#Ghost has a hard on for southern belles

[lovepollution]

EMMY®-winning Canadian Luke Kirby Rings The ‘Bell’ as an Agoraphobic Southerner and Amateur Detective in PANHANDLE [x]

Canadians are used to dealing with raccoons, coyotes, beavers, and even polar bears from time to time. But in the new series PANHANDLE, the character played by EMMY® Award-winning actor Luke Kirby has a pet alligator. So how close did Kirby, a Canadian, get to a live alligator during the filming of PANHANDLE, which debuts Thursday, Oct. 6 at 9 p.m. ET on CTV Drama Channel? This would seem to be the reason that stunt doubles were invented. “You're not wrong,” Kirby said, “A stunt double was very important and integral to this assignment. I did, however, get fairly close to our dear little alligator friend, while keeping the right amount of distance. I didn't want my smell to rub off too distinctly. So I never spent too much time alone with it. I wanted there to be other options around.” Speaking of options, PANHANDLE is an intriguing one for viewers seeking a show that’s part mystery, part comedy, part drama, and part ghost story. It allows Kirby to display all his considerable skills, alongside co-star Tiana Okoye (THE GOOD PLACE). Following a family tragedy five years ago, the eccentric and agoraphobic Bellwether “Bell” Prescott (Kirby) hasn’t left the decaying, once-magnificent Florida property he shares with his mother. When Bell discovers a dead body in his azaleas, he suspects it might be connected to the previously mentioned case that impacted him personally. Bell, who has been working as an armchair detective from the comforts of his own garage, pesters the only cop left in their bankrupt town - Cammie Lorde (Okoye), known locally as the “speed-trap queen” - into helping him investigate. Of course, neither of them has the authority to do so, but thus begins their unlikely, tense, and often amusing partnership. Example: at one point Cammie complains, “I do not have time to run around playing Nancy Drew.” To which an exasperated Bell replies, “Nancy Drew was far more talented than you - and she was a fictitious child from the 1930s.” “I love brutally honest characters,” said Kirby, who won his EMMY® for his role as legendary comedian Lenny Bruce in THE MARVELOUS MRS. MAISEL. “I mean, they're hard to contend with in reality, for sure. Although I will say that some of those people sometimes have been my saviour. Just because something is painful to hear in the moment doesn’t mean it’s entirely wrong to tell the truth. And I like that about Bell. There's this kind of dying-breed aspect to this character, which I wanted to relish.” If Bell is a dying breed, the state of his Southern estate certainly reflects that. “There is great satisfaction, I think, derived from watching a once-thriving thing kind of have to change,” Kirby said. “It’s an empire robbed of its theatre. And Bellwether is the arbiter of this crumbling empire. He has to now contend with reality, which means, getting back to being a person in the world, with people. For generations, his family probably didn't really have to do that, but now he’s the one burdened with that responsibility.” Bell can be overcome by a lot of things in PANHANDLE, both real and imagined. To be blunt, he gets woozy and falls down a lot. So how is Kirby handling that from an acting perspective? “I’m doing better, thanks for asking,” Kirby said. “There's a price to pay, I will say that. I’m still working on it, and just trying to get as much sleep and rest as I can, floating in the pool, massages, whatever I need to do. When I first read the script, I thought there was room for that kind of physicality, and that it would be really fun. And then, of course, on the fourth day you start to think, ‘what have I done?’ And you know, time chips away. None of us becomes more limber as we get older.” Just stay limber enough to keep one step ahead of the pet alligator.

#luke kirby #panhandle #bell prescott #tiana okoye #cammie lorde

[cactiem]

coming back to you // m.b

Pairing: Marcus Baker x OC

Requested: Nope

Summary: How does Victoria Lexington know Marcus Baker?

GIF Not Mine

Everyone knows everything about everyone in Welsbury. That’s what is part of the charm. Deep in the roots of the picture-perfect town are secrets and lies, feeding its residents. Maybe that’s what brought Georgia to this quaint town. She was intrigued by the flawless front the town presented, a place where nothing could go wrong. It did go wrong though. One fateful summer afternoon, Caroline Lexington was found dead in her home leaving a giant hole in the Lexington home and one in the town she put all her a time and effort in to.

No one had heard from Victoria Lexington after her mom’s funeral. She just disappeared off the face of the planet without telling anyone. Her classmates just thought that she moved away or something after the traumatic year she had but the stares and whispers said otherwise. Her hair was straight, and lips painted a deep red, hips swinging as she walked down the hallway with everyone’s eyes on her. Nothing had changed. It was like the whole summer didn’t exist.

“Who’s that?” Ginny asked, intrigued by the presence Victoria had.

“That is Victoria Lexington.” Abby said as if it was obvious.

Seeing Ginny’s puzzled look, Max couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You’re so cute.” Ginny just gave her a deadpanned look before she continued. “Her family like owns this town and her mom died at the start of the summer so we’re all waiting for a breakdown to happen.”

Ginny looked at the brunette taking in her appearance as the rest of MANG fell into conversation. She didn’t look like she just lost her mom. Her red lips were pursed as she rummaged through her locker, aware of all the attention that was on her and loving every bit of it. Victoria was well put together. Ginny knew everyone handled loss in their own way, but something didn’t sit well with her, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

There was one thing that was getting on Victoria’s nerves as she went through her first day back at school and that was everyone asking her if she was okay. Was she okay? She didn’t know. Nothing was ever black and white. There were many levels to being okay and right now Victoria was okay enough. That didn’t stop her from plastering on a fake smile and thanking everyone for their forced condolences as if they cared. They didn’t. The only person who really cared about her was Marcus and she fucked that up. He saw at her lowest and Victoria couldn’t allow that. After all Lexington’s don’t cry in front of people.

She heard her mom’s voice clear as day, feel her claws digging into her jaw as she gripped it forcing Victoria to look up at her mom. “If you cry at any inconvenience then you’ll never stop crying. Crying is a weakness and Lexington’s aren’t weak.” Deep breath in. “You’ve gotten fat. Please don’t make me alter this dress so close to the gala.” Deep breath out. “This is all your fault. He’s dead because of you.” Deep breath in. “You stupid ungrateful bitch!” Deep breath out.

“Hey, its okay.” Victoria heard Marcus’s familiar voice and felt his hands clasp hers to stop her from hurting herself any further. She opened her eyes to a concerned brown pair looking back at her. He cupped her cheek, wiping away the tears she didn’t even know fell. Victoria quickly brushed him off, stepping away from him and wiping away her own tears.

“I’m fine.” She said, her smile forced.

“Tori, you don’t have to lie to me. I won’t judge.” Marcus slowly walked back over to her, making sure it was okay.

“I know I should feel sad today but I-I don’t. Does that make me a bad person?”

“There’s no wrong or right way on how you should be feeling.” Marcus said and Victoria such collapsed into his arms, gripping his lapels of his jacket as she cried, letting everything out.

At least when she got home, Victoria could count on some sense of normalcy. Her dad in his office doing work leaving the house to herself. That’s at least what she was hoping when she walked through the big oak front doors. Instead, a woman’s laugh could be heard from the kitchen along with her dad’s. Victoria slowly walked into the room, observing what was happening. “Hey, sweetie.” Her dad greeted, happier than he has been in a while. “This is Georgia from the mayor’s office. She’s helping with the business.”

“You must be Ginny’s mom, right?” Victoria said after a moment, looking the blonde women over.

“I am. Are you two friends?” She asked, her smile growing even bigger and her southern drawl thick.

“Great friends.” The brunette returned the smile, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the island before going upstairs, a plan hatching in her head.

Looking in the mirror, Victoria finished touching up her hair, her hand knocking over her drink all over Ginny who had just come over to wash her hands. “I am so sorry!” She gasped, feigning shock. “Here let me help you.” She quickly grabbed paper towels to try and help Ginny even though her efforts were pointless knowing the top will stain.

“Thanks.” She mumbled taking the towels to try and salvage her top.

Victoria leaned against the side, looking over Ginny with a sly grin. “If I was you I’d keep my hands to yourself.” Ginny gave the girl an incredulous look as she made her way to the door. “Same goes for your mom.”

Ginny was speechless, standing alone in the bathroom. She couldn’t believe what had happened, well she could but still. Her friends told her not to retaliate knowing that Victoria will make her life a living hell. What they didn’t know though was that Ginny also had a mean sting in her and never pulls her punches. She was a woman on a mission and made a beeline for Victoria after the final bell rang. That was why her friends followed her and Marcus hung around to see what was going to go.

“Can I help you?” She asked, already bored of the conversation that hadn’t started yet.

“You owe me a new top.” Ginny simply said, her arms crossed to help seem more intimidating.

“I told you it was an accident.” Victoria said innocently.

“Oh, please, you and I both know you did this on purpose.” She scoffed. “Why did you this?”

“Because, as classy as ever your mom has already got her claws into a new man, a recently widowed one at that.”

“You mean your dad, right?” Ginny asked before continuing not waiting for an answer because she already knew. “Because let’s not forget why he is a widow in the first place. You killed her, right? Your mom?”

“Ginny.” Victoria heard Marcus warn her, but she held her hand up.

“No, I wanna hear what she has to say.” She clenched her jaw trying to hide the tears that were threatening to fall.

“You killed your mom because you had enough of all the shit she put you through since your brother’s death which, was also your fault.” The silence that had fallen onto the group was suffocating. Everyone was waiting to see Victoria’s reaction, expecting her to breakdown or something. She didn’t though, the many years of hiding her emotions coming handy.

“You’ve what, been here five minutes and you think you know everything? Well, you don’t so how about you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut and run along unless you want me to destroy you and everything your mom built.” Victoria warned, walking away from the stunned crowd.

Her chest rose and her eyes burned from the tears she was holding back. Victoria ended up in the nearest bathroom, not caring if it was the boy’s or not. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the sink hard, trying to calm herself down. “What Ginny said isn’t true, you know that, right?” Victoria should’ve known that Marcus would have followed her. She continued to ignore him, staring down at the floor. “Hey, look at me.” He said, gently lift her chin up so she could see him.

“Why are you being nice to me? I pushed you away, remember? I treated you like shit.” Victoria said.

“Because even though you did that I still find my way back to you just like you find your way back to me.” Marcus leaned down, his lips ghosting hers. The same electric feeling coming back from their first kiss.

A/N: if you have any requests for Marcus please send them in

Tag List: @mayaslifeinabox @princess-of-the-fandoms @live--aloud @les-bio-lie @ivvitm1109 @seninjakitey @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @genius2050 @tiannawashere

#marcus baker imagine #marcus baker x oc #marcus baker #ginny and georgia imagine #ginny and georgia

[badmoonrising]

AFTERGLOW (Ellie Williams x female oc)

AKA, the Ellie suit smut I promised you guys! For this smut, I used one of my OC’s, Lux, from my Ellie fic “Love Like Ghosts.” I hope you all enjoy!

WARNINGS: heavy smut, fluff, drinking, mild anxiety, lesbian shenanigans (6K word count)

“None of this shit fits,” Lux calls to her roommate.

She hears the thundering, gleeful footfalls of her roommate, May. In the mirror, Lux can see her friend in the doorway of the bedroom, squealing excitedly. She scoffs. “May, I’m serious.” May just shakes her head.

“You look wonderful!” She cheers.

Lux would not describe a leather catsuit she purchased off of a questionable website as “wonderful.”

“Your makeup looks good too,” May continues, fully entering the room, rushing over to Lux to inspect her face. She put on fake lashes and eyeliner. She finds herself wanting to fidget with the eyelashes but restrains herself.

May is dressed as Glinda the Good Witch. Her puffy, pink, sparkly dress swallows her. A tiara she bought at the clearance section of Claire’s keeps getting tangled in her luscious blonde hair, but she looks impossibly happy.

Lux sighs. “This leather is the worst,” she whines, rubbing at her arm, which is itchy and trapped beneath the suit. “It looks sexy!” May argues, giggling. Lux glances at her reflection. The leather catsuit zips up to her chest, like that one Black Widow wears in the Marvel movies. She wears knee high black boots and a headband with cat ears in her hair.

She feels insecure in her costume. A fucking cat, like that’s so original. Her brain was filled with other things, exams and financial troubles and a suffocating type of stress she hates. So she threw together… whatever the hell this is.

“Ok, are we ready to go?” May asks. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The women collect their keys and phones, then leave the dingy apartment. Their heels click against the suspiciously sticky floors and down the steep concrete stairs. They thankfully live on the second floor and only have to climb down 2 flights, rather than the unlucky tenants living on the 7th floor.

During their walk to the car, nervousness rises within Lux. They’re going to a Halloween party hosted by friends from their sociology course, Dina and Jesse. May is better friends with them, but Lux doesn’t know them quite as well. She decides she will cling onto May for the duration of the party, her one semblance of comfort. But there’s also a little fizzle of excitement present, for the hopes she will make friends outside of her sweet, Southern belle roommate, who already has so many other friends. Lux loves to chat with people, surprisingly. She could talk and talk forever, about everything. But it’s hard to find people who like to talk like she does. May loves to talk, too, and she thinks that’s why they are akin to sisters.

They reach Lux’s beat up Acura from many moons ago. Lux slips into the drivers seat and May in the passengers. As they drive to Dina and Jesse’s apartment, which is further in the heart of the city, they talk about the mundane things, like their rent this month, what they need from the store, whether or not they remembered to take the trash out. And once they’re at a stoplight, they partake in frivolous gossip, discussing the girl from May’s psychology course who’s pregnant, the on-and-off again couple that lives next door, and their especially impassioned reunion from the previous night. They talk each other's ears off until they find a parking spot across the street from Jesse and Dina’s place. It rained earlier and they drive through a puddle as they park, the water sloshing up against the side of the car.

They unbuckle their seatbelts. May excitedly collects her belongings off her lap, carelessly bundling them under one arm, her other hand latched around the door handle. She curiously peeks over at Lux, whose fingers are still wrapped around the steering wheel, her mouth a dour frown. Her anxiety is rising, that dense, leaden feeling creeping over her all over again. “You look nervous,” May says, stating the obvious. Lux laughs humorlessly. “Yeah, I am.”

May keeps smiling, warm and sympathetic. Her smile reminds Lux of this really kind English teacher she has in high school, who read the words off the pages of their books tenderly and intricately. And she always smiled at Lux, even after she’d come in 10 minutes late to class. May resembles her unconditional kindness. “It’s gonna be alright, Lux. We’re gonna meet people, drink a little… maybe you’ll get lucky,” she assures, nudging Lux with her elbow, scratchy pink dress sleeve and all. Lux snorts at the last part. “Like that’ll ever happen.”

She takes a few deep breaths, May patting her back, before they exit the car. Lux locks the car, then steps into the puddly street, crossing it alongside May, who eagerly hops and skips with a childlike excitement, her glittery high heels clicking against the cement. They walk up onto the sidewalk, and into the apartment complex. It smells like weed and a mixture of perfumes. There’s an elevator. Lux groans with envy. “Imagine if we had one of these,” she murmurs, walking up to the shiny metal doors. May sighs, nodding. “That’d be wonderful.”

She presses the arrow pointing upwards, then they wait. People flood in behind them, costumed, but still familiar. Lux thinks she’s seen some of them on campus. The elevator reaches their floor. The doors open forcefully, rusty metal screeching. Lux and May step inside, and the other attendees pile in behind them. As the elevator fills up, they are squished to the back, trapped between some girls dressed as M&M’s and the deteriorating wall of the elevator. It smells like perfume, the cloyish, nauseating type in plastic bottles. There’s chatter and a myriad of drunken excitement.

They reach the third floor, where Dina and Jesse are located, and the little crowd pours out of the elevator. May and Lux follow the people down the hall, all the way to Jesse and Dina’s apartment, 6C. Lux can hear the music from outside the apartment, leaking through the walls and vibrating through her. May links her arm with Lux’s, squealing quietly with excitement as the apartment door is opened, and the crowd begins to squeeze through the threshold, and into the apartment.

Lux tries to appear relaxed as May drags her through the doorway, but her heart is beating so hard that it feels like it’s hurting. There are so many people, a sea of lewd costumes and the smell of beer spilled on the laminate floors. The music is impossibly loud, pouring from two speakers in the corner. Lux begins to wonder how so many people have squeezed into this averagely sized apartment when a body crashes into hers, arms hugging around her waist.

She can smell Dina’s perfume immediately, faint and delicate usually, but with her nose pressed to her hair, the scent of vanilla and chamomile is overwhelming. “You guys came!” She exclaims, keeping Lux in her grip, who is taken aback at Dina’s absolute warmth, despite them not knowing each other as well as her and May do.

“We did,” Lux laughs, patting Dina’s back as she pulls away. Her dark brown eyes are dilated and pink blossoms over her freckled cheeks. She brings a red solo up to her mouth, gulping down what Lux presumes to be beer. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” Lux half-jokes, earning a loud laugh from Dina, louder than it should be, because Lux wasn’t even really joking. “I am. Do you want anything to drink?” She asks, placing her hand on Lux’s arm tenderly. Lux nods. “I can get it, if you s-“ Dina stops her, shaking her head firmly. “Me and Jesse are hosts. We will gladly get you a drink,” she purrs jokingly, turning away from Lux, her hand still resting on her arm as she beckons Jesse over, who’s chatting with May.

He’s dressed as Patrick Bateman, his blood splattered coat swishing as he comes over to greet Lux and see what Dina needs. “Lux,” he greets, more lowkey than Dina as he smiles and pulls Lux in for a quick hug. “Hey,” she greets, nodding her head. “Can you get her a drink?” Dina asks him gently. He nods. “Of course.”

He disappears into the kitchenette. The white countertops are scattered with red solo cups and chip bags. “I love your costume, you look amazing!” Dina chirps, taking a step back to admire Lux’s appearance. Lux laughs, her cheeks reddening as she shakes her head. “I’m a cat, least creative costume ever.” Dina scoffs and shrugs. “No way. I’m not even in a costume,” she counters, motioning to her skirt and top.

Lux laughs. “You look great, don’t stress about it.”

May has disappeared in the crowd. Lux is only half-panicking, Dina’s warmth a comfort to her. “Here you go,” Jesse’s voice says from behind her suddenly. She turns around, and smiles thankfully at him. “Thanks, Jesse,” she murmurs, taking the red solo cup and nudging him with her shoulder.

She immediately gulps down half the cup of beer, the contents bitter and lukewarm in her throat. She cringes slightly. She’s never really liked beer, but it’s all they’ve got, and she needs a buzz to start loosening up. “Damn,” Jesse laughs, causing Lux to bring the cup away from her mouth, her cheeks reddening even more as she swipes a hand across her mouth.

“Just trying to loosen up,” she says, causing Dina’s eyes to light up. She steps forward, taking Lux’s hand. “Let’s do some networking,” she says, causing Lux’s eyes to widen. “Yeah, no,” she argues, shaking her head and laughing dryly. Dina is still smiling as she drags Lux away from her safe little corner of the apartment. “Nope. We can get you more beer, but for now, we’re gonna socialize.”

Lux groans as her and Dina penetrate the crowd. Several people greet Dina excitedly, hugging or kissing her cheek, their faces lighting up. A bitter little piece of Lux wishes people had the same reaction to her. Every time someone greets Dina, she eagerly introduces them to Lux. A few people, she recognizes from various classes or around campus. Their introductions to one another are lukewarm and stale, a halfhearted wave and meek “hello.” Dina isn’t satisfied.

Lux guzzles down the rest of her beer.

Dina drags her back to the kitchen, fetching her another cup, then back into the abyss they go.

This pattern goes on, and after two cups, Lux is beginning to feel slightly inebriated, her body warm and her eyes hazy as she drifts around the apartment with Dina. She greets people with a bit more warmth and openness, getting into mildly exciting small talk, even having a 5 minute conversation about her sociology professor’s lax policies with a guy from the class.

“Progress,” Dina whispers once they depart from that conversation. Lux laughs, warm and watery and unrestricted. Dina suddenly jerks her a bit, causing Lux to glance at her. She snaps her fingers, her eyes widening slightly. “I know someone you’d get along with perfectly. We’ve just gotta find her,” Dina says, murmuring the last part as she begins to stand on her tiptoes, glancing frantically around the myriad of faces.

Lux is curious to find this other person. She’s feeling relaxed now, that firecracker of crackling, red hot panic fizzling away into ash. She can feel herself falling into place. Dina drags her around. She doesn’t mind, her face warm and a tingly feeling in her stomach.

“Ellie!” She shouts. The name sounds familiar to Lux. She tries to pinpoint who that may be, but an overwhelming blur of phases comes to mind. A woman a few feet away turns around, her eyes widened slightly. Dina rushes forward, her hand still clutching Lux, dragging her forward, the contents of her red solo cup sloshing around. “I have someone for you to meet,” she says, turning to Lux and wiggling her eyebrows in a way that makes Lux scoff.

Lux gets a look at the girl before them. She has auburn-brown hair that just about reaches her shoulders, pulled back in a half up half down style. Her face is freckled and her skin is pale. She wears a dress shirt with a black tie, tucked into black slacks, leather dress shoes on her feet, and black leather gloves. Lux feels her face warming even more… she looks really good.

Lux stares at her, her eyes narrowing as she begins to make a connection. This is the girl from her philosophy class, she thinks, the one who sits at the front, but is impeccably silent and passive, but even every once in awhile, she’ll make a snarky comment or joke. Her comments are funny and rare, making the class erupt in laughter, and their professor always sighs.

