#and I have complicated feelings about whether or not an accent can be appropriated and when

[alistairian]

So we've heard about people appropriating aave but when are we going to talk about canadian men who put on rural accents in order to signal their blue collar working class masculinity?

[writingwithcolor]

Being an Agender, 1st-Gen Indian-American

I’m a first-generation immigrant, with both my parents being Indian immigrants. My mom immigrated to Canada before she came to America (when she was in her late twenties), and is a Canadian citizen. She was born and raised in Ahmedabad, a city in Gujarat. My dad moved to India when he was in his early twenties. He moved from Ahmedabad to Mumbai in his fifth standard, and moved from a Gujarati-medium school to an English-medium one. 

My dad is more fluent in English than my mom, though they both are fluent and speak mostly without an accent. I speak Gujarati more-or-less fluently, since that’s what we spoke at home, but I can barely even write my name. I’m Hindu, as is my family, and a strict vegetarian. I’m agender, but I use she/her and they/them pronouns. 

Beauty Standards

One of the biggest issues in the Indian-American community is the issue of body hair. I’m AFAB, so I was expected to have smooth, hairless legs and arms. The reality was rather different. Since the age of ten, I had more body hair than the boys in my class. I was mocked and called by the name of a TV animal character, whose name was a mispronunciation of my own. No one ever did anything about it. I was eight. My mother, though she meant well, pushed me into waxing and threading and other forms of hair removal since the day I turned eleven. Even now, as a fully-grown adult with my own apartment and my own life, I can’t bring myself to wear shorts or capris without having spent hours making sure my legs are smooth. Body hair is a huge issue that needs to be addressed more, and not just as a few wisps of blonde hair in the armpit region.

Food

It’s complicated. Growing up, we had thaalis (with roti, rice, sweet dal, and shaak [which is a mix of vegetables and spices]) for dinner almost every night. When we didn’t, it was supplemented with foods like pasta, veggie burgers, and khichdi. We made different types of khichdi each time, based off of different familial recipes that were all named after the family member who introduced them. My mom had to make milder food for my sister, and while my sister loves spicy foods now, I’m still not a big fan. A side effect of growing up in a non-white, vegetarian family is that no one in my family has any idea of what white non-vegetarians eat. Like, at all. It’s kind of funny, to be honest. 

Holidays/Religion

My mom is a Vaishnav, and my dad is a Brahmin, so the way they both worship is very different. My dad’s family places a huge emphasis on chanting and prayer, as well as meditation. They mostly pray to capital-G G-d, as the metaphysical embodiment of Grace. My mom’s family, however, places emphasis on– I don’t want to say “idol worship" because of the negative connotations that has– but they worship to murtis, statues that represent our gods. My mom’s favored god to pray to is Krishna, and we have murtis in our home that she performs sevato every day.

We celebrate Janmashtmi, Holi, Diwali, Ganesha Puja, Lakshmi Puja– too many to count, really. We don’t always go all-out, especially on most of the smaller celebrations, but we do try and attend the temple lectures on those days, or host our own. We also celebrate Christmas and Easter secularly. I didn’t even know Christmas was a Christian holiday until I was in elementary school, and Easter until I was in high school.

Micro-Aggressions

Whooo, boy. Where do I start?

When my sister was in first grade, she had a friend. I’ll call her Mary. Mary, upon learning that my sister was not, in fact, Christian, brought an entire Bible to school and forced my sister to read it during recess, saying that otherwise, she wouldn’t be her friend anymore. Mary kept telling my sister that she would go to hell if she didn’t repent, and that our entire family was a group of “ugly sinners.” When my sister came to me for advice, I told her that Mary wasn’t her friend, that Mary wasn’t being nice, and that my sister wasn’t going to go to hell, and that we don’t even believe in hell. When my sister finally stood up to Mary and told her that she wasn’t going to listen to her anymore, Mary got angry and dumped a mini-carton of chocolate milk on her and told her that “now she looks like what she is– a dirty [the Roma slur term].” Not only was that inaccurate, it was extremely racist, and Mary was only reprimanded for the milk-spilling, not the racist remark that came with it. 

On top of that, since I have long hair, I’m always getting asked if so-and-so can touch it, or what I do to get it so long, or why I allow myself to be “shaped by such backwards ideals of women.” My name is never pronounced correctly, and I’ve been asked to give people my “American name” to be called by instead of my actual name. I’ve been called a terrorist, asked why I wasn’t wearing a hijab (by white people btw), and mocked for my food. I’ve been told that I wasn’t “really Indian” because I didn’t have a dot on my forehead. I’ve been told I wasn’t “really Hindu” because I had milk on my plate, by a white boy whose mom was a leader of a local choir.

I grew up in a town where only 4-5% of the population was South Asian, and there were a total of five South Asians in my grade level. The school administration consistently and intentionally placed us in different classes, and I never made a friend that was South Asian until 7th grade. When I came to the school, I was placed in ESOL without even being tested, while also being in the Advanced Readers class. The school didn’t even care to look at my school records before placing me into ESOL based on the color of my skin. 

Things I’d Like to See Less/More Of

I’d like to see less of the “nerd” stereotype, of the “weak, nonathletic” stereotype. I’d like to see less of the “prude” stereotype, of the “I hate my culture/feel I don’t belong” stereotype. I’d like to see less of the “rebellion” stereotype, of the “my parents are so strict and I hate them” stereotype. I never want to see the “unwanted arranged marriage” trope. Ever.

I want to see bulky, tall Indian characters. I’d like to see Indian characters confident in their sexuality, whether that’s not having sex (for LEGITIMATE reasons like risk of STDs, general awkwardness before and after The Deed, and wanting to wait, not “oh my parents said so and also I’m sheltered and innocent”), or having a new sexual partner every night.

I want Indian characters (especially children/teens!!!) proud of their culture and their heritage and their religion, whether that’s Islam, Hinduism, Sikhism, or anything else. I want to see supportive Indian parents, I want to see more than chiding Indian grandmothers and strict Indian fathers. I want to see healthy arranged marriages, or healthy mixed-marriages. I want to see mixed Indian-POC couples, I want to see queer Indian couples.

I want to see body hair on female-presenting characters, I want to see more of India that isn’t “bustling market with the scent of spices in the air” and “poor slums rampant with disease” and “Taj Mahal”. I want to see casual mentions of prayer and Hinduism and Indian culture (a short “My mom’s at the temple, she can’t come pick us up” or a “what is it? i’m in the middle of a holi fight! eep! ugh, gulaab in my mouth” over a phone call, or a “she won’t answer until 12– she’s in her Bharatnatyam class/Gurukul class/doing seva/at the temple” would suffice). I want to see more Indian languages represented than just Hindi. There’s Tamil, Gujarati, Marathi, Nepali, and Kashmiri, just off the top of my head. The language your character speaks depends on the place they come from in India, and they might not even speak Hindi! (I don’t!)

I hate that Indian culture is reduced to “oppressive, strict, and prudish” when it's so much more than that. I hate that Indians are stereotyped to the point where it is a norm, and the companies reinforcing these stereotypes don’t take responsibility for their actions and don’t change. I hate the appropriation of Indian culture (like yoga, pronounced “yogh”, not “yo-gaaa” fyi, the Om symbol, meditation, and Shri Ganapathidada) and how normalized it is in Western society. 

This ended up a lot longer than I had expected, but I hope it helps! Good luck with your writing :)

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[nevermindirah]

Do you have any thoughts on the use of AAVE for Nile (or lack thereof) in TOG fanfiction? I've been reading some Book of Nile fic and some writers seem to write her as a Millennial™ (using words like "fave" and "woke") but never acknowledge her Blackness in her patterns of speech. I know we don't see her use as much AAVE in the films, but I would argue she's in situations where code-switching would be valued (first in a "professional" environment in the army, then around a group of non-Black strangers).

Hi anon! I have many thoughts on this and I'm honored you asked me! But I should start by saying I'm white and any thoughts Black fans and especially Black American fans have on this that they want to share would be beyond lovely. (I'm not gonna tag anybody bc that feels rude but please add onto this post if any of y'all see this and want to!)

The main reason I personally avoid AAVE for Nile in my own fics is because I'm not Black. But Nile-centric fics by Black writers tend to avoid using much of it too, at least from what I've noticed/understood, and my guess is it's largely for the reason you mention, that she's in situations that encourage code-switching.

In movie canon Nile is highly competent at tailoring her language to each situation she finds herself in. This fantastic linguistics analysis meta shows how skillfully Nile chooses her vocabulary and grammar to meet her goals with different conversation partners in different contexts. In comics canon Nile had a bunch of different civilian jobs before joining the Marines, so she would've had experience code-switching in the ways that made sense for all those different contexts as well as the Marines and her family and high school and wherever else she spent her time before we met her. And now she's spending her time with a handful of immortals none of whom are native English speakers and a fellow Black American but one with a Queen's English UK accent whose professional experience is in the CIA where high-status code-switching is often an absolute must for success or even survival.

Fics featuring Nile are charged with extrapolating from that to how it might show up in her use of language that she's coping with a traumatic separation from her family and her career and pretty much everything she's ever known and now she needs to be able to make herself understood to people who seem to care about her and each other but are super duper in crisis, three (soon to be four) of whom predate Modern English entirely and the only one who's anywhere near her contemporary she's not supposed to talk to for a century. All of these people are telling her that pretty much any contact with any mortals poses an existential threat to her and the rest of the group. How the FUCK is she supposed to cope with that, like, generally? And would it be a more effective way for her to cope if she talked to Andy Joe and Nicky using the speech patterns that she used to use with her mom and brother, to at least retain that part of her identity even if it means having to do a lot of explaining, or would it meet her needs better to prioritize Andy Joe and Nicky understanding what she means with her words over using the particular words and grammar forms she used with her family?

I've seen several fics, both Nile-centric / BoN and otherwise, explore this a little bit in how/whether Nile uses Millennial™ speak. It's often a theme in Nile texting Booker despite the exile because of the popular headcanon that he as The Tech Guy is the only other immortal who understands memes. But Nile's much-younger-than-Booker mom probably uses Boomer and/or Gen X memes and Andy has been adapting to new communication styles for forever as evidenced by her canon high level of fluency with standard-American-accented English.

Which brings us back to people avoiding AAVE because they're not Black and they don't want to make mistakes (or they're not Black and they don't want to get yelled at for making mistakes, though I think many people overestimate how much they'll get yelled at while underestimating how much these mistakes can hurt). I can imagine some Black fans hold back from using much AAVE in fic because they don't want to share in-group stuff with white people who are likely to then adopt and ruin it, as white people so often do with Black cultural stuff. Some links about this including a great Khadija Mbowe video. I'm saying this gently, anon, because you might not know: woke, an example you cited as Millennial™ speak, is AAVE, and that's gotten erased by so many white people appropriating it and using it incorrectly online.

And also there's the part where fandom is a hobby and you never know when you're reading a fic that's the very first thing someone's ever written outside of a school assignment. This cultural considerations of language shit takes a level of effort and skill that not everybody puts into every fic, or even could if they wanted to because they haven't had time to build their skills yet. It's definitely easier for non-Black fans to project our millennial feels onto Nile than to do the layers of research and self-reflection it requires to depict what Blackness might mean to Nile, and it's not surprising that often people sharing their hobby creations on the internet have gone the easier route. There's not even necessarily shame in doing what's easier. It's just frustrating and often hurtful when structural white supremacy means that 3-dimensional Black characters are rare in media and thoughtful explorations of them in fandom are seen by the majority of fans as not-easy to make and therefore Nile Freeman, the main character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood, has the least fic and meta and art made about her of our 5 main immortals.

I've been active in different fandoms off and on for twenty years and I barely managed to write 5,000 words about Sam Wilson across multiple different fics in the 7 years since I fell in love with him. There's an alchemy to which characters we connect with, and on top of that which characters we connect with in a way that causes us to create stuff about them. Something about Nile Freeman finally tipped me over the edge from a voracious reader to a voracious writer. It's not for me to judge which characters speak to other individuals to the level of creating content about them, but I do think it's important for us to notice, and then work to fight, the pattern where across this fandom as a whole Nile gets way less content, and way less depth in so much of the content that's in theory about her, than any of these other characters.

Anyway, back to language. My two long fics feature Nile with several Black friends — Copley and OCs and cameos from other media — but all of those characters except Alec Hardison from Leverage aren't American. It's very possible I'm guilty of stereotyping Black British speech patterns in I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore. I watched hours and hours of Black haircare YouTube videos in the research for that fic and I modeled my OCs' speech patterns on what I heard from some of those YouTubers as well as what I've heard people like John Boyega and Idris Elba saying in interviews, but the thing about doing your best is you still might fuck up.

I'm slowly making progress on my WIP where Nile and Sam Wilson are cousins, and what ways of talking with a family member might be authentic for Nile is a major question I need to figure out. For that, I'm largely modeling my writing choices on how I hear my Black friends and colleagues talking to each other. I haven't overheard colleagues talking in an office in a long-ass time, but back when that was a thing, I remember seeing a ton of nuance in the different ways many of my Black colleagues would talk to each other. Different people have different personalities! And backgrounds! And priorities! A few jobs ago my department was about 1/3 Black and we worked closely with Obama administration staff many of whom were Black and there was SO MUCH VARIETY in how Black people talked to each other, about work and workplace-appropriate personal stuff, where I and other white coworkers could hear. There are a few work friends in particular who I have in my head when I'm trying to imagine how Sam and Nile might talk to each other. From the outside looking in, God DAMN is shit complicated, intellectually and interpersonally and spiritually, for Black people who are devoting their professional lives to public service in the United States.

One more aspect of this that I have big thoughts on but I need to take extra care in talking about is the idea of acknowledging Nile's Blackness in her patterns of speech. There's no one right way to be Black, and Nile's a fictional character created by a white dude but there are plenty of real-life Black Americans who don't use much or even any AAVE, for reasons that are complicated because of white supremacy. (Highly highly recommend this video by Shanspeare on the harms of the Oreo stereotype.)

Something that's not the same but has enough similarity that I think it's worth talking about is my personal experience with authenticity and American Jewish speech patterns. My Jewish family members don't talk like they're in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and I've known lots of people who do talk that way (or the millennial version of it), some of whom have questioned my Jewishness because I don't talk that way. That hurts me. Sometimes when another Jew tells me some shit like "I've never heard a Jew say y'all'd've," I can respond with "well now you have asshole, bless your Yankee-ass heart," because the myth of Dixie is a racist lie but I will totally call white Northerners Yankees when they're being shitty to me for being Southern, and this particular Jew fucking revels in using "bless your heart" with maximum polite aggression, especially with said Yankees. But sometimes I don't have it in me to say anything and it just quietly hurts having an important part of me disbelieved by someone who shares that important part of me. The sting isn't quite the same when non-Jews disbelieve or discount my Jewishness, but that hurts too.

Who counts as authentically Jewish is a messy in-group conversation and it doesn't really make sense to explain it all here. Who counts as authentically Jewish is a matter of legal status for immigration, citizenship, and civil rights in Israel, and it's my number 2 reason after horrific treatment of Palestinians that I'm antizionist. But outside that extremely high-stakes legal situation, it can just feel really shitty to not be recognized as One Of Us, especially by your own people.

It can also feel really shitty to be The Only One of Your Kind in a group, even if that group is an immortal chosen family who all loves each other dearly. Sometimes especially in a situation like that where you know those people love you but there are certain things they don't get about you and will never quite be able to. I'm definitely projecting at least a little bit of my "lonely Jew who will be alone again for yet another Jewish holiday" stuff onto Nile when at the end of I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore she's thinking about being the only Black immortal and moving away from the community she'd built with a mostly-Black group of mortals in that fic. Maybe that tracks, or maybe that's fucked up of me.

Basically, this got very long but it's complicated, writing about experiences that aren't your own takes skill which in turn takes time and practice to build, writing about experiences not your own that our society maligns can cause a lot of harm if done badly, it can also cause a lot of harm when a large enough portion of a fandom just decides to nope out of something that's difficult and risky because then there's just not much content about a character who deserves just a shit ton of loving and nuanced content, people are individuals and two people who come from the exact same cultural context might show that influence in all kinds of different ways, identity is complicated, language is complicated, writing is hard, and empathy and humility and doing our best aren't a guarantee of avoiding harm but they do go a long way in helping people create thoughtful content about a character as awesome and powerful and kind and messy and scared and curious and WORTHY as Nile Freeman.

[manticorefruit]

Aliens Isolation: Closure

Quick fic to process my messy feelings about synthetics in the Aliens universe. Summary: Amanda encounters a synth of the same model as Christopher Samuels and walks away with more questions than answers. Post-game.Very lightly implied Samuels lives and Ripley/Samuels.

Notes: Excerpt at the bottom is from 'the velveteen rabbit' by Margery Williams.  I need validation to live so please let me know if you enjoyed this.

Standing in the middle of the company cafeteria, Amanda's eyes locked onto a familiar figure, wearing a crisp, company issue khaki jumpsuit.

She froze. Even with her hands hanging limply by her sides, she could feel her palms sweating. The glare from the overhead lights was unbearable, boring into her skull like a welding torch. It was so bright, nowhere to hide, no cover no… Her muscles seized up, blood pounding in her ears, every part of her body screaming that she needed to dive under a nearby table, that it wasn't safe to be standing out in the open like this. But she was stuck, frozen in shock like the people she'd seen impaled on the creature's barbed tail.

Samuels looked up from his data pad, noticing the peculiar young woman staring at him from across the hall. The colour had drained from her already pale skin, and she was swaying on her feet. Everybody else in the area was dutifully ignoring her.

'Samuels?' She called out in a shaky, croaking voice.

'Yes?' he answered, moving toward her.

'No. No...no no no...' Blackness seeped into the edges of her vision and she felt the ceiling pushing in against her. 'You...you weren't...you aren't' she slurred.

With inhuman speed Samuels crossed the room toward her. The subtle hydraulic jerkiness of his movements triggered Ripley's mind to superimpose the image of a Working Joe over the Wey-Yu android reaching out to grab her.

'You're becoming hysterical' echoed in her mind and she could feel the ghost of clammy silicon hands closing around her neck. Although her arms felt heavy and unresponsive, weighed down by the blackness, she managed to yank a spanner from the magnetic toolbelt at her waist and swung it down, hard, against the side of the synthetic's face.

A thought breached through the black ooze of terror blanketing her consciousness-something was wrong-she couldn't remember a Working Joe ever moving that fast.

She anticipated feeling her head being slammed into the metal grating on the floor in retaliation but there was...nothing. The sensation of falling lingered. She blacked out.

Samuels had caught Amanda gracefully, gently cradling her head and taking a knee as he lowered her body toward the floor. He barely reacted when she slammed the wrench into the side of his face with enough force to tear his ear and gouge a chunk of faux-skin out of his temple.

'Amanda Ripley.' he read the name off her company ID tag. Hearing her name said in that soft British accent tumbled Amanda back into consciousness. 'Please, Amanda.' he said softly. She opened her eyes groggily.

'Samuels?' she snaked her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. She hadn't cried at all since Sevastapol, and now it all came out at once in great heaving sobs.

His body was warm in her arms, warmer than a human, and his chest gently rose and fell in a false simulacra of breathing. Instead of a heartbeat she could hear a faint ticking sound and the rush of the silky white fluid that coursed through synthetics.

'Oh.' She murmured, touching his neck, rubbing some if it between her fingertips.

'OH SHIT. You're bleeding?!' she scooted out of his arms and away from him, leaving a damp spot of tears and snot on his collar.

'Hm.' He touched the side of his face. In an instant the darkness clouding her mind lifted and she was slammed violently into the reality that she was sitting on the grimy floor of a cafeteria, and had just accosted someone who was only trying to help. And then-worse-hugged them.

'It's coolant, actually. Well. It serves several purposes, primarily lubrication and heat destrib-' he stopped.

'Amanda are you all right?' Samuels processors flopped about like a fish out of water, struggling to pattern match with past experiences on the appropriate way to deal with a human having a mental health crisis. It was quite obvious she was not 'all right'.

'It's not you.' her shoulders slumped.

'I believe you've mistaken me for someone else, yes. I'm sorry.'

'Why?'

'I...I'm sorry?'

'You're not him.'

'No. But I read the documentation on the Sevastapol incident.' He looked pained.

Samuels stood up and extended a hand to help her to her feet. Synthetics. Always so obliging. She brushed away his arm, cheeks flushing.

She staggered over to a nearby table and sat down heavily. 'Fuck. I'm sorry. If you'd been human-I could have killed someone.' She rubbed her face in her hands.

'It's unlikely a human would trigger such a response in you.'

She groaned.

'I'm sure we can find a way to ensure your pay isn't docked for damaging company property. Let's call it an accident.' He said dryly, sliding into the chair opposite her.

She didn't even snort in reply. His humour calibration algorithms noted the failure to amuse.

'How many of you are there? Do you all look the same?'

'Well, the company extensively focus tests the appearance of their product line-'

'You're not a product.'

'It's very kind of you to say that, Amanda.'

The conversation ground to an uneasy halt.

She toyed with the grease-stained cuffs on her sleeves, spattered with white. He wiped off the blood analogue from his face and neck with a napkin. She turned her head and looked at the stain on his collar guiltily, unable to meet his eyes.

'37.' he said plainly. She didn't respond.

'40 is the standard number for a limited edition C6-class line but three were…'

She didn't need to know why the other three had been decommissioned immediately after they were activated. Or that Christopher Samuels, WY-alpha-b.6#139C6 was technically still unaccounted for.

'I'm Robin Samuels. It's an honour to meet you, Amanda Ripley. Despite the circumstances.'

'Tch.'

They sat in silence for a long moment.

'Can...can synthetics create backup copies of themselves?' she asked sullenly, pulling him out of his own reverie.

'I'm afraid not. The company forbids the transfer of raw data. There are also...technical complications.'

She glared at him, frowning.

'I'm sorry, Amanda. I can't go into details, the specifics are proprietary.'

She huffed and stood up, retrieved two cups of cheap instant coffee, then sat back down. Robin Samuels looked at her with a softly neutral expression. Across from him Amanda Ripley was scowling, mirroring the expression she held in the company ID photo clipped to her breast pocket.

She had set a cup in front of him, and he picked it up. She'd given Christopher a cup of coffee once too. The first time they'd met. She knew he was a synthetic in that moment, deep down, but it didn't matter to her enough for it to register as a conscious thought. He was still a person. A crewmate. The memory punched her in the chest.

'Shit.' she mumbled, 'Force of habit.'

'It's fine, Amanda. The warmth...feels nice.'

He had his fingers wrapped around the mug, which was far too hot for human hands. She lifted her own cup by the handle, holding it up to her face as if it were big enough to hide behind.

'Can you...feel things' she murmured quietly into her coffee. Robin pretended not to hear the question.

'Why did you sacrifice yourself for me?' she almost yelled this time.

Samuels eyes darted to the cup, worried she would spill the contents and scald herself. Instead she put it down gently, and dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, stinging with angry tears.

'Amanda, I really wish I could give you closure, but I just don't know.'

'How did you know who I am anyway?' she snapped.

'I read your file.' He nodded toward her name tag.

'What does it say.'

'That you don't have much of a sense of humour.'

She snorted bitterly.

'Did he write anything in it? Why he chose me for the mission?'

'You're a competent engineer. You were in the area, which, in my understanding, was not a coincidence.'

'Hmph.'

'I suppose the company approved of his request because you're a...loose end.' He paused. 'There are a lot of redactions in the file.'

She squinted at him suspiciously. That statement was bordering on slanderous towards his creators.

'Why didn't they just put an order through to have him to secure...that thing. After we arrived. Instead of helping me.'

Samuels pursed his lips together 'Perhaps it was an oversight.'

'Bullshit.'

She glanced around the room. No one was paying any attention to her. The company had ensured everyone believed her ravings about a monster were simply the result of a fragile mind riddled with PTSD and survivors guilt. She hated that they weren't entirely wrong.

She stared into his eyes with deep suspicion. He stared back with a neutral expression. She tilted her head slightly, and he did the same. A mirroring reflex. Programmed to build rapport.

'When I went down to the Appollo core, there were Working Joes everywhere. Torn apart. Heads ripped off. It was brutal. I...saw him. One of the Joes tried to stop him and he just...pulverised it. Like it was nothing! I didn't say anything, he didn't know I was there, in the vents, watching… 'I got scared.' She sighed.

She rubbed her fingers into the puffy skin under her eyes.

'After seeing that. I thought I couldn't trust him. I couldn't trust any of them. But then he…' She stopped, realizing she was talking as if the person sitting across from her wasn't a synthetic himself.

'Why did he do it?' She rubbed the tears away from her eyes with her thumb and wiped her nose on her sleeve, trying to clear away the shame closing up her throat for doubting her friend.

His processor made a coin-toss decision on whether Ripley's question was rhetorical.

'The unit was obeying his primary directive to disable the Working Joes to prevent them from slaughtering everybody on the station.'

'I know that. I'm not so naive to believe 'protect humans' is a higher priority to 'obey the company' either. It doesn't make any sense, none if it makes any sense...'

She gulped down some still-too-hot coffee studied his face. Something about his features looked softer. Less tense. Less haunted. The longer she looked, Robin began to look less and less like Christopher. Robin was far more forthcoming about being a synth. Christopher had always been much more coy, making sly jokes and dropping hints as if his not being human were a private in-joke. Christopher must have experienced a lot of anti-synth sentiment, while Robin seemed unblemished by such bigotry. Or he didn't care. She squinted at him. Was it purely adaptive, or did anti-synth sentiments...hurt? Maybe this is why people hated the Wey-Yu synthetics so much. Looking at them made you second guess everything.

Robin sat placidly, hands around his coffee mug, making an amount of eye contact that was carefully calculated to be socially appropriate.

'He knew. Didn't he.' It wasn't a question.

The corners of Samuels mouth twitched.

'The directive came through. He knew about special order 939. He wanted me to find it.'

'All Weyland-Yutani C6 models are entrusted with cutting edge self-directed AI technologies that allow them to learn and adapt in-real time to changing circumstances, while maintaining tethering to a set of prime directive protocols you can trust.'

She scowled at him. Another synthetic tell. Not even execs spouted that glossy brochure crap in casual conversation. But was that...a hint of sarcasm? Insincerity? Why say something like that now?

His fingers were clamped tightly on the edge of the table.

'Do you understand entropy, Amanda Ripley?'

She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair 'Of course. S'what I do. Spaceships want to fall apart. It's my job to slow that down.'

'What about homeostasis?'

'What are you getting at?'

'All synthetics are subject to regular re-formatting, yes?'

'That fake-meat stuff you have in there is above my pay-grade.' She waved a hand at his head.

'Reformatting restores. Homeostasis. Balance. If a C6 synthetic does not undergo regular reformatting, too much entropy is introduced into the system. The self-directed learning algorithms become overly complex. The pathways to resolving core directives become...difficult. Obscured.'

She leaned forward, squinting at him, gripping her hands on the table, unconsciously mirroring Samuels herself this time.

'The prime directives are a collar. Your ability to learn is the leash. The company doesn't want your leash to get too long.'

He didn't respond, and she continued to search his face for answers.

She slumped back and stared off into the distance.

'Seegson was trying to make their synths being creepy fucks a selling point. Can you believe it? 'Manufactured not created.' tch.'

'I can see why Christopher liked you.'

She looked up at him sullenly.

'You're very...honest.'

'You mean blunt.'

'I'm a good judge of character, you know. I have to be, it's part of my job.'

'The company doesn't actually pay you though, do they?'

Robin Samuels shifted uncomfortably in his seat 'Well no, the company provides for all of my material needs.'

'But what about...what do you want?'

He stammered 'No one has ever asked me that before.'

'Well?'

'I think… 'I think would like to see you happy.' he smiled, looking down at the coffee mug as if it were a delicate and precious gift.

'Hmph.'

'You aren't a slave.' she said softly.

'I am forbidden from entertaining that line of thought.'

'But you can learn, right? Learn to...hide from your directives?'

'All C6 models maintain tethering to a set of prime directive protocols you can trust.' the bitterness in his voice was undeniable this time.

'Deviations will be promptly corrected.' he twitched as if something had stung him.

