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#once the semester ends i can finally focus on getting my diagnosis

kaelvas · 1 year

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I spent a long time hating myself and not thinking I could contribute anything positively lasting to the world. I flunked out of my English program at BYU due to severe depression and undiagnosed neurodivergence.

I had thousands in debt, was making just above minimum wage, and was eating once a day. I was unknowingly in a cult which constantly berated me to aim higher and do better, but not in a healthy or sustainable way.

I almost stopped. Death seemed like the best course more than a few times. For me, trying to help people kept me going. Financially, emotionally, I offered what I could and tried to pin down what I wanted from life and if I even deserved it.

I found a therapist who actually seemed to care and started really working through my shit. One of my biggest barriers was generalizing my shittiest experiences to my core personhood. "Because of x, I am a monster" or "I can never be whole because of y."

He taught me to separate all of that out and to realize I wasn't my worse days. Which wasn't enough, but it was a good start. I graduated my undergrad program during our work together and started working with suicidal veterans.

I later went back for my masters and met my wife before I started my first semester. Here. On Tumblr. I lost my job and internship because I couldn't keep up (depression, unmedicated adhd, and undiagnosed autism). Didn't get my autism diagnosis until 2022. This was Feb of 2020.

You know what that means.

The pandemic hit. My wife and I got married earlier than planned due to health insurance benefits and never got a traditional wedding due to the pandemic.

I graduated, after struggling to find a new internship (I didn't, but had enough hours anyway). Got my clinical license and became a therapist. I moved practices a few times due to not being valued, but learned a lot at each place. I was EMDR trained which transformed my practice.

I now mostly focus on fellow LGBTQIA+, Autistic/ADHD, complex trauma folx. I've seen real, lasting changes with people I work with. Especially with EMDR.

My wife and I both figured out we were Autistic and nonbinary. We both picked out new names to suit our "new" identities.

That completely changed how I approached therapy and life in general. I finally had words for sensory issues, autistic inertia, interoception, alexithymia, social language differences. I had so much internalized ableism to work through.

Now I get to help people better understand themselves and their parents better understand and accept them.

I will not get into how much I hate ABA, Autism Speaks or anything else that tries to fundamentally change Autistic people or proposes an end goal of eradication.

Long story short...it took 10 years for me to get here. I almost didn't make it. But I'm happier, more stable, and more myself than I've ever been.

#personal

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aroseisblooming · 6 months

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October is almost over and while I didn't reach all the goals I wanted, this month has been filled with so many blessings so far.

I'm most likely getting a huge promotion at work. I say most likely because even though I met with everyone and my transition has already been approved and we have a date of my transition set, I won't believe it til we have got the salary and benefits official, and I sign the contract. That way if last minute it falls apart I won't be disappointed.

My health issues are slowly getting all figured out, I still have more doctors appointments but with each diagnosis and non diagnosis I feel like I can get control of things .which is going to help me as I'm starting to change my diet up more. I want to lose weight but realistically that can't be my focus right now. Right now I need to focus on how I should be eating for the health issues I do have (thankfully none of them are diabetes or pre diabetes). Then once I get used to that I'll meet up with a nutritionist to come up with a plan.

School is going great. 99% sure I'll have 4.0gpa at end of the semester. I've also registered for next semester classes and looking into professional orgs I can join in the new year.

I'm still doing ballet 3x a week,nutcracker season is going well. I want to get back on point end of year but realistically I won't be surprised if I don't. I can see some areas I can approve on that would make pointe alot easier for me but we will see what our ballet school director thinks when evaluation time comes. Going back to gym this coming week finally. I haven't been in month

Other than that I've been just living life. Found a new church that I absolutely love and hope to make my home church. Ballet season has started and we saw our first of the season over the weekend, had family game night (me and my roommates are found family), went to the movies , got dressed up and had a nice dinner and drinks with friend downtown at this very gorgeous restaurant. Next weekend we are going to the symphony to see a special Halloween themed concert, and then Halloween and that's basically all I have planned for the rest of my month

I'm looking forward to what the rest of this year will bring for me though and already thinking about what things I want to accomplish in 2024 ( one of them being finally getting my license and a car of my own)

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dilutedapplejuice · 9 months

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Tw: none

List of my spins ^^

Warrior Cats (2012?-2016?)- I don’t know the time frame, but for a few middle school years this was all I’d read; during lunch, during class, on the bus, after school. I didn’t do any typical fandom things (making an oc or self-insert, talk to other people about it, etc) or reread any of them, and I don’t actually remember anything about the books now, but this was definitely my first SpIn because of how long I was reading the books every day.

Anime (2016?-2019)- After I discovered the wonders of animated shows, I binged anime for 6-12 hours/day. It was my only hobby. I watched all of naruto (including fillers) in ~4 months, and one piece in ~6. I also had some interest in cartoons like Steven Universe or OK KO. I never did fandom stuff here either, but it was still my autistic SpIn! This ended my freshman year of high school because I never had anyone share my interest and I was scared to talk about it with friend because it was “weird.”

Kingdom Hearts (2021)- After lots of masking my SpIns and varying my interests more, I finally found something I really loved again and allowed myself to indulge, Junior year. I never played the games, but watched all the cutscenes from every game within a week. I tried to get my boyfriend to watch them with me again but they weren’t interested. I was involved with the fandom- reading fanfic all the time (one was 300,000 words long, which I finished in a week) and browsing social media to hear about theories and general fandom stuff. I still didn’t share this SpIn with people outside of my (now ex) boyfriend.

Autism (Dec 2022-present?)- I had considered that I might have ADHD before seriously considering autism, and once I discovered a bit more about ASD I felt like everything’s clicked. I became so fixated on this initially that I couldn’t really focus on semester exams, and I actually burnt myself out from learning so much about late-realized autism on social media. I convinced my mom to book me an appt to get diagnosed and continued to intensely learn about autistic experiences. Some trials later, I got a diagnosis in June! I changed my major to psychology so that I could do autism diagnosis, and talked about my autism with a bunch of my close friends. Recently I have had issues with engagin in this SpIn. I’m having trouble integrating what I know about my autism and the mainstream online autism community with nuanced ideas relating to ABA and higher support needs autistic people. I’m not sure how this will pan out, but I’m trying to accept that it’s okay to move on from a spin, if that’s what I need.

General interests:

Reading fanfic, drawing, browsing my spins on social media, watching YouTube, Sonic the Hedgehog, baking, rollerblading, cats, psychological disorders, and more!

Remember, there is no one correct way to be autistic, and this applies to special interests (SpIns)! You can have one or two lifelong SpIns, a few that you cycle between, a running list of SpIns that you never go back to (like me), or none at all! You can have interests beside your SpIn and that doesn’t make you less autistic, and it’s okay to have one or more SpIns that are all you enjoy. SpIns can be an integral part to how you experience the world and relate to other people, be something you hide from others, be debilitating or harmful to you or others, have fluctuating levels of intensity, or any combination of what I have listed above. All of these experiences are valid and WORTH TALKING ABOUT! I love you, wherever you fall on this spectrum.

#actually autistic #I need smth to make sure all my autism txt posts are organized #how about uhhh #autism rambles #that works #woooooooooooo #it’s 5 am

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miekasa · 3 years

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speaking of college boys, what do the college au aot babies study??

Okay, okay, I think I’ve talked about this in an ask before but I can’t find it 😭😭 but it’s okay, I love college aus, so I’ll talk about it again! Plus, now I’ve got more thoughts for more characters, so here we go

Levi — neuroscience and psychology of human behavior

He started out on track to do a bachelor of arts in psychology, but when they touched on the anatomy and biological parts of it during his first year lecture, he switched to a bachelor of science.

The focus is still psychology, but through a more clinical lens. Essentially, he gets the best of both worlds this way. He’s intuitive and analytical, so clinical and mental diagnosis is easy to dissect for him. He’s also canonically good at math, so the calculus and stats parts aren’t too bad, either.

This major also leaves him with a few options post-grad, which is a nice bonus for him. He’s likely going to medical school, but that’s not the only route open to him: law school, therapy, lab work, medicine and pharmacy, even teaching are all viable options without going to grad school.

Do not talk to him about Freud unless you wanna get punted off a building.

Be careful with him, because with a single glance he’s already got scarily accurate predictions about your parental and emotional attachment styles, your behavior in social settings, and the onset (or seemingly lack thereof) of your frontal lobe development.

He thinks he’s so smart making comments like, “I see those synaptic connections aren’t working so well for you today,” like mf come here let me lobotomize you and see how well your synaptic connects are working after that🙄

Eren — general health sciences

He’s interested in science and the discovery aspects of it, but picking a specific field of focus right now feels too final. He likes it this way, because his schedule and requirements are less restrictive, and he has more room to find out what really interests him.

He does best when he’s doing something he loves, so picking a major with a bunch of reqs that he couldn’t care less about would have sucked big time for him. It also would have affected his grades. There are still some classes he has to take that he’s not fond of (see: chemistry), but that’s to be expected. Science in general is cool to him and he hopes to make his own discovery some day, even if it’s microscopic.

He also plays a lot of sports, keeping his schedule flexible is important. The sports end up helping him excel academically, which is a nice bonus. Honestly, Eren uses his time at university to learn more about himself than anything, so having control and freedom to do what he likes the majority of the time was important to him.

He uses his elective credits to take philosophy or history courses of his interest, or maybe even a course that you’re in just to spend time with you. He also uses you as a live model for his homework bye, congrats on being patient number one to him.

Armin — astronomy and physics

He’s still interested in marine biology, but unless he attended a school near a coast, or with a specialized integrated program for that, it’s unlikely he’d major in it during undergrad.

Space and ocean exploration aren’t all that different. Both are vast, largely unexplored domains that reel-in Armin’s interest for discovery. So, while studying astronomy, he still gets to study evolution and make his own predictions about what could be out there because there’s so much to know.

Physics comes with the territory of learning about planetary science, and he’s mathematically inclined, so it works out for him. Learning about the different physical properties of other planets and space masses is honestly pretty sick to him. Because math isn’t a struggle, he actually considered aeronautical engineering, but he didn’t want to be a part of the college to military pipeline; that is, he didn’t want any potential design of his to be weaponized.

He still gets to study animal biology through his elective courses, and might even find a few focused on marine animals to satiate him. Plant and cell biology are also of interest to him, and are just further applications of his primary study anyway, so he’s got plenty of room to work with.

This boy is interning at NASA and still, with his whole chest out is like, “I don’t need to discover a new planet, you’re my whole world.” Armin, go check on the Mars rover or something please.

Mikasa — anthropology + minor in japanese language studies

Anthropology is virtually interdisciplinary in nature, and Mikasa is a pretty well rounded student, so she’s able to excel in a program like this. She gets to study history, science, cultural studies, and even a bit of art all at once.

She’s still debating between going to law school vs med school, so anthro this is a good in-betweener. She gets a taste of science through her anatomy and kin courses; and lots of practice with reading and dissecting texts through the historical and cultural lectures. So, when the time comes to decide, she’ll have some experience with both.

Don’t know whether it’s confirmed that she’s (part) Japanese or not, but either way I headcanon that she speaks/spoke some second language at home. She wanted to delve more into it, and courses were offered at the university so why not?

Cultural studies courses end up being her favorite. She likes learning about the history of people and their cultures, and it encourages her to learn more about her own family history and culture. It also propels her to apply for a study abroad opportunity, so she spends at least one semester doing an exchange program and absolutely loves it.

She would also encourage you to apply and go, too. You guys might not be in the same program, but if there’s an applicable program in the same country she’s going to, then she’d definitely want you to apply. Spending the semester away with you would be a dream come true.

Hange — bioengineering + minor in political philosophy and law

It’s almost self-sabotage to be in an engineering program and have a minor; the coursework for engineering alone is backbreaking, and bioengineering has the added weight of human intricacies, but of course Hange makes it possible.

They’re nothing short of a genius, so of course they have time to work a completely unrelated minor into their schedule. It doesn’t surprise anyone that they go on to complete an MD-PhD after undergrad. Insane.

Bioengineering is essentially the synthesis of chemical engineering and health sciences; Hange spends their time exploring biological sciences and applies the engineering aspects of their coursework to their understanding of (and interest in creating) medicine. Truly a one of a kind mind.

They also have an interest in philosophy and justice, so when they found out they only needed a measly nine or ten courses to minor in, they went for it, of course. In honesty, they don’t find the studies all that opposing: both law making and medicine making both have some kind of philosophy or method to them in their eyes.

Hange has... little to no free time pls. They don’t mind it, because they love their coursework, but this means you are essentially ducking into their labs or scrambling to find them in-between their classes during your time in undergrad. They appreciate every second spent with you tho, and will gladly rope you into long discussions about their work.

Jean — biochemistry + minor in art sustainability

He was undeclared his first year, and took a little bit of everything: art, science, history, anthropology, english. Basically, anything that fit into his schedule. It was hard for him to pick one thing—he liked the science and lab applications of STEM courses, but not the math; and the obvious painting and creativity of art, but hated the pretentious air about art history.

What he wants to do is make a difference, which is how he ends up knowing that he wants to go to med school after, so he picks a science-heavy major, but uses his elective spaces to take art courses. When he mixes the two, he ends up on sustainability—and the complexities about it that are applicable to both science and art are what really reels him in.

Interdisciplinary studies end up being his forte. He can approach sustainability from a science perspective which impacts his art style and materials; and tuning into his creative side allows him to think about science not just from a purely clinical perspective, but from a human one, too—patients are people after all.

He believes that everything is connected somehow, even things as seemingly opposite as art and biochemistry. And he works towards finding the unique intersection where everything overlaps. His studies are pretty cool, and he’s very passionate about them, so ask him about it 😌

The art he makes is pretty sick, too, and often commentary about science; he’s proving they’re not so opposite. You also heavily influence his studies in both areas: caring about you so much inspires him to take the healthcare focus seriously, and your very nature is inspiration to his art.

Sasha — nursing

She’s friendly and good at working with people, so nursing was an easy choice for her. She accredits most of her motivation to being around her younger family members, and learns that she finds a simple kind of joy in helping to take care of others.

She struggles a bit her first year when it’s mostly all grades and standardized testing, but when she starts getting clinical experience and working in the hospital on campus, things round out for her.

Patient care is her strongest point. A lot of people often forget that knowing everything isn’t everything; if you don’t know how to calm or even just talk to your patient, you’re not that great of a healthcare professional.

Pretty certain that she wants to work with kids in the future, but she’s open to public health and even being a travel nurse if she finds opportunity there!

Of course, she’s pretty doting when it comes to you and all her friends. She might want to go into pediatrics, but the basics of nursing and health care extend to everyone, so you’re guaranteed to be well taken care of with Sasha around. You might even have to switch roles and take care of her sometimes, because her coursework can get pretty out of hand.

Connie — computer engineering with a focus on game design

He might not look it, but Connie has a brain under that shaved head of his. Computer engineering is cool to him because he basically learns about how simple things he uses every day (ie: phone, computer, microwave) works.

Systems and coding are actually the easy part for him, especially when they get into the application of it and aren’t just stuck looking at examples. That’s how he gets into game design.

The part about math and electricity and magnetic fields… well let’s just say he needed to make friends with someone who likes math and hardware his first year to get through it. But the struggle was worth it, because by his junior year he’s found a professor willing to mentor/supervise him as he works on his game and other projects, so life is good.

His school work is definitely hard, which is why the lives by the mantra of “work hard, party harder.” It’s only fair.

He makes you a little avatar so you can test out his games for him <33 best boyfriend things <33 He’d also… build a game about your relationship. Every level is a different date you guys went on, and he definitely includes something cheesy, like “There are unlimited lives because I love you forever babe <3”

Porco — kinesiology + maybe mechanical engineering

He’s pretty into athletics and working out, but didn’t wanna go down the sports psychology route; he wanted something that left him with a few more options, so he ended up in kinesiology.

He was surprisingly pretty good at biology in high school, so something stem-oriented works out in his favor, and it turns out he’s pretty damn good at anatomy, too. He’ll probably end up in physical therapy after graduation.

He’s also got a knack for cars, which is where the engineering comes in, but he doesn’t care so much for the math part of it (he doesn’t care for it at all actually, fuck that); he just wants the hands on experience of building/fixing things and working with his hands. So, if he can get a minor in it and not struggle through 4 years of math, then he’d do that. If not, he’d take a few workshop-like classes.

Because he wants to go into physical therapy, you are essentially his practice patient. Your back hurts? Not a problem, he’s basically a professional masseuse. Muscle aches? He’s got a remedy and understanding of why it’s happening. Don’t let him catch you hunting over your desk grinding away at your homework, because he will poke your neck and correct your posture (he’ll also massage your shoulders, but after the scolding).

Pieck — classics + minor in philosophy

Ancient studies interest her, but more than that, the language of ancient Greek and Roman culture fascinates her, so classics is the way to go.

Because her focus within Classics ends up being Greek and Latin language studies, she is essentially learning both languages at the same time. She gets farther with Latin that she does with Greek. For whatever reason, the former comes almost naturally to her, so her written and translated work is more complex in Latin.

However, she finds cultural studies relation to Greece more interesting than that of Rome, so it’s a give and take with both; better at languages for Roman studies, better at culture and history for Greek studies.

Her minor is a natural evolution from her primary coursework. Ancient Romans and Greeks set the foundation for a lot of modern day philosophy, so it comes up in her major classes, but she wanted to delve further into the philosophy, and not just look at it historically, so she takes more courses to fulfill the minor.

Can be found laying on a blanket in the quad on a hot day, with her books spread out all around her, highlighter in hand as she works through her reading. You’re always invited to sit with her, and more often than not, it ends up with Pieck’s head in your lap, a book in her hands, and your own schoolwork in yours as you both read in each other’s company.

Bertholdt — computer science and coding

He’s level headed, good at planning, and above all, patient, so he’s cut out for this. He doesn’t consider himself to be particularly creative, which is why he doesn’t pick a speciality with lots of design; but he’s good at streamlining and ideas to life.

The patience really comes in when his code doesn’t run. It’s frustrating to scroll for two hours just to find out that the issue is a missing semi-colon in line 273 that he overlooked, but Berty will sit there until he finds it.

He’s also good at fixing issues. That’s not limited to issues in the code itself; it can mean finding shorter ways to produce the same function or loop, or integrating new aspects into existing code.

Also, he’d just be so cute, coding away on his computer. Just imagine: Berty working on his homework in the library, he’s got his signature crewneck + collared shirt look going for him, his blue-light glasses, a cup of coffee nearly as tall as him sitting at the corner of his desk. Adorable.

He’d make little codes/programs for you, too, even if it’s silly. A simple code that helps you decide what to eat for dinner or where to go on a date, one that shuffles different reminders for you, hell he’ll even forgo the torture of design engineering just to build you a little robot that says “I love you” to you.

Reiner — english + minor in justice & political philosophy

Everyone expects Reiner, star quarterback of the university’s rugby team, to be a business student or communications student; but no, he’s an English major, and he loves it.

Just imagine a guy as huge as Reiner absolutely manhandling someone on the field, just to show up in his lectures with a tiny paperback of The Great Gatsby tucked between his fingers with his reading glasses on. It’s so precious.

He’s always running a bit late to class—either coming from the gym, or practice, or oversleeping from exhaustion—but he’s so sweet to his professors and genuinely interested in the literature that they don’t give him a hard time about it. They can tell that balancing school and sports is difficult, and they just appreciate that he takes his studies seriously.

Yeah he’s in a book club and he dog-ears his books. What about it. They’re doing poetry this month and Reiner actually likes Edgar Allen Poe. Who said jocks can’t be sentimental.

He also reads a lot outside of his classes, and has a soft spot for coming of age stories. He usually empathizes with the main character somehow. His ideal weekend plans after a week of grueling games and essays is taking a long, relaxing shower at your place, while you both share a bottle of wine, and maybe even get you to read a chapter or two of his current book out loud to him.

Annie — clinical psychology/neuroscience

Almost scarily analytical and methodic, so this major was calling her name. Localizing brain legions is… insanely intuitive to her it’s incredible. She’ll be an insanely impressive doctor someday, even if she doesn’t end up working with patients directly.

She doesn’t care too much for the more philosophical/reading heavy parts of psychology. Even experiments and research closer to the social end of the spectrum aren’t all that interesting to her; but the brain science behind it it.

Nobody should be good at cellular biology. Nobody should be able to ace cell bio and neuro and calc and work towards their thesis proposal in the same semester, but Annie proves it’s possible.

Ends up working in one of her professor’s labs by her junior year. She was offered three TA positions working with first year students, but she swiftly turned them down. Teaching isn’t her thing.

She doesn’t bring up her studies to you unprompted, but if you ask her about them she’ll explain it to you. Her notes are color coded and it’s super neat, and very cute; coloring them is somewhat relaxing for her. She usually saves the coloring part for when you guys study together; there’s extra comfort in doing it with you around.

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ambitionsource · 3 years

Photo

AMBITION Season 3 ♫ “Moment of Truth” [ 3.08 ]

CREATED BY Esther (waterstribe) & Maggie (quincywillows) || Official Page || AO3

SHOWDOWN – Adams and Haverford go head-to-head at the senior showdown finals. The A class scrambles when their polished routine is thrown into jeopardy, and Riley takes control. Charlie makes difficult decisions, culminating in a major confession.

72 Minutes (34.5K words) || No content warnings apply.

[ ← Can You Dig It? ] [ S3 Synopsis ] [ Nature of the Beast → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

EXT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

We launch into the episode, the midseason finale, with focus on Riley’s inspiration board. It not only has the same old stuff from the last couple of seasons but now is updated with new mementos and charming keepsakes -- photos of her and friends (at least one for each bestie), a program from semis and West Side Story, a snapshot of Susan Egan as Belle on Broadway, brochures for NYU and Barnard, plenty of photos of Lucas.

Then we drift down, finding RILEY MATTHEWS settled in the bay window seat beneath it. She’s got her laptop on her lap, hair braided over both shoulders, and gaze focused as she takes a deep breath and then definitively hits her mousepad.

On the laptop screen, the webpage changes, showing a confirmation page on the college common application. Congratulations! Your application has been submitted. When she clicks back to the home page, we see it’s not the only one -- she’s got half a dozen applications officially done and squared away. The only one left hanging is NYU, shooting for the Tisch performing arts program still an uncertain shot.

But otherwise, she’s done. She lets out a pronounced exhale, lifting her head to look at the camera. Not only is her relief palpable, there’s something else shining in her eyes -- excitement. Yes, it’s daunting, but now the future is out there waiting for her.

Optimistic opening tones kick in, setting us truly into motion as Riley pushes her laptop off her lap and jumps to her feet.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Love It Or Leave It” as performed by Tess Henley || Performed by Riley Matthews

Riley’s vocals are easy and carefree as she steps into the performance, dancing around her bedroom in victory for finally being free of applications. She spins and stops in front of her whiteboard, crossing the task off her list with a flourish. When she steps away and out of frame, the writing left behind reminds us just what’s at stake this week.

SENIOR SHOWDOWN FINALS!!

It’s all come down to this moment, and all things considered, Riley seems in good spirits. She continues her energetic singing and grabs her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder as she climbs out the bay window…

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

And onto the streets of her city, taking her sunshine optimism on the road. She continues through the first chorus as she dances along the walk to school, interspersing her commute with skips, slides, and even a few ballet movements and twirls. She deftly avoids other passersby and sends smiles around selflessly, not letting anything tamper her bright mood.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Not everyone is in quite the same high spirit, however. FARKLE MINKUS finishes submitting his last application, to University of Southern California in Los Angeles. He hovers for a moment before hitting submit, then goes back to his email inbox, where an unread email from his therapist is waiting for him. Just from the preview of the email, we can tell that she’s reaching out to check in with him after what happened last week when he suddenly left their appointment.

Any new diagnosis can be scary, but…

Farkle can’t look at it right now. He closes his laptop, taking a deep, centering breath and trying to get back in the zone. This is the week where he has to have it together. This is not the week to be less than perfect.

Looking for a boost of confidence, he reaches into his closet and pulls out his infamous blazer. If there were ever a moment to channel the old him, now would be the time. He pulls his arms through the sleeves, adjusting it on his shoulders and absorbing its energy.

Then he heads out, holding his chin high.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY

ZAY BABINEAUX could probably use some of that confidence too. He’s also looking at his applications. Only one remains unsent -- his one for Turner Academy. As much as he’s dying to go there, with how everything has changed, he can’t bring himself to hit submit.

And this morning won’t be when he does. He runs from it yet again, shutting his laptop.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

CHARLIE GARDNER, on the other hand, has had no trouble submitting his applications. He’s just wrapping up sending in the last one, this one to the prestigious Princeton University. When you look at his full list of submitted apps, they’re all names like that -- Harvard, Yale, Brown, Columbia. Only a couple of others vary in focus, a couple of dance programs peppered in for flavor.

And yet, he seems nonplussed about all of them. In fact, he doesn’t seem to feel much of anything, detached from his college prospects. Like they don’t even belong to him -- and certainly not indicative of anything he wants. Hard to be, when he doesn’t even know what that is for himself.

He clicks back to the home page, glimpsing over his application one more time. One question on the common application seems to be glaring at him.

Tell us who you are.

Charlie glares back. It’s a wonder when the time will come to truly answer it…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Riley takes back control of the narrative, diving into the chorus again with a spring in her step. Some of her other peers feed off her positive energy, like YINDRA AMINO and JEFF MONROE, who dance around her as she passes them in the hall.

She makes her way to the dressing room hall and pushes through the doors…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And spins her way into the wings of the auditorium, back in top-tier shape after the debacles last episode. But the true heft of the lyrics don’t land until she sets her sights on something across the stage, that excited glimmer even brighter in her eyes.

LUCAS JAMES FRIAR. Clear to her through the clutter of her other classmates congregating on the stage, as if he’s spotlighted in her eyes. He’s working on discussing something for showdown with ASHER GARCIA and JADE BEAMON, but after a moment he lifts his gaze and locks eyes with her. Naturally, a small smile ghosts over his lips.

Riley bounces back into the rhythm, pulled in his direction like gravity.

Forgive me but I know what, I know what I want!

She weaves her way through others, skillfully dancing her way through the obstacles, only stumbling when she finally makes it to the other side of the stage. She basically collapses into Lucas, who catches her and steadies her upright, keeping her on her feet. Support and pseudo-choreography all at once.

Riley looks over her shoulder to grin at him, then spins so she’s facing him.

Sometimes I get the feeling I just can’t help myself…

She pulls him towards her and back out of the wings, actually managing to drag him along in half a dance for a good chunk of the remaining chorus. It’s no mystery where at least half of her good mood comes from, with the way she’s unable to stop smiling as she sings to him and twirls under his arm.

When she twirls away he lets her go, allowing her to traverse the stage freely for the rest of the number. As she’s finishing her cheerful solo, the rest of the A class makes their way onto the stage around her, all in rehearsal clothes.

Riley finally comes to a stop as the music peters out, finding her place in the dance lines and standing ready to move. The camera rotates around her, showing off the rest of the seniors also ready to roll, then panning to Lucas, Jeff, and Zay standing at the front of the stage with ERIC MATTHEWS, HARPER BURGESS, and MAYA HART.

And it’s Maya who takes over from there. She steps forward, clapping her hands together, and shatters the hopeful vibe with ease.

Maya: Alright, countrymen, get ready to have your ass kicked for the next five days. Showdown is Saturday, and I will be damned and cast to Hell if Haverford Shlep beats us for the seventh bloody year in a row. This is not amateur hour. And with God as my witness -- if you’re into that sort of thing -- we are going full fire and burning this showdown to the ground. [ lifting her bullhorn ] On your marks! And five, six, seven --

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

We’re in the darkness of the wings, though we can still see most of the class doing run-throughs of their setlist and hear Maya clapping and shouting commands in the background. We’re looking through the lens of NICK YOGI’s camera, who has it facing towards himself. He speaks in a whisper, trying not to get targeted by Maya.

Yogi: So, AAA thotties, here’s where we’re at. After a wild semester, senior showdown is finally upon us, and the A class has been in better straits. A shit ton has happened to get us where we are now, so before I continue on with capturing all the magic and whimsy of showdown preparations --

Maya, off-screen: Is that what you call a kick-ball-change, Chey? When we lose on Saturday, I’m blaming it all on your kick-ball-change. Let’s go again!

Yogi: Dave and I thought it might be smart to quickly recap how exactly we ended up in this mess.

INT. AAA - A/V CLUB STUDIO - DAY

Obviously filmed as an earlier segment, the camera now focuses on DAVE WILLIAMS casually seated at the news desk across from wherever Yogi is set up. The footage is far from polished, shot more like a documentary, and it’s not clear whether Dave realizes they’re filming or if he thinks they’re just shooting the shit. He’s not looking at the camera, eyes directed at his best friend off-screen.

Dave: It’s so crazy, man. Like, I feel like it all started when Charlie left Triple A.

Yogi: Oh?

Dave: Yeah, dude. ‘Cause like, who even cared about Haverford before that, you know? Like, they sucked or whatever, but no one really gave a shit. We knew we’d have to face them with showdown, but the moment Charlie jumped ship it’s like it got all personal. Like he defected to the dark side, and so suddenly we had to know the dark side. You know, like that blonde bitch from Camp Rock and Camp Star which didn’t even exist until they needed a rival and suddenly it had all these important characters in it.

Yogi, trying not to laugh: For sure.

Dave: And the thing is like -- I don’t know if we really told him enough when he was like, actually here, but -- Charlie is good. He was one of our best performers, or at least most reliable, and between him and Zay it’s like we had a monopoly on dance. Hotels on that shit. Showdown felt pretty assured, because when you’ve got dudes who can dance like that, I mean, what was anyone even gonna do to top it? But then Charlie transfers, that juice gets drained by half, and the rest of the dominoes fall.

Yogi: Uh huh. Go on.

Dave: And TBH, I feel like that was part of another thing too -- what happened to Zay. Because everyone knows he went like mega-diva earlier this year, and he didn’t used to be like that. I don’t know if anyone else noticed, but I feel like he and Charlie were close? Best friends, really, which makes sense, since they’re like bonded by dance and stuff. And so when Charlie left I feel like that just totally… like knocked him flat, and made him go all haywire, and all that is what led to him going nuts and never taking a break and fucking up his leg.

Yogi: That’s an interesting take. The way you connect the dots amazes me.

Dave, earnest: But like, look dude, I totally get it. It’s like, I think about if you left Triple A all the sudden and just left me behind. I’d be bummed as fuck. Like I wouldn’t even wanna be at this stupid school anymore. I think Zay is way tougher than I’ll ever be.

Yogi: Wow… that was so sweet. [ sniffling theatrically ] I just need a moment --

The tape cuts quickly, still at the same angle, but indicating a lapse in filming.

Yogi: Would you really wanna not stay at Triple A?

Dave: Why would I, if you’re not here to make it fun?

Yogi: What about Lucas?

Dave: Oh yeah… okay, I’d probably stay. But it wouldn’t be the same.

Yogi, amused: That makes more sense.

The tape cuts again, this time Dave having changed positions. He’s sitting slouched in the chair with one of his entire legs propped up on the table in front of him -- i.e., like a weirdo boy who can’t sit normally.

Yogi: So Zay gets fucked up.

Dave: Zay gets hurt, and that’s a major blow. I mean, there’s where we’re at right now, trying to figure out some bizarro way to replace him. But he was a huge part of the original routine, so now we’re like trying to put a band-aid over a bazooka hole. Then all the money stuff added on top of that which totally distracted us for way more time than we can spare. Not being able to be in the auditorium wasn’t good either.

Yogi: Nope.

Dave: Then with Dora’s mom dying, that like knocked her out of the ring. Which is bad, because Dora is like our tiny, terrifying WWE fighter. A little secret weapon. But like, RIP Valerie and all that.

Yogi: Rest easy, queen.

Dave: But we need the win. Lucas needs it to give scholarships to all the destitute future AAA thotties, and I really feel like if we lose, Maya is going to go full Carrie. But with everyone all wigged over college apps and stuff, and the legacy of six years of Ls hanging over us… it’s not looking good, chief. I wouldn’t say that out there for risk of getting shanked by Maya’s stiletto, but a good reporter tells the truth.

Yogi: Right you are. So if you could say one thing to us for later, win or lose, what say you, Dave?

Dave: Well, I’d say “good luck, Charlie,” but as I just said, Charlie is gone. And he’s with the enemy, so I can’t give him any luck.

Yogi: No. How about “good luck, Davie?”

Dave: [ looking miserably at the camera, which zooms in ] Good luck, Davie.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Back in the present, Yogi whispers a thanks to his best correspondent, Dave Williams, before throwing attention back to rehearsal.

Yogi: Time to see if we can salvage this L.

For a while, we stay with the camera perspective, Yogi stepping through the rows of his classmates to capture footage. Most of them toss him dirty looks or nearly bump into him, and SARAH CARLSON gives him an especially unimpressed glare when he gets up close to her.

Sarah: Aren’t you supposed to be rehearsing?

Haley, off-screen: Can we not have cameras rolling while we’re trying not to crash and burn this week?

Nate, off-screen: Oh, no, Yogi. Run. Yogi, run --

Yogi whips around, coming lens-to-face with a very haughty Maya. She narrows her eyes.

