#Location Worn In: Two Rivers

[wheel-of-fashions]

Chapter 9

"big wooden maul"

[wrestlingwithlife]

That Is Some Wild West Shit Right There

When a mission goes of the rails and Y/n gets separated from the rest of the task force he is forced to use the skills he learned growing up in his home town to get back to his team.

Task Force 141 x Male!Cowboy!Reader

—————————————————————————————————————

“This has got to be the stupidest place to build some sort of evil science base.” Y/n hissed into the coms, back pressed up against a massive crate.

What Y/n assumed to be a lab was built practically on the side of a cliff. On one side of the lab you had a mess of trees that was practically just a jungle, and on the other a sheer drop off that led to one of the angriest looking rivers Cowboy had ever seen.

“Relax, we’ve almost got the last of the files downloaded.” Ghost eased the antsy male. Y/n grumbled a bit.

There were a few more beats of silence before a blaring alarm sounded, Y/n cringed at the noise. “Relax, huh?”

As a group of enemy soldiers went to run into the building Y/n stood up and opened fire on them to take the heat off the rest of the team and keep them from getting cornered in there.

“Y’all get yer asses out here now!”

Ghost was first out the door, sliding behind a box on the opposite side of the court yard for cover. The others weren’t far behind, but Y/n was on the complete other side of the yard. Trapped between the armed group of terrorists and the sheer drop off.

“Cowboy, how copy?” Price’s voice buzzed in the coms. Y/n ducked back down as a few of the soldiers turned their attention onto him.

Gaz threw out two smoke bombs, offering a bit of cover. Y/n took his chance and darted to another crate a bit farther away, but far to close to the cliff for his own comfort.

“Just peachy.” He hissed, ducking under the onslaught of bullets that rained down onto his crate.

“What the hell is that? Wait—“

“Get down!”

Y/n was able to cover his head just in time as a loud explosion shook the area. The crate he was behind blasted back in to him, shattering and sending his disoriented form flying back.

“Cowboy!” Soap shouted, breaking from his cover, but he was to late to reach his friend.

Y/n grabbed desperately at the edge of the cliff, but it was no use. Task Force 141 was forced to watch in horror as one of their own plummeted into the raging waters below.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Y/n’s eyes opened blearily. His head was pounding and everything was fuzzy, but he forced himself up onto his elbows.

His eyes adjusted a bit and he took in the area around him. The room he was in was quite homey. Beautifully woven tapestries hung on the walls and intricately crafted pottery decorated almost every space. The male was laid out on a woven mat, all of his things sat nearby.

The h/c haired soldier checked his body, cursing when he found the damaged tracker. There was no way his squad would be able to find his location now. Where ever the hell he was.

Heavy footsteps sounded from the hall, and a middle aged man walked into the room. His face was kind and worn with smile lines, and he appeared to be of some sort of Hispanic decent. His smile widened when he saw Y/n was awake.

“Ah! My friend, we were worried for you. Fishermen found you in river.” The man spoke, his voice heavy yet still welcoming. “I saw the patch on your arm, you are American?”

Cowboy nodded. “Thank you for bringing me into your home, I could never repay such an act of kindness.”

The man shook his head, waving his hands in front of him. “It is you who I could never repay. Your service is the ultimate payment.”

A soft smile graced the southern males lips. “Then perhaps you could answer some questions?”

Y/n explained everything. The terrorists, the explosion, the river. The older man listened intently.

“We were supposed to go to La Ciudad Perdida after we completed our task for extraction in two days, but I don’t even know where I even am.”

At the mention of the city the man, who Y/n had learned to be named Mateo, perked up. “Our fishermen found you not long ago, and the city is not to far. Come, I will see if I can help you.”

At the mention of the slight hope Cowboy was quick to grab what he still had, following Mateo from his rather large home. As they walked out the older man leaned down and whispered something to a young boy who was quick to scurry off.

“My village does not have vehicles like trucks and jeeps, but there may be another way for you to travel.” Mateo spoke. “La Ciudad Perdida his eight miles west of here, a long journey on foot. However…”

The boy from before returned, rounding Mateo’s home with a massive black horse in tow. The horse moved with a sense of elegance and pride to it, like it had complete confidence in every step it took.

Mateo smiled at the beast before turning to Cowboy, who was still watching the stallion in awe.

“Can you ride?”

Cowboy turned to look at Mateo, eyes shining like new born stars. “I have my whole life.”

The older gentleman smiled. “Good. Than Guerrero will be your mount. He his unflinching at the sound of gunfire, he shall run for you bravely.”

“Warrior…” Y/n whispered the meaning of the stallions name to himself, stroking the giants forelock. “Mateo, how can I repay you for this?”

He waved the h/c haired male off. “I already tell you, your service pays for it all. Besides, I am wealthy man. I have many horses.” The old Hispanic’s eyes shined with mischief.

Y/n laughed, clasping Mateo’s hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. “I will not forget this, my friend.”

Y/n pulled himself up into Guerrero’s saddle, taking a moment to adjust his gun and equipment so the weight was more even. With a final wave to Mateo, Y/n rode off into the direction of La Ciudad Perdida.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Y/n did is best to keep Guerrero at a trot the whole ride. As much as he wanted to get there as fast as he could he had no idea what kind off situation he would be riding into, and he wanted both him and the stallion to have plenty of energy when they did arrive.

“You know, I always used to imagine doing this.” Cowboy chuckled to nobody but himself and the dark horse. “Riding into battle on a horse. Maybe it seemed silly, but I always thought that would be so badass.”

Guerrero snorted, shaking his head in response. Y/n chuckled, patting the stallion’s neck.

It wasn’t long before the outline of the city became prominent against the horizon. Y/n couldn’t help but smile that they had made it in time.

“Guerrero, I promise to you I’ll have you taken to my ranch back home where you will be treated like a king.” The southern male promised the horse, rubbing his neck. Y/n felt impossibly giddy about the fact he was about to be reunited with his teammates.

Once the city began to take shape the stallions steps paused for a moment, ears forward as he listened intently. It was only a moment before Y/n heard it too. The sound of raging gun fire, it was without a doubt coming from the city.

“That’s not good.” Y/n kicked Guerrero into a gallop. “Hyah!”

The black stallion whinnied, charging towards the city at impossible speeds.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Soap’s back was pressed flush against the truck he was hiding behind, Gaz right next to him as gun fire rained down over their heads.

After watching Y/n disappear into the raging water shit hit the fan. Ghost had went on a rampage, slaughtering every terrorist he could get his hands on.

Gaz had tried to find Cowboy’s location using his tracker, but the thing had obviously been damaged or destroyed in the river. That alone ebbed at Soap’s hope that he’d ever see the male again, but Soap knew better than that.

Cowboy was fighter. He was harder than nails with the kind of spirit that would put even the most wild of animals to shame. Soap knew if anyone could survive it would be him.

But that was counting on the fact that the rest of them would make it out. Whatever was left of the terrorist group had managed to regroup and followed them to their extraction point.

They had been caught unaware, and now all four of them were pinned down, unable to break from the cover long enough to wrap around behind the group.

Ghost cursed as he ducked his head back behind the crate he was using for cover next to where Gaz and Soap were. Price wasn’t far off, hidden behind his own rather large crate.

The most infuriating part about this whole thing is that there were only six terrorists. The task force without a doubt had them outmatched, but they had managed to get the drop on them.

“This is fucking insane. How many rounds could they possibly have.” Gaz cursed as the bullets continued to rain down.

Soap shook his head, reloading his own gun. “I don know, but I’m about sick of this.”

The shooting faltered for a moment, and the terrorists began shouting things Soap couldn’t make out. In the beat of silence a new noise was heard. It sounded like the beat of hooves on pavement, and it had the group leaning a bit to see what it was.

A hulking black mass was speeding down the street of the abandoned city, atop it sat a figure with a assault rifle poised and ready. The four could not believe their eyes as their teammate came charging in, giving a wicked laugh.

“Holy shit, Cowboy!”

“That is some Wild West shit right there.”

Y/n aimed his gun at the group of terrorists, the angle he came in at giving him the perfect opening. His heart thudded with wild adrenaline as he gave a loud war cry, littering their bodies with bullets.

The group didn’t know what had hit them.

Guerrero charged forward bravely, his ear hardly twitching as Y/n rained down hell onto the group. When the last of the terrorists had fallen Soap and Gaz were the first to move from their spots, followed closely by Ghost and Price.

Guerrero slid to a stop and Cowboy leaped from his saddle, Soap enveloping him into one of the tightest hugs he’d ever experienced.

“Ah, you amadan! I knew you’d be alright!” The Scottish man bellowed, grinning from ear to ear as crushed the h/c haired male in a hug.

Gaz was next to reach him, throwing an arm over his shoulders and ruffling Y/n’s hair affectionately.

Y/n ribs felt like they were cracking from their crushing force, but his smile was wide. He was ecstatic to be back among his teammates.

Once Soap reluctantly released the male Price reached up to ruffle his hair for himself, grumbling about Y/n giving him a heart attack.

“Yeah, I suppose I don’t want to give grandpa any more scares.” Y/n teased, giggling as he earned himself a playful slap to the side of the head from his captain.

A large arm wrapped it’s was around Cowboy’s shoulders, giving him a light squeeze. The male looked up, meeting Ghost’s steely gaze.

“Glad you didn’t die.” The masked male said, giving him a pat on the shoulder before letting him go. Y/n smiled, Ghost wasn’t one for public affections, so that alone was equal to Y/n being swept off his feet and praised from the mountain tops.

“Have I got a story for you guys.”

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

“Thanks, Ricky. I really appreciate this man. Alright, talk to you later.” Y/n hung up his phone, pocketing it as he went back to towel drying his hair. Ricky was Y/n’s transport guy. The man in charge of getting Y/n’s horses and live stock from one place to another.

And thanks to Ricky, Guerrero was now on his way to Y/n’s ranch. Where Y/n was sure that the stallion would get the full royal treatment.

Y/n tossed his towel into the hamper, opening the door to his bedroom. Price and Ghost were already there waiting for him.

Price was sitting on Cowboy’s bed, leaned up against the wall and reading a book. He sported a grey T-shirt and pair of loose black joggers, his usual hat sitting on the bed side table.

Ghost was leaned up against the head board, a few pillows stacked behind him for comfort. The masked male wore a black tank top and dark grey sweats, his sleeve of tattoos also on display.

Y/n shuddered a bit, he had a few tattoos of his own. The emblem of his ranch on his left shoulder blade and a few more on his legs, but the sight of Ghost’s sleeve just made his heart flip. He’d have to get one of his own soon.

Cowboy made his way over to his bed, crawling over Ghost to sit closer to the wall. Once he settled against the pillows he huffed, throwing his legs over Price’s lap. The Captain only chuckled, shaking his head before going back to his book. Though, one of his hands stayed resting on the males thigh, his thumb drawing small circles into it.

Before Y/n could get fully situated Ghost reached out, tugging the shorter male in with an arm around his shoulder. Y/n’s head hit Ghost’s chest and he looked up to meet Ghost’s gaze, but the other wasn’t looking at him.

Cowboy knew Ghost needed this. Needed to feel him, needed to hold him, needed to know he was still here. Y/n could only imagine the storm of emotions they had all felt watching him topple over a cliff and disappear into the raging waters.

The southern male hummed a bit, reaching for the remote to get the true crime show pulled up. Now all they were missing was—

The door to Y/n’s room burst open, causing the three to jump a bit as Soap and Gaz tumbled into the room, each holding a bowl of popcorn.

��Alright we’re ready! Sorry it took so long, someone kept burning theirs.” Gaz shot Soap a look, making it clear who the guilty subject was.

Soap stuck his tongue out at Gaz before fumbling his way into the bed. He somehow managed to get between Y/n and the wall, laying his head on the males hard stomach. He gave the country boy a grin, offering him some popcorn which he happily accepted.

Gaz huffed when Soap took the best spot before plopping himself down by Y/n’s leg, resting his head on the thigh that Price wasn’t rubbing circles into.

Now that everyone was settled Y/n started the new episode of the show and everyone soon became engrossed into it.

With all of the bodies piled around and on top of him Y/n’s body was pleasantly warm, he snuggled back a bit into Ghost’s hold at the cozy feeling. Ghost’s eyes cut over to look down at the h/c haired male.

Ghost leaned down a bit, lips brushing the top of Y/n’s head through his mask. He turned back to look at the TV before Y/n could look up at him.

But Y/n didn’t need to look up, a smile crossed his face, he knew. He brought a hand up to rest on Soap’s head, playing with his fluffy Mohawk as he watched the old murder mysteries play across the screen.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Phew, there you go my lovelies! Hopefully this didn’t feel to unrealistic, but I’ve always imagined the riding in on a horse scenario ever since I thought of Cowboy Reader in the military lol

I’m planning on doing a little 4th July special for Cowboy Reader too so be looking out for that!

As always, hope you enjoyed!

- Author~Chan out ✌️

[milliesfishes]

request for modern billy asking you out for the first time !

౨ৎ꣑ৎmodern billy asking you out for the first time౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x billy the kid

It was hotter than the depths of hell.

You fanned yourself with your hand, steps becoming sluggish as you trudged down the dirt road in the direction home. The sun had long set, and you were regretting the course of the night more the further you walked. Mind hazy, you cursed the stupid boy you'd allowed yourself an evening with.

He'd been late. Not hours late, but certainly late, and you were made to look like some sort of fool waiting for him. He hadn't even come to the door- he'd honked the horn of his truck so loud you could have heard it from the moon. Thank goodness your father was in town for the night because he wouldn't have stood for it. Some no-good boy not even bothering to come to the door for his daughter.

Begrudgingly, you'd walked out all dolled up and already questioning whether this was a good idea. The car ride into town hadn't helped matters- it was lengthened due to the remote location of the ranch. He played his awful music at far too high a volume, which you supposed was fine because it meant you could hardly hear him talk. What really irked you was that he didn't ask you a single question. Or tell you that you looked nice.

The date itself was decidedly mediocre. Just more smiling and nodding and pretending to be interested. Surprisingly, annoyance wasn't at the forefront of your emotions, but disappointment surely was. It was rare you accepted the offer of a date, and you'd been sure this boy was different from the others. But no, he'd worn a mask to get through the gates, and now it had melted away.

At least you got a free meal out of it. The restaurant was rather good, and you'd mentally written a note to come back here with a girlfriend sometime. Make some new memories here so your view of this place wasn't tainted by the insufferable man across from you.

You were walking out to the parking lot beside him planning the small talk you'd need to get out of a second meetup when suddenly you felt a hand on your bottom, grazing the border between dress hem and thigh.

That was the final straw.

Now you were walking home, balls of your feet aching from your horribly impractical shoes, sweating like you were three inches from the sun. You stopped for a moment, adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder and taking in a breath. The air was thicker than pudding and you felt like you were inhaling smoke.

Water. You needed water. Squinting into the distance, you wondered if the river was nearby through the line of trees. It was unclear how long you'd been walking, and your phone had died about a half hour back. Tall grass tickled your calves as you lost yourself in a daydream about swallowing an icy glass of clear liquid straight from the Arctic. It only made the bar of your heat tolerance go down.

A sudden drop hit your shoulder and you looked up. The stars were murky, and you sighed, hanging your head. "That's not what I meant by water," you murmured as two more drops fell into your hair. The sound of rain pounding the earth started up, and you huffed, folding your arms around yourself and trudging forward, squinting into the distance.

Everything about tonight was a mistake. It was a mistake to go on a date, a mistake to wear a dress with thin straps that barely went to mid thigh. Your hair was ruined now, hanging on your cheeks in wet strands, and your shoes would be soon because the dirt road was about to turn muddy from the storm. You didn't even want to think about the state of your makeup.

It was an awful mess, all of it, and you once again cursed the stupid boy who'd forced you to take your stupid dignity and drag it through what was now a downpour. At least you weren't sweating as much anymore.

Headlights illuminated your shadow, and you turned around, stepping to the side of the road and wincing at the squelch of your shoes. A truck was blurrily cruising close, sparking hope in your chest. Maybe it was your father coming home from town? The vehicle stopped a few feet away, and you rushed to the window, expecting to see a salt and pepper beard and eyes a little hazy from a drink or two.

Instead, the handsome face of your miles away neighbor greeted you as he reached over the seat to roll the window down, ever present grin like a lighthouse. "Takin' a walk?"

You laughed, instantly at ease even though there was rain dripping down your forehead. Billy had a way about him that made everything else seem small in comparison. He tilted his head. "C'mon, get in. I'll drop you home."

"You sure? I'm kinda wet," you teased, and he chuckled, stretching his hand to open the door for you from the inside, propping it. Slipping in, you quickly rolled the window back up, wet hair falling into your eyes.

Billy's eyes were sparkling as he looked at you, and he used his outstretched hand to brush your hair behind your ear. "You look pretty."

Another giggle passed your lips, and you looked down. "I'm soaked, Billy. There's no way."

"No really." He thumbed your cheek, and you looked at him, unable to help your smile. Once his eyes met yours, you shivered, unsure if it was from the look he was giving you or the rain. Billy immediately shucked off his maroon corduroy jacket, leaving him in a white t-shirt. "Here. You must be freezin'."

