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90363462 · 2 years

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ENTERTAINMENT

'The Walking Dead' Series Finale Includes Heartbreaking Deaths and Also Hope: 'We're the Ones Who Live'

After 12 years and 177 episodes, The Walking Dead wraps up its flagship series and sets up a future for fan-favorite characters

Breanne L. Heldman

Published on November 20, 2022 11:59 PM

This post contains spoilers from Sunday's series finale of The Walking Dead.

After 12 years, 11 seasons, 177 episodes, The Walking Dead on AMC reached its finale, even as the zombie apocalypse rages on.

And what a heartbreaking, blood-soaked finale it was.

When the penultimate episode concluded with Judith Grimes (Cailey Fleming) shot by Governor Pamela Milton (Laila Robins) and beloved characters all scrambling to save her, it was clear the 90-minute finale was going to hurt.

The episode opened with Daryl (Norman Reedus) busting into the hospital begging for help, only to be met by Commonwealth troopers who knock him out. Meanwhile, the hoard of walkers is coming. Thankfully, Judith wakes up long enough to find enough strength to get the doors shut and blocked before passing out on the ground once again beside Daryl.

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And then came the first two casualties of the night: Jules (Alex Sgambati) falls to the swarm and musician Luke (Dan Fogler) gets bit. His friends manage to get him to the hospital and gather around him as he bleeds out — but not before making sure they find the harmonica in his jacket pocket. He makes them promise to play. "Always."

Eventually, Daryl, Carol (Melissa McBride), Judith on a gurney and the rest of the group make it from the hospital and find Yumiko's doctor brother Tomi (Ian Anthony Dale), who gets to work on Judith. And it looks like the Little Ass Kicker will live to kick more ass.

Meanwhile, Rosita (Christian Serratos), Eugene (Josh McDermitt) and Gabriel (Seth Gilliam) find Coco and the other kidnapped babies but have to take shelter in an ambulance amid the seemingly endless swarm. They exit and fight off the walkers before climbing a pipe and entering an open window a few floors up.

Gabriel, with a baby strapped to him, makes it to safety, as does Eugene and the baby in his care. As Rosita starts to climb, the walkers pull her down and she eventually falls. In true TWDfake-out fashion, it appears she's down for the count for a moment until she emerges, slaying walkers left and right. She makes her way atop the ambulance and leaps to the pipe and through the window.

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The next time we see her, Rosita is staring at a sleeping Coco. Eugene comes over and asks her if she's looking forward to summer, but Rosita remains silent as he rambles on about the benefits of infants learning to swim. Finally, he asks again, "I can't wait for summer. Can you?" She gives him a look. "Rosita, when you fell?"

She nods and shows him a bite on her back. Her fate is sealed. She's soaking in her final moments with Coco. "You're going to be fine," she tells Eugene. He responds: "I just love you so much."

"I love you too," she says, letting a tear fall.

But there's another person whose fate needs to be determined: Pamela Milton.

Mercer (Michael James Shaw) offers to help the former Alexandrians escape while he and the Commonwealth citizens on his side face an inevitable battle. "People are dying and I can't just stand by," he says. "This isn't your fight. They aren't your people."

Ezekiel (Khary Payton) begs to differ. "Yes they are. And so are you," he declares. Aaron (Ross Marquand) chimes in: "We need to do more than just save ourselves." Quickly, the rest of the crew agrees they're going to stay and fight.

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When everyone surrounds Pamela, she declares Mercer a traitor. But he won't take it. "No, you are, Governor. You disappeared hundreds of citizens, led the dead to our doorstep. You shot a child. And now you've left thousands out there to die," he says, referring to the Commonwealth citizens trapped outside Pamela's gated community as the hoard approaches.

Gabriel marches toward the gate: "We're opening the gate and letting these people in and I'll kill anyone who tries to stop me." And Pamela urges her lieutenants to "shoot him."

But when Daryl insists, "We all deserve better than this. ... You've got one enemy: We ain't the walking dead," Pamela's army changed their tune.

Mercer arrests Pamela as Gabriel opens the gates, letting the citizens in — and leaving the walkers out. Seeing zombie Lance Hornsby (Josh Hamilton) at the gates, Pamela walks towards him, ready to let him kill her. But dying by suicide was more mercy than Pamela deserved, and Maggie (Lauren Cohan) shoots zombie Hornsby, freeing her.

"You have to help them Governor, all the people that are still out there!" Judith shouts. "It's not too late. It's never too late!"

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All the living make quick work of a plan to blow up the wealthy neighborhood within the Commonwealth, including Pamela's house, by blasting Living Colour's "Cult of Personality." They pour gasoline into the sewers and set explosives — and burn a good part of the Commonwealth to the ground in one of the show's biggest explosions ever.

"We kept you alive, after everything you've done, because we've all done things," Carol tells Pamela.

Earlier in the episode, Negan (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) apologizes to Maggie for killing Glenn (Stephen Yeun), delivering a speech about how sorry he is, and how she needs to live on. "I finally understood what you must've felt," he says. "I am so sorry for what I took from you, what I took from your son."

Later, Maggie responds (and Cohan delivers one heck of a monologue): "I've been thinking about what you said. I want to thank you. I can stop wondering if you'll ever say those words and if I can ever forgive you. Because I know now: I can't. Glenn was a beautiful person. I'll never love anyone like that again. I remember this smile, his goodness, and the way he made me feel. But when I look at you, all I see is that bat coming down on his head, blood running down his face. I hear him calling for me, and I hear you mocking me while he's dying. So I can't forgive you, even though I'm so grateful that you saved my son. Even though I know that you're trying. I'm trying too. Because I don't want to hate you anymore. I don't want to hurt like that. And I don't want my son to see that anyone has that kind of hold on me. If you and Annie want to stay, you've earned your place. … Because all I have are my memories, and I don't want to remember Glenn like that."

Soon after, it's time to celebrate. The favorite characters gather for a meal much like the one Carl Grimes dreamed of just before his death. Everyone is hugging and laughing and eating and drinking.

Lydia (Cassady McClincy) and Elijah (Okea Eme-Akwari) reunite and Magna (Nadia Hilker) and Yumiko (Eleanor Matsuura) kiss, rekindling their relationship. And Daryl looks out the window to the ground below and catches Negan's eye. They exchange a nod, and Negan walks away. For good. (Or, for now. As we know, he and Maggie will be reunited in New York City some way, somehow, for The Walking Dead: Dead City, coming to AMC in April.)

But Rosita is sitting alone at the dinner table, and Gabriel notices, and soon everyone knows what's to come. She enjoys quiet and beautiful farewell moments with Maggie, Carol, Daryl, Coco and Gabriel, who prays over her in a true full-circle moment for his character. "Receive her into your arms of mercy," he begins.

Finally, Eugene sits beside her. "I wouldn't be the man I am today if I hadn't met you," he says. She turns to him and smiles: "I'm glad it's you in the end," she says, referring to the fact that he will have to stop her from turning into a walker once she's dead.

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One year later, Eugene places flowers beside a plaque dedicated to Rosita and other fallen favorites. He and Max (Margot Bingham) have a baby — called Rosie — and they are all smiles as Ezekiel and Mercer are sworn in as Governor and Lieutenant Governor, respectively. Judith receives a compass and letter from Negan. Maggie wants to chat about the future.

And Daryl is ready to head out on a new adventure. He and Carol sit on a bench for one last chat. "I wish you were coming with me," he says in a fiction-meets-reality moment. (McBride was initially going to be costarring with Reedus on his spinoff.) "I'm proud of you. I am. You took Hornsby's job and made it your own... You made everything better. And you'll keep making it better."

"I'm allowed to be a little sad," she says. "You're my best friend."

Judith and R.J. join them and hug Daryl as he prepares to mount his motorcycle. "I'll find 'em both," he tells Judith, referring to Rick and Michonne. "I'll bring 'em home."

Judith, the wisest child in the world, tells him: "Daryl, you deserve a happy ending, too."

Daryl and Carol exchange "I love yous," and he's off.

But that's not the end. Boom: It's Rick (Andrew Lincoln) and Michonne (Danai Gurira)! In alternating voiceovers, they alternate statements like "I think of the dead all the time. And about the living who I lost. I think about them all, every day," and "I tried to get to you and your brother again and again … but I still got you, and you've got me. "We'll always be together, even when we're apart. We're love and Love is endless.

"We are endless."

And then we see them: Michonne looking like a true warrior still on a mission, Rick scruffy and barefoot (and wearing a CRM jacket) forced to surrender to a helicopter. "You've been located and are instructed to surrender," a voice from the chopper says. "It's like he told you, there's no escape for the living."

But Michonne says in a voiceover: "Remember what I said. It's what he said: 'We're the ones who live.'"

The final shot is Judith and RJ looking out at the landscape. "We get to start over," she says. "We're the ones who live."

The Walking Dead spin-offs will air in 2023 on AMC and AMC+.

Sent from my iPhone

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byneddiedingo · 2 years

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Harald Schwenzen, Alice O'Fredericks, Mona Mårtenson, and Peter Malberg in Laila (George Schnéevoigt, 1929)

Cast: Mona Mårtenson, Tryggve Larssen, Harald Schwenzen, Peter Malberg, Cally Monrad, Henry Gleditsch, Finn Bernhoff, Lily Larson-Lund, Alice O'Fredericks, Rasmus Christiansen, Inge Brekke. Screenplay: George Schnéevoigt, based on a novel by Jens Andreas Friis. Cinematography: Waldemar Christensen, Allan Lynge.

Exciting but overlong, Laila is a landmark film in Norway, but its cultural conflicts are universal. The story takes place in an unspecified past, when tensions between the Norwegians and the Sami (we usually call them Lapps, as do the intertitles, but that seems to have become a pejorative) have reached a kind of uneasy truce. The Norwegians want to settle down and build towns, while the Sami remain nomadic, moving their reindeer herds about freely in search of feeding grounds. At the film's beginning, the Norwegian merchant Lind (Finn Bernhoff) and his wife (Lily Larson-Lund) set out to have their infant daughter baptized, but as they're traveling in their reindeer-drawn sleds across the winter landscape, they're attacked by wolves. The nursemaid Magga (Inge Brekke), who is carrying the baby, is separated from the others and her sled overturns; she loses her grip on the child, who is tossed into some bushes, but before she can cut the rope that tethers the sled to the reindeer, she is towed away. Night is falling, and the little company must wait until morning until they can search for the baby. They find only the empty basket in which the child was swaddled. Director George Schnéevoigt makes the most of this sequence, as he does with several other action scenes, including a hair's-breadth rescue when a boat traverses some rapids and goes over a waterfall later in the film. Fortunately, one of the Sami, Jåmpa (Tryggve Larssen), who works for the wealthy herder Aslag Laagje (Peter Malberg), comes upon the baby and takes it to be raised by the childless Aslag and his wife (Cally Monrad), who name the girl Laila. A year goes by before Aslag discovers that Laila is actually the Linds' lost child, and he reluctantly gives her up to them. But then the land is struck by an outbreak of plague which kills both of the Linds, and the elderly couple who are looking after Laila allow Aslag to take her home with him. She grows up with no knowledge of her birth parentage, traveling with the Sami as one of their own. Mona Mårtenson gives a boisterous, athletic performance as the grownup Laila, reminding me a bit of Mary Pickford's inexhaustible energy in films like The Love Light (Frances Marion, 1921). She softens when she falls in love with Anders Lind, who runs a trading post the Sami visit during an annual market. But neither she nor Anders knows that they're really cousins -- his father and hers were brothers. Meanwhile, Aslag and his wife have been planning a marriage between Laila and Mellet (Henry Gleditsch), a foundling who had been taken in by the Laagjes even before Laila arrived. The rest of the film is a typical melodramatic stew of jealousy and prejudice: Norwegians, known to the Sami as "daro," don't marry Sami girls, Laila is told. There's a big Dramatic Moment when Laila is supposed to meet Anders at midnight by a cross-topped cairn, and when he fails to show (his father is dying and he can't leave the deathbed), she flings her arms out in a crucified pose. And there's a last-minute chase to reach the church after Laila agrees to marry Mellet: Jåmpa, who has always adored Laila, reveals to Anders her true parentage, and together they rush to tell her, only to be set upon by yet another wolf pack. Apparently, consanguinity is of less significance than intermarriage between Sami and daro, because Anders arrives in time to snatch his cousin Laila away from Mellet, who disappears in the general rejoicing. Even the conventional melodramatics, however, can't detract from the splendid documentary-like footage of life in the far northern mountains, the real reason to watch Laila.

#Laila #George Schnéevoigt #Harald Schwenzen #Alice O'Fredericks #Mona Mårtenson #Peter Malberg

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artificialqueens · 2 years

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Will You Make Me Believe? 2/? (Group Fic) - Candy Cane

A/N: thank u again to veronica and grinder for beta'ing and motivating me!!! i hope you all enjoy this second chapter <333

Story Summary:

After ten years of the government taking down major cities, the collapse of Chicago is devasting for the Rebellion in New York and the Resistance in Las Vegas. They are trying to fight back, but things get complicated when the leader of the Rebellion disappears. Bob goes looking for her and instead makes two new friends, Kim and Naomi.

When the three friends return to New York, they learn that Sasha and Peppermint went off looking for Bob weeks ago. With a new goal in mind, Bob sets out with a team of her most trusted to track down her friends. But there’s a much darker truth waiting for them in the Outside.

The Night Chicago Fell

New York City, N.Y.

The Rebellion had been tracking the Feds’ next move for months, yet they never could have been prepared for what happened that night. Their tip said they had at least another three months before Chicago was taken down, and foolishly, the entirety of the Rebellion had believed it. The Rebellion had even contacted the southwestern-based Resistance to share the information and their plans for preventing the collapse. There was so much riding on this tip.

Trust was not something that came easily in this age of collapsing cities, but they had trusted their source, and that was something Bob would forever regret. Sure, the possibility that said source was actually a double agent had crossed her mind, how could it not? Their secret tipper wasn’t someone Bob had ever met. But Bianca trusted them, and that had been enough. Bianca had never brought up the idea of the agent being a mole, and Bob had a million other things to take care of. Somehow, it all just slipped away. That would forever be a regret.

Bob was on the balcony of the Rebellion’s headquarters, an unreasonably expensive townhouse, with Thorgy when the Chicago bombings started. It was a usual night for them, Thorgy was sipping on a glass of red wine while Bob ranted about the latest thing that was bothering her. That night, she happened to be particularly annoyed about the crowded bedrooms. Living with a dozen people created a laundry list of problems for her to complain about and she had no shame in doing so, and Thorgy found Bob’s stress to be hilarious. A win-win for both of them.

Laila frantically swung the glass balcony door open. Bob and Thorgy turned around abruptly, and they were met with big, fearful eyes. Bob immediately knew what the problem was, but she still asked, because she still held onto hope that they hadn’t run out of time.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Chicago,” Laila said, panting for breath from having run up three flights of stairs, “You need to go talk to Bianca.”

No one had to tell her twice. She ran past Laila, went through the bedroom, and down the stairs as fast as she could manage. Dread filled up every bone in her body and terror coursed through her veins.

Bob barreled into the living room full of people, but was paralyzed by the images on the TV screen. She had seen it all before, everyone in the room had. All of them had lived through some horrible event or another in the last ten years.

No, watching Chicago collapse underneath itself in real-time wasn’t what hurt her so deeply. It was the knowledge that she could have prevented this.

She could have stopped the bombs falling from the sky, the buildings being blown to smithereens, the people running, the people falling, the people dying. She felt sick and subconsciously reached out to hold the hand of the person she was standing closest to, who happened to be her younger sister, Monet. Monet was the only reassurance Bob had, and she would gladly take whatever comfort Mo could give her.

All the members of the Rebellion stayed in the small room to watch Chicago crumble and fall. All of the news and camera crews getting the footage were slowly taken out, either by debris or the bombs themselves. The broadcasts would only last twenty minutes. They’d watch these people continue to fight to do their jobs, even as everyone died around them. It set a fire in her heart.

Monet looked at Bob with total shock, “We should have gone to Chicago earlier.”

Bob nodded stiffly, “Yeah.”

“What… What do we do now?” Monet asked, her voice quivering.

And wasn’t that the million-dollar question? Months of research, organization, and planning had been ruined in less than an hour, all because of a bad tip. Now all those people were either dead or trapped, with only TV static left to commemorate them.

Bob squeezed her sister’s hand, then squeezed past the crowd of people around the TV as she marched to the front of the room to where Bianca was standing in the corner, arms crossed over her chest and whispering to Sasha. Bob was angry, and she was not afraid of letting Bianca know it.

“Bianca,” Bob snapped, planting herself between Bianca and Sasha, “How in this fucked up world was our tip off by months?”

Bianca grimaced, and refused to look Bob in her eyes, “I wish I knew.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Bob asked angrily.

“What else am I supposed to say? We were too fucking late, that’s the long and short of this whole mess,” Bianca said. While her expression was as stoic as ever, her voice still carried remorse.

Sasha rested her hand on Bob’s shoulder comfortingly, a kind and sympathetic gesture that Bob appreciated. Understandably enough, they were all tense.

Sasha looked at Bianca with disapproval, “That much is obvious, Bianca. Emotions are high for all of us right now, maybe we should wait until tomorrow to discuss this further.”

Bianca sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, “Yeah, probably.”

Bob glared at both of them, “Wait? Wait?! Are you fucking with me? Waiting is why Chicago just collapsed! If we hadn’t waited, then maybe those millions of people would still be alive right now.”

“We don’t even know if our plan would’ve worked. It wasn’t guaranteed and you know that,” Bianca argued.

“We could’ve at least tried!” Bob stressed, tears welling up in her eyes, “We just- We had a chance.”

Bianca, in an uncharacteristic moment of sympathy, hugged Bob tightly, “I know. We just have to be ready for next time. We won’t let this happen again.”

Bob melted into the shorter woman’s embrace and allowed herself to shed a few tears. There was so much more that she wanted to say, but she would never be able to. Bob knew that Bianca was hurting just as much as she was, even if it was in a different way. Things hadn’t been the same for any of them since Courtney had… Well…

Even though Bob didn’t personally know anyone in that city, it didn’t matter. People still died, lives were still destroyed, and she would mourn all of them. Parents, children, grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, even fucking pets… They were all real people who deserved to be grieved, they deserved to be missed, and they deserved to be remembered.

“We better not,” Bob whispered, pulling away from Bianca.

Sasha cleared her throat, awkwardly reminding the other two of her presence, “I’m going to go talk to some of the others.”

Bob nodded and watched her as she went over to Monet. When Bob looked back to Bianca, there was a darkness in her eyes. Bob hadn’t seen her look so tired and sad in years. It served as a reminder that all of them were being pushed to a breaking point. Bianca always came off so strong, or at least apathetic, that seeing her facade crack for even a second was surprising.

