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spookyspaghettisundae · 3 years

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And Awaken in a New One

Kim broke out of her trance when the car door slammed shut. She blinked and knew they had passed into the otherworld already. On the surface, it almost looked the same as the world they hailed from. But it had changed.

The blue covering the canvas of the sky around the horizon rippled gently, like a heavenly pond into which stones had been cast. The Hidden Deserts That Had No Name reflected bright light from everywhere and nowhere, with no sun to be seen, wherever she looked. The mountains in the distance refused to stand still and moved—ever so slightly, like the ebb and flow of an ocean lapping lazily at the shoreline of a beach.

The clouds drifting through the air coiled and began moving in the direction of where their car was parked. Like snakes, those clouds crawled towards them.

Although they moved slowly, their steady creeping told Kim to limit her time here.

The car slumped forward a tiny bit when the weight of Javi sitting on its hood depressed it. He was the one who had slammed the door shut and now he lit up a cigarette with a stainless steel lighter, flicking the little silvery thing shut in a fluid and practiced motion right when a puff of white smoke arose from his face.

Strange bushes topped the sands. Unlike the ones native to the Nevada desert from where they had crossed over into here, these plants featured purple color and shivered out of sync with the warm breeze sweeping over these rocky plains.

Javi took a drag from his cigarette, puffed it out with haste and pointed at the clouds. The car’s windows muffled his words, “Only a matter o’ time till those—whatever those are—till those things get to us.”

Kim got out of the car as well. Letting her gaze sweep across the sky above them made her dizzy and almost a bit sick to her stomach. The watery nature of the above offered no solid point to focus on and the unsteady mountains, too, refused to help.

The only thing that looked the same from their last visit: the old black tour bus of the band once known as The Lost Number, standing lonesome in the middle of this desert, caked in sand and beached like a steel whale. Like one of those anchors that existed in different timelines and dimensions, all tenuously connected by such rare universal constants.

She sat herself onto the hood next to Javi and plucked the cigarette from his fingers, then took a long drag from it. The words escaped her lungs like the smoke—scratchy and labored—when she said, “How long have you been a smoker?”

In the previous world, Javi had never smoked. One of many small details that had shifted, ever so slightly, when she returned from the House of Change—when the world was reborn.

“I started when I was, uh, like, eleven, I think?” he said with a shrugging twitch of his left shoulder.

“You not worried about cancer?” she asked while handing him back the cigarette and studying every inch of his face.

The messy black hair on his head and a burly stubble lining his sharp jaw framed a face as handsome as ever—that much had not changed. Plenty of reality’s details had stayed the same, at least on the surface. The eerie light of this otherworld sparkled in his dark eyes as he studied Kim with a curiosity to match her own.

His shoulder twitched again, accompanied by a tilt of his head as he replied, “Lotta things can kill me, and statistically speaking, I think one o’ these hunka-junks is gonna do me in first.”

Javi thrust out a thumb to the sports car they were sitting on. Although dirt and dried mud clung to its every surface, the fast vehicle standing still underneath them looked way too fancy for their budget.

“Look, not to be a pain in the—” he started, the thought trailing off. “You might wanna—”

His sentences kept dying halfway out of his mouth. She knew what he was getting at, his eyes darted up, towards sky, to underline that.

The clouds kept creeping. Ever closer. Like snakes in the water, homing in on them. On prey.

She nodded to him and peeled her eyes off of the living clouds, meeting his gaze again. Lingering there for a longing amount of time.

Kim wondered if she should ever tell him about all the things she noticed that had changed with the world. So many subtleties, so many curious details—so fascinating. And the more often she slept and the more she dreamt, the more the last world felt like a distant, fading memory. Javi would understand, she thought. But what was the point?

She wished none of the previous world back. Precious to some, meaningless to her. Some of the key differences to this one were all that mattered to her.

She pushed herself off the hood of the car and started walking towards the stranded tour bus. Mystified by how it had been taking less years to decay in this secret desert than would be natural.

“You want me to, uh?” he started muttering behind her.

“No, s'all good,” she breathed.

The closer she strayed towards the bleached black body of bus, the more her chest tightened.

It represented a cornerstone—or a pillar—the things that held the fabric of reality together despite any transitions from one world to the next. A bridge through space and time and likely the only reason that an invisible pocket of void connected our reborn world to this one, here. Now. And never.

Gunshot holes still pockmarked the walls of the bus, having been torn from the inside out. Other holes had been punched into it by long, dagger-like claws of an unspeakable creature.

The memory of Michael’s screams echoed in her mind. She stuffed back down whatever guilt that brought bubbling up, shoving it into the cellar of repressed memories and slamming the door shut.

Something else—something physical—slammed shut behind her, prompting her to pause and look back. Javi had removed a beaten up backpack from the trunk, sagging from his one hand, the cigarette in the other. He had started dragging his heel over the ground, drawing a crude circle into the sand around his car. The first step in crafting a ritual ward to keep otherworldly entities like ghosts and demons at bay.

He stopped for a second, looked up at her, and waggled his eyebrows with a twitch about the corners of his lips. As if to politely remind her to hurry things up.

She flashed a smile back at him and returned her attention to the abandoned tour bus. Only with delay did she notice how she had sucked in a good amount of air and was now holding her breath. Her whole body had tensed up.

Kim produced the revolver whose weight had been burning an imaginary hole into her leather jacket’s pocket, and gripped it tightly. She pulled the ajar door fully open and ascended the small stairs, entering the bowels of the steel husk. The door did not want to stand still and swayed in the wind, emitting high-pitched squeaks as its hinges creaked.

She raised her weapon and pointed it wherever she looked, wary of any threat that might be lurking in here.

But nothing awaited. Nothing hungry, and nothing alive, at the very least.

It all looked the same. A painful reminder of a recent past and distant memories alike.

Time had chewed up the dark red leather on the seats everywhere. Heaps of trash still littered the bus’ interior, matching the cliche of a rock star’s devastated hotel room.

Nails still pinned newspaper clippings to one wall, though some of them had fallen out and joined the junk on the floor. Reports of two men who had mysteriously gone missing—a Brent Carver and a Rick Sutton—members of the defunct indie rock band named “The Lost Number.” According to the jumble of clippings, only one band member had not vanished without a trace: Kevin Spilner.

Yet he only existed in the past now, and as far as Kim was concerned, would stay there.

Forever.

His mugshot, painfully familiar to her, still clung to one of the cut-out articles despite the ink’s slow process of fading. She did not like looking into the mirror and seeing that face anymore.

Although the rebirth of the world rendered memories of the previous one blurrier and fuzzier with the passage of time, flashes of that past life haunted her, flashing through her mind like the flashes atop old analog cameras.

How Brent and Rick disappeared out here in the desert, how no bodies were ever found, and how the police eventually released Kevin into the wild where he started a new life. And eventually found Kim.

The plastic of a broken CD case crunched underneath Kim’s shoe as she stepped over a pile of crumpled cans and walked deeper into the hopeless bus.

Nobody and nothing worthwhile here. As if she had been holding her breath all this time, she exhaled a deep sigh and lowered her gun, though her muscles refrained from relaxing. The tension remained.

