#very excited to see what you write!

[deadsetobsessions]

Pt. 3

Again, the timing is icky but pretty much everything about it is icky.

——

Bruce wondered when Talia al Ghul would stop upheaving his life.

He loves Damian, but one surprise child was a lot, considering the cult deprogramming they’d had to do.

A second, older, surprise child? That was a bit overkill.

At least this time, the conception was consensual.

Bruce cradled his head in his hands, still-gloved fingers gripping onto sweat-soaked hair. The glow of the bat computer shone on his lone figure, sat huddled before endless screens of investigations and the unraveling threads of Bruce’s sanity.

How was he to cope with the knowledge that a child- his child, like Dick and Damian and Tim and Jason and- suffered so at the man he thought he had beaten so soundly?

It was his fault, Bruce thought, that Ra’s al Ghul tortured his… Bruce’s… daughter so brutally. It was no doubt, a way to assuage his anger at Bruce’s denial of being his heir.

His mistakes always came back to haunt him, but it never laid its furious eyes and hands on his own person. No, when Bruce made mistakes, his loved ones paid for it.

He tried his best, pushed harder as Batman, in penance. But this… his unknown daughter, trapped in the shadows of the league where it is cold and cruel and brutally painful…

How could he repent for the sin of letting his daughter suffer and chained at the hands of Ra’s al Ghul? How could he show her that the shadows could be kind? That he would rather break his own spine and get lost in the time stream again before he could even fathom hurting her? He found himself stuck in the same loop of thoughts that plagued him when Damian first came into his orbit.

The screens turned black, and Oracle’s call sign flashed onto the dark pixels.

“Oracle. I hadn’t finished looking at the cases.”

“Go to sleep, Bruce.”

“No, there is still work to be-” his voice, dipping into the growl, died a quick death when Barbara cut him off.

“Your daughter is coming tomorrow. So, unless you want to look like a disheveled grease racoon when you meet her, go shower and get some actual sleep.”

Bruce paused, feeling oddly offended. His eye bags weren’t that bad.

Bruce caught sight of his reflection in one of the blacked out monitors.

…Nevermind.

He sighed. “…Thank you, Barbara.”

“Anytime, Bruce. I’m always here to kick your ass into gear.”

Bruce huffed, but obligingly got up to change and shower. Alfred silently appeared at the elevators, polished shoes tapping against the stone floor as he raised an imperious eyebrow at Bruce.

“I see Miss Barbara has managed to persuade you to retire at an hour common to regular man, Master Bruce.”

“Ah, yes, she… did.” Bruce felt the urge to apologize, because if Alfred’s up because of him, it’ll wear down harsher on the older man’s health. If there was one thing he took seriously, it would be the health of his loved ones. “Sorry, Alfred. I’ll head up to bed soon.”

“See to it that you do, Master Bruce. I will warm dinner that you had missed by many hours and bring it to your room.”

Bruce lingered as the butler turned around and began making his way back to the main house.

Alfred paused and turned around once more. “If I may offer you some advice?”

“Please. Always.”

Alfred sniffed delicately, most definitely thinking of the times Bruce decided not to take his very well reasoned and seasoned advice. “You have done well with Young Master Damian.”

“Most of that was Dick,” Bruce interrupted, man enough to admit that he wasn’t a present or a particularly good father figure before his jaunt through time and space. Alfred shot him a chiding look, reprimanding him for interrupting. Bruce rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Perhaps, but you have put in effort towards all of your children in a way that I have yet to see since Master Jason had… gone.”

“I’ll never make that period of time up to Tim.” Bruce whispered. Another thing he was guilty of. Tim still avoided some spaces in the manor, even when Bruce had-

“That is because you sit here, wallowing in your guilt,” Alfred returned. He added a belated “Master Bruce,” and it sounded like ‘you utter buffoon.’

“But…”

“You must take the first step, Master Bruce.”

“What if she hates me? What if I’m not ready- what if I can’t help her?”

“You will try. She deserves that, at the very least. You must try. Even if you are not ready for the day, Master Bruce, it can not always be night.”

“… You’re right.” Bruce straightened his shoulders. Time doesn’t wait. He, of all people, knew that.

“You will find that I am hardly ever wrong.” Alfred primly rested his hands atop each other.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“Of course. It was also meant literally, Master Bruce, for the sun shall try its best to peek out of Gotham’s smog in approximately three hours and fourteen minutes.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Bruce grouched.

——

Her mother gave her a slow, cautious hug, akin to approaching a wild animal.

She huffed, and pulled her mother into a crushing hug. She allowed herself, for the first time in a long time, to linger and cling onto her mother’s shirt. Another tendency that Ra’s had thought he’d beaten out of her.

“Be careful,” the reincarnation whispered.

“You as well, my beloved daughter.”

‘You do not have to remind me that I am beloved, mother. I know.’

Talia al Ghul tucked a strand of the reincarnation’s curled hair behind her ear. “No, I do not believe that you do. But that is… my own fault. I will tell you and remind you that you are beloved to me as long as I can. I have two decades of it to make up to you, habibti.”

The flight attendant- a League operative- returned from placing her bags onto the private plane.

——

A sleek car made its way up Wayne Manor’s winding driveway. She’d declined the offer to pick her up from the airport. She had wanted a vehicle of her own, and some time before she met every one else. No doubt, knowing what she knew of her brother and Bruce Wayne, not to mention the little photographer, they were most likely tracing her path to Wayne manor obsessively.

She tapped her nails on the wheel as she drove towards her brother. Brothers. And… Bruce Wayne. On one hand, she’s kept them safe. On the other, she’d sacrificed years of getting to know them. It was odd, to feel this intensely awkward and nervous after years of intense hatred or apathy sprinkled by the the occasional love and fondness for Damian and her mother.

“Hmmm.” She hummed, slight smile spreading a bit more as the sound came out without pain. Two weeks, and the novelty of freedom had not worn off. She thinks that it would never wear off. She cherished it.

The gate had opened without needing a code, so they most definitely knew she was here. It’s a good thing she had prepared gifts in advance. Dodging Gothamites as they drove and jaywalked had been a rather unforeseen ordeal that she was not looking forward to repeating.

She rolled to a smooth stop at the front doors, giving the intricately carved oak doors a passing glance. She huffed a laugh as she saw Damian, flanked by Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth, staring proudly outside at the front door. They’re anticipatory of her arrival. Warmth spread through her heart, and for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t the heat of rage.

She opened the doors with a quiet click and hiss, stepping out onto the heated paved driveway, and closed the door. At the steps, the two older men had frozen but Damian had come walking quickly towards her.

“Damian,” she whispered as he came near her, suffusing as much fondness as she could into his name. Her little brother all but sprinted towards her, screeching to a stop in front of her with excited eyes.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, ukhti.” He said formally. Her eyes softened and she pulled him into a hug.

(yā waṭawāṭī alṣṣḡīr is the phonetic spelling.) ("وطواطي الصغير" is the actual spelling. I think.)

“I have missed you, ya wat-wat alssgirr,” she whispered. The familiar endearment, “my little bat,” rung warmly like a warm crease ruffling his hair. The silks of her clothes and the ever present warm sand and candle scent wrapped around him like a hug… like the hug she was currently giving him.

(Her clothes were in blues and silvers. It suited her, she who had been forced in green and golds and cuts of black.)

“I still can not believe you all but told me who father was and I still could not figure it out until mother told me.”

She pulled back. ‘Damian, you were five.’

“I have little doubt you were smarter at my age, ukhti, so do not lie to me.” Damian grumbled. Nevertheless, he stepped back.

‘No, you were smarter.’

And to her, he was. It’s not like Damian had the edge she did, and he wasn’t the one trapped for twenty something years. She had foolishly thought that Ra’s wouldn’t dare to harm her too much, seeing as she was his blood, but Damian knew from day 1. She made sure he did. If she was half as smart as Damian, she would have bent her knee and obeyed, no matter how she felt about killing. She would have taken warning Ra’s issued and soaked in the poisonous praise to bide her time to escape. She could not- she did not- do what Damian found effortless, and paid the price for it.

“Unlikely,” Damian said, turning around fully, but she could see the tips of her brother’s ears burning. Ah, perhaps she had been to stingy with compliments if he was shy hearing a mild one, sincere as it might have been. “This is Alfred Pennyworth. He is the butler, and an integral part of the family.”

Damian glanced at her, taking in her suddenly impassive face, and nods. Good. His attitude towards Pennyworth when he first arrived was… mildly shameful. His ukhti was smart enough to know that and therefore he won the argument.

On her part, the reincarnation followed along like she hadn’t mildly stalked this family for decades. It was nice to see excitement rearing on her brother’s face. It was rare in the league and Gotham’s gloom had ironically cheered him up far more than the suns of desserts ever did. She nodded at Alfred Pennyworth, who had admirably recovered from his earlier shock.

“And this is… Bruce Wayne. Our father.”

She tucked a strand of curled hair back, impassive blue eyes meeting her… father’s.

She offered him a short nod.

——

“My word,” Alfred Pennyworth muttered as his charge’s (his son’s) daughter step out of the car. Her steps were silent, graceful, and lighter than a gazelle.

The way she moved, even as she hugged young master Damian, whispered of leashed lethality and treacherous waters. She moved like if grace had a form and Alfred was willing to bet his entire career that not an iota of air got close to her without her knowledge of it, and it reminded the aging man of the young Miss Cassandra. He knew then, that she could have pretended to be unassuming and that he would have had a hard time equating her with danger. That she showed them her potential for death was a sign of trust.

But it was not the way she claimed death as her own name that caught the former spy’s attention.

No.

It was her blue eyes and the way they ever so slightly crinkled fondly as she laid eyes upon her younger brother. It was the way her hair, curled in a nostalgic style, that curtained her face as she spoke to the young Wayne heir, though he could not hear her voice. It was the way that she tucked Damian against her side, protective but encouraging.

It was the way that she, despite Talia al Ghul’s features, resembled his dearest friend, Martha Wayne, in her every movement.

Alfred Pennyworth felt like he was decades younger, standing before Martha as she fondly tucked Bruce against her side and successfully needled Thomas into going to see Bruce’s favorite movie.