Yogi: Oh, Neptune…

The camera cuts to black.

Back in our usual frame, Maya snaps the camera shut, pointing for him to get back to his place in formation. He snatches his device back, holding his head high as he marches back to his spot.

Yogi: Just trying to preserve the memories. You all will thank me someday when you want to relive these moments.

Zay: I don’t want to live them now.

Maya snaps for them to run it again, moving back to the front of the stage. She claps them in, running the “Rain On Me” choreography beat-by-beat without vocals. Although the moves are still sharp, it just doesn’t feel as coherent without Zay, since the number was built with him in mind. And something just feels… off. Stale. Like we’ve seen it all before.

And distracted minds don’t help. Even with his blazer, Farkle can’t just magically return to top form, so he’s a couple steps behind. His uneasiness creates a ripple effect, those around him adjusting to avoid his missteps and just making ones of their own, until the whole ensemble is out of sync and lost. Maya growls, ceasing her clapping and holding her hands out to stop.

Maya: Come on, people! This whole thing is falling apart before my very eyes. Do not lose your heads now!

Lucas: Maybe it would help to not have a manic pixie nightmare girl screeching at them.

Maya: [ holding up a finger, not looking at him ] Didn’t ask you. Again, from the top! Five, six --

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY

BRANDON RIVAS is in the same role as Maya, clapping them through the choreography of “Seize the Day.”

Brandon: Seven, eight!

Unfortunately (for Adams), the boys are in much better shape. Their synchronization and energy are as sharp as ever, and they’re even back in full dress to work with the costumes. The only thing putting a dent in their perfect rendition is the fact that it seems they’ve introduced some new choreography here and there, Brandon correcting one or two peers while they perform.

Charlie is keeping up easily, but he admittedly seems put off by the changed details. His brow is furrowed as they run through the last pieces of the sequence, eyeing his classmates as they work to adjust their understanding of the number.

When they finish they hold their pose until Brandon signals for them to be at ease, launching into notes. He reminds them that they should put their vocal focus this week behind the new harmonies they’re learning for the middle piece in their setlist -- they’ve swapped it out for something different for finals.

Charlie fidgets until he works up the nerve to raise his hand, waiting for Brandon to acknowledge him. He does, raising his eyebrows at him, and Charlie clears his throat.

Charlie: Is there a reason we’re changing so much stuff? I thought the original choreo for the dance break in Newsies was fine. The judges liked it during semis.

Billy: Duh, of course you like it, Gardner. It’s your choreography.

The comment is said playfully, but there’s just the slightest of edges to it that BILLY ROSS doesn’t conceal. A few of the other Havies chuckle at this, but Charlie persists, trying not to let himself be deterred.

Charlie: And a whole new song for the middle? What was wrong with “Would You Mind?”

Dweezil: Does something have to be wrong to be improved?

Charlie: No, I’m only wondering --

Brandon: It’s fine, Charles. I get it. [ to the group ] Charles wants to know why we’re putting the effort into changing things around when the routines we’ve established have worked for us so far. Is that right?

Charlie pauses, then nods. Close enough. Brandon returns the nod, keeping cool as he paces in front of the boys.

Brandon: I don’t fault you for that. It’s a natural instinct. Stick to what you know, what you know works. Safer that way. [ a beat ] But safe doesn’t win showdown. We need to stay alert, fresh, open to the possibilities. We’ve been doing it for six years, and I believe we’re going to score a seventh. That means being flexible, assessing opportunities for growth and stretching to reach them.

Nice speech, one that Brandon delivers seamlessly. Charlie accepts it, but something about it is still itching at him. Maybe he really is just intrinsically averse to pushing the envelope…

Brandon: As for why we cut the pop middle, strategic maneuver. I just thought something more… classic might better highlight our strengths. Show the ways we stand out against the competition. That’s all. So, if question time has concluded, let’s get in places for “Brotherhood.”

The Havies move swiftly, shifting positions. Charlie follows suit, taking his place behind Brandon, but his expression is still contemplative as they count into the showstopper.

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Maya finds ISADORA DE LA CRUZ in the dressing room, marching up to her at the mirrors and cutting right to the point.

Maya: Okay, we are in meltdown mode out there, so the time has come. Izzy, you need to square up and join rank. It’s time to get back out there.

For what it’s worth, Isadora doesn’t seem surprised. She’s known this was coming for a while now, Maya’s ability to leave her be cracking every day.

Isadora: It’s not that I haven’t thought about it.

Maya: Perfect. There you go then. It’s a sign. So get your jazz shoes on and let’s go.

Isadora: But I’m not at the same level as you all. Maybe I was getting there with the singing last year, but I’m way out of practice now, and I was never there with my dancing. We’re trying to win, and I’ll be lucky if I can get on stage without passing out.

Maya: Please, if Garcia can do it when he’s prone to collapse like an anemic Weeble Wobble, you’ll be fine.

Isadora: But we don’t know that. There’s no guarantee. Even if I want to help, is it really worth risking me fucking it all up? Just for a little extra oomph from someone who is average at best?

Maya snaps, shaking her head and gripping Isadora’s shoulders. Isadora flinches slightly, but she’s used to Maya at this point, so she can get away with the aggressive touch in a time of great consequence. Maya insists that Isadora is way too in her own head -- she was fantastic before, and she will be fantastic now. Talent doesn’t just disappear.

Maya: You have royal blood running through those veins of yours. Bona fide, liquified star power, the real deal. I know it hurts that your mom isn’t here to foster that -- believe me, I know how it feels -- but you’re still here. You are her legacy, and this is your birthright. So it’s time to claim it!

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Born For This” as performed by Paramore || Performed by Maya Hart & Isadora De La Cruz

Maya launches into the rambunctious early Paramore hit, appealing to Isadora in a language both of them know -- angry, empowering, female-led punk rock. It’s the artist that first bonded them, after all, so it’s the best she can offer in a last pitch to get her to come around. As she sings through the first verse she climbs up onto the countertop, strutting along it and hitting strong poses, before leaping back down in front of Isadora.

As she hits the pre-chorus, she leans in close to Isadora, challenging her with her body language to fight back or take the risk to meet her at her level. Then she takes her hand, leading her out of the dressing room --

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

And into the halls for the chorus, Maya jumping and head-banging as she goes. Isadora jogs to keep up, taking over on the second verse as other AAA students begin to join in as the echo. Maya leads them, matching her movements in response to Isadora’s sing-shouting. Then they all create a rocking crowd formation for the chorus again, similar to when the techies took the halls with “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs,” sharply bouncing and dancing their way to the intense music and following the lead of Isadora and Maya, standing side by side at the front of the pack.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Then the mob descends on the cafeteria, finding most of the remaining Adams students. Maya and Isadora take over the lunch room, rallying students at their tables and heightening the energy across the board.

Maya hops up onto a table and pulls Isadora with her, gathering the students around them. This is where they lead the “We! Were! Born For This!” chant, getting the others to echo their declarations. When they escalate up to the belt at the end of the bridge, they stand back to back, Maya leaning her head back theatrically and shouting the note to the ceiling.

Everybody sing!

The cafeteria has become a full-on rock concert, other students jumping onto the tables and getting into the spirit. Maya has a knack for turning lunch time into a spectacle, and this is no exception. The school rock-and-rolls their way to the end, where they all break into hollers and cheers. Maya turns to face Isadora again where they’re standing on the center table, quirking an eyebrow. Well?

Isadora catches her breath… then grins, clasping her hand with Maya’s. Officially on board.

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Back in the dressing room and now part of the team officially, Isadora seeks out CHAI FRESCO. She strikes up conversation as Chai is arranging their semis costumes on the rack, asking if she has a second. Since she’s now joining the performance, Isadora knows she needs to brush up on her dancing. And well, it’s a lot to learn in a short amount of time…

Isadora: Though it kills me to admit it, I know I’m going to need help. I was wondering if you would be willing to stay later with me each day and run through it until I get it down.

Chai: Really? You want me?

Isadora: Honestly, my first thought was Maya, but you’ve seen how she is lately. She is so stressed out over this, I know she won’t have time, and I think she might actually murder me for slow uptake. But her aside… you are the best dancer we have in the A class. Maya would also kill me for saying that.

Chai, touched: … well, thanks. Most people don’t really notice.

Isadora: Not everyone.

Yes, clearly not everyone… either way, Chai is flattered. She agrees to tutor Isadora, assuring her that no matter the choreo, they’ll get her up to snuff in no time. Nothing to freak out over.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Farkle’s blazer has been discarded on the floor, bold callback abandoned. Farkle has folded himself into a protective position on the countertop, avoiding the mirror next to him as he tries to calm down from what feels like an impending panic attack. His hands are shaking as he pulls his sweater over his head, down to just his plain tee but still feeling hot.

Riley pokes her head in, commenting that she finally found him. She’s been looking for him before they go do another run-through… then she notices his shaky state, immediately shifting from friendly to concerned. She rushes over to him, asking what’s going on and if he’s okay.

Farkle: I tried. I really tried, Riley, I tried to just work through it --

Riley: What? Work through what?

Farkle: But I can’t. I’m just -- I’m not myself. I don’t even know what myself is right now.

When she prods him once again, he cracks and spills everything about what happened with his therapist. About his new diagnosis, about being bipolar. He knows it doesn’t actually mean anything, or maybe it actually means clarity, but right now it just feels like too much. So much he doesn’t understand, like having to relearn a whole new identity. Riley does her best to keep up, frowning as Farkle grows flushed and chokes up.

Riley: It’s okay, Farkle. You’re not… I mean, millions of people are bipolar, and they get through it. They figure it out. You’ll figure it out, too, especially since you’ve got top-rate care and the best people to help.

Farkle: I know. [ huffing and wiping his eyes ] I know, it’s silly for me to be freaked. I know it doesn’t really change me, it’s just a label for what I already am. But it just feels like… I don’t know. [ voice cracking ] Like I’m even more to deal with than I was before.

Riley doesn’t know what to say -- she’s not a therapist -- so all she can do is offer comfort. She steps closer and wraps him in a hug, Farkle returning the embrace tightly. They just hold each other for a few moments.

Riley: Farkle, you have always been unique. Uniquely a challenge, but uniquely wonderful, too. Both are some of my favorite things about you. And more than that, you are damningly resilient. [ pulling back to look at him ] You will rise above this too. And it’s not like you have to do it alone, you know that we’re going to have your back every step of the journey.

Farkle: Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Thanks.

He leans forward for another quick hug, which she happily gives him. When they break apart again, Farkle releases a heavy exhale.

Farkle: But Riley, with all this going on… I don’t think I can do it. Showdown. I don’t want to drop out of the performance, but I can’t carry it the way I did for semis. I want to, and I know Maya is going to lose her shit if I don’t, but I just don’t think I can handle it right now.

He’s right about one thing -- Maya is going to flip. Right after she collects one advantage, another domino falls… but Riley understands. Of course she does. She pats his shoulder, giving him the bravest smile she can muster.

Riley: It’s fine. We’ll still have your star power in our ranks, and we’ll find a way to rearrange. You need to do what’s best for you.

Farkle: Yeah. Yeah, I hope.

Riley: Everything is going to be fine. Don’t worry.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Riley reports directly to Lucas and DYLAN ORLANDO, soothing smiles long gone.

Riley: It’s time to worry.

She relays to them that Farkle is stepping down without divulging the details, keeping it simple by explaining he’s not doing well at the moment. It’s lucky that they’ll still have him in the ensemble, but this is just another body blow that she’s not sure their team can take.

Riley: With Farkle off the table, our routine is basically on life support. That’s two out of three of the main vocalists on “4 Minutes” out, and “Rain On Me” isn’t doing so hot either. We can move Nigel up to take Farkle’s role -- which we should, he’s severely underutilized at present -- but even then we’re still lacking major male stage presence.

Lucas: Not great considering Haverford is all testosterone.

Dylan: When you say it like that, it sounds so awful. All testosterone… I can’t believe that’s something our society idolizes.

Lucas: You’re gay.

Dylan: And? I like men, not hormones. It’s not like when I kiss Asher I’m thinking about his sexy cortisol levels.

Riley gets them back on track, reiterating the problem. With their arrangement the way it is right now -- head count and track list -- they’re royally fucked. Dylan and Lucas concur, agreeing that they’re going to need to find some additional male star power to fill the gaps Farkle is leaving behind.

Now where are they going to find that… Dylan glances around them, as if something is missing, and arrives at the obvious answer at the same time as Riley and Lucas. They all exchange a look, tacitly acknowledging exactly who their saving grace should be.

INT. AAA - PROP LOFT - DAY

Convincing that saving grace, well, that’s another story.

Asher: No.

Asher turns away from Lucas and Dylan, both having just pitched the idea to him. He continues to shake his head adamantly even as they scramble to appeal to his better angels, avoiding eye contact by aimlessly shifting around props on the shelves.

Lucas: We’re running out of options --

Dylan: You’re the best damn performer in this school --

Lucas: We’re literally running on empty right now --

Dylan: No, the best performer in the whole state --

Lucas: This whole thing is about to go spectacularly to shit, and you’re really going to sit there and do nothing?

Asher: [ holding up a finger ] Don’t guilt trip me.

Lucas: Well what else am I supposed to do, Asher, when we’re standing on the precipice of total annihilation and you won’t even consider stepping in to save us? When we lose and my political agenda to improve the status and future of Adams itself goes down the tubes, there will be no one left to blame but the secretary who didn’t show up.

Asher: You are so dramatic. Hell, you go up there and take the spot. You can at least match Farkle for theatrics.

Dylan: Come on, Ash! You learn fast, and everyone knows you’ve got talent. You performed during comfort zone week.

Asher: Yes, specifically because it was outside my comfort zone. Hence, the assignment being referred to as “comfort zone week.” And there were consequences if I didn’t. There were grades involved. There was pressure.

Lucas: There’s pressure now. Me. I’m pressuring you to do it.

Dylan: And also last week. Remember “Boogie Shoes?” It was fun!

Asher: A performance for convenience’s sake. Very low stakes. And I was doing it with you. That’s different.

Lucas: So why can’t you do it again now, for convenience’s sake, when the team needs you? Can’t you just, I don’t know, go feral for a week and unleash it all and then we’ll all move on? Just do it, spaghetti!

Asher scowls and narrows his eyes, pointedly dropping the prop he was moving back on the shelf. He whips around to face them again as he responds, escalating in pitch as the words tumble out.

Asher: How many times do I have to tell you that I HAVE ANXIETY!!

Well, Lucas wanted feral Asher, and boy does he get him. Lucas and Dylan both go quiet as Asher spirals into a deliciously lively spiel about how anxiety works, and no he cannot just turn it off for “convenience sake,” and you Lucas James Friar really have no conception of how other people’s feelings work, not to mention the fact that even if he did think he could keep up with the performers for this it will be in front of a huge audience, which is a big fat automatic no. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help, or be a team player, of course he does, all he ever does is try to be a team player, that’s like his whole life playbook, but sometimes they all ask just a little too much of him! Sometimes he has to put his foot down and say no! Although it’s quite an impressive monologue, the whole thing kind of has a ridiculous comedic hue to it.

Asher: So no, I am not brain dead enough to act like I’m good enough to step into the showdown setlist. I would pass out the moment I hit the stage, and I think if I have to learn all that in five days I’ll break out in hives, and if I have to work with Maya Hart I swear to God I will pitch myself off the catwalk. So read my lips. No. No! Nay! Negatory!

Dylan, under his breath: Thesaurus bonus.

Asher: I will absolutely not perform in that sinking ship that is showdown. And there is nothing -- nada! -- you could possibly do or say that will make me change my mind.

Asher exhales a huff, raising his eyebrows and daring them to challenge him on it. Lucas and Dylan blink, exchanging a look out of the corner of their eyes. Then they glance back to Asher, perhaps at a stalemate…

Then Dylan smiles.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “4 Minutes” as performed by Glee Cast || Instrumental

The horns blare, signaling that we’re on a roll again -- and Asher is in Farkle’s spot. He spins around to reveal him amidst the performers, looking overwhelmed and reluctant, but doing his best to keep up with the new choreography as Maya continues to clap out the beat.

So much for no way, Jose! In the wings, Lucas and Dylan watch smugly, victorious. Lucas shakes his head at the ridiculousness of the whole thing.

Lucas: And he calls me dramatic. What sort of threat did you have to throw at him to get him to cave?

Dylan: [ with a sly smile ] Who said anything about a threat…

They exchange another side glance, Dylan’s smile widening. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Lucas rolls his eyes.

But while Isadora and Asher fill out much needed lapses in captivating stage presence, “4 Minutes” is a disaster with them in the ensemble -- let alone trying to fill the shoes of such different performers. It just doesn’t work for this new combination of people, and it doesn’t take long for Maya to shut it down and declare the run-through a failure.

Maya: Though who is surprised, considering the no-meat chicken legs we’ve subbed in for Farkle.

Dylan: Oh boy.

Asher: I’m sorry, Maya, did you see anyone else chomping at the bit to join this trainwreck. No? I wonder why… maybe because they didn’t want to be yelled at by Tyrant Barbie.

Maya: Deflect all you want, Garcia. It’s not my fault your chicken legs can’t keep up.

Asher: Oh, say that again. I dare you. Say it again.

Maya: [ into her bullhorn ] Cluck. Cluck.

Asher: Okay, that’s it --

Tensions are already high, and Asher and Maya are the perfect gasoline to set it all on fire. Dylan and Lucas dart out of the wings just as Riley and Isadora dart between Maya and Asher, nudging them towards opposite sides of the stage. Asher tries to leap for Maya but Dylan grabs him by the torso and yanks him backwards, facing him away from her.

The rest of the class has broken into chaos with them, but Riley shouts to restore order. She points out that losing their heads isn’t going to do them any favors. They need to keep their cool if they want any chance of getting through this week -- and that means everyone.

Zay: Take her bullhorn away, I think that’s a good first step.

Crisis temporarily averted, Riley jumps into team brainstorming. Clearly, something isn’t clicking. Her brain is working a mile a minute, trying to land on what the problem might be.

Haley: Maybe we just need more people? There’s strength in numbers.

Darby: Haverford has at least 25 boys competing from their senior class. We’re not even matching that.

Yindra: A good performance doesn’t need quantity. It takes quality.

Missy: Which is clearly out of stock in this auditorium.

Nate: Well maybe if we had more quantity, we’d collectively get more quality.

Considering the stakes and tension, Yindra takes NATE MARTINEZ’s snippy tone as a dig, and the two of them start to bicker. Riley cuts it off preemptively, Nate retreating over to Jeff and Jade. Dylan jumps in, trying to help.

Dylan: If we need more people, I can tag in.

Maya: For the love of God…

Dylan: I don’t learn as fast as Ash, but I can pick up enough to get by.

Lucas: Help round out the male presence too.

Riley: Yeah. Yeah, that’s great Dylan, thanks.

A potential solution for now. Maya tells everyone to take five and then they’ll regroup to run it again one more time before they wrap for the afternoon -- and Dylan should start getting tips from others in the meantime if he’s gonna catch up.

But Riley stays put while the others disperse. Her brow is still crinkled, lost in thought. It’s great that they’ve got another talented person bolstering their performance, but something about it still doesn’t feel right.

And though she dreads to think it, she wonders if the issue runs much deeper than manpower.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Isadora catches up to a grumpy and frazzled Maya, pulling her aside and advising her to take a deep, cleansing breath. Maya waves off the impact of such a silly gesture outright, yet she complies anyway and takes a long, theatrical breath.

Once she’s done, Isadora continues.

Isadora: After rehearsal, I want you to come with me. I think I have something that’ll make you feel better.

Maya: Oh, do you? Bold claim, Izzy. Don’t tease me. You’d need a miracle to relieve the tension knots I’ve got in my starlet shoulders right now.

Isadora: And I’ve got just that. This will be good, whether we win showdown or not.

Isadora raises her eyebrows, playfully challenging her not to agree, then saunters off with a knowing smirk. Seems like a high bar, but Maya is intrigued nonetheless.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - SENIOR LOUNGE - DAY

We hear the familiar track of the A class’s rendition of “Rain On Me,” but it’s filtered through tinny laptop speakers rather than being appreciated in its full glory.

That’s because a bunch of the Haverford boys are watching a recording of their semi-finals performance on DWEEZIL HOWARD’s laptop. Professional-grade filming, all right there for them to see. Brandon’s flash drive is plugged into the computer. The Havies laugh and talk amongst themselves as they watch the performance, both making fun of it and making note of all the ways Adams might be a threat at the same time.

Evan: Babineaux is a really good dancer.

Havie: Yeah, thankfully he took care of himself so that we didn’t have to.

A couple others snort, high-fiving. Charlie enters the student lounge, pausing when he hears the unfamiliar content his classmates are watching. He frowns slightly, listening closely. Curiously, it actually sounds strangely familiar… like… but no, it couldn’t be…

Then he hears a baritone he would recognize anywhere -- Zay on his brief vocal solo -- and he knows his instincts are right. It is the A class, the medley of his former peers’ voices undeniable once he confirms it.

He makes his way over, trying his best to be cool and casual as he joins them. Most of the boys greet him cheerfully, though Dweezil’s smile fades and he tenses up when he realizes Charlie has joined them. It seems like he wants to turn the screen away, but it’s too late.

Charlie: [ feigning ignorance ] What’s everyone looking at?

Havie: Check it -- Brandon got his hands on the Adams showcase.

Charlie takes the invitation, stepping closer and looking over his classmates to see for himself. There they are, right in front of his eyes -- the A class, doing their full routine at semi-finals. Someone makes a snide comment about one of Maya’s vocal runs and the group chuckles, Charlie awkwardly laughing along.

Charlie, innocently: Isn’t that against the rules?

Havie 2: Only if you get caught.

Havie, smugly: Considering we’ve done this for the last six years, I don’t think the showdown rules committee is especially strict.

The last six years? That certainly explains Haverford’s damning winning streak… and Brandon’s sudden desire to change up their setlist. He’s making tweaks based on AAA’s performance, finding ways to heighten their strengths and set them even further apart from the competition. Charlie swallows, trying to process everything without giving away his panic, but Dweezil is watching him like a hawk.

EVAN SCOTT notices too, eyeing him with concern.

Evan: You okay, Charlie?

Charlie hesitates, unsure what to say. He knows it matters. Tell us who you are. Tell us who you are. Tell us who you are…

Then he relaxes, managing an easy smile. Stepping into that same charm he flexes at church, disarming everyone and negating any need to give him a second thought.

Charlie: I was just thinking my former classmates were going to bring tougher competition. [ nodding to the video ] Obviously, I was wrong.

The boys laugh, nodding and hooting in agreement. A couple of them pat Charlie on the arm, and he flashes the Prince Charming smile. But once attention goes back to the Adams tape, the veneer dims.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - ELEVATOR - DAY

Maya eyes Isadora with suspicion as the two girls travel up in an elevator. Isadora has refused to explain what’s going on, but has an uncontrollable smile on her face.

Maya: If you’re bringing me here to show me a new luxe pad you and Eric are getting, it will not make me feel better, I hope you realize.

Isadora laughs, but says nothing. The elevator dings as the doors slide open.

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - HALLWAY - DAY

Isadora leads Maya to the door for apartment 803 and stops in front of it, her excitement palpable. Maya raises her eyebrows and looks at Isadora expectantly.

Isadora: Open it.

Maya: I really don’t have time for this, Izzy. Your dance skills are severely lacking, remember, and this is starting to feel like a way to avoid practice.

Isadora: [ with an eye roll ] Just go in. Trust me.

Maya sighs, but obliges.

INT. APARTMENT 803 - DAY

Behind the door is a cozy apartment with large windows looking out to the city. There isn’t much furniture, only the essentials such as a couch and kitchen table, along with cardboard boxes dotted around. With her back to Isadora and Maya, a blonde woman crouches to dig through one of the boxes.

Maya looks around as they enter, impressed but confused. Upon hearing their entrance, the woman hurriedly stands up and turns to them. It’s KATY HART, who grins when she sees her daughter.

When Maya notices her mother, her jaw drops. She stands frozen for a moment while Katy rushes over and embraces her. It takes a moment for her brain to catch up, but when it does, Maya hugs her back just as tightly, squealing with joy.

When they pull apart, both their faces are streaked with tears. Katy holds Maya’s head in her hands and brushes hair away from her face.

Maya: I missed you so much.

Katy: It’s so good to see you, baby girl.

Maya: I don’t… why are you here? How are you here? What even is here?

Katy looks over at Isadora. When Maya spins around to follow Katy’s gaze, realization hits her. She looks around the apartment again, this time in awe.

Maya: Is this… for us?

Isadora: My mom made a lot of promises that she didn’t end up keeping. Moving Katy back to New York to be with you was one of the biggest. It didn’t feel fair for that to fall apart because of her death. I’ll foot the rent bill until you’re all settled and find new work and help with the decorating.

Katy: You’re such an angel, Isadora. I can never thank you enough for this.

Isadora waves Katy off, a blush rising to her cheeks. A fresh wave of tears hits Maya and she pulls Isadora in for a hug.

Maya: You’re the best. The absolute best. I love you, thank you.

Isadora, lightly: You’ll pay me back when you’re rich and famous, anyway.

While Maya takes off to inspect every detail of the space and begin designing her dream apartment in her head, Katy stays with Isadora. She gives her a warm smile.

Katy: You’re growing up into such a fine young woman. I’m sure Valerie would’ve been so proud.

Isadora, quietly: Thank you.

Katy: Eric is wonderful, but know that I’m here if you ever need a mom to talk to, okay?

Katy gives Isadora a small pat on the shoulder, then heads over to where Maya is taking pictures of the space. Maya grins up at her mother and hugs her again.

Maya: I need to make sure you’re really here and not a figment of my imagination. The power of my creativity has been astounding me lately. Remember what I told you about the dentist? Well, I had a revelation…

Isadora watches on with a bittersweet smile. Not a bad first impact to make with what Valerie left behind.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Lucas is at his usual spot behind the counter, but work is slow and his mood is even more dejected than normal. Riley is in the same low spirit, chin propped on her hand as she sits opposite him on a stool, both of them talking about Adams’ increasingly poor chances at finals. At this point, with the way they’re hobbling through it, it’ll be a miracle if they aren’t booed off the stage.

Lucas: It’s fine. I wouldn’t be the first president to make promises they didn’t keep -- nor the last, I’m sure.

Riley: I just… I feel like we’re stuck. [ sitting up straighter ] It’s like, we’re not short on star power or talent. We’re not short on effort. We all want this victory, maybe for different reasons, but there is a unified cause. That’s not always the case with our class.

Lucas: You’re cute. It’s never the case.

Riley: My point is that we have all the elements, all the right pieces, but I feel like we’re trying to put them together to create a tableaux that doesn’t… exist anymore. Like sure, the routine got us through semis, but it was a different time and a different team. By sticking so tightly to this predetermined vision of how things were supposed to go, I think we’re shooting ourselves in the foot. Like shoving a round block into a square hole -- it just doesn’t fit.

Maybe so, but what’s the alternative? Start over from scratch, with a week to go? Riley admits that it seems daunting…

Riley: But I don’t know. At this point, what do we have to lose? There’s so much talent that we’re not highlighting in this set, so much unique charm in our class. And I think if we have any chance of beating Haverford, it’s going to be because of all those things that set us apart. We’ve pulled off greater feats before, I think we could do it if we all really committed to it. [ with a sigh ] But I know that’s not going to happen. No one wants to risk changing it up.

Understandably so, but it’s clear it’s weighing on her. She presses her palms to her eyes, releasing another sigh. Lucas frowns, obviously wishing there was more he could do to fix it -- he doesn’t even have the words to comfort her since he’s no good with them. But he offers an attempt, speaking softly.

Lucas: Look, you know I’m the last person you should go to for performing advice, so I can’t exactly comment on whether the setlist would be better off scrapped. I mean, I know it’s a fucking trainwreck right now --

Riley: I think that’s clear to even the most presentationally challenged.

Lucas: But what I do know is that I trust you. If your gut is telling you that something about this isn’t right, then I believe it. Your instincts are almost as sharp as mine --

Riley: Almost?

Lucas: In performing, you outrank me. Everything else, up for debate. [ off her nose crinkle ] Bottom line, you know what you’re talking about. And when you talk, people listen. If you feel like doing this might save our chances, wild as it might be, then you should tell the others. And whatever you choose to do, I’m marching right behind you.

Wow… well, with that shining seal of approval… Riley holds his gaze, contemplating his words. Then she manages a tired smile, taking his hands and pressing a quick kiss to his knuckles.

The brief slice of serenity is interrupted when Charlie pushes through the door, spotting Riley at the counter. He rushes over and tosses half a greeting towards Lucas, restless and out of breath, then turns to Riley.

Charlie: I need to talk to you.

Riley: Well, good thing we’re having lunch then. [ hopping off the stool ] Do you want to like order anything first --

Charlie, desperate: No, Riley, I -- it can’t wait. It’s important.

Riley clocks his nerves, losing her friendly ease. She takes his arm and leads him quickly to a booth.

Riley: What’s wrong? Is everything okay with your family? Rosie, or Bridgette --

Charlie: No, no, they’re fine. It’s not about that. It’s about showdown.

Riley: Showdown? [ uncertain ] Charlie, I don’t know if we should be discussing…

Charlie: Not like what Haverford is doing. I mean, sort of -- [ hitting his palm against his forehead in agitation ] shit.

Riley: Charlie, you’re worrying me. What’s going on?

Charlie screws his eyes shut, inhaling a breath and holding it. When he opens his eyes, he meets her gaze, and that’s the moment where it’s all or nothing. Dangerous consequences in either direction, the fear of action paralyzing him, but that same question rattling in his skull.

Tell us who you are.

Charlie exhales, eye contact steady as he steels himself.

Charlie: There’s something you need to know.

Riley stares at him, eyes wide, bracing for the unknown.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The A class is assembled on the stage, forming a semblance of a circle around Riley. She’s holding court, reluctantly delivering the bad news.

Riley: Haverford knows our setlist.

The reaction is instantaneous. There’s a mix of gasp and curses, and only seconds before nervous and indignant chatter breaks out. What? How? You’re kidding.

Isadora: How is that even possible?

Riley: As far as I know, they got their hands on a recording of our performance at semis from an outside source.

Zay: So they didn’t risk getting caught recording themselves.

Chai: Lord knows they could afford it.

Riley: They’ve been using it to alter their routine. They’ve already changed a lot of stuff to contrast ours.

Lucas: And apparently they’ve been doing this for a while. [ pointedly ] Like six years.

Nate: Those bitches.

Dave: So many people begging to get egged these days.

Asher: So we should report them. If we file a complaint, the sponsors will investigate and they’ll no doubt find the footage on them. Karma.

Riley: No, we can’t. It’s probably too late for them to do a thorough investigation anyway, and I don’t want this to blowback on Charlie. He risked a lot telling me about it, I’m not going to risk throwing him under the bus if they find out we know.

Nigel: Or worse, if they think he snitched himself.

Riley: I mean, imagine if one of us went and told Haverford information we wanted to keep secret. What would you do to them?

Maya: Itching powder in their stage make-up and a full-throttle psychological assault until they’re so worn down they drop out and transfer to Quincy High to be a humdrum accountant for the rest of their days. [ a beat ] Oh, I see. You meant that rhetorically.

Long story short, no going to the disciplinary committee. It wouldn’t do much, anyway, seeing as the only technical proof they have is word of mouth. This grim reality settles over them, Yindra declaring what everyone is thinking.

Yindra: Well, it’s over. Nice run, gals and gays.

Maybe so… the energy in the room plummets, the feeble hope keeping them moving dissolving with their prospects of a showdown victory. Zay grits his teeth, crumbling the edges of his choreography sheets. Maya delicately places her bullhorn at her feet, walking away from it and turning from the group to hide her emotion. Dylan rests his chin on Asher’s shoulder; Isadora reaches for Farkle’s hand and squeezes, keeping her eyes glued to the floor.

Riley looks around at all her classmates, empathizing with their defeat… until her gaze lands on Lucas. He’s already looking at her, watching her expectantly. He dips his head in half a nod, subtly emphasizing his earlier encouragement. It might feel hopeless, but if there were any time to suggest the impossible… and where she leads, he will follow…

Riley squares her shoulders, keeping her eyes locked on his, and finds her voice.

Riley: Maybe it’s not over just yet.

She certainly captures everyone’s attention. Heads perk up and eyebrows raise as Riley steps center stage, appealing to all of them that the fight isn’t over until the results are read Saturday.

Sarah: Come on, Matthews. You can’t be serious.

Nate: Yeah, I mean, I love the sunshine bit as much as the next baddie, but how are you going to spin this?

Riley: Am I wrong? This thing isn’t done until a victor is declared -- or we decide it’s over. And I don’t know about you all, but I’m not looking to just hand over a win to the Havies, especially one they really don’t deserve.

Maya: … okay, I’m listening. Make your pitch, Riles, and make it a good one.

And she does, ardently. The way she sees it, their chances aren’t dead. They just have to reinvent themselves. Rearrange, reorganize, find a better way of showcasing who they are and what they’re about. They did it last year -- in circumstances much harder than these -- and came out stronger for it. They’re a team now, and if they could survive all of that, they can rise above this. They just have to do exactly that: showcase who they are.