She lifted her shoe and inspected the jewel case that had splintered underneath her step: an autographed copy of the EP, Sexy Vampire in the Basement by The Lost Number. The stylized photo of the three band members adorning its artwork, dressed like douchebags, replete with their faux hawk hairdos that had been the fashion du jour of any grunge band at the time.

It took her a second to realize the sharp sting of pain that began throbbing from her left palm. Inspecting it showed only that she had dug her fingernails deep into it from the sheer tension gripping her all the while. She sighed again.

Looked up. Followed the rest of the line of articles plastering the wall. The rest of Kevin’s career trajectory.

Either the rebirth of the world had changed nothing of it, or this pocket dimension had preserved this glimpse into a different age and existence. The flamboyant, cross-dressing bass player of the critically panned rock band had transformed into a successful stage magician on the Strip over the years that followed, drawing a small cult following. A snippet from a Rolling Stone interview book-ended the assortment of notes.

In red color, years ago, Kevin had spray-painted over the tail end of this creepy collage:

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

Kim sighed again and let her gaze sweep over the sad past, just one more time. The pile of discarded cans of beans and bacon and empty lighter fluid, the ridiculous number of empty cigarette boxes stacked up on the table.

What a pathetic mess.

Struggling to grasp how long she had lived here, hiding out in this pocket space—it disgusted her. She had hid from the world for too long, in a place where mundane folk never wandered, where only demons and ghosts and rejects found comfort in dwelling.

She swallowed the lump of nothingness that had gotten itself stuck in her throat and had one last thing she wanted to look at.

The thing sitting in the back of the safe, sitting in the back of the tour bus. It was what she had come for.

Blood and gore had been sprayed and splattered along the narrow, almost claustrophobic walls leading ever deeper inside, long dried and flaking off. A strange substance, black like pitch and now with the consistency of caked, cracked mud now covered the area. Kim’s mind reeled with the imagination of how a creature native to this world had dissolved into goo there.

To get to that safe, to get to that thing she sought, she would have to walk this narrow corridor. Through the refuse and the haunting clues of past violence.

The only reason to brave this wretched place.

After taking the first steps, registering the taste of grit on her tongue, and finding that her knuckles had whitened as a result of how tightly she gripped the gun in her hand, she realized how fast her heart was racing. Pounding away.

Crunching and thumping noises behind her caused her to spin around and point the gun—at Javi, who stumbled up the stairs into the bus. She lowered her gun but the tension only grew, for panic marred his pretty face.

And terror made his voice tremble in an unsettling contrast to the words he said next, “Okay, time’s up. We got a problem, baby girl.”

Through gritted teeth, she asked, “What?”

Her gun rose, following suit as he raised the sawed-off shotgun in his hands, backing away from the entrance as if to back away from an invisible threat, twitching at every sound of the breeze pouring in through the bullet holes in the body of the bus.

The wind picked up and shook the world around them, like an earthquake. A chorus of whispers engulfed them. But not like wind should. Gibbering and incomprehensible but clearly words. Alien.

She stepped forward, some of the cans and plastic trash clattered and rustled underfoot as Javi and Kim ducked closer to one another, guns pointing away from each other, backing up until their backs touched.

“Ritual ward ain’t workin’ no more,” he said, voice still shaking. Before she could answer that, he added, “And no, I didn’t make no mistake. Somethin’s wrong.”

Something big moved, obscuring the otherworld’s diffuse light and making it flicker as the body of a huge serpent-like shape coiled around the bus, suffocating the light. It howled. Then whispered again.

“No, I don’t think it was you,” Kim breathed. “Shit, I shoulda known bett—"

The bus shook violently and the steel groaned. Screeched in pain. The metal twisted, bent. The walls slumped inwards, gripped and deformed by tremendous force. And that deafening howl resounded again, carrying with it a chorus of furious whispers, only intervals in the rising storm of howls and screeches.

“Let’s hope bullets work,” Javi shouted over the cacophony.

The muzzle flare made Kim see stars for a second, accompanied by black spots in her field of vision. Making the presence of the thick white clouds wrapping and coiling around the bus all the more menacing. And a sharp ringing in her ears followed the thunderclap of Javi’s shot. And then the next.

The howling turned to screeching, fluid and somehow alive, unlike the metal being rent apart.

She squinted and took a shot at something that appeared more solid than the rest, and the unnatural howls that followed suggested that bullets might be working after all.

Bright light flooded the inside of the bus, spreading to the tune of more metal being peeled back like an onion’s skins. The hungry cloud ripped away the entire ceiling and a roiling mass of living white smoke loomed over them.

Javi’s next shot made it recoil. It moved like a dragon with dozens of short limbs, more like a centipede. Its form defied definition. Kim could almost make out something resembling a neck. That neck ended in something resembling a hungry maw, consisting of thousands of teeth that were not teeth, struggling to take shape and just flowing like water and solidifying and back and forth.

She shot into the center of whatever this thing was and it screeched again, dispersing just like any cloud should but reshaping at the edges of the torn metal ceiling and taking cover from their shots. Looming, like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce.

The string of profanities Javi eked out behind her only underlined his panicked attempts at reloading his gun and fumbling with the ammunition. But the world had grown strangely quieter, through a screen of the deafened ringing in her ears from the many loud shots. Gun smoke stung as it filled Kim’s nostrils.

Her pistol punched another hole through the side of the bus as she took a potshot at the hungry cloud. The angry howls that followed were only a prelude to the thing grabbing and shaking the whole bus with violent force. The world nearly spun around as the bus nearly toppled over.

Two more blind shots made it stop and another hungry cloud darted across the hole in the ceiling, coiling around the bus and crisscrossing with the first one. The bus rumbled and shook, falling back into its upright position, making her stomach churn.

They had no eyes but Kim felt watched. Felt the hatred radiating from these things like heat.

A raging inferno.

The blue water of the sky began to swirl like a vortex, like a whirlpool was beginning to form in it. But she had no time to ponder it, for tendrils of the hungry cloud formed claws, prying at the hole and trying to force its way deeper inside. The maw closed in.

She took another shot that caused it to recoil, backing away and then flowing back outside. She continued pulling the trigger, but the weapon just clicked away with empty chambers.

Click, click, click, click.

Another deafening shot from Javi’s shotgun behind her maintained the numbing screen of ringing in her ears. More angry howls. The presence of the clouds disrupted the flow of air, and a violent gust of wind heralded a sudden change.

The giant forces shaking and crushing and tearing up the old tour bus let go of it. Distanced themselves.

Even at a growing range, Kim could feel the flaming despise emanating from these unnatural entities. Although they possessed no facial features, she sensed one of them catching a glimpse of her as something distantly resembling a head flowed past the hole in the ceiling, joining the other cloud-dragons.

Even as the distance between the bus and the hungry clouds grew, the adrenaline still pumped. Kim’s heart continued pounding like a drum, underscored by that painful ringing in her ears. She continued to point her empty gun at the intangible things while the unspeakable entities backed farther and farther away from the bus, melting into wisps of other clouds adrift in the rippling skies.

Where they recovered. Re-channeled. Readied themselves for their next assault.

