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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || your newest client asks you to give him a real challenge, and you’re happy to oblige.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 6.3k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut but no actual sex (lots of handjob stuff though and some brief oral m receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, more cnc (because of the overstimulation), bondage, edging, impact play (riding crop), brief cock torture (she just hits him with the crop a couple times), implied “kink as trauma response” (this is gonna be a theme throughout the whole fic), forced to break a rule/doomed to fail/impossible challenge (idk how to warn for this but yeah), forced voyeurism?, thigh riding (reader rides bucky’s thigh), some degradation/dumbification, brief/implied dacryphilia, a bit of angst/feelings

new parts posted on thursdays! join the taglist here

“Can’t,” he sighed, “can’t come again.”

He looked so painfully adorable when he begged like that, his brow glistening with sweat as he jerked under your touch. “Aw, poor baby,” you pouted, twisting your hand when it stroked over the head of his cock, “yes you can. I know you can. Just gimme one more.”

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, “Mistress, please— just stop, please, I can’t… can’t take any more…”

“I know you can, sweetheart— I know you can be my good boy and keep coming for me. Tell me your color.”

“Yellow,” he whispered.

“Think you’re almost done?” you pressed, smiling when he nodded breathlessly. “Yeah, there’s my good boy— gonna come again for your Mistress?”

“Yes,” he breathed, baring his teeth as his hips bucked wildly to try to avoid further sensation, “y-yes, one more, just one more, I’m gonna— fuck, gonna come, just don’t stop… fuck, it hurts.”

“I know, but you’re being so good for me,” you purred. “You like it when I milk your pretty cock, don’t you? Even though it hurts?”

He winced but nodded. “C-coming, Mistress, fuck, I’m coming…!”

Since it was his fifth of the evening, he could only give you one thick drop of come that gathered at his slit before running down over your hand which finally slowed to a stop.

You both sighed with relief as you pulled your hand away and leaned back, admiring how beautiful he looked as he caught his breath, covered in come and sweat.

"Good job," you praised with a chuckle, "I hope I didn't go too hard on you."

"N-no, that was… that was really good," he sighed, slumping back onto the bed. "Can I use your shower before I go?"

"Yeah, totally," you nodded.

After a long pause, you gave him a confused look.

"I thought you were gonna shower?" you reminded him.

"Oh… I guess I have to get up for that," he sighed, making you laugh.

"Rest a bit longer. You've had a… challenging afternoon."

He nodded a little and you got up from the bed to go wash your hands and freshen up a little, smiling at your own appearance in the mirror— sometimes you forgot how you looked when you did this, but there was an undeniable aura of power around you… especially after a session like that.

This was only your third week with James, and already the dynamic felt so natural between you— and yet, so fresh compared to your other clients. Normally it took longer for a newbie to get comfortable with you, yet most of them had had multiple doms before and here was James, totally inexperienced and taking it all like a champ. There was an air of innocence about him, you figured, in contrast to this undeniable strength and intensity that you caught glimpses of from time to time.

Sometimes, it felt like he was chasing an innocence he lost a long time ago. Whatever it was that drew him to this, you were happy to help him along the way.

It was probably a little dangerous to enjoy sessions with a client so much; even though you often pretended that everything was about your pleasure and not theirs, obviously since they were the paying customer it was the complete opposite in reality. But there was an equity to the dynamic with you and Bucky, he served you with a real dedication rather than for his own gain. And you, meanwhile, had rediscovered the fun in this career that had originally drawn you to it in the first place. It was less like a science now, more like an art— you let yourself go with your instincts and do whatever felt right in the moment, and both of you benefitted for it.

“Come on, get up and clean yourself off,” you encouraged— gently, of course— as you left the bathroom and returned to find James laying sprawled out on the bed.

“I know you said falling asleep here was a one-time courtesy,” he remembered with a smile, “but I could use it now a lot more than I needed it then.”

Honestly, you didn’t see him smile that often. It was pleasant; you hoped to see it again. He did get up, though, and take the washcloth you handed him to wipe off the come that had gotten all over him. “What are you thinking for next week?” you asked as you leaned against the wall. “Any special requests?”

“We can discuss all that over the phone,” he decided. You still didn’t understand fully why he didn’t like to discuss future scenes in person; it was like he wanted the in-person interactions to be as ‘in character’ (if you will) as possible.

“Alright, just keep me updated,” you requested with a shrug.

You got changed while he took his shower, and when he emerged to the living room he seemed surprised to see you sitting on your own couch. After a moment, you realized it was the fact that you were in normal clothes that threw him off. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans before… or pants of any kind.”

You looked down at your outfit with a smile, glad it was at least still professional and not sweats and a t-shirt or something. “Yeah, I guess you haven’t. First time for everything, right?”

“Yeah, had a lot of first times with you,” he chuckled. “Most significantly less mundane than this.”

A brief silence filled the room but it wasn’t exactly awkward, at least not for you.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” he decided as he grabbed his jacket from your chair and slipped it on. You’d been spending most of this session trying to forget how good he looked in the leather motorcycle cut, so that was out the window now as you tried to keep from visibly biting your lip while he walked towards the door.

Damn, he was fine. But there were more pressing matters at hand. Like preparing yourself and your apartment for your next appointment. This guy wanted to get slapped around until he cried… shouldn't be too difficult, but your arms would probably be sore tomorrow.

Opposite of last week, I really want you to edge me tonight, as long as possible.

Don't go easy on me, make me hold it in. I need a challenge this week.

-J

It was odd how emails from James made your week.

He seemed to prefer to communicate his desire with you this way; maybe it was easier for him, and you couldn’t really blame him for that. The nice part was that you didn’t have to temper your reactions, if you had any, since you were always alone when you got his messages. You might be old hat at it now, but you could remember a time that you had to hide a grimace when a client told you to your face what he wanted. Not that you would shame them for it or anything (unless, you know, they paid you to), but you didn’t enjoy everything you did with these men.

Did you enjoy everything you did with James? Yes, but you were pretending not to— for your own sake.

You dressed a bit differently for today’s session, more conservatively… not that it was especially conservative by any other person’s standards. But it left your legs and chest covered, somewhat in the spirit of ‘mean corporate businesswoman’ aesthetically. For some reason you felt like using a riding crop required wearing pants.

James certainly didn’t seem to mind, with the way he nervously cleared his throat after you opened the door.

“Good to see you again,” you greeted formally, “please, come in.”

He stepped past you, still looking at you and not at what was in front of him, meaning he ended up slamming himself gut-first into your kitchen island.

“Oh! Are you alright?” you smiled when you noticed.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he nodded, rubbing his stomach for a second but recovering quickly. “I told you I can take a lot of pain,” he joked.

“Well, we’re going to put that to the test today,” you promised cryptically. “You must’ve seen the crop on the table.”

He nodded again. “Yeah....”

“Are you looking forward to it?”

“Yes,” he answered, a bit too quickly.

“Then let’s get you tied up, James.”

Straddling his lap, you realized the rope was a bit too tight when you saw it digging into his skin; maybe he wouldn’t mind that, but you did, so you pushed the rope back through itself to loosen it slightly.

“How long did it take you to learn all these knots?” he asked casually, watching your fingers nimbly work the ropes around his wrists.

“Not too long,” you shrugged, “I’ve only been doing this a few years… but I knew them before that.”

“Boating school? Boy Scouts?” he suggested jokingly.

“Just a hobby,” you decided, dodging the covert question about your past. “Were you a Boy Scout?”

“Do I look like a Boy Scout?” he countered with a scoff.

“Not anymore,” you shrugged, “but I bet you did once. You’re sorta innocent, you know.”

He swallowed dryly, and you raised an eyebrow as you glanced from the knot you were tightening to his face, which looked a bit flustered. “R-really?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, leaning back on your heels to look at him straight-on. “Are you surprised to hear that?”

He nodded quickly, and you laughed.

“Aw, you thought you were so kinky, huh? So dirty,” you purred, running your hand up his leg until he tugged slightly on the newly-tied ropes— a subtle way to get him to test them for you. “But you’re really not. You’re just my sweet, innocent boy.”

He whined— really, properly whined— and you dug your nails into his skin until he hissed instead.

“I don’t think you believe me,” you noticed, leaning back to reach for the crop behind you. “You think you’re so filthy and perverted, right? Are you a pervert, James?”

“Yes,” he breathed, shivering as you let the crop slide gently over his skin— his abs, his hips, his legs which were already quivering so adorably. “Yes, Mistress.”

“And how’s that?”

“I think about… getting hurt,” he admitted weakly, “when I touch myself. And I touch myself all the fucking time.”

“Yeah? How many times a day do you stroke that pretty cock, James?”

“Twice every morning,” he blurted out, “after that it depends.”

You didn’t let yourself show your surprise at that number. “Depends on what?”

When he hesitated, you hit him sharply on the thigh and he winced. “Depends on what I… what I end up thinking about. Sometimes… sometimes something reminds me, and I have to get off.”

Something told you not to press on what it was that he needed to be reminded of, and why it made him want to jerk off so bad. Something told you he wasn’t ready to tell that story yet. “Did you touch yourself today already?” you asked instead.

“No, no ma’am,” he shook his head, voice wavering as you brushed the crop over his chest, “it’s… it’s different with you.”

“Yeah, I bet it is,” you smirked, hitting him on the stomach quickly. “I bet you’re finally satisfied, right? Nothing’s ever worked for you before.”

“Yes,” he moaned, crying out slightly when you hit him on the arm (flesh— you were too afraid what sound the metal one would make) much harder than before. “The nights I see you, I… I can sleep.”

“You sleep better?”

“No, I just… sleep.”

You tried not to react to that, moving to a new question instead. “Do you want me to hit you again? Or do you want me to stroke your cock for you?”

An obvious choice to some, surely, but he seemed to really struggle with it.

“Which one do you think you deserve?” you asked instead.

“Hit me more,” he decided.

Instantly, you struck him once on the face and again on the shoulder, then moved down to his legs for three in a row in spite of the way his body jerked away instinctively.

“Fuck,” he sobbed, “don’t stop— I need more…”

You focused on his legs, on the inside of his thigh where he seemed the most sensitive. His twisted joy turned to true fear, though, when you brushed the end of the crop over his balls. “Do you want me to hit you here?” you challenged.

“I… I don’t know,” he stammered.

“Let’s make a deal, James,” you offered, “wherever I hit you, I’m gonna kiss it to make it better.”

“Then hit me wherever you want,” he nodded, almost smiling at you. He cried through his teeth when you whipped his shaft with the crop— not especially hard, in fact quite delicately, though the second was harder. And the third, though not much more aggressive, was right on the sensitive tip; his eyes shot open and his hips jerked away.

“So good, such a good boy,” you whispered proudly, putting the crop aside to lean in and kiss his cheek where you’d hit him before, his shoulder, his arm.

You worked your way down carefully as he breathed heavily beneath you, whimpering slightly when you kissed his thighs and notably ignored his flexing, leaking cock. “Please,” he whimpered.

“Shh, be patient,” you soothed, “be my good boy.”

“Your good boy,” he repeated, trying to restrain himself but already bucking up into the air again, “fuck, wanna be your good boy, Mistress.”

“Are you already close, pet, just from getting hurt?” you asked in a faux pout. “You’re not gonna come if I give your pretty cock some kisses, right?”

“I— I won’t come,” he promised. “Not until I get permission.”

“Baby, it’s gonna be a long fuckin’ time before you get permission,” you promised with a toothy grin. “Look down at me, honey, I want you to see this.”

He hesitated for a second but obeyed, looking down at you with an expression that was full of awe as you gripped his cock and gave gentle, teasing kisses up his shaft. It bobbed in your hands with each one, and he let out the most beautiful sigh when you kissed the tip carefully.

A wide lick made him jerk beneath you. “F-Fuck,” he stammered.

“You said you wouldn’t come,” you reminded him. “Can I keep going? Are you gonna be a good boy?”

“Don’t stop, please,” he breathed, “I’ll be good.”

Taking the head between your lips, you suckled gently as he shivered and moaned. You weren’t sure you’d ever been with anybody— on or off the clock— who was so sensitive. And you loved it, honestly; who could resist those precious noises he made?

As much as part of you wanted to go nuts and really push him to the edge, you tried to be gentle and careful so as not to make it impossible for him to hold back. But even then, when you gently grasped his balls in one of your hands and squeezed them, he apparently couldn’t take anymore.

"S-stop," he hissed, and you pulled back, sitting up.

"You were close?" you asked, and he nodded a little. "Oh, what a good boy."

He whimpered briefly. "Yes, your good boy, Mistress…"

Your fingers trailed delicately up the underside of his cock, making him shiver violently. "I know you want to come, but you want to be good even more. You're such a sweet little pet."

It seemed like the praises did more to keep him on the edge than the touches, so you kept both going; wrapping your fingers around the ridge of his head, you gave the most gentle and subtle strokes, and leaned in to whisper against his ear.

“Is this why you wanted me to edge you today, James? So you could show me how good you can be?”

“I-I don’t know,” he blurted out, rocking his hips as best he could while restrained, “I just wanted to… I just wanted you to make me wait.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that,” you laughed slightly, “I can make you wait all day. Is that what you want?”

“No, that’s— not that long, I can’t wait that long,” he shuddered.

“Mm, that sounds like your problem, not mine,” you smirked. “Not sure why I asked what you want, honestly… cause I don’t fucking care.”

His choked-out whine was too perfect to ignore.

“Oh, what a pathetic little moan that was, poor baby,” you cooed mockingly, “are you regretting it now? You’re probably wondering what you got yourself into, ‘cause you’re worried Mistress is never gonna let you come.”

“No, I don’t regret it,” he denied weakly, “whatever you want— do whatever you want to me, just… give me what I deserve, please.”

You stopped touching him completely and he straight-up sobbed. “You don’t deserve anything from me, James. You don’t deserve me at all.”

He told you before that he liked when you rapidly cycled between soft and mean. Kept him on his toes, apparently. Honestly, you felt a little guilty talking to him that way sometimes, but his cock leaking enough pre-cum to soak the bedsheets beneath him was a sign you were doing something right. “I know!” he cried. “I know, fuck, I’m sorry, but I need you. I fucking need you, Mistress, please— you know I’ll do anything.”

“I’m feeling generous today,” you shrugged, “so I won’t ask you for much. Just beg me a little more.”

“Please, pleasepleaseplease,” he rushed, “touch me. Anywhere, whatever you want, I just need to feel you. I know I… fuck, I know I don’t deserve it, but let me try to— to earn it. Please.”

You knew if he had it his way, he wouldn’t do much talking at all. But you couldn’t just let him have it his way, now could you? It was better to make him just the right amount of nervous, just the slightest hair uncomfortable, by making him talk to you. And, of course, you liked the way his deep and rough voice got all whiny and needy like this.

One finger under his chin guided him to look up at you, those pretty blue eyes watery and sparkling and wide with misplaced innocence.

“Tell me who you belong to, James,” you instructed darkly.

“You, Mistress,” he whispered, “I’m yours, I— oh fuck…”

Unshockingly, he was reduced to only moans again when you started stroking his cock, the slick precum making every movement smoother. “All mine, huh? My little toy?” you confirmed, but he could only nod and swallow thickly.

You sped up quickly, getting faster and faster until you were really, properly jerking him off and he was biting hard on his lip. Just when he seemed to really fall into it, get almost comfortable, you had to stop.

"Oh, fuck—" he gasped, bucking his hips up to try to chase your hand when you pulled away, but it was no use with him tied up. You watched his cock bob in the air and smiled.

“Did you think it was going to be that easy?” you smirked.

Shaking his head, you tilted yours to look at him, reaching up to trace your fingers over his chest.

“Don’t lie, baby, you thought I was gonna let you come, didn’t you? You’re so sweet, James, and so, so stupid.”

He gasped, and for a second you thought you might’ve gone too far, but it shifted to a moan quickly and you realized he was having the time of his life.

“Just my dumb, brainless little toy,” you continued with a snarl, watching him tug at the ropes as his eyes fluttered shut. “It’s okay, James, it’s okay… you don’t need to think, I don’t want your mind. It’s useless. I want this pretty cock, that’s all I want from you.”

“It’s all yours, Mistress,” he promised, cheeks burning bright red and eyes forced shut. “All of it, I swear.”

“I know,” you cooed, holding his face gently to soothe him a bit. But then your other hand wrapped around his cock and he was anything but soothed. “Shh, shh, don’t make any sounds, you’re just a toy and toys need to stay quiet.”

You missed his noises, actually, but he looked so cute biting his lip and struggling to suppress them. His cock was so swollen in your hand that you honestly wondered if it was somehow getting bigger. Was that even possible? Your mouth was watering regardless.

“I’m gonna give you a little break,” you promised gently, “but I’ll be honest, pretty boy… I don’t think you’re gonna like it one bit.”

The look he gave you beautifully balanced fear with anticipation, and you stopped stroking him to reach over towards the bedside drawer and pull out a vibrator.

“Your Mistress is feeling a little.... self-indulgent today,” you winked. “And since I, unlike you, don’t need to hold myself back from coming, I think I might as well get myself off if I want to.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed dryly, watching you closely as you stood up off the bed and started to carefully undress yourself. It was a lot more fun to get naked when you were wearing something that didn’t actually show much skin— the button-up seemed to really get him going, his tongue mindlessly darting out to lick his lips as you opened one button at a time.

Once it was off your shoulders and on the floor, and he could see the almost-transparent bra you had on, you moved to opening your trousers as well. Just to be mean, you faced the other way as you pushed them down over your ass; you heard his breath catch and you smirked to yourself, spinning to face him again in just the matching, dark red bra and panty set.

“What do you think, do you like this better than the black ones?” you asked coyly.

“I like you naked better than both,” he answered, and you grinned.

“I’m gonna let that backtalk slide just once because it’s not worth my time to go over there and slap you for it,” you decided. “But don’t test me, James.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answered dutifully, sounding a bit out of breath as he watched you climb back onto the bed, positioning yourself carefully.

You faced him straight-on and laid your legs over his, meaning your lace-covered pussy was in full view and only inches from his leaking cock— the damn thing looked sore by now, purple at the tip and just as desperate for attention as the rest of him.

When you pulled the fabric aside to show him your cunt, he hissed and looked away.

“Look at me, James, keep your eyes open,” you demanded, seeing how totally wrecked he looked when he turned his head back to you and stared down at your body with half-lidded eyes. “Look at how fucking soaked my pussy is. You remember how it feels to be inside it, don’t you?”

He swallowed, sighed, and finally (just barely) nodded.

“You remember how hot and wet and tight it is, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” he choked.

“Well, that memory’s all you’ve got to work with, sweet boy, because I don’t think I’m ever gonna let you fuck this pussy again.”

He really, properly sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks, and those arms flexed against the ropes defiantly. “N-no, please—”

“I’m gonna make myself come with this,” you promised, interrupting him as you grabbed the vibe, “and I want you to remember how it feels when I come around you, okay?

Turning it on, you wasted no time pressing it to your clit, moving the end of the toy in slow circles and keeping a close eye on him as he watched you. Your intention had always been to give him a show, but the embarrassing thing was how little of it was an act. Ironically, even though you’d been edging him this whole time, having to touch him that way without any pleasure for yourself was almost as torturous. You’d soaked through your panties by the time you had him tied up, to be totally honest. So, giving into it and letting yourself feel good was a breeze.

“Think about when I was riding you, James,” you instructed, your own voice clearly affected by your pleasure now. “Think about how good it would feel if I let you come inside me.”

“Oh, god,” he cried, leaning his head back.

“Think about my pussy milking every fucking drop of come out of you. You know I wouldn’t let you stop until I was completely full of your come, I bet you’d like that. I bet you’d like to eat your come out of me, you sick little pervert.”

“Fuck!” he yelped, tugging at the ropes harder now— for a second you thought he might really break them and jump you. And for a second, you knew you’d let him. It made your walls clench as you imagined facing the consequences of driving a man to the brink of insanity until he couldn’t help but fuck you like an animal. It was a good thing he didn’t see you bite your lip as you imagined that.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” you taunted.

“God, don’t tell me,” he sighed through his teeth, but obviously you ignored him.

“I’m thinking about what a good boy you are for me,” you cooed, your hips starting to rock up against where you held the end of the vibrator; you pressed it down harder onto your clit and moaned instantly. “Yeah, I’m thinking about how pretty you look when you’re all desperate and needy and fucking pathetic—”

“Oh—” he choked.

“My dumb litlte whore, that’s all you are, James,” you groaned. “I know you wish you could touch me, it’s all you can think about, right? That pretty head of yours would be completely empty if it weren’t for thoughts of me and how badly you want me. Right?”

“Yes,” he whispered huskily.

A shiver ran up your spine when the vibrator bumped into a more sensitive part of you, and you did it again and again until you thought you might lose it a bit faster than you meant to. “This toy feels really good,” you informed him in a purr, gasping when you slipped the vibrating body of it into your pussy, “but it doesn’t feel as good inside me as you do.”

His eyes fell shut but he still winced a bit every time you made a sound; he couldn’t run from this, no matter how hard he tried.

“Oh James,” you moaned loudly, fucking yourself with the vibe for a moment before you pulled it back out to focus even harder on your clit, “I’m gonna come. I’m so, so close… I can feel it getting stronger, I think I might make a mess on these sheets. And the only way I’m ever gonna let you come is if you watch me do it. So open your fucking eyes.”

He blinked quickly as he opened them, gaze scanning your whole body before settling on your cunt; you were sure he could see it pulsing as you got closer and closer, you knew he was imagining how it would feel. You only spared a brief glimpse at his cock, bobbing between his legs, and wished you could just slip it in you now and come while it stretched you out.

But that wasn’t what he was here for, sadly, and you were sure you were the only being truly denied of your desires, despite how it probably seemed from the outside.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, numbness starting to tingle in your legs as your orgasm built up quicker than even you expected. “I’m coming— James, I’m coming, oh, fuck… right there— yes!”

A gush of heat warmed your cunt at the same time that shocks ran up your spine and down your limbs; you could feel your legs shaking, and you knew he could, too.

It got so intense for a second that you had to pull the vibrator away, though you didn’t stop coming until a few moments later, eyes falling shut without you meaning for them to.

You actually laughed a bit, breathlessly, as you turned the vibe off and set it aside, although you weren’t sure exactly what was supposed to be funny about this per se. When you opened your eyes, you saw James looking down and looking positively defeated. But he looked tense, too, and you sat up on your wobbly legs to get closer to his face.

“Relax, James,” you told him firmly as you examined him.

“I— I can’t,” he whispered.

“Why not?”

“I’ll come.”

Nothing could fight your wide grin anymore, not when you heard that. “Oh, baby… are you about to come without even being touched? Is that how much you liked watching Mistress come?”

He nodded, ever so slightly, and you laughed. Not quite a mocking laugh, moreso impressed. Prideful, even. You leaned in to give a wet kiss to his neck, licking over his pulse as he shivered violently.

“That’s my good boy,” you whispered against his skin. He whined and you cooed soothingly right away, “oh I know, I know. It’s so unfair, isn’t it? Mistress gets to come and you don’t…”

“Please,” he stammered, “I’m so close, let me come, please.”

“But I don’t wanna see you come, baby— I wanna see you cry.”

You started to slide your hand down his chest and he jumped up to attention as he tried to squirm away. “No, please, don’t— don’t touch my cock, not if I can’t come.”

“You can hold it in, can’t you?” you pouted.

“No, I can’t, I can’t,” he sobbed, watching fearfully as your hand moved down to his stomach and over his hips.

“But I thought you were my good boy,” you frowned, suddenly wrapping your hand tight around his cock as he choked on a gasp.

“Mistress!” he sobbed. “Please, don’t— don’t move your hand, I’ll come.”

"Never fucking tell me what to do," you instructed firmly, just barely stroking as he cried weakly. "I'm gonna touch you however I want and you're not gonna come because you're my good boy, right?"

"No, Mistress, I can't stop it, I'm gonna come— stop, please…"

"You'd better not fucking come," you hissed through your teeth, speeding up your movements and watching his eyes shoot wide open, "you'd better hold it in until I'm done with you."

"I'm trying— please slow down, can't take it—"

You shook your head, tutting disapprovingly. "No, baby, I tell you what you can take."

"Oh— oh god, Mistress, please, please stop, please, I c-can't— fuck!"

You pulled your hand away the second his cock started to flex but it was too late: come was shooting from his swollen tip and painting his chest and stomach. You didn't even wait until he was done to backhand him across the face.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't help it…"

You softened slightly when you heard his broken voice, saw the desperation and fear on his face— it was real, more real than the fake ‘no’s and the encouraging pleas for mercy. "Baby, it's okay, you tried so hard," you soothed instantly.

Hope filled his eyes just as much as tears as he looked up at you. "Am I still your good boy?"

"Always," you smiled, caressing his face where it was already turning red from your slap.

You reached down and caressed his cock with the back of your fingers, watching it flex weakly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”

His lip twitched, almost like a wince. “Do we… do we have to stop?”

You quickly glanced at the clock. “Um, no,” you mumbled, “we still have time. Just tell me what you want.”

“I wanna watch you come again…” he admitted softly. “Is… is that okay?”

Although you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, you were still surprised. “Yeah, sure.”

“But… but closer this time,” he added, “not so far away.”

You were literally laying on top of him, how did that count as far away?

“I wanna see your face,” he clarified.

“Okay,” you nodded, deciding to indulge him. It was sort of like aftercare, except that this wasn’t exactly the ‘after’ part yet.

On your knees beside where he was leaning back against the headboard, you slipped your hand down into the lace panties again, finding your clit still swollen but not too sensitive. A little gasp fell from your lips when you touched it, rubbing it carefully with two fingers while he looked up at your face.

You felt slightly exposed when he watched you this close, and you didn’t know where to look to avoid direct eye contact. Looking at his lips was just a little too tempting, so that wouldn’t work.

“My hands are a little tired,” you explained, “they might cramp up. Maybe I could use your thigh…”

“O-okay,” he nodded, and you removed your fingers from your panties to sit down on the thick muscle of his leg. You felt him tense up under you slightly, and you carefully began to rock your hips until your clit rubbed just right against the inside of your underwear. Surely he could feel how wet you were— actually, you both could hear it, almost a wet clicking-like noise as the soaked lace slid against your skin.

The dynamic shifted slightly, not that you minded it, as he watched you ride him carefully. Just as he couldn’t hide much from you when he was naked and tied up and baring his soul to you in the kinkiest way possible, you couldn’t hide your pleasure from him when he was looking at your face so up-close. You let your hands carefully roam his body, narrowly avoiding the trails of cooling come he’d left on his stomach and chest, until you found his strong shoulders and held onto them for balance.

“Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself, biting your lip as your sore clit throbbed against his hard, muscular thigh.

“Will you… could you kiss me?” he requested quietly, and your heart broke a little bit. You shook your head, and he nodded in understanding.

“I’ll kiss you here,” you offered instead, whispering against his skin before you pressed your lips to his forehead, then his cheek, then his jaw. “Is that better, James?”

“It helps,” he agreed in a sigh.

“I’m close,” you warned quietly, pressing your cheek to his and weaving one hand into his hair. “I’m gonna come again, on your thigh.”

“Let me touch you,” he begged, “just a little, please…”

You nodded, about to reach forward to untie one of his hands, but he snapped the ropes and you had totally forgotten he could do that. He quickly ran his touch all over your body, calloused hands and bound wrists in stark contrast to your soft skin. The metal one was a little cold but it didn’t bother you; the other was almost too hot, and it was like being warmed and cooled all at once.

He ran his fingers down your spine, he gripped one of your shoulders, he rubbed your legs: he did everything he must have been wishing he could do this whole time, even gasping as he ran one hand up your chest and over a cup of your bra. Just as you sensed that he was about to ask if he could touch you there, you nodded and felt his metal hand tug down the red lace and grab your breast— thankfully not very hard, though he did give your nipple a quick pinch which made you gasp.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he finally settled his hands on holding your hips, just tight enough to slightly guide your movements as you rocked faster and more desperately. “Please come,” he begged weakly, “Mistress, please… use me.”

It sort of hit you all at once then, like a punch to the gut. Except, you know, a lot more fun than getting punched in the gut.

“James,” you gasped, legs quivering where they straddled his as a new patch of slick soaked the lace (and presumably his thigh as well). He held you tight, kept you moving through it while your fingers tangled in his hair and your mouth fell slack for another, louder moan.

The way his lips moved over your skin, laving your collarbones and pulse point and the innermost corner of your jaw, was positively worshipful; reverent. “Mistress,” he whispered, almost sounding like praise but tinted with awe. Your movements slowed down to a stop and the two of you breathed a sigh together, unintentionally. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“What for?” you asked, blinking quickly and looking down at him, coming back to reality (though you weren’t quite sure where else it was that you had just been).

“I dunno, everything,” he decided.

“Don’t thank me,” you smiled. “Keep paying me, though.”

He laughed a little, glancing away. “Yeah, and I’ll pay you back for these ropes… sorry."

"No, hey, don't be sorry," you dismissed, getting up off of his leg and standing up to go grab a towel for him. "I'm just sorry we still haven't found anything strong enough to hold you."

"It's fine, they're strong enough to make me stop myself when I want to do something I shouldn't, that's all that really matters."

You nodded to yourself as you dampened the towel and came back to wipe him off.

"I can do that for myself," he reminded you, sounding a bit embarrassed, but you thought it was sweet.

“You just focus on getting those ropes off of yourself,” you decided with a little smile.

#sub!bucky barnes x domme!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut

2K notes · View notes

dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Human GPS

Pairing: c!Technoblade x f!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] Technoblade really needs some books of mending, and you just happen to be the daughter of the village cleric.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: this a repost of the first ever story i posted when i first made my blog. this story takes place back when technoblade was still allied with pogtopia. i hope you like it as much as i did! <3

Technoblade blinked, his eyes squinting up at the clear, cerulean sky. It was about midday now, and the beating sun sat in the center of the sky, almost taunting him from where it hung.

If the sun is directly above me, he thought, then west must be… He frowned. Somewhere. Maybe.

He groaned and swung his legs off of Carl, the horse letting out a soft whinny as he hopped onto the ground. He had been travelling for what must have been close to an hour now, and he still hadn’t found a village. It was almost like the universe was trying to waste his time. All he wanted was to get his hands on some books of mending so he didn’t have to worry about any of his armour breaking, yet the world was sending him on a wild goose chase, anyways.

“Seriously,” he muttered, irritation gnawing away at his already dwindling patience, “how hard can it be to find just one cleric? It’s not like I’m asking to find a woodland mansion, or something.”

Letting out yet another long groan, Technoblade flipped open the pack he attached to Carl’s saddle. He pulled out a baked potato and bit in, allowing himself a few seconds of relief as he ate.

For a brief moment, he considered digging through his bag to look for a compass or—better yet—a map. But then he remembered that just prior to leaving, he had reminded himself that he was a human GPS and that “Technoblade never fails.”

He sighed. No compass, it is.

He took another bite of the potato in his hands, looking around at the terrain around him. There was a lush birch forest to his left and a barren desert on the opposite side. Just a little to his right was a river and—

Wait a second.

Technoblade froze, his jaw freezing halfway through chewing another bite of potato.

He recognized that river.

A wide grin split across his lips.

He totally knew where to find a village.

Doing his best not to choke, Technoblade stuffed the rest of the baked potato in his mouth and buckled his pack shut. With a grunt, he pulled himself back onto Carl, picking up the reins. “Like I said, Carl, who even needs a compass? I’ve got the map memorized, and my inner compass is perfectly calibrated.”

Carl looked back at him and let out an almost sarcastic sounding neigh that seemed to say, “Sure.”

Technoblade’s face rolled his eyes. He snapped the reins once, and Carl charged forward.

The human GPS never failed.

You let out an ecstatic cry as you pushed the last book in your hands onto the creaky bookshelf, stepping back to look at your work in pride. You’d been organizing the library for a little over half the day now, and you were almost finished. Each shelf was now in alphabetical order.

Dusting off your skirt, you took one last glance at the shelves before settling down at the table in the corner of the room, looking over the to-do list you had set out for yourself the night before. “Let’s see,” you hummed to yourself, “I already dusted all the tabletops, mopped the floor, and delivered that order to Mr. Hart. Now I can check ‘organize bookshelves’ off the list, too.”

You set the quill down on the table. “Meanwhile, dad’s out trading with Mrs. Lee and said he would be back soon.” You stared down at the page for a moment longer before sighing. A frown etched itself onto your features. You leaned your elbows on the oak tabletop as your gaze trailed out the church window and up at the cloudless sky.

You had lived in the village your whole life with your father, the village cleric. Everything was peaceful and you loved the familiar environment you resided in, but things had also become so… boring in the village. So bland, so dull. You can’t even remember the last time you did something fun. Sure, you were productive and made sure to help your father around his workspace the best you could, but you wanted more than this.

Please, you thought to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut in a silent prayer. Please, please, please let something new and exciting happen. At least just once in my life.

All of a sudden, you heard a distant rumbling.

You sat up straight, blinking awake from your reverie. What’s that sound?

The rumbling grew louder, and you could now recognize it as the galloping of a horse. Your thoughts were only confirmed by the loud whinny you heard right after the rumbles stopped.

You pushed your chair back, standing up from the table and walking over to the front window, crouching down to peek outside. You squinted, your eyes scanning around outside before they landed on an unfamiliar shape.

Your heart suddenly barrelled over in your chest.

Sitting atop a horse wearing diamond armour in the center of the village square was a stranger.

His back was facing you, but from what you could see of him, the first thing you noticed was the crimson robe hanging off his shoulders, cascading down his back like a scarlet waterfall. An axe was strapped to his back, tinted with a murky, violet hue. His hair was a vibrant shade of cherry blossom pink like nothing you had ever laid eyes on before, and on his head sat a golden crown encrusted with glittering gems. You wondered what his face looked like, curiosity bubbling in your chest.

Just then, he slid off his horse, landing on the ground with a small thump. He stood tall and proud, turning his head this way and that as he looked around at the houses around him, an air of regality surrounding him.

Then, he turned.

Your eyes only met for a fraction of a second before you immediately ducked down, hiding your figure from view in the window. The moment you were out of sight, you stilled, doing your best not to give yourself away.

He was handsome.

His face was calm and demure, reflecting his royal air almost perfectly, and his eyes, like his robe, were a piercing crimson red. They almost seemed to stare into your soul, laying every part of yourself bare for him to see.

He looked like a king in every sense of the word, and you just had to meet him.

Your heart was thrumming wildly in your chest as you struggled to regain your breath. You peeked over the windowsill carefully, glancing past the glass outside once more. The stranger had tied his horse to a post in the square and was walking around, glancing at the villagers here and there. Most of them seemed to be slightly wary of him—after all, it wasn’t everyday a king showed up at your doorstep. He seemed to be looking for something with the way he kept looking around him, his eyes sweeping over every inch of the village. Perhaps you could help him.

Slowly, you slid away from the windowsill and carefully clicked open the front door, stepping outside. The sun shone brilliantly on your face as you made your way toward the stranger. Once again, his back was turned to you, and you stopped a few feet behind him. Taking a deep breath, you mustered up what courage you had before speaking.

“Hello.”

The man turned at the sudden sound of your voice, his scarlet eyes piercing into yours. “Oh, hello.” His voice was deep, laced with a low rasp that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your offered him a warm smile. “Welcome to our humble village. I’m [Y/N].” You extended your hand, and he took it in a friendly handshake, smiling back.

“The name’s Technoblade.”

Your eyebrows quirked. “Technoblade,” you repeated. “That’s a unique name.”

“Thanks,” he said, jokingly adding, “I got it for my birthday.”

You giggled at that. He may look regal and intimidating, but right off the bat, it seemed that his personality was far from it. “You know what they say, a bad joke is always the best way to leave a good first impression.”

He frowned, feigning sadness. “Oh, c’mon, it wasn’t that bad.”

Your lips twitched. “Well, I laughed at it, so I’ll give you that.” His face lit up once more, and you felt your stomach churn with warmth. “Well, what brings you here?”

He gestured to the pack he had clipped to his belt. “Just looking to do a few trades, really.”

You looked at him in confusion. “A king? Trading with commoners like us?”

He blinked for a moment. “Ah, about that, I’m not really a king, per se.” He plucked his crown from off his head, tossing it casually in his hands. “The crown and robes are more for… aesthetic purposes, to say the least. I don’t really rule over my own country or anything.

Your tilted your head at him. “Where do you come from, then? I can only imagine you travelled for a while to get here.”

He shrugged. “It was kind of far, but it wasn’t a big deal, really. I never got lost.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Never?” you said.

“Never,” he confirmed. His grinned smugly, your heart reeling at the sight. “I’m a human GPS, if you will.”

