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chickensarentcheap · 10 months

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Lost and Found -Chapter 16

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. Although you do not need to read the others to understand this one)

Warnings: profanity, mention of child death, some gun violence

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @munstysmind @thesirenrealm @ninjasawakenedmystar @karimac @arrthurpendragon @asirensrage @kmc1989 @timbradfordsboot @ocappreciationtag @residentdormouse @starryeyes2000 @occommunity

My tag list is OPEN. Please let me know if you want to be added :)

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/121817353

*****

Nik is already awake when he emerges from the bedroom; clad in a sleek pair of gray dress pants, a baby blue button-down, and simple black heels as she sits on the couch with her laptop on her thighs. And there’s a bemused smirk playing on her lips as she eyes him from head to toe; taking in the unruly hair and the bare feet and the same clothes from the day before.

“Morning.”

Tyler merely nods and grumbles the same in response.

“Already staying the night, I see. That was fast.”

“Didn’t see a reason to wait. It’s already been five years. Why waste even another five minutes?” Heading for the coffee bar across the room, he briefly eyes the trays of fresh fruit, breakfast pastries, and the carafes of tea and coffee. He chooses the latter; filling one of the available mugs to the brim. The first sip hits perfectly; the brew rich and flavourful. And incredibly strong.

Snapping her laptop closed, Nik places it on the coffee table and reaches for her empty tea cup. “That shouldn’t surprise me. The two of you never did believe in taking your time.”

“If this is some kind of critique about how I handle things in my personal life, I’m not interested.”

“Merely an observation. And some lighthearted teasing. A way to get a conversation going.”

“I’m not into small talk. And I’ve never been a morning person, so…”

“I was hoping you could attempt to be. Just this once. Besides, I’m not interested in small talk.”

Perching upon the arm of the love seat, he stretches his legs out in front of him; one ankle crossed over the other as he lifts the mug of coffee to his lips. “What ARE you interested in?”

“You wanted to talk. Let’s talk. While we have the chance.”

“Not with Esme and Millie close by. They don’t need to hear what I have to say. Millie doesn’t even know yet that I’m her dad. And losing my shit on you isn’t how I want her to find out.”

“They’re both asleep. And they probably will be for a while. I think we’re capable of keeping our voices down, don’t you? Of behaving like rational, civilized adults.”

“Believe me, Nik, when it comes to this? I’m feeling far from rational and civilized.”

She sighs as she stands, then moves to the coffee bar; pouring herself another drink and adding two wedges of lemon before turning to face him. “I don’t want to fight, Tyler.”

“How do you expect me to feel? About everything that’s come to light over the past thirty-six hours. You expect me NOT to be upset? You fucked up, Nik. Big time. And you don’t get a say in how I feel.”

“I know you’re angry. Hurt. I know you feel betrayed. And…”

“I trusted you. I came to you; when Esme took off. You knew it destroyed me. Losing her. You knew what a mess I was; how close I got to going back to the drinking and the pain meds.”

“You have every right to feel the things you do, Tyler. I’m not going to argue with you about that. And I’m NOT going to try and take them away from you. But…”

“I called you. Every time I was close to putting a gun in my mouth and pulling the trigger. And you always talked me down; going on and on about how much you were helping and all the people you had on the ground and how they were turning over every stone looking for her.”

“I was there for you,” she reminds him. “At the drop of a dime. I never turned you away. I never ignored you. I never let you fight your battles alone. How many times did I just show up? On your doorstep? Because I was so worried about what you might do to yourself?”

“Yeah, you’re a regular fucking martyr, Nik.”

“I was a good friend to you. I made sure you were okay. That you were taking care of yourself. That you weren’t drinking and you weren’t back on the meds. I…”

“You were lying to me the entire time. You were never helping. You never had people looking for Esme. You just told me what I wanted to hear. You just kept filling me with all kinds of hope; that you’d find her and you’d let me know where she was and I would go and get her back. And it was nothing but bullshit.”

“I didn’t want you to give up. Not on her. And especially not on yourself. You didn’t give up after Dhaka. You were clinically dead. But you fought your way back. Did you really think I’d let that happen? Because Esme left? After everything you went through after Bangladesh…”

“She was the only reason I fought my way back. She was the first person in a long time that never looked at me like I was some piece of shit. That actually gave a fuck about me. That made me feel like a human being again. She was the ONLY reason I hung in there.”

“She loved you even then. Even that soon after meeting you. And I think…if you’re completely honest with yourself…you loved her too.”

“I don’t know if it was love. If it can even happen that quickly. But it was SOMETHING. That I’d never felt before. She was different. She gave me a chance. Felt I was actually deserving of one. I don’t know what I would have done; if she hadn’t stuck around after the job.”

“You would have gone on with your life. It would have hurt. For a long time. But you would have gone on and…”

Tyler scowls. “Don’t downplay it. The things I felt for her. In Dhaka. Don’t do that. Don’t make light of it. Of HER.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. I’d never…”

“You know how close I was? When she showed up that day? To just ending it all? Or hoping someone would end it for me? I’d reached my limit. I didn’t give a shit. About anything. And then I met her and everything changed. I changed. So don’t stand there and act like she wasn’t…isn’t…the best thing to ever happen to me. She saved me, Nik. In every way a person can be saved.”

“You were lucky. That she came along and gave you all of that. That I…”

“What? You want to be thanked? For bringing her to my doorstep? You think I should be on my hands and knees? Vowing lifelong servitude to you?”

“I never…”

“I don’t know what I would have done; if I’d come out of that coma and found out she was dead. Or that she’d just taken off. But she WAS there. And sometimes I wonder if that pisses you off. Because I didn’t need you as much as you wanted me to.”

“I never expected things to go any further between us, Tyler. We had both agreed on that; it was purely physical and would always be that way. I accepted that. And I’ve said it myself many times; how much she changed you for the better. That I think she’s the best thing that ever happened to you. Before Esme, your entire life fit inside a little cardboard box. You changed that.”

“No. SHE changed that. It was her. And I AM thankful. Because if you hadn’t brought her that day and it had been someone else, I doubt the outcome would have been the same.”

“It was meant to be. Your paths crossing. They may have passed in an unconventional way, but they still passed. I don’t need thanks for that.”

“And I appreciate what you did for her…for ME…after Dhaka. You were there for her. No questions asked. She was scared and she was alone and you stepped up and made sure she was taken care of. When all those doctors were trying to bully her into pulling the plug, you helped her fight back; fought with her to get the care I needed. So thank you. For making sure she was okay. Protecting her. Until I was able to do it again.”

“I didn’t do it for thanks. Or praise. I did it because I care about her. About BOTH of you.”

“Well, you certainly have a hell of a way of showing it. ‘Cause all that good you did? It means shit now. Why, Nik? Why did you lie to me? You knew how desperate I was to find her. All those promises you made, all those times you told me that you were helping me. It was all bullshit. Why? Why did you do it? I would never betray you like that. EVER.”

“It wasn’t an easy decision. Keeping things from you. I didn’t enjoy doing it, Tyler. But I had my reasons.”

“And what were those? What did I ever do to you? What did I do that was so wrong that you’d lie to me like that? It fucking broke me when she left. And you knew where she was all along. You could have ended it; the pain that I was in. If you’d just…”

“Just what? Just told you where she was? I couldn’t do that. I made a promise to her. That I’d make sure she was taken care of. That I’d get her somewhere safe. And that’s what I did.”

“You could have at least told me that she was alive,” he argues. “ That she was okay and I didn’t need to worry. Do you know what it is like? Inside my head? All the horrible things I thought of? About how maybe someone grabbed her and was doing the most vile fucking shit to her? Just to get back at me? Or the times I thought she was dead? If you’d just told me that you had her stashed away and were looking out for her…”

“That wouldn’t have been enough for you. Don’t lie to me and say it would have been. I know you, Tyler. Just knowing she was alive wouldn’t have done a damn thing. You wouldn’t have given me a moment’s rest; you would have pestered and pestered until I finally caved in and told you where she was. And that would have defeated everything she was trying to do.”

Sighing, he looks down at the remains of his coffee; fingertips drumming against the side of the mug. The mental anguish is intense; a mixture of betrayal and heartache and brutal, harsh truth. It wouldn’t have been enough; simply knowing that Esme was alive and well and being kept safe. There was no way he could have simply sat back and kept quiet; instead relentlessly bullying and badgering until Nik finally caved and revealed Esme’s whereabouts. He would have shown up at The Continental and found his way through the front doors and to where she was being kept. And no matter how many men Winston had deployed to stop him, he would have fought and stabbed and shot his way through every single one.

“They would have killed you, Tyler. If I’d told you where she was and you showed up to take her away, The High Table would have made good on their threats. To make you pay for her mistake.”

“A mistake she made years before she ever met me. A mistake she was forgiven for. She was ex-communicated. Told to never come back here again. And she followed every damn rule and warning they gave her. It’s not her fault; that they changed their mind.”

“Unfortunately, when new powers took over, they looked into a lot of files. Found a lot of people that had been let go instead of punished. And Esme was one of them. It’s not fair and I don’t agree with it, but The High Table is beyond reason. They’re dangerous. And they’re not to be crossed. Had you shown up…”

“I would have done whatever I had to. To get her away from here. Away from THEM.”

“You wouldn’t have stood a chance. And Esme knew that. They used you to get to her. They knew if they threatened your life, she’d do what she was told. And that’s where I came in. She called me. I’d never heard her like that before. Not even after Dhaka. She was hysterical. Terrified. She needed a way out of Australia. Before you got back. To spare you.”

“Didn’t exactly spare me, did she. Considering what I went through. Coming home, finding her gone, finding that stupid fucking letter on my table.”

“Better that than dead. Yaz and I went and picked her up. Took her to my place for a week; until I could arrange somewhere safe in New York. I had to call in a lot of favours; for The Continental to even agree to harbour her. But it was the only choice I had. I knew I couldn’t do it all by myself; I didn’t have the manpower to go up against The High Table. And I couldn’t just stash her in a safe house and leave her there and hope for the best. I did what I had to. For her AND you.”

“And what about when she told you she was pregnant? You didn’t stop to think that I deserved to now? That I was going to be a dad? You know all about my past. Nik. About my boy. You didn’t stop to think I’d want to know that I had a baby on the way?”

“I told her to call you. Or to at least let ME call you. Just to tell you about the baby. But she knew you’d track her down; that there was no way you wouldn’t show up. And that would have made everything she’d done completely useless. It would have put that target back on you. And she didn’t want that.”

“What about after? When the smoke cleared? When there was no longer a threat and she was free? You didn’t think of telling me then?”

“She asked me not to. She made me promise. Millie was almost a year old; already walking and starting to talk. Esme was scared; that you’d be so angry and hurt that you’d want nothing to do with her. Or the baby. It wasn’t one of my best decisions; caving in and going along with it.”

He scoffs. “That’s an understatement.”

“Don’t think it was easy for me, Tyler. To keep all of that from you. That it didn’t hurt to lie to you. To keep your child a secret. Because I hated myself for it. Hurting you like that. I still do.”

“I deserved to know. That Esme was alive. And I definitely deserved to know that I had a daughter out there. She’s four, Nik. Look at everything I’ve missed. I wasn’t even there for her. While she was pregnant. I didn’t even get the chance to be.”

“I was there. So was Yaz. She was never alone. We made sure of it; that she and Millie were taken care of. Before AND after.”

“It wasn’t up to you. It wasn’t just some baby. It was MY baby.”

“Can’t you stop and realize that by doing what I did for them, I was also doing it for you? That I had your best interests at heart as well? Tyler…”

“My best interest would have been knowing about my daughter. And being with her mother.”

“Which couldn’t happen. Esme asked me to keep it a secret. And I gave her my word.”

“And you just let four years go by.? How much longer would you have kept Millie’s existence from me? Another year? A couple? A few? Forever?”

“It wasn’t up to me to tell you. And I could only badger Esme so much; when it came to her getting a hold of you. Until she was ready to reach out and let you know, my hands were tied.”

“We’re friends, Nik. Or at least I thought we were. But you keep something like THAT from me? That I was a dad? How do you excuse that? How…?”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell. I gave Esme my word. I promised my silence. And I wasn’t going to betray her trust. Not even for you.”

The hurt and the anger lay simmering on the surface; Nik’s words laced with the harsh and unforgiving truth. He knows it makes sense; both Esme's original decision and the fears she’d harboured about contacting him when the danger had finally passed. But it’s a hard pill to swallow; his pride wounded at the reality that he’d become the protectee instead of being the protector. A fragment of the toxic masculinity that has yet to fully shed; the acknowledgment that he would have met his demise at the hands of The High Table leaving him feeling weak and ‘less than a man’. It’s foolish of course; even the toughest and the strongest need a helping hand from time to time. And while he can forgive Nik for the initial months following Esme’s disappearance, he remains unsure if he can extend it further than that.

******

He opens his mouth to respond but finds himself interrupted; a soft click of one of the doors, followed by Millie stepping out of her room. Messy-haired and blurry-eyed, a pout curving her lips; Posie tucked under an arm and Fredrick dangling from her hand. Initially oblivious to Tyler’s presence and immediately padding towards Nik; giving a sleepy whimper before wrapping both arms around her Aunt’s legs.

“The princess awakes,” Nik greets, and scoops the little one up into her arms; a hand on the back of the four-year-old’s head as she presses a series of kisses to her temple. “My grumpy girl. My grumpy, grumpy girl. Did you sleep well? Is it a right side of the bed morning or a wrong side of the bed one?”