With a trembling hand, she pawed around in her other jacket pocket for spare bullets but found none.

“You got what you came for?” Javi asked. His voice quaked.

They had both ducked down and cowered, glued to the old demolished furnishings inside the bus. Things that offered comfort in the illusion of providing cover, but provided none against entities that moved like mist and possessed the power of giants.

“No,” Kim breathed.

“Then fuckin’ get it. They might be coming back,” he said.

She glared at him.

He grimaced and said, “Sorry.”

Staying low and moving while staying crouched, she sidled along the length of the corridor into the back of the bus. Javi stayed behind, keeping his gun trained on one of the gaping holes that the fog-things had ripped open in the chassis of this steel carcass.

Kim paused when something metal clanked. A shard of scrap metal had fallen down and Javi’s gaze met hers. He shook his head and she turned, continuing on.

The pounding of that drum that was the heart of fury and adrenaline, it calmed. Slowly. Although it felt longer than it was, a minute had passed since the retreat of the roiling cloud-monsters.

She dared to stand up straight and look around in the room with the ratty bunk beds. For a moment, she expected to see Michael sitting there. But all she saw was her own shadow, her silhouette cast into a humanoid shape where she had seen him sitting last. A reminder of the demon that had taken him—taken him over, ascended as the Glass King. A wide smile, too wide to look natural, baring bright white, clean teeth. Underlining a set of piercing steel blue eyes, and that flash of silver in them.

That evil. That ambition.

None of it here, now. Nobody was here. Nobody but Javi waiting near the exit, and nobody else but Kim.

She turned and her eyes came to rest on the small black safe set into the wall. Still intact.

The door of the safe stood open. First and foremost, dust and grit filled its insides. That, and a small mirror standing at the back wall, inside the safe.

Kim stared at herself, lost in the sinuous vision. Not vanity enthralled her, but fascination over every curve of her own face, so unexpected and yet so true to what she had imagined. So right.

So her.

Most of all, she felt content. So content that everything was a million miles away. The memories of demons and Michael, the cloud creatures, the weight of the revolver in her hand, the perils of the House of Change, the oblivion that swallowed people whole in the otherworlds, the laws of magick, the constant paradox, the dreams that blended with reality, even Javi—they all faded away. Peeled back like layers of reality unfurling like flower petals, like a rose blossoming and blooming in a time lapse.

All that remained—all that remained was this mirror.

She reached inside the safe and took it. First, Kevin had seen it here, mystified by its meaning and terrified by what it might represent. Michael had left it here, to see through it from beyond any veil, and to control his potential thrall. Now, Kim took it. She would make it her own.

Held up close, she looked into her own eyes, the rest of her appearance and this bright otherworld around her all cropped out by the angle.

Infinity churned in those black holes, framed by vibrant colors, scintillating with fire and metal in the color of her irises. Life, vibrant, and yearning.

Her fingers curled around the small reflective object as she closed her eyes and breathed. The adrenaline, the rushing of blood in her ears all distant and subdued.

Content, finally.

Kim shoved the mirror into her jacket’s pocket and left.

Nervousness still marked Javi’s face when he looked up at her from his hiding spot. His brow shot up into a high arch of confusion. Kim knew how serene she must have looked now, felt the thrum of this powerful calm from the core of her body and emanating outwards like a bright aura.

“Done. Let’s go,” she breathed at him.

He stumbled a bit as he got to his feet and took the lead. Paused at the bottom of the stairs leaving the old tour bus, pointing his gun from one side to the other and then poking it outside. The fright of the cloud-creatures still haunted him and showed itself in his every abrupt motion, but Kim followed behind him in a trance of almost unnatural tranquil.

With nothing in sight, he began making his hasty return to the sports car outside, kicking up dust as he jogged up to it.

Kim followed and only now registered the heavy pull of the emptied gun in her hand. She stared at it and remembered all the times she had used it in the past, savoring the idea of tossing it. Then she changed her mind and shoved it into the other pocket of her leather jacket.

Javi swung his weight to plop back down into the driver’s seat, causing the small lithe vehicle to bounce a few inches under the sudden impact of his weight.

Kim clicked her tongue and smiled through her speaking, “Let me.”

Javi peeled his eyes off the sky where the cloud monsters dwelt. Stared at her in disbelief, realizing how she had stopped paying attention to those potential threats. Kim took twice the time to walk towards the car, not speeding up her pace at all.

He shook his head and climbed back out of the driver’s seat. Tossed the keys to her which she caught with precision that surprised even herself. They took their seats in the car, slammed the doors shut, and within seconds, the engine’s motor roared back to life.

Wheels kicked up dirt as the Dodge spun on the spot and circled around, then sped off towards the cracked and pothole-riddle strip of forgotten asphalt. Metal screeched and sparks flew as the vehicle scraped over tarred grounds and found proper traction on the broken road.

All the while, Javi kept rubbernecking around, peering out of the windows to see if he could spot the things nearing. Kim just kept her focus on the road in front of them. Unconcerned of what lurked in the bright sunless sky.

A gust of wind carried a tempest of sand, engulfing the car. When it passed, the Dodge was driving down a different road. It looked almost the same, but it was more intact than the otherworld’s imitation of one.

This was the natural world they came from.

The sun set to their right. A yellow fireball in the sky, scorching hot and a reminder of them having returned to our world. Or what our world had become.

The car thundered past a weathered sign by the roadside.

SOUTH

306

NEVADA

“Any ideas why the ritual ward didn’t work? Was it those things?” Javi asked after a long bout of silence and a subsequent deep sigh that conveyed a sense of relief.

After all, those cloud-beasts could only exist in that otherworld, or by taking possession of a body from our world.

“Got a hunch,” she replied. Nothing else. That calm drowned out the desire to over-explain.

She could feel his gaze resting on her but she did not meet it, keeping her eyes on the road still. Only shooting a glance at the speedometer. Needle climbing, going fast. The hum and vibration of the vehicle felt good and she savored the pressure of the sheer velocity.

Without looking at him, she could sense the gears churning behind his forehead.

“Got a feeling that all of the old magick doesn’t work anymore. I remember reading some old book. Like, all the old spells from the late medieval period? This one monk said they stopped working at some point. A later occultist wrote some babble about magick only working because you believe in it despite the paradox of it not existing, evidenced by all the old rituals that never worked. But I think that guy had no clue.”

Javi scratched the stubble on his chin, sounding like sandpaper on wood.

“And you think that’s what happened in the House o’ Change? Because o’ what you did in there?” he asked, the pitch of his voice rising with each question. “Does that mean you're—”

“Yes,” she said, interrupting him.

Smiled.

“What if someone else makes it to the Heart of the House? If they birth the next world, does that mean you—”

“No,” she said. The smile solidified on her face, yet softened. Like molten steel. “Nobody can change me—nobody change my metal soul. Nobody.”

Her words trailed off with her thoughts. The road to Vegas would be long and something sinister still awaited them there: the Glass King and his flock.

Kim swallowed the lump in her throat, pushing that thought back down. She felt something more powerful that trumped it.

Hope.