You stifled a laugh but couldn’t hide your smile. What a dork. “Totally.”

His grin only widened. “Anyways, I’m from this place called Pogtopia.” You must have made a face at his words, because he laughed at you and god, even his laugh was pretty. “Yeah, it’s kind of a funny name, isn’t it? Well, I didn’t come up with it. My friends Tommy and Wilbur did.”

“They must be…” You looked for a good word. “…interesting people.”

He laughed. “It’s okay—you’re allowed to say they have bad taste in names.”

You giggled, your cheeks flushing in slight embarrassment. “Okay, yeah, their taste is pretty poor.” You glanced at him. “Are they the kings of your country then, since they named it?”

“Kind of. I guess you could call them kings, but they’re more like self-instated presidents, even though that kind of defeats the whole purpose of having a president.” You nodded, following along in agreement. “They’re trying to win back some land they were exiled from a while back called L’Manberg, although it was recently renamed Manberg, but there’s also Dream and his SMP, and—” He sighed, running a hand through his rosy locks. “It’s complicated. Basically, we’re sort of in the middle of this war, and I just kind of got roped into it.”

Your eyes widened in alarm. “A war?! Surely we wouldn’t get involved, right?” Your village, like many others, was a pacifist group of people, having no source of defense or battle skills to protect yourselves with. If this supposed war came all the way to your little village, all of you would surely perish.

Technoblade raised his arms in front of him, quickly shaking his head. “Oh, definitely not. You’ve got nothing to worry about, I swear.”

You pressed a hand to your chest as you let out a breath of relief. “Oh, thank goodness.” Technoblade smiled at you from the corner of your eye, amusement lacing his lips. You suddenly straightened, another thought popping into your head. “What about you, then? Aren’t you worried?”

He laughed again, though it sounded more like a cackle. “Me? Worried? Nahhh.” He swung his axe off his back, being careful to point it away from you. “I may not look like it, but I’m actually one of the most feared warriors in the land. Tommy and Wilbur basically begged me to join their side so I can help them win.” He gestured to himself. “You don’t have to believe me, but I think it’s pretty clear to see I’m pretty much a god at PVP.”

You hummed, shaking your head. “No, I believe you. You do look like you could seriously teach someone a thing or two with that axe, but I really don’t think I need to feed your ego anymore.” You smiled bemusedly. “It already seems to be quite large on its own.”

His grin dropped. “Wait, please, feed my ego, I thrive off complime—”

A giggle escaped your mouth as you waved your hand at him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Your expression grew a bit more serious. “But honestly, you’re not scared? Even a little?”

Technoblade shook his head. “Nope. A war is just a lot of fights lined up one after the other, and I’m great at winning fights. Heck, I could probably wipe out the other side in a heartbeat with what I’ve got in my arsenal. Tommy and Wilbur might just send me out by myself to do just that.”

“They would?” you said in disbelief. “Aren’t they worried for you, either?”

He snorted. “They were the ones who wanted me here to help them win, so they definitely aren’t worried.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Well, that was no good—no good at all. Wasn’t a single person concerned for this man’s safety, not even just one? No matter how powerful he may be, this was a war you two were talking about, and wars don’t always go according to plan.

Suddenly, it hit you.

“I see,” you murmured. You raised your chin, resolve filling your veins. “Then I’ll worry for you.”

Technoblade stared at you for a long moment, stunned into silence. Panicking, you began to ramble. “You and your friends may have overwhelming confidence in you and your abilities,” you said, “but it’s still important that you recognize that sometimes things don’t go according to plan. That’s why you should worry, and if you won’t, then I’ll do it in your stead.”

When he still didn’t say anything after yet another moment, you felt embarrassment rise up in you. “I’m sorry, we just met and that was totally uncalled for of m—”

“No, no, really,” he abruptly said, shaking his head. “It’s all good. Seriously.” There was a slight pause. Then, he softly added, “Thank you. I appreciate your concern.”

His lips curled to form a smile, but this one was different from the ones he gave you before. Those ones were proud and teasing, full of mirth and some level of arrogance. But this one was softer, kinder. More genuine and real.

You liked this one more.

Still feeling slightly embarrassed from having just rambled about caring about a near stranger to his face, you quickly shifted gears. “W-Well, I should probably ask what exactly you wanted to trade for,” you said as your cheeks flushed pink. You lowered your gaze to the ground, trying to avert your eyes from his. “I can probably help you find whatever it is you need.”

Technoblade hummed. “I have a bunch of stuff with me that I can use to trade, but I’m looking for a cleric to get some mending books from.”

Your head shot up in recognition. “A cleric, you say?” Your lips curled into a small grin when he nodded. “I know just where to find him. Wait here for a minute, okay?”

As soon as he nodded his head once more, you had already taken off, bounding down the grassy path with your skirt trailing behind you. Technoblade’s gaze followed you as you rushed down the path, a pleasant warmth bubbling in the pit of stomach and he watched you run off.

Usually whenever he came to a village, the people he met were wary of him and hardly ever spoke more than the bare minimum to him. Most of them were intimidated by his appearance, others thrown off by his cockiness. And yet here you were, treating him like a friend when so many before you had done the exact opposite. You were kind, compassionate, and you saw more than just his arrogant exterior. You genuinely cared for the person he was underneath the crown and the robes. Not to mention, you were quite the sight for sore eyes.

Warmth blossomed in his chest and something fluttered in his stomach.

He was glad he came to this village.

To say your father was more than pleased to trade some books of mending for the stacks upon stacks of emeralds Technoblade had was an understatement.

“I thought you said you weren’t a king,” you said to him, your eyes nearly bulging out of your head when you saw him open his pack.

“I’m not,” Technoblade said, twirling an emerald between his fingers. “I just happen to be very wealthy.”

You shook your head at him, a smile gracing your lips. “You’re a maniac.”

He shot you a smug look. “Oh, don’t I know it.”

After he had traded for some mending books with your father, he had asked you if your village had a fletcher.

“Oh, I made a delivery to Mr. Hart earlier today,” you said. “Here, follow me.”

The trek to the other side of the village was short enough, and you were content to wait on the sides while Technoblade made some negotiations. Just then, Mrs. Lee spotted you and strode up to you.

“Good afternoon, [Y/N],” she greeted, her lips tilting into a familiar gentle smile.

“Hello, Mrs. Lee!” you chirped happily, turning to face her. “Thank you for the pumpkins, earlier today! I’ll be sure to give you some of the pumpkin pie I bake tomorrow.”

“Why, there’s no need for you to do that, dear.” She leaned close to your ear to whisper, “You know you’re my favourite of the youngins here.”

You blushed. “You know that’s not true.”

She held a finger to her lips. “It’s our little secret, alright?” She looked over your shoulder at Technoblade, who was still debating with Mr. Hart. “Looks like you’ve become acquainted with our visitor, haven’t you, dear?”

Your blush deepened. “Y-Yes! I have. His name is Technoblade and he comes from a country called Pogtopia. He traded for some books with my father just now.”

Mrs. Lee wrinkled her nose. “Weird name, the both of them, but never mind that.” She smirked at you, glancing just behind you. “He’s quite the looker, isn’t he?”

Your face exploded like a bright red tomato. “I-I, um, he’s. Um.” You took a deep breath and fanned your face, lowering your voice. “He’s handsome.”

Her smirk only grew larger. “I hope the two of you become even more acquainted then,” she said cryptically, patting your shoulder. “I’ll be on my way now, but do let me know how it goes, okay?”

You nodded dutifully, too embarrassed to say anything else. Mrs. Lee turned away and continued her way down the grassy path, smiling to herself.

If only you had seen the way he had looked at you.

Hours had passed since Technoblade had first arrived in the village, and the sun was just beginning to set. The two of you had visited just about every working person in the village, chatting away as Technoblade traded for whatever he needed from each person you two saw.

The two of you learned a lot about each other in the time you spent together. You learned that Technoblade wasn’t a huge fan of government and much preferred anarchy. He learned that you longed for something much more than your normal life in the village, but you had yet to discover what it was you wanted to do. You learned that he owned a dog named Floof. He learned the location of your favourite spot in the village. By the end of the day, it felt like you two had known each other for ages.

You secretly hoped that he would stay, but you knew that he couldn’t. The village wasn’t his home, after all.

You stood nearby as Technoblade strapped his pack back onto Carl’s saddle, chewing the inside of your lip. He climbed onto Carl, securing his axe on his back and picking up the reins in his hands. “Well, [Y/N],” he said, a hint of disappointment tinging his voice, “it looks like this is goodbye.”

“I guess so,” you murmured sadly, casting your gaze down at your feet. You had only known him for so long, but an overwhelming sense of loss filled you knowing that Technoblade was leaving and may very well never return. He was funny with his dry, dorky sense of humour and charming with his sharp grins and deep voice.

You weren’t sure you were quite ready to let go just yet.

“Um,” you spoke up, your voice cracking a little, “will you…” You peeked up at him, nervously biting the inside of your cheek as you fiddled with your fingers. “Will you ever come back?”

Something in Technoblade’s chest seized at the shy look on your face, your cheeks rosy and your gaze darting back and forth between his eyes and the ground. While he had originally only come in search of this village to trade with a cleric, he supposed he might always need more mending books in the future. Not to mention, he would also get to see you.

He smiled, letting out a soft laugh. “Yeah,” he said, “I’ll be back, so wait up for me, yeah?”

Your eyes lit up and an elated grin spread across your face. “I-I will!”

He chuckled at your giddiness, his own heart beating wildly against his rib cage. “Good.”

Sharing one last look with you, he snapped his reins and held on tight as Carl dashed forward, his gaze trailing behind him as he watched you wave your arms frantically at him. He couldn’t help but crack a smile at your enthusiasm, raising his arm to wave back at you himself. He kept waving until he could no longer see you, and only then did he face forward to find his way home.

The journey back was significantly shorter than the trip to the village, and before he knew it, he was tying Carl to his usual fence post. He was a human GPS, after all. How else would he have found the village—and you—with so much ease?

He tilted his head up, looking up at the rising moon in the east. Now he knew that the village (and you, his heart helpfully supplied once more) lay to the west, just beyond the birch forest, desert, and river. Above him, he could make out the shapes of a handful of constellations, the stars twinkling and winking down at him from space. He wondered if you were looking up at the same starry sky as him. He wondered if your stomach was full of butterflies, too.

“So,” he mused to himself aloud, his heart thump-thump-thumping in his chest, “[Y/N], huh?”

He was definitely going back.

1K notes · View notes

watevermelon · 4 years

Text

Unrequited | Kuroo Tetsurō x Reader

✧ Summary: Years of unrequited feelings and longing looks toward your childhood best-friend Kuroo, it was only when he was in the arms of another that he realized his true feelings for you; when it is almost too late.

-> Tags: lots of fluff, angst, BokuAka, slight Akaashi x Reader, Yaku is an amazing friend ✧ Navigation

----xXxXxXxXxXxXx----

Almost everyone on the Nekoma volleyball team had a crush on the older Haiba sibling. Whether it was only aesthetic deep, no doubt from her striking green eyes, or a deeper infatuation from her cute, bubbly personality - everyone had a hint of feelings for the young woman, only two years older than the third-years.

Captain Kuroo was no exception.

You had seen the few times his gaze was drawn to her, the way his perceptive eyes would latch onto the woman cheering in the stands. Yaku was more vocal, often openly complimenting Alisa while the rest agreed in kind. And while they had every right to appreciate her good looks, to which you often admitted as well, it made you wonder if a certain someone ever saw you in a similar fashion.

Kuroo was your long-time friend and had long since convinced you to be the manager of the volleyball team. You had always wondered if it was to keep you close, Kuroo trying to keep your relationship close after all these years. When you had asked, he said it was simply because you were neat, organized, and got very passionate about the things you were working on.

Something had changed over the years, your nerdy best friend was more than just the fish loving idiot he was. He was the cute, smart, volleyball team captain that you felt your heart palpitate towards. There were times that had you questioning if he ever felt the same way, open flirting or smirks shot to one another.

That was, until you actually saw Kuroo flirting.

It was different and yet the same. Gone was the playful smile that he used with most people, replaced with a more serious smirk.

And it was never used towards you.

It only served to break your heart more when you heard the news at volleyball practice the next day.

Kai had his arms crossed while sporting a neutral smile. Lev was scowling, but you could tell that he was withholding an amused smile over the group. Kenma was in the far corner, playing something on his phone and not caring about the group of teens forming. Inuoka and Shibayama both looked excited, the former even jumping a few times to physically voice his eagerness.

“Kurooooo,” Yaku prolonged the name as he groaned, “You lucky asshole.”

“You better treat my sister right!”

“What does a college woman have in common with you?” Yaku continued complaining.

“She graduated high school last year, there’s only a year between us.” Kuroo responded.

“Bah.” Yaku whined, “But it’s you.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes before noticing you walking in the gymnasium. He smiled and walked over to you, “Hey, can I ask you a favor tonight?”

“What’s up?”

He raised a hand to sheepishly rub at his neck, “I have a date tonight and…”

What the fresh hell on earth was this?

“And you need pointers talking to a female?” You teased to hide your pain.

“Please?”

You should say no.

The love of your life was asking for help with another woman and here you were trying to help him?? Are you insane?? There was only one clear answer to this question.

“Sure, anything for you.”

“Thanks, (L/N)-chan.” He smiled, before ruffling your hair.

And true to your word, you went over to Kuroo’s house that night. Kenma was an unwilling member of the audience as well, sitting on the bed with his gaming console in his hands. You heard the telltale sounds of power-ups and scores, but the both of you were so used to it by now.

You watched Kuroo model two different outfits, trying to look casual as if he had not put that much effort into his clothes (which was anything but the truth). He wondered if he should try to tame his hair, but you stated that it was one of the things a lot of girls loved about him.

He thanked you before leaving saying, “You’re the best (L/N)-chan. I’ll treat ya to ice cream one of these days.”

You smiled and said it was not necessary, still sitting on his bed when Kuro closed the door behind him. You heard Alisa’s bubbly voice downstairs before the both of them left the house, the sound of the front-door closing also hammering itself down on your own heart.

You hadn’t realized how quiet it was until the moment dragged out. Kenma was looking directly at you, game off and tucked to the side as he sat-up in your direction.

“You okay?” He asked, patting the spot next to him for you to take.

The blond knew about your feelings for a while, not like you ever had to say anything. Kenma was the type to just know things. Whether from your overall behavior, from the way you spoke, anything was enough for the blond to tell your true feelings before you were even sure. He had urged you on two separate occasions to get over the captain, but had never truly pushed the situation.

“Yeah.” You bit out, less to reassure him, but more for yourself. “It’s just one date, right?”

“One date for now.” Kenma reasoned.

And while you knew he was not saying this to be mean, you almost felt a small crack in your heart. Kenma was being honest - it was not like Kuroo had ever expressed any interest in you at all. And now here he was, pursuing someone he was actually happy with.

You would support his happiness.

“Maybe you should get some distance.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” You joked, eyes already glistening with unshed tears.

Kenma smiled, a gentle hand reaching around your shoulders to lean you against him. He was never good at comforting you in these moments, but he would still be a shoulder for you to lean on. And in the quiet room of your childhood crush, you resolved to not think about Kuroo like this anymore.

You withstood it all: listening to Kuroo recount his date to the other team members, smiling and encouraging him to muster the courage to ask her out on another date, and even later congratulating him during their one-month anniversary.

It wasn’t just one date.

Not that Kuroo was forgetting his friends, he still hung-out with you and Kenma and upheld his responsibilities as captain greatly. But there were small changes, like Kuroo almost constantly texting his girlfriend on his phone, having busy weekends dedicated to dates, and just overall the schedule of a man newly in love.

In kind, you found yourself reaching out to your other friends more. You went out fishing with Kai and Fukunaga. You accepted Lev and Inuoka’s invitations to go to the arcade in Shibuya. Yaku was someone you were often hovering around, the kind-soul inviting you out to dinner sometimes after school just the two of you.

Apparently, he had known as well.

It didn’t take much to figure it all out, Yaku stated not unkindly. From your constant flirting to the fact that you and Kuroo used to basically spend every free second together, he had thought long ago that you were already together.

Hearing that only hurt you more, to which Yaku immediately jumped out of his seat to sit next to yours. He pulled you into a comforting hug, not at all caring that the two of you were out in public at some random barbecue place.

It was strange to now always be in Kuroo’s circle from then on, but you honestly did try your best. You were still his friend, offering advice and hanging out with him (but usually only in groups). But there was an undeniable distance that you were putting with him. He had never questioned it, but you already had an excuse on the tip of your tongue if Kuroo ever did: you were giving him time and space with his girlfriend, it was only natural.

Time was moving forward and thankfully, so were you.

Seeing Kuroo and his girlfriend still brought that familiar pang, but it no longer rang in the depths of your bones. You simply watched and smiled, content that he was happy as you sorted out your own life.

That was, until a particular weekend training camp with Fukurodani.

You were long familiar with both Bokuto and Akaashi. Kuroo had tons of antics with both boys (and many other members of their team) to which you joined in. From hang-outs on the weekends to these annual training camps, you were on friendly terms with the captain and his vice.

“Hey hey hey!” Bokuto greeted you at the onset, the setter was a little ways away behind him. Akaashi smiled and waved at you in greeting, before getting pushed toward you.

You shot Bokuto a confused smile and Akaashi looked as if he would neuter the ace where he stood.

Bokuto scurried away just as quickly, causing Akaashi to sigh before turning to you.

“How have you been?” He asked politely.

You always appreciated how friendly the setter was, no matter how attractive or intimidating he looked.

“Alright, school exams. A dozen different guidance counselors asking you about your future, the usual. How about you?”

“Much of the same.” He replied before moving to clasp his hands behind his back. “Would you like to go out for dinner after this?”

You accepted without thinking too hard, “Sure! Who else is going?

A small smile grew from the corner of his lips, “Ah, I meant… Just the two of us.”

“Like a date?” You asked, again without thinking.

He laughed before looking at you fondly, “Yes, exactly that.”

You smiled back, no real reason to say not to the attractive young man.

“I’d love to.”

Akaashi reflected a similar expression back before reaching for your hand, “Great, I look forward to it.”

He kissed the top of your hand, every bit of chivalry that he was known for pouring out in your shared interaction. You felt your cheeks redden, already slightly overwhelmed from affection the setter was so willing to give. Akaashi bid you farewell and turned to head towards the corner of the gym his team commandeered, but the expressions on their faces showed this was a joint effort.

Bokuto rushed to slap him on the back while Yukie and Kaori shot him a thumbs-up. Haruki was seen smiling at their vice captain and whatever Konoha said caused the setter to erupt in a blush. You were curious and for once, the raging butterflies that had long since disappeared were gradually coming back.

Your team tried to bombard you with questions, but you maneuvered them back to their warm-ups and said they had games to win.

There was one look from Kuroo you could not decipher, when you had initially turned away from Akaashi. It was long, like he had not even been looking at you, the depth of his gaze following you every step until he turned back to his team.

After the practice matches you were free game, Inuoka being the first to rush you after he finished mopping his section of the gym.

“Is Akaashi your boyfriend?” He asked as he jumped from your peripheral to right in front of you, “How could you keep this a secret from us?!”

“You and Akaashi are so cute! We had no idea!” Shibayama added as he walked up to you. With those two breaking the ice, it seemed that was enough for the others of Nekoma to crowd you as well.

Kenma patted you on the shoulder, a knowing, yet happy look in his eye. Yaku shot you the same expression, but offered you an out in any form of call or text if you needed it. Kai nodded in agreement while the others expressed other forms of their excitement for you.

All but one, at least.

Something did not sit well in Kuroo’s stomach.

He watched you get buried by the group, curious questions linking you to the Fukurodani setter that many girls called the perfect boy next door. He was soft-spoken and yet confident. Had a good sense of humor and yet not immature. Akaashi was a great catch and, if there was anyone in the entire gymnasium right now that Kuroo had to pick for you to end up with, it would without a doubt be the setter.

At least… that’s what Kuroo thought.

And when Akaashi left the locker rooms, fully showered and changed back into regular clothes, he approached the group and it parted like the red sea for him. Akaashi held out a hand for you to take, to which you blushed but accepted as he guided you away. He held your gym bag like it was nothing, the two of you walking out with a chorus of teasing behind you.

Akaashi would treat you right, no doubt. And from your rosy expression and earlier eagerness, it seemed you were genuinely interested in the setter as well.

So why did it feel so wrong to see you in the arms of another guy?

That was when Kuroo learned the complications of desire firsthand.

He was still dating Alisa and it ate him up inside that his thoughts were often wandering off to you rather than his girlfriend of months. It was not even that long ago that thinking of the grey-headed woman in front of him would cause the raging swarm in his stomach. Something had unknowingly shifted, the only feeling left was the sinking pit that grew every time he saw you and Akaashi.

Kuroo kept constant tabs on you, not wanting to ask you outfront how your relationship was going. He heard updates from both Bokuto and Kenma, how the two of you were yet to be official, but had gone on a few dates already.

You were distant in an understandable way, spending time with your budding relationship but still available to him and the team. It was not like you had dropped off the face of the planet, still active as the team manager and even hanging out with the group after-school.

After a while, it was noticeable that something was getting on Kuroo’s nerves. He wanted to say something, but withheld it from seeing how happy you were. And so instead he went to the others around you, many of them very willing and excitable parties to impart details of what they heard.

You were his close friend and often, that was his excuse when other people asked. He wanted to make sure you were not played by these other foolish boys. But with a boyfriend like Akaashi, there was no one better, in Kuroo’s opinion, to treat you like you deserved.

So why did it feel wrong?

It was only when Kuroo saw his worries bleed into his relationship with his girlfriend that he realized that shit, he might have feelings for you.

You were always such a steady figure in his life that he never had to worry before that you would just… not be there. From volleyball to classes, you were always together with him and Kenma. From the late night study groups to the even later video game parties, these were some of his favorite memories throughout high-school.

Kuroo remembered the first time you all went to the beach together as a team. You had worn a bathing suit that he, for whatever reason, did not approve of and had to change before you all headed out together. He remembered playfully dragging you into the freezing, early summer water and you throwing hands with him right after.

And it was not like you were going to cut him off completely once you had a boyfriend. Akaashi or anyone else, you were still one of his closest friends and a relationship would not be the end of it.

So why did it bother Kuroo so much?

Because he wanted to be your boyfriend.

It was one of the worst types of epiphanies someone could ever come to.

To realize you had feelings for someone you knew you should not have.

Kuroo’s true feelings must have surfaced on his visage, since Alisa ended it at the three-month mark. She invited him to a dessert place somewhere in Shibuya, but never took off her coat and only ordered a drink. It was enough to signify that she had to leave, that she was in a rush to not be here.

Her green eyes portrayed a sad smile as she said that they were better off as friends, since their minds were growing in different places.

Kuroo didn’t want to ask her to specify, worried that she was going to say an answer that he was not ready for. It was one thing to believe he had feelings for you, but hearing it out-loud would be the final nail in his coffin.

It was all too much at once - him realizing his feelings and coming to the conclusion that he wanted to act on it.

Every day was a reminder of things that he could not and should not have. At the next practice match with Fukurodani, Kuroo had to endure watching you kiss Akaashi on the lips. Sitting together at lunch entailed listening to you go on about your perfect boyfriend Akaashi. The others would even agree, complimenting Akaashi’s chivalry and expressing their gladness that someone was treating you right.

Apparently Alisa hadn’t told Lev, since no one on the team had yet to bombarded him.

At least….

Kenma had long noticed his best friend’s, Kuroo’s, prolonged looks on you.

But that would not do.

When given the chance, Kenma would say something.

And it came in the form of the two of them sitting outside at lunch, waiting for the others when they saw you with your group of female friends. You waved at the both of them before heading towards the other table. It would take a couple minutes before the other volleyball players would leave their classrooms and come here.

“(F/N) looks really happy these days.” Kuroo commented as his eyes followed you.

“Yeah. And you shouldn’t try to mess it up.” Kenma replied, not even looking up from his console.

Kuroo stiffened, but turned to his childhood friend. “And how would I do that?”

“(F/N)’s finally falling in love with someone else. Just let her be for now.”

“With someone else…?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice she was in love with you?” Kenma bit back, a frown forming on both his lips and the crease of his eyebrows.

“What?” The Nekoma captain turned to his friend more fully, looking at the blond more fully to make sure that he was being serious. “I had no idea…”

That was apparently not the reaction Kenma was hoping for, since he paused his game and placed it down. Instead, his sharp golden eyes focused and searched Kuroo in front of him.

“It’s not like it makes a difference now, right?”

Kuroo hesitated, his response drawn out. “Right.”

Kenma frowned, looking at his friend straight-on with an agonized look. He was Kuroo’s friend the longest, but the gamer still cared about you. And seeing you so down these past few years took rounds on his own mental state. He urged you on multiple occasions to say anything, if just to clear the air. But instead, you wallowed in your own feelings until you were finally able to move on.

And seeing you with Akaashi almost made him happy, reveling in the genuine cheerfulness he hadn’t seen so candidly on you in a while. Your natural, bright smiles were on display once again; rather than the tight ones Kenma had been seeing as of late.

But it seemed to have the inverse effect on his other friend.

Kenma long noticed the prolonged looks in your direction, the wistful smiles that Kuroo had whenever you laughed about something from the group. But what Kenma was not expecting was the pure anguish on his friends face after seeing you with your boyfriend.

Never had Kenma thought that Kuroo would reciprocate your feelings.

And yet he saw.

But you were both dating other people, this would do no good and only bring unnecessary drama when you were both finding happiness in other people. And so Kenma thought it was time he guided Kuroo back on the right path, back to Alisa where he was obviously interested before.

“How is your girlfriend?” Kenma asked (and while usually he would never actually care, it seemed Kuroo needed the reminder.)

Or at least, so he thought.

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore.” Kuroo responded, eyes scanning behind Kenma. But the setter knew better, he was looking for you. Whether consciously or not, Kuroo’s attention was drawn back to you.

It seemed you had it now, when you no longer wanted it.

Kenma decided not to push it anymore, Yaku and Kai coming up from the path and waving. They would be joining their lunch table soon and Kenma was sure he was just given a major secret, given how neither Lev nor Yaku had yet reacted to the news.

Was Kuroo developing feelings for you? Now of all times??

It seemed so when the situation only continued to drag on, Kuroo’s feigned smiles even enough for you to realize were a little too tight to be considered genuine. Eventually news did break out that the two of them were over. Lev glared at the captain for all of two weeks before his sister explained that they grew apart. Yaku asked if you were okay, but otherwise the team did not dwell on it much.

After all, for the first time in a while, you were happy.

Or at least, that’s what it looked like on the surface.

“Can I ask you something, honestly?” Akaashi asked you, the both of you lounging in his living room.

Akaashi was perfect in so many ways, there were times that it felt like he could read your mind over your needs and wants. So much so, that it often had you nervous or feeling inadequate in the eyes of the setter. There was always something that you thought you could improve on, always something that neither of you could see eye to eye to.

The setter made you feel adored, cared for. And while in the beginning it was exciting, to have a potential new love on the horizon after years of suffering in silence. When he kissed you, it felt nice. You reveled in the feel even, but never had you felt especially passionate. Never were there truly butterflies in your stomach. He made you feel safe, but not special.

And now, a month into your newfound relationship, there was something obviously missing to the both of you.

“How do you feel… about us?” He asked, eyes boring into your own as he sat across from you on the coffee table, you on the couch.

“You’re perfect.”

“Me.” Akaashi looked down, a grimace on his face before returning back to you. “Perfection isn’t always what we want.”

“Is something wrong, Akaashi?”

“Ask me the same question.”

You paused, before asking. “How do you feel about us?”

“I really care about you and you’ve grown to be one of my best friends.” He answered candidly.

He cared, but there was something missing. You filled in the blank for him, “But you don’t love me.”

“No, I don’t.” Akaashi confirmed before continuing, “Do you love me?”

You hesitated, eyes searching his own and going back and forth for a good minute.

“No, I don’t.”

There was no sudden heartbreak, no reason to suddenly burst out into tears. You did not love Akaashi, not in the way that you wanted to. A part of you was screaming at you, telling you to look at the man in front of you and be happy for what he was willing to give you. But another, the one that had wallowed in sadness for years, told you that running away would only cause pain in the long-run.

Akaashi had a blank expression as he took in your words before continuing, “We have everything that should make a relationship work - the routine, the friends, the dedication on both sides. But we don’t feel that deeply about one another.”

“I’m so sorry, Akaashi.”

He had a slight smile, raising a hand to your cheek and cupping your face there. “Why are you sorry? I’m sorry I asked you in the first place, when my heart ended up not being here.”

“I wish I was in love with you.”

“Me too. I’m sorry.” Akaashi repeated, “ I owe it to you to be honest. I remember when I first thought I liked you, how you wished me a good match and treated me kindly during last year's training camp. But I think I was just looking for a distraction for my heart.”

You perked up at his last words, “Is there someone you’re running from?”

“No, at least I don’t want there to be.”

“Humor me, one of your best friends.” You tried to make light of the situation, a small smile on your face. Akaashi just looked at you with a wistful smile, before glancing away. “... Is it Bokuto?”

The setter sighed before leaning back, “Was I that obvious?”

“Wait; you guys are so close!”

“Yes and I will continue to be his friend throughout our lives.” Akaashi supplied, “But he does not have romantic feelings for me, or any male really.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Akaashi replied before moving to sit next to you. “I’m sorry if it feels like I led you on.”

“No, don’t think about it that way.” You quickly responded, moving a comforting hand over his. “You had every right to try to pursue someone you thought would be enough. And honestly, you’re not the only one who doesn’t feel that spark.”

Akaashi upturned his hand and squeezed yours, “You’re the first person I’ve ever told about Bokuto.”

You turned to him and smiled, “Thank you for telling me. You know, it’s weird. But I still want to be really good friends with you.”

Akaashi was caressing around your fingers, “Me too. I always felt drawn to you, but I guess I know why.”

You flashed him a genuine smile before pulling him into a hug, “Thank you, Akaashi.”

And while you reassured each other that there were no hurt feelings, that did not mean you were entirely scott-free. Akaashi was still one of your close friends, someone you could be honest too without fear and get the same communication in return. But another part of you was especially hurt, wondering if Kuroo had ruined you for any other boy in the future.

On paper, Akaashi should have been the perfect boyfriend that would help guide you out of your feelings. But there was no spark there, nothing that ignited between the two of you to be all over each other and fall in love with one another. Would your heart be stuck on the one person you could never have?

The next day at school, this very thought continued to plague you. You were quiet through class and even worse during lunch, keeping to yourself and gazing out the window wondering if your heart would ever accept someone else.

Both Kuroo and Kenma had sent you prodding looks throughout the day, your childhood friends almost instantly aware that something was off. But you did not want to face them now, not when you were still unsure about life in general.

How’s your day going?

Akaashi had texted you a little after lunch. And while it should have been weird for exes to stay in contact, Akaashi did not necessarily feel like that. He was your friend, a really close one at that. And it seemed you were the only two people in-tune to a secret.

Absolute shiet. You texted back, And you?

Very much the same.

You sighed before typing, Existential crisis if you’ll ever love again?

Yes and it doesn’t help that Bokuto parades like a peacock.

But you love it.

… I do.

There was something comforting about talking about this with someone else. At least you had a close friend who understood what it was like. The others could listen and follow along, but Akaashi knew what it was like to have the heartbreak of a long, unrequited love.

You felt a small vibration after a few minutes and turned back to your phone.

Have you told the others yet?

Not yet, you?

I probably will today after practice.

That was another problem you did not want to breach. It would be hard to explain why you two had broken up, but at the same time it was not anyone else’s business. Regardless, that was a bandage you had to pull off later. And so you just kept staring outside the classroom window, hoping for this day to pass quickly.

Hearing you sigh for the ninth time in twenty minutes, Kuroo could feel himself almost physically itching in his seat to ask you what was wrong.

Did Akaashi do something wrong? Are you guys okay? Are you guys still dating?

But the look Kenma was shooting at him was enough warning that Kuroo should not interfere. You would come to the rest of them if it was important, but a bit part of him wanted to know now.

And throughout volleyball practice after school, Kuroo felt his gaze almost latch onto you in every free second he had. From when you were filling up water bottles to adjusting the scoreboard, Kuroo’s anxiety kept his eyes on you at all times off the court.

Yaku had even kicked at his knees for being so obvious.

But you said nothing, withdrawn like you had been all day at school. You were still physically present, but your smiles were noticeably tight.

It was only when the five of you had departed from school — Yaku, Kai, and Kenma audience to your quiet words.

“Akaashi and I broke up.”

They were nothing for a few seconds, Kuroo even hesitating in his step as he took in your words. Kenma put down his phone while Yaku moved closer to you, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“When did this happen? Yesterday?” The libero questioned.

“Yeah.”

“What did he do!? Did he hurt you?” Yaku continued, rising anger visible on his face. Kai looked equally worried to your left.

“What? No!” You stopped in your tracks and raised your palms in defense. “It’s not like that... It’s actually mutual.”

Yaku’s eyes widened and then narrowed in confusion, “What? But you guys were doing so well.”

“Maybe on the outside.” You replied, “But he didn’t feel like my boyfriend, only in name. We agreed that something was off, it didn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?” Kuroo asked this time, his cat-like gaze clinging onto your words.

“I couldn’t love Akaashi, not like that at least.” You explained, head down as you recalled the day prior.

“I’m so sorry.” Yaku put his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a deep hug.

“I’m so scared.” You admitted to your close friends, feeling yourself tear up against the Libero’s chest. “If I couldn’t fall in love with Akaashi who was perfect, what’s wrong with me?”

You felt something shift as Yaku maneuvered you around, a new set of arms wrapped around you.

“Nothings wrong with you.” Kuroo reassured, his taller stature dominating the hug as his strong arms pressed you into his chest.

“He should’ve been the one.” Your voice was near whispering, “And now it’s over.”

Kenma held one of your free hands, squeezing it as he looked at you. “I have ice cream at home if you want to share.”

You sighed out a smile, the first real one today. “Okay.”

Kuroo continued to hold your hand the entire way home, even after Yaku and Kai had waved off in a different direction. Kenma said nothing, not even typing away on his phone as the three of you took the train back.

You told yourself that Kuroo was just comforting you. He was one of your best friends, that’s all there was. There was no point in looking for more, especially when that overthinking is what got you so latched on in the first place.

But it was hard to think nothing of it when you were hyper-aware of Kuroo’s touch. It was more than just holding hands. It was the arm around you on the train, pulling you into his side. The feather light feel of his cheek against yours. The way his eyes lingered on you the entire night.

God, Kuroo had you under his spell this entire time, hadn’t he?

It did not let up when you were eating ice cream in Kenma’s house and a part of you wanted to signal the blonde for help when Kuroo offered to walk the rest of the way home with you.

But Kenma knew you better than your own mind, offering you a mischievous smirk before waving the two of you goodnight.

Kuroo reached for your hand again and you pretended to be on your phone, occupied before he could make the move. But when you put it away, there was no mistaking it, he grabbed your hand then and the fight was over.

How ironic.

You accepted a break-up with your boyfriend because of how hung up you were with the middle-blocker in front of you.

And now that you had his attention, it only made you want to run away.

“Thanks for walking me home.” You tried to pull your hand away once your house was in sight.

But Kuroo’s grip was relentless. “A lot of bad stuff can happen between here and the end of the block.”

And so you followed along, holding hands like two friends being bro’s, you screamed at yourself that that was all there was.

When he kissed your forehead goodnight? Nope. Just some homie love, nothing else. Who’s looking into this? Not you.

But it only persisted as the week went by.

You broke the news to the rest of the team the next day, Lev offering to stomp him into the ground during the next practice match. But you reassured them by no means was Akaashi in the wrong. Still, the other members would coddle you in smaller ways.

Yaku kept an eye out for you while Lev and Inuoka would pull you into sweaty hugs. Kai would offer you fruit packs time to time and Kenma had even let you place his newest game. They were all trying in their own little ways, but Kuroo was the most prominent of the bunch.

He was especially hanging around you, making arrangements to sit next to you at lunch, even when you started off the period with someone else. Any and all of your free time between periods was somehow spent together, whether in the classroom, the art room, or anywhere on campus.

He was just being a good friend after all. You went through a breakup of all things, he was just looking out for one of his best bro’s. Right?

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know, but what for now?” You asked Kenma, his dead-panned face across the lunch table giving away nothing.

Once you had retreated to the roof just for a quiet moment alone, but he found you regardless. Tucked under his arm was some milk bread from the school concession and some juice packs.

He greeted you before motioning to his makeshift care-package, “Thought you’d like a snack.”

