#it was supposed to be like 3 paragraphs

[goayda]

The Secret

So what if… in a Steddyhands AU where everything is FINALLY going well between them, Izzy realizes that he is pregnant and he feels... actually sad, because he is sure it’s not going to last because, c’mon, he is too old for this, even if their lives are much easier now. So he doesn’t say anything to anybody because why make them worry about it? The ‘issue’ will surely disappear soon anyway.

But weeks go by and he is just starting to show and Izzy panics because he still thinks it’s not going to go to term, but soon it will be impossible to blame the roundness on too many of Roach’s cakes and he doesn’t want Ed and Stede to get excited about a baby and then see their disappointment and their heartbreak when everything ends too soon.

So Izzy lies and tells them he needs to go to land alone to attend to some personal matters about a long-distant relative and it sounds like bullshit so Stede and Ed keep asking questions and try to convince him to let them go with him, but Izzy doesn’t budge. So he promises everything will be fine and that he will be back ‘soon’ and without telling anybody, he goes to Jackie’s because she is the only one he can trust with this.

And weeks go by and Stede and Ed receive a few letters from Izzy via Karl saying things are going well, not to worry, that he still needs a bit more time on land.

And they do worry, of course, but there isn’t much they can do since they don’t even know where Izzy is. So they just keep waiting.

Then one day Karl brings a letter signed by Jackie simply saying: The baby is coming, get your arses here right now.

It’s very confusing and for a moment they think that maybe Jackie was trying to reach somebody else, but then Buttons says that no, she is probably just talking about Izzy’s baby and... chaos ensues.

So apparently Buttons had been getting updates on Izzy’s pregnancy from Karl, but he had said nothing because, well, it was not his secret to tell and Ed and Stede can understand and respect that, but Stede has to physically restrain Ed for a while to stop him from strangling the man.

Then the crew and the captains throw overboard anything not essential to reach port as fast as possible and they make it there in record time.

And despite Stede’s calming efforts Ed is ready to yell at Iz for hiding this from them, but when they get to Jackie’s, Izzy is in bed, looking exhausted but happy and holding a tiny baby in his arms. And the baby has Ed’s hair and Stede’s eyes, which doesn’t make sense, but who the fuck cares.

So there is no yelling, but there is a lot of happy crying then.

[meownotgood]

thinking about aki who's a bit of a pervert.

you find yourself over at aki's place to drink an awful lot these days. he's been inviting you, and it's not like you have any reason to say no. work has been stressful, you could use the break. it's more fun to drink with him anyways, with just him. aki is kind and thoughtful, he's reserved and he isn't like all the other guys in your department that turn into idiots the moment they've had a drop of alcohol.

no, aki is sweet. gentlemanly, you'd say. innocent, even. he told you one time that he's never had a girlfriend before.

aki's your best friend, the kind of guy someone might bring home to their parents — the only guy you have absolutely no problem getting shitfaced around because you know he'd stop at nothing to take care of you.

and once you've had a bit too much to drink (because you always seem to) aki will do as he always does: insist you stay the night instead of trying to go home. it'd be dangerous for you to try and travel when you're this inebriated. he's looking out for you, that's all.

although, tonight, one thing is different from before. usually, he'd give you his guest room to have all to yourself. but now that denji and power have moved in, aki supposes there's no other option than to have you sleep with him.

he's not going to allow you to sleep on the living room floor, that's just rude. you're a guest. his closest friend. it's getting cold these days, you'd be freezing if you had to do that. besides, you trust aki more than anyone, so you have no problem sleeping in his bed next to him, do you?

of course not.

aki's just being polite, like he always is, and you're none the wiser. he's polite when he offers to toss your clothes in the laundry and give you his to sleep in. he wants you to be comfortable, that's certainly true, but it definitely isn't also because he was hoping for a chance to touch your stockings and your bra. he commits the feeling of the fabric to memory, the way your stockings stretch when he pulls at them — they stretch the same way around your thighs, too. he drags his fingers across the intricate lace of your bra — lace? he didn't think you were the type to like something like that, but it makes sense. it'd look better if it was on you.

he compares the size of his hand to the size of your bra and tries not to forget that either before tossing everything in the wash. maybe he'll get lucky, and you'll forget to grab your clothes before rushing home.

he scoops you up and carries you to bed when you're too exhausted and drunk to move. he's trying not to think anything dirty as he sets you down in the center of his bed and props himself up over you; he's breathing hard, starting to sweat, the sight of you under him is the prettiest thing he's ever seen, but his breath gets caught in his lungs when you wrap your arms around him and pull his body close to yours with a drunken giggle. aki leans his head into your shoulder, and he doesn't attempt to separate the two of you.

yeah, and it's really only out of politeness that aki's offered to have you sleep in his bed. it's not because he grows warm to the ends of his ears at just the thought of someone, of you sleeping beside him. nobody's ever slept with him like this before. he can hear your breathing, he can feel it on his neck. he shifts away from you a little and he can see the bare skin of your collarbones peeking out when his shirt that's way too big for you starts slipping down your figure. god.

he won't sleep tonight, he's already sure of it. but how could he? between this and the way you were acting earlier, how is he supposed to get any sleep?

you're such a sweetheart when you're drunk, more than you are usually, you'll sway left and right and end up clinging onto aki's arm to keep yourself steady. you'll coo his name so sweetly into his ear, you'll thank him for inviting you and mumble something about how much you appreciate him, how good of a friend he is.

you're welcome, aki tells you with a completely level tone, despite the fact his heart is fucking hammering in his chest so hard it hurts because you've really just thanked him, you're happy because of him, you really are. he wants to make you even happier, he wants you to sing his praises more. he wants to hear your soft voice pant his name over and over again.

he's terrible, really. maybe it's because of his lack of intimacy. maybe the frustration of always being alone. maybe it's his fault to begin with for falling so head over heels for you. aki has no idea.

he can't help but feel guilty every time he invites you over, knowing it's because he wants to be close to you and have you all to himself. he hates how he can never seem to stop ogling you, hates how he can't even get a moment of sleep right now because you're hugging him, you're fast asleep with your arms around him and he can't think, he's so hard his poor cock is throbbing.

aki shifts off of you, tearing your arms away from him and curling up at your side. he mutters a quiet I'm sorry when you grumble with displeasure in your sleep, he tugs the blanket around you and lifts your head to tuck his pillow underneath.

turning over, he forces his eyes to close. aki ignores the ache in his gut, he resists the urge to slip his hand down his pants while you're lying right beside him. he breathes in shuddery gasps, says a silent prayer to himself that you'll stay for at least a few more hours tomorrow.

it'll be fine. he'll forget about all of this until next time. when you're gone.

because if you've slept with him, even after you've left, his sheets and his blankets will smell like you. the clothes you wore, too. then, when he's lying in bed at night, all alone, with the shirt you were wearing pressed up to his nose, and maybe the stockings you wore the day before in his fist and around his dick (if you managed to forget them), it'll be so much easier to imagine whatever the hell he wants about you. and you'll have no idea.

[rainbow-femme]

Thinking too much about AFTG again and I know we rag on Neil for being oblivious but I don’t think Andrew understands for most of the story that Neil likes him back

(FYI I haven’t read all the extra content, Nora may have said something about Andrew’s mindset that contradicts this, I don’t care it’s my literary analysis and I control my interpretation and the only canon that exists is what’s in the books. Also I’m Jewish, and the number one rule is anything can be true so long as you can back it up textually)

You’ve got the whole “I’m not your answer and you sure as fuck aren’t mine” line. By this point two things have happened recently: Neil has become outwardly more emotionally and physically vulnerable, and Neil has shown more interest in spending time with Andrew as well as interest in Andrew in general. And Andrew’s response to this seems to be the assumption that Neil is having a crisis he isn’t sharing and seems to have decided that Andrew is the answer to fixing that crisis. To be fair he is having a crisis, Andrew is just an unrelated benefit.

Which makes sense, most of his relationships are based, at least in Andrew’s mind, on him providing a service in exchange for someone’s presence in his life due to his belief that people will not be around him otherwise. So if Neil is looking at him in an open, appreciative, and interested way he seems to assume it’s because Neil, the terrified guy on the run from something, has found himself enjoying the stability Andrew provides and is seeing being near Andrew as a solution to his problems. That maybe Neil has tricked himself into thinking he has feelings for Andrew because he likes having someone take care of him and that’s the reason, and we see from Andrew stopping the kiss when Neil is upset that he does not consider being interested in someone while emotionally vulnerable to be real consent, therefore if Neil is interested in him due to being upset and afraid that is not Neil actually being interested. He also is clearly very agitated by this first kiss, seeming to see himself as a predator who lost control and harmed Neil by taking advantage of him.

