#its an exciting but daunting prospect. writing an actual Thing

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

sometimes i like to imagine a future where i write that (y/a or adult targeted) dragon book series i desperately want to, but i know that i wouldn't be able to do it without including art in the book. every time a new important character is introduced the next page would have to be a reference / art of them to Show What They Look Like

[thesinglesjukebox]

TORI KELLY - "CUT"

Alex brings us some UK garage not actually from the UK...

[6.64]

Alex Ostroff: At the end of the first year without any regular Singles Jukebox coverage, the prospect of selecting just one track for Amnesty Week was daunting. Should I choose a fun quirky pop-rap track that reflected the continued importance of TikTok in drawing attention to new music in 2023? Or maybe a pop-country break-up anthem that draws equally from 'Tim McGraw' and 'We Belong Together' that would have been Jukebox catnip back in 2009 but can't seem to break through in 2023? Or maybe yet another British attempt to revive the spirit of R&B girl groups? Ultimately, I picked Tori Kelly's "cut" - a track that I suggested was an American big-pop-chorus approach to PinkPantheress' UK garage revivalism in an earlier Amnesty Week blurb. But while there are undeniable 2step influences here (the first single from Tori's 2023 EP samples Craig David directly), "cut" functions equally as millennium pop revivalism. Darkchild and Timbaland both get writing credits, although presumably just for the vibe that Kelly and producer Jon Bellion are trying to evoke and the ad-libs that Timbaland added when they sent him the track. For years, I couldn't tell you the first thing about Tori Kelly's music. She seemed to be one of those artists with an incredible voice who was perpetually singing as part of award show tributes, but who never settled into a clear artistic identity; cursory research indicates that she yo-yoed from a 2015 Max Martin-produced debut to two explicitly Christian gospel albums to acoustic YouTube performances. There's nothing particularly novel or boundary-pushing about "cut": a trilling acoustic guitar loop, garage drums, arpeggiated violins, Timbo mumbling in the background, Tori jumping the octave for the final chorus, an onomatopoeiac hook that tries to evoke the sound of a skipping heartbeat. But it somehow embedded itself in my brain all autumn and never let up. "cut," and the rest of this year's Tori EP, made me sit up and pay attention to Tori Kelly for the first time a full eight years into her career -- and made me actively excited to see what she does next. [9]

Katherine St Asaph: Timbaland jumping on a trend in 2023, and Tori Kelly jumping on a trend at any time, is probably a sign that the trend is on its way out. The returns haven't totally diminished, though. [6]

Micha Cavaseno: When UK garage touched US shores, a lot of the forms were unrecognizable compared to the source material -- Craig David's "Fill Me In" is one thing, but "7 Days" isn't exactly bubble & squeak. I would like to say that there was a big period of us dancing to Monsta Boy or Masters of Ceremony just so my own nerdy adolescent pursuits felt a little more valid, but no, I'm pretty sure we just listened to Blu Cantrell and that Mary J. Blige comeback record around that time. So really, I'm just fascinated at anyone from the US deciding to emulate a style that's so comparatively niche. As far as retro-UKG from the last few years, it's definitely not hitting "One Kiss" levels, nor is it even Jorja quality, but maybe that's the consequence of things getting lost in translation. [7]

Aaron Bergstrom: Tori gives it a valiant effort, but this still sounds like the batteries slowly running out on a Timbaland Speak & Spell. [4]

Taylor Alatorre: A second-string Timbaland beat scores some major points off the bench, assisted by Tori Kelly's infectious enthusiasm at being allowed on a Timbaland beat of any sort. One can choose to dismiss Tori as Ariana Grande for church moms who did the math on "34+35," or one can choose to celebrate her for that same reason. Her brand of pop soul is clean in more than one sense of the word -- witness how she skims across those challenging vocal phrases like they're beginners' exercises, or how she uses the pauses in the production to turn a lead-in to the chorus into a game of musical jump rope. Let's not agonize over the fact that the definitive slumber party music of two decades ago is now reappearing as adult contemporary; instead, let's call it incremental progress. [8]

Brad Shoup: Howling at the possibility that Timbaland is going to become a hired-gun ad-lib guy, like how a few years back everyone was hiring Nile Rodgers to strum a little. At least Nile gets some co-production credits! [6]

Nortey Dowuona: The skipping garage drums are well mixed. They slip underneath Tori's voice comfortably and bind it tightly, spinning in a dervish across the chorus. The boxy bassline synth below it is a nice counterpoint to the topline synths, which are surprisingly thinned out by reverb and EQ once the last chorus kicks in. It's a good idea and a good choice, but not something you will remember once you stop listening. [6]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: The sound effect at the beginning of the chorus is so bizarre that multiple times while listening to this, I literally looked around to check whether there was a pipe that was emitting steam, a large man sighing slowly, or a freezer opening. Aside from that, "Cut" is expertly crafted pop reminiscent of the early 2000s, each motif stitched together tightly with Tori Kelly's adept voice. [7]

Ian Mathers: I wish they'd built out the "singing the drum part" bit into the chorus, because it's better and more distinctive than the actual chorus. [6]

Oliver Maier: Lots of fun if not especially sticky. Not often does a pop song feel like it's distinctly missing a guest rap verse, but such is the void that opens up at around 2:18. [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: "I'm glad she's having fun" is classic smug pan verbiage but this genuinely works because Tori Kelly is having a lot of fun! It still never breaks through to be anything more than really really good Timbaland/Darkchild cosplay, but I'm not sure if it aspires to anything greater either. [7]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[amoveablejake]

A Look Ahead

Back to the.

It is only a week into 2023, okay eight days, but already it feels like we have been here a long time. Last Sunday I went to watch Tottenham Hotspur (sigh) lose to Aston Villa on New Year’s Day and quite honestly if you told me that was a month ago, I would believe you. I am not exactly sure why 2023 already feels like it has been here for some time but either way at least it feels established. Now, what exactly do I mean by established. Really, I’m not sure. I suppose I feel like this year is starting to form its identity already and that some of the days and weeks ahead are already starting to shape up. With that in mind, I thought that for this week’s piece we would take a look at the year ahead or rather then year ahead from my side of the keyboard. Now the only problem is that I have to work out exactly what 2023 looks like. 

One of the thoughts that I had before this year began is that I am looking forward to seeing what it has in store. I like that certain things aren’t planned and for someone who does like to plan everything down to the last detail I am trying to feel the flow a little more. Obviously not to a crazy extent like giving up all control but more like not planning every day to within a minute of its life and seeing where things go and, as always, remaining present. There are some things however, that are booked in.I will be returning to Paris in March this time with my Mum as it was her Christmas present for the two of us to go back to the city with a truly special bakery in it for us. Or rather patisserie, I don’t want to be refused entry at the gate when they check my passport and my blog alongside it and catch that indiscretion. There is also a weekend away in the North that I am at present finalising as well as some other trips that I’m sure are floating around there that are yet to be formulated and thats okay because I’m excited to uncover them and to embark on these journeys that I am not even aware of yet. Whilst they are not booked in yet I am sure there will be more voyages to watch Tottenham play but one sporting event that I do know is booked in is watching the St Louis Cardinals play the Chicago Cubs when the two Major League Baseball teams come to this little island in the summer. And yes, I will be unbelievably excited when it actually sinks in that I’ll be watching a baseball game in my capital city on a summer’s day with two teams that are always very entertaining. So 2023 does have some things booked in that I’m looking forward to but there is still a lot of space to be filled and sometimes to be filled with the calm and gentle everyday and as I say, I am looking forward to uncovering all of it, one day at a time. 

For a second there I was going to write that this year is going to be a momentous year as one of my closest friends is getting married and whilst it is absolutely a big moment I think I’m going to change the tone there. I was going to use it to signify that things are changing but really when I think about it, they aren’t at all. Yes, ofcourse, things do change as they do every year and from month to month but ultimately I’m not looking to change who I am. For 2023 and I hope in every year beyond, I’m going to keep being me. And whilst big life events in my life and others will happen, things will keep on as they always have. The rhythm of my life does at times change a little bit as it goes off on a separate riff but ultimately it comes back to where its going and everything feels, right. At times recently, I have felt slightly afraid of a new year, or rather not afraid but daunted by the prospect of it. The new year is a big signifier of time and it can be, for a moment, a bit much. But really, as with everything, I breathe, take a step back and feel calm again. There have been a lot of little references and metaphors thrown in today but I’ll try and stick with one to round us off for today. If each year is a song, then I’d like to approach them as improvisational jazz. Really, we don’t know how it starts or the journey its going to go on but with the right players I am confident in where its going to go. 

Just gotta riff.

-Jake, a man becoming more and more obsessed with ‘Persona 5′, 08/01/2023

[hotwings0203]

as ur irl bestie i am cashing in my favor and am asking- no begging for a dilf damon fic pls <3

😑fine fineee I guess I can take a quick break from writing BNHA stuff for you🙄

CW: NSFW, Damon Albarn being an a-hole, manipulation, gaslighting, language minor stuff like that

The studio itself was pretty spacious, you couldn't lie. As much as you loathed to give this cursed group any more credit, you were hard-pressed to remember the last time you´d been called into such a professional recording booth. You were used to dingy atmospheres, crumbling walls, stained carpet, and even cramped garages at times. It felt like your years of meticulously swaying your hand back and forth on the rosin and tuning your strings until they damn near popped were slowly going down the drain, lost in spaces of screaming adolescent boys and shady market agents. The streets of London were unforgiving for a young musician like you, no room to turn to since others were exactly in the same position as you.

 It was by pure coincidence that the day you had played for a local cafe for a small commission, Graham fucking Coxon was sitting in the back of the run-down joint, sipping a murky glass of Bourbon.

 You didn't notice him at first, of course. You had simply let the music in your mind travel from your head down to your arms, and allowed it to move through your fingertips to your bow. The serene melody that sang through the air had turned his head to face you, the shitty drink in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth. 

 Your solo was only a couple of minutes, but the second you were done and packing your bags to head out, the brunette made a beeline for you, blocking your exit.

 ¨Uh, can I help you?¨ You cock your head and shift your violin case.

 ¨Yes, you can actually. Listen, I know this is gonna sound a bit straightforward, but I really liked your piece. Did you compose it yourself?¨ He sounds quiet and sounds nervous, with him barely looking you in the eyes.

 ¨Yeah, I did!¨ You can´t help but beam-it took you several days just to perfect a few meager lines, but in the end you were content with the piece.

 ¨Wow...that's serious talent right there,¨ He opens the door for you, and you nod before you head out, him trailing behind you as he leaves with you.

 ¨You make a good amount of money doing small jobs like this?¨ His voice is nasally and low, but with a slightly higher pitch than your typical London accent.

 At this, you squint your eyes a bit and turn your head at him. It was nice of him to be interested in your work, but for someone you don't personally know, the idea of talking about your small gigs that merited little to no money was not something you were fond of.

 He senses your hesitancy and immediately withdraws. ¨I´m sorry, that was probably rude of me to be so blunt about it. Actually, I don´t think I´ve properly introduced myself.¨ He stops to face you, and you do the same.

 ¨I´m Graham Coxon. You may or may not have heard of me, but I can assure you that I too enjoy music, as an understatement.¨ He extends a calloused hand and smiles a little bit, adjusting the blocky glasses on his face.

 Graham...Coxon? Graham as in....oh, holy shit.

 ¨No way.¨

 ¨Er...unfortunately, yes way.¨ His soft voice lilts as he holds back a laugh, and you gape at him.

 ¨Oh my god!¨ You drop your violin case in the excitement of eagerly returning his handshake. ¨You-you're from Blur! I know you!¨

 ¨Was from Blur, and ´careful now, don´t wanna ruin your instrument. But listen, I´m kind of in a bind here so I´ll get to the chase. We´re working on a few chords here and there back at the studio, and I´ve been on the lookout for a while for someone who fits our tune. ´Thing is, the deadline for submitting our song is comin´ up fast, so we only have a couple weeks left.¨

 You raise your eyebrows, heart pounding in your chest as you listen to his proposition.

 ¨So I´m thinking, you sound pretty good, it's exactly what we need to fill in our bridge. I´d love it if you came in and played a tune for us. If we like you and you´re cool with it, you could feature on our song.¨

 It feels surreal. Were you hearing right? Graham Coxon from Blur asking you to play on his song? This had to be a prank.

 ¨Ẅait, but you've only heard me once, what if my sound doesn't match what you're actually looking for?¨ You stammer, palms clammy as you wipe them off on your trousers.

 ¨Well, that's what a rehearsal session is for, lovely,¨ He chuckles nervously and slides his slightly foggy glasses up his nose. ¨So, you wanna give it a go?¨

 You think for a moment, biting your lower lip. There wasn't exactly anything stopping you now, was there? I mean, sure, the prospect of playing in front of one of UK's most famous bands was daunting, but this was your chance to finally be recognized!

 Taking a deep breath, you pick up your fallen case and nod. ¨Alright, I´m in. When you do wanna meet up?¨

 Graham visibility deflates in relief, letting out a shaky exhale. ¨Great. I'll text you the time and place, yeah? The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up, so we´ll be in contact soon.¨

You both exchange numbers, your phone tingling in your hand long after you bid farewell and drive home in a buzz.

 When you finally get home to your apartment, you throw your keys onto the counter and flop down onto the mattress. What a fucking day.

 So many thoughts bounce around in your addled head. You want to do well, but obviously you don't have their kind of experience in the industry. Should you play more in tune with their song, or continue with your own sound? An idea pops into your head amidst your lunch, a few hours later. Why not just do some more research on the band themselves? Then you'd know exactly what kind of music they're looking for.

 The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up.

 Oh yeah, who else was in the band? It's not like you didn't know who Blur was at their peak, but you paid more attention to their music rather than their faces. Truthfully, you never really basked in tabloids and newspapers purring about the next big scandal, or the top dogs of Britain´s industry when that stuff was relevant.

 You abandon your pathetic sandwich and make your way to your laptop, sliding into a chair and getting down to business. After a few quick searches, you pull up a couple tabs around the name Blur.

 Graham Coxon- Recovering alcoholic. Big fight with Damon Albarn.

 Alex James- Cute boy turned conservative. Classic case.

 Dave Rowntree- Mainly untouched. Became a successful lawyer. Good for him.

 Damon Albarn- A fucking mess.

 Puffing up your cheeks and putting your hands behind your head, you lean back in your chair. Good god, this man is a wreck. Headlines from decades ago swim in and out of your eyes, loud, obnoxious neon prints of Justine and Damon broken up again? Suede claps back!, or Will the Blur Brothers ever come back to each other? Find out first-hand from Coxon himself!, and worst of all, Albarn relapses again, Damon Albarn from Blur goes head-to-head with Liam and Noel-news flash, the brothers win!

 You think you see something about him and a potential wife and child, and that's when you decide it's time to sleep.

 After all, there's no point in getting caught up in any of their backstories.You were just there to play a solo and get out. Nosing around in their lives was more trouble than what it was worth, anyways.

 Which is exactly what you kept trying to tell yourself as you walked into the modern studio two weeks later, its grey soundproof walls and white floor screaming fancy and rich to you. And fancy and rich didn't come without grit and experience, which you had none of. As if to emphasize your inexperience, you went into the wrong halls twice before you exasperatedly checked your messages with Graham and saw that no, it wasn´t room 311, it was room 113.

 Finally, finally, you came across your designated room. The mahogany door was closed, and you placed a hand on the silver knob. You could faintly hear the sounds of a guitar being played from the inside, and it was curiosity above everything else that compelled you to push it open.

 From behind the clear window that separated the booth from the recording area, you see them. Graham, Damon, and other men you don't recognize are all in the midst of the song, the same song Graham had texted you the PDF of for the violin notes. You sheepishly take a few steps forward and clear your throat to catch the attention of a bald man leaning back against his chair right in front of the glass. He turns around and you give a weak little wave, clutching your case in the other hand. 

 ¨Hey, I´m here for-¨

 ¨-Yeah, yeah, Graham told me all about you. Go on ahead and join in, they just started.¨ He pulls a toothpick out from between his lips and gestures to the door of the divider.

 You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you make your way through the second door, and the second you step inside meekly, Damon and Graham´s eyes are on you.

 Graham continues to play the guitar, only lighting up his eyes and giving you an encouraging nod when you step in, and the other two men on bass and saxophone also give a quick smile in greeting. And Damon…well.

 Damon barely acknowledges you.

 He continues to sing and stare straight ahead at the wall in front of him as if there's an interesting scene being played out on the grey paint.

 You´re unsure of whether to catch his attention and give a proper greeting, but you decide not to as it would interfere with the song. So instead, you quickly grab a nearby chair and stand and set up your rosin and papers.

 Your timing is perfect; the bridge is about to come up. Just to be certain, you look up from your poised position and catch the eyes of most everyone except for Damon´s. They all give you a quick thumbs up or an expectant look for your confirmation of playing.

 And then, it comes. Damon stops singing, and your cue to sweep your bow across the horse hairs of your strings comes.

 Melodious, whole, fulfilling, it was. Graham´s guitar chords harmonized with the tones of your violin, and music that you´ve never dreamed of creating was made by your hands exceptionally. 

 Everyone was in awe of your raw talent, from the way their gazes were rapt onto your bow, moving back and forth,staying still in some highs and whittling away at the lows. You even thought you saw the producer from inside the booth turn his head towards you from the corner of your eye, but you couldn´ be sure.

 Everyone except Damon Albarn.

 The song ended a minute later with the signal of a fading out bass, and then there was silence.

 ¨Right on with that tune.. ´Thought we'd be fucked ova´ if we didn't find someone to take that melody.¨ The bassist with long shaggy hair grinned and you returned one back.

 ¨Yeah, I was kind of hesitant when Graham ´ere told us he found one to take this position on, but I'm pleased.¨ The saxophone player scratched his chin and hummed his agreement. You felt relief.

 Until he spoke.

 ¨Is this your first time playing?¨

 You look incredulously over at him, looking straight on at his face. Sandy hair, lines on his cheeks, slight scruff around his chin, he looked older than his online pictures. 

 ¨Uhh, no?¨ You laugh a little, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. ¨If I was, I doubt Graham would think I´m good enough to play with you guys.¨

 ¨I don't think Graham is the only one who needs to think that.¨ Everyone shifts uncomfortably, looking nervously from Damon to you, and Graham tugs his collar as if the temperature had gone up.

 But nonetheless, you don't back down.

 ¨Oh yeah? How so?¨

¨You played the G-string too high,¨ He deadpans, looking utterly bored amidst oceanic hues.

 ¨What?¨ You flip your music pages a couple of times until you find the page where you played that part. ¨No I didn´t, I was right on tune-do you even know how to play the violin?¨

 ¨No,¨ he smirks, and with your blood boiling steadily you open your mouth to argue, but thankfully Graham butts in.

 ¨Damon, don´t be a prick, she played fine. Unlike you, who fucked up on the 5th verse.¨

 The man in question lazily stretches his arms above his head, causing his white tee to rise a few inches over his belly button. You can´t help but glance at the skin-it's smooth, cleanly chiseled with part of his v-line showing, a happy trail rising from the juncture.

 ¨Oi, sweetheart, eyes up here.¨

 You snap your gaze back to his smug face, cheeks burning.

 ¨I didn´t-¨

 ¨Sure you didn´t. Just like how I didn't mess up on the 5th verse, and how you didn't ruin the song with your shitty violin, yeah?¨ He simpers, and you almost rise out of your seat to snarl at him before Graham jumps in between you two, scolding a very inappropriately-grinning Damon.

 You get up out of your chair and huff, shoving your belongings back into your bag as everyone else packs up, the men bickering and playfully throwing shit at each other.

 The producer even congratulates you on your successful first day, and everyone cheers and pounds you on your back, your hair falling in your face and gracefully hiding your 120k watt smile.

 Damon shoulders right past you, knocking your case right out of your hands. You grapple with it for a second before it hits the ground, and when it does you whip around and shoot him an icy glare.

 He's not even looking at you, he's already out the door.

 It's quiet for a moment.

 ¨Well, there he goes again being a dickhead. Classic Damon, you got.¨ The saxophone player points to the leaving blond and grins sheepishly at you.

 ¨What's his problem?¨ You ask in disgust, shaking your head as you join the rest of the boys leaving.

¨Uh, well...¨ Graham scratches the back of his head and avoids looking at you. ¨He's always been kind of like that, y´know, so don't take it too personally, but between just us four, his wife´s been on his arse for a bit about um...some...domestic affairs.¨ He finishes lamely, and the other two men guffaw at your raised eyebrow.

 You don't have a chance to press further as to ask what domestic affairs, exactly because a loud clap of thunder shakes you all to your cores as you step outside.

 ¨Aw, come on!¨ You stamp your foot and hold out your hand for confirmation of the raindrops about to drop on you all. ¨I didn't know it was gonna rain today,¨ you grumble.

 Graham squints up at the sky and wipes some droplets off his blurred glasses, covering his head with his jacket hood as he begins walking to the parking garage. ¨I´ll see you lot in about a week, yeah? Just keep practicing, good rehearsal we had today!¨ He waves his hand and dashes off.

 ¨Good job on your first day, Y/N. Fancy the weather on your walk back for us!¨ The sax and bass player bid farewell and also do a sprint to their respective cars, splashing through the puddles and sending muddy water on your pants.

 ¨Urgh!¨ You raise your hands to try and protect your bottoms but to no avail- London's sewage strikes again.

 Sighing in defeat, you walk through the rain towards your car, succumbing to the grimy walk. Unfortunately you didn't think to use the parking garage due to high nerves when you first came in.

 You walk for about 5 minutes, the rain drenching your hair and clothes and chilling you to your bones.

 Could this day get any more annoying?

Oh, but you should´ve known that it could.

 Because right at that moment, a black limo swerves right next to you on the sidewalk, sending a massive wave of gutter water right your way.

 You swear loudly and jump back, barely managing to avoid the remnants of the sewage tsunami crossing your feet.

 Looking up wildly at the offensive vehicle, you make a fist and flip the window off, your lip curled up into a snarl.

 The obsidian glass rolls down.

 ¨Well that's not very nice, is it? Nasty weather we got going on right now, careful it doesn't get on your clothes.¨

 Oh.

 ¨It's you,¨ you monotone, less than pleased to see his salacious grin at your predicament-which was being soaked to your undergarments in brown muddy water, your hair clinging to your face and your violin case lugging down towards the ground, its weight proving mutiny against you today of all days.

 ¨In the flesh,¨ Damon beams, and you scowl at his cheery attitude.

 ¨You almost drowned me, asshole,¨ You turn your nose up in scorn, and he chuckles in his baritone voice.

 ¨Nah, cant´ve love, I can't drive,¨ he clicks his tongue and jerks his thumb to the seat in front of him, where you assume his chauffeur is.

 ¨Oh, so it was under your orders that your poor driver practically waterboarded me?¨ ¨Well, yeah, I mean what else do you expect me to do when I see a pretty lady walking so harmlessly in the rain?¨ Your voice catches in your throat for a second from his words and the way his glacial eyes twinkle for a moment, but then he erupts in dry chuckles at your demeanor and you throttle your hesitancy at speaking.

 ¨Shut up, you're absolutely vile, y´know that?¨ ¨So I´ve been told, but to be honest sweetheart, I´d rather hear that in bed, where I´m used to hearing it. Now are you going to get in or shall I talk about my sexual prowess with you the rest of the afternoon?¨ He opens his door from the inside and mockingly winks at you.

 You feign a gag, but still decide to jump in the spacious limo when a flash of lightning lights up the sky. 

 He scoots back to give you space to sit and adjust your violin case on the seats in front of you, but just as you´re about to close the door, he leans in right next to you and reaches behind you to pull it shut himself.

 You´re caught still as he draws close, you´re extended hand frozen in midair as his arm against your back flexes and stiffens with it pulling the door. You can feel his breath against your neck as he exhales, can feel some of his hair tickling against your ear and cheek. You hold your breath, not daring to move lest you accidentally brush up against his proximity.

 The loud slam of the door causes you to jump, and he laughs a little at that, signaling his driver to go.

 You don't quite face him, your gaze down in your lap as his entire body is facing you, still stuck in its position when he was closing the car door.

 ¨Not nervous, are you?¨ He murmurs in your ear, and you can´t help it when your whole body shivers at feeling the rumble in his gravelly voice.

 ¨N-no, I´m not. Do you have to be so close?¨ You stammer, barely giving him a sideways glance which eggs him on, much to your displeasure.

 ¨Not really. But if you´re not nervous, then it shouldn't be a problem, right?¨ He says quietly and leans around to catch your eye.

 Before you can lose your nerve and jump out of the car, you snap at him. ¨You just don´t quit, do you?¨ 

 He finally relents and the side of his pink lips lift lazily as he stretches his knees out and practically manspreads across the expanse of three seats. ¨Nope. Not that you really were against it though, ´could feel your heart pounding a mile a minute sweetheart. Trust me, I´m used to making girls nervous, I would know.¨

 You sneer at him. ¨Don´t call me sweetheart, and yeah, I was nervous about getting some disease-ridden prick like you getting close to me. God knows how many STD´s you've contracted from bedding some poor groupies.¨

¨Only one way to find out, right love?¨ He leans his head up to the car ceiling and lets his tousled golden hair flop back, his jawline accentuated by the cream-colored seats contrasting with his tan skin.