“Thanks, Kuroo.” You motioned to sit-up, but he took the seat on the bench next to you. “You’ve really been there for me this week.”

Kuroo paused before putting a gentle hand over your own, “I care about you a lot.”

“This goes both ways, y’know.” You replied, an honest smile reflecting back at him before you turned to put straws in the juice pack.

“I don’t want to rush you or anything….” Kuroo continued, “But know that I love you.”

“Aw, I love you too!” You answered back, offering a juice pack back to him.

Kuroo went through the motion and grabbed the juice, eyes narrowed in confusion as you easily reflected his words back at him.

Were you really not getting it?

“No, I mean like.” Frustrated, Kuroo grabbed at his hair. “Here.”

He put both juices down, his free hand moving to your cheek, pulling you closer as he brushed his lips above your brow. You stilled at the motion, but Kuroo lingered for a moment before withdrawing enough to look you in the eyes.

“I’m in love with you. Please give me a chance to show you.”

You backed up immediately, hands flying between you as you stood.

“Woah, I— since when?!”

“A month ago.” Kuroo stood as well, “Just enough to realize I didn’t want to lose you to anyone else.”

You groaned aloud, “Kuroo, that’s not what love is.”

“Yes, it is. Love means I want to hold you and make you mine, to kiss you now and every day if I can.” He retorted, not moving in his spot and his eyes connected with yours.

“Kuroo, this… I don’t know!” You stumbled along your words, unable to hold his intense gaze as he bared his feelings.

“I don’t mean to rush you, but I think it’d only be fair if you were aware of my feelings.”

You bit your lip, it seemed your life was full of ironies.

“I used to be in love with you for so long, Kuroo.”

He stopped then, eyes widening in surprise as you dropped your longest secret on your best friend.

“And then you were dating and in love with Alissa and I wanted nothing more than to move from you. And for my feelings to be nothing but a sad memory.”

“I wasn’t in love with her.” Kuroo cut in.

“That doesn’t really matter, does it? Because I wasn’t enough for you to see then so what difference does it make now?”

“Wait.” Kuroo stepped closer and you took a reflexive step back, making him stop. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you were going on and on about her! All of you — the whole team talked about her like she was the perfect person for you.” You answered, getting visibly agitated. “And who was I to stop you from being happy?”

Kuroo sighed, a small wistful smile on his face as he heard of your struggles. “God, I love you.”

“What?!”

“She doesn’t make me happy. Not like you do.”

“Kuroo — !”

“Stop overthinking.” Kuroo took two wide steps before you could run away, grabbing at your waist and encasing you in his arms. “I’m sorry that I hurt you in the past, but I am begging you to let me show you how much you mean to me.”

“But what if—“

“No. Stop thinking about the ifs.” Kuroo interrupted, leaning forward to press his lips against your forehead. “Let me prove to you how much I love you.”

You felt the crease of his lips against your skin, slowly making its way down before connecting your lips together in a chaste peck.

He could feel your hesitation, the way your hands stayed balled at your sides. “I won’t rush you. But please, give us a chance.”

You closed your eyes shut, taking a deep breathe before raising a palm to his chest.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You laughed lightly, “Yes, you big ole nerd.”

Kuroo shot you one of his honest smiles back, not one of the goading smirks he sent opposing teams or the charismatic one when we wanted something. One of the arms around your waist crawled it’s way upward, settling behind your head as it pulled you closer.

He kissed at your forehead again, especially careful before he made his way downward. Taking some initiative, you leaned upward to kiss him firm on the lips.

Kuroo recoiled back in surprise before smiling again, pulling you into his chest as he leaned down for another smooch. The skin of his lips was surprisingly smooth, silky as it moved against yours.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Kuroo.”

—xXxXxXxXxXx—

Extra:

Your break with Akaashi was so minimal that you were actually excited to see the setter during Fukurodani’s practice match.

If only your team felt the same.

You reminded them time and time again that your break was nothing to worry about and it should definitely not be the reason behind unnecessary drama. Especially since you were Kuroo now, not even two weeks after. But with the way Lev and Yaku were training, you were sure they were going to attempt a beat down.

When the Fukurodani team entered the gym the next day, you waved at the managers excitedly and it was Kaori that came up to you looking sheepish.

“How’ve you been holding up?”

“Honestly, really well!” You answered.

“Oh, so you haven’t heard?”

“Heard about what?” You asked back, only to light up when Akaashi neared you. Giving him a hug in greeting, you smiled happily at the two.

“Woah.” Kaori commented.

“How’ve you been doing?” Akaashi asked as he pulled away from your prolonged hug, still shoulder-to-shoulder with you.

“Good — I would watch out for Lev though. I think he wants to pummel you.”

Akaashi sighed, “Beautiful.”

“Hey hey hey!” Bokuto cut in, literally in between the two of you and putting some space. “Who’s beautiful?”

The setter sighed before looking toward you.

“Don’t worry, Bokuto. We both can appreciate Akaashi’s beauty.” You joked, but the wing-spiker threw a possessive arm over his shoulders.

“Good — as long as you know he’s all mine.” Bokuto continued, pulling a red-faced Akaashi toward him.

You smiled before feeling an arm around your own shoulders.

“Am I missing out on the party?” Kuroo asked, playful tone contrasting with his hard gaze. He was trying a little too hard to look casual, but it was clear from his eyes that he was sizing up your ex-boyfriend.

“Nothing to miss out on.” You responded. “Just wanted to say hi to my good friend, Akaashi.”

Bokuto turned to the man under his hold and the setter nodded in agreement, “We text often, it’s nice to actually see each other.”

“You’re never this excited to see me!”

Akaashi smiled playfully before replying, “Bokuto-san, we see each other every day. Seeing her is special.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes, evaluating the direction before leaning back. “Fine. Why don’t we catch-up too, Bokuto?”

“What? Are you crazy —!?”

But Kuroo was not paying attention, leaning down to give you a sloppy kiss with the other three as the audience.

He held the back of your head, guiding you back into him as you unintentionally moaned into his embrace. Kuroo particularly enjoyed ravishing you now, licking at your inner walls and relishing the slick of saliva that connected you two even after he pulled away.

“You asshole!” Bokuto exclaimed when Kuroo grabbed him, pulling him along as you stood there attempting to fix yourself.

Akaashi laughed at the display before turning to you with a smile.

“What a kiss.” Kaori had her hands to her face, secondhand embarrassment apparent from the blush. “Looks like Kuroo is every bit the jealous type as Bokuto.”

“Not usually.” You replied, still feeling the heat from your cheeks.

“I’m glad you found someone who makes you happy.” Akaashi stated, grabbing your hand and squeezing it.

“I’m glad Bokuto came to his senses too.” You responded, squeezing in kind before hearing both your names exclaimed from across the gym.

“5 feet away, minimum!” Bokuto was stretching out a space between his hands, pointing at the two of you.

Akaashi sighed before letting go, shooting you a tired but endearing smile. Kaori laughed, saying you two were so odd, but glad that the friendship between schools was preserved.

But it was the look on Kuroo’s face, as his narrowed eyes travelled from the setter than back to you, that told you just what was in store for you later.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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smhalltheurlsaretaken · 4 years

Text

THE BOX IS NABOO

That’s it, I’m doing it, I’m writing that stupid meta I’ve had in the works for two and a half years, I’m sharing it with the world. I promised it for last Thursday, my poll was forever ago, but whatever! I’m writing that freaking thing.

(super duper long post, press j to skip)

Enter my rabbit hole.

First thing to establish: the Box makes no sense whatsoever in-universe.

((EDIT: Something I forgot to mention. IRL, the premise of a giant murder cube and the aesthetic - wall patterns, light designs, etc - of the episode come from the 1997 horror movie Cube, (see the episode’s wookieepedia page). However, while the two are very closely linked visually, the Box does not follow the movie structurally or narratively, as you can verify by simply reading the movie’s summary.))

Recap of the context for the "Box" episode (s4e17): Palpatine is planning his own kidnapping. It was never meant to succeed, and while the plan would obviously benefit him (making the Jedi look bad, pushing Anakin closer to the Dark Side, making Republic citizens more afraid -> more docile, etc...) his actual goal is never explained, and it’s weird that he’d go to such extreme lengths for results so minimal that we’re never told what they are.

So Palpatine asks Dooku to kidnap him at the Festival of Lights on Naboo. Dooku hires Moralo Eval to design a giant box-thingy to test bounty hunters to hire the best of them to kidnap Palpatine. Moralo then gets arrested to alert the Republic that something is afoot, and hires Cad Bane to break him out. Obi-Wan - undercover to learn Moralo’s plan - goes with them. They evade capture and go to Serenno, and Bane and Obi-Wan have to pass the box-thingy test. The level of brainkarked logic here... Truly on par with Megamind, Gru and Heinz Doofenshmirtz.

Setting aside the insane plot holes and utterly nonsensical behavior of the villains, the Box itself is moronic from a plot perspective. It’s insanely complex, obviously incredibly expensive and would have taken months (more like years but it’s a short war) to make when it’s not even needed for the dastardly plot! Just hire some guys who have already proven themselves against Jedi! Throw cash at Bane and Embo and a few others! Maybe attack them with your saber and see how they do!

And after all that, Dooku still ends up trying to kidnap Palpatine on his own. I can’t even...

So why does the Box exist? Well, apart from being a nerdy callback to Cube, giving us a good thrill and being generally awesome to look at, it has actual narrative purpose within the SW universe.

The box is Naboo.

What the Box lacks in plot relevance, it makes up for with its heavily symbolic meaning. It very closely follows Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s experiences on Naboo - but only certain parts, which I’ll explain later.

We start with clean, sterile environments, SW’s favored way of showing villainy.

Then we have the protagonists locked in a room as dioxis, a poison gas, pours in.

And then they escape... this way.

(Okay, here the shaft is down, not up. And it’s not a ventilation shaft per say, it’s the designed escape route. Same difference).

We then skip most of TPM (namely, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon discovering the droid army, finding Padmé, leaving Naboo, landing on Tatooine, going to Coruscant, etc, etc) to come back to Naboo and go directly to the lightsabers and catwalks.

(Note: in both scenes, Obi-Wan has to propel himself from a catwalk.)

In TPM and TCW, the catwalks are immediately followed by ray shields

And we finally end with the last scenes. Now, they don’t look the same but they are structurally identical.

Obi-Wan is faced with a challenge unsuited for his abilities (facing Darth Maul // shooting three moving targets when he’s far more skilled with a blade than a blaster) on a narrow space above a melting pit/pit of fire.

He first watches someone die failing to complete the task...

... and has to do it himself, faring much better than expected (holding his own against Maul // shooting all the targets easily).

He then almost falls to his death and gets saved unexpectedly.

And then there’s the final showdown.

In both scenes, Obi-Wan is angry. And in TCW Dooku eggs him on, banking on his anger. (More on that later.) In both cases though, he centers himself and is able to overcome both his opponent and his own unbalance. But in TCW, he doesn’t go for the kill, because he doesn’t need to.

The Box, as a literal character-explorator ex-machina, thus shows us Obi-Wan’s growth.

In TPM, Obi-Wan follows Qui-Gon’s lead. In TCW, he is the leader. He identifies the gas, makes the plans. He doesn’t fall from catwalks anymore - he runs atop moving ones. He doesn’t stay stuck behind ray-shields, he finds the solution. (Btw, how did Moralo know what blood type Derrown the Exterminator was? There was a 50% chance of him dying - thus killing all of the bounty hunters. Was that an acceptable outcome? TCW I need answers!) He doesn’t slay his foes, because he’s become powerful enough, skilled enough and wise enough to survive (and win) without needing to kill.

He’s grown - and, even more interestingly, he’s also stayed the same. In the previous episodes, we see some of the dark aspects of Obi-Wan. How he - like all Force-wielders, all people - could lose himself if he stopped maintaining absolute control.

But in the Box, surrounded by the worst criminals of the Galaxy, the most ruthless, worthless people, he’s still kind and tries his best to keep them alive.

The Box is a reminder and a reassurance for the audience that Obi-Wan Kenobi is still there under Rako’s face. He hasn’t lost his compassion, his restrain. He’s still a Jedi. And he’s an awesome, badass one.

And now, for what it tells us about Dooku!

It’s much shorter, don’t worry. Basically, Dooku considers that the best way to pick “the best of the best” of the deadliest people in the Galaxy is making them go through what killed his Padawan. There, I’ve broken your hearts, you’re welcome.

More seriously, Dooku is a manipulative ass. It’s pretty clear that he knows Rako is Obi-Wan, or at the very least suspects it.

He has an interesting reaction upon learning Rako’s identity, he keeps praising him despite his usual distaste for low-lifes, he smirks secretively after Eval says “I’ll show you who’s weak” (not included there because it’s a close-up of Dooku’s lips and no one wants to see that) and he tells Rako he’s very disappointed when he doesn’t finish off Eval.

[Later]

(Look at this smug asshole - I can’t. YOUR GRANDSON IS THE BEST, WE KNOW, STOP ACTIVELY RUINING HIS LIFE ALREADY.)

(Dooku... why...)

Now obviously Dooku couldn’t have made the Box specifically for Obi-Wan, because it would have to have been designed months before the Council ever decided to send Obi-Wan undercover, but he has no qualms trying to use it to push Obi-Wan to the Dark Side. Ffs Dooku, making your spiritual grandson relive one of the most traumatic events of his life on the off chance that he’ll join you (and desecrate his Master’s memory in doing so) is not okay!

Final tidbits of analysis: I mentioned that not all of TPM is mirrored in the Box. What’s omitted is the droids (even though Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon fight B1′s and droidekas between the dioxis and the ventilation shafts) and anything pertaining to Sidious (all the political stuff on Coruscant). You’ll also note that the fake lightsabers are orange.

=> The Box distances itself from anything that connects Dooku to Naboo. Red lightsabers are the trademark of the Sith, so they’re not used. The bounty hunters will be facing Jedi, so logically the fake sabers should be green or blue - and yet they’re orange, the color closest to red without being red. It fits with Dooku’s special brand of dishonesty - he always tells bits of the real story but twists them just enough to absolve himself of any fault and to justify his choices.

(”We can destroy the Sith” -> could maybe destroy Sidious with Obi-Wan, but fails to mention he’s a Sith Lord himself; “the Viceroy came to me for help, that’s why I’m attacking the Republic” -> political idealism is a small part of it, but fails to mention he’s Sidious’ underling and is playing the Viceroy like a fiddle; “Qui-Gon would have joined me” -> maybe, still fails to mention he’s working for the man who ordered Qui-Gon’s death; “I told you everything you needed to know” -> debatable, never said that Palps was Sidious; “Sifo-Dyas understood, that’s why he helped me” -> partly true, doesn’t admit to killing Sifo-Dyas right after getting his help)

So we have a twisted version of Naboo, droid-free (as droids are now irrevocably associated with Dooku, even if that wasn’t the case in TPM) and with sabers that aren’t quite red. Keep in mind that Dooku had already fallen by TPM. (We know this because he killed Sifo-Dyas and created the Clone Army - part of Sidious’ plan - when Valorum was still Chancellor, as per the episode The Lost One.) That means Dooku was (in)directly complicit in Qui-Gon’s death. And the Box doesn’t (=refuses to?) acknowledge that.

(Also omitted in the Box are the Gungans and Tatooine. It makes sense, because Dooku probably wouldn’t have the full details regarding those parts of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s missio as they weren’t as public, and would see them as irrelevant if he did. He utterly despises Anakin, and Gungans are the type of people he always dismisses out of hand).

Anyway, that’s my two cents about the Box. To quote Lucas...

“It’s like poetry. It rhymes.”

Thanks to @lethebantroubadour @impossiblybluebox @nonbinarywithaknife @ytoz and @kaitie85386 for voting for this one. Next up is a compilation of the Jedi being casually tactile with each other (because they’re a warm and affectionate culture, dammit).

Also thanks to @laciefuyu for giving me gifs I ended up not using ^^; you rock anyway!

#meta #my meta #the box #deception arc #rako hardeen #rako hardeen arc #naboo #obi-wan kenobi #count dooku #cad bane #moralo eval #darth sidious

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random-thought-depository · 3 years

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Tangent from my last post: reading over this and thinking about it, I’ve pinpointed a disagreement that I think reveals a fundamental disagreement I have with the ideas I was responding to there.

Seph’s essay talks about liberal sexual consent practices as requiring a shift toward a more Culture A style of social interaction; requiring a willingness to actively assert your own interests instead of engaging in Culture B accommodationism. And that’s true, but I immediately recognized that it’s incomplete in a way that I think fundamentally distorts what’s happening, though it took me a while to think out exactly how. Saying “no” involves a degree of Culture A type assertiveness, but respecting that “no” and pro-actively making sure your partner is enjoying things involves an attentiveness to feelings, an accommodationism, and an attentiveness to maintaining harmony that’s more Culture B.

Like, if you drew up two columns, one labeled “Macho Republican Dad Boomerpost Stuff” and one labeled “Softy SJW Stuff,” and started sorting things into those columns by which group they’re more stereotypically associated with (bacon, guns, capitalism, Christianity, complaining about “cancel culture,” and calling people sissies as an insult into the Republican Dad column, tofu, queerness, feminism, socialism, veganism, accusing people of microaggressions, and being a Wiccan into the SJW column, etc.), I think liberal sexual norms placing a high premium on explicit consent would definitely stereotypically belong in the “SJW” column. And in this context I think that’s revealing.

I think what’s happening here is fundamentally orthogonal to Culture A vs. Culture B. I think, like a lot of left vs. right divides, it fundamentally comes down to hierarchy vs. egalitarianism. Liberal sexual norms emphasizing consent are a rejection of the pecking order method of simply resolving sexual conflicts of interests in favor of the person with more power, whether that power is social status, physical strength, emotional intelligence, or just being more willing to press for their interests. Culture A vs. Culture B is fundamentally orthogonal to what’s really going on here; trying to understanding this issue through that lens is at best like trying to understand the US Civil War through the lens of doctrinal disputes between different types of Christianity (you may get some genuine insights, but you’ve mistaken the fringes of the conflict for its core), and at worst like trying to understand the US Civil War through the lens of doctrinal disputes between Sunni and Shia Islam.

Actually I think the “trying to understand the US Civil War through the lens of Christian doctrine disputes” may be a good analogy, because I think this does tie back to the “the left/liberal side of the culture war is waging a war against Culture A” hypothesis in a way that reveals how that idea is not exactly wrong but misses an important dimension of what’s happening. I think what’s happening is that hierarchy is more explicit and explicitly enforced in Culture A, and therefore as society becomes less like a pecking order hierarchy tends to assume Culture B characteristics.

Culture A is where you find the human hierarchies that look the most like actual pecking orders, which are maintained by literal physical pecking. It’s where you find the openly brutal world of bosses screaming “the leads aren’t weak, you are!” into a cringing subordinate’s face, cops quietly taking an uncooperative suspect into a convenient alley and roughing him up a little to “teach him to respect our authority,” gangsters beating somebody up for being insufficiently deferential to them, some 6′3 250 pound guy in the grips of road rage punching some 5′7 150 pound guy in the face over a smashed bumper, teachers disciplining students by giving them hard blows on the palm with a ruler, a swaggering thug threatening a woman with physical violence because she had the effrontery to object to him groping her, and jocks having some fun inflicting casual physical abuse on the nerds in the locker room and on the playground. Hierarchies in Culture A are often maintained by physical violence and the threat thereof and put-downs and other explicit verbal bullying. When somebody in Culture A thinks you’ve gotten a bit above your station and wants to put your in your place, they’re likely to either actually use physical violence against you, explicitly threaten you with it, or explicitly insult you. Abuse in Culture A tends to look like our stereotypical picture of some swaggering thug openly terrorizing somebody who has some sort of vulnerability.

By contrast, hierarchies in Culture B tend to operate under more polite fictions of relative egalitarianism, cooperativeness, and non-violence. Enforcement of Culture B hierarchies tends to be less overtly violent. Culture B hierarchies are more likely to be covert and legible only to somebody with inside knowledge (e.g. you’ve ostensibly got a group of equals, but some are more equal than others because of advantages that mostly aren’t explicitly acknowledged). Culture B tends to have more of an ideal that coercive power can only be legitimately exercised for moral reasons, while Culture A tends to have more of a “master morality” culture where power is seen as worthy of respect in itself (Culture A is what gave us “Chad” and “alpha” as aspirational ideals), which is why bullying in Culture B tends to have a moralistic and fearmongering nature (see: Tumblr call-out posts) while bullying in Culture A tends to follow a more “master morality” logic of “our victim is weak and aesthetically displeasing to us, and that in itself makes them deserve punishment” - though much like “Culture A rewards strength and technical skills, Culture B rewards social skills and popularity” that’s a dichotomy that can easily be overplayed; most human hierarchies come with a hefty dose of community-minded moralism (even if the community is a pirate ship or criminal gang or something like that), and social skills and popularity are hugely important in almost any culture. Culture B is for people who wouldn’t dream of doing anything so barbaric as yelling at you or punching you because they’re mad at you; they’d complain to the human resources department who’d force you to spend a Friday evening listening to somebody lecture you about the need to “make our store a welcoming environment for our valued customers.”

An archetypal abusive Culture A authority figure is the macho thuggish “respect mah authoritay!” cop. An archetypal abusive Culture B authority figure is the gaslighty Nice Lady Therapist. The former is more-or-less open about the fact that he sees himself as above you in the pecking order and if you dispute that he’ll be delighted to enforce the pecking order in approximately the way chickens do it. The latter pretends to be your friend (and perhaps believes themselves to be that), and expends a great deal of effort tailoring their pecking order enforcement to not look like pecking order enforcement - significantly, they might like to be as openly brutal as the “respect mah authoritay!” cop is, but in strong Culture B that social strategy just doesn’t work; their social strategy represents a compromise with socially influential ideals of egalitarianism and non-violence, a tribute that vice pays to virtue (less charitably, it may simply reflect playing to different strengths and trying to minimize different weaknesses, e.g. the thuggish cop may have chosen that social strategy because he’s a physically powerful but not particularly socially intelligent Biff Tannen type, while the Nice Lady Therapist may have chosen that social strategy because she’s a socially intelligent and Machiavellian but physically feeble 4′10 woman).

In short, Culture B tends to both meaningfully soften the blows of pecking order enforcement and obfuscate them. It follows that as equalizing movements gain ground and explicit pecking order logic becomes more taboo, hierarchy will increasingly take on Culture B characteristics. In 1700, if you angered your boss in some petty interpersonal way he might have whipped you, which was his right as your master. Today, if you anger your boss in some petty interpersonal way she might think a little about how to get revenge on you in a way that doesn’t risk blowback if you take it up with the union, and then find some excuse to arrange for you to have to attend some mandatory HR remedial training that isn’t officially a punishment but let’s be real, totally is. Maybe in 2200 you won’t have a boss because you’ll work in an officially egalitarian syndicalist union, but there will be some union members who are “more equal than others” because of personal connections or charisma or some combination of both, and if you anger one of them in a petty interpersonal way they might through whisper networks arrange a quiet campaign to make sure the union votes against your requests for your favorite foods on the workplace lunch menu.

I guess I’m staking out a position as a hedging kind-of partisan of Culture B here. There’s a lot of talk about how Culture B gets an undeserved good reputation and can be just as unfair and cruel as Culture A but in a more insidious way, and I’m sympathetic to that and I think there’s a lot of truth to that, but, y’know, if I had to choose between pecking order enforcement that has to maintain a plausible veneer of being something else and just open undiluted sadistic pecking order enforcement, I think I’d prefer the former. I think even just adding in a requirement of hypocrisy improves things, because it forces pecking order enforcement to optimize for plausible deniability instead of sadism and effective tyranny. Admittedly, as somebody who finds this very relatable I have a strong personal bias here.

An illustrative personal anecdote: the usual stereotype of high school is that bullied kids (or at least bullied boys) suffer a lot of casual physical abuse, but I noticed that in my school there was a lot of verbal bullying but mercifully little physical abuse; the worst that was likely to happen in terms of physical violence was somebody tripping you up or throwing a box of kleenix at you or spitting their drink at you or something like that. I suspect the reason was that blatant physical violence was pretty much the only form of bullying the school administration would reliably punish (though they’d likely punish the victim right along with the perpetrator), and that’s why it usually wasn’t done. I suspect what happened is that stereotype of chronic casual physical abuse reflects what schools were like when the baby boomers were growing up (and boomers then wrote fiction etc. that reflected that experience that shaped the pop culture stereotype), but then anti-bullying reforms came along and by the late ‘90s and early ‘00s they’d achieved one great success: mostly eliminating that schoolyard culture of casual physical violence. And that was a very incomplete fix, just addressing the tip of the iceberg of the problem and probably often redirecting bullying into psychological abuse rather than actually reducing it... but, y’know, I’m really glad my middle and high school experience didn’t conform to that pop culture stereotype of the school dweeb getting regularly beaten up by four or six bigger kids. I had an awful time in middle and high school, but judging from pop culture stereotypes it could have been so much worse, and if suspensions for kids who punched other kids is what created that difference, then I’m profoundly grateful for that reform.

I think the left is kinda-sorta waging war on Culture A as a side-effect of its war on pecking order culture, in which high-status people enjoy the advantages of Culture A while low-status people labor under the disadvantages of Culture B. It’s not an accident that Culture A is associated with men and Culture B is associated with women. Accommodation (sometimes to the point of self-harm) is a survival strategy for low-status people in a social structure that resembles a pecking order; if you’re going to lose the fight, it often makes sense to pre-emptively accept a settlement that favors the interests of the stronger person (often to the extent of trying to anticipate the stronger person’s wants, performing even the brain work of figuring out their preferences for them). Competitiveness is a social strategy for upward mobility in a pecking order society or defense of a place near the top of the pecking order (it also has more pro-social functions so we probably want to keep it around in some form, but social competition is very much part of its function). Women tend to be reluctant to openly advocate for their personal interests because for much of history a woman openly advocating for her personal interests was likely to provoke status-guarding retaliation from men. Men tend to be reluctant to show vulnerability and see doing so as feminine because for much of history other men were likely to perceive a vulnerable man as an opportunity to increase their own social status by lowering the vulnerable man’s social status, and as a rule of thumb to lower a man’s social status was to give him a social status more like a woman’s. In the context of a pecking order society, a lot of Culture B makes sense as social strategies for people at the bottom of the pecking order with little realistic shot of escaping its lower levels, and a lot of Culture A makes sense as social strategies for people at the top of the pecking order and people at the bottom or middle of the pecking order who have a realistic shot at using high-risk high-reward social strategies to move up in the hierarchy. I think there’s some complicating factors around reproductive dynamics that explain why this is a gendered thing instead of just a class thing, but I won’t get into that here. So it makes sense that as society becomes less like a pecking order that process will involve shifts toward Culture A in some areas and shifts toward Culture B in other areas, because those cultures are probably both somewhat maladaptive in a more egalitarian social context.

A relevant example is that for much of history vigorously advocating their own sexual interests was often very risky for women, so Culture B primes women to pre-emptively accept a settlement that favors the man’s sexual interests, so liberal consent norms work better if women develop more assertiveness about their own interests, which looks kind of Culture A-ish. At the same time, women now have more leverage to effectively demand that men perform pro-social Culture B behaviors of accommodation, empathy, and consideration for the feelings and interests of others in the context of heterosexual sex.

----------

Tangential aside: I think thinking of hierarchy as the fundamental tension point of the left vs. right conflict illustrates a way that post I was responding to might be kind of too meta and you might get an illuminating perspective by stepping back from all that meta-level theorizing about fundamental epistemological differences and looking at the object level.

If you analyze left-wing “cancel culture” at the object level, what does it look like it’s trying to do? It seems to me that it’s trying to lower the social acceptability of what leftists perceive as defenses of hierarchy. Who are the stereotypical targets of campus “cancel culture”? They might be a “race realist” who’s very eager to tell you about how he thinks certain human groups have lower IQs or other congenital traits maladaptive to modern society and darkly hint about political implications. They might be a business libertarian economist who wants to stump for the gospel of the free market. They might be somebody who has a habit of delivering the academic equivalent of boomerposts about kids these days with their coddling and their trigger warnings and their genders. They might be some principled “free speech” type who seems to spend a lot of their energy white knighting for neo-Nazis and other far-right types. They might be somebody who you’d think would be relatively unobjectionable to leftists but who’s said something that can be uncharitably interpreted as bigoted at some point. Besides raw factionalism, the obvious common point is something that can be reasonably interpreted as a defense of hierarchy. The “race realist” at least implicitly says “some groups are smarter or otherwise better than others and may therefore be rightfully deserving of privilege.” The business libertarian economist at least implicitly says “if you’re poor because you can’t get a job or can’t get a job that pays well, that’s basically your problem and the system working as intended; a society with great inequalities of wealth and status may not be ideal but it’s at least better than all the realistic alternatives.” The academic boomerposter at least implicitly says “some people struggle in our education system because of personal emotional sensitivities; their weakness is their own problem and us more functional people have no obligation to accommodate it, if that harms them it may be regrettable but it’s basically the system working as it should to weed out those unfit for it.” The principled free speech proponent at least implicitly says “wanting to kill the Jews and re-enslave the blacks and have white Sharia should be a tolerated opinion in our society, at least insofar as it should not be legally persecuted, and I am willing to devote considerable efforts to defending that principle.” The basically unobjectionable liberal who happens to have a dodgy comment or three in their social media record at least implicitly says “I don’t think I should get too much blowback for once implying that [insert group of concern here] maybe deserves the jackboot to the face.”

And sure, you can dispute the fairness of such judgements, but the over-arching project outlined by these targets seems fairly obvious: to raise the social costs of what leftists perceive as defending pecking orders.

And, like, yeah, there’s some meta-level differences about the role of tolerance and debate too, but I suspect a lot of the disagreement is really more object-level, over how objectionable certain opinions actually are, e.g. a lot of the dispute over “cancelling” the business libertarian guy is probably going to be over 1) how objectionable defense of hierarchy actually is, 2) whether libertarian beliefs are actually defenses of hierarchy.

#people are complicated #my big ideas #leftism #culture #warning: long #cw: bullying #cw: violence #cw: rape #cw: bigotry #politics

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phoenixtakaramono · 3 years

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So I'm here to say that I really love your Bingyuan fic! The research you do for it and share with us is just amazing! I also have a q regarding LBG. From SV we know that he felt admiration for his Shizun so do you think that if SJ wasn't cruel to him LBG's admiration would've grown into love and attraction like it did in LBH's case for SY? Which then also raises a question: would LBH/LBG fall in love with any Shizun who was kind to him? Or was he just drawn to SJ's type of personality. WDYT?

Hi there, Anon! I’m glad you’re liking the Untold Tale! Thanks for reading! I think it lowkey helps when the story I’m writing (in general) is from a culture I’m familiar with and that I know some of its language nuances (just general Mainland dialect; I’m unfamiliar with Shanghainese, the Beijing dialect, etc etc). So fortunately for me, as someone who is Chinese but was born in the Western side of the world speaking Mandarin to family and friends, emulating the Chinese aesthetic and atmosphere in TUT comes a little bit easier to me than someone who did not grow up with this culture. I bet if I had been raised in China, I would be able to write something even more multilayered and deep but, alas, the youthful rebellious me of the past hadn’t taken my pinyin and Chinese character writing lessons seriously so I can only communicate verbally and understand audibly 😫. It’s very special for us writers in fandoms to be able to write a story of a culture that we actually know and can identify with. But high key it’s been immensely fun injecting some references of things I’ve come to notice from watching period C-dramas and the C-novels I’ve read, and I’ve come to learn interesting things about Chinese history and mythology even I didn’t know! So the story really writes itself.

Shen Jiu (OG!Shen Qingqiu)

To answer your question 🤔, to be honest this is why the SVSSS fandom is great—because there’s so many interpretations of the original source material. That’s why we have our headcanons and fanfictions to explore these many different possibilities. So for me personally, I can see it happening both ways: *1) LBG does develop a crush/falls in love with SJ, or 2) no matter how SJ treats him LBG regards him respectfully or coldly. I think Possibility 1 is more likely, since SY transmigrated into SQQ and we saw what happened with “Bunhe.”

Now, mind, for Possibility 1 to be more likely to happen, the SJ in PIDW will have to undergo a massive personality change/ a change of heart/ develop a good conscience and will need to clean up his image aka clear up the massive misunderstandings from PIDW canon (like him being mistaken as a pervert for Ning Yingying, visiting whorehouses, killing LQG, etc). It’ll be difficult though considering who Airplane has changed SJ into for his stallion harem novel (reading through SVSSS, my impression of PIDW besides it being the harem stallion novel is that it sounds similar to a “dog blood plot,” where audiences tune in to see how the villains are brought to justice). I literally have a line from TUT in a future chapter where SY says this about SJ since I will resurrect SJ and bring him into the story for closure:

People like Shen Qingqiu naturally had a set of deeply-rooted values. If one wanted to change them, it’d be easier to just have them reincarnate. (—TUT, ch???)

At his core, he’s a flawed man (which makes sense with the underlying cycle of abuse theory, considering his upbringing and backstory). He’s jealous and petty and prickly. His image is that of a proud and cold immortal. In Chinese terms, he’s the type of character archtype who I can see being àojiāo (definitely not canon characterization; this is just a stray thought that amuses me) in a romantic relationship.

LBH will have to recognize that^, or be in a position where he finds SJ’s caustic side endearing instead. He will also have to be extremely patient with him (although, since the joke in SVSSS is that LBH is an incurable M, it shouldn’t be that hard).

A fun thing about OG!SQQ is that he’s the cannon fodder scumbag villain of PIDW. He’s the reason LBG blackened from a white lotus. And, as you know, villains aka antagonists aka bad boys resonate strongly with people for a reason. That’s why we see a lot of Enemies to Lovers tropes, etc. It squicks me to use this phrase but “the allure of dating a ‘bad boy’ is strong.” SJ is that type of bad boy we could identify as a “fixer-upper project” (ugh, that phrase)—even with the red flags and warning signs—especially for those said to have a troubled past with rejecting neglectful parental figures/ family members/ friends and have have not outgrown their wish to convert that sort of person into a loving, accepting person. When we want something we can’t or shouldn’t have, our desire for it grows exponentially. In fanfiction this is a concept writers and readers can explore safely in a world of the imaginary.

From a Meta Perspective

Although, if we look at it meta-ly, the cold and proud and/or knowledgeable Shizun (teacher/ master) character who comes to know love and “is redeemed” by whomever is the love interest (typically a cute and quirky girl who may or may not have started off as naive to the innerworkings of the Cultivation World and therefore needs an established and mature mentor to guide them) is a very well-known archetype for a reason in Chinese fan culture.

Seeing a terrible person change their ways and try to become a better person because of the influence of the one they love is also a popular depiction for a reason.

It’s almost like gap moe. The crueler and aloof one starts out as (arrogance is a staple), the more impactful the shift is when we see such characters soften their edges.

The draw of the sacred master/disciple relationship is that it’s taboo, so I think it’s fair to say that such a relationship in fiction is a popular trope precisely because of this aspect. From a writer’s perspective, the main appeal is to show that there is someone out there who can cause this respectful figure to lose control (undergo emotional change) and go to great lengths to protect his/her precious person. That precious person also has to fall into the “not like other girls” trope (so they can show the ML a different world he would not have seen the beauty of before). On the other side, we look forward to the point of the story where the love interest has their “Oh” moment and realizes their admiration has somehow shifted into love and attraction over the course of events.

Other Romantic Possibilities

It’s very likely. I personally like the fanon headcanon where anyone with Heavenly Demon blood running through their veins feels a compulsion to “obsessively fixate on one person” (TLJ —> SXY, LBH —> SQQ). Personally I don’t recall if this was canon or fanon, but someone had written something about LBH imprinting on one person in his lifetime on the account of his demon nature. And I like that theory (I think it’s likely more fanon than anything but it’s an intriguing idea full of possibilities!).

For him to fixate romantically on one person, I personally don’t think the prerequisite is just by being kind to LBH (but it probably adds to the person’s appeal). There’s probably other factors that go into this to capture the male protagonist’s eye, such as him finding someone attractive (or passes his own personal standards) and/or having good chemistry with that person. So I could see him being into other Shizuns and whomever else. Personally I also think there is appeal in the unobtainable. It’s one thing to have someone’s affection (see LBG and his harem of 600 wives who definitely aren’t shy about giving him affection), but it’s another to know you’ve earned the affections of someone you really like and respect (especially if it’s someone thought to be unobtainable).