It felt like he had his best friend once more, just a little.

From the way Master Bruce stared, it seemed as though he thought the same.

Alfred straightened when young master Damian introduced him. He was the Wayne Family Butler. And she was definitely a Wayne.

Master Bruce stood there like a lout as his daughter greeted him. Alfred shot him a scathing look- he had taught Master Bruce much better manners than to gape, the nerve!- before smoothly directing the attention away. His hands moved as he spoke.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss-”

She made a sharp motion to cut him off and signed something. Alfred might be a tad rusty in Arabic sign language (like he and the rest of the family hadn’t spent the last two weeks frantically memorizing and brushing up on their sign language) but he knew a name sign when he saw one.

“al Ghul.” Damian recognized. He did not use regular Arabic Sign Language with her often, vastly preferring their own established sign, but that did not mean he slacked. “You may call her al-Ghul.”

‘Or nothing at all,’ Damian’s sister signed. She looked at him like she was waiting. A test, Alfred realized.

Alfred pushed the slight twinge of disheartening disappointment away. He had wanted to call her Miss Wayne, to perhaps indulge in a bit of nostalgia for a while longer. But he shan’t do it at the expense of his charge.

“Miss al Ghul,” he continued, not missing a beat, imitating the name sign with pin point accuracy. She lifted her chin. Alfred sighed in relief. He passed. And now, perhaps he should revive Ra’s al Ghul and have a nice, entirely civil conversation about Miss al Ghul’s expectation that her wishes would go ignored.

Alfred will bring his shotguns and most likely would abandon pretenses as soon as that old goat got into his crosshairs. Old as he might be, he was still a very good shot, and civility was reserved for those with honor.

“Please head inside. I am sure young master Damian would love to guide you on a tour,” Alfred continued like he didn’t think of violent second deaths for Ra’s al Ghul. “Perhaps Master Bruce will join you, if you are amendable, once he has managed to stop imitating the rather life like form of a smooth brained sloth.”

Alfred congratulated himself on the small crinkle of humor that graced Miss al Ghul’s otherwise expressionless face. Well, expressionless to those that did not know where to look. Fortunately, Alfred and the rest of the family were used to stoic caveman micro expressions, courtesy of Bruce, and therefore it would not be much of a problem.

“I will bring your bags up to your room.”

She scrutinized him and then dipped her head.

‘Be careful. There are dangerous things in there.’

“I assure you the utmost privacy in regards to your belongings,” Alfred said.

“Pennyworth will not peruse your belongings, ukhti. He has more honor and respect than that.”

Alfred would like to interrogate Talia al Ghul to see who he must introduce some lead to, that clearly disrespected Miss al Ghul’s privacy like so. But for now, he will bask in the warmth of young master Damian’s implicit trust.

Miss al Ghul nodded. She opened the trunk of the car- the interior of which Alfred could now perceive to be entirely customized and of extremely quality material. She handed the keys and gave him access to her luggage. Then, placing her hand at young master Damian’s shoulder, followed the young master into the halls where she ought to have been raised. Or, at the very least, ought to have taken a step in at least once before today.

Master Bruce lingered at the doorway, torn between following the siblings and helping Alfred with the luggage (read: running away.)

“The daylight is wasting, Master Bruce.”

Master Bruce skittered in behind them like a newborn colt, wobbling and anxious.

Well, it’s time for Alfred to do his job. There was only a single duffle bag.

Hm. He’ll have to tell Master Bruce to take her out for necessities. He hardly doubted that a single bag could last her very long. And Alfred Pennyworth was hellbent on convincing his granddaughter to stay, may the gods have mercy on whichever poor soul that tried to convince her otherwise for he won’t.

——

She followed Damian as he led her deeper within the walls of a home she knew by heart from afar. She was like the little photographer in that way. Bruce Wayne trailed behind them like a particularly awkward ghoul, and she found it amusing to equate this turtle necked man was the illustrious Dark Knight. How dangerous.

“This is the first parlor. It is for guests of the… regular persuasion.”

Ah, for the civilians. She nodded.

“Ah, the silverware was selected by Alfred.” Bruce interjected, gesturing to the display silverware by the door. Their cabinets were intricate without taking away from the paintings upon the delicate ceramic.

She looked at him, wondering why he was following before giving up and nodding. It was his house.

(Bruce, for his part, felt like his daughter had laid judgement upon him… and found him lacking.)

‘It is… adequate.’ She sighed to Damian. Damian tutted.

“It’s fine to say quaint, sister. It could hardly compare to the palace.”

Bruce jolted, plans for converting the manor into a palace already in the making.

No, he couldn’t. Alfred would murder him with his favorite dish.

‘I like it, even if it is smaller.’

“….you do?”

‘You are happy here. It is warm to you. I like it.’ She repeated.

Damian latched onto her sleeve. “I- I shall show you my art. And then introduce you to the rest of the bumbling fools we have for brothers-”

She tilted her head. Bruce paused as well when Damian’s words cut off.

“If… you want them as brothers. It would be… helpful, to integrate.”

She waited.

“But… I am the first. Your blood. And-”

‘I will make room in my heart for them, if you wish it. I already know some of them.’ She allowed a small smile to show. ‘But that does not mean you will ever lose your place, little bat.’

Damian felt extremely thankful that father had not managed to pick up their version of sign language yet.

“Well… as long as you’re aware.” He marched further into the manor. She followed, once more, a look of fond indulgence gleaming in her eyes.

——

She stood in front of a painting her younger brother had done.

‘I made it two weeks ago,’ he’d told her, fingers curled into her palm.

It was green. She hated green. And gold. And ominous. Rage. Harsh, bold strokes and spots where the texture of the canvas were either globbed over or painfully showing through.

Her hands traced the single stroke of blue amidst the turbulence of green.

She tucked Damian against her side and realized that perhaps he understood after all, what it felt like. Perhaps not all of it, but enough.

——

“Here is your room, ukhti.” Damian stood watch as his sister scanned the room. She quickly removed three listening devices as Damian sighed.

‘You’ve gotten better.’ She crossed the room and plucked the listening bug from its place on the door frame.

“Clearly not good enough.” Damian huffed. “But I have beaten your knife game record. What do you think of the room?”

His sister rolled her eyes and handed him a blade she pulled from somewhere on her person.

An implicit challenge.

“No cutting your fingers off, please.” Father interceded.

“Begone, father. We are doing sibling bonding, something I remember you insisting that I participate in.”

Damian shut the door on his stupefied face, matching his sister’s sharp smirk as he splayed his hand on the dresser and raised the blade.

——

Alfred walked in with a covered plate and paused at the sight of the dresser.

Then, he looked on as Damian sat at the desk, rapidly signing to his sister in their own version of the language as said sister pulled out an entire wardrobe and a half to fill in the walk-in closet.

Alfred made a note to study some more magic.

“Miss al-Ghul. I bring you a snack that young master Damian made and to inform you that the others will be arrive en masse, within an hour.” Alfred paused. “Might I interest you in a mat before the two of you decide to… take a gander at furniture redecoration in the future?”

“Of course, Pennyworth. Apologies.”

“I’ll try to make sure they won’t overwhelm you. They can be a lot, at once.” Bruce said from the doorway. Miss al Ghul glanced at him and dipped her head in thanks. Her eyes wandered right back to the dessert.

Alfred made another note.

‘You made this for me?’ She asked, switching to standard.

Damian grumbled. “Do not eat it. I could not get the spice quite right, no matter how many variations…”

‘I am sure it will be good.’ She took the plate from Alfred’s hand and uncovered it.

They all had the fortune of witnessing a true, genuine wide eyed smile from a stoic face.

Alfred inhaled sharply. He had thought Master Bruce and young master Damian had inherited Thomas’ dimples. But she had inherited his entire smile.

‘Bstilla!’ She turned to Damian. ‘My favorite! You made this?’

“I know that. I am not incompetent as to not notice when you snuck three of them from the palace kitchens. You must give me the recipe from the cooks. I could not get it to taste like the spices they used. I even imported spices!”

Miss al-Ghul, like she had forgotten he and Master Bruce were there, stabbed a fork into the pie and put it into her mouth.

“Ukhti! Don’t- do not eat that! Spit it out! The pastry is too thick and-”

She held up her hand. ‘It’s good. I know what it is missing.’

She strode to her magic bag and pulled out a bottle.

She sprinkled flakes on top and offered a forkful of b’stilla to the young master who, shockingly, did not insist on his own utensil.

His expression lightened. “This is it. What is it? You know of the chefs’ methods?”

She sprinkled the mysterious spice on the food. ‘You’ve never eaten anything the chefs have made. I made your food by hand to prevent assassinations and inoculate you against toxins. Also, this is poison.’

Alfred stiffened.

“It’s what?!” Bruce spoke up, rushing into the room, finally to try and look Damian over.

‘It is fine. He has been immune since he was three.’

Miss al Ghul placed a piece of poisoned b’stilla in her mouth and ate. Young master Damian batted his father off, saying that poison inoculation was hardly a surprise. What was a surprise, though, was something else.

“That is- you- you’re the one who made my meals?” Young Master Damian demanded, looking guilty. “But- I- why did you not tell me? I made all of those demands in the middle of the night- what about the time I sent back the knafe fifteen times?”

She nodded.

“Why would you- why did you not tell me?”

‘You knew what grandfather thought of women. And besides, it was the only time I was allowed sweets. He did not want me to ruin my figure as it would lower my marketability.’

Alfred itched for his gun.

“You are not a commodity,” Master Bruce stated, intense as he tended to be. Miss al Ghul blinked at him.

‘… I am aware. But… thank you.’

“Ah. Yes. Of course.” And there went the emotionally intelligent Master Bruce. May he rest in peace until the next time he decides to make an appearance.

“I believe today is a chocolate chip cookie day, do you not, young master Damian?”

“Yes, Pennyworth, I believe it is.”

‘I have never tried it before.’

“You will love it. Pennyworth’s cookies are the best in the world, as is expected.”

Alfred watched as young master Damian tugged his sister out and marveled. The sides of his grandson they rarely get to see was so easily pulled out by his older sister.

