#and also damn this was drafted but never finished so my sincere apologies

[trhowesteros]

❝  do  not  raise  your  tone  on  me.  it  is  not  i  who  participated  in  this  production.  ❞ tone is harsh, yet no louder than before. for she needs not volume to express rage.   ❝  i  would  have  been  pleased  should  you  have  stayed  loyal  to  your  betrothed.  for  you  were  not  displeased  with  the  change  -  i  know  you  well  enough  to  know  this.  ❞  i  know  you  well  enough  to  know  when  you  lie,  goes  unsaid  -  for  how  their  tells  are  just  the  same.  dragonstone  is  all  she  once  was,  and  yet  -  she  fears  -  far  more  godless.  ❝  i  denied  the  rumours,  prayed  to  the  gods  they  were  not  true  -  and  yet  you  were  seen  with  your  new bride  on  several  occasions  without  escort.  what  am  i  to  believe  -  than  that  this  was  planned? so many rumours spilt from the lips of court - how can i know now which are lies?  ❞ nimble  fingers  tighten on  ornate  goblet,  her  cupbearer  only  steps  away flinching. she needs not stand, instead waves hand dismissively to the boy, ❝  leave us, i have no need of you.  ❞ rather, no need for more whispers to spill from the room. the haste in his exit has matriarch exhaling sharply before her focus returns to kin. ❝  you are not  your  grandfather,  no  -  you  are  too  alike  your  father.   ❞ a  romantic,  who  had  been  too  wide-eyed  to  see  reality.  their  courtship  had  been  short,  an  alliance  made  quickly  to  ensure  rhaena  grant  the  throne  an  heir  once  more  (  she'd  not  had  long  to  mourn  the  first,  and  she  thanks  the  gods  with  each  day  that  rhaeys  resembles  him  so  little  ).  yet  he'd  still  tried,  had  done  his  best  to  bring  a  smile  to  his  grieving  bride's  face  -  and  for  a  short  while  had  succeeded.  this  spark  of  his,  now  gone  to  the  stranger,  has  seemingly  found  itself  in  their  firstborn.  ❝  you  burn  too  brightly,  rhaeys.  i  fear  the  gods  will  only  bring  you, and us all,  misfortune  should  this  continue.  ❞

childhood   memories   flood   psyche,   little   princeling   cowering   in   fear   because   he   committed   grave   sin   -   if   only   he   knew   back   then   that   children   make   mistakes,   a   mere   boy   groomed   to   be   king   one   day.   tongue   darts   out   to   moisten   lips   as   noble   avoids   mother's   gaze,   "   an   explanation   for   what,   your   grace.   i   was   told   to   marry   the   daughter   of   essos'   emperor   and   i   delivered   on   that   promise.   "   from   all   his   little   rebellions,   this   one   was   wrecked   before   they   got   in   too   deep.   "   you   act   as   if   i   defied   the   gods   on   purpose   ⸻   i   expected   to   marry   my   betrothed   on   my   wedding   day,   i   did   not   expect   to   see   my   wife   there   in   her   place.   "   earnest   words,   rhaeys   had   asked   catraena   to   run   away   with   him   but   she   left   him   broken   in   her   silence   ⸺   he   honored   his   duty   -   fulfilled   his   pledge   and   showed   loyalty   to   his   sovereign.   "   my   actions,   mother   ?   "   his   voice   finally   rose,   but   byzantium   optics   -   inherited   from   the   woman   in   front   of   him   -   were   still   shielded   away   from   champagne   -   haired   royal.   "   i   did   what   was   best   for   our   house,   our   kingdom,   and   you   ⸻   should   i   have   stopped   the   ceremony   when   i   unveiled   the   princess   and   saw   she   was   not   my   betrothed,   would   that   have   pleased   you   ?   "   finally,   crown   prince   moves   muscular   frame   to   meet   her.   "   mother,   "   he   adds   belatedly,   as   if   he   were   a   child   trying   to   steal   her   attention   -   to   impress   her,   make   the   queen   love   him   even   if   he   was   not   the   son   she   lost.   "   the   vows   in   the   eye   of   our   gods   where   already   whispered,   it   could   not   have   been   undone.   i   am   not   my   grandfather,   i   will   not   risk   their   wrath.   "

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Charlie Dalton, Neil Perry and Todd Anderson Taking Care of Their Sick S/O

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): Charlie Dalton x sick!gn!reader (romantic), Neil Perry x sick!gn!reader , Todd Anderson x sick!gn!reader (romantic)

Warnings: The reader has a cold so... yeah. Also, since I'm sick myself, my brain isn't really working at it's normal level so apologies for any mistakes! (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: Unfortunately I'm still sick (it's only been a few days). Fortunately, I'm still motivated to write headcanons to get me through this relatively mild illness (and I'm starting to feel better)! I've got a Todd one-shot draft that I started a year ago and never got around to finishing, so here's my first offering to the Dead Poets Society fandom. I'd love to write more for it, both reader-insert and not. I'm not sure if I'll end up writing any more sick fics (I've already written hcs for Yellowjackets and Abed Nadir and Annie Edison from Community) since I should be better soon, but if you're still interested check out my fandom list and requesting info and feel free to send an ask!)

CHARLIE

Charlie will jokingly tell you that you’re disgusting.

If you’re not amused by that, he’ll awkwardly but sincerely apologise, his mortification thinly veiled.

He isn’t entirely sure what the hell to do to make you less sick.

(He'll have to consult his more medically knowledgeable friends for advice)

He will ask you if you want him to kiss it all better.

(And he will not hesitate to kiss you when you give him the go ahead)

Suffice it to say, he does not care all that much about getting sick himself.

(A small part of him hopes that he does get sick so you'll have to take care of him)

He will spend so much time with you, you’d think you were dying.

He will also get you anything you ask for (even if it has no clear use in making you physically better- he just wants to make you happy).

If his earlier attempt at joking doesn't work, he'll still persist in cracking jokes and making you laugh to make you feel better.

(If your laughter causes you to break out into a coughing fit, though, he will feel awful).

NEIL

Neil knows exactly what to do.

He may not like his dad's dream of him becoming a doctor, but damn he has such a knack for looking after you.

He makes sure you’re drinking enough fluids and taking any medicine you need to take.

No matter how disgusting you might get, Neil is completely unfazed the whole time.

If anything, he'll find it funny and try to keep you in as high spirits as possible.

If he does mind getting sick, he certainly doesn't show it.

For example, he doesn't hesitate when kissing you on the cheek or forehead.

He loves you so much that it really won’t matter to him if you can- or do- get him sick.

He’ll regularly ask you if there’s anything that you want or need, and if you’re comfortable, and if you’re too hot or cold.

It’s evident that he cares about you getting better.

He’ll sit at your bedside and try to take your mind off of how you’re feeling.

But, he will insist that you need to rest up, so when you’re asleep or trying to fall asleep he’ll be as quiet as humanly possible to make sure he doesn’t wake you up.

If he does end up waking you, he’ll feel terrible about it.

He’s so loving and caring anyway, but especially when you’re sick.

TODD

This guy is fucking terrified.

He assumes that anything he does will only make you sicker.

A small part of him is convinced you will die under his care.

So, he begs Neil for advice, and Neil humours him so that Todd doesn’t drive himself nuts.

Todd will regularly ask you if you need something, and he’ll repeatedly offer you whatever Neil advised him about.

He’s also completely torn between his innate desire not to get himself sick, and his deep love and affection for you.

So, please don’t get upset with him if he recoils almost every time you cough and sneeze, because he does spend as much time as he possibly can at your bedside.

Speaking of which, Todd sits at your bedside like a loyal golden retriever.

He’ll hold your hand (internally panicking about your high temperature, of course) and place the occasional kiss on the back of it.

He’ll also read some of his poems, works in progress and completed, out to you, and he’ll make sure to pick plenty that are about you specifically.

Sure, he’s nervous, but you love his poetry and all he wants to do is reduce how terrible you feel.

[babyybitchhh]

Announcement

Alrighty, then. This post has been a long time coming so lets get right into it.

After much deliberation, I've decided not to push the self destruct button. I thought about it. Oh, when I say I was SO damn close to deleting this entire blog and all my fics right along with it. I'm frustrated and angry with myself, and I can't exactly say I'm doing well atm, but I know when things start to get better I'll want to write again, in earnest, and then I'd have to start over from scratch. Egg all over my face. Clown shit. We don't know her.

BUT. I think its clear to any and all that this is not working. It's just not. I expect too much of myself, for starters. And when it feels like others expect a certain level of performance from me that I just can't nail consistently due to my own ineptitude, my brain powers off. Is it some kind of executive dysfunction? Is it a fear of failing? A fear of success? Plain old anxiety? Who knows! I certainly don't. Whatever it is, it's hanging over my head like a guillotine. I'm beyond stressed and barely staying afloat irl, but then when I turn towards what should be a fun and therapeutic outlet all I see are expectations.

"When will you post the next chapter" on works that I WANT to finish but yet fear putting out a subpar product for and disappointing people.

"Will you write a follow up piece" for works that I WANT to expand on but don't know how to in a way that will make everyone else happy, let alone myself.

"Are you working on my request" for WIPs I have partially drafted and yet no way of knowing if that person - or anyone! - will even enjoy it.

I honestly feel guilty working on my own ideas instead of the multiple prompts in my inbox. I'm pretty sure that's part of my malfunction with my Ogun fic and others like it that are close to being done but remain unfinished simply because I'm thinking about what everyone else wants. It'd be one thing if I could just churn out content without a second thought but I can't. Like, it genuinely upsets me thinking that people are stuck in limbo waiting because I'm too chicken shit to just go with the flow instead of obsessing over every single line of text to the point of nausea, all for the sake of putting out "quality" content. I feel bad. I want to enjoy the writing process again, just like I did when I first got back into it with OsoSan. I shouldn't have started taking requests if I wasn't going to deliver, I know, and I sincerely apologize for my lack of foresight but it is what it is. I can't change the past. But what I CAN do is start fresh. So, long story short, there are going to be some changes coming to this blog.

A total revamp. I'm going to do an overhaul on the whole thing so don't be surprised when it starts to look different. I'm going to work primarily on navigation and organization, and try to tidy up a bit.

I'm turning off anon. Both because people looking to have a go with writers aren't so brave when that's no longer an option and also because I want to get as far away from those expectations as possible. I wont be reading or responding to comments on AO3 anymore for that same reason. I love you guys, and you're more than welcome to talk to me in DM's if you're more comfortable that way, but the long list of asks wanting to know wtf I'm doing in my spare time if not writing this or that is doing more harm than good.

I'm getting rid of the requests page and also purging any that I haven't already started working on - hopefully once I get into a better groove I'll actually be able to finish them, because I genuinely would like to. I really am sorry to everyone who's been waiting for their request to be fulfilled but I'm clearly not talented or confident enough to juggle my own ideas with someone else's. Maybe at some point in the future, when I'm a better writer, I'll start taking them again and we can all be happy.

And finally, I'm going to start experimenting with my writing method. As in, you're probably going to see shorter, less obsessively curated pieces popping up on my page that may not always be sexual in nature. I just really need to buckle down and work on this - all of it - and I'm determined to improve my skills even if it kills me. I have the urge to write every single day but it's hard when I'm the way I am and I've backed myself into a corner like this. I need to learn how to stop overthinking everything and just DO it. I know my productivity would increase and, with it, so would the overall quality of my work so I'm going to be focusing on different areas that need improvement. Not everything I put out will be good but that's part of the process, right? Right.

I totally understand if I lose followers for any of the above reasons, or even just personal ones, so don't hesitate to do so if you feel like you can't jive with this blog anymore. I appreciate you taking the time to read all this and I hope you understand my reasons for needing to do a reset on this page. This is exactly why I didn't want to start taking commissions and I would once again like to apologize to anyone I've let down.

P.S. I've had this distinct feeling that certain people in the writing community are not happy with me for a while now and although I'm not entirely sure what I've done wrong, I would still like to issue a formal apology for any toes I might have stepped on. That was never my intention. I can't claim to be a saint by any stretch of the imagination, but I have no ill will towards anyone. If its about the patreon I subscribed to and then left a month later, it had nothing to do with the author in question. I just belatedly realized I had more money coming out of my account than I could handle at the time and yes that weighs heavy on my shoulders. If its about the way I suddenly disappear in private chats, that's also something that shouldn't be taken personally. I genuinely have a hard time keeping up conversations with people, and I feel like a bother more often than not. If it's about the discords I join and then never participate in, see the above. If its about the way I fangirl or enthusiastically support some writers but not others, I never meant any harm by it. I just can't conceivably read everything that comes across my dash and, yes, my favorites are prioritized. Either way, whatever the grievances may be, anon will remain on until I start the revamp process some time tomorrow night so if whoever wants to air out their problems go for it. I probably wont post them but I will read them and try to learn from them, so have at it.

