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pagingdoctorbedlam · 3 years

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Ready for zombies, Zoro, and some hurt/comfort? Then take a swig of this potion for @quirkyseastone ‘s “Brew a Love Potion” event! (But please read the warnings first!)

Characters: Zoro x Reader; appearance by Bartholomew Kuma

Genre: Zombie/Apocalypse, Hurt/Comfort (a bit light on the comfort though, woops)

TW/CW: Violence, guns and swords, blood, light gore, mentions of cannibalism, undead bodies

Inspiration: The concept for zombies in this fic is inspired by the novel Breathers by S.G. Browne (at least, what I remember from having read it over 10 years ago...)

Word Count: ~3.1k words

...

"Hold still, we're almost..." You apply the last bit of blush before appraising your handiwork. Not bad, if you said so yourself. At a glance, Zoro doesn't even look dead. "There. Want a mirror to see?"

"I trust you not to doll me up too bad." Roronoa Zoro yawns, even though the legendary zombie hunter no longer needs to sleep, having recently been turned into a zombie himself. Which, contrary to popular belief, is not in and of itself a death sentence. Most zombies act as they did in life, even if their bodies no longer recover the way a living human's does. The danger comes from the zombies who try to stop this decay by feasting on human brains...and sometimes more dangerous are the humans who've decided that every zombie is a ticking time bomb regardless of said zombie's intentions.

At least Zoro had never been that way, but now he's got to hide from the hunters who once considered him a legend. Sure, it wouldn't be hard for him to fight off hunters, even if you've had to stitch each limb back on at least twice (and you're still not sure where one of his eyes ended up). But you'd rather your newfound partner in protecting innocent zombies not cause a scene simply by walking through the market.

"Remember, don't rub your face. This makeup cost me a fortune. And try to fake breathing this time, okay?"

"Yeah yeah, I got it." He manages to take a breath that's believable but isn't so deep that it rattles the loose bones and organs in his slowly decaying chest.

Both of you get to your feet and finish the rest of your preparations for the outside world. Your clothing hides as much skin as possible, even with the warm temperatures outside. You spray Zoro down with cheap cologne so he smells less like roadkill and more like a teenager trying to cover up a bad case of B.O. And you slip on filtration masks in a vain attempt to avoid the ever-present smoke and dust beyond your walls.

No one's sure if the zombies came about because of the bombs, or if the bombs were secretly launched because the powers-that-be learned about the first nascent zombies and failed with their pre-emptive strike. But now much of the world is a wasteland, and bargaining for resources is bad enough without half the population lobbing accusations of cannibalism at the other half. You can't hold off this trip any longer, because you've ended up looking after a number of innocent zombies, and they need medical supplies before they fall apart any further.

You shoo Zoro away from the driver's spot on your motorbike. "Nuh uh buddy, we aren't getting lost today." You've heard a new band of hunters is coming to town, and the last thing you want is to run into them before you have a chance to secure your supplies.

"I don't get lost! They just keep changing where the market is." Zoro still reluctantly waits for you to take your place at the front before he sits behind you and firmly snakes his arms around your waist. You pretend you can feel his pulse when he holds you, even though you know the heart in his chest has long stopped beating.

Markets are supposed to be neutral ground. Everyone needs resources to survive after all, and one of the few things that bombs and zombie outbreaks couldn't kill is commerce. Stalls line the aisles of what was once a grocery store, faded advertisements promoting foods that no one's seen in years, and someone has fixed the speaker system to play the same old pop hits in a vain attempt at normalcy.

You hold tight to Zoro's hand, both to keep him from getting lost and so he stays close in case of danger. He obliges, and even holds bags for you as you pull him around. You might've called this romantic in the times before, back when your purchases would've been far more frivolous than bandages and shelf-stable rations, but you're unsure how close you and Zoro would've been without being thrown together by circumstance.

You pause by one stall, eyes wide. Zoro doesn't notice and keeps walking until he notices that you won't budge. He raises an eyebrow when he finally joins you. "What, some kinda' plastic plant?"

"Not plastic. It's real." You forgive him the mistake though, as the plant has sturdy, waxy leaves that almost look sculpted. It feels like so long since you've seen anything green (aside from Zoro's hair), much less an actual plant. But you note the name scribbled in tape on its battered plastic pot. It's nothing useful, not medicinal or edible in the slightest. Just a begonia that hasn't even bloomed yet.

The shopkeeper asks, "Gonna gawk, or you gonna' buy?"

You know you can't afford a plant, what with how rare they are. You might be able to bargain and beg if it were something more useful, but...

"We'll buy." Zoro slams something down on the table. "This'll be enough?"

You catch the glint of gold peeking from between his fingers. Jewelry isn't useful anymore, but human greed has a hard time giving up old habits. The shopkeeper smiles wide and practically shoves the begonia at you with one hand while snatching up Zoro's earring with the other. You thank him and depart the stall without another word, clutching the flower close to your chest.

"What was that about?" You hiss at Zoro.

"Looked like you wanted it," he says with a shrug. You squint up at his remaining earrings, only to realize that in his haste to remove the one he traded away, he tore the hole in his ear a little in the process. Probably didn't even notice that he'd done so, the stubborn fool...

Well, what's done is done. "Thank you. I'll make sure to take excellent care of it."

"Don't mention it." Which you know is Zoro-speak for "you're welcome". So you smile back at him without saying anything more on the subject, and continue the rest of your trek through the market.

You make the mistake of thinking this is a surprisingly nice day. But you don't realize that someone has noticed how Zoro isn't bleeding.

When Zoro pulls out one sword and tightens his grip around your midsection, you don't have to ask why. You're being followed.

You absently wonder what gave you away. Never removing your masks? A smudge in Zoro's makeup that revealed the deathly pallor underneath? It doesn't really matter, you think. Whoever is after you will chase you down until they can swing their weapons and play at being heroes, so all you can do is fight on your own terms. You avoid going home and swerve the bike toward the burned-out husk of an abandoned store that not even the most desperate zombies would hide in.

You glance at the tilted rearview mirror on your bike. The figures chasing you are hulking brutes, but nothing compared to their ringleader. He's built like a brick house with legs, and his imposing figure is thrown off by the pristine white hat topped with small bear ears. Instead of a holstered weapon, he has a bible strapped to his side. You've heard of this man. Judging by the look in Zoro's eyes, he does too. One of the most notorious zombie hunters in the country: Bartholomew Kuma.

What is he doing here, of all places?

Zoro says, "Soon as we touch down, hide. It's me they want."

"I can't just leave you. You know who that is back there?"

"Doesn't matter. I already died once. They can't do worse than that to me. But they could still hurt you plenty. 'Specially if you came back before they were done with you." In the rearview mirror, Zoro's eyes are sharp and cold as his blades.

You know how to handle a weapon in self-defense, but you're nowhere near the master that Zoro is. And he has a point. You're still human, you can bleed, you can hurt. And that might chew Zoro up worse than anything Kuma and crew could throw at him. You resign yourself to your fate and think of where in that burnt-out building you might be able to hide, preferably while still keeping an ear out for danger.

You speed on, trying to shake your pursuers, but soon the road runs out. The bones of burnt buildings jut out before you like oversized tombstones. You remember scouting here before, trying to usher out displaced zombies before the remnants of the building could collapse on them. Much of the ruins have fallen since you were last here, but there's still a concrete bunker that was once a stockroom, and it's mostly intact. You can lay low there until the fighting's over.

You relay this plan to Zoro, and you tell him, "I'll be safe there, don't worry about me. Once the fighting's done, I'll come back down and patch you up. So don't die on me again, alright?"

Zoro nods, even though he surely knows the claim is more for your comfort than anything. He's a zombie, after all, and they don't heal the way humans do unless they devour human brains. He won't bleed, but if he looses a limb, or even his head? There's nothing you can do to fix that. And to be honest, you're not sure if that'll do him in, or if he'd continue living in pieces. You don't want to find out.

You park. And you know you should hit the ground running, but your heart is hammering in your chest. You turn to Zoro as he pulls out his blades.

You quickly put your warm hands on his cold cheeks and pull him in for a kiss. You two never attached words to what's simmered under the surface for so long, but in case of the worst...you couldn't handle him not knowing how you truly felt. He blinks as you pull away, briefly stunned. You wonder if he'd blush if he could.

You run into the burnt-out husk of a building. The touch of your lips on Zoro's is replaced by a sword between his teeth.

In another lifetime, before people stopped dying right and the world went to hell over it, this building was a clothing store. You shopped here for outfits you haven't seen in years. Once, a friend who worked here snuck you into the back room, and you ate cheap takeout while surrounded by wall-to-ceiling racks of clothing and shoes. If you took time to wipe away the dust, you might still find graffiti left by the workers during their final shifts. You wonder if your friend left one.

You cannot look because you are huddled on a shelf and trying not to make a sound. The shelves are sturdy metal and easy to climb even without the rolling ladder. You're hidden high above the heads of anyone who might come in and pressed against a wall. No one should find you here.

For awhile, you heard sounds from outside. Speaking at first, though you couldn't make out what was being said. Then battle, swords colliding and guns firing. Screams. Then...nothing. You don't know if it's safe to come out. You'll find out soon. There are footsteps approaching.

A voice you do not recognize says your name.

"Roronoa Zoro is dead. Again. I am sorry that it had to happen." Heavy footfalls contrast a voice that is soft, almost even kind. "I understand why you might want to save him. You've built quite a reputation for that, you know. But I'm afraid it ends here. We cannot allow you to keep any more abominations alive. You understand that is what they are, don't you?"

You know he's trying to goad you into revealing yourself. It takes everything in your power to hold still and silent.

Metal crumples nearby with a shrill squeal, as if it could protest its false bones being broken.

"If you were to go on a trip...where would you like to go?"

The question throws you off guard, almost enough for sound to escape your lips.

"We do not have to kill you. All the government wants is to talk. If you cooperate, you'll be transported somewhere safe. Free of zombies, even." More metal crumples, and you wonder how Kuma is doing it. Does he have a weapon, or is he strong enough to break the storage shelves with his bare hands? "All you have to do is come willingly, and when we're done, you can go wherever you'd like, and you'll be kept safe."

But the only place you can think of is home. With Zoro. No matter what might come after you there.

The shelf under you shifts, and your body spasms as if you fell in a dream and awoke with your mind still lurching. You reach for anything to grab onto, but your fingers only touch air. (For the briefest instance, you spy graffiti drawn by a familiar hand upon the wall.)

You do not immediately recognize the feel of the arms, because they are warm and pulsing with life. You stare up at Zoro's face in disbelief. He's missing an eye and his face is smeared with blood, mouth drawn in a thin line.

"You survived," Kuma intones softly. "You ate them." And you wish you could refute him, but even before he spoke, you knew it to be true. Zoro's bloody fingers dig into your clothes to hold you tight. You hear his heartbeat for the first time, and it rarely skips a beat. Kuma says, "Let your friend down, Roronoa. You don't want to do this."

"Think I'm some mindless cannibal? Think again." Zoro sets you down and looks you dead in the eye. "Told you I wouldn't die. And neither will you. Now, get out of here." Half a second before returning his sword to his mouth, his tongue flickers over his blood-stained lips. "Hurry!"

You do as he asks and flee to the doorway of the building. You know you should run to the motorcycle and drive out of here, but there are two problems with that. One is how you don't want to leave Zoro again. The other is that even if you admit the truth to yourself, that he finally gave in and consumed the brains of his enemies like the zombies he used to put down...you don't want to turn around and see what he did to the corpses of Kuma's followers.

The fight is swift and brutal. You've seen Zoro fight before, but while he's normally a whirlwind with his blades, now he's a demonic torrent. Much as he tries to stick to his traditional fighting forms, they slip into more instinctual slashes when Kuma pushes back, and the only thing that keeps Zoro on top is sheer ferocity. He moves so fast, you swear he's slashing three times faster than a normal man, leaving the afterimages of a three-faced demon. (You've heard rumors of zombies growing entirely new parts when they've eaten too much mortal flesh, but surely those are only rumors, survivors not understanding what they're seeing...)

Kuma is far quicker than his size would suggest. But even he begins to buckle. He blocks one blade with a bible far sturdier than it appears, and then lunges forward in a final desperate attack. Zoro braces to parry an attack, but is taken aback as no blow comes. Something metal and blinking is clasped onto his wrist.

"We will not meet again."

And Kuma is gone. You blink in surprise. You swore you didn't see him leave through the other holes in the building, didn't feel anyone pass you, and yet...

The normally composed swordsman growls as he sheathes his swords and tries to pry the blinking metal bangle (a tracking device, what else could it be?) off his arm. You want to approach him, but are unsure if you should; all you can do is watch as he uselessly paws at the bangle. Until he stops suddenly. You catch a glimpse of fresh crimson.

Zoro freezes as the reality of what he's done, what he's become, finally settles in. He's a statue slowly dripping red, most of which isn't his own. His breath shudders, and that too takes him off-guard. He sways where he stands, almost falling to his knees but somehow staying upright.

Before you can stop yourself, your feet carry you toward him, and you reach out. Your fingers brush against his back. He growls, "Don't. I'm not..."

"It doesn't matter what you are. You're still Zoro."

Gentle pushes at his shoulders turn him around so he faces you. His face has more color than you've ever seen, blood red and flesh pink and mottled blues and violets of bruises. His closed eyelid twitches as the eye underneath regenerates. How long will it be until all the color's gone, and electrical impulses run short to leave his heart to hang heavy and empty in his chest, and how much longer than that until he gets a taste for life again regardless of the cost?

That doesn't matter right now. The future looms taller and more frightening than Kuma, but right now, you're two scared humans in a broken warehouse. You wrap your arms around Zoro and pull him close.

For the briefest moment, you feel his mouth open, hear the click in his jaw. His teeth brush against your ear. You close your eyes and refuse to think about it.

His chin rests on your shoulder. Mouth closed. Arms wrap around you right and your hearts beat together, lungs scramble for air together, blood and worry (and tears, you think, but you're not sure whose) intermingle and crawl to a slow stop until only a numb and temporary peace remains.

"You'd be forgiven for walking away." His voice is raw and tired with the weight of living again and all that took.

"Maybe. But someone has to keep you from getting lost." You give him one final squeeze before letting him go. "Come on. Let's go home and get you cleaned up."

When morning comes, you'll have to face what the future holds for a brain-eating swordsman and the one who looks out for him despite it all. But tonight, the both of you are miraculously alive and breathing, and there's a green new plant in the window ready to soak up all the sunlight tomorrow can offer.

#seas brew a love potion challenge #opfanfic #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zombie au #hurt/comfort #bedlam writes

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drabbles-of-writing · 3 years

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Reverse Au! Dump

Don’t mind my idea dumping here. Brain decided to have fun while I was at work and I have too many wips as it is, so… Thought I’d ask before I dumped, experience. Used morningmark’s comics as a base, so if you want reference. Now this isn’t all that well compiled, but here it goes.

Magic in the Other World is varied as it is crazy. So many styles over the generations and not a lot of organization. There are some that try to categorize it all, but that works as well as you’d expect. Some were lost, some erased, some weren’t passed down/recorded because “the power is all mine! Ahahaha!” It took a lot of time and collaboration, but eventually a sort of system was installed to help out. Still a lot of work to do, but its a step forward. Nowadays the term Wild Magic is generally reserved for those that aren’t all that well documented and understood.

Some Magics are very powerful and desirable, but also tend to be very high risk/high reward, kinda pass/fail, pretty literally Do or Die most times. So not a lot of people can use those or are even willing to. Story says this one guy named Odin hung himself on a massive tree by his own spear for nine days, no food water or rest in constant pain before he could unlock the secret of Runes. But it’s also said he gouged out his own eye to drink from the Well of Wisdom so…

There are lots of different ways to channel magic too: wands, staves, jewelry, certain gems, familiars, potions, enchanted armaments, chants, scripts, etc. Each tool has its own advantages and disadvantages and play into a Witches’ style. Every Witch has at least two methods of spellcasting. Only children have one. Haven’t thought of how Luz gets her Palisman though. Maybe its one of those magic Artifacts like Dr. Strange’s cloak, Elder Wand, Thor’s hammer, or a Green Lantern’s Ring. Something that can’t be recreated because the secret is lost, materials no longer exist, too hard/dangerous to make, accident that can’t be recreated, etc. Happens more often than people like.

Camilla is sometimes called the Blue Witch. She’s a healer by heart and trade, but push her and she will become a one Witch Battleship. Bismark who? Aaaaand she just deleted a whole battalion. And the fortress behind them. Hide me. There are the very rare occasions, like count on one hand rare, when someone near and dear to her heart is in trouble that she takes up her other job. She’s especially terrifying when she decides to torture, those who know how to heal the body know best how to break it. Many shades of Blue, some are very close to Black. She doesn’t necessarily hate Humans exactly, but doesn’t have the highest of regard from past experiences.

Luz has training and is a proficient Witch for her age. Camilla and her father were adamant about having a general knowledge/skillset alongside her specialized skill. Jack of all trades and a master of none, still better than a master of one. She has gone through the system for her magic with varying success. Oracle magic? Zero talent. Bard classes? She can play an instrument, but can’t sing at the same time. When she does sing she tires too hard and messes up. It’s only when she doesn’t try, like absently singing along with a song or playing by her heart, that she’s good at it. Beasts? Can use them, but would rather play with them. Bleeding heart and all that. She does have a good handle on healing magic partly due to Camilla drilling necessary skills into her and partly osmosis. Her father arranged for some CQC lessons from an old friend of his which the girl loved. You get the idea. It wasn’t until she discovered Glyphs that she found her niche and her skills took off. Glyphs are one of those ‘eccentric’ or 'archaic’ styles since they haven’t been used in so long after being lost and are barely understood. She still has a long way to go, but she is on her way.

Luz never really had much in the way of friends, partly cuz of high profile parents which leads to certain pressures and a target on her head, partly because of her magic style and personality, and partly because of the trouble been going on. Luz grew up her whole life with this tension of a group of anarchists trying to burn society that’s just trying to do the right thing. The anarchists started small, but have been a growing problem the past few decades with talk how to 'reshape the world’ in not a good way. Anyone with critical thinking skills can tell this is a bad idea, but they are too brainwashed to notice. They harass anyone who doesn’t follow their rhetoric and attack anyone who even questions them. Luz’s parents put a real kink in a lot of their plans for years, which makes Luz guilty by association.