Tyler watches them together; Nik gentle and attentive as she listens to Millie’s whining and grumbling and her long, drawn-out tales of the good dreams she’d managed after falling back asleep. And he notices a softness to his old friend that he’d never witnessed before; different from the care and compassion she’d shown him while in the hospital after Dhaka. Her face and eyes glowing with a mix of tenderness and adoration and her voice much quieter than usual; an even and soothing tone that easily comforts Millie. The latter smiling sleepily as he lays cradled in her aunt’s arms.

“I used to hold you like this all the time,” Nik says. “ Do you remember? It was your favourite way to nap. And every time I would try and put you down, you’d wake up and be so angry with me and I’d have to start all over again. You’re getting too big for it now. Way too long. Soon I won’t be able to do it at all.”

Millie reaches up with one hand to play with the ends of Nik’s hair. “Remember when you used to tuck me in? And you’d snuggle with me and sing me that song? That one in French?

“Au clare de la lune. That was your favourite. And I would stroke your nose like this.” She drags a fingertip down the bridge and then softly traces each nostril. “Over and over again. Until you fell asleep.”

“I miss that song. And snuggling with you.”

“We’ll have to snuggle again very soon. And I’ll sing to you. You know, I used to sing that same song to your Uncle Yaz when he was a little boy. He loved it too. I should teach you the words and then we can surprise him. Sing it for him. Sound good?”

“Sounds good. I miss him. I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“It’s really only been a few weeks. But he’s been away doing work for me in another country. But he’ll be here soon; only a couple more hours to wait. I’m not supposed to spoil things, but he just may be bringing some goodies..”

“For me? Goodies for ME?”

“Just for you.” Smiling down at Millie, Nik runs a hand over her hair and presses a kiss to her brow.. “You are so very loved, little one. By so many people. Don’t you ever forget that, okay?”

The four-year-old giggles when her aunt brushes the tip of her nose against hers. “Okay.”

“But for now, I have to stop being so selfish. And hogging you all for myself. Someone else wants to say good morning to you.”

Tyler approaches as Millie glances his way; little hand shoving her messy hair out of her eyes and the sleepy pout replaced by a broad, brilliant smile. His heart has never felt so full; that beautiful and bright-eyed little girl filling the deepest and darkest of recesses that not even her mother had been able to reach. And now every one of Abuela’s words the day before hit harder than ever; he once again has purpose and reason and people who depend on him outside of the job. It’s his initiative to finally walk away; fully immerse himself in a regular career and a life of being a partner and a father. And it takes all he has not to succumb to the emotions surging through him; managing a shaky smile as he runs a palm over his little girl’s hair and scoops her up into his arms.

“Tyler!” That tiny body moulds against his so perfectly; tiny arms circling his neck and her lips meeting an unshaven cheek. “I missed you!”

“It hasn’t been that long since you last saw me.”

“Long enough! I had a really good sleep. After you tucked me in. You’re really good at it! I couldn’t even move my arms or my legs! Which means the monsters couldn’t get to them! Can you tuck me in again? Tonight?”

“Your momma might be upset. If she doesn’t get to do it. She’s been doing it since you were just a baby.”

“Maybe she can tuck me in first, and then you can do it again. Just in case. We don’t want to hurt her feelings. Wait a sec…” She pulls back to study his attire. “...how come you’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday? Didn’t you pack enough clean stuff?”

“I haven’t been to my room yet. To change.”

“You slept in your clothes?”

“Some of them.”

“Did you sleep with momma? In her bed?”

“Maybe…”

“That means you’re going to have babies. That’s what happens when you sleep in the same bed. That’s how babies are made, you know. You and momma are going to have babies and I’m going to be a big sister.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’re a long way away from stuff like that.”

‘But wait…” Millie chews thoughtfully on her bottom lip. “...WOULD I be a big sister? If you and momma have babies and the babies and I don’t have the same dad…”

Noisily clearing her throat, Nik stares at him pointedly.

“You’d still be a big sister,” he assures her, although it hurts like hell; not being able to tell her the truth. But it isn’t the right time; too much has happened in the past four days and the last thing Millie needs is life-altering news dropped in her lap. “ You’d still have the same mum.”

“I hope you guys have babies. I’d LOVE to be a big sister. Although I don’t know if I wanna share momma with too many people.”

“You’ll share with me, yeah?”

“I already am! I’m cool with that. We can keep sharing her forever if you want. Are we going to go for breakfast? I want to have pancakes again. They’re really good. Maybe you can get pancakes again too and you can try the strawberry jam on them this time.”

‘I will take you for pancakes. And your mum. But first, I really need clean clothes. And a shower. I probably stink.”

Placing her face against his neck, Millie inhales deeply. “You’re not that smelly!”

“Not THAT smelly? So you’re saying I AM smelly? Just a bit?”

She holds her thumb and index finger a half inch apart. “Just a bit.”

“How about you let Tyler go and get cleaned up,” Nik suggests, and reaches for the four-year-old. “And you go and get mom up.”

“I want to go with Tyler. I wanna see his room. I only ever see this one. Can I?” Millie places a hand on his cheek and turns his face towards her. “Go with you? Please? I’ll just hang out and play games on your phone while you get ready. I won’t be any trouble.”

“Something tells me you’re all kinds of trouble,” he chides, and lightly pinches and tickles her stomach. “Like your mum.”

“We’re little but mighty! That’s what mom always says. That we may be small, but we can kick big time ass!”

“Speaking of kicking ass, will your mum kick mine if I take you somewhere without telling her first? Or asking permission?”

“She won’t mind. You’re her boyfriend. She trusts you. And she loves you. She knows you’ll take good care of me. You won’t let anything bad happen.”

“Not in a million years,” he vows, and presses a kiss to her temple.

“I’ll wake Esme,” Nik says, as she follows them to the door. “Let her know where Millie is. And the plans for breakfast.”

“You should come too,” Millie suggests, as she leans sideways and gives her Aunt a farewell kiss. “Have pancakes with us.”

“You know I’m more of a crepes kind of girl.”

“Oh, Auntie Nik…” She heaves a heavy, dramatic sigh. ``....that’s sooo disappointing.”

“You’re just a little monkey, you know that? As tempting as breakfast with my favourite niece sounds…”

“I’m your ONLY niece.”

“...I’ve got things to do. Before Uncle Yaz goes here. But maybe he and I can steal you away at dinnertime. Would that be okay with you?”

“It would be A-okay.”

“You have fun, ma douce fille.” Laying a hand on the top of Millie’s head, Nik kisses one cheek, then the other. “You be good for your…” She abruptly catches herself. “...for Tyler.”

“Always! I’m a delight.”

“Yes, you are. And Tyler…” Nik catches him by the arm before he can step out into the hall.. “I AM sorry. But I did the right thing. For all of you. And I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.”

*****

Millie sits outside the bathroom as he showers; leaning back against the wall with her legs stretched out and one foot crossed over the other. Content with both watching youtube kids on his phone and asking a million questions through the crack in the door.

“Tyler?!”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think is better? Tacos or spaghetti?”

“I’m a carb guy. Spaghetti.”

“I love both. But I’m a taco girl. Like momma. Have you ever had spaghetti tacos?”

“Can’t say I have. And I’m not sure if I ever want to try them.”

“Oh my god, they’re so good! Momma makes them every Saturday night. For dinner. You get the taco shell and you put the spaghetti in it and then you put the smelly feet cheese on it.”

“Stinky feet cheese?”

“The white stuff. You know, that you sprinkle on spaghetti.”

Grinning, he turns off the shower and runs his hands over his face; clearing water from his eyes. “You mean parmesan?”

“Yeah! Stinky feet cheese! Momma taught me that. ‘Cause it might taste good, but it smells like stinky feet.”

“Your mum’s a bit weird.”

“But you love her anyway, right?”

“Always. No matter how weird she might get as she gets older.”

“What about toast?” Millie inquires. “ Do you like toast?”

“I do.”

“What would you rather put on it? Jam or peanut butter?”

“Neither. Vegemite.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s something we have in Australia. That you can put on your toast. You can put it on anything you want, really. Bread, waffles, steak.”

‘What’s it taste like?”

“That’s hard to explain. Kinda strong. Kinda salty. Your mum hates it.”

“When did momma try it? How did she try it? She’s been to Australia?”

“She spent some time there. Before you were even a twinkle in her eye.”

“ She’s been to your house?”

“Not the house I have now, but…”

“Were you her boyfriend? Before I ever came along? I asked momma but…”

“What did she say?”

“I don’t think she was telling me the truth. She said that you weren’t. That you were just a friend. But I could tell she was fibbin’. Were you? Her boyfriend? You can tell me. I won’t tell her you did.”

“Your mum and I…” Tyler chooses his words carefully, knowing full well that despite her promise, Millie will likely go back to her mother with even more questions. And an axe to grind about why she wasn’t told the truth in the first place. “...we were together for a bit.”

“How long is a bit?”

“Almost a year.”

“That’s a long time! You lived together?”

“At my old place, yeah.” He leaves out the rest. No details about her mother sticking by his side through his coma and his months-long hospital stay and the subsequent long and arduous healing process after he was released. And certainly nothing related to their long-term plans; the purchasing of a house and the talk of marriage and children. Coughing up just enough information to satisfy Millie’s rampant curiosity.

“Where was that?”

“A few hours from where I live now.”

“Where though? Like what’s the name of the city?”

“The Kimberley.”

“What city do you live in now? Where are we gonna call home?”

“Broome.”

“Is it near the beach? Momma said Australia has a lot of really nice beaches. And I LOVE the beach. I wanna go to the beach. Do you think we could go? Is it close by?”

“We can go as much as you want. Only about a fifteen-minute walk.” Vigorously scrubbing at his hair with a towel, he wraps another around his waist before opening the door and peeking out into the hallway). “You alright?”

“I’m alright.”

“What’cha doing?”

“Watching Bluey. Do you know who Bluey is?”

“No.”

“I love Bluey! Momma and I watch him together every morning after breakfast. Maybe we can all watch him together today.”

“Maybe. Right now, could you do me a favour? Can you close your eyes? So I can come out there and get some clothes on?”

“What? You don’t want me to see your bare bum? It’s just a bum. We all have them.”

“If you don't want nightmares for the rest of your life, you’d close your eyes.”

“It can’t be that bad! But okay….” Millie gives a dramatic sigh. “...my eyes are closed.”

Stepping out into the hall, he heads to the sleeping area; quickly drying off the last of his body before slipping into boxer briefs and a pair of cargo pants. And when he gives permission for her to open her eyes, she comes bounding into the room; immediately throwing herself into the middle of the king-sized bed. Giggling as she bounces up and down on her rear and then reaching for a pillow; punching and slapping it into its preferred comfort level before placing it against the headboard and leaning back against it.

“You have more tattoos! Lots more! Those are really cool! Did you get ANY of them in jail?”

“No. I had them all before that.”

The four-year-old’s eyes widen. “You’ve been in jail?”

“Briefly.”

“What did you go to jail for?”

“I got caught. Hurting a bad guy.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Just a little.”

“How’d you do it?”

“That you don’t need to know.”

“How’d you get out? Did you escape? Are you on the run?”

“Where do you learn these kinds of things? I know your mum isn’t teaching you.”

“Sometimes I sneak out into the living room when mom is watching Law and Order. I hear things. Don’t tell her? Please? I’m supposed to be asleep when I do it. I don't want to get in trouble.”

“Your secret is safe with me. Besides, snitches get stitches.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means people who rat on others get themselves into big trouble. They get messed up. And need stitches.”

“Ratting is like tattling on someone?”

“Exactly like it.”

“There’s this girl at school that tattles on me. All the time! Because I say bad words. I can’t help it, you know. Sometimes they just slip out. Uncle Yaz says I know two languages; English and profanity.”

“I can’t believe you even know that word. Profanity.”

“I’m a smart cookie. Like momma. I also get tattled on ‘cause I beat up people sometimes. But not good people. Bad people. Just like you hurt bad people.”

‘What makes them bad?”

“They’re bullies. They pick on the younger kids and the ones that are much smaller. And the ones that can’t fight for themselves. Like the kids with special needs. Momma says to always defend them especially. To hit first, talk later, if I have to. So that’s what I do.” Millie shrugs. “I hit. And really hard. I broke two noses, you know. Not the same person. Two different people.”

“What happened?” He slips into a simple black tee. “When you did that?”

“I had to go to the principal’s office. And they called momma. Momma had to pretend to be really disappointed in me and she had to lie when she told them that she’d talk to me and punish me. But then when we left she took me for ice cream and to feed the ducks in Central Park. And she told me she was proud of me. For standing up for people who couldn’t stand up for themselves.”

“Your mum is a pretty amazing lady, you know that?”

“She’s the best mom EVER. If I had to pick my mom out of all the moms in the world, I’d still pick her. We have a lot of fun together. And there’s lots of love in our house. Momma makes sure of it.”

“You’re a lucky girl. Having the mum you do.”

“She is the bestest.” Millie leans back against the pillow and wayward strands of hair out of her eyes. “Tyler, can I ask you a question?”

“Better than anyone I know.”

“Do you have kids? ‘Cause you’re really good with them. You never get annoyed with me; when I ask you tons of things. And you don’t lose your patience and you don’t get angry and yell. You must have kids.”

“I DID have a kid. I had a little boy.”

“What did you mean ‘had’? You don’t have him anymore? Where is he? With his momma?”

“No. He got really sick. When he was a little boy. And unfortunately, he passed away.”

“He got sick? Like cough due to cold?”

“Something very serious. That doctors couldn’t fix.”

“How old was he?”

“Six. Not much older than you are right now.”

“You and his momma must have been really sad. When he died. What was his name?”

“Austin.”

“I like that name. It’s a good name. Maybe I’ll name my next teddy that. And then you can cuddle it when you’re sad and that way, you can feel closer to your little boy.”