[hopeless-nostalgiac]

with all appliances and means to boot: ncis/tiva fic

for this challenge, @loudlooks​ requested Tiva + "I didn't know you could do that." thank you for the inspiration!! *hugs*

set summer between S3-4 w/ team dynamics & tiva (a LOT of tiva—they took over the fic, basically, and I’m not sorry about it) 

also, this turned out like eight times longer than I expected & was the most fun and freeing thing I’ve worked on in years, so

enjoy:) 

FFN

“I didn’t know you could do that!” 

McGee’s voice filtered over news-chattering televisions, incessantly ringing phones, and chicken-clacking keyboards to reach Tony at his desk. 

“There was no reason to mention it earlier. It is not exactly a useful skill, my friend.” Ziva’s full-throated chuckles were wind chimes amidst the office drudgery.

Tony shook off the eruption of gooseflesh on his arms. It was way too early for that. And McGee was babbling again.

“I’ve just never met someone in real life who could do it.”

“Really?!”

A boom of shared laughter enveloped them.

Glancing at the digital read-out on his monitor, Tony silently cheered. 9:07. Totally busted. Then he pretended to be busy with paperwork, so his attention was occupied ahead of time. 

The agents’ conversation lowered until it faded completely, coinciding with their entrance into the squadroom.

Tony had that effect on them now. The tables, as the saying went, had turned. They were the class troublemakers to his super-strict teacher. They, the unruly cadets, and he, the veteran drill sergeant. They were Agents; he was Boss. 

“Agent McGee. Officer David. You’re late.” 

McGee froze while swinging around his desk. Ziva froze after dropping her gear. Tony continued to stare yet not see the file in front of him, but he didn’t need visual confirmation to know the teammates were exchanging glances, coordinating their plan of counterattack. 

“Well, technically we were in the building on time.” The opening lob courtesy of McGee. 

“Technically, that’s not good enough, McTardy.”

“It was when you were wearing our shoes.” 

Tony fought an eye roll. “You can’t throw me off the scent with a well-timed idiom blunder, Officer David.” 

“Can’t I, Tony?” Ziva’s voice was louder, closer to him. 

Out of his peripheral vision, he spied her leaning on the divider between their workspaces. So close now, he caught a whiff of her lavender mint shampoo as she flicked at a cascade of curls that had fallen over her shoulder. If this was their strategy, well, it wasn’t the worst angle. 

But Tony DiNozzo was better. 

“No, you can’t,” he reiterated, finally gracing each of them in turn with his steady gaze. Calm, yet intense. Everything rumbling beneath the surface. “And it’s Agent DiNozzo. Or Boss.” 

Ziva stared back, golden-brown eyes matching his intensity, but not the calm. She rattled off a string of heated Hebrew, ending with a sharp snap of her teeth before spinning around on her heel and dropping heavily into her desk chair.  

Crazy chick.

“So, anyway. Just to be clear: If you’re here after me, you’re late. Period.” Tony slapped a case folder closed, causing his desk to tremble; he could emphasize his words, too. “For today, you can make amends by telling me whatever it is McGee didn’t know Ziva could do. I’m thinking it involves lots of stretching, but if there’s a video game reference, leave it out. Go!” 

And like that, authority forfeited for curiosity. 

McGee did roll his eyes and muttered something that suspiciously sounded like waste of time under his breath. Ziva scoffed, typing noisily at her computer and decidedly not looking in Tony’s direction. 

“That’s an order.” Even he didn’t buy the command. 

9:10. The day was shot. 

. . . 

If someone asked Tony how his first weeks as leader of MCRT were going, he’d say, “Good, considering the circumstances,” with a flash of white teeth. He didn’t like to lose face, sure, but he was pretty confident it was the truth, too.

Because when your boss quit and ran off to Mexico, leaving you in charge of a team that for years affectionately regarded you as The Class Clown, the circumstances weren’t on your side and ‘good’ was the most you could hope for.

. . . 

“What did you do?” 

Passing through the automatic doors, Tony came up short—as much due to the always assaulting antiseptic stench as the accusation. “Why do you assume I did something wrong? Can’t I come see my favorite Autopsy Gremlin with no ulterior motive?” 

“Sure you can,” Palmer called from the freezer section, where he was sliding a corpse home. “But I already talked to Abby, who talked to McGee.” 

Fantastic.

“So before, with the ‘what did you do?’...that was kind of redundant, huh?”

“Guess so.” A dorky chortle escaped the assistant. “I mean, seriously, they were only late by a couple minutes, Tony. Sorry, Agent DiNozzo.” Another hiccup of laughter. 

Great. Just great. 

“Gee, I was hoping I could escape some of the ridicule down here....” Tony pressed his palms against the cold steel of an autopsy table, shoulders hunched, depositing weight into the defeated stance. All his course-correcting tactics, including buying his team lunch, had done little to reverse the morning’s death blow. McGee and Ziva were ignoring him aside for a lone campfire, and then their interactions were clipped—aggressively so where the ex-assassin was concerned. Now the damage was spreading to the sub-basement, it seemed. 

“Look on the bright side, you’re the team leader. It’s what you’ve always wanted, right?” Palmer mirrored Tony on the other end of the table, adjusting his glasses before adding, “This is a bump in the road, but no one ever achieved greatness without first overcoming resistance.” 

“That’s wise, Palmer. For a man who talks to the dead. You wouldn’t happen to know—”

“What McGee didn’t know Ziva could do?” 

Tony blinked. Maybe they’d been underestimating the Autopsy Gremlin all along. “Yeah. Know anything about it?” 

“It’s not a big deal. We were at the bar last night and first the waitress got Abby’s drink order mixed up, but it was super busy, so I suggested that—”

“Sometime today, Palmer.” 

“Well, it turns out Ziva can knot a cherry stem with her tongue, and then...” 

Oh, it was more wondrous than he’d guessed (and that list was long).

Palmer’s rambling dissolved to the background of Tony’s thoughts. He couldn’t get to the audacity of everyone going out for drinks without him because the dexterity of Ziva’s tongue was front and center. As he was recently familiarized with that very tongue and the talented mouth it resided in, it was all too easy to lose himself in a sexy daydream of the alleged feat.

Until he remembered how pissed she was at him. Bubble, burst. 

. . .

If someone asked Tony how his first weeks sleeping with Ziva, his former partner and current subordinate, were going, he’d say, “What? I’m not—we’re not—how dare—what?!” 

Because when your boss quit and ran off to Mexico, some of his rules haunted you. 

. . . 

“Rough day?”

Tony looked up right away. It was best not to play games with the director, who emerged stealthily in the dim, empty squadroom. He’d dismissed McGee and Ziva at regular quitting time, unable to make eye contact with either of them—for different reasons—but stayed behind to catch up on last week’s case reports. Him, voluntarily completing paperwork. 

Rough was an understatement.  

“I see my shortcomings are making the rounds.” 

Jenny’s smile was beautifitic, the one she wore during news interviews. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t seeking it out. I was speaking to Ducky on a separate matter, and he happened to mention talking with Mr. Palmer, who—”

“Got the scoop from Abby because McGee blabbed to her,” Tony finished, barely restrained. “Yeah, I’m well acquainted with the watercooler daisy chain.” 

It didn’t slip his notice that Ziva was the missing link. The text he’d started writing to her the second she disappeared through the elevator doors was unfinished and unsent on his phone. 

“Did you also hear they went for drinks after work without inviting me?” It came out as a whine.

Jenny didn’t mask her amusement. “Did you always invite Gibbs for drinks? No, because he was your boss and you were probably venting about him.”

Touché.

“I’m trying, ma’am.” This he intoned with every fiber of professionalism and sincerity he could summon in the moment. The problem was that this wasn’t his first mistake since taking over—wouldn’t be the last—but he was trying. He wanted that noted. Also, there was an insane learning curve, and yes, big shoes to fill. Could he be blamed for that?

The redhead stepped forward, switching her smile for an expression of...not quite pity. Understanding? “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, Agent DiNozzo.”

“Robin Hood: Men in Tights?” 

“Shakespeare.” Jenny chuckled, her fair eyes sparkling in the light of his desk lamp. Tony could see why Gibbs was once head-over-heels for her, back when they were partners. He knew something of those complicated emotions, of which the text draft on his phone contained damning evidence. 

“It’s the nature of being in charge,” she continued. “You’re going to have crappy days and plenty of nights when you can’t sleep. My advice, from experience? When you screw up, apologize and do better next time.”  

“Isn’t that a sign of weakness?” It was a reflex, after so many years. 

Jenny caught his eye and held it. “No. It’s a sign of respect.” 

. . .

He was sober when he showed up on her doorstep. Stopping off for some liquid courage briefly flitted through his brain, but flitted out just as quickly. McGee, he could buy a NutterButter, eat some humble pie himself. All would be cool again. Ziva was a different story. 

Namely, a story with a lot of sex in it, and it’d barely been a month yet. That he spent a large portion of the day envisioning her tongue doing erotic dances with a red cherry stem wasn’t helping. It also further convinced him of a brutal truth: Things were changing. Things had already changed. 

Ziva, outlined by the glow from inside the apartment, crossed her arms over a baggy workout t-shirt. Curls piled in a messy bun. It was Tuesday, kickboxing night. “If you are here for a booty call, you will be sorely disappointed.” Each word was wrapped in her delicious Israeli accent, momentarily distracting him from their sum meaning.

He’d expected as much.

“See, when you want to get them right…” Tony’s attempted humor and roguish smile failed to earn him leniency. 

“Goodnight, Boss.”

The door hurtled toward him, closing on his chance to repent—and more than that, his chance with her. His left hand flew up, catching the wood with a few inches to spare. 

“Hey, whoa. Wait. I’m here to apologize, all right?” Breath whooshed in and out of him; sweat beaded instantly on his forehead.  

Okay, so it wasn’t just about the sex. He was enamored with her, and it hadn’t been a full month yet.

Ziva yanked the door back, though the arrangement of her features maintained dubious feelings. She raised her eyebrows in a way that said, Yes, and?

“I was an idiot, Ziva.”

A corner of her delicate mouth pulsed. “Good start.”

The heaviness in his chest released. He dared another smile, softer-gentler this time, and the door stayed open. “I was too hard on you and McGee.”

“You will apologize to him as well, yes?”

“Yes. McSweetTooth will wet himself with glee, I’m sure of it.” Tony shuffled his feet, bringing him onto her brown doormat, never dropping her gaze. “But seriously, Ziva, I know I messed up, especially, you know...I mean, you should be able to call the guy you’re sleeping with by his first name, even if he’s your boss. That is,” he sheepishly tagged on, “if I’m still the guy you’re sleeping with, after today.”

For a bloated handful of seconds, Ziva froze, as she had that morning in the squadroom. Eyes like lasers, drilling through him. It lasted long enough for doubts to creep in. Then—

“Are you?”

So simple, but coupled with her head tilted to expose honeyed neck, her popped knee, and the slight part of her plumped lips, the challenge was clearly set for him. 

This would be fun. 

Tony launched over the doorway, literally sweeping Ziva off her feet as he plowed into the apartment. An honest-to-goodness squeal filled his ears, then that wind-chime laugh took over and his knees wobbled in their sockets—nevermind her 100-something pounds hanging on his torso. 

It was the first time he’d carried her this way—any way—but her arms and legs wrapped around his body with an ease he would have analyzed if not for the supple give of her breasts against his chest, or her frizzy hair tickling his chin. Her mouth alternated between whispering the dirtiest promises in his ear and nibbling on his neck. Thoughts would have to wait. 

How they shut the front door, how they maneuvered the hallway to her bedroom, how they undressed and (eventually) found the bed was a haze of details that didn’t matter. The shudder that coursed through her at his every touch, mattered. The inverted bridge her back made when his lips and tongue met her center, mattered. His name on a gasp, woven into a sigh, lifted to a shout...

In this area, Tony DiNozzo excelled. He was damn well going to prove it. 

. . . 

It took two rounds to sate her. The first go was part of the apology; the second was because he had a young, hot lover who could run eight miles at the crack of dawn, kickbox for an hour after work, and still have energetic sex with him—twice. Who wouldn’t take advantage of that? 

“Guess I got that booty call after all.” He love-tapped her ass, which was bare to the air. He braced for retaliation. 

None came.