Then she added, “I will now always be me, no matter what becomes of this world, or the next, or any that follow.”

Silence draped itself over them again, filled only with the constant sounds of the engine and the tires rolling down the road at high speed.

Kim removed her hand from the stick and held it out to Javi. An open, empty palm. Yet, invisible to the naked eye, she held her heart out on display for him.

He looked into the hollow of her palm, then let his gaze wander up the length of her arm till their eyes met again. Just before she could feel uncomfortable about it, he seized her hand.

She smiled again.

Squeezed.

—Submitted by Wratts

2 notes · View notes

a-patheticapathetic · 4 years

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ID - The Background World

Nine Inch Nails - Add Violence

It’s been probably about 3 years since I’ve written one of these single-song music video ideas down, given that I haven’t done any since starting Film for the Blind. And I’m not necessarily stalling that, by the way. I have a pretty good idea on how to finish God is in the Radio, a decent amount of planning for Another Love Song, and the end of that album is what I’m really looking forward to. In the meantime a lot of my creative energy has been going toward writing music (yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!). But recently this song has been giving me a lot of ideas that I don’t want to keep cooped up in my head any longer. Let’s go.

The song (as well as the rest of this fantastic EP) is about simulation theory - the idea that we live in a simulated reality, controlled by unseen and likely malevolent forces that can end, reverse, or restart us at any moment. The music video will tie in directly to that.

The intro begins with a close-up of the main character (details, appearance, etc up to you) sleeping in a void. They face the camera straight-on and vertically, although they appear to be sleeping on their side. As the intro progresses to the verse, their room beings to appear around them as the camera slowly zooms out. It isn’t a smooth fade; objects and furniture glitch and render in individually, like the textures and models from a video game. The character begins speaking with the lyrics, and opens their eyes with the bassline. Some things are still popping in behind them. At the line “What am I supposed to do?”, they begin to get up out of bed. The camera tracks and rotates with their torso as they do so, making it look like the world is turning around them. They throw on a proper shirt and pants, and head out of their room, turning 90 degrees into a hallway. The camera does not track this horizontal rotation, and so we change to a profile view of the character.

At the line “I’m going into you again”, the character reaches their kitchen/living room, which has a large window facing the camera. Here we are introduced to the world of this video. It is a soft kind of cyberpunk; no flying cars, no cyber police, no body augmentation. Technology seems to be only a couple of decades ahead of what we have today. The main difference is in presentation. The window shows a cramped, choking cityscape of obsidian black buildings with bright multicolor stripes. Cars and aboveground trains move at a frantic place, all colored different shades of white and grey. It’s impossible to see the sky or even tell what time of day it is due to the frequency of monolithic skyscrapers; the only indication of weather is the rain coming down. Many of the appliances in the character’s apartment share the black/white with monochromatic stripe design of the infrastructure outside. It is clear that it is a dystopia, even though no crime, dirt, or suffering is immediately apparent; it just looks devoid of soul.

The character goes through a routine that is absurdly sped up due to the smart devices in their kitchen. Coffee pops out of the counter as they enter the room; they grab it without even looking. A news station appears on one of the walls and many other screened devices turn on. The character ignores them all and goes to the window, staring out into the city. At the beginning of the line “ I will keep myself awake”, they turn away, putting the cup of coffee down without drinking any of it. They grab a messenger bag from a couch or jacket rack, step into their shoes, and exit their apartment. The door closes itself behind them and appears to lock with two blinks of a red light on the handle. They walk down the hallway and get into a glass-encased elevator. It goes up without the press of a button as the strings come in and song transitions to the next verse.

This shot begins with the camera facing directly at the outside of the elevator doors as the character comes out of them, no longer mouthing the lyrics. They move towards the camera, which keeps a constant distance. They walk down a long hallway which appears to be lit well, despite the lack of light sources above and the seemingly flat black side panels all along the walls. As the verse plays, the camera slowly rotates 180 degrees around the character at a constant speed. The rotation is synchronized with the song; when we reach the full 180 (viewing from directly behind the character), it will be exactly after “...is always bleeding through”. As the camera rotates around the character, it is revealed that each black panel on the wall is actually a pane of polarized glass. Each one only lets light through when viewed head-on, from a perpendicular angle. So when we are viewing our character from the side, we are able to see out the window. Outside it is a grey-blue cloudy morning. We can see this now because we are far above the skyline, and although there are still several black spires visible, they all appear to be shorter than the building the character is in.

The character walks down the hallway briskly, and with intention. As they do, they begin fiddling with something inside their bag. A little over halfway through the verse, the hallway ends at an an automated security checkpoint. The character quickly and smoothly drops the bag onto the conveyor belt while keeping something hidden in the palm of their hand. They appear to press in on the object as it goes through the scanner, immediately dropping it down the sleeve of their shirt as they raise their arms and walk through the detector. A couple of rings rotate around them for a couple of seconds, but no alarms sound and they continue walking through. They drop their arms, subtly catching the sleeve object in their hand again, and pick up the bag from the opposite end of the scanner in one fluid motion and without breaking stride. After rounding a corner, they release the breath they had been holding, and drop the object into the bag. They come to a closed black door with a keycard scanner, and after a look over their shoulder, they pull something metal out of their mouth and begin working at the handle. They are noticeably shakier and less self-assured at this point, but after a moment of struggle, they manage to turn something in the handle. They then reach into the bag and pull out a palm-sized circuit board covered in various electronic components, before waving it in front of the scanner. A green light turns on above the door and the character immediately opens it and quickly disappears inside. In the song, the door closes behind them exactly before the first “Are you sure?”.

The screen is black for this second, aside from an oscilloscope-like white line stretching across. It reacts the the audio of the song as a waveform. When the drums come back in, the camera begins panning to the right of this wave, at a slow and fixed pace.

We are now in another profile view of the room the character has just broken into. In contrast to the city outside, this room and all of its equipment looks like a computer lab from the mid-20th century, complete with beige walls, square ceiling panels, and massive yellowed plastic computer towers. There are only a few sputtering fluorescent lights left; the rest are burnt out, casting the room in dark shadows. The character makes their way over the old dust and cables cautiously, and they appear to be looking for something. The camera does not follow them now; it continues dollying right at a constant pace as the main character ventures further into the room. As the camera reaches the far end of the room and stops, it reveals that the last monitor at the end of a long table is on. The character notices this and quickly makes their way to it. The camera zooms in slowly on the screen. It’s covered in dust and unreadable until they wipe the screen, revealing three words in blinking red text: ARE YOU SURE? The character reads this and looks down at the keyboard, locating that old L-shaped enter key. They hesitate for a moment, before pressing it.

Immediately, the screen goes black and shuts off. The lights then begin to flicker more seriously, and the building seems to shake slightly. The character stands back for a moment in waiting before the building begins shaking more violently, prompting them to hurry back to the door and leave. The camera does not immediately follow, staying on the now empty screen as bits of plaster fall from the ceiling and the light of the opening door stretches over the keyboard.