Luz got caught in one of those sudden larger scuffles and was accidentally chucked/blown through a portal created by an attempted tactical retreat that went off course. Hence why she can’t go home because she hasn’t learned how to do portals yet. Those are high level anyway so how did these guys pull it off so easily? Luz has a hard time blending in obviously. Learning how to use a phone was a fun endeavor. Internet was a trip. Luz is amazed how these people can do all this cool stuff without magic. Keep a low profile sure, she can pass off as a weird out of town kid. Keep the beanie on, underperform in gym and stuff because some things don’t change, like genetics. Someone sharp eyed will see discrepancies. The Beanie has a small Glamor spell built in that covers her witchy traits but she forgot the ears which is why it sits like it does. Luz can erase memories in case she has an accident, but it’s less of a 'remove my face from this picture with a scalpel’, and more of a 'lemme just hack off the past hour or three from your brain with an axe.’ If she tries to take any more then she starts burning into some more dangerous territory and those Wiped are groggy and disoriented for a while after already. Then the magic attacks start happening and her heroic instinct/anti-bystander complex kicks in and there goes that. It runs in the family so Camilla isn’t surprised in the slightest when she finds out.

“Oh titan, why did you curse me with another me?” “I’m right here Mami!”

Eda has a shack very akin to Grunkle Stan. Lots of junk that Lilith can’t believe that people are dumb enough to buy. She’s also involved in some not so legal dealings on the side. Well, Eda isn’t actually hurting anybody and the tax dollars she should be paying would only go towards some politicians’ next yacht or another pointless overseas 'investment’ instead of where it’s supposed to go so. Eda does give some good intel on occasion and a place to vent so Lillith overlooks her. Lil’s more of the secret police for witches and a petty crook isn’t part of her job anyway. Eda understands Luz’s predicament and is willing to help. The cover story is that Camilla work in hospitals and has to work crazy hours while her dad passed away so is living with Eda for a while. King is that kind of critter that grew up weird and acts like ten different animals all the time.

Gus is the nerdy kid who infodumps on everybody, even if they’re not listening. Loves anything fantasy/sci-fi related and plays Minecraft too. A good kid at heart, but needs some social skills. Keep him away from anything more sugary than tea. Luz learned a lot listening to him. Not all of it is entirely useful, but still. Some of his ramblings give her some good ideas for magic and stuff, like putting Glyphs on cards.

The Blights are the cool rich kids obviously, and have some discipline and social issues. Big family name makes them intimidating for normies and a meal ticket for the unsavory. These kids need real friends. They decided to act out to get some attention from the parents who then decided to ignore them. “If you’re going to act like a child tantrum, get treated like one.” Ed is perfect for Drama classes, if he were allowed to partake. Can’t decide what Em is great at, hacking perhaps? Amity’s car is an inheritance from the only family to treat her as such Twins aside, even if she’s too young to remember it. She only remembers that she has feelings surrounding the car. All three of them were pretty impressed with Luz for standing up to them, calling them out on their shit, and not giving a crap about their family name. Being treated like a normal person is pretty weird. Can we get her to do that again?

Amity tried dating Boscha once, didn’t work out very well. Boscha is still hurting over Amity’s comment of “I’d rather go date the new weird kid (Luz) than go back to you.” It’s one of the reasons she goes after Luz. She has that kind of Bud personality from Spider Man, feels lesser and so acts out so much.

“Wow, this new Witch is amazing. Not as cool as the original Witch.”

“What is it with the Witch with you?”

“Oh, she’s a hero. Looks out for the city and the little guy. She inspires me. Makes me want to be a bigger person. *sees Luz* What’s up Luz-er?”

And that’s what I got right now. I know there was more, but it’s lost to the void right now. Might come back later, maybe not. Lemme know what you think.

............

DAMN you weren’t lying when you said you had an info-dump this is *chefs kiss* you got me intrigued now

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so-i-dont-forget-again · 3 years

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So I Don’t Forget Again: A Breath of The Wild fanfiction

Entry 99: Lookout Post

We stayed up all night star gazing. His glowing spots were just as memorizing as ever. We read through my journal and his letters. When we got to the part when my mind went to a dark place Sidon simply held me close and said that I at least knew what he would do now. I felt so secure and safe in that moment. So happy. How does he always to this to me? How is it that he always makes me feel so, I don’t know? Any negative feelings or thoughts welding up inside, he doesn’t just make them go away he somehow manages to find the heart of them helps me find a way to change it. Like with my dark thoughts we talked through them, not just ignored them, or my feelings for Daruk and all the others who’ve passed, or my realization that what he pointed out I knew a hundred years ago. We explored and talked through all of them just like that night when I broke down and my conflicting feelings about my past and Mipha came pouring out. He never did anything for me or in my place, he supported me allowing me a greater chance to do it myself. Whenever he speaks of how great I am, that makes me want to do even better! Not just for him but for myself. I feel I have this self-motivated drive that I wouldn’t have if he hadn’t help me kick start it. He doesn’t simply get rid of things he helps to make changes that last. Sidon’s just so amazing. I wish No, what he’s done for me I will do someday for him! I’ll change his life for the better someday! I will be the Sidon to his Link! I try my best but what he does for and to me I can’t truly describe. I can only work towards being the kind of person whom could do the same for others, and for him.

As much as it would have been lovely to stay together longer, I could not just let Sidon stay here. I led him back to where the canyon and desert meet when the sun was rising. Before leaving he gently held my right arm and asked how it was fairing. It was behaving as usual honestly, it was much slower to heal than the rest of me, it still hurts even now honestly. He then closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on mine, asking me to be a little more careful, and to treat my right arm better because it seems to get injured often.

As he started walking away, he stopped, turning to me saying that he wanted to say one last thing. He said that whether I’m a Voe or a Vai I am adorable. He then paused for a moment before that toothy grin took hold on his lips, saying especially when I blush. He put a big emphasis on the ‘especially’ part. Then added that either way it doesn’t change the fact that I’m the greatest person he’s ever met. With that said he left me with a racing heart and my face feeling as hot as the desert in the afternoon. HOW DOES HE DO THIS!? I’M JUST THINKING ABOUT IT AND MY HEART’S RACING AGAIN!

I’m so happy and so scared to see him go. I believe that he should be safe in the domain, but he was with me when I killed the Yiga clan’s leader. They may target him. There are way too many ‘what if’s’ in this situation. Thankfully some Gerudo women agreed to travel with him so at least they have safety in numbers. Oddly enough, though I was worried about the Yiga in that moment I was more worried about how upset Muzu and possibly his father would be. He ran off without saying a word to anyone I believe.

On the way back to Gerudo town we bumped into Vilia. We chatted for a bit about what had happened and about Sidon. She remarked that we seem very close. It was a short chat though. I’m not exactly sure how long it’s been so I wanted to meet with the chief as soon as I could.

When I reached the audience chamber Buliara asked me what took so long, then said that it didn’t matter. The Chief had given me permission to see her in her room if she wasn’t at the audience chamber so not so willingly Buliara led me to the Chief’s room and stood guard at the door.

Chief Riju stood at the edge of a balcony which overlooked the whole town. She told me that she had been waiting for me. I was apologizing when she raised a hand and said that it wasn’t needed, after all, she was the one who requested that I get the helm back. She thanked me for saving that one guard. She then said that I must have noticed that she is a child. She said that people only look on her kindly but that in of itself hurts a little. She’d tried so much to prove to be worthy of her role to her people and herself. When the Thunder Helm was stolen she felt as if a shadow had fallen over her. She then said that my arrival amongst this chaos must have been the work of Lady Urbosa, the Champion of the Gerudo and a chief too. She then placed the helm on. It was a bit big, so she had to hold it up.

That helm… It lay by their sides on a few pillows. They sat on a blanket, looking out at the marvelous view of the night desert from so high up. Princess Zelda had fallen asleep on her shoulder. She said that I certainly gotten there fast. She told me Zelda was out surveying all day. Then she asked if we were getting along. After a few moments she said that it was okay, my silence spoke volumes. She told me that Princess Zelda gets frustrated every time she sees me with the legendary sword on my back. She feels like a failure when it came to her own destiny. She told me to not worry, none of it was my fault. She said that for her whole life the princess had gone through rigorous daily routines to show her dedication, there was even a time when she had passed out in freezing waters trying to gain her spiritual powers. Yet she has nothing to show for it. She said that’s what motivates her to do so much research. She then added that if she were in her place, she’d do the exact same thing. She said the princess was quite special as she placed some stray hairs behind the princess’ ear. She told me to make sure to protect her with my life, it was an honor to do so. She said that the nights here are freezing so it was time to take the princess in. She paused for a moment, smirking before snapping her fingers causing lightning to strike, startling the princess awake. Seeing her reaction, she couldn’t hold in that hearty laughter.

Chief Riju asked if something was wrong for I had been staring for a while. But then said that it didn’t really matter. She asked how it looked on her. I said it was a tad big. Then in that moment it slid off her a little. She swiftly adjusted it and started to speak of Vah Naboris. She said that within the time it took me to get back it’s reach had already grown exponentially. We could both see a massive sandstorm brewing not far off in the distance. The town, and the rest of Hyrule would very soon be in danger. She told me that as chief it was her duty to protect her people and asked me for help. I obviously agreed. She commented on how funny it was that right before such a dangerous battle ‘hearing a simple, confident pledge of support from you would be what puts me at ease.’ Hearing that gave me a kind of joy I hadn’t felt before.

We left for a place called the ‘Lookout Post’ It was near the storm, but not quite caught up in it yet. There was her personal Sandseal, Patricia waiting for us. Sandseals are the creature used as transportation here since horses can’t run on sand. The rider stands on a large shield or something similar. You use straps to control the Sandseal. They swim though in the sand so a person can’t exactly ride on their backs. The plan was for me to shoot at Vah Naboris’ feet with bomb arrows. It draws it’s power from the ground so if we damaged those enough we’d probably get an opening to the inside. Chief Riju controlled the Sandseal and provided protection from the lightning by wearing the helm. The helm can provide some protection to the area around her so by both of us riding on the same shield I should not get hit by lightning.

Before the fight I changed into my Champion’s tunic since it’s my best armor. I at least wore some ruby jewelry since the sun was setting and it was about to get cold. Chief Riju was surprised to see me. She rarely gets to see voe since they’re not allowed in town. Yet though I certainly look different I wasn’t that different. Though I’m a guy I really liked being a woman for a while. Honestly, I’ll probably wear my Gerudo clothing when traveling even though I don’t need to.

We looked out into the storm and could just barely see the Divine Beast lurking within. It was pretty intimidating. When she asked once more if I was sure I was prepared I said of course. She really liked my confidence. She also told me that if I got too injured or struck by lightning even once she promised that we’d retreat to the lookout post. Though we were going into battle she didn’t want us to do anything reckless under any circumstances. It was then that we finally set off.

The wind was ferocious, and with sand being kicked up aiming and firing was nearly impossible. I was only able to get any shots in if we got extremely close. Lightning exploded all around us, and the crashing noises it caused was defining. I had to focus all of my effort into simply drawing my bow let alone shooting. I have no idea what would have happened should Chief Riju not have been there. Vah Naboris quickly became more aggressive, moving faster and making the storm more like a tornado. The Divine Beast even kicked out one of its legs which got me to fall off the shield. The Chief tried to come back for me, but the Sandseal was scared off and she too fell off the shield. It was about to stamp one of its feet on her when I tossed myself holding a Sheikah bomb at it. My head was ringing, and my body felt numb. Thankfully Sheika bombs don’t use fire or gunpower so all that hit me was just the force of the explosion which is much more powerful than a regular bomb arrow, but I had the sand to cushion my fall, so I was relatively fine. I tried explaining that to the chief, but she was furious with me for doing something to dangerous. Though this did not last long because we realized that Vah Naboris was now falling on us. I swiftly took her under my arm and booked it out of there. We just made it in time to not get crushed. The storm quickly subsided, and the lightning had completely stopped. But I knew that like the other Divine Beasts it wouldn’t stay down long so I went searching for an entrance. I told her that it would be best to return to town given the fact that going in there meant you’d have to fight a living nightmare but she refused saying that it’s her duty to protect her people, and if I continued to throw myself into danger then I’d die before appeasing Vah Naboris.

As we found an entrance it was already getting back up on it’s feet. Once we were inside, though our footing was steady we could still feel ourselves bobbing up and down with the Divine Beast which was such a strange feeling. A voice echoed about in my mind leading us to the guidance stone. This beast seemed to be much more open. There were so many places where I could see the outside from inside.

Whenever I had to fight, I had the Chief stay back. At one point she asked that when she was a little older if I could teach her. The Gerudo are known for being amazing warriors but she could be even greater if she could learn more than just the traditional Gerudo style. I wasn’t sure what to say. I believe learning different styles of fighting is important, but… The battle against the Calamity will be unlike anything I’ve faced before in memory, and last I faced it, I failed. So, how was I to say that I would even still be around to teach her? But I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘no’, so I agreed. I just feel awful now.

Each time we took back a terminal I heard confident words of affirmation and praise in my mind.

Soon all that remained was a control panel. Before placing the Sheikah Slate on it I told the chief that she needed to stay close to me. After placing down the slate for a moment I took the chief’s hand and ran as a mucked black and purple mist exploded forth from the control panel, then taking the shape of a disgusting creature wielding a sword and shield. With that same damned bright blue eye. The thing that had killed Urbosa a hundred years ago. It moved so fast it was simply a blur. Next thing I knew I was clutching the chief against my chest as that thing’s sword was swiftly pulled out of my side. I swung at it as much as I could before it disappeared. I was able to jump out of the way of its next attack while still holding the chief. It soon used lightning attacks which thanks to the chief we were unaffected by. It soon threw down metal rods. Lightning bounced across them, using the magnet ability I threw one of the rods at it, electrifying and shocking it. It was then I was able to land the final attack, finishing it off.

I asked her if she was alright to which she said she was, thanks to me. But she was extremely concerned about the wound I had in my side. I told her that as long as I ate something, I’d be fine. I quickly got back to the control panel and apologized to the chief for her having to deal with my body after I fainted. I then placed the slate on the panel. I heard foot falls behind me. She thanked me for freeing Naboris, and her. We could finally do what we set out to a hundred years ago which was a relief since Gerudo have no tolerance for unfinished business. She said that she’s been waiting for so long for me to rush Hyrule Castle, and for her to use Naboris’ full power against the Calamity. She knew how the princess and I both greatly suffered due to the after math of the Champions falling but that just was how things had to happen. No one need carry the blame. She asked me that I make sure that the princess understood that without a single doubt. To tell her to shed any worries. And to let her know that she couldn’t be more proud of her. Then she told me to take good care of her and Hyrule.

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crimsonrae · 4 years

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Bear and Birdie

Chapter Seven

Summary: AU Howard only ever had Birdie to confide in as a child and Steve only ever had Bucky. So, what happens when more than just a supersoldier serum connects these people? Told in a collection of one-shots and flashbacks, rating subject to change.

Bucky BarnesxOFC

Rating: Mature

Chapter Seven

1923 Kingston, New York

Magic

Elena stared with wide blue eyes as she watched her father uncurl his palm. The quarter he had been twirling through his fingers was gone. She gasped in surprise making Samuel hardpress to contain his chuckle. He had done these tricks for Fergus once upon a time, but his eldest had long since lost any interest in his father's silly magic tricks.

His five-year-old, however. Samuel grinned as Elena snatched his hand to look it over. Her sharp little eyes were looking for the lie – trying to understand where he had made the coin go. He made the coin reappear again as she turn his palm over and chuckled at her stymied expression. His smart little girl.

"Again daddy." Elena demanded as she slipped the coin from between his fingers. She looked at the little piece of silver as if it held all the answers in the world. Maybe it did.

Samuel smiled amusedly as he reached down to wrap an arm around his little girl and place her on his lap. She curled into his side almost immediately as she looked up him pointedly. He raised a sardonic brow, "Again? Pigeon, I've done this four times already. Aren't you getting tired of it?"

"No. Again, show me." Elena demand again with a slight pout. This time it was Samuel's turn to giver her a pointed look. She huffed as she continued, "Pleasee. Please, daddy."

Samuel sighed at his princess and gently snatched the quarter from her small fingers. He tapped her nose, "One more time, Pigeon. Then it's bedtime for you."

"But!"

"No buts little girl." Samuel said sternly. He was more aware than most that the blue-eyed pixie on his lap had him wrapped around her little finger, but he knew better than to let Elena have her way with everything... even as she pouted up at him. He sighed tiredly and held up the coin in an effective distraction from his bedtime decree, "Alright, pay attention."

Elena nodded seriously as she watched the quarter spin through her father's fingers again. He hoped that fascination never left her eyes.

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1937 Brooklyn, New York

"I thought penguins lived in Antarctica."

Bucky rolled his eyes as he adjusted his bowtie. Admittedly, he did feel a little ridiculous dressed in the monkey suit he had been given for work. His usual slacks and button down had been traded for fine black woolen pants and a cotton shirt so white he thought it would blind someone. Luckily, his tie and vest detracted from the startling sheen, "Yuck it up, Stevie. At least I have a decent paying job for once."

"I give you an hour before you deck someone." Steve drawled as he watched Bucky finish getting ready. He wasn't quite sure how his best friend had landed a job as a server for some hoighty toighty event, but he knew Bucky would be gritting his teeth all night. Steve remembered all to clearly the one time Bucky had spent the day with him on Columbia's campus. The day had gone well for the most part, but not even Steve could keep Bucky from hearing the snide comments some of the more wealthy students made about the scholarship kid in class. And Bucky said he had a short fuse?

"Your faith in me is astonishing." Bucky retorted as he smoothed his hair back, wincing as he caught sight of the healing scar on his forehead. He was thankful that it was summer and the slight tan he had developed from working outside had minimized the obviousness of the pink tissue. He would have to be more careful when he chose his boxing matches in the future. It didn't matter that the purse had been good or that he had lost in the end - he had been out of commission for a few days as he allowed his ribs and hands to heal from fighting the Goliath himself, "Besides it's not like I have time to stand around and listen to anyone gab. I'll be too busy running around with trays and glasses."

"Mmm." Steve hummed in faint disbelief before he slumped onto Bucky's bed, "Don't break a rib again. It's been nice not having to listen to you whine about sitting, standing... you know breathing."

"Stevie, I'm not gonna get in a fight." Bucky murmured exasperated before he caught the mischievous twinkle in his best friend's eye, "Punk."

"Jerk." Steve replied automatically with a shrug, "Last time you said that you ended up at Mac's and came back looking like a punching bag."

"I was a punching bag." Bucky muttered under his breath before a small smile twitched at the corners of his lips. It had been worth it though, as he remembered the grudgingly concerned ocean blue eyes that had belonged to his guardian angel. The delicious blush that had spread across her cheeks when her teasing directness suddenly turned to unexpected shyness.

"Uh huh." Steve smiled knowingly as he watched a familiar spark enter his friend's gaze. He had been trying to get details of the mystery boxing girl out of Bucky for weeks, but he was being unusually quiet about the girl, "You ever gonna tell me about this dame?"

Bucky quirked a brow at Steve as he shrugged, "There's nothing to tell, Stevie. She got me a rag from the bar and bitched me out about fighting a guy twice my size. Nothing happened."

"Yeah, cuz that's why you smile whenever you think about her." Stevie returned drolly, not believing a word Bucky said. Something had happened, "You don't even smile like that over Mitsy Collins and she's been running you in circles for weeks."