Hair mussed and cheeks flushed, Ziva glanced over, fixing him in her line of sight. A smirk hiked up the side of her mouth not buried in the pillow. “As did I, Agent DiNozzo.”

“Never going to live that down, am I?”

“Give it a few months.” Her smirk widened as her eyelids drooped, each blink taking longer and longer to pull back up. 

. . .

They dozed together in the dark of her bedroom. They weren’t cuddlers, per se. Their connections left them too sensitive, sticky and unspooled. They stayed close, though. Touching random pieces of her to him, him to her. His head resting on her bicep curled closest to the mattress. Her ankle molded to the arch of his foot. Sometimes as conventional as their hands laid one atop the other, fingers loose. 

. . . 

He began talking while they ate cereal in the kitchen at quarter to eleven. He was talking as she cleaned and put away their dishes and led him to the front room, his body going where she steered and nudged. What he voiced was nothing new to either of them. All the same issues that overwhelmed him on a cool May night, that propelled him to Ziva’s door in what would become a habit. He was drowning; she was refuge. 

For that, and so many other reasons, he trusted her without question. 

Ziva allowed him to talk now because that was how he worked out problems. They both knew that, too. 

“I think it comes down to the fact that...I don’t know how to be a team leader that isn’t Gibbs.” The admission floated and settled on the sofa cushion between them. It wasn’t often they said his name anymore. The memory was sore to the touch. 

“We have been over this, yes?” Ziva tossed a leg across his lap, the other tucked beneath her. He immediately claimed the tanned skin of her thigh, rolling it under his hands. “This is a chance to be your type of leader, make your own rules.” 

“Every time I do that, it blows up in my face.”

“Not every time,” she corrected, her eyes darting to his lips and lingering. 

His heart rate ticked up. Very true. They might not have happened if Gibbs hadn’t left. But… “We’re one thing, Ziva. The team is another.”   

She turned his chin with her hand, locking his gaze with her steady and fervent stare. An imposing combination. “Tony, you either keep trying or you quit, just like Gibbs. What will it be?” 

It was Tony’s turn to sneak a not-so-subtle glance at her lips. When she put it like that, the answer was undebatable. What he’d told Jenny wasn’t a lie. And giving up wasn’t an option. 

Didn’t mean he’d hand her the win that easily. 

“How about we make a deal?” While his eyebrows waggled, his hands roamed farther than her thigh. “I persevere with the team leader thing. In exchange, you show off your fancy cherry stem tying prowess for me.” 

Her mouth gaped, eyes narrowing. “Who told you?”

“Palmer. The guy’s actually not a bad sounding board.” He’d have to remember that for future thorny cases. 

Ziva deflected, “I do not have any cherries in the fridge.”

Tony returned, “That wouldn’t stop a true parlor trick magician like yourself.”

Her face reformed in an expression that always intrigued him. A cat devising the perfect trap for her prey. It didn’t surprise him when she stretched her leg out, straddling his lap properly. He circled her low back, drawing her hips over him and generating a spark of friction. There was extra verve in her fingers burrowing the short hairs at his nape, tipping his head upwards. 

“You must really want me to—”

Ziva covered his lips with hers, swallowing his words as they melted to moans. Instead of continuing hot and heavy, everything slowed. Each kiss long and needy, a continuous caress. Her heady spice invaded his senses. The tip of her tongue slipped by his teeth, running the roof of his mouth before pushing in further.

Tony’s spine straightened at the sensation of tongue against tongue, the rough texture, the strokes and flicks. He gripped whatever part of her was in his reach, would likely leave marks. She didn’t flinch. She was all around him, practically tying him in a knot. 

It was exactly how he imagined it, but also superior.

He was smiling when they broke apart, breath imperative for them both. “Your ingenuity is an inspiration, Ms. David.” 

Ziva winked, leaning forward to kiss him again, a casual closed-lipped peck in the wake of such an intimate encounter. And he knew, no matter what came of leading the team, he wanted this—them—to survive. 

“Now you must honor your part of the deal, Tony.” 

“Whatever you say,” he agreed, flipping her onto the cushion and following her down for round three.

. . .

The next day, Tony waited at his car in the parking lot for his team to arrive. He walked into the building with them, and didn’t check the clock in the mornings ever again. 

He apologized to McGee, which just freaked out the newly-appointed Senior Field Agent. As Tony predicted, the Nutter Butter made all the difference. 

By the end of the week, he brought Special Agent Lee onto the team because there was symmetry in four and they needed a probie to act as a buffer. Plus, she was good at meeting case report deadlines and Tony wasn’t.

He doubled-up on campfires and went to Jenny for advice more often. Palmer, too. 

The team went out for drinks, occasionally inviting him to join. Occasionally not. 

A month later, he and Ziva started keeping their love in each other’s hearts along with spare clothes in one another’s dressers. Soon, there would be no sense hiding them anymore. 

And when someone asked Tony how leading his own team was going, he said, “Our results speak for themselves,” and meant it. 

Because when your boss quit and ran off to Mexico, leaving you in charge, you wore the crown and made it your own. 

fin

[wetookanoath]

personal struggles, the fate of this and other blogs and apologies.

This year so far has been strange and not good for me and this blog. Some of you know my long history with hate in this fandom and while it’s always nice to hear your kind words, the hate I get is every day worse to the point I had to take off the anonymous option on this blog, my personal, the Library, the writing events and even the damn porn blog.

A few months ago I said I was gonna delete all blogs, and as promised I also deleted my twitter account, passed the instagram account to someone else (who hasn’t done anything with it yet), deleted other b*zzf*ed related blogs I ran, and left others I helped in.

I answered to every and all asks on this blog and the porn blog (most asks now on queue or drafts, waiting to be posted slowly to not spam), finished the event that didn’t went as good as it seemed and passed the administration of the Library to my personal account to never left it die down.

During this time, something happened in my personal life and I found myself in a very dark place I never thought I would go back to after it happened to me many years ago. But it did, and I had to dealt with it all over again, but this time there was a difference, this time I knew were to start and it helped me because I was able to ask for what I needed and get help.

I’m on meds again. I’m not proud of it and it... makes me angry that I’m ashamed to admit it. I’m making less money, lost a person, stopped writing, entered a rehab therapy for two weeks for depression (I didn’t tell anyone but my family, which won me a very long fight with my best friend and two of my best friends online), ended in the hospital last month. 

That long period I spent away from this blog, forgetting to answer replies I got e-mails for and the days of check-in and whatnot for the Exchange, god they were so good even with all that mess going on. I watched and read so many things, even if suffered not writing and other physical things. But I felt good, I really did. Which I think it’s why I was happy to get back here, just to find hate on my inbox yet again (from the same person as always, by the way. This woman really is the saddest person on the planet. Yes, it’s about you. I know you are reading this), and I really thought “why do I keep doing this to myself?”

And then weeks ago I finally realized why. And it’s because I like this show so much. I like the pictures and the stories, the chat group I’m in even if sometimes I feel like they don’t like me, and most important, in spite of all the hate we get here, I love the stories I write for this fandom, and my ship. I’ve never wrote this good, gotten the chance to improve and learn better english too.

I love the writer I am in this fandom and I have wrote so much these past few weeks, and all because I started to write shy*n again. 

So what do I do?

There are days when I forget this blog exists. It’s been so boring, this hiatus and how things have changed, the lack of content makes things dry and easier to forget. I just forget it exists, but then when I get in, it’s fun when there’s no hate. I find it entertaining to go into my blogs and tag everything properly, organize tag pages and make lists of films based on things, make edits, answer old asks I didn’t have time for before.

Since now that anonymous is off I don’t get any asks, I had have the chance to answer in depth so many things I had left behind before, it’s been fun. Like it used to be, January-July of 2018 came again to remind me of how things were before The Change. I enjoyed preparing this blog for my deperture, and I found myself not wanting to go.

My first thought after that revelation? “People is going to hate on me on anonymous for changing my mind”. Isn’t that fucking sad? That I have to condition everything I do so people won’t hate me on anonymous and say horrible things just because I complain bout things, then calm down and change my mind like any other normal person does on a daily basic... on my own, personal blog? 

So, so far, this is what will happen:

The blog reminds, since it’s also kind of an archive for this fandom with how much has been posted that I know it’s resourceful to people for all kinds of things.

Anonymous will perpeturally be off in all my blogs. The Library’s inbox will remain closed.

I’m still going to take my long periods of ignoring this blog, so I’m sorry if you sent me any qs and I don’t answer right away.

It will be on perpetual semi-hiatus, since I will come back once a week to answer things, tag stuff, stock the Library’s queue and the one on this blog.

About the updates, I’m just going to post things I would like to archive myself.

New fanfics/chapters of fics coming every Saturday until I’m done posting everything I wrote these weeks. I’m still writing, so I guess my day of the week to check replies, messages and asks will be on Saturday.

I don’t think I will be around for the new season, not the way I used to. I’m so gonna watch it, but no posts from me anymore. This is a big maybe, since I’m not sure of many things right now, especially with my health as fragile as it is right at the moment.

There’s, so far, 131 original posts on queue. These are: lists that were requested on this blog on such things like all episode Shane called Ryan ‘baby’, personal favorite shyan moments with links (I worked so much in this one, I ended up hating it), etc., edits from many things, included shoots found in old articles and so on, the ongoing ‘fave insta pics’ series of Ryan, Shane, TJ, Sara, Kelsey and the boys in other people’s instagrams, more favorite fanfic edits, and more buzzships edits. Also, a few headcanons, rec lists and solo recs.

Queue will post three posts a day, one original text, one reblog, one original edit. Texts are less than the edits, so when they are over, it will be two edits and one reblog. I will be stocking the queue during my weekly visit, so I don’t know if it will eventually run off original posts or not. 

Library reminds what it is, inbox closed until further notice.

Writing Events is over, though. I’m too tired for that. At least for a long break.

This really all depends on my health and how things are once the show is back. I miss the interaction a lot, so having lost the anonymous option it’s really a big bummer for me, and maybe to the people who did like to interact with me and the blog’s content in a positive way via this option. We’ll see.

And finally, I want to apologize not only for the long of this but for my negative reactions months ago. It was wrong, childish at times and out of character. I didn’t realize I was getting bad, and when I did it had already gotten worse. I can now look at all those desperate posts and see how bad I really was at keeping it together and how desperate I was to be okay. 

While I still believe I didn’t deserve the harassment I was getting, I should had never given onto it and answer back. I shouldn’t. It was not only bad for me, but to the people who followed/follows this blog and engaged into the negativity too. 

I caused that by acting exactly how the hateful people wanted me to, and instead of showing myself as the imperfect human being I am, all people saw was a crying girl asking to be appreciated and loved back. And the reality is that forcing those things to happen won’t make it any better, on the contrary, it makes it worse.

All those times I said, “why does people have to insult me for you to care about me?”, it was because I made it happen. I decided to posts those answers and reply to the hate, and it made people, worried by my answers and the tone of them (yeah, I was pretty suicidal and paranoid, I didn’t realize until recently), send their support. It made it look like that was the case, that I needed to be hurt for people to appreciate me.

But now, I don’t post those things. Had to shut down anonymous asks. And last week I got one ask, just one, of someone saying they love this blog. There was no reason for it, just someone who saw me online and send in their positivity. And it was the best thing in the world, those short words, the best ones.

So yes. My sincere and deepest apologies to everyone, involved or not, for having acted, well, toxic in the past months. Hopefully, it won’t happen again. Meds, no anon and semi-hiatus will make a difference, I hope. And things will be fine.

Thanks for the support, the kindness and the love. And thanks for reading this bible.

Love you,

Nina.

[dreamscapesin1582]

Day Three: The Gift of Life

Lancelot Kingsley x MC

The King of Hearts sat by his desk, a stern look on his face as he went over dozens of papers that required his overview, but as serious as he appeared to be, his mind was wandering somewhere else.

It's been quite a while since Lancelot Kingsley has wedded and found his queen.

He was pretty damn sure that he wasn’t going to be able to feel the joys of love. Well, he wasn’t really sure he was going to live for another decade or even more than that. He was certain that he lived for his land, and he was going to die for his land.

But then an otherworldly miracle came to him.

And it happened like a fairytale, but cruelly detailed with ups and downs and strokes with death. All those painted a bittersweet yet painfully beautiful romance, and with the spell of a beating heart, it grew into an unbreakable bond.

When justice prevailed and peace has returned, they lived their happy ever after together.

Lancelot's quill paused mid-signature, breathing out an airy chuckle as he reminisced the day his heart was finally one with her.