“You’re from my philosophy class, I think?” Lux asks, unsure if her drunken brain is mixing something up. Ellie nods, smiling faintly. “Yeah. You’re Lux, right?” She nods. “Ellie?” “Yes,” she confirms, holding her hand out. Lux shakes it with the hand that’s not being crushed by Dina, who wears an excited little smirk.

“I can see you guys are getting along, so I’m gonna go grab a drink,” she says, giving Lux’s hand a squeeze. Lux rolls her eyes, making Dina laugh and pull her hand away. She turns away, weaving through the crowd in her apartment. Lux turns towards Ellie, who’s still smiling politely. “Well, how do you know Dina?” She asks, taking a sip of her beer. “We’ve been friends since high school,” she answers. “How do you know her?” Lux laughs. “Well, I didn’t really know her that well before tonight. I knew Jesse more… but that hasn’t stopped her from dragging me around.”

Ellie snorts, shaking her head. “Typical Dina.”

Lux doesn’t let them stand in silence. “What are you dressed as?” She asks, nodding her head towards Ellie, who smiles wider. “A mobster,” she answers, showing off her suit. Lux nods her head, laughing quietly. Ellie brings her cup to her mouth, her eyes scanning over Lux, making her feel small and exposed. “You’re a cat, I take it?” Lux feigns shock. “How’d you know?” Ellie chuckles, shaking her head, then standing on her tiptoes, glancing over Lux’s head. She then glances down at Lux. Lux didn’t realize how much taller Ellie is than her. Combined with the suit, she’s domineering physically. Lux’s stomach churns with a feeling she doesn’t want to put a name to. “Let’s find somewhere to sit,” Ellie says. Lux nods in agreement, swallowing the urge to smile. Ellie… wants to be near her, she thinks? She feels silly in the way her heart flutters as Ellie leads her over to the couch in the center of the apartment, glancing behind to make sure Lux is still with her every few seconds.

They reach the couch. It’s piled with people, including Jesse and Dina, who smile and wave excitedly at Ellie and Lux. Lux can see the mischievous glimmer in Dina’s eyes as she glances between her and Ellie. “Scooch,” Ellie says to Jesse, tapping him with the end of her dress shoe. He scoffs, rolling his eyes and rising from the sofa. Dina follows his lead with more eagerness. “Are you two enjoying yourselves?” Dina asks, trying to feign innocence, but failing when her mouth curves into a suggestive smile. “Stop,” Lux mouths to Dina furiously, making her purse her lips to swallow a giggle. Ellie turns towards Lux, her eyes roaming over her briefly, before turning back to Dina, nodding her head. “I’d say so.”

Dina’s eyes widen slightly, and she grins, absolutely and inconsolably thrilled. Lux rolls her eyes. “Okay, we’ll leave you two alone then,” Dina says, taking Jesse by his arm, and dragging him away. Lux hears her excitedly squeal as she distances herself. Ellie and her sit down on the sofa. With the several other party-goers bunched alongside them, the women are squished together, Lux’s leather clad knee digging into Ellie’s. Ellie’s legs are spread slightly, her arm dangling on the back of the couch. Lux finds herself staring at the woman crammed beside her, in awe at her effortless coolness and beauty. She thinks of all the makeup she’s wearing, the tight leather and accessorizing she’s done, then Ellie’s sleek, low maintenance look, the type of beauty anyone could envy. She’s not exactly feeling bad now… but absolutely perplexed at how people are born with the essence of pretty.

“You okay?” Ellie asks, her slit eyebrows furrowing together. Lux is rescued from the daze she finds herself falling into; a trap. She re-adjusts her focus onto Ellie. “Of course.”

Lux finishes her third beer, and discards the cup on the end table beside the couch. It’s sticky and overcrowded, making Lux wince slightly. “Do you normally go to parties?” Lux asks. Ellie shakes her head. “I tend to be quiet.” Lux nods. “I really love talking to people, but it’s hard to actually… leave the house, y’know?” Ellie’s eyes light up. She snorts, nodding immediately at Lux’s confession. “That’s exactly it… once I start talking, I wonder why I don’t do it more,” she elaborates. Lux giggles, bumping Ellie’s shoulder with her own. It feels like the restraints she’s enforced upon herself have disappeared with the help of the beer and Ellie’s company. “Maybe we should make a pact,” Lux suggests jokingly. Ellie smirks, nodding. “I’m down.”

The women talk more about their complicated relationships with socialization, then about their philosophy class, their rigid professor, and how painfully boring it is. Lux is halfway leaning on Ellie when she giggles, thinking of Ellie’s snarky comments in class. “Your comments in class every few days are like, my favorite thing. That’s the only part I pay attention to,” Lux admits. Her voice feels loud and resounding in her head. She doesn't think she can stop it. Ellie laughs, gazing at Lux with her hazy green eyes. “That’s generous of you,” she retorts, earning a laugh and gentle nudge from Lux. “I’m serious! You’re really funny, clever too.” Ellie smiles brightly, laughing to herself as she leans into Lux’s side. “I have a confession to make…” she murmurs, just loud enough for Lux to hear, like it’s something sacred and protected in the bumbling apartment. Lux raises an eyebrow, humming as confirmation for Ellie to continue. She sighs, rubbing her face with her left hand, body shaking slightly with laughter. “In class… I stare at you like, all the time.”

Lux’s eyes widen slightly, her lips curling into a little smirk. Everything inside of her feels ignited. “I never noticed,” she replies, earning a look of mild shock from Ellie. Lux shrugs. “Seriously, I didn’t,” she confirms, making Ellie scoff. “Really? I don’t know how. I literally stare at you like, every minute. I get like… trapped, y’know?” she explains. Lux chuckles, her face reddened and warm as she leans her head into Ellie’s shoulder. “That’s really sweet, Ellie. I’ll have to look out for you next class.” She can feel Ellie’s body tremble again as she chuckles. “I feel like a creep now,” she admits in a low, quiet voice that makes Lux shiver.

“You aren’t a creep. That’s quite flattering,” she assures. Ellie sighs. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve been freaking out all night over your costume,” Lux says, earning a look from Ellie, surprised and suspicious. “Really?” Lux nods. “You look… really good,” she confirms, her heart throbbing in her chest at this confession. Ellie smiles sweetly. “That’s nice of you to say,” she says. Lux quirks an eyebrow. “You don’t sound convinced,” she murmurs, earning a scoff from Ellie. “I’m sorry, but it’s surprising!” she exclaims, putting her hands up in a defensive manner. Lux rolls her eyes. “Just take my word for it.”

The fast-paced music thumping throughout the apartment fades into a slower song. It’s still impossibly loud, but pleasant all at once. Ellie holds her hand out, resting on Lux’s knee. “Wanna dance?” Lux cringes when she imagines embarrassing herself on the dancefloor with Ellie, but everything in her tingles when she thinks of Ellie’s hands on her waist. “Sure.”

They rise from the couch, Ellie relaxed, and Lux shaky and nervous. Ellie takes her hand, dragging her along, into the abyss of people dancing. She worries over every little thing. Are her hands too clammy? Will she trip in these boots? Does she smell bad? They stop. Ellie turns around, smiling faintly as her hands brace Lux’s waist. “Is this okay?” she whispers. “Yes,” Lux squeaks, apprehensively wrapping her arms behind Ellie’s neck. They’re so close. Lux can feel Ellie’s warm breath fanning her face, can see the tiny mole below her left eye, can hear the cotton of Ellie’s dress shirt squeaking against her leather catsuit.

“I really like your costume,” Ellie purrs quietly. Lux raises her eyebrows and smiles suggestively, forcing the confidence she can’t seem to muster right now. “I’m glad.” She moves closer, her chest pressed against Ellie’s, her mouth pressed to the shell of her ear. Her heart is thundering beneath the confines of her ribcage. “Would you be interested in going somewhere a little more,” she pauses, eying the crowd engulfing them. “...private?” Ellie chuckles, her arms hugging Lux’s waist tightly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They stand in the middle of the balmy, beer stained apartment, swaying even as the song switches back to some loud EDM beat. Lux could be here forever, she thinks. All she needs is Ellie’s arms, enveloping her, warming and keeping her safe like a blanket. “We can make our escape in a minute… I just really like being hugged by you,” Lux promises. Ellie softens, like she’s melting into Lux. She nuzzles her face into Lux’s dark hair, sighing happily.

“I really like hugging you too.”

They stand motionless, for seconds, minutes, hours, days, so on and so forth. Time feels far away, truly intangible, as they lean into one another. Lux eventually peels herself off of Ellie, smiling gently and taking Ellie’s hand. “Bedroom?” Ellie asks quietly, nodding towards the door at the end of the narrow hallway in the apartment. Lux immediately nods. “Anything.”

She leads Ellie this time, their fingers interwoven as they weave through the sweaty, increasingly inebriated crowd. An excitement she hasn’t felt in a long time fizzles through her in waves, festering as they walk down the hallway, and reach the end. Lux releases Ellie’s hand, opening the bedroom door, and going inside. It looks empty besides the bed. Lux sighs. “Hopefully this isn’t Jesse and Dina’s room.” Ellie laughs, shrugging her shoulders. “Too late now.”

Lux sits on the foot of the bed, folding her hands in her lap. Ellie stands before her, smiling absentmindedly, hands in her pockets. Lux glances up at her, the sight of Ellie towering over her only encouraging the flame in the pit of her stomach. “You’re so hot,” she blurts out, rising to her feet. Red blossoms over her cheeks. She feels impassioned and impulsive as she takes Ellie’s face in her hands. Ellie scoffs, shaking her head. “Please, you’re the gorgeous one,” she murmurs, leaning in, bridging the small gap between them as she kisses Lux, silencing any arguments she may have had.

Lux feels overcome with warmth and a glowing, radiant happiness as she kisses Ellie with a vehemence she’s never had for anyone else. Ellie’s hands slide over the leather of Lux’s catsuit, making squeaky noises that cause Lux to wince. Ellie notices this, and breaks their kiss, eyebrows furrowed and lips swollen. “Is everything alright?” She asks. Lux giggles breathlessly, nodding. “Y-yeah, it’s just… the leather, the sounds make me cringe,” she explains meekly. Ellie raises an eyebrow. “We’ll have to take it off… what a shame.”

Lux snorts, stepping away from Ellie. She begins to take off her boots, tugging the thigh high on her left thigh down, but Ellie stops her, placing her gloved hand on Lux’s knee, and kneeling down. “Let me help?” Lux nods, and returns to her sitting place on the end of the bed while Ellie removes her boots with less urgency.

Once the boots are off, Ellie rises back up, gazing down at Lux, who unzips the front of the catsuit, peeling it down her arms and waist. Ellie’s eyes widen every so slightly, her cheeks blossoming red when she sees that Lux’s chest is bare. “No bra?” She asks, meaning to sound playful, but her voice comes out deep and dark and lustful. Lux swallows the lump in her throat and nods, before standing up.

“Can you help?” She asks. Ellie immediately nods, and helps peel the suit down the rest of her body. She drags the leather down Lux’s hips, then her thighs, and down her calves and off of her feet. She discards the suit, then turns back towards Lux, stepping forward. Lux places her hands on Ellie’s neck, gently pulling her into her chest, kissing her mouth. The leather of her gloves slides over the nape of Lux’s neck, delicate yet overpowering. Her tongue slips into Lux’s mouth, the velvety leather covering her fingers sliding down her shoulders. Lux groans quietly against Ellie, her hands bracing Ellie’s neck a bit tighter.

Ellie pulls away, the tip of her nose brushing against Lux’s. “Lay down,” she demands quietly. Lux obeys, sitting back on the bed, lying back into the stiff mattress. In Ellie’s grasp, any semblance of wanting to dominate fades away, replaced by a dizzying thirst to be controlled. Ellie climbs over her, her mouth a firm line. She looks wonderful like this, Lux thinks, above her, dressed in that crisp suit, her black satin tie tickling her chest.

Ellie is straddling her thighs briefly as she moves to remove her gloves, but Lux quickly stops her, gently grabbing her wrists. Ellie glances at her, raising an eyebrow, questioning her. “Leave the gloves on,” she suggests, begs, breathlessly. Ellie’s mouth quirks into a dark, twisted little smile that makes Lux shudder. “As you wish.”

Ellie leans down, her lips peppering delicate, teasing kisses on Lux’s throat. Her gloved hands rub over Lux’s stomach and hips. The rough leather combined with the silken feel of Ellie’s mouth sends a chill across the back of her neck, her dark eyes shutting, nimble fingers tangling in Ellie’s hair. Her mouth travels downwards, tongue dancing over Lux’s sternum, then her abs, and then, just below her belly button, just above the warmth between her thighs. Ellie’s hair tickles her skin. Lux can see tiny goosebumps erupting over her arms and legs. Ellie’s fingers tuck into the waistband of Lux’s underwear. She looks up from her resting place atop Lux’s thighs. Her expression is driven and serious, green eyes nearly consumed by black. “Are you okay up there?” she asks, voice raspy and torn with want.

“Yes,” Lux breathes, extending her arm down to Ellie, and caressing her flustered face with her thumb. Ellie smiles, and places her hand over Lux’s, bringing it to her lips, and kissing it gently. Lux’s heart feels like it’s melting into a pile of warmth, saccharine and blithe. She brings her hand back to her side while Ellie takes off her panties. She discards the black lacy underwear on the ground. Her hands part Lux’s thighs. Lux can feel her heart throbbing with a painful intensity, the hair on the back of her neck prickling up when Ellie’s fingers begin to rub her clit. She gasps softly, her body arching, leaning into Ellie’s touch.

“Fuck,” she hisses, pressing herself against Ellie’s hand subconsciously, like it’s secondnature. Ellie then removes her fingers, sliding down the bed, and placing herself on the floor, her knees bent into the stained carpet as she beckons Lux down. She scoots down, her legs dangling over the mattress. Ellie slots herself between Lux’s thighs, reapplying her fingers. Lux closes her eyes, lips parting as she feels herself dipping back into the bed. Ellie quickly loops her free hand around Lux’s back, leathery fingers pressing against her spine to hold her upright. “Eyes open, I want to see you,” she commands. Lux doesn’t have a second thought. Ellie’s altered something in her, a fundamental gear that has operated forever in her, a staunchly independent spirit, everything she’s ever done working in tandem with what she wants. But she mindlessly obeys the girl kneeling between her legs, any semblance of resistance fading into submission.

Her warm, hazy eyes meet Ellie’s, sharp and blown wide, like those of a mad man. But she’s still in control, perfectly competent, meanwhile, Lux can barely hold herself together, melting against Ellie’s skilled fingers. “Ellie,” she begins, her voice a runny whine, wanting more pressure on her clit. Ellie simply raises an eyebrow, seizing the movement of her hand. “Oh, should I stop?” she says, sounding devastatingly serious. “No!” Lux immediately blurts out. Her own voice echoes in her mind, sounding desperate and unstable. She would cringe if she wasn’t nearly in tears over a girl she met at a party fingering her.

“I… I want it harder.” Ellie strokes the pad of her thumb over Lux’s clit, butterfly light kisses from the leather of her glove that leave her twitching. Ellie leans down, pressing a tedious kiss to her inner thigh. She stares up at Lux. “Can you ask nicely?” she murmurs. Lux is embarrassed at the way her body tingles and softens at Ellie’s word. “Please, Ellie,” she pleads, quiet, docile. Ellie gives her what she wants and more.

Her gloved fingers press harder against Lux’s clit, rubbing tedious, intentional circles. This is enough to make Lux moan, her entire body twitching with each rub Ellie offers. Then, Ellie bows her head completely. Lux can feel the jarring sensation of Ellie’s wet tongue against her pussy, her fingers still on her clit. The combination of her hand and mouth is earth-shattering, Lux thinks, maybe being a bit generous in such a heated moment. The surprising addition sends her reeling, her back only held upwards by Ellie’s free hand. Lux rests her leg on Ellie’s shoulder, the soft fat of her thigh grazing the side of Ellie’s head. Ellie groans, the sound reverberating against Lux. Her face is beet red, sweat beginning to dribble down her back. She begins to grind herself against Ellie’s tongue and fingers, lost in a cacophony of moans and gasps. She opens her eyes, staring down at Ellie, who’s gaze remains, unwavering and determined to make Lux come.

“You look so pretty like this,” she drawls, her lips brushing against the twitching, wet warmth between Lux’s thighs. Her chest rises and falls as Ellie begins to eat her out again, everything tingly and slick. She feels out of control in a wonderful way, all earthly responsibilities suspended, autonomy seized for the night. “Ellie,” she whimpers, her foot pressing into Ellie’s back, pushing her closer. Ellie can feel her body seizing, the flushing on her face and chest. “Not yet,” she demands. She then begins to lick Lux again, fingers moving hard and fast. The roughness of the leather and the softness of her tongue is making the thing Ellie has tasked her with impossible. “I-I can’t,” she whines. Ellie stops licking again, and laughs dryly. “Then beg for it.” She resumes her actions, tongue prodding Lux’s entrance, earning a particularly loud moan from her. “F-fuck, please, Ellie, p-please,” she breathes. “Please what?” Ellie counters. Lux sighs, and Ellie chuckles wickedly.

“Please let me come.” Ellie smiles for the first time in their encounter. “Good girl.”

She licks and moves her fingers with as much skill as she can muster. Her hand rubs Lux’s back as her chest begins rising and falling again, her dark eyes focused on Ellie’s eyes. “God, you’re perfect, Lux. Such a good girl,” she encourages, moving her mouth down, kissing and gently biting Lux’s inner thighs. “O-oh,” Lux gasps, her eyebrows furrowing together, hand extending down, cupping Ellie’s. Something warm and powerful and profound is unleashed in Lux, like a tide passing over her, washing away everything that has ever spurred pain, anything that’s not absolute pleasure and warmth. It feels like some odd, dramatic awakening, crooning in a peak of sheer pleasure.

The pleasure that exploded like fireworks begins to fizzle into a relaxation, her body hunching over, everything between her legs tingly and sensitive in the afterglow. Ellie wraps both hands around her waist, resting her head on Lux’s thighs, smiling tenderly. Lux wraps her arms around Ellie’s shoulders, like they’re shielding each other from the world outside of this crummy apartment. “Was I okay?” Ellie asks, sounding meek, unlike the fierce woman she was a moment ago.

Lux laughs, rubbing Ellie’s upper back. “You were wonderful.”

She lifts her head, blushing up at Lux. “Do you want anything?” Lux whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of Ellie’s head, like it’s instinct. She shakes her head, and stands up, only to place herself on the foot of the bed, body leaning into Lux’s side. “Nah, I’m pretty tired, honestly… but maybe we could see each other again?”

Ellie presses a kiss to Lux’s freckled shoulder. She nods. “I would love to see you again.”

They stay there as the night yawns on, cocooned in the safe afterglow of one another.

#ellie williams x reader #the last of us #tlou #ellie williams #tlou ellie #ellie tlou #fanfic

[willel]

Oh. You know a movie Stranger Things took inspiration from that takes place in California?

I totally forgot about this. 👀

It's called.... Poltergeist! Shocking right?

If you haven't seen Poltergeist (1982), you definitely should. It's almost required watching at this point. Don't expect it to be super scary by today's horror movie standards. At best it'd be PG-13 and it was made before PG-13 was a thing so it's just PG.

If you haven't seen the movie, SPOILERS!

Poltergeist takes place in a newer housing development in California.

The movie starts off similarly to Stranger Things. We see the every day lives of these characters living their best life, chilling during a sunny afternoon. The dad is watching a football game with the boys. The mom is cooking food I think. The kids are playing around. Etc.

As the movie progresses, weird stuff starts happening throughout the home. The daughter, Carol Anne, starts hearing voices throughout the house and the TVs. Their kitchen becomes a weird playground for the ghosts where they rearrange the seating and even send you flying across the room (in a good way) if you sit in the right spot. It's all innocent fun.

Until one night, a not so friendly entity seems to make itself known. During the night of the storm, the tree in their yard becomes possessed and literally tries to eat their son. While they're distracted with that, the evil spirit kidnaps Carol Anne through her own closet to another dimension.

From there, the plot plays out similarly to Stranger Things. Carol Anne (aka Will Byers) still somehow makes her presence known to her family, but mostly her mother Diane (who is confirmed in sequel films to be supernaturally sensitive, as is Carol Anne herself hence the kidnapping by the spirits)

With the help of an "expert" supernatural team, Diane braves entering the dimension herself to get Carol Anne out.

The peace doesn't last long though. Angered that Carol Anne was taken from it, the main evil spirit goes nuclear, attacking the family while the father, Steven, was away for a few hours. The spirit tries again to drag Carol Anne AND her brother back to the other side.

Diane, in trying to rescue her babies, does everything she can to get to them. At some point she ends up outside and falls into their half built pool. Bodies them float out of the pool all around her. It's pretty scary.

Unbeknownst to the main characters and their neighbors, the houses were built on top of a cemetery. Problem is, they only moved the headstones, not the bodies. That's why all the spirits are around, good and bad.

They manage to narrowly escape the house with the children as the house starts to collapse in on itself until it quite literally disappears. The rest of the neighborhood also starts to fall apart as caskets and skeletons just start shooting out of the ground like a zombie movie except the zombies don't actually move, they just wanted to let you know they're chilling down below. Lol

But back to the main reason I wrote this post...