Bianca gestured for Bob to follow her, and the two quickly left the room. Bob didn’t know what Bianca could possibly want to say in private, but she was curious to find out. Bianca led Bob into the dining on the other side of the townhouse, basically as far away from everyone else as they could get.

“Bianca,” Bob started gently, “What-” Bianca whipped her head around, horror painted over her face, “I fucked up.”

Bob took a step back, confused and scared, “What do you mean?”

“I fucked up,” Bianca whispered, her voice hoarse while tears dripped down her cheeks.

Bob wrapped her arms around herself, unsure of how to comfort her friend, “We got a bad tip, that’s not your fault.”

Bianca closed her eyes and inhaled shakily, “You have… no idea.”

“I know that we tried, I know that our supplies are limited, and I know that we’re just gonna have to do better next time,” Bob said with all the confidence she could muster up in the moment. She didn’t know what the fuck Bianca was talking about, and she didn’t care to find out either. They were all trying to cope with the fall of Chicago.

“She would be so pissed,” Bianca murmured, and it hit Bob that this was about so much more than just Chicago.

“No, she would be proud we’re still trying,” Bob argued. In fact, she could practically hear Courtney’s voice in her head going on about the ‘fighting spirit.”

Bianca didn’t seem convinced though, she just shook her head and shrunk in on herself.

Bob sighed, “We can’t change what happened, you know that, but we can figure out how to do better.”

Bianca was silent for several seconds, then the grief and remorse on her face melted away to be replaced by a dead stare that Bob had grown accustomed to from her.

“Right… yeah,” Bianca muttered.

Bob gave her a tentative smile, “Alright, I’m gonna go find my sister. Maybe you should take an early night tonight.”

“Maybe,” Bianca repeated.

Bob squeezed Bianca’s shoulder one last time, and against her better judgement left Bianca alone in the dining room. Bianca could handle herself, she had been for several years now, and Bob knew she preferred to be left alone. She wished she could say something to make Bianca feel better, but there was nothing to say at that point. Hopefully, things really would start looking up for them soon.

~*~

Present Day

New York City, N.Y.

Bob leans over the dining room table as she examines her maps, notes, and supply lists spread out before her, her mind running a million miles an hour as she considers the best plan of action. Kim and Naomi sit down across from her, each wearing an apprehensive expression. She knows they want to help her find Sasha and Peppermint, and she will not take that for granted, but it’s still hard for her to ignore their inexperience.

Betty, Thorgy, and Laila are in the next room over, definitely in an attempt to eavesdrop on their plans and on the two newbies. Bob would chastise them, except she doesn’t want to draw more attention to Kim and Naomi than she already has by bringing them here. There were no other options, though. None of them had the money for the two girls to stay at a hotel, and Bob certainly didn’t want to leave them alone in New York after the disaster that was getting here in the first place.

Bob looks up at them tiredly and passes her map to Naomi, “According to our runner, Sasha and Pep were last seen 5 miles south-west of Chicago.”

“They got that close to the city?” Naomi asks, clearly impressed. She narrows her eyes at the marks on the map, and Bob wishes she knew what Naomi is thinking.

Kim hums thoughtfully, “That wouldn’t be too far from the train station though, and it’s easier to follow the track than just wander.”

“Sure, but that also means they could be anywhere by now. They’ve been traveling for a while now,” Naomi points out worriedly.

Bob shakes her head, “They’re still going to be close to the area, runner said they were headed north.”

Kim frowns, “North? The only thing north of Chicago is Milwaukee, and Milwaukee… Well…”

“What’s wrong with Milwaukee?” Bob asks, almost surprised by Kim’s hesitance.

“It’s not exactly that, uh, likable,” Kim explains, trying her best to not be too cruel about the city, “Or livable.”

Naomi furrows her brows, “So, why would they be going to Milwaukee?”

“It’s still intact. They might be able to replenish their resources there,” Kim explains, then glances at Bob, “And if they knew you were near the Chicago area at one point…”

Bob sighs, “Fuck, they’re just doing what they think I would do.”

Naomi shrugs, “Why wouldn’t they? You are the one they went looking for, after all.”

“I know! They went looking for me even after I explicitly said they shouldn’t!” Bob exclaims, gesturing wildly, “And here we fucking are, looking for them now!”

Bob slams her hands against the table and glares at the paperwork spread over it. Her stupid fucking friends could be anywhere. The lead they’re following is thinner than thread, nothing about what the runner saw is a guarantee. But what else does she have to go by? If this doesn’t bring her to Sasha and Peppermint, then all of them are fucked.

She breathes in deeply, the stress of the situation overwhelming her and making her sweat. They don’t know what city will be destroyed next, they don’t know where Sasha and Peppermint are, and they don’t know who the mole is. There isn’t much room for things to get bleaker.

“If only we fucking knew what was next,” she says angrily, clenching her hands into fists.

Naomi sympathetically rubs Bob’s shoulder, “We’ll figure something out.”

Kim nods, “That’s why we’re going with you. You won’t be alone.”

Bob finds it admirable of both of them to insist on coming with her after everything they’ve been through. Between Kim revealing what happened to her friends and Naomi’s hesitancy to discuss her past, they have more than enough reason to want to stay in New York. Things have happened to the three of them in the last nine weeks that most people won’t experience in a lifetime, and maybe that’s why they want to come with her. How are the three of them supposed to move on as if nothing happened? In a way, it’s easier to just go back to the Outside and continue to fight.

Bob falls back into a chair, “We need to leave tomorrow morning, before dawn.”

Naomi quirks an eyebrow, “Why not today?”

“We need a solid night of rest and time to prep for the journey. If we play our cards right, I should be able to get us a better form of transportation,” Bob says, determinedly staring at the map before her.

There’s a big red circle around the radius of where Sasha and Peppermint could be, and it makes her sick to look at it. If she closes her eyes, she can still feel Sasha hugging her tightly and smell Peppermint’s sweet floral perfume. This is the closest to hell Bob ever wants to get.

Betty speaks up from the threshold to the dining room, Laila and Thorgy right behind her, “There’s no way in hell you three are going alone.”

Bob turns to look at her sharply, this is the last thing she needs right now, “There is, actually, because you and everyone else are staying here.”

“And let you go get yourself killed for a second time in one year? Are you fucking crazy?” Betty asks, stepping forward boldly.

“Betty, you know I have to go look for them,” Bob says tiredly, her voice bordering on begging.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to be so stupid about it,” Betty says, rolling her eyes and propping her hands on her hips, “You need strength and safety, and you’re not going to get that from those two. Look at them, can they really handle themselves out there? Because I bet those newbies don’t have half the experience I do in the Outside. ”

Naomi tenses up and stands up defensively, “Newbies? Newbies? You have no idea the shit I have been through. You don’t know what I’m capable of, so I suggest you don’t fucking try it with me.”

Kim rubs her face, “Naomi-”

Betty scowls and cuts Kim off, “Exactly, I don’t know you. So why would I trust you to keep my friend alive?”

Thorgy taps Betty’s shoulder, “Hey…”

Both girls ignore her though, too wrapped up in their argument to try and calm down.

“Who says I haven’t already?” Naomi says, practically seething as she takes a few steps closer to Betty, “Someone had to get her back here alive, you know. The three of us went through something out there, and that’s why we’re going back with her.”

“And you really want a repeat of that disaster?” Betty says, shifting her gaze to Bob. She stares her dead in her eyes with a darkness and certainty that Bob hasn’t seen from her in a very long time, “Bob, you know me. You know I can handle myself better than any girl out there. You need me in the Outside. Trust me, you're better off with me.”

Bob grimaces and gets up to stand next to Naomi while holding eye contact with Betty, “It’s not safe out there, no matter how experienced you are.”

“Then let me go with you,” Betty demands, “There’s strength in numbers.”

Bob groans and pinches the bridge of her nose, frustrated that no one gets her point, “I don’t want to risk losing everyone, Betty.”

“Well, I can’t risk losing you again!” Betty says, tears welling up in her eyes, “Do you know what it was like these last few months? The waiting, the not knowing, and then having a fucking funeral for you! Then you just waltz back in here like we haven’t been grieving you for weeks! Weeks! I never want to live through that again. I never want to have to tell Monet you’re dead again.”

Bob winces and takes a step back, she can’t look away from Betty’s accusatory gaze. She’s breathing heavily, anger flowing off of her in waves. Thorgy slaps Betty’s arm like she’s chastising a child, Kim stands up from her chair, and Laila crosses her arms over her chest. Bob does feel guilty for making her go through all of that, even if it wasn’t intentional.

Bob sighs and turns her eyes to the floor, unable to look at Betty any longer, “Look, I’m sorry, I know this hasn’t been easy-”

“You’re right! It’s been fucking awful, and that’s why I’m going with you. …I have to know,” Betty says, leveling her gaze with Bob’s.

Bob takes a few steps forward to pull her friend into a tight hug, “I’m sorry.”

“You better be,” Betty murmurs, returning the embrace.

Thorgy crosses her arms over her chest and steps through the threshold, “I want to go too.”

Bob stares at her, “What?”

“Oh come on, Bob, you’re not an idiot,” Thorgy says, rolling her eyes.

“But apparently you’ve lost your damn mind,” Bob snarks, pulling away from Betty, “It’s dangerous out there, Thorg’, real fucking dangerous, and you have never been in the Outside.”

“That doesn’t make me useless and you know that.”

“It does make you a liability,” Bob says, barely repressing her anger.

Kim throws her hands up into the air, frustration written all over her face, “Will all of you stop acting like toddlers? This isn’t a game. We are running out of time and there are lives on the line, so just make up your minds already!”

Everyone stares at her, and Bob can’t help feeling both proud of Kim and a little embarrassed by her bickering with Thorgy. She hasn’t known Kim for very long, but she’s smart and driven, which is how Bob knows that they’ll be friends for a while yet. Kim is also right, they don’t have time to be fighting with each other, not when Sasha and Peppermint are out there.

Laila smirks, “I knew I liked her.”

Bob chuckles and side-eyes Laila, “You always have perfect timing, girl.”

Bob goes back over to the table and frowns at her notes. It would be a massive risk to take so many people into the Outside, and it would leave their base emptier than it’s been in years. She wonders briefly what Sasha would do, then what Peppermint would do. As much as she doesn’t like it, she knows exactly what they would do in this situation- what they did do.

“Alright,” Bob sighs, “You two can come with.”

Betty and Thorgy smile victoriously, while Kim and Naomi look at her with confusion. She’ll just have to explain her reasoning to them later.

Thorgy claps her hands excitedly, “Okay! I’ll go put supplies together.”

“Hold on, there’s one condition,” Bob says.

Betty cocks her head to the side, “What?”

“We don’t spilt up. No matter what, we all stick together,” Bob says, leaving no room for argument, then she points at Kim and Naomi, “That goes for you two as well.”

Everyone nods and agrees to her stipulation, though Kim and Naomi don’t look happy. Bob is surprised, but thankful, that Laila doesn’t insist on joining them. At least someone understands her and her worries. Thorgy exits the room with Betty on her heels, muttering something about calling a guy. Bob hopes she means their automobile source, but there’s no telling with Betty.

Laila, however, gives Bob a sad smile, “Courtney would be proud, you know.”

Those words hit Bob like a truck, and for a brief moment she knows in the depths of her soul that Laila is right.

“Thanks,” Bob whispers, and with that Laila slips out of the room.

When Bob turns around to look at the newest members of her crew, Naomi is leaning against the table, lips pressed tightly together, while Kim just stands there looking worried.

Bob raises an eyebrow, “Look, I know it’s not ideal…”

Naomi scoffs, “They’ll just slow us down and you know it.”

“They mean well,” Bob offers, though she knows Naomi is right.

“What are their skills?” Naomi asks her.

“Betty is our best gunman, her aim is perfect and she never misses. And Thorgy is trained in medicine, she’s better than any nurse,” Bob explains, “I promise, they’ll help us.”

Kim still looks skeptical, “They don’t know what it's like out there. I didn’t until just a few weeks ago.”

“I know, but Betty spent a year out there alone, and Thorgy’s done her research,” Bob reassures her, walking forward to take hold of both Kim’s hands, “We can do this, okay? In and out.”

Both of her friends know it’s a lie. This rescue mission could be weeks or it could be months, but Bob’s confidence consoles them.

Naomi stares at where Bob’s hands are holding Kim’s, an unfamiliar fire in her eyes, “What do you need us to do?”

“Pack. Take whatever you want from our supplies, but I recommend only bringing essentials. Then y’all can shower and go to bed, enjoy the luxuries while we still have them,” Bob says, squeezing Kim’s hands before releasing them.

The two leave the room quietly and Bob feels guilty for taking them back out there with her. She knows she wouldn’t be able to go without them, that they would just follow her, so at least they’re all going together. At least they will have each other. Betty did have one really good point- There is strength in numbers.

Now all she has to do is wait for Monet and Brianna to get back from their supply run. She doesn’t know how she’s going to explain this to them, or if she even can. She’s only been back a week, and she doesn’t want to hurt them all over again. Regardless, Bob has to do this. There are no other options. She can practically hear the inevitable screaming match now.

An hour later, her prediction comes true.

Monet and Brianna enter the townhouse through the front door, their tote bags and backpacks bursting at the seams, and they see the travel bags stacked in the foyer. Bob hears Monet before she sees her, anxiety bubbling up inside her just from the sound of the door being opened.

“What the FUCK do you think you are doing?!” Monet screams, bursting into the kitchen to find her sister packing up dried and canned food, Bri right behind her.

Bob stands up and faces her sister. It’s a miracle the betrayal in Monet’s eyes doesn’t immediately kill her.

“I have to,” Bob says softly, “You know I have to.”

“You don’t have to do shit,” Monet says, her voice full of pain. Tears are streaming down her face.

Brianna stands right beside Monet and glares at Bob, and while she doesn’t say anything, the disapproval on her face speaks a thousand words.

“They are out there looking for me! I can’t stay here and live this cozy fucking life when they could die in my name,” Bob explains, throwing her hand over her heart.

Bri narrows her eyes and flips her blonde hair behind her shoulder, “I’m not happy about it either, but they made their choice. They knew the risks.”

“So do I! Why else would I be doing this?”

Monet wraps her arms around herself and stares at the floor, “Because you’re reckless, you have a massive fucking heart, and you never listen to me.”

“Monet-”

“No,” she interrupts, shaking her head, “Go. See if I fucking care. But don’t come crying to me when you realize you’ve wasted your time, or you’re dead for a second time.”

With that, Monet turns and runs up the stairs, probably to go lay in her bed and pout. Bri shoots Bob yet another angry look and chases after Monet, leaving Bob standing in the middle of the kitchen, hurt by the words from her closest friends. She has to find Sasha and Peppermint, she has to bring them home. There’s no way she can come back empty-handed now.

It’s a search and rescue mission at its core. They have to find their friends, they have to bring them home safely, and it’s not going to be easy. Bob knows that, but she still holds out hope that they’ll be back in New York soon. Milwaukee is days away, and the dust around Chicago has just settled, it would be a miracle if they were back in New York in two months.

At least she won’t be alone this time. Bob will have her friends, the people she trusts to make the journey a little safer. Now, more than ever, Bob has to prove Monet wrong. The stakes have never been higher, and Bob will be damned if she doesn’t rise to the occasion.

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anxious-ace · 2 years

Text

Au things/headcannons:

Cartoons are their own species that are separate from humans

They also have different "races/ethnicities/nationalities" like humans

Bunnies are a race, cats are another race, so on and so forth

But since Oswald and Mickey are brothers in the original comic, they would be considered mixed race

So would Bendy and Boris

There's a whole section of the toon population that don't have souls (either from birth or from selling it)

Felix is one of them although no one knew before he wrote about it

These kinds of toons are usually discriminated against and seen as evil

Toons usually live in ethnic city type deals away from humans (Toon Town and the Inkwell Isles being well known spots)

Yes this takes place in the real world (it's "Who framed Roger Rabbit" like though)

The Oracle and the devil work together but hate each other

The Oracle has Felix's soul, not the devil

Bruno (Felix's dad) works at the casino with Blackhat, Flug, King Dice and the devil despite technically having his own

Felix's mom gave him the magic bag (as I said before) as well as one of the hats he has (it's the hat he wears after he gives the first one to Oswald's kids, so the one he wears on the quest)

There were a few times where he looked at the hat to remind him what he joined the quest for (there's stitching on it that says, "to Felix, from mom" and "be safe and remember that you are always enough")

She was an archeologist (at least until she got the inkness, but she did start going back to analysis after she was cured) before him so he could've also started because he looked up to her wanted to be like her

Jack is the oldest out the Furrgeson kids (last name be punny), Felix is the middle child and Laila is the youngest

Jack is 40, Felix is 35 and Laila is 25-30 (I can't decide, she's probably 30)

So that's a five year age difference between Jack and Felix, and Felix and Laila while Jack and Laila have a ten year age gap

Jack is a bartender who also works at "death's office" (people who played "death and taxes" will know how that office functions)

Felix is a book writer, archeologist and adventurer like in the original comic (I did already state that he used to be a boxer)

Now for Laila, I don't know what job she'd have, maybe she owns a flower shop

So the characters that are in the comics have the same jobs and relationships they do in that comic whereas I'll have to figure out the ocs and those who either aren't in the comic much or aren't in it all together (like Kitty or the "Animaniacs" kids)

Since most cartoons have tails (or are animals with defining features that human clothes wouldn't work with) there are tailors who make custom made clothes just for toons

This also goes for shoes, hats and basically anything that toons wear

There is an illness going around that only affects soul-less toons (I haven't figured out the details like the symptoms or how it spreads, I just know it exists)

It's especially bad for those who sold their souls or for those with bad immune systems (like Felix)

This is because those who were born soul-less had the time to get used to it

Felix is trying to get his soul back because it was unconstentally sold by his dad

His mom did not like that let's be honest (she couldn't do anything though because she was pregnant with Felix when it happened)

Felix is fucked up for someone who acts so damn cheery (at least in public) but is sane for someone who constantly experiences death (either the death of others or himself almost dying)

Not to mention what has been mentioned like I think 5 times already, all the other shit his dad did and the abuse as well as the bullying from outsiders

Jack has anger issues because of needing to be the one to raise Felix and Laila while their dad was drunk and mom was in the hospital

(Don't get me wrong, he cares for them and it's not like she was there the whole time)

She was first hospitalized when Felix was 9 (that means she's been in and out for 26 years until the questers basically eradicated the inkness)

Jack is a calico (or has the fur pattern), Bruno and Felix are tuxedo cats, Laila and Lillian (mom Furrgeson) are American short hairs (yeah no one knows how Jack's a calico)

(I based it off of my brother being the only red head in the family with the majority having brown hair)

Toons can shape-shift into human forms to better blend in when they are outside of the ethnic cities

They will need to pack clothes made for humans though

Toons can eat human food but humans can't eat the majority of toon food (it may contain ink)

Since the quest is over, Cuphead and Mugman are going to work on getting their souls back (but since they were forced to stop Bendy and Boris and decided to help them instead, the devil isn't going to take to kindly to it)

Jack and Oswald have each other's phone numbers and will call each other when needed (it's mostly about how Felix is doing)

Like, Oswald will see Felix in the corner, terrified even though nothings there, call Jack and Jack will say, "he's hallucinating, either give him a minute but make sure he doesn't hurt himself or others, or, stay until he comes back to reality and comfort him."

