#Commie tears

[apangkatdua]

please just hug yourself tonight.

[burning-sol]

me trying to come up with my own designs is always such a weird process. i dont know how i landed on these two looking like this but i am now attached. theyre t4t btw..... if you even care............

[centricider]

both authunity and leftist unity are real 2 me there i said it

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

Holy shit, ok, I was not expecting Mega Monster Battle to throw a dying Ultraman at me.

[the-ginger-is-loose-again]

Reading a book called "Jurassic Park and Philosophy" and this is my favorite line so far:

"Rather than taming the revolutionary urge to demand fairness and equality by the working class with numbing entertainment, the dinosaurs are tamed with electric fences. Once that mechanism for domination breaks down, there’s nothing to stop the exploited class from seizing power and taking control of what used to be the capitalist dream of Isla Nubar."

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: scout, soldier, medic, and spy

↳ warnings: mentions of surgery and alcohol

↳ song: runaround sue—dion

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭

• He’s such a doofus. It takes him at least a month to pick up on it

• The entire time you’re flirting or making moves on him, he’ll jokingly reciprocate it under the impression that you’re just joshing around

• It takes one of the other team members approaching him for the mercenary to realize what was actually going on

• “Son.” Engineer had sighed as he stood in the doorway to Scout’s very messy room, “You do realize they like you?”

• Scout’s very dismissive and red faced about it

• “What? Psh. Stop messing with me, Engie. Don't you have sentries to build or somethin’?”

• The second Engineer leaves, he’s practically tearing up his room in a tirade of emotions

• Overthinks the past few months with you way too much. Practically wears a spot into the floor from all the nervous pacing he does

• In the end, Scout confronts you to ask you out

• Tries to be formal, but we all saw how that turned out with Miss Pauling. Eventually just gives up on trying to be suave— and not succeeding —to blurt out what he’s thinking

• “So, uh, yeah. I’m not so. Er. Good at this sappy stuff, but there’s a Tom Jones museum I think we could go check out. Together.” Scout pauses, accent only getting thicker with worry, “Alone. Y’know?”

• Over the moon when you say yes. All nerves dissipate and are immediately replaced with a cross between a smug and relieved victory

• If you look close enough at his ears, they’re a little pink

𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫

• If he hasn’t known you for long, Soldier will actually just chalk your actions up to being a communist spy

• A very exasperated Demoman had to get Miss Pauling to bring in heavily classified paperwork on you just to prove to him you weren’t a commie

• “Very well maggot! I’ll believe you— for now! Sleep with one eye open!” Soldier had barked, slamming down your file on the dining room table as a tired Pauling watched. You noted that the papers were upside down, and you doubt he even read them. Or that he could read

• He’s very blunt with everything. Words, actions, emotions, etc. Doesn’t understand why other people can’t just do the same. It would make conversation so much easier to him

• So he’s not oblivious to your attention per se. Just very curious, I suppose

• It takes maybe less than two weeks after the Communist Incident, as Demo had dubbed it, for him to corner you

• “Maggot! Do you find me attractive?” He demanded

• You’d been eating breakfast at the time, and almost choked to death on your laughter at the question

• “Short answer, yes.” You gasped through wheezy laughter, the volume only increasing at the frown on Soldiers face. “Follow up question; is that really how you just asked if I had a crush on you?”

• Nods and booms back that he thinks you’re also easy on the eyes. Proposes the idea of doing a training course with you sometime. Breaks out into a crooked grin when you accept

• “Excellent! I expect you up at oh five hundred for the course tomorrow!” He saluted you, which was Soldier equivalent to a bone crushing hug of respect

• You returned it, and missed the way his eyes crinkled with happiness behind the brim of his helmet

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜

• Always so consumed in his work that he probably just ends up finding out from Archemedies

• The birds had always been allowed to rest on your shoulder while he performed risqué experiments on you, acting as a distraction from the feeling of someone sifting around in your guts

• I guess the dove had picked up on one too many looks you’d tossed the ex-doctors way

• To this day, no one can understand how the two of them can communicate, but one thing leads to another and suddenly Medic is looming in your doorframe silently

• “What’s up, doc?” You’d greeted him with a Bug’s Bunny quote and a grin. Medics lips only twitched up slightly as he pushed his glasses back up the brim of his nose

• “A little bird told me zhat someone has a crush, ja?” He barreled right into the topic, leaving no room for you to prepare for the sudden accusation. Medics scrutinizing gaze didn’t miss the way your eyes glanced in the direction of his lab, no doubt silently cursing Archemedies

• “No need to fear, freund.” He unclasped his gloved hands from behind his back and approached you. “I simply am here to offer you a deal.”

• Turns out the deal was a chance talk over cheap beer in his office. Pretty rare, considering how much of his time Medic chose to dedicate to work

• “I’ll take it.” You shook his hand, briefly noting how large it seemed even when compared to you

• “Vunderbar, mein schatz.” Medic smiled gently, leaving you to wonder what he had just said

𝐒𝐩𝐲

• There is no hiding when it comes to this French fuck

• Spy immediately picks up on every glance. Every chance of avoided eye contact and unnecessary clearing of a throat

• Suddenly he seems to be a lot more talkative towards you than normal. Hanging out by your side at gatherings rather than a dark corner with cigarette smoke curling around his head

• Fleeting touches slowly begin to sprinkle themselves in between conversation. A hand on the shoulder here, and a brief touch to the pulse point there

• The first time he did the latter, he noticed how fast your heart was beating and couldn’t stop himself from letting out a slight chuckle

• If he was nicer, Spy would definitely take action and approach your first. In fact, sometimes he almost finds himself wanting to

• But the man knows how people work. If you truly wanted to pursue him, you would come around eventually. No point in making rash decisions. He was a patient man, after all

• A small part of his ego preened at the thought of making you work for it

• And come around you did eventually did

• Finds himself opening the door to his smoking room one late night only to be met with the image of a very frazzled looking you

• You rush out something about a date too fast for his ears to catch. Spy is simply too busy letting his eyes roam over your casual cloathing and slight fidgeting. The crooning of an old French record plays from behind him as he blinks down at you

• “Would you like to come in?” He finally sighs out, opening the door a little wider in the form of an invitation

• By the time you manage to get inside, you notice he already had a wine glass set out for you

[spaceisout]

𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 // 𝙠𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙤 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙢𝙞

Pairing: keigo takami x f!reader

Words: 2.055

Summary: being married young was never in either of your plans, more or less being married to a hero and a quirkless human. still, it made an interesting switch to your lives, one you might not regret.

Warning(s): angst, fluff, slight cursing

A/n: this is a mini series that i have in mind, i hope you like it and any feedback is appreciated thank you!

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0 ◁ II ▷ 2

"You look beautiful, honey." your dad said smiling down at you with tears in his eyes not believing his only daughter had gotten married.

"Thank you, dad." you said holding onto both his hands tightly.

"We are going to miss you so much." he held the side of your face, "Please remember to call us everyday, okay? Don't forget to come and visit."

A faint smile rested on your lips nodding at his reminders. "I promise... I'm sure I will have plenty enough time to stay in touch."

"Sweetie," your mom spoke walking up behind you and rested her hand on your shoulder. "Your husband is waiting for you."

"Right," your mom stood next to your dad, looking both at them you did your best to smile making sure they didn't leave feeling worried about their daughter. "I should get going then I do not want to make him wait any longer."

"You're going to be just fine, okay?" she smiled teary eyed.

You nodded, "I know, mom."

"I promise to take care of her." Keigo said as he walked up from behind you and wrapped his arm around your waist. "I won't let anything happen to her, Mr. and Mrs. (last name)."

"We know, Keigo." your dad said, "I know our daughter will be happy by your side."

"I will." you said, "I'm..." you breathed out chuckling trying to stop yourself from crying. "Going to miss you both."

"We'll visit every time we can." Keigo assured you, rubbing the side of your waist in a comforting motion. "I can always drop you off whenever you'd like to see them."

"I'd like that."

"Well, off you go now!" Your dad said, ushering you two out of the reception hall. "I know you two would like to be alone now, we won't hold you back anymore."

"I hope you two enjoy your time together." Your mom said sadly smiling as she watched you two getting into the private limo.

Looking both at them you waved goodbye and send them an air kiss before getting inside. Keigo spoke to them for a few seconds and soon joined you inside as well.

"Off to your house, I assume sir?" the driver asked looking at him from the rear view mirror.

"That's right, Kenji." he responded and turned to you as Kenji began to drive away. "I told your parents to help me pack some of your belongings, they should be there at my house already. If there's anything you might be missing I can send someone to go get them for you."

"Oh okay, thank you." you said looking down at your lap shyly, realizing the minimal space you had. "I should be fine since my parents know me... but I will let you know in case."

"Listen..." he gently placed his hand on top of your own, which caused you to blush. "I know we barely know each other, and I'm sure you did not plan on marrying someone like me." a chuckle escaped his lips, earning a sly smile from you. "But I will try my best to make you feel comfortable."

"I agreed to this whole thing as well," you said. "I'll be honest you are right about picturing myself and marrying someone quirkless like myself but― you shouldn't feel bad... I had the choice to say no too."

"Yeah, I know... and for that same reason when we're in public we have to make sure we do not know each other."

Your lips parted to speak but he held his hand up.

"Let me explain, because of what I do there are sometimes villains after me. I manage to catch them in time but being part of this life is unpredictable." he continued, "I made a promise to your parents that I would keep you safe and I will make sure to do that."

"From what I heard... you sometimes work with the hero public safety commission?"

"Yeah..." he mumbled. "I do things for them in exchange of them helping me and my mom out when I was a kid. Meaning... sometimes I have to do things I do not want to do."

"Do they― are they aware of our marriage?"

Keigo shook his head. "The safety commission would have been against it and I like knowing this isn't something they have under their nose."

"I see... then in public you don't know me and I don't know you?"

"That's right."

Slowly you turned your body to face the front again understanding that this was going to be just like you knew from the start. "Then I guess going out together or doing normal things is out of the question?"

"I'm sorry..."

"We're here sir." Kenji announced.

He got out of the private limo and walked over to your side and opened your door.

"Thank you, Kenji." you said and he gave you a small smile in returned.

Keigo walked over to you and extended his hand out for you to take.

Thanking him you took his hand and got out, he held the end of your dress making sure you did not step on it or tripped.

He bid his driver good night and told you to walk towards the elevators. As the doors opened you stepped inside, following you he did the same and pressed the button to the top floor.

