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#whom played the same instrument as me in high school (but better)

woobly · 2 years

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PLUCK MY HEARTSTRINGS. track_011 — Round Two

𓂋˚˖ PAIRING. rival band lead guitarist! sunwoo x band rhythm guitarist! fem! reader

𓂋˚˖ GENRE. social media au with some written text, rivals to lovers, band au, college au, fluff

𓂋˚˖ WC. 1.4k words

𓂋˚˖ A/N. *taps mic* ... hey 🧍🏻‍♀️

𓂋˚˖ SYNOPSIS. competing against a rapidly rising all-male band from another school at an intercollegiate music festival doesn't really sound too bad on the surface. until you see their lead guitarist—the same boy who always made sure you knew who was the better guitarist between the two of you in high school.

masterlist. previous. next.

Production staff wearing headphones and holding clipboards were jogging around backstage whilst other stage crew were busy setting up your group’s instruments. From where you were standing, you could see the event host at the edge of the stage with the spotlight shined on them, speaking enthusiastically about the previous collab performances that just finished. You could hardly see the audience, but based on how loud the cheers have been so far, you could tell that more people bought tickets this time compared to the previous round.

With how busy your surroundings were, your body couldn’t help tensing up from being a nervous wreck, your hands clasping together and aggressively massaging your fingers in hopes of relieving any nerves. You were too focused silently praying that the crew would take longer in setting up that you didn’t notice the person who decided to stand next to you.

“Hey, just relax,”

“Easy for you to say,” you turned towards Sunwoo as you crossed your arms, your hand sliding aggressively back and forth on your arm to the point that you could still feel the pressure even if you stopped.

“You’ll be fine,” he said as he faced the stage. “Trust in my teaching skills a little,”

Scoffing, you placed your hands in your pockets, silently thankful for Sunwoo’s presence.

Just as you were beginning to wonder where the rest of the team was, a bright voice appeared from Sunwoo’s side.

“Sunwoo!”

Turning to the vaguely familiar voice, you’re surprised to see an old batchmate from high school, the one and only Jang Haewon.

She wasn’t your cliche school queen bee or it girl who thought she was better than everyone else. It’s true that everyone loved her, but all for good reason anyway. Aside from the fact that no matter where you were standing, she would always look beautiful and glowing, she was always nothing but all jokes and smiles with the people around her. Even the teachers couldn’t resist pausing their walk back to the faculty room whenever she stroke up a conversation with them. She was also consistently one of the top students in your batch. She was definitely hard not to miss; you wouldn’t even be surprised if you ended up having a crush on her back then if you had the time.

“Oh my god, is this Y/N?”

“Hi, Haewon,” you waved as you tried to cover up how you were currently feeling.

“Sunwoo told me you played guitar since high school, I can’t believe I had no idea! Can’t wait to see you later, good luck!”

You muttered a small thanks before she turned to Sunwoo, whom she obviously went backstage for. Tuning out their conversation, your mind started to drift towards recalling the chords when a pair of hands land on your shoulders.

“You ready?”

You turned to the side opposite Sunwoo and Haewon and find Ryujin bouncing in excitement.

You took a deep breath in as you gave her a nervous smile. “No,”

“That’s the spirit!”

She started pushing you up the stairs that led to the stage as you laughed, trying your best to leave all the nervousness backstage as Sunwoo, Heejin, Kevin, and Hyunjae followed suit.

The host finally called your collective team name, and cheers erupted so loud you think your eardrums have popped.

Moving towards the other side of the stage, you picked up your guitar from its stand and tried to calm your breathing. Kevin, who was also on your side of the stage, noticed this and gave you a small smile and thumbs up as Sunwoo and Heejin interacted with the crowd.

Much like the last time, you tried convincing yourself that enjoying was all that mattered now, which worked for the most part. After the pretty intense first chorus, you and the others took this as time to rest a little as Sunwoo continued sing-rapping while you did a few ad libs here and there.

Thankfully, you hadn’t messed up so far, so you were actually enjoying this indescribable moment. That is, until the bridge.

Heejin and Sunwoo faced one another as much as their standing microphones allowed them, singing as if they were talking to each other. They were definitely doing a great job at building up tension because you thought you were about to lose your mind as it went blank.

The large hall quiets down and the lights go dark, the only one left being on you. You could hardly see Sunwoo turned back towards you in your peripheral vision, let alone the audience in front of you.

Taking a deep breath, you pretend as if you were the only one in the hall, letting your muscle memory take over as you put your soul into your 15-second solo.

Before you know it, the lights were back on and everyone was screaming and singing along to the final chorus, where you could finally breathe and look around the stage with a huge smile on your face.

With only a few seconds left, you moved forward to stand beside Sunwoo for your last riff and his last solo. Euphoria was literally radiating off everyone onstage, but most especially you and Sunwoo as you both couldn’t help trying to one up each other as if you were merely playing around in the practice room.

You didn’t even realize the song was over until the crowd started roaring. Soaking in the moment, you gaze upon them before turning towards Sunwoo who was already looking towards you with a smile still stuck to his face.

Raising his hand up, you gave him a high five and kept your hands up clasped together as you jumped in excitement and satisfaction while he giggled at how happy you looked. Rushing to put down your guitar, you ran to Ryujin and hugged her before wishing her luck for the next song. On the way to exit the stage, you patted Sunwoo’s back as your way of saying he did well and good luck while he kept talking to the audience. He wanted to tell you how proud he was, but he was also participating in the next song, hindering him from doing so.

As you walked down the stairs with Heejin, Hyunjae, and Kevin, you briefly chatted with the next set of members who were about to perform before letting them go to prepare. Still relishing in the post-performance adrenaline, you held and shook Heejin’s hands as you squealed in happiness together. The other boys resting with you only laughed at your antics, completely understanding the feeling.

The next song began playing, and all you could do was enjoy and sing along.

Nearing the end of the song, your nerves crept up your back once again, but you tried your best to suppress them as you moved toward the stage again where Sunwoo and a few others were coming down from. He threw you a thumbs up since he once again didn’t have the time to talk to you, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to pretend to be annoyed.

You were nervous, as you always were, but your excitement for the next and final collab stage definitely outweighed that. With one final deep breath, you let go of everything holding you back and let the moment take over.

Once all your collab stages were finally over, you and the rest of the members left the stage to meet with the others, all of you erupting in chaotic ‘congratulations’ and ‘you did wells’.

After handing a piece of confetti to Isa, which she asked from you before you left for the last song since she always did so after every performance, you looked around in search of Sunwoo, who seemed to be the only one missing from the group—not that you were looking for him.

After a while, you finally see him a few feet away, in the middle of a hug with Haewon. When they pulled away from each other, you noticed how he was looking at her like a married old man and chuckled to yourself. Even from far away, he was so obvious there’s no way Haewon hasn’t noticed it.

Yet, it stung a little. Definitely because you haven’t had anyone look at you like that and not because it’s Sunwoo. Yeah, that sounds about right.

“Let’s go out for dinner!” Sangyeon suddenly announced.

“Our treat!” Seunghee butted in. You chuckled as you wondered where they possibly have the money to pay for all 13 people, but cheered along with the others anyway.

masterlist. previous. next.

𓂋˚˖ A/N. i'm so sorry this is so overdue 😭😭 since the last update, i finally started college and it's been kicking my ass </3 i'll be having break starting tmrw tho so ... (i won't say anything bc i alw end up not following thru are eye pee) anyways.. suny/n when

𓂋˚˖ TAGLIST. @wooyoung-a @nyujjan @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @ja4hyvn @ahnneyong @noempathyy @2hyunjae @sunwoahkim @sunnysunuu @feireads @igotkpoops @ilovechanhee @baehaechannie @mochibabycakes @ilvaussie @justsayk @hihellosunwoo @beomsun @aurumness @pengbi @meowtella @ily-cuz-i @kiyokoism @erodemyedges @kswr1d @neoguriku @hwasatiny @woosunnie [open, dm/send an ask to join!] — bold cannot be tagged

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old-lorarri · 8 months

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─ paper rings . . . ❨ send me a description of yourself + a fandom and gender preference, and i’ll ship you with a character. ❩

i couldn't miss out a good time! i had this previously done but it would be interesting to know who i'd match with! i copy pasted but i added some more that might help impact the results. expect me to come around for another if i may? maybe the next day or next week.

fandom: formula one

info abt me: female & prefers men!

my big three is: leo-gemini-pisces!

i am quite an adaptable individual, love sunsets, stargazing, animals and pets & divination or anything related to spirituality.

not quite fond of social media but i really love interacting with people whom i share interests with here in tumblr! lately, i am really trying to build friendships amongst f1 writers and even readers too.

i heavily value my private life and prefer not to tell people about my personal next step in life (preferring not to share private information unless i feel comfortable) and i don't post much in my social media accounts but i have an instagram solely for posting my well curated portraits with poems as captions.

i also love psychology, deep talks about life or anything very reflective, tell me a situation that had been bothering you and i will make you reflect and tell about yourself. (this scares some people because they always say i could read them like an open book)

having a lot of hobbies and interests (i couldn't stay still between one thing [e.g. i could love making music this week, next week i'd be into arts]). right now i am into writing fics and serving the people some entertainment lmao but i have to stop because for some reason my reach is not reaching idk what to do to alleviate that. i have a keen eye for detail and quite a perfectionist — selective even.

i have a small circle of friends in real life. they are the ones who i can trust my life with. i do believe that quality is better than quantity. but building new connections helps me discover about people more and reflect about life.

my talents are diverse mainly because in my country being an all out performer is a thing. schools were literally built here for you to show and perform like beyoncé or sorts to earn grades. singing while playing an instrument, dancing, acting, writing, you name it i could give it a go. i am a theater kid so i think it impacted developing these talents, they're very enjoyable regardless. 100% not picky with music either, music kind of reflects a person's soul. roadtrips are nice and they're quality time. that's how you also know which friend of yours is only there for clout and the ones who are there because they look forward to a journey of sharing the same space with another.

clubbing is not my thing. i am not fond of smoking or drinking alcohol. I AM HEAVILY TURNED OFF BY VICES but i don't mind an occasional wine for formal events. if you put me inside a club, expect me to sit down on a corner and watch everyone. i tend to attract men easily (i am not bragging but it's hard rlly) and i do believe clubs are not the best place to attract guys sorry •́⁠ ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠,⁠•̀ if you'd invite me to a party, we can have picnics or a dinner at your home or somewhere. i couldn't handle clubs, 100% would dip if someone say clubs or bars. they're too overwhelming.

i was raised in a quite conservative household so i preferably wear clothing that do not show much skin. i love statement outfits and prefer to make my own clothes or customize clothes rather than buying high-end branded clothing. my wardrobe is quite diverse, i can have masculine and feminine outfits. styles from fairycore, 50s, 80s, 90s wear, autumn wear, formal wear and officewear. i have gowns too! at this point i can build a boutique and often get teased about it by people in my circle💀 i grew up with relatives who doesn't smoke and only drink on occasion.

my love language (receiving) is acts of service and receiving gifts. my love language (giving) is acts of service and quality time / words of affirmation. i love solving people's problems and give them cheat codes in life hahahaha

idk if this would help but i have a stale lovelife, if i happen to put myself out there there there will always be a lot of guys wanting to pursue me ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ i pull away immediately if this starts to happen because it drains me so much. i would then focus into my career and go into hermit mode again, the one who stays in my life and wait for me to regain my energy is what i think, is meant for me. tbh, i need someone who is patient and understanding towards me or it's going to be disaster lmfao ฅ[⁠ᓀ´⁠ ▾ `⁠ᓂ⁠]ฅ

LEWIS HAMILTON

very private person, both of you like to keep it that way especially when it comes to you relationship

both of you have very deep conversations about life each other certain topics and just life in general

you both love to reflect on stuff and help each other get stuff of your chest

you tend to do this while you cuddling with chill music in the background

lewis supports you though all of your different hobbie phases

love that your so open to trying new things

you both have a tight inner circle and you both value quality over quantity

the two of you def recorded a song together

you both hold fashion shows for each other after a massive shop

both of your love languages are is acts of serves

which sometimes turns into a funny competition of who can out do the other

is always patient and understanding when it comes to you

#꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ 3k celly ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱

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im-madam-baby · 1 year

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❝ 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞❞

In this first post, I would like to introduce myself and share some of my personal background. I believe that getting to know someone's story can help build a better understanding and connection between people. So, here's a little bit about me.

Hello, I'm Heidi. My first name is supposed to be spelled with a 'y' as Heidy, but for safety reasons, I prefer to use Heidi and not include my full name. I am from Indonesia.

I was born in Dili, Timor Leste on June 30, 1998. Although I was born there, there were riots in Timor Leste at the time, so my late maternal grandmother took me to a safe place when I was a baby. My parents followed not long after, and the rest was a journey of moving from one city in Indonesia to another, which happened about four times.

Now try to keep up with me haha.

The first city I lived in after birth was Manokwari, West Papua, where I spent four years (1999-2003) while attending preschool. As a toddler, I don't recall much except for playing with my stuffed doll. I then relocated to Denpasar, Bali, where I lived for almost two years (2003-2005), including attending school from kindergarten through the end of first grade. During my time there, I studied and competed in an abacus competition, although I only remember receiving a number three sticker once and am unsure of its significance.

I also have a bit of a mystical story here about when I was a child when I was living in Bali, but this will be told at another time. For a spooky and horror story time.

Moving on, the second longest city I've lived in is Manado, North Sulawesi, where I spent eight years (2005-2013). As a result, the language spoken in my home is a mix of Manadonese and basic Indonesian, which is still used today. I attended school here from the second grade of primary school until the end of middle school.

When I first started middle school, I was placed in the top class for outstanding students, but for some reason, after seventh grade, the class was removed. Nonetheless, I finished in third place out of the top ten in my eighth-grade class.

I must admit that I'm not someone who talks much to my friends here; almost all of them think I'm mute. I was even verbally bullied; the boys didn't even want to approach me and always mocked me for not being able to speak. There was also a girl who used to make fun of me by saying I was mute until I threw an empty water bottle at her in anger. Basically, they thought I was a freak.

In reality, I only talked frequently with certain people. I was lucky to have five good friends with whom I could hang out. We even thought about forming a music band, but it never materialized because we weren't all good at playing our instruments, haha. I also hung out at my friends' houses, both inside and outside of my circle.

Despite the good times, it often felt like living in hell because others weren't as respectful. However, I now understand that we were all just kids back then, and people's attitudes, behaviors, and personalities inevitably change over time. While I never felt particularly close to them, I believe that people can and do change. Nevertheless, I have no desire to meet them, but I simply wish them a healthy and happy life.

Moving on, the city that I have been living in until now is Balikpapan, located in East Kalimantan, for the past nine years (2013-present). I attended high school here until I graduated, and then moved to Jakarta to pursue my bachelor's degree. However, whenever I had the opportunity to take a vacation for a couple of weeks, I flew back and forth on a plane to spend time at home. The following year, my sister joined me at the same university, so I occasionally flew back and forth with her.

I have many stories while studying offline at my university, but they will also be told at another time.

Mainly at my university, I became a class leader twice for two semesters. During my first year, I met four of my best friends, and together we formed a group called FHAIF, which is named after the five of us. I also have an amazing and thoughtful roommate, as well as another amazing, loud, and kind roommate. Additionally, I have a male best friend who is half-Thai and half-Indonesian, and several other friends whom I cannot describe individually due to the length of this introduction.

Furthermore, I befriended almost everyone in my field of study. I don't mean to brag, but it's true that our group, including myself, was well-known throughout the university among seniors and juniors alike. We were probably one of the most popular groups on campus.

My social environment underwent significant changes during my university years. I took part in various events and organizations, gaining valuable experience and making numerous new connections.

I also have some interesting crush stories to share, but that will have to wait for another time haha.

Anyway, returning to the subject of when I started living in Balikpapan, I won't deny that I had a bit of a culture shock moment at first. I struggled with learning the local language and adjusting to a new environment. I would observe the people around me, listen to how they spoke, and gradually adapt to my surroundings.

Eventually, I was able to make friends with a few people and gradually broaden my connections. People my age in this city are different from my friends in middle school in the previous city; they are friendlier and more respectful.

Although I didn't join any organization here, I've gained quite a bit of experience in making friends. As usual, I always hang out at my friends' houses whenever I am invited or permitted to do so. However, my parents refused to allow me to spend the night at a friend's house because it would be inconvenient for the hosts.

There was another time when I went to a funeral for one of my classmates, and everyone came to mourn and see the coffin being buried. However, I did not witness the burial because some Indonesians believe in superstitions that must be done before and after visiting the grave, and it takes quite a few things to do. So, I just stayed in my friend's car, waiting for the funeral burial to end with the rest of my friends.

Oh, and there was also another where I once skipped a class in high school, jumped the fence, and joined one of my classmates in her car with one of my friends, we were going somewhere I don't remember much about it now. Don't worry, this happened only once, or perhaps not.

I also remembered skipping some classes because I was sick with GERD. I called my mom and told her about it; I remember crying because of the pain. She became so concerned and rushed over to the school to pick me up.

The pain was so severe that I had to be lifted on a stretcher in the middle of a class. I couldn't walk or breathe and had to crouch on my desk while holding my stomach. It was even painful to move my left foot due to the pain in my lower abdomen.

Afterward, on the stretcher, I just covered my face because I was embarrassed to be seen like that by so many people along the way to the car.

But overall, those were all good times haha.

Anyhow, by the time you read this paragraph, I will already be 24 years old in 2022. I have two siblings who can be chaotic at times, and two loving parents. I'm the oldest of three children, with one sister and one brother. My 23-year-old sister is only a year and four months younger than me (born in 1999). While my younger brother, who is five years younger than me, is now 19 years old (born in 2003). The three of us are currently studying at our respective universities.

At home, according to my siblings, I am an angry and noisy person. I'm always angry at them and like to act like a child. As a result, my sister has saved me as "Madam Baby" in her phone contacts, and my brother has saved me as "Assistant" or "household assistant" (cry). It's because whenever I clean the house with my bare face, he says I look like one and teases me about it ...

They can be annoying at times, as we tend to make a big deal out of trivial matters.

We also enjoy playing around and making stupid jokes about each other, as well as sharing our struggles and supporting each other. However, we rarely say "I love you" to each other because, well, who admits that to their siblings? Certainly not us.

But we do know that we love each other, just as we show our love to our parents in our own unique ways without directly saying it.

Despite all the ups and downs that I cannot mention in detail in this introduction, but perhaps in the near future, these experiences have taught me valuable lessons and given me a unique perspective on life. I believe that they have made me stronger and more resilient. I look forward to sharing more about myself and connecting with others who may have had similar experiences. Thank you for taking the time to read my introduction. That's enough about me. These events have shaped me into who I am today, and I'm happy to welcome you into my personal space ♥

#introduction #about me #introductory post #introducing myself #introducing me #story time #true story #original story #storytelling #life story #growing up #events #long story lol #long story short #story telling

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inner--islands · 5 months

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Interview with Sawyer G. (December 2023)

Back in September we shared Sawyer Gebauer's first release as Sawyer G., It'll Be Gone For A Little While, which is also his first foray into instrumental music. Here we get to dive deeper into his evolving practice.

1. What are some recent inspirations?

Lately, there's been a lot of experimental, ambient, techno, house, breakbeat, and glitch. The Berlin-based projects Nthng and S.W. stand out for their grasp of techno/house historical roots while weaving their uniqueness into the fabric of the genre. Nosaj Thing's album Continua (2022) has been my companion for the past month.

In literature, I recently completed the knighted historian Keith Thomas's work, Religion and the Decline of Magic (1971). This 800-page tome explores 16th/17th century England, offering a detailed account of the ebb and flow, as well as the reciprocal relationship between Christianity and the occult, much of which happened during the Interregnum period. My next instrumental album will play off of these themes, each song titled inspired by superstitious methods used during these periods to keep evil spirits away.

Visually, Paleochristian and Middle Age art and architecture have been fun to dive into further this year. The implementation of abstract form in exchange for naturalistic representation to pursue the divine is fascinating. Not to mention the symbolism in the storytelling that creates a mysterious aura. I’ve noticed there's been increased references to, and acceptance of, this period of art in contemporary culture. I wonder if it has anything to do with our own self-abstraction in search of a new space, a virtual space. A quest for transcendence to reach a higher plane through technology and our drive to escape the earthly realm for a brighter, more powerful, and convenient world.

2. As someone who has worked so much in the realm of song-based music (lyrics, melodies, etc.), do you feel that instrumental music allows you to express things that you can’t in the song format?

Yes. It was freeing to break from word and structure. I made my most impactful and genuine work because of this freedom. My whole creative life led up to those moments making this album, and I found a piece of myself that was present, yet dormant. Now, I feel the experimental and the song-based format have been merging in really exciting and interesting ways.

3. Do you prefer to refine a composition over a period of time or capture something quickly and move on?

It’s circumstantial. If there's flow between me and the song, and the space is right, I can work on a song for two weeks straight, 40 hours a week. However, if I step away from it too long, I find it difficult to return to the same creative realm that space once provided. At that point, I chalk it up as another step closer to the song that needs to be created later. Not everything I put time into needs to be a released product, or even a finished one. To be discerning and letting things go can make the future work better.

4. How do you like to get perspective on your work?

I have those whom I trust that will give constructive words to make the work better. I’ve been releasing music since I was 18, almost 15 years. Something I’ve realized is that as you get older and more invested in your passion, the need for praise to build confidence is no longer sought after. Instead, you want to know how the work can get better, and how much deeper you can go. Trusted external sources can help get you where you want to be, rather than getting lost in the false direction of expectation. If you're doing it right, you are making it for yourself and the ones around you.

5. When did you first start releasing music? And how has your relationship to the releasing process changed since then?

I was in high school when I released my first album O Lost!, inspired by Thomas Wolfe’s novel Look Homeward, Angel. When I graduated, I moved to Stockholm and signed to a now dissolved label run by an ex-pat from Canada. This was 2010, before Spotify was the gate keeper of music consumption that resulted in listeners becoming further passive in how they discover music, relying on playlist automation. Indie fans still found their music through blogs and Soundcloud. That’s not so much the case anymore. Through the convenience of technology that brings with it affordability, a lot of our art consumption is severed from connection or relationship. Like fast fashion, fast design, fast food, there is fast art. Easy come, easy go. Little is left with a lasting impact or impression. That seems to me like one of the biggest changes releasing music in the past 10 years or so.

6. How much of a role does improvisation play in the tracks that make up It’ll Be Gone For A Little While?

There's a good balance between composition and improvisation in It’ll Be Gone for A Little While. I try not to force things. I rarely have an idea of what I want to do with a song when beginning. Instead, I listen and feel where the song wants to go. This flow has worked well for me. I find that if I have too much of an intention or idea of what I want to do, there is friction, and it comes out feeling stiff and soulless. I've found that those initially intended ideas come out naturally when they need to.

7. Are there any particular pieces of visual art that inspired the tracks on the album?

Love that question. At the time, Lee Ufan, Pat Steir, Barnett Newman, Isamu Noguchi, Joan Miro. You can hear this in the album - Moments of minimalism and maximalism. At times it can be disturbing, peaceful, or contradictory, like tranquil chaos.

8. You’ve mentioned fragmentation being an important aspect of this new work. How does it factor in for you?

To come full circle from the second question. I was in the realm of creating in structured form most of my life. It's important to have a firm grasp on structure and tradition to break it down in interesting, provocative, and productive ways while acknowledging the importance of the past. Studying jazz, which then took me into realms of experimentalism and ambient, was imperative toward intentionally breaking down these forms.

9. Do you feel like working on this instrumental project has influenced your approach to Catch Prichard and your song-oriented music?

Absolutely. I have incorporated elements from both fields. Sampling, granular synthesis, ambient and experimental sonic space. It has come to a degree that, when beginning a piece, I don’t know whether it will be a Catch Prichard track or a Sawyer G. song. The expression to be able to weave in and out, but also fuse together these themes, has been incredibly enlightening. I'm excited to see where it goes.

10. Words of wisdom you like to recall in times of need?

Creatively, do you. Trust your intuition. Let your work guide you where it needs to go, it only needs your help to bring it to its full potential.

#dialogue

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daveinediting · 10 months

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youtube

A coupla nights ago I set YouTube to play some random music for me. Since YouTube knows me so well, inevitably it began serving up songs by The Beatles. And more songs by The Beatles. And then more songs by The Beatles. Of course I didn't intervene because yeah. I'm a Beatles fan.

Inevitably, YouTube arrived at the David Frost show presentation of Hey Jude. And the funny thing is—because this never happened before—is that I was suddenly reminded of Linzy's high school graduation.

Huh?

Not kidding. Linzy's high school graduation during which the school's band, The Wildcat Band, performed an instrumental version of Hey Jude that was specifically requested by the school's administration because they'd seen the band perform it at the Spring Concert.

Don't get me wrong, Hey Jude represents a pinnacle of songwriting. The Wildcat Band, however, found a different way to embody its spirit by performing a tenor sax solo over the full orchestra.

David Kim, by the way, is the young man on the sax. You can see my daughter, Linzy, in red cap and gown on acoustic guitar behind David to the left.

David, of course, pulls off a very sweet performance of Hey Jude's verses. I'm not sure how well the graduating seniors knew the lyrics. For sure their parents did. And if those parents weren't actively singing those lyrics, those lyrics were definitely singing in their heads.

It wasn't until the transition, though. You know the one. Where McCartney sings "and make it better, better, better, better, better, better... aahhhhhh" as his voice scales up, rising to the song's iconic crescendo. Well, David Kim on his tenor sax managed that same powerful crescendo landing, however, a half step below where we all knew he was going. And in that moment, a moment already filled with the full force of David's performance, he slides the note, with even more power, into place.

In the room, taking this in myself, it was as if a button had been pressed, a key turned. Something... that unlocked the audience.

Something that launched it because.

Because as that one note slid thrillingly into the next...

The crowd lost it.

Lost it?

Yeah. The graduating class seated in the middle. Their parents, siblings, family, friends sitting in the bleachers. Members of the administration sitting on stage. Even the band itself.

Unglued.

Exploded.

Jumped to their feet.

It was this wild energy, this shared emotion in that moment inhabiting the entire arena with one note informed by all the notes before it, serving as the electrifying connection literally inhabiting each of us with the same emotional experience.

I won't lie. It's a helluva thing.

Okay.

Maybe a year and a half before that electrifying moment at graduation, I twisted my daughter's arm sufficiently so that she took the stage during a talent show and fronted a rock band. During which she experienced the dance that occurs between musicians and audience.

The dance?

Yeah. Moves and countermoves. Actions and reactions. Calls and responses.

Whip out one part of the equation, the other will come calling. Lean your guitar solo into the audience and spirit fingers will always appear right in front of the guitar strings and the guitarist's hand. Sustain a moment of vocal or instrumental passion... and the energy in the room blows up. And.

Ask the crowd to do something...

They do it.

It's a truth about performing arts you can count on. Certainly it's a truth about concert gigs that The Little Lies (for whom Linzy performs keys, acoustic guitar, and Christine McVie vocals) take advantage every opportunity they can.

Every time.

It's simply this thing music and musicians can do.

And in the last few days, a human super power of which I'm being reminded.

🤯

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franticstudio-nyc · 2 years

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Steve Martin, Chet Baker and David Hockney

Recently watching Only Murders in the Building, my appreciation for Steve Martin was reawakened. Thanks to the internet I was able to watch him in old clips on Johnny Cash, The Tonight Show and especially the Ray Stevens Show. It was fun to glimpse the infancy of the genius that would rocket him to stardom in the 70’s. Being a teenager in the seventies, “Excuse Me” was comfortably ensconced in my contributions to the high school lunch room conversation. Not a huge fan of his movies over all (a little too silly), though, I particularly liked a few — Parenthood and L.A. Story, in particular. With my curiosity piqued, I read Born Standing Up, Steve Marin’s autobiography and discovered he was an L.A. story. Growing up in Garden Grove, California he spent his youth performing magic in a Disneyland Magic Shop and then on to a small theatre at Knotts Berry Farm. After years of struggle, audiences who didn’t get him, rejection by Johnny Carson and dire financial difficulties, the act he eventually became famous for, I found out, was a finely tuned, precisely timed piece of performance art. It all seemed so casual and spontaneous to me as a casual 16 year old observer, like there had been no preparation at all. But this anti-comedy, no punch line strategy was conceived with the understanding of Tension Release Theory. This is Freud’s (and others’) view that humor is derived from a release of pent up energy. Steve Martin’s idea was “What if there was no punchline to release the tension ?” This really impressed me, especially because I am an East Coast snob and I am confident that all great thinking and art comes from our side of the country.

Let’s Get Lost Movie Poster

But recently I have been rethinking my snobbery, especially when I saw Bruce Weber’s Let’s Get Lost documentary about jazz trumpeter Chet Baker. In the movie, Baker is described to be as much a product of California as the Beach Boys later would become. “A lot of people were obsessed with Chet,” says one old friend. “He was bad, he was trouble, he was beautiful,” observes one of his many ex-wives early in the film. We can’t over estimate Baker’s cultural influence during the rise of James Dean and Marlon Brando type anti-heroes in America during the fifties. Chet Baker was also supremely gifted and maybe a genius as well. Living in Glendale, California, his mother said that he had begun to memorize tunes on the radio before he was given an instrument. At 11 years old, after “falling in love” with the trumpet, he improved noticeably in two weeks. Peers called Baker a natural musician to whom playing came effortlessly. By 21 years old he had played with Stan Getz and was in Charlie Parker’s band. As an east coaster I fell for the fable that cool jazz artist couldn’t handle the hard swing of bebop, they couldn’t keep up, they just couldn’t play as fast and as hard. But ultimately, to the west coast jazz musician, it wasn’t so much about the amount; but the quality of each note. It’s not that they couldn’t play as fast…they just didn’t want to; they had all the time in the world. It was a state of mind. Like Steve Martin, they had the space to think differently. Which brings me to David Hockney.

Bigger Splash by David Hockney

When considering California artists, David Hockney came up immediately. The acrylic paintings he did in the 60s like “Bigger Splash” went on to to define LA for decades. But I really became a Hockney fan after seeing his documentary “Secret Knowledge” about renaissance artists using lenses and mirrors to create their masterpieces. You immediately notice Hockney thinks and sees the world differently. But alas, David Hockney is not from California but from Britain, though, when he does arrive, it opens something up in him, in the same way the world opens up for Steve Martin and Chet Baker. When Hockney came to LA in the early 1960’s, he goes on to describes the experience as “…when I went to Los Angles… It was… really 3 times better than I thought it would be.” L.A. was his bigger splash and unlike his New York contemporaries Warhol and Liechtenstein, Hockney didn’t wear the mundane around his neck like a burdensome yoke but a colorful scarf to be celebrated.

I’m looking forward to the second season of Only Murders in the Building, it’s inspiring to see Steve Martin creating fresh, relevant work. The truth is, I‘m native of the Golden State, though I grew up in Chicago and now live in New York, but I don’t give my inner Californian much room these days. Today I think I will take a trip up the Pacific Coast highway.

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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 3 years

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When Clary meets Ash (Fan Fic)

Hey :) this is how I imagine Clary and Ash's reunion (after the events of TDA) in the fic I am currently writing.

It's Chapter 5 of "The new Shadowhunter Academy" (Ao3 link to the full fic is here but don't click or skip Chapter 4 if you are not in for Kitty sexy times).

Thanks to @amchara for providing beta work and to @blaidr for letting me bounce my ideas off him.

To give you context, Ash met Dru in Faerie and they exchanged their numbers. Clary seized the opportunity to obtain Ash's number from Dru and write him the following text message:

“Hey, Ash. Dru gave me your number and please don’t be angry with her, I am very strong headed and there was absolutely no way she could have refused. I am Clary. You may have heard of me. I am your late father’s sister. That’s right, your aunt. You can call me whatever you like. Emma told me what you did in Thule, how you saved her. How you saved everyone. That was very brave of you. In a way, both of us were faced with a very difficult choice and made the same. Doing what we thought was right. I would love to meet you and tell you about my mother – your grandmother – or just talk about anything. It can be things totally unrelated to the Shadow world. Hobbies, movies, books and games we like. You can pick the time and place. Neutral territory. Hope to see you soon. Clary.”

This is what happens following the text:

*****

Clary wrapped her oversized woolen coat tighter around herself, as she made her way through the crowded streets of Manhattan. The route was familiar. She took it almost every week to meet up with her parabatai and have what they called their “mundane hour”. They talked about everything, from Clary’s art to the latest TV shows they had binge watched. No topic was off the table, save for anything related to Shadowhunter duties, and the Shadow world in general. As co-head of the New York Institute and since recently, artist owning her own gallery, her weeks were very busy so she looked forward to those rare and precious moments when she could escape with Simon. Her heart rate seemed to accelerate with each of her steps, and it didn’t help that she also had the strange feeling she was being observed. When she reached her destination, she took a deep breath and opened the double glass doors leading her inside the coffee shop. She and Simon had their regular routine there, and her gaze went automatically to their usual spot, near the large windows.

A broad-shouldered jock with a baseball jacket was already sitting there, speaking loudly to his cheerleader girlfriend. Two of his friends were standing next to him, mock punching his muscular arms. It made her realize that Ash probably never had this. High school friends and romance. Ash. She was still struggling to figure out why he had asked her to meet up at this place, at the exact time she usually got there with Simon. Was it him being considerate, a clumsy way to make her feel comfortable in familiar surroundings? Or was it a warning? I know your habits, and precisely where you take your coffee, when and with whom.

Her gaze swept over the crowded room - her heart seemed to have moved up her throat, the frantic pulse almost choking her - and zeroed on a tall, white blond haired boy ordering coffee at the counter, standing with his back to Clary. She sucked in a breath. Ash. He was fully clothed in black - Dru had told her that was his usual style - and huge headphones were covering his ears. She slowly and cautiously approached him and when she was close enough, put a tentative hand on his elbow. “Ash,” she whispered. The boy glanced over his shoulder, his blue eyes quizzical and… it was not Ash.

She mumbled an apology.

“Clary,” said a voice coming from behind, and she froze. It was not a boy’s but a man’s voice, the sound beautiful and ethereal. She just stood there for a few seconds before she slowly turned.

What had she expected? Merely a taller version of the young boy with pointy ears and a sour expression that she had met three years before, dressed in the same refined velvet clothing threaded with gold that identified him as fey royalty?

If so, she had clearly been mistaken.

She blinked a few times to make sure her mind wasn’t playing tricks. He was tall, as she had anticipated (Sebastian had been after all). At least two heads taller than her and probably taller than Jace. But he was also very different from the Ash of her memories, from the sketches she had drawn of him after they had crossed paths. He had amazingly grown into his features, his face now the best combination of the Seelie Queen and Sebastian’s. As if he had picked the most alluring colours of the palette. And the result was… Stunning. Clary’s hand twitched, aching for a pencil.

He was not dressed in black, but in plain blue jeans and he had stuffed his hands in a very elegant, long pale gray cashmere coat. His white blond hair and pointy ears were concealed under a deep green beanie, the same colour as the scarf around his neck.

He arched a silvery eyebrow at Clary, his expression bemused, and she realized she was staring.

“Clary, seriously?” he said, his gently scolding tone at odds with his enchanting voice. “This guy isn't even half as good looking as me." He glanced pointedly at the patron in question, who was gaping at him, and shrugged. "No offense, dude,” Ash added as an afterthought.

He turned his attention to the barista. She was beautiful, dark skinned with long braided hair and pouty lips. “Hello, gorgeous. We’ll have a double espresso with oat milk and a dash of cinnamon for the lady and a plain black coffee for me.”

Clary stifled a gasp and tried to hide her discomfort. He knew exactly how she took her coffee, and she didn’t know how she felt about this.

The pretty barista nodded eagerly, her cheeks red and her big dark eyes dreamy as she stared at Ash. “Why don’t you… Go sit at your table and I’ll bring you your beverages when they are ready?” the girl offered enthusiastically. The long line of patrons that had formed behind Clary and Ash would probably disagree but she didn’t seem to care.

“That would be lovely,” Ash said in his euphonious voice. “And so are you.” He winked at her, and Clary wondered if she would need to catch her while she swooned. He paid before Clary even had a chance to reach for her purse.

“Come,” he said in a commanding tone, as he made his way to Clary and Simon's usual table. This was unnerving.

The jock seated there paused in the middle of his conversation with his girlfriend when he saw Ash stand casually next to him. Clary braced herself for a heated exchange, but she should have known better.

“You want to sit somewhere else,” Ash said evenly, one hand inside the pocket of his designer coat and the other stretched out in front of him as he studied his fingernails.

“I want to sit somewhere else,” the jock repeated in a monotonous voice, his gaze blank. He stood, as if in a trance, and his girlfriend and friends followed him, puzzled, to an empty table at the far end of the room.

Ash drew a chair for Clary and she sat. He did the same, opposite her. He pulled off his beanie, and shook his silvery hair, like a crown of liquid white gold. He wasn’t dressed for the part but he had never looked more like a prince.

“Ash… please don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Your mind tricks.”

He cocked his head and observed her, his face unreadable, for what seemed like an endless minute.

“You’ve been my aunt for what? Five minutes? And you’re already trying to boss me around?”

“I am not trying to boss you around, Ash. Simply asking you not to abuse your powers.”

A shadow flickered across his green eyes.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Clary. I spend much more time and energy holding back than using my powers. If I did let go, trust me, you would know.”

Clary opened her mouth to reply but was cut short as the barista popped in front of them and placed the mugs on the table. She slid a paper napkin to Ash, her phone number scribbled on it. Clary tried not to roll her eyes, as Ash flashed his dazzling smile at the girl, who almost tripped on her own feet as she returned to the counter.

Clary lifted her cup to her lips and paused, as she caught sight of the cinnamon powder floating on the surface. She put it down.

“What about this?" She pointed at her coffee mug and waved around them. “ What is it, if not a show of power? What are you trying to tell me? That you know everything about me? That you’ve been spying on me?”

Ash pulled on a fake shocked expression, mouth open and green eyes wide in mock innocence. “Spying on you? What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Ash. The evidence is right here.” She lifted her cup abruptly, and hot liquid splashed out of it. “You know exactly how I like it. When I take it, where I take it.”

Ash’s mouth twitched. “Where did you pick up these lines? From the script of some lame X-rated movie?”

“Adult movies have storylines?” Clary asked, arching her eyebrows.

“Of course they do. Where do you think the Grimm Brothers took their inspiration from?”

He grabbed the paper napkin and started mopping the coffee she had spilled on the table. The blue ink faded and the barista’s phone number vanished.

“You lost that girl’s number,” Clary noted.

Ash shrugged. “I have a girlfriend now.”

Right. Drusilla Blackthorn. From the moment she had met her, Clary had known that the smart and quiet turquoise-eyed girl would someday turn heads.

Clary knew that Dru hadn’t really confirmed their relationship status yet, but it was neither the time nor place to broach the subject with Ash. She was, after all, on a mission to win over her nephew and had not been doing a very good job so far.

A young lanky boy with pink hair and piercings covering his skin walked by and dropped a glossy flyer of the upcoming Mortal Instruments concert on the table between them. Clary hid a smile. It reminded her...

“I have something for you.” She said as she fumbled inside her bag and took out the drawing she had made of Jocelyn, Luke and herself, in front of Luke’s upstate farm (before it was turned into the new Shadowhunter Academy) and laid it on the table.

Ash looked at it hesitantly, like a kid who really wanted to grab the candy but was afraid there was a mouse trap under it. He hunched his shoulders forward and clasped his hands under the table, as if to keep himself from temptation.

“I recognize your art. I like it. I also appreciate Julian Blackthorn’s but I may not be as objective where… one of the subjects of his drawings is concerned.”

“You’ve seen my art?”

He leaned back on his chair, crossing his long arms behind his head. Somehow, he managed to make it look graceful.