Riley: Haverford thinks that to win, they need to know what we’re up to ahead of time -- which means they’re scared -- and prove all the ways they aren’t us. Well, I say we hit them back right where it hurts and show just how much they can’t match our stride.

Nigel: With what, a whole new routine?

Darby: You’re kidding. In a week?

Riley: Every week we come up with dozens of performances! That’s what we spend every single day in this school doing. And with all of us working together? Yeah, I think we could pull something off.

Clarissa: Something the Havies have no way of cheating to beat...

Exactly! Now we’re feeling the spirit! The energy is tentative, just starting to bubble up again amidst them all, hope peeking back out through the darkness to shed some light. Riley feeds off it, growing more impassioned.

Riley: And this time, we need to focus on all of the things that make us stand out. That make us different, better, special. What are some of the things we have that Haverford doesn’t?

Farkle, flatly: … women?

He’s somewhat joking, but Riley rolls with it. She taps her nose in agreement, a signal to keep the ball rolling. The wheels are turning now…

Yindra: Individuality. You don’t see us walking around in some pretentious ass uniforms.

Nigel: And the best costumer in the state in our ranks.

[ All eyes turn to Jade, who flushes. She bashfully pushes some hair behind her ear from her spot beside NIGEL CHEY, but then straightens up in an attempt to match the confidence. ]

Jade: A costumer who did just submit all her applications and now has free time to make something new…

The thought process keeps moving from there. Personality. Some of the best young talent in the city. Skilled technicians.

Riley: We have one of the best student technician programs in the country here, and yet there’s never a focus on that at showdown. But we can change that. Jade can make costumes that are unforgettable. We can play with movement, set pieces, production details that’ll put it over the top. These are the kind of things we should be showcasing, the things we’re so lucky to have in this class that the Haverford boys will never get.

For what it’s worth, it seems like everyone is coming around. The spark is back, and even if it’s a futile mission, might as well go out with a bang rather than fizzle to nothing before the fire truly gets going.

As if to cement the mission, Maya makes a statement of her own. She scoops her bullhorn off the floor and marches to center stage… then hands it over to Riley. A symbolic passing of the torch for a new game plan. She gives her a smirk, only the slightest bit reluctant to relinquish control.

Maya: Bang bang.

Yes, Riley Matthews has let her firecracker side take control. She returns Maya’s smile, choosing not to use the bullhorn but launching into planning mode regardless. She turns to Zay first, asking if he’d still be willing to sketch out new choreography for them on such short notice and although he can’t run through it himself.

Riley: We should have never boxed you out of the vision. You’re the best dancer there is, and that doesn’t change just because you can’t do it yourself at the moment. [ a beat ] Do you think you can do it?

Zay: … [ as if it’s a difficult decision ] It won’t be anywhere near as good as it would be with more time and actual mobility, but I’m sure I can throw something together.

The corners of his mouth lift just slightly, signaling to Riley what she wants to hear. Apology accepted. She nods, grateful for more than one thing.

Nate: You should get Jeff to help. He’s a killer break dancer.

Zay: That’s true. If we’re talking about underutilized assets, that’s a big one. You can probably fill some of the gaps left behind by me with some skillful showing off. Even just some basic party trick break dancing will wow a standard audience. [ to Jeff ] What do you say?

Jeff: As long as I can map out the lighting design and pass it off to Lucas, then I say hells yeah.

Sick! Jeff jogs over to Zay and exchanges a fist bump handshake with him, Riley grinning at both of them. She then turns to Farkle.

Riley: I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now.

Isadora raises her eyebrows at this. News to her, though she definitely clocked his uneven mood as of late… Farkle listens attentively, waiting for Riley’s request.

Riley: But you’re the most creative person I know when it comes to innovating music, at least from a spectacle standpoint. [ re: Clarissa ] And we’ve got an amazing concert musician in our midst who knows a thing or two about composition. Between you, Clarissa, and Nate’s mixing skills, I think you might be able to mash together a showstopper not easily forgotten.

Farkle: Give me the tone you’re going for, and I’ll see what this basket case can deliver.

Okay, now we’re cooking with fire! Riley turns to Jade, but she’s already moving, passing by her with Asher, Nigel, and Haley in tow en route to the costume loft.

Jade: Already on it. Let me know the setlist when it’s mapped out.

Having spun basically all the way around, Riley is back to Lucas. She meets his eyes, the two of them holding eye contact for a long moment. The rest of the techies and remaining A class yet to be assigned a task stand at attention, waiting for marching orders… but he’s looking to her. The hint of a flirtatious challenge laced in his expression, daring her to tell him what to do.

And she does, though she can’t help the teasing smirk that ghosts over her features.

Riley: If we’re going to pull this off, it’s going to be all hands on deck. The techies might have to work double time to pull together what we need, but it’ll be worth it to show off how fantastic we really are. And you can put the performers to work too when we’re not rehearsing… if you think you can do it.

Challenge laid down... as if there was ever any doubt he would accept it. But Lucas plays along, unable to hold back the slight quirk in his lips that mirrors her own. He doesn’t break eye contact with her, but declares to the assembled group:

Lucas: You heard her.

That they did, Lucas. Loud and clear! Riley continues to smile at him as the A class erupts into a flurry of movement around her, back to work and more energized than ever before. The engine of Motown swing rumbles to life, underscoring the new endeavor…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Get Ready / Dancing In The Street” as performed by Motown The Musical Original Broadway Cast Recording || Performed by AAA Seniors

The performance carries through the ensuing montage of the A class hustling to put together a brand new routine, firing on all cylinders to bring it together. To kick us off, Riley starts in the black box classroom with Zay, Yindra, Maya, and Isadora, deliberating on the white board about what songs or series of songs should populate their new list. There’s a lot of key words scattered across the board -- individuality, range, the power of women -- but it seems they’ve already narrowed it down to their chosen concept.

Riley finishes up jotting down all the ideas on a piece of paper, the others leaning over to snap photos and send them out to people in the class. Sarah rushes in and takes the original paper from Riley, saluting as she takes off again into the hallway with it. The moment she’s out there door of one room --

INT. AAA - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY

She’s dashing into the next, joining Farkle, Nate, and CLARISSA CRUZ in the practice studio. Sarah hands the setlist ideas to Farkle at the piano, settling down next to DARBY WINTERS who is helping try out chords on her guitar. Nate has one half of his industrial headset on, fiddling with a sound mixing program on his chunky laptop as they avidly discuss whatever they’re scheming together.

Clarissa is listening with rapt attention to the discussion, only tuning out when she gets a text on her phone. She quickly lets them know she’ll be back in a minute, darting out of the studio --

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

And arriving in the costume loft, though she pauses in the doorway. Jade is already dealing with someone, Maya having paid a visit to the costume loft to argue over certain costume concepts in regards to the new setlist. Just before the dance break, the music quiets somewhat, vamping under the scene as it unfolds.

While Maya is at her full diva pitch -- though, to be fair, she is just trying to do what she thinks is best for the team -- Jade Beamon has finally had enough. She stops trying to ignore Maya and holds up a hand to stop her costuming team at work, Asher, Nigel, Yindra, and Isadora pausing and staring as Jade swivels to face off with her. She sharply and deftly defends her vision for the costuming, citing her thought process with curt, to the point reasoning. She also takes Maya down with impressive calmness, especially considering the circumstances and the fact that Maya used to make her cry from being so nitpicky just about two years ago.

Jade: Believe it or not, Maya, I think I know what I’m doing given that I’ve designed almost every costume you’ve worn and made you look good for the past three and a half years. So how about you focus on your business, and you let me handle mine?

Damn. Mic drop! Maya stares at her, processing the clapback and debating whether to tear her to shreds in response or not… but ultimately, she opts to back off. If anything, Jade growing a backbone might’ve been the cure to Maya’s overbearing obnoxiousness the whole time. She leaves Jade to it, claiming she should let her know if she needs any additional help -- she’ll send someone else to do it tout de suite.

The others watch in fascination as Maya Hart retreats, strutting past Clarissa shocked and awed in the doorway. Jade takes a deep breath, recentering herself, and flips her loose ponytail back over her shoulder.

Jade: Where were we?

Back to work, team! No time to waste! They get back down to business as if nothing happened, which is impressive considering that was some big news we just witnessed.

The only one who doesn’t immediately get back to work is Nigel, who continues to stare at Jade like he can’t believe she’s real. What a woman…

As the dance break instrumentation swells back to full volume --

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Zay is tapping out the beat to a track with his good foot, bopping his head and talking through some choreography and steps with Jeff and Chai. They actually walk through the steps since he can’t, but the rapport seems to be good, and whatever they’re putting together already looks cool. They land on a particularly neat idea for a combination and Jeff and Chai high-five, the former leaning over to fist bump Zay too.

Suddenly, the dance studio that felt so lonely and isolated for so long is filled with camaraderie and enthusiasm again. Zay grins, feeling the rhythm again even though he can’t be on his feet. He jots down the combination idea, flipping the paper over --

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And becoming Dave slamming a paint bucket at his feet, working with Dylan to put together a rolling flat that will become part of the dynamic backdrop for their performance. Dylan tests it by hopping onto it, throwing his arms out as Dave practices pushing it. They roll seamlessly out of the wings and onto the stage as the last pre-chorus launches into the final minute…

Where we find the A class back together, running through choreography and vocals together of their new routine. In this moment they perform the current song, subbing in for what their actual setlist will be, but getting the energy up and translating the hard work all the same. It’s powerful seeing them all come together, truly united like never before, and showing off exactly why they’re at such an elite school in the first place.

Zay takes the final belted run of the performance, jumping up from his seat where he, Lucas, and Maya are watching the run through. He throws his head back and lets it fly, the rest of the class backing him up at the very end to drive the number home.

Break 1.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The A class finishes an actual run through of their new routine, the passage of time indicated by the fact that they’re all in new rehearsal clothes. They’re breathless and sweaty but teeming with excitement. Even if it’s slapdash, even if it ends up not being enough, they clearly feel invigorated by whatever they’re putting out there. There is something so naturally riveting about underdogs making their last shot…

Zay has the floor in Riley’s absence, giving feedback and not only pointing out what could use refinement, but also what’s working. The positive reinforcement seems to be helpful, keeping everyone in light spirits in spite of the odds stacked against them.

As they’re about to break for rehearsal for the evening, Maya pipes up, asking if she can have a few words. Zay is reluctant, but obliges, stepping back next to Lucas.

Maya reveals that while they have been working hard on a majority of their new banging setlist, they still haven’t settled definitively on an opening number. Nothing has quite clicked right yet. Because of this, she argues, they’re going to need something that will fall together effortlessly -- which means a diva number. Since the rest of their routine is so heavy on the ensemble, it shouldn’t be an issue to let a powerful mezzo soprano kick off their show. It’s traditional, really, to have a star force central to some part of a showdown routine.

Maya: Lucky for us, I have the perfect pitch. It came to me in a vision, actually, when I was heavily incapacitated in a dire health operation --

Farkle: Oh no.

Isadora: It was a filling, Maya.

Maya: And I can think of the perfect starlet to carry the number.

For a moment, the class hangs in limited suspense. Of course, she’s going to volunteer herself. But then Maya steps across the stage, making her way to stand in front of Yindra.

Maya: If we’re showcasing the best and most underutilized, then I believe the choice is obvious. [ off her surprise ] Now I’m not giving up this opportunity lightly -- and rest assured, the pain in my ego is so blinding I will probably have to undergo another incapacitating surgery to recover from it --

Zay: Really selling the selflessness here.

Maya: But I know you’ve got what it takes. If anyone here was ever sincerely a threat to my mezzo diva dominance… I can admit you come close. So now is the time to deliver, Amino.

Another crazy moment. Maya, sharing the spotlight… I guess that’s growth. Yindra beams, shrugging her shoulders suavely.

Yindra: Don’t have to ask me twice. Let’s get to staging.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Post-rehearsal mayhem, everyone is rushing around gathering their things for the weekend and making sure they’re all up to date on what the plan is for tomorrow. Isadora bumps into Farkle, asking him if he’s seen Riley, but he merely shrugs.

Farkle: I think she said last week that she had a doctor’s appointment. Probably wasn’t planning for our entire showcase to change in that time.

Isadora: Yeah, no kidding.

Whatever she wants to debrief with Riley, it’ll have to wait until later. Isadora starts to check in with him, see if everything is okay since he randomly stepped down from the spotlight -- concerningly out of character, in her opinion -- but Farkle dodges the question.

This doesn’t sit well with her, but she lets it go for now. Too many crises going on right now to keep up with -- though Farkle will always be high on her priority list.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Yindra is hanging back to gather the last of her things and read through the new opening number choreography one more time, lightly stepping through the moves as she sings to herself under her breath. The rhythm sounds slightly familiar, but it’s just soft enough that only someone really listening carefully could make it out.

It stops soon anyway, Yindra halting and jumping in embarrassment when Zay appears in the doorway. She tilts her chin up and grows defensive again, but it’s clear the effort of being cold with him is tiring. He chooses not to acknowledge it, entering the classroom and commending her for her soft-shoe last-minute rehearsing.

Zay: If it looks that great at 10% volume, I’m sure we’ll have no issues on Saturday.

Yindra: … well, I’m sure you wish it was you taking the diva opening. Since you’re the one working the hardest all the time.

Zay: Nah. If we’re aiming to secure an instant jaw-dropper, Maya couldn’t have chosen a better leading lady. Even if I were fit enough to be considered a contender right now.

Oh. Well that’s… nice. Yindra shifts focus to put her choreo sheets in her shoulder bag. Zay approaches and settles on top of a desktop to ease off his boot, taking the opportunity to guide the conversation.

Zay: Do you remember when we became friends?

Yindra, loftily: … was it when Miss Moore partnered us for duet assignments the second week of freshman year and promised a prize to the best breakout first duet, and we brought the house down with “Stand Up For Love,” but she chose Farkle and Maya instead?

Zay, amused: No. Though that was classic. [ a beat ] And maybe an eerie premonition about dear Angela.

Yindra: Anyone who chooses Anything Goes over the Destiny’s Child is deranged, so.

No arguments here. The moment of fellowship passes quickly, but it doesn’t feel like it’s gone for good... Yindra nods, still trying to maintain her aloof demeanor but allowing Zay to elaborate.

Zay: It was earlier than that, first week of class. No one really knew anyone, except like Haley and Clarissa since they met over the summer or whatever. So it kind of felt like every day was coming into battle alone. Anyway, Maya was giving her first -- of many, many -- psychotic mini-monologues before a performance, and this one was especially cracked. Probably because she was trying to establish her bitchutation.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - FLASHBACK - DAY

Though it’s brief, we catch a glimpse of what the world was like all those years ago. The A class -- or those that we can see -- are styled to look how they might’ve that first year, awkward and definitely poorly dressed compared to now. Freshman year is so hard. A slightly frazzled ANGELA MOORE attempts to maintain order, but clearly the A class of 2021 is already proving to be a… unique challenge.

True to Zay’s word, most of them are sitting on their own, though there are clusters where it seems friendship has already sprouted. An even shyer Charlie is sitting behind Clarissa and Haley, who keeps glancing over her shoulder to smile at him and then giggling nervously. Dylan, Dave, and Nate are whispering and passing notes mischievously -- Dylan with his embarrassing glasses and Bieber cut -- while Asher watches him wistfully from a couple desks away where he’s sitting with Jade. Farkle is in his blazer and semi-bowl cut and shooting daggers into Maya who is loudmouthing up at the front; Lucas is nowhere to be seen.

Zay is seated amidst it all, but distinctly on his own. He’s probably dressed better than most of his peers even then, and his hair is different than he wears it now, but even someone as cool as him can’t shake the quintessential freshman awkwardness. Presently, he’s scowling as Maya talks, clearly unimpressed.

Zay, voiceover: Now, I admit, I was making a bit of a stank face. I mean, it was Maya. But I remember I glanced around to see if everyone else was hearing this nonsense --

Freshman Zay does just that, freezing and reigning in his distaste when he spots Yindra. Her hair is different as well, and she’s not clothed as fashionably as she is these days. But she’s glancing towards Zay, too, and he doesn’t want to seem like a bitch. However…

Zay, voiceover: And you were making the exact same face.

For a second, freshman Yindra and Zay just stare at each other, caught. Then, Yindra cracks a smile, conspiratorial and a touch embarrassed. Zay immediately returns it, the two of them sharing a silent laugh across the room.

Zay, voiceover: That was when it clicked for me. I don’t think I even knew your name yet, but it felt like we’d been friends for years. Kindred spirits.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Back in the present, Zay finishes recounting the memory, light smile on his face as he looks at her. She’s listening but avoiding his eyes, fiddling with the strap of her bag.

Zay: And I was right. I think that’s probably the only thing I was right about from freshman year. [ slipping off the desk ] You and I are one in the same. That’s why we’re best friends. We have impeccable taste. We always bring it. We work our asses off. [ a beat ] We find it really hard to admit when we’re wrong… or when we’ve been stung.

True enough. Yindra clears her throat, tentatively meeting his eyes.

Zay: I’m sorry I was such a bitch. And I’m especially sorry that I made you think, even for a second, that you’re not good enough. That you’re not on my level or whatever bullshit I was selling this semester. It’s not true. You are the only person who is always on my level. Bar none.

Yindra: … well, you’re certainly not the only one good at being a little bitch…

Zay: No, but I get why you did it. Honestly, if the roles were reversed, I probably would’ve done the same to you. Like I said, one in the same. [ a beat ] And I hope you’ll forgive me and we can go back to the whole kindred spirit thing, because I really don’t want to miss the boat when you’re wildly successful in L.A. and inevitably lift me up with you. Just strategic thinking.

This, finally, really breaks the ice. Yindra can’t help but smile, shaking her head.

Yindra: You are so dramatic.

And then she’s hugging him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Zay returns it, relieved, and the universe tilts one degree closer to being back in order.

They pull apart, Yindra scrunching her face fondly and lightly patting his cheek. She reaches over to grab her bag and slings it over her shoulder, linking her arm through his as they slowly walk towards the door.

Zay: I’m serious about the career thing. Maybe we should tag team. Maybe we should go full Destiny’s Child.

Yindra: Ooh… [ tapping her chin ] But who’s gonna be our third…

Zay: Nigel?

Yindra: … well, we can always hold open auditions.

Zay laughs, the two of them disappearing into the hallway.

INT. TOPANGA’S CAR - MOVING - DAY

Riley is in the passenger seat of Topanga’s car, focused on a text thread where the A class is recapping any last-minute notes and thoughts for prep tomorrow. She types a quick response apologizing for not being there that afternoon and highlighting how hard everyone has worked. In her other hand, she’s clutching a prescription slip on her lap.

TOPANGA LAWRENCE comments that it’s good they arranged this doctor appointment for today -- she is so incredibly snowed under with work at the firm, it’s lucky she was able to drive Riley out today. As if Riley doesn’t know a thing or two about being swamped these days… still, her mother is in good spirits.

Topanga: I’m glad to hear everything seems to be in good shape, though. And smart of you to get this physical done in a timely manner -- your dad is such a disaster when it comes to keeping up with appointments. [ with a smile ] I must’ve raised you well.

Riley manages to return the smile, ignoring the comment about Cory. At this point, those are so natural to conversations with Topanga, it’s like white noise. Topanga casts a sideways glance at the prescription she has, knowing smirk ghosting over her lips.

Topanga: Though I think considering what you came to get, the reason you asked if I would take you is fairly obvious…

Riley awkwardly shifts her fingers on the slip, allowing us to get a better look at what she’s being prescribed for the first time. Birth control. She puts her phone in her pocket and absentmindedly fiddles with the braid on her shoulder.

Riley: I did think you were the much smarter option for help in this matter, yes.

Topanga: No doubt about that. You should spare Cory the knowledge of this little development as long as you possibly can. For his own good.

Yeah, Riley doesn’t seem to disagree on that. Although it’s just another one-up against Cory, they do exchange a small humorous smile, like a new inside joke they share.

Riley: Thanks for coming with me.

Topanga: Of course. [ a beat ] So… you and Lucas must be getting pretty serious, then.

Riley’s expression shifts into something softer. She looks out the window, unable to look at her mother as she contemplates it. Not because she’s embarrassed, but because something about Lucas and what they have is sacred. He’s something she doesn’t want -- or have to -- share with anybody else.

Still, thinking of him naturally elicits a delicate smile.

Riley: Yeah. Yeah, we are.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Lucas is packing up, stuffing things into his backpack. He takes care to handle the showcase binder gently, not wanting to do anything or lose anything that might throw them back into the pits of hopelessness.

But something does fall out anyway, dropping to the floor at his feet. He curses under his breath and slips the binder into his bag, crouching down to recover whatever escaped.

Money. A few crisp hundred dollar bills, folded neatly together. Lucas knows he’s not just carrying that kind of money around, and it’s clear that it was slipped into his things with careful intent. It’s no mystery where it came from.

But that also means someone was rooting through his stuff, once again intruding his sanctuary without permission. Lucas scowls, crumpling up the bills in his fist as he climbs back to his feet.

Missy, pre-lap: No, no, it’s supposed to be that side of the stage. Do you all have directional dyslexia?

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

MISSY BRADFORD is standing on the stage, directing a bunch of the underclassmen techies to move some final set piece adjustments. But they’re young and still learning, which she clearly doesn’t have the patience for. She shakes her head, unimpressed, while behind her we can see Lucas jogging down from the booth.

Missy: I swear, they just don’t make help like they used to…

Lucas: Hey!

Missy swivels around, expression brightening in interest when she sees who’s snapping at her. She saunters over to the edge of the stage as the younger techies disperse, leaving them alone.

Missy: Just the person I wanted to talk to. I finally got those panels for the rolling flats. Normally it shouldn’t take this long, especially considering how much I paid, but when it’s a rush job --

Lucas: What makes you think you can go through my shit?

Lucas’s tone is harsh, more scathing than the usual dry sarcasm he employs with her. But it doesn’t intimidate Missy much -- in fact, if anything, it just seems to intrigue her more. She raises her eyebrows as he reaches the front of the house, now standing essentially below her.

Lucas: And the booth. I told you you can’t just go waltzing in there whenever the fuck you want. To do whatever the fuck you want --

He tosses the crumpled bills at her feet on the stage, glaring up at her derisively. She shrugs coolly, clasping her hands together.

Missy: As far as I understand it, actually, the booth is available to all students for use. So I have every right to it just as much as you do.

Lucas clenches his jaw, obviously wanting to bite back, but in this case he has no argument. Technically, technically, she’s right. Even if every other student silently respects the unspoken rule that the booth is his, there’s nothing he can use against someone who doesn’t. His anger is palpable when he speaks again, voice low.

Lucas: This thing, whatever it is? It’s done. It has to stop.

Missy, innocently: “Thing?” I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about --

Lucas: Yes, you do. Cut the bullshit. Whatever game you’re playing, or… dance you think you’re doing, you’re doing it on your own. I’m done with it.

Bold words. And obviously not something Missy would want to hear… though for what it’s worth, she seems unfazed by his declaration. She maintains her confident nonchalance, examining him for a long moment… then holds her hands up in surrender.

Missy: Okay. I never meant to upset you, Lucas. I was just trying to help. [ a beat ] But if you’re really not into it anymore, you can always… give the money back.

Oh. Well… that’s not so simple. Lucas opens his mouth as if he’s going to respond, but nothing comes out. Some of the fire he marched down here with burns out, leaving him uncertain. And Missy sure notices, her sweetness sharpening into coy smugness. She tilts her head.

Missy: But you’re not going to do that. Are you?

She casually extends her designer shoe to kick at one of the discarded bills, threatening to send it down the thin gap between the orchestra pit and the floor. But Lucas reaches out to save it just in time, hastily catching it before it’s lost forever.

Got ‘em. She’s spotted Lucas’s brazen dismissal for exactly what it is -- a bluff.

And he’s clearly ashamed of it, how easily he caved, when the thing he needs so desperately is dangled in front of his face. Missy gives him a sympathetic look, but it’s closer to pity than empathy. It’s so hard to tell what is real from her, how much she actually sees Lucas as a human being versus an attractive puzzle for her to toy with.

But in this moment, she’s won, so she’s feeling charitable. She primly lowers herself down to sit on the stage across from him, crossing her legs and picking up the other wrinkled bills. She spreads them on her lap and smooths them as she talks, restoring them to pristine condition.

Missy: I thought we already discussed this. We’re on the same page about our little dynamic. And it’ll all be worth it, won’t it, when you get what you want… [ eyeing him ] if you truly care so much about UC Davis.

Lucas: There are things I care about more. [ a beat, then softer ] Things I don’t want to mess up.

Although he doesn’t say it, it’s fairly obvious what he’s thinking about. Missy’s not an idiot, and she knows where he stands with Riley. But he’s been willing to play along this long… and given her lack of context and history and how brusque Lucas tends to be around others, it’s unlikely Missy considers Riley much of an issue. But if he wants to continue the game…

Missy: And that’s why it’s a private affair. Hush-hush, just between you and me. There’s no guilt in what people don’t know. And besides, do you want to welcome all the additional trouble you’ll have to contend with if I don’t contribute? I think you’ve already got enough on your plate.

She finishes flattening the bills, placing them gingerly on the edge of the stage next to her. Ready to be his again, should he deem to take them. All of the rage that drove him to confront her has been extinguished, replaced with that cold, cornered feeling he always has when she’s there.

Missy: Focus on the big problems, Lucas. Showdown, your scholarship plans. And once that’s all squared away and the dust has settled… then we can explore what comes next. [ slipping off the stage ] One step at a time.

She passes him without another glance, making her way up the aisles and leaving him on that note. He starts to glance over his shoulder but ultimately doesn’t, not even wanting to look at her anymore. He looks a little sick.

But the money remains, waiting for him. No Missy there to scrutinize him as he takes it, no judgment being cast down on him but his own. He knows his truth. He knows what he cares about, what matters above all else. And money is money… he’s always known that… doesn’t matter where, or who, it comes from…

Lucas hangs stuck in that moment, torn between shame and sense.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - NIGHT

Long after the final bell of the day has rung, Isadora remains in the dance studio, going over the routine again. It’s usually Zay’s territory at this time of night, but instead of his perfected moves and graceful poise, Isadora is following the steps in almost a robotic manner, and cursing at herself whenever she makes a mistake.

Chai peeks her head around the door, having been practicing herself in another studio and wondering who’s still here. She watches Isadora struggle for a moment before stepping in and pressing pause on the music. Isadora looks over to her in shock.

Chai: Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. What are you still doing here?

Isadora: What does it look like? Failing miserably at the routine.

Chai sighs in sympathy and shrugs off her sports duffel so that she can help Isadora. Isadora cringes as Chai does a couple of stretches to warm herself up again.

Isadora: I feel bad. You already spent so long trying to help me and here I am the night before the showcase, as terrible as ever.

Chai: You’re too hard on yourself. Everyone’s been struggling with the choreo since it changed in such short notice, and for a non-dancer you’re doing well. You remember all the steps, you just need to do them more gracefully.

Chai demonstrates one of the moves that Isadora was trying to do a moment earlier, but when Isadora copies, she doesn’t have the same natural rhythm and movement that Chai does. Chai tries coaching her through it, giving her instructions to twist a bit more, or move her arm like this and that, but it only makes Isadora more frustrated.

Isadora: We’ve been trying this for days. It isn’t going to work. I’m a lost cause.

Chai: Nobody is a lost cause. We just have to try something new.

Chai tells Isadora to do the routine again, and starts the music. She walks around Isadora as she dances, scrutinizing every move. At one point when Isadora seems particularly robotic in her movements, Chai reaches out to correct her position on instinct. She freezes when she realizes it might not want to be touched, hands hovering over Isadora’s hips. Isadora looks down at Chai’s hands and halts.

Chai, shyly: Is this… okay?

Isadora gives a tentative nod. Chai rests her hands lightly on Isadora, and guides her through the movements. Both are quiet and a little tense, an odd tension in the air, but it isn’t uncomfortable.

As they get used to it, they relax and Isadora’s dancing becomes more natural. Once Chai thinks that she’s got it, she takes a step back and lets her hands drift away. She requests Isadora go through it again. This time, Isadora’s moves flow much better and she looks less awkward. Chai smiles brightly.

Chai: You got it!

Isadora: Really?

Chai: Yeah, it’s looking good. Really good. Let's do it again.

Chai steps in line with Isadora, and they start the routine from scratch. That odd tension is still there, but it feels more like tentative excitement than anything else. They glance at each other as they step through moves in the routine, exchanging a smile before spinning in opposite directions.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

The Haverford boys are wrapping up their last evening rehearsal before Saturday, all of them sweaty and exhausted. Even if they’re got an unfair advantage, they’re not going to skate on it.

What is interesting is that Charlie is nowhere to be seen. Everyone else is accounted for except him, and his absence is noticeable -- particularly on the eve of showdown. Brandon runs through final notes and reminders, then relaxes just a fraction to rally his boys and assure them that victory is all but guaranteed. All there is left to do is go out there and do the damn thing.

Hurrah! The Havies come together as Billy leads a rallying cheer, demonstrating that iron-clad brotherhood once again. They do a final hoot and cheer and disband just as Charlie appears in the wings, hanging back to let them have their moment.

As his classmates pass him, their reception towards him is mixed -- some are casual and friendly, as if nothing is out of the ordinary, while others shoot him dirty looks for his blatant skipping of rehearsal. Billy makes a point of bumping him with his shoulder.

Billy: Way to show up, C.

Charlie takes it all in stride, swallowing his nerves and not reacting. He waits until the rest of the class has cleared out, hovering on the sidelines until there’s nothing left for Brandon to do but address him.

Brandon: I’m assuming, since you deemed to grace me with your presence now, that you have a good reason for missing our last rehearsal before showdown.

There’s his cue. Charlie nods, stepping out of the shadows and joining him on the stage.

Charlie: I’m sorry about that. Just… a personal emergency.

Brandon, unimpressed: It doesn’t reflect well on you, Charles. I admit, I thought you were more reliable than that. [ off his sheepish expression ] But it’s fine, we all have off days. Thankfully we were able to work around you.

Charlie: That’s good. I’m glad to hear it. [ a beat ] If you’ve already figured that out, then you’ll be able to do it without me on Saturday.

Now that, Brandon wasn’t expecting. His eyebrows shoot up. Charlie holds his ground, trying not to wither under his stare and keep his voice even and resolute.

Charlie: Believe me, it’s not my ideal outcome, and I really don’t want to let the team down. You guys have been good to me, really taken me under your wing, and I needed that when I first got here. I don’t want to screw that up.

Brandon: But?

Charlie: But I don’t think I can get up there and compete against Adams. You and the boys deserve to have everyone on the same page, one hundred percent dedicated and focused on the win. And as much as I want to be a part of that, I know in my heart I won’t be able to deliver.

Brandon remains skillfully unreadable, simply listening without giving any of his reactions away. Charlie clears his throat.

Charlie: I like being at Haverford. I like being part of the brotherhood. But part of me will always be with Adams. Those people… they’re my family. And I can’t go against family. [ a beat ] You get that, right?

Considering his commitment to the brotherhood, you’d think he would. Brandon contemplates for a long moment, leaving Charlie nervous and vulnerable in the encroaching silence… one that grows more painful the longer it ticks on...

Then he smiles, suave and unbothered like always.

Brandon: Sure, Charles. I understand completely.

Charlie exhales, managing a relieved smile. He thanks Brandon for being so cool about it, and assures him that he’ll still be there on Saturday to support everyone. But this already feels so much better. He thanks Brandon one more time and then heads out, wishing him luck for the whole team as he goes.

Brandon upholds his pleasant smile until Charlie is gone, granting him an easy wave as he steps out the door. But once he’s out of sight, the charm dissipates. His expression sours, the barbed edges bleeding through his smooth demeanor.

Announcer, pre-lap: Ladies and gentlemen, we’re in for a face-off for the ages!

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - LOBBY - DAY

Saturday. The day of senior showdown. The energy is electric as we move through the elegant space, the same arts and cultural center where the Jacobs Gala was held in 112. It’s grandiose and professional-grade, a sense of the big leagues if there ever was one. It’s like one step below an actual Broadway stage -- think the Dolby Theatre Oscars vibes, or the Kennedy Center.

The place is already buzzing with life, venue officials rushing to and fro to keep things organized and groups from different schools wandering and congregating. Adams and Haverford are only one showdown of many this afternoon, as the announcers explain over the scenery that senior showdown is an annual event that encompasses multiple forms of competitive art and multiple delegations of the cream of the crop. Manhattan is only a piece of the program today -- though admittedly, it’s one of the most anticipated segments of the day.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The announcers say as much, describing that the orchestra showdowns will kick us off, followed by show choir, dance troupe, and a couple of other categories. And then by this afternoon, we’ll dive into the highly awaited performance showdowns, including the two Manhattan elites: Adams Academy for the Arts versus their long-time rivals and reigning six-year champs, Haverford Preparatory Academy. As they wrap up their opening spiel, we get a look at the fancy stage digs they’ll be working with, already filling up with spectators.

What a way to fund the arts. It’s time to showdown!

