#Step 2: He figures out the Song of the Stars from the music sheet on the crest

[lutiaslayton]

Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva

ＰＡＲＴ　１５

〚ＦＩＲＳＴ〛〚ＰＲＥＶ〛〚ＮＥＸＴ〛

Disclaimer: This is a fan-translation for the Japan-exclusive novellisation of the movie Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva. The original novel was written by Aya Matsui under the supervision of Akihiro Hino, and belongs to Level-5.

This translation only aims to be a pleasant read for non-Japanese fans, nothing more: I made a few deliberate changes while translating in order to get the writing style closer to what is usually found in English fanfictions, as the Japanese storytelling can sometimes be different than what we are used to.

☆ Melina Whistler

Yes…

I could remember it clearly.

The unparalleled sense of fear, of entrapment and desolation, when I was sent into the body of someone else…

I looked for a place to hide, but there was nowhere to.

Everything was cold… I could hardly breathe.

I couldn’t stay here! Please, someone let me out!

I screamed desperately, but no one could hear me.

I kept pleading to someone I couldn’t see.

Please, I don’t want to stay here either. But I can’t leave. I have to stay here…

“Melina—Is that you, Melina?”

I had heard a familiar voice.

I could hear… or rather, I could feel it.

I couldn’t see her, but I knew that Janice was close by.

“Janice…?”

“Melina! This is incredible. I can’t believe you are so close to me…”

“I’m sorry, Janice! I shouldn’t be here. I’ll disappear right now… Somehow, I’ll find a way to do that!”

“No, you can’t!”

“Janice!?”

“I’ve just found you again… Do you realise how much I missed you? How much I missed my best friend while you were gone…”

“But, Janice…”

“It’s okay, Melina… I can’t let you go on like this.”

Suddenly, I had felt something shifting.

The sense of fear and desolation disappeared…

“Janice!”

Her voice was moving away.

“This isn’t just for you. This is also for me. Melina, you may not understand, but the grief and suffering of those left behind is so strong…”

I know, Janice…

I had felt Papa’s grief and pain even after I had lost my body…

“You have to understand, Melina. Losing my best friend not once, but twice, would surely break my heart…”

Before I knew it, I was slowly becoming familiar with Janice’s body, as if guided by the waves of the sea.

I had been spoiled by her heartfelt friendship…

At that moment…

The sound of slow clapping brought me back to reality.

It was Descole. The man who had used Papa’s love for me to draw him into his evil ways…

“Excellent. I did not realise that the memory copying had been successful… So congratulations, Whistler, you’ve achieved your goal.”

It was no wonder that you hadn’t noticed, Descole. Someone like you would never understand Janice’s kindness, or the nobility of sacrificing oneself in order to keep others alive.

“Oh, oh my God…”

Poor Papa… He was completely confused.

I looked straight into his eyes. Papa… I needed him to understand my feelings.

“At some point, I started to realise that this was wrong. I can’t live my life at the expense of my friend.”

I told him my honest thoughts.

“It was you who wrote to me, wasn’t it?”

Professor Layton…

I… No, we both wrote that letter. Janice’s voice had become inaudible to me, but our hearts were still communicating.

“It was the right choice to choose you, Professor. I thought you would be able to stop Papa… Just like I wanted him to stop.”

Isn’t that right, Janice?

It was just as you told me before.

“There is no puzzle that Professor Layton can’t solve, Melina.”

“I can’t stay in her body forever… But as long as this device exists, Papa will continue to copy my memories.”

“Melina…”

Papa’s eyes… They were looking at me, not at Janice.

“I had heard a lot about the Professor from Janice. She admired you so much…”

I’m sorry, Janice… I said it.

As soon as you gave me your life, I had realised how much the professor meant to you…

When I first met him on the Crown Petone, I made my most cherished memories. The times when he solved puzzles… That time when we were talking on the beach… That time when we were riding that makeshift helicopter that we had built… I was never alone.

Papa’s voice was trembling.

“Melina, I… This was all for you…”

“Thank you, Papa… I appreciate how you feel. But, please… These horrendous things have to stop now.”

“I just couldn’t accept a life without my beloved daughter… So I…”

At that moment— The whole room was struck by a tremendous quake.

“Professor, the ceiling!”

With a roar, the ceiling above us was split in two, as we all stood under it in stunned shock.

Then Descole took my arm.

“Melina!”

In a flash, Descole ran up the stairs leading to the Detragan and set me down.

A pack of wolves popped out and surrounded everyone. They all let out a terrifying howl then stood menacingly, ready to pounce on anyone at any moment.

“What are you doing, Descole!?”

“I needed Melina’s memories to achieve my true goal,” he replied coldly, standing right next to me.

“Your true goal…?” Papa asked in confusion.

I was with him on this one… I had no idea what this was about either. What could he possibly need my memories for? What could that mean?

Descole twirled his cloak and pointed to the ceiling.

“The resurrection of Ambrosia!”

The ceiling was painted with the Ambrosian crest… The Kingdom of Immortality.

“It all started when I discovered their coat of arms in its entirety…”

Descole turned to the professor and sent him a condescending look.

“Layton, what do you think these symbols mean?”

The coat of arms had a design reminiscent of a king and queen, surrounded by a vast number of lines, dots and jagged patterns…

The professor soon gasped in realisation. “…It’s a music sheet!”

“Correct. A music sheet, written in the Ambrosian way.”

Descole walked over to the Detragan and reached for a sheet music.

“In other words, the coat of arms is inscribed with the first key required to open the door to Ambrosia: a song that could be called ‘A Song of the Stars.’”

“A ‘Song of the Stars’…!?” Luke repeated incredulously.

“The second key is you, Melina.”

I could not believe my ears. “Me… the second key?”

The resurrection of Ambrosia, keys to open a door… I did not understand.

“The first key alone was not enough to revive Ambrosia. This was when I realised that the crest also hinted at the existence of a second key…”

The professor instantly resonated. “The ‘Song of the Sea’!”

Descole slowly took my hand with an icy smile. His grip was just as cold as his face.

“The stars, and the sea. When the two melodies are combined, Ambrosia will be revived.”

“I didn’t realise… that he was after the kingdom itself,” Papa slowly shook his head in shame.

“Alas, by the time the puzzle of the crest had been solved… The only person who had an accurate memory of the second key could no longer sing…”

So that was what this was all about.

The ‘Song of the Sea’… It was the song that the sea around Ambrosia had taught me.

Ever since we had moved to this island so I could recuperate from my illness, I had spent every day gazing out at it. Walking along the beach, or standing on my balcony, with the feeling of the sea breeze embracing me…

It wasn’t long before I had become aware of the melody that the sea was bringing me.

The wind, blowing past the reefs jutting out from the shore, would sing the same song to me every day. The waves breaking onto the shore would add to the music, creating a pleasant harmony, like a small ensemble.

Soon, I had unconsciously began to hum that very beautiful and somewhat nostalgic melody. When the sea and the song were joined together, it had given me a sense of heartfelt sincerity. It was soothing… and it made me happy, as I felt surrounded by a shower of invisible music.

Descole put his hand on one of the Detragan’s levers.

“Even though some memories were left behind… I wanted a perfect copy, more than Whistler did!”

He pulled the lever. Immediately after, the staircase exploded and bright lights flashed on the wall.

The smoke from the explosion blocked my view.

　⇚　　　　　　　⇛

[miyagihawk]

why’d you only call me when you’re high? | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

based on the arctic monkeys song, requested by @deadbeatharlz <3

warnings: ! smut !, drug use, swearing, quite angsty

summary: hawk ignores you at school, but he calls you in the middle of the night when he’s high

a/n: this will be my first smut so sorry if it’s bad hehe. also, hawk is 18 in this so senior year of high school. im the same age as him in the show so i don’t think it’s weird lol

word count: 1,515

He’s such an asshole.

His stupid mohawk, the stupid way he walks like he owns the world, his stupid arrogant smile, and the stupid way his mouth moves when he talks to his stupid karate friends.

But unfortunately you love him and all of his stupid.

It hurts so bad when he walks by you at school, like he doesn’t even know you. He ignores your gaze like he didn’t just touch every inch of your skin the night before.

“I need you,” he says to you in the middle of the night, but the next day you might as well be invisible.

It makes you feel horrible. Insignificant to him. You give him every piece of you and he acts like it’s nothing. But everytime he calls, you pick up.

It’s 3 a.m. when your phone’s buzzing interrupts your dreams. You pick it up, squinting from the bright screen and answer. You don’t need to see the Caller ID, to know who it is. No one else calls you this late.

“Yes?” you mumble groggily into the speaker, half asleep with your head still on your pillow.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N,” he speaks in a dragging manner, like he always does when he’s just smoked. There’s a faint sound of music in the back, probably from the party he’s at.

“Cool,” you reply bluntly, even though his remark made your heart race. He doesn’t even have to try; just the sound of his voice has you in the palm of his hand. It’s pathetic, really.

“So pretty... I miss you,” Hawk says slowly. His voice also gets deeper than normal when he’s high and it causes your stomach to churn.

You don’t say anything, refraining from telling him what you really feel. That you miss him too.

“Y/N? Can I come over?” he asks his usual question.

You sigh, conflicted. He knows you’ll say yes and you don’t want to say yes. But you don’t have it in you to say no either. You can’t say your mom is home, because he’s been around enough to know when she works night shifts.

You would honestly hate yourself if you just said no. Having him for a night is more than nothing, even if it breaks your heart the next day.

“Just don’t drive,” you say, before hanging up.

20 minutes later, a knock on your window makes you jump. But the shadow of a mohawk reassures you that it’s just the high stupidhead you were expecting.

You lift up the window and he stumbles in with droopy eyelids and red rimmed eyes.

“You could’ve used the front door you know, I told you where the key is,” you watch as he takes off his shoes.

“I forgot,” he shrugs. It’s quiet as he steps closer to you and softly reaches out to touch your cheek. His other hand snakes around your waist to move you closer against his chest. 

You know what he wants. What he always wants. You should pull away and end this vicious cycle, but his touch is too intoxicating.

“Did you miss me? I said I missed you on the phone and you didn’t say anything,” he pouts like a baby. His tough badass exterior always vanishes around you, and you wonder why.

His hand moves your hair behind your ear, trailing down to trace your neck with the gentle touch of his fingertips. Your heart accelerates, and you close your eyes at how good it feels to just be touched by him. You nod your head at his question, ignoring your pride.

With your eyes still closed, you feel his warm breath on your neck. He leaves kisses on your jaw, then sucks lightly on the spot that he knows drives you crazy. You let out a small moan at the contact, reaching your hand up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Your eyes flutter open when he retreats, and you pull him back down to kiss your lips. You feel like you’re on fire, and everything but him escapes your mind. You don’t think about him ignoring you at school or the fact that he’s high out of his mind. Right now, he’s all yours and that’s all you need.

The kiss increases in pace and hunger, and Hawk starts to lead you towards your bed. He lays you down, then hovers above your body, delivering kisses everywhere: your stomach, your hips, and your chest. Everything he does just makes you melt.

You pull him back up to your face to meet your lips with his. As you passionately kiss, you reach under his shirt to feel the rigidness of his abs and he lifts up from you.

“Want this off princess?” he smiles smugly and you nod shyly below him, blushing at the petname. He takes off his shirt in one move, and returns to your lips. Your hands roam the warmth of his skin, and you feel content when he moans into your mouth.

His own hands start to creep under your shirt and he pulls it up over your head to reveal your bra. He’s seen you dozens of times, but the view of your body could never get old. “Shit, I’m fucking hard,” he breaths at the sight of you, looking you up and down in admiration.

And he is. You feel his growing length pressing against your heat as his tongue moves with yours, and the pressure is getting overwhelming. Both of you are breathing heavily as he rubs against where you need him most, relieving some of the pressure.

Closer, you want him closer.

“I want you,” you whisper into his ear, and that’s all it takes for him to unbutton his pants. He wants you just as bad, and you don’t know it but it’s all he thinks about all day: your legs around him as you moan his name.

You shiver while he gently pulls down your shorts and underwear. His touch is so light as if he’s handling glass, that it’s hard to imagine the same hands are used for something as violent as karate. 

Positioning his swollen tip at your entrance, he presses a delicate kiss to your nose before pushing himself in. The feeling of him filling you up is pure ecstasy. He’s high on marijuana, but you’re high on him and it’s more addicting than any drug.

He groans when your fingernails drag down his back and it makes him thrust into you deeper and faster. To him, you feel like magic. Your scent, your sounds, the way you clench around him when he thrusts especially hard.

You begin to see stars and you sense that he’s close too, when he twitches inside of you.

Heaven. Everything about him is heaven.

You two lay together, basking in the beautiful feeling of your release. You’re on your side with your back against his chest, and his fingertips caress your arm soothingly.

The moment is perfect. In the back of your mind you know he’s not yours, but it truly feels like he is when his lips whisper sweet nothings into your hair.

He kisses your bare shoulder, and in the moment you don’t even think when you say the forbidden words.

“I love you.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what just escaped your mouth and you feel his mutual shock from behind you.

But you can’t take it back. It’s out and it’s floating around the room like a bad smell you can’t get rid of. Any trace of the exhilarating moment you just shared is gone, replaced by an awkward air suffocating you both.

“You don’t mean that,” Hawk shifts away from you and you want to tear up at the withdrawal.

“And what if I do?” you look at him, looking him in the eye even though you’re afraid of his reaction. But his stare is blank and he avoids your gaze like he does in the hallways.

“You can’t. I treat you like shit, Y/N. I don’t deserve someone like you loving me,” he shakes his head. Your heart drops when he starts to put on his clothes and gather his things. Usually he stays the night at least, but you spilled too much of your heart and he doesn’t want it.

You don’t know what to say, because in the end he’s completely right, even if you don’t want to admit it. He does treat you like shit. He only calls you when he’s high, and through it all you still torment yourself by loving him.

Taking your silence as an answer, Hawk opens up your window. He takes one last look at your small figure under the sheets before leaving you. His own heart breaks at the distraught expression on your face, and the fact that it’s all his fault.

Of course he loves you. But you’re too good for him.

He didn’t say, but you know that tonight is the last night he’ll ever call you at 3 a.m. again.

part 2!

[btxtreads]

Breaking Free

CHAPTER EIGHT: THE WAY YOU DO

↳ Pairing: Hueningkai x Reader

↳ word count: 1.5k words

↳ rating: G

↳ genre: is this fluff? idk what genre this is. it’s musical, it’s a musical

↳ Warnings: none

Yeonjun’s fast fingers drift across the piano as if it was second nature. His eyes shifted towards the girl leaning on the piano, singing her heart out with an enthusiastic smile. Abruptly, Yeonjun ended the song and turned to the drama adviser—Professor Kim Seokjin—sitting in the front row. Yeonjun subtly shook his head, followed by an amused snort by the teacher.

“Honey, I have no idea who told you that you were good enough for the lead at the moment.” Professor Kim said, lifting his checklist and scribbling something. “Take some lessons and come back to me in two years. Next.”

Yeonjun rolled back his shoulder as another student stepped towards the stage, preparing for their piece. Dahyun sat in the second row of the theater, relaxed as she waited for her turn to audition with an arrogant smirk. Unbeknownst to everyone in the theater, a mop of blonde hair stood at the back of the theater—barely concealed behind the janitor’s cart.

“You know that mop isn’t enough to hide you right?”

The blonde yelped as he turned with wide eyes, facing an amused Y/N with crossed arms as she leaned her shoulder on the wall. Immediately, Kai relaxed.

“Hey, Y/N.” He mumbled, turning back to the audition with a wince as he heard another NEXT.

“Hey. You come to audition?”

“Just had some time to watch.” Kai shrugged. “Wanted to see Yeonjun-hyung here in his element too.”

“Ah right,” Y/N nodded as she turned back to the stage, flinching slightly at the off-pitch sounds coming from the current performer. “Hey, why don’t we go sit here at the back instead of hiding back here.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s nicer.” Kai agreed as Y/N’s hand grasped his loosely, pulling him over.

Kai tilted as he settled in his seat, watching the auditions intently. He saw Y/N perk up when Yeonjun turned back to the audience with a frown, eyes flying to them at the back. Both teens shot him a small wave, making him lighten up and wave back. Before any of them can do anything else, Dahyun stood up and puffed up her curls.

“Professor Kim, why don’t I audition first and show these amateurs how pros do it?”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes as Professor Kim turned and shot her a deadpan look. The teacher looked back down at his list.

“It appears you’re the last one, do what you want.”

Yeonjun sighed again, shaking his head as Dahyun strutted up to the stage.

“I made my own arrangements, Junie.”

“It’s Yeonjun—we’re not friends.”

The senior was still ignored as the girl went into position—for a song set in a slow tempo, with no choreography. Kai and Y/N exchanged glances before looking back at Yeonjun, who just shrugged back. An upbeat tuned started to blast out of the speakers, and Dahyun launched into a performance.

It’s hard to believe,

that I couldn’t see.

You were always right beside me.

Y/N and Kai blinked at each other once more. Dahyun launched into more upbeat choreography, a fake smile plastered on her face.

Thought I was alone,

with no one to hold.

But you were always right beside me.

Yeonjun clenched his fists in irritation as he moved towards his piano to collect the music sheets.

This feeling’s like no other.

I want you to know.

Professor Kim appeared to not be paying attention, having pulled out his phone and scrolling.

I’ve never had someone that knows me like you do,

the way you do.

I’ve never had someone as good for me as you,

no one like you.

Professor Kim pocketed his phone and surveyed the seats with pursed lips as the song approached it’s end.

So lonely before,

I finally found what I’ve been looking for.

Dahyun stopped her performance, making Professor Kim stand with hands in his pockets.

“Anyone else who’s going to audition?”

Professor Kim’s eyes surveyed the theater—locking with Y/N’s as he rose his eyebrows. He looked back at his phone with pursed lips.

“3, 2, 1.” He sighed in disappointment. “No more auditions.”

“Wait!”

Kai flinched as Y/N shot up next to him, stumbling over towards Professor Kim.

“I want to audition.”

Professor Kim looked over at her with a frown.

“Audition for singles are over.” Professor Kim raised an eyebrow. “You’re late.”

Yeonjun stood at the stage, clutching his music sheets with interest. Dahyun snickered at the front, arms crossed as she stuck her hip out to the side.

“But—“

“I’ll go audition with her.” Kai sighed as he stood from his chair, rubbing the back of his head.

Yeonjun gasped in excitement from the stage as Dahyun gaped in anger.

“Kai!” Dahyun squeaked in anger.

The boy ignored her as he stepped forward to place a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. He shot Yeonjun a small smile before looking back at the Professor.

“We’ll do a couple audition.”

“Mr. Huening, I called for auditions and neither of you answered.” Professor Kim said as he glanced at his phone. “Perhaps the next musical. I have class in thirty minutes and I still need to stop by for coffee.”

Y/N sighed in disdain as Professor Kim breezed past. Kai and Yeonjun smiled apologetically, the latter turning back to collect his things from the piano. Dahyun smirked arrogantly as she spoke up.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” She giggled, waving her fingers. “I’m sure they’re accepting help backstage!”

Kai rolled his eyes as Dahyun stepped backstage towards the exit. He smiled gently at Y/N.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I don’t know what made me try to get an audition anyways.” Y/N shook her head.

Kai furrowed his eyebrows as he and Y/N walked towards the stage to meet Yeonjun, who was still sorting his papers.

“I’m sure if you had the chance to audition, you’d be the star immediately.” Kai said. “I know what you sound like and it’s leagues better than Dahyun.”

“Doubt that. The most I do with music is record demos as samples for my brother when he produces stuff, that’s all.”

Kai chuckled, shaking his head at the girl’s refusal to acknowledge her talent. They reached Yeonjun, making the older boy smile at the two.

“Hey, guys!” He greeted. “Sorry for that earlier, Y/N. Would have loved to hear you sing, I heard you were good.”

“Ah, not that goo—“

“Are you kidding, hyung? She’d crush the stage.” Kai shook his head, smiling over at Y/N—making her blush.

“That good, huh?” Yeonjun raised his eyebrow as he turned back to his piano and shifted through some papers.

He pulled out three sheets—handing two to Kai and Y/N. Yeonjun sat back down on the piano.

“Show me.”

“I—I don’t—“ Y/N blushed furiously. “I don’t think I should—“

“Come on, I don’t really wanna leave without at least hearing you both—especially you, Hueningie.” Yeonjun smiled in encouragement as he shot both a hopeful look.

“Hyung—“

“Come on, Kai.”

The boy sighed, conceding as he looked back down at the paper.

“I’ll do it if Y/N does.”

The girl whipped over to Kai with wide eyes, blinking in shock as she looked back down at the music sheet.

“Fine but just once.” Y/N mumbled under her breath, clearing her throat as she looked back down at the sheet. “Okay.”

Yeonjun smiled in triumph as Kai shot the girl a soft grin, looking down at his own sheet. Yeonjun began to play once more, lithe fingers pressing keys to produce a beautiful harmony.

“Kai, go.”

It’s hard to believe

that I couldn’t see.

You were always there beside me.

Y/N grinned at Kai’s concentrated face. She turned over to him with a soft smile.

Thought I was alone

with no one to hold,

but you were always right beside me.

Kai turned his head, a smile on his lips as he met Y/N’s gaze. They looked at each other softly, making the elder in the room raise his eyebrow in curious amusement.

This feeling’s like no other.

I want you to know.

Kai reached out and grasped her hand as he sang, a rare smile on his face. Yeonjun kept playing, head turning back to the entrance to see someone walk back in.

That I’ve never found someone

that knows me like you do

the way you do.

Yeonjun smiled to himself as he turned back to the piano, his peripheral vision following a tall figure walk inside the theater with a sharp gaze.

And I’ve never found someone

as good for me as you,

no one like you.

So lonely before,

I finally found what I’ve been looking for.

Yeonjun played the final notes, a smile on his face as he turned to the two.

“That was good.” He said, turning over to the figure in the audience. “What did you think, Yoongi-hyung?”

Kai and Y/N turned to the audience in shock, seeing Professor Kim nod with an impressed smile.

“I expect to see you both in the callbacks.” Professor Kim said, picking up his forgotten bag at the front row. “Yeonjun, help them practice. I’m sure they’ll need all the help they can get.”

“Roger.” Yeonjun saluted as Professor Kim turned back around to leave.

Y/N and Kai exchanged alarmed glances.

Some things never turn out the way you plan them to.

[amygdalagustd]

Kim Namjoon on Identity

Namjoon explores the concept of identity time and time again in his life and in his music. He tends to focus on how different parts of himself might be in conflict with each other, and the tensions and confusion that goes with that experience. People are filled with duality, sometimes to the point that it tears us apart. The question of “who am I?” seems a simple one, but underneath it lies a lot of complexity. Who do I want to be? Who do other people want me to be? How much of my identity is formed by my past? Can I change who I am? Can I be multiple things at the same time? Who is the real me? What does it even mean to be the real me?

The question of “who am I?” seems to both fascinate and terrify Namjoon. In this essay we will tackle the question together as I explore all the different ways that Namjoon contemplates identity in lyrics and interviews.

From his decision to become a rapper in the first place to the struggle of taking care of himself as a world famous idol to the questioning of what having an identity actually means, we will travel through Namjoon’s career and highlight all the moments that he asks himself:

“Who the hell am I?”

