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twdmusicboxmystery · 2 years ago

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My Re-Watch of Ghosts, Part 2

So, after I did my re-watch and writeup of Ghosts last week, my fellow theorists had a lot of thoughts. It had been a long time since we were able to have a good, long discussion and riff off one another's insights like this. I've missed it!

@wday:

I love this! I'm going to give you my first thoughts on what my impressions were when I read it. You talked about Carol seeing something that will only make sense later on. TF not understanding what they're getting into, the large gym, possibly finding Beth where she was not expected to be.

Here's what came to my mind. S5e1 No Sanctuary. With Carol basically being unconscious during most of the time she was at Grady I just started thinking as I was reading that a lot of this sounds to me like No Sanctuary. Remember Carol wondered around Terminus and we didn't necessarily see all the places that she could have gone. I've always believed that there was a direct tie between Terminus and Grady. I've personally always thought that the police car was actually coming back from Terminus when Daryl and Carol saw it pass and followed it. That Grady might not have been able to get a hold of Terminus on the radio and sent a couple of officers to go check it out. There was such a buildup for Terminus and then it was over in two episodes. Not likely. More like I'll give you all these hints and clues that you will not understand for many seasons but the signs are all there. Of course I absolutely had to go back and run through the episode quickly. Here's some reminders.

The Walker on the railroad tracks. People always wanted to associate her with Andrea but also thinking that it might be a nod to Beth. The Walker is blonde and has handcuffs she obviously was a prisoner just as we know Beth was at Grady. The walker has a missing eye and her mouth is mostly gone, it just reminded me of See No Evil, Speak No Evil and being a walker Hear No Evil would count as not being able to understand what is being said.

The mention of the red machete we still don't know where it is or who has it.

Crazy tattoo guy.

Abandoned police car?

Big Auditorium, large room whatever you want to call it and Carol with Mary, not a walker but definitely a foreshadowing of Alpha. Two mothers.

Carol finding Rick's watch. The time is 10 minutes after 5. S5e10 is Them. If you read it the other way with the number 2 and 10 you have s2e10, 18 Miles Out.

TF meeting up with Carol when they never expected her to be there. The little talked about Rick, Carol embrace.

Now should we talk about Coda?

Or I guess I should say one of the Coda's. The other one was s5e8 Coda.

3 trees with that strange symbol of a circle with X, cross hair?. This was also one of the tattoos on the crazy tattoo guy face.

No Sanctuary was written by Scott Gimple. The planner and the person who ultimately laid out or oversaw all the hints, clues, Easter eggs of the series.

@galadrieljones:

I was thinking about Morgan earlier today when I had a spare hour and I rewatched that coda to No Sanctuary. We’re on the same wavelength here! I never thought about Grady being hooked up with Terminus. Interesting theory!! If anything, I bet they’d poach ppl off the tracks who were trying to get there. It was like bait. There are codas too all over No Sanctuary. On the cray tattoo guys face and also on the trees. I view the shrine as a massive wheel of fortune, as in the tarot, signaling a huge shift in the narrative, a rebalancing of the scales.

Season 5 brings Grady, Coda. We’ll see another in the coda to I think Conquer…? When Michonne takes her sword back off the wall. There’s a wall hanging that looks just like the wheel of fortune behind her. Then season 6 brings Negan, but also Jadis. 5.10 is the first reset, back to the beginning. Interesting it shows up in No Sanctuary, when we see the coda signs. I was thinking about the coda today, and how WHAWGO is like this weird coda in and of itself. It’s like a time out, in which the rules are explained. Then we go back to the beginning. Speaking of WHAWGO, that brings me to Ghosts. I decided to spend my evening re-watching it based on your brilliant thoughts, @twdmusicboxmystery. I’ll come back tomorrow with those notes.

@Twdmusicboxmystery

Can’t wait to hear your thoughts, @galadrieljones! Loved all your connections, @wdway! I totally agree that a lot of things about Terminus and No Sanctury have yet to be explained and therefore are more than likely part of this. I also always remember that along with the missing scenes around Beth (white cabin, etc) back during filming there was a report of a huge car chase scene, filmed at night I think, right around the Terminus location. Most of the principal players (ie Rick, Michonne, Maggie, etc) were seen filming for it. So, there are definitely more missing scenes from S5 than just the ones surrounding Beth.

@wdway:

In rereading @twdmusicboxmystery's brilliant review of Ghost sparked some new thoughts not only about Grady but of Terminus. All the tracks led to Terminus. We see that as each TF group gets on the tracks and all of the signs gives a map with colored routes emerging at Terminus.

In mentioning how Carol could have come across some things that we did not see in No Sanctuary I started thinking about the railroad terminal itself and how in s11 we are exposed to the working train system. Is that just a coincidence that they would ever so often remind us of Terminus either in the series or during cast interviews. We now know the the train system was used to transport people and products throughout the country under the guidelines of the CRM.

I really am just throwing thoughts out and have no idea where it might led. I put in s5e4 Slabtown this morning to get the shot of Beth at the end of the episode with a white coffee cup very purposely placed in the frame showing us several seasons in advance of the episode Same Boat that Beth is to be connected with coffee. Coffee put in water and heated changes the water rather than the water changing it. Beth at Grady was definitely put in hot water multiple times.

As is typical when I go back to get a shot of something I see something else that catches my attention and I want to share and bring attention to it also. In this case in the same scene just a different angle we see a mysterious case with a lock.

I remember see the case first when Beth brought Edwards his meal of guinea pig, peppers and strawberries things that could have been brought through the train system from other places.

After sharing the guinea pig with Beth, Dawn appears in the doorway calling for help with a new arrival.

We can see behind Dawn and earlier when Beth comes into Edwards office a map on the hall wall above a water fountain. We can make out that it is a map but could it also be a map of the train system?

Dr. Edwards with Beth goes in to check the new arrival and we get a look of the open doorway and the map on the hall wall in the background with Beth standing in the doorway holding the black case with a lock on it. Very intriguing that we only see it quickly and then it disappears.

Just a few reminders of the strange happening of Grady.

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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silkwxtch · 3 months ago

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Edith for 66, 37 and 27 on the fallout ask please?

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK OMG!!!

27. In Fallout 3, Edith is allied with the Brotherhood of Steel. In Fallout New Vegas, she’s on the opposing side with the NCR! In Fallout 4, she’s more Minutemen/Railroad leaning.

37. It’s a tie between her getting extreme radiation poisoning to start the purifier or her getting a good left hook via Caesar’s Displacer glove and losing sight in her right eye because of the ocular trauma.

66. Droopy honey-brown eyes with freckles of gold. Over time, she developed heavy eye bags and crow's feet. After losing her sight, her right eye grew somewhat blurry, mixing gold and brown together.

#oc asks #oc: Edith Payne #Lone Wanderer #Fallout 3 #Fallout New Vegas #Fallout 4 #Courier Six #Companion Oc #LW: Edith Payne #Silk Ramblings

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dmsden · 5 years ago

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Campaign Basics - Filling Up Our Sandbox

Hello, Gentle Readers. In this month’s Campaign Basics, we’re going to look at what we’ve got so far and where we go from here in fleshing out our campaign arc. We’re also going to look at some tricks for allowing player agency while making sure they won’t miss any of the important plot points we want to use to tie into our Angel of Chaos storyline.

So far, we have our setting (the Beyond the Borderlands campaign I created in the Worldbuilding articles in this blog), our homebase town of Oathford, a major adversary (Adziel, the Angel of Chaos), and some themes and adventure seeds. But even before we sit down and have a Session Zero, I want to put together some more ideas for adventures to tempt the PCs.

You see, I love the idea of a Sandbox campaign, where the players just have a huge world to explore, but, since we have a story to tell, we want to make sure that the PCs are rewarded for their choices, but also that they don’t miss the underlying story. To ensure this, I’ve recently been a fan of what I call the “Sandbox with Benefits” approach to adventure creation.

Basically, I create plot elements I want the PCs to encounter. Once I know what the PCs are off to do, I figure out a way to incorporate those story elements into whatever they’re doing. In my current campaign, I knew I wanted the PCs to encounter a rogue Psion named Tarkantus very early, as he was the first layer of things. He would reference the White Lady, a figure who would have a lot of meaning for the campaign later on. But I didn’t want to railroad the PCs into Tarkantus’ lair. Instead, I dangled several plots at them - a caravan-guarding job, a missing farmhand, and a chance to collect rare roots for a local alchemist.

I had a basic link to Tarkantus for each of these plots. If they’d taken the caravan job, they would’ve been attacked by bandits in Tarkantus’ employ, and following their trail would’ve led them to him. If they looked into the missing farmhand, he had been kidnapped by Tarkantus’ minions, and looking for him would’ve led to the encounter. If they had sought out the roots, they would’ve found themselves in competition with Takantus’ minions, who were also trying to collect the rare resource. You get the idea. Each adventure hook would’ve ultimately led to the possibility of a confrontation with Tarkantus, but the PCs had no way of knowing that.

In the third article, we had an adventure involving a harpy named Jetharia who, upon dying, would’ve said something like, “The Angel will avenge me”, thus letting the players know that there was something up. In going back and reading the older articles, I realize that my intention had been to give them a hook to Shieldwell Keep through a plot against the Castellan’s life in the first adventure. I also wanted to create a bit of a mini-boss, since I like to look ahead to later adventures. Sure, it could be the Evil Cleric in Caves of Chaos, but he’s only Challenge Rating 2. Since I think of levels 1-4 as the first tier of adventuring, I want an adversary around challenge rating 4. I also want the PCs to get their first taste of “Oh, hey, there’s something very odd going on here.” To this end, I begin to put together a new NPC to be the mini-boss at the end of level 4 - Mehethrass, a Couatl.

Given that couatls are generally lawful good, most PCs probably haven’t fought one. They’re also pretty formidable foes, given that they are immune to damage from non-magical weapons. Mehethrass is going to be confusing but also really give the PCs a run for their money. He won’t be alone, since he’s not a legendary critter and therefore not really up for soloing a party of adventurers, but he’ll be memorable. He also won’t likely fight to the death, making it possible for him to fail his Master and show up later on as a lieutenant to a more powerful foe.

In order to begin to foreshadow this early in the campaign, and to tie back the idea of a plot against the Castellan, in Jetharia’s lair, I would likely put a letter from Mehethrass talking about the plot in somewhat veiled terms, perhaps referencing “our friend in the Keep”, “the impediment from the Keep shouldn’t be around much longer”, and advising her to send a report to “the Master of the Caves”. This ties a bunch of plot threads together and gives the PCs some solid leads. If they’re a good party, they will likely go to the Keep to try and aid the Castellan, but his guards are unlikely to let this unknown party too close to their lord. They might find themselves exploring the Caves of Chaos in order to find this “Master” and try and reveal more about his plans.

Now, maybe the PCs won’t take you up on the harpy plot when you dangle it in front of them. Maybe they’ll head to Quasqueton first, or the Caves of Chaos. In this case, you simply adapt similar elements to the new location. Maybe in Quasqueton, the PCs encounter some goblins. Among their effects are a letter from Mehethrass telling the goblins to determine if there’s anything there that can aid their Angel and advising them to report to Master of the Caves whatever they find. Or maybe they go to the Caves first, in which case they might find a letter from Mehethrass in the evil priest’s effects. The point is to let the PCs know by the end of the first adventure that there’s an Angel, a plot against the Castellan, an enemy in the Keep, and someone named Mehethrass who seems to be coordinating local forces of Chaos.

Next time, we’re going to take a look at some allies and rewards that the PCs might get in the first few levels to help them against the forces they face. Until then, may the dice fall ever in your favor.

#dnd #DnD stuff #DnD 5e #dnd 5 #dnd campaign #dnd 5e campaign #D&D #d&d campaign #d&d 5e #d&d 5e campaign #Dungeons and Dragons #dungeons & dragons #dungeon master #dungeonmaster #DM advice #campaign building #dungeons & dragons campaign #dungeons and dragons campaign #GM Advice

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eeveevie · 5 years ago

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Salvation is a Last Minute Business (8/18)

Chapter 8: A Left-Handed Form

After securing an important piece of evidence from the Third Rail, Madelyn and Deacon fill Nick in on the evening’s events and come to a startling revelation. At Railroad HQ, more secrets are revealed in the hunt for Boston’s crime-lord, while members of the team are threatened. Proof of his crimes in hand, Madelyn and Nick finally make their move against Eddie Winter.

“After all, crime is only...a left-handed form of human endeavor.” - Alonzo D. Emmerich as played by Louis Calhern (The Asphalt Jungle, 1950)

While the entire work has a content warning for ‘graphic depictions of violence’, the warning kicks into high gear in this chapter, specifically in the last section.

[read on Ao3] x [chapter masterpost]

April 11th, 1958

Midnight.

Madelyn felt like she had déjà vu—sitting in the back of a taxicab with Deacon’s hand wrapped tightly around hers, the two rushing away from another devastating scene. Instead of the fiery destruction of Ticonderoga, however, it was the chaotic crowd of the Third Rail, still reeling over the murder of their leader, Skinny Malone. She glanced to Deacon, catching her unrecognizable reflection in his sunglasses—that was the face of a woman who had nearly kissed him under the guise of husband and wife. If only they had more time to stay in those personas—Kitty and Johnny—long enough for her to finally act on her feelings. But Madelyn knew better—knew she couldn’t find comfort in a fantasy life when she hadn’t come to terms with how she felt in reality. Though, matters of the heart were hardly her concern when she had the Eddie Winter case to focus on. While the undercover job was over, their work was hardly done.

Just as Madelyn had done on that cold February evening, she instructed the driver to escort them to the agency. With Skinny Malone’s pocketbook in hand, she didn’t want to risk going anywhere else. There was also the small fear in the back of her mind that she and Deacon had been made—she wasn’t about to lead mobsters to her apartment or the Railroad headquarters. The faster she got to work on analyzing the planner’s contents, the faster a potential lead could be discovered.

“Look’s like the detective is in,” Deacon mused sarcastically as they arrived on the darkened Fens street, helping her from the cab with his lips in a flat line.

With no time for his and Nick’s sustained rivalry, she brushed his hand away and quickly strode to unlock the front door. Madelyn continued towards Nick’s partially closed office door and the light within, grateful for his late nights. Just as she crossed through the doorway, hand on the doorknob, a familiar giggle echoed through the room and she knew she had interrupted something intimate. Jenny was perched upon the large oak desk, one hand wrapped around Nick’s tie and the other hooked around his shoulder as she kept him standing between her legs, the two locked in a passionate kiss.

Madelyn was just about to step backwards out of the room when she bumped into a sturdy chest, tilting her head back to find Deacon—he had covered his natural hair with one of his black pompadour wigs—had he stashed some of his disguises in her office since they became partners? When he noticed what she had stumbled upon, he smiled and let out a low whistle, catching the couple’s attention.

“Sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds,” Deacon spoke casually, much to Madelyn’s mortification. He rested his hands on her shoulders, and she smacked a hand to her face. “We have good news and bad news.”