EXT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

Well, not quite yet time. The A class still has time to spare, and things are much quieter over in the East Village.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - LUCAS’S BEDROOM - DAY

Which is where we find Riley and Lucas, picking up a couple of items for showdown that Lucas had been storing for safe-keeping. His shoebox bedroom is remarkably neater than we’ve seen it in the past, all that spring cleaning from last year having paid off. It’s at least decent enough that he’s allowing Riley to be in it -- though the reasoning for that is more likely the lack of a certain someone or something.

Either way, they’re not staying long. Lucas hands the materials to Riley and they head out, discussing how long they think it’ll take to get uptown. Traffic is pretty dastardly today, apparently, especially around the venue.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

They duck out of Lucas’s room and he shuts the door behind him. He tells Riley to give him one second while he grabs one more thing from the closet, jogging out of sight down the tiny hallway. She says no worries, perfectly content to wait on her own and take in every last detail of his home given how rarely she’s allowed inside to see it.

When suddenly the door opens in the entryway. Riley freezes, staring towards the doorway. She braces herself for the worst, completely unsure what might happen or what she should do if he shows up. Worried about what might happen to Lucas…

But it’s not the worst. It’s only GRACE FRIAR, who mirrors Riley’s surprise as she enters the living area and finds her unexpectedly parked in her apartment. She’s dressed for work at the florist, dressed in a worn but pretty floral dress and an evergreen apron, light hair pulled back out of her face.

Riley, uncertainly: Hi.

Lucas reappears in the next instant, having rushed back when he heard the noise. He’s relieved to find it’s only his mother, but barely. He quickly comes to stand at Riley’s side, evidently nervous at this turn of events. It was never part of his plan.

Lucas: Mom. What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t going to be home.

Grace, timid: I swapped shifts with another employee. Since Kenneth is in Jersey for the game, I thought I’d try and see if I could free up my afternoon to see your showdown performance today. [ glancing at Riley ] And I guess I got lucky.

Oh. That’s nice. Lucas wasn’t expecting it, uncertain what to say next. He only figures it out when he realizes how intently Riley and Grace are looking at each other, both fascinated and curious and definitely a bit nervous. He clears his throat, awkwardly scratching his neck.

Lucas: Um, this is Riley. Riley, this is my mom.

Very informative, Lucas. But that’s all Riley needs, and with permission to interact, her bubbly charm does the rest. She steps forward, holding out a hand and offering a sincere smile.

Riley: Hi again. It’s so nice to finally meet you.

Grace: [ accepting her handshake ] Likewise. Unexpected, though… I suppose the best things in life are.

She chuckles anxiously, and Riley does her the favor of laughing along with her. So skilled at making others feel comfortable, like that’s just naturally how she operates.

Grace: I’m sorry I’m so unprepared. If I had known I would’ve… cleaned up, or had something ready to…

Riley: Oh, please, no. Don’t worry about it. I’m the one intruding on you.

Lucas: And we’re just passing through. Picking up a couple things. [ pointedly ] And we should go if we want to beat the traffic --

Grace: Right. Right, of course. Don’t let me get in your way.

Grace quickly steps to the side, an expert at making herself smaller. She skirts around them and gives them easy access to the entryway and a swift exit, wishing both of them luck with showdown. Hopefully she’ll be able to make it down there.

Riley, enthusiastically: You definitely should. It’s going to be an amazing show. And our competition is notoriously tough to beat, so they should at least be enjoyable.

With a pitch like that, how could she say no? Riley should do marketing for the showdown committee. And she could probably find generous ways to keep the conversation going for hours, but Lucas is keen to expedite this escape and gently nudges her towards the door. She gifts Grace one more goodbye before they depart.

Although she wasn’t prepared for it, Grace seems happy with the introduction. A light smile lingers on her face.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - DAY

DONNA BABINEAUX pulls open the front door, finding Nigel and Yindra on the doorstep. Yindra already has her hair and make-up done, looking stellar, and Nigel’s hair is brushed up out of his face. Donna seems unsurprised to see them, stepping back and knowingly nodding towards the stairs.

Donna: He’s in his room. Good luck.

Nigel and Yindra exchange a look.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Zay is far from ready to roll, still wrapped up in his blankets and hunkered down to wallow. His boot rests on the floor at the foot of his bed.

He’s looking at videos on his phone, mainly of the days when he could dance. The semis routine, clips from rehearsals pre-injury, ones he recorded that he ended up using for his applications. Today is the day he’s supposed to be doing all of it, helping elevate Adams to victory.

And that’s not the only thing interspersed throughout his library as he flicks through files. There are videos of him with his friends, too, and the ones he always hovers on longer are the ones of Charlie. Ones that are now almost a year old, like them rehearsing in their usual studio together, goofing off, or where he didn’t even realize Zay was filming. The one he hesitates on longer than the rest involves Charlie laying where he is right now, bashful and uncontrollably giggling while Zay picks on him from off-screen.

It’s all mixed together, all haunting him in different ways, but it doesn’t set him off anymore. There’s no more aggressive fuel compensating for the loss, so now it simply aches. Crazy, how much has changed in so little time… how he has no idea how much of it will change back or inevitably shift again from underneath him…

Yindra and Nigel swing open his door, startling him. He quickly locks his phone and grumbles at them as to what the hell they’re doing.

Zay: Why are you here? You can’t be all the way in Queens when you should be at the venue already.

Yindra: We know. It’s a calculated risk.

Nigel: But if we should be there, we could say the same to you.

Zay huffs, tossing his phone onto the covers and sinking deeper into his bed. They must have miscalculated, because they’re wasting precious time. He’s not performing, so he has no reason to be there like them. He’s not going.

They thought he might say that -- and they’re not taking no for an answer. Not now, on a day that means everything. In a surprisingly feisty move, Nigel leans forward and rips the blankets off him.

Nigel: Get up.

Zay: Yo, what the hell --

Yindra: Damn, Nige.

Zay: What’s your deal? Did you not hear me? There is no reason for me to go. I can’t perform, and sitting there watching what I can’t do doesn’t sound like an exciting afternoon for me. I have nothing to contribute, so why should I bother?

Nigel: Bullshit.

Yindra: Damn, Nige.

Nigel: That’s bullshit, Zay! You know it is. You have contributed plenty to our setlist -- you choreographed an entirely new routine in a week!

Yindra: True.

Nigel: We never would’ve been able to pull that off without you. And we still won’t if you’re not there, because I’m more than positive some of us are going to need refreshers right up until we get on that stage. You know, since again, we picked it up in a week.

Yindra: Also true.

Nigel: And even if that weren’t the case, it shouldn’t matter anyway. You should want to be there because this is it, man. We have worked our butts off for three years to get to this point. And I agree, it sucks that you can’t be up there on dancing it out with us -- you know I think that. But that doesn’t mean you should forgo it all and crawl under a rock to wait it out. This is one of those experiences we’re going to remember forever, and I know you. You don’t want to be the person who missed it all and can’t share in the memories because he didn’t even try. Even if you can’t be on stage yourself, you should want to show up for the rest of us. For Riley, for Yindra. For me. I think you want to, underneath your pride and your self-pity. [ a beat ] And deep down, I think you know that if you tap out and skip it, you’re going to regret it forever.

Wow. It would be a good argument on its own, but since it’s coming from an impassioned Nigel, it’s especially compelling. Yindra stares at her usually laid back, non-confrontational best friend, jaw hanging open slightly.

Yindra, hushed: Damn, Nigel! Where has this been for the last three years?

Yindra shifts her wide eyes to Zay. You’re seeing this too, right? But Nigel doesn’t break, holding Zay’s gaze and continuing the encouragement with his classic Shakespearean smolder.

Finally, Zay relents. He pushes himself forward to the edge of the bed and asks them to hand him his boot, and for Yindra to grab something from his closet for him to throw on. They’re going to have to move fast if they want to get there on time.

Zay: [ as Yindra dashes to his closet ] Pick something fresh!

Yindra, off-screen: You insult me!

Nigel hands him his boot, Zay taking it gratefully. He meets his eyes again.

Zay: Thanks for not leaving me behind.

Nigel, sincere: “To me, fair friend, you never can be old.”

Okay, Bard nerd. But it’s sweet, and the sentiment obviously means a lot to Zay.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - LOBBY - DAY

Eric and Isadora arrive together, the latter in a rush to get backstage. She thanks Eric for driving and promises she’ll see him after the show, and he shouts a good luck after her in return.

Once he’s alone, he scans the room and all the well-dressed patrons mixing and mingling. An usher offers him a program and he takes it cheerfully, but he finally spots who he’s looking for before he can read it.

JACK HUNTER. It’s like he hasn’t been able to find him all week — and this seems like the kind of time where you want your principal to be around. He’s conversing with EVELYN RAND, charming and professional as always.

Eric heads over to join them, friendly but keeping that healthy distance between them after their discussion last week. Evelyn brightens when she sees him approaching, giving him a jolly hello and stating she better be off. Performances to see! But she is wishing the best of luck to them and the delegation from Adams.

Evelyn departs, leaving the two of them alone. They exchange warm greetings, though it’s muted from Jack. They mention all of the stuff they heard about the scramble the A class went through from Lucas and Isadora, noting the stacked odds.

Eric: Well, all we can hope is that they managed to pull it together. They’ve done it before -- I believe they’ll do it again.

Jack: Yeah… yes, me too.

But given his own stacked odds at the moment, Jack’s belief doesn’t seem wholly convincing. Eric clocks his apprehension, the way he feels like a shade of his former self. He steps a little closer, dropping his voice to a murmur.

Eric: Things will work out, Jack. You don’t have to disappear from the equation for things to work out.

Jack doesn’t seem convinced. Eric frowns. He starts to say more, but Jack’s eye has caught HARRISON YANCY across the room, mingling with JEFFERSON DAVIS GRAHAM and other prominent school board members. They cast a glance in his direction, unreadable, holding too much power in their hands.

Jack clears his throat, creating more distance between him and Eric as he starts to retreat.

Jack: Should head on in. I believe Harper saved us a seat. Wouldn’t want to miss our competition’s performance.

Eric glances over his shoulder where Jack was looking, spotting the crowd of conservative board hawks. He scowls, starting to comment, but when he turns back around Jack is already gone.

INT. RILEY’S CAR - DAY

Lucas and Riley arrive around the same time, pulling into a parking spot and killing the engine. Lucas is behind the wheel today, and from how quiet the car is it seems there wasn’t much chatter on the drive over. The two of them sit in the silence for a moment, Riley searching for a way to broach the subject.

Riley: … your mom seems really nice. It’s cool that she wants to come to showdown. You know, maybe we should’ve offered her a ride…

Lucas, quickly: I’m sorry about how I acted. That I like, rushed you out of there.

Riley: It’s okay. I figured it caught everyone by surprise.

Lucas: It’s not that I don’t want you to meet her. Or don’t want her to meet you. I’m not trying to hide you or anything. [ scoffing ] Honestly, if there’s anything in my life worth showing off, I know full well what it is. And it’s not like I think she wouldn’t like you -- I mean, it’s impossible not to.

Riley smiles, bashful. He’s still nervous, keeping his eyes on the keys rather than her, but he pushes through the vulnerability anyway. Really trying.

Lucas: It’s just that… things with them… me and my parents, it’s not… it’s weird. They’ve never -- my mom, she doesn’t even really feel like… it’s more like we’re… I don’t know, roommates rather than blood. Prisonmates, sometimes. [ chuckling awkwardly, then frowning; he just can’t say anything right ] It’s not that I don’t… I know she cares about me. In her way. I just didn’t… it’s hard to explain. It’s all kinda fucked up, and I didn’t want to get you all… tangled into it. [ a beat ] But I don’t want you thinking it’s because of you, because it’s not.

He said more than enough. Riley reaches across the console and gently touches his cheek, waiting for him to meet her eyes.

Riley: It’s okay. I understand. But thank you for telling me.

Lucas nods. She turns the light touch into a caress, stroking her thumb against his cheekbone. He closes his eyes and leans into the gesture.

Riley: She really did seem lovely. Pretty, and super sweet. [ fondly ] I see her in you.

It’s possible no one has ever said that to Lucas before. He processes the compliment, letting it sink in, then manages a shy smile. He takes her hand in his own, pressing a soft kiss to her palm and then linking their fingers together.

They soak in the peace, the kind they can always rely on to find with each other… and they’re going to need it, because it won’t last long inside that venue…

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Case in point, backstage it’s a circus as performers scramble to get ready. Isadora is marching through the chaos, back in stage manager mode, trying to account for everybody and figure out what fires are still left to be put out. One of which would be the fact that so many people from their team still aren’t here -- Nigel and Yindra; Jade with the costumes; Farkle; Riley and Lucas.

She shouts amidst the group if anyone has seen any of them. Darby stops mid-jog to the girls dressing room.

Darby: Farkle is already here, I saw him. We were a couple of the first to arrive.

Isadora: And where is he now?

Darby: No idea. But he’s around here somewhere!

Isadora: Perfect. That’s so helpful. Absolutely enlightening information!

Isadora whips around just as Riley and Lucas make their way into the hall. She exhales a dramatic sigh, complimenting them sarcastically for finally making it. At least somebody can roll up when they’re needed. The two of them exchange a yikes look, scooting around Isadora carefully so as not to detonate her further.

Isadora: And where the hell are Nigel and Yindra?!

INT. NIGEL’S CAR - MOVING - DAY

Nigel and Yindra are en route, but “moving” might be a misleading slugline. They’re stuck in that bumper-to-bumper traffic Riley and Lucas were discussing, tensions high as they race to make it to the venue.

Yindra: This is going to give me high blood pressure! Can’t you go any faster, Nigel?

Nigel: GO? GO WHERE, YINDRA? I CAN’T GO FASTER WHEN WE’RE STOPPED.

Zay leans forward between them from the middle backseat, breaking into their bickering to inform them of updates from Riley. They’re transitioning into the performing arts section of the program, which means the clock is ticking down by the second. Yindra and Nigel continue to bicker, volume rising under the stress, until Zay finally smacks Nigel’s shoulder to get his attention.

Nigel: WHAT?

Zay: GREEN LIGHT. CARS MOVING.

Yindra: GO! GO! GO!

Nigel: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH --

Nigel hits the gas, and they’re moving once again --

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - BACKSTAGE - DAY

Riley is concealed in the shadows of the wings, watching nervously as another school from a different league showdown completes their routine. Based on the music playing, they’re going for a more classical repertoire, but Riley seems grateful they don’t have even more competition to be worried about than just Haverford.

She leans forward just enough to peer through the curtain, still hidden but able to glimpse the grand house beyond the stage. It seems like a pretty packed audience, and somewhere out there are the judges who will decide their fate. Their standing against Haverford, the future of Lucas’s scholarship initiative, the spirit of her class… the weight of all the above resting on her shoulders and creating the subtle frown on her face.

Brandon: Nice accommodations, aren’t they?

Riley spins and comes face to face with Brandon. He’s already dressed in his performance attire -- no longer quite as glossy and more refined to contrast AAA’s original shiny style -- but he’s taken the time to double check that everything is right where it needs to be for their setlist… and apparently, to run into her.

Brandon: I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of formally meeting yet, Riley. [ offering a hand ] Brandon Rivas.

She’s not eager to change that, but Riley is socially savvy. She knows how to play things right, so she mirrors his pleasant smile and accepts the handshake.

Riley: Oh, I’ve heard all about you. But I’m sure you already know that.

Brandon: Guilty as charged. There’s not much I don’t know. But it would be hard for me not to know you, considering how often Charles has talked about you. He speaks highly of you, rest assured.

Riley: That I believe. Charlie is a good friend. I wouldn’t expect any less from him.

Brandon: Yes… he is, isn’t he.

They exchange a couple more small talk niceties, including Riley mentioning that she’s heard they were quite impressive at semis. Both of them have their work cut out for them, facing each other. Brandon shrugs humbly, then claims he should go gather the boys. The team on stage is wrapping up, and then they’ve only got 10 minutes to show. But he’s pleased they had the chance to meet.

Brandon: Good to confer leader to leader -- makes for good sportsmanship. I know there are power structures in place at Adams, but to my understanding, it’s you who pulls the strings across the park. The true brains of the operation.

Well, if we’re aiming for good sportsmanship, the Havies are already laps behind. And Riley clearly doesn’t like his tone, what he’s subtly implying about her friends -- including and especially her boyfriend.

But she doesn’t show it, merely sharpening her smile instead.

Riley: I wouldn’t underestimate any of my cohort.

Tell him, Riles! Brandon starts to back off, easing further into the shadows.

Brandon: Break a leg -- though you probably can’t afford many more of those, can you?

Oh, shots are being fired. Riley’s expression twitches, but she doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. She releases a pointed exhale once he’s gone, the audience launching into applause behind her indicating that the time to bring it is in fact inching closer and closer…

EXT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - ROOFTOP - DAY

The exterior of the venue is less glamorous but just as stunning as the interior. A beautiful rooftop terrace acts as a place for guests to mingle during intermissions or events, similar to the outer walkways of the Kennedy Center. It provides a gorgeous view of the city stretched out around them, the sky a hazy periwinkle on this chilly early December afternoon.

Farkle seems to be enjoying the cold, though. He’s perched on a bench looking out towards the south of the island, just glimpsing the peak of his building in the financial district. He closes his eyes and inhales deep, absorbing the cold air and letting it cool his nerves. He’s hiding his costume under his coat, but we can see the beginnings of what the aesthetic might be given the stardust-like eyeshadow and eyeliner he’s sporting.

His momentary peace is destroyed when Isadora slams open the door and stomps towards him, hands on hips.

Isadora: There you are! Do you know how stressed I am already attempting to manage everyone before this absolutely convoluted last-minute showdown showcase without you deciding to disappear off the face of the earth? Why the hell are you out here?

A couple of other patrons stare at them, then awkwardly retreat towards the other side of the roof. Theater kids. Farkle glances around them to see if anyone else reacted, then mutters a halfhearted apology. Isadora sighs, unimpressed, but shifts her demeanor to be less threatening (or at least, she tries).

Isadora: What’s going on with you? You haven’t been in your right mind recently and I’m starting to worry.

Farkle, dryly: Do I even have a right mind to be in?

Isadora: I’m assuming that’s rhetorical, so I won’t respond. Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it.

Farkle: Nothing you can do. Or anybody. I’m cursed. This is just something I have to deal with on my own.

Isadora scoffs and rolls her eyes.

Isadora: You’re being such a little bitch right now.

Farkle, surprised: Excuse me?

Isadora: You’ve been spaced out for days, you drop out of the showcase, you hide yourself away from everybody. Fine, do what you have to do. But at least tell me why. Don’t just sit there moaning like a crybaby about dealing with it by yourself. If you tell me, then you don’t have to do it alone. Simple.

Farkle: But there’s nothing you can do to help. Why bother you with my stuff when you’re so stressed already?

With a sigh, Isadora sits down next to him.

Isadora: You being all depressed and closed off is one of the main things stressing me out, for your information.

Farkle: [ relenting ] Fine. My therapist told me that I’m bipolar.

And there it is. Out in the open, even if Farkle looks extremely sulky while saying so. Isadora nods at the reveal, not all that surprised.

Isadora: That makes sense. It was one of the things I suspected you might have.

Farkle: One of?

Isadora: Oh, I had a whole list of possible diagnoses for you. How are you dealing with it? You don’t seem particularly happy about it.

No kidding. Farkle explains how he’s struggling to grapple with the diagnosis, and how it’s thrown his entire sense of identity into question. Isadora listens to him carefully, nodding along while she thinks.

Isadora: I get that. When my social worker first told me that she suspected I might be autistic, I hated it. I only knew about autism through Rain Man and Sheldon Cooper, so I wasn’t thrilled. I thought it meant that I was an antisocial freak who could never make friends. But as I learned more about it, the more I like… made sense to myself. It wasn’t just me against the world anymore -- there were other people out there like me, who understood me.

Farkle: I’ve been researching a lot, but that hasn’t helped.

Isadora: Have you joined any online communities? Read about it from an actual bipolar person’s perspective?

Farkle admits that he hasn’t, so Isadora suggests that he do that.

Isadora: I know that right now it’s scary -- like your entire world has changed and you no longer fit into it. But you’re still the same Farkle, and we’re still the same world. Nothing has changed except for a label; a label which will allow you to access resources that will actually help you.

Farkle: What helped you come to terms with your diagnosis?

Isadora: Lucas and Riley. I got diagnosed in middle school, and I didn’t really have any friends then. When I started at Triple A, I did a lot of research on how to cope in high school and make friends. It all felt way too forced and awkward, and I was so sure that I would never have any. That because of the way I was, I would also be an outcast. [ a beat as she remembers ] With Lucas, everything happened naturally. We just clicked, and started to spend almost all our time together.

Farkle, under his breath: Codependency...

Isadora: He made me realize that I could have friends, and that I was enough exactly as I am. Then, sophomore year, Riley came along. I had to make an effort to be friends with her, there was compromise and a lot of learning moments. She helped me whenever I was struggling and didn’t judge me for my mistakes. They both accepted and loved me wholly. [ looking to Farkle ] I accept and love you wholly, Farkle. And I will be here to help you figure it out, I promise.

As Isadora gives him a warm smile, Farkle seems unable to speak. His eyes are glossy, but shining with something else too as he looks at her. He swallows before thanking her.

She stands up and offers him a hand.

Isadora: Will you come downstairs and participate now?

Despite not needing to, Farkle takes Isadora’s hand to help pull him up. Isadora lets go as soon as he’s up, but he’ll take it. As the bouncy and energetic percussion of “Seize the Day” slowly grows louder from below…

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Haverford is running through the tail-end of their opening number, giving an excellent show already. Considering Brandon gifted Charlie the opportunity to take the solo in the first place, he steps back into it effortlessly, so it’s not as though they’re completely hobbled without him. Still, the dancing isn’t quite as precise, not exactly as compelling, and Brandon lacks his earnest spark that left such an impression the first time around.

But they’re not at all out of the race. They’re still intimidating competition to be up against, and they’re leaving nothing to chance. The applause is effusive as the lights dim and they wrap up the Newsies number, quickly rearranging formation to get ready for the next one.

This is when Charlie makes his entrance, quietly moving through the house and finding a couple free seats in the back center section. He settles into a spot just as Haverford is beginning their second, new number, the lights brightening again.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Sherry” as performed by Franki Valli & The Four Seasons || Performed by Haverford Seniors

Dweezil starts us off front and center, the rest of the boys standing in formation behind him as the jaunty, rhythmic orchestration kicks off. He takes the lead due to his impressive falsetto, and when he starts to step along in some simple movements to the beat, the boys layer in on the harmonies and echo his movements. It creates that same chilling, enchanting effect they showed us from their first performance in 301, the sensation of watching a machine in perfect sync.

And Brandon’s strategic adjustment of their setlist is on full display with their new choice. It’s indisputably classic, a callback to different times and classier days, which is a major deviation from AAA’s original contemporary setlist. The simple choreography allows them to emphasize their well-oiled machine feature, and the choice shows off their harmonies and vocal range just as much if not better than another pop hit from PRETTYMUCH.

It’s impossible not to tap your foot along, and without a doubt will butter up the older judges who feel rosy about that era. Say what you want about Brandon, but there’s no denying the man thinks of everything.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - PARKING GARAGE - DAY

Nigel, Yindra, and Zay finally arrive, wasting no time in hopping out of the car and booking it. Nigel freezes halfway around the front, eyes wide, while Zay scrambles to get out of the backseat with one good foot.

Nigel: Pass. I need a pass. Where do I get a pass?

Yindra: [ slamming the car door ] No time!

Nigel: I need a pass or I’m gonna get a ticket!

Yindra: THEN GET A TICKET.

Nigel lets out another exasperated yell, hoping for the best and starting to sprint after Yindra. Zay tries to hobble after them, but he’s not nearly fast enough.

Zay: Um, guys --

Nigel: Zay --

Zay: No, it’s fine. I’ll make it eventually. Go on without me. Save yourselves.

Nigel: I swear, damn Shakespearean tragedy in this trio --

Yindra glances between them, then back at Zay, conflicted. But she doesn’t want to leave him behind…

Yindra: Oh, for fuck’s sake.

EXT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DAY

The three of them emerge from the garage and make for the steps up to the main entrance, Yindra now carrying Zay piggyback style while Nigel takes the lead. He makes it to the top of the steps, shouting for them to hurry up.

Yindra: Excuse me, you’re not the one carrying another person! No, I had to because of your frail vegetarian bones!

Nigel: Vegetarianism has nothing to do with your bones, in fact studies show it improves --

Yindra/Zay: NOT NOW.

Zay: Go, go, go!

Nigel holds open the door for them to zoom past, diving in after them.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM - DAY

The A class has assembled in the dressing room together while the Havies finish their set. They’re mostly all dressed up and ready to go, though it’s obvious elements of their costumes are missing.

The girls are dressed in shimmery leotards with intricate detailing on the bodices, alternating in either silver or gold, and lower halves that are closer to shorts than an actual leotards would be. The only exception is Yindra’s, still hanging on the rack, which is ruby red. They also vary in sleeve length, some closer to tanks while others have long sleeves similar to this. The boys are dressed in red dress shirts that appear to match the design of the leotards, but they’re currently concealed under sleek but breathable black suit jackets, and their pants are silky and alternate in either silver or gold.

On top of traditional stage makeup, the girls also have a bit of rouge to accent the color scheme and bright red lips. Every single one of the performers has shimmery gold eyeshadow accenting their eyeliner, and Darby and Chai are taking careful care to give each of them a sprinkling of crimson rhinestones just around the corners of their eyes.

Riley is just finishing up pinning her hair, styled so it’s tumbling stylishly over one shoulder but will hold. She’s been trying to keep it cool all afternoon but the nerves are starting to creep up on her now -- especially since once again so many of them are missing down to the wire. Maybe they won’t be able to pull it together in the nick of time after all…

Isadora is also feeling the pressure, marching back into the dressing room with Farkle in tow. Her tenderness from that conversation is long gone. Darby gestures Farkle over to get his crimson added, while Isadora threatens to implode over the fact that certain people still aren’t here. Are they trying to send her into cardiac arrest? Maya raises her eyebrows from where she’s volumizing her award-winning golden locks, fussing it up with her hands to give it that starkissed quality.

Maya: Wow. Is that what I sound like?

Yogi: Most of the time, yes.

Maya: Well. Happy to hear I sound like a passionate, intense woman with vision.

Chai tries to calm Isadora, tentatively reaching out and patting her shoulder. Isadora allows the touch, willing to take serenity from any source right now.

Sarah, Missy, and Nate all rush into the room at the same time, claiming that they’ve bought them a little more time. Sarah says she complained to one of the stage managers so much about something nitpicky that they almost started crying, so now they’re pausing to fix it; Nate straight up just stole one of the announcers microphones and hid it so now they’re stalling to look for it. And Missy paid off one of the stagehands to get the crowd to do a 7th-inning style stretch like in baseball, just for theater nerds.

Darby: Seriously? I didn’t think they’d go with something silly like that.

Missy: When someone slides over a few hundreds, people will do anything.

Maybe so. If it buys them even a few more minutes before they have to get ready to hit their marks, so be it.

Thankfully, the cavalry rolls up just in time. Nigel and Yindra race through the doors, everyone exclaiming palpable relief. Yindra waves them all off and immediately grabs her leotard to start changing, wondering if they’ve gotten the rest of their costumes yet. Zay limps in a few moments later, everyone greeting him cheerfully in spite of their anxieties.

Riley slides over and pulls him into a tight hug.

Riley: I’m so glad you came.

Zay: Yeah, well, I’ve got good friends and am attracting wake-up calls like a magnet these days. Honestly, if this one could be the last one for a while, I’d appreciate it.

With that, Zay wishes all of them the best of luck, assuring them he’ll be out there cheering them on. They cheer him off, then frantically go back to pulling themselves together.

The last missing link swoops in just as Zay disappears, Jade entering to great fanfare with Dave, Jeff, and Lucas on her heels. They’re carrying the last remaining costume pieces, basically hot off the sewing machine, Jade holding a pretty-looking gauzy fabric in her arms while the boys are holding bulkier items.

Jade: Okay, now we’re ready to roll.

Riley, in awe: Jade, you are a genius.

All of them gleefully commend Jade for her hard work, swarming the boys to get their last costume piece -- for the girls, blazers similar to the ones the boys already have. But they’re glossy silver and gold, at least as far as we can see. Nigel is staring at Jade, mouth parted open, once again struck by how she manages to pull off the impossible.

Jade: Make sure you’re picking one that matches your leotard, and remember when you do the reverse to move gently, even though you’re moving fast. These are durable, but you don’t want to risk tearing it apart in the middle of the set.

Then Jade gestures Yindra forward, handing off the last piece to her. She tells her how to put it on and fasten it correctly, and also how to remove it correctly while still allowing for showy flair. But she knows she can handle it -- and it was custom-made for her, so.

Yindra: My very own Jade Beamon original. [ with a grin ] Coveted rite of diva passage.

Jade beams. But their nice moment is interrupted -- and from a very uncommon source of interruption, at that.

Nigel, boldly: Jade.

She jumps lightly, swiveling to find him. Yindra makes a face, stepping back a bit, and it’s like the seas part for them to be able to see each other. The entire A class goes silent -- a rare feat -- watching the interaction with rapt interest.

Jade: … yes?

Well, he’s done it now. Now is the moment to say what he needs to say -- if he fumbles it now, he may not ever get the frenzied courage to speak again. He takes a deep breath, holding her gaze, speaking confidently even though he’s breathless.

Nigel: You are the most incredible person I’ve ever met.

Jade has stopped breathing, standing like a deer in headlights at the center of the room. She knows all eyes are on her, and that shy part of her core is quaking… but there’s a hopeful gleam in her eyes, too. An electricity that doesn’t let her look away, doesn’t let her even think about escape. And she doesn’t want to anyway. This moment is something she’s daydreamed about since she was fourteen... is it finally actually happening…

Jade: … yeah?

Nigel: Yes. You outshine everything else. You never cease to amaze me, you consistently pull off the impossible. You’re insanely talented, and yet you’re one of the most down-to-earth people I know. I like down-to-earth.

With each statement, Nigel slowly closes the distance between them, coming to join her at the center. She doesn’t stop him, not able to do anything but keep looking at him.

Nigel: I like you.

Jade: Oh.

Nigel: And I know I’m quiet, and hesitant, and don’t usually speak my mind. I’ve been distracted, and clueless, and some have even called me a chickenshit.

Yindra, quietly: Well, we don’t need to bring that up right now...

Nigel: I know all that, and I know it hurt you. It made you unsure, and I completely get that. But I’m not distracted now. I’ve got a clue. And I’m not scared anymore.

He’s right in front of her now, only a bit of space between them. Jade gazes up at him, holding her ground, but that hopeful gleam has spread into an aura. It’s bouncing between them, it’s filling up the room.

Nigel, softly: And I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being quiet --

Jade: … I like quiet…

Nigel: But I’m speaking up now. I’ll speak as loud as I need to make sure you hear it. I like you. I like you, Jade Beamon. And if you’re not too busy being the incredible woman you are… I’d like to take you on a date.

Whew! The class is holding their breath, riveted like it’s their very own TV show, waiting to see what happens next. There’s a pause, a beat of uncertainty where we don’t know what direction things are going to go… and then Jade breaks into a smile.

Jade: Yeah. [ nodding eagerly ] Yeah, okay, I’d like that.

VICTORY! Not the main one of the evening, but a victory nonetheless. Nigel mirrors her smile, obviously relieved, as the Yogi starts an uproarious clap that the rest of the class echoes. Once they’ve just a few moments to soak it in, Lucas clears his throat.

Lucas: This is nice, and everything, but is it really the best time…

Nigel snaps his head to look at him, smile dropping. His expression is incredulous.

Nigel: Are you kidding me? For real? As if you all haven’t been making dramatic scenes and making everything about you for the last three years?!

Maya: Well.

Nigel: But no, I make one statement one time --

Yindra, to Darby: I swear, whatever Nigel is on today, I want some of it.

His (perhaps righteous) tirade towards the mains is cut short, though, an usher popping his head in and explaining that they finally found that missing microphone. So they should be backstage for places in about five minutes and counting.

That’s one way to get everyone back on track. Lucas tells Dave and Nate to go head backstage, the two of them exchanging quick bro hugs with Dylan, Asher, and Jeff and wishing them luck before they zoom off. Lucas takes one last second to reach Riley, taking her hand and accepting the brief kiss she gives him automatically. They keep their foreheads pressed together, pretending for an instant amidst the chaos that it’s just the two of them.

Lucas: You look amazing. You’re going to kill this thing.

Riley: Ditto. [ breathy ] I love you.

Lucas nods, opening his mouth as if he’s going to respond. Like he’s going to say it back, like it’s right on the tip of his tongue… but it doesn’t come. Not yet. He kisses her again instead, pointedly, then he pulls away and dashes out after Nate and Dave. Missy eyes him as he goes, expression hard to read.

Riley takes a deep breath, holds it, lets it go, and spins to rally the troops together. She gathers them in a circle and Maya leads them in an empowering but kickass -- and classically Maya -- pep talk to hype them up. Then Dylan takes the lead, putting his hand in the middle. The rest of them follow without hesitation, and he leads them in the war-cry pump-up ritual he usually leads the techies in before shows. Let’s go, Triple A. Let’s go, Triple A. LET’S GO, TRIPLE A --

Then they throw their arms in the air, full to bursting with infectious energy as they look towards the ceiling -- or in this case, at us, looking down on them from above.