Felix has wanted to move in with Oswald but because of how many kids the man has, he thought that there wouldn't be enough room for him as well as Charlie and DJ (not the mention the furniture)

(Oswald would probably say that, "we both make a lot of money so we could probably afford a much bigger house we could all live in together." It makes Felix flustered of course)

Felix has a whole archeology team and the team has their own base (Jack and Laila are of course part of the team, Jack's daughter is also a part of it)

Her name is Karina and she is in her 20's (making her the oldest out of her and her brothers)

Despite being constantly on an adventure, writing or having a breakdown, Felix still makes time for his kids and will even use his sick days (which is rare because he is essentially always working even when sick), to just have fun with and take care of his kids

Felix usually hides his injuries or illnesses from others (especially Oswald or his friends and family) because he doesn't want to be a burden and he doesn't want to give Oswald flashbacks to his dead wife

(It'll be especially bad when Felix catches the "soul-less sickness")

It's either that or he's had it since he was born

The Furrgeson family would be considered the Madrigal's of "the bad side of town"

Meaning they're very famous, traumatized and the economic backbone (Bruno hires alot of of people to either join the mob or the casino he owns)

Betty Boop is absolutely a black woman, she was based off of Esther Jones and in the original cartoons, she was black but they white-washed her to hell

Oswald will have flashbacks but he will make sure to take care of him (not that he didn't take care of Ortensia or Felix before this, I mean he did and he felt like he had to)

Toons aren't necessarily immortal but they do live longer (or have a longer life span) than humans

So Felix is 35 while still being a teen in the 90's (during "The Twisted Tales of Felix the Cat")

Bendy is a nickname that everyone uses, Benjamin is only used by Boris

(Their last name is Drew btw)

Cuphead and Mugman's last name is Collings

Felix is writing about the quest they all went on and included the others' point of views (they each wrote about what they experienced, mostly the start of the quest and when they were separated since different shit happened to each of them)

The book also includes pictures of some of the locations they went to (like all of Felix's books do) as well as some of the map's history

It absolutely includes what the questers were doing before and how they joined the quest, Bendy also talks about having the inkness

The prologue is literally just the history of the machine, map and inkness

Oswald has caught up on his reading and is now reading "The Oracle's Curse" which will send him into a panic

Remember when I said that Felix writes notes in the margins, Felix will write down the fact that they have to clearly state whose POV it is every time the POV changes

Felix wrote the text conversations he had with his mom into the book (they were talking about the quest, how Lillian was doing and how Felix is going to save her)

After the quest, Cuphead and Mugman start working at Hell's Casino (which ties the qftim!universe with the casino cups!universe)

It probably makes more sense to go the other way, meaning casino! leads to quest! (Yeah let's go with that, casino! will be a prequel of some kind)

So instead of working there after the quest, they worked there before and kinda quit to join the quest and look for work closer to home and away from Blackhat (who is their father in the original qftim!comic)

This will be hard considering how different the guys act in that universe

I'm just saying that the transition from the crazy and seemingly uncaring Cuphead going to this greedy troublemaker and this happy and "go with the flow" Mugman going to the smart and older brother is going to be difficult to get right, especially since the designs and voice actors will be different (or maybe Phantom Productions will just change the designs, who knows?)

They end up helping Felix get his soul back as a thanks for him saving their asses (and the world at that point), after that he gives them a spot on his team (they're basically his bodyguards whenever he has to do interviews or do anything public)

Zal and Cain were bargained with by their parents some 11-ish centuries and 18 years ago

They were given to the devil who gave Zal access to all of the knowledge in the world and who cursed her (anything she says about her visions comes true)

I don't know what Cain would've gotten (power-wise)

They both have the standard demon powers but Zaleria has extra (?) powers

Bendy helps Felix fix/make gadgets for his adventures and Boris starts working for Mickey and his crew (he went back, Mickey made the same offer and since the quest was over and he didn't have anything else to do, he accepted it this time)

Felix is making sure he gives the rest of the questers a good share of the profits he gets from selling copies of "The Quest for the Ink Machine"

The questers are only now finding out about Felix's prosthetic leg (he never talked about it and he covered it up so they couldn't see it)

He probably lost his leg when he went to find the cartoon cat (yes the Trevor Henderson cartoon cat)

It's kinda an urban legend that Felix wanted to prove was real (he also wanted to find out it's origins and how it came to the "real" world)

The song "toon catastrophes" serves as a warning/folk song about it

There was a news camera man named Collin with him so he had someone to patch it up and get him to safety

He was also the one who called the ambulance

Felix's old professor was also there (he was also trying to prove it's existence)

Felix's family (except Bruno of course), Sheba, Oswald and the rest of the questers were absolutely afraid while watching the news (yes it was filmed)

Bendy helped make a prosthetic leg but he didn't know he was making Felix's prosthetic leg

Lilian absolutely lost it when she found out that it had to be amputated (Jack and Laila had to hold her back from attacking a doctor)

Oswald and Sheba also almost threw hands at a doctor when they found out

The professor visited him and gave him this book about this Calix Animi thing ("casino cups" fans will know what I'm talking about)

He also gave him this amulet that will protect him on future adventures (he is still cursed and ill though)

The next adventure is trying to find the cure for the soul-less sickness

(I don't think there even is a cure to be honest but that doesn't mean he won't try)

The Inkwell Isles are the rich towns, Toon Town is middle class and Solitude Square is the lower class of Aurora County (where everything takes place)

#my ocs #quest for the ink machine #bendy and boris the quest for the ink machine #quest for the ink machine felix #quest for the ink machine boris #casino cups au

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xhanisai · 3 years

Text

AU where the current holders of the miraculous have dreams about the previous holders

- They only dream about the holders before them- not the holders before the previous ones (for example, say Laila is the current holder of the butterfly and the holder before her was Maya. The holder before Maya was Ali. Laila will only dream about Maya whilst Maya have dreamt about Ali).

- The dreams are in the POV of the previous holders; you would only see things that are happening through their eyes and have no control over their bodies. You will also feel the same things the holders are feeling. The dreams are only possible if the predecessor before the current holder has passed away.

- The last holders of the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculouses were Bridgette Zhōu and Felix Gray (The PV predecessors of Marinette and Adrien). They were born in England and fought and died during the end of the second world war in 1945.

- Bridgette went by as Ladybird whilst Felix went by as Black Cat. They were sixteen when they received their miraculouses by Maître Fu.

- So Marinette, ever since gaining the earrings, would dream about Bridgette and the events that unfolded during her time. Adrien would dream about Felix on the other hand.

- At first, both were confused and horrified by this, especially after having to witness the brutal battles and war in first person and not having the power to help the way they want. They wouldn’t dare to mention this to each other in the beginning, unsure on how to approach the subject and completely traumatised too.

- They are quick to mature, especially in their civilian lives. Alya has noted that Marinette often wears a distant, sad look on her face, as if she’s weighed down by the burdens of the world.

- Nino was also quick to realise the tired yet determined gaze that Adrien wore, as if he was burning with the desire to protect everything he treasures as well as grieving for the things he’s lost. Though, the boy is an excellent actor and it’s really hard to see him unless you’re Nino.

- Since Marinette is far too distracted with coming up with plans and connecting dots to find out who le Papillon was, she’s not able to see how deep the changes were within Adrien, mainly focused on protecting her loved ones, especially her Chat Noir.

- Adrien on the other hand keeps a constant close observation on Marinette. She’s one of the few people out there that he really likes and cherishes so seeing her becoming more distant and tired and sad also upsets him.

- He starts to suspect about Ladybug’s civilian identity, especially after Plagg noting that he’s fallen for Marinette and LB for the umpteenth time.

- Marinette is also in love with both Adrien and Chat Noir (though she doesn’t like to admit the latter). She doesn’t make any attempts on romancing because she fears that it would be taken advantage of by le Papillon one way or another.

- Chat Noir is only a little flirty with Ladybug, also held back from the past holders and the current villain from fully attempting to romance her. Adrien is still soft and sweet with Marinette, always making sure she’s relaxed in his presence (Though, strangers can see that the feelings between ladynoir and adrinette are mutual).

- Both Adrien and Marinette love to spoil their kwamis with all the sweets and cheese the little Gods desire. The duo couldn’t fathom the guilt and trauma from their predecessors so how were Tikki and Plagg dealing with all the lives of their past holders?

- The bond between Tikki and Marinette and the bond between Plagg and Adrien is super, super strong.

- What finally causes Ladybug and Chat Noir to snap and communicate with each other regarding the dreams is when they finally dreamt about Bridgette’s and Felix’s last moments. These moments were the most haunting and painful out of them all.

Bridgette laid in a distraught Felix’s arms, a fatal wound in her chest, an ugly crimson growing on her clothes, yet a soft, subtle smile rested on her lips. With all her energy, she mustered up the strength to cup the sobbing boy’s cheek, as if Big Ben wasn’t being bombed to smithereens behind them and as if they weren’t surrounded by walls of deadly fire.

“Please...don’t close your eyes...don’t leave me...you’re going to be okay,” Felix choked, leaning into her touch which only grew terrifyingly colder and colder. He has to save her...he has to!

“D-Don’t cry, my sweet love,” Bridgette attempted to grin further and cooed at her lover, blind to Tikki’s vice grip on her blood stained school uniform and Plagg’s gape of horror. “I...I need you to run, Felix. Please-”

“What!? Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not leaving you! Not now, not ever!” He held her closer to him, tears cascading down his usually stoic face and mind scrambling for a plan. “I’ll save you, like always! And no one will dare to hurt you again-”

“Please...you’re already hurt. Please, live for me...”

“Bridgette...there’s no point in living if you’re not there with me, and that’s final!”

- Unfortunately, the duo met their demise from a direct bomb. Fu and Marianne had no choice but to take the miraculouses off their corpses as they were on the run, no time to mourn for the poor teens.

- Because of this dream, Chat has vowed to protect his Lady, no matter what, to ensure that she never has to go through the same pain as Bridgette (and also so he never has to mourn for another woman he’s loved with his everything).

- Ladybug has also vowed to ensure that they would never get into a situation like that, ever. The last thing she ever wants is for her partner to go through that pain.

- Sometimes, Marinette would find herself clutching her chest, as if she’s been shot, only to realise that they’re phantom pains from Bridgette’s fatal wounds and battle scars. Sometimes, the pain is enough to make her blackout.

- Similarly, this happens to Adrien too. Especially since Black Cat often got hurt during the war when fighting against the opposition.

- Both Marinette and Adrien have seen this happen to each other, not only as civilians but as their hero identities as well. They’re both 100% certain of their suspicions regarding the identities but are yet to address it.

- They get into arguments when Chat keeps on sacrificing himself. Both of them wanting to protect each other so badly, it hurts. The horrors of their predecessors’ lives and failures branded into their souls.

“You are the most important one out of us both! You can bring everything back to normal! Of course it makes sense for me to take that hit for you-”

“We are a team! I can’t do this without you and you know how much I hate seeing you die before my eyes over and over again!”

“But you bring me back every time-”

“That doesn’t stop it from hurting, you stupid cat! How would you feel if the person you love the most kept dying in front of you!?”

- After accidentally blurting out her confession, Ladybug attempts to run away, only for Chat Noir to hold her back by the hand. He then gently hugs her from behind, face hidden on the crook of her neck.

“I do know how it feels, Marinette. I do...” Chat held onto her tighter when she gasped, waiting until she relaxed before he carried on. “Every time I dream about that night, I feel Felix’s pain as his Lady died in his arms. I feel his guilt, his self-hatred, his grief, his heartbreak...everything.”

Lifting his head, Noir turned Ladybug around, his frown deepening from the tears that ran down her cheeks. He then brought his lips to one of her eyes, kissing away the tears with a softness that would rival even a mother’s touch to a new-born’s skin.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way...I love you so much that I can’t bear to see you die, ever,”

- From then on, they come to a compromise that they’d work as hard as possible to keep either of them from dying for each other.

- It’s hard and difficult but now that they have each other in their civilian lives, as well as letting Alya, Nino and Marinette’s parents into the secrets, the burdens eased. Fu allowed them to do this, knowing that the burden is too much for a singular person to handle on their own. Together they all became one excellent support system.

- Thankfully, there are pleasant dreams from Felix’s and Bridgette’s lives as well. Such as: first time meeting, ballroom dancing, walking in the gardens, etc.

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crows-and-crumbs · 3 years

Note

Aftg headcanon: Jean always thought he wasnt an affectionate person until he was with the trojans for a while (also bonus: him growing out his hair and Jeremy braiding it for him)

So this ended up longer than anticipated, but I loved the idea so much I couldn’t not do it! Anyways thank you so much for this golden nugget!

Tw: panic attack, mentions of past abuse

I swear it’s angst with a happy ending! These boys deserve all the happiness!

———————————————————————

Jean was panicking. Somewhere between fleeing the Nest and joining the Trojans, he had lost track of his job it would seem. He had gotten sloppy, and now he was gonna pay for it.

Jeremy had been nothing but kind until now, had never even raised his voice, no matter how frustrating Jean must have been to work with for the past couple of months.

But everyone had their limits, and this had to be it.

He could chop it off himself, there were scissors in the kitchen, Jeremy wouldn’t even have to notice.

Besides the fact that he had been looking at Jean for the past 6 months, and hadn’t said a thing. Maybe he didn’t mind? Unlikely.

Long hair was for people who wanted to loose, which was why all of the Ravens hand their hair cropped short. It meant that if you were in a fight, the other person had less leverage. In a game it didn’t get everywhere, raising the chance of winning significantly.

Jeremy should know that, which meant this had all been one big test. Of what? Jean’s investment in the game? Was this some sort of trail that Jean had horribly failed at?

His breath sped up and he gripped the sink so tightly his knuckles turned white.

What would Jeremy do? Would he let him cut it? Force him to cut it? Would be punished?

Laila and Alvarez had their hair long, maybe it really wasn’t a big deal? His therapist had told him that he spiraled in situations like this, maybe that was all it was?

“Jean?” The voice from the other side of the door was slightly muffled, but Jean recognized it immediately “Jean are you alright?” Jeremy.

Jean couldn’t answer, he was frozen to the spot right there by the sink, slowly dying. That’s what his brain seemed to be working in overdrive to convince him of at least, he probably wasn’t actually dying.

“Jean?” This time the voice grew more strained, followed by a series of knocks on the bathroom door. “Jean tell me you’re okay or to fuck off or I’m coming in.”

It wasn’t a threat, Jean knew it wasn’t, be he also knew that this would have consequences.

Sometimes, Riko would be less mad if Jean came to him. Maybe it was the same with Jeremy? Either way there was no more hiding, it was either or, and Jean didn’t feel like having to get someone in here to fix the bathroom door.

Instead he forced his body into motion, doing what he did best when Riko was mad, turned on autopilot and let whatever happened, happen.

His hand was still shaking when he unlocked the door and opened it, coming face to face with his team captain.

“Shit” Jeremy was right in front of him, but his voice sounded miles away “Jean, listen to me okay? You’re fine, whatever’s happening we’ll figure it out, I promise” confusion spread like a wildfire through the Frenchman.

Daring to look up through the stands of hair that had fallen in his face, he saw Jeremy standing a bit away from him.

He looked like a lost puppy, hands slightly raised uncertain what to to with them, face... worried?

Was he really gonna force Jean to say it?

“I’m sorry” Jean’s voice sound breathless “I didn’t notice” frantically be began searching for the right thing to say. Maybe he could use Jeremy’s uncertainty to his advantage?

“Jean, what-“ Jeremy began, but shut up when Jean flinched back.

“The hair, I’ll cut it I promise! I didn’t notice, please just don’t-” Jean backed into the bathroom, only stopping when he hit the sink.

He dared another look at Jeremy, who seemed to have gained some sort of understanding judging by the murderous look in his eyes.

There it was, relief filled Jean, finally something he could understand.

Unfortunately, the look was replaced rather quickly with that damn worried eyebrow knit that Jeremy did whenever Jean talked about Riko or the Nest.

“Jean, listen you need to breathe okay? I’m not angry with you, but before we talk you need to calm down okay?” His team captain took a step inside the bathroom, but Jean couldn’t back up any further.

Actually, it would seem that the ability to stand had been robbed from him again.

His legs felt like jelly, and gravity forced him to the ground rather easily, back pressed against the bathtub.

“Jean, I need you to hold your breath for me” Jeremy said, softly, taking seating at the opposite wall.

Jean did as he was told, he always did as he was fucking told this wasn’t fair.

“And breathe out” His captain’s voice was so soothing as he guided Jean through the breathing exercises that he almost forgot he had made a mistake at all.

Silence fell over them, as they sat there, waiting for the aftershocks to run their course.

Jean found the anticipation almost radiating off of him, he was so close to start begging Jeremy to do something, anything, just please make the silence go away.

He forced down a flinch when he felt a socked foot touch his own.

“You don’t have to cut your hair Jean” Jeremy’s voice still held that soothing tone that melted all tension from Jean’s bones.

Touch had been something he feared all his life, but for some reason, this didn’t make him wanna claw his skin off.

Fucking pathetic.

“Play is more efficient with short hair sir” Jean tried desperately to put his walls back up, but the way his voice shook betrayed him “I shouldn’t have let it get to this.”

“Do you like it long?” The question came as a surprise and Jean snapped his head up to look at Jeremy.

“What?” He gasped is disbelief. What the hell was going on?

“I asked, do you like it long?” Jeremy repeated, not moving his foot from Jean’s “because then you don’t have to cut it”

“But the game-“ Jean began protesting, frustrated with the captain’s willingness to risk loosing over something so stupid. He didn’t get to finish that sentence though.

“Can be played with long hair” Jeremy cut him off, smiling “Laura and Alvarez does it, and we’ve won plenty!”

Jean was dumbfounded, starting at Jeremy as if he had grown a second head.

“Actually” Jeremy stood up and reached his hand down for Jean to take “I have a solution if you don’t want it to get in the way?”

Maybe it was the shock, maybe it was his naive mind, but no matter what made him accept Jeremy’s hand didn’t expect what happened next.