“Which Shadowhunter hasn’t? I noticed that you often drew Jace with angel wings.”

“Yes. That’s how he used to appear to me. In recurring dreams.”

“Was it?”

“Was it what?”

“Jace. In your dreams.”

“Who else would it be?”

“Someone who looks like him, but who actually has wings.”

“You mean Kit.”

Ash shrugged. “It would make more sense.” His gaze flickered back to the drawing, which still lay on the table, untouched. “You look a lot like your mom.”

“So do you”, Clary blurted before she could take it back.

Ash shot her an unfathomable look.

“How is she?” She asked.

“You mean, the Seelie Queen? You tell me. You must see her more often than I do.”

“Well, not really. I am not that involved in politics, even though Alec is Consul. Julian Blackthorn is the one who deals with her most of the time. She appears to have... a fondness for him.”

“Who doesn’t?”

Clary’s mouth quirked up.

“I am glad you are getting along with the Blackthorns. They are such an incredibly strong and talented family.”

“They are.” He turned his face away, but not before she could see the expression of longing plain on his delicate features.

She swallowed. She was painfully reminded that Ash never had a shot at a happy family. Born of a political union, and dragged here and there, though interdimensional portals, by people more interested in his powers than anything else he had to offer as a person. And judging by how Dru talked about Ash, he had a lot to offer.

“I imagine it must have been awful living in Thule… But what you did for Emma and Julian back there... if it hadn’t been for you…”

“I don’t want to talk about Thule,” he interrupted her. “Can I borrow this?” He asked, his long fingers brushing the Mortal Instruments concert flyer.

“Sure.”

She watched as he started folding the paper, realizing with a jolt of surprise that he was making an origami and wondering what shape would come out of it. It was odd seeing him doing such an innocuous thing, as if he was not a faerie prince with a heavy heritage and a giant target on his back, but an ordinary boy. She remembered what Emma had told her of her encounter with Ash in a nightclub in Thule. The way he had shown no interest, playing a video game in a corner of the room, while Sebastian was committing atrocities. Had he really been as indifferent as he looked?

“Ash, we don’t need to talk about Thule if you don’t want to, but if I can help you… If there is anything I can do-”

“Why?” He looked up sharply. “Are you able to create a rune that could undo the things I saw?” His tone was even, but his delicate fingers had started slightly shaking and he suddenly dropped the paper - his work unfinished - to fold his hands under the table to hide it. From that moment, she knew.

“No…” Clary said, drawing the word out. “But trust me, coming from someone whose memory has been tampered with... it’s not a solution.”

“I said undo. Not forget.” He snapped. “I am not such a coward that I would choose blissful ignorance over knowledge.”

He caught himself, blinking, then clenched his jaw and looked away. As if he was ashamed he had allowed himself to show any emotion at all. But Clary had managed to catch a glimpse of what lay underneath the mask and wanted nothing more than to see the rest of it.

“I don’t think you are a coward,” she said.

He looked over at her, a silver eyebrow raised. “I let it all happen, didn’t I? I didn’t lift a finger.”

“Because you couldn’t. Sebastian would have killed you. And you, Ash, are just like me. A survivor.”

He snorted and crossed his arms in front of him, leaning back on his chair. He had stretched out his long legs and Clary realized that he was tapping a foot nervously next to hers.

“Wrong. I could have. I chose not to. Because I am selfish. I don’t care about other people’s fate.”

His face split into a lazy, wicked grin. Clary could see Sebastian’s influence in his leer, but she wouldn't let it deceive her. Just as she wasn't fooled by his laid-back demeanor.

“I think it’s the opposite, actually. I think it’s because you care too much. It’s not death you are afraid of. The thing is, you have such a tender heart, you need to protect it from an affliction far greater than any physical pain you could endure. So you’d rather lie to yourself and pretend you feel nothing.”

From the long conversations she had with Tessa about her ancestors, Clary knew of a Fairchild boy who had been too compassionate for his own good. And he had been surrounded by loyal friends and loving parents, even though he had shut himself, putting on a facade while burying his grief in alcohol. Ash never had that kind of support. Throughout his life, he was left to figure things out on his own. If he was as empathetic as Clary thought he was, Ash probably had no other choice but to deal with his sensitivity alone. It was a miracle he had turned out the way he did.

“You have a lot of imagination,” he said after a moment. The ghost of a smile was still playing on his lips but something had passed across his eyes. “Then again, you are an artist. You seek beauty in the ugly. You find colors on a blank page. I admire your faith, but in this case, there is nothing to see.”

Clary jutted her chin stubbornly and they held each other’s gaze - his green eyes glittering in amusement and hers dead serious - in a staring contest.

“Still,” he said when he finally broke, first. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. I am sorry.”

Clary softened. “Don’t be. I am glad you are finally showing your true self. You don’t need to wear your mask around me, Ash.”

He chuckled. “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”

“It’s funny that you would quote Oscar Wilde.”

“And why is that?”

She shrugged. “Just another thing you share in common with a Fairchild I heard stories about.”

“Clary,” he said in a gently reproving tone. Her name sounded like a caress in his melodious voice. “Are you being purposefully cryptic to arouse my curiosity?”

She moved closer, so she was sitting at the edge of her chair, and leaned forward, hands folded over the table.

“If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” she whispered. “Let me in. Shed all pretense.”

“I can’t promise you that,” he whispered back in confidence, leaning closer still so that their faces were inches from each other. “It’s like fabric that burns and melts into skin. If you peel it off, the skin goes with it.” He grimaced, reclining on his chair. “It won’t be a pretty sight. I don’t think even my level of hotness could sustain it.”

“Ash…” Clary said, sensing that she finally had an opening to say what she had been brooding over ever since she had learnt of Ash’s return from that forsaken land. “I wanted to tell you… I am sorry.”

Ash’s green eyes widened.

“Sorry for what?”

“I should have looked for you. I should not have given up on you.”

Ash’s jaw clenched and he looked away. “Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I do. Seb-...Ash, we...”

“What did you just call me?” He snarled. His eyes snapped back to her, suddenly cold as ice.

“Sorry, Ash. What I meant to say is… we are family."

“I already have a family.”

“I know that you care about Janus…”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” he cut her off.

“And we don’t need to. I just wanted you to know… I understand that he’s been like a father to you, and I don’t plan on moving against him, unless he strikes first or makes it impossible for me to overlook his actions.”

“Because of me?”

“Of course, because of you.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Ash… You are my nephew, my blood. You may not feel the same way about me, but that’s how I feel about you. I want you to know that, if things go wrong, for any reason, you can always turn to me. My home is your home.”

“What you are actually telling me is, Ash, if I kill the one person who has ever really cared about you - and it might definitely come to that - you can always grab my hand, still sticky and warm from his blood. Well, how nice of you. To quote Oscar Wilde again, true friends stab you in the front.”

“That’s not what I am-”

“Clary,” Ash interrupted as he stood. “Do not make me choose between you and him. Because…” Looking down at her, he swallowed hard, as if the words pained him. “Because you will lose.”

She knew exactly what he was telling her. Because they were the same in that way. Ruthless, even with their own blood, when it came to protecting their loved ones. If I had to choose between killing him and you, I would not hesitate. I would end you. Yet, despite his cold statement, despite his sharp and resolved tone, his eyes seemed to carry a deep regret.

“Ash, I understand what you're saying and I swear I am not trying to make you pick a side”, Clary said, suddenly desperate, as she mirrored him and stood. “Please don’t go. I am sorry I brought it up. We will stop talking about him. Starting now.”

“This was a bad idea. Never try to contact me again.” He drew his green beanie from the pocket of his coat and put it back on. He turned and strode toward the exit. She grabbed the family drawing that still lay on the table, stuffed it in her bag and followed him, half-running, as he was quickly losing here with his long legs.

“Ash! Please. Give me another chance. I am so sorry.”

He paused right outside the coffee shop, closed his eyes and sighed. “Don’t be. It didn’t change what I had planned to tell you anyway. I don’t want to know anything about you or your mother. I don’t want to have anything to do with either of you.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” she said, and he whipped his head around to look at her in surprise. “I know you were under house arrest. You probably had to break out of whichever place they were holding you in to come here. You wouldn’t have done that unless you wanted something. Something from me. Tell me, Ash. Tell me what it is.”

He turned his face away so she could not see his expression. A full minute passed and she had almost given up on receiving an answer, when he finally spoke.

“My fa… Sebastian. How different do you think he would have been if not for the demon blood?”

“Oh. Ash.” she whispered. She brought her knuckle against her sternum instinctively, as if to cover the gaping whole in her chest. “I saw him, you know. The brother I should have had. The father that should have raised you. If only for a few minutes.” She paused to bite back tears. “In those few minutes, he told us how to get rid of the Endarkened and said he was sorry. It’s not much to go for, but… that’s not all. I have recurring dreams of the green eyed boy that was robbed from us. And I know in my heart he would have been the best brother a sister could ever dream of.”

He was still looking away and she could see the sharp line, the stubborn set of his jaw. She wanted to hug him, to tell him she would not fail him again. That they could mourn her brother, his father, together. That he didn’t need to bear the anger at everything that was wasted alone.

He finally turned to look at her. A tear had escaped to run freely down his cheek. He had completely shed off his mask, and what Clary saw was like a stab in her gut. She shivered. Wordlessly, he reached for his deep green scarf and tied it gingerly around her neck. The way Sebastian had when they had walked down the streets of Paris. Ash looked nothing like her brother had then. His green eyes held an infinite sadness that spoke of a grief deeper, older than the short years of his life.

“It doesn’t change anything.” He said - she hadn’t imagined his beautiful voice could sound so hollow - and turned to leave.

“Ash, wait.” She grabbed him by the elbow and he froze. His eyes widened as his gaze zeroed on the fingers covering his coat, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. She realized she had never touched him before.

“Clary, what do you want from me?” He asked in a tired voice.

“I just want to get to know you.”

“Trust me, you don’t. I am not the brother who was stolen from you. I cannot replace him. If anything, I am just like Sebastian was before me... my father’s broken toy. There is no way to fix me.”

“I don’t believe it for a second,” she said, almost frantic. “And I don’t want to find my brother's replacement, I want to get to know you! Ash. The real Ash.”

“I already told you. That’s not happening. Don’t ever try to contact me again. I am serious.”

“So that’s it?” She tried not to sound too whiny but panic was eating away at her stomach and she thought she would throw up. “You went through all this trouble spying on me, learning how I take my coffee to simply disappear from my life from one moment to the next?”

He gazed at her for a moment, his expression unfathomable. It seemed like an eternity before he finally spoke.

“I was not spying on you, Clary. I was merely following your stalker.”

“What? You were… protecting me?”

“Take care of yourself, Clary.”

He said as he stepped away from her and vanished into the crowd.

****

Clary threw herself in Jace’s arms as soon as he opened the door to their bedroom at the New York Institute. He froze, then started stroking her hair in a soothing gesture.

“Clary, what happened? Is everything okay?”

“No,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

“Tell me, Clary. What is it?”

She pulled away and wiped tears with the back of her hand. Jace’s face was a mask of shock. Clary couldn’t blame him. She almost never cried.

“I messed up.”

“What did you mess up?”

She walked to the bed and sat on the mattress. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for his reaction. “Ash. I met up with him earlier today.”

Jace tensed and his hands clenched into fists. “WHAT- Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would have insisted on coming.”

“Damn right, I would have. And I would have been right, too. Look at you, you look miserable.”

“It’s my fault,” she said in a small voice. “I pushed him too far.”

Jace sighed and came to sit next to her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder. “I am sure you did nothing wrong, Clary.”

“I thought- When I showed him the drawing… the way he looked at it, Jace. He is not indifferent. He cares.”

“What drawing?”

“The one I made of the family,” she said absently, as she grabbed her bag and started fumbling inside.

She sucked in a sharp breath. The drawing wasn’t there. Peeking out in its stead, and folded out of the flyer of the Mortal Instruments concert, were origami faerie wings. The Fairchild family symbol.

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wy-van-sunshine · 3 years

Text

modern Wesper high school

Wylan

The red-haired boy opened his locker pretty annoyed, slamming the door against the metal: it was the end of the school year and, just as usual, it was time to prepare for the school prom, probably the most important event to students.

Wylan hated it from the deepest of his heart: he had never been popular and no one had ever asked him to go together. What he hated even more was to see all the happy couples around him and some guys who found the courage to ask their love interest out.

Why had none of that ever happened to him in four years? Yes, he was openly gay and he was a little bit shy, but he wasn’t that bad after all, was he? He knew in his school there were other guys interested in men like he was, so why was he never considered a choice?

With his cheeks red with anger, he threw some books in his locker to put an end to that day and go home already; before closing the door, though, he saw a paper falling down from it: before he could catch it, a girl (whom he hated from the deepest of his heart) next to him took it and opened it: “Hey sunshine, want to go to the prom with me?” She looked at him raising her brows, a stupid smile curving her mouth “Oooh, Van Eck has a date! I wonder who could make such a poor choice”

Wylan rolled his eyes and took the note from that hideous bitch who never gave him a break. When she finally walked away, he focused on those words he couldn’t really read and his eyes suddenly widened: wait, had he just been asked out? Him?

Wylan was incredulous: that couldn’t be true, there had to be some kind of mistake. Wrong locker, maybe? He’d never been called “sunshine” before, so that message was definitely not for him.

He raised his gaze and scanned the hallway, looking for someone staring at him, maybe waiting for his reaction: but the only eyes he met were those of the captain of the football team, and he definitely couldn’t be his secret admirer.

Jesper

What he did was crazy and rushed, but that was just Jesper: everything he did was instinct. He carried the football team on his shoulders and all a good captain could do was to always trust his heart, no matter what.

He had spotted a beautiful mess of red curls during his first science class at the beginning of the year, and he’d been obsessed with that smart guy ever since: he didn’t talk much, but when he answered to the professor everything about the way he talked was hypnothic to Jesper - his soft, shaky tone, all those difficult scientific words, everything.

Even though Jesper was very friendly with everyone, he had never found the right moment to approach that curious boy: he was always alone, but every time he looked so focused on his drawings, lost in his thoughts, and Jesper just didn’t feel allowed to enter his world.

But he had to put an end to it: after talking to his dearest friend Inej about his matters of heart, the girl had suggested that he ask the red-haired guy out at the prom. He’d liked the idea.

He didn’t know his name - damn his lack of any focus during the science lessons, no wonder he had terrible grades - so he decided to call him by the spontaneous nickname he’d found after the first week: sunshine, because that guy with his curls and his smile shone like no one else.

He was now looking at him from the distance, curious to see his reaction to his note: when their eyes met, Jesper noticed the guy’s cheeks were much pinker and he chuckled, in complete awe for such softness.

Inej next to him smiled and punched him on the shoulder: “Looking flirty already?”

Jesper did nothning but laugh, keeping his focus on the handsome boy across the hall.

Wylan

All his surprise for the note disappeared when he saw the captain and his friend laugh while looking at him: suddenly, Wylan felt so stupid.

Of course no one wanted to go out with him, had he really believed any of that were true?

He lowered his gaze and only then did he remember he was wearing a green jumper: oh God, not only did he feel stupid, he was actually looking stupid. He remembered his father’s words every time he wore that colour: “Green with your red hair? You’re going to look like a Christmas elf. What’s next, a bell bracelet?”

No wonder the captain and his friend were laughing at him, now: they’d tricked him with a fake love note and they’d found him with that ridiculous outfit. He wouldn’t be surprised if they even knew he couldn’t actually read.

The joke turned out even better than expected.

Wylan felt tears filling his eyes and, before he could do anything about it, they were falling down on his cheeks. He had only a few seconds to see the captain’s expression change before he turned and ran away, far from all that shit he couldn’t take anymore.

Jesper

What had happened?

Jesper was standing petrified, all his excitement gone. He was confused and also a little bit crushed because he’d never seen tears wet that beautiful face before.

“I don’t understand” he whispered, turning to Inej to look for some answers.

“I don’t know what happened” said the girl, perplexed just the same “But I do feel like this is a good moment for you to be there for him. You say he’s always alone, and I don’t know who wants to be alone while crying”

Jesper nodded and gave Inej a rapid kiss on the cheek before leaving her in order to follow the red curls running away from him. It wasn’t hard, after all he was an athlete, so he could easily keep the guy’s pace. He followed him until he entered the music room: Jesper took a few moments to be surprised about it, but then he approached the door to join him and hopefully talk to him.

He found him seated at the piano, playing a furious yet wonderful melody on the keys.

Narrator

Wylan could express his feelings mostly through music, so that was the first thing he looked for after the pain he’d felt that day: he was liberating his frustration, telling his secrets to the only one who would listen.

He felt observed, but he didn’t care: whoever was annoyed by how loud he was playing could make peace with it already, he wasn’t going to stop.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt”

Wylan froze: he knew that voice. He’d watched some games at his school and the captain’s voice was always the loudest, the clearest.

Why had he followed him? Wasn’t he happy enough with how he had made fun of him?

“Leave me alone” whispered Wylan, his voice still rough “Please”

Jesper cleared his throat and stepped forward: “I’d like to sit next to you, actually. May I?”

“You may not”

The captain chuckled: “Um... okay, I’ll stand here then. I’m Jesper Fahey, nice to meet you”

The red-haired guy sighed: “What do you want? You’ve already humiliated me beyond imagination, what else do you need?”

Jesper opened his mouth, schocked and speechless: he had humiliated him? How was it possible? He hadn’t done literally anything apart from writing him a note that was everything but humiliating. What was the redhead talking about?

“I... what?”

Wylan laughed, tears filling his eyes again: “Oh please, please don’t play fool with me. Asking the poor loser out fot the prom? Very funny, yes, I’m sure you had a heartfelt laugh with your friends”

Jesper tried to reply, but Wylan went on, his cheeks newly red and wet: “You know, I knew I was stupid, but not as much as to believe someone like you could actually be interested in me. Stupid Wylan, you idiot. Father’s so right about you, you’re such a delusion”

“Hey-”

“And you also found me wearing this stupid green jumper and- you know what, I’m taking this off. I’m already a loser to you, so what changes?”

Jesper put a hand on Wylan’s arm and stopped him, trying to look at him in the eyes.

“Wylan - did I understand right? - Wylan, stop for a second. What the hell are you talking about? And why shouldn’t you wear that jumper? I...” the captain laughed nervously “I am honestly so confused, but please listen to me”

The redhead froze at the sudden warmth of the captain’s hand on his arm: he dried his cheeks with his sleeve and sighed: “Just be fast, I really can’t do this today”

The captain cleared his throat: “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding” he smiled at Wylan “I really want to go to the prom with you”

Wylan’s eyes widened, his breath catched: was he serious?

“Is that so?”

Jesper laughed: “I’ve already asked you twice in less than an hour, what do you want, a formal request?”

“I...” the redhead was speechless, his mind was starting to ache trying to understand how any of that were possible. He was probably dreaming.

The captain pointed his hand to the free space next to Wylan: “While you take this life-changing decision, may I sit?”

Wylan gave him the faintest smile: “Yeah”

The captain sat and the redhead held his breath for some seconds: Jesper’s arm was muscled and strong against his thin one, his profile looked like a sculpture, his lips were the most perfect shape he’d ever seen, his skin was a beautiful light brown similar to that cappuccino he loved so much. When Wylan found the ability to breath again, the captain’s fresh scent made him drunk.

He was going to lose his mind, so he made his eyes look away before he did anything stupid.

Jesper felt Wylan’s tension through his arm against his, so he placed a hand on the piano and played a random key: “I’ve always been astonished by the power of this instrument, but I don’t think I’ll ever understand how to play it” he turned his head to Wylan “You were playing beautifully, I would’ve listened to you for hours”

Wylan shrugged: “It wasn’t a great performance, I was just letting some bad feelings out. I can do better. Besides, that’s not even my main instrument”

“Oh?” now Jesper was surprised: just how great could this guy’s talents be?

The redhead smiled and scrolled his head: “No, I play the flute. But here at school I can only use the piano, hygienic stuff, you know. I... I really needed to play some music just to feel better”

Jesper nodded: “Did you feel bad because of the note I left in your locker?”

“Well...” Wylan sighed “Kind of. It’s not your fault, though: at first I was surprised, then I saw you and you friend laugh and I panicked. I thought it was all just a mockery”

“Why would you think that?” asked the captain raising a brow.

Wylan laughed: “Are you kidding? You’re, like, the most popular person in the entire school, how could I believe you were actually asking me out?”

He wasn’t going to mention his dyslexia too. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. Besides, he was starting to think Jesper didn’t actually know about it.

“Well, for starters I should inform you that you’re very cute and that you shouldn’t blush for me saying that” Jesper restrained a smile looking at those pale cheeks get the darkest shade of red “And you should also know that Inej and I were laughing because we were so excited to see your reaction. I’ve had you stuck in my head for a while now, you know”

“You... you have?” Wylan could simply not believe it. There wasn’t any logic in any of that.

Yet, it was happening.

“Yeah”

“So... so is everything true? You really want to go out with me, of all guys?”

“Oh Christ, you’re a tough one, aren’t you?” asked Jesper rolling his eyes. He stood up, just to get down on one knee and take Wylan’s hands in his “Please, Wylan, for the last time, will you go to this godforsaken prom with me?”

The redhead laughed, incredulous, but at the same time trusting towards that handsome guy kneeling if front of him: “I think I will”

“Oh my- can’t you just say yes, for my heart’s sake?”

“Okay, yes! Yes I will!” conceded Wylan, now laughing so hard he couldn’t even remember he’d been crying just a few minutes before.

“Thank God. This was the toughest task of my life so far”

Jesper sat back next to Wylan, smiling and feeling wonderfully. The redhead looked at him for a while, then cleared his throat: “Would you mind if I...” he hesitated, unsure if he could already go that far.

“If you what?”

Wylan lowered his eyes and whispered: “... if I hugged you?”

Jesper smiled as he whispered back a faint “come here”, circling Wylan’s shoulders with his arm, pulling him towards his body and placing his other hand between his incredibly soft curls. They both closed their eyes, feeling well, in the right place.

“By the way” whispered Jesper, not moving the tiniest inch from their hug “I have no idea why you talked about your jumper, but for the record I think green looks wonderful on you”

Wylan smiled against the captain’s chest: “You do?”

“Yes. It makes your eyes and your hair look even more beautiful. As a matter of fact, you should wear green more often”

In response, Wylan held tighter to Jesper’s body: “I will, then”

#wesper #wesper fanfic #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #six of crows #crooked kingdom #shadow and bone

29 notes · View notes

bbhyeoliskooks · 3 years

Note

I lovveeee your work!!! I have read like everything lol! You’re a great writer, can I request a slow dancing scenario??? Thank you have a great day❤️❤️

˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩ 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ✩•̩̩͙* ˚

➶ TXT’s Reaction to Slow Dancing with You

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

Genre: literally 200 cups of fluff and maybe a pinch of angst if you squint

Warnings: Unedited, long cheesy stuff but other than that, none !

Song: Domino

(Ahhhh ><, thank you so much ~! This is so sweet of you to say and I hope you have a great day too 🥺💞 i’m so sorry that it took so long but I worked really hard on this one ++ got super carried away so you’d like it ! And since you didn’t request a member, I just decided to do all five in scenario format so you can have all princes hehe~~ anyway, i hope you like this ! ps i rlly popped off on soobin i swear 🗿🗿)

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

˚⁺‧. Yeonjun: ˚⁺‧.

Yeonjun was the sweetest boyfriend one could ever ask for.

You wouldn’t have believed it back then that the boy you met at a store as a soon to be fellow classmate would be your boyfriend in the future, the one who gave you surprise kisses out of nowhere just because he wanted to.

Well ever since you were children, you’d been best friends thanks to your parents chatting it up a storm whenever there was a party or if they met up randomly in the food aisles of Walmart. It was so boring that you would just rather choose to run away into the toy section to find some amusing things like slime or mud perfume, for example. You always hated waiting for them to finish talking about school and children by yourself as you searched for something fun to play with, and when you saw a boy your age with wide, sparkling eyes gazing at you as if you were a nice toy- that was the start of the roller coaster you could call of being Choi Yeonjun’s best friend.

Two years later after that incident, you could vividly remember the way he asked you to be his wife in the future with a cherry ring pop in hand. It was during recess and most of the other children never bothered with him during that time even if he was one of the popular kids. He was always talking about you, talking about how cool you were even if the two of you found some dirt and cherries from the tree to make mud potions with. Adorable five year old Yeonjun took your tiny hand into his and asked you to marry him due to the times you experienced together like running away from the teacher because she looked like a scary green monster or getting yelled at home together since you wandered off by yourselves. Now you couldn’t lie- the only reason you said yes was to eat it later when you got home. But years later, both of you never took it seriously, you had just assumed it was something silly children did in order to act like grownups. Because of this, you could say you truly grew up together and it was so fond to see how the two of you were in fate stuck together, hip by hip.

High school was so much fun with him, and college was just the same. Besides studying, Yeonjun always made all of your moments in school happy no matter how sad you were. He’d walk and pick you up generously, even waiting after every single chore you volunteered to do for the teacher plus the clubs you attended to. That didn’t mean he kept whining about how much stuff you had to do. The complaining he had when you dragged him along to the library was quite the endearing bunch though, but you wouldn’t be able to give up any second you had of him. He was always right there, right beside your side where you always wanted him to stay.

And as inevitable as it was, there were countless people whom you loved and lost, but every single time Yeonjun would thankfully be there for you, handing you tissues when you were a mess in bed, spiraling out of control thanks to what love did. Likewise it was the same for you and whenever Yeonjun had a problem with his significant other- plus they eventually broke off- you would always care for him and give him the love that they failed to give. You both figured that life would be fine together as long as you had each other... and maybe that was the push that finally brought you together.

Every single date and argument you had with him only pressed you closer and there was never a dull moment when the two of you were together. You were deeply and irrevocably in love with him and you knew down in your heart that he clearly felt the same way. Choi Yeonjun, although he wore you out whenever he asked for mint ice cream at 1am on a weekday, was the best boyfriend one could ever ask for.

There was no doubt about it; who wouldn’t give up their entire life just to marry him? Maybe you would ask him or maybe he asked you but knowing him, he would definitely surprise you with the big news whenever you were ready.

You opened the door after shopping by yourself for a few gifts for Yeonjun- after all, it was your four year anniversary. The front door creaked when you did so, and you winced at the sound which gave your presence away. Great, now the surprise was ruined... however, Yeonjun standing there with a grin on his face was more than good enough- perfect enough that you were left breathless in awe.

He was dressed up, adorned in a black suit that immediately reminded you of the time he first took you out on a date for a fancy dinner. It was perfect. A spotless black tie and everything, you knew he really did his best with the outfit so you would like it. His messy hair was the complete opposite of his tidied up suit, but you weren’t complaining. He still looked as dashing as ever and it made your heart stop in place when he shot you one of those sweet grins, filling up your entire chest with pure love.

You hastily dropped the gifts on the counter, frowning at the difference between the two of you. In a rush to get the presents after a long day of work, you were in your uniform- something that definitely didn’t suit your liking at all. Your anniversary celebration was supposed to be perfect, but here you were ruining it all with your tardiness and clothing.

In response, Yeonjun’s eyes fell upon the many wrapped up gifts you had taken upon yourself to amaze him with, and you thought he was going to open them due to curiosity. Instead he just took your hand and pulled you to the living room where there was more space, his hand shuffling comfortably to wrap against your waist.

“Let’s open them later, right now I just want to dance with the love of my life.”

The living room showed how much effort he put into the celebration. You admired the scenery, wondering how long it took for him to do it. With lit, rose scented candles, red petals of the same gorgeous flower sprinkled on the carpet, a soft instrumental of the song “Can’t Help Falling in Love” playing delicately through his speaker, you came to adore the boy in front of you so much more. His words said a lot about loving you already, but when you looked at his actions, it sized up to merely nothing.

“Jjunie, I look like a mess. Won’t you allow me to prepare first before we dance? You put all of this effort for me and I don’t even look good for it,” you muttered quietly, too quiet that you were sure he didn’t hear it. Oh but he did, and he was left feeling a bit somber about your confidence. In that moment he wished he was able to see how much he loved you regardless of your appearance.

In doing so he pulled you closer, letting you lean comfortably on his shoulder as the two of you swayed gently back and forth. You melted into his embrace, holding him just as much as he did. The chuckle from his chest almost sounding mocking, and he in turn slowly shook his head for the answer. You sighed, knowing how stubborn he was about things like this but at least you gave a try.

Now Yeonjun was pulling you flush against his chest but still rocking you back and forth with him to the rhythm of the song. You hid your face into any part of him you were able to find, feeling embarrassed that he could still make you feel like a teenager in love. Every day was like this with him trying to make you turn into a burning tomato, but gosh did it still get all the heat explode in your face.

His breath hitched against your ear, practically nipping on it delicately as if you were the most fragile thing on Earth. You shuddered when his voice conjured up a whisper.

“And what makes you think that? To me, you’re the most beautiful person ever and I wouldn’t think any less of it. You’re perfect to me- I’m in love with the prettiest baby there could ever be and I’m glad to call them mine.”

You bit your lip at his words, knowing fully well that it was genuine.

“I know you tell me this every second with me, but how can I be so sure? Growing up with you was such a blessing and I’m happy as well to be able to receive it, but I’m sure you would fall for someone better.”

“Please, Y/N,” he muttered with sparkles in his eyes, “I only see you. I only want you. And I need only you in order to smile like I do every moment we’re together. I wouldn’t ever be able to get on with life without you, can’t you see? I’m nothing without you and you’re the only person who’s made me this happy.

“Everyday I’m more than grateful to be able to be with you and I know I don’t deserve such a beautiful person like you, inside and out. I still remember chasing you around the playground one Friday and pulling on your pigtails to the point where you cried. I never told you this but I swore to myself that I wouldn’t make someone I loved like you cry ever again like that. How silly was I to not know that the love of my life was in front of me at that moment?”

Saying this he leveled to the ground, bending down on one knee as you gasped in shock. What was he doing?

“I don’t ever want to lose you- I wouldn’t be able to afford it if I ever did. I just want to be with the one and only person who completes me. The one and only person who I can count on whenever I’m sick with the flu. The one and only person who takes me out to mint ice cream at 1am. The one and only person I could really call mine. The one and only person who I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

His hand shuffled in his pocket before pulling a tiny box out and he opened it, showing a tiny sparkling, ring with a resplendent diamond on the top. Not a ring pop, but a real one. You covered your mouth with your shaking hands, feeling a tear fall against your cheek. His eyes were glistening just like the first time you met him and your eyes were the same as his, tearing up because of his sincere words that were nothing less of the truth.

“So to the person whom I love more than anyone I’ll ever be able to and my true first love... will you marry me?”

He waited for your answer but you just jumped up and pressed your lips against his, showing how much you needed him in a passionate kiss.

“Y-yes,” you gasped with all your breath, “I’ll marry you, Yeonjun.”

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

˚⁺‧. Soobin: ˚⁺‧.

Soobin was absolutely intolerable.

If teasing you in class in front of everyone even if it was something he viewed as lighthearted, calling you weird in front of a person that you really liked and proceeded to tell the embarrassing stories of when you were both in freshman year, and even picking you up- quite literally- when you were getting a bit too close with another person, then that was it.

You were so tired of the tricks he was pulling, laughing when you talked back with a frustrated tone or pushing him on the chest whenever it got too much. No matter how many times you told him to screw off after a bad or good day alike, he wouldn’t listen. He must’ve been deaf or something, that’s for sure- because the amount of times you caught him staring at you was just exhausting.

And you could imagine it- almost every day at school was like this, and you certainly had enough. When will he ever learn to leave you alone? Just a day, you prayed with all your soul throughout the years of high school. Just a day. Please...? However, a life without Soobin was too much of wishful thinking and you knew it entirely deep down. But jeez, was it enough for you to go one day of class without him bothering you incessantly?

As you slid your outfit on for prom, you thought of the first time you met him.

It was a lie to say he was the most grotesque, disgusting person you’d ever laid eyes on. It was totally a lie. So much of a lie that God wouldn’t allow you into heaven for saying something so wrong.

Yes, you had to admit it: Choi Soobin, your one and only enemy was just the cutest.

Well at first... you thought he was adorable. Puffy, mochi cheeks that reminded you much of like a bunny’s munching on soft bread at the table in front of yours, you swore you could say back then that he was the one you were waiting for all your life in your teenage mind that is. He always shot you a kind smile that only radiated warmth and maybe if you weren’t too shy to say something, then the two of you could’ve been great friends or possibly something more. But as always you stayed next to your friends, wanting hopelessly that he would be the first person to make the move. That saying by itself was too much though. If he wasn’t such a jerk, then you were sure you would’ve already fallen in love with him by now.

Events like this piled on you every week and you found yourself staring at him every lunch as he did the same. The eye contact felt like electricity whenever it happened. You were entirely entranced by the boy before you, gazing wishfully that you two would actually get to know each other. You were dying to know what secrets lied under those doe eyes and fresh handsome face, not even able to eat your lunch from how concentrated you were of him. Plus he wasn’t intimidating in the sense many people think, it’s just that you were afraid he was going to judge you when you obviously liked him that much. Every now and then you would catch yourself staring at him during the classes you had with him, and that already said a lot.

Now here comes the worst part. The absolute worst part that wrecked your very important first impression of yourself to him.

The story goes like this. You weren’t watching your step after finishing your lunch tray, thoughtlessly bringing it towards the garbage can right across the corner. And with that you weren’t looking who was in front of you, trying to throw his trash away in the opposite trash can on the other side of the room. Unfortunately, with him coming right at you and with you looking towards the ceiling at the ball somehow lodged under the pipes, you crashed into him food and all flying everywhere... and at the boy you tried so hard to talk to.

Okay, so maybe you deserved all of this torment.

Soobin’s cheeks were so red when the tray made a clamorous sound of a clunk and all of the people in the room slowly realizing, started to laugh at the scene in the middle of the room. The glare he sent you gave you shivers down your back as you kept profusely apologizing, trying to wipe away the food on his uniform shirt to no avail. It was like hell to you, and you had never felt so embarrassed in front of a boy your whole entire life.

Soobin just furrowed his eyebrows at your shaky apologies, bending down to hand you your tray. Like a fool, your heart was pounding in your chest when he pushed the tray into your arms as you murmured yet another sorry. The napkins were useless. Obviously he wasn’t able to take it but out of all the chaos, you could hear him whisper something of “meet me in front of the school gate after school” into your ears.

And you being the worst person you were after spilling rice all over him just had to do it out of guiltiness. For sure you didn’t know what you were getting into as soon as he opened his mouth, giving you a list of chores just for the fun of it. Getting a can of coke for him at the very top school floor because the vending machine there was somehow better than the other ones, buying him a new shirt even when he was just kidding about it, letting him do your hair for a day to go to school in was all you needed to do on the list, but the torment kept coming. He never let you live it down and at this point you were

What you weren’t expecting however, was for Soobin to be right there at the dance floor, searching around for someone who wasn’t there. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him in his raven suit, looking as handsome as ever with his entrancing smirk and grinning eyes. You hushed it down, beating your chest down with a hand when you abruptly heard a familiar voice tug at your ears.

“Ah, Y/N! Thank gosh you look terrible today. I guess I have no choice to be your date today,

Who else could it be?

“Oh, it’s you,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes when that endearing chuckle rolled by. What were you expecting? It wasn’t as if he was going to stop making fun of you just because this was supposed to be one of the memorable nights in your entire life. You begged to differ though. Awkward and stiff, you hoped that you didn’t stick out like a sore toe in all this fun. Many other students looked like they were having the time of their life, but they were a bit... sweaty and stinky? Mostly the boys but you weren’t paying much attention when Soobin was right in front of you.

“And me- being your date?!” You asked incredulously, looking as if he had committed a crime. “Why me when you literally have the attention of people all over the whole school?”

When you said this his cheeks turned red before he swatted the tint away. Looks like you had an effect on him. You were sure you hit a nerve because he was stuttering now, unable to look in your eyes as if avoiding them would do the trick. You wondered what he was thinking of before his eyes flashed with an unreadable mischievousness.

“Hey, don’t you think we should dance? This opportunity comes only once in our life. And you don’t know what may happen,” he suggested, tugging gently on your hand. You hadn’t even realized he grabbed it but just the feeling of it made your ears turn hot. Anymore of this and you would faint by the end of the night.

In no time, Soobin led you to the dance floor where everyone else was dancing. The music changed little by little and it was finally the time that every couple was waiting for. Grant that you weren’t a couple, but maybe one time you’ll let it slide. He must’ve planned this- to ask you by now; the smirk said everything. You rolled your eyes and just admired the several colors of light reflecting off the disco ball, letting an ardent smile engrave your face. That is, until he spoke up,

“Oh wow, I can’t believe you said yes. I thought you’d slap me because I asked,” he teased, bringing you along the rhythm of his feet.

You scoffed at him, glaring down at the floor and at his polished shoes.

“Well, I should’ve. But I’m not that mean of a person and I wouldn’t want to embarrass you again.”

His hand slowly slid down to your waist almost as if he was teasing you while you just rocked awkwardly, feeling the breath in your lungs deplete little by little from how suddenly gentle he was. You were so caught off guard, almost paralyzed in your spot from how casual he did this, like he had done it every single day of his life.

“Listen, I know you hate me and all, but don’t be so stiff. You know I won’t hurt you,” he whispered gently, taking you into his arms. Your heart clenched at the forbidden feeling called ‘oh my gosh you’re turning into the naive freshman who didn’t at first know Soobin’s colors,’ but your burning throat didn’t allow yourself to say anything. He’d just make fun of you if you opened your mouth to say something.

Instead you swayed along with him, listening to the sweet music the person in charge put on. The voice sounded familiar, sweet and melodic, drifting through the room of many people who stopped to look at the person responsible. You, however, was completely blind to this, only focusing on the fact that you were dancing with your sworn enemy.

Soobin’s hands danced to your waist and you shuddered, biting your lips when he suddenly spoke up.

“Isn’t it a nice song?”

Was he kidding? The more you listened to it, the more you fell in love with it. It sounded soft, so sincere that you were left wanting more. But you couldn’t put your finger on who was singing, although it sounded so damn familiar.

You just nodded, looking at his chest more so than his face. You were too shy to look at him straight in the eyes, those eyes that seemed to smolder you every time you made eye contact with him. It reminded of you before the time you spilled that cursed rice on him, but you didn’t want to think about those memories anymore. It’d only remind you of how perfect everything could’ve turned out and that you wouldn’t have to deal with a boy like him.

Somehow Soobin pulled you even closer, letting his hand linger on your cheek where it stayed. He treated you with the utmost carefulness, cupping your cheek softly like you were the most fragile thing. You melted into it instantly, admiring his warmness and how he could act this way so as to not ruin your night.

“Believe it or not, I wrote this song for you... I asked the DJ to put it on today. It’s funny to me that you can’t even hear your own name in the song. I thought my own voice would sound familiar to you, you silly goose,” he choked out, letting a smile adorn his face when the realization caught onto you.

Wait...

That voice...

Was Soobin?!

And he wrote it for you?!

You instantly connected the dots together, looking at him straight in the eyes now. He was kidding. He had to be. But this...? You weren’t able to comprehend that it was written for you due to the fact you thought he hated you. He hated you, right? With everything he was doing, it was so obvious! You ruined his image in the beginning of the year and if you were put into his shoes, you would’ve hated yourself too. But... but why did the song have to be so loving with cheesy lyrics and the most important to mention, your name!

All this tugging and pulling on your heart- you couldn’t take it! You couldn’t take the signals he kept sending you and then pushing away like you were nothing!

You stopped immediately, making him pause as well.

“Why are you acting like this? Do you genuinely enjoy seeing me frustrated like this? If you do, then it’s not funny. You’re just the worst,” You cried desperately, tearing up as the taste of frustration lingered on your tongue. Explaining yourself when you were mad at him was the worst-- especially when you couldn’t help sobbing along at how upset you were when he said unbelievable, sweet words.