They weren’t getting any younger, but he doubted this whenever he remembered the dazzling look on her face even behind the veil. The way she graced the path of rose petals to come towards him. The fact that he sworn he could have grown blind to the sheer magnificence of the sight of her in a white gown, and that she was going to be his for the years to come.

“I, Lancelot Kingsley, swear with all my being that I will love you and cherish you, until I am nothing but dust scattered in the wind. Everything that I am is yours, and everything that I will be is dedicated to you, my beloved.”

“You are my sun.”

And a kiss under the full moon sealed their vows to remain at each other's sides until death do they part.

But for them, even death may not be enough to separate them.

…

Edgar and Zero were just passing through the hallway, the usual bickering between mentor and protégé, when they found the queen walking alone on the side. It was strange, considering how she was slightly leaning her hand on the wall.

“...My lady?”

They rushed to get to her as Edgar fortunately caught her before she collapsed to the ground. “You are supposed to stay in bed if you feel unwell.”

She smiled sheepishly with half-lidded eyes. “Oh... I'm fine.”

“I'll take her to her room. Zero, be a good boy and fetch Kyle.”

“You don't have to tell me.” With that retort, the ace dashed to the infirmary. Edgar gently guided the lady back to her room, much to her protest that fell on deaf ears.

“…I'm fine, really. I just lost concentration for a second.”

“Mm, sure. But we have to let Kyle decide about that.” Edgar chided, keeping her company in her room until the doctor arrived.

Kyle entered the room with a frown, “You look pale.”

“Should I thank you?”

“Hm, a snarkier response. Yeah, there is something wrong.” He concluded with a casual shrug, approaching to check her. Edgar excused himself eventually with Zero to continue with their duty, but with a short get-well wish that she didn’t take quite seriously for a moment.

When Kyle finished with his check-up, he was in denial for two minutes straight. But then he realized—it has been quite a while ever since the wedding.

She herself didn’t handle it any easier. She had to make Kyle tell her thrice, just to make sure. Then he needed to remind her to breathe because she had no idea what to make of the news, but the smile on her lips bloomed naturally.

“Well, congratulations.” He smiled. The joy in her face was infectious, after all. “I'll take Lance out of the officers’ meeting later so he'd meet you.”

“…No,” she decided, rubbing circles on her tummy as she faced the confusion on Kyle’s face, “I'll tell him tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” It took him a moment to realize what her plan entails. “Oh. He'd be happy.”

“I hope so.” She giggled. “Thank you, Kyle.”

…

11th of January.

Jonah just had to insist a grandiose party for his king. The others were eager to, and Lancelot gave up on arguing about it, not when one of those favoring the idea is his beloved.

But it did made him curious as to why her gift was the lightest of all.

He sat there, staring right at her eager eyes as she smiled and told him to open it. He gracefully opened the pretty paper bag, and there he found a picture. A peculiar kind of picture.

An oven? Baking? Is this supposed to be a riddle? A hidden message?

It had something to do with baking. Baking bread in the oven. What kind of bread is that? Is that a bun?

“Do you understand, my dear?”

“A bun... in the oven.”

And then it hit him. Apparently, it hit him so hard he could not sit down any longer. He caught her shoulders and gazed straight into her eyes to search for truth, doubting the bubbling happiness inside him.

“Y-You are carrying... a child?”

He looked so sweetly nervous that she thought it was cute to find him this way.

“Not just any child. Your child. Ours.” She giggled as she couldn’t help but shed a tear. “We're going to be a family now.”

“I... I can't believe it.” Lancelot was speechless as his hands fell away from her shoulders. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. “I'm going to be a father?”

What if he was inadequately prepared? What if he wasn't good enough? What if he wasn't able to raise such an innocent little thing?

“Lance,” her gentle voice pulled him away from his thoughts, “I'm sure you're going to be a good father.”

He inhaled sharply. There was this feeling in his chest that was indescribable, he didn't know what to make of it. Something was rising from deep inside, and soon it overflowed.

“Oh, Lance...” she smiled as gentle as the soft rays of the sun in the early hours of day. She reached out and cupped his cheek, sliding her thumb on his skin and it felt... wet.

Did he cry?

“I feel so... happy.” He murmured, letting out a breathless chuckle. He noticed his voice trembled.

“I know.”

A smile finally appeared on his lips. "I am overjoyed, almost too much. What am I going to do with this much happiness?"

Lancelot embraced her and lifted her in the air. That exclaim of surprise was such music to his ears that he got excited and twirled her around.

Her laughter was so mellifluous that it made wonders to ease his worries. Applause exploded in the room, along with well wishes and congratulations. The officers approached them as soon as Lancelot placed her back to the ground.

Zero was the first to speak up. “Congratulations to you both.”

“Congratulations!” Kyle grinned. “Glad your plan worked.”

“I was so nervous for a moment there.” She said. “He looked so confused.”

“I do apologize for being slow on the uptake.” Lancelot placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, and she knew she forgave him already. Kyle only chuckled while shaking his head.

“King Lancelot, I offer my sincere congratulations to you and the lady.” Edgar smiled at the both of them. “And it seems I also have to speak for our Queen of Hearts. He seems unable to stop himself from crying for a while now.”

“I AM NOT!” Jonah yelled from the corner of the room, but the sniffles that followed said otherwise. “CONGRATULATIONS TO THE BOTH OF YOU!”

“Thank you, Jonah!” She happily shouted back.

They continued to chat away as the party continued on with a new light. Lancelot was surrounded by so many people, so many smiles, and he never felt more at ease to see that his painful efforts and sacrifices before had not been put in vain.

He never felt so much joy with a gift presented to him. He placed a hand on her stomach, and a smile just naturally appeared. He faced her, pressed his forehead against hers and caught her gaze within his. His eyes trembled with emotions still.

“Thank you so much.”

She giggled again. He leaned in closer, and proved his gratefulness with a kiss of a lifetime.

it has just come to my attention that this wasn’t posted yesterday and it was only saved as a draft lmao.

[ambitionsource]

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

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows)

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

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

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

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

Cue title sequence.

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

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

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. RILEY’S BEDROOM - DAY

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

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

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

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

INT. FOSTER HOME - KITCHEN - DAY

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

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

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

Isadora doesn’t answer, shuffling out the door.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

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

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

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

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

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

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

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charlie: Nah, it’s cool. I want to.

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

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

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

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

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

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

Riley: Did you do something new with your hair?

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

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

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

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

Lucas: Okay. Cool.

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

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

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

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucas: Is that a problem?

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

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

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

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

Jack: Excellent. Sounds like a plan, then.

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

Jack: Great.

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

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

Lucas: [ from outside ] Weird!

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

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

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

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

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

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

Riley: Yes! Yes!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. AUDITION HALL - THEATER - NIGHT

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

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

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

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

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

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

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

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

Lucas: Oh. [ a beat ] Oh…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, boy.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

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

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

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

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

Maya: Bye, Farkle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

Thursday. One day left before the auditions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. AAA - TEACHER’S LOUNGE - DAY

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

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

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

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. FOSTER HOME - ISADORA’S ROOM - NIGHT

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

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

INT. FOSTER HOME - ENTRYWAY - NIGHT

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

Isadora: Come on, pick up –

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

INT. RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

INT. FOSTER HOME - ENTRYWAY - NIGHT

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

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

INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

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

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

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

INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

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

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

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

He shuts his locker, scurrying off to class.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

Charlie: Can I be brutally honest?

Zay: You? If you think you can.

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

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

Zay: You shut your mouth.

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

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

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

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

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

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

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

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

Farkle: Why?

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

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

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

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

EXT. NEW YORK - NIGHT

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

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - NIGHT

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

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

INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

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

INT. FOSTER HOME - ENTRYWAY - NIGHT

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

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

INT. LUCAS’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

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

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

EXT. AUDITION HALL - NIGHT

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

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

INT. AUDITION HALL - ENTRANCE - NIGHT

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

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

Zay: All yours, ladies.

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

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

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

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riley, softly: You look good.

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

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

Eric rallies the troops.

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

Jack: Always do when it comes to us.

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

INT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ambrose: Oh, sure.

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

Ambrose: With two and half days of school left?

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

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

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

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

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

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - LOBBY - NIGHT

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

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

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

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - BALLROOM - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riley: UH-HUH?

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

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

Jack: Looks like that went well.

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

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

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

Lucas: No. Mm mm. Don’t trust that.

Riley: What? Why?

Lucas: Doesn’t look like real food.

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

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

He stares at it, then her.

Lucas: I have two hands.

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

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

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

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

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

Evelyn: Are you a representative as well?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. AUDITION HALL - THEATER - NIGHT

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

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

Isadora: Is he here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - BALLROOM - NIGHT

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

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

Lucas: No, I didn’t –

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

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

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

INT. AUDITION HALL - DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

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

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

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

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - BALLROOM - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - NIGHT

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

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

EXT. CHARLIE’S CHURCH - NIGHT

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

INT. AUDITION HALL - THEATER - NIGHT

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

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

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

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

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

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - BALLROOM - NIGHT

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

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

Riley: Well, thank you. I think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. AUDITION HALL - THEATER - NIGHT

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

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - BALLROOM - NIGHT

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

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

EXT. AUDITION HALL - NIGHT

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

INT. AUDITION HALL - THEATER - NIGHT

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

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

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - BALLROOM - NIGHT

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

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

INT. AUDITION HALL - THEATER - NIGHT

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

INT. JACOBS ARTS GALA - BALLROOM - NIGHT

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

EXT. AUDITION HALL - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

INT. AUDITION HALL - DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

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

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

Zay: Charlie. You’re here.

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

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

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

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

Zay: I took your advice. So.

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

Zay: You think so?

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

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

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

Zay: Come on.

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

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

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

Charlie, breathlessly: Who needs oxygen?

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

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

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

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

INT. JACK’S CAR - MOVING - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

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

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

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

Lucas: [ after a beat ] A friend.

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

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

Grace, surprised: Are you sure?

There’s another beat of hesitation. Then, Lucas’s expression softens.

Lucas: Yeah. I am.

He bids his mother goodnight, disappearing from the kitchen doorway. Grace watches him go, a bit bemused. Sensing a major change of heart in her son, absolutely clueless as to where it came from. But it doesn’t seem like a bad thing. Not at all.

After a moment she smiles, returning to her work.

EXT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Maya is seated on the steps in front of her building, the street glimmering with the lights of the city and early morning dew. Farkle appears around the corner, marching towards her with his hands in his pockets. It’s not clear how far he’s walked alone in the middle of the night.

He’s frantic, full of nervous energy. She doesn’t bother to acknowledge him as he approaches. He stops in front of the steps, waiting for an invitation. When he doesn’t get one, he plops down next to her anyway. He bounces his legs restlessly, a sharp contrast to her plaintive calm.

They’re silent for a long moment. Maya clears her throat, ready to tell him off.

Maya: Are you lost, Farkle? It’s midnight and you live across town –

Farkle: I don’t want to be alone.

The statement takes Maya by surprise. She frowns, turning her gaze to him. He keeps staring straight ahead, rubbing his palms on his knees. Still fidgeting. His speech is scattered, panicked.

Farkle: I don’t know why I’m like this. Why I get this way. I tell myself it’s just the ambition, the drive pushing me towards my destiny, but I don’t know. I don’t think your destiny is supposed to feel this suffocating. Claustrophobic. [ a beat ] It’s like, if you’re going to do anything in this world you’ve got to be the best. And if you’re gonna do something as stupid as performance art, then you really have to be the best or else you’ve got nothing. And I didn’t want to be a nothing. I can’t be a nothing.

Maya listens intently, contemplative and somewhat stunned. Almost a year of friendship, or whatever the two of them are, and he’s never been this vulnerable.

Farkle: And if you’re going to be the best, that means fuck the rest. Right? If you’re at the top, then it means no one else can be. That’s what I always thought. That’s what made sense. But I’ve got this… it’s like I’ve got this whole other side to me that has a new motivation. And I don’t think I can survive with two. It’s like I’m splitting down the middle. But I know they’re both true. They’re both all-consuming. [ a beat ] I want to be the best. I want to get the auditions and the summer programs and get everything I deserve. I want it so badly, it’s blinding.

Maya waits, a bit more guarded. This much, she already knew.

Farkle: But I want to share it, too. I want to do it with people who are just as talented and star-bound as me. I want a team. I don’t want to be alone.

Farkle finally looks away from the street, forcing himself to meet her gaze. He hesitates, then speaks definitively. Like if he doesn’t say it, it’ll suffocate him.

Farkle: I want my friend.

Maya takes this all in, before softening a bit. After a moment she sighs, running a hand through her hair and trying to gauge the situation.