“That would be really awesome of you. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry that he died. I’m sorry it makes your heart sad. I’m sorry…”

“Hey…hey…” Hooking a finger under her chin, he tilts her head up towards him. “...don’t cry. There’s no reason to. It’s a good thing; to talk about him. Even if it does make my heart hurt a bit. You got a lot of feelings in that little body, don’t ya. Just like your mumma.”

“Do you think he would have liked me? Do you think we would have been friends?”

“I think he would have loved you. How could he not?” He glances towards his cell phone as it vibrates from its spot on the table by the window; unable to control the smile that spreads from ear to ear at the sight of Esme’s name splashed across the screen. And it scoops it up just as it reaches the third ring. “Hey.”

‘Hey.” Her voice is laced with sleep. And contentment. “How’re things going? She behaving?”

“Always. She’s keeping me entertained.”

“I bet. She’s probably asked you a million and one personal questions by now. By the way, I’ve got a bone to pick with you. You didn’t stick around to say ‘good morning’.”

“I didn’t have the heart to wake you up. But good morning.”

“I don’t mean THAT way. I mean the OTHER way. You know, the one that doesn’t involve words?”

Tyler grins. “You mean your favourite wake-up call. How rude of me; not sticking around for THAT.”

“Nothing like an Australian kiss from my favourite Aussie.”

“Aren’t I the only Aussie you know?”

“Technically. Doesn’t mean you can’t be my favourite.”

“Your logic is…astounding. I’ll make it up to you.”

‘You bet your hot Australian ass, you will. Did you sleep good? I almost checked to see if you were breathing when I got up around four to pee. I don’t think you moved an inch after you drifted off.”

“Best sleep I’ve had in years. You?”

“Same. It was nice. Having you in bed with me again. I missed it.”

“So did I. We’ll get to do more of it. Very soon.”

“I hope so. Well…” She yawns. “... I just thought I’d call and make sure Millie wasn’t driving you up the wall.”

“She never could. We’ll be back in a bit. Give you a chance to shower and…”

He catches it out of the corner of his eye; a brief yet blinding flash as sunlight grabs hold of something metallic in an open window across the street. Both jaw and stomach clenching at the sight of a figure -clad in black- hunched over a rifle; their eye pressed to the scope as the barrel rests upon the weathered sill. And he glances back at Millie; completely oblivious to the danger that’s unfolding around her. Her messy hair perfectly framing her face as she watches another episode of her favourite show; giggling at the main character’s antics as she happily wriggles her toes. And then he sees it; the red dot that glows open the headboard just mere inches from her shoulder

His instincts kick into high gear; years spent in the military and on the job completely taking hold of him. Tossing the phone onto the table, he crosses the room in two long strides; no words spoken as he abruptly scoops his daughter up into his arms just as the first bullet pierces the window and then slams into the headboard. A second round following almost immediately; narrowly missing his head before it embeds itself in the wall. He attempts to make it to the door but the sniper’s rifle is quickly replaced by machine gun fire; shattering every window and destroying items within the room. Struggling to keep hold of Millie as her fight or flight response kicks in; screaming in sheer terror as she kicks and fails with the strength of two grown men.

Amidst the continuous parade of bullets, he clutches her even tighter to his chest, and dropping to his knees behind the half wall that separates the head of the bed from the living area, he aggressively forces her down onto her side. One hand grabbing the back of both her knees and pushing them up into her chest; telling her to stay exactly where and how she is; the fetal position both a source of protection and comfort. And it isn’t until he covers her body with his own that she finally stops fighting; her face bright red and her entire body soaked in sweat as she continues to wail and tears pour down her cheeks.

“Make it stop! Tyler! Make it stop!”

‘It’s alright…” Covering her ears with his palms, he presses his front against her back; pushing her further into the floor. “...it’ll be over soon…it’ll all be over soon…”

“Tell them to leave us alone! Tell them to go away!”

“Just breathe, Millie,” he orders. “ Just breathe.” Pressing his cheek against hers, he offers endless words of comfort and reassurance; mentally counting off the rounds and praying that once finished, the shooter won’t stop to reload. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. You’re safe. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

Her hysterical shrieking and blabbering give way to sobbing, her entire body trembling by the force and power of her fear. And he feels the warmth against him; a spreading puddle of urine that soaks the front of his shirt and the carpet below. And when the gunfire stops and the room falls silent, he’s suddenly aware of his own fear; the thundering of his heart within his chest and the beads of perspiration that have gathered at his temples and the nape of his neck and the burn of bile in the back of his throat. And he waits for several minutes as a precaution; continuing to cover Millie’s tiny frame with his own in case another assault is launched.

Silence.

He initially pushes himself up onto his knees and then falls back onto his ass; feeling exhausted as both pure terror and adrenaline begin to leave his body. Using a forearm to clear sweat off his brow, he picks Millie up; feeling her urine-drenched pyjamas and the quaking of her body as little arms circle his neck as she collapses against him. And his eyes close as he repeatedly smooths a hand over her hair; praising her for being brave and strong while pressing a series of kisses to her cheek and temple.

“It’s okay…you’re okay, Millie. It’s over now. It’s all over.”

“What if they come and find us?” She speaks between breathless sobs. “What if they come for us and kill us?”

“No one is coming for us,” he assures her, a palm cradling the back of her head as he kisses her cheek. “You’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you. It’s done. It’s all done.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. There’s no more bad guys. They’re gone. They’re all gone.”

Taking a deep, quivering breath, she relaxes against him; head on his shoulder as she shoves a thumb into her mouth.

Leaning back against the wall, Tyler once more closes his eyes; fingers continuously moving through her hair in an attempt to further soothe her. “Everything’s alright now. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

For several minutes, they remain motionless and silent. Tears pouring down Millie’s face as she sucks aggressively at her thumb and he attempts to catch his breath.

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fanfic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fanfic #Extraction fanfiction #Extraction 2 #Extraction #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme Drummond #Esme Drummond-Rake #Chris Hemsworth

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cantfightmoonlight · 1 year

Text

@kadiraksoy

You’re fine. You’ll be fine. She couldn’t tell you how many times she reiterated that stupid little phrase over and over again in her head. Five? Maybe six? Maybe ten times over? Maybe more? And it had worked. At first. She quietly sunk into the back of her office chair when Millie had handed over an essay worth of data and evidence she had collected that proved that Meena’s reality, as she knew it, had been false. She slowly flipped through page after page, managing to keep her composure and still her shaking fingers, as she calmly and rationally raised her gaze and told the town clerk that she’d take care of it. Meena was almost unsettlingly undisturbed as she called for a public announcement outside of Town Hall a mere hours after the last firework had exploded into ash in the sky ringing in that of the New Year. And she was told she gave quite the speech, calling forth search parties to bring one of their own back home. The spitting image of what a Mayor should be. Calm, cool and collected as she rested her hand on Millie’s shoulder and assured the woman that she had done good. They had finally managed to get a leg up on whoever had been terrorizing their town. Their office had managed to fulfill what they had originally promised the people of Lunar Cove when she had initially ran- that they would work to uncover the truth and find the answers their townspeople so desperately inquired. Only as Meena let her car door fall shut behind her as she drove painstakingly back home rather than cause a scene by zipping through the night using her super speed, she hardly felt as if any of this was a cause for celebration.

If anything, she felt as if she may die all over again. Her breath quickened and her pipes seemed to close up with each gasp she took. It didn’t matter how many times she tried to reassure herself that she would be fine or remind herself that the panic would pass as it always seemed to. For she was only a few steps through her front door, when her lungs began to feel as if they were filling up with water. Fuck. She should have seen it coming. The rug always did seem to be pulled out from under her when she least expected it. She had been due for another life shattering discovery and, yet, here she was, gasping out for air as she locked the door behind her and stumbled up the stairs. Crawling into her bedroom, she pulled her feet into her chest and buried her face into her hands. Breath. Just breath. You’re alright. Only no amount of lying to herself could make this alright.

Theo was alive and some asshole thought it would be funny to toy with her by sending god knows who’s heart to her in some box. Oh god. She had a panic attack that night too and, now the image of her hands stained in blood as they dropped the still beating heart to ground flooded into her mind. She had silently grieved the loss of the one person in her life who had managed to stick around, no matter how horrible they had been to each other and for each other. Theo had stayed until the end. Only it hadn’t been the end. She paraded herself around town acting as if she was better than fine. Acting as if she had been thriving. She had declared him dead and threw herself into her political campaign for Mayor. She had become the Clan Leader, taking over the position her own ‘husband’ coveted over her. She had lost everyone in her life and yet she had managed to turn things around. Didn’t she? Hadn’t she? So why the fuck was she here all over again? Curled up in a tiny little ball beside her bed, tears cascading down her cheeks as she tried to no avail to fight to take another breath. “Fuck,” She whimpered out, barely registering the sounds of Kadir calling out to from outside the front door.

#kadir ft. meena #c: meena #tw panic attack #this isn't great but have a vulnerable tiny meena

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sapphic-suchoripterus · 10 months

Text

heckuva chief season 2 episode 5 thoughts

M & M fight and resolution was nice, its good to see they aren't entirely perfect.

Moxxie going with a Shakespearean plan/disguise feels very in character and also showcases his flaws, but it still kinda feels like the series doesn't want to confront it as much ad they just want to continue having him be a punching bag for the other characters.

It's clear Moxxie needs to get better at communication with Millie, he's not good at it.

I'm not really sure if the whole popularity thing was like a commentary on double standards between gender among preteens, but it's weird and it got a little uncomfortable and is all around clumsy... but I've kinda come to expect that.

I always clench my teeth when this show has nameless crowds of humans. It always results in some "haha humans are awful and nasty so you don't feel bad when they die" but tbh the jokes aren't as funny as they are gross. "Haha, Millie got sexually harassed by an adult who thought she was a kid" isn't making me laugh.

then the stupid incest jokes really ruined it tbh. fuckin gross unfunny and unnecessary.

Nice to see Asmodean Crystals are coming back

Millie is a cutie, she's gone up on the best character meter

Hold up I thought heroin was readily available in hell, it's supplied from the living world?

We get our first appearance of Barbie Wire, she's cool... for the most part. Her little fanservice moment didnt work for me, considering who it was aimed at and her reasoning.

I don't blame her for not wanting to see Blitz. I'm not sure if the implication is that he's the one who caused her drug problem and put her in rehab, but it's interesting.

also why is he looking for her now? does it have to do with his... whatever... that's going on with Stolas?

Noticed that Blitz's name in the credits has two crosses over the O. From what I've seem of his grammar skills, I think that Blitz thinks crossing the O in his name will make it silent. Like, he legit thinks that's how it works.

low-tier episode

#helluva boss critique #sof squawks #tldr it kinda sucked #jokes were awful

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funkypoacher · 2 years

Note

25 OTP prompts #16 "It's always been you."

Coupling of your choice 💚

When I said “there might be smut” what I actually meant was “they don’t even kiss.” But I am super happy with how this turned out. Max and Archie have more ignored, misplaced baggage than a big-name airline, and, thanks to this prompt (thankyouthankyou), it looks like The Winners of the Award for Worst Adults Adulting might actually start to heal. Someday. <.< Maybe.

Warnings for: way too much dialogue, Max being a prick, and Archie impersonating garbage. Also warnings for mentions of a sick baby and difficult childbirth and drug use and withdrawal. (this is almost 5,000 words what happened)

also i'll tag @the-lastcall because you tagged me for WIP whenever <3 this is my wip, and it'll stop wipping when I put it on ao3 eventually.

___

The Outer Worlds Maximillian DeSoto/Archie Quaice "Millie"

Humpin’ bureaucracy’s leg like a rutting canid weren’t so bad if it landed you in luxury’s lap afterward. Leastways, that’s how Archie figured, as her finger, frilled with purpleberry frosting, jammed between her lips, that savorating goodness smacked vociferously to dissipating. Yum.

With tizzied taste buds, Archie finished the Rizzo’s pastry split-lickity. She rode a sugar-high back to her room, biding time at one of the large windows on the way, lingering long enough to look out at Byzantium’s streets. There wasn’t much action, and it made Archie smirk.

The Halcyon Holdings Corporate Board had been born anew, slapped on the bottom, and told to get crackin’. Surprisingly, it was doing better than simply hollering. Rounding-up and rebranding every available scientist with a new, iron-seared vision of the future, the Board was allocating resources according to some ‘grand plan’, though such verbiage was verily avoided for its religious lean. Most of the Board’s big-hats rather side-eyed faith these days, which ruffled the OSI’s red-faced clergy in the middle of ameliorating a fresh regime with their stale ways.

As Archie heard it, one particular up-the-chain colony director was none-too-shrewdly shooing the Bishop’s attempts at confabulation, and it was this said director’s sparse agreeability which had him sent on such long furloughs about the colony. These furloughs never seemed for-long-enough, though. His relationship with Archimedes Quaice was gasoline-doused and pitch-sticky. Primed to explode at even the mention of sparkage, its fuse—his fuse—was quite the clipped one.

Short-fused Maximillian DeSoto was there now, actually. Max was in her room. It hadn’t been expected.

Less expected than his presence, of course, was Max stooping over her kid.

“Should you even be on that bum leg?” Archie strode across her room, speeding towards the man who gripped the bassinet with one hand, while the other white-knuckled the polished curve of his cane.

Upon turning towards her, Max’s expression weren’t any measure of practiced, sternly inscrutability. If anything, he’d decided new position was supported by such perks as dismissing them Scientician pillars of stoicism entirely. That, or it was his loss of faith. Either/or, he looked like he’d come to fight.

“No more than you should be leaving the child alone,” Max answered headedly, stepping back to afford her room.