Bucky held in a sigh as he thought about the small redhead down the block. Mitsy had been ignoring his attentions for awhile now, but she did it in a way that said she was unwillingly interested, "Ah Mitsy..."

Steve snorted at the disgruntle look and wistful tone with a shake of his head, "You're hopeless."

"Says you." Bucky said as he grabbed his wallet and coat. Where had he put his keys?

"Where is this party anyway?"

"Manhattan. Some ritzy duplex or something." He answered as he caught sight of his keys on the dresser, "I need to get out of here if I don't want to be late. You gonna be up when I get back? We can go grab drinks or go to Johnny's meet a few girls?"

Steve rolled his eyes, neither option sounding particularly appealing to him, "I have to study."

"Study? Stevie, it's Friday night – go and do something fun for a change." Bucky urged as he tried to get his surrogate brother to leave his hermit ways.

"Studying is fun."

"For who? A monk."

"Well a monastery would be more peaceful than living with you."

"Oh real nice. See if I get you a date again." Bucky sniffed in mock offence.

Steve grinned knowingly, "You will just to annoy me."

"Ain't that the truth. See you later Brother Steve." Bucky called as he headed for the door, grinning as he heard Steve's muttered oath. Yeah, that nickname wasn't going away anytime soon.

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Manhattan

Elena bit back a sigh as she stared over the gleaming wooden balcony of the Lansington's Ballroom. The crystal chandelier obscured her from view of those down below as she watched the colorful patchwork of expensive dresses and jewelry shimmering in the low lamp light, accented in stark contrast by the black and grey suits the men wore and glinting silver of the waitstaff trays.

She didn't want to go down there.

As beautiful as the room was, as beautiful as the people looked – it was all such a lie. A beautiful, beautiful lie. She swirled her champagne, tempted to down the entire flute.

"I hope you don't plan on drinking all of that." Elena glanced up to see Howard strolling toward her. She frowned faintly, not sure how she had missed her cousin's arrival, "You'd have to leave your hiding place to get more after all."

"How'd you know I was up here?" Elena asked quietly as Howard joined her in viewing the masses.

He smirked and gave her a pointed look, "An engagement party for Lucille Lansington and George McAllister which has your mother in attendance and who is more than likely waiting for the opportune moment to berate you for not snatching Georgie boy for yourself... The odds were in my favor that you would be hiding up here."

"I'm not hiding." Elena grumbled as she sipped at her champagne. More than aware her cousin was right – she would have to leave if she finished off the glass, "Don't suppose you brought a bottle with you?"

"Sorry, I had a hard enough time sneaking away from your mother's watchful eye." Howard cringed as he remembered his aunt's heavy gaze, "Swear, Aunt Vitoria could make the devil pause."

Elena snickered quietly, "How long do you think I can get away with being up here?"

"Not long. Lucille's the type to notice an absence – not to mention that Uncle Leo's here and wants to speak with you." Howard murmured as he watched his cousin's shoulder's slump with disappointment. He knew better than anyone that she had hoped her departure from Kingston, from her mother would mean the end to this part of her life. Life had its own plans for his cousin, "Brennan's here too, by the way."

Elena groaned and pressed the flute glass to her forehead. Sometimes she was sure the world conspired against her. Her mother and the man that wanted to marry her all in the same building, "Does he know I'm here?"

"He knows your mother is." Howard stated wryly as he tried to suppress a smile at Elena's suddenly horrified expression. The last thing in the world she needed was for her mother to meet Brennan.

"I'll give you a thousand dollars to kill me." Elena whispered desperately as Howard wrapped a hand around her arm to guide her downstairs.

"Ha, you'd have to pay me a few million to make that happen. Besides you will not leave me with Vitoria. I forbid it." Howard whispered back as they descended the stairs, "The quicker we get down there, the quicker we can leave right?"

"If only." Elena grunted.

As soon as their feet hit the floor it was like a curtain had dropped. Elena's face went blank as she raised an indifferent brow and a benign smile. Howard smirked smugly and stuffed his hands into his pockets. The two cousins spared each other a quick glance before they departed in opposite directions. Mingling was now the name of the game – Elena could only hope that she'd manage not to run into her mother or Brennan.

She didn't notice when a certain server caught sight of her gliding across the ballroom or how his eyes widen in surprise when he took in her soft satin grey gown. She looked like a million dollars to him – he could hardly believe he was looking at the same woman he had met weeks ago.

Elena for her part was oblivious to much in the room as she counted the seconds by in her head. She smiled when appropriate, made conversation when needed. She even danced abit, but then her dance partner was her uncle and he could always coax her into doing things she didn't desire to.

"Now, where is my favorite niece's smile." Leonard Turner asked as he spun her around, "It's a party, my dear duckling. You should be enjoying yourself."

Elena gave him a pointed look as she followed his movements, "I'm your only niece, Uncle. And a duck can only enjoy so much when she's in a room of sharks."

Leo chuckled as he realized that Elena was looking at her mother, "You have never been one to be seen as food for the scourge, my dear. Though I take it your mother has been playing matchmaker again."

Elena shrugged, "I wouldn't know. The last time I spoke with mother she accosted me at Pierre's to inform me of this party and of my poor life choices. She also tried to get me to give her five-thousand dollars, but refused to tell me why she needed it."

Leonard frowned at that last bit of information as he tried to hold in a tired sigh. He would never understand what his brother had seen in that shrew of a woman, "Fergus is to be ousted from the family company soon. I believe that Vitoria has caught on to this fact."

Elena nearly froze in place as she looked up at Leo in surprise. Suddenly, everything regarding her mother's sudden reappearance in her life made sense. She was going to be ill, "What?"

"Your brother's been gambling again and not with his own money this time." Leo explained dourily. Seeing his niece's weary acceptance of that statement somehow made everything that much worse.

"I thought his wife had cured him of that particular habit."

"Apparently not – or it might be the fact that Liza has cast him and your mother from the house. According to Liza, Fergus has been keeping a lady in Jersey." The dull way in which Leo delivered that news let Elena know that he was ready to wash his hands of his nephew.

Elena couldn't help, but chuckle at the latest sordid turn the Turner household had taken, "You know uncle, now would be a perfect time to settle down, produce some heirs. Maybe then this family will have a chance at existing into the next decade, let alone the rest of the century."

Leo snorted, slightly affronted, "You have a cruel sense of humor, Ducks."

"Don't I ever." Elena murmured as the duo finished their dance, "I should fill in Howard."

Leo nodded in understanding as he passed her another glass of champagne, "Do that. Your mother is at you ten, Ducks. Good luck."

Elena didn't even glance to her left as she disappeared from her uncle's side. Despite his warning about Vitoria Turner, Leo did not know about Brennan and too late did Elena notice him in her path. Her eyes widen as she caught sight of him looking at her and like a scared rabbit she veared to her left and attempted to put as many people between them as possible. She felt panic blossom in her stomach as she tried to find a good hiding spot and silently cursed her cousin for making her come downstairs. Elena wouldn't normally call herself a coward, but when it came to overly persistent Frenchmen she couldn't run fast enough it seemed.

She turned down a random corridor of the Lansington home as she heard footsteps quickening behind her. She quietly cursed as she searched for a door or even a damn window to dive through. She didn't make it far before she felt a hand grip her wrist and tug her into an empty room. Elena yelped in surprise and turned, fully prepared to give Brennan a piece of her mind. Her mouth snapped shut, however, as her gaze met a familiar pair of steely-blues. She couldn't help, but stare in astonishment as Bucky quickly snapped the door shut behind him. He held a finger up to his mouth to hold off any comments she wanted to make. A few minutes later they could hear steps echoing down the hall they had just left.

"Well, well maybe it's you who's my guardian angel." Elena whispered softly as she heard the footsteps depart from the hall.

Bucky smirked as he leaned back against the door, "Yeah well you looked like you needed some help."

Elena nodded slightly as she tried to formulate words. It wasn't often she was at a loss, but she honestly never thought she would see her boxer again, "Not playing at being James J. Braddock tonight?"

Bucky's eyes glinted with humor as he shook his head, "Fraid not, sweetheart."

"Mmm, I'm not your sweetheart." Elena corrected with a tilt of her head and a sly smile. She finally overcame her shock enough to fully take him in – it registered distantly that he was working with the wait staff tonight, but damn did he look good, "You clean up well. The lack of blood does wonders."

"I didn't think you minded the blood, doll." He cracked a smile as Elena scrunched her nose at the pet name, "While I took you for a well-to-do type, I didn't realize just how well-to-do you are. You look beautiful by the way."

"Thank you." Elena murmured graciously. She felt a faint blush spreading up her neck, she couldn't stop staring, "Did you get my card?"

Bucky paused as he snatched his wallet from his back pocket. She watched curiously as he slipped out her paper card, "Elena Marie Turner." His eyes flicked up to hers, "You don't look like an Elena."

Elena huffed a small laugh as she eyed him almost incredulously, "You kept it."

Bucky shrugged feeling a little chagrined, "Seemed like the thing to do."

"But you didn't come find me?" Elena asked curiously as she stepped into his space. They were doing a strange dance and she didn't quite know what she was doing anymore. His presence made everything strangely blank... peaceful...better. It shouldn't, she didn't know him.

"Was I supposed to?" Bucky asked teasingly as he smiled winningly at her.

"It's called a calling card for a reason." Elena countered amusedly before she stepped away. She need to clear her head. She felt almost dizzy with... something. For the first time she looked around and noted the room they were in was almost completely empty of furniture. There was a desk and little else.

Bucky seemed to notice her sudden distraction as he followed her gaze, "Most of the rooms in this place are like this. If it weren't for the gathering in the ballroom I would think this place was deserted."

Elena raised an amused brow, "Been snooping have you?"

"Apparently, people like me are only to be seen when necessary. I've only just found a few routes to...disappear." Bucky said almost bitterly as he stepped up behind her.

Elena closed her eyes at that statement. She really did hate the world she lived in – the empty room only proved the truth of her earlier thoughts. It was all just a beautiful lie, "How'd you know I wanted to hide?"

"Saw you come down the stairs earlier and then I saw this joker shadow your every step." Bucky stepped in front of her to lean against the desk. He looked at her speculatively, "You seemed intent on staying away from him. Thought I'd help."

"And I'm most grateful." Elena murmured, "You were watching me?"

"Mmmhmm."

"How did I miss you?" She whispered.

Bucky smiled faintly, uncertain why that quiet question pleased him, "You seemed intent on avoiding your fella and that witch of a woman in the blue dress. Just about dumped my tray on that woman."

Blue dress? Elena blinked before she realized who he was talking about, "I wished you had."

"I can still do that." Bucky murmured, more than willing to shake up the bash outside.

"No." Elena shook her head as she found herself leaning on the desk next to him, "No, I wouldn't want you to lose your job. I prefer this to you being beat to a pulp."

"Why's that, doll?" Bucky felt like he was flirting with danger when Elena looked up at him with her big blue eyes. She could make a man melt under that gaze.

"Just do." Elena murmured quietly, "I like you. Not so much the pet names, but I like you."

It was strange how that small admission felt like she had just given everything away. Elena felt her blush intensify for a moment and she had to fight not to look away from him. She didn't know what was wrong with her. She hadn't acted like this since her first crush when she was thirteen. It was ridiculous.

"Good." Bucky smiled smugly, "I like you too, Ellie."

"Ellie?"

"You look like an Ellie." He said softly, intrigued as she continued to stare at him. He felt as odd as she did. As if he was standing on one leg and was waiting for it to collapse.

And it did.

His eyes widen briefly in surprise when Elena suddenly grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him down into a kiss. Usually, he was the one to initiate anything like this, but he wasn't about to complain. Unthinkingly, his hands found her waist as he pulled her between his legs. Her fingers fluttered up to latch onto the small hairs at the back of his neck, sending chills down his spine. He nipped lightly at her lip and at her gasp of surprise he deepened the kiss. Gently guiding his tongue over hers, silently relishing in the taste of champagne that lingered.

All too soon she was breaking away. Her right hand still clenching at his shirt, but more to keep the distance. He smiled at her flushed cheeks and the heat in her eyes, "You're full of surprises."

"We should get back." Elena said smoothly, but not making a move to leave.

He raised a brow at her, "I don't know about that."

Elena chuckled lightly and finally pushed herself to stand away from him, "I do. We should go back and you should find me later."

Bucky paused as he studied her. He licked his lips and nodded, "I can do that...I can do that."

"Okay." Elena whispered as she moved for the door. She looked back at him as she bit her lip, "Later?"

Bucky smiled, wishing later was now, "Later."

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love-fireflysong · 4 years

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Day 30: Gift

Fandom: Tales of Phantasia Character(s): Cress Albane, Chester Burklight, Mint Adenade, Arche Klein, Claus F. Lester, Suzu Fujibayashi Words: 1944 Rating: General Author’s Notes: Here we are my lovelies. Day 30. And only one day late. I fucking did it. And now I’m not gonna look at a computer screen or word processor for at least a week while I catch up on Persona 5. (I’ve been going through vg withdrawls ya’ll)

Cress knows what his is. Has known since he was nine years old. The day that he was able to properly master his first sword strike. It had just been a standard downward slash, but he hadn’t tripped, or gone off-balance and fallen on his face, or smacked the practice sword into his leg. It had been a simple, clean, and precise downward strike. And his father had been so proud of him for doing it.

Miguel had picked him up in his arms, and spun Cress around, shouting for Maria to come and see! That their little boy was a bona fide swordsman and to show his mother what he can do. It had been one of the best days of life.

The next day, Miguel and Maria had stood solemnly in front of Cress and handed him a bright red headband. They told him that he was officially part of the training school, and that he was now a part of the Albane fighting style. That it would be his job to carry it and pass it on when the time came. Maria had tied the red cloth around his head, and with a cheer had run to go and show it off to Chester.

It’s the one part of his outfit that never changes, even as the years pass and his blond hair fades to white. He will never remove the headband. It’s all he has left to really remember his parents after all.

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Chester is a bit more complicated. He wants to say that it’s the scarf he wears, a birthday gift from Ami before Mars’ soldiers killed her, before everything really. The last thing she had ever given him that survived the fire and destruction of Toltus. But he knows it not. Knows that if anything, it’s his bow.

It hadn’t even been his bow originally either. It had been his mother’s first. Now, both his parents’ had been merchants. Travelling between Toltus and Euclid and Venezia, to deliver and buy goods of all sorts. But his father had been the merchant really, his mother had been more of the muscle as it were. Making sure that the beasts and monsters stayed far from the cart with her pin point accuracy and deadly aim. If Cress had always wanted to be like his father, than Chester wanted grow up and be his mother.

And whenever his parents got to stay home with him and Ami, his mother would always take Chester out on an archery lesson. Showing him how to properly fletch arrows, to take care of a bow, how to hold the bow steady no matter the danger. It was his most fond memories of childhood. And then the brigands had caught his parents unawares when they were returning from Euclid through the cliff pass. From what he had been told, as he was handed the bow that had once been his mother’s, that she had fought bravely. Nearly taking out every single one herself before succumbing to her injuries.

He spends the next few years determined to live up to her legacy, practicing with the bow everyday. So when it was lost and he thought destroyed in that first battle with Dhaos, he had been furious. Just one more thing that Dhaos had managed to take away from him. And then they were in the Elven Village, and watched Cress hand over the broken bow to the elven bowsmith and when he got it back, it was like it had never been broken. It was still his bow—his mother’s bow—no question about it. He would never forget the feel of it in his hands, but it was stronger now, more accurate, more deadly. And as he used it, he had never felt closer to her in his life.

When he finally becomes too old to use it, he hands it down to one of his kids, the one that had wanted to be a hunter just like him. He hopes that they too will pass it on.

--------------------------------------------------------

Like Cress, Mint has no hesitation about what her most favoured gift is. It is her hat. And like Chester, the hat was once her mom’s as well. She remember’s watching her mother work hard to save lives, to heal the sick and injured, to calm their souls. Remember’s learning under her careful and wise guidance to first heal small cuts and wounds, and then cure more powerful ailments of poison. In her young eyes, Meryl Adenade had been the pinnacle of clerical skill.

She hadn’t even wanted the hat in the first place. The unicorn earrings she always worn had been so pretty, and had wanted to try them on. They looked just as pretty as her mom did. Meryl had laughed at that, called her sweet to think so. But had promised her that just like her mother had given her the earrings, she too would pass them onto Mint when the time came. In the meantime, she had taken off her white cap, and placed it reverently on Mint’s head.

Mint had laughed at the time. It had been so large on her small head, nearly covering her eyes and blinding her to the motherly smile on her mom’s face. And Meryl had laughed with her, telling her that though it was too big for her now, she would grow into one day. Just like she would one day grow up to be a great Cleric, like her mother, and grandmother before her.

Unfortunately, the hat would be all she would ever receive. Meryl was killed by Mars, just like he had killed Cress’s parents and Chester’s sister, so she would never get the earrings as she had been promised. But it’s fine. The hat is more than enough. It is a sign of her station, that she is a healer first and foremost.

She will wait until she has her own daughter to pass it on too. And then watch as she grows into the hat just as Mint did.

--------------------------------------------------------

Despite being so different in all sorts of ways, it seems that Mint and Claus do have one thing in common. Like her, his favourite gift will always be his hat. But unlike her, it was not a gift from a deceased parent, but rather Mirald, though she had gotten it from their missing friend.

It had been not long after he had truly been evicted from the Alvanista Royal Academy for his studies on spirits and the possibilities for humans to use magic. Furious, Claus had started doing everything he could to prove those entitles assholes who had their head so far up their asses that they hadn’t seen the sun in years wrong. He found everything he could to confirm his theories, their theories. Sat through the agonizing pain as an old fortune teller painted magical seals onto his skin. Wore jewelry and odd clothes that would attract the attention of the spirits, to strengthen his bond with them. Anything to prove that he had been right.

That Mirald had been right. That he had been right.

She gifts the hat to him nearly ten years before Cress and Mint pop into his life and prove everything they had known to be true. Mirald tells him it’s to keep the sun from cooking his already baked brain any further. They both know its to cover the real reason, that he would want Claus to have it.

He swears that he will never pass it on. It wasn’t his to do so. It shouldn’t have even been Claus’s in the first place.

--------------------------------------------------------

Now, Arche knows exactly what people think hers is: her broom. It’s obivous isn’t it? She’s never without it, and hate’s to walk anywhere, preferring to fly. They would be wrong. A lesser few people might assume the blue ribbon she uses to tie her hair up. It’s closer to truth, but still not right.

The correct answer is actually the lone blue earring she wears in her left ear.

Her father had told her, that before her mom had died, that she had left the earring for Arche to remember her. To know that she would always be with her even if she wasn’t there anymore. She is seven when she finally convinces poor Bart into piercing his daughter’s ear so she can wear the blue orb all the time.

