#should I open asks? It could be useful if I gain any amount of traction

[willows-unnamed-rpg]

Post 1) Overall idea - turn based pirate rpg/ttrpg system

TLDR: I am working on a ttrpg system as a basis for a turn based rpg that is magic, piracy, and exploration. A focus on wealth and growth plus a vast world (hopefully). I am inspired by alot of things, mainly horror and pirate media, so the intent is a more darker setting

Ok onto the post :)

I figured if I actually want to get this bloody game in production I might as well start with a long post detailing some initial thoughts with some hope of any amount of actual engagement (doubtful that is). This thing has lived in my brain for weeks now and it has officially kept me up at night now. Figured I should post something out into the world. Now I guess I should have some form of organizing

Why a turn based rpg

Honestly, it's what I love. I grew up playing RPGs and I love table top RPGs. I figured it was this or action rpg and I don't want an action rpg. Granted it might fit the genre more but also I'm the one making it the thing so I get to call the shots (until someone else hops in if I ever get someone else)

I also Game Master several table top games currently so I have an understanding of combat flow and narrative, I am just used to others adding to the story rather than it being all me (since ttrpgs are inherently collaborative works)

I have some ideas for the system, something I want to go into detail when I am less sleep deprived, but in short I want it to be classless but still guiding the player to general play styles, like mage or tank. I know pirates and magic, but the whole magical dungeon diving fits exploring ancient ruins for money (plus casting a big old fireball at a ship sounds cool as hell).

So a custom rpg system?

Yes. Like I want it to work on its own as a standalone ttrpg system. Since I should be able to make it translate well into a video game. I mean that's the hope. I won't be the first person to do this (look at all the d&d games from the 1980s on dos to BG3, it works)

The idea as said above is classless with point buying perks (kinda like fallout). Unsure if I want it to be a d20 system but I am absolutely going for high roll is better since low roll systems hurt my head (looking at 2e dnd, had to learn it for some dos d&d games and it took a bit of getting used to). But it's all subjected to change since it's literally this post and my brain

Pirates?

You bet. Look, the only good pirate games are Assassin Creed: Black Flag and Sea of Thieves and both are subjective. Of course the big problem here comes from the question of how much time do we put into ship combat to make it fluid. Especially with turn based rpg combat. And I know that will be the challenge. I will not back down from this point. I want ship combat. Even if it's just boarding other vessels. I want fireballs to light gunpowder holds and deal massive damage. I want artificers repairing the ship and manning guns. I want the player to feel at full control and be able to react while making choices that fit into the system. Without it being full on simulation.

As for the player exploration off the boat, that should be easy, like any other RPGs. Of course I have done ttrpg games not video games so I know it will be a pain nonetheless but that's learning and art.

So about that world for exploring

I want that to be it's own post once I nail down the system's mechanics but in short, kinda an Isekai (well not literally, the player isn't from another world, not yet anyway) but all the "Species" (no idea what I want to use for the word) are not native to the world, and so they have been invited over time to explore a long dead universe that they brought in their own beliefs. Does that mean human Christianity mixing with let's say elven nature faith? It's been in my mind as a neat idea but also *yikes* as well. I want to be sure that I consider everything, including cultures who were exploited during the age of sail so I don't propagate more harm. So that will require a lot of research and help from those communities. I also don't want to plop in fantasy races "just because" since they probably won't belong. We tend to see them because Western fantasy is typically "eurocentric", and this game will not be. Pirates were European sure but that ignores so many other groups (Barbary Pirate, Malagasy, South East Asian. Again I need to do more research)

I have tied in my own Mexican culture into my ttrpg games before but that's my own culture and in a small group. This is far larger and I need to give the world the respect it deserves.

What kind of art style?

I am not a very good artist so this one will be in the air until I settle, but I need to grow or get help. I would like something near realism (Honestly like how the Paradox Strategy games tend to do art, EU4 especially since it's the right period of time but again that's eurocentric so who knows)

I can't settle on a style when I haven't even made custom stat blocks for creatures or even know what creatures will be in the game yet. I will say, I love pixel art but I'm aware of exactly how much work it takes to make it wonderful. I have exactly zero skill in most art/drawing and what I do have need work, so best get to doodling to get better

The story?

On my main blog I usually write (though I am bad at posting, let's not make that a habit shall we?) but that doesn't mean I'm good at writing. Writing like drawing is an art, so I need to work on this and get help from others as it warms up. I don't want to disregard writing, it's an rpg, it lives by the narrative.

Other than exploring the world for money, I like the idea of it being focused on either one country or one city. A pirate republic. You could leave on expeditions and come back and those would be arcs. Do everything around town, hang out with companions, romance, and then to move the narrative along we build up to an expedition that changes the republic. Kinda like Dragon Age 2 and Kirkwall (not going into it here since spoilers for the game) but I really like this idea. You can see growth and change and get an impact on the narrative. Obviously this isn't anything new. But it's always a good time

My Inspirations?

That is a hell of a question. I have alot, ranging from Dark Fantasy/Gothic Horror with Ravenloft, Dragon Age, From Software's Library, Lovecraft's work (he isn't gothic horror I know, Eldritch is different but also water monsters in a ocean setting hits good) to pirate media with One Piece, the "Pirates of the Caribbean" movies and the actual historical pirates I know.

And Obviously with any game, Lord of the Rings and System Shock 2 despite how far apart both are and possibly irrelevant they are.

I don't have any current "required reading" minus The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings (and maybe The Dunwitch Horror?)

I guess my inspirations lead me to a darker world, which fits real pirates well

[andypantsx3]

This is going to sound weird, but do you have any tips on how to gain traction as a fanfic writer? I've been trying for years and I get next to no interaction on my writing. I know I shouldn't care because I should be writing for myself, but it's still frustrating to see other writers get thousands of notes, and reblogs and asks praising their fics and I get maybe 20 likes. I've been looking into discord fandom groups but a lot of them don't allow people over 30, and I don't do well with busy groups anyway. I try to be active on my blog, and interact with other people and make myself approachable, but I'm getting so incredibly tired of talking to an empty space. Sorry, I think I ended up venting instead >_<

WARNING: DISCOURSE AHEAD

Omg hello my love!! First of all, I'm so sorry you feel this way! I have so many conflicting thoughts on this, let me try to get them in order for you!!

I guess, let me first start with some tips that I think actually answer your question, and then I'll just monologue about the ways I've been thinking about fandom recently, and you can skip that part if you wanna!

Part 1: Actual Thoughts on Your Question (lol)

I am possibly not in the best position to ask about this because I mostly happened to be in the right place at the right time, publishing my fics in the early part of the pandemic when people were more actively engaging in the fandom. But in my experience, outside of discord groups, other good ways to meet people and get your work out there are joining zines & collabs.

I'm not completely up-to-date with what the accounts are now that track these things, but there are several tumblrs and twitter accounts like BNHA Zines that exist to retweet & publicize zine posts. Look for zines that are in the interest check & application stages!! You can apply during the application phase and the good thing is that most zines will ask for an application piece and will judge you on your work rather than your follower count!!

Collabs are usually even easier because many of them are just open to whoever wants to join! I've only participated in server collabs but I've seen several posts cross my dash that are open to anyone. I'd probably monitor the collaboration and x reader tags on tumblr and join in on anything that looks fun!!

Another thing that I've noticed people do a lot is self-reblog their fics a couple times just to maximize their circulation. I've seen a lot of moots trying to make sure they hit good hours for different time zones and different days of the week to ensure their followers are at least aware that they've posted something if they don't have notifs on (I don't have notifs on so I'm grateful for these because otherwise I miss a lot!!). Even I have srb'd a time or two if I'm particularly proud of something lol.

And I think, if I also wanted to be a shark about things, I would try to get in on the ground floor of a fandom in its early stages!! For example, the second season of JJK is coming out soon and it's sure to bring a wave of new readers to the JJK fandom, especially for the characters like Gojo and Getou who look like they're gonna be the main focus of the season.

I think if you wanted to be extra sharp about things, you might time a fic release with some of the first couple episodes of a new season where you can be sure more people than usual will be poking around in the tags!! And if your fic is published during the early stages of a fandom, it's going to have more eyes on it overall than a fic published towards the conclusion of the series.

Anyway this is what I could think of. I hope this advice is practical and useful!! Now onto me blathering.

Part 2: Resisting Influencer Culture in Fandom Spaces

This part might be kind of controversial. I want to first acknowledge how easy it is for me to think and say these sorts of things when I'm already more than pleased with the amount of engagement I get. And I want to recognize that it is so, so deeply human to want recognition, community, and support for the things that we write.

I think it is so completely natural that you want interaction on your writing. All of us totally do, otherwise we wouldn't be publishing it publicly. If our work was truly, singularly for us and us alone, we'd keep it in the drafts lol. We put it out there hoping for praise and appreciation and connection, and in my opinion there is no shame in that.

So, admission time: I also definitely compare myself to other writers, and I have several times thought about transitioning more towards the type of content that drives higher note counts on tumblr: smuttier one-shots usually under 10k! I can see a huge difference in terms of just my own work on how my one-shots typically do in comparison to chaptered fics. And I definitely see how fast smutty imagines shoot up there in terms of note count.

But I was listening to a podcast episode recently on trying to sort of transition away from a metrics-focused approach to fandom. In the podcast, they talk about how in trying to legitimize fanfic as a literary mechanism, we've also sort of accidentally subjected it to our capitalist-influencer-mindset, where we see fic as more legitimate the more kudos it gets or the more followers it nets you, because in traditional influencer spaces, those followers are potential capital.

I'm definitely not saying you or I see people as potential revenue streams, but I think probably neither of us are immune to the culture at large, and we both probably carry some of internalized sense of our own value based on metrics, reach, and influence. And that sucks!!!!

Fandom, of all things, is supposed to be a specifically anti-capitalist space. We can't make money off of fanfic or fanart (legally, anyway lol), and we're all not the owners of the franchises either so none of our takes are necessarily more "valid" or weightier than others!! We're all supposed to just be trading stories around a campfire with no thought to their literary merit or monetary value. We're just supposed to enjoy the stories.

So, I don't know what the right answer is about how to try to resist the influences of our capitalist culture at large; I'm hoping someone smarter than me will tell me. But I do know that in fanfic, the value of your story can absolutely never be determined by how much engagement you get. Because fandom is not about metrics, and there is no inherent value in metrics. There is only the fun you had creating the story, and the depth of the connection you made with someone over it--even if that's just one other person.

And so I personally am at least trying to resist the lure of transitioning to smutty one-shots even though I think a lot of people would like that. Because what I like doing is writing my little 30k multi-chaps; those are my fave kinds of stories to tell, I'm not letting my metrics tell me what I should be writing.

I hope, at the very least, you know that your worth and the value of your story is not defined by how many other people have read it. And if you ever wanna chat more about this let me know, I'm still figuring this all out myself and could use friends to explore it with!!

[hops-hunny]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 1

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: None for this chapter!

A/N: Nothing major happens in this chapter, this is sorta just like the beginning stages.

(Y/n) let out a load groan, hand searching aimlessly for the alarm clock on her side table. “Where is it?!” she continued to slap her hand around on her table, many objects falling to the floor before her hand finally landed on the right one, the rooster noises ceasing as her hand collided with the big snooze button. She rolled over, sighing as she stared at her speckled ceiling. “Perhaps I really should take the time to learn how to use the alarm on my phone.” it wasn’t that she was bad with technology persay. It’s just if it was produced after the year of 2008 you could forget it. Could you really blame her though? During all her years at Hogwarts, she had never made the switch her fellow classmates made with modern technology. Sure she had a smart phone but the only thing she could manage to do with it is call, text, and make notes in the notes app (something she had just recently learned as well).

Unwillingly, she crawled out of bed, stretching as she let out a large yawn, bones snapping and cracking like a New Year’s firework. She made her way to the bathroom, looking into the same mirror she always did, watching the light in the center flicker the same way as always. Life for (Y/n) was seemingly unchanging. Day after day, month after month, was spent exactly the same. She’d wake up, get ready for work, and then travel a few blocks down the street to open the bakery. Her bakery.

It wasn’t that (Y/n) didn’t enjoy what she did. She happened to enjoy her job very much. All her friends at Hogwart’s had encouraged her, giving her the push she need to travel the journey of opening her own business. It was something she had always wanted to do but her parents begged her not to. In their words they didn’t want ‘an over zealous and unrealistic’ daughter on ther hands. However, their rude words simply were fuel to the fire. During her 5th year, she began to busk tables at various shops in Hogsmeade. It was hard work, balancing long shifts at 3 different shops and still maintaining decent scores in each class. But, she knew if she couldn’t handle that then there was no way she’d be able to handle running a bakery. So day in and day out she’d work, and work, and work and by the end of her 7th year she had a decent amount of money saved up! 

The first issue had been finding a place in a good area that would gain traction and attention while the second one was finding someone willing to sell to someone fresh out of school with no prior business experience. She’d spoken to many people in various different places, some good, and some bad before she finally had been blessed with the chance of meeting Mary and her wife Denise. It was a miracle really. (Y/n) was short on the money, exponentially so however, Mary had sold to her anyways. She said she saw a passion in the girl that she hadn’t seen for a very long time and that it was something she wanted to help foster considering she had had her time to live her dreams and explore passions of her own. So with that, a handshape was exchanged for a beat up envolope filled with the entirety of the girl’s life savings. She had invested every nickel and dime she had ever earned into the place and she prayed it wouldn’t blow up in her face.

Which brought her to where she was today: a proud owner of a highly successful business. And of course, with great business comes a nice chunk of money which caught her parents’ attention. They had began to call her everyday but when that they didn’t work, they showed up at her shop unannounced. At first, she had felt warm inside. Her usual cold and distant parents had come to visit her! However, when they started crunching out numbers and percentages, that short lived happiness was replaced by irritation in which she quickly kicked them out, placing a charm on the building that when they’d attempt to enter (if they really, truly, had the balls to come back), their bodies would be flung right back onto the sidewalk into the heaping piles of trash on the city side walks. Now, (Y/n) was by no means wealthy, but she made a nice amount of money to be engaging in something she enjoyed so heavily, which is why she was confused where they had gotten the idea she had money to share with the main two people who were the cause of her insecurities. Plus, every extra dollar she had she put right back into the shop. Paying her workers, building maintenance, ingredients. She wasn’t a fan of having too much money, her family had shown her what that could cause (and how easily you could lose it all). 

Yet still sometimes she found herself wishing she could live the lavish lifestyle her parents once did. She mainly dreamed more so of the more engaging parts instead of the status and power that came with it. As she frosted various different cakes with thick buttercream, her mind would wonder to vivid imagery of beautiful hotel rooms, with breath taking views. Michelin five star meals, coated in delicious cream sauces. Endless adventure waiting to be discovered.

And yet here she was, sitting at a table as she stuffed her face with a raspberry marzipan cupcake. It was a Wednesday, first one of the month and as per usual, her and Twyla were set together, sampling cakes, chocolates, and other treats for the upcoming days. Wednesday had been the official day  they had chosen due to the slowed flow of people that would come in. (Y/n) liked to have a different theme each day of the week. The customers lived for it and she had massed a group of frequenters who came each day, wondering what the theme would be that day.

“You know boss, I’ve gotta say it. Working here and sampling all these cakes with you is giving me quite the ass!” Twyla said, turning around as she wiggled her ass in the girl’s face for emphasis. (Y/n) giggled, rolling her eyes as she swatted at the girl, missing as she jumped away from her last minute. “Hey! You gotta take me out to dinner first for that.”

“Just because we’re sampling cakes doesn’t mean that the store is closed! Anyone could walk in at any moment and would you really want that to be their first experience here?” she asked, eyes scanning the silver platter in front of them. She decided on the new dessert flavored chocolates she had been working on. Popping it into her mouth, she let out a moan of approval.

“I mean, I dont’ see why not! We’d definitely make a lot more money with a cake like mine!” the blue haired girl said, sitting down as she grabbed a chocolate as well. “Besides, I don’t think those little noises you’re making would help the scene.” she stated, snickering as the girl across from her tensed up.

“It-it’s not like that! The chocolate- it just- I just- ugh!” she stuttered out, huffing as she crossed her arms over her chest, pouting at the girl. “If you’re gonna keep being mean we can end this process. Just tell me what you think of the blueberry pie chocolate so I can know if we’re adding it to tomorrow’s spread.”

“Oh come on (Y/n) it’s good! Every first Wednesday we sit here, you overly critique yourself, then me and Tiana end up picking out our favorites for the next day!” Twyla was right, even their patterns for trying new things remained the same. (Y/n) wiped her messy hand on her aprons, sighing as she stood up to go back to her position behind the counter. Her employee followed, grabbing the platter to put back into the kitchen before joining her boss behind the counter.

“You’re right. I swear everyday is beginning to feel the same.” She opened her notepad, beginning to take inventory of the sweets they had in the display counter. “I’m grateful for everything I have, I really am. But sometimes I just wish I could have something, anything….”

“New?” the green eyed girl added, catching the (h/c) haired girl’s attention. She nodded, looking at the girl who had snuck a cookie out of the glass case. “I feel ya, girl. Everyday feels the same. Sometimes even when new people come in, I can already tell how they’re going to be. How they’ll act, what they’ll order, what method of payment they’ll use.” (Y/n) eyed the girl up, raising a brow.

“Are you sure you’re not just using legilimens?” she questioned, watching as the girl shifted on her feet, scratching the back of her neck.

“Okay so maybe I do sometimes. But a lot of the times I don’t! Like the other day this weird guy came in and- woah. (Y/n) I don’t wanna freak you out but I have a feeling those hotties in suits across the street are going to be walking in here soon.” Twyla said, in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. The shorter girl followed her friend’s gaze, looking out the glass doors across the street. Three unfamiliar men were crossing over, all in suits that she could only assume cost as much as four months of rent. However, the one in the middle really caught her eye.

Before she knew it, the bell chimed and the three of them made their way in. They looked very out of place in the brightly decorated shop. The one in the middle looked the most important, towering over the other two men. He had dark slicked back hair, an eyebrow piercing, and tattoos that were visible on his neck and hands (which had a few beautiful looking rings on them (none of which were a wedding band…)), yet his hazel eyes held a soft look to them. To his left was a redhead boy, freckles danced all along his face. His eyes were bloodshot from god knows what. He had tattoos as well (not as many as the middle man) and a few unique ear piercings. The guy to the hot tall guy’s right was attractive too but not nearly as serious looking as the other two. In fact, he was humming a song under his breath, a smile causing the tattoo on the right side of his face to crease. 

As she went to open her mouth to greet them, the man in the middle eye’s grew wide, his mouth gaping as he stared at her. He walked closer, examining her face closely which caused her to grow confused.

“I’m...I’m sorry. Do I know you?” she asked.

“(Y/n)?” she gasped at the sound of the familiar voice, her notepad and pen dropping from her hands. She made her way around the counter, staring up at the tall man.

“Neville?!”

NEXT||

TAGSLIST: @vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff @clancyscookies @beewitchedlou @nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend @redpanda-poetry @vibingaesthetically

[sunsetinmyvein]

The Radio Station - Chapter Two - I’m So Excited

21st of August, 2013

  The email had come in from her boss about a week before the interview was scheduled – next Wednesday, Mathew Healy was going to be back on her show. A part of her felt kind of anxious about this fact. Since the last time they had met, the band had indeed taken off as she predicted. Their popularity was only snowballing and the man that she had the pleasure of knowing for a brief while was revelling in it (from what she had seen in other interviews, anyway). She tried to remind herself that he was very easy to get along with the last time, so this should be no different. And she had met some substantially larger names than The 1975 in her time at the station. So, her anxiety was therefore fairly unwarranted. Which begged the question about why she felt those nerves sitting at the pit of her stomach in the first place, just from knowing that he was coming back into the studio. However, there wasn’t any point in stewing over it, nor was there time to, because he was knocking lightly at her glass door before she knew it. His mohawk had grown out a bit since she’d last seen him eight months ago, but otherwise he looked largely the same. She had a feeling he was even wearing the same black jacket he’d been wearing before. Looking behind him, it would seem that he’d brought one of the guys with him that she had seen him with after their last interview. If she recalled correctly, he was their drummer.