Wouldn't it be interesting if the Byers got this awesome deal on this awesome house in California, something they wouldn't normally be able to afford. But then everything starts falling apart in the house or something?

Like "Wow, for some reason, this house is weirdly close to the boundary between the upside down and right side up!"

How that would be possible, I dunno. Maybe the houses were build on some old military or government facility that wasn't properly cleaned or sealed up. That happens right?

I just looked it up. Yep. The Department of Energy (aka the same people from Hawkins Lab)

The Santa Susana Field Laboratory is a complex of industrial research and development facilities located on a 2,668-acre (1,080 ha)[1] portion of the Southern California Simi Hills in Simi Valley, California. It was used mainly for the development and testing of liquid-propellant rocket engines for the United States space program from 1949 to 2006,[1] nuclear reactors from 1953 to 1980 and the operation of a U.S. government-sponsored liquid metals research center from 1966 to 1998.[2] The site is located approximately 7 miles (11 km) northwest from the community of Canoga Park and approximately 30 miles (48 km) northwest of Downtown Los Angeles. Sage Ranch Park is adjacent on part of the northern boundary and the community of Bell Canyon along the entire southern boundary.

Apparently the site is/was still there and is very contaminated, affecting the communities surrounding it.

So here's a... theory, I guess? Or just a fanfiction idea. The Byers get this awesome deal for this brand new house. The Byers, the people who usually can't afford anything, gets this new house and it's SO nice. Despite all the angst they probably still feel after season 3, they all gotta admit a new house is pretty awesome and they love it?

But the longer they live there (which I imagine won't be too long), weird stuff starts happening around them. Maybe El gets nightmares. Maybe they feel like they're being watched. Maybe Will continues getting the horrible chill down his spine.

And they soon realize not only is the Department of Energy down the street (the same government agency behind El's horrific childhood), they also have secretly contaminated the entire surrounding area and have possibly weakened the barrier between the real world and the Upside Down or something???

I dunno. Like I said, at least it'd be a cool fanfiction idea!

Like seriously, I would totally read this.

The Byers get this weird house deal in California. They love it. Joyce and Jonathan get jobs. Jonathan gets a friend, Joyce too maybe. Everything seems kinda ok for once.

But El and Will's school sucks. El starts having nightmares. Will starts getting chills he can't get rid of. Jonathan's friend starts telling him strangely familiar weird things he saw once while he was high. Joyce notices someone is following her around.

Yessssssss

Hard part is, I have no idea how I'd tie a fic like that back into Hawkin's or the whole Hopper plot. Hm.

#stranger things #poltergeist #will byers #el hopper #jane hopper #joyce byers #jonathan byers #theory

[madzfm]

˛ ⠀ * ⠀ ★ ⠀  JESSICA ALEXANDER  .   CIS FEMALE  .  SHE / HER      ⧽ ⠀ have  you  seen  the  786  latest  post  ?  sources  say  they  have  some  serious  dirt  on  the  child  of  a  big  time   COUNTRY MUSIC STARS  .   they  haven’t  revealed  who  it was  yet  but  my  best  is  on  MADISON  DARLING  !  ever  since  that  last  update  about  how  she  ALLEGEDLY GOT CAUGHT SPORTING A BABY BUMP LAST YEAR BEFORE GHOSTING EVERYONE  i  don’t  put  anything  pass  them  .  i  mean  ,  these  celebrity  kids  are  just  out  of  control  .   they  do  whatever  they  want  ,  whenever  they  want  and  are  ungrateful  in  the  process  !!  i  mean  take  MADDIE  for  example  ,  they’re  a  TWENTY THREE  year  old  DANCER  ,  and  what  did  they  do  to  get  there  ?  have  famous  parents  !  like  hello  ,  just  because  you HAVE BEEN IN MUSIC VIDEOS WITH A-LIST MUSICIANS doesn’t  mean  you  actually  deserved  it  .   i’m   glad   the   786   is   taking   them   down   a   notch   .   it’s   about   time   someone   does   .

             𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐂  /  𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓  / 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

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hey ... hey ... how y’all doin’ ?  i’m sooo excited to be here , besties ! sorry i’m late with the intro , it’s been a looooong weekend for me but i’m eager to get the ball rolling . so here’s the rundown , the google doc has a full bio + more stats + headcanons but i don’t expect anyone to actually read all that nonsense so i’ve tried my best to sum it up below ( it’s still kinda long tho i’m sorry y’all i ramble too much ). i’m always down to talk plots & threw a few wanted connection ideas at the bottom , so feel free to hmu on discord any time <3 but yes okay let’s get into it

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━━     ˊ     *     𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬  . .

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞. madison dallas darling .   𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞(𝐬). maddie , mads .   𝐝𝐨𝐛. april 14 , 1998 .   𝐚𝐠𝐞. twenty - three .   𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜. aries sun , libra moon , leo asc .   𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫. cis female .   𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬. she / her .   𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. bisexual .  𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞. nashville , tn .   𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 5ft 5in .  𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. high school diploma .   𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. dancer / realty tv personality .   𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬. robert “robbie” darling - father . dixie darling - mother . delaney darling - sister .   𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬. compassionate , imaginative , family-oriented  , devoted , generous , sympathetic , idealistic , self critical , naive , competitive , indecisive , impressionable , elusive , sensitive .

━━     ˊ     *     𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲 . .

tw : things like shitty controlling parents , injury , & pregnancy are mentioned

   born & raised in nashville , tennessee , madison is the daughter of two country music icons ( basically blake shelton & miranda lambert ) & has only ever known a life in the spotlight . her parents were a widely adored it couple who shared their lives with millions of viewers across the world with their reality tv show . at 7pm cst you could tune in to watch robbie & dixie raise their two daughters - having some good ol’ wholesome family fun while juggling responsibilities that come with being famous artists . to any outsider looking in , they seemed like the perfect family . a loving father , a supportive mother , two prim & proper daughters that collected accolade after accolade in every pageant & talent competition they ever entered . but you shouldn’t believe everything you see on tv , even if it’s deceptively labeled as “reality” .

   when the cameras weren’t rolling , the darling sisters were left under their mother’s restrictive control . dixie darling treated her daughters more like dolls than living beings , madison & delaney were basically pretty little accessories . while robbie never dared to mistreat his daughters , he was around a lot less than the show made it seem - often touring the world rather than spending quality time with his girls . plus , dixie & robbie seemed to endlessly fight with one another - nearly every childhood memory madison has of her parents involves them yelling . if she wanted to see them looking happy & in love , she’d have to tune in to the fabricated reality on their own show to get a taste of what a happy , loving family looks like . 

   you can’t be a child of dixie darling without being exploited in some way . while delaney was pushed into the music scene , madison was shoved into the world of dance . she took every class that was offered & practiced for hours upon hours to perfect her craft . her sister had taken after their folks with the singing voice of an angel & the looks to rival that of miss universe , meanwhile maddie was good for two things : dance & doing whatever her mother said . so when dixie said to twirl , she twirled , when she said do a grand jeté, maddie asked how high & then over performed like the good little girl she was trained to be .

   it wasn’t until her parents got divorced & maddie moved to miami to be with her sister , her father , & her father’s new girlfriend that she sort of came out ( or more accruately described as dragged out ) of her timid , non - confrontational , subservient shell . with a longer leash , she had more freedom to roam far & wide . no one tried to tell her what to do or who to talk to & considering she was just a privileged teenager with endless funds & the status to get away with just about anything , you can imagine how badly that went . every mistake she made was broadcasted onto people’s televisions or headlined in tabloids . it was stressful , growing up & messing up all under the watchful gaze of millions of people who felt entitled to berate her for her poor life decisions . just because they watched her grow up on tv didn’t mean they actually knew anything about her . & yet so many people shared their unsolicited opinions on her & her life . it drove her insame .

   maddie wasn’t handling the stress of being well known very well . she wanted a break from it all , to just go somewhere far away where no one knew her name & just live by herself . it was a silly dream . nothing she’d ever actively pursue . but the universe has a funny way of giving us a taste of what we think we want just to teach us a lesson . 

   so over a year ago , maddie found out that she was pregnant . it was a shock to say the least . she kept it a close guarded secret from everyone but her sister for awhile . not only was it a life changing development , but it was one thing that she was determined not to share with the rest of the world . with the idea of running away in continuous loop in the back of her mind , she came up with a plan to buy herself some time . she faked a really bad injury during a performance & let the media run with saying she might not be able to walk , let alone dance ever again . pushing the cover story even further , she claimed to be in need of intense physical therapy & sought after it in a luxurious private lodge in new zealand . that’s where she stayed during her year away , letting no outsiders come visit while she figured out how she was going to move forward with this baby growing inside of her .

   so maddie finally got the break she was looking for even if it wasn’t under the circumstances that she would’ve liked . but she adapted to the situation . in her time away , she went through the entire pregnancy but it was basically decided for her by her parents that it was best to give the baby up for adoption . the little girl would be in good care by a couple that was a family friend of the darlings . better to bless someone who wanted a baby but couldn’t have one than for maddie to keep her daughter when she wasn’t in a place to take care of her . it broke her heart , honestly . she had grown quite attached to the baby & even entertained the idea of being a single mom even though she knew her own mom would never let that happen - it would go against the strict narrative that they try to put out there about the darling family .

   after a year away , maddie is back in miami without anyone knowing what really happened . she keeps using the “injury” as the excuse for her absence from the spotlight . anyone really close to her might be able to tell that something’s off , but she’s trying so hard to act like everything is fine & nothing has changed at all . she might even be able to get away with her lies - if it wasn’t for that damn 786 website threatening to spill the tea & make her life hell .

━━     ˊ     *     𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 & 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 . .

   a wannabe good girl gone bad but harbors a deep rooted fear of being a disappointment & a failure due to her mom’s strict parenting style . so like she wants to be rebellious & come across as carefree but internally she’s panic screaming always ( honestly relatable like same , girl )

   well - mannered in a sweet southern belle kind of way with her please’s & thank you’s & calling everyone ma’am & sir out of respect & what not

   biiiig mom friend energy . she just wants to make sure that everyone is taken care of . she can get very protective & a little helicopter parent-y with her friends . it probably has something to do with control issues that she doesn’t realize she has but we don’t have time to unpack that rn akjsdbk

   before her year away i want to say that she was a lot more people please-y / overly eager to please ?? like rarely said no to people that asked for favors , always agreed to any plans people invited her to out of courtesy , & what have you . but now i see her as being a little less patient than before & a little bit more unhinged & quick to shut down or snap

   guillable ! naive ! dumb as hell ! believes that everyone was raised with the same values as her & has a big of a heart like she does so she’s easily subjectable to getting her feelings hurt & i say let it happen !!

   wants to be mysterious so bad but there is very little known about her & her life that isn’t public knowledge . she could get shit on by a bird & it’ll probably become a twitter highlight idk she just wants to believe she’s imperceptible & acts all evasive in order to keep her private life private but that rarely ever has the desired effect

    one of those annoying rich & famous people that’s like “i wasn’t meant to be famous . i was meant to have a normal life & be a normal person” but like !! she is actually so out of touch with reality & probably couldn’t tell you how much milk is at the grocery store because she has people to do mundane day to day things for her . spoiled little privileged rich girl , let’s be real . her dad tried to keep her humble , idk what happened

   dance style / career is pretty much inspired by maddie ziegler but also not really bc i am very picky & choosey about which aspects of her career i’m pulling from

   boring on social media because she hardly ever posts & is very short with her captions & tweets when she does make an appearance online every blue moon 

   dodges questions about what she’s been up to while she was gone like she’s in the matrix or something . all that pr training her mom put her through when she was younger is coming in handy because she has not given a single honest , straight answer in the months she’s been back . would rather talk about anything else than herself right now so don’t be surprised if she pulls some random subject changes out of her ass if people get nosy . i’m sure the common conspiracy is that maddie was so embarrassed by the fall on stage that she went into hiding 

   delaney is the kim kardashian & britney spears of the family while madison is the kourtney & the jamie lynn xoxo

━━     ˊ     *     𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 . .

ride or die , bad influence , frenemies , family friends , good influence , confidant , rival , girl squad , non judging breakfast club , childhood friend , unlikely friend , exes on good terms , exes on bad terms , neighbors , pr friendship , pr enemy , social media mutuals , party buddies , secret friend , secret hook - up , crush , friends with benefits , adventure buddy , enemy with benefits , dance partners , mentors , mentees , sibling like relationship , will they won’t they , people suspicious of her & her supposed “injury” , father of her baby 👀 jk ..... unless

#786intro #template credit to yeonjvnz on deviantart ! #they're linked in the source <3

[ambitionsource]

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

[artnerd1123]

A Familiar World

Land On Your Feet ——————————————-

Before Journal was “Journal,” he was Theodore: a mischievous kid with a handful of charm and a whole lotta stubbornness. On a normal trip to town, he sees something strange that would change his life. For better or worse, the kid has yet to find out...  

The masterpost for AFW can be found here. The chapter post for AFW can be found here.

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ultimately I had planned for there to be a lot more going on here, but the chapter got way too long and i need validation to live. i’ll get on my other plans as i can, but there’s this for now! enjoy!

“Are we there yet?” “No, not yet.” “Are we there yet?!” “No, not yet.” “Are we THERE YET?!” “No, not y-” “Would you guys quit it back there?! I can’t focus on driving!” “Just ignore them, we’re almost there, anyway…” Such was the standard soundtrack on trips like these. The wagon bumped along the well worn dirt road, the horses kicking up dust as they went. The front row of the wagon was full to capacity- four people across, full of two parents and two elder children, with no space to spare for the four younger kids in the back. Just a farming family on their way to marketplace, laden down with kids and corn. Another standard around here. Three of the kids tumbled around among the market-boud corn, fooling around in the way bored children do. The last sat with his legs dangling over the back of the cart. The farmer boy kicked his feet idly, green eyed gaze sliding over the brush and wide fields along the road. A shock of messy brown curls rustled in the breeze. He reached up to smooth it down. It needed to stay in the cool swooshing style he’d seen on the cover of his older brother’s novels. His plaid tunic hung loosely off his lanky frame, his leggings more like a pair of pillowcases. Hand me downs. Nothing he wasn’t used to. He’d stuffed the ends of his leggings into his boots. Snatched a belt from his father’s closet to cinch the tunic around his waist. A patchwork look, sure, but he was working on it. Heroes can start off a little rough, his books told him. They soak in every little trip until they stumble into adventure. He believed it wholeheartedly. Though he did wish there was more action on their town trips. Heaving a sigh, he pulled his legs under him. Now crouching on the back of the cart, he considered his next move. He could hear whispers of “do a flip- backflip-! Do it do it-” behind him. He tensed his legs, holding tight to the back of the cart. Coiled to flip backwards, he cast a mischievous glance back at his siblings- And caught his mother’s eyes. “Theodore, don’t y’all dare!” her sharp voice flew back. “How many times’ve ah told ya ta stop doin’ that? Yer gonna get hurt ‘n knock corn outta the cart!” “Sorry ma,” Theodore said sheepishly, “cain’t help myself…” He let himself flop backwards instead. His siblings giggled and squawked as he did so, tossing corn at him. Grumbling from the front of the cart said his mother wasn’t amused. But it was fine, when was she? “Theo theo theo!!!” his youngest sister- Elise- chattered. “Whaddaya think we’re gon’ see in town today???” “Probably nothing cool,” Nilo piped up, his arms crossed defiantly. Always the cynic, his younger brother. “There’s never anythin’ cool in town…” “Don’t be so sure!” a chipper voice piped up, another slinging an arm around Nilo’s shoulders. “There could be ghosts ‘er somethin!!!” Nilo’s twin, Tyler, was definitely the more energetic of the pair. Theodore couldn’t help but chuckle at their antics. “We’ll find out when we get there, eh?” he grinned. Popping his collar, he leaned in conspiratorially. “Ah heard from Jessie that th’ candyman’s in town again,” he whispered. His siblings’ eyes gleamed in excitement. “Ah can prolly buy ‘n sneak a bag ‘er two inta th’ wagon. Jes make sure y’all stick by ma ‘n pa this time.” “We don’ want a repeat a’ last month,” Nilo snickered, nudging his twin. “Ay, you shuttit, I did mah part!” Tyler squeaked. “‘S not mah fault pa decided ta check th’ cart fer Theo!” “Y’all both need ta pay attention ta what’s goin on ‘round ya,” Elise giggled. “I’ve always been better at coverin’ than y’all.” “Hey now, one week at a time,” Theodore shook his head, beaming widely. “We’ll git it this time. Ah promise.” Theodore cast a look at the cart’s front row. Dean and Carrie were busy talking to ma and pa about something or other. Crop pricing, probably. Didn’t seem like anyone heard anything. Good. He stuck his hand out, winking at his siblings. “Hands in fer good luck?” Giggling and smiling, his siblings stuck their hands on top of his. “Hands in!” “You bet!” “We gon’ git it…!” “Awrite. Let’s get this show on th’ road…”