Your eyes wandered over to the array of buttons that were on the wall, you counted at least sixty by the times the doors opened once again.

"Follow me." Keigo said slightly smiling as he still held your dress, walking beside you.

You quickly realized that this was the front door to his penthouse. There was no front door or any other main way to his place to enter which made you worried.

"Um... so can anyone just walk up to the top main penthouse and walk in... here?

"You and I are the only ones who have access to this place with these keys." he explained taking the them out of his pocket with one hand and holding one up to you. "Visitors will have to call ahead or press the button to ask for permission when in the elevator. There are cameras by entrance so you can see who they are without them knowing you are seeing them."

You nodded, trying to understand how it was possible for someone to have so much technology on their side, you took the shiny key that was attached to a red feather keyring.

"Is this... one of your actual feathers?" you asked moving your fingers gently over the soft red feathers.

A tingling sensation could be felt on his mid lower back where the end of his feathers met. Of course he did not say a thing about it and tried to ignore the feeling in his chest.

"I want you to carry that key with you wherever you go." he said, "If something happens to it it'll let me know instantly."

"And you'll come to my rescue?... Wouldn't that blow everything?"

"Don't worry about that." He said and continued to walk again down the long hallway that lead to the large kitchen. "I always make sure the fridge is stocked. Of course now that you'll be living here too you add anything as well or buy what you might need."

"Under my name?"

"Yeah, of course."

Keigo then took you around the rest of the penthouse to show you around, explaining how many rooms there were and what each room had inside. The place itself was very big with the two of you here, you wonder how it'll feel when he leaves for work and it'll be just you here by yourself.

He was very kind, letting a stranger into his home and private life. You two only met about three months ago, did not talk much but knew the basics of each other. Still, if it had been any other pro hero things would be much different. You always wondered why he even agreed to this marriage in the first place.

"I do not want to pressure you when it comes to sleeping in the same room as your husband." He said, but the word sounded so nice coming out of him. "I made sure to get help in decorating a room for you and get stuff you might need as well. Of course you can change anything you want about it too."

Turning the knob on your door, he opened it and led you inside first.It was huge compared to the room you had back at your parents house. The bed was almost triple the size of your old one, not to mention the bathroom was beautiful with a separate tub and shower.

"Keigo..." you said in awe by how much thoughtfulness he put into your room. There was even a huge vase of (favorite flower) sitting on a nightstand next to your bed. "You really... did not have to do this. I would have been fine with a simple room―"

"None sense." he stepped forward, "You're my wife now... I'm going to be sharing a home with you, the least I can do is help you feel a bit more well... comfortable."

An overwhelming feeling took over you, your body lunged into his arms, hugging him tightly around his neck. You felt grateful for the type of husband you had. People did not know how kind Keigo really was.

"S―sorry," you quickly pulled away feeling your face turn red.

Keigo chuckled, placing your veil back behind you neatly. "I'll make sure to do stuff like this if it means you welcome me back with a hug everyday then."

He tried teasing you in hopes of distracting you from seeing his wings fluttering in happiness.

You shook your head chuckling, "People should know how much you like to joke too." You bit your lip trying to hide the smile.

"Trust me it'll make me lose my charm too."

His phone then vibrated, he pulled it out to see Endeavor's name on the caller ID.

"Sorry I better take this." He excused himself, closing the door behind him, leaving you alone in the room.

"Endeavor, hey!" He exclaimed walking into the kitchen. "It's quite late for you to be up at these hours."

"I called you to let know I'll be going to kyushu."

"Seriously? Well that is a surprise. I wasn't told about you coming to visit me."

"I kept in touch with your agency but they kept saying they haven't been able to contact you." Endeavor said, "Where have you been for the last three months? I'm surprised you even picked up my call."

"Yeah I know." Keigo walked into his home office and closed the door behind him. "I've been busy working on other things, you know life of crime never stops."

Endeavor did not know whether to believe what he was saying or not. After all he had been under orders of the heroe commission safety to infiltrate the league of villains. Even so, he knew he could trust him and hopes that he will do so as well.

"I did hear there has been a rise in crimes lately." He played along, "I'll be there by tomorrow morning at your house to discuss somethings."

"No it'll be best if we meet at my agency, it's closer anyways from the train station."

"Very well then."

After hanging up, he breathed out in relief.

"Is everything okay?"

Turning around he saw you standing there dressed in different clothes. Seeing you wear that oversized sweater made his cheeks turn red.

"Y―yeah!" He smiled resting his hand against the back of his head. "I didn't talk too loud did I?"

"Oh n―no not at all!" you exclaimed with your hands shaking no along with your head. "The call took quite long... I got kinda worried."

You were really making it hard for him not to fall for you.

"Sorry about that, are you hungry?" he asked.

"A bit yeah..." you sheepishly answered, "Are you?"

"Starving actually, I have a place in mind. Is it alright if we order in?"

"Sure!"

Getting married young was never in his plans, still sitting down and eating a meal for once not alone, made him see how much he'll enjoy having someone around.

[thestobingirlie]

you understand my fave characters like no other before, are there any fic recs that you would want to bestow upon this humble ask??

this ask is about a month old lol, but here i am!!

in no particular order:

to have a friend

"Maybe life will be different soon. Now that I've been fully myself for a year, I know there's no going back. As it turns out, being a loner suits me beautifully. But there are times when I crash hard into the hope of finding my people. Friends who would stick with me through anything. A girl I can have a less hopeless crush on. There are adventures waiting for me. I know it." -Rebel Robin

Robin finds her people.

this fic is a must read!!!!! just beautiful. my favourite robin fic ever

the wine of life by littlearrows

After the Upside Down, Steve, Nancy, Robin and Vickie take the '90s to rest and grow up. Along the way, there's weddings, kids, a treehouse and one car breakdown.

(aka my stancy & rockie slice-of-life future fic)

theeee stobickancy future fic!!! it’s canon to me, no matter how the show ends lmao

honestly, all of littlearrows works are a must read, katie is a beautiful genius!!

the road goes ever on by MaryPSue

The Battle of Starcourt has been won, but its aftershocks are still rippling. Separated from the rest of the Party, Will struggles with feelings of abandonment, while El is trying to find her place with the Byers and come to terms with the loss of her powers - and the closest thing she's ever had to a father. Back in Hawkins, life is slowly returning to normal, or at least as normal as life ever is. The Party are starting to adjust to having two of their members at a distance, though everyone's still missing El and Will, Mike most of all.

But life in Hawkins never stays normal for long. Someone - or something - is following Steve and Robin, and they may not be the only ones under surveillance. A spectre from El's past makes an unexpected - and unwanted - reappearance. And an old enemy may turn out to be much more than meets the eye.

And sometimes, the bad guys are smart, too.

Separated by miles and misunderstandings, with communications failing and their enemies somehow always one step ahead, Hawkins' strange little fellowship find themselves caught between holding on and moving forward. If they want to survive to see another November, they'll have to face the past - and each other.

very fun body horror fic!!!! i just love fics that interact with the upside down outside of strict canon.

the very best people by scioscribe

“Why are you messing up my undercover operation, Steve?” Dustin said. “Do you want another tear to open up in the space-time continuum and suck us all into the Upside Down? Do you want the entire world to turn into squishy, mind-flayed zombies because you and Robin couldn’t get your shit together?”

(Or, the one where Steve and Robin go undercover in an evil suburb.)

stobin pretending to be a newly-wed married couple to go undercover. what more could i want from a fic?

minor falls, major lifts. by millcrs

“Steve.” Shiv lowers her voice an octave. “Steve. Calm down. Just let me see, okay?”

“I don’t want you to see.” He smacks her hands away, feels the cut of a modest rock nip at his knuckles. Wambsgans outdid himself.

“Where’d he get that?” Steve laughs, points, and Shiv’s eyes flicker to her finger like she forgot all about it. “Fuckin’ Macy’s?

—

“Look,” Connor says, palms up and placating. “We can point fingers at each other, or we can be honest with ourselves and blame the commies.”

st/succession crossover; steve as one of the roy siblings. i’m soooo obsessed with the entire series!!

in a strange land by MrsEvadneCake

Doom comes to Hawkins, Indiana. Population est. 30,000.

It’s cold, that’s all, and the breeze is kicking up. That’s why Steve feels the chill go up his spine like someone dropped an ice-cube down his back.

“Why wouldn’t I be real, El?”

“The Aboleth got you.”

i’ve absolutely rec’d this before, but i don’t even care because it’s literally one of the best st fics ever, and i need everyone in the fandom to read it.

nothing really sticks by rosie447

Steve cuts his hair with safety scissors in the bathroom of Family Video. Maybe he's less okay than he's been letting on.

steve trauma fic, everybody cheer!!!!!

[foxtrot-broadcasts]

Limbus Company Sinners, but it’s just all the stupid things/nicknames I like to call them/came up rn-

Might update this in the future, but don’t hold me on that

Yi Sang: Emo boy, wet beast, bird guy, crow guy, guy who needs sleep to sleep for 72 hours, sleepy guy, strangely sweet and nice, sweet fella, the most sopping wet beast in all the land, autistic creature

Faust: Fau, Faufau, Faustie, mystery lady, holder of all the secrets, mad scientist, scientist who would probably play god if she could, pale white creature

Don Quixote: Don, Don Don, Donny Boy, Donqui, happy little fella, squishable, autistic beast, adhd creature, audhd creature, gal who’s hiding so much, honorary part of the boys, friend

Ryoshu: Shu, Shushu, Ryo, Arsonist, problem child, artist who did nothing wrong, fellow artist, artist that was just feeling a bit silly, walking smoke cloud, Sinclair’s new art teacher(probably not a good thing)

Meursault: Mr.Salt, salt man, brick wall of a man, brick shithouse, dorito, reverse triangle, square man, nothing but simple shapes

Hong Lu: Lulu, Lucy, happy blue fella, pretty boy, rich boy, boy who will probably wreck me emotionally when his chapter comes, boy who is probably holding so much family trauma

Heathcliff: Heath, Heathy, cliff bar, purple, purple guy, bnuuy, bunbun, rabbit man, Peter Cottontail, romantic, secret brain cell holder, touch starved probably, unexpected favorite

Ishmael: Ishy, Ish, Fish, Fishmael, Yuri warrior, yuri supplier, fakeout brain cell holder, girl who thinks she’s the straight man (absolutely not in any sense of the word), gal who needs a 72 hour fishing trip with no issues, sea creature, buoyant, sailor, orange glob of hair and anger

Rodion/Rodya: Ro, Rody, girlie, girlfailure, fellow commie, girl who deserves to kill capitalists with axes, girl who did nothing and everything wrong, holder of so much potential and emotions

Sinclair: Sin, Sinny Boy, Clair, eclair, egg, egg boy, eggy, birdie, bird guy 2, angry chihuahua, polite man with so much rage, man who deserves to rip and tear things with his bare teeth, tired college student who doesn’t get paid enough, muffin

Outis: Oat, Oats, Oatmeal, Oatmeal Raisin, old hag (affectionate), old man (also affectionate), meemaw, Judas, strangely handsome, military gal, suck up (suspicious)

Gregor: Greg, Greggy, Greg guy, good guy, nice guy, walking smoke cloud 2, old man (still affectionate) guy that makes me sad when thinking for too long, Cappuccino Cookie, guy I would hang out and listen to, guy I would give a blanket to (when feeling nice), guy I would chuck apples at (when feeling evil)

[all-the-things-2020]

Late Night Talking - Chapter Thirteen

Summary: The aftermath of the encounter with Jonathan.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: references to rehab, loneliness, angst

Notes: This one is more serious than the other chapters but it’s something they had to go through. Things will get more rom-commy after this, I promise!