 “It was Matthew, yeah?” She asked, trying to play it cool as she ushered the two of them inside. She hoped that it wouldn’t be apparent too quickly that she had been watching The 1975's movements closely since they’d met. Though, if Matthew was as clued on this time as he was the last time they’d spoke, she likely wouldn’t be able to hide it for long.

“Yeah, but Matty’s better.” He grinned. There was a short pause as he stopped for a beat and maintained eye contact, before remembering that he had someone else to introduce. “And I don’t think you guys formally met last time, but this is George. I dragged him along, hope that’s okay.” He added as he gestured to the man standing behind him.  

“Good seeing you again.” George nodded politely.

“You as well.” She replied. “Take a seat you guys, there’s still a couple of songs that have to play through before I introduce you.” She said as she gestured to the other side of the desk. Matty gladly took the usual guest spot as George dragged across the smaller chair from the corner of the room.

  “How’ve you been?” Matty asked eagerly, shuffling around in his seat as he tried to get comfortable.

“Yeah, good. Pretty much the same as usual.” She chuckled as she took a sip of her coffee.

“I’m surprised that you’re still running the lunchtime shift and they’ve not bumped you up to some prime time, peak-hour traffic slot.” He said casually, earning an incredulous laugh from her. The morning and afternoon shifts were the most coveted positions at any radio station, let alone one as big as this. She was pretty happy that she’d managed to land a job that gave her hours during the day as opposed to a midnight shift.

“Ah, I think I’d need a bit more of an audience before that happened.” She replied.

“I dunno, from what I’ve heard you seem to have a decent following.” He said with a shrug.

It was quiet for a moment as she processed that. She was pretty certain she could hear the clock hanging above the door ticking quietly as her brain tried to catch up. “You listen to the show?” She asked eventually.

“Whenever I get a chance, yeah. Or just catch a few highlights here and there on social media.”

  That truly caught her off guard. Matthew Healy was out there writing albums, playing shows, and listening to her radio show? Why? Surely, he had better things to do in his downtime? “Uh, so what about you guys?” She asked, clearing her throat and trying to change the topic before he took note of how flustered she was becoming at this knowledge. “How’s things?”

“Really good!” He grinned. “We had Glastonbury recently which was amazing, and have Reading and Leeds coming up this weekend, and-” He started rattling off, quickly stopped by George as he put a hand down on the singers’ shoulder.

“Don’t wanna give too much away before the interview starts, Matt.” He laughed softly.

“Well, no, but-“

“You have to save the stories or you’re just gonna end up repeating them.”

“I can tell different ones.”

“You’re gonna tell the same ones that you tell every time, I know you are. And you won’t wanna tell them in the interview because you already said them now.”

“You don’t know that.” Matty frowned, clearly keen to push the point.

They continued this back and forth for a while before she intervened, “Anyway,” She sensed she had to diffuse this argument before it progressed into teenage bickering. “let’s do an interview.”

  The two of them instantly tuned out of their conversation and back into the matter at hand as she began flipping switches. She pulled her headset on as she gave them one last cursory glance to make sure that they were ready.

"Hope you’re all having a pleasant afternoon out there, folks.” She spoke into her microphone. “As per usual on our Wednesday shows, I do have some special guests here in the studio with me to have a chat.” She said, nodding across to Matty to introduce himself.

“Hey! It’s Matty from The 1975.” He said with an excited grin.

“And George.” His friend added, leaning across to be closer to the mic. “Great to be here.”

“So, it’s been about nine months since you were here-”

“Entirely too long, if you ask me.” Matty chimed in casually. She pressed on, trying to ignore the charm that seemed to radiate from just about everything this man said.

“-and all of the EPs are out now, correct?” She continued.

“Yep.”

“Your album comes out in just under two weeks?”

“That sounds about right.”

  She glanced down at the notepad in front of her, but she was pretty sure that over the last week she had memorised these questions front to back. “Are you excited for the album to finally be out? You were saying last time that it was practically already written back when you started the EP concepts.”

“We're definitely excited to finally hear people's reactions after how much traction we've gained from the EPs.” George began.

“It's been sitting in our heads for so long, it was almost hard to postpone it, but we wanted it to be perfect.” Matty threw in. “We didn't really expect to have such a positive reaction so soon, so it'll be interesting to see what people do with the main event.” Matty answered with a daydreamy look flashing in his eyes for a moment.

“I’ve really been enjoying the EPs.” She added, which instantly caught Matty's attention.

“Have you?” He asked instantly.

“Yeah, they've had a fair few spins through my playlists.” She laughed, suddenly making him grin ear to ear.

  “You mentioned the positive reaction, Matty. With how fast you guys have taken off, I've heard a lot of people out there referring to The 1975 as an overnight success.” She prompted. “But you guys have been working on this since you were teenagers.”

He let out a sigh. “There is so much stuff about us being an overnight success…” He pulled a hand through his hair as he looked over at George. “It’s been ten years, actually.” He chuckled.

“Was the ten years worth it when you got the call to open for the Stones?”

“Yeah. Yeah!” He almost shouted, now letting out a full laugh. “it’s stuff like that, that really makes you appreciate it.”

George nodded along with him. “I think this whole year’s been worth it. Not just the Stones show, we’ve had a lot of great festivals and great sold out shows. It’s been strange. Surreal telling people about those events.” He elaborated.

“We didn’t mean for any of this to happen, really. So, it was a bit daunting initially.”

  “You guys are still on tour?” She asked, moving along to the next topic.

“Yeah, have been since we last spoke.” Matty said with a nod. “Not really getting off tour until...” He seemed to be counting in his head. “December next year.”

“Next year?” She asked in surprise. “That's quite a long tour.”

“We are just… constantly on the move now.” He shrugged.

“That's for sure. It’s been a big year for The 1975. You guys had Glastonbury in June.”

“Yeah! That was amazing. It was incredible to play at a festival that we all grew up going to.”

“And have Reading and Leeds coming up this weekend with some big names.” She reminded him.

“Crazy…” He agreed. “We haven’t really been in the country for a lot of it. When Chocolate went so mental, we’ve been in America and Europe and just touring. We’ve just seen each other every day, it’s not really been that different for us. But the shows are getting bigger, people are really investing in the band, so it’s an amazing time.”

  “You guys also did South by South West, which was eleven shows in five days.”

“That was mental.” George scoffed.

“Yeah! We were quite surprised to see how many people came to all of those shows. Chris Martin said the most perfect thing ever - of all people - if you throw a party and like 50 people come up, so imagine doing that for twice, three times the amount of that, every night, in cities you’ve never even really heard of. We turned up in Milwaukee and 350 people came to the show. We had a sold-out show in new York.” He rattled off, seeming slightly bewildered at the memory.

“That's pretty crazy to be making such big waves in a different country like that.” She concurred.

“I think it’s a testament to the internet, really. How far we’ve come from Manchester all the way across the world.” The drummer offered.

Matty instantly took that thought and ran with it, “God, I could talk about it for ages. It’s strange to go somewhere – when you go to places, and you realise you have a following there… your identity, your sense of self, almost feels slightly diluted? Because you’re in somewhere so unfamiliar, but witnessing the most familiar parts of your life. Your material, your art. It’s weird, man.” He said, shaking his head slightly.

  “Does it intimidate you guys at all?” She questioned.

“No.” He instantly answered. “It’s amazing, a very humbling experience. It’s just very odd, the power of the internet? It’s kind of unsettling, but not intimidating. Kind of feel like you’ve lost a part of yourself a little bit.”

“How so?” She urged him to continue.

“Well... that’s when you’re at your most honest, isn’t it? When nobody knows who your band is. Now people know who we are. I’m the protagonist in every song I write. Which means every time I put stuff out there, it's putting out a part of me. Every conversation in a song is me and a normally female counterpart.” He tried his best to explain. “But that’s a subconscious thing.” He added as an afterthought.

“So it's like you're a little too transparent putting that much of yourself out there to such a large group of people?”

“Well, yeah. Your identity becomes kind of vaguely diluted because it’s not as embedded in what you’re familiar with anymore. Your identity kind of extends to places that you don’t really understand. It’s quite an unsettling thing for me.” Matty looked like he was struggling to find the right adjectives to describe the feeling. “It’s interesting. It’s cool.” He eventually settled on.

  “Does that sort of feeling ever bother you when you're on stage?” She asked.

“Not at all. Performing is one of the only times I feel satisfied.” He laughed. “I just love it. It’s like putting on a party every night.”

“Would you guys ever do another big supporting tour like The Stones?”

“Probably not right now.” George supplied, before Matty spoke over him.

“There’s been a genuine investment from our fans. Every show we put out sells out really quickly now. We’ve not been able to meet the demands of the amount of people who want to see our band. As much as going off and playing with popstars in arenas would be fun, I think that would be an indulgent decision. It wouldn’t be for the right reasons. We need to play our own shows… we’ll have the opportunity for all that later.” He answered decisively. George seemed happy with this. “I don’t want us to get too big too quickly, you know? A lot of people feel like we’re their band. 'You’re my kinda band.' That’s how I always used to fall in love with bands. I don’t wanna lose that. I want that to remain, because it really is important to me that every single person gets the band.” It wasn't hard to believe that Matty meant what he was saying with the amount of conviction in his voice as he spoke into the mic in front of him.

“We have quite a strict door policy on our band. We don’t want idiots gettin’ in.” George threw in to try and lighten the mood.

  “Back to Reading and Leeds, then. You're playing with the likes of Fall Out Boy and Green Day. Those are some massive names that'll be bringing in big crowds.” She started her line of questioning, waiting for them to respond before she continued.

“Yeah... We haven’t played to that many people.” Matty wiped his hands down his face as he took in a deep breath. “But it’s a real validation of all you’re doing. It’s not something we’ve ever craved, but it’s something we’ve really, really embraced and something that pushes us forward as creative people. It's cemented our identity as a band.” He replied.

“Are you nervous?” She asked with a smile.

He chuckled slightly, “Yeah, a little bit, but not really. What’ve we got to be nervous of? If people are there, they’ve already made that investment in us. We’ve just gotta show up and provide what we are.” George nodded. “And we can do that, so let’s just do it, d’you know what I mean?”

  “All right, we're gonna play a couple of songs and then we'll be back with some questions you guys sent in earlier in the week.” She spoke into her microphone before cutting away.

“Fan questions?” George asked in curiosity as he took his headset off.

“Yeah. The station told people to text stuff in through the week and I've picked a few to ask.” She said with a nod as she took a swig from her cup of coffee.

“Hopefully you picked good ones.” Matty said with an eyebrow raised.

“You'll just have to see.” She shot back, earning a grin from him.

“You do brilliant interviews. I can't imagine you'd give us shitty questions.” He added. She tried her best to make sure he wouldn't see the slight blush on her cheeks at the compliment.

  “You know, you should come out to a show sometime.” He segued. She was all too happy for an out from that conversation before it progressed.

“You guys hardly ever play here.” She pointed out.

“Come see us at Reading.”

“I hardly think you guys are high enough up on the bill to be offering to get me into a major festival for free.” She tried to sound accusatory, but couldn’t stop herself from cracking a small smile.

“Ask the station to get you in.” He suggested. She noticed that he seemed… rather eager about this idea.

She sighed deeply as she mulled this over. It would be nice to see them play live. It would be nice to see Matty again. Seeing him at a show counted as work, right? She could use that as a loophole in her own rules. “I’ll see what I can do.” Matty’s eyes practically lit up at her words.

  “Okay, we're back with Matty and George of The 1975, here to answer some questions sent in by you lovely listeners.” She started, flipping over her notebook to the scribbled fan questions. “First up we have Louise who wanted to know, what's your highlight been so far?” The two men sitting across from her both let out a groan.

“So much has happened...” George mumbled.

“The whole thing has just become a bit of a blur, to be honest with you.” Matty answered. “It’s just loads of surreal situations strung together by doing interviews. I’d like to be in that place of having that much foresight – that much retrospect and hindsight. Everything’s happened so quick… I don’t know how I’m gonna feel about it. I can’t imagine things can continue being this intense in another year.” He paused for a moment, before pulling himself back on track. “Having a genuine connection with people who I never would’ve thought had even heard of our band every night, just that kind of…extended feeling… is the highlight of every night.”

“That's quite a nice sentiment.” She nodded.

“When we were a lot smaller in the UK, like January, a couple came up to me after a gig in London. And said that they’d fallen in love with each other through our EP – the Sex EP. They’d started speaking about it when they were out with a group of friends. They’d met and said ‘you know this band The 1975’ and they fell in love with that record and now they’re getting engaged.” He looked absolutely astounded by this, looking across to her to make sure she understood how crazy that was. “And I love that. It nearly made me cry. Because that’s it. That’s all we wanna do. For our music to affect people emotionally. If you have an artistic expression that does that… there’s nothing more beautiful, really. And if that’s your job, how can you get any better than that?” He finished with a shrug.

  “Next we have Sam who's asked could you guys imagine doing something else instead of being in the band?” She questioned, crossing it off her list.

“We can’t do anything else.” George said with a laugh, instantly making his friend do the same.

“The band is the only expression we have. That’s bought from being complacent on working for anything else, and being totally, totally narrow minded and blind. We’ve never thought of the idea of this not happening.” Matty said.

“David has asked, how do you keep going?”

“Alcohol.” Matty instantly laughed. “Not really.” He quickly corrected. “It’s been the only thing we do, y’know? It’s not like we were in a band and had other interests. As soon as we became consumed by this band, we just stuck together as individuals. I think also because our social group has always orientated around us as a four, there’s never been any reason for us to not make music. It’s almost as if someone said ‘yeah, all right’ and then we got embraced by lots of different people and institutions.” He explained.

  “Have there been any bad times?” She asked. “That was from Anna.”

“Not really?” George frowned. “I suppose when we were being wined and dined by the labels and then everything kind of fell apart? But it ended for the better, because we then signed a great deal on an indie that allowed us to have total creative control. Retrospectively we wouldn’t have had it any other way.” He answered.

“But it wasn’t that bad!” Matty chimed in. “Getting’ flirted, y’know. We were really young when all these labels were going for us. We were always quite fortunate as a band to have a lot of foresight.”

“Right, on that note, Jessica has asked how hard is it to stay true to your original ideas when speaking to labels?”

“You get really excited for the first few encounters, then you quickly learn to tame yourself and not get excited until you’re physically doing what has been said that they’ll do for you. You’ve gotta keep your head.” George answered.

“We just prided ourselves on our conviction. The only reason we wanted to do was this because it was on our terms.”

  “Okay, Brian has asked if you guys ever fall out?”

“No.” Both of them instantly answered.

“We Just avoid that stuff and let other people deal with it. It’s too much of a personal endeavour to let the small stuff get to you. It’s not like we’re four boys who started a band because we wanted to be in a band, we’re four mates who ended up in a band by accident. So, pfft, whatever.” The singer scoffed.

“We’ve not focused on the financial stuff or anything like that. The only thing we have maintained is to have the final say and total creative control, and we all agree on that so there's not been any arguments to have.” George said.

“Last serious one and then we have some quick fire stuff.” She said as she scribbled out the last question. “Brendan wanted to know what your biggest accomplishment is so far?”

“Just making the record.” Matty said with a shrug. “I don’t really care how that record’s perceived or embraced, because it’s such an honest record - it’s such an honest depiction of who we are and where we’re from. It’s so uncompromised. The fact that a band like us managed to make a record like that without compromising at all… I’m just proud of that as an idea.”

  “Okay, some short and sweet ones to end out the interview.” George and Matty sat up a little straighter in their seats. “Who's the best behaved?” She asked.

“George is tidy, I guess?” Matty seemed hesitant as he glanced at his mate. “He’s quite well behaved but we’re all quite well behaved because we’ve been in a band for a long time. This a very… kind of pursuit for music for us. A lot of our partying doesn’t actually happen when we’re on tour. We try and be as good as possible. All of us have our moments? We’re in a rock band, y’know what I mean?” He chuckled, running a hand through his mohawk.

“These are meant to be quick, Matty.” She reminded him with a smile. “If you could pick one person dead or alive to be stuck on an island with, who would it be?”

“Musically? Michael Jackson – just to go through musical ideas. But I think he’d get on my nerves after a couple of days.”

“Yeah, same.” George agreed.

  “Can you moonwalk?”

“Yes. Very well.”

“Which celebrity do you think would have the best banter at a party?”

“Anyone from Geordie Shore.”

“If you could swap wardrobes with anyone, who would you want it to be?”

“ASAP rocky. For sure.”

“Write us a poem.”

“That's not quick fire!” He scoffed with a laugh. “And that's not a question!” He added, now properly laughing. “In an interview, the idea is to ask questions that I can answer. You’re giving me all of the work.”

“Ahh, I thought you'd be able to churn out something instinctual like those people who spill the truth after a bunch of quick questions.” She grinned.

  “Well, that's all we have time for.” She sighed, leaning back a bit in her chair. “Thank you guys for coming in to the studio to have a chat.”

“It's no problem.” George smiled sweetly.

“We'll be here any time you want us on.” Matty replied.

“That was Matty and George from The 1975, and a track from them is coming up next.” She finished up as she set Chocolate up to play next. The two boys started getting up from their seats, grabbing their stuff and straightening out their jackets. As they were about to leave, she heard Matty tell George to go on ahead and he'd catch up. She spun in her chair to face him as he walked back over to her.

“I was serious , by the way.” Matty said, leaning back against the desk. “Any time you want us on the show, or if you wanna come out to see us play, just let me know.” He said as he held out a piece of paper. She took it from him, realising it had his number scrawled on it.

“Is this meant to be a subtle way of giving me your number?” She frowned up at him, but he definitely caught on to the excitement she was trying her best to hide.

“It can be whatever you want it to be.” He shrugged with a smirk as he followed after his friend.

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @dot-writes @tooshhhy @robinrunsfiction @approved-by-dentists

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

[itsuki-minamy]

BEFORE ZERO:  CHAPTER 4 “THE EYE OF THE KING, THE EYE OF THE HUMAN”

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

* Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3

Zenjo, Akio, Azuma, Bado, Chidjiiwa, Daiba.

The cooperation of the six masters easily cuts through the dense formation of "Purgatory".

A six-man training unit called "Saw Traction Unit" by its Lord, "Blue King" Habari Jin, the movement is unique, different from traditional combat techniques and modern urgent operations.

They have their own specialties in each hand and have different speeds, ranges, and advance powers. While running at full speed. A group of dry blue blades is turned into a four-dimensional excavator and dismantled through a large group of talented fighters. After the six swordsmen stormed past, a heartbeat later, the black-robed strangers splattered, splashing heat and burning blood.

"What are they?"

Shiotsu coughed while avoiding the hot blood splatters.

A six-member chainsaw, which is also a pioneer.

One, two or three people for each sword strike. His appearance of stroking the monster "Purgatory" and going through it reminded him of another monster that hunts and bites the monster.

"What are they?"

Shiotsu asked again.

The word was also directed at the members of the “Purgatory��� clan, who continued to blatantly defy the violence of the opponent.

Men dressed in black who burn and heat the entire body's blood with the ability to "red" and literally gain an explosive spine and destructive power. Of course, such use of different abilities touches and destroys their own bodies first and foremost. Many of them will take enormous damage in their environment and die in a single battle. A human bomb in a black robe who simply rushes to destroy the moment without saving his own life. It is a destructive and unconventional variant, both mentally and physically.

Both enemies and allies are monsters. There was no possibility for ordinary people to enter the battlefield.