The wagon trundled into town half an hour later, the horses snorting as their hooves clacked on a cobblestone road. Sun beaten buildings lined the path, worn wooden sides tacked up with posters and shoddy repair jobs. Plenty of people milled about between them. The crowds parted ways lazily around the wagon, a couple people waving or shouting out a greeting. Standard trip. Standard town. Standard people. The kids in the back didn’t pay mind to any of it. Their eyes were fixed on the approaching town square. Today it was chock full of wagons just like theirs. Wheat, beans, hay, millet- you name a crop, someone was probably selling it. A few travelling merchants had their cart shops set up, too. Bright colors and fabric hangings adorned their stalls. All the better to catch someone’s eye. A good thing, too. That’s what the kids were really interested in. Theodore and his siblings exchanged glances as their parents guided the cart into their usual space. He’d have to work fast today. His siblings had better be on their game. The gentle rock of the wagon as his father climbed to the ground drew him from his thoughts. “Awright y’all,” His father called out, hands on his hips. “I wanna see alla’y’all helpin with the sellin today. Les’ git movin’.” Dean and Carrie hopped down after pa, both instantly pulling down their usual stall crates to set up. So those three wouldn’t be a problem- hopefully. He trusted his partners in crime to keep them busy. They’d scrambled down after the group, already squabbling about something or over. Nah. It was ma he worried about. Ma was busy adjusting her large sunhat and southern belle’s dress, swiping off dust from the road. He tried to look as innocent as possible when she turned to face him. “Yer pa’s gonna help Dean ‘n Carrie up front with handlin’ th’ gold,” his mother explained firmly, “so I don’ wanna hear of any funny business goin’ on while ah’m out browsin’.” “Of course, ma,” Theodore nodded. “We’ll be mindin’ th’ shop. Ya don’t gotta worry.” “Mmh. Thas’ what y’all said last month,” his mother huffed. “Ah expect more a’ all of you. No funny dancin’ around ’r tumblin in the dirt ‘r runnin off ta who knows where ‘n scarin us half ta death, or any’a that.” “I getcha, I getcha…” Theodore’s fingers twitched up towards his hair, fidgeting nervously. “I promise we’ll be handlin things here.” Mostly. “Awrite,” his mother said drily. She sighed, giving her sunhat one last tug before hopping down. “An quit playin with yer hair, Theo. If y’all keep treatin it like a toy, we’re cuttin it off.” His hands fell quick as a hare, knuckles nearly knocking them against the wagon’s wood. “Thas’ what ah thought.” Theodore watched her walk off into the marketplace, face burning a bit. Revaew, he had to quit doing that in front of his parents. There was no way he’d let them ruin his look. Sheesh. He waited until ma quit glancing back to move. He slid off the cart, making his way around to the gated back. He grunted as he slid his hands under it, carefully unhooking and lowering the gate so none of the corn spilled out. Around him, he could hear Nilo and Tyler arguing over who’d get to put the sign out. Dean and Carrie would get on that after they finished stall setup. And Elise was up with pa, using her influence as a papa’s girl to keep his eyes on her. Perfect. He fooled around in the back for a little longer, pretending to inspect the corn. He just needed an opening. Just a small one, so he could slip out. Eventually, the moment came. With all three of his partners in crime deep in bickering, squabbling, and poking at things they shouldn’t, the three elders had their hands full and then some. Theodore managed to sneak out easily around the back. He ran along the cramped alleyway behind the stalls, making sure to put plenty of distance between his home wagon and himself. He popped out in the middle of the silk merchants’ stall. They gave him a strange look at first. But when he swaggered right past, hands tucked in his belt and gaze comfortably uninterested, they turned back to business. Good. Nobody ever pays attention if you’ve got enough confidence, he thought smugly. The marketplace spread vibrant and dusty before him. The usual area sellers were shouting to sell their wares much farther down the street. The town kept this place open for merchants. They were hard to come by, sure. But they had their busy weeks. Theodore grinned as the mix of colors, smells, and sounds swirled around him. “Silk! Fresh spun and cut to a length of your liking!” “Handmade bags and jackets! All cheap! Come’n get it!” “Exotic plants! Guaranteed to keep great and make even greater fruit!” “Toys for the little ones! Wind ups, drag alongs, stuffies, we got it all!” Oh yeah. This was a busy one. He sauntered down the cobblestone paths, keeping his eyes peeled for the swirls and starbursts of the candy stall. The more he walked, the more confused he got. Funnel cake, cotton candy, sweet tarts… all good things, but not something he could stash and hide on the ride home. Where in Revaew’s green world was the candy stall? It had to be somewhere- he trusted Jessie to know what was going on around town. If he doesn’, I’ll have ta find someone better ta be my informant, Theodore thought to himself. Nevertheless, he kept moving. Casual glances from one side of the road to the other and a meandering pace let him blend in with all the other market goers. At least, enough to mask his nervousness. C’mon… his siblings would be so disappointed if he didn’t find- Suddenly, he froze, eyes going wide. Oh no. Oh no. Not ten feet from him stood his mother. She wasn’t facing him, thankfully, but she was right there. If she so much as turned her head the slightest bit, she’d see him. And if she saw him now, he and his siblings be in so much trouble- Not thinking, the boy ducked behind the nearest stall, sprinting back along the alleyways behind the market. Ducking and weaving between different paths, he tried not to focus on the sound of footsteps and squawks from someone trying to tail him. All he wanted to do was get as much distance between his mother and himself before she noticed. He ran faster, ducking down alley after alley, desperation and adrenaline fuelling his mad dash. He could not get caught, he just had to find the candy stall and head back, he- he- Wait a minute. Where was he? Theodore slowed to a stop, leaning heavily on a nearby building. He glanced around as he tried to catch his breath. These were alleyways, sure. But somehow he’d managed to stray from the ones behind the marketplace. Through the gaps of the buildings, he could see the wide open fields and scrub of town outskirts. The hustle and bustle of town echoed far behind him. Where, he couldn't place. Oh boy. Well. This is… less than ideal, he thought nervously. Ah guess ah better keep movin. Try ta find my way back, maybe. His steps were hesitant as he moved forward, eyes sliding over unfamiliar wood and stone. Recognizable landmarks would be great right about now. But. Well. He hadn’t exactly been in this side of town. If those were a bust, maybe he could follow sound? Someone was always trying to play some instrument in the marketplace. He cocked his head to the side, straining for any hint of music. He tensed as something else registered in his ears. A strange… puffing sound. Like someone was throwing something at the ground, or stirring up dust. His brows furrowed in confusion. As he strained for more, he caught a glimpse of something bright and gold flashing above the roof of a nearby building. His eyes glimmered softly as it faded away. “What’n th’ hell…?” he mumbled. … his worries about getting back to the marketplace didn’t seem so dire. I gotta find out what that is. Head cocked and gaze sharp, Theodore jogged toward the source of the strange flashes. The closer he got, the more he sped up. The sounds got louder, and he could just make out a voice or two. The gold flashes shimmered bright as diamonds in the sun, looking for all the world like someone was turning treasure into mist. Eventually he spotted a cloud of it receding down an alleyway. There!!! Eagerly pressing forward, he all but ran down the alleyway, skidding to a stop once it opened into a small dirt patch outside of town. His mouth dropped open, eyes widening at the sight. In the center of the patch, someone was busy weaving air into towers. Or, he assumed it was air- what else could the curious coin-colored clouds be??? As he watched, they jumped off the top of one, tucking and rolling several times before their hands hooked on a newly-formed branch of smoky gold. He silently registered a couple other town kids beside him. But they were far from his thoughts. All he could do was watch in complete awe as the stranger swooped and swung through the air, puffs of smoke and gilded air weaving a lovely dance before him.  Eventually, the stranger seemed to notice their audience. They smiled, winking at the little group. Theodore could only manage a tiny wave in return. He’d never- never- seen anything like this. The flips, yes- he’d been doing those since he was little- and the stranger was doing one hell of an impressive job with ‘em- but he’d not seen anything close to the strange gold sheen in the air. Not even in his wildest dreams. None of his storybooks had this sort of- sort of- whatever the stranger was doing. Yet he couldn’t help but feel he was staring down a legend. With a rather extravagant backflip, the stranger tossed a puff of gold at the air before them- and- disappeared?! The little group gasped. Theodore felt his shoulders tense anxiously. Where had they gone? Why was their gold fog fading? Had he just imagined the whole thing??? He glanced around helplessly at the few others around him. They all blinked, just as confused as he was. What happened? Before he could wonder too much longer, another puff of gold exploded in the air above them. Everyone gasped again as the stranger popped back into existence, flipping through the air. Dust kicked up as their boots landed firmly in the center of the dirt patch, mingling with the glimmering sheen of fading golden smoke. Everyone sat in awestruck silence for a moment. Then... The stranger grinned. And took a deep bow. Theodore was clapping before he knew what he was doing, a dopey grin taking up half his face. He faintly registered one of the group peeling off towards the alleyways. He didn’t pay it too much mind. He was much too focused on how the stranger was looking at him. “Well, seems someone enjoyed the performance, mh?” they grinned. Theodore glanced around- surely they were talking to someone else- but, no, their gaze was squarely on him. Everyone else wasn’t even moving. He nodded vigorously, eager smile still in place. “Y-yessir! Er- ma’am- er- pal?- It was real cool! I ain’t never seen anythin’ quite like it!” he stammered.. “Yer moves were amazin- and- what- what was that cloudy stuff?” He paused, wondering briefly if he wasn’t supposed to inquire such things. His face reddened as he continued. “A-ah mean. If y’all don’ mind me askin’...?” The stranger just chuckled, shaking their head. “It’s quite alright,” they hummed. “I don’t tend to pass through here often- I’m jus glad I caught some gazes while practicing. And… I don’t think you’da seen much of this anyway.” They held out a hand, Theodore gasping softly as golden smoke rose from their palm. “It’s magic, kid.” The second the words registered, Theodore froze. Eyes wide and jaw slack, he felt he couldn’t breathe. Magic? That was magic? His brows furrowed in utter confusion. His gaze bounced between the gold mist and the stranger’s face. Part of him whispered he should turn and go, but- surely- surely it couldn’t be! Magic was a destructive force. Something horrid and corrupting and full of nothing but misery and laziness. You knew it when you saw it. You knew it to avoid it. And it was never, never anything good. At least, that’s what his parents said anytime someone mentioned it. That’s all anyone in town ever said when someone mentioned magic. He’d not had reason to doubt until now. “... are… are y’all sure that’s magic…?” he echoed softly. The stranger seemed to pick up on his unease. Letting the gold fade away, they nodded. “Yeah, that’s magic, kid,” they replied. “Swear on my heart.” “But- but how’d ya-” Theodore gestured for a minute, trying to put to words his clashing thoughts- “how’re y’all usin it without gettin hurt or somethin? That all looked like- like fun, not like trouble!” The stranger tilted their head a bit, a flash of something- pity?- crossing their face. Theodore fidgeted a bit, and it was gone. “Magic’s not bad, kiddo, as long as you’re keepin an eye on it,” the stranger said gently. They gestured to the air around them as they continued. “You can do a whole lot with it- every little bit of gold you saw was a spell! ‘S not all bad, ‘s long as ya know what you’re doin. Magic helps ya do anythin ya put your mind to. Like ya saw, you can mash it together with all kinds’a fancy moves, too. Y’all can do amazin’ things if you keep tabs on your spellwork ‘n watch yourself.” “... really?” Theodore breathed. “Really,” the stranger nodded. “Tha’s… I… hey, wait a sec-” Theodore said hurriedly, “who’s the “you” y’all’re talkin’ ‘bout? Y’all n who else? ‘S there other magic castin’ folks around? Where- where’re they hidin? Who are they?” The stranger chuckled at his eagerness, holding up a hand. Theodore fell silent reflexively, standing up a little straighter. They didn’t look annoyed, but. Well. Habit wouldn’t be ignored. They looked down at him, spreading their hands out at their sides. “Well… yeah, if you know where to look,” they smiled knowingly. “Just… for safety, I won’t list names. But, if you want to know…” They leaned in conspiratorially, eyes shining. “It’s me and every other human around.” Theodore stared at them, blinking owlishly. His words took a minute to find their sound, drifting around his head before he could get bits of them out. “Ev… every… person...? Y… w-whaddaya… how…?” he said softly. “Anyone can use magic, kid,” the stranger said gently. “Even you. You just gotta dig for it.” Theodore just… fell silent. This felt like something he shouldn’t know, but. Well. Here he was. And he’d never been one to turn down something big. Slowly, his gaze drifted down to his hands. Anyone can use magic? He knew he wanted to do something big when he grew up. He couldn’t run the farm- not with Dean ‘n Carrie filling those roles. He loved his little siblings, but they… his parents had plans for them. He was just. Stuck in the middle. He knew he had to do something to stand out. And… well… something about the sight of the stranger swinging around, the clapping and cheering, the golden haze and look of pure bliss on their face, the pure legendary aura that hung off of them, and the amazement they got from the crowd... He wanted that. And he wanted it desperately. Unfortunately, he didn’t have long to think on it before an angry voice rang out. “What ‘n the hell’s goin’ on here?!” Theodore froze in place at the voice, body going stiff and straight as a board. Uh oh. He cast a nervous glance behind him. Standing at the mouth of the alleyway was a small group of adults. The kid he’d seen sprint off a few minutes ago was among them, hiding behind the leader. And- with his heart sinking- he realized that wasn’t the only person he recognized. His mother was there. Glaring at him. In fact, none of the group looked happy. At all. “Kids, git over here, will ya?” the leader said calmly. Though his eyes said he was anything but. The other couple kids around trotted obediently into the group. They disappeared behind a wall of adults, a ring of angry cattle protecting their calves. But Theodore couldn’t get himself to move. He hadn’t quite realized how close he’d strayed to the stranger. And now, with all these eyes on him, he couldn’t move. He just looked back at the leader, terror bubbling across his face. The leader eyed him for a moment. With a click of his tongue, his mother darted out from the group. Theodore cowered as she neared, but that didn’t stop her. Her hand shackled quickly around his wrist, yanking him roughly- frantically- desperately- panicky- back with her to the group. He felt himself pushed into the center quickly, pressed up against other wide eyed kids. A second later, grumbling and muttering broke out. Voices were muffled, stretching over him and his fellows like a cup over a fly. What was going on?! He wiggled around a bit, trying to get a good look. But the wall of adults- his mother included- wouldn’t budge an inch. He needed to see what was happening. But he had to work with what was on hand. He took a gamble and crouched down, peering out from their legs. The sound didn’t travel well, but he could see the stranger’s face. And lip reading did the legwork there. “‘S there a problem, sir?” the stranger asked, chipper tone wavering. “Yeah. I’m lookin at it,” the leader growled. He spat on the ground, disdain all over his face. “Y’all know we don’ like yer kind around here.” “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you m-” the stranger tried, but they didn’t get far. The leader took a menacing step towards them. Theodore could feel the anger radiating off of him. Go, he pleaded mentally, you’re not safe here. “Git out of our town,” the leader hissed. “Or we’ll make ya.” “There’s no need t-” “Ah said git.” With another click of his tongue, the group suddenly lurched forward. Panicked legs crashed against Theodore’s back, sending him tumbling facefirst into the dirt. Oh shit. Theodore curled up frantically, arms covering his head. The group surged forward again, boots and bare feet barely missing his body. When he looked up again, the group was advancing steadily towards the stranger. The sight slammed his heart into his ribs. Oh Revaew- what was going on?! The stranger just stepped back cautiously, hands out and trying to placate them. Theodore couldn’t see what they were saying, but he knew they were in trouble- they were in trouble- they had to get out- they- oh Revaew- his breath was catching in his throat. I can’t let them do this.  Scrambling to his feet, the boy ran blindly past the menacing mob. Nobody noticed him until it was too late. He waved his hands at the stranger desperately. “YOU HAVE TO GO!” he cried. And that was all he had time to get out. The mob- that’s what it was- oh revaew- exploded into chaos. He felt hands grabbing and shoving him back behind the adults, many of them surging forward toward the stranger. He tried desperately to slip past- to yell- to hope frantically that the stranger was ok. But they’d been warned. With a flash bang of smoky magic, they were off. The sound and sight was enough to freeze the crowd for a moment. Enough for Theodore to wiggle free and watch. Though the mob bellowed and crashed, the stranger swung out of reach, golden clouds lifting them out of the way. Their gold branching towers ferried them quickly- gracefully- away from danger. With a tuck, roll, and dive, they landed perfectly on their boots a hundred feet away. Theodore felt their eyes linger on him for just a moment. His own were wide, full of naught but wonder. “REMEMBER, KID!” they shouted, turning tail to run, “A TRUE SHOWMAN ALWAYS LANDS ON THEIR FEET!” And hits the ground running, theodore thought softly. 

The boy didn’t really process what happened after that. He felt the mob quiet back into a crowd. He felt their anger melt into crushing concern. He felt the words of many swirling around him, none of them sticking with the phrase that echoed in his mind. Eventually, he felt his mother dragging him back to the family stall, berating and fussing over him the whole time. It was only when corn gently rustled beneath him, and his siblings gently touched him, that he finally broke from his stupor. He shook his head, holding up a hand. He did what he could to soothe his siblings worries. It wasn’t too hard- spin a tale, flash a confident grin, and make some joke about having to try again on the candyman- they calmed down quick enough. He was left to sit in the back of the cart. As the sounds of the ride relaxed into something resembling the standard, theodore stared thoughtfully out over the path. A true showman always lands on their feet. … And hits the ground running. But… Magic isn’t dangerous, not if you keep an eye on it. How had nobody told him this before? Or that… that… Anyone can do magic. … Even him. The boy’s thoughts trundled steadily along like the wagon, though they were many miles away. The day left much to think about.

#afw #a familiar world #afw chapter #my story #arty writes #journal sherman drapht #wahoo fun times with da boi :VVV #anyway slkdjf #enjoy this #i had fun workin with it n figurin out my boy ^^

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

LOSE TO WIN.

Che “Taza” Romero x reader

Anon asked: Hey! Could you do a Taza x Reader, where he is kind of quiet around the reader after what happened to Riz and the reader somehow understand what he have done and she confronts him, but she says that she still loves him anyway?

Word Count: 2.4k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author Comments: As I explained, this is kinda painful to me. I've never been so in love with a TV show, nor with a character as I am with Riz. This imagine is somewhat random, writed in first person as I think I would have lived it, more or less. So, take it as it's a piece of me and enjoy. Gif credit: @angels-reyes.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​ @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcro-jnt @jade770 @losolvidad0s @arved ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

I’ve held his hand, since the doctors said that we could see him. I was constantly sitting by the left side of the bed, with my fingers tangled with his. And every time it came somewhat cold, I grabbed it with mine to raised it so I could give it some warmth with my breath. The surgery was good, better than expected, but I was unable to leave him for a single second. I didn’t even notice who more was in the room with me, I was so focused and so obsessed controlling his breathing, that the time was something relative. And I’ll blame myself all my life for leaving him alone the moment he stopped fighting. Yes, Taza was with him, but I wasn’t. He stopped fighting when I was no longer there. It was just a minute. A hallway. I was falling asleep and I needed a coffee. When I came back, his soul was already gone and so did a piece of my heart. Che held me before I could even fall, after the doctors said his lungs had failed. Taza has always been my anchor, since I met him when I was almost twelve years old, but he couldn't even keep me from sinking.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

I was sitting outside of the clubhouse in a picnic table. There was no noise more than some crickets grilling. I was wearing his kutte without believing that he wasn’t gonna appear with his bike, complaining about whatever shit he saw on the road, before hugging me as he used to do. Raising my eyes to the sky and having a sip of my beer, I couldn't help but thinking about the first time I saw him. It was nine years ago at Stockton, when my uncle decided to open a new Mayans’ subsidiary. The southern Cali at Santo Padre. Marcus made somewhat like a party to celebrate with the Sons of Anarchy and my father brought me there. I was sitting alone, just like I’m right now. I was almost twenty years old and I didn’t know half the shit I know now. Yes, I wasn’t stupid. The motorbikes, the guns, the travels. I didn’t need to be a genius to know what my family used to do. A mexican with short and black hair sat next to me, offering me a tequila shot to greet with him.

“Por la familia”. (For the family). He said before drinking his, so I did. “I’m Michael, but everyone calls me ‘Riz’”.

“Well, everyone calls me ‘shit, kid, you did it again?’

He laughed with some kind of naturality and purity that I’ve never heard it before. It was a warm and nearby laugh, as my father’s. I don’t even know how I can explain it. It something that you really need to hear to feel it as I did. He was my first friend, because he wanted, and not because he was scared of who my family was. Through the years he became my family too. We spent a lot of time together, doing everything or doing nothing. Not even our silences were uncomfortable, we enjoyed each other's company, without more. It’s been just one day and I kept looking my phone, waiting for a call or a text that woke me up of this nightmare. But the only thing that pushed me back to reality it was the crew’s motorbikes roaring full of rage. I practically jumped off of the table, throwing away the beer before my father could lead the march. The main door was closed and they were waiting for me to open it, standing there with my arms crossed on the chest.

“I’m going”. I was determined like never in my life and no one would change my mind.

“Open the door and stay here”. My father just said.

“I’m going”. In case he didn’t hear me, I repeated it.

“It’s a risk I’m not gonna take. Don’t argue with m—”.

“He lost a battle ‘cause ‘Los Vatos. And I’m gonna defend his honor at war!” I interrupted him, yelling at my father as I never did it before. I had too much contained inside me, squeezing my heart till make me cry blood tears. “You can’t… put me aside, dad. Not tonight”.

My father shook his head sighing and rubbing his face, after some seconds seeming thoughtful, before finally nodding. I looked at the rest of the faces, they agreed too. Riz was my family, and he will always be even if his body isn’t present. So I ran to his motorbike, taking off the keys from the chest’ pocket. I had ridden it before but that time, when I turned on the engine, was pretty different.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

It’s been a month since the funeral and sometimes looks like nothing had changed. Nothing but the way Taza used to treat me. He became somewhat cold, he turned away from me. Maybe I was so focused in my pain, that I didn't see his. I tried hard to talk with him, wanting to know how he felt, but he never did it back. No answer at any question I made. And I was falling into a black hole, into a loop. I wasn't capable of getting up from bed some mornings and I needed him as never before. I really needed him. Taza was always by my side, at the bad and at the good. But now, he was like a ghost. Running away from me. It was like if another piece of my heart was breaking. Till I had the enough strength to stop it, when my father told me that Che was leaving the Mayans. I lost Riz. So losing him too wasn't an option.

I drove the road to the ranch by heart, in the cold darkness of the night. I was decided to bring him back by my side and I didn't care what it might cost me. I was, and I am, surrounded by people that loved me without any doubt but no one like him. He taught me many of the things I know today. He covered me every time I fucked up things. He picked me up every night I called him drunk, being afraid of going home so my father could see me in that kind of condition. He cleaned my tears and cheered my smiles. I took care of his wounds, of his doubts, of his fears. I took care of his house and his car. I took care of him whenever he was sick or lost. We were made for each other. Again, losing him it wasn't an option.

Turning off my motorbike and taking off the helmet to leave it over the leather seat, I walked straight to the front red door. The light outside, in the porch, was on so he was at home. I had a copy of the keys, but I didn't want to burden him. After knocking the door with the knuckles, I waited there for some long minutes. It was cold outside and I started to freeze, when I called again using the door-bell. I could hear his steps coming, stopping for some seconds on the other side. 

“Please, don' leave me”. I begged, knowing that he didn't want to let me in for some reason I couldn't understand, containing the tears that were claiming to fall down. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry for closing myself, for not talking to you at the beginning. I know I don' have any excuse, that I can't simply say ‘I did it with everyone’, 'cause you know you're not in that bag. You've been always the exception that proves the rule. And I love you, Che... You know that I do”.

It was the first time I said that. To him. I didn't say that to anyone that it wasn't my father, nor my uncle. But I really felt that shit. The same one that was taking away what little life I had left. When the door got opened, my heart jumped raising my eyes to the reddened ones. He look as bad as I was. I couldn't help but hugging him, surrounding him with my arms, while he was pushing me inside the house so he could close the door. I've never been a lot of affective, always respecting my own personal space. But with him was different. His arms around me were like a indestructible fortress, protecting me from the world and its evil. He was the air I needed to breathe whenever I felt I was drowning myself. And sometimes, this fact was a problem.

“This is my fault”. He whispered with his voice breaking somewhat more as he uttered each word.

“No, it wasn't, Che. It wasn't. They did wrong every thing they considered it was well done”. I tried to comfort him. I didn't know why he was blaming himself. Riz stopped his shots. Is what I have would done. And that wasn't his fault either.

“You don' understand… Riz is dead because of me”.

“No, it's not!” I was nervous, out of me, pulling him away so I could be able to support his cheeks between my hands. Seeing him cry like a heartbroken child was more painful that I could imagine, oppressing my chest as I was thinking that I never asked how he was.

“His lungs… His lungs didn't failed because of the shots, but because of me”.

My hands fell down, as my eyes got opened more than normally. Twisting my head like a dog does when he's confused, I walked a few steps back. Taza rested his body against the closest wall, crawling down till finding the floor with his knees curled to his chest. He was crying desperately, unable to look at me. Then I started to think about that night. No. It wasn't a coincidence that Riz and him were alone when he left us. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that that poisoned words were true. Everything was crumbling around me, breaking with the same facility as a wet paper does between my fingers. The tears was running through my cheeks with my gaze on nowhere.

“Los Vatos… That trash should disappear, after all the damage he made to… innocent people that only wanted to have a better life”. He sob cleaning his eyes with a forearm. “I knew that your father wouldn't do anythin', and I knew that Riz was suffering… The surgery went well, but… doctors said that maybe he never could get out of the coma… He was my friend too. My br—brother. What could I do?”