Burrowing into it, you sighed, watching him start to get the heater going, turning it all the way up. His brows were drawn together in concentration as he fiddled with the dial, and you couldn't help but find it wholly endearing. Turning back to you, he set a careful hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing soothingly. "Better? You warm enough?"

"Yeah," you promised, smiling sweetly. He chucked you under the chin before taking the car out of park, veering his eyes toward the road.

"So where were you tonight that you didn't need a ride from?" he teased, and you pulled the lapels of his jacket tighter around you, giggling a little.

"I had a date," you confessed, kicking your shoes off and tucking your feet under you on the seat. Billy's truck was old, and it sure hadn't looked as good as it did now when he first got it. You couldn't help but compare it to the one of the boy who took you out tonight. That truck was ridiculously nice, and you could practically smell how much it cost. It had none of the charm of Billy's. "It didn't end well."

He frowned. "He made you walk home?"

"No, I decided to," you sighed, playing with the cuff of his jacket. It was soft and smelled like him- musky pine soap. Something that had snuck into your dreams more often than not. "The date was awful. He came late and his music was terrible and he was just...it was just bad."

"His music was terrible," Billy repeated, brow furrowing again. You found yourself wanting to reach over and smooth the crease. "No Tom Petty?"

"Uh uh."

"Springsteen?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Well goddamn." He sat back, shaking his head. "No wonder you left 'im behind."

Another laugh bubbled up and burst forward. This was always how it was with Billy- lighthearted and uplifting. He always found a way to make you smile, and it always left you with good feelings for hours on end. "Yeah, that was one reason."

Billy clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Whoever he was didn't know what he had, darlin'."

Your lips parted, and you lowered your gaze to your lap, fidgeting with the button of his jacket cuff. Something about the way he said it- the warmth, the ease, as if he'd been waiting to his whole life, sent a steady feeling through you like a river on a calm day. Heart fluttering, you sat up straighter as you caught the familiar sight of your ranch home, sitting nice and cozy below the hill.

Parking the truck, Billy didn't turn the car all the way off, only turning the key a bit so the heat was still running. It was still pouring outside, rain beating the top of the truck. It was a soothing soundtrack, and you were better able to appreciate it when you weren't shivering with miles separating you from home.

Turning to the side, Billy smiled, holding his arms out and lifting his eyebrows. You were dashing into his arms before he could say a word, cozy against his chest. He smoothed your hair, adjusting the collar of his jacket around your neck. "Hi."

"Hi." You pressed your cheek to his collarbone, breathing in comfortably.

He held you like that for a moment, letting the heaters do their job. You swore the truck's system couldn't have been this good when it was brand new. Billy's magic touch made everything better, and not just with you.

After a moment, he murmured. "You wouldn't've left a date for just bad music taste, darlin'." Billy's hand was gliding up and down your back. "What else happened?"

You hadn't planned to tell him. But this spot in his arms caused the whole truth to tumble out of you. How you'd pushed your date's hand away. Called him an asshole. The not-so-nice thing he'd said back. How you'd stormed off with nothing but your standards and your purse. It sounded humiliating out loud, and you bit your cheek when you finished, readying yourself for the backlash.

Billy was silent for a moment. Then he sighed, dropping his nose into your hair. His words were muffled. "You've always been badass, darlin'. 'M proud of you."

If your heart had been fluttering before, now it was thumping double time, spelling something in morse code you were trying desperately to read. You couldn't decipher anything except for what remained, like a slab of marble chipped away to reveal David. You'd never felt this way for any man before. And certainly not for the one you'd started the evening with.

None of them could hold a candle to the man you'd known for years, holding you close his truck to keep you warm after he'd rescued you from a storm. Flickers of memories began to spark in your mind like fireflies.

Seeing him at school for the first time. Sitting in his garage and keeping him company while he messed around under the hood of his truck. Hitching a ride into town and singing 'I'm On Fire' at the top of your lungs. Running errands for your respective ranches and stopping for gas station snacks on the way.

Had it been right in front of you the whole time?

You lifted your head, only to find he was already looking at you. Billy's eyes were like blue magnets, and you could have dove into them, exploring their depths forever. He brushed a stubborn strand of hair from your eyes and thumbed the side of your cheek. "You got all pretty for someone who didn't deserve you."

"I wish it had been for you." The sentence fled your mouth before you could restrain it, and you found yourself a little dazed by the way he was looking at you. An entire universe of stars in his eyes.

Billy cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his touch, flushing red. His smile shone right through it like a sunbeam. "Yeah?"

You bit your lip for a moment, floundering before deciding to embrace it. "Yeah."

The quiet crept around both of you like vines, squeezing tight and pulling you together. Your arms were swathed in his oversized jacket, fidgeting on your thighs. He watched you fondly, lifting his hand to adjust your hair behind your shoulders.

Then, quietly, he said, "I don't wanna take advantage. You've had a tough night."

You shook your head, smiling a little. He was ever the gentleman "You wouldn't be."

His smile. His big bright Billy smile that shone like the sun through a stained glass window. He thumbed at your cheek. "Well then..." His words turned a little shy, and you nearly melted. "Can I take you out sometime?"

Smiling and reaching up, you squeezed his wrist. "Why, Mister Bonney-" he cracked a grin at that. "Tell me about what takin' me out would look like."

Billy sat up, both his hands on your cheeks now. He swiped away any rainwater that trickled from your hair to your face as he spoke. "Well I'd pick you up right on time..."

"Good start," you murmured, and he lifted his eyebrows playfully.

"...and I'd hafta tell you for at least twenty minutes 'bout how pretty you look. And then some." He dipped his chin, searching your eyes. "I'd take you somewhere real nice and we'd play 'Born in the USA' the whole way there 'n sing as loud as we can. We'll start with that and see how the rest goes."

You giggled, lifting your chin and holding his wrists. "Then I accept your offer, Mister Bonney."

He grinned, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, holding his lips there for a second. Your smile was bright, and you felt as though your heart's song was glowing from your eyes as you looked up at him.

Billy released you, touch lingering, and you moved to take his jacket off. He shook his head. "Keep it. Can't have you catchin' a cold before our date."

You practically floated all the way out of his truck through your front door, shutting it and sighing, struck with a certain angel's dart.

Our date!

[captain039]

Wasteland heat (Redone) PT 3

Cooper Howard(The Ghoul) x reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, AOB dynamics, heat, oral F receiving, smut, swearing, fallout stuff, implied cousin incest, virgin reader, drug usage, needles, plus size reader, sexual assault

Previous part <-

It's been about a day now, following Lucy, glancing at your pip boy now and then to see if you're still on the right track. She shared the coordinates with you in case by some horrid accident you get separated. The night was quiet, Lucy sometimes commenting to herself or asking how you were. You couldn't shake the feeling of needing to go back to Filly back to whoever gave off such a scent that made your whole brain short-circuit. You felt like a fool so caught up in it, of course, the surface would have this effect on you, it had its effects on everyone. You stare at the head a little too long, wrapped up in Lucy's blanket, which is now bloodied. You couldn't believe she actually went through with it, you swore she'd never hurt a fly really, but then again he'd already been dead.

"Get some sleep ok? I'll keep watch" She offers you a smile and you hesitate on sleeping you cock your head and pat the blanket that isn't big enough for the two of you, but she smiles and lays down beside you, half on half off the blanket, same as you. 

"Hell of a time up here huh?" She chuckles head turned to you as you look at her. 

"Can say that again" You chuckle a smile finally on your face which makes her beam. You sigh relaxing next to her, shoulder to shoulder as you watch the stars. It's surreal, watching the small twinkle of white dots in a dark sky, listening to the wind occasionally pick up, it was almost peaceful if it weren't for all the horrors everywhere. 

Morning comes and you set off again a little lighter than yesterday, you're less on edge and feeling a little hopeful as you walk by Lucy through the brush. You come alongside a river, it's pristine and blue, well not pristine, your rad meter goes up to 10 and it makes you sad that such a beautiful thing is tainted. 

"It's pretty" You comment and Lucy nods admiring the old worn-down houses in the blue water. You hear a small noise and Lucy places her hand on her gun before you see a small creature by the water, a deer, small and fragile enjoying the greens. 

"Woah" You whisper as Lucy grins and you slowly approach with a small amount of grass in your hands. It seems more intent on sniffing you both which makes you laugh softly and gently pet its soft fur. Your moment of bliss is interrupted, something comes from the water and snatches the deer, its cry making you stumble back. It grabs Lucy next who is closest to the water. You stare in horror at whatever mutated being this is and grab onto Lucy. You kick the creature with your boot before Lucy shoots it and it disappears. 

What the-" Before you can finish it snatches the head off of Lucy's backpack and swims back into the water. 

"No!" You follow Lucy as you chase the thing down the river, her tracker beeping its location, you get to a jetty before you can follow it anymore.

"What?" You mutter unsure of what just happened and how your one chance just got stolen by a mutant. You don't hear him, but you feel him instantly, hand on your neck, gun to your head and a hard warm body near yours, scent filling your nose, alpha.

"Lucy-" Is all you manage as she turns around wide eyed and the gun cocks. 

"Sir-" She holds her hands up as you shallowly breathe. He isn't choking you though, he just holds your throat almost gently, but that's the crazy side of your brain talking. 

"Hello, again, look, please don't shoot-" She doesn't finish interrupted by him.

"Where is it?" He asks and her eyes glance away nervously and his grip tightens. 

"OK! ok I lost it!" She laughs nervously and his grip loosens. 

"Sorry sweetheart" You swear you hear ever so quietly before a hard butt of the gun is punched into the back of your forehead. You cry in pain going to your knees as he points the gun to Lucy instead and holds you by your hair. You have tears in your eyes pain flaring where he hit and now holds, your hands flying to his wrist. 

"Something's got it!" Lucy yells gesturing to the water and he grunts. 

"Gulper got it" He says and you see her frown at the word. You hear a soft whine behind you and try to glance back, you hear the pattering of feet and suddenly the dog is by your side. You feel relief flood you that she didn't die from the man's stab. He hums and lets go of your hair before he's struggling with Lucy and tying her up. The dog by your side licks your face as you try to stand and fail as your world spins. You groan holding the back of your head and feeling wetness you bring your hand back in front of you, redness coating it, you gulp a bit thinking you might be sick. 

"Sir, please stop!" You hear Lucy yell and it makes your head pound as you watch her get tied with rope, an anchor attached to her. 

"Stop" You barely get out going to stand but his gun points to you. 

"Stay there" His voice has this tone and every fibre in your being practically whines and submits to it. You fight an inward battle as he ties Lucy to the winch mechanism. He forces her to submerge, her body just on the surface and all you can do is whimper. He pulls her up and she coughs and gasps for breaths. 

"Sir, Torture is wrong!" She yells and he hums. 

"You know I read about it once, Torture, in one of them newspaper studies" He lowers her back into the water glancing at you briefly before bringing her back up. 

"You're right it is wrong and it doesn't do shit, but I ain't torturing you, you're bait," He says finale and lowers her back in, going to the edge and whistling. The noise feels like electric shots through your brain and you lower your head curling in on yourself, still on your knees. You hate how you can't move, hate the pointed look he gives you when you try too. You see Lucy start thrashing and panic rises in you, something jolts the rope and you see him start to pull her up only for the mechanism to stick. 

"Damn it" He mutters and pulls the beam over pulling her and this 'Gulper' out. The dog starts barking and Lucy is yelling while the man stabs the creature. Lucy manages to free herself of the ropes, the Gulper going for her boot instead, you move now finding yourself ignoring the command he gave and grabbing her. You tug her as she whacks the creature over the head with some bags. It winces and returns to the water while you drag Lucy to safety. She pants loudly, hands gripping your shoulders before she gently cradles your head, seeing the blood. 

"Mother fucker!" You hear before his gun is cocked to you both again. 

"What! I wasn't going to let you use me as bait and get eaten! The golden rule" She yells at the alpha. 

"Golden rule?" He questions. 

"Do unto them with you want done unto you!" She huffs out a breath.

You hear him mumble to himself before he growls, grabs a rope and snags it around Lucy's neck. 

"Stop!" You yell before he's got the rope going around your neck also. 

“Wastelands got its own golden rule” he snaps.

“What?” Lucy huffs out.

“Thou shall get distracted by bullshit every time”

"Move" He growls at you both, soon enough he's dragging you both across the wasteland. 

Next part ->

[bellygunnr]

Broken Out of Time

A commission piece for @bloodgulchblog -- a Pilot/Chief fluff piece. This was really fun to write.

----

"Joy."

John sinks down into a crouch, hunkering further down behind the worn boulders they'd been using for cover. The elements of his HUD jitter as Joyeuse shifts attention, which he also feels in the connection between his NI and armor, which some part of him translates into fingers trying to tickle his neck. It's uncomfortable.

"Joyeuse," he says, firm. "Where'd Esparza go?"

She makes a humming sound. John takes stock of their surroundings while she plays nice with components of his armor, cycling through the various scanning functions to locate their wayward civilian.

"I thought you were watching him," she replies-- with enough grace to sound slightly abashed and guilty.

He grunts and detaches his pistol from the magclamps on his thigh.

"And I thought we were watching the birds," he returns evenly.

They were watching the birds, to be fair. Zeta Halo differed from his previous experiences on Forerunner structures in that it had a functioning… ecosystem… of sorts. With the remaining UNSC forces securing a tight foothold, he'd felt he could start relaxing his stranglehold on procedure and start-- something. Appreciating things. As it turns out, false suns feel just as warm as real ones.

"It's a little disconcerting to see birds use brass shells for mating displays," Joyeuse says. "Fernando doesn't have any proper IFF markers. I don't know…"

And he'd-- what? Relaxed enough to let a civilian sneak off into unknown territory and get himself lost? He twists around, staring intensely at his surroundings, waiting for details to seep out of the long grass and compacted dirt, like remnants of Esparza would suddenly make themselves known.

And they did-- eventually. Boot prints. Impressions of knees in the dirt. Headed further away. John carefully follows the tracks and picks his way down the rocks, closer to the thin bubbling creek that coalesces into a river in the distance. Joyeuse casts out another round of scans.

Ah.

John forgoes scaling the remainder of the terrain in favor of dropping down right behind his charge. Or, he would have, if Joyeuse didn't throw out the mental equivalent of an arm across his chest.

He freezes in place. Esparza lays prone in the grass. She highlights a handful of silhouettes. Ah.

Esparza must have snuck off to obtain a closer look at a different set of wildlife. Zeta Halo also possessed a number of rodent-like creatures (that the marines and personnel made quick work of eating). He sees them now, dipping their naked heads into the water for a drink.

Briefly, he wonders if the rings are capable of seasons. Then he shunts that thought aside and hunkers down beside Esparza.

"Hello," John intones.

Esparza jumps in his skin and bites his tongue on a yell. John stifles a surge of mixed emotions -- guilt and pride, mostly, with a tinge of amusement.

"Wear a bell," Esparza says, shaking his head.

"You snuck off first."

He blinks at John, expression scrunching up, radiating surprise.

"Guess I did."

John shifts his position in tiny increments. He doesn't want to disturb Esparza, nor does he want to disturb the animals they're watching. But this particular area has even fewer sightlines than the outcropping and it's-- rankling him, might be the word. Yeah, the sergeant uses that word a lot. Now it's in his vocabulary.

Joyeuse's good humor at the phenomena is a burst of sunlight down his spine.

"My house was on a prairie," Esparza says suddenly. "Country home. You know. So we got a lot of critters like that in the evening."

One of the rodents stands upright.

John casts back for a memory, maybe something to relate to Esparza (as he can learn to converse, Cortana would be--), and makes a listening grunt.

"My kid learned pretty quick about the circle of life though," he finishes. "Or…"

He trails off, stymied by the ground shaking seconds before the vibrations sink into the Mjolnir. Two of the rodents bolt off into the grass. The third lunges into the water and paddles determinedly to the other bank. This puts it within throwing distance of them for all of a second before it vanishes into the ground.

Joyeuse had been correct about the burrows, then.

Esparza opens his mouth and snaps it shut as the air around them rapidly shifts. A crimson Banshee roars overhead, followed by an UNSC aircraft.

"Let's move," John says.

He instinctively reaches over to Esparza, but his charge is already on his feet and retreating. More guilt and pride assaults him but he stuffs it down in favor of hurrying back to the Warthog on which they came. Joyeuse automatically switches over to friendly radio chatter and yeah-- that's contact.

Banished making a move on the local FOB.

"Can never catch a break, can we, big guy?" Esparza laughs.

John waits excruciating seconds for Esparza to buckle in before flooring it.

No, they can't. But the lulls are nice while they last. He thinks Esparza understands when their hands overlap on the shifter.

[wraith-caller]

This is the cloth garb:

It is worn by two player model characters and no enemies. Those characters are Devin(D, Beholder of Death), and the dead person we find by Darian(D, Hunter of the Dead). You can get the set from a chest in Murkwater Cave, and off a corpse in Leyndell.

