#adam hauptmann

[ippu81]

The snippet of my fanfic

' Adam sighed once again and sat down. He waited until Mariella sat down too. He began. "When Mimi came to live here, or Chicago, with me. She was, well, wild, in a way. Everything was new to her and she was weak and tired, had been through terrible things. But I didn't immediately notice the first night. Mimi didn't sleep she walked around the house all night looking for something, restless and she couldn't tell what. But then I decided to try bedside therapy. We went to the sauna and then I went to bed with Mimi. I took her all by myself and we had the medicine and it was given just as you saw it. When the nightmares started. Charles and I are now doing the same treatment and before you ask why, I can explain. One thing, one thing that Mimi has longed for, sought, needed, and not nearly always got is security, a sense of safety. You know that Damon taught Mimi that he was security. But what happens if your security rips you to shreds and then the security that has pretty much promised to always help you, always take care of you, abandons you. Even though Mimi was anesthetized she knew Damon wasn't there, she knew number one abandoned her. Thank God Charles and I have always been more or less a refuge for Mimi. We have never torn her to shreds ourselves. Never. We've been crazy and unfaithful. We wouldn't hurt her that badly ourselves. I saw Mimi the other night. She was walking just the way she was when she started. I recognized it. I took her and Charles to the sauna. We didn't do anything but take a steam. And then to bed. She fell asleep against me in 20 minutes and slept all night holding on to me. No nightmares yet, just a tremendous need for safety. That's what we're trying to get for Mimi now, at least a little. Security. A feeling of protection so that she doesn't feel like running away, being confused, breaking her mind. Nothing else. " Adam finished his speech.

[pinturas-sgm-aviacion]

1941 02 09 Fw 200 Condor attack on convoy - Howard Gerrard

misplaced this one, is from 1941, not 1942

Convoy HG 53 left Gibraltar on the afternoon of February 6 ,1941, bound for Liverpool with19 merchant ships escorted by the destroyer HMS Velox and the sloop HMS Deptford . U-37 spotted the convoy and attacked at 0440 hours on 9 February, sinking two ships. The U-boat captain reported the sighting, which was relayed to KG 40 in Bordeaux. Rather than sending one or two Condors as usual, KG 40 launched its first mass attack against a convoy with five Condors, led by Hauptmann Fritz Fliegel. They found the convoy 400 miles south west of Lisbon around 1600 hours. One Condor quickly scored hits on the 2,490-ton steamer Britannic, which sank in minutes. As the Condors began another run, the convoy opened fire with every available gun and HMS Deptford was able to damage the wing of Oberleutnant Erich Adam’s Condor. Adam managed to complete his bombing run but had to land in Spain due to the loss of fuel. Nevertheless, the four remaining Condors flown by Fliegel, Buchholz, Jope and Schlosser sank four more steamers, throwing the convoy into total chaos. Here, Schlosser has just turned away after hitting the Britannic, while Adam is beginning his bomb run on th e1,759-ton steamer Jura. This day turned out to be one of the best executed attacks on a convoy by KG 40 and was an ominous indicator to the British Admiralty of the need to rapidly develop new weapons and tactics to deal with this type of low-level threat.

[nicks-disks]

Introduction post <3

Hey, I'm Nick and any pronoun's good for me. I'm a minor, biromantic and asexual, and I'm an Indonesian living in Australia which is pretty neato. My favourite colour is Red, and my main playlist on Spotify is (currently) 45 hours long.

My account will really just me be posting/talking about things that I don't get to talk about often, like fandoms I'm in or music I really like. I'll also be drawing fan art/writing fan fiction so if you're interested there'll be a lot of that.

I'm very very new to Tumblr, like stupid new, I barely know how to format a post so please bare with me.

My main show fandoms but they progressively get worse:

BBC Ghosts, Dead Poets Society, Watcher, Gentleman Jack, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The French Dispatch, Jojo Rabbit, The Thick Of it, Cunk (on everything), The Grand Budapest Hotel, M*A*S*H, Man Who Fell To Earth, House MD, Top Gear/Grand Tour, Robert Erwin, 12 Angry Men.

My favourite musical artists (they're all red flags):

David Bowie, Jeff Buckley, Nick Drake, Radiohead, The Style Council, Tchaikovsky, The Smiths, The Cranberries, Siouxsie And The Banshees, Strawberry Switchblade, The Talking Heads, The Velvet Underground, King Crimson, ELO, Pulp, The Kinks, The Doors, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Joy Division, New Order, Depeche Mode, The Cure, Crowded House, Nirvana, Sound Garden, Blur, Pig With The Face of A Boy, The Clash, The Jam, OMITD, Soft Cell,Led Zeppelin, Stone Temple Pilots, Soundgarden, Joan Baez, Smashing Pumpkins, B-52's, Supertramp, Tom Cardy, Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks, Duran Duran, Elvis Costello and Horrible Histories (they count as musical artists).

Some of my favourite ships are:

Buffy x Faith Anne Lister x Anne Walker Todd Anderson x Neil Perry Steven Meeks x Gerard Pitts The Captain x Lieutenant Havers Adam Kenyon x Fergus Williams Hauptmann (Captain) Klenzendorf x Freddy Finale Ben Willbond x Never Playing a Straight Character Any of the previously stated musicians x myself /j

Instruments I play:

Bass guitar, electric guitar, saxophone, clarinet, trumpet, piano, ukulele and recorder. Honestly, I fully believe I play recorder and ukulele the best, I absolutely shred.

I love history, I love it to pieces. I'm a history girly in the sense that I can, will and happily talk about the history of make up in varying cultures and it's evolution, or the French Revolution and Napoleon, or historical art movements, or Ancient Greece and Rome, Henry and his Wives, Lady Jane Grey, so on and so forth, but also I'm a modern history boy and I will talk about tanks and planes and warfare and trenches and planes again I really really like planes. I LOVE Eastern world history, specifically different types of asian history, and if you do too then you're cool as hell. I enjoy historical and current politics (fat red flag), psychology (woah there's another one), and also I love love love transportation, specifically boats and planes and trains, but planes are my favourite. Also bikes.

If any of these things interest you, I would ABSOLUTELY be interested in talking about any of them! I plan to be as active as possible on here, but I'm still in school so I'll probably be a bit spotty. Feel free to interact, ask questions or completely dunk on me, I'd love to gain some mutuals <3

[brookstonalmanac]

Birthdays 11.15

Beer Birthdays

Grant Wood (1962)

Five Favorite Birthdays

J.G. Ballard; English writer (1930)

Daniel Barenboim; Argentinian-Israeli pianist & conductor (1942)

Georgia O'Keeffe; artist (1887)

Wayne Thiebaud; artist (1920)

Sam Waterson; actor (1940)

Famous Birthdays

Franklin Pierce Adams; journalist & author (1881)

Eusebius Amort; German poet (1692)

Edward Asner; actor (1929)

Gemma Atkinson; actor, model (1984)

Joanna Barnes; actress (1934)

Cynthia Breazeal; computer scientist (1967)

Kevin S. Bright; director (1954)

Carol Bruce; singer & actress (1919)

Mary E. Byrd; astronomer (1849)

Văn Cao; Vietnamese composer, poet & painter (1923)

Jimmy Choo; Malaysian fashion designer (1948)

Petula Clark; country singer (1928)

Gerry Connolly; Australian comedian & actor (1957)

Beverly D'Angelo; actress (1951)

Emma Dumont; actress and model (1994)

Tibor Fischer; English author (1959)

Gloria Foster; actress (1933)

Felix Frankfurter; U.S. Supreme Court justice (1882)

Judy Gold; comedian and actress (1962)

René Guénon; French-Egyptian philosopher (1886)

Arthur Haulot, Belgian journalist and poet (913)

Gerhart Hauptmann; German writer (1862)

William Herschel; German-English astronomer (1738)

Joe Hinton; singer (1929)

Rick Kemp; English singer-songwriter, bass player (1941)

Yaphet Kotto; actor (1937)

Emil Krebs; German polyglot (1867)

Johann Kaspar Lavater; Swiss poet & physiognomist (1741)

Virginie Ledoyen; French actress (1976)

Joe Leeway; English pop singer-songwriter (1955)

Curtis LeMay; air force general (1906)

Anni-Frid Lyngstad; pop singer (1945)

Mantovani; Italian composer (1905)

C.W. McCall; country singer (1928)

Clyde McPhatter; singer (1932)

Bill Melendez; Mexican-American animator & director (1916)

Jonny Lee Miller; English-American actor (1972)

Marianne Moore; poet (1887)

Kevin J. O'Connor; actor (1963)

Ol' Dirty Bastard; rapper and producer (1968)

Daniel Pinkwater; author & illustrator (1941)

William Pitt "the Elder"; English politician (1708)

Alvin Plantinga; philosopher (1932)

Seldon Powell; jazz saxophonist, flautist (1928)

Joseph Quesnel; French-Canadian poet, playwright & composer (1746)

Erwin Rommel; German field marshall (1891)

Randy Savage; wrestler (1952)

Madeleine de Scudéry; French author (1607)

Johannes Secundus; Dutch poet & author (1511)

Sacheverell Sitwell; English author (1897)

Antoni Słonimski; Polish journalist, poet & playwright (1895)

Randy Thomas; singer-songwriter, guitarist (1954)

Rachel True; actress (1966)

Joseph A. Wapner; television judge (1919)

James Widdoes; actor & director (1953)

Thomas Williams; author (1926)

Shailene Woodley; actress (1991)

[brookston]

Holidays 10.21

Holidays

Abby Cadabby Day

American Frog Day

Antillean Day (Bonaire, Curacao, Saba, St. Eustatius)

Armed Forces Day (Honduras)

Babbling Day

Back to the Future Day

Barrel Day (French Republic)

Can-Can Day

Celebration of the Mind Day

Check Your Meds Day

Count Your Buttons Day

Egyptian Naval Day (Egypt)

Everyone Writes Day (UK)

Funafuti (Tuvalu)

Global Clinical Engineering Day

Global Encryption Day

Global Iodine Deficiency Day

GTA Day

Humble Yourself By Having Your Picture Made Wearing A Bicycle Helmet Day

International Day of Action on Big Biomass

Jailhouse Rock Day

Light Bulb Day

Loud Shirt Day

National Alexander Day

National Archives Day

National Breast Reconstruction Awareness Day

National Check Your Meds Day

National Check Your Transmission Day

National Jameson Day

National Nurses’ Day (Thailand)

National Pets for Veterans Day

National Raymond Day

National Shut-In Day

National Throw Short People Day

National Witch Hazel Day

Ndadaye Day (Burundi)

Overseas Chinese Day (Taiwan)

Police Commemoration Day (India)

Reptile Awareness Day

Take Time and Watch the Sunset Day

Trafalgar Day (UK)

USS Constitution Day

Uzbek Language Day

Wonder Woman Day

World Earthworm Day

World Energy Saving Day

World Esports Day

World Feminist Radio Day

World Gaming Day

World War II Victims Remembrance Day (Serbia)

Food & Drink Celebrations

Apple Day (UK)

Caramel Apple Day

Garbanzo Bean Day

International Day of the Nacho (Mexico, US)

National Honey Day (UK)

National Mezcal Day

National Pumpkin Cheesecake Day

Pop Rocks Day

World Apple Day

3rd Saturday in October

Bridge Day (West Virginia) [3rd Saturday]

Frabjous Day [3rd Saturday]

I Love Yarn Day [3rd Saturday]

International Archeology Day [3rd Saturday]

International Independent Video Store Day [3rd Saturday]

National Paint Your Own Pottery Day [3rd Saturday]

International Repair Day [3rd Saturday]

International Sloth Day [3rd Saturday]

National Bridge Day [3rd Saturday]

National Fetch Day [3rd Saturday]

National Harp Day (Ireland) [3rd Saturday]

National Mover Over Day [3rd Saturday]

National Slow Down Day [3rd Saturday]

National Surfing Day (Costa Rica) [3rd Saturday]

National Whole Hog Barbecue Day [3rd Saturday]

O. Henry Pun-Off World Championships [3rd Saturday]

Raw Milk Cheese Appreciation Day [3rd Saturday]

Sharing Economy Saturday [3rd Saturday]

Sweetest Day [3rd Saturday]

World Singing Day [3rd Saturday]

Independence Days

Narsiryn (Declared; 2021) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Abby Cadabby (Muppetism)

Asterius of Ostia (Christian; Saint)

Berthold of Parma (Christian; Saint)

The Birdman (Muppetism)

Bruno Hauptmann Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Charles of Austria, Blessed (Roman Catholic Church)

Domenichino (Artology)

Festival of Parlor Shamanism

Fintán of Taghmon (Christian; Saint)

Great Horn Fair (Pagan)

Hilarion (Christian; Saint)

John of Bridlington (Christian; Saint)

Katsushika Hokusai (Artology)

Laura of Saint Catherine of Siena (Christian; Saint)

Leticia (Christian; Saint)

Lord Bacon (Positivist; Saint)

Maha Saptama Great Ceremony; Hinduism) [7th Day of 9th Moon]

Malchus of Syria (Christian; Saint)

Peter Yu Tae-chol (Christian; Saint)

Phulpati [7th Day of Dashain]

Severinus of Bordeaux (Christian; Saint)

Try Thinking Day (Pastafarian)

Tuda of Lindisfarne (Christian; Saint)

Ursula (Christian; Saint)

Viator of Lyons (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Fortunate Day (Pagan) [43 of 53]

Sakimake (先負 Japan) [Bad luck in the morning, good luck in the afternoon.]

Umu Limnu (Evil Day; Babylonian Calendar; 49 of 60)

Premieres

All the Right Stuff (Film; 1983)

The Awful Truth (Film; 1937)

Bad as Me, by Tom Waits (Album; 2011)

The Banshees of Inisherin (Film; 2022)

Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman (WB Animated Film; 2003)

Bat Out of Hell, by Meatloaf (Album; 1977)

Black Adam (Film; 2022)

Bullets Over Broadway (Film; 1994)

Chase Me (WB Cartoon; 2003)

Comes a Time, by Neil Young (Album; 1978)

The Dead Zone (Film; 1983)

Dune Messiah, by Frank Herbert (Novel; 1969) [Dune #2]

Everything to Everyone, by Barenaked Ladies (Album; 2003)

Footlight Parade (Film; 1933)

For Whom the Bell Tolls, by Ernest Hemingway (Novel; 1940)

The Good Egg (WB MM Cartoon; 1939)

It Can't Happen Here, by Sinclair Lewis (Novel; 1935)

Jack Reacher: Never Go Back (Film; 2016)

The Mandarins, by Simone de Beauvoir (Novel; 1954)

Moonlight (Film; 2015)

My Fair Lady (Film; 1964)

Mystic Pizza (Film; 1988)

Orpheus in the Underworld, by Jacques Offenbach (Operetta; 1858)

The Peripheral (TV Series; 2022)

Plague Dogs (Animated Film; 1982)

Polka Party, by Weird Al Yankovic (Album; 1986)

Rumble Fish (Film; 1983)

The Sheik (Silent Film; 1921)

Sex, by Madonna and photographer Steven Meisel (Book; 1992)

Speed Racer (Film; 2008)

Stooge for a Mouse (WB MM Cartoon; 1950)

Tapeheads (Film; 1988)

What’s My Lion (WB LT Cartoon; 1961)

You Don’t Know What You’re Doin’ (WB MM Cartoon; 1931)

You Want It Darker, by Leonard Cohen (Album; 2016)

Today’s Name Days

Karl, Ulla, Ursula (Austria)

Hilarion, Kajo, Uršula, Zvjezdan (Croatia)

Brigita (Czech Republic)

Ursula (Denmark)

Ulla, Ulrika, Ursula (Estonia)

Ursula (Finland)

Céline, Ursule (France)

Celina, Holger, Ulla, Ursula (Germany)

Christodoulos, Efkratis, Orsalia, Socrates, Sokrates, Sokratis, Ursula (Greece)

Orsolya (Hungary)

Orsola (Italy)

Garlibs, Ginta, Gints, Severins, Urzula (Latvia)

Hiliaras, Raitvilas, Uršulė (Lithuania)

Bergljot, Birger (Norway)

Bernard, Celina, Dobromił, Elżbieta, Hilary, Klemencja, Pelagia, Pelagiusz, Urszula, Wszebora (Poland)

Taisia (Russia)

Uršuľa (Slovakia)

Úrsula (Spain)

Ursula, Yrsa (Sweden)

Ada, Ilarion, Larry (Ukraine)

Celina, Celine, Nobel, Selena, Selina, Ursula, Wanda, Wendall, Wendell, Wendy (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 294 of 2024; 71 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 6 of week 42 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Gort (Ivy) [Day 19 of 28]

Chinese: Month 9 (Ten-Xu), Day 7 (Ren-Zi)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 6 Heshvan 5784

Islamic: 6 Rabi II 1445

J Cal: 24 Shù; Threesday [24 of 30]

Julian: 8 October 2023

Moon: 50%: 1st Quarter

Positivist: 14 Descartes (11th Month) [Lord Bacon]

Runic Half Month: Wyn (Joy) [Day 10 of 15]

Season: Autumn (Day 28 of 89)

Zodiac: Libra (Day 28 of 30)

[nearlynadin]

I can't believe we had a whole book filled with Bran Cornick but didn't know it because he used an alias.