At the third “Are you sure?”, we return to following the character’s torso, now outside the room. They walk cautiously at first, but as the shaking continues they give up the pretense of innocence and start running. It’s fine, as all the security measures seems to have lost power. The walk-through detector is blocked because the metal rings are stuck in place; the character instead jumps onto the conveyor and vaults over the scanner to get past. They sprint down the long corridor, now panicking. We reverse the 180 degree camera rotation here. Thankfully the elevator doors are open, and when they get inside, gasping for air, it takes them down to ground level.

At the fifth “Are you sure?”, the elevator reaches the ground floor, the camera pointed at the outside of the doors. The character, noticeably pale, steps out and looks around. The lobby is filled with people who seem to be moving about business as usual, but the shaking hasn’t stopped. It’s much lesser here at street level but it’s certainly still happening. Nobody else seems to notice, however. The character stumbles through the lobby, trying to steady themselves, but the shaking is still getting worse. Drinks rattle, a light flickers, and even a bottle falls off a shelf and shatters; nobody pays any mind. Upon witnessing this, the character quickly makes their way through the crowd and to the door in order to get out onto the street. It should be noted that upon reaching the lobby, a person in the crowd mouths along with each “Are you sure?”. As the song progresses into the outro, the amount of people that do so will multiply until by the last repetition, every person aside from the main character on-screen will be saying it.

(When the character leaves the building the camera begins to very slowly spin around them, as well as gradually lower in angle.) Outside, things aren’t any better. Traffic is bumper-to-bumper, and people move briskly to limit the time they spend in the rain. Still, nobody reacts to the shaking. Even as the puddles begin to ripple and splash and the cars bounce on their suspensions. An LED sign swivels and falls from its second-story perch; the character is the only one to flinch. As they see all this, they begin walking faster, before running, before all-out sprinting. The camera’s rotation speeds up with the character’s hysteria. The crowd and traffic seem to gradually disappear as the frame moves away from them. We follow the character into the middle of the street, now devoid of cars and other people.

At the final “Are you sure?”, the camera stops rotating and moving entirely, and the main character runs out of frame to the right. It then straightens out to no longer be a worm’s-eye-view, and zooms and dollys to the right slowly. The character reappears in frame, crawling backwards and to the left while staring directly ahead of them at something off-screen. As a wave of distortion overcomes the song, so too does one begin to affect the visuals. Right before the song cuts completely, the character raises an arm as if to defend themselves, or shield their eyes. The few seconds of strange distortion after that appear to be actual video glitches, with images of the switchboard taken from the This Isn’t The Place video spliced in.

Okay, that’s the specifics of what I have planned for the main song. A lot of the actual content of the outro looping is up to you and your imagination. Here are my guidelines:

For the duration of the loop, the main character is running from right to left. They appear to be running away or toward something with desperation. The camera follows them but not like in a way we’ve seen yet; instead of the center of the screen tracking them, imagine there is a point on the screen that moves from the right side to the left side over the course of the loop. The character is centered on that point. While they can be running at any speed in the world around them, they will always be moving at the same speed across the frame. The reach the far side of the frame right at the end of the loop. They are reaching out to something but it is just barely off-screen by the end of the loop.

Now take that loop and add 52 more frames to it. What you reveal in those frames is up to you. Each time the loop is repeated, remove a frame from the beginning and extend the ending by that one frame. Also, each time the loop repeats, add some kind of distortion to the visuals. It can be static, video/image artifacting, texture rendering issues, CGI rendering issues, objects disappearing or lowering polygon count, shaders or light sources disappearing, etc. Essentially, make it look like the resources and source code for the simulation are breaking down. Start with the background and be subtle for the first few loops. Get more aggressive and start hitting the foreground after that, and by the end it should be a terrible and undiscernable mess that not even the main character was spared from.

- - - - - - - - -

Holy hell that took 3 hours to write, but it’s there. It’s done. It’s out of my head and onto paper. Thanks for reading.

#idea #music #music video #NIN #Nine Inch Nails #add violence #the background world

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bugheadjones-the-third · 6 years

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Title: Unmoored Part 2/2 - WARNING: You can read part 2 without part 1

Part 1

Read on AO3 . Summary: Betty Cooper has lost everything. She's tired, broken, and yet, she finds herself walking towards him. How's that supposed to feel? How's she supposed to face his broken heart? . A/N: First of all, I’m so sorry for taking so long to post this! Apart from being suffocated by my classes, I kinda just... lost track? I knew my idea would change after I watched the ep, but it changed a lot more than I expected. It changed to the point where I actually had a new idea of how things were supposed to have happened, but I’ll wait until I watch the ep to see if I’ll actually write it XD Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this version of something that could’ve happened! Please, leave me a comment with your thoughts! Make an author happy! . . . Betty couldn’t remember ever feeling worse than on that morning. Her head was throbbing, her eyes were stinging, and it was as if the entire world around her was just filled with voids instead of the usual faces she was supposed to recognize — and even wave at. There was no polite smile gracing her lips that morning, no perfect ponytail swinging over her shoulders, and basically no destiny set in her mind as she walked aimlessly around the small town of Riverdale.

She was in no condition to think, hence trying to make a responsible decision such as going home or writing for the Blue and Gold was just not going to happen. Why should she even do any of those things, right? Going home would take her straight to her mother’s judging words, and her articles just felt like a bunch of useless, lethal words that could pretty much inspire another dormant murderer around the town. Running away to these places would do her no good. In fact, nowhere she went would actually save her from the one thing terrorizing her at that moment.

Her memories.

The good ones. The bad ones. The ones from the moment her life turned upside down and she was left completely alone in that suffocatingly perfect life of hers. No best friend, no neighbor and especially, no Jughead Jones.

Her teeth sunk into her lower lip as the thought returned to her mind— not that it had actually left ever since the decision was made. A life without him was not something she wanted anymore. Hell— a life without his snarky comments or his warm hands was just something she never even considered possible anymore. The truth is, Betty Cooper forgot how terrible life was without him. She forgot how it was to be surrounded by her insecurities 24/7, and she forgot how it felt to be stared at simply for being her.

Simply for being the perfect girl next door, who’s also a straight A student and the new obsession of a maniac who had been terrorizing the whole town.

It was all just too much for her. Too much for a single girl who used to believe good things would come for those who fight for what they believe in. She believed in a better future and — damn, she believed in happy endings. Even after everything that happened around Riverdale, Betty believed in a day when the scars on her hands would have faded long ago and she would go home and find an empty fridge just because Jughead couldn’t—

And there he was, yet again, warming her heart with a bunch of what ifs and that silly smile of his that always manages to make her happy. She has always known Jughead has the prettiest of the smiles, and even if they’ve always been her source of courage and inspiration, Betty knows better than to believe he will ever smile at her like that again. Right now, after what she did, she knew he probably hated her. For breaking his heart like that, the blonde knew he wouldn't simply forgive her. Even if she had told Archie— and mostly herself— that they would find their way back to one another, she didn’t know if things would ever go back to normal, not even after the truth was revealed.

That is, if the truth was ever revealed.

At that moment, she didn’t know if they would ever get rid of the Black Hood. She didn’t know if she would be able to keep protecting everyone, and she didn’t know if she would ever be forgiven.

Betty didn’t even know where she was going at that moment.