Jeremy’s fingers were soft, touch feather light as he worked the through Jean’s hair, treating it like it was royal silk.

“I have three older sisters” Jeremy began explaining, to fill the silence “I saw them do it was wanted them to show me, not Alvarez won’t let anyone else braid her hair before a game.” He chuckled softly, and Jean felt the ghost of a smile tingle at his mouth when the thought of tiny Jeremy braiding his sisters hair.

“You’re good at it” Jean’s voice was still rough, but Jeremy’s was soft just like his hands, and Jean could do nothing against the urge to lean into that touch. Even if this was a trap, it would be worth it.

“Jean?” Jeremy brought him out of his little thought stream “it’s finished go take a look.”

His hair was not nearly long enough for a braid like Alvarez, but it still reached down between his shoulders. His hair had grown back thicker after the Nest, and he was surprised with how... nice it looked.

Carefully he let his hand run over the hair before turning back to Jeremy.

“See? Now you can do the whole Elite-Exy thing” Jeremy smiled brightly, and for the first time in years, Jean didn’t fear a catch if he smiled back.

#Jean and Jeremy #aftg fandom #aftg fanfic #aftg #jeremy knox #jean moreau #jerejean #fanfic #my writing #I loved doing this so much

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poodlejoonas · 3 years

Note

🖊 Hanna

(no need to say that I'm dying with all your au headcannons🥺)

💞💞 (Another essay since she hasn't been introduced yet either.)

Hanna actually got to know the rest of the group long before she started dating Aleksi. The first one she became friends with was Riina, when they met at community knitting club. She joined the group as an "unofficial" member before Noah was born, during the Laila fiasco, when she didn't know Aleksi but she knew he deserved better. Well, the girls thought she was the better he deserved, and poor Riina nearly went gray trying to set them up on a date. She has a Master's degree in child psychology with a focus on reforming education policy for neurodivergent children. She has an entire blog dedicated to calling out harmful practices and "mommy bloggers" who spread misinformation about autism, and she has (on more than one occasion) encouraged Milli to write a book to challenge what's already out there.

Despite working with children in her career, she's not the best with trying to handle babies for long periods of time. She's just never been around them much and small babies worry her. But she's perfect for kids at the toddler age and above. The band kids who were already there when she became friends with the group adore her, especially Enkka when she gladly gave him a hug the first time he asked. She was a little concerned that she wouldn't fit in well with a group of moms if she herself never had kids, but they told her that they loved her regardless of that because she's a kind person and wonderful friend. Besides, the kids could always use one more auntie, and she was just a natural from the beginning with them.

Aleksi spent the first few years of Noah's life being single because he didn't want to start a relationship that would just end soon and destroy Noah's trust in strangers. Likewise, Hanna wasn't ready to date after she had been cheated on in her last relationship. Riina patiently waited for the right time to push them together and was stoked when she found out they instantly clicked. Hanna didn't mind Aleksi's past at all or the fact that he already had a kid. She was patient with Noah, letting him decide when he was ready to warm up to her. Aleksi knew she was the one on the day Noah finally called her his mom, knowing that if she could gain his trust, there was no way he was letting her go. They had a small, cozy wedding at their summer home for Noah to be comfortable at the event, and they took a family vacation instead of a honeymoon. Hanna was perfectly content with Aleksi's decision to not have anymore kids, instead focusing his love and attention on Noah, because Noah's her son too (she refuses to call him her step-son) and their family is already complete.

Hanna is a doll and was a breath of fresh air from the beginning. She was an amazing part of Aleksi's healing from his relationship with Laila and everyone (the band and girls alike) love her for that.

#ask #dad!blind channel #dad!aleksi #oc: hanna kaunisvesi

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the-queen-of-exy · 4 years

Text

I've got a fuck ton of Jerejean headcanons and I need to RANT

Jeremy lovessss flowers

Very very much

There's a picnic to welcome the freshman to USC

And Jean, Jeremy, Alvarez, and Laila are all hanging out

And Laila jokes that Jean needs to be a bit more colorful

And Jeremy is like I got it!

And he just picks a flower and tucks it behind his ear

And then he goes into gay panic mode

Meanwhile Jean is just like FUCK IM GAY

Also Jeremy is very allergic to flowers

Pollen is not his friend

Jeremy also has glasses

Which Jean discovered in Gay Panic Moment #1

Bc apparently Jeremy trades off between contacts and glasses

And my god if he isn't adorable with his glasses on

He goes from Super Hot Sunshine Jock

To Super Hot Sunshine Jock But Nerdier

And Jean is just like welp I'm screwed

Jean was 100% an art person

Poetry, writing, painting, sketching, you name it

Somehow this bitch manages to be good at all of them

(He says it's bc he's French but Jeremy calls bullshit)

But he is fuck awesome at photography

Which the team discovers on one group outing or another

Laila and Alvarez they get Jeremy to take a picture of them

And then they look over the picture

And Jean is like Christ you suck

So Jeremy is just like well you do it then

So he does

And omg it's A M A Z I N G

the angle is perfect

And the lighting????

Flawless

And Jeremy is just like do you have a secret photography gift you've been holding out on us about

And Jean is like um no

I literally had no time for hobbies at Edgar Allen

Which gives Jeremy the idea to buy him a camera for his birthday

During his first week at USC Jeremy spends a shit ton of time trying to find things for Jean to do

And he's like why don't you read or something

And Jean is like for fun???

Jeremy is just like my god what did they do to you at Edgar Allen??

The return look he receives is very dark

He doesn't ask again for a long time

But he does shove a few books at Jean

Fight me Jean Moreau is a Harry Potter nerd

Like actually

he can't get over the fact that something so fucking unrealistic is so popular

Riko would NEVER let him read something like that

But what he reallllyyy likes is psychology and philosophy

Which surprises the heck out of Jeremy

Who happens to have a shit ton of both types of books

He didn't think Jean would be into that kind of stuff

And now all of a sudden he has a buddy he can book talk with

I mean sure there are others on the team

But, like, Jean's different somehow

Y'know?

And sometimes he'll catch Jean just kinda staring at him as he rambles on

And then he just kinda jumps and tries to play it off like he was looking at a bird or something

It's (cute) funny

Both are coffee people

Only difference is that Jean has standards

Jeremy doesn't give a shit where it's from so long as it has caffeine

Sooo Jean is in charge of coffee at their dorm

Otherwise Jeremy would "poison him with his bean water"

Last one, I promise

The first time Jeremy heard him speak French how brain short circuited

Tall angsty boi speaking I'm rapid fire french??

Only pausing to take large gulps of air bc they just finished a game and he's dying??

Ngl it's realllyyyy hot

And Jean is like what?? Why are you staring at me like that??

And Jeremy is just like: you speak the French…

And Jean just kinda looks at him like: Bitch I AM THE FRENCH

Fin.

#jerejean headcanon #jerejean headcanons #jerejan #jeremy knox #jean moreau #laila dermott #alvarez #all for the game #aftg headcanon #aftg fandom #aftg #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king's men #i reallllyyy needed to rant

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doubleattitude · 3 years

Text

24/7 Dance Convention, Atlanta, GA: RESULTS

High Scores by Age:

Sidekick Solo

1st: Charlotte Brayman-’Wonderful World’

2nd: Emersyn Lawson-’Beautiful Things’

2nd: Khylie Wilkerson-’Proud Mary’

3rd: Audrey Mikkelson-’Shake the Room’

4th: Brenna Ferrell-’Showstopper’

Mini Solo

1st: Mia Clark-’Dem Beats’

1st: Carrigan Paylor-’Orange Colored Sky’

2nd: Elizabeth Scott Lanier-’Bitter Earth’

2nd: Kaylee Schwamb-’See Me Now’

3rd: Ashley Otano-’Dark Matter’

3rd: AnaKate Danner-’Malfunction’

3rd: Ella Barnes-’Nobody’s Watching’

3rd: Layla Karadchy-’Tomorrow’

4th: Jasmine Pando-’Amelia’

4th: Georgia Beth Peters-’Come Together’

4th: Allie Plott-’Fire’

4th: Savy Luetchtefeld-’Sound of Silence’

5th: Lauren Fenton-’Boogie Shoes’

5th: Cora Wunder-’Faith’

5th: Rudie Bolton-’Still Don’t Know My Name’

6th: Isabella Shortridge-’In This Shirt’

7th: Bella Smith-’Against The Music’

7th: Sami Nix-’Bridges’

7th: Rose Mangan-’Make Someone Happy’

7th: Ruby Wilkes Petty-’Once Upon Another Time’

8th: Alessandra Gauger-’Morning’

9th: Kenzie Wagoner-’Recharge’

9th: Laila Taylor-’Riot Rhythm’

10th: Belle Brining-’Ain’t to proud to beg’

10th: Malea Moore-’Big Time’

10th: Gabi Brown-’Brown Skin Girl’

10th: Sydney Lawrence-’Everybody Wants To Rule the World’

10th: Lyrah Atkins-’Keep It Moving’

10th: Vivian Liu-’Opportunity’

10th: Channing Jones-’Tight Rope’

Junior Solo

1st: Giselle Gandarilla-’All Human Beings’

2nd: Nicholas Moreno-’Blue Lips’

2nd: Emme James Anderson-’Resume’

3rd: Mia Doyle-’Designated Harmony’

3rd: Brinkley Pittman-’Gravity’

3rd: Belle Richardson-’Seven Birds’

3rd: Leila Winker-’Takt’

4th: Addison Bradley-’Dynamite’

4th: Maddie Shaw-’Final Goodbye’

4th: Caroline Powell-’How Rare’

4th: McGowan Howell-’Resurface’

4th: Maely Weaver-’Staggered In a Configuration’

4th: Cadence Lyles-’Warrior Queen’

5th: Amanda Fenton-’Devil In Disguise’

5th: Emma Martin-’Dreams’

5th: Leah Midgett-’Mirror Mirror’

5th: Morgan Belyeu-’Older’

5th: Vanessa Johnson-’Over The Rainbow’

6th: Kaden Brown-’Resolution’

7th: Mollie Mikkelson-’Goodbye Yellow Brick Road’

7th: Gracie Elder-’No More Tears’

7th: Sloane Dawson-’TEA’

7th: Scarlett Liu-’Unaccompanied’

7th: Sydney Martin-’Vibeology’

8th: Isabella Burdo-’Dance, Dance, Dance’

8th: Estella Guzman-’No Contamination’

8th: Alora Freeman-’Sing to the Moon’

9th: Lila Jane Meadows-’Friend Like Me’

9th: Ever Martin-’Long Time Traveler’

9th: Ensley King-’Ruby Blue’

9th: Gracie Hawkins-’Smokestacks’

10th: MacKenzie Meissner-’Be Strong’

10th: Kinsleigh Gullette-’Despicable’

10th: Pierce Bevans-’Float’

10th: Stella Adamson-’Gamzatti Variation’

10th: Sophia Bell-’Waving Through A Window’

10th: Taylor Dillard-’Way Down We Go’

Teen Solo

1st: Brady Farrar-’Once More’

2nd: Oliver Keane-’Electric Pulse’

2nd: Georgia Greene-’Warning’

3rd: Preslie Rosamond-’Possibly Maybe’

3rd: Sophie Garcia-’Warrior’

4th: Emma Vaughan-’Tango’

5th: Camille Pepper-’1,000 Faces’

5th: Savannah Manning-’Line Thickness’

6th: Emery Sousley-’Birds of Paradise’

6th: Addy Beckham-’Fame’

6th: Natalie Bumgarner-’Lullaby’

6th: Angelina Brennan-’Woman’

7th: Loren Puchalski-’All The Time’

7th: Nika Nosova-’Epiphany’

7th: Sydney Jones-’Raise Your Voice’

7th: Jackson Smoak-’The Longest Time’

8th: Abigail McKinney-’Shout’

8th: Haley Midgett-’Smile to Me’

8th: Callaghan Johnson-Untitled’

9th: Hadley Snell-’Like This’

10th: Emmy Fuller-’Be Be Your Love’

10th: Tierney Denny-Lybbert-’Lean Back’

10th: Sophie Hunsicker-’Take Flight’

10th: Kayleigh Atterton-’Wild Is The Wind’

Senior Solo

1st: Xavier logan-’Self Memoria’

2nd: Thiago Pacheco-’I’m Naturally Platinum’

3rd: Lily Sledge-’My One and Only’

3rd: Kayleigh Everhart-’Thunderstruck’

4th: Grace Robinson-’Always;

4th: Wysdem Ceaser-’Blades’

4th: Niya Smith-’Down2Ride’

4th: Seth Gibson-’Identity’

5th: Chloe Jeffcoat-’As For The Fall’

5th: Dai Boyd-’Try A Little Tenderness’

6th: Alexandra Jinglov-’Action Reaction’

6th: Maika Takemoto-’Changes’

6th: Bella Mills-’Everywhere, Still’

6th: Shaeleigh Person-’Mine’

6th: Christian Butts-’Ohm Sweet Ohm’

6th: Brittany Willard-’Unchained Melody’

6th: Javon Moore-’Visions’

7th: Tristin Edsel-’And So It Goes’

7th: Belle Mason-’Drones’

7th: Saleya James-’Fix You’

7th: Lily Thompson-’Foolish Games’

7th: Savannah Folding-’Heart Shaped Birthmark’

7th: Kirsten Brown-’Trainwreck’

7th: Ella Samellas-’Without You’

8th: CJ Parker-’A Letter From France’

8th: Bailey Cerio-’Free Falling’

8th: Mallory McCormick-’Rose’

8th: Chloe Barr-’Still Light’

8th: Jalen Scriven-’TIME’

9th: Jasmyn Hopper-’Another Lifetime’

9th: Raven Rutledge-’A Pale’

9th: Sydney Scott-’Forsaken’

9th: Katelyn Midgett-’Georgia’

9th: Morgen Watkins-’Gonna Love Me’

9th: Ryin Corcoran-’Red Dust’

9th: Sophie Hooker-’We’ll Meet Again’

9th: Hannah Rivers-’Will You Ever Return’

10th: Blair Southerland-’Desperation’

10th: Izzie Bringle-’Hush’

Sidekick Duo/Trio

1st: West Main Studios-’Colors Of the Wind’

2nd: To The Pointe-’Wildside’

Mini Duo/Trio

1st: Carolina Collective Dance-’It’s Quiet Uptown’

2nd: Gretchen Greene School of Dance-’Loves Me Like A Rock’

3rd: Carolina Collective Dance-’Proud’

3rd: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’To Build A Home’

Junior Duo/Trio

1st: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Even The Sun’

2nd: Milele Academy-’Fiyah Speak’

3rd: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Nothing We Can Do’

Teen Duo/Trio

1st: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Let Me Follow’

2nd: Milele Academy-’Down We Go’

2nd: The Royal Dance Academy-’Grieving’

3rd: Great Gig Dance Co-’Canon In D’

Senior Duo/Trio

1st: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Addictive’

1st: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Verlust’

2nd: Milele Academy-’Darkest Hour’

3rd: Studio 413-’Black Flies’

Sidekick Group

1st: Studio Powers-’Big Love, Small Moments’

Mini Group

1st: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Daisies’

2nd: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Bones’

3rd: The Southern Strutt-’Hey Hi Hello’

3rd: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’The Moment’

3rd: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Wepa’

Junior Group

1st: The Southern Strutt-’A Young Mind’s Thoughts’

1st: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Made of Stone’

1st: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’The Swan’

2nd: Studio Powers-’Cry Me A River’

3rd: Milele Academy-’Save a Horse’

Teen Group

1st: Milele Academy-’Close Up’

1st: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Slack Jaw’

1st: Studio 413-’Social Media Overload’

1st: Gretchen Greene School of Dance-’Wooden Hymnal In C’

2nd: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’He’s A Dream’

3rd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Shaken Lung’

Senior Group

1st: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’I’m Delighted’

2nd: Rhythm Dance Center-’What A Girl Wants’

3rd: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Dying of Thirst’

Sidekick Line

1st: The Southern Strutt-’Mr Piano Man’

1st: The Southern Strutt-’Rainbow Brite’

2nd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Besties’

3rd: The Southern Strutt-’Dump Him’

3rd: The Southern Strutt-’Reflections’

Mini Line

1st: The Southern Strutt-’Fergalicious’

2nd: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Brown Skin Girl’

2nd: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Found A Good One’

3rd: The Southern Strutt-’As Good As It Gets’

3rd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Back At It’

Junior Line

1st: The Southern Strutt-’This Place About to Blow’

2nd: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Dance Apocalyptic’

2nd: The Southern Strutt-’I Will Leave The Light On’

3rd: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Genesis’

3rd: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Kill The Lights’

Teen Line

1st: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Lay Them Before Me’

2nd: Studio 413-’Hold On Tight’

3rd: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Midnight Street’

Senior Line

1st: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Sunny Side of the Street’

2nd: The Southern Strutt-’Charlie Boy’

2nd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Deep Fried Flavor’

2nd: Great Gig Dance Co-’I’d Love to Change The World’

2nd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Layla’

2nd: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Matter’

3rd: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Full Bloom’

3rd: Studio 413-’Rumors’

Sidekick Extended Line

1st: The Southern Strutt-’Flying Solo’

Mini Extended Line

1st: Rhythm Dance Center-’Fly Kicks’

2nd: The Southern Strutt-’Wonderland’

3rd: Rhythm Dance Center-’The Happy Disco Show’

3rd: The Southern Strutt-’Yacht Club Cuties’

Junior Extended Line

1st: Rhythm Dance Center-’Foot On The Gas’

2nd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Walk It Out’

3rd: Studio 413-’Girl Boss’

Teen Extended Line

1st: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Work’

2nd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Earthquake’

2nd: The Southern Strutt-’The Wave’

3rd: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Angels’

3rd: The Southern Strutt-’XR2′

Senior Extended Line

1st: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’The Reception’

2nd: The Southern Strutt-’Here Comes The Boom’

Sidekick Production

1st: The Southern Strutt-’Chewy Chewy’

Mini Production

1st: The Southern Strutt-’Yacht Club Cuties’

Junior Production

1st: Rhythm Dance Center-’Ski-A-Rhythmdale’

2nd: Studio 413-’Electricity’

Teen Production

1st: exonerated

2nd: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Southern Hospitality’

3rd: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Bay 2 the A’

High Scores by Performance Division:

Sidekick Jazz

1st: The Southern Strutt-’Chewy Chewy’ 2nd: The Southern Strutt-’Rainbow Brite’ 3rd: The Southern Strutt-’Dump Him’

Sidekick Hip-Hop

1st: Rhythm Dance Center-’Besties’

Sidekick Tap

1st: The Southern Strutt-’Mr Piano Man’ 2nd: The Southern Strutt-’ABC’ 3rd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Shout’

Sidekick Contemporary

1st: The Southern Strutt-’Flying Solo’

Sidekick Lyrical

1st: The Southern Strutt-’Reflections’ 2nd: Studio Powers-’Big Love, Small Moments’

Mini Jazz

1st: The Southern Strutt-’Fergalicious’ 2nd: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Brown Skin Girl’ 3rd: Rhythm Dance Center-’The Happy Disco Show’

Mini Ballet

1st: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Concerto In D’

Mini Hip-Hop

1st: Rhythm Dance Center-’Fly Kicks’ 2nd: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Found A Good One’ 3rd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Back At It’

Mini Tap

1st: The Southern Strutt-’As Good As It Gets’ 2nd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Love Shack’ 3rd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Jitterbug’

Mini Contemporary

1st: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Daisies’ 2nd: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Bones’ 3rd: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’The Moment’

Mini Lyrical

1st: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’3000 Miles’ 2nd: The Southern Strutt-’Fly Me To The Moon’ 3rd: Studio 413-’Helium’

Mini Musical Theatre

1st: The Southern Strutt-’Wonderland’ 2nd: The Southern Strutt-’Yacht Club Cuties’ 3rd: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Little Shop of Horrors’

Junior Jazz

1st: The Southern Strutt-’This Place About to Blow’ 2nd: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Dance Apocalyptic’ 2nd: Studio 413-’Electricity’ 3rd: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Kill The Lights’ 3rd: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Genesis’

Junior Ballet

1st: Rhythm Dance Center-’Violin Fantastique’

Junior Hip-Hop

1st: Rhythm Dance Center-’Foot On The Gas’ 2nd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Walk It Out’ 3rd: Studio 413-’Girl Boss’

Junior Tap

1st: Rhythm Dance Center-’Sussudio’ 1st: Rhythm Dance Center-’Here Comes The Sun’ 2nd: Studio 413-’Into the Night’ 3rd: Great Gig Dance Co-’Tiny Dancer’

Junior Contemporary

1st: The Southern Strutt-’I Will Leave The Light On’ 2nd: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’The Swan’ 2nd: The Southern Strutt-’A Young Mind’s Thoughts’ 3rd: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Off The Rails’

Junior Lyrical

1st: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Made of Stone’ 2nd: Gretchen Greene School of Dance-’Daisies’ 3rd: Gretchen Greene School of Dance-’Firework’

Junior Musical Theatre

1st: The Southern Strutt-’First Day Fruge’ 2nd: The Southern Strutt-’The Gospel Truth’ 3rd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Zero to Hero’

Junior Acro

1st: The WHEREHOUSE-’Day-O’

Junior Specialty

1st: Rhythm Dance Center-’Ski-A-Rhythmdale’ 2nd: Gretchen Greene School of Dance-’Grease!’