Maya: You really mean all that?

Farkle: Yes.

Maya: You done with all of the bullshit? All of the stupid –

Farkle, without hesitation: Yes. Yes.

It’s so difficult to figure out what’s real with him. Whether or not he’s telling the truth. But somehow, Maya wants it to be true.

Maya: You really mean just as talented?

Farkle: [ with an eager nod ] Maybe more.

The statement is sincere. And this, it seems, is the ticket to earning back her approval. She gives him a hesitant smile, nodding as well and letting her gaze drift back to the street. They continue to sit in the cool May twilight, the winds of change kicking up a breeze around them.

This friendship may just stay afloat yet…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

The last couple days of sophomore year seem to promise an unusually little amount of chaos compared to the usual tenor of AAA. Farkle is at his locker on his phone, and we can see that he has messaged the AAAC multiple times over the weekend requesting that his submission be deleted and forgotten about.

The page hasn’t responded, so it seems like a moot point. For what it’s worth, the AAAC seems to have finally given up.

Farkle accepts this, closing his locker. Glancing down the hallway, wondering what an entirely new year is going to bring.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

On the bulletin board outside the black box, Zay has been announced as the summer program recipient. The assembled classmates congratulate him, including a genuinely complimentary Maya and a very enthusiastic Riley. Charlie gives him a pat on the back, and they exchange a soft look – suddenly a lot more meaningful between them than before.

During this celebration, however, they all get notifications on their phones from Instagram.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Farkle gets it as well, still in a different part of the school. It informs him that AAA Confessions posted a new video, followed by one more message specifically meant for him.

“Too late. Self-destruct sequence initiated. Happy summer, Farkle Minkus.”

Consumed with dread, Farkle stops frozen in the hall and opens his phone. As he jumps to the app, his hands are shaking so badly he nearly drops the device. When he goes to check the page, all of the color drains from his face.

It’s worse than he expected. Not only is the content of his video posted, it’s him saying it. AAAC simply posted the video in its entirety, only having adding a caption explaining that the post is their swan song confession – and they’ve exposed everyone who ever posted on the account.

As Farkle’s voice on video begins to rattle throughout the school halls, he takes off at a mad dash down the hallway –

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “The World Was Wide Enough” as performed by Hamilton Original Broadway Cast || Instrumental (up to 4:00) - Performed by Farkle Minkus (4:00 onward)

INT. AAA - HALLWAYS - DAY

It’s chaos as everyone tunes into the video and sees the AAAC’s final post. Their final message is true to their word – scrolling down on the page, they’ve added a “signature” to every single original caption revealing who submitted it in the first place. All that power of anonymity, gone in an instant.

Friends are confronting friends about items posted. People are tuning in to Farkle’s video, in total awe and horror of the mere existence of it. Each piece of it is repeated in snippets as it passes through the halls, accenting the instrumentation of “The World Was Wide Enough.”

As Zay reads the caption on the post, he turns to look for Charlie. But Charlie is gone, having disappeared the moment it became clear exactly what was going on.

Charlie himself is hiding in a nook of a hallway closer to the atrium, looking like he’s going to be sick. As he frantically scrolls through the page, we discover what it is that has him so flustered – all of the posts about him and Riley were submitted by him. All that effort put into using it to keep suspicion off of him, and now he suddenly looks more curious than ever.

Panicked, Charlie jogs towards the front entrance and pushes through the doors. Taking off at a run without looking back.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The techies are huddled in their usual back section sans Isadora and Lucas, watching Farkle’s video with a distinct mix of horror and fascination. JADE BEAMON is hiding behind her hands, she can’t bear to watch it for too long. DAVE WILLIAMS can’t look away, jaw hanging open.

Lucas enters from the audience doors, noticing the tension in the congregation and asking them what’s going on. DYLAN ORLANDO and ASHER GARCIA immediately attempt to stifle the sound and hide the phone, assuring him that it’s nothing. But naturally, this adamant denial doesn’t sell convincingly on either of them.

He can tell something is seriously up. He repeats the question, approaching the group and coming to stand in front of them again. Dave tries to claim ignorance as well but Lucas is faster than them, reaching over and snatching Dylan’s phone from his hands before he can protest.

Lucas tunes into the video just as Farkle is wrapping up his section on him, transitioning to Isadora. Asher tries to tell him he’s stupid and he should forget about it, but Lucas isn’t listening to him anymore.

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

Asher and Dylan are watching him like a hawk, not sure what to say. All of them are watching him with evident worry, and that just makes everything worse.

Farkle: … I guess it makes sense that she deserves one shot to prove she actually can live up to the family business without having to do any work for it. Sucks that it’s so late notice her best friend won’t even be there, as he’ll be too busy on his pity date with Riley. How tragic.

Stone-faced, Lucas drops the phone to the ground and marches from the auditorium. Dylan calls after him as Asher scrambles to pick up the phone off the ground. Dave starts to go after him in concern but Jade pulls him back.

INT. AAA - HALLWAYS - DAY

Farkle continues his desperate sprint through the halls, frantically trying to get to the black box to do damage control before everything unravels. He arrives and barrels through the doorway just as the gun shot in the instrumental goes off, kicking off the empty, tense backing of Hamilton’s free verse.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

The moment Farkle appears in the doorway, a dozen heads snap to look at him at once. Most of the sophomore class is assembled, nearly all of the performers except Charlie and including Isadora. They’re all staring at him, a myriad of unpleasant emotions on their faces.

Considering the fact that all of them are also on blast because of what the page did to the captions, Farkle is truly stepping into the full brunt of everyone’s betrayal and anger.

Maya breaks first, questioning how the hell he could do something like this. He really did blow up everything – including reveal her scholarship status to the whole school. Her eyes are glossy as she scrutinizes him, but the rage is enough of a deterrent to hold back any tears.

Farkle isn’t so lucky. He’s already choking up as he tries to defend himself, stammering through his words. He tries to point out that it wasn’t him who posted it, and he frantically tries to explain that he basically begged to have it deleted. He never wanted it to be shared. He didn’t mean it.

Maya: But you sent it. You said it!

The vitriol escalates pretty quickly from there, Zay pointing out how pathetic the whole thing is. Riley questions why he would put other people’s interpersonal relationships on blast, to which Isadora follows up that it’s obviously because he can’t imagine what having actual friendships must be like. Guess if he can’t have them, then no one can.

Farkle takes hit after hit, being the straw man in a scenario that has no good ending. But the whole thing gets far worse when Lucas storms into the room, asking if it’s true.

It’s like all of the air gets sucked out of the room. The performers turn to Lucas warily, wondering the hell he’s going to do. He repeats the question, voice quiet and sharp – which is honestly scarier than if he were shouting. Farkle swallows, certain he’s not going to live to see tomorrow.

But Lucas doesn’t focus on him. He zeroes in on Riley instead, locking eyes with her and looking at her for a long moment before asking about what he actually cares about. When he speaks, it’s barely above a murmur.

Lucas, mockingly: … pity date?

Riley: [ stunned ] No. No, Lucas, I didn’t – I never –

But it’s too late. It’s like Wyatt said – words are toothpaste, and they’re not going back in the tube. The sentiments have left their mark, for everyone involved.

Lucas huffs out a laugh, but it’s not a humorous one. Then he launches into a tirade about how he should’ve known better, they should’ve seen this coming. That, of course, the performers would default to this kind of petty and sadistic behavior, because that’s all they ever do. It’s been that way forever, and nothing is going to change it clearly. It’s a pretty staggering deconstruction, and he bookends it by stating he hopes they’re all really pleased with themselves. Really damn pleased.

Lucas focuses back on Farkle, voice dropping back down to a wavering murmur.

Lucas: [ letting out a scoff of a laugh ] … fuck you.

[ Farkle can’t look at him. He keeps his gaze trained on the wall, a couple of tears slipping down his cheeks. Lucas shakes his head, backing up. ]

Lucas: Fuck… [ raising his voice ] FUCK all of you!

Lucas storms out, pushing WYATT LIVINGSTON out of his way as he shoves past him to escape. Isadora shoots a murderous glare at all of them before chasing after him. CLARISSA CRUZ hides her head behind HALEY FISHER’S back, both of them crying. A tear escapes Riley, but she’s so shell-shocked she doesn’t even think to wipe it away.

The sophomore class starts to file out, trying to escape the unbearable tension they all had a hand in creating. They file out one by one in varying states of shock until it’s down to Farkle and Zay, the latter stopping in front of him as he makes his way out.

Zay: Was it worth it? Is it finally enough?

He scoffs, shaking his head in disgust as he leaves Farkle alone. Farkle stands there in the center of the classroom alone, completely frozen.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Isadora catches up to Lucas in the technician’s booth, intending to confront him about the commentaries leveled against him – particularly that he totally just blew her off to go on some date with Riley without bothering to clue her in. Because that’s not so hot either, and she was counting on him to be there. She needed him to be there, and he wasn’t. She expresses how idiotic she felt and demands to know what the hell he was thinking.

Lucas claims he doesn’t want to talk about it right now, obviously on the verge of a major emotional hurricane. Anyone else would be cautious to be near him with such a chaotic potential in the air – and understandably so – but Isadora knows him better than that. She’s not scared of him, and at the moment she’s pissed. So she won’t let it drop, pushing and pushing until he finally cracks.

He yells at her, begging her to shut up. He can’t deal with it right now, so would she just let it drop? She winces, shocked enough by the outburst to stop the badgering. Lucas blinks at her, turning away and collapsing back against the electrical cabinet. He slides down to the floor, all of the anger gone in an instant and just left with… everything else.

He covers his face with his hands, letting out a shaky “fuck” and pulling up his knees in front of him. Isadora hesitates by the lighting board, realizing now isn’t the time for the confrontation. They’ll have that conversation later, she knows that they will. For now, she thinks he needs her to be present in a different way – even if he wasn’t there for her the way she expected he’d be.

Tentatively, she approaches him and sits down against the cabinet next to him. She cautiously puts an arm around his shoulders to comfort him – a big move, coming from Isadora – and that moment of vulnerability is what shatters the flood gates.

Lucas leans into her embrace, breaking down in tears as the sting of everything falling apart finally starts to sink in. When he said that when he cared about something, we would know… well. That’s more evident than ever before.

Isadora holds him and allows him to melt down, lightly propping her chin on his head. Her expression is grim, holding it together so that at least one of them remains stalwart.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Farkle takes over the vocalization of “The World Was Wide Enough,” tuning in on “Now I’m the villain in your history…” He’s walking along the edge of the stage on his own, balance precarious. Like he could fall at any second, but at that point he doesn’t care anymore.

His eyes are glossy but the tears are done. He’s blank-faced, trying to comprehend the fact that his world just turned upside down, and the truth of it is? It was all his fault.

I was too young and blind to see, I should’ve known. I should’ve known the world was wide enough for all of them and me.

Close on Farkle’s teary eyes, before a slow fade to black. Then, the sounds of a bustling airport float in as we transition to a new location…

INT. AIRPORT - DAY

Close on a smartphone, open to the AAAC but from the moderator side rather than follower as we’re accustomed to seeing it. A thumb navigates to settings, going to the delete button. When Instagram prompts if the user is sure about deleting the account, they hesitate.

Easing out, it is finally revealed who the true operator of the AAAC was – Chai Fresco. In spite of her successfully evading getting caught, she doesn’t look thrilled with all of the chaos that unfolded in its wake.

As her boarding section is called for her flight to Europe, she acts quickly and confirms the delete. Poof! It’s as if the page was never there… even if all the damage it caused still remains.

Chai grabs her things, heading towards the flight that will take her away from all of the aftermath. Not looking back.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Empty hallways. Quiet building. Summer has begun, and the impending confrontations are put on hold for a few weeks. The hallways feel eerie, not populated with students and dancing and music as they should be…

Eric: What the hell happens next?

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Eric is seated behind his desk, Jack in the usual student occupied chair across from him. They’re both stunned speechless, still attempting to wrap their minds around what the hell unfolded in the last three days of classes. Eric confirms that the confessions page has been terminated for good, so at least there’s that.

Jack: Mister Livingston was right.

Eric frowns, prompting Jack to continue. It’s clear that this has taken a toll on Jack. He doesn’t look all that well, and his voice is ragged as he tries to compose his thoughts. He laments that Wyatt was correct about him – he is incompetent, and he couldn’t stop this from imploding in on itself. More than that, he’s the failure. He failed their students, from beginning to end.

Eric tries to refute this notion, but Jack isn’t willing to hear it. And in some ways, they did fail, there’s no sugarcoating that. They tried to protect their students, and it didn’t work. Everyone got hurt, somehow.