It’s no secret that Namjoon was a very intelligent and driven student who got good grades in school. In his earlier lyrics he often writes about the pressure that was put on him to succeed and follow a certain path in life. As someone who was good at studying it was expected of him to prioritize his education above all else. Namjoon fit into that role well, but behind the scenes his heart was longing for music. He discovered rap and decided that he wanted a different path for his life. BTS’s early work is filled with messages of following your dreams and not letting other people decide what type of life you want to live. Namjoon often talked about the struggles of living in between the expectations of those around him and his own desires for his future. Some of those conflicting feelings are expressed in Voice, the intro song to his 2015 mixtape RM:

Straight A student and underground rapper

I occupied myself all day with being graded with meaningless numbers like beef gets graded

I just wanted to succeed

because that’s the only thing I was told by others so much that I almost got sick of it

The mirage called happiness- I thought it would be held there

But, sitting at my desk, I was never happy, not for a single moment

I secretly hid a blank sheet of paper between the pages of my study book without my mom’s knowing

My identity that I wrote down along the sound of drums and bass

The feeling of breathing that is different from that of receiving grade reports

Even when I was the top of my class, my mind was never at ease

Is it absolutely necessary to want something that others want?

I secretly raise the volume of my voice

so that you can know, so that it can reach you

I again raise the volume of my voice

so that you can know, so that it can reach you

He also touches on the subject in Born Singer, which was released in 2013:

To be honest, I was scared that I was to prove myself after talking big

that I, who used to know only pen and book, was then to surprise the world

I dunno, that I and the world’s expectations are too asymmetric,

I was scared that I might betray everyone who trusted me

I stretch my burdened shoulders and step onto the very first stage

BTS and Namjoon will continue to talk about the pressure of society's expectations and the difficulty of following your own path in songs like No More Dream, N.O and School of Tears. Fighting back against the oppressive school system is a huge part of their message and mission in their early career. They ask their fans and themselves to look at the person that they are expected to become and question if that image is in line with their own dreams and desires. Namjoon wrestled with this question himself, and therefore has the experience and passion to guide others who might be struggling with their identity and the identity that is put on them.

Idol and artist

The concept of being an idol vs being an artist is one that comes back often in BTS lyrics. Namjoon is an underground rapper who ended up in a boyband, and the identity of being an idol is one that he has wrestled with quite a bit. Can you be both an idol and an artist? Does becoming an idol mean that you have to give up on being an artist? Does it matter if you call yourself an idol or an artist? Does it matter what other people say about it?

Namjoon mentions this conflicting identity in Awakening on his 2015 mixtape RM:

Every night I fight myself inside me

My heart pounds, and my colleagues stab me in the back

saying I became a cripple after going into a company

Yeah fuck you I’m an idol, yeah yeah i’m an idol

I hated it at one time but now I love to get that title

Unlike some keep denying [their identity] to the end on television,

I now fully accept myself, and I just do me

Whether I’m an idol or an artist- it actually never mattered

The way you guys look at me was what defined me

I was obsessed over titles and hung up on how people described me

Listen to the rap of the guy who became a bit smarter as time passed

Namjoon gets shit for being an idol from the underground rap scene and gets shit for being an artist from the idol scene. He is hovering in between, writing his rap lyrics with the power and authenticity of a hip hop artist while simultaneously dancing and looking like a full fledged boyband member. He responds to this dilemma with unwavering pride, the drive to prove himself and a fuck you attitude. This energy dominates a lot of early BTS music. They are still trying to find their place in the industry while not really knowing where exactly they belong. Songs like the Cyphers and Mic Drop highlight the anger they feel about the mistreatment they face from both sides of the industry while boasting about their accomplishments and pride in who they are. Just like Namjoon in Awakening, Yoongi also often mentions his struggles with the identity of being an idol in his solo work. In Idol, the title track of the 2018 album Love Yourself: Answer, BTS face the subject head on:

You can call me artist

You can call me idol

Or you can call me anything else

I don’t care

I’m proud of it

I’m free

No more irony

Because I’ve been me all the time

You can point your fingers at me, I don’t care at all

Whatever reason you have to denigrate me,

I know what I am

I know what I want

I never gon’ change

I never gon’ trade

Why do you talk loud “blah blah”

I do what I do, so mind your own business

You can’t stop me loving’ myself

Idol is a proud, joyful, wonderfully weird and confident self love anthem. It’s a celebration of who BTS are at their core. In the song, they have accepted all the different aspects of their identity and they don’t feel the need to fit in with just one label. In the future, they will go on to say that BTS’s genre is just BTS, and they see no point in categorizing themselves.

RM and Namjoon

In 2018, BTS released a documentary series called Burn The Stage. The series followed them throughout the Wings tour and was supposed to show a more raw version of them.

In episode 6, Namjoon said:

Being an idol star, you don’t have a choice but to have two identities. I invested a lot in my identity as BTS and RM, and this is really a dilemma. We need to find ways to overcome this, and I’m trying different things. I study, I read books. I need time to be wholly me, the original me that I know.

Everyone in BTS has a stage name, a person they become when they present themselves in front of their fans. On stage Namjoon is RM, a fierce and confident rapper, a powerful and charming performer, a dependable leader and someone who lives a fiery and intense life.

Behind the scenes, Namjoon is Namjoon, a man in his twenties who is trying to figure out how to be an adult just like everyone else. He likes to go on bike rides, take care of plants, go to museums, read books and spend time in nature. He gets lazy and reads webtunes for 5 hours straight and sometimes argues with the people around him because they annoy him.

Namjoon spends the years of his youth as part of BTS, in the public eye, and sometimes that causes tension between these different parts of himself; the stage persona and the private person. In Break The Silence: The Movie which came out in 2020, there was a lot of talk about identity. During one of Namjoon’s segments he said:

There is also the fear of how well I’m taking care of myself, the Kim Namjoon as a person. Aside from money, fame, and a sense of calling, what do I really have? When you have those things all other things start to feel really valuable. Those who don’t have them would find them really special. I think it’s a repetition of that, so for me, there is a fear about whether I’m faithfully living the story of my life to the fullest.

He also mentions this dilemma in Airplane pt.2 on the 2018 album Love Yourself: Tear where the lyrics go:

Who should I live as today, Kim Namjoon or RM?

25, I still don’t know how to live well

For Namjoon and anyone in BTS, there is no simple answer to this question, as the nature of their job puts them in a position that makes it hard for them to develop a sense of self outside of the work they are doing. Even though Namjoon is part of an incredibly successful band, that doesn't mean he got it all figured out. As he has poured his youth and his energy into becoming the best performer he can be, he now feels like the Kim Namjoon behind the scenes deserves some energy and space to exist too.

Rap Monster and RM

Before Namjoon was RM, Namjoon was Rap Monster, a stage name that he used until November of 2017. The name Rap Monster fits the fierce and somewhat angst-ridden style of music that Namjoon was making in the beginning of his career. He decided to move on from the name in 2017 because it was no longer representative of him and the music that he was making.

In an interview with Entertainment Tonight Namjoon said that RM could stand for many things. He mentioned Real Me as one of the possibilities, but seems to prefer not to pin one specific meaning to the name.

In another interview with J-14 Magazine when asked what kind of advice he would give to himself in 2013, he said:

Hey Namjoon, Don’t name yourself Rap Monster. You’re a human. You’re not a monster. You’re a beautiful human.

Namjoon has often said that one of his missions in life is to love himself. This struggle to love himself often reflects in his lyrics, and now also in his decision to change his stage name, as the old one had some negative connotations to it. Perhaps Namjoons struggle with self acceptance, self worth and self love is one of the reasons that identity is such a big theme for him, as he is trying to figure out how to be a Namjoon that he can love. RM is a stage name that is more aligned with that goal as it leaves more room for flexibility and change.

Map of the Soul

The subject of identity is explored to the fullest in the Map of the Soul era that started with Map of the Soul: Persona in 2019, followed up by Map of the Soul: 7 in 2020.

Map of the Soul is inspired by the ideas of psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Carl Gustav Jung. The words persona, shadow and ego that are used in Map of the Soul come directly from his theory. BTS uses these concepts to examine different parts of themselves and their career over time. A lot of this era feels like a final examination of the question that Namjoon has been asking himself in different ways throughout his entire career: Who am I?

In Intro: Persona, the opener to both albums, Namjoon writes about his journey with identity in the first few lines of the song:

“Who am I,” a question that I’ve been asking myself for my whole life

A question that I will probably never be able to find the right answer for

If I were answerable with only a few words,

God wouldn’t have created all those many beauties

Namjoon realizes that he will probably never have a clear answer to the question of “who am I?” and he accepts that. He recognizes that his identity can’t be summed up by a few words or traits and that this isn’t a bad thing. Sometimes it can feel more secure to build our entire sense of identity around one aspect of ourselves (I am a straight A student, I am an underground rapper) but that puts us in a position without flexibility and without space for growth. As different parts of ourselves clash with each other we end up feeling scattered, unsure of who we are, and angry at ourselves. It’s only when those different parts of ourselves are allowed to co-exist that we can find peace and a true sense of self.

BTS will talk about this idea in other songs too, like in Idol, where Taehyung sings:

There are tens and hundreds of myself within me

Today, I greet my another self

They are all me after all,

so I just run rather than worrying

The notion also comes back in the speech that BTS held for the United Nations in 2018. The final message of that speech was to find your name and find your voice by speaking yourself. There was a lot of talk about losing your identity as a young child in favor of fitting in, and Namjoon encouraged everyone to be their own person and to find their own voice back. Throughout the speech he mentions how he is both an idol and artist, Kim Namjoon and RM, and also just an ordinary 24 year old guy. He is saying that he can be many things at once and strives to love all those different parts of himself at the same time.

In the final verses of Intro: Persona, Namjoon boldly and confidently claims that he is no longer ashamed of the different parts inside of him, writing:

Yeah my name is R

The ‘me’ who I remember and who people know

The ‘me’ who I created by myself to speak my mind

Yeah, I might have been deceiving myself, I might have been lying

But, I’m not ashamed of it, this is the map of my soul

The lyrics continue, focusing on duality, complexity and balance within his identity, accepting the different parts of himself that coexist together even if they clash:

Dear myself

You must never lose your temperature

because you don’t need to be warm or cold

Though I might sometimes pretend I’m good and sometimes pretend I’m evil,

this is the barometer of my direction that I want to set

The ‘me’ who I want to be

The ‘me’ who people want

The ‘me’ who you love

And the ‘me’ who I craft

The ‘me’ who’s smiling

The ‘me’ who’s crying sometimes

Living and breathing every second, every moment, even now

Within these lyrics there is a tone of direction and intent rather than one of being lost and questioning. This tone is very strong throughout the entire Map of the Soul concept, especially in ON, suggesting that maybe “finding” your identity isn’t about anxiously defining every single part of your personality, it’s more about choosing who you want to be and boldly pursuing the world as an incomplete human being. In the end, there is no simple answer to the question of “who am I?” and that’s okay.

All lyrics translations come from Doolset. Visit the website for additional notes and interpretations of BTS lyrics.

[shewhoworshipscarlin]

Bert Williams

Bert Williams (November 12, 1874 – March 4, 1922) was a Bahamian-born American entertainer, one of the pre-eminent entertainers of the Vaudeville era and one of the most popular comedians for all audiences of his time. He is credited as being the first black man to have the leading role in a film: Darktown Jubilee in 1914.[2]

He was by far the best-selling black recording artist before 1920. In 1918, the New York Dramatic Mirror called Williams "one of the great comedians of the world."

Williams was a key figure in the development of African-American entertainment. In an age when racial inequality and stereotyping were commonplace, he became the first black American to take a lead role on the Broadway stage, and did much to push back racial barriers during his three-decade-long career. Fellow vaudevillian W. C. Fields, who appeared in productions with Williams, described him as "the funniest man I ever saw—and the saddest man I ever knew."

Williams was born in Nassau, The Bahamas, on November 12, 1874, to Frederick Williams Jr. and his wife Julia. At the age of 11, Bert permanently emigrated with his parents, moving to Florida in the United States. The family soon moved to Riverside, California, where he graduated from Riverside High School in 1892. In 1893, while still a teenager, he joined different West Coast minstrel shows, including Martin and Selig's Mastodon Minstrels in San Francisco, where he first met his future professional partner, George Walker.

He and Walker performed song-and-dance numbers, comic dialogues and skits, and humorous songs. They fell into stereotypical vaudevillian roles: originally Williams portrayed a slick conniver, while Walker played the "dumb coon" victim of Williams' schemes. But they soon discovered that they got a better reaction by switching roles and subverting expectations. The sharp-featured and slender Walker eventually developed a persona as a strutting dandy, while the stocky Williams played the languorous oaf. Despite his thickset physique, Williams was a master of body language and physical "stage business." A New York Times reviewer wrote: "He holds a face for minutes at a time, seemingly, and when he alters it, bring[s] a laugh by the least movement."

In late 1896, the pair were added to The Gold Bug, a struggling musical. The show did not survive, but Williams & Walker got good reviews, and were able to secure higher profile bookings. They headlined the Koster and Bial's vaudeville house for 36 weeks in 1896–97, where their spirited version of the cakewalk helped popularize the dance. The pair performed in burnt-cork blackface, as was customary at the time, billing themselves as "Two Real Coons" to distinguish their act from the many white minstrels also performing in blackface. Williams also made his first recordings in 1896, but none are known to survive. They participated in a "Benefit for New York's Poor" held on February 9, 1897 at the Metropolitan Opera House, their only appearance at that theater.

While playing off the "coon" formula, Williams & Walker's act and demeanor subtly undermined it as well. Camille Forbes wrote, "They called into question the possible realness of blackface performers who only emphasized their artificiality by recourse to burnt cork; after all, Williams did not really need the burnt cork to be black," despite his lighter skin complexion. He would pull on a wig full of kinky hair in order to help conceal his wavy hair. Terry Waldo also noted the layered irony in their cakewalk routine, which presented them as mainstream blacks performing a dance in a way that lampooned whites who'd mocked a black dance that originally satirized plantation whites' ostentatiously fussy mannerisms. The pair also made sure to present themselves as immaculately groomed and classily dressed in their publicity photos, which were used for advertising and on the covers of sheet music promoting their songs. In this way, they drew a contrast between their real-life comportment and the comical characters they portrayed onstage. However, this aspect of their act was ambiguous enough that some black newspapers still criticized the duo for failing to uplift the dignity of their race.

In 1899, Williams surprised his partner George Walker and his family when he announced he had recently married Charlotte ("Lottie") Thompson, a singer with whom he had worked professionally, in a very private ceremony. Lottie was a widow eight years Bert's senior. Thus, the match seemed odd to some who knew the gregarious and constantly traveling Williams, but all who knew them considered them a uniquely happy couple, and the union lasted until his death. The Williamses never had children biologically, but they adopted and reared three of Lottie's nieces. They also frequently sheltered orphans and foster children in their homes.

Williams & Walker appeared in a succession of shows, including A Senegambian Carnival, A Lucky Coon, and The Policy Players. Their stars were on the ascent, but they still faced vivid reminders of the limits placed on them by white society. In August 1900, in New York City, hysterical rumors of a white detective having been shot by a black man erupted into an uncontained riot. Unaware of the street violence, Williams & Walker left their theater after a performance and parted ways. Williams headed off in a fortunate direction, but Walker was yanked from a streetcar by a white mob and was beaten.

The duo's international success established them as the most visible black performers in the world. They hoped to parlay this renown into a new, more elaborate and costly stage production, to be shown in the top-flight theaters. Williams and Walker's management team balked at the expense of this project, then sued the pair to prevent them from securing outside investors or representation. Filings in the suit revealed that each member of the team had earned approximately $120,000 from 1902 to 1904, or $3.5 million apiece in 2019 dollars. The lawsuit was unsuccessful, and Williams and Walker accepted an offer from Hammerstein's Victoria Theatre, the premiere vaudeville house in New York. A white Southern monologist objected to the integrated bill, but the show went ahead with Williams and Walker and without the objector.

In February 1906, Abyssinia, with a score co-written by Williams, premiered at the Majestic Theater. The show, which included live camels, was another smash. Aspects of the production continued the duo's cagey steps toward greater creative pride and freedom for black performers. The nation of Abyssinia (now Ethiopia) was the only African nation to remain sovereign during European colonization, repelling Italy's attempts at control in 1896. The show also included inklings of a love story, something that had never been tolerated in a black stage production before. Walker played a Kansas tourist while his wife, Aida, portrayed an Abyssinian princess. A scene between the two of them, while comic, presented Walker as a nervous suitor.

While the show was praised, many white critics were uncomfortable or uncertain about its cast's ambitions. One critic declared that audiences "do not care to see their own ways copied when they can have the real thing better done by white people," while the New York Evening Post thought the score "is at times too elaborate for them and a return to the plantation melodies would be a great improvement upon the 'grand opera' type, for which they are not suited either by temperament or by education." The Chicago Tribune remarked, disapprovingly, "there is hardly a trace of negroism in the play." George Walker was unbowed, telling the Toledo Bee, "It's all rot, this slapstick bandanna handkerchief bladder in the face act, with which negro acting is associated. It ought to die out and we are trying to kill it." Though the flashier Walker rarely had qualms about opposing the racial prejudice and limitations of the day, the more introspective and brooding Williams internalized his feelings.

In 1908, while starring in the successful Broadway production Bandanna Land, Williams and Walker were asked to appear at a charity benefit by George M. Cohan. Walter C. Kelly, a prominent monologist, protested and encouraged the other acts to withdraw from the show rather than appear alongside black performers; only two of the acts joined Kelly's boycott.

Bandanna Land continued the duo's series of hits and introduced a tour de force sketch that soon Williams made famous: his pantomime poker game. In total silence, Williams acted out a hand of poker, with only his facial expressions and body language conveying the dealer's up-and-down emotions as he considered his hand, reacted to the unseen actions of his invisible opponents, and weighed the pros and cons of raising or calling the bet. It later became a standard routine in his solo stage act, and was recorded on film by Biograph Studios in 1916.

Walker was in ill health by this point due to syphilis, which was then incurable. In January 1909 he suffered a stroke onstage while singing, and was forced to drop out of Bandanna Land the following month. The famous pair never performed in public again, and Walker died less than two years later. Walker had been the businessman and public spokesman for the duo. His absence left Williams professionally adrift.

After 16 years as half of a duo, Williams needed to reestablish himself as a solo act. In May 1909 he returned to Hammerstein's Victoria Theater and the high-class vaudeville circuit. His new act consisted of several songs, comic monologues in dialect, and a concluding dance. He received top billing and a high salary, but the White Rats of America, an organization of vaudevillians opposed to encroachments from blacks and women, intimidated the theater managers into reducing Williams' billing. The brash Walker would have resisted such an insult to his star status, but the more reserved Williams did not protest. Allies were few; big-time vaudeville managers were fearful of attracting a disproportionate number of black audience members and thus allowed only one black act per bill. Due to his ethnicity, Williams typically was forced to travel, eat and lodge separately from the rest of his fellow performers, increasing his sense of isolation following the loss of Walker.

In 1910, Booker T. Washington wrote of Williams: "He has done more for our race than I have. He has smiled his way into people's hearts; I have been obliged to fight my way." Gene Buck, who had discovered W. C. Fields in vaudeville and hired him for the Follies, wrote to a friend on the occasion of Fields' death: "Next to Bert Williams, Bill [Fields] was the greatest comic that ever lived."

Williams' stage career lagged after his final Follies appearance in 1919. His name was enough to open a show, but they had shorter, less profitable runs. In December 1921, Under the Bamboo Tree opened, to middling results. Williams still got good reviews, but the show did not. Williams developed pneumonia, but did not want to miss performances, knowing that he was the only thing keeping an otherwise moribund musical alive at the box office. However, Williams also emotionally suffered from the racial politics of the era, and did not feel fully accepted. He experienced almost chronic depression in his later years, coupled with alcoholism and insomnia.

On February 27, 1922, Williams collapsed during a performance in Detroit, Michigan, which the audience initially thought was a comic bit. Helped to his dressing room, Williams quipped, "That's a nice way to die. They was laughing when I made my last exit." He returned to New York, but his health worsened. He died at his home, 2309 Seventh Avenue in Manhattan, New York City on March 4, 1922 at the age of 47. Few had suspected that he was sick, and news of his death came as a public shock. More than 5,000 fans filed past his casket, and thousands more were turned away. A private service was held at the Masonic Lodge in Manhattan, where Williams broke his last barrier. He was the first black American to be so honored by the all-white Grand Lodge. When the Masons opened their doors for a public service, nearly 2,000 mourners of both races were admitted. Williams was buried in Woodlawn Cemetery in The Bronx, New York City.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bert_Williams

[pregnant-piggy]

One coffee please (1/2)

Blaise Zabini x reader

This is part of all I want for Christmas is fanfiction

This is written for @kalimagik‘s writing challenge

Words: 2.9k

A/N: this was my first time properly writing for Blaise and it will definitely not be the last. With this fic he has grown to be a character close to my heart and I am already excited to write more for him!

Prompts: 'what are you talking about? This is brilliant!' and 'you're cute when you're mad'

It was definitely winter. The wind was blazing around in the streets, howling around the corners of high buildings. It was blowing against the windows of houses and apartments, creating loud thrums in the ears of the people inside. The skies were dark grey in the night and icy blue in the morning. The sun was shining but it was cold. Streets froze overnight, but thawed before anyone woke up.

Even the thickest sheets and blankets couldn’t keep you warm as you lied in bed. At night you curled up to a ball to keep all the heat close to your body, but in the morning you woke with cold toes and fingertips. The sheets didn’t reach far enough to your neck and even your woollen jumper couldn’t protect you from the freeze. It was now more than ever that you longed for someone to cling onto in the night, to have their body heat against your skin. You wanted to feel the warmth that came from someone’s arms around your waist and the heat of someone’s fingertips on the skin under your jumper.

Instead you woke up alone in your apartment, the wind pounding against the tall windows. A moan escaped your mouth as you stretched out and the little bones in your back cracked. The cold air of your room flew over your arms and goose bumps formed all from your wrists to your armpits. A shiver ran over your spine, sliding from your neck to the dip of your back. A cold spread through your entire body from only putting your arms above the sheets.

Resting your arms atop of the blankets over your duvet, you sighed and opened your eyes, greeting the darkness that came with the winter's mornings. The sun that woke you in the summer was now still hidden behind the horizon and the tall buildings in the city. The skies were dark blue with clouds that coloured orange from the street lights. Maybe if it had been clear you could have seen the stars.

You had to get out of bed eventually. The longer you stayed in, the more you would have to hurry and the thought of that was almost enough to get you out of bed. But instead you rubbed your face and stared at the ceiling until the alarm from your phone sounded through your room. You lifted your body half in your bed and reached for your phone on the nightstand. Your cold fingers had turned off the alarm before you could even see the screen of your phone; waking up like this had become a habit lately.

After five minutes even your social media couldn’t keep your mind from the fact that useful time was passing and you tossed your phone somewhere on your bed. After a deep breath you threw the blankets and sheets off your yet warm body and swung your feet over the edge of your bed. If it wasn’t for the rug under your feet you would have crawled back into your bed. But instead you got up from your bed and walked to your closet, contemplating just wearing sweats.

You settled on a black pair of jeans and a dark green jumper with a turtle neck, so that you would still be warm. After freshening up and making yourself look acceptable to the outside public, you put on your shoes and stole an apple from the fruit bowl in the kitchen on your way to the door. Breakfast would come later. Right now you had to make sure you were on time.

_-_-_-_-_-_

Blaise wished he hadn’t worn his hoodie to bed last night. He woke with a sweaty back and quickly threw off the sheets. He welcomed the coldness with open arms, feeling the air wrapping around his hot body and calming down his skin.

It took him fifteen minutes to take a short shower, brush his teeth and put on some clothes. Much different from what anyone would wear on such a cold day, Blaise chose for a simple button up and rolled up the sleeves up his arms, his tattoos peeking out.