She does find out that her mother actually isn’t dead, just forced to leave her young daughter and husband behind to go back to live with the elves. The thing that clues her in isn’t the strange elven woman running out shouting to spare Arche’s life, nor the odd similarities in their faces. But when being escorted out, remembering seeing a blue round earring, identical to her own, in the elven woman’s own ear.

It turns out that even though Bart may have been lying about Luche’s death, he had at least been telling the truth about the earring. So she never takes it off. It’s her one constant after hundreds of years of living. Brooms may break down and turn to dust, ribbons tatter and fade over time, but the earring never loses it blue luster and Arche plans to keep it that way.

--------------------------------------------------------

Suzu is harder to pin down. There’s so little about her that stands out when compared to the other ninja’s in her village. And that’s they way it’s supposed to be. A ninja must be unseen, and blend in with the environment before giving the one fatal strike needed to kill her target and fleeing before anyone knows she was there. The only singular thing that differentiates her from the other people of her village, is the pink ribbon keeping her hair tied back and out of her face.

And even then, most would probably look over it. She’s only a child after all, nothing unusual about the bright color of a ribbon. Except there is. Suzu is a prodigy after all, the heir to the village clan, it will be her that stands up to lead it one day. And so she takes to her duty and training with a seriousness unbecoming of most eleven year old children. So the almost girlish ribbon is an oddity.

And truth be told, it was a gift. From her grandfather in fact, just before Dhaos returned and brainwashed her parents. He had given it to her and praised her for all her work, how proud she is making her parents and all her teachers. But had also reminded her that it’s okay to be a little girl if she needs to, that there’s no shame in any of it.

Suzu thanks her grandfather for the gift and his wise words, and tosses it into her room and forgets about it. Until, that it, her mother and father flee the village with a large portion of the higher trained ninja and kunochi. She knows that it is her responsibility to stop them, they are her parents after all, but before she leaves, ties the pink ribbon into her hair. A small, childish part of her hopes that they will recognize it, recognize her, and come to their senses.

They never do, not until they are on death’s door and they apologize for what they have done her, and to the clan. She keeps the ribbon in anyway. Keeps wearing it until long after she has outgrown it. It’s fine, she decides. The colors nice, its sweet.

And if there’s anything she learned while travelling with Cress and the others, it’s that she likes sweet things.

#pride month prompt challenge #my writing #tales of phantasia #cress albane #chester burklight #mint adenade #claus f lester #arche klein #suzu fujibayashi #4!#i wrote goddamn 4 of these in under 24 hours!#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#done!

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redfoxwritesstuff · 5 years

Text

Of Dust and Ashes (Chapter 12)

Good morning, loves. Did you miss me? Or rather, since I was here last week (and every day, I have no life, don’t judge me) did you miss Dee?

Clint x ofc, Rated M, chapter warnings: None

As some of you are surely aware by now, December 4th is my birthday. I have a ticket to see Betrayal that night. The problem is I’m on the other side of country. Check out my jewelry posts for handmade chainmaille and other pendants I’m selling to raise funds for the trip (Because life happens and money is tighter than we expected) or feel free to buy me a ko-fi.

@redfoxcrafts is the sideblog where you can find all the jewelry.

Masterlist

~~~~~<3

Chapter 12: One foot in front of the other (about one month post snap)

It was warm, though rain continued to patter against the roof. She felt warm and comfortable. Deanna didn’t want to open her eyes and face the day. Under her nose, the ear of the stuffed fox tickled her and she tried to ignore it. For a bit, she was successful and continued to doze as she nuzzled deeper into the firm warmth.

Wind gusted and the RV rocked slightly. The movement was enough to shift the bodies in the bed. Trust let out a whine as he rolled over before snorting a breath. The firm mass of warmth seemed to tighten around her, holding her closer somehow. It was the most restful sleep she had since… something? It didn’t matter. A few more minutes of sleep and she’d get up and make breakfast for the kids. A soft snore left the mass of firm warmth and she realized with a start that it was a man she was cuddled next to.

She jerked away harshly. Trust lifted his head, checking for the source of her commotion only to rest it back down on his paw. The warmth wrapped around her bare waist tightened, causing her to pull back with more force on instinct alone.

~~~<3

Clint was forced awake with a start. There wasn’t much he was aware of in that first instant, yet in some ways he was aware of everything. His arm tightened around to body pressed against him as every part of him tensed. He listened and upon finding no reason for the panic, he let his arm go slack as he sat up.

“Dee, what’s up?” He mumbled, rubbing his eye. She kept scooting and right before she reached the edge of the bed, he reached out for her. “Hey, hey. You’re going to fall off. What’s wrong?”

“I… Clint?” The sound of his voice calmed her.

“Yeah, Dee. It’s me.” Sitting up, he reached for her. It’s hard to say if he reached out for her to calm his own frazzled nerves or to calm her. To his own relief, she allowed him to scoop her into his arms. She clung to him as he held her, tears giving away her silent cries. “What happened?”

“I-” Clint lead her through a deep breath before she tried again. “I’ve been alone so long. I realized I wasn’t and…”

“It scared you?” Clint asked. “I’m sorry. I- I shouldn’t have.”

“Stop.” Thin fingers dug into his arm where she cling to him, his arms wrapped around her protectively. “You were going to say you shouldn’t have stayed, right?”

“Yeah. I didn’t-”

“You didn’t upset me.”

“You nearly fell out of the bed to get away from me.” Clint pointed out.

“It’s been almost a year since I’ve woken up with a man in my bed. And with everything that happened… I- It startled me is all.”

“Tonight, I can-”

“Stay. If you want, that is.” She finished for him. “I slept better than I have in months. It will take some getting used to. Everything takes getting used to now.”

“Time helps.”

“Will it?” She asked.

“It will. It won’t ever go away, but it helps.” Clint was waiting for time to pass, himself. Each day after the snap was one day farther away from the day he failed his family.

“I was so comfortable. I was so relaxed.”

“What changed?”

“I was thinking how I should enjoy it until… They woke me up. Because the bed was so warm, I felt- I felt safe.”

“You are safe.”

~~~~~<3

Clint was kind, helping Deanna to gather her clothes and stepping out for her to dress. Her ex husband had never been as considerate. When she called him back in, he had his shirt slipped back on. A part of her that had been dormant for far too long had whispered in disappointment to see his firm chest and defined abs covered by the clingy cloth.

“What’s the morning chores?” He asked after helping her hobble into the living space.

“Normally I check out the windows for anyone hiding outside. Then I go outside and walk around, checking that nothings weird.”

“Ever find anything?” Clint asked, checking out the front of the cab and beginning to work his way around.

“Once.” She answered, shortly. It was clear that it wasn’t something she wanted to talk about.

“Guess it’s a good thing you handled it well enough to still be here.” Clint made his way out from the bedroom, brushing his hand across her lower back as he checked out the window in front of the sink. Just as it had the night prior, the simple touch of affection and reassurance gave her warmth. “Everything looks clear. I’ll go do the walk around.”

“It’s raining.” Clint smiled at her concern. It felt good to have someone worry over him stepping out in the rain.

“I promise not to melt.”

Deanna laughed as he slipped his boots on. With his bow and quiver slung over his shoulder, he gave her a warm smile. Then he slipped out the metal door, leaving her standing in the living space with a bemused smile on her face. Could this be something she got used to? Was this something she wanted to continue after her ankle healed and she could drive again?

With a shake of her head, she opened the curtains over the sink. It felt safer, knowing that he was outside, checking the area. It felt safer, knowing she wasn’t alone. Deanna put such thoughts out of her mind, instead focusing on keeping weight off her foot while preparing first coffee. Once that was accomplished, she started on getting a simple breakfast going.

The coffee pot was almost full and eggs were sizzling in one pan when Clint came in through the door, announcing an ‘all clear’ ruling as he slipped out of the muddy boots. In the second pan, she had slices of ham cooking up. It wasn’t bacon but it was better than nothing. On two places to the side were slices of toast, fresh out of the toaster.

“Smells delicious.” Clint offered, wasting no time in doctoring him a cup of coffee before making one for her. “How do you take it?”

“Just some sugar is fine.” Deanna slipped eggs onto plates before adding the ham.

With the burners turned off, she picked up one plate and handed it to him. Clint set it and his coffee on the table next to the mug he made for her. Deanna took a step, forgetting momentarily about her foot and as pain flared to life, watched as the plate of valuable food slipped out of her fingers.

She expected it to hit the ground, a waste and mess both for her to lament for the rest of the day. Instead, Clint reached out and in one hand, caught the plate and all it’s contents. His other hand slipped around her waist, taking the weight off her foot before she could crumple to the ground.

Setting the plate aside, he slipped the now free hand under her knees and swept her up off her feet. “You’ve got to take it easy. Let it heal.”

“I just feel so useless.” Deanna grumbled as he set her on the dinette bench.

“Well, you feed me- that’s a task on its own.” Clint smiled, sitting down across from her. “It will heal and then you’ll be as good as new.”

“I hope so.”

“The weather’s terrible today. We can head out or ride the storm out, your choice.” Clint offered, between bites of food.

“How far is it?”

“A few hours to my place.” He shrugged. “Could be longer depending on the weather. It's about a hundred miles, give or take.”

“I guess we’ll wing it.”

“So, tell me about your set up?” Clint leaned back, plate cleared of food. It was so damn nice to not be eating out of a can. “How did this end up being your plan?”

“It wasn’t really my plan.” Deanna admitted before launching into the story of Lewis, her first short lived companion. When she fell silent, he reached out and took her hand in his. It made sense to him now why she feared for his life. They each had seen a lot of death in the last handful of weeks but he knew how speaking of it seemed to make it feel all the more

“It’s a pretty smart set up.” Clint offered when her story was finished and she seemed steady once again. “The solar panels can keep you in power for years. At least on clear days. Having a functioning shower, way to store a lot of water, a way to keep waste out of it, a way to store and cook food... you’ve got everything you need for the first year, assuming you can keep warm through the winter”

“A lot of good the solar is doing us now. Batteries will be dry soon.” She scoffed.

“I saw the generator on the back. I can start it up, if you want to hang here. Or we can get moving and stop later.” Clint offered and she shrugged.

“It’s not like I can drive.”

“Hey,” With a squeeze of her hand, he waited for her to look at him again. “I’m not taking over, okay? For as long as we’re together, we’re a team. We make decisions together and you get final say. Okay?”

She nodded and he squeezed her hand again. “Okay.”

“What chores still need doing?” Clint added, when she was about to protest, “You’re ankle needs to rest.”

“Trust needs feeding and to be let out. While he’s doing his thing I normally check the plants in the greenhouse. Then I kinda just… do whatever? I’ve been meandering around, trying to decide where I want to go before it gets cold and grab what supplies I need on the way. I didn’t really have a long term plan. I guess I haven't really thought more than a few weeks

“Makes sense. The government said they would be providing aid. You have no reason to doubt them.”

“Clint, is there any aid coming? Is anyone coming to help?”

“I… I don’t think so. Not anytime soon on a federal level, last I heard.”

“Last you heard? What does that mean?”

“That I’ve fallen off the grid a bit. I just… I couldn’t face them. But last I heard, there are massive holes in the government. A lot of people are not sure who they are reporting to right now and just doing the best they can. A lot of those who didn’t get Dusted abandoned their posts.”

“Is there even a United States anymore?”

Clint shrugged. “Not really, no. I wouldn’t say so at least.”

When Deanna didn’t ask anything else, Clint stood and picked up the dishes and made quick work of the washing up. As if it had always been his duty as he poured kibble into Trust’s bowl and refilled the water dish before grabbing a jug of water for the plants. With boots slipped on and a nod her way, he disappeared out the door, leaving Deanna with her thoughts.

~~~~~<3

Clint stood motionless outside the door for a moment. He felt the heavy weight in his chest as it threatened to suffocate him. If he wasn’t careful, that weight could crush him. It was hard to say if he deserved to be crushed by that weight.

Looking up, he let the rain fall on his face. It was more of a misty sprinkle now but dark clouds were on the horizon. The rain was dirty, falling from a dust filled sky and left a oily residue behind.

Part of him wanted nothing more than to rush though his tasks, rush the Dog through his potty break and head back inside. Dee would surely let him take a shower. A hot shower would feel amazing too, washing away the grim and grief and be clean of it. That was until it collected again.

Another part of him, that part that hated himself for how easy he had found it to fall into the embrace of a woman who wasn’t Laura wanted to stand out in the rain all day. Let the oily dust and ashes cover him, soak into his clothes and hair. Mark him up for the failure, for the traitor he was.

Thunder clashed in the distance. He needed to get moving, if they were going to cover any distance today at all. A storm was coming. Someone at SHIELD had mentioned something about storms being expected to be an issue in the first year. He couldn’t for the life of him remember who it was who said it or why that was. Probably dust and ash and electricity or something along those lines. It hadn’t mattered at the time.

Laura had always loved storms. He hated them, they made working and hunting harder. But she had always seen the positive side of things. She reveled in the show of nature. There were many times when she would disappear from the house after the kids had gone to bed. Clint would find her standing on the porch, mug of tea in hand and eyes glued to the sky as lightening danced in the distance.

Laura. Now she was a part of the thing she had so loved, in a way. That brought the slightest comfort to his troubled heart. With a heavy sigh, he made his way to the greenhouse on wheels, opened the door and sat on the dirty ground. With his head hanging in his hands, he tried to think straight.

A bolt of lightening cut through the sky in the distance and part of him wondered if it was Laura, giving him a sign. It was irrational at best. Still, it made him think. While this weight was trying to crush him alive, he had to stop and ask himself: What would Laura actually think? What would she want him to do?

Move on. Move forward. Find his way.

She wouldn’t want him to live in the past. She was gone. The kids were gone. Natasha had said it herself, the Stones were gone. There was no undoing the decimation. No one could bring them back. All anyone could do was move forward. There wasn't a rule book saying how long he had to take, how soon was too soon.

Perhaps Dee had been a blessing. She was smart and quick. She was managing to survive after her own children were turned to dust, much like his. Together, they could offer each other a measure of comfort. Together, they could try and move forward.

“Oh, Laura.” Clint sighed the words as he stood up, feeling his age now more than perhaps ever before. “Forgive me.”

Seemingly meant just for him, a bolt of lightening danced across the sky. It was large and bright with many branches. It was the kind of bolt Laura had always been excited to catch sight of.