Shiotsu gave instructions to the next rushing forces. It is a cleaning of the remains of the red monster that was spoiled by the blue monster.

Shiotsu and the followers stabbed the end of each of the dying black robes that fell to the ground and leaned against the wall. Some were able to save their lives, but at the same time, they still have the power to suddenly kill opposing members. For those who don't have normal human sensitivities, this was also basically dealt with mechanically.

Perhaps the current scene is one of the most horrible little battles ever fought on land. However, if "Purgatory" is left unattended, it will cause much more damage in the future. This is a necessary public act. As a member of a security organization, Shiotsu understood that point.

But at the same time, in light of the common sense of modern human life and ethics, his life on this battlefield is too light.

"Huh!"

From the other side of the door that opened, he hears Akio's laugh. She does not belong to Shiotsu's common sense, and she seems to think of this situation as a game.

It's not just Akio. The "Red King" and the "Blue King", "Purgatory" and "Scepter 4", many of the people here think of this battle as some kind of game. If he do not get caught up in the weight of life and the heavy burden of society and move lightly like a sports competition, he will become entangled and die.

Something was moving at Shiotsu's feet. The mortally wounded black robes of "Purgatory" were wringing out their last power and concentrating their abilities on their fists. When the fist was about to be hit by Shiotsu's leg, Shiotsu's sword flashed, and when he slashed his fist, he pierced the eyebrows of the black clothing with his returning sword.

The bright red fist bounced several times, leaving a scorched mark on the ground, eventually turning into a black mass and burning.

When Shiotsu sighed, he accompanied his subordinates and followed the group of six members.

++++++++++

A "Scepter 4" command vehicle is parked on the street in front of the "Purgatory" grounds.

The "Blue King" Habari Jin is in the passenger seat with several rear commanders. The appearance of leaning his elbows on the door and closing his eyes is like taking a nap, but his brain is spinning at high speed.

Various noises are heard from outside the vehicle. Status reports exchanged through communication devices. Noise due to radio interference. The tremors caused by explosions and collapses transmitted from their feet. All that information is collected to keep track of the situation.

The smile on his mouth shows that things are going according to Habari's plan. The sword of the "Red King" was quickly and surely approaching the throat of the "Red King". Kagutsu may or may not know the situation.

Even if he is in the middle of a war or disaster, he is a man who will fall asleep without raising his eyebrows.

Noises, tremors, screams, do not trigger Kagutsu's actions. The "Red King" continues to sleep in silence.

The "silent blade", which spreads sparks and roars, does not give the "Red King" time to wake up.

"That would be a beautiful ending."

Minato raised his face from the control table at the words that Habari suddenly leaked out.

"That is beautiful"?"

"Eh? Ah. I was thinking about the "Saw Traction Unit"."

"I see, members Zenjo and Akio..."

Minato was also witnessing a mock group training the other day. He can imagine the situation at the scene. The light of the blue sword and the sparks woven by the six masters, and the blood and explosion of the prey. High speed group sword dance, it was a spectacle that could certainly be evaluated with some kind of aesthetic sense.

"Beautiful...?"

He thought he didn't have that kind of sensitivity to talk about how life explodes from the perspective of "beauty."

Habari said in response to the confusion mixed with Minato's tone...

"To reach an overwhelming existence like Kagutsu's, you have to have some kind of 'beauty', no power, no reason... It seems like that to me."

Habari said that with a slight silence.

"Don't you think so, Minato?"

"No... I'm not in a position to say anything."

"I don't care. I want to hear your opinion."

"If that's the case..."

Minato said with a preface.

"I don't know anything about the existence of the 'King' and the discipline to follow, but the closest thing to 'beauty' you say is you, the 'King of Blue'... I think so."

"In other words, not that chainsaw."

Habari struck the handle of the sword placed next to the seat.

"I should use this sword to face Kagutsu, that's what it is."

"No, until then."

“It is a very plausible opinion. Traditionally, the flight from royal authority has been suppressed by the direct action of another royal authority. It can be said that it is a thought."

"Eh... if so, why...?"

“Kagutsu is different from other kings. It is a non-standard monster that seeks destruction and violence. If I or any other royal authority were in front of him, that would be what he wanted. The clash of the two kings' abilities will bring an unprecedented amount of destruction to earth."

"Blast of royal power...?"

"Exactly."

Habari looked up at the sky beaming in response to Minato telling him to do so voluntarily.

“The power of two opposing "kings". The different skill fields of "red" and "blue" speed up, inflate and collide with each other. It would be a beautiful sight."

What exactly do you see in the eyes of the "Blue King"?

"Blast of royal power". A runaway and destructive phenomenon of a force field of extraordinary capacity predicted by Weissmann's theory. Minato lost his words to the "Blue King" who speaks of the ruin that the "Seven Kings" and their helpers are trying with all their might, except Kagutsu.

"But it is a beauty that should not be on earth."

Habari looked down at the "Purgatory" battlefield and the "Saw Traction Unit." Minato was relieved for some reason that his line of sight returned from heaven to earth.

"The highest potential for forbidden beauty is reaped with the next best beauty. That is the meaning of our chainsaw."

When he came to the conclusion of that, there was a slight tilt in Habari's profile.

He felt something was wrong with the noise outside the vehicle or the communication that he heard leaking.

"Commander…?"

"It's bad. Something unexpected is happening."

"Habari!"

As expected. Above Minato's head, Zenjo's voice came over the phone line.

"Can you hear! Can you hear me, Habari? Akio is dead!"

++++++++++

The situation was extremely confusing.

Immediately after Zenjo announced Akio's death, the counterattack from the members of "Purgatory" began. The hordes of demons that had been ripped apart and crushed by the "Saw Traction Unit" reappeared inexhaustibly from here and there in the facility, dividing "Scepter 4" and sifting through each one. Some have been injured.

"What is the situation? Zenjo! This is the command vehicle! Habari!"

The command vehicle operator barely answered Shiotsu's question.

“Saw drive unit. The report is that it is no longer available. The commander has just headed to recovery."

"What... idiot, stop!"

Before the words were finished, there was a person running through Shiotsu.

The "Blue King" Jin Habari.

"Shiotsu!"

Without looking back and slowing down, Habari said.

"Assemble the group. Leave in five minutes!"

After a moment of victory, Shiotsu nodded and yelled in a loud voice that echoed around him.

"Scepter 4, get together!"

However, the situation is now inferior. At the edge of the corridor and in one corner of the room, there are several abandoned and isolated members.

First, gather the people in the center of the room and then collect the isolated people. However, not all members are on time.

When Shiotsu thought that, several silver lights streaked through the space.

Multiple throwing knives from Shiotsu, who followed Habari with his gaze, and were thrown from behind.

It was the work of Hayatoshi Minato, who ran in succession.

Like Habari, Minato moved his arm left and right without slowing down and threw three knives at once. Although rarely used in everyday life, Minato puts a series of small throwing knives similar to medical scalpels in the sleeves and pockets of his uniform as a convenient weapon, in addition to being equipped with his official sword.

Each knife followed a different curved path and hit the body of those in black as if it had been inhaled. The power of each is not high, but it creates a rift in the black clothes movement to help cornered members, and surely creates an opportunity to escape.

In the blink of an eye, a dozen knives were thrown, and Minato took a deep breath and jerked his arms forward.

Until then, the knives that had been thrown one after another, this time, were thrown six at a time, rushing forward like a torrent of light, stepping forward as they dodged Habari's back from side to side. Beyond that, he pierced the key points of the three black clothes guarding the door at the same time.

All three of them were only a part of the black outfit on the spot, but that was enough.

Habari draws his sword and slashes the three with a returning sword, and rushes into the dark room without gambling.

"Minato!"

Shiotsu called out to Minato, who ran over to the side.

"Protect the 'Blue King'."

Minato nodded briefly, chased after Habari, and leapt into the darkness.

++++++++++

Just a few minutes ago...

"Akio is dead!"

When he heard the words, Hayatoshi Minato became a self-defeating body for a few moments.

"Akio...?"

As a couple in a fighting organization, he was prepared to say goodbye in this way one day. However, when they told him it was "today", he was surprised.

Meanwhile, his lord, the "Blue King" Habari, jumped out of the vehicle and quickly used the sword at his waist.

"Minato."

"Oh, commander...?"

"Ask here. I have to remove the rest of the "Saw Traction Unit" and the forces that run."

Coming to himself with that word, Minato also jumped out of the vehicle.

"I'll accompany you too!"

It was an intuitive action.

On today's site, there are some items that exceed the expectations of "Blue King" Habari Jin. Something that took the life of Akio, who was creating a rift in cooperation with Zenjo.

He, Hayatoshi Minato, was said to be a foreign molecule in the "Scepter 4" organization. "Why is a decent person like you in such a small and stretched world?"

The answer is: "I came with Akio as a bonus." In contrast to Akio, who was a person who should enter "Scepter 4" in terms of personality and ability, Hayatoshi Minato originally had the qualities to lead a life as a general citizen.

The reason he entered "Scepter 4" is because he is with Akio. There is no doubt about it.

In response to Minato, Habari said, "It's an unexpected change." While maintaining common sense, he highly evaluated Minato's willingness to adapt to the air of an abnormal group without hesitation, often asking Minato for his opinion as a pseudo "big picture".

Minato offered to accompany him to the center of enemy territory.

Habari instantly caught Minato's will and nodded.

"Okay, let's go."

And now…

Minato ran after the "Blue King" and entered the devil's lair.

What does a mere human eye, a "king" or a demon see there?

What caused the death of his wife, Akio?

When the eyes get used to the darkness of the prison, Minato's eyes will find her.

(To be continue…)

[oh-obrien]

Bend The Rules {1}

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski x Original Female Character

Word Count: 7,163

Warnings: None (yet)

Author’s Note: Yes I know my moodboard is pictures from American Assassin, and yes Stiles will still be his awkward clumsy self but he’s also kind of a bad ass so *shrugs*. Anyway this fic is one that I had started in another fandom last year but didn’t really love the plot I had planned so I took the concept and 100% revamped the plot. It’s a little dark, a little morbid, and I love it. It also happens to be a soulmate AU so y’all are in store for a lot with it. Message me to be tagged (or send an ask)!

Codie sat on the cool tile floors of the New York Police Department Special Operations Department’s K-9 Kennel, her legs bent at the knees and feet planted firmly on the ground as she held tightly to the end of the red, white and blue Kong rope that the dog in front of her had firmly grasped between his teeth. Her bike shorts weren’t helping her gain any extra traction and her sneakers were slipping on the tile allowing Maverick to pull her around easily. 

She felt some of the skin on her hands starting to become raw from all the pulling she had been doing but it wasn’t anything that her almond butter lotion couldn’t fix once she returned to her apartment later that night. She felt the sable German Shepherd give a particularly strong pull on the rope and her butt lifted off the ground while the rope was pulled out of her hands. She landed back on the floor with an ‘oof’, and a dull pain in her tailbone. However, before she had any time to think she had a hundred pound mass of sable fur on top of her.  

“Maverick!” She laughed, gently pushing the dog’s face away from hers, but it didn’t help her situation. Codie already had a wet pink tongue covering both her face and the lenses of her glasses in copious amounts of doggie slobber. She let out a long groan and tried to roll away from the dog, silently cursing at herself for foregoing contacts that morning. She found herself trapped under Maverick’s body, her right cheek pressed into the floor and her left still being covered in kisses by the large dog. To anyone else the sight of a twenty-year-old face down on the floor with an over excited German Shepherd on top of them would have probably been quite odd, but it was considered pretty normal for Codie. 

Growing up with a father who worked in one of the most esteemed parts of the New York Police Department, Codie got to visit many of the animals that worked for the department and would often get attached to many of them. She had spent her fair share of time meeting and playing with many of the dogs at the SOD kennels and had also gotten to spend time at the Mounted barn with the horses on a few occasions. Her dad had also adopted a few of the dogs who had retired but couldn’t say living in small New York City apartments for the rest of their lives and they now had plenty of space to play and live out the rest of their lives on the family’s spacious upstate property. 

“Maverick! Platz!” Codie suddenly felt Maverick’s weight pull off of her back and rolled over, pushing herself up on her forearms, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie.

She pulled the hem of her hoodie down over her slightly exposed stomach and squinted through her smudged glasses to see who had walked in. Across the room Maverick now laid in front of two pairs of work boots. Codie could make out that one pair of boots seemed to be old and worn, days of working on the streets and chasing criminals down the alleyways of the city had clearly been spent in those boots. The other pair appeared new, shiny even, the few scratches on the boots signaling to Codie that they had seen the streets but they were yet to be truly used for their intended purpose.

Carefully, Codie reached up to wipe most of the slobber off her lenses before letting her eyes trail up the legs that belonged to the owner of the relatively new boots. He wore the same uniform her father would come home every day in when Codie had been younger, the fabric pulled tight over the bulletproof vest worn under it and across his broad shoulders and rather large biceps. The name tag on his chest plate read ‘Stilinski’ and Codie was sure she had heard the name before, but had never been able to put a face to it. Not until this moment of course. He also had a K-9 badge on his uniform and Codie assumed he would be Maverick’s new partner.

On the other hand, Stiles found his eyes trained on the girl who happened to still be on the floor of the Kennel. Stiles had heard laughing from down the hallway of the kennel as he had been walking to meet his new partner with Commissioner Buchanan at his side. “You know how much money the city put into these dogs?” He asked Stiles with a straight face. “You should consider yourself lucky that you’re getting one of these new dogs fresh into K-9, Stilinski.” 

Stiles Stilinski happened to be one of the newest officers on the force and had moved from his first precinct in Queens into Special Operations K-9. Stiles knew it meant someone had put a very good word in for him, and he would forever be incredibly thankful to be offered the opportunity to be promoted to K-9 so early in his career. At only twenty-three he had already started to work his way up the chain of command, a number of future promotions already clear in his line of sight. 

As Stiles and his higher-up got even closer to the end of the hallway, he realized that the sound of their heavy work boots thumping on tile floors and the clinking of their gun belts had easily begun to be drowned out by high pitched laughter coming from inside the kennel walls. “Must be Codie again,” Officer Buchanan sighed as he scanned his ID to unlock the doors to the kennel.

Stiles knew that Codie was the Commissioner's daughter, he had heard plenty about her and had seen the countless pictures of her hung up in the Commissioner's office, but he had never met her face to face. When the heavy doors to the kennel were pushed open, Stiles walked into arguably one of the most adorable sights he had ever seen. On the floor a girl with a head of straight, jet black hair, laid on her stomach; a large German Shepherd on top of her licking at her face, the dog’s tail wagging wildly. She tried to playfully push the dog away but he kept lapping at any available skin he could find to cover in slobber.

“Maverick! Platz!” Stiles heard the Commissioner say sternly from next to him. As soon as the words were spoken the dog pulled off the girl and he trotted over to lay at Buchanan’s feet. Stiles watched Codie wrinkle her nose and roll on to her back before pushing herself up on to her forearms before aggressively wiping at her face with a sleeve of her hoodie. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he watched her grab the hem of her hoodie, a small amount of the smooth skin of her stomach being exposed, while she wiped a majority of the slobber off her face. She had a wide smile and looked up to the Commissioner with a shy shrug while she stood up.

“Sorry Dad,” she mumbled, fishing a foil packet out of her pocket. Stiles’s eye followed her hands and read the label on the packet, ‘disposable lense wipe’, not a condom. He bit his lip to keep from laughing at his own thoughts before he looked up and watched Codie pull her glasses off her face. He watched her pink lips move as she had a conversation with her father, although he wasn’t quite sure what they were talking about. He got too easily distracted by the spots of slightly darker skin that dotted her face, he noticed she had the most freckles around her nose, the dotting becoming less crowded as his eyes trailed across her cheeks.

“It’s Stiles right?” Hearing his name caused Stiles to look in front of him where Codie stood, sliding her glasses back on to her face, pulling her hair into a low bun at the base of her neck. Stiles nodded feeling the blush creep on to his cheeks. Had they been talking to him him this entire time and he just didn’t realize?

“Me? I- umm, yes!” Stiles stumbled over his own words. The moment he met a pretty girl he just had to revert back to his awkward teenage-ness, it always happened. “Sorry, yes I’m Stiles, Stiles Stilinski,”  he quickly pulled his hand out of his pocket and held it out. He heard Codie let a small breath of air followed by a quiet laugh slipping past her lips while she shook his hand. He hoped she didn’t realize how nervous he felt, he didn’t think his hands were clammy so he had to be off to a good start.

“Well, Stiles,” she dropped his hand far too soon, “I’m Codie.” The smile she wore seemed kind and genuine. It made Stiles feel a type of warmth inside he had never really felt before, the kind he would call butterflies in his stomach when he had been younger. It fell silent between the two and Clint Buchanan cleared his throat causing the pair of young adults to turn and look at him.

“I have other men to introduce to their new partners,” he looked between Stiles and Codie before his eyes landed on his daughter. “I think if anyone here is qualified to tell you anything about Maverick it's Codie,” Clint raises his eyebrows at his daughter.

“Dad,” she groaned, her eyes rolling as she kicked the ground in front of her with her Nike sneakers.

Clint gave his daughter a small nod and she just let out a long sigh. “Stiles,” Clint started, “don’t let her convince you otherwise,” Stiles looked over to where Codie stood, still looking at the ground while they talked about her. “She has been at this kennel with him every day since he got dropped off here eleven months ago. Actually,” Clint trailed off for a moment, “she asked if we could name him S’mores.”

Codie’s head snapped up and she glared at her father, “dad!” she whined. “We agreed we would never talk about that again!” Her cheeks were also becoming red. Stiles realized that her blush made the freckles even more prominent, it seemed to make her even more attractive than he first thought, absolutely breathtaking.

“Imagine that one,” Clint clapped Stiles on the shoulder while he turned towards the door, “Officer Stilinski and his partner S’mores, it actually has a nice ring to it” he laughed loudly while pulling the door open. “If you have any more questions about him ask Codie.” With that the metal door of Maverick’s kennel closed, leaving Stiles and Codie alone. The two were barely three feet apart, yet neither made the effort to move further away from the other.

“S’mores?” Stiles’s eyes widened realizing he had said that out loud and he immediately reached a hand up to cover his mouth. Codie’s head snapped up after hearing Stiles snicker the word. Her eyes narrowed at him before she stepped closer, closing the gap between the two of them. Her hands found their way to his chest and with a gentle shove Stiles found his back against the wall, his hands bracing himself on the cool tiles. His breath hitched when Codie left one hand on his chest the other falling to her side.

“If you ever, and I mean ever tell Derek about that, because I know for a fact he was the one who put a very, very good word in for you, I promise you they will not find your body.” She spoke in a smooth tone. She still stood close to Stiles, too close, even after she finished speaking. Close enough for Stiles to start counting individual freckles on her nose and cheeks, the ones around her lips too. He found himself resisting the urge to reach up and trace the marks across her soft skin with his finger, to watch her blue eyes flutter closed under his gentle touch. 

He looked down to where her hand rested on his chest, it was firm but not at all threatening. She put just enough pressure for him to feel her touch through his bulletproof vest. It had him hyper aware of the fact that she currently stood in front of him, touching him. Stiles found his eyes trailing down to her right wrist, where a soul mark would appear if she had already met her soulmate. However, the skin there appeared just as pale and smooth there as the rest of her body. 

“I umm– wow,” Stiles choked out looking up into Codie’s eyes for the first time. “You’re pretty, strong. Pretty and strong. Can we– lunch?” Stiles squeezed his eyes shut after he had finally gotten some form of his question out, absolutely embarrassing himself in the process. 

Codie moved her hand off his chest, “you wanna go get lunch?” She smirked while repeating a clearer version of his question, glad that she could get a man much larger than her nervous.