He also continues to do nice things for Neil after getting back, despite initially seeming to express frustration, disinterest, and distaste for Neil. Giving him keys to the car, buying him a new charger, giving Neil the shotgun seat. Andrew’s habit of feeling the need to incentivize the people he cares for to stay with him, as well as what appears to naturally be his love language of giving gifts and acts of service as a replacement for verbally sharing emotions. I’m not saying that when he’s doing nice things it’s for personal gain, but I think part of him feels good doing it and part of him believes this is all he has to offer this person. He got back and didn’t say nice things to Neil because he can’t, but he can quietly take care of Neil in a way that says “please stay with me, I want you to be ok” that he verbally can’t. He knows Neil values the ability to leave upsetting situations, that Neil reacted positively the last time Andrew gave him keys, gives Neil a way to charge his phone ie have a lifeline to safety and Andrew when needed, and he’s saying that he still implicitly trusts Neil with things that are important to him. And of course shotgun means “I want you to be the person who is nearest to me”. He similarly starts making a habit of sitting next to Neil when the team is together. Andrew very much is a cat, he’s going to swat at you but also glue himself to your side

There’s also the various moments where Andrew states out loud that he has an attraction and growing emotional attachment to Neil that he has already written off as impossible. He calls Neil a pipe dream, says he knows nothing will come of having an interest in Neil without having made any attempts to see if Neil is interested. If you follow up a confession of interest with a statement that nothing will happen, you can’t be hurt by rejection because you didn’t give the person a chance to reject you.

And it doesn’t seem like it’s because Andrew is purposely avoiding attachments to people. Most of the effort he puts into his life is in his relationships, specifically into giving people reasons to stay near him. He makes the deals with Kevin and Aaron, he could have gone to a school with a more competitive Exy program but went to one where Nicky and Aaron could come and be on the team and in fact made that a requirement, he proves to Kevin that he made the right choice in making Andrew his shield by attacking anyone who hurts Kevin and putting a target on his own back. Before the start of the books we know he went out of his way to connect with Renee and do things for her that meant a lot to her, things that again seem to represent “I am doing her a favor, therefore she will be more likely to stay.” And anything else could be written off as born again Christian charity rather than acknowledge she has love and care for him.

He doesn’t see an attempt at connecting with Neil to be useless because he has no interest in building relationships with people, if there’s anything Andrew is passionate about it’s building and maintaining relationships with people. He sees it as obviously useless because there’s no way Neil would legitimately want to be with Andrew in the same way that Andrew wants him, that it is impossible to consider Neil reciprocating the way he’s feeling because all he wants is Neil himself and he doesn’t think anyone could just want him and think it’s enough.

Neil says he allowed himself to be abused by the Raven’s for two weeks on the chance he could help Andrew, that he wants to care for Andrew even without any personal benefit, and that is when Andrew calls him a pipe dream. Neil has just said that he, the guy who previously was so terrified for his own safety that he put it above all else, would willingly sacrifice his safety for Andrew. When Neil says this Andrew covers his mouth to make him stop talking, which to me suggests that this revelation was an absolute gut punch to him, that what happened to Neil was not only for his sake but accomplished nothing. Andrew’s reaction to Neil saying this is to say that Neil was supposed to be a side effect of the drugs. Meaning what Neil just said made him feel so strongly for Neil that he previously assumed it could not possibly be something he naturally has the capacity to feel.

(And he stills says that he doesn’t think he could ever have from Neil what he wants. So yeah Neil isn’t the only one who can hear a heartfelt confession and come to the conclusion that the other person is completely uninterested)

Also the whole “there is no this” conversation they loop through a few times. Again, Andrew loves building relationships, but they all are ticking clocks in his head, most of them graduation unless he can come up with something to convince them to stay. And then Neil keeps trying to say that there exists a relationship between them that has not been carefully negotiated with a clear end date, which is probably terrifying to a guy who doesn’t think he can trust anyone unless he is providing them something that makes him more useful around than not.

What Neil is proposing is that Andrew has intrinsic value and his presence is all Neil wants, and that probably seems terrifying and untrue. If Neil isn’t getting a tangible benefit that outweighs any perceived inconveniences, and if there is no point where they “re-up” their contract, then at any moment Neil could change his mind and take this thing away from Andrew. He’s had people he loved decide he’s not worth it, he knows it can happen and how terrible it is to experience. He willingly dealt with Drake and harmed himself to keep Cass, and he still lost her because he in and of himself wasn’t enough to be kept and loved because he wasn’t easy enough to love, he was broken, he was damaged. There can’t be a non transactional relationship between them because Andrew can’t see himself being enough and thinks losing it would be too painful to willingly risk

(Nicky, Kevin, and Aaron also seem to have this same view as Neil in their own way of Andrew’s inherent worth to them. Nicky really deserves more recognition for clawing his way to happiness then willingly giving it all up and upending his life and doing things repeatedly that make him unhappy because he cares so much for Aaron and Andrew, aligning himself against possible friends who could make him happy because he will always choose supporting Andrew over himself. And you have Aaron showing that he will fight Andrew tooth and nail if it means they can have a good and lasting relationship, and we see Kevin form genuine love and affection for Andrew outside of their deal, but again Andrew seems to view the relationships at the time as transactional or obligatory on their ends)

Or my favorite, the scene where Andrew makes a comment about Neil’s “neck fetish.” Neil has kissed his neck only about two times by that point, and both times it has elicited what is clearly a pleasurable response from Andrew. But Andrew can’t accept the idea that Neil is doing something with no benefit to himself and only a benefit to Andrew, that he is choosing to take time away from his own immediate pleasure to do something solely for Andrew’s enjoyment of the moment

Neil responds to the comment by saying “You like it, I like that you like it.” Neil is saying that he cares enough about Andrew to have paid attention to what pleases him and wants to take the time when they’re together to make Andrew feel good in a way that Andrew makes him feel good, that he knows Andrew has trauma with physical touch on most of his body but this is a way he can reciprocate that has no negative connotations for Andrew and serves solely to make him feel good. And Andrew does not or cannot let himself see it that way because it’s too vulnerable.

The sex is supposed to be transactional, this is what Andrew has to offer to make Neil stay with him, uninterrupted time of Andrew making him feel good and asking for nothing in return. Neil is breaking the rules, he’s making it reciprocated, if he is making Andrew feel good then Andrew doesn’t have that safety net of being the one with something to offer. So it has to be something that secretly benefits Neil, it has to be that Neil is getting something out of it or Andrew is back to not having anything special that he offers to make Neil stay with him. If it’s just Neil sitting back while Andrew gets him off then Andrew is automatically the most convenient sexual partner for Neil and he won’t look for someone else. If it’s reciprocal, then it stops being a favor Andrew is doing and takes effort on Neil’s end, as well as means the sex includes Andrew knowing what it’s like to be loved and cared for, which means he will feel it’s absence when Neil inevitably leaves because Andrew isn’t convenient enough.

It honestly seems like the turning point is his conversation with Aaron about breaking their deal, Aaron making him choose their deal or Neil. Because it A. Forces Andrew to see that Aaron intends to stay in his life without the deal, meaning that yes one of the most important people in Andrew’s world loves him without a contract. And B. It forces Andrew into a position where he has to take a leap of faith that Neil isn’t going to just walk away, that Neil sees Andrew the way Andrew sees him. And I wonder if Aaron brought up the conversation he had with Neil, that Neil said he didn’t think Andrew would fight for him, and he realized that Neil not only has been thinking about him the way he was thinking about Neil, but that he had this person in his life that he cared about and he was acting in a way that made that person not feel valued and it could probably cause the very thing he wants to avoid by pushing him away.

So you finally get the very end of the last book where Andrew doesn’t deny it when Neil says Andrew likes him, which is for him incredibly vulnerable. He’s shown that he will always protect Neil without their deal of protection, and Neil has shown that he sees everything about Andrew that other people don’t like and he loves Andrew anyway.

Because the story is from Neil’s point of view we see his internal growth as he learns to recognize and accept love and care from others but Andrew has been doing the same, realizing and trusting that Kevin and his family will still be there even if he has nothing tangible to offer, and accepting that someone could genuinely know and understand him, all the things that make him inconvenient, and still want him with no extra incentive because even as broken as he sees himself to be he still has value to others and he can trust Neil in the way he wants Neil to trust him

[originalcontent]

I can't find art of my ship anywhere so I GUESS that means I have to make it myself, here are some doodles.

[reasonsforhope]

Is it true some parts will be under water in 2025? I'm kinda of worried cause someone told me about it bc it was on the news

Eh, not really. Like, technically, but that's a very dramatic way to put it.

What that person told you about was probably this prediction, which says that some roads on some of the Florida Keys might be underwater by 2025.

Does that suck? Yes. But it's also pretty limited in scope.

