#Friar's Rubbing Wood

[tsarunev]

YTP: Friar's Rubbing Wood - Fall Of Nottingham

#youtube #the greatest YTP of all time

[gemevieve]

I have watched this YTP like 8 times or so. This is one of the most ambitious youtubepoops I have seen. The sound mixing and blend of animation with live action is so well done. The guy who made this spend basically a whole year making it and it really shows. I highly recommend checking it out so much!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bw16OM2z_d0

#video #ytp #Hourofpoop #youtubepoop #Friar's Rubbing Wood #Fall of Nottingham #Robin Hood #This is a work of art #Pierce says a thing

[iczer-ryuga2]

Used audio from Ghetto Demigod's Sonic the Ghetto-hog Ep. 8 which was one of my fave abridged episodes by him so I made this video in tribute to him. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1yfTk... 

 ------------------------- 

 The story goes as follows - Roboshooter Gaiden played a prank on Akira Amachi and is running from him, knowing that he'll snitch on the other Robot pilots. Winner Robos managed to get a hold of their best bodyguard - Honey Kisaragi who has a form that can alter machines - Hurricane Honey for protection and insurance despite Gaiden being bigger. Hilarity ensues.

 -------------- 

 This was made years ago during the release of Avengers: EndGame so Roboshooter Commander/Gaiden was referencing that movie when it was out. The audio is just hilarious and to have robots calling Honey 'Vegeta' is gonna be hilarious yet lazy at the same time. 

This video is uploaded here now with the knowledge of me watching a video by HourofPoop called 'Friar's Rubbing Wood' which had excellent sound mixing and I really think I can hit that one in the future. Though this video I made does remind me a lot of this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XP5Cl... This was made in After Effects, Photoshop and yeah, this is a fan animation to say the least. Enjoy.

#new cutey honey #shin cutie honey #shin cutey honey #90s anime #srw30 #srw parody #parody video #Machine Robo #battlehackers #machine robo battlehackers #gobots #80s cartoons #1980s #go nagai #anime girl #hurricane honey #winner robos #bodyguard #ashi production #Retro #retro anime

[believingispowerfulmagic]

OTPtober Day 6 - Innocence

It all started with a smile. 

After she rescued him from the flying monkey, Roland had toddled over to her and gave her a big smile. He then thanked her and kissed her cheek before returning to his father’s side, hugging the monkey she had given him. Regina sat there in surprise that he would do that and when she met his father’s eyes, the thief gave her a small smile before turning back to his conversation with Charming and Snow. 

He and Roland had the same dimples. 

That was not fair. 

She looked away, telling herself to get a grip. Roland was a sweet kid but his father was a thief, a common criminal who lived in the woods and smelled like it. There was nothing attractive about him in any way. 

Besides, she had more important things to worry about than Robin Hood. 

Like whoever had taken over her castle and was sending the flying monkeys after them. 

“Majesty?” a little voice asked. She turned back to find Roland stood next to her again. “Can Monkey and I eat with you?” 

“Don’t you want to eat with your papa and your uncles?” she asked, surprised the little boy wanted to spend any time with the Evil Queen. No doubt he had already heard tales warning him to stay away from her. 

So why wasn’t he? 

He shook his head, climbing onto the chair next to hers and sitting there. “I want to eat with you.” 

“Oh,” she said, feeling torn. Her plan had been to take her meal to the room she had claimed in their hideout. But she didn’t want to disappoint the sweet boy looking up at her with such admiration. 

And for a moment, his dark curls transformed into lighter brown hair and his brown eyes became hazel. Little Henry gazed at her with the same expression, his smile brightening up the room. 

Gods she missed him. 

“Majesty?” Roland asked. “Are you okay?” 

She smiled, seeing Roland again. “I am, sweetheart. And I would love to share my meal with you.” 

He beamed at her, crawling onto her lap to snuggle against her. “Thank you, Majesty.” 

“Roland, it’s time for dinner,” Little John called, eyeing Regina warily. No doubt he didn’t trust her with the young boy. 

Roland shook his head. “I’m eating with Majesty.” 

“I think you should eat with us,” Little John said, motioning for him to come over. “It’ll be...” 

“Fine,” Robin interjected, clapping his friend on the shoulder before smiling at his son. “You can eat with the Queen.” 

Roland cheered and accepted a plate from Friar Tuck. After doing the same, Regina set hers aside to focus on the boy on her lap. “Do you need any help?” she asked him. 

“No,” he said. “I’m a big boy.” 

She smiled, remembering when Henry was his age and had insisted on doing everything himself because he was a big. Regina nodded. “Okay. Well, if you do need help, you can always ask me.” 

“Okay, Majesty,” he said, picking at his food and placing small bits into his mouth. She monitored him as she started to eat her own meal. 

“May I join you?” She looked up to find the Thief standing over them with his own plate, smiling softly at them. 

Regina looked at Roland. “What do you say?” 

He thought it over before nodding. “Papa can join us.” 

“Thank you,” he said, taking a seat near them and started to eat. 

As they ate, Roland told her all about his adventures living in the woods with his father and the Merry Men. Regina listened intently, nodding and making comments where appropriate. He clearly basked in her attention, happy to have a new friend. 

Once he had eaten his fill, he leaned against her chest and his eyes started to close. She raked her hands through his thick curls, just like she used to do with Henry. “Are you sleepy, sweetheart?” she asked him. 

“Just a little,” he replied. “I’m fine, though.” 

She chuckled, recognizing the same stubbornness Henry had shown as well. “Okay. You just rest.” 

He nodded and she rubbed his back. Within minutes, his breathing evened out and he grew limp on her lap. She held him close, relishing having a sleeping child in her arms again. 

The Thief stood and held out his hands. “I’ll take your plates,” he said quietly.

She managed to hand him their empty plates without jostling Roland. With her hands now free, she was able to rock him now. Regina started to hum a lullaby she used to use with Henry, her heart hurting as she thought of the son who no longer remembered her. 

Hopefully he was happy and safe wherever he and Emma had ended up. 

“You have the touch of a mother,” the Thief said, sitting down again. He smiled sadly. “It’s something my son has been lacking.” 

She glanced down at a sleeping Roland before looking back up to the Thief. For all his other faults, it was clear to her that he was a loving father who cared about his son. So Regina offered him a rare compliment. “He has you. And while I know it may not feel like it, you are enough for him.” 

The Thief gave her a soft smile, revealing those dimples again. He then stood, holding out his arms. “I’ll take him. I’m sure he’ll be more comfortable in bed.” 

Regina did not want to relinquish Roland but knew his father was correct. So she pressed a kiss to his forehead before handing him to the Thief. He nodded before walking off to put his son to bed. 

She stood, deciding it was time for her to go to bed. Regina didn’t speak to anyone else as she approached the bed that had been designated to her. Pulling the curtain to give herself privacy, she used her magic to change into pajamas. Regina climbed into the bed and pulled the blanket over her body, waiting for sleep to claim her. 

As she drifted off, Regina saw the image of two boys - one older with brown hair, one younger with dark curls - playing in her yard in Storybrooke while she sat on her porch with a blond man. Though his face wasn’t completely visible, she still knew who it was. 

The Thief. 

OTPtober

#once upon a time #outlaw queen #dimples queen #oq ff #oq au #otptober #missing year

[mylordshesacactus]

[id: A screenshot from The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood, above screenshots from v7e7 of Clover’s mission briefing “Now, we may all be in different trucks [...] If your truck is hit, pursue immediately. Everyone else will move in as fast as possible.”

The longer PDF screenshot reads ‘NOW WHEN THE SHERIFF found that neither law nor guile could overcome Robin Hood, he was much perplexed, and said to himself, "Fool that I am! Had I not told our King of Robin Hood, I would not have gotten myself into such a coil; but now I must either take him captive or have wrath visited upon my head from his most gracious Majesty. I have tried law, and I have tried guile, and I have failed in both; so I will try what may be done with might." Thus communing within himself, he called his constables together and told them what was in his mind. "Now take ye each four men, all armed in proof," said he, "and get ye gone to the forest, at different points, and lie in wait for this same Robin Hood. But if any constable finds too many men against him, let him sound a horn, and then let each band within hearing come with all speed and join the party that calls them. Thus, I think, shall we take this green-clad knave. Furthermore, to him that first meeteth with Robin Hood shall one hundred pounds of silver money be given, if he be brought to me dead or alive; and to him that meeteth with any of his band shall twoscore pounds be given, if such be brought to me dead or alive. So, be ye bold and be ye crafty."’]

nervous laughter increasing

i KNEW i had a bad feeling about Clover "Sheriff of Nottingham" Ebi and his shipment ambush plan.

It should be noted that this plan does NOT result in the capture of Robin Hood. It results in the capture of Will Stutely, Robin's usual designated lieutenant and most loyal companion--Will is such a fixture in Robin's life that in most versions he doesn't even have an origin story, he's just...always been there.

Will is captured when he slips, undercover, into a tavern to eavesdrop on the Sheriff’s men who are scouring the woods for Robin, to find out if they’ve made any breakthroughs. It’s sheer, stupid chance--in this version, a cat rubs against his leg in greeting and in doing so reveals the lincoln green under his disguise. He’s jumped by the group, and even outnumbered five to one he’s good enough with a staff that they almost don’t manage to hold him down--but of course they do, and he’s dragged off to the Sheriff. He’s set to be hanged immediately, that evening, both to set an example and explicitly as a message to Robin.

If that plotline sounds familiar, it should--in the Disney movie, the role is played by Friar Tuck.

#DON'T #TOUCH #MY GIRL #rwby spoilers

[pattie-remembers]

Tell us about the first time you made love at friar park. Please.

A little bit sexy.....

One day not long before we moved in, George and I went to walk through Friar Park, just the two of us. We had smoked a joint on the way so when we got there we were stoned and weirded out by the long drive up to the house. At first the vast emptiness had us feeling nervous, but hand in hand we ventured forth and George pushed open the main doors and we walked through into the hall with the staircase leading up. We again felt the vibration that this was where we were supposed to live. We looked at each and laughed, then we explored and imagined out loud what improvements we would make or changes that might work.

We found ourselves back at the great staircase, and as we headed upstairs the light from the stained glass windows mesmerized us and we stood in the colorful sunbeams marveling at the beauty. George was so cute and happy, his hair was long and gorgeous. He had on jeans and a blue flannel shirt. I watched his mouth as he excitedly talked about the window, gesturing with his hands about this and that. We still had that physical magic. Just standing next to George made me ache and I suddenly had to have him.

I grabbed two fistfuls of flannel shirt and pulled him close. “God, you’re sexy when you talk about colors and light and music rooms and studios and trees.”

He was instantly attentive. “So you still think I’m sexy after all this time? he asked, as he put his hands on my hips and tugged on my belt.

I stepped forward until our bodies were touching. I could feel he was hard and I reached one hand down the front of his jeans. George groaned a little before his lips found mine and we kissed frantically, our mouths collided and we knocked our front teeth on the first try but in a second he’d pushed his tongue past my lips and it was all sweet and frantic. George’s hands found my ass and the backs of my thighs and he forced me up against him. I put my hands on his shoulders for support and with a little jump, wrapped my legs around him tight.

Somehow we didn’t fall down the stairs, but George got me pinned against the ancient paneled wall. The carvings on the wood dug into my shoulder but George was kissing my neck neck and squeezing my ass with his hands. Being together was, at that moment, so much more important than making plans. Eventually George set me down and he started taking off my clothes. He frowned as his hair fell into his eyes and he was lost in concentration. I remember thinking god, he's just so beautiful.

George finally got my belt undone, then the button and zip of my corduroy slacks. He didn’t even bother with my shirt and jacket but sank to his knees and started peeling everything down with what felt like excruciating slowness. I didn’t even feel the cold, I was warm just thinking about what would happen next.

Because George always took his time when making love, I remember feeling like I might die if he didn’t hurry and touch me. His gaze never left my face as he pulled off my shoes tossing them to the side. George then helped me get untangled from the pool of my slacks and shoved them to one side. It felt like it took him as much time to do that as it did to drive here. George’s deliberate, unhurried pace left me breathless, and my thigh muscles quivered. I felt the wooden floor of Friar Park under bare feet for the first time. George did this on purpose. He always said the slower he went the hotter I got and of course he took his time and I almost couldn’t stand it.

George rubbed the back of my right thigh and draped it over his shoulder. I remember making a sound in my throat because of the way he looked up at me. I was his and he did not doubt it. He was the only man I’d been this intimate with, I was never this close with my only other boyfriend, and he knew it. Then his hands gripped my ass, pulled my hips forward, and his mouth was right there. He licked and sucked my clit, fucking me with his tongue.

"Oh, George," I moaned. My head bumped against the old paneling and as I breathed in, the many colors in the air seemed to make me feel like I was tripping. I closed my eyes because I knew his dark brown eyes were watching me. He always watched. George didn’t like me to hide. I knew he was thrilled it was day time and he could see every inch of me. He always demanded I show him everything and it would turn me on so badly and make me come so fast and hard, the pleasure so intense it almost hurt. And yes, the more I called his name the more he kept his mouth there, making me come again. Thank god there were no neighbors. No one close by to listen as I let go with wild abandon as my gorgeous husband worked his magic.

All I could do is hold myself up on shaking legs and try to breathe while George stood, already working at his belt. His hair was a mess from where my hands held his head, his face was serious with desire. I loved that I could do that to him. I could make him want me every time.

His lips were wet when he kissed me and it was sexy and urgent. If there was anything sexier than him going down on me, it was the way he tasted afterwards. He grabbed me again and lifted me, he pressed me hard against the paneling while I wrapped my legs around him again. There's a little fumbling for a second and then—oh my god—he slid in, groaning when I squeezed down around his cock. His thrusts were deep and long, as if he couldn’t get enough of me. It was all breathing and moaning and fucking, it felt so good it made my head spin.

It was all so explosive, things got a bit rough, a bit careless. A piece of paneling fell and hit my shoulder and I cried out. My body was on fire and I took George along for the ride. He came with that usual little moan from the back of his throat, and his knees buckled a little as he tried to keep us both up. I held on as tight as I could while he breathed hard against my neck. I didn’t want to let him go, but my thigh muscles were jelly and my legs slid from his hips. George’s hands sneak up under my shirt and spread across my back as he got his balance, his cock slipping out of me as we stumbled apart.

We stayed like that for a minute, with the old wall doing most of the work of holding us up. I kissed the side of his neck and inhaled the musky scent of sandalwood. I looked at him and we both grinned. I sent a trail of kisses along his jaw line. George leaned his forehead gently against mine . His eyes stared into mine. We were finally able to breathe normally

"Pattie ," he said in his soft, sweet way, as if he truly adored me as much as I wanted him to. "I love you."

Suddenly it was all too much. The house. The future ahead. I fought off tears. "I love you too, darling,” I told him as my fingers held onto his shirt, over the spot where I knew his heart was. And for a good while, there in Henley on Thames, it did belong to me.

#pattie boyd #pattie remembers #george harrison #george & pattie

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION Season 2 ♫ “Got A Lotta Livin’ To Do” [ 2.08 ]

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

YOUTH IS WASTED ON THE YOUNG – Devastating news sends the junior class reeling. When decisions are made for all the wrong reasons, everybody must face the consequences. Eric is haunted by signs he may have missed.

62 Minutes (16K words) || CONTENT WARNING: mentions of suicide; underage drinking; mild physical harassment. Take care of yourselves and read with discretion.

[ ← Contingency Plan ] [ S2 Synopsis ] [ World Uncertain → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Lovely” as performed by Billie Eilish & Khalid || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz, Riley Matthews, Maya Hart, Charlie Gardner, Zay Babineaux, and Lucas James Friar

The soft piano eases us into the episode, a long shot of the hallways of AAA less lively than usual. Whereas there is often dancing, laughter, and commotion in the opening hours of the school day, today it’s still.

ISADORA DE LA CRUZ is the first person to appear, standing alone in front of the display case outside the auditorium. There are photographs from Into the Woods up, and that’s what is holding her focus as she delivers the opening verse. As she turns and begins to walk down the hall, CHARLIE GARDNER appears within frame and joins in the vocals, growing more and more distant the further Isadora walks from him.

The whole number progresses with this disjointed sort of feeling -- the students being together, but feeling distinctly apart. The vocal focus shifts from the two of them to MAYA HART then to RILEY MATTHEWS and ZAY BABINEAUX, their voices melting seamlessly into one another due to the heaviness of the delivery.

The moment it all comes together is about halfway through in the second verse, when all of them come together along with LUCAS FRIAR. Zay behind Isadora, Charlie behind Maya, Lucas behind Riley. The six of them look straight at the camera with blank expressions as they march down the hall, seemingly in sync for this one captured moment of grief.

Oh I hope some day I’ll make it out of here...

It’s a long, continuous shot, staying with Maya as she abruptly halts and the other five disperse around her. She’s standing in front of Farkle’s locker. Frozen, transfixed by it. She lifts her hand to touch it and then decides against it, pulling her hand back. She swivels away from it, the riffs of her classmates echoing as she drifts her way back towards the auditorium.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

We’re following Maya as she walks, making her way through the hall...

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And out into the wings, stage lights down and house lights up as she passes through the stage and towards the stairs to the front and center section of seats. The rest of the junior A class is there amongst them, but they’re blurry and out of focus.

Maya settles into one of the chairs, camera rotating around to see the stage. JACK HUNTER, ERIC MATTHEWS, HARPER BURGESS, and SHAWN HUNTER are assembled, expression and demeanors somber as they address the A class. As the song comes to an end and their voices become audible, Jack’s words of understanding still feel far away.

Jack: … understand how overwhelming this might be. Which is why we are going to process it together. If there is anything you need…

The focus is back on Maya, having spun our way around to the front. Easing in on her empty expression…

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Jack and Eric continue on with their opening remarks, explaining the resources that they have available in light of what has happened with Farkle Minkus. Harper and Shawn nod along, equally as solemn. Harper seems particularly fragile, hands clasped so tightly in front of her she’s turning her knuckles white.

Additionally, as Eric explains, he’ll be available at any hour the next week if any of them need to come talk through what they are feeling about the situation. He emphasizes that the worst thing any of them can do at this time is isolate themselves, and every one of them up on stage -- and any other faculty -- are there for them.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

The halls continue to feel muted even though the day marches on. At one end of the hall, NIGEL CHEY talks softly with YINDRA AMINO and JADE BEAMON. He reaches out a hand to touch Jade’s elbow, extending comfort.

A little further down, ASHER GARCIA and DYLAN ORLANDO are having a difficult conversation. Asher isn’t looking at him as he swaps items from his bag to his locker, meticulously nitpicking at the books on the shelves as a distraction. Dylan is leaning against the row with his arms crossed, delicately broaching the conversation.

Dylan: You heard what Mister E said. The worst thing we can do right now is isolate, and that’s all he’s been doing for months.

Asher: I know.

Dylan: That has to be the reason he said any of that stuff, anyway. It’s like you said, it’s like he wants to push people away. I’m not saying it’s right, or anything, and you know I’m on your side. I’m just thinking that --

Asher: Okay, but even if he didn’t mean it, he still said it. And you know I’m not just -- I know what you mean. I do. [ fussing with his backpack ] But at what point do we say okay, this is all I can take? I’ve been pushing the line further and further back because of exactly that, because I don’t want him to be alone, because he’s my friend, but where do we draw the line? When does it finally become too much --

Asher nearly drops his backpack and gasps, catching it and cursing under his breath. He takes a moment and closes his eyes, breathing deeply. Dylan frowns, reaching out and rubbing his shoulder.

When he’s pulled it together, Asher turns to face him. His tone is soft, touching Dylan’s arm.