He took his keys and wallet from the table next to the front door and closed the door behind him, while he put on the leather jacket and checked his phone for any messages. The door locked with a soft click and Blaise put his other arm in his jacket, his eyes glued to the screen of his phone. He reached into his pocket, fishing out his earphones and plugging them into his phone. The tones of his favourite song soon started to play and he relaxed as he walked out of his apartment building.

The streets under his feet were more slippery than they had been all week and it took Blaise a woman who nearly fell to realise. While the woman was helped by a passer-by, Blaise quickly turned around the corner and quickened his pace.

His hands were in his pockets, playing with the keys in his right one. The beat of the music synced with his steps and for a moment he forgot it was early in the morning and he wasn’t a morning person. He even arrived with a smile at the coffee shop he was headed for.

The bell of The Old Coffee House tingled when Blaise pushed open the door. The coffee shop originally was started by his grandfather, who had thought it would be a good thing to do with his retirement. The coffee shop was celebrating its thirtieth anniversary next year. It was the oldest company in the whole block and by tourists it was seen as a mark for the city. Blaise didn’t know if it was really that, but he was glad there were enough costumers.

His mother was managing the place from her home and she would come in once a week, to make sure everything went well. But it was mostly Blaise who had the control in the shop.

Well, Blaise and you.

You were Blaise's best friend. Your mothers were best friends and being forced to spend time together when you were kids had let to a connection to build. You had spent your whole lives together and when Blaise's mother was looking for someone to help her son in the coffee shop, you had been the first to volunteer. He had now been working with you for a year and it had only made that you were even closer now.

Blaise knew everything about you, from your morning routine to your favourite song and the dance you'd do to it. He knew what to do when you were down in the dump and what to give you when you were, as he called, ‘hangry’. He knew how to cheer you up and when to leave you alone when you were angry.

He had seen you at your best and at your worst. He was the first one to hear about your first date with your boyfriend and the one who was there when said boyfriend suddenly left you alone. He had seen you dancing on tabletops and crying in your bed.

Blaise was always there for you, because you had been there for him his entire life.

‘Well aren’t you happy for a Monday morning?’ you asked as you made your way into the space from the backroom, tying an apron at your back. Blaise rolled his eyes at you and took off his jacket. He hung it next to your coat behind the counter and took the apron from the hook, tying it the same way you had done. ‘What got you so cheerful?’

Blaise shrugged and leaned on the counter with his right forearm, watching you as you filled the coffee machine with coffee beans. You were humming along to a song that was playing over the radio while you turned on the machine and made two cups of coffee.

The grinding of the coffee beans sounded over the radio and your humming got softer as you lost track of where the song was. Instead you nodded along to the beat that was still vaguely audible over the low buzzing.

Blaise snickered when you tried to hit the high note and your hum failed to reach it. You shot him an annoyed look and he only shrugged at you, grinning as he turned around and he heard the huff from your lips.

Soon you fell into the routine that had developed over time. Since neither you nor Blaise were morning people, it was soon found that it was best if it was just silent. The only sounds were the radio and the occasional talk with a customer. It was a serene scene for anyone to walk into, seeing two people work in silence in a place that could be such a buzz in the afternoon.

While you helped a costumer to their coffee and muffin, Blaise leaned against the counter and watched you. The sunlight came in from the window behind you and the silhouette of your face was painted against a canvas of golden light. The edges of your figure were outlined by a golden thread. Your cheeks glowed up and your eyes seemed like the brightest gemstones Blaise had ever seen.

Blaise would be the last one to deny that you were pretty. Over the years he had seen you grow into the wonderful person you were now, inside and outside. There was something about your appearance that told the world how you were. With just one glance someone could see you as the passionate person you were, but Blaise knew that there was so much more to it than just passion.

‘Are you alright?’ you asked and Blaise was pulled from his thoughts. He flashed you his smirk and nodded before he took his own coffee mug. You raised your eyebrow at him as you noticed that what was in his mug was not coffee.

‘What’s in there?’ you asked, stepping closer to Blaise, ordering him to show his mug with your finger. ‘It smells like cinnamon.’

‘That’s because it has cinnamon in it,’ Blaise shrugged and he took a sip.

‘Well, of course,’ you said, rolling your eyes. ‘I figured that.’

Blaise lifted the mug to drink again, but you stopped him by grabbing his wrist and taking the mug from him. You eyed it suspiciously and smelled it. Over the cup you made eye contact with Blaise and with your eyes you pleaded him to tell you what it was.

‘I made it,’ he said, suddenly feeling insecure. He had never told anyone about it. He knew it was silly, but he was afraid someone would judge him over his coffee.  ‘I was messing around at home once and this kind of came out of it… It’s not much, but it does help keep you awake.’

You squeezed your eyes before you carefully took a sip and Blaise watched you, biting the inside of his mouth anxiously. You swallowed and held your eyes closed a little longer. Blaise shook his head and turned away from you.

‘I know it’s rubbish-’

‘What are you talking about?’ you cried out, turned Blaise back to you. ‘This is brilliant! You made this?’

The look of adoration on your face was enough for Blaise to start smiling and the blood rushed to his cheeks. He nodded and chuckled when he saw the stun on your face.

‘Why would you hide this from me?’ you asked, tilting your head. ‘What more have you been hiding?’ you added playfully, meaning nothing but still making Blaise fear for his secrets.

‘Nothing you should know about,’ he joked, yet there was a hint of nervousness in his voice that went unnoticed by you. You laughed and pushed Blaise away as you welcomed the next costumer and went back to work.

_-_-_-_-_-_

It had frozen overnight. Or better said, it was freezing at night. It was still dark outside and the sun was hours from rising. Only very few people were awake at this time.

You were sunken deep into your dreams, under layers of blankets to keep the cold from numbing your toes. The cold didn’t bother you yet, but it sure would when you would have to get out of bed in the morning. Luckily, it was Sunday what meant that the coffee shop was closed today and you could stay in bed for as long as you liked. Plans for today had been cast aside and you had nothing to do but sit on the couch in three jumpers and binge your favourite series.

However, fate seemed to have a different thought.

It was narrowing three when the ringtone of your phone started to sound clear and disrupting in your room, waking you from your sleep. In the dark you patted down your nightstand to find the thing that was making the sound and when you found your phone, your thumb automatically went to turn off the alarm. You dropped your phone back next to your pillow, but the sound kept going and you realised it wasn’t your alarm, but someone was calling you.

A loud groan passed your lips as you turned on your back. Squeezing your eyes against the light from the screen and an even louder groan escaped your mouth when you noticed who was calling you.

‘What do you want, Blaise?’ you said, your voice groggy with sleep and annoyance.

It wasn’t unlike Blaise to call you in the middle of the night when he knew you would be asleep just to mess with you, but yet every time he called you worried something had happened to him. However, when you heard his chuckle at your sleepy voice you knew that there couldn’t be something too wrong.

‘Nice talking to you too,’ Blaise said and you could hear the slight double tongue. Of course.

‘Blaise it is two in the morning, what do you want from me?’ you groaned, rubbing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose as you heard Blaise laugh again.

‘I might have accidentally locked myself out of my apartment as I left earlier this night,’ he said. ‘And the janitor won’t answer my calls.’

‘I wonder why,’ you mumbled.

‘Can I come over?’

You sighed and shook your head. Of course you were friends with the guy that forgot his keys in the middle of the night. ‘Sure, come over.’

‘Great, because I am already at your door.’

Without even reacting to that you hung up and put your phone back on your nightstand. You looked in the dark at the pile of blankets on top of you and cursed Blaise under your breath. In the freezing cold you left your bed and patted over to the front door of your apartment. Looking through the peephole in the door you watched Blaise for a minute. His broad shoulders covered with the leather jacket that he never left without were the first thing that caught your eye and you swallowed before you took a step back.

You unlocked the door and opened it. The cold air from the corridor seeped inside the hall of your apartment and you knew that it was over with the heat that you had been trying to create the whole night. You shivered as the coldness reached your bare legs; despite freezing to death, you still couldn’t sleep with long pants.

‘Get inside, idiot,’ you hissed and pulled Blaise inside before he could say anything. He chuckled and ruffled your hair with his cold hand. Taking of his jacket and hanging it next to your other coats, Blaise eyed the distance between the living room and your bedroom curiously.

‘If you wait a minute, I’ll get the couch ready for you,’ you said and you walked to your bedroom, looking at the blankets and deciding which ones you could miss. However, you hadn’t even taken one blanket before Blaise had crawled into your bed, waiting to see what you would do.

Defeated you stood at the foot end of you bed, the end of a blanket in your hands. As much as you tried not to look, you couldn’t help notice Blaise’s bare chest. Your eyes scanned his torso and lingered at his tattoos. It wasn’t like you had never seen Blaise without a shirt, but it just had never happened that he was sitting in your bed without a shirt.

You swallowed down the sudden nervous tingle in your chest and tried to act nonchalant as you shrugged and put the blanket back in its place. You walked around the bed and settled next to Blaise, leaving enough space so it would be appropriate, but still getting a little closer hoping he’d bring you any warmth.

‘Alright, then we’ll do it like this,’ you muttered as you turned down the light and lay down.

And indeed as you had thought, you felt the heat radiating off of Blaise, engulfing you in a warm embrace. The cold that had been pestering you all night was now suddenly gone and you felt you fingers and toes get back some feeling.

‘You owe me breakfast,’ you mumbled as you closed your eyes and your head turned to the side, Blaise’s hot breath stroking over your face as you fell asleep.

- - - - - -

taglist

general HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @mytreec @lilulo-12fanfiction @emmaloo21 @kashishwrites @ananad1 @figlia--della--luna @kylosleftbuttcheek @mrs-malfoy-always @thefandomplace @magicwithaknife @mt2413 @aesthetically-hailey @superbturtlemakerathlete @the-natureofme @missswriter @hahee154hq @chloer1275​

[jasminesgardens]

Preparation

Set Up

Musical Episode Mechanics

Conclusions and Links

Heavily inspired by the Buffy the Vampire Slayer Musical Episode: Once More, With Feeling, I put together a Musical Episode for my own players that went down beautifully and here’s how you can too!

Preparation: 

1. Have your players (whether subtly asked or not, up to you) send you a playlist of songs that relate to their character, their relationships and scenarios they’ve been through in the past. Sort through these songs into “Main Plot” and “Scenarios That Could Happen”. 

Prompt Examples from my Musical Episode:

Main Plot: Prologue/Opening Narration, First Song (Morning Sequence), The Whole City is Singing, Figuring Out What is Happening, NPC Karaoke Songs, Player Karaoke Songs, A Call to BBEG, Battle Songs, Reveal of BBEG, Revealing Deepest Darkest Secret, Aftermath, End Credits and After Credits.

Scenarios That Could Happen: Dream Sequences (What Ifs, Foreshadowing or Nightmares), Reflection on their Pasts/Families/Homes, Attraction/First Kiss/Getting Together/Examining the Relationship/WooHoo Moments, How the Party is Seen, Arguments/Make Ups, Praying to their Gods, Positivity/Negativity, Stress/Learning to Relax, Fight Training, Opening Up/Confessing Feelings (Romantic, Friendly, Truthful), Cheering Up, Anger/Protests, Celebration/Drunken Songs, Death Saving Throws and Continuing the Fight.

The playlist is public so just search up DND: The Musical Episode by Princess Jasmine Flies Away.

2. Ask your players, if you haven’t already, for their deepest, darkest secret. The secret they would take to their grave. A secret about their lives or a fear they have could be the prompt. (This is what will be revealed later to the whole Party!)

As I was heavily inspired by the Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s Musical Episode, I used the episode to dive board my idea of what my “Main Plot” would be and explore the themes of secrets, speaking your truth and aftermaths. So even after my Musical Episode, my players and their characters were still thinking of what was revealed and what to do going forward with their relationships and themselves. That’s what will make your Musical Episode fun but also thought-provoking and memorable.

Examples from my Musical Episode:

“I’m going to die in six months.”

“I fear I’m on the path to becoming my step-father.”

“I fear my mission from my Goddess is to simply be the sidekick.”

Set Up:

1. Curse your Party. 

Example (taken from DNDSpeak and tweaked, warning a little gruesome): I sent my party on a mission to rid the City’s Sewers of the Oozes and Slimes that lived down there as the previous adventurers sent had not returned. While giving hint, and a child NPC who asked them to look, that recently a lot of pets had gone missing in the area around the Sewers. 

With every Ooze and Slime encounter, a voice would call out asking the adventurers to leave, getting more and more angry, desperate and threatening as they approached their hiding place. 

In this evil Bard’s hidden lair, they discovered the Bard had been stealing pets and using them to make into instruments. Not allowing the Party to leave, they fought and the Bard lost but just before he did, the Bard cursed my party. 

The players killed the Bard with fire so all the set up and hints in his lair burnt with him but if they hadn’t, they would have gotten hints of his worship to a certain demon and how he was planning to give his instruments as a gift to them.

I let my party spend the rest of the day doing whatever they liked and waited until the next day for the curse to take affect (which I recommend).

2. Setting Up Music

As I DM on Skype, I used JQBX for everyone to be able to hear the songs at the same time live but you might find other platforms or just be able to bluetooth to the speakers and use Spotify as you play in person (lucky sod).

Then completely shock your friends by awakening them to a performance. Start with a dream sequence or a morning montage or a title sequence! Have fun!

Musical Episode Mechanics:

1. When to Sing:

After the initial shock of the Opening of the Musical Episode, the party will believe the Musical Episode is a curse inflicted on just them (If you’re like me, it isn’t. It’s the whole city because that’s hilarious.) but unaware of when they will start to sing again.

I recommend it every time a party member gets emotional, reaches a perfect opportunity for a scenario song or simply plot development. These songs hint towards characters’ feelings for themselves, other characters, certain scenarios and maybe even their deepest, darkest secret so every time it happens, play the song that incredibly reads them to filth and ask them to roll a constitution saving roll, needing to beat 13. If they fail, write a tally mark for which player and wait for your finale to reveal what for.

I rewarded my players with 10XP each song as it gave them confidence to perform, improv and just get silly!

2. BBEG:

Through researching into what this curse could possibly be, introduce the demon Kacophony the Musical. They’re dramatic, crave entertainment and force people to sing for them with fiery magic, which can lead some of their victims to become Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru in Star Wars: A New Hope. The party will know Kacophony is responsible as you’ll sprinkle in the hints of burnt victims after each Musical Number, the same amount of bodies as the tally marks you’ve been collecting.

Now in my Musical Episode, I put Kacophony the Musical in the place they were cursed. My players went earlier than I would have liked so don’t be afraid to say “not the right time” for Act 3 and help them circle back to there later, after a full day of singing and dancing.

Example: I had a singing woman lead the party back to the Sewers ominously after quite a hearty song.

When discovered, Kacophony is waiting there with their goons for the “cast of today’s musical”, revealing that the person who cursed them gave a huge sacrifice to troll the city with this ridiculous curse, give Kacophony a few souls and to embarrass the party.

Example: My Evil Bard offered all his gruesome instruments and his own life to Kacophony. 

Kacophony the Musical will reveal two things.

First, what all the constitution saving rolls have been for. Every failure (a roll under 13) has led to someone’s end aka the burnt victims they have seen throughout the day. Tell your players how many people they have each ended with their rolls and if your party is as morally good as mine, you will have people ready to fight. If not, embarrassing them through song is enough for one.

Which brings me to the second reveal, Kacophony the Musical is a Musical Demon (obviously). Musicals reveal what characters are really thinking to their audience; their hopes, their dreams, their deepest, darkest secret. 

Have your party fight this demon only to be unable to not say their deepest, darkest secret to one another (it’s up to you if its based on roll or unescapable), causing a ton of big reveals, suspense and tension, which Kacophony can use as a getaway. 

It’s up to you if you want the party to defeat Kacophony the Musical. I didn’t as I preferred the idea of Kacophony being a showman who hides behind their spells and goons, reads the party to filth and then just leaves when it gets boring, leaving them on the mind of the party long afterwards but if you do want your party to defeat them, then make it so. 

Kacophony the Musical’s Character Sheet: Inspiration from Rahadin from Curse of Strahd and Cantus by u/Jacknerik

3. The Curse and Aftermath:

Finally, the curse lasts for 24 hours, so when your players awaken the next morning, the curse will be gone but no one will forget how yesterday changed their lives and how flipping awesome your session was. 

In the aftermath, my players had a lot of role-play heavy conversations which led them to build up their relationships and their own storylines and a city of people who either were trying to remember the awesome lyrics they sang yesterday or are now afraid of music (possible Footloose inspired sequel adventure).

Conclusion:

Either way it was a lot of fun and certainly went down as one of my best sessions as a DM.

Thank you so much for reading, my name is PrincessJasmineFliesAway on everything else and my credentials in DMing can be described as Wizarding World 2.0, Shifting into the Star Wars Sequels and Barbie Mermaida the Campaign. Goodbye.

[kairoscelrosis]

Ocean Eyes - A Leonard “Bones” McCoy x Reader Fic

Series: Star Trek TOS

Pairings: Leonard “Bones” McCoy x Reader, Implied Spirk

Characters: Reader, Leonard “Bones” McCoy, James T Kirk, Spock, Montgomery Scotty, Nyota Uhura

Trigger Warnings: No triggers apply. 

Word Count: 5,202 words

Author’s Note:

This is my first fic! It has a small amount of fluff, but its mainly full of a plot revolving around the two mentioned relationships. 

You can also find this fic on Wattpad. 

Summary:

Y/N is confused about her feelings for Dr. McCoy. When Spock and Kirk come to know, they devise a fantabulous plan to bring both of them together. 

I was lying down on my bed in a darkened room. Thoughts wandered, but always stopped on one thing. Rather, on one person. It’s weird. I had always liked him a lot – platonically, of course. This was different. “What the hell?”, I said out loud. But that didn’t help the storm raging in my mind. My alarm beeped. 1530 hours. “Damn.” I huffed, got changed, and left for the Bridge. My eight-hour shift was about to begin.

______________________________________________________________

On the bridge

“Captain.”, I said in a confident, but tired voice. “Lieutenant Y/L/N reporting for Beta Shift.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” Kirk replied without looking towards me. “Please report to Mr. Spock for this shift’s agenda. You will be taking over from him for the Beta shift.”

I walked over to Mr. Spock’s science station. “Commander Spock. Lieutenant Y/L/N reporting.” His head bobbed in a small greeting.

Spock and I had known each other since my academy days when he was my professor for most subjects. He was my role model and mentor, and I wanted to follow in his footsteps. He was also my closest friend on the ship.

After briefing me with the progress he had made on the current star charting assignment and about his inferences on the nearby nebula, Spock walked over to Kirk, and whispered something. Kirk nodded and said, “Please continue with our research assignments. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn. I’ll be in my quarters.”

  ______________________________________________________________  

Spock’s POV

After filling in Y/N, I walked over to the Captain and quietly said, “Captain, I would like to speak with you.” He nodded, gave his usual orders, and both of us left the bridge for his quarters.

Once in the sanctuary of his quarters, the Captain turned to me, and asked, “What is it, Mr. Spock? You seem concerned.”

I replied in the affirmative, and said, “My concern is for Lieutenant Y/L/N, sir. She seems to be ‘out of her elements’, as would be expressed in Terran colloquial.”

The Captain offered a small, though rueful smile at this. “I agree with you Mr. Spock. She is not one of the outspoken ones, but she does seem a bit… subdued. Perhaps we should ask her what the problem is?”

“Perhaps. Though I have another suggestion sir. We are going to take a short shore leave on Star Base 12 in a few hours. Why not relieve Lieutenant Y/L/N early from her Beta shift so that she can recuperate and make the most out of this shore leave?”

“Yes Mr. Spock. An excellent idea. Anyhow, we take shore leaves only once in a blue moon, so why not allow her to rest a bit before going back out into the dark. I believe we will establish orbit around Star Base 12 by 1800 hours. I myself will relieve her at 1830 hours. Thank you for bringing this to my notice Mr. Spock.”

“My pleasure.”

______________________________________________________________

A few hours later…

Y/N’s POV

After several attempts to refuse an early shore leave and in complete denial of any need of this favour, I had finally beamed down onto Star Base 12.

Along with Scotty.

You might wonder why I was accompanied by the Chief Engineer. That was because of my resistance to go down. Kirk had asked Scotty to accompany me so that I did not sneak back onto the ship. I sighed inwardly.

Wanting to make the most of this time, I asked Scotty to come along with me to a street market. I loved the vibe of street markets – the dim lights, the muffled voices, walking around – it was the perfect ambience to relax.

“Hey Scotty! Come on!” I turned and called to Scotty, who was dragging his feet like a bored teenager. “Ach lass! I didn’t know that I’d have to babysit ya today. I wanted to go to the bar.” He moaned.

“Okay, okay, Lieutenant Commander Scott. Lieutenant Y/L/N will not hold you for long. Come, roam around with me for a while, and then we’ll both go to the bar.”

His face lit up like that of a child on Christmas morning. After that, there was a certain bounce in his step, not stalling anymore.

While scanning the stalls, I saw a small, wooden stringed instrument which piqued my interest. Picking it up gingerly, I held it in my hands. It felt right.

“Ah lass! What are ya doing with a ukulele?”

“You know the name of this instrument?” The shopkeeper asked, visibly surprised.

“Yes of course! My gran used to play this really well. She got it as an heirloom from her mother, who got it from her mother.”

I strummed the strings of the ukulele tentatively. A beautiful sound, though not very melodious, emerged.

“Can I buy this? It’s beautiful.”

The shopkeeper smiled, “You have really good taste. I can see you play this beautifully. That will be ten credits. If you want, I can teach this to you as well.” Her offer seemed genuine.

“Thank you so much!”

  ______________________________________________________________

At the bar

I let an evil grin emerge. Scotty had his head down. I had known his weakness, and now I had the chance to escape.

Well, escape is a strong word, but I had been forced to come down – so it was justified.

I had just drunk a glass of iced tea, not preferring to be hungover the next morning. I had never really liked drinking anyway.

As I was sneaking out of the bar, I saw HIM coming in. My heart immediately jumped into my mouth, beating like crazy. I hid behind the table where an employee was granting entry to the guests. He gave me a weird look but did nothing about me being there.

Once certain that HE was gone, I brushed my clothes, held my head high and started to walk towards the door, when I heard someone call me, and I froze.

“Y/N? Whatcha doin’ here? I thought ya didn’t drink.” The southern drawl rolling smoothly off his tongue.

“H-Hey Doc. Yeah, I don’t drink. I was just giving Scotty some company. I’m going back to my room now.”

“’Kay, great! Have a nice evening.” He sauntered away to where Scotty lay knocked out.

This was getting harder day by day.

______________________________________________________________

The next morning

I was back in my quarters on the Enterprise. Last night had been great, though I won’t admit this to anyone.

After encountering Bones at the bar, I had gone to the shopkeeper who had sold me the ukulele, and I sat there till late at night, learning the basics. I picked up the chords pretty quickly and was onto my first song by midnight. The street shops were open till 2 in the morning, and the shopkeeper seemed keen on teaching me, so I figured why not learn as much as I could.

She told me she had many copies (yes, actual paper copies!) of songs. She called them scores or sheet music. She gave me all the copies of scores she possessed, and I was so grateful!

Rand smuggled me back onto the ship by manning the transporter. She was going down in a while and didn’t mind disobeying Kirk.

The clock flashed 0800 hours as I was snapped out of my thoughts about the previous night. I wanted to utilize the rest of my shore leave efficiently. I got up, showered, and walked to the replicator. When nothing came out even after swiping the card multiple times, I let a sigh out and decided that I’d have to go to the mess.