Clint smiled, feeling the weight around his chest lighten just a hair and made his way out of the oily mist and into the greenhouse. The plants needed watering and he would do well to check the trailer’s connections and stability of the greenhouse shed while he was at it.

~~~~~<3

Deanna hobbled her way about the RV, taking a careful shower while Clint worked outside. While she scrubbed herself clean, she tried to talk herself out of feeling whatever it was she was beginning to feel. The man had been a familiar face and nothing more not even 24 hours ago.

He had the weight of the world on his shoulders. In his heart, he held the grief of being the lone survivor of his family. She had no business wanting anything from him more than simple kindness and to drive her RV until she could.

It wouldn’t do to let her heart get ahead of her. It would be best if she prevented emotions from getting wrapped up in what was surely going to be a simple short companionship. He was kind. He was sweet. He was thoughtful. He was flirty. He was confident. It didn’t have to mean anything more.

Shutting off the water, she toweled dry and dressed. Hobbling out of the bathroom, she smiled up at him when Clint walked through the door. “You’ve got to be chilled. Go, take a shower and rinse that… grime off of you.”

It was easier to call it ‘grime’ than what it was. Dust. Ash. Residue of what had once been people.

“I hoped you would offer.” Clint laughed, pulling his wet shirt up and over his head.

Deanna tried not to look as he leaned outside and twisted the fabric. Dark water poured out of it but she wasn’t watching that. One deep breath in and she closed her eyes. He was only a friend.

“We can stop in the next town, hopefully I can find some dry clothes until we get to my place.” Clint set the still damp shirt in the sink as he made his way inside. Trust, knowing better than to go into the living space with the grim and mud on him took his place behind the seats in the cab of the RV.

“Sounds good.” Her voice was tighter than she would have liked.

“You okay?” Of course he noticed. If there was anything she had ever wished he didn’t notice in the last 24 hours, that would be it. At least, she reasoned, he didn’t call her out on the way she was looking at his exposed torso- if he even noticed at all.

“Fine.” The answer was too quick but he let it slide. “I’ve got a generator at my place, we can hook you up to it and you won’t have to worry about power. I’m sure I’ve got an electric heater we can use to heat this so you’re not running gas as much too. The well water is clean so we won’t have to worry about that.”

“I don’t want you to burn through your generator’s fuel for me.” Sitting down on the couch, she was thankful to at least be off her feet. It was easier to avoid moving her ankle if she wasn’t standing.

“It’s not a problem. It’s kind of self fueling.” Clint shrugged, making his way toward the shower.

“What, like Stark Tower?” She called after him.

“Yeah, on a much smaller scale though. Tony wanted to see if he could out fit it on a small scale and have the power source remain stable. I’ve got the first successful test. He had hoped to take it public in the next few years but...” Clint shrugged and she understood. The world changed and now, there was more pressing matters on the minds of those who remained than something like ‘free power’.

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @usedtobegoodfriend96, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @winterisakiller, @tnystrk-exe, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @carissime72, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @myoxisbroken, @wegingerangelica

#clint barton x reader #clint barton x female reader #clint barton x ofc #clint barton x oc #clint barton x you #dark fic

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giftofthepromisering · 6 years

Text

Authors Note: This is the first try at chapter 1 of “Gift of the Promise Ring”.

This isn’t necessarily the final draft. As I write the story and plan things out further, things may change. This initial chapter is more of a testing ground of sorts. Comments and critiques are welcomed.

I hope you enjoy this first part!

Chapter 1: Welcome to Amatus

Darkness.

Nothing but empty, soulless darkness.

No matter where I look, there's no one around for miles. Occasionally I think I might have seen something. Perhaps it was a flash of light. I don't know. I could never quite find it.

Maybe I'm not supposed to find it.

Maybe it's supposed to find me.

When Braith opened their eyes, all they could see was a thick fog for miles on end. The grass beneath dampened with morning dew shimmered in what little light managed to make its way through. Braith slowly stood, adjusting their vest while trying to remember what had transpired just moments before.

But they couldn't. Everything was muddled, hidden away behind a strong haze.

All they knew was that they weren't home anymore.

"This isn't good," Braith muttered. "Where-"

The ground began to shake before they could finish. With every rumble the fog began to clear. The sky above was a gentle shade of blue, with soft clouds gliding lazily along with the breeze. A fox-like creature towering nearly five stories high sprinted across the grass, its mangled claws caked in dirt as it tore apart the meadow. Jagged teeth curled out from its mouth dripping with fresh blood. Upon its forehead was a single black star as soulless as its eyes.

And running just ahead of the beast was a figure in a long, billowing cloak.

"RUN!"

Braith turned on their heal and sprinted as fast as they could in a vain attempt to escape the creature. Their heart pounded against their chest as the fear took hold. Had this been any other day, they wouldn't have listened to a stranger telling them what to do. But to be fair, they didn't want to die today. The stranger easily caught up to them, grabbing their hand and pulling them a few feet ahead.

"What is that thing?!" Braith yelled.

"Less talking, more running!" the stranger huffed. "We're almost to the end! Get ready to jump!"

"What?!"

"Now!"

I'm not in a position to argue.

Braith jumped as hard as they could, gripping the stranger's hand as tightly as possible as they reached the end of the field. Their eyes widened as they saw the dark waters and jagged rocks below. The beast skidded in a desperate attempt to keep from following.

"We're gonna die!" they screamed.

"Not today!"

The stranger pulled them close, smirking as a decorative oak door faded into view. It swung open, letting them in just as the beast was about to grab them. Once they were completely through the door, it closed shut, and Braith felt their back hit the hardwood floor of a store. As the strong sent of herbs wafted through the air, Braith felt their breathing begin to slow, and the strong sense of terror slipped away.

I'm alive, they thought. I can't believe I'm alive!

"For the love of Laurie, Ryllis! You can't just go using my Apothecary like this!"

But maybe I won't be for long.

"Sorry Greyson," the stranger chuckled. "I didn't really have a choice. That Starbeast-"

"Yeah, yeah. Just go wash up. I'll be out once I'm done with my potions."

"Got it!" The stranger slowly stood up, reaching a hand out to Braith with a smile. "Sorry for the scare, my friend. Are you alright?"

Braith looked them over as they took the hand, taken aback by their calm demeanor. "I'm alright, I think."

"That's good." The stranger pulled them off the floor, undoing the clasp on their cloak. "The name's Amaryllis. I'm a Shepherd. What's your name?"

"Braith Sullivan," they answered, pulling their hand away.

"Nice to meet you," Amaryllis said. "Again, sorry for the scare. I figured you didn't want to die today."

"Understatement of the century. Now where the hell am I?"

Amaryllis shrugged and turned toward the counter. "Amatus is what we call it. Though if you mean this little shop specifically, it's the Vanishing Apothecary. Greyson runs it and this place comes and goes-" they paused to glance at the array of charms hanging from the wall behind them "-whenever they see fit. Or when someone needs medical attention. Whichever comes first."

"Right. And that thing back there was-?"

"Starbeast. Nasty little Morts, the lot of them."

"You call that little?!"

"Trust me, that one was." Amaryllis set their cloak on a nearby hook before motioning to the hall on their right. "Come on. Greyson's making potions, and in the meantime you and I can get washed up in the guest rooms. We have a lot to talk about, Other Worlder."

Braith hesitated, watching Amaryllis closely as they spoke. Much like themself, Shepherd was covered head to toe in muck and grime from their brush with death. Their brow was pinched in exhaustion, and their arm seemed to be shaking beneath their sleeve.

And yet they still smiled, trying their best to be as patient as possible.

"Alright," Braith mumbled. "Show me to the room, please?"

"Certainly. Right this way."

Braith followed Amaryllis down the hall, arms crossed defensively as they glanced around at the walls. There were framed pictures of various herbs and their uses, along with some strange looking plants they'd never even heard of. The walls themselves were a gentle emerald hue, embellished with silver flourishes lining the edges, much like the library back at their grandfather's house.

Grandpa Bayard!

"Wait a minute." Braith hurried to catch up to them. "How am I supposed to get home?"

Amaryllis stopped in their tracks, staring at Braith with a bemused look. "Oh, you want to go home now? When you're all dirty?"

"I need to get back," they insisted. "I'm supposed to be helping my grandpa with the attic, not...be wherever this is. Please, I need to get back to my family."

"I see." Amaryllis held out their hand, nodding to Braith's arms. "Can I see your Ring?"

"Ring?"

"On your finger. You're wearing a Ring right now, aren't you?"

Braith held out their hands, perplexed. They never wore rings. They didn't really wear any jewelry. They didn't like how restrictive the pieces felt on them. Just a simple wristwatch was enough to make them anxious if they had to wear it for more than an hour.

And yet, there on their left hand was the ring. A simple gold band with three cracked stones embedded into the metal.

Amaryllis let out a soft tut at the sight of it. "Looks like you're not going home anytime soon, kid. You're out of travel power. You're gonna have to stay here for a while."

"I what?!" This had to be a lie. There was no way they could be stuck. "No, no, no, no, you don't understand. I can't stay here! Grandpa needs me! I have a little brother, Rory. I can't leave him! Mom still needs me!"

"Believe me, I get it," Amaryllis soothed. "Braith, I'd love to help you out and get you home right away, but at the moment you're stuck here." They held up Braith's hand, pointing to the ring on their finger. "You see this? This is a Promise Ring. It's a magic item unique to people here."

"Magic?" Braith couldn't believe what they were hearing. "Magic isn't real!"

Oh yes it is, my friend," they continued. "Now pay attention. Seem those gems in the Ring allow you to travel anywhere in the world, but they crack after use. Chances are you used the last one getting here. Now you don't have any ability to travel with the Ring. Got it?"

"Okay," they stammered. "Then, then can you take me to a jeweler and have them replaced or-"

" I'm afraid it doesn't work like that." They let go, continuing on to the end of the hall before entering a room on the right. "We'll talk in a bit. Your room is right there. Get washed up, okay?"

"But-"

"You're not the first person who came here unintentionally. Please trust me. We'll help you, just be patient."

Without another word, Amaryllis went into the room and locked the door.

Frustrated, Braith threw their hands up, cursing under their breath as they went into the other guest room. They wanted to get back home now. But they weren't keen on trying to brave the world on their own. For now, they'd have to play by Amaryllis' rules.

At least now it's nice and quiet, they thought.

Braith took a moment to explore the room in an attempt to glean any knowledge they could. It was a simple space no bigger than a typical bedroom, with powder blue walls decorated with framed children's paintings of people with diverse wings. The bed sat in the corner with a matching nightstand, freshly made with cotton sheets and a warm comforter. There was a closet that housed pajamas of all sizes, and a small bathroom with a bathtub, sink, and toilet, with towels hanging from a bar on the wall. There was a shelf with bottles of what appeared to be soap, and the bath came with a shower head. Nothing seemed to be hiding anywhere.

For all intents and purposes, it resembled any other bedroom back home.

What a relief, Braith thought. The room was safe. With one less thing on their mind, they turned to the next task and set to work cleaning themself up. They set the ring on the nightstand, leaving their dirty clothing on the floor in the corner. They'd wash those afterwards.

The heat of the water against their skin felt like heaven. The showers back home never got this hot. All the tension seemed to melt away as Braith washed the dirt out of their hair, the smell of fresh berries seeping into the violet strands as they lathered. They hadn't realized how much they'd needed this before now.

I could get used to having these kinds of showers. Maybe I'll work on fixing our showers up once I get back home.

If I ever get home.

"Don't start," they groaned. "You're not gonna be talking down to yourself today, Sulli. You will make it back home. Just be patient. You'll figure this out. You can do this."

Deciding not to dwell on the uncertainty, they finished their wash with a plan in mind. First, they'd learn more about this supposed magic. Get some kind of proof, just to make sure this was legitimate. The entrance to the shop could have easily been just an optical illusion, and the beast simply some kind of prop. They had to make sure that this so-called magic was real. Afterwards, they'd find a map. Get their bearings and figure out where exactly this Amatus was. After that, ask for a way home.

Magic proof, map, way home. It was only three things, but right now they needed it to be a simple list. Magic proof, map, way home. They could handle that much right now. Braith needed to keep things simple.

When Braith finally left the bathroom, their found that their clothes had been taken away. In their place was two new outfits left on the bed. One was a grey tunic with a pair of black trousers and a binder, the other a set of blue satin pj's, along with a note which read "Dinner shall be ready in an hour or so. I'm going to wash your clothes. You can rest in here until dinner, so feel free to nap. I'll come get you when it’s ready. Welcome to Amatus. -G."

With the last of the adrenaline finally leaving their system, Braith decided the nap would be a good idea. They put on the pj's, setting the other clothes on the nightstand before crawling under the covers. The sheets felt cool against their face, and they couldn't help but smile as they fell asleep.

#Gift of the Promise Ring #Braith Sullivan #Shepheard Amaryllis #greyson mcginley

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indigo-streaks-in-her-hair · 7 years

Text

and your shaky hands [ eh x r ]

fandom : Dear Evan Hansen by : Summer pairing : Evan Hansen x Reader summary : You find origami to be a great coping mechanism regarding your unstable hands. Spending the day with Evan, you think he could give it a try. word count: 3,333 warnings: Cussing?? idk a / n : Originally titled “origami” but i found another imagine with the same title and didn’t want to copy or whatever. This is (probably) the first imagine I write for this blog!! Yay, okay I hope this is a good way to start this off, and if you do read this, bless your souls and I love you. Any sort of support is sincerely respected: liking, commenting, reblogging, following, anything! Constructive criticism is always appreciated :) Thanks, and enjoy! Much love. -S

Shaky hands were always an issue with you.

Like that time you were four and you heard the ice cream truck coming down your street.

You grabbed your mother by the arm and begged her to let you buy something. She reluctantly allowed you to and walked out to the sidewalk. You saw the truck making its way slower and slower towards you and began bouncing with excitement. The truck came to a full stop, the driver giving you an award-winning smile. You pointed out what you had been craving the most and your mom handed him the money. He lowered the sweet to your small self, and without a single hesitation, you snatched it out of his hands.

Taking a large bite you could feel your whole body tingling with joy and excitement. Unfortunately a painful pulsing made its way around your head and you felt your treat wobble violently in your unsteady hands.

Long story short, you dropped your ice cream.

Now it seems like a stupid thing to cry over but back then it was an overwhelming amount of trauma for a four year old.

There was also that time in second grade when you wanted to make a bracelet for that cute boy Evan Hansen.

It was art class and you had a light blue (Evan’s favorite color) piece of yarn and a styrofoam bowl of plastic beads of various shades in front of you. And you were absolutely determined to finish this bracelet before the class was over.

It was going well, you had about 2/3 of the yarn threaded with beads and a nice color pattern going on as well. It wasn’t until you decided to glance over at Evan sitting at another table by himself that things went entirely wrong. String in one hand, bead in the other, you couldn’t help but blush and smile at how cute he was. Heat made its way over your cheeks and suddenly you were paranoid over what he might think of the bracelet.

What if he doesn’t like the color pattern you chose? What if he thinks jewelry is too “girly”? What if he thinks you’re super weird to just randomly give him a gift like that?

Of course your hands shook again. Noticing the obvious spasms, you desperately made an attempt to conceal it. Ignorant little you didn’t see that pulling your hands under the table would cause you to drop the beads that were so carefully threaded on your yarn. Tears welled up in your eyes once more as the loud clatter of plastic hitting the hard tiles resonated in the small room. Several other kids looked at you, including Evan.

Embarrassing and traumatizing.

And there was also that time in eight grade when you had to present a partnered speech in front of the entire class for some school project.

Over the years, you and Evan had grown closer due to when you mustered up the courage to sit with him at lunch the years prior. From there, you two became an inseparable pair. Obviously you’d choose your best friend to be your partner in this project. You both had a mutual hatred of public speaking so you two completely understood each other. The actual project was easy, and completed just a few days later. The presentation however, not so easy.

The teacher had called yours and Evan’s names so you both made your way to the front of the room. He was looking down at the note cards in his hands and twiddling his thumbs. You gently placed your hand on his arm for some sort of reassurance. That, however, was debatably a regretful decision. The moment you made contact with him, you felt your hands tingle and something red creeping up the back of your neck.

Growing anxious of the familiar feeling, your hands shook uncontrollably. Your teacher pressed a button on the stopwatch to time your speech and uttering the first sentence with a stutter, the note cards slipped out of your unstable hands. In a painfully slowed down perspective of time, you could examine every humiliating moment occurring in front of you. The stifles of laughters, the flying scattered note cards, the rapidly growing numbers of the stopwatch, the teacher’s seething judgement, and worst of all, Evan’s overwhelming concern.

You made a mad dash to the bathroom, not even asking to be excused.

Since then you’ve decided to take matters into your own hands (ironically).

You looked up several ways you could find any control over your alienated hands. You tried several tactics, such as yoga and meditation. You even made up a few of your own ways. For example, your hands shook when you were nervous and when you’re nervous your body starts to speed up and sweat, so what better way to stop a sweat than to cool down? You held ice in your hands until they stung. It didn’t work.

There was, however, one thing that helped you gain control over your hands at least in the slightest. Origami. Origami required precise folding, otherwise it just became more difficult throughout the steps. Not only was it a practice for your hands, but it was also a calming thing to do, since it didn’t require so much hard effort and took your attention only to gliding over the thin paper. You picked up on it almost immediately, and folded up the widest variety of paper models. Birds, flowers, cats, unicorns, and everything in between, you grew to love the folding art. The one piece you made the most were the infamous paper cranes.

Paper cranes littered your desk, hung from your ceiling fan, and even decorated your school locker. And yes, the younger you had tried to fold a thousand paper cranes before but gave up not more than a couple hundred.

Now you were trying to incorporate origami into Evan’s shaky hand problem.

You were laying in bed when your phone buzzed with a text notification from none other than Evan Hansen himself. You immediately answered it.

From: Evan💙 (Attachment: 1 Image) I just got my cast off.

The picture was extremely revealing and scandalous. Evan’s bare arm. Judging from the bedsheets in the background, he was already at home.

To: Evan 💙 we gotta go celebrate!! i’m taking you out to ice cream right now.

And just like that, you grabbed your keys and rushed out the door. When you received another text, you were already on the road. Within a few minutes, you were parked in Evan’s driveway. Picking up your phone, you read what Evan had texted you.

From: Evan 💙 You don’t have to!!

Giggling, you replied.

To: Evan 💙 too late. look out your window.

Stepping out of your car, you looked up at the window to Evan’s room. Sure enough, he was there, waving at you shyly. You shot him a smile and an enthusiastic wave and he made his way to the front door. Meeting him at the doorframe, you embraced him graciously. Pulling back you, held his left arm, and examined it gently.

“Find what you’re looking for?” Evan joked.

“Yeah, I was totally looking for a badly tanned arm,” you placed your thumb over the paled line created from his cast.

Evan let out a slight chuckle.

“More importantly,” you added, “you’re all healed! Praise the lord! Kumbaya and all that! Mwah!” You placed a loud, exaggerated kiss on his arm. Evan’s ears darkened red.

You dragged him to your car, very excited for ice cream. The car ride consisted of you asking what “grand and daring plans” Evan had, now that his arm was free. And when he said he had none, you made a very extravagant list.

At A La Mode, after buying your treats, you talked and joked until something caught your attention. Evan had a splotch of ice cream on his cheek. While Evan was describing an event that happened when he worked as an apprentice park ranger, you picked up your napkin, leaned in, and wiped it gently across his cheek. Evan stopped mid sentence, freezing almost immediately at your touch.

You let your palm linger on his soft skin. His heavy breathing was apparent against your hand. You almost swore his cheeks flushed a shade of pink. Not wanting to make eye contact, you trailed your eyes down to his chest and quickly pulled your head back when you noticed Evan’s ice cream dripping down his arm and onto his shirt. He noticed it too.

He made a slight panicked noise and fumbled with his napkin, trying to clean up the mess that was up and down his arm. He lifted his cone to lick the side which only caused some more of the melted ice cream to fall on his pants. You could hear him let out a frustrated groan as you grabbed him some more napkins, and giggled.

“Here,” you started, “let’s crash at my place and I’ll find you some of my clothes to change into. Then later we can watch a movie or whatever.”

You brushed the napkins roughly against the stain on Evan’s shirt. He tensed up at the sudden chill against his chest.