Word Count: 4300+

Tag list: @rhoorl @avastrasposts @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @gwendibleywrites @weho2kcmo

I was still cramming clothes into my suitcase when I heard the lock buzz on the door.

”What the hell was that?” Dieter said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be out of here in a few minutes,” I said.

”What the fuck? Are you packing? Em, what’s going on?”

I slammed the suitcase shut and turned toward him. “I should be asking you what the fuck is going on. But I have a pretty good idea.”

He just looked at me. He was going to make me say it. “I saw you, Deiter. I saw you kissing him. And if it was up to me you’d get another Oscar for the performance you’ve been putting on these last few months.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Oh, shit … I … he caught me by surprise.”

”He caught you and he can have you,” I said, lifting the suitcase. “I’m going home.”

He stepped in front of me. “Wait. Just calm down, Em. There’s no need to go charging off like this. We have a flight booked in the morning. Can we just talk about this?”

”There’s nothing to talk about! You were making out with someone else while we were on a fucking date.”

”I didn’t kiss him back,” Dieter said. “I swear. Like I said, he caught me by surprise and …”

”If someone surprised me with an unwanted kiss, I’d push them away. I’d tell them to stop, not close my eyes and savor the moment.” My voice shook as my throat tightened. “I believed you, Dieter. I thought you loved me.”

”I do love you,” he said. “I — I fucked up. I admit it. I shouldn’t have let Jonathan get as far as he did. I — oh, fuck!” He dropped to his knees. “Please, Em, don’t leave right now. Give me a chance to explain.”

”There’s nothing to explain,” I said sadly. “And maybe we can talk about this later on but right now … I just can’t.”

”Okay, then, we won’t talk about it, but just … stay the night. I won’t talk to you, I won’t touch you, we’ll just get some sleep and try to fix things in the morning.” His eyes were swimming with tears and as angry as I was, I couldn’t resist those puppy dog eyes looking up at me.

”I’ll stay,” I said. “But I can’t talk to you. I can’t even look at you.”

”Fair enough,” he said. “I’ll sleep on the floor or something.”

”Whatever.” I dropped the suitcase on the floor and went into the bathroom. I washed my face. My eyes were red and my face was blotchy, but I didn’t care. I stripped off my clothes and pulled on the clean bathrobe that was hanging on the back of the door. I had a nightshirt in my suitcase but I didn’t feel like going back out and rummaging through the mess to find it. I was tired and angry and as much as I wanted to get away from Dieter, I knew that going to bed was the best idea. In my condition, it really wasn’t a good idea for me to be negotiating my way around a strange city and airport in the middle of the night. Besides, changing my flight would cost money, as would an Uber or shuttle back to Dieter’s place to pick up my car. My bank account was stretched enough as it was.

When I came out of the bathroom, Dieter was sitting on the floor with his back against the side of the bed, his head in his hands. I ignored him and crawled into bed. I told myself I didn’t care if he sat there all night. I turned on my side so I was facing away from him and pulled the covers over my head. I’d been cold all day, and between the robe and the blankets, I finally managed to warm up. I was still shaking, though.

I’d lain there for at least a half an hour when I heard Dieter get up and go into the bathroom. After a moment, I heard his voice, low and urgent. I knew I should ignore him but the idea that he might be on the phone with Jonathan burned a hole in my brain. I crept out of bed and sat against the wall just outside the bathroom door. 

“I fucked up, Freddy,” Dieter said. I relaxed just a bit. He’d called his brother, not Jonathan. “I don’t know what to do,” he sobbed. ”I can’t … I don’t know what I’ll do without her.”

I should have gotten back into bed, but I stayed where I was. At that point, I figured eavesdropping was less of a crime than kissing another person.

”I don’t know,” Dieter said with a deep sigh. “I just … he was there when I came out of the men’s room and I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but he smiled at me and … you know that smile always made my knees weak. Next thing I knew, he was kissing me and I just froze. And she saw us.”

More silence.

”Yeah, she’s pretty pissed off. Not that I blame her. I did convince her not to go to the airport. I’ll try to talk to her in the morning.”

This time the silence was punctuated by sniffles and sobs.

“Yeah, me, too, man. I finally found someone who loves me for who I am, who doesn’t give a shit about whether I’m famous or rich or making her look good and …” His voice broke. “I fucked up with Mom and I fucked up with Dad and I almost fucked up with you and now … I don’t want to lose her, Freddy. I can’t lose her.” 

I crawled quietly away and back into bed. I was crying again myself, but this time it wasn’t because my heart was broken. It was because his was. And it was partly my fault. I hadn’t given him a chance to explain himself. Maybe if I had …

He stayed in the bathroom a while longer, then came out and very gently climbed onto the far side of the bed. I rolled over to face him.

”Sorry,” he whispered, his voice raw. “Did I wake you up?”

”No.”

”Do you mind if I …?”

”No. It’s fine.”

”Good night.”

I waited a long beat, then slid closer and put my arms around him. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” I said. 

He started sobbing again, his head cradled against my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I fucked up, Em, I fucked up.”

”Shh … It’s okay. You can tell me in the morning. We both need a good night’s sleep.” I ran my fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. He calmed down a bit.

”Thank you,” he said, his voice impossibly small.

”For what?”

”For giving me a chance. For not leaving. For ….” His breath hitched. 

“Putting up with your melodramatics?”

He huffed out a laugh. “For being you,” he said. “For being real.”

*****************************************************************

For once, Dieter was up before I was. I woke up to find him hunched over his phone, tapping away. He glanced up as I stretched. 

“Hey, good morning,” he said hesitantly. “Give me a sec. Just messaging Janice. Want to see if she can work me in when we get back to L.A.”

”Dieter, you didn’t mess up that badly,” I said. “I should have given you a chance to explain, should have confronted you instead of trying to run off ….”

”It’s not that,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “It’s … I woke up during the night and I wanted … I wanted to use. Like if you hadn’t been there right next to me, I’d have been on the phone looking for a hook up. And believe me, there are a thousand ways to get hold of stuff on a Friday night in New York City.”

”But you didn’t,” I reminded him.

”Only because you were here,” he said. “If you’d left like you planned to … fuck, Emily, I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I thought I’d put him behind me.”

”You aren’t him,” I said. I sat next to him and put my arm around his shoulder. “You aren’t. I would never have fallen in love with him.”

”It’s Jonathan,” he said. “He brought back a shit ton of stuff I thought I was done with.”

I laid my head on his shoulder. “Tell me about him. About what happened last night. I promise I’ll just listen.” The morning had brought me a little clarity. I had overreacted.

”I knew Jonathan back in the day, when I was in college,” he said. “We hooked up now and then but it wasn’t anything serious until after my mom died. I was in L.A. and everyone was all about the fucking Oscar and I was self-medicating pretty heavily and he showed up on my doorstep. Like literally, I opened the door one day and he was there. And the first thing he said was ‘I heard about your mom,’ and that was it. He moved in and I thought, ‘Finally, someone cares about me and not just my stupid career.’

”Freddy warned me but I was still kind of estranged from him at the time and I told him to fuck off. I thought Jonathan was in love with me and I was in love with him. We got high and fucked each other and went to parties and yeah, maybe his career got a little boost, but he was there for me. At least, I thought so.

”Then one day he tells me he’s going to London with a producer who’d offered him a role in a movie and a Lamborghini. ‘Nothing personal’ he said. And when I asked why he’d stopped loving me, he laughed and said ‘Love doesn’t have anything to do with any of this.’ And he left, and I got so fucked up I got fired from the film I was doing and everything went downhill for years until I was doing Cliff Beasts and waking up in a hospital bed.”

He sighed deeply. “While I was in rehab, Janice helped me see that Jonathan had been using me, that I was better off without him, that I’d never really loved him. But last night … Em, it scared me how much I reacted to him. How attracted I still was.”

”Attraction is instinctual,” I said. “You can’t really control it.”

”He and I have nothing in common except how much we want to fuck each other,” he said. “And I’m with you now. I shouldn’t have felt that way about him.”

”Feeling and acting are two different things,” I said. “You can be attracted to anyone who ticks the right boxes in your brain. That has nothing to do with fidelity. It’s only wrong if you act on it.”

”I let him kiss me,” he said quietly.

”You didn’t kiss him back,” I reminded him. “You get partial credit for that. And you came after me instead of leaving with him.”

”How much of my conversation with Freddy did you hear?”

”A lot,” I confessed. “I … I thought you might be calling Jonathan, so I was listening at the door. I shouldn’t have.”

”No, it’s fine. I didn’t say anything to Freddy I shouldn’t have — wanted to — say to you. I’m not good at relationships, Em. I did everything I could to make my mom love me and notice me and you know how that turned out. And I alienated my dad because I thought I had to choose sides when they got divorced. I almost trashed things with Freddy but he was smart enough to see that I needed help and he was my number one supporter when I decided to go into rehab.

”And you … I don’t know why the universe sent you to me, Emily, but it did and I don’t want to fuck this one up, because I know this time I have the chance to do things right. The night of our first date, I called Freddy and I told him I thought you were The One. And he told me to wait a year and see if I still felt the same way. It hasn’t been a year yet, but I still feel that way.”