Teen Jazz

1st: The Southern Strutt-’XR2′ 1st: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’I Hope My Life’ 2nd: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Shake’ 3rd: Studio 413-’Body Language’ 3rd: The Southern Strutt-’Kick It’

Teen Hip-Hop

1st: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Work’ 2nd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Earthquake’ 2nd: The Southern Strutt-’The Wave’ 3rd: Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Southern Hospitality’

Teen Tap

1st: Rhythm Dance Center-’Rock Your Body’ 2nd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Hook’ 3rd: Gretchen Greene School of Dance-’Wooden Hymnal In C’ 3rd: Studio 413-’Gold Watch’ 3rd: The Southern Strutt-’Gold Watch’

Teen Contemporary

1st: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Exonerated’ 2nd: Studio 413-’Hold On Tight’ 3rd: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Embrace the World’

Teen Lyrical

1st: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Midnight Street’ 2nd: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Angels’ 3rd: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’This Particular Dream’

Teen Musical Theatre

1st: Rhythm Dance Center-’Groundhog Day’ 2nd: The Southern Strutt-’Beetlejuice’ 3rd: Heather Wayne’s Dance Company-’Too Darn Hot’

Teen Acro

1st: Gretchen Greene School of Dance-’Oceans’ 2nd: Studio Powers-’Area 51′

Teen Specialty

1st: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Lay Them Before Me’ 2nd: The Southern Strutt-’Book of Love’ 3rd: Gretchen Greene School of Dance-’Hip Hip Chin Chin’ 3rd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Born to Be Alive’

Senior Jazz

1st: Studio 413-’Rumors’ 2nd: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Human Nature’ 3rd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Saved By The DJ’

Senior Ballet

1st: Rhythm Dance Center-’Recomposed’

Senior Hip-Hop

1st: Rhythm Dance Center-’Deep Fried Flavor’ 2nd: The Southern Strutt-’Here Comes The Boom’ 3rd: North Georgia Dance and Music Factory-’Power’

Senior Tap

1st: Rhythm Dance Center-’What A Girl Wants’ 2nd: Great Gig Dance Co-’I’d Love to Change The World’ 2nd: Rhythm Dance Center-’Layla’ 3rd: Great Gig Dance Co-’Faith’

Senior Contemporary

1st: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’I’m Delighted’ 2nd: The Southern Strutt-’Charlie Boy’ 2nd: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Dying of Thirst’ 3rd: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Full Bloom’

Senior Lyrical

1st: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Matter’ 2nd: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Tides of Lamentation’ 3rd: Dothan School of Dance-’It’s All Coming Back to Me’

Senior Musical Theatre

1st: Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Sunny Side of the Street’ 2nd: The Southern Strutt-’Too Darn Hot’ 3rd: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Might As Well Be’

Senior Specialty

1st: Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’The Reception’

11 O’Clock:

Sidekick

Studio Powers-’DANCE’

The Southern Strutt-’Flying Solo’

Rhythm Dance Center-’Besties’

Mini

Studio 413-’Helium’

West Main Studios-’Spiders’

Milele Academy-’Move Your Body’

Studio Powers-’Iconology’

Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Bones’

Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Daisies’

Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Found A Good One’

Rhythm Dance Center-’Fly Kicks’

The Southern Strutt-’Fergalicious’

Junior

Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Dance Apocalyptic’

Studio 413-’Girl Boss’

Rhythm Dance Center-’Foot On The Gas’

The Southern Strutt-’This Place About to Blow’

Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Kill The Lights’

Milele Academy-’Missy’

Studio Powers-’Cry Me A River’

Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Made of Stone’

Teen

The Southern Strutt-’The Wave’

Gretchen Greene School of Dance-’Hip Hip Chin Chin’

Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Exonerated’

Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’Lay Them Before Me’

Oconee Youth School of Performance-’Poppin Party’

The WHEREHOUSE-’Changes’

Studio Powers-’Stand Up’

Milele Academy-’Close Up’

Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Southern Hospitality’

Studio 413-’Hold On Tight’

Rhythm Dance Center-’Earthquake’

Senior

Dothan School of Dance-’You’ll Never Walk Alone’

Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’The Reception’

Rhythm Dance Center-’What A Girl Wants’

Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Sunny Side of the Street’

The Southern Strutt-’Charlie Boy’

Great Gig Dance Co-’I’d Love to Change The World’

Studio 413-’Rumors’

Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Exile’

Milele Academy-’Get It’

Gretchen Greene School of Dance-’Bitter’

Heather Wayne’s Dance Company-’Old Skin’

Smitty’s Performing Arts Center-’Where Is The Love’

Studio Showcase:

Milele Academy-’Close Up’

West Main Studio-’E R’

Variations Dance Studio-’Through The Cracks’

Upstate Carolina Dance Center-’Exile’

The WHEREHOUSE-’Changes’

The Southern Strutt-’Charlie Boy’

Studio Powers-’Stand Up’

Studio 413-’Rumors’

Rhythm Dance Center-’Earthquake’

Oconee Youth School of Performance-’Poppin Party’

North Georgia Dance and Music Factory-’Tap Dat’

Heather Wayne’s Dance Company-’Old Skin’

Gretchen Greene School of Dance-’Hip Hip Chin Chin’

Great Gig Dance Co-’I’d Love to Change The World’

Dancemakers of Atlanta-’Exonerated’

Columbia City Jazz Conservatory-’The Reception’

#dance #2021 #24/7 #atlanta #georgia

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bayoubashsims · 4 years

Text

Naturally

Naturally is a short story about the life of a Dutch-American woman who settled in Indonesia during the early days of its independence, the legacy she carried across the ocean, and the legacy she built in her new homeland. The story reflects on the most poignant events in her long and candid life; from the circumstances that made her birth possible, her childhood in the tumultuous early twentieth century, her new life in a new nation, to the troubles of her offspring, the return to her birthplace, and her dying days. These vignettes of Eleanor Mangkoedimedjo’s life serve as a testament that much of what we are we owe to those who came before us (whether good or bad), particularly our mothers and the mothers before them, and understanding our past often means understanding our future.

Name: Eleanor Mirabelle Mangkoedimedjo Maiden Name: Schuyler Other name(s): Laila Mulyati Place and Date of Birth: Batavia, New York, August 11, 1928 Parents: Lucas T. Schuyler (Adam Sutansyah) and Ana L. Schuyler (née Lahaije); Rosminah Sutansyah Grandparents: Pieter Lahaije and Johanna Lahaije (née van der Maas); Thomas E. Schuyler and Eleanor C. Schuyler (née Thompson) Sibling(s): Coralea Schuyler and Miriam van de Plaas Spouse(s): R. Prabowo H.L. Mangkoedimedjo Children: Matilda E. Willem and Philomena K. Develsbourne

Prologue

Maastricht, the Netherlands 1932

Gerrit Beuling was a tall, thin man with a long swan’s neck and a protruding Adam’s apple. His long, auburn hair went to his shoulders, and was combed back. He trudged along the brick road in that humid summer with a wooden case under his right arm, and he carried with him a manner of expectation.

He stopped when he came to a narrow alley with a stone staircase that led to a wooden door to its left. He cautiously made his way through, up and in, passing by one grimy corridor after another. He arrived half panting at a room at the end of the corridor, covered with faded ruby-colored floral wallpaper and adorned with fine furniture. He placed his case down and took off his coat. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and took a deep breath.

“I don’t understand why you’re wearing a coat like that in such a hot day.” Said Madame Lahaije. She was perched upon a crimson chaise-lounge by the window in a severely outdated, purple buttoned up dress that seemed to betray her own words to the young painter.

“For presentation, of course. And I put a lot of my things inside my coat pockets.”

Madame Lahaije sneered. “A gentleman never puts things inside his pocket. Unless it’s money, of course.”

“Are you ready, Madame?” He asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Do you think this dress is fine?” She asked, adjusting the stiff collar of her dress.

“It’s beautiful. But what a dress to wear in such a weather.” He answered. He was happy with the ironic echo.

“For presentation.” She replied, reassuringly. “Let us adjourn to the other room, shall we?”

She rose up slowly from her seat and walked to the other room as if Gerrit wasn’t even behind her. The other room was a brightly lit, white-paneled alcove at the side of the building that faces the garden, and beyond the horizon lies the countryside. She then proceeded to sit upon a blue, velveteen chair and pointed Gerrit where to sit. Gerrit opened his case, and laid out a set of watercolor paint on a table next to a wooden easel. He placed a canvas upon it and looked at his subject.

“Am I good enough?” She asked. “Of course.”

Madame Lahaije looked at the boy sitting across her.

‘So young’, she said to herself.

She carefully combed a few strands of loose hair from her teased grey crown and adjusted her collar.

There were a few minutes of silence.

“Eh-hem.” The lady cleared her throat to break the awkwardness. “Getting impatient are we, Madame?” Asked Gerrit. “No. I understand this will not be fast work.” “Are you sure you’re comfortable in that dress?” Her eyebrows went up and her eyes squinted. “Would you rather I take it off?” Gerrit bit his lips. “My apologies.”

“You know,” she uttered, her face building up to a slight smile “the last time a man said that to me was my husband, asking me about my wedding dress on our wedding day over 50 years ago. We didn’t have a conventional wedding, you know. My family had disowned me for running off with a man twenty years my senior, and he didn’t have any family left, so it was a few friends and the servants. I remember the dress was white and was very tight. I hated being in it but I looked good in it. Pieter said to me 'Johanna, are you sure you’re comfortable in that dress?’, because he heard me gasping whilst my bridesmaids were closing up my corset. He must’ve thought I was choking or something. It was a humid day, much like this.”

Gerrit’s eyes didn’t turn from the canvas. “You must’ve looked beautiful.” “It was a hundred years ago.” “Oh, I don’t know. You’re still beautiful now.” Madame Lahaije was not one to take compliments or responded to them, but enjoyed them altogether.

“Don’t you have a girl, Gerrit? How old are you now, 27?” “28 this October. And no. I don’t have that much interest in courting girls.” “Do you like the boys, then?” She asked mockingly. Gerrit made no response.

“My daughter must be around your age now. I wonder if she’s married.”

“Don’t you keep in touch with her?”

“She hates me so. She lives in America. Ran away 5 years ago.”

“Why does she hate you?”

“Ah, who knows, schaadt. Us mothers do what instincts tell us to. At the end of the day, it’s still a stab in the dark to assume whether or not our children like us. At one point, they will hate you.”

She continued. “I know it’s a terrible thing to say, but she was an accident. I didn’t plan on having kids with Pieter, but then we did. And not long after she was born, he died, which is when I started the business. I made deals with a few men in some places. I took in homeless girls and groomed them. Of course, I am no Saint for turning them into prostitutes. But at least it provided food at the table for them and a roof over their heads and mine, ja?”

“I suppose.”

There was more silence. Madame Lahaije scratched her right eyebrow half-unsure, wondering if the painter will find it annoying that she’s moving around, but there was no response from him. She looked as stiff as a sculpture, like a purple tulip turned upside down, frozen in winter. She was in her mid-seventies then but retained the outline she had in her youth—a dark and well-pronounced outline that emphasized her bones and her heavily-lidded eyes. In her youth, she was a great beauty, though she never thought of herself that way.

Eventually she asked Gerrit ‘normal’ questions—of the weather, of recent happenings in town, and of the interesting stories that happened in her brothel, for instance, the girls who became pregnant would be sent to the abortionist, and those who choose to have the baby will be sent away. She also told him of men who trespassed the boundaries in treating the girls and how often she had to march into the bedrooms and pull them out by any of their parts and kicking them out to the streets. Gerrit nodded and gave some short responses. Madame Lahaije simply went on and on. It was just the way she talked.

“But I do miss Ana sometimes, you know.” Madame Lahaije uttered, wilting a bit. She was talking about the bad economy a few seconds ago. “How can I help it? She came out of my mangy twat and she’s the only family I have.”

“Such are the ties in blood.” Gerrit said.

Madame Lahaije turned back to concrete. “I was turned away by my own mother, left at the backdoor of an orphanage like a grocery delivery.” She said coldly. “The family that took me in, the van der Maas bunch, was more than kind. But I rebelled. I ran away with the painter and never saw them again. I was disowned. So what? I’ve been disowned the minute I crawled out of my mother. I couldn’t stand being locked up in the house.”

“But,” She added. “thanks to the education that they provided, I turned into the woman I am today. I am no idiot like the tarts I employ, who can strut but everything they hear on the right come out of their left. I keep a close eye on my accounts and I know of a great deal about literature, economy, and politics. So I am grateful, I suppose. If I weren’t a lady I’d have gone to war.”

Gerrit smiled.

“My adopted father was a timber businessman. The mother did nothing but groom her daughters, which included me, into fine ladies every single day from the minute she wakes. The brother was, oh, a handsome gentleman. He followed in his father’s footsteps. He died, however, a good six years before I fled. Of cholera.”

Her head was straight and poised, with her eyebrows way up on her forehead. “He was my first love.” She uttered, and continued. “Mother van der Maas was a strict woman, unlike her husband, who was very much at ease. She was the only sort of mother I ever had, and I was 9 when they adopted me. My need for a mother had rotted years before I met her. Such a shame, no? Nevertheless, I pleased her need for a daughter. Her real daughters, Maria and Nelia, were skittish little things. Very fragile. And so Mother van der Maas took a preference for me. Can’t imagine how she felt when I left them. Mustn’t be like what I felt when Ana left. I remember, I caught Ana leaving with a suitcase in one hand, down by the foyer. I say to her, ‘Must be so easy to leave all this behind’. Well, I thought it, but I did not say it. I simply acted as…a figure of authority, if you must, to this young girl, whom I knew I will never see again or hear from again. She said nothing and left hurriedly. “

There was a silence for a few moments.

"Ah, well.” She shrugged. “I guess I was never meant to be a mother.”

Gerrit smiled.

There was a silence for a few moments.

Gerrit suddenly rose up. “I think that’s enough for today. I’ll continue again tomorrow.”

Madame Lahaije was somehow a bit surprised at this but felt settled. “Fine.”

He draped a white cloth over the canvas and packed his things into the case.

“Same time tomorrow, then?” “Yes.” Answered Gerrit.

Gerrit approached Madame Lahaije, and gave her his hand. Not for a handshake, but for a kiss on her hand. She let him. The kiss was swift, and almost felt like a knife.

“Thank you, Gerrit.”

Gerrit smiled and walked away.

There, in the silence, Madame Lahaije looked out from the window, to the meadow just beyond the house a few miles away.

“What are you thinking?”

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

The Past

Batavia, New York - Bandung, the Dutch East Indies 1924-1945

The best thing she did was pretending that she wasn’t hurt.

Eleanor had always been a woman with such pride and stubbornness; even when she was a little girl, her mother Ana would chide her for sassing back. Her poor old mother didn’t want to be harsh on her, because her own mother was draconic to her. Ana had three children, but Eleanor, the youngest, stopped becoming her child and became her daughter when she was just six.

Oh, how Eleanor reminded her so much of her own mother. Even when Eleanor was named after her paternal grandmother, her temperament was quite similar to her maternal grandmother, a proprietress of a Maastricht brothel that Ana had abandoned out of spite at the turn of the century.

Before we go to Eleanor, we must learn of the stock that she came from; Ana was born Ana Louisa Lahaije to Pieter Lahaije and Johanna Lahaije (née van der Maas)

Just twenty-one years old back then in 1924, Ana sailed for six days from Hoek van Holland to the shores of America on a migrant ship. As far as she was concerned, she never had a mother, only a cold, leering phantom that she used to see at the other end of a dinner table. It was the prostitutes that worked in her brothel that became Ana’s mothers: Fleurtje was a great cook, Trienke taught her how to sew, Lotte gave great advice, and Madeleine sang songs with her. Johanna Lahaije only did three things for her throughout her life: she gave birth to Ana, she criticized her, and she let her leave. Johanna had caught her leaving with a suitcase at dawn and said nothing. She stood atop the staircase with her claws on the balustrade and she stood by as her daughter, like a deer caught in headlights, fled for the so-called Land of Opportunities. Of course, it was easy to assume that Johanna never loved her. Who knows, right? People tell you ‘I love you’ in different ways.