“Only if you want to!” Stiles replied a little bit too fast. “You don’t have to get lunch with me! Only get lunch with me if you want to.” Stiles closed his eyes again and took a deep, long breath in, just like he and Scott had practiced in high school. Scott would be so disappointed in him right now though. 

Stiles held the air in his lungs until it started to burn before letting it out his nose in a steady stream. Soon Stiles was speaking with his eyes still closed, “what I meant to say was if you want to get lunch one day I would like that.”

When she saw Stiles’s eyes open again Codie had been met with one of the most beautiful shades of whiskey brown she had ever seen. His eyes were searching her’s nervously, waiting for her to answer his question. Before she could assure Stiles that he didn’t need to be this nervous around her a big, furry body pushed it way between theirs, stating that they had not paid attention to him for the past two minutes and that he was now on the verge of death from lack of pets.“Maverick,” Codie groaned as the sable dog jumped up to try and lick her face.

“Beruhigen,” Stiles spoke, still slightly nervous. Codie smiled watching the dog settle between her and Stiles’s bodies, listening to the command without a second though.

“See!” She looked from Maverick to Stiles, a wide smile on her face, “your training paid off! You are one of the first people I have ever seen who has gotten their dog to listen that fast and you haven’t even done the partner training yet.” She saw the grateful smile Stiles gave her, his shoulders relaxing slightly with the compliment. “Maybe I should get lunch with you,” she spoke thoughtfully, “you can teach me a few of your tricks.”

Codie walked over to where her backpack sat near the door, opening the front pocket to pull out a post it, “wait,” she cut herself off and turned around. “You haven’t met your soulmate yet have you?” She narrowed her eyes at the man in front of her and he pulled his sleeves down, showing his clean wrists. “Okay good,” she held her own wrist up before holding stack of post its between her teeth, unzipping another pocket and pulling a pen out. “That’s my number,” she held the paw print shaped piece of paper out to Stiles, numbers written neatly in blue sparkly ink. “Text or call me and we can make plans.” She picked her backpack up before turning around to where Stiles was running his hand over Stick’s head. “Just so you know, I usually have a policy of not dating my dad’s officers.” She saw Stiles’ eyes widen and waited for his response.

“I can- we can forget this happened,” Stiles mumbled. Codie saw the frown growing on his face and shook her head as she walked over to the officer again. She rested a hand on his forearm before leaning in and placing a quick peck on his cheek. She watched as his cheeks heated again and he cleared his throat, looking anywhere in the room but at her, definitely a catch.

“No, sometimes you gotta make exceptions,” Codie shrugged and turned around, walking towards the door. “Ya’ know you’re pretty special Stiles Stilinski, hope you know that.” With that Codie walked out of the kennel , leaving Stiles alone and flustered with his new partner and a pink paw print post it with his boss’ daughter’s phone number on it.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

“Why can’t you just tell me!” Codie walked into The Club when she heard a familiar voice fill the mostly empty space. She had been greeted by the usual bartender who handed her a glass with her usual drink in it, a spiked coffee. She set her backpack down in the coat room and pulled off her hoodie before walking through the lobby and into the main dining room.

At their usual table, the last row to the left in the front corner, Codie saw Derek, Allison and Scott already digging into appetizers, their first drinks almost empty. “You know that we keep work at work Alli,” Codie watched as Scott moved a hand to Allison’s thigh and let it rest there, his thumb rubbed gentle circles into her leg and Codie felt herself smile, wanting to finally meet her soulmate so she could have a relationship like theirs. 

She had grown up with Derek, he had been aware of her presence in the universe well before she had been born, and with Derek came Scott once he had been turned. The werewolf had quickly been accepted into the new pack Derek started forming out on Long Island and he had quickly become a large part of Codie’s life. Then with Scott would come Allison. During her first year at Columbia University Codie had shared many classes with Allison, and the pair quickly became close friends. Eventually, Codie introduced Allison to her ‘at home’ friends and Allison and Scott had almost immediately discovered they were soulmates. Codie often reminded everyone that she would take all the credit for their relationship until the day she died. 

Once the trio realized Codie had entered the room Derek looked over and gave her a smile while Scott continued to talk to Allison who had a fake pout on her lips, but her hand came to rest over the one that was on her thigh. “You okay Pup?” Derek asked as Codie sat down, sliding her chair into the table.

“Me?” Codie checked her phone, looking for a text from Stiles before setting it face down on the table. Derek’s eyes carefully followed her motions before flicking back to her face and he sighed. Scott and Allison both offered her a small greeting after she sat down and Codie turned back to Derek.

“Yes you,” Derek playfully rolled his eyes, well aware that the twenty year old wasn’t paying much attention to anything going on around her. “Which boy do I need to talk to?” He asked, watching Codie take a sip of her drink before she looked to him again, her eyes narrowing.

“Nobody, you say that like I talk to random boys all the time or something. I am in fact dedicated to finding my soulmate Mr. Hale,” she responded smoothly. Codie grew up around all types of police officers, but one thing she never learned how to do was lie. She had always been and always would be absolutely awful at lying and she knew it. So, when Derek narrowed his eyes at her himself she took a deep breath, “don’t worry Uncle Derek.”

“You and I both know it’s not nobody Codie Grace,” he sat up a little bit straight while Codie leaned back in her chair, “where’s he from.” Now Scott and Allison both seemed turned into the conversation themselves. Great, even more people to air her dirty laundry to.

Allison's eyes lit up and she folded her hands on the table, Scott reaching up to cover hers with one of his. “You met someone?” She asked, her voice laced with enthusiasm. Ever since Codie had introduced Allison to Scott when the pair had been eighteen, Allison wanted nothing more than to do the same for Codie. So far though, there had been no success.

Codie half snored out a laugh, “no Al, I haven’t,” she turned to Derek, “and not from here, that’s for damn sure.” Codie knew exactly what Derek had been trying to do and she would not be happy if she let him win that easily. Derek had managed to guilt trip her into plenty of confessions in the past, she knew better now.

Scott decided it would be his turn to join the conversation and spoke up, “he just worries about y’know?” He added, “he just wants what’s best for you, trust me on that one.” Codie knew if anyone wanted the best for her it would be Derek, Allison and Scott. Derek had played the role of big brother for Codie’s entire life, and Allison had become the sister she had never had growing up. Allison and Codie had been navigating undergrad together since their first day on campus, and they lived together until Allison had decided to get an apartment with Scott before her junior year started and right before Scott went into the Academy. Codie also had managed to grow a pretty solid relationship with Scott and trusted him with many of the things she knew that Allison would share with him. 

“You’ll know who he is,” Codie downed the rest of her drink and went to stand up to ask for another, but Derek shook his head and motioned for her to sit back down.

“You’re still only twenty, lucky they let you drink here, and you know my one drink rule.” Derek would not be playing today apparently. Codie went to respond but Derek cut her off, “don’t try and pull the ‘but you’re interrogating me like one of your suspects’ card. I’m telling you up front it will not work today.” Codie let out a frustrated groan before turning to Allison and with pleading eyes.

“If Derek knows him he’ll be able to at least tell you if the guy has good intentions, Codie,” Allison offered.

Scott nodded along with his girlfriend, “Yeah see,” he leaned over and pretended to pull a hair out of Derek’s head, “Derek already has enough gray hair don’t make it worse, and I don’t want a grumpy Alpha to deal with later on.” Scott rolled his eyes when Derek flashed his red ones at his Beta.

Codie tried her best to slam her empty glass back down on the table in a manner that would show her frustration, but she would be too nervous to break the glass if she actually did. “Fine,” Codie crossed her arms, “he works in Special Ops.” Codie knew only giving that away wouldn’t be too much and could still leave her wiggle room to talk herself out of the conversation if she needed it.

“Thank you Codie,” Derek ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated with her. He had clearly come straight from overtime on his night shift and had his uniform pants on still, one of his work t-shirts on his top. Maybe she shouldn’t be giving him such a hard time. “Now we’re dealing with bomb squad, coastguard, the pilots, counter-terrorism, ESU,  should I keep going?” Derek added afterwards.  Allison pulled her hands out from under Scott’s and pushed them out flat in front of herself, signaling Derek to take a deep breath before she glared at Codie. Codie couldn’t hear what Derek said, but he closed his eyes and mumbled something under his breath before he nodded slowly, taking a deep breath.

“Codie, c’mon,” Scott started, “he just talked about how he had a long day and stressful shift at work before you got here, you should know how it goes.”

Allison nodded in agreement, “and we really don’t need to walk circles around something that is just going to be discovered regardless,” Allison’s eyes softened as she watched a crease form between Codie’s eyebrows. Codie pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and started gnawing on it, a very clear sign she had building anxiety.

“Fucking fine but-”

“Language,” Derek tiredly pulled on the roots of his hair, his eyes still closed.

“Fine!” Codie huffed annoyed that this conversation had even been started, but she still felt bad for causing Derek extra stress “but first you promise not to tell my dad!”

“Codie, I hardly see him anymore and I have too many cases right now to even consider getting you in trouble with him,” Derek steadily grew more and more tired of the attitude he had been getting from Codie. He felt tired from work, he felt tired from holding his pack together, he was just tired, and all he wanted to do was go home and take a much needed, extended nap. He didn’t need the added stress of this conversation.

After realizing just how tired Derek was Codie looked to Allison with a sorry expression before sighing,  “he works in SOD K-9, Officer Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski.”

Derek suddenly stopped pulling on his hair and a small smile grew on his face while he looked across the table to Codie, “you’re kidding?” He asked. “The one I put a good word in for before he transferred out of my precinct?” Derek wanted to make sure he had the right Officer.

“Yes,” Codie felt her cheeks growing hot under everyone’s gazes. Codie had a few boyfriends in the past, but none of them were around long enough for her to introduce them to her family, let alone her extended, supernatural family.

When Derek nodded before leaning back into his chair Codie watched the smile on Allison’s face grow, her hands coming up to hold her own cheeks. “Oh my god, he’s so sweet, I worked with him at the range for training one day!” Allison spit out the words a mile a minute, and Scott laughed. Codie watched as Scott smoothed a hand down Allison’s back, trying to help ease her excitement slightly. “I was helping my dad that day and he’s just so level-headed-”

Derek cut Allison off, “he’s twenty-three, Codie,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Codie bit her lip, she knew Stiles would clearly be older than her, but she also knew that three years wasn’t really much of a difference, “you’re twenty.”

“You’re thirty and that new girl you’re seeing from One Police Plaza is twenty-four,” Codie shook her head, “your argument is therefore invalidated.” Codie watched as Derek tried to process what he wanted to say to her next and he took a minute before he actually settled on what he wanted to say. He knew Scott and Allison were present and didn’t want to argue like he and Codie used to when they were younger. The only good part being that since they were in a public place it couldn’t get physical at all. Codie and Derek would have often resolved their conflicts with wrestling matches when they had been younger. However, with Derek being a were and Codie not, she had gotten her fair share of scrapes and bruises.

“She’s out of school and the academy Codie!” Derek pointed out with a disappointed laugh and a shake of his head.” The gap means less when you’re older.” Codie wanted to respond, she wanted to keep arguing with Derek, but she understood that he had been stressed at work lately, that new cases had been flowing at an alarming rate, and he had more than his share of cases on his desk at the moment. He closed some relatively quickly but the trail of leads had run dry on others.

Deciding to give Derek a break, and deciding the argument wasn’t their best use of time, Codie let out a long breath. “Okay,” she just nodded afterwards, waiting for someone else to start up a conversation. She thought Stiles would be everything anyone wanted in her significant other, but apparently he wasn’t.  

“This may not be the best time,” Scott started, “but Stiles is actually one of my best friends from the Academy, we still talk pretty often.” He nervously swirled his drink around in it’s glass and Codie watched as Allison put her hand back on Scott’s forearm and leaned in to kiss the shell of his ear, helping to calm any nerves he had about potentially arguing with Derek. “And he’s one of the most polite guys you’ll ever meet, Der,” he looked directly at his Alpha now. 

Codie let out a long breath and watched some of the cinnamon at the bottom of her cup swirl around in the remaining liquid while she waited for Derek’s answer. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea, Scott,” Derek but it’s rather simply. Feeling the words settle in, Codie realized she had lost her appetite and she no longer thought about what she would be wearing on her first date with Stiles, but now tried to figure out how to tell him she wasn’t interested anymore. If her pack didn’t approve, if her Alpha didn’t approve, then the relationship wouldn’t be viable.

A few seconds later Codie pushed her chair out and stood up, setting her napkin down on the back of her chair. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” she addressed the trio in front of her before picking her phone up and darting to the closest women’s restroom. Allison sighed as she watched Codie disappear and she looked between her boyfriend and Derek before speaking.

“You were a little bit harsh on her Derek,” Allison mumbled, “I could tell how excited she was when she walked in.”

Scott nodded along with his girlfriend, “I could smell it,” he added with a nonchalant shrug, really not wanting to get on Derek’s bad side.

“I know she was,” Derek angrily pulled on his hair again, a dissatisfied groan rolling past his lips, “I saw her face fall as soon as I said I didn’t think it would be a good idea, and I knew I fucked up.” Allison just offered Derek a sad smile but nodded.

“I know work is stressful right now, so please don’t beat yourself up about this,” Allison knew if she or Scott didn’t say something to Derek now it would become a bigger issue later when they all gathered at the pack house for a long weekend. “I’m gonna go talk to her,” Allison kissed Scott’s cheek before pushing her chair out and walking towards the bathroom.  

Codie heard the door to the bathroom open and she set her phone face down on the marble counters before starting the sink, she quickly squirted soap into her hands before sticking them under the faucet. Her hands shook under the warm flow of water as she felt someone walk up behind her. “You know he just wants what’s best for you, right?” Allison asked, leaning on the counter next to Codie, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Everyone wants what’s best for me,” Codie pointed out. “Everyone just has different versions of what’s best for me, so I can’t be mad at him because he has the right intentions. Right?” She raised an eyebrow and Allison let out a long sigh. 

Allison unfolded her arms and let out a long sigh while Codie dried her hands, “it’s not like that Codie. If Derek recommenced him for the K-9 position and he actually got it,” she shook her head, “he has to be a good guy!” Codie almost laughed at the statement, well aware that Stiles had to be a ‘good guy’, her dad went through  all the K-9 applications personally. Clint wouldn’t just hire anyone for the position, they had to be reputable, smart, caring, all around the best guys in the department.

“I just hope Derek realizes that I’m still going to lunch with Stiles, and if it doesn’t work out then he was right,” she trailed off and looked at Allison. “If he’s not right, well maybe he’ll be my soulmate, kind of getting tired of the whole empty wrist thing.” Codie nodded towards the soul mark on Allison’s wrist with a shrug. 

Allison just rolled her eyes and pulled her sleeve down, “I was going to tell you to just go out with him,” she offered a smile to Codie. “That, and if Scott is saying he’s friends with Stiles from the Academy, he has to be a pretty great guy, you know what a good judge of character he is.” Codie started chewing on her bottom lip for a moment but settled on nodding. 

Scott had been one of the best judges of character Codie had ever met, maybe the wolf aspect of him played into it, or maybe it was just his heart telling him the right thing. Whatever helped Scott judge people so well helped solve quite a few big cases since he entered the force and a promotion would be in the cards for him soon as well.  “As for Derek,” Allison started, “I just think he doesn’t like watching you grow up, it’s hard for him”

“It can be hard, and I understand that,” Codie let out a long sigh before looking over to Allison again, “but he knows how tough I’ve had it with relationships, he should be happy I’m interested in someone! Someone he knows for fuck’s sake!”

“Shh,” Allison just didn’t want Codie raising her voice too much where Derek would actually hear her through the bathroom, “you have to talk to him, Codie,” she pushed.

“Will he even listen?” Codie asked. “Because he hasn’t been lately, and I get work is stressful but he can’t take that out on me!” Codie took in a sharp breath and closed her eyes before letting out a long breath.

“We’re all stressed, Codie?” Allison reached out for one of Codie’s hands and squeezed it gently. “I’m stressed dating Scott right now, it’s a dangerous job, and if you think you won’t be stressed if you start dating Stilinski, you’re crazy,” Allison said it very matter-of-factly. “You of all people should know the stress the job has, the stress that being close to someone with that job being.”

Codie let out a long sigh and just nodded, knowing Allison wasn’t doing talking yet. “Some nights when Scott gets called in for an emergency shift, I’m up until he’s home and I know it’s the same with your dad.” She reminded Codie, the statement not meant to stress Codie out further, but to serve as a reminder.

“Yeah but Derek shouldn’t try and stop me from dating him,” Codie pointed out. “If I know about the stress then he should have no problem with me dating Stiles.”

“You’re right, he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t want you getting hurt, you are like another little sister for him he and he just wants you happy, he doesn’t want you stressing. When we go back out he’s probably going to apologize, let him, and don’t argue because he means it.” Allison told Codie sternly.

“Fine,” Codie didn’t argue this time.

“Sometimes you two are the same person, I swear, it isn’t easy dealing with both of you and Scott on top of it,” Allison mumbled while she pulled Codie into a hug before walking over to the bathroom door and raising her eyebrows. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Codie confirmed, she refused to drop Allison’s hand as the pair started walking back into the dining room where Derek and Scott were waiting with the main course in front of them, the food so far untouched.

Once the pair reached the table Codie dropped Allison’s hand and walked around the other side to wrap her arms tightly around Derek. “I love you Uncle Derek,” she mumbled squeezing him tighter, “thank you for everything you do for me.” Codie swore she heard Derek stop breathing for a minute when she squeezed him extra tight.

“I-I love you too Pup,” Derek pulled back slightly to kiss Codie’s temple before she moved back to her seat across the table. “I’m sorry I overreacted, Stiles is an amazing Officer and I’m sure he'd make an even better, err, potential partner.” Codie felt a smile spread across her face with Derek’s words and she laughed lightly looking at him, slightly shocked.

“You’re kidding?” She asked, shocked with Derek’s confession. “What changed your mind?” Codie was genuinely curious and wanted to know how a few minutes alone had changed Derek’s thought process so drastically.

“Scott,” he glanced at the other wolf across the table and Scott offered a sheepish smile. “I have respect for Officers their age who are able to see so much so young and still stay composed and still come to work every day and tackle whatever they’re given,” Derek sipped his second drink. “I was in their position once Codie, and I know someone like him can only want what’s best for you.” Codie noticed that Derek hesitated, that he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure if he should. It had been one of his signature moves since they were younger, his eyebrows would knit together and a small frown would form on his face while he considered if saying how he felt was worth it.

“And?” Codie urged him to continue, wondering what he was holding back on.

“ I think that you two-” Derek got cut off by Codie’s text tone ringing through the empty dining room. Her eyes flickered briefly to her phone which was face down before moving back to look at Derek, her heel tapping anxiously on the ground. “Check it Codie,” Derek rolled his eyes. Codie let out a breath and her left hand reached out to pull her phone off the corner of the table.

Codie saw that the message displayed a picture from an unknown number and unlocked her phone, opening her messages. The image that she saw caused her to ‘aww’ out loud, confusing Derek, Scott and Allison. The pictures showed Maverick, laying on a large dog bed, a stuffed hedgehog under his chin. The text bubble signaling that the person who had sent the picture wasn’t done typing. A second later another chime rang in the otherwise quiet room.

‘Mav wanted me to tell you he misses you and can’t wait to see you soon for lunch!’ A second message followed, ‘If it’s not too soon I’d love to see you again tomorrow!’ Codie bit her lip to contain her smile, knowing the messages had been from Stiles.

“It’s definitely Stilinski,” Derek mumbled over his glass of Scotch, his hands gripping the glass tightly. “What’d the fucker say, Codie?” He asked. 

“Probably doesn’t dumb, Stiles does that,” Scott offered. Codie sighed and handed Allison her phone letting the couple across from her see the picture and message. She carefully watched for both their reactions, Allison being the first to have a wide smile spread across her while Scott just nodded. 