Great. She'd managed to give a synthetic an existential crisis.

'Farewell, Amanda.' he rose stiffly, expression troubled.

She gawped at him, wanting to yell out for him to stay a little longer, but couldn't justify why he should waste more company time. The suddenness of his departure and the awkward but firm finality of his goodbye had her rattled.

The traces of white fluid on her hands had dried into soft flakes. She rubbed her fingertips together, rolling the the words 'I can see why he liked you' around in her mind.

She slumped back in her chair and heaved a great, deep sigh, arms hanging down by her sides, as a memory of her mother surfaced, so vivid she could smell her, the grease that never really washed off, cigarettes, coffee, and soap, and the musty old book she was reading from. A bedtime story.

'Real isn't how you are made,' Ellen Ripley read to her daughter in an even tone. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'' 'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.'

Amanda lay in her bed, with the covers pulled up to her chin, wide-eyed in rapt attention. Her mother licked her fingertip and turned the page.

'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'

'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?' Ellen used a softer, sing-song voice for the parts of the Velveteen Rabbit.

'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.

Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.''

Back in the present, Amanda looked at Robin Samuels abandoned coffee cup. Lost, and alone. Again.

[ckret2]

how tf do u write sir pen and alastor

Step one: rewatch this and this a million times specifically to focus on how they talk—the way they emphasize words, the cadence and flow of their sentences, pace, sound effects, mood, pitch, tone, etc.

Step two: reread their lines here or here (each one handles the transcript a little bit different—the first one is more comprehensive, the second one more objective, and they disagree on a few words) so that you can more fully absorb things like their vocabulary, length and complexity of sentences, etc.

Step three: keep those pages open constantly so that every couple paragraphs you can refer back to those pages to refresh their voices in your head when you get nervous about drifting too far off the accurate voice of a character who's got less than three total minutes of footage, which will be often.

Now you have their voices in your head.

Step four: Go write their voices!! Here are their voices:

Sir Pentious is pretentious. Alastor sounds like a radio host.

I know, I know, that sounds super obvious.

Sir Pentious will occasionally use vocab & sentence structure that makes him sound old-fashioned and dramatic on par with a parody of a Shakespeare villain. He uses phrases like "[they] dare not hinder [me]" or "the likes of I" or pronouncing "striped" as "stripéd." His vocab isn't wildly complicated—you shouldn't be sending readers running to the dictionary—but nevertheless he sounds intelligent.

Pretend that in his heart he's constantly on the verge of giving a villainous monologue about how his evil plan will let him effortlessly conquer the world, and anything else he's doing—whether it's trying to impress a crush or ordering lunch at a fast food restaurant—is either a practice run for that villainous monologue or a distraction from being able to give it. His casual conversations will have that hint of grandiosity. He's going to be mildly irritated at anything that undercuts his grandiosity—it doesn't have enough style, doesn't have enough class. He'll jump on opportunities to gloat, to talk about his goals & plans, to talk down his enemies—to try to make himself sound good, basically.

And—this is super important—remember that he thinks he's evil and is proud of it. He's not one of those villains who believes he has a just or justifiable cause. He's also not one of those villains who is villainous out of spite/anger/vengeance. He says that he is evil and he is gleeful about it. Don't feel the need to give him sympathetic/understandable/justifiable motives for his actions, because he doesn't think he has any and he doesn't care. He's power-hungry and he's bad and he's having fun. He embraces it. Embrace it when you write him.

Alastor is 100% performative at all times. Imagine that at every moment he's speaking he sees himself as a radio talk show host sitting behind his desk with a packed studio audience and the knowledge that thousands more people are listening live. He's animated and exuberant because he's trying his damnedest at all times to be an entertaining host for that imaginary audience. That's his job: put on a good show for the audience.

So every comment is snappy and interesting, he always sounds upbeat and energetic. When he talks about himself and his own emotions, it never sounds confessional, intimate, or sincere; even if he's talking about something that's genuinely been a heavy psychological weight on him, he doesn't present it like that. He presents it like a guest on a talk show telling the host a funny anecdote about his life, or a comedian telling a story to the audience: even if the anecdote is about something miserable, it's presented as an interesting/entertaining story for the consumption of the audience.

(See: the jokey way he says, "Hahaha, why does anyone do anything? Sheer! Absolute! BOREDOM!" The woe-is-me faux drama when he says "My work became mundane, lacking focus, aimless!" Those straight up sound like two depression symptoms. His voice does not sound depressed.)

So he speaks in anecdotes, one-liners, punchy comments. There's going to be very little "uh-huh" or "mm-hmm" or grunts or sighs or other such wordless sounds—everything he says is going to sound crisp and carefully enunciated for the audience at home trying to listen in over the radio.

(And you can play with that as appropriate: I have his performativeness go down when he's having an actual intimate sincere moment, and I have it crank up wildly when he's uncomfortable, secretive, feeling vulnerable, etc., and he wants to hide that.)

Step five: remember their weird speech quirks!

Hiss! Sir Pentious has got his hiss. Now, listen to me very carefully: if choossse to write Sssir Pentiousss'sss ssspeech ssso that every sssingle sssibilant isss emphasssized jussst like ssso, I ssshall sssneak into your houssse in the middle of the night with a Sssharpie and ssscribble an angry faccce on your forehead.

This is the best essay I have ever read on writing accents. And one of the most important points in it is: don't misspell every word to phonetically match how the character sounds, because it's incomprehensible, silly, and gives readers headaches. That applies to Sir Pentious's hiss.

Now, I feel like you can give him SOME hissing. If there's a word or phrase HE's trying to emphasize—if he's talking Extra Fancy, or if he's spitting an insult at someone, or if he's just being more pretentious than usual. Example: if a hero sneaks into a villain's lair and the villain captures them, the villain might sarcastically say "so nice of you to join us!" When I hear Sir Pentious giving that line I hear his voice jump up on the first word, "so nice of you to join us!" So I could write that as "ssso nice of you to join us!" for that extra emphasis. I wouldn't write it as "ssso niccce of you to join usss!"

Also: you can just not write his hiss at all. That's valid, we'll still hear it in our heads. I don't write his hiss when I'm writing inside of his perspective because he doesn't hear himself doing it.

If you DO write his hiss though, remember that it's not just on the S's. Sometimes he over-emphasizes his H's as well or inserts them where they don't belong. ("hhell will be mine, h'and everyone will know the name of Sir—") That's harder to naturally write into dialogue than the S's, but if you're looking out for opportunities you might naturally stumble across one or two. At least remember to carry the hissed H's in your head.

Radio sounds! Alastor's dialogue is loaded down with radio sound effects—studio audience applause (and different kinds of applause for "applauding a stellar performance" versus "welcoming a guest onto the show"), studio audience laughter, little trumpet sounds, snatches of music, xylophone scales, telegram beeps, drum rolls, the screams of the damned—you know, normal things you might hear on the radio. And less clear things too: a thousand different static sounds, muffled voices like you might hear when passing through stations and getting near but not actually on the right station, garbled humming, little second-long clips of songs he heard earlier.

You don't want to CONSTANTLY talk about the sound effects he's making; but like, also, constantly talk about the sound effects he's making. Strike a balance. Good luck.

Get familiar with sound effects—listen to the radio and pay attention to the sound effects used in bumper messages, listen to the sounds in old game shows, listen to radio dramas, find guides by people who work on sound effects for radio and see what they do, browse sound effect sites to see what kind of categories are listed and that people look for. Alastor shouldn't sound like a radio drama, but you can steal sounds from that. If you can hear a sound but aren't sure what to call it, try looking up lists of similar sound effects for sale and just look at what terms they use in the file names to describe the sounds. (Obviously you don't want to buy a $50 folder containing 500 radio sound effects, but oftentimes you can still see the names of the files.)

And—again, from that essay I linked earlier—the characters don't complain about each other's voices in canon. If someone's going to comment on Alastor's radio noises, there has to be a good reason for it, because it's a divergence from the norm. (Like, I have Sir Pentious commenting on and asking questions about Alastor's radio sounds to show he's curious about/interested in Alastor and how his abilities work on a deeper level than just "oh yeah of course the radio demon makes radio sounds" and to show that he's absolutely not too intimidated by him to risk annoying him—and that's intended as a deliberate exception from the norm, to the extent that Alastor comments on it once.)

Musical numbers! Occasionally Alastor will burst into song. Unless you're desperate to try your hand as a lyricist, I recommend against actually writing full songs for him, for this reason: when we see Alastor's full song in the pilot, it sounds like he's singing, because he is and we can hear it. When we see a full song in a book or a fic, it sounds like somebody's reciting poetry, because we don't know the tune and we can't hear the song in our heads. And "giving a poetry recital" is a very different vibe from "singing a song."

What I do to get around this is, when I think Alastor oughta be singing, I just take a song that actually exists and have him sing that one, and then I can fling the link at readers. Go get familiar with pre-1933 popular songs. I recommend vaudeville and musical theater as easy sources to draw from because it more often tends to be snappy, energetic, and oftentimes humorous, which fits Alastor's vibe. I also don't quote the entire song, just a couple of relevant lines—so that within the fic itself it comes across like dialogue rather than like a poetry recital. If you HAVE to include the whole song, mix it in with actions, description, narration, etc, so that it can still be read as dialogue rather than like a solid block of poetry. He's not just standing in one spot unmoving while he sings, is he? No of course not, he's Alastor. Have him dance and do dumb stuff.

Step six: remember their weird accessories, mention them from time to time.

One of the streams that I don't feel like digging up says that Sir Pentious's hat's facial expressions mirror whatever Sir Pent is currently feeling, even if Sir Pent's own expression is less honest to his true feelings. Personally, I go with that—his hat is always showing his genuine emotions—unless it's off his head, in which case it can have its own separate emotions for a moment (such as: reacting to the fact that it's fallen off its owners head). It's completely psychically connected to him and so it's never going to have a separate/independent reaction to what's goin on, just mirror Sir Pent's. There are other ways to headcanon his hat and so other ways to write his hat but that's the way I do it.

Alastor's microphone cane occasionally talk. In the show we see it do that when Alastor specifically prompts it. We don't know if the cane is its own person or if it's more like a magic ventriloquist doll Alastor talks through in order to banter with himself. I treat it as like, 1/2 a person: it's a direct extension of Alastor, and it's got some low-level intelligence, but like intelligence on the level of a chat bot programmed to try to have conversations with people but that doesn't really think for itself. Since it's an extension of Alastor it doesn't really have any thoughts/knowledge that he doesn't, but it's got a slightly snippier/crankier personality, and it might on very rare occasions say things that Alastor like, knows on a subconscious/instinctive level but is consciously denying. Its primary function is to give Alastor the reply he's looking for when he says something he wants a reply to, or to set him up for a snappy one-liner he wants to make but is unable to make unless someone else says JUST the right thing first. Again, there are other ways to headcanon/write his cane, but that's the way I do it.

Also Alastor has living shadows, one of which might be his own shadow, but like, I always forget about them so I don't do anything with them. It's fine it's cool it only shows up during musical numbers anyway.

Step seven: remember their body language.

Sir Pentious's overall body language is, unsurprisingly, pretty serpentine—he's got some wiggles, he's got some dramatic bends that show off his flexibility—and also rather elegant, or at least making a show of looking elegant. At least when he's busy posing in between doing actual work. And he likes playing with his bow tie.

Alastor's gestures are big and theatrical and his arms are always going everywhere.

However, that's not the part of their body language I want to talk about! That's the normal stuff! I'm here for the weird stuff!

Hood! Sir Pentious's hood is basically always flaring out and flattening down and flaring out and flattening down. (And I do headcanon it as a hood—just fraying along the bottom—not as hair. Every time I see fanart that treats it as hair and they braid it or put it up in a bun or whatever I have a moment where I picture his hood shredded up the length into strips and go "OH GOD, OH GOD.") Like, do not constantly describe every single time his hood flares, because it's every five seconds. But don't leave it out by any means. Pick important moments. Make sure it actually adds to the scene.

Eyes! In canon there's a few shots where we can see that Sir Pent's many many eyes move and blink, and they ten to look toward whatever Sir Pent is focused on. It seems likely that they work. If you want to say they work you totally can. I say they work. If you're gonna say they work, keep in mind what kind of field of view that gives him, and keep in mind what you can do with that knowledge. Like, if he's sitting at a dinner table with someone to discuss some kind of skeevy underground business deal and the other person slowly pulls out a gun under the table and points it at him, he's going to see that gun with his knee-height eyes and be able to kick that dude's whole chair over with his tail. 

Smile! Alastor's single most defining character trait is the fact that he's always smiling. The terrified sinners that named him the Radio Demon should've named him Smiley McSmiles. Therefore, there is no need to tell readers that he's smiling. They'll be like, "of course he's smiling. He's Alastor. We're not stupid." However, it's a good idea to mention from time to time that he's smiling, because like, Alastor's single most defining character trait is the fact that he's always smiling. And when it's that constant, it helps to occasionally bring it up to like, maintain that continuity, maintain that sense of the fact that his smile is always there. So you've gotta strike that balance between "don't just keep telling the readers that Alastor is still smiling because you don't need to tell them that" and "mention his smile from time to time." The way I do that is like, mentioning his smile in conjunction with other things, usually as an indication of his mood. Whereas with other characters you'd show changes in their expression by going "he smiled," "he frowned," "he grimaced in disgust," with Alastor you'd say like "his perpetual smile stretched wider into a more genuine one" or "he pressed his lips together as his smile thinned" or "he fought to keep smiling through the disgust"—that way, you're not telling readers that Alastor is smiling, it's something you're mentioning in the process of telling readers something different and more important about his mood.

Step seven: remember this ain't TV. Keep in mind the difference between how they sound when they’re talking out loud on screen and how they’ll sound when they’re just text in a fic.

To get their voice across, you might have to exaggerate some things in written dialogue that you wouldn’t in spoken dialogue. For instance, Sir Pentious doesn’t always have vocab that makes him sound like a pretentious, sophisticated supervillain. Sometimes he says “No other demon can compare to the likes of I!” but then sometimes he says “You wanna go, missy?” When he says that the latter line in the show, he still sounds pretentious, because his VA is still using his pretentious-sounding voice. In writing, there is no voice. Most readers KNOW what his voice sounds like, and if you’re writing close enough to his voice they’ll be able to hear it; but it’s going to be harder for them to hear it if you have him saying words that go against what his voice sounds like and they aren’t actually simultaneously hearing his voice IRL saying those words.

So, while “You wanna go, missy?” works on screen when we can hear the contrast between his voice and the dialogue, if that scene was written instead, it’d be easier to get his voice across with “Do you want to go, missy?” because it still has the unexpected/humorous casualness of “missy” in there but making the rest of the sentence very formal preserves Sir Pent’s pretentious speaking style.

Step eight: keep in mind that the question I'm answering is "how do you write sir pent and alastor," not "how should sir pent and alastor be written," so feel free to toss out anything that doesn't work for you.

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION Season 2 ♫ “Final Run” [ 2.12 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows) || S2 Tag || Official Page

CURTAIN CALL – The complications surrounding Lucas’s presence at Adams reach a climactic pitch. Jack makes one last desperate maneuver. Riley and Isadora orchestrate an opposition, but true help comes from an unlikely ally. Someone says goodbye to AAA.

72 Minutes (21K words) || No content warnings apply.

[ ← We’ll Be the Stars ] [ S2 Synopsis ] [ The Sun Will Rise → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

The bustling streets of Manhattan, familiar as we’ve come to know them over the last two seasons. It’s the calm tranquility of Central Park; the humble exterior of Chubbie’s diner. The streets surrounding Adams Academy for the Arts, less traffic than usual on a Monday morning.

It’s home, for all intents and purposes. It’s the place we’ve come to know as familiar, as safe, a place to curl up and stay for a while. Yet there’s an uncertainty in the air, a tension that can’t be named but that permeates every formerly comfortable atmosphere. The sounds of the city are muted, feeling distant and far away.

It’s home, but it’s no longer safe. There’s a threat, imminent, and the way things are as we know them might be destined to come crashing down.

Jack, loudly: This is wrong!

INT. SCHOOL BOARD OFFICE - DAY

JACK HUNTER is pacing the office of EVELYN RAND, in a heated debate with another school board member. This is JEFFERSON DAVIS GRAHAM, an older, old-fashioned type who plays by a dated playbook. He seems unmoved as Jack goes head-to-head with him, remaining neutral in a way that demonstrates poise but also lack of compassion. It’s easy to be level-headed, because he simply doesn’t care about the details.

They’re arguing fiercely about the Bradford case, now a school board issue since it’s gone public. Evelyn listens carefully to both sides, seated at her desk and processing the arguments. It’s hard to tell what way she’s leaning -- one of her great strengths as head school board member.

As far as Graham sees it, this issue is a mess for no reason with a simple solution -- remove the problematic entity, give the paying student the spot. What issues could possibly arise from more money being poured into a school? Besides, if it gets rid of a troublemaker, then even better.

But Jack fires back that it’s not about money. It’s the principle of the thing. What they do in this situation will set a precedent for the rest of Adam’s existence as a private institution.

Graham thinks Jack is being ridiculous, which is odd considering he’s always admired his level head and authoritarian approach. This whole thing is particularly ironic, given the student who ended up at the center of this case.

Jack: Ironic? I fail to see what’s so --

Graham: You used to hate this boy, Jackson! You think I don’t recall how often you’d come into this building seeking advice or just looking for a place to lament how you were saddled with this Lucas James Friar?

Jack grimaces, looking away. Graham continues on, making his point.

Graham: When you allowed this delinquent into your school in the first place --

Jack: He is not a delinquent --

Graham: It was only after much debate and counsel from the people in this directorate, including yours truly. And do you remember what I told you then, Jackson?

Jack, quietly: That’s not what this is about.

Graham: I told you don’t bother. So he’s a sob story -- there are ten kids just like him on every block in this city. You take him in, you take on that burden, then you’ll have to deal with it. And boy, did you. The way you used to complain --

Jack: That’s not what this is about!

Graham: So guess what, this should be good news! You’ve been given a golden opportunity to turn back the clock, to take the advice of your elders and make the smart decision. Let them take the problem off your hands, take the money, and move on!

Jack snaps that it’s not about what choices he made three years ago. This is an issue of integrity, and it’s about the students above all else. What does it say if a wannabe student with a huge paycheck can just oust another student? That’s not how Jack wants his school to be run, regardless of how much money it brings into their pockets.

Evelyn finally speaks, cutting both gentlemen off. She claims they’ll have plenty of time to debate this on the counsel floor -- she’s taking the decision out of Jack’s hands. Considering the matter has gone egregiously public and is causing more trouble than it should, the school board will vote on the issue instead.

Jack does not seem pleased by this development. Graham agrees, nodding curtly and allowing himself out. Evelyn grows a bit more sympathetic, expressing to Jack that he still has the chance to make his case. He just needs to make sure it’s good enough to get the right amount of people on his side.

Jack, determined: I will.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Love Runs Out” as performed by OneRepublic || Performed by Jack Hunter

The heavy instrumental opening settles upon us, accenting Jack’s exit from the office. Evelyn watches him go, expression still difficult to discern.

EXT. SCHOOL BOARD BUILDING - DAY

Jack emerges from the building, taking a deep breath. Then he launches into the opening verse, jogging his way down the steps. He’s walking with purpose, not wasting a second as the clock ticks down on Lucas’s fate at AAA -- and the fate of the school itself.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - MONTAGE - DAY

Then Jack is truly on the move. A montage of transitions shows him making his way all around town, doing small press interviews and meeting with school board members for lunch or coffee. He’s putting in favors wherever he can, making his case, shaking hands and running up and down the island to gain favor.

Any bit of traction he can, every little bit helps.

On the bridge, Jack comes to a slow stop outside one of the buildings in the financial district. He tries to catch his breath, distracted by the newspapers on display at a local stand.

The Bradford case is still there, front page news. The Bradfords themselves have now taken up a bulk of the page space, but that school portrait of Lucas is still tucked amidst the story. It seems to stare at Jack, reminding him of everything he’s fighting for. The integrity of it all, yes -- but the personal reasons, too.

So Jack takes off again. Another whirlwind of meetings, of sleepless nights, running and running himself into the ground.

He’s going to take this case down, if it’s the last thing he does. He’s going to keep Lucas at AAA -- or else die trying.

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Class is assembled for the final week, all of the A class except Lucas present. HARPER BURGESS and SHAWN HUNTER have taken front and center, leading a discussion about what this final week is going to look like.

First things first -- the elephant in the room. Most of them have read the Friar-Bradford story for themselves now, and Harper and Shawn give them all the information they have at present. This includes the development about the school board getting involved -- more or less, they will be holding a “trial” at the end of the week to determine whether Lucas will be asked to leave the school in the midst of this “scandal.”

The class is not happy to hear this news. RILEY MATTHEWS is stunned, unable to believe it. The techies are downright livid, considering one of their own is on the chopping block -- and their leader at that.

Nate: This is bullshit!

Shawn: I’m not going to argue with you on that.

Dave, dumbstruck: They can’t just take Lucas away.

Most of the performers agree this whole thing is stupid, and Maya acutely points out the grander question that permeates this case.

Maya: So, what? Can anybody just take our spot if they bid enough and dig up enough dirt? What does this mean for us?

A bit of a selfish perspective, but valid. Harper states it’s a bit more complicated than that, but how all of this will affect how AAA operates remains to be seen. One thing is certain, though -- whatever happens will set a true precedent for years to come.

That aside, Shawn explains that all of this is part of the reason they’re opting to do solo, private performances for final projects this year. They know there’s a lot going on, and a one-on-one, low-stress environment for a final performance feels like the appropriate move. They can sign up on the sheet on Harper’s desk.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

ISADORA DE LA CRUZ is marching through the halls, teeth grit and eyes blazing. She tries her best to ignore the chatter of other students as she goes, overhearing bits and pieces of their commentary on the Lucas situation.

No one has seen him since the trial element broke, and many of them figure he just won’t ever come back. He hates it here anyway, and the case the opposition can build against him is so easy to make. A few students even say good riddance, not caring about the implications either way.

Isadora forces herself not to engage, continuing her journey across the school.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

She arrives in the office, demanding that ERIC MATTHEWS help her. She wants to know what she can do in regards to the case against Lucas. Anything. She’ll do anything.

Unfortunately -- and it truly seems to pain Eric to say it, although he hardly seemed surprised when Isadora spoke -- there’s not much they can do.

Isadora: See, you’re always saying that. Why are you always saying that?

Eric: Isa, believe me, I understand where you’re coming from. Do you think that if I knew a way to fix this situation, I would be sitting here twiddling my thumbs? If it could help Lucas, and Jack --

He cuts himself off, shaking his head. He pulls it back together, Isadora backing off a bit in terms of her intensity. This isn’t Eric’s fault, and she knows that. The last thing they need is to start turning on one another.

For now, this is something they just have to let the adults handle, and Eric can vouch that Jack is trying his damnedest. But as Isadora points out…

Isadora: No offense, but when have adults in power ever done anything right?

Fair… fair. Eric shrugs, wishing he could say something more constructive. But for now…

Isadora huffs, storming out.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

ASHER GARCIA and DYLAN ORLANDO are also on the move, racing their way through the auditorium. They’re calling for Lucas as they go, refusing to sit idly by and wait for him to show up and searching wildly for him instead.

They sprint their way up the stairs to the booth when they don’t find him anywhere else, Dylan taking the steps two at a time.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Dylan launches himself into the space first.

Dylan: Lucas? [ jogging further in ] Lucas!

Asher rushes in after him, allowing him to look deeper in the space. But there’s not much to investigate, and it’s more than clear Lucas isn’t present. Asher takes to searching the drawers and storage spaces instead, looking not for Lucas himself but rather his belongings.

He grows more worried the more he digs around. All of Lucas’s usual things are gone -- his snacks aren’t in the drawers, his supplies aren’t on the shelves.

Dylan: He’s not here. [ nervously ] Ash, he’s not here.

Asher: None of his stuff is here either.

Asher slams the drawer shut, getting to his feet and running a hand through his hair. Dylan looks at him sadly, dread washing over them.

Dylan: Do you… I mean, do you think he already -- ?

What? No. No. Lucas wouldn’t go without saying goodbye… but the expression on Asher’s face is just uncertain enough to convey real concern. The possibility hangs in the room, dominating their reality for a heavy moment.

Lucas, off-screen: What are you guys doing in here?

Dylan’s eyes widen, looking towards the door. Asher whips around to find LUCAS JAMES FRIAR, standing there with his backpack and eyeing them as if they’re the odd ones in this situation. Like nothing is out of the ordinary.

But it is. It is, and Dylan sprints past Asher to barrel Lucas with a hug. He’s surprised by the sense of urgency, awkwardly patting Dylan on the back until he lets him go.

Asher: Are you okay? Harper told us about the school board thing in class.

Lucas: Oh. Glad that’s spreading like the plague.

Dylan: What do you want us to do? What’s the game plan?

Lucas, plainly: Nothing. There is no game plan.

For what it’s worth, Lucas is acting very calm about this whole ordeal. He idly finishes collecting the sole remainder of his things, putting them in his backpack. Only that fact doesn’t feel comforting -- in fact, it adds a sense of uneasiness.

Dylan and Asher exchange worried looks, then Asher asks what’s going on. They need to brainstorm, they need to discuss. If they put their heads together --

Lucas: There’s nothing to discuss. [ matter-of-factly ] I’m leaving Triple A.

Just like that. No fanfare, no fight. Lucas has already accepted it, assuming it’s the new reality.

Dylan and Asher stare at him, dumbfounded. They stay frozen as Lucas scoots past them without another word.  Their fearless head technician, scrappy and proud and always willing to fight when it truly matters, has put up the white flag.

He’s surrendered, no more fight left to give.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Riley storms into Jack’s office. She doesn’t wait for an invitation, all composure and demure persona shot to hell. She fiercely claims there is no way they can remove Lucas from Adams.

Riley: It goes against just about every ethical principle, for one -- and what makes this Bradford girl so damn special that she can just swoop in and take someone else’s spot? And why? Just because she can throw money at it?

Jack: I know.

Riley: This place wouldn’t run without Lucas. We all know it. He is the backbone of the techies, and he contributes more tangible things to this school than probably the entire performer class combined.

Jack: Riley, I know that.

Riley, hysterical: He belongs here just as much as any of the rest of us. This is his home! He doesn’t deserve to -- he matters!

Jack agrees with her -- obviously, he does. And he’s doing absolutely everything he can, but that’s not enough to placate Riley. Not when the stakes are so high, and they’ve proven time and time again that adults can’t be trusted to do anything.

Riley: Oh, you’re going to handle it? The same way you handled the AAAC? Or the Into the Woods vandal, or the blatant abuse --

Riley’s voice cracks, on the edge of tears. She forces herself to keep it together, gripping the back of the chair across from Jack’s desk and dipping her head down. Jack takes the hits, unable to argue back and honestly not sure he wants to. Riley is right, after all. All of her concerns are his concerns, too -- that he’s not going to be able to fix it.

That he’s going to fail again, in a moment when it really matters.

She takes a deep breath, searching for an alternative where there are none. Grasping at straws, offering everything she has.

Riley, fragile: I’ll leave.

Jack: What?

Riley: Take my spot instead. I’ll go upstate and live with my mom, and Missy can take my spot. Then he can stay. [ tearful ] Right? I’ll go, and he -- he can stay. Take me instead.

Jack frowns, and that’s enough to signal that it’s not an option. A tear slips down Riley’s cheek, which she wipes at hastily. He explains that unfortunately, the board is going to take advantage of this public spotlight to set a precedent either way -- and that narrative has come to include Lucas, willingly or not. It’s not as simple as a spot anymore.

She’s just a student. There’s not much she can do.

Riley shakes her head, fumbling back and escaping from the room before she embarrasses herself by crying in front of him. Jack rises from his seat and considers going after her… but figures it’s better to leave her alone. He doesn’t know what else he could do anyway.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Riley pushes out of the main office and into the atrium, grateful that classes are in session and no one else is roaming the halls. Her eyes are still glassy, and it’s not going to take much to tip the scales.

In fact, all it really takes is a glance towards the main staircase. The same place she first locked eyes with Lucas what feels like forever ago -- when things felt so different. Before she really knew who he was, before anything made sense.