Most pointedly, Jack continues, Wyatt was right when he said there is a serious culture problem at AAA. Too much competition, too cutthroat. They have to change it, and it���s going to take both of them working together to fix it from the ground up.

Jack looks to Eric, a far cry from the resolute and polished principal we met at the beginning of the season. He lets out an exhale, locking eyes with his most stubborn yet most impassioned faculty member.

Jack: Will you help me?

Eric holds his gaze, obviously contemplating. Then he holds out his hand, waiting for Jack to shake on it. If they’re going to rebuild, then it’s going to take both of them indeed.

Jack hesitates, then links his hand with his.

END OF SEASON.

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

And In This Light I Think I'm Falling

A/N: This is my first fic in a while so the style is a bit different than my usual--but I found it in my drafts and wanted to finish it while I’m still working on larger stories. Written in response to this prompt from before we conquered the ship name! 

Why does everyone assume they're together? Penelope can't stop thinking about it and feelings ensue. 

Penelope x Schneider, One Day At A Time. Also on AO3.

He catches her when she trips walking past the couch, one hand at her side and the other gripping her hip until she steadies herself. The feel of it lingers longer than she wishes it would.

The next night, after a terrible first date, it’s that moment she finds herself thinking of: Schneider's fingertips digging casually into her skin. How warm his hands are, his broad palms.

Loneliness is a terrible reason to ruin a friendship, she tells herself firmly.

Victor is just the first time.

It’s hilarious, her husband looking at that man–even if Schneider does walk in shirtless without knocking, even if he does that sort of thing a lot now–and thinking he’s her type.

After spending so many years with her, the fact that Victor can see them side by side and decide that they make sense…well, it’s just more proof that her marriage is a lost cause.

But the more it keeps happening, the less funny it is.

****

It’s the mom of Alex’s new teammate, who is behind them in the stands during the first home game and asks what Schneider does for a living while her own husband is getting snacks.

Penelope and Schneider’s corrections are so hasty they overlap into gibberish, impossible to understand, before she’s elbowing him and starting over with less panic.

It’s not like it doesn’t make sense, of course. It’s a simple mistake.

One that seems to occur every baseball season.

****

It’s the waiter at the restaurant they go to for her Mami’s birthday, when Schneider sweet talks Lydia into it in spite of Penelope’s insistence that they can just have the usual fun family party.

Really it’s no different from being at home. They’re still loud and happy, Elena and Alex sneaking glances at their phones even after she scolds them, and Lydia flirting until the chef sends dessert out on the house. Penelope can’t help basking in how warm and settled it all feels–this isn’t the future she saw herself having, but it’s a pretty good one and she’s happy in it.

Schneider goes to the bathroom and the waiter comes by to hand her the check, says he hopes the evening went well and that she and her husband will stop in on their next date night. He’s gone again before she can find the words to correct him, some way to make the truth clear without frantically overreacting and turning that into the issue instead.

Does it really matter, she wonders, when the kids and her Mami are sitting right there and don’t even notice the man’s mistake? They all know it’s not true. That’s what counts.

****

It’s at Elena’s high school graduation, because of course Schneider is there taking endless pictures and would've brought a professional film crew if she hadn’t threatened him with violence. Of course he cheers almost as loud as her Cuban family and cries the most and hands Elena a gift he wrapped himself.

Now it’s not one person, it’s most of the people, who weren't close with Elena and don’t know Victor is overseas and make the assumption that the man with the proud grin and matching glasses is the father of the girl Penelope is preparing to send into the adult world.

It’s reasonable, she thinks, and so she talks around the subject, she slides past the titles and assumptions and tries not to think too much about how it feels.

Because it makes her more melancholy than she wants to admit, the way the world expects them to be a couple, expects her to have someone at her side who loves her kids and supports her without question.

Schneider being so easily mistaken for that guy hurts. It reminds her of what she’s still trying to find.

****

It’s the way the kitchen light hits him early in the morning, catching hints of green and grey in his blue eyes when he takes off his glasses to rub at them. Waiting for his coffee and blinking, he notices her gaze.

Schneider asks if she’s okay, gratefully taking the mug after he puts his glasses back on.

As soon as he speaks it’s like a spell is broken and time moves normally again. Alex is complaining about his school clothes and Elena is arguing with her Abuelita about summer break and Schneider is the guy who hangs around too much.

But for a minute he wasn’t. For a minute he was somebody else.

Somebody she couldn’t stop looking at and wondering, what did other people keep finding there? What about the two of them seemed like such a good fit?

So without her ever really meaning to, one morning Schneider is a man Penelope sees differently.

And she likes what she sees, that’s the worst part of all.

She likes it a lot.

****

It’s the way he’s not pushy, he lets her come to him, but he’s also totally open. Inviting her in for a hug without needing to say it, always being a safe place for her to run to. His body language has its own gravitational pull.

Really, so does he.

But it’s also the way he always reaches out to her, and when Schneider does reach out, he doesn’t hesitate.

His hand is at the small of her back when they leave a room together, a friendly gesture he doesn’t even seem to notice. He grabs her shoulders to maneuver her into sitting, a move that never fails to work because it stuns her into complying.

She was in the Army, she knows fifty ways to leave him gasping for air, but Schneider will lead her around gently and firmly and wordlessly as though it doesn’t occur to him to be afraid of her reflexes.

He catches her when she trips walking past the couch, one hand at her side and the other gripping her hip until she steadies herself. The feel of it lingers longer than she wishes it would.

The next night, after a terrible first date, it’s that moment she finds herself thinking of: Schneider's fingertips digging casually into her skin. How warm his hands are, his broad palms.

Loneliness is a terrible reason to ruin a friendship, she tells herself firmly.

Even if now he insists on showing up in her dreams.

****

It happens on a stifling August day, when the kids have fled to a temperature-controlled movie theater with their allowance and she opts to do the same for free.

Pretty close, anyway, because if she’s hanging out with Schneider at his place and she hints, he’ll leave the AC on all day without complaint.

She’s there for the free cool-down and the company, and whatever plans he might have had, Schneider seems happy to see her.

He always seems happy to see her. These days, Penelope can’t tell if that’s because he’s just such a happy person or if it’s about her.

She hopes it’s her.

They put a movie on and he offers to fix lunch. For a minute she can’t breathe, she’s laughing so hard.

The man cooks such terrible food, it hadn't occurred to her to take his offer seriously--but she didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. Sometimes she forgets he has any that are easily bruised. Because the pained look on Schneider’s face is sincere, she hurries to apologize.

Shifting closer on the couch, Penelope hugs him and promises that if he makes her food, she’ll eat it. She presses her lips to both his cheeks in big, exaggerated kisses to get him to smile again.

When that works and there’s only an inch between them, Schneider beaming at her so sweetly that it makes Penelope ache, she realizes she can’t take it anymore.

She kisses him again, this time leaning in to brush his mouth with hers, as slowly and carefully as if he might break. His smile is gone.

Penelope can see questions in his eyes, but Schneider doesn’t ask them. He frames her face with his hands and kisses her back.

She has questions too, because giving in to temptation didn’t mean expecting him to respond. She’s had time to develop feelings, deny them, and finally choose to acknowledge the insanity of them and hope they would go away.

Not once in all that time did she stop and think maybe Schneider had feelings for her too.

She’s pretty sure she has confirmation now, though, with him sinking deeper into the kiss and his hands tracing up the curve of her neck. Penelope's been wearing her hair up off her shoulders to beat the heat all day, but he's freeing it to run his fingers through.

With his hands buried in her curls, Schneider tugs her closer. Before she gets the chance to tell him her hair was up for a reason, his tongue finds hers and she lets him swallow her protest.

He’s being careful--she can tell he’s holding back just like her, still trying to figure out what this is and how far they can push the line before they cross it and something really important gets damaged.

But they’re making out in his chilled apartment, the air between them getting hotter by the second, and he’s practically got her pressed back into the couch and damn it feels good. All her rational arguments can’t stand up to the feel of him, a solid and comfortable weight on top of her.

Schneider smells like a forest, but not in a gross way–like an actual forest, rich and earthy and male. She’s never going to be able to stand near him again without noticing that and remembering them here, Penelope realizes.

With his mouth moving to her neck, he asks permission before he slides one hand under her tank top, and she holds back an eyeroll. Only Schneider would still be checking in while she was straddling him and her teeth were grazing his ear.

Of course, that's what she likes about him. However much he's enjoying himself--and she's got a front row seat, he's enjoying himself a lot--he would never want anything to happen between them that she might regret later.

God, that would almost simplify things, being able to consider today some form of temporary insanity. As she tugs Schneider's t-shirt over his head, Penelope wishes she could say she was going to regret this.

But she doesn’t think she will.

[calistapledger]

