#campus.assignment

despite his usual confusion, he approaches the middle of the choir room and clears his throat. “i’m pretty sure this ballad is about being saved, or watched or whatever? which is totally what our co-captains do all the time. so, thank you both for your dedication and, uh, attention to detail. this is for you,” he finishes diplomatically. then with a quick gesture to the piano player to hit it, carter locks eyes with both stella and julian.

i feel you, juella. i feel you.

was it a creative risk changing the name of the song? yes. was he trolling? yes. was he secretly hoping someone would dramatically interrupt in the name of sondheim. yesyesyes. but to his displeasure, the ballad continues and he remembers he’s supposed to care a little. julian’s and stella’s earlier line of questioning remind him to do just that. he steps closer and holds their gazes with each creepy lyric.

i’ll steal you, juella. i’ll steal you.

the song is literally a minute and a few seconds long and he long decided it’s the only time he can afford to be vulnerable. even then, he’s choosing to take the easy road and blow smoke up his co-captain asses. admittedly, their words get under his skin more than he expected. as he clearly he wasn’t doing a good enough job of convincing them that he wanted to be here, let along belong. mid verse, his mind wanders to how he got here — blackmail, precious sheet music, and several ill-timed run ins.

even now, i'm at your window. til i'm with you then, i'm with you there.

before his mind can really spiral on his journey to loserdom, the song ends. the final note rings as does the understanding of the assignment when he feels the vulnerability creep in.

she's  always  been  transparent.  very,  terribly,  transparent.  never  able  to  lie,  or  hide  how  she  feels  -  every  emotion  written  clear  as  day,  etched  across  her  features  no  matter  how  grin  -  splitting  or  gut  -  wrenching.  her  dads  called  it  a  blessing,  once,  that  no  matter  what  -  she's  honest.  then  why  couldn't  she  be  honest  about  this?  about  the  hummingbird  thump  of  her  heart,  so  quick  she  couldn't  time  the  pace  if  she  tried,  couldn't  tie  it  down  to  any  fathomable  number  other  than  -  too  much.  like  if  it  paused,  even  once,  she'd  die.  sometimes,  being  with  valeria  felt  like  that  -  like  a  single  day  without  talking  to  her,  without  seeing  her,  and  marijoy  would  just  -  collapse.  it's  a  desperation  that,  even  in  her  years  of  experienced  yearning,  is  still  so  new  to  her.  crushes  came  and  went,  like  the  changing  of  seasons,  like  the  newest  trends,  like  everything  else  in  life.  coming  and  going.  staying  and  leaving.  living  and  dying.  but  valeria  -  she's  one  of  the  few  constants  in  marijoy's  life  she  doesn't  think  she'd  be  able  to  part  with.

this week's assignment: ballads

“     and  next  up  is  .  .  .     ”    mr  kelmeckis  glances  down  at  the  sign  -  up  sheet  for  a  brief  moment.      “     cecelia  sinclair!     ”    

the  assignment  is  supposed  to  tell  everyone  who  you  are. apparently,  that  means  crying  in  front  of  a  bunch  of  losers.  yeah  .  .  .  cecelia  is  so  not  doing  that.  she  doesn't  owe  anyone  an  explanation,  especially  not  people  she  would  never  be  caught  dead  interacting  with  outside  of  this  dumb  club. her  heels  click  against  the  floor  as  she  walks  to  the  middle  of  the  choir  room,  glancing  over  her  shoulder  to  give  the  pianist  a  small  nod.

i've  posed  for  pictures  with  iv'ry  soap i've  petted  stray  dogs,  and  shied  clear  of  dope my  smile  is  brilliant,  my  glance  is  tender but  I'm  noted  most  for  my  unspoiled  gender

the kind of inconvenient part of having a friend that you only hung out with in the middle of a) nowhere and b) the night was that if you wanted to sing them a ballad to stress that you're there for them, you had to get creative about where to do it.

the basement of abrams house had seen a lot of musical performances as of late, and as lore led august down there well past the start of "quiet hours" (as if abrams was ever actually quiet), she mentally prepared to add another to the list.

was it advisable for someone who already had shaky self-confidence to sing to someone who had a negative comment to offer after multiple performances in glee club that week? some of which seemed to impact the performer so much that physical violence was a byproduct? maybe not! but the august lore knew was different from the one that got punched in the face. or, at least, different enough that she was willing to take the risk.

fingers brushing tentatively over the keys of the piano as she finished rambling about the stars they were unable to see thanks to the clouds, lore used her other hand to gesture towards the various seating options (couch, beanbag, the bench beside her) available to him.

and then, rather abruptly - "sorry you got punched in the face, by the way." neither person involved in that altercation had been in the right, but she hadn't spoken up in the moment, and she regretted it. thus... the song. the incoming song. the one that she was doing her best not to procrastinate, because it was just august, and it was just a song about how she really was there for him even when he wasn't the most popular member of glee club.

