easy time of it. No matter how much he fusses with it to make it look neater, he’s not pleased with it.

Farkle: I mean, why else would she put in the effort to befriend jackass Lucas James Friar, other than by special request from her favorite counselor uncle in an attempt to make sure he doesn’t make a hit list or some shit considering he’s so openly pathetic. Riley Matthews doesn’t need sympathy, but she’s sure good at giving it…

A text comes through on his phone, disrupting his stress. It’s from his mother. “Let me know about MC ASAP please. App deadline this weekend.”

Lucas takes this reminder in, glancing at himself in the mirror once again. Still fundamentally dissatisfied. Lots to think about… lots riding on his hair not looking like a mess…

INT. FOSTER HOME - KITCHEN - DAY

For ISADORA DE LA CRUZ, the morning involves dodging her younger foster siblings as she tries to get half a meal in before rushing off to school. TESSA CHAN bumps into her while chasing JULIAN NORTH (12) around the kitchen, causing her to snap at them both.

She grabs her phone before she heads out, checking another text from Riley. It’s clear she’s gotten quite a few from her over the past few days, essentially begging her to take her audition slot for Kossal. An interesting choice…

Farkle: Which explains why of all the people she could be attempting to pawn off her audition slot to, she picks Isadora Smackle. Oh, sorry, I mean De La Cruz. She’s had a rough year, with all her famous mom business coming out, so I guess it makes sense that she deserves one shot to prove she actually can live up to the family business without having to do any work for it. Sucks that it’s so late notice her best friend won’t even be there, as he’ll be too busy on his pity date with Riley. How tragic.

Isadora doesn’t answer, shuffling out the door.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

ZAY BABINEAUX is rehearsing his routine for the auditions, clearly having been in the studio for more than an hour or so already. He’s drenched in sweat, shaking his head, his nerves throwing him off. He can only practice it so many times over before it starts to fall apart.

Farkle: I’d mention Zay, but considering he’s always bragging about how he’s so above all the drama, I guess we’ll see how he feels when he’s not mentioned at all. He does claim to be so constantly overlooked, after all.

Zay finishes another round, obviously not happy with it. He collapses into a sitting position, tugging at his hair before hiding his head against his knees. Pushing himself to the brink.

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

Farkle rounds out the rant, letting out a resounding exhale. Considering how breathlessly he delivered it, it’s amazing he didn’t pass out. He concludes the recording by sharing the same sentiments he declared all the way back at the start of the year – he’s the next big thing, he’s not going anywhere, and this belongs to him. Regardless of what other people have decided or what other factors try to get in his way. And no one should ever damn forget it.

As he ends the recording, the screen returns to normal. Farkle takes a moment to save the video, preparing to send it. After a moment, it becomes clear to whom: AAA Confessions.

He types out a quick message explaining again that he simply recorded the video because there was a lot of content to type, they should put them into separate posts and do whatever with the images, etc. He doesn’t want credit, he just wants these truths known.

A second of hesitation conveys that Farkle isn’t as war-mongering as he seems. While his thumb hovers over the send button, there’s the distinct feeling that he knows this can’t be the right avenue for dealing with things. There’s a part of him who wants to take it back before he even puts it out there.

Yet, he hits send anyway. He releases a huge sigh, exiting out of the private messages and checking the page for himself. It’s been abnormally quiet the last week or so, no new posts present since Wyatt was brought in for questioning. Some are even wondering if the page is dead for good. It’s not clear whether Farkle believes that or not.

While he feels a bit cleansed just to vent all of his frustrations, he doesn’t seem nearly as satisfied as he thought he would be. Something still feels empty.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” as performed by Tears For Fears || Performed by Farkle Minkus

The opening tones of the track trickle in as Farkle makes his way down the ladder of the costume loft, back into the darkened and empty auditorium.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

He launches into the song as he makes his way into the glow from the ghost light at center stage, illuminating him in shadow. In spite of its upbeat vibe, Farkle’s rendition of the song speaks truthfully to the ominous undertones that the lyrics provide.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Farkle continues the solo as he parades through the halls. The school is shifting around them, gearing up for summer. The remnants of sophomore year are tumbling down… nothing ever lasts forever…

As Farkle wraps the track, he saunters backwards and disappears into the crowd of students. Focus shifts to CHARLIE GARDNER instead, heading towards the studio classrooms. He’s carrying a thermos and moving with an impressive amount of enthusiasm for so early in the morning. As he finds the correct studio and steps through the door –

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Charlie enters just as Zay is wrapping up another run through of his audition, having managed to pull himself out of a heap on the floor to do it again. Charlie hangs back for a moment to watch, entranced as usual, before he announces his arrival. It totally disrupts Zay’s flow, causing him to jog and turn off the music.

As they get to talking and Charlie asks how it’s going, Zay’s nerves about the audition become more evident. He’s frustrated that he keeps messing up steps, somehow he’s always a couple beats behind or ahead, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. He’s totally wigging out, which he never has before.

Charlie reassures him, placing the thermos on the piano top with Zay’s speaker so that he can grab his shoulders and tell him to get a grip. He’s stressing way too hard for someone so naturally gifted, and there’s no way the judges aren’t going to like whatever he does.

Charlie: I mean, at this point with Riley maybe or maybe not participating and Maya distracted by beefing with Farkle, you could probably walk on that stage and do Teach Me How to Dougie and they’d still pick you.

Zay: It’s just “dougie” – nevermind, I don’t have the energy to explain this to you.

Zay laughs mockingly, not buying it. Charlie claims he’s got a pretty light week, so if it would be useful, he can put in the time to help him rehearse.

Zay: You really don’t have to do that.

Charlie: Nah, it’s cool. I want to.

So now we’re doing things because we want to, huh? Charlie grabs the thermos as Zay gathers his things, handing it to him when they’re back together. He questions it at first, before Charlie goes on to explain that it’s his mother’s chicken soup recipe. It’s basically a certified energizer potion, and he knew he’d been working himself to the bone so he figured he might need it.

Zay: [ after taking a sip ] This is like witchcraft. I thought you Catholics didn’t believe in that nonsense.

Charlie can’t help but laugh, patting Zay on the shoulder as the two of them head to class.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Riley is at her locker, killing time before class but keeping a careful eye out in the halls. She double takes when she spots Lucas leaving the dressing room hall, quickly closing her locker and jogging to catch up to him.

He slows down and turns to look for her when she calls his name, waiting for her to reach him. The two of them keep walking as she greets him enthusiastically, before getting distracted.

Riley: Did you do something new with your hair?

Lucas: What? Oh, no. No, uh, just [ with air quotes ] “woke up like this,” or whatever.

Riley: Oh. Well, it looks nice. You’re still coming on Friday, right?

Lucas: Planning on it. Unless you were thinking – ?

Riley: No! No, no change of plans. Just wanted to confirm. I’ll text you deets later today, Eric is supposed to give me the whole spiel this afternoon.

Lucas: Okay. Cool.

Riley: Cool… yeah. Yeah, cool. Super cool.

Lucas asks if Riley was able to figure out the whole conflict with the Kossal audition. He reiterates that she should go to that if she wants to and shouldn’t even bother with the gala just because she already extended an invitation to him, but she waves him off. She states that she’s working on the fix, but as far as she’s concerned she’s going to the gala – audition resolved or not. So he shouldn’t make any other plans.

As she flutters away, Lucas watches her go. He can’t help but smile a bit before he heads in the other direction.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Maya is on the front steps with DARBY WINTERS, SARAH CARLSON, and CHAI FRESCO, back to her old throng now that she and Farkle have cut ties. She’s holding court while Darby plays with her hair, trying out some new styles for her upcoming audition. Chai and Sarah are researching makeup palettes, but Maya vetoes everything they come up with. It’s clear she has no idea what her “look” is going to be like, and this is because of the fact that her dress isn’t finished yet.

Chai points out that it’s taking an awfully long time for her to get her aesthetic together, considering the audition is in like three days. Shouldn’t she know her dress by now? Maya manages to redirect, claiming she’s best when she’s working on the fly. The dress is simply taking so long because it’s being custom-made by a New York designer that she has connections with as a favor. She doesn’t want to rush an artist.

Sarah and Darby are impressed and chatter about it, but Chai doesn’t look all that convinced as she goes back to makeup palettes.

Farkle appears at the other end of the hall, locking eyes with Maya when she raises her head from her phone. They hold eye contact for a long moment, but neither of them move to say anything. Farkle heads in the other direction.

Darby pulls her hair too tightly, pulling her out of the moment. She winces and slaps at Darby’s hand, earning a quick apology from her.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

ANGELA MOORE is seated across from JACK HUNTER, the mood bittersweet. She’s finalizing her resignation paperwork.

Jack reminds her that it’s hardly an official goodbye, as he has the paperwork for her part-time position right there on his desk. She laughs anxiously, grateful for his attempt at making this feel less serious than it is. She admits that she mostly just can’t believe that she’s trying her hand at this crazy dream again.

He reaches out and pats her hand, assuring her that she is one of the most talented people he has ever met. She has what it takes, just like any of the students they teach every day. Angela clearly takes the sentiment to heart, squeezing his hand back before releasing a sigh and passing over the signed paperwork. Despite how many times this dreamy drama coach and analytical principal have butt heads, it is clear they hold an unwavering respect for one another.

Jack asks her how the students reacted to the news, revealing that Angela actually hasn’t told them yet. He’s surprised, and urges her to break the news sooner rather than later. She doesn’t want to leave them hanging only to not be there the way they expect next year. She’s hesitant, but she knows he’s right. She doesn’t have any idea how.

Their conversation is interrupted when Lucas shows up in the doorway. Jack expresses surprise, wondering if he forgot a disciplinary meeting or something. Lucas claims he just wants a second to talk, but he gets the vibe from Angela that maybe he’s interrupting something important and can come back later.

Jack waves him off, dismissing Angela warmly and shaking her hand as she gets up to leave. As she passes Lucas in the doorway and he steps inside, she gives him a tight nod. Then she’s gone, leaving the two of them alone.

Lucas nosily asks what is up with Miss Moore, but Jack changes tracks back to the subject at hand and asks him what he stopped by for. Lucas claims it’s sort of a weird request, to which Jack blithely points out that there has never been one conversation between them that has not weirded him out in one way or another.

Lucas: Do you have a suit jacket I could borrow?

Jack, somewhat amused: Considering my typical workplace attire, I’d say yes, I probably have one I can spare. Dare I ask why…?

Lucas: Well, Riley invited me to this gala thing, and it’s supposedly a pretty spiffy to-do or whatever, so…

Jack: Oh, you’re going to the Jacobs gala?

Lucas: Is that a problem?

Jack: No, no. Not at all. Not what I would’ve anticipated if you asked me six months ago, I’ll admit, but certainly not a problem.

Jack goes on to explain that he’ll also be attending, and plans to carpool with Eric and Riley.

Jack: If it would be helpful, I could swing by and pick you up on the way to get them. If that’s something you’d be interested in.

Lucas: Uh, yeah. Yeah, that would be great actually.

Jack: Excellent. Sounds like a plan, then.

Lucas: [ clearly weirded out by the pleasantness of the conversation ] Okay. Great.

Jack: Great.

Lucas blinks at him, then reaches forward and knocks the pen Angela was using off the desktop before rushing out.

Jack: Not every conversation we have has to end with you knocking something over!

Lucas: [ from outside ] Weird!

Jack shakes his head, but he can’t help but smile in amusement. He picks up the pen from the ground, looking over Angela’s paperwork with a sigh.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Everything is falling into place – except one slight detail. Riley chases after Isadora as they make their way to the auditorium, making one last plea for her to take the audition spot on Friday. Despite Riley’s enthusiastic ramblings as to why she should invest in the opportunity, Isadora is highly skeptical. She asks why she doesn’t just give the spot to say, Farkle, since he’s being such a brat about the whole thing anyway.

Riley concedes this point, admitting that she could surely give the slot to any of their classmates. But she wants to give it to Isadora, as she tries to make clear as they enter the auditorium.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

A few of their classmates are already seated in the first few rows, Riley and Isadora some of the earliest to arrive. Riley manages to slide in front of Isadora, walking backwards down the aisle in front of her and trying to get her to listen.

Riley: Izzy, you are talented. So talented. And I know that you don’t believe it, so you’re never going to take the steps to get these opportunities yourself. [ off Isadora’s irritated look ] If you take this one, maybe you’ll see that this is something you were born to do, just as much as the rest of us. Please. Please?

Isadora: [ hesitating, then sighing ] I may have brainstormed a couple of potential numbers in the off-chance that you didn’t let this go –

Riley: Yes! Yes!

Riley claps excitedly and basically skips the rest of the way to their seats, already pulling Isadora into eager conversation about it. So it’s settled – Isadora will be taking the third Kossal audition slot for AAA.