——

Y’all I wanted to write her meeting the siblings but Alfred came out of no where and went haha nope feel the angst of a man who lost his best friend and had to raise her vigilante child.

Alfred, seeing Bruce put on the bat cowl for the first time: martha, why have you forsaken me

——

Me: what would baby assassins play as a binding game?

Me, remembering my past as a kid: I Spy, but with trackers and bugs. oh wait… THE KNIFE GOES CHOP CHOP CHOP

——

Also, I think B’stilla was food meant only for royalty and was probably rooted in slavery, so I thought it would be a meaningful nod to her position of privilege and how she are like a king but was treated as a… bed warmer and a slave. Yeah. If anyone knowledgeable on food history wants to school me on b’stilla, feel free to do so. I did like, a cursory research at best.

[pastafossa]

How do you get past writer's block? I have a fic that I'm working on that is updating on a schedule, and I made the mistake of giving myself a month off in between parts and now I can't really get back into writing it. I don't want to leave it abandoned because I have a few people who I know are really invested and I don't want to leave them hanging, but I'm having a hard time getting as excited to write it as I did before.

Ok so I'm in a weird place for this, hilariously. Because The Answer That Usually Works For Me (TM) and that carried me through a regular weekly update schedule for almost two and a half years is, in fact, not at present working for me apparently my brain can write through a pandemic but not through recovery from the shit that went down in December/Jan so we found my writing kryptonite. However, I'm going to assume you're closer to 2021 Pasta than 2024 Pasta. SO LET'S GO WITH THE METHOD I NORMALLY USE SINCE IT WAS SUCCESSFUL FOR YEARS. Cause that's the thing: sure, I've written almost a million words, and pumped out chapters for years (ignoring the past few months) but I promise, I hit the same walls as everyone else even when nailing weekly uploads. But over those years, I came up with a fairly solid list of steps that I'd go through one by one.

Fun one first: when I'm in a block, I almost always try re-engaging with canon first. I'd rewatch my favorite episodes, binge a whole season, or even the whole series depending on how much of a boost I needed. For me at least that was often like Pavlov's bell, my favorite story triggering a flood of affection. I'd remember why I loved this fandom and the characters so much, and it could often kickstart my brain and excitement back into gear. If you really want to dangle a carrot and your fic touches on canon, focus on watching parts you're excited to get to in your story. A big one for me in TRT for example was the post-Nobu, Nelson v. Murdock episode, since I'd had that planned for TRT almost since the start, and I was very excited to reach the hurt/comfort I had planned. Even if your fic isn't following canon though, see if it'll give you a creative rush again!

So let's say step 1 doesn't work, either because the canon just isn't hitting the spot or because your fic is dealing with something else. In this case, my next step was usually to jump ahead to write a scene I was really eager to get to. It was often a short blurb, but it was always something I REALLY wanted to explore, and because I'm also a reader who likes exactly the tropes and plots I'm writing, I want to read what fucking happens. Except, fuck, I'm not there yet, am I? And I can't see how that scene finishes until I write my way up to it and finish it. This is my own carrot. Multiple scenes in TRT were written months or even years in advance, simply as a way to bribe myself. This is also an option!

But maybe this doesn't work. Sometimes it didn't. This is when it got a bit more serious. For anyone who was reading at the time, you'd have noticed that I'd sometimes drop side fics, either Matt POVs or one-shots. This was me, in essence, working on the shower principle (basically, ideas/solutions will come if you stop thinking about it and do something else, like take a shower). I figured if I went and wrote something else - either with less stress, or something fun and dopamine-inducing - the part of my brain focused on my Big Fic would wander around the writer's block beneath my notice. And it almost always worked, all while I still kept my brain trained that, hey, even if we're not writing This Thing, we're still writing.

But let's say this doesn't work either. You're well, and truly, stuck. Been there now and then. And, you're going to hate this one. I hate it but it works 9 times of 10. And it is: Write anyway. Half of it was spite. I was not going to give up my schedule, I liked my schedule. The other half was that I knew myself. I knew if I could just get past the chapter/plot/dialogue I was struggling with, I'd be able to roll along again. And so I made a rule: whatever I wrote didn't have to be pretty. It just had to exist. If that meant I wrote, "Jane chased the cat in circles and caught it. She was happy." then that's what I wrote. Because everything, EVERYTHING, can be fixed in editing. But you can't fix what doesn't exist. And so there were those nights when I would scowl and groan and snarl and bash my head against that writer's block until 5 in the morning, but in the end Jane chased that fucking cat adn caught it, it was written. Hilariously, sometimes those chapters have wound up amazing (likely because I spent so much time hammering at them) and reader favorites. There are absolutely, I believe, moments where you can, and should, see if you can push through.

But that brings me to *waves* now. A lesson I've only recently recently and with encouragement. Namely... sometimes brain no go and that's ok. My steps work for me 99.9% of the time, but I've done the above during the past few months, and it just... hasn't dragged me out entirely out of it yet. Sometimes, our brains demand that break, especially when things just aren't going great. There's a reason TRT had a break of roughly 2 years between chapter 4 and chapter 5 (feel free to check the chapter index with dates on AO3!). I had some life things happening and I just was not in a place to write, even if I was still busily plotting and planning and thinking about TRT behind the scenes. And that was ok. We're not machines. I came back like a bulldozer in Jan 2021, yes, and bulldozed through weekly updates, but that break was needed. And now I'm obviously taking a short one again while I recover from everything. It's ok if you're not in a place for it. So the last step is one I've been told a lot by dear friends recently as they helped me through this: be kind to yourself, and try not to stress if none of the above works. The story will always be there, and if TRT is any indication through all its highs and lows, your readers will be there when you start up again.

[fruchtfleisch-art]

It's been a little quiet around here, but I promise I'm still writing! This fic is going to be a 20k monster at the very least (my final drafts are always longer than my first drafts), and I've been trying to make it to the finish line this month so I can start the long, long process of shaping it into something readable. Have some snippets of weird little boys, past and present!

[cosmic-d1ce]

I so badly hope that when Forever and Missa fight for Phil's affection that Forever is just as dramatic as he's been this whole time

I want a dramatic speech professing his undying love, i want him to admit its not even about Brunim anymore and he would destroy worlds for Phil if he just gives him the chance, they could be so powerful together, together they can make sure no eggs are harmed again! They could do anything if they were together, Forever just needs a chance to prove himself

I want drama im rooting for Forever

[xannerz]

its always surreal to me to see people praise s2 of centaurworld. s2 was so spectacularly bombastic and aimless and it ended in this awkward forgettable fizzle.

i feel like a dick saying it b/c i really do love the show lmao. or, at least half of it lmao (/stares at tnwk). gf and i've been thinking about rewatching it just to write out our thoughts on why s2 was such a poor follow-up to s1 - from the tone to the setup to all the worldbuilding the narrative had to offer in between the (far more) memorable songs of s1. idk. it's sad because cw really had the bones of a cult classic, but idek if you can call it that.

ive seen a few posts commenting on its lack of popularity, and i feel like it certainly deserves more, b/c i do feel like it's a novel idea made w/ love, but the shift btwn s1 and s2 wasnt just in the plot. there was a full-on *fracture* in the quality and direction and i'm still scratching my head over it. more than i should be, probably. but, it's just a bummer.

[every-sanji]

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Yeah so, my Kinkuary plans didn't pan out unfortunately. I'm really sad about it because I was looking forward to getting them all done but, between irl responsibilities and slowly trying to remember how to be a person, I couldn't make it work.

[lxgentlefolkcomic]

I know Mx. Arcane has the big Barking Harker project we're dying to read, but if between writing it they could throw their flavor of horror/tension/romance/friendship in the comic a couple of times then it'd be tasty.

i have some exciting news

[thecollectionsof]

Can I have 11 and 19 please 😊

11. What work took you the longest to write?

this year?? i mean soulmate au has been a wip since early september so i think that one takes the cake, but as-of-yet unreleased postcards fic was conceptualized in may and is looking to be my longest fic yet so that one might beat it. for posted fics it was scam likely, which i think i started in march 2022??

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

i think i wanna do more lemyanka maybe? and i would like to actually write for s16 ships when people are into them because i missed that for s15 :p who knows if i will, because i'm not really the type to write ships i'm not into myself, but i'm hoping i'll find one that i enjoy!!!! :)

[oshiawaseni]

The unbreakable bond between two disconnected ends

While I do think that Deku is incredibly heroic, I also subscribe to the idea he loses himself the most and goes hardest specifically when it comes to Kacchan, I can’t see him motivated to this extent and acting what appears to be without limit for any other character and between us and Horikoshi knowing this little fact, it makes Bkdk so endearing and easy to rally behind.

A part of me feels that Kacchan sees all of Deku’s actions for him only as his reckless heroism, and that Deku would be like this for anyone… and this might be why they haven’t come to truly understand one another yet. Like is it really such a big coincidence that with the exception of Katsuki Bakugou Rising, Kacchan and Deku have never shown each other their heart and how strongly they feel for one another? Whether it’s simply batting in their corner to others or this deep emotional connection they have causing them stress and worry about the other, tirelessly wanting to get Deku back to the point of sleeplessness, even breakdowns and Deku’s quirk awakenings over Kacchan.

Hence Izuku’s shock with the apology and not accepting being called Izuku by him right away. That was surely because he doesn’t understand the scope of which Kacchan has fiercely worried over him and how that worry is now coming from a love for Izuku that’s probably always been resting inside him. 

But we all know that rather than plain and platonic heroism, that likewise, when it involves Kacchan, Deku’s own loud actions have been coming from a place in his heart occupied by this unchangeable pure love for him and also Deku’s complete inability to accept his own existence in the world without Kacchan somewhere within his reach. Think of “Give him back!” That was the stubborn side of Izuku that wouldn’t let Kacchan go to a place where he couldn’t see him, watch over him and confirm his existence that’s right in front of him. What incredible attachment he has always felt towards him, despite everything.