"thanks for being willing to move to a secondary location for this too. i'm trying to get better at the whole being perceived while performing thing, so i figured..." why not sing to someone who has the same issue, she left unsaid. "anyway! if you're good, i can..."

to say that the week had been rough for stella would be an understatement. if it wasn't bad enough that she'd only had a passable performance for that week's ballad assignment, waiting to hear back after an audition for a role that was rightfully hers was a purgatory she wouldn't wish on anyone. add on the fact that she still had classes to attend, new directions performances to critique (and a theme to work out), crucible rehearsals, and a debate to prep for with a side she didn't actually agree with, and she wasn't in the best of moods when she wandered into the arts building that day.

she hadn't had a particular destination in mind... until she saw a name on a door, and she instantly perked up. tyler perera, scrawled right across a timeslot that would soon be occurring. how fortuitous! her space-related nemesis.

was he really all that bad? no, probably not. but rage baiting him for kicks brought her joy, and that was something she was so lacking in at present. she wasn't the best piano player, but one text to her go-to girl and a quick little run through of an old classic had her feeling almost like herself. there was something so freeing about performing in front of someone who you genuinely did not care about singing well for. she could bomb, and still the message would be the same. the true meaning of the song? who cared! because she knew without a doubt that as soon as she began to sing, he'd hear her loud and clear. she was creating a new meaning for the song.

unfortunately for her, he was right on time this go-round (she couldn't annoy him about that!), but that didn't stop her from tossing out a lie to rub salt in old wounds.

"tyler!" she pretended to be shocked, the little turn she'd done at the sound of the door opening a perfect acting choice. "so nice of you to join us! i just wanted you to know that i used your rehearsal space to prepare a very special song for you."

the smile on her face at that point was weirdly genuine. she may have been about to perform a ballad that was actually quite emotional, but she was truly excited to do it. "you're welcome, by the way."

by the time ballads rolled around, stella had maybe psyched herself out a little too much. the fact that she hadn't received a solo during mashup week had been eating away at her, poisoning her mind with doubt in her abilities, and for a performer who thrived due to her self-confidence (and talent, obviously, but that was only a part of it!) that was basically a death sentence.

ft. mentions of @onwiththeshcw ( rhys davenport )

"you could be my silver spring blue-green, colors flashing i would be your only dream your shining autumn, ocean crashing,"

ballad week. savannah had spent the first half of her week trying to narrow down her potential song choices. the possibilites seemed to be endless, the rest of her fellow glee club members selecting songs from all over the place, most of them being good choices. while she could have picked something safe, prediable ( such as one of her favorite, trusty emo ballad's she had memorized since middle school ). yeah, that felt a little too safe. after seeing a certain boy's face on campus a few days prior, it seemed to ignite a certain rage she'd kept hidden within her.

rhys fucking davenport.

someone she had an almost connection with last school year before he decided to prompty ghost her after a frat party hookup. was she still slightly jaded over it, wondering what she did wrong? sure, more than likely. what better inspirtation for ballad week than to select a song from one of her favorite vocalists? the queen of angst, witchyness, and overall icon? stevie nicks.

"and don't say that she's pretty? and did you say that she loved you? baby, I don't wanna know,"

"for ballad week, i'll be performing arguably the best song off rumors, the song that deserved to be on the album the first time around," savannah spoke, standing infront of the new directions. "silver springs, and i'm dedicating this to a non-glee club member, rhys davenport. maybe someone can record this and send it to him later, yeah?" she added on before she began to sing.

"time cast a spell on you but you won't forget me i know I could have loved you but you would not let me,"

she was almost done with the song, ending it with the most dramatic but favorite line, "you never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you." did she love him? no. but, had she been crushing perhaps a bit too hard before he decided to treat her like chopped liver and a second class citizen? yes. if there was one thing that savannah grady was going to do? was make her point across in song and look like an alternative baddie while doing it.