As the rest of the class files in, SHAWN HUNTER takes center stage and works to gather their attention. He gives a brief overview of what the last week of classes is going to look like, discussing their final exams which will involve solo performances or projects of their choice and will be presented to Shawn and Angela only.

While he speaks, Maya waits impatiently in the front and center seat, bouncing her legs and exchanging tense eye contact with him. Finally, Shawn sighs, wrapping up his opening spiel and deferring to Maya who clearly requested permission to take the stage beforehand. She leaps up without hesitation, jogging up onto the stage as Shawn exits.

All eyes on her, Maya claims that in spirit of camaraderie – and also in the search for feedback – she has already prepared her Kossal audition ahead of time and would appreciate if she could give a preview performance. She also makes a subtle dig at Farkle, which is pointed considering her whole number is about to be a rather large “screw you.”

Maya: And just in case anybody had forgotten, I earned my audition. Hopefully, this will remind you all of why.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Diamonds Are Forever” as performed by Sabrina Carpenter || Performed by Maya Hart

A ballsy and banging vocal display, Maya shreds through the pop track with an energy that could only be described as defiant. It’s as impressive as her solo from the pilot and her audition just an episode ago, but it’s alive with something much more raw and intrinsically her. It’s on fire, and that’s a whole other level for Miss Hart.

Still, there’s something about the performance that doesn’t deliver right. Because it’s driven with such a petty edge, it doesn’t quite land. On one of the repetitions of “Money don’t buy class,” she make a very pointed head tilt towards Farkle and they lock eyes. He slouches further in his seat, crossing his arms and looking away.

Circling around her, the light throws her in shadow as we transition…

INT. AUDITION HALL - THEATER - NIGHT

… to Maya’s actual audition, flash forwarding to Friday evening. The lighting is far more dramatic, the auditorium unfamiliar and grandiose. Maya is in her finished audition dress, a killer black number with stunning hair and makeup to match. The stage is backlit behind her and a spotlight shows her in her full diva glory.

In the darkness of the auditorium, a panel of judges lift their gazes, jot notes, etc. They’re shrouded in shadow, and far less reactive and friendly than the familiar faculty judges. It’s impossible to tell what they think of the performance, despite how damningly good it is.

This version of the performance carries us to the end, the angle of the camera lining up so that the fiery mezzo is cast in shadow. Leaving the atmosphere tumultuous, a bit uncertain…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Maya wraps up the number as the piano tinkles out the last couple chords, obviously more emotionally vulnerable than she intended to get. She takes a deep breath, letting out a curt little “thank you” before excusing herself from the stage.

Everyone else hangs in the quiet, not sure how to react or what to say. Farkle watches her disappear into the wings, clenching his jaw.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Isadora joins Lucas in the booth, taking a minute to find him. He’s back by his nook, gathering some things to take back to his apartment for the weekend. When he asks what she wants, she begins to explain before getting stuck on another change.

Isadora: [ with a sneer ] What did you do to your hair?

Lucas, embarrassed, fusses it up with his hand and shrugs offhandedly, mumbling an explanation. But Isadora is already past it, explaining that she’ll be auditioning for the Kossal program. When Lucas expresses shock, she elaborates.

Isadora: Riley passed her spot off to me. She said she had some other conflict that she deemed more important.

Lucas: Oh. [ a beat ] Oh…

Isadora is clearly excited about the opportunity, in spite of how aloof she’s attempting to come off. She questions if he’ll be able to help her rehearse, or at least guarantee that he’ll be there. Everything is unfolding so fast, Lucas can hardly keep up.

Isadora: You are going to be there, right? I don’t think I can do this if you’re not there. I know it’s not your scene at all –

Lucas, blankly: I can’t. I have another commitment.

Isadora: Seriously? [ snorting ] What else do you have going on?

Not an unfair comment, but a bit harsh. Lucas gives her a look, and she apologizes quickly before reiterating how important it is to her that he be there. Lucas stares at her, clearly torn. He doesn’t want to let her down…

Lucas: I’ll see what happens. Maybe I can get out of the thing early. Might need a convenient escape route, actually, depending on how things go –

Although Lucas says it all noncommittally and doesn’t sound optimistic, for Isadora it’s as good as a guaranteed yes. Her strength has never been taking tone or verbal cues into consideration, so in her eyes it’s a done deal. He’s going to be there. She can move forward with it because she knows he’ll have her back.

Oh, boy.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Farkle is waiting in the hall outside the girls dressing room, nervously checking the AAAC. As it has been for days, it remains dead quiet. As if that doesn’t make his anxiety about the whole thing worse… it’s not clear whether he wants it to update or wants confirmation that it will never post again.

He’s torn from it as Maya emerges from the dressing room, pulled back together but cheeks flushed. She snaps at him, asking what he’s doing hanging around. He straightens up and clears his throat, claiming that she said she wanted feedback before launching into a list of every single imperfection of her performance in a passive-aggressive tirade.

Maya elects to continue ignoring him, brushing her hair out of her face and heading towards the doors to the rest of the school. It’s the dismissal that truly makes Farkle snap.

Farkle: What, do you really think you’re so much better than me all the sudden? Just because of one audition?

Maya: Bye, Farkle.

Farkle: As if the only reason you have this spot over me isn’t because of charity?

Maya freezes, totally hit by that comment. It knocks at the one insecurity Farkle knows she has, that she’s been desperately trying to keep a secret for so long.

She whips around, marching back over to him and getting right in his face. The intensity of the movement startles him, causing him to fumble back against the wall before he manages to regain his composure and match her glare. Maya claps back at him for his terrible attitude, lamenting how horrible of a friend he is. Her words are sharp, but not necessarily untrue.

Maya: Yeah, maybe I don’t have any money. Maybe I can’t afford to come to this school or dress the part without a little bit of help. And if people knew, maybe that’s all they’d see. But at least I have respect. At least I’m not so consumed with inferiority that I have to turn on people the moment they prove themselves an actual talent. At least I have friends.

[ Farkle clearly doesn’t know what to say. He swallows, jutting out his chin. ]

Maya: [ looking him over ] Well, one less friend, now. But that’s nothing.

Farkle absorbs the blow, hanging back as Maya storms off. She wipes a couple of tears from her eyes as she pushes through the doors in a huff, but he doesn’t see them.

He waits until she’s long gone to deflate, falling back against the wall before sliding down and crumbling into a crouch. He tucks his head against his knees, like he’s trying to disappear.

As the contrastingly upbeat tones of Zay’s rehearsal track fade in…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Greatest” as performed by Sia || Instrumental

Thursday. One day left before the auditions.

Zay and Charlie are rehearsing his number together, the latter having picked it up surprisingly fast. They both perform the choreography with equal vigor, side-by-side on the stage and helping one another keep the pace. It’s a lot of fun to watch them dance it, each of them bringing their own little touches to the moves but also maintaining perfect sync – but it’s somewhat telling that Charlie seems to be outshining Zay. He’s loose, uninhibited, whereas Zay is stiff. Too in his head. Truly a role reversal.

Nearing the end of the routine, Zay steals a glance at Charlie to see how he’s faring. This throws off his precarious hold on the choreography entirely, causing him to stumble and trip right into Charlie. The two of them collapse in a heap with a resounding cuss from Zay and a yelp from Charlie, landing on the stage with a pointed thud.

Charlie slams onto his back and Zay fumbles on top of him, immediately apologizing and trying to check them both for serious injury.

Zay: Man, I’m so sorry. I know you’d offered to help, but I don’t think that involved breaking your limbs. Are you okay?

It’s hard to say. Charlie seems just about brain dead, mouth parted open as he tries to catch his breath and staring at Zay hovering over him. For a tense moment, it seems as though he might say something… perhaps might do something…

Charlie: [ clearing his throat ] Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.

They disentangle themselves, Charlie wincing as he pushes himself into a sitting position. Zay blithely points out that that impromptu ending is exactly how his prospects feel at the moment, like they’re going to crash and burn any second.

Charlie watches him for a long moment, then explains that he still thinks Zay’s form is too strict. Ironic, considering he’s never had an issue with that before. He tries to figure out why Zay is putting so much stake into this whole thing – he’s never seemed too bugged by auditions in the past – but Zay redirects and asks why Charlie didn’t bother to audition. He knows he’s going through some stuff right now, but so is he. So is everyone. Charlie shrugs it off.

Charlie: It’s not a big deal. I’m just a supporting player, you know.

Zay: No, you’re not. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re just as talented as the rest of us? Especially given that you just danced my own routine better than I did.

[ Charlie huffs out a laugh, dipping his head down and looking at the floor. ]

Zay: You’re some of the best we’ve got… when you let yourself be seen.

Charlie locks eyes with him, letting the sentiment sink in. Then he shrugs again, pointing out that he has a major family obligation the same evening as the district-wide ones anyway. It didn’t seem worth the stress. Zay is a bit put off by this reveal, as he sort of hoped that Charlie was going to be there to see him audition.

It’s evident Charlie didn’t even realize that was something Zay would want. He starts to try and come up with a solution but Zay waves him off, assuring him that it’s no big deal. And good thing, because Charlie doesn’t have any simple fixes to his scheduling dilemma. Unfortunate.

INT. AAA - TEACHER’S LOUNGE - DAY

Angela is with Shawn in the teacher’s lounge, lamenting how she doesn’t know how the hell she is going to tell the students that she’s leaving. Shawn points out that she’s only got two class periods left considering she won’t be here for the last three days next week, so she better figure it out lest she leave them scarred upon their last week of sophomore year.

Teasing aside, Shawn basically dishes out the same advice she is constantly giving all of their students. That if this is truly important to her, then she should just talk from the heart and the message will come through. Or you know, whatever.

It sounds like he’s got the right idea. Angela nods, smiling lightly and leaning forward to give him a light kiss.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

All of the students are assembled for class, discussing the end of the year. Maya asks Zay how he’s doing in preparing for his audition, which he does not want to talk about. Charlie speaks up and claims that Zay is going to do great, which Farkle – seated by himself a couple rows away and isolated – states must be true, because it would be super difficult to do worse than Maya.

Before she can fire back, Riley begs all of them to stop the stupid bickering. The techies nod in agreement, Lucas piping up from next to Riley.

Lucas: It was so nice when you all were tolerable for like two months there.

Maya: Oh, as opposed to you who has been tolerable… never?

Angela interrupts the cat fights as she kicks up class, stating that she needs to share a major announcement with them. All of the students, particularly the performers, perk up and give her their undivided attention.

It’s hard to speak with all of them looking up at her so trustingly. She glances to Shawn in the row behind the techies, who gives her an encouraging nod. She takes a deep breath, going on to explain that she’s been offered a role in an off-Broadway production. She allows a pause for them to break into excited chatter, applauding and congratulating her enthusiastically.

Then she takes the reins again, voice a little shakier as she continues with the fact that she will be stepping down from her position as performance coach at AAA and thusly, as their instructor. She intends to stay on faculty part-time, so it’s not a total goodbye, but there will be a new teacher coming into the role next fall.

All of the students are surprised. The performers are stunned speechless, especially the divas. Farkle looks absolutely shattered, jaw hanging open and expression blank.

Angela pauses, gathering her composure before getting out one last sentiment. It may be the most important speech she thinks she’ll ever make.

Angela: When I first started at this school, I felt it beneath me. It felt like something to do to pass the time, an unwelcome detour on my personal trip to the top. I thought that there was nothing for me to gain out of this place other than a paycheck and a way to get my parents off my back. I have never been happier to be wrong. [ a beat ] There are things I’ve learned here and experienced here that I would never find anywhere else. About passion, showmanship, collaboration, compromise. The joy of seeing all of you so brimming with talent and ready to share it with one another, with the world, that it reminded me how to find my own again. So even though this isn’t goodbye, I want it to be clear that you will always be one of my most important stops.

Lastly, she wants to give back to them one of the many countless moving, brilliant, impassioned performances they’ve given her over the past couple years. Without further ado…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “What I Did For Love” as performed by A Chorus Line Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Angela Moore (feat. AAA Sophomores)

Angela starts the classic Broadway tune off softly, still emotional and not sure she’ll be able to make it through without losing her resolve. But as she looks out at the faces of her students – proud, sentimental, in shock – she manages the power to keep going.

As it progresses, the students begin getting up from the seats and jogging to join their teacher on the stage. Even the techies make their way up to join the group, hanging back to allow the performers to have their moment but paying their respects to Angela all the same.

Angela shares a small moment with each of the performing students, giving them hugs and hand shakes and soft smiles. She gives Charlie a hug and then ruffles his hair. Zay is given a warm hug, and Maya gives her a little cheeky bow once they pull apart.

Farkle is the last to receive his goodbye, choked up as he accepts her embrace. When he hugs her back, it’s clear that he’s holding on for dear life. He lingers longer than anyone else, not wanting to let go.