Matt Smith.

[runningwithillustrations]

And so, the wolf fell in love with the coyote

[blog-sliverofjade]

Of Doms & Subs 1: Can't Stop Here, This is Wolf Country

Pairing: Angus Hopper x OFC

Summary:  What's a submissive female to do when she fights her nature and goes on the run as a Lone wolf to avoid being assimilated into a pack?

Word count: 6238

Master List

           “Please, please, please let me get as far as Tacoma,” I begged the flagging gas gauge of my trusty old lime green Jeep.  Experience told me that it was wishful thinking because traffic was bound to hit before Everett.  There was undoubtedly a Seattle pack and the fewer the stops in their area, the smaller the chance of getting picked up by the local werewolves.

           A schoolbus drew parallel to me in the left lane so a giant cartoon lupine mascot filled my peripheral vision.  “Can’t stop here, this is wolf country,” I muttered.

          If I barrelled through, gas up in Tacoma, then I could avoid the dreaded I-5 parking lot in both Seattle and Portland on the Friday of a long weekend.  Even though I started out in the British Columbia Rockies my destination was the central Oregon Cascade mountains, it was faster to cut across lower British Columbia, down the I-5 corridor, and then back across the Willamette Valley.

          This route also happened to avoid the territory of the famous Adam Hauptmann and his pack.  Oh sure, he was the perfect gentleman in the media and his wolves were seemingly well-behaved, but you know what they say about things that are too good to be true.  I was submissive and had no delusions about where I’d end up in the hierarchy.  Hell, humans had taught me that long before I was Changed two weeks ago.  And female werewolves were inevitably absorbed into a pack because some old grand high poobah declared that we couldn’t fly solo.

          So why was I zigzagging all over the Pacific Northwest instead of rolling over like a good little bitch?  Having been submissive for over thirty years, I’d long ago learned avoidance is the best way to avoid conflict.  When that didn’t work, an acerbic tongue and short temper kept most people from getting too close to abuse that aspect of my personality.  Too many people think that passivity is a synonym for doormat.

          My luck, or rather fuel tank, ran out in the U District.  Red and blue lights lit up the rearview mirror just as I squeezed through a yellow light towards a gas station.  “Please don’t be for me, please don’t be for me,” I chanted as I pulled into the lot.

          “Of course not, when has everything gone your way on this godsforsaken trip.”  I lowered my window, plastered a meekly congenial if slightly vapid look on my face, and gripped my license and registration in a sweaty fist.

          “Good evening.”  The officer bent to look in the window.  We both stilled the instinct we caught the other’s scent.  I dropped my eyes immediately, partly to avoid staring at the scar that marred his face, and offered the documentation.  Please don’t ask any questions, I prayed silently.

          “Are you traveling by yourself, Ms. Jones?”  Whatever deities that haven’t been listening to me can go shove it.

          “Yessir.  I’m headin’ back home to Oregon from visitin’ family.”  Mostly the truth.  I did stop in Vancouver to visit my brother.  I put the Southern drawl on fairly heavy.  The twang and the manners to go with often smooth the way with people in uniform, even if I hadn’t lived South of the 44th parallel in fifteen years.

          “Oh, you have family here?”  Must remain calm.  Normal, even breaths will help control the heartrate.

          “Vancouver,” I smiled.  So what if it was Vancouver, Washington and not Vancouver, British Columbia?

          “BC?”

          “Yessir.”  His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at the blithe lie.

          “You must be a member of the Portland pack,” he said, eyeing my ID a little too closely for comfort now.

          “Yessir.”

          “I’m just gonna go run these.”  My dad was a cop and his face would go blank like that whenever he was gathering evidence of my brother’s or my misdeeds.  This was so many flavours of not good.

          The wolf watched him walk back to his car.  She liked the way he smelled.  Familiar and right.  Like family.  If she could, she would have trotted right at his heels.  At that thought, the human half kicked in and started up the engine, slammed her into gear, and peeled back out towards the onramp.

          “Smart.  Real smart, what’re we gonna do now?” I tapped the steering wheel in a staccato rhythm with my thumbs in time to the rock blaring from the sound system.  “No license, no registration, he called your plates in before saying hi, he has your address and…”  I grabbed my phone and shut it off.  If the conspiracy theorists were right, they could track me via the phone.  Is it paranoia if they really are out to get you?

          I crossed over to the 405 and stopped in Bellevue for gas, otherwise I’d be making my getaway on foot.  I leaned against the Jeep, ignoring the damp that seeped from the cold metal through my clothing, and debated the merits of taking the really scenic route of 101.  Or would they expect me to leave I-5 and thus making it the safer choice by hiding in plain sight?  My head was starting to hurt from trying to outthink them.

          The gas fumes seared my nose so I couldn’t smell the driver of the Mazda 3 that pulled up behind me until he approached the squeegee station between us.  Studiously avoiding eye contact, I screwed the cap back on and nestled the nozzle back in its hook.  Slowly, no sudden moves.

          I slid behind the wheel and as the engine turned over a cop car blazed into the station to block me against the Mazda.  It looks cool in the movies.  Less so if you’re the one trapped.  I shut off the engine, folded my arms, and leaned back in a huff.  My license and registration slipped through the three-inch gap at the top of the window.  I snatched them up and tossed them in my purse without pausing in my attempt to mentally set his car on fire.  Unfortunately, lycanthropy didn’t come with pyrokinesis.  In the movies fiery explosions usually follow when there are confrontations in gas stations.  Too bad life wasn’t imitating art in this case.

          “I take it you know the law.”  The scarred officer was not referring to any statutes written by man.  “You can either come and meet our Alpha or I can arrest you and then you can meet him.”  There was no threat in his words.  He sounded as if he were inviting me over for dinner, which might actually be the case.  I resisted the urge to hit the steering wheel.  It would likely crumple now that I had preternatural strength.

          “Fine.  So where am I following you to meet your lord and master?”

          “Matt here will be your driver,” he gestured to the guy who’d blocked me in.  Mazda Matt leaned against his car door with his arms folded across his chest, watching the exchange with a slight smirk.  “Shane will follow in your car.”  A third man I hadn’t noticed before was mirroring Matt’s pose on the other side of the car.

          I sighed and glanced at my phone.  Even if they let me use it, who would I call?  Hi big bro, I’m being kidnapped by werewolves.  Please send in the National Guard.  Tanks work against werewolves, right?  I kicked open the door, forcing the cop to quickly sidestep.  With a snarl on my lips, I chucked the heavy mass of keys attached to a carabiner at Shane.  Damned werewolf reflexes.  If he’d been human they’d have struck his temple and probably dropped him like a stone.

          Matt came forward as if to take my elbow and escort me.  “Touch me and I break your scaphoid.  They’re a bitch to heal even with regeneration,” I snapped.  Just because my wolf was happy about getting taken to meet their leader didn’t mean I had to be.  He drew back his hand, but he did open the door for me and waited till I buckled up before shutting the door.  Why buckle up if I could survive a trip through the windshield?  It’d still hurt like hell.

          “So I heard you’re from Portland,” Matt said as we merged back onto 405 in an attempt to fill the silence that was thick with my seething.

          “Look, I’m no doubt about to get grilled on all this anyway, so let’s skip the twenty questions, ok?”  He shrugged and didn’t seem put out by my rudeness.

          Eventually he turned on the radio.  I fiddled with it until finally settling on 107 the End.  I tried to suppress a smirk at his frown.  Judging by his pre-sets he liked the music just fine.  Not so much me taking control of it.  If some strange wolf was driving my Jeep, Mazda Matt could suck it up.  He should be glad I didn’t put it on country out of sheer spite.

          Thirty minutes later, due to traffic as opposed to distance, we pulled up in front of an expansive house partially obscured by trees.  I shuddered to think of the market value for the area.  They seemed to be having a party due to the sheer number of vehicles parked beside the house.  Shane pulled up as I trailed behind Matt to the door.

          The door opened to a large mudroom with hooks for coats and cubbies for shoes.  About half of them were in use.  Curiously, there were two utilitarian shower stalls that would have looked right at home in a locker room.  I followed Matt’s and Shane’s examples and removed my shoes, tucking them into one of the shelves.

          “We’re having a barbecue on Saturday, so a bunch of us are already here to watch the game,” Shane explained from behind me as I followed Matt down the hallway.  The sounds of men cheering or jeering at a TV screen echoed up from the basement.  My human half was worried about being in a house with a bunch of strange men.  My wolf on the other hand was curious and delighted by the mixture of scents that spoke of wolves.

          How to play this?  Be a general pain in the ass and risk the consequences?  Or be a good little submissive female and not only risk being assimilated, but also subordinate to everyone else.  I always believed in playing to one’s strengths, which meant plan A was go.  Besides, I’d never been accused of having the sense God gave a squirrel.

           Matt stopped by an open doorway and gestured for me to enter.  The man standing behind the desk was certainly not what I was expecting of an Alpha.  For starters, he didn’t look like an arrogant asshole.  Secondly, he was maybe an inch taller than me, and I was considered fairly short.  Underneath his wine, or perhaps blood-red dress shirt he was thin.  The only hint to his status was the intelligence lurking behind his dark eyes, which I merely glimpsed before lowering my own.

           “Welcome, Eleanor,” he came around to shake my hand.  I didn’t know if it was proper protocol or if he somehow knew that I was recently Changed and was sticking to familiar, human customs.  His grip was firm, not crushing like some men, and not too gentle as if he was afraid of breaking me.  It was a bit startling to actually be able to shake his hand properly instead of my hand simply being engulfed by his as was the case with most men.

          “I am Angus Hopper, Alpha of the Emerald City Pack.  You’ve made good time considering you left Revelstoke early this morning.”  Oh that was neatly done, putting me in my place by hinting that he knew more than I suspected, but not exactly how much.  “Have a seat,” he leaned his backside against the desk and gestured to one of the comfortable looking chairs.  It was an order, not an invitation.  And why was I reminded of being called to the principal’s office as written in a Penthouse letter?  Shoving aside x-rated thoughts involving school uniforms and corporal punishment, I tried to look as non-threatening as possible.

          “Been sittin’ in a car so long I’d rather stand if’s all the same.”  Eyes down, properly polite, and heavy on the Southern accent to hide any attitude.

          “I imagine,” he said with a small smile.  “So tell me how you came to be living in Portland, a city currently without a pack.”  Crap on a cracker, there’s no lying my way out of this one.  How does a city that size not have a werewolf pack?

          “I was Changed two-weeks ago,” I sighed and sat in the other chair in defeat, the one he had not indicated, forcing him to shift slightly to face me.  If he didn’t want small acts of defiance, then he shouldn’t have multiple options available.  “I was solo hikin’ in Glacier National Park an’ doin’ a little boulderin’.  One slip an’ I ended up with a broken spinal column at the bottom of a ravine.  By the time John found me, it was Change or die.  Chose what I thought was the lesser o’ two evils.  Stayed with him through the full moon an’ then headed home.”

          “Does John have a last name?” Angus asked with a frown.  My wolf worried that he was displeased with us.  I worried what that might mean for us if he was.

          “He said he’s old an’ the old ones don’t like to give their last names.”  I had to consciously square my shoulders, which had subconsciously rounded under his frown.  He nodded as if the answer wasn’t a surprise to him.

          “And he was willing to let you go so soon?” he asked with an arch of an eyebrow.  It really should be illegal for such a simple gesture to lend an irresistible quality when he was already handsome.  Or that could have just been my imagination because it was hard to read expressions from peripheral vision.

          “Not as such no,” I admitted reluctantly.  “I waited till he went out huntin’ then I booked it back down the mountain.”

          “Why did you feel the need to run?” he asked softly.  Even if I was brave enough to look him in the face I doubted that it would give any clue as to what that tone was in his voice.  I wasn’t necessarily a coward, but I was never comfortable discussing my personal life, let alone with strangers.  Focusing on the rug, or the bookcase, was easier than looking at him.

          “I got a job to get back to an’ I really wasn’t fond o’ the idea o’ bein’ stuck in the backwoods with a crazy old mountain man who’s also a werewolf.”  He was silent, obviously waiting for me to continue.  “I got the feelin’ that even if I was fully in control he wouldn’t let me leave.”

          Angus folded his arms in thought.  “Do you know where John lives?”

          “There’s a map in my glove box.  I could show ya the route to the cabin we stayed at.  There’re no roads, an’ it’s a bit of a hike in.”  Despite my best intentions to the contrary, I was cooperating.  I blamed my wolf, who was eager for his approval.  The Alpha obviously did not like what he was hearing, but it was rapidly becoming apparent that I was not his quarry so I was more than happy to keep him on that trail.  He caught the attention of either Shane or Matt behind me, and a moment later a door shut.  “But I did get the feelin’ that he moves around a lot.”

          “Eleanor,” he began.

          “Ellie, please.”  Angus did frown at the interruption, but hearing my horrible legal name, which the cop must have told him, was like having my fur rubbed the wrong way.

          “Ellie, you’re not in any trouble,” he said soothingly, as if I were a startled horse that might bolt.  Perhaps that analogy wasn’t too far off the mark considering I was practically vibrating with the need to run for the Jeep.  “The manner of your Change was highly unusual, bordering even on breaking our laws.”

          “The law says that no one may be Changed without their explicit permission.  I was coherent enough to give it.”  Ha, that caught him off guard.  That’s right, the newbie knows the rules of the game.  I might not remember anything else around the accident, but things like a weird, hairy mountain man offering to save your life by turning you into a monster tends to stick in a person’s memory.

          “That is true, yes.  However, the second law is that before someone is Changed they must undergo rigorous counseling and testing to determine whether they can become stable wolves,” the Alpha explained.  I forgot for a moment and stared into his dark eyes in shock that someone would make the choice deliberately rather than out of desperation.  I quickly looked away once the surprise faded.

          “A newly Changed wolf lacks control for their first few full moons and requires supervision for the first year,” he continued as if there was no breach of protocol.  “A pack is necessary to guide new wolves.”  He sounded like he had given this speech many times before.  Luckily, he didn’t succumb to dry monotones.

          “Which’s why I was goin’ to pack up an’ move somewhere rural enough I could run off a little steam,” I countered.  “Nurses are always needed everywhere.”

          “This is not just a ‘little steam,’ pup.”  I suppressed a flinch at his growl, as well as a snarl of my own at being called ‘pup.’  He took a deep breath, whether to calm himself or to continue his lecture I didn’t know because the sound of the door opening interrupted.  Shane handed Angus the familiar map, folded in my own fashion that in no way resembled its original creases.  Those things are impossible to refold properly, anyway.  After carefully moving a few items, he unfolded the map over his desk and handed me a pencil.

          “Here’s the trail head.”  I pointed to the circle already marking the spot on Highway 1.  “He follows the main trail through this valley.”  I pointed at the trail, which was already marked from my planning before the trip from hell.  The accent softened as I talked and forgot to maintain it.  “At about here he branches off at different angles each time so that his trail, not being well worn, is hard to pick up until you’re further out and know what you’re looking for.”  I marked an X where I’d gotten lost and decided to just keep following the river down until I found either a trail, humans, or the highway.  “Follow the river up and at the very edge of the park he’s got a cabin right about here.”  I drew a paw print on the spot.  “With the climb in elevation, it would’ve taken me about two days before… before.  Downhill with a light pack, I made it in around eight hours.”

          “Does that say ‘Dogtooth Range’?” Shane asked with a hint of a wry smile.

          “Could’ve been worse.  He could’ve gone for the really obvious with either Grey Fang or Fang Rock,” I smirked and pointed out the so named peaks on the other side of the park.  He snorted a chuckle.

          “You didn’t go to the authorities.”  It was a statement, not a question.

          “And end up in a secret government facility?” I scoffed.  “No thank you.”

          “Where did you stop to rest?” asked Angus.

          “I didn’t.”

          “Fatigue can be as dangerous as alcohol,” he frowned.

          “Have caffeine, will travel,” I quipped.

          “Even though your endurance has improved, you still need rest.  Exhaustion erodes control.”  And back into lecture mode.

          “Like I said, I’m a nurse.  Pulling doubles, even triples, isn’t unusual,” I countered.

          “You passed through the territories of four different packs.”  Someone had probably pulled my credit card history to follow my route in retrospect.  That was fast work, and most definitely illegal.  “How did you avoid detection?”

          “Didn’t stop more’n absolutely necessary,” I shrugged.  “And when I did, I tried to not get out of the car.  Drive-thru, avoided pumping my own gas where I could.”

          With a few taps Angus called someone on his cellphone.  He had to swipe his fingerprint to unlock it, first.  It even had one of those heavy-duty cases, which was probably a good investment for a werewolf.  “Hello, Angus.”  It was still weird how much my hearing had improved, especially back in civilization.

