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their-destinys-writer · 4 months

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Akuma Flashpoint - Chapter 4

Rated: M

Chapters: 4/?

Chapter Summary: Marinette and Alya finally get to talk.

Info: Canon compliant up to Season 3, Episode 'Ladybug'. Miracle Queen never happened. Canon divergent from that point forward, but might borrow a few details from later seasons. Very loosely inspired by DC's Flashpoint Paradox (the animated movie). Updates on the last Monday of every month.

Ao3 | Wattpad

A/N: Merry Christmas! Have a new chapter as a gift.

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The Recruit

It had been a long morning and midday, and yet Marinette still felt lost. To figure out the right thing to say for the now dreaded breakfast, she had to ask about her history with Adrien in this timeline. And it sure was… interesting. Starting with the fact that they got together when they were fourteen, instead of sixteen. Apparently, since he never fell in love with Ladybug, it opened the door for him to instantly fall for her civilian identity instead.

That was one what-if scenario she never knew she would get the answer to. Not that she had ever actually wanted to know. But it also meant Lila was Adrien’s second girlfriend, meaning she shouldn’t underestimate the importance Lila had acquired for him in this timeline.

Another awful revelation was that he was the one to break things off. According to Tikki, their communication suffered greatly after Nino passed away, and this timeline’s Marinette didn’t want to fight for the relationship, blaming herself for what happened. After that, she distanced herself from everyone, resulting in Adrien giving up in the relationship.

But every now and then, she would drunk-dial Adrien to tell him how much she cared about him and that she was glad he was alive. Among other things Tikki wouldn’t divulge. As for his relationship with Lila, that was a more recent development. Something that started between four to five months prior. And apparently, Marinette did not take it well at all, ending up at his doorstep, drunk and sobbing.

“That’s so embarrassing,” Marinette whined, dragging her hands down her face. “No wonder he’s pissed. I’m a total disaster.”

“More like cripplingly depressed,” Tikki said with a cringe.

“And borderline alcoholic,” Marinette pointed out, as she checked her phone again. “I have so many calls made to Adrien in this phone. At least three times a week. Why was I drunk three times a week?!”

“Well—”

“You know what? I don’t need to know,” Marinette intervened. “On the bright side, that gives me a few ideas of what I can say to them.”

“Really? Already?”

“It’s obvious I had a drinking problem before I got here, so what do alcoholics do when they’re finally ready to get their life back together?” Tikki shrugged. “They admit they have a problem and, somewhere along the line, they make amends. I can start by jumping to those amends. I just have to convince them that this was something I had already been thinking about for a while.”

“Oh!” Tikki said excitedly. “Simple!”

“Mhm,” Marinette nodded. “So, now that that’s settled, I just have to make sure I don’t mess it up. And in the meantime, I can try to figure out how to fix everything.”

“May I ask, how will you know when something or someone was responsible for changing everything?”

“Unfortunately, I think that’s something I’ll figure out along the way,” Marinette admitted.

“Is that why you still made a plan for tomorrow? Even though you hope to find the akuma before then?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Because I have absolutely no idea who The Genie could be, and I’m not even sure she knows I’m here. There’s a chance this might not have been part of her plan. And if that’s the case, she has no reason to suddenly show up.”

“Wouldn’t we have noticed someone walking around in blue skin, though?”

“That’s the part that I least understand.” Marinette started pacing in the small room. “Surely someone like that would’ve stood out by now. And I also don’t think she would’ve gone through all the trouble of time travel if this timeline didn’t end up benefiting her in some way. She did say something about getting her wish. Maybe Adrien not being Chat Noir triggered a better life for her.”

“That implies that she’s been here the whole time since he lost his miraculous.”

“She could have.” Marinette tapped her lip. “She was able to become somewhat invisible during our fight. Maybe she can change her appearance and make herself look normal.”

“But that would mean she could be anybody!” Tikki gasped.

“It would explain how no one has ever seen her. Or even suspected that she’s akumatized.”

“Did you ever figure out her akumatized object?”

Marinette stopped on her tracks, thinking back to that last fight. She wracked her brain, searching for a clue, but she couldn’t remember. Genie didn’t ever seem to use anything to make her wishes true, or even her movements possible. She just willed everything. Like a cartoon genie.

“I didn’t,” she sighed. “All I remember is her tacky and culturally insensitive costume, and a bright light before I woke up here. Nothing really stood out from her. It happens sometimes with willing akumas. They’re always harder to beat. But this one really takes the cake in difficulty.”

“Is that why you’re looking for a pattern?” Tikki asked.

“Exactly. Well, not necessarily a pattern, but any clue—”

Marinette’s phone vibrated. A quick look into it revealed an unknown name.

“Who’s Mrs. Boche?”

“Oh no, your work,” Tikki slowly placed her paws on her cheeks.

“Ah. I’m guessing she’s my boss?” Marinette asked, to which Tikki nodded. “That’s fine, I’ll just tell her I’m not feeling well.”

“She might chew you out for that,” the kwami warned.

Marinette let out a long sigh. It sounded like she had already used that excuse too many times. Nevertheless, if she got fired, so be it. She was hoping to not spend enough time in this reality that finances would become a problem.

“Hello?” she responded to the call.

“What happened to you today?” a woman with a demanding—and slightly intimidating—voice said from the speaker.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Boche, I’m not feeling well today,” Marinette excused herself.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I cannot keep accepting your excuses anymore,” Mrs. Boche said. “It’s the fifth time this month already. If you’re not willing to do something about it, I’m afraid I can’t keep you in our team. And you know that would mean termination. You understand that?”

Marinette gulped. She may have never worked for this person, but that tone made her feel ashamed for something she didn’t even do.

“I understand,” she responded in a small voice. “I promise not to let it happen again.”

“I’m tired of your excuses,” Mrs. Boche huffed. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t send you a letter of termination right this second.”

Marinette opened her mouth to give another plausible excuse, but immediately closed it. Considering how she had managed to balance work and being a superhero in her reality, she had a feeling her absences had nothing to do with that. This universe’s Marinette was clearly going through a lot, meaning what was really wrong was a health issue, and not a superhero one.

“I have no good reason to give, Mrs. Boche,” she responded as professionally as she could with missing context. “I clearly haven’t been well for some time, and I’ve made a lot of mistakes. The best I can do is say that I will be seeking the help I need, and that if I were to continue under your employment, I would do my best to not slip up again. However, if you understand I have exhausted my chances, I will respectfully accept your decision and wish the company the best.”

There was silence from the other side of the line. Marinette exchanged a look with Tikki, wondering if she said something she shouldn’t have. Or maybe she had already given a similar excuse in the past. But Tikki’s expression was hard to read.

“You better walk through that door tomorrow,” Mrs. Boche finally said. “I hope you feel better.”