“Oh, don’t mind me, Mads!” Jenny’s amusement wasn’t all that comforting, especially when Nick’s expression was a mix of embarrassment and irritation. The other woman hopped down from the desk to stand, smoothing out the fabric of her dress before flashing a wink. “Humphrey Bogart, good to see you again.”

Deacon barked a laugh. “Always a pleasure, Miss Lands.”

“I’m sorry Nick,” Madelyn sighed, moving into his office—no use in leaving now. “We wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important.”

The detective readjusted his tie and if she didn’t know any better, flushed at the smear of lipstick on his shirt collar. As he tried in vain to wipe it away with his fingers, he shook his head. “Shouldn’t you be at the Third Rail?”

“That’s the bad news,” Deacon said, relaxing into one of the empty armchairs. Nick’s annoyed expression intensified at the ominous tone. “Skinny Malone is dead.”

At that, Jenny drifted towards the doorway. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

Nick waited until his fiancé was out of earshot to ask his questions. “What the hell happened? Weren’t there supposed to be a whole group of undercover cops at the joint? Where was Marty?” he pinched the bridge of his nose before dragging his hand down to rub at his chin in thought. “Do I even want to know the good news?”

Before Deacon could make some kind of snide remark or explain in his own colorful way, Madelyn approached, placing the pocketbook she had taken on Nick’s desk. She kept her hand atop the leather-bound covering while he eyed it curiously.

“In order? He was poisoned. Marty was nowhere to be seen, but neither were Winter’s men,” she explained, tapping the book again. “I took this off of Skinny Malone while pretending to be a helpful nurse,” The memory made her stomach churn. “I hope it was worth our trouble.”

Nick took the worn book from her and sat down in his office chair, carefully tugging at the elastic bands that held it closed. Meanwhile, Jenny reappeared with a small tray of coffee, handing a steaming mug to Deacon before approaching the desk. She passed a blue ceramic cup to Madelyn—already made the way she preferred—and another to her fiancé with a grin. But Nick only regarded her with a worried frown.

“Jenny dear, you should take the keys and—”

“What and let the three of you have all the fun?” she smirked, eyeing the way Madelyn was still dressed in her borrowed gown. “You won’t get rid of me that easily, Nicky. I know you want to protect me from all the nasty details, but don’t think I haven’t gleamed enough from what you’ve brought home.”

The redhead circled the desk to sit in the other empty armchair, sipping her coffee as if she was satisfied that she had made her point. Nick sighed, knowing he was better off not arguing with his lady-love. Instead, he focused on Skinny Malone’s notebook, flipping through the pages that were filled top to bottom with scribbled writing. Almost immediately, his brows furrowed, and he reached for his pack of smokes, bypassing the cup of coffee.

“Don’t tell me it’s just a log of when he goes to the can,” Deacon mumbled from his spot. Madelyn shot him a warning glance from over her shoulder and he flashed a coy smile.

Nick ignored his comment, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Seems Skinny and his men were monitoring Winter just like us,” he started, finger dragging across a few lines of fountain pen. “Wiretaps at several locations, stakeouts since he was released from prison and a handful of men on the inside.”

“Did they discover anything?” Madelyn asked.

Working outside of the law, the Triggermen must’ve been able to find more evidence than the agency. Nick flipped through a few more pages, pausing to flick stray ashes into the nearby tray and take a sip of coffee when Jenny gave him a knowing glance. His eyes widened and his smoke nearly fell from his lips as he slammed his palm against the book.

“They followed him to his base of operations!” he exclaimed, turning the pages around so Madelyn could read for herself. With the notebook in hand, she looked over the text—Joe’s Spuckies Sandwich Shop, near Andrew Station in South Boston, underground cellar and bunker—Nick exhaled, “We’ve got him.”

Madelyn wasn’t swayed as she read on.

“Not so fast,” she warned. “The agency is named in here—you specifically—here,” she passed the book back to Nick so he could read. “Eddie Winter has been watching our movements and the Triggermen knew about it. But it looks like Winter didn’t feel too threatened until recently.”

Nick’s expression darkened as he silently looked over the writings with a careful eye. Madelyn could only stand and watch in silence, gazing over her shoulder to find Deacon studying her with concern. Jenny appeared equally anxious, quietly drinking her coffee as she observed her fiancé fretting over the notebook’s contents. Finally, Nick let out a long sigh, cigarette smoke hanging in the air around his head.

“It seems like Winter has been feeling cornered,” he began. Under different circumstances, he would’ve been happier to give such a statement. “He’s been struggling to turn the last batch of cops and detectives across Boston P.D. including the Chief Sergeant.”

“Sergeant Sullivan?” Madelyn clarified, to which Nick nodded. The Boston Chief had always given Nick and Madelyn trouble and the two had always figured he was one of the first to be in Eddie Winter’s pocket. “If Danny Boy hasn’t been compromised, then maybe we can go to him with our findings.”

“Oh, so we’re going to trust the police now?” Deacon quipped, disapproving of her suggestion. “Same ones that left us high and dry at the Third Rail?”

She didn’t want to admit that he had a point. “Marty should’ve been there, I know. After he gave us that holotape from police custody…”

Deacon leaned forward, curious. “What holotape?”

“Apparently, it has Eddie Winter’s voice on it, along with some damning evidence,” Madelyn explained. Her Railroad partner’s expression shifted as he nodded, and she realized she’d seen that look earlier in the evening. “Back at the Third Rail—you said he looked familiar. What did you mean?”

“You won’t like this,” he winced, before continuing with a strained sigh. “He’s the one I saw in the rearview mirror, walking away from the other car out front of Ticonderoga, right before the explosion.”

“Bullshit,” Nick immediately replied. “Like I’d believe a word you have to say.”

Madelyn was just as unnerved by the allegation, look to Deacon who only held a sympathetic frown. “I don’t understand.”

“I’d recognize that kitschy tie anywhere,” he continued. “For a crooked cop working undercover, he didn’t try hard enough to blend in.”

“Says the man who never takes off his sunglasses,” Nick said, mockingly. “Marty’s an ass, but one of Winter’s murderers? That’s a hell of a leap,” he shook his head. “Why would he stick his neck out for us time and time again, if he’d been playing for the other side the entire time?”

“Either he’s one hell of a double agent,” Deacon shrugged. “Or the worst.”

“Deacon,” Madelyn caught his attention, so he’d look at her. “Are you sure? Are you sure you saw Marty that night?”

“Charmer,” he spoke her codename with such sincerity. “I swear.”

Nick still wasn’t convinced, rubbing at his temple in frustration as he lit the end of a new cigarette. “I’m not going to condemn a man over a tie.”

Jenny spoke up for the first time since they had started their conversation about the case. “What did you always say to Marty, Nick?” she said, in a calm even voice—so unlike the usual bubbly tone Madelyn was used to hearing from the feisty woman. “That either his drinking or ambition would get him into trouble one day. Well maybe he was stupid enough to let the greed take over.”

Nick locked eyes with his fiancé, quietly contemplating her words. Jenny tilted her head to the side and grimaced. “He always did wear the most God-awful ties.”

Madelyn struggled to hold back her smile at the way Nick rolled his eyes, conceding with a sigh. If anything, he looked to be disappointed—Marty was somebody he considered a friend. “It would explain why he and the other undercover police disappeared from the Third Rail tonight.”

Deacon hummed, catching their attention. “Are we saying that instead of sending his own men, Eddie Winter had Boston P.D. off Skinny Malone?”

This time his suggestion wasn’t met by outright objection and silence filled the room as they considered the implications. Madelyn hadn’t noticed anything unusual when she was at the speakeasy—then again, she had been frequently distracted by Johnny—maybe that was part of the plan on Winter’s part. Nobody would suspect an inside job. But that still left more than a few questions that needed to be answered. What was on the holotape, and what was Marty’s true role? Another thought crossed her mind.

She pointed at the notebook laying on Nick’s desk. “Anyone find it convenient that Skinny Malone had such an important piece of evidence on him?”

“Like it was meant to be found?” Jenny questioned. What she said wasn’t too far off, but Madelyn had other ideas.

“Or he was planning to hand it off,” she suggested instead. “Didn’t expect to be double-crossed by a bad batch of bourbon.”

Nick nodded, agreeing with her train of thought. “Even with the chips stacked against us, we have the upper hand here with Skinny Malone’s notebook and the holotape.”

Jenny groaned, shaking her head as she finished off her coffee. “There he goes again with the poker analogies…”

“Considering who it came from, that could be a dead-end.” Madelyn noted, solemnly. “We have to listen to it first.”

“You’re right,” Nick replied. “Where would we get access to a holotape player?”

Deacon clapped his hands together, grinning in an all too self-satisfied way. “I think I know a guy.”

Desdemona wasn’t pleased when Deacon showed up at the Old North Church with Nick Valentine unannounced, but wherever the holotape went, the detective followed. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Madelyn to keep the evidence safe, but he needed to hear what was on the recording for himself. While Deacon gave a report of the evening’s events to the Railroad’s leader by the main dais, Madelyn and Nick sat preoccupied by Tinker Tom’s ramblings. The Railroad engineer and self-described inventor was a few screws short of a hardware store, but besides offering the occasional outlandish conspiracy theory, he hadn’t done anything to offend Madelyn since she joined the Railroad. His behavior was something she was used to—Nick, however, looked uncomfortable.

“I wish I would’ve met you sooner, man,” Tom said with a bright smile, gesturing to Nick’s prosthetic hand. “If you want, I could replace that with some top-notch robotics. State-of-the-art circuitry you wouldn’t find anywhere else.”

Nick tried his hardest to maintain an air of civility. “I’m sure the folks at MIT set me up well enough.”

“Oh no, see, that’s where they’ve got you, man,” Tom frowned, shaking his head in earnest. “You can’t trust those scientists.”

Before he could go off on another tangent about how the college was poisoning the water supply, or how to avoid their microscopic food robots, Madelyn decided it was time to steer the conversation to the reason they were there to begin with.

“Deacon said you could help us with this,” she nodded to Nick who hesitated before pulling the holotape from his trench coat pocket. Tom carefully examined the small, yellow, plastic-encased recording and broke out into a grin.

“Oh man, it’s been ages since I saw one of these,” he explained, pushing away in his rolling office chair to a different desk where a large electronic device was set up. Tom swiveled to face them, beckoning them over with a wave of his hand. “After you and my man Deacon went through the Switchboard, a few more agents have been making salvage runs. You’re looking at certified US government property.”

Madelyn wished Tom knew he was admitting to the possession of stolen property to a lawyer—but beyond her agent codename, there was little he knew about her—that was the whole point of codenames and secret identities, to avoid learning too much and forming attachments. She wondered where Deacon had lost his memo. Or maybe she’d lost hers.

“…I’ll just pop this in here and—”

If Tom had been speaking, she had zoned out, and pushed forth a polite smile to compensate. Nick finally looked invested in what the other man had to say, now that they were making progress. With the holotape inside the device, he pressed a few buttons, but nothing seemed to be happening, much to the detective’s frustration.

“Memory hiccup, but…” Tom mumbled, adjusting a few knobs.

Deacon appeared next to Madelyn, gently brushing a loose brunette strand behind her ear. She’d almost forgotten she was still wearing the damn wig and was half-tempted to tear it off when she remembered the ungodly number of bobby-pins keeping it in place. Just as quick as he made the adjustment, his hand swiftly returned to his side. That was one noticeable trait—that when they were around other Railroad agents (other than Drummer Boy) or at headquarters, he was reluctant to be as physically close to her as he usually was when they were alone. It was difficult not to read into, but she found comfort in the tiny gesture nonetheless.

“Did I miss anything?” he asked. Rather than anyone in the group responding, the holotape began its playback.

Message to Robert Cooper—You did good, Bobby. The wife and girl won't be saying anything. No worries. Hell, once those fat life insurance checks start rolling in, Mrs. Montrano will wish her fat slob of a husband had eaten that bullet 5 years ago. As for what happens next - up to you. Beach, sub shop, car yard - doesn't matter where he ends up. I don't give a shit - I just want him in the ground. So long as Johnny Senior never finds out what happens to his little meatball, we're set. Eddie Winter, signing off.

There was a long pause and Nick nearly toppled out of his chair. “Is that it?”

Tom shook his head, raising his hand to hush him as he toyed with the dials. “This baby has a lot more where that came from.”

“Did you hear that though?” Madelyn was breathless. She’d heard Winter’s voice on the television and radio broadcasts during his criminal trials the previous year, but in this context it was far more frightening. There he was, admitting to the assassination of Johnny Montrano Jr, more or less. “Why would he record something like that?”

Deacon scoffed, bewildered. “He’s insane, this is way past conceited, like he thinks he can get away with it.”

“Shh! Shh!” Tom quieted them as the tape crackled to life again.

Message to Marty Bulfinch—Listen Marty, I know you’ve got a history with that private dick, so right now you’re the only thing standing between him and a .44 caliber bullet to the brain. If you want to keep insisting Mr. Valentine has got nothing to hide, then you must not value your life or career. Since everyone already knows about your drinking problem, maybe they wouldn’t be surprised to learn about your gambling debts, or how Mrs. Bulfinch left you to live in New York. Have you seen her Manhattan apartment? Green carpet and white tile in the bathroom? You must pay a pretty penny on those alimony checks. Reconsider my offer, maybe I’ll sweeten the deal with some booze. Eddie Winter, signing off.

“Marty was blackmailed,” Nick spoke the moment there was another break in the recording. He snapped his gaze to Deacon who furrowed his brows in annoyance.

“He still murdered my friends,” he spat.

Madelyn rested her hand on Nick’s arm, trying her best to ease the tension, silently reminding him of where they were. While it was important to learn the circumstances behind Marty’s choices, the decision had resulted in the death and destruction of the Railroad agents—the very people that were helping them now. It wasn’t worth reminding him how she almost died that night as well, if it hadn’t been for Deacon saving her life. The detective sat back in his chair, jaw clenched. Tom took that as his cue to start the holotape again.

Message to Vinnie Vannucci—It’s time. Start having the boys ask around for that broad the detective is sweet on. Find everything you can on that dame of a partner while you’re at it. Hear she’s some lawyer with the District Attorney’s office—she’d be useful if we can bribe her. Otherwise, I know how good you are at magic tricks. Let’s see if you can make two more nosy dollies disappear. Eddie Winter, signing off.

Madelyn could feel Nick trembling from where her hand was still resting on his arm, fists clenched tightly as he struggled to maintain his composure. A personal threat, almost as if Nick was meant to hear it. Then again, it had been personally delivered to them by Winter’s inside man, so it might as well have been a personalized greeting from the crime-lord himself. Even she had been targeted, but strangely enough, she hardly felt as frightened as she did for the other implicated woman.

“That’s all she wrote,” Tom said, ejecting the holotape from the device reader. “Well, he—this Eddie Winter guy sure sounds—”

“I’m going to kill that son-of-a-bitch,” Nick muttered, standing before she could stop him.