 You catch yourself staring, and shake your head quickly.

 ¨You must´ve been more hopped up on heroine than I thought if you think I´d ever fuck a self-absorbed, narcissitic bastard like you.¨

 The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but once they do your eyes widen and you clap a hand over your mouth in horror.

 Damon lifts his head and slowly turns to face you, his mouth set in a thin line.

 ¨A self-absorbed, narcissistic bastard whose limo you're riding in, need I remind you, so I can´t be all that bad. ´Can't say I haven't heard any of that before love, but most girls who say that end up in my bed anyways.¨

 You open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off.

 ¨Although, ´hopped up on heroin´ is a new one. Just exactly how much research have you done about me so far?¨

 Your rebuttal dies in your throat. You were caught.

 Your ears burn and your face flushes as you bite your lip in embarrassment. Maybe you went too far, and on top of that you let it slip that you knew about him beforehand.

 But you refuse to kowtow in humiliation to this idiot, so you think quickly.

 ¨I doubt you´ve got your head that far up your ass to disregard how half the world was tuning into your personal life when Blur was big, Damon.¨

He looks unimpressed with your excuse, but before he can open his mouth to question you further, you hurry up with another save.

 ¨Also, where are we going? You never asked me where my car was.¨

Bingo His eyes brighten and he shouts at the driver, harping on about him being a brain-dead idiot for driving in circles the past 10 minutes.

 What a save.

 *******************

The moment you step into the booth next week, a drumstick is lobbed at you from seemingly nowhere. You yelp and hold your case up, blocking the weapon as it bounces off your makeshift shield. You bring the case down and shoot a glare towards the only man you know capable of acting so childishly at his grown age.

 But he´s already scrolling through his phone, looking for a measure to start from.

 ¨You´re late.¨

 ¨Hardly,¨ you mutter, glancing at the clock on the wall. Two minutes past shouldn´t be an excuse for having a drumstick pick out your eye.

 ¨Good to see you again, Y/N,¨ Graham pipes up softly, sending you an apologetic glance from Damon to you and you stick out your tongue in faux annoyance. 

 The other two members of your group greet you as well, and you all begin practice. Notes begin harmonizing together, voice and sound coinciding to make music you´ve swayed your hips and nodded your head to on blue nights.

 It´s a hot day, humidity clinging to your skin akin to the perspiration hanging off your forehead, and halfway through the song you decide to take off your sweater. You´re wearing a white tank top underneath, nothing too revealing save for the slight dip in the V-neck, but you couldn't care less about modesty at the moment when your fingers were literally slipping in their grasp on your sweat-slicked bow.

 During a quick break in your part of the song, you slip off your sweater and fan yourself out. It feels good, but you feel a pair of eyes staring at you. Following the laser gaze, you turn your head to face Damon, but he´s nose-deep in the lyrics sheet, warbling about a broken love or friendship. 

 Huh, must´ve been imagining it.

 Your solo comes up, and you prepare yourself for tackling the notes to your best ability, keeping up with Graham´s rapid guitar pace. Sweat continues to build on everyone´s vicinity when the rapid movement of arms waving around their own instrument causes more body heat to suffocate you all.

 Miraculously, the song finishes, and you collapse in your seat like the rest of the men, panting and wiping slick off your foreheads. You reach for a bottle of water on the floor and unscrew the lid, grimacing at its lukewarm temperature but drinking it nonetheless.

 For the second time, you have an unnerving feeling of being watched. This time, you whip your head to the side and catch him staring straight at you. 

 Damon´s face is flushed, his hair tousled, his rose colored glasses steamed up from the muggy aura in the room. His denim jacket is hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his torso covered with a sheer wife beater that accentuates his chiseled dad-body.

But he just stares you down, saying nothing. You frown at him a little bit and shift your body away from him, feeling vulnerable to his laser-gaze. His eyes darken, but Graham speaks, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say.

 ¨That was pretty good, you lot. Greg, Taz, hold off on the third beat of the fourth measure. We´ve gotta crescendo slightly-¨

 ¨Y/N, do you have a job?¨

 Damon's voice cuts off Graham, and everyone falters as they look at him and then you in surprise.

 ¨I don´t know what you mean,¨ you respond coolly, knowing that whatever he was about to say wasn't good.

 ¨I mean, do you have a job? Because as far as I know, most people who work don't dress like whores at their job.¨

 His eyes travel from your face down to your slight cleavage, and you sputter in rage as the rest of the boys shift uncomfortably.

 ¨Damon, for god's sake what´re you on about?¨ Graham asks wearily, taking his glasses off and rubbing his shiny neck.

 ¨I could ask you the same thing, actually. Because as far as I know, you've fucked enough women in your lifetime that one would think you could keep it in your pants for five minutes without acting like a twelve-year-old. Oh, but unless that´s too professional for you? I guess you´re not as serious about your work environment as you claim.¨ you laugh, and the sax player, Greg, snorts into his water bottle.

 Damon sneers, ¨How could I forget, you actually have done your research about my life and sexual endeavors, what a cute little fangirl you are. If you wanted an autograph, you could've just asked, sweetheart.¨

 ¨Go fuck yourself,¨ you snap. ¨You´re all wearing wife-beaters anyways, what's the difference?¨

 Damon starts again but Graham claps his hands loudly, startling you all.

 ¨Enough, both of you! What's gotten into you? Need I remind you that our song is due in less than two weeks? We need to finish this shit and get on with it. Stop acting like children.¨

 You mumble under your breath and Damon shoots a dark look to his childhood friend, but the brunette doesn't back down, and continues to give advice on how to improve their song. You don´t look at Damon the rest of the session out of pure spite, but that doesn't stop him from shamelessly staring straight at you, right until it's time to leave.

 The second Graham checks his watch and exclaims that it's a quarter past twelve already, you´re already bolting out of your seat and shoving your violin in its case, eager to get out of the disgustingly hot room.

 Fortunately, this time you had the right idea to park in the garage like everyone else to avoid any other unwanted encounters, but unfortunately while it was nice to not be waterboarded on your walk, it wasn´t enough to stop said unwanted encounters from occurring.

 Take right now, for instance.

 As you stumble to your car in the blistering weather, your energy depletes faster and faster, causing you to be light headed. Practice was already tough enough in the sweltering heat, but after Damon's little scene you don't have any energy to even walk.

 You crash blindly into your car, the metal of the doors burning your skin as you make contact with the handle. You hiss and jerk back, swaying slightly as your head fogs up. You can barely see, you feel like your clothes weigh a ton on you, so you slide down the vehicle and sit up against the tires, throwing your head back against the car and groaning. The idea of unlocking your doors and sitting in the seat where no doubt several temperatures higher will be settling on the dashboard and in the front row is nauseating.

 Weather-2

You-0

 You don't know the building well enough to know where a vending machine is, and even if you shot Graham a text, you don't have enough energy to wander around and scout for it.

 And lo and behold, from a distance, a figure approaches. You squint as it draws nearer, and let out a laugh as the features come into familiarity.

 The heat must be getting to you worse than you thought, because you´re certain you´re hallucinating Damon Albarn of all fucking people swaggering towards you, one hand holding his denim jacket over his shoulder, and a shit-eating grin on his face as he comes to stand in front of you.

 All you can do is pant like a dog, looking up at him with unimpressed eyes.

 ¨Oi, G-String. ´Brought you some water.¨ he holds out a hand, and you choose to ignore the offensive nickname, insead noticing the large bottle in it, cold condensation covering its expanse.

 Your eyes widen and you lick your lips unconsciously, holding your hands out for it.

 Damon watches your tongue poke out and loses focus before snapping back to reality and moving his arm above your head. You pout and try to reach for it again, but he laughs and holds it even higher.

 You glare and turn your head away from him, suddenly remembering how he embarrassed you earlier. 

 ¨Go away. I don't want it anymore. You´re an asshole.¨ you mumble, perspiration hanging off your lip as you lick the salty beads away once again.

 Damon´s eyes never leave your mouth as he listens to you and watches the pink appendage make its appearance again, and his mouth hangs open slightly unbeknownst to you for a second. You cross your arms and glare at the empty parking lot, silently willing him to go away.

 He snaps back into focus yet again and shakes his head at you. ¨Oh come on love, I´m just teasing. You look like you´re about to die anyways, might as well make this your last meal-er, drink I mean.¨

 ¨I´m not taking anything from a complete dickhead who enjoys harassing women about their clothes. You know, for such a womanizer, you act pretty clueless about how comments like that would make a girl feel. No one else but you had an issue with it, or rather, had the audacity to point it out.¨ You cough at the last word, your dry throat and heavy head making it harder to talk.

 He sighs and crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet. He pops open the cap and gently turns your chin towards his face, much to your surprise. You´re genuinely too weak to protest, but when you look at his concerned face, eyebrows scrunched up and accentuating the lines on his forehead, you don't think you'd want to turn away even if you could.

 He coaxes your agap mouth even more open by dragging a rough thumb down over your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, mesmerized by his eyes. His movements are soft and slow, as if you were a fidgety rabbit about to run off at the slightest touch. He scoots closer, right over in front of you as you simply gaze up at him, allowing him to pour cool water down your throat, quenching your bone-dry palate.

 For a couple of seconds, water floods your mouth but all you can do is stare up at him. The light rays are reflecting off his back, casting a yellow glow around his silhouette and he almost looks like an angel. His hair is mussed as if he'd spent the day running his hands through the golden locks, and the scruff on his face peeks through soft-looking skin.

 ¨Swallow, or I'll really waterboard you this time,¨ he says lowly, chuckling a bit as he catches you staring so adamantly right in his face. You jerk back to consciousness and swallow hastily, accidentally choking on the gulp in your rush.

 He laughs even more and lets go of your chin much to your disappointment as he adjusts himself to sit next to you, not seeming to mind the scorching car metal. The absence of his hand on your face leaves a cold, empty feeling in your heart despite the heated blush on your cheeks

 ¨You´ll burn yourself,¨ you mumble, lolling your head over to look at him.

 But he looks straight ahead and shrugs casually. ¨Not any more than you.¨ You both sit in silence for a few minutes, occasionally sipping from the bottle he passes towards you and watching cars go by.

 ¨You didn't answer my question. Why do you harp on me in the studio? You act like a normal human being here.¨

 Damon looks thoughtfully at a white sedan passing by, then speaks.

 ¨As I´m sure Graham has blabbed to you already, I´ve been having some...trouble with the missus, let's say.¨

 You say nothing and raise a questioning eyebrow.

 ¨For the shitty attitude,¨ he mutters and swipes the bottle from your hand, taking a large swig himself.

 ¨And, like you said earlier, I am an asshole. Of course I´ll enjoy harassing pretty women over their revealing clothes,¨ he smirks and gives you a once over.

 There it was again, pretty woman.

 You scowl and get up to leave, but what he says stops you in your tracks.

 ¨Taz was lookin´ at you,¨ he says quietly, suddenly very interested in the now-empty bottle. ¨´Didn't like it, but I couldn't say anything to him. Graham likes him too much.¨

 Huh. Maybe the pair of eyes you felt back in the room didn't only belong to Damon.

 He cracks a small smile and looks up at you, his face adorably innocent and wide as he sheepishly admits, ¨I´m used to butting heads with blokes like him for women.¨

 You jerk back up to your feet, brushing off any insinuation he was giving and pat his knee awkwardly, ignoring the fire now igniting once again in your chest.

 ¨Thanks for the water, I needed it. You might wanna move if you don't want to get run over by my car.¨ You reach down and pick up your case as Damon clambers to his feet.

 He looks amused as you fumble for your keys, nervously turning the lock and sitting in the hot car, obviously eager to get away from his intimidating gaze.

 ¨I´ll see you next week, yeah?¨ You laugh breathlessly and roll your window down to call out to him.

 He says nothing, but merely cocks his head at you, his eyes now obscured by the rose-colored glasses he puts over his eyes. He waves a little and watches as you drive away a little too fast.

 But as it turns out, you don't see him next week.

 ******

It was just your luck that one of the cutest guys from your work asked you out on the very same week you had practice with the boys. You contemplated moving the date to another time, but...you deserved to have some fun time off too, right? It's not like it would make too much of a difference in your skill, anyways, you´ve gotten all the strings down and such.

 So, you decide to go on this date. It goes well, the dude was cute, dorky, lacked a little pizzazz but nothing a bottle of fancy red wine and a night of movies couldn´t coax out of him. It honestly wasn't anything too big, you exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up again soon. After parting ways, you threw yourself back into the regular regime of practicing your violin and meticulously listening to the booth recording every night, just so you could perfect your part to a T.

 The day came where you had to go back to practice, and you were ready, veins pumping with determination to make these last few sessions the best you´ve played yet. You texted Graham that you´d be there soon, and he gave you a thumbs up in return. When you finally arrived in front of the room, you were 10 minutes late. The boys were already playing, by the sound of the percussion booming outside the door. You grimace and take a deep breath, turning the handle in and hurrying inside the booth.

 No one really spared a glance at you, so you assumed you were okay in terms of punctuality. You opened your case and started strumming your strings, counting the measures and beats until it was your turn. Damon´s voice rang out, melodious and airy as ever, dropping octaves and floating on soprano tones. Your bow moved across his words, accenting his tones and adding emphasis to his sorrowful song. And then, after a couple of minutes, it was done.

 ¨Alright you lot, pretty good for today. ´Specially you, Y/N, you caught up pretty quick, I expected you to slack behind but I'm actually impressed.¨ Graham flashed you a nervous grin and you beamed back at him in return.

 ¨Yeah, speaking of, why were you gone last week? I expected someone who makes below the poverty line would actually want to work for their money,¨ Damon chuckles a little meanly.

 You feel your smile drop a smidge.

 ¨Well actually Damon, not that it's any of your business, but I went on a date.¨ You smirk at him, enjoying the way his mouth opens slightly and moves silently.

 But he regroups quickly and glares at you. ¨None of my business? The deadline is only a few days away, and you´re whoring yourself out and going on dates? I guess you´re not as professional as Graham thought.¨

 Everyone shifts uncomfortably, and blood rushes to your face, anger clouding your mind. Why was he being like this? He was fine the last time you saw him, you actually thought maybe he was going to change the way he addressed you.

  Graham speaks up. ¨Damon. You´re overreacting man, I gave her the okay, and she played fine today. No harm done, seriously, there's no need for that kind of language towards her.¨

 ¨Actually, there absolutely is a need. If I knew you were going to invite a prostitute as our sub-in then I would´ve never agreed to have her here. Didn´t know you were so low on money Y/N, I would´ve spared you a couple pounds.¨ He sneers.

 ¨Damon!¨

 You laugh bitterly and rise to your feet. ¨Oh that's rich, coming from the man who fucked half the continent just because he couldn't get over one girl. No wonder every real woman in your life including your wife wants to leave, nothing is ever good enough for you. Except heroin maybe.¨

 The words leave your mouth before you can take them back, and there's a pin drop silence as if a bomb had been dropped. In a way, it kind of did.

 Damo glares at you. Everyone is holding your breath, including you.

 ¨Get out.¨

 ¨Hey,-¨ Taz tries to gently interject but Damon throws the mic at him. 

 ¨I said get the fuck out. You´re not practicing with us anymore, you can pack your shit and leave.¨

 Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, and you choke out a small ¨Fine.¨

 You hear Graham berating him behind you as you fly through the door, telling him that they need you, it's too late to change people, but the words jumble in your ears as the door slams shut. You don't hear what Damon says, if he even says anything, and you aren't interested in his comebacks right now.

 It's only when you leave the car, tears streaming down your face in rage and embarrassment that you groan to yourself, your hands reaching an empty seat with one foot out the door-

You forgot your violin case.

 ************

 It's nighttime.

 The crickets chirp as you creep silently through the parking garage, the soft thud of your shoes echoing a lot louder than you wanted in the empty lot. The studio itself wasn't closed, but you were sure Damon must have informed the manager there not to let an ex-musician like you back in there.

 Wearing a black hoodie and black pants was a smart move- you blended in with the shadows well. The doors weren't locked, and you hiss out a small ¨yesss¨ as you slip inside the mostly dark building. Needless to say, you were proud of yourself for navigating through the windings pitch-black hallways to your old booth.

 Testing the handle lightly, you sigh out in relief when that too gives way. Unfortunately though, the second the door shuts behind you, you immediately stumble forward and fall. 

 The room is dark, darker than the other hallways so you can barely see your hands. The only source of light you´re granted is the dim red bulb on top of the booth door. And speaking of, that's exactly where you need to go...which proves to be harder when you keep bumping into random shit and cursing when you feel potential bruises forming on your shins.

 Miraculously you stagger through the next door towards where you last sat, and blindly feel around the floor and chairs for your violin case. You feel nothing there, but panic starts settling in your heart when you can't find it.

 ¨Looking for something?¨

 You scream and lurch backwards, knocking your head into some kind of stand. Groaning, you rub your head and hold a hand on your racing heart as you squint into the dim red room, placing the voice to the person.

 ¨D-Damon?¨ 

 ¨In the flesh sweetheart. ´Knew you'd come back for this, s´just my luck I came back to get it tonight so I could give it to you personally in case you wanted to be stubborn. But this is even better than I could´ve hoped.¨

 You make out his silhouette in the obsidian abyss in front of you. He's sitting with knees spread on a chair, a few feet in front of you as he leans his head back on the wall. Your precious violin case is being held hostage in his arms, and it's the absolute love you have for the brittle instrument that propels you to your feet and moves you to get the hell out instead of interrogating him.

 ¨What, so you were just here the whole time listening to me falling around like an idiot?” You laugh incredulously, and you see the area of his shoulders move up and down.

 ¨Was pretty funny to watch, honestly. You sound cute when you curse.¨ He stands up to his fullest height now, the red light bouncing off his back, giving him a sort of demonic halo.

 You knew it was actually time to leave when you felt those stupid butterflies in your stomach rise up again.

¨Right, well, I´ll be on my way then. Good luck with your song and whatever, I´ll just take the case...¨ You trail off as your extended hand is left in midair, no violin case reaching it.

 He cocks his head at you. ¨Why are you in such a rush to leave?¨

 You can´t help the scoff that escapes you. 

 ¨Are you serious? You were such an absolute dickhead to me this afternoon, you said all sorts of horrible things to me, and you even fired me for Christ's sake! I want nothing to do with you, so could you please give me my case back so I can go?¨

 He's silent for a moment before answering. ¨Are you done yet?¨

 It isn´t just the light that's making you see red now.

 ¨Fuck you, honestly.¨ You whirl around and stomp towards where you guess the  door is, ignoring the clatter behind you and bingo you locate the handle, but as soon as you turn it-

 A hand reaches from behind you and pulls the ajar door shut.

 ¨Don´t go. I´m sorry.¨

 You´re absolutely still as you feel him towering over you, his arm dangerously close to your midriff as his hand remains on the knob.

 His voice is low, and you can feel him breathe against your neck, mere inches away. You can´t help the involuntary shiver that passes through you, and he feels it too, inhaling deeply when he gets close to your ear.

 ¨You smell so good.¨

 ¨Leave me alone, Damon,¨ you whisper, your voice catching in your throat from the overwhelming onslaught of emotions passing through you.

 He breaths in and slowly lets his hand rest on your side.

 ¨I can't do that. You know why. You have to have known by now.¨

 You tremble in his touch, yet allow his hands to wander down to your hip, the other coming around in a sort of hug to pull you closer to him.

 ¨We can´t.¨

 ¨Sure we can.¨

 You can feel his erection bumping against your ass.

 ¨You´re not worth this.¨

 ¨I´ll make myself worth it.¨

 And as soon as he latches onto the back of your neck, you´re like putty in his hands, a moaning mess as he sucks galaxy-colored hickies on your skin. You can feel yourself grow wetter as he shoves his hands up your shirt and teasingly pulls down the bridge of your bra, letting the weight of your tits fill up his hands appreciatively. He starts rolling your hardened buds in between his skilled calloused fingers, and you whine and throw your head back when you feel him rut against your ass, panting raggedly in your ear.

 You rub your thighs together, desperate for some form of friction as he squeezes your tits, and then letting one hand ghost across the expanse of your stomach, down to brush against the rim of your panties. Damon chuckles meanly in your ear when you buck against the stilled hand over your mound.

 ¨You want this?¨ He lightly nips your ear. He smells like old spice and sandalwood.

 You nod desperately, frustrated with him not giving you his thick fingers already.

 But it's not enough for him. ¨No no, pretty girl, use your words now. I´ve barely touched you yet and you´re already moaning like a wanton little slut for me? And here I was thinking you weren't that easy.¨

 You stop jerking your hips and blood rushes to your face at his insulting words. You try to move out of his grip, huffing and regretting the whole thing but he outright laughs now and spins you around, tugging you forward until your chest is slotted against his. You pout at him and look away, but he's quick to grasp your chin and pull you in for a rough yet sensual kiss.

Pushing you backwards against the wall, he deepens the lip-lock, tracing his tongue over your lips, nipping at the soft flesh and darkening his eyes when you whimper and look up at him.

 He knows what he´s fucking doing when he again drops his hand under your pants and over your panties, his other palm wound up firmly through your hair. He pulls your head back and lets you breathe for a second from his kiss of death before he speaks again.

 ¨I didn't hear an answer, slut. Do you want this?¨ He leans forward until his nose brushes against your neck, flicking his tongue out to taste your saccharine flesh.

 You tremble against his firm body when he pushes his pelvis against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

 It doesn't matter anymore. Maybe he was right, maybe you were just an easy slut putting up a facade for him, but when his clothes erection grinds up against your pussy you can't care less.

 ¨Y-yes, yes, ´want you, please,¨ you pant, frantically gripping the back of his cropped hair as his head descends to mark your neck again.

 ¨What a good girl,¨ he whispers, finally allowing his digits to oh-so-slowly trace over your mound, pressing down harder when you jerk against him. He finds your wet clit and flicks it a few times, snickering when you gasp and moan. Your body writhes in place but he holds you literally between a rock-or, wall- and a hard place, preventing you from scampering off.

 He drums his fingers against your folds, paying no attention to the way you grip his head tighter against you, silently begging him to go further.

 But he relents eventually and retires from just pushing and prodding your folds, allowing his slicked fingers to slowly dive into your drooling hole. You whimper and bite back a string of curses when you feel him fill you completely, scraping against your walls for that one special spot.

 His mouth moves off your neck and he rises to face you, a stupid smug grin on his wet lips, his eyelids lowered and trained on you. You flush at his lustful expression and gently push his head away, not wanting to accept his victory yet.

 ¨My fingers are literally fucking you right now, and you still won´t let me look at you? What, too embarrassed you couldn't continue being a stone-cold bitch for long?¨

 You open your mouth to snap back but right at that moment he curls his fingers and grazes your G-spot, simultaneously grounding his wet palm against your clit.

 With a loud gasp and the sluttiest moan you´ve ever made, you cum hard, your mouth open in a silent scream and your tongue hanging out like a bitch in heat as you do so. You fall forward against him.

 You don't even need to look up to know that he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

 ¨What was that sweetheart? Sorry, ´couldn't hear you over those slutty moans. I think even the pornstars I´ve been with would give you a standing ovation if they heard what you just sounded like.¨

 Your words are slurred as you curse nonsense at him, yet you´re still gripping his forearms to keep a hold on yourself. Your ears are ringing and you see spots as you come down from your climax, and surprisingly enough, Damon holds you close and doesn't let you slip down to the ground as you expected to when your knees start to give out.

 Instead, he lifts you up quite easily and carries you over to a table in the corner of the room. You don´t know how he even navigates his way through the dimly lit room, but you suppose after almost half a lifetime in studios he knows his way around.

 You offer no resistance as he sets you down gently and begins to lift your shirt off of your body. You manage to lift your arms weakly up in the air for easier access to stripping, but when he starts to kneel down to take your pants off you stop his hands at your knees and look at him with scrunched eyebrows.

 He stops and looks up at you. His eyes aren't so darkened anymore, they´re wide and imploring, probably noticing your hesitation.

 ¨Damon, I...¨ You trail off as he maintains eye contact with you and slowly lowers his pursed lips to your calf, lightly pecking his way up to your knees and ensuring that you´re watching his every move.

 Your breathing increases again as his pink appendage darts out, his saliva cooling on your exposed thighs. He sucks on the plush skin and turns his head upwards to face you.

 You want to run your hands through his hair.

 ¨You have a wife,¨ You breathe.

 ¨Not for tonight I don´t.¨

 Your voice gets caught in your throat at that. He positions his hands at the side of your knees, fingers curling around the hem of your pants in a second attempt.

 ¨Let me make you feel good, love.¨

His answer is in the form of your hand reaching for his collar and pulling him up into a standing position until he towers over your seated form, once again breath stolen in a heated kiss.

 Damon fumbles with his zipper as you shove your pants off, fully ready for him now, your dampened panties solid evidence of your need for him.