(And by the way, that's probably not "underwater all the time." There will probably be a number of years of "the roads will be underwater at high tide specifically." I can't currently find a source on this, but that's how tides work, and the Florida Keys article does specifically mention them as a main problem.)

The areas in danger first are pretty universally small, very low islands. Actually, a dozen or so small islands have already gone underwater in the Pacific Ocean, but very importantly, none of those islands were inhabited.

They were mostly small reef islands (that is, the entire island is exposed coral reef detritus) and other uninhabited shoals. Mostly, they were so small scientists had to check old satellite images to even figure out that they disappeared. Literally, we're talking about chunks of land that are just 100 square meters/300 square feet. Again, not great, but still very limited in scope.

As this Live Science article thankfully explains, it's pretty unlikely that any countries at all will disappear before 2100.

Also, just because land is below sea level doesn't mean it will be underwater, and there are very real steps we can take to defend a lot of endangered cities/islands.

For example:

Much of the Netherlands is already below sea level, but the country isn't disappearing, because the Dutch have put a lot of work into building and maintaining coastal defenses.

Multiple surveys (including the one that found the missing islands in Micronesia) also found that not all low-lying islands are vulnerable to erosion and flooding. This is because many islands are protected by mangrove forests, lagoons, or both

Mangrove reforestation in particular is genuinely a super effective anti-flooding strategy that is being deployed pretty widely, and is expected to increase a lot in the coming years. Mangroves are effective at not only preventing short-term flooding, but also mitigating sea-level increases (in part by preventing erosion)

Some islands, esp Pacific Islands, have actually grown during the past couple decades, not shrunk. It really depends on what the island is made up of. Not all land is automatically doomed

You can read more about how sinking countries are fighting back here, and the lessons we can learn from them:

-via Time, June 13, 2019

And finally, and this is good news for reasons I'll explain in a second:

Some of the largest and wealthiest cities in the world are at the top of the danger list. (Note: the predictions at that link are based on some fairly severe warming predictions. They do NOT necessarily reflect what's going to happen or when.)

The cities that are going to be in danger the soonest (still away btw) include New York, London, San Francisco, Tokyo, and Dubai. Lots of very rich people in those cities! Who would really like to not have to move (any of their ten different homes lol)

So, flooding aside, we're going to (by necessity) get a lot better at figuring out the quickest, cheapest, most scalable, and most effective types of coastal defenses real fast.

Are rich countries going to be way more able to get strong coastal defense systems up quickly? Yes. Does that suck? Sure fucking does!! But these solutions don't all require a lot of money or tech to implement, even at a large scale, especially when it's local communities driving the effort.

And, importantly, when rich countries pour a ton of money into figuring this out, that will hugely expand our understanding of what techniques work best, why, and how best to deploy them in different situations. Unlike physical structures, that's valuable knowledge that can be shared very, very widely.

And any technology that comes out of this is going to work like solar panels and other green energy: as more people use it, it will get cheaper and cheaper. Probably really quickly.

So, all told, no one's going to be swallowed up in the next few years. We have time to work on this and a lot of people are already doing so.

Mostly, experts predict that the first wave of large-scale issues will be happening around 2050.

Three decades doesn't sound like enough time, in the face of something like this. But you know what? Responses to climate change are speeding up exponentially, and different types of responses are multiplying and magnifying each other.

We went from inventing flight to landing on the moon in just 66 years.

I wouldn't count us out of the climate change fight yet.

(...I wouldn't count on retiring to Florida either, though)

[thedisablednaturalist]

$100 dollars. An endangered species only got $100 fucking dollars out of the $1.2 billion dollars allocated towards saving endangered species. Why such a low amount? Why aren't people raising money and storming the streets in anger at such an insulting amount?

Because it's a snail. The Virginia fringed mountain snail, Polygyriscus virginianus, to be exact. And it's considered lucky for getting something

Invertebrates are so low on everyone's list that even an article detailing the absurd inequality in spending goes on to focus on plants only gaining 2% after briefly mentioning insects getting so much less, allocating only 0.5% of the budget. Many inverts like a species of stoneflies (lednian stonefly, Lednia tumana) didn't get any funding at all.

67% of the money goes towards TWO species. Pandas? No way (Those aren't American species anyways guys!!)

If you guessed Salmon and steelhead trout, you win a big seafood dinner! (Or would steak be better?)

I'm not saying that they don't deserve the money. But if that much of the budget needs to go towards two species, that means the budget is way too small. The Biden administration last year put forth millions of dollars to aid the long declining EPA and give it more staff in order to update decades old environmental reviews, as well as allocate more money to species that have been neglected, such as endangered species in Hawaii and desert fish in the southwestern U.S. Which is great, but it's not nearly enough.

Article:

[metagalacticx]

"Sometimes… Scott thinks about how soft and crushable and insignificant he is inside compared to everything else."

inspired by: When the Body Forgives by @theoceanismyinkwell

[daikunart]

Put a finger down if u ever tried, as a teen, to keep a diary, only for a parent to find and read it and demand explanation for the random shit u wrote (wasn't even that deep bruh) and u felt so violated that u never wrote anything ever again 😶😶😶😶

[fluentisonus]

every time I'm like "what if I just took a paragraph of this essay to briefly touch on cicero's take on [x topic]. how much could he really have written on it anyways" that is the devil talking

[steelh4ze]

i feel like i should actual post here instead of endlessly reblogging, so here's a fic i've been working on about pre-scrambled brains durge and his first meeting with gortash

The northern districts of the city was the beating, pulsing heart of it all, and more than once had he wished to steal a few patriars from its upper echelons. They were only a little part of the upper crust that made Baldur’s Gate what it was, but a vital part nonetheless, enough so that striking one meant striking at the city. Lay waste to the repulsive, irksome officials that paraded themselves around the High hall, and it would mean to bleed the council dry. Offering the foetid remains of the soul he had taken to his Father above was one of the best ways, Archimedes had thought, to show filial piety to him. A gift from his most beloved son.

It was not only worship that made him dream so, however.

Perhaps it was due to his ill-begotten, half-remembered scraps of childhood or from some other banal reason, but life had made a hatred of those higher class out of him. He had grown up in the slums, scrambling for what little food he could have after the gift of his heritage manifested and the family fostering him was killed. Waste-not, and he had eaten the bodies of his victims until he grew from a rabid child into what the blessed son of Bhaal needed to be. Want-not, so he had become his Father’s mortal hand, Archimedes’ own wishes becoming whatever Bhaal desired.

The cult of Bhaal, and by extension, his temple, had been left sleeping in the ruins that lay beneath the city, his kind left as a mere story to scare children out of disobedience because of Saverok’s failure. It had taken him years to reawaken the shadow of the beast Bhaal’s followers were meant to be, and Archimedes knew intimately that many patriars had thought of the increased disappearances and murders as a normal rise and fall of crime that came with the passing of one of the city’s most influential aristocrats. It was tempting to give in, to squirrel away another one of their group, and make a show out of it— display their squirming, eyeless, feeble body in the middle of the city and let the world know Bhaal had resurfaced once more.

It would be an unwise decision, with how little Bhaalists there were right now, but satisfying. So deeply satisfying. He was young, not stupid. He would live long and conquer, and perish when he was the last soul on Toril.

They would know soon enough as it was. More and more were being drawn into the temple by the allure of becoming one of his Father’s unholy assassins. 

By nature, he was not a man of bureaucracy. He had kept his finger on the pulse of the city, listening in to the inner-and-outer-workings of whatever his Invokers could infiltrate, the shuffling of hands from the guild to the high hall to wherever. But his main purpose was to maim for Bhaal, to carry out his great plan. Not to pay attention to snivelling bureaucrats nor to all the little lordlings that aspired to make a name for themselves on the Sword Coast.

Banites were a different matter entirely.

It started with a letter. The Dead Three were coalescing, word of a conglomeration of Bane spreading around the less savoury circles of society. He himself had found a scouting party deep in the undercity, the emblems of Bane strung across their necks or buried deep in their pockets.

[catastrxblues]

hi so i just finished bridge to terabithia and now i’m unwell and my eyes are red because i’ve been crying before i’d even reached 20 minutes of it for i actually knew what was going to happen and by the time i reached an hour something something i just straight up sobbing screaming into my pillow. and now it’s 12 am and i’m still thinking about them. because god, look at them, how they were, the little world they lived in, wouldn’t you just love that, to run away, to escape, to grasp that childhood naivety and innocence that you lost a long time ago, to feel the sun in your skin and the air in your lungs and to paint fantasies and laugh and play and run hidden away from the world and find an old run down tree house and decided to make it your own little shelter and pin up canvases on the worn wood and paint and let your creativity goes wild and have someone understand you and gets you and do it with you, and wouldn’t you just love to have something so constant, so sincere, so genuine, so pure, so real, that there wasn’t anything else. if i knew i was going to cry this much, if i knew how much space this movie would make in my life, i wouldn’t have started this movie tonight. i would have been in peace on the floor of my room, not realizing how badly i actually want something like this even though i would never unironically admit this to anyone in my life or even myself when i’m outside of the familiar place of my mind, for that matters

[volfoss]

like i genuinely cannot believe thegall that she has quinn saying that oh they loved being servants... really??