No matter how riled up he had gotten over each new piece of news or evidence in the case against Winter, Nick had never escalated towards vengeance. Even with all the corruption, the detective still believed in justice, still valued the court system and hoped the right people could put Eddie Winter away for good. But now, it was personal.

“What are you saying?” Madelyn asked, watching as he paced in a small line. It only made the panic rooted inside her chest spread. “Nick?”

“We need to head back to the agency and strategize a plan of attack on his base of operations,” he explained. “No more waiting around. We strike as soon as possible.”

“One step at a time,” she urged, waving her hands in protest. She understood the importance of striking while the iron was hot, but if they charged in blind, they were only setting themselves up for failure. “What about Jenny?”

Her open-ended question alluded to the thinly-veiled threat Eddie Winter had placed against her on the holotape, and the devastation etched into Nick’s expression told her he had nearly forgotten in his eagerness to leave. He scrubbed at his growing stubble, at a loss for words.

“The Railroad can help,” Deacon offered, breaking the silence. “We—I—can go pick her up and take her to a safehouse. Make sure she’s protected until this ordeal blows over.”

Nick wouldn’t be so easily persuaded. “I don’t trust you.”

“Nobody does,” Deacon replied, soberly.

Without any other options, Nick flicked his gaze to Madelyn and nodded. “She trusts you. That’s enough for me,” he let out a long sigh. “Deacon, you keep my Jenny safe, or there’ll be hell to pay, you hear?”

“Anything for you, Valentine.”

With one last nod, Nick took possession of the holotape from Tinker Tom on his way towards the staircase that led back through the catacombs and church basement. Madelyn turned to face Deacon who was pensive, expression disconcerting for how well-dressed he was, still wearing the suit from the Third Rail. She likely looked just as out of place, and hardly felt as confident as she had when she first put on the sparkly black dress hours ago.

“I better…” she trailed off, knowing she needed to leave to catch up with Nick.

Before Madelyn could leave, Deacon reached out to grasp her hand, holding it in a firm grasp. His thumb brushed over her knuckles in an affectionate sweep as his lips twitched to the side in a brief smile.

“Keep yourself safe, Charmer,” he said, softly. She squeezed his fingers back in reply.

“I promise.”

April 12th, 1958

No amount of careful planning could’ve prepared Nick and Madelyn for what they faced when they traveled into South Boston the next evening, breaking into the Joe’s Spuckies Sandwich Shop when the coast was clear. They had trailed Eddie Winter to the location and watched the building from afar for hours before advancing, hoping they could corner him in the underground bunker. The two slowly crept through the darkened halls, pistols drawn—of course, that didn’t stop two of Winter’s men from sneaking up on them from behind, incapacitating them both with a hit from the blunt end of a gun.

The first thing Madelyn heard when she started to regain consciousness were the opening notes to a Bobby Darin album. Her vision blurred as she peeked open her eyes, and it took several blinks to realize she had been moved to a new location—she wasn’t even sure if she was in the sandwich shop anymore. She tried to move but her hands were bound behind her back—as well as her chest and arms—keeping her secure in the chair she occupied. A little resistance proved that her wrists were bound to another pair—Nick. As she struggled to get a glimpse of him over her shoulder, a hand came and jerked her chin from view.

“This one’s awake,” the guard grumbled.

She glared up at the imposing man, wincing at the throbbing pain at the base of her temple where she had been struck. If she were lucky, she didn’t have a concussion. Then again, if luck were on her side, they wouldn’t be tied up in Eddie Winter’s basement. The guard was lucky they had secured a cloth gag in her mouth, otherwise she probably would’ve made to bite at his thumb that still pressed against her cheek. He shuffled away when a new person entered her field of vision—Eddie Winter himself. Tall, lean but muscular, dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Befitting of the Boston crime-lord, he wore an immaculately tailored suit, grey in color, with a little white pocket square. If he wasn’t the scum of the earth mob-boss, she might’ve called him handsome—until he smiled, confirming he was nothing but evil.

“Madelyn Hardy,” he grinned, petting at her hair, inspecting a few golden strands. “You are far prettier than I expected.”

Before he could say anything else or run his grimy fingers across any more of her, Nick began to rouse, which spiked Eddie’s excitement. “Come on Detective Valentine, it’s time to wake up. You wouldn’t want to miss out on all the fun we’re about to have,” he gave a light tap to the side of Nick’s head, to which he recoiled, shaking his head in earnest. If he weren’t gagged, he’d be giving the mobster an earful.

“Oh no,” Eddie softly chuckled, leaning away so the two could see him easily. He had inferred a lot from Nick’s resistance. “You brought her into this, so any harm that comes to her is your fault.”

Madelyn steadied herself at the veiled threat. Clearly the man had a plan for them that evening and judging by the other guards that occupied the room, it couldn’t be good. Nick fidgeted, his hands fighting against the binds in vein while Eddie watched, a wild glaze in his eyes. Deacon was right—the man was insane and wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied. She was briefly reminded of Doctor Crocker, but Eddie’s methodical madness was far more terrifying.

“That’s what I like to do, Valentine,” the man said, slowly reaching into his jacket and retrieving his .44 pistol. “Teach lessons.”

She was momentarily confused—expecting far more from the man who had murdered his victims in extravagant ways—until he raised the weapon and quickly shot not at her and Nick but at the two guards standing watch over them. His aim was deadly, each man only needing one bullet each to the center of their skulls before they dropped to the floor with a loud thud. Madelyn flinched at every movement and sound, yells muffled by the gag, trembling at the mix of fear and relief—was she next? Nick’s curses were equally stifled, and more than ever she could feel his fingers working to loosen the ropes. Eddie hardly had a reaction to killing his own men, running a hand through his hair with a disgruntled sigh.

“I can’t even trust my own men, stealing right from under my nose,” he waved the gun to one of the dead men. “Making moves on my girl. Small offenses to some, but to me? Don’t you know who I am?”

The record player switched over to a new song, and Eddie smiled, mumbling to himself about how he adored the song. After adjusting his suit jacket, he sidled back towards them, with a little dance in his step. Madelyn had never been more alarmed by an action—as the man said—this was fun for him.

“You know Valentine, that’s why when I found out you and your no-name agency were snooping around, I wasn’t in the slightest bit threatened,” he shook his head. “A laughing-stock detective and some reject from the D.A.’s office—don’t you know where the fairer sex belongs, dollface?”

Madelyn gritted her teeth, wanting nothing more than to shoot the man herself. Regardless of the unknown factors, it was now just the two of them against Eddie. If they could get their ties free, perhaps they could end this nightmare once and for all. He backed away, twirling in a two-step to the rhythm of the song.

“Still, never can be too careful,” Eddie continued, walking towards an armchair with a large plastic tarp draped over it. Only then did Madelyn notice feet were sticking out at the bottom, and the droplets of blood splattered across the concrete flooring. “I should’ve picked a better inside man. One that wasn’t so blindly loyal to you.”

Whatever Madelyn expected to see beneath the sheet, it was far worse when Eddie yanked the plastic away, revealing the mutilated corpse of Marty Bullfinch. Not even the scene at Earl Sterling’s apartment could’ve prepared her—the only recognizable part of him left was the bright yellow tie around his neck.

“Poor Marty,” Eddie frowned, tilting his head to inspect the body. “But what a piece of art this is, don’t you agree? One of our new contractors, Mr. Pinkman—wouldn’t want to be alone with him in a dark alley.”

“I suppose Marty did what I asked of him,” Eddie sighed, turning to a small table where he placed his weapon back in the holster of his jacket. Madelyn wasn’t relieved, however, as he swapped it for a short combat knife. “But that idiot had it in his head that he could still help you, leak information that would end the empire I’ve built.”

The man crossed back over to where the two were tied up, focusing his attention on Nick. Madelyn craned her neck to see that Eddie was balancing the knife’s edge under his chin, smirking as he tugged the cloth from the detective’s mouth.

“Now, Valentine,” he said. “You’re gonna tell me everything you know. I know you’ve been dying to say something all night.”

Nick moved and Madelyn realized that in all the time Eddie had been monologuing, he had been breaking free of his binds. “Yeah, don’t bring a knife to a gunfight.”

Nick brought his arms out from behind him in one swift movement, using the forward momentum as he stood to tackle Eddie to the floor. Madelyn felt a surge of adrenaline rush through her veins and she rushed, fingers fumbling to loosen her ties so she could help. From over her shoulder she could see the two struggling to gain control of the knife, Nick finally tossing the weapon far away and out of reach. The next move was to reach for the gun holstered in Eddie’s suit. Panic started to rise in her chest—just as the ropes fell from her wrists and she pulled the gag from her mouth, a shot rang out and she froze, turning to see what had happened.

Another shot and her worst fears started to envelop her as Nick slumped to the ground, Eddie’s hand gripped firmly around the .44 pistol. He was breathless and disheveled, but the look in his eyes was rabid as he locked onto her. Before she could stand, he had stumbled over to her, discarding the gun as he pushed her to the ground. Madelyn was splayed against the hard, concrete floor as he straddled her body, large hands wrapping around her neck and pressing down on her windpipe.

“I like to be intimate with my dollies,” he hissed.

Madelyn wouldn’t surrender to the terror—she wouldn’t die like this. She knew there wasn’t much time to enact a plan of escape and squirming beneath him only made him squeeze harder. But she had a promise to keep, and damnit if she wasn’t going to see Deacon again or bring Nick home to Jenny. It was now or never. If anything, she was spurred on by the repulsive way he was half-singing along to the song still playing on the record-player, smile a sickening a sight.

“Could it be our boy's done somethin' rash?”

She twisted her body, reaching down to bunch up the left side of her skirt so she could feel at the cool metal of her holstered pistol. The guards hadn’t bothered to check her for the hidden weapon after taking the one from her hands, and it would be their folly. Eddie’s grasp on her throat made her concentration waver, but she fought through the pain and dizziness. As soon as she had the gun in hand, she pressed the muzzle to his body and fired.

Madelyn sucked in a gasp of breath as his hands released her neck, Eddie’s body falling off of hers as he fell to the floor in anguish.

“Bitch!” he yelled, rolling away and snapping his hands to the wound on his side, blood soaking through his grey jacket. She scrambled away, struggling to stand to keep her weapon trained on him. At her feet, she saw his .44 and swiftly kicked it away. Eddie groaned, snarling up at her. He shook his head and laughed. “You won’t kill me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he barked, gradually pushing himself up to stand. Eddie gestured to where Nick was laying motionless on the ground, a slow puddle of blood had started to form beneath him. “He’s not dead. But he will be. Better act fast if you want Valentine to live.”

Madelyn didn’t think twice, rushing to her partner’s side. Eddie took the time to make his slow escape, pulling himself up the basement staircase and out of sight, a trail of blood following him in his wake. She wondered just how far he’d make it in his escape—but the man was resourceful. Right now, however, she had larger concerns. She collapsed on the ground next to Nick, examining his injuries. He had been shot twice—once to his shoulder which was responsible for the visible pool of blood, but there was another wound to his chest which shook her straight to her core.

Just like Nate.

Except, there wasn’t as much blood, and Nick appeared to be half-conscious as she gripped his hand, trying with all her might to rouse him. She wouldn’t lose him like this. Not after everything they’d been through—not in the same way she’d lost her husband. God—if he even existed—wouldn’t be so cruel to her in such a way.

“Come on, Nick,” she wept, the tears already streaming down her face. His eyes lifted, just barely and she gasped, gripping his hand tightly. Her encouraging words were useless, but she spoke them anyways. “You have to get up, we have to get out of here.”

His breath was shallow and ragged, before his eyes closed again. “Tell Jenny…”

Instead of slumping over his body and sobbing, Madelyn moved, on the hunt for a phone to call for help. He could tell her himself.

#fallout 4 #noir au #deacon x f!solesurvivor #madelyn hardy #deacon #nick valentine #jennifer lands #tinker tom #eddie winter #also some spoiler characters #eddie winter dances like a psychopath ala american psycho #you may never be able to listen to bobby darrin again #anyways see you next week :D

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veryfantasticstudent · 4 years ago

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Cyberpunk for the 21st Century: ONF’s “Sukhumvit Swimming”

If I write about a K-pop group, chances are I have been a fan of them for a while. This is not the case for ONF. M-Net’s Road to Kingdom brought this group to my attention, and though I checked out some of their work it is the sextet’s latest comeback, Spin-Off, hooked me to them. The title track for this mini album is “Sukhumvit Swimming”, a tropical house track with a touch of ONF’s signature heavy synths and guitar. The MV continues ONF’s science fiction-inspired scenarios and hones them down to a particular subgenre (my favourite)—cyberpunk. I wouldn’t label any k-pop concept as through-and-through cyberpunk until now, but “Sukhumvit Swimming” borrows and adds enough to that subgenre to be considered a part of that class of literature. The MV borrows from cyberpunk in spirit and setting but combines them in fascinating new ways.

youtube

“Sukhumvit Swimming” by ONF on Woolim Entertainment’s YouTube Channel

Cyberpunk is a subgenre of science fiction that came around in the 1980s and was fascinated by hacker culture. It was was thinking about the Internet, bodily augmentations, AI, mind uploads, all in the setting of dystopian cityscapes were corporates ruled the world. The Cyberpunk archetype is a hacker who uses the oppressive technology of the corporate to figure out the flows of late capital and direct them to his (usually, the protagonists are, unfortunately, male) goal: freedom. The “technology” is generally an Internet-like technology, and hence the “cyber”. The cyberpunk also hacks systems like the cityscape to fight corporate domination. The “punk” came from the rebellious and stylish punk-rocker, and it denotes cyberpunk’s fascination with the power of leather-clad, heavily-mascara-ed punk-pop culture. Neuromancer by William Gibson, Schismatrix by Bruce Sterling, Wetware by Rudy Rucker, and Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner are some works that found the tradition in the West. Altered Carbon by Richard K Morgan, The Matrix, and Westworld kept it alive in later decades. Ghost in the Shell, Akira, PsychoPass, Serial Experiments: Lain are some iconic works from Japan that have pushed boundaries for the subgenre. Amidst its neon landscapes, grubby alleyways, gore, and shiny machinery, cyberpunk asks a simple question: what place do we, humans and individuals, have in this “global village” of money and information? Each cyberpunk finds their own answer, and the city always plays an important role in this discovery.

Wyatt rides a tuk-tuk in cyberspace

So, where is Sukhumvit in “Sukhumvit Swimming”? The only thing remotely related to Thailand in the MV seems to be the tuk-tuk that Wyatt drives through a CGI cyberspace landscape. At first glance, even this is jarring—why would one drive a tuk-tuk through cyberspace? The answer is: why not? “Sukhumvit Swimming” insists on mixing the local with the global. The cyberpunk always stays true to their roots even as they dive into popular culture. Cyberspace, in most cyberpunk, is a visual fest where one can look like whatever they want. If one wants to traverse it with a tuk-tuk, so be it. In a way, all the six settings in the MV are Sukhumvit. They are all a bizarre mix of human-nonhuman, past-future, real-unreal, categories that cyberpunk always confuses to question their boundaries. This confusion allows cyberpunk to figure out, in distinct ways, how an individual’s life is embedded in global capital.