 He pulls his cock out and it bounces out, slapping up against his stomach.

 You do a double take. The tabloids were right. He was absolutely huge.

 It was disgusting almost, it was insulting really. How the fuck could he be that big? You lose count of how many inches he is when you start to get light headed, realizing with a jolt that he plans to put that monster inside you.

 And fuck, why did it have to be so pretty too? Normally you wouldn´t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but fuck, that´s the only appropriate word that came to mind as you admired the white flesh as it mixed in with a dull pink flush turning into an angry shade of red as your eyes progressed up to his tip...which was soaked with precum, mind you.

 He was neatly shaven everywhere, including his plush balls. No wonder he got to fuck half the continent.

 Damon notices your gawking and smiles lazily, taking a fist around his prick and stroking lethargically up and down.

 ¨You gonna just stare at it all day or are you going to spread those cute legs for me?¨

 Spoken like a true middle aged fuck-boyman.

 You look up at him beseechingly, thoroughly intimidated by his length. He merely scoffs, winking at you when he wrenches your tightly closed knees apart.

 It's almost like he falls into a trance when he presses his now-naked torso against your chest, when he slots himself between your legs and drags his tip through your sloppy folds and up onto your clit. His mouth falls open slightly and he moans when your juices coat his dick, making it slippery and easy to push the first few inches ever so slightly into your spasming cavern.

 He can't help but want more, need more as he practically smothers his weight onto you, forcing you to lie back on the table and letting your legs dangle off the edge. He hunches over you and thrusts minutely into your pulsing folds, groaning when you whine and lace your fingers around his neck and tangle your legs around his back, dragging him impossibly close into you.

 For a moment it´s just the sound of you two panting and moaning like inexperienced teenagers, and a zing of pride zips up your spine at the realization that Damon Albarn, one of the world's most renowned playboy is whining and humping against your pussy, reduced to nothing at your hands.

 He takes your hands from around his neck and grips your wrists, forcing them above your head on the table. He leans down and kisses you, hard. You give him back the same energy when your hips move up and down along his length, pushing your inviting hole towards his eager and jumping dick.

 ¨Pretty little girl,¨ he murmurs against your lips, and you nip his bottom lip playfully in retaliation. He slowly starts to sink himself into you, and you practically purr at the feeling of his veiny member dragging against your sensitive walls until he stops. 

 You look at him questioningly, and blanch when you see the mischievous glint in his cobalt eyes.

 ¨I want you to count for me.¨

¨Count…?¨ You shake your head in confusion and he pulls out, making you groan in annoyance.

 ¨I want you to count every inch I put inside you. Unless your slutty mouth can't even do that? I'd be surprised if you couldn´t, you usually have so much shit to say.¨ His voice is low yet teasing, and a shiver passes through you when the rumble of his chest vibrates against your nipples.

 ¨F-fine, I´ll count.¨

 He hums in approval and regroups, guiding his length into your awaiting pussy once again.

 It´s almsot torture how slow he goes, and your toes curl at how vivid the sensation is at this pace.

 You almost forget to do what he asks until he ducks his head down and teeths your bud.

 ¨Ah, fuck! One!¨ You yelp, writhing to get away from his lecherous gaze and hold on your poor tit.

 He tuts and licks the swollen area until the pain subsides a bit, and then he continues to push.

 ¨T-two,¨ you moan and let your head fall back. It's unfair how tightly he´s holding your reins-you want him to plow you down, not take his sweet time in this punishment.

 ¨Damon, can´t you go any faster? Please, I want y-¨

¨-I didn't take you for a masochist, Y/N, but I´m happy to play around with these cute tits if you want to bitch more.¨

Your scowl is cut off when he suddenly shoves two more inches into you, and you mewl loudly at being filled so much.

 ¨Three! Four! Fuck, oh god, please,¨ you babble nonsense as he curses above you, his form shaking in an effort not to push all the way in.

 ¨Doing so good sweetheart, you´re almost halfway,¨ he smirks and you gape at him in disbelief.

 Halfway?

 Five, six, seven, eight, and nine go painfully slow, and by the time he´s fully sheathed inside you, plush balls pressed against your ass, you´re an incoherent, drooling mess.

 Your hair is in your face, your cheeks are flushed, and your body bounces up and down as he begins to rock inside you, finally giving you what you want.

 His name is chanted like an obscene prayer from your mouth as he grunts and shakes the table. Your legs are wobbly and unable to do anything except press him tighter against you to the point where he can barely move back. The skin of his stomach slaps against yours, his balls slap against the crevice of your ass, and your pussy practically sloshes with every stroke in and out.

 He fists your hair with one hand and pulls your neck up to meet his searching lips, his other hand holds your wrists fast against the table. You want to touch him, you want to explore your body as he has conquered yours but he doesn't let you feel anything else apart from the rapid thrusts inside your battered body.

 Damon switches positions and lifts the back of your knees up and pushes them forwards until they meet your chest. He lets his body weight rest on the back of your thighs as he pulls out and pushes back impossibly close inside you, closer than he did in missionary. 

 You sob with need as he plunges into you and reaches a higher spot than before, his tip grazing your cervix. He pounds into you, and you thrust your hips up to fuck back into him, calling out his name as if he were your god.

 It´s a good thing the rooms are soundproof.

 You feel your second climax comes when he paves way through your tight walls and batters your uterus. It doesn´t hurt so much as feel intense, and your choked moans become panting gasps when he brings a hand down to swirl his thumb over your aching clit.

 ¨You´re not going to meet with that prick from your work again, yeah? Say it. Say it if you want me to let you cum.¨ He could have been speaking an alien language for all you knew. Your poor addled brain didn't pick up anything except for the word ¨cum¨, and you were a goner.

 ¨Yes, yes, anything you say, anything you want, just please let me-¨

And oh he does.

 It comes over you like a tidal wave, your mind going blank, your eyes seeing white as your legs shake from your earth-shattering orgasm. You feel like you´re going down a rollercoaster, and you never want to stop dropping.

 Distantly, you hear him groan and say your name. You can feel pulsing in your filled walls, with what you assume is his ropes of cum. It feels like when you came, it practically squeezed all his cum out with your clenching.

 He lets out a shaky breath and falls forward, his nose inches from yours, his breath puffing in your face.

 Your eyes are glazed over, but you´ve never seen anything more clearly before.

 Maybe Damon Albarn really was worth it.

[ambitionsource]

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

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

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

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

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

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

EXT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SENIOR SHOWDOWN FINALS!!

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

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

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

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

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

Any new diagnosis can be scary, but…

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

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

Then he heads out, holding his chin high.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY

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

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

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

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

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

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

Tell us who you are.

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

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

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

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

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

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

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

INT. AAA - A/V CLUB STUDIO - DAY

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

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

Yogi: Oh?

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

Yogi, trying not to laugh: For sure.

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

Yogi: Uh huh. Go on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yogi: What about Lucas?

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

Yogi, amused: That makes more sense.

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

Yogi: So Zay gets fucked up.

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

Yogi: Nope.

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

Yogi: Rest easy, queen.

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

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

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

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

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

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

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

Sarah: Aren’t you supposed to be rehearsing?

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

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

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

Yogi: Oh, Neptune…

The camera cuts to black.

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

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

Zay: I don’t want to live them now.

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

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

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

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

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

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

Brandon: Seven, eight!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charlie: No, I’m only wondering --

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

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

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

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

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

Everybody sing!

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

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

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

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

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

Chai: Really? You want me?

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

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

Isadora: Not everyone.

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

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

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

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

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

Riley: What? Work through what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Farkle: Yeah. Yeah, I hope.

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

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

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

Riley: It’s time to worry.

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

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

Lucas: Not great considering Haverford is all testosterone.

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

Lucas: You’re gay.

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

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

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

INT. AAA - PROP LOFT - DAY

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

Asher: No.

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

Lucas: We’re running out of options --

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dylan, under his breath: Thesaurus bonus.

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

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

Then Dylan smiles.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dylan: Oh boy.

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

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

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

Maya: [ into her bullhorn ] Cluck. Cluck.

Asher: Okay, that’s it --

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maya: For the love of God…

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

Lucas: Help round out the male presence too.

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

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

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

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

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

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

Once she’s done, Isadora continues.

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

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

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

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

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - SENIOR LOUNGE - DAY

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

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

Evan: Babineaux is a really good dancer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Havie 2: Only if you get caught.

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

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

EVAN SCOTT notices too, eyeing him with concern.

Evan: You okay, Charlie?

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

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

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

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

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - ELEVATOR - DAY

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

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

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

INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - HALLWAY - DAY

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

Isadora: Open it. 

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

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

Maya sighs, but obliges.

INT. APARTMENT 803 - DAY

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

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

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

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

Maya: I missed you so much. 

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

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

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

Maya: Is this… for us? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Isadora, quietly: Thank you. 

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

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

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

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

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riley: Almost?

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

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

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

Charlie: I need to talk to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tell us who you are.

Charlie exhales, eye contact steady as he steels himself.

Charlie: There’s something you need to know.

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

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

Riley: Haverford knows our setlist.

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

Isadora: How is that even possible?

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

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

Chai: Lord knows they could afford it.

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

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

Nate: Those bitches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riley: Maybe it’s not over just yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nigel: With what, a whole new routine?

Darby: You’re kidding. In a week?

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

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

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

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

Farkle, flatly: … women?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maya: Bang bang.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucas: You heard her.

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

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

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

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

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

INT. AAA - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY

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

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

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

Jade: Where were we?

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

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

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

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

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

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

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

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

Break 1.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

Farkle: Oh no.

Isadora: It was a filling, Maya.

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

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

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

Zay: Really selling the selflessness here.

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

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

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

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

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

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

Isadora: Yeah, no kidding.

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

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

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zay: Do you remember when we became friends?

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

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

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

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

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

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - FLASHBACK - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yindra: You are so dramatic.

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

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

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

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

Zay: Nigel?

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

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

INT. TOPANGA’S CAR - MOVING - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riley: Thanks for coming with me.

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

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

Still, thinking of him naturally elicits a delicate smile.

Riley: Yeah. Yeah, we are.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

Lucas: Hey!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chai, shyly: Is this… okay?

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

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

Chai: You got it! 

Isadora: Really? 

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

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

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

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

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

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

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

Billy: Way to show up, C.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brandon: But?

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

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

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

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

Then he smiles, suave and unbothered like always.

Brandon: Sure, Charles. I understand completely.

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

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

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

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - LOBBY - DAY

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

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

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

EXT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

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

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

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

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

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

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

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

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

Riley, uncertainly: Hi.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - DAY

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

Donna: He’s in his room. Good luck.

Nigel and Yindra exchange a look.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nigel: Get up.

Zay: Yo, what the hell --

Yindra: Damn, Nige.

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

Nigel: Bullshit.

Yindra: Damn, Nige.

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

Yindra: True.

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

Yindra: Also true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yindra, off-screen: You insult me!

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

Zay: Thanks for not leaving me behind.

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

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

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - LOBBY - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack: Yeah… yes, me too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. RILEY’S CAR - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

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

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

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

Isadora: And where is he now?

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

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

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

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

INT. NIGEL’S CAR - MOVING - DAY

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

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

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

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

Nigel: WHAT?

Zay: GREEN LIGHT. CARS MOVING.

Yindra: GO! GO! GO!

Nigel: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH --

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

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - BACKSTAGE - DAY

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

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

Brandon: Nice accommodations, aren’t they?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brandon: Yes… he is, isn’t he.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EXT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - ROOFTOP - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Isadora scoffs and rolls her eyes. 

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

Farkle, surprised: Excuse me?

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

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

With a sigh, Isadora sits down next to him. 

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

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

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

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

Farkle: One of?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Farkle, under his breath: Codependency...

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

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

She stands up and offers him a hand.

Isadora: Will you come downstairs and participate now?

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

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - PARKING GARAGE - DAY

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

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

Yindra: [ slamming the car door ] No time!

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

Yindra: THEN GET A TICKET.

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

Zay: Um, guys --

Nigel: Zay --

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

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

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

Yindra: Oh, for fuck’s sake.

EXT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DAY

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

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

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

Yindra/Zay: NOT NOW.

Zay: Go, go, go!

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

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

Maya: Wow. Is that what I sound like?

Yogi: Most of the time, yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riley slides over and pulls him into a tight hug.

Riley: I’m so glad you came.

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

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

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

Jade: Okay, now we’re ready to roll.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nigel, boldly: Jade.

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

Jade: … yes?

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

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

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

Jade: … yeah?

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

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

Nigel: I like you.

Jade: Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

Jade: … I like quiet…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maya: Well.

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

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

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

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

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

Riley: Ditto. [ breathy ] I love you.

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

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

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

LET’S GO!

Break 2.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - LOBBY - DAY

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

Charlie: Hi.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another beat of hesitancy… and then Zay nods.

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

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

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

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

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

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

Everything is beautiful up here in the clouds!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remember my name!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If I was a man… then I’d be the man…

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

Eric: They did everything for this by themselves?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

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

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

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

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

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

With the last couple of lines they break formation and return back to the places they started at the very beginning of the setlist, stomping in unison and hitting their final marks. Then they spin and drop their heads down as the stage lights go out, back where they started. As if they could wind up and do it all over again, just as spectacularly, in a New York minute. Like it’s easy.

But it’s not. We know how hard it is -- we know how hard they worked. And they did it. Somehow, regardless of what happens next, they did it.

The curtain lowers, nearly the whole house on their feet to give them thunderous applause.

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - DRESSING ROOM - DAY

The A class is celebrating and destressing in the dressing room, all buzzing with post-performance hype and the rush of a great show. Farkle and Maya stand together and hug each other tight, the latter clinging to him like an emotional support beanpole.

Farkle: Doesn’t matter now, does it? All that matters is we did a good job and had fun, right? Or whatever people say.

Maya: Screw that. If we don’t win, I’m burning this motherfucker down.

Zay and Charlie poke their heads in, earning uproarious reactions from all of them. Haley and Clarissa immediately rush to tackle Charlie with hugs, while Zay is swarmed with cheers and praise for his choreography. It all turned out fantastic!

Yindra: Not that there was ever any doubt.

Charlie finds a moment to get a word in, stating that he needs to go congratulate Haverford and check in with them, but he wanted to be able to tell them all the same. They were spectacular, and it was so awesome to get to see it. They all thank him, and there's this clear sense in the air that he should’ve been there with him. He belonged up there with them.

But alas. Charlie makes his exit just as the techies return, and he gives them compliments as well as they pass. Jade is also quickly laden with praise -- her costumes were perfect and definitely stole the show. Nate and Dave ambush Dylan, Asher, and Jeff, pulling them into a giant glom hug and losing their shit about how epic they were. Like, Jeff! Your dancing! And Asher, your Spanish!

Nate: I didn’t even realize you were part Latino.

Asher: … wait, seriously?

Dave: [ shaking Dylan’s shoulders happily ] And when you did the flip! And the backward flip!

Isadora watches them fondly, shaking her head, only looking away when she’s tapped on the shoulder. Chai is there, offering her a timid congratulations. They did it! And she did an amazing job with her solos.

Well, with all the extra hours she put in for her dancing… in a sudden move, Isadora reaches out and pulls Chai into a hug. Brief, but more than she allows or gives most people. It’s interesting, actually, how Chai manages to get her to do most things without thinking. Like a brashness she just brings out in her, or something.

But Chai doesn’t seem at all opposed. She’s surprised only for a moment, then she lightly returns the embrace, trying not to push it too far. When they pull away, Isadora’s touch lingers a bit longer than usual, like she isn’t sure what to do with her hands all the sudden.

Isadora: I couldn’t have joined and caught up without you, so. If I contribute at all to a victory, then it’s your contribution too.

Chai: In that case, I think we can call it a draw. [ off her confused look ] Without your friendship I wouldn’t have adjusted to coming back very well, or probably even thought to consider telling the A class about… you know, before it was almost forced out of me. And who knows where I’d be if all that were the case… anyway, I’m grateful. Funny how the most unexpected people change your life, huh?

Isadora: Yeah… it actually is.

Chai smiles, Isadora tentatively mirroring it.

Speaking of people who unexpectedly change everything… Lucas makes his way over to Riley, the latter brightening instantly when she sees him. She gives him a tight hug, and he lifts her off her feet momentarily before they break apart.

Riley: We pulled it off.

Lucas: If we manage to cinch this, you realize it’s all because of you, right? That entire thing, that was all you.

Riley, touched: … it was a team effort. But I suppose it won’t really mean much until we know.

Which could be any minute now… Riley touches his arm, getting his attention again.

Riley: I just want you to know I’m proud of you. No matter what happens with showdown.

Lucas: Again, it didn’t have much to do with me --

Riley: I’m not just talking about today. I’m talking about how you ran for president in spite of the odds, your initiative to make real change, how dedicated you are to putting them in motion. At Adams, but on your own. I know how far-off college and stuff felt to you during the summer, and now you’ve got submitted applications and new goals and a whole new future ahead of you. Not even new, but -- you’re finally seeing it, that potential that has always been there. I know that’s not nothing. I know how hard that was. But you did it. And even though it’s all stuff I knew you were capable of, every day you continue to blow me away. [ a beat ] It’s so good to see you starting to believe it too.

Wow. A lot to process, a lot of warm sentiment he wants to really take in and commit to memory forever. It’s difficult enough to process it, there’s no words in the world for him to respond with, so he settles for a smile and taking her hand instead. Lacing their fingers together, bonding them regardless of what might happen next.

Them against the world. Riley beams, squeezing his hand in return.

Perfect timing, too, because the time has come. A stagehand pops in and informs them it’s time for the announcement of the winners, beckoning them all onto stage. Yindra insists to Zay that he come with them for this -- he deserves to be up there just as much as they do.

Silence hangs over us as they head out…

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - BACKSTAGE HALL - DAY

The intrusive quiet follows as the A class makes their way through the backstage area, arriving back at the wings. All the anticipation of this final result building on our shoulders…

INT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The announcers are teeing up the big final reveal as the A class files out, Haverford populating the other side, but it’s all muffled and quiet around us. Brandon and Maya exchange a sharp glare. Yindra and Nigel each keep one of Zay’s arms around their shoulders, holding him steady as they take the stage. Lucas, Dave, Nate, and Jade hang back in the wings, Dave wrapping Jade in a hug from behind and propping his chin on her head.

Evelyn has joined us for the final reveal, the guest announcer who gets the distinct privilege as head of the school board to announce the victor. And what an honor it is! She gives a little speech about how it’s so clear both groups worked hard, put in the time and the effort, and have more than enough talent to spare. But alas, only one can win.

Evelyn: So let’s get to what you’re all waiting for -- the results. Without further ado, the winner of the 2020 Senior Showdown: Manhattan is…

It’s the most excruciating wait in the world. Zay clasps Riley’s shoulder from behind, squeezing tight. Haley links her arm tight with Clarissa’s and closes her eyes; Asher hides behind Dylan and tucks his head against his back, their hands clasped together. Maya reaches to take Farkle and Isadora’s hands, flanked on either side of her.

In the audience, Harper grips both Jack and Eric’s arms, all of them on the edge of their seats. Charlie is alone in the back but rapt with attention, hands clasped together in front of his mouth. He’s holding his breath, a prayer shining in his eyes -- but who he’s directing those wishes towards, it’s impossible to say…

And then in a moment, it’s done.

Evelyn: Congratulations to the talented seniors of Adams Academy for the Arts!

The chaos is instantaneous. The audience erupts into cheer as the A class breaks free from their paralysis, bursting into joyful hysteria. The Adams faculty leap out of their seats with equal elation, relieved and overwhelmed with pride. Now Angela isn’t the only one crying -- Eric and Harper have joined her with their own tears. Charlie applauds wildly, shouting out a cheer.

But nothing can compare to the mood within the class. It’s impossible to describe. Dylan picks up Asher and spins him around. Riley whips around and rams into Zay to hug him, shaking with excitement. Nigel runs off stage and pulls Jade out to join them, grasping her hand the entire time, and Dave and Nate eagerly follow. Darby, Chai, and Sarah jump in a hug together, and Yogi does a victory yodel.

Farkle pulls Isadora and Maya to him in a bone-crushing hug, before releasing the latter to go accept the trophy for Adams from the announcers. She faux graciously accepts the trophy and then turns to have a good, old-fashioned “good game” handshake with Brandon. They appear pleasant enough to the audience, but their grip on each other is vice tight.

Then the humility is over, the Haverford boys retreat, and Maya holds up the trophy for them all to see. VICTORY, BITCHES! They all swarm to center stage to meet her and it, dizzy with their change in fortune.

Except Riley. She heads in the opposite direction, marching into the wings straight for Lucas. She doesn’t hesitate the moment she reaches him, pulling him into a deep, enthusiastic kiss. Lucas returns it, too lost in the euphoria for a moment to be self-conscious, gripping her waist to keep her steady and pull her closer.

An undeniably beautiful moment -- save for the way Missy eyes it disdainfully from amidst the celebrating circle of her peers.

But even her potential jealousy can’t spoil the mood. They did it -- Adams Academy are the champions of senior showdown.

EXT. SHOWDOWN FINALS VENUE - NIGHT

Night has descended upon them over the course of the event, the driveway and streets around the venue bright with headlights as ride shares and drivers make their way home.

Charlie is standing in the cold evening air, hands stuffed in his pockets and breath creating steam in front of him. He perks up when he spots who he’s waiting for, Brandon emerging from the building and descending the steps. His expression is grim in the wake of Haverford’s loss, and it doesn’t bounce back to its usual crisp confidence quite so effortlessly when he finds Charlie at the bottom of the steps.

Brandon: Charles. Don’t see any reason for you to be hanging around this late -- considering you weren’t a participant.

Charlie: Yeah, I know. I just wanted… I was hoping to catch you before you left. You weren’t in the room when I caught up with the boys before the results, so…

So. Brandon grants him a moment, standing opposite him and raising his eyebrows. Go on. Charlie clears his throat.

Charlie: I wanted to say how great I thought you guys were. You killed the set. And “Sherry” was a great choice. I’m sorry I doubted it.

Brandon: Not good enough, apparently. But thank you.

Charlie: … it’s okay that you didn’t win. I hope you know that. Six years is a heavy burden to carry on your shoulders. At least now you’re free of it, right?

Brandon: I suppose that’s one way to look at ending a proud tradition every senior class before you has pulled off seamlessly. Though I can’t deny the A class gave an impressive showing. [ a beat ] Interesting, how they completely reset their entire performance. It was nothing like what I’d heard about it.

Oop. For just an instant, Charlie panics, but he recovers quickly.

Charlie: Yeah, well, Riley told me they just felt like they needed to switch things up. Get a fresh start, you know? Kind of like your thinking with “Sherry.” Safe doesn’t win showdown, right?

Brandon: [ not buying it ] Sure.

Either way, Charlie thinks they did well, and they have nothing to be ashamed of for not winning. He’ll do his best to try and bolster spirits on Monday. A charming offer, one which Brandon merely nods to acknowledge. For now, at least in the immediate aftermath of stinging failure, the new kid warmth he displayed towards Charlie is long gone.

Still, he can’t relinquish having the last word. After Charlie bids him goodnight and starts down the sidewalk, Brandon suddenly calls after him.

Brandon: Charles.

Charlie stops, turning to look at him again. Not sure what to expect -- a reprimand? The fabled dark side everyone keeps alluding to? Maybe a thank you for his kind words?

Brandon offers none of the above. He maintains his chilly demeanor but infuses it with his usual suave delivery, giving him another nod.

Brandon: Enjoy the rest of your weekend.

To Charlie, this simply seems nice. A good sign if nothing else. He smiles, then continues on his journey home. But when Brandon spins back to face the street, his expression is far from pleasant.

Perhaps he’s granting Charlie one last courtesy. He should enjoy this weekend as much as he can -- afterwards, perhaps enjoyment may not be so easy to find.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Sunday morning, bright and early, the school is more populated than usual. A small group is present to watch HARLEY KEINER unlock the trophy case and load their new one into it, placing it front and center with the utmost care. Jack is there to supervise, while Lucas, Dylan, and Asher came to witness the moment for themselves.

Dylan: Thanks for your service, sir.

Harley: Oh, no no, thank you. It’s been too many years since I got to update the display with this bad boy -- props to you folks for bringing him home.

And what a happy homecoming it is! Lucas steps forward to look for himself, the gleaming proof of his victory staring back at them. Representative of all the money about to come their way, to fund his initiative at least for a time.

He can’t help but grin, spinning back around to face the others. He loftily holds his arms out, sauntering forward and giving a cheeky bow. Then another, really milking the moment. Dylan and Asher break into theatrical applause, allowing him the silliness.

Lucas: Thank you, thank you very much.

They meet him in the middle and both throw their arms around his shoulders, and Lucas doesn’t shy away from the contact. Dylan starts playfully singing the chorus “We Are the Champions,” Asher quickly harmonizing, and even Lucas joins in as they amble towards the doors.

Lucas/Dylan/Asher: No time for losers, cause we are the champions!