And it wasn’t until the first, cold drop of rain hit her cheek that she actually paid attention to that.

The rain was coming, and and it took her some good moments before she decided to look for a proper shelter from it. The streets were empty, now, telling her people were, indeed, worried about that water that was about to fall, for the clouds above her head seemed to be too dark and charged to be just a drizzle. She could feel the storm coming, or maybe it was just the turmoil in her belly, she couldn’t really tell. Either way, townsfolk always seem to worry about such things, and normally, she would, too, but it was not like things could get any worse just because the sky had decided to pour its own sadness over her.

After the rain finally started to fall, Betty finally realized her aimless walk was taking her to Pop’s, and it was as if her mind believed she could find some sort of protection under those neo lights. Her heart ached when she remembered all the good moments she had spent at those vinyl booths, and how that diner had witnessed the last kiss she would ever share with the love of her life. That was going to be the first time she would be going there ever since she was forced to break their hearts, and for the first time, the Cooper girl knew not even her favorite food would make things better.

A painful smile crossed her lips, as she remembered his wise words. Apparently, not all is okay with milkshakes.

A couple blocks later, when she arrived at the diner, Betty was soaked. In the end, the rain had come faster than she had expected, and chances were she took a little extra time on purpose so she could mask her recent tears. Pop was probably the only person left in town who still liked her, and he would certainly notice the track of tears across her cheeks.

He was probably the only one left, and yet, she knew she would have to lie to him when he asked her if she was doing okay. It was going to hurt, but at that moment, Betty didn’t think she had enough strength to tell him the whole truth— not that she was allowed to. His eyes were set on her, and she didn’t want to risk getting more people involved in that sick game of his.

The Black Hood had turned her into a liar. He took away her friends, her family and the love of her life.

But he never took away her feelings, no.

And perhaps, that was the cruelest part of his wicked plan.

When she finally opened the door of the nostalgic diner, the sound of the chiming bells was the last thing she heard before her entire body went numb. Her green eyes were widened, the air in her lungs had disappeared, and the gap in between her lips showed the pure horror that had immediately taken over Betty as soon as her eyes met the bloody scene in front of her.

“Jug…”

Her voice escaped her throat as a painful whisper, as if his name had been trapped inside her chest forever. Her heart ached in an unbearable level at that moment, as their eyes finally connected in a longing, broken gaze. Betty observed him, running her eyes through his entire body as he was sitting on a stool while Pop Tate treated his wounds. Jughead was destroyed— both physically and emotionally— and she didn’t need too long to conclude it was all her fault.

Those bruised lips, the dark circles around his eyes, the cuts spread all over his skin and the hematomas were just corrupting his perfect features, and at that moment, the blonde could feel the anger running through her veins, as she continued to blame herself for the state that boy was in. He was tired and hurt, and god— he was just so visibly broken. She could feel her heart shattering into millions of pieces along his, and her skin was slowly being ripped under a mess of nails and blood. They continued to hold each other’s gaze, and it wasn’t until a cold, salty tear ran through her cheek that the blonde finally blinked, bringing her back to that horrible reality in front of her.

Betty didn’t know exactly when she had started crying— she wasn't still sure if she had stopped since last night— but at that moment, more than ever before, the blonde just knew she wouldn’t be able to hold back any of the reactions of her broken heart.

The strap of her bag slowly slid through her shoulder, and she made no effort to preventing it from falling. The sound of her books hitting the floor echoed around the empty diner, and with one of her hands covering her startled mouth, the blonde took small, careful steps towards the men in from of her, holding back the urge to reach out for his hand. At that moment, she didn’t know if she was wanted around, but Betty refused not to do anything to help.

Especially when she was the only one to be blamed for his current condition.

“ Jug, I-I’m so sorry…” Her lips trembled, as the tears continued to stream down her face. His eyes were still looking at hers, but at that moment, Jughead expressed no reaction regarding her presence by his side. Seeing her didn’t bring a relieved expression to his face, and neither did it disgust him. He was simply accepting her there, watching and drinking in all the changes that had drained her delicate, soft features for the past couple of days.

Apparently, Archie was right.

Unlike what he had brought himself to believe, Betty Cooper wasn’t fine at all.

And it was all his fault.

He knew the rain wasn’t the only reason behind her messed state, for his eyes had seen her soaked by the tears of heaven, and god— Betty looked simply stunning like that. She loved the rain running down her body, and the smile on her face was bright enough to create a rainbow in the sky. Whenever they ended up shelterless in a rainy day, she would always find a way to be happy.

But right now, oh— Betty looked like shit.

And never in his life had he actually seen her like that.

“ Oh, you’re finally here, Betty.” Pop said, as if he was already expecting her to show up. He threw away a bloody cotton, standing up from his crouched position. “ I have some bandages back on the employee’s bathroom. Keep an eye on him, will you?”

“ S-Sure…” She answered, insecurity filling her voice as she got closer, grabbing the bag of ice that laid forgotten on the table. She refused to meet his eyes— too embarrassed, he could see— as she carefully placed the ice over his swallowed jaw. Her teeth were bitting her lower lip, and at that moment, even if he knew he shouldn’t, his eyes just wouldn’t leave her, examining and recording all that was left of the girl his heart beats for.

The bags under her eyes were deep enough to salient the bones of her skull, and he could easily tell she had been crying unstoppably for a couple of days now. A bloody line was trailing from between her fingers, and she was shaking uncontrollably as she tried to formulate a phrase in her head. Betty looked thiner, weaker and even if he was the one all bruised, the blonde seemed to be in way more pain than he was.

Though why did she look like that? Weren’t things the way she wanted them to be? Didn’t she want them done so she could finally follow through with her life without him slowing her down?

She should be happy now. Then why was she so sad?

And most importantly, why did he even care?

She broke his heart. She told him she loved him, and then she dumped him, doing the only thing that could ever hurt him. Betty had made him weak and dependable, and he knew he should’ve known better that happiness didn’t belong in his life.

He should’ve known it would all eventually end in tears and one, broken heart.

Though why did it seem to be two?

Apart from the ache caused by the loss of his girl next door, there were also feelings such as anger, concern and guilt running through his veins. Jughead knew he had to say something— anything to her in order to relieve that press ion building up inside his throat. He didn’t want to let all his emotions out in front of her, so, as always, he chose to mask it all with his characteristic sardonic humor.

It’s his way of coping, after all.

“ Betty Cooper… You’re a sight for a sore eye, literally.” He said, letting out a bitter chuckle.

“ Jughead, don’t do this…” She said, placing a hand on his chest as if to prevent him from falling forward due to the irresponsible chuckle. “ You’re gonna hurt yourself even more.”

His eyes connected to hers, a longing feeling reflecting through them. “ I don’t think that’s possible anymore.”

His cold stare on her felt like a stab, for she knew exactly what he meant by those words. Betty swallowed dry, looking away from him as more tears spilled from her eyes. Her heart felt heavy inside her chest, and at that moment, she just couldn’t simply keep things inside anymore. It was too much. “ You won’t believe me, Jug… But I did that to protect you. I never though—”

“ Protect me? I don’t look safe or protected, do I, Betty?”