I swaggered along the deserted decks and corridors of the ship, making no effort to conceal myself. Most people were down on the planet, including the two I wanted to avoid.

Walking into the mess, I ordered popcorn (weird choice, I know) and sat down. Spock, who had entered the mess just after me, slid into the seat opposite me, both of us falling into a comfortable silence. We often had our breakfast together. I was one of the people closest to Spock.

Putting down the Vulcan equivalent of an apple, Spock looked at me and asked, “How are you Y/N? You seemed extremely sombre yesterday. That is unlike you.”

The corner of my mouth lifted slightly at his concern. “I am fine.” I replied. “I guess the work got to me. Yesterday was a nice break.” So much for not telling anyone, I thought, amused. “I don’t think Kirk thought of relieving me early yesterday. Someone else was behind that move.” I gave a teasing grin. Spock’s eyes crinkled in a semblance of a grin.

Once done with our respective meals, I said, “Come to my quarters tonight, Spock. I’ll tell you about my evening and you can tell me about yours. Maybe I’ll even play you something. Bring your lyre as well. I wanna hear you play it.”

Spock bobbed his head, confirming that he’d be there.

  ______________________________________________________________

That evening

I heard knocking at the door. “Come in.” Spock walked in with his Vulcan lyre in hand. I gave him a smile.

Though my quarters were small, I had made enough space for us to sit comfortably, without invading each other’s space. He sat down on the straight backed, cushioned seat which he preferred, and I pulled my desk chair to sit on.

We talked about the events of last night, me reciting everything other than the event when I ran into the Doc (that incident was kept to myself for the time being). Spock told how he had done some work in the science lab, read a book, and practiced playing the lyre (though he didn’t need any).  

“You said that you were going to play for me?” It was more a request than a question. “Yeah.”, I replied. “I bought this old Terran stringed instrument called the ukulele yesterday, and the lady who sold it to me taught me how to read sheet music and also helped me play my first song. It’s “Ocean Eyes” by Billie Eilish from 2016. I’ve heard it before. You wanna hear it?”

Spock lifted his eyebrows in classic Spock fashion, essaying his agreement.

I rarely sang, but when I did, it was only in the privacy of my own quarters. Spock had heard me sing, though not very often.

I started strumming, trying to pick the beat from where I had to start the vocal.

I've been watchin' you for some time Can't stop starin' at those ocean eyes Burning cities and napalm skies Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes Your ocean eyes.

No fair You really know how to make me cry When you gimme those ocean eyes I'm scared I've never fallen fro…

 I faltered. Spock nodded, his eyes intently watching, eyebrow perked. I could see something glint in his eyes but didn’t understand what it was. I resumed the strumming.

I've never fallen from quite this high                                                                Fallin' into your ocean eyes Those ocean eyes.

I've been walkin' through a world gone blind Can't stop thinkin' of your diamond mind Careful creature made friends with time He left her lonely with a diamond mind And those ocean eyes.

No fair You really know how to make me cry When you gimme those ocean eyes I'm scared I've never fallen from quite this high Fallin' into your ocean eyes Those ocean eyes.

I had been nervous, not because it was my first time playing this song in front of somebody (because I knew Spock would never disregard the importance of beginning, and subsequently growing as a person), but because this song reminded me of a certain someone. If Spock connected the dots, I don’t know what his reaction would be, and whether he would tell McCoy or Jim.

There was silence for a moment. Spock opened his mouth to say something, but then, his communicator beeped. Flipping it open, he said, “Spock here.”

Kirk’s voice cracked through. “Mr. Spock. I request you to please report to my quarters. I have an urgent matter to discuss with you.”

Spock looked at me, that glint still there. I nodded my assent and picked up his lyre from my bed and handed it to him, as he stood from his chair to leave.

I mouthed, “See you later”, and then the door shut.

Lying down on my bed, I decided that it would be best to go to sleep.

But sleep just wouldn’t come.

______________________________________________________________

Spock’s POV

I had had a nice evening with Y/N, though the lyrics of her song still perplexed me. I was reminded of someone by those lyrics, but I can’t seem to determine whom. My brain was “short-circuiting”, as Jim would say, but I was not able to put a finger on who the song pointed to. I had known Y/N long enough to know that this wasn’t just “nothing”, though that’s what she wanted me to believe.

I didn’t know what to make of Jim’s call either. He had planned to stay ashore for at least 12 more hours, but he now was aboard the ship. Though Jim’s words had been authoritative, his tone was friendly and indicated that this had nothing to do with the ship.

I knocked on the door of Jim’s quarters, and heard a small “Come in”. When I walked in, Jim was seated at his desk, his hands intertwined into a tent. “A ‘deep in thought’ position” I thought.

“Jim. Is something troubling you?” Jim looked up and gestured me to sit down. I complied. “No Spock, nothing is troubling me. It’s just, I think I know now why Y/N has been so quiet.”

I gave him a quizzical look.

“Spock, I believe you were with Y/N when I called you?” I nodded. I couldn’t understand where this was going.

“What were you doing?” One of my eyebrows lifted in confusion. Why was Jim asking that?

“Jim, I don’t think you should ask that. I think, on Earth, this is called snooping. Though you are a good friend of Y/N’s, it is my moral responsibility not to tell you anything about what she told or did in confidence.”

Jim’s eyes expressed the same warmth as his smile when I said that. “True gentleman you are, Mr. Spock. Okay, I’ll tell you why I asked that question.” My eyebrows perched higher, indicating my interest.

“I was going to Y/N’s chamber to admonish her for not following her Captain’s orders.”

My expression moved from interested to inquiring.

“I had ordered Y/N to stay on the planet for the entirety of the shore leave. However, when I went to her room at the lodging, she wasn’t there. She had told McCoy that she would be in her room. I knew where she would be – in her quarters, aboard the Enterprise. I walked to her quarters, mock-fuming, and was about to knock, when I heard her start singing.”

I opened my mouth to rebuke Jim for eavesdropping, when he interrupted, “I know Spock, but I had no intention to eavesdrop. I was just drawn to her voice and that song. I love that song.”

“Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish?”

“Yeah, that one. I was surprised that you didn’t hear me standing outside, what with your enhanced hearing.”

I paused for a moment before I spoke, staring past Jim’s shoulder, my eyes resting on his laurels. “I had been thinking about something.”

______________________________________________________________

Jim’s POV

Spock had apparently zoned out. That was a first.

“I think I can guess what you were thinking about.”

Spock’s eyebrows flew up. “Do you?” he enquired.

“Yes Spock, I think I do. And I think you do too, now. You have arrived at a conclusion, and I would like you to share it with me.”

Spock seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then turned to face me. “I think this has something to do with Dr. McCoy.” My smile turned into a grin. Spock was REALLY smart with this stuff for a person who swore by logic. Spock took this as a confirmation that he was correct.

“I assume I am correct. However, I do not fully understand.”, he remarked.

“My dear Spock, I was surprised that you inferred this much.” If Spock’s brows could go higher, they would have. “It is my hypothesis that Y/N likes Dr. McCoy, but she is in denial.” Spock’s face expressed a mixture of distaste and bewilderment. I chuckled.

“I have known Y/N since our academy days. She is slightly younger than me, but she was always a prodigy. Always top of the class. Not just with marks or grades, but with her work ethic as well. She has never been in a relationship; she never felt the need to be in one. Now, she reminds me a lot of someone I know. Maybe that’s why both of them are such good friends.” I looked at Spock. His face radiated a hint of pride.

I continued. “And now, she is faced by this overwhelming feeling, one I doubt she ever felt before. And she is uncertain, how to act on this feeling, or whether to act at all.”

Realization dawned on Spock’s visage. Then, it was replaced by dubiousness and even a hint of distaste. “But why Dr. McCoy?” he asked. I let out a hearty laugh. Everyone knew of the friendly banter between him and McCoy.

“No Jim, I am serious. I care for Y/N deeply, though not in a romantic sense. If the doctor did anything to hurt her, I would disapprove.”

By “disapprove” I knew Spock would go on a killing spree. And the first would be Bones. I grinned inwardly. This was starting to get interesting, and I now had a chance to tease Spock.

“Isn’t disapproval a human emotion?” I tried (and failed) to keep the smirk off my face.

Spock looked at me dead in the eyes. My stomach suddenly became a bottomless pit. With an intense gaze, he whispered, “Yes.”

______________________________________________________________

Bones’ POV

I was on my way to the Transporter Room when Uhura said that she had a message from Joanna. Her messages really made my day. I asked her to transfer the message to the intercom in the Transporter Room.

I walked into the transporter room, which seemed to be deserted. “Never mind”, I thought. I would have preferred to listen to the message alone, so I didn’t mind. I switched on the intercom and confirmed that I had reached the Transporter Room.

Immediately, Joanna’s message started playing.

“Hey Papa!”, her sweet voice chirped. I smiled. “I was a few light years away from Earth, so decided that why not spend my holiday on our home planet. I went to Georgia and checked on our house and the farm. Everything is in place. I am off to India to spend a week or two. I have a month before I join the Farragut as their nurse trainee. I am really excited! Tell me if the Enterprise’s schedule matches with the Farragut’s, so that we can meet soon. Love you and meet you soon!”

“Wow”, I breathed. “What an exciting young lady.” I thanked Uhura, and then typed up my message on my PADD and sent it to her. I still like sending her emails, though they were considered ancient. “Hmm.” I hummed. “Forever the sensualist.”

______________________________________________________________  

Later that evening

I was trying to find the bar where Scotty had asked me to join him, when I caught a glimpse of Y/N coming out of a bar. I had heard that she had been accompanied by Scotty onto the surface, so I started walking towards her. I heard some laughter and turned to look in the direction of the commotion. Seeing nothing of significance, I faced again towards my destination, searching for Y/N, but she had disappeared. “Weird”, I mumbled.

I stepped into the foyer and was about to enter the bar when I turned around, wondering where Y/N had gone. And there she was! I called out her name and made small talk. Then we both went our separate ways.

I spotted Scotty and hurried towards his seat. “Got started without me, huh?”, I teased. Scotty, who had had is head down, lifted it and slurred, “Why are yer cheeks red, eh McCoy? Had a swig on the ship, huh?” I knitted my eyebrows together. I hadn’t been drinking. I dismissed it to be the cold.

______________________________________________________________

A few hours later

A blinding light flashed in my eyes. “Who’s it? What’re you doin’?” I caught a glimpse of a blue shirt. It reminded me of someone.

“Y/N?”

“Bones why do you have to drink so much? You always get hungover and start hallucinating. Then I have to take care of you. Dammit, I’m a Starship captain, not a doctor.”

“Ah Jimmy boy. Take me home now, will ya?”

______________________________________________________________

The next morning

I woke up with a splitting headache. When I opened my eyes and looked around that I realized I was not in my quarters. Hell, I wasn’t even on the Enterprise.

“Shit.” I cursed softly.

“Finally, you are up, huh? I really think you could’ve given Sleeping Beauty a run for the money.”

I huffed. I knew that voice well. Maybe too well. And I knew what that meant. “I’m sorry Jim. Just got flown away with the drinking last night. I don’t even remember you picking me up.”

“I think we should stop booking an extra room for you. You always end up crashing in mine during shore leaves.”, Jim remarked sarcastically, getting up from the reading chair and putting down his PADD.

“Drink this. You’ll feel better.” He handed me a glass of lemonade.

“What, you’re gonna use my own hacks against me?”

“Shut up and drink it.”

I accepted the glass and started taking sips from it.

“You know, you said something last night which made me think a lot.”

“Well, that’s new.” I remarked with a smirk.

Jim feigned annoyance, then continued. “You know, when I came to pick you up last night, I was wearing a blue shirt.”

“Mh-hm”

“And when you saw me, you said, ‘Y/N?’. Were you expecting her or something?”

“Hmm. I don’t remember saying that actually. Maybe that was because I saw her last night before going into the bar. She was hiding from somebody, I guess. And I was surprised to even see her at a bar – she doesn’t drink, you know.”

Jim nodded. “Do you know where she went?”

“She said she was going to her room.” I said, matter-of-factly.

“’Kay.”

______________________________________________________________

That evening

Jim had left for the Enterprise – he had some work onboard. I decided that I’d roam around the markets for a while. I never was a fan of shopping, but Christine always asked me to take small memorabilia from each planet I visited for Joanna. She seemed to like it – so I didn’t mind too much.

Hands tucked behind my back, I strolled through the stalls. I came across a shop selling ancient art prints. There were abstract paintings, movie poster recreations and the like. I picked up a print of warm toned abstract art and a recreation of the Titanic poster for Joanna. Suddenly, a small necklace and bracelet caught my eye. It didn’t seem to have any lustre, but it had an aura that I was drawn to. Entranced, I asked what it was.

“It is Vokaya – a rare Vulcan jewel.” The shopkeeper said. He was Vulcan as well. So much for being in a green-hobgoblin-free zone. But really, I was mesmerised by this ornament, and ended up buying it.

Walking back to my room, I huffed. I had never been an impulsive buyer. Thinking about the peculiar feeling that had filled me, I walked down the corridor and entered my room.

And collided with someone standing straight like a rod.

I groaned. I knew who this was.

______________________________________________________________

Y/N’s POV

The next morning

I finally got out of my bed – I had barely gotten any sleep. I kept tossing and turning, thinking about my encounter with Bones last night and Spock’s reaction to me singing that song. He must have figured it out by now.

“Well – how bad can the situation get?” I murmured.

Before I could go into the washroom to get ready for the day, I heard a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

In stormed Jim Kirk – his expression unreadable.

“Captain? What happened? Is everything alright?”

“Jim, please; I’m off duty.” Sitting down on the chair where Spock had sat last night, he said, “Calm down Y/N. Nothing’s wrong. Can’t a friend come to talk to another friend when everyone else is on shore leave?” He flashed that “I am charming” smile. I rolled my eyes.

“Sit down Jim. Let me get dressed. Then we can have breakfast together in the mess.”

Jim shook his head. “I think we should eat in my quarters.”

That was new. Why did Jim want to have breakfast alone? “Okay…” I said, sounding hesitant.

Jim gave me a smile, a genuine one. “Don’t worry, Y/N. Really. It’s nothing.”

Knowing Jim for so many years had made one thing clear:

When he said, “It’s nothing.”, there really WAS something.

______________________________________________________________

Jim’s POV

When I entered Y/N’s quarters, she looked a mess. She had always been an extremely graceful and likeable person – after all, we both were nerds. But today, there was something off. She had eyebags beneath her eyes, and her tired demeanour indicated that she hadn’t gotten much sleep.

But I could not bail out on Spock’s plan. So, it would have to do.

Spock had come up with something which was very unlike Spock – but the man never failed to surprise me. We had done what we had to do with McCoy. It hadn’t been easy, because he would not sleep at night, and kept protesting when he woke up. But we had managed.

He was in his quarters, unaware what was happening. We had brought him aboard forcefully. He won’t sit there for long. We had to hurry.

“Hey, Jim. Let’s go.”

I snapped my head in the direction of the voice.

“After you”

As the door slid open, a small voice came through.

“I am sorry Y/N.”

And then, Y/N slumped unconscious.

______________________________________________________________

A few hours later

Bones POV

Spock and Jim had been acting weird. Like, they have always been slightly off their hooks, but today, there was an air of urgency about them.

That is extremely discomforting with Spock, because usually he is the patient one preventing Jim from running around like a headless chicken.

I was pacing around my quarters. I had been asked to stay inside until called. “Captain’s orders.”, Jim had said.

I huffed. Did he really think I was going to listen to him? It had been a while since they had left, and I decided to get some work done.

Before I could decide what was the agenda for today, my intercom whistled. “McCoy here.”

“Uhura here.” Her voice was strained. “Doctor, please hurry to the Bridge. There is an emergency. Y/N has fainted.” Cursing under my breath, I picked up my medical kit and rushed out of the door.

The doors of the turbolift slid open and I walked out, worried what had happened. I looked around but there was no one. Perplexed, I scanned the bridge for any signs of hastened evacuation. My eyes landed on a head poking from the Captain’s chair.

I walked to the chair and turned it around. Y/N was slumped unconscious in it. I took her pulse, but it was really faint. I took out a hypo and filled it with cordrazine. This was risky material, but it would wake Y/N up for sure. The hypo hissed as it pressed it into her forearm, and she stirred.

______________________________________________________________

Y/N’s POV

My head was throbbing. My eyes fluttered, but they won’t open. “Too bright”, I mumbled. Someone standing next to me said, “Computer, dim the lights.” The voice mumbled something, then stopped. My eyes opened, and then focussed on the person kneeling beside me. “Doctor?” I said, voice cracking.

“Yeah Y/N. What happened? Why did you faint? Why are you sitting in the Captain’s chair? Do you remember anything?”

I looked around, a bewildered look covering my face. I didn’t remember coming to the bridge. “I don’t know Doc… I don’t even remember coming to the bridge…” McCoy got up quickly and started examining me with his tricorder.

“No signs of mental trauma. Are you sure you don’t remember coming here?” I nodded. Looking around, I now noticed that the lighting was pinkish. “Hey Doc… why is the lighting here pink?” I failed to keep the smile off my face.

He chuckled. “I don’t know. When you woke up, I ordered the computer to dim the lights. It did, but the lights also became pink.”

Suddenly, it hit me. “Oh my God. I just remembered. This has something to do with Jim. And Spock. Jim had come to my quarters to invite me for breakfast. When I was about to walk out, somebody said, ‘I am sorry Y/N.’, and then I fainted.”

McCoy’s eyes had grown wide. He seemed angry. “Come on. Let’s find the two devils.”

I tried getting up but stumbled. McCoy held my forearm and held me up. Then he stopped. “Y/N. There’s a piece of paper stuck to your back.” Confused, I asked him to remove it. “It won’t come off.”

“What does it say?”

“Um… It says, ‘I’ve been watching you for some time; Can’t stop staring at those ocean eyes.’”

I froze. I turned around to face McCoy and opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

I couldn’t decipher the expression on his face, but I could see the gears turning in his mind. Would he be angry? Or upset? I half expected him to just shrug and walk away, when surprisingly he held my hand and kissed it.

I tilted my head like a confused squirrel, giving him a look of *almost* disbelief.

He chuckled, “Yeah I get it now. But before we get all sweet, I really wanna hunt down both the red-blooded and the green-blooded devils. They are not going to get away with this.”

I looked into his eyes, for the first time today.

And I felt myself sinking deep into the ocean of his eyes.

______________________________________________________________

Epilogue

Spock’s POV

We had watched the events on the bridge as they took place trough the security cameras. By we, I mean Jim, I and Uhura.

Uhura was laughing so hard that she was on the verge of choking. Jim was bursting with laughter and happiness, his cheeks red. The sight made me want to smile broadly.

“Oh my God Spock, you really are a genius. This was the cleverest shipping of two people ever!”

I tilted my head, asking him what “shipping” meant.

“Never mind. Let’s go now. Otherwise, Bones will hypo the lives out of us. And Y/N adding to the party is not going to be beneficial.”

He gripped my hand and lead the way, running through the corridors of our beloved ship.

And I didn’t mind being by his side one bit.

[youarejesting]

Key

Genre: [♤] = Angst                  [♧] = Adventure/Action  [♔] = Crack/Comedy  [♡] = Fluff  [❁] = Fantasy              [♢] = Thriller/Scary [☆] = Mature themes   [★] = Smut [➵] = Trigger warnings

Status:       [✎] = Projects             [✉] = Request   [✓] = Complete            [X] = Incomplete    [  ] = Coming soon       [∞] = On going

[Sitting in their/your lap]  ☆♤♡♔

[Saying another name]  ☆★♡♔ 

[Wearing their/your clothes]  ☆♡♔

[Fidgeting]  ☆★

[Getting your Period]  ☆

[Crying]  ♤♡♔

[Singing/rapping/dancing]

[Getting hard] ☆★

[Favorite part of you]  ☆★

[Thigh Riding]  ☆★

[Pregnancy Reveal] ☆★♡♔

[Perfect]  ♡♔

[Walking in on them]  ☆★♡♔

[Walking in on you]  ☆★♡♔

[Being walked in on together]  ☆★♡♔

[Significant other is CEO]  ♡♔♤

First time for them  ☆★♡♔

First time for you  ☆★♡♔

Honeymoon night  ☆★♡♔

Star Signs:

Star signs as [RunBTS] Star signs as [BTS songs] [Part 2]

[BTS Text Imagines]

[Bangtan Sonyeondan and the Purple Magic]

BTS go to Hogwarts 

[BTS Birthday - One Wish]  ♡♣️

[Kisaeng]  ♡♣️☆♔➵✎

[Mall Santa] NJxJMxReader ♡♔✎

[Cold]  ❁♤☆♢♧➵

[Lost Boys]  ❁♡♤☆♢♧➵

[The Check-up]  ☆➵ [A Very Bad Day]  ♡♤♔✉  [Soul Food]  ♡♤♔✉❁ [Jinnie]  ♡♤♔❁♧ [Side Dishes]  ♢❁✎ [Even the cake is in tiers] ♡♤♔❁♧

1. [Music is the spark that sets my soul on fire]  ♡✉✓            2. [Dance is the celebration of the flame]  ♡✉✓ [Baby girl]  ♡✉ [Bonnie and Clyde] Mafia au ♡♤☆♢♧✉ [Royal Pain]  ❁♡♧✎ [SEA]  ♡♤☆♧♔➵

[Feel Better]  ♡♧  [Blue Side]  ♤❁➵ [Steal my sunshine]  ♧✎ [I wish there were more good days] ♡♤✎

[Peace]  ♡✉ [Pizza]  ♡✉ [The bomb]  ☆♤♡♧♔♢➵ [Pandemonium]  ☆♤♡❁ [Namjoon the giant and his tiny friend] ♡♤❁ [Talk is Cheap]

[Death need no invitation]  ☆★♤♡❁➵  (same storyline as [Me and the ghost in number 23] but a one-shot instead of chapters) [Herb] [Herb.2]☆★♡♤♔➵ [Kitten]  ☆★✉ [Beach]  ☆★✉ [Wild space]  ☆♡❁ [Daylight]  ♡♤♔♧❁ [I Kendo it]  ♡♤♔♧ 

[Horror movies]  ♡♔ [Love Listening] [Part 2]  ☆★♤♡➵ [Stars]  ♡✉ [Dangerous]  ♡✉ [Um...]  ♡✉ [Like real people do]  ♡✉❁  [Video games] ☆★✉ [Salad]  ☆★✉ [Ramen]  ☆★✉   [Temptation] ☆★✉ [Mad]  ☆★♤♡♢➵

[I will wait (Some say)]  ♤♡ [Dude]  ♡✉ [Stretch]  ♡✉ [Icecream]  ♡✉ [Autism]  ♡✉ [Lap] Mafia au  ☆★♤✉    [Jealous]  ♡♤✉ [Actions Speaker Louder Than Words] [Part 2] [Part 3] ♡♤✎

[WAITING FOR YOU ANPANMAN!] ♡☆♔❁♧♤

Your life may be considered a little unsavory, but you would call it dangerously cozy. When a group of crime fighting young men put your plans on hold. Over run with criminals they work to protect the innocent and stop these malicious acts of violence.

[I’m Dead]  ☆★♤♡❁♔✓➵

Woken one night by memories of the past you meet a mysterious man on your balcony. He is cocky and charming and you find yourself swept up in something that is bigger than you can imagine. Why? Because he is death. And because your meeting is long overdue.