When Will My Life Begin

[A/N: I owe this to my Breakfast Club aka Calystair's No. 1 Fanclub. I had to tie up some loose ends so feel free to skip the parts with her family and go straight to Calystair which is near the end. Enjoy ladies!] I'm an idiot. Why did I walk away from the best thing that's ever happened to me? Now 5 hours later, I was back home, back to square one. My Father blatantly ignored me, Mother tried to smother me (that's new) and my brothers didn't know how to react. Except for Boreas who took any ample opportunity to be extra smug about my early elimination. I locked myself in my room before the news of my homecoming reached Uncle Ro. He was one person I couldn't bear to disappoint. He came over the next day and I shut him out. I stayed in a toxic routine of never leaving my room unless I had to go get food and I had planned to live the rest of my life that way. Unfortunately life doesn't work that way. My routine was disrupted by a phone call from Debbie. I'm surprised she called, I imagined my friends would be too mad at me and my outburst to write and call for a while. She updated me on what has been happening since I left and told me about their next task. The Selected were visiting a local hospital and they were asked to write a children’s story to read to the kids there. I sighed disappointed, I would have absolutely loved to have done that. Life can be unfair in that manner. She gave me the premise of her story and it was lovely about stars and brought in a unique concept. She asked if I could be kind enough to make light up bracelets with stars. She told me she had sent me a rough sketch of what she wanted a while ago so I should have received it by now. I went to check the mail and sure enough it was there after Zephy helped me sift through it. She was thoughtful enough to indent the sketch so I flipped it over and felt how it was supposed to be built. It was a simple enough design and I could easily have it manufactured. I got to work quick enough and finally let Uncle Ro in. I was going to need all the help I could get if I was going to have 25 bracelets sent to her in a week. It was going to be tedious but not impossible. *** I smiled as I haphazardly pasted my note onto Deb’s package. I just hoped it reached her on time. I contemplated going back to Angeles myself to deliver it myself but decided against it when I realised Dom might have me thrown out and Aly would be too mad to pull strings for me. Besides I promised myself that I would sort out all my problems here in Bonita before I proceeded with my fresh start. Hopefully that fresh start would include Alystair and attending Angeles University in the near future. I carefully located my bed and slumped against the headrest. What do I do now? I thought doing this for Debbie would jumpstart my passion for creating. I just felt empty again. I was lost without my friends. It was like having a taste of everything you could have ever wanted - a social life and being happy in my case - and to have it taken away from me, really hurt. Feeling homesick for my friends, I dialled up Aricia’s personal number. I didn't want us left on bad terms and I missed her so much. Thankfully she picked up. I apologised for my behaviour and we just talked about our usual mindless topics until she opened up about what was bugging her on my last day. I didn't realise how many of my friends had Mommy Issues. I made a mental note to hug my mother after this call. She updated me on her life, apparently Vad and her had a Disney movie night the previous night and I couldn't help but feel a stab of jealousy. Vad was nice but I knew girls like her. They always got what they wanted without trying. After our catch up session, I hung up and hit my head. I felt so angry for having to lose so much during this Selection. When I first came to the Palace I had nothing to lose yet within the month I was there, I gained so much. My maids, they were probably assigned somewhere else, my friends seemed to have replaced me quickly enough and Al- I couldn't even think his name out loud. Maybe I'll just live off my inheritance. Who needs to be independant anyway, right? As soon as I thought that I wanted to slap myself. That's exactly what I would be doing if I had stayed and became Queen. Always in the shadow of Dominic. That's not a life I want. I've been telling myself I needed to sort my problems here and yet I haven't even tried. First thing’s first, I needed a shower. There was something about being clean that makes you feel even motivated to get things done. I come out feeling fresher than I've done in days. I rummaged through my mail for a while before I found it. My acceptance letter to Angeles Uni, it had come in the mail a few days ago. Aly - it hurt to think of him but none of this would have happened if not for him - had encouraged me to send in an application while I was in the Selection as a backup plan. I finally exit my room before a mealtime. It was Saturday so everyone was home, even Uncle Ro. “FAMILY MEETING IN THE LIVING ROOM!” I yelled out loud, it was the most efficient way to get everyone in the living room. I heard doors open left and right from me and the boys skidding out to the corridor. I should have moved out of the way but being the idiot I was, I just stood there as Eurus and Zephy crashed into me. They helped me up and the three of us made our way to the living room. Uncle Ro, Boreas and Nots were already there with our parents. I was able to identify them all by their scents. Mother and Father were seated in the middle, the former smelling of the jasmine in her hair while her husband always smelled of hospitals. Uncle Ro smelled of his usual greasey-antiseptic scent from working on new inventions in his lab, Boreas had a douchey cologne on, Nots always had the distinct smell of pine trees. E smelled like my shampoo because he stole it from time to time and Zephy smelled like rain I don't even know how since it doesn't rain much in Bonita. I stood in front of them; I didn't want to focus on my parents so instead I looked to where Uncle Ro’s scent was the strongest. He always had my back. “I'm leaving to study Engineering at Angeles University. Before I go I want to clear the air. Father, I'm sorry I disappointed you. I may not have a crown on my head but I intend to have a degree in my hand in four years time. Also no one calls their dad Father anymore unless they are stiffs so I'm going to call you Dad from now.” “Oh god you've lost it.” I heard Boreas mumble. I turned to his voice and glared. “Take that stick out of your ass, Boreas. I am so sick of the dick you've become since you came back from your draft. We all miss the old you. Maybe Dad likes you but does that matter if you siblings loathe you? Being a Two doesn't make you better than us. You are still a Ledger, act like it.” I had been waiting for too long to tell him off. “Mom, I finally understand that you weren't being distant. You wanted to give me my space. It worked too well but I forgive you. I hope the province space gives us an opportunity to start over. Uncle Ro...a girl couldn't have asked for a better uncle. You've been my pillar of support for so long and I'm so sorry for freezing you out ever since I came back. I'm better now and I intend to do something with my life. I can only hope you support me in this decision as you've done everything else.” My favourite Uncle started to tear up and his sniffles made it evident. I pulled him into a tight hug. He whispered as to how proud he was of me and he would support me in anything. After that love fest, I turned to my younger brothers. “Boys, I don't have anything to say to you because you know everything you need to know. I love you and am going to miss so much while I'm studying so please do come visit. I could come back here during the holidays if Dad will have me.” I pulled Nots, Eurus and Zephy into a tight hug. I wasn't going to wait for a response from my Dad or Boreas. I had my bags waiting for me in my room but before I could retrieve them, Dad stopped me. “Betee, I am proud of you. I couldn't have chosen this path for you, you did it yourself and that merits my pride. Although I think at this point you don't intend to impress anyone but yourself.” Without thinking, I blurt out, “Damn right I'm only going impress myself.” I clear my throat and rephrase, “I mean thanks Dad. I'll visit during the holidays if you'll have me.” “Of course! Who am I to deny my only daughter?” He chuckled and sent me on my way. As I was double checking that all my things were in order and packed up, there was a knock on the door. I froze, catching a whiff of Boreas’ cologne. Was he here to whine that Dad was being bias? I turned to my eldest brother. “Yes, Boreas?” “No Bore Ass? That's an improvement.” He chuckled. I wasn't even sure he was capable of laughing. I can't even remember the last time he laughed. “You wanted something, Brother?” I kept my distance. Just because he was feeling up to joking doesn't erase his prior shitty behaviour. “I wanted to apologise. I have been horrible. I thought the only thing that mattered was getting Appa’s approval.” I suppressed a giggle, only Boreas still called Dad by the Tamil endearment for Father. “I didn't think how it would affect you and the boys. I'll also admit I was jealous of the attention all of you get without even trying. That doesn't excuse the way I treated all of you so I sincerely apologize again. I'm sorry and I will be a better brother from now on.” Just as he finished his mini monologue, we heard slow claps coming from behind him. “That was quite the speech, Brother dearest.” Eurus teased him. Our eldest brother playfully groaned before grabbing E into a headlock and ruffling his hair. The boys continued their roughhousing as I finished checking my bags. After I was done, they broke it up momentarily to drag me into a classic Ledger siblings hug. I was going to miss these idiots so much. I told them all to keep in touch and hugged them individually. I saved Boreas for last. “I'm glad to have my brother back. I accept your apology and I forgive you. Call and visit as often as you can.” I kissed his cheek and they sent me off. I was on the next plane to Angeles. *** I finally made it. I sorted my shit out and now here I was ready to work it out with Aly. I knocked on his door apprehensively. Within seconds I heard footsteps coming towards the front door and the hinges creaking as the door flung open. Aly's usual figure didn't tower over me. I was faced with a blurry silhouette who seemed to be my height. "Oh sorry. I must have gotten the wrong house. Would you happen to know where Alystair Costas lives?" "He lives here, who might you be?" She sounded suspicious of me. Understandably so I introduced myself to her as his friend. I wasn't sure who this lady was so I kept my relationship with him on the down low. "If I'm allowed to ask; what's your relation to Alystair?" I steeled myself for the answer. Maybe she was his sister...surely he wouldn't have moved on so quickly? "I'm his wife." What. The. Fuck. “Alice, who's at the door?” My throat closed up when I heard his voice. I wanted to run away but my legs won't budge. “Come see for yourself.” She called out to him. I swear she sounded smug and even though I couldn't make out her features, I was sure her expression matched her tone. His heavy steps came closer and closer. Run! I screamed to myself but I still couldn't move. A part of me wanted to see him again before I leave for good. His blonde blurry mess of hair was unmistakable. I caught the sound of his breath hitching. “Cal...what are you doing here?” He made a move to hug me and I shoved him away. “A wife? What the hell, Alystair!” “Huh?” He was caught off guard and I'm sure his cute eyebrows were furrowed to match his confusion. We were both interrupted by shrill laughter. We turned to the owner - Alice. In between her fits of laughter, she explained the situation. I burned red with embarrassment. I should have noticed how they both had similar blonde hair and English accents. It doesn't necessarily dictate that they're siblings but I should have known better. Alystair was an honourable man. I wouldn't have fallen for him otherwise. “I just wanted you to suffer a little bit for breaking Al’s heart.” She explained. Aly simply pushed her towards to the door. “You've stirred up enough trouble for one day, Alice. I would like a private word with Cal if you don't mind.” “I do mind, little brother.” “It wasn't a request, Alice.” She mimicked his stern tone but went back in reluctantly, slamming the door in the process. The first thing he did was clasp our hands together. I really missed his touch. Before I was sucked in, I pulled out my acceptance letter. “I want to make it abundantly clear that while I do have strong feelings for you, that's not going to dictate my life. I want to make something for myself before I settle down. I want to be more than a Selected from Dom’s Selection or Captain Costas’ girlfriend. I'm going to be Calista Ledger, innovating inventor. The world will know my name.” He pulled me closer so that I could see his proud grin to the best of my ability. “I would be honoured to be Calista Ledger’s boyfriend.” That made me blush like a schoolgirl. He always knew the right thing to say to get a reaction out of me. To distract both of us from the mushy moment, I pass him the acceptance letter. “I made it into Illéa College!” He lifted me up in one swift and spun me around. I giggled before begging him to put me down. “This calls for a celebration. Alice and I made Bolognese, would you like to stay for dinner?” I interlaced our fingers together before smiling up at him. “I would love to. I'm not going anywhere for a long time.” We went back into the house, hand in hand. Everything was finally falling into place.

[laurabelle2930]

Every Life has a Moment ~ Olicity Fic

So this was written out of pure enjoyment. I have a prompt I need to finish but I’ve just been blocked. This I wrote for me and because I want to feel inspired to continuing writing. Thank you for everyone’s endless support I appreciate it more than I can possibly convey! 

P.S. I will be adding an additional chapter... If you want me too...

Every Life has a Moment

Every life has a moment... No everyone’s life has a key moment? Or should it be every person will experience a key moment?” 

Felicity dragged the graphite tip along the crinkled mass of paper beneath her tapping fingers then hovered over the illusive first line. She cocked her confused head while the curled brown tendrils fell freely over her bare left shoulder. The camisole strap slipped down the angled slope of her scapula when she moved the pencil back down to the second paragraph. “No...” she muttered lightly between clenched teeth, “It should stay here but then I would lose this line and then the bottom half won’t make any sense!” 

The indent in her furrowed brow grew as she sighed, “I’m never going to get this right...” 

The chuckle from the headboard of her cramped on leg room bed made her nearly snap the pencil in two. “No you’re never going to get to the point where you feel its perfect is what you should be muttering.” 

Felicity ran her nervous fingers through her maddening hair while growling, “This coming from the professional slacker...”  

Her best friend smirked, “I’m not the one who’s going to be bald by morning now am I?” 

Felicity’s fingers froze near the nape of her neck; she tapped along the taut skin before sighing in defeat, “Why can’t you just come with me? You know be my moral support while a crowd of eager minds laps up every stupid word I can hopefully deliver?” 

Those devious blue eyes slanted into two nearly invisible silts. The small worry lines near those fairly perfect lashes fluttered easily over the sharp contours of her favorite slacker’s cheek bones. Felicity crossed her legs at the ankles then flashed her sometimes roommate a dazzling grin. Her counterpart in turn huffed, “Felicity I’m not going to sit in a crowd filled with well wishers while you stand on a stage and nervously sweat.” 

She nodded briefly before her chin fell squarely to her small chest. “You’d do it for Thea....” she mumbled contritely. 

 “She’s also my baby sister!” Oliver groaned exhaustedly.  

“Yeah but you’re my best friend!” Felicity blurted out within moments of his last words. 

He grumbled as the mattress beneath his solid body groaned. “What time is the damn ceremony again?” 

Felicity glanced up slowly with a small grin, “At noon,” she instantly supplied while she rolled the pencil between her thumb and index finger. 

She caught the sparkle of surrender in those endless blue depths. “I must really love you,” he commented lowly so only dogs could hear his garbled reply. 

Her eyes radiated with eternal warmth, “I love you too slacker,” she mused while she tapped the pencil’s tip along the elusive first paragraph. 

Oliver let himself slip until his head was positioned over her rumbled pillow. She shot him a small glance when he breathed, “They’ll be in the crowd tomorrow...” 

She nodded involuntarily while giving her distracted reply, “I know they sent me the flowers you see on my bedside table.” 

She saw him glance at the arrangement of red roses and glare mournfully. “You’d think you were their child instead of me,” he sighed deeply with a tinge of resentment. 

Felicity shrugged off the minced words and dropped the pencil on the desk. She shifted on the small back stool until her palms were over her bent knees. She saw his eyes scan over her slumped form with regret, “You know I didn’t mean anything by that right?” he asked somberly. 

She gave him the required slow nod of empathy before she rubbed her palms over the soft, black fabric of her faded sweatpants. “Still if my parent’s hadn’t died when I was five you and I may never have met so I can’t feel the same way,” she croaked like the worn grooves of an old record.

His eyes shot to the ceiling as his fingers met over his toned stomach. She watched him carefully as he slowly digested her words. His chiseled jaw moved slightly while he slowly began to grind his otherwise perfect back molars. His furrowed brow hid the beauty of his eyes while his full lips were pursed into a nearly invisible line. His long legs were crossed at the ankles while the bare heels of his feet rested just over the bed’s edge. She watched the small, rhythmic movements of his chest and stomach while he searched for the right words. 

“They love you Oliver,” she commented quietly as he continued to stare somberly at her popcorn ceiling.

His eyes shot forward landing on her hooded stare as his lips formed a timid smile, “I’m hoping they aren’t the only ones,” he chided with mild humor. 

Felicity grabbed an older draft of her commencement speech and threw the crumbled ball at his head. He let the paper bullet hit his forehead as he smiled proudly. “Seriously?” he teased. 

She rolled her eyes then replied, “You’re avoiding your feelings again.” 

“Maybe, but flirting with you is just so tempting...” he deflected as Felicity slowly rose. She watched his body shudder in amusement so she decided to test the waters. Felicity first shook her hips playfully. Oliver wagged his brows then hiccupped, “Haha very funny Felicity…” while she did a semi-turn before his bemused form.  His laugher made her bold but, her heart was bursting within her ribcage. His eyes widened a bit as she slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of her sweats. She bit at her lower lip then batted her long lashes. He seemed shocked but still his intrigued body responded when he inched himself upward until his shoulders were scrunched up next to his ears. His fingers were by his torso as he used the points of his elbows to balance his weight. He gulped nervously, “Ummm Felicity?” 