As the number draws to a close, Angela hangs in the moment harmonizing with her beloved students. They stand in a close circle with the techies hanging back and watching respectfully. The camera eases out and disappears into the dark of the wings, leaving them in peace…

INT. FOSTER HOME - ISADORA’S ROOM - NIGHT

Isadora is attempting to practice for the audition tomorrow, but she can hardly hear herself think let alone rehearse. CATHERINA GONZALEZ is pacing and chatting loudly on her phone with a friend, and the younger siblings are causing chaos just outside the door.

The situation is unbearable. Desperate for a change of scenery, Isadora heads into the hall.

INT. FOSTER HOME - ENTRYWAY - NIGHT

Isadora is already gearing up to head out, phone pressed to her ear. She’s impatient as she heads down the stairs, letting out a curse under her breath.

Isadora: Come on, pick up –

She frowns, pulling her phone back into her hand. It’s clear that she’s trying to call Riley, but the line is coming back as busy.

INT. RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

That’s because Riley is already on the phone. She’s pacing her room, unable to stay still as she converses with Lucas on the other end of the line. She’s giving him all of the last minute details for tomorrow evening.

INT/EXT. LUCAS’S BEDROOM / LUCAS’S FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT

Lucas is cooped up on his fire escape, listening intently to everything Riley says. She asks if he’s sure he wants to come along, and he assures her that he’s not going to bail on her now. She checks to see if there’s anything else they need to work out, or if there’s anything she should know about before tomorrow.

There’s a beat of hesitation, where it is clear Lucas is thinking about Isadora. But he opts not to get into it, stating he’s all good and that he’s looking forward to it. Riley returns the sentiment, both of them bashful as they hang up.

INT. FOSTER HOME - ENTRYWAY - NIGHT

Left hanging, Isadora is forced to go to her next best option. There’s a moment of uncertainty as she scrolls through contacts, hovering over one name in particular. This person has been helpful and harmful in the past, but at present it feels like the only chance she has…

She hits dial, raising her phone to her ear once again.

INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Maya escorts Isadora into her cramped apartment, not bothering to be shy about it considering Isadora is already aware of her scholarship status. Maya makes a point of introducing Isadora to Katy, who is hunched over the sewing machine and doing the finishing touches on Maya’s audition dress. Isadora explains that they’ve met before through the diner, but Katy happily greets her anyway and claims it’s nice to see her again.

Katy informs Maya that she thinks she’s just about done, lifting the gown so that she can see. Maya is elated and incredibly grateful, running up to marvel over it and holding up against herself. She gives her mother a kiss on the cheek and showers her in thank yous, Isadora watching the warm exchange with mild interest. Such familiarity between mother and daughter is obviously new to her.

Then Maya pulls Isadora further into the space, gearing up to get some practice in as promised. Maya is already monologuing about how they can perform for one another and give each other notes, but it is evident that Isadora is simply happy to have any assistance at all.

INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT

Family dinner is on again at the Minkus house, this one even more lively as EZEKIEL MINKUS (20) has returned home from his first year of college for the summer. Undoubtedly the golden child of the Minkus clan, Ezekiel exudes easygoing confidence and soft temperament that not many of the other Minki possess. He mellows the room just with his presence, and it is no wonder that he is Farkle’s favorite sibling.

He holds court as dinner progresses, detailing all of the adventures of his freshman year to his captive audience. JENNIFER MINKUS listens appreciatively and EZRA MINKUS reacts accordingly in between stabbing at his peas, but none of them are as enraptured by the seemingly charmed promises of friendship, fun, and belonging of university life as Farkle. He’s giving Ezekiel his rapt attention, his food long forgotten on his plate.

LILA MINKUS looks less impressed by her older brother’s bragging. She stabs at her food and keeps her head down, URI MINKUS similarly not paying much attention and waiting for the chance to ask to be excused. In fact, he does so, but Jennifer shoots him down and berates him for trying to rush off so quickly when even more of their family is present than usual. He’ll be able to retreat to his bedroom and block them all out again soon enough, so he can wait a few minutes longer.

Jennifer asks Farkle if he’s looking forward to his last week of classes. He shrugs, claiming that nothing exciting is going on and that his favorite teacher just announced that she’s leaving. The family empathizes, particularly Ezekiel. He recommends that Farkle make the effort to make sure that teacher knows how much she impacted him as her student.

Ezekiel: Considering your admiration is bold enough to state she’s your favorite, I think you’ll want her to know. People only know how much they mean to you if you let them know, as connections are only as meaningful as the effort you put into them. Coming off my first year away, I feel like I know that better than anything.

Lila subtly rolls her eyes at the usual golden brother antics, but Farkle actually seems to be listening. He chews on the notion as the conversation shifts off of him and back to Ezekiel.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Friday morning has finally arrived. As if to commemorate the excitement, AAA Confessions reboots itself with its first post in days. Farkle gets a wave of panic when he sees the notification that they have posted on his phone, immediately going to the app to check it.

It’s nothing major – in fact, it’s hardly a post at all. There’s a blank photo, the caption seemingly celebrating how close they are to the end of the year. “Fear not, AAA starlets. The grand finale is nearly upon us.”

Farkle heaves a sigh of relief. He’s growing to dread the moment that his earlier submission might see the light of day. So long as the page isn’t discussing him or his friends, he figures he’s in the clear.

He shuts his locker, scurrying off to class.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Zay is painstakingly running through his routine one more time, Charlie watching intently. He claps out the beats for him, pacing. When he sticks his landing, at least without falling this time, Charlie transitions his timekeeping into actual applause. He tells him that he’s doing a great job and it came together – it is him, after all. Would be hard for it not to be great.

Zay does not seem convinced. He’s still alight with anxious energy, but he takes the compliment anyway. Not like he has much time left anyway. Charlie lets his gaze linger on him for a few moments, then decides to speak.

Charlie: Can I be brutally honest?

Zay: You? If you think you can.

Charlie: [ laughing, then pausing ] … I think you’re relying too heavily on your dance ability.

There’s a long pause. Then Zay raises a finger at him, trying to silence him.

Zay: You shut your mouth.

Charlie hastens to explain his perspective, pointing out that Zay is a brilliant dancer. Certainly one of the best they’ve got. But he’s an awesome vocalist too, and this audition he’s crafted doesn’t speak to any of that. He’s putting himself in a box when he’s far too dynamic for that. He’s hiding behind his dancing, and if he really wants to make an impression for Kossal he should just forgo all of the pizazz and glitz and tricks and just perform. Give them something from the soul, because Charlie knows he’s not short on that. Just stand there, sing, and show them how indisputably talented he is.

It’s a nice sentiment, and honestly holds quite a bit of truth. But with the audition looming so close and his nerves already shot, Zay is not in the headspace to hear it. He snaps at Charlie instead, telling him that he’s wrong and he thinks he should just leave him alone. He wants to get another practice in before class.

Reluctantly, Charlie obliges. He wishes him luck that evening, assuring him that he’ll give it his best before disappearing into the wings. Zay waits until he’s gone then exhales a sigh, kicking at his duffle bag and rubbing his face. As the bell rings –

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Angela is in her classroom as the week comes to an end, finishing up boxing up her things. She stands for a moment in the nearly empty classroom, wondering how much it will change next year in her absence. Soaking up the memory of it before she bids it farewell.

Farkle comes by, knocking lightly on the door and asking if she has a second. She welcomes him in happily, stating that she figured he would come around at some point. But she warns him playfully that he’s not going to be able to change her mind on this, so there’s no point in kicking off one of his infamous arguments.

He raises his hands in surrender, pointing out that what she’s about to do sounds like the dream. He would never try to convince her otherwise. He saunters further into the room, stuffing his hands in his pockets and nudging her into conversation about how she’s feeling about the change. It must feel crazy, having made it after struggling so long for her shot.

Angela pauses, thinking about it. She comes around from behind her desk, speaking plainly with him and being completely candid. She explains that it feels more meaningful now than it would’ve back then, she thinks.

Farkle: Why?

Angela: Believe it or not, the goal itself isn’t everything. There’s such a difference in accomplishing something you’ve worked so hard for and then being able to turn to someone you love and share in that moment with them. Now that I have people in my corner and didn’t just drop them in pursuit of it all, the strides I’m making feel so much more… real. You know? In some ways, I have to wonder if my approach to it the first time was what ended up fucking me over.

[ Farkle takes this in. Angela gives him a smile, lightly touching his shoulder. ]

Angela: The dream is all-consuming. It’s true… but there has to be room for other things, too. There has to be, otherwise it’s just… empty.

This strikes Farkle in a way he wasn’t expecting. She squeezes his shoulder before getting to her feet, focusing back on packing her things.

EXT. NEW YORK - NIGHT

Night falls over the city as the most important evening of sophomore year looms closer. As the night comes to life, the auditionees prepare for their debut.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - NIGHT

Zay descends from the second floor of his house, dressed comfortably but fashionably and ready to make an impression. DONNA BABINEAUX, OMAR BABINEAUX, and JADA BABINEAUX all applaud him as he comes down the stairs, a bit sarcastic but also genuinely proud.

Jada begins nitpicking his outfit as Omar grabs the car keys. Donna gives her son a kiss on the cheek before ushering him out the door, wishing him luck.

INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Maya does the finishing touches on her makeup in the mirror on the wall, looking like a total knockout in her long black dress. Her mother completes the look by handing her a faux fur coat, classic yet statement-making at the same time. After she dons it she gives Katy a tight hug, accepting a kiss on the top of the head before she breezes out the door.

INT. FOSTER HOME - ENTRYWAY - NIGHT

BLUE NGUYEN is waiting around in the entryway, tossing his keys impatiently. He raises his eyebrows as Isadora descends the stairs with BEATRIX TORRES and Tessa, the two of them having helped her piece together an ensemble and look for the event. Rather than a gown or glamour approach like her fellow auditionees, Isadora is sporting a look that feels more true to who she is, just with the volume turned up – plaid statement pants, a cropped dark top, and of course the classic combat boots. She looks bold, potentially a star in the making – if she can manage to come out of her shell.

As she’s heading out the door, she crafts a text to Lucas to see if he’s on his way or not.

INT. LUCAS’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

The message goes unread, Lucas far too distracted in nitpicking his own appearance. He’s trying his best to feel comfortable in the borrowed suit jacket, unable to decide between tucking in his shirt or leaving it be and resisting the urge to mess up his combed hair. He looks more put together than he has… probably in his entire life. Scrutinizing his reflection in the glass of his balcony window rather than a mirror probably isn’t helping.

He’s pulled out of his self-deprecation when he sees Jack’s car pull up by the curb below. Lucas grabs his phone and gala ticket, stuffing them into his pocket and darting out the door.

EXT. AUDITION HALL - NIGHT

The three auditionees pull up around the same time, Maya emerging from her cab as the other two hop out of their family vehicles. They all size one another up, exchanging cordial head nods and lingering in the peace for a moment as their drivers pull away.

Then it’s a mad dash for the building, all three racing up the steps in a break-neck battle to decide the order of who will be performing when.

INT. AUDITION HALL - ENTRANCE - NIGHT

Maya’s heels click against the floor as they race through the lobby, capturing the same energy as Maya, Farkle, and Zay scrapping to take center stage back on the first day of classes.

Zay makes it to the check-in table first considering he’s not in a dress or heels. He slides up to the sign-in depot and introduces himself breathlessly, triumphant as the check-in person gives him his choice of AAA slots. He opts for the final of the three, tossing a grin to Maya and Isadora as they sidle up behind him. He gestures for them to step up, bowing cheekily before leisurely making his way to the dressing room.

Zay: All yours, ladies.

Maya makes a face at him, before exchanging a look with Isadora. She defers to her, allowing her to choose next seeing as it doesn’t matter much now. Isadora takes the middle slot, giving Maya first string. The check-in person jots this down, giving them general directions to the dressing rooms and theater.

Isadora: [ after Maya marches off ] Sorry about… all that.

Check-In: It’s okay, you’re all like this. We’re used to it.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Ratatouille Main Theme” as performed by Michael Giacchino || Instrumental

Eric eagerly lets in Jack and Lucas as they arrive, explaining that Riley is still upstairs in his apartment but should be down any minute and then they’ll be good to go. Eric cheerfully tells Lucas that it’s nice to see him joining them, and he’s like… yeah, okay.

Lucas zones out as Jack and Eric begin discussing the technicalities of the evening and sharing administrator gossip, only getting pulled back into the present when Jack makes an out of place exclamation. He gives him a funny look, following his gaze to try and figure out what prompted the declaration of surprise.

The moment Lucas looks over his shoulder and sees Riley descending the stairs, it’s as if the whole world stops. He stops breathing. She looks like certified royalty, with her flowy lavender dress and hair pulled back so intricately and her sheer shoulder wrap. She locks eyes with him and immediately smiles, holding his gaze the entire way down.