“ I know. And that’s why I regret it. I should’ve never—“

“ Oh, you regret it now?” There was a painful smile on his face, now, as he moved away from her. “ And why is that, Betty? Is it because Archie wouldn’t take you? Or maybe you just regret going that far with me before breaking my heart?”

“ Archie? What are you even talking about? Don’t be ridiculous, Jughead! I don’t love him! I love you!“

“ Don’t even try, Betty. I won’t fall for your words… Not again.”

“ I’m telling the truth! I would never lie to you about this, and you know it! You know me!”

“ Oh, do I? Because I didn’t know you were not okay by my side. I didn’t know you were planning on ending things between us—“

“ That’s because I wasn’t!”

“ I didn’t know I was making you suffer!”

“ You weren’t, Jug.” She was crying harder now, her lips were trembling and she didn’t think twice before placing her hands on his thigh, looking at him from below with those sad, green eyes of hers. “ You were making me the happiest girl on earth!”

“ Then why the hell did you dump me, Betty?!”

“ I did it to—“

“ You weren’t protecting me! I won’t believe this!”

“ You have to… It’s the truth. I-I didn’t know…”

“ You didn’t know what?! That you would also suffer!? That you would be left alone?! That you would—“

“ I didn’t know he was still going to hurt you, Jughead!”

Her words echoed around the diner, leaving the Jones boy completely confused. His eyes were widened, the words he was about to shoot at her disappeared in his throat, and for the first time since the previous night, he could actually feel his heart beating. Her head was lowered, and the tears were falling flat on the floor, and as the blonde sobbed, all he could do was wait for her to continue from where she had stopped. There was something more he didn’t know about their sudden break up, and apparently, that was the cause of her pain. A secret so well kept that couldn’t be but a mere detail that made no difference on the outcome of their relationship.

That secret was destroying her, he could tell.

And at that moment, even if he had told himself he wouldn’t let her explain herself and that he wouldn’t believe her words anymore; Jughead needed to know. He needed to listen to her voice.

“ What are you talking about, Betty? Who… Who was going to hurt me?”

He watched as she tried to wipe away her tears in an attempt of recomposing herself. Apparently, the girl who was still kneeled on the floor of an old diner was still trying to gather forces to continue. “ He told me he wouldn’t hurt you as long as I broke up with you, Jug. He told me he was going to kill you, and I-I… I couldn’t let that happen. Then I asked Archie to deliver you the message, even if I knew it would hurt more. I am so so sorry, Jughead. I thought I was going to protect you… But apparently, I was an idiot to believe him and now you’re here, leading and bruised and it’s all because of me.”

The wheels in his head were turning, as he tried his hardest to decipher her words. Just by looking at her miserable state, Jughead knew she wasn’t lying and that her words were anything but an illusion she had created in her head. She really was trying to protect him from someone, but the way Betty was saying those things just didn’t make any sense for him. There wasn’t only one he that had left him all hurt like that, no. There were a lot of Serpents hitting him last night, and even if some of them punched him really hard, he doubted any of them wanted him dead for simply being with her.

The Serpents aren’t the kindest people in the world, but they would never kill one of their own, and they certainly wouldn’t be motivated by a girl like her.

Hell— Those guys probably don’t even know Betty. There was no way she could be talking about a Serpent or the his initiation.

But if not by the gauntlet, why did she even think he would be physically hurt?

Shivers ran down his spine after asking himself that question, and for a moment, his throat went dry. There was a sudden, ominous presence weighing on his shoulders, and it was as if hunger eyes were set on him. Once their worried eyes met, he forced himself to swallow that feeling away, taking a deep breath before gathering some courage to listen to the answer they were both afraid to hear.

He didn’t want to know who was the man who wanted him dead, and she certainly didn’t want to say that name.

But for the sake of their hearts, the name had to be said out loud.

“ Betty… Who’s the man you’re talking about?"

“ Who?” She lifted an eyebrow in pure confusion. “ The Black Hood, Jughead…. Who else could’ve done that to you?”

At the sound of her voice, all the air in his lungs disappeared. His heart started to beat faster, and for the first time since the attacks started in Riverdale, Jughead was afraid of the angel of death. There was a killer after him, and most importantly, this killer was using her in some kind of sick game.

He was manipulating her and threatening the people she loves to get what he wants. He—

That bastard had made her break up with him.

But why? That was the main question he still couldn’t figure out. Why would a killer want anything from a high school girl? It just didn’t make any sense, at least not with just that info.

Jughead needed more details. He needed to know the whole truth.

And something told him Betty Cooper still hadn’t said it all.

“ Betty… The Black Hood didn’t do this to me.”

“ What…?”

“ The Serpents did it during my initiation as one of them. It was not the Black Hood.”

Her eyes went wide in a fraction of seconds, and fear took over her face. The tears stopped, her hands stiffened, and before she could even move, Jughead held her by the wrist in order to prevent her from running away.

Apparently, he could really read her.

“ Jug… I-I… I gotta go. I can’t be here with you.”

“ Betty… What is it that you’re not telling me?”

“ It’s nothing! We’re done, remember? There’s nothing left to be discussed, now let me go!”

“ You’re not going anywhere until you tell me the truth!”

“ Please, Jug… Try to understand. I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t! It’s too dangerous!”

“ I’m not afraid of that asshole, Betty! Can’t you see what he’s doing to you!? To Us!?”

“ Don’t you think I know!? I’ve considered every option, and this is the only one I know will keep you safe! I love you, Jug! So let me protect you!”

“ And who the hell is protecting you!?” Anger filled his voice, and his eyes were suddenly glaring at the broken girl in front of him. Before he knew it, all the anger he was feeling at himself switched to her, and it even worried him that he could actually be hurting her delicate wrist. He was mad at her for being so selfish and ignoring his own feelings at such an important time. Jughead also worried about her— damn, of course he did. And now that he knew she was hiding something that could end up hurting her, there was just no way he was going to let that go.

He was not going to let her go. Not again.

“ Look, Betts…” He started, again, once he realized she wouldn’t say anything. His voice was softer, now as he allowed her nickname to roll out of his tongue. His grip around her wasn’t that tight anymore, and his eyes were a lot softer. Now that he had found hope after having his heart crushed, Jughead felt like he had better control on his emotions instead of letting it all out on her. “ You can’t hide this from me. Please…”

The words that came from his mouth hit her straight in the heart, and the way his eyes were looking at her was just making things a lot harder for her. Betty knew she couldn’t tell him the truth. Knowing him, Jughead wouldn’t just be quiet about it, and he would certainly get the Serpents involved. It would be too dangerous and even if she was feeling like crap, she knew things could get a lot worse if he wasn’t alive when that whole mess came to an end.

No matter what, she couldn’t tell him the truth.

But— oh, ignoring his plea was just so hard.

For the first time in weeks, the boy in front of her was the same, sweet and reckless boy that had climbed her window and kissed her. He was being honest and his innocence was there, spread all over his face. He was once again that kind, insecure boy who stole her heart, and at that moment, he wasn’t sure if he was loved anymore. Even if she had told him, his heart wouldn’t simply take that as an answer, no. Jughead needed more than just her words. Hell, he deserved so much more than what she could offer him.