[ID: Text reading:

"“I let them go into the front parlor together, and then I went into the kitchen for lunch, where Jasmine was just telling Big Ramona that they were rich. I hated to break up their happiness with my glum looks and I blamed it all on hunger. Besides, Jasmine had always been rich and so was Big Ramona. They just never wanted to leave Blackwood Manor, everybody knew."/end ID]

[ruvviks]

Chapter >> 18 [x] Characters >> Lauren Dimas (oc), Matvey Dobrynin (oc), Mikhail Koshechkin (oc), Rogue Amendiares, Viktor Vektor, Vincent Mayer (oc), Vitali Dobrynin (oc) Total >> 8.0k words Warnings >> Alcohol mention, blood, brainwashing mention, brief transphobia mention, death, descriptions of dying (don't even worry about it), dissociation (sort of), injuries, violence

Vitali was dying.

He could see the sky from where he sat, the ink black void above Night City, turned all hues of blue from advertisement projections and the city lights down below. Could barely hear the alarm blasting through the building anymore, a comfortable ringing filling the space between his ears, low humming wrapping itself around him like a protective blanket as he felt himself slipping away.

Part of him had already known, in a way. Living on borrowed time- the bullet had killed him, and if it hadn’t been for Arasaka forcing a heartbeat back into him only minutes later he would never have opened his eyes anymore at all. Had happened nearly a year ago by then; yet somehow Vitali could remember it as if it had only been a few hours at most, as if all that had taken place since had been nothing but a fever dream and his brain keeping him trapped in a delusion in the final moments before his lungs would give out.

He struggled to keep his eyes open, the familiar voice nearby urging him to stay awake- bitter taste of blood in his mouth and his side burning up, pain gnawing its way through flesh and muscle and bone until it was so constant he could barely even feel it anymore.

‘The sky looks…different, here.’

Vincent chuckled and dropped his head on Vitali’s shoulder who immediately scoffed in return, surprised by his boyfriend’s reaction, and quickly took another sip from his beer.

‘You are- such a fuckin’ city boy,’ Vincent said, looking up and pressing a kiss on Vitali’s cheek. ‘No offense, ‘course.’

‘None taken.’

Neither of them spoke as they both looked up again, eyes trailing over the stars shimmering above the camp of the Aldecaldos stationed a few miles outside of Tucson. Vincent was right- Vitali had never left Night City far enough to be able to see the night sky in all its glory, and he had never known there was so much up there to see.

Oh, how Vitali longed to see the stars one last time.

At least the end was more gentle for him, now. No one hovering over him, hurting him, choking him out; no one crying beside him, failing to save him- tears spilled, wasted, over Vitali’s own shortcomings, his alone and no one else's.

‘We should come back here, sometime,’ Vincent quietly said, reaching out to take Vitali’s hand in his own and he gave it a little squeeze. ‘After- you know. We finish up business in Night City. Take a break for a while.’

‘That sounds lovely,’ Vitali replied and smiled at him; a smile that widened when Vincent smiled back and gently bumped their foreheads together, eyes fluttering shut as he breathed in deep, his lips brushing past Vitali’s skin.

He had not even gotten the chance to say goodbye.

A tear rolled down Vitali’s cheek, eyelids heavy as he felt himself sinking; no current pulling him down this time but his arms and legs were no longer strong enough to keep his head above the water, and he sucked in a final, shaky breath before the cold river swallowed him whole.

He knew what dying felt like.

Vitali had very limited childhood memories.

Early ones, at least; shrouded in a strange sense of alienation, a name that did not belong to him and a body turning into something he did not want it to be. Siblings, who got a better treatment than he had ever received; a mother who did not love him, who thought her oldest daughter was merely a doll for her to play with, to dress up and order around until she would grow tired and throw him out; and a father, who-

Who-

Well, Vitali was not sure anymore.

‘You’re bleeding, мое солнышко. What happened?’

Vitali refused to look his father in the eyes- not out of shame, but out of pure anger- still shaking on his legs as he stomped through the living room and dropped himself on the couch. He was a little out of breath, still; had run all the way upstairs rather than use the elevator in hopes to get rid of the adrenaline running through his system, but it had not helped him in the slightest.

‘Stupid fucking shit kids,’ he simply answered Matvey, who had put his work down and walked over to him to join him, sitting down in the armchair on his left.

‘Oy- Language.’

‘What? I’m right.’

‘What did they do?’

‘Called me names. Said I dress ugly.’

‘And then they punched you on the nose?’

Vitali huffed and looked away, crossing his arms in front of his chest and he pouted as he stared out of the window, eyes slowly trailing over the ocean next to the pier of Wellsprings.

Alright, perhaps he had landed the first punch this time- but could you blame him? All the little fuckers ever did was harass anyone younger and shorter than them, and Vitali with his ten years of age was no exception to that.

One too many times and he had simply snapped.

Matvey reached out and gently took Vitali’s jaw, tilting his head back to get a better look at his face; and Vitali merely stared back, counting the few freckles covering his father’s forehead and cheekbones as his heartbeat finally settled down.

‘It hurts,’ he mumbled, slapping his father’s hand away.

‘It looks broken,’ he replied.

‘Next time I see them I’m pushing them off pier. All of them.’

‘Hm. Good luck explaining that to NCPD. Davay- let’s clean that blood off your face before your mother gets home.’

‘HEY-! Fucking watch it!’

Vitali clenched his jaw and flipped the other driver off as he quickly maneuvered around the car, switching lanes and accelerating while ignoring the loud honking from behind. His other hand was tightly wrapped around the steering wheel, white-knuckled to stop it from shaking too much.

Not as if it helped.

The city lights flashing by were blinding- street light after street light and billboards and neon signs and Vitali struggled to keep his eyes open, the almost hypnotic pattern lulling him to sleep despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He accelerated more, nearly subconsciously so, heart rapidly beating in his chest and breathing high up in his throat- a feeling he was all too familiar with, a near constant state of being in combat situations or right before an important meeting with some rich and influential client.

This was different, though.

‘Turn right here, getting close.’

Mikhail spoke softly, just loud enough for Vitali to hear, his usually calming voice only slightly soothing his nerves this time. He was sat shotgun- Eddie on the backseat with Rogue, Cato and Vincent with Panam in the car following suit- leg nervously bouncing up and down and hands clasped around his rifle to keep his tics at bay.

‘I understand. Listen, I- Yes, I understand.’

Rogue’s voice was starting to sound increasingly more annoyed with every interruption from the fixer on the other end of the line. Her gaze met Vitali’s in the rearview mirror; and she made a gun with her free hand and pretended to shoot herself in the head, rolling her eyes while moving her phone a little bit further away from her ear when the fixer raised their voice at her.

‘I get your frustration and I get that the Council is starting to lose their patience, but just give us this last fucking night, goddamnit!’ she replied, every last ounce of friendliness she’d previously feigned entirely gone now. ‘Vitali is here with me, we’re on our way to the location- gonna deal with it once and for all. One night, please.’

Once and for all.

The reality of the situation they had found themselves in had yet to kick in for Vitali, his brain lagging behind and struggling to catch up. But it was better that way; he did not want to, did not need to think about what that statement meant- despite already being fully aware of it.

Going to drink myself into a coma after this.

Charter Hill, Westbrook.

Vitali clenched his jaw as he entered the subdistrict and passed its university grounds, memories flooding back into his brain- memories of attempting to break in, memories of nearly getting shot by security while trying to reach Mikhail in their years apart. Perhaps that’s why his father had chosen to seek shelter there of all places; perhaps he knew Vitali still avoided it like the plague, heart suffocating under the weight of all the sleepless nights he had spent there looking for his friend.

Hiding in plain sight. Smart.

High risk, high reward.

Vitali had an intimate relationship with the concept, from his years in college with the fine line between his personal and his school life, to the operations he led at Arasaka Counterintel, to the gigs he took from clients and divided under his mercenaries.

His own office in Wellsprings handled a similar strategic approach. Of course Arasaka knew of him- of course they knew where he could be found, and of course they could strike at any given moment in time without any warning and of course they could level the whole building with the ground with a single press of a button if they so desired.

But with his front and enough finesse practiced by both clientele and employees- and most importantly, Vitali’s intimate knowledge of the APEX program- even Arasaka stood powerless in the situation, knowing there was nothing they could do without raising suspicion, without drawing attention to themselves among other megacorporations, especially after the fiasco with Grant Armitage.