As long as the writer can provide a plausible justification for me to suspend disbelief and they set up events to justify it, I can swallow just about any ship possibility. It doesn’t necessarily have to be SJ’s type of personality. (For example, I read a very good fanfiction before where the writer paired Luo Binghe with Ming Fan. Ming Fan, people!!! And they actually pulled it off! What a madlad! Mind, it’s Shen Yuan who had transmigrated into MF in that premise, but the writer set up events that showed how these two characters came to bond and develop a deep friendship which inevitably had LBH developing a crush on his shixiong. I use this as an example because this is the type of unexpected (crack)ship, but because the writer did their work trying to make it seem plausible, we can only admire their hard work and effort at pulling it off.)

As the saying goes, there are plenty of fishes in the sea! As the protagonist, LBH/LBG can have many OTP possibilities with just about anyone as long as the writer can make it plausible. It’s all about the character development and the story/ central themes they wish to tell with the ship!

(Note, these really aren’t hot takes, lol. I’m just having fun answering to this casually from the perspective of a writer. Thank you for your Ask, anon!)

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littleeyesofpallas · 3 years

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You still havent talked about the "magic pants" properties of the Shuhakusho. Ayon tore half of Rangiku´s shuhakusho (alongside her torso) but after she was healed her robes were intact. After Ichigo almost fully hollowified trainning with the vizards the "shell" around Ichigo fell apart, but he had a new set of clothes under it, when the shell had formed under his original set. Are these just artistic concession for modesty or are the shinigami uniforms magic? (there you have an excuse to talk about Shutara again)

Yeah... I don't know that Kubo was ever consistent enough to draw any real conclusions about it, but for sure there are some examples of odd cases with the shihakushou we can look at.

For one, the first example of it we really get is pretty specific: Ichigo takes his original substitute powers from Rukia, and while he suits up, she's left in only the white underrobe. And when Ichigo gains his own powers in the shattering shaft, he's materialized his robes with no contact with Soul Society. It really seems like it's just a part of the powers. Originally Zangetsu himself was dressed in shihakusho as he was clearly meant to be the embodiment of Ichigo's shinigami powers. (It was only in later appearances that Kubo simplified his look into just the loose single white collar.)

But at the same time, Renji shows up in a casual nonuniform kimono, so it seems like Shinigami can just wear regular clothes; and that kind of thing shows up semi frequently during the SS arc. By itself doesn't mean much, but all I can really do here is build some kind of context... Yoruichi also doesn't wear a shihakusho very often, even in flashbacks, but also doesn't wield her zanpakutou, but also definite had one... but also never "lost" any of her shinigami powers.

Urahara sort of counts as well, although he's kind of(?) implied to be in a physical human/gigai form while on Earth --although he can still access and wield his zanpakutou that way... I guess originally Urahara was kind of excused as there was some implications that having been exiled included somehow stripping him of some form of his shinigami powers, although much later developments contradict that. Visored, I maintain, weren't meant to be proper shinigami in the first place, but humans with bootleg powers like Ichigo's, which would excuse them from not having uniforms originally... But if we count the later developments it does become weird that they can just remove their robes or put them back on and it doesn't seem to really mean anything or have any effects? Isshin also retains his uniform after 20 years, which isn't explicitly odd, but it just feels like another instance worth noting.

Like you mentioned there's the kinda vague nature of how healing does or doesn't work in relation to the robes. We frequently see people in bandages while receiving medical attention, and we're told that Ichigo's bankai's incorporation of the robes as part of it are unusual... But they do still seems to just regenerate along with healing at times. And there's the weird moment in the final arc where some of the Visored just put on shinigami robes, which again, isn't used to indicate anything really, but it feels like it should??

Anyway there's also other non-shihakusho that shinigami wear, usually the faceless underlings of non Gotei specific groups. But there's also the conspicuous parallel of the Arrancar uniform, which would seem kind of silly if the shinigami robes had a unique inimitable function that Aizen just opted to not bother with in favor of aesthetic... And again going back to shinigami who can just remove their uniforms with not apparent consequence, making it seem like the uniforms don't actually do anything... Aizen's own shinigami just swaps uniforms.

Oh and then there are a few weird times People either put on or take off their uniforms in ways you'd think wouldn't really work if they're metaphysically/spiritually linked to them and/or their powers at all? When Uryuu shoots Ikanzaka in his random pressurepoints and says he'll never be a shinigami again... His robes stay on. Orihime and Uryuu straight up steal the clothes off some 12th division unseated's backs. For all of like a flicker of a scene inbetween Ichigo fighting Byakuya and then everyone turning attention to Aizen, for some reason all the non shinigami invasion team has donned shihakusho???? Ikkaku fought Zaraki with a zanpakutou but didn't have a shihakusho on, which is odd. When Mayuri juices himself his robes don't go with him. When Komamura's werewolf form wears off though... his robes vanish along with his powers... Tousen's lover had a zanpakutou but died and was buried not in shinigami robes...

Again though, Shutara's thing is clearly clothes. If she contributed something to the foundations of soul society, it could only sensibly be the shihakusho, although that also implies shinigami existed before the uniforms. But if her contribution was a big deal, surely it must do something, right? And as fun as it is to pin all these disparate scraps onto the big crazy cork board to make a big conspiracy web out of, there's really just nothing here. Would definitely have been something nice to get any actual clarity on in the series. And it's a fun arena for fanfic and headcanon to try and iron out to be sure.

I dunno how I thought I was going to end this...

#bleach #bleach meta #i dont even know what else to tag this #i got to clip bits out of images #and line up blocks though #so im happy

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caffeine-and-melatonin · 3 years

Text

✨Bad Batch E14 Spoilers✨

Sooooo I'm about to say a whole lot of not very polite words......

AHHHHHHHHHH HOLY SHIT Y'ALL AHHHHHHHHHH

Let's have a look at my brain melting during this episode (there's a lot oops):

- Commando armor? Slicked back hair? HOLY FUCK GREGOR OMG THE BOY!!!!! WE ACTUALLY GET TO SEE THE BOY!!!!!! (wait hold up does this mean we might see Wolffe too? Not asking for a friend I'm asking for me)

- Eek this is giving me very much "Ahsoka being hunted by Trandoshans" vibes

- Hunter doing knife tricks....that's...well....AHHHHH

- Omg Omega trying to copy the little knife spins is so cute

- REX!!! HIM!!! MY FIRST LOVE!!! HE'S BACK AGAIN!!! YAY!!! Sweetheart that poncho is fantastic!

- Is he ok? IS REX OK??? WHY IS HE RUNNING???

- Here's the thing I love Gregor but like they were a bit too quick to go after him and they still haven't talked about Cross soooooo hmmm

- Ok I have a feeling we are gonna get some Echo character development in this episode. The way Echo looked at Hunter was what got him to cave in and agree to go rescue Gregor. He knows it's the right thing to do and it's so interesting to me that Echo seems to have the strongest sense of moral obligation (aside from Omega). I have a feeling like this might clash with Hunter being the leader and honestly I wanna see how they handle that as a team.

- Nothing would bring me more joy than to absolutely DECK Rampart on behalf of Cross, Howzer, and Eleni Syndulla

- speaking of cross....CROSS!!! YOU'RE HERE!!!

- Wait hold up are they leaving Kamino?

- Also what happens to all the cadets? Like they're little kids...I'm scared

- Ok imma have to go on a whole rant/info dump about Kaminoan history and society later so y'all have that to look forward to in the morning

- Awwww Echo talking about Rex makes me want to cry. He looks up to his older brother so much and it's honestly so sweet

- Hunter using his special abilities? Hunter using his special abilities!

- Omg its just gonna be Hunter, Tech, and Echo?! TECH AND ECHO CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT???

- Look at those boys go! Climbing up a whole ass mountain while I look at a flight of stairs and go "ewww why"

-Ok is it just me or does the whole bottomless pit style base with a lot of red accents gives off Empire but make it First Order Aesthetic...? Just me?

- Tech's eyes are just so ✨p r e t t y✨. That's all.

- STORMTROOPERS? ALREADY?

- OMG ECHO BRINGING UP SKAKO MINOR! AND THEN TALKING ABOUT HOW IF SOMEONE IS BEING HELD AGAINST THEIR WILL THEY HAVE TO GET THEM OUT! DID YOU SEE HUNTER'S REACTION???? EVEN WITHOUT SEEING HIS FACE YOU KNOW HE'S GOTTA BE THINKING ABOUT CROSS!!! LOOK AT HIS BODY LANGUAGE!!! AHHHHHHH

- "i'm thinkin'." whispers Wrecker mindfully.

- I don't know what it is, but i just love this shot:

- Concept: into the spiderverse but it's just clones jumping off elevators and somehow gracefully free climbing on the walls

- Commando armor is just soooooo cool!!!! Like seriously! Also the TK trooper armor is....interesting

- AHHHHHH GREGOR'S LITTLE VOICE CRACKS!!! HE'S ADORABLE!!!

- "That's CAPTAIN traitor."

- Gregor really do be out here holding up the standard that you have to be a special kind of pretty to be a Captain in the GAR

- Also can we talk about how absolutely jacked Gregor's arms are? Like sir no wonder you aren't wearing any armor on your arms! How would fit! Damn dude

- I miss 99 so much

- Boys using stun rounds. No (intentional) unalives. Good for them.

- Echo and Tech working together and having each other's backs makes me beyond happy

- SASSY TECH AND SASSY GREGOR

- Tech really does yell in all lower case doesn't he?

- NO GREGOR! DAMMIT DAVE STOP SHOOTING THE BOY!

-When I tell you I thought Tech was gonna get shot too.... my god I don't think I would be able to handle that in any capacity

- SPOILER WARNING FOR REBELS: Gregor talking about surviving getting shot hurts me. This hurts my feelings. It hurts my feelings a lot.

- Ok but Tech casually blowing up that air vent grate thing was hot. No I will not elaborate.

- also...ECHO FUCKING YEETED ALL THREE OF THEM AND THEN HIMSELF LIKE AT LEAST 10 FT IN THE AIR!

- Echo carrying Gregor through the air ducts reminds me so much of Rex carrying him on Sako Minor

- WAIT HOLY SHIT OMEGA IS FLYING THE SHIP BY HERSELF!!! LOOK AT HER GO!!! Tech has to be so proud of her. I just know he is.

- Gonky helping + increased theme music = ahhhhhhh yay!

- TECH BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE FUCKING SEXY FLIGHT MANEUVERS!!!!!!! My stars I love that man. I'm speechless. It's like almost 4am and I legitimately screeched

- Tech: *flying like a badass* Gregor: bitch what are you doing this is not the time nor place for this shit

- FUCK NOOOOOOO HUNTER!!!!!!! NOOOOOOO!!!!!!

- GONKY!!! AHHHHH

- How tf is Hunter still alive??? Like I'm not complaining but still

- HOLY FUCKING SHIT NOOOOO THIS IS NOT OK!!!!! OMEGA'S VOICE AND SHEER PANIC BREAKS MY HEART!!! TECH'S LOOK OF HOPELESSNESS!!!! AND HUNTER SOUNDING ABSOLUTELY DEFEATED!!!! FUCK I CAN'T HANDLE THIS RIGHT NOW!!!!

- Yo on top of all that Lama Su just got straight up unalived

-hunter in a jail cell......................CROSSHAIR

- Ok but until the very last second, that was the least scrunched up face I have ever seen Cross make. Like you too have lovely eyes it's a shame you're so grouchy all the time. ANYWAY thoughts on that face because my brain is very full rn

FINAL THOUGHTS

- I just love clones more than life itself. Look at the boys go. I love them. I wanna give them all hugs (in regards to Tech…I will not kiss and tell).

- Gregor has and always will be so precious. Love that quirky boy so much.

- WTF IS GOING ON WITH REX??????? I NEED ANSWERS!!!!!!!

- Echo played such a major role in this episode and honestly I'm so glad. I still think there is so much more room to grow his character, but at least it's something.

- Gonky being that bitch this episode 👑

- Not sure if you've noticed, but my soul is no longer attached to my physical form. Tech has it. Tech owns my soul. I am more than ok with this.

- The last 5 minutes really just did that didn't it? Like jeez bro that was a lot

- Cross? Breaks? Hunter? Out? And? They? Both? Escape? After? Having? An? Emotional? Reconciling? PLEASE???????????

Overall, while I did really like the Ryloth episodes, I honestly think this might be my new favorite episode.

The episode itself was well paced

The stakes felt rather high

Fantastic action

Echo played a main part in the storyline

Contributed to not only the plot of the show but added context for how Gregor and Rex meet up

Tech flying and looking hot while doing it...that's very important to the overall ranking

It was engaging and intense with one hell of a cliffhanger at the end

So yeah I really liked this episode! I'm super excited to see what happens next (omg there's only two episodes left oh no scary)!

#the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb #tbb spoilers #bad batch #bad batch spoilers

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lvlyhao · 4 years

Text

『wayv’s ideal type』

headcanons, WayV

A/N: i love yangyang. send tweet.

today’s theme is... um... none. no braincells for an aesthetic

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE GENDER NEUTRAL AAAA

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮𝓼: fluff (♡)...?

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: i think like 2 swear words and as usual, my tough love for the neos. don’t be offended.

word count: 1.6K

pairing: wayv members x reader (includes kun, ten, winwin, lucas, hendery, xiaojun, yangyang)

disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Kun

Kun, similarly to Taeil, would most likely fall for someone very mature and responsible. My dude is already the father of 7 children (I'm counting Chenle); the last thing he needs is one more.

Very closely related to that is what I think would be another of his priorities: whoever they are and however they are, they've got to get along with the rest of WayV—but it's even better if NCT as a whole likes them. As much as he'd love his s/o, I can't say that if it ever came down to choosing them or his members, he'd pick his partner. The guys are his family and a BIG part of his work, which takes over most of his life, so there's really no escaping it. Befriend the boys or bye-bye.

Once the boys approve of his crush, I think his interest would grow if they've got many pastimes or hobbies. I mean, c'mon, Kun can fly a plane on the same day as he sings his lungs out on Inkigayo and then goes home to cook some fancy-ass dinner. He doesn't need them to be on his level, though. Small, silly passions are the ones the loves the most. He'd listen to them talk about ANYTHING for like 3 hours straight, even if it's why their favourite type of constrictors are pythons. No, that is totally not about me. Shut up.

Ten

Y'all remember that one WayV live where a fan asks for dating advice? Yes, I'm taking a lot from it. If you've seen it, it's not hard to come to the conclusion that Ten likes honest and straightforward people. He values himself way too much to lose his time with someone who's playing games, making him chase them and things of the sort. It's simple, really. If you like him, great, he'll give you the stars if you ask, but if not, great too, he'll live.

I can see that either he'd get with a person as extra as him or someone on Jaehyun's level of unbothered. Not many options here. You either become his partner in crime and bring hell on Earth with him, or you accept it well. Just don't be judgy or ask him to tone it down. That's the way he is, so why should he, you know?

Speaking of that, AUTHENTICITY, FOLKS. Being authentic is a big deal here. Ten is very true to himself and is always encouraging us to be, as well. Anyone he even considers dating will be nothing short of unique and unapologetically so. Being confident is just so attractive for him, I can't even—and yes, even if they're a bit strange. His partner might be a weirdo, but they're HIS weirdo, and he'll fight anyone that disagrees.

Winwin

I think while other members might fall for someone as bright as the Sun, he'd love a person as calming as the Moon. You know that aesthetic? The gentleness, introspectiveness, wisdom, the tranquillity... yeah, fam. That's it for my boy Winwin.

Allow me to elaborate: all of those traits would make him very comfortable with the thought of being in a relationship. I can see Sicheng as having some trust issues, aside from not being very touchy or loud when it comes to affection. Having that peaceful aura would really help him grow closer to his partner because he knows they'll be patient with him and respect his boundaries.

He wouldn't mind if they're more on the talkative side, but he needs a person that can appreciate silence too. Something I see a lot for him is having loud thoughts that are hard to get rid of. Dating him would mean having nights when he's tired out of his mind and just doesn't have the strength to talk. His partner will have to understand that and stay by his side until his inner world is a bit less chaotic, just holding his hand and letting him take his time. I think allowing him to have his space and peace in the relationship is how he feels loved the most.

Lucas

Yukhei would not mind one bit having a more childish, carefree partner. He's a big baby, c'mon, being around another baby would probably make him the happiest. I also think he meant it when he said he doesn't care about age (that one V-Live from years ago). Younger than him, older than him, my boy doesn't give a fuck. He really just wants someone to be silly with and smile a lot.

Having said that, I really can't see anything pushing him away from getting to know someone. Lucas is very lighthearted and loves people, so I think he'd have his fun getting to know anyone—and tbh, he would be hooked if they're a bit mysterious too. His interest would probably get the best of him, and he wouldn't stop whining about it to the other boys until he learns something about them. Very random, yes, but I can 100% see him complaining to WayV during dinner, LMAO.

One thing he wouldn't enjoy too much? A partner that can't take compliments or doesn't like being spoiled. Yukhei's affection is LOUD, and he really thrives off praise, cute pet names and giving gifts. He'd most likely be heartbroken if he finds out they don't like any of it, almost like they're shutting down his love itself.

Xiaojun

Ah, my dear Dejun. The middle child of WayV. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, just look up "Xiaojun's middle child problems" on YouTube and go from there. If you don't feel like it, lemme break it down to you: he's an angel, but the boys mostly accuse him of everything and anything and will throw him under the bus for fun. It's very entertaining. At this point, my boy doesn't have a fight or flight response; more like fight or fight (shhhh, I'll get into the headcanon now).

I think since he's used to being so defensive around his members, he'd appreciate a person that makes him feel both understood and safe. They'd share similar tastes (mint-choco ice cream, cough cough) and interests, but they'd most likely have a fiercer presence than him. Kind of intimidating, tbh. Very nice. I can definitely see that his partner wouldn't let WayV's chaos get to them and would, undoubtedly, be as much of a savage as the boys are.

He'd probably like it if they (playfully) fight his members and defend him from whatever-the-fuck they're blaming him for atm, so, yes, a bit protective. I think Dejun would simply find it cute and admirable, you know, their braveness. Would 10/10 brag about it when they're alone.

Hendery

Kunhang is the ultimate crackhead, but a sweet one at that. Being a Libra (yes, I'm going there), I think he can actually be very sentimental around the people he trusts the most and needs to feel like he belongs. That leads me to point 1: his partner would also be a crackhead. That's REALLY not up for debate. Kunhang wouldn't even think about dating someone that's not as much of a weirdo as he is.

Point 2: he probably wouldn't like to be with a person that's too vain or superficial, whether that goes towards others or themselves. He's said before he hopes the fans can see him as more than a pretty face, and I can imagine that goes for his s/o too. He'd simply not feel connected to someone who's always dolled up or dressed to impress. Would definitely prefer a more casual style and personality.

I guess point 3 is kinda random, but it makes sense to me, so here we go. Kunhang would really like someone who's just in love with human nature. For him, it's the tiniest things: the way they laugh, how they drink their tea, which side of the bed they'd prefer... it all adds up to a person, and I think he'd feel over the Moon to be with someone who sees the same things as him. Comment on a small habit of his he thinks no one else would notice, and I swear he's yours.

Yangyang

He is a spoiled brat, and I say that with all the love in the world. We've all heard WayV say how he basically tries to exploit them (mainly Hyung-line) at every opportunity he gets, which makes me think Yangyang might be a bit lazy, yes, but also that he'd do great with someone whose love language is acts of service.

Now, I'm not saying he'd tyrannize them or anything of the sort, but things would work very well if that is how his partner expresses their love. They wouldn't mind fetching him a drink, cooking something—or ordering out, if they can't... you know, stuff like that. It would make him feel very validated and cared for. I see that, for him, that's the ultimate type of devotion.

The last thing I can imagine he'd consider is whether they can take his teasing and antics or not. Yangyang's affection is really not shown through super heartfelt, sugar-coated moments; quite the opposite, actually. If he feels happy around someone, his way of showing it is that playful banter, insults and teasing, you know? He really wouldn't know what to do if the person takes everything he says to heart, like—Yangyang.exe has stopped working. So, yeah. A thick skin and elastic heart are a great combo for my boy.

Bonus: he'd lowkey cry if they get super hyped with his work as an artist. PLEASE praise his dancing, rapping, visuals and all. I don't think many people do, and even if he denies it, the compliments make him all fuzzy inside. #appreciateyangyang2021, he's underrated af.

---

final notes: head empty, no thoughts, just 90′s love yangyang

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algernoninwonderland · 4 years

Text

Miraculous, intertextuality and why referencing other works all the time isn’t necessarily a great idea

TL;DR: Miraculous loves itself some pop culture references, they’re in the show all the time for you to enjoy, especially if you’re a big nerd.

Only, making a list of references and trying to replicate what other works did before yours doesn’t make your show good by association, and when it comes to Miraculous, these references seldom do these original works justice. Instead, it makes comparing these other works with Miraculous really easy, and the comparison is rarely flattering.

Miraculous would be a much better show if it tried to be its own thing, a few scenes are just that and they are great. It’d be a wonderful show were they not so few and far between.

Miraculous is made by nerds, as is the case with most cartoons. The show itself lets you know that right away. It’s a pastiche of magical girl anime and Silver Age comics, it uses a lot of their visual languages, and references its other inspirations a lot, for instance:

The name of its fictional locations, (Françoise Dupont is a regular kid with a masked detective alter ego named Fantomette, Marinette’s address is a reference to a French illustrator who often drew a talking ladybird)

The way its characters look (Master Fu is both Mr Miyagi from the Karate Kid and Muten Roshi from Dragon Ball, when akumatised, Mme Couffaine becomes basically Captain Harlock and her houseboat becomes the Arcadia)

Sometimes entire scenes are references to other works (Aurore’s akumatisation is straight out of Utena’s Dark Rose Saga, “Gorizilla” has a King Kong pastiche).

You could fill an entire Wiki with all the references in Miraculous if you wanted to. If you paid me well, I’d do it myself.

Wearing your inspirations on your sleeves is a double-edged sword, really.

On the one hand, you showcase the things that inspired your creative process, a way to say, “hey, that show/film/book exists within a landscape, it’s the heir to such and such work”. You acknowledge that you owe a lot to your predecessors, you acknowledge that there’s no such thing as a 100% original thing. That’s a great act of humility.

And intertextuality conveys meaning, too! Let’s take a very mainstream example. When you notice that ha! The pod-racing scene in Phantom Menace comes from the 1959 movie Ben-Hur for instance, you get the sense that you understand the cinematic masterpiece that is Episode 1 a bit more. It tells you that your movie about space wizards owes a lot to other genres, and that it transposes these genres to another setting, space! “It’s Ben-Hur, in that that slave kid is pod-racing for his freedom, but I gave it my own spin,” George Lucas tells you. “Look, the funny Gungan stepped into that space cow’s poop! Haha, sure hope I’ll sell lots of toys and buy myself some death sticks!”

You feel really smart when you get a reference, too! “Hey, that’s a Dezaki effect right there!” “Wow, is that a robot from Castle in the Sky in Age of Ultron?” Likewise, if you don’t recognise the work being referred to, you might get curious about it! References send back to other things and your knowledge of these things and when you get it, it feels nice. Lots of people discovered Utena thanks to Steven Universe and that’s really cool, and these references add to the meaning of the cartoon! Folks who casually got into RWBY but didn’t know Soul Eater and Cowboy Bebop heard about those shows and many others while discussing RWBY and I’m sure lots of them got into anime thanks to RWBY!

On the other hand, by being so open about your sources of inspiration, you expose yourself to criticism, especially in the case of your work being compared with what inspired it: it might be seen as derivative, or even worse, unable to do these previous pieces of media justice by only retaining and replicating their most superficial elements without a great understanding of what made them work, gratuitous fanservice for nerds.

And I’m not quite sure where Miraculous stands. Oftentimes, it feels more like a Spider-Man/Kamen Rider crossover with bits of outdated shoujo manga and superficial wuxia sprinkled in there than a show at least trying to be its own thing.

And the problem is, Sailor Moon is better at being Sailor Moon than Miraculous could ever be, as it uses its visual language better, and it has a tiny thing called “the main character having a group of friends who aren’t props and a plot you can follow” that is the very reason why people liked the manga and anime in the first place. Miraculous only retains the very superficial aspects of the manga/anime and of the genre. Marinette still trips over a cat in the opening. Because that’s how it happens in Sailor Moon. Her characterisation as a civilian screams “Usagi Tsukino but more stressed out”.

Spider-Man is better at splash pages than Miraculous because ML’s CGI is pretty meh when it’s not in motion, these weird filter effects don’t look great, that only works when you’re Into the Spiderverse and have comic-book aesthetics. Queen Wasp has a whole sequence that is just that scene in Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 2 only this time Queen Bee sabotaged a metro on purpose to stop it. It’s not an awful scene, it carries its point across rather well (Chloé is a selfish nerd who thinks she can be like these comic book characters but truly isn’t fit to be a hero) but the original did it better, it was more impressive, there was more tension to that original scene, some really interesting camera and foley work that made you feel the weight of that train. It didn’t feel cheap the way that scene in “Queen Wasp” did.

Utena’s Black Rose Saga explores the psyche of some of its secondary characters the audience is already familiar with, with problems we could already identify within them. It offers an examination of the storyworld from another point of view, and helps build it further. There’s always a proper buildup before these characters have a mental breakdown in an moody elevator with a butterfly pinned on the wall that turns back into a chrysalis, because the characters are going through a kind of regression that makes them easier to manipulate and turn into “villains” while acting out their true desires in a twisted way. “Stormy Weather” has most of that, an elevator with dramatic lighting, a butterfly and a mental breakdown, but the character is all new to us so it’s just not that impactful. Often, that one secondary character who’ll get transformed has had spoken lines, yes, but that’s only minutes before they get akumatised.

“Kinda the same but a bit worse and missing some of the key aspects of what made the original thing so good” isn’t much of a tribute, is it?

In an earlier post, I stated that Animaestro was basically “I have watched a lot of animated shows and I know how to mimic them, the episode”. It told us nothing about animation as a medium except that it’s cool sometimes and that you get to imitate other people who are much better at the things they do than you are.

It’s not a clever metacommentary, it’s just “me likey moving pictures”. Good for you, I guess… Did you really need an entire episode to make that point?

And then you’ve got all the bad outdated shoujo tropes with characters falling on top of each other, aggressive flirting (harassment, really) from Adrien portrayed as really sweet and romantic because it’s just like in the shoujo manga (which one?) you see… And that’s just not great, is it?

Miraculous is a much better cartoon when it doesn’t try (and fail) to emulate other shows and movies and comic books and manga. The only thing it tells us about these works is that That Guy and co really like them and that copy-pasting them is the best way they’ve found to show their love. Imitation and flattery and all of that I guess.

“Look, it’s like in that scene in the anime! Did you like the anime? It sure was a good anime, and if our show makes you think about it, then it’s also good, right?”

No, you guys, I’m sorry but no. If making references was all it took to be good, then gaming webcomics would be regarded as masterpieces.

Very often, the show seems interested in being anything but itself. And it’s a shame, because there are lots of ideas the show kind of brings up but never quite touches. Marinette is interested in fashion design? That’s great, show us more of that! Make it an important part of her character, and by the same occasion, make her creations look not-laughable. Miraculous could be the first cartoon to explore what it’s like to be a biracial kid with a Chinese parent in France (would that work with a crew of almost strictly middle-aged white men is another question to which the answer is a resounding “no”). The show is set in Paris? Cool, how about exploring the city outside of its landmarks every tourist and their mom already knows?

Inexplicably, in the middle of an episode when you expect it the least, you get brilliant bits of directing that aren’t references to other works. Alya becoming Rena Rouge and her first steps as a superhero? Brilliant, really immersive, loved it, not a reference. The sad car scene in Puppeteer 2? It’s really really good, not a reference either. All the unexplored lore? It seemed really promising and having more of it would help us understand things a bit more!

People don’t just like your show because it reminds them of another show. Why watch it if you can watch that original work in the first place?

Trying to make a superficial mashup of all things you think are great in other works is not the way to do these works justice, nor is it the way to make your show interesting, let alone good.

#miraculous #ml salt #ml writers salt #ml critical #ml analysis #longpost #rwby #star wars #spider-man #adrien salt

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rpbetter · 3 years

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Thanks for your thoughts. Nope, I don't have another problem with the psa. It's the subtle word choice pretty much, but nothing else. I don't mind if people use me as a meme farm, so when I see psas like that or comments like that, I get upset because I associate it with people who make other blanket assumptions about all rpers, I have it linked in my head with people going around saying "rp is a hobby not a jobby" and making other assumptions about how all rpers do their thing.

Thank you for answering those questions!

The assumptive quality of the RPC can seriously be annoying as hell, especially if you're in the minority on any particular issue. When that's the case, the PSAs are so rarely geared toward you and any issues you might be experiencing that it's legitimately upsetting. I absolutely feel you on that!

I mean, obviously. Obviously lol I do. It couldn't be much clearer that I have a serious issue with the constant bombardment of PSAs insisting that we normalize shitty behaviors that are the damn norm, that we're all just losers RPing on tumblr so no one should be anxious about anything ever (instead of, you know, maybe trying to legitimately boost people's confidence, radical thought), or that anything that isn't being hostile to oneself is being hostile to everyone else.

I think the issue is that, while there is obviously a majority set of takes/issues/experiences (though, those, too, absolutely can skew toward one's particular RP corner and style), there's no way to address every instance and variable of an issue. Particularly not when anything other one paragraph is too lengthy for a lot of people here to engage with in a meaningful way.

So, I know I have to frequently ask, "is this a legitimate or hostile sort of blank-statement, or is it just addressing the majority experience? If it's the latter, is it genuinely enough of a problem to address?"

Like, did they mean that this is an experience most RPers have, or did they mean this is the only experience/is the correct and only way to do things? And that's not always answerable, of course, but when I feel like it is, it's usually found on OP's blog and RPC itself.

If OP has expressed things that are not the majority experience, expressed that they do not agree with blanket-statements, and doesn't imply with every rule, PSA, point on the DNI, and so on that to approach and proceed with RP in a way they do not is to commit some manner of terrible IRL crime? It's almost certainly that they were just expressing a majority experience and nothing more.

And in this case, yeah, as I'm sure you've noticed from being on the opposite side of this, it is the majority experience. I don't recall ever seeing very many RPers who do not espouse having an issue with having their memes and aesthetics reblogged without some manner of (rules specified if they're not a dick) interaction/relationship with the other mun. (Such as "mutuals are okay to reblog" or "I expect reblog karma and practice it.")

I don't know if there has been an influx of newer RPers or those who have migrated from more relaxed areas of the RPC, but recently, there really has been an increase in at least my corners of muns being used as resource blogs when they do not wish to be. They've all expressed in their rules their particular boundaries for that, have made overall posts politely but firmly asking that people who do not write with them and haven't even read their rules not do this, and have gone directly to the worst offenders to ask them to stop. And it continues to happen. So, I imagine that is why you might be seeing an influx of PSAs about the matter in response.

For anyone watching this conversation that might not understand why some muns are so against this, some reasons are:

clogging up their notifications

the aesthetic was their picture, edit, quote, etc. and not meant to be shared off their blog/only by the partner(s) tagged in it

when you reblog from someone, their URL is obviously attached, spreading them to another dash full of people - they might like you, but not want some of your mutuals following to their blog

their muse doesn't get much interaction, but other muns keep reblogging memes/aesthetics from them when they won't write with them or send anything in

they feel used for the above reason or any variety of other reasons

I'm really sure you know that, Anon, but I think it's important that we all understand where we're coming from because there are so many different preferences and experiences. It's really not good enough to just feel like everyone can do whatever they want, so long as it isn't harassing anyone else/they're being respectful of others. Because can feel that way all we want to while still getting upset when we lack the understanding of preferences that are extremely different, or even in opposition to our own.

We can't effectively respect each other without that sort of understanding of even the things that annoy us, you know? So, I try to promote that understanding and explain things for people who might simply see this on their dash.

Like the "hobby not jobby" thing! I don't get that, I think it has some concerning IRL connotations people are not recognizing, and it's a great way to treat other muns like shit while justifying the behavior. It's in opposition to what I do not because it exists, but rather, because it is weaponized in order to excuse bad behavior and vilify muns who do not engage with the hobby in this way. It doesn't have to exist in hostile opposition to how I enjoy RP, the use of it has made it this way, is what I'm saying.

But I understand where it came from and what it means for the more rational, adult muns here who feel this way. To them, it's just that this is an ultra casual hobby. The way I engage with RP is like a full contact sport lol it requires a lot of effort and engagement, and the effort and engagement is fun. They way they engage with RP is an act of disengaging, it is more like what watching TV is for me - they're just here for some light, quick entertainment.

Understanding this difference is understanding that not everyone who feels so casually about RP is a jackass insisting that everyone else better feel the same way, that their way is the only correct and good way. I'm still not interested in writing with them, it's far too different for that to work out, but it allows for delineating who is enjoyable on my dash/OOC that is into casual RP and who needs to stay behind a block somewhere because they think anyone who has RP as a primary hobby is trying to ruin it for them somehow, attacking them by existing, and the following list of terrible things as a person.

I think that all problems in the RPC could be drastically mitigated by a combination of understanding and mutual respect. People who are alright with others treating them like a meme resource absolutely can and should interact with people who don't feel that way without a problem, for example - all that takes is being aware of your mutual's rules and respecting them.

Damn near 100% of the PSAs out there honestly should not ever have to exist, they come down to the same factors of just exercising some easy respect for each other.

Again, the trouble often comes in at those very differing factors we need to be mindful of. When we feel like the weird one out in the RPC constantly, whether something is actually othering us or not, it starts to feel like it is. We start finding reasons and evidence, and much of the time, at least among those whose first inclination isn't to label OP as various terrible shit as a person, that takes the form of "not everyone."

Well, of course, not everyone! But unfortunately, when we are of the minority opinion/experience, we sometimes have to just realize that very thing. It isn't personal, and that while someone has caused issues coming from this side with that difference, we are not for our mutuals, so this isn't about us. We're actually doing the thing the PSA is speaking of by not pushing our preferences on others. If that PSA is just speaking from a place of the majority experience and nothing more, we're just annoyed with it for that reason and nothing else when it comes right down to it. We're just kind of sick of being in the minority opinion on this issue, and now are geared to feel like we're being hounded by most PSAs.

It's not an easy thing to get over or work with, it's not even something that gets to be faultless, but it definitely makes the experience less irritating when we can get to a point of stepping back and analyzing the situation without those emotions intensely in play. Seriously, if I allowed the issues I have with most PSAs out there to be evident by reblogging them with refutations or anger? That's all I'd spend my time doing, that'd be my hobby and not actual RP...and I'd absolutely be the most hated and blocked mun on tumblr in short order no matter how valid my points were. (And, I think, with good reason, I really do not support reblogging that sort of thing with negative commentary.)

What helps? Make your own positive PSA about your experience! Make one of those "reblog if" posts, I have never seen one that says "reblog if...you are alright with your mutuals reblogging memes and aesthetics from you without reblog karma."

I'm being dead serious, I encourage you to do that! It's great when you're of the minority opinion and do something like that because you can literally see not only that you're not alone at all but also that it's made other people feel seen. If you do that, let me know, I'll reblog it, even.

#answered #anonymous #post and ask replies #mun interaction #reblog etiquette #rp problems #tumblr rpc

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ambitionsource · 4 years

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AMBITION Season 3 ♫ “The Beginning of the Rest of Your Life” [ 3.01 ]

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

OUR LAST SUMMER – The Adams gang takes advantage of the final week of summer, while Charlie begins his senior year at Haverford Prep. Zay wraps up his run in West Side Story. Dylan and Asher pay Isadora a visit, and Farkle gets help from an unlikely source.

60 Minutes (23K words) || No content warnings apply.

[ ← The Sun Will Rise ] [ S3 Synopsis ] [ Almost There → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

Riley’s newest accommodations are about the same as we last left them, two beds still arranged in the space. The reminder of why there’s two appears when MAYA HART reenters the space, fresh out of the shower and wrapped up in a plush baby pink towel. She’s starting her day right, bright and early, going through her usual glam routine even in the summer.

She pauses to look at Riley’s bed, unmade and empty. In fact, it looks like it hasn’t been touched since the previous morning. Next to it, the window is open, letting in the summer breeze.

Maya makes a face, tsking with a shake of her head. Well, this can only end well. Then she shrugs, spinning to her side of the room. She places her phone down on the vanity and scrolls to a playlist titled “Mama’s Favorites.” With the press of a button, music fills the room, and so does that energetic spirit of AMBITION.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “All Summer Long” as performed by Kid Rock || Performed by Maya Hart (feat. AAA Seniors)

The rollicking old-fashioned rock tune injects a rhythm into the otherwise quiet morning, giving Maya something to groove to as she moves around getting ready. She sings along to the music, taking over the vocals for the most part.