Codie handed the phone to Derek after, she had been most nervous for his reaction as she knew her father had already expected her and Stiles to get together when he first left them alone in the kennel. There had been absolutely no question there. Codie already had approval from the most important man in her life, now she just needed it from the second.

Derek slid Codie’s phone back to her a few seconds later before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, “God Codie, Stilinski is more of a dork than I first thought after Scott talked about him.” Allison laughed lightly and leaned her head on Scott’s shoulder, happy that Derek finally accepted that Codie was growing up.

“Oh my god,” Codie looked down to her phone again, her thumbs hovering over her keyboard, “what do I tell him?” She had gone out on a few dates, but nothing ever too serious, and she had surely never been this nervous to accept a lunch offer from someone before. “Do I just say yes?”

Derek’s soft smile told Codie that he truly had been happy for her and his response assured her that he would also be happy to help guide her through this part of her life, “tell him that tomorrow isn’t too soon and ask where he was thinking you could do?” Derek suggested. Allison’s nod confirmed that it was a good response and Codie looked over time Scott knowing he would know who Stiles would like best.

“Stiles will be happy with any form of yes,” Scott just shrugged.

Not even a minute later Codie’s phone dinged again and she picked it up, “He said that he was thinking he could cook for me!” Codie looked up and both Derek and Allison looked shocked, Scott had a smirk on his face. She had never had a boy offer to cook for her. “Oh Stiles is whipped already,” Scott laughed.

“Oh my god, Codie. God has gifted you with an amazing man,” Allison replied. Codie looked over to Derek who rolled his eyes. Allison kept speaking, “ask him if twelve thirty is a good time for him.”

“Twelve thirty?” Codie asked. Unsure why Allison would be so set on that time.

“It’s not too later but still early enough to give you both a little extra time to get to know each other,” Allison gave Codie a playful eyebrow wiggle causing her to look down with a slight blush, typing out the question.

“Not like that, Al,” Codie mumbled out while she watched the dots that indicated Stiles was typing pop up. “Perfect”, Codie started to read his response, “‘just wear something comfy! No reasons to dress up.’” She locked her phone and looked up to Derek with a grateful smile. “Thank you Uncle Derek, for always wanting what’s best for me.” Derek just nodded in response while reaching a hand out across the table for Codie to take. He had seen her get her heart broken before and if he trusted anyone with his Codie’s heart it would be the kind hearted, K-9 Officer he had helped promote himself the month before.

“And thank you Scott for convincing Derek’s stubborn ass Stiles was a good guy,” Scott mocked in a high pitch voice, causing the entire table to laugh. Maybe something finally would work out for Codie, but she knew it couldn’t be that easy. 

[tlbodine]

Why Isn’t “Mass Shooter” a Modern Horror Monster?

Horror reflects the anxieties of the culture that produces it. In the 1950s, we got monster movies about radiation-mutated creatures and invaders from beyond the stars, mirroring our Cold War Science fears. 

In the 1970s, as “Women’s Liberation” and birth control went mainstream, we see an influx of horrors settled on childbirth and children and family dysfunction. 

And as the 70s bled into the 80s, while real-world serial killers were leaving behind trails of victims, the masked psycho was dominating the field with countless slashers. 

But now -- throughout the 2010s -- mass shootings loom large our our collective American consciousness. Hardly a week goes by without hearing of one somewhere, and they inspire fear and terror. Yet we haven’t seen them show up to dominate horror media in the way serial killers do -- what’s up with that? 

Horror-media discussion about gun violence under the cut! 

Before we get started, a caveat: There is media about school shootings. It’s just not usually horror. Most, as you can see from IMDB, is family drama: https://www.imdb.com/list/ls070532039/

And none of them are really particularly mainstream, not in the way we associate with slasher films. 

So what’s the difference? Why is a killer with an axe more compelling as a film monster than a killer with a gun? 

Some hypotheses: 

Primacy: Because mass shootings are frequently in the news/public discussion, it’s always “too soon” - the real-life horror is too horrifying for entertainment. Sounds good on paper, but why isn’t that true for slashers? Those movies were popular when serial killers were at their most active. 

Politics: Perhaps political motives are influencing the market. Since gun control is a contentious topic, maybe some powers are motivated toward censorship. But wouldn’t that also censor the family drama type movies? Why would it focus on horror especially? 

Logistics: It’s just really hard to make a good horror movie about a mass shooting. Guns kill people pretty quickly and indiscriminately, so you lose the mounting suspense and intimacy of a killer with a knife and other similar horror/slasher conventions. 

This last point, I think, bears some further consideration. The more I think on it, the more it seems that the things that make gun violence especially horrifying in real life are also things that make it very hard to put in a horror story: 

Mass shootings happen, obviously, in mass. Most horror formulas require characters to be isolated and picked off one by one. 

Guns kill people in ways that are impersonal and swift. If you’re killing a stadium of people with an automatic weapon, it’ll take just a few minutes. You can’t stretch that out into a long, lingering torture sequence or whatever. 

Gun violence is indiscriminate. Wherever a crowd gathers, a shooter can start killing people. There’s no space for, say, the “horror rules” re: jock, slut, virgin, etc. because morality doesn’t play into it. 

A killer methodically making his way through a sorority house, killing its members one by one lends itself more naturally to suspenseful storytelling than a gunman opening fire on a crowd. A killer leaving clues and taunting detectives lends its own narrative structure. 

In that regard, it’s pretty obvious: We cannot make a slasher-style film or a torture-porn film about a gunman. It just won’t work. 

But perhaps we’re looking at it all wrong. What if we viewed the mass shooter not as a serial killer, but as a force of nature? The disaster movie genre has ample cross-over with horror, and the general formula would work well for a mass shooter: 

Introduction to a wide cast of characters as they maneuver into a vulnerable position

The disaster hits, and we move between individuals affected by the calamity, watching their initial reactions 

In the ensuing chaos, characters attempt to escape further danger

The danger passed (for now?) some characters manage to survive, now irrevocably changed

Whether the disaster in question is an earthquake, a sharknado, or a school shooting, that formula should work. The key to success lies in the pacing and the large cast, allowing you to stretch out a relatively brief event into a detailed and tense narrative. 

So why haven’t we seen that? Outside of, like, one made-for-TV movie I recall watching in the 90s, this presumably straightforward premise hasn’t gained much traction. 

The Making of Monsters: Signs and Signifiers 

Perhaps the real reason we haven’t seen a lot of horror stories about mass shootings is because there is already so much mythology and symbolism tied to these sorts of narratives, and that symbolism is at odds with the creation of movie monsters. 

Guns carry a tremendous amount of cultural significance and baggage, at least in the United States. It’s why they’re so politically contentious. And when something is already heavily laden with symbolic meaning, it’s hard to turn that symbolism into something else in a way that will stick. 

Point #1: Guns are a great equalizer. Unlike a knife or sword, skill doesn’t matter all that much when it comes to killing somebody with a gun. You don’t have to be strong or fast or have a ton of training. You just have to point it and pull the trigger -- if you do that enough times, and at a big enough target, you’ll probably hit something. This means that anyone can kill someone with a gun: a skinny nerd, a young child, a petite woman. Guns are the thing that give you, the underdog, a way to compete against them, the big strong enemy. 

This leads to Point #2: Good Guys With Guns(tm). As absolutely anyone who has been on the internet for five minutes after Any Sort Of Bad Event will tell you, Bad Things can be stopped by Good Guys With Guns(tm). And while you can debate the merits of armed civilians protecting a group from harm against an active shooter, it’s impossible to deny that, historically, good guys have been armed. Police, military, armed militias, frontiersmen, etc. carry weapons. Which means that “guy with a gun” does not immediately translate, visually or thematically, as “threat” in the same way as wielding a butcher knife in a non-culinary context. A guy with a gun could, at a glance, be a good guy. A guy with a big knife is obviously a villain. Similarly, the Good Guys With Guns(tm) bleeds over into the horror genre. What would the zombie apocalypse be without headshots? How many horror franchises could have been cut short if someone had just shot the killer? 

Finally, Point #3: Guns in media have special powers. Gun mythology in film and television is well-developed, with its own set of tropes and expectations. In movies, pointing a gun at someone will automatically make that person comply with whatever you ask them to do -- we even have vernacular about this, “nobody put a gun to your head” -- as if the gun were somehow more powerful than a simple threat and could in fact control behavior. Often, people who are shot in television politely fall over and die quietly; it’s a civilized end, without all of the screaming and thrashing (never mind where they’re shot or what that would would do in real life). And there are so many types of gun. We have a whole video game genre dedicated to it -- collecting guns, learning their various abilities, applying them situationally to achieve various goals. With so many established tropes, writing anything with new tropes and rules runs the risk of generating confusion, disbelief and even hostility in an audience. 

So, with all of that in mind, it starts to become clear: 

Writing a horror story about gun violence is difficult because guns carry so much mythic significance, and it’s impossible to write about them metaphorically while keeping it clear what that metaphor is. 

If I write a story about an atomic-powered lizard who destroys a Japanese town with radiation, it’s easy enough to see that it’s a metaphor for nuclear warfare. But there is no similarly straightforward metaphor for gun violence readily apparent. 

But it’s tougher even than that -- because guns themselves aren’t the only thing to have been mythologized. 

The Myth of the Lone Gunman 

Remember: Guns are the great equalizer. 

This knowledge sits in the foundation of storytelling, not just in the fiction we make up but in the way we build narratives around mass shootings in the real world. There are certain tacit assumptions we make about gunmen that may or may not be accurate.

We have a certain narrative framework in place to explain school shootings, for example: The awkward, isolated young man who is bullied until he finally snaps and goes on a killing rampage. 

Never mind that this narrative is not wholly supported by facts. It may be true in some cases, but certainly not all. And yet, go back up to that list of mass shooter movies on IMDB and look again at what the majority of them have in common. 

This is problematic because, from a mythic perspective, people who are bullied and then stand up to their oppressors are heroes. 

In Carrie, when Carrie White destroys the school after being humiliated on prom night, we’re on her side. It feels good to watch her kill all those people who were awful to her. It feels just and righteous and imminently satisfying. 

When Spartacus leads a slave revolt, we cheer. When Daenerys Targaryen kills all the masters and uses their heads as mile-markers, we feel triumphant. When Arthur Fleck shoots the smug talk-show host on live television, we think, Well, he had it coming. 

Oh, sure. We pay lip service to being horrified. And these dark heroes might die at the end, receiving some karmic retribution for the price of their revenge. But can you say, truthfully, that you have ever once watched a story about an underdog killing his bullies and felt sorriest for the bullies? 

So: This is the problem with our cultural narrative about the school shooter. Purposely or not, it puts the shooter in the role of hero. 

And not only is that irresponsible, it’s just downright inaccurate. 

When Stephen Paddock opened fire on a concert and killed 58 people, he was not firing back at his oppressors. 

When Omar Mateen shot up a night club in Florida, he wasn’t getting revenge against his bullies. 

When Adam Lanza slaughtered 26 people at an elementary school -- 20 of them young children -- he obviously was not giving his victims what they deserved. 

In the real world, mass shooters might be motivated by political ideology and a desire to promote fear -- ie, terrorism. They might be unhappy with some aspect of their lives and decide to “punch down” at a vulnerable group in the worst possible way. They might be looking to become the heroes of certain media narratives, to secure some kind of fame or notoriety. They might want to kill themselves in a way that hurts a lot of other people at the same time. There are lots of reasons why people might commit mass murder. 

But the important thing is that the victims are, overwhelmingly, not bullies and oppressors. They are people. Just innocent people in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because mass shootings aren’t really about personal vendettas; they’re about mowing down a bunch of strangers in a few minutes at an impersonal long range. 

So here’s my final thought on the topic: We SHOULD tell horror stories about mass shootings. 

It’s a topic that’s timely, and it’s a scenario that’s frightening. There’s no reason not to tell these stories. But to make it work -- on a logistic and socially responsible basis -- we need to change our treatment. 

Going back to the “disaster movie” idea: It’s time to treat mass shooters in fiction as forces of nature, as oblivious and blindly destructive as a hurricane. It’s time to center the focus on the victims. Never mind the killer and what led him to this moment. Let’s take a minute to think about the people caught in that situation -- the people who fear for their lives, who try to help one another, who fight or flee or hide once the first shot is fired. Let’s write about the moments of humanity shared by two strangers crouched behind something while shots fire all around them. Let’s write about the horror of having your perfectly normal, mundane day suddenly and irrevocably shattered by a stranger with a gun. 

There is horror there, real horror, that can be mined and cultivated and turned to art. And it seems to me that embracing that, and shifting the cultural narrative away from valorizing the lone gunman, would be good for art and society. 

Are you ready to tell that story? 

I am. 

[locke-writes]

One Night

Author: locke-writes

Title: One Night

Prompt: She’s A Rebel - Green Day, Bucky Barnes (Musician!Reader x Music Journalist!Bucky AU) For: @thefanficfaerie​ ‘s 3500 follower celebration

Rating; T

Word Count: 3,137

Marvel Taglist: @lotsoffandomimagines​ @lgbtonystarks​

Bucky smiled softly as he watched you in the recording studio. He always enjoyed these moments as they were quite rare. For the most part when you were at home he'd never get to listen to what you'd been working on as you tried to keep full songs a secret. Sometimes he might be asked his opinion on a riff just to help discern if one note sounded better than another for any song you might be working on but you were very much a private person when it came to your songwriting. He found a humor in the fact that this was quite the opposite of you on stage as you'd often tease audiences with bits and pieces of songs currently in the works.

Although he might not admit it out loud Bucky certainly felt that at times he took his position for granted. Not everyone in the world could say they started a company with a friend they'd known since childhood and not everyone could say that it was their job that led them to the love of their life. Bucky always felt he owed it all to fate although Steve had a different opinion on that being part of the reason you and Bucky had met. Bucky stopped his mind from wandering and turned back to the story at hand, jotting down more notes for use when he returned to his office.

Sitting back down in his office Bucky began typing up an outline. He smiled as it felt sort of humorous for him to be writing this particular article. It wasn't just a piece on the anniversary of the your band's debut album or a teaser for the fact that you were working on another to be released later in the year, for him it was partially about the anniversary of when you met, the anniversary of when his life completely changed.

As he was typing he let his mind drift to the first meeting and subsequent thereafter.

The magazine had only been running for six years. It was no Rolling Stone but their readership was growing by the minute what with the fact that they had decided to make it readily available digitally as well as in print an idea that wasn't necessarily revolutionary but did help for availability. Steve had the idea to start the whole thing which Bucky was apprehensive about at first albeit now grateful for Steve pushing him into agreeing. From their apartment originally to now renting out a few floors in Stark Towers they'd risen fast.

Most of what he did on the daily basis was executive work. He didn't hate it but he preferred writing, Steve was more the artist having everything under control when it came to scheduling photoshoots and figuring out who was on the cover every week. Bucky wanted to be the writer, that's really all that he wanted since the start but you own your own company you've got to be the executive. This made the rare moments that either he or Steve got to work on something for themselves and not be stuck in meetings, all the more special. It meant moments where Steve came crashing into Bucky's office, all the more interesting.

"Tell me you don't have plans tonight and mean it." Steve shouted.

"I don't have plans tonight and I mean it" Bucky replied looking up from the outline of future issue topics.

"Good because I need you to take this story off my hands, something came up with one of the photographers and I need to take over which means I won't make this show."

"What's the story?"

"New band on the block, Battering Ram. An indie punk band that's doing a series of club shows in the city before they head on their first US tour. It's their debut album and I scheduled them for an interview. A real, who is the band sort of thing, nothing complex."

"Yeah I mean, have you cleared it with their manager or whoever you've talked to"

"Called him about an hour ago. I figured you'd say yes, told him I'd be giving you my ticket and press pass but that you'd need your name added to the list since it's a sort of, first come first serve show tonight."

Bucky nodded as Steve walked out, he glanced down at the ticket noting that doors opened at 7:30. He knew if anything he should be there at 5 for sound check but he knew it might be better to be there at the start of the show rather than before in an effort to get a real feel for who the band was.

Backstage at the club you were buzzing, excitement running through you. Everything seemed surreal and you couldn't seem to focus on the lyrics you'd been working on. The guitar techs were tuning everything up which meant you couldn't even play a little or work on anything new. You just felt lucky that you weren't the only one who seemed to be a bit nervous and filled with excited energy. Sam was going over the setlist spouting out lyrics as if he'd forget them on stage which you knew had never and probably would never happen. Thor was tossing drumsticks back and forth tapping out a beat on his knees while Nat was organizing and reorganizing all her bass picks.

The album had only been out for a few weeks but it had been gaining traction steadily, something you'd hoped for but never thought possible.

You'd all met through one another, Sam being friends with Thor because they met at some bar when it was open mic night. Nat had been your roommate who knew someone who knew someone who'd gone to college with Thor. None of you could have predicted that you'd hit it off nor that you'd all come together in such a way to form a bad that would actually have some modicum of success.

All of you were nervous in part because you wanted a great show but in part because you knew there was a music journalist coming. Well, not just any music journalist, the Bucky Barnes. You'd been reading the magazine he'd created since day one and now he was coming that night to see the show and interview you all. You just tried to keep your mind on the show all through soundcheck and then when it came time for the actual concert.

Part of Bucky's approach to covering new bands was to never read up on them or listen to anything before the show. He wanted a true first impression, he wanted the music and the stage presence to speak for itself not be built up in his mind because of something he'd already read or heard online. To say he was thrown by the number of people piling out the door was an understatement. The club wasn't large but it wasn't small either and he was sure that there were double the amount of people that the fire department would permit. He gave his name at the door and showed his press pass pushing his way up to the bar to get a better view of the stage.

Pulling out the small notebook that he'd placed in his pocket he began noting the stage. Minimalist was the right word for it. A banner with the band name and the instruments selected for the first song were already on stage. Bucky wondered if there would be more added, if maybe this was just set up for soundcheck earlier and hadn't been changed out. Twenty minutes later after getting caught up in conversation with a few fans who'd agreed to give quotes for the article Bucky was shocked to find that the stage hadn't been changed. This was just how it was going to be.

Sam ran out on stage first as always to introduce the rest of the band. You scanned the crowd looking at the size and you grinned. These were the places you'd first experienced the music that would change your life, you loved the fact that you'd get to share it with a crowd here. Maybe someone in the crowd could be influenced by what happened here on stage. You counted off in your head before strumming the opening chord.

Never in his life would Bucky admit too feeling foolish at the moment he'd first heard Battering Ram play. Never in his life would he admit this to you, but that's exactly what he felt in the first moment when the music washed over him. In that first moment, with that first song, he hated himself for not knowing about the band sooner. Punk was a finicky genre nowadays with a lot of bands trying to recapture early 70's punk but failing to find any originality. But here you all were with this sound that he couldn't quite describe. There were notes of Ramones, Black Flag and even X yet somehow you tossed that all on its head when you launched into a cover of Jolene which was unexpected by himself but apparently on the album as he heard whispers in the crowd of people not certain if that would be played.

He hated the fact that he actually had to judge the show at that moment. He hated it because he wanted to watch, he wanted to listen to opinion. And he wanted specifically to pay attention to you. There was something about you, he couldn't say what, but he was enthralled — entranced — by you. You didn't sing backing vocals like most guitarists, you just played. Sometimes you interacted with the other members of the band but mostly you just seemed to exist almost as a fixture of the crowd itself, either starting or ending the songs. You talked with the crowd, you played riffs of songs not performed and then you melted into the music.

Time was lost and before Bucky realized the encore had been finished you and the band retreated off stage. He slid through the crowd making his way past security to backstage where it was a whirlwind of movement, everyone checking off and packing instruments away. Coughing briefly he made himself known shaking hands. Water was handed out and he began a long line of questioning.

