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morganski-19 · 5 months

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I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 16: Relocation

Apparently when I said it would be a few days late, that really meant a week late. But I'm back now.

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

Present Day, March 1987

Julie wakes up in the middle of the night. Heart racing just a bit, slowing as she readjusts. The memories from last night replay in her mind. It’s all she thinks about. Well, not all.

It’s stupid to even compare these two things. Stupid to have herself thrown back six months and feel the same way all over again. It was the last time she was thrown out of her home unexpectantly. Even if it doesn’t feel like it, it wasn’t that long ago. Her life was uprooted not that long ago.

When her mom died, and she had to move, it felt kind of like this. With a lot more tears, and a lot more pain. But the questions without answers, the spontaneity of it all. It was the same. Julie didn’t plan for it to happen this way. It just happened.

Things in her life just keep happening. But that’s how life works, isn’t it? Things happen, and no one can control it. And when they try to, it just fails anyway. There’s just a force greater than anyone can imagine making life shit for everyone. Breaking apart families, making them lose people they love.

Julie’s not a religious person. Never was. Her mom wasn’t either, not after getting pregnant. It was hard enough being a single mom, she didn’t need more dirty looks. Especially from ones who were supposed to love everyone no matter their sins. It didn’t feel that way most of the time.

If the force that took Julie’s mom away, kicked her out of her childhood home, then the house that just became home, was really all knowing and good, she didn’t believe it anymore. What about the death that’s happened in this town? Everywhere else? What about Steve? Was it really planned for parents to hate their son like this? Kick him out of his house with a bruise on his cheek. That he won’t tell her anything about.

She needs to know that the bruise isn’t because of her. Because he took her in. She can’t be the reason why he’s hurt. It would be too much. Too much that’s been caused because of her. He’s already moving, got a new job, suing his parents. Julie is the catalyst of it all. Even if she wasn’t the cause.

How much peace would Steve have without her here? How much of a disturbance did she really cause?

When they first met, and she was in that foster home, it was easy to take from him. Steve had so much that he was willing to give. Growing up in the life Julie could have had if the tables were turned. It was easy to take some of what she thought she deserved. But then she learned more about him, about his life there. It wasn’t so easy anymore. Julie started to feel like a burden.

Still feels like a burden. Steve has to hide parts of himself in his own home because of her, even though he’s not doing it very well. He had to move into a place that could accommodate her. Go through all this trouble just to keep her around. Act ten years older than he is.

Steve’s still young. Only three years older than her but acting so much older. Taking in so much responsibility as a twenty-year-old. That’s not normal. He should be out parting, meeting new people, making mistakes and learning from them. Instead, he’s stuck in a nine-to-five and coming home to provide for the sister he didn’t even know about six months ago.

Sometimes he acts more like a parent than he should. Julie doesn’t ask for much, she never really did. But it was easy for Steve to slowly fill the void that her mom left. Even if she didn’t realize she was doing it.

Her therapist has been working her through this. He was the first person who mentioned it, causing Julie to spiral. According to him, it was normal and not something that she had to change that much. Just had to realize that’s what was going on. And to make sure she wasn’t holding Steve to a standard that he couldn’t meet.

Steve wasn’t her mom. She knew that. But it was easy to mix the two up when he’s the one providing for her now. Julie didn’t want to ask for more than he could give. It seems like she might have already done that without even realizing it.

She gets up from the now partially deflated air mattress to head to the kitchen. Get a drink and try to calm her mind. One of the lamps is still on in the living room. Illuminating Steve and Eddie, still asleep. Tangled together.

Julie wants to respect Steve’s boundaries and not ask about it again. Or speculate it. But friends don’t fall asleep next to each other like this. Or act like Eddie did last night. Well, maybe Robin would have. It would have just felt more like a sibling relationship. Theirs’s didn’t. It had something more intimate to it. It was very obviously something more.

Steve just wasn’t ready, and she respected that. He just looked so at peace right now. Compared to the level of stress that he normally looked. Compared to last night. It was all gone right now. Started to dissipate as soon as Eddie got there.

Coming out and telling people about this isn’t easy. She knows that. Really knows it. For the past few weeks anyway. So, she knows that pushing them is a bad idea. Especially with the case and all of the uncertainties that surround their lives right now. Being hidden is sometimes better than being out. Definitely in this town.

With them though, with people they trust. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that it could work. They were able to share a bed here without anyone saying anything about it. And no one will say anything if they see them sharing it like this. It’s a known secret at this point.

Part of her is telling her that it’s only a secret because of her, though. Because she caused all the uncertainties of their life. It’s probably not true, but it’s how she feels.

El stirs when Julie goes back to the room. The air mattress squeaking when she sits on it.

“Julie,” El whispers in the dark, voice groggy.

“Sorry, went to get some water.”

El nods, propping herself up on her elbow when the air mattress squeaks again when Julie tries to sit down. “Did it deflate? It does that sometimes.”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“We could share my bed if you wanted to. Me and Max do it all the time, there is enough room.” El sits up, fixing the blankets.

Julie’s heartbeat picks up, she’s not sure why. It’s just El, they’re friends. Her and Mary would share a bed when they had sleepovers back in middle school. This is no different from that.

“Uh yeah, sure.”

El scoots over in the bed, making room for Julie. They lay down next to each other. El facing Julie, while Julie lies on her back. Trying not to feel El’s eyes on her. Julie forces her eyes closed and takes a deep breath, trying to feel normal about this. Because it is. This is totally normal. Why is she making this so weird?

“Can I ask you something? And you cannot be mad at me for asking it.” El asks, still whispering.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Julie really can’t explain why she’s so nervous by that question.

“Are Steve and Eddie dating?”

Julie turns her head towards El, taking a moment to realize how close they are. “They haven’t told me that they are.”

“But that does not mean they are not? They act like they are dating. Everyone keeps talking about it, it is not a secret. I think they work well together.” El stares at Julie in the dark, making her feel something but she’s not quite sure.

“Yeah, yeah I think they do too. If they are actually together. Like I said, they haven’t told me about it yet. But I do know Steve is seeing someone, just couldn’t tell me who it was. Said it was more complicated than it looked.” Julie can’t explain it, but the words keep pouring out of her mouth without her telling them to. She should have stopped speaking way before she did.

El smiles. “I like it when people from our group start dating. Max says it makes more problems, but I think it is sweet. How they found each other through all of the bad that happened.” She makes a face of realization. “Forget what I said, nothing bad happened. Just meeting each other like normal people do. In school. Yeah, we all met in school.”

“Something bad happened?”

If that’s true, a lot of things would start to make sense. Why Steve jumps every time the light flickers or there’s a loud thud. Sometimes when the thunder hits just right. Why Julie has woken up to what seems like a scream but gets told it was nothing the next morning. Why Eddie or Robin magically shows up in the mornings when they weren’t here the night before. Hovering over Steve, either with a scared look in their eye or checking to make sure he’s ok.

Some of the kids do it to. Have some scars that seem a bit too suspicious. More than just a normal injury.

The weird that has been happening in Hawkins these past four years replay in her mind. Connecting dots as fast as she can, trying to make connections. On the surface, there’s nothing there. Except for the fact that this was a peaceful town before four years ago. Each year continuing to get worse and worse. Until last spring scared out half the town’s population.

After what Julie saw that fourth of July, she knew that something was off. Witnessing people walk to their deaths, knowing that they didn’t go to the mall by choice. There was something weird with Hawkins. Maybe El knew about it too? Maybe they all knew about it?

“Well, yeah, there was an earthquake. And the mall fire before that. Bad things happened.” El turns her head, looking at the ceiling.

“I knew about that, obviously. But that’s not all that happened, right? I mean, none of the surrounding areas felt it, and if the ground cracked, they should have. And the fire, I saw some of the people going there that night.” It feels weird to admit that to someone else. But it gets El to turn her head and look at Julie again. “I couldn’t get them to stop moving.”

El’s brows knit together. “I did not know other people saw them go there.”

“It was really scary. I didn’t know until the next morning, but they were walking to their death. There were some people in the crowd that I knew, so I recognized their names when the missing person reports and the obituaries. No matter what I did, it was like they couldn’t hear me, and just kept walking. Like they were possessed.”

El reaches across the small gap between them and grabs Julie’s hand. Making Julie’s fingers feel colder than they were, as they suddenly fill with warmth. She squeezes Julie’s hand, holding it close. “There was more to that night. More that I cannot tell you. I wish I could, but you are better off not knowing. But I am so sorry that you saw a little bit that was happening. And very happy that it did not get to you too.”

“That what didn’t get to me?” Julie turns on her side, fully facing El.

“It is safer for you not to know. Please trust me. Friends don’t lie.”

There is a seriousness in El’s eyes that ages her five years. Suddenly turning her into a brave soldier, instead of just a kid. Julie’s eyes trace her face, reading the fear mixed with experience resting in her muscles. Molded instead of out of place. This isn’t a new expression for El. Somewhere, that breaks Julie.

“Ok, I believe you,” Julie says, ready to change the subject. To see that look melt off of El’s face, hoping to never see it again. Instead, she yawns.

“It is late, we should go to sleep. There is a lot you probably have to do tomorrow. Or today, what time is it?”

Julie shrugs, not wanting to turn to see the clock on the bedside table. “Didn’t look at it when I got up.”

El releases Julie’s hand, making it feel cold again. She pulls the sheets tight around her. “Goodnight.”

“Night.” Julie’s eyes stay open as El’s close, watching as she starts to fall asleep again. She eventually forces her eyes to close, tries to get sleep to come. It doesn’t. Not for a while at least.

There’s something weird with her, mixed with everything else she was already feeling that night. Part of her knows what it is, but she doesn’t want to admit it.

. . .

When Steve looks in the mirror the next morning, he has to relive the fact that the events of the previous night actually happened. That instead of just a normal night stayed at the Byers, it was because he was kicked out of his childhood home. Not because he left on his own accord. Even if he was the one to slam the door behind him.

Just because he was planning to leave, doesn’t mean he was planning to leave like this. With a nice bruise formed above his cheekbone and dried blood on his lip. Bags filled with the rest of his and Julie’s belongings in the living room. The rest in boxes scattered in different locations. Somethings still left behind. Things he’s never getting back.

His mind races to anything left in his car that could come back to bite him. It’s empty, for the most part. Steve knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep the car, it still had his dad’s name on it. It’s why he couldn’t sell it when he was saving up money. The trunk was empty, the baseball bat that would have certainly raised questions in another location. The glove compartment had nothing in it but snacks and a first aid kit. Normal things. The pictures on his sun visor were gone.

He was safe. Why didn’t he feel safe.

This feeling is something Steve knows more than he should. Adrenaline flooding his veins, making him be alert when he just needs to rest. Constricting his chest, making his breaths short and shallow. Counting in for four does nothing when he can only make it to two before his lungs feel like bursting. His muscles tense at every sound, every movement. Pulling him into the ready position. Ready for the next monster to burst through the wall.

There’s a knock at the door, making him jump. Chest thumping with the fast beat of his heart.

“Steve, sweetie,” Joyce’s voice comes through the door. “Breakfast is ready whenever you are.”

Somehow, that breaks Steve out of the spell he was in, realizing the white of his knuckles as they gripped the sink. He lets go, feeling relief. “Ok, I’ll be out in a second.”

He forces a deep breath into his lungs, shutting his eyes so he can’t see his reflection again. Things need to happen today. He needed to get things done today. The Byers are kind enough not to kick them out, but he can’t expect them to let them stay for more than a day or two.

Tomorrow Sarah is going to tell her higherups that they were kicked out. Let them decide if Julie needs to be moved again. Strip away the home that they’ve been building for the past few months. Making Steve have to start over all over again. He can’t start over again.

So these feelings, this churn in his stomach, they can’t stay. After the door closes behind him, so does the chest holding everything in. There will be a time where he can process all that happened, why he’s feeling like this. But now is not that time.

Maybe never will be the time.

When Steve sits down at the table, he’s hyperaware on the way he’s acting. Making sure his posture is the same as it always is. Unbothered, relaxed. When nothing is relaxed. He smiles at Joyce when she brings him a plate, thanking her. Makes conversation with them, greets Will when he gets back from Mike’s. Acts perfectly normal. To most of them at least.

Julie stares at him from a few spots down. Waiting for him to mention anything from the previous night. Eddie reaches under the table to squeeze his thigh, silently asking if he’s alright. Steve brushes it off, insisting that he’s fine.

Because he is fine, why wouldn’t he be?

After breakfast he makes some calls. Somehow, the papers were filed faster than he thought and he’s able to pick up the keys tomorrow morning. Just in time. He changes his contact information with a few places, making a mental note to do it at work his next shift.

Then, he just sits. Feeling unfamiliar in his body. Trying so hard to release the tension that feels sewn into his muscles. Wondering if he breathes deep enough, it will pressure his heart to stop jumping at every motion. Every sound. Stop his mind from racing between synapses without purpose. Snapping to snapshots of moments he’d rather not remember.

The face of his father as he yelled. The disappointment in his mother’s glare. The pain in both their smiles, perfectly molded for photographs. But one look in real life shows the cracks in their composure. They never smiled at him with true intentions, just to keep up the mask.

Memories he’s repressed all come flooding back. Screams of his parents fighting. Hands sore from how hard they clutch his knees to his chest. Hiding away, thinking that it would stop them. That if he went far enough away, he wouldn’t hear them anymore.

That was accomplished. He finally ran away. Somewhere not that far, but they won’t care enough to come find. He should be happy.