Asher: You know I’m not going to tell you what to do. You can make your own decisions. I just…

[ Dylan listens attentively. He shifts his hand to touch Asher’s cheek, a subtly encouraging gesture that signals it’s safe to say whatever he needs to say. ]

Asher: Right now, I can’t. I just... need space.

A reasonable request, considering how much he’s already done for Lucas. Dylan nods. Asher gives him a tight smile, sharing a quick kiss before he closes his locker and shuffles down the hall for his next class.

Dylan watches him go, releasing a sigh and leaning back against the lockers.

Jack, pre-lap: It is imperative that we act with caution.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Our junior faculty is assembled, CORY MATTHEWS joining Harper and Shawn in meeting with Eric and Jack. The principal is seated at his desk, leading the more candid discussion of how they should approach a guaranteed difficult week. Cory says what they’re all thinking.

Cory: I just can’t believe it.

The main takeaway from the meeting seems to be that whether they like it or not, the group of them are role models in this situation. How they handle this will help inform the students on how to handle it, so it’s up to them to be in control of their emotions and act as pillars for the A class to lean on. Harper questions if this means they’re just pretending it didn’t happen, obviously the one struggling the most with keeping her emotions in check.

Eric refutes this take, pointing out that their primary role is still to be a teacher. He warns against initiating conversations about it, as some students may not want to talk about it or address it yet. Those who want to seek conversation will come to them, and if anyone seems in need of counseling then Harper is encouraged to send them his way.

Harper: And what about you? Are you sure you can handle taking on all that extra… have you even gotten to take a moment for yourself?

Eric: When we’re here, our responsibility is for the students. I can handle myself on my own time.

Shawn is the one to point out the other obvious threat -- overreactions. He doesn’t suspect they’ll have any copycats or anything, but then, they didn’t realize it soon enough with Farkle either. The fact of the matter is, there is a lot boiling under the surface of these kids right now because of this, and they’re guaranteed to release that pent up energy eventually. They should be even more vigilant than usual.

Jack seconds the notion. Speaking from experience, some teenagers are very good at concealing what they’re feeling...

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

One such student is Isadora, who is having lunch with Maya. They’re hidden away in the girls dressing room, away from the noise and constant chatter of the cafeteria.

For all intents and purposes, she seems to be handling the news better than others. She’s at least being open and talkative about her attempts to process it, gently nudging Maya into conversation about it.

Isadora: Something similar happened at my last foster home... I won’t go into details, but… it’s like... they kept telling us the same thing over and over again. About feelings, and guilt and all that sort of shit, but none of it really helped. I don’t know what… [ a beat ] This isn’t very helpful either, is it?

Maya isn’t taking to it, that’s for sure. She’s silent, lunch untouched on the countertop next to her. She’s got her feet up on the counter and is hugging her knees, leaning her head against the cool mirror. Not talking, not eating, just… nothing.

Isadora gets the hint, settling into quiet as well. But she assures her that if she does want to talk, she’s there for her.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

Riley has gone to Eric for lunch, bright with an idea in the chair across from him. It’s a muted sort of enthusiasm, but her eyes are sparkling as she speaks.

Riley: I wanted to run it by you first, though, because I didn’t want to accidentally do something that might make things worse or have some unintentional psychological consequence. I just thought that… it might be nice. For all of us, but also for him. To honor him. [ a beat ] Do you think it would be okay?

Eric: I don’t see any obvious “psychological consequences” in that idea, no. [ smiling ] I think that’s a lovely idea, Riley.

Riley manages a smile. She quickly finishes her food and gathers her things, claiming she wants to get started on organizing it. Eric rises with her, requesting she hold on a second.

He comes around the desk, gently asking if she’s handling everything okay. In light of everything that has happened… he just wants to know. And if there’s anything he can do, can she promise that she will please, please tell him before it gets too deep to come back from.

Riley pauses. Then she pulls her uncle into a hug, the two of them sharing a tight embrace. Every touch means a little bit more right now.

Riley: Promise.

She pulls back first, giving him a smile and heading out. Eric watches her go, a little choked up. He clears his throat, trying to shift back into work mode.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Zay and Charlie are in their usual studio, but they aren’t dancing. The mood is deflated, the two of them sprawled on the floor in what seems to be the start of stretches that never went anywhere. Instead they’re talking, Zay laying on his side and propped up on his elbow. Charlie is leaning back against the mirrors, legs stretched out and feet resting on Zay’s hip.

And even their conversation isn’t its usual rapport. It’s soft and listless, both of them trying to process something that feels impossible to grasp. Zay carries most of it to fill the silence, working through his disbelief and attempting to reconcile that with the collective perspective they all had of Farkle.

Zay: I don’t know. I guess someone that… when they have that sort of personality, you never really think --

Charlie: Could’ve been me.

Charlie says it without thinking, staring at the ballet bars across from them. He only snaps out of his daze when Zay nudges his knee, concern in his features. He repeats the question of what the hell Charlie meant, obviously worried about the statement. Charlie quickly covers it, claiming he just meant that it really could’ve been any of them. Personality and background aside.

Zay doesn’t seem all that placated, so Charlie elaborates. He explains how alone he felt at the end of last year, how easy it is to stumble into those dark places and not really know how to dig yourself out. He’s lucky that he had a support system in place, as well as someone there for him in a way that no one else could be.

He tilts his head to lock eyes with Zay, sincerity shining through his tired gaze.

Charlie: I hope you know how much you mean to me.

The sentiment kind of speaks for itself. Zay softens, placing his hand on Charlie’s leg and gently stroking his knee.

Zay: Ditto.

Charlie waits a moment before placing his hand on top of his. Off their joined hands --

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley and Cory are having dinner together, just the two of them as it may very well be from now on. The two of them skirt around the elephant in the room for a bit until Riley mentions her idea to honor Farkle, stating that that’s what has taken up a majority of her attention.

Tentatively, Riley asks Cory how he’s feeling about the whole thing. Although they don’t give him much credit, he was one of his teachers. He must be thinking about it. So she opens the floor for him to actually get to talk about it instead of putting on a brave face like he does at school. Cory contemplates it.

Cory: Weirdly enough, I keep thinking about first semester.

Riley: Yeah?

Cory: Yeah. Doesn’t have anything to do with the last couple of years, but that’s what I keep coming back to. First week of school isn’t easy for a teacher. Not just because we’re also coming off the freedom of summer, but because there’s a whole new crop of kids to learn about. Not to mention all the others you’re backlogging from other years, but that’s beside the point. At least at Triple A we’re only dealing with about fifty a year, but still a lot to take in.

Riley: I can imagine.

Cory: But Farkle wasn’t like that. It was partially the name -- hard to forget a name like that, so I figured I would match the face pretty easily. But the real reason was because even from the first week, he was always two steps ahead of me. Didn’t matter if it was history or english -- and I do not envy Mr. Norton for having to battle with him in science and math. First week of classes, I’m doing an introduction on Shakespeare, and his hand just shoots up about ten minutes in and he basically takes over the lecture. [ clearing his throat ] I was irritated at the time, a little bit, because it kind of felt like he was stealing my thunder. But came to appreciate it after a while. It was nice to have a student who valued his academic intelligence just as much as his performing ability. [ weakly ] Think maybe I should’ve told him that, at some point.

Riley smiles bittersweetly, reaching across the table to touch his hand. Cory lets out an embarrassed laugh, swiping at his eyes. He holds her hand more securely, locking eyes with her.

Cory: I’m so glad that -- I’m so glad you’re still here with me, Riley. I really, really am.

The statement is loaded, and carries plenty of meaning. Glad she’s there with him and not on the same path as Farkle; glad she’s there with him when everyone else seems to have gone away -- his wife, his son. He’s grateful that, in spite of everything else, she’s still there at his side.

Riley squeezes his hand in return, nonverbally returning the sentiment.

INT. FOSTER HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT

Isadora is helping BEATRIX TORRES prepare lunches for the younger siblings. Beatrix asks her how she’s grappling with what happened to that classmate of hers, and she brushes it off as if she’s not all that bothered. Sad, of course, but it is what it is. Beatrix doesn’t seem convinced, but before she can question further, STEPHEN VAN HERSCHING requests that Isadora come join them in the dining room.

INT. FOSTER HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT

Isadora saunters into the seat across from him and KAREN VAN HERSCHING at the end of the dining table, expecting this to be another meeting to discuss her “behavior” as of late. They hadn’t yet confronted her about the outburst of last week, so she’s resigned as they tentatively begin the conversation.

Only it takes a turn she is not at all anticipating.

Karen: With all of this in mind, we feel it might be time for you to be relocated.

Isadora, stunned: … what?

Stephen, delicately: Clearly, we’re simply not clicking the way we’re supposed anymore. You must have noticed you’d been in respite care more often than usual these past few months, and we’ve been butting heads more than living harmoniously.

Karen: It’s not a comfortable environment for any party, and your siblings are starting to recognize it too. Perhaps that’s a sign that this just… isn’t a good fit.

Isadora chokes back her emotions, instead arguing as bluntly as she can manage. She points out that this has nothing to do with the foster siblings and everything to do with them -- they’re giving up on her because she’s not “normal” the way they’d like her to be. They’ve never known how to handle her, and now they’re giving up because they’re tired of pretending to put in an effort to understand her.

Stephen: Now I wouldn’t say --

Isadora: Of course you wouldn’t, because that would go against your perfect charitable narrative. Take in kids and give them homes, sure, as long as doing so makes you feel good about yourself and offers no potential challenges that you might have to actually lift a finger to work through.

Karen: See, this is exactly what we’re talking about. If you were intent on making this family dynamic work --

Isadora: If you were intent on making this work, you’d act like actual parents and try to understand the children you host rather than shaping them into your good samaritan trophies. When you’re an actual parent, you don’t just toss your kid out when they don’t suit you anymore!

Karen shuts the discussion down, stating that this is how things are going to be. Isadora reins in her frustration and puts on a stony expression. Karen continues to explain how long she’ll have to pack her things, what they’re doing to start arranging for her relocation, but sound goes fuzzy and sort of peters out.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “No Roots” as performed by Alice Merton || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz

The bass line starts in as the Van Herschings continue to mutedly talk at Isadora, finally dismissing her. As she marches from the table and starts to move through the home she launches into the opening verse, keeping her emotions tempered for as long as it takes her to escape to the upstairs.

INT. FOSTER HOME - ISADORA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

The door slams as she gets to the chorus, volume growing in pitch as she starts to meltdown over the ordeal. She’s being dropped again, removed and shoved off to the next person. Nothing ever lasts, no one ever stays. On top of everything else…

Enraged, Isadora rips a poster down off the wall. That destructive action seems to expand into an all-consuming energy, Isadora basically tearing her bedroom to shreds as she progresses through the rest of the number. It’s a dizzying display, leaving her surrounded by debris by the time the rendition comes to an end.

She stands amidst the ruins of what her temporary home used to be, breathing heavy and clearly exhausted. Then she leans back against the door and slides into sitting, tucking her head into her knees.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

The silence of Eric’s office is a stark contrast to the anger of moments earlier, the only sound being the active tick of the wall clock. Maya is seated in the chair opposite him, Eric patiently attempting to get her to speak about how she’s dealing with this. Anything at all.

She’s not biting. It’s truly jarring to see Maya Hart so quiet, usually so animated and the natural center of attention. She’s just… void, having nothing to say because she has nothing to give.

Eric: I just want you to understand that there’s no wrong way to process this. Whatever you might be feeling -- sadness, guilt, anger -- all of that is valid. You have the right to feel it, whatever it might be. You don’t have to process it alone.

For now, it seems like she’s content to do so. She continues her silence, avoiding his gaze as she stares blankly at the floor. Eric frowns, obviously wishing there was more he could do.

Anne Marie, pre-lap: Please let me know if there’s anything you need.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

ANNE MARIE WINTHROP is visiting Jack, having brought him lunch from one of his favorite spots. She’s clearly there to offer him comfort, well aware of how difficult this week is going to be for him. Whatever she can do to help, she wants to be able to do it.

Jack claims he’ll be fine, right now all he can do is focus on work and try to keep the tides level. She exchanges a brisk kiss with him, heading out just as Lucas appears in the doorway for a meeting.

The two of them nearly bump into one another, looking at one another in confusion. Anne Marie is certainly no administrator Lucas recognizes, and Lucas wanders the main office too casually to be just some random student swinging by for a visit. Yet, they have absolutely no sense of who the other person is.

Jack seems to sense their trepidation, jumping to introduce them. Anne Marie offers a hand to shake as he does so, which Lucas looks at with a mixture of reluctance and amusement. Is she for real?

Jack: Lucas is one of the technicians in the junior class.

Anne Marie: Oh. Sorry if I’m being rude, I just -- Jack’s never mentioned you, is all.

Lucas, flatly: Yeah, well, there’s not much to say about me. [ shaking her hand ] I’m sort of like the gum under his shoe he just can’t scrape off.

Jack: That’s not true.

Lucas: It’s okay though. He’ll get rid of me some day, I’m sure. A little more scraping and scrubbing, and all grime comes off eventually.

Jack cuts him off, stating he’s said quite enough. An interesting first impression, that’s for sure. Anne Marie delicately removes her hand from his, raising her eyebrows at Jack and assuring him she’ll see him after work. Lucas waits until she’s gone to speak, sliding into his usual seat.

Lucas: You never mentioned you had a girlfriend.

Jack: That’s not exactly relevant information for you to know.

Lucas: We talk about everything else. You know everything about me. [ bluntly ] Shitty parents, booth hopping, failed not-relationships…

Jack waves him off, as that’s definitely not what he wanted to discuss. He cuts to the main reason he requested Lucas come by, checking in on how he’s handling the news about Farkle.

In an instant, Lucas clams up. He says he doesn’t see why he’s checking on him when there’s plenty of people way more distraught than he is. He and Farkle weren’t close. They weren’t even acquaintances. The only thing they had in common, in fact, was how hated they were by everyone else.

But that isn’t the point. When things like this happen, Jack states, people cope with it regardless of how immediately attached to the person they were. He wanted to talk with him and make sure he was okay, because he knows for a fact he won’t be going to chat with Eric. His behavior last week was indicative of that much. Lucas sheepishly claims he’s fine, and the only reason he acted that way was because he doesn’t need to have everyone in his business.

But it’s not convincing to Jack, and he continues to push out of concern until Lucas slightly cracks. He lashes out about yeah, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Not because he gave a shit about Farkle, but sort of because of exactly that reason.

Lucas: So you want to know what I’m feeling? I’m feeling like absolute shit. But not for the reason everyone else is, the reason I should be, because I’m heartbroken or sad or suffered some great personal tragedy. And that’s all part of it -- I feel like shit because I am shit. I’m shit because this horrible thing happened, and all I can focus on is me. Because we were both trash, but if anyone deserved it… [ huffing ] Because for three years, I treated Farkle like shit, and I can’t stop doing it to everyone else, and now he --

Lucas can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He swallows whatever he was going to say, slouching back in his seat and pressing his knuckles to his chin. Jack attempts to process everything he just said, wondering where to even begin.

Lucas: Is that what you wanted me to say? Is that what you wanted to hear?

He gets up without waiting for a response, making a quick escape. Jack sits there, dumbstruck, not at all sure how to unpack all of that. Wanting to help, but not having any idea how -- not even sure he can. Perhaps he should’ve heeded Eric’s advice about not pushing conversations…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Riley is at Farkle’s locker, having been opened by Harley to be cleaned out and returned. She’s gathering his things in a bag, also getting a feel for what she’s working with in whatever her grand idea is.

She sighs, shifting her focus to the inside door. There are still those lingering photos from last year, striking a nerve in her she wasn’t expecting. She gently touches the Les Mis cast photo, then shifts her gaze to one he has of him and Maya. It was taken on their hooky day, and somehow captures just how greatly Farkle cherished their friendship before he blew it all up.

Riley’s eyes are glossy, but she’s pulled from the moment by the conversation of a couple seniors a few lockers down. They’re discussing how heavy the week has been because of the junior class, neglecting to realize that the locker of who they’re chatting about is only a few feet away.

They both agree they’re eager for the weekend to unwind for a hot minute, highlighting the underground NYU party that they both got the deets for. Yeah, they’re still in high school, but this is one of those ones where they let seniors in for a few bucks so long as they dress the part and don’t go too overboard.

Interesting information to overhear. Riley absorbs the details as she hides behind Farkle’s locker door, stopping herself just in time from subconsciously bending his photo of Maya.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

The bell rings, pulling the junior class back together for lecture. They all saunter into the black box, the mood somber and all eyes avoiding the empty seats in the room. One less occupied than it should be. A couple of students are visibly shaken, like NICK YOGI who is far from his usual level of energetic, and HALEY FISHER, who is wiping tears on her sleeve a few rows back.

Harper steps up to the board and attempts to proceed on like business as usual, but she keeps losing her train of thought. She gets caught on Haley crying in the back of the room, wanting to say something, but remembering what Jack and Eric said about operating with caution.

Charlie: Miss Burgess? [ after she looks at him ] Are you alright?

No. No, Charlie, she’s not. As if the question is the trigger, Harper starts to cry. She apologizes and tries to pull it together, but then she’s sobbing harder. Totally eclipsed by the reality of what has happened and unable to run away from it any longer.

The A class stares at her, uncertain what to do or how to respond. The room feels frozen in the agony of it, until Shawn steps up and joins Harper at the front of the classroom. He leans in close, muttering to her with a semblance of privacy.

Shawn: Go. I’ve got them, just go.

Harper blinks at him, stunned, but takes his directive. She rushes out of the room, still trying to pull herself together. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Shawn awkwardly clears his throat and then attempts to take over the lesson to the best of his ability.

INT. AAA - DRESSING ROOM HALL - DAY

Catching up with the junior A class, they’re scattered about the auditorium during breakout sessions. But no one is actually rehearsing anything, mostly just coming together to comfort one another. DARBY WINTERS and SARAH CARLSON are in the dressing room hall, Sarah hugging Darby as she cries.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

In the wings, Zay, Yindra, and Nigel are seated on some spare acting blocks. Charlie and Clarissa are in the backstage area, comforting a distraught Haley who cannot seem to stop crying. In the back center section of the house, the techies are huddled together. NATE MARTINEZ has his arm around DAVE WILLIAMS, who is flushed and rubbing his eyes. JEFF MONROE is massaging Jade’s shoulders while she continues to costume in spite of how she’s actively crying, preferring to focus on something productive rather than wallow.

Dylan breaks from the techie huddle, gently scratching Asher’s back as he passes him to let him know he’s going. He makes his way back down through the house and up onto the stage, heading to the other side of the wings in pursuit of something or someone specific.

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

He finds who he’s looking for soon enough. Isadora is no longer so in control of her emotions, aggressively sawing at a piece of wood with safety goggles on. Dylan claims he’s happy he found her, as he wanted to see how she was doing. He knows she’s been kind of dealing with a lot of shit lately, let alone on top of this.

Isadora, unimpressed: Oh, do you now?

Isadora pulls off her goggles and steps away from the wood, avoiding looking at him. He persists in expressing his concern anyway, stating that they’re friends and it’s important for people not to feel alone right now.

Unintentionally, this comment is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Isadora snaps, saying it’s a shock for him to call them that when they’ve hardly interacted much in the last few months. Where was he when the entire techie crew decided to cold shoulder her? Or after the blow up in class when her mom visited -- he sure didn’t come running after her then. He didn’t try to get Lucas to lighten up on her, none of them thought to invite her to their new techie holiday plans.

Then it just spirals from there, Isadora no longer able to keep the lid on her emotions about anything. What’s going on with the Van Herschings, how her friendship with Lucas has deteriorated, the fact that she can’t seem to get the balance between two worlds right. How she knew something was up with Farkle, and she tried to reach out, but she didn’t do it right because she never does anything right. She could’ve done more, and yet she fucked up that too.