These androids are hella creepy. This sequence seems heavily inspired by Westworld, a cyberpunk work set in an amusement park where artificially intelligent android “hosts” gain sentience and rebel against the abuse that the human guests of the park have practiced on the androids for year.

Each setting of the MV evokes Sukhumvit as a tool, and it is what makes “Sukhumvit Swimming” a clever study of cyberpunk. The first setting is Hyojin’s 1920s American railroad. Whether we are to think of the “people” on board with Hyojin as literal androids or grotesquely mechanised human beings, there are disturbingly few differences between androids and people working like clockwork to their schedules in a metropolis. Our cowboy is different from the rest of the occupants on this train; he is not dressed in the stuffy clothes of these robots—he is a (console?) cowboy, a punk, a rebel.

Hyojin as the cowboy.

U, too, seems to be on this train, but he is, well, high. He drinks a bright blue liquid from a glass and things start to swim. With time stopping and MK floating in space, questioning the reality of our disparate, mediate, postmodern existence should not be too difficult for us. In fact, stimulants of various kinds are an integral part of cyberpunk. Apart from their performance-enhancing effects, drugs are always connected to altering/understanding reality much like the technology of the cyberpunk universe.

Kids, don’t do drugs.

Is the virtual world, where we are all information, more real than our world, where we are just expressions of biology? Is the train that U is on real? The minute U consumes that glass, “reality” is up for grabs[1].

The second major setting of this MV features J-US in the sunburnt ruins of Greek columns and skyscrapers.

J-US’ suburnt world. Blade Runner 2049 has very similar visuals to this post-apocalyptic world.

This odd, out-of-time combination is another reason why “cyberpunk” jumped to my mind. Cyberpunk likes to juxtapose history with the present times and ask: what is the place of history in a time when technology has skewed our perception of time? The anxiety of technophobes is often that these revered worlds like the cradle of Western Civilisation will be forgotten. The survival of these cultures without context—just stone columns in sunbaked worlds—reminds us of the tyranny of the object. Long after humans are gone (extinct or only alive in a virtual world), these traces of us will be left. Until then, we can only absorb and re-write these monuments into our present alongside the skyscrapers of the capitalist world—much like the pastiche cityscape of Sukhumvit.

E-Tion is on the moon. The moon landing was faked, btw. Or was it?

E-Tion’s moon landing is a particularly strange setting. The others, in one way or another, can be found on earth, but why is E-Tion on the moon? Distance and travel in this MV are unstable concepts. If one can travel through cyberspace in a tuk-tuk, one can definitely grow flowers on the moon. In a patchwork fantasy world (like Sukhumvit), anything is possible. More than that, scale is another notion “Sukhumvit Swimming” is determined to throw in the trash. When virtual worlds are accessible to us through stimulants and technology, the moon is no longer the symbol of extraordinary achievement or emotion (“shoot for the moon,” it is said). Even the moon can be subsumed in the network of capitalism--just ask Elon Musk.

MK really reminds me of the Master here.

The only setting we are now left with is MK’s scenario with the mysterious machine. It could be the machine that is responsible for these strange visions; it certainly looks like the Twelfth Doctor’s time-travelling machine, the TARDIS, from BBC’s Doctor Who. Perhaps it is even one of the machines from The Matrix, that are determined to keep humans as only bio-powered cells for the energy they can provide (bio-powered batteries would not generate enough energy, by the way. That’s one of the flaws in the Wachowskis’ reasoning). Strangely enough, no-one touches the machine; MK disappears from the scene towards the end of the MV, leaving the machine perpetually working. The machine never stops and the dreamers (assuming that there is a particular “real” world) will not wake up—unless, of course, something brings them out of the illusion.

That brings me to the “storyline” of this MV. There is certainly one, mixed within the fantastic shots of this MV. All the members start from different settings but towards the end, they all arrive in the desert that J-US started from. The trigger? Hyojin readies his gun to shoot at J-US in quite a memorable scene:-

I said this MV likes to mess with scale, didn’t I?

Unexpectedly, Hyojin is the one who is shot. All the members snap out of their “illusions” and end up in the desert with J-US. Everyone is dying or has at least passed out, except J-US who has been in this setting since the beginning. The cyberpunks come together, out of their illusion—or perhaps into one. Time unfreezes and Hyojin is nowhere to be seen on the train. Our cyberpunks have lived and fought in the blink of an eye (or rather, the three-odd minutes that the MV lasts) to disappear with no trace. Fast, suave, and unreal, the cyberpunk is gone once the fight is over. But what have they achieved?

The cyberpunk cityscape is the place for the rebel to explore the strings of corporate domination. In the case of cyberpunk, relations are usually technologies embedded in the logic of capitalism. When ONF creates a temporary Sukhumvit on our screens, they tie together the disparate scenarios of the MV. Now, the hidden relations that linked the moon to a spaghetti Western train and post-apocalyptic world can be read.

If all the members end up in a dystopian, suntanned terrain, it is because this is where all history leads. “Sukhumvit Swimming” is a slow but certain dive of the world into a spiral of destruction there is no coming back from, a process of the destruction of the world that begins slowly but certainly from the days when human beings began to abuse fossil fuels. The trains, the tuk-tuks, the rockets of “Sukhumvit Swimming” are as much a part of the process as the fireworks that explode in front of E-Tion’s moon.

When the MV ends, Time begins its work again, moving inexorably towards the end. Sukhumvit is a tool to understand how the flows of global capital have isolated humans (and even technology) into our own fantastical worlds, worlds as small as our phone screens, without seeing our connections to the outside world. Our work is to make/find our Sukhumvit, our tool for understanding our place in these networks that seem to mysteriously guide our lives. The cyberpunk has disappeared, but there is someone that still remains: it is you, and your battle has just begun.

[1] Stealing this expression from Cavallaro, Dani. Cyberpunk and Cyberculture: Science Fiction and the Works of William Gibson, pp. 38.

#온앤오프 #ONF #스쿰��스위밍 #sukhumvit swimming #sukhumvit #k-pop #kpop #k-pop comeback #spin off #cyberpunk #technology #thailand #bangkok

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pwbi · 5 years ago

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Build-A-World #1

Recently I got the opportunity to DM for a D&D club at my University, and with that comes time to develop a campaign. I figured it would make a lot of sense to document the process and use it as a sort of guide on how I approach making a setting for a game.

Prior to session one I talked with my players and decided to run a game with heavy combat, some roleplay, and little intrigue. I mention this now because some of my design will revolve around what I am trying to provide to my players.

With a little under a week of prep time, I made a few simple plot hooks and developed a town as the parties home base.

With time limitations on coming up with a general plot and content for session 1, I opted to go for a dungeon crawl campaign with a town as a home base.

Making a Town

The first thing I want to know when making an area is what kind of things/people the party are likely to come upon. Since I’m not doing anything extravagant, this is mainly the demographics of this town. I decided this town would be at the edge of a mountain range, so I decided the majority of people in the town are Dwarves, with a number of humans/halflings and a small minority (<10%) of elves.

Quick note: The reason I make demographics is so that can guide the creation of important local figures. If you make up arbitrary %’s you can even use a d20 or percentile dice to determine what race a particular NPC is.

This town also needs a name, so I went onto the discord for some ideas, so credit to kittychat47 on Discord for naming this town Nicsama

Major Features

Since this town is supposed to be a home base, I want to cover all the basics of things that my players might want to get, so I decided that the town has a Church, Inn, Blacksmith, General Store, and Alchemy Shop. I left out things like a Jeweler or Magic Shops on purpose. I dont want to restrict players early on, but leaving room to make PCs work to find/use/sell certain items can be a good plothook.

Since I know these are notable features of the town, I want to have pre-made NPCs running each. Using the demographics from earlier, I came up with 3 Dwarves, a human, a halfling, and an elf as notable NPCs for the buildings from earlier.

I also need to know how this town is run, so I decided the town is led by a Dwarf.

The Adventure

We have the basics of what I need to know about the town for the purpose of running a first game, so now I need a plot hook and some encounters. Since we have major features of the town, it makes sense to tie a plot hook to that. We have a Church, so maybe there is a rat problem in the basement. Pretty straightforward.

From here, we can create a couple different ways to lead the PCs to this. If the players wander around the town, they could see an elderly priest asking a town guard if they can send anyone to help. If they go to the Church they could hear rats or a priest could mention it, and if they go to another major business an NPC could mention it there. Creating multiple plot hooks like this is a way to gently guide PCs towards an adventure without railroading much.

Now for the encounters of this adventure, since the hook was rats in the Church basement, that makes it pretty easy to narrow down my options for encounters. I made lower difficulty encounters out of giant rats and Rat Swarms, and then to keep things interesting I put 2 Shadows in one of these encounters to up the difficulty a little bit.

At this point I have enough content for a ~1.5 hour session, depending on how smoothly everything goes. But because I want this campaign to be a sort of dungeon crawl, I made a ‘boss’ encounter of a few Wererat’s styled after Italian Mobsters who would run through a hole in the wall to deeper underground areas.

The Result

I put this all in a google doc as notes, and the end result looks like this:

I will continue adding onto this as time goes on, but for now this is all I need to prepare for the first session.

The session itself ran pretty smoothly after a bit of awkwardness in direction and starting roleplay for the players, but by the end everyone at the table was in to it. The session was a little shorter than I expected it to be, none of the PCs needed Strength so the Shadows didn’t slow them down much, and they got a lot of use out of AoE spell damage that would hit multiple swarms at the same time. Not entirely unexpected since I had gone low on encounter difficulty compared to what I normally do, but something to keep in mind for the future.

As the players get deeper into this campaign I will be doing more to flesh out the overarching world as it relates to the adventure, competing factions that might be interested in the players, Pantheons of gods, designing traps, creating more difficult/elaborate combat encounters, etc.

But for now? We have a town, we have some NPCs, and we have all we needed to run a session 1.

#dnd #d&d #Dungeons and Dragons #d&d 5e #dnd5e #running a game #Build A World #dming #how to dm #Probably-Worldbuilding-RPG-Ideas

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addictedforbooksquad · 6 years ago

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P I C K (S) O F T H E M O N T H: M A Y

The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics by Olivia Waite

Passion on Park Avenue by Lauren Layne

Mistborn: The Alloy Era Series by Brandon Sanderson

Mistborn: Secret History by Brandon Sanderson

Marriage for One by Ella Maise

A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin

The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics by Olivia Waite

Genres: Historical Romance, LGBT, F/F romance

Synopsis:

As Lucy Muchelney watches her ex-lover’s sham of a wedding, she wishes herself anywhere else. It isn’t until she finds a letter from the Countess of Moth, looking for someone to translate a groundbreaking French astronomy text, that she knows where to go. Showing up at the Countess’ London home, she hoped to find a challenge, not a woman who takes her breath away. Catherine St Day looks forward to a quiet widowhood once her late husband’s scientific legacy is fulfilled. She expected to hand off the translation and wash her hands of the project—instead, she is intrigued by the young woman who turns up at her door, begging to be allowed to do the work, and she agrees to let Lucy stay. But as Catherine finds herself longing for Lucy, everything she believes about herself and her life is tested. While Lucy spends her days interpreting the complicated French text, she spends her nights falling in love with the alluring Catherine. But sabotage and old wounds threaten to sever the threads that bind them. Can Lucy and Catherine find the strength to stay together or are they doomed to be star-crossed lovers?

Why we love it:

a beautiful love story between two women

female friendships and women supporting women

characters who find out about Lucy and Catherine are not homophobic but rather supportive

focus on both romance AND personal journeys of the characters

sexism and misogyny are challenged, by both female and male characters (some of them at least)

beautiful, poetic passages

Trigger warnings: mentions of emotional abuse, sexism, misogyny

≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡

Passion on Park Avenue by Lauren Layne

Genres: Romance, Contemporary, New Adult

Synopsis:

For as long as she can remember, Bronx-born Naomi Powell has had one goal: to prove her worth among the Upper East Side elite—the same people for which her mom worked as a housekeeper. Now, as the strongminded, sassy CEO of one of the biggest jewelry empires in the country, Naomi finally has exactly what she wants—but it’s going to take more than just the right address to make Manhattan’s upper class stop treating her like an outsider. The worst offender is her new neighbor, Oliver Cunningham—the grown son of the very family Naomi’s mother used to work for. Oliver used to torment Naomi when they were children, and as a ridiculously attractive adult, he’s tormenting her in entirely different ways. Now they find themselves engaged in a battle-of-wills that will either consume or destroy them… Filled with charm and heart and plenty of sex and snark, this entertaining series will hook you from the very first page.

Why we love it:

ambitious millionaire female character whose story is basically about rags to riches

soft male character

female friendships and dynamics are amazing

cute love story

Lauren Layne’s style has improved so much and it’s time to start reading her books

Trigger warnings: n/a

Mistborn: The Alloy Era series by Brandon Sanderson

Genres: Fantasy, High Fantasy, Adult

Synopsis:

Three hundred years after the events of the Mistborn trilogy, Scadrial is now on the verge of modernity, with railroads to supplement the canals, electric lighting in the streets and the homes of the wealthy, and the first steel-framed skyscrapers racing for the clouds. Kelsier, Vin, Elend, Sazed, Spook, and the rest are now part of history—or religion. Yet even as science and technology are reaching new heights, the old magics of Allomancy and Feruchemy continue to play a role in this reborn world. Out in the frontier lands known as the Roughs, they are crucial tools for the brave men and women attempting to establish order and justice. One such is Waxillium Ladrian, a rare Twinborn who can Push on metals with his Allomancy and use Feruchemy to become lighter or heavier at will. After twenty years in the Roughs, Wax has been forced by family tragedy to return to the metropolis of Elendel. Now he must reluctantly put away his guns and assume the duties and dignity incumbent upon the head of a noble house. Or so he thinks, until he learns the hard way that the mansions and elegant tree-lined streets of the city can be even more dangerous than the dusty plains of the Roughs.

Why we love it:

amazing writing

plots and twists all around

we see familiar faces from the first trilogy *wink wink*

SO. MUCH. FUN.

western-sherlock-fantasy

most adorable character ever, that's on the spectrum

Trigger warnings: violence

Mistborn: Secret History by Brandon Sanderson

Genres: Fantasy, High Fantasy, Adult

Synopsis:

Mistborn: Secret History is a companion story to the original Mistborn trilogy. As such, it contains HUGE SPOILERS for the books Mistborn (The Final Empire), The Well of Ascension, and The Hero of Ages. It also contains very minor spoilers for the book The Bands of Mourning. Mistborn: Secret History builds upon the characterization, events, and worldbuilding of the original trilogy. Reading it without that background will be a confusing process at best. In short, this isn’t the place to start your journey into Mistborn. (Though if you have read the trilogy—but it has been a while—you should be just fine, so long as you remember the characters and the general plot of the books.) Saying anything more here risks revealing too much. Even knowledge of this story’s existence is, in a way, a spoiler. There’s always another secret.