When she makes it to the main floor and joins them, she gives the group of them a bashful smile. Lucas can’t even look at her, staring at the floor and swallowing.

Riley: I hope I didn’t keep you all waiting too long.

Jack: Oh, please, it’s nothing. Believe me, your uncle has taken longer.

Eric: Oh, hardy har har. You’re hilarious.

As Jack and Eric settle into bickering, Riley turns her attention to Lucas. She lightly touches his arm, waiting for him to meet her eyes.

Riley, softly: You look good.

Lucas, stammering: Pfft, I mean, me? [ scoffing ] Okay…

In whatever unintelligible language Lucas speaks, this is likely a compliment of some kind. Luckily, Riley is learning to be fluent in that dialect, so she accepts the sentiment with a smile.

Eric rallies the troops.

Eric: We best get going or we’re going to be late, and Haverford is going to have something to say about it.

Jack: Always do when it comes to us.

Eric: Precisely. Let’s go, then, team! Roll out!

INT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - NIGHT

The church springfest dinner is in full swing, lots of families in their Sunday best on a Friday night and mingling together. ELEANOR GARDNER is clearly having the time of her life, humoring her colleagues and fielding compliments from all the planning she did for the event.

Charlie is hanging out by one of the food tables with ROSAMUND GARDNER, watching her gorge on carrot sticks as she complains about how bored she is. He assures they all have places they’d rather be, but it’s important to mom that they’re there. She rolls her eyes, stuffing another carrot into her mouth and crunching it pointedly.

As Rosamund gets dragged away by friends, Charlie receives a text message. It’s from Zay, letting him know that he secured the closing slot. Despite his confident demeanor earlier, however, his next couple of messages convey that he’s still fretting over the performance and might be spiraling a little bit.

Charlie drops the celery stick he was chewing on and focuses on a text back, reminding Zay not to panic and to lean into what he’s good at. Do what he’s always telling him, feel it and not overthink. He hits send just as AMBROSE GARDNER saunters over, curiously asking who he’s texting.

Ambrose: Must be serious business. You’ve got quite the look of concentration on.

Charlie: Oh, it’s just uh… Riley. My friend. You remember her, from the winter showcase?

Ambrose: Oh, sure.

Charlie: Yeah. Yeah, she just needed homework help. Last minute.

Ambrose: With two and half days of school left?

Charlie: … well, yeah. That’s why it’s serious business.

Ambrose doesn’t question it, helping himself to a snack from the vegetable tray. Tentatively, Charlie broaches the query of whether it would be at all possible for him to leave a bit early. Like, just a tiny bit. His dad is intrigued and not immediately opposed, so Charlie goes on to explain that there’s this major performance thing going on for his friends at AAA, and he’d really like to be there if he could.

Ambrose contemplates this, taking his time as he chews his celery. Charlie is holding his breath.

Ambrose: Suppose we can see how this function is unfolding by then. What time are you thinking?

Charlie nods, relieved that it’s not a definitive no. This holds promise.

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - LOBBY - NIGHT

The Jacobs Arts Gala is in full swing, and it is certainly a fancy shindig. It was bound to be, because theater nerds love to dress up and pretend they’re important and glamorous. Students and administrators from all over the tri-state area weave their way through the crowds in their best formal wear, heading towards the ballroom where the main ceremonies are unfolding.

Lucas is standing in the midst of this crowd, sticking out like a sore thumb simply because of how overwhelmed he looks. He stares up at the glitz and awe of the fancy setting and even fancier guests, shaking his head lightly.

Lucas, under his breath: Lucas Friar, what have you gotten yourself into…

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - BALLROOM - NIGHT

On the small stage at the front, a swing band keeps the evening going with music as students from the different schools step up and perform selections. Currently on stage is BRANDON RIVAS (16), a sharp-featured and suave sophomore from AAA’s rival, Haverford Prep. He snaps as the band counts him in…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Fly Me To The Moon (In Other Words)” as performed by Frank Sinatra || Performed by Brandon Rivas (of Haverford Prep)

Brandon’s silky smooth vocals take on the Sinatra classic as it floats over the assembled crowd.

Riley is running through the paces of playing student representative, introducing herself to all the important figures. This includes none other than MICHAEL JACOBS, who saunters up to greet her cheerfully. Not struck with nearly the same mythic knowledge of him as her classmates, Riley is able to maintain her cool as she shakes hands with him. She assures him that she’s heard only good things about him, which he seems tickled by.

When he informs her that he’s looking forward to hearing her performance this evening, it’s evident that she has no idea what he’s talking about. Eric slides up and interrupts, laughing and thanking Mr. Jacobs before excusing both them and pulling Riley to the side.

Eric tells her not to panic, but what he neglected to mention to her is that typically, each student representative is slated to perform a song during the ceremonies (i.e. like Brandon). Riley freaks.

Riley: What? I’m sorry, I’m supposed to do what?

Eric: I knew if I told you ahead of time, you’d freak out and potentially not accept the invitation.

Riley: UH-HUH?

Eric: Listen, listen to me, niche. You will be fine. You’ll be fine! You’re best when you’re working on your feet anyway. Just go with your gut. [ off her stunned expression ] Now… go! Enjoy the party! Ha ha.

Riley scoffs, stomping off and muttering to herself as she disappears into the crowd. Eric cringes to himself, watching her go as Jack approaches from behind carrying two flutes of champagne.

Jack: Looks like that went well.

He hands Eric one of the flutes, proposing a toast to the two of them. Sure, it’s been a hell of a year, but they survived it. Didn’t they? The school came together, their biggest adversary seems to have gone into hibernation for good… not too shabby for an analytical principal and his overly involved head counselor.

Eric will definitely drink to that. They raise their glasses, knocking them together with a clink.

Riley has managed to find Lucas, the two of them surveying the dessert table out on display. It’s an assortment of pretty typical yet gourmet desserts, even more intimidating just from how fancifully they’re designed. Riley gestures for Lucas to take one and he shakes his head, keeping his hands clasped together in front of him.

Lucas: No. Mm mm. Don’t trust that.

Riley: What? Why?

Lucas: Doesn’t look like real food.

Riley: [ with a laugh ] What, just because it’s not the staling Oreos in the bottom of your stash in the booth, it’s not real food?

Lucas still refuses, and Riley rolls her eyes. She claims he’s being silly – how is he supposed to know if he doesn’t like something if he won’t give it a chance? He claims he has all the expertise necessary to know not to trust something, but she ignores his rebuttal. Instead, she chooses one of the little pastries and holds it up for him. Patiently waiting, as if she’s going to feed it to him.

He stares at it, then her.

Lucas: I have two hands.

Riley: Well, you’re not using them, are you?

She holds it up indicatively again, raising her eyebrows. Lucas eyes her suspiciously, slowly leaning forward and allowing her to pop it into his mouth.

As it turns out, the pastry isn’t so bad. Lucas chews it thoughtfully while Riley watches in amusement, waiting for the victory of being right in this scenario. She’s startled when a woman taps her on the shoulder, coming over to introduce herself and catching Riley by surprise.

She introduces herself as EVELYN RAND (50s), prominent school board member and Jacobs patron, overseeing the district from Haverford to AAA. She’s heard many good things about Riley, and so she’s been eager to get to meet her. Riley seems genuinely flattered by the notion, the two of them exchanging further niceties.

Evelyn catches sight of Lucas still loitering behind them, calling out to him and gesturing for him to join them. He sheepishly saunters up next to Riley, shaking the hand Evelyn offers him.

Evelyn: Are you a representative as well?

Lucas: Oh, no, I’m uh – I’m just the plus one.

Riley: He might as well be. Lucas is our best student technician at Adams. He can do anything.

Evelyn: Is that so? Yet here you are, Miss Student Representative.

Lucas: Well, she’s the best we have to offer.

Riley locks eyes with him, a soft moment passing between them. Evelyn watches interestedly, raising her eyebrows. Then Lucas backs off, clearing his throat and claiming it was nice to meet Evelyn before sidling back over to the dessert table.

Evelyn watches him go with a twinkle in her eyes, turning her smile back to Riley as she claims she better keep making the rounds. But she emphasizes how nice it was to meet her, and that she cannot wait to see what all of them at AAA accomplish in the next few years. Before she goes, she leans forward to whisper conspiratorially.

Evelyn: [ re: Lucas, approvingly ] He’s cute.

Evelyn gives her a wink, patting her arm and then fluttering back into the crowd. Riley takes a second to catch up to her commentary, a bit caught off-guard but suddenly thinking on the matter. She turns around to look at Lucas again… who is in the process of stuffing another pastry into his mouth. Considering his former indignation, it’s damn charming.

Lucas pauses when he catches her looking, caught. He rolls his eyes, giving her a subtle thumbs up to give her the victory and acknowledge that she was right. Riley can’t help but laugh, and she definitely can’t help but agree with Evelyn’s assessment.

Brandon wraps up his Sinatra impression with a flourish, the orchestra bringing it on home.

INT. AUDITION HALL - THEATER - NIGHT

Isadora is pacing in the wings, about to go on for her audition. She’s pushing it until the last possible second, checking her phone obsessively for a text from Lucas. No such luck.

Maya comes up behind her, informing her that she really needs to go on at this point. Isadora doesn’t look at her, but she ventures the question they both know she’s wondering.

Isadora: Is he here?

Maya, hesitantly: … not that I could see. No.

Isadora steels her gaze, growing more closed off as she stuffs her phone into the pocket of her dress. Maya tries to comfort her, but she brushes her off. She marches onto the stage before she can talk herself out of it.

She squints as she steps into the spotlight, searching for the judges but unable to see anything through the brightness of the lights. In some ways, she supposes that’s better. Easier to pretend that her best friend didn’t neglect to show up on the one night she needs him most if she can’t see the evidence of it.

Once prompted, Isadora introduces herself boldly. Then, she starts to sing.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Here - 2 A.M. Version” as performed by Alessia Cara || Performed by Isadora Smackle

As the mellow chords float in, Isadora lets her emotions pour out through the lyrics. The spotlight is on her on the dark stage, no theatrics, just her standing with a microphone. That’s all she needs. She’s bitter, frustrated, overwhelmed, and so over this whole night.

But that makes the performance all the more endearing. Whilst wrapped up in how she’s feeling, Isadora seems to forget that she’s performing in front of a judging panel and audience, and this is the best we’ve ever heard her sing. Her voice is powerful, and it fills the theater as everyone watches in silence.

As the song goes on, Isadora remembers flashes of the past year when she’s felt isolated: trying to rehearse with the performers for Les Mis but not fitting in, seeing Riley and Lucas dancing together and walking away, being in a room full of her siblings being loud and playing games where she’s sitting in silence with a blank look on her face.

Her voice gets louder and more powerful, and she finishes the song with tears of anger spilling from her eyes. She’s done hiding who she is, trying to mold herself to how people expect her to be. She’s not a techie, she’s not a performer – she’s Isadora freakin’ De La Cruz, and she’ll do whatever the hell she wants.

And right now she wants to get out of this theatre. She storms off stage, shoves the microphone to one of the stagehands, and heads out. Zay and Maya go to congratulate her on her performance, but she ignores them. She’s figuring out who she is in a world where she can’t depend on Lucas anymore, the one person she thought would always be there for her.

INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT

Despite everyone else’s busy Friday evening, Farkle is wasting away an anticlimactic evening at home. He’s in the living area helping Ezra with homework, but he’s hardly much help. His mind is elsewhere, zoning out of the conversation. He’s also fidgety, restless, and can’t much focus on anything at all.

Ezra complains about all of these facts, indignantly claiming that Farkle isn’t acting like himself. Jennifer calls him back to get ready for bed, freeing Farkle from any further accusations.

Ezekiel is reading a book on the far end of the couch, but he observed the exchange pointedly enough. He stretches his foot out and pokes at Farkle’s arm, getting his attention as he grimaces and swats his socked foot away from him. Ezekiel asks him if he’s okay, which he shrugs off, but he does utilize the opportunity to engage in conversation.

Farkle asks him to elaborate on what he meant about what he said at dinner the other night. About connections, and all that nonsense. Once he’s able to sort of figure out what exactly Farkle is requesting to hear, Ezekiel states that he doesn’t think any of it is all that deep but basically he simply meant that for things in life to hold meaning, you have to put time and effort into them. You need to be present for your claims of importance to hold any water.

Ezekiel goes on further, explaining that with his transition to college and everything, he had an epiphany of sorts about how positivity is so crucial. All of the negativity around them, the constant conflict and pushing people around is just white noise.

Ezekiel: That’s how dad rose up in his business, after all. He always operates as a friend, a partner, a supporter rather than a detractor. He’s an ally, and that’s an attractive trait. Makes him win in the end. That’s why he’s so good at what he does, at least from my perspective.