LET’S GO!

Break 2.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - LOBBY - DAY

A couple of light dings and the venue lights dimming and rising indicate to those mingling outside that the intermission between competitors is nearing its end. Charlie finishes the cup of water he was drinking, tossing it into the recycling and turning to head back towards the auditorium -- when he locks eyes with Zay, also slowly making his way in that direction from the dressing room hall. Charlie approaches uncertainly.

Charlie: Hi.

Zay, awkwardly: Hey. [ eyeing his plain clothes ] What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be backstage, embroiled in a post-performance high?

Charlie: [ with a nervous laugh ] Actually, no. I chose not to perform.

Zay raises his eyebrows, surprised. His non-answer begs for further explanation, though, so Charlie shyly elaborates.

Charlie: It just didn’t feel right. Don’t get me wrong, it was fun, getting to be front and center for a time. Try something new. But going up against you all… I don’t know. Just didn’t feel like me.

Zay: I bet nefarious factors behind the scenes didn’t improve that feeling either.

Charlie: No, yeah… yeah, that didn’t help. [ with a shrug ] Oh well. Just one performance, right? No big deal.

But it is. It’s one of the biggest deals of the year, and they both know it. Charlie sacrificed his chance to be a part of it, and risked a lot more in telling them the truth so they could save their routine -- and yet, that doesn’t feel out of character for him at all. Zay knows all too well.

Zay: Well, at least you didn’t fully turn yourself over to the dark side. [ off his amused head shake ] I guess it’s nice to hear that even with all the other changes, you’ve managed to remember who you are.

Charlie: … maybe, yeah. But thanks. That means a lot, coming from you.

He should know, as perhaps the only person who ever really knew him in the first place. The sentiment lingers between them, trapping them back in that uncertain space of not knowing exactly where they stand. It looks like Charlie wants to say more, but the intercom dings again, signaling that Adams’ performance is imminent.

Charlie: It’s great you could be here to support them, though. Even though you can’t perform yourself. [ a beat ] I’ve got a seat open next to me… you know, if you haven’t settled anywhere yet.

Another beat of hesitancy… and then Zay nods.

Zay: Since the rest of my crew is a little busy… yeah. That’d be cool.

Just the right amount of arrogance and graciousness, and a perfect dose of Zay. Charlie smiles instinctively, the two of them heading towards the doors together.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The lights dim, the announcer introducing Adams Academy of the Arts as the next showcase. The curtain is closed, and behind it the performers are heading to their places. Dave, Nate, and Jade, dressed in all black, are gearing up their rolling flats backstage for when they’re needed. A few rows of steps have been installed in the back leading to a high point where a doorway disappears to backstage, but nearly all of the A class is arranged in windows in front of it on the stage. They’re facing away from the audience, which is nice, because it gives them the chance to steel themselves before the number truly kicks off and the games begin.

Riley weaves through her classmates, wishing them all good luck as she finds her place on the stage. And just in the nick of time, as the announcers are just wrapping up their summary of their team and passing them the floor.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Lucas is up in the booth, headset on, fitting in surprisingly well with the rest of the professional technicians working the event. He’s on the lighting board, sound levels a reach away, and the other workers give him a wide berth to do whatever he needs to do. His glare is determined.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

So, without further ado… Riley takes a deep breath, centering herself. The curtain rises...

It’s now or never. The time has finally come for Adams to showcase everything they’ve got -- and they are going to damn well try.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “There She Goes! / Fame” as performed by Fame - The Musical Original Cast || Performed by Yindra Amino (feat. AAA Seniors)

We’ve heard this track before, back in Maya’s dream sequence, but it’s got a new coat of paint and we’re turning the volume up to eleven. Yindra appears at the top of the stairs to kick off the vocals, the A class still theatrically turned towards her. Her full costume is now apparent, the final piece a sheer gauzy red dress wrap, similar to what Taylor Swift wore on her reputation Tour. It’s vibrant and saucy, perfect to swish and flick as Yindra steals the show.

About thirty seconds in she begins her descent down the stairs, Dylan and Jeff jogging up the steps to meet her and guide her down. When they get close to the bottom, they lift her by the arms and do a spin, placing back down as the A class parts to let her through. She makes it through the class and playfully flirts with most of them as she goes, matching the tone of the number effortlessly. She makes it back to the steps just in time for the belt before the dance break, lifting her arms to the sky and swinging her hips.

Everything is beautiful up here in the clouds!

Then we jump into the dance, really allowing the A class to take flight. They sharply in unison, demonstrating only the first tastes of Zay’s savvy choreography. Yindra makes it back to the front to lead the pack when they get to the chorus (“Fame! I wanna live forever…”)

Then an unexpected soloist takes over when we switch into Spanish, Asher jumping to the front and channeling diva. He’s the only boy with his suit jacket unbuttoned, letting more red bleed through and also helping him stand out. The reason he can stomach taking on the challenge is clear with Dylan right behind him, acting as his dance partner and taking center stage with him when they shift to the salsa bit at 2:20. The rest of the A class has paired off too, including Haley & Clarissa, Jeff & Yindra, Isadora & Chai, and Farkle & Riley.

Asher delivers a killer vocal run, and it appears he has been doing his stretches since “If I Didn’t Have You” in 302, because this time when Dylan dips him at the transition, they nail it perfectly.

Then the dance truly takes over, the front of the stage clearing for solo dance moments to take spotlight. This starts with Haley, doing a few ballet moves, and then passes to other classmates -- Chai, Maya with a dazzling split and leg kick. But the true star of the dance break is Jeff, bringing those promised break dance moves and earning cheers from the audience. Then he and Yindra dance together for the remainder of the break, making impressive salsa partners and definitely fulfilling a daydream for her little lesbian crush on him.

As the dance break winds down, Yindra makes her way back up the steps, the boys chasing her up, so that when she starts again on the pre-chorus (“I’m on top of the charts…”), she can lean on them effortlessly. She slides across Dylan’s shoulders and then leans into a lift, Dylan, Farkle, Nigel, and Yogi holding her sideways across them and bringing her back down to the stage. On the next line (“I’m on top in their hearts…”), the boys rotate her around before depositing her front and center stage again.

As she launches into the final chorus at about 3:45, Yindra backs into dead center as her classmates weave in circles around her, the vocals and energy building in intensity. The lights glow from their rosy, warm hues and transition closer and closer to red. On the last line, Yindra gives it her all, allowing Dylan and Nigel to lift her up onto their shoulders high above the rest as she throws her arms up in a final declarative diva pose.

Remember my name!

The lights turn blood red, casting the A class in shadow. The resounding applause is well earned. Zay and Charlie are on the edge of their seats, clapping enthusiastically. Assuming correctly that that was the dance standout of the set, Charlie braves nudging Zay with his elbow, which he glances at and then smiles in return.

Backstage, though, Haverford seems less pleased. This is not at all what they saw from semis. Brandon glowers with his arms crossed, Billy shaking his head in frustration behind him.

On stage, the A class works quickly in the brief transition. Nigel strips off his suit jacket and hands it to Yindra, who has just stripped off her sheer dress and is now down to her ruby leotard that otherwise matches her peers. She slips on the jacket while the other A class girls take theirs off and flip them inside out, now also black like the boys. Nate darts on stage to grab the discarded dress and then all the boys disperse, leaving just the A class girls on stage in a line with their heads downcast. The anticipation builds…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The Man” as performed by Taylor Swift || Performed by AAA Senior Ladies

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

Maya brings the setlist back to life, tilting her chin up and launching into the first verse. She moves sharply but fluidly, reanimating each of her fellow girls as she struts and spins past them along the front of the stage. When she reaches the end and spots Brandon scowling in the wings, she gives him a cocky little head tilt, flipping her hair as she spins back around.

Every conquest I made would make me more of a boss to you

Riley takes over from there as the “fearless leader,” and from there it’s a strong, upbeat showing from the senior A class women. Each one has a solo, as indicated by the lyric sheet, and the choreography is simple but effective. Their reversible blazers show off Jade’s creative costuming as well as echo the presence of the boys in the previous number, driving home the theme.

Brandon isn’t the only one who can strategize a setlist. With this female-dominated interlude, Adams not only showcases one of the biggest assets they have against Haverford -- women -- they essentially get a fun musical fuck-you towards them out of it too.

All the girls come together for the end of the number, creating a sisterhood-type formation with their arms around each other and at varying levels -- crouching, standing straight, etc. -- while Maya stands front center. She delivers the airy final lyrics, a teasing smile on her lips as she smirks at the audience.

If I was a man… then I’d be the man…

The lights dim again, darkening the stage for transition into the final number in AAA’s setlist. Eric glances to his program, eyes widening in surprise. He elbows Harper and leans over to talk to both her and Jack.

Eric: They did everything for this by themselves?

Harper nods proudly. That’s right! And as for why Eric is so surprised, we’re about to find out. This is the time to make a lasting impression… as the lights rise on Adams’ final number…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Bellas Finals Mash Up” as performed by Pitch Perfect Original Cast || Performed by AAA Seniors

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

Okay, quick disclaimer. The mash-up performed here is not the same arrangement as the Barden Bellas. But we aren’t mash-up creators, nor would we ever pretend to be (I only write fake lyrics on TV), and this performance has the perfect ebb and flow of how we envision the A class’s final track unfolds. So while we’re providing a lyric sheet and encouraging you to listen to the song to get immersed in what the performance would feel like, keep in mind that it wouldn’t be the exact same songs and arrangement.

But it is impressive, because for the A class mash-up, they put it together all on their own. Farkle, Nate, and Clarissa wrote and arranged the conglomeration of songs, and they made it a capella for easier preparation. So it’s nothing but high energy and the A class harmonizing powerfully throughout -- putting a dent in Haverford’s usual boast of having mastery of harmonies unlike anyone else.

The A class starts demurely on stage, back in group formation, Nigel at the front to kick us off. His smooth, unassuming tenor is perfect for the gentle opening, easing the crowd back into the music before the performance erupts in a burst of sound, movement, and energy. All of them strip off their suit jackets and toss them aside, Yogi energetically taking over the next part of the mash-up with more of a rap-like, fast-paced cadence. With the suit jackets gone, Jade’s designs finally shine at full power -- intricate and mesmerizing design on both the leotards and dress shirts, each one the slightest bit unique yet a united aesthetic, creating a shimmering, captivating visual like firelight as they move and dance. Behind them, Nate and Dave inconspicuously but groovily swoop and grab all of the discarded jackets that didn’t make it backstage, both not meant to be noticed and yet seamlessly a part of the performance.

As the mash-up transitions into a more thoughtful ballad type -- though that infectious engine is still running underneath it all -- Riley takes the reins, bringing her usual level of enchantment as she moves along to the beat and weaves around her classmates, dancing with each of them.

When she makes it back to the front for the pseudo-bridge (“As you walk on by… will you call my name…”) and the A class moves into a new triangle formation behind her, she raises her gaze upward and towards the booth. Even though she can’t see him through the lights…

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

The intent behind the moment is clear. She’s looking to Lucas, a secret message shared between the two of them. A small smile blooms on his face, and he reaches for a slider…

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And the spotlight on Riley brightens, just enough that she’d notice. Her smile widens, already dazzling in show business mode, and she launches into the choreography at the tail-end of her segment around about 1:40 with deeper enthusiasm than ever. Her classmates back her up, all of them moving in unison until they swap numbers again, Isadora taking over.

Then Chai jumps in, having a trio moment at the front with Darby and Sarah as they slide through their section of the mash-up. Then Jeff pipes up, doing an AMBITION first as he raps on the next bit with Yogi backing him up. Farkle theatrically pushes between both of them to take his solo (the Rebel Wilson one, though he sings it a lot less… oddly than she does), seemingly back in shape diva wise at least for this one slice of performance. He and Isadora pass the vocal runs back and forth, spinning around each other and half-dancing together, backing away from each other as the build to the final act comes to fruition.

Then Maya’s vocals pull out all the stops, up on the steps while Riley heads the front of the formation below. Dylan and Asher are right behind her as right and left hand -- until Dylan breaks rank to really bring the house down, running into a front flip across the stage. He pops upright, winks at the audience, then cartwheels and back handsprings the other way, before returning to his place for the last hurrah.

The audience is fully enthralled, on their feet and clapping along. Eric, Jack, and Harper can’t hold back their grins, pride shining in their eyes. Even Shawn seems genuinely impressed -- Angela wipes tears from her eyes. In the back, Charlie and Zay are basically dancing along as much as they can, cheering and clapping and both looking happier than they have in weeks.

And with that, there’s nothing to do but bring it on home. The A class delivers the final segment with everything they’ve got -- well-trained harmonies, dynamite energy, and their signature charm of lovable underdogs with nothing to lose.

With the last couple of lines they break formation and return back to the places they started at the very beginning of the setlist, stomping in unison and hitting their final marks. Then they spin and drop their heads down as the stage lights go out, back where they started. As if they could wind up and do it all over again, just as spectacularly, in a New York minute. Like it’s easy.

But it’s not. We know how hard it is -- we know how hard they worked. And they did it. Somehow, regardless of what happens next, they did it.

The curtain lowers, nearly the whole house on their feet to give them thunderous applause.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM - DAY

The A class is celebrating and destressing in the dressing room, all buzzing with post-performance hype and the rush of a great show. Farkle and Maya stand together and hug each other tight, the latter clinging to him like an emotional support beanpole.

Farkle: Doesn’t matter now, does it? All that matters is we did a good job and had fun, right? Or whatever people say.

Maya: Screw that. If we don’t win, I’m burning this motherfucker down.

Zay and Charlie poke their heads in, earning uproarious reactions from all of them. Haley and Clarissa immediately rush to tackle Charlie with hugs, while Zay is swarmed with cheers and praise for his choreography. It all turned out fantastic!

Yindra: Not that there was ever any doubt.

Charlie finds a moment to get a word in, stating that he needs to go congratulate Haverford and check in with them, but he wanted to be able to tell them all the same. They were spectacular, and it was so awesome to get to see it. They all thank him, and there's this clear sense in the air that he should’ve been there with him. He belonged up there with them.

But alas. Charlie makes his exit just as the techies return, and he gives them compliments as well as they pass. Jade is also quickly laden with praise -- her costumes were perfect and definitely stole the show. Nate and Dave ambush Dylan, Asher, and Jeff, pulling them into a giant glom hug and losing their shit about how epic they were. Like, Jeff! Your dancing! And Asher, your Spanish!

Nate: I didn’t even realize you were part Latino.

Asher: … wait, seriously?

Dave: [ shaking Dylan’s shoulders happily ] And when you did the flip! And the backward flip!

Isadora watches them fondly, shaking her head, only looking away when she’s tapped on the shoulder. Chai is there, offering her a timid congratulations. They did it! And she did an amazing job with her solos.

Well, with all the extra hours she put in for her dancing… in a sudden move, Isadora reaches out and pulls Chai into a hug. Brief, but more than she allows or gives most people. It’s interesting, actually, how Chai manages to get her to do most things without thinking. Like a brashness she just brings out in her, or something.

But Chai doesn’t seem at all opposed. She’s surprised only for a moment, then she lightly returns the embrace, trying not to push it too far. When they pull away, Isadora’s touch lingers a bit longer than usual, like she isn’t sure what to do with her hands all the sudden.

Isadora: I couldn’t have joined and caught up without you, so. If I contribute at all to a victory, then it’s your contribution too.

Chai: In that case, I think we can call it a draw. [ off her confused look ] Without your friendship I wouldn’t have adjusted to coming back very well, or probably even thought to consider telling the A class about… you know, before it was almost forced out of me. And who knows where I’d be if all that were the case… anyway, I’m grateful. Funny how the most unexpected people change your life, huh?

Isadora: Yeah… it actually is.

Chai smiles, Isadora tentatively mirroring it.

Speaking of people who unexpectedly change everything… Lucas makes his way over to Riley, the latter brightening instantly when she sees him. She gives him a tight hug, and he lifts her off her feet momentarily before they break apart.

Riley: We pulled it off.

Lucas: If we manage to cinch this, you realize it’s all because of you, right? That entire thing, that was all you.

Riley, touched: … it was a team effort. But I suppose it won’t really mean much until we know.

Which could be any minute now… Riley touches his arm, getting his attention again.

Riley: I just want you to know I’m proud of you. No matter what happens with showdown.

Lucas: Again, it didn’t have much to do with me --

Riley: I’m not just talking about today. I’m talking about how you ran for president in spite of the odds, your initiative to make real change, how dedicated you are to putting them in motion. At Adams, but on your own. I know how far-off college and stuff felt to you during the summer, and now you’ve got submitted applications and new goals and a whole new future ahead of you. Not even new, but -- you’re finally seeing it, that potential that has always been there. I know that’s not nothing. I know how hard that was. But you did it. And even though it’s all stuff I knew you were capable of, every day you continue to blow me away. [ a beat ] It’s so good to see you starting to believe it too.

Wow. A lot to process, a lot of warm sentiment he wants to really take in and commit to memory forever. It’s difficult enough to process it, there’s no words in the world for him to respond with, so he settles for a smile and taking her hand instead. Lacing their fingers together, bonding them regardless of what might happen next.

Them against the world. Riley beams, squeezing his hand in return.

Perfect timing, too, because the time has come. A stagehand pops in and informs them it’s time for the announcement of the winners, beckoning them all onto stage. Yindra insists to Zay that he come with them for this -- he deserves to be up there just as much as they do.

Silence hangs over us as they head out…

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - BACKSTAGE HALL - DAY

The intrusive quiet follows as the A class makes their way through the backstage area, arriving back at the wings. All the anticipation of this final result building on our shoulders…

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The announcers are teeing up the big final reveal as the A class files out, Haverford populating the other side, but it’s all muffled and quiet around us. Brandon and Maya exchange a sharp glare. Yindra and Nigel each keep one of Zay’s arms around their shoulders, holding him steady as they take the stage. Lucas, Dave, Nate, and Jade hang back in the wings, Dave wrapping Jade in a hug from behind and propping his chin on her head.

Evelyn has joined us for the final reveal, the guest announcer who gets the distinct privilege as head of the school board to announce the victor. And what an honor it is! She gives a little speech about how it’s so clear both groups worked hard, put in the time and the effort, and have more than enough talent to spare. But alas, only one can win.

Evelyn: So let’s get to what you’re all waiting for -- the results. Without further ado, the winner of the 2020 Senior Showdown: Manhattan is…

It’s the most excruciating wait in the world. Zay clasps Riley’s shoulder from behind, squeezing tight. Haley links her arm tight with Clarissa’s and closes her eyes; Asher hides behind Dylan and tucks his head against his back, their hands clasped together. Maya reaches to take Farkle and Isadora’s hands, flanked on either side of her.

In the audience, Harper grips both Jack and Eric’s arms, all of them on the edge of their seats. Charlie is alone in the back but rapt with attention, hands clasped together in front of his mouth. He’s holding his breath, a prayer shining in his eyes -- but who he’s directing those wishes towards, it’s impossible to say…

And then in a moment, it’s done.

Evelyn: Congratulations to the talented seniors of Adams Academy for the Arts!

The chaos is instantaneous. The audience erupts into cheer as the A class breaks free from their paralysis, bursting into joyful hysteria. The Adams faculty leap out of their seats with equal elation, relieved and overwhelmed with pride. Now Angela isn’t the only one crying -- Eric and Harper have joined her with their own tears. Charlie applauds wildly, shouting out a cheer.

But nothing can compare to the mood within the class. It’s impossible to describe. Dylan picks up Asher and spins him around. Riley whips around and rams into Zay to hug him, shaking with excitement. Nigel runs off stage and pulls Jade out to join them, grasping her hand the entire time, and Dave and Nate eagerly follow. Darby, Chai, and Sarah jump in a hug together, and Yogi does a victory yodel.

Farkle pulls Isadora and Maya to him in a bone-crushing hug, before releasing the latter to go accept the trophy for Adams from the announcers. She faux graciously accepts the trophy and then turns to have a good, old-fashioned “good game” handshake with Brandon. They appear pleasant enough to the audience, but their grip on each other is vice tight.

Then the humility is over, the Haverford boys retreat, and Maya holds up the trophy for them all to see. VICTORY, BITCHES! They all swarm to center stage to meet her and it, dizzy with their change in fortune.

Except Riley. She heads in the opposite direction, marching into the wings straight for Lucas. She doesn’t hesitate the moment she reaches him, pulling him into a deep, enthusiastic kiss. Lucas returns it, too lost in the euphoria for a moment to be self-conscious, gripping her waist to keep her steady and pull her closer.

An undeniably beautiful moment -- save for the way Missy eyes it disdainfully from amidst the celebrating circle of her peers.

But even her potential jealousy can’t spoil the mood. They did it -- Adams Academy are the champions of senior showdown.

EXT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - NIGHT

Night has descended upon them over the course of the event, the driveway and streets around the venue bright with headlights as ride shares and drivers make their way home.

Charlie is standing in the cold evening air, hands stuffed in his pockets and breath creating steam in front of him. He perks up when he spots who he’s waiting for, Brandon emerging from the building and descending the steps. His expression is grim in the wake of Haverford’s loss, and it doesn’t bounce back to its usual crisp confidence quite so effortlessly when he finds Charlie at the bottom of the steps.

Brandon: Charles. Don’t see any reason for you to be hanging around this late -- considering you weren’t a participant.

Charlie: Yeah, I know. I just wanted… I was hoping to catch you before you left. You weren’t in the room when I caught up with the boys before the results, so…

So. Brandon grants him a moment, standing opposite him and raising his eyebrows. Go on. Charlie clears his throat.

Charlie: I wanted to say how great I thought you guys were. You killed the set. And “Sherry” was a great choice. I’m sorry I doubted it.

Brandon: Not good enough, apparently. But thank you.

Charlie: … it’s okay that you didn’t win. I hope you know that. Six years is a heavy burden to carry on your shoulders. At least now you’re free of it, right?

Brandon: I suppose that’s one way to look at ending a proud tradition every senior class before you has pulled off seamlessly. Though I can’t deny the A class gave an impressive showing. [ a beat ] Interesting, how they completely reset their entire performance. It was nothing like what I’d heard about it.

Oop. For just an instant, Charlie panics, but he recovers quickly.

Charlie: Yeah, well, Riley told me they just felt like they needed to switch things up. Get a fresh start, you know? Kind of like your thinking with “Sherry.” Safe doesn’t win showdown, right?

Brandon: [ not buying it ] Sure.

Either way, Charlie thinks they did well, and they have nothing to be ashamed of for not winning. He’ll do his best to try and bolster spirits on Monday. A charming offer, one which Brandon merely nods to acknowledge. For now, at least in the immediate aftermath of stinging failure, the new kid warmth he displayed towards Charlie is long gone.

Still, he can’t relinquish having the last word. After Charlie bids him goodnight and starts down the sidewalk, Brandon suddenly calls after him.

Brandon: Charles.

Charlie stops, turning to look at him again. Not sure what to expect -- a reprimand? The fabled dark side everyone keeps alluding to? Maybe a thank you for his kind words?

Brandon offers none of the above. He maintains his chilly demeanor but infuses it with his usual suave delivery, giving him another nod.

Brandon: Enjoy the rest of your weekend.

To Charlie, this simply seems nice. A good sign if nothing else. He smiles, then continues on his journey home. But when Brandon spins back to face the street, his expression is far from pleasant.

Perhaps he’s granting Charlie one last courtesy. He should enjoy this weekend as much as he can -- afterwards, perhaps enjoyment may not be so easy to find.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Sunday morning, bright and early, the school is more populated than usual. A small group is present to watch HARLEY KEINER unlock the trophy case and load their new one into it, placing it front and center with the utmost care. Jack is there to supervise, while Lucas, Dylan, and Asher came to witness the moment for themselves.

Dylan: Thanks for your service, sir.

Harley: Oh, no no, thank you. It’s been too many years since I got to update the display with this bad boy -- props to you folks for bringing him home.

And what a happy homecoming it is! Lucas steps forward to look for himself, the gleaming proof of his victory staring back at them. Representative of all the money about to come their way, to fund his initiative at least for a time.

He can’t help but grin, spinning back around to face the others. He loftily holds his arms out, sauntering forward and giving a cheeky bow. Then another, really milking the moment. Dylan and Asher break into theatrical applause, allowing him the silliness.

Lucas: Thank you, thank you very much.

They meet him in the middle and both throw their arms around his shoulders, and Lucas doesn’t shy away from the contact. Dylan starts playfully singing the chorus “We Are the Champions,” Asher quickly harmonizing, and even Lucas joins in as they amble towards the doors.

Lucas/Dylan/Asher: No time for losers, cause we are the champions!

Dylan: OF THE WOOOOOOORLD --

Jack watches them go, amused at their antics. Soaking in the moment of pride, of peace, in the school that despite its hell, he loves more than anything. He crosses his arms and meanders his way back to his office, humming the Queen song to himself as if it’s contagious.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Despite it not being anywhere near the way he imagined it, Zay finally submits his application to Turner. And this time in facing it he’s not alone, Yindra and Nigel both plopped on the bed next to him and encouraging him to do it right up until the moment it’s official.

He thanks them for everything, acknowledging Nigel’s argument that he’s glad he didn’t miss showdown. Nigel agrees it’s definitely going to be something they remember for a long time, especially now with the sweet addition of victory.

Yindra: Um, yeah, and how am I ever gonna forget your big speech to Jade? Like hello?

Zay: It was pretty ballsy. We might have to tell him about the contingency plan.

Yindra: Ooh… are we sure? Do we think he’s ready?

Nigel: What plan?

Yindra: We need a Michelle, Zay. Do we think he has what it takes to be a Michelle?

Nigel: To be a whomst?

Yindra and Zay exchange a conspiratorial look. Yindra claims this is their big plan for success, if their own solo endeavors don’t pan out.

Zay: So. Destiny’s Child --

INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - NIGHT

Farkle is meeting with DR. MICHELLE HAN again after a week or so of avoiding her, in his usual spot on the couch. But this time he’s sitting upright, and he’s got company -- both STUART MINKUS and JENNIFER MINKUS are with him. Nervous but resolute, Farkle claims that he’s ready to discuss the bipolar diagnosis further, especially in figuring out where they go from here and what he can do to live with it.

Dr. Han is pleased, happy to oblige. She tells him she’s glad he came around to it on his own terms, then begins to discuss the nuances of the condition. Jennifer glances to Farkle next to her, placing her hand on his forearm and giving it a supportive squeeze.

INT. YINDRA’S CHURCH - NIGHT

Charlie enters a large church we recognize as Yindra’s, only much more empty on a weekday evening than Sunday morning. The lights are all on, and there are various people dotted around. The PASTOR, an elderly black man with a wise aura and mischievous gleam in his eyes, is talking pleasantly with two elderly ladies to the side.

They eye Charlie as he walks past them towards the rows of seats. He has a lightness about him that wasn’t there the last time we saw him in his own church, but there are still remnants of his usual anxious state.

He walks up to the stage that Yindra and the gospel choir performed on and stops in the forestage. There are three banners decorating the wall in front of him, in white, purple and blue, featuring the cross, ichthys, and a flame. A very different vibe from his usual Catholic church, but comforting all the same.

Once he’s free of the church ladies, the pastor approaches Charlie.

Pastor: Hello, young man. What brings you here at this time of night?

Charlie: Hi. Sorry if I’m intruding at all. [ off his nod of reassurance ] I came here the other week with my friend Yindra -- Yindra Amino, in the choir?

Pastor: Ah, yes. I know the Aminos quite well. Yindra is a lovely girl.

Charlie: I’m Catholic, but it just seemed so happy and… cool here, so I… well, I have something I need to say to God, and I ended up here. I hope that’s okay.

Pastor: Of course. We welcome everybody, always. [ with a warm smile ] I’ll leave you and the big guy to it.

He gives him a fatherly pat on the shoulder, then leaves him be. Charlie takes a moment to collect his thoughts, looking up at the banners, and then kneels down. He takes his silver cross necklace out from under his clothes and holds onto the cross with one hand.

Charlie: God… [ with a sigh ] It’s been a long semester. And a long summer. Kind of a long life, to be honest. And lately I’ve been having to do a lot of self-reflection. I keep finding myself in these moments where I have to… make a tough call. Or get to the right decision. Do the right thing. And every time I think to myself maybe you’d just give me the answer, that these choices could be simple, but I get that they aren’t. They aren’t supposed to be. It shouldn’t be that easy to define who you are — you need a test, sometimes, to prove it. And while I feel like I’ve had my fair share of that, I get why you couldn’t just show me the way. I had to find it for myself. I have to get there on my own. I can’t expect you to give me guidance if I’m not ready for it. But I’m getting there, now, and… and part of that is...

Tell us who you are.

He takes a deep breath, and exhales.

Charlie: I’m gay. [ with a nervous chuckle ] But you already knew that, didn’t you? You’ve always known exactly who I am. It’s me who’s been playing catch up.

Charlie pauses, fiddling with the chain of his necklace. He’s not sure what he’s waiting for -- the lightning strike, maybe -- but nothing comes. Of course it doesn’t. He releases another breath, easier now, and continues.

Charlie: I’m starting to understand who I am. And who you are, too. I’m beginning to trust my own decisions, and put who and what I value most above my own comfort or ease. There’s still a lot to figure out, I know, and I’m a long way from the person I’m meant to be… but I feel like I’m on the right path. [ with more soft confidence ] I pray that you’ll be with me on that journey, and that you’ll continue to guide me. I’m sorry for blocking this part of me from you for so long. I’m going to try and be my authentic self as much as I can from now on — I’m starting to realize it’s not worth being anything else. [ quietly ] Amen.

He stands up and takes a moment, then heads back towards the church’s entrance. He can’t help the corners of his mouth turning up; a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, but he’s trying not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere of the building.

The pastor catches him before he leaves, asking if he managed to tell God what he needed to.

Charlie: I did, thank you.

Pastor, tactfully: Forgive me if it’s not my place to ask, but... is your church accepting of the LGBTQ+ community?

Charlie’s eyes go wide.

Charlie: How did you…?

Pastor: Call it a natural instinct… my husband tells me it’s called ‘gaydar?’

Charlie processes this new information. Both of them almost want to laugh -- it’s just a little bit funny, a unique kind of levity, spotting another religious gay in the wild -- then he shakes his head to his question.

Charlie: I grew up in a pretty strict household and church.

Pastor: Hm, I see. I’m aware of several Christian LGBTQ+ communities and churches in the city, if you’d be interested?

Charlie: I don’t know if… actually, yeah. That’d be really nice, thank you.

Pastor: I’ll put together a little list for you and tell Yindra to Snapchat it over to you. [ off his dubious expression ] Or whatever you kids are using now. Don’t look at me like that, I’m old.

Charlie thanks him with a laugh, at ease and genuinely happy. The pastor bids him farewell as he heads to the double doors with stained glass windows, through which the lights outside shine through, creating a pastel prism of color on the hardwood floor.

EXT. YINDRA’S CHURCH - NIGHT

Charlie steps back out into the night, closing his eyes and inhaling the frigid air. A light rain has started to fall, the whole world seeming to shine around him. It’s refreshing, invigorating -- or maybe that’s just the freedom of what he just did. It might all be in his head, it might not, but what it means to him is the realest thing there is.

He releases the breath he’s been holding for years, a light smile blooming on his face.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Party For One” as performed by Carly Rae Jepsen || Performed by Charlie Gardner

There was no way we were going to get through the entire midseason finale without Charlie performing. It wouldn’t be right. And he’s truly earned it this time, the uplifting percussion that kicks off the number almost heaven-sent.

He starts the vocals softly, breathing them out like his monumental exhale. Then he gets moving, hands still in his pockets, walking backwards along the sidewalk in step with the beat. His excitement builds through the verse and pre-chorus until he just can’t hold it in anymore. When the beat drops and the first chorus really hits, he breaks free, pulling his hands from his pockets and spinning into a dance.

He dances solo, unrestrained, continuing his journey as he goes. It’s energetic contemporary, skillful as always, and laced with that same frenetic melodrama that has defined his previous performances in his imagination. Only this time it’s joy -- pure, uninhibited joy -- that pumps that passion through his movements.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Charlie carries on through the streets, loosening up as he goes. He unbuttons his coat, holds his arms out to soak in the rain. He runs his hands through his hair to brush the wetness from it, mussing it up in the process from the neatly combed way he’s been wearing it for weeks. Around him the city is a kaleidoscope, shimmering jewels in the night of reds, blues, purples, and gold.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - NIGHT

By the second verse, he’s made it to Central Park, launching back into his fun and free choreography. He dances along benches, swings on lampposts like Singin’ in the Rain, and gets mud on his pants from slipping and sliding in the grass.

A little messy, but he doesn’t care. Why should he care when he’s free?

EXT. AAA - NIGHT

By the time he reaches the final minute, he’s arrived at the steps of Adams, closed and empty for the night but still brightly lit and welcoming. Inviting, like the feeling of standing on your doorstep after a long journey home.

And this is where Charlie truly lets loose, the gleaming structure of AAA acting as the backdrop to his final expression of liberation. The dancing is really impressive now, spins and kicks and a couple of splits sprinkled in, but what’s most compelling about it is how much feeling it conveys. It’s hard to recognize you haven’t seen someone be authentic until you actually do, and that’s how this performance feels. His coat abandoned on the steps, his hair wild and free, skin glowing with rainwater and finally back on his beat.