The call ended. Marinette let out a breath, glad that if it took longer than expected, she would at least not die of starvation. However, it had the downside of cutting into the time she would need to find The Genie.

“Is she a bad boss?” she asked Tikki.

“I don’t think she is,” Tikki responded. “I think it’s more that you’re a bad employee.”

“Sounds about right,” Marinette muttered. “Ugh, this is starting to become more complicated than I expected. Now I need to catch up on anything that has to do with work. Though, it can’t be that different from the job in my reality, right?”

“You didn’t know who Mrs. Boche is,” Tikki pointed out.

Marinette let out a drawn-out groan, as she dragged her hands down her face. The miraculous, Adrien, Alya, work, it was a lot she had to figure out and come up with solutions in order to maximize her time to find The Genie. And the more things continued to pile up, the more it was starting to look like she might be stuck for several days.

“I need help, fast,” she admitted. “I can’t do this on my own. I need to find a way to convince Alya to help me as soon as possible. Does she patrol often?”

“She does,” Tikki said. “I know I said we can try to convince her, but after this morning, I don’t see her helping you very soon. She might need time before you ask her.”

“I have to try.” Marinette turned back to the corkboard, already interrupted several times from being continued. Without another word, she added Gabriel’s and Nathalie’s pictures on the upper-right corner of the board, plus the miraculouses they owned. “Any miraculous we do know who has them?”

“I know Mayura has the mouse miraculous. Hawkmoth definitely has the dragon and pig miraculous. The rest, I don’t know who has which.”

With a hum, Marinette placed the mentioned miraculous under its respective thieves. Slightly lower, she placed the rest of the drawings and added the word ‘stolen’ over them, merely to identify them as not in her possession.

“Did I ever make a proper investigation about these?” she asked, to which Tikki nodded. At least that was one thing she did right in this reality. “Okay then. That’s as much as I can do with that.” As she looked at what she had so far, her brows furrowed. “You said we lost the box. What… What happened to Master Fu?”

There was silence. Marinette turned slightly towards Tikki, only to find her looking away, eyes becoming glassy.

“No,” Marinette breathed.

“It happened two months before Nino passed,” Tikki said quietly. “He didn’t even get the chance to relinquish his guardianship before he…”

Before he died, Marinette finished internally, feeling her eyes well up once again. Her gaze turned down to the desk, mindlessly landing on Master Fu’s picture and a piece of paper with the word Deceased on it.

“Who did it?” she asked.

“The sentimonster active at the time,” Tikki explained. “Or at least, that’s what we think. There was also an akuma, and Hawkmoth and Mayura weren’t very far from him. It could have been any of them, but the sentimonster was closest.”

“Was it the same with Nino?” Tikki nodded. Marinette let out a shuddered breath as she proceeded to add Master Fu on the corkboard, close to Nino’s picture. “I really hate it here.” As she looked back at the desk, she realized there was one miraculous left. “Whatever happened to the black cat miraculous is still a mystery, right?”

Tikki nodded again. So, Marinette proceeded to place the picture of the ring isolated in its own corner, with the word Lost. Further right to it, she added pictures of Adrien and Lila, making a face of disgust as she did. Underneath their pictures she added: Untrustworthy.

“I’ve never in my life thought of Adrien as someone I can’t trust,” she said quietly. “I can’t believe I just associated that word with him. It feels so surreal.”

“But he did lose his miraculous,” Tikki reminded her.

“I know, I know.” Marinette swallowed, her stomach making a nasty lurch at the thought of him with Lila. “I think I’m going to need a break.”

“Are you okay?”

Marinette shook her head, as she sat at a nearby chaise. In fact, it seemed to be the same chaise that had been in her room at her parents’ apartment. She must’ve salvaged it from the destruction. Yet she couldn’t salvage her relationship with Adrien? The thought made her nauseous. Just imagining those nasty claws of Lila caressing his arms, it sent a cold shudder through her body.

“What’s wrong?” Tikki asked.

“I just need to remind myself that this reality will cease to exist,” Marinette whispered. “And everything that’s happened here will fade like a bad dream. All of you won’t even remember it. Please distract me, Tikki.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, um… The rest of the core team. Chloé, Kagami and Luka. Where are they?”

“Oh.” Tikki tilted her head. “Well, Chloé and Kagami are not in Paris.”

“What? Why?”

“They’re with their mothers. Chloé in New York and Kagami in Japan.”

“Why? Their mothers are awful.”

“Maybe so. But you weren’t exactly close to them to—OH! Marinette, look!”

Tikki grabbed Marinette’s cheek, pushing her to see through the window. A speck of orange was visible over the city’s rooftops. Marinette sprang to her feet, ready to transform.

“Any advice on getting her to my side quickly?”

“Just blurt out whatever you think might get her attention,” Tikki said.

Marinette looked back at the corkboard. “I think I have just the thing. Tikki, transform me!”

The light had barely finished washing through her body, when Ladybug was jumping out the window, swinging her way across the city as fast as she could. Although it was only an hour after midday, the sky was dark with heavy rain clouds. Nevertheless, Ladybug wasn’t letting the opportunity slip through her fingers.

She landed on the edge of a tall apartment building to survey the area she had seen the speck of orange. But it was like it vanished into thin air.

“Dammit,” Ladybug cussed. “Where are you? I just saw you.”

“You’re unbelievable,” a voice said behind her. Turning around, she saw the very person she had been looking for. “What part of ‘fuck you, Marinette’ do you not understand?”

“Hey, Alya. Um, Rena Rouge.” Ladybug held her hands together.

“You go looking for me one more time, and those earrings are coming off,” Rena Rouge threatened.

“I’m sorry,” Ladybug loudly said, taking Rena Rouge aback. “I’m very sorry about this morning. I didn’t mean to hurt you—”

“Oh, save it,” Rena Rouge spat. “I don’t care for your pity. I just need you to stay the hell away from me. I thought that I had made myself clear.”

“Yes, and I understand that. But—”

“But nothing,” Rena Rouge growled. “You don’t get to decide what I need. Much less after the display you pulled today. Just get out of my life!”

She turned around, about to leave, so Ladybug made a last desperate attempt at retaining her.

“Nino’s alive!” Ladybug shouted. And to her relief, it had the desired effect, for Rena Rouge stopped dead on her tracks.

“What did you just say?” She turned her head to the side.

“I-In my timeline,” Ladybug continued, hoping Rena wouldn’t change her mind. “This reality, it’s not what it’s supposed to be. I’m not who you think I am, I’m not the Marinette you’ve known, I’m from a reality where Nino is alive and we won. But an akuma caused this and I need your help setting it right.”

Ladybug could see Rena’s breathing accelerated. She wondered if it was enough, or if the damage had been too much. Rena Rouge opened her mouth slightly, but no words came from it. Perhaps it was time to push her luck.