”I think … you’re getting ahead of yourself, Deet,” I said carefully. “We’ve only known each other about four months. We’re still in the rose-colored glasses phase. I … I want to jump in as much as you do, but remember when you told me I could move in? I seriously thought about it, and I talked to my friend Sam and she told me to really think it through, to listen to my head as much as my heart. I think she and Freddy are right. We need to slow down a little. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us. If we do this right, if we take our time and put in the work, it can last.”

”It might be hard,” he said.

”I think we’re worth it. You’re worth it.”

He put his arm around me and kissed my cheek. “I ain’t worth shit, but you are more precious than anything to me.”

”Not exactly eloquent but I’ll take it,” I said. “And you are worthy, Dieter Bravo. Worthy of love and respect, just like everyone else in the world.”

”You really think we can do this?”

I looked him in the eyes. “Yes,” I said. “I think we can. I trust you, Deet. I just need to stop jumping to conclusions every time I see you near an attractive person and listen to you when you tell me you want to be with me.” I tried to smile. “You aren’t the only one in this relationship who’s a bit fucked up, you know.”

”Maybe Janice can give us a two for one special,” he said, a glint starting to shine in his eyes for the first time. “Not sure if she does couples therapy ….” His face went serious again. “I might need some time to get things straight in my head again. Might even have to go back into rehab for a little while … are you okay with that?”

”I’m okay with anything that helps you feel better about yourself,” I said. “I want you to be happy.”

”You make me happy,” he said, laying his head on my shoulder. 

I closed my eyes. “Same,” I said, the only thing I could force out around the lump in my throat. Books and movies made love look so damn easy, but this was hard. This was real. I just hoped I was strong enough to see it through.

***********************************************************

Dieter met with Janice on Monday and checked back into rehab that evening. I got a text while I was at work.

DIETER: Good session with Janice. Checking in tonight. Won’t be able to talk to you for a while but J will send updates. Love u.

Janice called about eight o’clock that night to let me know that Dieter was fine. “I can’t tell you much because of patient-doctor confidentiality, but we had a very productive session this morning and honestly, this residence is just a precaution. I think Dieter just needs a bit of a safety net right now. I don’t expect him to be in for long.”

That was one of the longest weeks in my life. Work kept me busy during the day, although it was hard to keep up the facade in front of Eileen, but the evenings were torture. I hadn’t realized how much I relied on those nightly calls from Dieter. Whether we vented about work or made plans for the weekend or just joked around, it was the highlight of my day. I missed him, missed his voice, the weird faces he made when he forgot he was on FaceTime and I could see him. I missed the feeling of connection we’d built.

Friday night, I lost it. I was alone and feeling sorry for myself and I cried. I cried for me but mostly for Dieter. I wondered if he was as lonely as I was. Outside communication wasn’t allowed during the first week of his stay, so I wouldn’t hear from him until Monday at the earliest. 

The weekend crawled by. I caught up on chores and errands, which in theory was a good thing, but by Sunday night, I was feeling even more sorry for myself. A quick peek at Facebook and Instagram showed that most of my friends and coworkers had been out enjoying life while I was grocery shopping and cleaning the toilet and folding laundry. I’d been used to it before I met Dieter — the price I gladly paid for being an independent, self-sufficient single woman — but now it just seemed soul-crushingly dull. I felt myself descending into self-pity and did the one thing I knew could pull me out of the pit. I texted Sam.

ME: Save me.

SAM: What’s going on, chickie?

I dumped it all on her: what had happened with Jonathan, Dieter going into rehab, my feelings of loneliness and futility.

SAM: You’re gonna be okay. You’ve been through worse shit in your life, Em. You should have called me sooner.

ME: I didn’t want to put it on you. It’s my mess.

SAM: How many times have I bitched to you about my life? You’re allowed to tell me about yours.

ME: It’s just Dieter’s going through this by himself. I should be able to do the same.

SAM: Hold up, he’s got a whole fricking team of experts walking him through it. You’re the one who’s by herself. 

Sam was right. I’d been trying to navigate this alone, while Dieter had Janice and the staff of the rehab facility guiding him. As much as I hated to admit it, I needed help, too.

ME: Thanks, chickie. I can always rely on you to slap me upside the head with the truth when I need it. 

SAM: Any time. And hang in there. I think he’s worth it.

ME: So do I.

***********************************************

My phone rang at exactly eight o’clock Monday evening. It was Dieter.

”Hey!” He looked excited. “How you doing, sweetie?”

”Hanging in there,” I said. “You look good.”

”I feel good. It’s been a lot of work but, yeah, I feel really good. About myself. About us.”

”Any idea when you'll be out of there? I miss you.”

”End of the week, probably. Can you … will you be able to come out to my place next weekend?”

”Of course,” I said. 

He grinned. “I’m going one hundred percent sober this time, Em. No alcohol, no edibles, nothing. And it’ll be a lot easier the first few days if you’re with me. Not that I need you to be there, but … it would be nice.”

”I wouldn’t miss it,” I told him. “And you might not need me, but I need you, Deet. I’ve missed you so much.”

”I know,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about you. I’ve got all this support and schedules and really been able to focus on shit and you’ve been dealing with work and real life. I’m sorry, babe.”

”No need to apologize. You needed to do this. And I can already see what a difference it’s made.”

I heard a timer beep somewhere behind him. “Ah, shit, time’s up. I’ve gotta go. But I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.”

”I love you, too.”

*******************************************************************

Even though his calls were brief, just talking to Dieter every night made the next week much better. When Friday came, I was champing at the bit all day. Dieter was leaving the rehab facility Saturday morning, and I wanted to be there when he got home, so I was going to make my usual Friday evening trek to Hollywood. For once I didn’t mind the traffic (well, I did, but I was in such a good mood I was able to keep my frustration to a minimum). 

The house felt hollow and empty when I went in. The cleaner had been there to dust and sweep but otherwise no one had been in the house for two weeks. It was too neat and tidy; Dieter always left a bit of chaos behind him. 

I ordered something for dinner and tried to watch TV but it just felt too lonely without Dieter. Then my phone rang.

”Hey, are you at my place already?,” he asked, squinting at the camera.

”Yeah, I wanted to be here when you get home, but … it’s kind of lonely without you. Maybe I should have driven over in the morning.”

”No, I think … I think it’s good. You can warm the bed up for me.” He winked. “I’ll sleep better knowing you’re there waiting for me.”

”Are you excited?” He seemed a bit antsy.

”Excited and scared,” he admitted. “It’s easy to be sober here, but in the real world, it’s gonna be tough. I’m glad you’re going to be there the first couple of days.”

”Me, too. I know this is scary, Deet, but you can do this. And I’ll be with you every step of the way. No matter what.”

After he hung up, I felt much lighter and the house didn’t seem so empty. It was ready to welcome Dieter home. And so was I.

************************************************

I felt like a kid waiting for Santa Claus. I was glued to the security camera feed on my phone, watching for Dieter’s car to turn into the driveway. I’d changed the sheets on the bed that morning, made sure there was coffee ready to brew in the machine, even run to the local bakery as soon as it opened to get some of those scones that Dieter loved so much. Everything was ready for him. Especially me.

I’d done a lot of thinking over the past two weeks and I felt a lot better about our relationship. It didn’t feel as fragile as it had before. I’d always been waiting for Dieter to realize he could do better than me, but after hearing him on the phone with Freddy, I felt stronger. Dieter needed me as much as I needed him. He saw me as a person, not just something that could enhance or damage his image. And I saw him fully for the first time, as a man who had been through some shit, and was doing his best to deal with it. Not a celebrity, not a dreamboat, just a guy. A guy who needed someone at his side.

And truth be told, I needed someone by my side. As much as I told myself I didn't need anyone else, I wanted to belong to someone. Not in the “I’m not complete until I have a man” way but in a “I want someone to have my back” kind of way. I had Sam but she was so far away, and she had a family and life of her own. She was there for me but I wanted — needed — something more. I wanted Dieter.

I was waiting at the door when he pulled up next to my car. He was smiling ear to ear as he got out, grabbed his bags and practically ran to the house. 

“God, I missed you,” he said, dropping his suitcases in the doorway and wrapping his arms around me.

”I missed you, too,” I said. He smelled amazing. It wasn’t just his cologne, which was subtle and spicy and woodsy. It was him. I’d missed his scent. I breathed him in until I felt like every bit of my body was full.

We barely had the door shut before he was kissing me. “There’s coffee and scones,” I managed to say in between kisses.

”Later,” he said. “Right now I just want you.”

We messed up the bed I’d so carefully made just a few hours ago, but I didn’t mind. It had only been two weeks since the last time we’d slept together, but it felt like months. Everything was new again and we took our time rediscovering each other. 

“You are amazing,” Dieter said afterwards as we lay in bed, knowing we should get up and get dressed but wanting to be lazy for just a bit.

”I didn’t do anything special,” I said. “You on the other hand …”

He shook his head. “I mean, you’re amazing for waiting for me, for listening to me, for understanding.” He toyed with a lock of my hair. “A lot of people would have bailed, especially so early in a relationship. But you stayed.”

”I had to,” I admitted. “You told Freddy you couldn’t lose me. Well, I realized that I can’t lose you. I need you, Dieter. I need you in my life. You’re the piece I didn’t even know was missing.”

He kissed me gently. “Does that mean …?”

”It means I like what we have, where we are right now. I still think we need to take things slowly, not jump into anything but … I think I know where our path is heading and I like it. And I’m looking forward to walking it with you, Deet. Side by side.”

”Hand in hand,” he said, taking my hand in his. 

“Cheek to cheek,” I said, pressing my face against his.

”Butt to butt,” he laughed, twisting around so that his butt was pressed against the side of mine.

”Why are you so fascinated with butts?”

”Because deep inside I’m still a twelve-year-old boy,” he said, batting his eyes at me.

”You know, there’s a reason I don’t work at a middle school …” I started to say, but he cut me off with a kiss that was definitely the work of a middle aged man who’d had years of practice. I was more than willing to overlook a few butt jokes for that.