Dylan: OF THE WOOOOOOORLD --

Jack watches them go, amused at their antics. Soaking in the moment of pride, of peace, in the school that despite its hell, he loves more than anything. He crosses his arms and meanders his way back to his office, humming the Queen song to himself as if it’s contagious.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Despite it not being anywhere near the way he imagined it, Zay finally submits his application to Turner. And this time in facing it he’s not alone, Yindra and Nigel both plopped on the bed next to him and encouraging him to do it right up until the moment it’s official.

He thanks them for everything, acknowledging Nigel’s argument that he’s glad he didn’t miss showdown. Nigel agrees it’s definitely going to be something they remember for a long time, especially now with the sweet addition of victory.

Yindra: Um, yeah, and how am I ever gonna forget your big speech to Jade? Like hello?

Zay: It was pretty ballsy. We might have to tell him about the contingency plan.

Yindra: Ooh… are we sure? Do we think he’s ready?

Nigel: What plan?

Yindra: We need a Michelle, Zay. Do we think he has what it takes to be a Michelle?

Nigel: To be a whomst?

Yindra and Zay exchange a conspiratorial look. Yindra claims this is their big plan for success, if their own solo endeavors don’t pan out.

Zay: So. Destiny’s Child --

INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - NIGHT

Farkle is meeting with DR. MICHELLE HAN again after a week or so of avoiding her, in his usual spot on the couch. But this time he’s sitting upright, and he’s got company -- both STUART MINKUS and JENNIFER MINKUS are with him. Nervous but resolute, Farkle claims that he’s ready to discuss the bipolar diagnosis further, especially in figuring out where they go from here and what he can do to live with it.

Dr. Han is pleased, happy to oblige. She tells him she’s glad he came around to it on his own terms, then begins to discuss the nuances of the condition. Jennifer glances to Farkle next to her, placing her hand on his forearm and giving it a supportive squeeze.

INT. YINDRA’S CHURCH - NIGHT

Charlie enters a large church we recognize as Yindra’s, only much more empty on a weekday evening than Sunday morning. The lights are all on, and there are various people dotted around. The PASTOR, an elderly black man with a wise aura and mischievous gleam in his eyes, is talking pleasantly with two elderly ladies to the side.

They eye Charlie as he walks past them towards the rows of seats. He has a lightness about him that wasn’t there the last time we saw him in his own church, but there are still remnants of his usual anxious state.

He walks up to the stage that Yindra and the gospel choir performed on and stops in the forestage. There are three banners decorating the wall in front of him, in white, purple and blue, featuring the cross, ichthys, and a flame. A very different vibe from his usual Catholic church, but comforting all the same.

Once he’s free of the church ladies, the pastor approaches Charlie.

Pastor: Hello, young man. What brings you here at this time of night? 

Charlie: Hi. Sorry if I’m intruding at all. [ off his nod of reassurance ] I came here the other week with my friend Yindra -- Yindra Amino, in the choir?

Pastor: Ah, yes. I know the Aminos quite well. Yindra is a lovely girl.

Charlie: I’m Catholic, but it just seemed so happy and… cool here, so I… well, I have something I need to say to God, and I ended up here. I hope that’s okay. 

Pastor: Of course. We welcome everybody, always. [ with a warm smile ] I’ll leave you and the big guy to it.

He gives him a fatherly pat on the shoulder, then leaves him be. Charlie takes a moment to collect his thoughts, looking up at the banners, and then kneels down. He takes his silver cross necklace out from under his clothes and holds onto the cross with one hand. 

Charlie: God… [ with a sigh ] It’s been a long semester. And a long summer. Kind of a long life, to be honest. And lately I’ve been having to do a lot of self-reflection. I keep finding myself in these moments where I have to… make a tough call. Or get to the right decision. Do the right thing. And every time I think to myself maybe you’d just give me the answer, that these choices could be simple, but I get that they aren’t. They aren’t supposed to be. It shouldn’t be that easy to define who you are — you need a test, sometimes, to prove it. And while I feel like I’ve had my fair share of that, I get why you couldn’t just show me the way. I had to find it for myself. I have to get there on my own. I can’t expect you to give me guidance if I’m not ready for it. But I’m getting there, now, and… and part of that is...

Tell us who you are.

He takes a deep breath, and exhales.

Charlie: I’m gay. [ with a nervous chuckle ] But you already knew that, didn’t you? You’ve always known exactly who I am. It’s me who’s been playing catch up.

Charlie pauses, fiddling with the chain of his necklace. He’s not sure what he’s waiting for -- the lightning strike, maybe -- but nothing comes. Of course it doesn’t. He releases another breath, easier now, and continues.

Charlie: I’m starting to understand who I am. And who you are, too. I’m beginning to trust my own decisions, and put who and what I value most above my own comfort or ease. There’s still a lot to figure out, I know, and I’m a long way from the person I’m meant to be… but I feel like I’m on the right path. [ with more soft confidence ] I pray that you’ll be with me on that journey, and that you’ll continue to guide me. I’m sorry for blocking this part of me from you for so long. I’m going to try and be my authentic self as much as I can from now on — I’m starting to realize it’s not worth being anything else. [ quietly ] Amen.

He stands up and takes a moment, then heads back towards the church’s entrance. He can’t help the corners of his mouth turning up; a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, but he’s trying not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere of the building.

The pastor catches him before he leaves, asking if he managed to tell God what he needed to. 

Charlie: I did, thank you. 

Pastor, tactfully: Forgive me if it’s not my place to ask, but... is your church accepting of the LGBTQ+ community?

Charlie’s eyes go wide. 

Charlie: How did you…? 

Pastor: Call it a natural instinct… my husband tells me it’s called ‘gaydar?’

Charlie processes this new information. Both of them almost want to laugh -- it’s just a little bit funny, a unique kind of levity, spotting another religious gay in the wild -- then he shakes his head to his question. 

Charlie: I grew up in a pretty strict household and church. 

Pastor: Hm, I see. I’m aware of several Christian LGBTQ+ communities and churches in the city, if you’d be interested? 

Charlie: I don’t know if… actually, yeah. That’d be really nice, thank you. 

Pastor: I’ll put together a little list for you and tell Yindra to Snapchat it over to you. [ off his dubious expression ] Or whatever you kids are using now. Don’t look at me like that, I’m old.

Charlie thanks him with a laugh, at ease and genuinely happy. The pastor bids him farewell as he heads to the double doors with stained glass windows, through which the lights outside shine through, creating a pastel prism of color on the hardwood floor.

EXT. YINDRA’S CHURCH - NIGHT

Charlie steps back out into the night, closing his eyes and inhaling the frigid air. A light rain has started to fall, the whole world seeming to shine around him. It’s refreshing, invigorating -- or maybe that’s just the freedom of what he just did. It might all be in his head, it might not, but what it means to him is the realest thing there is.

He releases the breath he’s been holding for years, a light smile blooming on his face.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Party For One” as performed by Carly Rae Jepsen || Performed by Charlie Gardner

There was no way we were going to get through the entire midseason finale without Charlie performing. It wouldn’t be right. And he’s truly earned it this time, the uplifting percussion that kicks off the number almost heaven-sent.

He starts the vocals softly, breathing them out like his monumental exhale. Then he gets moving, hands still in his pockets, walking backwards along the sidewalk in step with the beat. His excitement builds through the verse and pre-chorus until he just can’t hold it in anymore. When the beat drops and the first chorus really hits, he breaks free, pulling his hands from his pockets and spinning into a dance.

He dances solo, unrestrained, continuing his journey as he goes. It’s energetic contemporary, skillful as always, and laced with that same frenetic melodrama that has defined his previous performances in his imagination. Only this time it’s joy -- pure, uninhibited joy -- that pumps that passion through his movements.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Charlie carries on through the streets, loosening up as he goes. He unbuttons his coat, holds his arms out to soak in the rain. He runs his hands through his hair to brush the wetness from it, mussing it up in the process from the neatly combed way he’s been wearing it for weeks. Around him the city is a kaleidoscope, shimmering jewels in the night of reds, blues, purples, and gold.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - NIGHT

By the second verse, he’s made it to Central Park, launching back into his fun and free choreography. He dances along benches, swings on lampposts like Singin’ in the Rain, and gets mud on his pants from slipping and sliding in the grass.

A little messy, but he doesn’t care. Why should he care when he’s free?

EXT. AAA - NIGHT

By the time he reaches the final minute, he’s arrived at the steps of Adams, closed and empty for the night but still brightly lit and welcoming. Inviting, like the feeling of standing on your doorstep after a long journey home.

And this is where Charlie truly lets loose, the gleaming structure of AAA acting as the backdrop to his final expression of liberation. The dancing is really impressive now, spins and kicks and a couple of splits sprinkled in, but what’s most compelling about it is how much feeling it conveys. It’s hard to recognize you haven’t seen someone be authentic until you actually do, and that’s how this performance feels. His coat abandoned on the steps, his hair wild and free, skin glowing with rainwater and finally back on his beat.

This is Charlie’s showcase moment. And finally, the only audience that matters is himself.

I’ll just dance for myself, back on my beat!

When he wraps the rendition he lowers himself down into a slippery recline on the steps, breathing heavy but so worth it. He leans back on his palms, tilting his head up to the rain, to the stars, to whatever lies beyond waiting for him. Then he smiles, easy and effortless, laughing a bit to himself as the weather soaks him clean.

INT. HART APARTMENT - NIGHT

Katy, Maya, and Isadora are sharing the remnants of a pizza at their new kitchen counter, taking a dinner break from unpacking and starting to arrange the space. Katy reminds her that she absolutely does not need to hang around and help, but Isadora claims she doesn’t mind. She likes it, actually, and it’s exciting to see what they do with the place. But she actually should get going tonight -- school day tomorrow, and Eric will be wondering where she is.

As she gathers her things to head out, Katy suggests they grab breakfast at the diner tomorrow morning before school to celebrate. Her treat, for old times sake. As flattered as Isadora is by that offer, she can’t. She has a meeting she can’t miss first thing in the morning, but rain check. She doesn’t want to pass that up.

Katy and Maya bid her farewell, then descend into excited giggles as they launch onto their couch. Katy comments on how wonderful the view is too from this new apartment -- miles above their old one, anyway. Maybe everything happens for a reason… but God, is it good to be back with her girl. Especially one who is now a champion.

Maya grins, hugging her again and cuddling close. She tells her she’s so glad she’s home, more than she could ever express.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT

Riley is on her bed, the room starting to look a bit different as Maya’s stuff disappears. She’s got her laptop open, application for Tisch NYU the last one she has left to submit. Only hours left to decide if she’s going to go for it or not, if pursuing the arts for real is something she even wants to try.

CORY MATTHEWS knocks on the door, making a witty comment about how now that Maya is gone, maybe it’s time to switch rooms back… Riley claims they may as well just wait until she goes to college, right? Not worth all that effort to do it now when she’ll just move again in six months… Cory gives her a look, but he can’t help but smile at the same time. Clever girl…

He makes a point of congratulating her again, making sure she knows how proud he is of her.

Cory: Every day, I’m impressed with what a strong, mature, and clear leader you’ve become. I can’t wait to see all the amazing things you’re going to do next.

Riley smiles, touched. She climbs off her bed and swiftly rushes across the room to give him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, thanking him, then darts back to her space before he can respond. He gives her another playful head shake, wishing her goodnight.

Once alone, it’s just her and the application. She hesitates for a moment longer, thinking on it… what does she have to lose?

Decisively, she hits submit. Putting the potential out there for good. No turning back now.

Riley, pre-lap: I did it. I smashed that submit button. It’s out there now.

INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT

Riley and Zay are meeting at Chubbies for late weekend celebratory fries, even more necessary now with her brand new update. Zay congratulates her and expresses confidence that she’s got as good a chance of getting into Tisch as any of them -- and yes, that includes Maya. He raises his water glass to cheers their future endeavors, Riley matching it enthusiastically.

The mood is somewhat disrupted when Charlie walks through the door, spotting them in their usual booth. This time, though, the sight doesn’t immediately make him think of retreat -- in fact, it seems like exactly what he was hoping for.

He quickly approaches their table, greeting both of them. Riley is surprised by his presence but not at all opposed… although his appearance is a bit questionable. Has he just been standing around in the rain? His hair is a windswept, slick mess, but there’s no mud on his clothes, so at least that part of his freedom dance wasn’t quite so literal.

Riley: Do you want to sit down? I know you like fries, so --

Charlie: [ still a bit out of breath ] Actually, I was hoping to catch a second with Zay. [ glancing at him ] If that’s okay?

Unexpected, certainly. Riley looks to Zay as well, gauging his reaction, trying to determine if she should stay or go. Zay eyes Charlie curiously, uncertain though far less apprehensive than in the recent past… then nods. He signals to Riley it’s okay, and she gets up to give them privacy without complaint. Charlie thanks her, touching her arm and congratulating her once again, before sliding into her vacated spot across from Zay.

For a moment, it’s hard to speak. No matter how much either of them want to, how often they think about it when they’re not around, the moment they’re in front of each other again it’s like everything stops. Like they’re frozen in time, still cold in the aftermath of a mistaken first time. A choked surrender in the costume loft. A blindsiding separation without a proper goodbye.

But time keeps going. They get older, they learn, they grow -- and there’s no doubt that both of them have done a painful amount of growing in the last few months. The only question now is if they can catch up to each other and find common ground; if they can find a new way forward as they are now, or if they even should.

And to do that, they have to speak. Zay clears his throat, eyeing his rain-soaked attire.

Zay: So, did you forget your umbrella, or were you just wandering around in the rain again --

Charlie: I don’t want to do this anymore.

Oh. Well, that can sure mean a lot of things, Charlie. Zay goes silent, watching him warily to see where this is going to go. He’s not even sure himself, really, what he wants to hear. Thankfully, Charlie didn’t seem intent on stopping it there, letting out a sigh and composing his thoughts before elaborating.

Charlie: I just mean… being a million miles apart. Existing like we’re in different worlds. Maybe when all this started we -- I -- needed that. To feel like I was doing what I set out to do, to become independent and figure all my stuff out on my own without bringing you down with me. Because that’s why I did it. I know you already know that, but it took me some time to stop convincing myself otherwise. [ a beat, looking down at his hands ] At first, I really thought I was doing the right thing. The thing that was best for everyone, that would allow me to fix everything. But I wasn’t really fixing anything. I think I was just doing what I always do. Running.

Zay listens patiently, not betraying anything. Letting Charlie have the time to work through it, to say what he needs to say. Charlie meets his eyes.

Charlie: And I know I screwed everything up, making those choices without you. [ shaky ] I know I hurt you, and… [ fiercely ] and I hate that I did. I hope you’ll believe that the last thing I ever, ever wanted to do was hurt you.

Zay’s calm demeanor cracks slightly, betraying that exact hurt flaring up again. But it doesn’t hurt the same way anymore. It’s healed over, a dull ache that with the right treatment and a little more time will recover.

Charlie dips his head down, doing his best to keep it together and not do something unhelpful like cry. He clears his throat, taking another deep breath and finding his resolve. He meets his eyes again, not letting himself run anymore.

Charlie: But I did. I did, and I’m sorry. Sincerely, from the bottom of my heart. I made some serious mistakes, and I know I’m going to have to live with them forever. You and I... we’re always going to carry that with us. We’re always going to have this history, the good and the bad. It’s never going to just go back to how it was before.

True enough. Zay nods, acknowledging it. Then, would they really want it to? Would they want to trade it all away for a fresh start, if it meant taking the good moments too?

Charlie: Even still… I wouldn’t change it. Because I can’t imagine what life would be like -- what I would be like -- if none of it ever happened. And no matter what’s changed since, the mistakes I’ve made… a million years ago, before all this started, I told you that I couldn’t lose you. That you were too important to lose. Now I know I was right. [ with a weak smile ] I don’t want to keep doing this, stumbling through life without you.

It’s getting harder and harder to remain neutral. Zay sniffs, swiping at his lips and trying to maintain his composure. Charlie isn’t looking away now, taking him in as much as he can while he makes his appeal.

Charlie: And maybe it’s selfish, which is exactly what caused all this in this first place, but I don’t care. If there’s one thing I’ll allow myself a little selfishness for, it’s this. That’s my new choice. You were one of my best friends, and you’re one of my favorite people. [ a beat ] And I totally get if this isn’t enough, or if it’s too much, and you’d just rather not. But is there any chance we can just… try? Try to find our rhythm again, be friends again? [ delicate ] Because I know the world needs you, but I really miss Zay Babineaux.

If Charlie uncharacteristically had a lot to say, then it only makes sense for Zay to have nothing. He’s speechless, absorbing everything Charlie said and trying to keep his emotions in check while grappling with that same question he’s been struggling with for weeks. If things aren’t completely broken, if they can be even remotely repaired, then is it worth the risk of letting him back in so they can fix it? Is that something he wants? Does it even feel possible, considering all their history and how frozen they’ve felt before?

But all of that was daunting when Charlie remained a question mark, when his feelings and opinions were kept behind that protective shell he works hard to maintain. Now, now that he’s said it and put himself out there, there’s no more guessing what Charlie wants. And when he knows where Charlie stands on it, on them, his decision is suddenly easy.

Zay: I could be down for trying. [ unable to hold back a small smile ] I’d really like that. Believe it or not, I missed Charlie Gardner.

The relieved smile that consumes Charlie’s features is instant, a laugh escaping him. Not because anything is funny, but because he can finally breathe again. The world has thawed around them, allowing time to resume and for both of them to move forward.

And what that means for them, well, only time will tell.

Riley slowly creeps her way back towards the booth, apologizing for interrupting but claiming she’s starving and absolutely needs to eat a fry or she’ll collapse. Charlie and Zay crack up, gesturing for her to rejoin them officially. She beams, feeding off their infectious energy that only freedom can conjure, and slides back into the booth next to Zay.

Charlie brings up an epic moment from their showdown performance and they quickly launch into excited chatter, the rapport between the three of them finally at ease. The way it was always meant to be -- hopefully, the way it will be forever more.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Isadora arrives at school bright and early, having come in with Eric rather than her classmates for a change. She knocks on Jack’s office door and enters as soon as she hears the beginnings of a response. Patience may not be her strong suit.

Jack is already busy with work, but sets his focus entirely on Isadora when she sits down across from him. Her face is set, that classic De La Cruz fierceness and determination clear. 

Jack: Eric mentioned you wanted to see me. How can I help you, Miss De La Cruz? 

Isadora: I’m here to discuss the possibility of setting up a scholarship fund in my mother’s name.

Jack’s eyebrows raise in surprise. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. Before he can respond to the proposition, Isadora continues.

Isadora: As you’re aware, I have inherited a large sum of money from my mother upon her passing. 

Jack, gently: Isadora, you don’t need to be so formal with me. This isn’t a business meeting.

Isadora sighs in relief, allowing her posture to relax. 

Isadora: I’ve been struggling with what to do with my mom’s money for a while now, and I realized when I was helping Katy and Maya move into their new apartment that I should use it in a way that Valerie would support. [ waiting for Jack to nod in acknowledgement before continuing ] My mom loved this school, how it fosters the next round of talent. She often dropped hints to me that she’d like to be a guest teacher more regularly -- 

Jack: [ caught off guard ] Did she? She never mentioned anything to me or Eric… 

Isadora, fondly: It was part of her plan for moving to New York. But my point is, a scholarship fund is exactly what Valerie would want her money to go towards. Helping bring up the round of superstars, particularly ones like Maya who can’t necessarily access it on their own. That’s how she started out too, you know, not coming from much. She made her own luck, but I don’t think she’d even blink if she had the chance to help someone else achieve those same dreams without half the struggle. It feels right. Plus, it’ll help keep Lucas and Maya’s new legislation intact without having to rely on winning showdown every single year. Haverford are… tough competition.

That’s one way to describe them. Jack nods as he thinks it over, keen on the idea. He can’t see any reason why it can’t happen. 

Jack: Sounds like an excellent idea to me. I’m sure Lucas and Maya will be pleased too. [ a beat ] Well done for coming to such a wise decision on your own. Valerie would be proud of you, I’m sure. And so am I.

Isadora is touched by the sentiments, and gets up from her chair to hurry around to his side of the desk. She gives him a quick hug, taking him by surprise. 

Isadora: Thank you. For always being there for me. You and Eric mean a lot to me. [ a beat ] Well, um… bye. I guess.

She offers him an awkward wave as she walks back around his desk and towards the door. Jack is still frozen in surprise from Isadora’s hug and gratitude, knowing full well how much that means. He smiles at her, happy that she seems to trust him.

Jack’s uplifted mood doesn’t last long though. Yancy appears in the doorway just as Isadora is leaving, the two of them nearly bumping into each other. He shoots a subtle glare at her, but she doesn’t back down easily, so she glares right back at him until she passes.

Yancy: Quite the attitude on that one. Seems that might be a trend here at Adams.

Jack: Looks can be deceiving. Isadora just helped arrange for a fund to support the new scholarships in full, for many, many years. [ pointedly ] If humanity has any hope, I believe it’s in the youth. They certainly demonstrate much greater compassion than I’ve observed lately.

Yancy: Oh, then I suppose we both have good news, then.

Yancy clasps his hands together, looking all too pleased to be delivering this news. Jack braces himself for the worst.

Yancy: I submitted my report last week, and the board has reached their verdict. Effective January 1st, the role of principal will officially be open to apply for at Adams Academy for the Arts. I myself am planning to submit for consideration -- I think I could do more here than the school board at this point, considering the disastrous status of the school at present.

Jack’s heart sinks. He’s not being fired, but it’s al\most worse this way, dangling it in front of his face and making him do tricks like a show pony to prove he deserves to keep the position. He’s out of words, clenching his jaw and choosing not to give Yancy the satisfaction of a response. But he hardly needs one -- Yancy’s smugness is detectable from a mile away.

Yancy: You are, of course, welcome to reapply to keep your position, Jackson. In fact, I encourage it -- the board deserves the opportunity to reject you outright. [ a beat ] Until then, I suggest you start considering alternatives. You may very well be saying goodbye to Adams with your precious senior A class by the time this school year concludes.

With that, there’s nothing left to say. Yancy spins and leaves Jack to grapple with this info bomb on his own, at least giving him the dignity of reacting on his own.

Jack gets to his feet, closing the door behind Yancy. Then he finds himself slowly leaning against it, like all the energy has been zapped right out of him. His jaw twitches, eyes glossing over, like everything he’s been balancing and building up barricades against for years is about to break through and totally overrun him…

But he takes a deep breath, steels himself, and releases it with a sigh. Right now, there’s work to be done. Things to see through. And when the time comes to face the prospects, well, he’ll deal with it then.

Straightening up and clearing his throat, Jack moves back to his desk and settles in his chair. Back to work, doing what needs to be done as principal.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The A class is gathered for their first class since the weekend, all still chatty and buzzy with excitement from their victory. They’re up on the stage, chatting in small clusters about their performance and complimenting one another on their finest moments. Dylan and Asher in particular are huddled with Jade, gossiping about what happened with Nigel and what she thinks their first date is going to be.

But they snap back to attention when Harper and Shawn enter, the former enthusiastically taking the stage and greeting them as the Manhattan Showdown champs. This earns a loud cheer, Harper offering her own applause and letting them soak up the pride. Then she goes on to explain just how proud of them she is, how inspired she is by what they pulled off, and how remarkably moving it was to watch them come together to create something irrefutably them.

Harper: As you all surely remember, I was a bit out of my element when I came here last year. I thought I knew Triple A, but you all were another brand entirely. And you didn’t make easy on me -- or yourselves -- so I always wondered how you’d manage to pull this off. Now I realize it was silly of me to doubt. You, the senior A class, are full of unexpected surprises -- and I think that might just be your greatest strength.

Hear, hear! As for assignments this week, it’s the last week before winter break, so Harper admits she doesn’t really know what they should do either. After such a crazy few weeks, she feels like they’ve been tested enough.

As it turns out, maybe no reason is exactly the thing they need to perform right now. Riley says as much, sharing her thinking that while the rush of the last few weeks have been exciting, it’s been a minute since any of them just got to sing for the joy of it. Which is a shame, a travesty, considering that’s why all of them are at this school, in this place, together. Love of the art.

So that’s what they do. For the first time in months, the A class breaks into song because they want to. Because they can. Because it unites all of them, even when there’s no pressure or thing to fight for.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “To Noise Making (Sing)” as performed by Hozier || Performed by AAA Seniors

Riley kicks us off, singing happily to her classmates as she stands at the center of the stage. She makes her way around and shares a little moment with all of them, gradually pulling all of them into the harmonies, until she’s got the collective singing along. From there, her classmates step up to share focus, Zay, Maya, Isadora, Chai, and Yindra just a few of the notable ones to take a solo for a couple lines. Farkle takes the bridge, accepting an affectionate side hug from Riley as he does.

Harper and Shawn watch from the back of the front center section, swaying and grooving along. Eric has come to join them, but he can tell something is missing. He glances over his shoulder towards the doors, looking for Jack, but he’s nowhere to be found.