“Do you,” he started, and you paused to make eye contact with him, “I mean- well, it-it’s just that, do you have clothes that would fit? F-Fit me? Or wouldn’t that be like, ya know, weird or-or something for me to wear your, uh, clothes?”

“Evan, if you haven’t realized, my entire closet consists of huge sweatshirts and sweatpants ten times my size,” you exaggerated, shaking your head with a smile, “I think we’ll find something,” you added with a wink.

After discarding all the dirty napkins, you and Evan drove to your home. Stepping into your house, you steered directly to your room, while Evan waited nervously on your living room couch. You came back with your biggest blue sweatshirt and grey sweatpants.

“You know where the bathroom is,” you said, handing him the clothes.

He bit his lower lip, nodding and headed off to go change. You went to the kitchen to prepare some movie snacks. You slapped your palm against your forehead, frustrated. Why did you suggest to take him to your house? It would’ve been perfectly fine if you’d just took him home, but no. Apparently you felt the need to make him feel even more awkward and embarrassed by making him wear your clothes. Who does that?

Meanwhile Evan was staring at himself in the mirror. The sweatpants you gave him fit well around his legs. The sweatshirt was the slightest bit baggy around his torso, but fit loosely, and the blue shade complemented his skin tone well. Evan felt his face heating up realizing that your bare body had probably touched these clothes before his, and turned an even darker shade of red knowing how weird and perverted that sounded. A knock on the bathroom door nearly scared the shit out of him.

“Hey Ev,” your muffled, gentle voice was heard on the other side of the door, “I made us some popcorn, so I’ll be up in my room when you’re ready for a movie.”

“Oh! A-Actually I was just getting out!” Evan quickly turned the cold water faucet and briskly splashed his face. He turned off the tap. Wiping the water off with the towel by him, he grabbed his dirty laundry and stepped out of the bathroom.

You scanned him up and down, a smile forming its way onto your face. He looked like a cuddly teddy bear.

“You,” you poked his cheek, “are absolutely adorable. I think you wear my clothes better than I do.”

Red-faced, and a little surprised by the compliment, he let out a breathy chuckle. You took his clothes from him.

“I’m going to put this in the washer, and I’ll meet you back in my room,” you told him, already walking away.

When you arrived to your room, Evan already made himself comfortable, taking generous handfuls of the popcorn, and already pulled up Netflix on your laptop.

“Slow down there,” you laid yourself beside him, “at this rate we’ll be out of popcorn before the movie starts.” You nudged him in the side.

“Sorry,” he pulled his hand back from the bowl, with a sheepish smile on his face.

You scoffed, “Ohmygod, I’m joking!” you exclaimed, letting out a silent laugh.

“Oh, r-right,” he mumbled, as you leaned against him.

“So what kind of a movie are you thinking?”

The movie was playing, but you paid little to no mind of it. You were thinking about bigger things. And these “bigger things” were confessing to your childhood crush.

It hadn’t occurred to you until you were snuggling into Evan’s side, breathing in the mix of Evan’s scent in your clothes did you realize how desperate you were to break into something more than just two friends watching a movie. You leaned towards the idea of telling him now.

You two were extremely good friends now, it’d make no sense to just throw that away because you felt like there was a possibility there could be more. Also, Evan had been growing much more loving and affectionate to you, and that reassured you there was a great possibility he might like you back.

Not more than 20 minutes in, the popcorn bowl was empty, other than a few unpopped kernels. You sat up slightly and, hitting pause, you placed the empty bowl in Evan’s lap.

“Get us a refill, why don’t you?” you asked with pleading eyes.

“Why can’t you?” he gave you a small shove with his shoulder.

“Hey, you were the one who ate it all!”

“…No argument there.”

You chuckled and thanked him with a kiss against his cheek, which made him heat up for the millionth time that day. He knew you liked to be affectionate (not that he minded) but you always got him flustered over small things. He kicked his legs over the side of your bed and stood up with the mostly empty bowl. It didn’t take more than a single step for the bowl to slip out of his wobbling hands and scatter popcorn kernels over the floor.

“Damn it,” he muttered, immediately getting on his knees to clean up his mess. You had gotten up too, and turned the lights on. You kneeled down next to him.

“You okay Evan?” you asked, picking up a kernel by the leg of your desk.

“Yeah, I guess-,” he dropped the kernels back into the bowl, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t, I mean” He fumbled with his words for a little.

With a heavy sigh, he stood up and spoke again, “I guess I just need to get a better control over my hands”

He placed the bowl on your desk.

“Hey!” an idea came to your mind, “You know what I used to do when I had a really bad issue with shaky hands?”

“Origami,” he replied almost instantly.

You furrowed your eyebrows, standing up again, “How’d you know?”

He picked up one of the several paper cranes from your desk and displayed it to you, “This?”

You rolled your eyes, “Well have you tried it?”

“No, not really,” he admitted, putting the crane back on your desk.

“Well… here,” you searched over the top of your desk for some pre-cut into square paper and handed it to him. You both sat down on your bed.

“Take this corner and fold it diagonally, then do the same with the other corner,” you explained, pointing in indication.

He made a careful fold. Putting your hand on top of his, you pressed your thumb and forefinger together against the paper, and slid it across to make a sharper crease. You could feel his fingers trembling under yours. You took your hand off of his own to let him relax. Instead of guiding him physically, you decided to grab another piece of paper to use as a visual demonstration.

Throughout the process, Evan was starting to get the hang of things and didn’t seem as hesitant with every fold. There was one moment where he was worried about his hands growing sweaty and making his fingers stick to the paper, but you reassured him there was nothing to worry over. There was a step he didn’t understand clearly, in which he asked you to guide him. He then used that excuse many more times for you to hold his hand longer.

The end result wasn’t as cleanly folded as the one you had been working on but it held a similar shape, and didn’t have a single tear. You were proud of Evan and he gave you a lopsided smile. You grabbed a pen and placed your initials on your crane. Then Evan stretched out his hand, asking for the pen. He copied your actions and wrote “E. H.” on his crane. He looked at your crane again. It looked much nicer than his own.

“Can I… Can I keep this?” he picked up your crane.

You smiled wide, feeling the familiar warmth overcome the tops of your cheeks.

“Of course,” you started with a genuine smile, then with a mischievous smirk, added, “if you get us a refill of popcorn.”

He let out a groan as he stood up and left with the bowl.

You were feeling creative today and scrambled about your desk. You desperately searched for a blue thread, yarn, ribbon- anything. Successfully finding a small ball of yarn, you cut off a lengthy piece with a pair of scissors. Picking up a safety pin, you pierced a hole in the top of the crane, miraculously not stabbing your finger in the process. Threading the yarn through the hole, you heard the beeping of the microwave, indicating that Evan would be back soon. You panicked.

Evan walked back into your room with a hot bowl of fresh popcorn.

“Sorry if I burned it a li- Hey, are you alright?” Evan set the popcorn on your bed.

“Just peachy,” you regretted saying that. Who says that? (a/n: i do lol) “Your, um, your crane,”

“Oh, yeah,” he turned to you with a wide smile. He looked so beautiful sitting there. In your soft, plush clothes, with his wide, joyful eyes, and his bottom lip poking out slightly as he smiled. You opened up your closed fist to reveal his present.

“Second grade me wanted to relive the past,” you began, averting your eyes from him, in any attempt not to shrivel up in embarrassment.

He placed his hands on top of yours to admire your makeshift bracelet.

You used your unoccupied hand to scratch the back of your neck, “I, uh, wanted to make you a bracelet to tell you I had a crush on you back then. I mean, I guess, I still do like you now, too.”

Your confidence was severely melting. You felt like someone was rubbing hot stones over your face as you took each ends of the yarn to tie it around Evan’s out stretched arm. He held it up, turned it one side, then the other.

“It’s, I- um,” he stuttered, “I didn’t, I- uh, didn’t really prepare a speech or anything but,” he cautiously opened up his arms to welcome a hug.

You gladly accepted, diving quickly into his embrace. You let your arms find their way around his waist and hold him tightly. His arms snaked around your sides, fitting around your body snugly. Your nose fit itself over his shoulder. He felt plush in your grasp, like a stuffed animal or a cloud. You felt comfort in his warmth.

“I like it. I like it a lot, actually, and you! I lik- uh, l-love you?” he shut himself up as soon as he registered what he just said.

You pressed a kiss up against his neck.

“I love you, too. And your shaky hands.”

#evan hansen x reader #evan hansen imagine #dear evan hansen x reader #dear evan hansen imagine #deh #dear evan hansen #evan hansen #deh imagine #deh fic #connor murphy #jared kleinman #zoe murphy #deh x reader #indigo imagines #by summer

319 notes · View notes

san-bika · 7 years

Text

A Fated Family - Voltron fic

**Vague Season 2 Reference**

Rating: General

Pairings: Allura and Lance friendship

Length: 1913 words

Tags: S2 continuation, BAMF Allura, Leader Allura, fluff, world-building, homesick Lance, hurt!Lance, hurt-comfort

————————————————————————————–

The observation deck was one of Allura's least favorite place to be, if she was honest with herself.

The star maps were beautiful and reinforced how vast and complex the universe really was.

But it was also a reminder of the many beacons, red for emergency and green for safety, that were floating out there relying on her and her paladins. How much was truly riding on their efforts.

It was a reminder, as painful as it was to admit, of how her father had failed not only their planet but the entire universe by hiding away its greatest defender out of fear.

And it was a reminder of the responsibility she was willingly placing on herself; how she was marrying herself to a vocation of protection and defense against evil.

She didn't have a planet or a family who relied on her, although Coran was more than a friend at this point, something between a father-figure and a brother-in-arms.

Allura was comfortable in the role she had chosen for herself. Her family was the universe; her destiny hidden in tiny planets and outposts among the stars. Coran, too, had agreed to marry himself to justice.

Losing everything meant that they felt, in a way few others could, a desperation and a hunger to prevent such tragedy from occurring again. War was the enemy. Fear. Isolation.

But she wasn't sure how she felt when she considered that her destiny was intertwined with five others, five who were more than friends, her fated but not chosen family.

Five whose destinies may not always lead to the stars, at least not forever.

Coming to the observation deck always pushed that thought to the front of her mind, wondering how and when to discuss the topic of long-term plans. Whether she needed to ask if the paladins were as committed to abolishing evil as her, or whether they were only committed to abolishing Zarkon.

The paladins of the past were not defined by a specific evil. They were called to fight against injustice, to risk their lives for any, for all. But her paladins... did they truly understand that?

Today had been no different. Allura needed to focus on these troublesome thoughts and she needed to let them go, for a time. The star maps let her take her moment and release the worries she hid away.

But she wasn't alone. The lights were dimmed, so she hadn't seen him at first, and he clearly hadn't seen her, his body still folded over itself in front of the maps, hands wrapped around his head, gently and firmly massaging his scalp.

Her heart clenched and her thoughts turned again to her father, wondering whether he had guilt over the wounds his soldiers had gotten in the line of duty and how he would have handled it.

Though they had managed to get Lance in a healing pod after the Castle Ship had been overrun by Galra, they hadn't done it in time to save him from long-term effects of concussions, a disturbing human affliction. So unlike the Alteans, so fragile, really. Allura ached when she considered how much these humans were risking for her mission.

And besides that, the pods were meant to heal Alteans from life-threatening trauma: swelling, blood loss, breaks, ruptures, wounds. It wasn't necessarily meant to heal other problems.

Things like diseases or infections, for example, wouldn't heal, though Coran, Pidge, and Hunk were excitedly working hard to hopefully configure them to do just that. "Think of what we could do on Earth with this tech!"

Regardless of the possibilities of Altean healing technology, the fact remained that she had gotten complacent and as a result Lance faced real pain for the rest of his life. Besides the thankfully infrequent severe headache he experienced, Lance also dealt with vertigo and dizziness, sudden mood swings, and difficulty focusing or getting easily confused.

All of which had affected him during training, and, just once, in battle. The mood on the ship was grim; Keith and Pidge frustrated by the errors and Hunk protective of his best friend while Shiro hovered between understanding and anxious.

Lance had only become more aware of his perceived deficiencies, training harder and withdrawing from the group when he was affected. Pidge told him that things should even out eventually, he should even be able to predict when he was about to suffer a migraine or an episode, but thus far they'd proven to be random and of varying strength.

To see him hunched and trembling, normally so tall and bursting with wiry strength....

Allura allowed herself to feel the fullness of her guilt, if only in solidarity with Lance's pain.

"I wish I could take that pain for you," she found herself saying in a very soft voice.

He turned then, grimacing, and wrestling one eye open only to turn back towards the star maps.

"No, you really don't," he replied, managing a chuckle.

"May I sit with you?" Allura allowed a bit of her authority bleed into her voice. She really and truly didn't want Lance to suffer alone.

He moved a little so there was more space and she gracefully sat down, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Lance managed to turn towards her again, eyes bright blue despite the dim light. Or perhaps because of it.

"I don't think so. 'M testing a pain killer those nuts cooked up. Hunk tested it on himself. Said it works. Guess we'll see." He always spoke like this when afflicted with the headaches, clipped and efficient. It was so unlike him that Allura's heart sunk.

She noticed a necklace clasped in his hands, the beads and chain pressing against his unruly hair.

"What is that, Lance? Something sparkly for me?"

The pilot chuckled.

"No, Mama's rosary. Gave it to me when I left for the Garrison. Said she knew I'd do great things and wanted me to be protected."

His face grew somber for a moment, "It's like she knew... she had this look... like she knew I wouldn't see her for a long time."

"May I see it?" Allura offered her palm to him, and he dropped the jewelry into her hand.

It was a series of glass beads on a some kind of metal chain. At the end was a silver cross with a man on it and a medal of a woman, her arms outstretched.

The princess gazed at the woman, feeling drawn to the gentle face.

"Who is this? Your mother?"

At that Lance laughed outright before clutching his head and grunting a little.

Allura gasped, "My apologies, should I go? I do not want to cause you any more pain."

He put a hand on her arm, "No.. stay... company's nice.... I mean, it's not that bad."

He managed a smile at her, one of his real ones before turning his gaze to the star maps and sitting up a little. Allura hoped that this meant the medication was working.

"That's Maria, not my mom. Could say she's not JUST my mom. I mean. In my religion, she's all our mother, she's the mother of God," he pointed at the cross, "and my Mama loves her so much. Told me I could always ask her for help. No matter what I did or where I go."

The princess nodded slowly. Altea.... didn't really have a religion. They had been a scientific race.... they had believed in magic to a limited extent in that they believed quintessence was a force that could not be understood. But they had not ascribed persons or a creator to it. They had been content believing that the universe was too vast to completely understand and to respect it by learning with humility was enough. The idea of religions, of definitions, was fascinating to her, and she eagerly learned from her paladins their concepts and opinions of creation and belief.

She had to admit that it was nice to imagine a loving mother who was always there for her.

"So do you ask her?"

Lance looked confused for a moment before he realized what she meant. He had to concentrate hard to keep his train of thoughts during and after these attacks.

"You mean ask Maria for help? Never used to... it wasn't for me. I mean, I was happy to... make my mom happy. Do what she wanted. But I never really thought about it for myself. It wasn't my belief, it was Mama's...."

Allura glanced down at the beads, feeling as though Lance was struggling with something. The beads were glass but not perfectly round, some chips smoothed over and worn soft.

"But now, I feel like everything I was sure of... the universe, my purpose, all that's changed. It isn't hard for me to believe maybe Mama was right. My purpose is here protecting the universe, protecting Earth and my family.... maybe she really did know that when she gave her rosary to me... when I see all the stars and the planets, it's hard for me to reject the idea that we all have some purpose. And maybe... Maria really is watching over me since Mama can't."

Lance dropped his face then. Allura didn't look up, recognizing his hitching breaths as a need for privacy.

Allura spoke delicately. "I think that is a lovely thought, Lance. Perhaps you can ask her to watch over me too. I do not have a mother here either, none of us do."

She heard a watery chuckle before he answered, "You're right, princess, I shouldn't forget that either. We all need a mother now."

"Is your head feeling better?" She ventured as she passed the rosary back to him, gently rubbing her thumb over the medal.

The paladin nodded slowly, "Kind of a dull ache now but not nearly as bad as before. I've gotta thank Hunk for whatever magic he cooked up. And maybe rehydrate and sleep so I’m useful tomorrow and not a waste of space."

Allura rose and offered him a hand, pulling him up, "That is the spirit, paladin. Getting plenty of rest and fluids should help you recover nicely! Although you are not ever a waste of space, you should know that by now!"

Lance smiled wrily as he put the rosary back over his head, tucking it neatly under his shirt, "Now you're starting to sound like a mom, Princess!"

She flushed before pinching him neatly on the arm. Walking side by side, Lance turned to look at his planet one more time before the star map flickered off as they left the room.

"'It’s funny. My mom always got these migraines... She didn’t hit her head or anyhting but still got them, sometimes really bad. She couldn't get out of bed. Too sick. But she would still take care of us when Dad was out working. She could do it. If she can... I know I can too."

Allura bit her lip, "You must get your bravery from her, Lance. And if you would ever like company when you get a headache like this, I would be happy to be there for you."

Lance flushed a little but his small smile warmed her heart.

He was, they all were, her family now and while she couldn't protect them from injury, she could be with them and help them through their pains. Allura knew her father would be proud.

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emmadutton1993 · 4 years

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ciathyzareposts · 5 years

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Game 337: Treasures of the Savage Frontier (1992)

The game almost immediately reveals its title to be a double-entendre.

Treasures of the Savage Frontier

United States

Beyond (developer), Strategic Simulations, Inc. (publisher) Released 1992 for Amiga and DOS

Date Started: 20 July 2019

Settling into a Gold Box game is like going back to your home town after a few years. You enjoy looking for the little changes while at the same time hoping that not much has changed. The town still has its same friendly character, you think, and it looks like all the neighborhoods are still 16 x 16. The old Irish pub seems to have gotten a VGA facelift; maybe I’ll get to know the NPCs there a little better this trip. Mr. Miller at the armory is still hawking that weird selection of polearms, but he’s got helmets now, too. Oh, looks like MacGregor’s pharmacy got bought out by a Rite Aid–and I hear they have a new “Repair” command that automatically heals all your ailments. Yes, maybe some of those things changed on your last trip. It’s hard to remember. Does it really matter?

Of course, your hometown is always happy to welcome you with all the experience and stuff that you’ve accumulated since you were first created here. Well–most of it. They haven’t legalized weed or Gauntlets of Dexterity yet, so you’ll have to leave those where you came from.

The import process confiscates a few items.

We don’t have many trips to the old neighborhood left. Mom and dad sold the place for a better house in a town called Dark Sun, if you can imagine. They’re hardly ever even home. They’ve been leasing it short-term to some executives from a company called Beyond. Better enjoy these streets–and killing bandits on them via one of the best combat engines you’ve ever experienced–while you can.

I’ve been plucking games from the 1992 list at random, but I’m not sure if I wouldn’t have done it in this order deliberately. Of the three remaining Gold Box games, I think I’ll enjoy The Dark Queen of Krynn the most, Buck Rogers: Matrix Cubed the least, and Treasures somewhere in between. If that’s true, Treasures is a good one to ease into for the first time in almost three years–saving the best experience for last, but not ruining our homecoming on the worst part of town.

I like the setup here. It requires some knowledge of the previous game and the Forgotten Realms factions, but it isn’t overly complicated. In Gateway to the Savage Frontier, the characters were former caravan guards who slowly stumbled on a conspiracy by Zhentarim (the evil mercenary company that rules Zhentil Keep) to take over the Savage Frontier (a long strip of land east of the Sword Coast) by marching an army across the Anauroch Desert (which lies between Zhentil Keep and the Savage Frontier) to the city of Ascore. The party foiled the plan by activating a magic ritual in Ascore that summoned various desert monsters to destroy the invading hordes.

The game map shows that action will take place on the western side of the Savage Frontier, plus the Sword Coast cities. If it stretched just a little further south, we’d see Baldur’s Gate.

Treasures begins a few weeks later, with the party enjoying a picnic in the hills above Yartar. Suddenly, we’re sucked through a portal, arriving on the cold stone floor of a dwarven stronghold in the city of Llorkh. The agent of our transportation is Amanitas, the setting’s version of Gandalf or Elminster, an absent-minded wizard who aids and directs the party.

Why is this spell never available to me no matter what level I achieve?