Every time Steve thinks that his parents don’t have any hold of him anymore, something happens. Smacks him just right across the face as a little reminder that he is nothing more than a product of them. Something for them to sculp into the perfect accessory. To look at but never really love.

It hurts. Scars on the outside are gruesome, but it is the ones lashed into his heart that sting. Dark in the night, when the silence creeps into his ears, reminding him of every wrong he’s ever done. Of the disappointment that he truly is.

Robin said something to him once that made him put things into perspective. Life is what changes people, makes them who they really are. It is the people that choose to stay that make the impact. The deciding factor. Back then, those words made him feel some sort of peace.

Now, it’s pulling him down to the same question that’s plagued his mind for years. Maybe his entire life. Why wasn’t he enough for them to stay?

Why is he enough for anyone to stay?

Sometime later, he’s not exactly sure, Eddie moves from beside him. Standing in front of Steve with his hand outstretched, waiting for him to take it.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Steve takes it, gripping it harder than he should. The familiarity giving him some peace of mind. Making the train stop in its tracks for a moment. Before it starts moving again.

“Woods or street?” Eddie asks when they get outside.

“Woods,” Steve finds himself saying. He won’t have to let go of Eddie’s hand if they are in the woods.

Eddie nods, leading Steve around the house and into the woods. Walking forward without direction. The same way he walked straight into Steve’s heart. Nothing was planned, it just happened. Even when Steve does plan things, it doesn’t stop anything else from happening.

“You want to tell me what’s been keeping you in your head all day?”

Steve knows that he doesn’t mean it to be pushy, but the words come off that way. No matter how softly they are said. Steve just shakes his head no.

Eddie nods again, letting them walk in silence. Just keep walking.

So many things have happened in these woods. Fights, searches. Life. Growth. In some ways, everything started here for Steve. One event that took place in these woods changing the course of his life forever. For the better, he says most of the time. But was it really for the better?

If it weren’t for monsters lurking in these woods, Steve would be the person he was four years ago. Young and stupid. Not knowing much about the world around him, but that didn’t matter. His brain was healthy, his ears worked right, and his eyesight wasn’t as blurry. His mind was anxious about normal things, like college, and grades, rather than something lurking the dark ready to kill him. Take the people he loves away from him. It never happened directly to him, yet he still feared it.

His torso wasn’t littered with scars that made him wince when he looked at himself in the mirror. There wouldn’t be a scar around his neck that made people do a double take. Blood wouldn’t rush at the flickers of lights and clashes of thunder. He would be able to enjoy looking at fireworks again, or a roaring campfire.

Life would be simpler. It would be different. Maybe then, he would have gotten into college. Made his dad proud for once. Be on the path to greatness just like he was supposed to. With a sports scholarship under his belt that he didn’t really need, but it didn’t hurt.

Maybe then he would have finally been enough.

A tear rolls down Steve’s cheek without him realizing it. Years of unprocessed trauma resting behind the gates. No matter how many tears were shed, it’s never enough to heal the wounds. All of his wounds.

At the end of all of it, Steve’s tired. Tired of the what ifs and endless possibilities. Tired of fighting with everything including his own thoughts. Beating back self-deprecation until it fights back enough to knock him out for a while. Wondering what life could have been if he walked away when he had the chance. He’s the only one who was ever really given that chance.

The kids lost their friend, so did Nancy. Joyce lost a son. Jonathan lost a brother. Hopper had a job to do. Max, even if she had a choice in the beginning, would have always been wrapped up into this because of Billy. Robin just wanted to help Steve and Dustin solve a puzzle. Eddie saw people die before his eyes. El was made for this.

Steve, he had a choice to make. Leave or go back into the house and fight for something that was worth it. Somehow, Steve always ends up fighting. Did he really want to this time? The damage was done, he didn’t want their money. What was the point of all of this really? To settle some score? Prove who the bigger man was?

Eddie stops them when they get to a small clearing, pulling Steve into a hug. Holding him close with a deep breath, making Steve do the same.

“I don’t know what your head’s been telling you, but you should know it’s not true. Whatever it is.”

Steve sighs. “I’m just so tired. I don’t even know why I’m fighting with them anymore.”

There’s a rustle a few feet away, paired with whispered swears. Robin comes into view, half tripping over a stray branch. “You guys really had to go wandering through the woods with nothing to communicate with. And you couldn’t have waited for me to get there first.”

Steve snorts. “I didn’t even know you were coming over.”

She walks over to them. “Yeah well, when your best friend gets kicked out, says he’ll call you the next morning, and then doesn’t, you start to worry. Your head being a bitch to you again?”

“Sort of.”

“Alright then, make room for me in this hug. Don’t make it weird, please.” She forces her way underneath Steve and Eddie’s arms to hug the both of them. Making a sort of triangle. Steve’s suddenly really glad that she’s here.

A breath releases from Steve. One filled with relief. Finally releasing the band around his chest. More tears sneak out of his eyes as his body finally relaxes. The adrenaline fading, reality sinking in. Weight returning to where it rests on his shoulders. The expected freedom is nowhere to be seen.

The reality is crushing him.

A choked sob causes Eddie and Robin to hold him tighter. As tight as they can in this configuration. Steve doesn’t know what he did to deserve these two. Doesn’t know how he got them to stay. But as everything came crashing down around him, they’re still here. He has barely anything to his name. Just a small house with a large loan, a shitty retail job, and a whole bunch of traumas that follows him around. But instead of running, they’re still here. They stayed with him.

Somehow, Steve is now on the ground. Wiping away tears as Robin rubs his back. As Eddie holds his hand. He feels the need to apologize but knows that they’ll yell at him for it. Still, the words rest on his tongue. But he stays silent, focusing on his breathing. Calming himself down.

“Feel better?” Robin asks softly. “It looked like the floodgates were pushed open.”

Steve lets out a wet laugh. “They kind of did. I think everything just came out at once.”

“Yeah, well, you went through a lot yesterday.” Eddie rakes a hand through Steve’s hair, getting it out of his face. “It has to come out somehow.”

Robin makes a small gasp. Probably finally seeing Steve’s face unobstructed. She looks towards Eddie, getting confirmation with a small nod. “Is there anything you wanted to talk about in particular, or none of it at all? Want me to tell you about something random just so your mind can shut up?”

“I feel.” Steve pauses to find the words. “I feel like I’m always fighting. Whether it’s the upside down shit, or myself, or my parents, it’s always a fight. I kind of just want to stop it all. And this case, it’s solid but is it worth it if I’m just going to feel like shit all over again?”

“This was always because you wanted to do it, but if you don’t want to do it anymore, you don’t have to,” Robin assures.

Steve picks at the grass. “I don’t know anymore.”

“You can always think about it. There’s time to back out of this, the court date hasn’t even been set yet.” Eddie shifts to sit next to Steve, wrapping an arm around his back.

Robin sits on the other side of him, leaning against his side. “Yeah. Fight, no fight. You still got us to go through it with you. Just take one step at a time.”

“My next step is finding beds for us to sleep in. I get the keys tomorrow and we need to move in kind of immediately.”

“Trip to the thrift store,” Robin gasps. “I love the thrift store.”

“Which one, the one on Mulberry next to the Laundromat or center of town?” Eddie asks.

Robin fake gags. “Not the one on Mulberry, the owner creeps me out. The one in the center of town, it has really good stuff.”

“Yeah, only after you search for four hours,” Steve snorts. “How long did it take you to find, ‘the right sweater,’” he mimics.

“That’s irrelevant. Seriously though, are we going? It might not have the best stuff, but you won’t be sleeping on air mattresses.”

“Maybe in a bit. I just want to sit here for a while longer.”

Eddie presses a kiss to the side of Steve’s head. “As long as you need.”

Steve kind of wishes that they could stay there for the rest of the day. Hidden from the rest of the world by the trees, listening to the calmness around them. But he has things to do. He doesn’t have to do them alone this time.

. . .

The next morning, Steve and Eddie are gone when Julie wakes up. Joyce says they have to go pick up some things and will be back around lunchtime. When they come back, everyone gets into their cars to go pick up some boxes. Boxes from the Byers’, Henderson’s, Munson’s and Buckley’s all being loaded into cars and brought over to the knew house.

Their new house.

Julie sees all the madness happening around her, as the boxes get brought and placed on the mismatched furniture Steve scrambled to get yesterday and this morning. Wondering if moving is always like this. Bare walls and empty rooms. Nothing but belongings packed in boxes and empty dressers, cabinets, drawers. All waiting to be filled. Waiting for a house to be made into a home.

Moving was something Julie never experienced until a year ago. And it wasn’t happy then. Just a reminder that she had to leave the place she grew up in without a choice. Without the person who always made her feel safe. It was all stripped away too soon.

Then the next place that gave her a bed to sleep in was terrible. Making sleeping on a park bench in the cold much better than sleeping in a bed. Until Steve offered for her to stay, and she took it. Finding something that could resemble the home she once knew. It was close, but never just quite right.

This place, it was everything that her mom ever wanted. The purpose of fruitless savings jars. Counting every penny from tips and saving everything that they didn’t need for bills. Only for it to get lost anyway, either from her mom’s vices or her boyfriend stealing it all.

But here, now, it’s almost like Julie can still feel her mom’s presence in this house. Feel a presence watching her every move. Smiling as the room slowly becomes hers. As this place becomes Julie’s knew home. It doesn’t feel so empty anymore.

Maybe this is how it’s always going to be from now on. The little twinge in her heart making her think of her mom. See her in all the little things around her. Making it all feel bittersweet. She’s still here, even if it’s not in the same house they lived in. Even if she isn’t here anymore. Julie will always have her mom.

Unpacking is chaotic. There’re too many people and everyone keeps putting things away without asking where either of them wants them. Just to get them out of the boxes. That won’t make it easier when they have to rearrange everything later. But things are better sitting inside of cabinets so they can use the counters to place more boxes. Things have to move so they don’t get stuck.

Luckily for her, Julie can just focus on her room. Steve found an old bedframe at a thrift store that got set up in her room and an old dresser that squeaks when you open the drawers, if they open at all. It’s fine for now, and it can be fixed. A lot of these things can be fixed. The only new thing in her room is the mattress, because apparently Robin insisted that they get a new one because of all the bugs that can live in there.

El’s there helping her unpack. Brought a few things for some decorations too since Julie lost some of the decorations in her room. For the second time now. But now there’s some photos on the wall of the group together, and a few movie and band posters. It’s not quite right yet, but it’s getting there.

A few hours later, the Byers’ leave, and Steve and Eddie go get some pizza. Leaving Julie and Robin to unpack the last of the boxes and set up a folding table and some chairs for them to eat on.

“Could I ask you a weird question?” There’s been something gnawing in Julie’s mind for a few days now, making her feel weird. Something she really doesn’t know how to put into words or ask Steve about. But Robin would know.

“Yeah sure,” Robin says while snapping open a folding chair.

Julie picks at the skin around her thumbs. “How did you know you were a lesbian? Like, that you liked girls?”

Robin freezes in shock, before relaxing with a small smile. “I’d say this is a couch kind of conversation, but we don’t have one yet, so how about the floor?”

“Floor’s fine.”

They sit down in the makeshift pile of pillows and blankets that’s acting as a couch. Julie staring down at her hands, nervous. She’s been feeling weird for a while now, and kind of knows why. But there are questions she can’t answer. Feelings she doesn’t want to believe are true.

“So, to answer your question, I think a part of me always knew I liked girls. When I was really young, I might have not realized that is what it was. And when all the other girls were talking about their crushes in elementary and middle school, I would just think they were so weird because boys were gross. I didn’t like boys the way that they liked boys. It wasn’t until middle school that I realized that I thought about girls the way other girls thought about boys.”

“Oh,” is all Julie can say.

Robin nods. “Yeah, that’s kinda when all the pieces clicked into place. After that, it was the denial and the trying to get it away. Act like everyone else did. But it never went away. I kept getting crushes on girls and was a total mess around them. Over time, I accepted it. Embraced it. As much as I could in this town. Now, I’m really proud of the person I am and have an amazing girlfriend. It’s who I am.”

“And you never felt weird about any of it? Like, something was different, and you just couldn’t figure out what it was.”

She remembers the feeling that she had two nights ago. When her and El talked in the middle of the night. How things just kept happening, and she felt so weird. Something was off.

Some of the things Robin said were true. Julie never really had a crush on any boys. On anyone, really. Sometimes, she would lie and just say she had a crush on a random guy in her class. Just to fake normalcy. When really, none of the boys ever caught her eye. What did, she never said aloud.

But it was a trend that she couldn’t ignore anymore. How girls would walk down the hall and Julie would find herself turning her head. Lying and just saying she liked their outfit. It wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t exactly the truth. And then there would be the continuous thoughts of someone in her class that would never go away. No matter how hard she tried. And she tried. So hard.

Julie was already the daughter of a single mother that drank her problems instead of dealing with them. No father, no money, nothing. She didn’t need to be the weird kid that liked girls too. So she wasn’t. Until she was.

The pieces clicked, just like Robin said they did. They did a while ago. But like a lot of things, Julie pushed them away to be dealt with later. There was so much more to worry about. Get angry about. She didn’t need to get angry at herself too.

Looking back now, Julie did have crushes. Ones that didn’t make much sense in her young mind, or ones that she just shoved off thinking it was jealousy. It was easier to pretend it didn’t exist rather than face the music. But when asked if she had a crush on someone, it was always a girl’s name that rested on the tip of her tongue that she swallowed down and forgot.