Peeping the bassinet’s payload to reaffirm the child’s sound sleeping, Archie managed to shrug.

“Just went down the hall for food. Wasn’t gone longer than a few minutes.”

Walking to the parlor of her open-concept quarters, the woman lit a Wentworth cigarette, humming gratified for the taste. Tossing its squat pack on a table, she slumped into the velvet divan, eyeing someone she hadn’t put peepers on in near-bouts a fortnight.

Much hadn’t been said, then. Actually, they hadn’t spoken at all. Her baby had been born—Archie could hardly recollect it, save an impression of agony—but, afterwards, weaving in and out with her wavering subconscious, was something she flatteringly settled on calling his braided-in concern. Archie remembered Max saying something to Ellie Fenhill while gripping her arm… The wrinkles on his hands had been exaggerated to craggy cliffs due to whatever brain-bending pain-placater they’d had her hooked to… And then Archie remembered Max had gone.

Two weeks(ish) had shilly-shallied passed since then. The days’ long hours had filled with barrels of befuddlings. Halcyon’s upheaval aside, Max DeSoto was now very the head honcho. Captaining the Unreliable’s rag-tag bag of Board-certified unemployables, Maximillian and Co. had stormed the prison-planet Tartarus, saved the scientist Phineas Welles, bargained with big-cheese Sophia Akande, and come-out the other side smiling (sorta).

Halcyon had been headed for a dust-up, no bones there, but Max had the healthsome prestige which came with causing such a revivifying ruckus, and that… It was something to chaw at, certainly. Archie was at his mercy as much as anyone. That, as a kindness, was questionable.

“You could have called for something. Someone would have brought you food.” Today, Max was cold and flippant.

“Don’t like anyone waiting on me. You know that.” Meanwhile, Archie was aiming for lax.

Such divided and negative dialectical mathematics didn’t so much suggest a positive sum.

Gripping his cane, it weren’t quite the feeble front it ought’ve been. No one could seem frail when they stood to the height that Maximillian DeSoto did, or when they looked down from it, which he’d always enjoyed.

“No, I know,” he answered thinly. “Just as you won’t wait for anyone else. With the child to look after, that’s going to have to change.”

Taking a drag of her cigarette, Archie leaned forwards, ashing into the expensive marble tray. She also leaned towards a new avenue of chit-chat. “Expecting you’ll want me back at work soon. It’s why you brought me here, after all.” She glanced at him after another puff. “You’d said you might have me looking at McDevitt’s work? Seein’ about bettering the hydroponics?” Taking another cigarette-hit, Archie smiled nostalgically, nattering about how she’d “put so many of those rigs together back on Earth before the lay-offs, could probably do it in my sleep, now.”

“That was the plan, originally,” confirmed Max, “but we’ve since located a few soil engineers who are making great strides. For now, you can focus on the child. As I understand from Miss Fenhill, its health is still rather poor.”

Archie nodded slowly. “Child-rearing. Got it.” It wasn’t the responsibility she was skeptical of: it was how long they’d let her do it. Taking care of her own weren’t much the contribution in a colony going full-speed towards desperately-required efficiency.

“For all the trouble it took in wrangling me here,” Archie noted, “might we’ll’ve left me on Monarch if that’s all I’m to do.”

Max’s head tilted. “Is that where you wish to be? On Monarch?”

Archie considered the fiction in her casual pose; the inaccuracy of her disinterested tone; the falsehood in her furtive eyes. All she put forth suggested detachment as his presence, but her heart were beating manic like a madman at the door. So Archie tried, for a second, at honesty.

“Maybe.” She huffed. “No. Not really. Monarch is…”

… A cesspit.

Max’s rounded eyes coldly waylaid their surprise. “No? I would think you’d want the child’s father involved in raising her.”

“There’s hardly any raisin’ her now,” Archie replied. “There’s just waitin’ to see if she lives through the month.”

“But you would rather be with Bryant,” Max said—he didn’t ask—this was simply confirmation of his suspicions.

Archie shrugged.

The sneer that spread across Max’s face seemed like a smile gone sour—as though a happiness had gotten into something bitter and went terribly, sadly wrong.

Wishing not to wander that avenue of conversation—wanting, in fact, to copiously cold-shoulder anything that so riled Maximillian DeSoto—Archie stood. She offered him a cigarette. Bending forward slight, Max allowed her to place one between his lips, as though some kind of catered-to, fine and lofty Board executive, which he was.

Which is he, Archie thought, fumbling with the lighter.

Lighting the stick stuck between his lips, she tried not to stare there. “So. How’s the colony, Mr. Director-of-Colony-Assets-and-Acclimation? Quite the fance-and-pomp title you’re flashing these days.”

Taking a deep drag, Max’s eyes closed. “It could be worse.” Exhaling, he tsked frustratedly under his breath. “Phft. Hardly. As the title suggests, acclimating Halcyon’s citizens has been one of the larger responsibilities. I’d thought it’d be the more difficult one. But, as it turns out, all their lack of intelligence does not translate to a scarcity in faith.” He rolled the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “The citizens of Halcyon are steadfast, and they’ll turn whichever way the OSI dictates, no matter its stark contrast to their precepts from the day before. Fools,” he spat, alongside an exhale of smoke.

“It’s the assets, then, that are sticking your craw?”

Max nodded, side-eyeing, as usual, her low-brow verbiage. “Yes. Byzantium’s stocks aren’t so impressive when set against system-wide projections for the next five years. Even if we took every able body In Halcyon and converted them to laborours, we still may run out of food. If we took every scientist and threw them at the problem—which we have—we still may not be able to properly terraform the system.” Worked near to throes with the bothersome subject matter, Max began pacing, his cane tapping the marble floor and cigarette casting an ashen trail. “The Adjutant has been pushing for partial institution of the Lifetime Employment Program. And Welles’ pessimism when it comes to old-Board rhetoric has him blind to the fact that the program may save us in the long-run.”

“The Lifetime Employment Program… That was the scheme to freeze folks, wasn’t it?”

As his pacing brought him back around, Max noted, “that’s right—you left us after we secured the dimethyl sulfoxide.” Stopping his step, this curbing of agitated action complemented a curiously apologetic tone. “I know it seems like a step back,” he said tiredly. “We fought the Board to stop such callous, clear-cut measures—”

“No, no,” Archie interrupted, smiling softly. “I trust you. If it’s all so dire, I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure it’s what needs to be done.”

She thought to check her time-peice for the sake of clocking their moment of understanding. It were, historically, always a rather spectacular second: when Max looked her over and saw no judgment, and Archie, ever the moralist, appreciated his pragmatism which could be remarkably kind-hearted.

With some kind of ice broken, small-talk rose through the cracks. They sat at the couches, Archie pouring two glasses of Spectrum Vodka, and over the rims of their watered-drinks they discussed what few shared interests they had, namely what the Unreliable’s former crew were up to, and, finally, the fates of any small towns that they were both aware of, Archie’s geographical knowledge of the system not exactly robust by any means.

Like many stuck slumming in Law-forsaken back-waters, their conversation rested in Edgewater, eventually. Defying their brackish ties with the town, however, it wasn’t so salty a topic.

“Half the problem was parts, is my understanding.” Max took another gargle from his glass. “I’ve asked not to be bothered with such insignificant minutiae, but it seems everything crosses my desk, regardless of what I say.” He huffed. “Anyways. Stellar Bay’s cannery has been largely disassembled, with its parts destined for Edgewater. We debated its usefulness as a functioning unit on its own, but ultimately we’re going to continue the evacuations of Monarch that the Board couldn’t be bothered with.”

“Where you sending them?” Archie asked, drink-cozy on her spot on the couch.

“Wherever the workers are needed,” Max answered. “There’s even a fair few of your Iconoclasts set to become useful members of society here on Terra 2. Zora Blackwood is in Edgewater now, in fact, overseeing reformations. It’s likely she’ll remain there as Outpost Administrator for some time.”

“Zora jumped ship?” Prodding at this crap-tacular reality, Archie perceived, rather painfully, that the rum had hassled her head to aching.

Wincing, she peered at Max.

“Have you not spoken with Bryant at all?” he wondered.

Reaching forward, Archie forsook her drink far and away on the coffee table, soured to it. “No. I keep meaning to. Supposing I oughta radio him, or write him. He should know it happened, at any rate.”

Max offered, sans any stab of concern, “he does.”

Archie swallowed, drowning in what care he lacked. “What?”

“Your recovery following the birth was difficult and I thought he should know,” Max explained, boredly inspecting his drink. “In case anything should happen. In case the child should need to be relocated.”

Archie spun without influence. She had a whole roll-call of favored pharmaceuticals, and, while booze might’n been sitched swell at the bottom, she weren’t a light-weight, either. Archie could hold her hooch. Archie could hold her drink a damn-sight better than what Max was now throwing at her by the beefing barrel-full.

“You talked to him.”

“I did,” Max confirmed.

“You talked to him,” Archie repeated, sprat-angsting as though stuck in a corner.

“Yes,” Max repeated, words heavier than lead. “I spoke with Bryant. He said congratulations were in order. He seems to be under the impression that the child is mine.”

The plush, pillowy couch cushions ‘neath her noggin didn’t comfort. They only rooted her to the spot, though they did, at least, hold her head where her neck couldn’t. What Archie would’ve given for a flash of Focusitol, or Level Head, to clear-out the brain-fog, but she’d been cut off. It were the drugs, after all, that made the birthing so dangerous in the first place.

Due to stress and thanks to lifestyle-choices, Archie’s then-recently increased cocktail of daily opiates had fairly fucked her system. Requiring a C-section, an immediate detox of her body followed on doctor’s orders. It wasn’t the birth that nearly ended her: it was the withdrawal. Archie had been tied to the hospital bed, and covered in her own sick, for days. At the end of it, she didn’t feel like herself.

She still didn’t.

“As much as I dislike the man,” Max said, hoisting himself up from the couch, “what you’ve done is cruel.”

Archie’s voice stuck on the notion. “Cruel?”

“Yes,” Max snapped, “cruel. Of course it’s cruel to keep the truth of the child’s breeding from the father!”

“But don’t you…?” Mustering the merest smidge of grit, Archie swallowed and begged him, implored him, “but don’t you think it’s kinder than the burden of it?”

“You think it’s a burden?” Max wondered, too stunned, now, to sound angry.

“Could be,” Archie answered quietly, shrinking into herself.

Max was awestruck: smucked where he stood by something he’d apparently been thinking on lengthily, yet the conclusion he’d previously come to had been short.

“Is that why you told Bryant the child was mine? To absolve him of the responsibility?”

“Maybe,” Archie shrugged. “Maybe I just don’t know who the father really is.” They both winced distastefully in turn, and Archie, sighing sourly at herself, recanted. “No, sorry, that’s me bein’ smart. I know who the daddy is, Max. And… the truth all out? I know I didn’t want him clinging to me outta some high-minded sense of obligation.”

“Do you honestly believe Bryant has a high-minded bone in his body?” Max, too, made an off-handed sound of displeasure, though it was hardly aimed at himself. “What am I talking about, the fool is stoned almost 24-7. If not on medicinals then certainly on his own hog-wash.”

“I know you don’t like him, but Graham…” Archie’s shoulders fell. “If he knew the child was his? He wouldn’t’ve let me leave Monarch without a fight. Shoulda heard the things he said. About fatherhood, and the universe understanding itself through progeny, and… and the like.” Archie bit her lip. “Point is, I don’t want…” She closed her eyes. ”I don’t want to be walkin’ all over anyone’s right to livin’ as they like because they think they oughta be fatherin’.”

“Ah, yes. Your ‘generosity’ regarding personal liberties. The same benevolence that kept you from killing marauders is now, miraculously, absolving you of telling the truth in regards to this child.” Max 180-ied to irate from sarcastically-tickled in no seconds at all. “Void take the Pillars, but they are certainly right to say that emotions are a base reaction in comparison to reason.”

“You think I’m being emotional?” Archie asked, grinning for the hypocrisy. “You’re the one riling.”

Max stood taller, then. Both hands resting on his cane lessened to just the one; his shoulders straightened with the grace of someone far too happy to be correct.

Taking a step closer to the couches, Max towered over her.

“Doctor Fenhill explained that, despite the child’s frail state, she was not born prematurely. Given the new time-table… I know it’s mine.”

Archie’s gaze fell to her lap. “That’s not true.”

“Archie,” Max warned.

Eyes turning upwards, Archie’s mouth fell ajar, but no words fumbled passed her lips. Jaw working to get anything out, as though she were an animal choking on a bone, yet still Archie could emit nothing but a moan that sorried, slowly, into low, desperate sobbing.

He’d known… Void, how long? As they’d sipped tipples, all friendly, he’d held, in his palm, this accuracy she wanted kept from everybody. And here was the killing-blow from a man who loved to land his punches, her fate still crumpled in his hands.

“Max, I…”

She cried garbled half-excuses, and confused explanations, none of it shaping into any language-based lick-of-sense. The only thing she could properly manage, truly, was her anguish, which sputtered and gobbed between thick, heavy tears.

“I can’t believe this,” Max spat. “You’re pathetic, you know that? Caught in a lie, and all you can do is blubber like a child.

“Max!” Archie gasped as though slapped.

“Do you hate me so much?” Max demanded, pacing once more. “To go to such lengths—to lie like this? Do you know I hold your life in my hands?”

Dizzy with regret, turned-about and tousled, Archie was finally able to tether herself to this—to something he’d said she knew to be a lie.

“I don’t hate you,” she whimpered. “I don’t, I swear…”

“What is it, then?” Max asked. “You’re afraid of me?”