There were good and bad interviews in every reporters life. Sometimes there was little to work with, answers that didn't seem fully formed and no matter what prodding nothing could be produced to fill up the word or page limit that was set. This was a good interview, every member eager to answer questions. Bucky learned everything there was to know, from how everyone started in music to how you met, the horror stories of early gigs and when you realized that you had an audience. He asked about the album, about influences, about who wrote songs and why.

That night he learned you didn't sing because you sounded terrible but you wrote all the songs (a few with help), because lyrics seemed to constantly flow through your head. That night he learned that Sam sang because he'd been forced into choir as an elective in high school and figured out that he actually kinda liked it. He learned that Nat wanted to be a bassist not only because of the small amount of female bassists in the world but because she realized that all her favorite songs had great bass parts. Thor's nickname was the God of Thunder because he had tried and failed miserably to play soft beats on the drums but always gravitated towards the loud booming sound.

Bucky learned a lot that night, including the fact that he knew he wanted to ask you out. Physical attraction certainly didn't hinder what he felt but there was something there, something that he felt when you spoke that he didn't want to stop feeling. He'd ended up lingering backstage that night long after the interview was over, helping out break down the set, grabbing drinks with the band, and suddenly when the night couldn't have gone any better there you were, sliding a piece of paper with your number on it and telling him to text you sometime.

Sometime was later that night when he texted asking if there was any way you had time to grab dinner. You replied not even five minutes later saying that you didn't have a show the next night and was that too soon.

It wasn't too soon, in fact it wasn't soon enough.

Steve teased him the next day when they had a one on one meeting about the show. Bucky sped through the details and rushed straight into the fact that he had a date with you that night. Bucky knew that what Steve said about his inability to focus through the story was true and after Steve had left he began trying to work out just what he was going to say in the article He was pleased that the words seem to flow through him as he began writing but his mind kept wandering. Leaving work that night he practically ran home just to get ready and over to the restaurant to meet you for your date.

The first date.

The last first date either of you would ever have. Although Bucky didn't know it at the time.

Whatever he had felt the night before when talking to you alone, he felt it again when he saw you outside of the restaurant waiting for him. He almost asked you about it though he refrained in case it was something strange, something that you'd find odd. He'd learn later that no, you'd certainly felt it too.

That night you asked him about his arm, something Bucky found easy to speak with you about rather than the sense of fear he felt upon some explanations. You asked him about the magazine and was he terrified in starting it up. You asked him about the big things like where did he see himself in ten years and asked about the little things like his favorite color. He asked you about the band and did you ever think that you would be a musician for the rest of your life. He asked you about the guitars you played and why you continued to play the first guitar you ever owned. He asked you about your childhood and about everything he could think of.

If there wasn't reason to leave like the place closing you could have stayed talking to him forever. That night Bucky kissed you when he took you back to your apartment and if you could see the future through a kiss than you would have seen the rest of your life laid out before you.

Two nights later you had your second date as Bucky figured out when you didn't have shows. What shows you did have he managed to make it too, at one point bringing Steve along for you to meet. Steve didn't bother saying anything about what he saw that night to Bucky but he noted the way you looked at his friend and Steve knew, or at least he had a feeling he hoped was going to be right, that you and Bucky were it for each other.

In the two weeks that you were going to be in the city your time was split between the band and Bucky, not that anyone in the band cared. They saw that Bucky made you happy and they liked him, not just as someone who they approved of but as someone they didn't hate hanging out with. The last night before the tour you and Bucky decided to try and work through the long distance thing. Both of you were nervous but you knew that if you texted and called one another when you could as well as making use of the wonders of Skype dates then maybe everything would come together.

The story was published three weeks after the show where you'd met. Suddenly Battering Ram was climbing the charts and extending the tour from six months to seven. Bucky was disappointed it would be another month he'd have to wait to see you but he didn't care because he'd wait a lifetime for you. He told you this when you Skyped him to give him the news and all you could do was smile. Part of you felt like you were rushing into something with Bucky but another part of you felt like this was what you had wanted for your entire life whether you'd been aware of it our not.

He ended up meeting you at the airport when you landed after the last show of the tour. Dropping you off at your apartment he ended up staying the weekend. At the end of that weekend he ended up asking if you wanted to get an apartment together. You said yes.

Three days was the amount of time before you decided to live together and three months was the amount of time it took before Bucky decided to propose. He didn't have a ring, he didn't have a plan, in fact he didn't even know he was going to ask before he did. You were on the couch eating dinner and watching Netflix while he was in the kitchen grabbing a drink for you, you laughed at some joke and then the words were out there in the air. You were stunned and he was stunned but he repeated the words anyway, this time more sure of himself because he knew that this was exactly what he wanted.

That electric feeling that blew through him the first time you met, the feeling that coursed through his veins every time he kissed you. He didn't want to stop having that feeling. It felt surreal to him that you'd said yes to a first date, to a second, and to getting married. It felt surreal when the wedding was over and there was a ring on his finger, it felt surreal that you were his and he was yours for the rest of his life. It was something that Bucky would never take for granted.

Bucky saw a notification pop up on his phone, just you letting him know you were picking up dinner and asking if he wanted his usual from the Chinese place by the studio. He quickly sent back a reply and put the finishing touches on the story before sending it off to Steve to review and heading out of the office.

This was his life now, one he would never change for anything in the world. He had a job he loved, friendship he would never take for granted and most importantly. Bucky had 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.

[quanf99]

Sovereign Citizens, and the Definitely Not Real Global Domination Pandemic

It was 12:40am when I got out of bed to check my mail box, behind yet another fridge magnet from Josh Frydenberg was a postcard from the Protector Party, a political awareness group warning of a ploy by governments to control the masses through the current coronavirus pandemic, or something along those lines. The Protector Party are tied to the resurgence of sovereign citizens, members of society who believe they may choose exemption from the laws of society, a right supposedly outlined in the Magna Carta. While fringe political beliefs have always floated around, they're gaining traction in Australia after strict lock down laws imposed by the Andrews government. I was familiar with such ideas, but this was the first time I'd encountered said ideas in my mail box. I decided to look into sovereign citizenry some more, who were they? And what gave them the right to leave insane post cards in my mail box?

For many residents of Melbourne, Dan Andrews tough lockdown laws herald the rise of an all-powerful authoritarian state. These laws have made it illegal for people to visit other households, or leave home past 8pm, they force Melbournians to wear face masks when leaving home. Democracy is truly at threat when I can't order from the McDonalds drive-thru at 12am. Fighting on the frontlines against totalitarianism is a group calling themselves sovereign citizens or, Freeman of the Land. Freemen argue that laws only apply to corporations, which on their terms include the government. Birth certificates are a contract with the government as corporation and only apply to a person if he or she consents to it. This sort of imaginary legal argument has existed long before the coronavirus  pandemic and Dan "Stalin" Andrews' lockdown, cropping up whenever somebody gets summoned to court for unpaid driving tickets. Recently these pseudo-legal ideas have gained traction via Facebook groups. Through social media, thousands of middle-aged Australians are rallying behind the cause, who else will defend our rights to get pissed in the backyard on a Friday night. I thought I'd join one of these groups to get a read on the sovereign citizens. I found one group, Truth and the Unknown - Australia, it tends to focus on conspiracy theories in general but has recently shifted to uncovering the facts regarding coronavirus. The discussion surrounding the pandemic comes from livestreams of really intelligent looking people explaining to audiences that, coronavirus is not a virus, that even if it was viruses can't be caught by body, that coronavirus mortality rate is so low, no one should be worried even if they do catch it, despite 894 people dying in Australia. Unsurprisingly almost all of the information posted in Truth and the Unknown - Australia, contains no sources backing up any of the information provided. Discussion then shifts to memes explaining how 5G internet connections weaken the body making it more susceptible to coronavirus, a virus that isn't actually a virus, and even if it was you can't catch it. Further down the rabbit hole, GMO foods, vaccines causing autism, Rockefellers and Freemasons, government ties to Satanic cults and Bohemian Grove. All of this was mildly funny and maybe a little disturbing, but I was having trouble finding any concrete political ideas from any of these sovereign citizens. I decided to get in contact with the man who first sent me down this rabbit hole, that's when I got in touch with John Tiger Casley, leader of the Protector Party. Mr Casley is an older man, he speaks in old Australian figures of speech which find a balance somewhere between endearing and condescending, responding to you with phrases like "Alright young fella". Mr Casley used to be a history teacher, he now resides in Brighton presumably retired, spending his time making YouTube videos and sending people weird post cards. I asked "What do you think the end goal supposedly is for this deep state?" to which he replied "I believe their goal is psychopathic humanoid control over human bodies via violent injections and 5G, as well as human perception through media propaganda and AI." Q: Do you think this current climate of politics, sovereign citizens, and a general openness to these ideas will result in positive changes to politics in Australia? J: I believe it depends on the amount of human power given away to the Psychopathic Humanoids in JFK's Monolithic Conspiracy, although I've never known opportunity for political engagement to be higher. Q: How did you first become aware of things like, JFK's Monolithic Conspiracy? J: I began reading, gratefully, the logic, evidence, experiences and suffering of the most amazing mind of this century - David Icke's. While my interview with Mr Casely was interesting it revealed little in the way of concrete political beliefs, again it felt more like I was hearing a conspiracy theory check list be ticked off, rather than any solid politics. I decided to look into David Icke afterwards. Icke is a former football player from the UK, who writes about an inter-dimensional race of reptilians who run the Illuminati and have hijacked the Earth. These reptilians are known as the Anunnaki, ancient Sumerian deities of the Underworld. Again the formula for these ideas feels tried and true, pick an ancient pre-Judeo Christian deity (preferably from Mesopotamia) and center them around a secret shadow government conspiracy to rule the world. Whether its democrats sacrificing babies to Moloch, or underground Illuminati lizard men, the pattern feels obvious. Next I spoke to Zac Galloway, a practicing lawyer with a law degree from University of Tasmania. After moving to Melbourne a few years back, Mr Galloway has become active in promoting the truth about the pandemic through platforms like Facebook. I figured Mr Galloway would have to be well educated if he was a practicing lawyer, and should be able to back up his views better than the average Facebook conspiracy theorist. Q: I'm interested to know, are you connected to any particular groups or organisations? Mr Galloway: I'm not connected with any organisations, although I do follow a few Facebook pages where people share and spread information. I don't believe everything that gets spread in these groups and take most of it with a grain of salt however. Q: Do you believe the virus is real? Or a ploy by the government towards some other agenda? Z: I believe the virus is real but our perception of it is far from the truth. There seems to be overwhelming evidence the virus was man made and originated in a laboratory. Whether this was done intentionally doesn't matter as much to me, I think there's a clear agenda from government worldwide involving mass control and surveillance of the population. Q: Have friends and family been receptive to your message, or do you find a lot of push back regarding your ideas? Z: I find a mix of responses, I've got many people who message me frequently to show support, wishing they were brave enough to speak up. Q: What do you think the rising trend of belief in the sovereign citizen movement says about Australia's current political climate? Z: I think it shows that people are willing to stand up for their rights which to me is a no brainer. There's a very slippery slope between freedom and tyranny and when people voluntarily give up their rights so easily I become gravely concerned. To me it is good that people are willing to stand up for their rights. Although I think much of what he said was shaky at best I was glad someone could give me answers beyond vague gestures to Moloch and vaccines. I don't want to give Mr Galloway too much credit though, perhaps there's something even more troubling in the way he dresses up blatant disregard for the social contract as 'logical reasoning'. It can be harder to discredit arguments about Daniel 'Karl Marx' Andrews using coronavirus hysteria to destroy the economy, when they have more formal validity. And one can't avoid the irony of someone who supports sovereign citizenry, utilising his institutionally given power to practice the law. Regardless of the validity behind  any of the ideas I've gone over here, these ideas and their rising popularity represent something more troubling, perhaps more disappointing. It's undeniable that society is structured to segregate the common person from the powerful, while every day people are led along by the false promise of enough hard and honest work, those born into wealth use loop holes to consolidate their position on the throne. There are plenty of legitimate reasons to be mistrusting of governments and those in power, reasons that don't have anything to do with mass mind control, vaccines, 5G towers or ancient sub-terranean lizard people. I spoke to Dr Lauren Rosewarne, cultural commentator and lecturer at Melbourne University. Q: Do you think the popularity of the sovereign citizen movement ties in with the rise of conspiracy theories coming closer to public consciousness? Things like the death of Jeffrey Epstein, or Russian interference in the 2016 U.S. Elections? Dr Rosewarne: Sovereign citizens are nothing new in Australia. The internet however, has enabled them to connect, recruit and have a public platform for their views thus giving them greater visibility. Q: Do you think the rising visibility of such a platform, and these sorts of fringe political ideas in general, might suggest deeper political unrest in society? L: I'd be more inclined to say that Covid serves as a rallying cry for these people in a way that few previous events have. Whether that persists as unrest in a post-Covid world, only time will tell. When people take up these conspiracy theories, its disappointing to see how close to the nerve they hit, clearly something larger than everyday people puts us on an uneven playing field. Why then, do we look for answers beyond the real quantifiable structural devices that shape society? There are many complex reasons, the simplest one being that its much easier, much less ambiguous to imagine some sinister, wholly evil force is pulling things behind the scenes. It's easy to laugh at conspiracy theorists, a lot of the things I've seen people post are honestly insane. However, I think it's worth remembering too, that when people start believing these theories, a part of them must recognise the way things are really stacked against us, and from that place maybe we can hope that more people are on the path to greater political consciousness. Or who knows, maybe the democrats really do drink the blood of newborns in exchange for eternal youth.

[bardic-charm]