Dylan listens without argument to all of it, an unfair but willing recipient of all her anger. He lets her snarl at him and throw blame around and completely meltdown until she runs out of steam, collapsing down against the chain link that separates the costuming supplies from the set building supplies. She descends into tears, hiding in her arms and at rock bottom.

For a beat, uncertainty. Then, without a word, Dylan walks over and joins her on the floor under the shadow of the costume loft. He doesn’t touch her, or offer an uplifting word. He simply sits with her, being another presence in the room. There with her to sort through all that turmoil.

Tangible proof that she’s not as alone as she feels.

INT. ANGELA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

ANGELA MOORE returns home, greeting Shawn who is working on the couch. She tiredly explains that she went to pay a visit to the Minkus family.

Shawn: How are they?

Angela: About how you’d expect.

She settles onto the couch with him, allowing him to drape an arm around her shoulders. She cuddles close, shaking her head and claiming that she can’t imagine what they’re going through right now. She only knows what she’s struggling to grapple with, and that’s already difficult enough. Shawn nods along, kissing her temple.

Angela: I just keep thinking… if I hadn’t gone away. If I hadn’t taken the job, you know, and I was still his teacher…

Shawn argues against the train of thought before it even starts. There’s no sense in trying to figure out if one or two tiny decisions were deciding factors in something like this -- and they rarely ever are anyway. She was his favorite teacher, after all, if anything she already did more good for him than anyone else.

Angela sighs, trying to accept that as truth. She asks how everyone else at AAA is doing, and Shawn admits it’s tough. He mentions what happened with Harper, speaking sympathetically about his co-teacher for perhaps the first time. As he’s doing so, the reality of their warped dynamic seems to hit him full force.

Shawn: … fuck. I’ve got to fix this, Ange.

Her expression says it all. Maybe so. He gives her another long kiss on the forehead before climbing to his feet.

INT. FOSTER HOME - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Isadora is meeting with her SOCIAL WORKER, the latter explaining what this process will be like as she is relocated. She’s hardly listening though, as this is far from the first time she’s heard the spiel.

When the caretaker explains that she will be squatting at the Van Herschings until she’s assigned a new home, that seems to strike something in Isadora. From the way her eyes are burning, it’s clear that doesn’t resonate with her. No way is she going to just hang around in a place where it’s been made clear she’s no longer welcome.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley is pacing the living area, on the phone with TOPANGA LAWRENCE. She’s explaining the laborious process of moving upstate, only switching topics to what is going on with Riley far too long into the conversation.

Riley, flatly: Well, I don’t know if you heard, but one of my classmates overdosed. So.

Although her advice is well-meant, Topanga’s immediate response is to start problem-solving, which is not what Riley wants to hear. She can’t even get a word in about her project for Farkle, Topanga dominating the conversation with thoughts on how to cope and questioning the environment of the school that would push a student to that.

Topanga: You know, there really are some excellent schools here upstate. If you’re ever feeling as though things at the art school are just too hectic…

A nice suggestion, but exactly the opposite of what Riley needs right then. She’s sick of jumping from place to place only for it to constantly fall apart -- what she wants is for the home she’s built at AAA to become hospitable again. All in all, the conversation leaves Riley feeling more claustrophobic, directionless, endlessly doing the wrong thing regardless of how much right she’s trying to do.

She hangs up, collapsing into the bay window and looking out towards the twinkling lights of the city. Still bustling with activity in spite of how the world seems to have frozen around them.

She could sure afford to unwind for a hot minute…

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT

Maya’s phone is ringing, Katy lighting up the screen once again. Maya reaches out and hits ignore, stuffing her phone in her pocket.

Her expression is still hard to read as she gathers her duffle bag onto her shoulder. She’s dressed in dark clothing and obviously on a mission, no longer doing nothing but gearing up to certainly do something.

She crawls out onto the fire escape with her duffle, disappearing into the night.

EXT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - LUCAS’S FIRE ESCAPE -  NIGHT

Lucas is seated out on his fire escape, also looking out into the night. He’s clenching his jaw, picking at the scabs on his hands again, seeming restless and a far cry from coping well over someone he wasn’t all that close to.

Swiftly, he pulls out his phone and dials a number. He waits impatiently until they pick up, eyes shining with mischief.

Lucas: You busy? [ a beat ] I gotta do something.

INT. GARDNER HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT

The Gardner family is assembled for dinner, ELEANOR GARDNER leading them in prayer before they settle in for the meal. This evening is a bit out of the ordinary, however, as Eleanor includes a plea of forgiveness for Farkle’s mortal soul and to have mercy on him. Charlie opens his eyes in shock, blinking at his mother as she wraps it up with prayers towards the Minkus family and a curt amen.

Charlie is the only one not to repeat the word. Eleanor glances at him, surprised to see the disturbed expression on his face. She questions what’s going on, and Charlie asks what the heck she meant by including Farkle and asking for his “forgiveness.”

Eleanor treads cautiously, understanding that Charlie is likely overwhelmed by what’s happened and thusly pardons his attitude. She reminds him that suicide is a mortal sin, one of the gravest a human can commit as it goes against God’s power over human life. She’s merely hoping the Lord will take mercy on him when the time comes for his judgment.

Charlie: Well, don’t you think that’s a bit cold?

Eleanor: I think it’s a bit cold to decide that your wants and desires are greater than the will of the Lord.

Charlie: Maybe, but… don’t you think he deserves a little more sympathy? You don’t know what was going on with him, or even who he was. The Bible even says that mental health can absolve responsibility of it as a mortal sin --

Eleanor: Which is up for Him to decide, not me, and certainly not you.

Charlie wants to say more, but he finds he’s out of words. He just feels sick, staring at his mom as if he doesn’t even recognize her. Rosie looks back and forth between them, uncertain. Ambrose starts to say something to assuage the tension, but Charlie beats him to it. He pushes away from the table.

Charlie, disgusted: I need to be excused.

Eleanor: Perhaps that’s a good idea.

He marches out of the room without looking back. Eleanor and Ambrose watch him go, both appearing concerned. Rosie and Daisy keep their heads down, pushing around their food but not eating it.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Charlie escapes into his room, slamming his door behind him. He paces restlessly before flopping down on his bed, grabbing his pillow and screaming into it to muffle the sound.

When he puts it down, he pushes himself back into a sitting position. He runs his hands through his hair, letting out an exhausted exhale. His gaze drifts out his balcony and towards the lights of the city, Charlie getting lost in the view for a moment.

Slowly, his expressions hardens to a glare.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “A Lot of Livin’ To Do” as performed by Bye Bye Birdie Original Broadway Cast || Performed by AAA Juniors

Charlie kicks off the first verse, on edge and bristling with energy. He pushes himself off his bed and into a pace, then seems to be struck with an idea. He quickly packs a bag and climbs out onto his balcony.

EXT. GARDNER HOME - NIGHT

Charlie lands outside his balcony and looks up at it as he backs onto the sidewalk, finishing off his verse as he sprints towards his car.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT

Riley takes up the brunt of the next verse, singing about “men of 19 or 20, who are suave and reckless and true.” She’s dressed up and looking glamorous in bold makeup, a leather jacket she took from Maya’s closet, and semi form-fitting clothes, but she also… doesn’t really look like herself. She looks as though she’s trying to be something she’s not -- which is precisely what she’s doing.

She musters her confidence in the mirror before grabbing her purse and clambering out of the bay window.

INT. FOSTER HOME - NIGHT

Isadora is following the same routine. She has stuffed everything she cares about into a backpack and an overnight bag, clambering down the stairs and marching into the night without anyone noticing. Not intending to ever come back.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Kicking off a pattern for the episode, the rest of the number is split between events happening in real time, and a fictionalized performance on the AAA stage. In this case, that performance belongs to the A class (sans everyone featured out and about), Nigel taking on the vocal heft of the performance.

The strangest thing about their otherwise enjoyable rendition is how jarring it is to see Asher without Dylan. Asher is amidst his classmates, dancing with Jade and the other techies in the grounded stage performance, but his boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

That’s because Dylan, on the other hand, has met up with Lucas and they’re jogging the back streets of a wealthier district in the city. They’re alight with chaotic energy, as Lucas is kicking up his thievery to even higher levels tonight. Dylan tosses him a tool as they come around one of the fancy, shiny sports cars sitting parked on the street, Lucas starting the process of breaking into the vehicle.

He succeeds, pulling open the door and disabling the security mechanism swifter than it can react. He and Dylan exchange grins, Lucas climbing behind the wheel.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Maya has taken up residency in an alleyway, a busy street just overhead. She’s hard at work, opening her duffle to reveal an assortment of spray paint. Her expression is removed and determined, setting to work as she starts graffiting right over the camera.

EXT. BABINEAUX HOME - NIGHT

Zay’s car is the only one in the driveway as Charlie pulls up on the curb, abruptly killing the engine. He jogs up to the door, knocking urgently. He’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, unable to stay still.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ENTRYWAY - NIGHT

Zay descends from upstairs and pulls open the door in confusion, finding Charlie on the doorstep. Not even a second passes before Charlie steps inside and pulls Zay into a kiss, showing zero hesitation in initiating.

Something about this kiss is different, too. Insistent. Impatient. Zay is startled for a moment until he catches up and kisses him back, shutting the front door.

INT/EXT. NEW YORK STREETS / STOLEN CAR - NIGHT

Lucas and Dylan seem to be having the time of their lives, speeding down the night streets in their joy ride vehicle. Dylan shouts into the night and nudges Lucas on the arm, the latter grinning and picking up speed.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Isadora is wandering the streets, obviously not sure where the hell she’s going to go. She’s so distracted she almost walks right into the streets, only getting startled out of it when a police siren snaps her out of it.

She hops back onto the sidewalk as the cruiser breezes past, lights blinking and sirens blaring.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Things have grown serious for Zay and Charlie as well. They’re deep into kissing, but Charlie still seems to be operating with a more frantic tenor than normal. There’s a moment where Zay pulls back and starts to question if this is okay but Charlie steers right past it, pulling him back into it.

Kisses deepen… shirts come off… Zay fumbles back onto the mattress and Charlie follows...

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - NIGHT

Maya is finishing up her project, startled out of her focus by the distant sound of sirens. She scrambles to gather her things and takes off into the darkness.

EXT. COLLEGE PARTY - NIGHT

Riley approaches the entrance to the underground college party, being held at what seems like an old warehouse of some kind. She makes tentative eye contact with the older guy monitoring the doors, but he doesn’t pay her any more attention than the other college girls slipping inside.

She smiles to herself, descending down the steps and into the party scene.

INT/EXT. NEW YORK STREETS / STOLEN CAR - NIGHT

The fun comes to an end about the same time as the song, the A class underscoring the blare of sirens as they catch up to Lucas and Dylan. The world around them reflects blue and red as Lucas stares at the rear view mirror, expression shifting from thrilled to alarmed.

Lucas, fiercely: Shit.

They pull over. Dylan glances over his shoulder at the lights and then back to Lucas, panicked.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - NIGHT

Eric is still at school, working overtime and cleaning up his office as an excuse to avoid everything else. His fragile bubble pops though as he finishes clearing his desk, stumbling upon some old notes he made to himself about Farkle and his behavior.

He stares at it, hands shaking. His expression twitches, betraying his strong facade.

INT. HARPER’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Harper is pacing her apartment, on the phone with STELLA CASTILLO. She assures her that she doesn’t need to come home from her touring gig early, the situation is tough but she will handle it just fine. She misses her though, and can’t wait to see her again.

There’s a knock at the door, a surprise to Harper. She lets Stella know she has to go, hanging up and going to answer the door.

Shawn is on the other side, obviously a shock to her. He acts nonchalant as he greets her with an eyebrow raise, awkward but just charming enough that he can pull it off.

Shawn: Wanna grab a drink?

Off Harper’s uncertain expression, as “Die Young” floats in --

INT. COLLEGE PARTY - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Die Young” as performed by Kesha || Performed by Riley Matthews

Speaking of drinking, the college party is in full swing! Riley is right in the center of it all, leading a spunky and high energy rendition of this pop classic. She’s parading around with red solo cup in hand, dancing with friendly college girls, having a rocking good time. She also catches the eye of a handful of boys, being a bit flirtatious in her devil-may-care state. There are older men of 19 or 20…

It’s the most wild she’s ever been, and it’s obvious she’s reveling in it. Accommodating and unassuming Riley Matthews, finally doing something because she damn well feels like it.

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Jack and Anne Marie are having a quiet conversation, interrupted by a knock at the door. Jack goes to answer it, unexpectedly finding a winded and very flushed Eric standing outside.

Eric, broken: It’s my fault. It was my fault.

Jack allows him inside the apartment, guiding him in and immediately trying to get him to calm down. But Eric is in emotional hysterics, doing everything aside from actually crying. He can hardly breathe, he’s tripping over his own words, the works. Jack exchanges a look with Anne Marie, not sure what to say.

She gets the message, grabbing her coat and purse and stating that she’ll give them some space. As she goes, she gently touches Eric’s shoulder and expresses her sincere condolences for everything that has happened. Then she exchanges a cheek kiss with Jack, stepping out and leaving them alone.

Eric grows more frantic, totally incomprehensible. Jack guides him towards the couch and gets him to settle, trying to get him to listen instead of spiraling out of control.

Jack: Eric.

Eric: How many times did we say we needed to bring him in to chat? How many times did I remind myself that I needed to see him but let it get brushed aside by something else? How many times did I meet with him, only to let him go without making any progress?

Jack: Eric --

Eric: We knew, Jack! I knew that something was wrong, I saw the signs, and I didn’t act quick enough! I failed him! It’s my fault, it’s my fault he --

Jack: Eric!

Jack grabs his shoulders, jostling him lightly to get him to pause. He does, allowing Jack the chance to retort. He shifts one his hands to grip the side of his neck, locking eyes with him.

Jack: This is not your fault.

Eric looks like he wants to argue, but he’s out of words. He stares at Jack, eyes glassy and still trembling. Jack holds his gaze… and then pats his shoulder gently.

Jack: Let me make some coffee.

INT. NYPD PRECINCT - HOLDING CELL - NIGHT

Dylan and Lucas are seated on the bench, the former looking nervous while the latter is slouched back against the concrete wall, resigned. Dylan is fidgety, twisting the bracelets on his wrist and tapping his feet and bouncing his leg.

Dylan: This is bad. This is so bad.

Lucas, sharply: Would you calm down? We’re white, we’ll be fine.

The door opens, an OFFICER entering and unlocking the cell. She informs them that someone paid their bail, but they have paperwork to process so they absolutely should not leave the precinct. However, they can retrieve their things and meet with their bail out. Lucas and Dylan exchange a look, following the officer out of the cell.

INT. COLLEGE PARTY - NIGHT

Riley is just finishing pouring herself another drink when THOR (20) sidles up to join her. He’s attractive, sandy-haired, just the right amount of charming. He engages Riley in conversation, asking her a little more about who she is and commenting that he hasn’t seen her around before.

The conversation seems fun for her. She enjoys playing mysterious, leaving him with little answers but accepting his invitation to go dance.

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Eric has had the chance to settle, no longer frantic but instead having transitioned into a numb sort of state. Jack returns with steaming mugs, handing one to Eric who takes it robotically. Jack sits down next to him, placing the coffee on the table.

Jack: Do you have any idea how much I respect you? Especially now.

Jack points out how hard the last week was on all of them, but especially Eric. And now he has to carry his feelings about it all on top of the collective school emotions, hardly getting any time to process it for himself. So it’s no wonder that he’s feeling overwhelmed --

Eric: I could’ve done something. I could’ve stopped it.

Jack: You know that’s not true. You know that’s not how these things work.

Eric: It was my job. It’s my job to protect them, and I failed.

Jack: Eric, listen to me. [ leaning forward ] This is not your fault. You did not fail. And if you did, then it’s on both of us. It’s both of our jobs to take care of those students. So if it’s on you, then it’s on me too.

He reaches forward and pats Eric’s knee, getting his attention. Eric stares at his hand, then slowly lifts his gaze to meet his eyes.

Jack: You know we work together. We should’ve tackled this together, and we’re going to handle it together. [ softly ] You are not going to face this alone.

Eric hangs on his every word. There’s something about the moment that’s deeper than just a moment of camaraderie, one that neither of them can place but that certainly exists between them… when Jack’s cell phone rings, making both of them jump. He digs for it in his pocket.

Jack, apologetically: Could be the Minkus --

Eric nods, understanding. Jack jumps to his feet, frowning at the number on his caller ID as he steps away to answer it. Eric takes the moment to collect himself, letting out a sigh and hiding his head in his hands.

He straightens up when Jack shouts from the kitchen, startling him.

Jack: He what?

Jack flurries back into the room a second later, scrambling to find his coat. Eric asks what the hell is going on, but in his frenzy Jack isn’t very helpful.

Jack: I have to -- Lucas. He -- I need to go to the station --

Eric: The station? What --

Jack: Please, feel free to stay as long as you need. I’ll be back soon. [ a beat ] Hopefully. Shit. Jesus --

Jack exits in a huff, leaving Eric alone in his apartment.

INT. COLLEGE PARTY - NIGHT

Dancing with a cute stranger at a hazy college party is all fun and games… until it isn’t. Although it doesn’t seem all that out of place considering how other duos around them are acting, when Thor makes an unexpected move and kisses Riley’s neck she clearly isn’t on the same page. She might be tipsy, but she’s cognizant enough to know that’s not the direction she wants to go in.

She jerks away on instinct, Thor still keeping a hand on her arm. He asks her if everything is okay, seemingly innocent. She clears her throat and searches for an excuse, laughing nervously and stating that she doesn’t feel much like dancing anymore.

In the midst of backing away, somehow Thor manages to back her into a dead end against a wall. He suggests that they can go somewhere else if she wants, not reading into her discomfort despite how obvious it feels. Hands shaking and feeling distinctly cornered, Riley grasps for any excuse she can think of.

Riley: I, um… I have to use the restroom.

INT. COLLEGE PARTY - BATHROOM - NIGHT

Riley skirts past a couple of drunk college girls, ducking into a stall and trying to catch her breath. She starts to tear up but talks herself down, knowing she needs to keep her cool. She needs to stay calm, and then she needs to figure out an escape plan.

After a moment, she pulls out her phone. She fumbles to open it, going to her messages and scrolling back to find the right contact.

INT. NYPD PRECINCT - LOBBY - NIGHT

Dylan and Lucas emerge from the hall with the officer, retrieving their items from a plastic bag from when they were arrested. As they direct their attention to the main waiting area, the identity of who bailed them out quickly becomes clear.

Asher marches away from the counter, eyes wide and voice frayed.

Asher: WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?

He’s interrupted before he can even finish the question, Dylan barreling him with a bone-crushing hug. He embraces him with everything in him, obviously so relieved he’s there.

Lucas looks a little less thrilled. He stares at them, confusion shifting to defensive disdain.

Lucas: You called Asher?

Asher pulls back from the hug first, glancing between them. Dylan speaks before he can address Lucas, asking how the hell he paid to bail them out.

Asher, reluctantly: … the fund.

Dylan’s face drops, mortified. The last thing Asher should be doing is dipping into his college fund to get them out of trouble -- especially after expressly stating he needed space.

Dylan: I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call. They said call someone, and my first thought was --

Asher: It’s fine. But I’ll ask again. [ looking right at Lucas ] What the hell happened?

Lucas holds his glare, not knowing what to say. He’s saved by the bell, or in this case, his phone ringing. He steps away to answer, turning away from Dylan and Asher. As he frowns at the caller ID and answers the call, in the background Asher takes Dylan’s face and questions whether or not he’s okay.

Lucas: Hello? Riley? [ a beat ] Wait, what? [ a beat ] What?

Dylan and Asher shift their attention to Lucas, watching him warily as he starts to pace. Whatever he’s hearing on the other end, it can’t be good news.