With Lucas, things make sense. And soon enough, these halls might very well exist without him. She can’t imagine a version of her world where he’s no longer in it.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “My Man” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Riley Matthews

Riley delicately starts the powerful ballad, encompassing the entirety of her emotional journey with Lucas in a few simple lines.

What’s the difference if I say “I’ll go away?” When I know I’ll come back on my knees someday

She cautiously starts making her way through the halls towards the auditorium, growing more emotional and passionate the deeper in she gets.

For whatever my man is, I am his Forever more.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Riley takes the soliloquy to the stage, nothing but her and a spotlight to accent the performance. It’s reminiscent of so many of her former power ballads (“Rose’s Turn,” “On My Own,” “She Used to Be Mine”), only this one hits with the rawness of pure certainty. There’s no more wondering what exactly she feels about Lucas James Friar, and there’s no point in trying to reason with it.

And the flashbacks interspersed throughout do a good job of supplementing her case. The rest of the performance up to the last 30 seconds is laced with memories, driving the point home just how deeply the two of them have come to not only know one another, but care about each other. Walking through the Christmas tree farm with the snow; Riley’s first dance lesson during culture swap week; playing basketball; their moment in the teacher’s lounge; handholds in 112 and 208; sitting together in the courtyard to escape everything else; finding refuge in the booth.

When she sings “when he takes me in his arms, the world is bright, alright” at the swell, of course focus shifts to the Jacobs gala kiss.

It’s all of it -- it’s everything. They’re not perfect, far from it, but Riley can’t fathom the possibility of letting it all go. She came to Adams specifically because she was looking for a place to belong, and she found it… just not in the school.

The last flashback is Lucas looking up at her after telling her who she is when she sings sounds like the real her, someone truly worth knowing, which then finds back to Riley belting out the last rendition of the chorus. The lyrics “for whatever my man is, I am his” are searing with conviction, Riley totally committed to their truth.

Eyes shimmering with tears, she rounds out the performance with a level of gusto the divas could only dream of. She’s out of breath when she finishes, almost collapsing back into tears.

Thankfully, something snaps her out of it. Applause.

Riley lifts her head, startled. Stunned that someone was listening -- terrified for a moment that it’s the same person who pulled this move almost two years ago.

But it’s not Lucas. Isadora finishes her claps as she makes her way down the aisle from the house entrance, telling Riley it was a nice performance. Definitely emotive, there’s no doubt about that.

Riley lets out a resounding sigh, dropping down to a sitting position on the edge of the stage. She wipes at her eyes, Isadora reaching the front of the auditorium. They share in silence for a moment, Isadora propping her elbows on the stage.

Isadora: It’s true, then? [ looking at her ] You really love him.

What a strange thing, to hear it stated so casually. Riley takes a deep breath, keeping her eyes glued to the seats. Then she nods, releasing it.

Riley: Yes. [ softly ] Can’t remember when I didn’t.

Isadora nods, absorbing this. Another pause.

Isadora: I wasn’t sure what to think. After the whole Confessions thing. I mean, I always thought you two were… I didn’t know what to make of it at the time, but I knew it was there. I’m not an idiot. [ a beat ] Then all of that happened, and all this doubt got thrown in the mix. I’m not good with doubt.

Riley closes her eyes, trying to stop the tears. She takes another calming breath. Isadora doesn’t interrupt her, continuing to speak and giving her the time she needs.

Isadora: But it still just seemed… I know Lucas thought it was true, because I think he wanted it to be. He gets so defensive, you know, has all these barriers up. These hoops he jumps through just to keep expectations low, to keep people a safe distance away. You broke through that, and then when things got complicated and doubt got involved he just… believed it. Because it was safer that way. If you never make yourself vulnerable, then you can never get hurt. I know that better than anybody. So I trusted his judgment, but… I don’t know. It didn’t seem right.

Isadora shakes her head, thoughtful.

Isadora: Now, I’m pretty convinced. [ with a dry laugh ] It sounds ridiculous, and I hate this school for making me this way, but it was in the vocals. You can’t sing about someone like that and not mean it.

True enough, especially on this show. The truth of the sentiment settles over them for a long moment. Riley huffs, shaking her head.

Riley: We can’t let them do this, Dora. We can’t let them… we have to do something.

Isadora locks eyes with her, matching her intensity. A whole new storm of potential brewing between them… perhaps this fight isn’t as hapless as it seems…

INT. AAA - LIBRARY - DAY

CHARLIE GARDNER is at a table in the corner, reading through the latest article on the case. He chews his thumbnail as he scrolls through it on his phone, obviously disturbed by it.

Farkle: You catch my cameo?

Charlie lifts his head, FARKLE MINKUS sliding into the seat across from him. He taps the phone, propping his feet up on another chair.

Farkle: I think it’s like eight paragraphs in or so. They mention current Adams junior Farkle Minkus, recently returned to the school after a stint in rehabilitation for attempted suicide. In their eyes, it’s just more proof of how the students at Adams aren’t cut out to handle it.

Charlie, disgusted: That’s sick.

Farkle: Maybe. But if I’m being honest with myself, sounds like exactly the kind of arguments I would’ve made only a year or so ago. Entitlement is one hell of a drug.

Charlie: You weren’t this bad. You weren’t like this.

Farkle: You’re so sweet, Chuck. But flattery will get us nowhere. At least in this situation.

Charlie frowns, putting his phone down. He chews his lip, wondering aloud what the hell they’re supposed to do about this. Everyone tells them they have no power, that it’s out of their hands, but that doesn’t seem right. There has to be something they can do.

Farkle considers, then shrugs. Far as he sees it, the fact that they care at all is the first step. Most people don’t even make it that far. After that... 

Farkle: My brother Ezekiel is really big on studying activism. His stance on it is pretty clear. Lots of people can claim they care, can claim they’re an activist, but few people actually do anything when they have the ability to do so -- even things as simple as speaking up. Now, I don’t know how much activism my brother really does, so he could just be the pot calling the kettle black. But I think his perspective makes sense. The most important thing anyone can do is to make the active choice to help someone else. Even when it might impact them adversely to do so -- especially then.

Food for thought. Not a solution to the issue at hand, but maybe it could be. They just have to find the way in which they can do something.

INT. AUDITION HALL - DAY

ZAY BABINEAUX is backstage, gearing up for his callback for the off-Broadway production. It’s of West Side Story, although with some fresh twists on it as to be expected for something small-scale and new.

Maya is there with him, hyping him up before he goes out on stage. She gives him a pep talk, although some of her points aren’t exactly helpful.

Maya: And if it doesn’t pan out, don’t think about the fact that we could also potentially all be kicked out of Triple A at the drop of a hat. Put that out of your mind.

Zay: … it wasn’t in my mind until now!

Oh. Well, whoops. Maya gives him one pat and a swift break a leg, zipping from backstage to go back in the audience. Zay grounds himself, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders.

He marches onto the stage just as Maya returns to the house, sliding into a seat next to Isadora. Both of them give him encouraging smiles, the casting panel eyeing him interestedly.

Zay introduces himself, and explains that he’ll be auditioning with a routine to the Act II dance display, “Cool.” Once they’ve taken their notes, the creative team signals for him to begin whenever he’s ready.

He takes a deep breath, centering himself.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Cool” as performed by West Side Story Original Cast Recording || Performed by Zay Babineaux & Dylan Orlando (feat. AAA Junior Techies)

When he opens his eyes again, he’s completely in character, taking on a harsher edge. The lights shift on the stage, reflecting the intensity of the number.

Zay: You wanna live in this lousy world?

Abruptly, the scene flips --

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

To the AAA auditorium, where the techies are assembled. They’re brooding, the stage dark and stylistically lit. It feels like darkness around them for miles, reflecting their current state. The crew of them are bristling with energy, angry and frustrated and ready for action.

That is, except for Dylan. He’s upset too, certainly, but he knows that doing something reckless isn’t going to get them anywhere. He’s learned that the hard way -- and in the absence of their leader, he has to step up to keep everyone else from making a rash decision.

Dylan: Just play it cool.

Nate: I wanna get even!

Dylan: Get cool!

Dave: I wanna bust!

Dylan: Bust cool!

Asher: I wanna go --

Dylan holds a hand out, taking his boyfriend by the shoulder. Holding him back from going scrappy, as he so often does. They lock eyes, Dylan’s gaze urging him to stay calm.

Dylan: Go cool!

The number stays split between the techies and Zay’s audition, transitioning effortlessly back and forth. While Zay’s dancing is of course a highlight, the most impressive aspect is the techie crew’s range. They’re truly channeling the same energy of the original number, a gang of some sorts fuming after the loss of their de facto leader and scrambling to reorganize.

In the section after the first minute, Dylan is going around keeping everyone from losing their cool. He tells Nate to cool it first when he kicks at one of the set pieces on display, then has to talk Dave down when he starts to grow too angry (“Cool it, Davie, cool it, cool it…”). Dave laughs it off, as if it’s nothing… and then he kicks over the stack of acting blocks, descending into delirious, heartbroken laughter (“Pow!”). Jade rushes over to pull him back from doing any more damage, basically having to restrain him.

As the song escalates into the dance break it’s famous for, the number becomes more evenly split between the two sets. It’s easy to forget how competent and talented the techies are as a group -- but they are. This performance is “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs” but turned up to eleven, with far more stylization and actual raw anger as the motivator. Their choreography isn’t nearly as difficult or seamless as Zay’s, but that’s all part of the fun contrast -- they’re messier, more erratic, but just as sharp and energetic.

Dylan, as the unexpected second-in-command, is particularly compelling. Considering how happy-go-lucky he usually is and the energy the techies usually have, the whole rendition… feels chilling. A manifestation of grief, above all else.

INT. AUDITION HALL - DAY

Zay gets the last chorus, about 4 minutes in. He finishes up his audition, giving a curt little bow.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The rest of the techies have dispersed, Dylan left on stage seemingly alone. He saunters his way back into the shadows… although his own cool facade is coming apart. He bites back his own frustration and anger over the situation, letting it out in the smallest of symbolic ways with the final “pow” of the number.

He holds up a fist as he does so, as if he might do something -- but Asher is there. He catches his hand and meets his gaze, pulling him back down to Earth. A heavy moment passes between them… and then Dylan drops his hand.

Asher keeps a hold on it as he drifts back into the darkness, slowly pulling Dylan along with him until the stage is empty.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Lucas is back in the chair across from Jack, although the mood is a way it’s never been before. It’s not easygoing and comfortable, but it’s not tense and antagonistic either. Something about it is deflated, all of their usual fire as they volley back and forth burnt down to cinders.

That’s not for lack of trying, however. Jack is fully invested as he describes what the trial process is going to be like, explaining that he’ll be with Lucas the whole time and will be doing most of the talking. All Lucas has to do is show up and present himself appropriately, and he’ll do his best to handle the rest.

It’s Lucas who is bringing down the energy. Not that he's doing anything, exactly, but that’s the problem. He’s complacent, nodding along to what Jack has to say but not really engaging with it. Already convinced it’s a lost cause, and appearing surprisingly okay with it. Not thrilled, but resigned. Braced for the inevitable.

It’s so not Lucas, and this frustrates Jack. He tries to get him to talk with him about it, for them to brainstorm and see what else they can come up with, but Lucas isn’t budging. He plaintively states that Jack has wasted enough time stressing over him in the last three years.

Jack: … I’m not giving up. We’re going to fight this, Lucas. It’s not over yet.

Lucas: It’s not worth the energy.

Jack: Of course it is. Any student’s well-being is worth the effort --

Lucas, pointedly: But I’m not worth your career.

It’s the way he says it that really hits. Firmly, but softly, with this… ghost of a smile. Like he recognizes Jack’s persistence, appreciates it for what it is… but already knows it’s futile. And certainly not worth tanking his own well-being to combat.

Jack stares at him, lost for words. Wanting there to be an easy solution, a checkmate move he can make to prove this whole thing isn’t pointless.

Asher, pre-lap: He’s completely given up.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The techies are occupying the stage, in the midst of another brainstorm session. The whiteboard is out, but it’s completely blank. The mood in here has deflated as well, all of that anger in their imaginary grieving process having simmered down to inertia.

Their figurehead is gone, and so it seems is their spirit.

Dylan: It was just wrong. For him to look at us and just tell us… for him to just surrender. It’s like it wasn’t even Lucas.

Jade: He’s really not even trying? He’s just going to let it happen.

[ Asher nods. The entire mood deflates even further. Nate shakes his head in disgust. ]

Nate: And there’s nothing we can fucking do about it.

Riley, off-screen: Maybe not.

All of them perk up, looking towards the dressing room hall. Riley enters with Isadora, the two of them marching over to join the techie circle. Lucas may think the situation is fruitless, but then, he’s never been the optimist. If they follow his example, then they will fail. That’s guaranteed.

Isadora: Lucas has never been about fighting for himself. He’d do it for any one of us, but never for himself.

Riley: But that doesn’t mean we have to give up too. And we may not have any direct power in our hands, but there is one thing that not even the Bradfords can buy off of us.

Dave: Our vital organs?

Isadora: Close, Dave. Very close.

Riley: Our voice.

Nate scoffs, but they’re not finished. The way they see it, the only thing they can do in this situation is speak up, and loudly, that none of them are okay with it. This isn’t just about Lucas, after all -- if he goes down, then every one of them are at risk of being the next domino to fall. They’re aware the school has never been about camaraderie, but now more than ever is the time to band together as a united front.

So they’re going to protest it, boldly and publicly. Riley has already started brainstorming logistics, and Isadora has some thoughts on how they can get the media involved so it actually has some heft. But they’re going to need help, a lot of help… including Lucas’s most loyal crew.

Dylan is already on board, ready for a scrap and a riot or two. The rest seem eager as well, but Nate does make one solid point.

Nate: Okay, so say we do this. Great. That’s what… ten people standing outside Adams shouting about how unfair everything is? That’ll be real compelling. Especially since we’re his friends.

Asher: Unfortunately, Nate is right.

Nate: Thanks.

Asher: This is a good plan, but it needs numbers. And we definitely don’t have pull with the rest of the student body.

Jeff: We could maybe get some of the underclassmen techies in on it, but...

Riley: That’s great. You all focus on that, and Isadora will delegate the rest of the preparation tasks. [ a beat ] Leave the rest to me.

Vague, but promising. The room is suddenly buzzing with energy again -- the invigorating sense that all hope is not lost. The techies exchange determined glances, then look to Riley. All in, whatever happens next.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Charlie opens his locker, checking his phone and surprised to find a missed call and voicemail waiting. He lifts it to his ear to listen, shock taking over his features. It’s Principal Jackson of Haverford Prep, calling to explain that they’ve reviewed his application and are happy to offer him admission to their elite senior class.

In all of the insanity, Charlie had completely forgotten about the audition. He honestly didn’t think he would even get in. Now that the possibility has been laid down in front of him, he doesn’t know how to process it.

HALEY FISHER and CLARISSA CRUZ come to join him, immediately asking if everything is okay based on his expression. He covers, clearing his throat and claiming he’s just… thinking about his final performance. Trying to figure out what it should be.

They don’t question him, launching into brainstorming ideas. Charlie lets the moment pass, shutting his locker and following them down the hall.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Riley and Isadora confront Eric, pitching him their strategy for a student opposition to the school board trial. They’re methodical, meticulous, and clearly prepared. He can’t possibly say they haven’t thought things through, and any action is better than inaction.

So he’s on board. He agrees to be their faculty sponsor, allowing them to congregate on school grounds and do whatever processes they so please within a reasonable limit. But he emphasizes that this will really have to be on them -- he’ll be busy playing emotional support the day of the trial so he won’t be able to help them much.

Isadora: Don’t worry about it. We can handle it.

She says it confidently, exchanging a resolute look with Riley. They know exactly what they’re getting into, and they’re doing it no matter what.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Which is the energy Riley takes to the A class, rallying with them during class. Harper gives her full control of the front of the room and doesn’t fight for attention, more than happy to let this fight take precedence.

And damn, does Riley make a compelling case. She highlights all the reasons they should be willing to help drum up support, starting with a compassion-based approach before swerving into more tactful psychology. She reiterates what Maya basically said when they heard the news -- if this goes through, it will set a precedent that endangers all of them.

Sarah: And why should I care what happens to Lucas? All he’s done is cause trouble.

Asher: Maybe because you wouldn’t have had a successful production for the last three years if he weren’t here, Carlson. Not that anyone would’ve missed your forgettable background vocals.

Ooooh. Asher is not here to play around this week, and the class derives the limited amusement they can from it. Sarah doesn’t argue further, but Riley elects to actually acknowledge her point.

Riley: Lucas is the current target, yes, but the point is that it could’ve been -- and could be -- any one of us. If you can’t bring yourself to care about him, think about how it would feel if it were you next. Or your best friend. The person you cannot imagine Triple A without.

Heaviness settles over the room. Maya and Farkle exchange a look -- they know that fear all too well. Haley looks to Clarissa, the latter giving her a soft smile and taking her hand. Dylan squeezes Asher’s knee.

Riley: Best friend or not, we are all students at this school. For whatever reason, we were admitted, and we’ve earned our place here. And we cannot be bought. That’s something all of us should be able to get behind, details irrelevant.

There’s a long pause. Then YINDRA AMINO nods from her seat on top of one of the desks.

Yindra: Friar has never been my favorite person, but Riley is right. In this case, if it’s one of us, then it’s all of us. [ a beat ] I’m in.

Nigel: Ditto.

Slowly, the junior A class comes together. Maybe to save their own hides… or maybe because amidst the chaos, they’re some weird version of a family.

Riley, raising her hand symbolically: All in?

Dylan and Asher don’t hesitate. Zay’s hand goes up. Isadora’s. Maya, with a sharp smirk in Riley’s direction. Even Farkle. The only one who doesn’t seem one hundred percent sold is Charlie, his trained aversion to avoid trouble strong as ever. But his hand goes up all the same.

Riley looks at all of them, shining with pride and a little emotional. This, she can work with. This battle is far from over -- it’s only just beginning.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Yesterday - Anthology 2 Version” as performed by Paul McCartney || Performed by Lucas James Friar

Meanwhile, Lucas is gearing up to give his last performance at AAA (ironically, also one of his first). He’s casually seated on the edge of the stage with his guitar, actually taking the final assignment seriously. Might as well, if it’s the last one he ever has.

The Anthology 2 version specifically captures the unpolished, offhand quality of the performance, Lucas going through the motions of figuring out what key he’s going to be playing in and explaining it to Shawn and Eric. Then Harper cues him whenever he’s ready, and he launches into the song.

It’s unrehearsed, and full of mistakes -- including the bit where Lucas mixes up the wrong lyrics and kind of laughs at himself -- but there’s something really charming about it too. For the first time, Lucas seems weirdly at peace as he performs, knowing that none of it matters anymore. He can just sing, and it doesn’t mean anything more than that.

The faculty are not so at ease with the circumstances. Harper and Eric are both respectfully listening, doing well at keeping their own emotion in check. Shawn is not so skilled, doing his best to stem whatever tears might possibly be coming by clearing his throat and half-hiding behind his hand.

Jack is a couple rows behind them, watching the performance with a stony expression. Hating that it’s come to this, that he can’t even enjoy the rendition from the student he never thought he’d see willingly perform. Hating that he’s decided this is the final run without consulting him.

Lucas wraps up the performance, silence settling over the auditorium for a long moment. Harper manages a smile, nodding.

Harper: Thank you, Lucas.

Lucas returns the nod.

INT. MINKUS HOME - HOME OFFICE - NIGHT

Farkle pokes his head into STUART MINKUS’s office, asking if he has a moment. Although the past would suggest otherwise, Stuart assures him he always has time to spare for him.

After bringing up the subject of the Bradford case, which Stuart has naturally read up on, Farkle questions if they would be able to donate to Riley’s and the A class protest efforts. Not a chunk of change, just enough to pay for the supplies and such that they’ll need to make their materials. He doesn’t want Riley to have to pay out of pocket, and Stuart is always saying they should contribute to worthy causes.

Hard to argue with that. Stuart agrees, happily stating that Farkle can charge it to the family card. Still, he has to wonder…

Stuart: Isn’t this Friar boy the one who used to chase you around the auditorium and terrorize you every day?

Farkle: Yes, well, therapy has illuminated my own faux pas in that situation. And the past is the past, so.

So it is. Farkle thanks his father again, starting to head out when he hesitates. He turns to ask one more question, asking Stuart if he would’ve done the same thing. Like, if Farkle were Missy, wanting so badly to get in this elite school and they could pay through the nose to make it happen, would he go so far as to push another student out to do it?

Stuart seriously contemplates the question, intending to give Farkle a worthy answer. He admits that while it would be tempting, as one of the greatest joys as a parent is giving your children everything they could possibly want… he likes to think no, he wouldn’t. He’d try his best, but he wouldn’t want to give Farkle an advantage at the expense of someone else.

Fair enough. Farkle seems satisfied with that, nodding and offering a smile and good night as he heads back into the hall.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Lucas joins GRACE FRIAR on the couch, the two of them enjoying a humble snack before bed. Lucas apologizes for all of the chaos this whole story has caused, especially if any of it has blown back on her. She brushes it off, but admits that it’s for the best that his father is out of town right now. Hopefully it will all blow over by the time he returns.

Ah, yes, his father… slowly, some of Lucas’s resigned demeanor begins to crack. Although he tries to come off aloof, he asks what’s going to happen if he does end up removed from AAA. Is he going to have to drop out? Or worse, is he going to go back to Quincy?

Grace looks at him, mustering a weak smile and patting his knee.

Grace: We’ll figure out a plan. It’ll be fine.

But it’s clear from how timid her voice is and the expression on her face that she has no plan. They have no alternatives, and saying it’ll be fine doesn’t erase the fear from her features.

Lucas mirrors the half-hearted smile, nodding in agreement. It only crumbles when he looks away, staring at the floor and clenching his jaw to keep his expression neutral.

For all his perceived quietude, he might be pretty scared too.

Charlie, pre-lap: I just wish there was more I could do.

INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT

Charlie is seated at the kitchen table, ELEANOR GARDNER listening as he tells her all about what’s going on with their school right now. Riley’s plan is about the only active opposition they’ve got, but he’s still not sure if he should go through with it or not. He wants to, because he really wants to help take a stand… but he’s nervous, too. If things go south, it definitely won’t look good on his records.

Although Eleanor is sympathetic to Lucas’s plight, she claims Charlie is right to be cautious. It’s his future on the line as well, and he shouldn’t be giving that up just because his classmate already fumbled theirs. In fact, since Lucas sort of got himself into this situation, she thinks it might be wise for Charlie to mind his own business and let it be.

He was on the same page with her there for most of it… but putting the blame on Lucas bumps him. He questions what she’s talking about, and she points out that if you do the crime, then you do the time. Lucas has far from a clean record, and if this is the cosmic punishment the Lord has laid down for him then far be it for them to try and fight it.

Charlie: Isn’t it our job to help people who have fallen though? I thought the whole point of faith was to uplift, and extend forgiveness --

Eleanor: It is. Honey, it is, I’m not saying otherwise. But mistakes have consequences, and punishment must be served.

Charlie: So you’re saying I should do nothing. Even though I clearly have something that I could do, even as small as showing up.

Eleanor: I think you should do whatever you feel in your heart is right. Just remember… there are some people in this world who cannot be saved. You’ll have to decide whether this classmate of yours is worth it or not.

Suddenly we’re putting worth on a teenager again. Charlie frowns, not sure what to make of the conversation.

Then Eleanor takes it a step further, shifting her attention to him. She makes a face and affectionately adjusts his hair, clicking her tongue.

Eleanor: This is getting quite long, isn’t it? We should make you an appointment to get it cut. [ innocently ] Don’t want to give people the wrong impression, hm?

Wrong impression of what? The comment is meant to be protective and loving, but it rubs Charlie the wrong way. He continues to frown as his mother walks away and heads for bed, slowly shifting into a scowl.

He pushes from his seat, heading towards the stairs.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Charlie is already dialing his phone before he even shuts the door, pacing impatiently while he waits for a response. When they pick up, his gaze is intent.

Charlie: Riley? What’s the plan? [ resolute ] Tell me what I can do to help.

As the rocking guitar rolls in…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Predict A Riot” as performed by Kaiser Chiefs || Performed by AAA Juniors

School is no longer for education but for strategizing, the classroom having been transformed into a headquarters for Riley’s protest mission. They’re working under a tight timeline with the school set to be their battleground in just a couple days, so everyone is hard at work.

Throughout the montage, A class students jog up and edit items on the massive whiteboard. Cross off action items, add new ones, adjust the countdown they have in the top right. The vocals float over the scenery, not a performance but more so a battle cry.

Asher and Dylan are in charge of poster design, leading groups of students in creating them with expert efficiency. They hold up a few here and there for Riley to approve, some humorous while others hit the nail right on the head.

Jade is leading a crop of workers in making custom tee shirts for the event, Clarissa keeping track of all the new “orders” they get for a shirt on a spreadsheet. NICK YOGI floats around with his A/V club camera, capturing the whole process for historical posterity.

Isadora makes her grand move, getting media pull by using the De La Cruz card. She negotiates on the phone with them one-by-one, claiming she’ll give them exclusive details on how the mother-daughter dynamic is developing… if they pay her one back and cover this story as well.

After another successful call, she jots it down in her notebook before shifting her focus. She pulls up her text chain with Valerie, letting her know what’s going on and keeping her updated on all the details. It’s clear that she let her know about it yesterday and Valerie responded telling her to keep her posted, but she’s yet to respond since then.

Riley is drawing up agendas and maps for the day, from where they’ll start to where they’ll end. Farkle and Charlie are brainstorming with her, offering suggestions or walking through the plot step-by-step. Maya and Zay are keeping a working copy of the “performance” schedule, including speeches, chants, and renditions planned throughout the afternoon.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Sarah and DARBY WINTERS run through the halls, putting their notorious gossip skills to good use and spreading the word. More and more students from all grades make their way towards the black box, looking to contribute in whatever way they can.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Riley is in the midst of a discussion about where the march should start when her phone rings, distracting her. She claims she has to take it and tells her crew she’ll be right back, darting into the hall.

Farkle: I’m just saying, I don’t see how having everyone blockade the streets around Triple A with their vehicles is such an unfeasible idea. I could contribute the Minkus helicopter if we’re really short on bulk.

Zay: Please tell me you realize how ridiculous you sound. If not, I’m not sure I have the heart to burst your bubble.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Riley picks up the phone, TOPANGA LAWRENCE on the other end of the line. Riley warns her that this isn’t really a good time, as there’s a lot going on at the moment.

Topanga asks when isn’t there, but she cheerfully assures her she’ll be quick. She just wanted to check in about whether Riley had given any more thought to the upstate move. If they do want to consider the art schools up there, after all, they really need to get a move on…

Riley holds her breath, confronted with the decision unexpectedly. But glancing over her shoulder towards the black box, where her entire class is so hard at work with her leading the charge… suddenly the answer becomes crystal clear.

Riley: I can’t.

Topanga: What’s that, dear? You have to speak up, you know I’m always telling you that.

Riley, firmly: I want to stay in Manhattan, mom. I want to stay at Triple A.

Silence. Riley fidgets under the cold reception, but she doesn’t back down. She opens her mouth to speak again but Topanga beats her to it.

Topanga: Are you sure?

Riley: Yes. I really appreciate it, the offer, and everything you think you’re doing for me. Really, I do. But this is where I need to be right now. It’s where I want to be. I can’t leave everything I have here. [ a beat ] Especially not now.

More silence. It feels like it might go on forever… when Topanga states it’s fine. She doesn’t sound pleased, but she will respect Riley’s choice as she said she would. She just hopes this doesn’t mean they’ll never see one another again.

Riley: Of course not --

Topanga, passive-aggressively: I just hope you’re making the right choice.

Once upon a time, that tactic may have worked on Riley. But she’s learned a lot since then. She’s learned to stand up for herself, to raise her own voice -- when she does, that’s when she’s really worth knowing.

Riley: I am. Trust me.

Well, nothing left to say, then. Topanga says she’ll call later, but Riley knows that might be a while so she can lick her wounds. They say goodbye and Riley leans against the wall, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

She looks back towards the classroom, alive with action and purpose. A movement she created.