Izuku kept tabs on Kacchan to the point he knows when he last spoke to him. To Deku, it didn’t matter what Kacchan was doing, as long as he could ascertain his presence nearby and that he’s okay, even if they weren’t necessarily on friendly terms. And Kacchan very much felt the same thing about Deku. “Watch me, Deku.” Watch how strong and cool of a hero I am, watch my back with those big eyes of yours and praise me like you always do. But when he realised Izuku was no longer in his reach, Kacchan fought in earnest for a chance to get him back again, to not just trailing behind him but by his side. Which is why their distance being removed and them communicating like best friends again is such a big deal and would absolutely mean the world to both of them.

I’ve always had a vague sense that Kacchan had been running away from Deku. Which side of Deku had Kacchan been running away from all this time? Heroism? Love? Both? Because Deku’s heart scared him. He didn’t just envy it or feel inferior to it - he also feared it. To me, Kacchan rejecting Deku’s kindness feels like someone saying no to a warm hug from somebody they care about on a freezing winter’s day.  It made no sense. He pushes affection away so much to the point that he’s virtually touch starved now. So why did he really do it? It’s one of Decchan’s mysteries that I wish was explained fully.

And on the other side of things, Deku’s actions towards Kacchan felt more and more nonsensical as the story unfolded. There’s this confounding enigma that despite Kacchan treating Deku awfully for years, Deku has consistently always jumped very strongly to Kacchan’s defense - which makes you wonder what it is about them that allowed Deku to carry his four year old self’s pure and positive feelings towards Kacchan for so long. (This is why middle schooler bkdk is top tier dj for me, they often come up with their own answer to fill the gaping hole of missing context in this complicated bkdk puzzle.) And while I can’t consolidate in my head the truth to the mystery of their past that became such a complicated relationship in its current state (at least not a truth that belongs in a shounen… unless..? haha), I do know that Kacchan is now acutely aware of the fact this entire time he has been loved, not looked down on, by Deku and realised when Deku almost died that he also possesses feelings of love and attachment towards Deku too.

This revelation honestly affected him in a big way. It broke Kacchan’s hardened walls down piece by piece over time, until there was quite literally nothing left but his own exposed heart that he plainly laid out for Izuku.

The shot of the wound from his sacrifice that reopened - bleeding, vulnerable. A beautiful metaphor for his exposed heart and truth that he openly gives to Izuku for the first time in front of everybody. Because he realised Izuku is more important to him than his guilt and his shame and his pride. 

And because they are such an iconic and invincible duo who above anything else, want to take care of each other, this does have me hoping Izuku will take his vulnerable heart and treat it gently at the end of everything, shounen or not.

But as of now, we’re at an emotional stand-still from Izuku’s side.

Kacchan’s words aged very well, past hundreds of chapters because despite being the protag of the story, we are always left wondering how Deku really feels. Kacchan’s frustration at Deku and characterisation of him here is so accurate lately 😅

I get the sense that all of this ambiguity they feel from the other has been written there for a reason and will have a meaningful climax where they will come to understand each other in the coming fight. Horikoshi places purpose behind all of the dialogue he writes - so with the dialogue between Deku and Toga in mind, when it comes to Izuku and Kacchan’s history and both not being fully aware of how much they care for one another, I think in the near future, they will acknowledge the inspiration and strength they’ve found in each other. “Don’t you also want to share the same heart?” Kacchan has been doing this with Izuku ever since DvK2 and we all know Izuku draws his own powers from Kacchan since the very beginning because he sees Kacchan not only as his personal hero, but as the embodiment of strength and confidence and overcoming one’s hardships. He watched him for years win against his biggest one of all: himself.

Because it’s not only All Might he’s been wanting to become more like, but someone else even closer to him. Someone who, without fail, has always motivated him to go beyond, above himself and even all logic and reason. And that someone has always been Kacchan. Ever since they were little. So now I am hoping they come to understand what’s inside each other’s hearts (especially Deku’s which is always shrouded in mystery.)

They understand each other’s strategies perfectly, and yet Izuku and Kacchan have always had this big gap whenever it came to knowing their true feelings. So as an answer to their disconnect over the years, an answer to their relationship which contains a mysterious and profoundly deep bond that leaves us wishing their gap to close even more, it makes sense that a moment will come to pass where they’ll really see and understand each other for the first time, without all of this evasiveness we’ve gotten used to.

[parchmentknight]

guys im losing my mind over elvis presley foaming at the mouth good lord look at him... hes been dead for like 50 years ...... dear god elvis freaking presley

[allaganexarch]

all right well, I am not sane, so feel free to friend request me or tell me on here if you are also not sane so maybe we can yell encouragement at each other :)

https://nanowrimo.org/participants/superfluouskeys

My big project is Untitled Fantasy Novel TM (very original pls do not steal)! I have one working title that is stupid and another one I'm not sure I like so I'm not sharing yet in hopes that either I will make up my mind or something better will come to me LOL. In general I think I've never really had to name, like, places or entities too much in my writing so rn I can foresee those aspects reading a bit like a b-grade YA dystopia (you know with Important Capitalization) and am just using placeholder words to avoid getting hung up on it for the moment.

I'm like vibrating with excitement currently LOL, so hoping to take advantage of the motivation spike while it lasts! I have an extremely vague outline and have been vividly hallucinating several scenes for weeks now, so I think I am about as prepared as I can be!

I'm workshopping my synopsis so here it is in its earliest form:

The year is 12:16, and the Era is called Progress, but Tamsin Ward is a young woman from a town that time forgot.  Godsplace remains stubbornly set in its archaic ways, and Tamsin has largely resigned herself to an unremarkable fate.

One night, however, Tamsin discovers that she possesses the Gift.  Those who have the Gift need training to control it.  To receive training, Tamsin will have to enter the Academy and become Forgotten.  She must renounce all her other worldly connections, as they must renounce her, until her training is complete.  Tamsin, who has never felt particularly connected to anything, is only too happy to oblige.

But there is darkness in this strange new world of magic, a Curse to counter every Gift a hundred times over.  Once the darkness finds you, or once you call out to it, you can never be free of its whispers.  Many years ago, it was foretold that a child born at the crossroads of time would set the darkness free of its shackles.  People the world over have countless different ideas about the fabled prophecy, but nearly all agree on one thing: this prophecy cannot come to pass, or the world as they know it will be lost forever.

Vague and ancient stories hold little appeal for Tamsin at first glance.  But as mournful voices begin to whisper in her dreams, and misfortune seems to follow her everywhere she treads, Tamsin is forced to wonder whether those vague and ancient stories have more truth to them than she could have imagined.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

ok ok so you know how my life has majorly revolved around my pain since july & how that has been extremely difficult :) well lately I find myself getting up later than I want to & making my bed as badly as I possibly can & getting out of the house after noon when I planned to get out in the morning & walking to the library when it’s sunny & sitting there for hours & the whole time I’m most concerned with writing & that it’s incredible what I’m doing, it’s a little paradise

[quickhacked]

Chapter >> 17 [x] Characters >> Cato Wu (oc), Eddie Wolfe (oc), Lauren Dimas (oc), Mikhail Koshechkin (oc), Panam Palmer, Rogue Amendiares, Viktor Vektor, Vincent Mayer (oc), Vitali Dobrynin (oc) Total >> 9.2k Warnings >> Blood, chess mention :/, death, injuries, irresponsible driving, violence

‘Hey- Get up. Can’t have you dying on me now.’

The constant, gentle beeping of a nearby heart monitor slowly woke Cato from her slumber, the noise reminiscent of her alarm yet she did not even have to open her eyes to know that this was anything but an ordinary morning; if it was even morning to begin with.

She inhaled deeply, eyes moving behind eyelids and head heavy on the questionable-quality pillow of the unfamiliar bed she found herself in; a weight pressing down on her chest, keeping her locked in position, even the slightest of movement burning painfully through her muscles.

Where the fuck am I?

Cato only remembered flashes.

A car chase- no, she had been on a motorcycle- a stolen one, no less, racing through the streets of Northside in the middle of the night after yet another failed attempt to get help, trying to-

Trying to-

She groaned, memories from seemingly another lifetime flooding back into her mind and her chest painfully tightened, sudden fear overtaking her. Had they finally captured her, now? After everything she’d done- every precaution she had taken to get them off her trail, all the cut ties, all the words left unspoken-

Another deep inhale. It did not smell like a hospital, wherever she was; it did not smell like any of their medbays, or a Trauma Team ambulance, or any other corporate location for that matter. The vague smell of blood and sweat lingered around her, mixed with bleach, some sort of disinfectant-

It stung a bit.

Finally Cato opened her eyes, squinting against the bright light of some lamp pointed directly at her face. She slowly let her gaze trail the room- oh, yeah, a ripperdoc, alright- past cold concrete walls, a surgery chair, makeshift medical equipment and a cluttered desk in the corner on her far right, until she found two figures; one sitting on a stool, the other leaning against the wall.

She did not recognize either of the two men; that was, until the one standing took a few steps closer upon noticing she was awake. Her heartbeat instantly spiked and she jolted up- but her vision faded instantly and with that she sank back down onto the surgery bed she was-

Handcuffed to?

‘Standard procedure,’ the man said, gesturing at Cato’s wrist before running his hand through his short, bleached hair. ‘My apologies. It is always tricky to determine if a merc is going to resort to violence once awake or not.’

‘I’ll fuck you up,’ Cato spat before she could stop herself, her voice hoarse as it left her lips- words scraping past raw throat and it caused her to cough, the raspy noise echoing through the room.

‘I don’t doubt that for a second.’ A pause, as Vitali Dobrynin reached into his pocket and took out a key, then reached for Cato’s wrist and- respectfully keeping his hands to himself- freed her from her restraints.

‘Cato Wu,’ he said, grabbing a chair from the side of the room and setting it down next to the surgery bed while Cato slowly sat up a second time, carefully now, allowing the dizziness to settle before she moved any further.

‘How’d you know my name?’

‘I have my ways.’

‘Right- fixer.’

‘Do I sense contempt?’

Cato sucked in her cheeks and raised her hand, mockingly putting her thumb and the tip of her index finger a mere millimeter apart. ‘Thiiis much. Pinky promise.’