As long as Matvey’s mercs had behaved, no one would have expected their hideout to be in the midst of busy Charter Hill.

Not even Vitali.

‘Fucking imbecile.’

Rogue’s phone call had finally ended and she exhaled sharply, exchanging another look with Vitali when he glanced in her direction and she shook her head at him.

‘They want you dead,’ she plainly said. ‘Think everything will solve itself when you’re six feet under.’

‘Are you going to kill me?’ Vitali calmly asked in return.

‘Gimme a good reason not to.’

‘I’m driving.’

‘Eh, that works.’

As stupid as the Council was acting, Vitali understood; grasping at straws, similar to him, except focusing on the one thing he had thus far been trying so desperately to avoid. As if it would matter- as if it would make any fucking difference- the insignificance of a single man in Night City had become overly apparent to him in the past few months and if anything, his death would probably cause more problems than it would solve.

Another right turn and Vitali slowed the car, steering to the side of the road and coming to a stop behind a traffic jam, cars long abandoned for obvious reasons- a road block, heavily armored trucks and SUVs surrounding the main entrance of the building Vitali needed to be at and mercs patrolling the streets.

‘Let’s go,’ he said, slowly getting out of the car as his eyes trailed the entire building. It stood detached from surrounding facilities, enough space between to prevent any collateral damage; if anything, an explosion would perhaps cause some of the windows to rattle, but Vitali doubted it’d get worse than that.

He glanced behind him and gave Panam, Cato and Vincent a nod, all three of them readying themselves as they joined the rest- and a hushed but urgent ‘there you are!’ drew his attention into the other direction, a surge of adrenaline nearly causing him to reach for his weapon before he realized it was merely Huxley jogging over to them.

The group followed her into an alley just outside of view of the roadblock up ahead. An already crowded place- Vitali counted six other mercs, five whose faces he only semi-recognized- and Viktor of all people, dressed in similar combat gear as everyone else.

The defeated, somewhat exasperated look in Vitali’s eyes merely made the ripperdoc smile.

‘What’s the plan?’ one of the mercs asked, and right at the same time Rogue placed three bags with explosives on the dumpster beside the group.

‘Some sort of fucked up déjà vu cycle I seem to be stuck in,’ she said, gesturing at Vincent and Vitali- but her gaze lingered on him specifically. ‘Thought our good friend the rockerboy used to be stuck in your boyfriend’s head, not yours.’

‘What can I say?’ he simply replied. ‘Suppose the parasite infected me.’

The plan was straightforward, essentially the same as the last two times- get inside, plant the explosives, activate them, and then get out of there before the place would blow. They didn’t have blueprints to work with, nor did they know where any of the supplies were stashed exactly; but Vitali did not worry about it too much, knowing all would be lost either way once fire would break out following detonation.

All easy enough.

That part of it was, at least.

‘Small teams,’ he said, ‘three or four people max. Rogue, V- you’re with me. These are all rigged to activate at once from a single explosive so planting them is enough- just get out of there fast, once they’re activated we have about ten minutes to leave and there is no way to stop timer from going.’

‘Can’t Lauren control ‘em?’ Cato asked.

‘Unfortunately not. Older models- specifically made for field use, keep runners at bay.’

‘Balls.’

‘We’ll be fine.’

Vitali stood back as the- for now harmless- explosives were split between everyone present, eyes slowly trailing over faces and mostly steady hands gathering supplies and reloading weapons. He wandered around the group- paused to place his hand on Vincent’s arm and give it a gentle, reassuring squeeze- and closed the distance between himself and Viktor, who conveniently turned his head when Vitali tried to catch his gaze.

‘What are you doing here?’ he quietly asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. ‘This is no job for you, Vitya. Please just go back to office.’

‘And leave Mikhail as the only available field medic here? Didn’t think so.’ Viktor paused, inhaling deeply before placing his hand on Vitali’s back. ‘Wasn’t planning on letting you do this all by yourself, kid.’

Vitali wasn’t alone there. But he understood what Viktor meant.

‘Are you sure about this?’

Vitali scoffed and took a few steps back, accidentally bumping into some medical equipment behind him in the small interior of Viktor’s shop. He straightened his back again- but swayed on his feet, the alcohol in his system not mixing too well with his medication, and he couldn’t keep his eyes focused on the other man in the room.

‘There is nothing else left for me out there,’ he answered in Russian, widely smiling and spreading his arms. ‘You thought I was studying to end up as someone’s secretary? Become some- some random exec for a starter company in Watson? Hell, a fucking politician?’

‘Arasaka isn’t going to solve anything for you, Vito,’ Viktor interrupted him, slightly raising his voice. ‘What are you hoping to find? Mikhail? Your parents?’

He tightly clenched his jaw and closed his eyes when Viktor moved his hand to his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, the gesture somehow enough to make his heartbeat settle down again.

‘Maybe, yes.’

A delayed answer, the two words violently cutting through the heavy silence lingering between them. Vitali dropped his arms and scoffed again- though it sounded more like a sob- and turned on his heels to walk away, nearly falling over the same medical equipment a second time that night.

Curious how that worked. Being so trapped inside one’s own head that it would feel like loneliness even when surrounded by people, swallowed by the Night City crowds. Vitali was intimately familiar with it- and even in that overcrowded alley he could feel it pressing down on his chest, choking the oxygen out of his lungs.

At least Viktor is still here.

Vitali could not remember much from the last time they blew up a building.

To be fair, it had been less about the explosives that time, and more about getting Vincent’s cure- and Vitali had only been barely present for it, mind still a little hazy from the remnants of Arasaka’s brainwashing attempt while he’d simultaneously had to run around and try not to get himself- or others- killed.

What he did remember, however, was the adrenaline; the pressure and the gravity of the situation pressing down heavily on his shoulders and his chest, his heart nearly beating itself free from within his ribcage, and the slight tremble of his hands while he had fought his way back into the secret laboratories where they had kept him in their captivity, mere days earlier.

Oh, how history loved to repeat itself.

The same pressure weighing down on him, the same tension in his spine- the same clammy feeling on the palms of his hands and the same shallow breathing as he left the safety of the alley with the rest of the group and they split up to move around the building in different directions, to try and cover as much ground as possible.

‘What’s the plan, jefe?’ Lauren asked, her voice a bit crackled through Vitali’s earpiece as a result of the static produced by what he could only assume was attempted enemy netrunner interference.

‘Rogue, V and I- we’re taking the lower floors,’ he answered, staying low to the ground as he moved around some vehicles. ‘Hold out there while everyone else moves up to plant explosives. I can see at least nine, ten- wait, thirteen hostile mercs outside currently. Can you take them down?’

‘I can try. Stay still.’

A cold shiver ran down Vitali’s spine when Lauren took over his vision and he shakily exhaled, clenching his fists in an attempt to calm down. It’s just Lauren, no one else- kept repeating it over and over in his head as he straightened his back and peered over the car he was sat behind again to give her a clear visual on the entrance of the building.

The sudden zoom of his Kiroshis caused his eyes to water and he swallowed heavily, nausea bubbling up in his stomach as a sudden rush of panic washed over him- panic that vanished almost instantly the second he noticed the enemy mercs dropping to the floor one by one, Lauren’s enhanced quickhack rapidly spreading until the entrance was clear and Vitali could finally stop digging his nails in the palms of his hands.

It’s just Lauren, no one else.

‘Sick,’ Vincent said from beside him, very much unaware of the uneasy feeling nested deep within Vitali’s stomach and he glanced at Vitali with a dangerous shimmer in his eyes.

‘Let’s move in.’

The entrance hall was a large, open space, similar to Vitali's own office but significantly less inviting; if anything it reminded him more of the entrance back at Arasaka, front desk blocking most of the path to the back of the building where two wide stairs led up then curved around against the back wall, meeting each other in the middle.

The plain white walls and asymmetric tiles on the floor had a medical feel to them, clearly a remnant of whatever the place used to be before Matvey and his mercenaries had moved in- but with the blood pooling at Vitali's feet and splattered across walls and ceiling and corpses scattered about it felt more like a slaughterhouse than anything else.

His stomach turned as he entered after Rogue and Vincent, several mercs inside instantly directing their attention to them- but they moved quickly, using the front desk as cover as gunfire started and the deafening noise echoed through the building and bounced around between Vitali's ears, the ringing putting a near painful pressure on his eardrums.

He steadied himself on the counter, relaxing his muscles before pulling the trigger and firing a couple of shots in the direction of their attackers. Just gotta keep them busy- everyone else had by then surely already entered through the back entrance or the fire escape and surely they were already nearly done with planting all the explosives they carried with them.

He just wanted to get it over with.

They locked him up.

The thought creeped into his head without warning.

