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sylvie-writes · 3 years

Text

Dr. Husband

word count: 5278

pairing: doctor steve rogers x wife reader

warnings: talks about heat exhaustion? there’s nothing graphic, but if the hospital theme bothers you, then this isn’t the fic to read!

prompts (from @/fluffyomlette): “Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?” and “You’re not supposed to pick favourites, doc.” “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

a/n: this just popped in my head about a month ago and i had to write it for no explainable reason. i really couldn’t think of a title oops. if you all have a better idea please tell me so i can change it lol.

please excuse any mistakes!

Summer was finally in full force, blazing sun rays beamed down on the dry ground and once gorgeous flowers drooped in dire need of water. Sounds of children playing outside, pool water splashing as a result of cannonballs, while lawnmowers whirled to life and laughter from the watching wives resounded this afternoon. In your neighborhood, it was tradition that the women would get together every other Saturday and have drinks in the cul-de-sac while their husbands had unsaid competitions of manicuring their yards. Unfortunately for you, your husband was a doctor and that meant little time for him to do the yard, and you didn’t have children at the moment that could go play with the others. The women who were your neighbors were a bit too picky choosy for your taste. They only seemed to bond over their children and sitting around home, two of which you didn’t have or do, so you weren’t ever truly invited to their day-drinking. It was actually fine with you as these people were so hot n’cold and you were just tired of trying to fit in with faux friends. You had plenty of true friends and then your husband who was a child of his own.

For three weekends so far, Steve had told you he’d cut the lawn and as much as you wanted to believe him, you knew that he was so exhausted from work and being on call a majority of the time, that he would never find the hours to do so. That was okay with you because what he did was important and you weren’t gonna be on his ass like the feds about the yard when you could easily do it yourself. It wasn’t like he was just sitting around, no, he was working so you just decided to cut the lawn yourself, something you’d done plenty of times before.

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Unfortunately the day you chose to do so, the sun was out blazing and a simple walk out the door was a trip to an off-brand hell. Instead of making a wise decision and waiting to cut the grass in the evening, you chose the latter and decided to cut the grass at noon, the very time the sun was in full shine.

Dressed in attire for yard work and having already eaten a sandwich for lunch, you headed out the garage door to tackle the mess there in hopes of finding the push mower within. Steve’s father, Joseph, had given you both a lot of his lawn equipment, but the riding mower was broken at the moment and you (again) stupidly decided to push mow the almost two acre lawn. It took a good half hour to get the darned thing out on the driveway and while doing so, you noticed that your neighbors, the wives to be exact, had decided to come out for one of their occasional and somehow spontaneous get-togethers which consisted of unattended kids drawing with chalk as their mothers sat a few feet away dipping their feet in the small splash pool. You often found the idea both inventive and funny.

For only a second more did you let your attention linger on the group before returning back to fill the lawn mower with gasoline. After doing so, you tossed on a pair of sunglasses and went full steam ahead with cutting the grass, disregarding the rising, and very unsafe, temperature.

About an hour in, the temp had already risen to be above 100 and something no one should have spent any longer than half an hour in. Steve had always said you were stubborn at all the wrong times and boy was he right. You had just finished up half of the front yard and quarter of the back yard. It was mad that you were actually thinking about pushing mowing two acres, especially in this unruly weather.

You were so determined and when your mind was set on something, you let all other matters slip away, including regards for your own health. The unusual amount of sweat on your skin seemed to go unnoticed by you as well did the growing headache.

Finally, about half an hour later, more of the backyard was finished and your inner saboteur continued to influence your goals.

“Just finish this half and you will be close enough to the end,” translated into “Just finish the whole yard, you might as well since you are this close.”

This was the worst mindset to have, especially with the given circumstances as you had been out here for at least two hours, no drinks of any sort, no real breaks aside from fueling the lawn mower, and no cares to the worsening symptoms that now included noticeable dizziness.