Your Hand In Mine

My experiment with the idea of reincarnation

Pt. 1/?

~~~

It is a nameless large town on the outskirts of a dense old and larger surrounding forest that a man with golden eyes comes to. Monsters bayed for blood nightly, and any life lost was a greater toll on the community than they could bear. No one could play the part of a hero without the horrors of reality setting in with disastrous consequences. So they had sent for a witcher.

Too many monsters, too little information. He will stay for as long as they were willing to house him in any of the inns, and a lone musician eyes him curiously as he is lead to the grandest one a town could provide. It is a curious thing that his heart should twist just so at the knowledge that this stranger would be residing in the same place his lodgings were. It must just be simple curiosity that compells his want to be nearer.

The musician- the man, had never left this place. Born and raised here until he could work out a deal with the innkeepers to pester the steady stream of travelers for their stories followed by their coin for the songs he would create for their amusement.

No such revelry tonight, even when his fingers itch to play against silent and still lute strings. The ranks of the creatures had been closing in, inevitably leading to the end of new patrons coming, or even the ones that had trekked this far to leave again.

"How did he even manage to get here? And for that matter, how will he get out again alive."

The table he shares with another weary gentleman, by the name of Deval, as they eat the evenings meal has otherwise been silent, but his chosen topic of conversation seems to perk him up, as well as the surrounding ears.

"The brute strength of a witcher is enough to surpass any man, you know this boy."

Did he?

"He's got the exact amount of cunning and force that it'll take to bring this town back from the darkness it's set itself into, I should hope."

"It takes a monster to kill a monster, you know," Interjects the usually surly barkeep, as some odd form of agreement. And he knows that the man means well. Knows that he only means to speak to be heard, and contribute to the conversation that is gaining traction throughout the room.

But something in him twitches in irritation.

"He's not a monster, Rhondson."

"Well he isn't human," another patron snorts out in quick retort, "Though that doesn't mean he hasn't traveled with them as companions before," a musing that gets lost into the next sip of her ale.

To be so easily rebuked, he can feel himself bristling, irritation prepared to build and lead to-

"I'm only here to do my job."

What could have been anger is quickly overtaken by surprise when the witcher himself gestures silently to the open seat across from him, meal in hand, and he nods with an unexpected burst of happiness that comes from the quiet request to join.

Deval raises his ale in a wayward welcome, and the man returns it with his own and it is silent except for the bursts of smaller conversations happening around them that he had inadvertently started. Guilt pools into his stomach with the snatches of sentences he can make out, watching as the other man merely resigns himself to a quiet meal.

"I'm sorry," he blurts suddenly, giving his table companions pause, "about what everyone else is talking about. I started it because I was curious and asking questions that I didn't think anyone would really answer- you see it's really quite dangerous as of late, and these days with fewer travelers there's not much news to go around, and you coming here is a fantastic occurrence really, it's the best thing that could happen to us even if some people still can't seem to drive that into their own thick skulls and," he swallows, taking a pause, "I'm sorry."

Deval pats him on the shoulder before giving another nod to the other, walking away with the parting words, "It's good to have you here master witcher."

And the witcher is left to stare at him in quiet contemplation, and he resists the urge to look away, instead studying him in turn.

Golden eyes, easily spotted and drawing his attention again and again, even as he takes in grayed hair that surely must be a stark white under all of that dirt and dried mystery substance. There are bags under his eyes, and his rigid posture only adds to the exhaustion that he can imagine the other must be feeling. His gazing lands upon the other man's hands, curled carefully atop the table, wondering about the calluses that he knew would be there if he just reached across the space between them.

In the face of all he'd said, he only tilts his head to ask, "Do you know who I am?"

He blinks, looking up again.

"Well, of course. You're the witcher, the white wolf? Geralt of Rivia."

That answer earns him a nod, as if that was all he was expecting. The songs about him were well known across the continent, it would be strange for any bard worth his music to not know of him. As it should be, a little voice whispers in the back of his mind.

"And your horse's name is Roach."

That at least, seems to surprise him, surprise them both really, but he doesn't feel bothered, not with the faint smile and nod the Geralt sends his way.

"How do I know that?" Is all he mutters with a small shake of his head, "Must have overheard the stablehand," he thinks aloud.

The witcher only hums.

"And you are?"

"Julian." No last name given. "My name is Julian, but my friends call me Jaskier."

Something niggles at the back of his mind, and it is only then that he remembers the former companion of the great Geralt of Rivia, the one whom he'd shared a name, and he cringes.

Even still, he earns another soft smile, and the sight of the others shoulders relaxing.

"It's nice to meet you Jaskier."

[bestsuccessstories]

STORY 1

TRUE SUCCES STORY OR “OUT OF THE WOODS”

When you decide to hunt your dream, sometimes you may feel like Prince Charming.You have to go into the dark woods alone, get lost, then climb to the tallest treetop to actually see your path (Prince Charming, as well as success hunters is not provided with a map)Afterwards, it is required to defeat several very wicked withes and train your dragon, meanwhile, the magic volcano continues erupting behind you.Only after these entertaining activities have finished could he have an entire Kingdom in addition with a pretty Princess.

Yes, a way to your dream can be covered with fear and doubt.That’s why  very important to remind yourself, that this road dotted with mountains will lead you to the most beautiful destination you have ever seen and the harder your path is, the more beautiful view you will admire in the end.What truly helps success hunters, is an example of those, who managed to get out of the darkest woods and made come true the most impossible dream (leaving all very wicked witches and dragons crying behind).

This is a story like that (a real story of a successful company, try to find out the name in the end)

Once upon a time, two success hunters decided to completely change their routine and moved to San Francisco, ready to realise their dream. As it should be, when your dream is big enough, there are always difficulties arising.Without employment, it was quite hard to pay the rent and they were looking for a way to earn some extra money.They noticed that all hotel rooms in the city were booked, as the local Industrial Design conference attracted a lot of visitors.

True success hunters always sees the opportunity in every difficulty.Our heroes bought a few airbeds and put up a website. The idea was to offer visitors a place to sleep and breakfast in the morning. They succeeded and the first guests were sleeping on their floor (a 30-year-old Indian man, a 35-year-old woman from Boston and a 45-year-old father of four from Utah)

After they had those guests, they did nothing for about four months.There were no more bookings through their website, so they didn’t think the ‘airbed thing’ would work and they decided to came up with another idea.They were trying to build a roommate matching website.It supposed to be Craigslist meets Facebook, for roommates with profiles. Then one day they typed roommates into Google and realised that someone had already built that site. And this was about four weeks after they started working on it.

The main secret of all success hunters is that their dreams are bigger than any obstacles, so they kept working and returned to the original idea. Deciding to stick with the ‘airbed thing’ they found a corder and a third success hunter got to their team.

The major problem was that the site only had two users, one of them was its co-founder. First time they launched at SXSW(Conference & Festivals celebrate the convergence of the interactive, film, and music industries), and only received two bookings(almost a year they had original idea). They built three versions of a website.There is a saying: if you launch and no-one notices that, just launch again so they did.

By the third version it was the Demographic National Convention, all the hotels in Denver were sold out.They decided that was a right time to do a big launch. Barack Obama was coming to Denver, and 80,000 people were expected to visit, but there were only 27,000 hotel rooms.That weekend their website received 80 bookings. The weekend after, they received no bookings.

The same pattern repeated itself for months. They got to about 30,000$ in credit card debt. Our success hunters would go and get credit cards and max them out, and then they would keep getting more credit cards until the bank stopped giving them to our heroes. They were tens of thousands of dollars in debt.

Everybody thought they were crazy, no-one supported them, they had no money. One of our hunters would wake up in the morning and have a panic (Later, he admitted that it was the best weight lost program ever, he probably lost 20 pounds) Every morning he felt his heart pounding, but over the course of the day he would convince himself that everything is going to work out fine (I’ve got a plan, it’s all good-affirmation, he highly recommends) and by the night he would go to bed really confident. The next day, there was like a receipt button and every morning started with panic again.

The day they launched, they had a meeting with a well known investor.There site was down, they didn’t bring a slide deck and that wasn’t a super successful pitch.“It was mostly me and him staring at each other for an hour and he did not invest” will say one of our hunters a couple years later in the interview.

They reached about 20 investors about 15 even didn’t reply to their emails.

They managed to organise another meeting in the cafe.In the middle of the conversation, their potential investor gets up and leaves (that was the last time they have seen him).

They were in debt and trying to figure out how to pay the rent, after the convention they returned back to zero.They built a website, spend a year on it and no-one using it, no one want to come or list their homes because there were no travellers, no traveler want to come to the website where there are no homes.No one wants to be the first person to try the idea like this.Most people thought that was insane.

People around them were receiving funding and developing their companies. The story of our hunters was nothing like that, but they kept working when most people would give up.Very well-known fact (every success hunter must follow) that if you don’t believe in yourself, pretend that you do and, at some point you will.

One night, they were thinking how they are going to pay the rent and keep the company working. They had an idea to provide a breakfast to people going to Demographic National Convention. They were thinking that would be nice to have  a branded breakfast like cereal and they came up with idea Obama’s O’s and Cap’n McCain’s cereals. The front of the box was stamped with “Hope In Every bowl” and on the back it called itself the “Breakfast of Change.” The side of the Cap’n McCain’s box sang the praise of eating squares (Os may look pretty, but have you ever noticed there’s something missing? That’s right, there’s a hole in the middle of every O. With Cap’n McCain’s you get a whole piece of cereal in every bite).They called local cereal companies which said ‘Great, we would like to work with you, all we need is non-refundable deposit’(which was a huge amount of money for young startup)

Another one success hunter’s statement claims that when one door closes, another opens. Finally, they meet a guy who has got a print shop (not a cereal company).He wanted to help and said that he could print a 1000 examples for free (If you succeed and sell this, just give me the royalty).They were literally assembling these boxes in their kitchen (thousand boxes assembling with hot glue).Sitting on the kitchen, they were wondering whether Marc Zukemberg was assembling cereal boxes when he first launched Facebook (unlikely). Was that a good or a bad sign?

So, they had to fold a thousand boxes, pack cereal in them, and sell them for 40 dollars a box. They thought, ‘who is going to pay 40 dollars a box’ but they were limited edition, and they ended up selling about US$30,000 worth of this cereal. But the money they earned only went so far, and in November 2008 the company was broke once more. It got to the point where one of the success hunter’s mother called him and said, ‘look, if you need money I will send you. You don’t need to have strangers in your home to make money’. This was the moment when he started to question the decisions he made in life to get him here. He didn’t felt successful, or smart, or talented. He only felt that the world was against him.

It was a time they decided to enter famous startup accelerator Y Combinator. When they met Paul Graham ( co-founder of Y Combinator),first question he asked was ‘people are doing this?’. They told yes, and he replied,’what’s wrong with them?’ (In the end the interview he thinks it’s the worst idea ever). About to live, they handed him a box of Obama O’s and he said,’if you convince people to buy a box of cereal for 40$, maybe you will convince them to stay in another people’s rooms’. So he let them to Y-Combinator. The company spent the first three months of 2009 at the accelerator, working on perfecting their product.

Over the course of 2010, the site’s weekly revenue doubled. Then it doubled again.They renamed the company and soon received another $600k in a seed round from Sequoia Capital and Y Ventures.

However, not everyone was as impressed with company’s business model.Even during Y Combinator, they still got rejected by investors.The young startup was turned down by Fred Wilson and Union Square Ventures—a decision he now admits wasn’t a good one (in 2011 Union Square kept a box of Obama O’s in their conference room to remind themselves not to make the same mistake again).

Also, the website wasn’t gaining much traction in New York, so our hunters flew out and booked spaces with 24 hosts to figure out what the problem was. As it turned out, users weren’t doing a great job of presenting their listings (the photos were really bad, people were using camera phones).There were no bookings because users couldn’t see what they were paying for. Success hunters got used to challenges, so they found a solution.They rented a $5,000 camera, planning to take professional pictures of as many New York listings as possible and by the end of the month startup’s revenue in the city had doubled.That’s gave them an idea to launch a photography program (hosts could automatically schedule a professional photographer to come and photograph their space).

Four years after the first air mattress guests, company was already in 89 countries. It also won the break-out mobile app award at SXSW (and that’s after its lukewarm launch at the festival in 2008).The same year, one of the valley’s biggest VCs put $112 million into the startup, valuing it at over $1 billion. That made company  a “unicorn” in Silicon Valley.

After years of doubts, debt and disappointment, success hunters came out of the dark woods and showed the world what the true success supposed to mean. In 2011 startup closed a US$112 million round of venture funding. Three years later, it received US$475 million more. In 2015, it collected another US$1.6 billion dollars in the financing alone.

Company has  reached a US$25.5 billion valuation. That makes it bigger than Hilton Worldwide, InterContinental Hotels Group, or any other hotel chain on the planet Earth.

Our success hunters are famous not only for disrupting an industry, changing the game in hospitality, and generated billions of dollars in revenue for themselves, and their users.The main thing, is that they gave a faith to young people all over the world.They showed us, that no matter how huge is your dream, it can become reality. No matter how difficult and hopeless your situation is, it’s all going to work out in the end if you will keep trying. Because every failure brings you closer to success.When you stop believe you actually could reach the top, remember, it always seems impossible until it’s done (Then, you can write a manual called ‘Through the dark woods’ which could help future generations).

You don’t need a supernatural power or a pixie dust to make your dream come true, just be desperate for success and success will be desperate for you, this will be a mutual love in the end. As you know Fortune, is a Lady and Ladies requires dedication.So she will need some time to check whether you are ready to keep going when things will get harder (definitely they will, because very wicked withes are payed well to do their job)but if you show a bit of persistence, she will become your Godmother.You always will hear her kind voice whispering to your year and lightening up your way in the dark woods when very wicked witches will try to lead your astray.

So be it

P.S.You probably guess that the company name was Airbnb and success hunters that inspires us are:Brian Chesky ,Joe Gebbia, Nathan Blecharczyk

[minas-writing]

Blinking and Screaming

World: misc original superhero world

Length: 2,500 words

Summary: Blink is the villain and Scream is the hero. Unfortunately, the city has it backwards. A major villain decided to visit, and the two were forced to team up, but Scream got hurt in the process. Now Blink is struggling with Emotions. (It gets better as it goes, I promise!)

TW: hospitals, pain

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Blink murmured. The bleeps and blips of monitors were fading into the background as she focused on the person in front of her.

He was just a touch older than she was. Without the mask that barely hid anything, without the brightly-colored jumpsuit and flowing cape, the notorious Scream was a skinny kid with curly brown hair. It was his innocuous appearance that let Blink carry him to the hospital without problems. She had claimed he was a casualty of the fight, which was just a tiny bit misleading. Well, it wasn't exactly Blink's fault that people would assume he was an innocent bystander.

Blink shut her eyes tightly, refusing to let the tears fall. How she could be mistaken for the city's hero escaped her understanding, much less how Scream had been vilified as its villain. She thought she was the perfect picture of evil - bat wings, powers of darkness, lilac-tinted skin - while Scream was practically the good guy superhero. Then she'd botched a bank robbery, marching in on her hired hitmen and telling them to let their hostages go. Every time Blink remembered that incident, she cringed a little inside. Those guys had known what they were doing. She could have gotten over her reluctance to keep hostages and risk people's safety. It wasn't Scream's fault that he judged the situation accurately. It wasn't fair that his power was particularly destructive, if effective.

That same power had been invaluable to their combined efforts against The Wranglian, who had been legitimately attacking their city. Blink didn't really want to feed the populace's adoring opinions of her, but more than that, she didn't want them to get hurt. Her and Scream's goals had aligned there, so they worked together. "Just this once," they said, but Blink had actually been surprised to see how well they worked together.

The room's door opened with a loud clunk, admitting a young woman in scrubs who checked on Scream's monitors. She seemed startled to see Blink there, but did an admirable job of ignoring her, just like she would any other visitor. Or so Blink assumed. She didn't exactly want to look up and watch the nurse. Having eyes on you constantly was unnerving, as Blink well knew. She couldn't go anywhere without being stared at.

"Do you know when he'll wake up?" Blink asked suddenly. At least her voice didn't sound too hoarse.

To the nurse's credit, she did try to meet Blink's eyes. "His injuries aren't too major, so we're taking him off the sedatives. He'll be awake in half an hour, though groggy and incoherent, but that should fade given another half hour. We'll likely keep him at least overnight."

"Thanks."

"My pleasure, Miss Blink." The nurse left. Her news took a load off Blink's conscience. She slumped forward to put her elbows on her knees and ran her fingers through her unraveling ponytail. The wayward strands reminded her that she hadn't had a chance to clean up since the fight. Would Scream feel guilty that she had gotten roughed up, too? Probably. Even if Blink cleaned up, he would feel bad that he had been out for so long. Nothing she did would tell him that it was fine that he had been injured.

So Blink stood and made her way to the tiny bathroom inside the room. She was a mess, she thought when she saw the mirror. There wasn't much she could do right now, but she did manage to clean up her ponytail and wash the dirt from her face. Blink peeled her long gloves off and hung them on the towel rod so they could dry, then washed her hands. A surprising amount of dirt came from her arms.

She knew she was stalling, but Blink went back to her chair and took her boots off anyway. No harm in stalling. Finally, when Blink had stared at the floor for at least ten minutes, she couldn't put it off any longer. She unzipped a hidden pocket and took out a tiny bundle of folded metal pieces. When it lay flat, the screen had a single thin border and was as large as many television sets, but it didn't have to be that big. Blink unfolded the screen to a comfortable size, then powered it up. The link to the Blink Away website was saved right on her homepage. Why had she done that, she wondered, annoyed.

When the website had begun gaining traction, Blink had reserved a username on the forum section, though she very rarely used it. Somehow, word had gotten out that @officialblink was actually the real Blink, and so people had begun tagging the name in things. It had really discouraged her at first, realizing that most people considered her some sort of anti-hero, one who would occasionally run rampant but do the right thing in the end. But eventually, Blink grew to tolerate the website, though she refused to contribute. She had a feeling that anything she said would be twisted by the adoring public.

Currently, people were frantically discussing the fight Blink had just gotten Scream out of. It looked like they thought that Scream had recruited The Wranglian. Amateur videos, shot directly with screens, confirmed that The Wranglian went down with a wall of darkness while he was distracted by Scream. As The Wranglian fell, however, he lashed out with one of his extra, noodley limbs and caught Scream in the back. Both of them dive-bombed toward the earth, Blink in hot pursuit. That's when the videos ended, content that the fight was over and their "hero" had won.

The villain had been defeated, but the people of the city still didn't know the actual dynamics of the two powerful people they were used to. They just rolled on their assumptions. Blink sneered at one particularly obnoxious comment: "blink rrulez guys lol"

A new notification popped up on the screen - a news station was currently showing something about the fight. Blink hesitated to connect. She made sure the sound was off and turned on the subtitles so she didn't bother Scream.

A pretty reporter stood outside the demolished stadium where it had all gone down. Blink watched with a growing scowl as the reporter rattled off damages. Luckily, from what Blink could tell, the only people hurt were The Wranglian and Scream, but they had cost the stadium, and city, millions. And she couldn't do anything to help.

That thought made Blink pause. Did she want to help? A deep, cold horror began to swell somewhere in her chest. Yes, she did kind of want to help. Blink cursed her luck. She couldn’t be a very effective bad guy if she cared too much about property damage! She could justify caring about hurting people, but property damage? Blink rolled her eyes and shut the news off.

She didn’t care about property damage. It created construction jobs, which stimulated the economy and definitely helped out a few people. And the fight had likely scared off any other real villains who had been eyeing the city. So. This was all a good thing, especially because the only injury was skinny little Scream.

Blink abruptly shut off her screen and folded it back up. Sure, it was a good thing that there had really only been the one big injury, but Blink really wished that nobody had been hurt at all. She and Scream had tried so hard to keep that from happening. Unfortunately... The memory of that moment ran through Blink’s head again. She’d seen The Wranglian’s tentacle whip out as if in slow motion, and saw the trajectory. Her wings weren’t well suited to abrupt maneuvers, though, and it had taken a split second too long to change direction. Blink had been grazed by the tentacles before, but neither of them had actually been hit by one. She could only imagine how that would feel.

In the hospital bed, Scream groaned. Blink froze, wondering if perhaps she should hide, but it was already too late for that. He’d seen her. He inhaled deeply through his nose, as if he was going to try to use his power.

After a split-second to decide, Blink leaned over and slapped her hand over Scream’s mouth.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said firmly and quietly. “As far as the hospital knows, you’re just a civilian, ‘kay? No point in changing that - you know they hate Scream for some stupid reason.”

Scream narrowed his dazed eyes. He was still under the influence of drugs, though hopefully he was coherent enough to understand her. After a protracted moment, he nodded, and Blink retracted her hand.

“What happened?” he asked reluctantly, his voice breathless.

“The Wranglian hit you with a tentacle,” Blink replied softly, scowling when Scream winced and put a hand to his torso. “According to the doctors, you don’t have any major injuries, not really. Some torn-up skin on your back, mostly. They want to keep you here until tomorrow, just to be sure. We don’t know what kind of damage The Wranglian could do.”

Slowly, Scream nodded. “I can’t believe we did that. What do people think about it?”

“Ugh.” Blink sighed and put her head down in exasperation. “Most people seem to think that Scream and The Wranglian were working together. They saw Scream go down a moment before The Wranglian did, so they’re not expecting to see him anymore.”

Scream’s face showed complete and utter resignation. “I’m never getting through to them, am I?”

“I’ve been trying, believe me,” Blink replied wryly. She almost smiled.

Scream grinned at that, then coughed, which turned into more than one and lasted far too long for Blink’s taste. When it had subsided, Scream laid there for a moment, then stuck out a hand.

“It seems an introduction is in order, oh mighty hero,” he said, a touch of sarcasm coloring his voice. “I’m Gavin.”

With a touch of suspicion, Blink returned the gesture. “Lucille,” she replied, using her real name for reasons she couldn’t quite articulate. “Is there anybody we should contact?”

Scream - well, Gavin - did his best to shrug. He winced at the action. “Not really. I live with a roommate but he rarely notices I’m gone. We have separate lives. We’ve got to, for me to have any chance at saving people.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world for doing that,” Blink said. “Well, doing the opposite of that, I guess.”

“Just one more reason that heroes get the short end of the stick.”