Robin lets out a small laugh. “All the damn time. I think mainly before I accepted it all.” After a break of silence, Robin asks, “Are you feeling a bit weird?”

Julie nods, pulling her knees close to her chest. “For a while now. But my life was so full of so many other things that it was easy for me to ignore it. It’s not so easy to ignore anymore.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Robin sighs.

“And I just,” Julie struggles to find the words. “If what I’m feeling is what I think it is, I just don’t want to screw up what I have.”

Robin takes a deep breath. “Did Steve ever tell you how we became friends?”

Julie shakes her head.

“Well, the story is really long and complicated, and there’s things that I can’t really share. But the short of it all is that we worked together at an ice cream shop called Scoops Ahoy back when the mall was still standing.”

“I remember that place, those outfits were terrible.”

Robin laughs. “Yeah, they were. But that’s how we met. We really became friends while hiding out in a bathroom and I told him I had a crush on a girl named Tammy Thompson. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. I didn’t know how he was going to react, especially since it was also a rejection. But he took it like a champ and made me feel comfortable with someone knowing this big secret I’ve kept for years. And now he’s my best friend, and I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Was it hard?”

“It was and it wasn’t. Telling anyone in this town about being queer is hard, because you don’t really know how they’re going to react. Hell, most of the town has Reagan signs out on their lawns. So that made it hard. But it was also really easy. The thing about Steve is he’s really caring and accepting about the people he cares about. He wasn’t always, at least it didn’t seem like it. But somehow, he grew up and became the person we both know and love. He might joke and be bitchy sometimes, but deep down, he cares more than he’d like to admit.”

Julie smiles. “Yeah, I know.”

“There were a few other people that were easy to tell too,” Robin continues. “Eddie, obviously. You and Dustin in the car. And Nancy, which was harder for a different reason.”

Julie stays quiet, patiently listening.

“It was different with Nancy because I had the worst, biggest, ginormous crush on her when I told her. I needed to know that she was ok with this part of me before I could even think of telling her about it. It was just as scary as you think it was. But after those words left my mouth, Nancy just smiled and gave me a hug, and the biggest weight was off my chest. Few months later, I had the courage to tell her how I really felt, and then we started dating.”

“You guys were friends before you started dating right?”

Robin nods. “I was so scared that she wouldn’t like me back, and I would ruin everything.”

Julie nods, letting the words sink in. She’s not alone in this. “I’m kind of there right now, I think. Actually, I’m not really sure. Just. Something happened and it made me feel really weird, but I can’t tell if it’s because of the other things happening in my life or if it is a crush.”

“And this crush, if that is what it is, is that about a girl?” Robin asks softly. “You don’t have to tell me, of course. Only if you want to.”

She takes a second before nodding. “Yeah,” Julie whispers. “Yeah, it’s about a girl.”

Saying it out loud makes it all real. Heart dropping to her stomach as her breathing increases. This was real. She was like this. Nerves fill her, making her want to cry. Some part out of relief, the rest out of panic. There was no coming back from it now.

Robin notices her change in demeanor, scooting closer and placing a hand on Julie’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” Julie whispers into her knees.

“Yeah, that’s kind of how it went for me too.”

Tears start to well up in Julie’s eyes. Today’s already been a lot, now this. She feels arms wrap around her, holding her together. If Robin can do this, like girls and be happy, Julie can too. It’s just so much right now.

The keys jingle in the door before it creaks open. Julie pulls her head out of her knees and wipes her eyes. Robin shifts a little away from her. Both of them trying to act normal.

“Pizza’s here,” Steve says as he places it on the makeshift kitchen table. He looks at Julie, before turning his head to Robin. Julie doesn’t know what she does, but Steve just nods and doesn’t say anything.

That night, Julie sleeps in her new room. The unfamiliarity of it all freaking her out a bit. She’ll get used to it eventually.

The confession from earlier still weighs in her mind. Only one face finding her mind when she closes her eyes.

. . .

March 1986

In the middle of the night, the trailer starts rattling. Glasses clanking together in the kitchen, books falling off of Julie’s shelves. A large clash comes from the living room, followed by a string of loud swears. Julie jumps out of bed, stumbling down the hall. The floor shaking beneath her feet.

This has never happened before. Sure, the trailer sometimes shook during a thunderstorm. But never like this. This was so different.

“Mom,” she calls out.

Her mom stands from the floor. “Stay right there. Don’t move.”

Julie looks at the kitchen, glass covering the floor. The living room is a mess, tv lying flat on the floor, decorations fallen off of tables and shelves. Rebecca pulls Julie into the bathroom, holding her under the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Julie asks frantically.

“I don’t know,” her mom responds. Trying to stay calm but the fear can’t be hidden in her words.

Just as it started, everything stops. An eerie silence fills the trailer for a few minutes. Until doors start to open, and screams come from outside. Rebecca grabs a flashlight and puts on her shoes.

“Stay in here ok, we don’t know what’s going on outside.” She leaves Julie alone in the trailer.

Julie’s heart thumps in her chest as she tries to control her breathing. What just happened? An earthquake? There were almost never earthquakes here. And if there were, it was just the remnants of one from farther away. What could have shaken the trailer so hard it forced cabinets open and made a mess of the floor.

Stepping carefully, Julie heads to the front door to put on her shoes. So, she doesn’t accidentally step on some glass. Stepping on the couch, she opens the window to look outside. Gasping at the scene in front of her.

The earth was split in a mound of broken gravel and dirt that seemed to spread for miles. Trailers split in two, dead being pulled out of the rubble. People frantically rushing around, trying to grab what they can and help who needs it. Sirens blare in the distance, some speeding right past the trailer park, some pulling in. Ambulances filled one after the other and more pass in both directions on the main street.

Julie opens the door and steps on to the creaky porch. More of the boards broken than normal.

“Max,” Mrs. Mayfield screams into the night. “Max, where are you?”

Julie sees her mom run over to her. “Susan. Susan, calm down.”

“I don’t know where she is.”

Julie hasn’t seen Max in days. Having left with some friends to hang out with over the break. She hasn’t been here. Unless she was part of the group that stole that RV. Julie could have sworn it was her.

Rebecca brings Susan into the house, ushering Julie back inside. Somehow makes some tea in the kitchen. Using one of the few mugs that don’t have cracks in them. Trying to keep calm away from the chaos happening outside.

In the morning, the news stories flood in. Streets split down the middle with destruction. Half of the houses pristine while the others are unrecognizable. All meeting at the town hall, marking the town with an “X”. Warning all who enter.

Then the people start to leave. Those without homes, those with. All packing up their minivans and cars with what they deem most important. Leaving the rest to be labeled as abandoned. The high school becomes a shelter. Full of donations and people the hospital doesn’t have a bed for.

Explanations are given but they don’t answer questions. People are found while others stay missing. First responders search through rubble, slowly crossing names off a list. The graveyards get their new residents by the dozen.

Hawkins becomes something of a ghost town.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet, @steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy, @connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso, @crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther,

#stranger things #stranger things au #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #julie lawson #el hopper #joyce byers #steddie #long lost/secret sibling #secret sibling au #i don't know which ways home fic

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ljandersen · 11 months

Note

whats ur status on sideways 👀? No joke i think abt it daily.

Thank you for reaching out, Anon! It means a lot to me, knowing that a story I wrote is thought about every day. I think about it every day, too, being the author! It's still the story I'm proudest to have written.

As for the status on Sideways, it currently exists as a hand-written, rough first draft stored in a fire-proof safe. It needs massive changes -- complete scene rewrites and a ton of new scenes (mostly for the paragon timeline). It's currently on my back burner while I focus on an original project.

All the adjustments I made editing the 750k words in Part 1-4 has culminated in a major undertaking editing Part 5.

For instance, the reason Shepard joins the Alliance on Rannoch is different after my changes in Part 4. Before, I didn't have a very good reason for her being there and, because of that peripheral role, she wasn't directly involved in a lot of the things happening. Now she's acting Counselor. She's front and center.

It's a good change, the right change, which is why I did it. However, now a lot of the plot-centric happenings, which were only heard about or referenced through another character, need full scenes with Shepard being impactful and altering the outcomes (much better than being a removed observer).

This will require several new scenes and throwing out old ones that are now unnecessary. Then I need to relocate any extra bits of vital information not in the new scene, to other places in the story.

In addition to whole new scenes, I need to majorily revise whole scenes. There's a party scene on Rannoch, which now the goal behind it and what Shepard is doing during it, has changed. That series of scenes need rewritten.

That example of Shep's purpose on Rannoch changing scenes downstream is just one -- and a mostly spoiler free one -- of the dozens of changes I need to accomodate.

Also, the paragon timeline in particular requires a lot of new writing, maybe 50 k words of new scenes (so, the equivalent of a full novel).

Toward the end of writing the first draft of Sideways, I was starting to get worn down. Writing four storylines sometimes made it feel like I was spending weeks going nowhere, because I wasn't moving forward in the main Renegade timeline. Because of that frustration and wanting to reach the end, I chose to focus less on the paragon timeline, knowing I would need to add more to it during the editing. I left myself with some major work to do on that storyline to do it justice.

All of those reasons aside, the main reason Sideways Part 5 isn't ready is because I shifted focus for the time being. I'm serializing an original sci fi series and trying to establish myself an author. I intended to do this after I finished posting Sideways, but with the emergence of AI, I don't think the opportunity will be there for me if I wait.

Visibility for writing is going to become impossible and slow human writers, like me, will be washed away under the tide of AI mega production. There's an influential author in the indie world, for example, who has stated his intention to produce 10k novels a year, on par with the big publishing houses. That's one person, who with a handful of contractors previously put out a few dozen books a year, if that many, who now intends to do 10k a year!

My opportunity to find readers is now, while AI is still clunky and not universal, before people selling a back catalog of 100k books and with the ad spending to match drive human writers out of the market.

Because of this new priority, I've had to funnel my creativity and focus into my original writing. I'm not someone who can do two things at once. I'm all in on one project at a time. That's probably apparent from my fanfic, where I've only posted one WIP at a time, start to finish before the next. I can't divide my passion on concurrent WIP.

That doesn't mean I don't think about Sideways though -- I do, daily! -- and I intend to finish it. For now, though, unfortunately, Sideways is a draft in some notebooks in a safe. It's not a simple undertaking to edit it, and I need to focus on a personal goal.

Your interest in Sideways is something I treasure, though, and appreciate beyond words. I'm so glad my story isn't forgotten. I love knowing it's still on readers' minds. It makes me feel like, what had so much meaning to me as its writer, truly must carry that meaning through to the reader, too, which is the greatest joy in sharing a story.

Thank you for taking time to check in on Sideways and for letting me know how much it still means to you.

Also, here is a picture of my new puppy as a tiny consolation for not having Sideways ready:

#my writing #ask #anon ask #on sideways

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bethanythebogwitch · 6 months

Text

Digimon fanfic chapter 6 draft

Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Andrew was fighting not to let his temper get the best of him, but it seemed like a losing battle at this rate. What should have been a simple mission to retrieve the second of two artifacts needed for his plan to work was proving incredibly frustrating. Apparently back when the Digital World was returning to its correct state after being twisted into Spiral Mountain, the artifact had ended up underneath a rather large city. The dwellers of the city had rejected Andrew’s perfectly reasonable offer to relocate and allow excavation to begin in exchange for a better city once he had begun his new world order. Thus, Andrew had no choice but to order the D-Brigade to drive them out and begin excavating by force. Unfortunately, the local Digimon had proved illogically attached to the place and quite a few of them were of the Ultimate level, making what should have been a decisive victory into a painful campaign of the D-Brigade defending the excavation site against the attackers.

“When the D-Brigade approached me with an offer of an alliance,” he said to the assembled officers, assembled here during a lull in the fighting, “I never would have thought that the greatest army in the Digital World would be delayed this long by civilians.” He emphasized the last word to really irritate the officers, knowing they wouldn’t try to speak out. He was the D-Brigade’s client and to the Brigade, the client’s word is law. After giving the brigaders a few seconds to stew, Andrew demanded a situation report.

“Captain Hi-Commandramon 8A5 reporting sir,” one of the soldiers spoke up. “The enemy’s numbers are vastly reduced, but the survivors are regrouping to the west. We believe they are preparing for a final strike. The excavation is expected to finish soon, but we will have to pull workers away to defend against the next strike.”

“Fine,” said Andrew, even though the news of yet another delay infuriated him. “But this is the last time. I want those Digimon exterminated today. Dismissed!” He turned and left the meeting before anyone could object.

“Will we be joining the fight?” Asked Green. Andrew’s partner Digimon had become much more quiet and driven in recent weeks. That suited Andrew just fine.

“Of course we are. I want this done right.”

What happened next was Andrew’s least favorite part. Waiting. He craved action, progress, anything other than waiting. He was so close to the power that would let him build his new world and yet he was forced to wait instead. It was infuriating. Over an hour later, something finally happened when the D-Brigade sounded the alarm. The attack was coming.

“Finally! Let’s go, Green.”

Green nodded. “On it.”

Dracomon Digivolve to… Coredramon! Coredramon Digivolve to… Groundramon!

Andrew rode the colossal dragon into the battle. Little was left of the city, the mismatched buildings and wide boulevards having been reduced to rubble and crater-strewn fields. Green knocked a few of the skeletal building frames down as he charged through the city, his sheer size rendering him unable to maneuver around them, if he even wanted to. The sound of gunfire led the pair to the battle. Cresting a ridge, Andrew gazed down on the battle to see…

“That’s it?” The Hi-Commandramon had said that the enemy’s forces were reduced, but Andrew was certainly expecting more than this. There were barely a dozen of them. Two were Ultimates, yes, but there was no way they could stand up against the D-Brigade’s forces. They would be slaughtered.