Amanitas relates that after their defeat, the shattered remains of the Zhentarim fled south to Llorkh, the only city in the region that they still controlled. But when the dwarven residents of Llorkh heard that the Zhentarim had been defeated, they realized this was their prime chance to revolt. The city has been plunged into chaos, with the dwarves against the Zhent garrison and the returning survivors of Ascore. Amanitas hopes that we’ll do our usual thing. Of course, he won’t be sticking around himself. He’s going to return home to Secomber to investigate “troubling reports about strange new events in the Savage Frontier.” One hopes this includes the apparent imposition of slavery on former caravan guards.

I took a quick look at character creation to make sure nothing had changed (I didn’t see anything) before importing my Gateway party, which consists of:

Broadside, a lawful good human male paladin of Level 7

Talldark, a chaotic good human female ranger of Level 7

Ghost, a neutral good dwarf male fighter/thief of Levels 5/6

Alpha, a lawful good human male cleric of Level 6

Eso, a chaotic good human female cleric of Level 6

Monitor, a neutral good elf magic-user of Level 6

Ghost will cap at Level 9 as a fighter, two levels below the maximum for the game, but I guess I’ll live with it. Monitor can go to Level 11 as a mage, which also happens to be the game maximum. If the series had gone on for one more title, you’d have to go with an all-human party, or suffer from very low level caps, as in the Forgotten Realms series.

A new character is pretty pathetic compared to an imported one.

Most of their equipment came with them, save the Gauntlets of Dexterity, some magic scrolls, ioun stones, a Wand of Defoliation, and a long sword +2 versus undead. Still, everyone has magic weapons and armor. An imported party has an enormous advantage over one created for the game. New characters start at around Level 4 with only 22,600 experience (my imported characters had between 80,000 and 140,0000) and non-magic items. My imported party also has, I suspect, enough money in gems and jewelry to last the entire game.

The game begins in war-torn Llorkh, where the ultimate goal is to assault the Zhent keep in the east-center of the city. An early journal entry recommends that, before heading there, you “clear the rest of the town,” thus weakening the Zhent forces and stopping them from sending reinforcements. Yes, we’re still using paper journals. I don’t really know why.

Getting a journal reference . . .

. . . and marking it off in the paper (or PDF) journal.

Llorkh held to the 16 x 16 standard that the Gold Box has used since Pool of Radiance, with another 8 x 16 for the keep. I normally like mapping, but for whatever reason, I didn’t map during this session. I relied on the overhead “Area” map to get around and make sure I covered every square, which isn’t terribly hard on a map this small. The “Area” map still doesn’t distinguish walls from doors, which is something that I wish the series had fixed before the end.

I did most of my exploration from this map rather than mapping myself.

The town had a weapons shop, a couple of inns, a temple, and a training hall, all open during the strife. All my characters except Broadside gained one or two levels during the session. I think I’ll probably dual either Alpha or Eso to a second mage pretty soon. The only things I bothered to purchase were arrows and darts, and I noticed that (perhaps for the first time) they now automatically stack, meaning you don’t have to buy darts 4 at a time until your mage’s inventory is full, then stack them, then buy more.

Part of the options in the armory.

The Zhent forces in the keep include “lordsmen” (high-level fighters), driders, gryphons, ettins, efreet, and hill giants. Driders were probably the toughest enemies. If you don’t damage them, they cast “Fireshield” in the first round, which does double the damage back to the attacker for every melee attack. Once the spell is cast, you have to try to destroy the Drider with spells (“Magic Missile” is a favorite, though they shrug off spell damage about 50% of the time) or ranged weapons.

There were around 20 fixed encounters on the Llorkh map. The accumulation of combats was a bit harder than I remember in any previous Gold Box game, and I found myself really working my various spells, even going so far as to cast “Prayer” and “Bless” in combat, which is something I hardly ever do. My wizard only had two Level 3 spells at the game’s outset. Predictably, I used them for “Lightning Bolt” and “Fireball,” but these went fast. I got a lot of use out of the clerics’ “Hold Person.” Fortunately, the game is a bit too generous on letting you rest, heal, and re-memorize spells just about anywhere. Incidentally, unlike Gateway, “Fix” no longer re-memorizes spells. It just heals.

It’s rare for me to cast “Prayer” in combat. I usually use it as a buffing spell.

One thing that has changed: both enemies and allies can join the battle even after it’s been going on for a few rounds. You suddenly get a message that “dwarf fighter has joined the combat” or “Zhent fighter has joined the combat,” with the new characters taking positions near where the party started. So far, every ally joining has been balanced by an enemy and vice versa. Sometimes you can control the NPC allies (I think this is based on a charisma roll for the leader), but other times they control themselves. Either way, they’re usually more trouble than they’re worth, appearing in the back and not having much room to maneuver around the main party. Plus, if the NPCs are controlling themselves, the pathfinding remains awful and they get hung up on every wall.

The NPC dwarves don’t really contribute much to combat.

There weren’t a lot of role-playing encounters in the opening map. There were a few places where I had options to help a group of dwarves or leave, which isn’t exactly much of a choice. When I reached the front gates of the city in my explorations, the game asked if I wanted to stay and fight or leave the dwarves to their fate. On a lark, I tried to leave, but the dwarves just barred the gate and forced me to stay anyway.

This isn’t much of a choice. I have to defeat everyone anyway.

The one major exception was an encounter in a building where I came across some wounded Zhents and a companion treating them. I had options to attack or leave them alone. I decided to adhere to the Geneva Convention, at which point one of the Zhents gave me some intelligence that the Zhent lord Geildarr was planning to ambush the dwarven leaders while they slept. I don’t think this ended up doing anything for me, but it was still an interesting encounter.

On one hand, the Zhentarim are unrepentantly evil. On the other hand, we shouldn’t stoop to their level.

While few of the other encounters offered any role-playing options, there were a lot of contextual encounters (defined here). You rarely just run into a pack of enemies looking for blood, the way you do in, say, The Bard’s Tale or Might and Magic. Instead, you get some message indicating why the combat is occurring before it occurs. The series has generally done a good job with these, but I think Treasures is offering more pre-combat messages than any prior game. Some examples:

We burst into a room and interrupt a group of ettins and fighters dressing for battle.

We hear a lovely melodic voice coming from behind a door, enter, and find ourselves in combat with three harpies. I can’t remember harpies making an appearance in Gold Box games before.

A building turns out to house a group of Bane worshippers, who attack immediately.

We interrupt a group of hill giants and fighters playing dice.

This is so much better than just going right into combat.

It’s been quite a while since I had a combat system that I really enjoyed. I think Crusaders of the Dark Savant was probably the last. Here, I immediately remembered everything I love about the Gold Box approach to combat: when enemies line up to create a perfect “Lightning Bolt” scenario, or attack in a big cluster ideal for a “Fireball”; when a backstab connects; when my paladin is able to kill two enemies with his two attacks per round; when all three castings of “Hold Person” take effect and you can kill the paralyzed enemies at your leisure; when your casting of “Stinking Cloud” reorganizes the battlefield the way you want it. And every new spell slot increases your tactical options. Not only has this system not been improved upon in a turn-based game, I’m not even sure how you’d improve it. It’s one of the few completely transparent systems in all of RPG-dom, meaning that whether an attack succeeds or fails, whether a spell takes effect or doesn’t, whether you live or die, you always understand exactly what’s happening and why it’s happening.

Monsters arranged perfectly for a “Fireball.”

The opening session culminated with an attack on Lord Geildarr’s keep, a fortress that had once belonged to a dwarven king named Redblade. There was a very large battle with fighters and ettins in the entry hall.

Geildarr himself seemed to appear in a southern room, but it turned out to be only an illusion. After we tried to attack him, we were attacked ourselves by driders and efreet. In a northern room, a brunette sorceress similarly disappeared, leaving us to fight her minions.

Tricky, tricky.

Continuing down into the basement, we fought more guards as well as several groups of carrion crawlers (which can paralyze) in the old jail cells. At the north end of the cellars, I found a fighter giving a speech to his troops, and it ominously ended with, “Even if we don’t hold Llorkh, the plan to divide–.” So apparently the Zhents have a bigger plan.

Next, we came to a room where a beautiful blonde fighter was fighting with a “beautiful” brunette sorceress. At least, that’s how the game describes her.

You decide.

They got into a brawl, and during the tussle, the sorceress changed her appearance to match the fighter, both then shouting that she was the “real” blonde. I had various options at this point, and it turned out that casting “Dispel” allowed me to separate them again. It feels like the paladin’s innate “Detect Evil” abilities should have helped here, but I didn’t have that option. Maybe he didn’t have that ability in the first edition of AD&D rules.

A battle with the sorceress (Cortarra) and her allies–several fighters and cockatrices–ensued. I concentrated on killing the cockatrices first, since they can stone with a successful melee attack. When it was over, the fighter–Siulajia–offered to join the party. Of course, I accepted. She related that she’s the daughter of a ranger from the High Forest, captured by retreating Zhent forces and brought to Lord Geildarr as a “gift.” It’s always useful to have a pure fighter. She seems to do well with a bow.

Given that she’s also the character on the title screen, I assume she later becomes more important.

The final battle was a two-part affair that began when I stumbled into a room and found Lord Geildarr threatening a warrior named Jarbarkas. Geildarr turned on me and first had a giant skeleton and a group of humans attack, including two “Hosttower mages” and two “Kraken masters,” showing that the Zhents are allied with the Host Tower of the Arcane in Luskan and the Kraken Society of Purple Rocks. I suspect my adventures may take me in those directions next.

It’s always great when this spell works.

Once I defeated the initial group, Geildarr himself attacked with numerous “lordsmen.” He was probably a high-level magic-user, but he had only a small number of hit points, and he went down after one “Magic Missile” from Monitor and a couple of arrows from Siulajia. “Hold Person” helped mop up the rest.

The Zhents have allied with Gargamel.

After the battle, Jarbarkas gave us a reasonably long account of his history: He’s from a village called Windycliffs on the Sword Coast. The town was recently sacked by Luskans, and Jarbarkas set out to get revenge, ultimately getting himself captured. He recommended that we search enemies for “any kind of crystal.” “I know not what the powers of these crystals may be,” he said, “but they were very careful to shatter them rather than let the stones fall into our hands. There are three different colors, and no single person is ever entrusted with more than one.”

Technically, I’ve already won the game. It just lets you keep playing and exploring new areas after you win.

I expected Jarbarkas to offer to join us, but he took off after this bit of intelligence. Amidst the cheering of the victorious dwarves, we identified our looted equipment, leveled up, memorized new spells, and contemplated our next move, which seemed to be to visit Amanitas in Secomber.

I guess it’s for the best. Your name is a bit too similar to someone we all hate.

You can leave Llorkh via the gate (on foot) or by renting a boat to go along the river system. Either way, leaving puts you on the overland map. Aside from slightly better graphics than previous overland maps, this one seems (for the first time that I remember) to have some consideration of weather. At least, it’s constantly telling you about changes in weather conditions. I’m not sure what impact these conditions have on the game.

Overland exploration by river.

I faced no resistance on the way down river (I think this is one of the advantages to getting a boat). On the river, it’s impossible to avoid the city of Loudwater on the way to Secomber, so I figured I might as well explore it while we were here. The southern part of the city has the usual shops and services, but we soon encountered a building with a bunch of Kraken Society spies. After we defeated them in combat, we found a map showing a line along a road between the Way Inn, Daggerford, and Waterdeep. “We must break their supply lines,” a note read. “Attack and take Daggerford and the Way Inn now! BEFORE they arrive!”

The Kraken Society note.

A way up the road, a young woman asked me to help find her lost mother, then led me into a building in which she and her “sisters” turned into something called “greenhags” and attacked. I’ve never encountered this monster before. Their icons look like wights, but they’re clearly not undead. In the middle of combat, they “changed form” into two mages and a dwarven fighter. They changed back and forth several times during the battle–I’m not sure what it did for them–but I eventually cut them all down and got a magic ring.

What in the world are these things?

Actual undead are to be found in a graveyard east of town–ghouls and wights. They’re fairly easy to turn at my level. I found no treasure or anything among them.

An atmospheric message as I enter the undead part of town.

The northern part of Loudwater had an “adventure supplies” shop that sold flasks of oil, mirrors, robes, cloaks, boots, and belts. I bought everyone boots, just because, but I’m not sure if any of these items really has any use. They haven’t in most past games.

Finally, while exploring a back alley in the northeast part of the city, I suffered not only my first character death but also my first full-party death. I was lured into a building by the singing of another group of harpies. This time, they actually hit me, which causes the struck character to be “Charmed.” They charmed my strongest fighter and one cleric in the first round. I tried to have the second cleric cast “Dispel,” but it didn’t work. During the second round, the charmed cleric cast “Hold Person” and held three of the remaining party members, who were soon cut down by my charmed paladin. With no one left conscious about to cast “Dispel,” all I could do was focus on the harpies, passing the rounds and hoping that the charmed condition would wear off. I was able to kill the harpies with mage spells, but in the subsequent rounds the charmed characters killed everyone. The party was destroyed, but just as in Gateway, the monsters no longer rejoice.

All told, a satisfying start to a familiar setting. I look forward to playing more.

Time so far: 4 hours

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/game-337-treasures-of-the-savage-frontier-1992/

#retro games #dos games #retro #crpg #adventure #amiga #oldcomputers #8bit #16bit #blog #repost

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thomasroach · 5 years

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Top 10 Epic Raid Bosses in MMORPGs

The post Top 10 Epic Raid Bosses in MMORPGs appeared first on Fextralife.

The following post is this author’s opinion and does not reflect the thoughts and feelings of Fextralife as a whole nor the individual content creators associated with the site. Any link that goes outside of Fextralife are owned by their respective authors.

Raid bosses are easily in my opinion the most important aspect of MMORPGs. Games that fall into a different genre may be more dynamic, but only here will tens and sometimes hundreds of players need to come together and work together to defeat an epic boss in a raid. Just simple getting together as many players as possible is not enough to determine your success. Players usually need to use trial and error with a number of different strategies before they can actually take down the boss. All this is done in order to test the weaknesses, come up with an effective approach and correctly coordinate players in the raid.

Top 10 Epic Raid Bosses in MMORPGs

Over time, the concept of an “epic boss” has become rather blurred. Colossal monsters, the destruction of which requires a long preparation time, and then became just another episode from grandma’s fairy tales. Some raid bosses have already gained the “cult” status, and veterans of MMORPGs could tell you a dozen stories about those legendary fights. I’ve tried to select the most powerful bosses who once upon a time, caused a burning sensation and will certainly awaken stirrings of nostalgic feelings from experienced raiders!

10. Illidan Stormrage (World of Warcraft)

A well-known exhibit is Illidan Stormrage, a night-elf born Demon Hunter and the founder of the Illidari. He was the former self-proclaimed Lord of Outland, ruling from the Black Temple until his defeat.

Illidan Stormrage (World of Warcraft)

He was the final boss of the Burning Crusade update. Perhaps, it was the best expansion in World of Warcraft history (at least that’s what the players say). An important aspect of such success was the storyline surrounding the Black Temple raid, and the quests which at the end led the player into the instance to fight the Betrayer.

Only a few players could fight Illidan due to the instance difficulty, until the game received an update later on. The fact the difficulty was so high, was one of the reasons why Blizzard made various changes, after which other players had the opportunity to see this epic game content.

9. Valakas, The Fire Dragon (Lineage 2)

Valakas is the second dragon to make an appearance in Lineage 2 C4: Scions of Destiny global update, and it’s the strongest raid boss to make this update. He inhabits a volcanic terrain located in Goddard, known as the “Forge of the Gods”. Valakas is allegedly the strongest child of Shilen (goddess of destruction in L2 lore). His gigantic stature and massive four wings exemplify his majesty and strength.

Valakas, The Fire Dragon (Lineage 2)

One of the main difficulties of killing this raid boss (which is common for Lineage 2) was to win a massive battle between players to even begin to attack the dragon. All the strong clans and alliances wanted to get the raid boss epic jewelry so battles could last for several hours. Only after that, the winning side would kill the dragon in about an hour, if their mages had enough power damage and mana pool. Many veterans of the game will remember this beast.

Unfortunately, the dragon is still not a part of the classic version of Lineage 2, but it will probably be added in a future update.

8. Baium (Lineage 2 Classic)

Baium’s power is considered inferior to the dragons, but among players there it’s hard to find anyone who does not remember his bright ultimatum strike when he reached a certain level of health. His wrath could easily destroy all raid players in one go.

Baium (Lineage 2 Classic)

The backstory of Baium is that the once great emperor was so powerful that he decided to challenge the gods. He used his kingdom’s forces to construct a tower rising high into the clouds. The magnificent tower of Baium’s designed took thirty years of construction. He intended to use the building in order to climb to the residence of the gods, and obtain the secret of everlasting life. When he did indeed climb the tower, the gods got angry about his plans and severely punished him. Having brought the fury of the gods upon himself, Baium was trapped for all eternity at the top of his tower in immortal silence.

Since then, this became known as the Tower of Insolence, and anyone who broke it’s silence would wake Baium and lose their life. The heroes of Elmoreden who reached the top floor came to measure their strengths with the demigod in an epic battle and Baium is doomed to an eternal life of this continuous war.

Today Baium’s raid is available on the Lineage 2 Classic servers, there are instance and “real” boss versions. The instance zone is a lighter raid version, but to kill a hardcore boss, players need to have the best equipment in the game and come together in an army comprising of 100-200 players.

7. Brothers: Dagon, Dagan and Dagnu (Rising Force Online)

Dagon, Dagan and Dagnu or known as the DDD brothers, are the strongest raid bosses in the game. The next brother that follows, is always stronger than the previous one. They are 3 separate bosses who are located close to the Elan Plateau. Taking into account their direct connection, it wouldn’t be right to review them separately.

Brothers: Dagon and Dagan (Rising Force Online)

According to lore, these terrible beasts were created by the ancient civilization of Herodian as a result of experiments on the High elven race (PvE faction). There are currently three warring races in RF Online: Bellato Federation, Empire Accretia and Holy Alliance Cora. They quite often discarded their blade of war and make temporary alliances against these abominations. Dagon and Dagan almost always could be defeated by one of the races over time, but it is incredibly difficult to fight against Dagnu alone.

Dagnu (Rising Force Online)

The reward from these bosses make the ordeal all worthwhile. The unique jewelry that the brothers drop is combine into one powerful epic object which not only grants great stats to its owner but also cannot be transmitted. Just imagine the authority of the player who gets ownership of it! Today, you can take part in a DDD raid on the recently open European server Zucker.

6. Bael’Zharon (Asheron’s Call)

In November of 2000, Turbine (the founder of Asheron’s Call) presented an unprecedented mass, in-game activity. Players were asked to go down into the new Catacombs of Ithaenc to choose their role in the game world: become a follower of the creepy demon Bael’Zharon and try to free him, or prevent his escaping by any means.

Bael’Zharon (Asheron’s Call)

On some servers, players guarded the demon for several months, not letting anyone pass. On Thristledown server, players were extremely severe and guarded the demon soul during one whole year. The developers installed a monument to Shard Vigil Memerial, as a symbol of perseverance and courage of the catacomb defenders. But finally one day the crystal prison was destroyed, and Bael’Zharon broke free. Managed by developers, he immediately began to wreak havoc in the peaceful lands of Asheron’s Call.

Bael’Zharon wasn’t an ordinary boss and had tremendous power, but he was not immortal. The destruction and massacres caused by the demon’s doing did not stay unpunished. On each server, players joined forces and attacked the monster. Not all raids resulted in success because there was no specific pre-set strategy to fight the monster. However, sooner or later, the boss was defeated. The body of a man named Ilservian Palacost, once a nobleman turned into an demon creature, remained in the place of the defeated Bael’. Inside the corpse were 6 crystals that held the demon and became the material for creating a powerful artifact.

Bael’Zharon doesn’t seem so scary now, but for Asheron’s Call veterans, his appearance inspired confidence in their own death.

5. The Lich King (World of Warcraft)

The Lich King is the master and lord of the Scourge, he rules telepathically from the Frozen Throne atop the Icecrown Glacier. The fallen prince Arthas succumbed to the dark powers and blended with the former Lich King to take the role and title. He is one of the main villains of the World of Warcraft. Many fans would have been upset if this boss raid could be defeated without much trouble. The Lich King due to his infamy was really strong.