At that, Blink did laugh, though it wasn’t long. “Short end of the stick, huh? Come on, Gavin. You can go shopping without people staring at you. You can have a normal conversation with normal strangers. There’s a reason I pay other people to do things for me!”

Gavin was quiet for a moment, his eyes deep and calculating. “You know, I never thought about it that way. Maybe you’ve got enough short-endedness to be a hero, too.”

“Me? A hero?” Blink scoffed. She gestured to her wings, to her horns, to her lilac-colored skin. “Forget about it. I was created to be a villain. Look at me - wouldn’t a hero look a little more like a unicorn or something? A little less frightening?”

“I think you’re pretty,” Gavin said, then quickly blushed. “I - I mean - um, drugs.”

Blink blushed, too, though she shrugged it off the best she could. “Uh huh. Sure. Drugs. One thing’s for sure - I am not a hero, nor do I have any desire to become one.”

“Really?” Gavin sounded doubtful, though the smirk on his face indicated that he was teasing her. “You teamed up with me, the real hero, to fight The Wranglian, a real, big bad villain. I’d say there’s some hero in you yet.”

“Never!” Blink protested. “Look, The Wranglian was a one-time thing. This is my city, other villains don’t have a right to come in. It’s in the official Villain’s Code of Conduct. The Wranglian broke it, meaning that if there were villains in the cities around us, they’d have come in to put him down, too. It’s my right and responsibility as the villain of the city!”

Gavin coughed again through a laugh. It sounded painful, but he didn’t draw attention to it. Blink stood anyway to get him one of those large hospital bottles of water. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” he managed to get out after a few desperate gulps of water.

Blink didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. She just took the water back when he was done and put it on a table that he could reach if he wanted it again.

Surprisingly, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was almost downright companionable, although Gavin still had a far-off look in his eyes that indicated that the drugs weren’t completely gone. Blink just tried not to think about anything at all. Gavin’s earlier words had just a touch too much of a truth to them. He broke the silence a moment later with a guilty voice.

“Sorry to make you deal with this,” he said dully. He wouldn’t meet Blink’s surprised gaze.

“Sc - Gavin - no.” Blink was about to veer into sappy territory about how he didn’t need to worry about it, how she would have done that for anyone, especially her only sort-of friend - but she realized soon enough that it wouldn’t help her cause. She was not a nice hero, dang it!

Blink tried again. “Look, you’re the hero. You lose, but you have to be there to make the fight mean something. And you do stand for good, and that’s not a bad thing - ” She was still losing this fight. Gavin was giving her a weird, knowing look. “Hey! Don’t look at me like that! You did good fighting, that’s all. I was confused.”

“Would you have left me there if you’d had a chance to think about it? Instead of bringing me here?”

It took Blink a moment to compose herself. Her instinct was to say no, definitely not, I couldn’t have left you in the rubble, but of course she couldn’t tell him that. He was trying to coerce her to do good things. So Blink looked away from his eyes, and his face, and his too-pale, skinny body that had been hurt partly because of her, and lowered her voice into something predatory. “Yes. Yes, I would have.”

Now the silence was awkward. It stretched. Blink wanted to apologize and take back her words, but knew she couldn’t say anything, couldn’t glance at him. He’d look at her, upset, and she didn’t want to see betrayal on his face. Even if he probably knew she was lying.

So Blink collected her things and walked to the door, not once looking back at Scream.

“I’m your first contact here. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” She opened the door, and just before it closed, she heard his weak little voice reply.

“Bye, Lucille.”

Blink shut her eyes and walked down the hallway, avoiding the carefully not-staring stares of everybody in the hospital.

[skycrystal23]

Markus x Leader!Reader pt. 6

Prepare for Battle

PART ONE  PART TWO  PART THREE  PART FOUR  PART FIVE 

Summary: The Reader gears up and heads out on a mission in order to save Markus and the other Androids from being murdered by Perkins and his soldiers. 

Characters: Reader, Markus RK200, James (OC), Sara (OC) 

Warnings: A worried Reader 

Words: 2140 approx. 

     You learned from chatter over social media that they were at Hart Plaza. It was being broadcasted worldwide. You needed help, you hated to admit it, but you couldn’t get there by yourself. The military was surrounding the place and there was no chance they would let anyone, not even a civilian in there. Detroit was under a curfew, drones flying around and the military sweeping the streets for deviants. It was disgusting what they were doing. The taxi dropped you off at the factory. A lot of your group was still there watching and waiting. 

     Everything and everyone halted when you burst through the side door and into the gutted factory. It was like time had stopped. That was when the yelling and the bombardment of questions began. Humans and Androids alike wanted to know what you wanted them to do. You pushed through the crowd and climbed up onto one of the Cyberlife shipping crates that a group of yours had stolen from the docks. “Quiet.” You said as they crowded around you still shouting. “QUIET!” You shouted. Everyone fell silent instantaneously. You rolled your shoulders feeling how your wound ached as you did so.      They all watched you, clung onto every expression you made in hopes of providing them with answers. You could see how your rebellion had slightly shrunken – two dozen or so Androids had gone to join Markus on his march. “Look, I know you’re all angry, you’re feeling helpless, and you’re vengeful for those that have been lost recently.” You said loudly, voice carrying across the crowd. “I’m not going to stand here and encourage you to go and throw your life on the line. What I am going to ask, however, is for your help. I need to get into Hart Plaza, only me.” You continued, an uproar began immediately. “Oh, shut up already!” Sara yelled from the crowd.  

       You drew in a deep breath and smiled at your Android friend who winked and nodded for you to continue. They all looked back to you again. “It is likely that you will be the only ones left to fight if what Markus is doing goes wrong. He’s trying to liberate one of the camps and if he,” you paused, “if we manage to do that there will be injured people needing our help and we can’t help if there are none of us here. So, you see, I’m not asking you to fight but I am asking you to prepare to help and to fight if they find you all here.” “If they find us here then those of us that are human – you need to immediately shield those of us who aren’t made of flesh and bone, okay?”    The humans in the crowd nodded. They understood what you meant, so did the Androids. If your group was found then the humans, like yourself, needed to act like a shield. “No!” You looked towards James who was leaning over a pathway hanging above your head. The attention was suddenly drawn to him. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Sara slip out of the crowd and head towards the staircase that led to the pathways that ran over top of the factory. “How dare you say everything you just said and then throw yourself in front of him!” He yelled. “James, stop it.” You warned. “No, he’s done nothing but destroy everything you’ve been trying to do and now you’re going to act as a shield for him? That’s not fair – they’re hunting you as well! They’ll shoot you immediately!” He fired back. “I have to try!” You screamed feeling the corners of your eyes begin to burn.      Markus needed help, you needed to help him. No amount of public endearment was going to save him. As soon as they got the chance, they were going to murder him along with everyone else there. Your people had never seen you so angry before. “Start prepping the infirmary, double-check our blood supply, and check the weaponry,” No one moved, “Now!” You yelled. Everyone jumped and scurried off getting to work. You squatted and sat down on the crate suddenly feeling a wave of nausea.      This was what you got for getting to anxious and stressed while injured. James and Sara came rushing down and over to you. James looked furious and Sara was clutching his arm, lips moving quickly most likely trying to talk him out of whatever he was about to say. “You’re an idiot if you think I’m about to let you leave to go stand with the pigs in line for the slaughterhouse.” He hissed. You knew James wasn’t wrong; what Markus was doing was irrational and not clearly thought through.      It was planned hastily and out of anger for what had happened out of Jericho, he wasn’t thinking clearly which was why you needed to go save him. “Look they don’t care out there, they will shoot and say that you were caught in the crossfire.” He said lowly, his face a scarlet red from pent up anger he was currently unloading onto you. You slid off of the crate and walked past him towards the weaponry. The two of them followed you, James yelling a number of dangers out to you.      You blocked all of it out picking up an automatic rifle and attaching it to a strap and hanging it behind you against your back. The next weapon you picked up was a pistol which you slipped into the waistband of your stiff jeans. “Sara I’m heading out, keep me updated over the phone.” You said heading to the side door you entered through. You were stopped when James grabbed you by the arm holding you back. You turned to face him. “James I’m not –” “Take this, I will walk you through how to sneak into the Plaza via the sewers.” He said dropping an earpiece in your hand.      He stepped back and clasped his hands behind his back giving you a half smile. Sara was stood next to him rubbing his arm up and down in an attempt to comfort him. “Are you sure there’s not anything else we can do?” She asked. “You’re in charge while I’m gone, keep everything and everyone going no matter what happens and if I,” You paused and gulped, “if something happens to me, I want you both to keep everyone safe and lie low for a while until this all calms down.” You whispered.      They nodded and with that you backed up and pushed the side door open slipping out of the factory. One of the new motorcycles that were jacked from the Cyberlife shipping dock was leaning against the wall hidden underneath a black tarp. When you pulled the tarp off the bikes white paint shimmered in the moonlight; Cyberlife logo in glaringly large font on the body of the bike. You hopped on and started it up, engine revving to life. You were glad that the company had advanced the bike enough to allow it to gain traction in the snow. Your next stop was Hart Plaza. The ear piece was fitted into your ear and once you entered the city was when James’ voice patched through. “He’s gone out of their barricade to speak to Perkins.” He informed, you could hear him typing. “Perkins?” You asked. “FBI douchebag Perkins. The one that gave the go ahead to attack the freighter.” He reminded.      Your teeth gritted when he caught your mind up to speed on Perkins. The guy was a douchebag he clearly had never been given any sort of love as a child. You whipped down the corner onto a side street avoiding one of the checkpoints that were up ahead. There were several of them that stood between you and Hart Plaza. “Any idea what Markus is saying?” You asked. “City cameras in the Plaza are offline, I can see if I can gain access to one of them, though you’ll have to give me a few minutes.” He said. “Sounds good.”      You were so close to the Plaza, however, there was one checkpoint that you couldn’t get around. It blocked off the entire street, soldiers pacing back and forth in front of it. There were only four of them. You hopped back on the bike and tightened your grip on the handles before starting it up again. The sound alerted the soldiers but what you did next took them by surprise. “What the hell are you doing?” James yelled in your ear as you sped straight towards the checkpoint.      Instead of slowing down you sped up and kept going. You smirked and leaned down getting as close to the bike as possible. “If I can’t get around them, I’ll just go through them.” You responded. “That is not how you do things!” He yelled.       Just as they pulled out their guns you went through the middle of the checkpoint that wasn’t barricaded. The soldiers dove to the sides to avoid being hit and by the time they climbed back to their feet you were nothing but tire tracks in the snow. You sat back up and turned down the next street. You needed to get as far away from that checkpoint as possible. “The tower parking on your right, go down to the very bottom level.” James instructed. You nodded and slowed down turning into the towering parking lot.      There were several levels to the tall lot, you headed to the very bottom. It was eerie how quiet and empty it was. You hid the bike in the back behind a pillar, rolling your shoulders once again when you climbed off of the bike. “Now what do I do?” You asked looking around the wide-open space. You waited for his response. After a minute you began to worry. The dead silence was worrying. “Sorry. There’s a maintenance door to the far left of where you’re parked, do you see it?” He asked. You looked around, your eyes falling onto the rusty door with the faded words ‘MAINTENANCE KEEP OUT’ on it in all red. “Yeah I see it.” You said heading over to it. “Go inside and once you’re in there should be another door that leads down to the sewers. If you follow it straight for about ten minutes, you’ll be standing right underneath Hart Plaza. You’d just need to climb up the manhole and avoid being shot once you climb out.”  He explained rather quickly.      You processed all of this information and entered the maintenance area. Just like James had said there was another door and once it was opened there was a ladder that led down into the sewer system. The smell of garbage and rot overwhelmed you as soon as you climbed down into the sewer. “God, the smell.” You said covering your mouth to avoid puking. You began walking while covering your mouth. Oh, the things you did to save people. You were walking for a few minutes when James began speaking again. “I’m patching you through to Markus. He finished talking to Perkins and I don’t know what he’s going to do next.” James said abruptly. “You’re what? James!” You yelled. You stopped walking and listened to the sound of the wind and a helicopter. “Markus?” You said quietly. “How are you?” He asked.    “How am I? How am I? You don’t get to ask me that when you’re minutes away from getting yourself and everyone else killed!” You yelled. “Listen to me, you need to stay where you are. Do not come anywhere near Hart Plaza.” He retorted.      Markus was infuriating. He was insane to think that you would stand by and let him die. The world needed him, every Android everywhere needed him. “Markus you need to get everyone out of there right now.” You said starting to walk again, quickening your pace. “No, we’re taking a stand. They need to know who they’re up against.” “Markus if you don’t get out of there right now, I’ll-” “You’ll what?” He yelled.      What would you do? What even were you going to do when you got to the plaza? It suddenly hit you that you had no solid plan on how to help. You just knew you were going to show up and when it gets messy, you’d throw yourself in front of him. You stopped walking again and breathed in feeling how shaky you suddenly were. Why were you trembling like this? “Take care of yourself okay?” He said. That’s when the line between you and Markus fuzzed out, the sewer trembling. All the blood drained from your face when you heard the smothered explosive sounds from above. “They just attacked the barricade.” James said. You began to run.

A/N: The next part will be up in the next few hours I am so sorry for leaving you all hanging when it came to this fic chain!

TAGS: @abzu16 @blushybryan

[firenationskydominion]

Chapter 19: A Phoenix Rises again

A few days later Azula and Mya camped outside Capital City and prepared to enter at dawn. But how without risking being thrown into the dungeons? Azula got off the horse.

Az:       My whole tush is sore.

 M:       You’ll get used to it. Try this Yoga pose, it shall relax your strained muscles.

 Az:      My father has secret tunnels which lead everywhere in the palace. It might well be that he is in there...

 M:       I know an entry point... but we need a disguise...

  Mya was unknown to the FireNation people. Nobody had seen her from near. But that was different for Azula. Mya went to the city and bought two large hats.

  Ozai woke and was upset. He felt empty. He had no plan. Nothing to do. Nobody to talk to. He was a ghost. He left his chamber and for a brief moment considered facing Zuko in an Agni Kai to demand back the throne. Who had tried to kill him? Zuko? Some General? His enemies were plenty, but did he have friends? He had visited his followers incognito and many really wished for him to return. He thought about Azula, Amon and Elua. He once had been such a sweet boy like Zuko, but Azulon had beaten him into shape. Ozai mourned himself, his sad childhood and his loneliness. He missed Mya, Amon and Azula. But seeing Amon and Azula would remind him constantly of Myas death. Yet the thought hovered over him all the time and no amount of evading it would soften the pain.

  After exiting his bedroom he took the secret passages to a tunnel on the side of the throne room. He peeped through a hole and saw Zuko sitting on the elevated throne. The fire was off. He decided to prank Zuko and flicked his finger. The flames shot up and Ozai smiled.

  Zuko was talking to his Generals when suddenly the flames around him ignited. He was startled and jumped up. The Kiyoshi warriors came in and checked the whole room. No intruders. Zuko had heard the silly stories of Ozais ghost haunting the palace. If he was a ghost, he was dead for good and Zuko had one worry less to fret about. A short while later a congregation of Generals entered the throne room.

  After the attack on Ozai and Mya the Generals had feared that the deal was off, but Amon kept his word and the trade between the worlds had been coordinated by him and Azula. He never mentioned Ozai or Mya though, even upon request.

  In the meantime Earth King Kuei was increasingly dissatisfied with the peace accord. He finally realized that he had been sidelined by the Fire Nation and started assembling ground troops. The Dai Li had always managed trade and Kuei on his own without their counsel was inept to make responsible decisions. Furthermore some secret Dai Li agents were sabotaging his efforts. His people were dissatisfied and he needed a war to keep their minds engaged. There was also turmoil and rumours about Ozais return. The common people iconified and exploited Ozai as a marketing gag for all sorts of products. He was far more popular now than during his reign. People were simpleminded and craved a strong leader. Zuko was seen as weak and doubtful.

   Zuko noticed that the generals were dissatisfied. They asked him to take a stand and to send troops to face the Earth Kingdom offensive. Zuko was torn. He was pondering over what to do when the fires ignited again. Ozai stepped out of the flames like an apparition.

  O:        It’s time to decide son, or the generals will decide for you.

  Zuko jumped up from the throne aghast.

  Z:         Father! You’re alive!

O:        You all seem surprised to see me. Let me assure you, I am not a ghost. I see at least a few happy faces among you. Let me see who is the most shocked of all is most likely the person hiring archers to kill me... Zuko was it you? General Zheng? General Sako? I will find out eventually.

  Zuko was nervous. What did his father want?

  Z:         A strange way to visit me to barge in like this on a counsel meeting...? Tell me, what do you want?

O:       Oh, I was watching you, always wondering if you sent the arrows... patricide runs in our family... You had the wardens torture me before, so why not go a step further. I will not hold this against you. I know how difficult it is to decide wisely as a Firelord and that you lack the confidence that I always had.

 Z:        Do you want to fight me?

 O:       Not unless I must. I would like to spend a few days here. I have some private matters to attend to. Generals, who ever tried to kill me will most probably try again.

   One of the Generals, a young handsome man, with black hair and golden eyes mustered up all his courage:

  G:       Firelord Ozai, please take back the throne! You have many loyal followers who are willing to sacrifice their lives for your victory!

  Ozai smiled. He closed his eyes and paused, before addressing the generals. His voice was menacing and cool:

  O:        And I, what am I to do then? Kill my son and my brother in order to take the throne back? Are you suggesting treason against the acting Firelord Zuko, General Wuhan?

  The Generals face went pale.

  Ozai looked at Zuko measuring him up.

  O: How does Firelord Zuko treat insubordination and attempts at treason? Will he lash out like I used to? Will he fight him in an Agni Kai to gain superiority? Or will he be lenient and in return suffer a hit from a poisoned arrow? Will he toss Wuhan in a cold jail cell to have him tortured like his own father or banish him to the colonies? I don’t fear to fight my son, if need be I’ll die in flames as our greatest heroes have. Whatever you choose, son, it will create bad blood, uprisals and sectarianism... But please, for the sake of our nation, make a choice!

  Z:         Why did you really return?

O:        Mya is dead. This is still my house and I needed a place to stay. As simple as that.

Z:         Mya dead? Was it the poisoned arrow?

   Ozai bitterly said:

  O:        No, a bomb in a city far away in another world. It all seems so distant, now that I am back. Iroh was so adamant that I wanted the throne back, he attacked me.

  Zuko stared at Ozai, shocked.

  O:        Don‘t worry, son. He should be alright. Nothing a cup of tea could not fix. Now please have the servants ready my chamber. I am tired and I want to rest.

  The Generals and Zuko were confused. Ozai looked at their blank faces.

  O:        What are you waiting for?

  Zuko ordered the servants to comply with Ozais wishes. Ozai was vigilant. He was baiting himself out, attempting to draw the culprit out of the shadows.

  Zuko then dismissed all Generals, also Wuhan who was surprised and relieved to get away without any repercussions.

  ****

  Elua was cooking her chicken broth when somebody knocked at her door. She opened only to find two ladies with enormous hats standing in front of her door.

 E: I don’t buy anything and I do not want to hear about your saviour, thanks.

 She prepared to shut the door but Mya told her about their identities and that they needed her help.

   An hour later the broth was eaten and all three women wore Elua's old clothes. Three old ladies. They packed baskets with cookies and wine and left for the gate of Caldera city. At that moment, a few hundred messenger birds left the palace and flew into the sky. Upon arrival at the gate, they pretended to be old alumnae of Master Shinsendos Firebending school who were on their way to their school reunion. The guards were overjoyed and let them in without a hassle. With this story they proceeded further to the stables. Mya checked the loose floor board. Ozais uniform was hidden, his royal clothes were missing, he had been here.

   Ozai was sitting in his room at his desk reading letters from his supporters. They even sent fanmail with pictures of him painted by their kids. He cringed, but his inflated ego forbid him to destroy depictions of himself, so he filed them meticulously. There was a knock on the door. General Wuhan was outside and bid to enter.

  W:        I have come to ask your forgiveness, Mylord. I had in no means intended to offend your feelings. I heard today that the news from the front are bad. Earth Nation smashed our battalion and many died. You, Mylord are popular, and the idea of your formal return to power gains traction with the commonfolk. You are supported by the Fire priests and the council of sages. I know I am risking my life talking to you, please forgive my insubordination. Do with me what you want, but please, I am begging you, do something about our weak defense.

O:       Wuhan, I despise traitors, you should know me better. You are young though and yet a general. How come?

 W:       I fought bravely, but I was also lucky.

 O:       Very modest of you to downplay your role in the siege of BaSingSe. So you are saying they all want me back. You were a boy during my first reign. You never experienced my rule... You show courage, coming to my doorstep unannounced. You remind me of myself in younger years. You are dismissed.

  Wuhan left light heartedly. He had left a lasting impression on Ozai. A courageous young man, with golden eyes and a very delicious looking tush.

  Ozai left hurriedly to the throne room. Zuko was sitting on the throne. Ozai did not want to use the front door like a commoner with requests, nor the side door like a servant. He decided to enter through another side entrance from the entry hall which the Generals usually took.

  O:        Son, can we talk in private?

 Z:        I don’t know what you want to talk about...

 O:       The war... Kuei is gaining traction. I am a bit... worried.

 Z:        A battle lost is not a war lost!

 O:       Let me command the army. I‘ll crush Earth Nation.

 Z:        Kuei has no clue, it‘s the Dai Li who are mourning their loss of importance. I will never allow you to command my troops, you will overthrow me.

 O:       I have no plans to fight you. But Wuhan’s tactic was just a taste of what is about to come.

 Z:        I cannot please everyone.

 O:       You need to please the right people.

 Maybe the people should decide what path they want to take. If they back you, the generals can‘t do much.

Z:        Those bloodthirsty ingrates who whine about cabbage price hikes and who put up that ugly statue of yours.

O:       Very unflattering, I agree with you. They totally missed my perfect cheekbones and abs! But listen, if they vote for you, you’ll be democratically legitimated! The Generals will have no choice. Let’s create a two party system. They can choose your way or my way. They will choose and nobody will be left to blame but themselves if we fail.

 Z:        You would win the election... and I would again be in defeat.

 O:       I always thought you were the leader who cared about the people. Win their hearts. I can give them fancy parades, but you can give them meaning and a future. Let‘s compete and see who wins. The colonies will vote for you, so will all those who lost kin in the war. Some old folks will vote for me out of loyalty. It will confirm your regency.

   Zuko thought about it and finally caved in. They would first let the Generals assemble and appoint them as small parliamentary chamber. The ongoing offensive demanded swift action. They should freely choose whom they vowed to follow and the losers would respect the decision. After that they would prepare for elections in Fire Nation and the colonies to create a parliamentary monarchy with the Fire Lord as Head of State.

  Ozai summoned the generals. They seemed to fear Ozai who was standing next to Zuko, who was seated on the throne and looked small in comparison. Ozai feigned to be absentmindedly and casually flicking fire with his fingers, but everyone who knew him well saw that he was alert. Every inch of his body was ready to strike. Zuko was already sidelined. Suddenly there was a commotion and the guards notified them of turmoil outside the gates of Caldera city. The families of the fallen soldiers of the most recent clash demanded Zuko to step down. They had been notified by birds from the palace about Ozais return. Ozai couldn’t resist a smile. Zuko had to watch helplessly as Ozai summoned the generals and asked them to vote for either his or Zukos leadership. Only a few dared vote for Zuko. Within less than an hour Ozai had taken over the reign again.