The current item description is sparse, just mentioning it's a commonly worn item made of rough cloth. There is a hood that completes the set, which is a thorn-wrapped mantle, seen on the dead body by Darian. The item description explains that the hood is put on those who have committed lesser crimes.

HOWEVER...

In the 1.0 text, this set has a very different description:

Clothing made of coarse material. Garb of spurned Tarnished who were forced into slavery in the Lands Between. The Tarnished have been wandering into the Lands Between from beyond the Sea of Fog in dribs and drabs since times of old. Most are killed on arrival, but the few, unlucky survivors are taken as slaves.

Intriguing. Let's explore some things about that.

So first is this idea of Tarnished being made into slaves, which appears to have been done away. After all, the Tarnished we meet are all kinda doing their own thing, free to pledge allegiance to whoever, and some, like Gideon, hold such an esteemed position of authority so as to have a squad of goons at their disposal for casually massacring villages. The other piece of this description is still accurate enough - Tarnished are targeted by multiple factions, and treated like crap basically everywhere they go.

So let's hold on to the idea that Tarnished were enslaved. Devin's attire would mark him as one, which isn't all that surprising given he and his brother were pariahs among pariahs. We know the Golden Order was the only institution not to revile them, based on the Inseparable sword description. The JP text for that same sword gives a more interesting flavor to that text, saying:

The Undivided Twins served the Golden Rule for no other reason than because they were not branded as cursed.

This is interesting because it omits any references to taking solace in the Order. The "for no other reason" bit is also noteable. It carries an implication that the lack of persecution is the primary force driving them to serve the Order. It makes sense. If you were hated by everyone else, you'd go with the one group who took you no matter what else they're up to, and you'd fight tooth and nail for them to last. Otherwise, what's standing between you and being completely shunned and ostracized again?

If we're to continue on with the 1.0 text for the cloth garb and its references to Tarnished made slaves, Devin wearing that set gives a new context to the phrasing of "the undivided twins served the Golden Order." Could the twins have originally been intended to be slaves of the Order? Devin's location in combination with his potential status as a slave is noteworthy because, aside from the Misbegotten of Castle Morne, there is one other named group of slaves, and they have a heavy presence in Nokron. The Fallen Hawk Soldiers were a band of slaves who were ordered to search the Eternal Cities. They became lost there, condemned to remain below the earth after burning the bones of their fellows and discovering the ghost flame.

These guys aren't just in the same city as Devin. They are right by him, in the Siofra Aqueduct itself, just where Devin sleeps. There is also a golden centipede in Siofra River, beside a corpse which gives us the Inverted Hawk Heater Shield, used by Fallen Hawk Soldiers. While I don't intend to suggest that Devin is a part of the Fallen Hawks, I do find these tiny, potential connections interesting as shedding some light on potential routes a character's story could have gone.

[whencyclopedia]

Valley Forge

Valley Forge was the winter encampment of the Continental Army from 19 December 1777 until 18 June 1778, during one of the most difficult winters of the American Revolutionary War (1775-1783). Despite being undersupplied, underfed, and plagued with disease, the Continental Army underwent significant training and reorganization at Valley Forge, emerging as a much more disciplined and effective fighting force.

The Philadelphia Campaign

On 19 December 1777, the exhausted and starving soldiers of the Continental Army staggered into Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, a location about 18 miles (29 km) northwest of Philadelphia at the confluence of the Valley Creek and the Schuylkill River. It had been a long and difficult campaign. Four months earlier, they had raced down from New Jersey to defend the US capital of Philadelphia from the British army, only to be outflanked and defeated at the Battle of Brandywine (11 September). Following their victory, the British captured Philadelphia, which the Second Continental Congress had only just evacuated. The Continental Army regrouped and, on 4 October, retaliated with a surprise attack on a British garrison at the Battle of Germantown. Although the assault initially got off to a good start, a thick fog caused cohesion between American military units to break down, and the attack quickly lost momentum. When the British counterattacked, the undertrained Continental soldiers broke and fled. For the next two months, the two armies nervously maneuvered around one another. Although several bloody skirmishes were fought, neither side was eager to provoke another major battle.

Gradually, the temperatures dropped, and the bitter December winds signaled that it was time to suspend the campaign and enter winter quarters. The British army moved into Philadelphia, where the officers settled into the abandoned homes of the city's Patriot leaders and spent the winter attending lavish dinners, dancing at elegant balls, and courting Loyalist women. The Continental Army, meanwhile, marched to Valley Forge. The spot had been carefully chosen by the American commander-in-chief, General George Washington, for several reasons. First, its proximity to Philadelphia would allow the Americans to keep a close eye on the British army; attempts by the British to raid the surrounding Pennsylvanian countryside or to march for the town of York, the temporary seat of the Continental Congress, could quickly be challenged. Second, an encampment at Valley Forge would be easy to defend. The camp itself was to be situated on a large plateau surrounded by a series of hills and dense forests, creating a sort of natural fortress. Lastly, the location was beneficial because it was close to a supply of fresh water from the Valley Creek and Schuylkill River, and the abundance of nearby trees could easily be cut down for fuel or to build shelters.

Over 11,000 Continental soldiers filed into Valley Forge on that December day, accompanied by 500 women and children. They were certainly a disheveled lot. The many marches and countermarches they had needed to perform in the last several months had worn down their footwear; now, an estimated one out of every three Continental soldiers went entirely without shoes. Additionally, many soldiers lacked adequate coats to protect against the elements, particularly the incessant rain that had been falling all autumn. Many men owned only one shirt, while others did not even have a single shirt at all. It is unsurprising then that many of these exposed soldiers were already ill when they arrived at Valley Forge; out of the 11,000 men that arrived, only 8,200 were fit for duty.

The situation was made worse by a dangerous lack of food. At the beginning of the Valley Forge encampment, the army's commissary only had 25 barrels of flour, a small supply of salt pork, and no other stores of meat or fish. A lack of sufficient food and clothing was fairly typical of the army's supply department, which had often performed below expectations since its founding in 1775, but the chaos of the recent campaign had only made things worse. In its hurried evacuation from Philadelphia, Congress had failed to ensure the army's supply chain would remain unbroken, thereby contributing to the bareness of the army's food and clothing stores. Thus, it was clear from the start that the coming winter would be a challenging one.

Continue reading...

[coffeecoloredpages]

Meet Me Halfway Ch 1 Pt 8

By Wordwyrm on ao3

Professor McGonagall hurried down the length of the table to where Sirius and the other boys sat, stopping behind him and Remus. “Mr. Lupin,” she waited until Remus had twisted around to meet her eye. “I will need to see you in my office before you join the rest of your classmates. Follow me, please.” Remus nodded and swung his legs over the bench, following McGonagall out of the great hall ahead of the rest of the students.

James nudged Sirius from behind, “what could he have done to get in trouble already?” He whispered. “Dunno,” Sirius muttered back, but I ‘spose we can ask him when he gets to the common room. Come on, we’d better hurry before we lose our prefects.”

Sirius, James, and Peter followed the crowds of students exiting the great hall, and quickly located the Gryffindor prefects ahead, joining their housemates as the prefects lead them through the halls. Up moving stairs, through corridors, and finally to what seemed to be a dead end at the end of a hall. There was a large painting of a voluptuous lady on the wall, and she looked down expectantly at the two prefects leading the way. “The password for Gryffindor tower right now is ‘diebus fatalibus.’” The tall girl at the front paused. “Remember it, but do not write it down. We don’t want the other students knowing what our password is. If you forget it, you’ll be stuck out here until someone who does remember it comes along.” With that she turned and faced the painting. “Diebus fatalibus,” she spoke clearly. “Correct,” the woman in the portrait responded, as her frame swung forward, revealing an archway into a warmly lit room behind.

Passing through the arch, Sirius found himself in a large, round room with an inviting fire crackling in a massive fireplace to his left. The room was filled with squashy red couches and armchairs, gold and red pillows littered throughout. His feet sank into the plush red and gold rug which covered most of the worn wooden floor. Across from the archway a set of staircases wound up to the right and left, respectively. The prefects the boys up the right staircase and to their dorm. Sirius gazed around the room that would be his home for the next seven years. The same sort of rug covered the floor here as it did in the common room. Four beds, two against each opposite wall, stood surrounded by red curtains and were covered in what looked like gloriously warm comforters. Sirius spotted his trunk at the end of the second bed on the right, and immediately flopped heavily onto the soft mattress of his bed, sighing contentedly.

“Where’s Remus?” Peter’s squeaky voice asked from the other side of their dorm room. Sirius sat up. “McGonagall wanted to see him in her office. D’ya know what that might be about? You’re friends with him, right?”

“Yeah, but we only met a few weeks ago. He came with me and my mum to go school shopping. Is he in trouble, do you think? Maybe your cousin from the train told on him?”

“Nah, that can’t be it,” Sirius responded. “I’d be there too if that were the case, for punching Snivellus.” He paused for a moment as a thought occurred to him. “How will he find our dorm room? And who will tell him the password? The prefect said the only way to get it was from someone who knows already, he might be stuck outside all night!”

“I’m sure McGonagall will help him get to our common room,” James reassured Sirius, “but I don’t know how he’ll know which dorm room is ours…” A mischievous glint came into James’ eye at this. “Can you two keep a secret?” Sirius and Peter both sat up, curious, and nodded eagerly. James knelt in front of his trunk and pulled out something made of silvery fabric. The way it moved made Sirius think of a river. James shook it out, revealing a large cloak.

“This,” he announced proudly, “is my invisibility cloak. Well, my dad’s cloak technically, but he lent it to me for the school year. Made me promise not to tell my mum too.” Sirius gasped, and came over to take a closer look. “I’ve never seen a real invisibility cloak before. Some of the books in our library at home talk about it, but they're very rare, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” James responded proudly, “this ones been in our family for ages. My dad says he got it from his dad, and so on. Look,” he swung the cloak onto his shoulders. The fabric shimmered briefly, but as it settled James’ body disappeared, giving the illusion of his head floating unattached. James laughed at the shocked faces of his friends. “With this we can wait outside the portrait without getting caught and make sure Remus doesn’t get stuck outside. There’s plenty of room under it for the three of us.”

Peter looked unconvinced. “But the professors might be able to sense us still, right? I don’t want to get in trouble on my first day.”

“Don’t worry, Petey,” James reassured. “My dad used this loads when he was here, and nobody ever caught him, not even ol’ Dumbledore!” Peter still looked unconvinced, but nodded and joined Sirius and James under the cloak. Together, the three boys shuffled carefully out of their dorm, down the stairs, and through the portrait hole.

They didn’t have long to wait. From around the corner they heard Professor McGonagall’s stern voice. “Go down this hall and through the portrait hole. The password, I believe, is ‘diebus fatalibus.’ Your dorm will be up the right hand stairwell. Goodnight, Mr. Lupin.”

(this is only a small bit of my fic, read more on AO3 username Wordwyrm)

[joyburble]

The mourning suit. This is the costume that instantly made me go "WHAT? oh, no" Because look at it. It looks like it's made of wool. This is the moment it appears, half way through episode 33. What.

There's no embellishment, no shine of any kind, no transparency unless it's backlit. I can't tell what the material really is, but it looks like a fine dark grey wool with a subtle richness of shade in the weave, and a sort of crepe edging (which the sleeves also have).

That seam along the top of the shoulder is surprising: visible seams hardly happen in his other costumes, except when they're revealed by patterns, and specifically not there.

None of these high-necked, imperious undershirts. No glitter. No train. No storm-clouds of gauze, no explosions of gold, no river of velvet in five shades of honey, no roots of the forest, no flames, not even the black satin or the silver moonscapes he wore in the human realm. Just a leather belt on top and skin underneath. Not even a buckle.

The total effect of he way the sleeves hang, the textures, and the composition of the shot above, is to make him look tiny in relation to Shangque. Our eyes are invited to abandon the delusion that he is tall or imposing, and recognise the body of a dancer.

The headpiece points down more than up, and hardly even shines. It could be jet, and you can hardly see it from the front, it just makes absurd little antennae above the ears.

It's ankle-length, and there's no train at all; the shape is relatively practical, like the hunting dress, or like Shangque's outfit.

Of all the costumes, I think this has two other outstanding, and contradictory, properties:

it's the one that can only be created instantaneously out of the fabric of fantasy spacetime by the character's state of mind. In the previous scene, in the same location, he was still wearing the Fire Gown. What purpose or occasion could possibly explain this having ever been made for him? It's intentionally unclear how either clothes or bodies are supposed to work in-universe, but can you imagine this sitting in a sandalwood chest in Moon Palace waiting to be magically summoned? It's a nope from me.

It's the one that's most explicit about someone having made it. There's a visible shoulder seam, and another that joins the sleeve.

This outfit is an extreme contrast of visual texture with every other thing the character has worn, up to this moment.

And, to my Western eye, the colour and unadorned texture, not to mention the lapels, bring an association of ideas which I will call on the art historian Anne Hollander to explain. She's writing about the genesis of the modern Western suit, about 1810:

"Formerly the play of light on rich and glinting textures had seemed to endow the gentleman with the play of aristocratic sensibility, and made him an appropriate vessel for exquisite courtesy, schooled wit, and refined arrogance without having to reveal the true fibre and calibre of his individual soul any more than that of his body. ... ... Brocade and embroidery had once indicated the generic superiority even of quite inferior individuals, and had displayed the beauty of the costume, not the man. Careful fit witout adornment, on the other hand, emphasizes the unique grace of the individual body - indeed creates it, in the highest tailoring tradition. The man's rank, or even his deeds, are irrelevant to the fine cut of his plain coat; only his personal qualities are shown to matter. ... ... The perfect man, as conceived by English tailors, was part English country gentleman, part innocent natural Adam, and part naked Apollo the creator and destroyer ... expressed not in bronze or marble but in natural wool, linen, and leather, wearing an easy skin as perfect as the silky pelt of the ideal hound or horse, lion or panther."

Anne Hollander, Sex and Suits, pp 90-91

As a visual comparison, here are three actual suits being worn in masterly fashion by (l to r) Tony Leung, Wang Yibo, and Eric Wang in the trailer for Hidden Blade (2023), which happens to be on my dash:

You see Hollander's point about the panther, right?

I also think it's a great illustration of another point she makes: the similarity of these three different suits focuses your attention on how different these three men really look. But that's another story.

I should spell out here that it's possible, and likely, that my association of ideas here was mostly a coincidence based on the very first glimpse, and the mood they were really going for with this costume is nothing more than humility and grief. The concept of a suit is not just texture and colour and visual simplicity: the complicated, multi-layered inner construction that uses the unique structural properties of wool cloth to create that illusion of panther-like simplicity is important, and tailoring is not being used in that way for this costume, at least not visibly. Other costumes have more fit-and-cut going on than this one.

But, either way. The drastic visual contrast is telling us that we are down to business now, the setup is over, it's all unwind from here.

So, I called this the mourning suit, since that's what he's mostly doing in this series of scenes, and I can't resist the opportunity for a pun that goes with the colour scheme.

And I felt like I was being told: now we find out who he really is and what he does when the chips are down. I for one was delighted to see that "who he really is" still includes "hilarious bitch", among other things. Pour one out for Lady Chiedi. Changheng is right there. The grey underlayer has a subtle pattern.

He continues to wear this right through episodes 34 (this beautiful scene where he tries to be a dick and then silently concedes Shangque's point). The dark top layer is split at the sides, which creates this cute fanned-out tail, like a bird.

Shangque is such a good friend.

The breakdown in Ep 35. This was the nearest I could find to a full-length view of this outfit that's close enough to see anything.

It's still with us when a revelation triggers "RTFM: The Comeback" (see this):

In another visually shocking departure from everything we've seen before: there's no long under-sleeve covering the wrists. The big sleeves just fall back as the 'rescue' theme rises in the music.

The goodbye snog. This grey underlayer actually seems to be two layers, which brings this to the usual number of visible layers, it's just that the inner layer hasn't got the high neck we were seeing before, and the top layer goes under the belt rather than over.

The dramatic exit - and I was delighted to see that as well as "the bitchy part" and "the part that Reads The Fucking Manual and compares it with the data", we also still have "the dramatic flouncy part" of his personality.

Minus glitter, dramatic eyeliner, rivers of velvet or clouds of gauze, he's still backing himself to seize the situation by the throat, and I love that for him.

After this, it isn't worn again.

Anyway: the point of this costume is to pack an emotional punch by its contrast to everything else, and it does that very well.

The DFQC costumes master post is here.

[bluemoonperegrine]

WIP Wednesday, Layla edition

Here's the start of the "Layla comes to town" Hallmark by Knight fic! It gets a little rough toward the end, but I'll edit it to something palatable eventually. Gotta finish trashing a Waffle House first.

--------------------

“Deja vu,” Jack said via his mic and the Bluetooth earpiece under Marc’s white cowl and mask. The windscreen Jack had gotten for his mic worked better than Marc had expected. “You too?”

“A little,” Marc replied, gazing at the partially wooded, partially scrubby highlands a thousand feet below them and extending ahead. Nearly a month ago he’d approached this area from the southeast with a mourning Jack wolfed out and howling on his back. A lot had happened, more than seemed possible in three months. Some of it had been bad, but the overwhelming majority was good.