Lucas: Stay where you are. Don’t talk to them. Where are you? [ a beat ] Okay, stay put. It’s going to be okay. I’m coming. It’s going to be fine.

Lucas hangs up, alight with restless energy again. He marches back over to the other two, exhaling shortly before locking eyes with Asher.

Lucas: I need your car.

Asher: I’m -- what? No.

Lucas: I need to go. Riley is -- I have to go now.

Dylan: What’s wrong with Riley?

Lucas: I have to go. Give me your keys.

Asher, stunned: You’re seriously telling me --

Dylan: They said we couldn’t leave --

Lucas: GIVE ME YOUR KEYS!

Asher flinches, reflexively tossing them in his direction. Lucas catches them, not even saying thanks as he sprints out the doors. Dylan and Asher whip around to watch him go, wearing matching shocked expressions.

Dylan, with dread: We’re so fucked.

Asher glances at him then back to where Lucas left, slowly shifting from shocked to pissed.

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Eric has returned from the kitchen with another cup of coffee, familiar enough with Jack’s apartment from all the hours they’ve spent working together. He settles back onto the couch, breathing deeply and trying to get himself to relax.

He shifts his focus to the paperwork Jack has on the table -- the student files of the junior class. Likely in preparation for their senior summary reports. He flips through them idly, smiling lightly at the grinning portraits of the junior class and their photos from the last three years.

Eric stops cold when he gets to Farkle, smiling smugly back at him from his sophomore student portrait. There’s a subtle shift, just barely perceptible, between that image and the one from junior year. Eric swallows, gently putting down the report back onto the table. He puts it right next to Isadora, and Charlie on the other side.

All of them, right there in front of him. All having no idea how much they mean to him, how desperately he wants to protect all of them like his own family.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “These Are My Children” as performed by FAME Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Eric Matthews

Eric kicks off this impressive vocal performance, sorting through the student files as he articulates how important this role and his influence on the children means to him. He uses the full expanse of Jack’s living room to work through his emotion, delivering a powerful rendition.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

In keeping with the other performances of the evening, the number is split half between his location and half on the AAA stage, railing into the performance with everything he’s got. It’s cathartic, at the very least, and it certainly makes the point crystal clear.

The students at Adams are his children. And he never wants to let another one slip through the cracks ever again.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “HUMBLE.” as performed by Kendrick Lamar || Instrumental

INT. ASHER’S CAR - NIGHT

Lucas is parked outside the college party, staring at the building with obvious reluctance and disdain. He can hear the bass thumping from outside, and a crowded, loud, rowdy hole in the wall is the last place he should be when he’s already on the block for the joy ride.

But he goes anyway. Lucas scowls and climbs out of the car, slamming the door.

INT. COLLEGE PARTY - NIGHT

From the moment he enters the space, it’s overwhelming. Lucas frowns at the haze of smoke and odor of alcohol and weed, weaving his way through the crowd and scanning for Riley. College girls spot him and share interested looks and giggles, but he doesn’t pay any attention.

Finally, he finds her.

Lucas: Riley -- Riley!

He pushes through the crowd to get to her, Riley whipping around when she hears his voice. Her eyes are wide and uncertain.

Riley: Lucas?

He finally makes it to her side, taking her arm and pulling her from the fray. He double takes when he actually gets a good look at her, taking in her… new style. He seems a bit torn on whether or not he should consider it attractive or not, and well aware that this isn’t the time to be thinking about that anyway, but Thor addressing them grabs his attention before he can make a decision either way.

It’s not just Thor, but Thor with friends. There’s about three of them now, and Thor questions where Riley is going so soon. Lucas can tell from her body language and the way she kinda ducks behind him that they’re what caused her to call him in the first place. He does his best to keep things from escalating, calmly explaining that they’re just going to head out.

Thor: Oh, well, you don’t have to rush out. I thought we were having a good time. Weren’t we? [ off Riley’s hesitant expression ] Of course she’s shy now. It’s okay, you don’t have to get bashful around your boyfriend.

Friend, slurring: Didn’t have those problems earlier.

Friend 2: Thor was just telling us how friendly you are. Thought we’d come get to know you ourselves.

Riley looks like she’s going to be sick. Lucas narrows his eyes, fighting a losing battle in keeping control of his anger.

Thor: It’s not like it’s a problem, you’re welcome to join us. [ loftily ] Thought we might have more fun as a group, actually.

Lucas, sharply: Yeah? You think it’s fun to hit on a minor?

That comment seems to hit something in Thor’s drunk friends, but they’re not sober enough to remember why that should be problematic. There’s a little more of a tense back and forth until Riley tries to end it, taking Lucas’s arm and starting to pull him away.

Riley: Lucas, let’s just go. Come on.

Friend: Yeah, go on then, bulldog. Woof!

Lucas is scowling, but he follows Riley’s directive. It’s only after they’ve turned away that Thor makes a crucial mistake.

Thor: Her loss. Fine, then. Go be a nobody somewhere else, slut!

Everything happens so fast. In a second, Lucas has spun back around and thrown a punch, hitting Thor so hard and quick that he falls backwards into his friends. As they’re reacting and regaining their bearings, Lucas doubles back to Riley and starts to drag her out of there.

Lucas: Come on. Come on!

Riley tears her gaze away from the carnage, taking his hands and holding on for dear life as he shoves his way through the crowd.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay and Charlie have evidently been making bold moves of their own. The untidy quality of the bed sheets is enough of an indication, although Charlie is in the process of fixing them for the sake of fixing something. He might want to start with his hair, which is equally messy, but that seems to be far from his mind. He’s fidgety, looking caught between guilt and discomfort as he restlessly makes the bed.

Zay returns from the hall, having just done some tidying up himself and pulling on a sweatshirt. He tells Charlie not to worry about it, in much lighter spirits than his boyfriend. Charlie can hardly look at him, swiveling away once his distraction of nitpicking has been taken away.

Sensing that something might be up but not wanting to jinx things, Zay searches for upbeat ways to break the silence. He’s rambling, almost, scrambling for anything to say that will make the oddly serious air between them disappear.

Charlie, suddenly: This wasn’t good.

Zay: … well, I don’t know if I would say that. Sure wasn’t perfect, but uh, you know, I don’t think it’s necessarily supposed to be. First time. [ a beat ] Like a lot of things, I think it just takes practice --

Charlie: No, no, not that. It was… fine. I mean, it was okay. I don’t -- it wasn’t good that we did this. That I did this.

It grows quiet. Zay chews the inside of his cheek, obviously trying to grapple with the unpleasant turn this is taking. He isn’t sure what to say.

Zay: If you mean… if this is about the “Heavenly Father,” or whatever --

Charlie: No, it’s not that either. It’s just… I just think that… [ exhaling ] I don’t think I did this for the right reasons.

Zay frowns. Doing what they decided to do tonight is already an overly emotional endeavor, and that’s heightening the way they’re reacting to one another. But he knows he doesn’t want the conversation to go where it’s going.

Zay, quietly: … you said it was okay. I asked you like, a thousand times, because I wanted it to be okay --

Charlie: I know. And when I said it --

Zay: I didn’t even know if -- I wasn’t sure either, you know? [ quicker ] I didn’t know if I was ready either but I figured if you were, if you seemed so sure, then --

Charlie: It’s not that I… it didn’t have anything to do with you.

Zay: Then why? Why would you do it if it wasn’t about you and me?

Charlie grimaces, running his hands through his hair. He snaps out a response, explaining what his mom said at the dinner table about sin and this backwards way of thinking about Farkle, and he can’t stop thinking about Farkle in general, and how life is so fucking short and abrupt and holds all these choices that he has no control over. So he just… he just wanted to do something. He wanted to choose to do something and have control over it and feel like it was okay.

Zay, stammering: And you didn’t think -- you didn’t think to tell me about that?

Charlie: I don’t know! [ voice cracking ] I just knew that I wanted to be with you, and I wanted to feel something, and have control over something, and not have my mom’s voice in my head confirming that empathy means nothing if the Lord doesn’t agree and how I can never fucking tell her about this --

Zay, exasperated: Are you ever going to tell anybody?

That’s enough to stop Charlie dead in his tracks. Zay is looking at him, vulnerable and worked up, and Charlie wants to be able to tell him what he wants to hear. Even in the midst of how confusing and overwhelming it all is, he wants to be able to give him that reassurance.

Instead, he hesitates. He hesitates just a second too long.

Zay’s lip trembles, expression shifting as he attempts to keep it together. He shakes his head, turning away from him and letting out a shaky breath.

Charlie: Zay, I’m not saying that… like I said, this doesn’t have anything to do with you.

Zay: It should. This is one of the things that should.

Charlie: I didn’t mean to --

Zay: You know that I don’t… I would never expect you to… but we’re supposed to be doing this as a team. We’re supposed to be together on this.

Charlie, tearing up: We are --

Zay: And it’s supposed to be leading towards something! If we care about each other and this means something it’s supposed to be moving towards a future -- you even said just last week that…

He can’t get his thoughts together. He can’t wrap his head around how spectacularly this has spun out, how he feels closer to him than ever but also betrayed and confused and a cocktail of every other emotion they’ve made each other feel in the last eight months.

Zay: What are we even doing?

Charlie shakes his head, stepping forward and taking Zay’s arm.

Charlie: We are -- Zay, listen to me. Listen. [ choked up ] Zay, I --

Zay: What?

Zay whips around to face him, meeting his gaze. Not letting him hide, waiting for him to say what he hasn’t been able to say.

Zay, softer: … what do you want to say to me, Charlie?

Charlie stares at him, glossy-eyed. Mouth parted open, the words on the tip of his tongue -- what he feels so strongly it’s consumed him inside and out.

But he can’t say it. He can’t put it into words the way Zay needs to hear.

Zay nods, not surprised. He gently pulls his arm from his grasp, turning away from him and wiping at his eyes. Charlie stands frozen, unable to move.

Zay: [ almost inaudible ] I think you should go.

Charlie, tearfully: Zay --

Zay: Please. [ a beat ] Just go.

Charlie waits a moment longer, hoping things will go back to before. Hoping somehow everything will go right side up again, that they’ll be the same… but it doesn’t. It won’t. He swallows back his tears and robotically gathers his things, glancing over his shoulder at Zay one more time before he disappears from the room.

Zay grits his teeth until he hears the front door close. Then he lets out a broken exhale, collapsing onto the bed and hiding his head in his hands.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Secret Love Song, Pt. II” as performed by Little Mix || Performed by Zay Babineaux

Delicately singing the opening notes of this coveted Little Mix ballad, Zay works his way into what is his most heart-wrenching and emotional performance to date. There’s no choreography or extravagance to distract from the killer vocals, just raw emotion and impressive pipes.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

His performance follows the same pattern as the others, splitting its time between his grounded location and the imaginary AAA stage.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Zay rounds out the piece by approaching his window, looking out and seeing Charlie in his car. He’s clearly crying, mirroring Zay’s own tears, but right now there’s too much distance between them. Too much weight from hasty decisions that they can’t take back or redo.

He pulls it together and drives away, Zay watching him go. Then he slides back down against the wall, leaning his head against the window sill.

INT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

There’s a knock at the door, BLUE NGUYEN jogging in from the bedroom to answer. He looks through the peephole and then pulls open the door, a windswept and tired Isadora standing there with her bags on the doorstep.

Neither of them say anything. Blue steps back and lets her into the apartment without hesitation, gently shutting the door behind them.

INT. ASHER’S CAR - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Love Like This (Acoustic)” as performed by Kodaline || Instrumental

Lucas has parked a ways away from the party in a mostly empty parking lot. The music plays softly over the radio, set to one of Asher’s usual stations, but otherwise it’s quiet.

They aren’t looking at one another. Lucas is chewing on his thumbnail, keeping his gaze trained out the window. Riley is making herself as small as possible after the evening she’s had, hugging herself and slouched low in the passenger seat.

After a long moment, Lucas lets out a sigh.

Lucas: What the hell were you thinking?

Oop. Wrong thing to say. Riley looks at him, staring in disbelief.

Riley: What was I thinking? [ a beat, louder ] What was I thinking? You’ve got to be kidding me!

Valid reaction. Lucas cringes as Riley lays into him, straightening up and reminding him of all the stupid choices he’s been making in the last few months. The terrible attitude. The stealing. The shutting down and shutting out of people who actually care about him, who have done nothing but try and help him and he’s given back bullshit.

Riley: So you have the nerve to ask me what I was thinking? No. Sorry. I know this was dumb, and I know I shouldn’t have done it, and I had to pay for it. But I am not going to take a lecture from you!

[ There’s a long silence. Riley huffs, slouching back against the seat and crossing her arms tighter across her chest. ]

Lucas: … you’re right.

Riley: And I think -- [ realizing what he said ] What?

Lucas, defeated: You’re right. I’m stupid. I’ve been… I’ve been fucking up non-stop basically since summer. [ a beat ] Most of my life, if we’re being honest, but… whatever. That’s not the point.

Lucas goes on to repeat that she’s right, and he knows he’s fucked everything up. Now all there’s left to do is deal with it, regardless of how much he wishes he could keep running from it. Riley examines him for a long moment.

Riley: Well, if tonight demonstrated anything, I think it’s safe to say that running sort of creates more problems than it fixes.

Hard lesson to learn, but it seems they’ve both made it there eventually. They absorb the sentiment for a moment before Lucas speaks again, asking what he actually cares about. He looks at her, speaking more gently.

Lucas: Are you okay?

Riley, exhaling: [ after a long silence ] No. I’m not.

[ Lucas frowns. It looks like he wants to do something, but clearly has no idea what or how anything he might say or do could be remotely helpful. ]

Riley: But I will be. [ with a scoff ] Someone has to be.

Sad, but true. And it’s the mentality she will survive by, so she’s not letting it go quite yet. Lucas nods, shifting his gaze back out the dashboard window.

This gives her the chance to look at him again. She takes him in, finding the words she wants to say.

Riley: Thank you for coming. When I called. You didn’t have to --

Lucas, without hesitation: Of course I did.

He shifts his intense expression back to her, immediately softening when they lock eyes. It’s the first time they’ve really looked at one another all night -- it’s the first time they’ve really looked at one another in what feels like too long --and as soon as they do it’s difficult to look away. A million and one feelings floating between them, left unspoken.

Lucas manages to look away. He focuses on the car, remembering everything waiting for him back at the precinct. He murmurs about getting Riley home and turns on the engine, reaching for the gear shift.

Riley meets him there, touching his hand and keeping him from putting the car in drive. Lucas freezes and glances down at their hands, then at her, uncertain.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even look at him, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Keeping her hand on top of his, finding warmth and comfort in it even in the midst of so much chaos and darkness.

Lucas lets his gaze drift back to their hands. He hesitates… then flips his hand over and links their fingers together. Holding her securely, confirming the notion that she’s not alone.

The two of them sit there in silence a while longer, fingers intertwined and thoughts left unsaid.

INT. BAR - NIGHT

A refreshing change of pace, the rustic-style bar is bustling and lively with adults enjoying their Friday evening. Harper and Shawn are two of those responsible adults, clinking their shot glasses together before downing another at their high table. Shawn nearly chokes on his and Harper cracks up, signaling that both of them might already be a bit tipsy.

Shawn: You can hold your liquor, Burgess. [ coughing ] I’ll give ya that.

Harper: [ with a shrug ] I went to Triple A.

Shawn: Touche.

Harper smirks, picking at their shared nacho platter. There’s a beat of silence between them, then Shawn opts to speak.

Shawn: You’re right about a lot of things, I’ll give you that too. Mostly about me.

Harper, cringing: Well, I don’t know if --

Shawn: No, no, don’t diminish yourself on my account. Stuff you said to me… [ taking a sip of his beer ] Spot on, basically. Except the neckbeard comment. I will argue that.

Harper lets out a laugh, somewhere between amused and nervous. Shawn grows more serious, waiting for her to make eye contact with him.

Shawn: Truth is, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Never have. I got this job because my brother did me a favor, chance to get my life back on track, and I figured okay, sweet. I’ll get upright, find a better alternative, and blow this joint.

Harper: But…

Shawn: But those kids, man. They’re devious. They get in your head, and it’s like, suddenly you care about them. Suddenly you care more about their well-being than your own, and you can’t just walk away from that. [ a beat ] So I’m still here, but that doesn’t mean I know jackshit. Certainly not anymore than you do, even though I sure felt the need to make it seem like I did. [ a beat, sincerely ] And I’m sorry about that. You got thrown in the deep end, and I didn’t throw you a life preserver. That’s on me. And I’m even more sorry it took something like… all this to snap me out of it.

Harper absorbs this, trying to determine whether or not it’s genuine. Then she nods, taking a sip of her own drink.

Shawn: But I’ll tell you this, something else you should know about me. When I turn over a leaf, I turn it over. I’m telling you I’m on your side now, and you better believe it. [ raising his bottle in cheers ] We’re in the underworld, Burgess, but we’ll navigate together. Sound cool?

There’s a moment of contemplation. Then Harper manages a smile, clinking her glass against his. As their drinks meet --

EXT. NYPD PRECINCT - NIGHT

Asher’s car door slams, Lucas walking sheepishly from the parking lot to where Asher is waiting for him on the curb. He’s got his hands stuffed in his pockets, glaring at Lucas and shuffling restlessly from foot to foot. There are clearly things both of them want to say, but it’s gotten harder to speak now that they’re in front of one another again.

Lucas: Where’s Dylan?

Asher, shortly: His dad came to pick him up.

Brisk conversation. Lucas has made it to join him on the curb. He tentatively holds out his keys -- Asher snatches them from him, stepping off the curb without comment. Then he thinks better of it, whipping back around and approaching Lucas again. When he speaks, his voice is strained with anger, but also trembling.

Asher, fiercely: The next time you want to ruin your life, you can leave Dylan out of it!

Lucas attempts to cover for himself, to offer some sort of explanation that makes all of this better, but he can’t. There’s nothing he can say, and there’s no way to make this better. Asher clenches his teeth, eyes glossing over as he shakes his head at everything Lucas starts to say.

Asher: Look, you can do whatever you want, Lucas. You were right the whole time -- it doesn’t matter. Not to you.

Lucas: That’s not true.

Asher: You can do what you want, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t. I’m done.

Asher turns to go, starting to head into the parking lot. Lucas steps down off the curb after him.

Lucas, panicked: Asher --

Asher: Don’t!

Both of them freeze. Lucas pauses and then steps back, respecting his wishes. Asher hesitates for one last second, almost turning around… and then he marches towards his car.

Lucas watches him go, looking more regretful than we’ve ever seen him. That is, until he turns back towards the precinct and sees Jack impatiently waiting for him by the front counter, looking absolutely livid.

INT. ASHER’S CAR - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Younger” as performed by Ruel || Performed by Asher Garcia

The instrumental starts just as Asher shuts the car door, taking a moment to absorb what the hell just happened. He lets out a sigh and falls back against the driver’s seat, pressing his palms to his eyes and trying to keep from crying.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

Asher’s performance takes on a slightly different structure than the rest, still split between the real world as he drives home and the AAA stage, but also this blast from the past. It’s essentially a fabrication of the origins of Lucas and Asher’s friendship, the two of them sneaking out late at night in freshman year to go wander around and talk. From the way they both grin and crack up as they go, despite being cast in shadow, it’s a stronger advocate for their relationship than anything we’ve seen as of late.

The things that Asher is so deeply holding onto, wishing things were that simple again.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

But as mentioned, he takes the stage too, and the emotion of the rendition makes it near masterful. The performers in the A class might be chilled to know there’s some serious talent hidden in the depths of the techie crew, and Asher is perhaps the most prominent example.

INT. GARCIA HOME - ASHER’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Asher makes it back to his bedroom as the song hits the bridge, clearly exhausted. He slips off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, going to organize his things off his desk but getting caught on looking at his bulletin board again.