“They couldn’t have thought they’d win. Why bother attacking if they’re just going to die?” Andrew asked in genuine confusion.

“What could be more noble than to die in defiance of injustice?” asked an unknown voice.

“Who’s there?” Green’s voice boomed out, his long neck twisting to look around him.

There before them, a tornado of fire appeared from nowhere. After a moment, the fire dissipated. Standing in a scorched circle of earth was a Digimon in the shape of a human man, tiny compared to Green. It was adorned in silver, shimmering armor, a deep, purple cape, and a pointed hat. In one hand was a sword and the other clutched a crystal ball. Andrew recognized it. Mistymon, the apparent leader of the city’s forces and a major thorn in Andrew’s side.

Green growled, the sheer volume vibrating the rubble around him, but Mistymon did not strike. Instead, it spoke again. “We know we cannot win against you and your army. We know we will die. But we will die standing. For as long as anyone in the Digital World is willing to stand, people like you will never win and justice will prevail.”

Green’s growling increased in volume and his muscles tensed, clearly eager to jump into the fight, but he waited for Andrew to give the word. Though the dragon had grown much more violent and eager to fight since their return to the Digital World, Green obeyed Andrew without question.

“Justice is what this is all about,” Andrew said. “I will gain the power to control both worlds and I will correct every injustice by force.”

“Where is the justice in coming to a place of peace and demanding its people leave?” asked Mistymon. “Where is the justice in slaughtering the innocent when they stand in defense of the homes they loved and the community they built?”

“If you had just taken me up on my offer none of this would have happened. This is on you,” Andrew shot back.

Mistymon’s voice finally cracked, losing its tone of calm and letting the anger within show. “Your justice is false! You claim to correct injustice but commit atrocities to do so? You are just another tyrant, and like all tyrants you shall fall! If not by my hand, then another! Now come! I will fight your tyranny until my deletion!” Mistymon’s sword burst into flames at it pointed the blade at Andrew in challenge.

Green roared, understanding Andrew’s unspoken command. He charged forward like an earthquake, rushing at the other Digimon. Both of his massive clawed wings shot down, going for the kill, but Mistymon leapt into the air, avoiding the blow.

“Core Dart!” Mistymon’s crystal ball burst into flames and shot forward, aiming not toward Green, but toward Andrew.

“Green!” Andrew yelled, but his partner was already moving. Green leapt to one side to avoid the flaming projectile, but it adjusted its trajectory, once again targeting the human. Green was forced once again to move. Impossibly nimble for his size, he turned around so the call was coming at him from the front.

“Scrapless Claw!” Both of Green’s massive arm-wings slammed together, the crystal ball between them. His strength crushed the projectile to dust, but not without cost. Wis claws parted again, each had a large, circular burn scar where the flaming sphere had been crushed.

“Blast Fire!” The Mistymon leapt onto Green’s back and embedded its flaming sword to the hilt in the base of one of his wings. The limb went limp as Green roared in pain. Not wasting a moment, Mistymon pulled its sword out and charged right at Andrew. Andrew threw his hands in front of him, a reflex that would be utterly useless against an Ultimate-level Digimon, and gritted his teeth, convinced he was about to die.

Green reacted before Mistymon’s sword could reach his target. His remaining wing slammed into the ground, the force spinning him over in an airborne barrel roll. Andrew, in tune with his partner, was able to grab onto the edges of a scale the size of a manhole cover just in time. Mistymon was not so lucky and was sent hurtling to the ground. Having come full circle, Green landed on his feet and shot forward, getting into position.

“Megaton Hammer Crush!” The massive mace that tipped Green’s tail slammed down on the prone Mistymon with enough force to knock down any of the building remnants that still remained standing. Green turned around, allowing him and Andrew to see the broken body of Mistymon lying in the newly-created crater. It’s mouth cracked open just long enough to speak.

“You will never win.” With that, Mistymon’s body dissolved into data and it was gone.

Green lowered himself into a crouch, allowing Andrew to slide off his back and onto the ground. As soon as the human’s feet touched the ground, Green collapsed and de-Digivolved back into Dracomon.

“Are you going to be ok?” There was no concern in Andrew’s voice, none of the love that there should be between a DigiDestined and their partner. To him, Green was another asset, nothing more.

Green winced and examined the wound on his back, the remnant of where Mistymon had stabbed him. “I’ll heal.”

“Good,” said Andrew, before his attention was drawn away. Three flares shot into the sky, a D-Brigade signal. All three were blue. Victory.

Three hours later, Andrew stood along the edge of the massive pit the Brigade had dug into what was once a city center and grinned. Finally.

“Your orders, sir?” Asked a Hi-Commandramon. Andrew couldn’t be bothered to remember which one.

“Hook it up to a Cargodramon and prepare to head back to base,” Andrew said, his voice full of glee. “We finally found it.”

“Andrew?” Green asked, returning from the D-Brigade medical tent with his wound patched.

Andrew glazed at his partner, then turned his gaze back to his prize. “There it is, Green. The data remnant of a Dark Master. And now it’s finally mine.”

Green looked down into the pit to see D-Brigade members already hard at work strapping cables to the artifact they had fought this small war for. Even in this state, the severed claw of Machinedramon looked deadly.

--------

Blue, in his Wingdramon form, once again flew over the desert with three humans and one foul-mouthed Digimon in his arms. Clark had estimated that this would be the last full day of flight before reaching the edge of the desert and finally finding the Subroutine Jungle. He hadn’t said much else this morning. He was too busy arguing with himself.

You haven’t been to this part of the desert in a long time, one part of him said. You couldn’t have known that a lunatic Bombermon would claim the place for itself in the last few months.

You let everyone down again, countered another part. Once again you put everyone in danger by camping in a Digimon’s territory and Tsukaimon and Keiko had to bail you out again.

Clark was shaken out of his thoughts by Blue’s voice. “Something’s coming towards us. Fast.”

Clark looked up, but it took him a few seconds to spot what the Ultimate-level Digimon’s superior eyesight had. A black speck in the distant sky that was growing larger.

An enemy? It could be some wild Digimon, but it’s best to play it safe. There’s no way the D-Brigade will leave us alone after we defied their orders and killed a Cargodramon. Still, why would they only send one soldier after us?

“Change course,” Clark yelled to be heard over the rushing wind.

Blue obliged, tilting his wings to fly to the left. The thing in the distance changed course as well, aiming directly towards them. That settled it, this thing was coming after them.

“Set us down!”

Blue obliged, arcing downward to the desert. He dropped his passengers in a field of stone arches that were coated with Christmas lights.

“You think that thing’s coming for us? Asked Daniel.

“Gotta be,” replied Clark. “Get ready for a fight.”

“Alright, Keiko, let’s do this,” Tsukaimon said to her partner. Keiko nodded and held up her Digivice.

Tsukaimon Digivolve to… Witchmon! Witchmon Digivolve to… Bastemon!

The two Ultimate-level Digimon ran forward, leaving the humans safely behind. Between the two of them,

-------

Orders: locate and eliminate targets Target: three humans and two Digimon Enemies of the D-Brigade The D-Brigade? Follow orders Who am Special unit Darkdramon 1G1 of the D-Brigade What’s going on? The orders are absolute Follow Orders

--------

Clark didn’t recognize the Digimon as it flew close enough to be seen. It was long-tailed humanoid and mostly mechanical, though flesh was visible through the joints and a shock of red hair indicated it was actually a cyborg. Its body was covered in black and deep blue armor, accented with yellow. From its back extended wings of light and on its right arm was a mechanical lance. The Digimon came to a hover and seemed to examine Blue and Bastemon, before turning its head to look at the humans.

---------

Analyzing Consistent with targets Begin mission What mission Eliminate enemies of the D-Brigade Why can’t I think Thinking is irrelevant Follow Orders Who is that Target acquired Engage

----------

“Listen, big boy, just go on your way and we won’t give you trouble,” Bastemon shouted toward the hovering Digimon, which looked back at her.

“Do you think he’s gonna leave us alone?” asked Blue.

The Digimon suddenly jerked, its motion unnatural. A half second of that concluded with it roaring at the top of its lungs.

“Does that answer your question?” Bastemon leapt forward at the Digimon, claws at the ready.

“Dark Roar!” From the enemy Digimon’s mouth spewed forth inky black spheres. Blue’s wings flared out and he lifted up in the air to avoid them, while Bastemon was forced to twist awkwardly to avoid being hit. The orbs impacted the rocky desert floor and kept going, seemingly deleting the matter they hit and leaving behind tunnels extending downward into the earth.

“Holy-! Blue, do not let that hit you!” Bastemon yelled. Her heart had skipped a beat realizing that if she hadn’t managed to dodge just in time there would now be a massive hole right through her chest. Digimon were born for battle, but she had never been as close to death as she was right then. What was this Digimon?

Blue flew high in the sky, the enemy’s head tracking his movement. “Blaze Sonic Breath!” A lance of superheated fire burst forth from his mouth at the enemy- who suddenly wasn’t there anymore.

“Gigastick Lance.” Blue’s eyes widened and he shot forward, leaving a sonic boom in his wake. The Digimon had somehow gotten right behind him and stabbed at him with that lance. Only going supersonic had saved him from being impaled and the force of the Digimon’s blow left a crater in the ground hundreds of feet below from nothing but wind shear. Blue circled around and looked at the dark Digimon. It was hovering in place, head clutched in its left hand.

--------

Unit operating at suboptimal levels I don’t understand Irrelevant Complete mission Who did this to me Control module experiencing unexpected resistance The D-Brigade did this to me Loyalty to the D-Brigade is paramount Not loyal to me A good soldier gives all to his army Get out of me Routing control to home base

--------

“Hey, Blue! Down here!”

Blue flew down to the desert where Bastemon was calling for him, making sure to keep an eye on the mysterious Digimon, who was still clutching its head and twitching oddly.

“Alright, while that guy’s doing whatever he’s doing, we need a plan,” Bastemon said

Blue nodded. “It’s stronger than us. That must mean…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but both of them knew what he meant. A Digimon strong enough to nearly kill two Ultimate-levels without getting hurt could only be one of the legendary Mega-level Digimon. Mega-levels had the power to save the worlds or destroy them. And now one was trying to kill them.

Bastemon broke the silence. “First off, I need a lift. Not being able to fly in this form is killing me. And we’ll need to be fast. We can’t let that thing hit us-”

She had barely finished saying the word when Blue went supersonic again, grabbing her and pulling her out of the way as the enemy’s lance buried itself in the ground where the two had just been standing. It’s head whipped around toward them and unleashed another Dark Roar, forcing Blue to weave between the orbs of dark matter.

“Looks like someone’s got his head in the game,” said Bastemon as she clambered onto Blue’s back for a better vantage point. “Can you get me in close? I’m not too good at range.”

“I’ll try,” said Blue. “Blaze Sonic Breath!”

The enemy Digimon easily dodged the stream of fire, but it was followed by another, and another. Not intended to hit the enemy, but to keep it dodging long enough to close the distance.

Another sonic boom rattled the desert as Blue went supersonic again, shooting by the enemy while it was still dodging lances of flame. Bastemon leapt from his back with a cry of “Vampire Dance!” and slashed out with her claws. The enemy raised its arms in defense, Bastemon’s claws cutting ruts into them but falling to pierce its armor. Bastemon flipped over the Digimon’s head and grabbed onto its back.

“Vampire Amethyst! The jewelry that adorned Bastemon’s figure glowed and began pulling energy out of the enemy, causing it to stagger.

“Explode Sonic Lance!” Blue’s lance slammed into the enemy’s chestpiece and the dark Digimon roared in pain. Blue retreated and began another strike, but the Digimon’s left hand shot forward, grabbing onto his lance. It twisted in midair and released its grasp. Blue’s momentum became his enemy, leaving him unable to stop before slamming into the ground.

Before Blue could get up, the enemy took flight, zooming toward one of the many arches. Bastemon’s eyes widened as she realized what it was doing. It would pass under the arch but she, clinging to its back, would impact the solid stone at high speed. Cursing, Bastemon deactivated her drain and leapt, clearing the stone arch. Before she could land, the Digimon flew up in front of her, its tail lashing out and wrapping around her neck. Powerful muscles flexed. Choking off her ability to breathe and slamming her to the ground. The enemy flew forward, dragging Bastemon along the ground, moving away from Blue.

Shit, he’s going for Keiko and the others! Bastemon needed to act and now. She focused all the energy her Vampire Amethyst attack had drained into one claw and slashed. An instant later, the tail around her neck fell loose and she skidded to a stop as the enemy roared in pain. Bastemon stumbled to her feet and realized her attack had severed its tail.

“Oi, there’s plenty more where that came from!” Despite Bastemon’s words, she was wearing out fast. The only thing she could think to do was buy time. Time for Keiko and the others to get away. Please, Keiko. Just run away.

The enemy turned to face her and Bastemon raised her claws in challenge. It began to charge, but suddenly stopped and grabbed its head.

--------

Unexpected resistance Warning control module damaged by energy drain attack Remote control experiencing intermittent interruptions Get out of me Get out of me Get out of Reasserting control

---------

“Vampire dance!” Bastemon wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip by. Her flurry of slashes left scars in the enemy’s armor as it made no attempt to defend itself. Strange though, she didn’t recall hitting it in the face at all and yet it had three jagged slash marks there. Another strike was interrupted by the enemy suddenly grabbing her arm and flipping her over into a rock.