Perhaps not her wisest decision- mocking a fixer like that only inches away from his face. And not just any fixer, either; a new face on the big stage in town, sure, and not nearly as famous- or infamous- as Rogue Amendiares or Dexter DeShawn, but one making his way to the major leagues quicker than anyone ever before.

Of course Cato had heard of him. She had gone looking for him to ask for his help, for fuck’s sake.

She watched carefully as Vitali’s eyes trailed over her face, scanning every little detail- reading her, and she slightly straightened her back in response. No one said anything; and instead it was merely the sound of the heart monitor filling the space around them, Cato’s heartbeat once more steady now that she had calmed down.

‘You have quite some history, from what I could gather,’ the fixer finally spoke, slowly leaning back in his chair as the corner of his mouth slightly pulled up. ‘Active in security since age 17- and now on the run from Kang Tao, no less.’

‘Nothin’ I can’t handle.’

‘I’ve sent some of my people after the squads. They won’t find you here.’

‘Wasn’t concerned.’

‘Of course not.’

Unbothered by her attitude, playing along- yet playfully so, and Cato finally relaxed a little bit as the other man in the small ripperdoc clinic wheeled himself over as well, moving around her to carefully unplug the medical equipment from the port in her neck.

‘Take it easy the next couple days, alright?’ he said. ‘Hit your head pretty hard in the fall. Your helmet caught most of the impact and took most of the damage, but-’

His voice trailed off and Cato immediately glanced into the rest of the room again, her eyes finding- well, what remained of her motorcycle helmet, sitting on top of the desk in the corner.

‘You got lucky, kid.’

Wouldn’t be the first time.

A sharp exhale left her nostrils as she redirected her attention to Vitali, who had not taken his eyes off her for even a second; alert, still, perhaps waiting for her to do something now that she was no longer held down by the handcuffs and the cord in her neck. Their gazes met in the middle, and he leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees as he tilted his head in a questioning manner.

‘You were calling out for me, when my mercs found you,’ he said and Cato instantly lowered her gaze again, glad the monitor beside her no longer showed her heartbeat. ‘Said you needed to speak with me.’

‘I need protection,’ she cut him off, turning on the bed to let her feet dangle down and she placed her hands on either side of her body, shoved underneath her thighs.

‘I can work. Do gigs for you, provide security- hell, you’ve done your homework. Seen my resume. Whatever you need, can get started whenever, just- I don’t think I can stay ahead of ‘em for much longer.’

Oh, how she hated to admit it.

Had done fine for months- but she was tired, slipping up left and right, and Kang Tao had not given up on her just yet for whatever fucking reason and it was driving her up the walls. She had no idea if her old squad was still out there, if they were even still alive; and had no way to check it either, each and any attempt to reach out a risk for all parties involved.

‘Endurance hunting,’ Vitali said, a sudden sharp edge to his voice that had not been there before. ‘Running you to exhaustion- minimal effort for them over a longer period of time, while your whole life falls apart around you until there’s nothing left and you are right for the taking. They’re good at that.’

‘Sounds like you know what you’re talkin’ about.’

‘Better than you can probably imagine.’ He paused, jaw slightly clenching as he straightened his back. ‘It’s a good thing you decided to reach out. I think we can help each other.’

Not the first fixer Cato had spoken to- but the first to not tell her no. His words slowly settled in her brain and the look on her face must have told him enough, because he merely smiled in return and slowly stood up again.

‘Go home, for now,’ he said, the rings around his irises lighting up bright blue as a location in the north of Wellsprings popped up in Cato’s view. ‘Get some rest. Visit my office when you are feeling better, and we will get you relocated to a safehouse and discuss business, yes? Vik- You can put the costs on my tab.’

‘One step ahead of you, Vito.’

‘Full price, this time, I hope?’

‘Eh- returning customer discount.’

‘I’ll…allow it this time.’

Cato was no longer listening to them, a strange sense of relief washing over her to the point she suddenly noticed just how exhausted she was. All her muscles were sore- and even with the painkillers she had probably already gotten she could still feel the heavy thrumming in the back of her head, constantly threatening to move closer.

Months of uncertainty, of being alone; and it was all finally going to change, and hopefully for the better. Cato did not know much about how Vitali Dobrynin worked, but his surprisingly charming attitude and his treatment of both her and the old ripperdoc were already a lot more promising than what she had seen from many others before him.

Perhaps it would all be over now. Perhaps Kang Tao would finally give up, finally leave her alone, perhaps she would no longer have to be scared to get taken back in- to get tortured, and killed, if they would even show her that kind of mercy after everything that had happened.

Perhaps she could finally be safe, now.

Cato had not felt safe in months.

She could no longer tell where it had gone wrong. Too much time had passed, too many parties involved; and frankly, at that point it mattered very little who was to blame. She understood why Vitali also didn’t know what to do anymore- he was grasping at straws, but so was everyone else.

But now things were starting to get seriously out of hand.

Hurried pace through the hallway, combat gear on and gun holstered and at the ready. Another day, another tragedy; another citywide mercenary attack traced back to the Broker, yet the man himself once more stayed out of the spotlights like he always did.

Yet something was wrong about it all.

Prior incidents had all had a clear purpose; taking away their resources, exhausting them, rising tensions in town and in the Council and attempting to frame Vitali as the big bad behind it all. Weeks of planning, carefully thought out moves- like some fucked up, intricate game of chess.

Man, the fucking irony.

Yet this time it had come entirely out of nowhere.

And Matvey’s mercenaries merely seemed to be out for blood.

‘Hey-! Cato, wait.’

Cato had almost reached the elevators, but she stopped in her tracks and turned around, heart skipping a beat upon spotting the source of the voice behind her; Lauren, running after her and easily catching up only to drag her in for a hug, arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders and hand on the back of her head.

‘Forgot to say goodbye, was in a hurry,’ Cato sheepishly said, Lauren’s hand gently running through her hair and moving to her face to cup her cheek. ‘You on runner duty today?’

‘W-What? I- Yeah, I am, but-’

Lauren’s voice got caught in her throat and she looked up again, a worried frown decorating her brow as her eyes trailed over Cato’s face and her thumb softly ran over her lips.

Cato didn’t know what to say.

Her brain was stuck in work mode; it left very little space for any distractions, and as much as Cato loved her girlfriend she found herself completely at a loss for words, eyes briefly wandering off as she slightly leaned in to Lauren’s touch and took a hesitant step closer to her.

And in response, Lauren leaned down and kissed her, the scent of her cologne mixed with a hint of coconut from her shampoo wrapping around Cato like a warm blanket, as if the two of them were safely at home rather than in the hallway of Vitali’s office, preparing to make dinner together instead of preparing to put their lives on the line once more in an attempt to regain control of the situation out in the streets.

Cato stood on her tiptoes and kissed Lauren back, grabbing the edges of her jacket to tug her closer and she could feel the corners of Lauren’s mouth turn up into a small smile.

Oh, how she had missed the quiet moments with her; they’d had some time, between all the chaos, but with both of them focused on work and the constant threat hanging above their heads it had been difficult to fully find some time for themselves.

They had wanted to move in together at the start of the year.

Cato still lived alone, now.

‘Be careful out there, okay?’ Lauren quietly said, her lips brushing past the bridge of Cato’s nose before she kissed her forehead, lips lingering on her skin a lot longer than necessary.

‘I’m- so good at that,’ Cato replied and wrapped her arms around Lauren’s waist. ‘Powerhouse. Unkillable, even.’

‘Holding you to that.’

‘As you should! As you fuckin’ should.’

She smiled when a quiet giggle left Lauren’s chest and she hid her face in Cato’s neck, carefully wrapping her arms around her again and nearly lifting her from the ground.

‘You be careful in there, too,’ Cato hummed in her ear and gently ran her hand through her girlfriend’s curls. ‘Wanna come home to you, ‘kay? Alive.’

‘And you will, baby. Alive and well.’

And with that, they finally parted ways, Cato glancing over her shoulder one last time and smiling at Lauren before quickly stepping into the elevator and mashing the button of the garage until the doors closed- but she kept going just a little longer, even when the elevator was already on the move, as if the action would keep the tears welling up in her eyes from rolling down her cheeks.

Cato knew like no one else their jobs came with risks.

She had always been a risk taker- largely calculated decisions but with an uncertainty or two that would make most mercs reconsider their options. Cato was too confident for that; or too stubborn perhaps, if you’d ask her friends, but either way she knew what she was doing and she knew how to clean up her messes like no one else.

She sucked in a deep breath and glanced at herself in the mirror of the elevator, quickly grabbing a hair tie from her wrist to pull her black and pink hair into a tight ponytail to get it out of her face. The elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened- but she lingered inside just a little longer, expression blank and eyes fixed on her own reflection.

Hope I can get some sleep tonight. Looks like I fuckin’ need it.

The garage was surprisingly crowded, several squads getting ready to try and get a grip on the situation outside. Cato left the elevator and quickly pushed her way through the crowd to the other side, until she reached Mikhail, Eddie and Vincent, waiting for her next to one of their armored vehicles.

‘Everyone ready?’ she asked, hopping on her tiptoes and sinking back to her heels as she nodded at the car.

‘Almost,’ Mikhail responded and clicked his tongue, not moving away from his position against one of the pillars of the garage. ‘Waiting for one more.’

‘One more- seriously? Bit crowded for one car, don’t you think?’

‘Would you prefer for me to sit on the roof, then?’

The sudden voice from behind her caused Cato to freeze and Vitali walked around her, fastening the clip of his chest armor as he gave her a playful nudge with his elbow. A soft scoff left her lips in return and she quickly averted her gaze to the ground.

‘Alright, listen to me!’ Vitali shouted, causing silence to instantly wash over the room and everyone’s heads to turn in his direction.

‘We don’t know exactly what is going on, just got eyes on important locations they’re attacking,’ he continued. ‘Lauren is pinging you the hotspots, report back to her once everything is dealt with. Panam- I want you and your squad to follow us.’

‘Where to?’ Panam asked.

‘Afterlife. Rogue called.’

Well, that can’t be good.