[Curse]  ♡♤❁♔✓

A modern-day fairy tale whereby seven young princes born under King Bang’s greed cannot find true love. Unless they break a special spell, called the ‘Bang curse’. In order to break the curse, Prince Seokjin must be loved by a ‘Blue’ blood, by a royal. That seems almost impossible when you have a pig nose. (based off the movie Penelope)

[Wash Out]  ♤♡❁♔♧✓

Taehyung and his best friend Y/N are Dolphin trainers at Wash Out; Marine Wildlife and Theme Park. When the nerdy marine biologist and resident veterinarian Doctor Kim Namjoon goes missing; the two friends form a ragtag team with Taehyung's rival Seokjin and a…. Fish?

[Midnight Circus]  ☆♤♧  

Traveling through the back alleys is the midnight circus. Step inside and fill your curiosity by gazing at the freaks of the night. IF YOU DARE.

[Family Secrets]  ☆★♤♡♔♧

Suga is a spy who threw away his name years ago. His latest mission requires maximum stealth he must find a wife, child and house. Taehyung aka 103899V is a child who has been the subject of extensive experiments and can now read minds, and you, you are a hitman. Each of you must keep your secrets from one another. A truly one of a kind family. (inspired by ‘Spy x Family’.)

[Choices]  ☆♤♡❁♔♧

Soulmate Au

[Quarantine]  ☆♤♡➵✓  ( ★ in separate marked chapters)

ALERT! The city has shut down!

While you happen to be visiting the BigHit building. The government puts out an Alert across the entire Seoul area. Banning anyone from stepping outside, while they disinfect the streets. But you aren’t alone, you happen to meet the international Kpop boy group ‘Bangtan Sonyeondan’.

[Femme Ft. BigBang, TXT, NCT, BLACKPINK]  ☆♡★♤♔✓  

(Femme is french for female. I mean NO offense to any of my fellow LGBTQIA+ community when I use this term) The Year is 3019. Some Females (Femme) were preserved cryogenically in an effort to prevent extinction. Using Elite computer algorithms a Femme is matched with her Male applicants to find the perfect match. Male applicants are usually selected whilst in school and housed together to create trust before they are matched with their femme. It is common for a Femme to be paired with 3-5 applicants due to the shortage and the compatibility between each. But you, you have 7.

[Me and the ghost in Number 23] ☆★♤♡❁➵✓  

(the same storyline as Death need no invitation just extended into chapters instead of a one-shot)  Moving into your new apartment on the dance academy campus, you hear is haunted. You practice your routines with the ghoulish resident in the second bedroom. Things get heated, except you know ghosts are cold. so…

[Witching Ft. Monsta X]  ☆♤❁♧✓

After your brother goes missing, you find yourself in Seoul with nothing but a prosthetic limb as the only clue to what might have happened. Circumstances lead you to a coven of seven handsome young men. But they happen to be a well-known coven that goes by the name ‘Bangtan Boys’.

[Tiny Tan - Limited Edition]  ♔❁♧♡✓

It is your first time buying proper merchandise, there are new chibi figurines and the first person to order will receive a limited edition set. But what happens when BTS have gone missing without a trace and a few days later you receive your package. The box says congratulations, you open to find your limited edition figures, they look so lifelike. OH WAIT! it’s cause they are.

[Light it up]  ♔❁♧♡☆✓

In Bightville there is never any nonsense, the scariest thing one might face is tripping at the roller-disco. But, when you move to the small town, crazy things start to happen. Suddenly people are going missing without any leads. It’s when your neighbour Seokjin goes missing that things get serious because now his friends suspect you!

[BTS Among Us] ♔❁♧♡♢☆♤➵✓

You have a crew of 11, well now 10. The captain has been killed. Whatever it is doesn’t appear to be human but from the evidence you gathered, whatever it is, is pretending to be one of you. Who is it and why?

[BTS 365 Prompts] ☆★♡♤♔❁♧➵✓

Seven boys. Seven days a week. 365 prompts. Find your birthday and read your special prompt. (feel free to use them.)

[MANIA]  ☆★♤❁✓

At eighteen everyone takes a blood test to find out their blood types. A, B, or O. Each blood type represents the person’s secondary gender Alpha, Beta or Omega and can be Dominant (+) or Recessive (-). When small thin Yoongi receives his letter he doesn’t expect A+. He knew there was no way he was an Alpha especially not a dominant.

[Hope in the Sheets]  ☆♡★♤♔➵

You held many titles: his neighbour, colleague, wingman… well, more likely a wing-woman, yet most importantly, you were his best friend. You had been friends since you were born. Between the two of you, you were younger; barely, but he never let you forget it. He always seemed to ruffle your hair and tease you, which could get rather annoying but he made up for it by treating you to things. What if a drunken one night stand between you and your best friend Hoseok leads to more complicated situations? Your reckless twenties are cut short as you find yourself suddenly responsible for something a little more.

[Sly like a... ?] ♧♔❁♡♤X (☆★ in seperate marked chapters)

Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

[Sparks of the Heart]  ☆★♡♤♔❁   

In a world where Humans live alongside humanoid computers. They can download software, use the Internet, send e-mails, or receive calls. A learning software helps mould their personality, habits, and knowledge, to make life much simpler. They must stay charged up in order to continue working properly. But there are a small few that are changing. Feeling.

[Seoul Mates]  ☆♡★♤♔∞

Finding your Soulmate is one thing trying to keep them in Seoul another. The Bangtan Boys each have a different Soulmate mark. Follow their journey to discover their other half.

Story request OPEN!

[BTS Asks]  ☆★♡♤♔➵∞

You ask, they answer.

[Jodo-Myeon National School of Magic]   No set storyline or story format.

[Incarceration]

The world's craftiest criminals held in the most expensive and elaborate prison. What do they do to capture your attention? 

[getitinbusan]

Destination: Jungkook

A super soft wedding fic from the Golden Closet Universe and the companion piece to September 1st

mood board & playlist

Happy 24th birthday to the love of my life 💜 I wish I could give you more than words you'll never see.

Nerves always took over your stomach during landing. That,  coupled with the reason for the flight and you were an anxious mess.

The plane had begun its long slow descent, "You look kind of green are you okay?" Your best friend squeezed your hand. 

"It's just...usually Guk does this thing...he sings to me and rubs my neck when we land."

She looked at you and shook her head, "Yeah, I'm not gonna do that."  

You laughed, "I don't think you're taking your maid of honor duties very seriously." 

"Ughh, I can't believe you're getting married before me." She sighed, "It's not fair, Yoongi and I are the ones who introduced you. It should be us." 

You couldn't help the grin that formed on your lips. Sworn to secrecy, she had no idea you'd gone shopping with Yoongi, the ring had been in his pocket for weeks. "It'll be you soon babe, maybe this weekend will inspire him."     

Checking the key card you stopped at 303. Why you couldn't stay in the same room together was beyond you. 

The door was just about to click closed when his running footsteps echoed through the empty hallway. Strong arms wrapped around you and soft lips fell on yours. He did his trademark hum while he kissed you, his happy song for his happy place. 

"I can't believe how much I've missed you."

Pulling him closer you inhaled him in. He was the scent of home that had been lacking for the last four days.

His smile got bigger until his dimples finally showed up, "It's late are you tired?"  He tucked your hair behind your ear, "We've got a pretty big day tomorrow." 

"Can I just enjoy you alone for a few minutes?" 

"Is everything okay?" He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you onto his lap. 

Nuzzling into his neck you curled into him. "It's so stupid." 

"Tell me," he rubbed circles on your back. 

"I'm happy and I love you so much but I'm terrified and nervous and I haven't been able to talk to you about it because you've been here planning the perfect wedding for me ... and I'm selfish because I just wanted you to hold me and tell me it was all going to be okay."

He sighed in relief, "Of course it's going to be okay," he gently laid a kiss on top of your head. "Don't you know every fairy tale ends with and they lived happily ever after?" 

You couldn't help but smile, Jungkook was such a hopeless romantic. "Why can't we stay in the same room tonight?" 

Changing the mood he tickled you while pulling you back into the bed, "Because it's bad luck, and it would ruin the surprise." 

"We live together, I've seen you naked a million times so unless you've been hiding something really well I don't think I'll be surprised."

Just being back in his arms draped you in a sense of calm. His loud heart beat accompanied by the rise and fall of his steady breath lulled you into a much needed sleep. 

Your eyes crept open and looked at the clock, only 11:43. Laying your head back down you looked at Jungkook snoring peacefully. As much as you longed to keep him here until morning you knew he was superstitious. Leaning in to wake him with a kiss he  smiled and pulled you back against his chest. 

"Hey sleepy head."

He groaned under you as you poked him.

"You'd better get out of my room Jungkook, it's almost midnight."

Sitting up he rubbed his eyes and checked the time, "Shit."

He grabbed your hands in his and walked to the door.

"I guess I'll see you in a few hours?" 

Wrapping your arms around him tightly you really didn't want to let him leave.

"Nothing to be nervous about. You've got a dress right?"

You nodded.

"Then all I need you to do is show up." He kissed your forehead and stepped into the hallway. 

"Jungkook" he turned back, "I'll see you soon." 

You were glad that from the moment your feet hit the floor there was a barrage of things to be done. Mimosa's with a massage, nails, hair, makeup. Jungkook had made sure you wanted for nothing. 

You had no idea what to expect, you'd heard vague phone calls and caught small glimpses when he was planning but he'd really kept you in the dark.

Jungkook loved surprises and to his credit he was tremendously good at them. He wanted you to have a perfect stress free wedding giving you only two tasks,

1. find a dress

2. show up and say I do

The door swung open and your best friend stood grinning from ear to ear. 

"I know I'm your maid of honor but I hate you so much right now," she pouted. "I don't know how anyone will ever top what Jungkook has done for you down there." 

You laughed and it felt good to break the tension. "You specifically mean Yoongi topping it for you? Don't worry he already asked for my help."

Her jaw almost hit the floor. 

"Shit, damnit, I didn't say that! Don't tell him you know, he'll kill me!" 

Dancing around the room she squealed in happiness. "Would you be mad if I asked Jungkook to plan it?" 

"Is it that good? Is he already down there, did you see him?"

She nodded, "Everything is amazing, and he's so happy and he looks so handsome" 

You exhaled deeply, "I guess there's only one thing left to do."

She threw open the door, "Let's go get you married!" 

Sunset in Jeju, there wasn't a more perfect time or place.

Wooden boards lay across the sand leading to the exact spot Jungkook had proposed. There, up the row of candles under the fairy light arch stood the man who would be your husband.

Nothing but him existed beyond that. All you could see was his handsome face and small nervous smile, his hands wringing together to keep from fidgeting and  the reddening of his ears as you got closer. 

Surrendering the bouquet you had to touch him, you needed his hands in yours. Steady and firm, together you grounded each other. 

"Y/N,  People think our story started on a rain soaked camping trip. I don't believe that's true, that's just where it got good. Our story began in the stars,  It's the only possible way to explain how much I already knew I loved you. I promise to fill your life with happiness, love, and blanket forts for as long as you'll let me. Y/N, I love you so much and can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you.

"Jungkook,  Not a day goes by that you don't make me fall in love with you a little more. Not a day that you don't make me laugh or that you make me feel loved, and from here on out there will not be a day that we'll be apart. I can't wait to see what our future holds, and I hope that 50 years from now our grown children will think we're crazy because we're still building forts in our living room.  All that matters in my life is that I get to love you. Jungkook, you'll always be my iron man and I love you 3000." The tears started but he managed a laugh at your private joke.

You swept his tears away with a brush of your thumbs and he kissed you. Husband and wife. 

Everyone was gone. The last goodbye was said and you made your way back to the reception area. 

You stopped to watch him. He was sitting by himself, a smile on his face staring up into the sky. Your husband was so beautiful.

Walking towards him you caught his eye and his face lit up like all the stars in heaven. You held out your hand, "One more dance?" 

He wrapped his arms around you and you swayed together under the night sky. Waves rolled in place of music and the moon shone a personal spotlight down on you.

"Today was perfect Jungkook"

"It's not over," he stopped to lay a sweet kiss on your lips before smiling and taking your hand. 

Walking through the sand he led you to the seaside suite and slid the door open.

"This is the part where I'm supposed to pick you up and carry you inside." 

You couldn't help but laugh, "Are you asking me or warning me?"

"Close your eyes"

"So warning me?"

"Please Y/N."

Sweeping you up he carried you into the room and set you down. 

"Open!"

There in front of you the entire room was draped in white sheets and hanging lights. The bed sat inside the biggest fort you'd ever seen.

In complete awe you turned to look at him, tears in your eyes yet smiling from ear to ear. He knew he did good.

"Jungkook this is amazing!" 

He was so excited to show off.

"And look," he pointed to the tray beside the fireplace. "We've got champagne and all the stuff to make S'mores."

He buzzed around the room pointing out all the little details. 

"Jungkook, you forgot one thing." 

His face fell as he tried to figure out what important thing he'd missed. 

"What did I forget?"

Walking towards him your hands ran down his crisp shirt and undid his belt. 

"The part where you're supposed to make love to your wife for the first time…" 

Waking up to walls of white sunlight while wrapped naked against your husband's warm body you'd never felt more content. His dark hair was wild against the pillow and you couldn't help but stare and wonder how you were chosen to be the luckiest person alive. 

Soft snores let you know he wasn't deep in his sleep and he easily woke when you kissed his swollen lips. 

"Hey," he smiled, "what time is it?" 

Pulling the sheets off it was exactly what you'd hoped to find. Despite the evening's satisfaction his cock stood firm, thick and ambitious. 

"More?" he questioned with a smile.

You nodded while straddling his hips. "Sorry, I guess this is your life now." 

He sat up to wrap his arms tightly around you as you took him in. Bare chests pressed together and the feeling of your hearts beating in unison.

He kissed his way up your neck,  "And what a great life it's going to be." 

[sourbat]

39 for hammertooth if you'd like to...? 8)

Kissing tears from the other’s face.

Wow. So, this turned out big. There’s a kiss before the main one, but trust me when I say it doesn’t compare to the main course. 

I really hope you like this one. Thank you. 

Warning: set post Galaktikon 2

Toki dreamed. He dreamed he was in space, floating aimlessly amongst the vast black sea of nothingness. In his dream, he carried no physical form, no arms or legs to paddle through the weightless current, and no mouth to call his brothers who floated alongside him, there in spirit, and just as formless as he. In his dream, they sailed across earth’s outermost layer, drifting peacefully, coating the planet in a veil that soothed, healed it from the damage of a battle between gods. Toki stared outwards, at the distant stars, twinkling bright. He paid no mind to his spreading consciousness, instead taking delight in how he could stare the sun head-on without his eyes hurting, the glowing fogs of distant galaxies that radiated new colors Toki never knew existed, and the gorgeous purple and white swirl of their own milky way.

In his dream, he saw the earth beneath him, massive and blue. Eyeless, but all-seeing, Toki watched the glitter of city lights, the gathering of clouds, and the graceful turn of the planet. He saw how day transformed into night,  and in doing so, remembered a distant, faded memory. A promise he made. Something important. Toki watched the planet spin, days and weeks go by, trying to remember what it was, the promise, but couldn’t breach anything past those final moments before falling asleep. So he stopped, turning away from earth, and to the stars that flickered, at his nonexistent form, and went on, floated further into his beautiful, but admittedly lonesome dream.

…

He sailed further, vanishing into space,  consciousness never fully wavering despite the everlasting silence, the darkness and the unending sense of loneliness…

…

Something cut through the emptiness. A flat note ripped through space, waking Toki, startling him out of his peaceful state. An inkling, a sharp, painful reminder that he left something behind. With his mind now spread across the greater part of the galaxy, it took awhile just to wake up, to realize what was going on. The stars twinkled around him, and his brothers, just as equally spread and silent, quivered at the terrible sound. In his dream he was nothing more than a cluster of atoms, but the song somehow tore through Toki, attacking him, yelling and pleading for him to put himself back together. A terrifying noise. A mournful sound. An unending, unwavering rip of chords that called him forward, back to earth, to the atmosphere.  

And then came a dream of rain, of thunder and lightning, and Toki picking up each piece of himself, of Nathan and the others and, following the instruction of the grief-stricken, but now familiar tune, fixed them together and cast them into the storm clouds.

Toki dreamt of water, of falling into it and becoming one with the atmosphere. He dreamed that he was drowning. He feared he was, until a new sensation took hold. He was falling, away from the blackened sea, from the weightless joy of space, and was tumbling back to earth, falling, falling, closer to that frightening noise. The moment pieces of him sank into the clouds, collected and readied to be carried off into each droplet, the song became more rapturous, beautiful. Toki felt himself start to reform, and he could feel the fragments of a promise, and memory of him playing, helping orchestrate the music that now consumed his drenched, ailing soul.

He reached out with an arm that wasn’t entirely there, at the source of each trembling, wretched note. Each wonderful note. That familiar melody. 

His song.

 …

Toki woke to the gentle patter of rain hitting a window, and the sound of a monitor providing a steady, repetitive beep. Senses still trapped in a fog, Toki pushed a breath of air through his lips, and was surprised to discover the chapped edges and nerves stinging from the brief expulsion of air. The drizzle outside called for him to remain still. Toki couldn’t figure why, but thought he should listen to it. Still, he parted his mouth, breathing in the alien atmosphere, the strange, medicinal taste that lingered under each shallow inhale. In the distance, he heard footsteps, clicks, beeps, and voices.

Toki tried opening his eyes, to get a better sense of where he was, because he knew he wasn’t in his room. The bed underneath was too stiff, and the sheets so thin. Everything felt heavy and rigid, and whatever attempt he made to move, to wriggle in place, was met with an impossible weight. His legs were stones, and his throat was dry. His mind was alert, but his head was still fuzzy, and trying just to turn, to rub his face into the pillow made his brain feel stuffed and sick. His right arm was disturbingly numb.

The rain’s patter grew silent, and Toki possessed just enough strength to open his eyes, to meet with the harsh light right above him. His muscles squint, recoiled at the sudden change. The world was a massive, white blur, and as Toki wrestled with his consciousness, pulled himself awake and tried to focus his tired eyes on a shape, heard the monitor and turned towards it.

It was his monitor, he realized, staring wearily at the indistinct figure of a squiggly line jumping in tandem with his heartbeat.

He was…in a hospital?

Then came a sound. Something hard hitting the floor, and liquid splashing as it collided with a surface. Startled, Toki slowly turned his head, this time more capable, but felt a terrible ache that crawled up his spine and settled across his skull as he tried to locate the source of the noise.

He blinked. Standing before him was a dark, blurry figure.

“Toki?”

A pain filled Toki when he heard the voice. Magnus. He knew. Toki swallowed a lump, trying to make sense of why it hurt so much. He squinted his eyes, barely catching the outline of Magnus’ figure, the wild and indistinct form of his hair, and the long, thin design of his encroaching form. 

“…Ma–”

“Toki!” A sad, desperate cry.

Magnus approached, stepping over whatever mess he concocted, and hurried towards the bed before Toki could effectively focus on him. His bed shook, and Toki knew Magnus was there, gripping it, trembling above him. He stared at the blurry figure, barely making out the man’s silhouette, but spotting the rich color of his iris set upon him.

“You’re awake…”

The shaking of the bed ceased, now replaced with warm, shaking fingers outlining Toki’s face. Toki closed his eyes at the touch, racked with a terrible ache as hands cupped his jaw. Each touch was so affectionate, so tender, and for whatever reason, Toki felt starved of it. Warm hands. A thumb rolling over his cheek. He detected every distinct movement, no matter how soft, how subtle, and the pain that nestled in his chest grew bigger, heavier, and a terrible feeling, one Toki couldn’t put into words, gripped him. As if he had read Tokis’ mind, Magnus now hovered over him, and his lips gently applied soothing reminders across Toki’s forehead that this was real; his frantic, uneven breaths hitting Toki’s face was real; each pained touch that warmed Toki’s weakened state, reawakened nerves and filled Toki with energy, was real. It was supposed to calm him, but Toki shuddered, terrified by the thought that arose, the thought that this was real, that he was finally feeling something. 

Like he was waking up from a very long sleep.

Toki stared into the dark mass of hair and shadows. “Magnus?”

“Yeah,” his warm voice spoke, trembling and reverberating that same fear as it sank into Toki. Magnus pulled back. “H-how you doing, buddy?” 

Toki stared at the reconfigured form, of Magnus slowly coming into better view. Toki could make out the red surrounding Magnus’ eye, the blurry line that made up his smile. 

He swallowed again. “…tired.”

Magnus chuckled above him. “I’ll say,” he said, voice stressed and hoarse. “You’ve been sleeping for nearly a week.”

Toki went silent. A whole week?

It would explain why he felt so tired, muscles and joints stiff from a lack of movement, and body sore and weighted from underuse. Toki blinked, a little pleased when he reopened them to see some loose strands of Magnus’ hair finally begin to solidify. He could make out Magnus’ face better, and with it, could see what his long sleep had done. The man looked so worried! So concerned. So…so tired.

“Ams…awakes now,” Toki said, surprised by how a week-long rest could result in his voice so faint, lungs exhausted from a simple inhale.

Oh, but they had a battle! Right… a battle in space. No wonder he felt so weak.

“Magnus,” Toki called, heaving the man’s name out. “Dids we...”

“You did it, man,” Magnus said, voice falling to a barely controlled quiver. The space between them vanished once more, shadow returning to cover Toki. Magnus’s hands cradled his head, returning and supplying Toki with a touch that was still so intense, so refreshing despite only being away from him for a week. “You saved the planet. You all did…”

Toki smiled at the news, felt the ends of his eyes burn as Magnus continued to feed and refill his hungry, empty body with his touch. Toki closed them, choosing to focus on the relief of knowing it was finally over, and sighed under each welcoming sensation, the warmth of Magnus’ presence finally reentering his life after spending so long dreaming of the stars. He listened as Magnus informed him it was alright, that everyone was alive, that the others were waking up with each passing day. Toki sniffed, elated to hear that everyone was safe, that Skwisgaar would wake up soon after him, and they’d all be able to celebrate. Abigail was here. And Charles. His arm was broken, and he suffered some burns here and there, and he’d have to stay in the hospital for a little while longer to run some tests, but he was alive. Everyone was alive, and he made it back in one piece.

Suddenly, his smile started to burn, and Toki felt a minute rip spread across the center of his upper lip. He licked it, tasting the parting of his chapped skin, and winced at the sting of his own dry tongue. He swallowed. “Ams…thirsty.”

“Gotcha,” Magnus said, and parted from him to retrieve some water. The instant he did, the ache returned. It was less than a minute, but the yearn for touch, for someone to acknowledge and speak with him quickly consumed Toki’s thought. It was the same, unending feel of loneliness that had started to fill his dreams, and was returning with a vengeance for each second he spent alone.

But Magnus returned, cup and straw in hand, and the pain quelled long enough for Toki to get the first eager sips of liquid down his throat. His slip lip ached, but a few licks from his now moist tongue helped ease the pain. 

“Better?” 

“Yeah,” Toki answered, smiling up at Magnus.

Magnus leaned close and carefully placed a finger on top of the cut lip. “Here, let me get you some more,” he said after a quick check, and left his seat to refill the cup. As he did, Toki cast his tired eyes on the man, and he noticed there was something off about his appearance.

He was thin. Magnus was noticeably slimmer, enough that Toki could point it out despite his vision not being his best. There was that fine blur that suggested it might not be the case, but when Magnus returned to his bedside, Toki could see the finer details. His cheekbones were more pronounced, and Magnus, though happy, looked emaciated.

“You hasn’t beens eatins,” Toki stated, frowning. He tried lifting his left arm to touch Magnus and  feel the sharp counters that he had worked so diligently to fill with hearty meals and love, but could barely bring to lift it. 

Magnus took Toki’s hand into his own. “I’m sorry, Toki,” he said, smiling terribly at him. “It was…rough. I’ll regain it all back, man. Just you wait. You just…” Magnus paused, lowered his head and inhaled deeply. He glanced up. “You just focus on getting better, alright?”