[little-peril-stories]

The Queen of Lies: Nullum Magnum Ingenium

Story Intro | Content Warnings | Mood Board | Vibey Song Lyrics | Ao3

Contains: lady whump, asylum, outdated/problematic/ableist language, bullying (includes food-related taunting, Victorian-style slut-shaming, sexist language), feeling humiliated, drugging/sedation

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 4700 || Approx reading time: 19 mins

Nullum Magnum Ingenium

Teaser: This room was so cold, her teeth chattered. Perhaps the presence of a few other bodies might have dispelled the horrid chill, or even kept at bay the nightmares—horrible ones, dark and sinister, filled with screams and the blood-flecked ghost of Will’s face.

Bree awoke from an ordeal that vaguely resembled sleep, curled into a ball and shivering, her face stiff and sticky with dried tears. The night had passed slowly, filled with constant interruptions from heavy-footed nurses. Each time, they’d noisily opened her door to peer into her face. Checking, it seemed, to ensure she was alive and calm and who she said she was.

From what she understood, Baden was paying handsomely for a private room, but she had to wonder if a shared dorm wouldn’t be more pleasant. This room was so cold, her teeth chattered. Perhaps the presence of a few other bodies might have dispelled the horrid chill, or even kept at bay the nightmares—horrible ones, dark and sinister, filled with screams and the blood-flecked ghost of Will’s face.

A basin of water was delivered, its arrival foretold by footsteps and the scrape of a key unlocking her door. Bree shivered through her ablutions, splashing her face and drying it with a yellowed towel that scraped her skin. Smoothing her hair with an old hairbrush made her skin crawl; she tried not to fixate on how many other locks it had brushed before. The morning nurse, a smiling woman whose black hair was braided away from her face and tied with a pink bow, provided her with a coarse, grey dress. Bree did not object, even though it was as hideous as her slip and equally uncomfortable. It, too, was stamped with its inventory number and Greyhurst’s name.

First, property of Baden Hatchett; now, property of the asylum.

“Come along, Mrs. Hatchett,” said the nurse in a sweet, accented voice when she was done. “Shall we see what they’ve made for breakfast?”

It seemed impossible that this kindly girl could be in the same profession as the blonde gossip from the day before.

In the dining room, Bree quickly found her way to Mrs. Strickland, certain she would need the encouragement to choke down her food when she saw what was being served: unbuttered bread and bowls of watery oatmeal striped with thin drizzles of molasses.

“Remember what I told you yesterday,” said the older woman, sipping daintily at her tea. Bree’s eyes filled with tears when she tasted hers. Will’s voice came to her, complaining about a different cup of tea; now she, too, knew what tea tasted like when it was made with care and love—and when it wasn’t.

“How long have you been here?” Bree asked, trying to take her mind off the lamentable bill of fare.

Mrs. Strickland’s face fell. “Almost three years.”

Bree nearly spilled her tea into her lap—not that it would have hurt much, considering that it was lukewarm. “What?” Her face drawn but collected, Mrs. Strickland nodded. “But—I thought—Dr. Armstrong said a few months—”

“For some, yes.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Bree put down her teacup and took the woman’s hand. “I…I’m so sorry.”

Why on earth should this gentle woman have been locked away for so long? “Wh…” Fearing to pry, she cut herself off, but Mrs. Strickland grasped her question nonetheless.

“My husband and I have different ideas about how children ought to be raised.” Mrs. Strickland’s gaze, clouded with sorrow, fixed upon something on the opposite side of the room. “It was a battle I couldn’t win, since… Well, perhaps you know better than most. The law is not on our side, is it?”

Recalling Baden’s voice as he declared her forcible commitment entirely lawful, Bree shook her head.

“Some things are beyond our control, regardless of how hard we try,” said Mrs. Strickland. “Or how valiantly we fight.”

Something shivered and trembled inside Bree’s chest. That simply couldn’t be true.

But she thought of herself standing helpless, frozen, and silent as Baden walked away.

“We do our best,” said Mrs. Strickland, “with the lot we’re given. We keep going. We…” She glanced around the room, and for a moment, Bree could see the anguish swirling around her like mist. No, not just anguish; there was anger, too, and determination. Quiet, subdued—but not extinguished. “Survive.”

The rest of the meal passed largely in melancholy silence. When it was done, however, Mrs. Strickland got to her feet and informed the nurses, in a voice as reasonable as any Bree had ever heard, that she would take the new girl under her wing, if you please, and so Breanna Hatchett would accompany her for work in the sewing room. To Bree’s astonishment, no one scoffed or objected; in fact, the pink-bowed nurse beamed and said she thought it was a marvellous idea.

The sewing room was a surprisingly bright area filled with natural light and quietly chattering women. Work, Mrs. Strickland said, was part of the healing regimen at Greyhurst. Thus, much of the day would be passed with needlework, sewing clothes, pillowcases, sheets, and more.

“Saves them a great deal of money to have us do it,” Mrs. Strickland whispered with a roll of her eyes, and Bree couldn’t help but return a cynical laugh.

It was undeniably a relief to have something to occupy her mind: in every moment she wasn’t working, she fretted about whether Will was safe. If, as her slim silver needle wove in and out of her fabric, he was being locked in chains, carted away, or put to death. If each loop of her thread perfectly mimicked the deathly coil of a noose.

The first day ebbed into a second, and then a third, settling into a routine: rest, meals, work. The nightmares did not fade, nor did her sleep improve: if it wasn’t the nurses disturbing her with their stomping footsteps, it was the cries of poor souls elsewhere in the asylum. Bree burst into tears the first time she was jolted awake by a haunting, woeful scream.

Even so, her days passed in what might have been pleasant mundanity—if not for the ever-present terror that the next morning would be the one when a nurse or doctor burst in bearing news that those wicked Iustitia aecum thieves had been caught and put to death.

She was on her second pillowcase of the day when a nurse summoned her, announcing that she had a visitor. Bree’s mouth went dry. So, Baden was back. Perhaps bringing her belongings, perhaps some extra clothes.

Perhaps tidings of misery and death.

Squaring her shoulders, Bree followed the nurse from the room, her mind racing. Today, she would not face Baden with terror, hysteria, tears, or ravings. She would overpower him with strength of argument and soundness of mind, and she would convince him she had been wrongfully detained. Then, the moment she was free, she would find Will—and make sure Baden never laid a finger on him again.

It was a fine plan, or it would have been had Baden Hatchett been waiting for her.

“Breanna?”

Alice Wright stood stiffly in the parlour, twisting her fingers together. Her hands shook.

“Alice,” Bree whispered.

The afternoon light was weak and silvery. Spilling through the window, it glinted off Alice’s dark hair, and even though it was a miserable, grey sort of glow, she looked as beautiful and put-together as she always did.

Judging by how Alice clapped her hands to her mouth, Bree knew the light did not have the same effect on her.

Fleeting glances in the mirror had revealed an unpleasant truth: although only a few days had passed, her appearance was already deteriorating. There remained not a whit of shine to her hair; her skin was growing sallow; ringing her eyes were circles of dolorous, ashy grey.

Altogether, she looked positively frightful.

“Oh, Breanna,” Alice squeaked, darting forward and embracing her tightly. “What’s happened to you?”

Bree swallowed swift, smarting tears, unsure whether to be mortified or grateful that Alice bore witness to her imprisonment. Had Baden told everybody, then, that she was mad? Whenever anyone spoke the name “Hatchett” from now on, would it immediately be followed by condoling coos of, “Oh, that poor dear! Did you hear? Do you suppose they’ll ever let her out?”

But Alice merely murmured, “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he would—I didn’t know it would come to this.”

Baden hadn’t come, but Alice had.

Baden wouldn’t help her—but perhaps Alice would.

“Please,” Bree said dizzily, her heart beginning to thrum faster. “Alice, please, you must listen. I’m not mad.” She swung her head around, cognizant of how perfectly paranoid she must look even as she insisted she was sane, but what she wished to say next, the nurses could not overhear. “I need your help.”

“Breanna, I—”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be in here,” she interrupted. “Please, listen. I’m not insane. Baden, he—he’s just trying to protect his reputation, don’t you understand? Because—because I—”

Because I fell in love with someone else.

“You must find him,” Bree whispered. “And warn him.”

“Wait—”

“Please!” Bree squeezed her friend’s hands. “You have to warn…”

Will. But what meaning would that name hold for Alice? None. Fox. Why should she recognize that name over his real one? The thief—my thief. But wasn’t that much the same as confessing her crimes?

Bree froze as she realized she had not a clue of how to word her plea.

“Breanna,” said Alice gently, cupping her cheek, “perhaps you might listen to me first.” She turned to the nearest nurse, who, to Bree’s great trepidation, was Miss Dugford. “I wish to walk with my friend.”

“If you want to go outside,” said Miss Dugford sullenly, “you’ll need an escort. She roamed her gaze over Alice’s smart outfit and lofty expression—and apparently concluded that this was a fine lady who was not to be crossed or trifled with. Bree nearly collapsed with relief.

“Fine,” Alice sniffed. “Then we shall simply take a turn about the room.” With a haughty toss of her hair, she laid a hand on Bree’s arm and tugged her along.

The softest whisper tickled her ear: “I have news, but play along for a few minutes, all right?”

Alice prattled on for those few—yet agonizing—minutes, filling the air with questions. How had Greyhurst’s staff been treating her? Had she been sleeping? Was there anything she needed? Why on earth had Baden not yet sent any extra clothes? Unacceptable. Rest assured, she would arrange to have some dresses sent immediately.

After two and a half circles around the room, one nurse, clearly bored, began to plunk away at the piano in the corner, making what Bree thought was quite an unnecessary racket. A new light glowed in Alice’s eyes.

“I was sent here,” she said softly, her eyes on the musically-minded nurse, her face perfectly calm, “but it wasn’t your husband who told me you’d been committed.”

Bree stumbled to a halt. “What?”

“Shh,” Alice admonished. “Enjoy the lovely music, won’t you?” The tune was far from skillfully played, but it was loud—and distracting.

“Who sent you?” Bree whispered.

“A terribly rude young man.”

As it sank in what this meant—the only person Alice could mean—Bree’s eyes filled with tears.

“Stop reacting!” Alice said quickly. Raising her voice, she said, “Now, Breanna, I know you’re terribly homesick, but—” She wavered. “Remember, we all just want what’s best for you. No doubt you’ll be feeling much better soon.”

Will. He didn’t hate her after all.

“He sought me out,” said Alice quietly, “all for you.”

Washed away by these words was the conviction that Will despised her for dooming Jamie—but Bree’s relief was accompanied by horror. “He did?” When the constables could have found him at any moment? “Was he all right?”