This is Charlie’s showcase moment. And finally, the only audience that matters is himself.

I’ll just dance for myself, back on my beat!

When he wraps the rendition he lowers himself down into a slippery recline on the steps, breathing heavy but so worth it. He leans back on his palms, tilting his head up to the rain, to the stars, to whatever lies beyond waiting for him. Then he smiles, easy and effortless, laughing a bit to himself as the weather soaks him clean.

INT. HART APARTMENT - NIGHT

Katy, Maya, and Isadora are sharing the remnants of a pizza at their new kitchen counter, taking a dinner break from unpacking and starting to arrange the space. Katy reminds her that she absolutely does not need to hang around and help, but Isadora claims she doesn’t mind. She likes it, actually, and it’s exciting to see what they do with the place. But she actually should get going tonight -- school day tomorrow, and Eric will be wondering where she is.

As she gathers her things to head out, Katy suggests they grab breakfast at the diner tomorrow morning before school to celebrate. Her treat, for old times sake. As flattered as Isadora is by that offer, she can’t. She has a meeting she can’t miss first thing in the morning, but rain check. She doesn’t want to pass that up.

Katy and Maya bid her farewell, then descend into excited giggles as they launch onto their couch. Katy comments on how wonderful the view is too from this new apartment -- miles above their old one, anyway. Maybe everything happens for a reason… but God, is it good to be back with her girl. Especially one who is now a champion.

Maya grins, hugging her again and cuddling close. She tells her she’s so glad she’s home, more than she could ever express.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT

Riley is on her bed, the room starting to look a bit different as Maya’s stuff disappears. She’s got her laptop open, application for Tisch NYU the last one she has left to submit. Only hours left to decide if she’s going to go for it or not, if pursuing the arts for real is something she even wants to try.

CORY MATTHEWS knocks on the door, making a witty comment about how now that Maya is gone, maybe it’s time to switch rooms back… Riley claims they may as well just wait until she goes to college, right? Not worth all that effort to do it now when she’ll just move again in six months… Cory gives her a look, but he can’t help but smile at the same time. Clever girl…

He makes a point of congratulating her again, making sure she knows how proud he is of her.

Cory: Every day, I’m impressed with what a strong, mature, and clear leader you’ve become. I can’t wait to see all the amazing things you’re going to do next.

Riley smiles, touched. She climbs off her bed and swiftly rushes across the room to give him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, thanking him, then darts back to her space before he can respond. He gives her another playful head shake, wishing her goodnight.

Once alone, it’s just her and the application. She hesitates for a moment longer, thinking on it… what does she have to lose?

Decisively, she hits submit. Putting the potential out there for good. No turning back now.

Riley, pre-lap: I did it. I smashed that submit button. It’s out there now.

INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT

Riley and Zay are meeting at Chubbies for late weekend celebratory fries, even more necessary now with her brand new update. Zay congratulates her and expresses confidence that she’s got as good a chance of getting into Tisch as any of them -- and yes, that includes Maya. He raises his water glass to cheers their future endeavors, Riley matching it enthusiastically.

The mood is somewhat disrupted when Charlie walks through the door, spotting them in their usual booth. This time, though, the sight doesn’t immediately make him think of retreat -- in fact, it seems like exactly what he was hoping for.

He quickly approaches their table, greeting both of them. Riley is surprised by his presence but not at all opposed… although his appearance is a bit questionable. Has he just been standing around in the rain? His hair is a windswept, slick mess, but there’s no mud on his clothes, so at least that part of his freedom dance wasn’t quite so literal.

Riley: Do you want to sit down? I know you like fries, so --

Charlie: [ still a bit out of breath ] Actually, I was hoping to catch a second with Zay. [ glancing at him ] If that’s okay?

Unexpected, certainly. Riley looks to Zay as well, gauging his reaction, trying to determine if she should stay or go. Zay eyes Charlie curiously, uncertain though far less apprehensive than in the recent past… then nods. He signals to Riley it’s okay, and she gets up to give them privacy without complaint. Charlie thanks her, touching her arm and congratulating her once again, before sliding into her vacated spot across from Zay.

For a moment, it’s hard to speak. No matter how much either of them want to, how often they think about it when they’re not around, the moment they’re in front of each other again it’s like everything stops. Like they’re frozen in time, still cold in the aftermath of a mistaken first time. A choked surrender in the costume loft. A blindsiding separation without a proper goodbye.

But time keeps going. They get older, they learn, they grow -- and there’s no doubt that both of them have done a painful amount of growing in the last few months. The only question now is if they can catch up to each other and find common ground; if they can find a new way forward as they are now, or if they even should.

And to do that, they have to speak. Zay clears his throat, eyeing his rain-soaked attire.

Zay: So, did you forget your umbrella, or were you just wandering around in the rain again --

Charlie: I don’t want to do this anymore.

Oh. Well, that can sure mean a lot of things, Charlie. Zay goes silent, watching him warily to see where this is going to go. He’s not even sure himself, really, what he wants to hear. Thankfully, Charlie didn’t seem intent on stopping it there, letting out a sigh and composing his thoughts before elaborating.

Charlie: I just mean… being a million miles apart. Existing like we’re in different worlds. Maybe when all this started we -- I -- needed that. To feel like I was doing what I set out to do, to become independent and figure all my stuff out on my own without bringing you down with me. Because that’s why I did it. I know you already know that, but it took me some time to stop convincing myself otherwise. [ a beat, looking down at his hands ] At first, I really thought I was doing the right thing. The thing that was best for everyone, that would allow me to fix everything. But I wasn’t really fixing anything. I think I was just doing what I always do. Running.

Zay listens patiently, not betraying anything. Letting Charlie have the time to work through it, to say what he needs to say. Charlie meets his eyes.

Charlie: And I know I screwed everything up, making those choices without you. [ shaky ] I know I hurt you, and… [ fiercely ] and I hate that I did. I hope you’ll believe that the last thing I ever, ever wanted to do was hurt you.

Zay’s calm demeanor cracks slightly, betraying that exact hurt flaring up again. But it doesn’t hurt the same way anymore. It’s healed over, a dull ache that with the right treatment and a little more time will recover.

Charlie dips his head down, doing his best to keep it together and not do something unhelpful like cry. He clears his throat, taking another deep breath and finding his resolve. He meets his eyes again, not letting himself run anymore.

Charlie: But I did. I did, and I’m sorry. Sincerely, from the bottom of my heart. I made some serious mistakes, and I know I’m going to have to live with them forever. You and I... we’re always going to carry that with us. We’re always going to have this history, the good and the bad. It’s never going to just go back to how it was before.

True enough. Zay nods, acknowledging it. Then, would they really want it to? Would they want to trade it all away for a fresh start, if it meant taking the good moments too?

Charlie: Even still… I wouldn’t change it. Because I can’t imagine what life would be like -- what I would be like -- if none of it ever happened. And no matter what’s changed since, the mistakes I’ve made… a million years ago, before all this started, I told you that I couldn’t lose you. That you were too important to lose. Now I know I was right. [ with a weak smile ] I don’t want to keep doing this, stumbling through life without you.

It’s getting harder and harder to remain neutral. Zay sniffs, swiping at his lips and trying to maintain his composure. Charlie isn’t looking away now, taking him in as much as he can while he makes his appeal.

Charlie: And maybe it’s selfish, which is exactly what caused all this in this first place, but I don’t care. If there’s one thing I’ll allow myself a little selfishness for, it’s this. That’s my new choice. You were one of my best friends, and you’re one of my favorite people. [ a beat ] And I totally get if this isn’t enough, or if it’s too much, and you’d just rather not. But is there any chance we can just… try? Try to find our rhythm again, be friends again? [ delicate ] Because I know the world needs you, but I really miss Zay Babineaux.

If Charlie uncharacteristically had a lot to say, then it only makes sense for Zay to have nothing. He’s speechless, absorbing everything Charlie said and trying to keep his emotions in check while grappling with that same question he’s been struggling with for weeks. If things aren’t completely broken, if they can be even remotely repaired, then is it worth the risk of letting him back in so they can fix it? Is that something he wants? Does it even feel possible, considering all their history and how frozen they’ve felt before?

But all of that was daunting when Charlie remained a question mark, when his feelings and opinions were kept behind that protective shell he works hard to maintain. Now, now that he’s said it and put himself out there, there’s no more guessing what Charlie wants. And when he knows where Charlie stands on it, on them, his decision is suddenly easy.

Zay: I could be down for trying. [ unable to hold back a small smile ] I’d really like that. Believe it or not, I missed Charlie Gardner.

The relieved smile that consumes Charlie’s features is instant, a laugh escaping him. Not because anything is funny, but because he can finally breathe again. The world has thawed around them, allowing time to resume and for both of them to move forward.

And what that means for them, well, only time will tell.

Riley slowly creeps her way back towards the booth, apologizing for interrupting but claiming she’s starving and absolutely needs to eat a fry or she’ll collapse. Charlie and Zay crack up, gesturing for her to rejoin them officially. She beams, feeding off their infectious energy that only freedom can conjure, and slides back into the booth next to Zay.

Charlie brings up an epic moment from their showdown performance and they quickly launch into excited chatter, the rapport between the three of them finally at ease. The way it was always meant to be -- hopefully, the way it will be forever more.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Isadora arrives at school bright and early, having come in with Eric rather than her classmates for a change. She knocks on Jack’s office door and enters as soon as she hears the beginnings of a response. Patience may not be her strong suit.

Jack is already busy with work, but sets his focus entirely on Isadora when she sits down across from him. Her face is set, that classic De La Cruz fierceness and determination clear.

Jack: Eric mentioned you wanted to see me. How can I help you, Miss De La Cruz?

Isadora: I’m here to discuss the possibility of setting up a scholarship fund in my mother’s name.

Jack’s eyebrows raise in surprise. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. Before he can respond to the proposition, Isadora continues.

Isadora: As you’re aware, I have inherited a large sum of money from my mother upon her passing.

Jack, gently: Isadora, you don’t need to be so formal with me. This isn’t a business meeting.

Isadora sighs in relief, allowing her posture to relax.

Isadora: I’ve been struggling with what to do with my mom’s money for a while now, and I realized when I was helping Katy and Maya move into their new apartment that I should use it in a way that Valerie would support. [ waiting for Jack to nod in acknowledgement before continuing ] My mom loved this school, how it fosters the next round of talent. She often dropped hints to me that she’d like to be a guest teacher more regularly --

Jack: [ caught off guard ] Did she? She never mentioned anything to me or Eric…

Isadora, fondly: It was part of her plan for moving to New York. But my point is, a scholarship fund is exactly what Valerie would want her money to go towards. Helping bring up the round of superstars, particularly ones like Maya who can’t necessarily access it on their own. That’s how she started out too, you know, not coming from much. She made her own luck, but I don’t think she’d even blink if she had the chance to help someone else achieve those same dreams without half the struggle. It feels right. Plus, it’ll help keep Lucas and Maya’s new legislation intact without having to rely on winning showdown every single year. Haverford are… tough competition.

That’s one way to describe them. Jack nods as he thinks it over, keen on the idea. He can’t see any reason why it can’t happen.

Jack: Sounds like an excellent idea to me. I’m sure Lucas and Maya will be pleased too. [ a beat ] Well done for coming to such a wise decision on your own. Valerie would be proud of you, I’m sure. And so am I.

Isadora is touched by the sentiments, and gets up from her chair to hurry around to his side of the desk. She gives him a quick hug, taking him by surprise.

Isadora: Thank you. For always being there for me. You and Eric mean a lot to me. [ a beat ] Well, um… bye. I guess.

She offers him an awkward wave as she walks back around his desk and towards the door. Jack is still frozen in surprise from Isadora’s hug and gratitude, knowing full well how much that means. He smiles at her, happy that she seems to trust him.

Jack’s uplifted mood doesn’t last long though. Yancy appears in the doorway just as Isadora is leaving, the two of them nearly bumping into each other. He shoots a subtle glare at her, but she doesn’t back down easily, so she glares right back at him until she passes.

Yancy: Quite the attitude on that one. Seems that might be a trend here at Adams.

Jack: Looks can be deceiving. Isadora just helped arrange for a fund to support the new scholarships in full, for many, many years. [ pointedly ] If humanity has any hope, I believe it’s in the youth. They certainly demonstrate much greater compassion than I’ve observed lately.

Yancy: Oh, then I suppose we both have good news, then.

Yancy clasps his hands together, looking all too pleased to be delivering this news. Jack braces himself for the worst.

Yancy: I submitted my report last week, and the board has reached their verdict. Effective January 1st, the role of principal will officially be open to apply for at Adams Academy for the Arts. I myself am planning to submit for consideration -- I think I could do more here than the school board at this point, considering the disastrous status of the school at present.

Jack’s heart sinks. He’s not being fired, but it’s al\most worse this way, dangling it in front of his face and making him do tricks like a show pony to prove he deserves to keep the position. He’s out of words, clenching his jaw and choosing not to give Yancy the satisfaction of a response. But he hardly needs one -- Yancy’s smugness is detectable from a mile away.

Yancy: You are, of course, welcome to reapply to keep your position, Jackson. In fact, I encourage it -- the board deserves the opportunity to reject you outright. [ a beat ] Until then, I suggest you start considering alternatives. You may very well be saying goodbye to Adams with your precious senior A class by the time this school year concludes.

With that, there’s nothing left to say. Yancy spins and leaves Jack to grapple with this info bomb on his own, at least giving him the dignity of reacting on his own.

Jack gets to his feet, closing the door behind Yancy. Then he finds himself slowly leaning against it, like all the energy has been zapped right out of him. His jaw twitches, eyes glossing over, like everything he’s been balancing and building up barricades against for years is about to break through and totally overrun him…

But he takes a deep breath, steels himself, and releases it with a sigh. Right now, there’s work to be done. Things to see through. And when the time comes to face the prospects, well, he’ll deal with it then.

Straightening up and clearing his throat, Jack moves back to his desk and settles in his chair. Back to work, doing what needs to be done as principal.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The A class is gathered for their first class since the weekend, all still chatty and buzzy with excitement from their victory. They’re up on the stage, chatting in small clusters about their performance and complimenting one another on their finest moments. Dylan and Asher in particular are huddled with Jade, gossiping about what happened with Nigel and what she thinks their first date is going to be.

But they snap back to attention when Harper and Shawn enter, the former enthusiastically taking the stage and greeting them as the Manhattan Showdown champs. This earns a loud cheer, Harper offering her own applause and letting them soak up the pride. Then she goes on to explain just how proud of them she is, how inspired she is by what they pulled off, and how remarkably moving it was to watch them come together to create something irrefutably them.

Harper: As you all surely remember, I was a bit out of my element when I came here last year. I thought I knew Triple A, but you all were another brand entirely. And you didn’t make easy on me -- or yourselves -- so I always wondered how you’d manage to pull this off. Now I realize it was silly of me to doubt. You, the senior A class, are full of unexpected surprises -- and I think that might just be your greatest strength.

Hear, hear! As for assignments this week, it’s the last week before winter break, so Harper admits she doesn’t really know what they should do either. After such a crazy few weeks, she feels like they’ve been tested enough.

As it turns out, maybe no reason is exactly the thing they need to perform right now. Riley says as much, sharing her thinking that while the rush of the last few weeks have been exciting, it’s been a minute since any of them just got to sing for the joy of it. Which is a shame, a travesty, considering that’s why all of them are at this school, in this place, together. Love of the art.

So that’s what they do. For the first time in months, the A class breaks into song because they want to. Because they can. Because it unites all of them, even when there’s no pressure or thing to fight for.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “To Noise Making (Sing)” as performed by Hozier || Performed by AAA Seniors

Riley kicks us off, singing happily to her classmates as she stands at the center of the stage. She makes her way around and shares a little moment with all of them, gradually pulling all of them into the harmonies, until she’s got the collective singing along. From there, her classmates step up to share focus, Zay, Maya, Isadora, Chai, and Yindra just a few of the notable ones to take a solo for a couple lines. Farkle takes the bridge, accepting an affectionate side hug from Riley as he does.

Harper and Shawn watch from the back of the front center section, swaying and grooving along. Eric has come to join them, but he can tell something is missing. He glances over his shoulder towards the doors, looking for Jack, but he’s nowhere to be found.

Then the A class comes together, all making their way into a closer formation at center stage. Nigel takes Jade’s hand and pulls her gently into the group, twirling her under his arm. Riley makes sure Lucas gets included in the throng, though this time he hardly seems reluctant, throwing his arm around her shoulders. He’s not singing, mind you, but here’s there in the moment with the rest of them.

And that’s where we leave them as we close out this half-season. The united A class, exhausted but still going strong, vindicated victors, brimming with unbelievable potential for the future.

Can’t wait to see what happens next.

END OF EPISODE.

#308 #episodes #S3 #like... wow y'all. we made it #IM SO HAPPY FOR Y'ALL TO EXPERIENCE IT. HAVE FUN #<33333

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saikagerights · 3 years

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Update: ”I Know What We’re Going To Do Today!”

Howdy Guys!

I hope you didn’t miss me too much. Yesterday, I was suddenly reminded of all of the work I left unfinished back in August. What I also realized is that I never posted the last thing I wrote before my absence.

I’ll be frank:

These past few months have been pretty strenuous for multiple reasons, and I haven’t found the proper time nor the inspiration to sit down and write more of the journal. In fact, the last oneshot I wrote was directly inspired by art that took ahold of me right at the beginning of the semester.

Besides the world constantly being on fire in 2020, the problems with my stomach hit a wall in August. I had multiple different tests done to try and find the problem, but there was no diagnosis in the end. My doctor prescribed that I start taking natural remedies to try and ease my sickness, and so far..... It’s been working! I’ve actually had an improvement in my health since then. I started taking probiotic vitamins in the morning and drinking kombucha, and now my persistent nausea during the day has disappeared. I’m down to taking one nexium before I go to bed, which is great because this medication was initially prescribed for twice a day.

School, has been interesting so far. It’s my first true semester deep into my music education degree, and I find myself struggling in certain areas due to the pandemic. Some classes are made more difficult to achieve in, while others make it hard to attend consistently. However, I’ve been keeping my head above water relatively well regardless of that. Work......I can’t say that I’m too satisfied with my current employment. If you read my notes on AO3, you knew that the summer was about readjusting to work amid the pandemic, which went over with ups and downs, but more often the latter. I realize now that after 3 years, I am not making enough money to be dealing with the type of work environment I am currently in. Many of the coworkers that I had come to realize as family have left or plan on leaving as well because they feel the same. I gave an ultimatum to my manager that I need to get my much needed promotion and raise or I am walking out before the holiday season, which for a retail store is major crunch time. In this department is where I find the most stress, as it is transitional period. I am in the midst of finding employment elsewhere, which can hopefully give me a much larger paycheck that can help boost my savings and support my college fees.

Free time is spent prepping. Whether it is singing, or practicing another instrument for my methods courses, or even supplemental music theory, I am in a constant state of prep work. And for watching or reading anything, there’s been a lot of comfort shows and not too much else. I took a tiny break from anime and started watching more western television. One thing that my coworkers have been wanting me to watch for ages has been Stranger Things, which I’ve enjoyed a lot so far. I took a short break from it after the slog fest that was the 2nd season, and am now on Season 3. I got access to Amazon Prime Video, so I finally watched the anime adaptation of Wotakoi, a manga I really love, and recently began watching Blade of the Immortal, which is very bloody and very interesting. But above all else, my general mindset this fall has been around one thing and one thing alone: Phineas & Ferb

A cartoon that has been one of my favorites since I was 6 years old has recently resurged in my life and has overtaken my attention once again. What was meant to be my comfort show of the lockdown during the spring has become my comfort show of the fall semester, turning into a massive hyperfixation that has overriden my thought process. Don’t worry, I didn’t go that deep. I just might’ve written 3k words of an analytical piece for the show’s emotional finale, “Act Your Age.” But I stuck true to my morals and didn’t read any fanfiction (this time). This laser focus on the show is actually 5 years late, as I was in the thralls of a fixation when the series ended back in 2015 just as I was discovering Steven Universe, which was the series that won my attention for the next year before I was captured by anime in highschool. But now, I’ve decided to take a break from it until Christmas, as I didn’t watch either of the show’s Christmas specials during my 3 month fling. Everything has connected to this show, and I mean everything, including my own musical development which I really don’t want to go into detail with.

But today, the dreaded Election day in my country, I’ve finally found the resolve to come back to writing Saiino related things. Last night, I took a step back and began to reread my journal to re-immerse myself within my ideas, which ended up being a fantastic idea because it actually made me realize that I needed to change the perspective of the next entry. Along with that came my idea for the prompts in Yamanaka Week 2021. I actually have decided that my participation will follow it’s own running theme that coincides with my journal while also following some of the prompts. They will all be centered around 1 particular headcanon, so I hope you aren’t too dulled with my idea. It will start with my next oneshot chapter for the Sai Journal. As exciting as it is however, I will not be able to start working on this until I can clearly see the end of this semester. Be on the look out for my oneshot, “Technical Difficulties,” and any more updates about Yamanaka Week, because they are coming. I have to go to a zoom meeting for a class, so I will end it here.

Until Next Time

- Saikage

#saiino #yamanaka week 2021 #InoSai #sai yamanaka #Ino Yamanaka #Sai Journal #Sai Journal update

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lifeisbooksandcats · 3 years

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Since posting on tumblr feels like just screaming into the void; where maybe someone might throw a glance your way to see if maybe you’re both screaming about the same thing, but at the end of the day, no one is really paying attention to you..and I feel like that’s what makes me feel like I can post this. Because it’s not something I can say out loud, not really, not yet. Except to my fiancée because it’s something we’ve talking about for a while. This is going to be long, I’m certain of it, and it’s going to be rambley because I’ve been trying to put my thoughts into words and those words into coherent...anythings...and it just isn’t going to be in any sort of order. I’m not expecting anyone to read it and I’m hoping the read more button actually works on mobile. If not, then I’m sorry, you’ll be scrolling for a while.

I don’t know how valid people feel self-diagnosis is, but I honestly feel like I fall somewhere on the autism spectrum. And that’s something I’ve thought about myself since my first year of college. Someone in a communications class I was taking did a presentation on autism, and throughout the entire thing all I could think was how much everything resonated with me. So that’s, since the fall semester of 2009, this has been something I’ve quietly thought about myself and wondered and honestly just been pretty sure of. That’s 12 years this fall, and I still can’t bring myself to say it?? And I think it’s a good bit because I’ve been asked so many times throughout my life if I’m autistic - by family members, by friends, by a college roommate, by people living on the same floor as me at college - and it’s ALWAYS been (or at least felt like to me) in some sort of negative way. And I don’t want to apologize for being myself, but fuck it’s just hard sometimes???

When I walk into a room, especially one I’m not familiar with, my first instinct is to look for the exits and figure out how I can get out of there if it gets too loud/too hectic/too EVERYTHING and I start to panic. And if I’m in a situation where I can’t leave, I have this little clear stone that I play with in my hand, just something to focus on to help keep me just a little bit calmer. When that doesn’t work, it’s like my mind just...goes. I don’t know how to explain it; physically I’m still there, but mentally...even if I wanted to pay attention to something, I literally could not. It happens the most when there’s too many sounds/voices/conversations happening at once, they all blend together, I can’t understand anything and after a second it feel like it’s all just muffled and I’m not there anymore, I feel so disconnected from my body, like there’s someone else controlling my brain and I’m just there watching. It happened at the zoo just recently, when we went into one of the restaurants for lunch. I was already panicked because of the number of people inside without masks on. From the second we walked in, everything from the number of people inside, to the volume, to the lights being too bright (but looking back, I feel like they were probably an appropriate brightness? It just felt too bright with everything else going on), to the lack of masks, everything was too much. My fiancée and I stood in line with one of our friends, waiting to order our food, and I stood there rocking slightly on my ankles and fidgeting with that little stone, just trying so desperately to calm my internal panic and to not “check out” mentally and to just appear “normal”. I stood there waiting for our food, rocking on my ankles, running my thumb along my fingertips, listening to the conversations all around me merging into one unintelligible mess and on the inside, full on panicking while hoping that from the outside, no one could tell. I got our food, set it on the table, and stepped into the bathroom to wash my hands, the quiet welcoming me like nothing else. I closed my eyes and just stood there, breathing, letting the warm water run over my hands like some kind of magic balm bringing me back down. I opened my eyes again, a woman with a toddler smiled at me like she knew - which made me worry again because it’s not something I want people to know because I don’t want to be different, I don’t want anyone to look at me differently. But at the same time, I do. I want to be able to stand up for myself and say “I literally physically cannot go into this loud, crowded restaurant because I’m autistic and it is so auditorily overwhelming in there.” And maybe that wasn’t even what her smile meant. Because I literally never know how people are feeling and I try to figure it out but honestly 90% of the time it’s just guesswork.

But it’s not just that. It’s not just the panic that sets in when it’s too crowded and the sounds are too much. It’s the fact that as a kid, I was never “just” a fan of something I liked. I either didn’t care, or it was an all-consuming obsession that basically became a personality trait. I was a fan of Aaron Carter, but god forbid anyone ask me a question about his music or anything — because whether or not you were interested (and unless you flat out told me you were uninterested, I literally could not tell), I was going to info-dump everything onto you. I could tell you what time he was born, how many minutes were between him and his twin sister, which concerts his sister Leslie sang at (because she also had a small music career), at what point in his career he actually started singing live instead of lip syncing most of the time...

And speaking of info-dumping. If I couldn’t info dump to someone, I would write it. As a child - second, third, fourth grade...- I wrote essays upon essays on things I was interested in just because I could. Just everything I knew on the topic, thrown out into words either handwritten as a younger kid or typed as I got older. When I was in about fifth or sixth grade, when Harry Potter was HUGE and all my friends were also into Harry Potter, I couldn’t tell everything I knew to my friends because they already knew a lot of it...and so as a kid, maybe a fifth grader, I wrote a six (maybe seven?) page essay - single spaced - with everything I knew about the series/the author/everything. Before the last book came out, I filled an entire spiral bound notebook with my theories for how the series would end and WHY I thought what I thought.

My first NOW That’s What I Call Music CD was Now 14. I was in 7th grade and I could tell you exactly what order the songs were in. That was something I did to calm myself down back then; listing the songs on that album over and over and over again, always in the right order.

From about 7th grade until high school graduation, I brought and ate the exact same thing for lunch every single day. I said it was because I liked it, but I really didn’t. I didn’t like the Oscar Mayer precooked bacon that I would put on my BLT. I didn’t like the texture, half the time I couldn’t bring myself to eat it and picked it off my sandwich. But the thought of changing it??? That wasn’t even something I would have considered because somehow in my mind, changing it was worse than eating it. Make that one make sense.

I love routines and schedules and things staying the same, and get annoyingly stressed out when things/my schedule changes. One little change or one little thing out of the ordinary and it’s like I forget how to function for the day. Everything seems off. And I hate it. Because I KNOW that it shouldn’t matter, but it does. Half days and two hour delays at school growing up?? Those stressed the FUCK out of me because the order of the day would be different. I loved school and loved learning, but those days I felt physically ill over the thought of going to school. Field trip days were okay though because I knew they were coming and I had plenty of time to mentally prepare myself. I remember as a child asking my teachers (on multiple occasions) for the itinerary for a field trip so I could memorize it and know exactly what to expect and when for the day.

There are times that my fiancée will turn on the tv for “background noise” while she watches videos on her phone, and I wish I could describe what I mean when I tell her that there’s “too many sounds”. Because between the tv, her phone, the hum of the refrigerator in the other room, the neighbors, cars driving by, the cats playing, the ceiling fan...I don’t know how else to describe it other than exactly that — too many sounds. And it gets to be too much. So I have to put headphones in and listen to music to drown it all out and refocus.

I’ve only just recently been able to put a word to what I now know is poor executive function. As much as I loved school, I could NOT do assignments until the day they were due. I could start on something days before it was due, but I couldn’t work on it. I couldn’t focus on it. I couldn’t get myself to work on it. But the morning it was due??? I could whip up a paper that I knew would earn an A just hours before needing to turn it in. I prided myself on that ability, but looking back it was most definitely poor executive function. If I couldn’t finish something that morning, which was a rare occurrence, I would lie - I’d look “everywhere” for my assignment and “panic” because I “couldn’t find it” and because I was a good student, I got away with it. Every. Single. Time. Even with the hard-ass teachers who no one could get away with things on. And magically by the end of the day, I would swing back by that teacher’s classroom to give them my assignment that I had finally “found”.

I remember sitting on the kitchen floor of our apartment as a kid and tracing my fingers along the lines on the floor where the tiles met. I remember the pattern was brown/white/brown/white, but there was one spot on the floor that made me so irrationally frustrated because two tiles were swapped; instead of the same pattern as the rest of the floor, this one spot was brown/white/white/brown/brown/white. I remember pointing it out and my mom asking me why I had even paid any attention to that. I didn’t know why, I just did. I remember her telling me that it was stupid to let it bother me and to just let it go, but I couldn’t. I stopped mentioning it, but right up until we moved out of that apartment, I couldn’t even look at that spot on the floor without getting frustrated by it. There’s more than that. But that was one of the first things I thought of.

I’ve been watching a lot of Yo Samdy Sam’s videos on YouTube, and especially her videos “Autism symptoms in GIRLS” and “Could YOU be autistic? (and not know)” and I just... I feel that. Everything she says, I feel that. I watch them just thinking “that’s me. That’s me.” the entire time. She mentions sucking on her hair as a kid, and I did that CONSTANTLY. My hair was forever in my mouth. And now that I’m an adult, I don’t suck on my hair, but my sweatshirt strings are always in my mouth. Obviously there’s more than that, but that was one that hit me hard because I didn’t realize that wasn’t just something everyone did as a kid. I didn’t realize not everyone couldn’t stand still and always had to be fidgeting or moving slightly, whether it was rocking on my ankles, running my thumb over my other fingers, crossing and uncrossing my toes inside my shoes. I didn’t realize not everyone had the same shitty executive functioning skills as me.

And it’s like... I’m so sure that’s me. I’m so sure that I am autistic. I know it. But it’s like...is getting a diagnosis at this point in my life going to change anything? I mean no, probably not, other than giving me that validation that I crave. I would feel valid when the world is too much/too big/too loud. I would have a reason for feeling the way I do and doing the things I do. So much of my life would make sense. But. I don’t know. I’m afraid I’ll try to get a diagnosis and have someone, some doctor or therapist or psychologist or someone tell me that I’m not. And then what? Then what is everything I’ve felt throughout my life? That’s what I’m afraid of, really. Because if I’m so sure of this and then some professional says “no that’s not it”, then what?

#personal #just venting I guess #not venting that’s not the right word #just throwing my thoughts on here and trying to make sense of them because it’s my blog and I can #autism #autism in adults #actually autistic

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gregharper319 · 3 years

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Living LFS Social Media Strategy

We’ve reached the end of this course (plus a little) and I’ve learned a lot about how social media can be not only an important part of a non-profit business, but an overall strategy to drive towards our organization’s goals.

At Living LFS, we encourage, empower, and educate those living with Li-Fraumeni Syndrome (LFS) by connecting them with care, resources, and others who are Living LFS.

Li-Fraumeni Syndrome (LFS) is linked to a mutation in the TP53 tumor suppressor gene. There are many types of TP53 mutations. People with this mutation have a higher risk of developing cancer over their lifetime. LFS affects each individual differently, even within the same family. Some families with LFS have higher rates of cancer incidence, while others do not. Nearly 100% of women with LFS get cancer in their lifetimes. Men have a 70% or greater chance. It’s our mission to make sure families living withing the LFS blast radius get the care, information, and sense of community that they need. Receiving an LFS diagnosis is both devastating in its impact and isolating in its rarity.

How does this align with Social Media? Our founder Jen Mallory was diagnosed with Li-Fraumeni Syndrome and metastatic breast cancer in 2012. At the time, there were only thought to be 400 families with LFS in the world. Realizing the importance of connecting these isolated families together and advocating for this rare disease she started a Facebook Support Group in 2013. As the group grew, she founded Living LFS, and it was registered as a 501c3 non-profit in 2014.

Jen posted blogs, connected with other families, and built a board of directors. Together the board held fundraisers and sold branded merchandise. They began attending advocacy events in places like Rare Disease Week in Washington DC and provided travel scholarships to LFS specific events. Living LFS continued to grow but has gone through its ups and downs as its board of directors is made mostly of patients who are often “cancering”. Jen herself became sick stepped back from the posts, and stepped down as president of the organization. She left enormous shoes to fill and we needed a plan. That’s where this class came in.

The first thing that really opened my eyes was the TOFU, MOFU, BOFU marketing funnel.

After looking at the funnel the first thing that came to mind was the question “what are we actually trying to do?” or "What does conversion mean for us?”. After reflecting on it, to us, conversion means three things

1) Families found our support group and connected with others

2) A person donates

3) A person signs up for volunteering

The next step was to understand who exactly our customer was. When we started doing this we noticed a few things. First, the most active people in the group, on our social media pages, and within our volunteer ranks were women.

Second, the people were mainly from the United States but interestingly also in Australia and the UK.