You were about to start on your feet, away from Soobin- away from someone you tried so damn hard to hate after everything he’d done to you, pushing yourself away from his embrace when he grabbed your arm.

Looking at him you could see how genuine he was under those sparkling, doe eyes gazing at you intently with a somber frown. It had seemed like he acknowledged that fact already, but it only made matters worse.

“Y/N, I just... look, it’s so hard for me to say but I... I really, really like you, alright? I’m so in love with you and everything you do for the time I get to see you whether that be in class or at lunch. The way you look, the way you act, the way you carry yourself when things get hard... gosh, don’t you know what you’ve done to my heart? Why did you have to steal it so quickly when we made eye contact for the first time?”

He started leaning in now, but you were standing too still at the confession. It was stupid, but the tears in your eyes were preventing you from saying anything. He must’ve been kidding- he had to be! He had to be lying... he just had to, right? But the heartfelt words being spilled from his lips proved that he was more in love with you than anyone else and he was showing it right now.

And at the most vital moment- just before touching your lips with his- he stopped. Robbed you of whatever was going to happen. Took away what freshman and present you wanted most. He was just close enough that you could feel his breath fan across your lips, almost mocking you of how close you were going to get him.

“Is this okay?” He breathed impatiently, almost glazing his lips against yours to the point where you were considering making the move yourself.

“Yes, yes it is, stupid. And gosh you have to know how whipped I am for you too,” you shakily blurted out, letting him know how much you really liked him as well. Your hands almost covered your big fat mouth from saying much more, but what was done was unfortunately done.

That was it. He knew it now. The whole truth you were dying to let him know. You finally said it and the prolonged silence between the two of you made you want to take back your words, but the way Soobin reacted the moment you said that-

it was enough for him to crash his lips against yours.

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

˚⁺‧. Beomgyu: ˚⁺‧.

“My dearest Y/N, what are you doing out here? Please come back with me to the castle; it isn’t safe to be here, you know that.”

Wait... when did he show up here?

And d-dearest? You had to be hearing things!

Immediately you stopped hiding your sullen face in your gloved hands, slowly looking up to see the boy you were thinking of the entire time. In all of his dashing presence, you couldn’t help but notice there was a deep frown on his face. It was almost as if he was disappointed in you leaving, and the remorseful tone in his words made it crystal clear. But it didn’t make any sense at all... how could he be in the secret garden you always came to whenever things got rough? He wouldn’t have known anything about it, not unless he followed you here.

You instantly got up from where you were sitting on the white angel bench, struggling to speak loudly enough for him to hear.

“P-Prince Beomgyu...? Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be there trying to find someone good enough for your betrothed? I thought you didn’t see me... leave...”

Ardently the prince suddenly smiled when you said this, shaking his head in amusement while you scrambled to find words that would fill the empty, comfortable atmosphere. He seemed to be teasing you with his adorable grin, eyes filling with luminous sparkles as the eye contact he kept making with you wouldn’t come to an end. It reminded you of the stars you always wanted to see from up close, the beautiful ones you had studied a few months before with the old books the queen had received years ago when she too was a princess. Yet, you hated how nervous he obviously made you and eventually looked away from his enamoured gaze that held nothing but love.

“I was looking for you, and I guess I looked right. Mind telling me why you’re here now, prince/ss?”

His soft voice warmed your ears all the more, its velvet low timbre echoing through the moonlight as he took a few steps towards you. He reached out his hand easily, waiting for you to take it but you just weren’t able to, not with what happened back there. The look on your face must’ve been priceless when you sensed he was coming closer and you instinctively took a few steps back, unfortunately tripping onto one of the rose bush vines and falling backwards.

Preparing to fall to your ultimate demise, you shut your eyes tightly- not caring if you died right then and there. It wouldn’t matter much anyway, right? What a pretty way to die, right there in front of whom you wanted to call your beloved.

“Hey, be careful!”

In a split second, you felt someone’s arms wrap around your torso, their hands holding tightly around your waist so you wouldn’t fall. It felt way too familiar to you and you opened your eyes, gasping once you saw who saved you.

Filling your ears again was the warm, tender voice of Prince Beomgyu who stared right down at you with concern in his expression. You looked up to him with wide eyes, wondering when he was going to level you to the ground as expected. However, it seemed like he wasn’t going to do just that yet; you could see the mischievousness in the smug smirk he was wearing. Then to keep you secure, he brought you closer towards him but didn’t dare to let go of his comfortable position over your waist.

“You just proved my point,” he murmured, “Why did you come out here when you know it isn’t safe here in the first place, dear?”

The moonlight glistened across his face, showing radiantly his beauty as the heart caged in your chest performed several flips. It was always like this whenever you saw him... wherever, really, at the balls or whenever his family made a trip to Amaryllis Kingdom. Before shuffling away from him on your own accord your eyes flickered to his lips, exhausted to see how much you were entranced by him.

“Why did I come out here? And you’re calling me, your dear?! With all due respect, will you stop acting like you do not know?”

You scoffed tiredly at his words, dusting yourself off as you pushed him away from you. The pent up frustration was clear in your voice and you almost felt guilty for him, if not for what he did back there. What was he expecting to say when you were angry solely at his actions? An okay? An agreement to go to the castle again when he was more interested in what your best friend had to say?

He shot an incredulous look at you, furrowing his eyebrows until they knit sourly together. “What are you saying? I’m flabbergasted here! Tell me what’s been going on so I can make it better!”

You shook your head back and forth rapidly, pursing your lips as he inched towards you through little steps.

“If you wanted to make it better, then you shouldn’t have avoided me like I was the plague! It’s been such a long time seeing you after the last ball, and I- I miss you terribly... I just don’t understand why you had to leave me to seek out my friend.” Your voice became as quiet as a mouse squeaking when you neared towards the end of your words, holding back at yelling at him when it really wasn’t his fault for finding someone better for his betrothed anyway. It didn’t mean it hurt any less still, knowing that you were so close to the chance of loving someone so sweet and caring like him.

Beomgyu reached out to you tenderly and this time you took it silently without complaint, watching as he pressed a few kisses on the top of your hand. How could someone cause you to feel so many things in a minute, making your anger vanish the second he let those words fly out of his lips?

“That wasn’t what I meant to do, prince/ss...”

In a crumbling motion, the rest of your resentment dissipated and dripped into the puddle right beside you. It slowly became into a sadness that even his smile wouldn’t be able to heal, showing you how you should’ve never messed with the entanglements and matters of love. It only indicated how much you were doomed to accept the fact that he would never be yours.

“Enlighten me, please,” you begged now, ignoring how his blossom lips trembled upon hearing your despondent request.

Instead he just took your hand into one of his, squeezing tightly so that you would listen. His lace sleeve brushed up against your arm as he went to cup your cheek, making you shudder along with the breeze that flew by the two of you. The warmness of his hand made you lean against it, sighing in relief at how long the desire to at least touch him was finally satisfied.

“That never was my intention, Y/N. I apologize for making you feel like that, I truly am a fool not to notice. I was talking to your friend to know the things you wanted in an ideal prince. I thought I wouldn’t ever be good enough for you so that took way longer than expected... And I guess I’ve missed you for so long too that I was a bit nervous to face you, but I know that isn’t an excuse either. I’m so sorry for my actions tonight. I’ll make it up to you once we get back to the ballroom.” His thumb rubbed softly against your cheekbone as the desperation in his eyes caught onto you, letting you know how much sincerity there was in both his words and lips.

And yet, you couldn’t help but smile. He was always so caring like this, despite making everything out of humor, and maybe that’s why you fell in love with him.

“You should’ve asked me first, Gyu.” He cringed at the way you seemingly forget to mention his title before you continued again. “You know that you’re more than good enough for me. You’re simply... perfect.” You let the word fall off your lip and the prince again shot you another charming grin that had your heart pitter-pattering in your chest.

“I know that now,” he teased, pulling you closer to his arms in an embrace. You wallowed in it for a few seconds, hugging him back as well. He laughed at this, letting his chin drop comfortably on the top of your head.

“Now come on, didn’t I say I was going to make it up to you? Let’s head back to the castle now, my love.” He started to lead you out of your secret garden and into the royal pathway, much to your despise.

You weren’t sure what happened... It seemed like the happiness you just experienced crashed on your shoulders in waves, and you screamed unfortunately right in his ear.

“No!”

You dug your heels into the dirt, forbidding him to go any farther than what he was hoping. He quickly turned back to you after wincing from the abrupt pain, checking up on you worriedly after your outburst.

“I don’t want to go back there,” you whispered, looking into his eyes this time. It felt like electricity to you- to know that he was right there listening to you, listening to your worries in order to let you know that he cared.

“Why?” He let his hand trail down to tuck a fallen hair strand behind your ear, and you felt all the more guilty for bothering him like this. It was enough for yelling at him needlessly earlier when it wasn’t what he meant to do, but now this? You caught sight of the mud on your ankles, knowing that the king and queen wouldn’t be too happy about it.

“Because... I hate it there. I know we’re royalty- you’re a prince and I’m a prince/ss, but I don’t want any other people looking at you. They don’t know who you’re going to choose as your betrothed yet- it just makes me anticipate whoever you’re going to pick!”

The expression on Prince Beomgyu’s face was absolutely endearing as he ruffled the top of your head, finding entertainment at your embarrassment. You cringed at how your crown almost fell off, trying to slide it back on as Beomgyu did it for you.

“You’re so cute,” he chuckled, making all the heat in your face become prominent. This effect he had on you was always surprising, and you were sure he knew that from the confession you just made. You internally groaned at yourself. Why should you be shocked when he never misses the chance to say stuff like this?

“Then... how about we slow dance here instead? After all, I’m sure you can hear the blasting music from here,” he suggested, lifting a curious eyebrow for your response.

True to his words, you could hear most of the strings from the castle below to your secret garden. You weren’t that far from the castle and both of you wanted to give it a chance, so why hold back now? You let him take not only your hand into the melody of “Clair de Lune,” but also your heart.

He just smiled nervously at you, allowing you to wrap your arms behind his neck. A rush of nostalgia passed through you, reminding you of the time when you first danced together last year at the ballroom. All too familiar, his hands slid towards your waist and you giggled at the tickling sensation, wallowing at how close he was- enough to press a kiss to his button nose. It was easy to follow his swaying movements back and forth, but you were cautious this time not to trip into the thorny rose bushes.

Beomgyu carefully twirled you beside him, admiring the way your attire followed you along as well.

“Wait, you do know one thing, right?”

You tilted to your head to the side. What he was taking about- you weren’t sure at all. But you let him continue, feeling his arms bring you closer to his chest.

“You do know that... I love you. So much and entirely so. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Prince/ss Y/N. I want to treat you well and make that beautiful smile of yours become a main part of our life together. I want to have children of our own with you and watch them grow up into princes and princesses or whatever they choose to be themselves. I want to love you for the rest of our life and announce you mine.”

He stopped dancing this time, leaning towards you with hooded eyes. You allow him to, choosing to shut your eyes as well.

“Now tell me,” he whispered, laying a chaste soft kiss to your lips breathlessly, “will you be my queen when the time comes?”

You only nodded back, melting into the kiss as you took him into an affectionate embrace.

“Yes, of course, my prince.”

Finally... at last, you found your Prince Charming.

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

˚⁺‧. Taehyun: ˚⁺‧.

Needless to say, you were in love with Kang Taehyun.

You were so in love with the way he made extra time for you in his schedule even if he was busy studying. You were so in love with how he would pick you up despite your protests because apparently he felt unsafe when you weren’t with him. You were so in love with the way he took care of you whenever things got rough and comforted you through the little things like mood swings and disappointment when the waitress forgot to bring out your favorite cake. You were so in love with how he never rushed you into the relationship, promising to wait for you until you were ready. You were so in love with how caring he was towards you; every single day you spent with him made you feel as if you were on top of the world.

Even curled up in his arms now, you could feel the love you had for him swell in your chest as you looked at the mesmerizing him. He was holding you so gently, so sweetly, letting sweet words fall from his lips in order to make you smile. It obviously worked because you were nothing more than a giggling mess, watching him like a fool to get you to smile. Honestly, he wasn’t that much for public affection, but when it was the only two of you... you were allowed to say that he was clingy and wanted to hold on tight so that you’d never leave.

The white blanket from beneath you fluttered a little in the breeze and you shivered from how chilly it was. You should’ve brought a coat earlier like Taehyun had said, but it was the summer so it couldn’t have been that cold! You wrapped yourself in your arms, trying to get up if not for the deathly hug of Taehyun. Instead it only encouraged him to hold tighter onto you all the more, squeezing your arms tight in his embrace.

“I told you to wear at least something warmer, Y/N. Now you’re clearly shivering and I don’t want to give up my coat just for you,” he teased and that caused you to hit him playfully on the arm.

“I didn’t ask for a coat! I love the weather when it’s like this... especially when I’m with you,” you shut your eyes and stuck your tongue at him. The boy just pretended to gag and that made you laugh at his silly reaction.

The birds chirping from up above caught your attention, and you noticed how freely they seemed to be flapping their wings. As corny as it is, maybe one day you’d feel like flying with Taehyun. You weren’t sure how you were going to do it, but you want to make him the happiest he’s ever been in his whole entire life. Hmm... a nice moment of quiet would be good enough for you to think of a solution to that problem.

Although the silence was nice after that moment, you wanted to do something fun. It’s true that you were already happy since you had the day to spend with him, but this could be the cherry on top before you had to go home. Earlier you went shopping for what he liked and paid for it while he wasn’t looking, despite all of his complaints and tired that definitely hurt your ears. Then the two of you went for ice cream and you teased him about mint flavor before deciding to get the cone. It gave you an idea to have a picnic date with him, minus the food since you already ate lunch together. But it was more than perfect to be with him, really!

“Taehyun,” you whined, “I’m bored! Don’t you think we should do anything better for your birthday?

“But it’s pretty,” he pouted, “I thought you liked doing weird stuff like this, you weirdo.”

Rolling your eyes, you picked at the blanket beneath you, kneading it between your fingers as you thought of what to do. “I do, but there has to be a much nicer thing to make your smile wider, you weirdo.”

He let out a huff of amusement, nodding his head along to your idea. “Then what do you think will do that?”

You snickered at his mocking words, swatting his arm away from you so you could get up. He let a grunt of refusal as he let go before you took his hand into yours. He got up soon after with a pearly smile you wouldn’t ever be able to erase from mind. Something like that every day would certainly boost your serotonin if you had to look at it 24/7.

“Hmm... how about we dance?” You shyly suggested, watching his face morph into a sincere smile. It was cheesy, you knew that, but you were hoping Taehyun would at least say yes considering it was his birthday and you wanted him to have fun instead of just looking out into the blue horizon. Not that you were complaining about that though.

“Dance?” He couldn’t help but laugh teasingly at your request, like you had spoken in a language he couldn’t understand. “I know you’re cheesy and all, but dance?! That’s way too-” he gasped when you took him by the hand and started to tug him into a round of slow dancing.

Thankfully you had already set on some light music going on earlier when you had arrived, and it played loud enough so only the two of you could hear it. The one that you heard currently- was it “Sakura Kiss” but the strings version? You recognized it as you watched Taehyun pretend to cringe when you wrapped your arms around him.

“You’re really weird, I have no clue why I even agreed to do this in the first place.” He stepped towards the back and you were careful not to step on his feet accidentally. Although, that would be pretty funny- not that you’re admitting it!

You just giggled at his words, and he slid his hands to your waist. It felt like sparks to you, pure electricity coursing through your veins the moment he pulled you closer to him. Actually, he was debating whether or not he should start to tickle you, but it would just ruin the moment. Little did you know that he actually wanted to go along with it, guiding you through the music so that you wouldn’t be too stiff when dancing with him.

“But you’re in love with this weirdo, huh?” He wouldn’t answer this one, you were sure. He’d say something about how corny it was and how you could’ve said anything else but that.

Instead he let one hand come away from your waist before slipping into one of yours.

“Yes, I absolutely am.”

Not only was Taehyun’s wish of being happy on that day came true, but he also got to experience really flying with you even when it wasn’t possible.

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

˚⁺‧. Kai: ˚⁺‧.

“What are you up to on a late night?”

Well, that’s what you were going to ask your best friend Kai until he so rudely crashed into your house at 1am through the kitchen window despite all of your whines not to do that since he could hurt himself and even worse- break the window itself. You shouldn’t have been surprised at this point when he peeked his head through the door of your room, but how could you not be when there wasn’t any racket downstairs as a sign he was making his grand appearance? And don’t get started on how the door just randomly creaked loudly, giving you a major heart attack that a thief entered your house!

All of your grumbling and rambling about how he should just go home and rest in his very comfy bed that you somehow accidentally slept in before wasn’t enough for him to leave and he decided to join you in your journey of rewatching Cinderella. You were pleased to have a partner who could make you laugh along the whole experience, but you weren’t sure what he was doing up so late. As it was mentioned above the time just reached 1am and once you were done with this movie, it’d probably be closer to three. Not to mention that it wasn’t safe to come out of his house during the night even if he lived a few houses away.

“Kai, what are you doing here?! Don’t you know how unsafe it is to just randomly pop in to my house at what gosh knows in the morning?” You threw one of the pillows you were laying on towards him, purposely knowing that it was his favorite whenever he came by. Obviously you weren’t going to say you cuddled it to sleep when you missed the boy who didn’t get the chances to visit you, and hopefully he wouldn’t notice how worn down it already was after a few months of use.

Kai just jumped into bed beside you, reaching out a hand to ruffle your hair.

“Ooh, looks like someone is worried for me~ don’t worry, I brought my favorite plushy to protect me just in case,” he winked at you but you ignored it, focusing on getting the movie on the TV screen instead.

“At least tell me a good reason. I might forgive you this once but it doesn’t mean I condone your actions.” Every time you said this, you forgave him when you really shouldn’t have. It only encouraged him to come all the more, and you knew that through and through. But still! He should really know how worried you get whenever he spontaneously plans his visits to see you!

Kai just sighed, and you could imagine the disappointed pout on his face. Stealing another glance at him, you weren’t shocked to find out he was doing the exact same thing like you expected. After all, you knew Kai for a really long time not to notice these adorable little habits about him.

“I’m just bored. And Tobin really wanted to see you this time!” He proudly showed the bunny plushy in front of you, and it made you smile a little bit before quickly wiping the effect off.

“Okay, fine,” you groaned, beckoning him to come cuddle up against you like he always did, “you can stay as long as you like but next time if you aren’t careful, I’m saying no.”

He gladly took the offer, clearly staying in agreement to your words as he snuggled beside you to wait for the movie to finally initiate.

“Ah, thank you, Y/N! I knew I could count on you to be up this late!”

Not even ten minutes passed by since he supposedly broke in like you called it, and heavy rain started to crash down onto the roof. It was nice for moods like this and the white noise of raindrops always managed to calm you down as well, but you were worried for when Kai wanted to go home. How would he get to his house without being soaked? It’d definitely create a wet mess. Well that is... unless he wanted to- no, you shouldn’t get ideas like this, assuming he’s uncomfortable with it!

But there really was no loss in trying, right? You braced yourself for the hard rejection you knew that was coming.

“You know,” you bashfully offered, throwing him another fluffy pillow from across the bed so he could get more cozy, “you don’t have to walk out in the rain like that once the movie is done. It’s raining cats and dogs out there. You can always just stay... with me.” You absolutely hated how your voice shriveled up to the end, showing how embarrassed you were to even ask him in the first place.

He caught it easily, holding it tight to his chest soon after. “You’re acting like I wasn’t going to do that. Why not spend a night with my favorite person in the whole world? Let’s have a sleepover, Y/N~!”

Didn’t he know what he was doing?! And oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, you couldn’t believe it- he actually said yes! But of course, with a few pitter-patter comments here and there.

What were you thinking? You felt all the hot blood rush to your face and you hid it with another pillow close by. Hoping he would’t hear anything, you just muttered how embarrassed you were to yourself but boy oh boy, he caught it all and grinned in endearment at how cute you were. You wouldn’t be able to see that smile on his face anyway, unfortunately not with the pillow you hid yourself with.

...

You had been so tangled in the story that you didn’t realize Kai was more focused on you compared to the movie. He would look up to the screen sometimes, however he couldn’t help but look back at you more than the film for some reason. It didn’t mean you didn’t check up on him from time to time to make sure he was feeling completely comfortable. You knew fully well that he was staring at you but you decided to ignore it. At first you thought he was just spacing out, but it was way too coincidental to be true.

The scene finally got to the part where Cinderella was dancing with Prince Charming, glass slippers and all. As a kid you were always fond of this moment because one day you wanted someone in your life like that. Whoever it may be, as long as they love you for who you really are then you’d be happy to call them your significant other. And yet, every single time you would always be faced with Kai in your mind whenever you dreamed of this.

“What are you staring at me for?”

“Oh, nothing,” he taunted with a mocking voice before taking your hand into his. Then without a warning, he tugged you up from beside him, pulling you in front of the screen. You laughed at how sudden it was, and cautioned at him a little bit.

“Kai! Gosh, at least give me a warning before you pull me up,” you whisper-shouted, being careful enough not to create too much noise. Luckily the rain was able to replace the sound of both of you getting up from the creaky bed, serving as another distraction for your parents not to know your best friend was in the room.

As you watched him in confusion, he made no sound grabbing your hands so they’d wrap just below his neck. You asked him what he was doing quietly a few times when he simply shut you down like that, his hands naturally trailing down to your waist as if he was planning something.

When he was done with the finishing dances of preparing the both of you, he noticed you were distracted in Cinderella and the prince dancing and leaned your attention towards him again by grasping your cheek in his right hand.

“Come on,” he shot you another charming grin that sent your heart into a mayhem, “let’s slow dance.”

You gulped instinctively, nodding your head slowly.

“O-oh, sure...”

You couldn’t allow yourself to say no. How could you say no when your heart was screaming yes and with him so close to you than he’d ever been? You weren’t the best at slow dancing when you had to cooperate with a partner, but he made it quite easy for you. Although, it wasn’t a big surprise when he could do anything he put his mind to. Kai was simply an excellent musician- he got the hang of the beat so you just followed his lead, letting him sway gently to the sweet song.

The moment was magnificently magical, enough so that you wanted it to last forever. Eye contact was a bit much for you- especially when you were starting to have forbidden feelings for a friend who most likely doesn’t reciprocate the same ones- but somehow, you found the strength to keep looking at him without quivering up into a nervous ball. As the song played, you memorized every detail of his face as you could, counting his eyelashes to sketching how perfect his nose was in your mind. You were so lucky to have him in your life... you really couldn’t imagine a day without knowing he was there for you.

The rest of the song finished, but you knew he didn’t want to let go just yet. No other words were spoken but with his eyes that followed yours, you were able to tell how much you meant to him. More than a friend or just a friend? You weren’t sure at all, but you knew one thing. With the way he gazed at you- and perhaps you were deluding yourself when you thought this- it was clear to see that his stare was fill of enamor and love towards you and you only. He could’ve been watching the rain fall from outside and race against the windows, yet it seemed like he never wanted to look away either.

Your heart swelled in joy with this, but... at the same time...

When were you ever going to tell him these growing feelings? When were you going to let him know before you inevitably fell in love even deeper? How were you going to do it with all these insecurities of whether he likes you back or not weighing down? There were too many questions for you to really take. In all of this thinking while beside him- you couldn’t be for sure, however you weren’t going to rush yourself because there was still an eternity to spend with him right by your side like he promised.

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

Posted: 4/8/21- 2:15am

(OKAY SO LIKE IK I WROTE 9k WORDS FOR THIS SO?? IM SO SORRY IF YOU GOT BORED 😭😭 I ACCIDENTALLY USED ALL THE BIG BRAIN WRITING FOR THIS REQUEST OMG 🧍🧍 also peep me posting this at 2am when i said i was supposed to sleep at 11pm)

Tags:

#txt fluff #txt angst #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt reactions #txt oneshot #*｡『 keah’s requests !』｡*

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sgt-paul · 3 years

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Paul McCartney Is Still Trying to Figure Out Love – The New York Times Magazine

By David Marchese, Nov. 29, 2020

Paul McCartney, like the rest of us, this year found himself with an unexpected amount of time stuck indoors. Unlike the rest of us — or most of us, anyway — he used that time to record a new album. The pandemic-induced circumstances of its creation may mark “McCartney III” as an outlier in the former Beatle’s catalog, but as its title suggests, it does have precedents: Like “McCartney” (1970) and “McCartney II” (1980), the album, out Dec. 18, was primarily recorded by McCartney alone, with him playing nearly all the instruments and handling all the production. “At no point,” McCartney said, “did I think: I’m making an album. I’d better be serious. This was more like: You’re locked down. You can do whatever the hell you want.” Which was a gas, as always. “What I’m amazed with,” McCartney explained, “is that I’m not fed up with music. Because, strictly speaking, I should have gotten bored years ago.”

It seems to me that working on music by yourself, as you did on the new album, might allow for some insights about what you do and how you do it. So are there aspects of “McCartney III” that represent creative growth to you?

The idea of growing and adding more arrows to your bow is nice, but I’m not sure if I’m interested in it. The thing is, when I look back to “Yesterday,” which was written when I was 21 or something, there’s me talking like a 90-year-old: “Suddenly I’m not half the man I used to be.” Things like that and “Eleanor Rigby” have a kind of wisdom. You would naturally think, OK, as I get older I’m going to get deeper, but I’m not sure that’s true. I think it’s a fact of life that personalities don’t change much. Throughout your life, there you are.

Is there anything different about the nature of your musical gift today at 78 than in 1980 or 1970 or when you first started writing songs?

It’s the story that you’re telling. That changes. When I first said to John, “I’ve written a few songs,” they were simple. My first song was called “I Lost My Little Girl” — four chords. Then we went into the next phase of songwriting, which was talking to our fans. Those were songs like “Thank You Girl,” “Love Me Do,” “Please Please Me.” Then came a rich vein as we got more mature, with things like “Let It Be,” “The Long and Winding Road.” But basically I think it’s all the same, and you get lucky sometimes. Like, “Let It Be” came from a dream where my mother had said that phrase. “Yesterday” came from a dream of a melody. I’m a great believer in dreams. I’m a great rememberer of dreams.

What’s the last interesting dream you had?

Last night’s was pretty good.

What was it?

It was of a sexual nature, so I’m not sure it’s good for the Kids section. Pretty cool, though. Very interesting, dreams of a sexual nature when you’re married. Because your married head is in the dream saying: “Don’t do this. Don’t go here.” And just to let you know, I didn’t. It was still a good dream.

You know, I was conscious of not mentioning the Beatles early in this interview, and you’ve already mentioned them a few times. So let me ask you: The band broke up 50 years ago. You were in it for roughly 10 years. When you’re not doing interviews or playing concerts, how central to your own story of your life are those 10 years from half a century ago?

Very. It was a great group. That’s commonly acknowledged.

Generally speaking.

[Laughs.] It’s like your high school memories — those are my Beatles memories. This is the danger: At a dinner party, I am liable to tell stories about my life, and people already know them. I can see everyone stifling a yawn. But the Beatles are inescapable. My daughter Mary will send me a photo or a text a few times a week: “There you were on an advert” or “I heard you on the radio.” The thing that amazes me now, because of my venerable age, is that I will be with, like, one of New York’s finest dermatologists, and he will be a rabid Beatles fan. All of that amazes me. We were trying to get known, we were trying to do good work and we did it. So to me, it’s all happy memories.

“McCartney III” will come out very close to the 40th anniversary of John Lennon’s death. Has your processing of what happened to him changed over the years?

It’s difficult for me to think about. I rerun the scenario in my head. Very emotional. So much so that I can’t really think about it. It kind of implodes. What can you think about that besides anger, sorrow? Like any bereavement, the only way out is to remember how good it was with John. Because I can’t get over the senseless act. I can’t think about it. I’m sure it’s some form of denial. But denial is the only way that I can deal with it. Having said that, of course I do think about it, and it’s horrible. You do things to help yourself out of it. I did an interview with Sean, his son. That was nice — to talk about how cool John was and fill in little gaps in his knowledge. So it’s little things that I am able to do, but I know that none of them can get over the hill and make it OK. But you know, after he was killed, he was taken to Frank Campbell’s funeral parlor in New York. I’m often passing that. I never pass it without saying: “All right, John. Hi, John.”

And how about your perspective on the work you did together? Has that changed?

I always thought it was good. I still think it’s good. Sometimes I had to reassure him that it was good. I remember one time he said to me: “What are they going to think of me when I’m dead? Am I going to be remembered?” I felt like the older brother, even though he was older than me. I said: “John, listen to me. You are going to be so remembered. You are so [expletive] great that there’s no way that this disappears.” I guess that was a moment of insecurity on his part. He straightened me up on other occasions. It was a great collaboration. I can’t think of any better collaboration, and there have been millions. I feel very lucky. We happened upon each other in Liverpool through a friend of mine, Ivan Vaughan. Ivan said, “I think you’d like this mate of mine.” Everyone’s lives have magic, but that guy putting me and John together and then George getting on a bus — an awful lot of coincidences had to happen to make the Beatles.

People always ask you about John. I’ve noticed they rarely ask about George, who of course also died relatively young.

John is probably the one in the group you would remember, but the circumstances of his death were particularly harrowing. When you die horrifically, you’re remembered more. But I like your point, which is: What about George? I often think of George because he was my little buddy. I was thinking the other day of my hitchhiking bursts. This was before the Beatles. I suddenly was keen on hitchhiking, so I sold this idea to George and then John.

I know this memory. You and George hitchhiked to Paignton.

Yeah, Exeter and Paignton. We did that, and then I also hitchhiked with John. He and I got as far as Paris. What I was thinking about was — it’s interesting how I was the instigator. Neither of them came to me and said, “Should we go hitchhiking?” It was me, like, “I’ve got this great idea.”

Why is that interesting?

My theory is that attitude followed us into our recording career. Everyone was hanging out in the sticks, and I used to ring them up and say, “Guys, it’s time for an album.” Then we’d all come in, and they’d all be grumbling. “He’s making us work.” We used to laugh about it. So the same way I instigated the hitchhiking holidays, I would put forward ideas like, “It’s time to make an album.” I don’t remember Ringo, George or John ever ringing me up and saying that.

How strange is it to share an idle recollection from your youth, as you just did with that hitchhiking story, and then have the person to whom you’re sharing it — in this case, me — know the memory? It seems as though it would be weird.

It’s quite annoying, David. It’s like people at dinner yawning when I’m telling stories. This keeps happening to me.

I even know the details. You and George slept on the beach.

That’s right.

Some Salvation Army girls kept you warm.

Yes.

Then at some point you sat on a car battery and zapped your ass?

That was George who did that! I have a very clear recollection. He showed me the scar. Let’s set the record straight: It was George’s ass, and it was a burn the exact shape of a zip from his jeans.

Do you remember the last thing George said to you?

We said silly things. We were in New York before he went to Los Angeles to die, and they were silly but important to me. And, I think, important to him. We were sitting there, and I was holding his hand, and it occurred to me — I’ve never told this — I don’t want to hold George’s hand. You don’t hold your mate’s hands. I mean, we didn’t anyway. And I remember he was getting a bit annoyed at having to travel all the time — chasing a cure. He’d gone to Geneva to see what they could do. Then he came to a special clinic in New York to see what they could do. Then the thought was to go to L.A. and see what they could do. He was sort of getting a bit, “Can’t we just stay in one place?” And I said: “Yes, Speke Hall. Let’s go to Speke Hall.” That was one of the last things we said to each other, knowing that he would be the only person in the room who would know what Speke Hall was. You probably know what the hell it is.

Yep.

I can’t amaze you with anything! Anyway, the nice thing for me when I was holding George’s hands, he looked at me, and there was a smile.

How many good Beatles stories are there left to tell that haven’t been told?

There are millions. Sometimes the reason is that they’re too private, and I don’t want to go gossiping. But the main stories do get told and told again.

Can you think of one now that you haven’t told before?

Hmm. I will rake through the embers. Oh, I’ll tell you one! I thought of one this morning. It’s pretty good. I don’t think I’ve told it. You’re going to have to say in the article, “I forced this out of him,” because it’s a bit telling-out-of-school.

I am hereby twisting your arm.

So when we did the album “Abbey Road,” the photographer was set up and taking the pictures that ended up as the album cover. Linda was also there taking incidental pictures. She has some that are of us — I think it was all four of us — sitting on the steps of Abbey Road studios, taking a break from the session, and I’m in quite earnest conversation with John. This morning I thought, I remember why. John’s accountants had rung my accountants and said: “Someone’s got to tell John he’s got to fill in his tax returns. He’s not doing it.” So I was trying to say to him, “Listen, man, you’ve got to do this.” I was trying to give him the sensible advice on not getting busted for not doing your taxes. That’s why I looked so earnest. I don’t think I’ve told that story before.

Tax filings — that’s some deep arcana.

I have dredged the barrel.

I know that your goal with making music is to do something that pleases yourself. What’s most pleasing to you on the new album?

I’m very happy with “Women and Wives.” I’ve been reading a book about Lead Belly. I was looking at his life and thinking about the blues scene of that day. I love that tone of voice and energy and style. So I was sitting at my piano, and I’m thinking about Huddie Ledbetter, and I started noodling around in the key of D minor, and this thing came to me. “Hear me women and wives” — in a vocal tone like what I imagine a blues singer might make. I was taking clues from Lead Belly, from the universe, from blues. And why I’m pleased with it is because the lyrics are pretty good advice. It’s advice I wouldn’t mind getting myself.

There’s a song on “McCartney III,” “Pretty Boys,” that is kind of unusual for you in how the music is sort of unassuming but the lyrics have an almost sinister edge. What inspired that one?

I’ll tell you exactly. I’ve been photographed by many photographers through the years. And when you get down to London, doing sessions with people like David Bailey, they can get pretty energetic in the studio. It’s like “Blow-Up,” [the director Michelangelo Antonioni’s 1966 film thriller about a fashion photographer, thought to be loosely based on David Bailey] you know? “Give it to me! [Expletive] the lens!” And it’s like: “What? No, I’m not going to.” But I understand why they’re doing that. They’re that kind of artist. So you allow it. Certain photographers — they tend to be very good photographers, by the way — can be totally out of line in the studio. So “Pretty Boys” is about male models. And going around New York or London, you see the lines of bicycles for hire. It struck me that they’re like models, there to be used. It’s most unfortunate.

“Lavatory Lil” is another song I was curious about. That’s quite a title.

“Lavatory Lil” is a parody of someone I didn’t like. Someone I was working with who turned out to be a bit of a baddie. I thought things were great; it turned nasty. So I made up the character Lavatory Lil and remembered some of the things that had gone on and put them in the song. I don’t need to be more specific than that. I will never divulge who it was.

I have another bigger-picture question. In your experience, how is the love in a marriage different at different stages of your life and in different marriages?

I don’t think it’s different. It’s always a splendid puzzle. Even though I write love songs, I don’t think I know what’s going on. It would be great if it was smooth and wonderful all the time, but you get pockets of that, and sometimes it’s — you could be annoying. To Nancy I’m pretty complex, with everything I’ve been through.

In what ways?

I’m some poor working-class kid from Liverpool. I’ve done music all my life. I’ve had huge success, and people often try to do what I want, so you get a false feeling of omnipotence. All that together makes a complex person. We’re all complex. Well, maybe I’m more complex than other people because of coming from poverty.

And how do you think about money these days?

It has obviously changed. What has stayed the same is the central core. When I was in Liverpool as a kid, I used to listen to people’s conversations. I remember a couple of women going on about money: “Ah, me and my husband, we’re always arguing about money.” And I remember thinking very consciously, “OK, I’ll solve that; I will try to get money.” That set me off on the “Let’s not have too many problems with money” trail. What happened also was, not having much money, when anything came into the house, it was important. It was important when my weekly comic was delivered. Or my penpal — I had a penpal in Spain, Rodrigo — when his letter came through, that was a big event. When they had giveaways in comics with little trinkets, I kept them all. Some people would say that’s a hoarding instinct, but not having anything when I was a kid has stuck with me as far as money. You know, I’m kind of crazy. My wife is not. She knows you can get rid of things you don’t need.

You’re a hoarder?

I’m a keeper. If I go somewhere and I get whatever I bought in a nice bag, I will want to keep the bag. My rationale is that I might want to put my sandwiches in it tomorrow. Whereas Nancy says, “We’ll get another bag.” In that way, my attitude toward money hasn’t changed that much. It’s the same instinct to preserve. One of the great things now about money is what you can do with it. Family and friends, if they have any medical problem, I can just say, “I’ll help.” The nicest thing about having money is you can help people with it.

Something that has been a constant for you musically is your ability to keep coming up with melodies. It’s there on the new album — the melodies all flow. Is your facility for writing a catchy melody ever an obstacle to getting the songs to be more than just catchy? Because a good tune by itself is not always enough to make a good song. “Bip Bop” would be an example of that. Do you know what I’m saying?

No, I know. “Bip Bop” is not lyrically stunning. I was always embarrassed about that song. Literally, it goes, “Bip Bop / take your bottom dollar.” It’s inconsequential. But I mentioned that to a friend, a producer, a few years ago, and he said, “That’s my favorite song of yours.” So you don’t know what people like. It’s enough if I like it and enjoyed putting it on record and don’t particularly want to think of any more lyrics. I don’t want to sweat it. Sometimes maybe it would be better if I sweated it. Once or twice I tried to sweat it, and I hated it. It’s like, What are you doing this for?

Sixty-something years into writing songs, do you feel any closer to knowing where melodies come from?

No. There is something with my ability to write music that I don’t think I’m necessarily responsible for. It just seems to come easier to me — touch wood — than it does to some people. That’s it. I’m a fortunate man.

#paul mccartney #old paul #grandpaul #*m #(the start of the interview was pretty worrying (with him bringing up yesterday like after 5 seconds) but actually?#it turned out to be a decent one)#favourite bit hands down paul's dirty dreams. DUDE... he cannot keep it in his pants even when he is in his dreams #well actually he said he did but lmao #but yeah many other great bits. ''i'm a keeper'' ... loved that one #the complex man rant #and the john and george bits #him being the instigator #!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love this guy :)

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babygurlkamya · 4 years

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Can’t Get You Out Of My Head (Luke Patterson x OC)

Luke Patterson x OC

Description: Los Feliz high school is a school full with extremely talented kids. Most of the students at this school could sing, dance, play an instrument, or all three. Anastasia Madden was of the few students that could do all three. Anastasia was known around the school for being a varsity cheerleader and one of the members of Dirty Candy (Which has honestly never shown her real singing talent). Anastasia never cared about being popular and likable to people it just happened. Anastasia never cared about being popular and likable to people it just happened. When her friend Julie Molina lost her mom and stopped playing music it hurt Anastasia to see her like that. Anastasia, Flynn, and their former friend Carrie tried their best to help Julie. Carrie started to distance herself from them and soon took the spot first chair and in music class. After Julie fails to play in music class and runs out in fear. Anastasia decides to hang out at the Molina’s household to check up on her. Ray(Julie’s dad) asks them to help out cleaning Julie’s mom’s studio. They find a CD in a box and decides to play it to help them clean. When they play the CD three boys appear in Julie’s studio. What will happen?

Warning: Swearing, mention of dangerous activity

Word count: 1,754

A/N: This does go along with the actual show so please know that. Anastasia is an beautiful WOC with dyed red hair and brown eyes. She is also 5′5. I believe that is all you need to know.