          “Hello, Bran.”  Aw, son of a biscuit.  I really did not want to show up on the Marrock’s radar.  Angus gave a concise report of everything that had happened to me since the accident, as far as he knew, including the pathetic getaway attempt.  I sat back down for the uncomfortable reprise.

          “Send me the map and I’ll have Charles look into it.”  I wasn’t certain how I felt about having just signed John’s death warrant.  The old werewolf wasn’t too specific when he talked about the Grand High Poobah of North America, but he was clear that any time the Marrock sent someone blood was spilled.  “How is she getting on with your pack?”

          “She’s a touch overwhelmed so I thought it best to wait before introducing them en masse.”  I glared at Angus from under lowered lashes, which is harder to do than you would think without looking coy or drunk.

          “If she chooses, escort her to Eugene.  Otherwise I will send someone to fetch her here until she decides where to settle,” Bran said.  My scowl deepened and I opened my mouth to tell them exactly what I thought of their plans.  Shane shook his head almost imperceptibly in warning, though there was more empathy than condemnation in the movement.

          “Please give my greetings to Anna and Charles.”

          “I will.”  The call abruptly ended from the other end.  Our King of the Werewolves was not one for drawn out goodbyes.  Angus took a couple of pictures of the map and sent them off with thumbs flying across the screen fast enough to make a teenager jealous.  Then he did the most supernatural act I’d seen out of a werewolf yet: he carefully folded the map along the original fold lines before handing it back to me.

          I doubled it over and shoved it in my back pocket as I stood.  “If you’ll excuse me, I would like to make it home in time for my shift tomorrow night.”  Although I kept my eyes on the bookshelf, I could feel his stare boring through me till my knees threatened to turn to Jell-O.  Locking one’s knees is a surefire way to eventually pass out, but is effective in the short term.

          “I’m afraid that you will have to change careers.  Even old wolves can have problems around so much blood and the vulnerable.”  The bastard actually managed to sound regretful.

          “I have neither the money nor the inclination to go back to school.  Not to mention I’m a little old for that.”  Must not growl at the Alpha, I mentally chanted for the benefit of my human half.

          “Loans can be arranged, and I’ve known werewolves who were alive when the Magna Carta was signed and earned their doctorate two or three times over.”  He sounded so cool and collected as if we weren’t discussing what was the beginning of what was theoretically to be my extremely long life.  “The more immediate issue is how much control you have.”

          “If I don’t get my act together by this time next year I’m put down.”  Don’t know why I spared him when it would have been so much more fun to watch him squirm.

          “Not only that, but you must be able to shift form and back at will.”  People go through that much pain willingly?  “New wolves need a pack to teach them control and to prevent unnecessary bloodshed when the wolf takes over until control is regained.  We cannot afford one mistake lest we all disappear into secret government facilities at best, or hunted down and exterminated at worst.”  Angus’ voice achieved a deeper timbre that coiled through the room like some living thing as he seemed to be losing patience.  “You will stay the night here.  In the morning Shane and Matt will escort you to Eugene to be presented to the pack there.”  Ooh, presented like a gift.  Who could resist such a command?  Oddly enough, my wolf did not like this plan either, but not because of the authoritarianism.

          “And if I don’t want to join a pack?”  It’s difficult to arch an eyebrow effectively while avoiding eye contact.  But not impossible.

          “That is not an option,” he shook his head.  “Even if you were not so new, our females are so rare they not allowed to become lone wolves.”  That’s what John had said, but I hoped that it was a lie to keep me from leaving.  The whole damn lot of them were so possessive it’s a wonder they even realized they were in the 21st century.  And I didn’t belong to anyone.  Not any more.

          “Fine.  But I’ve driven from here to Eugene many times so I think we can dispense with the escort.”  I waved vaguely over my shoulder to where Shane still lurked by the door.

          “That is non-negotiable.  As a dominant male and even more so as an Alpha I have a responsibility to see a submissive female delivered safely to another pack.”  Oh bloody hell.  John was right.  They could tell from one’s energy, no matter how much I tried to hide behind my sass.  “Not all dominants that you might meet along the way would be as tolerant of your attitude as I am.”

          “More arbitrary rules from on high,” I said flatly and folded my arms.  “Tell me, is His Furriness one of those at the signing of the Magna Carta?  No wonder ya’ll’s thinking’s so medieval.”

          Angus grabbed me by the back of the neck and snarled in my face.  Reflexively, I stiffened and closed my eyes to avoid looking at him.  His grip was tight, but not painful.  One quick twist and he could snap my neck.  I was pretty sure that was one injury from which there was no recovery.

          “The Marrock set down our laws for reasons you cannot yet comprehend.  You don’t have to understand our ways yet, but before God you will show respect,” he snarled.  There wasn’t anything I could say to that, so with an involuntary shudder I went limp in his grasp as my wolf temporarily took over.  Well, there were things I could say, but self-preservation and my wolf stayed my tongue.  After a minute, he released me, stepped away, and turned his back.  The strength I had just experienced first hand was evident in the taut lines of his wiry shoulders.

          My heart pounded in my throat while in the back of my head my wolf howled her anguish at having been chastised.  As a result, my self-preservation went right out the window.  “My respect is earned, not freely given.  If I’d realized that my choices consisted of which pack I was going to be the lowest bitch in, I’d have told John to bugger off.”  At least he’d have made sure that it was quick and clean.

          The Alpha breathed deeply and was quiet for exactly ten seconds.  Basic relaxation techniques to manage the beast within?  And they thought they could teach me something in that area?  When he was done, but not noticeably calmer, he turned around to lean against the desk again.  “We have a rigorous screening process to avoid situations like this.  Dominant lone wolves are the last people who should be teaching pack structure to a submissive female.”

          “Please stop using that term.”

          “‘Female’?”

          “Used as an adjective, it refers to a person.  As a noun, it denotes something less than human.  An animal.”  Like breeding pairs.  Good thing I never wanted to procreate anyway.

          “Get used to the terminology.”  If he were human, he’d have developed a new frown line from this conversation alone.  “In the constant struggles for dominance, females and submissives are the center of a pack since they do not rise in rank, except for when their mate does in the case of females.”  If I didn’t like ‘female,’ I despised ‘mate,’ which seemed a ridiculous term for a species that couldn’t bear children.  “With submissives, dominants don’t have to constantly watch their back.  And the pack will unite to protect these weaker members.”  Oh if he thought I was weak, he had another thing coming.  “Female submissives are so valued that any pack would welcome you.”  ‘Submissive’ as a noun was definitely not an improvement.  “But none would tolerate your disrespect for long.”

          “That’s exactly why I should just be on my merry way,” I said brightly.  “I’m really more trouble than I’m worth.”

          “Nice try,” he smirked.  “Dinner is in thirty minutes.  You’ll want to freshen up.”  True to my nature I wanted to deny hunger despite not having eaten since well before the border crossing.  I’d worn the same clothes for the past twenty-four hours straight, which included a frantic run down a mountain through unfamiliar woods, and my hands still smelled like gasoline.

          I was still noticing just how many interesting smells I was covered in when a tall, perky blonde swept through the door.  She must have practically been listening down the hallway, not that, that was necessary.  Everyone in the house had probably heard me mouthing off.  I’d forgotten about that.  Great first impression.

          “Please show Ellie to the guest suite.”  Mickayla gave a sloppy salute, earning a scowl from her fearless leader, then cocked her head in silent invitation to follow her.

          “You’re up on the second floor,” she said as she led me upstairs.  “Hopefully you’re not afraid of heights after your accident,” she grinned.

          “Are you kidding?  I’ve always wanted to try free climbing, but was too scared.  Now I totally want to,” I said.

          “Don’t mention that to any of the guys or they’ll have kittens.”  Her golden laugh bounced through the stairway.

          “Now I’m picturing a bunch of them at the base of a cliff with a giant trampoline like in cartoons when there’s a fire,” I chuckled and she joined me.

          “This is you,” she waved a welcoming arm through an open doorway.  “Matt already brought your backpack and duffel up.”  My bags were indeed sitting on a low, wide dresser against the nearest wall.  The queen bed with its elegant down comforter faced the door.  A door on the right led to a bathroom, although I had no idea how I was going to be able to do my business in a house full of people who could hear through walls.

          “Thanks.”

          “No worries.  You need anything you just give a shout.  Wait, you’re new.  No actual shouting necessary, just a sort of ‘hey’ so we know you’re not talking to yourself,” she winked.

          “Um, Mickayla?”  She turned back to me.  “What’s it like being in a pack?”

          She stepped into the room with a small smile and shut the door behind her, for all the good that would do.  “I don’t know this John, but sometimes wolves go lone because they can’t handle being in a pack.”

          “Yeah, he did seem more than a little biased.”  I dug out the Ziploc of toiletries and the bundle that was the last clean outfit I’d originally saved for the last day of the drive home, but didn’t dare stop long enough along the way to change.

          “Think of a healthy pack more as one big family.”  Mickayla flopped onto the bed with one leg tucked up under her, yet kept her voice low enough to not carry.  “Complete with the usual amount of dysfunction and bickering.  They’re really like a bunch of brothers, uncles, and cousins who are all trying to protect the little sister.”

          As she talked, I leaned against the bathroom doorway and started to brush my teeth.  They had fuzzy sweaters from the energy drinks I’d downed to stay awake.  “But then again, I’m married,” she continued.  “If you’re single then the unmated ones will all come sniffing around.  It’s not that bad!” she laughed at my expression of dawning horror.  “Even if any of them would push their luck and call down the wrath of their Alpha, the closest dom would thrash them, or if they couldn’t, tag someone in who could.  Mind you, I’m only talking about the Emerald City Pack.  I was Changed two years ago because my mate, Matt, was already a wolf.  Before that there were no other girls for I don’t know how long.”

          “They weren’t kidding when they said that women are rare,” I said around the toothbrush and foam that probably made me look rabid.  She laughed again, although it was hard to tell whether it was at my surprise or the toothpaste.

          “We’re more functional than not here.  But there are some stories out there of Alphas who went bad.  I don’t know much about the Eugene pack, but I haven’t heard any horror stories either,” she shrugged.  “You know, it’s funny, women are supposed to be huge gossips, but most werewolves are men and we all gossip worse than any housewife.”  I laughed and promptly choked, so I shut the bathroom door and started the shower as I finished brushing.

          “You’re going to need to get over that modesty.”  Mickayla’s voice was easily heard through the door and over the running water.

          “Oh?” I asked archly.  She couldn’t see the glare through the door as I undressed.

          “It’s incredibly painful to shift while wearing clothes.  So pack runs, full moons…”

          “I’ve just been told I have to switch careers, move to a new city, am no longer allowed to leave town without a babysitter, and when it comes to my place in a pack my only option is which one do I want to be at the bottom of the pecking order in.  Oh, and all the single guys will be eyeing me like a juicy steak.  Now you’re telling me I have to become an exhibitionist?  No thank you, I’m going to maintain whatever little control over my life I have left.”  It took all my willpower to not punch something.  If I had to move and look for work there was no way I could afford to replace anything in this bathroom, too.

          “If the pack’s good, you’ll be on a pedestal, more or less, not the low man on the totem pole.”

          “Great, I always wanted to be Princess Peach stuck in the castle,” I muttered sarcastically.  “I’ll see you downstairs.”

          “Ellie, I promise that it’s not as bad as it seems,” she said before leaving.

          I stood lost in thought in my office for some time after she left, bathed in the complex layers of smells that confirmed her story.  Mountain air, evergreens, sweat both old and nervous, gasoline, fast food, and no small amount of stress.  Amidst the melange was a thread of fear.  If it was any stronger, I would have called Alan, the pack’s only submissive, to come and help calm her before everyone got riled up trying to fix whatever upset her.  But under the circumstances, her fear was to be expected.  And he was working tonight.

          Tension had been running high in the pack ever since we went public.  Another submissive to ease the strain would be a boon, and a second medic would not go amiss.  Her presence would stir up a rash of dominance fights among the unmated males until she starting seeing someone.  That is, if she could be housebroken.  Time would show whether her defiance was born of ignorance or emotional pressure.  Her knowledge of our primary laws would suggest the latter, though I preferred to avoid premature conclusions.

          A younger wolf, or one who wasn’t as high in the hierarchy, might find such calculations cold, especially in regards to a submissive female whose Change had been particularly traumatic.  But you don’t get to be an old Alpha without assessing the strengths and weaknesses of your pack members and determining how they can best be used for the betterment of the whole.

          As much as I was loath to let her leave, even if the Marrock hadn’t mandated, protocol and courtesy demanded that the Eugene pack have right of first refusal.  Appropriate that Eugene was also referred to as the Emerald City, but we had claimed the name before the Portland pack had relocated there.  Ordinarily I would have my second, Tom, call to arrange things with the other pack, but the unique situation and the fact that he was on duty called for a personal touch, even if my third, Shane, wasn’t preparing for the trip.  Besides, their Alpha, Colin, would be pissed if I dropped this grenade, no matter how attractive or useful she was, in his lap without warning.  No, not a bomb.  Panicked ferret, maybe.  Still not pleasant, but not as disastrous.  And they could be cute, when they weren’t baring their teeth.

          Stifling a sigh, I found Colin’s cell number in my phone and called him up.

Notes: This was written two years ago and was my first fan fiction and my first attempt at writing over 10 years.

Matt and Shane live in Redmond, thus why they were able to carpool so quickly. It was sheer luck that they spotted the lime green, mud-splattered Jeep as they headed down the 405 after Tom asked them to try and track her while he covered I-5 South. Of course, Ellie didn't know that, nor does she think it's lucky at all.

Ellie was hiking along the easterly side of Glacier National Park of Canada in BC, not too far from Revelstoke, which has some great hot springs, by the way.

[afaimsarrowverse]

Personea Dramatis

A/B/O-Verse:

                     The Walking Dead Edition:

Da in meiner “Nach dem Ende”-Reihe von eine Menge von Personen auftreten, hier eine kleine Übersicht über die wichtigsten Charaktere:

 Die Atlanta Gruppe:

 Rick Grimes, Officer Friendly, Ricky, Polizist, der angeschossen wird ins Koma fällt und nach dem Ende der Welt wieder aufwacht, Rudelführer der Atlanata-Gruppe (m/Omega)

 Shane Walsh, Ricks bester Freund und Partner bei der Polizei, ursprünglicher Rudelführer der Atlanta Gruppe (m/Alpha)

 Lori Grimes. Ricks Gefährtin und Ehefrau (f/Beta)

 Carl Grimes, Sohn von Rick und Lori, ca. 12 beim Ausbruch (m/Omega)

 Andrea Harrison, Blondie, Andy, Einarm, Anwältin und Sozialarbeiterin (f/Beta)

 Amy Harrison, Andreas Schwester (f/Beta)

 Daryl Dixon, Redneck, stolzer Besitzer einer Armbrust, gut im Fährtenlesen (m/Omega)

 Merle Dixon, Daryls älterer Bruder, drogenabhängig (m/Alpha)

 Carol Peletier, hingebungsvolle Hausfrau und Mutter (f/Omega)

 Ed Peletier, Carols Ehemann und Gefährte (m/Alpha)

 Sophia Peletier, Tochter von Carol und Ed (f/Omega)

 Glenn Rhee, Pizzabote (m/Omega)

 Morgan Jones, einsamer Überlebender, erster Mensch, den Rick trifft, nachdem er aus dem Koma erwacht (m/Alpha)

 Duane Jones, Morgans Sohn (m/Beta)

 T-Dog, immer bereit sich nützlich zu machen (m/Beta)

 Dale Horvath, stolzer Besitzer eines Wohnmobils, besitzt Lebenserfahrung (m/Beta)

 Morales, Familienvater (m/Alpha)

 Eliza Morales, Morales Ehefrau (f/Omega)

 Louis Morales, Morales Sohn (m/Beta)

 Jacqui, lässt sich von niemanden schlecht behandeln, Freundin von Andrea (f/Beta)

 Jim, Mechaniker, Freund von Dale (m/Beta)

   CDC:

 Edwin Jenner, Arzt (m/Alpha)

 Candace Jenner, seine Gefährtin (f/Omega)

   Die Greene-Farm:

 Maggie Greene, Mags, Farmerstochter, die sich zum eigenen sekundären Geschlecht hingezogen fühlt (f/Omega)

 Hershel Greene, Tierarzt, Farmer, ihr Vater (m/Alpha)

 Beth Greene, Maggies jüngere Schwester, Hershels jüngere Tochter, depressiv (f/Omega)

 Otis, Freund der Familie Greene (m/Beta)

 Patricia, Nachbarin der Greenes, Otis Gefährtin (f/Beta)

 Jimmy, Beths fester Freund (m/Beta)

 Anette Greene, Hershels Frau (f/O)

 Shawn Greene, Anettes Sohn (m/B)

 Arnold Greene, Hershels Neffe (m/B)

   Einsame Wanderer:

 Jenny Jones, Morgans Gefährtin, Mutter von Duane (f/O)

 Randall Culver, geheimnisvoller Fremder (m/B)

 Michonne, Mich, besitzt ein Katana und zwei angeleinte Beißer (f/Alpha-Beta)