Matvey was still somewhere inside, trapped- and Vitali's aim was starting to get worse with every passing second, his heart nearly beating out of his chest from stress. A shaky exhale left his body and he pulled back, wincing when a bullet bounced off the counter right where he'd just been, and he made direct eye contact with Vincent-

And suddenly they were kissing, Vincent's hands tightly holding his face, teeth clacking together from the force with which he had leaned in and Vitali gasped for air in his mouth, stealing the oxygen from his lungs.

'Stay focused, alright?' Vincent said, his voice only barely audible over the noise surrounding the two of them but Vitali could hear him clear as day, as if they were alone, as if they were completely elsewhere.

'It's almost over.'

And Vincent was gone again, moving around the counter on Vitali's other side to close in on their enemies. Vitali exhaled sharply and moved into the other direction instead- moved around Rogue, gave her a quick nod- trailed along the side of the room, using the large planters and benches as partial cover while taking more shots at the mercenaries.

'Lauren, security details!' he said, reloading his gun; he was on his last twelve bullets, and had forgotten to bring any spare.

'Their runner's been isolated, got them in a corner,' Lauren replied. 'Security protocols shut down- automated turret system entirely offline, seems like they can't get access to the codes.'

'Any automated doors?'

'Oh, yeah, most of 'em.'

'Can you open them for me?'

'Sure thing, jefe.'

One thing less to worry about.

Of course Vitali didn't know if he was even still alive. There was no way for him to find out- had no idea where his father was being held, and wasn't about to abandon Rogue and Vincent when they had more important things to worry about.

But he could not let it go.

And of course his body betrayed him; vision going blurry to the point he had to lower himself to the floor behind a planter and rub his eyes, but that only seemed to make it worse. Could feel himself slipping again, just like back in that Arasaka facility- time and time again, each and every direct reminder of the megacorporation causing his body to lock up and revert back to autopilot, to rely on the carefully programmed killer instinct planted inside his head.

'Please, not now,' he pleaded to no one in particular, voice a little shaky as his eyes tried to find something- anything- to focus on. He could feel his heartbeat in his temples, behind his eyes; could feel himself losing control of the muscles in his arms, in his legs-

'Please, not now.'

Vitali's voice was absent, distant. Even to himself; had not meant it that way, but it had happened almost automatically so, as if he was too tired to make an effort to make himself sound nice.

'I know you're busy,' Vincent quietly replied, shuffling a little closer to the couch. 'I just- I'm worried about you. You've been doin' nothing other than this paperwork for several days now. And it's getting really late.'

He did not even need to glance at the clock to know it was far past midnight.

Vincent sat down next to him and gently brushed a strand of hair out of his face, finally managing to get Vitali to put down his work and slowly take off his reading glasses. He turned to look at his boyfriend; who smiled at him in return and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek, arms sneaking their way around Vitali's waist to pull him a little closer.

Vitali opened his eyes and breathed in, shaking hand finding his left forearm- and without hesitation he pressed down his fingers, hard, a sharp and searing pain rushing through his nerves and he screamed, clarity once more washing over him until he could finally feel his legs again.

Focus, V. Focus.

He reached for his gun again and turned around- fired once, fired twice, three times and he was out- noticed someone running in his direction and hurled the empty gun directly at their head before whipping out a knife and pulling up the sleeve of his right arm.

A split second of hesitation-

Before he deployed his mantis blade, the only one he had left, and he jumped over the planter to close the distance between himself and another mercenary and slit their throat with both the blade as well as his knife at once.

A risky move, but Vitali did not care.

High risk, high reward- the adrenaline surging through his veins was enough to keep him going, the energy enough to keep his head on his shoulders and not lose his cool. Completely in control of each and every of his movements, using his enemies as cover as he rapidly worked his way through them, staining his blades and clothes with blood.

'Most explosives are in place, Vitali,' Lauren said, right when he dragged his mantis blade out of the chest of one of the last mercs in the entrance hall. 'Just the ones you're carrying. Whenever you're ready.'

'Time to move!' he yelled, acknowledging Lauren's comment simply by shifting his focus back to Vincent and Rogue. The latter held up the bag with explosives she had taken inside; and then vanished into a side hallway on the left of the building, and Vincent and Vitali followed suit.

But the second Vitali entered the hallway, he knew something was wrong.

'It's nothing I can't handle, Vik.' Vitali's voice was quiet, a mere mumble, as if he knew it was of no use to argue with the man. 'I've had it for all my life, now.'

'That doesn't mean it can't get worse.' Viktor paused and put some pressure on the side of Vitali's leg, right next to a muscle- and it instantly cramped up, causing a pained involuntary whimper to leave Vitali's lips and he kicked his leg to shake Viktor's hand away.

It was so easy to push himself too far. So tempting even; Vitali knew he could handle it and if he wanted to get results, he sometimes simply needed to make the effort whether he liked it or not.

It's exactly how his leg had gotten worse over the years, just like Viktor had warned him.

And it's exactly how he was starting to lose control again the second they were out of the entrance hall, his brain suddenly catching up with him to the point he could barely walk straight and his head felt like it was going to explode.

'Honey, are you alright?'

Vincent's voice sounded miles away, as if there were at least four thick walls standing between them despite the fact he was right there. Vitali tried looking up at him but his eyes found no one, as if he was suddenly all by himself; but with a blink of his eyes Vincent was right there again, holding his face, hands ever so careful and gentle and Vitali closed his eyes, wishing they could stay like that forever-

'I suppose I'm scared.'

'Scared? You? Please.'

A scoff left Mikhail's lips and he gave Vitali a playful nudge before taking another sip of his beer. Vitali mocked the scoff and snatched the bottle out of his friend's hands, downing the rest of it in a single go.

'You'll be fine, V,' Mikhail simply continued. 'Being away from your parents will do you good, and- I mean, they won't go anywhere. Give it a week or two, then reach out again. And you will always have me as well, you know that.'

'In another district,' Vitali mumbled in response. 'Where I can't reach you.'

'Once I'm settled in I'll give you call. You can come visit. We have plenty of time between classes.'

Vitali opened his eyes, and he was alone.

Again.

A sharp exhale left his chest as he returned to reality, body bouncing back to catch him but he hadn't even been falling in the first place.

Where am I?

He frantically looked around, back finding the wall behind him- it was sticky and a quiet whimper left his lips as he moved away as quick as he had dropped himself against it, jaw clenching tightly upon noticing the large amount of blood splattered onto the faded green and white wallpaper of the storage room he found himself in.

His eyes trailed down the wall to the floor- two corpses, mercs, dressed in heavy armor similar to that of Arasaka guards, and beside them stood the bag they had carried the explosives in, only one of the packages still inside, waiting to be installed.

Vitali blinked, hearing static on the line through his earpiece; though he was unsure if it was merely regular interference or an actual problem he should be worried about. The familiar thrumming in his head was still there, endlessly putting pressure on his skull- as if it could snap at any given moment, as if he could fall back into the darkness of his own mind with a single wrong move.

Not the time to feel sorry for yourself.

Far from it, even.

Vitali bent forward and grabbed the final explosive from the bag, quickly unwrapping the small device from its protective wraps and he placed it on one of the empty shelves of the storage room, turning the centerpiece to click it in place and snap it to the metal.

'Last explosive installed, ready for activation,' he absently said, unsure if anyone could even hear him. Exhaustion was washing over him now; body pushed far over its limits once more and he rubbed his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up again, knowing if he would pass out now it would be over for him.

He turned back around, straightening his back and getting ready to leave-

No.

Not now.

A figure stood in the door opening, wearing a suit; no jacket, sleeves of his shirt rolled up and gun in his hand, and Vitali unwillingly took a small step back when his gaze met that of his father.

Now or never.

Something was different.

Something had been different for a while, now.

And as much as it hurt him he charged forward without hesitation, ramming Matvey against the wall of the hallway and reaching for his gun to try and get a hold of it- but Matvey was fast and smashed the butt of the gun down onto Vitali's elbow, making him cry out in pain and loose his footing.

He was kicked back, the force of it startling him but not enough to knock him off his feet and he regained his balance, balling his fists and readying them in front of his face. Matvey scoffed in return, corner of his mouth slightly pulling up- then dropped his gun and in that same movement threw a punch aimed at Vitali's side, which Vitali blocked with the inside of his forearm and countered with a solid punch straight in Matvey's stomach.

He grabbed the man's shoulder, digging his nails into his shirt and flesh and baring his gritted teeth as he kicked his knee up with all the strength left in him- once, twice, three times as Matvey coughed and his hands clawed at Vitali's clothes to try and get a hold of him.

This is it.

Vitali's heart was racing wildly in his chest and he saw nothing but red- though not from anger, but out of fear, shallow breathing making him light-headed and causing him to lose control of the muscles in his legs. He pushed Matvey back, balled his fist- swung at him and hit his cheek, knuckles colliding with bone and only partially healed scabbed wounds tearing open, leaving his own blood on his father's face.