“I know you don’t have many reasons to believe me, but don’t you think I was too oblivious this morning for it to just be a hangover?” She continued. “As awful as I’m sure I’ve been in this timeline, I doubt I’d go as far as being cruel. So there would have been no reason for me to bring up Nino, unless I had no idea he passed away. And trust me, that’s something I would never forget. I know it’s hard to believe me, but please give me a chance to explain everything.”

“How can I know if you’re telling the truth?”

Ladybug pressed her lips together. “You don’t,” she said. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need you to trust me.”

“That’s not good enough,” Rena interrupted. “Unless you can provide proof, I can’t get my hopes up by your word alone. I also don’t understand why it has to be me. Seems convenient.”

“You’re the only one of my team left with a miraculous and not dating one of my enemies.”

The wind blew past them, the smell of approaching rain filling Ladybug’s nostrils as she waited for a response. When Rena Rouge turned back ahead, she said at last: “I don’t buy it.”

A mournful breath left Ladybug’s lips, just as her transformation collapsed without warning.

“SHE’S TELLING THE TRUTH!” Tikki screamed. The fox hero turned on her heels, eyes bulging out of their sockets. Marinette attempted to call her back, but was ignored by the kwami. “Please believe me. She’s not our Marinette. There’s a reality out there where I still get to see Plagg. But we need to beat the akuma for it to come back, for our lives to be out of this awful place without the ones we love. Please, I’m begging you, Rena Rouge, please help us!”

Marinette could feel her eyes well up for the hundredth time that day. After eight years as a team, she had never seen Tikki in so much anguish. She couldn’t help but reach out and hold the small goddess as she sobbed.

“Tell me everything,” the voice of Rena Rouge demanded.

* * *

The rain was falling hard against the windows of the café, as Marinette finished telling Alya everything about her arrival to this reality. She waited with bated breath, as her best friend removed her hands from her temples.

“So,” Alya said after catching her breath, “you’re saying that Chat Noir not being around as your partner derailed our entire existence?”

“Pretty much,” Marinette sighed, as she took a sip of her coffee.

“Damn,” Alya scoffed. “I would say you’re full of shit, but I had never seen Tikki vouch for you like that.”

“Yeah, I noticed how unhappy people are with me,” Marinette said quietly. “I’m sorry this timeline’s version of me made you guys go through such hard times.”

“Hmm.” Alya brought the tea to her lips, hesitant. “I mean,” she started, “I guess, to be fair, you were going through a hard time yourself, you know, having literally no one to lean on. If I had known about your parents…”

“It’s still not an excuse to act unkind,” Marinette insisted.

“Look, what matters is what’s happening now,” Alya interjected, landing the cup of tea on the table. “You said you can fix this. Now tell me how.”

“Okay, so you know how I have to defeat a villain in order to fix all the damage they made, right?”

“The thing I learned today, yes.”

Marinette winced. “Right. I need to find The Genie in this timeline and defeat her. Once I free her of her akuma, I can purify it and revert this reality she created.”

“Even if you do purify the akuma, how are you so sure the Miraculous Cure can bring back an entire reality that’s currently lost.”

“I once brought back a temple that had been lost for over a hundred years by purifying an amok,” Marinette stated. “If I can do that, I can bring back a lost reality. Which I’m sure is not a hundred percent lost. I just need to find that akuma.”

“And you said you don’t think she looks like an akuma currently,” Alya added skeptically.

“Right,” Marinette sighed. “Considering she can change an entire reality, I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to assume she can also change her appearance. Otherwise, someone would’ve seen her by now.”

“Good point,” Alya muttered, before raising her voice slightly. “So, what’s the plan? If you have one.”

“I started making a board to figure out everything that’s different in this timeline and where the heroes and villains are. Obviously, I know exactly where Gabriel is, but I don’t know much about Ms. Sancoeur. And I can’t take their miraculouses yet, or The Genie will figure out I have my old memories.”

“Good call. Okay, so, that’s the villains. Does that mean you know who Chat Noir is and where to find him?”

Marinette pressed her lips. “I do. But… Ugh, I can’t trust him here,” she admitted. “I already bumped into him, and he was so hateful towards me. Well, Marinette me, at least. I think he wouldn’t believe me if I tell him everything, so right now, he’ll be staying in the dark.”

“So you know who he is!” Alya said, edging her seat. Marinette nodded. “I would love to know the identity of the coward who abandoned you.”

“If you want to know just to kick his ass, I’m afraid that information is currently off-limits.”

“Come on—”

“And like I said before,” Marinette interrupted, “whatever the reason that he’s no longer Chat Noir, I know it wasn’t his choice. He loves being Chat Noir more than anything, and I know he would never give it up unless he thought it was a matter of life or death.”

“If you say so,” Alya sighed, sitting back while drinking some more of her tea. “What about the other heroes you mentioned?”

“Well, I got you, so that is my biggest relief,” Marinette said. “I know now what happened to Carapace. What I don’t know is about his miraculous—”

“I have it,” Alya responded.

“Oh. Good then,” Marinette let out a breath of relief. “So that’s another miraculous Gabriel and Ms. Sancoeur don’t have. Anyway, the bee holder is not in France, and neither is the dragon holder. So that leaves the holder of the snake miraculous, but that was where I left off.”

“You thinking of bringing them in?”

“I’ve considered it, yes,” Marinette confirmed. “Out of the entire team, he was always the most levelheaded one. Of course, I don’t have the snake miraculous, so the bee will have to do. But I have no idea where to find him, and I don’t have his number in my phone, for some reason. So I need you to help me make contact.”

“Why me? Wait, do I know him?”

“Yes, Luka.”

“Luka?!”

“Yeah, I thought about calling Juleka or Rose, but I don’t wanna come off a bit weird, since I don’t know—”

“Waitwait, time-out.” Alya made the gesture she said. “You’re telling me, of all the people in the entire city, you choose Luka? Luka?”

“He’s basically part of the core team,” Marinette argued. “He was one of the firsts I trusted with my identity, he recognizes the importance of teamwork, has the most patience out of all the holders, and even had to wear the black cat miraculous once. I know he can do—”

“He’s in rehab,” Alya interjected.

The coffee cup landed loudly on the table. Marinette’s mouth hung open, right where she left off her sentence.

“He’s… WHAT?!”

“Ow,” Alya winced, covering one of her ears.

“What do you mean he’s in rehab?!”

“I mean,” Alya said, pointedly lowering her voice, “he decided to get clean after Juleka woke up from her coma.”

“Juleka was in a—God, why do I even question anything in this timeline.” Marinette dragged her hands down her face, attempting to get her tone several octanes lower, yet failing miserably. “This is literally my worst nightmare. And everyone else’s it seems!” Marinette grabbed at her hair. “I-I… I don’t have a team. I literally have zero core members available outside of you. I mean, unless… How long has Luka been in rehab?”