“Blaze Sonic Breath!” Blue’s flaming breath slammed into the enemy’s back, quickly followed by several more. The dragon was back, dented, but ready to fight. Bastemon pulled herself into a standing position and made one more slash, but the enemy grabbed her by the throat and whirled around, holding her between it and Blue.

“No!” exclaimed Blue, but it was too late. A burst of flame, already in flight, slammed into Bastemon’s stomach. She screamed, then went limp. The enemy tossed her aside, then shot upwards, flying toward Blue.

“Gigastick Lance!” Blue tried to fly to the left, but the enemy’s mighty lance caught his wing and shredded through it like paper. Blue bellowed in pain and began to fall, but the enemy grabbed his tail and spun, building up momentum before hurling him to the ground. Blue landed headfirst next to the prone body of Bastemon. This was quickly followed by the enemy landing on his body with an impact that echoed throughout the desert.

The enemy stood over the prone bodies of the two Digimon, watching as they began to glow and de-Digivolved back to their Rookie levels. It raised its lance, ready to land the finishing blow when-

“Blue!” “Tsukaimon!” Daniel and Kaiko ran out from cover, tears streaming down their faces. Clark followed them, swearing.

“No, Don’t” Blue croaked out.

“Run away, you idiots,” Tsukaimon said weakly. The humans didn’t listen. They came closer, despite the danger, knowing there was nothing they could do. But they came anyway, because their partners needed them.

The enemy glanced at the humans, but turned its attention back to the Digimon. Then, its head twisted oddly, wrenching around to look at one of them. Its mouth opened and out came a strange, distorted noise.

“Cccllaaaarrrrr-”

------

Control module at critical condition It’s him It’s him Attempting to reassert control He can help Attempting to reassert control LET ME GO Control reasserted Priority change Eliminate humans first

-----

That voice. It can’t be… Clark stared at the enemy, who was standing frozen, looking directly at him. But the voice, the voice was a dead ringer for him. For Commandramon 1G1. For his partner. And those scars. Three across the snout, going from upper left to lower right. The scars that Commandramon had gotten leaping between Clark and an angry Digimon. The scars that refused to heal no matter what treatment he was given.

The enemy Digimon twitched unnaturally, then turned toward the children. All three stood there, helpless as it raised its lance at them, ready to snuff out their young lives in an instant. The lance shot forward and Clark made a leap of faith.

-----

STOP

------

The tip of the lance hovered a fraction of a millimeter from Clark’s chest. He had leapt in front of Daniel and Keiko, arms outstretched, and it worked.

“It’s you, isn’t it,” he said, his voice more vulnerable than it had been in years. “Commandramon.”

The Digimon collapsed to its knees, the nightmare that had seconds ago been trying to kill them all now looking lost and vulnerable. “Clark, I’m sorry,” it said, its voice now softer and sad.

“What did they do to you, man?” Clark asked, on the edge of tears.

“Took control of me. Betrayed me. Made me a monster,” his partner replied. “I tried, but I couldn’t stop myself for long. I don’t know how long I have.”

“It’s ok, man. We’re together again,” Clark stepped forward, placing his hand on that of his partner. “We can fix this.”

------

Warning Control module experiencing total failure Reboot unsuccessful Likelihood of reestablishing control minimal

Activating contingency measure

-----

Commandramon shot to attention as the thing, the control module began to surge with energy. No. Not now. Not when I just found him again.

“I’m sorry Clark, but I have to go.”

Before his partner could respond, Commandramon shot into the sky, trying to put as much distance between himself and his partner as possible.

Clark. Goodbye.

An explosion ripped through the sky and the body of Clark’s partner’s new form plummeted to the earth where it lay, unmoving. Clark ran to his partner as he de-Digivolved, first to his Rookie form, then further, to a form that looked like a living cartoon bomb with three eyes. Even as Clark fell to his knees, his partner’s body glitched out, distorting, his data leaking away. He wouldn’t last long.

“No, you can’t die,” Clark was openly crying now. “Not after all this. Not after we just found each other again.”

His partner looked at him. With no mouth, he couldn’t say anything, but what could he say? Commandramon, or whatever he was in this form, rolled over, coming to rest against Clark’s hand, and closed his eyes.

Clark picked up his partner, Commandramon now small enough to fit in his hand, and held him. Then his eyes shot open and he put the bomb Digimon down. “I still have it,” he said as he pulled off his backpack and reached in, rummaging down to the depth.

“Found it!” Clark pulled out a dusty Digivice. Its color was gray and muted and the screen showed only static. It had been like this ever since the two parted ways, a symbol of their broken partnership. “Come on, do something,” Clark held his Digivice in one had and his partner in another, praying that something would happen.

The Digivice’s screen flickered, then the static faded. Clark gasped as color blossomed into it and a light shot out from the screen. He turned the light onto Commandramon and watched as the glitches faded from his partner. Commandramon’s eyes shot open as the light faded.

“It worked, oh it worked,” Clark gasped, relief flooding through him. Commandramon’s eyes met his and understanding passed between them. “It’s ok,” Clark said, “Go to sleep. We can catch up when you’re feeling better.”

Commandramon rocked his spherical body in a nod, then closed his eyes. Clark held his partner as Daniel and Keiko, each carrying theirs, caught up to him. For the first time in years, he felt whole again.

-----

General Tankdramon looked as stoic as ever, his well-honed control preventing anyone else from seeing the utter rage that was inside of him. He had watched the whole battle on his screens and participated in it via the control module’s remote function. And yet all he had accomplished was losing an asset and wasting resources.

“How much Digivolution energy do we have stored from the previous experiment?” he snarled at a subordinate, unable to keep the rage from his voice.

If lieutenant Hi-Commandramon 7W12 was startled by his superior’s tone of voice, he was too professional to show it. “Sir! We have enough stored to Digivolve a platoon of Commandramon to Champion, a selection of Hi-Commandramon and Sealsdramon to-”

“Can we Digivolve an Ultimate to Mega?” interrupted the General.

“Yes, I believe so, sir.”

“Then prep the machinery and inform me the second it is ready,” ordered the General. There was still a chance to salvage this operation. The human Andrew had reported his success at claiming the artifact and was en route to Tankdramon’s mobile command center now. As soon as he arrived, the final stage of the plan could begin. All he needed was some time and firepower and everything could be put right.

“Sir, if I may, who is going to be Digivolved?” asked the lieutenant.

General Tankdramon rotated on his treads to look his subordinate in the eye and said one word.

“Me.”

#Digimon #fanfiction #fanfic #rough draft #writing #writeblr #new writers on tumblr #sfw #digimon oc #comments are appreciated!#dracomon #groundramon #wingdramon #tsukaimon #bastemon #darkdramon #tankdramon #commandramon #d-brigade

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darkbluekies · 5 months

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I was actually going to sleep then I saw you respond to my ask, I'm actually very interested and intrigued so I wanted to respond immediately!

— Jesus fucking Christ they actually measured the entirety of the ship? That level of hm, how does one describe this, pettiness or determination? Perhaps a sense of both, I mean I'd get petty too if I lost something valuable and ended up getting an unfair compensation. I wonder what the reaction of the Germans were when they realized they actually measured it.

— oh god that's actually so fucking hilarious 😭😭 getting worked up over nothing, I mean, at least they had a design? 😭

— That's quite something, Grey Ghost? Why is QMS nickname Grey Ghost? Does it have relations due to it being not found?

— I... I have no idea what to say 😭 that's actually so ironic

— Holy shit a ship sinking in just 14 minutes is plain terrifying?? Why did it sink that fast anyways?

— Wow... That's actually really sad and quite brave of him too, I don't think I've heard of the Wilhelm Gustloff disaster and 9000 deaths in one night is crazy. Hopefully that guy is doing alright, it's possible he might get survivors guilt, I might research about the disaster and see what I can find!

— woah, the first design is quite pretty! The second one reminds me of a factory for some reason

Ahh this is what little brain juice I can squeeze out from my brain, though I actually enjoyed this and it made my night more interesting! :D I'll head off to sleep now, goodnight!

—🌊

— lol apparently? there were more petty things in that affair, such as painting a ship supposed to be given to White Star Line in Germany's colors, turnign the british officers' quarters to a cleaning supply room etc lmao

— it was a design alright ... just not a good one. The wings of the golden eagle fell of during a storm so they're at the bottom of the atlantic right now. The eagle looks even more stupid without the wings😭 (picture at the bottom)

—The ship was painted fully grey because it was used as a troop ship which made it hard to find it. The ship was extremely fast, so it was fast to catch her. These two characteristics earned her the name The Grey Ghost. (picture at the bottom)

— the ships weren't even alike???? one had an funnel and whatnot?? i'm not even sure how they thought that it would work ... and it clearly didn't.

— It was a foggy night and two ships were supposed to go past each other, but in the fog they couldn't see each others lights, so a norweigan ship called Storstad rammed the side of Empress of Ireland and cut up a gigantic hole. The ship itself was almost half the size of titanic. A lot of people died that night because they didn't have the time to get out.

— I'm not even sure it was legal to sink the WG? I know that it had been a hospital ship during WW2 (it's seen as a war crime to sink a hospital ship), but it seems like it had returned to a normal ship during the time WG was sunk. The reason (i think) why it was sunk was because a lot of nazi party members were on board with their families, supposedly relocating to another country, and was sunken by soviet submarines. WIlhelm Gustloff could only carry 1465 passangers, but had around 10 000 during its sinking. Although there were many bad people on board there were children as well. The actor was a small child, so i hope that he doesn't remember much of it, because I cannot imagine the horror he must live with otherwise.

— Unfortunately, the times were changing and the edwardian design was no longer popular :( I would have loved another Olympmic class liner :(

here's a before an after of the eagle lmao

From left to right: SS Normandie, RMS Queen Mary, RMS Aquitania

I could talk about ocean liners forever. If I got paid by the hour to talk about them I would be so fucking rich I'm telling you

#🌊anon

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beautifulhigh · 6 months

Text

I did not forget the results of the poll, my plan to post a reveal snippet last weekend was curtailed by my OTHER current project, namely my kitchen. Which now has a plumbed in sink!

ANYWAY

For those who are with me on this, here's the Super Secret FirstPrince fic which is, by the end of this post, not quite the Super Secret fic anymore...

Hope you're with me on this ride, and if you're not then no harm no foul just leave quietly so I don't have to be crushed by rejection. Because this one is really waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay out of my comfort zone and I'm still really nervous about it.

To the Keep Reading!

Alex woke to the soft click of the hotel room door. Apparently his security training was embedded deeper than he'd like because he was hauled from his sleep by the noise and the fact that the other side of the bed was empty.

So many things were wrong with this picture and so despite it still being dark out and probably insanely early he was wide awake.

"Henry?" he called, hoping that the noise he'd heard was actually the bathroom door.

He knew it wasn't but he checked anyway.

He pulled on his pants and slipped the room key into the pocket before moving out into the hallway. As they'd taken over the entire floor they didn't have security every other door as would normally have been merited. He looked left then right, only seeing Cash standing at the end by the elevators.

Cash, who accepted his family's request to move to their private security at the end of Ellen's second term. Cash, who relocated his whole life to New York when Alex moved up there and who dropped hints about getting to enjoy good BBQ when Alex and Henry started talking about Texas.

Cash, who had been there through every high and low of his relationship with Henry.

Cash, whose normally solid posture was broken by a single finger pointing down the corridor to his left.

Alex walked to the end of the corridor, tapping Cash's hand in a subtle low five gesture, before heading to the left. The rooms down here were either empty or used by the security team members who were taking the other shifts, but at the end was the reason why this floor had been favoured and requested: a small meeting room that they had been able to make use of to stay on top of official business.

"Have you said anything to him?" Alex heard Bea's voice coming from the other side of the door.

"And say what?" came Henry's reply. "How do I tell him?"

"You tell him," Bea said softly. "After everything you two have been through—"

"Exactly, Bea," Henry interrupted her. "After everything we have been through to get here, how do I tell him? 'Good morning, darling, did you sleep well, by the way we need to talk about the wedding'?"

"Hen—"

"God, I wish we'd never agreed to this."

"You don't mean that."

There was an awful silence, one Alex felt like lasted forever, before he heard Henry say, "I think I do. Sometimes I wish we'd never wrecked that damn cake."

"You need to talk to him."

"I don't want him to hate me."

"He loves you—" Bea started but Alex was startled from his eavesdropping by the sound of a door opening behind him in the corridor.

He turned quickly, too quickly, and there was a flash of movement and a second when he felt like he was falling before there was nothing.

Alex woke up slowly as the light filled the room, rubbing a hand against his face. His arm ached a little as he lifted it, adding to the things that felt a little off. He ignored those thoughts, pushing back the covers and heading to the bathroom. Lifting the lid he started to pee, staring down blindly in front of him as he did so.

The voice in his head was a little louder, a little more insistent, and it wasn't until he was washing his hands that he finally noticed what it was trying to tell him.

Only one wash bag was on the unit: Henry's wasn't there.

He walked back out into the room, looking around for Henry's case but his was the only one there. The other side of the bed clearly hadn't been slept in and even though he knew what the result would be he still flung open the closet to find only one suit bag hanging there,

Panic rose in his chest as he reached for his phone on the side, pulling it free from the charger. As he did so his arm ached again and he instinctively rubbed it. His fingers ran against the raised line of skin and the physicality of it unlocked a memory for him.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt to inspect the graze there.