“Well, I thought he was rather vulgar. But…” Alice nodded. “He seemed unhurt. Only…upset.” After a pause, she added, “And really quite incorrigible.”

Although she laughed, Bree’s throat ached with gratitude. Will, her Will—so reckless. Too reckless. “Alice, you have to warn him. Baden wants him dead. If you see him again, you must send him away. He can’t be caught.”

Alice’s face fell as she laid a hand on Bree’s arm. “He knows.”

“He—how?”

Whispering even more quietly now, Alice said, “A new arrest warrant. It says he’s done…terrible things. Awful things. To you.”

Bree’s hands moved of their own accord, taking hold of the end of her braid and combing through the ends. Every muscle seemed to tremble. “Alice, it’s not true. He didn’t. He wouldn’t.”

“So he insisted,” Alice said. “As did his friend. A woman.”

Colette was trying to help her, too? Bree pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to keep her sobs reined in.

“It’ll be all right,” said Alice soothingly, passing another worried glance around the room, apparently determining that Bree’s distress had grown too conspicuous. “You’ll be right as rain before you know it.” She took Bree’s hand again.

Something circular passed from Alice’s palm to Bree’s.

Quiet as a falling petal, Alice whispered, “I’m here to seek a way in, and I think I’ve found it.”

Without giving Bree an opportunity to react, she burst into loud, cheerful chatter. “Now, let’s rest for a few minutes before I go. Shall I tell you all about the literary society? No doubt you’ll be joining us in no time.”

They rested upon a poorly cushioned bench by the window. With a furtive glance around, only half-listening as Alice described the literary society’s current book and detailed her husband’s latest travels with the military, Bree glanced at the item in her palm.

A roughly carved coin, decorated on both sides: on one face, a tree with ringed roots, and on the other, two letters.

I.A.

Praying her shaking hands wouldn’t cause her to drop the precious gift Will had sent her, Bree slipped the coin into her stocking. She would not allow the nurses to see it, to find it, to parse its meaning—or to take it away.

His meaning, unwritten but clear: I’m coming for you.

“Don’t forget what Mr. Hawthorne said,” said Alice suddenly.

Bree frowned, trying to remember which quotation from The Scarlet Letter her friend meant.

“‘Do anything…’” Alice began, and Bree’s heart lifted.

“‘Do anything,’” she recited, “‘save to lie down and die.’”

“A dear friend once told me that,” said Alice, wiping her eyes. “I’m still trying to determine if she was wise or foolish, in the end.”

For the first time in days, when Bree laughed, it felt neither heavy nor forced. “You know,” she said, “I think you’d get along with him rather well. Once you got to know him. My…friend.”

Alice raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know about that. He frightened me, at first. And the way he curses!” Still, her lips turned upwards. Slightly. “Perhaps I shall have to take your word for it.”

Interrupting the contemplative silence that fell between them, Dr. Armstrong approached. Although he retained his usual mild demeanour, he seemed pleased. “You’re smiling, Mrs. Breanna.” If Alice found it indecorous that he referred to Bree by her first name rather than her last, she did not say so, although her mouth twitched. “I’m delighted to see that. Your friend’s visit has done you good.”

“Yes,” said Bree, praying he could not detect a suspicious amount of exuberance in her expression. “It certainly has.”

“You’re a doctor here?” asked Alice, getting to her feet.

Imperturbable and unoffended as ever, the doctor merely said, “I’m Dr. Armstrong, assistant physician.”

With sparks in her eyes, Alice strode up to him, held out her hand for a shake, and said, “Dr. Armstrong, my name is Alice Wright, the wife of Major Roger Merritt Wright of the 34th Regiment, and I would like to return to your hospital for a visit of a different sort. I noticed you have a lovely piano in the corner there, and I was touched by how—er—pleasing it was to have some music this afternoon.”

Bree blinked, wondering where Alice was leading this conversation, for no one with any taste would find the nurse’s playing pleasing to the ear.

“I was thinking,” Alice went on before he could interject, “of how nice it would be if I returned with a—erm—friend to play some music for the patients here. Might we discuss this?”

“Oh…” Dr. Armstrong appeared to give her proposition earnest consideration. “I suppose we could bring it to Dr. Richards and see what he says.”

“Splendid,” said Alice. “I’m sure he’ll agree that it would be ever such a nice thing to do. Music is simply delightful for the soul, isn’t it?”

Dr. Armstrong agreed, sending an affectionate look toward the shabby piano.

“Do you play, doctor?” Bree asked, a little surprised and genuinely curious.

“Well, not anymore,” he said, and she was rendered quite astonished, almost charmed, when his face turned red.

“Oh, but you did!” said Alice delightedly. “Why, then we simply must arrange this visit! Please, Dr. Armstrong, take me to see Dr. Richards right away.” Without giving him a chance to refuse, Alice gave Bree one quick embrace, bade her farewell, and led him toward the door. The sound of her airy laughter drifted away, more beautiful than any music.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone.

Bree stood still, heart pounding and hands tingling. Had that really just happened? Had Alice been there, slipped her an Iustitia aecum coin, promised to help her, and then vanished? It seemed impossible.

Yet the coin in her stocking insisted that something had been set in motion, a firm foundation laid.

For a plan.

For, she dared to hope, the plan that would see her once again set free.

***

If Bree went to dinner with her heart soaring, it did not take long for it to plummet.

“Madam Lawbreaker had a visitor today,” said Miss Dugford loudly toward upon seeing Bree. “Didn’t you, Mrs. Hatchett? Did you have a simply lovely time with your friend?”

Biting down hard on the tip of her tongue, Bree nodded and brace herself for whatever stinging remark or hissed innuendo was coming her way.

“I’m astonished,” said Miss Dugford. “The poor girl must not know what manner of people you associate with the rest of the time. Did you deceive her, too?”

Bree ignored her. Finding her prey dissatisfactory, Miss Dugford turned away, shifting her attention to a younger girl instead.

“Look at this! How shameful,” she said mockingly, pointing to the girl’s half-eaten meal. “You must eat up. It’s not healthy to eat so little, you know. And it’s so terribly ungrateful of you to leave half your food on the plate.”

The girl stared down in distaste at her lump of boiled beef, mumbling, “I’ve eaten my fill.”

“Are you quite sure about that?” Miss Dugford sighed dramatically and addressed another nurse. “These rich girls, wasting food like it’s nothing. Disgraceful!” She tutted, and the girl’s face flushed deeply, her eyes filling with tears. “Or perhaps her condition is worsening. A healthy young girl in her right mind wouldn’t refuse such a meal, would she?”

The girl ducked her head and said nothing. A tear dripped off her chin, splashing against the wooden tabletop.

“A woman in her right mind wouldn’t go anywhere near this meal,” Bree said.

Sharp intakes of breath up and down her table reminded her that talking back to any of the nurses, but especially this one, was ill-advised. At the moment, however, Bree didn’t care. She didn’t want Nurse Dugford’s attention, either, of course. But the poor girl looked so forlorn. So helpless.

If no one ever said anything, then what would it take to make that horrid woman hold her tongue?

“How extraordinarily impolite!” Said Miss Dugford, crossing her arms. “Didn’t you ever learn to mind your own business? Really, Mrs. Hatchett, you ought to be a bit more agreeable. More grateful. You’ve been given such a lovely place to stay while our kind doctors do their best to cure you of your nympho—” She paused dramatically. “Well, as I have a sense of propriety, I won’t say it here.”

Bree’s throat threatened to close up and choke the very words out of her. But instead of fixating on her atrocious meal, she looked up and met Miss Dugford’s gaze. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. Perhaps you should say it.”

The nurse merely clicked her tongue and drifted away. “See? She is a hopeless case.”

“Don’t do anything untoward,” Mrs. Strickland said, clinging to her arm. No doubt she could see Bree’s fingers clenching into fists. “You’ll only regret it.”

Bree forced her breaths to calm.

It was a relief when Dr. Armstrong, making his rounds through the room, paused next to her, a smile on his face. “I must say, Mrs. Wright was very persuasive. We shall have a concert tomorrow.”

“What wonderful news!” she said, her mood buoyed by the sudden smiles beaming around her. “That will be lovely, I’m sure.” For everyone, of course, but especially, if Alice’s whisper was any indication, for her.

Oblivious to the plot he’d unwittingly abetted, Dr. Armstrong smiled again, lightly patted her hand, and moved on.

From where she stood, Miss Dugford watched them with her eyes narrowed. Bree threw her an indignant glare, resolving to keep her spirits undampened.

In this endeavour, she was successful—until it came time to exit the dining room, when Miss Dugford slithered toward her again.

“You seem quite taken with Dr. Armstrong,” she said coolly. “Everyone sees it.” Beneath the glow of the gas lights, her green eyes glittered menacingly. “How terribly improper. He’s a physician. A professional. Are you looking for special treatment or something?”

“I’m not taken with anyone,” Bree said through gritted teeth. “He was just telling me about the tomorrow’s concert.”

Something about today felt different; a crueller gleam burned in Miss Dugford’s gaze.

Bree knew she should duck her head and walk away. The coin in her stocking whispered to her softly: if only she could hold out, suffer just a little longer, her imprisonment would soon be over, and the gaping hole in her heart would soon be filled.

Miss Dugford giggled, shrill and girlish—more a caterwaul, a banshee’s scream. “Well, I’m no doctor, but it certainly seems to me that you’re utterly incurable. Married to such a prominent, respectable gentleman with a good job, then running off with a thief? Now throwing yourself at Dr. Armstrong? Why, there’s no fixing such deplorable promiscuity, is there?”

Hot, tingling prickles swept up and down Bree’s entire body.

“Your poor husband,” Miss Dugford sneered. “And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but your poor crook, too. I wonder what they’d say, seeing how you conduct yourself in here. No wonder your constable hasn’t come to visit.” Her head tilted to the side. “And your thief, well, he can’t, can he? He’d be arrested before he made it through the gates.”

Bree heard Mrs. Strickland calling her—Let’s go. Come away. Go on to bed.

“Be quiet,” Bree said, “and leave me alone.”

“But you know…” Miss Dugford continued, still tittering. “Supposing he could. Perhaps he wouldn’t be surprised at all. A man like that, straight from the gutter—why, I’m sure he’s very used to whores and trollops. Just like y—”

The slap of Bree’s palm against Miss Dugford’s cheek echoed through the entire dining room.