Smiling under the white silk and linen of his mask, Marc squeezed Jack’s arm briefly. “This is a much better reason to be in the middle of nowhere.”

Jack hugged him more tightly in reply. He pointed at the grid of ranches on the plateau just ahead. “That’s Barona Mesa, so that mountain on the other side of the river is Eagle Peak.”

“Got it.” Although they, Layla, and Robin and Bri had the GPS coordinates of the remote location they’d chosen for a meeting place, Marc and Jack preferred to navigate via landmarks. As they’d planned, Marc turned east to follow Boulder Creek along the south flank of Eagle Peak. Boulder Creek Preserve was only a few miles away.

A glint of gold drew their attention as they made a steep descent to the preserve’s dirt parking area. “Is that her?” Jack asked over wind noise. The soundproofing could only do so much.

Marc caught glimpses of his best friend’s dark curls, and gold armor through gaps in a valley oak’s canopy. “Looks like. I think Bri and Robin are there too.”

Jack hopped off Marc’s back when they were 15 feet from the ground. His hiking backpack nearly threw him off balance when he landed in a superhero pose with one hand touching the ground. “Citizens,” he declared, “have no fear! Moon Knight and White Wolf are here!”

Layla, Bri, and Robin stared at Jack as Marc landed and Khonshu’s armor disappeared. Then they all burst out in laughter.

Layla put her hands over her heart, currently protected by Taweret’s gold plate and red and white silk. “Oh, thank heavens!”

Marc threw his arms around his best friend, who returned the bear hug.

“White Wolf?” Bri, the tallest of the group at 5’ 10”, gasped between gales of laughter. Although Marc knew that Robin’s spouse was non-binary—or two-spirit, as the Kumeyaay put it, seeing them in hiking pants and a T-shirt with stubble shadowing their jaw was a bit jarring. The last time they’d gotten together to see their friends’ band perform in the city Bri had gone “full femme,” as Jack put it. With their shoulder-length black hair styled and flattering makeup and a dress, Bri and Robin, who’d dressed similarly, were an attractive couple. They still were in practical hiking gear, but in a different way.

No one had harassed Robin and Bri, nor Marc and Jack, who’d worn his kilt that night. Marc had been ready to fight bigots when they inevitably turned up. It hadn’t happened, which was astonishing and encouraging. Marc’s reluctance to wear the kilt Jack had bought for him weakened a little further.

Wiping away tears of laughter, Robin asked Jack, “How are you White Wolf? Your fur is dark!” 

“‘Brown Wolf’ sounds terrible. And besides, Marc’s suit is white.”

Layla giggled as she pulled back and fixed her bright smile on Marc. “It’s been too long!”

“It has! Thanks for coming.”

“My pleasure.” Keeping one arm around Marc’s waist, she shifted to stand beside him. Nodding at Jack, who jumped back when Robin produced one of Layla’s gold short swords she must have had behind her back, Layla murmured, “Damn, Marc.”

“I know, right?”

Jack looked over his shoulder and gave them a wolfish grin. 

Introductions, Steven nudged.

[wheel-of-fashions]

Chapter 9

"cloaked and coated and carrying his bow. A quiver hung at his waist."

[elliemarchetti]

The Snake and The Wolf

Chapter 1 - Heir

@erisweek2023 I know I'm late and I'm so sorry for it. I really have no excuse, just the hope you'll still be able to include this in day 2's masterlist.

Prologue

Words: 1.298

A cold rain fell uninterrupted for two days straight, causing temperatures to drop on the northern border. Fallen leaves carpeted the streets of the village, and the river was now a silver serpent half hiding in the hanging fog, but Eris knew his informant would show up in time for their appointment. She always did, without exceptions. The meeting point, the blacksmith shop, was located on the easternmost road, the familiar stone walls thick enough to muffle the sound of the hammer hitting the iron and block any excerpt of conversation a passerby could overhear.

“General,” the owner of the business greeted him, rubbing his hands on the leather apron. Each Court boasted of being the possessor of the greatest forging techniques, but Eris, who tried every kind of weapon he could get his hands on, was sincerely convinced of the excellence of the Autumn Court workshops. After all, they were the only ones who controlled fire itself.

“How can we help you?” asked a female voice coming from the inside, her pale face reddened by the heat. She had long dark hair, like many inhabitants of the Night Court, but unlike the angry grunts they always sported, she had a wide smile painted on her full lips, which led people to trust her almost blindly. More often than expected, people considered kindness a sign of harmlessness, but Eris saw its potential even Under the Mountain, and although they were all very busy not to become the entertainment of the evening, he used that period to offer favours and promise protection, thus building an impeccable network of spies scattered through all Court. Beron had even complimented him on his cunning, and to say it didn’t happen often was an understatement. Obviously, he hadn’t braved the elements just in hope of receiving further praise from his father, the approval of the High Lord of Autumn something he no longer aspired to since the first lashes he received as punishment for not being horrible to Lucien, who at the time was little more than an infant. He would’ve reported something to the Small Council, to justify his absence from the Forest House, but they would’ve been half-truths and lies wisely woven to give the impression of knowing more than them. Not too much, though, or the most loyal Lords would’ve started to get suspicious. Honestly, he would’ve sold them all if it had served his purpose, but first he had to take care of a couple of matters, and Anthea sitting on the unstable stool in the shop was his means to solve at least part of them.

“Any news on my brother?” Eris asked as soon as the door closed behind him, trapping the smoke and the smell of sweat inside. As if the two guests hadn’t been present, the blacksmith returned to his chores, and the High Fae poured a glass of coppery liquid for her employer.

“Still far away, unfortunately. A real shame, if you ask me: his tips are much more useful than the change the Illyrians leave me,” she replied, leaning with her elbows on a small table with a worn wooden top.

“I’m not surprised,” Eris muttered, his eyebrows furrowing. He didn’t like the fact that Lucien worked for Rhysand, but if he was in the Courts, Eris was at least able to try to keep him safe, even if he hadn’t been much help the last time his little brother really needed him.

“Besides, those who spend a lot on wine tend to be more useful to me as a spy than as a maid,” the female went on, mischievous.

“Tell me that stupid bat let something slip from his large mouth at Rita’s,” Eris urged, the shadow of a grin spreading across his angular features, “it would brighten my day, and only the Cauldron knows how much it’s needed.”

“Not him,” denied Anthea, dampening his enthusiasm, “but someone very close. The High Lady is pregnant, and the child has wings.”

Eris’s eyes widened in shock. He hadn’t seen Feyre much, but he remembered her narrow hips and thin frame, the figure of someone who grew up malnourished. She wasn’t going to survive the birth, even with the best of healers constantly by her side. He wondered if Lucien knew, if he was ready to lose the girl for whom he betrayed his best friend, but he quickly put the thought aside. His brother was an adult, he made his own choices, and although he suffered too much for Eris’s liking, he also knew how to get back up on his feet, and certainly losing the High Lady wasn’t about to give him the final blow.

“Do they intend to get rid of it?” he asked, cautiously. It wasn’t easy for the Fae, and many would’ve considered it sacrilege, given the difficulty with which new children were born, but it was possible.

Anthea shook her head, clearly disagreeing with the decision.

“I don’t intend to be in the proximity of the High Lord when he loses his other half, and you should make sure that whoever needs to leave the Night Court does it in time, or he may vent his anger with a cruelty we cannot even imagine,” she warned him.

One face immediately sprang to his mind, the elegant high cheekbones and the unwavering determination in her eyes, but she wasn’t the only one in danger of ending up chained somewhere in the Hewn City. Eris knew that the Night Court’s true centre of power wasn’t the place that inspired Amarantha in the construction of her gloomy home, but he suspected that the Shadowsinger conducted his most imaginative interrogations there, in a hole forgotten by the Mother herself.

“It will be done,” Eris agreed, “and you’ll have your place here, where you can choose what life you want to lead, as promised.”

“You haven’t heard the rest yet, though,” she teased him, a light of amusement illuminating her violet eyes. If the heir of a High Lord could’ve afforded to have friends, she certainly would’ve been one.

“The eldest of the sisters brought the myth of the Valkyries back to life along with some priestesses and an Illyrian,” revealed Anthea, and Eris was sure his heart skipped a beat. The Valkyries died because of the Illyrians’ cowardice and he was certain that history would soon repeat itself, with the impending war against a Death-God.

“Do you think that’s a good thing?” Eris asked, trying to push aside his worries.

“It might or might not, it all depends on the girls’ willpower. It could also do good to your brother’s Mate, even if the Spymaster already hangs around her for too much for my taste.”

“I hope there were no accidents,” he replied, serious. Many things could’ve happened if Azriel hadn’t simply been nice to Elain, but that was a possibility he didn’t want to ponder at the moment.

“Is the Morrigan still in Vallahan?” he asked instead, moving on to gathering information that would interest his father.

Anthea nodded: “She’s struggling to find a way to convince them to sign the new treaty.”

Eris almost rolled his eyes. She wasn’t cut out to rule, much less to negotiate or dominate the battlefield, and although what she did had cost him dearly, he was grateful that she’d offered herself to the brute to break their engagement. In time, he would’ve felt nothing but resentment towards her.

“Very good, if that’s all…” Eris began, but before he could get up the female grabbed his wrist.

“They spend many nights together, but everyone sleeps in their own rooms,” she concluded, gravely.

“For now, that’s fine,” he cut short, placing seven gold marks on the table. “I hope that’s enough for you until next time.”

[craftingcreatures]

Welcome to Spero

Exoplanet Ahuizotl 593-d is about 15 light-years from Earth, located in the habitable zone of a yellow dwarf star much like our own. It is a rocky world, with an axial tilt of 7.2 degrees and a diameter of just over 12,000 km. It has a single large moon, somewhat smaller than earth's and very different in origin and composition; this moon is a recently-captured long-period comet, composed mostly of water ice beneath a dark protective layer of organic dust. Ahuizotl 593-d was renamed to Spero (meaning "hope") when it was chosen as a candidate for terraforming and colonization.

Prior to human arrival, Spero was a dead world. Though once tectonically active, it ceased to be so long before humanity arrived, and countless aeons of erosion have ground down the mountain ranges and filled in the ocean basins with sediment. Where once tall mountains stood proudly, small, wind-blasted rocks are all that remain; and where once vast oceans surged, endless fields of sand dunes stand still and lifeless. The only true topography that may be found is the rims of innumerable impact craters, slowly being worn away by the ravages of wind and sand. The largest of these is over 1,000 km across, and is relatively young, at a mere 80 million years old; It has not had time to erode away as completely as some of the other craters, and its eastern rim contains mountains that are much higher than anywhere else on the planet - nearly 3,000 meters high.

The oceans are not completely gone - they are buried, to be certain, but the water still exists deep beneath the sediment. In certain places, scattered across the globe, ancient seawater seeps to the surface, forming saltwater oases - in the depths of the largest crater, these springs seep into the basin to form a permanent lake. However, by far the largest body of water is the Mare Vagus, the so-called "wandering sea": a shallow, hypersaline body of water which travels around Spero's lowlands, propelled by the forces of erosion and deposition. On the windward coast, soft rock and sediment are slowly carved away, only to be re-deposited as sand or silt on the leeward coast; harder rock resists erosion, and may deflect the Mare's trajectory against the wind to the north or south. in this way the seas move across the planet, leaving behind them a trail of salt crystal evaporites that can be seen from space. These bodies of water fuel a small but consistent water cycle - a few freshwater rivers snaking down from the highlands are fed by rainfall.

Despite the bleakness of the landscape, the planet is habitable. The air is breathable, the rivers drinkable, the soil nontoxic, and the sun is almost identical to our own. In a universe where habitable planets are exceedingly rare, Spero is a veritable oasis, and within ten years of the planet's discovery humanity was already putting together a plan for colonization. However, the sheer distance from earth to Spero makes for an imposing barrier; the fastest starships in the human fleet (at 1/6th the speed of light) would have to travel for 95 years to reach it. It would be two hundred and fifty years between the arrival of the first probes and the arrival of humanity on the planet's surface. And humanity did not arrive alone. They brought with them their crops, their livestock - everything needed to prepare a planet for permanent human habitation.

Transporting plants and animals across interstellar space is not an easy feat. Due to the 95-year time gap between launch and arrival, everything living must be either put in cryogenic stasis or maintain a breeding stock on the spaceship for the duration of the flight. Since storage space is a limited resource on ships and carrying that many moving animals, plants, and people (not to mention food and water and life support systems) would be unimaginably expensive, cryostasis was by far the preferred option. For most plants and some animals, this made transport downright easy; simply keep the desiccated seeds or cysts into a low-temperature freezer and thaw them out upon arrival. Thousands of seeds could be transported this way while barely taking up any space at all. Hundreds of species from over 450 different families were brought to Ahuizotl.

Animals, on the other hand, needed a little more consideration. Cryogenic stasis is a complicated affair (though much simpler than transporting moving, breathing animals for 95 years) and requires some specialized equipment. Multiple tanks of liquid nitrogen were needed for every individual animal, plus the metabolic suppressors and the actual stasis chamber itself. For an average-sized human this resulted in a set of equipment which weighed some six hundred pounds and took up almost 2.5 cubic meters of cabin space. For a fully grown cow or camel, the requirements were even more ludicrous.

Fortunately, these huge apparatuses could be shrunken, if the animals themselves were also shrunken. If transported as embryos, with development completed in artificial wombs upon arrival to the planet, each individual animal only took up one-eighth of a cubic meter of space. This was much more reasonable, and so many more individuals could be transported, enough to preserve genetic diversity for multiple species. Even so, space was at a premium, and only 18 species of animal were introduced (three of which could undergo cryptobiosis and were simply chucked in the freezer with the seeds).

Colonization occurred in several waves; the first wave included bacteria, algae, and certain lichens and fungi, and began the process of terraforming by beginning soil production and establishing the foundation of the artificial ecosystem the colonists hoped to create. The second wave included more complex plants, including mosses and ferns, and the first animals - tardigrades, rotifers, and other small creatures which would recycle nutrients. Once these organisms were established and thriving (as determined by robotic probes), the third wave - including the first hardy crop plants, larger invertebrates, and the first fish - arrived. Finally, in the fourth wave, humanity arrived (accompanied by the remaining seed species) to be greeted by a thriving, if taxonomically limited, ecosystem.

~o~O~o~

Seed List

All species introduced to Ahuizotl underwent genetic manipulation and hybridization to increase hardiness and heterozygosity, maximizing chances of successful establishment and survival into the future. Species were chosen based on hardiness, adaptability, and – most importantly – usefulness to humans. The vast majority of plant species introduced were crops, producing food, timber, or other important products such as rubber and medicines. Animals were either livestock, herding animals, or detritivores necessary for healthy soils and nutrient cycling. Pest species were strictly avoided. Thanks to the extended time spent in cryogenic stasis (as well as close inspection and quarantining by scientists prior to freezing), diseases and parasites were almost completely eliminated.

(Plants not included in this list; there are too many to count. If it's reasonably hardy and useful to humans, it's safe to assume it was brought along.)

Domestic Goat ~ Capra hircus Cattle were rejected for colonization due to their size and feed requirements - the productive pastures needed to raise them effectively simple didn't exist. Goats were introduced instead, as they could survive better on the sparse scrubby vegetation which had been established by that point. Goats were introduced for their milk, meat, and leather, and for their ability to survive in harsh environments.

Domestic Sheep ~ Ovis aries Sheep were introduced for meat, milk, and (most importantly) wool. The sheep arriving on Ahuizotl were hybrids between several different wool-producing breeds, mostly of the fine-wooled merino type. Though unable to survive without human care due to the need for periodic shearing, the breeds chosen were very hardy and could survive in harsh climates.

Dromedary Camel ~ Camelus dromedarius Camels were introduced as pack animals and long-distance transport to desert outposts. They were also used for milk production. Camels were chosen based on their hardiness, pre-adapted to the desert climate of Spero as they were; able to survive on very little food or water and carry heavy loads for long distances, they would be invaluable, especially since Spero had no oil or petroleum deposits to produce fuel for motorized vehicles.

Domestic Donkey ~ Equus africanus asinus Horses were considered for colonization as a means of transportation on a world where fuel was a highly limited resource, but were ultimately rejected in favour of donkeys. Donkeys were smaller than horses, but much hardier and required fewer resources. Donkeys were also used extensively for plowing and transportation in pulling carts - they were also significantly easier to handle and more comfortable to ride than camels.

Domestic Dog ~ Canis familiaris Dogs were introduced as herding animals for goats and sheep, much more efficient than robotic substitutes. They had the added bonus of providing companionship to the human settlers (on a planet with a total population of less than 500 spread out over a vast area, loneliness was an ever-present problem). The dogs brought to Spero were all mutts with strong herding dog histories; border collies, blue heelers, and Alsatians were all prominently featured in the pedigrees.

Domestic Pig ~ Sus domesticus Pigs were introduced mostly for their meat, but also for leather, manure, and disposal of organic wastes. They were also introduced for their unique ability to provide organs and tissues useful in medical applications, such as their heart valves. Hardy animals, able to survive on garbage, pigs were well adapted for surviving the turbulent early years of colonization.