Alya blinked. “Don’t even think about it.”

“He’s our best shot.”

“He’s an addict. The last thing he needs is stress.”

“Or maybe he needs to be trusted. And a support system.”

“No, he can’t be around you,” Tikki interjected, poking out of Marinette’s purse that was sitting on the table.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Marinette groaned.

“You two have a history together,” Tikki explained.

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like a big deal. He’s my ex-boyfriend in my timeline, too.”

“Wow, your timeline sounds fascinating,” Alya said, resting her chin on both her hands. “So you actually dated Luka in your timeline.”

“I—Wait, I’m confused.” Marinette said. “Tikki just said we have a history, but you’re acting like this is new information.”

“Alya doesn’t know,” Tikki cleared up.

“Know what?” Marinette and Alya said in unison, the former concerned while the latter excited.

“Before Luka went to rehab, you two had a… I think what you call a fling?”

“Okay?”

“Oooh.”

Marinette and Alya said in unison.

“It didn’t end very well,” Tikki finished, tucking back into the purse.

“Of course it didn’t,” Marinette deadpanned. “Though, to be fair, things could’ve gone better in my timeline, too.”

“What happened in your timeline?” Alya asked, sitting back while sipping her tea again.

“My secret identity is what happened,” Marinette said with a tired sigh. “Eventually, it wasn’t sustainable.”

“And yet, you’re still with Adrien in that other reality?” The reporter arched a brow.

“Things are different with Adrien,” Marinette reasoned, careful not to let slip his identity. “We found a way to make it work. But that doesn’t matter, Adrien’s not part of the plan, nor is he getting a miraculous.”

“Why not?”

Marinette shifted in her seat. “I just see no reason to bring him in. The only thing I need to do with him is make sure he doesn’t get in my way. Which I’ll be doing tomorrow.”

“Whatta you mean?” Alya pried. To which Marinette explained part of her encounter with him that morning. “So, you could be delayed in your investigation because of a potential court order.”

“Yup,” her lips made a popping sound at the last letter. “If I want to reverse this mess as quickly as possible, the last thing I need is to worry about going to jail, or something of the likes. So, I will convince him and… ugh, Lila, that I’m done and that I’ll be leaving him alone.”

“You seem to dislike Lila,” Alya said, eyes squinting.

“Let’s just say she’s very different in my timeline,” Marinette limited herself to say. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I do that tomorrow so I can focus more on finding The Genie. And to do that, I need to know everything there’s to know about this timeline.”

“Does that include…” Alya gulped, “Does that include Nino’s death?”

Marinette’s gaze lowered to the already cold cup of coffee in her hands.

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” she whispered. From the corner of her eye, she saw Alya’s tea land on the small plate.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Alya said quietly. “But not here.”

Marinette slowly looked back up, finding a solemn expression on Alya’s face.

“Okay,” she agreed. “We can go to my place.”

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#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #akuma flashpoint #ml af #ladrien #marinette dupain-cheng #ladybug #alya cesaire #rena rouge #mrs. boche

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wearebackbagels · 1 year

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From me to you: the all around hated Mr Real Thing with his one true love a chicken on his shoulder.

(The german equivalent of a parrot, I bet Mirren won’t be too happy when she realizes there is another shoulder-sitter on the ship haha)

FUNNY HEADCANONS IN THE COMMENTS FOR EVERYONE!

@invisiblegargoyl

#sas rogue heroes #walter essner #Mr Real Thing #au #our pirate au #Paul boche #i can't belieave on single photo turned into a whole story haha

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moonstone-vibe · 1 year

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Mr. Real Thing ;) @wearebackbagels

#sas rogue heroes cast #sas rogue heroes #mr real thing #walter essner #paul boche #blorbo

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skeletalroses · 1 year

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Jerry and Severen’s cameos in Anno Dracula

Posting by request from @rock-n-macabre! I’ve never seen anyone on this site mention the Anno Dracula series by Kim Newman, but it’s an AU/spinoff of the original Dracula novel wherein Dracula was not defeated and successfully took over England. It’s an alternate history of real-world events in which vampires live openly, and it’s populated by personages from all manner of vampire media, real history, and classic literature. The list of cameos and references is massive and they range from major characters to hidden Easter eggs.

For us 1980s film vampire fans, here are the relevant excerpts from the chapter featuring my beloved boys Jerry Dandridge of Fright Night and Severen of Near Dark. This is from book two of the series, The Bloody Red Baron, which centers on World War I. In this scene, Allied pilots are launching an attack against a German aerial force of huge shapeshifting vampires.

The pilots for tonight’s jaunt were already in flying kit. Allard had a few veterans of the old Condor Squadron, but most, like Winthrop, were from the new intake. Mainly, they were American vampires, purposeful as blades, solitary as cats.

...

Allard liked to have the patrol line up as if for inspection, and go over the particulars once more. Winthrop fell in by Dandridge, a Yank new to the war but skilled in predation. The elder had passed among the warm for centuries, stalking in the cities of the living. Others of the intake---the cowboy Severen, the insatiable Brandberg, the idealist Knight---were old, turned before the 1880s. Mr. Croft reasoned that those who lived through ages of persecution must have the instinct to kill and survive. There was friction between these elder aces and Cundall’s contemporaries. No arguments, just mutual distaste.

...

Allard favoured a barbed arrow formation: taking the tip position himself, ranks falling back above and below and to both sides. Winthrop kept steady immediately above and behind the flight commander, with the high man, Dandridge, immediately above and behind him.

...

Winthrop watched the flier tumble, wings like an umbrella reversed by a sudden wind. He recovered and cruised downwards. Severen was on the wounded vampire’s tail, whooping and firing like Broncho Billy. The elder had a killing thirst and was ignoring tactics. When his guns were empty, his enemy would recover and come for him.

...

Another burst. Another miss. The bat-creature executed a perfect Immelmann and swooped towards the slice of moon. Dandridge was on his tail, firing scientific bursts. The Boche came out of his turn and spread wings wide. Dandridge had hit him. Red gobbets dripped in black fur.

With a sinking motion, the shape-shifter got beneath Dandridge’s climb and latched like a lamprey on to the underside of the Camel, wings wrapping upwards, tail lashing. The Camel’s frame buckled and its engine stalled. The prop sliced into the Boche’s face but jammed.

Winthrop was appalled.

The Camel came apart. Dandridge’s upper plane ripped off and disappeared like a kite in a storm. The shape-shifter detached from the aircraft. Dandridge’s crushed wreck plunged, wind shrieking in the wires. As he went down, Dandridge emptied his guns.

The creature that had killed Dandridge struggled to stay aloft. He had taken many hits and the propeller slice was severe. His wings were ragged and torn. Ribbons of dark blood flew from wounds.

...

Fourteen had approached the castle. Five were returning.