——————𖠄———————

Los Feliz high school is a school filled with extremely talented kids. Most of the students at this school could sing, dance, play an instrument, or all three. Anastasia Madden was of the few students that could do all three. Anastasia was known around the school for being a varsity cheerleader and one of the members of Dirty Candy (Which has honestly never shown her real singing talent). Anastasia never cared about being popular and likable to people; it just happened. When her friend Julie Molina lost her mom and stopped playing music it hurt Anastasia to see her like that. Anastasia, Flynn, and their former friend Carrie tried their best to help Julie. Carrie started to distance herself from them and soon took the spot first chair and in music class. After Julie fails to play in music class and runs out in fear. Anastasia decides to hang out at Molina's household to check up on her. Ray(Julie’s dad) asks them to help out cleaning Julie’s mom’s studio. They find a CD in a box and decide to play it to help them clean. When they play the CD three boys appear in Julie’s studio. What will happen? But let’s backtrack to the beginning of today.

As the bell rings to signal the end of class. Anastasia was seen walking down the hallways heading to her locker in her blush pink dress and her letterman jacket. A couple of people would walk up to her while she was walking to her locker to say hi. She would reply to them and smile. As she made it to her locker, a Puerto Rican with brown curly hair, wearing clothes like she didn’t want to be noticed today walked up to the locker next to her.

“Hey, Julies.” Anastasia greeted as she opened her locker.

“Hey, Ms. Cheerleader,” said Julie, smiling at her.

Anastasia giggles before saying, “you know I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“I know but you are a cheerleader so…”

A girl in colorful clothing walks up to the two girls. “Hey, Underachiever.” As their friend Flynn referred to Julie. “Hey, Overachiever.” referring to Anastasia.

“Hey, disappointment.” Julie and Anastasia replied with smiles on their face.

“Okay, I know you don’t want me to ask you this, but have you figured out what you’re gonna do today?” Flynn questioned.

“I’ll know in the moment,” Julie answered.

Anastasia frowned. “Girl, come on. We got to know something.” Anastasia looked down knowing that Julie had been through a lot after her mom passed. She had never seen her so down. Anastasia knew how much Julie’s mom meant to Julie. Julie’s mom meant so much to Anastasia her mom taught her how to play the piano and the guitar. She would spend the weekends hanging out at Julie’s house making music together. It was their favorite pastime.

“Really, Julies? That’s all you’re giving me? Ms. Harrison said this is your last chance.” Flynn urged with worry seeping into her tone.

“I know, I was there,” said Julie.

“See you at the rally,” said a distinctive voice the three girls knew too well. A blonde girl wearing a two-piece pink top and skirt, handing out flyers to the people around her.

“Ugh, what is she handing out?” Flynn asked.

“Oh, I forgot we’re performing at the rally tomorrow,” Anastasia mumbled.

Flynn looked at her glaring before turning back around.

“Desperation, no offense Ana.” Guessed Julie.

“I don’t blame you, I would say the same thing,” Anastasia replied, smirking.

Carrie walked up to the three girls handing Julie and Flynn flyers. “Here you go. My group’s performing at the spirit rally tomorrow. I’m sure you guys have nothing better to do. Am I right Anastasia?”

“I’m pretty sure they would only show up just to see me,” Anastasia replied, rolling her eyes at the blonde.

Flynn, ignoring the comment from Anastasia, is annoyed that she still hasn’t quit Carrie’s group “Dirty Candy.” “Oh my gosh, Carrie, thanks!” Flynn exclaimed in a fake excited tone.

Carrie put her hand on her chest faking to be hurt. “Oh my gosh, Flynn, don’t bother coming!”

“She didn’t mean that,” said Anastasia.

“Oh yes I did, Anastasia,” said Carrie smirking before turning around and walking handing more flyers out to people. Flynn crumpled up her flyer in her fist. Anastasia took Julie’s flyer out her hand knowing good and well she wasn’t going to go. She looked at Julie for a second before looking at what she was or should I whom she was staring at, which happened to be Carrie’s boyfriend.

“Nick?” Flynn questioned. “Still? You know they’re gonna get married and have a bunch of unholy babies.”

“Nick’s a sweetheart,” Julie argued.

“Yeah, you’d actually have to talk to him to know that.” Anastasia quickly replied.

“True and only one of them has to be a demon to make a demon baby.” Flynn looks right at Carrie before shouting “Demon!” Carrie looks at the three girls. The three girls turned away quickly laughing.

Flynn pointed to Julie’s face. “There’s that smile. Now let’s go prove everybody wrong.”

Julie and Anastasia closed their lockers, all three of them walked to music class. They sat down next to each other and waited for the class to begin. Ms. Harrison walked into the room telling all of the students who would be performing today. Flynn and Anastasia had gone the day prior. Mrs. Harrison had called up Nick to perform first, who absolutely killed it on the electric guitar. Everyone in the class had clapped for him after he had finished.

“Nick job, Nick,” Ms. Harrison praised. “Almost as impressive as your game against Glendale.

Nick and a couple of his lacrosse friends chuckled. Anastasia had also chuckled as she was there at the game cheering for the school lacrosse team.

“Okay, we have one last performance,” Ms. Harrison announced while Nick went to unplug his guitar. “Julie.”

Julie looked up nervously. She had stood and placed the hat she was wearing on the chair. Anastasia and Flynn quickly glanced at each other in concern as they watched Julie slowly approach the grand piano in the classroom. Julie slowly placed her sheet music down on top of the piano as she sat down. Anastasia and Flynn gave Julie thumbs up as in encouragement.

“Take your time,” Ms. Harrison told Julie softly

Julie took a deep breath, she opened the piano to reveal the keys. She placed her fingers on the keys gently before quickly retracting them. Flynn and Anastasia’s eyes widened as they both stood up worrying about Julie.

Julie got to her and shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Is this when we clap?” Carrie questioned.

Ms. Harrison turned and gave Carrie a look. Julie rushed out of the room and into the hallways.

“Watch it, Carrie,” Flynn scolding Carrie before running after Julie.

“That was a really bitchy move, Carrie, even for you,” said Anastasia.

“Ms. Madden, Language,” said Ms. Harrison, scolding Anastasia.

“Sorry, is it okay if--”

Ms. Harrison nodded knowing what she was about to ask and soon motioning her to go after the girls. Anastasia quickly ran after her two best friends. As she made out to the hallways she could Flynn talking to Julie.

“Julie! Girl, you better get back up there and you show them you can sing!”

Anastasia finally made over to them. “We all know you can do it, Julie!”

“I’ve tried for myself, I’ve tried for Ms. Harrison, I’ve tried for you two, I’ve tried for Dad, and I’ve tried for Mom. For a whole year, I’ve been trying. But I can’t do this anymore… I can’t…..I’m done.” Julie cried to the two girls. Anastasia looked down trying to hold back tears knowing this was hurting her too. Julie turned and ran out of the door.

“Julie!” The girls called out for her but it was too late she was already gone. Flynn and Anastasia both sat down at the steps holding each other worried for their friend.

——————𖠄———————

“Okay, everyone. Time to get in your stunting groups.” Said Anastasia cheer coach. Anastasia took a deep breath before heading her stunt group. She had been completely messing up since practice started. The only thing on her mind. She was lucky that she had cheered as one of her classes today and didn’t have to stay after school.

“Hey, Ana, are you okay?” asked a brunette girl named Ashley.

“Not really, Ash. Do you think I could trade your stop today and back spot? I don’t feel in the right mindset to fly today.”

“Oh sure, I do need more practice on it anyways.”

Anastasia gives her a weak smile. After practicing for 20 minutes their coach comes up to the group of 4.

“Ana, I haven’t seen you stunt yet. Can you and Ashley switch? I really want to see what you have been working on.

“Yes, Coach.” The girls switched positions as they did so that their coach gave them the idea of doing a basket toss. Anastasia’s eyes widened as she was completely nervous to try the move knowing that was going to have her be completely focused even though she really wasn’t. They warm up for a good five minutes before trying it the first time the head almost did it correctly if it wasn’t for Ari messing up at the beginning. They tried it again but it didn’t go so well they wound up dropping her. Anastasia screamed as she fell. The coach runs up to her as the rest of the team does as well.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Coach. I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt. It was my fault. I wasn’t focused, don’t blame it on them.”

“Don’t worry about who is at fault. Right now I need my star flyer healthy. Go to the nurse and let her check you. When she lets you go you can go home and get some rest. Can you do that for me?” said her coach with concern in her voice.

“Yeah, I can do that.” Anastasia gets up and grabs her stuff and heads to the nurse’s office. The nurse said her right leg and her arms were just bruised and she would just be fine if she iced it. She walks out the office getting a message for her mom saying she was going to pick up with her stuff to sleepover at the Molina’s.

——————𖠄———————

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy the first part of this series. I’m currently editing part 2 and working on part 3. Hopefully part 2 will be out later tonight! Feedback would be so helpful. Let’s me know if you would like to be add to the taglist!!-Mya

Taglist: @taehyungsrealgucciwife

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bosspigeon · 3 years

Text

the idealistic things i believed

Pairing: M!Detective/Adam du Mortain

Words: 2723

Summary: After misplacing their detective on one of his rare days off, Unit Bravo track him down to the local park, where they find him engaging in an unexpected activity.

And Adam just finds him engaging ;3c

I will not apologize for that dumb joke. TL;DR I just wanted to write about my big sad goth boy and also Adam’s Intense Denial. EXTREMELY last minute title from “No Sunlight” by Death Cab For Cutie

(Note: in my first post, tumblr seems to have shuffled some paragraphs, so i’m reposting to fix it!!! Love this Fully Functional Website!!!)

“You know, Adam, if you ever leave the Agency, you could probably get a job as a private investigator. Maybe even a bloodhound! Just something to think about.”

When Adam actually deigns to look at him, Felix is grinning, hands tucked into his pockets and chin tipped up. Adam rolls his eyes and sighs heavily.

Nate stifles a chuckle under his humming along to the music drifting from the nearby pavilion, where they now know Detective Priestley to be, thanks to Adam tracking him down.

After‌ ‌working with Arlo (the detective, he forcefully amends) ‌for‌ ‌so‌ ‌many‌ ‌months,‌ ‌Adam‌ ‌is‌ ‌deeply‌ ‌attuned‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌scent‌ ‌of‌ ‌him.‌ ‌It‌ ‌is‌ ‌easy‌ ‌enough‌ ‌to‌ ‌find‌ ‌his‌ ‌trail‌ ‌and‌ ‌follow‌ ‌it,‌ ‌which,‌ ‌contrary‌ ‌to‌ ‌Felix’s‌ ‌snide‌ ‌comment,‌ ‌is‌ ‌not‌ ‌unusual‌ ‌in‌ ‌their‌ ‌line‌ ‌of‌ ‌work.‌ ‌Relying‌ ‌on‌ ‌their‌ ‌senses‌ ‌has‌ ‌helped‌ ‌them‌ ‌track‌ ‌down‌ ‌many‌ ‌targets‌ ‌in‌ ‌their‌ ‌time‌ ‌as‌ ‌a‌ ‌unit, so Adam does not see the need for Felix to single him out. If anything, Mason would have fared better, seeing as his senses were the strongest of them all. But Mason’s aversion to sunlight, as well as the sounds and smells of a busy weekend at Wayhaven’s Municipal Gardens had proven to be difficult to manage, so Adam took over.

This all could have been avoided had Detective Priestley simply told them he wouldn’t be at home today. Even Agent Priestley had been confused, as her son tended to prefer staying at home on his rare off days.

But, no, he left without telling anyone, and with the recent increase in trapper activity, his mother was keen for at least one of them to keep an eye on him. As the rest of them were unoccupied, Nate was happy to turn it into a “day out.”

At least he seems pleased.

The pavilion is partially screened by a line of tall, tidy, flowering hedges, and the scent of them is thick on the gentle breeze that carries the detective’s low, gentle voice, accompanied by airy instrumental music, as well as a chorus of smaller voices, high-pitched with youthful enthusiasm. The four of them skirt the hedges to find the pavilion’s entrance, and stop to take in the odd sight.

Detective Priestley stands tall and proud at the front of a staggered group of small children, none of whom reach higher than his waist. He is simply dressed in a loose tank top and joggers, his hair braided back to keep it out of his face and a pair of thick-framed glasses perched on his strong nose. The children mimic his posture to varying degrees of success, most of them dressed in similar loose athletic clothing, some in frilly tutus. On a table behind him, his phone is hooked up to a set of speakers that play light, upbeat classical music that Nate obviously not only recognizes, but approves of, as he hums happily and waggles his fingers as if he is directing the symphony.

“Alright,” the detective says, his voice clear and strong, but endlessly gentle, “is everyone ready?”

A chorus of little voices call out an enthusiastic “Yes!”

“Good! First position?” Arlo waits, watching the children quickly position their feet, some of them looking down to make very sure they’re correctly placed. Once the majority of them are in position, he takes the position himself, easily and confidently. The few of them who struggled at first quickly mimic him, and he beams, a strange expression to see on the normally reserved man. “Perfect! Now… second position?”

He repeats the process, waiting for most of them to take the position before he does himself, and allows the rest of them to adjust.

As he guides them through the next, and the next, Nate swats at Mason’s arm and hisses at him to put out his cigarette, which he does with a hearty eye roll. Felix has begun attempting the positions himself, grinning all the while, and Adam is watching the spectacle with his head cocked.

The detective puts them through their paces with a quiet, confident patience, and the children are not only delighted, but clearly well-practiced, even as young as they are. They are also all clearly familiar and comfortable with Detective Priestley, which indicates they are used to being in his care. Once he’s finished with the warm-up routine, he takes a few long steps back, and squares his broad shoulders, falling almost instinctively into what he displayed for the children as third position.

“Alright, so we’re going to go over some things that I taught you last time. I’m going to show you the moves, and we’re going to see if you can tell me what they’re called. Does that sound good?”

There is an exuberant cry of agreement that makes Mason wince, and he stalks away to stand in the shade of a copse of trees, re-lighting the cigarette Nate had him put out.

The detective rises easily onto his toes on one foot, lifting the opposite leg and raising one arm skyward. The motion is effortlessly graceful in a way that is surprising of a man so tall. Adam is entirely entranced, frozen until Arlo drops the pose and smiles at his little class. “Alright, who can tell me what that was?”

The children clamor to answer, hands shooting into the air and waving furiously, with little shouts of “Oh, me! Pick me, Arlo!”

He points to one little girl with her bright ginger hair in braids. “Maisie?” he asks.

“An arabesque!” she practically shouts, loud enough to make Felix grin. The detective laughs warmly, and something strange settles deep into Adam’s gut.

“Good!” the detective says. “Alright, we’ll try a harder one this time, since you’re all so sharp.”

A few of the little ones giggle delightedly and cover their faces, murmuring together and beaming.

He falls into position again, breathing deeply, walking across the pavilion. As he passes the entrance, his eyes catch Adam’s over the heads of his class, and they widen briefly. He pauses, almost stumbling, for just a split second, his ears going faintly red. Adam can hear the sound of his heart, the rush of his blood, even from several feet away. But he breaks eye contact, shakes his head, straightens his posture, and spins to face the far railing, standing parallel to the group of children watching him with rapt attention. And then he rushes forward and leaps into the air, arms raised and long legs outstretched, practically floating across the pavilion, and when he lands, it is on one foot with an assured lightness that hardly makes a sound on the hardwood floor. He spins to face the children, and pointedly does not look at the three vampires blinking at him in stunned silence. His chest is rising and falling a bit more quickly than it was before, his freckled cheeks flushed, but otherwise he looks at ease.

“How about that one?” he asks, smiling.

The children seem less assured of this one, whispering amongst themselves before a little boy with his spiraling curls held out of his face with a colorful strip of cloth calls, “A real big jump!”

A tiny girl with huge dark eyes raises her hand and tremulously asks, “Mister Arlo, are you an angel? ‘Cause you just flew!”

He laughs, sharp and startled and louder than Adam’s ever heard him, beaming so wide his cheeks must surely ache with it. “No, I’m not, but thank you for the compliment,” he chuckles, pale eyes twinkling. “And, actually, Jacobe, you’re not far off. That was called a grand jeté. It means big throw.”

“‘Cause you throw yourself into the air?” the dark-eyed girl asks, still gawking at him like she doesn’t quite believe his not being an angel. Adam thinks, quite without his permission, that he is not entirely convinced himself.

Arlo smiles wider. “Not quite. It’s because you throw one leg out in a certain direction while keeping the other in a particular position when you land.” He does a smaller leap as an example, one that he easily segues into another leg of the lesson, and he leads them all in a quick practice run of several beginner’s forms and moves, letting them prance and bounce and spin across the pavilion, all the while guiding them with the same moves, but on a wider, more sweeping scale with his much larger frame. He looks rather like a lean, graceful bird followed by an eager flock of awkward, but enthusiastic, fledglings, and he effusively praises and gently corrects them, occasionally taking one aside to ease them through moves they struggle with. Each and every one looks up at him as if he hung the moon and stars, sweetly awed by this gentle giant of a human, and when he finally pulls away from them, he leaves an older boy who looks to be around ten to oversee their practice.

He hurries towards Unit Bravo, and his posture immediately changes when he is out of line of sight of his little class, from strong and tall and carefully poised, to hunching, sheepish, and fidgety. “What are you all doing here?” he hisses, glancing over Adam’s head to, presumably, catch sight of Mason lurking under the trees a ways away.

“You’re a ballerina?” Felix blurts, and a vivid red crawls up the detective’s chest and neck to stain his ears and cheeks. The warm rush of it almost makes Adam dizzy.

“No,” he blurts, casting a quick look over his shoulder to make sure he hasn’t interrupted his students. “I was a dancer. A long time ago.”

“Since when?” Felix presses, practically bouncing with the excitement of discovery.

“I went to art school!” he blurts, dragging a hand down his face. “It wasn’t my major or anything, but...” He twitches under the attention, and the flush to his skin clings stubbornly. Prettily.

“Well, you’re clearly very talented,” Nate offers, smiling reassuringly.

“You did not tell Agent Priestley you wouldn’t be home,” Adam finally manages to interject, finding his voice and almost instantly regretting it when the man flinches at his sharp tone. “You should not have left without letting one of us know.”

Arlo rubs anxiously at one arm, the dark band of black ink twisting around his bicep, looking away and down towards his feet. Adam follows his gaze, down to his clearly worn but well taken care of black leather flats. “I’m sorry, I forgot. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to hold a lesson, and the kids were starting to get antsy about it. I was getting a lot of calls, and I figured since things had settled down a bit, I could get back to it.”

Nate quickly interjects before Adam can say anything, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop whatever words (almost certain to be abrasive, even Adam can admit) are about to come. “Of course, perfectly understandable! We wouldn’t want to get in the way of your plans, we just need to know where you are with things still so,” he pinches his lips shut, glancing towards the dancing children, “precarious.”

“It’s usually Sundays, if I can swing it,” Arlo offers sheepishly. “They have a regular teacher, Mrs. Golightly, but sometimes she asks me to fill in because the kids like me. They’ve missed me.” He smiles, tense and strained. “And, I mean, I’ve missed them a lot too. It’s nice to focus on something that’s not, y’know…” He rubs at the side of his neck, thumbing habitually over faint, raised white lines.

Adam clenches his jaw, remembering Arlo, weak and bleeding, dropping to his knees like a hanged man after the rope’s been cut, Murphy biting into his neck and tearing it open--

Nate’s hand squeezes his shoulder just this side of too hard to ground him, and he lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding in one tremulous exhale.

“I just wanted some of my old normal back,” Arlo says softly. “I like working with you all, I want to protect this town, but sometimes I just… I really don’t want to think about the fact that there are people out there who want to sell me to the highest bidder so they can bleed me dry. Just want to think about teaching some little ones to pirouette.” He huffs out a weak little laugh, and looks back towards the class, who are following along with their substitute’s instructions like a tiny, well-oiled machine. “That’s Marco,” he explains, gesturing to the older boy confidently leading the lesson. “He’s really good. Thinking about going pro someday.”

“Did you ever think about going pro?” Felix asks.

Arlo squirms and hesitates to answer, though he does still look relieved by the subject change. “Sort of? When I was younger.” He sighs. “It was never going to happen, though. So I mostly just stuck to the hobbyist side of it. Small time school shows and the like.”

“Why wouldn’t it happen?” Adam asks, brows furrowing. Arlo looks up at him, as if surprised it was Adam to speak.

“I’m too bloody tall,” he laughs weakly. “The professional dance world is really competitive, yeah, but it’s also very, ah, particular. You’ve got to look a certain way, fit a certain mold. I could practice all day every day, perfect every technique, but I’m still not going to have a chance when I’m seven inches taller than the tallest guy in any company. There’s technique arguments, too, about what sort of things you can’t do as well as someone smaller, but it usually comes down to looks.” He shrugs his broad shoulders, shoving his hands into the loose pockets of his joggers. “It’s not a big deal. There’s a one in a million chance I’d have made it professionally anyway. And it’s tough on the body, too. Pro careers run short. I like doing it on the side without worrying how long I’ve got left.” He smiles thinly.

Adam’s not sure what he’s going to say to that, lips parting to offer something, but he doesn’t get the chance, because the music suddenly changes from some sweet and tinkling piano to a harsh battery of electric guitar, bass, and drums. Arlo flinches away from him, turning towards the group of children now jumping up and down around the speakers and squealing along to the harsh, growling vocals. He laughs breathlessly.

“Guess the dance playlist ran out,” he says, before hurrying back to tend to the children. Several of them have taken out their ribbons and headbands and are tossing their hair around and miming playing guitar, sticking out their tongues and making odd hand gestures.

Felix cackles, and then runs over to join the fun, leaving Adam and Nate looking on, Nate chortling softly to himself.

“He’s full of surprises, our Arlo,” he says. Adam pulls his gaze away from the detective, bending over to pull off one of his shoes at the insistence of that dark-eyed little girl, to see him smiling that gently knowing smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Quiet,” Adam growls.

“I didn’t say anything,” Nate protests, but he turns back to watch the spectacle that is the detective sitting on the floor while the children pass around his ballet flat so they can compare it to their own. The size difference is comical, and sends the group into paroxysms of laughter. Even Felix, who seems to have ingratiated himself to the class easily enough, offers up his own shoe, and sticks it into the flat. Even Arlo laughs at that, a husky rumble that has Adam pressing a hand to his chest as if to stop the way his heart reacts. Nate raises his eyebrows, and Adam glowers at him, dropping the hand to his side and clenching his fingers hard. “I didn’t say anything,” Nate repeats, “but I do think it’s nice to know something about the detective’s day-to-day life, when he’s not with us, don’t you? Becoming more familiar with his habits. As a friend and not just an obligation?”

“It is useful to know his daily comings and goings to continue to protect him,” Adam allows.

Nate sighs. “It’s a start, certainly,” he says, and Adam refuses to ask what he means by that.

#pidge writes #the wayhaven chronicles #adam/m!detective #adam du mortain #wayhaven fanfic #DO NOT JUDGE MY PERFUNCTORY GOOGLE SEARCH BALLET KNOWLEDGE #I KNOW NOTHING #SUSPEND YOUR DISBELIEF I JUST WANTED TO BE GAY #anyway arlo went to art school #he is also 6'7"#big boy #soft goth man #the working title of this was big goth baby ballet so i hope u enjoy that #also the baby mosh pit i mentioned at one point #yeehaw #THIS IS A REPOST BECAUSE I HAD TO FIX TUMBLR'S FUCKUP IM SORRY #IT WAS GOING TO DRIVE ME CRAZY #happy valentine's day i guess!!!!#oc: arlo priestley

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ambitionsource · 3 years

Photo

AMBITION Season 3 ♫ “Can You Dig It?” [ 3.07 ]

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

STAYIN’ ALIVE – After an unfortunate accident, the A class finds themselves working double time to fund their showdown performance. Charlie struggles to balance the past and the present, and Maya makes a desperate move. Farkle receives news that changes his life forever.

70 Minutes (33K words) || No content warnings apply.

[ ← The Comfort Zone ] [ S3 Synopsis ] [ Moment of Truth → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

EXT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Music plays over the sound system, setting a comfortable and fun scene while most of the A class works together on the auditorium stage. The performers are working through showdown choreography or helping put the finishing touches on set pieces for the production, while the techies are split between those set pieces, the beginning of structures for their upcoming winter musical, and tweaking the lights. JEFF MONROE is up on the catwalk out of sight, NATE MARTINEZ perched on top of a scaffolding and passing him requested tools. DAVE WILLIAMS is balancing on a ladder against the scaffolding, helping hand things to Nate from below.

MAYA HART has taken over as dance captain, shouting commands at her classmates still running through steps. ZAY BABINEAUX watches from on top of the major set piece they’re building at center stage for the musical, unimpressed and maybe a bit envious. His injured left leg is now in a boot, wheelchair gone.

The conversation varies, from the impending showdown finals to college application deadlines. Everything is coming down the pipeline at record speed, right towards them, and they have to juggle it all at once. RILEY MATTHEWS glances around and asks where Jade is, which ISADORA DE LA CRUZ answers.

Isadora: She’s been locked up in the costume loft basically since last week. The deadline for her conservatory and apprenticeship programs is closing in, so she’s been working basically non-stop.

Maya: How does she not have enough samples already? Hasn’t she made everything we’ve ever worn in this school for the last three years?

A fair question, but it doesn’t get addressed. They’re all distracted by a new song coming on shuffle, playing loudly over the speakers.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Boogie Wonderland” as performed by Earth, Wind & Fire || Instrumental

Although the track is an undeniable bop, the assembled A class seniors don’t seem impressed. They all quickly pipe up to complain, calling for someone to skip it.

Darby: Where’s Jeff? Jeff! Hit skip!

Jeff, from above: A little busy right now!

Maya: Well someone better go change it!

Haley: And risk getting killed by Lucas because we dared enter the booth? No thanks.

Maya: Fair point. Riley, go change it.

Riley, in the midst of rolling paint on a set piece, raises her free arm in a shrug. Also a little busy. Zay shakes his head.

Zay: What is wrong with all of you? None of you have taste. Disco is classic. You should respect the excellence that came before you.

Maya: Sorry I’m not still living in the 20th century. It’s 2020, Zayby. Disco is dead.

Zay: You absolutely disgust me. If my foot wasn’t booted --

NIGEL CHEY finally relents amidst all their complaints, claiming he’ll risk his life to go change it if it will get them all to shut up.

For now, though, the boogie wonderland is ongoing. FARKLE MINKUS uses the opportunity to pick on Isadora, loosely disco grooving around her and trying to poke her into joining him. She laughs but tells him to cut it out, and when he gets too close, she playfully shoves him away.

Only she’s stronger than she looks, and he’s a beanpole, so she overshoots and pushes him a bit too hard. Farkle goes stumbling backwards -- right into the ladder that’s holding up Dave. Isadora yanks Farkle back just as the ladder falls out from under Dave, just missing Nigel, clattering to the stage next to them and creating a dent.

Dance! Boogie wonderland!

A bunch of the seniors cry out, scrambling away, now watching in horror as Dave dangles from the side of the scaffolding a dozen or so feet above the ground. He almost loses his grip, seconds from falling, and Maya screams. She backs away frantically and knocks into a paint can, spilling metallic silver paint all over their perfectly crisp black stage and splattering CLARISSA CRUZ, DARBY WINTERS, and SARAH CARLSON.

Ah! Ah! Dance!

Jeff and a couple of performers start shouting directives at Dave, trying to save him from a nasty fall off the scaffolding. Nate tries to pull him up, but it’s no use -- Dave is the giant after all, and Nate’s guns aren’t that swoll. Riley hides behind her hands, peeking through her fingers and unable to look away.

Riley: Oh my God, he’s gonna die.

Isadora takes over directing from below, instructing Dave to change trajectory and aim for the curtains to orient himself. Jeff objects to that, citing the integrity of the curtain pulley system, but he’s shouted down by the performers jumping on Isadora’s suggestion. Suddenly, everyone is yelling at Dave to go for the curtains, so that’s what he does.

Jeff: No, don’t -- !

All… the… love in the world can’t be gone!

Dave manages to latch onto the main curtain -- but it’s all downhill from there. That curtain is about as useless as Nate, and the pulley system holding it upright can only sustain so much weight (curtains are a lot heavier than they look). So the moment Dave latches on, it buckles underneath him, and seconds later the whole thing comes down in a spectacular show of destruction.

The A class scatters to avoid it, ducking down and covering their heads. Clarissa pulls HALEY FISHER down behind a set piece with her for cover; Farkle yanks Isadora out of the way and shields her behind him. Zay screws his eyes shut and hides behind his knee, thankfully a safe distance away. Then the dust settles, stunned silence giving way to the continuing groovy sounds of Earth, Wind, & Fire.

Riley pokes her head out from behind the set piece she was painting first, eyeing the heap of curtains and rods on the dented stage floor. She swallows.

Riley: … Dave?

For a moment, nothing but tense silence… from above, Nate releases a gasp.

Nate: Holy shit, we’ve killed him.

Then Dave emerges, pushing some dense drapery off of him and pushing himself into a sitting position. He seems dazed, but otherwise uninjured.

Jeff: Oh, thank God.

Isadora: Dave… you good buddy?

Dave blinks, then offers a thumbs up. Everyone releases a sigh of relief… just as SHAWN HUNTER and HARPER BURGESS enter into the scene of chaos, having rushed in after hearing the commotion from down the hall. In the opposite wings, LUCAS JAMES FRIAR returns with DYLAN ORLANDO and ASHER GARCIA, all of whom stop dead in their tracks when they set their eyes on the disaster they’ve stumbled into. Asher’s jaw drops open; Dylan drops the toolbox he was carrying.

Whoopsie. Boogie wonderland…

From his perch atop the set piece, Zay breaks the silence, shaking his head.

Zay: Shoulda never dissed disco.

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

JACK HUNTER is seated at his desk, working to maintain a neutral composure as HARRISON YANCY paces his office. He’s haughty and on offense, demanding to know what happened with the auditorium and grilling Jack for details. Of all the things he planned to tangle with at Adams, vandalism and destruction of school property was not at the top of the list.

Yancy: But, then, I suppose I should’ve anticipated such a turn of events. Considering you’ve struggled with reining in destruction before, and insisted so vehemently on keeping problematic entities in your student roll -- and now they’re student leadership, in fact!

Jack: He had nothing to do with this. Lucas wasn’t even in the auditorium when it happened --

Yancy: How convenient for him.

Jack: And it was an accident. No ill intent involved. It was an accident, and all of the damage is repairable. The curtains can be fixed and replaced, the dents in the stage can be filled, and the spilled paint can be removed or painted over in turn. I think we should be more concerned with the lucky reality that no one was hurt.

Yancy: [ ignoring that point ] The damage is repairable, yes, but it won’t be free. And I certainly won’t approve its reparation on the school’s dime.

Jack points out that such a decision isn’t his to make -- he’s still the principal of Adams. And that’s true enough, but as Yancy effortlessly counters, he remains under close watch. That’s the reason Yancy is present in the first place. Every decision Jack makes is under scrutiny, and a figurative nod of approval from him matters. Jack must be wise enough to realize that.

Jack, begrudgingly: So what, then?

Yancy: So, it seems to me that the A class will have to proffer the money to pay for the damages on their own.

Jack: That’s ridiculous. They’re students, not entrepreneurs. And they’re already scrambling to raise money for their showdown performance, not to mention ways to bolster their scholarship initiative since you voted to deny them funding at the board level.

Yancy: Then they must be experts at it. What’s one more money-making effort? At least it’s teaching them meaningful life skills -- budgeting, consequences, the value of a dollar. All very sensible lessons to learn… something you used to complain this institution lacked at the same time you were decrying the actions of students you now fruitlessly defend, if I recall correctly.

Well, you got him there, Yancy. Jack deflates, knowing there’s no logical path out of this. Yancy has him cornered, and the more he invites reminders about how he used to be or the ways he’s already fumbled, the graver his prospects grow. Yancy emphasizes this as he makes his exit.

Yancy: We at the board used to hold you in high esteem, Jackson. We saw great things in your future. Now, with all these foolish mistakes... let’s hope that all your promise hasn’t dissolved with the Hunter I used to know.

The threat is buried deep beneath the thinly-veiled condescension, hidden in a simple choice of plural. Mistakes. This battle is just one in a long, growing list Yancy is keeping against him.

Like he could ever forget it. Jack releases a heavy sigh after Yancy leaves his office, slouching in his chair.

Lucas, pre-lap: I shouldn’t be surprised. This might as well happen.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Riley listens attentively as Lucas paces the booth, busying himself with gathering stuff for class for the sake of moving. Although his tone is sarcastic and indifferent, the weight of his words indicates he’s far from it.

Lucas: It’s not like I don’t already have enough to focus on, between the usual bullshit and the fundraising for showdown -- a showdown that we have to win if we want any chance of the scholarship thing actually taking off. That on top of the college applications I wasn’t planning on doing three months ago but now have to make really good, because suddenly I have dreams or whatever, even though I’m basically the most rejectable candidate on the east coast.

Riley: Okay, you know that’s not true.

Lucas: Fine. Most rejectable candidate in the greater Manhattan area.

Riley: You literally won an election.

Lucas: And the world is still wondering how and why.

Riley rolls her eyes, but she is sympathetic. She agrees that the stage accident was definitely an unexpected speed bump on everything they’ve got going on, but they’ll figure out how to handle it. There’s no way it’s going to be entirely on them, anyway, and they don’t even know how much damage was actually done yet.

She takes the opportunity to broach another topic, though, easing into a deeper conversation about college. She asks how his applications are going, which he claims are fine, in spite of the stress surrounding it.

Lucas: The only stuff I’ve got left are recommendations and personal essays. And I know I’m fucked on the recs considering you’re supposed to ask for those months in advance, and I know no one impressive, least of all who would sing my praises.

Riley: You could always ask my dad for a recommendation. I’m sure he’d have glowing things to say. Instant acceptance, I bet.

Lucas, flatly: You are hilarious. It’s no mystery how you managed to reel me in.

Riley: Well, that and my effortless charm and insanely dazzling visage.

Lucas gives her a look, but to be fair, he doesn’t argue her on it. She simply beams in response, sliding closer to him and halting his pacing by taking his hands.

Lucas: Honestly, I’m not really stuck on the recommendations. I think I’m going to ask Joe for one, because he can at least speak to my work ethic or whatever, and the other… I mean, it’s whatever. I’ll figure it out.

Riley: But…?

Lucas: But… I don’t know. With the rest of the app…

It’s clear there’s something else he’s really stuck on. Riley starts to offer him advice, or maybe just encouragement, but they’re interrupted by a knock on the booth door. Jeff appears moments later at the stairs.

Jeff: Class is starting. Judgment day is upon us.

Lucas and Riley share an apprehensive look, then follow the lighting technician out of the booth.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Harper, Shawn, and ERIC MATTHEWS are on the stage, assessing the damage while the A class gathers in the front and center section. The destroyed curtain has been removed, the pock marks in the stage even more visible in its absence.

ANGELA MOORE emerges from the wings, Janitor HARLEY KEINER in tow. She’s just barely starting to show her pregnancy, but the flowy tops she’s wearing now conceal it fairly well.

Harley: Old curtain’s out back. Trash company will be by this afternoon to take it away.

Angela: I have to say, I picked a great day to stop by and visit. Never a dull moment.

Harper: Girl, tell me about it.

Angela laughs knowingly. Been there, queen. Eric and Shawn turn their attention to the seniors, coming towards the front of the stage.

Eric: Who wants to explain what exactly happened?

A whole bunch of them immediately launch into retellings, talking over each other and definitely exaggerating elements of the story. The camera jumps around to each of them, catching snippets of their perspective.

Sarah: If Jeff had just changed the song --

Jeff: I was in the catwalk!

Nate: So Jeff’s up in the catwalk, and Dave is handing me shit -- I mean, uh, stuff -- on the scaffolding --

Darby: Isadora pushed Farkle --

Isadora: I lightly nudged Farkle --

Maya: Farkle is like a house of cards and all it takes is a little wind to knock him over, so he goes flying into the ladder --

Clarissa: Paint splatters --

Yindra: The ladder goes crashing down and nearly takes off Nigel’s head --

Jade: Oh my God, what?

Nigel, pointedly: No, it did not. [ softer, to Jade ] No, it didn’t.

Yindra: It did.

Haley: Not like the curtains almost took out Dave!

Yogi: This class is a circus act.

Eric holds up a hand to halt them all, waving them down. He can’t figure out what any of them are saying when they all talk at once, so he asks for a volunteer to give the rundown. A few hands up go up, but Eric wisely selects Zay.

He pulls himself to his feet, gingerly, for the effect. Then he clears his throat, speaking plainly and matter-of-fact.

Zay: Farkle got knocked into the ladder. Ladder falls, dents stage. Dave almost falls, Nate is no help --

Nate: Whoa, okay then. Hater.

Zay: Maya stumbles back and knocks silver paint can over. Performers tell Dave to grab curtain, Jeff objects --

Jeff: Justice. Thank you.

Zay: Dave does anyway, whole thing comes down. Also, no one in this class has taste and for that they evoked the wrath of God. But apparently God can’t kill Dave Williams.

Dylan: So metal.

Eric: Thank you, Zay.

Zay does a pithy salute, lowering back into his seat. Harper goes on to explain the total damages done by the incident as well as relay the total cost of the repairs -- without saying a definitive sum, suffice to say it’s not cheap.

The A class immediately breaks into chatter again, trying to divert blame off themselves. Shawn notices one student doesn’t seem particularly vexed -- in fact, he appears to be laughing to himself behind his hand.

Shawn: I’m sorry, Friar, do you find this funny?

Lucas: What? Oh, no, no. Very serious business. [ clearing his throat ] It’s just… it’s so nice to not be the one responsible for once.

The performers immediately boo him. He simply smiles. CHAI FRESCO is the one who manages to redirect the conversation.

Chai: What exactly is he doing here?

All eyes turn to Janitor Harley, who stands sheepishly next to the faculty. Harper says she’s glad Chai asked, claiming that if anyone deserves an apology for what they did today, it would be him. He puts a lot of effort and care into maintaining their sacred space, this auditorium, and the damage done today walks all over that.

Darby: It really was an accident.

Harley: No hard feelings, Miss Winters. Mighty nice as it was for Harper and Shawn to invite me here, rest assured I know there was no ill intent or disrespect. And I can assure you that with the time and proper resources, we will return this stage to tip-top shape in no time.

Maya: Lovely. Problem solved then, no?

Eric: Not quite. You do still have an assignment to attend to, especially as it’s your last major one before finals.

Harper: Since it is a weird time in the calendar and we don’t want to barrel another assignment next week right before showdown, Shawn and I agreed that this assignment would be a two-week stretch, and ideally lower stakes.

Shawn: Even better now, considering how you all just doubled pressure on your own.

Harper: And since you’ve also in turn given Harley more pressure and work to attend to in this time, we thought it only fair that he decide your focus for the project.

With that, they pass the floor over to Harley again to make his declaration. The performers don’t seem all that unnerved -- it’s Harley Keiner. What’s the worst he could do? Clean-up anthems? He clears his throat, clasping his biker-gloved hands together.

Harley: When I’m in a particularly rough spot, or working through a grueling task, I have always found that a little music can really liven the task.

Yogi: [ under his breath ] Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere…

Harley: But nothing gets me more fired up, ready to take on a challenge or dance to the beat, than some classic tunes from my early youth. And I’ll tell you kids, no one knew music better than the radio hits of my day.

Slowly, the possibility begins to dawn on the A class what decree awaits them. Dylan is counting backwards on his fingers, trying to calculate just how old Harley actually is, but Asher next to him has beaten him to it.

Asher: Oh no.

Harley: Ladies and gentleboys, we’ll be taking it back to the ‘70s this week for your musical assignments.

Dun dun dun. The A class expresses their obvious disdain. Well, all except Zay, who cracks a smug grin.

Zay: Heh heh… karma.

There’s only more grim news. Considering the stage is going to be undergoing repairs thanks to all this, they’re all essentially ousted from the auditorium for the time being. No sense practicing or rehearsing in a space that’s going to be under construction. JADE BEAMON sits up straighter, shooting her hand in the air.