The Lich King (World of Warcraft)

The fight in Normal Mode was fairly brutal for the majority of WoW players, but in Heroic Mode, he’s was downright unforgiving. The fight had 3 stages, each stage it took weeks of farming to succeed before the next one could be attempted properly. The boss stayed invincible until it received the first nerf, which increased the damage and healing from players in the Icecrown Citadel. People believed that it was impossible to kill the boss without it. One guild decided to disprove this statement by deliberately turning off that buff, and defeated the King. However, by this time many of these players already possessed equipment obtained from the last raids.

4. Kerafyrm, The Sleeper (EverQuest)

Kerafyrm used to be the main boss in the The Sleeper’s Tomb dungeon. According to the game’s plot, he was immortal, and there wasn’t even any loot to gain from him. This ancient and enraged dragon, which the elders had put to sleep, was confined to a cave with four powerful guards. Kerafyrm was awoken for the first time in July 2001, when the players of The Rathe server managed to defeat his guards. The phantom however did not remain in debt but destroyed his rescuers, then climbed to the surface and began to destroy all life in its path. Having found out where the dragon lived, other players joined forces to measure themselves against the legendary creature.

Kerafyrm, The Sleeper (EverQuest)

In November 2003, the three strongest guilds from the server Rallos Zek teamed up to awaken the monster. There was only one known tactic that worked against the dragon: crowd pounce, continually attack, resurrect after your death and rush into battle once again. The fight lasted more than three hours and the dragon had only lost 74% of his health points. It was at this moment he suddenly disappeared!

It turned out that Sony Online Entertainment did not want the dragon’s death to come to fruition, because it went against the prehistory of EverQuest. The community reacted vehemently. The developers tried to justify themselves and said that the death of Kerafyrm would cause an onslaught of bugs in the game, but in the end they surrendered to the cries of the community and on November 17th, the legend was defeated. The dragon would kill players with one swift blow, but they were able to resurrect rather quickly. According to rumors, many players have died more than a hundred times for three hours as that epic battle raged.

Kerafyrm was awoken on all servers except one and players only succeeded in killing him a total of three times. The mighty boss lived in The Sleeper’s Tomb dungeon, but nowadays on many servers it is already empty. After the release of the Secrets of Faydwer update, Awakened Kerafyrm can be found in the Crystallos zone, Lair of the Awakened.

3. Ragnaros, The Firelord (World of Warcraft)

Ragnaros the Firelord is an incredibly powerful Elemental Lord and the master of all fire elementals. He became the strongest raid boss in the game shortly after WoW released. It was the last main challenge in the Molten Core and the first raid dungeon, so no one really knew how to approach him properly to begin with. The fight with Ragnaros was much longer and more challenging than any other battle in the Firelands. Players had to kill 9 of his loyal lieutenants first, in order to summon the Elemental Lord. Perhaps, this is the reason why it took so long before he was defeated for the first time.

Ragnaros, The Firelord (World of Warcraft)

The flaming lord himself is invulnerable to fire attacks and every two minutes summons elemental sons that draw mana from players. It was tricky to kill Ragnaros because he utilises several special attacks: throws melee players in the different directions, casts fireballs and creates lava flows. He was a real piece of work in Heroic mode (a harder difficulty). His hammer, Sulfuras, repeatedly slapped players into air, and raiders had to adapt to the random minions that respawned and could easily at any point break the raid try.

The boss lost his power after the release of the ‘Wrath of the Lich King’ add-on’, and now he can even be killed by one player.

2. Pandemonium Warden (Final Fantasy XI)

This particular boss had the unique ability to make players physically ill and no that was not an in-game debuff, but had a real affect to people’s health. The first try to slay Pandemonium Warden took place in 2007, where one of the best guilds which consisted 36 players fought valiantly with the boss for a gruelling 18 hours, but could not claim victory. The players were forced to interrupt the raid due to the fact that some players began to faint from exhaustion.

Pandemonium Warden (Final Fantasy XI)

It was the main reason for which the developers nerfed the boss by adding a 2-hour timer to ensure that the players wouldn’t be overloaded with long fights. The overall complexity has been significantly reduced since it’s initial introduction to the game. This case will probably remain as one of the most hardcore raids in MMO history.

1. Antharas, The Land Dragon (Lineage 2 Classic)

Antharas was the first ever Epic Raid Boss to be introduced in the first chronicle of Lineage 2. He is the father of the famous game gimmick and considered a stereotype of a gargantuan monster needed to be killed by an enormous number of players. Absolutely every player who played Lineage 2 knows his name as his reputation proceeds him, even many who have not faced Antharas know of him.

Antharas, The Land Dragon (Lineage 2 Classic)

The humongous size of Antharas far surpasses that of all other evil beasts. Even a very powerful sword would not easily inflict damage upon the body of the dragon, as it is so densely covered with rock-hard scales. Beams of light emitted from the monster’s eyes, causing those who gazed upon it to freeze in horror. Antharas is fittingly regarded by all adventurers as the ultimate symbol of pure terror. The dragon deals massive amounts of damage, summons minions and has several fighting strategies depending on it’s level of health.

It was necessary to gather all the alliance members (more than 200 – 300) to kill this raid boss, or even those who were at war relations. Even by doing this, the dragon until this day was not successfully slayed on all servers. Therefore, game masters often organized various events with this epic boss. They summoned the dragon into places with large numbers of players. But as a rule, the dragon was weakened or after some time was killed at the game master’s command just for the public fun.

Today, the dragon is still is found in the lair depths in Lineage II Classic and is stronger than ever as no one yet has managed to defeat him on the European server called Skelth.

It is impossible to fit all epic raid bosses of all MMORPGs into one review. So, if you have not found your favorite epic boss raid here, then tell us your story about that adventure in the comments!

If you enjoyed this opinion piece be sure to check out 5 Innovations Dragon Age Should Keep After Inquisition. You can also find out more about more MMORPG content in Elder Scrolls Online: The Champion System & The Future Of ESO In 2019 and World Of Warcraft Character Boost VS Leveling.

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theladysmith · 7 years

Text

Reboot.

Hiya. Happy new year. It's 2017.

After a few years of trotting out my social media efforts out as a website presence, I’ve decided to rethink, revamp and relaunch my blog. 2016 was quite the year for me, so much so that I think I might need to write about it, and I’m just delusional enough to think that as my jewelry and design and life-as-a-human work evolves, people might want to learn a bit about my process and the life that insulates it.

So I suppose this post represents a relaunch (or a messy new launch) of my blog. I generally prefer to photo document life, and so spend a lot of time on Instagram, which in turn feeds my Tumblr, and for a long while I’ve felt that this is enough social media presence for me, that my images and captions speak enough about my art-life and my life-life. Until recently. Life-life this year has been challenging, and photo-captioning it doesn’t really allow for the deeper dive that I might want to allow myself every once and awhile. My desire to discuss what’s going down without the threat of caption limits grows daily. I can’t keep my expectations to myself anymore. I guess that’s where you come in: I’m asking for witness.

I had originally written a long, hand-wringingly dramatic post about how I lost my J-o-b several months ago. I was aiming to be concise, but emotions got the better of me and it just started to get whiny. I may post it eventually, but I dunno. I wrote and rewrote this post over the fall, and am now revisiting it 5 months and a New Years later and I realized that I've simmered down some. I feel like telling the story now for historical context, as the lay-off and its repercussions has completely changed my life for the better, and as result has fired up my art-life so much that I can no longer deny that my art-life is in fact my real and true life-life. I can no longer function as a human without working as an artist. That has been the biggest, hardest and most joyful lesson to come out of the shit-show that was 2016. (Full disclosure: I had secured legal representation after my lay-off due to several human rights violations that I experienced as an employee of Sotheby's International Realty Canada's Oakville office, but a change of situation has now freed me to talk about it. I offer this as a cautionary illustration of what a skilled, experienced and friendly employee can experience working for woefully ignorant and shockingly under-qualified management. You know, 'cause the world needs another tale like this...

I started a new job with the regional Sotheby’s International Realty office in August ’15, and I was crazy-excited to be working with a world-class marketing team and historically significant brand in a new (to me) field with a short walking commute. Walking to, but mostly from work soon became the best part of the job, as the management direction became abusive, the expectations were never communicated and the high-school-level office drama emerged just a few weeks after starting the job. At lunch with my brother in mid-September I casually mentioned that I wasn’t very happy with how things were going, but maybe it was just growing pains. By our trip to NYCC in early October, I was depressed each and every night (especially Sunday nights!) knowing that I would eventually have to go back to work, and was planning a pie-in-the-sky escape plan out of self-preservation. I also wasn’t feeling very well, but I figured it was my annual late-in-the-year energy slump and the Monday-Friday frustrations feeding stress-related illness . I told myself to hang on, that the job would improve. It did not improve. Let’s cut to the beginning of 2016, shall we?

After indescribable work stress, a suspicious lymph node infection, a total immune system crash, and 5 and a half months of unending illness (head colds! sinus infections! gastroenteritis! the flu! another cold!), I was diagnosed with papillary thyroid cancer in February, just a week before I turned 40.

To illustrate the degree of shit to which the job had gone, I offer this story: I spent my 40th birthday sick as a dog, yet in a compulsary meeting at work where I was scheduled to make a 1/2 hour presentation with next-to-no voice, which was interrupted by the perfunctory cake and happy birthday song delivered with the energy of a funeral dirge. I finished my presentation to discover that they had eaten the entire cake without leaving me a slice while I was talking! Totally defeated, I spent the evening nested on the couch in my pjs with a head cold so terrible that I was unable to taste the lovely chocolate cake that Mike had gotten for me. I was miserable, scared and angry, and I didn't know what to do. I can't ever remember feeling more hopeless. I wish that was the only horrible story I could tell of this recent job, but there are about 3 dozen more, most far more depressing, including the one where MY BOSS INFORMED MY COWORKERS OF MY DIAGNOSIS BY EMAIL WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. But let’s not go there right now...

By the end of March, I was finally “healthy” (in that I was no longer actively sick with something, except for cancer), and I was feeling a little more optimistic because the multiple doctor's appointments, nasal endoscopies, CT scan and biopsies had determined that the cancer was isolated just to my thyroid. I had a great new family doctor and surgeon who had managed to answer most of my many questions and my surgery had been set for early May. The daily personal bullying at work had even simmered down a bit, but this was just temporary because of yet another massive drama regarding another coworker, so my issues were briefly off the radar. Emphasis on briefly.

I had been working with an amazing therapist (and friend) out of Ottawa via Skype for a few weeks while I navigated my treatment options, and with her support I made the decision to move to working 4 days a week for awhile, to give myself a bit more time to schedule doctor and therapy appointments. The 4 day work week, while definitely no shorter in terms of hours, felt like one of the most adult and freeing decisions I had ever made in my professional life. I was starting to feel very well prepared and almost excited for my surgery. My health was improving (as was my outlook) and it felt good.

My total thyroidectomy was on May 5. O5/05 - I felt like the numbers were auspicious, and I guess they were. The surgery, while a little longer than expect, went perfectly. When I woke up in recovery, high as a kite on morphine, I knew a moment (albeit drug-induced) of pure gratitude and love for everyone and everything. I had never experienced that before - it was lovely. Memorable. I still think of it daily. Propped up with a massive bandage on my throat, I squawked a little 'hello' to myself and beamed that the surgery hadn't taken my voice (there is a small chance of permanent change or loss of voice with all thyroid surgery, as the vocal cords run through the thyroid.)

I had some trouble with my blood calcium levels that kept me in the hospital a little longer than the overnight that I had expected, but by 8 pm the next day I was home, happy and relatively comfortable. I healed like a champ. Work benevolently (can't roll my eyes hard enough here) gave me my 4 remaining sick days to recover, and I worked from home the following week because my voice had still barely recovered and my incision line was periodically sore. I even managed to get to the Ottawa Comic Con a week after my surgery so that I could visit Mike and our friends who were exhibiting. After my stitches were removed (which was the creepiest physical sensation I've ever experienced) I spent a few days recovering at my family home. All of this time felt like such a gift.

My return to work was tough. My voice was weak and would give out mid-sentence, which was weirdly exhausting, and my energy levels were a little all over the place because my body was still getting used to the new Synthroid thyroid medication that I was now on for life. I felt overall that I was doing pretty well, but work quickly reminded me they thought otherwise. The prevailing attitude was "wow, your illness was such an inconvenience" or "actually, we got along just fine without you." I had started a job search during the dark days of deep winter, but after my diagnosis I just let it drop. I started to reconsider. But I I felt like I had really survived something, so the trials and dramas of work should've seemed like nothing in comparison, right? As spring continued, the job environment worsened. The brokerage manager (henceforth to be referred to as Terrible Manager/Person, as she really was both a terrible manager and a terrible person) continued to throw me under the bus, cc-ing emails where she blasted me for non-issues to the entire national management team, wasting everyone's time. I went far and beyond my job description on a few special projects, but my efforts weren't even recognized with a simple thanks. The few actual design-oriented projects that came across my desk were promptly taken away from me and weakly completed by the Toronto office, which was frustrating because my position had been advertised as a graphic designer position but had flattened into a straight coordinator position, leaving me increasingly upset with my decision to leave my former job (which hadn't been the best, but at least they had respected my skills and input.) The professional criticism was unending, and totally unnerving - was I going crazy? Was I actually terrible at this job? You know, the same kind of job I'd been doing for 10+ years, with glowing reviews from former employers? I felt completely lost...however, when the criticism started to involve how I looked and what I wore ("hey, did you know you can lose 10 lbs just by cutting out bread for a week?" "Wow I like your blouse, oh wait, you got it at WalMart? And you wear it here!?" "I heard of a medical trial on the radio for people with skin issues and I thought of you immediately..." THOSE WERE ALL SAID TO ME WITHIN A WEEK'S TIME), I realized there was no fixing this shit show, no matter how long I stayed or how hard I tried. (Honestly, apart from a shitheaded misogynist manager once telling me "you know, you'd be a lot prettier if you smiled more!", I have never, ever been subjected to as much criticism regarding how I looked as I was at Sotheby's. I was always dressed office appropriate with professional hair and makeup and boring shoes, but nary a week went past without someone making some kind of comment about my skin, my weight, my illness, my clothes, the frequency with which I wore some things, or my boring shoes. And it's worth mentioning that it was almost always women making these statements...

We went to HeroesCon in Charlotte in mid June and had the best time (as usual) and I came back to work high on art and our amazing friends, only to be deflated and sluggish 2 days later, looking forward to the next long weekend, con or event. Something at work had changed too, I could feel it. I was left out of or uninvited to trainings and dealings with the rest of the national marketing team. My long-promised raise that had been due in November (per my contract, but withheld by Terrible Manager/Person who never felt inclined to complete my 6 month review) suddenly arrived unceremoniously by email. I was told that a new agent was taking my office and I would need to move the contents of my office to a barren corner of an unused board room where a new office was going to be built for me by mid-July. That plan got fast-tracked, suddenly I was given 2 day's notice that my office space was moving, and it was literally taken down around me as I tried to finish up work before I was due to leave for a long weekend in Montreal at the end of the first week of July. My long-developed filing system was destroyed, my organization systems were hastily thrown into boxes, all of it was moved to the empty board/storage room. I was incredulous as I left work for my long weekend - what a mess that was going to be to come back to.

While I was away, there was the usual monthly general office meeting for all the Oakville and Niagara on the Lake agents, Terrible Manager/Person and office staff. Terrible Manager/Person and 2 agents (who I had rarely worked with but who had always been terrible to me when I had to work with them) spent considerable time during the meeting slandering me to the rest of the group (which I heard about the day I was laid off.) One agent who had exhibited an absolute hate-on for me from day one (and who was tight friends with Terrible Manager/Person) apparently stood up and declared "why should my business suffer because someone is sick!?" It's worth noting she had only come to me twice in the space of 6 months for actual help, and I kept her advertising initiatives on track when she had dropped the ball...anyway... The day I returned back to work from our Montreal weekend, I was knee-deep in sorting out an issue between an agent who was away in Eastern Europe on vacation, the agent who was looking after her affairs in the meantime, and the printer who had dropped the ball on their job. I had it sorted out, and had emailed both the agent and my manager that everything was copacetic, but because of a 6+ hour time difference between here and Croatia, and the fact that Terrible Manager/Person was rarely timely in checking her emails or reading email threads, she bitched me out to the national team once again. That was is, I lost it. That afternoon, I confronted her about it, explaining that every time she cc'd the team about some issue she had with me or my work instead of speaking directly with me, she cost everyone time, especially me, and seeing as how I was constantly over-my-head busy, I was done with that kind of unprofessional bullshit. Her face went blank, and she said ok, and walked out of my office.

I was laid off the next morning. They called it corporate restructuring, as they always do, and told me that the Toronto team was taking over the Oakville and NOTL office marketing needs. They reposted my exact job description (the same one that I had applied to the year before) the next morning - there it was sitting in my inbox at 7 am. I still find it utterly hilarious that they didn't think I'd see that...but considering the very first thing that Terrible Manager/Person asked me to do when I came on board was "to change everyone's emails so that they could somehow look like they were written in cursive handwriting font on a parchment paper background, because it's just so much nicer and elegant", I'm not fucking surprised...(for real, that was the first request that I received as a Graphic Designer/Marketing Coordinator for Sotheby's International Realty Canada. Elegant indeed. I should've run right then and there...)

So, five months later! Where's my head at? I'M SO HAPPY I DON'T WORK FOR THE RICH AND ENTITLED ANYMORE! SO HAPPY I DON'T WORK FOR A TERRIBLE MANAGER/PERSON ANYMORE! SO ABSOLUTELY SURE THAT I AM DONE WITH CORPORATE CULTURE FOR MAYBE EVERRRRRR... All caps screaming aside, I'm at a bit of a loss to describe how life changing last year was. I feel like the creative girl that I was when I was in college, full of ideas, making art on the daily and feeling happy, hopefully and resourceful. The messy breakup feels that the lay-off brought are dissolving - I can't help but note that I don't really have any lingering friendships from that job; I've had them from every job I ever had, but this one was different. I am really aware that people were only friends with me when they needed something. Human nature I guess...or real estate agent nature. Who knows(/cares)? I don't know what the next year is going to look like, but right now it looks like planning, making, organizing, selling and promoting. I may have to take a part time job eventually, I may not, I may find lots more freelance (was doing ok with it in the remainder of 2016), I may not. I truly have no idea. But considering that everything that I held as concrete and permanent this time last year has completely changed and I'm thriving in spite or because of, I'm feeling pretty ok about it all. I wish you a very happy new year. I am very happy to be here to do so.

(If you're working a job that involves you feeling terrible about yourself and your abilities on a daily/weekly basis, if you have to deal with a Terrible Manager/Coworker/Person with no one to back you up, if your job was promised as one thing but has backslid into something undesired, or worse, health-threatening, please make every effort to free yourself. I know how it feels to be locked in, desperate, scared and seemingly without options. You can at least talk to someone, be heard, and vent your frustrations, and through that you can find a path and resources to find something better. I am happy to lend an ear and/or shoulder to anyone who needs to decompress from their workplace tension, and more importantly, brainstorm ways to get out of an abusive job. It is absolutely not worth your health or peace of mind - it is time spent that none of us will ever get back.)

#new year #job #work #layoff #cancer #thyroid #thyca #recovery #art #terrible bosses #life lessons #reboot

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