Winthrop had seen Dandridge and Rutledge killed and known Severen would lose his match. Now, he realised he had for a half-instant glimpsed one of the shape-shifters with a human rag in his mouth, shaking his head as blood-trails whipped. That had been another of the pilots.

The rest had been killed without his even noticing. Nine men exchanged for two monsters. The dog-fight couldn't have lasted more than two or three minutes.

Poor guys had a rough night, but meh, they’ll be fine. (Jerry can turn into a bat; he was probably out of his plane before it hit the ground.) It’s fun to imagine the pair of them as coworkers/war buddies, and even more fun to picture them helping haul each other’s battered asses off the field. (Someone will have to draw that. That someone may even, eventually, be me)

I’m assuming there’s some kind of conscription going on, because I don’t envision Severen volunteering for an outfit that’s all about authority and discipline like the military (we see how well he follows orders). So I love that someone along the line looked at this unhinged, chaotic bastard and decided that what he needed was access to heavy munitions and the power of flight

#Near Dark #Severen #Fright Night #Jerry Dandridge #Anno Dracula #vampires #monsters #war #violence #why this is hell nor am I out of it

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docrotten · 1 year

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DEATH RACE 2000 (1975) – Episode 185 – Decades Of Horror 1970s

“You know, it used to be in the old days, we would just take someone like you in an alley and blow their brains out.” While you eat lightning and crap thunder? Join your faithful Grue Crew – Doc Rotten, Chad Hunt, Bill Mulligan, and Jeff Mohr – as they take a ride-along with David Carradine and Sylvester Stallone in Roger Corman’s Death Race 2000 (1975). Vroom, vroom!

Decades of Horror 1970s Episode 185 – Death Race 2000 (1975)

Join the Crew on the Gruesome Magazine YouTube channel! Subscribe today! And click the alert to get notified of new content! https://youtube.com/gruesomemagazine

In a dystopian future, a cross-country automobile race requires contestants to run down innocent pedestrians to gain points that are tallied based on each kill’s brutality.

Director: Paul Bartel

Writers: Robert Thom (screenplay by), Charles B. Griffith (screenplay by), Ib Melchior (from his story: “The Racer”)

Producer: Roger Corman

2nd Unit Director: Lewis Teague, Charles B. Griffith,

Selected cast:

David Carradine as “Frankenstein”

Simone Griffeth as Annie Smith (Frankenstein’s navigator)

Sylvester Stallone as Joe “Machine Gun” Viterbo

Mary Woronov as Jane “Calamity Jane” Kelly

Roberta Collins as Matilda “The Hun”

Martin Kove as Ray “Nero the Hero” Lonagan

Louisa Moritz as Myra (Joe’s navigator)

Don Steele as Junior Bruce (race announcer)

Joyce Jameson as Grace Pander (race announcer)

Carle Bensen as Harold (race announcer)

Sandy McCallum as Mr. President

Paul L. Ehrmann as Special Agent (credited as Paul Laurence)

Harriet Medin as Thomasina Paine

Vince Trankina as Lieutenant Fury

Bill Morey as Deacon

Fred Grandy as Herman ‘The German’ Boch (Matilda’s navigator)

William Shephard as Pete (Jane’s navigator)

Leslie McRay as Cleopatra (Nero’s navigator)

Wendy Bartel as Laurie

John Favorite as Henry (credited as Jack Favorite)

Sandy Ignon as FBI Agent

John Landis as Mechanic

Darla McDonell as Rhonda Bainbridge

Roger Rook as Radio Operator

Dick Miller as a member of the Chicken Gang (uncredited)

Lewis Teague as a Toreador (uncredited)

Join the Grue-Crew as they revisit the campy sci-fi smash-em-up, Death Race 2000 (1975), from Roger Corman’s New World Pictures and director Paul Bartel. The film stars David Carradine (as Frankenstein) opposite pre-Rocky Sylvester Stallone (as Joe “Machine Gun” Viterbo) in the dystopian “future” of the year 2000, a time when Americans root for their favorite drivers as they race from New York to New Los Angeles mowing down civilians along the way for points. Machine Gun Viterbo is out for blood while Frankenstein has other plans. Let the shenanigans begin.

At the time of this writing, Death Race 2000 is available to stream from Tubi, Popcornflix, Cultpix, and PPV from Apple TV.

Gruesome Magazine’s Decades of Horror 1970s is part of the Decades of Horror two-week rotation with The Classic Era and the 1980s. In two weeks, the next episode, chosen by Bill, will be Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (1977), showcasing Ray Harryhausen’s genius, Jane Seymour, Patrick Troughton, and . . . Patrick Wayne? That should be interesting.

We want to hear from you – the coolest, grooviest fans: comment on the site or email the Decades of Horror 1970s podcast hosts at [email protected].

Check out this episode!

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kissmyhandcallmedarling · 3 years

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~ sinners, aren't we all ~

the roses - chapter two:

it's the year 1918. you, a mere young woman of 16, eager to learn the ways of the modern lady and find her place in the world. meanwhile, almost three-thousand miles east, james march readies himself to flee the nest - flee from the cruel grasp of the societal hierarchy, and more importantly, his father.

wordcount: 2,078

tw: violence, domestic abuse, mentions of flagellation, death, abusive parent

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

"Honestly, Martha, if it was up to me, I'd choose not to meddle with the affairs of the Brits or the French. The Boche are not those who I'd wish to brush the wrong way!"

"Well, it's not up to you, is it, dear?" Your mother placed a generous plate of breakfast in front of her husband. "Let the president and Congress deal with it. You need not stress over politics so much, sweet. Do not forget, you are a businessman, not a politician, Albert."

"If we take any responsibility in aggravating those wretched Germans, I swear to it, Martha, there will be another war!"

"It's nearly 8:30, honey," she brought your father his hat and coat. "You wouldn't want to be late for work." And with that, she ushered the man out the door with a kiss on the cheek, clearly eager to avoid any more of her husband's intense right-wing views and opinions of those put in charge to lead the nation.

Saturday wasn't usually a working day for Albert, however, he had some pressing affairs to tend to that "could simply not wait until Monday" according to him. Your father was a kind soul, a good Christian man, but often prioritised his duties as a boss over his duties as a father. But you loved him nonetheless.

"Good morning, Mother."

You padded down the steps, dressed in a dainty yellow petticoat.

"Good morning, cherub," your mother kissed your head affectionately, as you embraced her. "You look rather dandy this morning, love. Going somewhere?"

"I was hoping to go visit Alice today, mother. For church choir practice of course." Your voice slightly faltered... lying was harder than you thought. Well, you were more so stretching the truth... you were going to visit Alice, but tuning your vocal chords wasn't included in the agenda for today.

Her lips pursed before her face softened. "Alright, love. You may go. Just promise to stay safe, alright."

"Of course, mother." You hugged her tightly before rushing out the door without a second thought.