Then the A class comes together, all making their way into a closer formation at center stage. Nigel takes Jade’s hand and pulls her gently into the group, twirling her under his arm. Riley makes sure Lucas gets included in the throng, though this time he hardly seems reluctant, throwing his arm around her shoulders. He’s not singing, mind you, but here’s there in the moment with the rest of them.

And that’s where we leave them as we close out this half-season. The united A class, exhausted but still going strong, vindicated victors, brimming with unbelievable potential for the future.

Can’t wait to see what happens next.

END OF EPISODE.

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

Seen ✓ - 2

Pairing: Sam x Fem!Reader Warnings: light anxiety Word Count: 2.2k Series Summary: On her way home, Y/n finds an abandoned, cracked phone on the sidewalk. Anxious about the well-being of its owner, she picks it up and texts the first contact she finds; Sam. A/N: Chapter 2! Our pals are kicking it off already. Can you smell the chemistry? The rOMANCE? LESSGO

Pictures used in this chapter were found on google images :)

Beta: no one.

Catch up! : Part 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2: overthinker.

From: y/n_andrews85 To: D_impala67 Subject: I have your phone. That sounds creepy. I don’t think there’s a non-creepy way of writing this. Whatever.

Dear Dean, is it?

I just wanted to let you know I found your phone at the bus stop the other night. I wasn’t planning on holding on to it, really, but I got worried that you may have been in trouble, and then you never really looked for it either so, I don’t know, I figured better than someone who’ll snatch it and leave, you know?

Anyways, that’s why I’m emailing. I snooped through it a little, sorry, hopefully you’ll understand it was kinda necessary? Maybe we can arrange something so I can get it back to you. This girl, Jamie, keeps sending me (well you technically) topless photos of her. It’s not really what lights my candle. I’m assuming you’d like it back too.

I hope you’re safe. Looking forward to hearing back from you!

Y/n Andrews

-

Do you believe me now?

oh god

you didn’t

Sure did

wow. just wow.

you just handed his ass back to him holy shit!

last time he called, he said he dropped his phone while walking back to his motel, so

he’s okay.

That’s good, I’m glad he’s safe.

I was planning on including something along the lines of “This would’ve been easier if you were an active member of the 21st century and used social media”

But I figured the Jamie thing was motive enough?

yeah. topless Jamie? that’s something else.

Don’t be getting any ideas, dude, I don’t do nudes lmao.

oh god, no i didn’t think that

you did not just type lmao though. how old are you again?

oh god, you’re not 14 or something right? i don’t know what that would make me.

Don’t worry about it, I turned 16 last week.

…

are you serious?

Lmao, no, I’m kidding. I’m twenty-two.

But I think the word you’re looking for is a creep. Oh, and an ageist.

ouch.

Haha, I’m joking.

Lighten up, what are you, ninety?

hi pot meet kettle.

Shit I walked right into that one.

also i’d like to think i don’t text like a ninety-year-old man. could be wrong though

to answer your question i’m twenty-four.                                

Twenty-four huh? I assume you’re done with college, no?

Or- wait, I guess not everyone goes to college.

Yes, this is me fishing for information.

well… i kinda dropped out.

decided to go on a road trip with my brother.

things went a little south I ended up continuing the family business.

Damn, college drop-out ey? Where from?

Also, Family business? What do you do?

Is this too interview-y? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to snoop.

you’re good.

stanford. pre-law.

and my brother and i are private investigators. that’s why he’s not in Kansas with me. he’s working a case.

Daaaaamn. Stanford AND a lawyer? And now working as a PI? You’re pretty smart, then.

an ageist and a generalist? i didn’t take you for such y/n.

Fuck, okay, you sound like a lawyer too.

hahahah

so what about you?

What about me?

are you in college?

Oh yeah! Film school. My dream has always been to be a director. It’s rare to find someone who loves movies more than I do.

that’s really cool.

hey i’ve been meaning to ask.

Thinking of me, Sam?

…

Do tell.

how come you were walking home through a park in the middle of the night the other day?

Ooh, I was coming back from work.

I’m a bartender and I had a late shift on Friday.

oh I see. That makes sense yeah.

I’m sorry to cut this conversation short, but I’m legitimately three seconds away from falling asleep. I’m gonna hit the hay.

See you later, Sam :)

See you, y/n :)

A smile creeps on Y/n’s features at the thought of more conversations with Sam. He has given her something to look forward to, something to make her a little more excited during her boring every-day life. As she tucks herself in under her covers, eyelids heavy enough to droop involuntarily, the last thing she thinks of is him, the clever, sassy, twenty-four year old college dropout on the other side of the cracked phone screen. The overwhelming urge to get to know him overtakes her as she succumbs to sleep

--

So

Do you believe in ghosts?

that’s… random.

May be

why do you ask?

Idk, just wanna get to know you better.

that’s what you ask people you want to get to know better?

Yes?

Are you avoiding the question?

no

i do. believe in ghosts.

You?

So do i.

Well, sorta. I guess I believe in souls more than anything.

hm?

Well… I guess I hope (more than believe) that we are more than our corporeal selves.

In the sense that, it’s comforting to me that when we die, and our bodies stop working, we don’t evaporate.

I guess.

yeah I understand.

i don’t know. i guess i wanna believe in science more than anything but i know better.

How do you mean?

call it a hunch.

Oh c’mon, it’s gotta be more than that.

Sam…?

Y/n huffs out a breath, gnawing at her lip. She hopes her anxiety isn’t right, that Sam isn’t sick of her silly questions and existential dread, and is actually doing something. Perhaps his battery ran out.

...Sure.

She was doing something too, before she decided to text him. Eyes falling on all her books and notes, spread around her like ugly, depressing, anxiety-inducing flower petals. There’s a blanket over her legs, chilly fall weather seeping through her bones, and there’s a half empty pizza box in front of her. She’s full and the left overs are kept for her sister, Emily, who’s currently locked up in her room.

Damn it. Y/n is stressed and tired, and now her distraction is refusing to reply. This sucks. She hates the crawling, awful, gooey feeling of cold anxiety gripping every beat of her heart and stupidly convincing her he’s purposefully ghosting her, because he doesn’t like her.

Not knowing what to occupy herself with, she heads to take a shower. In the back of her head, she knows that she’ll probably not study any longer, so she takes it upon herself to sink under the hot water and wash thoroughly, trying to get her mind off Dean’s phone. When her feet step out of the shower and she has towel-dried herself as best as she can, she tosses her wet hair in a haphazard bun, and gets dressed.

Books stack under the rickety, stained coffee table, and she grabs her sketchbook, her favorite pencil, as well as her and Dean’s phone. She shoots Connor a text, arranging a hang out of some kind, and opens her little booklet, when a text vibrates Dean’s phone.

hey i’m sorry i got caught up in something.

It’s alright.

She doesn’t press the ghost subject, because he doesn’t seem into it and she really doesn’t wanna make him dislike her any more than he possibly already does.

The empty page of her sketchbook daunts her. With a tight grip on her mechanical pencil, she urges her creativity pumps to use some gasoline, but they seem limp and dead, and once more unwilling to help her. As her eyes fall on Dean’s phone, like a light bulb out of a cartoon, she gets an idea.

Hey, this might sound creepy, but what do you look like?

She stares at the phone. This feels like a risky question. God, if he wasn’t done with her before, he certainly must be now. But then, he surprises her.

why do you wanna know?

I’m in the mood to sketch some, and my creativity has officially left the building.

Care to help a girl out? Maybe your literary descriptions will spark something in me lmao.

i didn’t know you sketched.

Yeah, sometimes. Nothing great though, I promise. I’m certainly no Picasso.

i mean you don’t have to be picasso to sketch well. and you don’t have to sketch well to sketch at all.

Yeah, may be.

I don’t wanna pressure you into anything, you really don’t have to humor me.

If you do feel like it though, don’t send me a picture. Kinda wanna spark some life into my brain cells.

haha i will. only if you show me the finished product tho.

You’ve got yourself a deal :)

She simply cannot believe he has just agreed to this. Her breath is caught in her throat.

so.

what do you want me to start with?

Just whatever. Idk, tell me about your face.

well

i have brown curly-ish hair that reaches my ears. uh, my eyes are hazel.

Okay, that’s a start.

What’s your nose like?

it’s a bit pointy. thin i think?

Jawline?

sharp? i guess?

this is by far the weirdest thing i’ve done.

Lmao, yeah, this is pretty weird.

Exciting though.

She shouldn’t have said that. Fuck, that is definitely overeager.

yeah it is.

Her stomach feels floaty at his response.

Eyebrows?

uh

normal?

How do you classify “normal” eyebrows, exactly?

i don’t know? they’re simple i guess.

Are you implying complicated eyebrows exist out there?

…

Elaborate, Sam. Are you shy? Do you not have eyebrows? Are they bushy? Or too thin? Or pointy?

i’m telling you they’re average.

Sam

what

You officially suck at this.

oh fuck off how would you describe yours?

Y/n proceeds to write a cohesive sentence that includes adjectives apart from “normal” and “average”. Words like bushy, thin, arched and curvy.

well shit yeah i guess i do suck at this.

i think it’s not a skill i mind not having.

That… is a confusing sentence.

just… draw them however. what difference can eyebrows make?

Oh you have no idea.

Okay, last thing.

Do you have a fringe?

yeah but not for long. i’ll probably let it grow out.

Okay, I can do something with that. Thanks :)

no problem

Her creativity is finally servicing her according to her commands, and Y/n puts pen to paper and scribbles messily. Line after line, they curl and sit on the page, forming a smile with thin lips, a sharp jaw, a pointy nose. She has to guess the eyebrows a bit, and the eyes are more cartoonish and generic than she likes. In the end, she gets anxious at the prospect of having to show him, and gives him a hood, so she won’t fuck up the hair.

Okay, I’m done.

that was quick, actually.

Well I didn’t have much to go on.

Sam doesn’t reply. She worries he might have misinterpreted her teasing tone.

Gimme a sec, I’ll send it over.

Ugh, Dean’s camera is such shit. Do you mind if I send it from my phone?

no go ahead.

[Y/n has sent a picture]

As you said, it didn’t take long. It’s really not the best.

that…

is actually not too far from the truth

it kind of looks like me from two years ago

wow, really?

yeah.

and it’s honestly a pretty good sketch. good job.

Thank you :)

Sam doesn’t say anything after this, and she huffs. Her head falls back on the couch, and she stares at the ceiling. She should go to bed soon, it’s getting late.

isn’t this strange?

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit oh shit, she thinks. He’s regretting this. He doesn’t like her. He’ll stop talking to her and that’ll be it.

Why does she care so much? It’s a thought that passes through her mind. It hasn’t been long since they started talking and, after the near-kidnapping encounter, they’ve been having nearly daily conversations, but that still doesn’t mean much. She knows barely anything about him.

She guesses, she wants to get to know him better. He seems like the type of guy she’d enjoy hanging out with and she has so far. Stopping any kind of conversation would surely feel like a loss. She’d have to go back to her boring routine. This is the most exciting thing she has allowed herself to do in years.

A part of her feels rather lame for finding such a thrill at something so trivial. She’s talking to a stranger, and that’s all it is, but the prospect that he could be anyone at all, and she’s never even seen his face… well… It feels refreshing, new. Scary in an adrenaline-rush kind of way.

What is?

us. texting.

isn’t it a little odd?

I guess it is a bit.

I mean we’ve only known each other for, what, a week? And a half?

yeah.

should we stop?

I don’t know

Do you want to?

The extra moment his reply takes to arrive makes her want to vomit.

no

Then there’s your answer.

okay then

can I save you in my contacts?

Sure, go ahead.

I just did too.

alright.

Okay :)

I’m sorry, I have to go.

I guess I’ll text you later, Sam.

Go be whoever Sam Something is.

it’s winchester.

Like the shotgun?

yup.

That’s BADASS. Can you even get more badass than this? Pre-law, now a PI, and you’re named after a shotgun? Damn dude.

Well, it’s nice to meet you Sam. I’m Y/n Andrews.

Haha thanks.

nice to meet you, too

goodnight Y/n Andrews.

Night Sam Winchester :)

--- Part 3

A/N: Thoughts? How are you liking the newer version of this? right after I post it, I’m gonna delete the other one.

Taglist:

Old Can You See The Stars taglist: @shutupiminlooove @sammysgirl1997 @kymberlytorres @bambi95-blog @demonic-meatball @thekarliwinchester @littlekay15 @li-m-ii  @thinspo-isuppose @carryonmywaywarddemigodwitch @ellen-reincarnated1967 @moonlitskinwalker @marichromatic @illuminatus42 @lazy-author @mirandaaustin93 @hauntedsiriel @pilaxia @devilgirlsarah @nobodys-baby-now @captiveties @calamitychaos @midiocris @wordswillscream​

Sam taglist @kymberlytorres @theboykingsam @depressed-moose-78 @andi-mendes-barnes @captainmarvelcorps @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @nellachain

[icy-md]

Introduction

After ruminating about the prospect for at least a week (but really since I got my med school acceptance), I have finally started my med student blog!

It’s something that brings a lot of fear because I’m insane about my privacy and anonymity on the Internet, but it’s also something that I think would just be really nice to look back on in the future. Huge inspiration comes from Kay of Premed Post-Mom, who has had a blog since day 1 of being a premed and she’s about to become an attending in March which is so lovely and exciting.

Honestly, with the new year coming up shortly I wasn’t sure if I’d get this out in 2020 just because... a lot of reasons. Starting on a new year is nice, starting something new is scary, etc. However, as this is my last week before school starts again I’ve been trying to get my life in order and I’m absolutely terrified by a lot of it, so I thought it would be at least cathartic to write down now, and possibly funny to look back on later?

First semester was a bit rough for me, but I’m trying to be graceful with myself because it was a huge adjustment on many levels, and there were some things that happened that did not make it any easier. Thankfully, I think the next semester should go better now that I have adjusted a bit more, but second semester also comes with its unique challenges.

For starters, I anticipate school itself to be quite more academically challenging. It is a longer semester, which is daunting, and I also will have to study for my first ever OSCE (Objective Structured Clinical Examination). Additionally, I would like to get involved in more extracurriculars just for my own sake–get my teeth really into my hobbies, get better at working out, being more involved in research. I am also beginning to look for summer positions.

That actually would be manageable I think, but the biggest thing that’s changing in second semester is I am now beginning to study for Step 1. I’m still on the fence about whether or not I’m actually going to take it, but I’m like 95% committed to doing so. Regardless, it’s a good idea to at least study starting now in my opinion.

Step 1 anxiety is what drove me to finally making this blog, because I’ve been watching AnKing YouTube videos all morning and he started studying on day one of medical school... which obviously I have not been doing.

Still, I’m going to do my best to keep my chin up and not get too freaked out about everything. I'm trying to remind myself that it’s understandable that I’m overwhelmed because Step 1 is a big exam, with a lot of content, and everyone studies differently, and I’m just a beginner.

So on that note, I’m going to end my first blog post here, mainly because I’m hungry, and I will write again soon! ♡

𝒾𝒸𝓎 👑

[dream-wreck]

Count On Me

If you want the RosaWatts fics, you gotta write the RosaWatts fics.

AO3

Title: Count on Me Rating: G Word Count: 1,425 Description: Eva tries to be there for Neil in the ways she can, but there's only so much you can do for a friend who refuses your help.

.....

To calm herself down, Eva would count anything. It didn’t matter what it was, so long as she started from zero and worked her way up. It was usually as simple as that. She counted the scrapes and smudges on the off-white linoleum while Neil puked on the other side of the third floor bathroom door.

There were several dark streaks left by rubber shoe soles. Fifty-two. There were fifty-two smudges on the surrounding eight tiles alone. A maintenance cart had made a mark that stretched nearly the entire length of the hall. Eva wondered: should the long streak count for more than one? Neil spat into the toilet three times.

The men’s restroom went awfully quiet for twenty-eight seconds. Leaning against the door, Eva listened for any reason not to kick it down. Faintly, she heard Neil exhaling, long and slow, catching his breath. He sniffed once.

“Let me know what I can do,” she called in.

“Got all I need right here,” Neil answered. “Water, breath mints, a little window. I could last for days.”

Eva rubbed tiny circles into her temple. “Just let me know.”

“You know,” Neil huffed, “there’s something to be said of this. Hanging around while I literally spill my guts --”

The rest was lost to violent retching. There was a red mark near the wall and a blue streak of permanent marker. Lord knows how that got there. Neil coughed thirteen times.

“What do you think it was?” Eva asked.

“Uh…” The toilet flushed.

“Didn’t catch that.”

“Just something I ate, probably.”

That wasn’t right. Neil had a garbage disposal for a stomach. Eva knew, though, that she wouldn’t get anywhere contradicting him outright.

She seated herself outside of the men’s bathroom to rest her legs, listening to the water run for one minute. She’d been on her feet all day, running reports back and forth. It had been a day of workplace housekeeping with little real excitement until Neil burst from his office, peckish and panicked, and rushed down the hall like the devil was close behind. It wasn’t the excitement Eva had hoped for.

“How about you go home early today?” she suggested.

The water shut off. “Nah. Day’s almost over.” Neil pulled four paper towels from the dispenser.

“Exactly,” Eva said. “You’ll only miss a few hours that you can make up tomorrow. No harm done.”

“Nah,” Neil said.

“You’ve got plenty of sick leave saved up.”

Something rattled on the other side of the door. Neil gently screwed the pill bottle lid back on. The sink ran again.

“Tylenol probably isn’t the best thing to pop, Neil,” Eva called. “You’ll want to try and eat something with those or you’ll just keep feeling sick.”

She assumed that’s what it was. Neil kept his office drawer stashed with an unholy arsenal of over-the-counter pain relievers for the headaches that usually followed an all-nighter. Honestly, it was a miracle his stomach was still intact at all. He functioned exclusively off a diet of black coffee and little white pills. He kept his mini-fridge stuffed to the brim with energy drinks and ice packs. The only reason Eva didn’t worry more than she probably should have was because she knew Neil, and had for a long time. That’s just who he was: a terrifyingly stable imbalance of Redbull and Advil. She was convinced that it was the only reason (beside her help, of course) that he’d gotten through college.

Neil didn’t respond. A thick silence filled the space. Beneath the weight of her own overbearance, Eva returned her attention to the floor.

The women’s bathroom door was four tiles away from the men’s. The nearest fluorescent tube light (the horrid things...) flickered in a series of five irregular beats before steadying out, but it always flickered in fives. There were two exit signs in this hallway. 

She’d never noticed the dimensions of the hallway before: eight tiles wide. It wasn’t important. It didn’t spark any epiphany. But now that she knew that the third floor hallway was eight tiles wide, Eva would never forget it. Now, every morning when she stepped off the elevator and walked down to her office, she’d notice the eight tile width and think about Neil puking his guts out, this terrible waiting game, and how the color had completely gone from his face when he finally emerged.

Rosa and Neil had known each other for twenty-five years. They’d met in the first grade. She was seven; he was six. They’d had a total of eleven classes together through high school. Neil was in and out of detention for minor disruptions while Eva only ever got detention once. That was in the tenth grade. Carson Adams had hit Neil three times. Eva hit Carson once. It was enough. 

In college, the longest Neil had gone without sleep was fifty-six hours to study for his entrance exams. He snuck in a three hour nap before his first test. He never once got physically ill.

Eva rose to her feet while Neil took a moment to clean his glasses on the end of his lab coat.

“Please hold all disapproving and-or disconcerted expressions until I have regained the gift of sight,” Neil said. He slipped the frames back onto his face, flashing a smile and wiggling his fingers with a magician’s flair. “Ta da!”

Looking up at him, Eva crossed her arms. “Truly remarkable. Now go home.”

Neil shrugged. “A new stack of maintenance reports just came in. I’m stuck here, same as everyone else.”

“Do them tomorrow,” Eva pressed. “You look terrible.”

Neil pressed a hand to his heart, shaking the pills in his pocket. “Thank you, I’m touched. I’ll write that one in my diary tonight.”

Turning on a heel, he gave a halfhearted wink and started for his office. Eva followed close at his shoulder. She didn’t like that he hadn’t really, truly looked her in the eyes yet today. 

“Cut that out. Seriously. Take the extra hours to see your doctor.”

Without missing a beat, Neil stopped so suddenly, they collided shoulders. “Dr. Rosalene, I’m flattered, but that would be completely unprofessional -- “

Scoffing, Eva marched on. If he wasn’t going to take this seriously, fine. She wouldn’t press any further.

“I’m kidding! Come on, Eva. Eva!” Neil ran after her at first, his rubbers heels striking the linoleum, but he settled for matching her walking pace. 

“You don’t get sick, Neil,” Eva said, looking straight ahead.

Neil steadied his breathing. “Just something I ate. You know the cafeteria salads can be utterly rancid.”

They stopped between their two office doors. Eva’s hung wide open; Neil’s was locked. Even in the scramble, he had time to pull his door shut.

“Just take it easy,” Eva said. “Eat something with...whatever it is you’re taking.”

“Tylenol,” Neil affirmed.

“Drink lots of water,” Eva said. 

Neil pulled an office key from his pants pocket. “Right.”

“Go to bed early.”

“Mhm.” Neil unlocked the door.

“Don’t mix pills and Monster. Actually, just skip the Monster today.”

“I will make no such promises,” Neil smirked. He gave a little wave and a tight-lipped grin before disappearing behind yet another door.

He left Eva in the hallway. She’d always been certain that if Neil needed to talk to her about anything, he would in his own way, because he always had, though they’d usually waste ample time beating bushes.

But those conversations always came about only after a little prodding on Eva’s part. And given the reminder that there was someone in his life who wanted to listen and wanted to help in any way they could, his guarded soul would, in its own time, open naturally to the daunting prospect of vulnerability. Eva just wished he’d get on with it already.

She took a slow breath. In his own time, always. Knowing Neil for so long had certainly made her far more patient than (she believed) she would have been otherwise. It was a good thing. A very good thing. She’d learned to take matters a little slower than she often wanted. Even so, she had an inexplicable sense of being on the clock, fighting a quiet countdown, which she attributed up to a desperate desire to see her friend well again.

She left that for another time. Dr. Eva Rosalene stepped into her office and faced a more immediate task -- the mountain of paperwork awaiting her return -- failing to overhear the faint jingle of pills tumbling from their bottle into Dr. Neil Watts’ shaking hand.

[quarterfromcanon]

1-4. For the asks

Thank you so much for sending these! <3 

Once I started to answer them, I realized there were comparatively few recent television shows appearing on the list. I seemed to keep gravitating toward older ones I remembered from years ago. I took a handful of days to mull it over in case I was forgetting something, but nothing else comes to mind. Maybe my ongoing list of Shows to Watch During Quarantine will turn up some fresh results but, for now, it looks like I’ll be taking a little trip down memory lane. :) 

This turned out to be a pretty long and rambly post, so I’ll stow it under the cut!

Top 5 TV Shows 

1. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - I can’t imagine this surprises anyone who has been following this blog for the past two years or so. It brought fellow fans into my life, got me back into writing fic, and prompted countless tags of meta. It’s the show my mind drifts to on a weekly basis (if not daily) even a full year after the finale. Just when it seemed I’d reached an age where that level of intense fandom involvement and character attachment might be fading, it proved that quite the opposite was true. I’m very thankful to the series for that, and for the people whose paths have crossed mine as a result.   

2. Schitt’s Creek - This is my #1 Feel Good show and, though I’ve been dodging spoilers for the final season until it gets uploaded to Netflix, I get the impression that it will remain in that top spot. The world feels softer and more hopeful there. It’s healing for my soul. I’m going to have a dreadfully difficult time saying goodbye, but I’m glad there are six season to revisit whenever I want. 

3. Stranger Things - The theme song alone sends such a rush of excitement through me. I love the aesthetic and the atmosphere. I sometimes have mixed feelings about the romances but the FRIENDSHIPS sure do have a direct line to my heartstrings. I think the way they’ve combined media influences into their own story is really neat. You get something that’s new and engaging, but you can also go back and enjoy the sources of inspiration with fresh appreciation. 

4. Joan of Arcadia - I can’t help it. The snark, the jackets, the early 2000s songs, the performances -- the nostalgia for this show is so strong. It’s not without its problems, but it did have some really good things to offer as well. I remember an episode that was one of my earliest introductions to the concept of a trigger, and the effect it could have on a person if exposed to one of theirs. The series dealt a lot with grief and the many forms it can take (I STILL can’t hear Fiona Apple’s cover of “Across the Universe” without getting misty-eyed). I’m also surprised, looking back, at the somewhat positive way I recall them discussing homosexuality on the several occasions that it came up in the show. Not to give too much credit since I don’t think there were recurring canonically LGBTQIA+ characters but, for a kid who spent most days around closed-minded people of a certain religious leaning, it was meaningful along my individual journey. I’d like to provide the several examples that are most vivid in my memory:

A. A girl with short hair, short nails, little to no makeup, and a bulky leather jacket is generally assumed to be a lesbian by the bullies at school. The show directly confronts the fact that “gay” should not be used an insult, that identity should not be assumed without the person telling you so, AND makes sure that the character in question never pushes back by saying harmful things about lesbians despite not actually being one herself. 