You can just leave.

He could.

He could just walk away now, no one had to know- no one had to know he couldn't do it, no one had to know he’d even seen Matvey there. It would be so simple; so fucking simple, yet there he was, bending over to grab his father's gun from the floor to then raise it and point it at his head, steadying himself with his other hand.

'Vitali,' Matvey said, slowly raising both his hands in defense as he struggled to catch his breath.

'Shut up,' Vitali sneered back. 'Just- shut up.'

Oh, how his voice betrayed him.

The slight tremble as he spoke, the sob mixed with the words he tried oh so desperately to spit out as violently as he could. No amount of anger, no amount of hatred could mask how scared he was-

And the amount of anger inside him was not even close to being enough to be able to pull the fucking trigger.

A door opened behind Matvey- the stairway, several mercs coming out and Vitali readjusted his aim and fired at them, walking backwards to create more distance between himself and everyone else in the hallway.

But suddenly he was no longer on his feet, tackled into one of the rooms on his side onto the floor by yet another merc, appearing out of nowhere from the side when he had least expected it and the gun was no longer in his hand, skidding over the floor entirely out of reach.

Vitali grunted and swung his arm blindly, hitting the merc's head and effectively pushing them off himself. He grabbed their hair and held them in position as he turned himself around- readying himself and pushing them into the ground to smash their head repeatedly against the floor until their cries of pain faltered and their attempts to escape from his grip stopped.

He jumped back on his feet, well aware of the danger closing in; turned, and froze, the merc in the doorway aiming their gun at him-

But before they could shoot, Matvey grabbed their arm and pulled it down, shoving them into the side of the doorway as he pushed himself a way inside and smashed their head against the frame before letting them drop to the floor.

Two more mercenaries entered and Vitali charged forward, using himself as a battering ram to separate the two to get one cornered in the room and push the other toward Matvey. He deployed his mantis blade and slashed the merc across the chest, once, twice-

And then heard a struggle behind him, jaw clenching tightly as he quickly turned around to assess the situation, breath caught in his throat as he feared for the worst-

Matvey was fine. Snapped the merc’s neck like it was nothing, and the fight was over.

But Vitali hadn't-

BANG!

He swiftly turned back around, mantis blade moving up- slashing the merc’s throat as quick as he could, and he retracted the blade in the same movement, sharp and short exhale leaving his body together with the sudden adrenaline that had arisen the second he had realized what he had done.

But something felt wrong.

Very, very wrong.

And Vitali fell to the ground.

He was light-headed again; and confused, too, shaking hand reaching for his side as a tingling sensation rapidly spread through his body. Cold fingertips found his shirt- it was soaked, like on his first day at Counterintelligence when one of his colleagues ran into him and accidentally spilled their poor excuse of a coffee all over his suit.

He had never been able to wash the stain out.

Which is why Vitali had mostly worn black button-ups under his suit jacket ever since, with the exception here and there- which is why at first glance it looked like someone had simply just spilled their drink on him again and he wasn’t bleeding heavily from a deep gunshot wound a little bit below his ribcage.

The red liquid on his hand would taste nothing like a lukewarm latte macchiato.

The thought caused Vitali’s lips to curl up in a smile as he closed his eyes and rested his head against the cold wall behind him. The initial confusion had washed away and pain had taken its place, burning and eating its way through his body and locking up his muscles, rendering him unable to get up.

Fuck, I’m tired.

‘You’re bleeding, мое солнышко. What happened?’

Vitali’s eyes fluttered open and he saw his father, standing in the doorway- on the other end of the dark hallway, slowly walking closer, reaching out to pluck a cigarette end out of Vitali’s hair- gun once more in his hand, eyes fixed solidly on the dark, wet stain in Vitali’s shirt right below his armor.

‘Stupid fucking shit kids,’ Vitali simply mumbled in return.

Though he was not sure if his father had even said anything to begin with.

‘Explosives locked and loaded. Ten minutes until detonation- everyone get the fuck out of here while you still can.’

A soft sigh left Vitali’s lips, Rogue’s voice barely audible to him through his earpiece though he did not need to hear her to know what she was talking about. They succeeded; the explosives would rid the place of all resources and would leave the mercs defenseless and they’d have nothing left to continue their onslaught with.

Though with Vitali bleeding out on the cold, laminated floor right in the lion’s den- exactly what they had wanted from the beginning- he was starting to wonder if everything could have been prevented had someone just fatally shot him a little earlier.

He grunted and pushed himself up on his elbows a little more, using what little strength he had left in his legs to shove himself further up against the wall. He opened his mouth to speak- had no idea what even to say, but felt like he had to say something- perhaps to get someone to look for him, even though that was the last thing he wanted.

Enough people had died and gotten injured because of him.

And as much as he tried, not a single sound left his lips, words caught in his throat and only blood dripping down his lips. He closed his eyes again and dropped his head back against the wall, exhaustion washing over him; and it felt like a relief, for some reason, feeling himself slowly drift off into that dark void that had become all too familiar to him in the past year.

Sudden pressure on his wound caused Vitali to cry out- mostly in surprise, less so in pain- and his eyes shot open again, back lifting slightly from the wall as he reached for the hands that attempted to stop the bleeding-

‘Don’t struggle. Save your energy.’

What?

One chance to set things right.

A little late, in the bigger picture of things; Matvey knew he’d had plenty of opportunities to give up, to just walk away for good. He was no longer sure why he hadn’t- did not know what he’d been trying to achieve, what he’d been trying to prove, but it was far too late for that now.

‘What are you doing?’ Vitali quietly asked, his voice barely audible above the alarm that had started blasting through the building only a minute ago. His bloodied hands tried to get a grip on Matvey’s wrists, but he kept slipping, and a choked sob left his throat when Matvey lifted one hand to take Vitali’s earpiece out and put it in his own ear instead.

‘Does anyone have eyes on Vitali?’

‘Vito, respond-! T-minus eight minutes until detonation, I can’t control them from here!’

‘Vitali, are you still inside?’

Matvey slowly lowered his hand, time seemingly slowing down around him as his eyes found Vitali’s- one of them a little bloodshot, both a little hazy from tears and pain, each and every blink lasting longer than the one before.

‘Second floor,’ he finally spoke, reaching up to gently cup his son’s cheek with his hand and leaning forward to kiss his forehead before moving his hand back to the wound.

‘Third door from the stairs. He’s bleeding out. Hurry.’

Why?

Vitali could not force the question out of his mouth, tears rolling down his cheeks as his gaze wandered off to the window next to him. He could see the sky from where he sat, the ink black void above Night City, turned all hues of blue from advertisement projections and the city lights down below. Could barely hear the alarm blasting through the building anymore, a comfortable ringing filling the space between his ears, low humming wrapping itself around him like a protective blanket as he felt himself slipping away.

‘You got what you wanted, no?’ he softly said, turning his head back to look at his father, using the last bit of strength in his body to lift his head from the wall.

‘I was wrong,’ Matvey simply answered, unable to look his son in the eyes as he glanced at the closed door of the room, some gunfire nearby causing the hairs on Vitali’s arms to stand up straight.

‘Wrong.’

Mockery dripped from Vitali’s voice and he scoffed- and coughed, blood spraying out of his mouth as he struggled to find a moment to breathe, spots dancing in front of his eyes.

It all felt so stupid now. The grand finale, everything had led up to this- but his father had been wrong, and none of it had mattered one single fucking bit and now Vitali was bleeding out and dying in a building set to explode in less than seven- six- minutes.

‘Wrong about what?’ he spat, letting his head collide with the wall with a bit more force than he had meant for.

And Matvey hesitated, visibly thinking as his gaze finally met Vitali’s again; cold, gray eyes staring right back at him, almost as if he was looking in a mirror, and Vitali finally realized- and Matvey could not help but notice- just how much he had started to look like his father over the years.

‘All of it.’

In a way, Vitali understood.

From the moment it had first been brought up, Vitali had known he would not be able to kill his father if it had to come down to it. A weakness, and he knew that; the one family member who had always complicated everything for him, the only one who had not rejected him in the way the others had- and even with everything else that had happened since, Vitali had not been able to stop seeing Matvey as his father.

Another choked sob left his lips as he tried to move, pain burning through all of his muscles with every single movement and panic was starting to take over, breathing shallow and barely enough to provide him with the oxygen he needed and he knew he was starting to pass out.

‘What changed?’ he blurted out, grabbing Matvey’s wrist again to force him to look back at him- but the move caused him to collapse, body sinking forward until his father caught him and instinctively pulled him closer, one hand still on his wound and the other holding his head which rested steadily on his shoulder.

Oh, how Vitali wanted to push him away- how he wanted to punch him, to scream at him, to tell him how much he hated him for putting him through hell most of his life and for never being there for him and for never standing up for him or picking his side when he needed it, and when everyone knew that Vitali was right and Nadya was wrong.