Why we love it:

view on Mistborn Era 1 events from different perspective

reunions that will make you cry

we get SOME answers as well from Mistborn Era 1 and 2

Trigger warnings: violence

Marriage for One by Ella Maise

Genres: Romance, Contemporary, New Adult

Synopsis:

Jack and I, we did everything backward. The day he lured me into his office-which was also the first day we met-he proposed. You'd think a guy who looked like him-a bit cold maybe, but still striking and very unattainable-would only ask the love of his life to marry him, right? You'd think he must be madly in love. Nope. It was me he asked. A complete stranger who had never even heard of him. A stranger who had been dumped by her fiancé only weeks before. You'd think I'd laugh in his face, call him insane-and a few other names-then walk away as quickly as possible. Well…I did all those things except the walking away part. It took him only minutes to talk me into a business deal…erm, I mean marriage, and only days for us to officially tie the knot. Happiest day of my life. Magical. Pop the champagne… Not. It was the worst day. Jack Hawthorne was nothing like what I'd imagined for myself. I blamed him for my lapse in judgment. I blamed his eyes, the ocean blue eyes that looked straight into mine unapologetically, and that frown on his face I had no idea I would become so fascinated with in time. It wasn't long after he said I was the biggest mistake of his life that things started to change. No, he still didn't talk much, but anyone can string a few words together. His actions spoke the loudest to me. And day after day my heart started to get a mind of its own. One second he was no one. The next he became everything. One second he was unattainable. The next he seemed to be completely mine. One second I thought we were in love. The next it was still nothing but a lie. After all, I was Rose and he was Jack. We were doomed from the very beginning with those names. Did you expect anything else?

Why we love it:

soft and bubbly female character

broody male character

fake marriage trope

slowburn + cutest romance with a lil’ bit of angst

development is A+++

Trigger warnings: n/a

A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin

Genres: Fantasy, High Fantasy, Adult

Synopsis:

Long ago, in a time forgotten, a preternatural event threw the seasons out of balance. In a land where summers can last decades and winters a lifetime, trouble is brewing. The cold is returning, and in the frozen wastes to the north of Winterfell, sinister and supernatural forces are massing beyond the kingdom’s protective Wall. At the center of the conflict lie the Starks of Winterfell, a family as harsh and unyielding as the land they were born to. Sweeping from a land of brutal cold to a distant summertime kingdom of epicurean plenty, here is a tale of lords and ladies, soldiers and sorcerers, assassins and bastards, who come together in a time of grim omens. Here an enigmatic band of warriors bear swords of no human metal; a tribe of fierce wildlings carry men off into madness; a cruel young dragon prince barters his sister to win back his throne; and a determined woman undertakes the most treacherous of journeys. Amid plots and counterplots, tragedy and betrayal, victory and terror, the fate of the Starks, their allies, and their enemies hangs perilously in the balance, as each endeavors to win that deadliest of conflicts: the game of thrones.

Why we love it:

high fantasy political drama

well-written dialogue

if you’re already a fan of the TV show, the book gives you an even more detailed account of events with characters POVs while these key moments play out

amazing world building and backstory with so much thought and detail

GRRM has successfully achieved a whole new universe

full of backstabbing, bloody battles and political intrigue

multiple POVs

Trigger warnings: rape, sexual abuse of a minor, graphic violence, sexual violence, incest, misogyny

#book recs #dailylit #nadaily #bookworm #bibliophile #lgbtqa literature #books #the lady's guide to celestial mechanics #central park pact series #asoiaf #mistborn #marriage for one #pick of the month

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paperclipninja · 6 years ago

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Younger post-ep ramble 6x05

If I wasn’t already excited about this episode, discovering that ‘Stiff Competition’ was written by Joe Murphy certainly would have got me there. Maybe it’s because he is a fellow Australian or maybe it’s because in every interview I’ve heard I find him utterly delightful and intelligent or maybe it’s because he is a damn great writer, but one thing is certain after this week’s episode of Younger: J. Murphy, I Stan (there was a time I might have been embarrassed about gushing so unabashedly but now I write weekly essays about fake people so I figure the shame level is zero at this point). This ep had the combination of playfulness, funny, flirty and drama that hooked me into this show in the first place and I feel like we got further insight into a number of characters, broadening our understanding of them and where they’re at. Plus kudos must be given for managing to use the title “Stiff Competition” and make the feature book “The Third Leg” in the same ep (one might even call it a riDICKulous feat…and no I’m not even a bit sorry).

A couple of weeks back I wrote about the Liza and Charles dynamic and how it really thrives on the build and resolution of tension. Up until last season it was the sexual tension and now that’s resolved there needed to be something to keep the fuel on the fire, so to speak. Cue the opening scene of this ep, with the competitive fuel well and truly lit and honestly, this whole scene just rocks my world. We had the drama building the past few eps with Charles being secretive and while that would’ve resulted in the destruction of the relationship had it been left unresolved, it has been used to transition into this next type of competitive cat-and-mouse style tension that the characters are embracing (at the start anyway) and using to their benefit and, let’s be honest, we all benefit because it. is. HOT.

Walking into the National Arts Club party very quickly establishes Charles as well versed at such an event and I am so into the immediate retort from Liza that feisty isn’t the ‘f’ word she would choose to describe Charles setting up Mercury. That does of course come after Charles introduces her to Michael Cunningham as his girlfriend which is just so bizarre to hear but also YES. Their banter, the competiveness in the art of the schmooze, bringing her A game; the whole thing set them on such equal footing and seeing them as ass-slapping sparring partners was something I never knew I needed and could have watched an entire episode of with its feature film feel (Kickstarter for a spin-off series of nerdy espionage-style escapades but about books and authors and literary events…and maybe the odd murder to keep it interesting).

While Liza was certainly showing that she can work a room, Charles’ reputation and professionalism was on fine display as authors greeted him warmly and Liza’s introduction of him to Meg Wolitzer as her boyfriend (seriously I’m living for these gf/bf drops) just got more and more awks as Meg and Charles clearly knew each other, Liza snatched his business card from his hand and then asked the photographer to identify him as her ‘guest’ in the pic (loved Sutton’s delivery of this and extra loved Meg’s ‘just pretend you’re talking to me’ to the rando so she could get away from the slightly unhinged antics of the editor she just met). Yet Charles is loving every minute of it and I so appreciate that now the whole Mercury situation is no longer a secret Charles is talking openly about it with Liza, evidenced by his telling her he received a message from Zane (about Mercury being highbrow/brilliant nonetheless).

Where there is highbrow there must be lowbrow (old tv proverb) and unfortunately for Kelsey, the head without a neck aka ‘a floating tragedy’, she has taken prime position in that quadrant of New York Mag’s approval matrix (can we take a moment to appreciate Liza’s ‘well it is a good picture of him’ remark re: Charles? Way to make your friend feel better but also lol and accurate). While I sympathise with how stressful it must be to lose authors, this ep once again highlights that our pal Kels is in quite the spiral. Luckily Liza has managed to pull in Chip and Joanna Gaines, I mean Hayley and Cameron Butler, who are promoting their cringe-worthy new book, ‘The Third Leg’, off the back of their New York Flip success. I heart the way this show parodies real people so hard.

I have said it week after week, but Diana has been such a scene stealer this season (Diana Trout proudly pointing out Shiplap, I don’t know why but this just made me grin). The writers keep bringing it with the lines and Miriam Shor’s delivery somehow magically seems to get funnier and funnier and her heart eyed gaze as she recounts her and Enzo’s third leg(s) (like a centipede…but also nothing like a centipede, speaking of A+ lines and delivery) was no exception. The whole pitch meeting was a bit of a train wreck, with Kelsey’s bitterness about the hot or not list spilling in, Liza’s attempt at diverting resulting in Diana railroading the entire thing and Liza wondering if she and Charles are in fact lacking the third leg (Empiriconda notwithstanding) that two home reno celebs have deemed a necessary factor in a successful r/ship (though theirs hardly seems the picture of happiness unless #relationshipgoals is taking jabs at each other through strained grins).

One relationship I am digging on every level is Josh and Lauren’s and this week’s ep gave us a mighty fine dose. Of course Lauren set up a GemmaLoves Insta and I’m 100% willing to overlook the slight ickiness of her pushing a SM account for the baby without asking Josh because it’s Lauren and she is sublime and also without it we would not have had THE film-worthy (minus the butt plugs) montage. I freaking adore that Lauren is so unapologetic about promoting stuff and getting freebies and Josh’s stance on not letting his daughter be a pusher for consumerism lasts approx. 25 seconds as Lauren points out all of Gemma’s favourite things that she will happily take back (Josh’s ‘but she loves it’ was just too good). Lauren’s declaration that both Josh and Gemma are gonna get free swag ‘and ya both gonna love it’ (the Eleanor Shellstrop vibe is strong and I approve) leads us into the shopping montage that made me want to dance around my lounge room and could sit comfortably in any rom-com from the late 90’s/early 2000’s. From ‘Baby Love’ to Josh and Lauren feeding each other cupcakes to that glorious moment of Josh parading back and forth on the pavement like a chorus boy, I bow down to Younger pulling rabbits like this out of the creative hat six seasons in, it was just such damn fun.

You know what else I adore? That throughout the series we have seen so many different aspects of Diana’s character and we just keep seeing more and more layers peeled back through her relationship with Enzo. I am so enjoying the side of her we see being open about her feelings for him when she’s around others, then the way she is with him; proud of their relationship then honest about her disappointment that they have to cancel dinner, rather than shutting down and pretending she doesn’t care. Enzo offering to buy Diana any necklace she chooses made my cold dead heart swell with the sincerity and sweetness of it all, but Diana revealing that she does not choose her necklaces, they choose her = the revelation I didn’t know I’ve been waiting six seasons to hear. Not to be dramatic but it felt like coming home.

Side note: I’m finding the parallels between the Diana/Enzo and Liza/Charles relationships really interesting. I don’t know whether it’s deliberate or not but these two couples navigating relationships in their 40’s, trying to strike a balance between career ambition and their personal relationships, I am beyond desperate for Diana to know about Liza’s age and for these two to talk about it all tbh.

Speaking of balancing career and relationship, can we please talk about the dinner date because sweet lawd, my heart was already full from the Diana/Enzo goodness, but then along came Liza and Charles with this whole out together with the authors situation and quite frankly, I’m surprised I survived. Bringing together the book and the earlier meeting was just so well done and the moment Hayley dropped the ‘and you’ and we discover that Charles had indeed gushed about Liza and their shared love of books as their third leg (still sounds weird and gross but totally worth it for the sentiment and post-dinner tie in), I too was staring at my screen the way Liza looked at Charles, but I was also a little bit deceased because I am romantic trash and him casually rubbing her back almost did me in.

I feel like each ep is adding another dimension to Charles this season and seeing him relaxed and candid outside the restaurant was certainly another insight into this character. The entire interaction between him and Liza was effortless and I love that it went from Liza ribbing him about using their relationship to secure the book to Charles being so frank about where it’s all at and how he’s feeling (and does anyone else hope a little bit that Charles does end up needing that room in Liza’s bed coz I am very on board with the idea of C. Brooks living in that loft for a while for many reasons). Bring on lusty Charles and I kid you not I let out a little scream of delight at Liza noting his excitement and then heading straight for the cab (yes Charles, she is just going to leave you like this). Thank you Joe Murphy for the ep and the book title combo so Liza could remind Charles competition is stiff out there while glancing at his crotch and telling him to take care of the third leg himself, you truly are doing God’s work. And I’m just all ‘round loving seeing these two adults in a relationship being flirty and lustful and open with one another.

I have to put it out there that Liza’s hustle game is so damn strong this whole ep and as she is questioned by Kelsey and Diana about how Charles is getting all these authors, I a) am very glad she does not blab, b) find it interesting that Kelsey assumes that Liza mustn’t know if she hasn’t told her and c) wonder why Liza is the only one who seems to understand that other publishing houses will be vying for books and that Millennial will lose some fair and square. But Liza once again has another potential author lined up in the musical prodigy turned conductor Gloria Rivera, but this is Younger, we’ve had lots of fun, flirty and funny, so it must be time for the drah-mah.

The moment Liza ran into Charles at the concert I think we all knew the competition might have just about run its course, and I had legit second-hand embarrassment as Liza so confidently gloated she had been in touch with Gloria ‘for months’ in response to Charles’ knowing her ‘quite well’, though Charles clearly wanted to explain further as he said he wanted to talk after the show before the lights go down and Liza needs to get to her seat. Insert appropriate amount of unimpressed for both Kelsey and Diana and it all goes south pretty quickly once Diana discovers that Gloria was the recipient of the Brooks family Arts Scholarship so knowing Charles ‘pretty well’ is a bit of an understatement.

Now I get that it must feel like a series of blows and I also get that we need a way for Kelsey and Diana to be at the axe throwing bar so that whole scene can play out, but for them to both bail on Liza and not even try to convince Gloria to sign with Millennial, I mean, you’re not going to get any authors with that attitude ladies. At this point Liza should just bail and start her own damn company, give it a great name starting with ‘M’, maybe Majesty? Mendacity? Or Mitosis and she can just expand quickly and open identical offices all over the place? Either way, Liza had no time for Charles’ girlfriend game post-show (and it is clear here that to Charles it is still just a game and he hasn’t quite clocked that to Liza this is her career being compromised).

While I think Diana and Kelsey leaving Liza to make a last ditch pitch to Gloria solo was a low blow, seeing them together, rage throwing axes while drunk (I both love and am terrified of the idea of people drinking and axe throwing in one place FYI) was pretty damn great. These two are always so messy together and Diana taking off her earrings and prepping only to have such a terrible axe throw was only surpassed by her saying that she tells people Enzo is a surgeon which is why he’s on call and Kelsey offering up that they both wear gloves. LOL. And Diana Trout peeing beside a dumpster is one thing I never thought I’d see on this show, yet here we are and her ‘I don’t know her’ and running away from the cop when Kelsey produces the axe was ridiculous and excellent and a great excuse for some chin-skin holding mugshots.

My one gripe at the mo is the ongoing distrust Kelsey has of Liza, first at the axe bar asking Diana if she thinks Liza is helping Charles land these authors and then when Liza turns up after Enzo has bailed them (can we just pause a moment to appreciate the ongoing mafia jokes since their first date and also Enzo calling Diana a jailbird and her smitten reaction. I heart it all). Seriously, this is just yawn at this point and while I get that Kelsey is scared (and thank you Liza for pointing out that she’s not the only one) surely Liza is over having to prove time and time again how loyal she is only to have Kelsey continue to question it? I know I am. Again, Liza – ‘Mitosis’. Think about it.

Our Maggie moment this ep is of course just prior to the déjà vu of Liza and Josh chilling on the couch with Gemma, a little throw-back to the cacao-induced dream from last season’s finale. But I gotta say, my heart hurt for Charles when he walked into that awkward af loft situation, because while I have no doubt that Liza is solid in her feelings for Charles, seeing your girlfriend in a super domestic looking moment with her ex has to feel like a kick in the guts. I want to bottle the look Liza gave Josh when he said ‘you two seem good’ because if I could whip that out on demand, it would be mighty useful.