And yet, there he was, begging her to let him in and help her get through that mess. It felt like their roles were swapped, and instead of being the positive and kind half of that relationship, Betty was the one building walls around herself so she wouldn’t affect anyone else who dared approach. She was keeping everyone away, and no matter what, she wouldn’t let anyone in.

She wouldn’t let them risk their lives. Not for her. Not for anyone else.

At least she now knew how he felt.

Once she felt his fingers relaxing around her wrist, the blonde finally allowed a sigh to escape her lungs. She closed her eyes, taking a step closer to the raven haired boy. Their eyes connected after a moment, and for a fraction of second, they were able to share a moment of pure honesty and love like they had only shared a couple of months before. It was comforting, yet heartbreaking, because they both knew what was about to happen next.

There would be no honesty.

There would be no truth.

But there would certainly be love.

With a longing feeling reflected in their eyes, both of the teenagers followed the rhythm of their hearts. She leaned down and he tilted his head up before their lips met in a chaste and honest kiss. He felt his hands cupping her cheeks, and she knew he could feel her scars pressed against his neck as they did their best to hold onto that moment for as long as they could. Lips moved together, hearts beat as one. For now, they were saying goodbye to each other, and even if there were still so many secrets kept in between them, one truth— perhaps the most important one— was confirmed with that kiss.

I still love you

And then, after the unspoken words were heard, Betty Cooper broke the kiss and ran away in the middle of the pouring rain. Even if it was cold and wet, her broken heart felt warmer and her crackled lips softer. She wasn’t fine at that moment, and that talk with Jughead would probably make her cry even harder that night, but it also gave her back the strength she believed to have faded.

She was stronger now. Wiser. She was the damaged, loner outsider from the right side of the tracks now, and she was going to make sure the Black Hood paid for the suffering he was causing them.

He was going to pay. And soon, they would finally have their happy ending.

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #riverdale #mybugheadfics

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shatterglassproductions · 5 years

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Last Night I Didn't Dream at All by Ross Ingram (Review)

Get you a man who can do both.

What? No, but seriously, Ross Ingram is that guy. Ross Ingram both plays music as well as being a sound engineer (which is actually his primary occupation). Ross Ingram, based in El Paso, Texas, is a musician who draws influences from Smashing Pumpkins to Folk Implosion. With the voice of a 20-something year old early 2000s pop punk musician and the appearance of a steadily busy suburban father rushing the kids to soccer practice in a well worn Dodge Grand Caravan, Ross isn’t the kind of guy you can gloss over, both as a person and a musician. He’s cranked it out for years in bands such as Paperwork and Doc Brown and the 1.21 Jiggawatts (it’s a band where all the songs are about Back to the Future. No, I’m not joking).

This obviously will be a review of his EP Last Night I Didn’t Dream at All, and this will be reviewed track by track. So lets blue-skadoo right into this record

A Barricade - This song is called A Barricade, but honestly it feels more like a gateway into the realm of musical experiences and crafting that Ross has created for the listener to delve into. Immediately we are met with vocals and keyboards at the start, with the lyrics, “Last night I dreamt of knee deep snow”, which if you live somewhere like Buffalo, NY, you don’t have to dream; rather, you live with that stuff. Obviously lyrics are up for interpretation, but the snowy weather that Ross talks about seems to be an endearing metaphor that extends beyond infatuation of sorts. But rather, a benevolent and subtlety painted picture of a longing for the permanence of someone he holds in high regard. If this song was a pop up book, the keyboards would be the pages and the lush and minimal instrumentation being the objects that pop up, with the vague yet beguiling lyrics telling us the story. The song then ends with an analog tape noise that continues on to the next track.

New Year - New year, new song. The noise from the previous song is heard at the start, but quickly the jangling and jovial picks of a bright acoustic guitar set the tonality for this tune. If the previous song laid out the setting, this one introduces the characters. Ross begins to wryly question his love interests smoking habit, which then veers into a heavy and austere back and forth where he confesses his inability to accept the absence of his love interest (going as far to saying it effects his sleep). With the rising emotional tension, the music begins to match pace with it’s own crescendo, carrying the listener along, and then abruptly slowing down to allow room for the continuation of dialogue. Ross’s love interest then admits that she feels despondent and irrefutably morose without him in her own life. With the most notable lyric being, “Guess we could all use a new year”, it seems to symbolize that when the weight of arduous circumstances one experiences throughout their life cause turmoil, a proverbial “new year” would be a refreshing and much needed escape and do-over.

Knee Deep Snow - With the allusion to “knee deep snow”, it only seems fitting that this track would continue on with the imagery and manifestations that make up the meat of this record. Peppered though this sullen and melancholic track is the lyric, “Last night I didn’t sleep at all”, which almost makes one ponder if this song is an allegoric representation of the inability to sleep. The minor key lulls throughout this track, but then parts of the keyboard instrumentation splash through with a chiming tonality. Almost as if it was shadowing the moment when one almost is able to achieve slumber, but then a gripping thought permeates through and keeps one awake for yet another sleepless night.

Holding Pattern - A steady drum beat with closed high hat beats and chord arpeggios lead us into the next track, which to me, is the greatest track on the record. The lyrics are piercing, honest, and sombering. “This bed is cold You’re still sleeping on the couch”, is especially gripping and poignant, hearkening perhaps to a personal experience that one might have with a fractured and dying relationship. Eventually we can hear a distant echo of his voice where he begs the question of if he is still loved or cared for. The fading sound of his voice in this part is piteous, because it’s almost as if you can hear him being left behind, both audibly and physically. This particular track goes through the motions of despair, denial, and a begrudging acceptance of a seemingly futile attempt at rekindling a love so desired, but one that can not be kept.

Transmission Loss - “I don’t want to write

I don’t want to speak” Often with a heartbreak of such immense proportions, it leave us with a writing block of sorts. Not because we don’t know what to say, but because we feel like we’ve said what we feel and have nothing left in us. This track serves as a fitting manifestation of that feeling, and the string accompaniment that is layered throughout this song help emphasize the phenomenon of a begrudging acceptance and reflection on what could have been, or what once was but never will be again. He describes his love interests with various musical descriptors, and its fitting. After all, music is considered a universal language, and it appears this is the only way he knows how to speak. This whole track is a desperation for a closure, tinted with the earnest hopes of finding the same live once more.

This record was a gripping journey with a sorrowing climax, and the musical accompaniment served as a quintessential background setting to what was an unexpectedly captivating tale of the propitious highs and doleful lows of a romantic relationship. They say a jack of all trades is a master of none, but Mr Ingram has shown in this release that he is an adept expert in all that he does.

Final rating - 8.3/10

released November 9, 2018

All songs written, recorded and mixed by Ross Ingram at Brainville and at home. Additional engineering by Sebastian Estrada. Mastered by Chris Common. Artwork by Nathan McGehee. Executive produced by Rosie Varela with Nowhere Else Recording Collective. All songs © 2018 At Least I Still Have Music (ASCAP). ©All rights reserved.

Purchase the EP here: https://rossingram.bandcamp.com/releases

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