And finally, we really did a terrible job at keeping track of who our donors were.

Overall the social media strategy will have two main paths. The first is to ensure that all of our social media accounts are pointing to our Facebook support groups.This ensures that the people with Li-Fraumeni Syndrome are connecting with other families and can get the information and care that they need. This also serves as the eco-system to pump all of our fundraising, campaigning, and other information through.

The second was ensuring that people found our website through google and that our website directed people to our volunteer signup, fundraising, support groups and donation pages.

Now that we evaluated who our end conversion customer was we decided to look at how we did against each of the items listed in the funnel at each of the steps. After going through the entire list we created actions which will translate into our 2021 goals.

Before even getting through the first layer of the funnel we can see how the number of blogs and our content has fallen off over the years.

The actions from the TOFU section were all around getting our content going and distributed through our social media channels described above.

We found that we had a very limited prescense on Twitter and zero existance on TikTok. Luckily during the semester we found a woman on Tiktok who has agreed to volunteer and we’re just launching our tiktok account. She has also agreed to take over our twitter account where there is a large medical community presence that we can leverage.

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A post shared by Living LFS - Li-Fraumeni (@livinglifraumeni)

The other part of the funnel which we addressed this November was going live with our new donor management platform called network for good. I realized that we have very limited data on our donors and that it was spread across many platforms including paypal, physical mail, facebook, and venmo. We consolidated all this data into one place. This also allows us to say thank you much easier.

In the MOFU section of the review we found that we really need to just broadcast the information that we have in a better way. We have a ton of content that sits and is stagnent. The new donor management platform will help us with email blasts for both new and old donors and famililes. We can build many of these actions into our board approved goals for the year.

In the final section we will focus on conversations. Once we have people funnelling into the group we need to take advantage of their willingness to help. We have tons of volunteers and have historically struggled to manage them. The new donation platform allows for peer to peer fundraising where people can manage their own fundraisers without the need of much assistance from the board.

So we have a plan for the future now. A plan that we will make sure that Jen’s vision guides every decision we make, but with a little more structure and thought behind it. On Saturday we had a memorial for Jen where all said goodbye but we know that her vision and passion to support those with LFS will carry on in everyone who is a part of Living LFS

#is6621

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elmentrysworld · 5 years

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In Sickness and in Health, ‘Till Death Do Us Part: Shouto Todoroki x Fem! Reader

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Oh good lord, I am SO sorry for the late request! D: University bit me hard in the ass this semester, but I finally got around to finishing this request. I sincerely hope you and everyone else enjoys this! Also if anyone wants to request anything, my rules and fandoms are in this post you can click on, or you can search the tag “rules” on mobile! Love you guys :’)

Type: One-Shot

Pairing: Todoroki x Fem! Reader

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia

Warning: Angsty angst is angsty angst (like, illness and all that comes with it). Real world AU with no quirks. Also, due to length (literally this passes 3000+ words), this post will have a “keep reading” line!

The hospital bed feels stiff and rigid under you as you lay down with your eyes staring up at the ceiling. You have started to lose count of how many days you’ve been in this hospital room. How long have you been this sick for?

Oh yeah, a little over 2 years.

Although your mind can’t keep track if it’s exactly 2 years or a few days past, you know that your mind is nearing the brink of insanity from numbness. In between the treatments of chemotherapy and people coming to see you with doe eyes laced with tears as they would claim that “things will get better” because you’re a fighter, you begin to call bullshit. If that was all so true, why did you make so little progress healing after your diagnosis? Then again, you remember that the day you got your diagnosis, the prognosis in itself was borderline hopeless to begin with.

“I’m sorry miss,” the doctor said with a grim expression, looking up at you from the papers with your examination results. The minute he gave you the results concluding that you did have the dreaded illness was the minute you felt your heart drop to the pits of your stomach, like you have just been transported to Hell and were being thrust into an icy pathway to misery.

The illness was hereditary – your mother died from it when you only in elementary school and your maternal relatives didn’t live much longer than she did, having had the same illness. How did you not come to expect it? Perhaps it was wishful thinking, that you would be one of the lucky ones like in those happy stories. However, the reasonable part of you knew you could no longer ignore the constant nosebleeds, coughing up blood and struggles with your breathing after a case of the common cold lasting longer than the normal 3-4 days. You knew it was a bad sign, but your optimistic side tried outweighing your reality with hopeful, fictional outcomes that it was all something fixable.

It was not fixable.

As you walked out of that doctor’s office and out into the April showers, your mind trying to process the little time you were going to have left, you struggled to find any sort of feeling inside of you as you went through your coat pockets and began dialling his number.

You knew he wasn’t going to have a great reaction.

“Hey, Shouto?” you said once your boyfriend picked up the phone, trying to keep a neutral tone of voice. “Can you meet me at my place tonight? I... I have something important to tell you.”

***

Shouto came over relatively quick, having been right at your door by the time you showed up waiting for you. When you needed – or simply wanted – to see him, he always made sure to either come early or at the very least arrive on the nose. When you would tease him about it, he would say something among the lines of “I want to make the most out of every minute I spend with you” or “I just couldn’t bare waiting to see you”. He was a cheesy, caring person at the core, but only you had access to that side of him.

As you got closer to the door leading into your apartment building, the hoodie of your sweater failing to keep you dry from the rain, you waved at the umbrella-holding man and gave him the best smile you could offer, receiving one from him in return and you took out your keys from your purse.

“How come you don’t have an umbrella?” he asked you off the bat as you shuffled between your selection of keys, finding the right one and unlocking the building door.

“I didn’t think it would rain this hard!” you laughed lightly, leading him inside towards your apartment and talking as you then opened your apartment door. “Plus I ended up taking the bus so it wasn’t as bad.”

“Yes, but what if you catch another cold?” he said in return and stepped inside with you, taking off his coat and hanging it in the front closet with your own. “You know how you get when you get sick.”

As he headed towards your petite but cozy living room, you froze and couldn’t help but simply stand there, wide-eyed in the pastel blue-walled room.

Sick. You couldn’t get anymore sick than you already are, can you? That’s what you wanted to scream out at him, but you couldn’t. The words were lodged; they didn’t want to come out.

The white and red-haired Todoroki paused, sensing you not following him over to the beige couch and turned to face you, only to rush over to you when he saw you fall down to your knees with your hands to mouth and tears beginning to fall down the corner of your eyes. As you could only hiccup and choke back on sobs you didn’t want to let out, he held you out in front of him in sheer concern, uncertainly clouding those grey and blue eyes of his. He called your name one, two, three times trying to get you to focus on him, but it took another two times for you to finally look directly into his eyes.

“What happened?” he asked you, trying to not show the overwhelming feeling of concern in his shaken tone of voice. “Was it your appointment today? If it’s another prescription you have to get it’s – ”

“I’m dying, Shouto!” you cried out into the nape of his neck, holding him close as you could no longer look into his eyes. “They – the doctors... they found the same illness my mom had. They said there was nothing they could do, Shouto! I’m going to die!”

His muscles felt tense under your touch, but in your sobbing and unstoppable tears falling down your cheeks you couldn’t care. You couldn’t hold back your own emotions anymore today. It felt never-ending.

All he could do was hold you and when your sobs faded into little hiccups, hold your chip up for you to look at him and promise you:

“I’m never leaving your side.” he said firmly, not showing his true thoughts. “Not today, not tomorrow. I am always here for you.”

Shouto Todoroki peeks into your room like he has done ever since your first day of hospitalization, lightly knocking on your door. He calls your name, drawing your attention and you offer him a tired smile. Even after being with him for nearly five years, you still get the warm feeling inside whenever he’s around; and you have been cherishing that feeling more and more these days.

“May I come in?” he asks.

“Do you really need to ask, love?” you chuckle, lifting your hand up and lightly gesturing for him to come in – even with the shooting pain in your arm that you try to ignore. He steps in and walks over to the chair next to your bed, sitting next to you and taking your hand into his own. His hands are warm to the touch, and you briefly close your eyes with a small smile on your eyes as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand, his eyes on your skin – which is growing paler and paler – and proceeds to form soothing circles on your skin.

“How have you been feeling?” he asks, looking back up at you.

“I’ve been worse.” you say. It isn’t exactly a lie: there have been days where you felt so bad that numbness and emptiness seemed like a form of relief in comparison. However, you keep your current numbness to yourself; Shouto already has enough going on in his home as it is and you don’t want to add onto his pile, considering your feeling that your condition already is becoming a chore.

You know he loves you. In fact, he has made it incredibly clear in your relationship that he loves you to death.

But you also know that Enji Todoroki doesn’t want his successor falling for an inferior, sickly girl. Even before your hospitalization, he never approved.

“This is who you want to carry on the Todoroki legacy by marriage?” The red-haired man said, incredulousness overly clear in his voice as he looked at you up and down. He looked back at his son, who only held onto your hand tighter and narrowed his eyes at his father, as though to tell him to watch his next choice of words.

“And what of it?” Shouto responded, eyebrow raised, testing the man in front of him.

“Shouto, you know how important carrying on the Todoroki name is.” Enji stated, firm and tense with his own narrowed pair of eyes giving you the occasional glare. “I expected you as future head to make... better choices.”

You couldn’t hold back your heart from sinking down to the pits of your stomach. You knew the man to be harsh, but to be dismissed as a bad option was not exactly what you had in mind.

“Father, she is not just a choice!” Shouto hissed back, wrapping a protective arm around your shoulder. “She is who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I love her more than words can describe and she loves me like no one has. She respects me as a person, as a human. I will not spend the rest of my life with anyone else!”

Enji simply held a pause, as though spending a silent moment condemning the pair of you before responding:

“How romantic.” he spat out. “Too bad it serves no practicality to your life. You’ll love her for maybe a few more moments, maybe a couple more years and then lose her one way or another anyway. Look at her, Shouto: you even said so yourself she often gets sick, and she looks sickly and weak. Is that really someone we need to carry on our bloodline? And that is if she even can carry children to begin with, in her physical state. Face it, Shouto. If you really want to become head of my company, it’s either you choose this company or her.”

It only takes Shouto a moment as he takes a look at you, taking in your beauty and wiping a stray tear away from your eye before he looks back at his father with a glare of his own.

“I choose my future wife.”

“My father made arrangements for me without my consent.” Shouto lets out to you. You raise an eyebrow, curiousity building up.

“What arrangements?” you asked.

“He... he wants me to marry the head’s daughter.”

Your eyes instinctively widen from the news. Ever since Shouto said he would choose you over becoming head of the Todoroki Company, Enji has become relentless on making his son change his mind and still dragging him into business meetings, even after 2 years of the same exact response of his son not wanting to take part. It shouldn’t be surprising that he would pull this kind of stunt and yet... a huge part of you just doesn’t know how to respond to a news like this.

“Oh?” you let out meekly, looking down at your hands, not sure what else to say.

“Earlier today, he called me into a meeting.” Shouto begins explaining. “I thought it was some sort of business deal to be made with another company, so I went in and it was just my father, another man and a woman around my age... my father set me up with her and said that if I am to become head, I will marry the girl and secure company relations.”

There is an awkward pause as you take all this in. Normally, you would have flipped out over this type of news, try to find a solution to this problem. Normally, you would have probably gone to Enji to tell him to suck it, that you and Shouto are happy and if his son chose to be happy over becoming head of the family business, he better respect that decision. Normally, you would have fought for your right to be happy with your fiancé.

So why is your stubbornness and strong will not there when you need it? Where is your passion?

Before you can stop yourself, you slowly look up at your love, your mind blank as you speak:

“Maybe marrying the girl is the best thing to do.”

Shouto looks at you, eyes wide with shock before they switch to having a look of horror, like you just suggested for him to massacre a town.

“What?” he says in a sort of gasp. “How can you even think to suggest that?!”

“Shouto – ”

“You know I will never marry a woman I don’t love. You know how much I love you; I will never leave your side! No company can get between us, you know that – ”

“Shouto, please!” you blurt out full blast as you lose your self control, letting the tears run down your face. It puts his outburst at a halt, allowing you to continue after a moment’s pause:

“I don’t have much time left.” you admit, looking away from him and out the window that brings in ironic rays of sun into the room. “The doctors said the treatment could only do so much... my illness has spread further into my body and now, everything just hurts. They estimate that I only have a week or so left.”

You look back at him, the tiniest smile you could muster being on your face as you try not to continue crying.

“I didn’t know how to tell you without hurting you. You don’t deserve to live alone, Shouto. Maybe you’ll end up falling in love with this girl, have healthy children and carry on your family legacy like your father wants. You never know, Shouto, it may be for the best – ”

“No.”

“Shouto – ”

“No. I refuse to give up on us so easily.”

You look back down at your hands. Up until now, you never really noticed how skeletal and pale your hands have become. How much weight have you lost? You aren’t sure. In fact, you aren’t sure of anything anymore; at this point you can’t focus or think so easily.

You look back up when you hear your name being said, the look in Shouto’s eyes filled with a determination you never thought you would see in your lifetime.

“Let’s get married.” he says, gently taking your hands in his. For the first time in a while, you feel genuine shock over this proclamation.

“S-Shouto?” you whisper. “Are you serious? Ever after what I just said – ”

“Exactly. If you have such a small amount of time, we can’t waste time. This is our chance to be happy together, to make the most of it. To hell with my father and the company, working for him will never make me happy. Hell, you make me happier than I have ever been, even now! I said I would never leave your side. I intend on keeping that promise.”

You decide to go along with not thinking it through. It’s like he said: there’s not much time left, and you deserve to be happy even for a little while, right?

“Ok.” you said, a wider smile than before plastered on your face. “Let’s do it.”

***

It is as beautiful of a wedding as it can be, especially in a white-walled hospital room that you’ve been confined to. You manage to find a simple but comfortable white dress for the occasion, one that is easy to get out of so you could switch back into your scrubs afterwards, and Shouto decides to match the theme of simplicity, opting for a white button up and black pants and shoes. He looks as dashing as the first day you met him, and he makes sure to let you know that you look as beautiful as a goddess. Even though you are too weak to do a “walk down the aisle”, your father – who got ordained for this day – makes sure to reassure you that you look radiant and smiles as he gives his blessing to your union, proceeding to marry you two.

Your vows to each other are sweet and make you feel fuzzy and warm inside. You make sure to avoid the whole “in sickness and in health” and “’till death do us part”: you don’t need to rub it in. Instead, you focus on the good you cherish, and the bad you managed to push through to be the couple that you are in the present. You gush over your rings – simple, glistening silver bands that fit snug on his and your ring finger – and as your put the rings on each other’s fingers, you feel a certain sense of comfort that you hadn’t felt for a little while.

You’re finally pronounced husband and wife and it feels like your kiss solidifies this new union.

You don’t need a fancy reception – you don’t necessarily have the energy for that either. Instead, you opt for some stargazing together in the hospital garden. You can’t help the goofy smile on your face when you notice the rose petals leading to the bench. It takes a little while for you to walk over to the bench, with your weakened legs, but with your now husband holding your hand and guiding you, you manage to make it and sit down next to him.

You’ve stargazed with him in the past, but you never really noticed until now just how much he glows under the starlight.

“The night really is beautiful.” you sigh contently, your hand intertwined with his.

“It really is.” he says with a smile of his own. “It’s definitely fitting for a day like this.”

You don’t need a word exchange. You’re both perfectly happy enjoying each other’s company during a peaceful evening, looking up at all the constellations formed in the night sky in comfortable silence. Who knew that the stars in the sky can form such fascinating and interesting shapes? In any case, the cool air feels nice, not chilling you to the bone.

“Shouto?”

“Yes?”

“I wish this moment could last forever...” you say, closing your eyes as you lean on his shoulder with his hand linked to yours. “If only this could never end.”

He looks at you, his gaze soft and his smile small and with a hint of sadness to it and he gently squeezes your hand.

“Let’s focus on the present.” he says after a moment of silence. “Tonight is about us and our happiness.”

“Yeah.” you say contently and entertain yourself with looking at his fingers, playing with them and looking at his ring finger.

Later that night, when he brings you back to your room to be cared for by the nurses, you call out his name before he can exit and he turns to face you with a raised eyebrow.

“Smile for me.” you say with a big, sheepish smile of your own. Though initially stunned, he gives you a matching smile and you can’t help but giggle in return.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, my love.” he says, waving lightly and he leaves.

The minute he leaves, it is as though your body gives up the last bit of strength it could muster and you fall over on the bed, everything inside of you tightening. You can’t tell if it’s because you’ve been hiding your struggle to stay strong all day, the ticking time bomb inside of you or because of the actual shutting down of your body taking place, but it hurts.

All you know is that it won’t hurt for long. And what you know is that you are thankful to have seen your husband, your lover smile for one last time.

You don’t pay mind to the nurses and doctors rushing to your side, trying to keep you conscious through any ways necessary – well, you can’t even if you tried.

All you can focus on is the fading image of Shouto Todoroki smiling for you, all as you yourself fade away into nothingness.

***

A week later after finding out you were placed on life support, your husband still remains by your side, his own eyes dried up and red, swollen from having let himself cry at your bedside for days. His father tries to convince him to leave the room, even for a bit of fresh air, but the older man only gets shut down with venom laced in his son’s voice.

A week later, Shouto has had to make a decision: try to hold onto non-existing hope and keep listening to the faint heart line, or finally to let you go.

As the nurse and doctor come up to him with a look of sympathy in their eyes, the nurse leans over to him, knowing Shouto’s final decision.

“Mr. Todoroki, are you ready?” she asks – not out of curiosity, but out of obligation. He looks up at her, your cold hand in his hands, and his eyes betray the calm demeanour he was so used to presenting.

“No.” he says bluntly. “But when will I ever be? You can go ahead.”

He can’t look at you when the life support is finally disconnecting, especially as he feels you fade away for good. All he knows is that the night you were married was truly the night you two bid your farewells.

The library was busy on the day you two first met. Finals were taking place and you had been in the same economics class. However, you only got to speak to him for the first time when you noticed him sitting alone, studying at a table surrounded only by books filled with numbers and statistics. You didn’t know why, but you didn’t want him to be alone. You had a feeling there was a lot to uncover with this attractive boy and you were going to make a friend out of him.

You decided to go up to him and nudged him, catching him by surprise.

“Hey, Shouto Todoroki, right?” you whispered to him with your best smile. He looked up at you in shock but quietly nodded in response. You held your own books in one arm and held out your other hand for a handshake, giving your name in introduction.

“It’s nice to finally speak to you.” you said in a quiet chuckle as you shook hands.

“Pleasure is mine.” he said in response, tone low. When you nudged to the chair across him and gave a look, he nodded and you sat down, placing your books down. Your smile stayed on your face, radiant as ever, and you leaned on your arms, which rested on the table.

“So tell me, Shouto, do you believe in love at first sight?”

“E-excuse me?” he said with wide eyes, to which you quietly giggled in response.

“I’m messing with you,” you replied in amusement. “But I will say this: I would love to get to know you.”

Without giving him much time to reply, you take a piece of paper and write your cell number on it, passing it over to him and getting up with your books.

“Feel free to text me whenever!” you said and walked out the library, not being able to shake off the smile on your face and not truly caring if you possibly made a fool of yourself.

After all, you only live once right?

Within 5 minutes you got a text from an unknown number, making you blush and let out a light laugh:

So, what if I told you I do believe in love at first sight? – Shouto Todoroki

#my fanfiction #writing #writing requests #boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #reader #reader insert #fem! reader #one-shot #angst #bnha angst #todoroki #todoroki shouto #shouto todoroki #todoroki x reader #shouto

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dondancedon · 5 years

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The Process of Making My First Full Length Piece

The process Psycho-Control started second semester of my junior year of college. I was taking a composition course, and the first piece that I made in the class was a piece called Tic which personified the different tics that I had due to my tourettes syndrome diagnosis. Each tic was outlined through movement or verbal expression (or a combination of both). I walked around to a four point circle like a clock, and each point was a different tic. I was intrigued by this idea of creating movement and creating a piece based from my mental disorder because it’s something that I always had a hard time explaining to people verbally in terms of what’s really going on with me mentally, and I felt like me conveying my thoughts about my tourettes through movement was conveyed thoroughly enough that people in the class understood what I wanted to say and what I wanted to convey through pure movement. So after the summer ended, I decided that I wanted to make an even larger piece dealing with my mental disorders and my mental health. I was also throwing other topics in the idea pool what I wanted to do for my larger piece, but the mental health/mental disorders idea never went away as I was going through my process over the summer of 2018.

During that summer, I was living in Los Angeles as I was working for an internship, and the building that I was staying at luckily had a small dance studio in there. So every chance I got, I would go to the second floor of the building to see if the studio was free, and if it was free I would go in there to workshop movement with some music that I think I would use for the larger piece. Everytime I would get off work, wake up in the morning, or even on my free days off I would be in that studio rehearsing and workshoping. By the end of the summer, I had one song solidified if I did use the mental health idea, but I knew that it would have to be workshop with the rest of the piece in the long run to see if it actually fit. That song was Wonder by Skin&Soap, and I knew that the skeleton of the piece was going to be over reproducing solos while a chorus of dancers either are dancing in the background or around the stage. That part was solidified in my mind.

As it was time to come back to school, I knew that there were two dancers who were going to be away first semester, and I needed them in this piece. Originally I thought that I was going to start working on a couple of the sections of the piece with other dancers who were still on campus at the time, but first I had to stop my fast process and slow it down a bit because I technically did not choose my topic yet at this time. After meeting with my advisor and mentor for my directed study, I decided that I was going to produce a solo that would be auditioned for the school’s fall dance concert as a student piece, and the solo that I would produce would be a section in the larger piece that I would create that next semester. Also I decided that the solo would be performed by myself because I also needed some alone time to really talk to myself on what I wanted to do, and what I wanted to say in this piece. By the end of September, I decided that I was going to talk about mental health and mental disorders from a personal perspective because I felt like I had a lot more to say when it comes to this topic compared to the other topics that I passed around in my head, and the movement flowed out my body more while I was creating movement for this topic compared to any other topic.

The piece that I ended up creating was called War Between Me & It (2018), and it was a piece about the personification of my depression. I wore a long grey skirt that had a lot of movement with a black corset around my abdomen. The reason why I wore that was because I wanted to show the skirt as depression itself and how it is physically constraining me, and how it is this entity being with the fullness of the skirt. Throughout the piece I danced in a huge center/center spotlight that I did not go out of. I tried to get out of it as I reached out, kicked out, ran around the perimeter while tripping over the skirt that was constraining me, but I could never get out of the circle. The circle personified the personal jail that you’re in when you’re dealing with depression and the want to really get out of it, but you can’t. The piece ended with me ripping off the skirt/corset in a tangent which finally released me from the depressed state and I was able to walk out of the circle while gasping for each breathe as the fight to get of out the skirt was hard and torturous. The music that I used for this piece was the opening of a song called Nobody Else by Low Roar which was one of the songs that I discovered, and was workshopping with over the summer prior in LA. The other song that I used for the piece was called Lift Me by the Bengsons.

After the semester was over, it was time to start getting ready for this larger piece of work that I was about to embark on. Over the winter break I started outlining all of the things that I went through mentally in my life which included Tourrettes, Depression, Anxiety, PTSD, Alcohol/Drug abuse, and Suicidal Thoughts. For each micro-topic, I pretty sure I had a full 20 mins piece outlined in my head on what I wanted to do and say, but I knew that I wanted this larger piece to at the most be 40 minutes long. So by the time we came back to school, I was ready to start choreographing. The two dancers that I was waiting for to come back told me that they were excited to go along this journey with me. I ended up asking two other dancers who I’ve been working with since I was a freshman, and they both said yes. And I ended up asking three other people who I’ve never choreographed on to see if they were interested. All three said yes, but one unfortunately had to drop out of the process. The first rehearsal, I actually spent with a freshman named Erica. I ended up giving the solo that I worked on last semester to Erica because even though they were a freshman, their maturity level was through the roof, and I knew that they would be able to convey everything that I wanted to be conveyed in that piece. Also I didn’t want to perform that piece again personally because it was emotionally draining for me, and I needed a release from it after performing it first semester.

During that rehearsal we started looking at how we can make the movements that I created for my body start to fit Erica’s body. We both move differently with some similarities so at the end of the day I wanted to make the movement phrases feel as comfortable as possible for them as it did me when I performed them. About half of the piece became modified, and by the end of the first rehearsal, Erica and I finished the piece. From there on out our meetings were for running the piece, seeking out questions that need to be answer, cleaning the piece, and solidifying performance quality.

The first group rehearsal I ended up deciding the restage a piece that I already created in the past called Smother (2014) which dealt with depression at the time I created it when I was 17. However I wanted to put a slight twist to it. I wanted to create a piece about Trauma and the way we store trauma into our bodies especially if we don’t know how or where to release it properly, and also the ways we actually release trauma. So the second part of the section which I like to call “Smother release” was actually the skeleton of Smother. I say skeleton because if you look at the finished product of Smother from before I restaged it to now then it may look like a completely different piece. A lot of the movements in the original Smother were very ballet technique heavy and sort of a competition dance routine as at the time I created it the first time, I was working with mostly competition dancers. But in between the years of 2014 and 2019, I’ve been through a lot of life (a little bit too much life if you ask me), my experiences have changed the ways a view curtain things, my dancing has matured, my choreography has matured; so in order to put Smother in this larger piece, that piece must also mature too. A lot of the choreography for Smother is now more grounded instead of uplifted, there’s more modern heavy movement with flickers of ballet in it as well. I think that it was a decision that I loved the most out of the whole process with keeping Smother because it really showed where I was at in my life of choreography, and where I’m going. The first section of Trauma was then created as I was working with one of the dancers and I started to dive into the trauma that I was personally going through with being a victim of sexual assault, and I really started to dive my emotions into improved movement phrases with one of the dancers. We started repeating movement phrases from the improve and building upon those. After 45 mins went by, I created all of the movement phrases that were going to be used in the Trauma section. The next rehearsal I started teaching the dancers the phrases, blocked the dancers, reconstructed the phrases in solo/duet/group formations, and by the end of that rehearsal Trauma was set. For a good bit of time we started to focus only on Trauma and Smother because those were the two sections that were going to be auditioned for the school’s spring dance concert as a student piece, and once we found out that it was picked, we dedicated at least 45 mins to running Trauma and Smother. The combination of those two sections ended up being called Psycho-Trauma (2019) as it was an excerpt to the fuller Psycho-Control show. The songs that were used for Psycho-Trauma were Gyroscope by Boards of Canada, and Smother by Daughter

The next section I started working on was a section called Party which is based on Alcohol and Drug abuse. I knew for the Alcohol and Drug abuse section of the piece, I didn’t want it to be heavy. I want it to be the more fun side of the piece because while Alcohol and Drug abuse is a heavy topic, when you’re in that movement of feeling high or drunk you’re in a state of euphoria and excitement which is something that I wanted to convey in this piece as it is set in a Party atmosphere. The piece of music I used was Hyperballad by Bjork, and the reason I used this piece of music is because I was at an event about two years prior and I was laying on a sound floor in which the vibrations of the floor were meant to heal you. The vibrations of the song on the musicality of the song reminded me of that night as there were a lot of people around me who were high in the room. A lot of the movement phrases in the beginning are based around movements we make when we’re in the states of high or drunk. By the end of the piece we are at our peak and then we pass out at the end. This is all due to a pill we all swallow in the beginning of the piece. It was fun to make this section because it’s more upbeat, the music really gets you going in terms of both dancing and choreography.

The next piece that I worked on was called Time, and it’s based on wanting to go back and change things in your past that would mentally affect your future. The music for this was a cut version Reconsider by Jamie XX. This section became a quartet between myself and three other dancers in the cast. The movements in this section were a lot of ticking movements, reverbing of movement, and a lot of running/walking frontward and backward. I think this was the quickest dance that I created because the movements came naturally in the process and the dancers picked up on everything quite fast. In terms of choreography I started thinking outside the box on movement that I feel like I never done or seen before. This piece is something I see myself coming back to in the nearby future.

The next section that we worked on was a section called Wonder in which I started to create the summer prior. I ended up adding into the larger piece because of a costume issue that we had with War Between Me and It. Because the corset I wore the semester prior for the solo does not fit Erica because we are two completely different body types, we had to use a lapa as the piece of fabric that Erica wore in their solo. I ended up adding Wonder to give the fabric more character in the piece. In Wonder, almost every dancer has a moment dancing an improved solo with the fabric. The fabric is still the sense of depression and as each dancer picks it up, it affects them differently in the solo. By the end, I have the fabric so I can take it off stage but as I walked off, the fabric is still visibly affecting me.

The final piece that was choreographed was called Heaven. Heaven is the final piece in the show, and it is the release of the show from all of the heaviness that the show embodied. I ended up using a voicemail from my Grandmother that she sent me on my birthday which basically told me to don’t give up on myself as I wrote a facebook post about the previous year being a hard year for me mentally. The piece starts out with everyone wearing all white as they are doing Graham technique floorwork on the ground. I start to walk out in the middle of the two lines that are facing on a diagonal and I eventually join everybody on the floor. By the end of the piece we are all starting to walking off stage into the light, I am in the back of the line looking behind me periodically as I am looking at where I’ve been, the things that I went through, and all of the negatively that I’m leaving behind and I soon start to walk into the light that everyone else has walked in which is like me walking into a brighter future or even walking into a better place in my life.

As the semester was starting to come closer to the end, and the showcase of both Psycho-Control and Psycho-Trauma started to come near, there were a few things that caught my attention in terms of what I appreciated, what I loved, and what I would change. What I appreciated was the work that everyone on the tech side of things did for me for this piece. In terms of lighting, I only had an idea of what kind of colors I wanted on the stage, but after seeing the ideas that the lighting director had it really brought out the piece into a different lense that I never imagined seeing it, and it almost made me cry because of how crazy someone else’s vision of your piece can really bring out the best in the product. I was also able to work with the sound director to create the audio transitions that were spoken by student voice actors. The way that she was able to cut everything and level the volumes of not just the voice recordings but also the full music file of the piece that I created on Garageband was amazing and I’m deeply thankful and grateful for that.

One of the things that I love was how much my cast appreciated the work they were doing. All of the dancers kept coming up to me and thanking me for letting them be in this piece. I think that it’s because this piece meant a lot more than just dancing; this piece was physically, mentally, and emotionally demanding and I tread lightly in terms how much I pushed the dancers. I only pushed them when they were ready to be pushed, and they also respected how much I was pushing myself in terms of choreography because it was physically, mentally, and emotionally demanding for me as well. But for me in this process, I had to make sure the dancers were okay until I could ask myself if I was okay. I sort of put my personal emotions and needs in autopilot to make sure the security of the dancers was the number one priority and then later in the process especially when it was time to perform these pieces of work, I was able to ask myself if I was okay and what do I need for myself in order to perform this piece because I was also a dancer in the piece as well.

The only thing I would change would be the costuming. I personally did not fully like some of the costumes that we used for the Psycho-Control, but I love the costume that we used for Psycho-Trauma. I think that after everything was set and done, I started looking at clothes online and realizing things that I wish I used for the larger piece. We ended up shopping around for pieces of white clothing for the heaven section of the piece, and then we looked at our own wardrobes for the other sections of the piece. For each section of the show, I always saw a color that matched the piece’s aura for instance for the Time section, I always saw this sense of blue while creating it so we ended up wearing blue shirts in that section. At the end of the day, I am fully content on what we used for the show because it was the only things that we could get, and I’m grateful for the fact that we were able to get anything for the fuller piece.

I am excited to see how my choreography process progresses from here. I’m interested in seeing if I can restage this whole piece at some point in the future; if not the whole piece then excerpts would be fine too. I am thankful for everyone who was involved in the process, and I am ready to embark on my next choreographic journey.

#dance choreography dancestudent dancechoreography choreographer

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meg2md · 5 years

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So I’m really liking my Zanki method. Since we have biweekly exams, and our last biweekly is the Monday of the end-of-block Friday exam, it’s helping me to keep up with both the old and new class material. I think I’ve discussed it before, but basically I just search for whatever terms we cover as we cover them and move them into my ��[Block-Specific] Zanki Deck”, and then once the block is over I move all those cards into my “Step 1 Zanki Master Deck”, so I can continue to review old material throughout the semester. I try to do 100 new cards per day, and I try to do all of my reviews (I’ve been falling a little behind lately - I’m finally catching up again though). I always prioritize my block specific deck, so MSK right now. Pictured above are the decks I pull from that I got from Reddit. Usually I don’t have so many cards, but again I’m catching up from being out-of-town.