Even if I wanted to punch him till death, I couldn't help but see the sense of his words. I was feeling his pain, his grief, his misery. I was so stubborn trying to save Riz, that I forgot him. He was carrying it over his shoulders all this time. And, no. He hadn't any excuse. He killed Michael. He never gave the benefit of the doubt. And it was dolorous when I found myself being unable to hate him.

“How you feel is my fault... Because of me. Because I didn't think in Riz, neither in you. I couldn' look you in… the face. So I thought it could be easy pull you away. Leave Santo Padre and come back to Arizona. But I can't… Shit… I can't”. He turned towards me, with his head supported against the wall. “Tell me you love me again… please”.

The anxiety was consuming me like a thick liquid clotting my blood, flooding my throat, my lungs, my stomach. It was like I was dying slowly, because I still loved him. Knowing that he killed my best friend, I still loved him. Unconditionally. I walked next to him, even if my brain was not sending any command to my legs, nor my body in general. I knelt down. In front of him. And I kissed him. Feeling like Judas, betraying Riz, I kissed him. Taza wasn't expecting it, neither did I. It was confusing. Every inch of my skin bristling as his tears met mine on our dry lips. When he gave me some space between his legs, surrounding me with his arms, it was like I forgot how to kiss, how to breath, how to live. Again without being conscious, my hands went to his nape. I just wanted to feel him close to me, almost lying on him, falling apart because of his fault.

“Tell me you love me again”. He begged me hopeless with his hands on my neck, keeping my gaze with the same darkness in them.

Life isn't fair. When you're part of something like Mayans, yes, everything at the end is about family, but sometimes there are collateral damage that you, nor anyone can't avoid. And that was Riz became. Sometimes you have to lose to win. A part of myself, to end human trafficking. And even if I wanted to hate him with all my efforts, I couldn't. And that made me hate myself so much. But I was seeing why he did it. It was a payback that, sooner or later, had to happen. 

“I do”. I just said. “I love you, Che”.

His cry got louder with his forehead on mine when he heard me. I knew that he was suffering more than anyone around us and I had to save him, of one way or another, so that Riz wouldn't have died in vain.

“But you can't go”. I sat down between his legs, holding him as he was doing with his face sinked in my neck and one of my hands on his head. My fingers got tangled in his hair, pushing him somewhat closer. The agony was oppressing us, knowing that we should live with that secret anchored in our hearts. But, what else we could do? Keep fighting for a cause. “Stay with me. We have so much road to ride. Don' let Michael die for anything”.

“I'm so sorry”. He said with all the sincerity I could felt in him. 

“I know. But we're together, you hear me?”

#mayans mc #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #che taza romero x reader #taza romero x reader #taza romero #taza romero imagine #michael riz ariza x reader #riz ariza #michael riz ariza #riz ariza x reader

[wibixthecowboy]

Play the Song: Part 1: Meet the Flash

Task Force 141 needs a new sniper and despite their complaints, they're assigned Flash, a joke-making, ABBA-listening, 20-year-old sharpshooter with better aim than the whole team combined. In other words, Ghost is practically handed the love of his life but he needs time to adjust because she's a firecracker.

Warnings/Tags: Age gap (20/30-32), gore, descriptions of injury/blood/wounds, swearing, weapons, literally only fluff and banter, minimal angst, soft baby girl Ghost, asshole Soap, lighthearted, I can fix him he just needs a hug, warning for an excessively bad taste in music, slow burn, protective ghost, family dynamic, big brother soap has an attitude problem, father figure Price, Gaz is just there because he’s on the wiki I have no idea who he is, eventual smut, praise, thigh riding, unprotected (wrap it up people), idk I’m sure it will get dirtier as I go, shifting POV

Side note: All of these characters are fictional! Please don’t be weird about their real life actors, leave them out of this and be respectful! 

A/N: I have been resurrected from the tumblr tombs once again to write about a man that I’ll never have. I have no idea how cod or war in general works and I don’t care enough to learn so enjoy my bullshitting.

Words: 1.5k

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4  Part 5

  ★ Ghost

  It was a hot day in Las Almas, with the temperature pushing almost 100 degrees, Ghost’s single shirt has stuck to the sheen of sweat on his chest beneath the annoyingly thick Kevlar bodyguard and left him second-guessing his faceless persona in desperation to rip the damp mask off. 

   Their sniper was down, and much to Ghost’s displeasure they were on their way to pick up a new team member fresh off the academy grill. The manila folder in his hands was thin, but the few sheets inside were enough to sell her to the coordinator, he had to admit that she seemed impressive but the minimal amount of field experience would have immediately disqualified her as a candidate if it was his choice.  

“Sniper specialist” 

“98% accuracy rate”

“trained in 6 fighting styles” 

“Distinguished Graduate Award and Clements Award winner” 

“Works under special requirements” 

He squints down at the last line, fighting the bouncing of the truck over the rough terrain to read clearly, special requirements. Ghost huffs a frustrated breath at the lack of further explanation and hands the papers to Soap next to him. 

“Do you know what the special requirements are?” He grumbles, eyeing Soap’s hunched shoulders. They had just gotten the call to clear a residency that would hopefully contain the information on the next run and they would be heading straight in with a newbie. No one was happy. 

Soap shuffles through the papers, barely taking the time to skim the words before he’s shoving them behind him to Price in the back seat. 

“Why the fuck would I know? Do I look like the coordinator?” Ghost raises an eyebrow at the attitude but decides to let it go. He knows from experience that poking would get him nowhere. 

Ghost turns his head to Price in hopes of a clearer answer but he just shakes his head and hands the papers back. 

“You’re missing a few pages there Ghost.” Price says closing his eyes and resting against the seat. Soap, suddenly done with the conversation rolls his eyes and turns to watch the sparse rolling landscape out the window.

“This is the entire file, I opened it on the way here.” Ghost retorts, looking down to flip through the paperwork. It takes him a moment to see it but when he does his hands freeze. Signaled by the sudden stop, Price sits up and looks over the seat to read the page in Ghost’s hand. 

“Oh shit”  

 Somehow both of them had missed the single line at the bottom of the first page,

“Missions completed: 0″

 Realization slowly dawns on him, this recruit has absolutely no field experience. When the coordinator said fresh off the grill he meant it. Ghost turns to relay his newfound information to Soap but snaps his mouth shut at the sight of his pissy expression. 

This new realization leaves a pit in Ghost’s stomach. He hadn’t signed up for training, the recruit couldn't be over 25, a vast difference compared to their already existing team. He’d asked for their best sniper, not a child.   

_____

   The van’s wheels grind to a halt in front of the small outpost building and Soap slams the door open, eager to get the process over with. As if on cue the doors open wide to reveal the coordinator and their new recruit. Ghost balks, through the shimmering heat he can make out two shapes, one being the coordinator and the other he assumes is the recruit. The top of her helmet is level with his shoulder pad and with the rifle being half her height, she looks more like a child than a soldier.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. Jesus Fuckin’ Christ that's a child!” Although he wasn’t quick enough to stop him, Price still gives Soap a hard shove to the shoulder. Soap turns around in his seat ready to hit back but Ghost grabs his fist and levels him with a glare. Even with Soap’s strong accent muddying his tone, the words ring clear past the approaching pair. The recruit stands tall though, power-walking through the sand and stopping in front of the open sliding door. 

If it wasn’t for the giant rifle and other military paraphernalia strapped to her chest Ghost would assume he was back at a countryside bar in Kentucky. Her golden blonde hair has been weaved into a thick braid hanging halfway down her chest, framing her freckled face in soft layers and shining in the mid-day sun. The recruit’s blue eyes shone with a wild flare that left Ghost shifting in his seat. Upon noticing a slight gap between her front teeth he feels the corner of his mouth twitch upwards, only to frown at the lack of southern drawl when she finally speaks. 

“I go by Flash, and for your information, my 20th birthday was this summer and I’m probably a better shot than all of you. Now that’s out of the way, are we ready to go gentleman?” 

The entire team freezes in shock at the new and unexpected information. Ghost chokes on his next breath of air and his dignity is saved by Soap’s sudden yell.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN 20?” Flash’s façade falters for just a second at the brute yell before Price is shoving past Soap to get out of the car and stand in front of the pair, blocking them from view. 

Price and the coordinator exchange a few short words before Ghost clears his throat and interrupts.

“No.”

____________________________________

★ Flash

   Flash had been warned about joining Task Force 141, as soon as the news was announced whispers floated around the academy, leaving Flash the center of attention. She was stopped nearly every day to be questioned about the lone wolf Lieutenant Ghost and despite her constant pressing that she had not met any of them, let alone the one known most for his evasiveness, the pestering continued. Flash was tired of being a show pony. She had an itch that needed to be scratched and it wouldn’t happen through obstacle courses and teaching. She needed to be out on the field and she was prepared to do whatever she needed to do to prove herself. What she hadn't prepared for was outright denial.

Everyone’s attention shifts to Lieutenant Ghost, and the man in front of her winces before speaking.

“Ghost it is not up for debate she’s already signed on.”

“Well, fuckin’ take her off then Price!” The loud Scottish man yells again. 

 After an awkward pause, the coordinator shifts on his feet and directs his attention to Captain Price, 

“Captain this decision is final, paperwork has already been filed, and the academy has handed her off.” He clears his throat before speaking “And if I may, Flash has the highest scores of all time on nearly every leaderboard back at the academy, she’s no beginner.” Flash feels a swell of pride and makes a note to thank him later. 

“It’s not happening” Lieutenant Ghost’s voice is cold and has Flash’s newfound pride deflating. So much for making new friends. 

Captain Price sighs before turning to speak directly to Lieutenant Ghost,

“Ghost it seems like we don’t have much choice. Soap move to the back, Flash can take your spot.” He heaves a sigh and Flash can see him bracing himself for a backlash but its not from who she expected. 

“This is utter dog shit, I’m not working with a child!” Soap drops his head into his hands before heaving himself out of his seat and into the back. Flash’s smirk falters when she realizes who she’ll be placed next to but she takes a breath and steps into the van, ignoring Captain Price’s outstretched hand. 

Captain Price shoves himself next to Soap and the coordinator gives them one last salute before pulling the door shut.

   It’s a tight squeeze in the van, the third seat of the second row has been ripped out and replaced with a few precariously balanced boxes, leaving her pressed up against the side of the Lieutenant. Although the sweltering day had given her a rosy complexion the heat of his body made her face flush an even deeper shade of pink. 

 _____

They bump along the road for a bit before it dawns on Flash that she’s on the way to her first mission. She can’t help the grin that slowly makes its way across her face.

“What’s that shit eating grin for?” Soap grumbles from the back seat obviously still sore from being forced into the back. Flash cant help the giggles that force their way up when she spots him glaring at her through the rearview mirror.

“Nothing.” She replies with a simple shrug and drops her gaze down to her lap, still smiling. Ghost’s rigid posture doesn’t relax but when he looks down at her she can almost see a glint of humor in his blue eyes. She stares back, “What?”

“Nothing.” He mimics. 

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. 

#Ghost x reader #ghost x female oc #ghost is babygirl #simon riley #cod fic #simon ghost riley #family dynamic #Modern warfare 2 #ghost stories #mw2 #soap #i should have stayed in retirement #who else listens to abba while sniping #my english professor would have an aneurism #im only writing this because im mad it doesnt already exist #Ghost has a hard on for southern belles #possibly part 1

[victoria-daydreams]

Till Kingdom Come

Chapter One: My Story Is Much Too Sad to be Told

AN: I’m fairly shocked at the reception this story got, I didn’t expect to gain immediate attraction because I posted it at like 3am lol. Nonetheless, I am grateful to all the people who read this story. Once again, this chapter is dark as well. I promise this whole story is not going to be doom and gloom, but it feels inappropriate to even try to glaze over the cruel treatment of slaves in America and to be honest, this chapter is probably just a glimpse of what real life slaves were put through.

Word Count: 3.1k

Trigger Warnings: slavery, violence, physical/mental abuse, racism, racial slurs

Chapter Two: Life Being What It Is

That was seventeen years ago.

Sabine's life had changed for the "better", at least that's what Mistress Genevieve would try to convince her as such. Sabine certainly didn't see it that way, she was still a slave, after all. Not to mention, that the Martin family has for all intents and purposes, mentally and physically scarred her for the rest of her life.

Sabine was fucking miserable on the Martin Plantation.

From the moment Sabine arrived on the plantation as a child, she became something of a pet project to Genevieve. She taught Sabine arithmancy, how to read, write, and to speak proper English and French. This was not out of kindness though, no, this was a source of derision. Whenever Genevieve would host any type of social gathering, Sabine would find herself being paraded around by her Mistress to her guests.

She despised the gatherings with every fiber of her being, she was subjected to the most degrading comments by the party goers.

"Dear me, I didn't know negros had the capacity to learn how to read,"

"Genevieve, you must have the patience of a saint to be willing to teach a member of an illiterate species,"

"You taught the monkey to read and write? What's next Genevieve, music?"

This is what Sabine had been put through for as long as she could remember. Every time she learned and mastered something new, Sabine knew what was to come. She hated the fact that accomplishing something a white person could do was met with oohs and awws in the most mocking fashion from Genevieve's friends. Sabine remembered one night that word had spread at a party that she was fluent in French and for the rest of night she was bombarded with requests of ‘saying something in French’. She felt like an animal in a zoo and she knew that's how most people viewed her in the first place.

"Teach anymore parlor tricks to your pet Genevieve?"

Sabine would internally scowl every time she witnessed Genevieve be lavished in praise by her friends for her work. Isn't it sweet? The benevolent mistress bestowing an education to a lowly slave like herself. The Southern Belle, extending her graciousness to one of her lowliest effects.

Oh, but Sabine would find little ways to carry out her revenge especially as she grew older and was given tasks that held more responsibility. Her favorite way, "accidentally" pulling her mistress' corset too tight or "accidentally" stabbing her in the scalp with hairpins. Her yelps of pain would bring a ghost of smile to Sabine's lips which would instantly vanish if Genevieve turned around to scold her for her carelessness. And of course Sabine would offer a quick apology, telling her mistress that she didn't mean to and will be more mindful in the future. But the second Genevieve left the room, Sabine would let out a snicker only to be popped in the back of the head by Alice, the woman, who's in charge in keeping the rest of the slaves in order.

The blow was not out of malice, further from that really, it was out of love and concern. Alice had been like a mother figure to Sabine since the day she arrived on the plantation.

"One day the Mistress is not going to put up with your 'mistakes'," Alice warned, worry was evident in her eyes.

It wasn't until Sabine would turn sixteen the following year that Alice's warning would finally sink in for her. The most ironic thing about it was the fact that it didn't happen because of one of Sabine's mischievous acts, it happened because of the wandering eyes of Genevieve's husband, Aaron Martin. What's even more ironic, is that Master Martin didn't even want Sabine in the house at first, he wanted to make her a field hand. Genevieve convinced him otherwise, saying that she would be malleable and make the perfect, obedient slave since she had no attachments on their plantation.

She was wrong.

The decision to keep Sabine as a house slave would be one that Genevieve would come to regret, but only out of wounded pride. Sabine, on the other hand, longed for freedom and was desperate to escape the growing tension between Genevieve and Master Martin. She doubted that they knew how many times she fantasized about running away from the plantation. It was more than once as each day passed.

She had good reason to as well, Sabine had noticed that the mistress had been short-tempered with her as of late. And that was never more evident on one fateful day, where everything in Sabine's life seemed to further spiral out of what little control she had.

Sabine wiped down the top of the fireplace on the far wall of the parlor room, humming to herself.

"What's that song?"

Sabine stumbled in surprise of hearing Master Martin's voice, his French accent only slightly there. Pushing away from the fireplace, she tightened her grip around the rag in her hands as she stood at attention. His thin lips were curled up into a smile, a smile that Sabine was sure he thought would put her at ease, it didn't. Matter of fact, the expression had the exact opposite effect, Sabine thought his smile looked like a wound opening. Everything about the forty-five year old man unnerved her, Master Martin had a complexion that teetered between being pale and matte, short, dark brown hair sat on top of his oblong head. His long face made his humped nose prominent, but the most terrifying feature on his face was those piercing gray orbs.

It was the eyes of a predator stalking its prey.

Bowing her head in apology, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you, Master," Sabine apologized, vowing not to hum again.

"You didn't disturb me. What is that song?"

It's something that her mother would sing to her when she was younger. Sabine couldn't remember the words to the song, but she knew how the tune went, it was the only piece of her mother that she had left of her.

Shaking her head, "I don't know," Sabine lied remorselessly.

Instead of letting her get back to her work, Master Martin just continued staring at Sabine, it made her flesh crawl. His eyes traveled from her face before letting them roam down to her neck and then onto her chest. This had become increasingly normal behavior for Master Martin, each week it seemed like he managed to find her alone and just study her figure. His eyes would always linger on her breasts, and that was what made Sabine most uncomfortable in his presence.

Master Martin leaned against the door frame, "You've been filling out your dress quite nicely as of late Cecile," he commented, now looking at slim waist and then her hips as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

Sabine had to swallow down the bile she felt that might escape her mouth.

"Cecile!" Genevieve's shrill voice called from down the hall. "Cecile! Where are you, you daft girl?!" she yelled, as she stopped right beside her husband. "Aaron, dear, what are you looking-" she began, but cut herself off when she followed her husband's leering gaze. Genevieve's expression hardened and she narrowed her eyes at Sabine, pressing her lips together into a thin line. She stormed over to Sabine and came to a stop in front of her.

"Mistress I-" Sabine started, but Genevieve's hand whipped out and struck her hard across the face. Sabine's head snapped to the side and she lowered her stare to the floor, her breath uneven as she rubbed her cheek.

It was the hardest slap she had ever received.

"You stupid girl! Why are you distracting the Master?" she demanded, glowering at Sabine. "Get out of here and get back to work!" she ordered, her rising temper reflected in her face.

"Yes Mistress," Sabine replied, quickly bowing her head as tears began to well up in her eyes.

"And didn't I tell you to cover that horrid hair of yours? The sight of it is revolting!"

Genevieve had never once demanded Sabine to cover her hair, not until that day. But from that day on, Sabine wore a headscarf religiously to cover her head. Sabine figured that Genevieve's thought process probably fell along the lines of, if Sabine's hair wasn't visible then she'd become less attractive. It was a flawed logic that did nothing of the sort, much to Genevieve's and Sabine's dismay. So, for Sabine, the physical and mental abuse she received from Genevieve increased on a scale that she never experienced before.

The days of Sabine just being a pet to show off to Genevieve's friends to poke fun at her, were long gone.

Genevieve now saw Sabine as competition for Master Martin's attention. Attention that Sabine never wanted in the first place, Genevieve could keep her disgusting husband all to herself for all she cared. But of course, Genevieve would never see it Sabine's way, no, somehow Sabine's at fault for Master Martin's lustful stares.

Things only seemed to get progressively worse for Sabine as the years passed and her body continued to mature. Not only did she draw the unwanted attention from her perverted master, but she unfortunately also captured the eldest son's attention, Marc. He was almost a spitting image of his father, but was by far, worse than him. He's actually touched her in inappropriate ways, too many times for Sabine to recall. At least Master Martin just stared at her, although Sabine was sure that one day he might begin touching her as well, her worst fear was that he would flat out rape her.

Lord knows, Marc had been working his way up to it.

Sabine noticed that he had become increasingly aggressive as of late. And that frightened her to no end. She remembered one time after a dinner party she had to serve in the parlor room where the male guests were playing cards. She had just finished serving a round of drinks to Marc's table and the way he decided to thank her was to roughly squeeze her ass with a disingenuous smile. This action made the men at the table roar with laughter, but all Sabine could feel was mortification.

She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry in the corner of the small shack that she called home.

Sabine wanted to believe that the abuse she was suffering could not get any worse, she thought wrong. For, not only was she terrorized by the Martin's, but Marc's arrogant, smug college friends who often visited the plantation, partook in her torment as well. They would whisper things in her ears that no upstanding, God-fearing gentlemen would ever say to a white woman.

And for having such a supposed repulsion and violent reaction to someone of her complexion, white men sure seem to fancy negro flesh. It was confusing, yet terrifying realization. How could you hate and treat someone with so much scorn, but at the same time want to sleep with them?

Sabine's worst experience with one of Marc's friends was that he managed to corner her and forceful stick his hand up her dress, grabbing her thigh, luckily his hand wasn't able to go any higher thanks to one Alain Martin.

The only kind-hearted Martin in the family.

Alain, the curly headed and bright blue-eyed boy who always had a boyish grin on his face. He actually treated Sabine and the other slaves on the plantation like actual human beings, showing them dignity and respect, something that was completely foreign to them. Sabine wondered how the cruelty that Alain's family gleefully inflicted on the slaves didn't corrupt him and make him turn out like them. Maybe it was because Alain had actually questioned his surroundings as a child and didn't simply just accept what his mother and father told him as fact. She could recall many times Alain saying, ‘that doesn't seem right’ as a child.

And as Alain grew older, he continued to challenge his parents on the practice of slavery, prompting several arguments and debates, especially when it was dinnertime. Sabine had been a witness to quite a few of the shouting matches that would erupt at the table between Alain and Master Martin, Alain would also go at it with his older brother. Marc claimed, 'that because of the negro skull size all they were capable of was menial work and that white people were justified for enslaving them. With no one to oversee the negroes, they would hurt themselves'. This claim only enraged Alain further and Sabine as well.