 Gabriel, Gabe, Pater Gabriel, Vater Gabriel, ein Priester (m/Beta)

 Eastman, Psychiater und Kriminologe (m/Alpha)

 Siddiq, ein Arzt (m/B)

 Dante, ein Arzt (m/A)

 Georgie, eine Zukunftsgläubige mit Ressourcen (f/B)

   Das Gefängnis:

 Axel, ein Verbrecher (m/A)

 Oscar, ein Verbrecher (m/A)

 Judith Grimes, Tochter von Lori Grimes (f/O)

 Bob Stookey, ein Alkoholiker (m/B)

 Caleb Subramanian, ein Arzt (m/B)

   Woodbury:

 Philip Blake, Brian, der Gouverneur, Rudelführer von Woodbury (m/A)

 Penny Blake, seine Tochter (f/O)

 Milton Mamet, ein Mediziner, Freund von Philip (m/O)

 Caesar Martinez, Anführer der Miliz von Woodbury (m/A)

 Dr. Stevens, ein Arzt (m/B)

 Tim, Mitglied von Martinez‘ Miliz (m/A)

 Shumpert, Mitglied von Martinez‘ Miliz (m/A)

 Karen, Mitglied von Martinez‘ Miliz (f/A)

 Lizzie Samuels, ein Mädchen aus Woodbury (f/A)

 Mika Samuels, ihre Schwester (f/O)

 Ryan Samuels, Vater von Lizzie und Mika (m/B)

 David, ein Bewohner von Woodbury (m/B)

   Tyreeses Rudel:

 Tyreese Williams, NFL-Star, Rudelführer seines kleinen Rudels (m/O)

 Sasha Williams, seine Schwester (f/B)

 Allen, ein Freund von Tyreese (m/B)

 Donna, Allens Gefährtin (f/B)

 Ben, Allens Sohn (m/B)

   Abrahams Rudel:

 Abraham Ford, Rotschopf, ein Soldat auf einer Mission (m/A)

 Rosita Espinosa, seine rechte Hand und Geliebte (f/B)

 Eugene Porter, ein Wissenschaftler, Omega von Abraham und Rosita (m/O)

   Die Chambler Familie:

 Tara Chambler, Möchtergern-Polizstin, mag nur Frauen (f/B)

 Lilly Chambler, ihre Schwester (f/O)

 Meghan Chambler, Lillys Tochter (f/O)

   Brians Rudel:

 Alisha, Taras Geliebte (f/B)

   Die Eroberer:

 Joe, Joey, Rudeführer der Eroberer (m/A)

   Terminus:

 Gareth, Rudelführer von Terminus (m/A)

 Mary, seine Mutter (f/A)

 Unterkühlte Ärztin (f/A)

   Das Grady Memorial:

 Noah, eine Gefangener im Grady Memorial (m/O)

 Dawn Lerner, Alpha vom Grady Memorial, ehemalige Polizistin, TransAlpha (f/B->A)

 Captain Hanson, Dawns ehemaliger Vorgesetzte (m/B)

 Steven Edwards, ein Arzt (m/B)

 Amanda Shepherd, Sicherheitsfrau im Grady Memorial,  TransAlpha (f/B->A)

 Bob Lamson, Sicherheitsmann im Grady Memorial,  (m/A)

   Die Wölfe:

 Owen, Owen Jones, Owen der Wolf, Omega-Wolf, Mitglied der Wölfe (m/O)

   Alexandria:

 Jessie Anderson, eine Künstlerin (f/O)

 Ron Anderson, ihr Sohn (m/A)

 Sam Anderson, ihr jüngerer Sohn (m/O)

 Pete Anderson, ihr Ehemann, ein Arzt (m/A)

 Aaron Raleigh, Opfer eines Hassverbrechens (m/O)

 Eric Raleigh, sein Gefährte (m/O)

 Spencer Monroe, junger Mann unter Leistungsdruck (m/A)

 Deanna Monroe, seine Mutter, die Rudelführerin von Alexandria (f/B)

 Aiden Monroe, ihr anderer Sohn (m/A)

 Reg Monroe, ihr Gefährte (m/O)

 Nicholas, ein Freund von Aiden (m/A)

 Heath, ein Scout (m/B)

 Tobin, Leiter des Bautrupps (m/A)

 Denise Cloyd, eine Medizinstudentin (f/O)

 Enid, eine junge Überlebenskünstlerin (f/B)

 Scott, Scottie, Mitglied des Bautrupps (m/A)

 Olivia, ist für die Vorräte zuständig (f/O)

 Bob Miller, ein Bewohner von Alexandria (m/B)

 Natalie Miller, Mrs. Miller, seine Frau (f/B)

 Carter, ein Bewohner von Alexandria, Mitglied des Bautrupps (m/B)

 Shelly Neudmeyer, eine Bewohnerin von Alexandria (f/B)

 Francine, eine Bewohnerin von Alexandria (f/B)

 Holly, eine Bewohnerin von Alexandria (f/B)

 Bobbi, eine Bewohnerin von Alexandria (f/O)

 Hershel Rhee, ein in Alexandria geborenes Kind (m/B)

 Scotts Junge, Scotts Sohn (m/B)

 Russ, ein Bewohner von Alexandria (m/B)

 R. J. Grimes, ein in Alexandria geborenes Kind (m/O)

 Hund, ein Hund (m/B)

 Abe Espinosa, ein in Alexandria geborenes Kind (m/nkSG)

 Bernie, Magnas Sohn (m/nkSG)

 Samuel, Carols und Ezekiels Sohn (m/nkSG)

 Theo, Carls Freund (m/A)

   Hilltop:

 Paul Rovia, Jesus, ein Abenteurer (m/O)

 Gregory, der Rudelführer von Hilltop (m/B)

 Tammy Rose Sutton, eine Bewohnerin von Hilltop (f/B)

 Earl Sutton, ihr Ehemann der Schmied (m/A)

 Adam Sutton, ihr Sohn (m/B)

 Harlan Carson, ein Arzt (m/B)

   Das Königreich:

 Ezekiel, Zeke, der König, Tigerkönig, Rudelführer des Königreichs (m/Alpha-Beta)

 Shiva, Ezekiels Tiger (f/A)

 Richard, der Hauptmann der Wache des Königs (m/A)

 Benjamin, junger Wachmann, Richards Sohn (m/O)

 Henry, Richards jüngerer Sohn (m/O)

 Jerry, Mitglied der Wache (m/O)

 Nabila, seine Gefährtin (f/O)

 Dianne, manchmal auch Dianna, Mitglied der Wache, Bogenschützin (f/ A)

   Die Erlöser:

 Negan, der Rudelführer der Erlöser, der Alpha der Alphas (m/A)

 Dwight, ein Mitglied der Erlöser (m/A)

 Simon, Negans rechte Hand und Stellvertreter (m/A)

 Gavin, einer von Negans Lieutnants (m/B)

 Alden, Mitglied der Erlöser (m/B)

 Arat, einer von Negans Lieutnants (f/A)

 Justin, ein Erlöser (m/A)

 Jared, ein Erlöser, Untergebener von Gavin (m/A)

 Laura, organisiert das Sanctuary (f/B)

 Regina, leitet einen Außenposten, einer von Negans Lieutnants (f/A)

 Sherry, Dwights Gefährtin (f/B)

 Emmet Carson, ein Arzt, Harlan Carsons Bruder (m/B)

 Fat Joey, einer von Negans Lieutnants (m/A)

 Frankie, eine von Negans Ehefrauen (f/B)

 Tanya, eine von Negans Ehefrauen (f/B)

 D.J., einer von Lauras Untergebenen (m/B)

 Jed, unzufriedener Erlöser (m/A)

 Timmy, ein Mitglied der Erlöser (m/B)

 Anna, seine Gefährtin (f/B)

 Jacob, Erlöser A, einer der Erlöser, ein Vertrauer von Shane (m/A)

 Avery, Erlöser B, einer der Erlöser, ein Vertrauter von Shane (m/A)

 Ken, ein Erlöser (m/A)

 Tony, ein junger Erlöser, Anhänger von Jed (m/A)

 Rob, ein Erlöser (m/B)

 Darren, ein Erlöser (m/B)

   Die Müllmenschen:

 Jadis, eigentlich Anne, Künstlerin,  Rudelführerin der Müllmenschen (f/A)

 Winslow, ein Experiment von Jadis (m/A)

 Brion, gehört zu Jadi‘ Rudel (m/A)

 Tamiel, Jadis‘ Geliebte (f/A)

 Gracie, ein Baby (f/O)

 Oceanside:

 Cyndie, junge Rudelführerin von Oceanside (f/B)

 Rachel Ward, Cyndies rechte Hand (f/B)

 Beatrice, Freundin von Cyndie (f/B)

   CRM:

 Jadis Verbündeter, ein Soldat (m/B)

   Jocelyns Rudel:

 Jocelyn, Joss, alte Freundin von Michonne (f/A)

 Mitchell, ein Teenager (m/B)

 Gina, ein Teenager (f/B)

 Linus, ein Kind (m/A)

 Winnie, ein Kind (f/O)

   Magnas Rudel:

 Magna, Rotschopf mit Vergangenheit (f/A)

 Yumiko, Miko, ihre Anwältin und Geliebte (f/A)

 Luke, Musiklehrer (m/B)

 Connie, taubstumme Reporterin (f/B)

 Kelly, ihre jüngere Schwester (f/B)

 Bernie, Bernie mit seinem blöden Shirt (m/B)

   Die Flüsterer:

 Lydia, Omega, ein Mädchen unter einer Hautmaske (f/O)

 Alpha, ihre Mutter, Rudelführerin der Flüsterer (f/A)

 Beta, Alphas Geliebter, Beta der Flüsterer (m/A)

   Shanes neues Rudel:

 Alicia Clark, eine Überlebende (f/B)

 Nick Clark, ihr Bruder (m/O)

 Strand, sein Alpha (m/A)

   Aus der Welt zuvor:

 Mr. Grimes, Ricks Vater (m/A)

 Mrs. Grimes, Ricks Mutter (f/O)

 Mr. Walsh, Shanes Vater (m/A)

 Mrs. Walsh, Shanes Mutter (f/O)

 Lucille, Negans Gefährtin (f/O)

 Josephine Greene, Maggies Mutter (f/O)

 Mr. Dixon, Vater von Daryl und Merle (m/A)

 Jordan Clark, ein Mitschüler von Rick (m/A)

 Melissa Chan, eine Mitschülerin von Rick (f/O)

 Kathy Lane, eine Mitschülerin von Rick (f/O)

 Mindy Morrow, Shanes Highschool Freundin (f/B)

 Negans Vater (m/A)

 Negans Mutter (f/O)

 Toby, Kindheitsfreund von Negan (m/A)

 James, Kindheitsfreund von Negan (m/O)

 Hannah, Loris bester Freundin (f/B)

 Denises Bruder (m/O)

 Papa, Lydias Vater (m/O)

 Siddiqs Gefährtin (f/B)

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

Au Cafe Pequod, Chapter Nine and Epilogue

Previous Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight

ORADOUR-SUR-GLANE, HAUTE-VIENNE, FRANCE LATE MAY, 1944

Under any other circumstances, Mulder would have found that spring, the months after his and Scully's secret marriage, to be a time of unabated bliss. The weather is fine, the countryside around him is beautiful, and he spends nearly every evening alone with a woman so perfect, Pygmalion himself could not have dreamed her into existence. With the first difficult months of her pregnancy behind her, Scully is entirely suffused in a healthy glow, her hair shining and her pale skin luminous. Her belly remains relatively flat, even as she is about to begin the fifth month, with what little roundness there is hidden easily by her voluminous work skirt and apron. It's a relief to both of them, as it has bought them some time to prepare for their next step. Scully has begun selling more of her extra butter and cream, rather than trading for goods, and has been slowly decreasing the size of her menu. She claims to her patrons that the food shortages are beginning to affect her at last, but in truth, she is hiding the money away. A bag sits packed in her bedroom wardrobe, ready to go at a moment's notice.

Before Scully's pregnancy has the chance to begin to show, she and Mulder are leaving.

Mulder has had Frohike pay a contact to forge French identification papers for him. With his perfect, unaccented French, he can easily pass for a native-born Frenchman. He has also paid for a new set of papers for Scully, under a different name, in case an arrest warrant is put out for her once she disappears. They have set a definite departure date- June fifteenth- but both are ready to leave immediately should the need arise.

They do not discuss their plans often, however, because Scully is completely destroyed by the idea of leaving her beloved cafe, not to mention her mother's farm, to be taken over by the Nazis. She and Mulder are both well aware that once they disappear, Oberst Spender will first ransack her home in search of evidence, and then, most likely, divide up the spoils amongst his men. She has packed what few priceless possessions can be carried easily- her parents' wedding photograph, pictures of herself and her siblings growing up, her father's love letters to her mother, her brothers' letters from sea- but still, many family heirlooms will be left behind. And no family heirloom is more precious to her than the Cafe Pequod.

Mulder wishes badly that they could chance telling someone in the village of their departure, some trusted friend who will take over the running of both the farm and the cafe, but he and Scully have agreed that it would be too risky. The only people who know all of their their plans- including their marriage and Scully's pregnancy- are Frohike, Langly, and Byers, who will meet them at a prearranged place on the night of June fifteenth. They are in daily contact now, with the time of departure so close, so that if Mulder and Scully need to change their plans, to move the date, their friends will be prepared.

Hauptmann Skinner is aware that Mulder and Scully will be leaving soon, but that's the extent of his knowledge. Mulder had debated telling him more, but Skinner himself had demurred, insisting that the less he knows, the better. Even without knowing about Scully's impending motherhood, Skinner has no trouble understanding why Mulder feels he must leave, and leave soon. The atmosphere around them- the sense of waiting, of foreboding, of flat-out dread- speaks for itself. There is only one topic of conversation in the camp these days.

Invasion.

They know it's coming. It is inevitable that, at some point, Allied forces will cross the English Channel and attack the German-held beaches of France. Mulder knows, from the rumors that abound- which Skinner has confirmed- that intelligence believes it will be very, very soon. And when it happens, their regiment will cease to be part of an occupying force and will instead become part of a defending army. The regiment will likely be sent west, to the new front, into what is sure to be a long and bloody battle. There is every possibility Mulder will not return. It's a possibility that would have been horrific enough to Scully a few months ago, but now, it's a chance they cannot afford to take. Mulder is adamant: he will be with Scully to see their child into the world.

With the Allied invasion so clearly on the horizon, activity within the Resistance has ramped up considerably. Scully is no longer seeing as many Allied pilots- they're being dropped well north of Oradour-Sur-Glane, in anticipation of the beaches being attacked, and the Resistance is trying to keep them in the area so they'll meet up with the invading forces- but with the German army's attention focused so intently on the west, more and more refugees are taking advantage of the smaller numbers of troops in the south and east, and are making their way to Spain and Switzerland. The non-military refugees, as a rule, are not often injured and as such do not typically pass through Scully's apartment, but her help is still necessary to organize their transport. She is in church often, passing messages to the priest, and when she is not there, she's out at her mother's farm, talking to the farm hands, or in her kitchen, baking endless pies. Mulder worries that she's overexerting herself, but he knows well enough how she'll react if he suggests that she slow down. He consoles himself with the knowledge that, in barely two weeks, they will be on their way to a place where all of this will no longer be Scully's responsibility.

The plan, at this point, is to move in the opposite direction of the fleeing refugees Scully is helping to hide, and to make their way north and west, towards the new front that will be opened any day now. They will slip behind the advancing Allied troops and travel to Calais, then try to find transportation across the channel to England, where they will meet up with Maggie Scully, if she is still there. If they are caught by Allied soldiers, they will identify themselves as Resistance, which should guarantee their safe passage. If they are caught by Germans, they will show their forged identification papers and claim to be a married couple on their way to fetch Mulder's elderly mother and escort her east, away from the coming conflict. It's not a foolproof plan, but it's the best they've been able to come up with.

--------

On the evening of June third, as the cafe is emptying out for the night, a dark-haired man in civilian clothing strides through the door and approaches Scully at the register. He's not someone Mulder has seen before, which is unusual in a town this small. By the look on Scully's face, she doesn't know him, either.

"I want to place an order for a pie," he says brusquely, and Scully nods, reaching for her ever-present notepad.

"What kind would you like?" she asks politely. If she's thrown off by the man's manner, she doesn't show it.

"Cherry," he says. "To feed three people." Scully writes this down.

"And when do you need it by?" she asks.

"By the thirteenth of June," says the man. Scully raises her eyebrows.

"That's quite a distance in the future," she remarks.

"Will that be a problem?" The man's tone is surprisingly cold, and Mulder tenses, ready to intervene if necessary.

"No, of course not," Scully replies. "Come back on the eleventh of June, and your order will be ready." The man nods and turns to go without another word. As he passes, he turns his head slightly and glowers at Mulder before sweeping out and into the night.

The hairs along the back of Mulder's neck are suddenly standing on end.