B. A boy who is questioning is able to confide in his big brother and have a fairly calm conversation about it; the awkwardness mostly comes from neither of them being accustomed to openly discussing emotions, not from the possibility of a negative response regarding the subject matter. 

C. Another character is accidentally discovered to be gay (he only appears in the one episode, if my memory serves), and some of the leads have the opportunity to share that for personal gain. However, even though he is a popular jock who is a bit of a jerk in the hallways, the show makes it clear that the right choice is still to leave the telling of that information up to him and him alone. 

Like I mentioned, it can’t be said that representation was in abundance here - for instance, I don’t believe anything other than straight or gay was presented as a possibility - but any accepting acknowledgement in a faith-centric series was something for me to hold on to in my still-deeply-closeted days. As a final Very Important personal side note, this show brought Judith Montgomery into my life (pictured below on the left), and that feels like it merits a shoutout for being what I consider a rather significant marker in my awakening. 

THE OVERWHELMING CRUSH I HAD - and still have - is one for the books. 

5. Pushing Daisies - This is another show with an aesthetic I adore. The series has such a fun, whimsical energy. The crime-solving! The clothes! The cast! There's a lot to love. It’s the kind of world I wish I could visit... well, minus the evidently rampant murder rate. 

Top 5 Overrated TV Shows

1. Once Upon A Time - *deep sigh* I tried to stick with it for so long. I think I’ve seen five out of the seven seasons in their entirety. It just felt like everything got mired down by excessive (and increasingly convoluted) subplots, often for the purpose of tossing in as many fairytale and/or Disney characters as possible. Plus, quite honestly, there was too much emphasis on romantic love. For a show whose first season involved a curse being broken by [potential spoiler, I suppose] a mother kissing her son’s forehead, I ultimately found myself up to my ears in romantic ships. It reached such a stifling extent that, if you were not particularly attached to those pairings, there wasn’t a whole lot else to entice further viewing. 

2. Under the Dome - I don’t know for certain what the general public opinion of this series was, but it felt like the commercials always featured alleged rave reviews, so I figured I could include it here. I was vaguely interested in Season 1, mainly as a fan of Rachelle Lefevre’s work. Season 2 pulled me in with the introduction of a new townsperson and I threw WAY too much of my heart into that attachment, which backfired when that character was killed. I made quite the spectacle of my heartbreak, so much so that my family doesn’t let me mention this show around them anymore. :P Season 3 was, to phrase it delicately, not a great time. The series did introduce me to a few new-to-me actors, though, so that was cool. 

3. Bates Motel - Even the incentive of learning that the two characters I liked most share a lot of screen time later in the series hasn’t been enough to call me back to this one. I don’t know if it was the pacing that put me off or what, but the prospect of finishing the remaining seasons feels so daunting. There are evidently five seasons in total and I believe I’ve only seen two of them thus far. I will probably muddle through it someday just to see how it goes, but the fact that I am so disinclined to prioritize it made this feel like a fair addition to the list. 

4. Lost - My interest in this series unfortunately waned right before fervent fandom spiked. I don’t have any specific complaints that come to mind about what I saw; I just sort of drifted and then stayed away. Teachers I liked and peers I spent time with were starting to latch on to the show and I couldn’t find even the slightest inclination to give it a second try. However, did I still dutifully read all the latest installments in my friend’s Sawyer Ford and Kate Austen fanfiction when she passed me handwritten copies at lunch? Sure. I was glad it made her happy, even if I was no longer a viewer. 

5. Hemlock Grove - I say this as someone who still mourns the fates of some characters in this show, so I wouldn’t go so far as to claim that the series stopped being able to make me feel anything. I’m just of the opinion that, in some ways, it might’ve been better off stopping at one season. That’s where the book it was based on ends, and things just didn’t feel as cohesive after that. Season 3 especially was - borrowing from my above review of Under the Dome - not a great time. That being said, there are also certain elements from the book that I could’ve done without in the Season 1 adaptation but... well... here we are. 

Top 5 Underrated TV Shows

1. Picnic at Hanging Rock - Another one that won’t surprise followers of this blog. I have rhapsodized about it quite frequently since I found it a little over a month ago. It’s a period piece mystery miniseries with LGBTQIA+ representation, gorgeous costumes, and Samara Weaving. This felt specifically designed to wedge its way into my heart, and I’m quite content with the space it now occupies.

2. Dark - I’m so intrigued by the overlapping timelines with all of the morally gray characters. It’s possible to like one of these people in the timeline where they’re young but dislike them as adults, or vice versa. It also makes me think of Rant by Chuck Palahniuk a little tiny bit with the idea that time travel, specifically tampering with your own timeline, might make you physically and behaviorally unrecognizable to yourself. And the SONG CHOICES! I have gotten some solid new music selections from this series. 

3. Sense8 - I still need to watch the finale. I really do. But I knew it would make me sad so I’ve avoided it for... two years now? Pretty close, I think. The concept is fascinating and the cast is so strong. Plus the cinematography! They came up with some of the coolest ways to depict the link these characters share and what it’s like when they connect over distance. The planning and careful editing it all must’ve taken... I remain in awe. 

4. Penny Dreadful - There were definitely some story/writing choices I didn’t particularly like along the way, but I did get engrossed in the creepy goodness and the performances -- Eva Green’s Vanessa Ives most of all. It left me wishing for more period piece “monster mash” stories, because having all those classic characters in one place was a blast. It also helped me understand why Helen McCrory was once slated to play Bellatrix Lestrange because she can be terrifying. Oh and Sarah Greene in her Wild West outfits? Perdita Weeks with short red hair in fencing garb, and later in all leather with boots and a long jacket? I WAS NOT PREPARED AND I HAVE STILL NOT RECOVERED. I NEVER WILL.

5. Wonderfalls - There’s some cringe-inducing handling of certain representation in the series, but I have such a weak spot for quippy outcasts who become reluctant chosen ones (Joan Girardi in Joan of Arcadia, Wynonna Earp, Jaye Tyler in this series, et cetera). I also really love the sibling dynamics here. They bicker, tease one another, help each other out of trouble, and have rare but genuine heart-to-hearts. Caroline, Lee, and Katie all did such a great job blending their characters’ adult personalities with certain childhood attributes that rise to the surface in the presence of family.  

Top 5 Movies

1. Addams Family Values - I’ve rewatched this movie at least once annually since I found it in Media Play at age 13. Usually, I’ll play it around Halloween or, at the latest, Thanksgiving. It’s mouth-along-with-every-line level ingrained in my memory. I find myself leaning forward in my seat before favorite parts because I’m still that excited to relive them. Why this movie, and why this devotion to such a degree? It’s hard to explain, even to myself. I can tell you, however, that I hold up every other portrayal of the Addams characters to the versions found in this. Everybody in the cast just feels that perfect for their part. 

2. Clue - I was already pretty fond of this movie to begin with, but then my sister got older and claimed it as a favorite of her own, so now she just supplies me with further excuses to watch it repeatedly. It’s also been a bonding piece of media with a couple of close friends and such through the years. It’s incredible to think not everyone in it was the first choice for their roles; what everybody brings to the table is so top-notch that I wouldn’t have it any other way. I also LOVE knowing that it originally went to theaters with different endings depending on which showing you attended. I gather people weren’t terribly thrilled with the stunt back then, but I kinda think some moviegoers would be into that approach these days? Then again, one hit that tried something different tends to start a fad, so maybe I’d end up regretting the suggestion after a while. :P

3. The Craft - This. Movie. Yes, Act III is a major bummer even though I know it’s coming, and I’ll always wish it ended differently. Even so. This. Movie. I tend to headcanon mostly for shows and sometimes books, but The Craft is a beloved exception. I love so much about it: the magic, the music, the clothes, the settings, the dynamics within the friend group, the performances. I had no idea when I first got the DVD at 17 that it would become such a part of my life, but I’m so glad it found its way to me. 

4. Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion - The soundtrack is a glorious ’80s and ’90s treat for my ears. The colorful costumes are perfectly suited to the main characters’ version of the world. There are so many great lines and it feels like everyone is having a lot of fun in their roles. I LOVE HEATHER MOONEY SO MUCH. She’s my awful, scathingly sarcastic, little grungy grump and she fills my heart with joy. 

5. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King - I was pretty sure at least one of the three had to appear on here. I think, if I were to tally them all up, The Return of the King features most of my favorite moments, so it wins the spot. “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you!”, ‘Edge of Night,’ Éowyn in battle, The Army of the Dead, ‘Into the West’... I end up crying during the end credits every time. So, yeah, ultimately, I would choose the third part of the trilogy if I could only watch one. 

Phew, that’s it! All the questions answered, all the shows and movies listed! Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read it all, and thanks again to @monaiargancoconutsoy for sending in the prompts! <3

[theavenir17-blog]

Just how Condo Buyers Can Stay away from Paying Too Much: Ten Crucial Tips

Whether you're some sort of first-time buyer or a expert professional in the real estate online game, purchasing a condominium can be an daunting task, fraught with economic pitfalls as well as potential income. It's an emotional course of action filled with difficult choices-and each and every decision you make has funds riding on it. Finding the right rental for your family's needs will be tough enough; knowing how in order to avoid paying too much for that amazing living space is another job totally.

As a professional Realtor® who have helped countless buyers locate their dream home in addition to save money at the same time, I've produced this guide to help you avoid the prospective hazards inherent in the condo-buying process. I'll show you making certain you've found the correct home, as well as how to loan provider a price to your advantage. These are classes you truly can't find the money for to learn through trial and error.

Suggestion #1: Determine Your House "Minimums" Ahead of Time.

Understand that you can find two condos out there eager for your attention-one that fits your needs and one that suits your desires. In a excellent world, you could choose that will three-bedroom condo with area for your family to grow, nevertheless have the perfect floor policy for entertaining and social get-togethers. Is that big kitchen more vital to you than a few added rooms?

When you begin shopping for your own personal condo, you'll encounter qualities you'll fall in love with for different causes. It's best to list the features you want before you start shopping. Break your personal list into two categories-"Needs" and "Desires"-and prioritize those items accordingly. Understanding what you genuinely need in your condo rather than what you'd like to have will help you keep your priorities straight when you shop around .

Don't let emotion impair your judgment. Satisfy your preferences first, and if you can accomplish some of your desires at the same time, so much the better. What's crucial is to understand the difference before getting caught-up in the excitement in the hunt.

Tip #2: Obtain a Pre-Approved Mortgage.

In case you are not buying with dollars, getting a loan pre-approved could be the smart way to shop for a loft apartment. It tells sellers that you are currently a serious prospect, and you realize in advance the maximum mortgage it is possible to afford.

I've seen customers make the mistake of understanding what they qualify for, but not having pre-approval in writing. You've removed this far, so take next step-get it written.

The good news is that it's easier than ever to be approved for a home loan.

Tip #3: Communicate with Your Realtor.

Coming from finding the right condo to examinations and negotiating the best package, the condo search practice can be exhausting for the particular hardiest souls. That's why smart condo buyers have a Realtor® in their corner. Most vendors you encounter are undoubtedly going to have professionals particular side. Having a pro on your own team is the safest solution to ensure that you get the best deal achievable.

Once you have a clear, detailed photograph of the condo you want, make sure that your agent has the same graphic. This communication is critical. In any other case, you'll both waste time considering homes that hold little curiosity for you.

Also, make sure your Agent knows your priorities. Your own personal shared goal is to it is worth it to find an excellent condo that complies with all of your needs; your Will give will then try to satisfy as much of your desires as possible.

Idea #4: The Cliché is valid... Location, Location, Location!

The particular desirability and resale associated with your condo-to-be depends on place more than any other single aspect. Again, don't let emotion get involved the way of a wise investment. Simply no condo is an island, as well as the value of yours is influenced in what surrounds it. The Avenir showflat

There are several factors that combine to create a fine location. Your first consideration is a neighborhood itself. Every local community has its own unique character; you should make sure you'd be comfortable inside the one you're thinking of moving into. Take a long walk as well as observe carefully. Do folks take pride in their building? Speak to the neighbors and ask concerns that give you a better sense for the property. But try not to appear judgmental-you might be conversing with a future neighbor.

If the developing is to your satisfaction, try to find units on the market in the area. Incredibly large units surrounded by more compact ones tend to appreciate not more than a large condo among some other large condos. Conversely, the actual unit in the building is commonly "pulled up" by the additional units in the building. Nonetheless it might take longer to sell a smaller sized unit when the time will come because many people are unwilling to cover extra for the neighborhood. The Avenir showflat

The outside edge of a neighborhood is normally not good for resale value. You can find noticeable dividing lines in between dissimilar neighborhoods. It could be a change in architectural styles, property or home use or something else. Search for a condo in the middle of a location of similar buildings; it will eventually hold its value far better.

An exception to this rule can be a building on the edge of your neighborhood bounded by h2o, parkland, a golf course or maybe other open space. Normal boundaries appeal to buyers, and the "edge" condos can actually command word a better price. Be mindful, still of the planned use for that open space. A community park is nice; a fresh freeway, strip mall as well as industrial center isn't.

Other stuff that can negatively affect residence values are traffic, seems, smells, etc . Be sure to supply the neighborhood a long, hard seem. The condo you're interested in could be perfect, but if the neighborhood provides problems, your investment defintely won't be worth as much when the moment comes to sell.

Tip #5: Enjoy the Present, but Look at the Future.

Buying a condo is often a big investment. If you can stretch out a little today financially to obtain a unit that you can grow with-whether it's having a child, operating a home-based business, or turning an extra room into your personal gym-do it. In the long run, it will oftimes be less expensive than moving up into a marginally larger unit if the need does arise.

Hint #6: Pay Attention to Red Flags While Evaluating a Condo.

When assessing the advantages and drawbacks of a certain property, be sure you know the big difference between acceptable and unwanted problems.

Some issues-peeling fresh paint, worn carpeting, ugly wallpaper-are cosmetic and can be easily dealt with. You can even use these "problems" during negotiations to lower the particular asking price. After all, you'll need to spend some money to bring the condo around snuff.

Make careful take note of the issues you realize that can be used to your advantage. May nit-pick, however-if taken to two extremes, you could end up alienating owner and creating a hostile ambiance.

In my experience, spending a few hundred or so dollars on a professional condominium inspection is the best investment likely to ever make. A professional inspector brings experience in evaluating a great many homes, good review standards, and an neutral perspective. And a written review can be an excellent negotiating application.

Don't let a condo's optimistic attributes blind you to extremely real problems. If you do, the possibilities are good that you'll end up wasting much more money than you ever before expected at some point down the line.

Fortunately for buyers is that the regulation now requires sellers for making complete disclosure of identified material defects. Make sure to fully grasp this in writing. And carefully take into account how these defects may possibly influence what you're ready to pay.

Tip #7: Some Fixer-Uppers Are "Good-Byes, " Negative Buys.

You may be the sort regarding person who looks at a condo looking for significant work as "a challenge" and an opportunity to make money. Many individuals have bought fixer-uppers at below-market rates, invested a little sweating equity or more than a tiny money on renovation, and after that eventually put it back on the market with a profit.

But if your unit basically priced low enough, you may not recoup your investment of the time, trouble and expense. Prior to deciding to proceed, do a careful examination of what you'll have to spend. Then, consult with your Realtor to master what you can reasonably anticipate to earn when you put the model back on the market. And be certain to consider the unexpected-there's no such thing as being a "sure thing. "

Word of advice #8: Put on Your Best Holdem poker Face.

One of the costliest blunders you can make is letting the vendor know how much you love their condo. Once you've let it fall, you can just about forget about settling the price-the other area knows how motivated you happen to be. In fact , a seller often see this as an opportunity to squash a little more money out of an individual even when you've made a good offer you to start with; no matter how wonderful a property is, keep it to on your own.

Keep your own situation for you to yourself as well. Information can be utilized against you. How much most likely willing to spend, the size of loan you can afford, your move-in deadline-it all can be used to acquire more money out of your pocket. Make sure you tell your agent everything he / she needs to know to be effective with your behalf-whether you plan to pay income or the size of the home finance loan you can afford, etc . Nevertheless , keep your personal circumstances and also timeline to yourself.

Inversely, knowledge is power. The causes behind a sale can often be accustomed to your competitive advantage in the course of negotiations. For example , a vendor whose company has transported him to another city may perhaps be more motivated to sell as compared to someone who is still looking for a fresh home.

Other signs of a new motivated seller include a vacant system, or a condo that's been in the marketplace for several months with savings in the asking price.

Tip #9: Don't Be Pressured, but Carry out Negotiate.

While you want to proceed expeditiously once you're inside negotiations, don't let the other edge pressure you into a speedy close. It may be a sign there's something you should know, but may. And the reason could be well worth money.

Sometimes, the seller's Realtor will try to discourage a hesitant buyer with all the threat of another significant potential buyer. Don't fall under this trap-it will only cost money. If there is another consumer, then the seller's agent will endeavour to get a bidding war started out. In these situations, whoever benefits also loses because the client ends up overpaying.

If there just isn't another buyer, there's a excellent chance that "the various other deal" will fall by means of and the seller's agent should come calling. Be sure to let the different side know that you might be fascinated if this were to happen, prior to deciding to walk away.

You may be the type of person who also prefers a hard-and-fast cost on everything. "I don't like to help haggle, " you point out. But negotiation is the key to secure a good deal! If your goal is to get the best house possible for the least amount of money, then you certainly better be prepared to play. Your personal Realtor can assist you with these sometimes-stressful negotiations.

Tip #10: All set - Set - Obtain!

Good properties move quickly! Once you've made up your mind to get a condo and you've prearranged your Realtor, be prepared to help to make decisions quickly. If you find the ideal unit today but usually are ready to buy until down the road, you may already be too late. Is actually that simple-if you have decreased in love with a particular condominium, somebody else in the market probably has also.

If this all sounds like plenty of work, it is. But this is certainly to be expected when you're getting anything of such fantastic value. And you'll thank by yourself and your Realtor when the result is to your satisfaction.

You should feel free to call me if you'd like further explanation on some of these tips, or if you have virtually any real estate questions at all.

Our mission is to share the information and insights I've obtained from years of experience on the market in order to help you optimize your house investment.

The Avenir by GuocoLand. Hotline 61006768. Get Discount, Direct Developer Price, Brochure, Floor Plan, Price List & More. Former Pacific Mansion at River Valley

[aion-rsa]

Is It Better to Reinvent Fantasy Tropes or Pay Homage to Them?

https://ift.tt/3oItn9x

In August, we brought you the first part of this roundtable conversation between three of speculative fiction’s most exciting up-and-coming authors: Emily Tesh (Silver in the Wood and its sequel Drowned Country), A.K. Larkwood (The Unspoken Name), and Everina Maxwell. In honor of today’s publication of Maxwell’s queer space opera Winter’s Orbit, we’re publishing the second part of their conversation. In it, the writers and IRL friends have a funny and insightful conversation about elves and the value of a homage, the difficulties of writing sequels, and how to name a book.

Q: EVERINA MAXWELL: Fantasy as a genre is constantly reinventing elements it’s had since forever. Both The Unspoken Name and Drowned Country contain elves, for example, or at least something that looks like elves if you squint at them sideways. What inspires you to take a familiar concept and put a new spin on it?

EMILY TESH: Oh thank you, you know I love to talk about elves. For me part of the joy of creating genre fiction is working with the constraints and expectations of that genre, whether you’re running with them or pushing against them–borrowing from what Kass said earlier about reusing characters, it’s helpful to have a paintbox rather than mixing your paint from scratch! I especially love having a starting point for what your readers think is going on; in many ways writing a book is an exercise in mind control–what is your reader imagining right now? What have they guessed? What do they know that the characters don’t? What elements of the story are holding their attention? Sometimes one feels a bit of pressure to subvert, to do an original take that no one has done before. But I don’t think that’s always necessary or even interesting. A boring subversion (you thought… X! But actually… the opposite of that!) can’t carry a story by itself, while the familiar tracks of reader expectation can lead you to interesting places. It’s also the case that having your expectations fulfilled can be a satisfying experience as a reader; personally I love to guess the murderer, to solve the lore mystery, to watch characters who are clearly perfect for each other realise they’re in love. 

Anyway my point is: I find it impossible to talk elves in the fantastic without finding myself in conversation with Tolkien, who just wrote so much elf bullshit. I say this from a place of deep love, as a person who has read all of it multiple times including the obscure stuff that didn’t even make it into the Silmarillion. And while “this isn’t like Tolkien!” is something I’ve heard often as a shorthand for “this fantasy is new and fun and subverts those old familiar tropes you know!,” I knew when I started writing Drowned Country that I wanted to do the opposite of that: I wanted to lean right into Tolkienesque elves–immortals who have outlived their own apocalypse, remnants of a civilization unimaginably older than the human world, and also the cool thing where as they get older and older they start to turn invisible. I think there’s a lot to be said for the homage, the anti-subversion. What is a genre without the echoes and reimaginings, the game of expectations, the mutual understanding between author and reader that what we are reading now is built–for better or worse–on what we’ve read before?

Also elves are cool and great and that’s just facts.

A.K. LARKWOOD: I can’t believe everyone spotted the elves in my book, I thought I hid them so well. Anyway my excuse is because I just think it’s cute to give people pointy ears.

TESH: This is also valid.

Q: TESH: Speaking of sources for fantasy tropes: can someone just like… explain Dungeons and Dragons to me? From a writing perspective, I mean. I know that for some people roleplay can be a hugely productive story-generating engine and I am curious about how that goes because it has never worked for me!

LARKWOOD: D&D as I have played it is good for telling exactly one story, which is “some people who are good at fighting explore a mysterious location.” At its best this is really all you need! God knows I have got multiple huge chunks of book out of this very mechanism! But I don’t think it’s good for generating plot so much as it encourages you to think about character. The role of DM and player are not the same as the roles of author and reader, the axis of authority over what happens to this fictional person is very different, so it gives you a different perspective on… what is it that endears you to a character so much that you get very sad when they are eaten by bugs in a random encounter? What makes it fun to spend time in a certain persona, until they are eaten by bugs in a random encounter? Why do some character deaths feel important and meaningful and others feel frustrating and pointless, such as, when you are eaten by bugs in a random encounter? (This was in 2014. I will neither forgive nor forget.)

Fun fact: many years ago I DMed a game which featured some of the locations in The Unspoken Name as playable dungeons. In this game my future wife played a professional wrestler named Roxanne, which honestly makes me think the whole book would have been better if she’d been at the wheel throughout.

Q: MAXWELL: Both The Unspoken Name and Silver in the Wood have sequels. How did you find the process of writing the second book? How does your approach to character and plot change when you know the reader has probably already met them?

TESH: It’s both great fun and the absolute worst! Fun because you already have a world to play in and some character dynamics to play with, and you don’t have to do nearly as much work establishing things either for the readers or for yourself. The worst for almost exactly the same reasons. Writing Silver in the Wood took me a long time for how short it is, because I was figuring out the mysteries along with the characters. Drowned Country, conversely, was written fairly quickly, but it was much harder. This despite knowing up front almost everything I needed to know (beach episode, goffic ruins, sad vampire, mysterious young lady, elves!)–having to tell a story within an established character framework threw me, because it limited my options for what those characters would plausibly do and feel. The two-year timeskip that I ended up building into the book is mostly there to give me breathing room and shake up the character dynamics a bit–my original concept for it followed hard on the heels of the first book’s plot, and I wrote about six thousand words of that before realizing it was hurtling towards being a sad story about a couple having a bad breakup, which I didn’t want to write! I think it was Kass who suggested “just set it two years later” and it worked like a charm.

LARKWOOD: I had heard all about The Difficult Second Novel and had blithely been like “but I would simply have no problems with this,” and I was extremely wrong! I wrote The Unspoken Name over several years with infinite latitude to rethink and rewrite, and no expectation that anyone was ever going to read it. “Do the same thing again, but different and better, in approximately a quarter of the time, with more people watching” is always a bit of a daunting prospect. My top tip is: don’t be in your final year of law school, or if you must, try to ensure that a global health crisis doesn’t also happen at the same time. That said, I think it was a productive struggle, and knowing that some people are already invested in the characters does mean you can skip straight to being very nasty to them.

Read more

Books

How Winter’s Orbit Went From AO3 to Published Space Opera

By Kayti Burt

Books

Cover Reveal: Winter’s Orbit by Everina Maxwell

By Kayti Burt

Q: TESH: How do you come up with a good title for a book? (Yes this question is here to torment you.)

MAXWELL: YOU HAVE TO ANSWER THIS AS WELL

LARKWOOD: HA HA HA. The Unspoken Name was my working title! I made a list of about 30 alternative options and thought very hard about it for several weeks and – of course – reverted to the original. (but the title of the sequel I got right away – you win some you lose some)

MAXWELL: You title your first draft five minutes before you post it on the internet, then you discover the title you picked has been used by several other books, then you go through dozens and dozens of titles until words no longer have any meaning, then someone else (hi, Ali!) suggests something thoughtful based on some imagery and you’re like yes! That one! Please never make me title a book again.