She moves over to the wall where her future moodboard is hanging up, right above a year calendar. It’s August, though obviously the summer month is nearing its end. Maya scratches out the current day, Monday, leaving us to linger on the details scribbled onto the following Monday as she dances away. The 31st. Last day of August, and for them, the last day of summer.

Next to a bright red star sticker, a few simple words. “Last First Day @ AAA.”

EXT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY

The protective rolling door springs up as the Orlando community center opens for the day, DYLAN ORLANDO the one opening the place up that morning. He squints out at the sunshine, then grins, smile bright enough to rival the sun.

INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY

Dylan continues setting up for the day as he slides around, earbuds in his ears and six-string strapped on his back. He’s grown an inch or so over the summer, and his hair is a little longer, though just as windswept and fluffy as usual. Subtle changes, really, but the kind of stuff you notice after a whole hiatus apart.

On the counter, his phone vibrates with a reminder: “Open CC.” Underneath that, we can see texts from Asher.

INT. RILEY’S CAR - DAY

Another phone vibrates on the floor in the backseat of Riley’s sedan. It’s resting against a scrunched up string bag, lighting up with a call from “Dad.” When it goes to voicemail, we see this is not the first call that’s been missed -- in fact, there’s been about six since 8:30AM. Behind all those notifications, we can just make out a lock screen image of Riley, Isadora, and Lucas.

It’s no surprise who is missing all those calls. The last of the vibrations from the call rouse RILEY MATTHEWS, stretched on the backseat where she dozed off. She’s sharing the cramped space with LUCAS JAMES FRIAR, shirtless (there’s an AAA first for the history books) and seemingly unopposed to being half-used as a pillow.

He’s still sound asleep, no stranger to resting in weird places. As Riley wakes up, she takes a long moment to look at him, a dreamy, fond smile drifting across her face. She doesn’t even notice what’s off about the situation, perfectly happy to see him first thing in the morning… until her phone starts buzzing again.

Then, she remembers real quick. Her eyes widen, glancing around and realizing where she is, who she’s with, and the fact that there’s sunlight streaming through the windows. Last she recalls, it was night. She shoots upright.

Riley, harshly: Shit!

She scrambles to grab her phone, repeating the curse. She nudges Lucas to get up, starting to gather her things together. The movement is what actually wakes him up, but his T-shirt getting tossed in his face is what informs him the situation must be urgent.

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - DAY

JACK HUNTER is having a far less stressful morning, already up and ready to go. He’s dressed casually in a T-shirt and jeans, but he grabs his briefcase as he heads out the door.

INT. JACK’S CAR - APARTMENT GARAGE - DAY

It’s not until he makes it to his car that his morning takes a turn for the worse. Jack turns his key in the ignition and… nothing. He tries again, and gets nothing but a complaining growl of the engine.

Jack: Oh, you’re kidding me…

He tries again, but no. His trusty old car has called it quits. Jack curses under his breath, grabbing his bag and clambering out of the car.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Jack is jogging down the street towards the closest Subway station. He passes by an Off-Broadway theater venue as he goes, our attention shifting to the exterior of it. Outside the theater, a poster of their current production is proudly displayed. West Side Story.

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Contrasting to the bright summer sunshine, the interior of the theater is softer lit, more inviting to the eyes. It’s a well-kept space, obviously a venue that takes itself seriously.

On the stage, performers are stretching and mingling before their cast warm-up, amongst them ZAY BABINEAUX. He’s the youngest by a long shot, but he seems to fit in seamlessly with the rest of them as if he’s a seasoned professional. He cracks jokes with some of his co-stars as he joins them by the orchestra pit, confident and warmly received.

He’s totally in his element. For a moment, it might be easy to forget he’s still a teenager. He shifts into work mode when the DIRECTOR joins them on stage and beckons them together for notes and vocal warm-ups.

She leads them in a quick grounding exercise, encouraging them all to take a deep breath. As they inhale…

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

FARKLE MINKUS is also taking a deep breath, though something about the moment seems… off. It isn’t until the screen starts tilting, flipping us right-side up, that it’s clear Farkle is upside down. He’s reclined on his bed, head hanging off the edge as he finishes a breathing meditation exercise guided by his phone.

The moment it ends, he pulls himself back upright. He’s dressed comfortably, but sharper than most of last year, finally approaching a happy medium between the extremes of his personality. His hair has grown back from its buzzcut, closer to the coiff it once was.

He climbs off the bed, heading to his window and drawing back the curtains. Sunlight floods the room, presenting a stark contrast to his state this time last year.

INT. SVORSKI’S COFFEE - DAY

ERIC MATTHEWS is also enjoying the sunshine, soaking it up with a content smile as he waits in line at the local coffee shop. When it’s his turn and he approaches the counter, the barista asks him if he wants “the usual.” He nods, gracing her with a smile and then moving to the area to wait for his order.

While there, he crafts a text on his phone. It’s to Isadora, checking in on her and giving her a list of small reminders for when she wakes up -- brush her teeth, change her clothes, find something to eat, even if it’s small. He also notes that he’ll be back before dinner.

Their message thread seems to be pretty one-sided. Isadora’s answers are sparse, and when she does they’re usually one word. But Eric doesn’t seem perturbed by it.

Once his order is ready and he goes to retrieve it, we see that his “usual” is two coffees. That seems like an awful lot of caffeine to be drinking alone, Eric… he gives the crew at Svorski’s a cheerful wave goodbye, heading out.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

Maya is further in her glam routine, still owning the song and dancing around the room as she goes. Make-up, hair, the works. She’s wearing a sheer off-white robe over her camisole and shorts, more for the aesthetic than any sort of cover-up -- Sharpay Evans and Cher Horowitz would be proud. The montage continues to cut to her intermittently through the remainder of the song.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Unlike Eric and Jack, not everyone is dressed casually this Monday morning. Quick close shots show the careful process of getting an outfit together -- tightening a striped blue tie, adjusting cuffs, pulling on a deep navy blue blazer.

As we pan up, CHARLIE GARDNER finishes piecing together his Haverford uniform. He looks markedly different from when we last saw him, hair cut much shorter than it was at the end of junior year. He looks great in his uniform, sharp, clean-cut and well-groomed, but he doesn’t look confident in it. It’s more like the uniform is wearing him.

But he doesn’t have time to obsess over it. It’s his first day, and he wants to give himself plenty of time to get oriented. He grabs his bag off the bed with a change of clothes and a pair of dance sneakers. The rest of his dance duffle gets left behind, sitting forgotten by the wall with his guitar.

INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY

Dylan, however, has no shortage of guitar. He takes the guitar solo in the latter half of the song, shredding on his six-string and bopping around the community center.

INT. RILEY’S CAR - DAY

Riley pulls up at the curb to let Lucas out in a rush -- back in his shirt -- questioning if he has everything and passing his phone to him when he almost leaves it on the center console. He’s fully out of the car when she shouts for him to come back one more time.

Riley: Wait, wait, wait --

Lucas leans inside just long enough for Riley to stretch across the seat and give him a kiss. Then she sets him free, assuring him that she’ll catch up with him soon.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Lucas, still a little dazed, backs onto the sidewalk as Riley’s car speeds away. He watches her go, then shakes his head, trying to pull himself back together. He turns and heads inside where she’s dropped him off -- the beloved Chubbies, his new workplace.

INT. GARCIA HOME - ASHER’S BEDROOM - DAY

Another calendar comes into focus, though this one is far more cluttered with notes and reminders than Maya’s. Someone leans in to cross an “X” over the current day, and when we pull back we see a familiar bulletin board populated with photos, flyers, and note cards.

Though there are many new photos from the summer, the most notable is the creased but unfolded photo of Dylan, Lucas, and Asher, back in its rightful place pinned up. Next to it, there’s a pamphlet for a university, the Rochester Institute of Technology.

ASHER GARCIA steps back from the board, shifting his focus to his agenda laying open on the desk. He’s sporting a cute, patterned short-sleeve button down, a summer spin on his usual attire. He gathers up a couple of notebooks and folders for the school year, way ahead of the game in preparing for the school year.

He drops one set into his messenger bag, then puts the others into the backpack slouched against the wall next to it. Based on the Spongebob patch and doodles all over it, it’s no guess who the extra bag belongs to.

INT. ORLANDO COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY

Dylan continues his groovy guitar playing as the song crescendos into the final chorus.

EXT. AAA - DAY

Jack has finally made it to the familiar stomping grounds of Adams Academy for the Arts, jogging up the steps without hesitation.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

Maya similarly boogies around, now ready for the day.

EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - DAY

Charlie moves with more apprehension as he steps off the main street and onto Haverford’s campus, a spacious chunk of a block on the Upper East Side. The school boasts an open-air, modern architecture, a far cry from the classic structure of Adams. He has to move through the lawn and outdoor eating pavilions before he gets close to the building itself, other boys dressed in the sleek Haverford blue mingling around him.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie braves the plunge and approaches the tall glass doors, disappearing into the belly of the beast.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

As the song winds down, Riley clambers up the fire escape and back in through her bedroom window. She’s way too late, though, a fuming and frantic CORY MATTHEWS waiting for her return with his arms crossed. Behind him, Maya watches the scene with amusement.

Cory: Riley Erica Matthews!

Riley grimaces, halfway through the window. Busted.

Riley: Oh, shi --

Cue title sequence.

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s with great joy that I finally say: welcome back to AMBITION.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE - DAY

Charlie is seated in a posh oak chair opposite the desk of AARON JACKSON, who is leisurely leafing through his transfer paperwork. Despite their names, there is little in common between Principal Jackson and Principal Hunter of AAA. Whereas Jack always had an edge of grit, Aaron has a dignified, refined air about him -- the shine of a man who has always known privilege. His office feels the same, darker and more studious in appearance, reflecting the nature of the school.

Still, he’s not without warmth. He seems good-spirited as he gives Charlie a light smile, peering at him over his paperwork. Charlie manages to return it, trying his best not to appear as nervous as he is.

Aaron: Nice recommendations, good community service record. Excellent grades… do you think you may have been valedictorian at Adams?

Charlie: Oh, I don’t know. I had classmates a lot smarter than me in the A class.

Aaron hums, focusing back on the paperwork. Then he sets it on the desk, giving Charlie his full attention.

Aaron: I hope you don’t mind my asking, Mister Gardner, but I’m curious. It’s not often that we get transfers so late in their high school career, especially not from Adams Academy. To be frank, you’d find that a fair handful of your peers here at Haverford had Adams as their first choice when they applied, but didn’t make the cut.

The question goes without saying. What is he doing there, jumping schools, when he likely had it made in the shade at AAA? Charlie clears his throat, offering his practiced charming smile.

Charlie: I just thought that the change of pace might be good for me. Adams is great, of course, and I was sad to leave it. I’m going to miss… it will be an adjustment, for sure, but I’m sure I’ll find exactly the enrichment I need while at Haverford.

Well, hard to argue with that flattering assessment. Aaron doesn’t seem fully convinced, but he brushes it off easily. It’s not his business after all.

Aaron: Well, we’re happy to have you with us regardless. With your impressive record, and your dance ability, I have no doubt you’ll fit well within the ranks of the Haverford senior class.

With that, Aaron gets down to business, shifting to discussing his schedule and how things work at the school. Once they’re done going through the necessary orientation points, Aaron will make sure he gets to performance lab, and his classmates will take it from there.

Charlie maintains his pleasant smile as he’s handed his welcome packet and schedule, but it falters as he starts flipping through it.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Back in the brighter principal’s office, Jack is flurrying about trying to get things in order after his uneven start that morning. Eric appears in his doorway with a cheery greeting, passing off that second coffee to Jack as soon as he notices him and returns his hello. Jack takes the beverage gratefully, commenting that Eric always knows exactly what he needs.

Eric clearly takes pride in the comment, coming further into the room. He comments on Jack’s frazzled state, and Jack explains that his car decided to stop working this morning. As tragic as that news is, Eric doesn’t seem surprised.

Eric: Jack, you’ve been driving that dinosaur for like fifteen years, and it wasn’t new when you bought it. It was bound to crap out eventually.

Jack: William is a fighter, Eric. He wouldn’t just give up on me like that.

Eric rolls his eyes, reminding Jack that he’s way more theatrical than he lets on. He points out that things get old, and they die. It’s the circle of life. Life has a funny way of letting you know when things don’t work as they are anymore, when it’s time to move on.

Eric: I’m more surprised you walked all the way here.

Jack: Subway was running late.

Eric: Not my point. I would’ve given you a ride.

Jack: You’re coming from the opposite direction.

Eric: You know I don’t care about that. I would’ve picked you up.

From the tone of their banter, it’s clear that it wouldn’t be the first time Eric and Jack have carpooled this summer. Jack hesitates, meeting his gaze, before shrugging it off and directing them back to the task at hand. They’ve got a big week ahead, as they have to assess Adams for any damage and make sure everything is in sterling shape before the school year kicks off again.

This year, it matters more than ever. As Jack states, they’ll be having a new coworker join them this year from the school board as an administrative advisor, meant to observe how things are running after the turbulence of the Lucas and Bradford situation last year. So now, they really can’t afford to slip up.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Speaking of slip-ups, Riley reiterates the morning madness to Farkle and a tickled Maya, sitting in a booth at Chubbies. The divas are across from her while Lucas is seated next to her, arm casually draped around her shoulders as she relays Cory’s tirade and the resulting punishment: she’s basically forbidden from seeing Lucas for the rest of the week, at least until they go back to school and he can’t very well stop them.

Maya: So, like… hanging out at Chubbies?

Riley glances at Lucas, who raises an eyebrow. She clasps her hands together and shrugs, maintaining a tone of innocent sweetness.

Riley: Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Farkle: Wow. The summer of love really changed you.

Riley makes a face at him. Lucas claims Cory is going to get what he wants anyway, seeing as he can’t just sit around all day. As he starts to get up from the table his attire becomes clearer, dressed in a pale blue Chubbies t-shirt with an off-white apron tied around his waist. Riley tries to get him to stay, but she still helps him loop the top half of his apron around his neck.

Lucas: I gotta work.

Riley: Okay, okay… but I’ll see you later.

Lucas: Very daring of you.

The two of them exchange a quick kiss, Riley smiling as they pull apart. Maya scrunches her nose, playfully disgusted.

Maya: Ew.

As Lucas marches away, he points back to Maya offhandedly.

Lucas: I’m not serving you.

Maya scowls, holding her hands up in surrender to Riley and Farkle. Farkle laughs, shaking his head. Riley changes the subject, electing to focus on the positive. She claims that maybe the Lucas ban will be a good thing, as it’ll give her plenty of time to spend with her favorite friends in their last week of their last high school summer.

Farkle: Sounds lovely. But can’t.

As Farkle goes on to explain -- bitterly -- he has a million doctors appointments scheduled for the week as his parents are determined to make sure he’s in top shape to go back to school. This is following a whole summer of therapies and overattentiveness and mindfulness exercises -- which he hates, by the way.

Farkle: I’m supposed to have thoughts! If our brains weren’t meant to think, then we wouldn’t think.

Maya: Most people don’t.

Farkle: Point is, mindfulness is bullshit. It makes me feel crazy, and I’m already crazy. It’s just ironic that last year all I wanted was my parents’ attention, and now I can’t wait for them to leave me alone…

Maya: Grass is always greener, darling.

Riley seems disappointed she won’t see more of him this week, but she keeps her sights set on the future. She confirms that he’s still going to go to West Side Story on Saturday night. It’s Zay’s last performance in the production, and she wants to get as many of them there to support him as possible.

Farkle assures her he can manage that, then gets up to head off to his first appointment of the day. Without him, all that leaves for company… is Maya. She gives Riley a sharp smile, Riley laughing awkwardly and dipping her head down to avoid her gaze. Wow, suddenly, she just remembered a bunch of stuff she has to do…

Maya rolls her eyes, leaning across the table to nudge at her. She claims it’ll be a good thing for them to hang out -- they haven’t done very much roommate bonding since they were forced to share a space.

Riley: Something you specifically said you weren’t interested in when it happened…

Maya: Yes, well, times change. Speaking of, our room. That could use some change, don’t you think? I can’t live in the humdrummery any longer.

This doesn’t seem like the worst potential bonding activity, but Riley seems hesitant. She says they’d have to ask Cory, a task that is far less intimidating to Maya than her. There’s no harm in asking. Tentatively, Riley agrees, though Maya seems dissatisfied with her hesitant answer.

Maya: Sneaking around with your boyfriend you can do, but you can’t ask your dad to redecorate? God, you gotta grow like a minimal assertive streak. You’d think some of mine would’ve rubbed off on you by now.

Riley doesn’t know what to say to that, but Maya doesn’t give her the chance to respond. She leaps up to head out and Riley follows suit, only falling behind when she runs into Asher and Dylan at the entrance. They exchange bright greetings, Riley sharing a hug with Dylan before she jogs to catch up to Maya.

Asher and Dylan find Lucas at the counter.

Dylan: Lucas James Friar! [ slamming his hands on the countertop ] Do you have something for me?

Dylan narrows his eyes expectantly. Lucas matches his glare, deadpan, until he cracks with a huff. He rolls his eyes and reaches to grab a perfectly-made grilled cheese, sliding it across the counter at him. Dylan reacts in delight, Asher smiling at him as the two of them settle onto the stools at the counter. Asher asks how things are going, and Lucas gives them the short version of how his morning started.

Dylan: [ while eating his grilled cheese ] Oh, overnight? Scandalous.

Lucas: It was not. We fell asleep. We were sleeping.

Dylan: Mhm, mhm. For sure. Totally. I believe you…

Dylan winks. Lucas rolls his eyes again and Asher shakes his head, but he can’t help but smile. Lucas claims it’s for the best, as it frees him up to spend the rest of his week working. He was pretty heavily booked with shifts anyway.

Lucas: I’m this close to being able to pay you back for my wrist --

Asher: Something that you do not have to do, for the hundredth time.

Lucas: Then I’ll be able to start saving it for myself. What for, I don’t know, but it’ll be damn nice to have it.

Asher points out he could be saving the money for school, but Lucas quickly side steps that conversation. He shifts to discussing what their week looks like before school starts again, all of them coming back to the same talking point -- Isadora. None of them have seen her for the last month or so, and any time they try to reach out she says she’s not up for visitors.

Understandable, given she’s grieving, but it’s been a couple months and they’re worried about her. Not to mention school is coming back, and that’ll be harder if she’s totally out of practice when it comes to socializing. Lucas can’t be of much help due to his work schedule, but he points out that’s not much of a loss as he’s terrible at stuff like this. Honestly, usually he and Isadora just tend to make each other worse at low points.

Before they can problem-solve, their conversation is interrupted by JOE, the Chubbies manager, breezing past them. He’s a large, slovenly man with Santa-like salt-and-pepper facial hair and in a Chubbies shirt that seems perpetually grease-stained. But he’s a smart businessman and quite the character, respected and loved fondly by the patrons of the diner and a decent boss. In fact, some regulars have taken to calling him “Pappy Joe,” due to his sort of roughrider demeanor.

He greets the boys gruffly, obviously well-acquainted with Dylan and Asher after a summer of them hanging around to chat with Lucas. They ask him if he thinks they’re going to keep Lucas on as an employee past his summer trial run. Joe sizes Lucas up, squinting, before patting his shoulder bracingly.

Joe: Well, he didn’t rob us blind or burn down the shack -- accidentally or otherwise -- so I s’pose we can keep him around.

Asher grins, nudging Lucas’s forearm in cheeky congratulations. Dylan smiles as well, subtly nudging his free grilled cheese out of view of the burly manager.

Once Joe saunters off, they get back on topic. Asher states that he and Dylan will check in on Isadora -- they’ve got Dylan, the one person to whom Isadora can’t say no. Depending on how she seems to be doing, they’ll go from there.

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - BACKSTAGE - DAY

Zay opens the door from the atrium and emerges in the backstage hall, leading YINDRA AMINO and NIGEL CHEY on a tour of the theater. The two friends are starstruck, captivated by being around an actual production where the magic happens.

Zay is excitedly showing them around, pointing out fun facts and cool exclusive pieces like costumes and the props table. They exchange greetings and brief introductions with his castmates as they pass by, everyone friendly.

Once they end up in the wings and Yindra and Nigel marvel at the real bona fide Broadway set, Zay huddles closer and points towards the stage where a young man, dressed as Tony, is running through “Maria.” Zay tells them all about him and speaks highly of him, admiration in his tone.

Zay: He’s like a master. You’ve seen his rendition of “Something’s Coming.”

Nigel: Yeah, he was pretty good.

Zay: He’s great. And he’s a true professional, always on top of things, makes everyone else feel good and valued and welcome. I feel like I’ve watched his rehearsals so often I could do the part just by memory alone.

Yindra: Sounds like someone has a boy crush.

Zay rolls his eyes, elbowing her as they turn away. But his esteem doesn’t end there.

Zay: He’s exactly what I want to be, when I get there one day. Oh, and you know the craziest thing? He’s had a cold for the last week, but he still gets up and pushes through it every night to perform. And he sounds just as good! That’s showmanship to admire.

Maybe a little unhealthy, but then, I guess that’s show business. Nigel claims he’s glad he wasn’t sick when he saw it last month, or when he brought Jade to see it. Yindra agrees, though she jokingly claims no one could be better than their Zayby boy as she throws an arm around his shoulders and half-hugs him.

Nigel informs him that they’ll both be seeing it again that Saturday, and he thinks Jade is coming too. Riley is getting a whole bunch of them to come, she’s basically campaigning. Zay comments that sounds about right, considering it’s Riley. This leads them into a discussion about who from their class has come to see it already, Yindra and Nigel listing back and forth while Zay offers help here and there based on his knowledge.

When Charlie inevitably comes up, Zay grows quieter, losing some of his comfortable confidence. Yindra and Nigel don’t notice, too caught up in commentary about his whereabouts.

Nigel: I thought he did come. Didn’t he see it during opening week?

Yindra: That’s what Haley said was the plan, but then he didn’t show. Something about how his grandmother got ill so they had to drive up coast to see her.

Nigel: Really? I thought he said his grandmother was dead. Like two years ago.

Yindra: I mean, it’s exactly in line with how he’s been acting this summer. He has been so hard to get a hold of. I haven’t seen him at all.

This seems like the last thing Zay wants to talk about. He waits for a strategic lull in their complaints to change the subject, distracting them with offers to see the dressing rooms. They jump at the chance, leaving the conversation of their missing friend behind.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Your Love (Déjà Vu)” as performed by Glass Animals || Performed by Haverford Seniors

Charlie, meanwhile, is just beginning to explore Haverford. He slips into the auditorium from the back of the house, looking towards the stage where rehearsal is already in progress.

The Haverford seniors -- his new classmates -- are in the midst of a skillful rendition of the Glass Animals single. It pairs well with their signature strengths: layered harmonies, suave moves, synchronization. With the matching uniforms, only varied by whether the boys have elected to strip their blazers during rehearsal and whether they’ve rolled their sleeves, etc., it’s hard to differentiate any of them at first glance. They’re a perfect, polished machine of sonic harmony.

That is, except for their frontman. Carrying the brunt of the vocals front and center is BRANDON RIVAS, an especially debonair senior with slick confidence and obvious talent. We’ve seen him before, at the Jacobs gala and the students of color mixer. He’s got a charming, intriguing smirk and dark, glossy hair styled well enough to rival Asher.

Regardless of your feelings on them, the Haverford boys are mesmerizing to watch. The performance seems to slip by in no time flat, and before Charlie knows it they’re breaking to go freshen up before their next class. Brandon rattles off some general notes for them to work on before their next run-through, the rest of them giving him shoulder pats and farewells as they head off to the dressing rooms.

Suddenly, it’s just Charlie and Brandon. The latter half turns towards him, aware of his presence despite Charlie being well-hidden in shadow. He claims he can come up and join him now, no sense in staying in the dark. The direct address snaps Charlie out of his nerves, and he jogs up the steps to come meet him.

Brandon, smoothly: No need to be shy. This is your stage now too, isn’t it?

Maybe so. Charlie strides across the stage to stand in front of him, Brandon waiting casually with his hands in his pockets. He sizes him up as he approaches, looking him over, but for what it’s worth he doesn’t seem critical. He holds out a hand once he’s close enough.

Brandon: Brandon Rivas. Nice to finally officially meet you.

Charlie: Charlie. And thanks.

Brandon: I know who you are. I saw your audition, though I’m sure you don’t remember me. “I Can Do That” is a difficult number if you actually intend to show off any skill, and you managed it well. At least, after you tied your shoelaces. That, and I’d heard a bit about you through the grapevine.

Charlie clearly wants to know more about that, like who would even be talking about him, but Brandon doesn’t offer anything more. He changes the subject, stating that he’s essentially the eyes and ears of the senior class and the de facto leader, if there was one. They’re all equals at Haverford, make no mistake, but it’s helpful to have a figurehead of sorts. Someone to look to and maintain order.

Brandon: This will be helpful for you, of course, because you can ask me anything you might be wondering while you make your transition. I know just about everything there is to know. First, though, we should get you acquainted. Fancy a look around?

Charlie nods, grateful for the warm welcome. Brandon gestures for him to follow, leading him on the start of a grand tour of Haverford Prep from someone who actually knows the ins and outs day-to-day. Charlie keeps pace, not wanting to get left behind.

Jack, pre-lap: We need to do a full examination of the building.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Jack and Eric are making their way through the darkened school, the former leading the way while the latter takes notes on a clipboard. They’re inspecting for anything that seems out of date, not up to snuff, eager to make a perfect first impression for the incoming administrator.

Jack: I don’t want to give them any easy shots. If they want to criticize on baseless claims, then we’re going to make sure they have to dig deep.

Eric: Don’t think that should be too hard. The school itself is in great shape, and with the exception of the senior A class, the students have always done well. Even the A class is likely to be better after everything last year.

Jack: Yes, but when you’re looking for error --

Eric jogs to catch up to him, coming to head him off. He tucks the clipboard under his arm and takes Jack’s arms, gently stopping his relentless march and meeting his eyes.

Eric: You know this whole thing the board is doing is inane, right? You’re a good administrator. You’ve made mistakes, yes, but we all have. There is no such thing as perfect.

Jack: Very nice. Thank you for the affirmation, Hannah Montana.

Eric, sincerely: You do a good job, Jack. You love this school, and the students, and they appreciate you. They know it wouldn’t be the same without you.

Though it’s biased coming from his counselor, there’s actually quite a bit of weight to the statement coming from Eric. It means something, because for a long time Eric didn’t believe it. It means something, and it clearly means a lot to Jack.

Still, there might be other reasons he speaks so highly of him. Jack clears his throat, torn between holding his gaze and glancing anywhere else.

Jack: Some might say you’re biased. Especially given… the way we are. With each other.

Eric: … yeah? What exactly does that mean to you?

The air is suddenly a little bit thinner between them. It’s more than obvious as they hold eye contact that they both know they share something greater than coworkers. That they’re something more to one another. They know it, might have even discussed it, but evidently haven’t landed on anything definitive.

Jack ducks the question, shifting his gaze behind Eric. He comments that the curtains could probably afford to be replaced, or at least deep-cleaned. He effortlessly slips from Eric’s grasp and shifts back into work mode, leaving him to grapple with the uncertainty yet again.

Eric takes a deep breath, then follows after him with the clipboard. Still willing to march with him, even when he doesn’t know to what degree they’re tied together.

INT. DOCTOR’S OFFICE - DAY

Farkle is sitting up on the examination table, having just finished consulting with his primary care physician. JENNIFER MINKUS is with him, there for the analysis of Farkle’s current state and where they should go from here.

All in all, good news. The physician commends Farkle’s improved BMI and overall health, that he’s picked back up the weight he lost last year and his vitals seem to be reading more stable than they were in the spring. While improvements could still be made -- more rigorous exercise, for one -- he’s well on his way to being back in shape.

When the doctor starts getting into specifics about what changes could be made and Jennifer takes out her phone to take notes, Farkle zones out. Blah, blah, blah, he’s heard all of it before. He pulls out his phone as well, but not for notes. He opens his message thread with Isadora instead, crafting a text to check in on her.

He texts her about being at the doctor and what’s going on with her this week, but doesn’t get an immediate response. Even though their banter seems to be more consistent and varied than the messages with Eric, she’s gone off the radar a bit for him, too.

EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - DAY

Concluding their tour, Brandon shows Charlie what he states is one of his favorite locations on campus. It’s a balcony walkway that bridges the two wings of the school, joined under the angular solar-paneled glass ceilings. They approach the banister facing out towards the city, a gorgeous view of the campus below.

Charlie seems a bit overwhelmed after the tour. Brandon asks him what he thinks and he simply claims it’s a lot different than AAA. That goes without saying, given the vastly different architecture and student body, but there’s a loaded quality to the statement that goes deeper.

Brandon examines him, not giving anything away. It’s unclear if he’s empathizing or just trying to figure him out, but he assures Charlie that he’ll adjust to Haverford in no time. It’s the best school there is, after all, so there’s little chance he couldn’t.

Brandon: Thing about Haverford is that it’s tight. We’re a band of brothers, so we look out for each other. If you pull your weight, then the boys will be there when you need them. Even if you show up three years late.

Charlie: Oh, well, that’s reassuring.

Brandon: [ with a laugh ] I’m only saying, I don’t know why you’re here or why you decided to leave Adams, but the fact is you’re here now. You make the most of it, truly turn yourself over, then I have no doubt you’re going to thrive. You feel me?

All things considered, Charlie is grateful everyone seems to be so friendly. At least in completely cutting the cord from his former support system, he doesn’t have to drift through senior year alone. He offers a smile.

Charlie: Thanks. Seriously, that’s nice to hear.

Brandon returns the smile, though his is understandably more confident. He reaches out and gives Charlie a pat on the shoulder.

Brandon: Welcome to Haverford, Charlie. We’re happy to have you in the brotherhood.

Brandon leaves him be, heading back inside. Charlie hangs back, glancing out towards the city for a moment longer. Out towards the west side, where AAA sits preparing for a school year without him.

Then he backs off, straightening his tie as he follows Brandon inside.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Eric arrives home after a busy day, tired but still with plenty to do. He dumps his things on a table before making his way to Isadora’s bedroom, knocking on the door before peeking his head in.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isadora is lying on her unmade bed, wearing pajamas she never changed out of and staring blankly at her ceiling, where glow-in-the-dark stars have been stuck on. She doesn’t move upon Eric’s arrival. He asks her questions about how she’s doing, but gets no response to any of them. He sighs, used to this type of interaction between them.

Eric: I’m going to make some dinner. I’ll let you know when it’s ready, and you can either eat with me or in here. Whatever you want to do.

He watches her for a moment longer, concerned, but leaves her be when she turns onto her side, her back to him.

Once her door is shut again, Isadora takes a shaky breath. She sits up and grabs her phone, scrolling through the various notifications she has — Farkle and Eric’s texts, Maya sending her a post on Instagram, and a voice note from Dylan. She stares at the screen, inwardly battling between replying or ignoring. Ultimately, she throws the phone across her bed and flops onto her back, looking up at the stars on her ceiling once again.

As gentle piano fades in...

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “My Mistake” as performed by Gabrielle Aplin || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz

Isadora starts the song on her bed, getting up after the first verse to walk around her room. She lingers on various things she passes. There’s a photo collage in a frame on her desk, filled with pictures taken over the past three years with her friends, to whom she sings “I really want a conversation, but I let it slip away...”

On her bedside table is a solar system lamp that spins when she pushes it. One wall is covered in space-themed movie posters, her fingers brushing along E.T. on a bicycle in front of the moon, and an astronaut sat alone on a bench in Love.

Following the chorus, as she sings “I saw my friend today, he tried to comfort me,” Isadora leaves her bedroom and walks over to where Eric is cooking in the kitchen, but he’s unaware of her presence.

I don’t think I’ll ever change...

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

With the swell of the chorus, Isadora leaves the apartment, transitioning to the streets of New York, where she continues to go unnoticed. People pass through her as though she’s a ghost. She imagines various familiar faces passing her by. Lucas playfully rolls his eyes at Dylan, who has an arm thrown around Asher’s shoulders, animatedly talking about something. Riley and Zay stand in line at a pretzel stand, laughing together at a joke Zay is telling. Finally, Maya pulls Farkle towards a shop window with excitement, pointing out a mannequin dressed in a glamorous faux fur coat. Farkle walks away, and Maya chases after him with a grin.

Isadora arrives in an empty park, decorated with fairy lights that twinkle like stars. She belts out the final chorus before the twinkling lights transition to the stars on her ceiling...

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

And we’re back in her bedroom for the final soft “well, at least it was my mistake…”

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - DAY

Cory convenes with Riley and Maya, the two of them finishing up their dissertation on why they should be allowed to redecorate their room. Since they’re going to have to make this arrangement work for a while, he agrees that perhaps they could afford to spruce things up. He gives them a small sum to work with on the family credit card -- not as much as Maya was hoping for, but still something. Victory!

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

The girls immediately retreat to the bedroom to start planning, Maya pulling out some poster board from behind her dresser to start moodboarding. She sizes up the board, already trying to visualize it as Riley moves to her side of the room.

Maya: I admit I was hoping for a little more bank to work with, but it’s fine. I’m an artist. [ deep sigh ] I can get creative. Just with a little time to mentally rearrange…

Riley: Actually, we might have a little more money.

Maya’s eyes fly open, more intrigued at that than anything else Riley has ever said. She asks what she’s talking about, and Riley explains that she mentioned their plans to her mom, and she thought the idea was great. She may have sent over some money into her account for them to put towards the project. Maya asks how much, rushing over to look over Riley’s shoulder at her laptop screen.

However much money she sees, it’s enough to make her gasp and practically jump up and down. She presses her hands to her chest, theatrically overwhelmed.

Maya: Hell yes! Thank you, mama Lawrence.

Riley: I mean, it’s nice, but don’t consider it charity. She’s always looking for ways to one-up my dad, so it’s more for her benefit than ours.

Maya: God damn, I wish I had divorced parents. What an easy game to play. All I’ve got is a deadbeat I haven’t seen since I was in diapers, and let me tell you, he’s not throwing money around to win my favor.

Riley isn’t exactly inclined to agree, but it’s no use trying to correct her. It’s Maya. Anyway, she is excited to start planning and shopping, but they’re going to have to wait a day. She already has plans that afternoon.

Maya: What could possibly be more important than bling?

Riley, pointedly: Friendship.

Maya doesn’t seem convinced, but to each their own. As Riley goes to get ready, Maya shifts back to the blank poster board. She’s much more excited now that their budget has been upped considerably.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - DAY

Isadora emerges from her room, still clad in cotton shorts and a sweatshirt but at least up and moving. It’s because she’s expecting company, getting to the living room just as there’s a knock at the door.

When she pulls it open, Dylan and Asher are waiting on the other side. They give her enthusiastic smiles when they see her, not even faltering at her less than composed appearance. Asher claims it’s so good to see her, and she says they should feel honored. The only reason she’s letting them stop by is Dylan’s promised cupcakes.

Dylan holds the tupperware out proudly, and Isadora takes it. He starts to warn her that the message he intended didn’t quite translate over, but she’s already prying open the lid. The mistake is glaringly obvious, the cupcakes arranged to spell out “Feel better Isado ♥” with the heart tacked onto the end.

Isadora stares at the cupcakes, then looks up at them for explanation. Dylan eyes them forlornly.

Dylan: I ran out of cupcakes.

Asher, fondly: He wrote the heart first.

Dylan smiles sheepishly. He’s so darn cute, and genuine at that, even Isadora can’t help but crack a smile. She laughs a bit, closing the tupperware container.

Isadora: They’re perfect. Thanks, Dyl.

His smile brightens. Isadora invites them both in, claiming she can at least show them her new room since they made all the effort to come over. Dylan comments how crazy it is that they’re entering a faculty member’s home.

Asher: We’ve been to Riley’s.

Dylan: Come on, Cory’s not like a real faculty. If he evaporated, would anybody notice?

Asher: You know you don’t have to convince me of Cory’s irrelevancy or failures as an educator.

Isadora: Yeah, if he ever does go missing, you’re my first suspect.

Fair enough. Isadora drops the cupcakes on the counter in the kitchen and then guides them back down the hall to her room.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Whereas her physical appearance is easy to forgive, the state of her room is less so. It’s a total disaster area, the products of depression and general lack of fucks to give, though essences of how she originally designed it manage to peek through.

Asher, however, cannot ignore the mess. He stops stock still in the doorway with wide eyes, taking it all in with a subtle expression of horror as Dylan plows in after Isadora, not at all attune to the disarray. Asher takes his entrance more cautiously, careful to step on the few places on the floor where dirty laundry doesn’t reign.