Frenchmen, certainly, have no cause to like Mulder, or any other German soldier. But most of them, particularly in this small town, are timid, unwilling to risk any sort of direct confrontation. And the glare this man has just thrown at Mulder clearly says that, had Mulder taken offense, the man would have been quite willing to fight back. Something about this does not feel right.

"Scully," he says later, with the cafe door closed and locked against the outside world, "I think we should move up our departure date." She looks up at him from where she's slicing up meat for tomorrow's sandwiches.

"Because of that man?" she asks. "The one who ordered the pie right before we closed?"

"There was something about him that spooked me," he says. "Call it gut instinct, but I don't think he's what he seems."

"He spooked you badly enough to want to leave early? Really?" She transfers the sliced meats to a large tray and carries them to the refrigerator, which Mulder opens for her. "It seems a little extreme to change everything on just a hunch." She closes the refrigerator and turns, leaning against it and looking up at Mulder skeptically.

"Just... trust me on this, okay, Scully?" he asks. "Please?" He reaches out and takes her hand, drawing her closer, and rests his other hand on the tiny bulge that is their child. It's barely noticeable under her skirt, but Mulder has spent hours running amazed hands over it while she's naked, and he knows it's there. "I just... I don't want to take any chances if we don't have to. There's too much at stake." She sighs and covers his hand with her own.

"I'll get word to Frohike," she says. "What should the new date be?"

"Let's make it the tenth," he suggests. "That way, we'll be a good distance away before he comes back for his order... or for whatever else he's after."

Mulder very rarely stays the entire night with Scully- it's dangerous to risk sleeping late and missing morning roll call- but tonight, he makes an exception. He doesn't think the dark-haired man will return, but he's not taking any chances, either. He sleeps poorly, waking at every tiny sound, and before the sun has risen, he is sitting on the edge of Scully's bed, lacing up his boots. He bends to kiss her, and she stirs sleepily. He lowers the duvet and presses a gentle kiss to her stomach, as well.

"It's not like she can feel that, you know," murmurs Scully without opening her eyes. Mulder grins.

"Doesn't matter," he says. "I can feel it." She gives him a sleepy smile and reaches up, pulling him down for a proper kiss. "And how do you know it's a girl, anyway?"

"I don't," she says. "I just have a feeling, that's all."

"Isn't there some way for you to tell?"

"There are a bunch of old wives' tales," she says, "but every last one of them is complete and utter nonsense." She opens her eyes, finally, looking up at him. "You're just going to have to be patient, I'm afraid." He bends to kiss her one more time.

"I'll be back this evening, all right?" he says. She nods and closes her eyes again, already drifting back to sleep. She will get up in another hour, he knows, and walk out to the farm to milk the cows, before going to the church to see the priest, who will get a message to Frohike. By the time he sees her this evening, with any luck, their date of departure will have officially changed to June tenth.

The encampment is still quiet when Mulder returns, shrouded in a pre-dawn fog. He has several hours before he'll be required to muster for roll call, and he decides to try and get a little more sleep to make up for his restless night. Creeping into his tent, he finds both of his tent mates snoring loudly, and he climbs into his cot, hoping they'll wake up, find him here, and assume he came in late. He dozes off at once.

When he wakes, hours later, the camp is full of noise and panicked energy. Mulder's tent mates are long-gone, and he realizes he's likely missed morning roll-call, though in this excitement, his absence may have gone unnoticed. He leaves his tent, deciding to find Hauptmann Skinner and make his excuses for oversleeping. The atmosphere in camp is positively frantic, and Mulder knows there is only one thing that can be causing it. Somewhere to the west, he is sure, the Allied invasion has begun.

Skinner is standing in front of his tent, looking for all the world as though he has been waiting for Mulder to show up. He says nothing, only beckons for Mulder to follow him into his tent. He lets the flap fall behind him as soon as they enter, and turns to face Mulder.

"Early this morning, in Normandy," says Skinner, before Mulder can even ask the question. "No word on how it's going yet, but...." He shrugs. "It's only a matter of time, really. If it doesn't work today, they'll regroup and try again. They can't win without opening up a western front and they know it." Mulder asks the only question that truly concerns him at this point.

"Are we moving out?" he asks, his heart in his throat.

"Not yet," says Skinner. "We're to remain here and deal with the local Resistance as best we can. They've been playing havoc with the rail lines, and command doesn't want the supply lines interrupted. The western coast is already heavily fortified, so unless the Allies progress much more quickly than expected, I estimate we have at least a month here before we're ordered to move on." He fixes Mulder with a pointed stare. "I'll understand, of course, if you feel you need to change your own plans, if you need to leave earlier." Mulder swallows.

"I think we'll be safe with our current timetable," says Mulder carefully. He knows Skinner doesn't want an exact date.

"That's good," says Skinner. "I don't want to know anything ahead of time... but tell me when the time comes, Mulder, and I'll do what I can to see that you get away clean. I can do that much for you."

"Thank you," says Mulder, touched. Skinner doesn't have to risk himself like this, but he's a good, decent man. "Sir..." says Mulder hesitantly, "why don't you come with us?" He feels certain that Scully will be all right with him extending this invitation without asking her first. Skinner has been a staunch ally to them, and it doesn't seem right to leave him behind. His offer clearly takes his captain by surprise.

"I appreciate that, Mulder," Skinner says, "but it would be wrong for me to leave now. Most of my men aren't here by choice. I can't abandon them to the likes of Spender. If we're in battle, he won't hesitate to sacrifice every last one of them no matter how impossible the situation... if I'm there, I may be able to surrender on their behalf and save their lives. I have to do what I can to protect them." For a moment, Mulder feels ashamed, but Skinner seems to sense this. "I'm not judging you for leaving, Mulder. I know it's what you have to do. You have other responsibilities now... I'm in a completely different position than you are. I don't have children." It takes a moment for his words to penetrate... but when they do, Mulder looks up in shock.

"Did Scully tell you?" he asks. He doesn't believe that she would have, not without letting Mulder know first, but....

"No, she didn't," says Skinner. "But I started paying attention the moment she told me she was planning on leaving, because I couldn't imagine anything else that would make her step back from the fight. And recently, she's starting to show." Mulder is suddenly terrified.

"Has anyone else noticed?" he asks. "Should we leave now?"

"Nobody else knows, Mulder," says Skinner. "I'm confident of that. I've only noticed because I've been watching, because I've been expecting to see it. If anyone else had, I promise you, it would be all over the camp by now. I don't think you need to take off immediately... but I would make it sooner, rather than later."

--------

Saturday, the tenth of June, is the longest, most stressful day of Mulder's entire life.

He wakes in the morning feeling as though he has not slept at all, which is closer to the truth than he'd like it to be on a day when he knows he'll need every last bit of energy he can muster. He had stayed late at Scully's the previous night, both of them assuaging their terror of what they are about to do in endless bouts of urgent lovemaking. Back in the camp, he had been too full of nervous energy to sleep properly, and now, with the day of departure finally upon him, his nerves are buzzing with fear and adrenaline. His duties are interminable, his meals are like sawdust in his mouth, and though he knows it's wise to go into tonight with a full stomach, he has difficulty eating anything at all.

In the early evening, Mulder catches sight of Hauptmann Skinner from across the mess tent and gives him a pointed look. His captain nods shortly, and Mulder follows him back to his tent at a distance.

"It's tonight," he informs Skinner quietly. "I'm going to the cafe now, like normal, and staying after Scully locks up. We'll meet our escort at midnight." Mulder has not packed anything; all necessities are in the bag in Scully's wardrobe, except for the forged identification papers, which are tucked into Mulder's uniform jacket. Mulder leaving camp with his rucksack would be tantamount to announcing his plans to the entire regiment.

"All right," says Skinner. He looks down, his hands in his pockets. "Do you... would you mind much if I came to the cafe with you, just for a bit?" he asks. "I'd very much like to have a cup of coffee with the two of you, after the cafe closes for the night. I don't want to impose, but...." He leaves the rest unsaid. After tonight, it's highly unlikely that Skinner will ever see Mulder or Scully again.

"We'd both like that very much," says Mulder. "Is there anything you need to do, or are you ready to leave now?"

"I'm ready," says Skinner. "Let's go."

The two men leave Skinner's tent and make their way through camp. Mulder thinks, with no small amount of joy, that this will be the last time he winds through these tents, the last time he tries to ignore the glares of men that he knows hate him, the last time he avoids meeting up with Jeffrey Spender and his sidekicks.

And speaking of Spender....

As they pass the farmhouse where Oberst Spender makes his headquarters, Mulder spies the man himself standing out front with his son, several officers, and two men in civilian clothing, whose backs are to Mulder and Skinner. As they draw level with the farmhouse, one of the men turns his head so that Mulder can see his face. Mulder freezes in place. His blood runs cold.

"What is it?" whispers Skinner, stopping and leaning close to Mulder.

"That man, talking to Spender," hisses Mulder. "He came into the cafe two weeks ago." He looks at Skinner, suddenly terrified. "He ordered a pie. Something felt off about him... he's the reason Scully and I changed our departure date, the reason we moved it up." Skinner's mouth narrows into a thin line.

"Mulder," he says, his voice low and tight, "I think you should go get Scully and leave. Now." He puts a hand on Mulder's arm. "I'll go with you to the cafe. Get her to go to the kitchen with you, leave from the back door, and hide out until it's time to meet your escort." He looks back up towards the farmhouse. "Something about this doesn't feel right." But at that moment, Oberst Spender catches sight of them. He strides over, flicking ash from his cigarette as he walks. Mulder turns his back to the farmhouse quickly, not wanting the dark-haired man to recognize him from the cafe.

"Hauptmann Skinner," says Spender. "You will need to assemble your company and proceed immediately to the center of town. We've received a report that a captured German officer from another regiment is being held hostage by the Resistance somewhere in the village, and I intend to find him, release him, and deal with the perpetrators." He casts a sidelong look at Mulder. "I have an excellent idea about where the officer is being held, and I'm sending my son and his men ahead of the main force to try and confirm my suspicions and bring him out before the traitors have a chance to move him." Mulder cannot breathe. He knows for sure that Scully is not holding anyone captive in the cafe... but he is equally certain that the cafe is exactly where Jeffrey Spender will be heading.

"Sir," he says, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking, "might I go with him?" Mulder is reasonably confident that, given the right circumstances, he could easily overpower the younger Spender and get Scully away. It's not the clean escape they were hoping for, but right now, it's looking like the best option. "I speak better French, and I believe I could be of assistance in questioning-"

"You will remain with your unit, Obersoldat Mueller," says Spender shortly. "I do not foresee that there will be a need for much... questioning." Mulder opens his mouth to argue, but Skinner takes his arm firmly and leads him away.

"You say anything, you're just going to get yourself locked up," hisses Skinner, as Mulder tries to fight him. "The best thing we can do is get into town. You may be able to steal her away in all the confusion."

"But you heard him," says Mulder. "They're going to kill her." Skinner shakes his head.

"He's saying that to rile you up and you know it," says Skinner. "They're not going to find any German officer being held hostage in her apartment, are they?"

"No," says Mulder.

"Which means they'll know they've got it wrong... so they will need to question her. I don't know where this imprisoned officer is being kept, or if he's even real- for all we know, this could be a diversion set up by the Resistance so that they can hit us somewhere vital- but I do know that until he's located, they will keep Scully alive."

When Mulder's company arrives in the town square, the scene that greets him fills him with dread. The square is full of frightened villagers, some in their nightclothes, many holding terrified, crying children, all clutching their identification papers. More are being rounded up- the entire town is being gathered together. Soldiers are blatantly looting every shop and home Mulder can see, smashing windows and throwing people's goods and belongings out into the streets. His stomach clenches painfully: there will be no going back from this. What is going on right now has a definite feel of finality about it, of all the stops being pulled out.

If Oradour-Sur-Glane still stands by morning, it will be a miracle.

Skinner calls the company to a halt, but makes no move to join in the melee. Throwing caution to the wind, Mulder breaks rank and runs to his captain's side. He can see by Skinner's expression that he has reached the same conclusion as Mulder: the town is about to be destroyed.

"We have to get to her," says Mulder. "She must be here somewhere." Skinner nods. He turns back to his men, raising his voice in a commanding shout.

"You men are to remain here, in formation," he orders firmly. "You will serve as backup should the companies already in action require it. Obsersoldat Mulder and myself will seek out the commanders and obtain further instruction." Without waiting for a response, Skinner turns and strides away, Mulder hurrying to keep up.

"Will they listen?" he asks Skinner.

"I have no idea," says Skinner. "I imagine the ones who want to join in, will... and the ones who don't will use my ordering them to stay put as an excuse to stay out of it. It's the best I can do right now." They are nearing the edge of the square. "I don't know if Spender and his goons will still be at the cafe, but I think we should start there," he says. "Keep your eye out in case they're already brought her out to the town square." Mulder nods agreement... but ten feet into the crowd, it's easier said than done. He and Skinner are quickly separated as the panicked townspeople press between them, and spotting one small woman amongst them seems nearly impossible. German officers are striding amongst them, checking identification papers. It takes far too long for Mulder to get to the other side of the square, and the high street on the other side is just as crowded and chaotic.

The lights at Cafe Pequod are all off, but the front door is standing open. Whether it's from patrons being dragged out to the square, or from Spender rushing in in search of Scully, Mulder doesn't know, but either way, he is terrified of what he'll find inside. There's no sign of Skinner yet, so he flies into the cafe without waiting, his pistol drawn and held ready.

The main room is completely empty- and completely demolished. The soldiers have already been through here, which means it's unlikely Scully is inside, but still, he has to check. He harbors a faint, but persistent hope that the commotion outside began before Spender's arrival, that perhaps Scully has had time to flee and is even now making her way to their meeting place. If her bag is gone from her wardrobe, he'll know that's what's happened... but he doesn't think it likely.

The kitchen is just as empty as the dining room, and Mulder only pauses long enough to be sure that she's not hiding anywhere before barreling upstairs to her apartment. It is also empty, though it doesn't appear to have been looted- yet. There is no sign of Scully anywhere... and his heart sinks when he throws open her wardrobe and sees her bag lying exactly where she had left it.

They have her.

Mulder grabs the bag, throwing it over his shoulder, and tears back downstairs. As he rounds the kitchen door and enters the dining room, he nearly smacks into Skinner, who is running towards the kitchen, in search of him.

"She's not here," pants Mulder, panic beginning to set in now.

"I know," says Skinner. "I got one of the other captains to talk to me- he says they saw Jeffrey Spender heading back towards camp with her just as all of this was kicking off." Mulder is aghast.

"Back at camp?" he moans. "I could have just hidden myself and stayed behind!"

"Well, we'll need to get back there now," says Skinner, "and we need to take the back route. We can't go back the way we came." Outside, there is a sudden cacophony of desperate screaming, coming from the square.

"What's going on?" asks Mulder.

"They're separating the men from the women and children," says Skinner grimly. Mulder freezes in horror.

"Skinner...."

"I know, Mulder," he growls. "But there is nothing we can do, do you hear me? Either you run out there, try to put a stop to things, and get shot, and Scully gets killed back up at camp, or we get her out of there and you flee and maybe someone will be left to tell the world what's happened here tonight." He grabs Mulder by the arm, rushing him out the back door. They pass very few soldiers on the side streets- most of them are in the square, almost the entire village having been emptied out by now, and those soldiers who are left are more intent on rounding up stragglers than on Skinner and Mulder. As they pass the street that leads to the church, the same place where Scully has passed on coded messages under the guise of attending mass and confession, the same place where, months before, he and Scully stood before the priest and promised to love only each other for the rest of their lives, Mulder sees a line of women and children being herded roughly through the church's front doors. For a moment, he is unable to go on, and he actually takes a step towards the church before Skinner grabs his arm.

"Mulder, come on!" he insists. "There is nothing you can do, do you hear me? We need to go!" Still, Mulder does not move, and Skinner finally steps between him and the sight of the children being forced into the church. "Mulder, Scully needs you! Let's go!" The sound of Scully's name brings Mulder back to himself, and he turns and continues on, doing his best to block out the sound of the frightened sobbing behind him. As he passes, he catches sight of Oberst Spender, standing off to the side, calmly smoking a cigarette, watching the proceedings with an expression of supreme detachment.

Mulder has always suspected that his father's friend was evil, but it is not until this moment that he realizes that he is beyond that. He is not even human.

The camp is empty when they arrive. Skinner wastes no time with checking tents; rather, he leads Mulder straight to the farmhouse headquarters. Glancing through a downstairs window into the sitting room, they can see Scully, her hands bound, kneeling near the center of the room. Jeffrey Spender stands before her, and behind her stand two of Spender's men, their guns drawn, as well as the dark-haired man from the cafe.

"Can we shoot them through the window?" whispers Mulder. Skinner shakes his head.

"We can bring down two quickly enough, but not all four... and if we miss, we can't stop them from shooting her from out here. We need to get inside." Mulder follows Skinner around the side of the house to the kitchen door. It mercifully does not squeak as they ease it open. Both men drop low and creep through the empty kitchen, towards the hallway to the sitting room. Mulder can hear Spender's smug voice as they draw nearer.