Domestic Chicken ~ Gallus domesticus Chickens were introduced for their meat and eggs, and their feathers were also used as a natural fiber for stuffing cushions and other necessary textiles. The chickens introduced were hybrid mixtures most similar to Indian and Polynesian breeds, but also included genes from western breeds such as leghorns, orpingtons, and wyandottes.

Common Carp ~ Cyprinus carpio Fish was a critical nutrient source for the developing world, rich in Omega-3 fatty acids that could not be efficiently produced by plants. Although humanity makes use of many kinds of fish, most species require more advanced ecological environments to thrive. Carp, on the other hand, don’t; and while not typically considered food fish by western cultures their meat is tasty and nutritious. It is their ability to thrive in low-quality environments which made them better choices for colonization than more popular fish.

Flathead Mullet ~ Mugil cephalus Mullets were introduced for many of the same reasons as carp. Adaptable, hardy, and able to survive in a wide range of temperatures and salinities, their diet of algae and bacterial scum allowed them to thrive in Ahuizotl’s estuaries. Unlike carp they congregate in large schools and so can be harvested in large quantities, an invaluable attribute once large numbers of colonists began arriving and expecting to be fed. The mullet introduced to Spero were genetically modified to have a flexible life cycle and a broader tolerance of salinity; they do not need to return to saltwater to breed, though they can still survive there just fine.

European Honeybee ~ Apis mellifera mellifera On earth, bees are of critical importance, pollinating a huge proportion of the crops we rely on to produce our food. Thus, bees were practically guaranteed to be included in the seed list. Not only do they pollinate flowers, but the honey, wax, and other products produced by beehives are valuable commodities. The bees introduced are exclusively from the Western subspecies (A. m. mellifera); this is to prevent aggressive and swarming behaviours exhibited by hybrid bees on earth.

Common Woodlouse ~ Armidillidium vulgare Woodlice were introduced as detritivores, aiding decomposition of excess organic matter and helping to keep soils fertile. This particular species was chosen based on its adaptability and hardiness compared to other woodlouse species, as they can tolerate drier conditions.

Common Earthworm ~ Lumbricus terrestris Earthworms were introduced to aerate the soil and help keep croplands healthy. They also help to remove organic detritus such as fallen leaves and help mix soils, bringing nutrients within reach of plant roots. This species was chosen due to its ability to survive in diverse habitats.

White Rat Springtail ~ Folsomia candida Springtails were chosen as detritivores, recycling organic matter and keeping the soils fertile and healthy. They also serve as extra food for woodlice and earthworms. This particular species was chosen due to the ease of culture and adaptability.

Cherry Shrimp ~ Neocaridina davidi Freshwater shrimp were introduced to help control the growth of bacterial and algal mats in riverine environments, keeping waterways clear. They also serve as a secondary food source for carp. This species was chosen due to its ease of culture.

Ramshorn Snail ~ Planorbarius corneus Like the cherry shrimp, freshwater snails were chosen to help keep down algal growth and keep waterways and rice paddies healthy and productive. They, like the shrimp, also serve as a secondary food source for carp.

Brine Shrimp ~ Artemia franciscana Brine shrimp hold little value to humans, except as a food source for mullet, carp, and other marine species. They were mainly included because, as eggs, they can survive being frozen for long periods of time and so did not require the heavy cryogenic stasis equipment needed for most other animals. During early colonization they were used as a feed for the recently-thawed fish fry, and continued to be eaten by subsequent generations of larval fish.

Rotifer ~ Brachionus plicatilis Like the brine shrimp, the rotifers were included as larval fish food and because they could be transported easily and in large numbers with nothing more than a simple freezer. They were one of the first animals introduced to Ahuizotl, along with tardigrades, and were intended to form the base of a self-sufficient aquatic ecology.

Tardigrade ~ Milnesium tardigradum Tardigrades were chosen as pioneer animals to help create usable soils. They also provide food for larger invertebrates such as snails, isopods, and springtails. Thanks to their ability to withstand low temperatures for long periods of time in a cryptobiotic state, they could be brought in large numbers in a simple freezer.

~o~O~o~

These eighteen species of animals - and hundreds of species of plants - were cultivated to form a self-sufficient ecosystem in the dusty, dry wastes of Spero. Croplands, orchards, and timber plantations were planted along the banks of the rivers; farther from water, scrubby grasses and hardy forage plants grew in the infrequent rainfall. While the vast majority of the planet was still hostile desert, endless sand dunes or bare rock swept clean by the wind, humanity managed to eke out an existence along the narrow inhabitable margins of the rivers.

Until a cataclysmic event destroyed humanity's hope of creating a new home... and simultaneously laid the groundwork for Spero to become a thriving paradise far beyond their wildest dreams.

[zhakyria]

Ben found himself floating above a colorful village surrounded by dense, dark green jungle. He knew this was a dream, and yet it did not feel like his usual dreams nor did it feel like the frequent nightmares that plagued his sleep. There was a calm to this dream, a comfort, an acceptance like he’d never felt before.

He floated closer to the village. It was filled with all manner of people though the most common by far was an alien species he did not recognize. They were similar, in a way, to twi’leks, nautolans, or togruta, sporting several leku-like tendrils, and colorful skin tones decorated with unique patterns, but they had bone and scale-like plates covering their foreheads reminiscent of crowns. He wanted to explore this place, to taste all the different foods he could smell from the various street vendors that lined the main thoroughfare. He floated just above the roofs of the lowest buildings and something within the dream stopped him from getting closer. He grumbled a colorful word he’d heard one of the other students say under his breath.

A shuttle flew low over his head and landed at the small pad located at the far side of the village. It wasn’t a model he recognized, it was painted black and had wings that folded from horizontal into vertical position as it landed, similar to the old Imperial transports.

He drifted closer to that end of the village until he bounced off another invisible barrier. He rolled his eyes and stopped. He watched as two men departed the shuttle. One dressed in all black with a helmet trimmed in silver. He felt familiar to Ben, but darker than anyone he’d ever met. This man walked with a heavy stride, like he wanted people to know he was coming. The people avoided him, flowing around him like water flowing around a stone in the river. Ben couldn’t tell if it was just the man’s presence or a trick of the Force that he was using.

The other man was dressed in a military uniform. Not too dissimilar to those worn by the old Imperials. This man had red hair and pale skin, a stark contract against the black of his uniform. Though Ben could not hear what the two were discussing, he got the impression that the man in uniform was frustrated, annoyed at the man in the helmet, though his gait never faltered from the military precision he moved with. What stuck with Ben the most, however, were the piercing blue-green eyes that watched the crowds around them with cold calculation.

Ben felt a pull to this man he’d never experienced before. It tickled his curiosity. The man felt like a black hole, pulling and devouring everything before him and yet, there was a calmness about him. The type of calmness one only felt in the middle of a mountain forest during the depths of winter. His companion on the other hand felt like a wild monstrous beast stalking the shadows with blood and ash following in his wake. Where one fascinated Ben, the other frightened him.

The scene faded and turned to night. Ben stood at the edge of a clearing. At the center was a crackling campfire. Children sat around it on log benches while an older alien sat before them. His skin pastel yellow skin faded to almost grey, his face wrinkled with years of laughter. Adults of all species stood or sat on the outskirts of the fire’s glow, included the two men from earlier. The helmeted and cloaked man leaned against a tree, he appeared relaxed but there was tension to his shoulders and crossed arms. The other man stood nearby; he fiddled with the cuffs of his uniform and had a thin line to his lips. He glared at his surroundings and pointedly avoided looking at his companion.

The old story teller was speaking and realizing that he could hear and understand the elder, Ben crept closer, taking an empty seat on one of the benches with the other children.

“Long ago, well before the Empire cast it’s shadow over the galaxy, well after the fall of the Sith Empire, a lost son of our world returned. He had never stepped foot upon our soil, his family stolen generations before his time.

“His body bore the marks of many wars and the color had faded from his scales with age. Yet he did not come with weapon in hand. He came to listen and wander the wilds. He spent days out in the jungle, we warned him to respect it, or it would chew him up.” The elder made chomping motions with his hands towards the nearest kids, who squealed and giggled. He smiled. “The lost son would nod and thank us for the warnings. He always returned.

“He spoke little of his past, but even here, untouched and overlooked by Empires and Republics alike we knew him. Few of our kind walk the stars. Fewer still are known to lead the Knights of Ren. To us he was legend, yet when ask who he was, the lost son would only smile sadly and say ‘I’m a lost soul seeking a long forgotten place.’

“We interrogated him: Were you a thief, a marauder, a raider, a warrior, a defender, or protector? For travelers had spoken of the Knights and few agreed on what they were, surely their leader would have the answer.

“’All of that, and more.’ the lost son replied. He never spoke of it again.

“Before he left this world, he gave a message to the Elder of our Village. ‘One seeking the past will arrive here. His coming will herald a great flood of darkness that will leave no world untouched. Aid him. Or be swallowed by Chaos.’”

The elder and the listening children faded away and Ben found himself on a path leading to a carved stone mausoleum somewhere deep in the jungle. It was raining. He stepped closer, his heavy boots squelching the mud beneath their soles. The cemetery was well cared for, but felt ancient. The hairs a the back on his neck stood on end. Shadowy figured watched from the periphery of his vision.

When he reached the mausoleum door, he reached out, not with his bare hand but a gloved one and pushed open the door. Something called to him from within the crypt. Something he needed to find. It tugged at him. He stumbled against the steps. He looked down and his body glad in black robes and armor, thick murky ooze grasping at his legs.

He struggled but it only tightened its grip, yanking him down. He reached out with the Force but felt nothing. The ooze rolled over him; it covered his face, filled his lungs. He cried out but no sound emerged.

Ben jolted awake, his bed sheets twisted and tangled around his body. His heart pounded and he gasped for air. The dream quickly fading as he grasped to remember what he saw before the nightmare took hold, but it was gone. The only thing he remembered were piercing blue-green eyes.

He untangled himself and rolled up into a sitting position. He rubbed his hand across his face and through his damp hair. He sighed. It was going to be another hot and humid summer day. He glanced out his only window to see the warm glow of the sun brightening the horizon.

“Kriff…” He flung what remained of his bedsheets off and bolted to the basin of water to wash up. It was warm, but he didn’t have time to cool it, something he’d only recently learned how to do with the Force.

He was scheduled to help Lena in the kitchens before morning meditation. Normally, he would jog for 15 minutes before hand. It usually helped him meditate, now he’d be lucky to avoid his Uncle’s chastisement for falling asleep during meditation, but nothing compared to being berated by Lena if he burned the porridge again because he dozed off. He pulled his summer robes over his head, snatched up his wooden practice blade, and ran out the door.

[riverdale-retread]

Riverdale S7 E19 (Chapter 136) Golden Age of Television

There are so many things you can say about Riverdale the show that are completely wrong, but one of the most wrong things you can say about it is that it is made in some sort of careless or haphazard way, without due care and consideration.

The penultimate episode of Riverdale the TV Series, which launched in the final years of the most recent Golden Age of Television, and is likely to be one of the last shows to have this full 22 episode, multi-year arc of classical American TV, opens with a wide open outdoor shot of the river, the forest with huge trees, and the sign that looked old fashioned and worn even in an 1950s context which they never changed into 2017.

The picture-perfect shot of the Riverdale-Town-With-Pep sign is transitioned perfectly over to an actual postcard showing a pictorial representation of that sign, stuck to the window of Jughead Jones’ souped up train car. The fact that this person who lives in Riverdale has purchased (or was given?) a postcard of the town sign and put it up on his window as the sole decorative touch when he is IN the town is so funny. Jughead has said that Archie is the spirit of Riverdale in all seasons other than this one (he just isn’t as interested in Archie in this alternative universe) and yet he’s the one that is completely obsessed with what it means to be Riverdale in a way that not even the people running for mayor (who are all of his friends’ moms and dads) have bothered blathering on about.

In the 1950s alternate universe, Jughead Jones has this to say about his location:

“For years, Riverdale had prided itself for being the town with pep - safe, innocent, utopian.”

Alas, but this is not real, apparently because he’s learned about the “darkness that churned beneath Riverdale.”

Life in general is at best a mix of good and bad things happening. There are some eras though that are convinced they are the good times when they are happening, which then provides endless fodder for people to argue with in subsequent generations. The 1950s for the United States is one of those eras.

Possibly in this spirit, Jughead Jones loathes to write meanly about the things that he loves, so our narrator is being a bit indirect when he tries to describe the “churning darkness” but that leads to lying by omission. The Town’s Mayor turned out to be a Soviet Agent hiding a nuclear bomb warhead in his ancestral mines - rather more dire than just merely prejudice and fearmongering, and unrelated to inequality!

See, even now, even after all he knows in the 1950s universe, Jughead doesn’t want to write his town off as the hellhole that it often actually has been! (Look what they did to Ethel! And the man summarily executed in the town square by Sheriff Keller as his skin sloughed off him in layers!).

1950s Jughead is not the insomniac-due-to-homelessness of the other time line Jughead. He’s just a morning person who gets up early enough to get the morning paper, read it, and then start writing while the sun comes streaming in. On the table next to the typewriter is a copy of the Riverdale Register with HIS PHOTO, posing moodily against the big phallus of the palladium bomb. First, this is a very funny photo for the Riverdale to use with the headline PROJECT MOLOCH FOILED! Why not use a photo of the mayor and his soviet spy wife getting arrested or their mug shot or something else? Why use this photo of Jughead Jones? Secondly, the idea that something as major as a world-ending bomb being discovered by two high school kids in abandoned mines in upstate New York getting no New York Times or other major newspaper coverage is pretty funny. What’s even funnier is that maybe it DID get national press coverage but Jughead Jones is so absolutely parochial that he only cares what the Riverdale Register had to say about it. Or! And maybe this is the truth - he only wanted to see himself in this off beat beatnik type of photo on the front page of a paper. Vanity at its most potent!

Because think about this - he’s wearing stripey pajama pants and the patented slutty tank top (in the 1950s these were undershirts, right? So he put on a brassiere for his early morning writing bout) but then remembered to comb his hair and pin (it has to be pinned) his felt crown just so on top of his head before he could sit down to write his commentary about the recent events which showed that Riverdale is not in fact a perfect haven.

Anyway, I am happy that he’s narrating again. I missed Jughead narration.

We cut to Archie who is reading On the Road, in bed, first thing in the morning. Jughead tells us that there’s “some new thinking that is required,” thereby presenting us with this as one of the major indicators of “new thinking.” Except Archie has been trying out experimental artistic writing and reading all season, so this is not in fact new. Jughead of this world simply doesn’t know Archie Andrews very well at all.

At school, Principal Featherhead is packing his personal items into a cardboard box under the watchful (but useless) eye of Sheriff Keller. Jughead, at school well before the rest of the student body, gets to witness the very unhappy and angry Featherhead leave the premises. Featherhead gives him a nasty, I blame you for this! glare. Narration Jughead explains that Featherhead gave an official ‘personal reasons’ explanation for his losing his job, but the real reason was “an anonymous accuser” identifying him as part of “Mayor Blossom’s Soviet Shenanigans.”

Was that Jughead, who made the accusation? Or was it Cheryl?

Featherhead’s boyfriend the Lolita-fetishist comes out to see him take his leave of the premises, then makes sure to give Jughead the same I Blame You For This glare too. These adults do not have any qualms about not treating these kids like they are kids. Jughead has been feeling himself of late - he’s wearing suspenders and a t shirt under his button down shirt.

We cut to Hal and Alice reading out the news. They are looking for another principal! Then we cut to the extremely colorful Cooper house, where Betty is giving her parents maximum disapproval in glares as they work out how they are not going to separate or get divorced but instead will simply live apart on different stories of their house - Hal in the basement, Alice on the second floor where the bedroom is. Betty wants to know why Alice won’t simply divorce Hal.

The simple answer is that Alice loves being on television, and the sexism of newsmedia (which is STILL EXACTLY THE SAME IN 2023) means that there’s no way a woman in her 50s who looks like she’s in her 50s, no matter how gorgeous, would be allowed a head anchor job, for one, and for another, she might simply not be good enough for any other television job not given to her by her husband. This is the simple answer as I say, but Alice is not someone who has a clean relationship to the truth, so in response to Betty’s question she says a lot of other things, all bullshit, about staying together for her daughters, not breaking up the family, blah blah. She does mention the inability to open a bank account again.

Alice says something else, that I find rather terrifying, but Betty isn’t horrified by it. Alice would rather have her cheating troll of a husband live with her in the basement like a literal troll, and sit next to him smiling on their television show, than be alone, because she doesn’t know how to be alone. The music they play is sympathetic, but I feel no sympathy for Alice. There are no excuses - none whatsoever - to the way she treated Ethel from end to end, including that ridiculous offer to ‘adopt’ her. Fuck Alice, and also, fuck everyone who is scared to be alone. You all do the worst shit to other people.

Nana Blossom meanwhile is holding court in front of her two grandchildren. She calls her son “idiot” and her daughter in law “viper,” then prays that they rot in a “Russian gulag for the rest of their miserable lives.” Why would it be a Russian gulag though? Having committed treason, wouldn’t they just be executed in America?