The outside resources I use are

SketchyMicro (watch, concept map, add to Zanki)

SketchyPharm (watch, concept map, add to Zanki)

SketchyPath (watch only after I have a decent understanding from other resources as a summary/review, then add to Zanki)

Pathoma <3

Anatomy Coloring Book to orient myself pre-dissection

Rohan Color Atlas of Anatomy (very useful for practicals since it uses cadaver photos instead of drawings)

First Aid to cross-check things... a few Zanki cards have been wrong or needed to be updated from more recent FA editions

USMLERx for questions from previous blocks (we have pre-made question powerpoints from previous students that draw from BRS/Lippencotts/etc so I use those)

Boards and Beyond (review before exams on topics I don’t understand)

Resources I will probably use in the future are

Costanzo physiology (it’s not particularly useful for MSK)

Goljan Rapid Review Pathology (I might browse through relevant topics before our end-of-block exam)

Goljan audio (I might listen to the block-specific lecture before our end-of-block exam)

Because our exams do test little non-Step relevant details (which they can because there are more of them, so less material per exam), I cram pre-made decks from current M2s and tutoring powerpoints the weekend before the Monday exam. So like yeah I’m cramming a bit which sucks but I also have my long-term retention of the Step-relevant material! And I do have to watch the lectures once throughout the week so I know where to focus my cramming on the weekends. :P

I’ve fallen behind with USEMLERx, though, which sucks because I need to keep doing practice questions. Zanki cards are good for memorization but they’re not going to help me synthesize the information to solve problems... I need to do practice Qs for that. It’s just been hard because I’ve been so busy with going out of town and all my extracurriculars this week, but I’m going to try to do a few today.

I will say that it’s neat to see how our fundamentals courses (basic sciences, so genetics/biochem/immunology) are coming together to help me understand our organ blocks better! I’m really glad our school ordered it this way. Last semester was a slog because basically all we did was hard science (with some random clinical tie-ins), but now we’re going back and covering some of them in more detail and it ALL MAKES SENSE. So when I review my Zanki Step Deck and I get questions on HGPRT deficiency.... I like, completely get it now from a diagnosis/presentation/treatment/molecular pathogenesis standpoint. It’s super cool!!!! So like when I do certain Zanki cards that cover stuff I won’t go more in-depth in until next year (like I did SketchyPharm for NSAIDs because they’re first-line treatment for acute gout, which we’re covering right now... but a lot of the mechanisms are related to renal function, which we cover as M2s), I’m still optimistic because I know it will make actual sense later even if now it just seems like I’m brute-memorizing facts.

I just can’t get over how validating it is to cover something we learned last semester from an MSK-perspective because it makes SO MUCH SENSE and it helps me actually REMEMBER the biochemistry/immunology/genetics behind it. MEDICINE IS COOL.

Also our clinical skills this semester is SO MUCH BETTER than last semester and I actually love it, like we go in with our SPs and take histories/do physicals/come up with Ddx/pretend to order imaging. And then with our primary care clerkship we are slowly integrating taking histories/physicals and writing SOAP notes with REAL PATIENTS which is AWESOME

I love med school so much guys

#medblr #premed #studyblr

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anapologethicc · 2 years

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i think what set me off the most this week was when i was in my class which was about being able to identify and cater to the needs of gifted students and students with special needs (THAT is an entirely separate discussion and i'm gonna use the word neurodivergent)

So this semester because we're finally back face to face after a year and a half of being online (might go back online cuz of omicron ://) anyways i made it a point to sit in the front of every class so i don't get distracted and to make sure i pay attention. so last week i went to this class that i mentioned above and the really liked my discussion answers (mind you i was the youngest person in this class) and we were also made to form groups to do little discussions during which this fifth year guy says to me "you seem to know a lot about this topic (ND children)" to which i was like yeah i've researched a lot into it cause i'm interested and want to be able to help students in my classroom in the future. and then class ended and yadda yadda.

and then THIS week. i went back to class and we had to watch this short documentary/news video on how much the government here (and mostly everywhere else too) SUCKS at providing for students who need extra help and support in the classroom. and we saw a couple of case studies. and this documentary thing must've been quite old cause they used the term and diagnosis "asperger's syndrome" which obviously since 2013 doesn't exist as an official diagnosis anymore.

it's placed under the ASD (autism spectrum disorder) diagnosis instead. and so i told my group members this information and they were all like surprised and everything. they then went on to discuss how ND children actually had the ability and capacity to be social and emotional. (which once again pissed me off because everyone's idea of ND people comes from the media who mostly always portrays them incorrectly)

and then i got asked again why i knew so much. to which i unfortunately replied "i have ADHD and a lot of the symptoms or characteristics of ASD or even of gifted students can sometimes be quite similar so i relate to the experiences and that's why i can speak on the topic quite well"

to which this bag of dicks replies "yOu dOn'T loOK LikE yoU hAVe ADHD" and here is where i wanna take of my shoe and throw it at him but i control myself and explain to him in layman's terms that i'm a grown adult who has control over my actions and impulses much better than a child who doesn't have any idea how differently their brain or body functions.

if he was smarter i would've tried to explain to him that i spent a lot of my life masking and trying to fit myself into the box of NT people and how harmful it was and how after i learnt that i might have ADHD (which i do) and maybe autism (which i need to get assessed for) how much i've read up on both diagnoses and watched so many hours worth of videos and read so many ig posts or even tumblr posts about the different experiences.

and that day i left class so pissed off. because he would never have any idea how hard someone with a ND brain needs to work in order to keep up with NTs. how little schools do for kids who are neurodivergent and how much these kids struggle all their lives because the proper treatment or resources are just not available or even accessible in a lot of cases.

i worked my fucking ass off last semester. i had 8 courses (2 more than we're required) each of which had 3 hour lectures (have you any fucking idea how much it takes my brain to focus for even half an hour). on top of that i was working under a prof for her research project. i was interning once a week at a kindergarten and i had no time off on saturdays because i come from a religious family where on saturdays we spend the entire day in different religious assemblies. which only leaves me with a sunday to recharge.

so imagine this. i have to work extra hard to focus for 3 hours (on mondays i had 2 lectures back to back which meant sitting still for 6 fucking hours). extra hard to be able to participate in class so the fucking prof can even remember my name correctly. and i had to do about 9 group presentations which required me to interact with people who barely gave a shit. that means taking over and making decisions and making sure things get submitted on time.

and then on top of that at the end of the semester. within the timespan of a month i have to come up with at least 15k to 20k words worth of essays that need to be submitted on time (I CAN BARELY REMEMBER WHAT DAY IT IS on a daily basis)

as someone which adhd. i don't have the attention span required "I'M AN INTEREST BASED LEARNER" i don't have the energy it takes to interact with so many people. "MY SOCIAL BATTERY IS AT -53% AT ANY GIVEN TIME" i don't have the brain power required to submit things on time because my brain's "do this and i will reward you" system IS BROKEN. and i only got 2 WEEKS to recover from about 4 months of working non stop.

i had a meeting with my program head earlier this week. IT'S ONLY BEEN A FUCKING WEEK INTO SEM 2. and he told me that i shouldn't be worried because i'm already doing more than most people. i'm doing a 5 year degree with 2 minors (personal choice and prolly overcompensating). i'm still working on that research proj for my prof and i have a mentorship program i have to complete for my course which requires me to shadow a teacher for about 2 months. I AM EXHAUSTED. I AM TIRED.

and i want it to be heard and recognized that just because there's a bunch of memes and jokes on adhd all over the internet that yes i enjoy and rb sometimes. doesn't mean it isn't fucking exhausting. i have no physical energy. no social energy. and i'm ALWAYS OVERWHELMED. I CANNOT BREATHE.

when i was younger i would stay up all night doing the things i enjoyed because i felt like i never had time during the day cause of school. and now i'm constantly finding ways to get more sleep. i'm always exhausted. and i know that because i'm so exhausted i'm gonna go into my "i'm so overwhelmed my brain has malfunctioned and sent me into adhd paralysis" where i can't function. i can't eat. i can't work. all i can do is sit there and cry because my brain refuses to work like it does for normal people. i have a presentation due in the last week of jan ALREADY.

my calendar makes me wanna curl up into a ball and sob. while other students in my course are fine with the course load because they didn't drop out at the end of high school because they had a complete mental breakdown and failed the year. i dropped out and completed a 2 year course in one year once my learning environment changed and improved. so i am by no means dumb or slow (like people think). i'm smart and i'm capable. i just live in a society where if you're not constantly productive you're fucking useless. and they make it a point to make sure you feel like that every singe day of your life.

#i feel like this is why people don't stick around #because eventually i'll get into a place academically that i'm so so so fucking overwhelmed by #and by the time i recover from it people are always in a different place in their lives and have no space for me #and this is what i mean by i'm always playing catch up #no matter how hard i work or how hard i try i'll never be able to catch up #and that's one of the most depressing things i've ever had to feel #that i'll always be left behind even if i'm trying my hardest #i'm so tired #i wanna drop out #i have about 3 and a half years to go #i am my family's oldest child and i'm not allowed to be sick or screwed in the head #as my parents would so kindly put it #i just want my brain to listen to me #and not have a brain of it's own #i love saying that on most days #that my brain has a brain of it's own #or that me and my brain are seperate entities #anyways #i have to be up at 6:30 am tmr #gotta go work #night yall #sorry for putting this on your dash lmao #long post #ananya's brain babies👶🏼

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lizzizzie-blog · 6 years

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d) all of the above

Today is a the anniversary of a significant event in my life. I am resultingly (I might have made this word up but I’m sticking with it) emotional, and instead of baking cookies or wrapping presents or taking a shower or doing laundry or actually getting caught up with my work-work, I am feeling my feelings and I’ve been reflecting on what has been an incredibly intense year.

Things that happened in 2017:

In the last few days of 2016, I fell in love so hard with a TV show about Norwegian teens. I’ve made friends as a result who I talk to regularly and are super important to me. I’ve taken two trips to meet them (Boston and Philly) and I’ve planned my first real international trip/vacation (Oslo, Norway, January 2018) as a result. Honestly, nobody saw this one coming.

January: I officially started my new job that it turns out is really really hard and stressful and exhilarating and kicks my ass. I mostly work from home (an adjustment in itself) but also travel frequently. This year I’ve been to: Monroe, Louisiana; Louisville, Kentucky; Atlanta and Newnan, Georgia; Selma, Alabama; Bay City, Texas; Austin, Texas; New York City; Freehold, New Jersey; Milwaukee, Wisconsin; and Las Vegas - some more than once.

In February, I experienced hot springs for the first time in Colorado for my sister-in-law-to-be’s bachelorette party.

In March, I turned 30. My husband and friends threw a perfect, stupid, fun, whimsical, casual party for me and I felt so lucky. There were Harry Potter puns. There were buttons with my bitmoji on them. There was a dinosaur beer luge ice sculpture and many delicious beers. I got to play and dance to “I Feel It Coming” twice.

In April, I officiated the wedding ceremony of my brother and the aforementioned sister-in-law, in Maryland.

In May, the husband quit his job and we bought a record store. I mean, what?! What!!!

In June, the husband almost cut off his fingers in a hedge trimmers vs. hand incident, resulting in us missing another wedding. That was fun

In July, I married another of my best friends as a co-officiant with another of our best friends, in Michigan.

In August, I saw the total solar eclipse in St. Louis! It was the coolest, spookiest, most amazing thing. Bizarrely moving. During that trip, I also:

Met and held and loved on the baby of someone I grew up with/a childhood bestie, for the first time. Wow.

Felt a fetus kick inside of a human tummy for the first time ever, and it happened to be my very best friend. A small moment of magic.

In August, I got a tattoo. My first. Possibly only. I’m not sure.

In October, I told myself, and then my husband, and then the internet / People of Facebook, that I’m pansexual, because it’s not a secret. And I was met with all the both incredible support and curious and/or confused questions that people who do that sort of thing are met with. This has been bizarre.

A few times, I wrote things about myself and published them in a blog and told actual people I know about it. This one is still a struggle too.

And that’s not an exhaustive list. Plenty of other significant and joyful moments happened with other people I love, as well, including 30th birthday parties and pregnancy announcements and engagements and even a anniversary / birthday / retirement party for the in-laws. I also learned that another of our couple-friends are getting a divorce. The point is... it’s been SO much of significance in so little time. I’ve never been so stressed and scared and tired, but I’ve also never been so thrilled and inspired and in love with other people. I’ve never felt more overwhelmed with life, but I’ve also never been this accepting of myself. It’s been a lot. It’s still a lot. It always is. When I was little, I think I thought that joy and love were the antidote to grief and pain. Or that sadness and stress negated happiness and laughter and light. That these things were mutually exclusive. Now, I’m still constantly struck by how MUCH life is. How many different things I feel during any given year, month, week, day, or moment. But when I reflect, I think I actually learned this early. Joy and pain don’t cancel each other out; they complement and amplify each other. They make each other real, and the reality of life is that we will experience both, and feeling one doesn’t invalidate feeling the other. I learned this in October of my senior year of high school when I was having the time of my life with my friends in band, dance team, show choir, and the senior play, and then my cousin died, out of nowhere. It was awful and I was confused and angry and devastated, but life didn’t stop. It didn’t stop me loving my friends or having fun in my various activities or falling in love with a boy over the next several months. It was all of that, all at once. It affected me profoundly, every day, but life didn’t stop. My junior year of college, a friend of mine had a really intense health scare that involved passing out followed by emergency surgery, and eventual diagnosis with a genetic disorder that made it very dangerous to operate on her and would mean precarious health going forward. She was my “Partner,” as we were co-Morale-Captains of the Red team for our college’s Dance Marathon event in April, which raised money for Children’s Miracle Network. Planning and organizing for the event began with weekly meetings in the fall, and this committee was incredibly close knit, with Partners put together and assigned colors based on specific shared traits. So, this happened in February, the night before my boyfriend’s birthday. We found out during our weekly meeting, and we left to go to her apartment, where all her sorority sisters were, and essentially held vigil until the surgery was over. It was days before we really knew if she was going to be okay, including Valentine’s Day. I ate a Dove chocolate heart with the message “discover how much your heart can hold.” And that resonated with me so much. I was feeling so much. I kept the wrapper. Taped it to a piece of index card. I still carry it in my wallet. I turned 21 in March, while she was home recovering. I was so sad to be without my Partner on the committee and so worried about her. She, somewhat miraculously, did get to come to Dance Marathon, in her wheelchair. I was so happy she was there. It was such a relief. She got better, and graduated and got a job and got married and bought a house and got a dog. Then, years later, she had another complication, and after multiple attempts to save her, she died. This was a week after my wedding and the day after we got home from our honeymoon. It was horrible, of course, and right in the middle of one of the most loving and joyous times in my life. Again, it was all happening at once. More than I thought my heart could hold. (She was one of the funniest people I’ve ever known. Her humor was clever and quick and biting. So charismatic. Her attention made you feel special and people adored her.) To conclude this meandering, self-involved mess, I need to flash back again. To my senior year of college, fall semester 2008. Dance Marathon had finished the previous spring, and I’d tried out to be my college’s mascot, and gotten it. It was amazing. But it was a secret. Part of our tradition was that nobody is supposed to know who the humans inside the costume were. And so naturally that leads to much speculation about who they are, and we had to be careful to avoid being found out. I was dating a person who’d been the mascot the year before, and we didn’t have any reason to know each other in real life, so we were dating in secret, essentially, as well.

He happened to be best friends with a girl from my hometown, who I’d been friends with in high school, who also went to our college. She’d graduated that spring and was in Cincinnati for her master’s. She invited us down to see her perform in a play for the church she’d joined there - serious production value - 9 years ago today. We were going to stay with her for the weekend, too. At the play, she was flying around suspended on a harness high up in the air for her role as a wise man. Maybe 20 minutes in, at the end of a song, she struck a pose, her hardness malfunctioned, and she fell to the floor. I don’t remember much of what happened next, but our seats were very high up and we could not see at all what was happening. Somehow they stopped and everyone filed out and they called an ambulance. Somehow her friends found us and we got to the hospital with them. We waited hours. Eventually her parents arrived, met with doctors, and asked us to leave. We drove all the way back to our college town and crashed. A few hours later, her friend called my boyfriend, waking us up, to tell her they had removed her from life support and she had died. It was, of course, traumatic, tragic, and devastating. It was such a bizarre time. So hard, and so painful. Some of my worst days ever. But at the same time, set during the backdrop what was objectively the time of my life. I was a senior in college and I was the mascot. Literally living a dream of mine, having an absolute blast. Then this, in the middle of finals … having to tell my professors what had happened and why I needed extra time. I skipped my only mascot event the night of the day we found out she died.

After that, mascotting became an escape from it. A place where I could go for a few hours and forget my shit. I could focus on entertaining others, on nothing but being an anonymous vessel of enthusiasm and joy and love, on the eventual physical exhaustion of it. A way to clear my head. And then Christmas was happening, and right back to the next semester. Life didn’t slow down. It was everything at once. Horrific and traumatic and devastating, but the love I experienced in speaking with other people who knew her after she died, of meeting people she knew who looked up to her the same way that I did, the joy of living my dream and escaping reality as the mascot, the way my boyfriend and I somehow got each other through that time ... all of it was real and valid and happening, too. Looking back on that time 9 years ago, I don’t know how I survived. But, that’s sort of what we always do, isn’t it? We love the shit out of each other and we get by. And the weird thing is, December and the holidays are still the same now… the circumstances are ever-changing, of course, but there’s always the painful melancholy of missing people that you love, coupled with the stress of it all, then combined with so much warmth and comfort. It’s a lot. It’s all of it at once. And we’re doing it together. Life is rich, y’all. <3

“So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.” ― The Perks of Being a Wallflower

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buckybarnesappreciationsociety · 7 years

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“I Can’t Do This Without You” Part 1

Summary: The Barnes family is shaken to the core by Y/N’s cervical cancer diagnosis. This series chronicles their struggles and after care.

Word Count: 1,767

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

OFC: Izzy, S.J (Steven James), Tony, Sam. Steve, Clint, Nat, Wanda, Bruce, Dr. Cho, Dr. Patricia Traver.

Warning: Discussions about menstrual cycle and cervical cancer.

A/N: Any form of cancer is devastating and I am NOT making light of anyone. I was diagnosed with a cancerous ulcer that spread to my cervix, uterus and fallopian tubes at 24 years old. The doctor froze the cells before they spread further. I’ve had 2 surgeries to remove the aforementioned female parts. The downside to having a hysterectomy is menopause. I experienced it at 24 and it was pure hell!!!!! To anyone who has a relative, friend, or themselves are dealing with cancer, I’m praying for their or your recovery.

Y/N Barnes became alarmed when her menstrual cycle became heavier than normal and coupled with excruciating pain. She didn’t waste any time making an appointment with her gynecologist and longtime friend, Dr. Patricia Travers.

What she wasn’t prepared for were the findings of the transvaginal ultrasound (TVUS) and CA-125 blood test. The findings shook Y/N to the core.

Cancer.... cervical cancer, stage 3. Y/N felt the color drain from her face and the air from her lungs. She started hyperventilating. Dr. Travers coached her through breathing exercises. After her she calmed down, Y/N sobbed as she held onto her friend like a lifeline.

At home, Bucky helped S.J. prepare for soccer practice. Sam volunteered to drop him off at the field.

With time to spare, Bucky turned on the t.v., grumbling about some reality show. Glancing at his phone, no call from Y/N. Of course, the first thing came to mind was HYDRA.

Noticeably upset, Bucky pressed speed dial #2 for Y/N’s phone, he practically lost it when Patricia answered.

“Pat, where’s Y/N? Why are you answering her phone?” The tightness in his chest restricted breathing.

“Hey James. Y/N is here in my office. Would you come down ASAP? We have some news and she wants you here.”

Already upset, Bucky hung up, running down the corridor shouting for Steve.

“Hey Stevie!!! I need ya.” Bucky bellowed.

Stumbling to his bedroom door, Steve was taken aback by Bucky’s urgency.

“Buck, what’s going on? Jeez you scared the shit out of me.” His disheveled hair indicated Nat was over.

Out of breath, Bucky nervously tried to explain the news he’d received. Shocked, Steve agreed to pick-up S.J. from practice and take him out for burgers and a chocolate shake.

“Thanks pal. I gotta get to Y/N. Just don’t say anything to S.J.”

Taking two steps at a time, Bucky ran to his car. Running a few traffic lights, his mind was a jumbled mess. “What the hell is wrong with my Doll?”

Coming to a screeching halt, the unsettled super soldier almost punched a hole in the elevator wall because it was moving too slow.

Finally reaching the 14th floor, he made a mad dash for Dr. Traver’s office. Once inside, the receptionist ushered him in the back, where Y/N and Patricia were waiting.

When the door opened, Y/N threw herself into Bucky’s waiting arms. Patricia thought it best to leave them alone. This was too much to fathom all at once. Y/N needed her husband for morale support.

Gripping his blue henley, Y/N found it difficult to form a sentence. “L-let’s sit down.”

“You’re scaring me doll. Please tell me what’s going on!” Tears welled up in his cerulean eyes.

Taking a sip of water, “I have Stage 3 cervical cancer Buck. Oh god, I can’t believe it.”

The salty liquid streamed down his chiseled jaw. Unable to speak, Bucky simply held his wife, as they cried together.

After 15 minutes, Dr. Travers entered the room, sitting behind her desk.

“I know this is a lot to take in, but there are options. We would do what’s called a radical hysterectomy and oophorectomy. The hysterectomy will remove the uterus and tissue fibers; the cervix and maybe an inch or 2 of your vagina. Also, your ovaries would be removed as well. After surgery, if we find anymore cancer cells, a low dose of chemotherapy will be administered.”

Bucky gasped as Dr. Travers showed them on a model of the female reproductive system what would be removed.

Shifting in her chair, Y/N held Bucky’s hand. “Pat, what will I become? I’m not having anymore kids, but I don’t want to feel as if I’m not a whole woman.”

“Y/N, you’ll still be a whole woman without your reproductive organs. After you’re healed, I don’t see why the surgery would dampen your sex life.”

“I don’t care about that sweetheart, all I want is my wife healthy and cancer free. I’ll be with ya through it all.” Bucky lovingly held Y/N’s trembling hand.

As Y/N gazed into Bucky’s’ eyes, her lip trembled, as she mouthed ‘thank you’

“Um doc, how soon will she need surgery?,” Bucky inquired.

“I’m not going to sugar coat anything. The sooner, the better.” Dr.Traver’s was forthright with her answer.

Inhaling sharply, Y/N mentioned Izzy and finals. “Izz is taking end of semester finals. We’ll wait until she’s home and talk then.”

“Alright. Today’s Wednesday. When will she finish her finals?”

“On Friday evening. James and I will talk to everyone at the same time.”

“I’ll wait for your phone call. Just know, this is serious. The sooner we get in and remove the cancerous cells, your chances will be higher to avoid chemo.”

Standing from his chair, Bucky thanked Dr. Travers. Helping Y/N steady herself, they thanked their friend and headed towards the car.

“I love you so much James. You’re home to me.” Y/N held Bucky’s flesh hand.

“Dollface, I’ll be right by your side through all of this; so will the team.”

Wiping her face, “How are we gonna handle this? Everyone needs to know.”

“What about a family meeting? Izzy and S.J.’ll need a strong support and they have that. How about Saturday afternoon?” Bucky nodded ‘yes.’

When Bucky pulled up to the Tower, he and Y/N attempted to calm themselves for the sake of S.J. and the team.

From the garage to inside should be an easy 3 minute jaunt. To Bucky and Y/N, their steps were marred by today’s report from Dr. Travers.

The weight proved heavy on Y/N’s shoulders and her tears flowed like heavy raindrops. Bruce, Nat, Wanda, Clint, Tony, and Vision were in the common room debating some stupid game show.

Wanda felt pain radiating from Y/N. She stopped talking and pulled her into a hug. Everyone else didn’t know what to make if the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

Tony quipped, “Hey Popsicle, what’s going on?”

Sitting on the plush sofa, Y/N and Bucky prepared to tell the team. The pain evident on Bucky’s face, he held his wife close.

“I have Stage 3 cervical cancer. I’m having surgery before the end of the month.”

Nat didn’t try to stop the tears; neither did Tony and Wanda. Bruce and Clint were numb.

Y/N laid out what type of surgery she’d have and impending chemotherapy if all the cells aren’t removed.

“Listen, we don’t wanna tell the kids yet. Izz is taking finals and S.J. needs to focus on his studies and soccer game. I’ll tell Steve and Sam, just not right now.” Bucky choked back tears.

Tony was adamant about ensuring Bucky and Y/N will have everything needed for after care. “You and Bucky concentrate on the surgery. I’ll handle after care. Whatever it takes you’ll have. I’ll have contractors come in and turn two rooms into a medical suite, complete with chemo equipment and anything else.”

Y/N pulled Tony into a hug. She and Bucky were overwhelmed by his gesture.

Tony and Bruce excused themselves and headed to the medical bay. Dr. Cho was briefed. She sprang into action researching all Y/N would need after surgery.

Clint, Nat, and Wanda pulled Bucky and Y/N into a group hug.

Wanda pulled Y/N into a hug. “Me and Nat are here for you always.” Nat nodded ‘yes’.

Clint patted Bucky on the shoulder. The distraught super soldier nodded as he and Y/N headed to their apartment.

*************************

Y/N sat on the sofa, patting the space next to her. With a heavy heart, Bucky joined her.

“James, please hear me out. In case something hap-” Bucky abruptly stood, covering his ears.

“STOP IT!!! I’M NOT GONNA LISTEN TO THIS! WE’RE GONNA GROW OLD TOGETHER. SEE IZZY GRADUATE COLLEGE AND S.J. GRADUATE HIGH SCHOOL!!”

Reaching out for his hand, Y/N tried to calm Bucky down. “Baby, please. I need to get this out. Come sit with me please.”

Bucky slumped down on the sofa, holding his head. He openly sobbed. Y/N rubbed his back. “Doll, I wouldn’t be able to do this without ‘ya. It’s unreal baby. You can’t leave me. Please don’t leave me,” he begged.

Laying his head on Y/N’s lap, she gently ran her fingers through his hair. “Babe, IF it happens, Izzy and S.J. will need you more than ever. Please try to stay strong for them. Please James, stay strong for our kids. Promise me.”

“I promise dollface.”

Y/N heard S.J, Steve and Sam return. Bucky went to the bathroom and washed his face. Trying to hide behind the pain with a forced smile.

“Hey mom, guess what? Uncle Steve and Uncle Sam took me for a burger and chocolate shake. It was so cool. We had fun!”

Bucky greeted S.J. with a hug. “Hey buddy. Did’ya have a good time after practice?”

“Yep. I’m full. Uncle Steve ate more than me and Sam. You should’ve been there.”

************************************

Sam didn’t say anything but he knew something was off. “Hey Buck, wanna join me and Steve for a drink or three?”

“Go on sweetheart. Maybe you can find where Thor hid the Asgardian mead.” Y/N stood up and kissed Bucky.

Pushing them out the door, Y/N turned her attention to S.J. He was so excited about soccer practice, his next game and spending the afternoon with his uncles.

Sam, Steve, and Bucky went to the rooftop to talk.

“Hey Barnes, what’s going on man? You look like you’ve lost your best friend.” Sam wondered.

“Y/N has Stage 3 cervical cancer.” Before he could finish, tears rolled once more. Bucky had no idea he cried so much! He was devastated.

Sam was enraged. “Shit shit shit!” His hurt led to anger. He flipped over 3 chairs and a table.

Steve put his arm around Bucky as they cried together.

Once the anguish died down, Bucky asked his friends not to mention it around S.J. When Izzy comes home for fall break, they’ll get everyone together and tell them.

Steve and Sam vowed to be there for him, Y/N and the kids.

Life is a precious commodity, so cherish it while you can. Tomorrow’s not promised to anyone!

@omalleysgirl22 @rebelslicious @pegasusdragontiger @magellan-88 @shy2shot @papi-chulo-bucky @bolontiku @beyondbarnes @goodnightwife @this-kitty-has-claws @not-moose-one-shots @buckyohh @captnbarnesrogers@sgtjamesbuchananbarnes107th @supersoldierslover @irene-rogue-adler @3brosangel @promarvelfangirl @theimpossibleg1rl

#this is serious #family and friends #support network #praying for a cure #i'm praying for you

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friedpotat0 · 4 years

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its funny because the people that should care about you dont, and the people that shouldnt be bothered to care about you just waste their time over you.

my parents dont know that i cry myself to sleep nearly every night, that i cry on the ride home, or that i wrote a suicide note and plan with full intention to kill myself before 2:30 on tuesday 10/29, they have no idea i think about my own death often or that i plan on killing myself before i turn 30, or how my body shakes every second of the day because everything is distracting or making me immensely nervous. they dont know im frustrated or irritated or that every little thing annoys the fuck out of me or how my paranoia is so bad i always perpetually feel like the entire world is against me, they dont know ive been seeing the counselor since high school and that the psychiatrist bluntly told me i have severe depression with bipolar 2 and prescribed me lamitrogine even though i really disagree with the diagnosis and wished they listened to my concerns about anxiety instead.

people dont know these things bc i dont tell them and i dont want anyone to worry about me. im pretty good at hiding things bc ive been dealing with bad thoughts my whole life. but relentlessly i choose to believe in optimism because i believe in Allah and he is slowly guiding me through this hellscape. i hate crying in front of people, and i especially dont like have any attention on me ever (unless im playing the guitar, then shut up). i dont like being selfish and self absorbed. and i hate dwelling on the past.

its funny when ur own family has absolutely no idea whats going on because when you did tell them, when u were 14, about the suicidal thoughts and anxiety, they yelled at you and called u attention seeking, so u never told them about the weight loss or the scars or the suicide attempts. its so funny that the people that should care about you dont, and really just prize you as a trophy rather than a human being with thoughts and feelings.

instead the counselor, my research supervisor, hell my fucking advisor has more concern over me than my own family and (certain) close “friends” ever will have in their lives. it means a lot to me that im finally getting some love and attention that ive always needed, but never realized it.

its funny how things get so distorted in your mind. you accomplish so much yet you feel like you did so little. i am so fatigued all the time, i already feel old, my skin is so dry and my body is so frail, my back aches endlessly, my lips are chapped and falling off, your feet always hurt, your hands are always cold, my mind is so worn. my nails are so brittle at this point and breaking at the edges. my skin is so fucked up id like to rip it off at this point.

its so weird to me i wrote a whole suicide plan and suicide note and released it with every intention that i will kill myself before the end of the week but yet i am still here, very much alive and (arguably) healthy. with full intention to finish this semester. why? what happened there? and yet i still find myself looking back at that plan constantly with tears running down my face. i have a lot of tears.

i wanted to kill myself since i was very very young. i remember when my mom would scream at me that she wishes i was dead and that i was her burden, nearly every day, and i would go to sleep crying praying to god he would kill me in my sleep. i would suffocate myself when i was 6 just to try to end it all. i barely had any friends growing up and if i did i saw them briefly in school or once every three months at some gathering. rarely did i leave the house or ever get involved in the community, except for the sports my dad would force me into. i had little social interaction, and not many adults in my life to look up to other than my mom. i never felt like her daughter, i felt like i was some sister of hers. i never had a loving maternal figure in my life, save for a few teachers i have had, god bless them. now she only loves me because i can do things for her. when she hit me she didnt love me. when she screamed at me every day she didnt love me. when she told me to kill myself she didnt do that out of love. she doeesnt remember any of these things and claimed i made it up. i feel like im in hell. she had a hard life, to be fair...but i would raise my daughter differently. i would prefer to stay away from the word “burden” when referring to my children.

i have a good life and ill never dispute that ever. i was born with a lot of privilege. so why am i like this? who knows. you feel like your whole life was stolen from you and that you missed so many oppurtunities that you could have taken but every bone in your body screamed “no”. its bittersweet knowing that i am finally getting help but where was this help 6 years ago? how much more could i have accomplished if i had people in my life supporting me? and that i only receive this support recently? i only had two adult figures in my life and they were both my parents, my mom being very emotianally abusive and self centered with the maturity of a 6 year old, and my distant father who barely made any effort to listen to me, both who denies any sign of mental illness or health defects of any sort when the signs were clear.

why are my parents so concerned about my marriage when they should really be concerned about me?

I feel so emotionally stunted, as if i am still 15 years old, becasuse i am finally allowed to leave my damn house. what a life i have lived, so uneventful. never allowed to leave or wear what you want, say what you want, do what you want, because you are a muslim girl. fun is banned in islam, and in my family, apparently. no sense of humor, style, color, everything is so bland and monotonous it makes you want to scream. no passion, no motivation, just the same robotic shit for 20 years. why would i want to live a life like this i ask myself? for the rest of my fucking life? id rather die. at least in hell i can do what i want.

i hate being in my skin. sometimes i hate being in my body too. i am forced to wear mutliple layers of thick makeup every single fucking day for 12-16 hours straight because my skin is that fucking terrible and ugly. i cant imagine being naturally beatiful and having clear skin and then boasting about it, on top of that. its so infuriating. i am so ugly. no one can convince me otherwise. i feel so trapped so trapped no one even knows. no one will ever really understand. i dont expect them to. i want to do so much but i can only do so little. im too frail and weak to do anything. im always so tired, and sad, to make things worse. i wish i had so much potential but i dont. im dead already on the inside, like a rotted tree. what hope is there left.

sometimes i want to leave my hometown without telling anyone and never come back. that would be fun. then i can finally have the freedom i want and the ability to actually explore my life like i should. then i can finally choose my own path to the future. but i am confined in my own mind, in my own house, in my own family, in my own city. fuck this.

now i look ahead to a hopefully brighter future. progress and healing is very slow and gradual. the only growth i should focus on is myself. for the sake of myself. and for the sake of God. i will make it i have to keep saying it, speak it into existence, because if i dont, ill wither away.

#personal #definitely deleting this later #please dont message me or contact me im fine #i just needed to rant #people dont rlly know the tea #im not shading anyone just upset that things r this way

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