"Do you really expect us to believe you have no idea where the kidnapped officer is being held?" Spender is asking. "We know you've given aid to the Resistance. We know your mother has hidden criminals at her home. We've seen your 'friend' buying medicines and bringing them to you."

"I'm a doctor," Mulder hears Scully say, not a trace of fear in her voice. "I treat whomever is brought to me; I don't care what side they're on. That's what all of the medicines are for."

"You're a cafe owner, not a doctor," says Spender derisively.

"People can be more than one thing at once, you know," says Scully. "I'm a doctor and a cafe owner. Just like you're an idiot and an asshole." There is a crack of a hand meeting flesh, and Mulder hears Scully cry out in pain. At this, he cannot wait any longer, and trusting that Skinner will follow him, Mulder charges down the hall and into the sitting room. He fires off two rounds quickly, killing two of Spender's men. The third man, though, gets off a shot the instant before Skinner takes him down, and behind him, Mulder hears Skinner grunt in pain and surprise. He whirls to see his captain stumbling and falling, blood pouring from a wound on his leg. He lands on the floor behind a sofa, his gun slipping from his grasp and clattering across the floor, out of his reach.

Mulder's momentary distraction is all the time Spender needs. In a flash, he is behind Scully, hauling her to her feet, and when Mulder turns back, Spender is behind her, his pistol held to her head. Mulder is no marksman: he cannot guarantee that if he fires, he will hit Spender and not Scully... and in any case, Spender will pull the trigger the moment Mulder does. He is stuck.

"You have a long habit of falling in with the wrong crowd, Fox," sneers the younger man. "I keep hoping you'll grow out of it, but I'm starting to think you'll never learn."

"What the hell are you talking about, Spender?" demands Mulder. If he can keep Spender talking, he can buy time to figure out a way out of this mess.

"I'm talking about your choice of company," says Spender. "This lying French whore, for one. Your traitorous schoolmate from Berlin- what was his name? Rolf? That coward with his precious newspaper full of lies." Spender's lip curls. "And of course, your stupid sister." Mulder's blood boils. His hand begins to shake.

"Don't you dare say a word about my sister, you pathetic little rat," he growls. Spender laughs coldly.

"That's rich, you calling me a rat," he snarls. "You know, I hoped, for months, that you would wise up and turn your sister in before she got completely out of hand. That's what I would have done... but then, I understood that loyalty to country is more important than loyalty to family." He smirks. "So I turned her in for you."

For a moment, the rush of rage in Mulder's head is so great, he forgets where he is and what is going on. He forgets the conflict outside, the need to escape, even forgets that he is holding a gun. He has actually taken a step in Spender's direction before Spender presses the gun harder into Scully's temple. Her sharp intake of breath is all he needs to bring him back to himself again.

"Now, this is what we're going to do," says Spender. "You're going to drop your weapon and kick it over here. I'm going to tie you up, and we're going to wait here for my father to come back and deal with both of you. I imagine, if you beg nicely enough, he'll kill her quickly and you won't-"

BAM.

The gunshot takes all three of them by surprise, but none so much as Spender. The bullet hits him directly in the forehead and he collapses in a heap, Scully falling to the floor near him. She rolls to the side and leaps to her feet, her balance hampered slightly by her bound hands. She and Mulder turn in the direction of the shot.

Hauptmann Skinner is barely visible lying on his side behind the sofa, with only the top half of his head and the arm holding the gun protruding into the room. While Mulder had distracted Spender, he had crept, slowly, to his fallen gun and, unnoticed by everyone else in the room, had taken aim and fired.

He is, thankfully, a much better shot than Mulder.

"Mulder, cut my hands loose," says Scully, and Mulder hastens to obey. Scully runs to Skinner and rolls him on his back. She gently probes his thigh, locating the wound, reaching around the back. "It went through clean," she says. "I need something to bind it to stop the bleeding."

"Scully, there's no time," says Skinner. "You and Mulder need to leave now!"

"You have to come with us," says Mulder. Skinner shakes his head.

"I'll only slow you down," Skinner says. "You'll never get out of here in time if you're carrying me."

"But Sir...." Mulder swallows. "If you stay here, they'll know you helped us escape. Your life will be forfeit."

"I'll tell them I chased you up here and you shot me," says Skinner dismissively. "It's not like any of these four are going to contradict me."

"They may not believe you," argues Mulder.

"Mulder, GO," Skinner all but shouts. He is already removing his own belt, preparing to apply a tourniquet to his leg. "I'll be fine, I promise!" Mulder stands, Scully rising with him. He wants to say something, to thank Skinner for all he has done, for his support and protection, and he opens his mouth to do so... but now Skinner really is shouting. "Oh, for God's sweet sake! All the thanks in the world are going to be meaningless to me if you two don't get your asses out of here right now!" At last, Mulder nods.

"Take care of yourself, Walther," is all he can manage, and then he and Scully are gone into the night.

----------

They skirt the edge of the town, staying well out of sight... but it's not far enough away that they cannot hear the screaming. Near the square, Mulder can see a great gout of flames that he knows must be the church. Sporadic machine gun fire echoes from the same direction. In the distance, on the horizon, another enormous fire is pluming up towards the night sky. Scully clutches at his arm with a distraught moan.

"That's my mother's farm," she whispers, her voice broken. "Spender told me they were taking the men there, to the barns." They don't have much time, they need to keep moving, but Mulder cannot stop himself from putting his arms around Scully and holding her close. "The women and children were in the church, weren't they?" she asks, her voice muffled against his chest. He nods, and she squeezes him. There's no time to linger, though; at any moment, Oberst Spender could discover their escape. Mulder unshoulders the bag he took from Scully's wardrobe, and from within it, retrieves a set of men's clothing. He strips off his uniform pants and jacket and replaces them with the civilian clothing. Scully removes her blouse, stained with Jeffrey Spender's blood, and slips into a fresh one. They hide their discarded clothing under a pile of leaves and continue on their way.

The journey to the meeting place does not take long, in reality, but to Mulder, it seems to take ages. They say nothing, partly out of fear of getting caught by a patrol- though really, they don't expect anyone to be out here- and partly out of horror at the unspeakable smells and sounds that rend the night air. They meet no one until they arrive at their rendez-vous point, a mile north of town, but still well in sight of the fires. At the top of a small rise, under cover of a copse of trees, Frohike, Langly, and Byers are waiting for them. Frohike steps forward and embraces first Mulder, then Scully... but none of them speak. The grief and shock are too great. Together they turn and watch as the flames on the horizon expand, spreading away from the church, into the rest of the town.

Oradour-Sur-Glane is gone.

EPILOGUE

GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D. C. AUGUST 1946

The Cafe Pequod is almost always busy around lunchtime, and today is no exception. Mulder has had his hands full chopping meat and tomatoes for sandwiches, preparing coffee, and washing dishes. If things keep up the way they have been, there really will be no way they can get out of finally hiring a dishwasher. Luckily, with business being what it is, they can afford it.

The locals love the cafe's authentic French charm, the rich coffee, the hearty sandwiches and, of course, the delicious pies. All of these things explain business being brisk during rest of the day, but Mulder strongly suspects that the markedly larger noontime crowd has more to do with the number of businessmen who drop by on their lunch break, hoping to get a glimpse of the lovely young proprietress.

Scully has done the best she can to make the little restaurant look as much like home as possible. Prior to opening their doors, she has spent months sifting through thrift shops and estate sales, snapping up any and all furniture, crockery, cutlery, and decor that reminded her of the place she was forced to abandon. Before finally settling down here, they had traveled so far and stayed in so many strange places that anything that smacked of home, of stability, was a balm to their souls... even something as small as a set of plates that reminded them of the first slice of pie Scully ever served him.

After weeks making their slow, laborious way to the coast and bartering passage across the Channel, Mulder and Scully were faced with the daunting task of locating Maggie Scully. Mother and daughter had arranged ahead of time, should they ever have to flee, to meet in London, but still, it took nearly a month of combing shelters and information centers before they were finally reunited. By then, Scully's pregnancy was perfectly obvious... but in her overwhelming joy at being together again with her daughter, Maggie was all too happy to simply smile and nod at Scully's story of their being married before the baby had been conceived.

Mulder is relatively certain Maggie didn't believe a word of it.

After the war had ended and travel by sea was once again safe, they had booked passage to America, staying first with Scully's brother Bill in Boston, then with her brother Charlie in Norfolk, before finally finding, falling in love with, and purchasing the shuttered restaurant in Georgetown. Unlike its French counterpart, this cafe has two floors above it with an apartment on each. Maggie Scully lives on the top floor... but most days, she's kept plenty busy in the second floor apartment.

As Mulder clears stack of dirty dishes from an abandoned table and turns to carry them into the kitchen, he catches sight of a pair of bright blue eyes peering at him from behind the counter. He smiles in spite of himself, darts around the counter, and scoops the giggling little girl up into his arms.

"Did you sneak away from your grand-mere again?" he asks her, and she gives him a nod and a mischievous smile in response. Shaking his head, he carries the wiggling child into the kitchen, where Scully is assembling a tray of pastries to bring out to a customer. "We've had another jailbreak," he says, and she looks up, sighing.

"Again, Claire?" Claire responds with another giggle. "Maman is going to have to put a leash on her before long," Scully says, dusting her hands off on her apron. "You won't have as much time to be chasing her back upstairs come September." In just a few weeks, Scully will only be working in the cafe in the evenings and on Saturdays. During the day, her medical school classes will be keeping her plenty busy... and soon enough, she won't be working in the cafe at all. Mulder and Maggie have promised to keep the cafe running once Scully is practicing medicine, which was the only way she would agree to resume her studies.

In the evening, when the last cup of coffee has been drunk and the last customer has left, Scully goes out front to roll up the awning and lock the door. Mulder takes one last stack of dirty dishes back to the sink, then returns to close the front drapes. As he approaches the window, he sees Scully outside, leaning against the doorframe, looking up at the cafe's sign, visible to them now with the awning rolled back. Mulder steps out the door and stands with her, his arm around her shoulders. She leans into him and they both gaze up at the white wooden whale swinging above the front windows.

They had left a forwarding address every time they had moved on, but they had never really expected to receive any letters. Nearly everyone Scully had known perished that night in Oradour-Sur-Glane, and Mulder knows better than to expect to hear from his parents ever again. So when the large, flat package had shown up six months ago, it had taken them all by surprise. The postmark originated in France, and showed that it had arrived in London and had been forwarded to each of their subsequent addresses before arriving on their doorstep in Georgetown.

The contents of the package had been nothing short of a miracle, in more ways than one.

The sign was no longer white, the paint having bubbled and flaked off in the heat, but the wood itself was relatively undamaged. Mulder and Scully had sanded off the few burned patches, painted it white, and carefully stenciled on the sign's original inscription. There had been no letter accompanying the sign, but they both know exactly who sent it.

Somehow, whether by convincing Spender that he had been shot by Mulder, or by escaping all together, Walther Skinner survived.

A wooden sign and a surviving spy are, in the face of so much loss, relatively small victories, but with the nightmares of June the tenth still haunting them, Mulder and Scully are grateful for any victories at all.

"Ready to go in?" Mulder asks Scully now, pulling her out of her reverie. She smiles up at him and nods, then stretches up to kiss him. Together, they switch off the front light, shut the curtained door, and lock it behind them.

Cafe Pequod is closed for the night.

[penurnbra]

here’s the fuckton of articles from the Journal of the Fantastic in the Arts that I obsessively gathered + organized during last night’s sleep deprived, caffeine driven, depressive episode

Vol. 1

No. 1 (1988)

ARTICLES

JOURNAL OF THE FANTASTIC IN THE ARTS (JFA): Purpose

EDITORIAL COMMENTS

Was Zilla Right?: Fantasy and Truth

Children of a Darker God: A Taxonomy of Deep Horror Fiction and Film and Their Mass Popularity

The Artifact as Icon in Science Fiction

The Birth of a Fantastic World: C. S. Lewis's "The Magician's Nephew"

Fantasy's Reconstruction of Narrative Conventions

Postmodern Narrative and the Limits of Fantasy

No. 2 (1988)

ARTICLES

CRITICS IN THE GULAG

Decadence and Anguish: Edgar Allan Poe's Influence On Réjean Ducharme

Mervyn Peake: The Relativity of Perception

Nature's Nightmare: The Inner World Of Hauptmann's "Flagman Thiel"

"Tel art plus divin que humain": The Reality of Fantasy In Ronsard's Poetic Practice

Transvestites and Transformations, Or Take It Off and Get Real: Queneau's "Zazie dans le métro"

Structural and Psychological Aspects Of the Spider Woman Symbol In "Kiss of the Spider Woman"

REVIEWS

Snobbery, Seasoned with Bile, Clute Is (Strokes: Essays and Reviews 1966-1986, John Clute, Thomas M. Disch)

No. 3 (1988)

ARTICLES

Introduction: Beagle and Ellison: A Special Issue

The Wind Took Your Answer Away

The Fractured Whole: The Fictional World Of Harlan Ellison

The Ellison Personae: Author, Storyteller, Narrator

Symbolic Settings In Science Fiction: H. G. Wells, Ray Bradbury, and Harlan Ellison

Humankind and Reality: Illusion and Self-Deception In Peter S. Beagle's Fiction

Two Forms of Metafantasy

The Alchemy of Love In "A Fine and Private Place"

Fantastic Tropes In "The Folk of the Air"

No. 4 (1988)

ARTICLES

Overture: What Was Postmodernism?

The Decentered Absolute: Significance in the Postmodern Fantastic

Putting a Red Nose on the Text: Play and Performance In the Postmodern Fantastic

Theater for the Fin-du-Millennium: Playing (at) the End

De/Reconstructing the "I": PostFANTASTICmodernist Poetry

There's No Place Like Home: Simulating Postmodern America in "The Wizard of Oz" and "Blue Velvet"

Fictional Cultures in Postmodern Art

Deconstructing Deconstruction: Chimeras of Form and Content in Samuel R. Delany

Millhauser, Süskind, and the Postmodern Promise

Coda: Criticism in the Age of Borges

Vol. 2

No. 1 (1989)

ARTICLES

Phoenix Rising: Like Dracula from the Grave

The Vampire

Rising Like Old Corpses: Stephen King and the Horrors of Time-Past

Tanith Lee's Werewolves Within: Reversals of Gothic Traditions

Loving Death: The Meaning of Male Sexual Impotence in Vampire Literature

From Pathos To Tragedy: The Two Versions of The Fly

An Appreciation: Virgil Finlay

Courteous, Humble and Helpful: Sam as Squire in Lord of the Rings

Genetic Experimentation: Mad Scientists and The Beast

Native Sons: Regionalism in the Work of Nathaniel Hawthorne and Stephen King

The Femivore: An Unnamed Archetype

No. 2 (1989)

ARTICLES

From Trickery to Discovery: Old, New, and Nonexistent Trajectories of Science Fiction Film

The JFA Forum on SF Film

The Cybernetic (City) State: Terminal Space Becomes Phenomenal

Murray Tinkleman: An Appreciation

Video, Science Fiction, and the Cinema of Surveillance

Science-Fiction and Fantasy Film Criticism: The Case of Lucas and Spielberg

But Not the Blackness of Space: "The Brother From Another Planet" as Icon from the Underground

REVIEWS

'Weirdies' Point the Way (Teenagers and Teenpics: The Juvenilization of American Movies in the 1950s, Thomas Doherty)

Nirvana for Sleaze-lovers (Revenge of the Creature Features Movie Guide, revised by John Stanley)

Vol. 4

No. 2 (1992)

ARTICLES

"Poof! Now You See Me, Now You Don't"

Interpolation and Invisibility: From Herodotus to Cervantes's Don Quixote

Rings, Belts, and a Bird's Nest: Invisibility in German Literature

"Spells of Darkness": Invisibility in The White Witch of Rosehall

"Seeing" Invisibility: Or Invisibility as Metaphor in Thomas Berger's Being Invisible

Vol. 5

No. 1 (1992)

ARTICLES

The Craving for Meaning: Explicit Allegory in the Non-Implicit Age

Recent Trends in the Contemporary American Fairy Tale

The New Age Mage: Merlin as Contemporary Occult Icon

Dualism and Mirror Imagery in Anglo-Saxon Riddles

Vol. 6

No. 1 (1993; Special Issue: Richard Adams' "Watership Down")

ARTICLES

Introduction

The Significance of Myth in "Watership Down"

Shaping Self Through Spontaneous Oral Narration in Richard Adams' "Watership Down"

Shamanistic Mythmaking: From Civilization to Wilderness in "Watership Down"

Saturnalia and Sanctuary: The Role of the Tale in "Watership Down"

"Watership Down": A Genre Study

The Efrafan Hunt for Immortality in Richard Adam's "Watership Down"

No. 4 (1995)

ARTICLES

The Artisan in Modern Fantasy

The Symbolic versus the Fantastic: The Example of an Hungarian Painter

1920's Yellow Peril Science Fiction: Political Appropriations of the Asian Racial "Alien"

Religious Satire in Rushdie's "Satanic Verses"