Your friend lived only a few properties down from you, so you were standing outside of her front door within a few moments. It was Mr Hamish who greeted you, inviting you into his abode and providing you with the whereabouts of his daughter. "I believe she is in her bedroom at the moment, y/n."

"Thank you, sir." And you headed down the hallway to locate your companion.

"Y/n!" You were startled by the voice you recognised to be Alice from behind.

"Golly gosh, Alice! You surprised me. Your father told me you were in your bedroom!"

"I know, I heard him speaking with you. I've missed you!"

"Alice, we saw each other on Thursday, at the sermon."

"Yes, that is true, but I've really been deprived of fellow female company lately, with three brothers and all."

"What about your mother?"

"She doesn't count."

You playfully rolled your eyes at your friend's neediness. But that was dear Alice. She was most certainly going to be the one with a family first, out of the two of you. In fact, you were sure she would become one of LA's finest socialites one day.

"So, what are our plans for today?" You asked her. "I doubt we will be getting around to that choir practice anytime soon."

"You know me too well, my friend. Come," She took your hand and dragged you back towards the entrance to her home. "Let's venture out into the day."

Soon enough the two of you were making daisy chains in the local public garden. The estate boasted a vast array of shrubs, flora and other herbage. From magnolia to carnations, to lavender, all breeds of flowers bloomed in abundance. But your favourites were the roses - you'd always enjoyed the roses. They grew so elegantly, their scarlet red heads upturned towards the direction of the sun. There was something so poetic, so thespian-esque about them; as deadly as they were beautiful. Touch them in the wrong spot and you will bleed. Just as Alice did right at that moment, as if your thoughts dictated fate.

"Ouch!"

You watched as her reflexes took control and instantly pulled her hand away from the flower. Beads of blood began to form at the site of puncture.

"Wretched things, aren't they!" Alice sucked her injured finger briefly before seating herself back down, flattening the creases in her frock with her free hand.

"I enjoy them. You just have to know how to handle them. Carelessness will only result in affliction." You replied, continuing to weave the daisies together.

"I suppose so... but I don't have time for such. Best to just ignore them altogether."

You sighed. You and Alice had been close for as long as you could remember, but that didn't mean you were without your differences. Alice was a do-er. She didn't seem to think about things so much.

"Oh, I almost forgot," she reached for her purse, retrieving an unopened pack of cigarettes and a box of matches. "I took them from my father's coat pocket. He's got so many at home. He won't even notice they're missing."

"Alice! You know I don't smoke!"

"Neither do I. Come on, y/n. It'll be worth it." She opened the pack and offered you one. "You lied to your mother this morning didn't you? You told her we were doing to be practicing for choir?"

"Well, yes."

"This is no different! She will be none the wiser."

You knew it was wrong, but you couldn't suppress that tiny part inside of you that said: 'do it'. Your mother would be disgraced if she found out, and would most definitely revoke your dessert privileges for at least a week. But what was life without risks? What was life if you ignored such urges altogether? If you chose to avoid the roses rather than learn to handle them?

And so you took a cigarette, clenching in in your teeth, as your friend lit it for you. You took a breath and instantly started coughing. Your lungs felt as though they were burning.

Despite the uncomfort, you were free. It was liberating, following your own heart.

Picking the rose.

James was settled on a bench, cigarette clenched between his teeth. His eye line was fixed upon a bush of white roses. Their chastity, their delicacy enticed him. He could not deny the darkness that was woven into his soul. He was damaged goods. James often pondered over whether that tenebrosity had always been there, or whether fewer shadows would have emerged in him, had it not been for his childhood. Laying his eyes on something so pure - the white roses - even if only for a few moments, refreshed him, as though cleansing the scars that illustrated his back. He took a long drag of his smoke, as the young man mulled over the future.

His ticket was booked. The day after tomorrow, James March was headed straight to LA . Not to start a career in flickers, but instead, expand his empire. You see, young Mr March was new money. At the spritely age of 22, he had already gained an incredible fortune through the coal and oil industry. He was a tycoon. But New York was no place for an apprentice businessman who'd struck it lucky. He lacked pedigree. He had the money but not the status to go with it. James was shunned by the greats of this east coast society, and so west he should flee. Away from the boundaries of social bureaucracy... but most importantly... away from his father.

January 1900

A little boy grasped a wooden car in his little hand, pushing it up and down the length of the table. His mother pottered around the kitchen, dishing up a meal for the family of three.

“No toys at the table, boy!” his father scolded, using the back of his fist to discard his child’s plaything off the dining surface. A gold crucifix hung from the man's thick neck. James watched the light dance and glint off the pendant, as though refracting all light in the opposite direction from his father.

"It's okay, Richard," Mrs March kneeled down to pick up the toy, placing it back in front of her little boy. "He's just a child." She circled around the table, collecting three plates on which presented the family's evening meal.

"Took you long enough," Mr March scolded. His expression was sour. "From now on, I expect supper to be ready by the time I get home from work, woman!"

"Of course, sir." She dipped her head obediently.

"Good."

When the meal had been eaten, his mother encouraged her son to head upstairs and prepare himself for bed.

"I'll be there to tuck you in soon, honey." She kissed his head tenderly before he waddled off.

She took a deep breath. Little James was the only factor in her life keeping her alive at present. She never loved her husband... well, she once had the notion that she cared for him, and him for her... but alas, she had since aged, and with age comes wisdom. This was not love. One doesn't dread climbing into bed with her spouse each night. One doesn't have bruises covering her arms, inflicted by the very soul whose surname she keeps. But she loved her child, and if being with him meant enduring a whirlwind of pain initiated by her husband, so be it.

As he flicked through the paper, James recollected these moments of his childhood. His parents were always arguing, but never in front of him. His mother was so incredibly strong - she didn't deserve any of it. She meant so much to him. One particular memory surfaced in his memory. It was one day, during the summer of 1904...

Her face bore a smile half the size of her face as she waited at the fence to greet him as he arrived home after school.

"Momma!" James ran up to his mother, hugging her tightly. "I have this for you!" He opened his fist to reveal the head of a beautiful white rose. It was crumpled, and damaged, but beautiful nonetheless.

Just like her.

"Oh, my love!" She exclaimed. "It's wonderful." The woman crouched down to meet the eye line of her boy. "You are so kind, my darling."

Her smile was something James was never going to forget. He adored so much about his mother. Her caring temperament, her goodwill. No matter how much damage inflicted on her by his father, she would always tuck him into bed every night.

Until one night, she didn't.

His father had killed her. Lost his temper, and twisted her neck. With his mother gone, Richard March held complete and total control over his son. She was no longer there to protect him.

Sunday, November 1910

"You pathetic son of a bitch!" The man hurled an empty glass bottle at his teenage son. "How dare you skip service! Off gallivanting with some little whore instead of paying your respects to the Lord!"