Both of the Blossom children hated their parents as much as their grandmother did.

“From your lips to Moloch’s ears, Nana,” Cheryl says. This is one of my most cherished Cheryl lines ever, right up there with “You’re looking especially Dilfy today, Mr. Andrews.” Julian chimes in to say that he always knew there was something squirrely about his parents. I mean, bless Julian’s wonderful singing voice, but he’s only being like this because he’s pissed that his father brought in Reggie Mantle, no? Cheryl has been put through it - about her sexuality, about her art - by both of her parents who threatened her directly. Julian has had either favored-child or ignored-child status, so it’s quite dark that he hates them so. They both look very psychopathic as they put their indifferent two cents in.

Nana Blossom, who anyone with sense has to admit is the best character on Riverdale bar none, starts to say that it’s up to the three of them now to "ensure that the Blossom rise from the ashes like phoenixes” which scared me for a moment because I thought for sure she was going to suggest Julian and Cheryl fuck each other but she does not. Instead, Cheryl, looking very happy, says she knows just what the first thing to do should be.

The school bell rings, and we see the important kids all seated at the student lounge together, worried for the future, “with Featherhead gone.” The seating configuration is interesting. Counting clockwise from Betty, it’s Veronica, Jughead, Clay perched next to Kevin and touching him with his body, Kevin, then Reggie perched next to Archie and touching HIM with his body, Archie, who is seated as far as possible away from Cheryl while still adjacent, who is next to Toni. The bi-girl Beronica couple are not touching, and the gay-girl Choni couple are also not touching, and I object to all of this.

Jughead is very worried that it might be Dr. Werthers as the replacement. Kevin doesn’t like that idea at all. He’s seconded by Reggie, who says Captain Hook or Godzilla would be a better replacement. That joke lands flat because Archie is really worried they might ask Uncle Fucking Frank ‘to step up.’ Reggie is wearing a black and orange striped shirt and it can’t be a coincidence that Archie’s T shirt has the same orange shade at the neck.

Toni says she knows a great candidate, who will need a boost from the PTA. Betty tells her that Alice is president of the PTA, urging Toni to give Alice another chance at “doing the right thing.” Now that I’m typing this out, it seems telegraphed in the most blatant way - Toni brings it up, and this is supposed to be a redemption opportunity for a white woman - but I truly didn’t glom on to who this candidate might be when I was watching the the first time, because of the strange way that Jughead takes leave of his friends.

Right after Betty says that thing about Alice (“A lot has changed for her”) he jumps up to say he’s going to pay a visit to Dr. Moldy, then significantly nods in general at the silent group before taking off to no fanfare. I also couldn’t tell who this ‘Dr Moldy’ was that he wanted to pay a housecall to.

It turned out to be Dr. Werthers, who is also packing up his things. I mean, it was only fun for him to work at Riverdale HS because his boyfriend ran the place, so of course he’d be leaving now that he’s gone! Jughead doesn’t yet know that gay people exist, maybe, since he hasn’t been in the Grundy writing class nor getting recruited by Clay, so he jumps to the opposite conclusion. “Featherhead is barely out the door and you’re already trying to take his office!?” he says, after groaning, Oh I knew it!

The phrasing of this is so funny - he’s just out of a job, Jughead, not dead, but okay, sure, say it like that.

It turns out Werthers is going “off to do real work, in Washington.” This has Jughead very concerned, so he steps decisively into the room. Werthers is extremely smug, saying he is going to be working on a presidential committee on juvenile delinquency, with a specific focus on the evil of comic books. Jughead sarcastically says “Well Golly!” at him in a nasty way before telling him not to let the door hit him on his way out. Werthers won’t of course let that be the last word: “My tribunal will still be doing the important work of regulating comic books.” Jughead spits out that what that tribunal does is Censorship. Werthers doesn’t skip a beat - he anticipated that Jughead would come barging in here, like this, at this time, so he had a final nasty piece of news ready: The latest issue of Pep Comics that Jughead and his editor submitted for approval has been rejected by the Tribunal. Extremely pleased with himself, Werthers basically tells Jughead that he knows he put this entire comic publisher out of business, and he did it on purpose.

This is the second time in this show that Werthers/Dupont has completely derailed a Jughead Jones creative career endeavor. Oddly powerful, this wizened turkey necked man, isn’t he?

Outside, Archie is working off some steam he built up about literature by shooting hoops in front of Reggie, who tells him “you still got it.” Archie has been so enthused about the On the Road book that he’s committed pieces of it to memory. He has decided to just live out the book - to ride the rails, hit the trails, hop trains, explore the country, sleep under the stars, and write. This has to be a little dig to someone about the relationship that Jughead and Archie tried to have with each other in the other universe. Those two actually did ride (well, walk along) the rails, slept under some stars, and so on. It’s really surreal that Archie is saying this to Reggie, even if this an alternative universe!

Reggie wants to know how Mary is going to take these vagabond wild man writer fantasies. Archie confidently tells him that since he will do these adventurings during summer vacation, nobody can stop him. Meanwhile, I am reminded of that Sylvia Plath journal bit where she is annoyed that she doesn’t really get to have experiences like On the Road, of hopping on a motorcycle and just taking off to ‘rough it’ - not worrying about where she’s going to sleep and if she’ll be safe from, variously, rape, violence, attempted murder, murder. Reggie is all about his ‘best basketball camp’ experience that he’s looking forward to. He shoots a basket casually, making Archie look at him in wonder.

My bitterness about Jughead-Archie not happening aside, the relationship that Reggie the good hearted basketball star has with Archie the small town boy with bohemian writer aspirations is quite sweet. Almost wholesome. (Insert “We could have had a good life” speech from Brokeback Mountain about Jughead-Archie here). IF we’re still positing that all these people are existing in the Angel Tabitha created world which is supposed to solve the problems of all the satan-riddled other Riverdales, the fact that Tabitha thinks that the deep relationship that Jughead had with Archie was fully toxic and in need of eradication is, to say the least, disturbing.

Speaking of Jughead, he has run straight to Veronica, to nurse his wounds about the latest issue of Pep Comics being kiboshed by Werthers. They’re calling it Zip Comics right now. Veronica is in her Movie Usher uniform, because I guess Clay and Kevin haven’t reported into work yet. Jughead speculates that it’s due to “The Comet” story that the latest issue was rejected. He mentions that Tabitha “clued [him] in” last time she was in town. Veronica is upset, because in her opinion that story was wonderful. “It’s so romantic and philosophical,” she says, reminding the audience that this is a story about a comet that hits NYC, with two survivors, a black man and a white woman, who fall in love.

WINK WINK HINT HINT hey because Season 6 of Riverdale ended with a comet hitting a town and obliterating it, ending the lives of a white man in love with a black woman.

In any case, when Jughead makes it clear that he thinks it’s the interracial nature of the couple that got the entire issue killed, Veronica looks a little surprised. Jughead looks concerned in a filial way when he tells her that he hasn’t yet told his publisher the bad news, because it will “crush” Featherstone.

Veronica says that the comic and the story was a masterpiece, adding she thought it would make a great movie. The single page of the comic they show us involves rather tame looking panels of one white man asking another white man if we hadn’t passed through the tail of a comet before, and the other man replying this was a different comet.

Jughead apparently adores the budding movie mogul side of his girlfriend, because he can’t contain his excitement even though he tries to -his eyebrows waggle up then down and back up again, as he starts to smile. He tells Veronica that if SOMEONE wanted to get in touch with DuBois, the original author of the tale, he has “all their information.” He means for Veronica to pursue it! Jughead Jones s7 being the most supportive friend to women who want to make art (Ethel! Veronica!) is a great touch. I’m very for this. Veronica’s face goes from being just wistful (I thought it would make a great movie) to disbelieving (do you think I can do it?) to being scared but excited (Maybe I *can* be the one!) It’s very lovely to watch.

At the Cooper house, Betty and Alice are sitting on the sofa as Toni makes her case from their armchair. When Riverdale High School integrated they shut down three (three??) black high schools, summarily firing all the teachers. Three? THREE all black high schools existed IN Riverdale?

Toni is lying. She has to be. There are definitely not enough black people in Riverdale to sustain a single all black high school, nevermind THREE. Either that, or there is some sort of terrifying deep apartheid going on because no.

But anyway, all three women are wearing belts with the most outlandish buckles of all time. Like, hideous monstrosities. Is this each of their armor, to protect their fragile navels from each other now that they have to discuss race?

Toni says that one really incredible teacher has been driving a cab the past year. I try not to look too closely at the racial history of Riverdale especially as relayed by Toni because of all her bullshit both as a construction and as a person, but she does have one thing right - in talking about race to a white woman, she takes on a quiet, almost pleading, nearly weepy super-soft tone, to prevent a freak out and flight. Even so, Alice still tries to wriggle out of it - She the Good White Person is of course in support of justice in theory, but she does not have the power to wrangle other white people of the PTA.

Betty calls bullshit on that immediately (good for her!) telling her to make it work.

And voila! Alice made it work. “Now is the time for a fresh start.”

Hey it’s Weatherbee! He’s now principal. His speech is about change and new ideas (things that the previous administration was against.) Betty and Veronica are sitting with Jughead, wearing hers and hers similar outfits (tight fitting bodice, flared skirt, bow at the bust) in pink and purple checked patterns.

Weatherbee starts to give an extremely political sounding speech that I would find very confusing coming from a high school principal. “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.” “The challenges are enormous and systemic” he says, adding “Be kind. Be decent. Be better!” Toni leaps to her feet, applauding, which then makes everyone else do the same, though I don’t know what this pseudo Obama first-campaign styling has to do with running a high school. Why is the show making me be like Evelyn Evernever? She is the last last to get to her feet, looking extremely annoyed.

Archie goes to visit the principal to advocate for a “top not teach” - Mrs. Thornton! Weatherbee is all about bringing Mrs Thornton back to work at Riverdale. As he leaves the office, Archie grins maniacally to himself about this.

Part of the uh, doing better also includes Cheryl crashing the rehearsal for the cheerleaders. She singsongs, “Hold on to your pom poms my beloved paper shakers, because I’m ba~~~~ck!” I wish I had her confidence. Evelyn has all the girls lined up in a rigid grid. She tells Cheryl that she isn’t invited to the “private practice of the Vixens” because Cheryl is the “has been daughter of Russian spies.” Cheryl says she’s launching a coup because Weatherbee is “ushering in a new era.”

This is just like Kyle’s dad from South Park screaming Obama~ in the streets of their town causing mayhem after the election because that one change was supposed to fix literally everything all at once.

In any case, Cheryl challenges Evelyn to a dance off. “Winner takes all.” Evelyn refuses, but she doesn’t issue the refusal in a powerful way. She stammers a little, which then allows Cheryl to insist that refusal is not an option.

We get a final (sob) Cheryl Blossom cheerleading dance-off routine, ending in slow motion splits, with lots of little skippety hoppity steps and rather muted whooshing sound effects. I really can’t tell anything about cheerleading technique (repeat viewings of Stick It and Bring It On notwithstanding). At one point Cheryl drops the pompoms altogether to freestyle before retrieving them in a basic crouch. She has great chaine turns and flexibility.

However - What does having solid ballet training and the ability to do a solo dance have to do with cheerleading? When will the cheerleaders ever have to do chaine turns like this or be allowed to kick their ankles up to their ears in conservative 1955? Why is it necessary for the captain of the cheerleading squad to be able to do an impromptu dance? Furthermore, Cheryl’s dance-off proposal is patently unfair. It tests for improv skills that are not necessary in cheerleading, where coordinated movement with other cheerleaders is more important, plus Cheryl had time to pick the music, create the choreography and practice the thing before ambushing Evelyn with this whole set up, whereas Evelyn has presumably been busy actually running the squad and teaching them to stand in straight lines (this is, by the way, no small skill - ballet companies as great as the New York City Ballet consistently suck at getting professional ballet dancers to stand in straight lines to move in unison).

Cheryl inevitably wins but sheer charisma and starpower here, but I am (once again, sigh) full of sympathy for Evelyn here. Evelyn just freaks out, screaming, and then leaves the rehearsal. I have this weird amount of faith that she was a better squad leader, that the caliber (?!?) of cheerleading under Evelyn must have been superior to the self-aggrandizing that my beloved Cheryl Blossom can’t help but engage in.

Case in point - Cheryl grandiosely announces that this is a ‘new era for the Vixens’ but then only talks about herself. She comes out to the group as a lesbian, in order to “live in the light.” Except she issues a dark ultimatum - if anyone has a problem with a very rich lesbian who does great at solo dances leading the cheerleading squad, they can henceforth eject themselves from the squad. Umm team building? I guess??

Another couple outs themselves from within the squad - a white girl and a black girl. So at this point 100% of the black people who ever spoke and are queer can only date white people. That is so strange.

Jughead shows Fieldstone the “rejected for not promoting traditional American values” notice about the latest issue of the comic the two of them put together. Featherstone decides he’s going to publish the issue anyway, “send it out into the world, hope for the best.” He is with Jughead - the reason this issue was rejected was because of the miscegenation in the Comet story.

Fieldstone the editor has a bomb of his own to drop. “There’s not gonna be a next time, kid.” He’s proud of the Comet issue, can’t imagine a better swan song, and will let his business die on a high note. As people always do, in every universe, Fieldstone asks Jughead Jones to write a eulogy (in this case, the last editorial). Fieldstone turns out to have had a heart of gold after all (sort of), enough to give Jughead a heartfelt “It’s been an honor kid” double handed handshake. Jughead looks very moved, and very alert - he’s trying to learn how to let go of something he loved, which is a skill no adult ever really demonstrated how to do. Fieldstone takes an unsentimental look around the place, then says, “Well, it was a beautiful dream while it lasted.”

Speaking of dreams, Betty goes to pick up a special package from the post office. She unwraps it right then and there. It’s the Teenage Mystique, self published! The nice lady at the post office says something generic about how proud her parents must be. Betty doesn’t know how to tell her, No, they aren’t.

Then we catch up with Kevin, who fills me with dread every time I see him this season. Room 309 opens to reveal his dad evidently shirtless (or less, ew) in just a robe. Kevin was being a good son - Audrey (from the Sheriff’s office?) told Kevin his dad wasn’t feeling well, so he brought his father some soup. That’s really sweet.

Unfortunately, this is the exact time with Uncle Fucking Frank decides to come out of the bathroom in just a towel. He tells a ridiculous story about the shower being on the fritz in his room because he is also allegedly staying at the hotel. Why the hell didn’t he just stay in the bathroom if he was going to lie? This is a very Frank Andrews move, isn’t it?

Looking utterly terrified, Sheriff Andrews invites his son into the very red interior of this old man yaoi fucking room. Oh no, is this in the same motel that Twyla prostitutes out of? Christ in heaven SAVE ME.

Kevin looks as horrified as I feel. He can tell these two have been fucking.

At the Cooper’s, Betty shows her mother the self published book. She very much wants Alice to read it, and Alice immediately refuses. Betty begs her to read it - “By getting to know me better, you might get to know yourself better.” Alice refuses to touch the book.

Archie is meanwhile hanging out with Mrs. Thornton, who has been employed lickety split back at the school from which she was fired. She says Geraldine and she have been discussing Archie’s writing, which Mrs. Thornton wants him to continue with. Archie proudly tells her that he is “gonna hit the rails” with the dream of writing a big juicy poem. She wants very much for him to see what the world beyond Riverdale is like.

Veronica approaches Clay to ask him whether he knows The Comet as a story. When he gives a very enthusiastic affirmation, she floats the idea of his writing a screenplay of it for a major motion picture. I really love this about Veronica - when she sells an idea she sells the idea big. I should do this, but I don’t. She’s literally never made a movie but by god it’s gonna be MAJOR, you know? Anyway turns out Clay is one of those prepared people that god smiles down on, because he’s “actually been fiddling with a screenplay version” of this exact story. I am going to take a page out of Clay’s book and say the equivalent of this, because I’ve seen now so many men volunteer for things that are a) way beyond their capacity and b) based on lies along the lines of “I’ve Been Working On That Exact Thing For Years!”

It turns out Veronica actually used Jughead’s contacts and straight up bought the rights. She even has casting in mind (“Sidney Poitier!” they both shout actually). They then immediately decide to work their connection to Josie McCoy to get it rolling. Veronica sets the Cannes premiere 4 or 5 years from now. They embrace, giggling.

Archie comes home to find Reggie sitting disconsolate next to the lilacs. The dates for the basketball camp that Reggie has been so looking forward to will fall right in the middle of a key harvest at his family’s farm. The harvest can’t be skipped - it’s the one month that ensures survival for the rest of the year. “My parents need me,” Reggie says, his voice seizing up with tears. Reggie starts to cry in earnest. So then Archie says something completely amazing: “I’ll take your place on the farm.” He goes on to add that “Whatever else I had planned, it’s not as important as getting you set up for college.” He even gets a little poetic about how farmwork could actually be “exactly what a Beat writer should be doing.”