Sabine had more knowledge in her pinky, than Marc's thick skull.

She pitied Alain, he had become the black sheep of the family. He attended college in the North and his views against slavery had only become stronger. He was an unapologetic abolitionist, which of course was completely the opposite of what his family believed. There would be many times that Sabine found herself listening to Alain as he vented out his frustrations about his family. She didn't mind, because that's what friends do, you let them vent.

However, it was not always like this, the bond they shared now as young adults would seem unimaginable to Sabine when she was younger.

Sabine and Alain had spent a lot of time together as children, but not because she wanted to, at first. The only reason she and Alain were in close proximity all the time, was the fact that she was tasked with fanning him while he had lessons with his tutor. Sabine resented him, they were only two years apart and yet here she was fanning him like he was some type of king. She was cold towards him (as respectfully as possible) and it went on like that for a couple of months, until Alain decided to speak to her when his tutor went inside the house.

"Pssst, Cecile, do you know how to say this word?" he asked, pointing to a word in his book.

Internally, Sabine arched a brow, she didn't know if he was asking out of genuine curiosity or to mock her.

"No sir," she answered, her grip tightening on the fan at the fact that she had to address a fellow child as 'sir'.

"You didn't even look," he argued softly, looking up at her. "Come on, I know you're smart, probably smarter than me," he added, moving the book closer to her eyes.

"Don't let the master and mistress hear that," Sabine remarked mindlessly, before freezing at what she let slip from her mouth.

Sabine expected to hear Alain run from his seat and tell his parents what she said, instead she heard giggles.

"You're funny Cecile," he commented, shaking his head.

A breath of relief left Sabine and she craned her neck, "What's the word, sir?" she asked, her eyes scanning the ink on the page.

"This one," he replied, pointing to the third word on the page.

Sabine nodded her head, "It's glaciers, sir," she said, before looking at Alain.

"Thank you Cecile," he smiled, bringing the book closer to him again.

"Your welcome sir,"

"Alain," he corrected.

"What, sir?" Sabine asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Call me Alain,"

And from that day forward, to some extent a friendship was born. The breaks in between Alain's lessons where his tutor wasn't present, were the only time that the two of them could really speak to each other. Alain did most of the talking, he told Sabine things he probably wasn't supposed to and if his mother ever found what Alain told her, Sabine was sure that Genevieve would just about faint. Sabine on the other hand, was much more reserved on what she was willing to tell Alain. She never told him anything personal, just mainly what she did each day. Sabine was afraid of telling Alain something that could somehow finds its way back to Genevieve. But, as years passed and they slowly matured, Sabine finally felt that she trusted Alain enough to tell him her real name when they were fourteen.

She hadn't heard the name Cecile since.

It was a friendship of secrecy, but that didn't mean Alain wouldn't try to protect Sabine as best he could. Alain could do it overtly, like he done with Marc's friend by yanking him away from Sabine and punching him square in the jaw. Other times, he would opt for more subtle ways that were just as effective. Remember the assault that Sabine suffered in the parlor room? Well, Alain was a witness to his older brother's molesting of her.

Alain strode over to Marc, appearing as though he was going to tell him off, which for Sabine's sake, she hoped he wasn't. It would only lead to further humiliation of her in some sort of fashion and probably Alain as well. Alain approached the table where his brother was playing cards when he suddenly tripped over his feet. Sabine watched in almost awe as the champagne flew in the air before raining down all over Marc, soaking his hair and a part of his evening jacket and dress shirt.

Marc's face turned beet red.

Sabine had to force herself to keep a neutral face, for a grin was threatening to form on her lips followed by uncontrollable laughter.

"You clumsy idiot!" Marc exclaimed, venom laced in his insult.

Alain didn't seem affected by the remark, "I'm so sorry brother," he apologized, without the faintest hint of sincerity in his eyes. "I'll go get some towels for you," he offered, before turning to look at Sabine. "Will you escort me? I would hate for my clumsiness to resort in another mess," he explained, and Sabine nodded.

"Of course sir," she stated, and led Alain out the parlor room.

Once they were in the hallway and out of view from everyone, Alain grabbed Sabine's wrist and pulled her along to the bustling sounds of the kitchen. Entering the room, Alain let go of her wrist and the two of them stared at each other before bursting out in laughter. Sabine felt tears forming in her eyes and used the back of her finger to wipe it away.

"You're going to get an earful from your mother Alain," Sabine warned, with a breathless laugh.

"I don't give a damn," Alain declared, a proud grin on his lips. "Marc deserved it," he added, nodding his head.

Sabine leaned back against the counter, "You didn't have to do that for me," she said, looking over to her friend.

"No," Alain disagreed, vigorously shaking his head. "I had to, Sabine," he corrected, his expression turning serious. "Marc assaulted you. He humiliated you," he continued, his hands bawling up into fists. "Humiliation in return, it was the least I could do," Alain explained, and Sabine ran her hand up and down his arm soothingly. "I know it won't erase what was done to you Sabine, but I had to do something," he finished, his gaze soft as he looked at her.

"It is a small victory I shall revel in for a long time," Sabine said, placing her hand on top of his shoulder. "Thank you, Alain,"

Chapter Three: Steal Away

#the old guard #the old guard fanfiction #the old guard fanfic #the old guard fic #the old guard oc #black fanfiction #black!oc #black oc #black original character #black female oc #booker #booker x oc #sebastien le livre #sebastien le livre x oc #andromache the scythian #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #joe #nicky #andy #noriko #quynh #the old guard imagine #booker x reader #black!reader

[badmoonrising]

I posted 159 times in 2021

31 posts created (19%)

128 posts reblogged (81%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 4.1 posts.

I added 149 tags in 2021

#tlou - 21 posts

#the last of us - 21 posts

#ellie williams - 20 posts

#tlou ellie - 18 posts

#ellie williams x reader - 17 posts

#fanfic - 15 posts

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#tlou joel - 10 posts

#ao3fic - 7 posts

#joel miller x oc - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 22 characters

#she’s a lesbian harold

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

im so in love with Dina i want to write a fic about her but like… i feel like that’s weird bc most of her fics are with Ellie 😭 im thinking about like a fic set years after her and Ellie split (kind of like LLG) and her with a female oc…. much to think about

18 notes • Posted 2021-07-31 14:45:16 GMT

#4

hey guys! im almost done with the ellie suit smut! be on the lookout🤰

26 notes • Posted 2021-07-05 01:41:34 GMT

#3

AFTERGLOW (Ellie Williams x female oc)

AKA, the Ellie suit smut I promised you guys! For this smut, I used one of my OC’s, Lux, from my Ellie fic “Love Like Ghosts.” I hope you all enjoy!

WARNINGS: heavy smut, fluff, drinking, mild anxiety, lesbian shenanigans (6K word count)

“None of this shit fits,” Lux calls to her roommate.

She hears the thundering, gleeful footfalls of her roommate, May. In the mirror, Lux can see her friend in the doorway of the bedroom, squealing excitedly. She scoffs. “May, I’m serious.” May just shakes her head.

“You look wonderful!” She cheers.

Lux would not describe a leather catsuit she purchased off of a questionable website as “wonderful.”

“Your makeup looks good too,” May continues, fully entering the room, rushing over to Lux to inspect her face. She put on fake lashes and eyeliner. She finds herself wanting to fidget with the eyelashes but restrains herself.

May is dressed as Glinda the Good Witch. Her puffy, pink, sparkly dress swallows her. A tiara she bought at the clearance section of Claire’s keeps getting tangled in her luscious blonde hair, but she looks impossibly happy.

Lux sighs. “This leather is the worst,” she whines, rubbing at her arm, which is itchy and trapped beneath the suit. “It looks sexy!” May argues, giggling. Lux glances at her reflection. The leather catsuit zips up to her chest, like that one Black Widow wears in the Marvel movies. She wears knee high black boots and a headband with cat ears in her hair.

She feels insecure in her costume. A fucking cat, like that’s so original. Her brain was filled with other things, exams and financial troubles and a suffocating type of stress she hates. So she threw together… whatever the hell this is.

“Ok, are we ready to go?” May asks. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The women collect their keys and phones, then leave the dingy apartment. Their heels click against the suspiciously sticky floors and down the steep concrete stairs. They thankfully live on the second floor and only have to climb down 2 flights, rather than the unlucky tenants living on the 7th floor.

During their walk to the car, nervousness rises within Lux. They’re going to a Halloween party hosted by friends from their sociology course, Dina and Jesse. May is better friends with them, but Lux doesn’t know them quite as well. She decides she will cling onto May for the duration of the party, her one semblance of comfort. But there’s also a little fizzle of excitement present, for the hopes she will make friends outside of her sweet, Southern belle roommate, who already has so many other friends. Lux loves to chat with people, surprisingly. She could talk and talk forever, about everything. But it’s hard to find people who like to talk like she does. May loves to talk, too, and she thinks that’s why they are akin to sisters.

They reach Lux’s beat up Acura from many moons ago. Lux slips into the drivers seat and May in the passengers. As they drive to Dina and Jesse’s apartment, which is further in the heart of the city, they talk about the mundane things, like their rent this month, what they need from the store, whether or not they remembered to take the trash out. And once they’re at a stoplight, they partake in frivolous gossip, discussing the girl from May’s psychology course who’s pregnant, the on-and-off again couple that lives next door, and their especially impassioned reunion from the previous night. They talk each other's ears off until they find a parking spot across the street from Jesse and Dina’s place. It rained earlier and they drive through a puddle as they park, the water sloshing up against the side of the car.

They unbuckle their seatbelts. May excitedly collects her belongings off her lap, carelessly bundling them under one arm, her other hand latched around the door handle. She curiously peeks over at Lux, whose fingers are still wrapped around the steering wheel, her mouth a dour frown. Her anxiety is rising, that dense, leaden feeling creeping over her all over again. “You look nervous,” May says, stating the obvious. Lux laughs humorlessly. “Yeah, I am.”

May keeps smiling, warm and sympathetic. Her smile reminds Lux of this really kind English teacher she has in high school, who read the words off the pages of their books tenderly and intricately. And she always smiled at Lux, even after she’d come in 10 minutes late to class. May resembles her unconditional kindness. “It’s gonna be alright, Lux. We’re gonna meet people, drink a little… maybe you’ll get lucky,” she assures, nudging Lux with her elbow, scratchy pink dress sleeve and all. Lux snorts at the last part. “Like that’ll ever happen.”

She takes a few deep breaths, May patting her back, before they exit the car. Lux locks the car, then steps into the puddly street, crossing it alongside May, who eagerly hops and skips with a childlike excitement, her glittery high heels clicking against the cement. They walk up onto the sidewalk, and into the apartment complex. It smells like weed and a mixture of perfumes. There’s an elevator. Lux groans with envy. “Imagine if we had one of these,” she murmurs, walking up to the shiny metal doors. May sighs, nodding. “That’d be wonderful.”

She presses the arrow pointing upwards, then they wait. People flood in behind them, costumed, but still familiar. Lux thinks she’s seen some of them on campus. The elevator reaches their floor. The doors open forcefully, rusty metal screeching. Lux and May step inside, and the other attendees pile in behind them. As the elevator fills up, they are squished to the back, trapped between some girls dressed as M&M’s and the deteriorating wall of the elevator. It smells like perfume, the cloyish, nauseating type in plastic bottles. There’s chatter and a myriad of drunken excitement.

They reach the third floor, where Dina and Jesse are located, and the little crowd pours out of the elevator. May and Lux follow the people down the hall, all the way to Jesse and Dina’s apartment, 6C. Lux can hear the music from outside the apartment, leaking through the walls and vibrating through her. May links her arm with Lux’s, squealing quietly with excitement as the apartment door is opened, and the crowd begins to squeeze through the threshold, and into the apartment.

Lux tries to appear relaxed as May drags her through the doorway, but her heart is beating so hard that it feels like it’s hurting. There are so many people, a sea of lewd costumes and the smell of beer spilled on the laminate floors. The music is impossibly loud, pouring from two speakers in the corner. Lux begins to wonder how so many people have squeezed into this averagely sized apartment when a body crashes into hers, arms hugging around her waist.

She can smell Dina’s perfume immediately, faint and delicate usually, but with her nose pressed to her hair, the scent of vanilla and chamomile is overwhelming. “You guys came!” She exclaims, keeping Lux in her grip, who is taken aback at Dina’s absolute warmth, despite them not knowing each other as well as her and May do.

“We did,” Lux laughs, patting Dina’s back as she pulls away. Her dark brown eyes are dilated and pink blossoms over her freckled cheeks. She brings a red solo up to her mouth, gulping down what Lux presumes to be beer. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” Lux half-jokes, earning a loud laugh from Dina, louder than it should be, because Lux wasn’t even really joking. “I am. Do you want anything to drink?” She asks, placing her hand on Lux’s arm tenderly. Lux nods. “I can get it, if you s-“ Dina stops her, shaking her head firmly. “Me and Jesse are hosts. We will gladly get you a drink,” she purrs jokingly, turning away from Lux, her hand still resting on her arm as she beckons Jesse over, who’s chatting with May.

He’s dressed as Patrick Bateman, his blood splattered coat swishing as he comes over to greet Lux and see what Dina needs. “Lux,” he greets, more lowkey than Dina as he smiles and pulls Lux in for a quick hug. “Hey,” she greets, nodding her head. “Can you get her a drink?” Dina asks him gently. He nods. “Of course.”

He disappears into the kitchenette. The white countertops are scattered with red solo cups and chip bags. “I love your costume, you look amazing!” Dina chirps, taking a step back to admire Lux’s appearance. Lux laughs, her cheeks reddening as she shakes her head. “I’m a cat, least creative costume ever.” Dina scoffs and shrugs. “No way. I’m not even in a costume,” she counters, motioning to her skirt and top.

Lux laughs. “You look great, don’t stress about it.”

May has disappeared in the crowd. Lux is only half-panicking, Dina’s warmth a comfort to her. “Here you go,” Jesse’s voice says from behind her suddenly. She turns around, and smiles thankfully at him. “Thanks, Jesse,” she murmurs, taking the red solo cup and nudging him with her shoulder.

She immediately gulps down half the cup of beer, the contents bitter and lukewarm in her throat. She cringes slightly. She’s never really liked beer, but it’s all they’ve got, and she needs a buzz to start loosening up. “Damn,” Jesse laughs, causing Lux to bring the cup away from her mouth, her cheeks reddening even more as she swipes a hand across her mouth.

“Just trying to loosen up,” she says, causing Dina’s eyes to light up. She steps forward, taking Lux’s hand. “Let’s do some networking,” she says, causing Lux’s eyes to widen. “Yeah, no,” she argues, shaking her head and laughing dryly. Dina is still smiling as she drags Lux away from her safe little corner of the apartment. “Nope. We can get you more beer, but for now, we’re gonna socialize.”

Lux groans as her and Dina penetrate the crowd. Several people greet Dina excitedly, hugging or kissing her cheek, their faces lighting up. A bitter little piece of Lux wishes people had the same reaction to her. Every time someone greets Dina, she eagerly introduces them to Lux. A few people, she recognizes from various classes or around campus. Their introductions to one another are lukewarm and stale, a halfhearted wave and meek “hello.” Dina isn’t satisfied.

Lux guzzles down the rest of her beer.

Dina drags her back to the kitchen, fetching her another cup, then back into the abyss they go.

This pattern goes on, and after two cups, Lux is beginning to feel slightly inebriated, her body warm and her eyes hazy as she drifts around the apartment with Dina. She greets people with a bit more warmth and openness, getting into mildly exciting small talk, even having a 5 minute conversation about her sociology professor’s lax policies with a guy from the class.

“Progress,” Dina whispers once they depart from that conversation. Lux laughs, warm and watery and unrestricted. Dina suddenly jerks her a bit, causing Lux to glance at her. She snaps her fingers, her eyes widening slightly. “I know someone you’d get along with perfectly. We’ve just gotta find her,” Dina says, murmuring the last part as she begins to stand on her tiptoes, glancing frantically around the myriad of faces.

Lux is curious to find this other person. She’s feeling relaxed now, that firecracker of crackling, red hot panic fizzling away into ash. She can feel herself falling into place. Dina drags her around. She doesn’t mind, her face warm and a tingly feeling in her stomach.

“Ellie!” She shouts. The name sounds familiar to Lux. She tries to pinpoint who that may be, but an overwhelming blur of phases comes to mind. A woman a few feet away turns around, her eyes widened slightly. Dina rushes forward, her hand still clutching Lux, dragging her forward, the contents of her red solo cup sloshing around. “I have someone for you to meet,” she says, turning to Lux and wiggling her eyebrows in a way that makes Lux scoff.

Lux gets a look at the girl before them. She has auburn-brown hair that just about reaches her shoulders, pulled back in a half up half down style. Her face is freckled and her skin is pale. She wears a dress shirt with a black tie, tucked into black slacks, leather dress shoes on her feet, and black leather gloves. Lux feels her face warming even more… she looks really good.

Lux stares at her, her eyes narrowing as she begins to make a connection. This is the girl from her philosophy class, she thinks, the one who sits at the front, but is impeccably silent and passive, but even every once in awhile, she’ll make a snarky comment or joke. Her comments are funny and rare, making the class erupt in laughter, and their professor always sighs.

“You’re from my philosophy class, I think?” Lux asks, unsure if her drunken brain is mixing something up. Ellie nods, smiling faintly. “Yeah. You’re Lux, right?” She nods. “Ellie?” “Yes,” she confirms, holding her hand out. Lux shakes it with the hand that’s not being crushed by Dina, who wears an excited little smirk.

“I can see you guys are getting along, so I’m gonna go grab a drink,” she says, giving Lux’s hand a squeeze. Lux rolls her eyes, making Dina laugh and pull her hand away. She turns away, weaving through the crowd in her apartment. Lux turns towards Ellie, who’s still smiling politely. “Well, how do you know Dina?” She asks, taking a sip of her beer. “We’ve been friends since high school,” she answers. “How do you know her?” Lux laughs. “Well, I didn’t really know her that well before tonight. I knew Jesse more… but that hasn’t stopped her from dragging me around.”

Ellie snorts, shaking her head. “Typical Dina.”

Lux doesn’t let them stand in silence. “What are you dressed as?” She asks, nodding her head towards Ellie, who smiles wider. “A mobster,” she answers, showing off her suit. Lux nods her head, laughing quietly. Ellie brings her cup to her mouth, her eyes scanning over Lux, making her feel small and exposed. “You’re a cat, I take it?” Lux feigns shock. “How’d you know?” Ellie chuckles, shaking her head, then standing on her tiptoes, glancing over Lux’s head. She then glances down at Lux. Lux didn’t realize how much taller Ellie is than her. Combined with the suit, she’s domineering physically. Lux’s stomach churns with a feeling she doesn’t want to put a name to. “Let’s find somewhere to sit,” Ellie says. Lux nods in agreement, swallowing the urge to smile. Ellie… wants to be near her, she thinks? She feels silly in the way her heart flutters as Ellie leads her over to the couch in the center of the apartment, glancing behind to make sure Lux is still with her every few seconds.

They reach the couch. It’s piled with people, including Jesse and Dina, who smile and wave excitedly at Ellie and Lux. Lux can see the mischievous glimmer in Dina’s eyes as she glances between her and Ellie. “Scooch,” Ellie says to Jesse, tapping him with the end of her dress shoe. He scoffs, rolling his eyes and rising from the sofa. Dina follows his lead with more eagerness. “Are you two enjoying yourselves?” Dina asks, trying to feign innocence, but failing when her mouth curves into a suggestive smile. “Stop,” Lux mouths to Dina furiously, making her purse her lips to swallow a giggle. Ellie turns towards Lux, her eyes roaming over her briefly, before turning back to Dina, nodding her head. “I’d say so.”

Dina’s eyes widen slightly, and she grins, absolutely and inconsolably thrilled. Lux rolls her eyes. “Okay, we’ll leave you two alone then,” Dina says, taking Jesse by his arm, and dragging him away. Lux hears her excitedly squeal as she distances herself. Ellie and her sit down on the sofa. With the several other party-goers bunched alongside them, the women are squished together, Lux’s leather clad knee digging into Ellie’s. Ellie’s legs are spread slightly, her arm dangling on the back of the couch. Lux finds herself staring at the woman crammed beside her, in awe at her effortless coolness and beauty. She thinks of all the makeup she’s wearing, the tight leather and accessorizing she’s done, then Ellie’s sleek, low maintenance look, the type of beauty anyone could envy. She’s not exactly feeling bad now… but absolutely perplexed at how people are born with the essence of pretty.

“You okay?” Ellie asks, her slit eyebrows furrowing together. Lux is rescued from the daze she finds herself falling into; a trap. She re-adjusts her focus onto Ellie. “Of course.”

Lux finishes her third beer, and discards the cup on the end table beside the couch. It’s sticky and overcrowded, making Lux wince slightly. “Do you normally go to parties?” Lux asks. Ellie shakes her head. “I tend to be quiet.” Lux nods. “I really love talking to people, but it’s hard to actually… leave the house, y’know?” Ellie’s eyes light up. She snorts, nodding immediately at Lux’s confession. “That’s exactly it… once I start talking, I wonder why I don’t do it more,” she elaborates. Lux giggles, bumping Ellie’s shoulder with her own. It feels like the restraints she’s enforced upon herself have disappeared with the help of the beer and Ellie’s company. “Maybe we should make a pact,” Lux suggests jokingly. Ellie smirks, nodding. “I’m down.”