His fist connected with his boy's cheek. James stumbled backward, but his father lunged forward, gripping his son by the throat.

"Father... I wasn't-" James gasped for air. "I- I was at the li-brary, and I l-lost track of-" His vision began to darken as his father's grip tightened. "Of- of t-ti-me-" And he passed out.

When he eventually came to, James found himself sprawled on his bedroom floor. His back stung, as though someone had stabbed his skin with a thousand burning forks. Tenderised his flesh like a piece of meat ready to be cooked. His shirt lay beside him, torn to shreds. James slowly lifted himself up to his feet. It was then when he noticed his body in the mirror. His skin was bloody. His back was covered, from the nape of his neck to the waistband of his breeches, with deep, red slashes. His father had flagellated him for his sin. For dishonoring the sabbath day.

The white roses that engulfed the gravestone began to wither as the wind picked up. James put out his cigarette, folded up his newspaper, and crouched down, placing a kiss on her name.

Clara Florence March

May 1873 - Februrary 1910

"I miss you dearly," James took off his bowler hat, and held it against his chest. "Thank you for everything, mother."

#ahs hotel #ahs fandom #james patrick march x reader #james march x reader #james march #jpm x you #jpm x reader #ahs jpm #jpm #james patrick march #sarah paulson #evan peters #im the supreme forever so y'all can just suck it

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quang1179 · 3 years

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Vietceramics - Cung cấp giải pháp hoàn thiện nội thất: LH: Mr. Quang: 0906923586

- Gạch ốp lát nhập khẩu: Ý, Tây Ban Nha, Bồ Đào Nha, Ukraine, Malaysia, Indonesia, Thái Lan, Ấn Độ, Trung Quốc,...

- Thiết bị vệ sinh nhập khẩu thương hiệu: Gessi(Ý), Cielo(Ý), Villeroy & Boch(Đức), VitrA(Thổ Nhĩ Kỳ).

- Sàn gỗ Quick-step nhập khẩu từ Bỉ.

- Keo dán gạch, chà ron Weber Thái Lan.

#gachoplatdep #levanquang #vietceramics #gachphongkhach #gachmarble #gachbong #gachmo #gachchongtruot #R9 #R10 #R11 #R12 #gachtrangtri #gachximang #gachvandatunhien #gachvango #gachkholon #moderndesigns #bigslabtiles #gachoplatcaocap

#interior #landscape #model

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cannedpoo · 2 years

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"The story of the Atomic Cafe (1946-1989) is also the story of Little Tokyo, forced to move twice due to Civic Center expansion and redevelopment. The building, now occupied by Señor Fish, will be demolished this year to make way for the Metro Regional Connector station. Nancy Sekizawa, daughter of owners Minoru and Ito Matoba, took over the business and became known as Atomic Nancy. Nancy Sekizawa, daughter of owners Minoru and Ito Matoba, took over the business and became known as Atomic Nancy. Little Tokyo folks are working hard to commemorate the story of both the Atomic Café and its successor, the Troy Café, which enlivened the building for some 20 years with down-home Japanese American food, a hangout for punk rockers, and an incubator for the then-burgeoning Chicano/Latino arts movement. The Atomic Café was established by Minoru and Ito Matoba and moved to Third and Alameda in 1961. In the mid-1970s, Mr. Matoba suffered a stroke and his daughter, Nancy Sekizawa, started running the café, bringing her own taste in music and fashion. In the early 1980s, musicians from across the nation and even overseas could be found hanging out at the Atomic Café after hours. Blondie, The Go-Go’s, X, David Byrne, Linda Ronstadt and David Bowie were just a few of the café’s patrons. Sid Vicious once started a food fight there. After Sekizawa’s departure in the mid-1980s, her parents retired and closed the business. The Troy Café — another locally owned small business exuding artistic energy — opened in the same building. Attracting many young Chicano artists from neighboring East L.A., including Las Tres and Yeska, the Troy showcased local music, spoken word, and visual arts. Grammy-winning artists such as Beck and Quetzal performed there. The Little Tokyo Community Council’s Transit Committee, Planning Committee and Cultural Preservation Committee have been in discussion with Metro about a public art piece to commemorate the two cafés once the building — which dates back to 1913 — is demolished and the Regional Connector station is built. Award-winning filmmaker Tadashi Nakamura (“Life on Four Strings,” “A Song for Ourselves,” “Pilgrimage,” “Yellow Brotherhood”) is working with the Little Tokyo Service Center and fellow filmmaker Akira Boch on a short documentary about the two cafes and their legendary impact on L.A.’s music scene. “The interview for the project have been fun so far,” Nakamura said on his blog (www.tadashinakamura.com). “Listening to stories about L.A.’s punk scene in the ’80s and the Chicano arts scene of the ’90s have expanded my appreciation for Little Tokyo as a cultural hub for the arts.” https://rafu.com/2014/02/atomic-nancy-to-appear-at-former-atomic-cafe-site/

#atomic café

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riotatthemovies · 4 years

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Why did i watch this? Its so bad, so dumb. I guess it's more and opera then a regular musical as they speak like two lines then start to sing again. Its not songs more so when people get emotional the hoff sings his words. The background dancers seem to feel a song has started but everytime a new sentence starts Hoff starts to sing in a totally different tune and rhythm. I would have found it hilarious if it wasn't 2 hrs and 20 minutes with Mr. hyde not existing until 50 minutes in. I will say I loved how hoff differentiates Jekyll and hyde souly by his facial expression, his hair down and the way he moves as no real make up is used. It would be impressive if anything at all interesting happened. When the curtain closes at the end Hoff comes out and thanks the crowd references Baywatch and Knightrider before drop kicking the air thus making him even more hilariously douchey then ever. Ya gotta love that fucking wanker. To be fair after he left the show the role was played by Sebastian Boch of Skid Row, so i guess it could be worse. I can not believe Eyesore has a dvd of this. So weird.

Since Facebook and Instagram think my web sites name is a “dangerous link” its hard to post my large articles anywhere, but he is a link to a longer article about the ‘Hoff and the amazing yet infamous Baywatch Nights Season 2 , since at least I can link with in myself.. Hoffseption ...

#thehoff #david hasselhoff #dr jekyll and mr hyde

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whitequeenasitbgan · 4 years

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The House of Smoke and Fog Cap 10

May, 1917

Erin was walking around the garden early in the morning: she had lost weight, she was as pale as a corpse and her appetite was gone. She vomited every time she tried to content her mother and eat. She was nauseated by herself: she couldn’t even bear to look at herself in the mirror. He was dead. He probably died not knowing how sorry she was for not saying goodbye to him: he never answered her letter, after all; how could she be sure he knew. Not knowing how he had died was a torture. Did he suffer? Was he scared? Did he lay in the mud alone for hours before it all ended? She knew nothing. If only he could have relied on her, in his last moments. Maybe it wouldn’t have made any difference, he would have suffered just the same, but she felt like she failed him. Every human beings need to know they were loved when their life is about to end. He needed to know that he was loved. He needed her. But she wasn’t there.