Farkle questions whether that principle just applies to the business world. Ezekiel shrugs, stating he’s fairly certain it applies to everything. Doesn’t matter who you are.

More than anything though, he just meant that it’s important to spend time with the people you care about while you have them so that they know how much you mean to them. Ever since he left for college he’s been thinking about that a lot – especially in regards to his family.

Farkle absorbs this, managing a smile when Ezekiel reaches forward to pat him on the back. He clearly has a lot to think about the later the night stretches on.

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - BALLROOM - NIGHT

Riley is gearing up for her performance, obviously nervous. She wrings her hands as she expresses her task to Lucas, who listens calmly as she rambles on about it. Once she takes a second to breathe, he has the opportunity to speak. Lucas doesn’t have much advice in the realm of performing, naturally, but he claims that she’ll be fine because she always is. He can’t think of a time when she wasn’t good.

Riley: Oh, yeah? Really? You literally told me I wasn’t that impressive during the first week of classes.

Lucas: No, I didn’t –

Riley: Are you kidding me? You said I was an “unassuming chorus member” –

Lucas: I meant that you were holding back. Which you were. That didn’t mean you weren’t good. You were always good.

That’s a lot of perspective altering to throw at her all at once when she’s already overwhelmed. Lucas shifts focus back to the task at hand, essentially giving her the same guidance that Shawn gave Angela – that she should just sing from the heart or whatever it is that they’re saying all the time. Riley absorbs this just as Eric comes to grab her, telling her that she has to get ready to take the stage.

INT. AUDITION HALL - DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

Zay is in full panic mode, totally freaking out about his performance. He’s forgetting steps, overthinking it just like Charlie warned him not to. He can’t believe he’s about to blow everything on the one chance he’s given to really show what he can do.

Suddenly, he’s struck with inspiration. He looks through his phone, scrolling and scrolling until he finds a new suitable avenue. He nods to himself, trusting himself to take a different approach.

Then he grabs his choreography sheet off the counter, giving it one last look before tearing it up.

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - BALLROOM - NIGHT

A rosy hue glows throughout the ballroom as Riley steps up to the stage, conferring quietly with the instrumentalists. It’s evident that she’s figured out her song, and when she steps up to the microphone and adjusts it as necessary she takes a moment to find her stage presence. She searches through the lights to find Eric in the crowd, standing with Jack and watching her proudly. Just a few paces to the right, she finds Lucas.

She’s got support. She’s not alone. Taking a deep breath, she nods to the violinist to kick off the performance.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “That Would Be Enough” as performed by Hamilton Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Riley Matthews

Starting with the open violin and the first “Look around, look around,” Riley skips the duet portion of the Eliza solo and jumps to the core of the song about a minute in. It’s an excellent choice, both for her vocal range as well as the crowd considering it’s hip musical theater.

Even more pointed is how well it applies to her emotions at the moment, which is exactly why she picked it. The first verse she sings for herself (“Look at where we are, look at where we started…”), marveling over how far she’s come in the past year and allowing herself the moment to soak it all up – the beautiful insanity of AAA, the rush of performing and being surrounded by artists who love it too, to be a thousand times stronger than she was before.

As she hits the next verse, however, her focus shifts. She finds Lucas in the crowd again, using him as her anchor as she ventures further into the performance. The lyrics ring particularly true here, too, as she sings directly to him (“I don’t pretend to know the challenges you’re facing / the worlds you keep erasing and creating in your mind…”).

Jack leans over to Eric, whispering that she’s absolutely stunning. Eric, a little choked up, wholeheartedly agrees.

Considering the captivated expression on his face, it’s safe to say that Lucas agrees. He can’t take his eyes off of her, and with how intently she’s staying grounded to him it could very well be a performance shared only between the two of them (“If I could grant you peace of mind, if you could let me inside your heart…”).

It’s a beautiful, delicate performance, and a perfect showing for AAA. The applause that she earns from the assembled appreciators of the arts is well, well earned.

INT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - NIGHT

Charlie is still present like the darling son he is, but he’s growing impatient. He’s tapping his feet, checking the clock on his phone incessantly.

He makes eye contact with Ambrose from across the room, waiting for some kind of signal that he’s free to go. His father seems to think on it for a long, torturous moment… then he smiles, nodding him along. Charlie exhales, returning the beam and inconspicuously sneaking his way out of the gathering.

EXT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - NIGHT

Charlie emerges into the brisk New York evening, only pausing for half a second before breaking into a sprint down the street.

INT. AUDITION HALL - THEATER - NIGHT

Zay emerges from the dressing room hall, sporting a different overall ensemble than he was before – much more of an eye-catcher with his Prince-esque floral suit jacket than the dance clothes he was wearing earlier. Maya and Isadora greet him and wish him luck, noting the change in his appearance. Maya questions how he’s feeling, and Isadora points out that he’s probably not going to be able to dance very well in that new attire.

Zay: You’re right. Because I’m not dancing.

Maya and Isadora both drop their jaws, wondering what the hell he’s doing. Maya tries to stop him and ask him exactly that, but Zay is already marching onto the stage.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Charlie is sprinting with everything he’s got, dashing through the nightlit avenues in his Sunday best. Running against the clock, just to get a few blocks away… closing the distance with every ticking second…

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - BALLROOM - NIGHT

Riley is fielding compliments and praise for her performance from gala guests, obviously unprepared for all the attention. Lucas meanders over to join her, somewhat saving her from further niceties with strangers. He shares a similar sentiment of congratulations, although his awe seems to run far deeper than that of the other patrons.

Lucas: You were – I don’t know what you were worried about.

Riley: Well, thank you. I think.

Lucas: Always good. I don’t know how you do it.

Riley: Hmm. I guess it’s just because I’m “too damn talented.”

It takes Lucas a second to get the reference, then he exhales a sheepish laugh. They hold each other’s gaze for a long moment until Lucas clears his throat, asking her if she wants to dance.

Riley: I’m sorry. Am I hearing that right? Lucas James Friar, willing to dance?

Lucas: Well, I figure if I’m playing the role tonight, I may as well play it right. [ a beat ] And I’ve had a pretty good teacher.

He holds out his arm, waiting for her to take it if she so chooses. She does, shyly, as Zay’s introduction to the judges pre-laps.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Ain’t No Way” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Zay Babineaux

As the opening swell of the soulful ballad floats in, Riley and Lucas make their way towards the center of the ballroom.

INT. AUDITION HALL - THEATER - NIGHT

Zay delivers a killer rendition, doing exactly what Charlie said he would – blow everyone out of the water with his raw talent. All year long he’s been forcing his dancing expertise, it was easy to forget how powerful a vocalist he is as well. There’s a reason he earned a ranking as one of the sophomore divas, and after this, no one is ever going to forget it again.

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - BALLROOM - NIGHT

The performance also underscores Riley and Lucas at the gala, venturing their dance. They start off in proper waltz posture, just like she taught him… but as the song progresses, they loosen up. Adjust their stance, close some of the distance, shift more into a slow dance.

At some point, Riley leans forward and rest her head against his shoulder as they sway together. Lucas honestly looks dumbstruck, as though he can’t believe this is actually happening. Any of it. He’d pinch himself, if he wasn’t so preoccupied by her or ever wanted to wake up from it.

EXT. AUDITION HALL - NIGHT

Charlie continues his sprint, darting up the steps two at a time and pushing through the doors.

INT. AUDITION HALL - THEATER - NIGHT

By the time Charlie makes it into the auditorium he’s out of breath, but he’s just in time to catch the latter half of Zay’s performance. He stumbles forward against the handicap rail in the back of the section and takes it all in – Zay’s inarguable stage presence, his outstanding vocals, the fact that he took his advice and is giving nothing but soul.

Charlie is totally entranced. He isn’t catching his breath any time soon.

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - BALLROOM - NIGHT

By the final act of the performance as Zay is heading into the final chorus, Riley shifts out of their posture and leans back a bit to look at Lucas. They lock eyes, searching one another’s expressions… and leaning into their first kiss.

It’s slow, uncertain, and over before either of them realize it. But it lingers, and their lips only break apart for a few moments before they initiate a second one. This one is a little bolder, a bit more certain, an active choice on both their ends rather than a tentative curiosity. Riley tightens her hold on his jacket to pull him closer, Lucas lifting a hand to cup her face.

INT. AUDITION HALL - THEATER - NIGHT

Zay finishes the number, totally bringing down the house. Charlie is starstruck. Maya and Isadora are in shock in the wings, able to see the writing on the wall. It’s more than clear who is going to the Kossal program that summer.

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - BALLROOM - NIGHT

Lucas and Riley pull back from one another, just enough to exchange hesitant eye contact. Then Riley breaks into a bashful giggle, easing the tension in an instant. She tilts her head against his, Lucas licking his lips and unable to hold back his smile.

EXT. AUDITION HALL - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Louvre” as performed by Lorde || Instrumental

Maya steps out into the night, inhaling the fresh air. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and taking a moment. She knows she’s not getting that summer program, not after Zay’s performance.

But she’s used to disappointment. It’s never stopped her before. Onto the next thing.

She exhales through her nose, opening her eyes. Then she descends down the steps, leaving the lost opportunity behind.

INT. AUDITION HALL - DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

Zay is gathering his things, still shaky on adrenaline from a stellar performance. He hesitates, finally getting to exhale. He almost can’t believe all the stress and strain is done.

Charlie manages to find his way to him, appearing in the doorway. Zay glances up and spots him in the mirror, eyebrows shooting up as he whips around in surprise. He literally can’t believe he showed up.

Zay: Charlie. You’re here.

[ Charlie smiles, nodding. He saunters further into the room, treading cautiously. Not because of Zay, but because he isn’t sure he trusts himself. ]

Charlie: After being so brutally honest, you thought I wouldn’t show up?

Zay: No. No, I just thought – you said you had –

Zay shrugs. He doesn’t really know what he thought, and he supposes it doesn’t really matter. It’s nice to see him there. Really nice.

Zay: I took your advice. So.

Charlie: Yeah, I noticed. And dare I say, I think it worked as intended.

Zay: You think so?

Charlie: Dude, you were amazing. There’s no way they’re not going to pick you.

Zay waves him off, not nearly so sure. Not wanting to jinx it. Charlie has made his way well across the room now, joining him by the counters and much closer. Dangerously close.

Charlie: I’m serious. You should’ve heard yourself. You were mindblowing.

Zay: Come on.

Charlie: I mean it. I mean, you always are. Stunning. Breathtaking.

Charlie can’t look away from him. He’s mesmerized, and still somehow damningly out of breath. He feels like he’s never going to be able to breathe again. Zay lifts his gaze to meet his, searching his expression. Not believing he could be reading the situation correctly.

Charlie shrugs wordlessly. Then he licks his lips, letting out a ragged exhale.

Charlie, breathlessly: Who needs oxygen?

Before Zay can question the statement, Charlie grabs the lapels of his suit jacket and pulls him into a kiss. It’s fumbling, a bit of a disaster to start, the two of them bracing against the counter and Zay reaching out to hold him mostly to keep him from falling over.

But they figure it out pretty quickly from there. Charlie hesitates for one last second, taking another glance at him before going in for another one. Eagerly. Decisively. Making his choice.

It doesn’t take long for Zay to get on the same page once the initial shock wears off. He kisses him back, tugging him closer and reaching up to start undoing his Sunday best tie.

The auditions may be wrapped, but it’s clear the two of them aren’t going anywhere for a while.

INT. JACK’S CAR - MOVING - NIGHT

Jack and Eric chatter in the front, lightly discussing the gala and the performances from the evening. Completely oblivious to how everything has changed.

Riley and Lucas are quiet. They’re seated in the back, not looking at each other. They can’t. It’s too much to ask of them with so much shifting between them, and with their faculty right there in front of them.

Riley glances away from fiddling with her purse to steal a look at him. He’s keeping his eyes trained out the window, absentmindedly chewing on his thumbnail. So, so far from the intimidating first impression he made at the beginning of the year. She shifts her gaze to his hand instead, resting on his leg and fingers tapping anxiously against his knee.

Gently, she reaches forward and touches the sleeve of his jacket. Lucas freezes, his fingers hovering over his leg. He tosses a glance in her direction out of the corner of his eye, uncertain what she’s going to do and wholly certain that he can’t brave looking her in the eyes.

Her fingers brush the back of his hand, before she lets her hand come to rest on top of his. Venturing that simple touch, rubbing her thumb against his knuckles. Lucas stares at their hands, still frozen. Still unable to look at her.

Then, he flips his hand over and links their fingers together. It’s that easy.

They don’t look at each other. They don’t give anything away. But light smiles bloom onto both of their faces as they direct their gazes out the car windows and towards the city lights.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Lucas enters the apartment as silently as possible, trying not to disturb whoever else might be around or asleep. Further inspection reveals a light on in the kitchen area, indicating that his efforts to go undetected might be futile. He frowns, stepping towards the room.