The women talk more about their complicated relationships with socialization, then about their philosophy class, their rigid professor, and how painfully boring it is. Lux is halfway leaning on Ellie when she giggles, thinking of Ellie’s snarky comments in class. “Your comments in class every few days are like, my favorite thing. That’s the only part I pay attention to,” Lux admits. Her voice feels loud and resounding in her head. She doesn't think she can stop it. Ellie laughs, gazing at Lux with her hazy green eyes. “That’s generous of you,” she retorts, earning a laugh and gentle nudge from Lux. “I’m serious! You’re really funny, clever too.” Ellie smiles brightly, laughing to herself as she leans into Lux’s side. “I have a confession to make…” she murmurs, just loud enough for Lux to hear, like it’s something sacred and protected in the bumbling apartment. Lux raises an eyebrow, humming as confirmation for Ellie to continue. She sighs, rubbing her face with her left hand, body shaking slightly with laughter. “In class… I stare at you like, all the time.”

Lux’s eyes widen slightly, her lips curling into a little smirk. Everything inside of her feels ignited. “I never noticed,” she replies, earning a look of mild shock from Ellie. Lux shrugs. “Seriously, I didn’t,” she confirms, making Ellie scoff. “Really? I don’t know how. I literally stare at you like, every minute. I get like… trapped, y’know?” she explains. Lux chuckles, her face reddened and warm as she leans her head into Ellie’s shoulder. “That’s really sweet, Ellie. I’ll have to look out for you next class.” She can feel Ellie’s body tremble again as she chuckles. “I feel like a creep now,” she admits in a low, quiet voice that makes Lux shiver.

“You aren’t a creep. That’s quite flattering,” she assures. Ellie sighs. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve been freaking out all night over your costume,” Lux says, earning a look from Ellie, surprised and suspicious. “Really?” Lux nods. “You look… really good,” she confirms, her heart throbbing in her chest at this confession. Ellie smiles sweetly. “That’s nice of you to say,” she says. Lux quirks an eyebrow. “You don’t sound convinced,” she murmurs, earning a scoff from Ellie. “I’m sorry, but it’s surprising!” she exclaims, putting her hands up in a defensive manner. Lux rolls her eyes. “Just take my word for it.”

The fast-paced music thumping throughout the apartment fades into a slower song. It’s still impossibly loud, but pleasant all at once. Ellie holds her hand out, resting on Lux’s knee. “Wanna dance?” Lux cringes when she imagines embarrassing herself on the dancefloor with Ellie, but everything in her tingles when she thinks of Ellie’s hands on her waist. “Sure.”

They rise from the couch, Ellie relaxed, and Lux shaky and nervous. Ellie takes her hand, dragging her along, into the abyss of people dancing. She worries over every little thing. Are her hands too clammy? Will she trip in these boots? Does she smell bad? They stop. Ellie turns around, smiling faintly as her hands brace Lux’s waist. “Is this okay?” she whispers. “Yes,” Lux squeaks, apprehensively wrapping her arms behind Ellie’s neck. They’re so close. Lux can feel Ellie’s warm breath fanning her face, can see the tiny mole below her left eye, can hear the cotton of Ellie’s dress shirt squeaking against her leather catsuit.

“I really like your costume,” Ellie purrs quietly. Lux raises her eyebrows and smiles suggestively, forcing the confidence she can’t seem to muster right now. “I’m glad.” She moves closer, her chest pressed against Ellie’s, her mouth pressed to the shell of her ear. Her heart is thundering beneath the confines of her ribcage. “Would you be interested in going somewhere a little more,” she pauses, eying the crowd engulfing them. “...private?” Ellie chuckles, her arms hugging Lux’s waist tightly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They stand in the middle of the balmy, beer stained apartment, swaying even as the song switches back to some loud EDM beat. Lux could be here forever, she thinks. All she needs is Ellie’s arms, enveloping her, warming and keeping her safe like a blanket. “We can make our escape in a minute… I just really like being hugged by you,” Lux promises. Ellie softens, like she’s melting into Lux. She nuzzles her face into Lux’s dark hair, sighing happily.

“I really like hugging you too.”

They stand motionless, for seconds, minutes, hours, days, so on and so forth. Time feels far away, truly intangible, as they lean into one another. Lux eventually peels herself off of Ellie, smiling gently and taking Ellie’s hand. “Bedroom?” Ellie asks quietly, nodding towards the door at the end of the narrow hallway in the apartment. Lux immediately nods. “Anything.”

She leads Ellie this time, their fingers interwoven as they weave through the sweaty, increasingly inebriated crowd. An excitement she hasn’t felt in a long time fizzles through her in waves, festering as they walk down the hallway, and reach the end. Lux releases Ellie’s hand, opening the bedroom door, and going inside. It looks empty besides the bed. Lux sighs. “Hopefully this isn’t Jesse and Dina’s room.” Ellie laughs, shrugging her shoulders. “Too late now.”

Lux sits on the foot of the bed, folding her hands in her lap. Ellie stands before her, smiling absentmindedly, hands in her pockets. Lux glances up at her, the sight of Ellie towering over her only encouraging the flame in the pit of her stomach. “You’re so hot,” she blurts out, rising to her feet. Red blossoms over her cheeks. She feels impassioned and impulsive as she takes Ellie’s face in her hands. Ellie scoffs, shaking her head. “Please, you’re the gorgeous one,” she murmurs, leaning in, bridging the small gap between them as she kisses Lux, silencing any arguments she may have had.

Lux feels overcome with warmth and a glowing, radiant happiness as she kisses Ellie with a vehemence she’s never had for anyone else. Ellie’s hands slide over the leather of Lux’s catsuit, making squeaky noises that cause Lux to wince. Ellie notices this, and breaks their kiss, eyebrows furrowed and lips swollen. “Is everything alright?” She asks. Lux giggles breathlessly, nodding. “Y-yeah, it’s just… the leather, the sounds make me cringe,” she explains meekly. Ellie raises an eyebrow. “We’ll have to take it off… what a shame.”

Lux snorts, stepping away from Ellie. She begins to take off her boots, tugging the thigh high on her left thigh down, but Ellie stops her, placing her gloved hand on Lux’s knee, and kneeling down. “Let me help?” Lux nods, and returns to her sitting place on the end of the bed while Ellie removes her boots with less urgency.

Once the boots are off, Ellie rises back up, gazing down at Lux, who unzips the front of the catsuit, peeling it down her arms and waist. Ellie’s eyes widen every so slightly, her cheeks blossoming red when she sees that Lux’s chest is bare. “No bra?” She asks, meaning to sound playful, but her voice comes out deep and dark and lustful. Lux swallows the lump in her throat and nods, before standing up.

“Can you help?” She asks. Ellie immediately nods, and helps peel the suit down the rest of her body. She drags the leather down Lux’s hips, then her thighs, and down her calves and off of her feet. She discards the suit, then turns back towards Lux, stepping forward. Lux places her hands on Ellie’s neck, gently pulling her into her chest, kissing her mouth. The leather of her gloves slides over the nape of Lux’s neck, delicate yet overpowering. Her tongue slips into Lux’s mouth, the velvety leather covering her fingers sliding down her shoulders. Lux groans quietly against Ellie, her hands bracing Ellie’s neck a bit tighter.

Ellie pulls away, the tip of her nose brushing against Lux’s. “Lay down,” she demands quietly. Lux obeys, sitting back on the bed, lying back into the stiff mattress. In Ellie’s grasp, any semblance of wanting to dominate fades away, replaced by a dizzying thirst to be controlled. Ellie climbs over her, her mouth a firm line. She looks wonderful like this, Lux thinks, above her, dressed in that crisp suit, her black satin tie tickling her chest.

Ellie is straddling her thighs briefly as she moves to remove her gloves, but Lux quickly stops her, gently grabbing her wrists. Ellie glances at her, raising an eyebrow, questioning her. “Leave the gloves on,” she suggests, begs, breathlessly. Ellie’s mouth quirks into a dark, twisted little smile that makes Lux shudder. “As you wish.”

Ellie leans down, her lips peppering delicate, teasing kisses on Lux’s throat. Her gloved hands rub over Lux’s stomach and hips. The rough leather combined with the silken feel of Ellie’s mouth sends a chill across the back of her neck, her dark eyes shutting, nimble fingers tangling in Ellie’s hair. Her mouth travels downwards, tongue dancing over Lux’s sternum, then her abs, and then, just below her belly button, just above the warmth between her thighs. Ellie’s hair tickles her skin. Lux can see tiny goosebumps erupting over her arms and legs. Ellie’s fingers tuck into the waistband of Lux’s underwear. She looks up from her resting place atop Lux’s thighs. Her expression is driven and serious, green eyes nearly consumed by black. “Are you okay up there?” she asks, voice raspy and torn with want.

“Yes,” Lux breathes, extending her arm down to Ellie, and caressing her flustered face with her thumb. Ellie smiles, and places her hand over Lux’s, bringing it to her lips, and kissing it gently. Lux’s heart feels like it’s melting into a pile of warmth, saccharine and blithe. She brings her hand back to her side while Ellie takes off her panties. She discards the black lacy underwear on the ground. Her hands part Lux’s thighs. Lux can feel her heart throbbing with a painful intensity, the hair on the back of her neck prickling up when Ellie’s fingers begin to rub her clit. She gasps softly, her body arching, leaning into Ellie’s touch.

“Fuck,” she hisses, pressing herself against Ellie’s hand subconsciously, like it’s secondnature. Ellie then removes her fingers, sliding down the bed, and placing herself on the floor, her knees bent into the stained carpet as she beckons Lux down. She scoots down, her legs dangling over the mattress. Ellie slots herself between Lux’s thighs, reapplying her fingers. Lux closes her eyes, lips parting as she feels herself dipping back into the bed. Ellie quickly loops her free hand around Lux’s back, leathery fingers pressing against her spine to hold her upright. “Eyes open, I want to see you,” she commands. Lux doesn’t have a second thought. Ellie’s altered something in her, a fundamental gear that has operated forever in her, a staunchly independent spirit, everything she’s ever done working in tandem with what she wants. But she mindlessly obeys the girl kneeling between her legs, any semblance of resistance fading into submission.

Her warm, hazy eyes meet Ellie’s, sharp and blown wide, like those of a mad man. But she’s still in control, perfectly competent, meanwhile, Lux can barely hold herself together, melting against Ellie’s skilled fingers. “Ellie,” she begins, her voice a runny whine, wanting more pressure on her clit. Ellie simply raises an eyebrow, seizing the movement of her hand. “Oh, should I stop?” she says, sounding devastatingly serious. “No!” Lux immediately blurts out. Her own voice echoes in her mind, sounding desperate and unstable. She would cringe if she wasn’t nearly in tears over a girl she met at a party fingering her.

“I… I want it harder.” Ellie strokes the pad of her thumb over Lux’s clit, butterfly light kisses from the leather of her glove that leave her twitching. Ellie leans down, pressing a tedious kiss to her inner thigh. She stares up at Lux. “Can you ask nicely?” she murmurs. Lux is embarrassed at the way her body tingles and softens at Ellie’s word. “Please, Ellie,” she pleads, quiet, docile. Ellie gives her what she wants and more.

Her gloved fingers press harder against Lux’s clit, rubbing tedious, intentional circles. This is enough to make Lux moan, her entire body twitching with each rub Ellie offers. Then, Ellie bows her head completely. Lux can feel the jarring sensation of Ellie’s wet tongue against her pussy, her fingers still on her clit. The combination of her hand and mouth is earth-shattering, Lux thinks, maybe being a bit generous in such a heated moment. The surprising addition sends her reeling, her back only held upwards by Ellie’s free hand. Lux rests her leg on Ellie’s shoulder, the soft fat of her thigh grazing the side of Ellie’s head. Ellie groans, the sound reverberating against Lux. Her face is beet red, sweat beginning to dribble down her back. She begins to grind herself against Ellie’s tongue and fingers, lost in a cacophony of moans and gasps. She opens her eyes, staring down at Ellie, who’s gaze remains, unwavering and determined to make Lux come.

“You look so pretty like this,” she drawls, her lips brushing against the twitching, wet warmth between Lux’s thighs. Her chest rises and falls as Ellie begins to eat her out again, everything tingly and slick. She feels out of control in a wonderful way, all earthly responsibilities suspended, autonomy seized for the night. “Ellie,” she whimpers, her foot pressing into Ellie’s back, pushing her closer. Ellie can feel her body seizing, the flushing on her face and chest. “Not yet,” she demands. She then begins to lick Lux again, fingers moving hard and fast. The roughness of the leather and the softness of her tongue is making the thing Ellie has tasked her with impossible. “I-I can’t,” she whines. Ellie stops licking again, and laughs dryly. “Then beg for it.” She resumes her actions, tongue prodding Lux’s entrance, earning a particularly loud moan from her. “F-fuck, please, Ellie, p-please,” she breathes. “Please what?” Ellie counters. Lux sighs, and Ellie chuckles wickedly.

“Please let me come.” Ellie smiles for the first time in their encounter. “Good girl.”

She licks and moves her fingers with as much skill as she can muster. Her hand rubs Lux’s back as her chest begins rising and falling again, her dark eyes focused on Ellie’s eyes. “God, you’re perfect, Lux. Such a good girl,” she encourages, moving her mouth down, kissing and gently biting Lux’s inner thighs. “O-oh,” Lux gasps, her eyebrows furrowing together, hand extending down, cupping Ellie’s. Something warm and powerful and profound is unleashed in Lux, like a tide passing over her, washing away everything that has ever spurred pain, anything that’s not absolute pleasure and warmth. It feels like some odd, dramatic awakening, crooning in a peak of sheer pleasure.

The pleasure that exploded like fireworks begins to fizzle into a relaxation, her body hunching over, everything between her legs tingly and sensitive in the afterglow. Ellie wraps both hands around her waist, resting her head on Lux’s thighs, smiling tenderly. Lux wraps her arms around Ellie’s shoulders, like they’re shielding each other from the world outside of this crummy apartment. “Was I okay?” Ellie asks, sounding meek, unlike the fierce woman she was a moment ago.

Lux laughs, rubbing Ellie’s upper back. “You were wonderful.”

She lifts her head, blushing up at Lux. “Do you want anything?” Lux whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of Ellie’s head, like it’s instinct. She shakes her head, and stands up, only to place herself on the foot of the bed, body leaning into Lux’s side. “Nah, I’m pretty tired, honestly… but maybe we could see each other again?”

Ellie presses a kiss to Lux’s freckled shoulder. She nods. “I would love to see you again.”

They stay there as the night yawns on, cocooned in the safe afterglow of one another.

37 notes • Posted 2021-07-08 04:52:16 GMT

#2

could write the filthiest smut based off this one video🤰someone else pls do it for me

113 notes • Posted 2021-06-30 03:35:47 GMT

#1

so gay for ashley johnson…

200 notes • Posted 2021-11-16 01:10:02 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[blessedbucky]

money power glory

pairing: skinny!steve x plus size!reader

summary: it’s 1921 and prohibition is in full swing. there’s an overwhelming demand for alcohol and steve, one of new york’s most notorious mobsters, wants to cash in. you and your product present the perfect opportunity

warnings: steve’s a mobster and reader is a bootlegger so obvious mentions of illegal activities, alcohol, oral (female receiving), squirting, daddy kink (if you squint really hard)

a/n: please be kind to me this is my first ever reader insert. anyway @gagmebucky said give me mobster!steve and my brain went HOLD MY FUCKING BEER. it’s mostly just me being a history buff and spiraling out of control with plot and having little smut. tagging @strawberrylovessebby and @angel-fire and @genderfluiddiscogay because they asked and i'm a weak bitch for them

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

The very first time that Steve meets you, you’re on the back of a massive stallion. The enormous beast is barreling toward Steve and you don’t seem to be making any attempt at reigning the horse in to either make it slow down or move in another direction that’s not straight at him. Steve assumes this is a ploy your father’s come up with to intimidate him and Steve hasn’t gotten to where he is by tucking his tail between his legs and backing down in the face of danger and death. So, while his men curse and scramble around to the other side of the car that’s out of the way of your warpath, Steve straightens, squares his chin, and stands his ground.

Steve Rogers is one stubborn son of a bitch and if he’s going to be working with your family the way he wants to, it’s best you all know that now up front.

Your horse is probably about a foot away from Steve when you finally command it to stop. You’re dramatic and it one last show to intimidate Steve, you make the horse reel back on its hindlegs, kicking up dirt and neighing so loud it echoes. The animal’s hot breath fans out across Steve’s face for a moment before you tug at the reins, make a noise, and the horse dutifully turns to the side allowing Steve a better look at you.

Down here, hidden away in the slopes and hills of the Appalachian Mountains, you’re the opposite of the women that try to flock to the sides of Steve and his men. You’ve kept your hair long, going against the modern fashion. There’s a bandana around your head, keeping your hair out of your face. There’s sweat on your brow and smudges of dirt on your plump cheeks. Even dressed in your dirtied work overalls, he can see you’re all curves—wide hips, thick thighs, soft stomach, plush ass, and he could wax poetry about your oh-so-generous chest.

Steve’s bullheaded, but he’s not stupid. Atop your horse, staring down at him with a raised brow, he’ll admit that you’re the most gorgeous woman he’s ever met. And…he has to unfortunately also admit to himself that you’re off-limits. He really can’t drop the ball on a potentially lucrative business deal by fucking a partner’s daughter.

Steve thinks you’ve both sized each other up enough, so he breaks the silence with a polite, “Ma’am.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Mister Rogers,” you reply with your southern drawl. Your voice is also sickly sweet. “I hope the trip wasn’t too hard on all y’all.” I hope the trip wasn’t too hard on a skinny little thing like you, you don’t say but Steve hears all the same.

Steve shoots you the same grin he wears when he’s smashing men’s skulls in. You’re a fighter. As much a hellion as that horse you’re riding. Guess Bucky’s been right all these years, saying Steve gets his rocks off on danger.

“Girl,” your father’s voice booms. He’s in a matching pair of overalls, a pitchfork over his shoulder, storming toward you and Steve. “Lord, you’ve got your momma rolling in her grave, treating guests this way,” your father scolds and you duck your head like a proper, chastised southern belle. Your father can’t see the mischievous twinkle in your eye, though. “The hell’d you get that horse out for? You want to break your neck? He ain’t trained enough. Go put that horse back in the barn, wash up, get started on supper, and then you’ll meet this fella you asked to come down here.”

“Yes, daddy.” Steve’s eyes glaze over at hearing the word daddy leave those sinfully beautiful lips of yours. He’s thinking with his dick too much to completely process your father’s words and their meaning. His eyes are still locked on you as you dismount the horse. You flash Steve a smile, dangerously sharp, and he thinks he might be in love.

When you’ve disappeared into a nearby barn, your father claps Steve on the shoulder. “Aw, hell, I’m sorry, Rogers. I swear that girl’s got manners. She’s probably tired. We’ve been workin’ all day to get this corn picked. Way she was making it sound, you got here faster than she thought you would.” He gives Steve a slap on the back now. “Well, go on inside and make yourself comfortable. She’ll talk details with yah over supper.”

Steve blinks, confused. “Sir?”

Your father gives Steve a shit-eating grin. “Ain’t you heard, Rogers? You’ll be talking to my girl. She’s the one that handles the business. All I do is go up in them there woods, sit around with my buddies, drinking while we wait for the moonshine to cook. She sets up all the deals, handles the bookkeeping—” your father pauses and innocently asks, “Didn’t she say all this in them letters she’s been writing?”

No. No, you did not and your father knows that. It looks like troublemaking runs in your blood.

You’re waiting for Steve on the porch—face washed clean, dirt scrubbed away from your hands, bandana stripped from your hair that’s now pulled back with a white ribbon, and wearing in a simple yet pretty cornflower blue dress. You hold the door open, stepping to the side, still smiling at Steve in that predatory way. “Why don’t you come on in the kitchen and we’ll talk business while I’m cooking?”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

A year ago, in 1920, Steve had watched the high and mighty people clamor out onto the streets of New York to pour out and smash their bottles of liquor on the ground. It’d marked the official start to Prohibition and all Steve could think about during the whole spectacle was potential.

Of course, it wasn’t Steve and his crew alone who tried to cash in on the overwhelming demand for booze that was declared illegal. People are always going to get their hands on what they want. There have been tales of men who pass out miniature stills that allow people to make their own gin right there in their homes. Bathtub gin, he hears it’s called. You scoff and turn your nose up at the mention of it and call it exactly what it is—rotgut. You and your father are craftsmen in the art of alcohol. You give people what they want. Quality.

Slowly but surely, you’ve been working to spread your family’s name around. You explain to Steve that your father has been making moonshine since you were a child to make extra cash on the side. When your mother unexpectedly passed, he decided you were old enough to learn how to do it yourself. But like any small-town girl, you want more.

“And once Prohibition hit, cousin, business was a-booming,” you cheekily remark.

Steve wants to come to the rescue. He wants to make you a partner. You’ve got a high-class product that people will scramble to get their hands on. It’s not that watered-down shit he’s had to swallow down at speakeasies. He’ll pay to bring your business to New York. That, you argue, is not as easy as he makes it out to be, and shit goes downhill from there.