She had settled in New York and was married into a rather affluent Boer family, the Schuylers. She had married their youngest child, Lucas Schuyler. Her in-laws were the personification of Great White Hunters, who were ‘adventurers’, so to speak, along with their business ventures that took them around the world, while Lucas helped his mother at home and studied architecture in Cornell. Ana became a seamstress and found clientele in the sprawling metropolis, and gave birth to three daughters: Coralea, Miriam, and Eleanor. The Great Depression struck and though they did not suffer too much, the marriage between Lucas and Ana had cracked beyond repair from arguments regarding money to the spoiling of the children.

Lucas, envious of his father and brother’s adventures, decided to leave for the Dutch East Indies, having heard of the nation’s struggles for independence from the colonials that Lucas descended from. Ana refused to go, of course, since she did not drag herself all the way from Europe just to sail to some godforsaken land at the edge of the world. Much to her chagrin, Eleanor went along with her father. She enjoyed hearing the tales she used to hear about her grandfather and uncle, and she wanted to be an adventurer herself. They said goodbye and little Nortje was none the wiser. To the end of her days, she had always been her father’s child.

Eleanor was so proud of herself and her father. She had heard about the Emerald of the Equator from her father, a land so rich and green—filled with opportunities much heartier than the selfish aspirations of America—and thought of her future and the nation’s. One would think that a New York gal would be used to the urban ways, but even her days on her grandparents’ farm was nothing compared to the years she spent in this new land, and she fit right in with all the things other ‘expatriates’ couldn’t stand. They changed their names, too, and their religion. They settled in Bandung and became Muslims, thus Lucas and Eleanor Schuyler became Adam Sutansyah and Laila Mulyati. Mama Ana was not there to reprimand her for sassing, but instead it was Ibu Rosminah, a Sundanese lady so delicate and earthly one would think she was a fairy of the forests. When wartime came and the whites fled, Laila’s family stayed in support of the nation’s independence. The family did not approve of this. She didn’t care. Laila Mulyati did not care.

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

Bandung and Kuningan, Indonesia 1945

Laila met her husband, Raden Bei Prabowo Mangkoedimedjo, in Bandung. Bowo was a neighbor’s pen pal and of gentry birth, and he was instantly head over heels with the dark-eyed Laila, as if a personification of the girl in Panon Hideung herself. They married just as Indonesia gained independence and had twin girls in the following year. Laila was just eighteen when she had babies and it was not easy. Motherhood was something foreign to her and she had to learn it by herself. As nice as Ibu Ros was to her, her volatile relationship with her biological mother was enough to leave her incapacitated when it came to motherhood (mothering, on the other hand, is a different matter altogether). Still, she tried her best. She really did.

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

Kuningan, Indonesia - Boca Raton, Florida 1975

Philomena had graduated from college. Her twin sister Matilda did not stick with her as planned and decided to settle and breed with her high school sweetheart. Philomena did not have the patience to be an egg-brooding hen. She had expressed to her friends that she wanted to leave as soon as possible, especially from her Moes’ smothering. She had chosen to study Sociology at the University of Indonesia and stayed at a boarding house there. That never stopped her mother from dropping in from time to time all the way from Kuningan. She allowed Moes to smother as she pleased because she wouldn’t have to use her own money to buy food when she’s visiting, but it is quite exhausting to allow yourself to be smothered for years and years. Moes overheard this exchange (being the devil incarnate) and the next morning, she told Philomena she is to stay with her Aunt Coralea in Florida for a year.

Philomena was stunned, of course, and before she knew it she was in her aunt’s little condo in Boca Raton. The stay did not prove futile, as she became engaged to Southern aristocracy in the two years she was there. They had two wedding ceremonies; one in the US and one in Indonesia. Moes had a dance class to teach (she taught traditional dancing to the young ladies of Paterosari), so she did not see Philomena off on her day of departure. She hugged Moes goodbye at the door and left. Philomena was none the wiser.

Would you feel hurt telling your child goodbye as she became your daughter?

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

Batavia, New York 1988

Ana’s three daughters came back to New York. Ana had experienced a series of illnesses and was bedridden, so of course they had to settle the estate. When their father left for Indonesia, their paternal grandparents ‘adopted’ their mother and left her the land. The land had been divided and sold throughout the years, and by that time, it was just a small but beautiful piece of land that had been the last home of Ana Schuyler. Her daughters were no longer little girls then. Coralea never married and became a landlady in Florida, so she knew the details of the estate business better than her sisters. Miriam knew next to nothing, having jumped from relationship to relationship and marriage to marriage, hoping that she’d at least get some of her mother’s jewels. Her husbands had always been Dutch men, and Ana refused to visit her in the Netherlands.

And then there’s Laila. She had grown so much from that little girl she saw leaving on a ship with a flowery hat. Still Ana chided her for her sassing even when Laila had two children and four grandchildren by that time, but the years had mellowed them to the point of the interaction becoming in jest. In Laila’s eyes, Ana saw herself, and for the first time, Ana understood her.

She came home as Eleanor. She thought it was the least she could do. She had such pride, that woman.

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

Kuningan, Indonesia 2012

Matilda had died then, of emphysema and lung cancer. Her husband Hugo had disappeared years ago with no explanations, which sent her spiraling to instability. They had four children, and even their children were affected by Matilda’s thunderous descent. She had manic depression, apparently, and Moes remembered she saw the patterns in her own family—the aggression, the moodiness, the pitfalls of depression. It was harder for her to see her daughter suffering than to see her dying, though both practically ripped her apart. Still, she did not show it. Everyone was amazed at her strength.

By the time she was a widow, she had been many things and seen many things. She was involved with revolutionary women’s groups in the past and had joined efforts with other women to fight for the women’s cause in her town—and she understood her privilege as a descendant of colonials. In wartime, she volunteered as a nurse and eventually became one of the most senior members of the Indonesian Red Cross. She hinted, at one time, that she was a spy for the Indonesian rebels, and she defended her medical station from the Dutch with guns blazing. Of course, nobody ever found out if those things were true, but it made interesting conversation in her dance and exercise classes, knitting classes, and bird watching group.

Philomena had buried a husband and divorced two husbands by that time, and she had nothing left to stay on. She had been married long enough to her archeologist first husband to see the world. She had performed in nightclubs, cabarets, and theatres from Las Vegas to Paris. She had discovered a type of lizard in Brazil that was named after her, she had lived through the frigid winds of Siberia eating only dried food, and she even visited the elephant matriarch that killed her Grandfather Thomas in Tanzania. She had a trunk full of pictures, two trunks of knick-knacks, and a lifetime of memories to bring home when she decided to move back to the little town of Paterosari in Kuningan.

For forty years or so, she never stepped foot into her home country. Moes never allowed her, you see. It was always ‘I’ll come over to Atlanta to see you’ or anywhere else Philomena was staying in the US. Philomena never understood why. She never really understood why she was sent off to live with Aunt Lea back then and why, for forty years or so, she was not allowed to return home. As far as she was concerned, she wasn’t a communist connection forbidden to enter Indonesia because of the New Order’s restrictions (though her mother was probably closer to that), so why isn’t she allowed to come home?

It was 2012, and as she walked through the front garden of her house in Kuningan, laden with ferns and devil’s ivy, she decided that this was her last stop. It was as if she had always been there all this time. It was as if she were there just yesterday. Moes greeted her as any mother would, and soon began her readjustment from her worldly past life to her current, more provincial condition. Could it be that Moes was afraid that if her daughter returned home, she would never want to leave again? That she would stick by her dear old mother just to please her? That she would give up her exciting life in the great world beyond for the guilt she felt over leaving Moes?

Philomena never knew, not even when Moes died many years later. She did believe, strongly, that all this time she had been on the longest leash. She and her sister Matilda were her mother’s first and only children. As much as she struggled with motherhood, Moes was fiercely devoted to her children. A lot of this was lost in translation, Philomena supposed, which is why she wanted to leave. Perhaps Moes felt that she did not want Philomena to stick by for her sake. She did not want Philomena staying with her while dreaming of another life, while wondering what could be or what could have been.

Perhaps Moes loved her too much for that, so she allowed herself to be ripped apart for her flesh and blood to be happy. She did live that life, so she did not wonder about what could be or what could have been because she had been, and now it’s over. Philomena thought of how unlucky it is that children cannot choose their parents and how most of the time, it is parents that choose to have children. In retrospect, she was quite thankful.

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

The Future

She would remember, as she lay dying many years later, that she had many names. Eleanor, Nor, Nortje, Laila, Ibu Mangkoedimedjo, Oma, and Moes. All her life she had been known by these different names, and different people called her these different names in different situations. She had learned the pain of having dragged one’s ass from one place to another and the cognitive dissonance of having several names. She was no stranger to ambiguity and ambivalence. She reassured herself, in the silence of her cold bedroom, that it was never anyone’s fault. The broken hearts, the damaged consequences, and the wounded egos—all of them are inevitable in any sort of relationship.

The children were born into this world and they were never theirs to keep. Soon they will build dream after dream, and some dreams are ruined by their parents, parents that they did not choose. Is it their fault? Of course. As adults, they are obliged to be responsible for their actions. Anyone who says otherwise is a goddamn idiot. But then again, there are many ways to say ‘I love you’, and a lot of these things could easily be lost in translation. Does it matter, then, whose fault it was at that point?

At some point, the little eggs must leave the nest, and at that point, they were no longer eggs. What restrains someone from running towards their loved ones who are about to depart as they wave from an airport gate, a train station, behind the fence of an ivy-laced garden, or a wooden door? What difference would that make? Would that keep them at your side for another day? For what purpose?

It is rather difficult to think how hard it was for one to uproot oneself to another place, only for your offspring to come back to the place that was left behind. After all that hard work? What difference would it make?

Well, at one point, one must’ve breathed a sigh that could not be helped. As the world turns and turns you long for it to stop, for you to sit comfortably in your chair without the hours robbing you of your loved ones. You ask whether or not generation upon generation of guilt, of pain, of hurt, of joy, of laughter, and of love was worth all that trouble all your life.

At least she had lived her life then, and most importantly, at least she had come home.

#paterosari #indonesia #dutch east indies #indo belanda #words

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glenrocklibraryteens · 4 years

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BOOK REVIEW: A THOUSAND SPLENDID SUNS

A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini Fiction - Historical Number of Pages: 384 Rating: 5 - amazing - one of the best books I’ve read Reviewed by: Anonymous

The book has four total parts in which the first part is centered on the characters Mariam, Jalil, and Mariam’s mother; the second part is centered on Laili and her family; and the third part is a mix of perspectives of Mariam and Laili. The book starts off with the introduction of Mariam, one of the main characters, who is isolated from the main parts of Afghanistan living with her mom, however her mom ends up dying forcing her to live with her father Jalil and his three wives temporarily before marrying Rasheed. The story then switches to Laila who grows across the street from Rasheed and Laila. However there is an ongoing war in Afghanistan which ends up killing both of Laili’s brothers and both of her parents in which she ends up in Mariam and Rasheed’s house. The past experiences of mistreatment faced by Mariam and Laili and their opposition to male people in society will intertwine as they both live with Rasheed and are under control by the Taliban forces.

I personally loved the book as it contained strong vocab, made moments very clear and easy to visualize with its use of language, had cliffhangers, and because it took place during an actual time in history. At times, I would empathize with the female characters in the book, but I would also understand the strong cultural values that the Mujahideen and Taliban supported, but female characters did undergo physical and mental abuse. The main themes of the book were abuse of women by a patriarchal society, resistance to victimization, and the impact of tradition.

Another thing readers must keep in mind is to take notes of the historical references, because the reader must have a good understanding of the history in order to understand some parts of the book. Readers from eastern culture will be able to culturally relate to the book and also relate to the characters as well since the book takes place in Afghanistan which is in Asia. This book changed my view of society and the inhumanity of certain people and political parties towards people and it made me realize some of the hardships women in Afghan society had to face.

There are very few parts in the book where Islamic expressions are used, but it isn’t too much of an issue. The book also has an amazing front cover with nice artwork which shows the isolation and uncertainty of fate female characters face. I would definitely recommend this book for high schoolers and adults and not for middle schoolers because the book contains violence, romance, explicit language, and complex vocabulary.

#a thousand splendid suns #khaled hosseini #book review #historical fiction #teen book reviewer #glen rock library #glen rock nj

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spyvstailor · 4 years

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GRAVEYARD DIRT & SALT

CHAPTER FIVE: BENNY

“South Carolina abouts they have this critter called a 'Boo Hag', said to be a skinless sort of vampire and they like to ride you to death and steal your breath. If they like you, they keep you alive, sucking your air, sustaining themselves. But if they don't, if you struggle or make them angry, they skin you and wear your skin. Just walk around like they wear pants or such. But they can't stay riding you forever, they gotta be home and in their skin before sunrise or they become trapped forever without skin.”

Please support me, I’m still out of work because of COVID, so anything you can toss my way can really help. I’m going to need to feed my kitties soon! Reblog this if you can’t donate to please support a nearly starving author!

Read the newest chapter here below the cut if you want, since ko-fi can be unreliable!

Chapter Five: Benny

When everything went to hell, Benny had been at the top.

Maybe he still was? He had no idea how Vegas handled the swarms of the dead.

Probably no better than Atlanta.

God, what a fucking hole in the ground to be caught undead in. Why had he even agreed to come here to the middle of Satan's nutsack to make a deal?

By the time he waded through the packed streets, filled with fleeing idiots, days had passed and the wave of infection had spread.

When he made it to the edge of the city, it was almost completely overrun.

And his private helicopter, that last hope he had of leaving Georgia, was useless, no pilot. So, he was wading his way through the land of good ol' boys and peaches, heading home.

Because what else did he do? Just stay stuck in Georgia with the undead on his ass? Forever? The idea seemed to tickle him. It was divine retribution for all his sins. This was hell. He was in hell. Well, thanks but no thanks. He'd take his chances back in Vegas with his well-stocked warehouse and his penthouse in The Golden Rose.

God, he missed The Golden Rose. Melody's pretty little voice chirping 'Hello, welcome to The Golden Rose', every time he passed through the lobby, or the weird night gamblers bellying up at the bar around two in the morning, sipping on complimentary Flash-bang's, the signature drink created by Bruce behind the bar. Sure he had more employees than Melody and Bruce, the others, the late-night workers who always were just a little bit off, but friendly enough. The kids fresh out of school, old enough to work at the casino, who tried too hard to impress the boss. Sven in the kitchen, who never seemed to leave, always yelling at him for coming down and making those 'nasty little sandwiches' as he called them, the open-faced ones made with peanut butter and sliced bananas on plain white bread, the sandwiches Valerie had gotten him hooked on when they were first dating. They were her favourite midnight snack and they had fast become Benny's too.

Valerie.

Ten years. Holy fuck had it been ten years?

Plucking at a stretchy beaded bracelet he wore, Benny snapped it hard and shook off his thoughts of Valerie. They didn't do him any good in this new society.

From where he sat. Perched on the railing of the bell tower, looking down across a darkened Georgia, barely peeking over treetops that surrounded the convent, Benny exhaled.

Annie had given him the stink-eye at their new spot, full of bird shit and leaves and any kind of crap that the winds blew into the little tower, but Benny had sat her down gently onto the bearskin rug and the sleeping bag on top of it and promised her they would clean it up in the morning.

He didn't tell her what he was thinking, he didn't tell a lot of people what he thought, no one wanted to hear his bullshit. His old man used to say 'if I want your opinion, I'll beat it out of you' and he meant it.

The truth was, the trouble on the wall, the nun dying, had reminded him how dangerous it was. He had become too soft and spoiled lately, the dead were thinning out and he had forgotten what it was like when the outbreak first happened when it was really bad.

They were safer in the tower, should anything happen to the gate, there was a heavy church door to open and a narrow ladder to climb before anything could get at them.

And, sitting on the trapdoor that led to the ladder, Benny knew Annie was safer here than anywhere else.

It had been a long, long time since anyone had relied on Benny and he took his job seriously. Nothing would happen to Annie as long as he was alive and kicking.

During his flight from Atlanta, he had somehow wound up arm in arm with Annie and her mother Laila. They had sort of run across each other and just kept running in the same direction.

Benny had immediately liked Laila, she was tough as hell and he had to admire that about her. Not that he knew much about her or the kid, they weren't real big on talking and he also had to admit he liked it that way.

But Laila had his back and he had hers and they made a good team, but when she went out one morning to scrounge for breakfast and never came back he didn't think for a second the dead had gotten her. He knew her, she was a survivor.

Something else happened.

So he stuck around the area, hoping he'd find something which would let him know where Laila had gotten off too. And somehow, sticking around the small town, he wound up running into that marine and that Grayson kid, and when the kid started talking about men taking his sister, Benny started thinking. He wasn't a gambler by nature, despite him living in a casino in Las Vegas, but he would bet everything he had that when they found these men, he would find Laila.

And Jesus, if he didn't also kind of like that marine.

Not that he'd ever admitted that out loud. Admitting you liked someone, admitting you wanted to be someone's – what? Drinking buddy? At his age? Embarrassing.

But he liked him just fine. The Cajun was a tall puppy dog, but there was something about his optimism that balanced Benny's nihilism nicely.

On the wall below, three nuns kept vigil over Sister Mary Patrick's body. They couldn't retrieve her until morning, so they kept a quiet, mindful watch.

And just like those nuns, Benny would keep a silent watch over Annie all night long, he would sleep when she was old enough to take care of herself.

Sitting by the nuns' water pump in their convent yard the next morning, he watched Annie as she brushed her teeth, brushing his own with the travel toothbrush he kept in his jacket pocket. He liked to travel as light as possible, gun, bullets, knife, toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, and while he'd never admitted it, reading glasses for emergency reading, because fuck if he wasn't getting old.

He noticed the marine traveled with a goddamn apartment on his back and that was just fine for him. Marines were trained for distance and roughing it, they were pack mules. And just as dumb.

He needed more bullets for his tidy little Springfield, come to think of it.

“She's a good kid,” someone said from his left. It was a male voice and not Grayson's.

Benny ignored the marine for a moment, not wanting to chat about the fucking weather or some bullshit, spitting his toothpaste foam into a bucket of water to be dumped over the wall with the rest of the handwashing and face washing water.

There was a nun's body being buried out behind the church right now and he didn't feel like jibber-jabbing.

“We did our best last night,” the Lieutenant said, easing down beside him on one of the folding chairs the nuns had set up around their water source. For what? Water pump gossip? Maybe.

“Dead nun though,” Benny replied, sipping at some water to rinse his mouth.

The marine was quiet beside him, gazing out across the dewy lawns.

“I didn't mean to put the squeeze to you,” he began. “Yesterday in the church. I know you don't like talking about yourself.”

“Sure you did,” Benny returned.

