#x: there is no peace here; war is never cheap dear (vitaly.)

[paramounticebound]

Final tag drop. 

If you want a personal your muse x khan tag, regardless of the relationship, let me know and I’ll add it to this post. c:

Now imagine if I cleaned up my pages too. Lmao.

#tag drop for ts #x: I'm rage and ruin before you and without (lenny and khan.) #x: stay with me; please don't go (rey and khan.) #x: you have earned this repercussion; this reward; the reckoning (vanya and khan.) #x: hydrogen in our veins it cannot hold itself our blood is boiling (fleur and khan.) #x: i do not tolerate a world emptied of you (rwby and khan.) #x: and it's the wonders I'm after even if I have to bleed for them (polly and khan.) #x: her battle cry is a hook and it catches me in the throat (kara and khan.) #x: i want to fall and never once look back (melody and khan.) #x: and it's the wonders i'm after; even if I have to bleed for them (adam and khan.) #x: if he closed his eyes he could dwell in the circuit of air that had once held her (anne and khan.) #x: things which are gone in the morning: darkness. grief. the moon. dreams. you. (echo and khan.) #x: there is no peace here; war is never cheap dear (vitaly.) #x: with an orchid in her hand and a shadow on her thumb (kaina singh.) #x: one by one she slew her fears and then planted a flower garden over their graves (sarina kaur.)

[paramounticebound]

send me a number from 1-100 for a starter based on that song, or a lyric from it, or send a 🎁 for me to shuffle || @vuulpecula​ / Alexei: 🎁 || accepting. ||

→ Setting Sun by Miracle of Sound

When he was a child, he’d found a box of films from America. He’d escape his father’s wrath and his mother’s apathy as often as possible, holed up in the complex’s basement with the box and a faulty projector. While he couldn’t understand a word for the longest time, the Westerns quickly became his favourites. Vitaly would watch the same ones for hours, mesmerized by the guns, by the lawlessness, by the violence. Fighting shadows with finger-guns in the basement was how he’d pass those dreary, dangerous days. 

Yet like all things, childhood innocence-- whatever remained-- wilted away before it could bloom properly, a husk of dead man left in its wake. He’d always followed Alexei, from the very beginning, from the first day. Meant to act as a right hand as if it were in his blood. He hadn’t minded. Never had, not when he’d helped saw Nikolay into pieces, not when Alexei directed him on the disposal of his mother’s fetid corpse. Not when when countless men wound up under Alexei’s ire, not when he’d been the one to take care of the problems with a trigger or a baseball bat. 

Lately, there was something in the air. A change that even he could feel, a sense unperturbed from the bottom of a bottle of vodka. Vitaly couldn’t place it and he knew better than to go searching. There was a pang of nostalgia, the brief memory of one of his Westerns as he sucked on a cigarette, watching the snow fall. No more cowboys, only men with violent hearts. 

Loyalty was a pistol.

     “Brother,” he greeted Alexei, sauntering into the other’s office, offering that crooked smile, “I want to talk to you about my son.”

#vuulpecula #okay so this song about my son arthur ofc but BUT #there's that sense of dangerous loyalty that exists between vitaly and alexei too #and i can't help but think vitaly's destruction is ultimately that loyalty #also being a heap of flaming garbage and a terrible father too but hey #x: there is no peace here; war is never cheap dear (vitaly.) #x: YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME SLEEP (queue.) #tw violence #tw murder #tw alcohol