Carefully, he pulls another photo from the second layer of pinned items -- a picture of him and Lucas from freshman year. It’s difficult to look at, painful to acknowledge how much he feels like has changed. As he sings the lyrics “but we’re out of time,” he folds the picture in his fingers, like he’s crumpling it for good.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

The memory of Lucas and Asher have made it to Central Park, on the Gapstow bridge. Both of them are looking out over the edge, Lucas no longer looking at Asher.

Asher takes a moment to look at him -- really examine him, trying to figure him out. Wondering if the time they’re spending together is worth it, or if he’s wasting his energy on someone who will never return the favor.

Only this time, he doesn’t just stand there until Lucas is ready to move. As the song builds to the final chorus, memory Asher turns and hesitates one last moment… before walking away. Heading in the opposite direction, leaving Lucas behind him.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Which launches him right into the last chorus, delivering the powerful vocals with resounding emotional force. It’s obvious how difficult this is, how much it hurts, how badly he wishes this wasn’t how things were.

So I can't call you my brother, the way that we used to When we were younger, younger...

Asher finishes out the performance with a flourish, nearly stumbling as he backs out of the spotlight. He’s tear-stained, flushed, running a hand through his hair and honestly disoriented as he tries to figure out what he’s supposed to do next.

Then he exits the stage, leaving it empty and cold.

INT. BLUE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Isadora is in the living room, set up on the couch to crash for a few days. Blue comes in ready for bed, asking if there’s anything else he can get for her before he calls it a night. She assures him that it’s all good, and makes a point of thanking him for letting her stay. He tells her any time.

But it’s clear Isadora will not be finding rest any time soon. She scrolls through her phone, hesitating on the brink of a decision. Then she sits up, hitting call on her phone.

After a moment, VALERIE DE LA CRUZ picks up on the other end. She asks what’s up, and there’s a second where Isadora pauses. Then she starts to tell her everything, starting with Farkle and spiraling down into everything that’s happened since.

Actually opting to let her mother in, in spite of how unfamiliar the practice feels.

EXT. NYPD PRECINCT - NIGHT

Jack and Lucas exit the precinct, the former leading the charge and digging his keys from his pocket. Lucas lags behind, not wanting to have to go home but also not sure he wants to face Jack’s disappointment. It’s harsher than usual because it’s quiet. He’s not reprimanding him, he’s not yelling. It’s just… nothing.

Lucas: Aren’t you going to say anything?

Jack: I don’t think you want to hear what I want to say to you right now.

Lucas stops in the middle of the parking lot, not following him anymore. Jack realizes he’s no longer behind him, spinning and finding him waiting. Looking at him, expression blank, not defensive or waspish or bitter. Just waiting.

Jack sighs, holding his arms out.

Jack: Okay, you want to hear it? I don’t want to say anything because I don’t think it’s worth the effort.

Lucas, quietly: … not worth the effort.

Jack: Yes. Because there’s nothing I could say that I haven’t already said to you before. Don’t do this, don’t do that, think. Think. Think! But you never do. You never listen, and we always end up back in this spot, starting over again.

Lucas: … I didn’t mean for...

Jack: [ growing frustrated ] I can’t keep doing it, Lucas! I can’t keep sticking my neck out for you and trying to help only for you to take advantage of it at every turn. You can’t help somebody who doesn’t want to be helped. So I’m not wasting my breath anymore. [ a beat ] Now get in the car so I can take you home.

Jack doesn’t wait for him to respond. He walks over to his car and unlocks it, keeping true to his word and not wasting anymore energy than necessary.

Lucas stands there for a moment, absorbing the full consequences of his actions. It’s like it’s all collapsing on him at once, domino after domino falling over until there’s nothing left. He’s caught in the red glow of Jack’s tail lights, a tear spilling over and sliding down his cheek.

He wipes at it hastily, sniffling and then shuffling his way over to the car. He climbs into the passenger seat without a word.

INT. HOSPITAL - LOBBY - NIGHT

Maya is still dressed in her graffiti garb, removing her knit cap and twisting it in her hands. She seems a bit lost as she tries to figure out where she’s going, the nurse at the front desk asking if there’s something she can help her with. She assures her she’s fine, and when she informs her that visiting hours are done for the evening, she explains she’s just here to pick up her sister from visiting their father.

She makes up a room number and sends the nurse on a wild goose chase, waiting until she’s out of sight to head down the opposite hallway and exploring for herself.

INT. HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - NIGHT

Maya makes her way along, reading spare paperwork and files as she goes to try and figure out where exactly she’s headed. Finally, she arrives at her destination, frozen in the doorway and unable to progress any further. The temporary nameplate on the door confirms she’s made it.

F. Minkus.

Maya peers around the door.

INT. HOSPITAL - FARKLE’S ROOM - NIGHT

And there is FARKLE MINKUS. Fatigued and hooked up to a dozen little wires but alive, seemingly snoozing in his hospital bed. A laptop and briefcase on the window seat indicates that he’s already got a visitor, but no one is around.

Maya stares at him for a long moment, until the sight of it becomes too much. She starts to turn away, making her escape --

Farkle: Maya?

She winces, not sure she actually heard him. She glances back over her shoulder, Farkle half-awake and blinking at her from across the room. He looks confused, but not upset to see her there. Maya deliberates before easing her way inside, taking the seat next to his bed.

Maya: … hi.

Farkle: What are you doing here? [ dazed ] Visiting hours are… except for family…

Maya: I just wanted -- I had to see you.

That said, it’s not necessarily for good reasons. Maya explains what Eric said, about all the emotions she might be feeling. And he’s right -- she is feeling all of that. She’s furious at him, furious that he would do this without even thinking about the rest of them. She’s mortified by the prospect of him not being there -- never being there again -- despite her statements that she’s better off without him. And because of that she’s confused, not sure whether she wants to forgive him or not but now all the things she was upset with him for originally feel trivial or stupid, which isn’t fair because he still did those things. And those things shouldn’t just get wiped clean because he tried to escape them permanently.

More than anything, though, she admits that she can’t believe he was going to leave without her. That he was just going to leave her behind in the most irreversible way possible, and she can’t even begin to wrap her head around that. She doesn’t want to exist in that world.

Maya: Everyone kept saying I needed to talk to someone. I had to talk to someone about you, about what happened. They kept saying that, but the only person who… the only person I could even fathom wanting to talk to was you.

That much, Farkle can understand. He’s clearly out of it, and it’s a wonder how much of this he’ll remember later, but it’s helping Maya to say it.

Maya: I just wanted to talk to you, but I don’t know if that’s what I wanted to say. I’m not sure what else to say. I’m still trying to… figure it out. I just hope that you -- I hope you realize --

She can’t articulate it. Farkle squints at her, trying to understand.

Maya: I don’t want this bullshit world if you’re not in it, Farkle. You got that? I’m not -- we’re not all dandy but -- it’s bullshit if it’s not with you.

Maya doesn’t offer the chance for clarifying questions. She rises from the seat and makes a hasty exit, disappearing before anyone can catch her or Farkle can ask something she doesn’t yet know the answer to.

INT. HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Nothing Stops Another Day” as performed by Ghost Original Cast || Performed by Maya Hart

As Maya winds her way through the halls of the hospital, she launches into what is essentially the thesis of the episode -- and in some ways the season. Darkness is going to eclipse the light sometimes, and there will always be bad in the world. But the world keeps going regardless, and she can either succumb to it and disappear, or keep marching onward in spite of it.

Because the world keeps turning, and I guess it always will I can choose to turn around or I can choose to just stand still Either way, nothing stops another day...

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

Of course, Maya delivers an equally stirring rendition while on the fictional AAA stage, completing the trend for performances of the evening. And, tellingly, this lyric rings particularly true as we come out of the frost of February and launch into the rest of our season:

Winter can’t hold back the spring, no matter how dark it may seem…

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT

Maya climbs back through the bay window, Riley already seemingly in bed and asleep after the crazy night she’s had. As Maya makes her way to her bed, she stops when she sees the item that has been left on her comforter.

The photo from Farkle’s locker of the two of them. Obviously left there by Riley, figuring she might want it all things considered.

As Maya rounds out the performance, she steps up to her future moodboard and adheres the photo to it. Surrounded by everything else, but taking a definitive space.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

The A class has assembled again on Monday, having survived another tough week. But the ripple effect of everything that has happened peeks through in subtle ways, like Maya nowhere near as glamorous and put together as usual and letting that vulnerability show. Isadora is next to her, equally as tired but still marching on. Asher is sitting closer to Dylan, their hands linked in his lap. Zay and Charlie can’t look at each other. Lucas is nowhere to be found.

Harper takes the front of the classroom, Shawn settling back against the teacher desk in the back and crossing his arms. Harper starts by apologizing for her outburst late last week, then explains that the reason she’s sorry is not because she had one, but because she wasn’t being candid with all of them. The truth of the matter is, this is just as difficult for her as it is for them, and she’s also feeling conflicted, overwhelmed, reckless, unsure.

In the midst of her speech, she grows uncertain. She glances back towards Shawn, who gives her an encouraging nod. Having her back, as he said he would.

She clears her throat, getting back on track. Some of her former confidence back intact, she explains that it doesn’t do anybody any good for them to struggle through this alone, so they’re going to get through it together. The class seems into this, offering weak smiles and nods. Dave gives an endorsing thumbs up.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Smile” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by AAA Juniors

Harper gestures Riley up to stand with her, allowing her to take the reins and explain her idea of how to honor Farkle. As the soft guitar strums float in…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The junior A class keeps it painstakingly simple for this performance, in their regular clothes and seated along the edge of the stage. Dylan and Dave play their guitars, Riley taking the gentle opening verse and then allowing the vocals to pass amongst their classmates. The divas abstain from solos, instead giving Yindra, Clarissa, Darby, and Yogi the chance to shine.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

While this unfolds, Riley leads her classmates in the decoration of Farkle’s locker. They’re adorning it with photographs, letters, flowers and warm wishes and small things for him to find when he finally returns to school. Each of them are taking the matter seriously, but also finding joy in the task. Lots of exchanged timid smiles, a couple of nervous laughs.

The reason Lucas is not in class is because he’s playing guard dog, set up on the floor next to Farkle’s locker and keeping people from stepping on the display or being careless around it. Putting his protectiveness and delinquency to good use. No one tries to stop him.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

A fair majority of the A class have shed tears in the process of the performance, but somehow it’s a good thing. Relieving, a sense of catharsis, all of them sharing in the emotion together rather than attempting to fumble with it on their own. Riley reaches out and takes Maya’s hand -- Isadora squeezes Dylan’s shoulder.

It’s nice to hear their voices in harmony again, singing about looking towards the future with optimism rather than dread. It’s not going to be easy, and there’s much to rebuild, but Maya’s earlier sentiment is right -- winter can’t hold back the spring, no matter how dark it may seem.

INT. HOSPITAL - FARKLE’S ROOM - DAY

Their assembled voices float over our last shot of Farkle, asleep in his hospital bed but in recovery. Completely unaware of the impact he’s had, how grateful people are that he’s still there. STUART MINKUS is there with him, having fallen asleep in the chair by his bed and holding his son’s hand.

You’ll find that life is still worthwhile, if you just smile…

END OF EPISODE.

IF ANY of the content in this episode has been triggering, please reach out and talk to somebody you trust and who can help you. The following links are resources including hotlines, prevention organizations, and international numbers.

Suicide Prevention: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

List of Suicide Hotlines: https://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines https://suicidestop.com/call_a_hotline.html

#S2 #episodes #208 #and here we are.

[fantroll-purgatory]

@theshieldswordandcrown

I’d like it if you guys could look over my tea man for me! (Art by my friend lythaeriahomestucks. I haven’t made him a sprite yet.

Oofadoofa it’s been a while. Hi I hope your roleplay group is fun!

World: Alternia, but the draft is a lot further off than in canon, because none of my group is interested in roleplaying interstellar space battles or politics, especially considering the amount of setup that would have to go into making deep space believable. Though I think Friendsim’s stated they’re dragged off planet at 9 sweeps, so he’d still have a little time before getting dragged underground anyway.

Name: Oolong Matcha. Yes, they’re both types of tea. It started off as a quick joke, but I’ve grown to love it. Not only is matcha green, like his blood, but he’s a gardener, and really enjoys tea.

Mmmmm I mean joke trolls are famously canon in Homestuck. See: SWIFER EGGMOP or the salt and pepper shaker troll BUTTT mmmm. I feel like naming a character based at least partially on Japanese monks Oolong would deserve some side-eye. But I like the matcha bit! So let’s see…I like him being a gardener since monastic gardens were very much A Thing, and one of the famous still-extant ones is at Rievaulx abbey, so maybe we give him RIVULX, which sounds sufficiently trollish and is obvious enough for someone to get the reference.

Age: 9.69 Sweeps, or 21 Earth years.

Theme/Story: He’s partially themed after monks, specifically Irish and Japanese, which was originally an excuse for his bald head, but ended up influencing his clothing, calm demeanor, and lusus. I was also, oddly, thinking of 4chan – not maniacs like /pol/, but just average people who don’t get out enough, like to chatter about anime or cooking, and generally act like a bit of a dipshit. Fatherhood is definitely a theme with him as well – he’s already a father figure to two other trolls.

Hmmm. I like the broad concept, but I think we can tighten up a little on the “monk” theme by expanding it. Review Goals: General overview, classpecting advice, filling in missing details like fetch modus or lunar sway, etc.

Strife Specibus: He greatly prefers to snipe threats before they reach him, but if he’s forced into melee, he’ll grab a pipe and go berserker nuts. He takes satisfaction in neutralizing threats, especially if he’s protecting someone or something. He’s not averse to talking things out, but dislikes putting others on the line.

Hmm. None of that is a strife specibus, though I suppose you’re going for riflekind and pipekind. Generally void players use fistkind since it’s the absence of a weapon, but if you want to give him another option besides hand-to-hand melee may I suggest poisonkind? He could use something from his garden, like monkshood :3c. Or if you want to give him a melee weapon he could use the sansetsukon per the 36th Chamber of Shaolin, which would double as a symbol reminder since he could arrange the segments in a backwards s. Fetch Modus: ;;3;; I have absolutely no idea.

What about a clue modus where the items are obscured but contain details describing them? With the caveat that some of them will have similar color/taste/textures listed. I think this might be fun because there are actually *two* famous detectives with the last name Monk, Adrian Monk and William Monk.

Blood Color: Jade.

That works great, especially with Friendsim’s reveal that many jades are indeed monastic/cloistered.

Lunar Sway: Not sure.

Given that he’s a monk and you have painted him as someone unlikely to cause conflict or rebel against the system, I think he’d be a Prospit dreamer.

Title: Knight of Void, someone who exploits what little secrecy and irrelevance he has for all it’s worth. He was first conceived as a Bard, to fit into a fansession, but I eventually decided it didn’t fit what the character had developed to be. 

Symbol and Meaning: I made it up, and it doesn’t have a name. It’s an infinity symbol, broken in the center - like this, but flipped 90 degrees clockwise. I guess it could tie into his aspect by…destroying infinity, I guess, but I really haven’t put that much thought into it.

If we’re going by the EZ, he would be Virittanius, the Deliberate. Which I think fits him quite well! It also looks like a further corruption of the sign you gave him, so I may toy with that a little in the redesign. Handle: I feel like I might have given him a serious handle at one point, but if I did, I forgot it, so for now, it’s oolongMatcha. Just his name. Considering his classpect and desire for secrecy, this makes about as much sense as a rain barrel made out of crackers, but I’m not sure what to give him.

Since his new initials are RM, maybe revenantMyiopsitta. Revenant, of course, to hint at the fact that he’s part of the blood caste most commonly associated with rebirth after death, and Myiopsitta being the genus for two types of parakeet: the cliff parakeet and the monk parakeet. So we have his true identity as well as the unusual nature of his hive, both concealed in plain sight. Quirk: he types in all lower case and likes putting his horns in his emoticons! ’:)  Maybe doing it like (:; would make more sense, as it’s his right (our left) horn that’s busted.

I like it! Depending on his redesign you may also want him to uƨe backwardƨ ƨ’ƨ to mimic hiƨ ƨymbol.

Special Abilities: Supreme Dadliness. Jokes aside, he’s a crack shot, even with his impeded vision, and has been successfully flying under the radar his whole life.

If you still want him to be a crack shot even with the changes I suggested above, maybe he uses blowdarts to poison his enemies from afar?

Lusus: His father is a MASSIVE white snake; I was thinking some kind of constrictor. Personality-wise, he’s close to a prototypical 50s dad. He’s a safe haven for his son and those his baby cares about, and is exceedingly patient, to the point of letting a small child fingerpaint on him. He’s also willing to carry Oolong in emergencies, though I’m not really certain that would work in real life, movement-wise.

I feel like the snake can be a little overplayed as a lusus. If we want to give him something similar to a mother grub as a jadeblood, why not a massive butterfly based on the monk/dusky friar? It also gives you the mechanics for how his dadderfly would carry him around in emergencies.

Interests: He used to spend a lot of time alone on the internet - I originally conceptualized him as a very lonely NEET, to the point he had to find his wallet to remember his own name - but has become more adventurous and friendly, spending more time with his girlfriend and friends (and he has friends now!) He’s very proud of his garden and fruit trees, some of which are rare, difficult to grow properly, and/or dangerous (offering more security).

Huh! You don’t explain *how* he goes from isolated to friendly, but I’d hope that gardening is a way for him to reach out to others since it’s a hobby you can commit to on your own but bond with other hobbyists.

Hive: He lives out in the woods by himself, though not so far from other trolls that he can’t take the day to go shopping or see his mate. His hive is surrounded by his garden on all sides, and has a very visible path down the center (making it easy for him to see anyone approaching, and shoot if they’re a threat). Trees surround it, and dangerous plants are strategically placed to make going through his garden unpleasant at best (it also makes weeding a pain, but he thinks it’s worth it). His hive is especially unusual in that the porch is raised up to the second floor with large poles, and you have to use a ladder to get up to it (unless you’re snakedad, in which case you go up the poles). He has a remote so he can let it down from the ground, as well as access to it on the platform, so he can let people up himself. I don’t think the ground level has a door. I’d be happy to submit pictures, if you want.

Feel free to show us pictures, but I like the concept a lot!

Appearance: Tall and rail-thin, excepting his oddly curvy hips. (I figured due to jades being majority female, developing jade males might be exposed to more than the usual amount of estrogen and androgens. Also I’m way more used to drawing women than men and his initial outline was a gal for like ten minutes.) He shaves his head bald. (This is because A) I didn’t want to bother trying to figure out men’s hair - I almost never draw dudes - and B) he’s partially themed after monks, who often shave their heads. I don’t remember why he says he does it.)

…man, I’m gonna take issue with the way you phrased this description. There’s a lot of gender essentialism going on in your explanation there, and given that a number of us mods are trans and nonbinary I feel obligated to point out a few things:

1) Trolls are bugs. They’re not even mammals. They aren’t exposed to androgen or estrogen or any hormone to give them a certain body shape. It is quite heavily implied that when the mother grub gives birth it is to a bunch of larvae.

2) I know that Homestuck lore has given us largely jade girls and one jade trans guy but that’s no reason to assume that jade men are broadly more “feminine” by default in *any* dimension

3) Even if trolls *did* work like humans, it rubs me the wrong way to see someone talking about a man’s “oddly” curvy hips like I’ve got guy friends both trans and cis with wide hips and the only reason to remark on it at all is because We Live In A Society that forcibly genders people in relation to physical characteristics.

…So I am otherwise taking your description at face value. ______ Matcha is tall, rail thin, with curvy hips and a bald head. I will probably add some little fangs, per the Alternian fashion guide.