Dylan asks Isadora how her summer has been and how it feels like they haven’t seen her since June. They lightly tread the subject of how she’s recovering from Valerie’s death, but it’s obvious she doesn’t want to talk about it. When Dylan asks what plans she has for the last week of summer and she basically intends to just waste it away in her room, Dylan gets fired up on her behalf. He claims she can’t waste this time. It’s important! Indispensable! Of great import!

Isadora, to Asher: Word of the day calendar?

Asher: Oh, no, now he’s just started flipping through the thesaurus when I’m reading books. It’s kind of impressive, isn’t it?

Dylan: Dora, you cannot let this time just wither away. We’re in the prime, okay? This is the BOT-R-O-Y-L!

Isadora blinks, lost. She looks to Asher again, checking to make sure that was English, but even he seemed stumped. He shrugs.

Asher: Even I don’t know.

Dylan rolls his eyes. Asher shifts his focus back to the mess, lightly nudging at a sweater on the floor with his Oxfords.

Dylan: BOT-R-O-Y-L. “The beginning of the rest of your life.” It’s happening now, Dor, and you can’t just let it slip away.

Isadora: You’re serious. The last week of summer vacation is supposed to be the beginning of the rest of my life?

Dylan: Yes! It is. Because this is the last summer where we’re all going to be here, in this way, exactly as we are now. And everything that comes after it is gonna come fast -- senior year, college choices, graduation. And when all that’s happening, you won’t be focused on it. You won’t be in the now, because you’ll be stuck here thinking about how you didn’t take advantage of this time when you should’ve. And that will just make you miss out on everything else. Like you’ll always be a few steps behind. The future is now!

Isadora: … okay, you’re a weirdo, but you’re strangely making sense.

Asher: [ tuning back into the conversation while he folds a couple of jackets onto her dresser ] He’s good at that.

Point made. Isadora concedes it, but she also says that socializing is hard enough when she’s not… boiling over with emotions she still hasn’t figured out how to process. She knows she should be over it by now -- which Dylan and Asher both quickly refute, stating grief takes different time for everyone -- but it just feels like a lot. It’s easier to just stay in and keep that away from everyone else.

Dylan hears this, but he reiterates that they miss her. She can just try today, come out and do something with the two of them, and if it really feels like too much then no harm no foul. But Dylan feels pretty confident she’ll like it once she’s back out there. He knows she doesn’t feel quite like herself, but...

Dylan: We’d rather have Dora at half-volume than no Dora at all.

This sentiment touches her, but she still doesn’t seem convinced. When she expresses her reluctance to go out again, Asher offers a suggestion of his own.

Asher: Well, if going out feels like too much of a burden, then we could always stay here and clean.

It sounds like a joke, but coming from Asher, the statement is one-hundred percent earnest. Dylan gives Isadora a pointed look.

Isadora: Okay, okay, fine. You got me, anything but that. Do your worst.

Isadora leads the march out, Dylan grinning. He meets Asher in the doorway, fondly pinching his side and leaning closer to whisper.

Dylan: Good thinking on the cleaning thing. Always count on you to come up with a clever strategy.

He gives him a brisk kiss on the cheek, catching up with Isadora. Asher frowns slightly as he follows them out.

Asher: It wasn’t a strategy…

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Maya is in fact window shopping downtown, but not with Farkle. She’s on the phone with him instead, keeping up conversation as she peers in boutique windows. It’s clear she’s excited about having some money to spend. Every other line in their conversation, she punctuates with a “ooh, that’s cute…” or hum of excitement.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

The actual subject of their conversation, though, is Isadora. They’ve been her most consistent company this summer, but even they haven’t seen or heard much from her in the past couple weeks and are concerned. Farkle explains he heard through the grapevine that Dylan and Asher were going to try and handle it, to which Maya scrunches her face in disgust.

Maya: Tragic. Well, good luck to Izzy.

Their third wheel out of commission, Farkle attempts to plan something with Maya around his many appointments that day. But she’s distracted, totally transfixed by the possibilities of shopping, that the plans don’t go anywhere. Farkle gives up, flopping down onto his bed as he continues to listen to her marvel about how nice it is to have funds.

Speaking of a place with no shortage of funding…

EXT. HAVERFORD PREP - DAY

Riley is visibly amazed by the campus of Haverford as she makes her way towards the school. Charlie is waiting on the steps for her, jogging down to come greet her. She gives him an enthusiastic hug, immediately launching into questions about the school and its grand accommodations.

She suggests they go inside to take a look around -- he can give her a tour -- but Charlie dodges the request. He says they should walk somewhere else, get some fresh air. It’s school for him, so it’ll be nice to get away from campus for a little bit.

Riley can tell he’s being shifty about it, but she doesn’t question him, letting him lead the way. She glances back over her shoulder at the looming modern institution.

Clearly, Charlie isn’t ready to let his two worlds collide quite yet.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Lucas is working the counter when Isadora enters with Dylan and Asher, not displeased to see her. He greets them as cheerfully as one could expect from him, stating it’s good to see Isadora out and about. He asks what they were up to this afternoon.

Isadora: Went to the movies.

Lucas, unimpressed: The movies. You went to see a movie? [ to Dylan and Asher ] That’s your big breakout plan for Dora?

Dylan: Hey, hey, hey, all in due time, young jackasshopper. The week is just getting started.

Lucas: It’s Tuesday.

Dylan, unfazed: The week is basically just getting started. You’ve got to ease into these sorts of things. [ patting Isadora’s shoulders ] We’ll go grab a seat.

Dylan and Asher go to do just that, giving Lucas and Isadora the chance to catch up one-on-one. Lucas asks her how she’s taking being back out in the world, and she admits that Dylan is right. Something gradual like a movie was just what she needed to start, especially since the movie theater is her happy place.

Lucas: So you’re feeling good about the rest of the week?

Isadora: Oh, no, terrified. But less because of crushing social anxiety and more because of the unpredictable whimsy of Dylan Orlando.

Lucas: So more like normal, then.

Isadora: Maybe so.

Her banter is seemingly getting back in shape too. Lucas smiles lightly, telling her sincerely that he’s glad she’s out and about again. She returns the smile, weak but genuine, and saunters off to go join Dylan and Asher at a table.

Jack and Eric come through the door, shifting Lucas’s demeanor from soft to grumpy teenager in an instant. He asks what the hell they’re both doing there, showing up at his place of work unannounced. Can’t they just leave him be? Isn’t seeing him at school enough? Jack raises his eyebrows, torn between amusement and affront.

Jack: Boy, you don’t own Chubbies.

Lucas: Not yet…

Eric: [ off Jack’s eye roll, with a smile ] We’re just picking up a lunch order. We didn’t come here to spy on you.

Lucas doesn’t seem convinced, but he takes their receipt and goes to retrieve the order anyway. Eric and Jack take a look around the diner as they wait, casually waving to the assorted Adams students who greet (or gape at) them from their spots hanging out.

Jack comments that it’s good to see Isadora out, facing away from them in her booth with Dylan and Asher. He knows that Eric was worried about her. Eric claims he’s always worried about her, but he supposes that is what parenthood is supposed to be like. Just odd, considering he skipped all the other stuff before teenagedom.

Well, Jack thinks he’s doing a pretty good job. So they both had somewhat unconventional life paths… so what? Nothing wrong with that. Eric agrees, pausing before venturing the topic again of other ways they might be unconventional. Their dynamic, whatever it is… certainly not exactly a standard work relationship. But, then, no fairytale romance either. Jack agrees, vaguely, not disagreeing with the assessment that it’s a romance but not exactly saying what they are either.

He turns back to look over his shoulder towards the counter, waiting for Lucas. Eric bounces on the balls of his feet, looking at Jack, trying to find how to make him say what he wants to hear.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “What A Man Gotta Do” as performed by the Jonas Brothers || Performed by Eric Matthews (feat. Jack Hunter)

The energetic bass line floats in as Eric continues to look at Jack, launching into the song as he contemplates their relationship. While the specifics of their dynamic are unclear, there’s no question that Eric knows how he feels about Jack and what he wants from their relationship.

The first chunk of the song takes place within Chubbies, other patrons getting into the number. Jack is a participant but more in the reluctant muse variety, playing along with a bashful smirk but letting Eric do most of the performing. The dancing takes on a kind of sockhop ‘50s energy, bouncy and full of spunk.

INT. AAA - DAY

Throughout the second verse and chorus, we’re back at AAA, Eric continuing the serenade while he and Jack walk through various parts of the school doing their inspection. In the halls, in the auditorium, up on the catwalk, doesn’t matter -- Jack has his undivided attention, but the work at hand not so much.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

They conclude their walkabout in the cafeteria, Eric hopping onto the tables and really digging into his ballad. Jack chides at him and pulls him down off the tables -- health and safety hazard, come on! -- but that’s an excuse for Eric to drag him into the dance. The two of them do a little jig of their own across the cafeteria…

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Intercut with the number still going on at Chubbies. The dancing is much more impressive from the younger, more skilled cast members in the diner, doing lifts and flips and such, but Jack and Eric have no trouble maintaining the center of attention.

As the song comes to an end, they resume their former place at the counter before the number began. They settle back into nonchalance, as if the song never happened, the diner patrons back milling about and in their respective booths. Being the first performance in the space, it proves that Chubbies acts as sort of a liminal performance space -- not everything that occurs in the space is necessarily reality, when it comes to singing and dancing.

And that’s for the best, at least for Lucas. He returns moments later, spared the imaginary musical theatrics, and hands over their order. Jack hands over a few bills, tipping him nicely.

Lucas, pridefully: I don’t want this.

Jack: Yes, you do.

Eric: Consider it a down payment for dinner tomorrow.

Well, with that logic… fine. Lucas makes a face and pockets the money, dropping one of the bills in the jar for the cooks. Suffice to say, Lucas’s relationship with money -- and who’s giving it to him -- is complicated at best.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - DAY

Riley and Charlie have found a place to settle, a picnic table in the beautiful and scenic Central Park. He’s catching her up on how Haverford is going, selling it a little too keenly to be entirely genuine. He quickly shifts the focus off him, asking how everyone is doing in their last week of summer before classes start at AAA.

Riley gives him the short version of how everyone is doing, from Farkle’s medical stuff to Isadora’s grieving to her and Lucas’s slight trouble yesterday morning.

Charlie: Oh, so that’s why you had time to come hang out with me…

She glares at him, kicking him playfully. He grins, and she tells him that it’s already weird without him being on the same schedule as them. It’s going to be odd, not having him there. She reaches out, touching his hand.

Riley: We miss you.

Charlie: … I miss you guys, too.

Still, he claims it’s going to be okay. How things are is for the best. Sure, Riley says… and anyway, just because he’s at a new school doesn’t mean he has to disappear from their lives. He can still see them, he’s still part of their family. In fact, he should come see West Side Story this Saturday.

This, Charlie is less able to gloss over with a smile. He falters, murmuring that he doesn’t know if that’s the best idea. Riley frowns, not allowing him to brush her off.

Riley: Charlie. [ waiting for him to meet her eyes ] Have you gone to see it at all? It’s a really good production.

Charlie: Yeah, I know --

Riley: I know that you and Zay aren’t… I know things are off because of how you… how things ended last year. I know you’re not how you were, but you’re still… I mean, you’re still friends, aren’t you? I think he would want you to be there. To just ghost --

Charlie: Okay, okay! Riley, you can ease off. I’ll… I’ll think about it.

Not a guarantee, but better than nothing. Riley lets it go, for now.

INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE - DAY

Farkle is meeting with his therapist, DR. MICHELLE HAN. They discuss the phenomenal progress he’s made in just the last few months, and how while there’s still plenty of work to go, it’s good that his suicidal ideation doesn’t seem to have made a comeback.

Farkle: Yeah, I think a good diet of making jokes about it whenever possible keeps it in check. Self-prescribed.

Dr. Han is used to his quips, so she merely smiles as she writes off the comment. They swap to discussing the progress of his treatment plans, and that the next stage is upping the dosage of the current antidepressant he’s on. Ideally, this should more regulate his mood and keep him from having those dips that he’s suffered from throughout the summer.

Farkle bluntly comments there’s nothing else to do but try, and though it’s said flatly, Dr. Han agrees. She reminds him that mental health is an imperfect, trial-by-error process, and they’ll take each development as it comes. Farkle nods, committed to it in spite of his pithy commentary and jokes.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Jack and Eric emerge from the front office, disappointed but not surprised to see that it’s dark outside. Their ability to stay well past a normal hour is truly astounding… but in this case, it makes sense. They both want Adams to be in the best shape it can possibly be, so the work is worth it.

After their thorough examination and enumeration of everything they need to do today, though, they’re on the right track. For their own mental well-being, Eric suggests they should do their best the next few days to get out of there before nightfall. If that means scheduling other things -- like dinners with the kiddos, for instance -- then so be it. Anything to get them out of there.

Jack agrees as they head towards the doors, pointing out they should make a pact then and there not to come in on the weekend. They will do their work during this week, as your average employee would, and then they will put up the healthy wall of distance. No coming in on Saturday or Sunday to do last-minute tidying or search for more problems to solve. They are going to be strong, independent men away from their disaster school.

Eric can fancy that. The two of them shake on it, a bit cheeky, before they push out the doors and into the humid August evening.

INT. HAVERFORD PREP - STUDENT LOUNGE - DAY

The next morning, Charlie gets more formally introduced to some of his fellow Haverford classmates when he checks out the senior student lounge. This includes BILLY ROSS (18), EVAN SCOTT (17), and DWIGHT “DWEEZIL” HOWARD (16), whom everyone affectionately refers to as Dweezil.

They’re all cute, charming, and well-groomed. Billy carries some of the signature aloof coolness of Zay or Nigel, while Dweezil could be a distant cousin of Dylan, only blonde and far more reserved. Evan is the most similar to Charlie himself, soft-spoken but pleasant and clever.

For what it’s worth, they’re nice, too. They show genuine interest in getting to know Charlie, asking him about what he likes about Haverford so far and what he misses about Adams. Billy seems particularly interested in Adams, wanting to know what their main rival is like within the stone walls. Charlie ducks talking about AAA, instead turning the conversation back to them.

Evan says that a bunch of them are going to hang out at Dweezil’s place after school today, and Charlie should definitely come. He thanks them for the offer, and is totally interested, but actually today won’t work. He already has plans.

Billy: Ooh, plans. You got someone we might wanna know about, Charlie?

Dweezil: I saw you talking to that brunette before lunch yesterday. She’s cute.

Ooh, a girl. Charlie laughs awkwardly, stating it’s not like that. The friend, or the person he has to see today. But it’s important, something he can’t miss.

Oh, well. Another time then. Charlie lets the conversation shift off of him, happy to be included but comfortably in the background again.

INT. SHOPPING MALL - DAY

Maya and Riley are out shopping, walking the spacious atrium of a mall out in the suburbs outside the city. Maya comments they would’ve had more fun walking 5th Avenue.

Riley: Yeah, okay, we’re not broke, but we’re not working with that much money.

Besides, as she claims, there’s more variety and flexibility at a mall like this. More options, and easily accessible. They’ll be able to find everything they need.

That, Maya can second. She pauses outside a cute boutique with chic clothes in the window, claiming that if they spend wisely, they can get more than just new room decor. Wouldn’t it be nice to have some new threads before the school year starts?

Riley hesitantly agrees, but she knows they have to be cautious with their funds. She tries to find a way to trick Maya out of her interest, offering up a challenge. Sure, they can shop for clothes too -- but then both of them get to pick an outfit for the other person. And the other has to wear it on the first day of school, no arguments.

Riley’s mistake was forgetting that Maya loves a juicy challenge. She eagerly accepts, stating she is going to find the perfect thing for Riley to wear on the first day as she flurries into the store. Riley grimaces, chasing after her.

Maya: You’re so on, Matthews. Let’s shop.

Riley, nervously: Wait, okay, maybe let’s set some ground rules --

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Isadora is trailing behind Dylan and Asher as they make their way through AAA’s neighborhood, asking them where the hell they’re headed. Dylan deftly dodges her question with vague non-answers, to the amusement of Asher and chagrin of Isadora.

Dylan: Are any of us really headed anywhere? Are we not, at the end of the day, all headed to the same thing?

Isadora: Thanks, Dyl Pickle. That’s what the girl with the dead mom wants to hear.

Dylan: Oh, no no, you’re mistaken. I’ll never die.

Bewildering, but classically, Dylan offers no elaboration on that bold comment. He grins wider as he spots what he’s looking for, arriving in an outdoor pavilion area and greeting some additional members to their party.

It’s the techie crew, back in action. JADE BEAMON, NATE MARTINEZ, JEFF MONROE, and DAVE WILLIAMS are waiting around for them, happily greeting Isadora when they see her approaching with Dylan and Asher. They claim it’s great to see her, and Isadora accepts a gentle hug from Jade.

Isadora: You’re not all just waiting around here for me, are you?

Nate: Uh, yeah. That’s what Dylan told us to do.

Jeff: We’re just happy to see you. And it’s nice to get the whole gang back together before we’re back in that performance prison for one more year.

Dave: Well, not Lucas.

Jade: No, of course not. Because --

All, mockingly: “He has to work.”

Though she’s still uncertain, and doesn’t know if their dynamic is going to quite be the same, Isadora is already smiling again. The energy of the techie crew, her original crew, is infectious, and it’s good to be around them again. She turns the question to Dylan and Asher, asking if they thought this would be some magical serotonin cure-all.

Dylan: Maybe. Is it working?

Asher: We wanted to show you that even when you disappear for a while, your crew is going to be here when you’re ready to reemerge. You’re not going back into the jungle alone.

Jeff: Bet.

Isadora: Even after last year? Everything wasn’t exactly picture perfect before Hurricane Val wiped everything else off my mental map.

Jade: I mean, no, things aren’t going to be exactly the same, but that doesn’t mean we’re gone for good.

Dave: Once a techie, always a techie.

And that’s exactly the message Dylan wanted to be clear. And in case it wasn’t, well, there’s an easy way to remedy that.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Jet Song” as performed by West Side Story Original Cast Recording || Performed by AAA Senior Techies

[ Lyrics specific to characters. Follow along here! ]

Dylan takes the Riff lead, kicking off the song with enthusiasm. Every “Jet” is smoothly replaced with “Tech.” When he refers to having “brothers around,” he loops an arm around Jeff and Nate and pulls them close in a hug. Asher takes over from there, the two of them passing the first verse back and forth.

Then the crew of them take off, marching through the pavilion as a group. While the orchestra vamps Dylan leads the group with Isadora, explaining his plan that they’re all going to go to Zay’s final performance Saturday night. Jade snorts at the idea that Lucas would go anywhere, let alone a theater; Nate points out that Zay is a performer, and they’ve never especially stepped up to support performers.

Dylan: Nate, the era of divisions is past. There’s no techies, no performers. Just senior A class, baby!

Dave: Great, daddio.

Asher: So listen -- [ as the group huddles ] Everybody dress up sweet and sharp. Meet me, Isa, and Dyl at the theater before 7. And walk tall!

Jeff: We always walk tall!

Jade: We’re techs!

Nate: The greatest!

From there, the techie tots take over, taking to the streets and jumping around together. Jeff and Nate are carrying most of the vocals, but as an ensemble, they all sound pretty decent. Thankfully, the Jets weren’t the most perfectly harmonious performers either. Yeah!

EXT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY

Charlie is seated alone at a table on the patio, at an unfamiliar coffee shop, tapping his fingers nervously against the tabletop. The rhythm is intrinsic, like a waltz, counts of three over and over to keep him grounded while he waits for his expected company. The lemonade he ordered sits untouched in front of him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait much longer. His eyes widen when he spots her, his internal metronome freezing on the downbeat.

BRIDGETTE GARDNER (21). She’s thin and waifish, pretty like her siblings with thick dark hair and attractive bone structure. But that’s where the resemblance stops, as her demeanor is nowhere near as palatable and pleasant as her brother. She’s dressed in dark hues, light crocheted cardigan hanging down around her elbows and exposing her shoulders under her black tank top. Her eyeliner is bold around her bright blue eyes, icy and sharp and heavy with something. Like knowledge, like she already knows everything there is to know, has seen all the truth that there is to see.

To Charlie, though, she’s just his big sister. The big sister he hasn’t seen in years, scrubbed out of his family history like an ink stain.

He rises to his feet as she hesitates, slowing her approach. Finally, they’re in front of one another, not sure what to say. Not smiling—Charlie in shock, Bridgette out of defensive precaution.

Then, Charlie moves, pulling her into an embrace without a word. He lets out a sigh, holding her tighter. Saying all the soft, vulnerable things without saying anything at all.

Bridgette tenses, then slowly lifts her arms to return the hug.

INT. ANIMAL SHELTER - DAY

Riley and Lucas are working side-by-side at the shelter, both clad in their dark green volunteer shirts. They’re cleaning out cat cages and feeding them as they go, moving with precision that indicates they’ve done this routine before. Volunteering there together isn’t a new thing for them.

As charitable as that is, Lucas can’t help but point out it doesn’t exactly abide by Cory’s demands. In fact, they’ve seen an awful lot of each other for two people who are forbidden from interacting for the week.

Riley: I don’t see why the good animals of Manhattan should have to suffer for my misdeeds. It would be irresponsible, nay, an injustice, if I were to shirk my volunteer duties simply because we happen to work shifts at the same time.

Lucas: Someone is getting real good at finding loopholes. [ granting her a smirk ] I’m so proud.

Riley beams, shrugging her shoulders flirtatiously. She goes on to tell him about how redecorating is going, explaining the challenge she and Maya made about getting to dress the other for the first day. Lucas cringes, though whether it’s because of Maya or because he’s cleaning a litterbox isn’t totally clear.

Lucas: I like you, Riley, but I think I’ll have to cut my eyes out if you show up to school looking like a mini-Maya. Isadora last year was terrorizing enough.

Riley: [ with an eye roll ] We’re not dressing like each other, we’re just picking for each other. Forces us to try something new, embrace a little change. Might as well start the year that way, since senior year is guaranteed to have a lot of it.

Yeah, to that point… Riley starts to ask if Lucas has thought at all about what his college application plans are yet. She knows she wants to apply to Barnard, a local all-women highly-ranked liberal arts college. And she’s thinking about performing programs, but then maybe not. Lucas seems hesitant to answer, but he’s saved by a VET TECH employee poking her head out from the back room.

Vet Tech: Lucas, you got a minute to give us a hand? Lil’ Nat needs shots again, and you’re the only one who can get her to sit still long enough without traumatizing the poor thing.

Lucas: Yeah, sure. I’m just about finished here.

Vet Tech: Awesome. We’re just in the back when you’re ready. [ to Riley ] I tell you, your friend’s got the magic touch.

Riley: Oh, believe me, I’m very aware.

Lucas cuts Riley a look, which she matches with an innocent smile. Once the tech is gone, Riley watches Lucas scoop up the cat whose cage he was cleaning and lock it back up properly.

Riley: You know, seems like you’ve got a thing for this. Working with animals. Maybe like… a talent?

Lucas brushes her off, especially the teasing nature of discussing “talent” when they know he has none, but Riley isn’t actually kidding. She watches him thoughtfully as he jogs to the back room, only turning her attention back to the task at hand when the cat in the cage she’s tending to headbutts her affectionately.

EXT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY

Bridgette is now seated opposite Charlie, some of the ice broken between them. She’s finishing up explaining why their reunion had to wait so long when he reached out in June and it’s now almost September — she was abroad in Europe.

Bridgette: Take it from me, everyone should travel somewhere new at least once. Get a new perspective, see something they’ve never seen before. Illuminating, really.

Charlie pauses trying to process her actually being there, what she’s like now versus how he remembers her, to ask the obvious question — how did she afford to do that? There’s no way she had the money on her own after whatever happened with mom and dad.

Bridgette: Family outcast rule number 1. Make rich friends.

And, as she goes on to explain, their great aunt Mary helped fund her voyage. This is shocking to Charlie, as she’s as devout as Eleanor if not more, but Bridgette explains that’s exactly why she did it.

Bridgette: I think she saw it like the ultimate good deed, like missionary work at home. Like if she helped me go abroad, explore something new, the journey would take me straight to Jesus and I’d be born again. Then I’d come crying back to her, so grateful, so happy I’d found the Lord again and that she helped me achieve it. And I’d come back home, we’d be a perfect happy Gardner unit again, and she would get all the sainthood credit of bringing our devious defective Bridgette back from Satan’s fiery hold. [ a beat ] Obviously, that didn’t happen, but I ate a lot of hellishly good food.

It takes some adjusting, hearing someone from his family speak so uncharacteristically heathen-like. Zay, sure, but a Gardner? Charlie uses the opportunity to broach the topic of their family and her banishment, trying to get to the bottom of what happened.

Bridgette: It’s okay, Chuckles. You can ask me direct. Neither of us are going to burn up in hellfire. I cast a protective charm over us when I sat down.

[ Charlie blinks, uncertain. Bridgette gives him a look. ]

Bridgette: That was a joke. Come on, I’m just the exile, not back from the dead. You can laugh a little bit, buddy.

Charlie: Sorry. Sorry, it’s just, um… a lot. And you’re… it’s just been…

Bridgette: I know. Been a while since I’ve seen you, too, you know. Last I remember, you were two inches shorter with an even worse haircut. Might’ve still had braces too, though maybe it’s just all running together.

Comment about his hair aside, Charlie asks again what the heck even happened. Bridgette is surprised Eleanor never told them, as she thought she would’ve used it as a lesson. Made a big example, or whatever. Charlie claims the mystery and finality of her disappearance was deterrent enough, from any and all things. Maybe vagueness was more effective after all. Bridgette shakes her head, crossing her arms and taking a moment before meeting his eyes.

Bridgette: You really wanna know what I did? Brace yourself, it’s downright damning. [ bluntly ] I had sex.

Charlie stares at her, waiting for more. There isn’t. Bridgtte senses his uncertainty.

Bridgette: That’s right. I’m a dirty little sinner, because I had sex before marriage. Like damn Eve in the garden of Eden, just too curious with my devilish womanhood. But that wasn’t even my mistake, you know. I could’ve done it, and done it as much as I wanted, and gotten away with it. Mom and dad are intimidating, but they’re not all-knowing. They would’ve never known any better. No, my fatal error was telling mom the truth. I thought, okay, I did this, but mom loves me. She’ll help me out of it, figure out how to turn those feelings off, or at least set me up so that I could explore safely. I think that’s what I wanted, really, but I should’ve known that would never be an option. I didn’t get that far, anyway.

As she recounts it, their discussion after her confession didn’t last long. Eleanor was disappointed, disgusted even, and the only way she would “help” her would be to take her out of college and ship her off to Bible college. There, she could be under watchful eyes, and work through prayer and therapies toward rehabilitation with God. Bridgette said fuck that, and Eleanor claimed if she wasn’t going to fix it, she wouldn’t do it under their roof. So, she left.

Charlie shakes his head, struggling to grapple with it all. He supposes he knew, to some degree, always figured what must’ve happened. But it’s hard to reconcile, to work through, when he still knows his mother as loving and supportive and wanting the best for him. Conditionally, maybe, but that’s not nothing.

But he thanks Bridgette for sharing the truth with him. And for showing up at all when he reached out. She didn’t have to do that — he did nothing to help her either, so she could’ve easily just ignored him and kept the embargo going. She had every right.

Bridgette: Charlie, it’s not your job to show up for me. Least of all when you didn’t even know. You’re my little brother, not a saint.

[ Charlie lets that sink in. Bridgette shrugs, slouching more comfortably now that her secrets are out. ]

Bridgette: Besides, I figured if you were reaching out to me, there had to be a reason. You wouldn’t be sneaking around trying to connect with me if there weren’t some motivation pushing you to it.

Charlie: Couldn’t it just be brotherly love?

Bridgette: It could. But I’m not naive enough to believe it’s that simple.

They hold eye contact, Bridgette arching an eyebrow. Her icy eyes see right through him. So?

Charlie takes a deep breath, looking down at the table. He struggles through articulating that she’s not the only one with secrets, that he needed to see that even after her exodus she was still surviving. To see that there’s a life beyond their perfect house, just in case, because he’s more and more aware of the risk.

Charlie: I’m never going to be the ideal son mom and dad want me to be. I can’t be. I’m not going to be the honorable man with the beautiful wife and perfect kids and radiant sense of blessed peace. I’m not going to have any of that. And I tried, I mean, I thought for so long maybe I could. I just hadn’t unlocked it, hadn’t figured out what was missing, but I know that’s not how it works now. I know who I am, and it’s not that. I’m never going to have a beautiful wife.

[ Bridgette waits patiently. Charlie chokes on the thought and clears his throat, centering himself before he tries again. He meets her eyes. ]

Charlie: I’m gay. I don’t like… I couldn’t… [ sighing ] I’m gay.

The sentiment hangs in the air between them, Charlie’s first intentional coming out. Bridgette doesn’t seem at all surprised, or affected, maintaining her calm demeanor.

Bridgette: Okay. Good for you, Charlie. Thanks for telling me.

Not nearly as dramatic as he imagined. But maybe it’s better that way. Charlie nods, catching his breath. Bridgette goes on to point out that sinning aside, he’s already smarter than she was as he clearly has not told their parents. As long as he doesn’t do that, then he’ll be fine, at least as long as he can handle the guilt.

Bridgette: And who knows? Maybe they'll surprise you. Maybe mom will be like one of those Catholics who takes pity on the gays, those poor sinners who can’t help themselves. So long as you don’t do something truly sinful and unforgivable, you know, like sex before marriage —

Charlie grimaces and then whines, dropping his head on his arms on the tabletop. Bridgette pauses, clocking his dramatic reaction, then bursts into laughter. Oh, Chuckles, Chuckles, Chuckles…

INT. MINKUS HOME - NIGHT

Farkle and Jennifer return from another day of doctoring, the former obviously exhausted. EZRA MINKUS rushes out to greet him with a hug, telling him he missed him all day.

STUART MINKUS emerges from his back office as well, greeting them cheerfully and asking how everything went. Jennifer lauds Farkle’s improvement according to the doctors, and then the both of them begin asking Farkle a bunch of questions while Ezra barrels him with details about his day. How is he feeling? What does he feel like for dinner — they could order his favorite? Is he able to play now that he’s not sick? Frankly, Farkle has had enough prodding for a lifetime, mental or otherwise.

Farkle, waspish: What I’m feeling is that I would like five minutes of a little peace and quiet! Alone!

He marches out of the room, retreating to his room and slamming the door. Ezra asks if he made Farkle mad, but Stuart assures him it wasn’t his fault. They’re all understanding. It’s just… tough right now.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Farkle reclines against his door, releasing a sigh. Solitude is nice, and needed, but it doesn’t make him feel all that better. He doesn’t like feeling so moody, snapping at his family, being on knife’s edge. He misses when things were normal, or at least, he thought they were. Recovery is crucial, but he didn’t expect it to be so damn exhausting.

He collapses onto his bed with a flop, the sonic pop beat dropping just as he does…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “In My Bed” as performed by Sabrina Carpenter || Performed by Farkle Minkus

Farkle starts the performance sideways on his bed, the camera moving in odd angles with him as he dramatically rolls around in theatrics. He also moves around his room and plays with the scenery, leaning into the melodramatic anguish yet skillfully contrasted with the somewhat flat delivery of the vocals.

INT. DOCTOR’S OFFICES - DAY

The other part of the number is split in and out of doctor’s offices, Farkle basically floating through the scenery as different physicians and experts poke and prod and question him. He lets it all happen without comment, like a specimen under a microscope, staring blankly at the camera to convey his exhaustion while he sings.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Then, he concludes the song back in his room, flopping backwards onto his bed on the last “I’m still in my bed.”

INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT

As promised, Jack and Eric are having dinner with Lucas and Isadora, the teens opposite them in a booth. Though the gathering is far from conventional — principal, counselor, adoptee, and delinquent — the dynamic amongst them is comfortable and casual. It’s clear they’ve done this multiple times before.

Isadora asks Jack and Eric how the inspection is going, if they think they’ll have to do a lot of work before the school year starts. Lucas asks for elaboration, like if they’ve learned anything about the hack coming into admin or what his game is. Jack cautions against writing the new colleague off as a hack from the get-go, to which Lucas rolls his eyes. Eric assures them they’ve got everything under control, and he’s feeling confident things will go off swimmingly.

Lucas, flatly: Someone should be.

He swipes a fry off Isadora’s plate, causing her to elbow him in the side. He’s got his own food, doesn’t he? Jackass. Lucas grins, chewing his stolen French fry pointedly. Eric watches them in amusement, Jack commenting that’s as good a time as any to grab the check. He gets up to go pay, leaving Eric to temper Lucas and Isadora’s sibling-like bickering.

As Jack pays the bill, the WAITRESS working the register casts a glance towards their unusual table. Though, to her, it clearly doesn’t seem so odd. She smiles.

Waitress: Cute family.

Jack opens his mouth to correct her, but something stops him. Instead he glances at them, then back to her, retrieving his credit card.

Jack: Thank you.

She tells him he’s good to go. As Jack puts his card back into his wallet, he watches his “family” far afar, fondness written all over his face.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

The room is in the midst of a makeover, Riley and Maya moving things around while they add their new decor to the space. It’s already got a little more pizazz, but still has a ways to go.

Maya is doing more directing than helping, distracted by their clothes haul and eager to get to trying stuff on. Riley drags her away from the bags, reminding her that once they get their room in shape, then they can see what torture they have in store for each other.

Maya: Ye of little faith…

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Lucas is bussing a vacated table when Farkle hurricanes through the doors in a huff. It’s clear he’s frazzled, fidgety as he spots Lucas.

Farkle: You’re here.

Lucas, bluntly: Yeah. I work here.

Farkle: Oh, right. Weird.

Lucas: Sure, I’m the weird one…

Lucas starts heading back behind the counter with the bin of dishes, Farkle trailing along behind him. He asks if Riley is here, to which Lucas tells him he can look around and answer that for himself.

That’s obviously not what Farkle wants to hear. He runs a hand through his hair, smacking a hand down on the countertop.

Farkle: I swear, I’m losing my mind. Not that I had much of one to begin with, but if I have to spend one more day in a doctor’s office or in that stupid penthouse suite I really think I might kill someone.

Lucas just looks at him, slightly judgmental, clearly wondering why the hell he has to be the one stuck listening to this tirade. But Farkle is not deterred, continuing on about how he’s sick of being monitored and babied and so heavily in control it’s like he’s spiraling out of it in spite. It’s suffocating, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to fix it when the stuff that fixes it is what is making him insane. He feels crazy. He feels absolutely deranged. After a certain amount of melodrama, Lucas snaps.

Lucas: Oh my God, enough!

He walks away from the counter, his disappearance just enough to stun Farkle into silence. He reappears a few moments later though, peeling off his apron and hanging it behind the counter. He heads towards the door, gesturing brusquely for Farkle to follow.

Lucas: Come on, move it. Let’s go.

Farkle: What? Where are we going?

Lucas stops, meeting his eyes with a sharp glare. It’s not the least bit encouraging.

Lucas, shortly: We’re fixing it.

Then he pushes out the door, not waiting up. Scary prospects, and Lucas has never been a friend to Farkle. But his curiosity is piqued, it’s a distraction from the… everything else, and well, he’s always had a little bit of a fear kink.

Farkle jogs out after him.

EXT. SKATE PARK - DAY

Dylan and Isadora are making their way down the street, Isadora once again unsure where they’re going. She also asks where Asher is, as it’s just the two of them that afternoon. Dylan explains that he got Riley to pull a favor for him with Zay, but doesn’t elaborate. He’ll catch up with them later. Isadora gets distracted before she can question further, as they arrive at their destination.

The local skate park. Bustling with teens on a Friday afternoon, full of life and energy. It’s clearly Dylan’s turf, a few other skaters shouting greetings at him that he returns with a wave.

Isadora, on the other hand, is not enthused. She’s like oh no way and starts to turn around but Dylan pulls her back, encouraging her to just give it a try. She points out that she has never skated in her life, but he claims that doesn’t matter. As he goes on to say, when he first started out he didn’t know what he was doing either. But it’s freeing, it clears his mind, and she has to admit the two of them have more in common mentally than one would think at first glance.

Dylan: When I started skating, I fell all the time. Got banged up and bruised and scraped, even in places I didn’t know could scrape.

Isadora: Oh, nice. Very encouraging, thank you.

Dylan: But I got back up. Every time. Right now, you’ve been knocked down and banged up and scraped. [ holding out his board ] It’s time to get back up.

He holds her gaze, putting the ball in her court. Isadora hesitates, looking at the board… then takes it with a sigh.

Isadora: Might as well try.