GRACE FRIAR is seated at the kitchen table, up late rifling through paperwork. When Lucas softly asks why she’s still up, she jumps slightly and lifts her head. It’s an immediate relief when she sees that it’s only him. She manages a smile, taking in his full attire.

Grace: You look nice. Where did you get that suit jacket?

Lucas: [ after a beat ] A friend.

Lucas avoids her gaze as she questions whether he had fun, busying himself by getting a glass of water. He pauses to actually consider the question, before confirming he did. He starts to make his retreat before he doubles back, posing a new discussion topic.

Lucas: Do you still have the application for McCullough? [ off Grace’s nod, and a beat of contemplation ] Forget about it. I’ll be fine at Triple A.

Grace, surprised: Are you sure?

There’s another beat of hesitation. Then, Lucas’s expression softens.

Lucas: Yeah. I am.

He bids his mother goodnight, disappearing from the kitchen doorway. Grace watches him go, a bit bemused. Sensing a major change of heart in her son, absolutely clueless as to where it came from. But it doesn’t seem like a bad thing. Not at all.

After a moment she smiles, returning to her work.

EXT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Maya is seated on the steps in front of her building, the street glimmering with the lights of the city and early morning dew. Farkle appears around the corner, marching towards her with his hands in his pockets. It’s not clear how far he’s walked alone in the middle of the night.

He’s frantic, full of nervous energy. She doesn’t bother to acknowledge him as he approaches. He stops in front of the steps, waiting for an invitation. When he doesn’t get one, he plops down next to her anyway. He bounces his legs restlessly, a sharp contrast to her plaintive calm.

They’re silent for a long moment. Maya clears her throat, ready to tell him off.

Maya: Are you lost, Farkle? It’s midnight and you live across town –

Farkle: I don’t want to be alone.

The statement takes Maya by surprise. She frowns, turning her gaze to him. He keeps staring straight ahead, rubbing his palms on his knees. Still fidgeting. His speech is scattered, panicked.

Farkle: I don’t know why I’m like this. Why I get this way. I tell myself it’s just the ambition, the drive pushing me towards my destiny, but I don’t know. I don’t think your destiny is supposed to feel this suffocating. Claustrophobic. [ a beat ] It’s like, if you’re going to do anything in this world you’ve got to be the best. And if you’re gonna do something as stupid as performance art, then you really have to be the best or else you’ve got nothing. And I didn’t want to be a nothing. I can’t be a nothing.

Maya listens intently, contemplative and somewhat stunned. Almost a year of friendship, or whatever the two of them are, and he’s never been this vulnerable.

Farkle: And if you’re going to be the best, that means fuck the rest. Right? If you’re at the top, then it means no one else can be. That’s what I always thought. That’s what made sense. But I’ve got this… it’s like I’ve got this whole other side to me that has a new motivation. And I don’t think I can survive with two. It’s like I’m splitting down the middle. But I know they’re both true. They’re both all-consuming. [ a beat ] I want to be the best. I want to get the auditions and the summer programs and get everything I deserve. I want it so badly, it’s blinding.

Maya waits, a bit more guarded. This much, she already knew.

Farkle: But I want to share it, too. I want to do it with people who are just as talented and star-bound as me. I want a team. I don’t want to be alone.

Farkle finally looks away from the street, forcing himself to meet her gaze. He hesitates, then speaks definitively. Like if he doesn’t say it, it’ll suffocate him.

Farkle: I want my friend.

Maya takes this all in, before softening a bit. After a moment she sighs, running a hand through her hair and trying to gauge the situation.

Maya: You really mean all that?

Farkle: Yes.

Maya: You done with all of the bullshit? All of the stupid –

Farkle, without hesitation: Yes. Yes.

It’s so difficult to figure out what’s real with him. Whether or not he’s telling the truth. But somehow, Maya wants it to be true.

Maya: You really mean just as talented?

Farkle: [ with an eager nod ] Maybe more.

The statement is sincere. And this, it seems, is the ticket to earning back her approval. She gives him a hesitant smile, nodding as well and letting her gaze drift back to the street. They continue to sit in the cool May twilight, the winds of change kicking up a breeze around them.

This friendship may just stay afloat yet…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

The last couple days of sophomore year seem to promise an unusually little amount of chaos compared to the usual tenor of AAA. Farkle is at his locker on his phone, and we can see that he has messaged the AAAC multiple times over the weekend requesting that his submission be deleted and forgotten about.

The page hasn’t responded, so it seems like a moot point. For what it’s worth, the AAAC seems to have finally given up.

Farkle accepts this, closing his locker. Glancing down the hallway, wondering what an entirely new year is going to bring.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

On the bulletin board outside the black box, Zay has been announced as the summer program recipient. The assembled classmates congratulate him, including a genuinely complimentary Maya and a very enthusiastic Riley. Charlie gives him a pat on the back, and they exchange a soft look – suddenly a lot more meaningful between them than before.

During this celebration, however, they all get notifications on their phones from Instagram.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Farkle gets it as well, still in a different part of the school. It informs him that AAA Confessions posted a new video, followed by one more message specifically meant for him.

“Too late. Self-destruct sequence initiated. Happy summer, Farkle Minkus.”

Consumed with dread, Farkle stops frozen in the hall and opens his phone. As he jumps to the app, his hands are shaking so badly he nearly drops the device. When he goes to check the page, all of the color drains from his face.

It’s worse than he expected. Not only is the content of his video posted, it’s him saying it. AAAC simply posted the video in its entirety, only having adding a caption explaining that the post is their swan song confession – and they’ve exposed everyone who ever posted on the account.

As Farkle’s voice on video begins to rattle throughout the school halls, he takes off at a mad dash down the hallway –

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The World Was Wide Enough” as performed by Hamilton Original Broadway Cast || Instrumental (up to 4:00) - Performed by Farkle Minkus (4:00 onward)

INT. AAA - HALLWAYS - DAY

It’s chaos as everyone tunes into the video and sees the AAAC’s final post. Their final message is true to their word – scrolling down on the page, they’ve added a “signature” to every single original caption revealing who submitted it in the first place. All that power of anonymity, gone in an instant.

Friends are confronting friends about items posted. People are tuning in to Farkle’s video, in total awe and horror of the mere existence of it. Each piece of it is repeated in snippets as it passes through the halls, accenting the instrumentation of “The World Was Wide Enough.”

As Zay reads the caption on the post, he turns to look for Charlie. But Charlie is gone, having disappeared the moment it became clear exactly what was going on.

Charlie himself is hiding in a nook of a hallway closer to the atrium, looking like he’s going to be sick. As he frantically scrolls through the page, we discover what it is that has him so flustered – all of the posts about him and Riley were submitted by him. All that effort put into using it to keep suspicion off of him, and now he suddenly looks more curious than ever.

Panicked, Charlie jogs towards the front entrance and pushes through the doors. Taking off at a run without looking back.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The techies are huddled in their usual back section sans Isadora and Lucas, watching Farkle’s video with a distinct mix of horror and fascination. JADE BEAMON is hiding behind her hands, she can’t bear to watch it for too long. DAVE WILLIAMS can’t look away, jaw hanging open.

Lucas enters from the audience doors, noticing the tension in the congregation and asking them what’s going on. DYLAN ORLANDO and ASHER GARCIA immediately attempt to stifle the sound and hide the phone, assuring him that it’s nothing. But naturally, this adamant denial doesn’t sell convincingly on either of them.

He can tell something is seriously up. He repeats the question, approaching the group and coming to stand in front of them again. Dave tries to claim ignorance as well but Lucas is faster than them, reaching over and snatching Dylan’s phone from his hands before he can protest.

Lucas tunes into the video just as Farkle is wrapping up his section on him, transitioning to Isadora. Asher tries to tell him he’s stupid and he should forget about it, but Lucas isn’t listening to him anymore.

Farkle: … I mean, why else would she put in the effort to befriend jackass Lucas James Friar, other than by special request from her favorite counselor uncle in an attempt to make sure he doesn’t make a hit list or some shit considering he’s so openly pathetic. Riley Matthews doesn’t need sympathy, but she’s sure good at giving it…

Asher and Dylan are watching him like a hawk, not sure what to say. All of them are watching him with evident worry, and that just makes everything worse.

Farkle: … I guess it makes sense that she deserves one shot to prove she actually can live up to the family business without having to do any work for it. Sucks that it’s so late notice her best friend won’t even be there, as he’ll be too busy on his pity date with Riley. How tragic.

Stone-faced, Lucas drops the phone to the ground and marches from the auditorium. Dylan calls after him as Asher scrambles to pick up the phone off the ground. Dave starts to go after him in concern but Jade pulls him back.

INT. AAA - HALLWAYS - DAY

Farkle continues his desperate sprint through the halls, frantically trying to get to the black box to do damage control before everything unravels. He arrives and barrels through the doorway just as the gun shot in the instrumental goes off, kicking off the empty, tense backing of Hamilton’s free verse.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

The moment Farkle appears in the doorway, a dozen heads snap to look at him at once. Most of the sophomore class is assembled, nearly all of the performers except Charlie and including Isadora. They’re all staring at him, a myriad of unpleasant emotions on their faces.

Considering the fact that all of them are also on blast because of what the page did to the captions, Farkle is truly stepping into the full brunt of everyone’s betrayal and anger.

Maya breaks first, questioning how the hell he could do something like this. He really did blow up everything – including reveal her scholarship status to the whole school. Her eyes are glossy as she scrutinizes him, but the rage is enough of a deterrent to hold back any tears.

Farkle isn’t so lucky. He’s already choking up as he tries to defend himself, stammering through his words. He tries to point out that it wasn’t him who posted it, and he frantically tries to explain that he basically begged to have it deleted. He never wanted it to be shared. He didn’t mean it.

Maya: But you sent it. You said it!

The vitriol escalates pretty quickly from there, Zay pointing out how pathetic the whole thing is. Riley questions why he would put other people’s interpersonal relationships on blast, to which Isadora follows up that it’s obviously because he can’t imagine what having actual friendships must be like. Guess if he can’t have them, then no one can.

Farkle takes hit after hit, being the straw man in a scenario that has no good ending. But the whole thing gets far worse when Lucas storms into the room, asking if it’s true.

It’s like all of the air gets sucked out of the room. The performers turn to Lucas warily, wondering the hell he’s going to do. He repeats the question, voice quiet and sharp – which is honestly scarier than if he were shouting. Farkle swallows, certain he’s not going to live to see tomorrow.

But Lucas doesn’t focus on him. He zeroes in on Riley instead, locking eyes with her and looking at her for a long moment before asking about what he actually cares about. When he speaks, it’s barely above a murmur.

Lucas, mockingly: … pity date?

Riley: [ stunned ] No. No, Lucas, I didn’t – I never –

But it’s too late. It’s like Wyatt said – words are toothpaste, and they’re not going back in the tube. The sentiments have left their mark, for everyone involved.

Lucas huffs out a laugh, but it’s not a humorous one. Then he launches into a tirade about how he should’ve known better, they should’ve seen this coming. That, of course, the performers would default to this kind of petty and sadistic behavior, because that’s all they ever do. It’s been that way forever, and nothing is going to change it clearly. It’s a pretty staggering deconstruction, and he bookends it by stating he hopes they’re all really pleased with themselves. Really damn pleased.

Lucas focuses back on Farkle, voice dropping back down to a wavering murmur.

Lucas: [ letting out a scoff of a laugh ] … fuck you.

[ Farkle can’t look at him. He keeps his gaze trained on the wall, a couple of tears slipping down his cheeks. Lucas shakes his head, backing up. ]

Lucas: Fuck… [ raising his voice ] FUCK all of you!

Lucas storms out, pushing WYATT LIVINGSTON out of his way as he shoves past him to escape. Isadora shoots a murderous glare at all of them before chasing after him. CLARISSA CRUZ hides her head behind HALEY FISHER’S back, both of them crying. A tear escapes Riley, but she’s so shell-shocked she doesn’t even think to wipe it away.

The sophomore class starts to file out, trying to escape the unbearable tension they all had a hand in creating. They file out one by one in varying states of shock until it’s down to Farkle and Zay, the latter stopping in front of him as he makes his way out.

Zay: Was it worth it? Is it finally enough?

He scoffs, shaking his head in disgust as he leaves Farkle alone. Farkle stands there in the center of the classroom alone, completely frozen.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Isadora catches up to Lucas in the technician’s booth, intending to confront him about the commentaries leveled against him – particularly that he totally just blew her off to go on some date with Riley without bothering to clue her in. Because that’s not so hot either, and she was counting on him to be there. She needed him to be there, and he wasn’t. She expresses how idiotic she felt and demands to know what the hell he was thinking.