Her lashes flashed as her surprised eyes rose. His blue eyes blazed with an emotion that she’d only seen once… She mumbled softly with a giggle lodged in her throat, “Yeah baby?” in a vain attempt to calm her growing nerves.  

His eyebrows shot up to his seemingly surprised hairline, “Felicity!” he yelped awkwardly. 

With her heart lodged in her drying throat she shot him an annoyed eye roll. His lips parted briefly before she decided to let him in on the game. She pulled at the elastic waistband until it snapped loudly over her hip bone, “You said you wanted to flirt...” she drooled in annoyance. “I’m simply responding in kind,” she mocked with false sincerity. 

Oliver’s lips fell into deep frown as he realized his mistake. “Right,” he sighed almost instantly. “You’re not my girlfriend of the week...” his apology made her head bob in silent agreement as she began to tap her feet nervously along the floor.  

Felicity pulled her fingers up to her elbows, “No I’m just someone who genuinely loves you,” she mumbled as she dragged her fingers over her upper arms. She let the air around them fill with unspoken words as she pondered if he truly knew just how deep her love for him went.  

He tilted his head noticing the faraway look in her eyes and beckoned softly, “Willing to share?” 

She saw him shift his hips to the left side as he spoke. She couldn’t help but smile at the double meaning lumbering forward until her knees were against his toes. “When your parents took me in they saved my life but it’s my relationship with you that saved my soul do you understand that? Do you understand how much I value what we have?” she asked while her tone demanded a simple yes or no. 

Oliver tapped at her knees with his wiggling toes. She smiled at the small gesture and bumped his big toe with her knee cap. His pushed his arms outward until he’d fallen completely backward. She bit the inside of her cheek once she noticed that his head was once again in line with the middle of her pillow. He pushed his palms down to his waist and tapped gently at the newly formed free space. “I’m sorry Felicity, I’m sorry that I was insensitive yet again,” he groaned as she crawled over the bed’s edge and toward the space by his chest. 

She patted at his bent knee before she placed her cheek over his softly beating heart; the soft fabric of his flannel shirt rubbed over her satin like skin as she gently cuddled into his side. With her fingers still wrapped around her forearms she curled her calves around his crossed lower legs. He in turn managed to snake his arm around her shoulders before he moved his fingers into the tendrils of her long, dark hair. She waited until his long, dexterous fingers were combing through her soft locks before she sighed, “I know they favor me over you and, I know it hurts but they’re just overcompensating and you know it.” 

She felt the low tenor of his hearty chuckle as it rumbled over her cheek, “They don’t do this to Thea...” 

“Well she was only a year old when they brought me home Oliver, you were seven and used to being the center of attention...” that comment made him chuckle loudly as he brought his free hand to rest over his belly button. 

“Yeah you were five and a pain in the ass...” 

Felicity nudged his chest with the tip of her nose, “Either way...they wanted me to feel loved and in the process we became best friends.” 

She felt him “hmmm” in agreement. 

“So you’ll really be in the front row?” she squeaked hopefully with her fluttering lashes catching over his flannel shirt. 

He grumbled, “Again I must really love you...” 

She rubbed her cheek up and down in affirmation, “I know you do...” Something in her tone felt forced but, she pushed the thought aside while she allowed herself to enjoy the stolen moment of perfect intimacy.

He moved his fingers up his stomach and over his sternum until the pads of his index and middle fingers were beneath the chin. She let him push her face away from his chest as he’d done many times before. He tilted his own chin so his chest moved beneath her skin. His soft kiss over the crown of her head made her heart swell warmly as he pushed her chin gently upward. She smiled warmly as he whispered, “Do you?” 

She pursued her usually babbling lips lightly the squeaked, “Yeah like an annoying little sister who....” 

Her lips froze when he slowly began to trail his index finger up over the tip of her chin and towards her o shaped lips. Her breath caught in her throat as he grazed his thumb over her bottom lip. She felt his fingers curling around the nape of her neck as she voluntarily titled her head even further. He lowered his chin then whispered, “You know it’s deeper than that…” 

Felicity gulped deeply, “Your trail of endless girlfriends would indicate otherwise my friend.”

“Perhaps I’m scared of rejection,” he snickered gently as his beautiful mouth fell into a dazzling half smile.

She felt her thumbs brushing over her goosebump covered skin. Her body was covered in frayed nerves while he held her closely. She gazed into the eyes that had seen her through her failed prom night. She smiled shyly when she remembered how he’d kissed her lips gently as she cried through the stolen moment. She remembered every second they’d shared as she quietly replied, “I think the chances of rejection would be quite low…”

He snickered nervously which made her giggle as he said, “And yet here I am holding you with a rattled heart…”

Felicity having recovered a bit of wit threw out a veiled question. “Then why the look of alarm when you thought I might be undressing before your very eyes?” The brush of his thumb pad over her moving lips sent lines of fire racing through her inexperienced core. Her calves tightened over his legs as her body sought for more than she’d ever dreamed he’d be willing to give.

He leaned in closer; she took an unsteady breath as their noses grazed. He swallowed a harsh gulp of air then replied, “Because I’ve never been with someone I’m in love with.” 

Felicity’s eyes widened in complete shock, “Excuse me what?” she gasped as he trailed his fingers down the slope of her extended throat.

He chuckled nervously as their lips hovered over the others. She could feel the heat of each rapid exhale over her moistened lips. Her stomach knotted in confusion as his lips danced dangerously close to hers. “So I’m guessing you’re a bit shocked?” he croaked lowly.

She swallowed a gnarled, “Yeah,” then hiccupped, “I just don’t understand…”

Their lips nearly met when he mumbled, “How I could love you or how I couldn’t seem to tell you?”

She hiccupped again nervously, “I’m going with both…”

Their lips grazed briefly when his roaming fingers began to caress the arch of her collarbone. “It was like a switch was flipped,” he rambled as his fingers grazed over the fallen strap of her camisole. “I was walking along minding my own business with my arms wrapped around some nameless girl when I realized I’d rather have my arms wrapped around you...” 

Felicity’s heart froze, “Was the nameless girl Tiffany,” she joked lamely as he laughed lowly. “I spend hours thinking about you Felicity.”

Her heart stopped cold. “I can recount everything you’ve ever told me from the time you were five. I can tell you when you stopped liking certain foods, I can pinpoint when your favorite color changed and, even when you first understood heartbreak.” His calm tone left her almost breathless as he continued. “I could trace the contours of your face until I was old and I’d still found something new to cherish and, while it scares me it also wakes me up.” Her lungs burned from lack of air and, still she couldn’t breathe. He mused almost wordlessly, “I knew I loved you when I looked forward to simply hearing your voice…”

She finally inhaled deeply before exhaling, “You’re serious aren’t you?”

Oliver pressed his forehead against hers, “Yes Felicity I am,” he murmured as their lips finally met. The kiss was soft, warm, tender and timid as they each accepted the newly announced facts. He nibbled along her bottom lip as she carefully tasted the contours of his full upper lip. She could detect salt, mint and maybe even vanilla as she traced along the inner line of his lip with her eager tongue. He too moved his tongue slowly along her own when she’d finished exploring the small area. She could feel the small bumps and ridges of his tongue as it brushed roughly along her own. She felt her grip weakening over her upper arms as her body began to surrender to the new sensations.

Felicity groaned deeply into the intense kiss as Oliver used the fingers at the nape of her neck to grab at a loose section of hair. She screamed lowly until the echoes of her voice vibrated through his expanding rib cage. He tugged at her hair darkly while his other hand began roaming freely beneath the thin fabric of her now barely there camisole. The fabric brushing along her trembling fingers caused her to react vocally.

She gasped “Oliver we can’t...” right before she managed to reach for his forearm. 

He growled against her swollen lips, “Why not?” 

She pressed her nails into his warm skin and nearly choked, “Because what if we break up!” 

His lips froze over her own. Their eyes met. His were filled with the storm of many raging emotions while hers were filled with love, longing and most importantly fear. She gulped sadly, “I won’t lie and say I don’t love you but I also won’t lie and say I’d be willing to risk us...” 

His heartaching smile made her regret saying anything at all, “You’re in love with me yes or no?”

She squared her jaw and felt his growing smile brushing against her parted lips. She slanted her eyes and growled deeply, “I’m more than in love with you Oliver but that is beside the point.”

He moved his thumb over her lower ribcage and pecked her bottom lip, “Oh no you don’t Felicity…I gave you my words I want yours too…”

“Want to do want to hear?” she grumbled as he traced along underside of her left breast.

Her body shuddered violently when he whispered along her panting mouth, “When did you fall in love with me?”

Her body was ready to explode when she panted, “Prom…”

His touch along her teeming skin paused. He pulled back slightly so their foreheads could touch. She managed to catch her breath before uttering, “I see that threw you a bit…”

He gulped, “That means….”

“Yeah,” she interrupted, “I’ve been in love with you for over four years.”

She felt the tip of his nose over hers as he inhaled deeply, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well I was 18 and you were 20…oh and I thought you were in love with Laurel,” she mumbled innocently.

She felt his forehead skirting along her blushing skin. The way his lips seemed to dance perfectly over hers made something inside her stomach dance. Her fingers ached to caress his scruffed jaw but she hesitated when he breathed, “I kissed you out of love that night not pity Felicity.”

She felt her knotted fingers moving along his sculpted forearm, while she used her other hand to carefully cup his whiskered cheek. He carefully rubbed his nose along hers when she whispered in a bit of remorse, “Did you ever love Laurel?”

He choked back a small indignant growl before issuing his own heartfelt confession, “I loved her like I was supposed to yes but if doesn’t compare to what I’ve always known I’d feel with you.”

Felicity groaned, “That night when my boyfriend broke my heart,”

He swallowed a gnarled, “I wanted to kill him for hurting you…”

She hiccupped in glee but added, “When you kissed me did you realize you felt something more?”

His cobalt blue eyes made her thighs clench, “Would you think less of me if I said yes?”

She pulled her thumb over his bottom lip and leaned forward until her lips were at the corner of his slight smile. “I’ve been in love with you for over four years I think I’d be hypocrite if I did…” she mumbled into the tender kiss.

His smile grew but hers simply faded. She pressed her index finger over his cheekbone as he said in painful realization, “You’re making a mistake Felicity.”

She nodded in complete agreement, “I agree but I can’t lose you.”

He kissed her roughly with need and urgency as she grabbed at his shirt. His tongue felt warm and welcome as he deepened the intensifying kiss. She moaned when his fingers slid over her pebbled nipple, her back arched when his thumb pressed along the aroused tip. She groaned in endless hunger, “Please don’t take this any further…”

Oliver’s fingers traveled to her sternum, she gulped as they each parted for air. “I won’t lose you Oliver,” she panted breathlessly with her palms along his cheeks.

His trembling lips felt feverish along her own, “You’re never going to lose me Felicity, I’m always going to love you...” 

She argued gently, “And I you but...” and this is when she kissed him chastely while holding his face between her shaking hands, “I don’t just love you Oliver, I need you and I can’t risk the bond we have over the chance of something that could end. Do you understand?” 

She saw the sting of rejection in his tender stare. She pressed her lips to his once more as she gently implored, “Please don’t feel rejected...” 

He coughed awkwardly, “Hard not to Felicity...” 

“Touch my heart,” she implored urgently. She felt his fingers dragging along the lines of her ribs, she gulped in arousal but remained focused on the message she’d yet to convey. His touch felt warm as he carefully traced along the damp skin. She pleaded profusely when his fingers were dancing over her racing pulse, “This is not the feeling of rejection Oliver, this is the feeling of elation, of arousal, of longing, and of love. My heart is racing because despite my words I do want you but...” she added hastily as his lips curved, “I need my best friend more...” 

He relented sadly, “I’m completely in love with you…”

She nearly cried in reply, “And I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

Oliver’s damp brow rested heavily against her own in sadness, “Can I still spend the night?” he croaked sadly.

She nodded against his skin, “I don’t want us to change,” she remarked.  

He then nodded while uttering, “I still think you’re making a mistake.” 

She traced his bottom lip with her thumbs, “Perhaps,” she whispered sadly. “Perhaps...” 

He kissed her fingerprints softly before nuzzling her forehead once last time.

She sighed with a heavy heart as the wall between them began to grow.

He still pulled her chest to his own as he slowly shifted onto his side. She kept their legs twined as he placed his palm over her exposed upper back. She yawned along his collar, “We’re forever right?” 

He whispered delicately, “Yeah Felicity we’re for always...” before the invisible wall between them reached its final towering height.

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