Jade: We can still access the lofts, right? Like, I can get in the costume loft --

Eric: Yes, all the technical spaces, as well as the dressing rooms, are still fair game. But stay away from the stage.

Harper: And you might not get much work done when they’re doing things like drilling and hammering, so be forewarned.

Haunting… Jade hides in her hands, already stressed. Nigel tentatively pats her on the shoulder.

So yeah, all in all, some unideal circumstances right before some of the most important events of their high school career.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Maya is in surprisingly good spirits in spite of the financial issues confronting the class, preening and showing off Valerie’s faux fur coat. She wears it effortlessly, entertaining Darby, Sarah, and a crop of underclassmen at a table as she shares the tale of her and Valerie’s instant starlit bond. When Darby reaches out to feel the coat, Maya quickly smacks her hand away.

Maya: You’re welcome and encouraged to look, but no touchie. Golden diva rule.

A couple of tables over, Riley and Isadora watch her showboating with amusement. Riley claims it was really generous of Isadora to give her the coat, but she shrugs it off.

Isadora: Seriously, she’s way more at home in it than I would ever be. Can you ever see me pulling that off?

Riley: I think you can deliver any design you endeavor, you know that. [ off her raised eyebrow ] But yeah, a bit out of your element. Ironically, maybe.

Isadora: Even that’s a stretch. But it really wasn’t a hard decision. As much as it inflates her ego, my mom did see something in her. Maya can use it as a bragging tool all she wants, and people probably won’t believe her because of it, but they probably would be in cahoots if Val were still here. [ a beat ] A lot of things were going to happen if she were here.

Oof. Riley senses the gloom impending, searching for a quick change of subject. She asks if Isadora found anything else cool in the boxes from the estate.

Isadora pauses, mouth parted open. The answer is plenty -- including the mystery hidden way deep down underneath everything else. But for whatever reason, she hesitates explaining what she found.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to respond anyway. Dylan swoops into their conversation, dropping down into the seat next to Riley and smacking a piece of paper onto the table. It’s a flyer for scheme one of their fundraising efforts: a community dance, now officially ‘70s themed. Isadora turns it around to get a better look at the very bright poster.

Dylan: Hot off the presses, ladies. Another instant classic from the one and only ambassador of public relational fun and enthusiasm, comma right hand advisor, comma prime minister of the techies and secretary of kissing, mainly to the secretary and official marketing and communications director for the Friar administration.

Isadora: Colorful…

Dylan: Shout-out to Harley for basically choosing our theme for us. We’d been sitting on it for ages because Asher and Maya kept fighting over it.

Isadora: Really? What theme ideas could possibly be worth scrapping over?

Dylan: Nothing. Neither of them actually had an idea. I think they just automatically hate anything that comes out of the others’ mouth.

Isadora: Wow, just like a real body politic.

Riley excitedly swipes the flyer, praising Dylan for his enthusiastic design. She snaps a picture of it on her phone and explains she’s texting it to Charlie.

Riley: I’m so pumped for this. Disco isn’t my favorite thing, but it is fun.

Dylan: Bouncy.

Isadora: Jaunty.

Dylan: Ooh, thesaurus bonus.

Dylan and Isadora exchange a quick high five. Riley beams at them, then continues.

Riley: Besides, with how extremely crazy everything is right now between college apps and showdown and now this fundraising debacle, I think it’ll give all of us some much-needed serotonin. A nice evening of… disco dopamine.

Dylan: Oh, you know you just wanna see Lucas in some sick bellbottoms.

Isadora: [ with a gag ] God… please, I’m sitting right here...

Riley shoves Dylan playfully, then reiterates the point. It will be fun. A nice, well-deserved stress reliever after working their asses off these next couple weeks.

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

And boy howdy, that could not be truer for Jade. She is in full frenzy mode, skipping lunch and hunkered down in the costume loft to work. It seems like she’s been there for days, her space under the loft essentially a nest of costuming supplies, her belongings, and discarded snack containers. Her hair is a mess of tangles falling half out of a ponytail, three different tape measures are draped around her neck like graduation cords, and she’s wearing an old button up paint smock about 3 sizes too large that only exacerbates the crazed hermit energy.

Asher and Jeff listen as she multitasks on cataloguing some of her projects and marks another in progress on the table in front of her, the former visibly disconcerted by Jade’s general state of being while the latter seems mainly tickled. She speaks around a pin caught between her lips as she explains the reason for the chaos -- college applications are due right around the corner, as are apprenticeship applications, and she needs to have all her portfolio pieces in perfect condition before she hits that submit button.

Asher: Again, I know this is hypocritical coming from me, but girl you need to relax.

Jade snaps her head up to glare at him, even scarier with that pin in her mouth. She removes it to stick something down while Jeff asks her what she has left to do. Apparently, she’s just about done after days of relentless work, so she’s on her last application assignment now: pick a decade and create a sampling of as many unique -- but historically accurate -- costumes as possible in her designer’s mind.

Jade: Luckily, Janitor Harley did me the favor of having to pick a decade. If we’re doing ‘70s stuff this week anyway, then we’ll probably need costumes, so I can knock out two birds with one stone.

Jeff: I don’t know if I’d say need…

Asher: Yeah, with the auditorium boarded up for the time being I doubt we’ll be doing any major productions.

Jade: With Maya and Farkle, you can never be too careful.

Case in point, she is way too swamped to even think about the fundraising bullshit. She feels bad, but there’s no way she can split her time. Jeff and Asher assure her it’s no big deal.

Jeff: I think the performers will let you off the hook considering you’ve made… every single costume they’ve ever worn since freshman year.

Asher: Least they could do.

Jeff: Yeah. You deserve a week off!

Jeff’s turn to receive the Jade Beamon death glare. He clears his throat, scratching his ear.

Jeff: Well, you know… not for you, but...

Jade stabs the pin cushion pointedly.

Zay, pre-lap: I guess if my clear eternal damnation is good for anything, it gets me out of fundraising to fix another problem caused by Farkle and the Pips.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Zay and Nigel are taking their lunch in the boys dressing room, both on their laptops while they eat. They’re working on finalizing college application stuff, Zay sitting on the counter with his injured foot propped up while Nigel is leaning against the mirrors on the floor.

Nigel: Guess it’s worth it then.

Zay: Ha ha, so funny. If I could afford to move, I would kill you for being such a damn comedian.

Nigel: I’m more of a tragedies man myself. [ a beat ] What are you planning to do, exactly? For the applications.

Zay: [ with a sigh ] Just putting the pieces together and hoping for the best. Thank fuck I recorded a couple runs of my routine when I was going through my obsessive drills at the start of the year.

Nigel: Glad Diva Zay was good for something.

Zay: They’re not as polished as I want, but they’ll do. Not like I have any other options. I’m just going to convince myself via self-hypnosis that they’ll see the rough edges as loose, natural charm. Between that and other samples I have from shows and recitals and West Side Story, all I can do is hope that’s enough. And if I get far enough to book an audition… I’ll be better by then.

He says it like a guarantee -- he can’t consider the alternative. Nigel isn’t sure how to respond, but he’s spared from figuring it out as they’re interrupted by YINDRA AMINO entering with a few showdown costumes to replace on the rack. All of them freeze as they glance at one another, Yindra and Zay holding one another’s gaze for a few moments longer. Then Yindra brushes past the awkwardness, shrugging and focusing on the costume rack.

Yindra: No need to go on defense, boys. I’m only here on business.

She keeps her eyes on her task. Nigel picks up the conversational slack, explaining that they were discussing their college applications. He asks how Yindra is doing in plotting her college plans, as last they talked she didn’t have much set in stone.

Yindra, matter-of-fact: I’ll be applying to a couple of schools as a safety net, but my main trajectory remains Los Angeles. The current plan right now is to skip over the bureaucracy of academics I don’t care about and go out there to start striking while the iron is hot. Talent speaks for itself.

Nigel, ever the pragmatist, still seems uneasy about such a plan, but it’s Zay who beats him to the punch. He breaks the silence between him and Yindra with a snort, tone teasing but friendly.

Zay: Straight to Los Angeles with no foundation? Now that’s just asking for trouble, and that’s coming from a diva like me. Haven’t you seen Fame?

Maybe that kind of friendly fire passes when they’re on good terms, but it falls flat now. Yindra stiffens her shoulders, giving Zay a diva glare of her own.

Yindra: [ without looking at him ] Nigel, will you please inform Zay that despite what his superiority complex might think, I’m not an idiot?

Nigel: Oh, um --

Zay: Come on, Yindra. I didn’t mean it like that.

Yindra: And Zay might find it interesting to know that my dad is considering moving to Los Angeles as well, if I plan to be out there, so I don’t see how I’m swinging with no foundation. And I’ll be using the money that we would’ve wasted on tuition for studio time to record a demo, so there is in fact a method behind the madness. Just because I’m not following the same musty, beaten path as everyone else doesn’t mean I’m not on any path at all. [ haughtily ] And even in spite of his broke attitude, I wish him all the best with his less-than-ideal circumstances. Least of all this week -- I’m sure not being able to show off while he discos is simply killing him. Thanks for letting him know, Nigel.

Nigel: … you’re welcome...

With that, Yindra spins on her heel and exits. Zay rolls his eyes, but it’s clear that the state of their friendship is really bothering him. Nigel awkwardly attempts to move past it, commenting that the two of them are about as dramatic as a Shakespearean comedy of errors before coming back to Yindra’s closing point.

Nigel: It’s a shame about this assignment though. You’re probably the only one in our class who could truly thrive this week.

Zay smiles half-heartedly, both of them focusing back on their computers. After a moment, his smile dims.

Zay: Didn’t use to be…

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - HALLWAY - DAY

CHARLIE GARDNER is at his locker, reading the texts from Riley. He pulls up the photo of the flyer for the dance fundraiser, boasting the disco theme for the end of the semester in all its groovy glory.

Yes, it is a tragedy that Charlie isn’t there to participate. Another disco gay, barred from the dance floor. It’s clear from his expression that he’s bummed about it.

He’s only pulled out of his fugue when EVAN SCOTT approaches. He pats him on the shoulder as he passes and asks if he’s ready for rehearsal. With senior showdown finals so close around the corner, Brandon is going to be drilling them more than ever. Now it’s game time for real.

Charlie nods, putting his phone away and shutting his locker to follow him. But that melancholy still lingers in his features.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

But he’s not the only one grappling with an unideal situation. Lucas is the king of that, settled in his usual chair across from Jack, only this time he’s not alone. Maya has been called in with him, the two of them waiting uncertainly as Jack prepares to share why he brought them in.

And the reason for his apprehension is obvious once he says it. He finally breaks the news to them that the school board declined to fund their scholarship initiative -- and that’s not even the worst part.

Maya: Nothing?

Lucas: They’re not going to contribute anything?

Jack: I know, it’s disappointing. To be honest, I was anticipating at least a partial donation, but for whatever reason it was shot down wholesale. It was close, though.

Maya: Well. That’s just lovely. Could the state of the AAA union get any more despicable?

Jack: To put it simply? Yes.

Uh oh. Jack reluctantly informs them of the other bomb blowing up their administration -- that Yancy has insisted they pay for the damages to the auditorium since their class caused it. Both Lucas and Maya erupt in complaints, the latter literally leaping out of her chair and launching into a frantic pace behind it. She fans herself, taking deep breaths.

Maya: Okay. This is fine. No money, no problems. It’s fine. It’s fine!

Jack: … Miss Hart?

Maya stops behind her vacated seat, gripping the back of it. She takes in a deep breath, holds it, and releases it theatrically. Then she opens her eyes, plastering on her winning star smile.

Maya: It’s okay. Yes, everything is fine. The situation is unideal, in a word --

Lucas: More like bullshit.

Maya: Also a word. But money and I have been tussling my whole career. It won’t be getting the best of me now. We’ll come up with another way to fundraise alongside the dance social and then we will win showdown and absolutely everything will work out exactly how I want it to. It always does.

Jack: That so?

Maya: Thanks to the two powers that be, Principal Hunter -- star and will. And I’ve got both in spades. [ another breath ] Okay, damage control. Need new ideas. Gotta pool resources… brainstorm. I need to brainstorm. I’m thinking… I’m scheming...

Maya hums, entering zen diva mode as she gathers her things. She backs out of the office and assures Lucas she’ll update him as soon as she’s figured out their second moneymaker. Once she’s gone, Lucas and Jack wait a moment to let the Maya pheromones dissipate before continuing the conversation.

Jack: Say what you will about her, can’t pretend she doesn’t have moxie. An interesting choice to partner with you.

Lucas: Believe it or not -- and I’ll deny it if you tell anyone -- I think she’s the best second-in-command I could’ve picked. Somehow her brand of insanity is just right for the Minesweeper that is Triple A student government.

Hard to argue with that. Jack apologizes again for the fact that so much seems to be piling on him at once. He really did think they would get more help from the board… but they’ll keep marching on regardless. The initiative is worth fighting for, and besides, their fundraisers could really outsell their expectations. Especially with a theme like disco, their dance will probably be a smashing success. Lucas can’t help but smirk.

Lucas: Yeah, you’d know all about that, huh? Bet you were just a disco king back in your day.

Jack, flatly: How old do you think I am to have been discoing in the ‘70s?

Cheekiness notwithstanding, the prospects seem good. Not all hope is lost. Jack switches gears, checking in with how Lucas is doing on his applications with deadlines fast approaching. Lucas gives the same general response he gave Riley, tiptoeing around the challenge of the essay component and focusing on the fact that he might get it done at all. Now that it’s so close, it feels more and more daunting… not to mention all the other pressure that seems to be landing on top of him right at the same time.

Jack hears that, and dismisses Lucas so he has time to go deal with all those pressures. Before he walks out, Lucas pauses and turns back for one more thing. He struggles to articulate it since asking for any sort of help feels like specialized torture, but he manages to ask if Jack would be willing to write him a letter of recommendation for the applications. The request surprises Jack, which Lucas reads as discomfort.

Lucas: I know it’s like, pretty last minute and stuff. And there probably isn’t a lot to say about me, so it’ll take some work to throw something compelling together. I should’ve asked sooner, or like, bothered someone else. So I totally get it if you don’t have time or have too much to do or just, you know, don’t want to --

Jack is far from opposed, though. In fact, he’s touched by the request, expression softening to a smile.

Jack: Lucas. [ waiting for him to quiet ] I’d be happy to write one for you. It’s no problem at all.

Lucas: … okay. Cool. Um, thanks.

Jack: You’re quite welcome.

Lucas: I’ll send over the links and stuff later. Today. Later today. So it’s not any later.

Jack: Whatever works for you.

Lucas: Okay… okay. Cool.

Any more bashful vulnerability and Lucas just might implode. He mutters one more quick thanks and scampers away, Jack holding back his amusement long enough to spare Lucas further embarrassment. He chuckles to himself as he shifts back to his work, shaking his head.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Surrounded by various textbooks and scripts and with her laptop propped in front of her, Isadora sits on her bed. A half-finished essay about how the horror genre has developed over the years is open on her screen, but has been entirely abandoned in favor of the mysterious letter Valerie had in her belongings. Isadora holds several handwritten pages, eyebrows furrowed as she reads her mother’s words. She moves the first page to the side, and we catch a glimpse of Val’s loopy handwriting:

Dearest Zachary,

How lovely it is to hear from an old friend! I’m so glad that you’re doing well. Send my well wishes to that darling wife of yours.

To answer your question, I wasn’t entirely sure of who Isadora’s father was when I discovered I was pregnant -- as you well know, I often got rather drunk back then, so couldn’t be entirely sure of all my actions. However, upon reflection, I have come to the same conclusion as you.

Well, damn. Heavy stuff, even if somewhat rose-tinted through Valerie’s flowery language. Isadora bites her lip as she continues reading, clearly conflicted about this sudden revelation.

Eric, off-screen: Dinner’s ready!

Isadora doesn’t seem to hear Eric’s yell, so after a moment, Eric comes to her room to tell her directly. She still doesn’t look up from the letter, peaking Eric’s interest.

Eric: What are you reading?

Isadora: Hm? Oh, nothing.

She folds up the papers and shoves them under one of her notebooks nearby, giving Eric a small forced smile. He narrows his eyes at her, jokingly suspicious, which Isadora laughs off. She hops off her bed and asks what’s for dinner, successfully distracting him.

INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - DAY

Farkle is meeting with DR. MICHELLE HAN, assembled in their usual positions with her in her arm chair and him sprawled across the couch. He’s relaying the drama of the week and his unfortunate instrumental role in all the destruction, though at least this time it was far from intentional. But it’s clear he feels guilty about it, and he admits that his uncanny knack for making things worse is definitely not helping him combat those low moods that seem to creep up on him out of nowhere.

Dr. Han perks up at this, taking the opportunity to gear the conversation. She gently asks if they could discuss that further for a bit, his experience with the high and low moods. Everybody has off days, of course, but based on their previous discussions, she’s interested to hear more about how Farkle describes these different emotional states and the other factors that come with it.

It’s not hard to get Farkle to talk. He obliges without hesitation, launching into details about how it feels when he’s feeling especially frenzied -- sort of the opposite of what he’s dancing around now, but such a vivid experience when he’s in it that he remembers the sensation and always can vibe when it’s coming on. Dr. Han listens carefully, flipping to a clean page in her notepad to jot down his thoughts.

Farkle doesn’t think anything of it, but it seems like Dr. Han might be onto something more than just the typical one-on-one chat. A pronounced clapping counts us in...

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY

BRANDON RIVAS is clapping along to the downbeat while the Havies run through their showdown routine, the instrumental from How to Succeed playing on the speakers. He’s keeping a watchful eye on his classmates while they run through the choreography, shouting out when someone is off a beat or not sharp enough on the steps.

Charlie is definitely one of those people. He’s a couple of steps behind today, mind elsewhere, and when he accidentally bumps into BILLY ROSS he receives a glare in response. What’s the matter with you, man?

Brandon: Come on, Gardner! This is your choreography!

Fair point, Brandon. Charlie tries to get back on track, but lucky for him he’s far from the only one struggling this week. DWEEZIL HOWARD is out of step too, and his mistakes reverberate way more as he accidentally sends half the boys into a wave of near stumbles. Brandon yells for everyone to stop, shaking his head as Evan jogs to pause the music.

Brandon: This is not the time to get soft, guys. Showdown is right around the corner.

Havie: So what? It’s not like Adams is any competition. Six years of success speak for themselves.

Brandon: And complacency is the first step in breaking that streak. You want to be credited when that takes us down? [ off his head shake ] So, what’s going on? Is there some contagious case of vertigo going around that makes you all unable to balance on your own two feet?

Charlie chews his lip, shying away from the disappointment. He’s not the only recipient, but he knows he doesn’t have a good excuse -- and certainly not one Brandon would want to hear. But Dweezil answers first anyway, much more visibly frazzled than him.

Dweezil: I’m sorry, Brandon. I’m just really stressing about the MIT app.

Others murmur agreement, mentioning their own upcoming dream school deadlines and the pressure of finishing their applications. Charlie nods along as if that’s his problem too.

Brandon considers this for a long moment, scanning over his peers. He may have high expectations, but he’s not without compassion for his boys. He relents and expresses sympathy for everybody’s stress, claiming they can call it quits early today and cut down on afternoon rehearsals for the next few days while everyone is wrapping up applications.

The boys breathe a collective sigh of relief, thanking Brandon and starting to disperse. Brandon shouts after them to send those apps in fast and get ready to come back to work harder than ever -- they’re not going to slip and fall to AAA on his watch. Billy exchanges a handshake with him and suggests he take some time off to focus on himself, too, but Brandon shrugs this off.

Brandon: No, it’s fine. Think I’ll be able to make use of the time… might have to make some adjustments to the numbers anyway. [ quirking an eyebrow ] Make sure we’re the best we can possibly be.

For what it’s worth, the statement seems less than innocuous. It kind of feels like Brandon knows something we don’t, and based on Billy’s smug reaction, he’s in on it too. They exchange another fist bump before Billy heads out.

Charlie is one of the last to leave, pausing in packing up to check his phone. He’s got a surprising amount of texts on his lock screen, all from Daisy. He opens the thread, finding just under a dozen texts of her sharing live updates with him of an argument that apparently broke out between Rosie and Eleanor. Although her observations are characteristically dry and analytical -- a technical play-by-play rather than biased record -- the fact that she’s telling Charlie about it at all is a sign that she’s concerned about it. The final message she sent kind of sums up the looming stakes without saying so:

“Didn’t this happen with Bridgette?”

Either way, not good news. Charlie frowns. Before he figures out how to respond, Brandon startles him.

Brandon: All good, Charles?

Charlie: Uh, yeah. Yeah, just, you know. Lots on my mind. It was cool of you to give everyone a break right now.

Brandon: Well. [ with a shrug ] Nothing too serious going on with you, I hope. We need your talent to up our dance credentials -- I assume you realize by now how valuable you are to the team.

Charlie: Oh, well…

Brandon: Can’t afford to let anything distract us right now if we’re to come out victorious against Adams. [ a beat ] Least of all Adams itself… you know, it’s okay if you’re feeling conflicted…

Conflicted might be a bit strong -- although Charlie lives basically every day of his life conflicted -- but the notion that Brandon is even close to sensing what’s actually going on in his head sets him on edge. He clears his throat, frantically attempting to throw him off the trail.

Charlie: Oh, no. No. It’s um -- just family stuff. Stuff with my sisters.

Brandon: Ah… sibling nonsense. I get that. I’ve got two older brothers, and even though they’re not at home anymore it’s like I’m still carrying their baggage around.

Charlie: Big shoes to fill?

Brandon: Well, one was valedictorian and is starting his first year at Harvard Law, and the other is starting his third year in prison. So kind of high bars in either direction.

Well. No idea how to respond to that little fun fact. Brandon spares Charlie the awkwardness and lets him go, wishing him a good afternoon.

But pleasant as he is, it’s evident he doesn’t fully buy Charlie’s excuse.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Isadora is at the counter at Chubbies, discussing all of the impending stressors with Lucas during his shift. They’re especially mindful of how Lucas’s scholarship plan is now basically hinging solely on a victory at showdown, which is feeling more and more like a long shot. With Zay no longer able to bolster their performance, they’re short star power.

Isadora: And since Haverford has Charlie, who is basically his counterweight, suddenly the scales are tipped heavily in their favor. We’ll be lucky if we can create some Frankenstein performance around the gaping hole Zay leaves behind.

Lucas: Have you thought about stepping up in his place? Not that you’re anywhere near the level of dancer that he is, but you do purportedly have star power.

Isadora: Gee, thanks. I’m honestly shocked you’re suggesting this.

Lucas: Believe me, it hurts. But I’ve got stakes riding on this too, and I know you’re talented. Maybe you could help prop things back up so we’ve got at least a shot of winning.

Isadora: I don’t know… I mean, I know I performed the other week, but it was all about that assignment, you know? It was specifically because it was out of my comfort zone. [ a beat ] Though, why, I don’t even really know anymore…

She feels more confused about performing these days than averse, with all the grieving she’s done over Valerie, but confusion still feels dangerous. Probably safer to just stay on the sidelines… probably...

Speaking of dangerous tasks, Isadora shifts to college applications. She submitted her NYU film school application ages ago, and she’s got a couple of other things in the pipeline, but she’s much more interested in how Lucas is dealing with his. When he feeds her the same lines he’s been telling everyone else, she raises her eyebrows. Not buying it.

Leave it to Isadora to see right through him. Lucas sighs, relenting and explaining that the essays are killing him. It’s like, everything else he can scrape together, fake, pull off like he’s scraped through everything else in his life. But the personal statements…

Lucas: I hate writing about myself. Why should all of my potential rest on how well I can sell myself in some 500-word anecdote? As if that paints the complete picture. Not that I want that either -- the full picture isn’t pretty. How am I supposed to convince some strangers to take a chance on me when I don’t even believe it? If I had the choice whether or not to know myself, I wouldn’t.

Isadora: Wonder what that says about those of us who do choose to know you.

Lucas: And what am I going to say? Howdy, I’m a son of a bitch, please let me into your school and give me your money to do so? Great fucking deal.

Isadora rolls her eyes. She points out that although he doesn’t want to hear it, when it comes to finances he knows she can help. Once the money from her inheritance fully comes through, she’ll have plenty that she doesn’t know what to do with. If she’s going to use it to help others -- especially those she cares about -- then helping him pursue his dreams is a non-issue. But, predictably, Lucas recoils at the suggestion.

Isadora: I swear, you are impossible. And you have such a weird hang-up about money.

Lucas: Yeah, views that you shared until about a month ago.

Isadora: Well, I’ve grown. I can see the nuances in money now and how it goes around. And I’m just saying that if you’ve got all these complexes around who has it and who can give it to you when you’re stuck on the bottom rung, then --

No doubt it’s a complicated series of complexes. As Isadora is settling into her rant, MISSY BRADFORD enters the diner. Lucas glances over Isadora’s shoulder and spots her, immediately clamming up.

Isadora: ...it’s what Reagan sold as trickle-down economics, but the thing is if you don’t give any money to the lowest income households from the get-go, then they never --

Lucas: Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ve got to go to the back.

Lucas retreats from the counter without waiting for permission, causing Isadora to scoff. She wasn’t finished! But he’s already gone, leaving her high and dry. But he also successfully avoided Missy, who steps up the counter for a pick-up order and is helped by another employee instead. She doesn’t acknowledge Isadora, who eyes her judgmentally from her stool.

As Missy collects her order and leaves -- glancing over her shoulder one last time for her usual Chubbies worker -- Dylan and Asher enter with Farkle. They join Isadora at the counter, asking where Lucas is. She shrugs, claiming he disappeared to deal with something.

Farkle: You ready to go? Is Maya here yet?

Isadora: Not yet. Figure she’ll be a bit late after the “atomic bomb” Jack dropped on her and Lucas -- her words, not mine.

Asher: What are you all up to?

Isadora: Since Farkle and I were technically responsible for the destruction in the auditorium --

Farkle: One could make the argument that I should have died last year.

Dylan: That would be a sick personal essay.

Isadora: We thought it was only fair that we put in the time to help Maya craft whatever last-minute fundraising effort we’re going to pull together to cover it.

As for Dylan and Asher, they were just stopping by to catch up with Lucas before going to practice their assignment for the week. Isadora commends Asher for performing again, considering it was so out of his comfort zone.

Farkle: Yeah, that’s not -- you’re not thinking of making that a habit, are you? Not asking for any reason, just curious. Not because you’re also a tenor. I’m just wondering.

Isadora: Smooth.

Asher: No, not planning to change career paths. Rest easy, Farkle. Just getting this out of the way sooner rather than later. [ nodding to Dylan ] It’s not as bad since we’re doing it together. And besides, can’t ignore the pull of the funk.

Dylan, wisely: Disco is for the gays.

Asher: Gotta pay our dues and get down with the boogie.

Far out, fellas! Isadora and Farkle wish them luck and head out together. Isadora asks Farkle how his therapy appointment went, and while his answer is unbothered, he definitely seems to be a little spacy this week. Isadora notices and considers asking him about it, but opts not to press further. They’ve got enough going on right now.

INT. GARDNER HOME - ROSIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

ROSIE GARDNER is huddled up in her bedroom, begrudgingly working on homework. She’s got Niall Horan playing, and the volume is turned up loud. It takes multiple knocks on her door before Rosie hears, shouting over the noise.

Rosie: Go away! I’m busy.

Charlie, from the hall: It’s me. Can we talk for a minute?

Rosie sighs, but gets up. She opens the door and spins back around to drop back into her seat at her desk, not bothering to greet him. But she let him in, which is more than anyone else has managed this evening.

Charlie blinks as the pop music assaults his ears. He gently closes the door behind him, raising his voice over Niall.

Charlie: Think you could turn Niall down for a second?

Rosie: Huh?

Charlie: Turn your boyfriend down so we can actually hear each other!

Rosie: Ugh. You’re so not funny.

And yet, she relents and lowers the volume. Charlie makes a show of shaking off the ringing in his ears, knocking his ear slightly.

Charlie: Just checking for significant damage. Need industrial strength noise-cancelling headphones to come in here. Like they wear when they guide airplanes onto the runway.

Rosie: You are so annoying. Did you want something, or?

Charlie explains that Daisy texted him that afternoon about a fight she apparently had with mom. She seemed pretty concerned, so he just wanted to check in. Is everything okay? Rosie rolls her eyes.

Rosie: It’s so whatever. Daisy is exaggerating.

Charlie: I don’t think Daisy is capable of exaggeration. We took all the drama genes, there wasn’t any left for her.

Rosie: Well, she is. Yeah, mom and I argued, but it’s like… it’s dumb, whatever. I don’t even care.

Charlie: You’re listening to your sad 1D playlist.

Rosie: I said I don’t care, Charlie. And I can listen to whatever I want whenever I want.

Charlie: Okay, well, can you at least tell me what it was about? Or what’s --

Rosie: Ugh. It was nothing! Can you mind your own business and leave me alone? I’m trying to work.

Yikes. Rosie has always had a little bit of early teen venom in her, but this feels like more than that. Charlie doesn’t want to just let it drop, but it’s more than obvious she will not be having any productive conversations right now.

Charlie: Okay. I’m only -- if you want to talk about anything, you know you can tell me. I’m here to listen. [ a beat ] Okay?

Rosie: [ not bothering to look at him ] Okay. Whatever. Thanks.

She turns Niall back up, effectively ending the talk. Charlie hangs around for a moment longer, words he wants to say on the tip of his tongue, but for now there’s nothing to be done. He reluctantly retreats, the ghost of the past looming over him.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Farkle, Maya and Isadora are spread out around Farkle’s bedroom as they brainstorm ideas for fundraising. Maya paces around, occasionally picking up little trinkets and inspecting them before putting them back down in the wrong place. Isadora, meanwhile, is laying down on Farkle’s bed on her back, her head hanging upside down off the side. Farkle has gathered a blanket around him as he sits at the other end of the bed.

Maya: You need to add some meat to that stick of a body, Farkle. You can’t keep living like an orphan who’s freezing to death on the streets of Victorian London.

Farkle: It’s not my fault I have a fast metabolism. You’re just jealous.

Maya: Yes, I’m very jealous of the boy who looks like he’s dying of scurvy.

Isadora snorts in amusement, for which Farkle shoots a glare at her.

Maya: Go get us some snacks, orphan boy. We’ll fatten you up Hansel and Gretel style.

Farkle: This is offensive to orphans everywhere, I hope you know.

Isadora: As the only orphan here, I’m not offended. Maya, you may continue your bullying.

Maya grins, but Isadora frowns as she realizes what she said. Technically, she isn’t an orphan, if her father is out there alive... despite rolling his eyes, Farkle does get up to get snacks, blanket still tightly wrapped around him.

Once she and Maya are alone, Isadora sits up straight and turns towards her, lips pursed in thought as she considers what she wants to say.

Isadora: Do you know who your dad is?

Maya stops wandering around and looks at Isadora in surprise.

Maya: Where’d that come from?

Isadora: I don’t know. Just wondering about the orphan thing, I guess.

Maya: Izzy, that was just a joke. And directed towards Farkle. All jeers are reserved for our darling beanpole -- I’m not stupid enough to drag you.

Isadora: Appreciated. [ a beat ] I know nothing about my dad.

Maya: [ with a shrug ] I know my dad’s name and some basic facts about him, like his job, but nothing else.

Isadora: Have you ever considered getting in touch with him? What if he’s out there somewhere? Mine or yours.

Maya: When I was younger I thought about it… but he abandoned me, so what’s the point? If he wanted me in his life, I would be. He knows who I am and how to contact me, but he hasn’t. Why waste my precious time and energy dealing with him when I already have my mom? She’s all I need.

Isadora nods, considering this. Her father situation is quite different to Maya’s, so not all that helpful. Regardless, it’s something to think about. Maya is pensive, too, mind now occupied by thoughts of Katy. Isadora notices her shift in mood.

Isadora: You miss her?

Maya: [ with a theatrical sigh ] Always. [ then, a bittersweet smile ] It’s okay, every artist has to have their tragic backstory. It’s good. Gives me personal agony to work through.

Isadora: … well, actually --

Before she can say anything further, Farkle returns with an armful of snacks. He tosses them at Maya and Isadora.

Farkle: Here you go, little piggies. Oink oink.

Maya: You can’t say that to us, we’re women.

Isadora: We could have you cancelled for that.

Maya: Besides, as the only poor one present, I reserve all rights to the word pig. [ eyeing them ] Capitalist swine…

Farkle: Yeah, speaking of lack of funding...

The conversation moves on, back to fundraising, but Maya gets out her phone to send Katy a quick message letting her know that she misses her.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Boogie Shoes” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Asher Garcia & Dylan Orlando

Kicking off the first official performance for the ‘70s theme, Asher launches us into number with an impressive opening note. He starts at the top of the stairs in the atrium, starting down the steps while singing towards Dylan, who’s waiting down below. When he sings “boy, to be with you is my favorite thing,” Dylan playfully points to himself and beams. They’re both dressed in modern-day approximations of disco garb -- colorful dress shirts, glossy vests with matching flare pants, funky patterned ascots.

And they’re setting the standard for what performances will be like without the usual stage of the auditorium. Their chosen location is the atrium, mostly empty as it’s during class hours, the rest of the A class scattered around the space to watch and provide back-up vocals (as well as their usual reactions and applause). Zay is particularly torn, clearly flipping between jealousy that he can’t be dancing and basically vibrating with the infectious groove.

In the case of Dylan and Asher, there is plenty to cheer for. They’re simply undeniably a joy to watch, especially with each other, and Dylan was right when he said disco is for the gays. They’ve got the night fever, full of energy and charm as they dance together. On the “woo!” during the bridge, Dylan lifts Asher in a funky little hop moment. And Asher’s vocal runs throughout are nothing to scoff at either.

It’s a smashing way to start the assignments off right!

INT. AAA - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY

As strong a showing as that little number was, the upbeat mood doesn’t last long. Stress dominates in the meeting between Maya, Yindra, Farkle, Jeff, and Isadora, who are deliberating on the current status of their showdown setlist. They’re attempting to analyze it and rework with the knowledge that Zay will not be able to participate, but it’s easier said than done.

Lack of focus doesn’t help matters. Farkle is noticeably zoned out, lost in his own head, and Maya has to snap at him to get him back at attention. This is not amateur hour! No time for spacing out, Farkle! He apologizes, but Isadora notices he still seems far away somehow.

The fervent discussion is immediately halted when Zay enters the studio, realizing they’ve all convened to work without him. He asks what gives.

Maya: It’s not personal, Zayby. But considering your current situation...

Zay: I’m still choreographer. Even if I’m not performing, I should be included in meetings. Especially if you’re talking about altering the routine.

Jeff: We’re not.

Farkle: At least, not right now.

Isadora, diplomatically: We just know that not being able to participate is difficult for you, so Riley suggested… we figured it would be better not to like… force you to deal with it. Or rub it in your face.

Maya: Exactly. See? We’re doing this for you.

How sweet. But Zay isn’t moved. He grows defensive, nodding along but dripping with sarcasm.

Zay: Great. Thanks. Well I guess if you need to drag me out of the recycling bin to comment on choreography, you all know how to reach me.

He storms out -- a bit unevenly on his boot -- leaving them awkwardly in his absence. Farkle clears his throat. The only who doesn’t seem uncomfortable is Maya, who shifts gears back to the matter at hand effortlessly. It’s just business, after all.

Maya: So star power --

INT. THRIFT SHOP - DAY

Riley is searching the racks for an outfit for the ‘70s dance, Charlie in tow. Every now and then, she’ll find a vintage shirt that’s his size and hold it up against his chest just on instinct, always on the lookout for her friends even if they’re not looking themselves.

Riley: It’s amazing how every color looks good on you. You should really consider branching out beyond neutrals and inoffensive shades of blue.

Tell us something we don’t know, Riles. Charlie brushes off her compliments, keeping his focus on the topic at hand while they shop. He’s seeking advice on how to handle arguing family members, since unfortunately, Riley has plenty of relevant experience with that. He’s had it in his family before with Bridgette, but he can’t remember much of it and honestly, one of the keys to their family dynamic is how most unpleasant things occur behind closed doors. Most of the time, they don’t even know when something is wrong with each other.

Riley: Do you have any more details? I feel like context would help.

Charlie: Nope. I only heard about it through Daisy, and when I tried to talk to Rosie, she wouldn’t budge.

Riley contemplates and admits she’s hesitant to try and give advice when the context is so vague and wide open, but ultimately the most important thing she thinks he could do is to continue being there for Rosie. He told her he was, and that’s the best he can do under the circumstances. If he actually witnesses another argument for himself, then that’s a different story.

Riley: But no matter what happens, try not to let yourself get caught in the middle of it. I mean, you should help where you can, but there’s nothing worse than trying to fix problems that aren’t yours and you can’t control. It’s between them, not you, and trying to mend it from the outside is only going to result in failure and frustration. You have to look out for your own well-being first. I wish someone had told me that before my parents fell apart.

Very important advice. Charlie thanks her and expresses sympathy for her messy parental situation again, but she shrugs it off and moves past it. Instead she finds another cute ‘70s material button down in classic sky blue, enthusiastically lifting it up to measure against Charlie.

Riley: Pair a blazer with this, and you’d be all set to boogie. Makes your eyes pop too… ugh, you’re so pretty it’s disgusting.

Charlie: I thought we were shopping for you, not me. I’m not the one who gets to disco.

Riley: Well, that’s not necessarily true. The fundraiser is open to everyone -- that’s the only way we’re going to make any profit, after all. And you know you’d be more than welcome.

Charlie: Yeah, maybe… with showdown so close and everything…

Riley: Charlie. [ holding his gaze ] You’re family. Forget showdown, forget east and west side. As long as I’m around, you fit. And I know for sure I’m not the only one who feels that way. Got it? Can you dig it?

Charlie, grateful: I can dig it.

Riley: Righteous. I’m serious though, what you should dig is this shirt.

As Riley shifts back to searching for her own look, they jump to chatting about college applications. Charlie asks how hers are going after she explains Lucas’s poorly concealed stress about them, and she claims they’re going fine.

Riley: I’m a pretty textbook candidate, all things considered, and my poor tragic backstory of being bullied out of school and divorced parents sure makes for great personal essay fodder.

Charlie: Kind of weird how they teach us to exploit our own trauma…

Riley: I’m definitely applying to Barnard, and I’ve decided I’m going to throw my hat in the ring for Tisch even though it’s basically the longest shot there is. Add in a handful of second choice picks and you get the idea. But honestly, I’m not all that pressed about it right now. I feel like it’s going to be way harder when acceptances and rejections come through and it’s all… real. I can throw any application out there I want and I don’t have to do anything about it. When I actually know what my options are… then it’ll be real. You know? When I actually have to decide what path I want to take. Because right now, I feel like I have no idea what I want that to be.

Charlie nods, agreeing wholeheartedly. He definitely knows the feeling of not having any idea what he wants the future to be… as the low hum of an unfamiliar instrument floats in…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Amazing Grace” as performed by The Military Band of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards || Performed by Dave Williams

In what is probably the weirdest performance AMBITION has seen to date, Dave stands alone in front of the classroom and goes to town on the bagpipes. Yes, apparently, Dave Williams can play the bagpipes (though whether he plays them well is a whole other story). And he gives it his all on this immensely famous tune, bewildering his peers and rendering them speechless.

That being said, while they can’t find any words, that doesn’t stop the A class from reacting. The expressions range from confused to stunned to struggling to keep it together. Maya stares in disbelief and then scrunches her face, looking around to see if anyone else is seeing this. Zay and Nigel are on the verge of tears from stifling their laughter; Yogi is misty-eyed from sheer emotion at his best friend’s… powerful performance. Nate mouths trying to sing along to the screechy tones with an absolutely delighted grin, while Dylan emulates the patriotic vibe by standing and giving a salute. Asher shakes his head from next to him, also hiding laughter behind his hand.