I’m very moved by this, because 1950s Archie is very kind in a way that the other universe Archie is not. (I mean, I’m a little bit anti-other world Archie because he’s so unpredictably violent. I’ve never forgiven him for smashing up his tv with a baseball bat as his terrified mother screamed in fear. Mary Andrews is useless, I grant you, but this is personal.) Anyway, Archie actually setting aside a personal dream (which is pretty harebrained, honestly) and wanting to commit to provide an actually useful material good for someone else!

Archie mentions the two people who can never been looked at directly on screen in S7 - Archie’s mom and dad - because they made things too complicated about how and why the biracial Reggie who identifies very strongly as a Koraen can exist as an American citizen in 1955. Archie talks about breaking bread with these unseen unseeable parents as though he’s really looking forward to it. Reggie, still getting over crying, tells him it sounds good, and then they embrace.

Archie says he loves Reggie, and Reggie says it right back.

OK so I’m discovering from watching this that I am actually a Jughead/Archie shipper at heart because THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN A STORY WITH JUGHEAD. Why the fuck is Reggie usurping Jughead’s position? I understand that this world has been put together in some ways by Tabitha but in the context of the show, this storyline with the I Love Yous and Archie demonstrating that he is actually the golden hearted person that Jughead has for YEARS wanted him to be - this belongs to Jughead!

Betty wakes up without screaming to find her mom sitting creepily on the edge of her bed in the middle of the night. Alice is upset. She says she’s read the book, “and I’m speechless.” She’s belatedly proud that Betty wrote “a whole book.” Alice is weepy about how she did get to know Betty better and how she got to know all the young girls “so full of thoughts and fears and struggles and dreams” through the book. Alice of course can’t really spend a lot of time thinking about anyone other than herself - so she immediately turns the discovery that girls are not just a problem for her to quash but people in their own right, and sneers at herself about her limited aspirations that were of the limited times she was raised in.

I really resent the ways that this show keeps insisting that I hear Alice’s side of the story. Actually she’s a piece of shit. There is no her-side of the story. Betty is trying really hard anyway, trying to tell her mother both that it’s not too late for her, that she can be happy.

They embrace to stirring music, but I am unstirred.

Instead of worrying about the world ahead for the women who are coming up behind her, or trying to apologize to her daughter or Ethel (I mean really, Ethel is owed), Alice uses this opportunity like all other opportunities to think about how life has not treated HER very fairly, with Betty in full support.

Jughead has hauled the very heavy typewriter all the way to the diner, to type at the booth. This is very funny actually - he lives in a train car, and his favorite place to be outside his home is another converted train car. He’s composing the final letter for the final issue of Zip Comic, put out by Pep Comics. “We here at Pep Comics refuse to kneel to unAmerican censorship.” He’s very haunted by the bonfire of fascism from a few episodes ago. There’s a slowmo insert scene of all the now out of work writers and workers of Pep Comics reading through the final issue together in the office. Fieldstone comes to put a proud and grateful hand on Jughead’s shoulder. Jughead says that even though the final issue is being published without the seal of approval, he still hopes the issue will make it into people’s hands. They show people in the town square publicly reading the final issue. Jughead hopes that the comic will make people think, and help them feel a little less alone. We see Dilton holed up somewhere (is it the bunker? or just his room?) reading by flashlight, looking proud and sad.

Jughead goes to visit the emptied out offices a last time, as he listens to his own final message for the readers of Zip/Pep Comics: “It is easier to tear down than to build up. Try to be a builder, not a destroyer.” Wistfully, he swings the magazine rack, then he wanders into the editor’s office. Fieldstone has left him a little present - a photo of him and Jughead, holding a copy of what must be Jughead’s first issue, looking very grandpa-and-grandson, with the handwritten note that says “Keep Going, Kid.” The message that Jughead explains to his would be readers about W.E.B Debois is that there’s always a possibility of a greater, better future. Jughead is very moved by the gift and the encouragement, looking infinitely sad that it only came at the end of this entire enterprise.

Much like Archie sacrificing something he thought he wanted for pure vanity and personal aspiration to be actually useful in a direct and generous way for someone else breaks him out of a rather bad cycle that his character kept repeating, Jughead being able to see something come to a non-violent end, sort of land the ending, as it were, and then furthermore receive encouragement from a male authority who actually survived his mentorship relationship with Jughead is a huge thing that has happened.

Jughead comes home from the visit to the empty offices to find that Tabitha Tate is sitting in his train car, waiting for him. The music whooshes to let us know that this is the 2023 Tabitha, not the 1955 Tabitha. She’s not wearing her glasses. I also don’t know if 1955 would’ve just barged into someone’s residence like this one has, but in any case, Jughead is immensely pleased to see Tabitha. He gives her a hug, then asks where her glasses are. She’s also managed to haul a TV into his space.

2023 Tabitha lays out the very strange things she has to tell him in a very straightforward way- she’s not the Tabitha traveling with the NAACP. “I’m the Tabitha that you’ve forgotten.” Jughead makes a choked sound if disbelief at this crazy thing she says (which was actually a really good, grounding performance choice. I liked this throat sound a lot.)

Tabitha invites him to sit down in his own armchair. Jughead looks at her askance, but he isn’t sure that this isn’t some sort of joke, so he keeps grinning awkwardly. Then Tabitha switches on the TV, and in full 2017 digital color the show Riverdale starts playing.

Our story’s about a town, Jughead narrator is saying over the drone scan over the town of 2017 Riverdale.

Is this a color television?? Jughead shouts, looking very elated, then he starts to hear what the narrator is saying, “From a distance, it presents itself like so many other small towns.” He recognizes himself, and he does that thing that I think most people do when encountering their recorded sound in an unexpected way: He lowers his own voice, by a lot, to ask “Is that my voice?”

Tabitha is in some sort of rush, because while she’s showing Jughead the first episode of the first season of Riverdale while making a cameo appearance as a pivotal character in the penultimate episode of the final season of Riverdale all she can think to tell him is to “Just absorb.” She says that she will “explain everything” after the absorption.

The Jughead S1 narration is still going on: “The name of our town is Riverdale” and as though in answer, the soundtrack song starts with, “Tell me.” (Oh I see what they did there, lol).

We are watching the TV for a moment from Jughead’s point of view, and he gets sucked into the screen. (Uh, much as I have, for the past several years.)

Cut to later. Jughead looks completely destroyed. His eyes are wet with tears, his shoulders are up around his ears, his hands have no strength. Tabitha pushes a cup of tea at him, prompting him to say something. With his voice shot, Jughead says, “I remember.” Tears fall down his face, and he says, as he looks up at her, “I remember everything.” He is so upset - and honestly, Jughead has a lot to be upset about in the course of Riverdale.

Tabitha either is very impatient and kind of brutal or she has a huge amount of faith in Jughead’s mental resilience because she is relentless in deluging him with very difficult pills to swallow. She has the power to send people back in time, there was the Bailey’s comet, etc. She calls this timeline “dark, and nihilistic, and hopeless” but credits “all of you” with helping making it less so. Meanwhile she was trying to untangle jumbled timelines and shore up the multiverse.

Uh.

OK I need - I need someone to write me a companion book about what the hell she’s talking about. Fic writers, is this in the works? Can I commission one? Fantasy-scifi is not my genre, at all.

Jughead is still crying, but he’s trying to keep up. I kind of wish she’d take a breath and ask him what he’s most upset about, because he’s clearly thinking about whatever it is made him start crying while she’s throwing all this jargon around about the timelines.

He wants to know if he and his cohorts were successful in making this particular timeline less terrible. Very kindly, Tabitha tells him that thanks to their “innate decency” all of the work that they did have “started to reshape this town, this world.” She assures him that things will keep getting better. Still shaky with tears, Jughead gives an appropriately happy response. Then he asks her if she was successful on her crazy sounding mission.

Tabitha says that she gave up trying to untangle the messed up timelines and instead chose to weave each strand (??) into this particular timeline, to make it more stable, “to fortify it.” I think Jughead doesn’t understand what the hell this means any more than I do, but ‘more stable’ and also ‘fortified’ sound like they are good things, so he says, “Great.”

Then, looking very remorseful, Tabitha says that stabilizing this timeline meant that she lost the ability to move anyone back to the original timeline. “I can’t send anyone back to 2023.” Jughead, who had been leaning towards her, rears back, looking betrayed. He wants to know if this means the others “won't remember anything about everything that happened before?”

Are we including the Rivervale storylines into the “everything that happened” part of this?

Tabitha confirms that the other lifetime that Jughead just watched, the one where his life ended in 2023, is closed off to him forever. Jughead continues to look crushed. As a strange sort of consolation, Tabitha instead offers to show all the others what she’s just shown Jughead (uh, Seasons 1-6 of Riverdale the American TV shows) and “they can then decide whether or not they want to remember their other … adventures.” After loading a lot of editorializing meaning into that word, adventures, Tabitha further commentates by adding, “let’s call them.”

There is so much happening. Tabitha the Angel Time-Weaving supernatural person has somehow obtained the ability to watch and to show others the whole of Seasons 1-6 of Riverdale, when she herself was a featured character that grew increasingly important after being introduced in Season 5. And furthermore, Tabitha Tate, the most loving girlfriend Jughead Jones ever had, the one who never hurt him or disappointed him or lied to him, has OPINIONS about all the stuff that people did to themselves and to each other in Seasons 1-4. Jughead is crushed & appalled about being the only one in the 1950s timeline with the dual knowledge of both The Present and The Other Time, but Tabitha already thinks (has thought all along?) that many of the others actually would prefer not to remember.

As he did months ago at the start of this timeline, Jughead gathers a lot of people - a lot more people now actually - to tell them what they have no reason to believe.

This time, because he’s just watched six seasons of Riverdale in one sitting, he is a person of charisma and gravitas who must be taken seriously by everyone who hears what he has to say. Assembled are Cheryl, Toni, Dilton, Fangs, Kevin, Clay, Julian (Julian??? Why is JULIAN here?), Reggie (again, this Reggie doesn’t really have a relationship with this Jughead, but I suppose he came here as Archie’s +1), Archie, Betty and Veronica.

Very somberly, he tells them (some of them a second time in the same school year) about ‘the future’ then adds this additional detail that they now cannot return to their previous lives, but he has a method to help them remember, if they want to keep the memories he’s going to show them.

The reactions are as varied as the disciples reacting to Jesus’ announcement in the Da Vinci painting, only more depressed. Cheryl has legs crossed and is hugging herself defensively. Toni, seated, and Dilton, standing, have their arms crossed. Fangs massaging his forehead. Kevin and Clay, standing and seated with legs the identical width apart have their arms crossed in the You Talk But I Don’t Believe You crossed-arms stance of mental ward orderlies in movies. Julian, as the most competent dancer, is in the most interesting pose - feet, knees, hands, elbows, shoulders are each at a different angle. Standing ramrod straight next to him is Reggie, and this talk is giving him a bit of a migraine. Archie is staring open mouthed at Jughead, while Betty and Veronica look worried.

Jughead continues to speak with his Post Riverdale Bingewatch Charisma, so nobody dares to contradict or even ask questions. He sounds so serious as he says “you know where to find me.”

Betty does a mean-girl gaze-slide towards Archie, except Archie is focusing very hard on Jughead. He seems to be trying to figure out why Jughead is doing this after he more or less threatened him with incarceration in an insane asylum earlier this year and also simultaneously wondering if this whole monologue is some “Howl” type of poem. Anyway, Archie in this world loves two people only, and Betty isn’t one of them so he doesnt care what message she’s trying to convey. Cheryl looks with a ‘What Fresh Hell Is This?’ sort of expression towards Toni, who looks back at her with ‘This is some White BS.’ Veronica, this Jughead’s current girlfriend, appears depressed and looks at no one. Jughead looks keenly towards Veronica to see if she is willing to give him support, but she won’t look back.

So, all alone, as the bearer of a bizarre and unwelcome truth, Jughead leaves the silent room.

Back at his home, Jughead is making what looks to me like a mayonnaise and lettuce sandwich. He wonders if “any of them would take me up on Tabitha’s offer.” And of course, one of them does! It’s Archie, who makes it very clear he didn’t want to be here. “I drew the short straw” he says, before adding that he thinks this insanity that Jughead has been spewing might be good grist for his poetry mill. Oh, so I was wrong. Archie loves *three* people in this world - Fred, Reggie, and Allen Ginsberg.

Jughead takes the whole thing in stride, which may be one of the “dark, nihilistic” things that Tabitha thinks has been fixed through effort - the Jughead of S1-6 would be absolutely crushed to pieces at Archie’s, I Don’t Want To Be Here With You clumsiness. He started to cry when he realized Archie didn’t believe him about the comet and time travel at the start of the season, you know? By the almost end of S7, Jughead no longer makes Archie a priority in any part of his life.

Is this what healing looks like?

I suppose. I mean, it’s one form of healing, but it’s not the one I was hoping for, for Jughead.

At the bunker, where the Riverdale viewing will happen, Jughead thoughtfully leaves out a box of tissues for Archie before he puts the show on for him. “In the future, this is called binge watching” he says, lowkey sardonic, before taking his leave of Archie.

Some time later (I mean it would take at least 13 days if you were watching 9 episodes per day, right? If you increase it to 16 episodes a day it still takes 7.3 day) Jughead and Archie are at the diner, when it’s bright outside, to discuss. Archie looks shell shocked, slumping down in his seat. Jughead looks at him with some warmth. Archie then does what the other Archie also used to do: he talks about himself, first and foremost. He lists all his various roles & jobs first (boxer, prisoner, football player, soldier) before immediately moving on to his perennial other topic of interest, his father. It takes less than a minute for Archie to say “my dad” as the thing he found most meaningful from watching 117 episodes of Riverdale. Jughead’s gaze flattens completely as Archie starts to tear up about his dad, about Fred dying again.

Archie, burdened with grieving double time for two Fred, says he’s not sure what he’s going to tell the others when Jughead, looking at him with very cold eyes, asks him. He doesn’t even care what the others want to know - “I didn’t think I’d ever see my dad again… so I’m glad about that” is all he can say. Archie thinks that Riverdale the show is not to everyone’s taste (“I don’t know if they will want to see what I saw.”.).

Jughead doesn’t disagree, but he wants to help Tabitha do her mission, so he offers to be available to anyone else who wants to see what Archie saw. Archie takes off without a word of farewell.

Later still, on a wholly different day (because he’s wearing a totally different outfit) Jughead is still in that same booth, now reading a comic book. He’s approached by his (ex?) girlfriend Veronica of this timeline and his ex girlfriend of the other timeline, Betty. They are wearing the same shade of purple but in different designs. Veronica looks wary and sad, which makes me think they’ve broken up. They tell him that they’ve heard from Archie (I’m assuming that Archie was too busy weeping about the two Freds to go tell anyone anything, so Bee and Vee went to interrogate him). They want to see what he saw, but together. Jughead takes them to the bunker, where they sit side by side. After putting the show on, he leaves via Veronica’s side of the bunker, but he doesn’t touch her and she doesn’t spare him a glance. Before he leaves for good, he takes a short look first at Veronica then at Betty.

At the line “The name of our town is Riverdale” Betty and Veronica give each other alarmed looks. Is this because they recognize Jughead’s voice by this time and come to realize, Wait, HE is the NARRATOR?

A week or two later, Veronica and Betty have watched all the way to Episode 117, The Night of the Comet, and have come to confront Jughead at the diner. It’s night now. “You could have prepared us a little more for that, Jughead Jones,” Veronica says, dolefully

I mean probably, but also you dumped him a second time and without saying so, Veronica, for one, and for another, how can anyone really prepare someone else for Riverdale? Betty starts crying immediately, thinking about it all. The first thing she says though is “darkness” and immediately I am so bored. I am bored by Betty’s obsession with her personal darkness. All the kids of Riverdale S1-6 had huge problems, so it’s hard to determine who had the roughest, but honestly the one who complains about it the most is Betty, so here we go again.

Betty can barely breathe as she says, “My family!” right after bursting into tears about darkness, while seated next to Veronica Lodge. Whose father was actually a killer and more competent about it than Betty’s father, for one. And also Veronica herself is a killer (of a husband and then that same father) which they just watched. Also Veronica was a conflicted mafioso daughter whose father waged war of various kinds on her boyfriend/obsession Archie Andrews and her childhood male frenemy/ adult colleague type friend Jughead Jones. Betty is so self absorbed and tactless - she’s revealing that she really only watched for her scenes, and took in none of Veronica’s story. She doesn’t say OUR families, OUR fathers - she’s all me me me. Veronica frowns, can’t make eye contact, during all this.

“My father was a killer!!” Betty says, vibrating with grief & outrage which… okay fair, but also? What did I just say? So was Veronica’s! And the entirety of Jughead’s sufferings in S1 came directly from HIS father being a falsely confessed killer! So much of Betty’s externally expressed self-understanding is This Isn’t Supposed to Happen To Me! which is why I remain highly wary of anyone who is a Betty stan. Those people are the scary types of Americans, lemme tell you.

Polly being murdered and coming back to life is the next major thing that Betty of 1950 remembers of the series she just watched, but not that heaven is real, not the bit about Sabrina the Witch and her reanimated Jughead Body boyfriend telling her about the Book of Revelations actually being very relevant to the spiritual realm (Whore of Babylon = Betty etc).