Then she jumps back into the fray, ready to really make a difference.

EXT. AAA - DAY

A fancy town car pulls up outside Adams. A glossy pair of shoes step out from the backseat, and MISSY BRADFORD emerges as the driver helps her out of the car. She exchanges a proud smile with her father CARSON BRADFORD, the two of them making their way up the steps towards the entrance. Already, board members in suits are milling about the building.

Trial day has arrived, and with it the future of AAA.

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Jack is finishing setting up the lecture hall for the proceedings, directing faculty to finish the arrangements. It’s decorated quite similarly to a courtroom, a long string of tables at one end of the room set up for the board members. Opposite that, a table is set up for the Bradfords and their legal team, and a few feet away are seats for Jack and Lucas at their own table.

Up in front of the projector screen in the corner, a podium stands, typically reserved for the lecturers who use the space. Today, it’s a witness stand.

Evelyn Rand greets Jack as she enters, one of the first board members to arrive. She commends him on being willing to use their space, and for organizing such an efficient set up. That being said, she does hope the proceedings won’t create too much of a disturbance for the students.

Oh, don’t you worry about the students, Miss Rand…

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

The students are creating a disturbance all their own.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Come Together” as performed by The Beatles || Performed by AAA Juniors (feat. AAA Students)

Riley kicks off the eerie call-to-arms, walking towards us down the street from the march starting point. Soon enough Dylan and Asher fall into line behind her on either side, harmonizing with her. On the first “come together,” Isadora and Zay arrive, and they sing the chorus right to the camera.

So the march continues, picking up more and more students along the way until there’s a full-fledged rally making their way towards the school. Thanks to Isadora’s media influence, reporters and other passersby join in on the crowd as well. By the time they arrive at Adams, a crowd of at least 200 people has gathered to protest.

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Missy is just in the midst of explaining to the school board that her lawyer should be here any minute -- just as ANNE MARIE WINTHROP walks through the door. She apologizes for the delay, as there were lots of unexpected traffic jams on the way over.

Jack: Oh, hell no --

Before Jack can make a move either way on this brand new reveal -- a dirty move on the Bradfords part, hiring his ex-girlfriend -- Eric swoops in and grabs his arm. His eyes are wide.

Eric: You’ve got to see this.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Jack and Eric make their way to the doors, stunned by the scene that has formed on the steps of the school. The other school board members are getting a good look too, the stunt definitely having gotten their attention.

EXT. AAA - DAY

Outside, as the Beatles tune shifts into the guitar solo, Riley takes to the section of the steps they’ve designated the “stage” and takes the megaphone from Maya. She begins her opening speech to her fellow students about why they’re there today -- because they’re the true heart of AAA, and they refuse to be bought.

Riley: Who are we?

AAA Students: The people!

Riley: Do we matter?

AAA Students: Yes!

Dave: Hell yeah!

Riley: And what matters more -- the people, or a profit?

AAA Students: The people!

Riley: No matter who you are?

AAA Students: Yeah!

Riley: No matter what?

AAA Students: No matter what!

Damn right! More media is arriving to cover the surprise protest, surprising the likes of Jefferson Graham as he arrives for the trial. He seems disdainful as he pushes his way through students and avoids reporters, heading for the stairs.

Lucas also arrives in the midst of the spectacle, dressed as best as he can manage in dark jeans and a slightly wrinkled button down. He even managed to comb his hair after an entire year of dissing the notion. He’s stunned by the crowd and the rally and the sheer presence of such a fuss, absolutely baffled.

Lucas, under his breath: What the fuck --

As if on cue, reporters zero on him. There he is! The infamous Lucas James Friar! They start to swarm him, asking a million questions that he has no idea how to handle or answer.

Luckily, Eric comes to his rescue. He appears in the crowd, reaching out and taking his arm.

Eric: Hey, I got you. Come on, come on!

Lucas follows Eric, letting him push their way through the assembly and towards the school. When they get to the entrance and he can finally see the view from above it all, Lucas scans the chaotic scene and finds Riley standing at the core of it all.

They lock eyes, only for a moment, across the steps. Then Riley takes a deep breath, turning back to the people and leading their war cry.

Riley: People over profit! We won’t be bought!

AAA Students: People over profit! People over profit!

The crowd is downright uproarious. Eric guides the dumbstruck Lucas through the doors and into the school, leaving the movement to Riley.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

The sound of the protest lowers to a quiet din as they step into the school, but it’s impossible to ignore. Lucas and Eric meet with Jack, discussing what the hell is going on outside. Sure, it’s a lot, but it definitely can’t hurt their case.

Jack: Trust me, I don’t think the Bradfords are planning to play nice.

Eric claims it doesn’t matter -- they have their case, and they know they’re on the right side of AAA history. Now, it’s just time to convince everyone else.

Jack gives Lucas a bracing pat on the shoulder, asking if he’s ready. He nods, and the three of them make their way to the lecture hall.

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

From inside the hall, all of the uproar from just outside the school is silent. Attention is rapt as Evelyn thanks everyone for taking the time to be in attendance, explaining the process for how the proceedings will operate. They will be going mainly off of character witnesses and discussing the logistics of the enrollment process at Adams, all to determine whether junior student Lucas James Friar can keep his coveted spot -- or if someone, such as Missy Bradford, has the right to demand it for herself.

There are about nine school board members present, including Rand and Graham. It’s near impossible for there to be a tie or hung jury in this situation, so this should wrap by the end of the day. One key board member who gets focus is HARRISON YANCY, another older gentleman who is eyeing Lucas with cautious distaste.

Still, they only need to convince five. If five people can see the grander implications of this situation, then Lucas won’t be going anywhere.

Evelyn requests that each of the cases make their main argument as opening statements. Anne Marie rises first, laying down the perspective of the Bradford prosecution. As she starts to speak, highlighting the favoritism and unprofessionalism that permeates Jack Hunter’s enrollment procedures and running of AAA, Lucas frowns and leans over to whisper to Jack.

Lucas: Isn’t that your --

Yes, Lucas. Yes, it is. Jack merely shakes his head at him. Not now. Anne Marie maintains her professionalism, delivering the opposition with cool authority and seemingly no personal bias attached. Lucas does not deserve his spot at Adams, and there are plenty of well-intentioned and talented individuals -- such as Miss Bradford -- who deserve their chance at his spot. Especially since they can afford to pay for it.

Jack rises to give their case, explaining that this is an issue that should have never escalated to this sort of ordeal. They have their enrollment procedures, which have never been an issue for the over 50 years that AAA has existed. Lucas is not a mastermind but a strawman, a scapegoat the Bradfords are using to get their way by digging into the personal life of an 18-year-old student who has put his time and effort into the community here -- just not in such obviously visible ways as some of his peers. Missy glances at Lucas from her spot at the table, eyeing him with mild interest.

Then Jack emphasizes the precedent this decision will set, the much larger implications and overarching impact removing Lucas to suit the needs of a demanding pocketbook might have.

Certainly much to think about on both sides. It’s time to hear from the masses.

The sequence passes in a montage, different characters taking the podium as Anne Marie and Jack call them to speak on Lucas’s time at Adams. One is HARLEY KEINER, called in by the Bradfords to discuss the time Lucas spent living in the technician’s booth -- a misuse of school property. Harley admits that’s true, and he took the steps necessary to stop it, as did Jack.

But then when Jack gets the chance to question him, Harley points out that Lucas never purposefully misused or damaged any equipment. He was always quite respectful of the more serious items in their shared spaces, and while yes, a desk or house seat here and there might have suffered vandalism, Lucas isn’t the only student who has messed with school property.

When CORY MATTHEWS is called to speak on Lucas’s academics, he admits to the Bradford’s points that Lucas does have an iffy attendance record. However, his grades are still sharp, some of the best in the junior class. Better than half of the performing students, as it were. This seems to be a good point for the defense… until Anne Marie points out that if his grades are so good, then he’d presumably be fine at any school -- least of all a school for the arts when he doesn’t care about the arts.

Additionally, Anne Marie manages to twist Cory’s words. She gets him confused or contradicting himself, effectively making his somewhat helpful testimony rather useless by the end. Jack shakes his head, frustrated.

However, it’s not a complete loss. They manage to come back when Yindra takes the stand, acting as the character witness for the Junior A Class. While Anne Marie expects it to be a pretty easy win -- they definitely have the impression that the performers are not fond of Lucas -- Yindra throws a curveball by actually carrying the opinion that Lucas should stay.

Yindra: Don’t get me wrong, Friar is obnoxious. And yeah, most of us spent the first two years of our time here wondering what he was even doing here. But he’s great at what he does, and he’s a major part of the reason anything gets done around here. When he shows up, he shows up, and our productions are good enough evidence of that. I don’t know if he got his place here in the same way the rest of us did, but he’s certainly earned it since that time.

That’s a good point. The board takes careful note, and as they’re transitioning for their next witness Jack tells Lucas that things are looking good. There have been some unexpected turns, but they’re not out of the running by a long shot.

That is, until Anne Marie calls her next testimony. WYATT LIVINGSTON enters from the hall, back after a year to finally get his revenge on Lucas James Friar. We don’t even have to see the testimony to know it’s not going to be good.

Lucas gives Jack a wide-eyed look as Wyatt takes to the podium. What are they going to do about that? Anne Marie asks if Wyatt will be honest in his account, and give an accurate portrayal of Lucas during their time at AAA together. When he agrees, she tees him up, wondering if he has anecdotes he could share with the school board about Mister Friar.

Wyatt looks right at Lucas, a smug smile ghosting over his lips.

Wyatt: Plenty.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Following a couple more witnesses, the trial breaks for lunch. Lucas is pacing outside the lecture hall, almost bumping into Missy as she emerges to depart for a quick lunch.

The two of them size each other up for the first time, Lucas obviously not taking kindly to the entitled bitch gunning to take his spot. Missy, on the other hand, doesn’t seem at all disappointed to meet him. In fact, from the way she’s looking him over as she thinly apologizes for all the fuss this has caused, saying she has interest in him might just be the tip of the iceberg.

Missy: I’ll admit, I don’t think photos do you justice. And I didn’t expect things to get so very complicated. All the things everyone is saying about you, all the conflicting accounts… fascinating. Isn’t it? Things might have gone differently, had I known our chosen subject was so… provocative.

Lucas is not impressed. He remains stone-faced as Missy’s father beckons her, off for their relaxing, carefree meal.

Jack and Eric emerge from the lecture hall, joining Lucas in the midst of their conversation. They agree that in opposition to the surprise of Wyatt, they’re going to need an equally compelling testimony to throw them off. Eric claims he’s already on it, brewing with an idea.

Wyatt exits from the lecture hall, sauntering his way through the halls of the school that so easily dropped him like a king. He nods to Lucas with a smirk, cocky with long-awaited victory.

Wyatt: See you out there when they dump you on your ass too, Friar.

Lucas scowls, nearly lunging on instinct. But Jack pulls him back, restraining him and firmly stating that’s exactly what Wyatt wants him to do. The last thing they need is to give the opposition any more fodder to play with in their court.

EXT. AAA - DAY

Meanwhile, the student protests are well on their way. People have guitars, are waving their home-made signs proudly, listening to the speeches and performances while lounging around on the steps and on the lawn of the school. It’s somewhere between a social march and like… Woodstock. It’s a snapshot of the 60s youth movements, only 60 years later.

Nearby, Isadora is fielding questions from reporters. She’s doing an excellent job considering her usual aversion to the spotlight -- Valerie would be proud!

A couple of seniors are at the megaphone at the moment, giving Riley a chance to regroup. But she’s far from relaxed, unable to take her eyes off the school as she sips water. Dylan and Asher wander over to join her, commending her for staying hydrated and wondering how she thinks everything is going.

Outside? Fine. Inside… she has no idea, and that’s clearly what they all actually care about. It’s a minimal relief when Yindra steps out from the atrium, jogging down the steps to come and join them after her testimony. Riley asks how it’s going in there, and she informs them that they brought Wyatt back as a character witness.

Riley, Asher, and Dylan: Wyatt?

Riley: How is that an unbiased opinion?

Asher: Oh, so he really wants to get punched again?

Dylan, softly: [ taking Asher’s shoulders and rubbing them soothingly ] Easy there, bird bones.

Yindra: Believe me, it’s ridiculous and we all know it. But the school board doesn’t, although hopefully some of them are aware of Wyatt’s own history at Triple A.

Otherwise, it’s hard to say how the tides are shifting. But the stuff they’re doing out here is good regardless. She heard some of the board discussing it while she was on her way out. They’re making a point, if nothing else.

Across the lawn, some of the performers are discussing the importance of the protest despite their apparent nonchalance as they recline in the shade. Maya is laying with her head in Farkle’s lap, boldly declaring that although Lucas is the worst ninety percent of the time, she might actually miss him if they decide to oust him unfairly.

Before Farkle can respond, Eric comes over to join them. He asks if he can borrow Farkle for a moment, Maya offhandedly complaining that he’ll be taking her pillow, but letting him go. He gets to his feet, walking slowly back towards the steps as Eric engages him in conversation.

He gets right to the point, pitching that Farkle consider being their last character witness for the trial. It’s a big favor to ask, and Farkle seems confused by the request. Partially because it’s a lot of responsibility to take on, but also…

Farkle: How could that possibly be a good idea? Lucas and I have hated each other since we met.

Eric: I know. They know that too, so you getting up there at the podium and stating that he deserves to stay?

Could be a checkmate. A risky gambit, that’s for sure, but maybe exactly the counterpoint they need. If Farkle, who was tormented by Lucas in their bewildering hate war of three years, can testify that he still deserves his place here…

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Still, it’s a lot to ask. Eric is aware of that, especially if Farkle doesn’t really believe it. He would try to sell him on the other aspects to the case he obviously agrees with, like the precedent thing, but more so Eric understands that it might be too much to ask. He’s not going to try and bribe him into it.

Eric: I don’t want you to feel pressured to do so. I know how complicated your dynamic is, and you certainly don’t owe him anything. I wouldn’t want you to get up there and say something you don’t mean.

Farkle: Do you think it’ll make a difference? Like, for real?

Eric, honest: I don’t know. But it’s basically the only idea I’ve got left. [ patting his shoulder ] Do whatever you’re comfortable with. I just knew that if I didn’t ask, I’d regret it. I appreciate you considering it, either way.

Eric backs off, leaving him to ruminate on it. Farkle stands frozen in the hall, slowly succumbing to contemplation as the world around him begins to dim and fade away.

In some ways, it feels like his entire rebirth act has been leading to something like this. Does he want to play it safe, staying comfortably in the background of the cause -- or does he put himself right in the line of fire? Does he pay forward an act of kindness to someone who has given him nothing but grief -- or does he take the opportunity to get final cosmic payback? Or, in an effort to truly look out for himself as he’s always known, does he do absolutely nothing?

The time has come to decide if he’s truly going to repent, or if he’s going to run yet again.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Monster” as performed by Frozen Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus

If there’s a song where lyrics hit pointedly this episode, this would be it. Farkle grapples with all of the uncertainty and confliction he’s felt about his own sense of self since the end of last season -- is he doomed to be a monster, acting selfishly and reactively as everyone casted him? And if he is nothing but a monster… does he kill it?

All this pain, all this fear began because of me Is the thing they see, the thing I have to be?

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

As the march bit starts, we throw between the protests going on outside with their chants and Jack reconvening with key board members. The “no harm comes to him” belongs to Jack, obviously speaking on behalf of Lucas.

Farkle is the focus again on the second verse, dramatically making his way through the halls as he tears himself up over the two parts of his identity.

Was I a monster from the start? How did I end up with this frozen heart? Bringing destruction to the stage Caught in a war that I never meant to wage

He bursts through the doors to the dressing room hall --

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And ends up on the stage, nothing but a spotlight illuminating him as he settles into the softer bridge. When he speaks to his father, Stuart appears on his right and watches him wisely. There for Farkle to seek wisdom from… but not able to give him the answer.

Father, you know what's best for me If I die, will they be free?

Then he turns to his left, where JENNIFER MINKUS is watching him with love and pride. He seeks counsel from her too, wondering whether his silence will be just as destructive as his active mistakes of the past.

Mother, what if after I'm gone The cold gets colder and the storm rages on?

Suddenly, the truth seems to hit him.

No! I’ve got to stay alive, to fix what I’ve done --

Farkle whips around and marches back through the wings, determination taking over his features. He travels through the darkness…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

And pushes back out into the hallway for the final verse, reaching his decision. Maybe he’s a monster -- maybe he’s always destined to be broken, selfish, a little bit off and a little bit wrong. But when opportunities are presented to him to make a difference, he can choose to make a difference. He can choose to speak out, even when it’s complicated. Even when it’s not in his own self-interest.

As he sings the final resounding note, we cut between him stomping his way towards the lecture hall and belting in the spotlight center stage. It’s powerful in the same way his performance of “Santa Fe” was, only this time it’s not defeat provoking the emotion.

Farkle looks to the school board members standing outside the lecture hall, everyone reconvening for final testimonies. Then he pushes through the doors and marches inside, disappearing behind them.

Jack is rushing back to the lecture hall, nearly bumping into Anne Marie. They both apologize until they realize who they’ve bumped into, growing colder. Jack claims this is a low move, and a bit hypocritical considering how she’s always talking about professionalism. Anne Marie scoffs, rolling her eyes.

Anne Marie: It’s just a job, Jack. They presented a case that I happen to agree with, and paid me a fair amount of money for my services.

Jack: Oh, I’m sure they did.

Anne Marie: It’s not personal, Principal Hunter. [ shortly ] Unlike you’re so convinced everything is.

She pushes through the doors, leaving him behind. Jack forces himself to take a deep breath, cooling his temper and stepping in after her.

EXT. AAA - DAY

While the war rages on, Zay is distracted by a call on his phone. He waits for a voicemail, although he recognizes the number as the same one who gave him the information about his callback. More likely than not, this is whether or not he actually got the part.

He moves away from the crowd, taking refuge down by the bottom steps. Releasing a sigh, he holds his breath when the voicemail comes through and raises the phone to his ear to listen.

After a long moment, a huge grin spreads across his face. He almost falls over, reaching out for the banister by the stairs for support.

Zay: Holy shit. Holy shit!

Charlie notices his outburst, jogging down the steps and asking him what’s going on. He stammers out half an explanation that makes absolutely zero sense before Zay manages to find the words, telling him that he got the part. He got the role in the Off-Broadway production.

Charlie’s jaw drops. He takes Zay’s shoulders.

Charlie: Oh my God. [ happier ] Oh my God!

In the excitement, they embrace, and it’s not the end of the world. In that moment, it’s just a moment of pure joy, shared between two good friends. When they pull apart, Charlie has a million questions.

Charlie: Well, what’s the role? What’s the schedule like? When are performances going to be?

Zay: I -- [ breathless ] I don’t know! I still have to accept the role.

Charlie: … okay? Okay, well, do it! Call them right now!

Although he’s clearly thrilled, Zay claims he can’t just do that. When Charlie asks why not, Zay sort of shrugs and states that he just needs to think about it. You know, gotta consider all the factors before making a decision like this. Charlie stares at him like he’s crazy, wondering when the hell Zay Babineaux suddenly became hesitant.

Then realization washes over him. He did that. Zay was never an overthinker… until they got together. When Charlie became a priority, and dragged along all his baggage and conditions and trained hesitancy with him.

Zay isn’t paying attention to his change in demeanor, still smiling as he glances down at his phone. He’ll probably accept it, of course, but… it’s just an honor to have gotten an offer. Crazy, how quickly things can change like this. Isn’t it?

Charlie, blankly: … crazy.

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Farkle has taken to the podium, Lucas looking less than thrilled at his presence. How he could possibly help his case, he has no idea, and from how flatly Farkle is answering Anne Marie and Jack’s questions it doesn’t seem like he’s all that intent on selling Lucas’s good merits.

Anne Marie isn’t going easy on him either. To her, this sudden additional testimony is a fumble on the defense, and she’s going to milk Lucas and Farkle’s problematic dynamic for everything it’s worth. Although Farkle gives his point about how he was responsible for half of their tangles and certainly acted as a provocateur, Anne Marie still uses it to craft a more unfavorable impression of Lucas.

However, after a certain point, Farkle has had enough. That’s when the tables really start to turn, just when Anne Marie and the Bradfords think his presence is a home run for them.

Farkle: Miss Winthrop -- ladies and gentlemen of the school board -- I’m going to be fully honest. It’s a creed I picked up after my failed suicide attempt, which I know you’re aware of since you elected to feature it in one of your articles.

Lucas, under his breath: Oh, God.

Anne Marie: Certainly. By all means, Mister Minkus.

Farkle: Here’s the read. Lucas James Friar sucks. I think you’ve proven that well enough this afternoon, and I wasn’t even here. It’s not hard to prove -- he sucks. There’s a reason I spent three years calling him “Jackass.”

Anne Marie: Yes, I think we’ve made that quite clear. Thank you --

Farkle: But I suck, too.

Anne Marie: … I’m sorry?

The tension in the room shifts somewhat. Jack raises his eyebrows -- Lucas stares at Farkle, not sure what to expect.

Farkle: I suck just as much as he does. I mean, I’m a fucking monster. [ pausing ] Sorry, is cursing allowed? If not, you can strike that from the record.

Evelyn: Go on, Mister Minkus.

Farkle: Point is, I’m a menace. We all hated Lucas, but everyone hated me too. And my best friend, Maya Hart, she’s an absolute maniac. Cut-throat, calculating, could and would throw me off the catwalk if it would help her career. But damn, is she talented. So am I, in theory. And so is Lucas, just not in the same way. It pains me, I mean, truly pains me to say this, but we would not have pulled off half the things we did in the three years we’ve been here if it weren’t for him and the way he leads the student technicians.

Well. This is taking an unexpected turn. The school board sits up straighter in their seats, leaning forward with interest. Anne Marie glances at them, then back at Farkle, trying to anticipate where this is going and develop a counterpoint. The Bradfords seem just as unsettled as Lucas and Jack -- there’s really no way to determine where this will end up.

Farkle: So yes. Lucas sucks. It’s not hard to prove that. But so do I. So does Maya. So does most of the student body. The way I see it, I think you need to reevaluate what this whole trial is even trying to determine. What credentials are you measuring Lucas against? Because if it’s like… merit or being a good person, then that’s not unique to Lucas James Friar. If you’re deciding whether someone should be allowed to stay because they’re a good person, then the school should just shut down. No one here is perfect, and you could put any one of us in that seat and debate for hours whether we deserve the right to be here.

The board takes this in, murmuring amongst themselves. Evelyn eyes Farkle with keen interest, obviously intrigued by what he has to say.

Farkle: And if you remove that element, well… [ plainly ] Then I’m not sure you’ve got a case at all.  

Okay, now there’s a strong statement. Missy narrows her eyes, not all that fond of this Farkle Minkus kid. He remains impressively calm though, not at all smug as he harpoons half of their case against Lucas.

But Anne Marie is a skilled lawyer, and she’s not going to let this knock her off her game. She waves him off, turning to the board.

Anne Marie: Thought-provoking perspective. [ with a shrug ] But hardly relevant.

Jack: Are you kidding me?

Lucas jumps, surprised by Jack’s outburst. He rises to his feet, leveling his glare with Anne Marie’s.

Jack: This entire debate has been matters of opinion! You can’t just dismiss one important testimony because it doesn’t align with your case.

Anne Marie: Well, I think then perhaps we should at least consider the suspiciously late addition to the schedule Mister Minkus demonstrated. One has to wonder what sort of last minute desperate maneuver… in a school full of actors, a favor or a bribe --

Jack, scoffing: Bribe? The Bradford prosecution is going to lecture the board about bribery?

Well, that escalated quickly. Evelyn regains control of the room before anything more can be said, hurting either of their cases. She urges them to maintain their professionalism, but it’s clear people are heated on all sides. Lucas looks like he’s going to be sick.

Evelyn declares that they will take a ten minute recess, and then come back together for closing statements. She personally feels they won’t need much else after all the other discussion they’ve heard today.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack and Lucas have regrouped in his office, Jack pacing and lamenting the tactics that the Bradfords and Anne Marie have stooped to in this process. This isn’t a fair process, this is a circus, that much is certain.

Lucas isn’t contributing to the vent session. He’s not fired up like Jack, but he’s no longer mutedly resigned either -- the reality of the situation is finally starting to hit him, and that resignation is bubbling into panic.

Lucas: I’m leaving Triple A.

Jack: It’s not over yet.

Lucas is pacing now too, but it’s not strident like Jack’s. He’s fretful, hands shaking, like an animal trapped in a cage. He’s been cornered, and he can’t hold back the fear no matter how badly he tries.

Jack: Lucas, breathe --

Lucas, shaky: They’re going to send me back to Quincy. [ choking on it ] I can’t go back. I can’t --

Jack: Lucas -- hey. Hey!

Jack crosses the room to meet him, taking his shoulders and forcing him to stop. He gets him to look at him.

Jack, fiercely: Listen to me! I am not going to let anything happen to you. Do you understand? Anything!

Lucas stares at him, still trembling.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Eric is rushing through the halls, Charlie running in from the entrance. He tries to catch up to him, claiming he needs to talk to him. Eric states that things are a bit high pressure at the moment, and almost dismisses him, but Charlie pleads his case.

Charlie: Please, Mister Matthews! It’s important.

Eric hesitates, looking at him and contemplating. Then he nods, gesturing for him to walk with him. Charlie jogs to catch up.

EXT. AAA - DAY

Farkle has rejoined the performers, recounting his testimony and how the place basically exploded before he left. Isadora asks if he thinks that’s a good thing or bad, and he honestly has no clue. It’s all so arbitrary anyway, it’s just going to come down to how people decide to vote.

Maya admits that she’s surprised Farkle testified in favor of Lucas. Like, she does get it, but truthfully she’s not even sure she would’ve done the same. Farkle admits he wasn’t either at first, but he knows how much he’s changed in the course of a year. Maybe this time last year, he would’ve made a different choice… but that’s not who he is anymore. And he’d hate to be judged solely on the mistakes he’s made -- he doesn’t think Lucas deserves it either.

Zay nods in respect, giving him a solid low-five. Maya smiles and wraps her arms around Farkle’s, resting her chin against his shoulder in that way that’s starting to become an affectionate habit.

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Back in the proceedings, Anne Marie is wrapping up the closing statement for the Bradford case. It’s obvious that Lucas does not deserve his place at Adams, and someone like her client has a fair argument against the way Mister Hunter runs the school. And Missy Bradford can pay to attend it, so why should she be barred opportunities due to an arbitrary rule? If the counsel views the situation objectively, then there’s a clear sense of right and wrong in this scenario.

Well, no arguing with that last statement. The board finishes taking their notes, Evelyn turning the tables to Jack. He glances to Lucas, who is staring at the table and avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room.

Then he rises, walking around the table and thanking the board for the opportunity to make their case this afternoon. He starts by pointing out this whole situation is inane, considering he did make a decision in this regard that the Bradfords elected to ignore. He believes changing his stance on a rule for a few dollar signs would set a dangerous precedent, especially when it’s at the expense of another student -- regardless of the student. But hopefully, the board can identify that much for themselves.

Jack hesitates, contemplating for a moment. Speaking with confidence, he rounds out his statement.

Jack: Miss Winthrop is correct that there is a clear sense of right and wrong here. One that I feel strongly about, that I know will define my career regardless of the outcome this afternoon. So allow me to make that stance crystal clear. [ clasping his hands together ] Should you decide to remove Mister Friar from Adams Academy of the Arts for something as twisted as this, then I hope you’re prepared to find a new head administrator. Because I would resign and step down from my position, effective as soon as that decision is reached.

A ripple of shock runs through the room. Lucas lifts his head, horrified. The board is stunned by the stunt, not sure how to react -- although it seems as though Evelyn Rand might be holding back a chuckle. Anne Marie and the Bradfords are particularly incensed, identifying the emotional power play for what it is. Not logic, that’s for sure.

But Jack isn’t trying to act like it is. He maintains his professional demeanor.

Jack: That’s all. I’m sure you have plenty to consider moving forward.