When Dave finally concludes, releasing a big exhale, the room is filled with silence for a long moment. Yogi starts the applause that the others uncertainly mimic, until Isadora finally, bluntly breaks the silence.

Isadora: Okay, I’m just going to say it -- what the hell, Dave?

Dave: What? Is something wrong?

Sarah: Where the hell did this come from? Are you seriously damaged?

Yindra: Forget that. I’m dying to know when you learned to play the bagpipes. And why have you deprived us of it for so long?

Farkle: The assignment is ‘70s music. How did you end up on “Amazing Grace?”

Dave, baffled: I don’t get what the big deal is. I found the song on a ‘70s playlist on Spotify, I can show you. And I looked it up -- the fig Newton dude wrote the song in 1779.

Clarissa: Fig newton --

Zay: [ at his wits end trying not to laugh ] I can’t. I can’t --

Dave: 1779! So it’s from the ‘70s.

All, in unison: 1970s, Dave!

Dave: … WHAT?!

The class descends into hysterics. Harper attempts to thank Dave for an… interesting performance, if nothing else.

Harley: I found it quite spirited. Very much enjoyed.

Dave huffs, marching back to his desk. He drops his bagpipes on the desktop --

EXT. AAA - REAR PARKING LOT - DAY

Which becomes a soapy sponge landing with a splat on the hood of a car, Haley working to scrub it clean. A few more quick shots help establish the setting -- Jeff and Darby untangling hoses; Riley and Chai filling up buckets of water; Asher ringing out a washcloth as far away from his body as he can stretch it, mildly disgusted.

Yes, Maya’s new fundraising scheme is in full swing -- a car wash! Cars are lining up for the A class to give a shining clean-up. Considering they threw the concept together in just a couple of days, it’s really not a shabby showing. Maya is praising her own quick thinking by the pay table, where they’re also selling baked goods. Zay is manning the cash box, since he can’t do much else.

Maya: I swear, sometimes my own mind amazes me. Never lets me down. And you can’t go wrong with a good old-fashioned classic.

Zay: Yeah, except car washes are usually in the summer. Not the dregs of autumn when we’re all going to get hypothermia.

Maya: It’s actually unseasonably warm today. And that’s the brilliance of it. Who else is doing a car wash in this weather economy? No competition, big bucks.

At least the weather is nice. With them out in their cotton shorts and tees to do all this work, Zay’s right to have reservations. But the sun is out, and the income has been steady thus far. Nate finishes off drying a car with Dylan, who has his hair pushed back with a tie-dye bandana.

Nate: You know, we should all just wet our shirts. That will get the girls and gays to come running.

Maya: [ into her bullhorn ] Don’t accelerate the hypothermia, Martinez. Keep it classy.

Nate: You’re turning down a million-dollar idea!

Maya waves him off, gesturing that he get back to work. And they all put it together real fast when another customer pulls up at the end of the line, EVELYN RAND emerging from her nice SUV and coming over to greet them. She commends them for their efficient set up.

Maya: That’s all thanks to me, Maya Penelope Hart. Vice President and overall go-getter. I’m the one that makes things happen.

Evelyn: And modest as they come, too.

Evelyn happily accepts Maya’s handshake, but she tosses a wink to Zay and Clarissa working the bake sale table. She claims she’s eager to help the cause, and she’s sure they’ll do an excellent job with her car. While she waits, she’s hoping to have a brief chat with Jack, so can she just leave her keys with them? She trusts them to move her vehicle twenty feet when it’s her turn.

Maya: Of course. We here in the A class pride ourselves on our care and attention. Your vehicle is safe with us.

Zay snorts, turning it into a cough. Evelyn hands over her keys pleasantly, waving to the rest of the kids working as she heads into the building. Maya spins the key ring on her finger for a moment, contemplating.

Maya: Can’t afford to screw this up. Gonna need someone extremely anal and annoyingly cautious to handle this one. [ into the bullhorn ] Garcia! Get your persnickety nonexistent ass over here!

Nigel arrives at that moment with a takeout bag in his hands. He tries to weave through the cars and avoid drill sergeant Maya as he heads towards the back entrance to the school, but unfortunately he’s not slick enough.

Maya: Chey! What do you think you’re doing? Cars are over here.

Nigel: Oh. Yes. Well, Jade’s holed up in the costume loft with all the projects she’s finishing…

Maya, unmoved: Uh huh.

Nigel: And I know she isn’t great about eating when she’s under this much stress, so I brought her some food to eat while she works. And I thought I’d go… give it to her… [ quickly ] okay, check you later.

He turns and speeds towards the entrance, making his swift escape. Riley saunters over to join them at the cash table, tilting her head fondly.

Riley: That’s so sweet.

Maya: Meh. A convenient excuse.

Zay: And how are you one to talk, Maya? You realize standing around shouting orders at everyone isn’t work.

Riley: Come on, Madam Vice President. Time to put in a little elbow grease.

Zay raises his eyebrows, accenting Riley’s challenge. Pride in jeopardy, Maya sniffs and relinquishes her bullhorn, placing it on the table. She spins and flips her ponytail over her shoulder, marching over to contribute to the cause. Riley and Zay exchange amused looks, while the boombox blasting the iconic opening hand claps takes over the soundscape...

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Car Wash” as performed by Rose Royce || Performed by Maya Hart (feat. AAA Seniors)

You all knew it was coming. The moment we started scrubbing those fenders, you should’ve seen it coming. Maya leads the A class in a funky rendition of the disco classic, swaying her hips and swinging her ponytail as they put in the hard work (though, somehow, Maya still manages to avoid most of the heavy lifting). She handles most of the verses, though Yindra also takes some of the spotlight with vocal runs. Nate perfects his slutdrop as he cleans tires.

In the midst of the grooving, the business is bumping. Interspersed amongst the performing we see Clarissa and Dylan charming patrons at the bake sale table, money changing hands, and Zay dutifully keeping track of everything as he mans the pay station.

On the last chorus, Maya has made her way onto a roof of one of the cars, Yindra, Haley, and Darby emulating her on the other cars they’re working on. The A class does some rad synced choreography to take the number home, Maya sliding down the front windshield and kicking up her leg before Farkle makes the finishing swipe of a washcloth across the hood.

Car wash! Zay deposits another payment into the cashbox, snapping it closed with a flourish.

Evelyn’s car is now closer to the front of the pack, and more business is still coming. Charlie makes his way over from the parking lot, waving to Riley as he makes his way over to the tables. Clarissa and Dylan greet him cheerfully, Riley and Maya jogging over from the line of cars. Zay doesn’t say anything, but offers a hesitant smile, which is better than nothing. Charlie mirrors it.

Clarissa comes out from behind the table to give him a hug, but warns him not to let Haley see him -- she’s soaked and will probably get him all damp. Charlie claims he didn’t plan to stay long, he just wanted to come by and see how things were going, as well drop off some baked goods they could sell that he and his sisters made. Dylan takes them happily. Maya asks where his car is and what kind of wash he wants, which Charlie awkwardly laughs off.

Charlie: I wouldn’t make you guys do that. But I can make a contribution --

Maya: Please, what do you think this is, a pity party? We don’t accept charity.

Zay: Yes we do.

Clarissa: We’ll take all the charity you’ve got.

Maya: This is a business, and we provide a service. So put your boring little sedan in line and turn your patronization into profit.

Riley: Maya, if he doesn’t want --

Charlie: You know what? Okay. [ raising his hands in surrender ] I’ll take whatever the easiest job is. Meet in the middle.

Fair enough. Maya relents, going back to shouting orders at others. Zay shows Charlie what their pricing options are, and though Charlie is going for the cheapest one, he overpays anyway.

Charlie: What Maya doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Zay: Yeah, and it’ll probably save us.

They exchange something close to a conspiratorial wink. Riley senses that they’re actually communicating without imminent disaster, so she comes over to join them. Charlie asks how business is going -- it seems to be moving pretty swiftly. Riley is optimistic, claiming that between this and the dance -- which is garnering a lot of buzz on social media -- they may just cover their expenses yet. At mention of the dance, Riley makes a quip about how Charlie should’ve bought that shirt at the thrift shop to wear, which catches Zay’s attention.

Zay: You’re coming?

Charlie: Oh, no. No, I wasn’t, um… I hadn’t really thought about it.

Zay: Oh.

Charlie, shyly: … would it be okay if I did?

Zay meets his eyes, uncharacteristically timid. He doesn’t know what to say, because he honestly doesn’t know how he feels about the possibility. Things aren’t as tense as they were before, and they’ve managed to break some of the ice that’s frozen them in place, but it’s far from thawed. He doesn’t know if he wants it to be or not. It’s all confusing, and being put on the spot proves just how much.

He’s spared from answering when Isadora pipes up from the curb.

Isadora: Oh, fuck no.

Charlie jumps, turning to search for the problem. Zay leans around him to look too. The issue is not hard to identify.

The Haverford boys. A whole bunch of them, rolling up in their classy cars, totally filling up the back end of the car wash line. Billy honks obnoxiously in his, waving to the washers working further down the row.

Brandon hops out of his car, the rest of the boys following suit. He leads the saunter over to the tables, where Maya, Farkle, and Isadora rush to head them off. Charlie stares as they approach, obviously mortified that they’re here; Zay frowns, glancing at him suspiciously.

Maya: What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re blocking the line.

Dweezil: Blocking? Is that any way to speak to a customer?

Isadora: One we’re about to kick the hell out, yeah.

The congregation bristles, but Brandon holds up his hands -- both out of innocence and to signal his crew to halt. He remains smooth and unbothered as ever, calmly stating that they’re simply here to support the cause.

Brandon: It’s the least we could do, showing up for the less fortunate. We want showdown to be a fair fight, don’t we?

Maya: Oh, if that’s what you’re looking for, we can give you a fight.

[ Brandon raises his eyebrows, clearly amused by Maya’s sharp spunk. ]

Farkle: How did you all even hear about this?

Brandon: Why, I would think that’s obvious. Charles told us.

[ Many eyes throw to Charlie at once. He swallows, dipping his head. ]

Brandon: Well, technically, he told Evan, but I don’t see why he didn’t just share it with the boys. Evan was more than happy to pass the message along, though, and we all thought it was just a swell idea. Quaint, really.

Billy: Yeah, where’s the lemonade stand? You should jump on that hot market next.

But belittlement aside, they really are here to get their cars washed. That’s all. The A class can take it or leave it, but if they choose to turn away willing customers then that’s their prerogative.

Well… business is business. Maya forces a smile, keeping her diva daggers locked on Brandon as she instructs Isadora and Farkle to go start filling the buckets. Brandon holds her glare, evenly matched with his cool, subtle smirk.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack is enjoying a catch-up with Angela over coffee, in generally good spirits all things considered. As he says, it’s nice to take a moment to forget all of the stress and just chat with a good friend. Angela is touched, placing her hand on her chest. She claims if her visit will be good for anything then, that’s a great reason.

The two of them get on the topic of her pregnancy, and how she’s feeling about impending motherhood. She confides that Shawn is way more nervous about it than she is, but ultimately she feels okay about it. Pregnancy isn’t the most fun experience in the world, but she has always thought that a family would be part of her future. Considering she’s not getting any younger, it feels like the right time.

She asks if Jack ever thought about having kids, and he grows a bit more somber. It’s not that he hasn’t thought about it… and to be honest, he figured if he did he’d beat Shawn to it, but clearly that wasn’t in his cards. And now here he is, coming off a failed serious relationship, already in his 40s…

Angela: It’s never too late, Jack. If it’s something you really want. I mean, hell, look at Eric! He skipped all the hard stuff, too.

Jack: I guess that is one way to look at Isadora’s tragic loss…

Angela: I’m just saying, never say never. You’re a great mentor, responsible and fair, and you care. You care a lot. If you chose to try, whether by yourself or with a partner, I think you’d be a great dad.

Maybe… it all just feels so out of the realm of possibility. Besides, he argues, he basically has 200 kids at any given time to take care of. It’s not the same, no, but he watches out for the Adams students as seriously as he would his own. And you know, sometimes…

Jack: Every once in a while, it kind of feels like they are.

It’s not hard to guess who he’s thinking about. Angela starts to question him further, thinking this is probably a meaningful discussion to have, but they’re interrupted by Evelyn knocking briskly on the door. She greets both of them cheerfully.

Evelyn: So nice to see you again, Angela! I do hope I’m not intruding on anything important -- I meant to come sooner, but I got caught up in a riveting chat with Mister Keiner.

Jack: No, of course not.

Angela: In fact, I was just getting ready to head out, so I will get out of your hair.

Jack: I just wasn’t expecting you.

Evelyn: No need to rush, Angela. [ to Jack ] I’m just here to participate in that splendid car wash you’ve got out back. They’ve got a great little operation going, I have to say. And that Maya Hart -- talk about a firecracker.

Jack: Trust us, we’re quite familiar with her spark.

Angela bids both of them goodbye, promising Jack she’ll see him later. Once they’re alone, Evelyn commends Jack on inspiring his students to find creative ways to fund their financial endeavors. Especially given how their original proposal for the scholarships was voted down at the school board. In her opinion, she was hoping they’d at least contribute a portion -- she thought it was a nifty idea.

Jack: Yes, they weren’t thrilled to hear the decision either.

Evelyn: It’s disappointing, although hardly surprising considering the way Jefferson campaigned behind closed doors. He’s got a fairly influential stake in the voting bloc, unfortunately.

Jack: What? What do you mean?

Evelyn: Oh, Jack, I thought you already knew. It was an extremely close vote on the board to provide funding, but Jefferson tipped the scales against it. He and Yancy basically talked it down for days with colleagues before the actual tally.

Um, no, Jack did not know about that, and it obviously pisses him off. He’s speechless, trying to process the blatant partisan maneuvers being played against them within the inner workings of the board. Especially from someone who is now working within the walls of AAA. He knew Yancy didn’t like him, but this…

EXT. AAA - REAR PARKING LOT - DAY

The Haverford boys are loitering while they wait for the A class to finish cleaning their cars, showing how completely unbothered they are to hang around and watch their competitors sweat. Charlie is also hovering to nervously keep an eye on things, staying with Clarissa at the baked goods table and nibbling on a sugar cookie.

From where he’s scrubbing Dweezil’s windshield dry, Nate glares at them derisively.

Nate: Rich pricks. I should smash this damn window…

Yogi: Easy, bulldog.

Dave: Just smile and wash, boys. Smile and wash.

Thankfully, they’re efficient, and it doesn’t take them long to grit their teeth through the work. Maya slaps her washcloth against Brandon’s hood, declaring it finished, then marches her way back over to where he’s slouched against a lamp pole near the pay table.

Maya: Alright, knock-off Warblers, your cars are done.

Evan: Warblers?

Dweezil: From Glee.

Billy: Ha! She thinks we watched Glee.

Bottom line is, their business here is done, so they can roll their asses out. Maya essentially shoos them, but Zay pipes up from the pay table.

Zay: Um, they can’t go yet. They’ve still got a tab to settle.

Maya: They didn’t pay upfront?

Billy: Well, couldn’t very well do that. Why would we pay you before we get any proof that you’re going to do a good job? It’s simply smart shopping.

Clarissa: Well, the job is done now. So you can pay up.

Brandon: Ooh… see, I think there might’ve been a misunderstanding here.

Charlie tenses, sensing impending doom. He steps out from behind the table in case he needs to mediate, just as Isadora and Farkle march back over with their buckets and rags to see what the hold up is. They’ve got other potential customers waiting.

Brandon: Another smart business practice is to agree on the terms and conditions before you make a deal. Now, we always knew our payment was going to be contingent on the quality of the work. Sure, Babineaux here laid out the pricing for us, but we didn’t get anything in writing. You didn’t get our John Hancocks signing off on it.

Zay: You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Charlie, nervously: Come on, guys --

Maya: So you mean to tell me that we just spent the better part of an hour scrubbing your ungrateful little shits until they shined, and blocking other well-intentioned customers from coming in the meantime, only for you to stiff us at checkout?

Dweezil: At least we made you look busy.

Billy: Yeah, consider it practice. We know you could use all of that you can get.

Brandon: [ with a shrug ] Should’ve gotten it in writing.

Isadora: Yeah? Well how about you fucking get this --

She and Farkle snap first, lifting their buckets and sloshing them directly at Brandon. It catches him off-guard, totally dousing him in sudsy water.

Charlie: Oh no.

Riley, from the curb: Oh no.

Billy: Oh, hell no!

Hit the queen bee, feel the sting of the workers! The Havies immediately fire back, grabbing whatever they can get their hands on -- hoses, abandoned buckets -- and lobbing it back at Isadora and Farkle.

And with that, it’s a full-on brawl. Water and soap flying in every direction, the other Havies and Adams seniors launching into the battle without hesitation. Maya shrieks as she’s soaked, shouting for her classmates to take the Havies out. Zay salvages the cash box and dives under the table, taking cover.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack is still searching for what to say in response to the bombshell information Evelyn dropped, but Harley leaps in the doorway and gets both their attention.

Harley: Major problem at the car wash. It’s completely devolved.

Jack exchanges a quick look with Evelyn, then jumps up from his chair.

EXT. AAA - REAR PARKING LOT - DAY

Jack and Harley emerge as the water fight is in full swing, and basically everyone is dripping in soap water. Jack takes control and marches into the fray, stepping into authoritarian mode and demanding that all of the nonsense cease. The Adams students drop their weapons immediately, not daring to get even a drop on their principal.

Though he doesn’t command the same respect with the Haverford boys, they don’t push it any further. They got what they came for, managing to derail the car wash and pull a fast one on the A class. They cackle with laughter as they sprint back to their cars, piling inside in record time and peeling out of the parking lot.

Brandon’s car is one of the last to leave, catching the eye of Maya, Zay, and Charlie through the passenger window. He smirks and tosses a wink in their direction, but it’s impossible to say who it was meant for. Maybe all of them.

None of them look especially pleased either way. Maya shoots a death glare at Charlie, even though he arguably got the worst of it, completely drenched from head to toe. If he was in on the whole thing, he looks pretty miserable about it.

Break 1.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Now in fresh, comfy clothes and bare faces, Riley, Isadora and Maya lounge around in Isa’s bedroom. Maya’s hair is up in a towel wrap, while Riley’s is down and in the process of drying, and Isadora’s is pulled back into a messy bun. Isadora is also wearing her glasses rather than usual contacts. With a stretch, Maya hops from the bed.

Maya: I never want to work like that ever again. I’m exhausted, in pain, and starving. Is this Hell?

Riley: You truly weren’t built for working class, were you?

Tell her about it! Maya disappears to raid Eric’s fridge, leaving Riley and Isadora free from her complaints. Isadora uses the opportunity to pick Riley’s brain.

Isadora: What do you think our chances are in the showdown? Full disclosure.

Riley: Full disclosure? Not great. [ with a sigh ] But we could still pull through. If we work hard enough, and come together to --

Isadora: I don’t need the full spiel, but thanks. I know how stressed Lucas and Maya are about it, and I’m considering -- considering is the key word here -- offering to perform. You know, if it would help.

Riley’s face lights up, but upon seeing Isadora’s level glare, tries to suppress her smile. She fails.

Isadora: Don’t look at me. Forget I said anything.

Riley: Aw, come on. I’m happy you’re thinking about it yourself instead of, like, being peer pressured by Maya or something.

Isadora: She’s very nearly at her breaking point, I can tell. Every day her will to just let me be is deteriorating bit by bit.

Riley: I think… not to get too Uncle Eric here, but I feel like because you keep thinking of performing as doing it in front of an audience, like being judged, it’s holding you back. You should just do it for the joy of it. Why were you drawn to performing in the first place?

Isadora, reluctantly: … because it was fun...

Riley: Exactly! Because it’s fun. You have to have fun with it.

In fact… Riley brightens with an idea, reaching for her phone and searching for a song.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Lady Marmalade” as performed by LaBelle || Performed by Riley Matthews, Maya Hart & Isadora De La Cruz

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

As the bass and keys begin, Riley stands up on Isadora’s bed, pulling her up with her. Riley sings the initial “hey sister, go sister” to Isadora, who stands awkwardly in the middle of the bed, not looking all that impressed.

In the first verse, Maya walks into the room with her haul from the kitchen. Her mouth opens when she sees Riley singing.

Maya: Are we doing this? Okay, we’re doing this.

She drops the snacks without a care, jumping onto the bed to join Riley -- just in time for the chorus. They move around Isadora as they belt out iconic vocals, trying to get her in the groove.

Maya takes on the second verse with Riley on the backing vocals. Although Isadora tries to remain stoic, she can’t help but begin to vibe with them. By the end of the next chorus, she’s singing along, too. In French, no less! But maybe let’s not look up the lyric translation…

In the instrumental break, the three girls get down from the bed and strut forwards towards the door. They pass through it one at a time, puffs of makeup and glitter blowing around them in slow-mo as they do.

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

This time, the temporary performance space is the lecture hall, which is an inspired choice since it actually has a pseudo-stage and lighting capabilities.

When they emerge onto the small stage, they’re in full glam. Hair glossy, makeup glowing, and outfits iconique. They each wear a skintight jumpsuit along with oversized faux fur coats. Riley’s getup is a white jumpsuit and yellow coat, Isadora’s is a blue jumpsuit and pink coat, and Maya’s is a pink jumpsuit and white coat. They strut to the front of the stage, spotlights on them.

Isadora takes charge of the next verse, confidently singing and dancing with her friends by her side. Riley and Maya come in towards the end, before all three complete the rest of the song together. It’s glamorous, it’s sultry, it’s powerful. Foxy, ladies!

We fade out of the performance to see the rest of the class and Harper as they applaud. Although the girls don’t look quite as glam out of the performance-dreamscape, they look just as badass. Lucas and Farkle in particular seem stunned by the performance.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Zay hands over the cash box from the car wash to Lucas.

Zay: Despite the carnage, the most important thing survived.

And, in spite of the disastrous end, it seems like they made good for their work. They raked in a pretty penny for all the scrubbing and washing -- it’s far from all that they need, but it should make a sizable dent in the auditorium accident debt. And that’s not nothing.

Lucas thanks Zay for his help and for watching the money, getting up to put it in a safe place in the booth. He claims he can’t do it until Zay leaves, though, since there are certain things only he should know about the booth. Zay rolls his eyes but obliges, throwing in an offhand comment about how weird he is before slowly making his way out.

As he’s heading down the steps, he passes by Missy, who is casually making her way up into the booth. Like she goes up there all the time, like it’s no big deal. She even greets Zay as they pass, which he uncertainly returns. He frowns at her over his shoulder as she heads on up, obviously confused by her presence.

As confidently as she enters, Lucas evidently wasn’t expecting her either. He jumps when she addresses him, moving away from wherever he stashed the car wash cash. When he realizes it’s her, his posture grows even more defensive.

Lucas: What are you doing in here?

Missy: Only what anyone would deem visiting this musty space worthy for. I’m looking for you.

Lucas: I don’t know if you missed the memo, but people don’t waltz in here whenever they want. No matter how privileged they are.

Missy laughs, allowing him the dig. Following their increasingly common rapport, back-and-forth that straddles the line between friendly fire and hostility depending on your lens. She maintains innocence as she waits for him to settle back in his usual chair, claiming she only wanted to discuss the current A class financial crisis.

Missy: I heard your little car wash wasn’t half-bad. Congratulations are in order. Though I don’t believe I heard much about you out there breaking a sweat to wash those vehicles...

Lucas: You can congratulate the rest of the class when you see them.

Missy: Shame. I’d think if we put you out there front and center, you might’ve garnered a greater profit.

Lucas: Please.

Missy: You shouldn’t undersell yourself, Lucas. It worked for Chubbies, did it not?

If her increased patronage is any indication, then technically, yes. But Lucas doesn’t seem keen to acknowledge that. She moves closer and hops onto the lighting booth table, crossing her glossy legs where they are in perfectly accessible view. In a place where Riley often sits. It just feels wrong. Lucas averts his gaze, looking down at the soundboard instead.

Missy: Anyway, as cute as the fundraising effort is, I don’t exactly see the point.

Lucas: Well, for those of us not in the 1%, there’s this annoying everyday thing we have to do called “acquiring money.” I’m sure that’s probably confusing for you --

Missy: I meant for Adams. Or for the A class, more specifically. I don’t see why you all should be out there sweating through manual labor… when you could just ask me for the money.

Oh. Well that’s… an interesting proposition. Lucas is surprised she’s even offering it, enough to lift his head again to meet her eyes.

Lucas: … it’s hundreds of dollars…

Missy, coolly: Drop in the bucket. [ looking him over ] Surely you would know that by now.

Lucas hesitates, contemplating. Missy observes him, watching for the chinks in his armor. Those rare moments when he’s not as aloof and disdainful as their banter leads her to believe.

Lucas: I don’t see why you would help when it does nothing to benefit you.

Missy: Isn’t helping the class helping me in the end? [ off his skeptical eyebrow raise ] And oh, they’ll find a way to pay us back somehow. Every debt gets paid eventually. Name on an auditorium seat, plaque outside the lecture hall. That’s the charity solution to everything, slapping your name on something. I’m sure daddy would love to have the Bradford name in gold somewhere in this heap considering the chilly reception Hunter gave us when all this started.

Missy found about a dozen unintentional trigger words to throw in that sentence to change Lucas’s tune. Whether the most credit can be given to the word “charity,” or invoking Jack in a negative light is debatable, but Lucas is suddenly even stonier than before. He clenches his jaw.

Missy, softer: It’s not like you haven’t already accepted donations from the Bradford fortune… and that’s lightened the load, hasn’t it? Nothing wrong with that. [ a beat ] And you and me… I wouldn’t call us friends, but we certainly have… our own thing here. Don’t we? We… mean something. To one another.

Lucas drops his gaze again, cornered. The very insinuation that they have a relationship in any capacity makes him uncomfortable… but then, it’s not wrong, is it? If he’s willingly taking her money, knowingly, then that does symbolize some sort of association. He can’t in good conscience deny it, not when her money is a big chunk of the reason his future is even possible. And she could take all the pressure off them, off him, in an instant… no more fundraising… no more sweating over showdown… scholarships guaranteed…

But his instincts are stronger than that. It’s too good to be true. Everything comes with a cost, and while he might be willing to risk that here and there for his own feeble endeavors, he’s not going to tie his legacy and the rest of the class to it. He returns her eye contact, resolute.

Lucas: If your family wants to donate to the cause, then by all means do. But I’m not asking you for anything. I don’t beg.

Well said and well meant! For what it’s worth, Missy doesn’t seem put off by the rejection. If anything, she seems impressed by his stubborn resistance, even if she knows damn well it’s full of contradictions. Impressed, and definitely stirred by that same fire that captivated her the first time they met during the school board trial. The tension in the air makes that loud and clear.

Missy: No, no you don’t, do you. All part of your… provocative charm.

Message received, it appears… some message, at least… Missy slips off the table and begins to make her exit, assuring Lucas that she understands his perspective. Some things are better kept quiet, and she gets his need to maintain appearances -- and his pride.

Missy: It’s our little secret. And I get where we stand. [ with a smirk ] I think we understand each other better than one might assume.

The mere notion makes Lucas a bit queasy, but he keeps his mouth shut. Missy bids him adieu and disappears down the steps, wishing the Slumdog President the best of luck with his continuing financial campaigning.

Even once she’s gone, Lucas can’t shake off the discomfort of her presence. He has to get up, walk it off, gathering his things and fleeing from the space -- one of the few he’s never felt the need to escape from before.

EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - COURTYARD - DAY

Charlie is having lunch with BRIDGETTE GARDNER, occupying their typical table in the grassy outdoor space. She listens attentively as he catches her up on all of the stuff with their sisters, Charlie clearly seeking counsel from the one person who has been on the other side of this potential falling out. Does she think he should be worried, based on her own experience?

Bridgette: And you haven’t seen any of this for yourself?

Charlie: No, at least not yet. But I don’t think that means much -- I had no idea most of this stuff was going on with you until it was already way too late. When I first saw you having arguments with mom, it was volcano level.

Bridgette: To be fair, you were what, 14? Even younger than that when it all started. But true. Our family is really good at concealing the ugly, and then pretending it doesn’t exist when the moment has passed.

Charlie: And this is coming from Daisy. You know she wouldn’t make things up just for the hell of it.

Bridgette: Also true. She sure is an unaffected little freak. [ a beat ] I say that with love. Every Gardner has to be fucked up one way or another.

Still, with so little firsthand information, it’s hard to say. She doesn’t think Charlie should tie himself in knots trying to problem-solve something he can’t see, but…

Bridgette: Look out for Rosie if you can. You know, keep an eye out. If history is going to repeat itself, and she’s following in my forsaken footsteps… I don’t want her to go through that. She shouldn’t have to go through what I went through. Not that I’m not fine now --

Charlie: Right.

Bridgette: But she’s not tough like I am. And I mean that in the best way possible. Rosie… she’s sensitive. Sweet. Her heart is right there on her sleeve, even if she tries to act like she’s all grit. [ softly ] Reminds me of another sibling I’ve got.

Charlie smiles, but underneath the kind words she’s confirming his concerns. If the stormy energy around Rosie does whip up into a hurricane, then it’s looking more and more likely to be an unavoidable disaster. History may just repeat itself -- and more brutally than before.

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

Rosie isn’t the only one in a tempestuous mood. Jade is in full-on crunch mode as her deadlines loom ever closer, and even though she’s been basically holed up in the costume loft at all hours she still feels miles from the finish line. She’s skipping lunch to wrap up a couple of last-minute additions to another piece of her portfolio, using Asher as her mannequin. Currently, he’s sporting a rather fancy, outlandishly patterned and bold blouse over his maroon polo. It looks like it could be a ‘70s dance shirt, or the wardrobe of a funky, flamboyant villain, or perhaps an especially stylish swashbuckling pirate… but it’s a Jade Beamon original, so it looks fantastic.

If only the job of mannequin was as fun as the clothes he’s modeling. Asher is gritting his teeth so hard they might crack, cringing every time Jade threads her needle through a piece of it or sticks a pin somewhere. She’s an expert, a professional, but given her stress level she’s missed the mark more than once the last couple of days.

Jade, snapping: If you didn’t wince every two seconds like a little baby, then maybe I would stick you less.

Asher: [ through his teeth ] The two dozen pin prick battle scars I have beg to differ!

Nigel picks that moment to enter, catching the tail-end of their sharp exchange and clocking the vibes immediately. He hesitates by the door, not sure whether he should come in and interrupt anymore or not, but Jade spots him before he can duck out. She immediately loses some of her unpleasantness, straightening up and clearing her throat.

Jade: Nigel.

Nigel: Um… hello. [ holding up lunch ] I know you’re working through lunch again, so I just thought I’d bring something by.

Jade: Oh, that’s… that’s nice. You don’t have to keep doing that.

Nigel: It’s all good. I like being able to help. It’s the least I could do, make sure you eat.

Asher: Someone should.

Jade: I’m still holding pins, Asher…

As if that wasn’t signal enough, Nigel bravely ventures the question of how costuming is going this afternoon. Jade claims it’s all fine, and Asher repeats her comment in a tone that makes it very clear he doesn’t agree. Sensing that the best friends might benefit from a break from one another, Nigel offers to hang around and be her stand-in for a while.

Jade: Really?

Asher, hopeful: Really?

Nigel: Sure. All I have to do is stand there and look pretty, right? Think I can manage that. You know, if I clear the costumer’s standards, of course.

Jade: No, no you -- of course. Of course you do. You’re more than -- obviously, you’re up to standard. I mean, above. I, um…

Asher can’t help but laugh, but he hides it behind a fake sneeze. Jade shoots him a glare, then states it would be preferable actually for him to take Asher’s place for now. It seems like Bird Bones agrees, hopping down from the step stool and carefully removing the fanciful top.

Asher: It’s for the best anyway. I’m supposed to be helping Dylan proofread his college essays. I want to check mine one more time too -- Jade says reading them over seven times is more than enough, but pot meet kettle.

Nigel: A Dylan Orlando personal essay, huh? I’d pay to see that.

Asher: I’m sure he’d let you read it for no charge. One of the applications he’s filling out had the prompt to “describe a work of art from the last century that surprised, inspired, or challenged you and in what way,” so he wrote a whole thesis statement on why Taylor Swift’s album Lover is the most important contribution to art, culture, and society since the invention of music.

Nigel: Wow.

Jade: Of course he did.

Asher: I’ll be genuinely surprised if it’s not a video essay on his vlog in like four months. But you know what, no admissions officer can say he doesn’t have enthusiasm.

True that! Asher makes his grateful exit, handing the piece over to Nigel and wishing him luck. Jade giggles nervously once they’re alone, Nigel smiling and asking if he should just put the shirt on and stand where Asher was. She confirms, avoiding her gaze by digging through her sewing kit until he’s all set and ready to be pinned and needled.

Nigel: I hope I’m doing your work justice.

Jade: You, um… it’s good. You’re good. Ha ha.

She nervously pushes some hair behind her ear, then steps closer to get back to work. If anything can overpower shyness, it’s the stress of an impending deadline upon which your entire future rests. Jade softly explains to Nigel what she’s doing as she does it, since he’s never been her model before, and reassures her that he’s not worried and she can do whatever.

Nigel: I trust you, Jade. You are the expert, after all.

Jade glances up at him, processing the compliment. The declaration of trust. The fact that they’re standing so close, that if he just stepped down off the stool they’d be close enough to… it’s a lot. Sophomore year Jade would probably have ran and hid by now, if not passed out.

But this is the present, and Jade has work to do. So she swallows her butterflies and focuses on her needlework.

Quiet settles over them for a minute, then Nigel speaks again, barely above a whisper.

Nigel: You’re incredible, you know that?

Jade: Huh?

Caught by surprise, Jade’s hand slips… and accidentally sticks Nigel with the needle. He winces and she immediately launches into apologies, retracting her hands to drop the needle and asking if he’s okay. He promises he’s fine, keeping her from spiraling over it by taking her hand so she can’t drift any further away in retreat.

Nigel: Really, I’m good.

Jade: … so you were saying?

Nigel: Yeah. I just wanted you to know… I hope you know how amazing you are. I know you’re super stressed about all this and what these schools and programs are going to think of you, but they’d be insane to reject you.

Jade: I don’t know if I’d go that far.

Nigel: I would. I mean, you’ve made basically every costume we’ve worn for the last three years -- which I know everyone keeps throwing back at you -- and they’re fantastic. Not just because they look good, which they always do, but they’re durable. No matter how gorgeous they look, they can withstand a lot. When we finish a production, they’re worn in, but it’s still as if they’re freshly stitched. That’s impressive. Trust me, I’ve been in enough local Shakespeare productions to say so. One time a piece of my tunic fell off in the middle of the first act.

Jade laughs, charmed by the story and calmed enough by his gentle tone to actually breathe. Nigel smiles at her, fond.

Nigel: You’re reliable. That’s the best thing a person can be, in my opinion. And you’re talented to the extreme, hard-working, humble… I mean, is there anything you can’t do?

Jade: [ with a snort ] Socialize.

The word slips out, and Jade is instantly embarrassed by it. She hides her blush in digging to grab her needles again, going back to work as an excuse not to elaborate.

Nigel: Seriously? You’ve never struck me as without company. With the techies --

Jade: Oh, yeah, that’s the height of engagement. Just me and a bunch of emotionally inept teenage boys plus Dora, getting up to the same old shenanigans. Every girl’s dream. [ with a sigh ] Don’t get me wrong, I love them. Especially Asher, he’s my best friend. And I’m not saying I’m like, a recluse or anything, I have friends, I just… I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m talking about this. Sorry.

Nigel: No worries. I don’t mind. But for what it’s worth, I don’t see you that way. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend. I know I am. [ a beat ] Or like, any kind of relationship…

Jade coughs, not prepared for that. She giggles compulsively again, frantically brushing off the thought as she focuses intently on pinning a piece of the fabric into place.

Jade: I haven’t… ha, I’m so busy, I… a relationship… I don’t have the time to even…

Though she can’t form a coherent sentence, Nigel gets the message. Not available right now. And he admittedly looks a bit disappointed, but he puts his acting credit to use and swiftly covers with another smile.

Nigel: Well, again. Anyone would be lucky. And in the meantime, I’m just happy to support you however I can. Even at risk of puncture wound.

Jade absorbs this, unable to hold back her shy smile. She murmurs a thank you, then hides by throwing all her attention to the task at hand.

But for Nigel, the only thing he can focus on is her. So incredible… and so close… as the easy bass line floats in…

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “How Deep Is Your Love” as performed by Bee Gees || Performed by Nigel Chey (feat. Dylan Orlando)

The lights are low and the set-up is simple, just Nigel on the stage with a microphone stand and sporting the finished product of one of Jade’s ‘70s costumes -- a glossy gold suit, styled like Saturday Night Fever, over a black silk shirt. He’s shimmering like a disco ball under the stage lights, reflecting the whimsical, dreamy quality of the number.

The only other person on the stage with him is Dylan, accompanying him on bass and providing back-up vocals. He’s dressed much simpler, dressed in black and wearing his custom-made Jade Beamon original suit jacket from junior prom. His hair is the ‘70s-ified element, swept up and combed back like John Travolta. While he happily lets Nigel hog the spotlight, he does take a moment in the performance to wink to Asher in the audience.

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

Intercut with the performance, we check back in with Nigel and Jade in the loft, doing a metaphorical dance of their own around each other as Jade costumes. There’s something surprisingly amorous about the set-up when it’s paired with the ballad. Jade remains oblivious, studiously sewing away, but the romantic tension is more than apparent, in Nigel’s expression and the smooth delivery of his vocals as he looks at her.

And you may not think I care for you When you know down inside that I really do…

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

While she’s good at avoiding him while at work, Jade can’t keep her eyes off Nigel during the performance. Clarissa, Haley, and Asher cast knowing glances at her, but she doesn’t pay them any attention. In the back seats, Nate, Dave, and Jeff sway along to the beat playfully.

Cause we're living in a world of fools Breaking us down when they all should let us be

Ultimately, though, even if certain truths remain unsaid, what can’t be denied is an excellent performance. Nigel brings it home with grace, understated as always but, in this case, pretty swoonworthy.

We belong to you and me…

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay is on the phone with Riley, the latter walking him through all of the bulletins from that day’s showdown discussion. He listens eagerly, living vicariously, but it’s obvious he’s also frustrated that he’s being excluded. He reminds Riley that they can call on him at any time to brainstorm on choreography or reevaluate concepts, but she gently waves him off by insisting she doesn’t want to put any additional pressure on him.

Zay: Well, to be honest, not being consulted kind of makes me feel more --

Riley: Oh, shoot, Maya’s here. She’s supposed to be meeting with Farkle after his therapist appointment this evening, so I’m sure she just has a bunch of notes she wants to Maya-splain to me first.

Zay: If she wants to get on speaker, then she could --

Riley: I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? And I’ll let you know if anything major happens. Love you!

Zay: But Riley --

She hangs up before he can get a word in, even a goodbye. He sighs and drops his phone on his bed, pulling his laptop back towards him. He has his applications webpage open, where he’s painstakingly attempting to piece together the final elements of his portfolio. It’s not in bad shape, but with the glooming reality of his booted foot and inability to make anything more, it doesn’t feel like enough. It feels like being trapped.

He grabs his phone again, obviously wanting to talk to someone about it. But he can’t talk to Riley -- he knows she’s busy. He can’t talk to Yindra. He can’t talk to Maya -- and nor would he want to, thank you very much.

Charlie…

He could talk to Charlie. God, he wants to talk to Charlie. And they’ve opened up the lines of communication again, haven’t they? Couldn’t it be easy, like it was before? All he has to do is say something… but he doesn’t know what that would be. It’s still confusing and twisted up inside him. And whatever happened with Haverford at the car wash is admittedly suspicious, though it just doesn’t feel right to think Charlie would do something like that.