Toki gave a weakened nod, but struggled to hold a smile. Magnus looked unwell. He almost looked as bad when Toki visited him in the hospital, right after he recovered from his surgery. He looked so much thinner! Exhausted. Broken down. It… hurt. Toki remembered working so hard to get his weight up, and Magnus lost it all in such a short period. He must have been so stressed, so worried looking after him. 

The threat of tears arose, and Toki shut his eyes.

“Something wrong?” he heard Magnus ask.

Toki shook his head.

“What is it?”

Toki sniffed, opening them. “You must... have beens so... w-worried,” he said, whimpering out the words. “Must… have beens a… really scaries week.”

Magnus stood up to get closer. He pressed his head gently against Toki’s. “You’ve no idea. But don’t worry; I’ll be ok.” He got closer, arms wrapping around Toki’s lying body, carefully sliding underneath him and stopping whenever Toki jerked from the random jolt of pain. Somehow, he managed to produce a recognizable hug. A strange, distant hug, but one Toki realized he desperately needed. The moment Magnus affirmed it, Toki wanted nothing more than to return it, to break whatever space remained between them and experience the entire embrace. He wanted to feel Magnus hold him, enjoy the fastened pace of his heart and the sheer joy of just having him close. But even this awkward, incomplete hug felt so good. So refreshing. New. Like he hadn’t…

Like he hadn’t hugged Magnus in a very, very long time.

Toki blinked. Tears began to roll down his face as he revisited his dream and saw himself, not quite alive, but not dead either, floating in space, watching the earth slowly spin with the passing days. How many times did it spin? Toki lost count, and his attention had turned towards shooting stars and far away galaxies once he grew tired of the revolving earth. He spread all over the cosmos, getting lost, forgetting, and it was only because he heard the song…

Toki sniffed. “M-Magnus?”

Magnus held him as close as he could. “Yeah, Toke?” 

Toki closed his eyes one final time to try and stop the tears, to fight the horrible realization that was unfolding before him. “H-how longs…how longs has Toki beens gone?” he coughed. Magnus shuddered at the question. Toki wriggled in place, even though it took up so much of his energy. Even though it hurt. He needed to see Magnus. He needed to know. Toki continued moving, pushing Magnus away until he had no choice but to face him. Trembling, Toki asked, “How longs did it… takes me to gets backs home?”

He saw the anguish in Magnus’ eyes.

“M-Magnus?”  he pleaded, shaking in his bed. He inhaled a deep breath, fighting through the soreness to get a full sentence out. “H-how longs haves you and everyones been waitins for us?”

Magnus recoiled at the question. Toki watched as Magnus brought a hand to cover his darkened eyes, to hide away a drop of the pain that was now emitting from him. Magnus trembled,  his lips curled into a thin line as he exhaled heavily through his nostrils. Finally, after some time, Magnus dropped his hand, letting it fall on top of Toki’s, while the other gripped the bed’s metal railing.

“You’ve…well, you’ve been away for a while, buddy,” he said, voice fighting between keeping a gentle composure, and wanting nothing more than to break and fall into a state of piteous cries.  Magnus’s mouth remained opened, and Toki watched as he sucked in a staggered breath. Magnus squeezed his hand.  “A little more than two months.”

Toki sank. “W-what?”

“You arrived just in time for New Years,” Magnus said, forcing a laugh. He squeezed Toki’s hand again, adding a little playful shake. “D-don’t worry…I’ll sneak in some champagne.”

Months.

The word hit hard. Months. He’d been away for months. He’d been dead for months!

No wonder Magnus was so thin. It’s been months. He waited for months. Abigail and the others…

Months.

“Oohhh…” Toki’s lips curled, bearing teeth before parting further. A pain stabbed at his heart. He let out an airy gasp, then broke into a weak cry.

“Hey, hey.” Magnus lowered, letting go of the railing to pet Toki, and then gave him a more affirming squeeze. “Hey. Shhh. It’s alright.”

“N-no ams not!” Toki wailed. He coughed, choking on uneven gulps of air. “I…I has been gones for… t-two months. I…”

Magnus pressed his face into Toki’s crown. “It’s ok,” he whispered into Toki’s messy hair. “I’ll catch you up on everything.” Another haughty laugh. “Spoiler alert: nothing important happened.”

Toki stared at Magnus’ heaving chest. “B-but, Magnus...”

“Toki, it’s al–”

“I l-left you all alones…” More tears fell, and Toki let out a staggered whine. “Yous waited f-for two months…and Toki… m-missed your…”

Magnus’ hand shook.

“…I m-missed your birthdays!” Toki bleated, and let out another whine once Magnus pulled him into a hug. A real hug.

His arm, though in a cast, ached. It burned, stung like nothing Toki ever felt before, but when faced with the pain, all he could think to do was bring his one good arm up to return the favor. He lifted it as high as he could, barely making it over Magnus. More tears fell as Toki felt the effect of their embrace, the warmth that he’d been deprived of for months.

“I missed y-your birthdays…and Christmas…” he bawled. His heart stung, racked with guilt. “I gots you n-nothings!” 

“Oh, no, Toki.” Magnus pulled away, breaking the hug in the process. He stared down at a wretched Toki, face ruined with tears, saliva and snot. Magnus shook his head at him. “No, you…”

He cupped Toki’s shaking jaw. Thumbs rolled over Toki’s cheeks, wiping away a few of the tumultuous streams of tears covering the younger man’s face. Toki winced, squinting each time Magnus tried, but failed, to cut off a stream, then felt another burst of heartache when Magnus gave up, succumbed and let a gentle flow begin to fall from his hardened face. He dipped forward, face covering Toki’s. Toki felt the sharp prickle of Magnus’ unkempt facial hair rub against him. Magnus drew his lips upwards, kissing Toki’s tear-stained cheek. The first stung just as bad as the hug, but then came the second, kissing another stream away and leaving behind an inkling of relief. Then, a third. A fourth.

Then Magnus parted. “You gave me the best damn gift of all,” he said, voice hoarse and raspy. He looked Toki in the eyes. “You came back. Like you said you would.”

Toki hiccuped a weak cry.

Magnus wiped away some of his own tears with his sleeve, then smiled. “Gift just…it arrived a little late,” he said, stuttering an awkward laugh that was far more genuine than the last. It was real, and although it sounded so off, and it ended with a sharp, staggered inhale, the truth that filled each word before it, the smile that lifted it, and the lighthearted beginning of its treble was more than enough to let Toki know Magnus meant it.

Hearing it, Toki sniffed, squinted his sore eyes, and then broke into another, more uncontrolled cry. He bobbed his head, trying to agree, trying harder to smile, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Magnus returned to him, attending to the opposite cheek, and kissed at the tears that wouldn’t cease flowing. With his weakened arm, Toki held on to Magnus, fighting whatever pains it brought him to have him close, even after his monitor warned him to stop, and the nurses raced in to demand what was going on and tell Magnus to have better control of himself.  He didn’t let go. He wouldn’t let go even after the nurses threatened to put him under, and another called for Mr. Offdensen. Toki held on, waiting for that moment when Magnus kissed all the tears and inner turmoil away, leaving nothing behind but the pain from a long battle and the promise that, that too, would soon be soothed by him.

[lifeofroos]

A/N: It’s not an AU in the sense that Loki has been training to be a skater all his life. It is an AU in the sense that Loki and Mobius are dating and Loki has a sibling relationship with Sylvie (Like it should have been). 

AO3 - KoFi

Bohemian Rhapsody, or: Mischief on ice

‘Loki, are you sure…’

Sylvie slammed her hand over Mobius’ mouth. ‘Skate!’

Mobius janked her hand away. ‘I didn’t say he shouldn’t…’

‘But you meant it. Now hush, let him show us what he can do.’

Loki heard his people yell from the side of the skating rink, but he hardly processed what they were saying. He was too absorbed into his routine.

‘He never told me he could figure skate,’ Mobius whispered to Sylvie. ‘I didn’t think he’d be so good at it.’

‘I said hush. And he isn’t that good.’ She almost took a step back when Loki landed a magnificent jump with a lot of spins that she didn’t know the name of.  ‘... or perhaps he is. I thought he was joking about landing a spot in the competition and we would get to see him fall flat on his face.’

When he looked over for a second, Loki could see his friends were surprised. Hilarious - and exactly why he hadn’t told them about his placement before. It was way funnier to suddenly drop the news on them. 

After he finished his routine, he slided to the side. ‘And?’

Mobius slowly nodded. ‘That went really well. Which makes sense, if you really got qualified.’ 

Loki nodded. ‘And you haven’t even heard my music yet!’ He dug an old ipod out of his pocket (‘He was skating with that? He could have fell and broken it!’) and handed it to Mobius. ‘It is already connected to the speakers. You only have to press play.’

‘I know how this works…’ Loki didn’t hear what else Mobius had to say. He skated to the middle of the rink. The Agent sighed and pressed a button. 

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy... Sylvie raised her eyebrows. Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality,... ‘He is skating to this?’

Wrong song! Next piece!’ Loki yelled.  

It took a second before Mobius had found the right button. The next song on the list was ‘Autumn,’ from Vivaldi’s four seasons. 

Sylvie also had a comment ready for this piece: ‘It’s so light.’

Mobius shook his head. ‘It starts out light, the way autumn does. The closer we get to winter, the heavier it becomes.’ 

He was right. The closer they got to the end of ‘Autumn,’ the heavier the music got. Loki’s jumps became more difficult as well. He finished with a spinning move, before getting into his final pose, low to the ice. 

Mobius clapped. ‘Well done!’

Sylvie pursed her lips. ‘Well…’

Loki skated to the side of the ring. ‘What’s the matter, Sylvie?’

‘I think you could improve.’

‘How would you know?’

‘We are one and the same, Loki.’

‘Step onto the ice and do a triple axel.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it. Can I see a copy of your routine?’ 

Loki stepped out of the rink. ‘Sure. See what you can change. Then you can come along to Brazil as my coach.’

‘I love the implication that you don’t even have a coach.’

‘I don’t.’

Mobius sighed and handed Loki back the ipod. ‘Good luck, then…’

Loki leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. ‘You’re coming too. I’ve got to pack now. See you tomorrow!’ 

|

‘What are you looking at?’ 

Sylvie scanned the gate. ‘I want to see if there are any more skaters here. I checked the site last evening…’

‘She means 3 A.M.’

‘Shut up, Mobius. You got yourself into a pretty high-end skating competition.’

‘It’s called a preliminary round to the world championships.’

‘But for someone who was unknown before!’

‘Loki… how did you even do that?’

Loki slowly shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ He took a look around the gate. ‘That guy over there. He skates, too. I do not see more of them right now.’

Sylvie intently stared at the other skater. The young man didn’t even seem to notice. 

|

‘Loki, I looked through your routine…’ Sylvie leaned over Mobius and put a sheet of paper onto Loki’s little table. 

‘Don’t wake Mobius.’

Sylvie glanced at the agent. ‘He’s probably pretending. Anyway, I added a jump here, and I took a rotation away there. I think that will add more… drama. More suspense.’

‘I am sure of it.’

‘I know you are. Now show me the kür you actually wanted to skate, instead of this.’

Loki raised his eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?’ 

‘You aren’t going to actually skate this. You already showed me and Mobius this routine twice.’ 

‘You know me too well.’

‘Go figure. Now hand it over.’ 

|

‘Did you see his kür?’ 

Sylvie nodded. ‘Yes. I tried to tell him what worked and what didn’t, but I have no idea if he actually listened to me. He might have decided on a whole new choreography, even.’

Mobius sighed. ‘Sounds like our Loki.’

Loki, who was just done with his warm-up round, skated to the middle of the rink. He winked at Mobius, who in his turn looked at the guy manning the music. They had given him the old Ipod, which seemed to be enough. 

The song that began to play was, again, Bohemian Rhapsody. Mobius sighed. ‘You can skip it…’

‘WAIT! DON’T SKIP!’ Loki yelled from the ice.

‘DON’T LISTEN TO HIM!’ Sylvie yelled even louder. 

The soundman gave Mobius a confused look. 

The agent thought for a moment. ‘...Let it play,’ he told the soundman. ‘From the top.’

When he walked back to Sylvie, she gave Mobius a look as if this was the worst betrayal she had ever faced. ‘How dare you-’

‘Just let him do it.’

‘He can’t fool around-’

‘It’s one of the things you Loki’s do best. Give it a chance, Sylvie.’

Just like the classical piece, the Bohemian Rhapsody started with light music and ended with a beat that went well with higher jumps. If you paid attention, you saw the the only changes Loki made to the routine were a few rotations and a lap around the skating rink at the end, which went well with the final twenty seconds of the Bohemian Rhapsody. 

‘Sylvie, why so quiet?’ the god asked, while he stepped out of the ring. 

‘...it was remarkably good. It looked like your Autumn routine.’

‘If the grand coach says it’s good, it’s good!’

‘But you are not doing this during the competition! That’s too risky!’

Mobius laid a hand on his shoulder before Loki could reply. ‘Well trained, Loki. What if we get something to eat, now?’ 

‘But not too much! Then he can’t jump anymore!’

‘We are gods!’

‘As if I care!’

Mobius sighed and ushered them away from the skating rink. ‘We’ll get some light salads,’ he shushed. ‘Delicious and healthy.’

|

‘I think I could do Bohemian Rhapsody. There are no rules against it.’ 

Mobius turned around. ‘I was asleep.’

‘And I wasn’t. It felt good to skate to Bohemian Rhapsody, even better than it felt to skate to Autumn. I already thought it was boring, Vivaldi’s Autumn…’

Mobius sighed and pulled Loki into a cuddle. ‘We can think about it tomorrow, or any of the other three days we’ve got before the competition after. You should rest now, otherwise you won’t have the energy to skate anymore.’ 

‘I just…’

Mobius gave him a peck on the lips. ‘Sh.’ 

After one last eyeroll, Loki obliged. 

|

‘Morning!’

‘Morning.’

‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Yes?’ Loki looked up at Mobius, as if he would have a different answer. 

Sylvie nodded. ‘Keep that up. You need lots of energy to keep skating.’

‘I already told him.’ 

‘Well, I am saying it again. Wait a second!’ Sylvie darted back into her hotel room, which was next to that of Mobius and Loki. ‘I’ve got information on the other skaters,’ she yelled from inside. With a stack of papers, she came back out. ‘We can study it during breakfast. I found out how many points each skater will probably get, based on what I saw of their routine yesterday and in the competitions before this one. Believe it or not, Loki, but you actually have a bit of a chance.’

Loki looked up at Mobius. Nope, the agent looked just as confused as he felt. 

‘...thanks, Sylvie.’ 

She looked at him with stars in her eyes. ‘I want you to do the best you can.’

‘That being said,’ mobius cut in. ‘Did you sleep at all last night?’

‘Of course! With one eye! Now let us go downstairs!’

‘You’ll need your sleep too, you know…’

‘Tsk! I can sleep when I am dead. I’ve got enemies to study now.’

|

‘Mobius!’

‘Hmpf?’

‘It’s seven A.M. Let’s go on a morning walk!’

‘Sylvie won’t like that…’

The god tutted. ‘Mobius, Mobius. Yesterday, I sabotaged dear Sylvie’s alarm. That will be good for her, she barely slept the last couple of days. Believe me when I say she’ll sleep till 2 P.M., late enough for us to be back and have lunch before she wakes up.’

Mobius opened one of his eyes. Damn it, he wouldn’t be able to sleep now anyway. Slowly, he got up. ‘A short walk, then.’

There was a park near the hotel they stayed at. A very nice park, even. Loki hooked his arm through Mobius’s. ‘Hear, it’s the birds singing.’

Mobius closed his eyes. ‘I never imagined you would like the sound of singing birds.’

‘I think most people do. On Asgard, they also sing, you know. It’s nearly universal.’

Mobius nodded. ‘Ah-ha.’

Loki took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t really want to talk about the skating competition right now, but…’

‘Say what you want. Get it out of your system.’

‘Sylvie takes this very seriously. On one hand, I appreciate that, because I would love to win. On the other hand… I sort of got into this for the hell of it.’

‘I figured as much. Now you are torn between winning the gold medal and getting your fun. Because there is no way you are going to continue to the real world championship.’

‘I mean, I am not sure yet.’

‘I am for you.’

Loki sighed. ‘You’re probably right.’

‘I am not entirely foolproof, of course.’ Mobius stopped walking and pulled Loki into a hug. ‘Anyway will be fine. It’ll be fine.’ 

‘It’ll be fine,’ Loki repeated. He took a deep breath. ‘Because most things turn out fine.’

‘Exactly.’ Mobius kissed his forehead. ‘Now let’s go find a bakery. We should eat before Sylvie decides you aren’t doing that as well as you should.’

|

‘Loki?’

‘Hm?’

Sylvie held up his ipod. ‘This still plays Bohemian Rhapsody before it plays Autumn. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to sneak Bohemian Rhapsody into your actual performance.’

‘Who knows.’

Sylvie raised her chin. ‘I am going to delete it.’

Loki jumped up and snatched the Ipod out of her hands. ‘I don’t think so! I paid for that song!’

Sylvie rolled her eyes. ‘At least put the songs in the right order!’

‘Okay, okay,’ Loki lied. ‘I’ll delete it.’

With a few easy buttons, he had deleted Vivaldi and changed the name of Bohemian Rhapsody into Autumn. Sylvie, wrapped up in her routines and scores, seemed to already have forgotten about it. Keyword seemed.

Loki slid the ipod into his jacket. He would give it to Mobius. Sylvie wouldn’t try to search him in his sleep, but there was no certainty that she would grant Loki the same rest. 

|

‘Competitions shouldn’t be in the morning,’ Sylvie complained.

Mobius patted her on the back. ‘Perhaps you’ll learn now that you, too, need sleep. This competition has been draining for all of us, not just Loki.’

Sylvie grunted, unwilling to agree. ‘Let’s just go to the rink already. He needs to stretch and we need to make sure the costume doesn’t tear at the last minute.’

The costume didn’t tear at the last minute. It looked wonderful. Black, with illuminating green streaks. ‘Like Autumn,’ as Sylvie said. 

There were already a few people at the skating rink when Mobius, Loki and Sylvie got there. Other skaters and their coaches and loved ones, all fussing about. 

Sylvie took a deep breath. ‘Loki, I hope you enjoy this, okay? You worked hard the last few days, and I can only imagine what the months before that were like.’ 

Loki almost felt guilty that he was going to skate to the Bohemian Rhapsody. Almost. ‘Thanks, Sylvie. I’ll skate my hardest. I had a great coach, after all.’ He meant it. He even used some of the tips she had given him. 

Sylvie quickly shook her head. ‘Enough of this. Come, stretch. You need to be warm.’

|

‘Loki Laufeyson: Third slot,’ the voice-over yelled. Loki nodded. He liked that he wouldn’t be the first, but that he didn’t have to wait so long that he got anxious, either.

The man that did have to go first was a popular figure, you could hear it by the reaction of the audience as he took the ice. The blond man blew a kiss at the audience and a destructive look at his opponents as he skated to the middle. His music and routine began seconds after. 

‘The swan lake? This man really is creative, is he?’ Loki scoffed. Sylvie snickered at first, but her look got more serious as she saw how the man skated. ‘Creative or not, he’s good, Loki. You’ll have to watch out.’

‘Watch out for what? That his score will be higher? I’d like to see him try.’ 

Yet, Loki had to agree the man was really good. He landed a couple of difficult jumps with no trouble. He turned back to Sylvie. ‘What’s your analysis?’

‘His choreography isn’t strong enough,’ she mumbled. ‘The jumps are strong, but he has no flair, no story. You’re better in that regard.’ Loki nodded. 

Mobius stared at the two loki’s. Up until a week ago, he had heard neither of them say a word about figure skating. Now they talked about it as if they had done it their entire lives. He shouldn’t be surprised, he knew that. But that was easier said than done.

While the second guy was doing his kür, they were too nervous to say much, except for some light encouragement. 

Right before the second guy left the ice, Loki pressed a kiss onto Mobius’ lips. ‘I am going to do it.’

‘Thought so. Go get ‘em.’ 

Loki nodded with a smile. Sylvie silently ushered him to the opening. 

As he skated onto the ice, Loki felt a familair calmness come over him. He did a small lap before taking the middle. 

‘Forgive me, Sylvie,’ he mumbled, as he waited for the music to start. 

Is this the real life? With a start he realised his plan had worked. A second too late, he began his routine, but it didn’t matter. He forgot the world around him as he did what he had done over and over again the past few months. Light as a feather, he skipped over the ice, making jump after jump and gracious move after gracious move.

‘IDIOT! BASTARD! DO YOU THINK I AM DOING THIS FOR FUN?’

Mobius laid a hand on Sylvie’s shoulder. ‘Come on, Sylvie, he is doing his best…’

‘He told me he had deleted the Bohemian Rhapsody! Well, apparently not!’

‘Didn’t you check?’

‘He guarded that ipod with his life. I wanted to check last night, but then it wasn’t in the right spot.’

She could see the gears turning in Mobius' head. ‘That might be because it was still in my pocket,’ he confessed. ‘Which… that little sneak. He really lied to us over a skating performance.’

‘Wanna punch him once he is done?’

‘I won’t hold you back, Sylvie.’

|

With a feeling of euphoria, Loki finished his last jump perfectly. He managed to do his pirouette routine without mistakes and stopped after his lap through the rink. 

The first thing he saw when he landed back onto earth was Sylvie and Mobius looking like they could destroy him on the spot. Now, he could either flee and escape their anger for a moment, or he could hear his score. 

After a moments’ hesitation, he shrugged and skated over to his friends. He could always run after he had heard how he did.

They gave him death glares all the way to the bench where he’d hear his score. Loki tried to pretend he didn’t see it. 

They sat down, Loki in the middle, Sylvie on the right and Mobius on his left. The previous anger was gone as they all waited with great anticipation. 

His score appeared. 181.25, which for now put him at the very top of the list.

He jumped up with joy. ‘You sonofabitch…’ Sylvie whispered, with a wide smile. 

Mobius kissed Loki on the cheek. ‘Let’s give way to the others now,’ he whispered after that. ‘It’s not like you’ve won yet.’ Loki nodded. He decided that for now, he didn’t have to run. 

|

The other routines went by in a blur. Sylvie sometimes made a quip about one of them, when the skaters did something exceptionally good or bad. 

Only the moments were the other skaters received their scores were clear. Time after time, they scored just below Loki, with the exception of a young skater from Italy, who got a 185. Sylvie shrugged. ‘I guess that’s deserved. That’s the guy from the airport I believe.’

Once it was clear he would stay in second place, Loki hugged both of his friends at the same time. ‘Thanks.’

‘Never pull such a stunt ever again.’

‘I can’t promise anything.’ He let go of Mobius for a moment to hug Sylvie, then let go of her so he could kiss Mobius. He took a deep breath and skated onto the ice again. 

Somewhere behind the rink, Mobius and Sylvie were standing, he knew as he stood on the block. And they were proud of him, he was sure of that. 

|

‘You’re crazy…’

‘It’s okay. Sylvie can do it too.’

Sylvie was indeed gracefully gliding over the ice. She might not have the same skill as Loki, but she could at least keep herself standing. Mobius didn’t have the illusion he could do so. 

‘Come, I’ll help you,’ Loki said, trying to copy Mobius’ soft tone. 

Mobius stuck out his hands. Loki took them and guided him onto the ice. 

‘It’s slippery.’

‘Of course it is. Relax.’ 