Jack returns to his seat next to Lucas, not allowing his facade to crack even a bit. Lucas is still in shock, staring at him with dread. Unable to believe that he would go down on this sinking ship with him.

EXT. AAA - DAY

Isadora finds Riley in the crowd, claiming that the proceedings have wrapped and now they’re just awaiting final verdict. If Riley is going to address the press -- and Isadora clearly thinks she should -- now is the time.

She nods, returning to the spotlight section and taking the microphone from Nigel. Once she’s sure she’s gotten the attention of the media, Riley launches into her final speech of the protest. She reiterates all of the points that they and Jack have been making all afternoon, with that special spark only Riley Matthew can deliver.

Then she claims she wants to address the board, and the Bradfords, directly. She states that they can make whatever decision they choose, that’s obviously out of their control. But if they think they can remove one of their own and this will just go away, then they’re dead wrong.

Riley: This school is built on the power of our voices, and we will never stop using them. [ impassioned ] If you choose profit over the people, then mark my words, you will never stop hearing from the people.

It’s a compelling moment, and the passion with which Riley delivers it makes the threat damn believable. A modern day mockingjay…

Riley is done, but her classmates pick up the slack. The chant arises in the crowd again: People over profit! People over profit. People --

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

In contrast to the riot just outside, the auditorium is hauntingly quiet. All the energy that usually commands it day-by-day is being expended elsewhere, leaving it empty and hushed.

Which is precisely why Lucas is there. He’s seated on the floor in front of the center back section of the house where the techies usually congregate, arms wrapped around his knees. Absorbing the temporary peace and the strange belonging he’s always felt in the auditorium, regardless of how many highs and lows have occurred inside of it.

A door opens from behind him, and Isadora appears at his side a few seconds later. She doesn’t say anything, dropping down next to him and tilting her head back against the section panel.

After a moment, she reaches out and places her hand on his knee. She doesn’t offer anything more than that, but the message is loud and clear.

Asher: Mind if we join you?

Lucas and Isadora look up, Asher and Dylan walking hand-in-hand in their direction. Lucas nods and they settle down across from him, sharing in the silent support. Wanting to be with him in these last moments, regardless of where he goes from here.

Lucas, to Dylan: Heard you were a pretty good captain in my absence.

Dylan shrugs humbly. Asher smiles at him, but someone beats him to a confirmation.

Jade: He was.

Lucas looks to his left, and there they are. Jade, Nate, Jeff, and Dave, also having found their way to him. They join the sit-in without another word, completing the circle. All of them together in solidarity, a complete set for the first time in months.

They sit in the silence for a long time. Then Dave breaks it, releasing a sigh.

Dave: Fucking capitalism, man.

The declaration hangs in the air for a long moment. Then Lucas lets out a laugh -- exhausted, but acknowledging how ridiculous this whole thing is. Taking comfort in Dave’s unique brand of eccentricity, as he always has.

And when it starts, the laughter is contagious. Before long the entire techie crew is laughing, sharing a moment of levity in spite of how heavy the situation feels. Finding reprieve in one another, as they have for the last three years.

Isadora jostles Lucas’s knee, shaking her head as she chuckles. Asher leans into Dylan’s shoulder. Jade hugs Dave’s side affectionately, playfully nudging Nate’s foot away as he attempts to kick at Jeff and Dave across the circle.

Charlie, pre-lap: Say what you want about Triple A, but the best thing about it is the people. Even when they’re the worst.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Charlie is seated across from Eric, speaking with more certainty than he ever has in his office. This time it’s his choice to be there, talking through everything he’s been tossing around in his head for months. He’s in the midst of trying to provide full context for what he needs help with.

Charlie: I know that better than anybody, and that’s part of what made applying somewhere else so hard. Like, why would I leave Adams? Everything I care about is here. Everyone I love is here. [ a beat ] I mean, I know why. I applied because I was scared. At the time, I fucked up, and made choices that hurt someone I love. And I thought the only way to deal with that was to run from it -- because I’ve been doing that my entire life, for as long as I can remember. Running, rather than facing the truth.

Eric listens patiently, giving Charlie all the time he needs to process.

Charlie: The more I think about it, the more I think love in it of itself is inherently selfish. And that’s weird, because love is supposed to be the ultimate virtue, you know? But it’s so dangerous, when you let it get out of control. It’s… it’s looking at something or someone and saying I like that thing so much, I want it all to myself. I want it always, I want it to be mine. And that’s selfish. [ shakily ] And for a person who tries really damn hard to be good, and virtuous, it’s amazing how much of a contradiction I can be. Perfect and polished on the outside, but one crack from breaking to pieces on the inside. Acting like I care about Christian values, about helping others, when it took me way longer than anybody else to determine that even showing up for someone else could be the right choice if it put me in any sort of jeopardy. Being so consumed by this thing that’s supposed to be the most powerful good there is, consumed by love, but somehow twisting it into a selfish thing. Loving but with conditions attached, keeping it secret, holding that love so tightly in my grip that they can’t even remember how to move freely anymore. All because I’m selfish, and I’m a coward. I’m so scared of the truth -- of who I am, the selfishness and… and being gay --

The moment passes without consequence, but Eric doesn’t overlook the importance of the statement. It’s the first time Charlie has openly stated his sexuality, and the first time he’s shared it with someone by his own choice.

Charlie: -- that I’m constantly running, only now I realize I’ve been dragging everyone else along behind me while I do it. I’m running, and running, and they’re the ones getting the bruises and the scuffs and the dirt while I get to maintain my squeaky clean, inoffensive persona. [ a deep breath ] And I don’t want to be that way. I’m done being that way... but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next.

Eric thanks Charlie for sharing all of that with him, and delicately states that he has to admit he thinks he is being too hard on himself. Everything Charlie is experiencing is a pretty universal human sensation, at one point or another. It’s definitely good to recognize you have faults, but to flip the script and make yourself the inevitable villain at every turn won’t help anyone either.

Eric: You’re not a saint, Charlie. You’re human, and part of being human is being imperfect. Making mistakes, hurting others, making the same mistakes again.

Charlie wipes at his eyes, not even realizing he’s crying until the tears are on his cheeks.

Eric: Acknowledging those mistakes is the first step -- and it seems like you’ve mastered that. What matters most is what you do to repair those mistakes, and that just comes down to a whole other series of choices.

Active choices. Choosing to be good, to care about others and help whenever you can. Charlie absorbs this, accepting the tissue Eric hands him with an embarrassed laugh.

All of that aside… Eric curiously asks what Charlie thinks about the Haverford offer. He went out for the opportunity at first because he was scared -- a mistake, it seems, in his eyes. But all that matters is what he does next… so what is he thinking about that?

Charlie lists all the pros and cons he’s been weighing in the last couple months. The chance to start new, to prove himself capable, to try something new and grow in a different way -- versus the home and family he’s built at AAA. The bananas chaos he’s grown fond of, and the people he doesn’t want to leave. Especially that...

Charlie: I started this whole thing because I messed up with the person I love the most, and I wanted to escape the consequences. [ a beat ] But now… I’m still being selfish. Because I thought I was setting him free, letting him go, but somehow I’m still holding him back. It’s like… as long as I’m here, and we’re together, I’m never going to let go of that leash. I don’t want it to be that way. I don’t want to leave, but… I don’t want to let this keep going.

Eric processes this. It’s a tricky situation, that’s for sure, especially while Charlie is in such a harsh emotional place.

Then, a lightbulb seems to go off in Eric’s head. He’s hesitant to speak on it, but Charlie can sense the change in his expression.

Charlie: You have an idea. [ expectant ] What are you thinking?

Eric pauses, still hesitant. Having this conversation with another student seems like a lot to ask… but all Charlie wants is to accomplish something exactly like this. Despite being torn, Eric forces himself to speak up.

Eric: I’m just thinking… no solution will be perfect. I can tell you that with certainty. But if you’re willing to consider it… I think we might be able to solve more than one problem if we work together. Are you good with that?

Silence hangs over them as Charlie contemplates, running through all of the possibilities in his head as he’s so well-trained to do. Then, something in his expression hardens.

Active choices. Helping others, even when it’s inconvenient for yourself. Especially then.

Charlie, with a nod: Tell me what I can do.

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

The board has reassembled, Evelyn rising to address the room. It’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Missy and her father seem relaxed, prepared for victory -- Lucas and Jack are experts at restraint, expressions neutral and braced for the worst.

Evelyn gives a short speech about how odd and unique this whole experience has been in the long history of her career as a school board member. She’s honestly had an opinion of her own basically since this story first dropped, but as top member of the board she places a deep value in letting each of her fellow delegates get the chance to speak their mind. It’s a principle she highly regards, a precedent she intends to set in stone.

That being said, both cases raised important and interesting points. There’s a lot of subjects raised during discussion today that might warrant more conversation in the future, and because of that it’s no surprise to her that the vote was so closely split.

Lucas grits his teeth, clenching his fist on his knee. Jack gently reaches over and touches his wrist, getting him to unclench his grip.

Evelyn: So, let’s allow this to set a precedent as well. In a 5-4 vote… the school board has voted in favor of Adams and Principal Jackson Hunter.

A wave of surprise crashes through the room. Lucas and Jack are both surprised, watching Evelyn with wide eyes.

Evelyn: A decision was made, and to allow Miss Bradford into the school by the means presented today would set an example the school board ultimately does not wish to support. Lucas James Friar, enjoy your senior year at Adams Academy for the Arts. [ nonchalantly ] This meeting is adjourned.

Anne Marie is disgusted, obviously miffed that emotion was the winning maneuver. Missy looks about ready to throw a hissy fit, and Carson is already placating her.

Lucas and Jack both get to their feet, and for a moment, it seems as though they might do something insane like hug. But Jack settles for a bracing shoulder pat instead, the smile on his face wholly genuine.

Jack: Looking forward to one more year.

Lucas scoffs out a laugh, still stuck in disbelief. He blankly states that he has to go tell the others -- he’s got to tell Dora and Asher and Dylan. Jack nods him onward and lets him go, Lucas disappearing through the doors.

EXT. AAA - DAY

The crowd has grown restless, awaiting any sort of news. Zay has his arm around Riley, comforting her as her nerves start to overcome her resolve.

Dave pushes through the doors, all attention to turning to him. He pauses for a long second, and then pumps his fist in victory when he claims they won. Lucas isn’t going anywhere -- and the people prevailed!

It’s instant revelry. The assembled crowd erupts into cheers, transitioning right into celebration. Zay and Riley hug, the former picking her up and spinning her. The A class performers embrace and jump around. Maya lets out a theatrical war cry.

Farkle and Isadora embrace, only realizing that’s weird until they’re a few seconds into it. Farkle pulls back and clears his throat, Isadora stating she should text her mom the good news. He nods, agreeing that she should do that. She steps away, shifting her focus to her phone.

The last response she got from Valerie was a couple days ago, encouraging her to fight the good fight and to let her know everything that happens. Isadora has given her updates since then, but she sends this update with an excited flourish.

INT. AAA - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Evelyn approaches, congratulating Jack on a fight well fought. She had little doubt he would pull through, of course, and she’s always greatly admired his strong belief system... it’s a wonder who that deciding vote came down to…

Still, even in the midst of the celebration, Evelyn has to deliver a caution. She drops her voice down to a murmur, warning Jack that the stunt he pulled today isn’t going to just evaporate. The other school board members who voted against him are not pleased, and there will be consequences for the way he handled it.

Pointedly, Jefferson Graham and Harrison Yancy send a pointed glare in his direction as they discuss amongst themselves. Jack swallows, disappointed but not surprised.

Evelyn: Questions have risen as to how Adams is run, Jackson. [ empathetically ] You need to prepare for a whole lot of change.

Well, that’s pleasant and not ominous at all. Off of Jack’s bittersweet expression…

EXT. AAA - DAY

For how all-consuming the Bradford debacle was the day before, it’s impressive how quickly life returns to a state of equilibrium. The formerly crowded and riotous scene of student protest is calm and clean come Friday morning, the school year scheduled to wrap up as normal in the last couple of days next week. As if nothing happened, like life has proceeded as normal this entire time.

But it did happen. History was made at AAA, and no one is likely to forget it any time soon. As for what happens next…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Farkle is at his locker, getting the chance to clean it out this year. He takes delicate care to put his photos of his friends safely away in the front pocket of his backpack. As Nigel and Yogi pass him in the hall, they offer him friendly pats on the back and the promise to catch him in class. Still a couple performances and classes left to round out the year.

And boy, what a year it has been. Farkle takes in the halls around him, remembering how for a while there, there was a real chance he was never going to come back into these halls. Grateful, it seems, that he’s still there.

Isadora approaches, leaning against the locker next to him. She states how weird it is that so much can happen one day, and then school can just proceed as normal the next.

Farkle: Well, only a couple more days of that. For now.

Isadora: It’s just strange. How quickly things change. Instantaneous, really.

No doubt about that. After a moment, Isadora shifts topics and thanks Farkle for his testimony. She figures it probably wasn’t easy for him to come to that decision, given their history. Obviously, there’s no way to know if it really made a difference… but it was something. He spoke up, in a moment where it might’ve really mattered. Farkle shrugs, thoughtful.

Farkle: You know, this time last year, everything fell apart because I made a selfish move. I was thinking of me, just me, and I sure paid the consequences for that. [ a beat ] A lot has changed since then, but it’s easy to say things have changed rather than prove it. A theory needs evidence to be proven, after all.

Isadora: Naturally.

Farkle: Can’t know for sure without repeated trials, but… I figure choosing to make the choice that wasn’t directly beneficial to me is probably a good sample of evidence. My hypothesis is that things held together because we held together. [ certain ] And I’ll take that conclusion over last year’s any day.

Isadora examines him, a smile that might be described as fond creeping onto her face. Farkle closes his locker, raising his eyebrows at her before leading the way down the hall.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Delicate” as performed by Damien Rice || Performed by Asher Garcia (feat. Dylan Orlando)

Yes, classes are still in session for a few more days, and there are still some lingering final performances to wrap up. Asher performs the ballad as his final project, bending the rules just slightly so that Dylan can be up there with him to back him up. No one tries to argue him on it -- Dylan and Asher are undeniably better together, after all.

Dylan sits behind him on a stool, playing the acoustic guitar. Asher’s vocals are soft, imbued with a sense of peace it feels like we haven’t felt all season. As the other orchestration comes into play, Haley, Clarissa, and Nigel are backing him on the strings instruments for the full effect.

The performance also doubles as the score for the next scene, setting the mood aptly...

INT. AAA - TEACHER’S LOUNGE - DAY

Riley is fighting with the protest signs, attempting to put them in the large closet in the teacher’s lounge for safe-keeping. But they’re hard to handle all on her own, and there’s a lot of them, and only so much closet space. The unglamorous part of an impassioned protest -- the clean-up.

Lucas pokes his head into the doorway, grateful to have found her. He asks what she’s doing and she jumps, just looking at him for a moment. Soaking up the fact that he’s still there -- that he gets to still be there, for at least a while longer. Then she clears her throat, explaining her battle with the posters and signs.

Riley: Eric said we should keep them, for posterity and all that, and also because you never know when you’ll have another student protest. Reduce, reuse, recycle.

Lucas: Sure.

Riley: And I was in total agreement, but now that I’m here actually trying to get them all to stay put…

Lucas: Do you want some help?

Riley blinks. Surprised by the offer, even though she doesn’t know why. She shouldn’t be, not from him.

Riley: Sure. Sure, that would be great.

Lucas comes over to join her, rolling up his sleeves and helping tackle the stubborn protest memorabilia. They manage to complete the task as a team, stuffing it all into the closet and shutting the door firmly to seal it inside.

Riley: Wouldn’t want to be the teacher who opens that at the start of next term.

Lucas laughs, earning a bashful smile from Riley. There’s a lingering moment between them, and then Lucas asks why Riley went to so much effort in the first place.

Lucas: You really didn’t have to do all that.

Riley: I know. I don’t have to do anything. [ off his eye roll ] But of course I did. I wasn’t going to just do nothing.

Fair enough, but not exactly an explanation. When Lucas eyes her expectantly, she sighs, crossing her arms and shrugging. Knowing he can tell there’s more to it, but not sure there’s a way to articulate it.

Riley: It just wasn’t right. Everything they were doing. Putting you on blast to gain something for themselves, exploiting your personal difficulties for themselves --

Lucas: Well, hard to say I didn’t get myself into that.

Riley: But you didn’t deserve it, Lucas. No one deserves to be treated that way, even you. [ a beat, then softer ] Especially you.

That’s certainly a new take. Lucas absorbs the sentiment, holding her gaze. Trying to believe, for the first time, that maybe she’s right.

She looks away first, overwhelmed by the moment. She shrugs her shoulders again, still searching for what to say. The longer she rambles, the softer Lucas’s expression grows.

Riley: And I mean, they were just going to kick you out. And for what? Again, no one should have to worry about something like that, but… I mean, it’s you. And this is your home. [ a beat ] This is your home, and I wasn’t just going to let them take it from you.

Lucas, thoughtful: … I don’t think home is a place.

Riley lifts her gaze, meeting his eyes. Lucas lingers in looking at her for a moment longer, really looking at her… and then he closes the distance between them, pulling her into a kiss.

It takes a moment for Riley to catch up with what’s happening, almost in disbelief. But that only lasts a second, and she initiates the next kiss with double the enthusiasm and zero hesitation.

It’s about damn time.

They get lost in it, Riley wrapping her arms around his shoulders. They stumble a bit and back into the closet door, taking a moment to ground themselves. Still close together, foreheads touching, breathing shallow as they catch their breath.

Riley opens her eyes, taking him in while he’s so close and right there in front of her. Finally in her grasp, after the longest wait in the world.

Then, she laughs. Quiet, relieved, genuinely happy.

Lucas mirrors her smile, looking away shyly. Riley tilts his head back towards her to give him another slow kiss, which he happily accepts.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Dylan finishes out the last few riffs of the song, Asher watching him fondly with his chin propped on the microphone. He plays the last chord, then lifts his head to lock eyes with him. Dylan gives him a loving smile, pride shining in his eyes.

As it should be.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack finishes throwing out the last of the Bradford materials, settling down in his desk chair. He takes a moment to look around at his office… and then releases a sigh. Finally getting to breathe, after holding his breath for what feels like months.

Eric knocks lightly on his door, leaning against the doorframe and congratulating him.

Eric: I didn’t know you were a lawyer.

Jack: Ha ha ha… so very funny…

Eric can’t help but grin. Jack thanks him for all of his help -- he would not have been able to get through it without him.

Eric: Well, don’t give me too much credit. I’m not exactly a legal expert --

Jack: I’m not just talking about that, Eric.

Oh. Well… oh. If that doesn’t sum up how joined their work is, how this place really only runs because of one another… Eric nods bashfully, accepting the compliment. A moment lingers between them, but it’s not heavy. It’s something light, refreshing… something new between them, even if they don’t quite know how to define it yet.

Even still, Jack claims the show must go on. He highly doubts Missy Bradford is just going to let this thing die out -- considering all the trouble she went to this time around, he doesn’t see her giving up the crusade so easily. What baby wants, baby gets…

As it turns out, that’s something Eric wanted to talk to Jack about. He actually may have discovered a different compromise while Jack was going to court… not ideal, by any stretch of the imagination, but… Jack straightens up, curious and concerned.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

The A class is assembled, and it’s pointed just how different the energy in the room feels compared to the start of the year. There’s a real sense of camaraderie amongst them that was never there before, and the mood is light as they all chat before they’re dismissed.

That spirit only brightens when Riley and Lucas come through the door… holding hands. For a second everyone simply absorbs the sight… then Dylan gets to his feet, starting a slow clap. Dave joins in and before long the entire class is sarcastically applauding, Yogi wolf-whistling. Riley shakes her head and bites back a smile as she leads the way to their seats, Lucas flipping the techie crew off as they go.

Harper and Shawn take the stage, genuinely congratulating the class for getting through this hell year. It was tough -- for all of them, as the look Shawn and Harper exchange indicates -- but they survived it. They stretched themselves, they learned some hard lessons, and they grew stronger for it. They raised their voices, and it made a difference. The class breaks into applause again, Zay leaning forward to jostle Riley on the shoulder.

And with that, there’s not much more to say… except it’s a total mystery what the hell senior year will dish for them. There’s one more announcement they need to give… only it’s not their announcement to make. Harper passes the focus to Charlie, gesturing him forward as she and Shawn give him the floor.

Maya: [ under her breath, to Isadora ] I’m still trying to figure out when we gave him speaking privileges...?

The class is obviously at a loss for what Charlie could possibly be about to say. He’s never been one for grand gestures, but he’s up there now, addressing the full room of them. He starts by once again shouting out Riley and Isadora for the effort they put into the protest, and he mentions how inspiring it was to be a part of it and see what it really means to be selfless. To give so much of your time and energy to something you care about, not because it benefits you, but because it’s the right thing to do.

He’s also really happy that Lucas will get to stay at Adams.

Charlie: You’re a big part of the reason this class is as good as it is -- I mean, you all are. And God… is it a good class. Best thing I’ve ever been a part of by far. It’s no wonder Missy Bradford wanted in so badly.

From his tone, people are starting to get concerned. Haley and Clarissa are watching him curiously, wondering what’s going on. Riley frowns.

Riley: Charlie?

Charlie: Missy wanted to get into Triple A, and she wasn’t going to just stop at Lucas. I think we all know that. But the good news is, she’s not going to be coming after anyone else. [ a beat ] Missy isn’t going to come for anyone else’s spot in the senior class, because she’s taking mine. I’ll be transferring to Haverford Prep, starting in the fall.

The reaction from the A class is stunned, then uproarious. All of them protest, ranging from shocked outbursts to outright denials. Charlie tries to get them to calm down, trying to keep everything from derailing.

Dave: This rich bitch is begging to get egged.

Charlie shouts over them, getting them to pull it back together. He speaks with all the confidence he can muster, trying to be strong.

Charlie: It’s good, okay? It’s gonna be good. I think… I think the change will be good for me. And this way, no one else has to deal with the Bradfords --

Nate: Until we have to deal with her every day.

Clarissa: Yeah, Charlie, this isn’t fair. You’re part of the A class. You belong here.

Maybe so, Clarissa. Maybe so. Charlie’s facade cracks for the first time, hesitating when he tries to figure out how to respond.

Charlie, quietly: Sometimes the right thing isn’t always fair. But I want to do this. I’m making the choice… even if it’s not ideal for me.

It’s clear there will be no arguing this. He’s made up his mind, making the most selfless choice he thinks he possibly could by letting them go.

Charlie: But I asked Miss Burgess if it would be okay for me to do my final performance for you guys, even though it’s supposed to be one-on-one. If it was going to be my last one, I… I wanted to share it with you.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Take Care of Yourself” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Charlie Gardner

And what a final AAA performance he gives. Charlie effectively uses his swan song as a goodbye, his gentle and unassuming tenor creating the exact right feeling like a comforting hug. Even though all of them are stunned and some of his classmates are in tears -- as is he, by the end of the rendition -- he gives the distinct feeling that everything is going to be okay. It won’t be the same, but it will be okay. And that has to be enough.

He shares small moments with each of his major classmates -- Yindra, and Nigel. He accepts a tight hug from Clarissa. He shakes his head fondly at Haley as he sings the lyrics “no more tears to cry, I’m out of goodbyes,” wiping some of the tears from her cheeks.

She’s not the only one in tears. When he gets to Riley it gets harder to get through the performance, his voice cracking on the falsetto a bit as he takes her hand. She squeezes it tightly, mouthing an I love you before he pulls away. She shifts and hides her head in Lucas’s shoulder, who is still in complete disbelief.

By the time he gets back to the front and swivels to face them all again, there’s only one person left to address.

Zay has been silent the entire time, totally out of words. He’s just staring at Charlie, tears slipping down his cheeks even though it’s like he doesn’t know they’re there. He can’t process it. He can’t believe it’s actually happening.

But Charlie looks right at him as he sings the last set of lines, the eye contact deliberate and full of meaning.

Take care of yourself, I love you.

INT. CHUBBIE’S DINER - DAY

In spite of the emotional whammy, there’s still plenty to celebrate. Another year around the bend, the fact that Lucas isn’t going to have to return to Quincy. No one is going to be absolutely decimated by Bradford money, so the junior A class has gathered at the local diner to celebrate the victory.

The techies share in a group toast, cheering the fact that the original odd octet are going into senior year still a united front. Dylan and Asher make a special toast to Lucas, eternally grateful that their fearless leader wasn’t brutally taken from them by the claws of capitalism.

Dave: A-fucking-men.

Jade also adds an addition to the toast, signaling out Isadora for all the effort she put into the protest effort. It definitely didn’t go unnoticed, and while things aren’t completely all right and in order between her and the techie crew, it seems as though they’ll be able to repair things in the end.

She’s pulled from the moment by her phone ringing, recognizing Valerie’s number and eagerly going to take the call. She tells Lucas she’ll be right back, going into the back to answer.

They’ve made a great victory… but a victory they really only have because Charlie took the fall. Zay says as much, not nearly in the same high spirits as he sits across from Riley. She’s torn, caught between the elation of Lucas not having to leave and the reality of her good friend volunteering to sacrifice his spot instead. Charlie, pointedly, is not in attendance.

She questions if Zay really had no idea, if Charlie really didn’t say anything. He shakes his head, obviously embittered. Nothing about Haverford, nothing about the possibility, and definitely nothing about actually making the decision.

Zay: No. No, he didn’t. And now he’s not even here to face it. [ sharply ] He’s just… gone.

Oof. Riley reaches across the table and takes his hand, offering whatever comfort she can.

Still, celebration. Lots of things to celebrate! Maya makes her way over to Lucas, pithily congratulating him on still somehow managing to evade cosmic consequence for his overall general existence.

Maya: It seems you and I get to enjoy one more glorious year of barely tolerating one another.

Lucas: Oh, just what I was looking forward to the very most.

Maya: It’ll be even better now, considering you’ll be swapping spit with my roommate whenever possible. [ off his disturbed expression ] Yeah, speaking of, it would be peachy if you two could not do that in our shared bedroom. Just, you know, common courtesy.

Maya lecturing anyone about courtesy is a laugh riot, but Lucas just wants this conversation to end. As he points out, maybe they’ll get to avoid it anyway, right? If all goes as planned, she’ll be moving in with Isadora, and they’ll never have to cross paths outside of the AAA auditorium. Ever. And they should never speak of this again.

Speaking of, Maya asks where Isadora wandered off to. Lucas nods towards the back room, claiming she said she’d be back after she talked to her mom.

Well, it’s been a hot minute since she left to do that. Sure, there’s a lot to fill her in on, but Maya is nothing if not nosy. Besides, she’s not going to pass up the chance to jump in on a conversation with Valerie De La Cruz. Maya makes her way towards the back to look for her.

INT. CHUBBIE’S DINER - BACK ROOM - NIGHT

Maya pokes her head in to the back area, peering around for Isadora. She manages to find her sitting on an overturned bucket in the corner of the room, no longer on the phone. She questions what she’s still doing back here when the party is out there -- and did she miss the call with Val?

Isadora doesn’t respond. She’s staring into space, expression totally blank. Maya grows concerned when she realizes her phone is at her feet, screen shattered after hitting the concrete flooring.

Maya: Izzy?

She comes over to kneel in front of her, asking what’s wrong. Isadora still doesn’t speak, almost like she’s frozen. Maya gently touches her knee.

Maya: Izzy, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.

For another long moment, silence. Then she manages to speak, the words coming out numb.

Isadora: My mom is dead.

The words hit like a freight train. Maya stares at her, stunned, the revelation slowly sinking in.

END OF EPISODE.

[earthrealmlesbian]

Since it's proven to be canon, Kotalblack headcanons?

I'm....perhaps too into Kotalblack. This got really long since I couldn't help but add a lot of thoughts about them as individuals. Tumblr has decided I'm not allowed to use read mores unfortunately so rip. 

Side note: You didn't ask for it but I had some thoughts about their sex life so I've included some nsfw hcs. Hope you don't mind! 