Then Betty looks at Jughead, saying “You and I were together.” Which is the weirdest summary and as tactless as saying “my father was a killer!” to Veronica Lodge. S7 Jughead Jones, because he has zero feelings about Betty Cooper whatsoever, laughs because she’s being a bit ridiculous, quips back, “Yeah, till we weren’t.” And of course, the reason they weren’t is because Betty crushed him at least twice over, but S7 Jughead saw what he saw and doesn’t feel any particular need to advocate for his alternate universe self. Since Betty can’t really come up with something to say about why Bughead is no more that makes her look good, S7 Betty behaves just like the other Betty and abruptly looks away to stop talking.

Veronica jumps in with “I was with Archie,” which I think is an act of aggression of the most passive variety against the whole hideousness of Betty’s self serving and self pitying (to the max!) summary. The immediate next thing she says, “I killed my husband, Chad, AND my father” is more of the same. Like, how to tell the silly self absorbed girl next to you to shut the fuck up without addressing her directly. Veronica properly took in what had happened to her in the other universe, so Jughead looks at her with concern. It also deserves some note that “being with Archie” is said by Veronica with the same level of shellshocked upset as mariticide and patricide.

I guess Veronica and Betty jointly and severally decided that they couldn’t be the only ones clobbered with the trauma-smudged other lives that they led, so the immediate next scene is Jughead doing his bunker presentation, once again (“What you’re about to see is your past, but it’s also your future” delivered in the most doleful tone), this time to Toni, Cheryl, Fangs, Dilton and Reggie.

“Some of it may be disturbing” has to be the understatement of the year.

Then in a cute little wink to the four Asian boys playing two Asian characters switcheroo that has happened with Reggie The Character and Dilton The Character, Jughead specifically tells Reggie 3.0 that “at times, you might not even recognize yourselves.”

Kevin and Julian had no interest in seeing stories of a universe in which Clay and his human corporeal self don’t exist, respectively. I hate Kevin this season so very much (because let me say, tiresomely, again - he’s a misogynist and a manipulator unlike in other seasons) but this is an interestingly loyal choice. It doesn’t make me forgive the shit he pulled on S7 Betty, because I never will, but nevertheless, he earns half a point back from me. And Julian is just practicing good mental health and self preservation. Kudos.

Jughead doesn’t immediately exit the bunker once he turns Riverdale on the tv unlike what he did with Betty in the room (because beating a hasty retreat really was about Betty, right?). He starts to look at everyone as they settle into the story.

A couple weeks after THAT, they all reconvene, now with Angel Tabitha leading the discussion. Everyone looks deeply dissatisfied. “Now you know what your lives were like before the comet.” Because they all look so disgruntled and resentful, Tabitha tries to give them some perspective: “The people you loved, the people you’ve lost…” only to be met with dead silence. Jughead tries to brighten the mood with, “The good. The bad. The bear,” the last one delivered with a knowing glance at Archie. But Archie is still upset, I guess, that Fred Andrews dies in Archie’s teens not one but two alternative universes, so he is in no mood to smile about a pithy quip.

Since they’re getting nowhere with these people, Tabitha swiftly moves on to say an amazing thing: If they’d rather forget their past lives, she can make that happen. She delivers this line with the same level of calm like she’s offering everyone a cup of tea instead of a mind-wipe. Jughead tries to make it so this isn’t terrifyingly ominous by explaining that this is because Tabitha is “an angel” which he seems to conceive of entirely in the Hallmark greeting card/ Sistine Chapel baby angel sort of way. Angel Tabitha finds this adorable because it’s wrong. She’s the type of Catholic Angel sent down to kill the first born of Egypt, you know? The ones that have to tell shepherds and virgins, Do Not Be Afraid when they show up, because when they show up some unhinged shit is about to go down.

The quickest on the uptake is of course, Veronica Lodge. She was the group leader, I suppose, and is now speaking for the group. She announces that as a collective, the main cast of Riverdale opt to NOT remember the vast majority of Riverdale S1-6. The equivalences she lines up are once again very funny: Not Good Times = Serial Killers = Superpowers = Gargoyle King. I mean, Veronica’s superpower was toxicity where she, the person most touch-reliant for stress relief could touch nobody, so for her this is very true.

Angel Tabitha initially disapproves of this request, in a silent, nostril flaring way. Jughead the narrator, the truth teller & observer, immediately interjects, saying “It doesn’t exactly work that way” even though he doesn’t actually know exactly what Tabitha’s powers are or how they function. Tabitha corrects him immediately, that she can do a special (angelic?) kind of brain damage that leaves people with selective memories. She can in fact reshare “only the good memories” because she is merciful and thinks they “deserve at least that much.”

They do?

What follows is really the most unhinged thing ever, because we get the supercut of the “only the good” moments of Riverdale. Apparently. Allegedly. Which are:

-The core four laughing in a diner booth in S1.

-Archie bursting through the banner for the Bulldogs at the football game grinning (with the big where Cheryl hallucinates Jason and runs off crying deleted)

-Veronica zipping Betty into her cheerleader outfit.

-Kevin leading the kids in a sing along during Heathers

-Fred and FP reminiscing about the old days at the diner booth as their boys smile at them and each other (seconds before it got tense about who was going to pay)

-Veronica and Toni hugging and singing at the speakeasy

-Cheryl in a red unitard doing the Stupid Love number (which weirdly cut to Tabitha who was never there looking nostalgic about it)

-Cheryl running into Toni’s arms as she got rescued from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy conversion prison (but then without the ‘bad’ memory of being committed to that institution this upset-looking embrace would make very little sense) (cut to Choni looking very moved about themselves)

-Shirtless Reggie tossing a football at shirtless Archie (the day before Archie is supposed to go to prison) (cut to Julian, who for some reason is present to watch the ‘good moments’ reel making a meaningful face)

-The teenage boy objectification carwash where Veronica is bouncing around (but they failed to raise enough funds at that one) (Archie reaction shot goes here)

-Betty and Alice Cooper at graduation, holding hands and putting their heads together as Jughead forlornly watches his father drive off with his sister to join their mother, abandoning him once again (da fuck? whose happy memory is THIS?)

-The core four in the Jalopy (Archie shirtless and Veronica in a headscarf etc) (again, this Archie’s friends desperately giving him a ‘one nice day’ because he’s on trial for murder)

-The core four at the quarry, jumping into the water (same)

-The reformed Josie & the Pussycats performing, to everyone’s general glee . In that episode when Josie, the only one who achieved her teenage dreams AND became objectively successful came back to tell everyone how much they sucked. This cut is inclusive of the kiss that Archie plants on Kevin’s cheek. (Reaction cut to Clay making the smarmiest face at 50s Kevin, who absolutely refuses to react, sitting there completely stony faced).

-Kevin in full Hedwig regalia planting one on Archie’s lips is shown immediately after, which is weird because Hedwig comes way before the Josie & Pussycats episode. I think that’s because the song that’s playing has the lyrics “Deep in the dark/ Your kiss will thrill me” right this second and whoever edited it (Tabitha? God? Sabrina??) thought they would suit action to the word. (Reaction cut to Archie laughing about it while looking at Betty, who looks only patiently indulgent, while Jughead leans over, smiling, trying to catch Archie’s eye, but fails)

-Kevin-Hedwig again, this time in a 2 header shot with Fangs, singing (This shot DOES get a reaction out of Kevin, who looks not at Clay but at Fangs, but Fangs doesn’t look back)

-All of them tossing their graduation caps in the air (reaction shot to s7 Dilton giving that shot a soft smile, even though his other universe self had died by mutilation well before this point)

-Reggie kissing Veronica at her Speakeasy in silhouette (Reggie looks very pouty about this)

-Veronica kissing Archie in the closet at the spin the bottle party that Cheryl set up (which gets a smile reaction shot from Veronica while Jughead for some reason also looks entranced)

-Betty in her beautiful prom outfit coming down the stairs to Jughead with his corsage looking completely in love (which gets a Betty-and-Archie thoughtful looks reaction)

-Betty cheating on Jughead by kissing Archie because she doesn’t love Jughead anymore in Hedwig (this immediately follows the prom outfit reveal scene and I feel insane) (Reaction cut is Betty and Archie unreservedly pleased with this bit, but also Tabitha looking fond which - I mean that is so crazy making - Tabitha is pleased about the Barchie Cheating Kiss of Hedwig because this set Jughead on the path to his relationship with her, I suppose??) (The lyrics that are playing just as we cut to Tabith are “I fall in love again/As I did then.”

-Tabitha and Jughead kiss at the Diner when she’s his boss and his life is a complete shambles

This last ‘good moments’ bit makes Jughead look over at Tabitha, who is standing in the liminal space between the theater and the hallway, and pursues her as she starts to walk out. He follows her all the way outside, calling for her to ask, “Is this the part where you ghost me??”

She says she doesn’t need to stay to see how “the movie ends” since both of them know how it ends.

Jughead asks her to “stay.” She can’t because there would then be two Tabithas. Apparently other Tabitha can never enter Riverdale while Angel Tabitha is here. Tabitha wrote her other self a really exhausting life story - law school, biz school, civil rights advocate - and one that resolutely DOES NOT have Jughead Jones in it. Even though he’d been watching a whole reel of him kissing Tabitha with his arm around Veronica, Jughead insists that 50s Tabitha and himself never getting together means that Angel Tabitha should stay. (Logic does not compute).

He wants to know if the whole of Jabitha was real - where they had a life together, cohabited (set fire to newspaper publishers etc) and so on. Tabitha passionately insists that “it was all real. It all happened.”

Tabitha sits the two of them down to ask Jughead if he remembers their “epic date” at the end of the world, where they had two kids and grew them up and then yeeted them out of existence to be old together. Actually she doesn’t say that - she says “watched Titanic, ate at Pop’s” and it’s Jughead that says “we had a family.” She says that the time bubble where Jughead had a stable, happy, heteronormative married life with a kind, lovely wife and 2 kids “still exists.” Unfortunately, there is one path forward now from here. Here being 1950s Riverdale alternate universe where the youth of Riverdale collectively decided to give themselves selective amnesia. “And that is a good thing, Jughead, trust me!” Tabitha practically shouts.

See, they do this on tv - put words in the mouth of an unassailable character, to say to a beloved character - when they pull one over the audience. We generally trust Tabitha, and she’s staking her name and honor on this point, so we have to go with her on this one. The thing is, Jughead starts crying immediately - he looks crushed.

After a long moment of silent staring with very very sad eyes, Jughead quips that it’s very sad to him that Tabitha had to die to make all this happen. He’s made the logical leap that Tabitha can’t stay because she isn’t just Angel Tabitha she’s Dead Tabitha.

Tabitha retorts that she didn’t die. She says the comet was taken care of, that it won’t happen now because … reasons. Jughead makes an impatient “Augh!” sound, summing it up with “Classic time paradox” which earns him a ‘Oh, you’ type of headshake from Tabitha. They look sadly at each other until Jughead asks to kiss her goodbye. She agrees. The movie theater marquee says “Angels in the Outfield” is coming soon, which… wasn’t that made in the 80s? Anyway, Tabitha flirtily agrees (“Jughead Jones, You read my mind”). Jughead and Tabitha kiss in glamorous slow motion in front of the brightly lit marquee of the movie theater before Tabitha freezes time again and steps away from Jughead.

Jughead is all alone once again, standing there kissing air. Narrator Jughead intones that she’d given them “the greatest gift of all - our memories, edited for maximum joy. The good ones.”

The thing is, Jughead chose to remember all of it, because of course he would. That’s why I love him. He thinks it his duty as “the unofficial chronicler of their town.”

He goes back to the theater, to watch the deceptive super-reels. There’s Kevin? I think? in a tuxedo and bowtie which I assume has to be from prom (in which they all were forced to watch a traumatizing video that Jellybean made to attack her brother and Betty Cooper with). Jughead says that Betty was another person who opted to remember the dark times rather than just get brainwashed by the supercuts reel. “Betty understood that we are made up of moments of both joy and pain.”

I am taking this to mean that 50s Betty was cured of her very alarming stupidity by watching the smart S1-6 Betty do her thing (Because as deranged as that Betty could be, she was never as abjectly stupid as S7 Betty). 50s Betty is shown standing in front of her mirror in what looks like a blood flecked nightgown (that embroidery is horrible), recalling how her other self used to self-harm by digging her nails into her palms. She cries out of pity for herself, apparently, which doesn’t make me like her any better. There’s a lot to cry about in Riverdale, but I don’t know that THIS is the thing to focus on.

We cut to the diner where Jughead is being served coffee by Pops. Jughead is typing away in his booth. He says this is a “cosmic reshuffling.”

“But the stage was set for the final chapter of our epic saga about the Town With Pep, one that could only be called: Goodbye, Riverdale.” The song that plays as he says “Goodbye, Riverdale” is the opening song to the first episode, the one that goes “Tell me/ That I’m your baby/ And you’ll never leave me.” Jughead looks very sad as he looks down at the words, Goodbye Riverdale.

Who is saying this?? Which Jughead? Does 1950s Jughead have his narrator powers back now that Tabitha has gone? And WHERE has Tabitha gone? I mean up until now it’s really been Tabitha that was the Invisible Hand, right? He’s just been told by Angel Tabitha that there is only one path forward, so why is he calling this the FINAL CHAPTER? How does he know that it’s the final episode of the TV series he’s in? Was this the gift of Tabitha’s final kiss?!?

[spiderh0rse]

freeman's mind notes part 4 e16-20

e16

a vip (self declared)

thinks they should let the aliens eat explosives

the tentacle in the rocket silo is the scariest thing he's ever seen

incorrect Nietzsche quote (deeper sleep fans rise up)

drummers = monsters

thinks Nietzsche could have been in a band once

whistling FOUR. Five????

hang glider fan

rnd would get a big bonus at some point if the military state becomes the reality

finds the zombies worse than online degrees

whistling FIVE. likes Mario.

whistling SIX also Mario, different song

"future wife" duuuude I don't think youre getting a wife

the sewers are not buries treasure location

his ideal mansion will involve visitors being shot as soon as they knock

star wars reference Again

woodshop in high school almost ended in his expulsion

would eat the aliens

e17

has considered spitting on giant machines twice now

wind knocked out of him by the fan to ceiling impact

wasn't expecting to fly today

respects deaths in rocket testing

sad when oxygen isn't oxycodone

likes pushing buttons

wants to level a lawsuit against black mesa

wants to vacation somewhere tropical

wants to ride a sea turtle to menace cruise ships

would name his sea turtle a "nice gender-neutral name" like Flippy or Whiskers

doesn't consider most reptiles dangerous

has always wanted a robot army. the robot coolness strikes again

not good at parkour

grappling hook mentioned Again. he wants one! or a harpoon!

compares himself to a monkey and hates on earth gravity in the same breath

purportedly Not an adrenaline junkie

shaking after crossing the Blast Pit grating jumps.

vaguely implies he's going crazy

I'M BACK IN THE GODDAMN BUILDING AGAIN

SNOT MONSTER moans are what he'll be thinking about tonight

ordering a grappling hook once he's out

e18

would jump extreme heights into water for big splash

fairy-agnostic

He's sun wukong? A monkey god?

simian skills o7

half life mention title drop woooo

"nyyyyeeeeeewww" :D

whistle count SEVEN

admits that stuff here (falling mostly) is scary

"life sucks sober" YOU HAD. TWO SHOTS OF VODKA ON AN EMPTY STOMACH THIS MORNING. admittedly not a ton i retract my objection he's probably got a high tolerance

sometimes goes down the wrong corridor

cuts off a thought to yell "WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE :D"

wants a giant metal spider fortress

the dial....

stresses to a dial that he has a DOCTOR'S DEGREE

e19

compares black mesa to a giant beast

would LOVE a massive tomb. pyramid for him please

"it's me" sick FNAF refe

WHAT ARE THESE NOISES OUT OF YOUR MOUTH.

pain is a constant yes

doesn't consider himself afraid of heights

actually yeah tentacle sounds (loud metal noises) being unpleasant is a consistent trait here. Loud noises bad. (This, beeping of eye scanners, gunshot in the vent)

reel to reel computers..... PUNCH CARDS

BURN BABY BURN

e20

first title card leadup! techno hell room

bad smelllllllll

has made hella strong pillow forts with plaster of paris. pissed his mother off doing so

worn condition grenades are probably not as safe as you hope

he sounds so excited at the idea of going somewhere possibly not terrible

admits if a giant monster that the rocket didn't kill looked all angry at him he'd curl up and cry

bad smell TWO

References his cannonball drop statement from earlier

cons: starving to death alone, pros: could be fun. He does it. Sir. I know he's not okay by now but DUDE PLEASE. STOP WILLINGLY CURLING UP TO DIE

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

shit lung capacity. I've swam further without breathing in more time and been okay. Lllllll

concerned at the green sludge river

cancer mentioned third time

mmmmm radiation,,,,,

liked Austria

turnwheel Used

used to pass people in tube slides as a kid. Would sometimes get wedged in

"nyeeeew"

knees starting to hold up a bit better