Withdrawing for a moment to regroup, the marine went on, “fine. I did a little, but...it's hard trusting people nowadays, yeah?”

“Hard to trust people before this bullshit,” Benny shot back.

“Fair.”

There was a tension to the marine that told Benny he was gearing up for something, angling to reach for something during the entire conversation.

“You got something to say, don't pussyfoot,” he said calmly.

“Not that I don't believe you, but I want a reassurance that you're not trying to fuck us on this deal with the copter,” the marine said.

Benny nodded. “Yeah, I thought you'd think that. I wouldn't blame you. But it's real.”

“Well, we go in smart then,” the man stated.

“We go in smart,” Benny agreed, stretching out his legs and resting them on another chair across from him.

Beside him the marine remained seated, quiet in the growing daylight.

“We done?” Benny inquired.

“You ever hear about the boo hags?”

“The what?”

“And the moral of this story is...?” Benny prompted.

The Lieutenant shrugged, folding his arms. “Nothing really, I just think about the Boo Hags sometimes.”

“My granny used to tell me about this guy she knew from Corpus Christi, used to hate wearing pants. He wasn't crazy or anything, just said they were too hot and itchy, so he'd walk around in his boxer shorts everywhere.”

Around them, the nuns went about their morning routine, chores, and preparing for their morning mass after burying their fellow nun.

“Well,” Benny said. “Maybe he was a little crazy, I guess.”

Annie came to him and climbed into his lap, watching the activity around them quietly. It was a strange sort of calm to the morning, despite the funeral. It felt like the soft morning's Benny had at his grandparents, warms sunlight, peace, and quiet before the hectic activity of the day. It brought him back home to a home he mourned every single day of his life, a home he had only fleetingly as a boy before it was replaced with the boozy smelling mornings of his parents home.

“Mornings like this feel like my Mamere getting ready for church,” the Lieutenant said. “She used to sing when she was getting ready in the mornings, and she'd sing,

There's a land that is fairer than day,

and by faith we can see it afar;

for the Father waits over the way

to prepare us a dwelling place there.”

In his lap Annie rest her head against Benny's chest, listening to the marine as he sang in a fine, deep baritone. Benny knew the song well, it was his grandmother's favourite. When she finally came and took him home, to his real home with her and his grandfather, away from the chaos of his mother and father's lives.

They were the only people who ever really loved him.

The hymn brought back memories of Sunday mornings dressing for church, of Sunday evenings with the smell of roast chicken and his granny's baked apples, sweetened with brown sugar, butter, and cinnamon, sticky and warm.

He didn't live with them long. They were hit by a drunk driver and killed two years after he moved in with them. Benny went back to the chaos and Edna and Merle were buried in Oak Grove.

At the sound of the gentle singing, a few nearby nuns gathered in closer, curious, and quiet. Raised Baptist by his grandparents at least, Benny joined in with the marine, singing only very, very faintly, as though he were doing it for his granny and no one else. He would sing in a voice only barely above a whisper.

It was Annie who joined in the singing, almost eager and happy to do something that wasn't fighting and surviving.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

We shall sing on that beautiful shore

the melodious songs of the blessed;

and our spirits shall sorrow no more,

not a sigh for the blessing of rest.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

To our bountiful Father above

we will offer our tribute of praise

for the glorious gift of his love

and the blessings that hallow our days.

“My granny used to sing that one too,” Benny finally admitted, in the stark silence at the end of the song. “Yours lived with you?” He asked.

The Lieutenant nodded. “Yeah, my grandparents raised me.”

“Where were your parents?” Benny asked.

“Due to circumstances beyond my control, nowhere in sight,” the Lieutenant replied, a grin in his voice. “My ma was hospitalized most of my young life,” he added in a more serious tone. “The man who impregnated her was...not important.”

“Pump and dump?”

“Of sorts, not really given permission for it though,” the Cajun finished tentatively.

Benny felt his blood chill a little. “I get you.” He said, not wanting the marine to have to open up old wounds.

“You?”

“I lived with my grandparents for a while, yeah. My parents were...selfish pricks, they lived in Galveston.”

“I get you,” the marine repeated his own words. Easing back in his chair, the Cajun asked, “where you from? Where'd you grow up? You said you lived in Forth Worth?”

“My grandparents lived in Fort Worth, so I guess I moved between there and Galveston mostly.”

“What happened to the twang? You lose it or hate it?” The Lieutenant inquired.

Benny chuckled. “I haven't lived there for years.”

“Can never really shake the twang though, yeah?” The Lieutenant teased.

“I guess not. You? I know Cajun when I hear it, but where you from in Louisiana?”

“Eunice.”

“Eunice? That's...down south, isn't it? Way down the bayou,” he mocked the Lieutenant's accent, prompting the marine to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

“Annie,” he turned to the kid in his lap. “Why don't you head inside the infirmary, okay? I'll be right there to get you set up for the day.”

The girl slipped down to the ground and nodded, heading obediently for the building where Grayson was already getting his shit together.

Sullen, a little pissed that he was forced to face things he had buried long ago in Texas, Benny remained quiet for a good long time. Long enough that eventually the anger dispersed.

Benny sat still and silent so long that eventually, it was just him and the Cajun, who remained, squatted down on his haunches, resting.

“We're running on a very short timeline,” Benny finally said to the man.

The marine nodded. “Yep.”

“That girl, if she is still alive, won't be so young and vibrant if she's with these men, I can tell you that right now. Feel like with no law, men will become animals, women will become prey.”

“What's going on in that tiny bird brain of yours?” The Cajun asked.

“You need to stay here and train up some of these damned nuns, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Think you could trust me?” Benny asked suddenly, turning away from the middle nothing he was staring at and pining the Cajun with a look.

For a good long while the marine eyed him back, blue-grey eyes hard and scrutinizing. At rest the man's face was regal, but villainous, betraying his genuine kindness, at rest his face was the face of a man you didn't want to fuck with.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You're going to have to know so,” Benny urged.

“Alright, I know I can trust you.”

“It might be riskier, but time is important, isn't it?”

“What's your plan, fancy man?”

“When I was poking around the church earlier, I spied some priest shit, a get up for a proper man of the Lord. Might give me a pretty good shield, might get me close enough to those men if I can find them, to get inside their group.”

“Espionage?”

“Whoa, slow down there Bayou-bred, that's a big word for you.”

The two men hushed up as Grayson began to head over towards them.

“Fuck off, Grayson!” Benny shouted.

“Fuck you, assclown!” Grayson snarled back, veering off in anger towards the wall and the gate.

“That kid is going to murder you in your sleep some night, paon.” The Lieutenant mused.

“Ah well, he's a good kid, needs toughening up. Mouthy little fuck though.”

The two men settled a little again, their ruffled feathers smoothing out in the tranquility that followed the exchange between Benny and Grayson.

“You could get yourself killed ducking in on a group like a priest. If they find out you're not or if they happen to find out what you're up to.”

“I know,” Benny replied. “But I'm good at it.”

“Good at it?” The Lieutenant asked.

Benny smiled. “Getting into places I shouldn't be as someone I'm not.”

The Cajun was quiet, before sighing. “Okay. Cut the shit, what the fuck are you?”

“I'm goddamned good at what I do. You just worry about these nuns. When I head out, you need to do one thing for me. You just need to trust that whatever happens once I leave this convent, I'm not going to fuck you over. Annie will stay here, she'll be my guarantee that I won't let anything happen.”

“Okay.”

“You tell anyone you need that I ran off in the night, just not Annie. You tell her I'll be back. You need to do this for me. Can you do this?”

“I don't like handing the reins over, but...you're right. Time is important and these nuns can't be left alone. Splitting up might be the best bet for everyone. I'll play my part.”

“Pact?” Benny offered, holding out his hand. He knew it was childish, but he wanted God (if there be any) to witness his honesty. For once in his goddamned life of other names, other faces, he wanted some higher power to see his bluffing ass telling a truth.

The Lieutenant leaned back a little, before saying, “brothers. It makes you blood. You don't cross blood.”

“Brothers,” Benny swore, the two men shaking hands firmly.

Releasing hands, the two men sat back a little, trying to look like two men just sharing a conversation, as Mena poked her head out of the convent cloister and started their way.

“We meet up tonight, dead of night when everyone is asleep, in the back room of the church,” Benny said softly, hurrying before Mena could join them.

The Lieutenant nodded.

“Gentlemen,” Mena greeted in the high toned, pretty magnolia blossom voice of hers. Pure sugar, pure south. “Good morning.”

“Why Miss Mena, you're as pretty as a bluebell this morning,” Benny teased, mocking her southern accent.

She offered him a stern, but sparkling warning look, the corners of her mouth lifted a little like a cat. She looked like she was grateful for the teasing distraction, grateful because otherwise, it was pure mourning and fear that remained should she not have anything to distract her from it. “You may mock me all you want, Mr. Malone, but I lost one of my flock last night and I'm not in the mood. Now, we've buried the poor woman, and we were promised training. The sooner the better, I think.”

“Are you thinking of staying? You and Annie are very welcome to.”

They had gotten the nuns started with whatever makeshift weapons they could find and while the Lieutenant gave them a rifle handling and maintenance crash course, Mena had once more sidled up beside Benny as he stood in the shadows of the eastern side of the church, watching the chaos, while idly thumbing through a small bible he had found in the church.

“You're thinking of the wrong man,” he replied, motioning with his head at the marine. “He's probably yours for life though.”

She smiled. “We love having you here, Mr. Malone. All of you.” She hesitated, before adding, “I sort of forgot how boring convent life can be until you all arrived to shake things up. Granted, we suffered a loss, but...I think we're stronger with you and the Lieutenant and even Annie and Grayson. We're no longer cloistered, we're a community center, a...a home.”

He opened his mouth about to say something, before considering it, finally he relented. “I know a nun's faith is sacred to her, but...why did you become a nun? You seem...unhappy with your lot.”

“I wouldn't say unhappy,” she replied. “I'm ungrateful in a small way. I became a nun to help people. Work missions and aid the poor and those most unfortunate. I suppose, I just...never felt like I was helping much here. Feel sort of immured behind these walls.”

“Immured?”

Before Mena could answer his question, the Lieutenant joined them, easing against the church for a rest in the shade.

“So?” Benny asked him.

“Well, they don't like the idea of hitting anyone, seem hesitant, but I think when push comes to shove they know how to do it.”

Scoffing, Benny turned to Mena. “What about you, debutante? Wanna fight with the others?”

Mena laughed. “I'm afraid I don't care much for fighting.”

“You need to learn how,” he went on.

“I know how to throw a punch, Mr. Malone,” Mena argued gently.

Inhaling calmly, Benny scooped the nun up easily in one move and had her stomach perched on his shoulder as she dangled over it in shock, her legs and knees digging into his chest in shock.

“So you're telling me,” Benny began as Mena struggled to be put down, trying to maintain her dignity while being treated like a sack of flour, “you know how to prevent being carted off by someone like this?”

“Mr. Malone, please?!” Mena shouted, panicked. Her ever calm facade breaking into a sort of girlish embarrassment. Shrill and just a little tremulous.

“Don't break the nun,” the Lieutenant warned with a small grin.

Sensing the rest of the nuns' attention and maybe wanting to cheer them up just a little with a distraction from the death of Sister Mary Patrick, Benny perked a little more, hefting the woman on his shoulder as she squirmed.

“Are you kidding me?” He demanded loudly. “I'm two steps away from giving her a noogie. This is fun. I'm going to hold her down and snicker-snag on her if she can't break away.”

“Don't you dare! Put me down!” Mena shouted as the rest of the nuns began to notice the noise and started wandering over towards them curiously.

“Look at how small she is,” Benny laughed. “I could toss her over the wall into a pile of leaves like a little mouse. Hey, give me a hand, I want to try playing keep-away with this shrimp.”

“Are you seriously bullying me right now, Mr. Malone?” Mena demanded, still draped over his shoulder, her veil fluttering to the ground, all dignity lost. “Lieutenant, please?”

“I can't step into another man's training ring,” the Lieutenant lied. “It's not courteous.”

“Courteous?!” The nun hollered.

“Think if I put her down and follow her she'll lead me to her pot of gold?” Benny asked, spinning with the nun.

A stray knee from the poor nun hit Benny in the mouth and he reeled back a little, blood drawn.

“Alright, play time's over, kids,” the Lieutenant stepped in, moving to take Mena from Benny.

As soon as the Cajun set Mena right again, kneeling to get her veil for her, she was puffing up like a little ruffed grouse and twirling around to poke at Benny in the chest.

He was too distracted by the taste of blood on his lip to notice.

Behind them the nuns that had gathered were all trying to conceal their amusement at the scene, a few of them giggling into their veils, some turning their soft laughter into mild coughs.

“Serves you right,” Mena stated. “The indignity!”

Benny, idly licking at his torn lip, grinned and held his hands up. “Hey, okay. Put the guns away, shrimp, you win.”

“Blood has been drawn, no harm done,” the Lieutenant said. At Mena's sharp look, he amended that statement to a soft, “maybe?”

“I am an Abbess,” Mena snarled, whirling on Benny again, her little finger pointed at him like a rifle. “I deserve a modicum of respect.”

“A what?” Benny asked, pocketing his hands. “Hey, don't get mad, country mouse, you said you could handle yourself, and boy, did you sure prove me wrong.”

“I,” Mena began, a little louder than her normal soft-spoken Southern belle coo. She stopped short and seemed to inhale, calming herself. “I...will not let you goad me into a fight, just to prove myself capable, Mr. Malone.”

“One punch,” he pushed. “Just one solid punch and I'll leave you alone.”

Mena was quiet, still trying to smooth her habit and veil back into place after her manhandling.

“It might give you back a bit of that lost dignity,” Benny added in a whisper, leaning towards her.

“Sock him, Mother!” One of the older nuns shouted.

“And just like that the teachings of peace and forgiveness of Christ have been forgotten,” Mena murmured.

“If you punch him then he'll stop being a bully,” another nun suggested.

“I don't think Sister Mary Patrick would approve of this,” another nun pointed out.

“Like it nothing, she'd love to see this cheeky man popped in his cheeky face,” yet another nun added.

“I will not,” Mena declared. “We are not animals and I refuse to hit a man without due cause.”

“He just picked you up like you were a duffle bag, just hit him in his pretty face and get it all over with,” Sister Mary Agnes, one of the few nuns Benny could tell apart suggested. “I would,” she added, before crossing herself quickly in a form of silent absolution.

“Aw,” Benny gushed. “She thinks I'm pretty. Come on, Abbess, just give me one solid punch and prove yourself capable. Come on,” he went on, “I know there's an animal concealed under those robes of yours, let the lioness out.”

“Lieutenant?” Mena asked.

The tall man sort of took a thoughtful step back on one foot and considered it quietly, before he answered with a simple, “hit him.”

Mena was quiet, sizing up Benny for a bit.

He could see her small hands curling into fists at her side and tightened his jaw to take the hit.

Instead, Mena's hands relaxed and she shook her head, turning to Annie who was watching.

“We don't hit people who don't deserve it,” she explained to the child. “A lady must always take the high road.”

“As short as she is, the high road would be the best option,” Benny murmured.

Mena leveled her chin almost indignantly, still looking at Annie.

“Good for you, Mother,” Mary Elizabeth said. “Remember Matthew 5:39. But I say to you, do not resist an evil person; but whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also.”

“If he keeps taunting her I'll show him both cheeks,” one of the older nuns grumbled.

Benny laughed to himself. He didn't know much about each individual nun yet, but he knew he liked the older nun with just that one sentence.

“We are not a boxing club,” Mena went on. “Though we will train to defend ourselves, senseless violence is never the right path. Despite how much a man may want to be hit by a lady.”

“It's always been my dream,” Benny added playfully.

“I'm gonna hit him for you,” the Lieutenant broke in.

Laughing, Benny backed away, hands up. “Okay, I wanted to get hit, not knocked out today.”

This seemed to break up the gathering, nuns moving off, heading back to their training.

Mena, still a little fired up, remained for a moment.

“No hard feelings, Thumbelina,” Benny said. “I just wanted to see your form.”

“I'm sure you felt enough of my form while I was riding high on your shoulder,” she returned a little bitterly, before walking off.

Benny sidled up beside the Lieutenant, still grinning. “She was real mad.”

“Yeah.”

“Has kind of a temper.”

“Yeah.”

“I kind of liked it.”

“Easy now.”

“Don't tell me you've never thought of picking her up,” Benny went on. “She's so fucking small.”

The Lieutenant smiled. “I mean, I could.”

“Hell yeah, you could. You could pick me up, big guy.” As they walked off, heading for the infirmary, Annie following behind, the fancy man added, “but don't ever fucking try, because I will lay you out.”

Chuckling, the Lieutenant opened the infirmary door for the shorter man and said, “you could never, little fancy man.”

Inside the infirmary Grayson sat on his cot, reading a well-thumbed copy of some real crime book, looking bored and still angry.

“Hey kid,” Benny greeted. “You need to learn some fighting too or do you think you'll pull some karate moves out of your ass when the time comes?”

“Could kick your ass,” the kid grumbled.

“Want to give it a try?” Benny offered sincerely. “See what you got?”

“You have, like, thirty years on me, think I'd win, grandpa,” Grayson replied.

“Only one way to find out.”

“You think you'll be ready to head out tomorrow morning?” The Lieutenant asked the kid, playing his part perfectly to Benny's delight. At least the marine had a poker face. “We have to get to that airfield before noon if we want to find proper camp before dark.”

“I was ready two days ago, what have you two been doing?”

“Keeping these nuns safe first and foremost,” Benny said. “You know, about eleven lives versus one? Using our brains.”

Grayson glowered at him.

“Can the shitty attitude, we're trying,” Benny went on firmly.

“Tomorrow,” the Lieutenant said firmly, breaking up the tension, “we will continue on the hunt for these men. Right now, I have to head out to get something for dinner for all of us.”

“Not taking your life partner with you?” Grayson asked.

“Surprisingly progressive, kid,” Benny mused, folding his arms. “I don't even think it's an insult.”

“More observational than insulting,” the Lieutenant added.

“You could do worse than me,” Benny teased.

“Could do better too, paon.” The marine retorted dryly, offering Benny a small grin as he grabbed up his rifle. “Don't kill each other while I'm gone, yeah?”

“Can I hang him from a flag pole again?” Benny asked. “Seems to be the best way to take the bite out of him.”

“Fuck you, Benny,” Grayson growled.

“That is no way to speak to your elders, son!” Benny replied.

“Come on, kid. Let's head out for a hunt.” The Lieutenant said, stepping in calmly.

Grayson jumped up, eager to finally help, but couldn't resist grumbling, “don't call me 'kid', old man.”

“Don't call me old, son,” the Lieutenant murmured, ducking out of the infirmary after the boy.