Dylan grins and bounces on his feet, eagerly finding a place for them to practice. He helps her get on the board and then lets her use him as a way to steady herself, until slowly they start moving in one direction. Just when it seems like she’s got the gist, and Dylan lets her go, she speeds up a bit… and wipes out, unable to stop and falling off the board as it keeps going and rams into the chain-link fence.

Dylan: Oh, yikes --

Dylan jogs over, asking if she’s okay. But she’s merely laughing, falling onto her back and cackling uncontrollably. Once she manages to calm to a giggle, she accepts his help to climb back to her feet. She seems energized for the first time all week, expression bright.

Isadora: Let’s try again.

Dylan beams, nodding. The two of them jog to grab the skateboard.

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Zay pushes open the door from the hall, entering with Asher following tentatively behind him. He has the same awe as Yindra and Nigel as he gets to walk around a real production, though his is also sprinkled with his usual amount of nerves.

Asher: Again, if this is a bother, any burden at all, you really don’t have to show me --

Zay: Well, you’re already here so. [ patting his shoulder ] Let’s enjoy it, yeah?

Clearly, Zay has experience dealing with people riddled with anxiety. Still, it works, Asher nodding and following him onto the stage. Zay smiles, telling him he’ll really want to see this, before showing him the full set for the show. Mainly, he thinks the movable set piece that has the fire escape on it is the coolest. Asher marvels at it as Zay climbs around, pulling himself up to sit on the base of the metal.

Asher: Seems sturdy. Good structural design. It would be nice if we could figure out that balance at Triple A -- we usually have to sacrifice style for functionality.

Zay: I wouldn’t call your sets unstylish, Garcia. But anyway, still have one more year to try. And it would probably help if we could have a set that didn’t get vandalized three-fourths into our production.

Touché. Asher continues to walk around the set pieces, getting a good look. Zay states that he likes hanging out on the fire escape since he doesn’t get to spend much time on it during the show -- it’s reserved for Tony and Maria. But off the clock, well, he can do whatever he wants. Just as he’s declaring this independent take, his director steps onto the stage with the stage manager, discussing the show.

Zay hops down from the set quickly, the director cheerfully greeting him but asking what he’s doing there so early. He doesn’t have call time for another couple hours. He coolly explains that he’s showing a friend around, finding Asher hiding behind the set piece and lightly yanking him out to come introduce himself. Asher’s instinct to be professional and polite takes over, making a good impression as he shakes her hand.

Zay: If you’re looking for a production designer in a couple years, look no further. Asher has been creating killer sets and designs for our productions at Adams for four years.

Asher: Oh, well, I don’t know if --

Zay: It’s true. I showed you those photos from our production of Les Mis? This guy, right here.

The director seems suitably impressed, commending Asher for his eye. Asher awkwardly brushes it off, overwhelmed by the praise, claiming it was just as much the effort of his fellow technicians to bring it to life that pulled it off. The director is pleased by that humble reaction, stating it was a pleasant surprise to meet him and telling Zay she’ll see him later before sauntering off with the manager.

Zay: Just got you your first post-grad job, I bet. You’re welcome.

Asher shakes his head. He asks how Zay like… does that all the time, just confidently sells himself with no reservations. Doesn’t he feel weird, bragging like that?

Zay: Well, it’s not bragging when it’s true. I’d argue it’s equally bad to sell yourself so short no one ever even knows you’re there.

Asher: I guess that’s true.

Zay: And why shouldn’t we sell ourselves? Isn’t this the time to do so? Especially when we have the talent, when we deserve it? We’ve got one more year in school, and then after that it’s a whole new world. I don’t know about you, but I’m going in strong.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “ROYL” as performed by Chloe x Halle || Performed by Zay Babineaux, Asher Garcia, Maya Hart, Riley Matthews, Isadora De La Cruz, and Dylan Orlando

Zay leads us into the boppy fun pop track, highlighting the theme for the episode as well as the season as a whole. It’s time to live their lives, spread their wings and fly, and if that includes being a little glamorous and daring, then so be it!

He manages to pull Asher into it within the first verse, the two of them spending the rest of the number strutting through the backstage areas and chewing up the scenery. Though they’re not the only two working the number…

EXT. SKATE PARK - DAY

Dylan and Isadora have their time to jam, boasting the coolest setting as their backdrop. They harmonize and goof off while skaters do impressive tricks around them. Talk about living on the edge and spreading your wings!

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

And Riley and Maya share the sequence as well, grooving and vocalizing while decorating the room. It makes great strides over the course of the song, both of them collapsing onto their beds with a flourish when they’re done.

Just as an explosive goes off --

EXT. OUTDOOR HIDEOUT - DAY

The boom is a firework, Lucas back to his old tricks of setting off explosives. Only this time, it’s a charitable act, as he’s showing Farkle how to do it in an effort to relieve some of his tightly wound stress. It seems to be working, Farkle laughing hysterically as they set another off and let it go zooming off into the sky. He says this is the best afternoon he’s had in weeks.

Lucas: That’s pathetic. But you’re welcome. Just… don’t tell Riley.

Legal? Questionable. But fun? Yes. And seemingly exactly what Farkle needed. He’s got new life in him now, looking towards Lucas as he grabs another bottle rocket and starts to expertly set it up. When he rises to his feet, Farkle speaks.

Farkle: I misjudged you.

The conversation takes on a slightly serious tone, Farkle explaining that he spent so much time deriding Lucas and judging him and purposefully trying to drive him crazy when he honestly didn’t even really know him. And some of the stuff he did to him, the way he behaved… it wasn’t right. So he hopes, like he said last year, that they can move past it.

Lucas is obviously a bit uncomfortable with the vulnerability, but not opposed to the idea of a truce. He avoids eye contact, shrugging.

Lucas: Well, it’s not like I was an angel towards you either… [ glancing at him ] Guess we can call it even.

Sounds good to Farkle. He nods, agreeing. Then Lucas gives him the lighter to do the honors, Farkle dropping down excitedly and flicking on the flame. As he lights the next fuse…

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY

Maya is looking not quite like a firecracker, good-looking as always but out of her element in the outfit Riley chose for her. She’s sporting a sleek cotton turtleneck and tight-fitting gold plaid pants that cinch at her waist. She looks good, it’s just not what she would’ve envisioned. She frowns slightly as she nitpicks at her reflection, telling Riley to hurry up in the restroom. She wants to see her grand vision in action.

And see it she does. Riley emerges from the bathroom, dressed in a black Bardot dress with an open back and exposed skin on her torso where the chest of the dress cinches into a delicate bow. Maya has paired the look with tie-up knee-high boots. To be blunt, she looks hot as hell, but it’s way bolder than Riley would ever be on her own. She doesn’t quite know how to carry herself in it, making herself smaller as she comes to stand in front of the full-length mirror with Maya.

Maya, whistling: Now that’s what I’m talking about, Riles. Bang bang.

Riley: I don’t know. It feels a little… I mean, don’t you think --

Maya: What I think is that if you carry yourself properly, you’ll look slamming.

She makes subtle adjustments to Riley’s posture in the mirror -- standing up straight, lifting her chin, taking a power stance rather than trying to remain unassuming. And to her credit, Maya is right. Riley does look awesome, especially when she holds herself the way she should. And it still feels like her, too, somehow. Just Riley Matthews with the volume turned up. Maya grins at their reflection, proud of her work.

Maya: You’ve got this in you all the time -- every woman does. It’s part of our natural superior power. Maybe it’s time to let this you take control for a while.

Maybe Maya, scarily, has a point… and she does look damn good…

Maya: You know, rather than being a doormat who defers to everyone else all the time. Just an idea. Especially when you look hot!

Okay, less encouraging. Riley shoots her a glare at that comment, but even when Maya walks away her point remains. Riley contemplates, looking at her empowered reflection.

EXT. SKATE PARK - DAY

Asher arrives at the skate park, finding Isadora sitting on the concrete benches. He plops down next to her with a greeting, asking why she’s just there by herself. Isadora shrugs like it’s no big deal, claiming she wanted to set Dylan free for a bit to have fun on his own terms. She doesn’t mind. It’s fun to just watch him.

And he clearly is having fun. He’s laughing with other skaters and working out some tricks of his own, bright and social as ever. When he does a kick-flip and lands it with a flourish, Isadora comments that he’s gotten really good at skating.

Asher: Yeah. Wasn’t always though. First time he brought me here, he basically face-planted and I had to patch up his wounds.

Isadora: Well, that’s why you’re good together, isn’t it? Balancing each other out.

Asher: Guess so. Friends are like that, too, though. Patch you up when you fall.

Yeah, if they’ve proven anything this week, it would be that. Isadora meets his eyes, offering a small smile that he easily returns. Grateful for his time and effort, even if she doesn’t have the words to articulate it. Asher isn’t going to push her, not one for big emotional speeches either.

And thankfully, they have the best distraction there is to focus on instead. Dylan preps to ride the half-pipe, looking over his shoulder and spotting the two of them. He notices that Asher has joined them, grinning wider. He blows a kiss towards them, then tips off the side and into the rush of the ride.

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

It’s Saturday night, and Zay’s final performance in West Side Story. He’s backstage getting ready when Yindra and Nigel are allowed backstage to visit, exchanging cool nods with a couple of the other performers before rushing over to him. Nigel asks Zay for a big favor, to which he raises his eyebrows.

Zay: Depends. How big is this favor?

Nigel: … so the techies are here tonight, and Jade is with them, but she said she’d be just as happy sitting with me and Yindra. So then I mentioned how you took us backstage the other day, and how cool that was, and then I said maybe you could do the same for her. At least to see the costumes. Man, if I could get Jade back here to see actual Broadway --

Yindra, helpfully: Off-Broadway…

Nigel: -- level costumes, she would think it was so cool. Please, can she come backstage after the show? Please. Please?

Zay: Alright, alright! You can bring her back here, Shakespeare-in-love. You’ll just have to wait until we’re done with post-show notes so I can say bye to everyone.

Nigel lightly pumps his fist. Score. Yindra shakes her head at his ridiculousness, obviously well used to his Jade-related monologues by now.

Suddenly, the director flurries into the dressing room in a full state. When the actors ask what the hell is wrong, she informs them that their Tony has succumbed to his illness. He’s not going to be able to make the show.

Actor 1: Succumbed? Is he dead?

Actor 2: His cold? He’s been working through it all week!

Director: Yes, well, now it’s pneumonia. Our Tony has pneumonia, his understudy is out of state, and we are royally fucked.

Yindra, under her breath: That’s what happens when you don’t let yourself recover...

For a moment, there’s the electricity of opportunity in the air as Zay thinks fast. Then he steps forward, stating confidently that he can do it. He can do the Tony role. Yindra and Nigel gape at him, stunned and amazed.

The director starts asking questions, like who will do his role and how he’ll do an entirely new part in one night. Zay’s more than prepared, firing back answers.

Zay: I’ve been studying his rehearsals, I know all the blocking. I can do the singing and dancing in my sleep, and you know I’ve got the range. My understudy is here, so he can just step into the Riff role.

The director considers this, torn between conventionality and truly desperate straits. Zay appeals to her ethos, coming across as stable and capable as he can.

Zay: I can do this. I can play the role.

An endless moment of tension, of uncertainty. Then the director caves, agreeing to the change and instructing Zay to go to costuming fast and get suited up for Tony. They’ll have to make some last-minute tailoring adjustments, but nothing they can’t pull off in the next thirty minutes. Thank God for simple male costuming. Everyone else, warm ups in the green room in five minutes!

The moment she’s gone, Zay turns back to Nigel and Yindra with palpable excitement on his face. They jostle him enthusiastically, lowkey screaming at this turn of events. Zay is about to headline his first Off-Broadway show!

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

In contrast to the high energy of the West Side theater, the Adams auditorium is peaceful. Makes sense, since it’s a Saturday night and school doesn’t open until Monday. The lights are down, only one set of lights on above the stage where Eric is sitting. He’s comfortably on an acting block, looking out at the quiet house and sipping from one of his office mugs.

Unsurprisingly, Jack makes his way onto the stage a few moments later. He raises his eyebrows at seeing Eric already there, but he can’t help but smile.

Jack: I thought we agreed we weren’t coming in this weekend.

Eric: Yeah, and I’m a liar. I caved.

Jack: Well, I’m here too, aren’t I? I just wanted to come in on the offensive.

Eric smiles, patting the acting block set up next to him. Jack walks over, settling down onto the block and releasing a sigh. He soaks in the plaintive quiet for a moment, commenting how different it’ll feel on Monday when the students return. Instances of quiet like this are pretty rare, in this land. The calm before the storm, in a sense.

At least, Eric claims, this year isn’t likely to be the hurricane last year was. And they’re better prepared, now, and they’ve got their school in tip-top shape after this week. They’ve done the work. The kids have done the work. They’re ready now, for what happens next.

Jack chooses to believe he’s right, even with the impending threats that might descend upon their peace come Monday. They joke about how they’re both there bracing for the worst anyway, but Eric points out it’s not just that. He likes coming in just to spend time there, like Stockholm Syndrome almost. Adams, in some ways, is their baby. Especially in the last few years, it’s been something they’ve raised from the ground up to be better. Just like their students.

Jack: And amazingly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. [ raising his thermos ] Partner.

Eric smiles. Even if other aspects of their relationship are murky, that’s something. Partner… he could get used to partner.

Eric clinks his mug against Jack’s thermos, as Zay’s vocals and the orchestral underscore of West Side Story gently floats in...

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Somewhere” as performed by West Side Story Original Cast Recording || Performed by Zay Babineaux & Charlie Gardner

We’re in the second act of the show, Zay obviously killing his first and last stint as Tony. He sings expressively as always, emotive and strong. He has decent chemistry with his co-star as well, especially for only jumping into the role on the fly that night.

In the audience, over the course of the first verse, we see plenty of familiar faces in the audience as Riley planned. She’s sitting next to Lucas, and down the line from him are the rest of the techies, Isadora nestled between him and Dylan. Farkle and Maya are present as well. Jade is sitting next to Nigel, leaning over to whisper something in his ear. Yindra eyes them from Nigel’s other side, amused.

Then, in the back of the house, there’s Charlie. There after all, but hidden away. He’s standing in the wing of the doors to the atrium, though it seems as though he wasn’t hiding there the whole show. He watches Zay perform wistfully, that usual mixture of awe and pride in his features, but it’s cut with melancholy now.

Then, as the Maria verse starts, it’s not Zay’s co-star singing, but Charlie instead. On stage, it’s not the actual performance but the two of them under the soft lights, sharing the duet with more chemistry and far more emotion than the original duo could ever have. On the line “hold my hand and we’re halfway there,” Charlie and Zay lightly press their palms together, before sliding their fingers together and clasping their hands.

We'll find a new way of living, We'll find a way of forgiving…

But that’s not reality. It’s a nice dream, wishful really, but as apt as the lyrics are, it’s not the truth. Charlie blinks the wetness from his eyes, turning and escaping the theater.

EXT. WEST SIDE THEATER - NIGHT

Charlie pushes into the breezy summer night, letting out an exhale. He stands frozen for a moment, torn over going back in to see it through to the end…

But he can’t. It’s over now. What’s done is done. Charlie stuffs his hands in his pockets and starts down the street, pointedly alone in the Manhattan evening. The orchestra plays him off as we watch him get further and further away…

INT. WEST SIDE THEATER - ATRIUM - NIGHT

Zay, on the other hand, is surrounded by company as he gathers with spectators after the performance. He’s clutching flowers from his family as the director lauds his talents to DONNA BABINEAUX, OMAR BABINEAUX, and JADA BABINEAUX. She states he’s a life-saving performer, totally saved the show tonight, and he knows her number for when he’s ready to jump back on the stage. Talk about a helpful connection!

After she flutters off, Donna pulls Zay into a hug and tells him how incredibly proud she is. Omar echoes the sentiment. Jada playfully elbows him and then ruffles his hair, to his complaints, saying she can’t let his head get too big, now. Might have to take a pin to it and let out some of the hot air.

They release him to go greet his adoring fans -- that is to say, his friends. He fields compliments as he goes, finding his way to Riley, Lucas, Dylan, and Asher first. Riley gives him a tight embrace, saying he was amazing and talking about how cool it was to see him play Tony. I mean, the leading role!

Zay: Gotta say, I’m amazed you’re here, Friar. Didn’t think Riley had that much power.

Riley, cheekily: Well, you shouldn’t doubt my influence.

Lucas: [ rolling his eyes ] You can take my presence as the highest compliment.

Zay: Sure…

Dylan: You know, I always knew you’d make a great Tony.

Zay: No kidding?

Dylan: Oh, yeah. Just this tingle I got. Between us here [ leaning in conspiratorially ] I’m kind of a little bit psychic.

Zay: Nooo kidding…

Asher grins, leaning into Dylan’s side. He commends Zay again for his stellar performance, giving him an out to escape the conversation. Zay nods gratefully -- for more than just the compliment -- sliding past them and spotting the person he wants to speak with next.

Isadora is standing between Farkle and Maya’s crowd and the rest of the A class congregation, but somehow she still comes off isolated. Zay saunters over to join her, making a light joke about how she’s emerged from her hibernation and it’s good to see her again. Isadora manages to laugh along, then congratulates him on a good performance. Before he can respond, she blurts out an addition.

Isadora: She would’ve been here. [ a beat ] My mom. She was going to move to New York, and she… she wanted to know my friends. Wanted to support young talent -- she knew it when she saw it. She would’ve been here.

Zay lets her express the rushed sentiment, then nods appreciatively, before finding the best thing to say in response. He smiles lightly.

Zay: I’m glad you are.

It’s a layered statement. Glad she’s there at all, glad she could be there when her mother couldn’t, emphasizing that her presence matters just as much if not more than her starlet mother’s would’ve. It lands for Isadora, who manages a grateful smile in return.

Zay lets her go, slipping into the A class conversation as they’re in the midst of it. Yindra, Nigel, and Jade greet him enthusiastically, HALEY FISHER and CLARISSA CRUZ waiting for their chance to give him sincere congratulations. It’s so cool, one of them really being up there! And of course, it would be Zay Babineaux.

Unfortunately, though, he picked the worst time to slide into the discussion. They’re actively discussing Charlie, only the mystery has gotten weirder.

Clarissa: No, he literally was here. Like, he sat with us all through Act 1.

Haley: Yeah, he got up in the middle of Act 2, said he had to get some fresh air. Then he never came back. I’ve tried texting him, but he’s not answering.

Clarissa: It was weird, even for Charlie.

Yindra: I swear, that boy is a whole ass enigma for someone who tries to be so intentionally vanilla.

Maybe so, Yindra. Maybe so. It’s clear that Zay doesn’t know how to process this information. The fact that Charlie was there, that he came at all… but then apparently walked right out halfway through. And on the night he was playing Tony, the night where his performance was truly something special.

Either way, it certainly takes the wind out from under his wings.

INT. ERIC’S APARTMENT - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Isadora and Farkle walk into her bedroom, which is now considerably tidier than the last time we saw it — Asher clearly followed through with his suggestion of cleaning it. Farkle flops down onto the bed, familiar and comfortable with the environment after a summer of visiting. Isadora takes a seat by her desk, spinning the chair around to face Farkle. They briefly discuss how good Zay was in the show, before Farkle turns the focus to Isadora.

Farkle: So how was your big week?

Isadora: Good, actually. I’ve learned that I need to get back onto the skateboard.

A confusing statement for somebody without context. Farkle props himself up on his elbows and frowns at her.

Farkle: I didn’t know you skated.

Isadora: Oh, I don’t. Not at all.

Farkle watches her with amused bewilderment, glad to see her more upbeat and happy. There’s a soft fondness to his expression, which Isadora catches and squirms at.

Isadora: Stop looking at me like that.

Farkle: Like what?

Isadora: I don’t know. Like... like how Maya looked at my mom.

Farkle snorts at that, sitting up properly now.

Farkle: Nobody will ever look at somebody with as much love and adoration as Maya looked at Valerie.

Isadora looks at Farkle blankly, processing what he just said. She scoffs, but sounds vulnerable when she speaks again.

Isadora: You make it sound like you love me. Or something.

Shock flashes across Farkle’s face for a moment, before he smiles and rolls his eyes casually.

Farkle: Of course I love you, you’re one of my best friends. Pretty stupid question for a genius to ask.

To break the heaviness, Farkle reaches to spin Isadora’s desk chair, making her laugh. She grabs a book off her desk and throws it at him in retaliation, which he just dodges with a yelp.

Farkle: [ shaking his head ] Is this the way you treat your best friends? I understand why Lucas is angry all the time now.

Isadora: Shut up, Icarus.

They look at each other with matching goofy smiles, before Farkle surprises Isadora by launching one of the ratty old stuffed animals on her bed at her. She bursts out laughing as she picks up another book as her weapon of choice.

INT. CHUBBIES - NIGHT

Riley, Lucas, Dylan and Asher have regrouped at Chubbies, able to be there late at night thanks to Lucas’s access to the keys. They’re sitting by couple in the usual booth, chatting about the final week and splitting milkshakes. Even though she won’t be back at school for the first day to avoid the hectic energy, overall, the boys declare their efforts with Isadora a massive success.

Lucas: Well done, spaghetti and pickle.

Dylan: Aye, aye.

Riley grins at them, then takes a moment to speak. She claims they have no idea what the coming year is going to be, but they’ve got each other. And she has this feeling, faith maybe, that it’s going to be good. Really good. Dylan nods in approval, and Lucas too, though his perspective is a little less rosy.

Lucas: Don’t see how it could be any worse than everything else we’ve already endured.

Asher: [ rolling his eyes, to Riley and Lucas ] You two really are the epitome of glass half-full, half-empty.

Lucas shrugs, maintaining his unimpressed expression. Riley beams brighter, leaning closer to him and nudging his side. That, he can’t help but crack a smile at. Then she raises the milkshake glass, lightly, and proclaims a toast.

Riley: To us, and our last summer.

Dylan: And the beginning of the rest of our lives.

I’ll cheers to that! Asher and Riley clink the glasses together.

INT. AAA - HALLWAYS - DAY

And just like that, it’s back to Triple A! Dave Williams and NICK YOGI do their usual routine of wishing us an enthusiastic welcome back to AAA on behalf of the A/V club, which they’re truly resurrecting this year. The mood is nowhere near as somber as the previous year, excitement palpable in the halls for the senior A class.

Dave: We’re back, thotties, for senior year.

Yogi: Something that is essentially guaranteed to be a wild ride.

Dave: We’re bigger. We’re better. We’re feral in the looming shadow of great change.

Yogi: It can only be batshit, especially now that the A class is in charge.

Dave: Can’t wait to see what happens!

Me either, Dave. Me either. We’re on the move, Dave and Yogi jogging past Maya at her locker to go get more footage.

She’s dressed in the Riley-chosen outfit, although she did her best to glam it up by adding a beret to the look and making her blonde locks pin-straight. DARBY WINTERS and SARAH CARLSON approach her, the former eagerly giving her a hug and saying it’s good to see her again. She missed her this summer! Sarah focuses on her outfit, snorting.

Sarah: Who picked your outfit, Hart? Sherlock Holmes?

Maya: [ with a flip of her hair ] I’m a woman of my word, Carlson, and that’s all you need to know. Besides, I’m going for a little bit of a Euro-flair.

Darby: I think it looks great.

Maya: You’re so sweet, Darbs. Misguided, but sweet.

Down the hall, Riley is attempting to adjust to her new look as well. She shrugs off her denim jacket with florals painted on the back that she used to get out of the house without being killed by Cory, obviously nervous about sporting this sleek look.

It’s impossible not to look at her though -- especially for Lucas James Friar. He comes to join her, slowing his approach when he sees the way she’s dressed. His eyebrows shoot up.

Lucas: Wow.

Riley: I know. It’s so… ah. [ making a face ] And I had to basically smuggle myself out of the house, but Maya said I can only wear my jacket when there’s a chance my dad will see, even though I look so, like…

Lucas: No, no, I didn’t mean -- it’s not bad. It looks, uh… you look good.

Riley, hopeful: … really?

Lucas: Yes. Yeah. [ clearing his throat ] I was kind of hoping to go through my life not owing Maya Hart for anything, but…

Oh. Well that’s a very different kind of “wow.” Lucas subtly looks her over again, tentatively resting his hand on her waist. Riley regains some of that confidence she had in the mirror from his approval, biting back a smile. It seems like he might lean closer to kiss her…

When they’re interrupted, Farkle oblivious to their romantic tension as he sidles up on Riley’s other side and greets them pointedly. Lucas retracts his hand and swallows his cocktail of emotions, cutting a glare at Farkle. Riley is more friendly as she returns his greeting, spinning to face him with a smile.

Riley: You seem like you’re in better spirits.

Farkle: Let’s just say I found a way to… let off some steam.

Farkle and Lucas exchange a knowing look. It goes over Riley’s head, who is distracted when Zay wanders over to join their little grouping.

Riley: There he is! Our A class celebrity.

Zay: Riley, please, no dramatics. [ grinning ] But you’re not wrong. Though I’m not the one dressed like one. Damn, Miss M. Where has this been for the last three years?

Riley preens a bit, obviously pleased with the praise of her friends. Though Zay claims he’s got some new bling as well, showing off his new Adams class ring. It’s gold-banded, with his birthstone nestled in the center, a regal red ruby. He also explains that his initials are inscribed on the inside. Riley loves it, but again he defers and states she is the looker today.

Maya: And I’ll take credit for that, thank you very much.

Maya joins them, coming to stand with Farkle and completing their little gathering. It’s insane, honestly, seeing them all interact casually and mostly amicably. Maya brings the conversation back around to the point Dave and Yogi made upon our return -- it’s their school now, bitches.

It’s an empowering thought… for a moment. Their idealized comeback is disrupted by a few underclassmen rushing through the halls, making an eerie yet somewhat excited declaration. She’s coming! She’s here!

The seniors exchange bewildered looks, but they don’t have to wait long for clarity. A reminder of that new factor they almost blissfully forgot makes itself known in the most bombastic way possible. As the opening horns blare…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Confident” as performed by Demi Lovato || Performed by Missy Bradford

Oh, that’s right. She’s here. MISSY BRADFORD is back, as rich, alluring, and privileged as ever. She looks essentially the same as when we last saw her, only her hair is cut to her shoulders now -- though still equally luscious. We pan up from her heeled boots and over her expensive ensemble until she launches into the number, coming in to conquer.

And, to be fair, she’s a decent performer. She’s no diva in terms of talent, but her personality and assertiveness make up for the skill she lacks. She tears up the scenery and messes with underclassmen as she marches on, pulling some in as back-up dancers and simply flirting with other male students.

Our crew of seniors are less won over, still remembering the circus that got her into the school in the first place. A shot hangs on their reactions during the number, a combination of disdain, apprehension, and affront. Lucas is definitely unenthused. Zay and Riley look particularly disturbed, while Maya cocks her head and assesses this new bitch who might think she has a chance of being a threat.

Even so, a banging performance is a banging performance. Ah, to be back at AAA…

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Missy isn’t the only new face arriving at Adams on that last first day. Jack and Eric are waiting in the atrium to greet their new coworker. Jack is shifting nervously, Eric reaching out and touching his shoulder to keep him from jittering so much.

Eric: You’re making me seasick.

Jack glares at him, but only after he glances at his hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t get the chance to respond, their guests arriving at exactly that moment. EVELYN RAND, looking professional but unique as always in a fun colorful pantsuit, grins as she makes her entrance with a fellow school board employee in tow. She greets both of them with light embraces, stating it’s always a pleasure to see them.

Then, she introduces their new colleague, HARRISON YANCY. He’s a large, sharply dressed man in his 70s, exuding traditional authority. He shakes their hands, but doesn’t offer the warmth that their boss Evelyn does. As she explains it, he’ll be joining them as an administrative consultant of sorts, monitoring the school for the year to see how things go.

Yes, that is exactly what they don’t want… but nothing to be done about it now. Eric takes control once the introductions are done, charm up as high as he can turn it.

Yancy: Quite a fine institution you have here.

Eric: We know, and we take it’s maintenance quite seriously. And you haven’t seen the best of it -- all you had the pleasure of seeing was this lovely atrium and our lecture hall. Please, allow me to give you both a quick tour. I know you’ve already seen it, Evelyn…

Evelyn: Oh, I never pass up a good tour. Lead the way, Eric. I do hope we get to see the cafeteria. I heard about that renovation you all were planning for the mosaic tiles on the wall, and I’ve been dying of curiosity…

Eric kicks off their walkabout, Yancy examining everything with a critical eye while Evelyn keeps up lively chatter. Eric glances over his shoulder before they disappear from sight, shooting Jack a reassuring thumbs up.

Well, no turning back now. Jack releases a sigh, returning back to the front office.

Riley, pre-lap: This place is insane. How do you keep everything in order like this?

INT. AAA - PROP LOFT - DAY

Riley is up in the prop loft with Asher, who is starting his first day inventory and tidying up. Not that anything would’ve even moved over the summer, but still, he does what he needs to do. He’s meticulously arranging while Riley meanders the shelves, actually getting a good look at the props on display.

Asher: I take my position seriously, that’s how. With effort comes organization, and with organization comes control. And when things are in control, then nothing can go wrong.

Riley: That’s a nice idea. Triple A could use some control.

Asher: If the prop loft wants to descend into disarray, it can do it when I’m dead.

Well, or like, graduated. Riley smiles, shaking her head. She focuses back on the shelves, raising her eyebrows at a sticky note stuck to the cubbyhole of one of the more sizable props. It’s not in Asher’s handwriting like most of them, instead scribbled in Dylan’s messy chicken scratch.

FRAGILE!! Treat her with respect or bear the fury of Asher Lupe Garcia!!!! AND SATAN!!

The prop under such divine protection is a clock, ornate and beautifully carved but obviously delicate. The attention to detail is astounding, and it’s clearly cared for with a lot of love.

Riley: I didn’t realize you all had Satan on speed dial.

Asher looks at her like what the fuck, until he sees what she’s looking at. He rolls his eyes playfully, coming over to join her.

Asher: It’s my favorite prop. Has been since I got here, but we haven’t had a production that it would fit. Guess that’s for the best, since it’s pretty fragile -- hence the warning.

Riley: Yes, Dylan clearly has strong feelings about its protection.

Asher: Yeah, but I’m sure you can guess who almost accidentally broke it first…

Though the comment isn’t exactly complimentary, Asher is smiling fondly as he reads over Dylan’s note again. Then he focuses on the clock, explaining that he tries his best to keep it in shape. That includes keeping the hands functional, which he does by gently pushing the hands counterclockwise back towards the 3.

He has this thing about where the hands are. He never lets them get too close to striking 12. It just started as a habit somewhere in freshman year, but now it’s kind of like a sacred ritual.

Riley, amused: I thought you weren’t superstitious.

Asher: I’m not! [ off her giggle ] This is OCD, not mythos.

Maybe so, but there might be some subconscious reasoning too that he hasn’t taken the time to unpack. And he won’t be doing so today either. Riley lets it go, lightly nudging the hands further backwards in time while Asher goes back to work.

EXT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

Time is of no concern to Maya, who is sprawled on top of one of the outdoor lunch tables. She’s leaning back on her palms, tilting her head up to absorb the sunshine before they go back into the school for a full day of AAA chaos. Farkle is seated on the bench below her, checking his watch intermittently to make sure they don’t miss class.

He claims it’s weird without Isadora there, to which she responds that now he knows how weird it was when he was gone after his attempt. It’s not right when one of them isn’t there -- they make up AAA, you know. Their personalities. It’s a pretty sentimental comment for Maya Hart, but she breezes past it a moment later.

Maya: Besides, she made the right move ditching today. If Bradford’s little display was any indication, we’re in for a chaotic year. Better for her to take the extra day to prepare for it, maybe the rest of us will simmer down after the first day buzz.

Farkle agrees. He asks what she thought about Missy, like if they should be concerned, but Maya simply scoffs. She is not concerned about that privileged vixen. Maya has been the top bitch at AAA, in their class, for three years.

Maya: No old-money spoiled brat is going to swoop in and take that away. She can try -- but she’ll fail.

Here’s the bottom line: this is their year, for real this time. She may have been displaced emotionally last year, with his whole thing and her mom being relocated -- who she misses terribly, despite how aloof she’s acting about the whole thing -- but this year they’re stronger than that. It’s their turf, Farkle, and it’s their year.

Maya: Mark my words, Farkle --

Farkle: You sure do have a lot of them…

Maya: This year belongs to us. And you and I? We’re going to get everything we want.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The A class assembles for their first performance lab of senior year, cheerful greetings and hugs being exchanged for those who haven’t had the chance to catch up yet.

Zay is up on stage with HARPER BURGESS, the latter complimenting him once again on an excellent show in West Side Story. She knew he had it in him. He’s clearly grateful for the belief, reminding her that he wouldn’t have found out about the opportunity if it weren’t for her. He thanks her for looking out for him. She pats his shoulder, nodding him back down to the seats.

Then she gathers the class, welcoming them back for their senior year. She can feel their excitement even from up on stage. SHAWN HUNTER jogs on stage to join her, but lets her stay in control, having finally figured out their co-teaching balance.

After pointing out that they have old and new faces joining them this year -- a few glances cutting to Missy seated contently on her own in their midst, unbothered -- Harper goes on to explain what the year is going to be like. There’s a lot in store for them this year, and it’s going to be full of hard work. The senior showdown, college applications, emotional highs and lows… but it’s going to be fun too. And enriching, full of growth, as every year at AAA is. There’s very little doubt about that.

As she starts to discuss performances, Maya raises her hand, though she doesn’t wait to be addressed. She happily declares that she and Farkle have actually prepared something for the first performance of the year, so no need to ask for volunteers. They’ve got it covered.

Nate: No one asked.

Actually, Harper starts, they already have someone performing first. That’s what she was just about to explain. This student requested the opportunity to come back with a flourish, since she’s got a lot of catching up to do. Maya is stunned, wondering who already undercut her senior year triumphs.

And she doesn’t wait long to find out. The moment Harper vacates the stage, the jaunty orchestration starts, and suddenly a powerful mezzo soprano voice is filling the auditorium.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Anything Goes / Anything You Can Do” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Chai Fresco

A set piece turns to reveal CHAI FRESCO, back from her year abroad in London. She’s bolder, blonder, and delivers a stunningly strong rendition of the selected mash-up. For someone who effectively blended into the background for all of sophomore year, enough to pull off what she did, she must have been holding back a lot.

Because she’s good. Damn good, delivering the message the performance signals loud and clear. Anything you can do, I can do better…

In the audience, the A class is watching in dumbstruck shock. Some people, like the techies, clearly forgot Chai existed. But for the performers -- especially the divas, like Zay, Farkle, and Maya -- her return is a loud and unwanted wake-up call. Just because they’re all chummy now, there’s still competition, now more than ever before. They take the vocals that argue with Chai about whether or not she can outshine them.

And in this moment, she does. She throws her arms out wide and delivers the final resounding notes, shattering the finale. Maya, Farkle, and Zay stare at her with their mouths dropped open. Riley grimaces, knowing this can only mean drama. Next to her, Lucas tries to hide a laugh behind his hand.

Now we’re really back. As for what this year holds, well, we obviously can’t get too comfortable.

Anything goes!

END OF EPISODE.

#S3 #episodes #301 #AND WE'RE BACK!

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mee-the-people · 3 years

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SISTAR: How the Kpop Queens of Summer Stay ‘So Cool’ 4 Years After Disbandment

Summer 2021 marks another summer without a SISTAR comeback. As every SISTAR fan, (and hopefully every KPOP fan knows) SISTAR disbanded in May 2017, after releasing their final EP Lonely. I only really got into KPOP in 2018, so I discovered SISTAR much later, but when I heard their 2013 summer hit, Give It To Me, I knew I was going to be dragged into the rabbit hole that is SISTAR’s discography. I loved everything about that era… as a fashion enthusiast and someone with a background in dance, I always look at the WHOLE era, as well as the song, of course, when I’m making my assessment of a KPOP era. That’s what I did first with SISTAR’s Give It To Me.

GITM gives the audience a Moulin Rouge vibe, which I thought was so unique when I first watched the MV and stage performances. That’s one of the things I always loved about the original “summer queens” themselves, SISTAR- their summer concepts were always fresh, original, and unique. It’s easy to think that there’s only so many summer concepts/ideas a group can pull off or when people think of summer concepts, they only think of songs with beachy vibes. But SISTAR pulled off a number of (always classy) sexy, summer concepts- whether it was the flirty, retro theme that Shake It bought upon us in Summer 2015 or the mature, sophisticated theme that was presented by I Like That in Summer 2016. (One of my favorite SISTAR eras overall!)