There’s something to be said for history—for having lived through it, and to see it coming ‘round again. In a moment of clarity, Archie was able to eye-ball Max unwaveringly, remembering the lengths he went to in apology after hurting her during the fray with Reginald Chaney. He’d regretted, often times, startling her with his tempers. Moreover, Max’s self-superiority loathed to see him wrong, and his present acrimony clearly came from assuming just this: that he’d thought Archie had forgiven him, and, as it turned out she never had.

But she had, damn it. There weren’t no sin of Max’s that she couldn’t stand. She’d lied out of fear, but it wasn’t outta fear of him.

“No, Maximillian,” Archie said, voice warbling under the weight of her conviction. “I am not afraid of you.” She softened. “But I am afraid to be around you.”

Max scoffed. “Same thing.”

“No—no it rutting isn’t!” She yelled, voice echoing off the walls.

Calming herself, Archie craved that mellow, yellow, sunshine-n-posies dulcet of various drugs and doses that had often seen her through parley with Max. But she was on her own—it was just her skin against Max’s, with the question being whose was thicker?

“It’s not the same,” Archie repeated. “Being around you makes me think of everything I walked away from when I left the Unreliable. Don’t mean the others so much, good as they are. Or the free meals. But us… We could’ve…” Archie sighed. “And I walked away because I was afraid of what Welles had us doing.” She whittled a serene smile out of her certainty. “I’m not cut-out for captaining. Nor for crew-work, neither. Not even fit for kitchen-duty. And I didn’t want to be a burden.” Archie straightened her posture, mirroring Max’s iron-rod spine. “I don’t want to be a burden now,” she clarified. “It’s why I… It’s why I’ve said what I’ve said to those I’ve said it to.”

The ending dregs of Max’s fury burned away to a subdued expression.

“Sorry as I am for what you and I missed,” Archie promised, “I didn’t fit with what you were doin’. It was better for everyone that I left.”

Max’s gaze meandered over her, taking measurements, making notes. It weren’t like he was seeing her anew, or appreciating the familiar. Maybe it were just something for his eyeballs to do while his brain blistered with what she’d said.

“That isn’t true,” he said at length.

Max gripped his cane with a hand that suddenly wanted of colour. Most of him blanched; most of him seemed old, matching the bend of his back which suddenly curved as he walked away in inches.

He came to a stop, having not shuffled much distance. But he was far from the man of moments before, young for all his fury.

“I had lost my faith,” Max said, his back still to her. ”It was the only thing making sense of this Void-blasted joke we call existence. You were supposed to be the thing that kept me together after. You and your endless answers; you and your inexhaustible alternatives to anything I’d ever preached, or stood for. But you didn’t. You left when I needed you. And I’ve been blaming you ever since. For things…” Max sighed deeply. ”For problems of my own making, I suppose.”

Archie walked over, lighting along so quiet she didn’t even harken her own step. She’d always figured they were hum-dingers of a distraction for each other: something to paw at—something to love until the lie of it got too heavy, and they could vent it out the airlock alongside other such vain, idle vocab as ‘let’s be together’ or ‘forever’. Things didn’t last in the universe—reason schooled them so. And even if Archie weren’t religious, she still respected facts.

But here they were: at the end of it. After the end of their relationship. And still Max was admitting to sentiments past a best-before date. It meant they’d been truthsome: anything he’d said, or singed across her skin in tenderness, hadn’t been some pretty, pearly prose to get him what he’d wanted, in the moment. He’d cared for her—the real deal—which meant any clinging, after the baby, wouldn’t have been for propriety’s sake.

This Archie realized quite regretfully. Still, she smiled as he turned to face her.

“Perhaps it’s simply that I prefer to find you vexing,” Max theorized. Reaching out to cup her cheek, his thumb rubbed her skin, keeping to habit. “Perhaps the anger allows me some distance from what I truly feel.”

“In the time I’ve known you,” Archie said, “you’ve only ever been angry. About everything. Bein’ placed with the plebeians in Edgewater; about your past, and your parents. Now you’re pissed at the church, which I must say is a very nice shade on you.” She grinned at his tersed brow. “Plus you’re pissed at me. If it ain’t anger, Maximillian, what else have you got?”

“And if it isn’t fear masquerading as sympathy,” Max replied smoothly, “what have you got?”

Archie grinned cheekily. “I can have both.” Moving closer, she came flush against Max’s chest, one hand resting on his as it gripped his cane. “I can be afraid of what I feel, too,” she breathed across Max’s neck.

The lights in the room were low. They deepened the hazel of his eyes to brown—just brown, warm and dark. Roving for that scent of creams, cosmetics, and lovely soap, Archie inhaled with shaking breath, aware that Max was not so easily moved as her.

“We’ve been here before,” he warned. “And our… discourse only goes so far.”

“Yeah, but it’s seen us to some pretty swell places,” Archie said wryly. “Your anger…” Her hand flattened against his lower stomach, her fingers inching down. “My sympathies.”

“Nng.” Max’s eyes snapped shut, mustering strength-of-will. Head tilting, he told them both, “that isn’t good enough—not anymore,” before pulling away and hoofing for the door, his stride quick, healthy, and confident.

“If you wish to return to Monarch, you may,” he said, pausing to look at her, as she shivered where she stood. “If you want me to stay away, I will.” Turning, he added over his shoulder, quietly, “something has to give, Archimedes.”

Archie ran to him. Wrapping her arms around his middle, she held Max, in the hopes he wouldn’t, in turn, hold her accountable for all her griefs. “There’s something to be said about predictability, ain’t there?” She demanded desperately. “The planets boot it around the sun time and time again. So can’t we come back to this?” She held him a little harder.

Both of Max’s hands gripped his cane, his body swaying despite the hold she had on it.

“Not if it leads to another argument. Not if it leads to my hurting you. Or your lying to me.” He tensed. “I’ve been

lied to enough in my life as it is.”

Ice crept through her veins, following the blood flow to a heart which cracked. An imprudent nature caused blame to aim towards the church, first, but, yes, Archie remembered soon those lies of her own forging.

Pulling away, she went to where she might take Max’s face in both palms. Opening her mouth to speak, Max looked away, knowing, most like, what were to come. Archie had always been a woman free with her affection, though frugal with the truth, and there sat their great difference: in the matter of diction.

Their definitions varied, as their personal dictionaries were not written from the same stock.

“Max, look at me,” Archie said. He wouldn’t. He did allow himself, however, to rest his face in her hands, eyes closed warily.

“I want to say it and mean it,” Archie swore, appreciating his lashes. “And I want to say it and not do something two seconds on the after that makes it seem empty.”

“Are you trying to say that you’re sorry?” Max asked, blearily eyeing her. “Or are you trying to say that you”—he huffed doubtfully—“love me?”

“I don’t know,” Archie admitted, preferring pretty stupidity to falsifying. It was their definitions of love that had never been the same. “I’m saying… Max, I’m trying to say that…”

With nowhere else to set her sights, her gaze drifted towards the bassinet. Something—she didn’t know what—struck her, and sucked her into this fanciful image where it might be the three of them.

“It’s you.” Archie turned back to him. “It’s always been you.”

Max nodded. It was new—it was an acceptance he didn’t seem obligated to explain. Or perhaps Archie no longer felt needs to interpret. Without a swig of Level Head (or its slower-acting, longer-lasting tablet form), her mind favored wading through what was rather than swimming through scant specifics, comparing every damn thing in her life, or Max’s, to some personal, historical tragedy.

Max nodded—and he accepted. And that was all it need be. But Archie still had no idea what he thought of the baby.

“She’s really very quiet, isn’t she?” Max wondered, startling Archie from her not-thoughts, their bodies continuing to press together. He’d followed their conversation to its inevitable, swaddled conclusion.

“Way I understand it, that might not be such a good thing.” Archie noticed a few new white hairs at his temple. “You want to hold her?”

Max’s chest swelled. Yet, still, it paled to the way his hand clutched at his cane, this being but the barest of examples of how his body now frustrated his wishes. His shame was transparent, as was his dread.

“I’ll bring her to you,” Archie offered, touching his cheek.

As Max sat on the couch, cradling the child shifting with listless life, Archie watched, lighting a cigarette that she stubbed out within seconds. This was as automatic as it had been when she’d struck the match; her body was going through the motions, as her mind absorbed utterly in the scene before her. Max weren’t an expert in baby-holding; he weren’t so savvy in supporting the delicate, neither. But he made do.

More likely than not, it was his darling stupefaction gettin’ both of them through it, of course. Because Max was gobsmacked.

Archie was about to formally start fretting—she catered no inklings towards Max’s notions regarding kids-raising, nor even where they stood in regards to each other—however, Max looked to Archie with such gentle intentions that fretting fell far on the backburner.

“She needs a name, Archimedes,” Max informed her. His certitude was comical.

“Oh, I’ve been calling her Millie,” Archie replied. She added, just as casually, “after her daddy.”

Max’s eyes rounded; his posture stiffened; his jaw dropped a smidgeon. Not because of the admission; not because someone was calling him a father, for Archie was hum-dingin’ sure that Ellie Fenhill hadn’t employed any such jargon when spilling those exceptionally fragile beans.

No, it weren’t that he was furnishing the DeSoto family-tree with more foliage that struck him. What surprised Max was that anyone would find him so grand as to cherish this child with his name.

“After her father?”

Archie nodded, giggling at the joy in his voice. As Max went back to looking at the little girl in his hands, Archie repeated, grinning, “yeah. After her father.”

#the outer worlds #tow fanfic #archimedes quaice #maximillian desoto #i lost steam in the last quarter not gonna lie #and i'm too tired to edit #also i hate that banner because his face is fucking hard but i think archie turned out cute #also i've already started re-writing the end skdksfjker

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allthingsdarkanddirty · 1 year

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✯✯✯ NEW RELEASE ✯✯✯

Security Threat by Evan Grace

I’ve always sworn off relationships, in my line of work it’s safer for me not to be distracted. Plus, it doesn’t help that I’ve watched each of my co-workers almost lose the women they love. I’m not going to do that to some poor woman.

Of course, that’s until I do my buddy a favor, picking up his sister and niece from the airport. The moment I lay eyes on Millie Buckley and her daughter Joanna I’m in love. Except I resist the pull that’s there and do all I can to fight it.

Marcus Johnson is the first man that has made my heart race in a long time. He’s sweet, kind, a little rough around the edges, and good to my daughter. I know he feels the same attraction I do, but he doesn’t act on it.

We finally give into our feelings, and it is everything we both could’ve hoped for, but things aren’t that easy for us.

Someone is watching our every move and danger lurks around us just waiting for the opportunity to strike, but Marcus will stop at nothing to protect us. The real question is, who will protect him?

@AuthorEvanGrace

Hosted by @LadyAmbersReviewsPR & @CravePublishing

#SecurityThreat #NewRelease #OneClick #EvanGrace #NowLive #SecurityRomance #LadyAmbersPR #MustRead #Romance #RomanticSuspense #SuspensefulRomance #Bookstagram #BookBlogger #Bookish #RogueSecurityAndInvestigation #CravePublishing

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andy-clutterbuck · 3 years

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This Life | 2x01 | Last Tango in Southwark

#vaccine side effects are kicking my butt so i've just lounged around all day.....and did this #Andrew Lincoln #This Life #Egg Cooke #*#ec #Sugarbutt 🍑💖#🎵 wrap your arms around me baby boy 🎵#i would have supported his adorable ass i don't even care #stop rubbing your chest #can't believe i actually made big this life gifs #excuse me but The Nose™#one day your lips will not make me want to bust through a wall like the koolaid man #but today is not that day #you could be squishing him and kissin that adorable face and showing people how pretty your boyfriend is.....or you could be milly #always available to fight Milly #because she's the worst #look at those fluffy tousled curls #actual footage of the ceiling of the sistine chapel #*michelangelo comes back to haunt me*#that lil kiss tho #look at those beautiful baby eye crinkles THE SUN #also now considering doing a side by side of this and rick in 6x15 🤔

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marauderundercover · 2 years

Text

How We Fell: Ch. 6

Day 6: Butterflies and Tea

AO3

WARNING, mentions of child abuse (and some wounds from that including burns and bruises). There's nothing super graphic, just warning you ahead of time that it is mentioned in the chapter.

For those of you in the US, the National Child Abuse Hotline is 1-800-422-4453 This number is available for texts or calls.

***

In hindsight, Marinette should have expected it. After all, people weren’t immune to negative emotions. And she would never wish that kind of mental strain on someone. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that on the third day of Gotham Academy being students at Lycée Carnot, there was a school based akuma. Still didn’t make it any less frustrating though. Especially since Damian wouldn’t let her out of his sight.

“Damian-” She tries for what feels like the millionth time. They’d been hiding out in an empty classroom since the whole fiasco started. Marinette’s entire body buzzed with the extra adrenaline begging to be used, to do something. Something other than sit around and wait. This was an akuma that appeared to have some kind of strategy. Or, that’s what it looked like from here at least. It was always hard to tell from afar, unless they were a minion maker. Luckily, this one didn’t seem to be a minion maker, but that didn’t mean she could risk getting in their way. Especially since she wasn’t transformed.

“Marinette, you are not armed. The villain has a weapon, running where they can see you is not wise.” He chastises, frowning at her. Marinette suppresses the urge to groan or roll her eyes. She knows that Damian was just looking out for her, trying to be a good friend. But she really wished that he hadn’t picked this particular moment. Suddenly, a huge piece of rubble comes flying at them. Marinette’s eyes widen and she pushes Damian roughly, jumping back herself so that neither would be crushed even though they were now separated.

“You’re welcome.” Tikki mutters. Marinette quirks an eyebrow. It seemed more like destruction than creation, which meant that Tikki had just relied on their good luck to accomplish the separation. Lovely. Marinette was sure that there would be no repercussions for that later on.