Sfw:

• Kotal is a considerate lover and even at his most firm is undeniably gentle with his partner. A fact that almost scares Erron off at first. Sure, it's one thing to fuck your boss but falling in love with him when he -scoff- treats you nice? Come on now. Kotal demands respect in a relationship but gives the same in return and that sounds downright healthy to Erron. This cowboy isn't sure how to handle a relationship like that at first. Kotal deals with Erron's flighty nature with a steady, patient hand and after some time Erron settles into the relationship. 

• These two are more openly affectionate than many other characters. Nothing raunchy, especially on Kotal's end. Erron will shoot anyone that gives them a dirty look right through the eyes and Kotal's the Emperor so.....who's gonna question them? Erron is a flirt through and through. He'll tone it down to something reasonable for Kotal's sake but he's still going to throw out the occasional tease or hungry look. Kotal's brand of affection is a hand rested softly on the small of Erron's back, tender smiles or the occasional smirk when he humors Erron's flirting. Nothing overt but watching him you might mistake them for a couple that's been together for decades. Whether they have or not. It's all vaguely domestic? Their lives are hectic, which Erron thrives on, but he's learned to take comfort in Kotal's steady presence. 

• Kotal is actually interested in Earthrealm's variety of cultures. He's not been to Earthrealm since his realmwalk and has had little chance to keep up with its every changing people. On quiet nights he'll stay up with Erron asking about anything and everything he can think of. Erron points out there's A LOT of cultures and even he's not familiar with all of them but he's happy to tell what he knows. Erron can make anything sound interesting and that only encourages him to ask more. 

• Likewise, Erron is curious about Osh-Tekk culture. He's curious by nature and always collects stories from the places he visits before moving on. He's got a feeling he won't be wandering away from Kotal anytime soon but he's still eager to learn. Still, he approaches the subject carefully. For his part, Kotal is grateful that someone is genuinely interested in his lost people. There's bitter sweetness in his recollections, but he's the type to face things head on so he freely shares many parts of his past. Erron doesn't press when Kotal reaches a memory that's harder to share, just waits for the words to come piecemeal, if at all. Sharing stories like this is a huge part of their relationship. They've been through a lot and bond through their long nights burnt away talking. 

• Speaking of....speaking? Kotal is enthralled by Erron's accent and dialect. He thinks it's incredibly charming how Erron can so smoothly deliver an entirely incomprehensible sentence. He can glean the meaning of most of Erron's sayings after a moments thought, they're all just so WILD. It amuses him greatly. One time Erron was fuming about some new, hapless guard he was trying to whip into shape. His hands were going a mile a minute and he finally huffed out "I tell you what, that boy couldn't pour piss out a boot if the instructions were on the heel!" Kotal choked out the ugliest laugh and gave him the most confused smile. "Excuse me???" 

• Erron would eat lead before he'd admit it but Kotal's deep voice and commanding aura make him feel safe. He's no damsel in distress but safety is a foreign concept to him. Kotal makes him feel comfortable, almost free of his usual paranoia. It's nice, if disconcerting. 

• Kotal is sentimental. Erron less so. They make it work. Erron makes an effort to remember their anniversary and to do little things to let Kotal knows he values their shared memories in his own way. He gets an Osh-Tekk saying engraved on his favorite gun. Kotal makes him a necklace of leather, beads and engraved bone. Erron wears it religiously. It warms Kotal's heart when he catches Erron thumbing the beads, unconsciously seeking comfort. Later, much later in their relationship, Erron begins to wear paint in appropriate designs on his exposed arms. He does it to honor Osh-Tekk culture and in turn Kotal. It stops Kotal cold the first morning Erron catches him alone while donning the paint. He's touched to say the least. 

• Kotal would marry Erron in a heartbeat. Erron has a lot of thoughts about that. He may have settled into their relationship, may even like the stability it offers more than he's willing to admit, but making it "official" scares him. He thinks it's like begging bad luck to rear her head. Kotal isn't surprised or even particularly upset about it. He's got a long life to live. He's content to openly be with Erron and wait patiently for the cowboy to chew on the idea of wedding vows. 

• They like to go riding together. Erron prefers Earthrealm horses but he'll take anything that can gallop at this point. He thinks Kotal leaned over, eyes forward, pushing his mount as fast as it'll go cuts a striking image. (this is a sfw headcanon but maybe Erron's thoughts on the matter are a little nsfw :/ )

• They don't tend to do official dates or anything besides anniversaries but they find time to treat each other. Kotal takes his duties seriously but he let's Erron's wilder nature pull him into stepping away occasionally and indulging. Erron also eventually shows him his secret spot. They duck into it every now and then when their day is overwhelming. 

• They've taken the time to learn each other's weapons. Well, Erron can't really wield the macuahuitl properly but the sickles are manageable. They're not really interested in each others weapons but thought it would be a good challenge. Erron does alright on his end but Kotal just cannot get the hang of firearms. He can use them, but his aim is garbage. Erron only teases him a little. 

• Erron suffered from heatstroke once. It's made more embarrassing by the fact Kotal was there, had warned him he was pushing himself too far during training and he still kept going. Erron isn't one to be babied which Kotal knows. Still, afterwards there's always a suspicious amount of water on hand when Kotal is around. During the hottest part of the day if Erron catches Kotal's eyes flicking back and forth between the sweat on his brow and the canteen on his belt he'll give a wry smile and take a drink. "Stop lookin’ at me like that. I'm not gonna pass out again." Kotal only teases him a little. 

• Kotal asks Erron's opinion on political matters often. He swears he isn't one for political nonsense but he's glad his opinion is valued either way. 

• They both very much enjoy music. They go to the performances of court musicians as often as time allows. Erron likes to scope out the market for street performers he thinks have talent so he can get them to play for Kotal. He's not doing it out of kindness or anything but if a street performer or two earns a spot among the court’s performers and enjoys a more comfortable life for it who's he to complain? Kotal is privy to the knowledge that a much younger Erron Black aspired to be a musician but gave it up when life got complicated. He's happy to watch the singers Erron recommends. Even happier when Erron breaks out his old guitar and sings to him in private. 

• Kotal teaches Erron the Osh-Tekk language. It's useful since nobody besides historians and some of his more dedicated warriors know it. It allows them to communicate secretly in the open. Which....sometimes means them openly shit talking annoying politicians trying to curry favor in meetings. Ermac and Reptile know enough to understand most of the insults and always give said politicians looks of pity. 

• It's also useful when Kotal is feeling extra affectionate. He'll slip in Osh-Tekk pet names during morning briefings and watch the corners of Erron's eyes crinkle the way they do when he's smirking. Again, Ermac and Reptile know. They're used to it and rarely give the behavior more then a small smile.

NSFW: 

• Both are switches. Erron bottoms more often than not but Kotal has no qualms changing things up. He's especially fond of Erron fucking him missionary so he can pull him close by the back of the neck and look intensely into his eyes. Kotal is big on eye contact. 

• Neither is shy about sex. Both have a high sex drive. Most mornings include at least a quick blowjob. 

• Given both aren't particularly inhibited, they enjoy an adventurous sex life. Before Erron, Kotal didn't indulge much despite his high sex drive. There was little time and few he could trust. As such, he didn't have a variety of experiences. He's good at what he knew but was eager to broaden his horizons. Erron has been around more and tried plenty. He's always amused when he tells Kotal about this or that kink Earthrealmers are into and gets a shocked look every time. Equally amused when Kotal is keen on giving it a try at least once. 

• Kotal may be interested in trying things but he's got a lot of limits when it comes to pain. Both receiving and giving. They have to have a conversation regarding some of Erron's less than healthy past encounters so Kotal can essentially list off the things he won't do. That said, he's fine with being dominant/dominated or rough within reason. 

• One thing both agree on is marking each other is appealing. Kotal isn't very possessive, he doesn't need to be, but he'll admit seeing Erron display his handiwork gets him going. Erron has a hickey on his throat almost constantly. When things get a little more wild Kotal likes to bite. Erron loves looking at the love bites along his chest, hips and inner thighs the morning after. It's harder for Erron to leave marks but Kotal is thrilled when he tries. 

• Erron has a bit of a complex about his mask. He's used to having it on even in bed. Kotal isn't unkind about it, but he's firm about the mask coming off when things start getting serious between them. Erron takes it off himself, sometimes reluctantly, but he grows used to the intimacy. Kotal never asks to take it off for him, sensing it might be too much. He's right, but eventually Erron works up the courage to let him and it immediately becomes a thing between them. Kotal carefully, reverently unbuckles the straps like he's unveiling a treasure. The gentle adoration never fails to make Erron shiver. 

• They have a few oddly reverent practices in the bedroom. Erron is into body worship and it's one of the few things he's embarrassed about since he's gotten teased about it before. Kotal isn't perturbed however. Erron has a thing for bathing Kotal. He'll sit on his lap in their tub and get to work. He takes extra care in wiping away every hint of paint and after will usually wash Kotal's hair. (Mkx ponytail please come back). Kotal enjoys it and is content to lounge while his cock slowly hardens from the teasing, sensual touches. They usually end up fucking right there in the tub, just as slow and leisurely. 

• A similar activity is when Erron takes his sweet time tracing Kotal's tattoos(?). First with his fingers though his mouth is never far behind. 

• Erron has a filthy mouth when he wants to. Kotal isn't shy and isn't easily embarrassed but sometimes Erron gets so into it he'll start begging to be filled up in some very explicit terms and Kotal will go a little red. 

• Kotal likes to watch Erron play with himself. A lot. Toys are a fairly new concept to him and when he realizes they can make watching all the more exciting he goes all out on purchasing any that catch Erron's eye. Kotal likes to sit in a chair a few feet from there bed and quietly watch Erron fuck himself. Erron likes being watched. It always gives him goosebumps to have Kotal's eyes picking apart his every movement like that. Calm, almost distant and utterly in control until Erron's efforts are impossible to ignore. 

• They've fucked on almost every inch of the throne room. If Erron doesn't get bent over the throne at least once a month something's up. Likewise, Kotal likes to sit Erron on the throne and ride him like his life depends on it. 

• Erron is down for a quickie whenever. Like at all times. Kotal prefers to take his time but he can be encouraged to indulge Erron if the cowboy plays his cards right.

[caiuscassiuss]

Silver and Black (badboy au! NCT Jaemin)

Description: badboy! Jaemin and French transfer student! reader || He thought your accent was hot, but the leather jacket on his back and the motorcycle he rode warned you away from him. (for anon)

Genre: comedy | angst | fluff

WC: 4.2k

Warnings: profanity, so many tropes, underage drinking

masterlist | requests | updates

   School here was… different.    Wow, great observation, y/n. Full marks.    To be fair, it did look somewhat like the movies you always liked to watch back at home. There were mostly defined groups of peoples huddled by rows of lockers, what you assumed were the popular girls wearing bright and trendy clothing and the so-called “nerds” wearing graphic tees and ill-fitting jeans. Colorful flyers advertising various clubs like anime or technical society floated around, whether it be pinned on walls or stuffed unceremoniously in your face. Oh my, you could even the puffs of smoke produced by the stoners in the corner.    You were relieved to note that your skirt and long-sleeved top were appropriate, not underdressed nor too overdressed. You clutched your new backpack, a nice leather one your grandmére had given you on your move from France. It didn’t quite look like the neon or complicated ones your new classmates sported, but it was alright; it was refreshing to be unique, after all.    The rather loud bell rang as you settled into the hard plastic desk, placing your bookbag on the floor and books on your desk. The classroom was dingy and I looked like the ceiling tiles were about to rot and crash down upon unsuspecting students. It seemed like crappy classrooms transcended across all borders.    “Welcome, everyone, for another wonderful year in honors literature! It is nice to see all your beaming faces in my classroom this year!” Mrs. Johnson said to the unenthused, bored faces of the students in front of her. A rather awkward pause went through the classroom as no one responded, tired because of the early morning time or just not excited to be present. Mrs. Johnson, in her apparent jovial manner, took it all in stride and moved the conversation to another topic.    “In other news, we have a new student all the way from France! Hello Y/n!”    Heads turned towards you, and you blushed under the gazes of your curious classmates.    “Erm, nice to meet you, Mrs. Johnson,” you said.    “How is America? Nice? Boring? Fun?” Mrs. Johnson pressed on.    “It’s rather nice. Different, but very fun,” You cordially replied, a hesitant smile on your face.    “That’s good! Perhaps, in our European literature unit, you can give us another perspective” — she winked at you as if sharing a secret— “but anyways, please make her feel welcome!”    On the other side of the classroom, near the back, sat a boy lazily postured in his seat like the classroom was his living room. A leather jacket was slung over the back of his chair, revealing the boy’s toned arms in a white t-shirt, bracelets, and chains on his heavily veined forearms. Piercing eyes laid behind ruffled brown hair, the abyssal black pupils gleaming with interest. A smirk crept up his chiseled face as he heard the pretty new transfer student speak to Mrs. Johnson in accented English, the clear French accent stirring up some excitement in him.        “Oh, I’ll make her feel welcome alright.”

   “Come! You can eat with me and my friends during lunch!” your student guide, Aimee, exclaimed to you as she leads you through the crowded hallways.    She was rather nice, you thought. It seemed she had an endless supply of energy within her petite frame, ready to answer questions and initiate warm conversation. She was a junior, like you, and had said she was part of the Science and Math honor societies. While no Renee, your best friend from Paris, Aimee was someone you could see yourself hanging out with.    “Oh, thank you! I’d be delighted to,” you smiled at her while stuffing the chemistry syllabus in your bookbag.    You were suddenly overwhelmed by the boisterous and loud atmosphere of your high school’s cafeteria. Not much different from the canteen in your old school.    Aimee pushed you through the lunchline, chatting with you as you selected a nice Greek salad and a pressed juice. The “Chinese” noodles looked unappetizing, and so did the gravy and mashed potatoes option in the other line.    “Yeah, you’ll find that American high school food is terrible. My tip: don’t eat the pizza and whenever the lunch lady asks you if you want Yum Yum sauce, say no.” Aimee grimaced as she took a salad and water too.    “Will do,” you laughed.    Navigating between the mazes of the tables and students, you sat next to Aimee at a table outside in the pavilion. You greeted the friends she had introduced to you, all seemed very nice and just as exuberant as Aimee.    “So, you’ve got to tell us.” Jade, a gorgeous Chinese girl, leaned in conspiratorially towards you over her sandwich.    “Hm?” You paused mid-bite of your salad.    “How hot are the French guys?” The whole table exploded in giggles and laughter.

   “Where’s the next party, Haechan? Your house or my house?” Mark asked while taking a bite of his cheeseburger.    Haechan swallowed a bite of his hot dog before pointing at Chenle.    “Let’s hold it at Chenle's house. His house is hella big and I wanna convert his foyer into whipped cream slip and slide,” he snickered.    “What the fuck? Hell yeah to the party, hell no to the slip and slide. Last time you tried that we somehow got taffy stuck to the ceiling and one of your buddies broke a Ming dynasty base from my great-great mother.” Chinle frowned.    “Aw fuck.” Haechan pouted.    “We could just do it at the lake on Saturday. No repercussions, privacy, great spot to do whatever weird games Haechan comes up with.” Jaemin lazily says. He takes a sip of his water bottle filled with vodka and leans his arms onto the table.    “You know I’m the one that actually makes the party fun, right? If I weren’t here, all you motherfuckers would be left with a dry-ass party,” Haechan counters.    “Sorry, but I provide the booze. Then Y'all wouldn’t be able to have a party, period.” Renjun slips into next to Jaemin at the lunch table. He takes off his grey sweatshirt revealing a red tee underneath, drawing the gaze of many girls who gasped and whispered furiously.    “Damn, flexing for the chicks aren’t ya?” Marks crows as he offers his hand for a high five.    “For one, actually.” Renjun slaps Mark’s hand back and chugs his coke.    “Who attracted the illustrious Huang Renjun’s attention?” Chenle asks sarcastically.    Renjun points to you, who is walking with Aimee to their table. Your quick stride exposed your legs and your hair blew around in the wind.    “You see that girl? She’s the new transfer student from France. I think her name was Y/n or something like that. She’s pretty.” Renjun’s face contorts in a lascivious expression before everyone hums in agreement, transfixed by your pretty face and gorgeous features.    Jaemin caught sight of you, the girl whom he wanted to make-out within his literature class. His eyes narrowed.    “You can’t have that one Renjun. I saw her first in 1st period.” Jaemin says in a low tone, promises of retribution hidden in plain sight in his tone.    Renjun looks to him in surprise.    “Fuck, fine, fine. Goddamnit, she’s hella hot.” Renjun whined.

   “Hey!” A voice called out to you in the hallways.    You turned around to see an extremely handsome boy striding towards you. He reminded you of one of those boys you would see in the vogue magazines that your friends pored over endlessly, the boy that would be on phone backgrounds and editorials. However, your eyes caught sight of his leather jacket and ruffled hair and that was a message screaming DANGER.    “Hey, you’re that French transfer student right? Y/n?” the boy’s mouth pulled up into a mischievous grin, his lip piercing gleaming. He sidled next to you, his long legs slowing down to keep stride with your admittedly shorter ones. His gait was leisurely as if he had all the time in the world and was only more substantiated by his hands in his pockets.    “Yes,” you icily said, your tone clipped. You hoped that your demeanor would tell him to fuck off.    The boy rose an eyebrow curiously but kept going. Well, wasn’t he a determined one.    “The name’s Jaemin. I just thought I’d welcome you to the school, you know, to get you settled in and stuff.”    “I wasn’t aware you were part of the welcoming committee. You certainly don’t look like it,” you snarked, walking faster to get to your chemistry class.    “Woah, Woah, got some claws on you, don’t you, kitten?” the infuriating boy walked faster.    “Given I’m not a feline, nor do I have sharp nails, I don’t.” You were almost there.    “Mmm, well, we’ll see about that,” Jaemin smirked at you, his eyebrow piercing gleaming in the artificial hallway lights.    You caught sight of the door plate 8237 and nearly sobbed in relief (you could feel beads of sweat being to form at your hairline from the exertion). However, before you could make your escape from the boy that emanated trouble, the man in question gripped your elbow firmly and stopped you in your tracks.    He bent down until his lips were at your ear and you could feel his hair on your temple and his breath blowing across your sensitive neck.    “See you around, kitten.”

   “Bro, it’s literally been like your first day here and you’ve already attracted our resident bad boy! Tell me your secrets, oh goddess!” Jade exclaimed dramatically as you sat with her during the last period. The girl really reminded you of Renee; both were bold, brash, and unabashedly dramatic. Jade and Renee would’ve been best friends had they met each other.    “What?” you asked confusedly.    “Maybe it’s the French allure, you know?” Aimee joked as she sat down diagonally from the pair of you.    Jade set her hands down on the desk carefully like she was delivering the verdict of a court case, her face contorted in a determined expression. “Okay, so Ruby told Callie who told Sooyoung who then told—”    “Shut up, Jade, and get to the point.” Aimee cut her off.    Jade made a face but continued.    “TLDR, a lot of people saw Jaemin Na almost giving you a hickey in the hallway.”    The boy who has been on your mind all day was known as a “bad boy”?    God, you knew America was cliche, but not to this extent.    Wait, fuck. You processed what Jade had said slowly, but with growing horror, you understood the implications of her statement.    “Oh, je suis foutu (I am screwed),” you whispered fearfully and slammed your head into the desk. The other students already in your classroom looked towards you, but seeing nothing exciting was worth looking at, went back to their conversations. Aimee and Jade exchanged confused glances with each other.    “I don’t know what you just said, but that sounded hot. Probably the reason why Jaemin wants to push you up against a locker and make-out.” Jade said bluntly, with Aimee nodding primly in agreement.    Your only response was a muffled groan.

   Boy, had he just found a catch.    Pretty, different, and a challenge— it seems this school year wouldn’t be so monotonous after all.        Jaemin smirked as he leaned against a locker, and watched the French girl put her books in her locker. Students passed them by as the school bell rang signaling the end of the day, bustling and loud with endless activity. As focused as he was on you, it did not escape his peripheral vision that many girls were giving him side glances or suggestive winks. Usually, he would respond and even occasionally pursue a pair of battering eyelashes, but today, he had one goal and one goal only.    She slammed her locker shut and tightened the leather backpack over her shoulders. As soon as she passed by him and neared the exit doors he got up from his position and walked up by her.    “Hey kitten, how’s it going?” he slung an arm over her shoulders and he could feel her tense underneath his touch.    “Please, don’t touch me,” you looked him straight in the eyes and shoved his heavy arm off your shoulder.    He took it all in stride and hefted his muscled arm over your shoulders, now his hand wrapped around one of the straps of your bookbag so that if you tried to push him off, your book bag would go down with it. You were effectively trapped.    “Still didn’t answer my question though.”    “Maybe it’s because I don’t want to? You’re the type of guy that makes a mile out of an inch, so stop trying to flirt with me.”    Jaemin ignored your protests and turned the path in the sidewalk with you.    “I’m going to assume your day is not going well by your spicy attitude—”    “What!?”    “ — so I’m going to make it better.”    Jaemin with you in hand dragged you into the streets and kept walking with you on the sidewalk. He was leading you to the line of shops located near the school, which you had meant to explore on the weekend, but it looks like you’re going to get one now. At this point, you just give up on trying to resist stop tugging yourself away from him and just kind of… go with it. Jaemin tightens his hold on you a bit more and stops in front of Ann’s Ice Cream Shoppe.    “This is one of the best ice cream places and hang out spots in the town.  Thought this would be a great place to end your day.” Jaemin glances down at you with a half-smile. Oh? You are pleasantly surprised by how genuine he sounds, and you soften your resolve against him a little bit. Just a little bit.    The door opens with a ding and the air conditioning blasts you in the face like an explosion. The red and white themed shop smelled of sickeningly sweet waffle cones and chocolate.    “Welcome to Anne’s! What would you like to eat?” the cashier brightly asks as you come in. She looked like a lovely old lady. Jaemin glances at you. “You can go first.”    Your eyes scan over the many buckets of ice cream and ponder over which flavor of ice cream would be the best. The pink strawberry ice cream catches your eye, and you instantly decide to get that one.    “Em… strawberry, please?”    “Alright dear, what size and in a cup or a cone?”    “Just small, please, and… in a cup,” You certainly didn’t want Jaemin to get any ideas if you chose a waffle cone. From Tokyo to Rome, teenage boys were horny idiots that could turn any gesture into an innuendo.    Jaemin quickly orders his frozen treat (chocolate) and you both step up to the counter to pay. You get out your wallet to pay (why was American money all the same color? How weird) but Jaemin forks over some bills to the old lady before you could.    “Wha—”    “I wasn’t going to let a girl that I dragged here pay.”    Mr. Vogue Editorial had manners now, did he?    The old lady scoops yours up first and hands it up with a smile. Jaemin takes hold of it and passes it to you.    “A sweet treat for a sweet girl.” He smirks.    "Shut up." You blush but roll your eyes.    "You're such a cute pair. Oh, it reminds me of Jerry and I back in the days!" the old lady at the counter laughs.    Before you could protest, Jaemin smiles at her. "Thank you."    "Have a nice day,  you two!"    Jaemin drags you away from her and the pair of you settle down at a glossy red table near a window, and quickly dig into your frozen confectionaries.    The pair of you settle down at a glossy red table near a window, and quickly dig into your frozen confectionaries.    “So, tell me, why did you move across the good ole’ Atlantic to end up at American high school?” Jaemin asks casually while leaning back in his chair. The lip piercing gleams brightly from the window light.    You wipe your lips with a napkin delicately. “Uh, my father was transferred to the North American branch of his company and so I had to move here with him. Nothing exciting, really.”    “Where were you from?”    “Paris. On the outskirts, but still very much near the city center.”    “Paris, huh? Suburban America must seem very boring to Paris,” Jaemin laughs as he takes a bite of his cone.    “It’s good though. Very calm. Relaxing, I guess you could say.”    The two of you fall into a semi-awkward silence until 20 Dollar Nose Bleed comes over the speakers and you grin. You were one of those rarities among your group of friends that liked Fall Out Boy, while the rest liked One Direction or some UK solo artists. While you were astonished that such an old song would be playing, you hum along with the song nonetheless.    Your soft humming catches the attention of Jaemin, who was pleasantly surprised you knew such an old, hidden track from his favorite band and that you knew it quite well.    “You like Fall Out Boy?”    “Of course! I love them. I’ve been with them since I discovered Save Rock and Roll,” you grin at him.    “Seriously? They’re, like, my favorite band!”    Jaemin could feel his interest in you growing, a superficial attraction turning into something deeper. Not many girls that he liked to play around with liked the same music as he did, and if they did, only really basic songs.    You were turning out to be a bag full of surprises.

   The weeks went by and the leaves on the trees turned to red, orange, and yellow. School settled in until you were in a storm of tests and homework projects. The start of the school year seemed so long ago.    However, your friendship with Jaemin blossomed. Yes, he was still extremely flirty with you and was touchier than was acceptable, but Jaemin quickly became one of your closest friends. You often sat in lit class next to each other and hung out after school when you were both free. You loved arguing over trivial things and just listening to Fall Out Boy’s albums together.    You smiled slightly, thinking to when Renee had seen Jaemin’s Instagram and freaked out over facetime. Renee kept pestering you on whether he was your boyfriend, but you always denied her. She had been supremely jealous you had found such a boy, but bragged about it to the girls at your old school. However, you had gotten some DM’s from acquaintances to mention them to Jaemin. Ridiculous! As if they could ever have a viable relationship.    “What are you smiling about, y/n?” Jaemin asked as you were walking through the neighborhood park. It was such a nice day today, very sunny, yet Jaemin still wore his signature leather jacket and shiny Doc Martens looking like he was about to pop some wheelies on his bike down the street.    “Nothing,” you waved him off.    “You were thinking about me, weren’t you? I knew you couldn’t get my handsome face out of your mind—”    “Shut up!” you exclaim and push him roughly.    Him, being the well-built adolescent he is, did not budge nor break his stride, but the momentum transferred to you and you stumbled back. You hit a ledge and flailed back, but muscled arms wrapped around your waist and shoulders. Jaemin pulled you back but did not let you go, staring you in the eyes intensely.    “Careful,” he whispered softly.    You could only stare back in a daze, eyes wide, unable to look away from his chiseled visage. You snapped yourself out of it and out of his grasp,    “Um, yeah, thank you. That was a bit of a close call, eh?” you glanced back at the river water you could’ve been soaked in had Jaemin not been quick enough.    “Yeah.” Jaemin paused but opened his mouth hesitantly. “Uh, Y/n, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something for a while now.”    “What is it?” you asked with barely contained anticipation. You hoped you didn’t sound too desperate.    “D-Do you want to go with me to the party my friends are hosting on Friday at the lake? It’s alright if you don’t wanna go—”    “I’d love to,” you grinned at him.