Confusing. Complicated. Stuck. He’s stuck, stuck, stuck.

INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - NIGHT

Farkle plops down onto Dr. Han’s couch, releasing a dramatic sigh and telling her there’s much to discuss (as there usually is). He starts to rattle off about the showdown drama because of Zay’s injury and how he and Isadora dumped water on their greatest rival at the moment, but Dr. Han carefully interrupts. She explains that there’s actually something she wants to open this appointment with, something that she thinks it’s important to start exploring as soon as possible. Farkle is confused but intrigued, sitting upright and gesturing for her to go on.

She turns to her notes, pulling out a couple of prepared informational sheets and taking on a gentler, more professional tone. She explains that after their last few meetings, she thought a lot about some of the patterns Farkle had been mentioning in his recovery. She decided to follow her hunch and do a little more research, and she thinks she’s landed on what might be the root after conferring with his primary care physician.

Dr. Han: It’s my belief that you show all the clear symptoms of bipolar disorder.

It’s like all the air gets sucked out of the room. Farkle freezes, staring at her, but words stop making sense. She continues to explain how common it is for it to be misdiagnosed as depression, how now they can focus on proper treatment for his actual affliction, how it’s just as manageable with the right approach, but it’s like she’s talking underwater. Everything feels hazy, static, like Farkle is suddenly a thousand miles away.

Farkle: No. No, I -- I can’t be.

Dr. Han: I understand that an unexpected diagnosis can be intimidating. And bipolar disorder, like most mental conditions, is shrouded in a lot of misrepresentation and stigma. But with the right perspective --

Farkle: I’m not. I can’t… I have to go.

Farkle blankly gets to his feet, suddenly certain he has to get out of there. It’s like he’s underwater now too, like he can’t breathe. Dr. Han warns that he’s likely just having a strong reaction to the news, anxiety, but she assures him that the diagnosis does not change anything about him or his prospects. If anything, it will improve things, because now they can confront his reality with the right tools. And it will be safest for him to just relax here and process it during their session.

But no, Farkle can’t stay. He numbly repeats that he has to go, ignoring Dr. Han’s disagreement and stepping out of the office.

INT. THERAPIST’S BUILDING - HALLWAY - NIGHT

Farkle doesn’t stop until he’s fully out of her space, back in the endless office sprawl of a building like this. He waits a moment, dreading Dr. Han chasing after him and dragging him back in there, but she doesn’t come. He collapses back against the door, releasing a shaky exhale and screwing his eyes shut.

Bipolar. He’s bipolar.

A gentle piano begins to play, an iconic familiar riff while we stay close on Farkle’s face.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “All By Myself” as performed by Eric Carmen || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Zay Babineaux

Farkle takes the first lines of this legendary ode to isolation, singing them softly as the camera slowly eases away from him. The further away we pull, the more his sense of smallness grows, dwarfed by the hallway that seems to stretch on forever.

When I was young, I never needed anyone… those days are gone…

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay pushes off his mattress and rises to his feet, going a bit too fast at first out of habit and nearly stumbling on his bad ankle. He cringes, falling back on the edge of the bed to right himself. He huffs and hides his head in his hands, easing into the next lines.

Living alone, I think of all the friends I’ve known But when I dial the telephone, nobody’s home…

EXT. THERAPIST’S BUILDING - NIGHT

Farkle emerges onto the steps of the building in the financial district just in time to launch into the chorus. He carries on singing as he begins to make his way home, weaving through the streets and other passersby as if he’s invisible. Although he’s clearly emotional, it’s evident the information hit him hard, because he’s not at all at his usual level of verve.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay keeps it tamped down whenever it passes back to him as well, though his limitations are outside of his control. He spends his portion of the vocals at his window, leaning out to breath in the life and excitement of the city he loves that he feels so locked out of.

Whether within or without the city, for vastly different reasons, both Zay and Farkle are feeling the same ache.

INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT

Farkle makes it home in time for the piano solo, showing off his proficiency on the instrument lest we dared to forget. Then he and Zay harmonize on the final, showstopping chorus, delivering a whammy even when they’re not quite in top form.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay rounds out the number, stepping away from his window and shutting it forlornly.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Maya is back to brainstorming in the Minkus home as promised, pacing in front of the moodboard they’ve been working off of for weeks. She’s avidly running through potential pitfalls to their showdown prospects, which seem to be piling up by the minute, while Farkle is seated on the edge of his bed. He’s stone-faced, truly lost in his own head now, and Maya doesn’t fail to notice. As she’s ticking off more items on their doomsday list, she halts and gives him an unimpressed glare.

Maya: … and an inattentive diva. [ snapping in his face ] Farkle! Earth to Farkle!

Farkle: What? Oh, sorry.

Maya: I swear, you have been exceptionally offbeat this week. Of all the times, too, naturally it would be our greatest time of crisis that your zany passion eludes us. Honestly, Farkle, where for art thou? Why have you abandoned me in our time of need?

Farkle: I’m bipolar.

Maya: Okay? And I’m a narcissist. Just because we use pretty words doesn’t change the state of the union, darling.

Farkle, shaky: No, like, I’m literally bipolar.

Maya pauses, actually looking at him. His tone convinces her that he’s not being cheeky, and his sallow expression drives it home. Her demeanor shifts instantly, dropping much of her diva arrogance.

Maya: What?

Farkle: I’m bipolar. I don’t know how many more times I can say it.

Maya: I heard you, I just -- when? How?

Farkle: My whole life, presumably. How, ask God for me.

Maya: Well… well, like, what does that mean? Like, so you’re bipolar, well, what does that mean for --

Farkle: I don’t know. I don’t know, my psychiatrist just told me. I didn’t… I didn’t do a great job of listening to what came after that.

Wow. Silence reigns as Maya attempts to process this new information. Farkle speaks again, even more uncharacteristically timid than before.

Farkle: I know this is bad timing. Just… with this, and everything at school, I don’t know how on top of it I can --

Maya: No, no, of course not. Shh. It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about all that. You need to focus on yourself. On this. Don’t worry about Triple A. I’ll handle it.

Farkle: But Maya --

Maya: I’ve got it. It’s okay.

She pats his shoulders reassuringly, then turns it into a hug. Farkle hesitates for a moment before returning the embrace, desperately leaning into the comfort. Maya remains stalwart for the both of them, features intense as her mind runs to problem-solve a million miles an hour. Based on the furrow of her brow, it seems she might already be onto something.

Maya: I’m going to handle it.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley, Isadora and Eric sit around the dining table, chatting casually after finishing their meals. Eric looks between the two girls with a warm smile before offering to clear up.

Riley: I’ll help.

Riley gets up to help Eric clean away the plates, but Isadora places a hand on Riley’s arm to stop her. Riley gives her a questioning look.

Isadora: I actually… I have something I want to show you. In my room. [ to Eric ] If that’s okay?

Eric: Of course, go ahead. I’m perfectly capable of filling up the dishwasher on my own.

Intrigued, Riley follows Isadora into her bedroom.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isadora goes straight to her desk and opens up a notebook to reveal Valerie’s letter. She passes it to a confused Riley, who takes a moment to look over it. When she realizes what it is, she looks up at Isadora with wide eyes.

Riley: Is this…?

Isadora: [ with a nod ] A letter to my father. I found it in one of Val’s boxes. You’re the first person I’m telling so don’t… don’t tell Eric or anything.

Riley: Oh, totally. Sure. [ a beat as she scans through the pages ] Why aren’t you telling him, though?

Isadora: I don’t really know how I feel about it yet.

Riley guides Isadora to her bed, where they both sit. She collects her thoughts.

Riley: Did you know anything about your dad before now?

Isadora: No. I asked about him a few times, like ages ago, but Valerie always claimed she didn’t know who he was. I can’t tell if she was lying or not; I don’t even know when she wrote this.

Riley: It seems like she didn’t really think about it until he wrote to her. And it definitely seems like he wants to be part of your life. [ a beat ] Do you want him in your life?

Isadora: I don’t know. I don’t even know what that would look like. My gut is screaming at me that it’ll end in disaster, like it always did with my mom, but at the same time… like, I’ve gotten by fine without a dad until now, but it does feel there’s a part of me missing. What if it’s him?

It’s clear that she’s been thinking it over a lot. Riley admits that she isn’t sure what she could say to help considering her complete lack of experience in this department, but suggests again that she should talk to Eric.

Isadora: I’m scared to.

Riley: What? Why?

Isadora: I don’t want him to think that he’s not enough for me. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t want to ruin it.

Riley places a hand on Isadora’s shoulder and offers a sympathetic smile. Isadora responds by resting her head on Riley’s shoulder, so Riley moves her arm to wrap around her.

Riley: You know how much Eric cares for you. There’s nothing you could do to ruin it. You’re part of the Matthews family forever now, no matter who your father is and whether you meet him or not.

Isadora: You’re my favorite cousin.

Riley: I won’t tell Auggie you said that. And you’re my favorite cousin, too.

Riley plants a kiss on Isadora’s cheek with a ‘muah.’ Isadora pulls a face of disgust and escapes from her grasp as Riley giggles.

Isadora: Minus five cousin points. Auggie’s in the lead now.

Riley: Nooo!

She chases after Isadora, trying to engulf her in a hug as both girls laugh.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Charlie is back from a late rehearsal for showdown, changing out of his Haverford uniform. He strips off his shirt and places it in the laundry hamper, checking how his clothes from the car wash are faring.

Still damp. At this rate, it feels like they’re never going to go back to normal.

Suddenly, the house below him erupts with sound, voices being raised in the kitchen downstairs. It goes without saying, but raised voices are almost non-existent in the Gardner household. Charlie freezes, listening intently until he recognizes exactly what he’s dreading -- a higher-pitched, defensive voice. Rosie’s voice.

He drops the wet clothes and reaches for the first top he can find -- which just happens to be an AAA sweatshirt -- and yanks it on as he rushes into the hall.

INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT

This time, there’s no question as to whether there is a fight. Rosie and ELEANOR GARDNER are more heated than we’ve ever seen either of them onscreen, yelling at one another and cheeks flushed. Rosie is particularly loud, in near hysterics since she’s young, emotional, and also on defense; Eleanor maintains a cool, superior tone even as she raises her volume.

Charlie slides into the room right in the thick of it, jumping in the middle without hesitation and questioning what the heck is going on. When he can get them to acknowledge him, Eleanor actually seems pleased by his presence, openly welcoming him into the argument.

Eleanor: Oh, perfect, just what we needed. A second opinion. Rosamund, why don’t you tell your brother why you’re in trouble? Go on.

Rosie, on the other hand, is not receptive to Charlie joining the conversation. She loses a lot of her fire, shrinking back and face flushing in embarrassment. Eleanor scoffs, though it seems like this is exactly how she expected her to react.

Eleanor: What’s the matter? Are you suddenly shy? You sure were loud enough arguing back to me about it, and now you won’t tell Charlie?

Charlie: Can someone just tell me what’s going on?!

Eleanor: Gladly!

Eleanor pointedly places Rosie’s phone on the countertop, which she’s been holding the whole time. It’s open to an Instagram photo on an unfamiliar page, one of Rosie’s new friends at her gifted high school. It’s a series of photos from some hangout the freshmen were having, but the photo in question surprisingly features another familiar player -- a bunch of the freshmen are sitting around and laughing, and Rosie is grinning while sitting on the lap of URI MINKUS.

It’s pretty innocent, but the implications are enough. Eleanor relays the whole tale, how one of Rosie’s friends from Catholic school told their mom about the photo in her tagged images and the mother was kind enough to inform Eleanor about it. This is already after a discussion she had with Rosie over this boy when she saw them interacting in a less-than-acceptable manner after school when she picked her up. She thought they had cleared it all up, but apparently not, between this photo and the fact that the text messages between her and this Jewish boy are nothing if not flirtatious.

Rosie: You shouldn’t have even been going through my texts anyway!

Eleanor: Oh, shouldn’t I? I didn’t realize you were the authority now! Privacy is a privilege, Rosamund, and you’re continuing to prove that you haven’t earned it!

They continue to escalate again, Charlie bewildered as he slides the phone towards him to get a better look. The photo really is so… nothing, and the whole argument feels so blown out of proportion. But Charlie knows the patterns, he knows what Bridgette warned him about, and all of the shouting and conflict is making him lightheaded.

Charlie, weary: Stop arguing.

Eleanor: I knew we shouldn’t have let you go to the gifted school. I knew you’d be better off staying in the Catholic system.

Rosie: Then why did you let me go?!

Eleanor: Maybe I shouldn’t have! Maybe that’s the thing I shouldn’t have done! In fact, maybe I’ll have to put a call into the deans and see if they can’t transfer you back --

Rosie, mortified: Mom, no!

Charlie: Stop…

The room is starting to spin a little bit. Charlie braces himself against the countertop, screwing his eyes shut and trying to block out the yelling. But he can’t run from it. He can’t hide.

Rosie: Charlie got to go to a different school! He got to go somewhere new without you breathing down his neck!

Eleanor: Because Charlie is responsible enough to handle it! You don’t see him posting suggestive content, flirting shamelessly, making questionable decisions. I don’t need to monitor your brother because he doesn’t give me any reason to be concerned!

Oh, Eleanor, if only you knew… it’s being invoked and talked about in such a discordant way that acts as the final straw. Charlie tries to catch his breath, but it’s not coming back, and it’s like the whole world is slipping away from him…

If anything will stop an argument, passing out probably does the trick. Charlie stumbles and then collapses onto the tile floor, shocking both Eleanor and Rosie out of their anger. Rosie shrieks and rushes to his side.

Eleanor: Charlie?! Ambrose! [ rushing to the entryway ] Ambrose, Charlie’s -- come quickly! Hurry!

Charlie’s down, all right. Rosie rolls him onto his back, checking for obvious injury -- lucky he didn’t crack his head open or something -- and trying to rouse him. But he’s out like a light… all of the tension slowly fading away…

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Meanwhile, Brandon is staying late at Haverford once again, only this time he’s not alone. He’s meeting with a mysterious figure, a HIPSTER 20-something man who is probably into photography or a wannabe filmmaker. But he’s clearly there on business, Brandon and the man speaking in hushed tones as they converse even though they’re the only ones around.

Brandon: And you’re sure you’ve got the whole thing? I’m not paying for poor quality or fractions.

Hipster: I’ve been doing this for six years. Think I know what I’m doing at this point. But yes, it’s all there. Professional quality. You’ll be able to see whatever you need to see.

Brandon deems this response satisfactory enough, nodding. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wad of cash, trading it off with whatever object the hipster is offering. When they retract their hands, Brandon comes away with the secret item -- a flash drive.

He scrutinizes it idly while the hipster quickly counts the bills, then they exchange a nod, Brandon thanking him for his service. The hipster makes his exit, Brandon pacing for a bit on the stage and turning over the flash drive in his fingers. Whatever it is, he seems pretty satisfied to have it in his grasp.

He loses some of his easygoing confidence when he hears the auditorium doors open. He slips the flash drive into his blazer pocket and straightens up, narrowing his eyes to assess his new company. When he recognizes who it is, though, an intrigued smirk blooms across his face.

Brandon: Well, well, well. I have to say, this is an unexpected surprise.

Maya Hart. Dressed in one of her sharpest ensembles, Valerie’s fur coat giving her that extra oomph, matching Brandon’s cool sophistication effortlessly. She leisurely saunters her way down the aisle towards the stage, taking her sweet time.

Maya: So this is the fabled Haverford Prep. [ pursing her lips ] I have to say, I was anticipating greater grandeur.

Brandon: It’s hard when the indigent experience excellence for the first time. Never quite meets the expectations of their hapless daydreams… [ off her sneer ] Is there something I can do for you, Hart? Let alone at this late hour?

Maya: Don’t flatter yourself. It’s 8PM.

She’s made her way to the stage now, coming to stand opposite Brandon front and center. There’s a healthy distance between them, keeping them staunchly on opposing sides, but they regard each other with respect. Maya claims she just wanted to come have a little chat, clan leader to clan leader.

Brandon: That so? I thought Friar was your figurehead.

Maya: We both have our respective areas of expertise. I like to think of myself as the Cheney to his Bush. Conservative politics notwithstanding.

Brandon: Was going to say. I don’t see Cheney being much of a swinger for socialist handouts like you all are gunning for. [ sizing her up ] But I’ll admit, I pegged you for a captain rather than a lackey. You sure took front and center at the car wash.

Maya: Ah, yes… the function you so ceremoniously soiled.

Brandon: Hope you’ll forgive the incursion. It’s only business. A little competitive spirit is all.

Maya: Oh, no arguments from me. I’m more incensed I didn’t see it coming. Wish I had thought of it myself.

Brandon chuckles, perhaps a bit won over by her… unique Maya charms. He claims he got the sense they were more alike than different… in fact, if circumstances were different, and they weren’t sworn rivals… Maya catches onto his drift right quick, mirroring his smug charisma as she feigns sympathy.

Maya: So you like what you see. Don’t despair, you’re far from the only one. But I’m afraid that’s a forgone impossibility.

Brandon: [ processing what might be a rejection ] Ah. I see. [ like they’re confidants ] You play for the other team?

Well. That’s a pretty bold assumption to jump to just because she doesn’t want to get with you, Brandon. But Maya maintains her coolness, unperturbed by such arrogant conclusions. She makes a face, as if she’s contemplating.

Maya: … no team. Let’s put it that way.

Brandon: And what’s that supposed to mean exactly?

Maya: The only team I play for is Triple A. And that’s what I’m here for.

Brandon backs off his advances and allows her the floor, back to all business. She tactfully begins to discuss negotiations around senior showdown, dancing around the details of everything going wrong inside the ranks of the A class but letting just enough of her cards show to indicate that she’s only here due to dire circumstances. Then she subtly tries to charm her way to an ideal outcome, brokering a deal where maybe, just perhaps, Haverford might find themselves on the losing side of the showdown confrontation.

You know she’s desperate if Maya is trying to arrange a thrown victory. And Brandon can sense that too, even as aloof as she’s acting, which just makes the whole situation more amusing to him. Though he feigned listening to her pitch, he is all too eager to shoot it down. Why would Haverford want to throw the competition, he muses, when their winning streak is so hot and their competition is apparently so weak?

Brandon: I knew you all were hardly a threat, but this is even more pathetic than I thought. I mean, you and Friar coming to me trying to cut a deal for an easy victory -- what a leadership duo. You all must be in harsher condition than I imagined.

Maya: Wait, what?

Brandon: … you didn’t know? That your president already paid me a little visit earlier in the semester?

Maya doesn’t respond, but the way she’s lost her easy confidence as she stares at him answers for her. Brandon laughs, shaking his head.

Brandon: What presidential teamwork. Clearly, the future of Adams is in outstanding hands. But with such low confidence, and even lower moves you’ll stoop to… no, I believe Haverford is just fine where we are now. We’ll beat you handily, as we have for the last six years, and rest assured Hart, it’ll be with immense pleasure. [ a beat ] You should probably be going, then. The security doesn’t take kindly to riff-raff hanging around our hallowed halls.

He swivels and swaggers offstage, leaving Maya alone and humiliated in enemy territory. She’s fuming, gritting her teeth and fists clenched at her sides.

INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT

Riley is seated at the counter with her laptop, keeping Lucas company while he works the late shift. She’s running through analytics of the RSVPs they’ve already gotten for the dance fundraiser, which she claims is looking pretty good.

Lucas isn’t in a very optimistic mood, commenting that even if they get half of Manhattan to show up, it probably won’t be enough to cover all their expenses including the scholarships. With their chances at showdown dwindling by the minute… who knows. Maybe he’s not doing absolutely everything he can to make it happen…

Riley closes her laptop, giving him her undivided attention.

Riley: Don’t count Triple A out of showdown just yet, please and thank you. But I think I know what this is really about.

Lucas hesitates, freezing up.

Lucas: You do?

Riley: Yeah. You act like you’re so hard to read, like I don’t know you well enough to figure out when you’re not telling me something.

How could she know… did Zay tell her about seeing Missy in the booth? He swallows. She reaches across the counter and takes his hands, giving him a sympathetic look.

Riley: You’re freaking out over the college essays.

Lucas: Oh. [ a beat ] Yeah, well, I guess I am.

Riley reminds him that he doesn’t have to keep that kind of stuff from her and act like he’s unshakeable all the time. And honestly, she gets why he’s nervous about them. It sucks writing about yourself no matter what -- unless you’re Maya -- but it’ll be even harder for him given the things he’s been through. He hasn’t exactly been encouraged to view himself favorably, at least not until recently. Old habits are hard to break.

Riley: But that’s not necessarily what they’re looking for anyway. You don’t need to prove to them that you’re the most perfect shining candidate to ever apply, you just need to give them a really good story. Make them invested, get them to care about you. Show them a bit of your individuality, your personality -- which you are not short of in either department. And I know for a fact you can draw people in…

She is, after all, a prime example. Lucas still seems doubtful, but her perspective does help. And her belief in him continues to astound him, forged in steel even when everything else feels so unpredictable. Riley leans forward to give him a soft kiss, which lingers between them.

It’s impressive, too, how being with her grounds him. How their closeness doesn’t feel like an intrusion… and somehow, feeling cornered by other forces or put on edge just makes him want to be with her more. Lucas initiates another kiss, forgetting everything else for a moment, taking shelter in that inexplicable safety with her. Riley has no complaints, leaning deeper into it and tightening her touch on his hand.

Then the front door bangs open, the bell jangling ominously. Both of them jump and pull apart. Maya marches into the diner, indignant and blue eyes burning.

Maya: What the hell, Friar?

Lucas: What’s the matter with you now?

Riley: Is everything okay?

Maya: When were you going to tell me you shook down Brandon?

Riley: [ whipping to look at him ] What?

Lucas clams up, straightening upright and taking on a defensive stance. But the sheepish expression on his face gives him away. Busted.

Maya: You know, I think that kind of mercenary maneuver is exactly the sort of decision your VP should know about. Were you just never going to let me in on it?

Riley: Why the hell did you do that?

Maya: I don’t care about that. Friar’s a shady bastard, we all knew his methods were going to be far from clean. Who gives a shit. I’m pissed he decided not to keep me in the loop! Do you have any idea how humiliating it was for me to roll up there only for Brandon Rivas to hand my ass to me on a silver platter? Cocky prick, like he knows absolutely everything --

Riley: Wait, wait. [ eyeing her ] Why were you confronting Brandon?

Oh. Well. Cough. Maya flips her hair off her shoulder, but she can’t give a good excuse that doesn’t make her just as culpable as Lucas. He raises his eyebrows at her, emphasizing that if he’s going down she’s going with him. Riley closes her eyes, trying to catch up to this turn of events.

Riley: Let me get this straight. Both of you went to our competition, at separate times, to try and threaten them into… what? Giving up? Throwing the showdown?

Lucas: I just thought that --

Maya: Our prospects are in shambles even without the money. I was just --

Lucas: And I didn’t want you to be disappointed --

Maya: Everyone is counting on me, we’ve all got a lot riding on --

Riley: Okay, okay, stop. Enough!

Riley holds her hands up, getting them both to shut up. She takes a moment to compose herself, taking a deep breath, then she jumps into fixer mode.

Riley: This must be the week for damage control, because now you’ve really done it. You realize now we’re going to have to bring it even harder, since you’ve made it perfectly clear to Brandon and the Havies that we’re spooked. You wouldn’t go and grovel for mercy if we weren’t.

Lucas: That wasn’t --

Maya, scoffing: I do not grovel --

Riley: I cannot believe you would do something so stupid. [ to Lucas ] And that you would do something like this and not tell me…

Oof… hit him where it hurts, Riles. Lucas lowers his head, avoiding her eyes. Case in point, it doesn’t make anybody look very good. And now, Riley proclaims, she has to fix it once again.

Riley: We’re going to have to brainstorm fast for showdown and make sure everything is in pristine shape, which we already know is a shot in the dark. Call Yindra, tell her to come by our place in twenty. I’ll see if we can get Jeff and Isadora too.

Riley puts her belongings back in her bag and hops off the stool, Maya already heading out. Riley goes to follow her, but she pauses in the doorway and glances back over her shoulder at Lucas. She shakes her head, obviously disappointed.

Riley: I can’t believe you.

She leaves it there, pushing through the doors without another word. Lucas looks after her, ashamed, then curses to himself and lightly hits the counter with his palm.

Break 2.

EXT. DANCE LOT - DREAM SEQUENCE - NIGHT

Charlie is sprawled on the asphalt, just like when he collapsed, the city uncharacteristically quiet around him. When he comes around he jolts upright, spooked at being outside and on his own. He looks around in confusion, no clue where he is or how he got there. He slowly gets to his feet, recognizing the dance lot as a place he’s been before, but unsure where exactly it is or where to go next.

Only one clue exists to help guide him. Music.

It’s quiet, muffled, but he can hear it. A thumping bass, hypnotic beat… he spins until he zeroes in on the source. A heavy metal door installed into the wall opposite him, propped open just slightly, with a neon sign above indicating it’s likely some kind of club. Colorful light leaks out from the crack, mesmerizing and more than intriguing.

But it’s really the music that wins him over. He’s a dancer, and he cannot resist a compelling groove. He cautiously approaches the door, pulling it open and then stepping inside… as the faraway rhythms slowly become a familiar tune...

INT. DANCE CLUB - DREAM SEQUENCE - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Voulez-Vous” as performed by Mamma Mia! Original Movie Cast || Performed by AAA Seniors & Haverford Seniors

The rambunctious ABBA classic kicks off with a bang, music loud and boldly setting the scene. The lighting is mysterious, electric, the fully romanticized version of what a sultry, exciting disco scene might be like. Charlie is no longer dressed in his everyday clothes but is suddenly styled to match the vibes, sporting a sleek disco suit with Riley’s aforementioned blue dress shirt completing the look.

And as he ventures deeper into the club, he discovers he’s not alone. The place is packed with his classmates both current and former, Haverford populating one side and Adams the other, but all dressed in similar, near identical, disco suits. All eyes lock on him the moment he’s within view, judging him, waiting for him to make a move -- or pick a side.

The vocals start, and Charlie does neither, jumping down from the steps and sliding into the center of the glowing dance floor -- right down the middle of party lines. He starts the number dancing alone, challenging the established status quo in the club, tension mounting around his transgression of crossing lines…

Until Zay pushes through the crowd on the A class side. On both feet, looking fly as ever, no injury in sight and nothing holding him back from showing his stuff.

And here we go again, we know the start, we know the end Masters of the scene

Charlie pauses, locking eyes with Zay. For a moment, finishing up the pre-chorus, they just hold eye contact… letting that tension bubble over…

Then Zay jumps into the center of the floor with him, joining in the dance.

Voulez-vous!

For the first chorus it’s just Zay and Charlie, dancing sometimes together and sometimes in contrast, epitomizing the back-and-forth pull between them. But it’s them, so the dancing is remarkably good, and especially satisfying considering how long it’s been since we saw them share a routine. Their timing and chemistry is just as sharp as ever, and it’s also a relief just to see Zay be able to move again.

Throughout the second verse, they weave back into their respective schools, Charlie’s peers still eyeing each other suspiciously and reluctant to break rank. But Zay manages to get Riley out on the dance floor (with Lucas in tow), and then Charlie nudges Evan. Bit by bit the classes mix and mingle, caught somewhere between dancing in tandem and facing off like foes. This becomes especially pronounced during the bridge about 3 and half minutes in, when the chorus becomes stripped and just relies on “ahas,” Charlie leading the Haverford delegation and Zay fronting the A class as they mirror movements and poses.

Then they officially bleed together, classmates crossing into opposite territory for the final chorus. For those who don’t already have a pair in their respective class (unlike say, Dylan and Asher), they pair with someone from the opposite school, like Brandon and Maya.

And, naturally, Zay and Charlie. They’re back together at the center of it all, intensity rising with the music, choreography much more intertwined this time and very close together. If not breaking charged eye contact were an Olympic sport, they would win gold easily.

The flash. The glamor. The drama. ABBA would be proud! When they round out the final seconds and strike their final pose, Zay and Charlie’s faces are so close, all it would take is a centimeter in either direction…

Zay: Charlie...

Charlie’s eyes flit down to his lips, as if he’s contemplating that very thing…

Rosie, faraway: Charlie!

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Alas, not meant to be -- even in dream sequence. Charlie rouses awake when he’s shaken by Rosie, sitting on the bed next to him.

Oh, well. Wouldn’t be the same as doing it for real anyway.

Charlie blinks to adjust back to reality, Rosie releasing a momentous sigh when she sees he’s conscious again. She snaps at him for scaring her, informing him that his fainting spell totally freaked her and Eleanor out. Ambrose is on the phone with their doctor friend right now. He manages to sit up and apologizes for worrying them. It’s probably just… stress.

Rosie: Either way, bad party trick. Mom was so bugged out. You shouldn’t tell her you think it’s stress, or else she’ll probably yank you out of school too and back into Catholic prep.

Charlie: Yeah, speaking of… you really think she’s going to do that to you?

Rosie: … after you passed out, the conversation was basically dropped. If I keep quiet and don’t do anything else to incriminate myself, I think she’ll let it go. [ embittered ] Though sucks that I can’t even text who I want without her knowing every message I send. I doubt she’ll even let me speak to Uri now.

Charlie: Pro-tip? Change his contact name. Mom only goes looking for what she thinks is a problem. If you give him something inconspicuous, she’s never going to know otherwise.

Rosie stares at him, shocked her saltine brother would even think of something like that. I mean, he might be an alcoholic, but still… but it’s good advice all the same. Charlie goes on to explain that he was worried about her, too, and he doesn’t want her to feel like she’s trapped or she has to lash out. You can negotiate with Eleanor, you just have to be clever about it. He doesn’t want her to make the same mistakes that Bridgette did.

Rosie: Yeah, I know… thanks for looking out for me.

Charlie: So… Uri Minkus, huh?

Rosie: Ugh.

Charlie: He’s really that worth sneaking around to text?

Rosie: … I guess you could say… perhaps… maybe… that I have like, the tiniest crush on him. Just a little bit.

Charlie can’t help his smile. He jokes that she should be careful, not because of Eleanor’s concerns, but because if they get married then Farkle is going to become their in-law, and she has no idea what she’s in for if that happens. She groans and nudges Charlie, telling him to shut up, but it’s clear she’s already in better spirits than most of this week. She asks if he’s okay given that all his “stress” is literally making him pass out. Is everything okay with Adams? Charlie admits that he wishes things were easier to navigate than they are.

Charlie: Honestly, I think I’m just naturally gifted at making everything worse. [ with a weak laugh ] Probably should’ve listened to dad when he asked if transferring during senior year was a good idea.

Rosie points out that maybe some of that stress weighing on him is just stuff he creates in his own head. Not to demean it or anything, but like… does everything have to be an anxiety-inducing dilemma? If he wants to go hang out with his friends, from either school, then he should just go do that. He’s allowed to enjoy himself every once and a while and take a break from being the perfect saltine protective older brother. You know, have fun.

Rosie: [ holding up a finger ] Sober fun.

Charlie’s turn to laugh and nudge her. But maybe she has a point. And there might be just the perfect upcoming event where he can relax and have some fun…

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

We join Eric and Isadora in the midst of their conversation. Eric reads Valerie’s letter while Isadora watches with her lips pressed together. Once he finishes the letter, he takes a moment to process it.

Eric: Wow. That’s… a lot.

Isadora: What do you think?

Eric: I think that what I think isn’t important at all right now. What do you think? Do you want to get in contact with him?

Isadora thinks about it as she wrings her hands.

Isadora: I’m not sure. But… you aren’t upset?

Eric: Why would I be upset?

Isadora: If I do want to meet him, I’m worried you’ll think that you’re not enough for me or something. I don’t want to hurt you.

Eric: Isadora, that could never happen. I’m not hurt at all, I just want what’s best for you, and a relationship with your father could be something really good.

Isadora: What if it isn’t, though? I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment. Again.

Eric: That’s understandable. You don’t have to make a decision now, though. You have all the time you want to think it over. [ a beat ] If you want, you could write a letter to him yourself. You don’t have to send it, but it can be cathartic to write out everything you’re thinking and feeling about the situation.

Unsure, Isadora pulls a face. Eric reminds her again to just think about it -- no major decisions necessary right now.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Lucas is meeting with Jack one last time before the dance fundraiser to grab another cash box and go over any last minute details. Jack questions if he’s going to be dressing for the occasion, to which Lucas rolls his eyes but begrudgingly admits that he thinks Riley would be even more upset with him if he didn’t. Though he doesn’t have all the details, Jack assures Lucas that he’s sure Riley isn’t going to be angry for long.

One can only hope. Jack wishes Lucas luck and then he heads out, leaving him to his work. He settles back into it until he lifts his gaze and catches Yancy heading out of the building, checking out for the weekend.

All of Jack’s frustration from his conversation with Evelyn bubbles back up again. He pushes out of his chair, jogging out of his office.

EXT. AAA - DAY

Jack catches Yancy on his way down the steps, telling him that they need to talk. Yancy claims whatever it is can surely wait until Monday, but Jack isn’t having it.

Jack: No, I don’t think your active sabotage of my school can wait another damn second.

Yancy is stunned by his coarse language, effectively halting him long enough to have the confrontation. Well, what then? Jack questions when exactly he planned to let him know about his ongoing anti-campaign against the student government’s scholarship endeavors, or what would drive him and Graham to work to pit the board against them. He knows that they aren’t fond of him, especially after his stunt at the trial, but taking it out on the students? Who does that benefit? What do they gain from that?

Yancy, sharply: Actually, Jackson, you’ve hit the nail on the head. After your little unprofessional display, why wouldn’t we be invested in halting any other schemes you deem a good idea? Particularly when your chosen favorite himself just miraculously managed to become student body president in a school that hates his very existence?

Jack: You have no idea what you’re talking about, and Lucas won that election on his own merit. It had nothing to do with me.

Yancy: It has everything to do with you! Everything does! So long as you are at the helm of this ship, making all the calls, everything ties back to you. And we used to trust you with that power. But all this behavior as of late -- declining lucrative offers, favoring delinquents --

Jack: He is not a delinquent!

Yancy: Or how about cavorting with a fellow employee? [ off his shocked expression ] Oh, come on, Jackson, I’m not naive. Did you and Eric really believe you could flaunt your little flirtation right in front my face and I wouldn’t notice a thing? As if my whole purpose at that school isn’t to keep it from collapsing under your unprofessional whimsy and desires!

This whole time, he’s been observing, watching the operation of AAA from the inside out, trying to determine if Jack remains fit to head the institution. Yancy admits, when Graham first put him up for the job, he was skeptical -- he’d always had great belief in Jack as an educator. He was doubtful that he had really slipped so far… but now he’s seen for himself. There is a certain way things are done, and it seems Jack has forgotten all of his proper perspective in service to that law and order.

Yancy: When I finish my report to the board at the end of the semester, they’ll be the judge of whether or not you deserve to stay where you are. But believe me, if I had it my way, you’d be out of that position and filing for unemployment faster than lightning.

Jack: You can’t do this. You can’t eject me from the role simply because your perspective is too old-fashioned to be flexible. Or empathetic. And unwilling to examine context --

Yancy: Well, we’ll just let the board decide that, won’t we.

Guess we will. Yancy fussily buttons his coat.

Yancy: I would watch yourself if I were you, Jackson. In my opinion, it’s far too late, but we both know how easy it is to tip the scales slightly in your favor. Maybe you’ll salvage this yet. Otherwise, I’d start contemplating alternative paths. Have a good evening.

Yancy stomps down the steps, not waiting for a goodbye. Jack swallows his panic, trying to remain resolute in the face of so much pressure. Scrambling to figure out what to do next...

A groovy disco track bleeds into the soundscape, totally dissonant to Jack’s dread --

INT. DANCE VENUE - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Streetdance” as performed by Disco Street Machine || Instrumental

The ‘70s dance fundraiser is in full swing, and it seems to be doing well! The venue is packed not just with Adams students but other community members, promising at least some greater revenue from the whole ordeal. The scene is set with funky lighting and a dance floor, along with some flower-power type decorations and a fun mirrorball hanging above it all.

It’s mainly cool to see everyone leaning into the theme and dressed in their best approximations of ‘70s garb. We’ve got funky vests, blazers for days, chunky platform boots, a few bohemian chic vibes, you name it. A few establishing shots show us all these looks and more while the assembled crowd grooves to the disco track. Yogi is wandering with his camera, capturing footage for posterity and social media.

Lucas is manning the check-in table, this time keeping control over the money in his own hands. He maintains a cordial enough demeanor as he interacts with potential patrons, and he is giving some semblance of ‘70s as promised in his collared-shirt-under-sweater look. He’s serving like… gothic Fred Jones, which is about as much as you’re gonna get from him.

Asher and Dylan, on the other hand, are representing much better. Asher is repping the funky vest and puffy sleeve shirt vibe, matched well with some maroon bell-bottoms and swooped back hair, while Dylan is truly going disco with a silky vibrant shirt tucked into silver pants, a huge, chunky pair of Elton John tinted glasses the cherry on top of the ensemble. They ask how cash flow is going, and Lucas claims fine, but they’re not out of the woods by a long shot.

Lucas: If things don’t pick up, I’m going to start pickpocketing.

Asher: Yes, that’s exactly what we need. A literal crook for president.

Dylan: Isn’t that like every president?

Anyway, Lucas needs to chill. Or as Dylan puts it, surrender to the boogie. Which is what he and Asher are going to go do right now -- the dance floor beckons them. Asher leads the way, Dylan walking backwards so he can maintain eye contact with Lucas and literally disco groove away from him as encouragement to give in to the funk. Lucas just shakes his head, unimpressed.

When Lucas gets back to work, who should be waiting to purchase a ticket in but Charlie Gardner. He’s dressed for the occasion too, dressed in dark pants and a white blazer… with Riley’s chosen blue shirt underneath. It seems he followed her guidance and went for it after all. Lucas greets him and commends him for turning out, considering all the bad blood between Haverford and AAA right now. Brave of him to show up.

Doesn’t he know it… but he wants to be here. Lucas takes his money and nods for him to go on in, sending him into the fray.

Meanwhile, Zay is parked at one of the tables, not in the best mood considering he’s surrounded by the boogie and can’t participate. Nigel is doing his best to cheer him up, but it’s sort of a fruitless effort. When Zay catches him eyeing Jade, who the techies managed to extract from the loft to at least enjoy the dance, he sighs and tells him to go have fun. He doesn’t have to waste away with him. Nigel argues against that take, but Zay nods him onward, insisting.

So Nigel bounces to his feet, thanking Zay before cutting through the crowd in the direction of Jade. Zay watches him go, bittersweet at being left alone again.

Charlie skirts the edges for a bit before finding companionship in Farkle, who greets him plainly. He’s dressed like Eric Forman, wearing a simple button down and bellbottoms combo with a loose brown corduroy jacket. He and Charlie briefly catch up, commenting on how the turn out is and how great the aesthetic is. But Farkle is still a bit lost in his own head, and Charlie notices. He elbows him lightly.

Charlie: You okay?

Farkle: [ with some of his usual humor ] Chuck, that’s like asking the sky if it’s red. I think you already know the answer.

But he’ll live. Once he figures some things out… it’ll be fine. It has to be. Vagueness aside, Charlie can tell there’s more to it, but he opts to focus on distraction rather than problem-solving. He’s had enough problem-solving for a lifetime this week. He invites Farkle to go dance instead, playfully challenging him to show what disco moves he’s got up his sleeve.

Farkle: Oh, you’re going to regret this -- and not because I’m good.

Charlie laughs, gesturing for him to lead the way onto the dance floor.

Maya jumps up onto the small stage set up with the DJ booth, taking the microphone and briefly thanking everyone for coming out. No applause necessary for putting it together, really… and she waits until the audience feels compelled to applaud. Then she waves them off “humbly” before reminding them of all the ways they can support the Adams senior class while at this benefit -- mainly financially! And by getting down and boogie-oogie-oogying. Peace!