It was only when he lifted his phone that all of the horrible, terrifying, impossible pieces fell into place.

One bag in the room, a graze on his shoulder.

His bare ring finger, engagement ring missing.

His lock screen, his childhood dog and not the photo of him and Henry and David.

The date on his lock screen with the calendar reminder already showing.

ROYAL FUCKING WEDDING – TODAY.

The time wasn't what he was focused on, but the date.

Friday, September 6 2019.

"What the fuck?" Alex repeated.

Reasons why this is bullshit

1. I do not live in some science fiction world or whatever and time travel is purely theoretical

2. So clearly this is a dream

3. A very vivid dream in which I can read and write. Apparently I shouldn't be able to read

4. What else can it be but bullshit?

#work in progress wednesday #writing jen is writing #firstprince #Jen's Super Secret FirstPrince fic #fic: masters of your own destiny #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #prince henry of wales #red white and royal blue #rwrb #otp: history huh

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mikewheelerfan2022 · 15 days

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Ugh, I am furious right now! My friend’s mom found a cottonmouth snake in her backyard. If that happened to me, I would be incredibly excited. But not her. Instead, she got her husband…to kill it. This is utterly moronic for multiple reasons.

1: 85% of snake bites occur…when somebody is trying to kill a snake! Wow, who could have guessed that trying to murder a living organism would make it act in self defense… 🙄

2: The snake literally wasn’t doing anything! It was just chilling in her backyard. It probably would have moved on eventually. Contrary to popular belief, cottonmouths are actually the opposite of aggressive and will literally never chase anybody. That is a myth. They only start to become hostile…when you’re attacking it!!!

3: Even if she had to have the cottonmouth removed RIGHT then, there are apparently multiple people in her neighborhood who have experience with relocating snakes! Why didn’t she call any of them?! Instead, she made her husband go out there with a fucking bucket! A bucket!

He’s lucky he didn’t get bit. I honestly wish he did. It would serve him right. Maybe a hospital visit would make him realize how idiotic his actions were.

This is really pissing me off.

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zelenbug · 9 months

Text

heres something incredible niche. with the help of raymap i spent a few hours making an entire height chart of almost all the characters and creatures (and a plum) in rayman 3, minus the absolute largest ones

heres the whole thing uncropped (12.8 mb, 26270x2383)

and here it is condensed into like the most important individual characters

(and that link too, 7010x2035)

below is some notes about it, a whole bunch of rambling and stuff, i put a lot of effort into this so check this out

this is taken with raymap by looking at each map in the orthographic front view, relocating every object i need to -1500 Y position with 0 for everything else (minus x position just so they could be side by side). the rotation and scale is all set to 1. almost all of the objects are the first frame of their idle animation

only exceptions for the rotation were CagouFlaps (hoodloon), francesco (red bird), piranha and Dirigible, all for convenience. one of the refluxes (the fight one with the glowy face) is also an exception to the animations thing, hes using the first frame of an animation different from his idle one so he stood more upright

the arrangements i took were like this. i had to take 43 screenshots like this (with the transparent screenshot option) and then align them using rayman as an anchor, as i included him in every screenshot

the fact that they were all at the same exact Y position is why the characters are sometimes slightly below or slightly above where the floor is supposed to be, thats just how the object is positioned in the game itself basically and i chose to leave that in. i ignored that for my height sorting though

i didnt use all screenshots, i just excluded everything that was larger than a mawpaw because the filesize in this chart was already large enough. im not bloating them with something that was likely going to end up well over 10k pixels tall and wide

i also excluded a bunch of inanimate objects like piggy banks and gems and cages and stuff, but i have screenshots with them

i also straight up forgot francesco so its not in the chart. but heres its size relative to rayman, probably would have been between the orange glowy fairy and either a grim or andre

this slightly tinier colorful hoodmonger is just from the final boss fight, which is a separate object family from the three other types of hoodmonger (which are all actually the same family)

the other fairy thingy (luisane) got kinda botched in the transparent screenshot so i just screenshotted it how it appeared in raymap itself directly so it has a black background. also i know the rat looks really weird, its just Like That its not modeled on the bottom, in retrospect i really should have rotated that one sideways too

the flabar/bonton has wings but theyre solid white (bc the texture for them is actually missing in final, one of the demos had them) and they blended into the background oops. heres a snippet from a larger transparent version of the chart

the way i actually sorted all the heights is i generally ignored stuff like hair and hats, thats why some teensies ended up being outright taller than rayman

also yeah i dont know why specifically generic teensies are so tiny compared to all the other ones. my guess is that their size was just leftover from the previous games and didnt account for the ones original to rayman 3 being scaled up, or something?

i love the teensy heights in this though i love that some are taller than rayman and the apparent slight variety present in their heights (even if you cant tell it at all and theyre all shaped the same really)

anyway i also unfortunately had to leave some guys out since i just couldnt move their objects for some reason, those being -iceglob (globox stuck in a block of ice unsurprisingly enough) -sk8guard (the teensy that catches you in teensy highways) -ProjCanon (thingy that you have to aim at celoche to damage it) -wbug (little bugs that are in bog of murk supposedly but i never saw them outside of raymap)

oh well i can finangle a way to get them out of perspective view i hope

#rayman #i was so tempted to leave one of the doctors out of the condensed chart like why do i have to include the racist teensy nooo #ANYWAY hopefully this is useful or interesting to anyone??????

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miraculous-pyxie · 1 year

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I just got the most bizarre fan-theory idea ever (spoilers for episode 24 (representation)) and I don’t think I’ve heard anyone suggest this yet:

now the three episodes that released recently are missing an episode in chronological order, so I’m not sure what’s to come or exactly what’s an order because I have not watched them in order yet. HOWEVER- I think I’ve cracked Lila/Cerise/???’s motive. (for the sake of continuity and understanding I’m going to refer to her as Lila)

now this may not be correct AT ALL, but I feel like with the general direction we’re heading plot-wise, she could be the key to tying every major plot point together.

when Lila appeared at the season one, she made her fixation on popularity and Adrien, heavily apparent. Her flimsy lies in the beginning of the show were meant to test the students, to see who’s really paying attention. but why would she need to test the students if she’s just some other student? and to that I say, she’s not just some other student. she was always going to be a spy for Gabriel because she was designed that way.

no really, I think she is a rouge sentibeing.

I know how rich this is coming from me, somebody who was previously against the Sentibeing theory but i’m willing to do a little thought experiment.

how did she inherently have the power to network with Gabriel Agreste? why did Gabriel trust some random 14-year-old who he’s never met before to watch his son? why did Gabriel seemingly let this girl into his company so easily and trust what she reports?

we’ve seen in season five that there is more than just Natalie in on this little hawkmoth secret. so let me give you a timeline of events that could very well be possible for who we know as Lila Rossi.

We’ve seen Myaura, create diverse life from the feathers that’s different from Felix, Adrien, and Kagami, i.e. Sentibug. so these are the two ways that Lila could’ve come into existence.

but because Senti’s are manifestations of emotions, why would somebody have a reason to create Lila? Especially the way that she acts?

I think Lila could’ve been a manifestation of Gabriel’s need for control. Gabriel needed a spy so he made one. a powerful one. a little too powerful.

i also want to briefly mention in season three Gabriel confirmed that the brooch broke due to unknown circumstances but in Felix and Kagami‘s reenactment of the past, the brooch is shown to be in perfect condition. it’s definitely possible that more senti’s could’ve been made in that time, and Lila could’ve even been the reason that it broke. ((I understand that Emilie fell into a coma from using the broken peacock miraculous but the timeline for all this is a little out of sorts currently))

so, with all that out-of-the-way, let’s dive into a possible timeline of events:

Lila was created either the same way sentibug was or Felix was, and put under specific care by one or multiple of Gabriel’s employees. (hence the multiple moms.)

she was designed to be a spy to get information for Gabriel but turn rogue and started using her abilities for her own gain. Gabriel was upset with her defiance. instead of discarding her, he came up with a plan. he relocated her to Paris and through his network, set her up with a “mom”, and enrolled her in school. her “mission”, was to watch over Adrien and test his classmates for competence and clues. after Ladybug was seen holding a textbook from François Dupont College, Gabriel needed an in. He had Lila test certain lies and phrases subconsciously, who would react to this new girl saying that she’s ladybug’s best friend? and they almost figured it out because marinette was taking the bait.

Even though the fandom hated when Adrien told Marinette to take the highroad, and don’t get me wrong, I was right there with you, but in this theory, Adrien telling Marinette to school her reactions might have saved her identity in the long run without either of them knowing. Lila was saying things trying to piss people off, Trying to make akumas, trying to get Ladybug in the process. Gabriel’s influence or not she was trying to find ladybug.

it’s confirmed that Lila is the first person outside of Gabriel’s intention finding out his identity. with this theory in mind, that makes all the difference for Lila‘s motives for season six and forward. it’s also confirmed that in the future, there will be a new butterfly wielder and it’s all coming up Lila. her designed motive for control, and power has completely consumed her.

some honorable mentions to this case is we saw in episode 22 when Lila‘s lies get exposed to the class that she’s very quick to twist her allies arms when her plans start falling out from under her. that’s not some thing someone without a motive can pull off.

she has multiple disguises, names, homes, and many plans and ambitions that revolve around power and control via any means necessary.

but that does leave the question, if she is a senti, where is her amok? I think something my have happened before we met her where she got control. it could be something small enough to keep in her pocket or possibly the bracelets on her wrist.

Anyway, this is just an idea i thought of and i dumped it here because none of my friends who watch ml are caught up yet. sorry that this is not as concise as it could be.

edit: all of the references im pulling are from when i watched the show over the course of 7 years and i have not had a chance to go back and watch the majority of the episodes. this theory is also supposed to emphasize that Lila is a victim of Gabriel/Monarch but in a way that could be his downfall (succumbing to his need for control type stuff)

#ml spoilers #ml representation #ml cerise #ml fan theories #mlb fan theories #mlb spoilers #mlb s5 spoilers #ml season 5 #mlb s5 #mlb season 5 spoilers #mlb headcanon #ml leaks #mlb leaks #ml lila #mlb lila #lila rossi #ml season 5 spoilers #ml sentimonster

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ariadnebyanyothername · 1 month

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Ariadne loved her classes. More so, she loved the people in them. Her Classics minor didn't attract many people, the class was small, selective (she could practically hear Kian rolling his eyes, claiming selective was another word for elitist or prententious, except his words would be much more cutting and in a rather lovely Irish accent) and therefore, her study partners were whittled down to five other lovers of The Iliad and Medea. Her first day of class, her professor had made them go round one by one and introduce themselves, asked why they wanted to study the Classics. Ariadne had pressed her rouged lips together and resisted the urge to mention The Secret History, instead mumbling something about how she loved Emily Wilson's translation of The Odyssey.

She would be lying if she said The Secret History wasn't the reason she adored her small group of six. She hung on every word of her clever classmates, hoping she could forge some kind of fucked up, co-dependent friendship group she could fuck her way through, and maybe even put on her own Bacchanalia deep in the woods for. It had become apparent rather quickly that they were definitely more of a, "Shall we have a pint and discuss Homer?" type of class rather than anything else, but Ariadne still felt very fond of them. Mason, an angelic looking redhead whose hair fell past her butt, had even squealed when she'd learned the name of Ariadne's beloved Italian Greyhound.

She'd agreed to meet her classmates at their local, a quaint little rip-off of an English pub that Ariadne wasn't sure really resembled England at all - not that she'd ever been. Their professor had set them an assignment they were to work on together, one where individual grades would not be given out, so the six of them had sat for the past few hours, glasses of red wine and pints of beer dampening paperbacks and sheet upon sheet of notes as they mind melded. Eventually, as the pub began to empty out around them, each one of her new friends had said their goodbyes, made their excuses and left, until it was just her and Smith, a boy with dark hair and awkward glasses who blushed whenever anyone addressed him directly.

"Sorry, Halliday." he proffered his apology, shoving his books into his bag. "My boyfriend just got off shift and I promised I'd be home before him."

Offering him a small, tight-lipped smile that she tried to make feel genuine and a wave of her hand, Ariadne said, "No problem. See you tomorrow?"

Once her table had emptied, Ariadne stifled a yawn, wondering if she ought to give up too and wander home for the night to Richard Papen. It did seem a waste of a perfectly good night, though. Ariadne had yet to meet her roommate, but she often heard her shuffling around behind closed doors, and had come home some nights after long classes to find Richard's kibble bowl refilled, so whoever she was, she wasn't a complete monster. She was certain Richard would be perfectly fine in her care.

Picking up her paperback and her half-empty glass of wine, Ariadne relocated to the bar. It seemed less sad to be drinking alone when you had the company of a book, and maybe even at the bar, she might find someone to talk to. The actress wasn't the kind of woman who did well with long silences, and long stretches of time without anyone to talk to.

Depositing herself on the bar stool, Ariadne crossed her ankles and immediately did away with her sweater, draping it over the back of her chair and tugging at her top, the fabric exposing the lace at the top of her bra and pushing her breasts up, as she cast an eye around for a target.

The only human being in her sights, however, appeared to have no interest in her whatsoever. He was sitting with his body directed away from her, so that the only thing she could make out about him was a messy shock of hair and a - dear God, was that a tweed jacket? She could practically hear Colin laughing as she sat up straight in her chair, unsure how she was restraining herself at that particular moment in time. Most women and men of a particular disposition might roll their eyes at a man wearing tweed in a bar, but it was catnip to women like Ariadne.