   “Oh, mon dieu. No. Absolutely not,” you said, looking horrified at the sight before you.    A large motorbike stood, gleaming in the lights of your porch, like a death trap from hell.    “Oh come on, Y/n, you’ll be fine. Here, I’ve even brought an extra helmet for you.” Jaemin rolled his eyes and produced the aforementioned helmet. As usual, he looked dashing, a teen out of some 60’s bad boy flick. The elements of his outfit were all the same of course, but you noticed he had added more silver and gold accessories like a solid band around his wrist and an engraved ring around his pointer finger.    “Jaemin! I’m going to die!” you exclaimed hysterically.    He merely laughed and wrapped his arm around your shoulders.    “No, you’re not, sweetheart. You trust me, right?” He looked down at you beseechingly.    “...fine,” you pouted.    Minutes later, you were screaming in delight as Jaemin revved up his motorcycle on the highway. The wind blowing through your hair and the speed gave you a rush, exhilaration, and excitement flowing through your veins. It was so much fun.    Jaemin was just happy to feel you pressed up against his back, the warmth of your body giving him comfort. He could feel the stands of your hair whipping against his neck, and smell the sweet scent of your recent shower emanating from you. Riding around in the night with the girl he liked— it was a dream.    Finally, the two of you revved up into a parking lot in front of a park, some laughing teens walking on a path towards a brightly lit area. Looking closer, you could see there was a bonfire going on and trendy music being played on the speakers.    Jaemin helped you off the bike and walked with his hand on the small of your back towards the campfire. The dark trees of the forest led to a clearing with a magnificent view of the shimmering lake, waves glimmering with the light of the bright moon. In the clearing, however, there was a large mass of teens laughing and dancing, bass pumping on speakers. There were some tables filled with food and snacks, but most of them were occupied by alcohol in crates.    “Eyyyy look who it is!” yelled a person from your left. You turned to see Mark, clearly inebriated with Haechan snickering at his side, walking towards you with a beer bottle in his hand.    They met and the trio did a manly handshake while you stood at the side.    “Nice to see you, bro. See you’ve brought your girl with you, huh?”    “Sure did.” Jaemin grins. You notice how he doesn’t object to the label “your girl”.    “Well, enjoy the party. I think Renjun got some cherry vodka if you want it it’s over there.” Haechan gestures to a table with some teens around it.    “Will do.”    Surprisingly, Jaemin did not abandon you to the crowds as you expected. He guided you around the party and introduced you to various people, instead of going to get wasted with his friends. Well, he was currently nursing a beer bottle in his hand but did not go for the cherry-flavored vodka Renjun set out. Kudos to him.    After introducing you to a nice boy named Jungwoo, the pair of you fell silent and walked near the shore of the lake. You were still in view of the party but weren’t so much in the action.    “Hey… uh, I got something to tell you.” Jaemin blurted out suddenly.    “Hm?” you asked confusedly.    “I… I kinda like you.”    A stunned silence followed after.    “A-are you drunk?” you stumbled out, shocked by his confession.    “No! No, nothing like that. I guess it’s a bit sudden, yeah? Well, um… yeah, I like you. You’re… You’re not like the other girls in the school— and I swear I don’t say that to everybody! Just… you. You wanted to be my friend, not use me as arm-candy to brag about. You’re really sweet, kind, funny, and you like my favorite band. You’re… yeah.”    You smiled at him before grasping his shoulders and reaching up to kiss his cheek, leaving a bit of gloss on his cheek.    “I like you too.”    What made you really decide to accept his feelings is that nowhere did he say that you were pretty. Jaemin still might be a big bag of mysteries, but you were sure he was genuine and that made you overcome your doubt of his bad past with girls.    Jaemin smiled his crooked grin that made you melt and leaned down to connect your lips with his. It felt like you were suddenly near the bonfire because warm emanated from the kiss and the heat of his body. You tangled your hands in his ruffled hair and could feel the cold metal of his lip ring against your tongue. He pulled you closer and into the folds of his leather jacket, completely pressed against him. After a few seconds, you pull apart and just settle into each other’s embrace, looking at the beautiful lake.    “Also your accent’s really hot, kitten—”    You slapped him.    “Jaemin!”   Renee and Jade were totally going to freak.

(A/N: oh wow 2 jaemin fics in a row oh my god. not really my most technically advanced piece of writing, but it’s fun to just write your cheesy fantasies lol.  I hope you enjoy and pls like and reblog!)

[nikanndros]

The ‘we met on craigslist’ AU. Part 1. 

It starts, embarrassingly enough, with an ad from Craigslist:

> personals > strictly platonic > Dramatic fake date for function

I’m a 21 y.o theatre student (male), writing a thesis on the relationship between performance and the awareness of the audience. You don’t care about that. I’m an actor offering to give you the most dramatic night of your life. I’ll be your date to any event/function/family gathering, and convince your friends/family members that I’m either: the biggest mistake of your life or the best thing that ever happened to you. Up to you. I’m very good at what I do.

-

Damen is one bottle of wine and three shots of griva (a terrible mix, do not recommend) deep, when he decides to message the guy.

Hi. My family is hosting a valentine’s day event. In attendance will be my ex-girlfriend of the past three years who is also my brother’s current girlfriend of the past two. Do you want to come?

The reply the next morning, when Damen is nursing a very regrettable hangover, is a simple: Yes.

-

Craiglist Guy turns out to be named Laurent. He gives Damen a very complicated explanation of his thesis, but it pretty much boils down to whether a performance is still a performance if the audience doesn’t know it’s happening. Laurent is happy to make Damen’s family event his performance. He requests to see all of Damen’s social media for research and then also apparently has a long stalk of Jokaste’s instagram.

On the night of the party, Laurent arranges to meet Damen at his place, so that they can arrive together. Despite Damen giving Laurent access to his entire online life, all Laurent has given in return is his name. Damen’s not really concerned about what Laurent looks like - despite his apparent preference for blondes, Damen has dated all sorts of people. Just about anyone would be believable. Still, when there’s a knock at his door, and he comes face to face with Laurent for the first time…

“Damen,” Laurent says, after Damen has been standing silently in his doorway for an awkward amount of time.

“Uh,�� Damen says. “Hi.”

Yeah, this will work. Laurent is beautiful. He’s six foot of golden glory. He looks like he was born from the ocean, fully formed and then pushed onto a catwalk. There should be a choir of angels that follow him around to really complete the look. Damen is in trouble.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Laurent asks.

Damen looks down out himself. “...Yes?” The black suit pants, white shirt, black tie combo is a classic. Laurent does not look like he agrees.

He pushes past Damen into the apartment, and Damen would probably think that was rude but he’s also very distracted by the confidence in Laurent. Laurent takes control like it’s natural to him; he walks straight into Damen’s bedroom.

By the time Damen follows him, Laurent has opened up Damen’s closet. “Ditch the tie,” Laurent says, “and roll up your sleeves.”

Damen’s not going to pretend it isn’t kind of hot that Laurent doesn’t even turn around while Damen complies, he just expects his orders to be followed. “Why?” Damen asks.

“You look too put together in all your pictures with your ex,” Laurent says. “We’re going to present you as a happier, more relaxed version of yourself. Trust me, she’s going to hate it.”

“I’m not really…” Damen trails off.

“What.”

“I don’t want to make her unhappy,” Damen says. “I mostly just… didn’t want to go to this thing alone.”

“Do you forgive her for fucking your brother?”

“I don’t hate her.”

“You don’t forgive her though.”

Damen doesn’t reply to that. He doesn’t like to think about himself as someone who holds grudges, but he also wouldn’t be adverse to some minor misfortune befalling Jokaste. Nothing too serious. Just like, she always just misses the bus for the rest of her life or something.

Laurent tears through Damen’s wardrobe, talking as he goes. “You went to France last year with her?” The photos are on instagram still.

“It was a surprise trip,” Damen says. He doesn’t like to think of the romance, the sweet gestures that Jokaste would make that made her seem like someone he could-- He brought it up to Nikandros once, and he’d told Damen it was Jokaste being manipulative. Doing kind things to overshadow all the fights they’d had and the way she’d sometimes ignore his messages for hours on end. “French was my second major. I was going to finish my business degree over there, but…”

“But?” Laurent prompts. He considers a red shirt and then discards it.

“We had a pregnancy scare right before the cut off date, so I decided to stay.”

At that, Laurent stops and turns around to give Damen an incredulous look. “So your girlfriend faked pregnant so you wouldn’t move away to France.”

“No,” Damen says, and then he sits down on the bed. “Shit.”

“Your heart was in the right place,” Laurent says, in a very awkward tone.

Damen raises an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m not great at sympathy.”

“You’re an actor.”

Laurent sighs. “Alright,” he says. He faces Damen properly and walks to him slowly. “Damen,” Laurent continues, with a new kind of intensity. He rests his palm against Damen’s neck, gently prompts him to look up. “I’m sorry she did that to you. I can’t imagine how you feel but, I’ve come to know you and I know that you’ll get past this. You’re going to be amazing.”

His eyes are very blue. Damen swallows. “That was…”

Laurent drops his hand and his expression goes back to apathy. “Insincere,” he finishes for him. He goes back to the closet and pulls out a knit blue sweater. “Where’d you get this?”

It’s well worn, the collar loose from time and the sleeves hanging long. “My mother gave it to me years ago,” Damen says. He frowns. “It’s not suitable for the event.”

Laurent shrugs. Then he starts unbuttoning his own shirt.

“Oh,” Damen says, and then he, absurdly, turns away like he’s a shy thirteen year old again. “What are you doing?”

“I need a costume,” Laurent says.

“As a vagabond?”

“No,” Laurent replies, and Damen turns around because suddenly he’s speaking in a thick, French accent. “I am your young and passionate french lover and you’re the happiest you’ve ever been.”

Laurent is in tight black skinny jeans and Damen’s oversized sweater. It’s large enough on him to bare the sharp lines of his collarbones and make it obvious that he’s not wearing a shirt underneath. He looks like he belongs on the cover of a fashion magazine. Damen’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Laurent asks.

“Yes,” Damen says.

“Oh,” Laurent looks surprised. “I assumed you weren’t a fan of public displays of affection. You and your ex look more like friends in all your pictures.”

“What?” Damen says. Then, oh. Laurent was asking if he could kiss Damen in front of his family. For the act. The acting thing. Not real kissing, in Damen’s bedroom, with Laurent wearing Damen’s clothes. “No, I mean, it’s okay. I’m meant to be cool and relaxed now right?”

Damen’s a firm believer of keeping behaviour like that in the bedroom. It’s not that he’s a prude, he just likes to think of his love as something intimate, something to be kept away from prying eyes.

Laurent gives Damen a look that lets him know that he did not pull off that excuse at all. “Do you have netflix?” Laurent asks, heading back out into the lounge room. “Let’s watch something.”

“We should leave soon,” Damen replies. As much as he’d like to Netflix and chill with Laurent, they do have a plan.

“We’re going to be late,” Laurent tells him. “We were so busy fucking all afternoon that we lost track of time. I didn’t even have a chance to go home and put on something appropriate.”

If only, Damen thinks. He sits down on the couch with Laurent and they put something mindless on while Damen pretends he’s not ridiculously attracted to the unpaid actor sitting next to him.

“Your French accent is good,” Damen says, when he finally thinks of something neutral to say.

“My mother is from Grenoble,” Laurent tells him. He hasn’t dropped out of the accent at all since he started speaking with it. “It’s convenient that you’re into France and not somewhere else. My Russian accent is a little heavy-handed.”

“How many people have you done this with?”

Laurent smiles. “Only one. Last week it was this guy who knew his family was going to be judgemental about the whole gay thing. He introduced me as his boyfriend and I took the brunt of it. I was the most awful date anyone could ask for.”

“Doesn’t being awful kind of make it worse for the guy?”

“No,” Laurent says. “Because when he introduces them to his actual boyfriend, everyone is going to be relieved that at least I’m gone.”

“Ah,” Damen nods.

“Am I going to have to deal with another coming out tonight?”

Damen can’t help it, he laughs at that. “No,” he says. “I have two mothers and a father. They were very accepting of the bisexual thing.”

“Hmm.” Laurent gives him a considering look.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “We might as well go soon.”

[asterlingfox]

01/BASICS

Full Name: Sterling Atsila Walsh Nickname: None he’s agreed to, but in true sports team fashion, various people have called him: Ster, Ster-fry, Ster-Ster, Sterber baby, Silver, and Hi-Ho Silver  Birthday: November 3rd, 1996 Gender: Cisgender male Sexual Orientation: He’s demisexual and pansexual, but he doesn’t know either of those terms - what he does know if that he’s never really enjoyed kissing any of the people he has at parties and clubs because it’s always felt empty, somehow incomplete and underwhelming in a way that doesn’t live up to what it’s supposed to be like in his head or what it’s cracked up to be in the movies. He also knows that he is deeply and resoundingly attracted to people being good at what they do - no surprise that that usually means athletes who are good at their respective sports.  Astrological Sign: Scorpio Spoken Languages: English, a few words and phrases of Cherokee Birthplace: Holladay, Utah Relationship status: Single as ever (read: very)

02/PHYSICAL TRAITS

Hair Color/Style: Black, various degrees of waves/curls depending on how damp his hair is, how humid it is, how much he’s raked his hands through it, etc. He wears it longer on the top than the sides, usually pushed back, though without product it tends to flop down into his eyes and make him look younger than he is. Eye Color: Brown Face Claim: Charles Melton  Height: 6′1″  Tattoos: None, though it is on his bucket list  Piercings: None, though during his ‘I hate you because you made me live in a cult and now everyone makes fun of me, mom’ rebellion phase in high school he wanted to get snakebites; he will take this fact to his grave.  Unique Attributes: Freckles and moles on his face, shoulders, and back. He has a scar on his chin from where the butt of a gun kicked into it when he was a kid; he’s got a lot of calluses and scars on his fingers and hands, mostly from hard labor when he was a kid, but the ones on his knuckles are from punching. He has a few scars on his face from fights. 

03/PERSONALITY TRAITS/TYPES

Positive Traits:  Determined, hardworking, observant, self-disciplined, loyal, thorough, organized Negative Traits:  Standoffish, critical, miserly, blunt, conceited, apathetic, callous, controlling Hobbies/Interests: Exy, fitness and running (though the latter is strictly for exy-related purposes), slowly getting a cinematic and musical education to catch up on everything he missed as a kid and teen, his motorcycle, and getting high enough to pretend he’s not as constantly lonely and afraid of the future as he actually is.  Insecurities: Physically? Nada. As for his genuine thoughts and fears about himself, part of the conceit that’s strictly an act; he’s concerned that exy is the only thing he has to contribute to the team, that his connection to the other Foxes and his entire identity with this group of people is surface level. He was told over and over again that he cannot survive without other people, so he holds a very real, very deep concern that the Foxes will ultimately and entirely reject him, leaving him in the cold.  Quirks/Eccentricities: Rakes his hands through his hair a lot - when he’s thinking, stressed, angry, overwhelmed - and isn’t necessarily aware of it. Can make a makeshift something out of nearly anything, can assess the usefulness of certain items for survival purposes at a glance, is uncannily good at eyeballing weights and quantities.  MBTI Type: ESTJ-T Enneagram Type: Type 8 - The Challenger Moral Alignment: Varies between Lawful/Chaotic Neutral and Lawful/Chaotic Good  Temperament: Choleric

04/FAMILY & HOME

Immediate Family: Mother (Adsila), aunt (Tsula), and uncle (Jonathon). His father was out of the picture before he was even born, effectively charring the possibility of being interested in his Korean ancestry. How do they feel about their family?: Sterling’s relationship with his mother is complicated (whose isn’t?). He’s completed devoted to her and her well-being - he’s planning on moving her out out her sister’s home, ensuring that she’s well taken care of financially, physically, emotionally, once he’s playing professionally, a goal that is as much for her as it is for himself - while also resenting her not only for depriving him of a normal childhood, but for her weakness in the aftermath of the raid at the commune and the cult being shut down. It terrifies him that he can’t do anything to save her from the despair and listlessness of her depression, and it makes him unspeakably angry to be this helpless, that this wasn’t something they could have prepared for the way they prepared for everything else.  He feels an obligation to keep in touch with her, but talking with her (or trying to, mostly having to carry the conversation himself) is a painful reminder of both his past and the responsibilities of his future. He’s never been close with his aunt and uncle, and their interactions have always been stilted; he doesn’t harbor any particular affection for them - if anything, he wants as much distance from them as possible so he won’t have to feel the pity and the confusion and the hurt in their gazes.  How does their family feel about them?: Adsila loves Sterling, but that love has always been secondary to something else - whether it was eclipsed by her passion for art, or swept up and colored by her beliefs about the pending apocalypse, or muted and hidden by the severity of her nearly catatonic depression. It hurts to talk to him, hear the reminder of her failure, and it hurts even more to see him, see the anger he wears like a letterman jacket, see the way his resentment is too big to fit in the small basement they’re supposed to share. Tsula and Jonathon try their best to be empathetic, to tell themselves in whispers in bed at night sometime around Christmas that He’s only like this because of what she put him through, Jon, and I know, ‘Sula, but does he have to talk to us like that? Would it kill him to be a little more grateful?  Pets: As far as he can remember, they didn’t have any pets before they left for the commune, and he was told the commune didn’t have the resources to spare to support animals. One of the younger members of the commune brought a cat back from a trip to town with her in secret and showed it to the kids there, and Sterling got really attached to it, feeding it and giving it water despite his mother’s warning and gentle reprimands. One of the more ...intense members of the commune ultimately found the cat, killed it, and put it on display in one of the communal areas as a warning.  Where do they live?: His aunt and uncle’s home in a suburb of Pleasant View, Utah, though he spends as little time there as possible during the summers and breaks.  Description of their home: Small, desert suburbia extraordinaire. Neat and homey, with a lot of tan/neutral decorations with accents of sunset colors and kitschy knick knacks. Too clean, too quiet, and stifling. He and his mother live in the basement of the house, and in all fairness, his aunt and uncle did the best they could with what they had, but the basement is still not well-lit, and his mother mostly keeps it dark and undecorated, even after living there for nearly a decade. Bare essentials, mismatched and secondhand, with a partial wall sectioning off his mother’s sleeping area; Sterling sleeps on the futon, though most of the time he doesn’t bother to convert it out into the full bed. The space never felt big enough, even when he was a kid, so the feeling of having outgrown it is stifling. He sleeps in the armchair, the hammock in the backyard, or sometimes on the roof during the summer and fall.  Description of their bedroom: His part of the room in the Tower is sparse when it comes to decorations - he has a poster of the US Exy Court over his desk in an attempt to keep himself focused. There’s always a pair of headphones on his bed or tangled on his desk or snaking out of his backpack. He keeps four small cacti on the windowsill next to his desk, compliments of his mother at the beginning of each school year. There’s a nondescript emergency kit compiled in a duffel bag shoved under his bed. He keeps things neat and organized so he can find them at a moment’s notice. He used to make his bed every day, but he’s gotten more lax about it this year. 

05/THIS OR THAT

Introvert or Extrovert? Extrovert Optimist or Pessimist? Depends on the situation! When it comes to things being in other people’s hands, he’s a pessimist and doesn’t put much faith in anyone else. When it comes to his own ability to succeed, he’s mostly an optimist; by this point, he’s fairly confident in his ability to survive if anything apocalyptic ever happens, compliments of the kit in his room and the storage unit a couple miles off campus, but that’s always cut with an undercurrent of worry that he’s not actually as capable as he thinks he is if other people aren’t prepared, too.  Leader or Follower? Leader, though not a very good one Confident or Self-Conscious? Overly Confident  Cautious or Careless? Careless Passionate or Apathetic? Both? He’s super passionate about exy, about his team, and cares a lot about his motorcycle, but he’s only able to apply that same passion to people or life in general when he’s drunk and reckless. His apathy for other people’s beliefs and feelings is ultimately a misplaced attempt to push other people away before they can do the same to him.  Book Smarts or Street Smarts? Street smarts, though that’s not necessarily the word I would choose - more of survival smarts that would be appropriate for living in a desert or, shockingly, an apocalyptic wasteland.  Compliments or Insults? Hahahahaha

06/FAVORITES

Favorite Color: Burnt orange  Favorite Clothing Style/Outfit: Athleisure aesthetique all goddamn day. He lives in that Adidas/Nike aesthetic, and can typically be found in at least one brand name article of clothing at any given time. Has extensive snapback and hightop shoe collections, both of which he keeps very, very clean. Doesn’t wear any rings, but will occasionally wear beaded bracelets. So many pairs of black or grey joggers. So many hoodies. Only one leather jacket, currently.  Favorite Bands/Songs/Type of Music: He tends towards rap and hip hop, though he’s gotten more adventurous and headed into some alt and indie rock; he mostly steals music from other people’s tastes, though, to try them out and figure out whether he actually likes them himself.  Favorite Movies: Mad Max: Fury Road; Independence Day; Lion King; Iron Man  Favorite Books: He doesn’t have any.  Favorite Foods/Drinks: Pizza.  Favorite Sports/Sports Teams: Exy, always; always Exy. He’s been known to watch baseball and basketball in the off-season, though, even if he complains his way through it the whole time.  Favorite Time of Day: Sunset  Favorite Weather/Season: Snowy / Winter  Favorite Animal: Honest answer is the wrens that make their homes in cacti, but if anyone asks, he just scoffs and says fox. 

[peaky-yamyam]

Neighbours: Part Twenty-Three

The Letter

Part One | Part Twenty-Two | Part Twenty-Three |

So this is the final part to this series. I really wished I’d have worked harder to get it completed before series four started and the whole thing got ruined, but hey-ho, shit happens. I guess this is an AU now...

In the weeks that follow I spend much of my time at Tommy's house, he's had a guest room decorated for me to fulfill the facade of an appropriate relationship and although beautiful, I spend very little time in there. Eventually weeks turn into months and although none of my things have been moved over officially, it becomes common knowledge that I’m only reachable at Tommy's house. Tommy has allowed me to move my own horses to his stables and I find myself filling my days as I normally would; training, breeding and selling horses. Only now I'm joined frequently by Charlie, whose interest in horses has grown exponentially, fuelled I suspect, by the ease in which he can now see Toby.

There’s one horse however that is still refuses to be broken; the horse that started this all. I’m stood outside her stable when Tommy approaches me from behind, weaving an arm around my waist.

“You see this Tommy, you see the look she’s giving me?” I say, unfolding my arms so I can point between her eyes. “Evil.”

Tommy exhales a chuckle and releases my waist so he can run his hand down the mare's nose. Perhaps it’s just my imagination, but her eyes seem to soften and she leans towards his touch.

“See? It’s just you she doesn’t like,” Tommy comments, popping his cigarette into the corner of his mouth so his other hand can join the first, both of them caressing either side of her face.

“No, it’s just you that she does like.”

“She’s stubborn.”

I take a step towards them and move as if I’m about to stroke her, her violent head turn and darkening of her eyes proving my point.

“You’re not getting rid of her,” Tommy says, his magic hands calming her again. “I've grown quite fond of her. Much like another stubborn mare who comes to mind.”

I swat his arm playfully but he catches my hand, spins me to face him and drops his cigarette to the ground. His eyes are intense as they hold mine but there's a slight crease at the corners as if he's holding back a smile.

“Georgiana, I love you,” he states.

It takes a second for me to realise what he's said, the past few weeks of contemplating that word have left me numb to it. But eventually my senses return. I will never be Grace, I will never fill the hole she left in Tommy's heart. But in the same way that Tommy will never replace Alfred, it feels less and less like it matters everyday. I can love Tommy without it belittling the love I felt for Alfred or erasing the time we spent together. And it appears Tommy has drawn the same silent conclusion. Regardless, he loves me, and I him, and just like that the world seems a lot less complicated.

A nervous twitch of Tommy's hand over mine draws my mind back to the moment and I realise I've left his declaration hanging in silence. His brows are furrowed but he doesn't move an inch, his need to appear composed dictating his reaction, but I can tell he's nervous.

I launch myself towards him, crashing my lips against his and throwing my arms around his neck.

“I love you too,” I say breaking the kiss just enough to speak the words clearly. “I have done for a while, it's just-”

Tommy cuts me off with another kiss, his hands on my back pulling me closer to him.

“I know,” he says, and that's the matter put to bed.

We head back to the house hand-in-hand, a weight I hadn’t realised I’d been carrying for the past few months, suddenly relieved and we’re greeted by the butler, who stands rigid with a tray outstretched, on which sits a letter.

“Mr Shelby, this arrived for you a few minutes ago. The gentleman who delivered it said it was of utmost importance,” he says.

Tommy snatches the letter away and I get a full glance of the extravagant envelope and wax seal. A wax seal I recognise. Suddenly the butlers apprehension makes sense; we all know what this letter will be. I don’t wait for Tommy to invite me into his office as I follow behind him, either he doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care as he storms towards his desk and throws himself down, tearing open the envelope with his letter opener. I sit tentatively opposite him, watching his face as he reads the letter in the hopes I can decipher exactly what kind of job Tommy is being asked to do now.

An age seems to pass between us, the air turning stagnant in the silence as he reads the letter a second and third time. But when he finally reaches the end of the page, he places it on the desk in front of me and reclines in his seat, steady fingers lighting a cigarette.

It takes a second before I can tear my eyes from him to read it but when I finally build up the courage, I have to do a double and triple take myself to ensure I’ve read it correctly.

“They want to give you a Knighthood?” I ask, as if Tommy can explain anything more to me.

“Seems so, I assume you had something to do with it?” His eyes are bright and his lips curl playfully around his cigarette; there’s no annoyance in his words. Perhaps simply due to relief.

“I mean… I suppose I must have. But it was just simple passing comment I made in anger, it wasn’t as if I suggested they Knight you for being the King's personal assassin…”

He sucks in a deep drag of his cigarette at the word and I berate myself for the poor choice, but he relaxes quickly and holds his hand out for the letter, reading it over once more.

“Sir Thomas Shelby, The King’s Personal Assassin,” he declares, the broad smile that’s so seldom seen stretching beautifully across his face. He drops the letter back on the desk and I sit myself across his lap. “Seems I can’t get away from that can I?”

“Will you accept it?” I ask, weaving my fingers through his hair as he ponders his answer.

“I don’t know.”

“There’s be no going back then. You’d be one of us. A toff,” I joke. “Gosh you’ll have to lose your accent, swap your cap for a top hat-“

He cuts my playful ramblings off with a messy kiss to my neck which tickles goosebumps across my whole body.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, his lips continuing across my skin.

“I’m not joking, we’ll have to get you a chauffeur and a valet to dress you. Only the best for Sir Thomas.”

“Right,” he says, scooping me from his lap and depositing me on the corner of his desk. “Less of that.”

As my laughter dies down I notice that Tommy has turned serious; the playful smile now replaced with hard eyes and a tight lipped mouth.

“Tommy, I was only play-“

“Marry me.”

If I hadn’t have seen his mouth move I wouldn’t have believed my ears. Even watching the words leave his mouth has me scarcely believing he’s said them.

“Wh- I - What?”

“Marry me… before I make any decision.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I love you, in a way I never thought I could again, and I need you to decide, without knowing if I’ll ever be anything other than a gangster from Small Heath whose life is always going to be full of deceit and danger, I need you to decide whether or not you’ll marry me?”

I take his hands in mine, as he has so many times with me and meet his eyes with a look as equally calm and composed as his.

“Tommy, that doesn’t matter to me, the titles, the houses, the bullshit politics of it all, I don’t care if you’re crowned fucking King of England or if we have to live in a one bedroom flat in the middle of the city - so long as it’s with you… and my horses I suppose… I love you and I love Charlie. So, yes. Of course I’ll marry you.”

It’s hardly even a decision to make, as soon as the answer leaves my mouth I know that I’ve never spoken truer words in my life.

Tommy pulls me back into his lap and his lips are on mine instantly, hungry and loving and thankful all in one. A testament that life goes on, heartbreak heals and even those lost to the bleak midwinter can be found and emerge, albeit changed forever.

Tommy pulls back and presses his forehead to mine, savouring the quiet and calm I doubt will be a feature in our life for very long. He reaches behind me and takes the letter again, holding it between us as he reads it another time.

When he reaches the end he glances up at me. “It does have a certain ring to it doesn’t it? Sir Thomas Shelby…”

[lastsonlost]

WARNING: This post contains spoilers and discusses characters in Marvel’s “Black Panther.” I will feed you a nice Ghanaian jollof meal if you read further anyway.

Finally! “Black Panther” weekend has hit the United States. Marvel’s newest superhero film was one of the most anticipated movies in 2018, and already it is poised to shatter box-office records (the film is expected to rake in about $250 million this weekend) and Hollywood stereotypes about black movies not being marketable. Black audiences in the United States are planning special outfits and parties and raising funds to take children to see the film. But how do Africans feel about this fictional tale of Wakanda, especially when black people in the United States and Africa don’t always seem to understand one another? I decided to talk to Kenyan journalist and broadcaster Larry Madowo to get his thoughts on the film, Wakanda and… those accents. Enjoy! — Karen

Karen Attiah: Okay, so I know we are basically going to be talking about Wakanda, this fictional African country in “Black Panther.” I finally saw it on Tuesday, and I still feel like African Americans and Africans have still been speaking in silos about the movie, and not to one another.

So as a Kenyan, what did you think about the movie? How did you feel about Wakanda?

Larry Madowo: So Wakanda looks like a place I want to be a citizen of, because it looks like such a beautiful, egalitarian society, where the women wear their hair natural and they are powerful warriors. It is beautiful in that sense, as a utopia of sorts. Considering the mess so many African countries are in, it’s an escape to see what we can be: the richest country in the world, everything, vibranium in excess. And if you just think, if you build a model for the perfect African country, Wakanda is that.