He wears leggings (unless it’s very hot) and long tunics or robes, usually tan, with his symbol emblazoned on the breast. He goes barefoot if he can. His right (our left) horn is broken, due to an accident in his youth (I think he fell onto something?), amusingly improving his vision, since his unbroken left horn points in front of his left eye, obscuring it somewhat.  His face could almost be described as delicate, and his default expression is calm.

I don’t knooooow that tan is a color trolls wear all that often in Alternia, so I will see how I can rework that in the redesign. I get him being barefoot, but I may give it a shot spriting him monk shoes for if he wants to go on an outing. :3c For his broken horn…hm. When we see trolls with physical damage, it is almost always something more significant than just “childhood accident” (see: every troll in Homestuck except Equius who somehow had like 3 simultaneous accidents?). I have an idea for his horns that I will get to in the redesign, and I will probably add a hook to his front horn, both because it’s a jadeblood trait and because it seems suitably horrifying to constantly have a sharp implement millimeters from your eye.

Personality: Oolong is a nice, fatherly young man, well regarded by most he meets. He really really likes tea. He has a beautiful, dangerous mafiosa matesprite in a rustblood named Andora Ingenu, and they adore each other. He’s also taken on the substitute dad role for an adorable young fuschia who lives in the swamp near his forest, Lillie Waters, teaching her how to cook (and keep her tools clean) and rescuing her from other fuschias. He’s very protective of his and his loved ones’ privacy and safety, and spends a LOT of his time in the massive gardens around his hive, of which he’s deservedly proud. He is very good at being sneaky, and sometimes takes the time to run around seeing what he can get away with, especially in the realm of snatching seeds up for his garden. He sells whatever plants he can grow for money, especially fruits and vegetables, but he doesn’t really enjoy sales. He doesn’t put a lot of stock in blood superiority, but doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He’s oddly well adjusted for someone who spent most of his life alone.

I like this description! Also looking at his close compatriots, it looks like I can swap the tan in his design for rust or fuchsia. We already see jadebloods wearing a fair amount in the red/burgundy/purple spectrum, so it should fit right in with the others.

Land: I don’t remember if I’ve come up with one. If I did, I feel like it may have heavily wooded areas, dark and tangled and difficult to navigate.

Hmmm. What about Land of Rough and Reflection (LORAR)? Covered in rough terrain, with pools to contemplate oneself. Unbeknownst to your troll, there are switches at the bottom of each lake (deeper than he could ever hope to dive and hold his breath) that must be flipped to drain the lakes and free the consorts from the underwater caves in which they’ve been trapped for generations. His land would initially seem completely empty and without guidance, and it neatly parallels his own situation before he began to socialize.

I hope you like him! :) I’d love to see what you guys think of him.

He’s certainly an interesting troll, and I hope I’ve helped by way of sharpening up on his theme! Let’s move on to the redesign.

Top to bottom as usual!

Hair - I gave him some stubble courtesy of fan-troll (I have never managed a post without plugging fan-troll/tajazzled’s sprite sheet and I’m not gonna stop now)

Horns - I wanted to make his other horn sort of…curve away from his head so it looks like his symbol from above?

Eyes and brows - they didn’t change but big ups to fan-troll for giving me bases to modify!

Mouth - this is a modification of Sollux’s mouth but I gave him lil fangs and a little lower lip definition

Robes - I just modified some of Kanaya’s robes, appropriately enough! I decided to go for a red/pink shade that was between rust and fuchsia so he could fit in while subtly broadcasting his allegiance

Shoes - they’re John’s but with buckles! :B monk shoes

Aaaand that’s about it for my critique! I hope this helped!

-TR

#jadeblood #submission #oolong matcha #oolong #matcha #theshieldswordandcrown #rivulx #rivulx matcha #review #redesign #tr review

[xoleahbeanxo]

Halloween Short #13

The Witch

Eliza knelt, her head against the iron bars. The gentle sway of the wagon tried to lull her to sleep but to no avail. Instead, she stared at the young soldier on horseback, behind the wagon. Her gaze didn’t wavier.

Duncan stared at her with the same intensity. He’d never seen a witch before, judging from all the stories, they had long raven hair, witch-fire green eyes, and skin pale as the moon. This witch was warm and tan with short brunette locks, and earthen colored eyes.

She looked nothing more than a peasant in the wrong place at the wrong time. That is where his inner conflict lay. Duncan wasn’t a witch hunter. He barely believed they existed outside of fables, yet Friar Morton was convinced she was one.

“Eliza.” She said.

“Huh?” Duncan responded, jolted from his thoughts.

“Judging by how long you’ve stared, I assume you wished my name.”

“Nay, but all the same, thank you. My name is-”

“Duncan.”

She could see he was taken aback by this.

“Not witchcraft,” She laughed. “I heard the driver call your name.”

“Ah, clever.” Duncan joined in the laugh, feeling oddly calm beneath her gaze.

“Can we stop, I have to-” She gestured downward with a flick of her head.

“Again? This will be the fourth stop in so many hours.” Duncan laughed.

“A lady doesn’t discuss powder room habits.”

“Fair enough.”

He gave her a nod and trotted forward.

“Bowman, pull aside, our quarry has to stop.”

“Oy, again? Stop giving her so much to drink, ya tit.” The man, at the reigns, grumbled.

“We may be escorting a prisoner but we are still gentleman, sir, now pull aside.”

“All right, all right, keep your cape on.”

Bowman urged the horses to pull aside the dirt road, lined with trees. Duncan slipped down from his horse to undo the lock.

“Thank you, good sir.” Eliza stated, stepping down.

Duncan waved away the pleasantry before giving her a boyish smile.

They walked a short way into the woods, where Eliza squatted down, behind some bushes, to do her business. She made sure, Duncan knew where she was.

“I would ask you to turn, but the situation makes it seem suspicious.”

Duncan rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze. “I wish I could but for what it’s worth, I’m not looking.”

“Such a gentleman, of that I’m grateful.”

“Tis a frightfully savage day-in-age, it takes every ounce of chivalry to make a difference, ma’am.”

“And what a difference it makes.” Eliza said.

When she was finish, Duncan helped her into the back of the wagon, locking it. She offered him a warm smile that made him blush.

Underway again, Duncan stayed close to the wagon so Eliza and he could talk. The sun setting forced them to continue by lantern light. The shadows of the trees had grown every ominous and long.

You’re not a witch?” Duncan asked finally.

“I am not.”

“Then how, pray tell, did they mark you as a witch?”

“That is a funny tale.” Eliza began. “I work at a tavern and to enhance the flavor, I’d put different herbs in the casks. One night, a man had way more than he could hand and killed a soldier in the brawl, he started. The constable investigated the casks, finding what I’d done. The murderer claimed I charmed him into violence. Now, I’m in chains, on my way to the capital for my fair trial.”

“Funny stories are meant to make me laugh; now I just want to cry.” Duncan scoffed.

“It is what it is, good sir. We all perish for one reason or another. No way is more just than the next.”

“Still, this isn’t justice. When I signed on to be a soldier, I wanted to help people, not to take them to their deaths.” Duncan said indignantly.

“Young ideals are hard to let go of my friend. It’s best to treasure the time you have.”

“Friend?”

“I assumed because I could dearly use one now.”

“Friend it is then.” Duncan smiled.

“Then as my friend, do you think we could make one more stop before the sunrise?”

“Aye,” Duncan said, riding up to talk with Bowman.

Grumbling the whole way, Bowman pulled the wagon to the side of the road and Duncan escorted Eliza to the side of the road, not daring to go deeper into the forest than that. She hesitated in her business.

“Whatever happens, know that you’ve made this trip pleasant.” She whispered.

“I just wish it had a happier ending.” Duncan admitted.

“You do?” She teased. “Then keep your sword sheathed and stick close to me.”

“What?”

Duncan felt the presence before he saw it. Something large and hungry moved from the shadows of the woods to right up beside the cart. It darted out, cutting down the horses with a fatal slash, spraying the dirt with crimson.

Bowman screamed, drawing his sword.

Another shadow leapt from the trees opposite the road and silenced him.

Duncan reached for his sword but halted when he felt Eliza’s hand on his. He met her once dark gaze, surprised to see the shimmering gold staring back.

The moments passed and the forest was silent once again. Large shapes stepped into the amber light. Three beasts, more wolf than man, all with glowing yellow eyes and hulking, hunched forms.

“Werewolves?”

“They’re my sisters; they’ve come to retrieve me.”

The darkest one smiled a silvery grin. “The trail you left, Eliza, was so easy to track.”

“Ah, I get it now.” Duncan felt sheepish. “All the stops we made?”

“A lady does not discuss her powder room habits, Duncan.” Eliza said jovially.

The other figures started laughing.

“What of this one?” The silver wolf asked, gesturing to Duncan with on large hand.

“He’s a gentleman and should be treated as such.” Eliza smiled, her fangs showing clearly now.

“Very well, let us go then.” The smallest wolf growled.

“Wait,” Duncan interjected. “Will I see you again?”

Eliza hesitated for a long moment, chewing her bottom lip in contemplation.

“Melanie, mark him, please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Very well,” The silver wolf shrugged. “Give me your hand, gentleman.”

Before Duncan could ask any questions, the wolf bit his hand hard. He stifled a yelp, watching blood pool from the wood with every heated throb.

Eliza tore a scrap of her dress and wrapped his hand tightly.

Their eyes met again as she spoke. “In three days’ time, I’ll come for you. In that time, severe connections, lose everything silver, and ensure that you will disappear.”

“Am I to be-”

“A gentleman,” She interrupted. “Always and forever.”

Eliza kissed his cheek before retreating into the woods with the others. With one last glance, Duncan saw her shift and sprint away, excited to see her once again, in three days.

#Horror #halloween #Drabble #Leendenwrites

[gold-from-straw]

Everything That Happens - ch5

I’ve Been Twisting To The Sun

The students return to Hogwarts, and Harry returns to the battle for the first of many attempts to save everyone. Again.

Read from the beginning on AO3 if you like!

“I can’t believe we’ve got an eighth year dorm, rather than being back in Gryffindor,” Ron grumbled, and dropped heavily onto his bed. “At least they’ve colour-coded our beds.”

“Feels weird to be so much lower down as well,” said Harry, looking out into the grounds from the second floor which had been repurposed into two large dorms and a central common room.

“Yes, well, they were lucky to be able to repair Gryffindor and Ravenclaw towers to the extent they did,” said Hermione, looking around. “As it is the year sevens are sharing with the year sixes.” She shook her hair out and sat next to Ron. “Only four Gryffindor beds - who didn’t return?”

“Dean Thomas,” Ron grunted from his position spreadeagled on his bed. “He’s got a place in a muggle art college, apparently. Seamus told me on the way up. At least Zacharias Smith moved overseas, we won’t have to share with him.”

The room was a cheery mixture of red, blue and yellow hangings, but Harry’s eyes were drawn to the two beds in the corner, the green almost apologetic and faded. “Who came back from Slytherin?”

“Nott and Malfoy,” said Hermione, darting him a quick look out of the corner of her eye.

“I can’t believe they’re making us bunk with that lot, honestly,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“Ron, leave it. The war’s over. I think it’s a good thing we’re all in the same room. I’ve always thought the segregation by house is way too partisan, and encourages bad feeling among students.”

“Hear hear,” said Justin Finch-Fletchley from a couple of places over. “And because we’re all of age, we can use the cupboards in the common room for firewhiskey.

The boys cheered and the chatter raised, regardless of Hermione’s disapproving looks.

***

Being back at Hogwarts was both a blessing and a curse. Seeing the school, his only real home, so battered and broken made Harry want to hide under the invisibility cloak and never open his eyes again. The great hall was quieter now, every house depleted in some way, and the colours looked muted, as if the castle itself was in mourning. The returning eighth years sat together at one table just in front of the teachers’ dais, and for the first few weeks, every dinner felt like a funeral.

On the other hand, every corner reminded him of something new to add to his list, some event he had to follow through to determine if it could be changed, or should be changed.

And seeing the new ghosts made Harry all the more determined to do it. Because he realised he’d been afraid, before, afraid that if he sent himself back to that horrible day, the smell of curse fire and smoke, the screams and yells and horror, that he’d freeze and possibly even make everything worse.

The first time he saw Colin Creevey he almost fell to his knees in the corridor. Dennis was sitting on a bench by the window, swinging his legs, and Colin sat beside him, translucent and yet more vibrant than anyone else in Hogwarts.

“Oh, Harry,” said Colin, looking up. “Hi! I’m glad we saw you, how are you doing?” he chirped, floating up.

“I… I’m fine, Colin,” he said shakily. “Ummm…” He glanced at Dennis, his little face so much younger than Harry had ever been, he was sure. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, no, no, Harry, you don’t have to be sad,” said Colin, giving him a chilly pat on the arm. “I was just telling Dennis here, nothing hurts, and we can still chat - and I’m not lonely either. Nearly Headless Nick says I can share the job of Gryffindor ghost with him, isn’t that great? All the house ghosts are taking on an apprentice, the Fat Friar’s got three!”

Dennis nodded up at his brother and Harry, and swallowed hard, trying a watery smile.

***

That night, Harry took deep, calming breaths as he lay in bed. They didn’t work. But he was determined to do this, determined to go back and save just one person. Colin would be easy, Harry could just make sure he left with the other evacuees, and then return to his own time, leaving his old self to run straight to the Grey Lady.

He tried to ground himself by listening to the quiet snores of his dorm-mates. The evacuation. Where had he been? Kingsley had been ordering people into position and then--

“Potter,” said Professor McGonagall, and Harry opened his eyes to focused, nerve-jangling chaos, jostled by bodies moving in every direction, the smell of fear, and God, even in his healthy future body his head hurt with it all.

“Aren’t you supposed to be looking for something?” McGonagall snapped.

“What? Oh,” said Harry. “Oh yeah!”

The Horcrux - she was talking about Ravenclaw’s diadem, and he couldn’t miss that, no matter what, otherwise saving one or two people would mean nothing. Even so, he caught a glimpse of Remus hurrying out into the grounds, and the twins into the school, and the sight of them all alive rocked him to his core.

He shook his head and rushed on. He had to focus! He’d been delayed last time, looking for the Grey Lady, but he knew where she’d be now. Instead, he hovered in the entrance hall, waiting, watching - there!

“Colin Creevey,” he snapped, whipping out a hand and grabbing the sixth year boy as he sneaked past. “And… you.” He pointed awkwardly at the Hufflepuff boys with him. “There’s a reason we’re evacuating you, now go.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Harry, we can help! We’re nearly seventeen, the age is just an arbitrary cut off, please!”

“No, Colin,” he said, gripping his shoulders hard and shaking lightly. Harry was small himself, but Colin was still tiny, his voice not even broken, and Harry had to swallow hard as he remember the ghost with long wavy hair. “Please go, all of you, please. You’ve… you’ve got to keep the little ones safe.”

He saw the Hufflepuffs glance at each other and seized on it. “All the overage students are here, who’s going to look after the little ones?”

“The fifth years?” ventured one of the Hufflepuffs tentatively.

Harry shook his head. “Nobody knows what the hell they’re doing in fifth year. It has to be you. And if… if we fail, someone needs to fight to get them home, yeah?” He ducked his head to try and catch Colin’s gaze. “Please… please go look after your brother? Don’t let me find you d-dead on a battlefield.”

Colin met Harry’s eyes. Maybe he saw something there, some truth, but he nodded once, solemn, and returned to the crowd. Harry saw him direct the other boys around the side and start to help with herding the evacuees out.

Harry took a deep breath, then felt a spike of fear rush through him. He couldn’t let the night get away from him! Where had he been… he’d been with those students, and then he’d come back and - and he was here! He’d come back here, and found Nearly Headless Nick!

He looked around wildly, everything different from the bottom of the stairs where last time he’d been at the top, but there! “Nick!” he yelled, and as the ghost turned, Harry relaxed his hold on his past self, and sprang back into his own time.

Harry’s eyes snapped open and he stared into the darkness, breathing fast. He sat up and checked the time, but it wasn’t even 3am yet. He sighed and slumped back onto his pillows.

Now he was awake (had he even slept at all? He didn’t think much time had passed while he was time travelling) he couldn’t bear to lie still. The soft breathing of his dorm-mates taunted him. Eventually he sat up and pulled the Marauder’s map out from his trunk.

Opening up the parchment and saying the words had an instant settling effect on him. He searched Ginny out just on instinct, and smiled to see his ex’s name floating in the girls dorms, bunked down with Briony Dunstan, and Romilda Vane from the year below.

Harry followed the names along Gryffindor tower, like a calming roll-call. The writing was crammed together more than usual, the sixth and seventh years in the same room on both the boys and girls side and - his eyes did a double take, catching on the name Colin Creevey and skittering back.

He stared at the map, hardly daring the breathe. Then, in a sudden burst of motion that tangled his legs in his blankets and almost sent him tumbling to the floor, Harry scrambled out of bed and hurled himself out of the dorms. He tore through the silent, moonlit corridors, up the moving staircases and stumbling against the Fat Lady’s portrait. “Pax,” he gasped out.

“If you say so, dear,” she yawned, and swung open. Harry scrambled through the hole, only pausing a moment in shock to see the common room half its usual size, a wall that had never been there before blocking off the room from the staircase that led up to the highest dorms. That must be the damaged section, he thought, blinking.

He shook his head and rushed onwards, up the stairs to the boys dorms labelled Sixth and Seventh years, and pushed his way in. He glanced down at the map, moving through the room, as silent and slumbering as his own had been, and ripped open the hangings at the foot of Colin Creevey’s bed.

Colin Creevey, living, not transparent, not dead and carried in by Oliver Wood, blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Wh- Harry? Everything OK?”

Harry stepped back, shaking his head, trying to turn away so he wasn’t staring like a creep. “Yeah. Sorry. Bad, uh… bad dreams. Got lost. Um. This was my dorm in sixth year.”

“‘Kay,” said Colin (who was alive!) lying back down. “‘Night, Harry.”

Harry stumbled out of the door and back down the stairs towards eighth year, a huge smile breaking over his face. He couldn’t believe it! He’d actually succeeded, actually saved someone. He could do this! Maybe he could bring them all back… maybe it just took a bit of patience and thought.

He was so dazed he didn’t see Draco Malfoy until it was too late, until his wand and the map went flying when they crashed into each other.

“What are you doing up here?” Harry blurted.

Malfoy turned away, his shoulders hunched. “I could ask you the same question, Potter.”

By the time Harry had gathered all his stuff and stood, Malfoy was halfway down the stairs. Harry watched after him with a deepening frown.

#My writing #Everything That Happens (Is From Now On) #drarry #angst #hurt/comfort #time travel

[ask-the-koopa-family]

Ludwig, Iggy, and Roy can you please react to the YTP called Friar’s Rubbing Wood 🪵 Fall Of Nottingham? Pretty Please 🙏🏼 🥺

Roy:" We'll see..."

[wjbs-aus]

Stuff that I'm hyped for this year (reposted because I did it too early):

Friday Night Funkin' Week 8 update/Full Ass Game

The next Saints Row game

More Hitman 3 content

The ULTRAKILL Wrath and (possibly) Heresy levels

Clash: Artifacts of Chaos

Across the Spiderverse

Pokémon Legends: Arceus

The Batman

The Jimquisition Top 10 Shittiest Games of 2021 (literally next week)

Portal 2: Community Edition

Friar's Rubbing Wood

Possibly a new Quake game?

Civvie's final Postal 4 video

Speaking of which, whatever Civvie's next video is

Breath of the Wild 2

More Doom Eternal content

#2022 #hype

[directlyjewelrysupplier]

how-to-make-a-cross-necklace

This super-simple wooden cross necklace will take you about fifteen minutes to make, and it’s perfect for a monk / priest / Friar Tuck costume. While monks were not actually allowed to wear cross necklaces (or any necklaces), when it comes to Halloween there is no easier way to let people know that you are not a Jedi or Sith Lord, you are are a monk. This one has special knot that allows you to adjust the necklace size, too.