You and Steve spend hours arguing. Steve thinks you’re just wanting to be difficult for the sake of being difficult, but you bring up a lot of fair points. Stacking up problems that Steve assures can be tackled with enough money. There’s a reason you and all the other bootleggers are stranded where you are—you need good, dry corn. The hard waters of Kentucky, rich with limestone and other minerals, make the process of making moonshine easier. What about the copper stills you need? Plain steel just won’t do for you.

It’s getting late in the night. You and Steve are both red-faced and as spitting mad as you were at the start. Your father had left you two alone hours ago, shaking his head and snickering, knowing you can handle your own. “Jesus Christ,” you snarl suddenly after staring out the window at the nighttime skies. You stomp over to grab his upper arm. “Keep running your mouth, I don’t care, but you’re gonna have to do it while I’m working.”

By working, you mean speeding through the dark and winding roads of Appalachia in your pride and joy, a Ford car, with a crate of mason jars between you two. Before it gets hot, you explain that local coppers have been trying and failing for years to catch your father in the act. Steve knows the cops don’t think a little thing who looks and talks as sweet as you could possibly be the brains behind the operation. The cops show up on your tail and you cackle before you put on the speed. Steve forgets all about his anger, watching you drive like a maniac under the moonlight, wind whipping your hair around your face. With his backroom deals, greasing the hands of cops with money, he’d forgotten the thrill of this. The chase.

You swerve off the road, parking your car on a little remote trail the cops obviously have no idea about. You both watch as the cops speed away, chasing nothing but a ghost. Well, with how expertly you’ve been driving, they’ve been chasing ghosts all night long. After you both come down from the adrenaline high, you say, “I don’t think this’ll work, Steve. I want it to, but…it ain’t a good move. It’ll be more trouble than it’s all worth.” And you sound genuinely upset about that.

Steve’s not ready to let a woman like you slip out of his fingers just yet. “Why don’t you come up to New York with me?”

You scoff. It’s a bitter sound. “I’m not some blushing virgin that you can get one over on. I know good and damn well what a kept woman is and that ain’t the life for me. I won’t lay around in your bed and spread my legs for you while you take over what I’ve worked hard at building my whole life.”

Steve slides a little closer to you and pushes some hair behind your ear. The late hour makes him brave…or stupid, if he’s been reading your signals wrong. “Sweetheart, I’d love nothing more than to have you in my bed.” You turn your head toward him and he can feel your burning glare more than he can see it in the moonlight. “But that’s not what I meant. I didn’t lie when I said I wanted you as a partner. I want you to come to New York and see what I have and what I can do.”

“I know this may be hard for a city boy like you to believe, but not everything is better in the city.”

“I can show you a few things we do better in the city,” Steve suggests lowly.

Slowly, you turn your head and your nose brushes past his. He can feel the warmth of your breath on his lips. “You usually this friendly with your partners?”

“My best friends, Bucky and Sam, they’ve both fucked me a few times over the years. You’ll learn this fast, honey, but I may have a thing for pretty people that can put me in my place.” He wants to pretend he didn’t hear the hitch in your breath. He leans back and gives you some space. Oh, well. He’s not going to lie about who he is. “You can tell me to fuck off.”

“I think we need to talk about your business practices there, Rogers. I was buried between Minnie Dean’s legs and you don’t see me giving her the recipe to daddy’s moonshine.” Steve breaks out into a fit of quiet laughter. You try to be serious, but you instantly cave and giggle along with him. It really is a beautiful sound.

“You win,” you breathe out after the two of you have gotten control of yourselves. “I’ll go with you. I can bring some corn. You can get a copper still. We’ll see what we can do with the water up there.” You reach out, playfully tap his cheek once, but your hand lingers on his skin. “Get out of the car, Brooklyn. Let’s see what you got.”

Steve lures you out of the car and into the cool autumn night. You two don’t stray very far. Steve leads you around to the front of the car and presses you down against the hood. He tugs at that pretty little ribbon in your hair and you sigh so beautifully when he runs his hand through your locks. Your hair fans out across the steel, glinting in the moonlight.

Pretty words won’t work on you, but you look like a fucking angel. Then, finally, he’s leaning down and kissing you. It doesn’t surprise him your kisses are biting, stinging, a warning that you’re as dangerous as him. Here you are, looking like an angel, but you’re so obviously a serpent underneath the surface. Father Donahue would have some words about a woman like you. Lucifer, a fallen angel, the vile snake come to lead a lamb astray. Steve hasn’t been an innocent lamb in a long time, though.

His mouth drops down to nip at the delicate skin of your neck and you tilt your head back, baring your throat. “Minnie Dean ever return the favor?”

“That asshole brother she’s got came too close for comfort and spooked her off.” You chuckle dryly. “If what you really wanna know if anyone’s ever had their mouth on me down there, answer’s no. I’d hate to suffocate someone with my thighs and have ‘em die on me before I get mine.”

Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, isn’t that a fucking crime? On one hand, yeah, he’s going to be puffing up with pride after tonight because he’s the first person to ever get a taste of that sweetness between your thighs. On the other hand, he wants to kill the people who haven’t treated you like the treasure you are. “Even if you could do something like that, I think I’d still die the happiest man in the world.”

Then, Steve sinks down to his knees in front of you. He carefully settles his hands on your calves and you hiss at the touch of his icy fingers on your flesh. It’s a common complaint. He’ll let your skin warm him up. He slides his hands up your legs, teasingly slow, and begins pushing the fabric of your dress up and out of the way the higher he goes. Steve greedily takes it all in, watching and touching all this smooth, soft skin that’s slowly revealed to him.

Being a good, helpful girl, you take the bunched fabric of your dress from Steve, clutching it tightly in one hand. Your other hand fists in Steve’s hair when he tugs your panties down your legs. He pats one of your thighs and guides you to drape it over his shoulder, giving him more room to play, and he sucks a bruise onto your skin. He takes a deep breath, catching the heady scent of your sex, and he groans.

Steve spreads the lips of your pussy, getting his first taste of you when he places a soft kiss to your clit and his lips tingle. It’s a tease, but it has you sucking in a sharp breath and it’s got him reaching down to press the heel of his hand against his hard cock. He drops his head down a little lower, grinning at the little squeak you give when his nose bumps at your clit. It’s too dark to see, a shame. Teasingly, he presses his thumb against your hole and you squirm restlessly. He replaces his thumb with the flat of his tongue and he moans because you’re so sweet. Sweet and tangy.

Steve slides his tongue up, through your folds, moving right back to that bundle of nerves. It breaks your silence and you moan lowly, sound echoing in the darkness. It only spurs Steve on and he proceeds to devour you. Feasts upon your pussy, cherishing and savoring it almost the same way he used to do with those rare pieces of fruit Bucky would steal when he and Steve were poor, starving kids. His eyes roam up the wide expanse of your body, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your back arches off the car the closer you get to the edge.

Never let it be said that Steve Rogers isn’t a man of his word. You wanted to see what he’s got and he’ll fucking show you what he can do with his mouth. He eases your trembling thigh back down so you’re on steady ground, braces a forearm against your midsection, nurses at your clit, and slides two fingers inside your soaking pussy. He crooks them, searching until he presses against that ridged area.

“Steve!” You slap a hand down on the hood of your car. Your other hand is about to tear a chunk of his scalp out with the grip you’ve got on his hair. “Sweet fucking Lord.” His lips curl deviously. “Steve—oh, God bless—it’s so good. Steve, I—oh, Jesus fucking Christ!”

Steve starts rubbing furiously at that spot inside you, firm and steady pressure. He matches the pace with his tongue, circling and lapping at your clit. You scream when you reach your peak, entire body convulsing, and Steve quickly lowers his head. He moans like a whore when your come squirts into his waiting mouth. He can’t catch it all, though, and the rest soaks your thighs, the front of Steve’s shirt, and your panties. And, fuck, he’s already a mess, anyway. So, he shoves a hand down the front of his pants, takes himself in hand, and furiously strokes until he’s coming himself, coating his hand in thick, sticky white.

Steve makes sure to keep his hands on you, even as he stumbles to his feet. You’re still shaking all over, trying to catch your breath, furiously blinking the stars out of your eyes—or so his ego hopes. “I hope you know how to drive,” you whisper hoarsely. “Because you’re the only way we’re getting home now.”

“And that’s how we do it in the city,” Steve teases.

“Shut the fuck up and help me back in the car.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

You’re perched on the edge of Steve’s desk. He watches as you take small, careful sips of the moonshine. After a few minutes of rolling the product around on your tongue, you sigh dramatically and turn to look out the window at the looming Brooklyn Bridge with a pinched expression. “It still ain’t Kentucky water,” you grumble. He waits until you reluctantly add, “But it’ll do.”

A smirk plays at Steve’s lips. “Want me to remind you of how I celebrate a new partner?”

#what even are tags #my writing #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #plus size reader #steve rogers x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel reader insert

[lethbians]

#12

it’s laid down in the grass / with our old and worn-out shoes / looking at the stars / on a blanket made for two - #12: in the stars - my brothers and i


technically, you could see the stars from anywhere in derry. a small town not yet overtaken by the towering sky-rises or cloudy pollutions of the neighboring industrial plants, just about any spot was good enough to crane your neck back and see constellations from horizon to horizon in any direction. not that richie was gonna stand in front of the aladdin looking like a flipping idiot trying to see cassiopeia or hercules; he might as well slap a sign on his chest that said “henry bowers please kick the shit out of me.”

you could see the stars from anywhere in derry, but the quarry, still and calm and free of sociopaths horny for violence, was richie’s favorite.

“just be home by midnight, boys,” maggie says, smacking richie’s hand away when he scoops a finger-full of brownie batter from the side of the mixing bowl. “richie! wash your hands first!”


“yeah, yeah, back by midnight, whatever, thanks mom!” he’s so tall he has to bend down to kiss her cheek now – like he has since he was 15, shooting up past her already impressive five-foot-eight and then surpassing even his father less than a year and a half later. the tallest of the losers by an inch (with stan tailing just behind) and the gangliest by a mile (though bill’s clumsy doe movements could give richie’s elbows a run for their money), richie was always bending, slouching, cramming himself into rooms and chairs and twin-sized beds. maybe that’s why he liked the quarry so much: at least out there he didn’t have to worry about smacking and whacking and thwacking into low door-frames or shin-height coffee tables. 


(eddie had laughed so hard the day richie ran forehead-first into a support beam of the bunker that he’d fallen out of the hammock. they’d spent the rest of the evening on richie’s couch watching cartoons: richie, holding an ice pack to his head, and eddie, holding one to his wrist. karma had never felt so fucking satisfying.)

“and take the quilt from the hall closet this time instead of one of my nice ones from the living room,” she adds sternly, and richie looks away, sheepish, as he wipes the saliva from his finger across his jeans. clearly he hadn’t done as good of a job getting the dirt stains out of the expensive fleece as he’d thought.

“i got it, mrs. t,” eddie says, holding up a roll of patchwork fabric half the size of his body. richie was the tallest, and eddie was the smallest, and it’d always been that way. (except for the summer that eddie hit his growth spurt before bill and spent two months holding that half-inch of height like a goddamn trophy until bill eventually overtook him again.) richie kinda liked it though; even now, eighteen years old and set on the path to university in the fall, they both still fit in the old worn-down hammock. they didn’t fit well, but they fit, and even if they didn’t, they would’ve found a way to squeeze in. eddie and richie were always finding ways to be close, making silent excuses for the way their thighs pressed together as they played video games or pretending their hands didn’t linger with every playful smack or tickle fight. they didn’t talk about it: the other losers didn’t either.

“rich, c’mon, we’re wasting daylight.”

“that’s the point, eds, it’s star-gazing.” but rich crosses the kitchen in two easy steps, and they take the bickering that follows out the front door as maggie calls out have fun! with a knowing smile on her face.

mothers always know.

* * *

“and that one’s gumbus minoris, named after the bravest man that ever lived; slayer of blockheads and — eddie, stop laughing, this is important — slayer of blockheads and slayer of pussy—”

“oh, beep beep richie,” eddie says, but his cheeks are red from giggling and his brown eyes sparkle with mirth under the light of the moon. “gumby doesn’t have his own fucking constellation.”

“he does too! trust me,” richie sniffs, rolling over to prop himself up on his elbow and using his free hand to push his glasses up his nose. “i’m an expert.”

“on what, bullshitting?”

richie scoffs. “why, i never!” he throws his palm over his chest, twisting his voice into something whiny and high pitched and about as close to a southern belle as eddie was to out-growing richie’s horrible Voices.

(which was to say not close, not even in the slightest.)

“ah swear it eddie, on all the fiyaflies in the field and all the twists in your britches.” richie gets another burst of sweet giggles for that and a light smack to his stomach. eddie’s hand lingers for a moment, fingers skimming over the faded print of richie’s prized liger t-shirt before dropping away. eddie’s gaze is still pointed at the sky, so richie lets himself indulge in the soft curves of the boy’s profile, in the way his long eyelashes brush against the hairs of delicate eyebrows.

when they were younger, richie used to pull eddie close and give him a gentle noogie or pinch his cheeks and call him cutecutecute. shit, richie still did that, did it a lot more regularly than ‘best friends’ probably should, but lately, richie was having to bite his tongue to keep from calling eddie something else —  pretty, maybe. or beautiful. a downright knock-out, from head to toe. richie’s eyes flick to the stars. heavenly would work, too.

“i’m telling you, it’s up there! see, right…” richie leans over onto eddie’s side of the blankets — to get the sight lines right, of course — and points, tracing the outline of the green character over a configuration of stars. “right there.”

eddie tilts his head away from the sky, beaming, and when richie turns his head too their faces are close enough that richie almost goes cross-eyed. “uh-huh. is pokey up there, too, mr. expert?”

the weight of eddie’s stare sits on richie’s heart like a hot hand on his bare chest, like always, but richie’s greens are aimed down. soft brown freckles are spattered across eddie’s nose and spread ear to ear: fuzzy stars against warm skin. richie’s spent hours finding his own constellations there, and across eddie’s arms, and his back, too, when they were all laid out on the rocks drying off after a swim.

“nah,” richie says, and brings his hand down to ghost his index finger over the slant of eddie’s cheekbone. he traces… something, some shape, drawing invisible lines from one freckle to the next; suddenly he can’t remember who pokey was, let alone what he looked like. “he’s right here.”

the puffs of eddie’s breath come out uneven — richie can feel it against where his palm hovers over eddie’s mouth — and when richie finally scrounges up the courage to meet the other’s gaze, eddie’s eyes have become little more than chocolate rings around blown-out pupils.

the desire to close the gap and kiss his best friend is stupidly, ferociously, unbearably overwhelming. there is a possibility (or maybe just the heart’s whisper of hope in richie’s chest) that, with the way eddie’s eyes flit to catch the movement of richie’s tongue wetting his lower lip, eddie might want to kiss him right back.

but beneath every loud, obnoxious, look-at-me-or-i-swear-i-might-die funny kid’s facade, there is a coward. taking chances on a dirty joke, on crossing lines with Voices and bits, that was easy. taking chances on this? eddie and richie stood on a tightrope, a precipice of love and love. 

don’t ruin this, the coward screams. you can’t lose him now.

so richie grins, pokes eddie’s nose, and flops back onto the blanket with his hands behind his head. “don’t bother asking about the blockheads, though, fuck if i know where they—”

if the force of eddie’s body dropping onto his wasn’t enough to knock the wind out of richie, the feeling of lips — his best friend’s lips, eddie’s lips, eddie’s pink, pouty, perfect lips — against his own did the trick. frozen, richie stares, wide-eyed behind the frames of his glasses that’d gone lop-sided when eddie flew across the blanket at him.

kiss him back, fuckass!

he does. richie’s head thumps softly to the ground as his hands fly to curl around eddie’s jaw, tender and desperate all at once. there’s no finesse, no grace to any of it; it’s all the fierce, wild energy that always ricocheted between them focused into a single, bruising kiss. richie’s heart is hammering against his ribs so hard he’s sure it’s shaking his entire being.

eventually, eddie pulls back, though his body stays half-flung over richie’s like a tiny blanket of energy. he’s breathing hard, and even in the faint glow of moonbeams, richie knows eddie’s face is flushed. actually, his probably is too; his cheeks feel hot (and his hands, and his stomach, and everywhere else eddie’s pressed up against).

“you’re a blockhead, richie,” eddie says, but his face lights up with the biggest smile richie’s ever seen.

i love you, richie’s heart sings.

“no, you’re a blockhead,” richie’s mouth says. his brain’s a little scrambled still, swimming with thoughts of eddie eddie eddie, and his smack talk suffers as a consequence. eddie still laughs; eddie always laughed. eddie would never tell, but he thought richie was the funniest person in the world, easy. it didn’t matter the joke, and it never would. if richie was speaking, eddie was right there with him, hanging on every word that came out of his trash mouth like richie was spinning gold with his tongue.

“guess that makes us a pair.” richie smiles then too, a rush of joy, unbridled and pure, washing over him so strongly he thought he might drown in it. the moment felt infinite and ephemeral, impossible and  palpable, all at once.

“guess so.”

they don’t get home before midnight. in three weeks, richie (and the rest of the losers, too) would leave for school, while eddie would stay in derry to take classes locally. the coward inside richie screamed worries of drifting apart, permanently or not, but for tonight, it was silenced by the bravest man that ever lived.

eddie, not fucking gumby.

you could see the stars from anywhere in derry, but laying at the top of the quarry side-by-side with eddie, hands clasped between them and ankles hooked so that their dirty converse knocked together — yeah, that took the fucking crown.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #my writing #this whole song actually screams reddie #id never even thought about it #god i almost hit 2k words with this #WHEN WILL I SHUT UP #i might post this on ao3 i... #ugh okay anywyas thank u for sending this in!! #Anonymous

[tcthestarss]

meet autumn!

( MINKA KELLY, CIS-FEMALE, SHE/HER ) ⌇ have you seen AUTUMN HOLLY around icaria? they are the THIRTY-SEVEN year old child of HESTIA. they remind me of PUMPKIN SPICE HOT CHOCOLATE WITH CINNAMON, A CHILD’S LAUGHTER, AND MULTICOLOUR FALL LEAVES. They’ve been on the island for TWO WEEKS.

Autumn always knew that she was a demigod. Her mothers, Brietta Holly and Hestia, never kept that from her. And considering who her godly parent was, she has always been incredibly proud. Autumn grew up in a small community of demigods and their mortal parents near Gatlinburg in Tennessee, never having to fear of exposing herself and who/what she is. While she loved the community and especially her mother Brie, she knew that she wanted to see more of the world. And so, she left for Boston at nineteen to attend college to first get her business degree and then to attend culinary school.

At first, it was quite a culture shock for her. The then-nineteen year old initially stayed in her dorm room the first two weeks and had been a bit scared of the large city. Fortunately, Hestia had been able to talk to her and gave her courage. It wasn’t long until she was more so out of the dorm instead of in, always being in class or with her friends or at work. Autumn adapted quickly to life in New England and years later, at the age of 25, she opened up her own restaurant: Oikos Hearth, in honor of her mother. With the family consisting of comfort food, especially Southern, it soon became a huge hit in the neighborhood of Somerville. Autumn was a busy woman but gods, she was happy. And soon enough that two years later, her happiness would only grow. All thanks to a woman by the name of Scarlett Allen.

Having been in a few relationships before, the Southern belle fell hard and fast for her. She would find herself gushing about her with her mothers, truly believing that she could be the One. And when they ended up getting married three years later, it had only confirmed it even more. Every day for the past ten years, she has fallen more and more in love with the younger woman. When they finally took the next big step and adopted their son, Jackson, she knew that she had a perfect life. Married to the love of her life, an adorable child, a booming business, living in the most perfect place in the world: what more could she have wanted? Truly, nothing could ruin her happiness.

Or... so she thought. The day Scarlett left, Autumn had felt a part of her disappear. It had shattered her heart when she saw the divorce papers and that heartbreaking note. It was almost as if Scarlett Allen had been a ghost and to explain to Jackson where his mommy went... She couldn’t answer him. Those couple of months there had been a struggle mentally and emotionally. The only reason she’d been able to even get out of bed was because of her son, even though she had to constantly keep a brave face for him. But once the two year old was asleep in bed, Autumn finally allowed herself to cry and share her sorrow. Her mothers and friends were all supporting, all confused as well as to why Scarlett just left like that. And her note had only left them all even more confused.

Eventually, Hestia reminded Autumn of the island Icaria. While in Boston the past almost twenty years, she had kept her identity a secret. She’d been fortunate to find a few other demigods, but overall, no one knew. Not even Scarlett, whom she believed to have been a normal human. With them having been closed to their ten year anniversary, Autumn had been planning to tell her. She believed that it was finally time to do so and she trusted her, more than anyone. Having lost that opportunity shattered her. And so, with the promise of another community of demigods actually within Greece, Autumn Holly took the goddess’s advice. She has spent the past two weeks moving in, preparing the new location of Oikos Hearth, and even adopted three wonderful older dogs: Cinnamon, a corgi; Vanilla, an Australian Shepherd; and Pumpkin, a Saint Bernard. 

While her heart is still heavy and there are still some bad days, Autumn is looking forward to this new start with her son. It’s not easy being a newly divorcee, but as long as she has her family and is able to make some new friends, she’s sure things will eventually get better. At least, she hopes so.

#icaria: intro #{ headcanons. }