The final moments of this week’s ep certainly heightened the drama all round. I feel like this episode really highlighted the insecurity of both Kelsey and Charles, which puts Liza in the interesting position of having to navigate this with two people she loves but also put her foot down for her own sake at some stage. Liza immediately quashes any concerns Charles may have about being in competition with Josh and uses the baby’s inability to talk ergo. steal authors as a way to broach the ongoing company rivalry. As Charles reveals that Gloria will be signing with Millennial, it is evident it is all still a bit of a game to him (though him saying that all he cares about is that he doesn’t lose her, ugh *heart emoji*) until his true take on it all is revealed, that he sees it all as shared victories rather than rivalry. Eeek, I tell you, I get and appreciate the dick theme of this episode but I struggle with the dick line ‘when you get to the bottom line, it’s still all me’ so much. I had an actual physical reaction to how awful this was and it certainly was not something I imagined this character saying. Yet I do think it also gives credence to the type of man Pauline said she was married to.

It felt insecure, like he was trying to talk himself up in some kind of misguided attempt to sound impressive, but it also was a glimpse of the man whose ambition contributed to the demise of his marriage. Pauline herself said that when they got married she thought they would be a team but right away it was all about Charles and she was there just to be his rock (S5E3). The difference now of course is that unlike Pauline, Liza has called him out on it and in the final second, the expression on Charles’ face (it’s gutted for those playing at home) is hopefully one of realisation that he is repeating behaviours of the past and that moving forward, we see that realisation play out and this character develop.

I have no idea how the rest of this season is going to play out but you know what all this drama and intrigue pave the way for? Growth. Liza’s growth as she becomes more sure of herself and her right to decide and demand what she wants and deserves, who she wants, what she will and won’t stand for, Charles to learn from past mistakes and work to redeem those and think about the kind of man and partner he wants to be, no character’s growth has been as glorious to see unfold up until now as Diana’s and I’m sure this will continue and Kelsey...well I’m sure hers will come. We’re almost halfway people and season six is proving to be quite the ride.

#youngertv #younger tv #ramble #review #6x02 #liza miller #charles brooks #kelsey peters #diana trout #liza x charles #diana x enzo #team charles #younger season 6

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supposed2bfunny · 6 years ago

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At Times it is Sweet

Birthday fic for Russel!!!

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions of drug and alcohol use, depression, violence, character depth, the usual Russel stuff. Feel free to ask me to tag anything!

Brooklyn, 1980

The sound of ten feet slapping their way over the creaky floors of the Hobbs’s railroad apartment is nearly deafening. Typically he’d be in a lot of trouble for running in the house, but Russel is pleased to find that he and his four friends are off the hook since it’s his birthday.

“Red Power Ranger go!” he shouts, whipping around the corner, hurtling himself down the basement steps into the den, which is family reverently refers to as the ‘Music Room’ due to the keyboard, the several guitars hung up on the wall, and his father’s beloved collection of vinyl, complete with his 1967 Pioneer that still plays as smoothly as it did when his father was a boy.

“Green Power Ranger, go!”

“Blue Power Ranger, go!”

“Black Power Ranger, go!”

“Silver Power Ranger, go!”

His friends traipse down the stairs after him, and Russel sets his juice box down on the coffee table to assess the room for any bad guys, any imminent danger that they’ll have to fight using their powers, just like in the show.

“Russel,” his mother’s voice comes downstairs. “Daddy doesn’t want you down there with your friends. Come upstairs and we can do cake!”

His friends look at him, torn between the desire to stay in the cool basement, to admire the vintage band posters and shiny instruments, and the desire to go upstairs and imbibe more sugar.

Not one to disrespect his mother, Russel nods. “Okay, guys, we can go back upstairs. But later we have to check the backyard to make sure there aren’t any bad guys.”

Again the apartment is filled with the cacophony of tiny feet on wooden stairs, and as he makes his way up, Russel glances over his shoulder at the Hi-C juice box sitting on the table without a coaster.

His lone act of defiance, he thinks, filling a thrill. Five is going to be a good year.

Brooklyn, 1992

“Okay, big boy, I need you to keep those eyes shut tight and take a bite of this and tell me what you taste.” The excitement in Del’s smooth voice is palpable, and it brushes up against the underside of Russel’s nerves in the most delicious way.

He obeys his friend’s orders, keeping his eyes closed as he takes a forkful of whatever Del has placed in front of him. They’re in a diner, so, vast though the menu may be, he’s fairly certain that whatever he’s about to taste is in fact food, and not some sick trick that his prankster of a friend has concocted.

He always gives Del the benefit of the doubt.

Even though they’re currently all the way under the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, somewhere in south Williamsburg where there seem to be more bars than streetlamps and more drunken, stumbling college students than bars. Every few minutes the sound of a taxi can be heard blaring as someone stumbles out into the crosswalk without looking both ways.

It’s bustling and messy and not at all Russel’s scene. But hey, this diner is playing some Curtis Mayfield, so it’s not all bad. The fries were nothing great, sure, but he enjoyed his turkey club and Del shared his fried shrimp basket. And Del has laughed—not chuckled, but full-body, shoulders back, head heavenfacing, knees wobbling apart as he shakes with mirth laughed—three whole times in the course of the meal.

So he’ll do whatever Del wants to keep the night rolling.

He opens his mouth and it’s soft and sweet and creamy.

“Mm.”

“You taste that, Russ?”

“Yeah,” he says around a tongueful of icing.

“You know what that is?”

“Cake?”

“No shit, Sherlock, really taste it.”

“Mm. Oh! This is,” Russel opens his eyes, just a tad surprised to find Del’s eyes immediately locking on his own, intense and somehow feeling closer than a plastic table apart.

“Real buttercream icing!” he practically shouts. Del has a tendency to shout in diners. He has a tendency to shout most of the time. “It’s not that Crisco shit you get at most places, baby! My buddy works at a print shop in Williamsburg, and he comes around here sometimes after hitting up the bars on weekends. He told me the owner’s wife, she makes these cakes herself every day. That’s homemade, only diner left in Brooklyn that can still claim that!”

Russel is having a hard time swallowing while laughing, but he finally manages. “You’re unbelievable. I can’t believe you dragged me all the way out here for this.”

Del raises a brow. “You saying it’s not delicious?”

Something about the way he tilts his head to look at Russel through his eyelashes, at the way he brushes his dreads back off his broad shoulders as he speaks, something about the way Del’s personality radiates from their cramped booth into every crevice of the sleepy diner makes Russel’s chest constrict slightly in that moment.

“It’s the best cake I’ve ever had,” he says earnestly.

And Del is smiling again, drumming his fists on the table in glee. “Should I order some milk, birthday boy?”

Essex, 1997

When Murdoc passes him the blunt, he takes a hit without hesitation, only to find his eyes watering and his lungs burning as though he just inhaled a mouthful of acetone.

“The fuck is that?” he coughs and his head swims, oh, does his head swim.

Murdoc cackles. “Mate, I don’t ask questions, I just tell my guy to give me whatever the kids are smoking these days. Y’know, when I was a lad, weed was weed. They didn’t mix any synthetic shit in there, and it mellowed you out good.”

“When you were a lad?” Paula scoffs, plopping down into 2D’s lap, a beer in each hand, “when was that, the 1920s?”

“You should talk, Cracker,” he snaps, leering at her. “Your tits are sagging like you’ve already nursed a few tykes.”

“Hey, hey,” 2D wraps a protective arm around Paula’s waist, taking the beer she offers him and knocking back half the bottle in a gulp. “Eyes off my girlfriend, Murdoc. Paula, don’t pick on Muds, okay?”

She snorts and Murdoc grunts, putting his boots up on the coffee table, legs crossed daintily at the ankle.

“So you’re not going to get high with me, Russ. Well, what can we do then to make it a good day for you?”

Despite Murdoc’s less than enthusiastic tone, Russel is secretly touched that all three of his bandmates have made such a fuss about him today. He’s never been good at running the show though, and he doesn’t really have any wild expectations. England still doesn’t feel like home to him, and compared to the proximity of Brooklyn and Manhattan, getting to the bustle of London from Essex feels like a voyage that his friends’ attention spans simply couldn’t hold up to.

Clubbing! Del’s voice suggests somewhere in the back of his mind. See what kind of dance music these tea-drinking limeys like so we can toss it into the album!

“Honestly, just having drinks with you all is enough for me,” he answers demurely, and he can feel Del deflate in his brain. It’s fine; as soon as the conversation shifts, his ghostly friend’s voice will be there again. Del can never stay silent for long. “Okay, actually, here’s my birthday wish: I think we should play ‘It’s Coming On’” at the gig we have this Friday.”

“Absolutely not,” Murdoc snaps. “Can’t you just ask to go to a club or something instead?”

“Why not?” Paula challenges the bassist instantly, and 2D’s brows furrow together and he reaches over his girlfriend’s lap for the painkillers he always keeps nearby. “It’s a good song, it’s not too hard to play. We’ve got most of the lyrics ironed out.”

“Because a major component of the song is Russel’s haunted head! We don’t know how to control when he pops out: what if we go to play and he doesn’t show up? That’s two minutes faceache’ll have to improvise, and the kid can’t even tie his shoe laces.”

“Your fault,” the singer mumbles around a few pills, though he doesn’t look Murdoc in the eye when he says it.

“Del will come out,” Russel says firmly. He can feel rather than hear the excitement bubbling in the corners of his mind. Del is pleased. “He pops out at random sometimes, sure, but he’s never not come up during rehearsal when we need him. We go out on a stage, I guarantee he’ll be there to drop bars so hot your ears’ll burn.”

“Not sure that sounds the least bit pleasant,” Murdoc replies. “Gotta work on your pitch, big boy.”

“Here’s a thought though,” Paula cuts in, “what if Ghost Man pops out and we can’t get him to er, go back in? We’ll have no drummer for the rest of the show.”

“We could end with the song.”

“That’s still banking on him coming out when we need him to,” Murdoc insists. “If he doesn’t show, our grand finally looks rubbish. Russel, you’re great, and your spiritual possession makes you a bloody amazing musician, mate. Plus, I love the aesthetic of having a haunted bloke in my band, really. But it’s my band. I’m not jeopardizing our first gig that isn’t pure shit to satisfy your ego trip.”

“What if we can learn to control Del before the gig?” 2D asks.

“Who?”

“Del,” Russel repeats. “It’s his name. I’ve told you this, Murdoc. And 2D’s got a point. What if we can figure out to how control his comings and goings before the gig, would you give it a shot then? I really think ‘Coming On’ is one of the strongest songs we’ve got right now.”

Murdoc takes another hit, and, having tasted and felt what he’s smoking, it distresses Russel just slightly how his eyes don’t water the least bit, how completely unaffected he seems by the powerful stuff. “Might be worth a shot…”

“Then I can play the melodica!” 2D pipes up happily, jostling Paula slightly.

She slides off his lap to sit beside him. “One week for the four of us to tame a ghost. Brill.”

Beaming, Russel reaches for another beer. Trying to hack his own mysterious possession can wait until he’s a little more tipsy.

“Oi, a toast to the birthday boy!” 2D says, leaning forward and holding up his bottle.

“To Russel!” Paula agrees cheerfully.

“To the bloody best drummer in all of Essex!” Murdoc croaks, holding up his half-drunk bottle of whiskey.

“And hey, to the band,” Russel says, clinking his bottle against three more. “The future is coming on!”

“Ha! Good one Russ,” 2D beams.

Murdoc finds the joke so hilarious that he collapses back into his chair in a fit of giggles. Maybe he’s feeling the effects of all that weed after all.

Pacific Ocean, 2010

He doesn’t think much anymore. It’s not a sharp pain like when his hand split open on glass after Del was shot to death in his car. It’s more of a prickly presence, like sunburn.

Burning. His skin is probably burning in the sun. He could go underwater to hide from the sun; the water is cool and inviting as he floats along on his back. Then he won’t burn.

But it’s so dark below the surface, and if he can’t see, and if sound is muffled by water in his ears, and if every inch of his skin is covered in the same film of saltwater carrying him somewhere south of Argentina, somewhere light pollution ceases to be a concern, somewhere land ceases to be, then what will he feel?

And if he can’t feel, he might have to think.

No, today he will not die. Because a seagull found him where he was hiding in the United States, rotting himself from the inside out on sleepers, and the bird told him that Noodle was alive, that he just had to jump into the ocean, and he could save her.

No sign of Noodle, but that doesn’t mean he won’t run into her. Perhaps she’ll be floating along, sunburned and sleepy too.

He doesn’t think much, so he tries to focus on feeling. In the past day or so, he has begun to go numb save for the sensation of heat on his skin and water on his back. Instead of swallowing saltwater until he sinks to the bottom, he decides to focus on how he feels inside rather than outside, and comes up blank.

He is not sad. Noodle is alive, the seagull told him so, so the grief he’d felt in his body for months and months is pointless. He is not happy. That’s nothing new. He can’t remember what that feels like and it is far too much effort to search for that memory. He is not angry.

Well.

Anger could be a word to describe what he feels about Murdoc disappearing, only to pop up on Twitter talking about making a new album without him. That’s a sting, sure, something blackish red behind his eyes when he closes them, but since anger, and none of these feelings, have any outlets, so he tries to let them go. So much for passing the time.

Something rumbles, and his white eyes scan the sky for clouds, finding none.

Ah. He is hungry. That’s his stomach.

It’s been a lot of days since he’s eaten. It was just before Memorial Day when he jumped into the water, and back in the good old US of A, millions of families have no doubt already had their barbeques. He tries to remember the smell of charcoal, of boiled corn and hamburgers.

It makes his stomach hurt.

His birthday has probably passed, he realizes. Not that it matters. It just would have been nice to have had some company to acknowledge it to. He used to enjoy this time of year, the beginning of summer, the greenification of the earth as bushes and trees and flowers all turned verdant. It had once made him feel hopeful, alive.

But that’s right: he’s already estimated that he’s way down the southern hemisphere. It’s winter here, not summer. He smiles bitterly, and something akin to a laugh shoots out of this throat. It’s an ugly, horrible sound, and with only the slosh of the waves, it reverberates in his head for hours.

Detroit, 2019

“Sit down here, Russel,” Noodle instructs, pointing to the plush recliner in the Spirit House. She’s practically skipping with excitement, one of those ridiculous pointed birthday hats on her head. “We’re going to do presents soon!”

Cigar in mouth, Russel obeys, chuckling as she almost slams into Ace as he makes his way out of the kitchen, sporting a matching hat and a pair of pink oven mitts. “What happened to the candles I bought?” he asks, looking panicked. “We gotta do cake before we do presents, and I can’t find the candles anywhere! I left them right on the counter in the kitchen next to Dee’s Buddha statue and now they’re gone—”

“Don’t get you knickers in a twist,” Murdoc cuts him off, striding into the room in his hole-filled striped sweater and grey skinny jeans. He places a small packet in one of Ace’s mitted hands. “Here you go. Found them by the stovetop; someone must’ve moved them.”