Cato slowly wandered over to the passenger seat while everyone got on the move, head completely elsewhere. She did not know Rogue like Vitali did, or Vincent- but she knew her well enough to know she was not one to ask for help, more than capable enough to deal with situations such as this one herself.

‘It’s chaos out there,’ Eddie said as they climbed onto the backseat on the left side of the car, next to Vincent who was sat in the middle. ‘Bet they already got eyes on us.’

‘I do not doubt it.’ Vitali buckled his seatbelt and started the car, slightly adjusting the rearview mirror before starting to make his way outside the garage. ‘V- Are you alright?’

‘Yep,’ Vincent quickly answered, though Cato could hear how strained his voice was. ‘Peachy.’

Deafening silence washed over the car and Cato glanced in the side mirror to look at Mikhail, who merely stared straight out of the window with no readable expression on his face.

Trouble in paradise?

Not the right time to ask.

The sun already hung low on the horizon, leaving the city in warm orange and pink light; yet smoke lingered in the air from a nearby fire, rapidly threatening to get entirely out of control due to the heat and drought. Not an uncommon occurrence during Night City’s summers- despite the vastly different current circumstances- and Cato quickly took a mask out of the dashboard locker to cover her nose and mouth.

The streets were still busy, as they always were; though Vitali appeared unbothered by it as he swiftly maneuvered between all the other vehicles on the road, hands white-knuckled around the steering wheel.

He was stressed.

Of course he was- Cato was too, heartbeat like a drum in her chest and breathing shallow behind her mask. She let her gaze carefully trail their surroundings, looking for anything out of the ordinary-

Bingo.

Through the side mirror she could easily spot the heavily armored Arasaka SUVs closing in. Entirely out of place in the otherwise still relatively calm Wellsprings; and when someone leaned out of one of the windows, dressed in makeshift armor and holding some sort of customized assault rifle, Cato knew exactly who they were dealing with.

‘Behind us!’ she yelled over her shoulder and quickly reached for the control panel between herself and Vitali- grabbed the cord of the car’s systems while Eddie and Mikhail both opened their windows to lean out and shoot at their pursuers, and plugged it in the slot in her neck after a deep inhale.

She was never going to get used to it.

Vision going dark instantly, despite being wide awake and having her eyes open; it never failed to trigger her fight or flight response, body instinctively taking the sudden loss of vision as a direct attack, and nausea washed over her as she tightly gripped the edges of her seat to not lose her balance.

It settled quickly when her vision returned to her; though not in her own body but in a drone deployed from the underside of the car instead, and it slowly emerged from underneath as Cato gained control over its movement.

Mostly intuitive, but disorienting- Cato had done it enough times to no longer randomly lose control of the drone because of concentration loss, but it had happened one too many times in the past. Too worried about her surroundings, worried about getting killed, or getting disconnected too early; or she would think too hard about how to steer the drone, actions that would otherwise come naturally to her in her own body.

She relaxed in her chair as the drone flew up into the air and circled above their car, to assess the situation down below; three cars in pursuit, one of them trailing behind a little as it appeared to be in combat with Panam’s squad.

But the other two were closing in quickly, switching lanes to try and flank the car on either side. Cato dove down with the drone, her hands intuitively moving up as she readied the two small SMGs installed in the bot- and without wasting any time she began firing, quickly maneuvering around the side of the car so she could get a clear shot on the tires.

One of the mercs took notice of her and fired at the drone, knocking it out of its course. Cato hissed a quiet fuck and readjusted its alignment, instinctively leaning to the side in her seat as well as if that would help. She took another sharp turn with the drone and positioned it in front of the car instead- and shattered the windscreen with ease, hitting the driver in the shoulder and chest several times and causing them to lose control of the wheel.

The car rammed into the guardrail, causing Vitali to be forced to hit the brakes and swerve around it. An involuntary yelp left Cato’s lips as she nearly lost her balance, despite being sat down- hands desperately reaching around to find any support until Vitali suddenly grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze, pulling it closer to the wheel so he could keep driving.

The drone had lingered behind a bit in the brief moment of panic and Cato quickly turned it around to get it back within shooting range. The second car was still close; now positioned slightly ahead of them on the driver’s side, and Eddie was attempting to get one of the tires to pop.

Cato activated the boosters on the underside of the drone to speed it up and dove down once more, positioning it underneath the Arasaka SUV. She carefully deployed an explosive and stuck it right between the two front tires- then slowed down and steered the drone back to their own car.

‘Turn right!’ she yelled, and the second she felt the motion of the car switching direction- and saw it happen through the camera attached to the drone- she detonated the explosive, causing the SUV to get blasted from the road and catch fire mid-air before landing on its side.

‘Preem work, Cato,’ Lauren’s voice suddenly popped up in Cato’s earpiece. ‘Taking control of the drone now- you can disconnect.’

‘Thanks, baby,’ Cato replied and quickly let go of Vitali’s hand again to disconnect the cord; she had to blink a few times to regain control of her vision, Kiroshis briefly struggling to focus on what was in front of her.

‘More of ‘em closing in as we speak,’ Lauren continued, and Cato rolled down her window to be able to lean out of it as well. ‘Four vehicles approaching from the east. Cato, Mish- get ready.’

She had not even finished her sentence when the vehicles in question skidded around the corner on Cato’s side of the car, one of them cutting the curb and nearly ramming into a food stand as the driver struggled to stay in control of the wheel. Cato drew her gun and charged up a power shot- released the trigger and the bolt of energy hit the front car right above the grill, sparks flying off the point of impact as the hood of the car flew open and obscured the windshield.

She charged up another shot as she let Mikhail deal with the now vulnerable and exposed car, a small smirk taking shape on her face when dark smoke followed by flames-

Followed by an explosion that knocked her back into her seat, seatbelt cutting into her skin and flesh and head forcefully snapping back causing a cry of pain to leave her lips. She released the trigger of her gun and the projectile got freely launched into the air, managing to hit one of the other cars’ side mirrors on its path.

‘Blyat- They’re flanking us!’ Vitali yelled from beside her and suddenly Cato’s gun was no longer in her hand, taken by the fixer as he leaned out of his own window to assist Eddie in taking down their pursuers. Cato cursed and grabbed the wheel, only just able to get the car back in its own lane- then cursed again when the cars in front of them slowed down for a traffic light and she swerved around them onto the lane on their right, grabbing the back of Vitali’s chest armor to make sure he wouldn’t fall out of the window.

‘This is a horrible fucking idea, boss!’ Cato screamed, wincing as the car rammed into a line of traffic cones, each of them flying over the windshield and landing somewhere behind them scattered all over the road. She took a sharp turn right, only vaguely remembering the route to the Afterlife- but with that cut off one of the other vehicles and it rammed their backside, causing the car to skid around and come to a full stop in the middle of the intersection.

‘Putting ‘er in reverse, hold on!’ Cato yelled and yanked on the steering wheel, slapping Vitali’s knee to make him put all his weight on the gas. Her eyes rapidly scanned the control panel again and she mashed some buttons- until she found the one that added an additional layer of bulletproof glass over the windshield.

She turned around on her seat, holding out her free hand to Vincent to pull him in; he quickly climbed over her and joined her in the passenger seat, leaning out of the window to shoot at the cars now all positioned right in front of them while Cato kept an eye on the road through the back window.

‘What the fuck are you guys doing?’ Lauren asked, genuine confusion audible in her voice.

‘Don’t even worry about it,’ Vitali replied, sitting back down in his seat to reload and wincing when some gunfire hit the side mirror and with that nearly his shoulder. ‘Cato is a fantastic driver.’

‘Cato would love to be in the fucking driver’s seat for that next time round!’ Cato roared in response, reaching over to drag both Eddie and Mikhail back into the car one by one before reaching back to grab Vincent by the arm and give the steering wheel another spin with all the strength left in her body, to position the car back in a forward position on the road.

Vitali hit the gas again and Cato reached up to adjust the rearview mirror, a sharp exhale leaving her body when she noticed two cars still in pursuit. Panam’s squad was no longer on sight- probably took another turn somewhere, to deal with more mercs, or to make use of a shortcut.

‘We have to get across bridge,’ Vitali said, nodding to the road up ahead. ‘Get back on highway and turn left- we get rid of them there.’

‘Yessir,’ Cato said, slightly relaxing against Vincent’s body. ‘Heads up, they’re closin’ in.’

Not her first car chase, by far- but Cato hated all of them, and for good reasons. Her breathing was shallow behind the mask, hairs on her arms standing up straight as she took the turn onto the highway, toward the bridge; a wide open space, both an advantage and a disadvantage at the same time.

Vitali accelerated and Cato repositioned herself on her seat, readying herself to maneuver between the vehicles up ahead. Eddie, Mikhail and Vincent leaned out of their windows again, opening fire on the Arasaka SUVs in pursuit; but Vitali seemed to be waiting for something, eyes carefully scanning the road before slowly but surely leaning out of his seat, aiming his gun at something ahead of them.

Cato instantly realized what he was going to do.

‘Is that a good idea?’ she asked, raising her voice a little to be audible over the gunfire as she steered around a few cars.

‘No,’ Vitali replied, ‘but when have I had any good ideas lately?’

And with that, he opened fire on the tires of an NCPD vehicle driving diagonally in front of them, effectively causing the driver to lose control of the wheel. Cato clenched her jaw and moved in, cutting the car off and causing them to swerve to the side- and both Arasaka SUVs rammed right into it, causing it to flip on its side and come to a stop in the middle of the road.

‘Easy,’ Vitali said, sitting back down and taking the wheel from Cato again. His voice was a few octaves higher than usual.

‘Well, that takes care of that,’ Lauren said. ‘Cut their communication, no backup en route currently. Dunno how long I can hold them off, though.’

‘Just do what you can,’ Vitali replied. ‘We will be arriving shortly anyway- NCPD would be stupid to try and enter Afterlife.’

‘They could send MaxTac.’

‘For the sake of this conversation, let’s pretend they don’t exist.’

Everyone remained quiet for the rest of the car ride. Vincent crawled back onto the backseat and Cato closed her window again, heartbeat settling down only a little bit as she took her gun back from Vitali and put the safety back on. She was waiting, still- waiting for more of them to show, or waiting for Lauren to warn for incoming backup-

But much to her relief, nothing else happened.