Alone in the infirmary now with Annie, Benny inhaled and turned to her.

“You like those two?”

She shrugged.

Looking at the child in his care, Benny wanted to say something to her, to emote. But emotions were never his thing, once he opened that pandora's box they wouldn't stop. So he reached out and ruffled her hair, the two puffs on top, at least.

He liked the kid, he really did. Hell, he could almost admit to himself that he loved her and if it wasn't for circumstances and his fucking weak need to be helpful, he wouldn't be leaving her at the convent.

There were mornings, before they ran into the marine, that he would wake up from light, cautious sleep, to find her sitting up and watching him.

She never said much, and he always wondered what was going on in her undeveloped little noodle, she didn't even really speak much even when Laila was with them. Horrors, he assumed, something that kept Laila on edge and wary of their surroundings, haunted the two of them and when Benny found the mother and child, or rather when they had found him, they were almost feral.

He assumed it was something to do with the wedding ring on Laila's finger, of the way it took Annie months to finally take his hand without him telling her to.

She kept close to him now, she had lost her father – as far as Benny knew, and now her mother and the child was wafting on the breeze, drifting around with no moorings. Nothing to tether her to safety and comfort, but for him.

And Benny hated that it had to be him that poor girl relied on. He wasn't reliable, not to people who loved him – at least. He had cut his moorings a long time ago, or...maybe they had rotted with Valerie. Moldering in the grave with his beautiful wife, her cold hands clutching the last strands of the rope that had kept him from drifting.

He didn't mind being tethered by Valerie, he liked it even. Whenever he'd go off and come home, he had a home to come to. She would be there, bright and smiling, her flower garden always in bloom, it seemed, even in the cold Rhode Island winters, when the wind came across the Atlantic frigid and cruel.

She had died in the winter, or the early spring, rather. March. The witches tit of a month, the cold, brown spring.

Valerie wanted to be buried, not cremated, so they had to wait another month before she could be buried.

Benny was gone long before that. He had left the night she died, just walked away.

He liked the poetic idea of their beautiful home and everything in it rotting with his wife, like the idea of her garden drying up and withering. No one deserved her things, or her garden or even dare come near anywhere she had walked.

If he could, he would have built a stone wall, higher than the one that kept them safe at the convent, wider than it needed to be, all around Rhode Island. He would have kept everyone from that state. It would become a shrine to Valerie. His angel. Patient and sweet and everything he didn't fucking deserve.

So with no option to do any of that, he burned Rhode Island from his mind, it didn't exist in his world. It was a crater, with his wife dead in the center.

Everything he owned, everything that remained clinging to him when he walked away, was thrown into the ocean to fucking disappear. Except for his wedding band, wrapped like a napkin ring around a rolled-up photo of her, that he kept in his sock, secured by the knife strap he wore.

When he began to feel too alive, he would torment himself, like a form of self-harm, only instead of cutting his body, he wounded his soul. He would unroll that photo and wear that ring and he would feel every moment of sorrow all over again.

Was that healthy? Was grieving like that right? No. He knew it was sick.

But life was fucking sick, because she was good and he was not, and she died, starving to death because the cancer that had started in her uterus had swept viciously through her body, into her stomach and everything she ate, would be thrown up, black and diseased. And she withered fast, like a rose when the frost touches it.

But she didn't wither fast enough not to suffer.

And even now, with the fucking infected, or the dead, whoever you asked, when they ravaged and tore people apart, he somehow lived. At first, he wanted to live, it was human nature to fight to survive.

Valerie wanted to live too, and she died. So he would live for her if only to eat all the pain he couldn't eat of hers.

And then he had Annie and Laila, and while they were never anything more than people surviving together, Benny had formed an attachment, the first kind of real attachment to the two of them. He had begun to re-weave that tether that had rotted away from Valerie and then one morning, Laila was just gone.

She had left a note, she always did when she went out on her own to scavenge.

But she never came back.

And Benny felt another tether begin to rot.

He was a man struggling to hold on to a handful of sand in a wind storm.

So he held Annie's tether tight because he knew she held his just as tight.

Yes. He did love the child.

He wished the world was better for her, but he thanked the chaos and the randomness of numbers that he had her, and if these men had Laila, if she fell prey to them, he would get her back if she was alive and he would hand over the tether that Annie held that connected to him, back to her mother.

But he was still stunted and fucked up emotionally, so all of this, loving the kid and wanting everything for her, came out in a hand rubbing the top of her head. Because Benny's parents didn't hug and Benny didn't know what to do with a child, he and Valerie had never had one and they never talked about having one. And then she died and he had never been around children except when he was one.

So he tousled her hair and thought to himself that maybe someday he'd be able to express himself to someone else.

Maybe someday Rhode Island would exist on his maps again. Maybe Valerie would finally rest in peace because he could move on and grow and learn to be a human being.

Or maybe he would die trying to get Laila back to her mother and that girl back to her brother and maybe there would be no lesson for him to learn, no more room for him to grow.

Maybe Georgia would become to Annie what Rhode Island was to Benny. Not because of him, he didn't assume the child held any love for him, she was only clinging to him because she was lost, no perhaps she would bury Georgia behind a wall, because of her mother, because of her father, because of the dead and because every day she woke up, she had to see a corpse.

No child should ever have to live in a real nightmare.

Or.

Or maybe someday, Annie would stitch Georgia back together, maybe there could be hope for her future. The dead were thinning out and maybe her mother would return and maybe she'd find happiness, though he knew she would still have nightmares about the dead, he had nightmares about the dead, about Laila and Valerie and Annie, all roaming across the wastelands of his dreams, their eyes cloudy, milky with rot, because the cornea's had no blood flow, their fingertips turning black, their skin waxy and bloated.

Since it had begun, Benny had seen too many children among the dead, small forms, corpses that hungered, but never seemed to eat, only tear and shred and maim.

The thing was, the dead or the infected didn't make very loud sounds. They shuffled and they slogged, their feet dragging, but they didn't moan like the movie zombies, they would give off mewl-like moans. Something almost like the air just rising up from their bloated bellies. It was soft enough to miss if you weren't listening for it. And it wasn't often like they were sleeping and then would moan or when they mimicked and exhale of air. They were near silent forms moving like manifest destiny towards eternity.

Beside him, Annie was very much alive and he would make sure she stayed that way. Benny was nothing if resourceful and he could use those resources to the best of his ability.

If brute strength and survival were what the Lieutenant did best, Benny's abilities were subversive action and artful manipulation.

#novel #support an author #Graveyard Dirt & Salt #zombies #sorry it took me a while to post my friends and supporters i had some mental health set backs due to being laid off and jobless #but im back!

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aithrauniverse · 4 years

Text

Chapter 15-Laila

The spirit— now a misshapen mess of darkness— pushed itself off Astra’s shield and landed on the ground. It took the form of a sloppier version of a human (looking a little slimy); it no longer had angled features like before. I steadied myself and looked the beast in what should be its eye.

The sounds around me seemed to fade together into a single muted buzzing when I looked into its eyes. It felt like something— or someone— was saying something, but there were many overlapping voices. I couldn’t tell what I was hearing.

It’s alright, I can win this.

I motioned to Astra and Aithne to take a step back, whispering, “Whatever happens… don’t take part in the fight.”

I shifted my gaze to the spirit. The sound of footsteps began fading away. The spirit began to follow.

“Where are you going? Your opponent is me,” I stopped the spirit.

Is it really me talking? I don’t even know anymore. It must be the spirit at work.

The spirit tried to jump over me, but I quickly grabbed it by its foot, pulling it to the ground.

“Not so fast.”

The spirit threw my hand off its foot and charged at me. I snapped, warping to the side, “Nope.”

The spirit tried to strike at me again, but I continued warping away.

“Nope, nope. Nope, nope, nope…” I muttered as I kept repeatedly disappearing and appearing. The spirit, on the other hand, kept turning around, searching up and down for where I would appear, and attempting to strike. It was just like how a cat would try to catch a piece of catnip dangling off a rod, clawing away but always missing.

As I was about to teleport again, the edge of the spirit’s mouth turned up.

Huh?

I reappeared a little while after, just a little off from where I had previously disappeared. My mind was still processing the spirit’s actions. Suddenly, the spirit started charging straight at me, its head down like a bull. I dodged to the left as fast as I could.

“Ow!” I staggered and clenched my right shoulder with my left hand. I looked up at the spirit. It stood over me, its mouth curled in a nasty grin – I couldn’t really tell, its face was so distorted. Apparently I was not to underestimate this beast. Clearly, it was far stronger than me – it only let me bask in triumph earlier to make me overconfident.

I opened my right palm, focusing the light into several shapes. The light began to take form, and soon after, I had a bunch of throwing stars ready in my hands.

Jshoomp!

I warped to behind the spirit, throwing a shuriken at its head. The spirit turned around and lowered its head, dodging and countering my attack with a punch. I teleported away, fast enough to avoid it. This time around, I warped in random directions all around the spirit, throwing one star whenever I reappeared, and readying another whenever I could.

I kept this up for a while, gradually getting tired. After quite some time, I stopped warping and simply began throwing the stars at the spirit, who was dashing towards me in a zig-zag motion. All the squinting and aiming was making me go cross-eyed, so none of my stars really hit the spirit. I continued trying to hit it, before I realized.

I was going to get hit.

I was about to snap my fingers and teleport, but the spirit grabbed my right hand and squeezed four of my fingers tight. I watched as it clenched its other hand into a fist, struggling to bring my fingers together.

What do I do?

I’m going to get hit badly if I don’t run…!

But I can’t lose… they trusted me to take care of this spirit; I can’t let them down!

I took a deep breath, getting rid of that false sense of fear, and quickly studied the spirit. I almost gasped.

A weak spot! Then… when it releases my hand a little…

The spirit raised its arm.

…it should work.

For a very brief moment, it loosened its grip on my right hand, probably to adjust its grip. I quickly managed to open up a portal right in front of my face, ‘teleporting’ its incoming fist to right behind its head. Then I opened up my left palm and brought enough light together to form a dagger of pure light.

Stay focused.

If this fight goes on any longer, it won’t be the spirit who’s dying.

The spirit’s head got closer to me as it (sort of) punched itself from the back of its head. I placed a hand on its shoulder (which felt strangely solid), pulled my other arm backwards and quickly pushed it forward, right into the spirit’s supposed abdomen.

I cringed a little and squeezed my eyes shut, hoping not to hear the spirit cry out or scream loudly. I tightened my grip on its shoulders.

I’m sorry.

The spirit let out a not-too-loud, hoarse screech, similar to that of an eagle which was shot down.

Then, both my hands began to drop. I opened my eyes. The spirit disintegrated into pieces, which were brought away by the wind, just like how small pieces of paper would. I watched as it got so small, it disappeared from my sight, leaving the sun to shine brightly on its own.

The buzzing noise in my ear had gone, too. Perhaps it was just a means of distraction.

“Woah, that was a tough one,” Astra commented, starting to run towards me.

“Mhm, a lot of action,” Aithne said, following her.

Two sets of footsteps, loud and clear, made their way across the field of lush green grass, partially stepped flat from all that action. The sunlight was… pretty warm. Like it was comforting me over the fact that I had killed something.

“…yeah,” I turned to look at them, smiling, “Let’s go now, alright? Endra’s waiting.��

#story #storywriting #stories #writing #writer #writers #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #fiction #fiction story #fictional #fictional story #mythical creature #spirit #mythology #school project #laila :3

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iwhumpyou · 5 years

Text

Gift (Part 3)

Masterlist. Raider.

Taglist: @smileevenwhenyoudontfeellikeit

Part 2.

~#~#~#~#~#~

“Well?” Laila asked as Kate returned from Riya’s room. Or rather, Laila’s room, that had the softest bed and had been deemed the best place for Riya to convalesce – Kate had taken the guest room under her adamant stance that she was not going to leave Laila alone with Riya and Laila had taken the couch. She hadn’t been able to sleep well after her magic had been stripped anyway.

Kate looked at her, her face lined with exhaustion. There were remnants of the black blood on her hands and Laila shifted impatiently as she waited for her to speak.

The poison had no cure. Laila knew that. But surely if Riya was – surely Kate would tell her.

“You gave her your magic?” Kate asked, collapsing onto the couch, heedless of the stains.

“Yes. She’d been poisoned,” Laila said tersely, “There was no cure so I gave a bit of my magic to fight it.”

“And she gave it back,” Kate murmured. She didn’t look nearly as antagonistic as she had after the first time she healed Riya. There was something softer in her eyes, an understanding of sorts. “Tanner said she was on top of you?”

“Sealed by true love’s kiss,” Laila snarled this time, “What does it matter? How is she?”

Kate frowned in annoyance before subsiding. “The poison has no cure –” Laila knew that “- but it appears it can be removed. It’s been a while since she was poisoned, isn’t it?” Laila nodded mutely. “The poison has been entirely flushed out of her system.”

“That’s good news,” Laila said, guarded because Kate wasn’t done.

“The damage that was done,” Kate hesitated, “It cannot be repaired with magic.”

~#~

When Riya woke up, her body was aching worse than it had been the day before. Her arms and legs felt like leaden weights and she felt exhausted in a way she hadn’t even when there had been a building on top of her.

But she could wiggle all her fingers and toes without pain. Her arms and legs were stiff and weak but they didn’t hurt. It ached to draw a breath but when she placed a hand against her chest her ribs didn’t hiss with pain. Her wounds from the collapsing building seemed to have all healed but in return –

– The exhaustion was what had finally done it. Riya had no energy to fight them anymore and against her wishes they’d dragged her to the Chief Witch’s doorstep. Every part of her body ached and burned, and when Laila opened the door she could no longer stand on her own power.

Soon, as Laila muttered and cursed, she could not even keep her eyes open.

It was a bone-deep weariness that dragged at her, pulling her under inch by inch with grasping, greedy fingers, into the oblivion that would never let go –

She exhaled, slow and deep. She had known this might be the price to pay ever since she found the answer she’d been looking for. Leaving Lee without her magic was unacceptable. Riya couldn’t help anyone else, wasn’t a raider any longer, but she could help her.

Giving the city back its Chief Witch was all she could do. Giving her lover back her very nature was what she had to do, even if it killed her.

Riya was half-surprised it hadn’t. Laila had made it very clear that the poison had no cure and her gift of magic was the only thing that could save her, the magic locked in an eternal battle against the poison, shoring up her body for the rest of her life.

Well, the magic was no longer there and a part of her felt cold, like she hadn’t noticed the warmth until it was gone. And her body felt weak, as weak as it had almost a year ago, when Riya had crumpled because no matter how hard she tried, she no longer had the energy to stay upright.

She became aware that there was someone else in the room when the flowers across the ceiling began to sway in a fierce breeze. She tilted her head towards the doorway – lifting it seemed like an insurmountable task at the moment – and saw Laila standing there, her face shadowed.

“Lee –” she started, but cut off hastily as Laila stepped fully into the room. Riya almost didn’t recognize the look on her face as anger – she had never seen Laila so furious before. Even in their worst fights, even after they’d both yelled some hateful things, she had never seen this black rage.

“Lee,” she said, quieter, shrinking back into the bed, “Did it not work?” She hadn’t even considered that, and a kernel of panic arose – what if she’d given up Laila’s magic for nothing?

Laila’s expression twisted but she shot out a hand that was holding flames and Riya sighed and went boneless. She smiled at Laila but the witch’s expression twisted even further and she balled her hand into a fist, snuffing the flames out. “There is nothing to smile about,” Laila hissed.

Riya was confused. “You got your magic back,” she said.

“Did you never listen to me?” Laila’s every word seemed like it was a snarling mass of hate, “Did nothing I ever said make it into that thick skull of yours? Did you blithely ignore everything I’d ever told you?”

“What are you talking about?” Riya tried to remember if Lee had given her any warnings on magic before.

“When your friends dragged you here, you were dying,” Laila said, coldly furious, “I told you it was a poison without a cure. I told you that my magic was the only reason you were alive. I told you that it would fight eternally against the poison as a balance, so you would live.”

“Yes,” Riya agreed, because all that was true.

“So what did you think would happen, you idiot, when you gave that magic away?!” Laila almost screamed and Riya shrunk back further.

“I’m – I’m not entirely –”

“You got rid of the only protection I could give you!” Laila’s eyes were flashing and what little Riya could see of the room outside got darker. She thought she could see lightning flashing in the window outside. “You’re lucky you didn’t die!”

“Why didn’t I?” Riya asked, and gulped as Laila’s expression grew even darker, “Um, not that I’m very thankful I didn’t…”

“The poison had been flushed out of your system in the months between then and now,” Laila bit out tersely, “But you have no idea what you’ve done.”

Riya had to raise an eyebrow at that, because she knew full well what she’d been doing.

“The poison has no cure,” Laila snarled, “The damage that was done cannot be undone. Cannot be healed by magic. And you took a gift I gave you and threw it back in my face.”

“I gave you back your magic,” Riya said quietly but firmly, and a thank you would’ve been nice. “I knew what I was doing.”

“I can never heal you with my magic again,” Laila said, “I gave it to you and you gave it back and that means a very specific thing.” Riya knew, she’d read it in one of Laila’s books. “You’re discharged from the raiders, you have lingering damage from a vicious poison and you’ve made it so I can never help you again.”

Riya looked into Laila’s eyes and saw tears shimmering there. “It was worth it,” she said softly, because it was.

“If what I used to seal Hadrian away considers my magic returned as a breach of contract? If he comes back? What then?” Laila snarled.

“It was worth it,” Riya repeated, because she would never have condoned Laila sacrificing herself the first time. There would be another way. There was always another way.

“That wasn’t your decision to make!” Laila shouted, “You never asked me what I wanted!”

Riya hadn’t asked because she knew the answer. “It was my decision,” she said, a hint of steel in her tone, and Laila took a half step back before she recovered. “It was a gift, freely given. And freely returned.”

“I never wanted you to,” Laila said, softer, but no less furious.

“And I never wanted you to sacrifice yourself,” Riya said, equally soft.

“That was my choice,” Laila said through gritted teeth.

“And this was mine,” Riya cut her off, because Laila could shout and scream and rage all she’d like. Riya had not rushed into this blindly. She knew what she’d been looking for, she knew what she’d found, she knew the consequences of her actions and she’d accepted them.

“Did you ever consider that seeing you in pain I cannot touch would break my heart?” Laila said, and those were definitely tears streaming down her face.

“It was a choice between a broken heart and a broken soul,” Riya said, smiling softly, “I chose what I could mend.”

Laila made a choked sound that was half-sob, half-scream and turned away. The thunderstorm raged outside the windows as Laila disappeared somewhere in her home.

Riya tilted her head back to see the flowers with a smile.

~#~

Part 4.

#whump #whumpfic #raider #arc: gift #poison #no magical healing #ex as caretaker #emotional whump

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