“Thanks boss,” the taller man responds, sounding relieved.

Russel puts his feet up on the ottoman, catches Noodle giving Murdoc a suspicious look before snatching the packet from Ace. “These are prank candles, Murdoc. The kind that won’t go out.”

“Actually they’re essentially sparklers,” the bassist replies with a guilty shrug. “Thought it’d be funny.”

Noodle smacks Murdoc’s arm and storms off with her confiscated candles, muttering to herself in Japanese. Russel puffs at his cigar and tries to hide his smile: with the addition of Ace, their home has become even more chaotic, but it’s highly entertaining. Before he can catch whether or not Murdoc is going to reveal what he did with the candles Ace bought, 2D enters the living room with a large purple bag and plops down on the couch nearest to the recliner.

“Proper Cuban, that?” he asks, pointing to the smoke.

“You know it, Dee. Nothing but the finest. Want a puff?”

“No thanks. Trying to stick to the vape as often as possible. It’s easier on the lungs than cigarettes and such.”

“Well technically you’re not supposed to hold the cigar smoke in your lungs, Dee.”

“I understand that,” he replies, fiddling with the ribbons on the gift bag, “but I don’t trust myself not to do that. So Russ, really, is there anything else that we can do to make this birthday perfect for you? I feel like this is so…simple.”

The drummer smiles, crosses his legs at the ankles. “I’ve seen the way rockstars party. It isn’t for me. I’m being completely sincere when I tell you that all I want, truly, all I want, is to spend time with my family. Some drinks, some good food, that’s it.”

He doesn’t bother telling 2D that this is the first birthday in years that he didn’t wake up in bed feeling paralyzed with anxiety. Or that he has dreamt of windmills falling out of skies and green ocean waves and tasted saltwater so many times that the sound of Murdoc and Ace arguing is welcome relief. It seems pointless to tell 2D that he’s had a Bob Marley song stuck in his head all morning. Or that he plugged in his old iPod today, the one he hasn’t touched since 2005, to remember some of the jams he used to work out to in the mornings when Kong was still his home.

“Russ, as long as that’s what you want, we’re all happy to celebrate like this with you,” the singer promises with a smile, placing a hand on Russel’s shoulder and squeezing lightly.

“Thanks. Forty-four, man, big year. I got big plans ahead.”

“Oh really? You thinking music-wise, or something else?”

Russel’s smile widens and he leans in a little closer. 2D will be the first person to hear him confide his newest and most ambitious goal yet. “I’m thinking a foundation,” he admits. “Starting one myself. A non-profit to bring music to disadvantaged youth. I’ve got some friends who’ve worked for non-profits before who said they can help me get if off the ground.”

“Russ that’s huge!” 2D gasps, slapping the arm of the couch in excitement. “We’ll help too! With funding, with travel, Muds can probably help connect us to some producers who might know others who can help out!”

“I was planning on asking you all for help today. That’s my big birthday request, my next goal in life.”

The singer smiled and pointed to the bag on his lap. “You’ll still want the dress I got you too though, right? Very pretty, my mum helped me pick it out.”

He eyes the bag eagerly, suddenly wanting very much to start presents soon even though he had told himself earlier that day that he didn’t need anything more material in this world. “I’ll…I’ll still take the dress, yeah. Thanks buddy.”

“Cake time!” Ace crows, making his way out, carrying a very large, impressive cake on a try, candles alight on top. True to Ace’s perfectionist nature, the cake is one of the most beautiful things Russel has ever seen that wasn’t commissioned by a professional baker. Blue and purple icing create cloudlike flowers, and the top of the cake looks like a bass drum with Russel’s name etched across it in script. “Hey boss, get your ass inside, you can smoke later! Time for happy birthday!”

“Wait till you try this,” Noodle says, leaning in to hug Russel tight as Ace sets the cake down on the coffee table and Murdoc rushes in from his smoke break in the backyard. “Ace is a great baker. Real buttercream icing. Like nothing you’ve ever tasted!”

She goes to pull back, but he pulls her into one last hug, hearing 2D “awww” beside him.

“Thanks for gathering the troops,” he tells her.

“Russel, we’re family,” she replies. “It’s our pleasure to be here with you today. To celebrate.”

“Well then,” the drummer sets his cigar down in an ashtray and leans in to blow out the candles. “Let’s celebrate.”

#russel hobbs #gorillaz #gorillaz fanficiton #russel fanfiction #i'll post my fic for 2doc week tonight don't worry!#i love this man so much okay #ps this almost had some side nuace but i wanted to keep shipping mostly out of it :3 #beck's fics

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thesecretfandom · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter Fourty-Two: Runaways - Bughead

Word Count: 3,570

Rated: G

A/N: 3x06 Fix-it or my 3x07 Headcannon. (Read on AO3)

"B, I have tried calling you a thousand times. I've got a major Archie crisis and I need your help." In her frustration, Veronica nearly threw her phone out the window.

Something was very, very wrong. Betty always called back after the third missed call. And it's not like it's been only a few hours… it's been an entire weekend. After leaving her fifth message, she was prepared to pull out the big guns and face Alice Cooper in the flesh.

It was dark when Veronica arrived at the Cooper household. The light from the street lamps were all she had to find her way. Even the light from Betty's window was turned off, though she new Betty slept with the light on. The light chased away the demons that haunted her dreams, and Veronica didn't blame her. There were a lot of sinister things lurking in the dark streets of Riverdale.

"Betty? Mrs. Cooper?" She knocked on the door, but knew it was for naught. Clearly, no one was home. She tried the handle, but the door was locked. A locked door was no problem for Veronica Lodge, though. In fact, breaking and entering was becoming her signature move.

Veronica snuck around to the side of the house. She'd never entered the house this way, but she knew for a fact that a ladder was hidden in the hedges beneath Betty's window. Her suspicions were confirmed when she set the ladder up leading to Betty's window and climbed to the top. The window was unlocked, no doubt for a certain Jones boy to sneak through.

Her bedroom looked untouched. Her laptop was sat on her desk, her backpack slung over a chair. Most shockingly, her Serpent jacket hung on a hook behind her bedroom door. If she was on a mission, especially at this time of night, she'd have that jacket with her.

The door to Mrs. Cooper's room was locked, making it all the more enticing to pick the lock. Betty had taught her well and Veronica had the door open in a moment. The room looked exactly as Veronica would imagine. The floral duvet was perfectly folded over the bed with at least five decorative pillows.

"Where would Alice Cooper hide clues?" Veronica glanced in the closet, but wasn't quite prepared to tackle that disaster. Instead, the side table seemed like the most likely hiding place. She wasn't looking forward to digging through a recently divorced, middle-aged woman's side table drawer, but for Betty she would do just about anything.

Thank God, she found nothing strange other than Betty's cell phone. She reached to pick it up and a post-it note fluttered to her feet.

Safe at Sisters

Suddenly, it all became clear. Alice had a history of hiding her problems at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy and this time, it seemed, Betty was her biggest problem.

"Oh my God, Jughead! That bastard is with Archie!" In all of her distraught over Archie being gone, she hadn't even thought about where Jughead might be. If he were in Riverdale, he would have surely noticed Betty's absence and gone to find her already.

She whipped out her phone, suddenly grateful she hadn't thrown it out the window earlier that day.

"Jughead Jones, I know where you are and if you hang up on me I swear to God I will burn this entire town to the ground."

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They hadn't made it far in a day and a half. The stretch of railroad seemed never ending, and with Archie's injury they couldn't walk at quite the pace Jughead had hoped. They only made it as far as Centerville when his phone started to ring.

That must be Betty calling him back. He'd left her a message, telling her he was on a roadtrip with Archie and would be back in a week.

When he picked up his phone, he instead saw Veronica's name on his caller ID.

"Veronica?"

"Jughead Jones, I know where you are and if you hang up on me I swear to God I will burn this entire town to the ground."

"Wait, what?"

"I know you're with Archie."

"Archie isn't here… I don't know where he is."

Archie was shaking his head vigorously on the other side of the tracks, mouthing 'I'm not here.'

"Cut the bullshit, Jones. I think Betty's in trouble, so I need both of you to get your asses back to Riverdale right now."

Jughead suddenly forgot where he was and where he was going. All thoughts reverted back to Betty, and the declined phone call from two nights ago.

"We'll turn back around right now, but what…?"

"Dude, I'm not here… remember?"

"Archie, I love you like a brother, but I need you to shut your goddamn mouth or I will rip out your stitches and leave you here to die."

"Dude, harsh…"

"Veronica, what's wrong? Where's Betty?"

"I think she's at the Sisters, we need to get her out right now."

"Veronica, I need you to get a car and pick us up at the Centerville bus station. Bring the Serpents."

"I don't think that's a great idea, this needs to be a covert operation."

"Cheryl and Toni then. They know the place." Jughead was frantic, and Archie's confused glances were only annoying him further. "Hurry, Veronica."

"Ok, I'll be there soon."

As soon as he hung up the phone, Jughead ripped his beanie off his head and threw it to the ground. Archie watched him as he paced, stomping back and forth beside the tracks. "Fuck!"

"Jug, please tell me what's going on."

His fingers tugged at his hair, the words in his head unable to be formed into sentences. "She's at the Sisters. Fuck! Next time I see Mrs. Cooper I swear to God, I'm gonna…"

"The Sisters? You mean the group home?"

"That's not what it is!" Jughead bit back. He knew the shady dealings of the Sisters, and Betty was not receiving any real therapy there. "It's a demented asylum, hell bent on brainwashing anyone unfortunate enough to be sent there. Illegal therapies, forced treatments… Polly was sent there when she was pregnant, and so was Mrs. Cooper. God dammit, how could she do this to her?"

Jughead was raving at this point, but he'd snatched his beanie back and yanked it over his head. It was just another mile forward to the Centerville train station, and the bus station was on the other side of the street. If Archie could pick up the pace just a little bit, they'd get there in twenty minutes.

"Okay, Jug. It's going to be okay. We're gonna get her out of there."

"I'm getting her out of there." Jughead picked up a fist sized rock and chucked it into the trees. A frustrated, strangled sort of scream ripped from his throat. "Then I'm burning that place to the ground."

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It had been only a day and a half that she'd been locked in here. Her mother was on her mind, but not because Betty missed her. It was because Betty knew this was it. This was the last tie her mother had to break before losing her forever. She couldn't go back home when she got out of here.

It wouldn't take long for Jughead to find her. When he found her missing from home, he'd know where her mother had sent her. It was the only explanation as to why she wouldn't have told him where she was going.

That's what she kept telling herself, but as her second night in the cement block prison cell approached she worried about what kind of trouble Jughead could have gotten himself into. Maybe he'd been playing the game and ascended. Or maybe he'd confronted Hiram or the Ghoulies again.

She was being walked from the cafeteria to her 'room,' which she preferred to refer to as her cell. The windows were few and far between, but she could tell it was just past dusk. The last traces of the sunset still lingering in the sky.

Room 307 was too high to jump from, even if she thought she could get past the guards without a distraction. The door was locked with a deadbolt on the outside, so she couldn't even pick her way out. Her only chance was for someone to unlock it from the outside.

She moved quickly as they approached her door. Betty had managed to keep the ponytail holder she'd been wearing when they brought her in, and a bobby pin she'd hidden under her tongue. Hooking the bobby pin onto the ponytail, she wrapped it around the door handle as the nun walking with her unlocked the deadbolt.

The tears only came when the door was locked behind her and she was finally alone again. She sat on the windowsill, sobbing into her knees. She was already broken in so many ways, and too much time in this place might take the last of the fight out of her.

"Juggie, please hurry."

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Veronica pulled up to the Centerville bus station in FP's beat up old truck and the two Jones' bikes in the truck bed. Two boys sat outside on a bench. While Archie was hiding his signature red hair under a hideous baseball cap, there was no disguising his jawline. She felt a mix between anger and relief upon seeing him again, but pushed the feeling aside when she finally jumped out of the truck.

As she approached the boys, Toni and Cheryl rode up on the back of the former's bike.

Jughead was on his feet as soon as the truck came into view. Veronica tried to stop him, to tell him her plan, but he marched past her to the truck as Archie slumped behind him, avoiding eye contact with Veronica.

"I'll deal with you later." She said with a glare. "Meanwhile, Jughead… Toni and I have broken in and escaped with Cheryl in the past, so I'm thinking you drive the getaway bike?"

"Not a chance in hell, Veronica. I'm going in." Jughead dug in the back of the truck and pulled out the two Serpent jackets. "Where'd you get Betty's jacket?"

"I broke in to her room using that handy ladder you keep beneath her window." Veronica slipped on her own black jacket as she climbed into the truck.

"Are we getting this show on the road or what?" Cheryl almost seemed bored at this point.

"Let's do it, but… what plan did you all formulate anyway?"

"I'll tell you on the way, but let's get going." Veronica was in the middle seat already, Jughead and Archie piled in on either side.

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

Jughead let the truck coast to a stop, lights off, at the edge of Fox Forest. Cheryl and Toni parked further in the woods, where the tunnel they'd used during their last breakout ended. The two girls would break in, undercover in the uniforms Cheryl had escaped in. They'd cause a distraction in some far corner of the building, allowing Jughead and Veronica to sneak in and find Betty.

"And what I'm I doing, exactly?" Archie asked once again.

"If they chase, you are the decoy. Take off in the truck and make sure they're following you."

Archie looked disgruntled at his duty, but didn't say anything as he let Veronica out of the truck.

"Sit tight, pal." Jughead clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll be back in no time."

Veronica followed Jughead, pushing one of the bikes silently around the tree line. "You're sure we can get in on this side?"

"No," Jughead admitted. "But Betty and I got in this way last year when we came back the night Polly first disappeared."

"We'll make do."

They parked the bikes and set their sights on a forgotten side door. Jughead knew there was a stairway just inside the door, and if the distraction goes well they shouldn't be stopped by any guards along the way. Now to wait for a signal from Toni and Cheryl.

"Just in case the door has been locked, do you have a bobby pin handy?" Jughead asked, his eyes not leaving the door.

"Of course I do. Betty has taught me well."

The sound of shattering glass at the other end of the building shocked them into action. The two ran up and waited for frantic footsteps to disappear before they broke in. Jughead tried the door handle, but his gut hadn't lied. The door was locked.

"How fast can you pick it?"

"Faster than you can." Veronica pulled a bobby pin from her hair, making quick work of the lock.

They moved up one level to the lobby, where the usual check-in desk sat abandoned. Veronica hopped over the desk and was already flipping through a binder labeled 'Check-Ins.'

Jughead yanked the binder from her hands, eager to do something. He couldn't just stand there like an idiot. He found the previous day's check ins. There couldn't be many…

"There." He jabbed his finger at the number next to her name. "Room 307."