The silences after combat were always the worst to her.

Cato’s brain often needed a moment to catch up, body still alert and ready to jump back into the fight if necessary- but in those quiet moments it would often all come crashing down on her, realization kicking in to the point she would be more aware of the pain in her body and the taste of blood in her mouth than she would be of her own heartbeat.

She relaxed in her seat, eyes carefully trailing the roads surrounding them as Vitali continued their way to the club. It was getting darker and darker; street lights turning on around them and the neon lights and signs of Watson turned the streets into colorful hazes of distractions, marking the beginning of the city’s nightly life.

The entrance of the Afterlife was a mess.

Cato hopped out of the car before Vitali could even bring it to a full stop and she readied her weapon again while carefully scanning the parking lot. Cars stood scattered everywhere- two of them merely a chassis and still smoldering, dark smoke lingering in the stuffy evening air and obscuring her view.

She stayed low to the ground, biting the inside of her cheek as she stepped over a couple of bodies- no idea who they belonged to- until she reached the front entrance of the place that once used to be a morgue; and by the looks of it was now reduced to that very same earlier functionality.

Another car arrived at the scene and Cato instantly turned, raising her gun- but noticed Mikhail raising his hand at her from the corner of her eye and waited, realizing soon enough the car belonged to them and was simply Panam and her squad.

‘Mikhail, stay out here with Panam,’ Vitali said, the usual strictness to his voice Cato was used to; though she could hear his exhaustion, the slightly pleading undertone seeping through his words, as if he was no longer sure whether or not his authority was still in place.

‘V, on me!’ she immediately said, raising her voice a little as she pulled her mask off her face. ‘Eddie, stick with the boss, take the back entrance. We’ll meet in the middle.’

‘Copy that. Lauren, you got a visual?’

‘Nix plugged the whole network, you’re on your own from here. Bet Matvey’s runner is tryna poke some holes- I’m stayin’ out of that.’

Cato’s gaze met Vitali’s-

And for a brief moment she could barely recognize him.

The sudden defeated look in his eyes, a stark contrast with only minutes ago when they had been back on the road; demeanor similar to that of a kicked puppy and the gratitude and relief spilling from the expression on his face suddenly made her realize how vulnerable her friend was.

He had always been different from other fixers to her.

Had been the first one to open his doors to her, let her in- and he had offered her a safehouse, protection, things he did not have to do yet did anyway from the kindness of his heart.

‘We’ll figure this out,’ Cato said, loud enough for everyone on the parking lot to hear- yet she was talking to one person directly, eyes still fixed on his face as she spoke and he gave her a weak nod in response, rapidly blinking a couple times before looking away and following Eddie around the building.

Cato inhaled deeply, taking a moment to regain her composure as she pulled herself out of her head and turned to Vincent, who gave her an affirming nod in return. The two of them quickly entered the building through the main entrance, already able to hear gunfire coming from within while descending down the stairs. Security turrets snapped into their direction the moment they turned the corner- but did not fire upon seeing who was entering, and they both did a quick wave at one of the security cameras before quickly running inside.

The interior of the Afterlife was similar to its current exterior, bodies and debris scattered around- some sort of explosion, perhaps- and several tables had been overturned, used by mercs and clients as cover in what appeared to be the final moments of a gunfight.

Cato made a run for the bar and jumped over it with ease, taking cover behind it as she carefully assessed the situation; she recognized some of the mercs as Rogue’s and could easily tell the remainder of the Broker’s mercs apart from everyone else- makeshift armor, cobbled together from what they had been able to find at the abandoned Arasaka facility as well as their own supplies.

She steadied herself on the countertop and fired a few shots in their direction, most of them bouncing off the wood and metal of the tables and chairs- but it did what she was hoping for, getting the mercs agitated enough to attempt to fire back and with that exposing themselves to the lines of fire of everyone else in the club, soon enough leaving the ringing in Cato’s ears as the only noise filling the space around her.

‘Everyone still in one piece?’ Rogue’s voice echoed from the other side of the club. Cato slowly stood up and quickly glanced around until she found Vincent- not too far away from her, giving her a thumbs up the second she looked in his direction.

More gunshots sounded from the hallways further into the building. Cato turned and finally noticed Rogue- emerging from behind a pillar, hair tied back to keep it out of her face and some blood splattered across her cheek and jaw- and watched her march into the direction of one of the doors, only for it to bust open before she could reach it.

Vitali tumbled inside, two mercs attacking him at once and one of them attempting to slit his throat; Cato instantly lunged forward over the bar to close the distance between herself and the scuffle on the floor, but before she could do anything Rogue pulled out a gun and fired- two rapid, loud gunshots, two dead bodies, and Vitali yelped as he pushed them both off himself and scrambled back to his feet as fast as he could.

‘We clear?’ Rogue asked, glancing up when Eddie too entered through the door, and Vitali quickly nodded in response as he straightened his back and pushed back his shoulders while rapidly scanning the room- found Vincent and Cato, and he visibly relaxed again.

Thought Matvey didn’t want Vitali dead?

‘Nix says there’s more on the way,’ Rogue continued, speaking loud enough for everyone inside to hear as she took a few steps back to look around. ‘Including MaxTac. Which I can only describe as an unpleasant fucking surprise.’

‘Probably best if we delta,’ Vincent immediately said, hints of a grimace on his face as he shared a nervous look with Cato. ‘Let them- you know. Fight it out.’

‘Where to?’

‘Whe- Uh. Boss?’

‘Safehouse.’ Vitali paused to lick his lips. ‘Rancho Coronado, should be abandoned. Enough space for all of us, for now. Regroup there?’

‘Preem, lead the way. And, hey- you owe me an explanation, Dobrynin.’

‘Let’s get out of here alive first, yes?’

There was not much to explain, from Cato’s point of view. They hadn’t figured out what was going on still- did not know what Matvey was trying to achieve with any of this, and frankly, it had gotten to the point where trying to find an ulterior motive was more pointless than attempting to make sense out of his weird revenge fantasy in the first place.

She lingered behind a little with Vitali while everyone began making their way back outside, eyes once more trailing the interior of what remained of the Afterlife. It wouldn’t be the first time a gunfight had taken place inside- though she doubted it had ever gotten that bad before, and already feared for the consequences the Council would decide on were they to catch wind of all this.

Problem for later. Got more pressing matters at hand.

Reinforcements had shown up outside in the meantime and Cato instantly snapped back to reality, following Eddie and Vincent around the burnt out car chassis to put more distance between themselves and their enemies. She crouched down, moving around the both of them to get to Panam- kneeled next to one of their other mercs, bleeding from their shoulder.

‘Wound’s superficial!’ Panam yelled over the noises around them. ‘But we gotta get ‘em out of this heat!’

Cato glanced over the concrete road barrier they were sat behind; several vehicles blocked the only road out of the parking lot, and there was no way of safely getting past them without having to abandon their own cars in the process.

She turned back- eyes frantically scanning both Panam and the other merc until they landed on two grenades attached to their belt. She snatched them off and hopped over the barrier, trailing along the side of the parking lot to stay out of sight as she slowly moved closer to get a better angle.

And once she was close enough, she pulled the pins out of both grenades without hesitating and hurled them at the cars of the Broker’s mercs, covering her ears and withdrawing herself back behind the corner of the wall as the double explosion rattled her bones and caused the ground below her feet to shake.

She stayed in her position, waiting until her heartbeat had settled down; waiting for the pained screams and cries to die down, waiting for the gunfire to end, waiting for her nose to become used to the smell of burnt flesh- or for her brain to successfully convince her someone was simply throwing a barbecue just around the block, and there was nothing else to worry about.

‘Everyone, move out!’ Rogue yelled when Cato finally lowered her hands- and a humming noise somewhere above them instantly caught her attention, a sudden breeze picking up, and she turned her head to sky to-

Another explosion blasted her straight off her feet and she fell backwards, back hitting the wall and everything momentarily went black before she was suddenly face down on the ground. She tried to push herself back up on her elbows, grunting as the muscles on the left side of her body painfully protested-

And with that she was yanked back on her feet though not in the friendly manner she had been hoping for and a heavily armored figure appeared in her view, holding a heavy handgun firmly pressed against her forehead.

MaxTac.

But Cato was fast.

Smacked the weapon aside before they could pull the trigger on her and forcefully grabbed the helmet to yank it off their head, spinning 360 degrees before slamming it into the MaxTac agent’s face at full speed. Her arms were grabbed from behind and she was pulled back, one hand reaching up to grab a handful of her hair and drag her along, away from her friends-

But then she was on the ground again, a large boot kicking her in the face and her vision faded away once more for a couple of seconds. She blinked, coughing and wincing in pain as she noticed a tall figure hovering over her and they grabbed her hand to pull her back up on her feet.

‘Hey- Get up. Can’t have you dying on me now.’

Mikhail’s voice was soft, yet somehow the only thing Cato could hear as she suddenly struggled to realize where exactly she was; as if the two of them had been sent years back in time, back to when they used to work together- before Cato ran off with Kang Tao and Mikhail went to work for Arasaka instead-

Still difficult to believe, sometimes, that he had been part of the reason Kang Tao had started to hunt her and her squad down.

‘Wasn’t planning to,’ Cato quietly replied and gave him a small smile in return, allowing her friend to ruffle her hair before they both crossed the parking lot to get around the now empty MaxTac aircraft back to the car.

Let’s get the fuck out of here.

‘Get a medkit!’

‘Alright, sit down, careful-’

‘Misha? Catch.’

‘Someone bring me some towels!’

Vitali slowly followed the others inside the abandoned house in southern Rancho Coronado, lingering behind just a little longer as his gaze moved over the empty streets one final time. In the clear, for now- yet he remained alert, gun still in his slightly shaking hand as he dragged himself through the entrance hall and the living room to the other side of the house to sit down on a stool in the kitchen next to the large glass door leading to the backyard.

His leg and forearm were burning.

He’d forgotten to take any painkillers before departure.