Magic or Make-believe? Acquiring The COnventions of Witches and Witchcraft

REVIEWS

Encyclopedia Worth Waiting For (The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction, John Clute, Peter Nicholls)

Fresh Approach to Nineteenth Century Science Fiction (Science Fiction Before 1900: Imagination Discovers Technology, Paul K. Alkon)

The Play of the Critic (Staging the Impossible: The Fantastic Mode in Modern Drama, Patrick D. Murphy)

Vol. 10

No. 1 (1998)

ARTICLES

Editor's Introduction

Stasis and Chaos: Some Dynamics of Popular Genres

Lois McMaster Bujold: Feminism and "The Gernsback Continuum" In Recent Woman's SF

"Who Am I, Really?" Myths of Maturation in Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan Series

Asimov's Crusade Against Bigotry: The Persistence of Prejudice as a Fractal Motif in the Robot/Empire/Foundation Metaseries

When Coyote Leaves the Res: Incarnations of the Trickster from Wile E. to Le Guin

Kurt Vonnegut's Fantastic Faces

Celtic Myth and English-Language Fantasy Literature: Possible New Directions

No. 2 (1999; A Century of Draculas)  

ARTICLES

Introduction

A Century of Draculas

High Duty and Savage Delight: The Ambiguous Nature of Violence in "Dracula"

Bram Stoker and the London Stage

"If I had to write with a pen": Readership and Bram Stoker's Diary Narrative

Closure and Power in "Salem's Lot"

The Image of the Vampire in the Struggle for Societal Power: Dan Simmons' "Children of the Night"

Not All Fangs Are Phallic: Female Film Vampires

Madame Dracula: The Life of Emily Gerard

Back to the Basics: Re-Examining Stoker's Sources for "Dracula"

No. 4 (2000)

ARTICLES

Muggling On

Grail, Groundhog, Godgame: Or, Doing Fantasy

Something Hungry This Way Comes: Terrestrial and Ex-Terrestrial Feline Feeding Patterns and Behavior

Technology, Technophobia and Gynophobia in Gonzalo Torrente Ballesteas "Quizá nos lleve el viento al infinito"

Ready or Not, Here We Come: Metaphors of the Martian Megatext from Wells to Robinson

Bringing Chaos to Order. Vonnegut Criticism at Century's End

Resources for the Study of American Fantasy Literature Through 1998

REVIEWS

Strange Constellations: A History of Australian Science Fiction, Russell Blackford, Russell Van Ikin, Sean McMullen

Edgar Allan Poe: Comprehensive Research and Study Guide, Harold Bloom

Warlocks and Warpdrive: Contemporary Fantasy Entertainments with Interactive and Virtual Environments, Kurt Lancaster

Nursery Realms: Children in the Worlds of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror, Gary Westfahl, George Slusser

Science Fiction Writers: Critical Studies of the Major Authors from the Early Nineteenth Century to the Present Day, Richard Bleiler

Vol. 11

No. 4 (2001)

ARTICLES

When the Hungarian Literary Theorist, Györgyi Lukács Met The American Science Fiction Writer, Wayne Mark Chapman

Cultural Negotiation in Science Fiction Literature and Film

Episteme-ology of Science Fiction

Orchids in A Cage: Political Myths and Social Reality in East German Science Fiction (1949-1989)

Virtual Poltergeists and Memory: The Question of Ahistorcism in William Gibson's Neuromoncer(1984)

The Search for a Quantum Ethics: Michael Frayn's "Copenhagen" and Other Recent British Science Plays

Leakings: Reappropriating Science Fiction--The Case of Kurt Vonnegut

REVIEWS

Darwin's Plots: Evolutionary Narrative in Darwin, George Eliot, and Nineteenth-Century Fiction, Gillian Beer

Space and Beyond: The Frontier Theme in Science Fiction, Gary Westfahl

The Rise of Supernatural Fiction: 1762-1800. Cambridge Studies in Romanticism, E.J. Clery

Thrillers. "Genres in American Cinema" series, Martin Rubin

Othermindedness: The Emergence of Network Culture, Michael Joyce

A Century of Welsh Myth in Children's Literature, Donna White

That Other World. (The Princess Grace Irish Library), Bruce Stewart

Edgar Rice Burroughs: The Exhaustive Scholar's and Collector's Descriptive Bibliography of American Periodical, Hardcover, Paperback, and Reprint Editions, Robert B. Zeuschner, Philip José Farmer; The Burroughs Cyclopaedia: Characters, Places, Fauna, Flora, Technologies, Languages, Ideas and Terminologies Found in the Works of Edgar Rice Burroughs, Clark A. Brady

Italian Horror Films of the 1960s: A Critical Catalog of 62 Chillers, Lawrence McCallum

Vol. 14

No. 4 (2004)

ARTICLES

On Editing a Journal

"Hiro" of the Platonic: Neal Stephenson's "Snow Crash"

Suicide and the Absurd: The Influence of Jean-Paul Sartre's and Albert Camus's Existentiafism on Stephen R. Donaldson's "The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever"

The Monomyth in Daniel Keyes's "Flowers for Algernon": Keyes, Campbell and Plato

Writing the Possessed Child in British Culture: James Herbert's "Shrine"

Disney World: A Plastic Monument to Death: From Rabelais to Disney

REVIEWS

Uncharted Territory: An Unofficial and Unauthorized Guide to Farscape, Scott Andrews

The Artist as Monster: The Cinema of David Cronenberg, William Beard; The Modern Fantastic: The Films of David Cronenberg, Michael Grant

Tomorrow Now: Envisioning the Next Fifty Years, Bruce Sterling

Monsters, Mushroom Clouds, and the Cold War: American Science Fiction and the Roots of Postmodernism, 1946-1964, M. Keith Booker

Harlan Ellison: The Edge of Forever, Gary K. Wolfe, Ellen Weil

One Ring to Bind them All: Tolkien's Mythology, Anne C. Petty; Tolkien's Ordinary Virtues: Exploring the Spitirtual Virtues of Lord of the Rings, Mark Eddy Smith; Frodo's Quest: Living the Myth in The Lord of the Rings, Robert Ellwood

Chaos Theory, Asimov's Foundations and Robots, and Herbert's Dune: The Fractal Aesthetic of Epic Science Fiction, Donald E. Palumbo

The Classic Era of American Pulp Magazines, Peter Haining

Vol. 25

No. 1 (2014)

ARTICLES

Introduction: Reinhabiting Fantasy

Reading Tolkien in Chinese

Convention Un-done: Un Lun Dun's Unchosen Heroine and Narrative (Re)Vision

"But what does it all mean?" Religious Reality as a Political Call in the Chronicles of Narnia

Telepathy and Cosmic Horror in Olaf Stapledon's "The Flames"

"I was a Ghetto Nerd Supreme": Science Fiction, Fantasy and Latina/o Futurity in Junot Díaz's "The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao"

REVIEWS

St. Lovecraft (The Classic Horror Stories, Roger Luckhurst, H. P. Lovecraft; Weird Realism: Lovecraft and Philosophy, Graham Harman; Slime Dynamics: Generation, Mutation, and the Creep of Life, Ben Woodard; New Critical Essays on H.P. Lovecraft, David Simmons; H. P. Lovecraft's Dark Arcadia: The Satire, Symbology and Contradiction, Gavin Callaghan)

The Hobbit and Philosophy: For When You've Lost Your Dwarves, Your Wizard, And Your Way, Gregory Basham, Eric Bronson

Collision of Realities. Establishing Research on the Fantastic in Europe, Lars Schmeink, Astrid Böger (X)(X)

Hermione Granger Saves the World: Essays on the Feminist Heroine of Hogwarts, Christopher E. Bell

Horror Noir: Where Cinema's Dark Sisters Meet, Paul Meehan

The Mummy's Curse: The True History of a Dark Fantasy, Roger Luckhurst

Scottish Women's Gothic and Fantastic Writing: Fiction since 1978, Monica Germaná

The Irresistible Fairy Tale: The Cultural and Social History of a Genre, Jack Zipes

Mutants and Mystics: Science Fiction, Superhero Comics, and the Paranormal, Jeffrey J. Kripal

Philip K. Dick and Philosophy: Do Androids Have Kindred Spirits?, D. E. Wittkower

Animal Alterity: Science Fiction and the Question of the Animal, Sherryl Vint

Anime's Media Mix: Franchising Toys and Characters in Japan, Marc Steinberg

The Ghost Story 1840-1920: A Cultural History, Andrew Smith

Fairy Tales Framed: Early Forewords, Afterwords, and Critical Words, Ruth B. Bottigheimer

The Time Ship: A Chrononautical Journey, Enrique Gaspar, Yolanda Molina-Gavilán, Andrea L. Bell

Future Wars: The Anticipations and the Fears, David Seed

The Horror Sensorium: Media and the Senses, Angela Ndalianis

Inception and Philosophy: Ideas to Die For, Thorsten Botz-Bornstein

Antarctica in Fiction: Imaginative Narratives of the Far South, Elizabeth Leane

Green Suns and Faërie: Essays on Tolkien, Verlyn Flieger

No. 2 & 3 (2014)

ARTICLES

Elegy

Introduction: AfterLives: What's Next for Humanity

"Only We Have Perished": Karel Čapek's R.U.R. and the Catastrophe of Humankind

"From Zoo. to Bot.": (De)Composition in Jim Crace's "Being Dead"

Terminal Films

Living as a Zombie in Media is the Only Way to Survive

Zombie Republic: Property and the Propertyless Multitude in Romero's Dead Films and Kirkman's "The Walking Dead"

Thinking Blind

The Loveliness of Decay: Rotting Flesh, Literary Matter, and Dead Media

Post-Vampire: The Politics of Drinking Humans and Animals in "Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Twilight", and "True Blood"

REVIEWS

Cyberpunk Women, Feminism and Science Fiction: A Critical Study, Carlen Lavigne

Under the Shadow: The Atomic Bomb and Cold War Narratives, David Seed

Undead in the West: Vampires, Zombies, Mummies, and Ghosts on the Cinematic Frontier, Cynthia J. Miller, A. Bowdoin Van Riper

Spanish Horror Film, Antonio Lázaro-Reboll

John Brunner, Jad Smith

The Irish Fairy Tale: A Narrative Tradition from the Middle Ages to Yeats and Stephens, Vito Carrassi

Fanged Fan Fiction: Variations on Twilight, True Blood, and The Vampire Diaries, Maria Lindgren Leavenworth, Malin Isaksson

Welsh Gothic, Jane Aaron

Puppet. An Essay on Uncanny Life, Kenneth Gross

The Ashgate Research Companion to Nineteenth-Century Spiritualism and the Occult, Tatiana Kontou, Sarah Willburn

Mechademia 7: Lines of Sight, Frenchy Lunning

Approaching The Hunger Games Trilogy: A Literary and Cultural Analysis, Tom Henthorne; Of Bread, Blood, and The Hunger Games: Critical Essays on the Suzanne Collins Trilogy, Mary F. Pharr, Leisa A. Clark

Dawn of an Evil Millennium: Horror/Kultur im neuen Jahrtausend, Jörg van Bebber

Solar Flares: Science Fiction in the 1970s, Andrew M. Butler

Becoming Ray Bradbury, Jonathan R. Eller

Beyond His Dark Materials: Innocence and Experience in the Fiction of Philip Pullman, Susan Redington Bobby

Postapocalyptic Fiction and the Social Contract: "We'll Not Go Home Again.", Claire P. Curtis

English Catholics and the Supernatural, 1553-1829, Francis Young

The Late Victorian Gothic: Mental Science, the Uncanny, and Scenes of Writing, Hilary Grimes

Bewitched Again: Supernaturally Powerful Women on Television, 1996-2011, Julie D. O'Reilly

A Hobbit Journey: Discovering the Enchantment of J.R.R. Tolkien's Middle-Earth, Matthew Dickerson

Fear and Learning: Essays on the Pedagogy of Horror, Aalya Ahmad, Sean Moreland

Maps of Utopia: H. G. Wells, Modernity, and the End of Culture, Simon J. James

Dancing the Tao: Le Guin and Moral Development, Sandra J. Lindow

The Subversive Harry Potter: Adolescent Rebellion and Containment in the J.K. Rowling Novels, Vandana Saxena

As If: Modern Enchantment and the Literary Prehistory of Virtual Reality, Michael Saler

Enchanting: Beyond Disenchantment, Stephen David Ross

Ces français qui ont écrit demain. Utopie, anticipation et science-fiction au XXe siècle [Those Frenchmen Who Wrote Tomorrow: Utopia, Anticipation and Science Fiction in the Twentieth Century], Natacha Vas-Deyres

The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, James Rose; The Descent, James Marriott

Teaching with Harry Potter, Valerie Estelle Frankel

William Gibson, Gary Westfahl

The Wizard of Oz as American Myth: A Critical Study of Six Versions of the Story, 1900-2007, Alissa Burger

Saw, Benjamin Poole

Scotland as Science Fiction, Caroline McCracken-Flesher

Gothic Music: The Sounds of the Uncanny, Isabella van Elferen

New Directions in the European Fantastic, Sabine Coelsch-Foisner, Sarah Herbe

Fantasy, Art and Life: Essays on George MacDonald, Robert Louis Stevenson and Other Fantasy Writers, William Gray

Extraterrestrials and the American Zeitgeist: Alien Contact Tales Since the 1950s, Aaron John Gulyas

To See the Saw Movies: Essays on Torture Porn and Post-9/11 Horror,  James Aston, John Walliss

Science Fiction, Mark Bould

[kaetrinsmusings]

October Round Up

October Round Up: Mini audiobook review of The Stranger Beside Me by Ann Rule & links.

Monthly Mini Review The Stranger Beside Me by Ann Rule, narrated by Lorelei King – B I picked this audiobook up via my library. Lorelei King is a favourite narrator (she does the Mercy Thompson series) but I admit it threw me a little when Ted Bundy sounded like Adam Hauptmann! I admit I knew little about Ted Bundy before this. (Hello. Australian.) I knew of him of course and that he was a…

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 10.21

Holidays

Abby Cadabby Day

American Frog Day

Antillean Day (Bonaire, Curacao, Saba, St. Eustatius)

Armed Forces Day (Honduras)

Babbling Day

Back to the Future Day

Barrel Day (French Republic)

Can-Can Day

Celebration of the Mind Day

Check Your Meds Day

Count Your Buttons Day

Egyptian Naval Day (Egypt)

Everyone Writes Day (UK)

Funafuti (Tuvalu)

Global Clinical Engineering Day

Global Encryption Day

Global Iodine Deficiency Day

GTA Day

Humble Yourself By Having Your Picture Made Wearing A Bicycle Helmet Day

International Day of Action on Big Biomass

Jailhouse Rock Day

Light Bulb Day

Loud Shirt Day

National Alexander Day

National Archives Day

National Breast Reconstruction Awareness Day

National Check Your Meds Day

National Check Your Transmission Day

National Jameson Day

National Nurses’ Day (Thailand)

National Pets for Veterans Day

National Raymond Day

National Shut-In Day

National Throw Short People Day

National Witch Hazel Day

Ndadaye Day (Burundi)

Overseas Chinese Day (Taiwan)

Police Commemoration Day (India)

Reptile Awareness Day

Take Time and Watch the Sunset Day

Trafalgar Day (UK)

USS Constitution Day

Uzbek Language Day

Wonder Woman Day

World Earthworm Day

World Energy Saving Day

World Esports Day

World Feminist Radio Day

World Gaming Day

World War II Victims Remembrance Day (Serbia)

Food & Drink Celebrations

Apple Day (UK)

Caramel Apple Day

Garbanzo Bean Day

International Day of the Nacho (Mexico, US)

National Honey Day (UK)

National Mezcal Day

National Pumpkin Cheesecake Day

Pop Rocks Day

World Apple Day

3rd Saturday in October

Bridge Day (West Virginia) [3rd Saturday]

Frabjous Day [3rd Saturday]

I Love Yarn Day [3rd Saturday]

International Archeology Day [3rd Saturday]

International Independent Video Store Day [3rd Saturday]

National Paint Your Own Pottery Day [3rd Saturday]

International Repair Day [3rd Saturday]

International Sloth Day [3rd Saturday]

National Bridge Day [3rd Saturday]

National Fetch Day [3rd Saturday]

National Harp Day (Ireland) [3rd Saturday]

National Mover Over Day [3rd Saturday]

National Slow Down Day [3rd Saturday]

National Surfing Day (Costa Rica) [3rd Saturday]

National Whole Hog Barbecue Day [3rd Saturday]

O. Henry Pun-Off World Championships [3rd Saturday]

Raw Milk Cheese Appreciation Day [3rd Saturday]

Sharing Economy Saturday [3rd Saturday]

Sweetest Day [3rd Saturday]

World Singing Day [3rd Saturday]

Independence Days

Narsiryn (Declared; 2021) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Abby Cadabby (Muppetism)

Asterius of Ostia (Christian; Saint)

Berthold of Parma (Christian; Saint)

The Birdman (Muppetism)

Bruno Hauptmann Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Charles of Austria, Blessed (Roman Catholic Church)

Domenichino (Artology)

Festival of Parlor Shamanism

Fintán of Taghmon (Christian; Saint)

Great Horn Fair (Pagan)

Hilarion (Christian; Saint)

John of Bridlington (Christian; Saint)

Katsushika Hokusai (Artology)

Laura of Saint Catherine of Siena (Christian; Saint)

Leticia (Christian; Saint)

Lord Bacon (Positivist; Saint)

Maha Saptama Great Ceremony; Hinduism) [7th Day of 9th Moon]

Malchus of Syria (Christian; Saint)

Peter Yu Tae-chol (Christian; Saint)

Phulpati [7th Day of Dashain]

Severinus of Bordeaux (Christian; Saint)

Try Thinking Day (Pastafarian)

Tuda of Lindisfarne (Christian; Saint)

Ursula (Christian; Saint)

Viator of Lyons (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Fortunate Day (Pagan) [43 of 53]

Sakimake (先負 Japan) [Bad luck in the morning, good luck in the afternoon.]