TESH: Since I HAVE to answer–I don’t see what the problem is, guys! You just say literally what the book is about: e.g. Silver in the Wood is about a guy named Silver who goes into a wood, and Drowned Country is about some country which is underwater. Simple!

MAXWELL: Petition to retitle both Emily’s books Some Trees And A Sad Man.

TESH: Some Trees And A Sad Man and its sequel Same Trees, Different Sad Man.

LARKWOOD: I can’t believe we’ve solved the title problem for all time! Really looking forward to Ev’s upcoming masterwork, Two Boys In Space (Who Kiss), and mine, Too Many God Damn Things Happen In This Book.

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TESH: I think our publicists will shout at us if we do not end with: that’s Drowned Country by Emily Tesh for gay disaster folklore and gothic seasides, out August 2020; Winter’s Orbit by Everina Maxwell for space princes stuck in an arranged marriage, coming February 2021, and The Unspoken Name + 2021’s upcoming highly mysterious sequel by A.K. Larkwood for haunted snake goddesses and orcs with dating problems. If you have enjoyed our conversation, you may also enjoy our books!

Winter’s Orbit, Drowned Country, and The Unspoken Name are available wherever books are sold. The paperback edition of The Unspoken Name is also now out!

The post Is It Better to Reinvent Fantasy Tropes or Pay Homage to Them? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[thecouponcatcher]

How To Make A Money Making Website With WordPress 2020

I don't know if there's any other video that I've been more excited about than this video, I think this might be my best one yet, because I’m going to show you something a little bit different to what’s currently being taught out there.

 I’m going to show you step by step 3 ways that I have made money with my website earning my first dollar online and how I have been able to scale to more than a 100/day selling my products and services and other people's products or 

affiliate marketing.

 My name is James Stafford, the creator of WME...

 Take a sneak peak - I’ll be showing you two ways I create these pages – both are properly setup in a specific way to convert traffic into customers and I will show you how I have been able to make money from them, but one of these methods in particular uses microfunnels which has made it faster and easier than the other to promote my products and services, Its Awesome within clicks i can create new offers!

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 Put your website on steroids and then some.. Its Awsome!

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 Now if you're thinking James that’s great, but I don't have a product or service to sell yet, then don’t worry – I got you covered!

 Because in this video, I’m going to show you how to use other people’s products to sell. This is known as affiliate marketing, and even if you’re an existing affiliate marketer, the content accelerator is going to really help you cut through the noise!

 Excited?

 You should be, because it really doesn’t get more simple than this!

 There is only one caveat though and that’s this - this is NOT for everyone, Too many people want to make money and not have to work for it... and after a decade of being online, I can tell you that’s NOT how it works.

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 This means having your website properly set up in a way that's going to authentically connect with your audience immediately.

 We want to magnetize your website so you’re attracting a quality audience that is hungry for more and is actually signing up for your free stuff so you can start building a highly engaged list.

 Now as a bonus in this video, I’m going to teach you how to create my signature hybrid homepage which is how I properly setup my site in a way to make more money from my offers – prepare to be wowed because my hybrid homepage is designed to deeply engage my audience and will practically compel my visitors to keep coming back to my website, converting traffic into subscribers and then ultimately buyers.

 Now this course is jam-packed with the good stuff... which is why I want you to pay 100% attention. The more you engage and listen and apply, the more you’ll benefit – and your mindset should be you don’t want anything distracting you from getting the results you truly deserve!

 So, switch off your phone, turn off Facebook or any other tab you’ve got open and close off ALL distractions because I’m about to pull back the curtain on what I consider to be one of the most effective ways ever I have been able to make money from my website!

 So let me first show you what this is all about!

 Check out this webpage here which contains a little video at the top plus it also has some content that educates prospects a bit more.. You can immediately see we're giving a ton of value right up front. Now if I scroll on down a little bit, here’s the offer that’s being promoted.

 The golden rule is that above the fold, it's all content, while below the fold - you've got the offer you want to promote.

 This can be anything relevant to the content you’ve added and can include things like a dollar trial to a membership site like we do at Websites made easy, an affiliate offer from Amazon or any other seller or even an affiliate information course from places like Clickbank or JVZoo – the sky is the limit, it really is.

 The bottom line is this is ALL about giving VALUE VALUE VALUE – that’s it. Nothing complicated or salesy about it. Think about it if you educate people well enough and they can see themselves transforming as a result of using your product or service that’s what it’s all about..

 Now I don’t want you getting hung up on the video element of this page, because you can just do a screen share video like this one if you’re not comfortable being on camera – which I’m not, super comfortable just in case you’re wondering. And if you don’t even want to do that, honestly, don’t sweat it because you can even use someone else's video… but I’ll talk more about that later in this video!

 Here’s the thing, when done properly...this is going to help people decide whether or not they want what you have to offer. And if you’ve done your bit right, the natural next step is for your readers to go ahead and buy from you!

 You’re gonna love it, so let’s get dialed in because there’s lots to show you. This video is based on my signature 3 step WTC System which is a proven blueprint to success with your website or even your blog.

 So here’s the thing – for years I struggled to make money online and jumped around buying course after course and getting more and more broke and more and more frustrated because I’d make a tiny bit of money and then nothing.

 Long story short, I got so tired of being broke that I swore I would stop buying the latest course with money I didn’t even have and just focus on what I found worked.

 So when I stripped everything back, I discovered you only need three things to make money online:

 You need to:

 Build a money-making website

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 Turn leads into paying and repeat customers

 Three things – website, Traffic and Customers which is exactly what my WTC system stands for.

 That’s it.

 So here’s how this course is going to work – I’m going to walk you through how to properly setup your website with the Hybrid homepage which is the foundation of the WTC system.

 Let’s get started with step one which is all about creating my profitable Hybrid Website- don’t worry if you’ve never built a website before, I promise it’s not daunting, scary or overwhelming – just follow along with me because the process is simple, easy and doesn’t require any technical skills whatsoever.

 You can get started for next to nothing and I think it’s safe to say I’ve got the process pretty dialed in.

 What you’re going to be creating is your very own Hybrid Website so you to can make offers using the Content Acclertor

 Believe it or not, getting your website up and running from scratch is actually the really easy part.

 Once that’s done, we can start adding the juicy bits which is essentially all the key ingredients of the Hybrid website.

 These include:

 hybrid home page

 High value content

 irresistible offers

 Now our goal for your website is very simple – we want to attract the right people to your website and give them a super valuable piece of content for which they have to sign up to your list to get it.

 Once you have someone on your list, you can then start to build and nurture a relationship with them so you can start offering products to them and therefore start making money.

 This is why in order to reach that goal of making money, your homepage must connect deeply with your audience AND encourage them to take that next step with you which is signing up for your free stuff.

 Your hybrid homepage will allow you to do that very nicely because the way it’s setup will allow you to both engage your audience and prompt them to take action.

 Sharing things like your pilot story which is one key ingredient of the hybrid homepage will help you massively because you want to be relatable to your audience and share your experiences in order to create a connection with them.

 Stories are the best way to do that!

 It's a win-win scenario because your website will give you the freedom and the flexibility of earning while doing something you love.

 However, I want you to focus on laying a solid foundation for the success of your website and this means consistently publishing regular content and different offers on your site. This is what all successful bloggers do and is how they make money.

 With that being said, let’s take a peek at the website we’re going to be creating.

 This is it – it’s killer and we’ll create this using 2 totally free tools called Elementor and Envato Elements.

 It’s fresh, clean and beautiful and is the ideal for anyone serious about making money.

 Plus, it’s got a ton of options to enhance its functionality so it’s perfect for our content accelerator framework.

 One of the key benefits of this theme is that it’s fully mobile responsive which means it’s going to look just as great on a tablet or phone as it does on a desktop and will allow your audience to connect with you wherever they are.

 Aside from building your website, you’ll also learn the secret sauce and exact steps we use at websitesmadeesy to turn visitors into raving fans and paying customers too!

 Content marketing is huge right now, and this theme is dialed in to ensure your content stands out by placing your content front and center, to really capture the attention of your audience.

 So how exactly do you start a money making website?

 Creating your site takes just three easy steps using my proven WTC system which is as follows:

 Step 1 – Website which is where you create your website.

 Step 2 – Traffic where I show you how I properly set up my site to get tons of quality traffic

 Step 3 – Customers, where show you how I turn traffic into subscribers and paying customers

 As mentioned we’re going to be using WordPress which is a simple web building tool which allows you to have your own website up and running in less time than it takes to make and drink a cup of coffee.

 Seriously its never been so easy to get your website up super fast..

 It’s the preferred platform of many big name brands who use it to propel their business forward because it’s super easy and intuitive to use.

 Ok so to get your website live online we need to get setup with website hosting.

 Get Free Course

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian fic - “More than a Tease” (Rated T)

When Quinn takes Kurt to a theme Halloween party, he gets the chance to "face his fear". Since he can't think of one, he writes that his fear is spending an evening alone with Sebastian Smythe. It's a safe thing to say. No one has seen Sebastian since graduation, so there's no fear for Kurt to face.

Kurt has no clue that they'd actually be able to find him. (6481 words)

Written for the @kurtoberfest prompt ‘nightmare’. Warning for mention of B*laine, angst, anxiety, mention of sexual situations, and not particularly Quinn or Rachel friendly.

Read on AO3.

“Soooo, where are we going?” Kurt asks, speed-walking beside Quinn as she leads him past a handful of frat parties already in progress. It’s only going on nine o’clock in the evening, but a bunch of these parties look like they’ve gotten out of hand. Kurt and Quinn have walked by houses with one or more people hanging out of windows, one where a young man was attempting to ski off the roof, and another where a handful of drunk sorority sisters were targeting passersby with shaving cream filled balloons. Seeing as Kurt has personal experience with a variation of one of those – an experience that still haunts him - the further down the line they go, the more anxious he becomes.

“You’ll see,” she says with a self-satisfied quirk to her prim lips. She’s been keeping her answers short and sweet, not giving away a thing.

And it’s peeving Kurt off big time.

When Kurt had decided to accept Quinn’s invitation for a visit to Yale, Halloween weekend was the only time he could get off work. And that was fine. Aside from the prospect of attending the annual costume contest at Callbacks, then getting pelted by eggs on the way home, he had nothing exciting planned. Actually, considering everything that had been going on in his life lately, he’d hoped the change of pace would do him good. He knew that Quinn lived on campus, and that campus life was an alternate universe compared to what he had going for him right now – sharing a loft in Bushwick with Rachel and commuting daily to NYADA – but he definitely had a different idea of what they would be doing. As far as he knew, the students at Yale were the “cream of the crop”. The way his high school guidance counselor talked about Yale, Kurt got the impression that the school teemed with the blue blooded teenagers of America. He figured they’d spend the night handing out candy to the tiny hobgoblins of the New England elite, then maybe go to some upscale party, probably masquerade in nature, where lavish costumes a la the movie Dangerous Liaisons were required.

He didn’t think that what they’d actually be doing was crashing a kegger.

“Well, you didn’t have us get dressed in costume,” Kurt points out, his comment laced with disappointment, “so … oh please tell me we’re not going to one of those Christian redemption house things! Where they try to scare you straight with re-enactments of abortions and drug overdoses!”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” she says, having the nerve to laugh. “Who do you think I am?”

“But is it a haunted house?” Kurt asks, because he isn’t too keen on those either. He never understood the appeal of going somewhere just to get scared out of your wits. Plus, a lot of the more adult aimed haunted houses tend to be “interactive”. He swears, if someone dressed as a ghoul or a zombie gropes him in the dark, he’s reaching for his pepper spray. He doesn’t care what kind of trouble he gets into. But more worrying than that, he doesn’t want to risk getting fake blood on his jeans. That stuff never comes out.

“It’s going to be scary,” Quinn reveals, “just on a different scale.”

“Oh, God,” Kurt groans. “We’re going to do math homework. Or physics. That’s how you smart kids get your kicks, isn’t it? There’s a reason why I didn’t apply to Yale, Quinn!”

“Come along, Kurt.” She grabs his arm and pulls him along, and ow! How did he not realize before now how remarkably strong she is for her stature? “Keep moving. You’re going to enjoy yourself, I promise. And besides, it’s for charity.”

She sings that last part like it’s some huge selling point, but now that Kurt’s out of high school and no longer needs to find ways to pad his college application, he’s become a little less charitable, especially when he needs to pay rent and feed himself on a waiter’s salary.

They make their way to the end of the block, to a house that isn’t as gorily decorated as the others, and where the music is being blasted at a surprisingly reasonable level. There’s no one hanging out of the windows, no couples going at it on the front lawn, no one chucking stuff at them from off the roof.

Kurt approves.

Well, this seems okay, Kurt says to himself, thinking that maybe he should have put more trust in Quinn. This party does look to be more his speed.

“Hey, Peg!” Quinn waves at the smiling strawberry blonde standing by the open front door, greeting guests as they enter.

“Hey, Quinn!” The girl’s green eyes light up when she sees them. “I’m so glad you could make it! Who’s your friend?”

“This” - Quinn shoves Kurt forward one-handed. When did she switch from cheerleading to wrestling? - “is Kurt Hummel. He’s a friend of mine from Lima.”

“Hey.” Kurt waves uncomfortable, almost nose to nose with the girl at the door when Quinn pushes him ahead.

“Hey, Kurt.” Peg giggles, bouncing on her feet. She can’t seem to stand still for longer than three seconds at a time. She’s either really excited about the party, Kurt decides, or she’s dipped into the bowl of candy by her side one too many times.

“Why don’t you tell us what’s going on here tonight?” Quinn prompts Peg to give them a “spiel”, and Kurt gets the vague suspicion that he’s been set-up. From a quick glimpse inside, Kurt doesn’t see anyone dressed as ghouls or zombies. It doesn’t even look like anyone’s getting drunk, so that only leaves one other possibility.

They are doing something educational! Quinn! You fiend!

“Okay!” Peg claps her hands together and plants herself on her heels, and Kurt figures out the reason for her undying perkiness.

She’s a cheerleader.

“Well, the theme of tonight’s party is Face Your Fears.” Peg introduces it in a spooky voice and using spirit fingers, as if that’s going to terrify him. This girl is five foot nothing and probably 100 pounds soaking wet. “So, we’re inviting our guests to face their fears.” She thrusts specially printed name tags their way. They’re white with a bloody outline dripping in to the writing space. On the top, printed in black letters (Comic Sans, Kurt notices, and quietly judges), are the words, “My nightmare is …”

“We ask that people keep them small, you know,” Peg says. “Things you can work on locally, and tonight, if possible. Though if you’re afraid of bugs, we have a gentleman here all the way from the Museum of Natural History who’s offered to take four lucky students to the Entomology department to try and work on that. And if you’re afraid of heights, we’re having a drawing later to win a bungee jump adventure for two hosted by Luxergy.”

“Wow.” Kurt’s moderately impressed. “That’s kind of awesome. But, I’m not afraid of bugs. Or heights.”

Her left shoulder pops up in a shrug. “I’m sure you can come up with something.”

“Come on.” Quinn elbows Kurt in the side. “You came all this way. Give it a go. Write something down.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Kurt bats her arm away. “Keep your angular elbows to yourself.”

Kurt looks at the bloody paper, the space inside blank as his mind has gone. He has no idea what to write. He’s only had a handful of fears. A lot of the ones he lived with growing up, he’s conquered – not having the courage to be himself, not having the strength to stand up to bullies, not getting into the college of his choice, not being able to make it on his own.

But his real fears aren’t things he can work on here, at a frat party. They’re things he may never be able to overcome.

That he could have done something to keep his mom from dying, even though he can’t imagine how.

That he’ll never make it on Broadway, no matter how hard he tries.

That Santana was right and Blaine really did move on with Dave because he was tired of him.

Everything else isn’t exactly a fear, per se. Not of nightmare proportions. More like a series of mild apprehensions, daunting though they are. But he isn’t going to open up about them, not at a Halloween party, so he puts down the first stupid thing that pops into his head. Under the heading, “My nightmare is …” Kurt writes, “spending an evening alone with Sebastian Smythe.”

Yeah, Kurt thinks, that works. Not only is it kind of true (he had once or twice wondered what might happen if the two of them ever found themselves at The Lima Bean alone together, or in the bathroom at Scandals), but good luck tracking him down. Last Kurt heard, after Sebastian graduated from Dalton, an hour later, he hopped on the first plane to Paris.

Goodbye, good riddance.

Kurt peels his name tag off its backing and carefully places it on his shirt. He watches Quinn deliberate over her own name tag, ready to poke fun at her for taking too long, when a voice in the crowd calls out, “Quinny! Hey! Quinny!”

“Quinny?” Kurt jeers, but Quinn doesn’t seem to mind the nickname. Kurt watches her pensive expression completely transform. She bites her lower lip, her cheeks pink, and a grin the size of the Holland Tunnel spreads across her face, and Kurt begins to suspect why they’re really here.

Charity, his ass!

“Hey, Quinny!” The man bounds out from the mass of people - literally jumps out of the crowd - landing so close to Kurt, he has to take a step back so as not to get tackled to the ground.

“Hey, Glenn,” Quinn says with a bat of her eyes, putting the man, panting like a puppy, out of his misery. “What’s up?”

“Not much. I’m glad you could make it. I was afraid you weren’t going to show.”

“Well, we had a few other things to do, but we managed to find time to fit you guys in.”

A few other things? Kurt scoffs silently. They’d been sitting in her room watching old show choir videos before they decided to head out, and then came straight here!

“So, have you guys had a chance to finish your name tags?”

“I haven’t,” Quinn says. “But Kurt has.”

“Oh, yeah?” Glenn’s blue eyes zero in on Kurt, glaring for a second, but he seems to determine that Kurt is no threat to him getting with Quinn, and he smiles. “Let me see!”

Glenn reaches for Kurt. Kurt nearly slaps Glenn when he grabs his shirt to take a look at his tag.

“My nightmare is spending an evening alone with Sebastian Smythe.” Glenn chuckles, but his brow wrinkles. “Wait a minute?” Kurt sees Glenn mouth the sentence, trying to put something together. “Aren’t you guys from Ohio?”

“Yeah …” Kurt looks at Quinn, who looks back at him with a confused look on her face.

“Oh, ho!” Glenn crows. “You can’t mean … yo!” Glenn turns to the crowd, cupping a hand to the side of his mouth to help his voice carry. “Seb! Sebastian Smythe! Come here, man!”

“What!?” Kurt’s heart slams to a stop. He feels his insides frost over like the Auglaize River in the dead of winter. “Wait, wait, wait ...” Kurt grabs Glenn by the arm. “No. You don’t mean … Sebastian Smythe goes to Yale?”

“Duh. He’s one of my best bros.” Glenn smiles like a jackal, the way any close friend of Sebastian’s would by default.

Kurt releases Glenn’s arm as if it had suddenly burst into flames and turns on his friend.

“Lucy Quinn Fabray!” Kurt growls. “You did not tell me that Sebastian Smythe attends Yale!”

“I didn’t know!” She laughs nervously. “It’s a big school. You could have been going here and I probably wouldn’t have known unless you outright told me.”

“What is it, Glenn?” a familiar voice - a voice Kurt had never planned on hearing again - calls above the crowd. As it comes closer, Kurt considers ducking into the group of men playing beer pong to the left of them, but he doesn’t commit to that decision quick enough. A pair of green eyes hones in on him. The smile that follows is sly, but surprisingly less predatory than Glenn’s. “Hey! Princess Hummel!” When Kurt finally sees Sebastian’s face, he looks the same as the Sebastian that Kurt remembers, minus the mile-high hair and the overly confident, conniving grin. This Sebastian has a semi-shaved head, and a more mellow demeanor. Whether it’s because he’s slightly tipsy or just slightly changed, Kurt doesn’t know. “You go here?”

“No,” Kurt replies sharply. He decides to stick to one word answers. It seems safer that way.

“Oh, yeah. That’s right. You’re going to that performing arts school. Uh …” Sebastian snaps his fingers, trying to remember the name.

“NYADA,” Kurt supplies when Sebastian’s absently snapping fingers creep closer to his face.

“That’s right. NYADA.” He points, signifying the end of his guessing with his fingernail dangerously close to Kurt’s nose. Sebastian looks around. He peeks over Kurt’s shoulder, then looks questioningly at Quinn. He scrunches his nose. “Aren’t you light about a buck sixty?”

“What?” Kurt glances down his body and puts a hand to his belly, assuming Sebastian is commenting on Kurt finally shedding his baby fat. It would be like Sebastian to pinpoint one of Kurt’s insecurities and find the need to remark about it.

“I think he’s talking about Blaine,” Quinn says helpfully.

“Oh,” Kurt says flatly, relieved, but then immediately offended again. Same diff. And of course Sebastian would be looking for Blaine. Blaine was a large part of Sebastian’s reason for loathing Kurt. Kurt wasn’t good enough for Blaine according to Sebastian, but Sebastian thought he was. “No. We’re not together anymore. I broke up with him.” Kurt adds that last part mainly so that Sebastian doesn’t get the idea that Blaine did the dumping, thus adding credibility to Sebastian’s previously held belief.

Sebastian makes an unexpectedly impressed face. “Good for you.” He punches Kurt lightly on the shoulder as if they’re friends. “I know that I kind of had the hots for him back in high school, but he really was kind of a one-trick pony. I always thought you could do so much better.”

Kurt’s jaw drops unceremoniously to his knees, but before Kurt has the chance to ask what Sebastian means by that, if he’s trying to be nice for once or if this is some new form of torment, Glenn cuts in.

“Hey, Smythe. Check out his name tag. Apparently his biggest fear is spending an evening alone with you.”

Kurt’s eyes bug out of his skull. He raises a hand to cover the tag. He had forgotten for a split second that he’d been wearing the damn thing. That the whole reason he was having this conversation with Sebastian was because of it. Jesus Christ! Couldn’t Kurt have thought up something else? Like Scottish fold kittens? Or cheesecake? If they were going to assault him with something they thought he was afraid of, he should have had the sense to pick something that would have worked in his favor.

“Is that so?” Sebastian coos at Kurt as if he’s fluffy and adorable, like the Scottish fold kitten Kurt should have said he’s afraid of. “Who knew I’d have such a lasting affect?” His eyes sparkle, too reminiscent of the way they did back in high school when he’d come up with some devious plan to manipulate the New Directions into doing whatever he wanted. But instead of getting angry at Sebastian the way Sebastian deserved, Kurt just wanted to get the hell out of there.

“It’s---it’s not that,” Kurt stammers while he considers burrowing into the floor beneath him. With the help of adrenaline, he’s pretty sure he can make it through the wood boards using brute hand strength. It’s the concrete foundation of the house that might prove a bit tricky. “It’s just …”

“So, Sebastian. You gonna help this poor guy out?” Glenn continues the conversation without the go ahead from Kurt, as if he’s on some sort of mission to get Kurt and Sebastian together.

“No!” Kurt yells before Sebastian can answer. “I don’t want to spend the night with him!”

Glenn shoots a look at Sebastian as if Kurt’s reaction just proved the existence of Kurt’s own made-up fear. Kurt wishes Quinn had taken them to a regular old haunted house. Being groped by zombies sounds much more fun than what’s going on presently. He turns pleading eyes on her, hoping for help, but he should have already guessed that he’d have no such luck.

“Come on, Kurt,” she prods with another elbow to his side. But she’s not looking at him. She’s trading goo-goo eyes with Glenn. “It’s for charity.”

But Kurt’s not buying it, and he’s insulted at being used as a flirtation device. “And how does that work exactly? You didn’t tell me to bring my wallet.”

“We operate through a special program called Fraternities for Change,” Glenn explains. “We turn our social status on campus into a power for good. For every person who participates …”

“A dude bro gets their wings?” Kurt finishes, unmoved by their efforts, no matter how sincere, as long as the outcome equals spend an evening alone with Sebastian Smythe.

“No. Our parent organization and the alumni have pledged a donation to the charity of our choice,” Sebastian pitches in. “My parents have promised to match what we make here tonight. A lot of the guys’ folks have.”

“And which charity is that?” Quinn asks, as if she doesn’t already know. Kurt crosses his arms, preparing to remain immune. He doesn’t care what tree-hugging, whale protecting, children feeding, grass roots organization this frat is cutting a check to, Kurt refuses to be a part of it.

“The ACLU.”

Kurt opens his mouth to object sarcastically, but he can’t since the ACLU is one of his all-time favorite organizations. If he was ever going to part with any of his own hard-earned cash in support of a cause, the ACLU would definitely be among his top 5, tied somewhere between the Born this Way Foundation and The Trevor Project.

Damn it.

Kurt sighs. How did a promising Halloween-slash-vacation turn into such a disaster?

Kurt looks from Glenn’s eager face, to Quinn’s superior smile, then finally to Sebastian’s amused but unassuming grin. So, this is what between a rock and a hard place looks like? Kurt thought he’d visited there many times before, but obviously not.

Strange that Sebastian’s expression should be the most sympathetic of the three. He’s the only person staring at Kurt who doesn’t seem to have a hidden agenda.