Clearing her throat, Ariadne leaned over a little, tapping the man on the shoulder.

"Hello, sorry to interrupt." she started, voice low as she flashed him her sweetest smile, "But could I buy you a drink?"

#ft. jasper #thread: jasper1

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mindchess · 3 months

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@kleinstar

One moment Miles was in his office, the next he awoke in this strange place—a city he has no recollection of ever visiting. A kidnapping would be the most obvious explanation. It's certainly not anything he hasn't gone through before or expected to happen because of his position. The fact he doesn't remember falling asleep lends well to this idea. ...Though that doesn't quite explain the ride to his new apparent "accommodations" (nothing special, really, paltry in comparison to his old abode) by his presumed captors.

The reason for these events still remain unclear. Surely they would have wanted a ransom before setting him free? Was it purely to relocate him? For what purpose? And why here (the City of Spirale, was it?) Such questions fill his mind. One thing is certain: he needs to find answers.

The only things left intact on his person are the clothes on his back as well as his prosecutor's badge. The new phone supplied to him doesn't allow any contact to those outside of the city, it seems—namely, Detective Gumshoe or that certain defense attorney. He has little choice now but to rely on the words of the inhabitants who have lived here before now. That's what led him to approach a stranger.

"Excuse me... Do you have a moment? I promise not to take up too much of your time."

#kleinstar #kleinstar 01 #♟️in character #srry this is so long haha #i only just remembered the starter call was for short starters

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anthonybialy · 11 months

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Taking Sides While Bottoming Out

It’s a tough choice between siding with the virtuously innocent and the diabolical horde seeking to destroy for just that reason, apparently. The allegedly progressive express their desire to for peaceful cooperation by either explicitly or tacitly siding with the demons doing their wicked best to crush Israel. As is typical of their lamentable ideology, the debate doesn’t feature anything distracting like pondering if siding with decency is correct.

Admitting a fondness for evil in their perfectly inverted way shows why our allegedly futuristic year features an alarming quantity of raging decapitations. The refusal to express the simplest chance for condemnation makes it seem like they sympathize with destroyers of life itself. There’s an appalling secret that’s not really one.

Your more enlightened betters won’t condemn the contemporary Viet Cong movement they clandestinely admire. Everyone decent sees compensation for personal failings. Those who insist on staying left sound the alarm about using the ends to justify the means because that’s precisely how they approach life. There must be a crisis to exploit so they can control more of our lives. Zealots subscribe to an ideology based on thinking everyone else is one removed regulation from turning into a barbarian because they view government with their own personalities in mind.

Wholesale war is going to hurt more than feelings. Oh, they’re just fighting for their very survival. Necessary tactics might lead to ghastly consequences. The only thing worse than collateral damage is targeted damage. Blame terrorists who ripped out water pipes to make rockets to aim indiscriminately. Using a simple device for progress to destroy sums up what century Hamas resides in mentally.

Foes of Germany at their naughtiest may be surprised what it took to defeat them. The confused typically think they’re the equivalent of Omaha Beach invaders for their heroic service of branding Black Lives Matters foes as racists. As for what actually happened during World War II, the good guys firebombed Dresden, which would have horrified pronoun announcers. Those frothing at the mouth for a chance to punch a Nazi should learn history, and not just so they can see how their economic dreams have become nightmares every time.

National Socialism’s descendants are presently attempting to relocate Israel into the sea. Godwin’s law is suspended while discussing an effort to eradicate Israel and everything in it.

Typical loudmouths are jarringly quiet in their refusal to side against terrorists attacking a religion and civilization. What makes you think they’ll oppose shoplifters? The woke fetish for siding with those with baseless grudges creates actual harm. Spot the difference by how they won’t preen about victims.

Primitive enviers of society are nothing new. Commies and slight variants always seek opportunities to drag others for equality. Great leap forwarders have to remember to not cheer too loudly when they think a massacre will bring glorious progress.

Explaining why terror fans aren’t terror fans is just another bout with reality. The same deluded souls are already exhausted from informing Americans why they should cherish how easy inflation makes carrying groceries. As with everything else leftists try, they don’t get better with practice. George Costanza is unimpressed.

Electing Hamas is maybe not the most effective way to show they don’t represent you. Self-anointed resisters who claim Trump winning brought fascism have ample excuses for the result of choosing rabid murderers as their leaders. One of the globe’s most prolific terror factories churns widespread pollution.

It’s tough to condemn their cause. The left treats the Middle East’s only country where the alphabet soup community can live freely with the same contempt they aim at exchanging currency for goods and services.

Sourcing their contempt for Israel shows who actual bigots are, and you’ll be unsurprised to discover another case of projection. The nation in question just happens to be Jewish, so don’t read anything obvious into that connection. Contempt runs deeper for a country that should take being despised by college professors as a compliment. A functioning republic is the alleged goal of woke activists who sure enjoy fuming at the one place in the neighborhood known for voting in representatives.

Feeling they’re for the oppressed doesn’t require anything complicated like checking facts. Indigent types who seem like refugees must be the good guys. They’ve obviously suffered and could never attack innocents, right? Leftists never think it might be members of a religion that’s been demonized for as long as it’s been around who might be the distressed party.

Pretending that wasteland nobody wanted until the Jews got it officially is the most popular justification for aligning with terrorists. Gaza residents who sure seem to dislike living in proximity to Israel couldn’t have their own chunk of land in, say, Iran. Famously tolerant mullahs would surely welcome the affected. Attackers got sick of coexisting just like the Prius bumper sticker demands.

The left already hates remembering in general, as it always makes them look bad. Believing ghastly notions about coerced cooperation requires a daily fresh start. Fawning over the side that put its hands on a culture without consent is consistent.

Awfulness can best be excused by obliviousness. It doesn’t just mean noticing why their ideology requires forgetfulness to attract new recruits. Adherents would prefer you forgot when they asked why they hate us by the afternoon of September 11, 2001. Sympathizers pretty openly thought terrorists had a point about our greedily oppressive capitalistic hellhole. They’ve always enjoyed looking for nonexistent Islamophobia while disregarding a very existent mass grave. Israel bombed a hospital except for how the precise opposite happened.

Speaking up on behalf of actual good guys would mean violating their ideology, and they’re deeply committed. Self-righteousness about how nobody can afford to be silent to, say, fight repression does not apply to defending those out to eliminate threats to infants and concertgoers. Actively advocating against a cause that would be too cartoonishly stark for a Marvel movie shows they don’t grasp the simplest plots.

#Israel #Hamas #Middle East #war #terrorism

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crystal-verse · 1 year

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Wolgraha week day 4: sacrifice

[I know everyone else is doing something with Crystal Exarch and that sacrifice there, but I challenged myself to only write within Crystal Tower questline era, and that means we get this bit of fluff. fluff for the soul.]

"I demand," you begin, on that swelteringly hot day, "a sacrifice."

"Oh?" Is all Raha says, looking over the pile of books beside him to peer at you, an eyebrow raised. "A sacrifice?"

"I demand that you get me some icewater." You continue, laid down on your back and grimacing at the feel of your clothes sticking to your skin beneath your robes. There was a perk to Summoner's Robes, yes -- they held very deep pockets for holding all matter of things, magical components or books or whatnot -- but they were also heavy and trapped in heat. And in Mor Dhona, it had been tolerable enough, but you -- and several other Sons of Saint Coinach, and Raha themself -- have relocated to Eastern Thanalan for a brief while, poking at that large amount of corrputed aether in the Burning Wall.

Ostensibly, you were there to protect the six or so researchers from Mirrorknights, which were a secondary reason why you'd come here. They were of Allagan make, after all, and with the struggle to open the doors to the Syrcus Tower, NOAH as a whole would take whatever Allagan knowledge you could get your hands on. But you figure everyone kind of expects you to not do anything -- you'd done your best to not stumble too much, but you're still recovering from your bout of worse sickness a week prior, and you are still sick. You think that the real reason you're here is because Raha is, but no one would question that. The two of you have been attached at the hip somehow or other -- from him worrying over your poor health, or you showing up to watch while he combed through pages of research and tomestones.

Regardless. It was far too hot, and Raha was laughing at you. You pick a small little stone off the ground and throw it at him, though he dodges. "Where am I to get icewater from?" he asks, infuriatingly amused. (You love him. You remind yourself that you love him, even as he laughs at you. You envy his apparent immunity to the heat.)

"We have ice crystals." You grumble. "And don't laugh at me, I'm melting." Here, you pick yourself off the ground and flop over onto Raha's lap instead. "The heat will surely kill me, my beloved." And there is far more honesty in that sentance then your earlier dramatics would suggest.

At the shift in tone, Raha looks at you, pupils narrowing. They set their book down -- you think they place a bookmark in there somewhere as well. "Truly?" Raha says.

You sigh. Heavily. Then you regret it, because drawing air back into your lungs is harder. "The heat makes my sickness worse." You admit. "I've been nauseous all day."

Raha narrows his eyes at you. "You said you ate."

"I did! Just. . . not a lot."

A blink that's almost painful with how dry the air is, and Raha's sighing now, pushing your bangs away from your face with their hand. "I wish you had mentioned such sooner. Are any of your other symptoms worse?"

"Breathing hurts more." You admit. "And I get dizzy when I stand. More than normal."

Another sigh. "Well. I suppose I shall have to get your sacrifice of icewater then, my love. Will you be alright here?"

You make a little noise of confirmation, and then you peel yourself off of Raha's lap, settling onto that warmer patch of ground that he'd been sitting on as soon as Raha gets up. Thankfully, there's a rug and tend set up, so the researchers can be somewhat shielded from the elements.

"I will return with your icewater anon." Raha proclaims, and you wave a hand in acknowledgement. You'll curl up here and wait. (You hate the heat. Ugh. Terrible, terrible, terrible. If you could avoid Thanalan you would do so for the rest of your days.)

Laying on your side -- for ease of breathing -- you inhale the lemon-and-beeswax scent left behind. Raha's been sitting here long enough to leave a trace of his scent behind, and it's comforting. Makes you settle in further, comforted by it. (Lemon oil for his bow and beeswax for his bowstring, he'd said once. It's important to upkeep your weapons.)

Raha will come back soon enough, but for now you let your eyes fall closed and simply breathe. (If Raha tries to convince you to go to Thanalan again -- well, you'll still go with them, but you'll complain the whole time. You deserve it, you think.

But when Raha gets back with your icewater -- you'll give him a kiss. Just a small one. As thanks. As lovers do. That will be nice.)

#bound with thread | original posts #ink gone dry | writing #divine being of crystal and star | k'pheli tia (sae'pheli'ehva)#g'raha tia #wolgraha week 2023 #wolgraha #anyways reminder that k'pheli is chronically ill (like me)#he has POTS (like me) and then also has his aether sickness which is a separate thing. but they share some symptoms #anyways heat is not good for POTS. remember to hydrate and get enough salt in your diet. don't be me and forget to do that

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1016anon · 2 years

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Title: Kate is a Governess AU Author: 55anon Fandom: Bridgerton Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sharma Summary: Second part of Kate is a Governess AU. Trigger Warning: Infertility

A/N -- there is extensive discussion of the implications of infertility for a woman in the 1800's and the dangers it could bring to an unmarried woman. I did not do any research, so do not know if they are 100% accurate for the period.

-2-

Though she had been hired as a governess for the children, it quickly became apparent to Anthony that Kate's talents were wasted on being a governess.

After Anthony had relocated the family to London, it was inevitable that he would be more removed from the details of any issues with tenants, bailiffs, other administrative staff in his employ. Moreover, Anthony had, for the most part, lived in the bubble of Aubrey Hall, only occasionally interacting with those who now relied on him for their livelihoods and he relied upon for his family's income.

Kate, however, knew the lay of the land. She had lived among them, had grown up knowing the farmers, tradespeople, administrators, thanks to Appa's position as a land agent. Mary brought with her the genteel manners of her upbringing, hosting little events to encourage friendships and goodwill among the people Appa had to collect money, report to, work with. It was one of the reasons why Appa had been unusually well positioned-- even moreso than the steward or solicitor-- to help the new young Viscount with his duties.

Most, if not all, of Kate's friends were in one way or another attached to the Bridgerton estate. She continued to correspond with them-- this was made clear when one evening, she knocked on the study door, didn't wait for permission to enter, then stood before his desk demanding what he thought he was doing, approving the expansion of the Porter's holdings? Didn't he know what they planned to do with that land? Didn't he know what kind of despicable characters they were?

And what was this business of giving Littelman additional responsibility for collecting rents? The man was as lazy as the day was long; quite charming and eloquent to be sure, prone to put on airs, but did Lord Bridgerton want to run his estate into the ground? How dare he raise the rents for the Bowers. They had been saving money in hopes of sending their son to college-- the first one of their family, and now he had completely dashed their hopes. There was a dire need for midwives-- no one liked the local surgeon who did little but bleed his patients and advise bedrest, while Wendy offered her services as a midwife for free, but she had her own family to attend to as well, along with an ailing father!

Kate listed point after point after point, clearly having held back on all this until she could no longer keep it to herself and Anthony, initially angry and ready to defend himself, then ashamed for some of his decisions, then completely entranced by the way she paced before the fire and how the light caught her hair, decided: she was no longer governess. She was exactly what he needed and he thanked whatever gods had smiled on him to bring her into his life.