She heard a horse galloping down the alley. When she turned, she noticed the horses were two and on one of them she recognised Joe. He greeted Mr Evans, they exchanged a few words, a pat on the shoulder. Then Joe came towards her. -Would you like a ride? -I’m not in the mood, Joe… but I’m happy to see you home, safe. -Tom wouldn’t be happy to know I’ve left to go back to France without talking to you. Tom. Everything reminded her of him. Erin exhaled loudly -I hate all this- she said as she took the reins from Joe. -Erin! you’re not in the right attire for riding! Your knees will be showing!- Her mother screamed. She didn’t care. Female propriety couldn’t have bothered her less. -Don’t worry, Mrs Evans. I’ll make sure no one will see her - Joe said, as he galloped to reach Erin.

They rode silently through the woods. Erin stopped at the clearing where Tom used to teach her how to ride. Joe left the horses browsing on, then sat by her side, against Tom’s favourite tree. -She used to sit hear and scream at me ‘look forward! Heels down!’ all the time- she said, breaking the silence -He taught you well - silence. An awkward silence. Tom used to fill it with a joke. -My mom said you might have wanted to know… more. -About? -How he died Erin turned at Joe, astonished -You know? How? -I wasn’t with him, but I met a soldier. Name is Schofield. He was with him. -What happened, then? He told her everything. About the mission, the Letter, Erinmore, a guy named Leslie who warned them, the German trenches, the dugout, the rat, how Tom saved his mate as the earth was about to bury them, about the cherries.. and finally about the farm. -He had to help him. Bastard Boche- Joe said. He was crying. His voice was calm as usual, his breaths were regular, but tears were falling down his eyes. He cried like Anne. -So that’s where he left him? at this farm, near Ecouste? -Yes… I imagine they took care of him, but we don’t know if we will ever get the chance to.. well, bury the body. -I understand. Did he suffer? -I don’t think so -You’re like Anne… -Anne who? -My best friend, Anne Shirley -Last time I saw her was ages ago -She’s changed a lot since then. We all are. But she never learned how to lie. Neither you did. -My mom doesn’t know. I think my dad does, but she couldn’t bear it. -I can. I want to. He was stabbed, Joe. I know what that means. He bled to death. -Not for long. -Not quickly enough, though. -And there’s more- Joe said. He was embarrassed. Visibly. -What else? -Schofield said he had just received mail, before he left. One from mom right before Erinmore summoned them. And one from you, the night before. Spent all night talking about it with Schofield. He had so many things to tell you… I know this is a bit private and that Tom would have said all this way better than me… Anyway the point is: he felt like there was nothing to forgive, it was all his fault… -it wasn’t. We were two fools. No, two morons, definitely morons Joe laughed, struggling to keep going -he wanted to tell you the he was sorry about what happened cause it made you skip a year in college and he encouraged you to go ahead, follow you dream, cause the last thing he wanted was to stop you from doing what you wanted with your life. He said he was looking forward to meeting you. And that he loved you. He always had and he always would have. Erin was relieved, but not as she expected to be by the news. She had dreamed of it: she had dreamed to receive an answer to her letter, sooner or later, in which he said those things. She even dreamed he was still alive once and that she still had a chance to be with him one more time. But now that she knew that yes, he had forgiven her and that he still loved her, knowing for sure that he was dead made it all even more cruel. They remained silent, for a while. -What are you going to do, now?- Joe asked. -King’s Scholarship Examinations, I suppose. Then, if successful, I’ll attend training college for two years. -Sounds great…Have you thought where? -Westminster Training College -London? Your parents? -They don’t like the idea of me going to London alone. But knowing I’ll be with Anne has finally convinced them to let me go. They would have had to face Anne’s fury if they didn’t. -This is… Men are so privileged I’m disgusted by my own gender -A feminist, ladies and gentlemen! -And I also support the suffragettes. Every man should. How could a non represented woman give birth to a free mind -Don’t ever get involved with politics -Why I’m not good at it? -No, you’re great at it. People like you usually get killed. You could start a revolution. -I’ll just help you with yours, as much as I can- Joe said, turning to look at Erin. She looked thoughtful -what is it? -Nothing -Erin… -Ok… It’s just that my world has turned upside down: I.. I was meant to be married by now. Tom should have been with me, in London. I don’t feel as invincible as I felt before. I know it sounds pathetic, but I just miss Tom and how he made me feel safe and powerful. -It’s not pathetic -It is -Erin said. She wasn’t comfortable with her weaknesses. She tried to cheer up the conversation -Not to mention that it would have been much better if my parents knew Tom was always with me there to ‘guard me’ Joe started laughing. It was a genuine belly laugh -Tom?! He needed surveillance himself! God knows how many times I had to take him home dead drunk from the pub. Mum never found out. -You were very discrete…- Erin said, closing her eyes to catch a glimpse of sun, before he got back playing hide and sick with the clouds -Thanks for this, Joe -You’re like a sister to me, you know that. Anything you’ll ever need, I’ll be there. I mean this. I owe this to Tom. -Just be careful, that’s all I need - Erin said. Placing a hand on Joe’s shoulder and gently squeezing it. He felt nothing like his brother. He was way more muscular and rough than Tom. Had they been dogs, Joe would have been a majestic and elegant Great Dane. Tom wasn’t a pure breed, he had the energy of a Dalmatian and the hard working attitude of a Shepard. He was good looking but not in a rough way: he was sweet. He looked at you like a stray dog, as if he was asking ‘can I believe in you or will you just let me down?’. He he did look at you as if he deeply believed in you. He really did. -Time to go home - Erin said. -Sure I can’t do anything else for you?- -You know what? Actually there is something You could do for us -Us who? -Anne and me. You could take us to London on your way to France.

‘This is it’ Erin thought as the train was running towards London, leaving the countryside behind ‘this is the future’. Anne was right in front of her, talking to Joe. And Joe looked bewitched by her. What a fool: he wondered around London for so long until he ended up in the trenches that he missed to notice there was an extraordinary young woman right under his nose. She was a girl when he left, no corset, no hair… and he was Tom’s big brother, of course he didn’t notice. How much time did they lose. They all did. Erin smiled, contemplating happiness, then she turned at the window again. It was open, so she got closer to it and lifted her head to catch the breeze. The sun was warmly kissing her. ‘This is the future, Tom. You are in everything. And all that I’ll do will be for you’.

Cap 11

https://whitequeenasitbgan.tumblr.com/post/613333193352953856/the-house-of-smoke-and-fog-cap-11

#1917 film #tom blake #blake x reader #william schofield #ww1 #dean charles chapman

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