“Fine,” Kurt concedes. “I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” Glenn rubs his hands together like an old timey villain. “So, whaddya say, Seb? Ready to help this nice young man conquer his biggest fear?”

“Absolutely.” Sebastian slaps a hand down on Kurt’s shoulder, fixing him with a devilish look to match Glenn’s. “Kurt Hummel? For one whole night, you are mine.”

“Great.” Kurt quickly makes a mental note to re-write his will … and scratch Quinn out of it. “I can’t wait.”

***

Kurt and Sebastian agree to meet at eight o’clock the following evening in Quinn’s room. She has a fairly large suite with a flat screen TV and its own kitchenette, enviable by dorm room standards. If NYADA offered rooms like this one at a price he could afford, Kurt would jump at it in a minute. Living in the loft, even with its massive amount of space, has begun to wear on him. It’s drafty in the winter, hot in the summer, the walls cry when it rains, and the neighborhood keeps him on edge. Besides, it would be nice to live closer to Vogue and to school. He could participate more with the happenings on campus, delve deeper into the college experience, make a few more friends than he has now.

Then maybe he’d have something better to do during his free time than to nurse Rachel’s ego.

Kurt has the room to himself since Quinn doesn’t have a roommate this semester. But also, to smooth the process along, Glenn asked Quinn out on a date, and Quinn accepted, solely for the purpose of helping Kurt out, of course. Kurt was astounded by Quinn’s behavior at the party. She seemed more than happy to toss Kurt to the wolves in an effort to get a date with this man.

What in the heck happened to her between high school and college? Where had their strong, independent, ex-Cheerio who didn’t need a man in her life go?

Well, whatever. One thing’s for certain - see if Kurt ever accepts one of her invitations to Connecticut again.  

The entire day, Kurt considers calling off his and Sebastian’s “date” (if it can be termed that; Kurt is hard pressed to give their arrangement a name), which would be difficult considering he told Sebastian where he was staying, but they didn’t exchange phone numbers or any other contact information. Maybe Kurt should consider not opening the door when Sebastian shows up. Or Kurt could just not be there. He could go down to the dining hall, take a trip to the mall.

Pack up his things and hop on the first train he can find back to New York.

But then there’s the fact that this is a golden (well, more like gold-plated) opportunity to get to know the man who made it his pastime to declare open season on Kurt’s self-esteem for half a year. Kurt had always wanted to know - out of sheer, morbid curiosity – what made Sebastian tick. It didn’t strike Kurt until he went from being apprehensive about Sebastian’s visit to nearly panic stricken that he didn’t know anything about the man other than he’s an ass.

The student body at Dalton spread numerous rumors about Sebastian (far and wide enough that they’d reached Kurt’s ears all the way in Lima) and what he’d been doing in France, including tales of bizarre sexual fetishes, orgies, drinking, and drugs. Then there were the stories of the heartbroken boys he’d conned out of their virginities, one who they claim Sebastian had won in a game of cards - because that kind of thing happens in France.

Kurt had also heard several stories concerning Sebastian’s father, that the man was controlling to the point of being emotionally abusive; that, as a state’s attorney, he was a heartless bastard, grooming his son to be a heartless bastard just like him in the hopes that Sebastian would someday follow in his footsteps.

Kurt had also heard somewhere that Sebastian’s father didn’t care one way or another what his son did as long as he got good grades and didn’t get arrested.

Kurt didn’t know if any of that was true, but here was his chance to get the scoop right from the horse’s mouth.

But did Kurt want it?

Sebastian had never given Kurt any indication that he was anything other than a self-centered asshole, and as Maya Angelou said, "When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time." Kurt knows Sebastian apologized, and that everything should be water under the bridge. Blaine had accepted Sebastian’s apology with practically no convincing whatsoever, regardless of the incident with the rock salt Slushie and the damage to his eye, but it’s not that simple for Kurt.

Because Blaine wasn’t the one constantly being told he wasn’t good enough for his boyfriend.

Kurt was.

And Blaine wasn’t the one biting his tongue while his boyfriend texted someone who wasn’t only openly belligerent towards him, but vying for his boyfriend’s affection behind his back.

Kurt was.

Would Kurt be a hypocrite for not giving Sebastian a second chance? Kurt was willing to give Dave another chance, and Dave had physically abused him - tossed him into dumpsters, slammed him into lockers, threw Slushies in his face, threatened his life. Sebastian had never done anything along those lines to Kurt. Scheming and blackmailing shouldn’t be counted on the same level as physical assault. Technically, what Dave Karofsky did to Kurt was worse.

Still, there was something a bit more sinister to the way Sebastian bullied Kurt as opposed to the way Dave did. Dave went after Kurt daily, ruthlessly, and for years, but Kurt wasn’t Dave’s real issue. Kurt was an outlet.

Dave hated Kurt as an extension of hating himself. Dave needed help. He needed to be educated.

Sebastian, an out and proud gay teenager who had no problem revealing his sexual orientation to anyone, simply hated Kurt – period.

Kurt sighs. How did he let himself get stuck in this situation? He didn’t have to agree to their terms. He could just as easily have written them a check for $25 and called it a day. Why did he let himself get shoehorned into an evening with Sebastian? If Sebastian was the reformed guy he claimed to be, he would have accepted no for an answer.

Wouldn’t he have?

As the clock ticks closer to eight, Kurt clutches on to the only hope he has - Sebastian could decide not to show up. That’s an option. It could happen. Kurt was never Sebastian’s type anyway. Sebastian could have agreed to this to save face in front of a friend who put him on the spot, with no intention of ever following thru. It’s reasonable. It makes sense. And Kurt wouldn’t hold it against him.

Shave-and-a-haircut tapping on the door at the stroke of eight blows that hope out of the water.

Opening the door and seeing Sebastian standing in the hallway, carrying a backpack over one shoulder, finishes it off, driving it straight into its grave.

Kurt’s stomach drops to his knees.

“Hey,” Sebastian says.

“Hey.”

“Well. I’m here.” Sebastian rolls to the balls of his feet. He looks nervous. It’s kind of … dare Kurt think … cute?

“Yes, you are,” Kurt confirms, but he doesn’t move aside to let Sebastian in. Kurt’s not convinced that Sebastian means to stay. He never struck Kurt as a guy who’d keep his word in a situation that doesn’t directly benefit him.

Sebastian would get nothing out of coming here tonight, unless …

Sebastian doesn’t expect Kurt to sleep with him, does he?

Shit! Kurt hadn’t considered that. But if there is any truth to those Dalton rumors about Sebastian and his infamous one-night stands, it would fit his m.o. Kurt normally doesn’t give weight to rumors. He’s surrounded by too many. But if interning at Vogue has taught him anything about gossip, it’s that if different people repeatedly spread the same rumor, there might be a shred of truth to it.

And Kurt has heard the rumors about Sebastian’s sex-tracurricular activities from a variety of sources.

Including Blaine.

“So …” Sebastian says, waiting patiently for Kurt to do something – either let him in or slam the door in his face.

Kurt does neither.

He looks perpetually confused.

“So … what do we do now?” Kurt asks. He assumes Sebastian will say something like, “Nothing. I showed up. I fulfilled my end of this bargain. It’s been swell, but I have to jet.”

But he doesn’t.

“We agreed that you’re mine for one night.” Sebastian pulls his backpack off his shoulder and unzips it. “So I get to choose.” He opens his bag - a bag Kurt can only imagine is filled with ropes, handcuffs, and painful sex toys.

(Yup, Kurt’s imagination might be running away from him a tad.)

When Sebastian pulls out a fistful of jewel cases, Kurt rolls his eyes. Porn. Great. Couldn’t they stream that off the Internet and save Sebastian the trouble of lugging it around? Or are these vintage?

“Okay. Movie marathon time. I brought over Star Wars, Winter Soldier, The Matrix, and District 9.”

Kurt’s eyebrows shoot up at Sebastian’s movie selection. “Come again?”

“You heard me,” Sebastian says, weeding his way into the room. “Though I kind of have you pegged for a Winter Soldier man. I figure the whole Sebastian Stan smoky eye thing really gets you going.” Sebastian drops his backpack on the floor by Quinn’s futon and starts making himself at home, toeing off his sneakers and tossing off his jacket. The top of Sebastian’s backpack unzipped and hanging open, Kurt tries to sneak a peek at what else might be in there, what instruments of torture. The movies are a prelude, right? A vanilla, false sense of security before the salvo begins? “So, should I make some popcorn or something?”

“Oh, uh … I don’t think Quinn has any …”

“No probs. I brought some.” Sebastian swings back around and grabs his bag, making Kurt, who’d been concentrating on it a little too hard, jump. “I’ll pop it in the microwave, no pun intended, put on a movie … oh, and we can play cards.”

“Cards!?”

“Yeah. I brought an UNO deck. You do know how to play UNO, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, but …”

“Great!” Sebastian tosses the deck Kurt’s way, chuckling when Kurt flails to catch it. “Let the fun begin!”

Four hours they spend watching movies and playing UNO, but they don’t really carry on a conversation. Sebastian tries. He talks about what he’s been doing since high school, his major in college, the last vacation he took, the last movie he saw. And Kurt listens, but he doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t offer any insights into his own life thus far. Kurt is sort of stunned by this, by him. He’ll acknowledge that, whatever Sebastian believes is going on between them, he’s making a concerted effort to be friendly, but Kurt can’t seem to reciprocate. Then Sebastian says something about Blaine, and Kurt tunes him out the way he usually does at the mention of that name.

Kurt can’t seem to get comfortable with the idea of Sebastian being there, of Sebastian being nice to him, of him and Sebastian having anything in common, which they do. Ironically, they do. Kurt can’t help seeing this whole evening as the precursor to something else, some insidious plot.

He’s waiting for the anvil to drop, because there has to be one hanging overhead somewhere where Sebastian is involved.

The credits roll on District 9 and Sebastian yawns. He rolls his shoulders back, which realigns his spine (evidenced by the loud cracking in his back). He glances down at his phone sitting by his right knee and honestly looks surprised. “Wow! It’s after midnight. Who would have guessed, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, nodding like a bobble head on the dash of a moving car. “I thought Quinn would be back by now, but …”

Sebastian mirrors Kurt’s space-filler nod, but when Kurt doesn’t complete his sentence, Sebastian sighs. It’s a sigh that sounds like Sebastian expected something more, but he’s come to the realization that he’s not going to get it. “Well, it’s getting late. I think I’m going to head out, if that’s alright by you.”

Kurt watches Sebastian collect his stuff, bewildered at how this night is ending. Kurt should feel relieved, right? He expected the worst case scenario, but he has to admit, he got one of the best.

Why does he feel so disappointed?

Maybe because the great Sebastian Smythe didn’t live up to Kurt’s adolescent expectations. He didn’t show up spewing vitriol, but he didn’t ply Kurt with lame pick-up lines or try to force himself on him, either.

What did Kurt want from Sebastian anyway?

“Wait …” Kurt follows Sebastian off the futon. “That’s … that’s it?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, buttoning up his jacket. “Why? What were you expecting?”

“I … I don’t know,” Kurt lies, because he sure as hell had a few ideas, some that almost had him searching Quinn’s medicine cabinet, praying he’d stumble across a prescription bottle of valium. Right before Sebastian showed up, some of those ideas involved whips, handcuffs, and cell phone videos Kurt would be paying his entire life not to have uploaded to the Internet. “I didn’t expect you to be a tremendous nerd, for one.”

“Hey” - Sebastian throws his backpack strap over his shoulder - “I’m a geek. Not a nerd. Learn your terminology before you try to insult me. Though ...” He waves a hand in front of his nose “… that cologne you seem to spray on everything did that first. And you said I bathe in CW.”

“Hold---hold on a second. I don’t …”

Sebastian stops at the door with Kurt trailing behind. “Don’t what? Don’t want me to leave. Awww, shucks. I didn’t think you’d be such a softie.”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that I thought …”

“Yeah?” Sebastian raises an eyebrow. A hesitation passes between them. It starts with the expression on Sebastian’s face that stops Kurt’s confession in its tracks, because the way Sebastian is looking at Kurt leads Kurt to believe that the next sentence out of his mouth may hurt Sebastian’s feelings.

“Well, I thought … you were … going to make me have sex with you or something.”

From the way Sebastian’s smile dips, then slides up again, but only in one corner, Kurt knows he was right about hurting Sebastian’s feelings. That smirk is Sebastian’s first line of defense. He’s constructing a wall, and like a master brick layer, he’s had plenty of practice. “You thought I was going to come to your room and perpetrate sexual assault?”

“No,” Kurt answers quickly, horrified with himself for how terrible it sounds because, yes, that’s kind of exactly what he pictured. “I just thought … well, you kind of have a reputation.”

Sebastian’s smirk carves itself deeper into his face. “How do you know my reputation? You didn’t even know I was here.”

“But, that whole thing in high school with Blaine, constantly trying to tear us apart and stuff ...”

“That was high school, and I was kind of an insecure jerk. I’m big enough to admit that. I thought that maybe, of all people, you’d get that.” Sebastian looks down at his shoes, his eyes burning holes in the toes. “Do you think I don’t know how much of a bastard I was to you in high school?” Sebastian runs a hand through his hair, sorting through his thoughts for a better apology. “Well, I do. And I had no idea how in the world I’d be able to make that up to you. I thought you’d never really forgive me.”

“I did forgive you,” Kurt says, but it sounds about as believable as the time he tried to convince everybody that he was straight.

“No, you didn’t,” Sebastian says. “Blaine did, but not you. But after I found out that you forgave that hulking behemoth Dave after everything he did to you, I thought you’d be able to forgive me, too. That maybe we could start at the beginning and become friends, leave the drama of high school behind.” Sebastian sighs. He shakes his head. “You have no idea how hard I’ve tried to get away from Dalton, those rumors, and … and everything.”

Kurt feels like dirt because he does know. He knows exactly what it’s like to try and leave something behind you just to have it show up at your front door when you least expect it. Try as he might to leave Lima and McKinley to the past, they always seem to find a way to drop in on him and scramble his life around, usually in the form of a person that he’d thought he’d never see again.

Santana.

Sue Sylvester.

And now Sebastian.

But where the first two he could do without, he’s finding that he should have given consideration to the third, especially compared to how Sebastian re-entered his life as opposed to the others.

Santana and Sue barged into Kurt’s world, declared residency, then went back to business as usual as if they had never left Ohio.

Sebastian, on the other hand, approached Kurt with a smile on his face and a compliment in his mouth. And yet Kurt accommodated the other two and remained suspicious of Sebastian. Why? Why did he do that?

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says. “I---I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“No,” Sebastian says, raising his eyes to look at Kurt, his face solemn, “you shouldn’t have. Because then you might have enjoyed yourself tonight. But I guess that’s why you were afraid of me, huh?”

“I wasn’t really afraid of you,” Kurt admits. “I just wrote that because I couldn’t think of anything else to write. And I never thought they’d be able to find you.”

“Fair enough. But let me ask you an honest question …”

Kurt braces himself for Sebastian to ask him if he wants to be his friend. Does he want to start at the beginning and get to know him? Because after that confession, his answer is yes. Absolutely.

But, in what’s becoming true Sebastian form, throwing Kurt a curve ball when he’s expecting a fast ball, that’s not what Sebastian asks.

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

Kurt sucks in a breath, but he doesn’t answer right away. Yes? No? How does he answer that question? Has he ever thought about it? Yes, he has. Would he ever act on it? Even for a one-night stand? Possibly. He’s not sure. He never thought he’d ever be confronted with the option, so he never thought it through well enough to come up with an answer.

The one he does come up with sucks ass, and not in a good way.

“I guess. I mean, I was kind of curious what all the fuss was about.”

Sebastian nods, tight jaw tightening more, and inside Kurt’s chest, his lungs freeze, trying its best to strangle him before he says anything else offensive. Because not until that moment does it dawn on Kurt that Sebastian’s question wasn’t meant as an offer. It was a test, Sebastian trying to find out which camp Kurt belongs in – the one with people who want to be his friends, or the one where people get with him on reputation alone.

And, thoughtlessly, Kurt failed that test.

“Ask a stupid question,” Sebastian mutters, opening the front door. “Goodbye, Kurt. I’ll see you around.” Sebastian walks through the door and shuts it behind him, leaving Kurt at a loss for words, especially since Kurt doesn’t go to Yale.

So no, Sebastian won’t be seeing him around.

[charly-ra]

10 Marketing Automation Trends That Will Shape 2019

Marketing is increasingly driven by data and technology. Nowhere is that more evident than in marketing automation.

It’s enabled us to do some pretty cool things. Most B2B marketers, for example, have moved beyond the simplest forms of marketing automation. We can send welcome emails and autoresponders in our sleep. We’ve got the email part of marketing automation down.

Now it’s time for B2B marketing automation to shift into multichannel messaging, even personalized, real-time multichannel messaging.

And that’s only one of B2B marketers’ new capabilities. As AI and machine learning gain wider use, marketing automation is set to get increasingly more sophisticated and impressive. It���s both exciting… and a little daunting.

So if you’re ready for the brave new world (or at least 2019’s version of it), here are the B2B marketing automation trends most likely to have the biggest impact. We’ve chosen these trends based on research wherever possible, so while this list may have some opinions in it, it’s mostly based on data. Which seems appropriate, given the state of marketing automation in 2019.

The most successful marketers will be those who manage their data best.

Marketing has become a data wonk’s job. Everything runs on data now – pretty much every trend mentioned here is data-driven: Personalization, Multichannel, Improving the Customer Journey, you name it.

Data management is complex of course. That’s why it’s a challenge, and often mentioned as a primary barrier to marketing automation success (only strategy seems to give marketers as much trouble).

And “data management” is a very general term. To rock marketing automation like we want to, data has to be accurate and formatted correctly so it can be accessed. It has to be current, and you’ll have to figure out a way to keep that data “clean” so no delayed process ends up updating a field with outdated information.

Managing all those data inputs can be tough. And it isn’t going to get any easier. The number of data sources used by most marketing organizations is actually increasing.

Don’t expect this to change all that much in 2019. The real thing to expect is that the marketers who can figure out how to turn their data from a cacophony into a symphony will do better and better.

And while data management is a big job… it can be done. “47% of marketers say they have a completely unified view of customer data sources” according to Salesforce.

You want to be in that half.

More B2B marketers will use multichannel messaging – and use it well.

For years, “marketing automation” has largely meant automated email marketing. More sophisticated B2B marketers moved past that a while ago, but some marketers are still “stuck” in the early phases of marketing automation.

There’s nothing wrong with that, but your prospects and customers don’t just use email. As you know all too well, they’re using social media (often several social platforms) and they’re on your site (we hope). They may even be at an in-person event now and then, and they’re almost always texting.

So expect to see more B2B tools and marketers move toward multichannel communication this year, especially because more marketers are integrating AI and machine learning into their martech.

AI and machine learning have a data-crunching power needed to pull multichannel off. It’s always been nearly impossible for human marketers to manage multichannel campaigns of any size, especially now that customers and prospects basically expect personalization and real-time messaging.

There be more personalized communications, and more personalized customer journeys.

Personalization is no longer a competitive edge – it’s a customer expectation. And yet, only 28% of marketers are “completely satisfied” with their ability to “Create personalized omni-channel customer experiences.”

  If you can get this right, though, the rewards are there: Salesforce reports that “High-performing marketers are 9.7x more likely than underperformers to be completely satisfied with their ability to personalize omni-channel experiences.”

What B2B marketers can do now with marketing automation is truly impressive… and at the same time, to some customers and prospects, we’ve finally achieved what they’ve been expecting for so long: To give them the information that’s relevant and useful to them, and nothing else.

More B2B marketers will implement real-time communication.

You know the cliché: Strike while the iron is hot. Well, it applies to marketing automation in spades, and smart marketers are chasing this capability down.

To give you an idea of how powerful real-time communication can be, consider the difference between response rates for welcome emails that are sent instantly versus welcome emails that are “batched” and sent out a bit later.

The real-time emails get 10X the engagement.

What would your marketing reports look like with 10X engagement? Heck – what would your bonus look like?

Marketing automation will be used more often for the entire customer lifecycle – not just for lead generation.

Marketing automation is great for nurturing leads, but it’s also great for customer retention and increasing customer lifetime value. We’ve known this for a while, but as marketers have had more time to grow into marketing automation, and to use it more confidently throughout their marketing, we’re finally seeing the full lifecycle use show up.

40% of marketers in a recent survey said that “prospect/customer re-engagement” is one of the most effective tactics for optimizing marketing automation.

If your current marketing automation program is only “sort of” profitable, an automated re-engagement program could be an easy way to move it into the black. Re-engagement programs are generally the low hanging fruit of marketing programs: They can generate strong results with just a little bit of work.

All you’d need to do to set up a marketing automation re-engagement “program” is to:

Ask your IT department (or your own marketing software, in some cases) when customers/clients tend to dis-engage.

Have a copywriter write you a series of re-engagement emails.

Get the emails designed and set up.

Start testing.

The opportunity for re-engagement emails is particularly ripe. Only 10% of marketers are sending re-activation emails according to a recent survey.

Lead quality will continue to beat lead quantity.

The shift to lead quality over lead quantity has been going on for a while now. It’s a sign of how marketing automation is becoming more effective.

Of course, lead quality can mean many things. It can refer to whether leads are Sales qualified, how long leads take to mature into sales, and the value of leads. Those are all more granular measurements of the same trend: Better leads are better than more leads.

Sales will welcome this, for sure. They’ve spent too much time already following up on weak leads. Actually, the quality of leads (however you measure them) could be an excellent metric for tracking that elusive Sales and marketing integration.

Marketers will use marketing automation as a way to improve the customer journey/experience.

Pop quiz: What’s the single most effective way to optimize marketing automation?

According to the marketers (mostly B2B) who responded to Ascend2’s survey about marketing automation, the answer is: Customer experience mapping.

This actually makes enormous sense. In a way, marketing automation – sending pre-defined messages to people who take particular actions – is a way to shape their experience with your company. All those drip email campaigns… that’s a way to guide a customer’s experience with you.

Marketing automation is customer experience optimization.

And as you know, optimizing the customer experience is one of the single best ways to be an awesome marketer, build an awesome company, and have customers/clients who rave about you to thousands of other likely customers.

That’s why it’s been called the ultimate competitive advantage. A survey from PwC found that:

“Forty-three percent of customers would pay for a greater convenience, and 42 percent would pay for a friendlier, welcoming experience, according to the survey. Furthermore, 65 percent believe that a positive experience with a business is more influential than great advertising.”

Another survey found that “80% of customers say the experience a company provides is as important as its products and services.”

Thinking of marketing automation as an extension of optimizing customer experience could be a great way to get more budget for it. A lot of CEOs get the benefits of improving the customer experience – they know how it can affect practically every aspect of a business. And so, framing marketing automation as one way to improve customer experience could get them onboard with projects that they might otherwise have been cool about.

Strategy may continue to be a sticking point.

It’s the classic story: Marketers get attracted to cool technology, but don’t have enough of a strategy set up to really make the most of it.

Developing a marketing automation strategy should happen after you’ve defined your personas and mapped their customer journeys. Customer journey mapping will never be perfect – customers and prospects don’t move in a linear path, and they definitely don’t all do it in the same way.

But take a deep breath, accept that your customer journey plans won’t be perfect, and build your marketing automation system from there.

It will evolve the longer you use it and test it. But you have to start somewhere, and starting with a “good enough” customer journey map is far better than just diving in and starting to implement marketing automation in a little corner of your business here and there.

Use of artificial intelligence and machine learning will continue to grow.

Honestly, B2B marketing automation is probably using more machine learning than true artificial intelligence. The classic definition of AI is that it can fool a human into thinking the AI is another human; most chatbots can’t do that (yet).

But machine learning is definitely in play. The definition of machine learning is “using data to answer questions” according to Google. As mentioned above, marketing performance basically runs on data now – who wouldn’t want to use machine learning to get the data to start answering questions? That seems to be exactly what we all need.

And because marketers’ adoption of AI grew by 44% from 2017 to 2018, expect 2019 to see at least that much growth in “AI” (or machine learning).

Voice search will become the next new messaging channel for messages sent via marketing automation.

B2B marketers get such a bad rap for being behind on trends. But 32% of us are already optimizing for voice-activated personal assistants.

This is going to accelerate in 2019, and it is absolutely going to affect marketing automation. Even now, Alexa can read emails.

So… have you listened to how your automated emails sound when read? Have you looked into what your company’s customer experience is like via voice for your automated messages? Some of your competitors are already doing this.

Closing Thoughts

Marketing automation reminds me more and more of the advertising automation going on in pay per click and social media advertising. Marketers are increasingly able to sit back from routine operations (like bid edits or sending updates about a new blog post) and are moving more into data analysis and customer experience.

Having these powerful tools to work with is fantastic. It lets us do truly cool things. But the tools are really only as good as the people who use them.

Marketing automation can work really well, but it’s not magic. Even the most robust marketing automation platforms still need smart people to set them up and optimize them.

from http://bit.ly/2QWiFes

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The english language Crafting Blog. Find Out How To Jot down

The english language Crafting Blog. Find Out How To Jot down

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