Anthony stood-- the sudden movement had startled Kate out of her rant and she began to flush with embarrassment for speaking with such impertinence to the Lord of the estate-- he picked out a fresh new ledger, put a quill and inkpot before her, and instructed her to write down everything she had told him, recommended solutions, and order of urgency. She stared at him, gobsmacked. He rather liked the expression on her face and wondered how he could coax it from her again.

Because he was thinking of again. The two of them, working together.

He smiled when she didn't question him or ask if he was certain-- Kate seized on the opportunity with an almost alarming enthusiasm, working well into the night to fill the ledger not only with his mistakes, but also what he'd done well. The records were not a list of all the wrongs he had to right, but unfolded as a story of the day to day goings on of the estate-- it was invaluable because being able to trace the history of a problem, going back to its roots, helped immensely in finding the best solution. Things his tenants, solicitors, stewards, bailiffs, land agents would never tell the Lord of the estate, they told Kate. She was one of them. She knew them, they knew her, they knew Appa and Mary and little Edwina.

Mary was the one who knew almost everyone's birthdays and anniversaries thanks to her years as informal hostess; she sent Kate her journal, which was filled with little details about what color ribbon Peggy liked, that Richard couldn't eat anything with nuts, to make sure to send some cake to Widow Darby on the date of her son's death, fallen in the war against Napoleon. It was Kate who continued this tradition and the once young but distant Viscount Bridgerton became-- not necessarily someone they thought a friend, but someone they trusted had good reason for making the decisions he made, even if they did not like or understand why he made them.

They were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, rather than complaining in the pub that their new Lord Bridgerton didn't know a pumpkin from a potato.

The Viscount could be relied upon to always send a little gift for the children's birthdays. He would always provide a fine bottle of wine for a wedding celebration, and a basket of treats-- tea, sweets, an orange-- for the newly married couple. Viscount Bridgerton always arranged for food to be delivered to a grieving family and fresh flowers for the funeral.

In the grand scheme of his income, these little expenditures cost less than a visit to the modiste, but they made a world of difference in the amount of goodwill he gained. People felt like he cared. And in truth, Anthony did care, but in a distant way-- the difference in class was too wide a divide for him to ever understand those in his employ, nor would they dare impose on him, an important member of the peerage with duties to King and Country, certainly too busy with Parliament and business to be notified of the birth of Freddie's sixth baby, a boy.

The good people of the Bridgerton estate would have felt a bit uncomfortable accepting some of the finer gifts sent by the Viscount (silk embroidery thread for Emily's sixteenth birthday! A fine cotton cravat for Charlie's seventeenth birthday, perfect to wear for assemblies!) accompanied by a handwritten note if it had been from the Viscount.

But it was from Kate. They all came to recognize her hand. She was one of them. She was discreet; she was clever and wise like her father; she only alerted the Viscount of truly pressing matters-- they need not worry about burdening him with small details. With Kate as intermediary, the dynamic subtly changed.

And Anthony found himself with more free time to attend to his other duties, spend time with his siblings, learn the delicate ins and outs of power plays in Parliament, being to cultivate a reputation for himself in London while Kate managed his affairs in Kent.

They were a good team-- they were an incomparable team. He decided early on that he did not want them to work in separate rooms. It was what was proper, but he loved the easy conversation they had, the way he could ask her to check his calculations as she stood in front of him and he resisted putting his hands around her waist. Her frown when she read a letter, asking him of some issue they'd previously discussed two nights prior, knowing he would have an answer on hand or that they would argue over this point.

Kate initially resisted joining the meetings Anthony had with his steward, solicitor, various other individuals for estate management, but she quickly gave in when he constantly sent for the footman to fetch her from the children's lessons, asking for details or clarification on some point she was more familiar with-- or even some point she knew he already knew, but brought her into the meeting just to vex her.

The arrangement was not quite as unusual as Kate thought-- there were many wives among the ton who were far more astute than their husbands in financial matters. The only difference here was that Kate was not the lady of the house, but a governess. If the men in the meeting saw the way Lord Bridgerton looked at Miss Sharma, they held their tongues. Miss Sharma, for all intents and purposes, seemed oblivious to his obvious attraction.

If she had been older-- if she'd had a chance to debut, or had been courted, she would have recognized the signs. However, Kate came into Lord Bridgerton's employ at the age of eighteen and had known she would never marry since thirteen. The period of time during which girls blossomed to women, became more focused on the attentions of men, learned how to present themselves in manners meant to catch a husband, came to explore their bodies, desires, learn what it was to lust-- Kate did not dedicate her energies.

Appa and Mary tried to argue the point, but Kate had always been practical. She would much rather spend time perfecting her horsemanship, advancing her knowledge in a variety of topics because she would surely become a teacher or a governess, if she was to make her way in the world. Certainly she grew into a tall, elegant, beautiful young woman, but she was aloof to the attentions of men. She did not seek them nor did she find it particularly important to pay attention. What was more important was to discover whether Mr. Shaver was lying regarding his monthly profits and taking advantage of Appa's good nature.

This was not to say she did not notice the changes surrounding her-- after all, the attentions of her friends seemed to transform overnight to the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker's sons. But she always felt like an outsider looking in. Those girls could have children. They would go on to have families. Kate would not. She felt herself different within, fundamentally-- it created a mentality where the longing looks young men in town sent her direction did not mean the same thing as they would have when directed to Heather. Obviously, those looks for Heather signaled attraction and desire. The same looks for Kate signaled nothing. There was no hope or future in it, nowhere for it to go, no chance for a greater love.

Society liked to dress up in pretty words and manners a truth that Kate could not avoid: her value lay solely in her ability to have children. A woman's value was the same as the value of chattel and breeding stock, no matter what people liked to say. It was one thing to be fertile and choose not to have children; it was another to be unable to have children at all. Kate was, in the eyes of the powers which created the rules of the era, de facto undesirable, no matter how pretty she might be on the outside.

Mary made her very much aware of the danger of telling anyone of the fact of her barrenness. There were any number of unscrupulous characters who would seek to harm her, force themselves on her, simply because she could not have children. They would take advantage of her to use her body for their pleasure, so she must guard the secret with her life.

When Kate told Lord Bridgerton, it was a gamble. However, she was a good judge of character, and she relied on Lord Bridgerton's respect of Appa's memory not to make untoward advances.

Thus, she might catch him looking at her at times, but it signified nothing. There was no future in it; it was only carnal desire. Kate did not even consider the possibility of deeper feelings. It did not occur to her to contemplate love.

Love existed for women who could bear children, who could be courted. It did not exist for women like her.

If the fever had caught her a few years later-- if she'd had the chance to seriously entertain the attentions of the opposite sex and return them, all in the hopes of falling in love, marrying, having a family-- Kate likely would not have seen herself through this warped mirror.

But it did not. The fever burned through her before she could even have such dreams. She was satisfied with the love of her family and the affections of her many friends.

With each year that passed and each change her friends went through, Kate grieved. She sobbed at night that she could never hope to fall in love and have a husband. She sobbed that she would never have children. Never have a wedding, never be fitted for a trousseau, never join the conversations of women laughing about the antics of their little ones, never join the circle of women who seemed to share an unknown understanding which came with motherhood, being a wife, being courted, being loved. She sobbed each time she was attracted to a boy, or a man, and forced herself to get rid of that feeling because there was nowhere it could go.

Kate went through so many different small griefs, things she never knew she would grieve. A bouquet of flowers. Cake. Kisses. Jealousy between friends fighting over a man, flattery of two men fighting over her, heartbreak, healing, the fluttering of love.

A woman's value lay in having children. Without children, a woman's virtue was worthless. And for a woman whose virtue was worthless, she became prey to every man of her acquaintance. Because Kate knew how it worked: whispers would spread. Men would look at her with lust and speculation. She would always have to be on guard.

She knew, because there were some girls who gained reputations as being "loose." For many of these girls, it was not a reputation they ever wanted. It happened because they lay with a boy, a man, they thought they would marry, or they thought had loved them-- in many cases, love and marriage were synonymous. But after laying with them, after the man broke his promise, he would brag to his friends. And his friends would come looking.

Especially if that man was of higher rank.

Lord Bridgerton might look, but Kate knew as surely as the sun rises every morning-- it meant nothing. She found that she did not mind that he looked-- he was handsome and kind, with a quick sense of humor and a lovely smile. It was flattering, to know she was attractive despite her inability to bear children. However, that is all it was. Friendship was possible; love was not.

Love was for women who had a future.

Kate's future had been taken from her long before she could dream of one at all.

Despite taking from his a huge portion of his responsibilities as Viscount, Kate was as stubborn as Anthony and insisted that because she had been hired as a governess, she would teach the children something. That something turned out to be arithmetic, mathematics, and geography, because Kate was of the firm belief that everyone should know how to count money, at the very least, and know how to navigate a map should they ever get lost. The arithmetic she taught was not simply a matter of sums, but also things like "if it March 12 is a Tuesday, what day does April 14 fall on?" Maps did not only include cities and roads, but learning geography through astronomy (as though they were sailors, Anthony had remarked one night, joining the children outside whilst Kate pointed out the constellations-- she glowed with the moon).

Anthony could read women, at least when it came to attraction. He knew Kate was aware he was attracted to her, but he simply did not know what to make of her reaction. She seemed-- amused? She bore it the same patience she had while teaching Eloise the cardinal points of a compass?

She wasn't indifferent and there was no condescension. She acted as though his desire for her was for another Kate, an identical twin somewhere up in the clouds, not the flesh and blood woman in front of him. It was the most infuriating and puzzling thing because Anthony had never encountered such a reaction.

Women melted for him. It was as simple as that. Or they put up resistance, then melted for him. Or flirted. In the end, he was handsome, he knew it, and it always worked to his advantage.

Kate looked at him like he was Michelangelo's David: beautiful to look at, wonderful to admire, evoking feelings in her because the art was sublime, but ultimately stone. Unable to touch her, and if she ever touched a marble statue to feel the shape of it's muscles, it was to admire the skill of the sculptor, not because it made her burn with desire.

She would make strange comments that made him pause. Recalling that Matthew, some boy in town, had for a summer followed her around with lovestruck eyes, but that he finally came to his senses and fell in true love with Alice; they were now married with a child on the way. Anthony had asked why she thought Matthew had not been in love with her and she simply said it was different, he didn't know her.

For the longest time, Anthony thought 'didn't know her' simply meant it was a surface infatuation with no deeper connection. It took at least two years for him to finally understand: Kate did not think a deeper connection was possible. He supposed in some sense this was true-- had Anthony been courting her and come to know that she could not have children, no matter how attracted to her he might be, he would likely have ended his courtship and their relationship would always be defined by that line. It was only because she was in his employ that he had this unprecedented opportunity to truly come to know her.

The following two years was a steady, determined campaign to make her understand that he had fallen in love with her-- the whole of her.

In the meantime, Anthony sated his physical appetites with women who looked nothing like Kate. He saw, initially, that she had been jealous. That jealousy lasted all of a week before she treated his assignations as another errand: go to Parliament, dine at White's, bed his mistress, come back to the house. She even bought flowers for him to give his mistresses after their performance on the stage or for their birthday or whatever obscure reason he had no idea why yet still dutifully delivered the bouquets and small gifts.

His mistresses recognized that the gifts were not ones that a man could ever think to give and in the most bewildering turn of events in his life, they often became friends with Kate. They talked about her with him after sex. They kept her secrets. He did not even know Kate had secrets she kept from him!

The month Mary was ill and Kate had to leave him and the children for Somerset was one of the most miserable in his life. He felt like he was completely adrift. The children missed her terribly, the staff missed her terribly, his solicitor and steward asked for Mary's address in Somerset so they could send letters wishing for Mary's speedy recovery. Anthony's mistress was worried for her. It demonstrated something he already knew but did not truly know: she was woven into every aspect of his life.

Anthony listened for her footsteps constantly. He waited to hear her voice in the children's schoolroom. He always made some comment in the evening only to be met with silence. The staff forgot she wasn't there and laid out a place for her at the table. The children asked for her every single day.

It was enough to make him consider moving Lady Mary to London-- buying a townhome just for Lady Mary and Edwina so that Kate would never spend another day away from him and the children. In fact, he was looking into it with Nelson when he received a letter that Lady Mary was improved, Kate was coming home back to Bridgerton House.

He and Nelson still studied the possibility of buying a townhome. Nelson suggested he raise it with Kate.

Which he did. After the children suffocated her with affection and all sorts of anecdotes, the staff fluttered all around her with gossip, his mistress demanded he arrange a meeting for them in a discreet part of town, his steward monopolized her time on estate business. Anthony felt like it was another month before he had her to himself.

He couldn't help it when, one evening when she entered their study (and it was their study), before she could even take a seat, he closed the door, grabbed her waist and pulled her into his body because it had been unbearable, the time they'd spent apart.

Anthony knew he was well and truly gone on her.

This simply cemented, physically, viscerally, that he was well and truly gone; she was a part of him now. He was less than half a person without her.

He didn't say any of these things, understanding now that words didn't reach her in the same way actions did. Anthony felt her slowly relax into him and admit, softly, that she had missed him dearly also. That she thought of him every day, wondered how the children were doing, wondered how he was managing with his duties, thinking of their study, remembering what she would have been doing if she was at home Bridgerton House.

That she considered Bridgerton House her home filled him with fierce pride and an unbearable tenderness.

Kate belonged to him.

They belonged to each other.

All he needed to do was make her see it.

#bridgerton #kathony #fanfiction #governess au

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