Shake It reminds me of the “comic book aesthetic” with the bright, flashy colors and the bold-lettered art themes. There’s a minor storyline in the MV, which adds to the songs charm and definitely “feels” like a retro summer, although I couldn’t get over the fact that this song doesn’t really have a bridge or substantial verses. I think this song is simply meant to be fun and not a song where you think too deeply about the lyrics, so in that way, this song excels, because it’s incredibly catchy and whenever it comes on my playlist, its upbeat rhythms always give me a boost of happy.

Like GITM, I Like That is one of my absolute favorite SISTAR eras. The song, choreography (which seemed more complex compared to their previous era dance routines), outfits, and concept in general were unique and unlike anything they had done previously. I also really liked the lyrics in this song, because even though it’s about finding out about a cheating boyfriend, instead of just blaming the douch-y boyfriend, SISTAR blames themselves for thinking that they can “change him,” (A concept that every woman, including myself, has thought in regards to a man… moral of the story: don’t fall in love with potential! But I digress…) which is actually a self-aware twist to something that’s (unfortunately) so common in relationships.

One of the things about I Like That that I liked (😊) is how they made use of props in the most effective and efficient ways in both the MV and the stage performances. There’s something to be said about props being used properly- in my opinion, if you choose to have props in your stage performances, it kind of makes or breaks the performance, because if those props are just a waste of space, it will show. Luckily for SISTAR, they not only used props to enhance the performance, but they made sure to have control over the setting and not the other way around. I especially liked how they used their long flowing skirts as curtains, making it part of their routine, and the stage props (as well as the MV props) didn’t feel too close together or “tight,” adding to the song’s glamour.

Despite all of the good things I Like That had to offer, my only complaint is that member Bora didn’t get enough of a rap verse. With most K-pop songs, l normally don’t think the rap goes with the song, but in I Like That, I thought Bora’s verse actually went with the song, so I wish she had gotten another rap verse in place of the somewhat awkward bridge (“I’m so fine, I’m so fine…”) that seems out of place compared to the melody and rhythms of the song.

If we’re talking about “conventional summer themes,” I would say Touch My Body and Loving U would be the most “summer-y” when it comes to the traditional K-Pop summer concept, but even when they went the conventional summer route, SISTAR stayed true to their unique group flair. Even though the navy crop top and floral print shorts from the Touch My Body era is an ensemble that you could probably buy at Target, it’s still an iconic outfit and one of the stage outfits I think of when I think of SISTAR. 2012 summer splash Loving U is certainly a bop and the outfits from that era seem like laid-back and casual summer outfits that you would wear to the beach or to an amusement park. In terms of the song, it’s a good song if you’re looking for a light pop song, but it’s not on my top 5 list of favorite SISTAR songs.

By this point, I knew I was a fan, and as I was discovering more of SISTAR’s songs, I came across their debut song from 2010 called Push Push. It’s a catchy enough, electro-pop song, which is decent, but if that was the first SISTAR song I listened to and not Give It To Me, it may have taken me longer to get into SISTAR’s music. There wasn’t a discernible “concept” surrounding Push Push, so it’s hard to really place it on the same level as some of their other summer jams. I will say that one of their live performances of this song was at an amusement park (which you can easily find on YouTube), and that was a cool aesthetic and it must have been a fun experience for the girls.

A song that’s less popular, but still one of my favorite SISTAR songs is 2010’s Shady Girl. It received moderate success when it was released in August 2010, and SISTAR were still a “rookie group” at this time. (It had only been 2 months since they debuted in the industry at this point!) I thought the flight attendant theme was a little cliché, but the outfits were still on point. Most SISTAR choreography is fairly easy, and Shady Girl is no exception. This era is still one of my favorites, despite the fact that they went the conventional route and it wasn’t really the “sexy summer” theme that SISTAR are known for; however, I think because this group was still trying to find their footing in the Korean entertainment industry as rookies, this concept tended to be “safer” than some of their other concepts.

And of course, the song that put SISTAR on the map and defined their superstar status was none other than 2011’s So Cool. So Cool is a dance-pop tune that stayed in the Top 10 for 5 consecutive weeks and was the first number one single by this group. If you watch the music video and the stage performances, you’ll notice that the choreography in the music video is different from the stage performances, because of a dance move in the MV that was deemed inappropriate in South Korea’s conservative society; hence the slight choreography change for the stage performances. I like the general idea behind the lyrics of the song- that idea being the way to get revenge on a horrible ex-boyfriend is to look amazing (which they do! I love ALL of their stage outfits during this era…) and to remind yourself that you’re “too cool” to waste your time being sad over him. So, in a way, I like the sexy, empowering theme behind this song; however, while the song is catchy, it is easy to get tired of after a few listens.

Spring 2012 brought Alone upon us. Although this comeback was not during the summer (obviously), it was different than what SISTAR had previously done up until this point, and when I discovered this song, I was here for it. The black and red combo for the concept pictures really suited the vibe that the song gave. Alone is a ballad that talks about heartbreak and the feelings of loneliness that you experience afterwards, which is not only real, but it is also a universal feeling that anyone can understand and relate to. While I liked the outfits during this era, I thought they were purposely made “plainer” to emphasize the jewelry, which is a fashion statement in and of itself.

One of the things about SISTAR that I find so admirable is that they were able to hold their own against artists from the “Big 3 Companies.” Any K-Pop fan knows that if a group hails from SM, JYP, or YG, that group is almost guaranteed to be successful in the K-Pop industry, because of the resources, connections, budget, and experience that the CEOs of these Big 3 Companies have managing (successful) artists in the industry. It is a well-known fact that SISTAR is not from one of the Big 3 Companies- they were managed by a smaller company called Starship Entertainment. Even despite the fact that their success wasn’t guaranteed when they first started, they were still able to “sell the concepts” for every one of the songs that Starship churned out when comeback season came.

A girl group from a smaller company was able to, not only compete with girl groups from Big 3 Companies, they were also able to become the most streamed girl group EVER with over 1 billion streams in their 7-year career together! And not only that, they have THE MOST consecutive #1 singles by a K-Pop girl group EVER with 9 singles under their belt. Not bad for a girl group that came from a smaller entertainment company. I think it is human nature to root for the underdog, so it really speak volumes about how hard SISTAR had to have worked to compete with girl groups from the Big 3 Companies, which makes me even prouder for them when they achieved their success together.

Most K-pop fans know that summer isn’t the same without SISTAR, but going back and listening to their comebacks certainly feels like summer...

#SISTAR #summertime #KPop #summerqueens

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ellana-ravenwood · 5 years

Text

NEW PART : “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore” 2/3 - Batfam x Fem!Reader (Marvel crossover)

Well, almost two months of not writing as I really lacked the motivation to do...anything, here I am. Back, with the part two of my little Batfam/Marvel crossover ! This is a transition chapter just to settle a few things before the big final chapter where the all action will take place ;). I hope you will still like it :

If you wanna catch up, here’s PART 1 And here’s my masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

“Wow, this looks a LOT like Wayne Manor !”

Damian exclaimed as he looked down from the jet and spotted a gigantic house in the middle of the trees. Even the grounds looked like his home, with the forrest surrounding it, and it’s remote location a bit out of a big town.

The basketball court opened, and the “X-jet” slowly lowered down into it.

The guy called Wolverine absolutely refused to take one of the Avengers’ planes, saying that the S.H.I.E.L.D tracked those down, had all kind of surveillance on them, and didn’t want one of them inside the school. Too many valuable informations could be stolen and used against them.

When “Iron Man” assured him he checked those planes daily to make sure they weren’t rigged, Wolverine just raised his eyebrows, smiled and said : “Sure bub, sure. Nick Fury would totally let that happen, and your technology is definitely superior to the S.H.I.E.L.D. They most definitely do not steal and copy everything you do, and know how it works”...And they ended up taking the X-Jet.

According to your youngest sons, it looked and was much cooler anyway. Kinda reminded them of the Batplane...It made Bruce smile, that they liked the X-Men’s plane better just because it kinda looked like his.

You were landing inside a bunker like place, when Wolverine said :

“Welcome to Xavier school for gifted youngsters.”

************

A few hours before :

Shortly after Wolverine announced you needed to go see a certain “Charles Xavier”, and after a quick introduction, most of you got ready to leave.

It was decided that not all of the Avengers would go to the school because searches and investigations were always more effective when multiple groups would work in multiple places. And there were a LOT of those dudes, so they could most definitely cover more grounds by scattering all around, and asking questions.

You absolutely refused to be separated from your family again, and even if Bruce thought it would’ve been better to split up and each go with a search team, he didn’t push it too much.

Obviously, none of the kids wanted to be separated either, and when you had an idea in your head, it was very difficult to change your mind. You’ve always been a very stubborn woman.

So Bruce relented and it was decided you’d all go to the Xavier school, as you were the one that knew Klarion the most, and could help Charles to narrow his search down a bit.

With you came Wolverine, Nightcrawler and Storm of course, the Xavier school was their home after all. Along also came that Captain America guy, Iron Man, Spider-Man and Thor.

Hawkeye, Black Widow, the big green guy and a few other Avengers you could not remember the name of for the life of you (there were so many new people ! Even with your “charity” practice, where you often faked remembering people’s name, you just couldn’t keep up...it didn’t help that they obviously all had code names rather than simple easy to remember ones like... “Kevin”, for example. Or John. John was good, short and easy to remember) left for other places where the trail was still warm.

And so multiple “teams” were formed to cover multiple grounds.

Your family and a few others were going to the school in the hope that Charles Xavier could find Klarion thanks to his mental powers, while other teams would go investigate the Brooklyn Bridge where Klarion was last seen, and yet another team was going to find a certain “Dr Strange” since he was apparently able to travel through dimensions or something ?

You weren’t too sure, honestly, after hearing so many new infos and names you kinda zoned out and expected Bruce to remember everything for you (as often, really, more than once he was the one to help you remember the name of a politician or actress, whispering it in your ear as they walked towards you).

As you were in an elevator that would lead you all to the roof’s airport so you could go and try to find Klarion, Dick bended to whisper in your ear :

“Do you remember any of their names ?”

You turned to him and, as discreetly as you could, answered :

“Absolutely not. Except for that Spider kid, because he’s adorable and Damian seems to like him. And the one that got Jason and I here, Deadpool. Though he’s not even here anymore. I can’t recall any of them...I think one is like, Odin or something ? The one who brought Tim, I forgot which one but I know he’s a viking god or something.”

Your son let out a little snort, trying to suppress his chuckle so none of the people can hear you, but...

“I wouldn’t blame ya if you can’t remember many of us. After all, travelin’ in another dimension and seeing all those new things is a lot to take in, I know what I’m talkin’ about. So rememberin’ our names ? Tough.”

The short man who made you blush earlier said. He had a sort of gentle smile on his face that you’re pretty sure was rarely there, but it seemed yours and your son’s inability to remember much of anyone’s name made him genuinely smile. He adds, his voice lowering a few octave in an intimate way :

“I can help you rememberin’ in the plane if you want to.”

“I’ll help her, thank you very much.”

Your husband says, interposing himself between you and that...Badger guy ? Was that his name ?

“Logan.”

He answers the question you didn’t ask, and you’re genuinely surprised. With a charming smirk that you thought only Bruce could have, “Logan” adds :

“It was written all over your face you didn’t remember my name. And hey, I’d like for you to call me Logan more than Wolverine y’know.”

Bruce gives an outraged look to “Logan”, as you try your best not to blush (that guy had a strange kind of aura...he was essentially a hairy midget who was totally not your style and yet he seemed to have a strange effect on you).

Wolverine answered your husband’s glare with an infuriating knowing smile, and you could almost feel Bruce’s blood boiling.

It’s only Tim and Damian laughing quietly that eased the atmosphere. But their laughter most definitely finish to vex your Broosh, who threw an arm around your shoulder and looked proudly high in front of him.

Jealous Bruce always made you smile, and here, doing some PDA while on a mission ? Yup, definitely jelly.

The elevator quickly brought you to the top floor, where you discovered a rather big “airport” for such a building. Quite the fancy place. Even Bruce never even though about putting an airport on his roof. A heliport was amply sufficient.

The man called Tony Stark, who had a rather advanced armor around his body, casually walked towards one of the plane stamped with a big “A” on.

“Seriously, those people don’t know the meaning of the word “discreet””.

Your husband said as he saw the planes. You roll your eyes, but don’t say anything. You don’t think any less though, because those words were coming from a guy who had a “bat” aesthetic in everything he did, including flying vehicles so...Not particularly discreet either.

But Logan grabbed Iron Man’s shoulder before he could reach one of the “A” plane, and said :

“Ah where are you going Stark ? We’re not taking one of yours.”

Tony rolled his eyes the hardest he could, as he shooed away Logan’s hand and said, beyond exasperated :

“I’m telling you for the thousands time Logan, our Avengers planes aren’t tracked !”

“Says you. We’re still taking the X-Jet.”

“But there’s more space on our planes.”

“We’re still taking the X-Jet.”

“They’re faster !”

“We’re still taking the X-Jet.”

“I promise you they’re safe, they won’t spy on your precious little school, the S.H.I.E.L.D has no hold over our planes !”

Short silence.

“We’re still taking the X-Jet.”

“Be reasonable Wolverine please, this is getting ridiculous.”

“Bub, do I look like someone who’s reasonable ? We’re taking the X-Jet.”

“But-”

But the short hairy man known as “Wolverine” was already leaving, clearly not about to listen to more of that Stark guy’s plea.

Well apparently...you were taking the X-Jet.

************

It must’ve been less than ten minutes since your family, a few of the X-Men and a few of the Avengers climbed into the jet flying in the direction of the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, when Logan jumped on his feet, put the plane on auto-pilot and rushed at the back of the vehicle.

“The hell is wrong with that guy ?”

Jason asks as you all turn to look at him run across the plane. Your husband looks insistently at you as if to say : “see, I’m better” (like you needed a proof of that). Clearly not quite over the fact the clawed mutant managed to make you blush. Twice.

For the past fifteen years, he was the only one that ever managed to do that !

Dick says :

“Maybe the toilets are over there ? I mean, when you gotta go, you gotta go.”

But then Logan comes back with Deadpool, dragging him by the collar.

“What are you doing here Wade, I thought we told you to leave and never come back !”

“Wow alright Scar, tell your hyenas to lower their guard please I’m not here to cause trouble; honest !”

Deadpool says, his hands up as he faces the Avengers taking a fighting stance in front of him.

The man who brought you to the Avengers’ Tower was immediately kicked off of the building as soon as you all started to make plans to run after Klarion and Loki. Somehow though, and oddly enough it didn’t really surprise you, he managed to get onto the X-Jet.

“Wade, whenever you’re around trouble just comes by itself. We told you not to tag along already. Three times at the watch tower until we forcefully throw you out. So now, time to leave.”

Wolverine was opening the jet’s hatch, but before he could get a hold of “Wade”, Deadpool jumped on his feet and went to hide behind your husband.

“He’s clearly a mad man, he’s trying to kill me ! Hey, you’re very against killing right ? I read it somewhere in a comic once...”

“What ?”

“Nevermind, I’m crazy. But I deserve to live, just like everyone ! Just stop him from trying to kill me ! PLEASE GOD OH GOOOOOOOD, I’M TOO YOUNG TO DIE !! I STILL HAVEN’T SEEN ALL THE FANTASTIC BEASTS MOVIES AND I’M...TOTALLY A VIRGIN !! I’VE BEEN A FAN OF J.K ROWLING FOR DECADES, I DESERVE TO KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEEEEEEEEEEEN !! I DESERVE TO KNOW REAL LOOOOOOOOOOoooOooooOoooVE !!”

Deadpool was yelling dramatically, latching his arms around your husband’s leg.

And you had to admit, there was something comical about seeing a grown ass man holding the big scary Bat like that. Bonus point for the face Bruce was making, clearly unsure as to how to react to all of this. It was rare to see an unsure Batman.

Ah, but in the short time you’ve known that Wade Wilson, you already realized that he was probably the only person that could destabilized anyone with his behavior. You kinda liked that.

Logan was rolling his eyes now, and with a sigh walked resolutely towards Deadpool and Bruce.

But your husband stopped him by putting a hand on his chest. And though Logan was at least an entire foot smaller than Bruce, he still looked impressive as his eyes narrowed at your husband and his muscles tightened, fists slowly closing. You had a bad feeling about all this...

“Listen, bub. You have no idea what this guy is capable of. And believe me, if I throw him out of the plain he won’t-”

“I can’t let you do that. He might be clinically insane, but we can’t just kill him like that !”

“But he can’t die and-”

“YES ! YES I CAN, I’ll die a horrible death if he throws me out.”

“Wade you-”

“Please mister Batman, don’t let him throw me out ! Show that you have a heart and ignore all the bad writing you’ve been a victim of lately !”

Once again, there’s a small silence following Wade’s apparent words of madness...But you have to say, you’re not a big fan of throwing people out of planes either. So before everything turns sour, as you can see both Wolverine and Bruce getting wayyyy too tense, you interpose yourself in-between all of them.

You know that Bruce already having prejudice against Logan because he flirted a little with you is not any good news, and Wolverine himself ? Well it seemed like he also could suddenly snap if pushed too much.

“Wow wow wow wow. Let’s be reasonable about it. Yeah yeah I know, you’re not a reasonable guy. Well you’re going to be right now.”

Your words surprise the Wolverine so much, that his fists unlock and his eyebrows raise. Your husband gives him a sneaky look that most definitely means : “haha, she got you didn’t she ?”. But he’s immediately put back in his place as you glare at him too, and he relaxes as well. Forcibly.

“Ok. I must admit I don’t know Deadpool since very long, but he’s the one that lead us to the Avengers. You guys are the one that instantly attacked him without giving him any chance ! Now maybe you gave him lots of chances before -at those words, all the Avengers and X-Men nods- but just give him one last one ok ? I have a good feeling about him.”

************

You were sitting next to Deadpool...Who was literally taped to the wall. You guessed in this world, the black electric tape was very strong. According to Logan, this was the only way to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. Dangerous for everyone, or for himself.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t convince them to let you join and all.”

“Ah well no worries, at least they didn’t throw me off the plane ! I hate when that happened. Regenerating from being as flat as a pizza is very painful.”

“You can..regenerate ?”

“Yup ! Haven’t you noticed, the tear your kid made with that knife looking like a bat in my awesome costume I definitely clean often...is still there. But the wound isn’t.”

“Oh right. Neat.”

“Not really. Healing powers mean I can’t die, and I really want to die...”

“...That’s awful. Are you ok ?”

“Does someone that tell you they want to die sound ok ?”

“Well if they say out loud they want to die it’s like a cry for help, so a sort of step to recovery you know ?”

“I-Wh-...What ? I never saw it like that. I mostly just talk about it out loud because I hope someone will hear me and finish me off somehow.”

“Oh.”

After that, it seemed like Wade did not want to talk anymore as he turned away from you, and somehow managed to put on a pair of knock-off air pods in his ears, and blasted the main theme from the movie “The Godfather” so loud that you could hear it as you were sitting next to him.

************

There was a long silence that installed itself in the plane, as no one talked and thought of the task ahead, completely focused on...

“So, I have no idea what you guys’ names are. I zoned out half-way through the little man’s explanation, as I already listened to it when I found him and my friend Hulk was holding him upside down.”

Thor said casually, shattering this all impression of seriousness. It makes you chuckle, even more so when Dick exclaimed :

“OH THANKS GOD (literally) ! I was so afraid to ask ! I’m so glad you started. Because except for Logan, Ororo and Kurt who literally saved my life, I cannot remember who any of you are !”

You full on laughed, as the idea that none of you really knew how the others were called and yet still managed to trust each others was very funny to you. Quickly, your communicative laughter reached the rest of the team (well, almost, Bruce and Logan only exhaled a little bit of air, like a millisecond chuckle).

It takes you all a little while to calm down, but as you all stop to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, Thor continues :

“So, should we introduce ourselves again ? This time there’s much less of us, it should be fine. Guests must start, it is the norm. Go ahead now, little Red Robin’s sidekicks. Introduce yourselves.”

“...Red Robin’s sidekicks ?”

Your entire family turns to Tim, who turns very pale all of a sudden. He smiles awkwardly at you all and says :

“Um. To my defense, I was hung upside down by a green goliath who was threatening to “smash” me and the subject of family seemed a little iffy with Thor here. I said the first thing that came to my mind.”

This makes you and your husband smile, and your two oldest son to roll their eyes. Your youngest however, jumps on his feet and says :

“I’m Robin ! And most definitely not his sidekick ! I’m...”

There’s a pause where Damian looks at his brother almost sadly, and oh you know exactly what he’s about to do.

“I’m his brother. His equal. Or so I thought...”

Oh. Smart little Damian. Guilt tripping your Tim, so that in a near future he will do something for him. Tim reddens even more in embarrassment and adds :

“It really was just to save myself ! I don’t think of any of you as my sidekicks ! Of course you’re my equal Dam-Robin ! And um, I’m Red Robin by the way. Like the restaurants. Um.”

Thor shakes his head, lost in thoughts, and then says :

“Robin and Red Robin. Very smart. I see how much research you put in your aliases.”

You weren’t sure if the man was serious or being sarcastic...But the way he was nodding thoughtfully made you think he was actually more serious than anything else. The blond bearded man continued :

“Well my turn now ! I am...Thor ! GOD OF THUNDER ! Son of Odin, God of all. We’re going after my brother, Loki. Who befriended that Klarion of yours. Your turn again now.”

Thor points at your oldest son, who doesn’t hesitate to jump in and say :

“Nightwing ! Son of Batman, the Black Knight of Gotham ! I’m the oldest of our ass beating organization. Criminals. I mean, we’re not criminals...Well, depends of your definition I guess. But what I was saying is, we beat the asses of criminals. Um. Yes. Have I said I’m the oldest of the family ? Well technically my dad is the oldest, but I mean-”

“I’m Jason. Perpetually helping my older brother here to avoid embarrassment by cutting him off rudely and fulfilling my little brother’s duty at the same time. Two birds with one stone. I like guns. Unlike my dad...”

Bruce just gives an exasperated look to Jason, and your son rolls his eyes :

“I just gave you the perfect opportunity to introduce yourself ! Amazing transition ! But I guess you weren’t ready, so um...Discout Bruce Wayne, go.”

You slap the back of your son’s head at his disrespect towards your new friend, and give an apologetic look to the one you think is called “Iron Man”. But clearly, your son’s jab doesn’t bother the man (probably because he has no idea who Bruce Wayne is) and with a hint (a big big hint) of arrogance and pride, he says :

“Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Also Iron man, I saved this planet multiple times.”

“...And very modest. Not over the top at all. Mm. Reminds me of someone, before I met him, and with less charisma.”

You say, giving a look at your husband. He smiles and winks at you, while Tony Stark frowns, pretty sure you just insulted him. But you don’t leave him the time to say anything as you continue :

“(Y/N). I don’t have a superhero name because technically I’m not one. It was kind of...unlucky for me to be there. At the same time lucky, I would be dying of being worried sick right now if I wasn’t there and knowing where my family was. And...That’s all.”

“Wolverine. But y’all can call me Logan.”

Ah. Short (like him). To the point. You liked it.

“Batman.”

Even shorter (unlike him), you liked it even more.

Turning to your husband you smile and forgetting for a second you were surrounded by a bunch of strangers, you cuddled a little closer to him.

“I’m Storm. Or Ororo. As you wish. I control the weather, and I teach at the Xavier school, I help young mutants to understand their power more. As I wish I had that kind of help as a child.”

Wow. Majestic. You were quite impressed, and clearly, so were your sons. You had to close Jason’s mouth. And Dick’s. Tim and Damian got the message.

“Spider-Man ! I um...Can do whatever a spider does. According to that song at least. Sorry. I’m not good at introductions, my teachers always said so. ”

You smile encouragingly at him. He was one of the only one you remembered the name of, only because he brought your youngest son and seeing how Damian talked about him, he seemed quite fond of him already. And it was rare, that your kiddo was fond of someone that fast, so that Spider kid must be quite something. You got it though, he did have a relaxed, nice vibe about him, if not a bit awkward.

“I am Captain America, please to meet you all, I am very glad we’re on this mission together. Let’s hope for a peaceful coalition until this is all over. Now that the introductions are done, I think we should-”

“Oh, typical American to forget the German guy ! I’m Kurt, an X-Men since many years. But a lot of people in the circus called me Nightcrawler and it stuck. You can call me whatever you want.”

“In the circus ! No way I used to be in a circus ! I was an acrobat !”

“Oh me too !”

Dick excitedly jumped on his feet, so did Kurt, while the one called “Captain America” was clearly feeling very uneasy.

“I um, am sorry, Nightcrawler. I did not pay attention. I would never-”

“Relax Kapitän, I was only teasing. I know you would never forget me on purpose ! It was my fault. I was standing in the shadow. I disappear, in the shadow.”

Damian’s eyes widen as he witnessed Kurt slowly becoming invisible as he retrieved to the shadows.

“WOW ! So cool !”

Nightcrawler came into the light again, and smiled brightly at your son :

“Thank you very much young man, it is rare people think of my ability as rare. Usually, they’re frightened.”

Damian looked curiously at Kurt, and asked :

“...Why ?”

You could clearly see the shock on the mutant’s face, at the candid and innocent question Damian asked. It was probably the first time in a very long time he met someone that did not judge his appearance at all...You were very proud of your son, in that moment.

“Wow is that really what you’re all going for ? What a joke ! And you say I’m the dishonest one ? Well let me re-introduce all of you.”

The cute and sweet moment is shattered by Deadpool sly laughter, the shift in the mood is brutal and you wonder how it happened. He continues :

“I can’t say anything about you all...Batfamily, I don’t know you, only through a few terribly written comics. I’m sure you’re much more than the cliches in there...Proof is that little Tim here hasn’t had a drop of coffee in hours ! And Jason didn’t shoot anyone, also that Damian kid totally accepted Nightcrawler seconds ago and wasn’t a brat !”

Silence. What ? Comics ? What was he even on about...

“You’re such hypocrites though, all of you -he points at the Avengers and X-Men- Stark for example, he’s an ex-arms dealer. He likes to think of himself as a philantropist but he really never did something for someone else that didn’t benefit him in some ways, so he really isn’t like your husband. I don’t know why people in the real world always compare the two...”

“What ?”

“Nevermind. Wolverine. He killed more people in his life than me, and my job for a long time was literally to kill people. Granted his life is long, but the man can get crazily out of control and kill anything that moves ! It happens a scary amount of time. Storm, thought she was a goddess back home but really was just a pickpocket that gullible villagers put on a pedestal ! Kurt ? Act all nice and religious, but did some pretty terrible thing in moments he had to survive ? Isn’t that right Kurt ? Oh and Cap ? A literal war criminal. Well, I mean in some stories, but like he fought during World War II and was most definitely not always nice and did questionable things...As for Spidey here ! ...Well he never did anything wrong. I refuse to hear about all those times he supposedly was an asshole. Spider-Man is amazing. That’s all.”

There’s a big silence, as your family looks at the Avengers and X-men suspiciously. But then Deadpool adds :

“Oh, and by the way, I’m Wade. Completely crazy, and highly unreliable. I hear voices. A lot of them. Well not a lot of them. Just two. But it’s two more than most people do.”

And then he laughs like a mad man, and the sudden tension falls just as fast as it rose. Wether Deadpool was telling the truth or not, you couldn’t know. But there was something sure about this all thing : he was most definitely not all there in the head.

Plus, you had a gut feeling that you could trust those guys, after all, they did look like a lot of people you knew back in your own world. Like if they were their counterpart in this universe. Plus it seemed you all had the same goal...Stopping Klarion, and whoever that Loki was.

It was vital, to avoid chaos across the multiverses.

************

The introductions made, you started to all talk about your respective world. How it was where you were from, and how it was here.

“Registering mutants ? It sounds very...Germany nineteen forties.”

“Ah yes, some of our mutant compatriots think the same. But us, X-Men, still hope for a peaceful and nice way to resolve everything.”

(...)

“But what are you really avenging ?”

“I’m telling you it’s just a name !”

“...It makes no sense. Like, the X-men are called like that because of the X genes, if I understood. Back home, our League of Justice is called like that because...Well, pretty self-explanatory, but you, why “Avengers” ?”

“It just sounded cool ok ?!”

(...)

“And so we did that trick in the circus, where I would jump and teleport to the other side and in the dim light people would just think I did an impossible jump !”

“That is wayyy cool !”

(...)

“Are you a mutant too ?”

Damian asked Spider-man, and Peter answered :

“No, I was bit by a radioactive spider.”

“Oh ! Were can I acquire such a spider ?!”

“Damian ! Stop trying to get superpowers , you’re perfect as you are !”

You scold your son, and Damian continues, looking dad :

"I used to have superpowers...When my father resurected me with a crystal from Apokolips.”

“You died ?”

“Yeah. We all died once. Or faked our death.”

After those words your youngest son glares at your oldest, who yells :

“OH YOU’RE NEVER GONNA LEAVE THAT DOWN ARE YOU ?!”

(...)

Conversations were happening a bit everywhere, as you were steadily flying towards The Xavier school for gifted youngsters, slowly discovering each others, and the worlds you were coming from.

************

“Wow this looks a lot like Wayne Manor !”

“Wayne Manor ?”

“Our house, back in our World.”

Damian exclaimed, and his father cleared his throat in a scolding way (a talent, really).

“What ? Do you seriously expect them to come to our dimension and tell everyone who we really are ? The chances are thin father. They’re the good guys of this world as well. Plus look at them, none of them really hide their identity. Except for Spidey.”

“Well they’re wrong. I already told you keeping your true identity secret is crucial. This is why we keep our aliases, even here.”

“AH ! Couldn’t agree more dude !”

Spider-man says, turning to your husband. Bruce continues :

“Very poor choice of them. If any of their enemies truly know who they are, their home will be targeted.”

“RIGHT ?! They all parade around with everyone knowing their real names like what’s their problems right ?”

“I have to agree young man.”

“You know the X-Men ? Their school was blown up like, thirty times because everyone knows where they live, and because they dox themselves all the time !”

“Irresponsible.”

“RIGHT ?! I’m so glad you agree !”

Ignoring the current conversation about secret identities, Wolverine, or rather “Logan” as he himself told you to call him (most definitely have a problem with the concept of code names and secret identities, in this universe) lands and says :

“Welcome to the Xavier school for gifted youngsters.”

************

“So, how dangerous exactly is this Klarion boy ?”

Charles Xavier asked, sitting in one of the salon in the school.

“He’s already extremely dangerous, but if paired with someone like Loki, he’d be even worst. At least according to what Thor told us about his brother.”

Your husband answers, all stoic and serious, and then Thor awkwardly says, as if ashamed :

“He’s adopted.”

“Adopted brothers are still brothers !”

Damian fiercely said, narrowing his eyes at the god of Thunder. It made your heart warm, to think how such a long way he came. A few years ago, when he first entered your life, he would’ve never defended adopted sibling with such convictions.

Tim ruffles Damian’s hair, and winks at him before saying :

“Look at him Dam-Robin, he clearly didn’t think before he spoke ! And I think it was a joke, right Thor ?”

Thor nods, even though he wasn’t sure he was really joking. He most definitely loved his brother, but it was true he was adopted ? The God of Thunder was a bit confused as to why the little man took it so personally. Ah, but they were raised in very much different ways...

In any case, the focus of the conversation went back to Professor Xavier.

“So, do you think you can find Klarion ?”

Your husband asks, his seriousness back (he might have been a little on the softer side when he witnessed Damian defending his “adopted” brothers as being really his brothers, but now he was all back to business).

“Well, we won’t know if I do not try, right ?”

************

You, Bruce, Tim, Jason, Dick, Damian, Storm and Charles Xavier went to the school’s underground, while Wolverine, Nightcrawler and the Avengers stayed in the upper levels.

Logan didn’t seem to trust them much, especially not Tony Stark. And if he stopped Tony Stark from going down to Cerebro, then in all fairness he had to stop all the other Avengers too.

You and your family ? It was different. He had a good feeling about you, and his guts never lied. Plus Charles needed you to guide him to find Klarion, the infos you had on the boy being crucial in his search.

And so Spider-Man, Captain America, Iron Man, Thor and Nightcrawler stayed up there, discussing any plan of action possible once they’ll find Klarion. If, they find Klarion.

Deadpool was there too, now taped to the wall in the salon, as no one was quite ready to give him his freedom yet. He was softly whistling an unknown song, all the while carefully listening to his “friends”.

************

Cerebro was an impressive room with a single helmet in the middle. Was this huge size really necessary ?

“The size of the room is indeed necessary. It permits for a lot of components to be added, and for it all to function. All the walls are made of very complicated circuits without which the all machine wouldn’t work.

Wow ! It was as if he-

“Read your thoughts ? I am sorry, I tend to indeed do so with people I just meet. It’s a...defense mechanism if you will, to make sure they’re not ill intentioned. But in your thoughts, I perceived no malice, which is why I’m allowing all of you here, in my Cerebro. Plus, your common knowledge of that Klarion boy is crucial to finding him.”

Ah. So this is why the X-men left you alone with their leaders so easily. He was a telepath, not just able to find people with his mind. He could read them, and know if someone was thinking something bad or not...Well, at least, it was easy to build trust.

At least on his side, because thinking about someone always reading whatever you thought were made you uncomfortable. What if you suddenly thought about a wild night you spend with Bruce ? Oh my God, here you were, thinking exactly about that !

“Ah, do not worry, I read into the minds of those I do not know up until I trust them. And I trust you know, so you can...Think of whatever you want. I’ll just add that you most definitely find each others well.”

What Professor X implied as he smiled at you and Bruce made you both blush, and you quickly looked away, trying to think only about Klarion. Thankfully your son had been completely oblivious to it all, or...Well, those poor souls.

“Stay perfectly still, please.”

Before you could ask why, the machine started and WOW, it was overwhelming ! Millions and millions of voices all talked at the same time, and silhouettes of people started to appear everywhere.

How the hell did that Xavier did...whatever he was doing ?

Slowly but surely, less and less people floated into the air, until eventually, only one person remained...

“It’s Klarion !”

Tim exclaimed, and sure enough, in front of you, was Klarion. He was sitting on something, and saying unintelligible things.

“Where is he ?”

Bruce asked avidly. But Professor Xavier’s forehead had more and more creases, and sweat slowly pearled at the corner of his temples.

“Hey, hey what are you doing you sneaky little rat ?!”

Klarion. That was most definitely Klarion. Looking straight at you all. Did he just sense Charles ?

“I’ll have you know I’ve been train about mind invasion, it’s witch school 101 ! Now, get...OUT !!”

And suddenly, the entire machine shut down and with a groan of pain, Xavier took his helmet off. You rushed to him, worried, but in his calming voice he said :

“I am alright my dear, but this Klarion boy is much stronger than I thought. I wasn’t quite able to get his exact location, but I think we can work with what I have...”

************

Charles managed to have an area where Klarion could possibly be, but it was very vague. However he projected the 3D image he found of him as he searched with Cerebro, and showed it to everyone in one of the X-Men’s many briefing room.

“This is what he looks like. I can actually manage to print a decent quality picture of him, based on the mental image I have in my mind. If we go to the area I spotted him, we could...”

“Heyyyyyy ! I know that little Wolverine haired guy !”

Cutting the professor off, Deadpool, who, from his spot handcuffed to a heater (it was still an improvement from being taped to the wall) said. He had managed to catch a glimpse of Klarion, and clearly...recognized him ?

“You’ve seen him before ?”

Bruce asks, suspicious. After all, Deadpool had proven so far to not be the most reliable guy indeed. Yet he still somehow tried to help nonetheless.

“Yeah I did ! You should’ve told me what he looked like, would’ve saved us a lot of work ! I kinda thought he was just yet another one of Logan’s kid, I mean, the dude NEVER uses protection ! Anyway I saw him on my way to get you two from the subway station, and I saw him go in a very special place, from which I was coming out. He’s at my ex-wife’s Shikla’s place...And I mean “ex” as in we’re no longer married, not like, she’s part of the X-men; They’d never accept her, she’s a total psycho ! She kinda rules over the world of monsters and often plans for the end of the Human race. Should we go visit her ?”

And that’s how you embarked for a new adventure down under...Literally.

To be continued...

__________________________________________________

Well after months of not writing...I tried :/. I hope you still like this little transition chapter. You probably noticed a lot of characters had almost no “screen time” even though they were present (and how Deadpool has a lot of said screen time...i needed him to find the witch boy), I’ll do better in the next chapter ! It’s just I needed a little sort of transition to go from searching Klarion to finding him, if that makes sense ? I hope you’re not disappointed and think things are moving too fast, or things aren’t making sense/are a mess, with this more lighthearted chapter, real action coming next chapter, and thanks for reading !

If you did like it, as always : feedbacks and reblogs are more than welcomed <3. Thanks in advance !

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