Relax? ‘Oh god…’ Heavily leaning on Loki, Mobius let himself be guided over the ice. He heard Sylvie whistle. ‘Don’t taunt me, please.’

‘You just need to fall once, then it’ll be okay.’

‘Come on… Ah!’

He fell down onto the ice and Loki fell with him. Or, no. ‘You pulled us down.’

‘As Sylvie said: You need to fall once, then it’ll be okay. Because you’ll be less afraid.’

‘How does that work?’

Loki leaned over and kissed him. ‘It just does.’

Mobius chuckled, even though he didn’t really want to. ‘If you’ll help me up, I can try again.’

‘Very well.’ Loki helped him back onto his skates. To his surprise, Mobius realised he really was less afraid. 

‘Thanks.’

‘The boyfriend of a silver medal skater can’t be unable to skate.’

‘Of course not.’ He took a stride forward. Then another, and another, until he could do it without help. ‘Next year, I am defeating you.’

Loki laughed. ‘I am already looking forward to it. 

A/N: Now, I am not going to pretend I know anything about figure skating...

Fast forward a year and Mobius realises he should not have said that because Loki took it to heart. 

Tagging: @lokis-right-nut @deanmekel 

[artificialqueens]

Time is an illusion, but one that means a lot (Gigi/Jackie) - Thorpe

A/N: Another fic I wrote at 4 a.m. and, actually, it might be my new favourite one. Thank you to my lovely beta, Freyja, for having the patience for my whining and teaching me about time. But a girl has to have a moral spine, so it’s 9.30 and not 9:30, and the English language can suck it.

Summary: Gigi couldn’t care less about the passage of time, but Jackie cares a lot, and they’re in love, so Gigi is trying. Very domestic. Very fluffy.

Gigi barely has any concept of time. If it wasn’t for Jackie, they’d be running late on every other occasion, and that would probably be the only consistency the world could count on when it came to them. Thankfully, there’s Jackie, and it’s the consistency they’re very pleased to lean on. There’s Jackie, with his primness and properness and professionalism, and enough patience to share all of that. He’s making Gigi more mindful of the passage of time - well, he’s trying to. And Gigi knows that actions are more efficient than words when they want to make sure Jackie feels appreciated, so they’re trying, too.

They learn that between 2 and 3 a.m. Jackie is kind and patient, but above all - he’s steady on his legs when Gigi’s own get wobbly. “Careful, baby Geeg,” he says, alongside a playful jab about needing to go to the gym more if Gigi insists on being the lightweight between the two of them. Half-past Jackie is always more than o’clock Jackie, so in the early morning hours racing with dawn he’s caring and doting and adorably standing in the doorway, trying to gauge if there are more pillows needed or less pillows needed. In Gigi’s opinion, the only thing needed is him by their side, but that gets fixed pretty fast usually. 

If a 4 a.m. Jackie is missing, that’s okay. His side of bed is still warm, the coaster on his bedside table is empty, and the duvet is crumpled in an inviting way that speaks of temporarity. Not even a deviation from the norm - just a lapse that neither of them will remember in the morning. Sometimes they put an effort into staying awake until Jackie is back, a glass half filled with water in hand and lips still slightly wet when he finds his favourite place on Gigi’s head. Most of the time Gigi fails, but they still wake up in each other’s arms, so no one’s complaining, really. But if a 5 a.m. Jackie is missing, that means trouble. It makes Gigi jerk awake and fumble with the covers. There’s cold air against their shins, which makes them grimace, and smell of smoke, which makes them frown, and there’s a single source of light coming from the tip of Jackie’s cigarette, which makes them sigh and go to embrace Jackie from behind, and stay like that until he’s ready to talk. But they still prefer that to the nights when there’s no cold air and no smoke, and what they follow are the faint sounds of crying coming from the couch.

Neither of them is a morning bird. Well, that’s a stretch, and the price of trading “I” for “we” - Jackie used to be a morning bird, but he’s been enjoying it vastly less since he started associating sleeping in with waking up to Gigi’s lazy smiles. (Gigi has never been a morning bird, never aspired to be one, even, so they’re yet to find out what a 6 a.m. Jackie is like.) A 7 a.m. version of Jackie gets shushed and coaxed into laying back down with clumsy kisses and caresses. To be honest, Gigi isn’t that sure of what the most effective strategy is, because who can be sure of anything at 7 a.m., but they’re clearly doing something right, because it works. 

An 8 a.m. Jackie is a bit more assertive. He gets too hot under the sheets and another body, and he’s already checked his calendar, which serves as a good motivation. Gigi tries to draw it out. After all, a half-past Jackie is more than an o’clock Jackie, and his favourite tactics usually contain Gigi’s blood rushing south, Jackie’s lips following with just a kiss and a half of a delay. On a good day, 9 a.m. Jackie will be communicating in moans and “yes, right the- ah, oh my god, so fucking good, Gig”. And don’t get them started on a 9.30 Jackie in the shower - on the good days, of course. The best of them. 

10 a.m. Jackie seems a few hours ahead of Gigi. Or weeks. He gets pragmatic - he has his mailbox checked and his phone in hand, on a call with his agent. He’s also left Gigi their coffee on the table, and they’re slowly sipping it, following the Canadian with their eyes, wondering when did he manage to make it and whether it was before or after he got dressed. Again, no concept of time, but they’re trying. They get breakfast ready, because Jackie may be teaching them to put on a handwatch like perfumes and Instagram filters, but they’re the one teaching him to let seconds pass under the radar and find the time for himself between the minutes passing in quiet, little steps. Make it instead of minding it. Still, those are the good days.

Usually, good days are exactly the ones they’re having, but building a life together is more complicated than maths prepares you for, and one plus one equals something weirdly shaped when it’s four arms and four legs and two hearts and an unspecified integer number of quirks and habits, and it’s never odd, but making it even is not always the easiest task. So sometimes those other days happen as well. Perhaps they would happen less if Gigi could say how much the good ones mean, but there are only so many things they can be doing simultaneously, so they pick up on the restlessness that comes with quarters to, and balancing on that delicate perimeter takes up enough attention to push holding an actual conversation out of the focus. 

The restlessness is always there, buzzing under his skin, making Jackie almost vibrate as he’s responding in hums while checking if he took everything he’s going to need before leaving. It’s quieter in the mornings, unless it’s almost 11 and Jan is late to their brunch. But mostly it’s quieter, and Gigi knows that it’ll come out as purring when he makes Jackie’s tea just like he likes it quarter to breakfast, and also that a seismograph would go crazy if it was next to Jackie when his call time is in fifteen, and the staff of the venue still don’t know how to play his music. They’re figuring out how to push the right buttons, taking notice of the way Jackie’s fingers start tapping to the rhythm of the song he’s performing that night and handing him the razor, because, apparently, it’s time to shave, feeling all smug at the surprised, but impressed look they get. But it comes with time, like everything else, and that is the tricky part, obviously. 

A 12 o’clock Jackie is a delight. Corny and witty, making smart word plays and stupid puns, and always winning their playful arguments. Gigi adores him for that, even when they pretend they don’t. He’s charming and gleeful on Cameo, and it’s clear as day why everyone loves him, even though he himself has no idea. Gigi tells him sometimes, tries to explain, and he gets flustered. It’s adorable. They’re absolutely gone for Jackie, and at 12 it feels like too much, but in a good way. If they could, they would hold him tight in their arms and cover his face in kisses and play with his hair and just keep him close and never let go. They can’t, clearly, but Jackie is usually in a good mood at noon, and so they get away with a lot. 

Afternoon Jackie is still a blur. Gigi does their best at dissecting that, but it’s a work in progress. They entertain the idea that they could take a year, two, five, or ten from now, and they’d still have plenty of time to put the pieces in order. Gigi may not have much of a concept of time, but they’ve always had a clear idea when it came to what they wanted, and it’s that they get it. There are no serious promises yet and betting on stars offers only so much certainly, but they know they want Jackie, and that’s something he is very willing to give. So they take it slow, unraveling Jackie. So far they’ve discovered that when they get jealous of Jackie’s attention at 4 p.m., he’s merciless. He teases Gigi and makes them worked up, only to leave them flushed and with lips bitten, because it would kill Jackie to be late, even though it kills Gigi in the process. But then again, they guess it’s less 4 p.m., and more Jackie in general, in his devastatingly hot ways. Alright, maybe Gigi being inhumanly gone for Jackie is less of an hour thing as well. 

But his favourite Jackie is an evening Jackie. It’s 6 p.m. or 7 p.m. or 8 p.m. and he’s on the stage, loving every second of it. The crowd eats it up - it always does - and throws banknotes at him almost as effectively as Gigi. Sometimes he’s with Chelsea, sometimes with Brita, sometimes by himself, but he’s always beaming, and it makes Gigi’s heart soar. They love performing, they do, but the more time they spend with Jackie, the more they realise nothing can match the way their head spins when Jackie gets off the stage and kisses them, hard and fast, like adrenaline and sweat. They know they’re being petty, but on the nights their gigs overlap they always pout and groan that the tips better make it up to them. Gigi makes good money in clubs, but they’re yet to find out what amount of tips makes missing out on Jackie’s show worth it. They are being petty, but Jackie laughs and understands, and sometimes he can’t make it at 9 p.m., but he gets there at half past, so he’s even more encouraging, and his eyes don’t ever leave Gigi’s body for a second. A 10 p.m. Jackie is fun, chatting with his friends, his arm firmly planted around Gigi’s waist, and if it disappears, it’s never for long. An 11 p.m. Jackie starts making aunt jokes, but he really would prefer to be on his way to their bed by now. Gigi squeezes his hand and goes around saying his goodbyes, even though Jackie assures them they don’t have to. Gigi just nods and kisses him sweetly - mind already made up - sometimes adding an exaggerated, breathy plea for Jackie to take them home. And a wink, just for a good measure. 

They get home at midnight, and a 12 a.m. Jackie is as much of a cuddlebug as Gigi is in the mornings. They love it. They rush through their skincare routine, maybe skipping a step on their way, but it’s easy to excuse when as soon as they get into the bed, they’re pulled into Jackie’s arms, their legs tangling together and goodnight kisses tasting of toothpaste. Then he’s out like a light, leaving Gigi to drift away to the sound of his deep breathing. They drag the tips of their nails over Jackie’s skin, thinking of the nights Jackie doesn’t come to see him, but insist to wait for them either way, and Gigi stumbles home at 1 in the morning to find him snoring on the couch. They chuckle and make sure to take their heels off before attempting to carry Jackie to bed, because if anything - they learn from their mistakes. They’re getting better at that, but Jackie’s never woken up either way. He’s dead to the world, so he doesn’t know that after he’s snuggled up under their duvet, Gigi lays next to him and waits until their eyes get used to the darkness, so that they can trace the strands of his hair falling onto his forehead, the delicate movements of his eyelids, his cheekbones, nose, and strong jaw. His slightly opened lips. Adorable.

A 1 a.m. Gigi is in love, but that’s definitely not an hour thing.

[alice-beaumont-ravenclaw]

Help Me Say Goodbye

A/N #1: This is the sequel to Grief (Pt.1 & Pt.2). It is a musical fic, though not in its entirety. The beginning and end are not “musical”. The song is “The Next Right Thing” from Frozen 2. When I heard that song, I thought it fit Alice perfectly, but didn’t know how to use it... until Rowan’s death. Anyway, hope you enjoy. It’s around 2000 words.

-----------------

Alice entered the school, her chest feeling tight. She looked at the students passing by her, some of them chatting as if nothing had happened. After all, most of them didn’t know Rowan. She was glad they didn’t pay any attention to her. She really just needed to be on her own. It was safer for everyone if she was on her own.

As she made her way to the staircase, she passed in front of the infirmary. The door was slightly ajar, so she glanced inside. On the bed closest to the door, a sheet was covering what seemed to be a body. Alice thought that, maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t Rowan. That Rowan was somewhere in the library, and another student had died. That this was all just a big nightmare she would wake up from. 

Alice slowly opened the door of the infirmary, looking in to make sure Madam Pomfrey was busy. She then quietly made her way to the side of the bed. Glancing around to make sure no one else was around, she took a deep breath before carefully rising part of the sheet covering her head. She let out a loud gasp as she saw Rowan’s face, taking a step back and bumping into a pile of bedpans. The noise alerted Madam Pomfrey, but before she even got up from her chair, she saw Alice running out of the infirmary.

Alice ran up the stairs, not paying attention to where she was going. She just kept going up until she reached the seventh floor. She had no idea exactly where she was on the seventh floor. Out of breath, she looked around. Seeing there was no one near, she started to wander the corridors, trying to find a place where she would be safe from prying eyes. She felt lost, both literally and figuratively. She felt like she had seen the corridor she was passing through before, but maybe her mind was playing tricks. She kept walking until she finally found, at the end of a passage, a secluded area with a window that had a view of the grounds and the Forbidden Forest. She sat on the ledge of the window, holding onto her legs as she leaned her head against her knees, looking outside. She felt a tear roll down her cheek. That was all it took for her to crumble and sob uncontrollably, all the grief and sadness she had kept bottled up inside coming out all at once. Her sobbing taking away the little energy she had left led her to slowly fall asleep, alone, on the window sill.

As she woke up, her tights stained with tears and her cheeks still humid, she looked out, noticing it was now dark outside. She had no idea what time it was, having forgotten her watch on her nightstand. Rowan always reminded her to wear it…

Thinking of Rowan and picturing her dead body brought back the tears, but her sobs were calmer this time. As she let the tears roll down her cheeks, she looked out toward the Forest, remembering what had happened.

“I’ve seen dark before, but not like this,” she started singing to herself. “This is cold, this is empty, this is numb.”

She straightened herself, leaning her head against the stone frame of the window. “The life I knew is over, the lights are out. Hello, darkness, I’m ready to succumb.”

“You followed me around, you always have,” she sang, remembering their time together, remembering all the times Rowan followed her plan. “Now you’ve gone to a place I cannot find.”

“This grief,” she continued before letting out another sob, “has a gravity, it pulls me down. But a tiny voice whispers in my mind.”

She remembered the multiple times Rowan had pushed her to do her best, even when she was sick or feeling down. Her best friend always wanted her to succeed. “You are lost, hope is gone, but you must go on.”

She turned around so that her feet would be on the ground, her back to the window. “And do the next right thing.”

She glanced back at the Forest, wondering: “Can there be a day beyond this night? I don’t know anymore what is true.”

“I can’t find my direction, I’m all alone,” she sang, looking down the dark corridor. “The only star that guided me was you…”

She looked up at the ceiling, letting out a sigh. “How to rise from the floor when it’s not you I’m rising for?”

“Just do the next right thing,” she sang as she gently pushed herself off the window’s ledge.

“Take a step,” she sang, slowly walking toward the light of another corridor, “step again. It is all that I can to do… The next right thing.”

She took a few more steps, turning into another corridor, before leaning against a wall. “I won’t look too far ahead.” She glanced toward the end of the corridor, but it felt blurry, her eyes adjusting to the soft light. She took a deep breath. “It’s too much for me to take. But break it down to this next breath, this next step… This next choice is one that I can make!”

She noticed two big doors at the end of the corridor. Doors she had never seen before, and she could see some light escaping from under them. She pushed herself off the wall and started walking more assuredly. “So I’ll walk through this night, stumbling blindly toward the light. And do the next right thing…”

She stopped a few steps away from the doors, looking outside as the first rays of sunlight were appearing. “And with the dawn, what comes then? When it’s clear that everything will never be the same again…”

She looked back at the doors, taking the few steps that separated her from the doors, and pushed them with confidence, having a feeling this is what she was meant to do.

“Then I’ll make the choice,” she sang as she looked at the giant bookcases filling the room, each shelf brimming with various magical books, “to hear that voice…”

As she looked around, she noticed something glimmer between two books. She carefully pulled it out; it was a necklace with a pendant representing a tree. She smiled as a final tear left her eyes. “And do... the next right thing.”

As she held the necklace tightly in her hand, she kept exploring this room she had never seen before. Was there another library at Hogwarts? Was this a storage room for the library? So many books were there. Books that seem to come from all over the world. As she arrived at the end of the row, she noticed a training dummy, as well as a cauldron, as if to practice everything found in these books. As she started to walk towards the dummy, she suddenly heard her name being called out.

She quickly stuffed the necklace in the pocket of her robe and ran toward the doors, closing them behind her as she left the room.

“Alice!” she heard just as Charlie Weasley was turning into the corridor.

“There you are! We were worried sick! Tulip and Badeea told us you hadn’t shown up in the dorms last night, and you weren’t in the Great Hall this morning! We were afraid you had done something stupid!” exclaimed Charlie, walking towards her.

“I told you it was safer if I stayed away from you. I attract danger as you said…” replied Alice, looking down.

“About that… I didn’t mean it. I guess I was just stressed. With Bill gone, I’m the ‘responsible’ brother now. And with the twins, it’s not easy. They create their own trouble. And I also worry about you. I want to be there for you. I felt overwhelmed when you told Penny and me about the dark wizard that was after you. I felt torn apart between my duty as a brother and my desire to be by your side, and it just blurted it out of frustration, I guess. But you are not the one attracting the danger. The Vaults are. And you fight it to protect us from it. Even if you stayed away from us, Rakepick and ‘R’ would still be looking for the final Vault and getting rid of everything and everyone that stood in their way. You can’t do this on your own, Alice. You’re an easier target for ‘R’ when you are alone than when you are with us. I won’t let you be an easy target,” he said as he walked, stopping right in front of her.

Alice looked up at him, her eyes wide. She took her step forward and wrapped her arms around his torso, her head resting on his shoulder. Charlie stood still, glancing down at her face. Her eyes were closed, and she looked peaceful. He kissed her forehead as he hugged her back. 

“Thanks,” whispered Alice as she looked up at her boyfriend’s face. 

“For what?” asked Charlie, raising an eyebrow.

“For being there for me. Even if I’m a danger magnet. And I know you didn’t mean it when you said that, but that’s how I feel sometimes.”

“We’re all here for you,” pointed out Charlie.

“Yeah, I know, but… You are probably the only person I never had to convince to follow me into danger. You don’t try to stop me, but support me instead.”

“Of course,” he said, looking at her, a gentle smile on his face. “Trying to stop you would be futile, and I don’t need to be convinced to stand by your side.”

Alice smiled back at him, bringing her face closer to his. As their lips were about to touch…

“Beaumont!” yelled Merula from the other end of the corridor. “Stop snogging Weasley, and bring your arse to the DADA classroom!” She stormed away as quickly as she had appeared.

“Ugh… I wonder what she wants. I’m really not in the mood to deal with her,” said Alice, rolling her eyes, still in Charlie’s arms.

“Want me to come with?”

“Nah, only one of us needs to suffer… But I might need those arms of yours for comfort afterwards.”

“Fine… But no more secrets. I don’t want you wandering on your own. You were nearly killed the last two times you did that.”

Alice raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t alone either time.”

“A second-year student, a witch obsessed with proving how powerful she is and a reckless wizard don’t count.”

“Please don’t tell me you want to be my personal protector like Ben?”

“Don’t worry, I know you can defend yourself. I just want you to tell all of us what you are panning, ok? We all want to help, even if certain people need some convincing…”

“Alright, deal. By the way, did you know about…” started saying Alice as she turned her head toward the room she had just left. Instead of the two doors she had seen earlier, there was only a stone wall.

“Did I know about what?” asked Charlie, looking at the wall she was looking at.

“The doors…” muttered Alice, pointing to the wall.

“What doors?”

“There were two big doors… They’re gone…”

“Maybe you dreamt it?” suggested Charlie, looking worriedly at his girlfriend.

“Maybe… Anyway, must go. Don’t want to deal with Merula’s wrath if I arrive too late,” replied Alice, leaving the warmth of Charlie’s embrace.

“Good luck,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

She walked away, waving at him. “Thanks!”

As she turned into another corridor, Charlie turned back to the wall that had puzzled her. Was Alice starting to imagine things? While Charlie was worrying about her, Alice slid her hand in her robe’s pocket, feeling the necklace she had taken from the room. 

That room was definitely not an illusion.

---------

A/N #2: Thank you for reading this fic! I know musical fics are sometime frowned upon, but I honestly don’t care. If I could draw, you can bet I would draw that fic as a comic instead, but I can’t draw to save my life. Anyway, I also hope you didn’t find the scene between Alice and Charlie to cringey as fluff without angst is very far from my comfort zone. Beside the song, this was also partly inspired by @hphm-fictober 2019 prompt “Without You”. Next fic should be part of my Celestial Ball series, so happier stuff where Rowan is still alive, and Alice and Charlie are not dating yet.

[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.

[justlightlysedated]

when i close my eyes, i want only to stay (where the farthest you are is a heartbeat away)

for @kayromantic, hope that you like it <3, I was going to try to fit all three prompts, but prompt two kind of hijacked my brain and wouldn’t leave me alone, so here you go!!

@roswellprompts

Prompt Two - Dreams - we are mentally connected - I can read your mind 

* * *

Four Times Michael Drags Alex into His Dreams and Two Times Alex Does It

* * *

.1.

Michael doesn’t mean to do it.

He’s not exactly sure how he does it either, but he thinks it might have to do with the proximity,  and the fact that his head was full of Alex and his scent that permeated through the wool sheets and soft pillow that had been stuffed into one corner of the couch the second night that the rain drove Michael to spend the night at the tool shed.

He’s in that state where you’re more asleep than awake, and he can feel Alex calling out for help, and he feels warm and safe in the place that Alex gave to him, and before he’s aware of it, he feels himself latching onto Alex’s consciousness and tugging it into his safe place, inside of his head.

The place is warm and dark and misty and all you can see are the stars shining bright and fierce and in completely different positions than they can be seen from earth, and all you can feel is the warm dry sand that covers the ground. Sometimes it's daylight, and the sun is red and dimming, but most of the time it's dark.

Alex's presence sweeps through him like a cool breeze, blowing the mist away and shines like the moon, a soft yellow-white glow that illuminates against the jagged pieces of the spaceship scattered across the sands.

Michael watches as Alex turns in a circle looking around for danger or trying to figure out where he is and how he got there.

Michael feels a little shocked at how solid he seems to be and how he seems to be affecting the landscape when Michael can't even do that because he's not a lucid dreamer.

The sands change from the pale pink they always are, to the pale brown of the New Mexican desert, and the stars swirl above them until Michael recognizes the constellations, and the moon slides into place, a crescent too big to be real, but bright enough that it illuminates everything.

"Guerin," Alex says, and he sounds a little shocked as though he hadn't been expecting Michael in his dreams, which sends a pang of disappointment spiraling through Michael that he has no idea what to do with. "What are you doing here?"

Michael looks down from the stars to where Alex is standing right beside him, looking down at him with a furrowed brow, eyes narrowed.

"I should be asking you that," Michael responds. "Pretty sure this is my dream."

Alex's brow furrows even more and then he looks around them again, as Michael notes that once Alex's concentration had flickered to him, the landscape had reverted back to the default that only exists in Michael's head.

Alex opens his mouth, probably to argue, but Michael cuts him off by standing up in one fluid motion. 

Alex takes a step back away from him, and Michael realizes that he's still tense as though he's anticipating for something or someone to hurt him, his shoulders are rigid, his fingers are clenched to fists and his mouth is pressed into a thin white line.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Michael says, and Alex lets out a startled little laugh that's tinged in disbelief.

 “You’re safe here,” Michael continues, and Alex just stops and stares at him as though he can’t believe that Michael is real, and Michael sees when he tells himself that obviously Michael isn’t real because he’s dreaming.

“I’m not really a lucid dreamer,” Michael continues before Alex can say anything. “But since we’re in my head-”

He cuts himself off, and closes his eyes concentrating. He tries to project safety and warmth, the same thing he felt when he fell asleep earlier, and he hears Alex inhale sharply.