Umu Limnu (Evil Day; Babylonian Calendar; 49 of 60)

Premieres

All the Right Stuff (Film; 1983)

The Awful Truth (Film; 1937)

Bad as Me, by Tom Waits (Album; 2011)

The Banshees of Inisherin (Film; 2022)

Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman (WB Animated Film; 2003)

Bat Out of Hell, by Meatloaf (Album; 1977)

Black Adam (Film; 2022)

Bullets Over Broadway (Film; 1994)

Chase Me (WB Cartoon; 2003)

Comes a Time, by Neil Young (Album; 1978)

The Dead Zone (Film; 1983)

Dune Messiah, by Frank Herbert (Novel; 1969) [Dune #2]

Everything to Everyone, by Barenaked Ladies (Album; 2003)

Footlight Parade (Film; 1933)

For Whom the Bell Tolls, by Ernest Hemingway (Novel; 1940)

The Good Egg (WB MM Cartoon; 1939)

It Can't Happen Here, by Sinclair Lewis (Novel; 1935)

Jack Reacher: Never Go Back (Film; 2016)

The Mandarins, by Simone de Beauvoir (Novel; 1954)

Moonlight (Film; 2015)

My Fair Lady (Film; 1964)

Mystic Pizza (Film; 1988)

Orpheus in the Underworld, by Jacques Offenbach (Operetta; 1858)

The Peripheral (TV Series; 2022)

Plague Dogs (Animated Film; 1982)

Polka Party, by Weird Al Yankovic (Album; 1986)

Rumble Fish (Film; 1983)

The Sheik (Silent Film; 1921)

Sex, by Madonna and photographer Steven Meisel (Book; 1992)

Speed Racer (Film; 2008)

Stooge for a Mouse (WB MM Cartoon; 1950)

Tapeheads (Film; 1988)

What’s My Lion (WB LT Cartoon; 1961)

You Don’t Know What You’re Doin’ (WB MM Cartoon; 1931)

You Want It Darker, by Leonard Cohen (Album; 2016)

Today’s Name Days

Karl, Ulla, Ursula (Austria)

Hilarion, Kajo, Uršula, Zvjezdan (Croatia)

Brigita (Czech Republic)

Ursula (Denmark)

Ulla, Ulrika, Ursula (Estonia)

Ursula (Finland)

Céline, Ursule (France)

Celina, Holger, Ulla, Ursula (Germany)

Christodoulos, Efkratis, Orsalia, Socrates, Sokrates, Sokratis, Ursula (Greece)

Orsolya (Hungary)

Orsola (Italy)

Garlibs, Ginta, Gints, Severins, Urzula (Latvia)

Hiliaras, Raitvilas, Uršulė (Lithuania)

Bergljot, Birger (Norway)

Bernard, Celina, Dobromił, Elżbieta, Hilary, Klemencja, Pelagia, Pelagiusz, Urszula, Wszebora (Poland)

Taisia (Russia)

Uršuľa (Slovakia)

Úrsula (Spain)

Ursula, Yrsa (Sweden)

Ada, Ilarion, Larry (Ukraine)

Celina, Celine, Nobel, Selena, Selina, Ursula, Wanda, Wendall, Wendell, Wendy (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 294 of 2024; 71 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 6 of week 42 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Gort (Ivy) [Day 19 of 28]

Chinese: Month 9 (Ten-Xu), Day 7 (Ren-Zi)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 6 Heshvan 5784

Islamic: 6 Rabi II 1445

J Cal: 24 Shù; Threesday [24 of 30]

Julian: 8 October 2023

Moon: 50%: 1st Quarter

Positivist: 14 Descartes (11th Month) [Lord Bacon]

Runic Half Month: Wyn (Joy) [Day 10 of 15]

Season: Autumn (Day 28 of 89)

Zodiac: Libra (Day 28 of 30)

[brookston]

Holidays 10.21

Holidays

Antillean Day (Bonaire, Curacao, Saba, St. Eustatius)

Armed Forces Day (Honduras)

Babbling Day

Back to the Future Day

Celebration of the Mind Day

Check Your Meds Day

Count Your Buttons Day

Egyptian Naval Day (Egypt)

Funafuti (Tuvalu)

Global Iodine Deficiency Day

Hawke’s Bay Day (New Zealand)

Humble Yourself By Having Your Picture Made Wearing A Bicycle Helmet Day

Indian Police Commemoration Day (India)

Jailhouse Rock Day

Light Bulb Day

National Breast Reconstruction Awareness Day

National Check Your Transmission Day

National Nurses’ Day (Thailand)

National Pets for Veterans Day

National Shut-In Day

National Witch Hazel Day

Ndadaye Day (Burundi)

Overseas Chinese Day

Police Commemoration Day (India)

Reptile Awareness Day

Take Time and Watch the Sunset Day

Trafalgar Day (UK)

World War II Victims Remembrance Day (Serbia)

Food & Drink Celebrations

Apple Day (UK)

Caramel Apple Day

Garbanzo Bean Day

International Day of the Nacho (Mexico, US)

National Pumpkin Cheesecake Day

Pop Rocks Day

World Apple Day

3rd Friday in October

Developmental Language Disorder Awareness Day [3rd Friday]

Global Champagne Day [3rd Friday]

National Mammography Day [3rd Friday]

National Pharmacy Buyer Day [Friday of 3rd Full Week]

Poperinge Beer & Hop Festival begins (Belgium) [Every 3 years, 3rd Friday, but postponed from 2021]

World Student Day [3rd Friday]

Feast Days

Abby Cadabby (Muppetism)

Asterius of Ostia (Christian; Saint)

Berthold of Parma (Christian; Saint)

The Birdman (Muppetism)

Bruno Hauptmann Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Charles of Austria, Blessed (Roman Catholic Church)

Festival of Parlor Shamanism

Fintán of Taghmon (Christian; Saint)

Hilarion (Christian; Saint)

John of Bridlington (Christian; Saint)

Laura of Saint Catherine of Siena (Christian; Saint)

Leticia (Christian; Saint)

Lord Bacon (Positivist; Saint)

Malchus of Syria (Christian; Saint)

Peter Yu Tae-chol (Christian; Saint)

Phulpati [7th Day of Dashain]

Severinus of Bordeaux (Christian; Saint)

Try Thinking Day (Pastafarian)

Tuda of Lindisfarne (Christian; Saint)

Ursula (Christian; Saint)

Viator of Lyons (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Fortunate Day (Pagan) [43 of 53]

Umu Limnu (Evil Day; Babylonian Calendar; 49 of 60)

Premieres

Bad as Me, by Tom Waits (Album; 2011)

Bat Out of Hell, by Meatloaf (Album; 1977)

Black Adam (Film; 2022)

Comes a Time, by Neil Young (Album; 1978)

The Dead Zone (Film; 1983)

For Whom the Bell Tolls, by Ernest Hemingway (Novel; 1940)

My Fair Lady (Film; 1964)

Mystic Pizza (Film; 1988)

Moonlight (Film; 2015)

Orpheus in the Underworld, by Jacques Offenbach (Operetta; 1858)

Polka Party, by Weird Al Yankovic (Album; 1986)

Rumble Fish (Film; 1983)

The Sheik (Silent Film; 1921)

Sex, by Madonna and photographer Steven Meisel (Book; 1992)

Speed Racer (Film; 2008)

You Want It Darker, by Leonard Cohen (Album; 2016)

Today’s Name Days

Ursula (Austria)

Hilarion, Kajo, Uršula, Zvjezdan (Croatia)

Brigita (Czech Republic)

Ursula (Denmark)

Ulla, Ulrika, Ursula (Estonia)

Ursula (Finland)

Céline, Ursule (France)

Celina, Holger, Ulla, Ursula (Germany)

Christodoulos, Efkratis, Orsalia, Socrates, Sokrates, Sokratis, Ursula (Greece)

Orsolya (Hungary)

Orsola (Italy)

Garlibs, Ginta, Gints, Severins, Urzula (Latvia)

Hiliaras, Raitvilas, Uršulė (Lithuania)

Bergljot, Birger (Norway)

Bernard, Celina, Dobromił, Elżbieta, Hilary, Klemencja, Pelagia, Pelagiusz, Urszula, Wszebora (Poland)

Taisia (Russia)

Uršuľa (Slovakia)

Úrsula (Spain)

Ursula, Yrsa (Sweden)

Ada, Ilarion, Larry (Ukraine)

Celina, Celine, Nobel, Selena, Selina, Ursula, Wanda, Wendall, Wendell, Wendy (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 294 of 2022; 72 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 5 of week 42 of 2022

Celtic Tree Calendar: Gort (Ivy) [Day 21 of 28]

Chinese: Month 9 (Júyuè), Day 26 (Ding-Wei)

Chinese Year of the: Tiger (until January 22, 2023)

Hebrew: 26 Tishri 5783

Islamic: 25 Rabi I 1444

J Cal: 24 Shù; Twosday [24 of 30]

Julian: 8 October 2022

Moon: 15%: Waning Crescent

Positivist: 14 Descartes (11th Month) [Lord Bacon]

Runic Half Month: Wyn (Joy) [Day 11 of 15]

Season: Autumn (Day 29 of 90)

Zodiac: Libra (Day 27 of 30)

[fystarksands]

browncharl: When you are in rehearsal for the first time in 15 years, since college, with your #bff #broadwaybesties @starkweather @uscsda

(From Charl’s stories, it looks like they’re rehearsing for Hauptmann, A New Musical by Michael Ogborn, directed by Warren Adams.)

[pigeonpocket5-blog]

Damon Runyon, the Wright brothers, Eddie Rickenbacker, illegal flying, and “Silver bells”

[This is mostly an encore post, written two years ago, marking an anniversary for December 18]

Spent a day with my aging father-in-law last week. Conversation is difficult, but memories always flow. We watched the movie version of “Guys and Dolls,” with Sinatra and Brando, and Stubby Kaye’s get-up-and-sing version of “Sit Down! You’re Rockin’ the Boat.”

He was happy to see the thing again, though in the first few minutes he said he didn’t think he’d ever seen the film. My fondness for the piece, and for Damon Runyon’s stories, goes back (too many) decades to a production of the play by the Utah Valley Opera Society. They hired our high school drama director, David Larson, to direct. On a lark I auditioned, telling them I couldn’t really sing or dance, and ended up with a lot of lines in a couple of supporting roles, and singing and dancing both in the chorus.

When my father-in-law joined in the movie chorus of “Fugue for Tinhorns,” I knew we had a good couple of hours. We laughed, watched, reminisced, and sang along.

Damon Runyon could tell stories, true stories about real people. Sometimes the names were changed to protect the innocent, or the guilty; sometimes the real names were more entertaining than the fictional names Runyon invented.

Some time ago I stumbled across the story of Runyon’s son, Damon Runyon, Jr., using an early airplane to spread the playwright’s ashes. It’s a story Runyon would have appreciated. It’s appropriate for the day after the anniversary of the Wrights’ first flight; December 18 is the anniversary of the event.

On December 17, Orville and Wilbur Wright got their heavier-than-air flying contraption to actually fly with motor driving it along.

First flight of the Wright Flyer I, December 17, 1903, Orville piloting, Wilbur running at wingtip. Photo from Wikipedia

On December 18, Damon Runyon, Jr., got Eddie Rickenbacker to fly over Broadway to scatter the ashes of his father, Damon Runyon.

First Lieutenant E. V. [Eddie] Rickenbacker, 94th Aero Squadron, American ace, standing up in his Spad plane. Near Rembercourt, France. Photo from Wikipedia. This photo dates near World War I; Rickenbacker remained a hero for a couple of decades. In 1946, he flew a DC-3 over New York City, and illegally scattered the ashes of raconteur Damon Runyon over his beloved Broadwary.

Not exactly the next day. 43 years and one day apart.  The Wrights first flew in 1903; Runyon died in 1946.

Today in Literature, for December 18:

On this day in 1946 Damon Runyon’s ashes were scattered over Broadway by his son, in a plane flown by Eddie Rickenbacker. Runyon was born in Manhattan, Kansas; he arrived at the bigger apple at the age of thirty, to be a sportswriter and to try out at Mindy’s and the Stork Club and any betting window available his crap-shoot worldview: “All of life is six to five against.” Broadway became his special beat, and in story collections like Guys and Dolls he developed the colorful characters — Harry the Horse, the Lemon Drop Kid, Last Card Louie — and the gangster patois that would swept America throughout the thirties and forties.

A lot of history packed in there.  Runyon’s early reportorial career included a lot of that history — he wrote the lead story for United Press on the inauguration of Franklin Roosevelt, for one example.  Runyon found a uniquely American vein of literary ore on Broadway in New York City, and in the ne’er-do-wells, swells, tarts and reformers who flocked to the City that Never Sleeps to seek fame, or fortune, or swindle that fortune from someone else.

As a reporter and essayist, he smoked a lot.  Throat cancer robbed him, first of his voice, then his life at 56.

Runyon’s ashes were spread illegally over Broadway, from a DC-3 piloted by Rickenbacker. Runyon would have liked that.

You couldn’t make this stuff up.

Factoids of history:

Twenty movies got crafted from Runyon stories, including “The Lemon Drop Kid” — in two versions, 1934 and 1951. Appropriate to the Christmas season, the 1951 version introduced the song, “Silver Bells” composed by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans. (Great explanation of the movie, and song, here.)

Runyon got fame first as a sports writer.  He was inducted into the writer’s wing of the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1967.

According to Wikipedia, Jerry Lewis and others owe a great debt to Damon Runyon:  “The first ever telethon was hosted by Milton Berle in 1949 to raise funds for the Damon Runyon Cancer Research Foundation.”

One might salivate over the varied fare offered in the theaters of Broadway in 1946, Runyon’s final year, “Annie, Get Your Gun” through Shakespeare, and everything in between and on either side

Runyon and H. L. Mencken both covered the trial of Bruno Hauptmann, the accused (then convicted) kidnapper of Charles Lindbergh’s baby son

Yes, of course, “Guys and Dolls.” Frank Loesser created it, but not of whole cloth, but from the stories of Damon Runyon; it is a masterpiece, perhaps in several realms.  In homage to Runyon, Adam Gopnik wrote:

Just as Chandler fans must be grateful for Bogart, Runyon fans have to be perpetually happy that the pure idea of Runyon, almost independent of his actual writings, produced the best of all New York musicals: Frank Loesser’s “Guys and Dolls,” which made its début in 1950 and is just now reopening on Broadway in a lavish and energetic new production. But then “Guys and Dolls” is so good that it can triumph over amateur players and high-school longueurs and could probably be a hit put on by a company of trained dolphins in checked suits with a chorus of girl penguins.

Your author here, Dear Reader, was once one of those trained dolphins. It was magnificent.

“Silver Bells,” from “The Lemon Drop Kid,” with William Frawley, Virginia Maxwell and Bob Hope (1951 version):

More:

Gregg Allman, the National Sing ‘Silver Bells’ With Stephen Colbert (freshwaddabrooks.com)

My Favourite Christmas Story: Richard Smyth on Damon Runyon’s “Dancing Dan’s Christmas” (liarsleague.com)

Roger Angell Heads to Cooperstown (newyorker.com)

Hope For Christmas (theinnerwildkat.wordpress.com)

Actor/writer Danny Strong To Pen Guys And Dolls Remake (contactmusic.com)

A view of New York City in 1946:

Thomas Hart Benton (1889–1975) “The Artist’s Show, Washington Square,” painted in 1946

Times Square, showing part of Broadway, in November 1946, from the magnificent archives of Life Magazine:

Brownout Time Square.November 1946.© Time Inc.Herbert Gehr – See more at: http://kcmeesha.com/2011/11/29/old-photos-times-square-through-the-years/#sthash.ru9W0F9h.dpuf

Yes, this is an encore post. Defeating ignorance takes patience and perseverance.

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This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 18th, 2018 at 5:31 pm and is filed under Airplanes, Aviation, History, Literature, Music. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Source: https://timpanogos.wordpress.com/2018/12/18/damon-runyon-the-wright-brothers-eddie-rickenbacker-illegal-flying-and-silver-bells/