“Marinette? Are you okay?” Damian calls, his voice muffled by the debris.

“I’m fine. You?” She calls.

“Fine.” He replies shortly. Marinette winces, feeling slightly bad. While she’d jumped back and shoved him forward, she’d had the good fortune to not be boxed in. Damian, on the other hand… Glancing around and deeming the area safe, Marinette quietly calls on her transformation before rushing after the fleeing akuma. Where was Chat Noir?

“Afternoon, LB.” Carapace calls, a wide smile on his face as he rushes onto the scene. Marinette just shakes her head fondly. Sure, she’d always been close to Nino, but it was different as Ladybug and Carapace. Not a bad different though. Sure, she couldn’t be the Marinette to his Nino, not while she had the mask on. But they still joked, and teased, and trusted each other with their lives. It was part of being on a hero team. You had to trust your partners. Otherwise, you might as well sign your own death certificate.

“Any sign of Chat?” She calls back, the worry slinking into her soul. He shakes his head, and Marinette makes a mental note to try a little harder to contact him after this fight. It wasn’t like him to miss patrol, or fights, and he had been all week. “Looks like it’s just us then. Any idea what happened?” She adds. She didn’t know the girl who had been akumatized. Surprisingly, it hadn’t been anyone from her class. Or anyone from Gotham Academy. That had honestly surprised her. She’d kind of expected Damian to be akumatized. As much as she cared for him, he seemed to hold onto negative emotions for much longer than anyone else she knew. But the girl who had been akumatized was younger than Marinette. And blonde. But that was all she knew.

“Her name is Millie. She’s- she was akumatized after being pestered about some bruises. Classmates asked her if she needed to talk to someone or get some help, and she became upset and started acting as though she’d been cornered.” Carapace explains, making Marinette’s stomach clench. She despised people who thought that hurting their child was an acceptable form of parenting. As much as she knows she shouldn’t, she almost hopes that the girl, whose emotions had been too much and crumbled away leaving a villain in her wake, makes it home to her parents. Almost hopes that she’s able to at least make them a little scared, give them a taste of their own medicine. Marinette pushes the toxic thoughts out of her head, instead focusing back on the battle in front of her. And the long battle with Child Protective Services that she knew was coming. There was no way Marinette could just stand aside and let this girl get hurt again. Even if she didn’t know her.

“Any known powers?” Ladybug asks.

“She has some kind of weapon. I’ve seen it used to whack people, but I’ve also seen it completely make them disappear.” He says. Marinette frowns. That made things difficult.

Nodding, Marinette lets out a short sigh. They could do this. Her plan would go much smoother with Chat Noir present, but they would have to deal with it. She definitely needed to talk to him later.

“Okay, so here’s the plan….”

---

With a stoney face, Marinette watches as the little white butterfly flutters away. Something so small hurts so many people. Every time. Shoving down the impending spiral, she turns to the girl who had been akumatized. Marinette was disgusted to see that the discolored long sleeves that had been part of the girl’s villain transformation were hiding the true horror underneath. Her arms were covered in bruises, all of them in varying degrees of healing. Marinette’s stomach flips as she spots what could only be burn marks. They were too precise, too careful to be accidental burns from a curling wand or flat iron. Eyes darting back up to the girl’s face, Marinette gives her a small smile. It was the kind of smile a hero always gives someone who’d been caught up in an attack. One that told them that they weren’t at fault for what happened, and that the hero was there for them.

“Hi Millie. Would you like to talk about what happened?” Ladybug asks softly. The younger girl shakes her head, but Marinette’s eyes narrow in on the tears threatening to fall. “Could I hug you?” Ladybug adds. The girl freezes, and Marinette worries that she crossed a boundary, when the girl throws herself forward and wraps her arms around her, sobs shaking her body. Marinette swallows back her own tears, instead wrapping the girl in a hug that, hopefully, gave her some comfort. Some sense of safety.

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” Millie’s voice is soft, almost nonexistent. But Marinette hears it, feels her heart clench.

“Don’t worry kiddo, we’ll figure something out.” Ladybug says gently. In all reality, Millie was probably only a year or two younger than Marinette. But shaking in her arms, she looked much younger. And Marinette knew, in that moment, that she would do whatever it took to get the girl out of her situation. To get her placed with someone who was going to take care of her, and treat her like a child should be treated. No child deserves to be scared to go home.

“LB, I’ve recharged. You wanna go talk to the police? Get things moving?” Carapace asks, softly whispering into her ear. Marinette nods, appreciating the fact that he whispered it. She didn’t need Millie panicking again, and mentioning the police was a sure way for that to happen.

“Millie, I need to go talk to some people to get this figured out for you, okay?” Ladybug says softly. Millie pulls away from the hug, frowning at her. “I’m going to leave you with Carapace, is that okay?” She adds. Millie glances at Carapace before relaxing slightly. She nods, and Marinette is barely able to stop the sigh of relief from falling out of her mouth. It was times like this that she was glad that she had given Nino the turtle Miraculous all those years ago. He had always protected her on the playground when they were little, and he continued to protect people now as Carapace. Giving him a firm nod, and a glance at Millie, Marinette walks towards the police, ready to raise hell if it means getting the girl into a new home.

---

Dropping into a seat in the school library was the last thing Marinette had wanted to do. But Damian had cited needing to work on a paper, (and the whole she stopped answering during the akuma attack so he had thought something bad had happened to her, which led to her having to explain that she’d ran to look for help and he’d launched into a rant about her not caring about her safety…again) and asked if she would join him. She’d agreed, because he was her friend and she loved him. But if she was being honest, she was exhausted. She didn’t feel like sitting in a library right now. She just wanted a nice cup of relaxing tea and her chaise.

“Marinette, are you okay?” Damian asks, his eyebrows scrunched slightly. Marinette simply nods, pencil barely skimming the paper as she haphazardly designs some new hoodies.

“‘M fine.” She mutters. The sound of a chair scraping as it’s shoved, makes her glance up. She blinks in surprise at Damian’s standing form.

“Let’s go.” He says, pushing in his chair and grabbing her bag. She frowns, but stands to follow him anyway.

“Go where?” She asks. “I thought you had a paper.”

“I will admit, the paper was not important. In fact, I was already done with it. I did, however, want to make sure that you were okay after that attack.” He says, an unidentifiable edge in his voice.

“I really am sorry about that. I just-” She starts, but his shaking head makes her pause.

“You do not have to apologize. I was just worried. We are friends, after all. Are we not?” He asks, lips twitching up slightly. Marinette feels her entire face heat up in delight. He had never said that they were friends out loud. The warmth that flooded her entire body was well worth the wait though. After all, Damian did not have many friends. He’d told her that, time and time again when she was trying to get to know him. To be one of the few lucky enough that he considered a friend, it meant the world to her.

“Of course we are.” Marinette says with a bright smile. Damian nods, an uncharacteristically soft smile on his face for just a flicker of a second. And oh, in that second, Marinette wishes that she had eidetic memory so that she could always have that smile. Already it had left its mark on her soul. Silently, Marinette made a goal. One that may be impossible, but she wanted to see that smile again. For longer this time. She wanted to be able to relish in the smile, to enjoy it and the warmth that it brought.

“Good. Then, as your friend, I am taking you to a cafe. You are obviously exhausted and stressed from the earlier ordeal. You need a cup of mint tea.” Damian insists. Marinette grins, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering around with a vengeance. He’d remembered, that while most people she knew preferred the calming effect of chamomile tea, she preferred mint tea to help her relax.

“Thank you Damian.” She says softly. He tries to simply shrug it off, but she speeds up a little so that she can move in front of him. She knew he didn’t really care for random grabs or touching, so she didn’t grab his arm to give him a reassuring squeeze. Even if she wanted to. “I’m serious Damian. You’re one of my best friends, and I appreciate you.” She says, determined to make the boy with the hidden smile feel loved and wanted.

“And I you.”

Permanent tag list: @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess @crazylittlemunchkin

Story tag list: @kking13 @jayjayspixiepop @ritacrow-blog @fangirlingfanatic @basenikon @toodaloo-kangaroo @maribat-calendar-events @hammalammadamdam

#maribat #maribat fic #maribat fanfic #maribat fanfiction #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat damian wayne #maribat nino lahiffe #maribat december #daminette #daminettedec21 #maribat ao3 fic

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black-mesa-slut-voice · 3 years

Photo

Domesticated headcrab adopts!

More info, rules + availability below the cut + okay to rb!

Hello! If you’re here, you’re most likely interested in owning a pet headcrab of your own! While you can always find a specific one of your liking, it’s always a good idea to turn to adoption to help out headcrabs in need (and your local artist)!

If you’re serious about adoption, I recommend you glance over Your Beginner’s Guide to Headcrab Domestication first!

So what is this, really?

If you’re really not sure how adopts work, it’s simple. I have little premade, pre-designed characters that you can purchase, and then they become your characters! You can then use them however you’d like; they’re now your OCs!

Obviously, I don’t own the rights to headcrabs in general- they still belong to Valve- but I sort of have the rights to my domesticated headcrab headcanons, so these specific designs will belong to you!

Okay, I’ll bite. What’re the deets?

Each character is $15 USD as a base! For that, you’ll get all rights to the design. You can rename, redesign, gift, or alter the characters to your liking after you buy them. I’ll give you the large, transparent image of your crab as well! They’re all yours!

For $25 USD, I’ll make a nice, fancy little ref sheet with at least a few cleaned, colored sketches to go along with it! Not only that, but any designs that you’ve bought from me are always 10% off if you ever commission me to draw them again!

Are there any rules?

Yep! Here’s the rules: - Prices are listed in USD! I use paypal, and paypal only for the most part. - First come, first serve, unfortunately. - You MUST pay before you receive any of the rights/images included! - Once purchased, you are free to tweak the design as you please! This includes the name and lore- they’re just fun little suggestions, laid out in the format of an adoption center. You don’t have to follow them at all! - Trades and resells are allowed as long as you sell it for as much as you bought it or less - Please credit me for the design if asked!

Alright! Give me the crabs!

“PRIMROSE” || SOLD Fawned ash standard Primrose is a spoiled little crab who was owned by a sweet little old lady who has since passed away. With nobody in her family wanting to take her, she's now looking for a new home. She's used to being dressed and wearing fang caps! She's a bit spoiled and picky with her food, so looking for someone who doesn't mind giving this little lady a lot of love and attention!

“MILLIE” || SOLD Grey capped Volkov Millie is a shy, albeit feisty Volkov who was rescued from a house that was hosting illegal fighting rings in their backyard. Her left talon and leftmost mandible were infected and had to be amputated, which causes her a bit of difficulty moving around- but she's still fit and spry! Looking for a home who doesn't mind a somewhat skittish crab, after everything she's gone through- who can help bring her out of her shell!

“MEATLOAF” || SOLD Chocolate ticked standard Meatloaf is a large, chunky crab with an interesting orange spotted tint coloration. They're a bit... food motivated, to say the least. A lot of care has to be put into watching them, as they're surprisingly smart when they put their mind into getting into things- and will eat anything they can fit into their mouth. Looking for someone with childproofed cabinets who wants a very friendly and intelligent crab!

“MILK” || SOLD Black and white Saddlehorn Milk is a standard Saddlehorn who was brought in because the former owner was unable to keep up with vet costs. Milk has a lot of internal problems, and had to undergo some intense treatment, and to be kept on a very specific diet. Looking for someone to help Milk maintain this diet and strict regimen and checkups until they feel better!

“CHOCOLATE CHIP” || SOLD Chocolate Siamese nubbed Chocolate Chip is a sneaky little crab, surprisingly small for their age. They were found wandering the streets, and it's presumed they got out of their previous home- which is most likely true, considering their track record of weaseling out of their enclosure! Looking for someone who doesn't mind a very intelligent, active crab, and has lots of time and attention to give!

“PEACHY” || SOLD Snowshoe flaxen standard Peachy came from a well-off home who once again bought a young, fancy breed- and ended up de-beaking him and then neglecting to give him proper attention and care. They were passed on to a few homes because of their rather shy behavior from lack of attention, and are looking to finally get a forever home with someone who wants to bring out the sweet, caring side we know is in this crab! He's de-beaked, with no apparent health concerns visible.

“SHOOMI” || SOLD Fawned flaxen pancake Shoomi is easily one of the most well behaved crabs in our care! They’re extremely docile and good with kids as well! They don’t mind being dressed up or having stickers and such, hence the googly eyes. They’re the only one who didn't particularly hate things being stickied to them. Perfect for a home with kids!

“STACY Q” || SOLD False poison Stacy Q is a false poison, who is superbly friendly, albeit... extremely lazy, and more than a little bit hefty. She's perfectly healthy, however! She came from a home that thought they would be 'cool' and 'scary', and was dissapointed when she just sat around all day. She would be a wonderful match for someone who doesn’t mind a somewhat sedentary crab who doesn’t need a lot of attention!

“GUMPY” || SOLD Olive marbled hunchback Gumpy is a hunchback with a bit of an attitude problem. He was part of a nice lineage, but he didn't get along with other headcrabs at all and was given up on. With a little bit of time he might warm up to people, but is probably best left without any other crabs or pets in the house.

“MISS SASHA” || ON HOLD Golden Bata Miss Sasha is a very old Bata, who was a winning showcrab in several runs- but as she got older her beautiful golden color began to fade, and so they took her out of competitions, and want to rehome her. She’s still very playful for her age, and loves to give and receive lots of attention. Good for someone who doesn't mind a sweet old crab who isn't very active anymore, but still has lots of love to give- and preferably can give lots of attention in return, as she gets sad when left alone.