Michael opens his eyes and sees that the sun started rising, but Alex is looking at him, eyes wide and dark.

He swallows hard looking away when he notices Michael looking back.

“If this is your dream, then why does it look like we’re on another planet?”

Michael shrugs. “Because I’m an alien.”

Alex laughs, a startled stutter of a sound, and Michael bites down on his lip so that he doesn’t insist that he’s telling the truth.

“Okay,” he says and smiles at Michael, before he realizes exactly what he said.

“How am I in your dream, exactly?”

Michael exhales roughly.

“I felt you calling out for help and pulled you in somehow?”

Alex’s brow furrows, and then it’s almost like a mask falls over his face. He moves back and inhales deeply looking away.

"You gave me a safe place to stay," Michael finds himself saying, and Alex's gaze snaps back to him. "I'm just returning the favor."

Alex swallows hard and worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You’re not going to ask?” Alex blurts out, and Michael shakes his head immediately.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Alex lets his lip go and inhales deeply, before he drops down to sit down on the sand.

He leans back on his hands and looks up at the sky. 

“I’m a lucid dreamer,” Alex says and Michael jumps as the scene around them changes sudden and disorienting. The music starts to play loud, and Michael looks around to see that they are right in the middle of a stadium, and standing on stage is a band that Michael doesn’t recognize until they hit the chorus of the song they're playing.

He gives Alex a look, who isn’t paying attention, eyes closed as he bops his head to the music.

“Panic! at the Disco?” Michael asks, raising an eyebrow when Alex looks at him.

“Don’t judge me,” Alex says and sits up, eyes on the stage. “We could still be in the middle of an alien desert.”

Michael doesn’t say anything as he sits down beside Alex.

Alex starts singing underneath his breath and Michael just stares at him and feels a warmth spread across his chest at the thought that he gave Alex a safe place in the middle of a nightmare.

.2.

The second time that it happens, Michael really didn’t mean for it to happen. 

He can’t even blame the proximity this time since he’s no where near Alex.

He also hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He’d been staring at Isobel while she slept next to Max, who was staring up at the ceiling sightlessly. The icy numbness of the acetone pulled him under, and his dreams were full of fire and the sounds of bones crunching beneath the heavy weight of a hammer, and then it changed.

Michael inhales deeply and finds himself in the desert, and out in the distance he can see the flames soaring high in the air as they engulf the car.

Michael closes his eyes tight against the image that he still sees behind his closed lids, and he feels like he can’t breathe and he wishes that there was some way that he could feel safe, when even the inside of his own head is against him.

"Is that Rosa's car?" Alex asks and Michael jumps and turns, and Alex is standing right next to him, the fire shining in his eyes as he stares at the flames with a furrowed brow.

Michael feels his anxiety and terror spike, and Alex jumps and takes one look at him before he looks back over the landscape and changes it with barely a thought.

Michael jumps again when he feels something cool and insubstantial against his feet and looks down to see that he’s standing right on the edge of a rushing river.

Alex takes a step closer to him, but stays well away from reach.

Michael looks back over at him and notes the split lip and the bruise painting the side of his face, and bites down hard against his own lip.

“Are you-?” Alex starts to ask and then shakes his head, looking away as though what he was about to say was something stupid. He takes a deep breath and looks back to Michael.

“What am I doing here?” he asks, sounding honestly confused, and Michael wishes that he had an answer for him, but he’s too busy trying not to have a panic attack.

As soon as he thinks the words, the landscape changes fast and sudden to nothing at all, but the bright, bright red of the blood staining his sweater, of the glow of Isobel’s hand over Rosa’s mouth, of the flames as they soared higher as they engulfed the car, of the panic that he’s been trying to keep at bay for the past couple of hours.

“Guerin,” Alex says voice too loud and too soft at the same time, going in and out like a bad radio signal. “Guerin! Look at me!”

Michael’s eyes snap open, and he finds Alex immediately, standing right in front of him.

Alex swallows hard, and his eyes are wide but he doesn’t look away from Michael. “What’s wrong?”

Michael opens his mouth, but all that comes out is an airless gasp. He tries to inhale, but he can’t, and his heart feels like it’s about to pop out of his chest, and the air feels like toffee, and all the red, red, red is pressing down all around him, and he can’t speak, can’t think, can’t breathe.

“Guerin,” Alex says again, and this time when Michael looks up, Alex raises his hands on either side of Michael’s face, but doesn’t touch him. “Focus on the sound of my voice. You’re going to be fine. This feeling is temporary. I know it feels like you’re going to die, but I promise you, you are not. Just keep listening to me. Everything is going to be okay.”

Michael closes his eyes and concentrates on the sound of Alex’s voice, on the easy, steady cadence and the way his breathing is steady and even, and the way his fingers were just barely brushing against Michael’s cheeks, and the sound he made when he swallows and continues speaking, and then reciting lyrics when he runs out of ways to assure Michael that everything is going to be okay.

As he matches his breaths to Alex’s steady ones and lets the rhythm of Alex’s words fog his brain, he can feel his heart rate slowing gradually, and the panic and fear leaching from his system, leaving behind a stillness that Michael never feels, even when he plays the guitar.

He blinks his eyes open slowly and sees that Alex’s eyes are closed as he keeps talking.

Michael concentrates on the words, and can’t help the stutter of laughter that comes out.

Alex stops speaking and opens his eyes, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Panic, again?” Michael questions raising an eyebrow.

Alex flushes, and his hands drop back to his sides as he glares a little. “You’re welcome,” he says, sounding a little peeved.

The smile falls from Michael’s face slowly and he exhales and nods his head. “Thanks,” he says as sincere as he can make it.

Alex bites down on his lip and his eyes dart down to Michael’s hand and back up to his face, and away across the pink sands, shimmering with pieces of the broken ship in the red sunlight.

He inhales deeply and then looks back at Michael and shakes his head. “I can’t do this.”

Michael feels a spike of terror at the words that he immediately tries to smother, but he knows that Alex had already felt it from the way his eyes fall shut.

“I can’t pretend that everything is okay, Guerin. Cause it’s not. You’re hurt, and it’s all my fault-”

“No,” Michael says immediately cutting him off, taking a step closer, but stopping when Alex’s eyes snap open.

“I don’t blame you,” Michael starts taking a step closer, but Alex shakes his head taking a matching step back.

“You should,” Alex says, hands shaking as he starts to gesticulate. “I was the one who told you that it was a safe place. I was the one who tried to kiss you first. I was the one who suggested we go there after you kissed me. I was the one who-”

“You didn’t grab that hammer,” Michael says cutting him off again, and Alex stops moving looking at him with wide eyes. “And if I hadn’t done anything, what would he have done to you?”

Alex doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to.

Michael has seen it enough times in different foster homes, and Alex who told him with a smile that sometimes people are nice for no reason and gave Michael a safe place when he needed it, didn’t deserve that. Especially not from someone who was supposed to love him.

Alex just keeps looking at him with wide eyes, and then he moves, crossing the space between them, and Michael inhales sharply as Alex’s fingers curve around his jaw and them he’s tugging him in, and Michael can’t help the way he sighs in relief into the kiss.

This was something he was positive he’d never have again, and even if Alex wasn’t actually here in his dream, he’d take it over anything else.

But Alex feels real. His hands are cold and his fingers are rough and when Michael lifts his hand to press against his back, he moves in closer, feeling solid and so unlike a dream that Michael hopes (and hopes and hopes and hopes) that this is real.

Alex pulls away from him slowly, and Michael’s mouth feels like it’s tingling, and he opens his eyes slowly to see that Alex is staring right at him.

“Michael,” he says low and soft, and Michael’s heart starts beating hard in his chest and he can’t look away from Alex’s eyes, and the light shining in them. 

“Michael,” he repeats and it sounds like a prayer. Michael’s hand presses harder against his back, and Alex presses in even closer, hands sliding into Michael’s hair as he presses their foreheads together and his eyes fall shut.

“Michael,” he says again, and Michael shudders, pressing closer. “I think I-”

Alex gasps a little, and it sounds like he’s in pain, and he pulls away from Michael slightly, and when Michael opens his eyes, he’s gone.

.3.

Michael goes to sleep sober for the first time in a really long time, and his dreams are made of shapes and colors and shadows that he can’t make sense of, and then it’s almost like he feels a tug right against his brain stem, and a sensation like he’s about to sneeze, and then he falls to his knees in the middle of the desert, pale yellow sands stretching out for miles, and a heat so intense that Michael gasps, mouth dry.

The sound of gunshots ricochet all around him, and he looks around from where it’s coming from, but all he can see is vague shadows, imprints of people, no, not people, soldiers. Soldiers running around him, shooting their weapons, and he knows that this isn’t his dream.

There is a cold sensations spreading down the base of his neck, a numbing kind of fear that he’s only ever felt once in his life, and when he turns around again, the tool shed stands right in front of him.

“Alex,” he breathes, and moves immediately. 

He doesn’t think about the fact that it’s been years, doesn’t think about how hurt he’d been when Alex hadn’t even told him that he was leaving, doesn’t think about the letters he has tucked away unread because thinking about Alex still hurt too much, doesn’t think about how this is all going to tear open the wound he’d been so desperately trying to close. 

The only thought in his head is that Alex needs him.

He opens the door to the tool shed, and it creaks just like it did then, and Michael licks his lips and then looks inside and freezes. Just like outside, there are vague shadows, moving inside, a scene that Michael would be able to see perfectly if he closes his eyes. As it is he can’t hear anything, which he’s thankful for, but it doesn’t make seeing the ghosts of the past repeating itself over and over and over.

It’s only when Alex whimpers that Michael’s gaze is snapped away from the repeating sequence, and he looks to see him pressed back against the wall on the far side of the tool shed, arms wrapped around his legs, pulling them tightly to his chest, his face pressed to his knees.

He’s wearing his uniform and there is so much blood everywhere that Michael’s heart stops beating for a second.

He walks in and ignores the ghost of Jesse Manes pulling his teenage ghost to the table and stops right in front of Alex.

“Alex,” he says, and Alex pulls into himself even more, whimpering low in his throat.

Michael drops to his knees, and reaches carefully.

His fingers barely graze the top of Alex’s head before he’s snapping his head up and looking at Michael with wide eyes.

“Guerin?” he says voice low and questioning.

Michael swallows hard and nods his head. “I’m here.”

Alex makes a low noise at the back of his throat and moves fast, wrapping himself around Michael and dropping his face into the crook of Michael’s neck, shuddering as he starts to sob.

Michael wastes no time wrapping Alex up in his arms, and pressing his face to the top of his head.

He feels how the mind numbing fear and the anxious feeling at the pit of his stomach starts to dissipate as Alex relaxes into him.

Michael wants to stay in this moment for the rest of his life, but Alex moves back too soon.

Michael opens his eyes when Alex’s hands grip against the fabric covering his shoulders.

“I didn’t think that it was going to work,” he says when he notices that Michael is watching him.

“What?” Michael asks, hands falling to his sides as Alex’s fingers tighten in the fabric of his shirt.

“I just wanted to see you one more time, the real you, not the ghost of a memory.”

“What?” Michael says again, blinking rapidly as pain starts edging the edges of his consciousness, but it feels kind of like he’s experiencing it through a filter.

Alex swallows and looks down. “I think I’m dying.”

Michael feels the words hit him like an explosion.

“What?” he asks one more time, his voice very nearly fading him, and Alex makes a noise low in the back of his throat, as he leans forward again, and presses his forehead to Michael’s.

“There was a bomb, and there was so much blood, and so much pain, I don’t know if I’m going to make it. I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

“No,” Michael says, shaking his head and swallowing thickly. “You can’t just give into it. You have to fight. You have to come back to me.”

The sob falls from Alex’s mouth and he presses his forehead harder to Michael’s. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“No,” Michael says again. “Don’t. I don’t want you to tell me anything, not when you think you’re going to die. Just, stay alive, Alex. You have to fight. And then come back and tell me.”

Alex closes his eyes, and Michael can see the tears leaking out of the corners. 

“What if I can’t?” he whispers. “What if I survive this but can’t find the way to tell you that I-”

Michael reaches for him, fingers snagging along the collar of his shirt, and he crumbles the fabric in his fists and pulls him in tightly, cutting off the words he was saying.

“Then I’ll wait until you can find the words that you want to say.”

Alex shudders against him.

Michael leans in then and Alex’s breath hitches, but before Michael can press their mouths together, Alex is gone.

He gets dropped back into himself so hard that he wakes up, startled in his Airstream, the winter cold hitting him like a punch to the throat after being in the hot desert.

Michael drags himself out of bed, and ignores the tears he can feel on his cheeks, and the way his right leg aches, and how his hands are still tingling from holding Alex, and grabs a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of acetone.

When he wakes up the next morning, he doesn’t remember dreaming with Alex.

.4.

Dreaming about something that happened is always insubstantial, like trying to recreate a memory using shadows and lights and colors and sounds.

But Michael usually doesn’t care if Alex doesn’t feel like something tangible when he dreams about him.

Tonight is different. Tonight he can still feel Alex’s hair, tickling the tips of his fingers, can still feel Alex’s mouth crushed beneath his, can still feel Alex’s hands pressing low on his back, pulling him close, even as he shuts his eyes tight like he’s in pain, can still feel the overwhelming relief and peace at having Alex within arm’s reach, of having him almost whole, but most importantly, alive.

Michael shuts his eyes tight as he presses his forehead to the ghost of Alex’s memory, and wishes that Alex would be right there with him.

Alex gasps and feels infinitely more solid in his hands, and Michael can’t help the smile that crosses his face.

He’d hoped that having Alex near would make it easier to pull him inside of his dreams, and he was right.

“Guerin,” Alex breathes out. “Wha-?” he starts and pulls away from Michael to look around Michael’s recreation of their last kiss.

Michael’s eyes open as he feels the ground shift beneath his feet and sees that they’re in the desert, pink sand glowing lightly with the huge and heavy moon slowly drifting through the sky.

He looks back at Alex who has his arms wrapped around himself and is looking up at the stars as though they have any answers.

“You already know what,” Michael says, and Alex’s gaze snaps to him.

He looks tired even though he has to be sleeping or else this wouldn’t work.

Michael feels the worry pulse through him and sees how Alex shuts his eyes, brow furrowed.

“I’m fine,” he says opening his eyes and looking at Michael. “You don’t have to keep dragging me away from my nightmares. I’ve lived with them just fine for the last ten years. I’m not some kid who needs to be protected from the big scary world, Guerin. I have never needed you to protect me.”

Michael shuts his eyes tight against the words.

“I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear, but I-”

“Stop,” Michael says and opens his eyes.

Alex is staring at him with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, and Michael notices for the first time since he appeared, that tired is not the only thing he looks. He looks trapped and like he’s two seconds away from jumping out of his skin.

Michael inhales deeply. “I didn’t bring you here because you were having a nightmare.”

Alex’s brow furrows, “Then why-”

Michael moves until he’s standing right in front of Alex, and Alex’s voice trails off as he looks at Michael with wide eyes, the same way he stared at him at the reunion, like he couldn’t believe that Michael was actually in front of him, looking at him like he wants nothing more than to touch him.

Alex inhales sharply, and his eyes drop to Michael’s mouth, and Michael doesn’t need any more invitation than that.

Especially when he moves in closer, hands reaching up to curl around the back of Alex’s neck, and Alex reaches for him, hands coming up to thread through Michael’s hair, tugging him in the last few millimeters between their mouths.

Michael kisses Alex and holds him tight, and when Alex drags him down to the pink sands, Michael goes willingly.

.5.

Michael watches the car as it was engulfed in flames, and thinks about how much things have changed over the last couple of days. So much more than the last couple of years.

Almost like the whole town was stuck in stasis until Liz Ortecho’s return to Roswell, heralded a complete tilt of the earth’s axis.

Now, Alex is gone, again, and just when Michael needs him the most.

“Is that Rosa’s car?” Alex asks, making Michael jump.

Michael looks up at him not really surprised to find that he’s managed to pull him into his dream without meaning to, and debates on whether or not to tell Alex anything, but Alex just sits down beside him on the pink sands and exhales roughly, like he’s not expecting an answer.

“Yes,” Michael says, and when Alex’s gaze snaps to him, Michael shrugs. “I was there that night.”

Alex’s gaze drops down to Michael’s hand and then he looks back over to the car as the flames rise higher into the air. “Oh,” he breathes in a way that has nothing to do with him thinking Michael is a killer.

Michael sees the way his gaze shifts as he focuses and then they’re somewhere else.

Michael inhales sharply, as he goes from sitting on sand, to sitting with his feet dangling off a pier.

The water is dark and stormy as it splashes against the pier. The smell of salt is heavy in the air, and when he turns to look at Alex, he has his eyes closed with his face tilted back breathing in the sea air.

Michael watches him for a long moment before he looks back over the dark stormy waves.

“You’re not going to ask?” he asks not looking at Alex.

He hears Alex exhale long and slow, “No. You’re not a killer, Guerin. I don’t need to know anything else.”

Michael looks over to him, to see that Alex is staring at him.

“But I am a criminal,” he says, voice mocking, and Alex looks away from him, exhaling roughly.

Michael licks his lips, and swallows hard.

“You can’t keep doing this,” Alex says, not looking at Michael. “Dragging me into your dreams, into your head, whenever you want. It’s not fair to either of us.”

“I’m not the one who walked away,” Michael says, a sour feeling spreading through him at the thought.

“I know,” Alex sighs, still not looking at Michael. “I’m trying to-”

“Don’t,” Michael says closing his eyes tight. ”I don’t want to hear your excuses or justification.”

Alex doesn’t say anything, and when Michael opens his eyes, he finds Alex watching him with his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Then why am I here?”

Michael exhales looking away, and blinking slightly, before he looks back at Alex, and sees the way that the confusion clears from his eyes.

“Because I need you to tell me that it’s going to be okay,” Michael says voice shaking. “I need you to tell me that it’s all going to work out. That it might feel like I’m dying right now, but that it’s only temporary.”

Alex shakes his head in something that looks like disbelief and he looks away from Michael, shutting his eyes tight, before he inhales deeply and clenches his jaw.

“I can’t be your bandaid, Guerin,” he says, and Michael feels the words like a kick to the chest. “You need to find someone else to keep you together.”

“Alex,” Michael says, and he knows that Alex can feel his emotions because he shuts his eyes tightly and refuses to look at him.

“Alex,” he says again, and Alex just shakes his head. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Isn’t it?” Alex says finally turning to look at him. “You want me to keep you together so you can deal with whatever is going on in your life right now, but I can’t do that Guerin. I can’t be what you need right now when I can barely function. I’m not strong enough to stop you from falling apart when I can’t even keep myself together.”

“You’re the strongest person I know,” Michael says.

Alex laughs, humorlessly and shakes his head.”I can’t even stop my father from ruining the one thing that makes me happy, how does that make me strong?”

Michael blinks his eyes rapidly to stop the tears from falling. “Alex,” he says one more time, and Alex shuts his eyes tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and then he’s gone, and Michael’s back in the desert, alone.

.6.

 Michael doesn’t mean to fall asleep.

With Isobel stuck inside the pod and there being nothing that he can really do about it, Michael feels a little helpless and a lot hopeless, so he takes control of the one thing that he can fix.

Maria’s sign.

His eyes start feeling heavy, and his hand starts cramping, and he feels an insistent tug in the back of his head.

Michael sits on the stool, and leans his head down on top of the table and closes his eyes, thinking, he’ll just rest them for a second.

The tug gets stronger, and then Michael wrinkles his nose, feeling like he needs to sneeze.

When he opens his eyes, he knows that he’s dreaming. He also knows that he’s not in his own dream because he’s never seen this room in his life.

It looks like some sort of underground bunker, with blank monitors and a small table taking up one side, covered in boxes and full of files. Michael looks down to find a piece of paper on the floor, and when he bends down to pick it up, he finds his mugshot.

“I need you to tell me the truth,” Alex says, and Michael jumps and when he goes searching, he finds him sitting right in front of the monitors, and Michael wonders how he missed him earlier.

“The truth?” Michael asks instead of asking Alex why he dragged him into his dreams when he told Michael to stop doing it weeks ago.

Alex swallows and squares his shoulders, and Michael knows that they’re inside of Alex’s head, but he can’t seem to feel anything, like Alex has a rigid hold over his emotions even in this space where he really shouldn’t.

“My father is a homophobic prick who has been using this government facility to target the people that he doesn’t like, under the guise of searching for aliens.”

Michael freezes immediately. 

“The government shut him down years ago because the project was just wasting government funds so he funneled his own money into it and kept it going this whole time, and recently he put you and Max and Isobel Evans under surveillance because he suspects that you three are aliens.”

Michael full body flinches at that and takes a step back looking around the bunker.

“I would understand why he would target you, because he hates you, just like how he hates me. But the Evanses? I’ve never met two people more normal.”

Michael swallows hard and looks back at Alex, who hasn’t taken his eyes off Michael.

“I’ve read everything he has on you, and on everyone he’s suspected over the years, and the information is inconclusive and circumstantial at best, and I would’ve just stopped this at shutting it down after I got rid of him, but then there’s this.”

He points between them at the fact that Alex just pulled Michael into his head like Michael has done to him multiple times.

“You told me that you were an alien, and I thought that it was a joke, because you know, we live in Roswell, but you weren’t joking were you?”

Michael exhales deeply and shakes his head. “No, I wasn’t.”

Alex nods his head and finally looks away, and Michael feels terror slide through him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Michael says, brow furrowing as he moves closer.

Alex’s gaze snaps to him, and he gives Michael a confused look before he remembers that they’re inside of his head.

He shakes his head. “I don’t think you’re going to hurt me.”

“Then why are you so terrified?” Michael asks.

Alex sighs, and looks away before he looks back at Michael, and his eyes are wide and full of tears. “I can’t protect you from this. I was finally able to send my father some place where he won’t ever be able to hurt either of us, but this is just the tip of the iceberg. There’s information that goes back decades, autopsy reports and files upon files of experiments done, and coded messages that prove that this isn’t the only facility, that there might be others.”

Michael feels like the world just dropped below his feet and he’s in freefall.

He looks at Alex, and Alex doesn’t look away.

“My family has been hunting yours for generations, Guerin. How am I supposed to live knowing that if it wasn’t for my great grandfather you would still have a family?”

Michael inhales deeply, and really, he can’t deal with this right now.

Too many things out of his control, but there is one thing that isn’t, one thing that he can say right now, and really, it’s the only thing that he can think to say.

“You’re not your dad Alex,” he says simply, and Alex’s eyes widen even more.

“And you’re not your grandfather and you’re not your great grandfather,” Michael says shaking his head and looking at Alex as seriously as he can. “You’re you, and I’ve been wanting to tell you the truth for a long time.”

“Why?” Alex asks, and Michael can feel the way his composure is cracking, how the terror isn’t the only thing that Alex is hiding from him, how something sweet and full of longing hides behind that.

And once again, Michael can’t think of anything else to say, but, “Because I love you.”

Michael sees how the words hit him like an explosion, how it collapses the rest of his control, and then Michael is flooded with Alex’s feelings, pain and fear and sorrow and longing and love, so much love, that Michael feels like he might drown in it.

Alex stands, and Michael takes another step closer, “Michael, I-”

Michael doesn’t let him finish.

He climbs up the steps to Alex, and tugs him close.

Alex drops his forehead to Michael, lips still parted, but he just exhales and closes his eyes, and the feeling of peace spreads through Michael.

Michael inhales deeply and opens his eyes and looks at Alex’s face, and for the first time in weeks, since the last time he held Alex close, he feels like everything is going to be okay.