Supplies you will need a piece of wood (around 3″ x 5″ x 1″ thick) a piece of string (preferably leather lacing) Tools you will need a band saw (or coping saw, or hand saw) a drill (optionally) a sander I made it at TechShop (techshop.ws) Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 1: Draw the Cross on the Piece of Wood

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Draw the Cross on the Piece of Wood Sample dimensions shown.

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 2: Cut Out the Cross

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Cut Out the Cross No need to turn corners: just make each cut straight from the edge. Be careful when you join the cuts at the corners: any gouges you make here will take a long time to sand out later.

If you don’t have a band saw, no worries: the cuts are straight, so you can use a hand saw, a coping saw, a hack saw, a sawz-all, or just about any saw (though a rotary saw will be difficult).

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 3: Sand the Cross

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Sand the Cross Sand the rough edges and any pencil marks. Square up your cuts. Remove any gouges. A belt sander will make a lot of this easy, but you’ll probably have to finish with some sandpapering by hand.

If you want to finish the cross really nicely, start with a rough grit sandpaper (like 60 or 100). Once you can’t do anything more with that grit, move up to a finer grit (150 or 200) and then finer and finer until you’re satisfied with the smoothness. I only went up to 150 grit.

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 4: Drill a Hole in the Top

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Drill a Hole in the Top Use a piece of scrap wood to brace the cross. This will make drilling easier, and it will also keep the wood from chipping where the drill bit exits the cross. Make the hole big enough for your string to pass through.

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 5: Apply Finish

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Apply Finish To make the cross look a little nicer, you can put some oil on it to bring out the grain. Lindseed oil is good. So is teak oil and about a bazillion other oils. I used Neat’s Foot oil (which is actually made for leather) because my teak oil had dried up. In a pinch you can even use vegetable oil or butter, though I’ve had a problem with ants when I did this.

Just rub it in and wipe off the excess with a cloth before it dries and gets sticky.

If you want to change the color, you can buy some wood stain (or use some shoe polish).

If you want to finish / protect the wood more, you can get a urethane coating, spray-on shellac, or other type of clear coat.

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 6: Thread on the String

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Thread on the String Thread your string through the hole in the cross.

Measure about how long you want the necklace to be. Then cut the string about six inches longer.

If you’re using leather lacing, you can cut the tip of the lacing to a point to make it easier to thread through the hole.

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 7: Tie an Adjustable Slider Knot

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Tie an Adjustable Slider Knot The principle of this knot is simple if you’ve ever tied a fishing line to a fishing hook before. You create a loop, wrap around the string several times, and then go back through the loop.

Do this with one end of your string (green), looping your loops around the other end of your string (red). Tighten. (Steps 1-3)

Now repeat with the other end of your string (red), looping your loops around the first end of your string (green). Tighten. (Steps 4-6)

Now you can adjust the length of the necklace by sliding the knots.

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 8: Adjust Length and Place Around Neck

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Adjust Length and Place Around Neck Adjust Length and Place Around Neck Slide the knots to adjust the length, and then loop that bad boy around your neck. Grasp the loop in both hands. The cross should be dangling at the bottom, and the loop should be open wide, with your left hand on one side of the loop and your right hand on the other side. Raise the loop until the center is at eye level. Duck your head forward so that your forehead just touches the bottom of the loop. Slide your hands (which are still holding the loop) backwards over the top of your head. Your right hand will slide just over your right ear, and your left hand will slide just over your left ear. Continue sliding your hands down the back of your neck until you feel the string touch the back of your neck. At this point the cross should be dangling just below your chin. Carefully release the loop with both hands. If you have done this correctly, the cross will not fall to the floor, but will be suspended from the string, which is supported by your neck.

Making A Cross Necklace Out of Nails {A Religious Craft for Kids, Teens and Adults} With Video! – Kid Friendly Things To Do

This beautiful Cross Necklace Made out of Nails has always been a popular Religious Easter Craft for kids and adults. It’s a nice rustic looking necklace that would be a great fit for Men, Women, Teens, and Kids. I think this is such a cool idea for making cross necklaces, key chains or a Sunday School craft for Easter.

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Cross Necklace Religious Craft for Kids

Cross Necklace Made out of Nails – A Religious Easter Craft… Here’s a short video on this Easy DIY Cross Necklace for Men, Women, Teens, and Kids to Wear…

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An Easter Craft for Sunday School

Years ago, my son’s Sunday School Teacher made this with his class for an Easter Craft. I absolutely fell in love with the idea, and I knew you all would too.

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A DIY Cross Necklace for teens

I love the rustic appeal to the necklace.

DIY Religious Craft for adults

I really love the fact that the Cross Necklace is made from Nails.

Religious Craft for Teens‘

For those of us that celebrate the resurrection of Christ, using nails for the cross necklace carries meaning behind it.

Making a cross necklace out of nails

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When I first posted this craft, I hadn’t actually made the craft myself. I just went by the example I had to explain the process. This time, I went out an purchased supplies to make it for a more specific tutorial for you.

Here’s What You’ll Need for your DIY Religious Easter Craft…

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Making a cross necklace out of nails

You’ll Need:

4 (2 inch) Masonry Cut Nails – the ones shown are (2 inches) Leather or Hemp Cord – about 24 inches (leather is more comfortable on the back of the neck) Glue Dots – Line Roll (I recently found out that glue dots come in rectangular 1-inch pieces now. You could also use the original circles, but I really liked how perfectly the strips of glue fit the edges of the nails) Optional – jewelry wire Low temp glue gun and glue sticks Here are my top Amazon Picks for this Cross Necklace craft: (affiliate links)

Here are instructions for this Easter Cross Necklace Craft…

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Making a cross necklace out of nails

take 2 of the Cut Nails and place them opposite of each other *Notice that they are “not” completely aligned at the ends. That is so the nails will be defined on the necklace better Use glue dots to secure them in place Do that again with another pair of Cut Nails

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Making a cross necklace out of nails

Now form the 2 pairs of nails into a cross Use a glue dot to secure them together

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Making a cross necklace out of nails

Take the leather or hemp cord, and at the middle of the cord wrap a loop at a diagonal around the middle of the cross

Secure with a knot at the back

Now, start wrapping the middle of the cross alternating with the pieces of hemp cord around where the middle of the cross meets

When you are finished, tie a knot on the back over the top of the X you have formed with hemp cord

*Another option would be to take jewelry wire and wrap the cord to the necklace so it makes it’s way up to the top of the nails and secure the nails with the wire at the top

Slip the necklace around your neck or use someone else as a model

Find the perfect spot to tie a knot in your hemp cord to form a large enough loop to pull on and off the head easily

tie the knot and you are finished

Use a low temp glue gun for any spots that don’t feel secure

Don’t forget – If you need a better visual, watch the 1-minute video for help in assembling the cross…

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Is It Okay To Wear Religious Symbols For Fashion?

Though cross necklaces have been around since the Roman Empire was Christianized, recently, crucifixes have become popular tropes among jewelers like New Top Jewelry and Instagram-popular brands like Bagatiba and Vanessa Mooney for fashion’s sake. Obviously, anyone who’s danced to Madonna or Billy Idol knows that the “fashion cross” isn’t a new phenomenon. In fact, it’s long been used to criticize conformity and chastity, which critics identify as two hallmarks of the Christian faith. But in 2018, there are far fewer people wearing the cross as a subversive act, and many more wearing it as a purely aesthetic one. Perhaps it’s because, in today’s climate, we’re holding each other to a much stricter standard when it comes to wearing sacred symbols out of context. With the upcoming Met Gala touching on the intersection of Catholicism and fashion, some are wondering whether coopting religious symbols for purely style-related reasons is fair game. Ahead of the event, I asked a few people who buy and make the pieces to share their thoughts — and across both designers and everyday Instagram followers of mine, there’s no definitive answer on what’s right or wrong when it comes to religious jewelry. Because for every practicing Catholic or Christian who wears the symbol religiously (take blogger Sami Weaver, for example, who sometimes shares her religious views on Instagram stories and has also worn vintage cross pieces on her page), there are those who are religious and choose not to — whether it’s because they’re no longer practicing regularly or feel there are other ways to express their faith than through clothing or accessories. Then there are those who don’t wear it for fear of offending someone, those who wear it to offend and comment on Christianity. Read ahead for their thoughts. 1 OF 15

“I’m not religious, but I do believe in a higher power. Four out of five of my best sellers on bagatiba.com are religion-related. A few years ago I decided to give people the option to shop ‘Religion.’ I gave Kendall Jenner our best-selling piece, the D2C Necklace I designed four years ago, and the trend took off immediately, in my opinion. I think 80% of my customers buy religious pieces for fashion purposes. I don’t think they understand what the crosses and charms mean, but that’s not my place to judge. They see girls like Kendall and Bella in them and think of it as a trend, rather than a lifestyle.” — Jessie Andrews, Founder & CEO, Bagatiba 2 OF 15

“We believe this trend is about personal expression. Jewelry is an essential part of expressing personal style, and unique style is closely tied to personal beliefs. We sell cross jewelry for this reason — to allow our customer to express themselves in the most authentic way possible. We find that our consumers are intentional. Wearing socially and environmentally responsible accessories is becoming more and more important to today’s informed consumer. Since Moissanite is both beautiful and conscientious, many of our customers are making personal statements by wearing our jewelry, and Moissanite crosses are no different.” — Sarah O’Dea, Director of Marketing + Communications, Charles & Colvard 3 OF 15

“Jewelry, to me, is simply expression. I come from a Christian Orthodox family from Lebanon and Syria. Naturally, the cross symbolizes what generations of my family has believed in. It’s a symbol of love and hope for my family and I. As a child, rather than getting toys for holidays, it was tradition for my family to give us pieces of jewelry. Only did I realize as I got older how much those pieces mean to me.

“Growing up, I worked with my father in the Diamond District in New York City. Seeing the cross in silver and gold has always been a constant in my jewelry box and my life. The trend may be here right now, but it personally doesn’t represent itself as a trend for me.

“I am religious in my own way. I believe everyone is entitled to their own spiritual journey and beliefs. I do believe there is a greater place my deceased loved ones live. I believe in angels, luckily I have a few.

“I took a trip to the Vatican last year. I have never seen so many rosary-style and religious jewelry in my life. The shops had them hanging all over the walls, different colors and materials. Although it was inspirational, it made me come to the fact that jewelry can hold such a powerful meaning to the beholder. I realized, whether it is religious jewelry piece or not, it is a moment in time, a sentimental feeling, a connection that can last a lifetime.” — Kelly Shami Creative Director, CEO, Shami 4 OF 15

“When I had [my brand] Lyell the first time around, it was a running joke that in every insane situation that comes with a clothing line business, I would say ‘have faith.’ Around the same time, I worked with a photographer who had it tattooed on his arm, and I also took it as a sign, — and to heart. It is something I do live by even though it’s hard to maintain all the time…just mentally.

“I am not Catholic, but I love the cross. I love how it looks on the wall and on the body. I have always had a little vintage one I planned to give my daughter. I plan for Lyell to do different things with them: earrings, colors, and beyond.” — Emma Fletcher, Founder and Designer, Lyell 5 OF 15

“Symbols are tricky things, because context dictates so much of their meaning. And while we sell a fair amount of religiously symbolic pieces to people purchasing them with their faith in mind, I love that we also have customers that find and appreciate beauty in objects that are outside of their beliefs. We need to cross more borders, and if wearing pretty things is a path to that, I’m all for it.”

[secretladyspizza]

Is It Okay To Wear Religious Symbols For Fashion?

This super-simple wooden cross necklace will take you about fifteen minutes to make, and it’s perfect for a monk / priest / Friar Tuck costume. While monks were not actually allowed to wear cross necklaces (or any necklaces), when it comes to Halloween there is no easier way to let people know that you are not a Jedi or Sith Lord, you are are a monk. This one has special knot that allows you to adjust the necklace size, too.

Supplies you will need a piece of wood (around 3″ x 5″ x 1″ thick) a piece of string (preferably leather lacing) Tools you will need a band saw (or coping saw, or hand saw) a drill (optionally) a sander I made it at TechShop (techshop.ws) Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 1: Draw the Cross on the Piece of Wood

📷

Draw the Cross on the Piece of Wood Sample dimensions shown.

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 2: Cut Out the Cross

📷

Cut Out the Cross No need to turn corners: just make each cut straight from the edge. Be careful when you join the cuts at the corners: any gouges you make here will take a long time to sand out later.

If you don’t have a band saw, no worries: the cuts are straight, so you can use a hand saw, a coping saw, a hack saw, a sawz-all, or just about any saw (though a rotary saw will be difficult).

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 3: Sand the Cross

📷

Sand the Cross Sand the rough edges and any pencil marks. Square up your cuts. Remove any gouges. A belt sander will make a lot of this easy, but you’ll probably have to finish with some sandpapering by hand.

If you want to finish the cross really nicely, start with a rough grit sandpaper (like 60 or 100). Once you can’t do anything more with that grit, move up to a finer grit (150 or 200) and then finer and finer until you’re satisfied with the smoothness. I only went up to 150 grit.

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 4: Drill a Hole in the Top

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Drill a Hole in the Top Use a piece of scrap wood to brace the cross. This will make drilling easier, and it will also keep the wood from chipping where the drill bit exits the cross. Make the hole big enough for your string to pass through.

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 5: Apply Finish

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Apply Finish To make the cross look a little nicer, you can put some oil on it to bring out the grain. Lindseed oil is good. So is teak oil and about a bazillion other oils. I used Neat’s Foot oil (which is actually made for leather) because my teak oil had dried up. In a pinch you can even use vegetable oil or butter, though I’ve had a problem with ants when I did this.

Just rub it in and wipe off the excess with a cloth before it dries and gets sticky.

If you want to change the color, you can buy some wood stain (or use some shoe polish).

If you want to finish / protect the wood more, you can get a urethane coating, spray-on shellac, or other type of clear coat.

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 6: Thread on the String

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Thread on the String Thread your string through the hole in the cross.

Measure about how long you want the necklace to be. Then cut the string about six inches longer.

If you’re using leather lacing, you can cut the tip of the lacing to a point to make it easier to thread through the hole.

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 7: Tie an Adjustable Slider Knot

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Tie an Adjustable Slider Knot The principle of this knot is simple if you’ve ever tied a fishing line to a fishing hook before. You create a loop, wrap around the string several times, and then go back through the loop.

Do this with one end of your string (green), looping your loops around the other end of your string (red). Tighten. (Steps 1-3)

Now repeat with the other end of your string (red), looping your loops around the first end of your string (green). Tighten. (Steps 4-6)

Now you can adjust the length of the necklace by sliding the knots.

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload Step 8: Adjust Length and Place Around Neck

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Adjust Length and Place Around Neck Adjust Length and Place Around Neck Slide the knots to adjust the length, and then loop that bad boy around your neck. Grasp the loop in both hands. The cross should be dangling at the bottom, and the loop should be open wide, with your left hand on one side of the loop and your right hand on the other side. Raise the loop until the center is at eye level. Duck your head forward so that your forehead just touches the bottom of the loop. Slide your hands (which are still holding the loop) backwards over the top of your head. Your right hand will slide just over your right ear, and your left hand will slide just over your left ear. Continue sliding your hands down the back of your neck until you feel the string touch the back of your neck. At this point the cross should be dangling just below your chin. Carefully release the loop with both hands. If you have done this correctly, the cross will not fall to the floor, but will be suspended from the string, which is supported by your neck.

Making A Cross Necklace Out of Nails {A Religious Craft for Kids, Teens and Adults} With Video! – Kid Friendly Things To Do

This beautiful Cross Necklace Made out of Nails has always been a popular Religious Easter Craft for kids and adults. It’s a nice rustic looking necklace that would be a great fit for Men, Women, Teens, and Kids. I think this is such a cool idea for making cross necklaces, key chains or a Sunday School craft for Easter.

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Cross Necklace Religious Craft for Kids

Cross Necklace Made out of Nails – A Religious Easter Craft… Here’s a short video on this Easy DIY Cross Necklace for Men, Women, Teens, and Kids to Wear…

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An Easter Craft for Sunday School

Years ago, my son’s Sunday School Teacher made this with his class for an Easter Craft. I absolutely fell in love with the idea, and I knew you all would too.

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A DIY Cross Necklace for teens

I love the rustic appeal to the necklace.

DIY Religious Craft for adults

I really love the fact that the Cross Necklace is made from Nails.

Religious Craft for Teens‘

For those of us that celebrate the resurrection of Christ, using nails for the cross necklace carries meaning behind it.

Making a cross necklace out of nails

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When I first posted this craft, I hadn’t actually made the craft myself. I just went by the example I had to explain the process. This time, I went out an purchased supplies to make it for a more specific tutorial for you.

Here’s What You’ll Need for your DIY Religious Easter Craft…

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Making a cross necklace out of nails

You’ll Need:

4 (2 inch) Masonry Cut Nails – the ones shown are (2 inches) Leather or Hemp Cord – about 24 inches (leather is more comfortable on the back of the neck) Glue Dots – Line Roll (I recently found out that glue dots come in rectangular 1-inch pieces now. You could also use the original circles, but I really liked how perfectly the strips of glue fit the edges of the nails) Optional – jewelry wire Low temp glue gun and glue sticks Here are my top Amazon Picks for this Cross Necklace craft: (affiliate links)

Here are instructions for this Easter Cross Necklace Craft…

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Making a cross necklace out of nails

take 2 of the Cut Nails and place them opposite of each other *Notice that they are “not” completely aligned at the ends. That is so the nails will be defined on the necklace better Use glue dots to secure them in place Do that again with another pair of Cut Nails

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Making a cross necklace out of nails

Now form the 2 pairs of nails into a cross Use a glue dot to secure them together

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Making a cross necklace out of nails

Take the leather or hemp cord, and at the middle of the cord wrap a loop at a diagonal around the middle of the cross

Secure with a knot at the back

Now, start wrapping the middle of the cross alternating with the pieces of hemp cord around where the middle of the cross meets

When you are finished, tie a knot on the back over the top of the X you have formed with hemp cord

*Another option would be to take jewelry wire and wrap the cord to the necklace so it makes it’s way up to the top of the nails and secure the nails with the wire at the top

Slip the necklace around your neck or use someone else as a model

Find the perfect spot to tie a knot in your hemp cord to form a large enough loop to pull on and off the head easily

tie the knot and you are finished

Use a low temp glue gun for any spots that don’t feel secure

Don’t forget – If you need a better visual, watch the 1-minute video for help in assembling the cross…

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Is It Okay To Wear Religious Symbols For Fashion?