Lucas claims he doesn’t want to talk about it right now, obviously on the verge of a major emotional hurricane. Anyone else would be cautious to be near him with such a chaotic potential in the air – and understandably so – but Isadora knows him better than that. She’s not scared of him, and at the moment she’s pissed. So she won’t let it drop, pushing and pushing until he finally cracks.

He yells at her, begging her to shut up. He can’t deal with it right now, so would she just let it drop? She winces, shocked enough by the outburst to stop the badgering. Lucas blinks at her, turning away and collapsing back against the electrical cabinet. He slides down to the floor, all of the anger gone in an instant and just left with… everything else.

He covers his face with his hands, letting out a shaky “fuck” and pulling up his knees in front of him. Isadora hesitates by the lighting board, realizing now isn’t the time for the confrontation. They’ll have that conversation later, she knows that they will. For now, she thinks he needs her to be present in a different way – even if he wasn’t there for her the way she expected he’d be.

Tentatively, she approaches him and sits down against the cabinet next to him. She cautiously puts an arm around his shoulders to comfort him – a big move, coming from Isadora – and that moment of vulnerability is what shatters the flood gates.

Lucas leans into her embrace, breaking down in tears as the sting of everything falling apart finally starts to sink in. When he said that when he cared about something, we would know… well. That’s more evident than ever before.

Isadora holds him and allows him to melt down, lightly propping her chin on his head. Her expression is grim, holding it together so that at least one of them remains stalwart.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Farkle takes over the vocalization of “The World Was Wide Enough,” tuning in on “Now I’m the villain in your history…” He’s walking along the edge of the stage on his own, balance precarious. Like he could fall at any second, but at that point he doesn’t care anymore.

His eyes are glossy but the tears are done. He’s blank-faced, trying to comprehend the fact that his world just turned upside down, and the truth of it is? It was all his fault.

I was too young and blind to see, I should’ve known. I should’ve known the world was wide enough for all of them and me.

Close on Farkle’s teary eyes, before a slow fade to black. Then, the sounds of a bustling airport float in as we transition to a new location…

INT. AIRPORT - DAY

Close on a smartphone, open to the AAAC but from the moderator side rather than follower as we’re accustomed to seeing it. A thumb navigates to settings, going to the delete button. When Instagram prompts if the user is sure about deleting the account, they hesitate.

Easing out, it is finally revealed who the true operator of the AAAC was – Chai Fresco. In spite of her successfully evading getting caught, she doesn’t look thrilled with all of the chaos that unfolded in its wake.

As her boarding section is called for her flight to Europe, she acts quickly and confirms the delete. Poof! It’s as if the page was never there… even if all the damage it caused still remains.

Chai grabs her things, heading towards the flight that will take her away from all of the aftermath. Not looking back.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Empty hallways. Quiet building. Summer has begun, and the impending confrontations are put on hold for a few weeks. The hallways feel eerie, not populated with students and dancing and music as they should be…

Eric: What the hell happens next?

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Eric is seated behind his desk, Jack in the usual student occupied chair across from him. They’re both stunned speechless, still attempting to wrap their minds around what the hell unfolded in the last three days of classes. Eric confirms that the confessions page has been terminated for good, so at least there’s that.

Jack: Mister Livingston was right.

Eric frowns, prompting Jack to continue. It’s clear that this has taken a toll on Jack. He doesn’t look all that well, and his voice is ragged as he tries to compose his thoughts. He laments that Wyatt was correct about him – he is incompetent, and he couldn’t stop this from imploding in on itself. More than that, he’s the failure. He failed their students, from beginning to end.

Eric tries to refute this notion, but Jack isn’t willing to hear it. And in some ways, they did fail, there’s no sugarcoating that. They tried to protect their students, and it didn’t work. Everyone got hurt, somehow.

Most pointedly, Jack continues, Wyatt was right when he said there is a serious culture problem at AAA. Too much competition, too cutthroat. They have to change it, and it’s going to take both of them working together to fix it from the ground up.

Jack looks to Eric, a far cry from the resolute and polished principal we met at the beginning of the season. He lets out an exhale, locking eyes with his most stubborn yet most impassioned faculty member.

Jack: Will you help me?

Eric holds his gaze, obviously contemplating. Then he holds out his hand, waiting for Jack to shake on it. If they’re going to rebuild, then it’s going to take both of them indeed.

Jack hesitates, then links his hand with his.

END OF SEASON.

#S1 #112 #episodes

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artificialqueens · 6 years

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A Long December (Shalaska) - jazz

Summary: A story about how Sharon and Alaska (probably) met, inspired by this old quote from Alaska:

“We met almost four years ago. We were both drag queens and knew each other from Myspace. We’d comment on each other’s pictures and check each other out that way, but it wasn’t until I came back [to Pittsburgh] from L.A. to visit for Christmas that I met him out of drag. I was just like, “This person is so fun and so funny… and he has a really nice ass.” That was it. So I went back to L.A. to close up all my affairs and I moved into his house in Pittsburgh and never left.”

A/N: So, this is pretty canon. Getting back to my roots with 4.k words of some non-AU Shalaska! Many thanks to Rosie for reassuring me that I did their meeting story justice <3

The thing Alaska loved most about the holidays was the Christmas lights.

He loved the sheer abundance of them: loved them when they sparkled, loved how they illuminated his neighbors’ front yards, loved even the ones that were so hideously ugly they hurt his eyeballs.

It reminded him of home, of dragging the worn cardboard box up from the basement as a child and attempting for hours to untangle the mess of rainbow string lights that’d been collecting dust for nearly a year. He’d cry when one of the little bulbs went out, as if there weren’t hundreds of other twinkling bulbs to make up for it.

He used to drive around aimlessly for hours just to look at them, not that there was much else to do in northwestern Pennsylvania.

Los Angeles winters – less glittery, distinctly lonelier, and a hell of a lot more chintzy – just didn’t have the same appeal. So, with Christmas quickly approaching, Alaska packed his bags and hopped on a connecting flight back home to Erie, away from the blown auditions and the callbacks that never came, the late rent checks and the overpriced headshots that he couldn’t reallyafford.

But Alaska wasn’t about to worry about any of that tonight. Tonight, he’d made the short two-hour drive from Erie to Pittsburgh. He had some old friends that lived in the city, and they’d gotten him an invite to a house party that a certain someone was rumored to attend.

Alaska smiled in spite of himself. Sharon Needles.

He kept a mental catalogue of all the things he knew about Sharon so far.

He did drag, first of all, something that he and Sharon had bonded over almost instantly. Sharon’s drag was edgy and hideous and horrifying and beautiful, and Alaska was in awe of it. He thought that Sharon might be the smartest person he knew, probably.

He was from middle-of-nowhere, meth-addled Iowa. Alaska had never been to the Midwest, but he’d heard that there was a lot of corn there. Alaska shook his head. Yeah, no, don’t talk about corn tonight, he chided himself.

Besides, Sharon was a total Pittsburgher now, adopting the city’s strange dialect and practically bleeding its colors, black and gold. It suited him well, Alaska thought.

He knew that Sharon had blue eyes – sky blue, he could make out from his profile photos and their select Skype conversations – and a tattoo of Tammy Faye Baker on his upper arm, and that he was perfect, potentially.

Alaska knew better than to get his hopes up, though. Sharon might not even be interested. They’d been exchanging messages online for a few weeks now, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Alaska cringed at the possibility.

It meant something on his end, at least.

Alaska trudged on down the sidewalk, a thin layer of packed snow crunching satisfyingly underneath his feet. He was getting ahead of himself. First, he’d have to show up to the party – a half hour late, obviously, so he didn’t seem over-eager. He’d have a drink – or two or three – to calm his nerves a bit.

Then, he’d ask around for Sharon, all buzzed and aloof, and they’d embrace, and it’d be magical. Or something like that.

He clutched onto the brown-paper-bagged bottle of whiskey he’d decided to buy last-minute. Bringing a gift felt like the polite thing to do, but now he just felt clumsy and awkward as he approached the small house, alcohol in one hand and a dumb Santa hat in the other.

Alaska wiped his boots on the doormat, mentally preparing himself for the night ahead, before letting himself in.

The place smelled strongly of burnt sugar cookies and hard liquor, and he didn’t recognize many faces. Someone was singing along to a Mariah Carey cover in the other room, and Alaska found himself wishing he were already a little tipsy.

He made his way through the throngs of guests, all clad in varying shades of red and green, and tossed his winter jacket onto a nearby armchair. His heart sank at the possibility that maybe Sharon had decided to skip the party altogether.

Alaska was about to question why Sharon’s attendance even mattered to him at all when he spotted him from across the room, in an oversized Christmas sweater that had definitely seen better days, cigarette burns garnishing the sleeves he’d cuffed twice around his wrists.

Suddenly, Alaska couldn’t have cared less about his surroundings.

His chest expanded as Sharon’s eyes locked with his own, an expression of pleasant surprise washing over his features, before striding over to Alaska purposefully. Alaska watched him approach in slow motion, his vision tunneling in to focus only on Sharon.

“For me? You shouldn’t have, Alaska.” Sharon smiled, his dimple on full display, as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey from Alaska’s hand and took an emphatic swig.

Alaska’s jaw dropped, his breath catching at the way Sharon said his name, how it rolled off his tongue with ease. “I, uh… you’re welcome, I guess?”

It was hardly the reception Alaska had envisioned for their first meeting. He racked his brain for a proper conversation-starter, something that said, I can be super fun and flirty, but also interesting and smart, and I think you’re really great, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he found himself staring at Sharon’s ass, forgetting why he’d cared so much about talking in the first place.

Sharon turned on his heel to walk away then, a signal that, to Alaska, meant their interaction was over. He frowned, until Sharon looked back and extended his free hand.

“You coming, or not?” he asked, lips pursed. “Let’s get you a beverage.”

Alaska placed his hand in Sharon’s without thinking, felt his universe crumbling and rebuilding itself in that instant.

He let Sharon lead him into the kitchen, too-small and dark, bumping his hip awkwardly against the counter in the process. His fingers were tingling and Sharon’s hand was cool against his own and he hoped Sharon wouldn’t let go any time soon.

“Oh, by the way,” Sharon said flatly, “don’t drink the eggnog.” He made a face over his shoulder.

“Noted,” Alaska laughed.

Sharon disappeared into the refrigerator for a moment, allowing Alaska just enough time to try to compose himself, unsuccessfully. If Sharon backed up a few inches, he’d be pressed right against him, and Alaska felt dizzy at the thought. He hopped up to sit on the counter behind him for something to do, shimmying backwards so that his legs didn’t touch the ground.

“Here.” Sharon turned and handed Alaska a plastic cup half-full of red liquid, eyes wandering over Alaska as he inspected the concoction. “I’m not gonna poison you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“How romantic,” Alaska deadpanned, the corners of his mouth curling upwards.

“I can be.”

Sharon lowered his voice, taking a step closer toward Alaska and parking himself in between his legs. His tone was playful, but Alaska couldn’t be sure – not when he could practically feel Sharon’s body heat radiating off of him in waves, sending the butterflies in his stomach into a frenzy. Alaska brought the cup to his lips in an effort to distract himself.

“So you’re liking Pittsburgh?” Alaska asked abruptly, hating how his first instinct was to make small talk, and how Sharon’s eyes glinted at it, like he thrived on Alaska’s jitters and nervous energy.

“America’s filthiest-kept secret,” Sharon said with a flourish of his hand. “You’re out in L.A., yeah?”

“Yeah, but…” Alaska trailed off. “I dunno, it’s not really working out for me there.”

He was conscious of Sharon’s middle finger tracing the rim of his cup that he held in his lap, his eyes flicking up to meet Alaska’s when he noticed him watching.

“Noted,” Sharon repeated, smiling slightly.

“What?” Alaska drawled, blushing. “What’s that face for?”

“You’re cuter in person, is all.”

Alaska grinned into his drink.

Guests filtered in and out of the kitchen as they chatted, and Alaska hardly noticed any of them, too caught up in how easy it was to talk to Sharon. He told Alaska that he’d been following his drag career out in California for a while now, that Alaska’s style of drag impressed him and reminded him a bit of his own, and when it got too crowded for their liking, Sharon pulled Alaska outside onto the patio that connected to the kitchen.

Sharon lowered himself onto a bench and grabbed a cigarette from his pocket, let it hang from his lips as he brought a lighter to the butt end. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked.

“Oh, no – not at all,” Alaska sputtered.

“Some people don’t like the smell of it,” Sharon said, taking a long, contemplative drag. “But not me.”

Alaska stared at him, watched the smoke leave his lips and dance above his head, forming a carbon monoxide halo around his mop of bleached blonde hair, sticking up in every which direction. His nose was pink from the cold and Alaska wanted to kiss it, just once.