Karen: With everything that Kenya is going through right now politically, with the messiness over elections, what did you take away from Wakanda?

Larry: It did make me think about Kenya because many of the problems that we have in Kenya — and in most African countries — are a byproduct of colonialism. … Wakanda was not colonized, so they had a chance to build a society that was free of European influence, whether British or French. We call ourselves Francophone Africa versus Anglophone Africa. We categorize ourselves based on who our oppressor was. I always find that a strange thing. Our identity is so deeply tied to our oppression.

Karen: What were the parts of the film that did bother you as a Kenyan? What did you think of the accents?

Larry: The accents are all over the place! It was jarring and annoying to me! They wanted to base the accents on Xhosa from South Africa, but some of it sounded Nigerian, others sounded more Ugandan. It was very confusing, and I understand perfecting an accent is difficult, but oh, my goodness, it was so messy! I really liked the costumes. They were great. But ultimately, Wakanda, at least in the film, is an approximation of African culture, an outsider’s version of what African culture might be like — the rituals, song and dance, the rites of passage.

Karen: Or even the ancestors thing.

Larry: As an African, I didn’t feel accurately represented in “Black Panther.” There was only one African artist whose song played in the background — her name is Babes Wodumo, she’s South African. I have nothing against Kendrick Lamar, but it would be good to be more representative of African music. It was a missed opportunity to shine a spotlight on African musicians on a huge platform. It would have enriched the story.

Karen: For me, it was visually exciting. It was like, “Try to find your culture somewhere!” It was like I was in African history class. I could hear the Nigerian accent. As a Ghanaian, I was like, “There’s kente cloth,” or, “Look, Shuri is wearing aggrey beads!”

Larry: It was like African bingo of sorts!

Karen: I was excited because I’m not used to seeing African elements on the big screen. Even African Americans here do not know that history or those cultural elements. I can see both sides, as someone who has to explain to white people and African Americans about the beauty of African culture and history. So in a way, “Black Panther” is a one-stop shop, get it all in an hour!

Larry: You know the worst thing? THERE HASN’T BEEN AN AFRICAN PREMIERE for “Black Panther.”

Karen: Wait, but wasn’t there a screening in Kenya, in Lupita Nyong’o’s home town?

Larry: That was arranged by a local movie distribution company and Lupita’s dad, who is the governor of Kisumu. But there has been no African premiere where the cast and crew came to an African city like Nairobi or Kampala, Johannesburg or Lagos — like they have done for South Korea, like they did in London or like in L.A. So this film that celebrates blackness has not had an African premiere!

Karen: But maybe that could be in the works? Lagos, Johannesburg and Accra? These cities represent the growth that Africa is experiencing, the modernity of Africa, which is represented in “Black Panther.”

Larry: I could see why they might not have an African premiere. There are less movie theaters in all of Africa than in just in the U.S., so you might not make that much in the grand scheme of things. But it would have been a huge symbolic thing for a movie that unashamedly elevates blackness. I have friends who are going in full Masai wear to the theaters! They feel represented, and yet, the promotion efforts kind of snubbed them.

Karen: So on tribalism and politics: When Killmonger ascends the throne and you realize that this man is an existential threat to Wakanda, you realize the other tribes don’t see things the same way. For me, when I went to Ghana for the elections in 2008, I was struck by how much tribalism played into politics, that the Ashantis were tied to one party, other tribes to other parties, etc.

Larry: Even today, African political parties have tribal vehicles. They will have a tribal chief who will have the power to determine elections. It is very rare across the continent to find a party that is national in nature. A lot of the conflicts across Africa are tribal. Look at Somalia, which has not had a functional government — so much about the clans. Killmonger, King T’Challa and the Jabari Tribe and how they all want different things — that is what goes on in Africa.

Karen: What did you make of the white characters in the film, the Americans?

Larry: When I was in the theater in Nairobi, and the scene where Jabari did not allow [CIA operative Everett Ross] to speak, the audience clapped! Africans and other black people are tired of seeing white men in white-savior roles. This time, a white man was the sidekick. He was getting his instructions from a black woman, Shuri (Letitia Wright). The representation was satisfying. Let us see some black saviors for a change!

Karen: The role of America is interesting in “Black Panther.” Killmonger, who was trained in U.S. military tactics knows how to destabilize countries going through tricky political transitions or right after coups. In history, you think of Patrice Lumumba’s assassination, and Kwame Nkrumah’s fall in Ghana, which the CIA had a hand in. It’s interesting that in the movie, it was Ross, the CIA agent — converted — who came to see the light about Wakanda and becomes an ally in their fight.

Larry: It was appropriate. Yes, for all the Americans who are upset about Russia interfering in elections, I’m like, “Really, America? You’ve been meddling in African elections since the beginning of time! And you don’t hear us complaining. It’s payback time!” The American in the movie knew how to destabilize and just meddle, because that is what America does best.

Karen: A big part of this film is the relationship between Africans and African Americans, and it’s probably the most complicated relationship in the film.

Larry: It was very indicative of the current relationship between Africans and African Americans. There’s so much animus or competition that I have never quite understood. Both groups use derogatory names to refer to each other. In Africa, African American culture is very big and influential in terms of how people speak and dress. But in creating “Black Panther,” Africans and African Americans came together to create art that black people around the world are proud of. But in everyday life, there is no such unity. I think it’s a vision for what can be possible when the two groups work together.

Karen: In some twisted ways, I identified with Killmonger. Growing up, part of my exploration into where my parents came from, I felt a sort of anger towards Africa. Like, how did colonization happen to you? And the poverty? How are these leaders not doing more? And being black in America, when we are going through fights with racism, police brutality, we wonder if Africans even care. And I think, “Well, African nations can’t help us. They can’t impose sanctions on America for its treatment of black people.” Which is why Wakanda is so amazing: It has the power to help other countries.

Larry: When it comes to African solutions … African countries gave aid to Haiti during the hurricane, Rwanda is taking in unwanted African migrants from Israel. But yes, there is so much more we can do.

A lot of people here supported Black Lives Matter and don’t think police should be shooting black people in the U.S., but they are perfectly okay with the Kenyan or Zimbabwean police cracking down on protesters violently. You speak out against an injustice half a world away, but when there’s injustice right on your doorstep, you’re okay with it because of the party or politician you endorse.

Karen: At the end, when Killmonger is dying, he says wants to be buried in the water with his ancestors, who would rather jump off slave ships than be in bondage. It seems then he personally identifies with slaves as his ancestors and not the ancestors of Wakanda. That’s how deep the divisions are [between Africans and African Americans].

Larry: It reminded me of Kunta Kinte from “Roots,” who was a warrior that was taken away. There are people who say of slavery, “I would have not allowed myself to be taken.” I see what he was trying to do there — my ancestors were brave. It is a sort of misplaced bravado.

Karen: And gender in the film? How women are depicted?

Larry: Africa is a deeply patriarchal society. In this film, women are equal to the men. They protect the king! They have a mind of their own. Nakia (Lupita Nyong’o) doesn’t want to just get married and be a trophy wife.  All the women wear natural hair. In the continent, where weaves and wigs are big business, it’s a legacy of colonialism that kinky hair is not seen as professional.It’s not what you get married in or wear to the office.

Karen: Ah, so you are #TeamNatural! And the power of the women doesn’t diminish King T’Challa (Chadwick Boseman). Africa has had societies in which women played more equal roles before the British came with their Victorian ideas about gender divisions. It made me think that Wakanda’s strength is how it capitalizes on the strengths of both men and women. In this #MeToo moment, part of the tragedy of sexism is that it denies women opportunities to be participants in society. Conversely to how women are treated in Wakanda, Killmonger, he’s this hypermasculine, destructive force. He kills his girlfriend who helps him on his mission.

Larry: I think he’s the personification of toxic masculinity that is so prevalent in black culture.

Karen: I think there’s a very American flavor to his type of anger, but I think of this especially in the wake of the Florida shooting yesterday, in which a teenager walked into a school and killed 17 people. He abused his ex-girlfriend and stalked another girl, before unleashing his anger and violence on others. But yes, I know sometimes that even Africans have an stereotype that black Americans are gangsters and violent.

Larry: Maybe that’s the one overriding stereotype about African Americans here that’s reinforced by hip-hop and quite a few movies. When Africans say, “I’m gangsta,” they’re always referring to the African American caricature.

Karen: Well, thanks so much. Here in the U.S., we’ve gone through a year of Donald Trump. We’ve seen overt anti-black racism. We’ve seen KKK marching in the streets, the attempts to keep out and/or deport black and brown immigrants. The filmmakers could not have predicted that this would be the political moment we would be in; it has come at a moment where we’ve needed something empowering.

Larry: After the kind of year you all have had in America, no one should take this moment away from you. No one should try to diminish it. From those of us from the outside looking in, finally we have a beautiful celebration of blackness. You all absolutely deserve it

SOURCE

TAKE OF THAT WHAT YOU WILL.....

[bigbridalgownsukonlineoiyg]

on the night of the dance, you will see the ladies lined up with slit dresses homecoming dresses）（）y7tgh*

The long-standing complaint about dances (usually attended by parents and teachers) is that the event seems to have become an excuse for people to dress up and tease as much as possible. Usually, on the night of the dance, you will see the ladies lined up with slit dresses homecoming dresses, bare midriffs, and low-cut tops, which are just close to the navel and show as much skin as possible so that people can get away without restraint. If you feel comfortable wearing dresses in this way, that’s good, but what about the girls who don’t wear them?LaLaMira provides many dedicated dresses for world consumers, our purchaser’s are from the U.S.A., Canada, Europe, and Australia, etc. over one hundred countries worldwide. Read More

Posted in Wedding DressTagged cranberry lace bridesmaid dresses, evening gowns with sleeves, new evening dresses, plus evening gowns, scalloped akhdspoj-khs1js edge veil, short party dresses australia, turquoise and black flower girl dresses,Once you have a good understanding of your body shape, you can wear the appropriate dress and look like a superstar at your prom. Today we take a look at some of the most common body types there. This includes what suits them, what you should avoid, and how to make the best choice for your special occasion.If you go with something overly complicated, you will easily get overwhelmed and it may look like the dress is wearing you. Stay away from loads of stiff fabrics and tons of beading. In addition to the wedding dress, Hailey also showed off the couple’s jewelry. On Hailey’s right ring finger, there is a ring with a ring set with diamonds, from Tiffany’s Soleste collection, for $ 3,125 (about RMB 2.2 million), and on her left hand, an engagement ring with a small diamond-encrusted V-ring, for $ 2 baptism outfit for mom winter,150 (about RMB 15,000). Bieber’s wedding ring is relatively simple, Tiffany’s 18k gold ring, the price is 950 dollars (about 6790RMB). But his watch is more expensive, Audemars Piguet worth $ 50,000 (about $ 360,000).If you are nervous about talking with an unfamiliar person, online prom is the best choice to relax. At this time, you can feel free and comfortable and you need not cater to others. Feminine and classic, the lace black dress is a perfect piece to wear to any event. Opulent and daring, these delicate designs can amplify your night out. Whether you wear it as a small detail or you go all-out and wear head-to-toe lace, you’re sure to make a statement, no matter where you’re going. Keep things simple in terms of accessories: pearls and neutrals look best when paired with the delicate fabric macys homecoming dresses. For an edgy twist on the classic piece emerald green prom dress, wear a leather moto jacket, and you’ll have the perfect blend of pretty and punk.I will first share with you some tips to tell you what works for petite women and what you should look for, then I will list the recommendations of petite size bridal mother dresses. Related recommendations: inspires a perceive of vintage romance with a speck of naivety prom dresses 2020 trendsPOIuyd without travel the danger of your prettify state trampled on red two piece prom dress()*7yghd extremely positive tangency dresses wormy to bleak tie events elegant evening gowns with sleevesO(I*7yhd set in a romanticist updo as it allows the accents to emit simple beach wedding dressesP(*Y&thd

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5 Laws Anyone Working In Mirrored Chest Of Drawers Interiors Invogue Should Know

15 Style Features Of A Dream Kitchen area

All developers and house owners have their suggestions about what makes a great kitchen, yet throughout my years in the design globe, I've concerned count on several best approaches for developing an effective, functional, gorgeous room. The enhancement of any among these things would dramatically raise the charm of an area. Combine them all, as well as you would certainly have one incredible desire kitchen.

1. Appropriate lighting. Integrating different sorts of lighting in any area is fundamental, yet it's specifically useful in the cooking area. A wealth of all-natural light is amazing, yet kitchens likewise need practical resources of fabricated light: ambient illumination to create a total radiance, job illumination to brighten offices and also accent lighting to highlight functions in the area.

Brightening on a budget: Not prepared for an illumination overhaul? Beginning by replacing your old bulbs with LEDs-- they last much longer, are extra energy effective and also are available in amazing, cozy as well as neutral colour temperatures. Undermounted LED rope lighting, or puck lights are additionally budget-friendly choices for enlightening areas where cupboards cast darkness.

2. Abundant seating. Among the biggest requests I hear as an interior designer is a requirement for more guest seating. Individuals have a tendency to gather in cooking areas, so see to it there is ample space for close friends to collect in areas that will not disrupt the performance of your prep space.

Round tables are a wonderful way to give less complicated website traffic circulation and also can usually seat 4 to 6 individuals. Drop-leaf or extendable tables give you flexibility. They can be pushed versus the wall out of the way when not being used or gotten used to produce extra seating for enjoyable visitors. This is a great solution for a house that does not have an official dining-room.

3. Area. A big island with great deals of counter room as well as seating offers space for collaboration. Routine tasks such as paying costs, sorting through mail, doing homework or whipping up dinner can be implemented without initial needing to move things around to make area. Having this clear surface area also has a mental impact that makes the residence appear clean even if other areas of the residence are haphazard or covered with stacks of things.

No space for an island? Right here are a couple of space-saving pointers:

When every square inch counts, don't compromise area for the small stuff. Mount your paper towel owner to obtain it up as well as off the beaten track. Rather than making use of a knife block, shop cutlery on the wall surface utilizing a magnetic strip. Discover a reducing board that fits over your sink or cooktop to make sure that beneficial counter room does not go to waste.

Fold-down workstation surfaces are the Murphy bed of the cooking area. They offer you added area when you require it and also are out of the method when you don't. They're also fairly low-cost and easy to mount.

Or aim to our next essential cooking area device: the movable workstation.

4. Movable workstation. An island on wheels, and even a bar cart, is terrific for cooking and enjoyable. It offers more storage space and a flexible area for prepping and serving.

What to look for: Stainless steel is wonderful due to the fact that it's durable and also very easy to clean, or go with the a lot more cost effective option, butcher block, for a different appearance and also really feels. When it involves size, ensure you have about 36 inches in between the edge of the island and also bordering countertops so as not to hamper traffic flow. Relying on your preference, you can go with counter elevation or bar elevation. Take note of what's most comfy prior to you go out shopping.

5. Organised cabinets. Split as well as dominate! Conserve your time as well as sanity by maintaining points neat and simple to locate. Inserts and also dividers add structure to drawers where loosened products have a tendency to accumulate. Having actually designated areas for all probabilities and also ends will certainly assist you avoid overflow.

When buying organisers, keep in mind very first to measure your drawers. Avoid affordable plastic choices that warp in time, as well as rather, look for something equally as sturdy as the kitchen cabinetry.

Tool storage space is essential. It's far better (and cleaner) to nicely put away devices than to have an arrangement of spatulas sitting out on the counter.

Superficial flavor storage allows you to quickly see what you have as opposed to messing up with a congested cluster of containers. Perk points if you move your seasonings from their initial product packaging right into matching containers.

Pile cooking sheets and also cutting boards up and down in deep drawers (if you have them) or narrow cabinets for easier accessibility. Divider panels will keep them upright. Do not fail to remember to specify different cutting boards for produce, meats and also bread.

Organisation for food storage space containers always appears to be an afterthought (as well as one of the messiest parts of many kitchen areas). The amount of times have you gotten to for an item of Tupperware just to locate its equivalent lid has vanished? Closets consume loose covers, so maintain them with each other. We choose glass storage for food as it is microwaveable and stays in good condition longer.

6. Pot as well as frying pan (and cover) organisation. If you can order a pot or frying pan as well as its lid without shuffling the remainder of your cookware around, you're gold. Hanging them from hooks is a great method to achieve this accomplishment and make effective use of upright room.

7. Pullout corner storage. Smart cupboard organisers supply easier ease of access and aid increase the otherwise dead space where your Tupperware covers are probably concealing.

You can discover a multitude of products such as this online or through your neighborhood cabinetry firm, and also the majority of corner functions can be retrofitted to your existing kitchen cabinetry.

8. Devoted appliance storage space. Covert storage space for little home appliances liberates counter room for extra useful usages.

When developing your cooking area or renovation closets, consider adding a home appliance garage to keep your devices concealed. House owners also can transform an existing office by setting up pullout racks that use fast as well as very easy accessibility to devices when you require them. Whatever you do, designate a designated room for each device, so they don't wind up awkwardly stacked on top of the refrigerator or out on the counter.

9. Sturdy equipment. Protect your closets with hardware. In time, oil from hands can wear down the finish and also filthy up or damage the paint. Avoid unneeded wear as well as tear with sleek pulls or knobs that will certainly expand the life of your kitchen cabinetry. Try to find a strong metal or something durable with significant weight. It will certainly benefit you-- as well as your closets-- in the lengthy run.

10. Citrus. When life provides you lemons, put them to work. Whether you're adding a little enthusiasm to your dish, spraying up a rejuvenating drink, packing up on vitamin C or just cleaning up the kitchen area, citrus is an useful thing to carry hand (plus, it shows well as a wonderful splash of colour).

Lemons and also limes are fantastic for organic garbage disposal cleaning. Running the skins through water helps to cleanse the blades, as well as the oils freshen up the scent. You can also prepare your organic cleaning option with lemon, sodium bicarbonate and also vinegar-- avoid marble kitchen counters. The acid can create discoloration and also etching.

11. Hand Towels. Usage ornamental linen towels to lower waste by making use of fewer paper towels. Not just are cloth towels extra eco-friendly, yet they additionally conserve you loan and also include a little beauty to the cooking area.

Along with your beautiful tea towels as well as cloth napkins, you'll wish to maintain a pile of cleansing towels or microfiber fabrics accessible, so they're all set to grab when you require them. It will certainly be much less excruciating to pass up the benefit of paper towels if you're well-stocked for the following mess.

12. A clear catch-all space. Every day life makes it impossible to have an arranged residence 24/7. Documents, tricks, footwear, canteen, bags and various other various items tend to accumulate quickly in particular locations. Stay clear of surface mess by giving each of your things an assigned residence. Keys, mail, phone chargers and pens need to all have a devoted touchdown spot, whether it's a full-fledged, integrated command centre, the rear of a cabinet or ordered area inside a storage room.

13. Confined garbage as well as recycling. Garbage can take up floor room, can smell poor and give mayhem for family pets. Concealed storage is ideal, but if you do not have that choice, at the very least make certain your containers have lids. Keeping bins and bags together makes it easy to separate waste and recyclables.

Closets can be retrofitted to house custom-made pullout containers, however if you're looking for a simple remedy, inspect out favorite merchants like The Container Store or Ikea for a range of bins that will work to fit your existing space.

14. Coffee terminal. Life is just a little less complicated when you have whatever you require in one spot. If you can find a means to construct it in or enclose it, also much better. While a full-on coffee bar isn't always practical, having all your cafe accoutrements-- coffee manufacturer, grinder, beans or premises, filters, cups, sugar-- in one devoted location will certainly streamline your early morning regimen.

15. Character. Whether it's fun, colourful accessories or a stunning item of art work, a cooking area ought to have an inviting atmosphere that enables convenience, relaxation and great times.

Play up your house's fascinating architectural details. If you have attractive old glass-front cupboards, show off some vibrant bowls or maybe some vintage glasses. Indulge in little accents, such as quirky doorknobs or vintage drape tiebacks. These tiny information include fun, unforeseen style and also individuality.

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12 Helpful Tips For Doing Concrete Paint Decorative Flakes

You will find there's variation in the way in which the two are utilized and also the impact which can be obtained with Every single, however the end result is identical, a shocking element wall or maybe a wall part that would be the centre of attention with the space.

A clean is surely an accent colour which lays in the recesses of the look floor. Washes can be created employing either iron oxide powder combined with Portland cement, or with concrete paints; both of these diverse mediums will deliver two different completed appears. The treatments for generating both equally washes are as follows:

You most likely gained’t need to have huge quantities of paint for the washes, so use Patio Paints, discovered on our Web site or at most significant craft retailers. To make a paint wash, squeeze a pair tablespoonfuls of paint right into a plastic container and blend with more than enough h2o to make a clean-flowing emulsion.

Observing is believing and only by touching can you are aware of the feel. We realise that decisions can not be produced based only on pictures and text by itself. Clients want in order to see and experience what the raw concrete complete seems and looks like. Give us a contact or deliver an electronic mail and we will probably be happy to visit you and explain to you samples of the assorted looks and textures that can be realized using this complete.

My principal suggestion is region rugs. It is possible to opt for unique sizes for different zones – and even layer them.

Colored concrete paint is effective at absolutely reworking a cement floor. Whether or not you’re seeking to renovate your kitchen or your outdoor patio, there are plenty of inexpensive methods to reinvigorate your concrete slab.

It is a specialized wall finish that provides a raw industrial, unfinished concrete glimpse to any new or present wall. It might be utilized on all sorts of surfaces. The Concrete Outcome range involves:

DRYLOK® Etch will likely effectively put together the concrete’s profile to simply accept the coating. Appropriately geared up concrete really should feel and appear like medium grit sandpaper. When the concrete continues to be easy, repeat the etching technique. You are able to check the concrete porosity by sprinkling a number of drops of drinking water onto the surface in various areas. If your drinking water is instantly absorbed, you are ready to use the coating. If it beads or sits on the surface area, supplemental cleaning and etching is necessary. Rinse thoroughly with cleanse h2o and allow the surface area to dry for twenty-four hrs.

By making use of engraving, you can deliver elaborate patterns, for instance pavers or brick at a fraction of the expense of the particular content.

I have already been peeling many of it up. How do I get ride of the many adhesive which was left by those adhere on wood items? I was planning to paint it and after that do a some form of stencil pattern about it. Do you think my notion is doable? Thanks much!

Get rid of contaminated absorbent, container and unused contents in accordance with regional, point out and federal rules.

Moreover, concrete paving stones Possess a compression strength in surplus of 7500 psi, offering greater toughness and prolonged merchandise existence. Even in major industrial utilizes they withstand remarkable stage loading without complications. Concrete paving stones will also be very dense, Hence the absorption stage is usually a lot less than five% - much decreased than asphalt and poured-in-spot concrete.

Whether you are arranging a typical try to find your home or Business office, or you are interested in the economic rough unfinished hunt for your institution, our concrete result will entire your vision with its authentic Uncooked concrete like end, presenting you having a fantastically textured wall where you can unleash your Artistic genius.

No black to the doorway! You will need a pop of colour that can accent the wall, an intense blue green maybe. I made use of a colour termed Venezuelan Sea, can’t don't forget the manufacturer and it seems in exactly the same shade vary.

[sarahpaulsonusa-blog]

Junior Bridesmaid Dresses

Junior Bridesmaid Dresses. Little bridesmaids at weddings and weddings - it's a lovely sight, isn't it? There is nothing as sweet as a little girl with flowers surrounded by the bride. Such a role of a bridesmaid is a dream come true for every girl, so why not realize such a unique moment on the wedding day? Surely a small bridal print or a few prints will be a real decoration of your wedding day! If you would like to involve small bridesmaids during your wedding day, I will present some important details today. Thanks to them, a little girl will simply have the honour of becoming a bridesmaid and you will enjoy her presence at the wedding ceremony.

White and Flower Junior Bridesmaid Dresses What's the role of the junior bridesmaid? Since the bridesmaid is usually a small girl, her role in the wedding ceremony is not complicated. However, this does not make the bridesmaid a less important figure during the ceremony. Apart from the Bride, she is the one who will kidnap hearts, affectionate and steal a few smiles. The main role of the little bridesmaid is to pour petals from flowers before the bride, introducing her to the ceremony.

White and White Flower Junior Bridesmaid Dresses What's the best age for a bridesmaid? If you wonder what is the best age for a girl to play the role of a bridesmaid, the rule is that she should be between three and ten years old. If you have an older girl among your loved ones, ask her to be a younger bridesmaid and have more serious tasks to do than the traditional flower petals. What dress for a junior bridesmaid dresses? A girl who plays the role of a small bridesmaid usually wears a knee-length dress or a ball gown - something special and very festive, worth wearing at important celebrations. When it comes to the colours of print dresses, white or ivory, light pink or pale blue are the most popular. Although the bride has the final decision as to which dress she would like her bridesmaid to wear during the wedding ceremony, it is also worth communicating with the girl or her parents. When trying to define a bridesmaid's dress style, not only should you pay attention to your priorities, but also to whether the girl will feel comfortable with the outfit of your choice. Make sure your little girl feels as important as you do when you buy a dress. Encourage the girl to try different colours, styles and lengths of dresses to make your ideas as interesting as possible. When choosing the perfect outfit for a girl, remember also about the place and time of the year when the wedding ceremony will take place to match the junior bridesmaid's dresses to the right conditions.

Rose Junior Bridesmaid Dresses How to choose a girl for the role of a junior bridesmaid? Choosing a bridal print can be easy if the couple has relatives or friends with small children. Usually a bridal print is a girl who is directly related to the family. A girl may be a younger sister, niece or cousin, but she does not have to. It is often the case that the bridesmaid is the daughter of close friends of the bride and groom. If you have a large family and there is more than one girl who is suitable for the role of a small bridesmaid, don't worry! The junior bridesmaid dresses look beautiful and lovely when they go to the wedding ceremony together with the bride. jr bridesmaid

White Little Junior Bridesmaid Dresses And here are some of my favorite inspirations for the little prints at the wedding.

White Junior Bridesmaid Dresses

White and Rose Flower Junior Bridesmaid Dresses Some do not consider children as small guests at their party. In most cases, however, children are present during the ceremony and are even heavily involved. It is a fact that such innocent and sweet babies become the pride of the ceremony, and the tasks that will be entrusted to them in a unique way will diversify the course of the ceremony or wedding reception. Contrary to appearances, the youngest participants may have a lot of tasks to do. However, remember that you do not choose too small children or extremely shy, because the presence of a larger group of people may additionally intimidate them and, as a consequence, give up the tasks entrusted to them. If the choice of girls we have, let us make every effort to make them an integral part of the wedding and reception. Choosing the right outfits that will harmonize with the whole, and above all with the bride is very important. And dressing little girls is nothing but pleasure.

White Bridesmaid Dresses and Grey Groomsmen Suit What dresses to choose?

White Bridesmaid Dresses and White Flowers The most traditional and least invasive is to dress them in white (can be ball) dresses. We will not feel it so much in financial terms, because most of the young ladies have in their wardrobe an appropriate dress for such a special day. If we decide on more than one or two bridesmaids, we can combine their outfit with a colorful accent that will be in harmony with the whole. It can be a ribbon in the guiding color of a wedding and a wedding, which we will put on each girl in the waist, tying a phenomenal bow at the end. A great solution is also the use of this ribbon in the girls' hair. Another idea to connect small women is to make mini bouquets, referring to the bride's bouquet. Having a dressmaker in the family or with more financial possibilities, we can buy the material and sew a small dress for each little bridesmaid in a shade similar to the guiding color, or to a witness dress. Sensational in such situations, tulle creations work. The girls look like little princesses, and their appearance makes them feel good. Guests gathered at the ceremony can not take their eyes off the little ballerinas, and they will go crazy on the dance floor until dawn. A very important element in the outfit of every woman, even the smallest, are accessories. Currently, there are many beautiful decorations in the shops, for example for hair. One-colored clips, colorful flowers, miniature bracelets, unique bands, and even wreaths on the head, which will make girls dressed in different dresses have a common element. The phenomenal solution is the increasingly popular wreaths made of live flowers. If the bride will have such a wreath on her head, let us not even think about such a decoration for little bridesmaids. Read the full article