“NGUNI“ || SOLD Fancy Saddlehorn Nguni is a very very unique Saddlehorn with a beautiful, very rare pattern- most likely a showbreed of some sort. However, she was found hit by a car, which mangled her right claw and left her with some scarring. Even more interestingly, despite her unique coloration, her previous owner can't be found, and isn't coming forward to any messaging. Enough time has passed that she's looking to be rehomed to someone who doesn't mind giving her her daily meds and making sure she doesn’t overexert her injured side!

“MAPLE” || SOLD Sorrel smoke pancake Maple is a feisty young crab, who was bought as a present for someone's child, since pancakes are known for their docility- only to find out that Maple was surprisingly aggressive for a pancake. They ended up having to rehome him, out of their children's newfound fear for headcrabs. Looking for someone who doesn't mind a bit of a feistyness in their crab and is willing to work with it to help curb their temper!

If you’re interested, DM me here on tumblr! If you’d like, you can ask for my discord and we can discuss details there as well.

#half life #headcrab #headcrabs #adopts #adopatables #headcrabguide #my art #feel free to rb! it would actually help a lot :'''#i was worried this would be weird since valve like. owns them but #i just like drawing crabs and my friends said i should sell em for like 15 bucks each and so. here i am!#i love them so much im kinda excited for this lol #headcrab adopts

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warsofasoiaf · 3 years

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I'd love to hear your thoughts about Cyberpunk 2077 when you are ready/have finished the game. Maybe besides the game itself you have an opinion about the crunch, bugs and general feeling of disappointment in a good portion of the fans

Sure thing. It’s going to be a long write-up and there are going to be spoilers, so you better believe that this is going to have a cut. Reader beware. For context, I have beat the game, and I played it on PC and only on PC.

I’ve been a fan of the cyberpunk genre for a long time. Transhuman and techno-utopian sci-fi always struck me the wrong way; that it was too optimistic and ignored a less savory element of human nature that simply would not go away with the advent of new technologies. While I only briefly dipped my toes in the water of the Cyberpunk tabletop game (I was always a bigger fan of Shadowrun), I did enjoy the genre and was eager to see a AAA cyberpunk game. I also really liked CD Projekt Red with what they did with RPG’s like the Witcher 3. Particularly when it came to the smaller sidequests, they really found a way to bring a lot of noir elements and hard-hitting character moments to the game, and I believed that it could translate very well into a cyberpunk game. After all, noir was a similar response to detective fiction to what the cyberpunk genre was to earlier elements of sci-fi. So I was quite optimistic when it came out. What we got was...well, it didn’t quite meet up with expectations.

There are some good things about the game. Assuming you have a beefy rig, PC cyberpunk looks pretty good. Not only does it look good, but it looks like the dismal 1980′s inspired future that had defined the genre, with its neon lights, omnipresent advertising to the point of satire (amphetamines are available from vending machines in a variety of flavors and commercials are completely ridiculous). The fixers are great examples of different cyberpunk archetypes like Regina Jones being a media or the Padre being an underclass civic leader looking to protect his community with a bit of a violent streak. Plenty of the characters had great personality, the nomads and Panam were enjoyable, Judy had a great questline that detailed optimism and bitter disappointment (and the character looks cool and is a bit of a cinnamon roll), River’s quest was a perfectly serviceable cop questline with enough horror elements, they were all fine. Keanu wasn’t a great voice actor, but he did serviceably and was apparently just wonderful with the staff, so I’m willing to cut him a pass. The level design can encourage a variety of different play styles, with attribute points opening up certain pathways. Given that it’s an open-world sandbox game, the goal should be to immerse yourself in the world, and touch on elements of cyberpunk as you go through the various quests, and you do see some of that. You see the gross exploitations of dolls in the sex trade when you go to Clouds, the bizarre elements of self-expression that new technologies can offer such as the twins in Kabuki, Pacifica is an abandoned recreation ground for the rich with the nice image of rotting Ferris wheels and abandoned malls, and you can see the divide between the have’s and have-not’s on full display both in the opening (compare and contrast the Street Kid with the Corpo beginnings) or take a look at the Peralez’s penthouse apartment versus Judy’s cramped digs. Honestly, one of my favorite things in the game were just the consumables to highlight the different food and drink available to the people of Night City. The heavy population means that foods like fried ants or locust pepperoni are common, amphetamines are available in a variety of flavors, and there are no less than 20 burrito vending machines on every street (the future is not all bad it seems). I like little worldbuilding moments like this in video games because it does give a sense of completion and immersion within the world. I honestly felt bad for Johnny Silverhand, because by the end of the game I had to be a bloated man-ball of Holobites Peach Pie and Cirrus Cola.

The game even took a few things that had aged poorly in the cyberpunk genre and improved them. The Mox is a gang specifically meant to stop the Disposable Sex Worker trope, it’s small and part of the reason it survives is that it’s small, but it offers a chance of improvement over the exploitation that the Tyger Claws offer. The cyberpyscho quest is probably the best one of this. Earlier Cyberpunk had cyberpsychosis as a serious concern directly correlated with how many implants you got. The Solo archetype even spoke about how you risk losing your humanity with your implants as you became stronger, better, faster. Even later iterations had depersonalization/derealization disorders as people who could see in the dark lost connection to those who couldn’t. A quick thought in our present though, changes this. My eyesight and hearing is just fine, but I don’t lose connection or common empathy with individuals who are blind or deaf. I have two arms and two legs and I have not lost empathy for amputees. Why then, would I lose empathy and connection with someone with average human eyesight after I get my eyes replaced and now I have the ability to see in the dark or have telescopic sight? The cyberpsycho quest actually took this concept to task; cyberpsychos around the city are seen as horrifying threats that need the high-threat response of MaxTac to deal with, but Regina is looking to see if she can cure cyberpsychosis. Mechanically, the cyberpsychos are boss-fights with elements of puzzle gameplay (how to handle the different skillsets that they have) and a bonus reward for non-lethal damage which rewards certain playstyle archetypes or prepwork for those who ensure that they have a non-lethal option. The information you find around each cyberpyscho showcase different problems in the target’s life, no real common thread or inciting incident that you can trace the onset of cyberpsychosis toward and identify a culprit. After you complete the quest, you learn the twist: there is no such thing as cyberpsychosis. Each of the targets were actually just experiencing different stressors within their lives, such as PTSD, losing their job, drug abuse, etc. and the breakdown is made much worse because these individuals have the ability to toss dumpsters like they were baseballs or pick the wings off a fly with a cybernetically enhanced brain with a .50 cal. Some of these individuals had terrible implant surgery done by bargain-basement ripperdocs and temporarily lost the ability to discern reality from fantasy, something that could easily be seen as a science fiction adaptation of temporary insanity brought on by a poor reaction to medicine. It’s backed up by the game too. V can fill every slot in their cyberware deck but never once experiences cyberpsychosis. Oda has ultra-legs and flaming-hot mantis blades and is in perfect control at every point in the game, even when he’s trying to jab those mantis blade through your sternum. Cyberpyschosis isn’t real, the irresponsible media just ran with it because fear sells. For all the flaws of the game, I respect the game for taking cyberpsychosis in that direction.

But for all those good things, the game couldn’t help but feel shallower than the Witcher 3. The side-gigs were formulaic to the point where they even led with a category. There were few twists and very little that was surprising. Exposition for these quests was limited to a short text dump and a minute voice-over. Night City was big but it was relatively sparse. NCPD never seemed to intervene in any crimes (giving the character the chance to do so) but every so often they were around a taped-off crime scene, giving a sense of inconsistency that hampered the world. While it was a bustling city, it felt empty, most of the people I saw on the street were meaningless, just NPC’s walking around to give a sense of activity. There was little in the way of things to see and experience that was unique or different about these NPC’s. They weren’t crowds I could hide in like Hitman, they didn’t have ambient dialogue that showcased something like the Witcher 3. Much like other open-world games, this sense of shallowness pervaded much of the empty space of the world; it was incredibly *big* but there was little in it. Much of the time I was driving or running through empty space that was completely worthless to me. Normal for city living, but all of that is wasted time going from point A to point B, and unlike the Witcher 3, there were no small in-game beats to help flesh it out or build it. I never had Millie from “Where the Wolf and Cat Play” give me a little picture, I never had people from a liberated village say “hey, look, it’s that guy Geralt, thanks for killing those harpies.” These were things that made the Witcher 3′s world really come alive. I didn’t have that, and I was left

Of course, we also have to handle the elephant in the room, and that was CDPR’s conduct both during production and after release. Crunch has become an increasingly common part of video game development and it’s not healthy to developers. CDPR had been called out on it once before, but it seemed there was little change in how that happens. I’m not quite sure if there’s anything we can do, and I’m sympathetic to the need to hit target deadlines to actually deliver a finished product, but there’s got to be a better way, whether that’s a change to the incentive structure, or something, because it’s hurting folks. I like games like Witcher 3 and Red Dead Redemption 2, but I understand that there was a real human cost to these masterpieces, and I wonder if there’s something we can do about that.

Similarly, what happened after launch was beyond terrible. The last-gen console version were simply not ready for release and shouldn’t have been released to the public. CDPR openly covered up this, by only previewing the PC version, they hid the fact that the game wasn’t ready, and they avoided delaying the last-gen console version because they were looking to capitalize on holiday sales. I’m sympathetic for the need to generate sales, but the flip of this is that you have to deliver the product you advertise, and for last-gen consoles, they didn’t do so. Bugs are one thing, these games are massive undertakings of interacting systems and bugs are inevitable; some of my favorite games were buggy at release, notably Fallout: New Vegas, Witcher 3, and so on. But this went past bugs and into malpractice and deception, and that’s something that’s less forgivable. I personally had few bugs that were out-and-out game breaking but things not loading, quests bugging out, floating bags and other physics wonkiness, all of that hurt the immersion. I’d be more willing to forgive the game without the deception; I can laugh at bugs but not at ignoring quality control to get holiday sales instead of delivering a quality product. Consumers are angry at CDPR and have every reason to be, and I’m one of them. I can express my disappointment and I will do so, we need developers to stop these practices and the only way we can do that is through our wallets and words. I’m not going to tell anyone not to buy CDPR games, that’s entirely your decision because I’m a radical individualist. But I am going to say that they’ve burned a lot of their good karma with me; credibility is a hard beast to gain back. Much like other big name developers, CDPR has hurt their standing in my eyes. Whether that means I need to resort to going to indie games for a little bit or something else, I don’t know, but it’s rough. I liked CDPR and wanted to believe it’d be different, but it seems to not be the case.

Overall, I think it’s another AAA open-world game only made better by my love of the genre, and that stings. I enjoyed some aspects of it, and I hope that through Free DLC, patching, and other good deeds, the game can redeem itself and stimulate new love of the genre. But CDPR needs to do a lot more than that to win back my affection. If anyone has anything specifically that they want to know about the game, such as talk about the main story, individual characters, or so on, just ask.

Thanks for the question, Khef.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

#video game reviews #cyberpunk 2077

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insidiousclouds-2 · 4 years

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I crave soft fell interactions!! I’m not quite sure how to put it in imagine for the ship but a snippet of Vermillion and Scarlet(Thats what you call them right?) being soft in private. Maybe a hug from behind while Scarlet is doing something. Plz and thank you, sorry if this is a weird ask and not in the boundaries of what you asked for.

((Oh good lord anon, this is my ship!!! You do not understand how much I love this ship- god.. there’s gotta be a better name for the ship. I’ll come up with one someday. It's just so cute!!!! Also, I specifically said that all ships are welcome. Of course this fits the criteria.))

((I’m sorry it got slightly angsty ;w;))

He isn’t quite sure why he woke up, if he had a dream he surely won’t be able to remember it. He’s been sleeping less and less these days, but at least he hasn’t remembered any of the dreams.. or Asgore forbid, nightmares.

Scar opens the fridge, the light produced from the door the only source of sight in the darkness of his silent house. He reaches for his favorite mustard bottle and knocks his head back to squirt the sour goop onto his extended tongue. The zing of the condiment spreading through his mouth and waking him up better than any coffee ever could have. He reaches up to rub his tired socket, guess he’s going to be staying up for a while longer...

The half eaten hot dog that laid unwrapped on top of one of his brother's numerous containers of spaghetti catches his eye.

He hasn’t been the most consistent with eating, mostly snacks here and there, and nothing truly nutritious enough to be counted as a meal. So the hot dog will have to do for his nightly meal. As much as he loves his brother, and loves to support him, there is no force in the entire underground that could force him to eat that so called ‘spaghetti.’

The hot dog is drowned in the mustard just the way he likes it. Scar raises the hot dog to his mouth, the sharp fumes of the mustard filling his senses and-

The light in the kitchen is flicked on.

Caught mid bite he stares at his brother in the doorway to the kitchen. Hadn’t even noticed him coming down the stairs... He looks absolutely dreadful.

“milly...?”

Scarlet’s nickname for his brother, as much as he despises it outwardly, they both know he adores the nickname.

Bags under Vermillion’s sockets speak louder than the silence between the brothers. He reaches for the coffee maker, turning away from his brother as he brews a pot for himself. Zoning out as he watches the pot slowly come to a boil, he barely seems there. His lights unfocused, practically giving him double vision but he hardly seems to care.

Scarlet sighs, no words needed to understand his brother just woke up from a nightmare. Again.

Shoving the mustard drenched hot dog into his mouth, he wanders over to his brother, nonchalantly leaning against the counter with his elbows resting behind him.