Though cross necklaces have been around since the Roman Empire was Christianized, recently, crucifixes have become popular tropes among jewelers like New Top Jewelry and Instagram-popular brands like Bagatiba and Vanessa Mooney for fashion’s sake. Obviously, anyone who’s danced to Madonna or Billy Idol knows that the “fashion cross” isn’t a new phenomenon. In fact, it’s long been used to criticize conformity and chastity, which critics identify as two hallmarks of the Christian faith. But in 2018, there are far fewer people wearing the cross as a subversive act, and many more wearing it as a purely aesthetic one. Perhaps it’s because, in today’s climate, we’re holding each other to a much stricter standard when it comes to wearing sacred symbols out of context. With the upcoming Met Gala touching on the intersection of Catholicism and fashion, some are wondering whether coopting religious symbols for purely style-related reasons is fair game. Ahead of the event, I asked a few people who buy and make the pieces to share their thoughts — and across both designers and everyday Instagram followers of mine, there’s no definitive answer on what’s right or wrong when it comes to religious jewelry. Because for every practicing Catholic or Christian who wears the symbol religiously (take blogger Sami Weaver, for example, who sometimes shares her religious views on Instagram stories and has also worn vintage cross pieces on her page), there are those who are religious and choose not to — whether it’s because they’re no longer practicing regularly or feel there are other ways to express their faith than through clothing or accessories. Then there are those who don’t wear it for fear of offending someone, those who wear it to offend and comment on Christianity. Read ahead for their thoughts. 1 OF 15

“I’m not religious, but I do believe in a higher power. Four out of five of my best sellers on bagatiba.com are religion-related. A few years ago I decided to give people the option to shop ‘Religion.’ I gave Kendall Jenner our best-selling piece, the D2C Necklace I designed four years ago, and the trend took off immediately, in my opinion. I think 80% of my customers buy religious pieces for fashion purposes. I don’t think they understand what the crosses and charms mean, but that’s not my place to judge. They see girls like Kendall and Bella in them and think of it as a trend, rather than a lifestyle.” — Jessie Andrews, Founder & CEO, Bagatiba 2 OF 15

“We believe this trend is about personal expression. Jewelry is an essential part of expressing personal style, and unique style is closely tied to personal beliefs. We sell cross jewelry for this reason — to allow our customer to express themselves in the most authentic way possible. We find that our consumers are intentional. Wearing socially and environmentally responsible accessories is becoming more and more important to today’s informed consumer. Since Moissanite is both beautiful and conscientious, many of our customers are making personal statements by wearing our jewelry, and Moissanite crosses are no different.” — Sarah O’Dea, Director of Marketing + Communications, Charles & Colvard 3 OF 15

“Jewelry, to me, is simply expression. I come from a Christian Orthodox family from Lebanon and Syria. Naturally, the cross symbolizes what generations of my family has believed in. It’s a symbol of love and hope for my family and I. As a child, rather than getting toys for holidays, it was tradition for my family to give us pieces of jewelry. Only did I realize as I got older how much those pieces mean to me.

“Growing up, I worked with my father in the Diamond District in New York City. Seeing the cross in silver and gold has always been a constant in my jewelry box and my life. The trend may be here right now, but it personally doesn’t represent itself as a trend for me.

“I am religious in my own way. I believe everyone is entitled to their own spiritual journey and beliefs. I do believe there is a greater place my deceased loved ones live. I believe in angels, luckily I have a few.

“I took a trip to the Vatican last year. I have never seen so many rosary-style and religious jewelry in my life. The shops had them hanging all over the walls, different colors and materials. Although it was inspirational, it made me come to the fact that jewelry can hold such a powerful meaning to the beholder. I realized, whether it is religious jewelry piece or not, it is a moment in time, a sentimental feeling, a connection that can last a lifetime.” — Kelly Shami Creative Director, CEO, Shami 4 OF 15

“When I had [my brand] Lyell the first time around, it was a running joke that in every insane situation that comes with a clothing line business, I would say ‘have faith.’ Around the same time, I worked with a photographer who had it tattooed on his arm, and I also took it as a sign, — and to heart. It is something I do live by even though it’s hard to maintain all the time…just mentally.

“I am not Catholic, but I love the cross. I love how it looks on the wall and on the body. I have always had a little vintage one I planned to give my daughter. I plan for Lyell to do different things with them: earrings, colors, and beyond.” — Emma Fletcher, Founder and Designer, Lyell 5 OF 15

“Symbols are tricky things, because context dictates so much of their meaning. And while we sell a fair amount of religiously symbolic pieces to people purchasing them with their faith in mind, I love that we also have customers that find and appreciate beauty in objects that are outside of their beliefs. We need to cross more borders, and if wearing pretty things is a path to that, I’m all for it.”

[thejoniest]

POSTCARD 03 @ Anghiari

The trail continues weaving through mountains and forests passing a few isolated buildings to the mountain village of Badia Prataglia. The village is located within the Foreste Casentinesi, a national park that stretches out over 37,000 hectares. It has more than 600km of trail paths and 20 mountain biking routes. The area can also be explored on horseback, whilst in the winter it is open for cross-country skiing. In the village is a mid-19thC arboretum that was originally established for Leopold II, Grand Duke of Tuscany. The arboretum has a museum that also includes the Duke's former villa.

Skirting around the small village of Rimbocchi (1,640ft/500m), I am back in the woods admiring the tall trees, densely packed as I gently climb up to La Verna (3,937ft/1,200m) to visit the Franciscan sanctuary where St Francis is said to have received the stigmata in 1224. The sanctuary is home to several churches, chapels and a monastery. The site was taken under papal protection in 1260. The main church took over a century to complete from 1348 to 1459. The monastery was partially destroyed in the 15thC, suffering desecration during the war of this time and it took three centuries to be fully restored. The friars suffered further in 1810 and 1866 when they were expelled from the monastery as part of suppressing religious orders.

The sanctuary is nestled within a spruce-beech forest with specimens as tall as 160ft (50m) and some with diameters up to 5.9ft (180cm). The forest floor teems with wildlife such as deer, boar and wolf, whilst above one can find eagles, owls and peregrine falcons.

Leaving the sanctuary, I descended through fields and farmlands to Caprese Michelangelo (1,969ft/600m), a small commune where Michelangelo, a Renaissance era painter, sculptor and architect was born in 1475. Michelangelo was baptised in the village's church, St John de Baptist and a museum in his honour has been established inside a fortress. The aim of the museum is to document his body of works with plaster casts. The collection also includes sculptures and paintings donated by artists of the 19th and 20th centuries.

The terrain steadies a little with gentle undulations until I reached Anghiari, a sprawled out, hilltop town overlooking the Tiber Valley. The town centre, however, is a fortified collection of stone buildings and labyrinth-like narrow streets. In this compact location are a handful of museums including the Battle of Anghiari Museum. The battle was a 1440 event between the Republic of Florence and Duchy of Milan. The battle, comprising of thousands of foot soldiers and knights took only one day and according to Machiavelli it resulted in only one death of an unfortunate knight who fell off his horse and drowned in a swamp. The battle ended with the Florentines winning and securing their domination over central Italy. Leonardo da Vinci depicted a painting of the battle which has since been lost. Fortunately copies existed inspiring Paul Rubens to sketch a replica of the original.

The terrace in the town centre with its fortified wall was a perfect place to indulge in some Tuscan food, overlooking the landscape and residential homes. My starter was bruschetta which was a slice of Tuscan bread generously rubbed with garlic, lavishly drizzled with green olive oil and lightly sprinkled with salt (at home I might have chopped up some tomatoes and added it to the mix). This was followed by a hearty slow-cooked stew called "spezattino" and finished it with a scrumptious sugar-coated, fried doughnut known as "bomboloni". No meal experience is ever complete without a café macchiato.

#tcccamminodifrancesco #tccpostcards

[ddproductionsw77]

Still That Girl

Fandom: Girl Meets World

Pairing(s): Riarkle (Main), Charlie x Riley (Technically, not a glamorous potrayal), Smarkle (Past, hinted)

Characters: (Main) Riley Matthews and Farkle Minkus, (Mentioned) Maya Hart, Lucas Friar, Zay Babineaux, Isadora Smackle, Cory Matthews, Topanga Lawerence-Matthews, Auggie Matthews, and Charlie Gardner.

Rating: T

Warnings: Depression, Abusive/Unhealthy/Controlling Domestic Relationship, Underaged Drinking

Prompt from lucasfriarfan: Riley messed up. Big time, and this time, even Farkle can’t quite bring himself to forgive her. He won’t stand by and watch the girl he loves burn herself away, so after graduation, he decides to leave New York to protect his own heart. Riley, not realizing quite how much she felt for the boy, is devastated. She falls even further, dating Charlie, who has become someone no one would even want to know, and cutting herself off from those who love her most.

Charlie is controlling and Riley knows it’s wrong but he’s about all she has left so she can’t just walk away, right? So her family and friends watch as she continuously gives into her boyfriend’s demands and take note of how she never smiles anymore. Well, Maya Hart has had enough. She needs Riley Matthews back and she knows just the boy for the job… But is Riley even still that girl anymore? Can she ever be her again?

Author’s Note: Again, a lot in the prompt so I just worked off of that instead of writing it all.

I’m holding a picture from seven years back. I’m smiling as the memory, it’s smiling right back at me And I see brown hair and bright eyes… A heart full of laughter with nothing to lose, That’s how I remember you…

It had been a long time since Riley had stood in her own bedroom.

Months, maybe? She’d lost track of time, honestly, and had stopped caring even before that.

Dust had collected on the desk against the wall where she’d always done her homework. The bed was made with the same bedspread she’d straighten every morning before leaving for school for four years. The curtains of the bay window were drawn, casting the whole room into a darkness that didn't quite fit all of the memories she had there.

If she closed her eyes and strained her ears, maybe she could even trick herself into believing it was a year ago. Maybe she could go back, for just a moment, and do things differently. Maybe she could be something different, someone different.

But Riley didn’t close her eyes.

She didn’t play pretend, not anymore.

Running her nervous hands down the thighs of her jeans, she took another step into the old bedroom. The empty space where her friendship ring had been for so long still felt naked and sensitive from being uncovered. A flash of something hot and angry blossomed in her chest before stomping itself out.

Charlie didn’t like the ring. Riley didn’t wear the ring.

That was how it was now.

Tucking a long lock of straightened brown hair — Charlie didn’t like her natural curls — behind her ear, Riley ran a finger over one of the photos on her bedside table. The dust collected on the pad of her skin and she took a second to clean the glass with the pillow case closest to her.

It was an old photograph. Freshman year.

Her friends were all in a line, grins on all of their faces and arms wrapped around each other. Zay and Maya were laughing together, leaning on each other as if their knees were about to give out. Lucas was on Maya’s other side, chuckling at the pair. On the farthest right, Smackle was bent over with a rare smile on her pretty face, looking down the line. Her hand was linked with Farkle’s.

Farkle, who was holding Smackle’s hand but wrapped up in the girl at his other side, as always. A younger, softer, kinder Riley Matthews. A girl with bright eyes and a glowing smiling who had a boy with adoring eyes pressing his smiling lips to her temple.

Damn, she really had been blind back then, not to notice.

Maybe if she’d noticed things would have been different.

Setting the photo back down, she sighed and moved back towards the door.

She didn’t even know why’d she’d come back home. If Charlie knew, he wouldn’t be happy. She’d just felt drawn the old bay window and soft sheets of her childhood.

It's been so long since she’d felt anything, she’d decided to follow the instinct. Why not, right?

Riley still had the key to the apartment on her ring. She knew her parents would be at work, Auggie at school. They’d never even know she’d come back. No harm done… no more harm, anyway.

Riley could live with that. She was finding over time that she could live with a lot.

Stepping out of the bedroom, Riley closed the door softly behind her. Her back pressed against the wood, something strong and heavy grounding her feet to the boards under her worn sneakers.

Looking down the hallway, she knew she should be moving. Charlie would be home soon, at her new, real home. If she was gone when that happened…

Besides, her family wouldn’t want her here anymore anyways. Not after everything she’d done and definitely not when she’d been the one to push them away.

Still…

She didn’t want to leave.

A floorboard creaked and her head shot back up, heart jumping to her throat. Breath catching in her throat, she stared wide-eyed at the person now standing at the end of the hall. It felt like forever, it felt like a fraction of a second, but finally, she found her voice.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Farkle answered, stepping closer to her with his hands tucked into his pockets.

“I liv- I used to live here. Last I checked, you didn’t even live in this state anymore, let alone have a key to my family’s apartment.” Riley retorted, one hand still tightly gripping the doorknob of her childhood bedroom.

Something deep and desperate in her soul did not want Farkle to see the her of now side-by-side with the her in that photograph on the bedside table. She didn’t want to see his face with he compared the lifelessness of her once curly hair or when he realized there was no twinkle in her eye now.

Riley might not feel much these days, but she still didn’t want to risk it.

Farkle licked his lips, glancing to the side. Riley took note that he still hadn’t looked her in the eyes. Maybe he couldn’t? Like her, maybe he was too afraid of what he’d find. What he wouldn’t find.

“Maya called me.”

Maya had had his number? For how long? Not that it mattered to Riley because it didn’t.

It couldn’t…

But still Maya wouldn’t have kept that from her, would she have?

Farkle cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, “She said you weren’t doing too well.”

“I’m fine.” A programmed response, the response everyone expected. The one they all really wanted, right?

“Are you?” He pressed, his voice filled with a genuine concern that rocked Riley to her core.

Because, out of everyone she’d hurt and tossed aside, he was the one who should hate her the most. He should want her to suffer, he knew how much she deserved it. Yet, there he was, really just asking if she was okay.

Riley snorted, “Thank you for the concern, Farkle, really. It’s undeserved, but thanks.”

The young man sighed and ran a hand down his face, “Riley, if this is about what happened-“

“Of course it’s not about-“

“-I forgive you. It’s in the past.”

Riley stopped, looking up into his eyes and noticing he had been slowly approaching her the whole time. Now, their gazes met, all electric blue and chocolate brown.

He… forgave her?

But… how?

How could he forgive her when she couldn’t even forgive herself?

Suddenly, sickeningly, Riley was swept back to that night, over a year ago, when she’d burned him and their friendship to the ground with a smile on her face and a giggle on her lips.

Then your life took a turn, And you fell, And it hurt…

Long Island Iced Tea was all Riley Matthews would drink for the rest of her life, she swore to God. They tasted like sugar, liquor, and something delightfully sinful and she was hooked.

Laughing at the lights dancing across the ceiling, Riley moved to the music pounding through the room. She didn’t even care that some random guy was trying to grab her ass. That was high school, right? Being a teenager? Having fun?

She never had fun anymore.

Always Daddy’s Girl, Maya’s Good Influence, Lucas’ Perfect Princess, Farkle’s Sunshine.

Well, not tonight.

That Riley was gone for now and the one who’d taken her place was feeling a little drunk and a little dangerous and a lot more fun than ever before. A tongue that burned her lips pushed its way into her mouth and she let herself think it was because of raw chemistry and not because the dude had just taken his sixth shot. Damn, it felt good to not care.

“Riley! Come on, let’s just go!”

Farkle’s voice called over the music and just barely touched her brain. She knew she should push the random guy away and listen to her friend but that definitely didn’t sound as fun as staying right where she was.

“Get off her, man!” Suddenly the boy who’d been pushing her into the wall was gone and Farkle was grasping her wrist, pulling her away.

Her buzz, her precious buzz, was wearing with each step and anger flared in her chest as she yanked her arm back, “What the hell, Farkle?”

“Oh, come on, Riley! That guy doesn’t even know your name, let alone care about you!” Farkle threw his hands up.

“He doesn’t have to! That’s the point! I don’t want him to care!” Riley argued, stumbling a little as she tried to turn back towards the party.

Farkle stepped in front of her, eyebrows were drawn, “You don’t want to be with someone who cares?”

“I don’t want to be with someone I’m always having to spare.” She snapped, glaring.

Farkle rolled his eyes, “That’s a little self-centered.”

“You say that like you’re not who I’m talking about.” She whipped back, her words hitting him like a physical blow. Farkle went pale and seemed to stop breathing.

“Wh-what are you-? I don’t-“

“Everyone knows, Farkle!” Riley rolled her eyes, pushing at his shoulder. “Everyone tells me that I should just tell you it’s never gonna happen. Stop leading you on. Well, here goes.”

She rested a hand on each of his shoulders and narrowed her eyes on his wide-eyed, shocked ones. He was looking at her like someone might look at a loaded gun with the power to kill. Maybe she was that lethal.

Leveling their gazes, Riley slurred, “It’s never going to happen, Farkle. I’m never going to be the girl for you, mmkay? So let’s both just move on, hmm?”

Farkle’s lips pursed and his gaze dropped to the ground. Maybe she was so drunk she was seeing things, but it kind of looked like his eyes were watering…

He nodded frantically, wordlessly.

“So you’re gonna leave it alone now?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow. “You’ll leave me alone?”

He nodded more and swallowed, looking somewhere over her shoulder. Huh, his eyes were watering. “Yeah, I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t know you-“

“Knew? Yeah, well, I do.” She dropped her hands from his shoulders, clapping them together drunkenly. “Now, I’m going back to the party. You- you should just go home.”

Again with the mindless, numb nodding.

Oh well, who cared? Not her, not tonight.

Riley skipped back off to her random waiting boy and left Farkle behind.

But your story’s not over, It’s still being told, Your sunrise is coming…

Everything had changed after that night.

Farkle couldn’t even look at her. Maya was the angriest with her she’d ever been for hurting their shared best friend. Lucas had even told her that he ‘expected more from her’.

Well, that was the problem, wasn’t it? So many damn expectations.

Charlie hadn’t expected anything, though.

Things were so easy with Charlie at the start when everyone else had stopped talking to her. He didn’t give a shit about what she did. She didn’t learn until later that he didn’t really give a shit about any of her, but at that time it had been attractive.

He was a warm body, a non-judgmental face.

After graduation, when Farkle packed his bags and ran off to Princeton, when Maya flew to Rhode Island, and Lucas to vet school in Texas, Charlie stayed right there. He wasn't much and what he was wasn’t good, but he was something.

And she was weak so she thought something might just be better than nothing.

Coming back to the hallway, now a year older, Riley looked back at her bedroom door, “You shouldn’t.”

“You’re probably right.” Farkle nodded. “But I love you. I have since the first grade and I always will. You’re Riley Matthews.”

“No, I’m not.” She shook her head, echoing his own movements from that night so long ago, “That girl is gone. I can’t be her anymore.”

“Why not? Riley, you're the one who always believed she could be anything, the princess of her middle school class, the first woman on Mars.” Slowly, hesitantly, Farkle reached out and brushed the skin of her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “I miss that girl.”

She watched the goosebumps rise and once again acknowledged the inevitability of her body’s reaction to Farkle Minkus. Odd how even after so long apart her cells still responded to his with such natural ease. She barely even noticed when Charlie touched her but Farkle set her aflame.

Maybe she'd been wrong — of course, she was wrong. Maybe she’d been in love with him back on the night of that party. Maybe she still was. Too afraid then, too afraid now… For everything that had changed, that hadn’t.

“I miss her, too.”

Her vision blurred and she felt a joint of surprise when a tear rolled down her cheek as she blinked. It's been so long since she'd felt enough to cry. Honestly, she’d begun to believe she was now just too numb to produce the tears.

“So, work your way back. Riley, you’re still that girl, the one who could change the world. Maybe you’re a little off course right now but that doesn’t mean you can never find your way back.” He said, gently.

Riley closed her eyes, relishing the words she’d imagined him saying a million times. She wanted to believe it, wanted to trust that newborn flicker in her chest, fall into his reassurance and certainty.

But it was too late for her. Too late for him. For them.

So, when Riley opened her eyes, she forced herself to step back. The distance was for the best, for his own protection. Everything she touched, she broke.

She’d already left him battered and bruised once.

She wouldn’t do it again.

Without another word, she slowly shook her head and pushed past him. Escaping the apartment, she made her way back across town to Charlie and their shithole studio with no bay window. Again, she left Farkle behind.

But that was really for the best, wasn’t it?

But you’re still that girl.

- Still That Girl, Britt Nicole

I purposely left this prompt open-ended... you get to choose your own adventure here, I guess. Maybe Riley comes back? Maybe Farkle chases her? Maybe things end happy? Or maybe they don’t... you get to choose.

#riarkle #riarkle prompt #lucasfriarfan #prompt fic #prompts #writing prompts #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #gmw #girl meets world #depression #abuse #hurt #comfort #still that girl #britt nicole #bmw #boy meets world #riley #matthews #farkle x riley #riley x farkle #Riley Matthews #farkle minkus #farkle #minkus #au #Charlie #gardner