"What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Veronica made a move to hop back over the desk, when Jughead caught sight of two night guards rounding the corner.

"Shh!" Jughead ducked around the corner. "Veronica, find a way out and wait at the bikes. I'm getting Betty."

Jughead sprinted toward the nearest staircase.

"Jughead!" Veronica tried to follow, but the two men were too close now and she couldn't escape without being seen.

The third floor was dead silent. And with no markings pointing toward the rooms, he had to try two different hallways before finding 301...302… finally, halfway down the hall he found 307. Already, he could feel the impending doom of being caught before he could get her out.

"Betty?" Jughead knocked lightly on the door. "Are you in there?"

Shuffling footsteps and a few sniffles approached the door. "Jug?"

"Thank fuck." Jughead let out a sigh of relief, but he wasn't in the clear yet. If only he had a… there, wrapped around the door handle, was a ponytail holder with a bobby pin attached. "Betty you're a genius."

"Jug? What's happening?" Betty sounded closer now, only a few inches of metal separated them. "I heard a crash earlier."

"No time to explain. Just hope our distraction stalls them long enough." He almost had the lock, just one more click would do it. "I think there are two guards coming this direction though. Got it!"

The satisfying click of the lock told Jughead he was in. He pulled the heavy door open and before he could even get a good look at her, Betty was in his arms. He could feel the tears on her cheeks as she buried her head in his neck. He held on to her for a long moment, as if she were too fragile to ever let out of his sight again. He slid the ponytail holder from his wrist to hers, a gesture she returned with a slight smile and quick kiss on his cheek.

"Oh shit…" Jughead saw the guards coming around the corner almost too late. He grabbed Betty's hand and ran to the end of the hallway, where the emergency exit led out onto a fire escape. Jughead ran ahead first, hopping the last few feet to the ground and letting Betty land in his arms as he helped her down.

"The bikes are on the side of the building, Veronica's waiting there… Hurry!"

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

Betty ran ahead of Jughead, but could feel his hands reaching out behind her. Offering up his protection if needed.

"Hey!" Betty glanced back fast enough to catch a glimpse of the guard who came sprinting out after them. She kept running, but Jughead steered them into the trees. "You can't hide!"

"No, but we can run." Jughead said under his breath. "Take my jacket and get on the bike. Go to the bunker."

Jughead shrugged off his jean jacket as they approached Veronica and the bikes.

"Betty!" Veronica let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God you're o-"

"No time, Veronica. We gotta go." Jughead hopped on his father's bike and pulled on his Serpent jacket. Veronica climbed on behind him, wearing Betty's jacket and hiding her hair under the helmet.

"Jug, wait!" Betty reached out to him. She'd' just been reunited with him, and now he was speeding away from her again.

"Betty, please." Jughead kissed her quickly on the forehead and pushed her back. "We'll meet you at the bunker."

Jughead revved up the bike and he and Veronica sped off in the opposite direction. Guards came running out of the front doors of the building now, followed by Sister Woodhouse.

"Catch that girl!" She shouted. "Follow them!"

Betty knew what Veronica and Jughead were doing, making her jailors believe that Betty was on the back of that bike. She watched until the bike had reached the trees on the other side of the clearing where the Sisters of Quiet Mercy stood as a dark, imposing shadow. The bike's engine cut suddenly, followed by the groaning start of a different engine.

FP's old blue truck knocked over a few signposts as it careened through the grass in front of the building. She couldn't see who was driving, and soon the truck disappeared back in the woods, following the dirt road that led back to the highway. The bike started again, and disappeared into Fox Forest. The guards split up, not sure which to follow.

Betty jumped on her bike and released the hand break. She rolled forward, they had left her to take the most direct path to the bunker. Betty took off, not bothering to look back. The bunker wasn't far…situated in an old, forgotten part of Fox Forest. It was far enough away that they wouldn't accidentally stumble upon it during the chase, but close enough that they wouldn't think she'd take refuge so near.

She didn't hear anyone following her, but took a long loop through the trees to make sure. She cut the engine and hid the bike under a patch of brush just fifty feet from the bunker entrance. She climbed into the bunker, the only place she felt safe anymore.

It looked exactly as she left it, save for Archie not laying crippled in the bed. Betty took a seat on the floor, her back against the ever growing Gargoyle King wall. She watched the door, counting down the endless minutes that passed as she waited.

She jumped when she heard the creaky door flip open.

"Jug?"

"Afraid not, dear cousin." Cheryl strutted into the room, Toni following close behind.

"You guys were a part of this?" Betty accepted a hug from both Cheryl and Toni. It felt forced, but she appreciated the human contact and familiar faces all the same.

"No Serpent left behind, right?" Cheryl said, looking back at Toni.

"We look after one another." Toni agreed, holding two fingers up in the Serpent salute.

Betty glanced behind them. "Are Veronica and Jughead with you?"

"No, we had a head start. Don't worry, they should be here soon."

The three girls sat in silence as they waited. Ten, then twenty minutes passed before they heard the door again. Archie slid down the ladder much more safely than he had the last time, landing hard on the metal floor.

"Archie!" Betty ran up to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. "Where's Jughead? And Veronica?"

"They aren't back yet?" He glanced behind her, seeing only the other two girls. "I thought they had a head start."

"I'm going out to look for them." Betty made a move for the door, but Archie stopped her.

"You can't. I'll go look."

Just as Archie turned to leave again, a pair of familiar black boots came down the ladder. "No need to look for us, we're here."

Betty fell into Jughead's arms as soon as his feet hit the ground, and let him pull her out of the way of the entrance. Veronica came down next, taking Archie's hand as he offered it up. Archie wrapped her in a hug, whispering against her hair.

"As interesting as this little love fest is…" Cheryl started. "Toni and I are going to leave for a little bit of our own privacy."

Betty stayed wrapped up in Jughead's arms as long as she could, but they had to figure out what came next. Archie was still recovering from his a nearly fatal wound and Betty couldn't return home now. Archie and Veronica sat with their arms around each other on one side of the room, while Betty and Jughead did the same sitting on the bed.

"I can't go home." Betty said finally, choking on a sob. Jughead held her tighter. "Not after my mom sent me to that place."

"We aren't going home." Veronica said. "B, I got some essentials for you. A change of clothes, toothbrush, hair brush. Just to get you through the night. Jughead and I are going back to town and will get enough stuff for all of us. Clothes, toiletries and all the cash we can find."

Jughead pulled Betty onto his lap. "We're leaving Riverdale."

She turned her head back to look at him. "For good?"

Jughead nodded, his eyes flicking from her eyes to her lips. "For good."

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

A/N: Definitely thinking of a Part 2... I want to know what would happen if these kids just skipped town to escape the drama. Anyone else? Hope you enjoyed and please let me know what you think! Also tried a new style for my cover edit, might do more like those in the future :)

#bughead #bughead fanfic #bughead fanfiction #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale #fix it fic #varchie #cheroni #soqm #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #riverdale fanfic

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frangipanidownunder · 6 years ago

Note

Prompt: Mulder & Scully make a wrong turn on the way back from a case and end up somewhere cool.

City of Souls: fic

What a great prompt - thanks! I’ve never been to Colma so all mistakes are mine. Set late season 6, before The Unnatural.

He spits a seed outthe window and turns to her. He’d rolled his sleeves up hours ago, flung histie over the back seat. It might be the end of a California summer but the heatis unrelenting. Sweat prickles at the creases of his elbows. Immaculate in herseat, Scully’s still all business. Whole and upright.

“When was the last time you worejeans, Scully?”

She doesn’t answer. He hates thesilence.

The sign reads ‘It’s Great to Be Alive in Colma’. He waits for her reaction. Nothing.He drives. On each side there are cemeteries. She’s drinking water and lookingout at the rows of uneven headstones. Thereare hills behind them, scratched brown from too much sun. Withered. He makes amental note not look back too often.

“Scully, do you prefer Gunfight atthe OK Corral, the 1957 classic western starring Burt Lancaster and KirkDouglas or Tombstone, the 1993 remakestarring Kurt Russell and Val Kilmer?”

He hears the creak of gristle in herneck as she turns towards him. There’s a tiny kink in her lips. Upwards. He letsout a slow breath.

“I haven’t seen either, although Iunderstand the cast of each movie was stellar. Maybe you can invite me over fora classic western movie night, Mulder. We can drink beer in our Levis and talklike John Wayne or Clint Eastwood.” She’s teasing him. And his skin stipples inappreciation.

“I see you with your hair tuckedunder a Stetson riding over the plains, outrunning and outshooting the outlaws,Sherriff Scully.”

Another cemetery looms ahead. Padgett is still a fresh nightmare. Herblood-soaked shirt stayed behind his eyes for weeks, a metallic tang taintedeverything he ate. He felt empty. Hollowed out, just like the bloodied chestsof the victims. Life scooped from them. Ribs yawed open, bones like gravestonesin rows. When she is quiet, he still feels empty.

He blinks away the image and turns to her. She relaxes into a smile,plays with a strand of that glorious hair. Now, he sees autumn sun, tastes theburnt edges of pumpkins, feels in his limbs the strange looseness of holidaysto come.

“Maybe we can spin our guns or crack our whips?” She’s still playing thegame and his heart thrums. And then she laughs. God, he loves that sound. Likethe pop of a vintage champagne cork, a surprise followed by perfection.“Mulder, why have we driven so many miles in the wrong direction?”

There’s another sign. Arrows to the town mall and the primary school andthe Cypress Lawn – Nobel Chapel. He turns towards the chapel.

“This is the City of Souls, Scully. Colma. Population 1500 livingresidents and 1.5 million souls. In1900, the city of San Francisco declared the land in the town too valuable forburying the dead. In 1914, they sent eviction notices to all the cemeteriesordering the dead to be removed and relocated. Colma was chosen as the ‘end ofthe line’ so to speak. And now there are 16 cemeteries here, including a petcemetery.”

She leans towards him, adjusts her seatbelt. She’s still holding on tothat smile. But he’s holding on to it tighter. Her cheeks are pink. “But whyare we here?”

He doesn’t tell her he feels like he’s lost his soul and in some improbableway he imagines that staying here will fill him up with new life, will give himback some of what he’s given away this year. Just like that psychic surgeonstealing away people’s beating hearts, Diana has sucked the very core out ofhim with her unending support and her sly smiles. He feels her grip chafing athim, marking his skin so that Scully sees betrayal like a scarlet letter. Hedoesn’t tell her anything like that, although he should. He should declare hisguilt to her so she can flog him with her righteousness. He doesn’t tell her,though.

“Haven’t you ever wanted to see where Joe DiMaggio is buried? Or Frank‘the crow’ Crosetti? Wyatt Earp? Levi Strauss?” Her fingers rub across herplump lips. “I see you aren’t quite as into this as I am,” he says and shebestows a gentle shake of her head on him, one that’s accompanied by a quietchuckle.

“I can’t say I am, Mulder but if you feel that visiting the graves offamous sports people or cowboys, is something you need to do, then knockyourself out. I’ll be happy with a cold beer and a steak. I’m hungry. And thistown is making me crave dead meat.”

He laughs then. She’s funny, his Scully. She metes out her jokes inincrements, measuring out the time between each beat so it’s not too long, nottoo short. She’s good with her timing, like that. Knows just when to step in, whento step back. He hasn’t learnt that yet. But this business with Diana hastaught him that jumping in blindly, just for support of some kind, is not whathe wants anymore. Not what he needs.

He turns into the cemetery, feels a shift in the air. It’s not mournful.There’s something serene about it, a quiet calm. It’s in the cooling of theharsh sun, it’s in the shush of the leaves, it’s in the melodic birdsong. Thedead enjoy the longest rest, but the living can come here and reset.

She’s out of the car before him, shucking off her jacket and shieldingher eyes from the lowering glare. California Scully is brighter in every way,he decides. Kaleidoscopic despite her penchant for black work-wear. Everythingelse about her is a melange of soft colours. He takes her in.

“Walk with me?” she asks and offers an elbow for him to hook his armthrough. He wonders if she understands the irony of promenading around acemetery while the dead lie still beneath them. He’s sure she does, but Scullydoesn’t mind irony. She doesn’t like duplicity. She just doesn’t like beingtaken for granted.

He watches their shadows pass the headstones, long thin versions ofthemselves stretching out in some ghoulish representation of life. He needs tolook back at her, see the tangible partner on his arm.

He tips his chin towards her. “Those who couldn’t pay the $10 evictionand relocation fee left their loved ones to be piled into mass graves.”

“It’s a cruel and undignified story,” she replies. “But death is oftenugly.”

Her shirt was wicking bright red as quickly as her skin paled. Hehesitated because in that moment he was sure she was gone, and he had let ithappen. His fucking arrogance had led her to the terror of a death like that.Her beating heart stolen from its hearth right there in his own home.

The warm surprise of her fingers clasping through his shook the pictureaway, dissolving the stark of red death into the muted tones of Scully’ssmiling face. She nods to a plaque on a large sculpted rock. He reads thedetails.

“When you were in that travel agency, with Duane Barry, I used thisman’s case to highlight the potentially dangerous misreading of the situation.It’s one of the clearest memories I have of that time.”

He takes in the information as she speaks.

“The Gage Accident. Phineas Gage was working on the railroad at Vermontwhen a tamping iron blasted upwards and pierced his skull from cheekbone totop.” She touches the spots on her own face and he watches the grace of herfingers. “Miraculously, he survived but his behaviour changed so much that hewas no longer the same man.”

It might not have taken an industrial accident to change him, butScully’s ferocious charge for justice, right by his side, has been just as redhot. She has stayed on the same damned path, never deviating, while he’spinballed from belief to doubt and all the while dragging her along with him.Exposing her to horrors. How has she remained the same? Fuck, he loves her forit. He loves her sameness, her unwavering Scully-ness. You know what you’regetting. You get what you see.

“I remember you talking about him,” he says. “I thought it would be goodto see the memorial. And we really weren’t that far away. It seemed the rightthing to do.”

She tucks her chin to her chest. “Well, it’s a very ‘us’ kind of thingto do, isn’t it? It’s a graveyard. It’s macabre. I’m only surprised that it’snot raining. It would be just the kind of after-case date we would indulge in.”She looks away quickly, licks her lips. “If this were a date.” The words arebreathed out, low.

He looks around at the graves, thinks about the dead beneath them, lyingsilent in repose. Souls departed, bodies left behind. Bones desiccating toashes. He thinks about Phineas Gage and Levi Strauss and Jo DiMaggio, how theirlives are still known. He looks back at Scully and she’s waiting for him tospeak. He can’t find any words to tell her how much he wants her life to beknown for centuries to come. There’s a glint of sunlight off the brass of theplaque and he squints as it flashes in his face. He shivers but lets the sensationwarm him, like heat from the inside, filling him.

“There’s a 50s style diner not far away,” he says, looking back at her face, where he sees hope, forgiveness and he feels his soul settle back inside. “Let’s get that steak, Scully.”

#txf fanfic #my fanfiction #todayinfic #prompt #softnow

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