Lucas shakes his head at Maya’s speech, lightly amused, but all of his calm is wiped away when Missy walks through the door. She’s dressed in simple ‘70s, a gorgeous and slightly revealing silk disco mini dress and with her hair blown out like Farah Fawcett. She cheekily compliments him on his get up.

Missy, sarcastic: An ensemble that elaborate must’ve taken ages to throw together. I see you really put an effort in.

Lucas: Maybe. And what’s your excuse?

Missy: Not everything needs to be silly and over the top. In fact, I think the richest things in life are those that go understated. Left unsaid… makes everything a bit more exciting, anticipating whatever more there might be to explore. [ a beat ] Same goes for fashion.

Lucas: … so are you paying, or what?

Missy: As I understand it, Adams seniors get in free. But since I can afford it…

She reaches into her small satin purse, pulling out a wad of cash. She siphons off about half of it -- way more than a ticket would cost -- and drops it into the cash box for him. He eyes it suspiciously, then flits his glare towards her.

Missy: I thought about our little chat. And you’re right, maybe there needs to be something in it for me -- which in this case is a victory at showdown. We’re embarrassing enough right now as it is. At least with the funding, we’ll look good when we crash and burn. And as for the rest…

She folds up the remaining bills in her hand and holds them out for him, gesture subtle but unmistakable. Lucas stares at the money, then glances around them nervously to make sure no one else is looking.

Lucas: What the hell are you doing?

Missy: Come on, Lucas. Don’t be noble. We know how things are between us. I’m just trying to help. And it stays discreet. Think of it as… a bonus, for all the hard work you’re doing for the A class. [ quieter ] I heard you in the booth. You don’t ask for help. Well, sometimes, you don’t have to beg. You can just take… whatever you want.

She raises her eyebrows, subtly challenging him to take it. Lucas hesitates, holding his breath… it feels like a test, he knows it is… but he’s already taken plenty from her without asking. What’s a little more…

Missy: Davis isn’t going to pay for itself, is it?

No. No it isn’t. She’s right, and he knows his chances of reeling a scholarship are slim to none. Does he really want all of this stress for applications to be for nothing?

Reluctantly, Lucas takes the money from her and slips it into his back pocket. Missy smiles, genuinely pleased, though why it’s hard to say. But it’s clear, now more than ever, that whatever little arrangement they’ve got going on here is a pattern now. It’s not just going to flutter away on its own, and the consequences that might come of it remain a mystery.

Missy: Groovy. Enjoy the dance, Lucas.

Lucas doesn’t respond, using the cash box as an excuse not to look at her. But based on flipping through the amount of money she handed over for the fundraiser, they’re way closer to their goal than before. And that has to make it all worth it, right?

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “September” as performed by Earth, Wind, & Fire || Instrumental

One of the best songs of the decade comes on next, earning an enthusiastic cheer from the crowd. Riley weaves her way through the throng and rushes up to the entrance to find Lucas, Nate in tow. She’s dressed in a shimmery lavender-mauve jumpsuit, a complimentary hair scarf tying together the groovy look. She pushes Nate in front of her.

Riley: Nate here is taking over table duty.

Nate: You know how I love dem bills, my brother.

Riley: So that you can come dance with me.

Lucas cringes, weakly putting up a fight. Oh, no, no, no… but Riley’s already got her hands on him, and her smile is so damn cute, it would be impossible to refuse her. So he lets her drag him out into the crowd.

Once they’re actually on the dance floor, Riley beams at him and pulls him closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Lucas does his best to be a good sport and play along, especially since he’s already in trouble, placing his hands on her hips and casually swaying to the beat.

Lucas: So… does this mean I’m off the hook for the Brandon thing, or…

Riley: Hm… so as long you’re dancing with me and you look so cute in that sweater, I suppose you can be forgiven.

Better than nothing, though Lucas still clearly feels guilty about disappointing her. Just one of many ways he feels like he’s letting her down… but for now she’s happy, so he’ll just focus on touching her waist and how hot she looks in her jumpsuit.

Across the dance floor, Dylan and Asher are in conversation with Jeff and Yindra, Dylan with his arm draped casually around Asher’s shoulders and bouncing to the beat. They’re discussing the everchanging stakes of their showdown routine -- at this point Yindra claims they should just scrap it all and start over, they’ve got equally as bad a shot with the shoddy routine they have now. But Asher claims that would be a disaster, and they should only cross that bridge if they absolutely must.

Dylan spots something that seems to capture his attention, his eyes widening in excitement. He pinches Asher’s ribs and leans closer, Asher tilting his head to listen to his murmur.

Dylan: Shakespeare in Love, straight ahead.

Asher squints through the dancing crowd and finds what he’s talking about -- Nigel and Jade. He’s actually managed to pull her onto the dance floor, engaging in loose and easy grooving together. She’s laughing, waving off how bad a dancer she is, but he holds one of her hands and assures her she’s good.

Totally radical. Asher and Dylan exchange knowing looks, unable to hold back a grin.

Zay is less enthused, mainly because of his current view -- Charlie, dancing with Farkle of all people to one of the greatest songs there is. Not that there’s anything to be concerned about, really, since they’re clearly just goofing around with each other and Farkle is as promised quite an embarrassing disco dancer. But he’s up and moving, free, having fun, making Charlie laugh -- with Charlie looking disgustingly attractive in his expertly chosen shirt -- and it kind of feels like a perfect vignette of what’s locked away from him.

Everything Zay wants, desperately misses, but can’t have.

His brooding is interrupted when Isadora plops down into the chair across from him, giving him a nod in greeting. He asks why she’s not out there grooving on the dance floor, and she sagely says she’s not interested in getting up to boogie so… publicly. She’s amazed Riley got Lucas out there, but that’s only because of her unique Riley charms. It’s torture in her eyes.

Zay: Speak for yourself, but you’re entitled to your whack opinion.

Isadora: I know, I know. This is killing you. And I respect that. Just not for me. [ a beat ] Maybe it’ll give you some peace to know that you being benched is an undeniable tragedy for all of us.

Zay: The considerate part of me says no, but the egotistical side does love it, thank you.

Isadora: You’re welcome. [ with a sigh ] Now there’s talk of changing the routine if we can’t figure out how to fill your vacancy. Not that I don’t think we could pull it off, but it would take all hands on deck and everyone on board, and I don’t see that happening unless there’s no other alternative. Right now, if we could just find someone to fill your spot -- never as strongly, of course --

Zay: Again, my ego thanks you. You’re not going to take the spot?

Isadora: Uh… I mean, I don’t know. A couple of people suggested it, but look, we know I’m no you. I don’t learn as quickly, and I’ve got enough of a track record with performance mishaps on my own. I mean, what if I do it but I completely freeze the moment we have to go out there? My mom’s parting gift to me was giving me the one thing she never had -- stage fright. Doesn’t that seem too risky to throw in there when the stakes are higher than ever?

Zay: Man, I don’t know. I get what you’re saying, but all I know is that I would kill to be able to perform right now. And if you’re debating it at all, then to me, that means you want to -- and if I had the ability to do it, I wouldn’t waste it for a second on what ifs.

Very insightful, Zay. Isadora contemplates this… then she points out to Zay that just because he’s off his feet doesn’t mean he has to fade into oblivion. He’s got to take the time to heal, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be involved in the class or productions. He just has to find new ways to involve himself rather than what he’s used to.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Y.M.C.A.” as performed by Village People || Instrumental

Another classic! In an instant, Riley appears at their table, teeming with enthusiasm and reaching for Zay’s hands. She insists that he get up dance with her -- to which he reminds her that he’s booted -- but she points out that anyone can do the Y.M.C.A. It’s just shouting and arms! So he relents, allowing her to help him to his feet, but his grin betrays his aloof demeanor.

Farkle slides over moments later, telling Isadora that she better get up and join them too. If Zay can do it, she has no excuse. She rolls her eyes, but she really can’t argue with him on that.

So the dance wraps up with a flourish, the full class laughing, sing-shouting and goofing off together to the party favorite that literally anyone can do. Nigel and Riley each support Zay on either side, and he looks about as joyful as he has in weeks. Asher and Dylan prevent Lucas from escaping, keeping him on the dance floor and trapping him in the Y.M.C.A groove too. Charlie dances with Haley and Clarissa, who take turns twirling under his arms.

Yogi and Dave make their way through it all, capturing all the joy of a successful fundraiser on camera so they’ll never forget it.

INT. DANCE VENUE - LATER - NIGHT

The party has wrapped up, only the A class hanging around to clean up. Well, the A class and Charlie, who insisted it was no problem to stay back and assist in tidying. He’s working with Nigel and Yindra at stacking chairs, the latter of which comments playfully that he really is too helpful for his own good.

Yindra: Such a good little Christian, truly. It’s like God injected his compassion mission into your cute white boy veins.

Charlie: Well… not that good, admittedly. [ a beat ] I think if he was going to make his prototype golden child, he would’ve skipped the part where he made me gay.

Oop. Wow, a casual coming out -- and with a little humor, too! Charlie is getting better at this. Yindra raises her eyebrows at him, assessing for a moment whether or not he might be joking… and then she breaks into a wide grin, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Yindra: Oh, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie… I always knew I liked you. And I should’ve known, considering that awful Les Mis kiss still haunts my nightmares.

She asks how long he’s been out, or at least telling people, and Nigel slides in to proudly note that he told him before Yindra. She rolls her eyes. Charlie admits it’s slow-going and hasn’t been easy, especially with the community outside of AAA, but it feels good every time he does it. Hopefully the rest of his world will turn out tolerant too.

Yindra invites him to her church that Sunday for a change of pace. She’s performing a solo in the choir, so it’ll be guaranteed entertaining, and it might be good for him to see an actually accepting church environment for a change.

Nigel: She just wants to force you to see her ‘70s performance before she shares it with the class on Monday. The more people she can force to be her audience, the better.

Yindra: Hey, now, I don’t care for your sass, Chey Chey.

Either way, her church runs later than his, so it shouldn’t conflict. And Nigel will be there too -- she’s bribing him with brunch -- so it’ll be like a fun little outing. Charlie just seems happy to be connecting with his peers again, so he happily agrees.

Nate, pre-lap: 70… 80… 90…

INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT

Lucas, Maya, Riley, Dylan, Asher, Isadora, and Farkle are convened in and around the back corner booth, watching nervously as Nate counts the final income from the dance fundraiser. All of them are holding their breath… Maya is pacing like a wildcat, ready to pounce and tear him to shreds if the number is too low.

Isadora: Jesus, Nate, can’t you count any faster?

Nate: No, I don’t cut corners when it comes to money. Now shut up, or I’ll have to start over.

Farkle, exhausted: Hush, Isa. Don’t make him start over.

Silence settles over them again… and Nate finishes counting the bills from the cashbox. He lifts up a finger to halt them from asking, writing the number down and then pulling up the calculator app on his phone. After combining the total from this with the car wash haul…

Nate: We did it. Crazy sons of bitches, we did it!

They officially made the money to pay for the damages and fund their showdown needs. Victory! All of them cheer, hugging each other and clapping enthusiastically. Riley wraps her arms around Lucas and kisses his cheek, while he’s looking pretty relieved.

Nate: I gotta say though, the numbers seem kind of skewed based on the actual attendance we had. Someone must’ve made a huge donation. [ to Lucas ] Did you notice anyone drop some major cash?

Oh, interesting… Lucas pauses, then breezes past the question. He claims it doesn’t matter who donated what -- they’re in the clear, and now they can focus on what matters. It’s time to kick Haverford’s pretentious privileged ass at showdown.

Hear, hear! The group cheers again, exchanging high-fives and reveling in their hard-earned success.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Isadora arrives home, shedding her jacket and shoes at the door. She’s relaxed, and has a relieved smile on her face. From where he sits on the sofa, Eric looks over to her.

Isadora: We did it! We raised all the money we need.

Eric: Oh, amazing! Well done, I’m so proud of you all.

Isadora sits down next to him and exhales. It’s been a long day.

Isadora: I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I’ve decided to write a letter to Zachary.

Eric: Tha --

Isadora, interrupting: I don’t know whether I’ll send it or not, but I do think it’ll help just to get my thoughts out there.

Eric nods his agreement, and reminds her that he’ll always be there for her. Just as she starts to ask for help on what to include in the correspondence, there’s a knock at the door. Eric goes to answer it, pleasantly surprised to find Jack waiting on the other side. Although he’s happy to see him, Jack seems stressed, so Isadora gets the hint that she should probably give them some space. She wishes Jack a good night and retreats to her room, leaving them alone.

Eric: Did you hear that they made the money to cover the auditorium damages? I’m honestly impressed, but I guess we should never doubt the A class.

Jack: Yeah… yeah, I did. From Lucas. It’s great.

Eric: … okay, what’s going on. You’ve got your thin voice going, how you get when something is wrong.

Jack doesn’t even bother to ask what that means -- Eric knows him well, it’s hardly a surprise at this point. He releases a strained sigh and explains what happened with Yancy, both about him sabotaging the scholarship fund from within the board and then the confrontation they had on the steps. Eric listens raptly, absorbing some of his dread with every word.

Eric: That sick… I always knew there was something off about him. He’s a corporate sellout through and through -- has been since he joined the board. And he has the gall to lecture you… we’ll get him for this, Jack. We just have to strategize --

Jack: No. No, we can’t do anything. Not right now. Not with so many things on the line.

Jack mentions the other piece of Yancy’s threat -- that he might be put on probation for real and potentially let go. Eric scoffs at this, disbelieving. Jack is well-known in the community… no way he’d get ousted. It’s an empty threat.

Eric: What’ll probably happen is that if anything, they put you off contract, and the position would reopen for applicants. So all you’d have to do is apply again, and Evelyn would hand it back to you without question. Yancy is just reaching, he can’t --

Jack: But Evelyn isn’t the only vote that matters, Eric. If they can flip a decision on something like the scholarships… that affects the students… and I don’t think he’s bluffing. I mean, he brought up Lucas, he mentioned… he mentioned you and me…

Eric shrinks a bit at this. It’s uncomfortable that someone is using their relationship as leverage, implying it’s a bad thing, but he’s also nervous about the way Jack is taking it. He knows how much he cares about AAA. He’d do anything to keep it afloat, to do what’s right for the school.

Eric: So… [ with a deep breath ] What do you want to do?

Jack, softly: Right now… I just think we need to… we need to step back. Put things on hold until the dust settles. My examination period should be over soon, and when this is all sorted, then… then maybe we can…

But for now, they can’t. There’s too much at stake… things both of them care about more than themselves. Although Eric is reluctant, he does his best to keep his emotions in check and nods along. He places a hand on Jack’s shoulder, letting it rest there for a moment. Stroking with his thumb, soaking in the touch for all it’s worth. Who knows when he’ll comfortably get to do it again.

Eric: Whatever you need, Jack. I understand. [ with difficulty ] I’m with you.

Jack nods, grateful. More grateful than he’ll ever know. He holds his gaze for a long moment, then leans forward and presses his lips softly to the corner of his mouth. So close, yet so far… Eric closes his eyes, trying his best not to crack.

Jack pulls back, swallowing hard. He clears his throat and nods, back to a fragile shell of professionalism.

Jack: I’ll see you at school.

Eric returns the nod, but he can’t meet his eyes. Jack hesitates for a moment longer, wishing it wasn’t this way, wishing he could stay… then steps back into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

Like he was never there.

INT. YINDRA’S CHURCH - DAY

Charlie and Nigel are in one of the pews amidst the usual congregation of Yindra’s church, waiting for the choir following the service to begin. Charlie seems excited but nervous, liking the high spirits and jovial energy but worried he’s an imposter just like he is everywhere else. He leans over to Nigel.

Charlie: I stick out like a sore thumb, don’t I?

Nigel: Mm, yeah. But it’s okay, [ patting his arm ] you can’t help that you’re skim milk.

Thank you for that, Nigel. Charlie opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, so it’s a relief when Yindra steps down front and center in her church choir robes to address the congregation. She cheerfully greets them and explains that she got to choose the song for this week, which she used to also fulfill the requirement for her art school lesson. Two birds, one stone, am I right?

Either way, she wants to dedicate the heart of this performance to her peers at school and in attendance this afternoon. She knows they’re all going through stuff, and even though it feels like the end of the world right now, it’ll all be water under the bridge one day. All they can do is take it day by day, and by the grace of God, everything will end up the way it’s meant to be.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Bridge Over Troubled Water” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Yindra Amino

If anyone could deliver soulful, impressive vocals to rival and honor Mercedes Jones (for those of us who did watch Glee, unlike the Havies), it would be Yindra Amino. And deliver she does, both in the church and on the atrium steps at AAA where she splits this performance. The rest of her choir backing her up gospel style really does add a certain something something, but the true emphasis of the number is the meaning.

Your time has come to shine All your dreams are on their way See how they shine, oh, if you need a friend I'm sailing right behind

When she makes it to the latter half and the gospel kicks off clapping to the beat, the entire congregation leaps to their feet and eagerly joins in. Charlie and Nigel are right there with them -- as is the A class in the atrium intercut of the performance.

Yindra brings it home with a spectacular vocal run, and you have to wonder if she really could make it out there in L.A. on her vocal chops alone. The church erupts into gleeful applause as she wraps up and takes a bow with the choir, beaming bright.

Charlie mirrors her smile, enthusiastically clapping along. Experiencing for an instant what it’s like to feel comfortable in church -- allowed to just be himself.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Lucas is anxiously sitting opposite Riley in the usual booth, watching as she carefully reads over his personal essays. She’s doing her best to maintain a professional and neutral expression while she goes, but it’s impossible to hold back the slightest smile on her lips as she reaches the conclusion. When she lifts her gaze to meet his, but purposefully builds suspense by not saying anything, he cracks.

Lucas: Well? They’re terrible, aren’t they? You can just say it if they are.

Riley: … [ breaking into a grin ] They’re great, Lucas. Brilliant, honestly. Not that I ever had any doubt you could pull it off.

What a relief. Lucas exhales a sigh, thanking her for taking the time to read them. Then he continues, softly apologizing for not telling her about what happened with Brandon. Even though he had good intentions, he knows it doesn’t matter. And if he wanted so much not for her to know, then obviously it was never a good idea to begin with.

Riley: You know it’s fine for you to mess up. I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me.

Lucas: [ after a beat ] I guess I didn’t… it’s like the stupid personal essays. I know that… I’m not a shining example of a good person. I don’t think that’s exactly a secret.

Riley: I don’t think that.

Lucas: I know. I know you don’t, and I think that’s why I didn’t want you to know. Because it’s like every thing I do that shows you that, the more you realize that I’m… less than ideal, then…

Riley tilts her head, giving him a sympathetic look. Then she gets up and comes to join him on his side of the booth, sliding in next to him and leaning forward a bit so he’ll meet her gaze.

Riley: I told you that I wanted a relationship with you, and I meant it. And that’s all of you -- everything, the good and the bad. Even if you make a mistake, or I get disappointed, it doesn’t change that. We’ll find a way to work it out. I want you.

Her way with words makes everything sound so easy, so simple… and maybe it is. Maybe it can be just as simple as wanting each other, loving each other, and making it work. Lucas absorbs the sentiment, smiling shyly and thanking her again.

Hard part out of the way, Riley asks him how he managed to break his writer’s block and write those killer essays. What was his secret? Lucas hums, thinking about it.

Lucas: It was kind of what you said. You know, changing my perspective. When I was trying to write it from my lens, it was… well, you know. But then I just tried to think… what would Riley say? If someone asked you about me. And when I thought about it like that, I don’t know… suddenly, it was easy.

Riley chews her lip, smile blossoming on her face. She pulls him into a gentle kiss, one that he returns before swiftly stealing another one. She nudges her forehead against his, fondness shining in her eyes as she looks at him.

It’s no mystery how thinking like her made for some unbeatable work.

Billy, pre-lap: I knew it. I knew he wasn’t loyal.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - SENIOR LOUNGE - DAY

Dweezil’s phone is sitting on the tabletop, open to the Adams social media page. Displayed are a handful of photos Yogi took during the ‘70s dance… including one clearly featuring Charlie, dancing with Haley and Clarissa. Although it looks like he’s having a swell time, Billy and Dweezil don’t seem happy for their classmate at all.

Dweezil: He’s never really jumped ship. We know he’s always hanging out with Riley anyway. This is just definitive proof.

Billy: Showdown is in a week. If he’s still this comfortable with his old chums, who knows how much shit he’s telling them.

Dweezil: And what if he finds out about the plan? No way he’s going to let us do it.

Billy: I say we take care of this now. Before it interferes with our performance.

Dweezil: He might blow everything.

Billy: Brandon. You have to have an opinion on this shit.

Opposite them and seated at the table, Brandon is examining the photograph for himself. He’s unperturbed as usual, thoughtful and contemplative. He doesn’t comment until Billy and Dweezil basically demand input from him, at which point he offers a calm smile.

Brandon: It’s nice to see him enjoying himself, isn’t it? I like Charles. He’s a nice kid. [ a beat, then suavely ] And a coward.

Brandon gingerly places Dweezil’s phone back on the desk, reclining back in his chair.

Brandon: I’m not worried about him.

Billy: Man, you’re kidding --

Dweezil: And what if he decides to --

Brandon: Don’t you get it? He’s not going to do anything. If there’s one thing you can count on with Charles, it’s that he’s spineless. He’s not feeding them information, and even if he does take offense to something we do, he isn’t going to do shit. Gardner is soft, and he’s the least of our worries. But in a week it’s not even going to matter. Especially not when we’ve got this.

Brandon retrieves the flash drive from his blazer pocket, placing it on the table between them. Billy and Dweezil eye it with interest -- they all clearly know what it contains.

Brandon: Once we crack into this, it’s over. We’re going to crush Adams like we do every year -- whether Charles helps or not.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Ah, to be back in the warm embrace of the auditorium -- even if it’s still a bit banged up. It’ll take a little while longer to get the auditorium back in tip-top shape, but the A class can at least come home to roost in it again, which is where they gather for the kick off the next week.

All of them give a round of applause to Harley for his assistance in repairing their mistakes, and hope that he enjoyed the performances of the last few days. He assures them he did, though as he understands it, the week isn’t quite over yet. He steps back and allows Jade to take front and center.

She thanks all of them for being patient with her while she finished up her portfolio materials, and at this point she only has one more request. Behind her, Dave and Dylan roll out the racks with her ‘70s portfolio costumes, and she explains that she needs models to pose for the photographs she’s going to include in her application of all her hard work. Now hm… where on Earth is she going to find suitable, available models for free who she just happened to know all the measurements of and would fit perfectly into these custom costumes…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Shake Your Booty” as performed by Forever In Your Mind || Performed by AAA Seniors

Riley beams, claiming she thinks she knows where they could find a few volunteers. The A class launches to their feet, rushing the stage to see what Jade has in store.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

The boys kick off this energetic, bopping closing number, changing into their Jade ‘70s ensembles and grooving in the dressing room. Sliding through the wall --

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

The girls are doing the same, fluffing their hair and doing each other’s make up as they sing into the mirrors. Once they’re all set, Yindra leads the way out into the dressing room hall…

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Where they meet up with the boys, strutting in their fierce, authentically ‘70s looks. They make a mad dash for the auditorium --

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And reclaim their stage, breaking into disco grooves as they toss around solo lines and show off their outfits. Jade stands with Yogi and helps him direct the costume shoot, both of them dressed up as well with Jade sporting the stereotypical but Jade-infused bohemian flower power girl look with a flowy white dress with puffy sleeves and a leather headband laced with wildflowers.

On the bridge, we get a montage of all of the A class posing in their outfits as they dance to get their pictures taken. This highlights not only how much we love this silly crop of seniors, but also how fantastic and individualized Jade’s costumes truly are. Paired with the earnest and jubilant performance, it’s a truly lovable showing.

Then they bring it on home with a disco line dance, all breaking into the same groovy choreography and all in their ‘70s garb. Zay watches from the audience with Lucas and the faculty, for once seemingly not in despair over being benched and still getting a custom outfit of his own. Dylan and Asher are front and center, and they pull Jade into it on the last few lines, so she also gets her boogie in before the day is done.

If one thing is clear, it’s that disco is far from dead, thank you very much! And while the A class has a lot on their plates -- and insurmountable stakes ahead -- it’s hard not to feel hopeful when they’ve got each other.

Whether that’s enough, well, soon we’ll find out.

END OF EPISODE.

#episodes #307 #S3 #WEEEEEEEEEEEE #s3 round 2 lets go girls!

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kyotakumrau · 4 years

Text

2020.09.19 ROCK AND READ 091 - interview with utA - translation PART 1/2

'I'll be damned, what was that?!'

Interview: Yukinobu Hasegawa

Photos: Yosuke Komatsu (ODD JOB LTD.)

Translation: kyotaku You can buy the magazine on amazon, tower records etc ฅ( ̳• ·̫ • ̳ฅ)♡

After Kyo, Takumi and YUCHI from sukekiyo, it’s time for the interview with utA.

He’s experienced white collar work in his hometown Niigata, but couldn’t give up his dream of being in a band, so he moved to Tokyo, his band 9GOATS BLACK OUT attracted attention because of their fantastical music yet then disbanded, but because Kyo had listened to their music utA has started a new episode of his music life.

We ask him about the very start of his interest in music and his life until now.

And then... With many interesting stories like the one about the eerie episode when he came to Tokyo, we can show you utA’s odd music history.

utA / sukekiyo: profile & information

birthday March 26th. joined Kyo’s project sukekiyo as a guitarist in 2013. other members are Kyo (vocal), Takumi (guitar, piano), YUCHI (bass) and Mika (drums). their last release is the video compilation ‘LIQUEFACIO’ with the live footage from their show in Nakano Sunplaza in June 2019.

-- First, I’d like to ask you about the time you got into rock and playing the guitar. Were there any significant bands or guitarists for you when you were young?

utA: I think it was around elementary grade 5 or 6, it was X (-Japan). I was born in Joetsu city in Niigata, there was a CD shop stocked with v-kei and rock stuff there. It was a rural town, but at that time, there was a shop that was selling nothing but rock stuff.

-- It seems to be a quite early to start frequenting CD shops as a elementary school student.

utA: Yeah, I think it was early. I had a friend who was playing the piano, I heard him playing songs like “Silent jealousy” from X, I think that was how I got to know X and their heartrending phrases I love. After that I wanted to hear more from them so I listened to their first indies album “Vanishing Vision”. And then their first major release “BLUE BLOOD”.

-- You weren’t playing the guitar yet when you got to know X as an elementary school student?

utA: It was accidental, but my brother was playing the guitar. I think he liked ZIGGY, JACKSONS’N’JOKER, COLOR, BUCK-TICK etc when I was five. So I have seen my brother playing the guitar at home, but he didn’t influence me at all (laughing). I remember he liked to sing by himself while playing, I have this impression that he was a good singer, but didn’t play the guitar that well (laughing). But we were far apart in age, we weren't that attached, I felt if I just grabbed the guitar I could play. So I borrowed it and fumbled trying to play the songs as I listened to them.

-- But playing the guitar was then just something fun to do?

utA: It was definitely something fun, but I remember entering a music studio around junior high. I briefly started a band with friends. I guess there was no proper shape to it, but I wanted to play some songs, gathered friends and we played “Silent Jealousy”. I played the guitar, I tried really hard with the main phrases and so on. But I really couldn’t play well (laughing). My brother taught me things like A chord or E chord, in basic power chords, things like guitar solos came out very shaky. I recorded that. With a very simple cassette recorder with two buttons, play and record. I have no idea what happened with those cassette tapes, but I’d really kill to listen to them now (laughing).

-- To start a band and use a music studio in the junior high, that's quite remarkable. You were driven this much?

utA: Yeah, by X. I was also attracted by their looks and make up. It's not like all my friends were into the exactly same stuff but there were people who liked music. And there was one music instrument shop, I also went there often. The recording on the cassette tape happened at the end of junior high or start of high school. After X came LUNA SEA. It's a bit hard to explain, but in a way LUNA SEA matched my preferences better. Isn't LUNA SEA a metal band? With INORAN's clean guitar and SUGIZO's distorted guitar, this kind of separation was also novel. I got a shock running through me like 'I'll be damned, what was that?' There is such an awesome clean guitar like that? I though cleanly played super impressive phrases were amazing.

-- Your guitarist opinion was born at that time.

utA: That's right. It was a great impact, from creating sound, through phrases all the way to arrangement. I needed to know how do they get such beautiful sound. Until then I kept thinking that guitar sound should be distorted. I also learnt from music magazines etc that with a delay and chorus you will get a nice effect. And I remember listening to late night radio show "Break Out" or it was in some magazine that SUGIZO advised 'you can get our sound if you use an effector like this'. That's why the first effector I bought was the delay and chorus. My brother had the ones to create distortion, so I only had to add the delay and chorus. I also used my brother's Fender Made in Japan Strato(caster), so it was perfect for clean sounds.

-- So when you became a high school student did you get even more friends interested in music?

utA: I did. I would start talking about music right after coming back home. My home was our hanging out place, people were often surprised by the amount of CDs in my house (laughing). Listening to songs, we watched live DVDs and we all talked about the cool phrases we heard. And then I decided to buy a guitar model used by the artist I liked. So then it was exciting to talk about saving up for one (laughing).

-- You were already using a Stratocaster, but had another guitar you wanted?

utA: Now I know well that Fender’s Strato is a really good guitar, but at that time the look of the guitar was very important, it felt like strato was too simple. And that’s why I bought a guitar used by the artist I haven’t mentioned yet, so it might feel like coming out of nowhere, but it was the model used by Shin from Kuroyume. It was a Les Paul Model that came from GrassRoots, with two single coils. One of my friends was a big fan of Kuroyume so I often listened to their music and really got into Shin’s playing style. Les Paul models have nice shape and they can produce both clean and distorted/dirty sounds, so I decided to get Shin’s model. I was torn if I should get INORAN’s model instead, but it gave an impression of clean sound and because I also wanted to produce distorted sound I went with Shin’s. As a stupid kid your whole evaluation criteria is based on the sound created by the musician, right? Ah, but I just remembered that time I chose single coil. Even though for rock you’re much better off with guitars equipped with Humbucker.

-- You’re using the Fender’s Strato with sukekiyo.

utA: I am. I’m also using a Dragonfly, I’m swapping between them with a tap switch. If I had to say which is better, I like the sound of the single coil. I definitely got influenced by the clean sound created by INORAN. Even now I care a lot when creating clean sounds.

-- When JHS students get into bands and guitars, isn’t it easy for them to get easily misguided? They start to neglect their studies, join some band as a bassist, choose their high school based on the chances of starting a band there and so on.

utA: By some band you mean sukekiyo (laughing)? I don’t have an interesting story here, I really did my best studying as much as I could. My parents were so amazingly kind/supportive so I wanted to make them happy. I still feel like this. I didn’t want to give them any shock (laughing). At that time I remember I often felt they would be happy if I got good test scores. And I simply hate losing. I’m not someone for whom studying comes naturally, so I remember studying extra hard before the tests. In the past we also got ranked (depending on the test scores) so it was another motivation not to lose. But well, I ended up losing (laughing).

-- So you properly continued to high school?

(kyotaku: in Japan compulsory education ends with junior high school at the age of 16; high school is mostly for the sake of going to university.)

utA: If possible I wanted to go to the a good high school, but my teacher told me ‘it might be a close call so it’s better to go there’ (laughing). I went to the school they recommended. It wasn’t a normal high school, it was a technical school.

-- You get specific qualifications. So the course of your future was decided then?

utA: I loved music and guitar, but I didn’t see it as my dream future then. That’s why I was planning on going to university. If not I would be starting work, so I wanted to go to university. At the technical school you learn things like civil engineering or construction. So I applied for the referral to the university that had classes like that, but I was rejected. And I came to hate studying for entrance exams so I gave up on university (laughing).

-- Didn’t Takumi go to the university to study designing?

utA: He did. In this we are a bit similar. Our personalities are totally different, but we definitely share some things like our roots and some points. Takumi managed to go to university though, as I failed to get referred I had to look for another way (laughing).

-- And finally we are talking about starting a band?

utA: No, I started to work full time. At a surveying office in Niigata. I worked there for about 2 years. I hated studying for the entrance exams, but I got the national qualification for surveying. I remember I was thinking that if I have to do it then I have to get it and I was studying like crazy (laughing).

-- When you start working full time I think you shift to a totally different mode from being a student.

utA: Yeah, it was like that. But even as I was doing my best at work, after coming back home from work I was just listening to music all the time. And I spent all the money I earned going to music stores and buying up all the CDs. I had meant to enter a different mode but in the end it wasn’t possible. Most of the bands and musicians who were releasing music at the time were the same age as me, or just a bit older.

-- Did you start to feel a bit envious, feeling more that you could do that as well?

utA: Yeah. I started to write my original songs a bit from the end of HS. I was thinking that if I could make music that was my own style I could make it in music. That feeling has not changed until now.

-- If you were to describe your first original song, what was it like?

utA: Simply saying, it was very influenced by LUNA SEA (laughing). It wasn't a metal song, but it had clean and distorted sounds layered. I created 2~3 songs before I turned 20.

-- Did you do anything wanting to release those songs?

utA: So. I'd made a firm decision to quit my job at surveying office. When quitting I said honestly 'I want to pursue music, so please let me go' (laughing). And then my boss and coworkers cheerfully told me 'then do it!' I even had a farewell party with 'let us know when you release something' (laughing).

-- But for parents, there's no way they reacted like that. Like, 'my son who tried so hard, started working and even got a licence, now wants to quit to do music', there's no way a parent would be happy about that (laughing).

utA: You're right. My parents had a lot to say. It was probably the biggest nagging of my life, seriously. It was worse than puberty (laughing).

-- But you didn't change your mind?

utA: No, the need to pursue music was stronger than that. I quit my company when I was around 20, started to look for band members when I was around 21, when I actually managed to start a band I was around 22~23.

-- Did you try contacting your band mates from elementary and jhs times to network?

utA: I stayed in touch with my classmates, but they totally quit music. There was no way for a deep talk there. That's why I had to do it by myself, in a way starting from zero. First I started to look for band members through the music instrument shops. I've made posters about looking, wrote my contact information, the type of posters where you tear off the bottom bit. The shop staff let me post them in their shops.

-- A simple method. If I remember right, people used to post some self-introduction and a description what kind of band they'd like to do.

utA: I will again add another band name, but I listed X, LUNA SEA and La'cryma Christi. I was also hit hard by La'cryma Christi's worldview. Even as I heard about them quite late, I think after I graduated high school. X, LUNA SEA and La'cryma Christi had the biggest impact on me. My 3 pillars. I absolutely adore La'cryma Christi's "Henseifu". The moment you hear the song doesn't it feel like various scenes just come up?

-- Those scenes are stateless.

utA: Exactly, they are stateless, and full of sadness. When I first heard the 7/8 time signature, I was surprised like 'I'll be damned, what was that?' I was totally owned by that worldview. At that time, La'cryma Christi was my number one. For a while now I've been friends with HIRO, was able to play together with them once and even had a photo shoot together.

-- But currently TAKA is working in a jewellery industry, no? By the way, when you posted your 'looking for band members' ad, how many replies did you get?

utA: There were few, but one came from someone with whom we formed a band at the time. In 2013 my own band had disbanded, but I was most surprised when contacted by the guy who then spent all this time with this band. He asked 'please let me join', but I also asked him formally to join. I'm talking about the bassist, hati.

-- This band we're talking about is the visual kei of Niigata that has changed several times?

utA: Yeah. First it was Laypua, after that Layarch, then Rayarch. It was changing keeping the 'Lay/Ray' connection. The live performance activities were focused on Niigata city.

-- From looking for the band members to the formation of the band it took about one year, during that time were you writing original music ?

utA: I don't think we had more than 10 songs, but we had enough for one album. The band that done those songs took about one year to finally start activities. At the time, there was a music club (live house) near Niigata station called Z-1. I think now it's called CLUB RIVERST., my first live performing experience was at that club.

-- So it was the first show as a band that is the first step in following your dream. What was the response like?

utA: I think it was really terrible (laughing). At the time it was when we just decided our form/style, so we just went with 'let's hope this is cool enough' (laughing). I was looking for guitar phrases that would be very me, but I couldn't play them at all. We were trying really hard only with things to show, we also had heavy make up. For the so called artist photos, our vocalist was very skilled with creating great photos, so there was a lot of 'let's do make up more like this' etc, so at the meetings of band members the topic of the vusuals came overwhelmingly more often than music (laughing).

-- Your songs were similar style to La'cryma Christi?

utA: Nope, I loved La'cryma Christi, but our music was more like 'The Visual Kei' style. For our worldview, it felt like there's still more to come. It was quite heavy rock, could be said it was Tsutatsuta-kei (laughing). I was playing in this band in Niigata until I went to Tokyo, for about 4, 5 years.

(*Tsutatsuta-kei was a v-kei subgenre that developed in the early 2000s, as you can imagine from utA's comment it's heavy and fast; and like Nu Metal that influenced the subgenre there's a lot of shouting, and unconventional structures and variety of different styles)

-- If you continued for that long it means you had to have some fans?

utA: In Niigata we did, yeah. I felt 'I can do it' as it wasn't a band with no fans, so from the band's later time I started thinking about going to Tokyo. In Niigata what we could do was limited. So I told the band 'let's go to Tokyo, but most of members wanted to stay in Niigata. Each of them had their own life there.

-- Did other band members have proper jobs?

utA: Nah, everyone was working part-time. All of us prioritized the band. That's why I suggested we should go to Tokyo, but only me and hati, the bassist, were interested. And we left our home Niigata with guitar and bass for Tokyo having only about 40~50k yen between the two of us.

(*400~500 US dollars, 300~400 euro)

PART 2 HERE

#sukekiyo #utA #interview #rock and read #rock and read 091 #translation #9GOATS BLACK OUT

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wheezykat · 3 years

Note

8. tag someone (or multiple people) who make you feel good.

22. what would you say to your future self?

25. what’s the best personal gift someone could give you (playlist, homemade card, etc.)

28. hugs or hand-holding?

hi hi hi! 💛🖤

8. tag someone (or multiple people) who make you feel good.

@lou-isfake makes me happy and feel warm fuzzies. we have the same brain and she makes my day like, every damn day. what a joy! @vukovich is hilarious and v supportive. she makes me laugh all the time, and i adore her. @amortentiaboys! she is such a sweetheart and in general, good vibes. if you need a pick me up, you can just look at her tumblr. bea is amazing and was so welcoming when i came back to fandom and writing again. <3 @orange-peony is a gem, and an absolute delight to chat with. i adore them.

ofc, there’s many, many more. i’m so grateful for this lil community all the time.

22. what would you say to your future self?

it sounds super cliché, but definitely it gets better. i’m an awkward lil bean, always have been, so high school was kind of rough for me. i was a bit self destructive at times and had a hard time imagining what the future had in store for me. i’m so much happier now - i’ve got a steady job, a life partner whom i adore and love wholeheartedly, and i’ve made space for my hobbies and interests, so i am feeling much more fulfilled than i had ever before. <3

25. what’s the best personal gift someone could give you (playlist, homemade card, etc.)

oooh, this one is interesting. i love music, so any music recommendations or playlists - i take them v seriously. i love getting them! i also love when someone sings or plays an instrument for me. i have a definite soft spot for that. i also love it when someone bakes or cooks for me. it’s a fast way to my heart for sure :’)

28. hugs or hand-holding?

por que no los dos?! haha. but for real, if i had to choose, probably hand-holding. it feels like such a gentle, intimate gesture. i love holding my friends’ hands, when they’re happy or excited, when they’re having a hard time. i think it’s better than a hug sometimes, because you can be there for someone with that physical touch of holding their hand, but still be able to look at them and let them know you’re listening.

thanks for the asks bb! <3

more soft asks here!

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