‘You did,’ Matvey finally answered, his voice barely audible and Vitali pushed his face into his father’s shirt in return, staining it with blood and sweat and tears- balled his shaky hand into a fist and dropped his knuckles against his father’s shoulder, wondering how it would feel to knock it out of place but knowing it wouldn’t solve anything and wouldn’t even make him feel better.

‘Suppose I did, too.’

Vitali could only see flashes.

A door opening- people charging in, enemies perhaps-? Mikhail appearing in his view, though Vitali could barely recognize his face as if he was looking at his friend years after they had last seen each other- six, if I remember correctly- forced apart by unforeseen and unfortunate circumstances that could probably have been prevented but it was too late to change any of it now.

The pressure on his wound vanished and he opened his mouth to scream, sudden sharp pain immobilizing his entire body and causing his vision to go dark. He felt a hand in his neck- someone plugging into the port below his ear, checking his vitals- and another on his chest, moments before plunging a Bounce Back directly between the two halves of his tattoo, a mere inch above the long faded gunshot wound the bullet of the Arasaka guard had left him with.

It hurt.

All of it hurt, and the brief rush of adrenaline caused by the medication made him nearly bolt up, several sets of hands gently pushing him back against the wall. He saw Mikhail again- and Vincent too now, reloading his gun moments before turning back toward the still open door of the room and firing at something that Vitali couldn’t see.

He was scared.

Reached out for Vincent, but he was too far away; reached out for Mikhail, but he was preoccupied, hands steadily working on something Vitali could no longer feel, wound numbed by-

By pain? Medication? Fear?

Vitali’s hands were gently pulled aside, held tightly by his father who was still there- still right beside him, despite everything, as if all their years apart and everything that had happened since did not matter anymore and in that moment it genuinely did not matter to Vitali, a strange sense of comfort washing over him and slowing the rapid, panicked beating of his heart.

Time to go.

Vitali was lifted on his feet, supported by Matvey and Mikhail- and suddenly they were no longer in the room, the blinding lights of the hallways disorienting and making it even harder for him to see. He no longer heard gunfire, the alarm blaring through the building swallowing each and every other noise whole- though the humming in his head was getting louder and louder, canceling everything else out.

More familiar faces- Cato, Huxley, Eddie- and Viktor, hurrying himself over to them but pausing upon spotting Matvey, cautious look in his eyes before giving him a barely visible nod and taking Mikhail’s place at Vitali’s side.

Two minutes.

They were almost at the exit now. At least, Vitali assumed- although he could not remember going down any stairs, and he could also not remember where the exit was in the first place. His head felt heavy and he could barely keep his eyes open now, exhaustion once more washing over him like waves rolling in on the shore.

‘Just hold on, Vitali. Almost there.’

He couldn’t even tell who was talking to him.

One of his legs gave out and he sank through his knees, held up by the two men by his sides alone, each and every blink becoming more and more difficult to recover from as his eyes wanted nothing more than to stay shut. Another voice urging him to stay awake, and his feet were lifted from the floor, and he could feel a cool breeze on h

[chronicowboy]

i NEED to stop telling mutuals about fic ideas i never intend to write it doesn't end well for me!!! (still love u big bullies tho @danielsousa @shitouttabuck @jamietarts <3)

[1mpulsee]

// have a rant on Bart having a “parent” figure and also just his relationship with Max M.ercury in general . disclaimer some of this is headcanon and also I haven’t read all of their appearances together + my memory is bad so if some stuff is inaccurate my bad but this is the interp im going with regardless bc it feels right to me lols

// when he leaves the 31st century, Bart never really fully acquires a “parent” . like yes, he has Max M.ercury . and don’t get me wrong, Bart loves him like family and looks up to him in more than a mentorship way . Max was one of the few people in the flash family who willingly took him in at any point, and he always treated Bart like his own family . even though they had their moments (some of which I ignore because sometimes comic writers make Max way too fucking mean to Bart for no reason) he arguably has treated him the best out of any of them, believing in him and defending him from other speedsters (cough Wally cough who said that) who don’t always have faith in Bart . they get along really well despite their vast differences, and they’ve come to genuinely respect each other .

// HOWEVER (as far as I know) Bart never really calls Max his father . he’s said multiple times that Max is ‘more than a mentor’, and it’s obvious that they have a close familial bond . pretty much any time Max shows up, Bart immediately and enthusiastically gravitates towards him . in the recent runs, Bart very brashly goes to Timepoint to find Max because he’s missing, even against Wally’s advice . every single time something bad has happened to Max, it has effected Bart deeply . he either goes into a frenzy trying to save him, or when there’s nothing he can do, he’s inconsolably depressed .

// but even with their extremely close familiar bond, I don’t think their relationship is necessarily parental (or at least not exclusively parental). it’s honestly rly complicated to me writing Bart and I think the characters themselves as well . multiple characters have told Max that Bart is “like his son” and Max is “like his father”, but even then neither of these characters seem to refer to each other as such . it might just be because of the age difference and deecee thinks it would be weird for Bart to basically have an elderly adoptive father ?? but calling Max Bart’s “grandfather” or “uncle” don’t exactly feel right either . (the former being kind of loaded, and the latter the term they use for their civilian cover. in their civilian personas, Max is Bart’s biological uncle which is not true obviously)

// while I don’t think Bart (at least in my interpretation) really has a close attachment to the idea of ‘mother’ and ‘father’, or even Meloni / Don in general (just because he’s barely known anything about them and never really interacted with them at all) I think Max is definitely the person he’d consider closest to a parent, even if I don’t think their bond is just that of a parent and child . I don’t think he’s against coming to see someone as his parent, but for Max, it just isn’t as simple as “he’s my father” . Max has always just been ‘Max’ to Bart, and the only consistent term of endearment we really see Max call Bart is ‘my boy’ which definitely seems pretty parental but at the same time he also doesn’t say anything like ‘son’ . Max does have a canon biological daughter - (which was a whole thing in the impulse comics that I don’t wanna get into here this post is long enough lol) and he uses language with her that’s way more straight up parental, so … yeah, Max and Bart’s bond is hard to pinpoint if you ask me and honestly that lines up with these characters lol .

// all this to say while I think Max & Bart do somewhat consider themselves to have a parent & child bond I definitely don’t think that’s exclusively what their relationship is like . if I had to try and describe it I’d say it’s a mix between Parent & Child, Grandfather & Grandchild, and Mentor & Mentee . Bart in the 31st century doesn’t really consider anybody his parent, and honestly isn’t too bothered by that fact most of the time . he’s happy with what he’s got, but sometimes he does feel a sense of longing for a ‘real’ parental relationship .

// tldr neither me nor these two characters fully know or understand what Max & Bart’s relationship is supposed to be but they don’t really care because they love each other like family and would die for each other . I think just saying “yeah Max is his father” would kinda diminish how these two are so different from everyone else around them and just how complicated the two are and their history with each other is . so it will stay somewhat undefined for me & them .

[eemoo1o-animoo]

WIP(?) TITLE: Waltz

Okay, so what if, at the end of Ciel and Sebastian’s contract, Sebastian finds himself faltering, and proposes one final dance with Ciel. It’s a waltz. Ciel obliges, awkwardly, really just wanting to get it all over and done with, but little does he know Sebastian isn’t going to let this waltz end.

Their contract has also been fulfilled so Sebastian doesn’t need to continue with the three wishes, anymore. And he doesn’t. They keep waltzing and waltzing around the manor’s ballroom, and they’re not stopping.

Ciel is starting to tire but Sebastian is still keeping the right tempo, leading the dance over and over to music that doesn’t stop, repeating each step as his dance partner grows weaker by each lap around the room.

Ciel will sometimes snap out of his haze, trying to convince Sebastian to let him die, to devour his soul, to end the waltz. Anything. Sebastian only smiles and says something like “Not long, now, my lord”, but this is a lie. Because Sebastian no longer needs to tell the truth. And if Ciel demands him to stop, he no longer needs to listen.

They’ve been dancing for so long because Sebastian doesn’t want to let go. And with the spell he’s cast over the room, keeping candles lit and unmelted, playing music with no source with instruments that don’t seem to wear, making Ciel’s mind float away until he temporarily forgets that this is wrong, forgets what he was thinking just moments prior.

Ciel’s tired, and he wants to stop. But with each plea and with each demand Sebastian grows angrier and more impatient. “Why can’t you just remember the steps? You’ve always been so left-footed. Just remember the steps! Can’t you see what I’m trying to do, you petulant little brat?!”

And then, as if by magic or by the snap of his fingers, the scene repeats itself as though the outburst has never happened, and they continue dancing. And dancing. A final waltz that will never end, because Sebastian isn’t ready to let go.