The merc’s injuries were superficial and nothing Mikhail could not fix; just another day at work and one of the risks of their line of work. But the panicked sounds surrounding him, of his friends running around looking for more supplies, Panam nearly running right into him on her way to grab more towels, people getting weapons ready and sharing ammo with each other while preparing for yet another thorough perimeter check-

Vitali’s eyes fluttered shut.

And for a brief moment, it was entirely quiet around him.

The black void swallowing him whole was comforting, in a way; a cool patch of shade on a scorching hot summer day, a gentle breeze on a balcony overlooking the ocean, a wild river dragging him down by his feet until his entire body was submerged.

He often found himself standing there, in the dark- wondering. Wondering when it would end, when he would regain control again; wondering what else was left there for him; wondering what else he could say, if a half-assed apology would be enough to save him this time.

And all he would get in response was silence.

Strange, how that worked- to crave something he feared so deeply at the same time, to want something he knew he could not have without losing himself in the process.

And with that, the noise returned to him, panicked screams and cries and sobs and the feeling of hands grabbing his wrists and tearing at his clothes and clawing at his face, nails and teeth drawing blood, like hungry wolves feeding on a deer’s carcass-

He knew what dying felt like.

‘Hey.’

V’s voice had always been strangely soothing to him. Like a gentle kiss on a bruise- a voice that could cause his heartbeat to settle down even in the most stressful of moments.

But Vitali could not open his eyes.

Could not bear to look at him- what would he even say? After everything that had happened and everything that was happening around them now; he would only end up digging himself deeper into that hole, as stubborn as he was, unable to accept his defeat.

A quiet sigh left his lips when V gently cupped his cheeks, thumbs running over his skin as he gently tilted his head a little to the side.

‘You’re bleeding,’ he quietly said, and Vitali finally allowed himself to open his eyes, watching worry spilling from the expression on the merc’s face as he carefully moved his fingers to just behind Vitali’s ear.

‘It’s nothing serious,’ Vitali merely responded, holstering his gun and reaching up to push V’s hand away, but V dodged him and instead tried to tilt his head further.

‘I said-’

‘I heard you. Let me take a look.’

‘V-’

‘Vincent.’

A short pause, and Vitali sucked in a shallow breath.

‘Please.’

Vincent.

Vitali held his breath, heart skipping a beat as a weirdly comforting fog in his head blocked everything else out and caused him to only see what was right in front of him. He slowly scanned V’s face as his head was once more tilted to the side- no sign of sarcasm, no sign of discomfort, or hesitance.

Their gazes met; and V shot him a small, encouraging smile, lower lip trembling slightly as he did.

And with that, Vitali finally allowed Vincent to assess the damage, a wave of relief washing over him as he closed his eyes again and briefly pressed his lips against the bloodied palm of his boyfriend’s hand.

The carnage at the Afterlife had taken its toll on him, a lot more than he had initially expected. Something had caused the harsh reality of it all to fully kick in there- and they had learned nothing, other than the fact that apparently Matvey’s mercs were now taking a completely different approach.

Vitali involuntarily clenched his jaw and sucked in a deep breath, the memory of the two heavy bodies on top of him creeping back into his mind- the knife that had only been inches away from his throat- Ravager’s hands wrapped tightly around his neck-

‘Is anyone here gonna tell me what the fuck’s going on?’

Rogue had walked over to the two of them and stopped right next to Vitali the moment he looked up again, hands on her hips and a mostly unreadable expression on her face- though he did not need to ask to know she was fucking furious.

‘Genuinely wish I could,’ he answered, flinching lightly when Vincent dabbed the wound behind his ear with a wet towel. ‘Attack came out of nowhere, I don’t think any of it was planned. No pattern, no motive- they tried to kill me, as you saw. That’s new.’

‘So your- the Broker is changing their strategy?’

Vitali clenched his jaw again, but did not answer.

He didn’t know what his father was attempting to achieve with any of this. It made no sense- had their last encounter finally caused him to stop fucking around, to stop wasting time? Had this been part of his plan all along?

Vitali swallowed heavily and pushed the thought out of his head. Anything was possible at that point, but he decided to choose to believe his father had better backup plans at hand. Whatever had happened, whatever it was that had changed- there had to be a logical explanation to it all.

‘Just gotta figure out where they’re stayin’, then we can get this over with,’ Vincent quietly said, glancing in Rogue’s direction before looking back at Vitali. ‘Whatever happens, happens.’

He was right.

Vitali closed his eyes again and inhaled deeply, a strange knot settling deep within his stomach as he realized what that meant. Whatever happens, happens- no way around it anymore this time, nothing else left to do or say. No more grasping at straws; nothing left within his reach.

All he had wanted for himself, was a happy ending.

Selfish, in hindsight, to wish that for himself after getting so many other people caught up in the crossfire. Stupid of him to think that his father would stop, naive of him to think that he could get his family back after everything that had happened between them, after all their years apart.

Vincent cupped his cheeks with both hands and left a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth- I know, baby, I know- and it only then dawned on Vitali a tear had escaped his eye and was steadily rolling down his cheek, Vincent’s thumb softly running over his skin to wipe it away.

Oh, how Vitali had hoped it wouldn’t have had to get to this.

He opened his eyes again and slowly let his gaze trail through the room. Most people had sat themselves down in the living room, everyone a bit calmer now that the mercenary’s injury was being looked after by Mikhail and weapons had been reloaded. Rogue slowly wandered away again too, redoing her ponytail while quietly mumbling to herself- just too quiet for him to hear what she said.

‘Boss-? Someone’s approaching the house!’

Vitali’s head snapped up toward the front door, a rush of adrenaline instantly waking him up again. He grabbed the gun in his holster, dragging himself from the stool and pushing past Vincent to get to Cato, who had called out for him. She briefly glanced over her shoulder, then readied her own weapon and kicked open the door, both of them stepping outside and aiming at-

‘Wait, wait, wait- Don’t shoot!’

Dusty?

Vitali froze.

It was unmistakably his ex mercenary, hands up in the air while he stumbled back a few steps, wide eyes focused on the guns pointed at his head. Vitali instantly lowered his own- and so did Cato, though she also walked closer without hesitation and used the butt of her weapon to smack Dusty in the head- hard.

‘You fucking cunt of a traitor!’ she yelled, stuffing her gun in her holster while grabbing one of his arms and forcefully twisting it behind his back.

‘Cato-’ Vitali said and raised his hand, but other than that did nothing to stop her and just stood motionless to the ground while Dusty sputtered and cried out in pain as Cato dragged him off the street, closer to the house.

‘You got some serious balls showin’ your ugly face here after everything!’ she snarled, pushing Dusty into the outer wall of the house and aiming her gun at him again. ‘I should shoot you where you stand!’

Vitali’s brain struggled to catch up.

He walked a little further into the street, eyes carefully scanning each and every corner; it was too dark for him to be able to see very far but everything seemed clear from where he stood, the only movement he could see coming from the corner of his eye, some of the others emerging from the house to see what was going on.

‘Check the perimeter,’ he heard Rogue say, and turned around again just in time to see a few mercs scatter and vanish into the dark, weapons at the ready- and then he realized everyone who was still there was staring directly at him, even Cato, a questioning look on her face and her gun pointed directly at a still whimpering Dusty, her hand slightly swaying from side to side.

‘Why are you here?’ he asked, slightly raising his voice as he walked back and straightened his back, regaining his composure within mere milliseconds. ‘No fucking around- give me something to work with or I’ll let Cato do whatever she wants.’

‘Sanders is dead,’ Dusty promptly replied, and he dropped his arms past his body, carefully lifting his head from the wall. ‘Your old man killed him. His mercs are out of fuckin’ control- out for your blood, they don’t care about no contract anymore.’

Oh.

Vitali stopped in his tracks, mouth half open as the words got caught in his throat and he exchanged a look with Cato as a sudden location in Charter Hill popped up in the corner of his vision.

‘They locked him up,’ Dusty continued, his voice low. ‘Usin’ every little bit of the supplies he keeps in that building to burn this entire city to a fuckin’ crisp- and they’re not gonna stop any time soon by the looks of it.’

Dead silence fell over the dark street.

Well, as silent as it could be.

If you listened closely you could hear it in the distance- vaguely audible over the light breeze and some distant music- the noises of what was going on downtown, sirens howling through the night sky and heavy gunfire rattling through the streets, not uncommon at all but far heavier than it usually was.

Vitali felt light-headed.

Unsure what to think of it all- unsure if he could even trust Dusty’s word- but the sheer panic and fear in the merc’s eyes said enough and he bit the inside of his cheek, heart beating heavily inside his chest.

They locked him up.

This is not his doing.

He promptly walked back inside, past all his mercs, past Rogue- avoiding eye contact with each and every single one of them as he ran up the stairs as fast as he could to reach the safehouse’s weapon storage. His heart was once again racing in his chest, ramming itself into his ribcage as the pain in both his leg and forearm flared up again.

Painkillers can wait.

The small closet wasn’t nearly as impressive as back at home or at his office, but Vitali didn’t care. It was enough to stock up on ammo- and all he was looking for anyway was the box of explosives, tucked away in the far right corner and hidden behind some shotguns.

Nothing too powerful, of course- there was no need to level the whole thing to the ground, no need to potentially harm innocent people in the somewhat impulsive act of destruction he was carefully planning out in his head. Merely enough to get rid of what was inside; wipe out the threat and get rid of every and any tool used by the mercs to keep their citywide onslaught going.

He closed the door of the storage closet with his hip and nearly walked right into Vincent and Rogue, the both of them having followed him upstairs and giving him a puzzled look before glancing down at the box in his arms, realization kicking in for the both of them at once upon seeing the explosives and the dangerous shimmer in his eyes.

‘Get everyone together,’ Vitali said, and the corner of his mouth pulled up into a small smile.

‘Let’s go blow up a building.’

[white-weasel]

Seeing everyone praise an author in the comments of a TikTok and I’m wondering if I just read one of her duds or if I just didn’t “get it”

[arthur-r]

as usual i am up late into the night planning my future when i should be: getting a good nights sleep so that i even have a future!!