“Addiction’s a funny thing, y’know,” Sharon mused.

Alaska nodded solemnly. He had a feeling he’d agree to just about anything that came out of Sharon’s mouth, if he were being honest.

“What’re you addicted to, Alaska?”

The question hung in the air, cool and heavy.

You, his heart was screaming, threatening to burst right out of his chest. I’m addicted to you.

Alaska gulped down the rest of his drink to avoid Sharon’s intense gaze, felt the liquid travel through his body and warm his limbs almost instantly.

“Should we head back in soon, see what everyone else is up to?” Alaska tried. “It’s getting kinda cold out here.”

“Sit with me, then.” Sharon patted the cushioned spot next to him on the bench, and Alaska’s pulse quickened. He didn’t know how much longer he could handle being that close to Sharon without doing something dumb and impulsive, breathing in his smell and scanning his face and hearing his voice – not behind a computer screen, but right here, close enough to touch.

And Alaska wanted to touch him, badly.Sharon was so real that it hurt, and Alaska’s bones ached from it.

He thought that, maybe, Sharon was the realest thing he’d ever known in his life. When Sharon looked at him, it was inquisitive and sharp, and Alaska felt fully seen, like Sharon had him all figured out without saying a word. Alaska didn’t know what to do with that, wasn’t used to feeling so exposed.

He gravitated toward Sharon, settling into the space under the arm that he’d draped casually over the top of the bench. They sat there like that, in comfortable silence, for what felt like minutes.

“I like you, Alaska,” Sharon said, matter-of-fact, snubbing his cigarette out on an ashtray. “A lot, actually.”

His boldness caught Alaska off guard, and he half-considered that maybe the nicotine, or the alcohol, or some combination of the two, had damaged Sharon’s better judgment.

“You’re special, I think,” he continued.

“I think you’ve got the wrong person,” Alaska drawled. He hiccupped, likely from chugging the remains of his drink too quickly, and giggled nervously at the possibility that Sharon really meant it.

—–

Over the course of the night, Alaska learned that Sharon was nothing like he’d expected – but somehow, even better than he’d hoped.

He was fun, and he was hilarious, and, when Alaska caught himself staring at him for far too long as Sharon danced to a pop remix of “Last Christmas” on top of an old couch, mouthing all the words at Alaska like he was singing it just for him, Alaska knew he needed a moment to collect his racing thoughts.

He shot Sharon an apologetic smile as he ducked away and disappeared into the sea of partygoers, darting toward the staircase in hopes that it might be a little quieter upstairs, that he could freshen up and maybe get it together.

He wandered into the room at the end of the carpeted hallway, expecting a bathroom but instead finding a spare bedroom. He sighed, dragging his hands over his face. Alaska was in too deep, he could feel it, didn’t know whether he wanted to be sick or if he wanted to run straight into Sharon’s arms.

It’s just a crush, Alaska told himself, unconvincingly. He pictured the way Sharon’s lips had closed around his bottle of whiskey, how delicate his hands had looked as he balanced a cigarette between his fingers, and wondered how those same lips and hands might feel running over his own body tonight, and tomorrow, and maybe the next day after that.

“What, I didn’t scare you away down there, did I?” Sharon asked.

Alaska jumped, spinning around at hearing Sharon’s voice from behind him. He looked almost sheepish, arms hanging at his sides, and Alaska could see his veins from where he’d pushed up his sleeves.

“Oh, no, this is just… a lot,” Alaska tried, licking his lips absentmindedly. “It’s a lot.”

Somehow, Sharon seemed to understand. He closed the door, traveled the rest of the distance between them and took Alaska’s hands in his own. “Look at me,” he said.

Alaska hesitantly locked eyes with him, fully aware of how close they were standing now, how alone they were, and his heartbeat thudded in his ears.

Sharon reached up and tucked a finger underneath Alaska’s chin, made sure he couldn’t look away. “You feel this, too, right?” Sharon asked, quietly.

Alaska wasn’t breathing. He thought he gave a small nod, but his knees were shaking and he knew that if he leaned in, right now, he’d be done.

Luckily for him, Sharon was the first to fall.

He shoved Alaska against the dresser, hands cradling his face as he kissed him, hard and impatient. Alaska was putty underneath Sharon’s grip, and it took a moment for his brain to catch up with his body.

Sharon was kissing him.

Sharon was kissing him firmly like he’d been starving, and Alaska was his remedy – and maybe he was, as Alaska instinctively wrapped his own hands around Sharon’s thin wrists, willed with his tongue for Sharon to understand that he felt it, too.

It wasn’t long before kissing wasn’t enough. Sharon had a thigh rutted between Alaska’s bowed legs and he pressed down on it greedily. Alaska moved his fingers to coil in Sharon’s blonde hair, and when he tugged gently, he felt Sharon audibly whimper into his mouth, the sound shooting straight to his abdomen.

Alaska had been with plenty of guys before, but not like this – Sharon was clinging to him like he was afraid Alaska might slip through his fingers otherwise.

“Sharon, I…” Alaska began, and then trailed off, lips ghosting over Sharon’s cheek, his nose. He realized all at once that he didn’t have the words to articulate what exactly was taking place, just that it felt distinctly important.

“Yeah,” Sharon breathed, in between kisses. “Me too.”

Alaska sunk to his knees at that, shoving Sharon’s jeans down to his ankles as he went. Sharon’s pupils were blown out black as he watched Alaska, who was palming Sharon’s already-hard cock over the fabric of his underwear. Alaska didn’t think about what he was doing, not really – didn’t dwell on the fact that he wanted to please Sharon more than he’d wanted to please anybody, or that he’d been semi-hard, seeing stars as soon as Sharon’s lips touched his.

He just hollowed his cheeks, tried to take as much of Sharon as he possibly could into his mouth.

Sharon clutched onto the edge of the dresser for support, lips parted. Alaska developed a steady rhythm, used one hand to move in tandem with his tongue as he bobbed his head to suck at Sharon’s hardness.

When Alaska moaned, so did Sharon.

Alaska flattened his tongue against the underside of Sharon’s length, hummed around him. Sharon began to rock his hips forward, hitting the back of Alaska’s throat with each thrust, before abruptly pulling out.

He tugged Alaska back to his feet, smattering kisses along the curve of his neck. “Wanna make this last,” Sharon explained hoarsely.

Alaska could tell that Sharon was leaving marks, and was glad for it: he wanted to wake up tomorrow and remember where Sharon had been, see and feel where he’d paid special attention.

And then Sharon was spinning him around and maneuvering him towards the bed, yanking Alaska’s shirt up and over his head impatiently as Alaska kicked off his own pants, a clumsy dance of flying fabric and tangled limbs. Alaska’s hands flew to Sharon’s bare shoulder blades, his chest, warm and soft underneath his fingertips.

It felt surreal, that they were doing this – and yet, it didn’t surprise Alaska in the slightest. He felt surprisingly comfortable, safe, even as Sharon pushed him backward onto the bed, pinning him underneath his body.

Sharon hovered over Alaska for a few moments, scanning him with those eyes again, before Alaska pulled him down by the back of the neck, cocks rutting together as Alaska’s tongue traced the shell of Sharon’s ear.

“Please,” Alaska begged, breathless. “Sharon, fuck – I need you. I really, really need you.”

Sharon closed his eyes and let out a huge breath, like the sound of Alaska’s voice, whiny and broken, did things to him. Alaska looked up at him, his hair falling into his face, tried to scoot his hips closer towards Sharon’s lap.

Sharon didn’t need much more encouragement than that.

He flipped Alaska onto his stomach, and Alaska wiggled his ass out for Sharon, who soothed his hands over the smooth skin. He felt delirious, how badly he wanted Sharon to fill him up, make him muffle his screams into the pillow.

And he knew that Sharon would be good to him – he could tell from the way Sharon made sure to kiss every notch on his spine, open-mouthed and careful. Alaska frantically reached over to the bedside table, ransacking two separate drawers before finding a small bottle of lube and a box of condoms, and he said a silent prayer.

Sharon’s hands were trembling as he slicked up his fingers, uttering a hoarse, “You sure, Lasky?”

Alaska had never been more sure of anything, nodding feverishly at the headboard, trying to remember how to breathe.

He didn’t know what any of this might mean moving forward for him and Sharon – if there even was such a thing as a “him and Sharon” – but he refused to worry about that now, not when Sharon eased one finger into him and then two, reducing Alaska to a moaning mess as he arched his back at the contact.

Sharon bowed his head and pressed his lips to Alaska’s shoulder blade, and when he finally entered him, it was with a slow roll of his hips, breath still dancing on Alaska’s back.

Alaska’s jaw went slack, his mouth falling open in a silent scream.

Then Sharon began to move: small and shallow thrusts at first, clearly restraining himself. “Oh, shit, Lasky, you feel so… so good.”

“Sharon, I need… move, Shar, please…”

“W-wait, hold on,” Sharon said, pulling out of Alaska decidedly. Alaska whined at the loss, until Sharon turned him over, scanned his face. “I wanna see you.”

Sharon appraised Alaska’s features: his cheeks, flushed pink, and his kiss-swollen lips, which Sharon leaned down to kiss again, quick and sloppy. Alaska drew his knees up, reaching down to guide Sharon back inside him.

Alaska watched as Sharon’s forehead crinkled, lips parted to let out a breathy exhale. Alaska couldn’t keep from staring, from committing his facial expression to memory – until Sharon shifted his hips the tiniest bit, reminding Alaska of his own throbbing cock, the desire welling up in the pit of his stomach.

He tilted his head back and moaned, exposing his throat for Sharon to nip at as he slammed into him, skin slapping against skin.

Alaska fell apart beneath him, grabbing Sharon’s ass to urge him on, lifting his legs so Sharon could go deeper, harder – a frenzy of clawing hands and salty kisses, more lips brushing against lips than anything else. When Sharon reached for Alaska’s neglected cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts, Alaska spilled into his hand, sobbing Sharon’s name almost incoherently, over and over again, the only word that mattered.

Sharon followed suit, shuddering into Alaska before letting his head drop to Alaska’s collarbone.

“God,” was all he murmured, and it was as good as I love you.

“I know,” Alaska breathed.

Alaska slid out of bed on shaky legs after Sharon cleaned them both up, bent down to grab the first article of clothing he could find on the floor – Sharon’s Christmas sweater. He tugged it over his head, smiling at the feeling of Sharon’s eyes glued to him, his body.

“You’re so pretty, baby.”

Alaska giggled, crawling back into bed with Sharon eagerly, nuzzling against him like they’d done this countless times before. In some ways, it felt like they had.

“Tell me how much you like me again,” Alaska purred.

“More than I know what to do with,” Sharon replied, and the honesty in his voice was jarring. “Probably too much.”

Alaska stared at the adjacent wall in silence, considering the full weight of Sharon’s words, realizing all at once that he felt the same way – and remembering suddenly that they lived on opposite sides of the country. It hit him like a punch in the gut.

“I don’t think I can do long-distance right now,” Alaska choked out. “I just can’t.”

Sharon rolled onto his side to face Alaska, propping his head up with his hand. “I wasn’t expecting you to, Lasky,” he said, his voice quiet.

Alaska squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel himself ruining the moment, and wished he could’ve just left good enough alone. Sharon probably thought that he was clingy beyond belief, and embarrassment burned hot in his cheeks.

“So what now, then?” Alaska asked, bracing himself for what was sure to be a letdown.

There was a pregnant pause before Sharon replied.

“So, move in with me.”

“What?” Alaska stammered, rolling over hurriedly and getting tangled in the sheets. He searched Sharon’s face, looked for any sign that he might be kidding, but instead only found a set of blue eyes, locked with his own.

“It could be like this, all the time,” Sharon said softly.

“You… you hardly know me.”

“I know enough.”

Alaska swallowed the lump in his throat, fought the urge to smatter kisses all over Sharon’s dumb face, which was sporting a small, hopeful smile now.

Alaska wanted it – he wanted all of it. He wanted to share a closet and take up too much space in the bathroom, wanted to wake up on Christmas morning next to Sharon and watch Bette Davis documentaries in bed. He wanted to feel Sharon pressed against him when he fell asleep at night, wouldn’t even care if Sharon ran hot or snored lightly into his neck. He’d let Sharon show him around town, too; they’d go out and make fools of themselves on stage and Sharon would take Alaska home at the end of their gigs, fuck him hard into the mattress and kiss him on the lips afterward.

Alaska knew he’d say yes before the words were even out of his mouth. This was right. This felt right.

He threw his body on top of Sharon’s, bare legs straddling his torso, and repeated yes against his lips until he was forced to come up for air, Sharon’s eyes twinkling like the Christmas lights lining the snow-covered street outside.

#shalaska #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #smut #non-au #christmas #tw mention of addictions #jazz #rpdr fanfiction #canon compliant

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