Silence fills the room. Tiny sounds becoming the only thing occupying the brother’s minds. The hum and bubbling of the coffee maker, the slight buzzing from electrical parts whirring and heating up the stagnant water. The buzz of the cheap electrical lights from above, being all they could afford, even with all of Scar’s odd jobs. Even wind outside bashing against the sturdy house, giving away that a snowstorm is soon to come.

The peace is soul wrenching.

There is barely a day when either of the brothers experience peace. Only in the wee hours of the morning and even then peace rarely lasts. From a frantic knock at the door to an angry call to arms, peace is something treasured, and far too sparse.

“did..”

Scarlet interrupts the silence, finding his voice far too loud compared to the peace they had just moments ago. He sighs heavily and turns to his brother, now staring at him, neither fully awake.

“did you.. have a nightmare...?”

Vermillion’s tired, previously unreadably expression crumples as he reaches for his brother. His arms wrapping around him as his skull hides into the crook of Scarlet’s neck, who is already enveloping his brother in a warm hug.

Silence falls around them once again, interrupted by shaky breaths once and a while from either brother.

It seemed like they stood there for hours, holding each other, barely a whisper exchanged before Scarlet finally decides they both should sleep. Morning hours are never kind to the mind, especially four AM thoughts.

Clutching onto his brother tightly, his claws nearly digging into Ver’s night shirt, he teleports just above the cushiony pillows of his race car bed. They both fall with each other, but Vermillion has done this a thousand times with his brother, normally he would scold him but.. Tonight he is far too tired.

“Y...Yes.” His scratchy voice makes it difficult to speak, especially since he hasn’t slept well in the past couple of nights. “Yes I had a nightmare.”

Nodding in sympathy, Scarlet cradles his brother’s head against his chest, turning as they both tangle their legs together. Ver’s arm draped over his brother as their chests rise and fall in unison.

“do you want to hear a story?”

It’s how they always passed the time. Got over uncomfortable feelings. Neither good with confronting them directly so.. It was always Scarlet who told his brother’s stories, no matter how old either of them grew. He never ran out of stories.

“Sure.”

Scar draws in a deep breath wracking his tired mind of a story. He always winged it but tonight is really going to be a doozy.

“alright..once upon a time there lived a prince. he was a handsome fellow, strong and courageous. no one could match him in battle in any form. whether it be wits or sword.”

He pauses to gather up the next lines.

“being so awesome came with a price. everyone relied on him, enemies came from afar to find his weaknesses and take him down. he barely had a moments rest. it wore the prince out having to be always available. barely a moments time to himself amongst the war and fighting.”

Scar scratches his jaw stuck on the next part. He has the happy ending in mind but now he needs to get to that part.

“peace never seemed like an option. till one day a diplomat came through. not well known in any sorts but their words calmed the stormy souls of those living in the kingdom. they met with everyone and eventually came up to the prince. the prince didn’t trust them, not one bit. too many have come in an attempt to take his life. he challenged them to a duel but the diplomat surprised him. instead of fighting, they flirted.”

He laughed a little.

“the prince was bested by not someone who fought but by someone who showed mercy. he looked onto his people to see peace along the land where there had been strife. it was confusing and terrifying..to see everyone getting along. but the diplomat did it. they went on to talk to the king and the world was no longer kill or be killed. weak monsters could go out without fear of being slaughtered. chatter filled the streets instead of swords clashing and screams. the prince had no idea how they did it.”

Scar gently strokes his brothers skull.

“the prince had their first morning without being interrupted. able to drink coffee while gazing out the window onto his kingdom. for once..he had no worries. the prince had to know how the diplomat quelled the souls of everyone. he approached them after getting ready and demanded their secrets. the diplomat gave a small chuckle and smiled up at the prince. “mercy and kindness.” is all they told him. having a twinkle in their eyes. the prince didn’t quite get it but he swore to understand how to resolve things like the diplomat did. from that day forth peace stayed in the kingdom. the kind and prince ruling with a kinder grip and strife was rarely seen. each morning the prince got to get up without a frantic knock on his door and enjoy a cup of joe. taking in the serenity until he goes to travel with the diplomat once more. listening and learning while having fun….the end.”

Small beads of sweat dot his forehead. Hoping that the story was good.

Vermillion smiles, his nightmare all forgotten as he leans up to kiss his brother’s jaw, earning a flustered chuckle from Scarlet. Both of them shifting their positions as Ver lays across Scar, nuzzling him softly. Tiredness gripping his soul as he finally feels comfortable enough to sleep.

“Thank you... that was perfect.”

“anything for my bro.”

“Good night, Sans... I love you.”

“heh.. love ya too, paps.”

#skel.imagines #fellcest #fontcest #underfell #vermillion papyrus #scarlet sans #long post #kind of went a little overboard with this #and asked my friend for some help on the story #they're a master at writing #hope this is what you wanted ;w;#i am soft for this ship #it's the cutest ever #ask

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medea10 · 3 years

Text

My Review of Trigun

How did I get into this anime? Let’s just say this was one of those animes that used to air on Saturday nights back in the day that I would every now and then come across while waiting for either Full Metal Alchemist, InuYasha, or Cowboy Bebop to air. But I never did watch a full episode or know a damn thing about this anime. So I’m just jumping into this anime blindfolded. All I know is that this was Johnny Yong Bosch’s first anime role.

Who is Vash the Stampede?

A frequent question that comes up throughout the series! Rumor has it that he wears a long, red trench coat and sports a Mohawk hairstyle. Some say he’s a notorious lecher. Many recount him shooting up their villages to a pile of rubble just for the heck of it. He has quite the reputation as he has a $$60,000,000,000 bounty on his head and is often known as the “Humanoid Typhoon”.

In reality, Vash the Stampede is…a bit of a dingus. He just happens to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and things kinda get out of hand. But that doesn’t stop two insurance agents (Milly Thompson and Meryl Stryfe) from following him around to confirm Vash’s identity and keep his actions to a minimum. At first, it’s hard to tell if he’s a stupid-genius or just flighty and gets lucky one too many times. But when shit goes down, don’t be surprised when you see this doofus get serious.

BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: Okay, what sad company did this use to belong to, Geneon, Bandai, or ADV Films? Oh, Geneon! That means good voice actors from L.A. put in really shitty roles. On the contrary, this was a fairly decent English dub. And on a severely positive note, this was indeed Johnny Yong Bosch’s very first anime role (and a main role at that). This was like fresh off his time as a Power Ranger! And I gotta give props for giving this guy a chance at voice acting. This role was the launching point to what has been a very successful career for Bosch. As for the sub, let’s just say I’m happy any time I get to hear Hiromi Tsuru in something besides Dragon Ball. Here’s what you might recognize these folks from.

JAPANESE CAST: *Vash is played by Masaya Onosaka (known for Bill on Pokemon, Isaac on Baccano, Jadeite on Sailor Moon, Kero on Cardcaptor Sakura, Leeron on Gurren Lagann, France on Hetalia, and Spandam on One Piece)

*Meryl is played by Hiromi Tsuru (known for Bulma on DBZ, Ukyo on Ranma ½, Yubel on YGO GX, and Mika on Gravitation) [R.I.P.]

*Milly is played by Satsuki Yukino (known for Kagome on InuYasha, Mion/Shion on Higurashi, Tae on Gintama, Amakata on Free!, Hiiragi on Natsume Yuujinchou, Mutsumi on Love Hina, and Yoruichi on Bleach)

ENGLISH CAST: *Vash is played by Johnny Yong Bosch (known for Ichigo on Bleach, Lelouch on Code Geass, Makoto on Free!, Izaya on Durarara, Artemis on Sailor Moon redub, Koizumi on Haruhi Suzumiya, and Yukio on Blue Exorcist)

*Meryl is played by Dorothy Elias-Fahn (known for Kaoru on Rurouni Kenshin, Naru on Love Hina, Tomoe on Rozen Maiden, Hakuei on Magi, Houki on Fushigi Yugi, and Amane on Tenchi Muyo GXP)

*Milly is played by Lia Sargent (known for Dorothy on The Big O and Judy on Cowboy Bebop)

FAVORITE CHARACTER: Milly! I don’t need a reason, it’s Milly!

SHIPPING: I didn’t really start thinking about shipping until more than halfway into this series. I thought there might be something between Vash and Meryl, but then again maybe not! Then I saw the backstory of Vash’s “younger days” and falling for the one woman who showed him compassion.

Yes, this is the same woman we consistently see in Vash’s flashbacks, Rem. Ooh boy, it’s one of those stories! So yeah, never mind my thinking with Vash x Meryl ever happening. I feel like Vash will mourn Rem’s death for a long time that I don’t think the whole thing with Meryl will ever work.

And as for Wolfwood x Milly…

FUUUUUUUCK! WHY DID YOU RUIN THIS CUTE COUPLE?!

MILLY WAS HEART-BROKEN!

…At least she got to have one night of passion with Wolfy-boy before the unthinkable happened.

THAT DARN CAT: If you watched this series, you might have noticed a little black cat spotted in nearly every episode. It’s there in the opening theme. It’s there in random places throughout the series. It’s there in the ending theme. What’s up with this cat? Well, there are a lot of theories surrounding this particular cat (or Kuroneko). Some say it’s really Rem inside that cat since you see it in literally every episode around Vash. Others say it’s because the creator of Trigun wanted to just mess with your minds with the kitty walking around in random places and towns. Seriously, it will always appear in every new town Vash and the gang comes across! As an avid cat enthusiast, I’m fine with whatever the result. Just as long as no harm comes to the little Kuroneko.

HALFWAY POINT: Halfway into the series we notice something more when it comes to Mr. Vash the Stampede. First of all, those horrifying scars all over his body! Second, that mysterious girl he often thinks about. I mean, we see flashes of her in the opening sequence. And third, the reason why he never kills. Vash has the ability of causing so much damage when pushed to a breaking point. One of the many reasons why he’s known as the “humanoid typhoon”! And that was perfectly shown when Vash chases the residents out of a town (so there would be no casualties), totally demolished the town during a fight, and made an indent on the moon!

But the story takes a sharp-left turn into WTF territory when we learn about WHAT exactly Vash is. Vash is a plant. Vash also has a brother named Knives. And while Vash has a mentality that all beings have a right to live, Knives has a “kill them all and let God sort them out” point of view. Now the existence of Vash and Knives came with a lot of controversy, especially in the ship that they were on. But that girl who Vash cares for, Rem cared for them regardless of what they were. Rem had high hopes for a peaceful world with coexistence. Too bad Knives had other motives and killed her.

ENDING TO TV SERIES: Vash has tried so hard to keep Milly, Meryl, and Wolfwood out of harm’s way. He knows there are some pretty bad people after him, including his polar-opposite brother, Knives. Vash hates death and wants to save as many people as humanly possible. He doesn’t want to see any more needless death. Probably from his flashbacks and losing Rem! Unfortunately, this doesn’t go so well.

I can see how iconic this death was now after witnessing it. Wolfwood, the priest who would hook up with Vash every now and then when they’re up against some ruffians, now finds himself in a crucial decision. He gets orders that he must eliminate Vash. And Wolfwood ends up dying instead in a very dramatic death scene. God-damn! And just that scene where Milly is sobbing freakin’ eats you up inside.

At least she had one night of passion before the unfortunate happened!

Vash hates the thought of having to kill anyone. But he might not have a choice if Knives is coming after him and even hires a powerful foe from a previous episode and the guy that killed Wolfwood to take you out. Once Vash met up with Knives, he winds up having some pretty sick flashbacks of Knives. But our homeboy was able to take out Knives, the desert area gets water, and…

I’m gonna have to read the fucking manga for more, right?

Tap dancing fuck!

BADLANDS RUMBLE: 12 years after the series ended, Japan decides to release a side-story in the form of a movie, bringing back our favorite characters like Vash, Wolfwood, Milly, and Meryl. And yes, reuniting the cast…in Japan.

By 2010, Geneon was as good as dead and FUNimation licensed Trigun. In short, they managed to get Johnny Young Bosch to reprise his role as Vash the Stampede. But everyone else was replaced. And surprisingly, the people they got to do Wolfwood and Milly were pretty freakin’ close to their original voices. Meryl’s voice, come on I know Luci Christian any-damn-where! Vash helps a young lady take out a big-bad guy (who turns out to be his father). And it has the feel of the original series where it’s set in a western town with lots of booze and shoot-em-ups! It’s an interesting side-story to the Trigun trilogy.

Trigun was a pretty good anime. I mean, not one of my favorites, but I can definitely see a lot of people sticking by this classic. Maybe you can chalk up my blah attitude to the fact that I’m not fond of westerns and I kinda took it out on Trigun. Or the fact that there was so much more that the anime could have covered before the end and the ending kinda felt off to me! Like I thought I was expecting more. But I suppose that’s what mangas are for. To be honest, the stories that really grabbed my attention were the back-stories with Vash and Knives and Wolfwood’s final episode.

*sniffles* At least Milly got one night of passion before he died!

If you would like to check out Trigun, all the episodes are available through FUNimation and Hulu (in both Japanese and English). And if you really like the anime, why not purchase the hard copies? Both the series and movie are available for home video.

Okay, that took me a while, but I’m glad to finish Trigun. What’s next on the FUNimation list?

EEHHHHHEEEHHHE

Fuck is that supposed to mean? What is that? Is that even in English?

YOU WILL BE HORRIBLY MUTILATED: The Isekai

Do you mean Re:Zero? That’s great…but that review’s not ready yet. And it probably won’t be until after April 2021! So let’s cast caution to the wind and pick another FUNimation licensed anime.

You’re watching Sarazanmai next. It’s best if you don’t ask questions.

Sarazanmai? The fuck does that even mean?!

OH. MY. GOD.

#trigun #vash the stampede #meryl stryfe #milly thompson #nicholas d wolfwood #knives millions #anime review

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