Aside from the gasps of alarm that rose among the women who had borne witness, there was only silence.

“How dare you?” Bree demanded. “You don’t know a single thing about me.”

“Did you see that?” Miss Dugford screeched. “You all saw that, right? She hit me!”

“Mrs. Hatchett, really!” one of the other women said. Perhaps it was Mrs. Strickland, horrified, disappointed. Perhaps it was someone else. Bree didn’t care.

Because Miss Dugford, clutching a hand to her bright red cheek, opened her big mouth again.

“Looks like Mrs. Hatchett’s time consorting with the scum of the earth was even more influential than we thought.” Her face contorted into a grimace—animalistic, bloodthirsty. “Were you always a violent little cow, destined to end up here from the start, or was it that Wardrew man who taught you?”

The name no one else was supposed to know struck Bree more fiercely than any blow.

Bree did not realize she had leapt for Miss Dugford until two pairs of arms grabbed her and dragged her away.

“How do you know his name?” It was her voice, she knew, crying out like that, but it came from somewhere far away, impossibly far. The voice of a woman gone feral, panicked and overcome.

And trapped.

Miss Dugford couldn’t know Will’s name, yet she did. Which meant that someone, somewhere, had told the police, and the police had told the rest of the world. Was it Jamie? Had he buckled under the pressure Will had suffered so keenly to withstand? Had someone else informed on IA? Or—worst of all—had the others been caught?

What if, at that very moment, Will was in chains again?

“How do you know?” she cried, tears already streaming down her cheeks.

“Everyone knows!” Miss Dugford snarled, scrambling away. “Wardrew, Marks, Haris! You just haven’t heard because you’re locked up like the bloody lunatic you are!”

Every name—revealed.

All her allies—doomed.

“That’s quite enough!” Dr. Richards bellowed, but Bree barely heard him.

She had consoled herself with the conviction that even if every constable was looking for a man with red-brown hair, hazel eyes, a tattoo, and a price on his head, Will was still protected by his anonymity, and that his name and whatever history remained attached to it would stay hidden long enough for him to get away.

But if everyone knew…

Something pricked her arm. It hurt—but it paled in comparison to the ache inside her soul.

“To your room at once, Mrs. Hatchett,” said Dr. Richards coldly, as a pair of nurses urged her to walk.

They didn’t understand. They couldn’t.

“Perhaps she is mad after all,” said Mrs. Strickland sadly. “She seemed such a sharp little thing.”

How could any of them understand?

“Come on now, Mrs. Hatchett,” a nurse said. “Don’t fight us. We’re here to help you. We know you’re upset. You’ll be all right soon. Just come along.”

It was not until she was almost at her room that Bree realized she felt strange. Not the kind of strange that came with having her soul shredded to ribbons—that remained.

No, this sensation was unfamiliar—limbs growing heavy and weak. Eyes growing dim. Mind growing foggy.

“What did you do?” she whispered. “I feel…”

“I know, lamb,” said the nurse, patting her cheek. “You were distraught, and violent, and you slapped Miss Dugford, didn’t you? That wasn’t kind, but anyone can see you’re suffering. You need rest. The chloral will help you sleep, that’s all, and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“And then we shall have a conversation about standards of behaviour in this hospital.” Dr. Richards’ voice. Drifting from somewhere behind them.

“Are you with it enough to get into your nightgown?” the nurse asked. “Or do you need help?”

“Don’t touch me,” Bree said. She was crying. Was she? She wasn’t certain. She had been so happy. So hopeful. Earlier. Why? Alice. Colette. Music. A plan.

That Wardrew man. Everyone knows. Whore. Trollop. Bloody lunatic.

“Please leave me alone,” she sobbed when the nurse drew closer. “Don’t touch me. Don’t.”

The invisible spectre of Dr. Richards sighed heavily. “Just wait until she’s out,” he said. “Then you can finish up and help calm everyone else down.”

“Please,” Bree said. “Please. Please.” What was she crying for? Pleading for? She wasn’t certain.

She was so tired.

“You’ll be all right, Mrs. Hatchett.”

A lie, Bree knew, but the room faded, and she knew nothing more.

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Taglist (please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!)

✨ @starlit-hopes-and-dreams | @clairelsonao3 | @gala1981 | @pleasestaywithmedarling | @kixngiggles ✨

[anarchywoofwoof]

[Intro] In every American community, you have varying shades of political opinion. One of the shadiest of these is the liberals. An outspoken group on many subjects. Ten degrees to the left of center in good times, ten degrees to the right of center if it affects them personally. So here, then, is a lesson in safe logic.

[Verse 1] I cried when they shot Medgar Evers Tears ran down my spine And I cried when they shot Mr. Kennedy As though I'd lost a father of mine But Malcolm X got what was coming He got what he asked for this time So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal Get it?

[Verse 2] I go to civil rights rallies And I put down the old D.A.R. (D.A.R., that's the Dykes of the American Revolution) I love Harry and Sidney and Sammy I hope every colored boy becomes a star But don't talk about revolution That's going a little bit too far So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal

[Verse 3] I cheered when Humphrey was chosen My faith in the system restored I'm glad that the Commies were thrown out Of the A.F.L. C.I.O. board And I love Puerto Ricans and Negros As long as they don't move next door So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal [Verse 4] Ah, the people of old Mississippi Should all hang their heads in shame Now, I can't understand how their minds work What's the matter don't they watch Les Crane? But if you ask me to bus my children I hope the cops take down your name So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal

[Verse 5] Yes, I read New Republic and Nation I've learned to take every view You know, I've memorized Lerner and Golden I feel like I'm almost a Jew But when it comes to times like Korea There's no one more red, white and blue So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal

[Verse 6] I vote for the Democratic party They want the U.N. to be strong I attend all the Pete Seeger concerts He sure gets me singing those songs And I'll send all the money you ask for But don't ask me to come on along So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal [Verse 7] Sure, once I was young and impulsive I wore every conceivable pin Even went to socialist meetings Learned all the old union hymns Ah, but I've grown older and wiser And that's why I'm turning you in So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal

Lyrics from Genius.com

[wisefoxluminary]

Can we talk about Steve's trauma for a little minute. I'm currently rewatching Stranger Things Season 3 and the way the Russians beat up Steve is beyond heartbreaking. You can feel Steve's fear in that scene, and the way he just begs those Russian guards to stop hurting him, you can see he is on the verge of tears and is trying so hard not to break. He is trying to use humour to bury all that pain and fear inside him, and it really does show when he talks about USS Butterscotch. What saddens me the most about this scene is that this is the first time we have seen Steve genuinely scared. He is scared of losing his life at the hands of the commies. To be tortured endlessly with no escape from the pain. He may have came face to face with monsters from an alternative dimension, but coming face to face with human nature is his worst fear. Especially being tortured over and over by these sadistic bastards. They took pleasure in hurting him, it didn't matter if they got the information they needed or not.

I feel like this would have scarred Steve emotionally and mentally. After Starcourt, He keeps having nightmares about the Russians finding him and torturing him again. I don't know if it was the truth serum drug or what that eased the shock, but I wish Steve's trauma was explored more. I felt like it was a huge missed opportunity they didn't address it in season 4, considering the introduction of Vecna. I really do feel like Steve is trying so hard to stay strong for Nancy, Robin and the kids, but deep down he is hurting. He has trauma that he has learned to suppress and bury inside. His parents are hardly there for him, he can't sleep without thinking about how the Russians tortured him and he has no one to bare his soul to about it, he has no coping mechanism to distract himself. Being involved in this Upside Down mess has taught Steve to become a better person and to value life more. When he talked to Nancy about his six nugget dream, he really meant it. He just wants to get away from this shit. He is tired of reliving his trauma everyday and he just wants to leave everything behind and start a new life. After Eddie's death, Dustin will push Steve away because he is scared of losing another friend and that will make Steve feel even more empty and alone. All I ask to see in season five is for Steve to break down, to finally let all that pain out and heal. He's been through enough. There is always light at the end of the tunnel. If Steve stops running away from his trauma and finally accepts it, he'll become a more healed, happy man.

[cassieuncaged]

WIP Saturday

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton. Thanks, Skelly!

No pressure tags: @emotionalcadaver, @poisonedtruth, @emilynightshade89, @illiana-mystery, @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @voidika, @unholymilf, @roofgeese, @firstaidspray, @captastra, @kyber-infinitygems, @confidentandgood and whoever else would like to share!

Have a snippet from the first chapter of the Grave Bound Redux.

Book One: The Folly of War

              Chapter 1

The razor buzzed with menace as the metal teeth scraped at the back of his neck. Another tuft of thick hair fell to the ground, mirroring the men in the chairs to either side. Elias cringed, eyes closed as the trimming continued.

“Stop wincing, Nancy.” the army man grunted, continuing to shave the shaggy mop until the private was left a jarhead. “Hair’s too fucking long, anyways.”

Tears were held back as it felt like an entire identity was being swallowed by the painful uniformity of the military. He wasn’t an individual anymore but a cog in a brutal machine. It didn’t help that he’d been served divorce papers a day earlier. A punch to the gut in spite of being expected. Elias supposed he hoped that Jeannie would give up the LSD and sleazy Los Angeles parties for him.

Apparently that was incorrect.

Then he had the choice between jail time or joining the fight in Vietnam. He should’ve just done the seven years instead of risking his life for God knew how long. The man to his left looked to be no older than eighteen, stony face still chubby with baby fat. Pink lips quivered as the kid attempted to stay strong. They all knew there was a good chance they were being shipped out to their graves from Fort Ord.

“You’re done, private.” The man exclaimed before pushing him up onto booted feet. Elias felt naked as he left the tent before falling into line with the rest of the men. A mob of army greens, he walked in a trance amongst hopeful soldiers ready to serve.

They shipped out at sunrise, taking a chopper to base camp at Cu Chi.

His gut churned as he wondered how long he’d last. A day? A month? An entire year? That was if he could keep himself alive that long.

Tomorrow they flew out to Vietnam. 25th Infantry.

Manhood felt as though it was delayed until this moment, being thrown into the jaws of a raging war. Even the leader of the free world cared a little about the men that were dying. He’d become another statistic and no one would think a thing about it.

“You excited, Grodin?” Doyle, another private, clapped him on the shoulder. The kid was all but twenty years old and green as summer grass. Scrawny with the bristle of chestnut hair decorating his skull, it became apparent that he was ecstatic to be shipped into the thick of it. Ready to wield a an AK-47 and pick off those commie bastards.

It was surprising how many people actually felt that way.

“Delighted.” He added flatly, pulling a pack of cigarettes from one pocket. One was offered to Doyle who gladly accepted. “Ready to start my tour and get it over with.”

“Aren’t you ready to do your part? Do your duty for Uncle Sam?” The kid rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, unprepared for someone so unimpressed with the reality of war. Afterall, it did feel rather treasonous not to support one’s country.

Elias didn’t care.

“Guess I’m doing it now, private.” A plume of smoke expelled from wide lips as he headed back to the barracks.

[broken-ghost]

Longing

Pairing: Dmitri Antonov x Female Reader

Fandom: Stranger Things

Rating: Mature

Summary: Dmitri watches you watching him.

Warnings: Mentions of sex but no smut. One sided Hopper x Reader

A/N: This is the first time I've written anything in about five years so I don’t know if there’s even an interest lol

дорогой = sweetheart

Dmitri watched you watching him. It had become part of his daily routine. Get up, make coffee, eat breakfast, make small talk with the Americans, and watch you.

You stood in the doorway of the kitchen clutching a blue coffee mug in your hands. Dmitri didn’t need to look in the room to know who was in there. Who your gaze was focused on.

If he could see your eyes he would see the longing in them, deep and powerful, a thirst that had yet to be quenched.

It was a longing he was achingly familiar with, it was in his gaze every time he looked at you.

The moment he first saw you, standing beside Murray as part of the group that went through hell in his mother country to free the gutsy American, Dmitri knew he was in trouble. Falling in love with you over the next couple weeks was inevitable.

With a sigh he turned back to the hall only to see Murray standing behind him with a knowing smirk on his face. “Still haven’t told her huh?”

“No. I’m not him,” Dmitri muttered, walking past his host.

******************************

Dmitri watched the scene unfold in a small dive bar near a cheap motel outside Chicago.

Murray and Dr Owens had already returned to their rooms for the night, exhausted from the long drive from Nevada heading back to Hawkins. At least it had been a successful trip, finding Owens alive and more than willing to help.

Hopper and Joyce disappeared not long after Murray and Owens and Dmitri knew where they were going and what they were doing. He assumed you did as well judging by the round of shots you knocked back watching them leave.

Deciding he couldn’t leave you there alone he nursed a few beers while waiting to escort you safely back to your room.

But now he was watching you practically throw yourself at one of the rednecks playing pool. When the man leaned down to whisper in your ear and his hand landed on your ass, Dmitri had enough.

“Y/N,” he said, walking up and taking your arm. “It’s time to go back.”

The redneck turned to look at Dmitri. “Oh the fucking commie says it’s time to go home dollface,” he sneered.

You turned to face Dmitri. “I was talking to my new friend um…..”

“Georgie,” the man said.

“Yeah, my new friend Georgie.”

Dmitri took in your glassy eyes and the way you swayed on your feet. “Come on Y/N, you are drunk. Let’s just go back to the motel.”

“Where are theys?” you slurred.

“Where are who дорогой?” Dmitri asked gently, guiding you away from the pool table and your new friend Georgie.

“Joyce and Hop,” you said, ending his name on a pop sound.

Dmitri sighed. “I don’t know Y/N.”

You nodded, taking a step forward and promptly falling on your ass. When you didn’t get up Dmitri squatted down on your level and saw the tears on your cheeks. He silently scooped you up and carried you out of the bar.

By the time he made it back to the set of rooms your group had reserved you had fallen asleep. Unable to find your room key, he carried you into his room and placed you on the second bed.

He spent the rest of the night awake in the other bed, wondering if you even noticed him at all.

************************

“Hop, please turn the radio down,” you growled, head against the cool glass of the van’s window.

“What’s that Y/N? I can’t hear you over the radio,” Hopper teased, pointing at his ear.

You flipped him off and he reached over to turn the tape he was playing down.

Your head was pounding from your hangover and your stomach was rolling.

You already felt awkward after waking up in Dmitri’s hotel room. He had been asleep in the other bed until you staggered into his bathroom to throw up the alcohol from the night before. Sometime between first kneeling down in front of the toilet and finally emptying your stomach you realized he was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, holding your hair back.

Humiliated, you took the glass of water he handed you and mumbled a thank you before escaping back to your motel room to cry in the shower.

Glancing across the backseat at him now, you watched him close his eyes and settle back into the seat.

You owed him a thank you for taking care of you last night. You vaguely remembered a foul smelling trucker and falling down in the bar. If Dmitri hadn’t been there to stop you the mistake you woke up to this morning would have been tremendous.

And why? All because you were in love with someone who you knew all along was in love with someone else.

Resting your head against the seat, you settled in to try and sleep away the rest of your hangover.

*************************

Over the next couple weeks things didn’t get any better. Not knowing how to defeat Vecna and save Hawkins, Hopper had put you and Dmitri on research duty while everyone else was out doing something.

You knew it was because Dmitri was in hiding as a Russian fugitive that he was put on desk duty, but you were angry Hop thought you couldn’t be out there fighting when literal kids were.

You were getting restless being stuck in Murray’s bunker-style apartment that had become a base camp of sorts. But at least Dmitri was a great research companion and the two of you worked well together dividing and conquering the research and assisting Owens.

Usually at the end of the day Dmitri would make a dinner you would share before heading to your separate rooms where you read more books and you were sure he was doing the same.

The quicker you found the needed information the faster you could defeat this evil for good.

It was the third Saturday in a row spent in the bunker and you were rubbing your eyes as you tried to read the tiny print on the newspaper copies Robin had dropped off.

When the door slammed open you jumped before stepping out in the hallway just in time to see Hopper pushing Joyce against the wall, his lips on hers.

Choking back a sound, you spun around and headed for your room.

“Y/N?” Dmitri called when you passed him in the hall.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, head down.

“Hey, wait,” he said, touching your arm. “What’s wrong?”

You looked up at him, eyes wet with tears. “What’s wrong with me Dmitri?”

“What?”

“Why doesn’t…” you stopped, realizing what you were about to admit.

Dmitri brought his hand up to cup your cheek. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

He stepped closer, his thumb brushing your lips. “He’s a fool for not seeing it, дорогой If you looked at me like you looked at him…”

You looked up in his eyes as his words trailed off and you saw his desire. Overwhelmed with the need to be touched, you raised up and pressed your lips to his.

Dmitri ran his hands through your hair as he took control of the kiss, backing you into the wall.

*********************************

Dmitri knew what he was getting into when he took you to bed that first night.

He understood why you kissed him and he knew who you were thinking of when you closed your eyes as he made love to you. He knew why you had never called his name when you came undone.

Each time you left his bed he told himself it would be the last time, but every time you came to him he held you again.

He was waiting for something to change.

And then it did.

Just home from checking out a possible gate to the Upside Down, Dmitri watched you head to the shower, walking by Hopper without glancing his way.

Later that night when you knocked on his door he let you in.

Pinning you down to the bed, he was chasing his own release when he felt and heard you find yours. “Fuck, Dmitri…”

The sound of his name falling from your lips caused him to pause, looking down to see you looking up at him, eyes open.

Holding you a little later, he was surprised you didn’t get up and leave like your normally do. He didn’t know what to say so he stayed quiet, stroking your hair.

“Do you regret getting involved with me?” you asked him.

“No,” he answered, accent thick. “I could never regret anything about you.”

“It took me a long time to see what was in front of me,” you said.

“And what is it that you see?”

“A man who makes me smile. A man who is smart and challenges me. A man who holds my hair when I throw up. A man who makes me feel safe and happy,” you whispered.

His arm tightened around you. “Do you mean it?”

“I love you Dmitri. I know this didn’t start off ideally, but I love you and you make me happy.”

“Look at me.” His voice was rough.

You looked up and Dmitri saw what he was looking for in your eyes. Leaning down, he brushed a gentle kiss across your lips. “I love you too.”

[nortism]

live blogging doctor who pt 5

s1 ep8 father’s day

- aww baby rose

- uh oh we’re exploring the consequences of timetravel

- the anti thatcher posters in the background let’s go

- uh oh they’re breaking up

- oh no they’re stuck in 1987, the worst year

- omg the 80s wedding dress

- aww even babier rose

- uh oh turns out ppl aren’t as good as they are in ur head

- what the fuck is that

- “my rose all grown up” waaaaaaa

- aww baby mickey

- help the doctor and baby rose

- rip the doctor

- oh he’s gotta die

- “i can be a proper dad to you now” guys i’m tearing up

- ayyy the doctor

- that was a crazy good episode

s1 ep9 the empty child

- fuck yeah wwii episode

- not loving that kid tbh

- girl this is why u don’t climb up random rope

- CAT

- nooo keep it

- uh oh ghost lady

- don’t pick up the fuckinf phone, istg to god him and rose are dumb and dumber

- yelling at the luftwaffe for interpreting his tea, avg british man 😭😭

- oh we got a problematic bisexual man on our hands

- the problematic bisexual man is also an alien???

- girl get up 😭😭

- ghost girl is a commie icon

- oh fucj it’s the kid

- bro do not let him in!!!

- oh ghost child

- YOOO THIS IS CAPTAIN JACK HARKNESS, i know this guy!!

- rose girl, keep ur clothes omg, u just met this guy

- oh fuck yeah spaceship

- i love nancy

- omg two doctors who???

- NOT MOONLIGHT SERENADE

- rose is so silly 😭😭 GIRL GET UP

- oh gas mask body horror

- THE CUT LIKE ON THE BOY

- OMG THEY’RE ALIVE

- THE BROTHER????

- i knew it was coming but that man’s face turning into a gas mask is the most fucked up thing i’ve ever seen

- ofc he’s a fuckinf conman look at him

- ok that was fucking scary

s1 ep10 the doctor dances

- defeating the monsters with strict parenting

- poor nancy

- oh the drawings of his mum 😭😭

- noooo free my girl nancy

- GET HIS ASS NANCY

- uhhhh haunted typewriter

- “our song” GIRL

- glad to know that by the 51st century we’re all bisexual

- the gas mask thing was not any less horrifying the second time

- rose continues to collect working class girl friends

- nancy’s his mum???

- major character undeath let’s go!!!

- oh rip jack

- oh nvm not rip

- aww their silly little dancing

- ok am i allowed to be rooting for a throuple situation bc i am

- those last two eps were my favourite so far soooo good