The lawn mower eventually ran out of gas and you went to refill it once more. Making your way through the front yard, your unknown adrenaline rush came to an end along with the machine’s power. It wasn’t until your vision started to star and blur that you finally noticed your decline in health, but by then it was too late and you were on the plush and groomed grass of the front yard. Ironically, you noticed the fruits of your labor since you were currently laying on it.

Five minutes had passed since your drop to the ground and one of the ladies out in the court, Genevieve, noticed your figure, quite the contrast to the viridescent grass. Despite that she thought you were “demented” for cutting the grass yourself, she knew you weren’t unhinged, so to say, that you would just lay on the grass as it would serve no purpose to do so. She didn’t take you for a nature lover either so this was not normal.

Genevieve squatted down in the lawn, her sparkly sandals reflecting in the sea of green. Unknowing of what to do, the woman in a panic threw the back of her hand to your forehead and you burned hotter than a metal kettle. By time she stood, the other ladies had gathered around and were now circling in mass hysteria as if they were staring at a dead body and not your unconscious, yet breathing frame. Many long seconds later, Priscilla, who was Genevieve’s closest friend and who despised you as much as you did her, decided to call 911. The other moms then left to go usher their children away from what they described as a “traumatic experience” and back to their large homes for some sort of last minute luncheon.

Eventually, an ambulance arrived in your usually quiet neighborhood, something that was clearly displayed as almost every neighbor popped their heads out of their houses in sheer curiosity. Their nosey nature often bothered you but was normally put behind some sort of service act such as a baked cake or bottle of wine just to be invited into your house. You didn’t miss the way your neighbors would study your house when they were finally welcomed in. Steve was much better at hiding his cross nature and would return some compassion of his own while you struggled to bottle your annoyance and sealed it with a forced smile. As luck would have it though, you were knocked out and couldn’t give them a piece of your mind for staring because heavens know this would’ve been the last straw and no one could have stopped your rant.

It was when you were in the red wagon and being attended over by paramedics that you noticed you were on the way to somewhere that wasn’t home.

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At the hospital, the doctor and nurses hydrated you back to reality and suddenly you appeared in a bed, a doctor standing at the side with a clipboard in hand allowing your mind to draw up a million conclusions before you remembered what you had done last.

The doctor spoke a fast introduction and he then moved on to fill you in on what had happened as confusion still painted your face although when he told you Genevieve’s account of what led up to your ultimate passing out, you visibly cringed at such carelessness that ended up bringing you here. Hundreds of falls, burns, and bruises thanks to your clumsy nature, but this had to be the one thing to send you to the hospital. Some sort of twisted joke it sure was.

Moving to roll a stool to your bedside, the doctor passed you a cold bottle of water before bringing his eyes to give your IV a quick check as a nurse had put it in not too long before you awoke.

“Luckily, Mrs. Rogers, your neighbors found you in time and you only experienced severe heat exhaustion. Had you prolonged your exposure anymore you could have experienced a heat stroke. For now, I ask that you rest and I’ll come back to release you.” The doctor expressed his reassurance with a kind grin before walking out of the plain and boxy room that could make one go insane with its lack of liveliness.

Staring out the open doorway and into the empty hallway, you knew that Steve worked on this very floor, but honestly what were the chances that he’d see you? At one point he’d eventually find out about today’s mishaps, but that was a problem for later when you were more conscious and caring. Letting your worries temporarily go (something that was only happening thanks to your fatigued mind), you slightly shifted into a somewhat “comfortable” position on the stiff bed and rough cotton sheets. Albeit that there was an IV uncomfortably stuck in your arm, you fell into a much needed slumber.

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Lunch break at last.

That was all that had been on Steve's mind for the past three hours which had been extremely hectic. Granted, he was used to this fast-paced workplace having worked here for almost a decade, but today was absolutely out of control with injured patients coming in left and right. It wasn’t some sort of bad omen, rather just an unlucky day for many Steve had assumed. He had just finished up with a pediatric case and was now on his way to enjoy the leftover baked chicken salsa that you had made just for him last night and packed for his lunch this morning. You knew how busy his week had been and you took the liberty to make his favorite dinner dish to compensate for the work that had left such a toll on him. A smile immediately overtook his face when he walked in the house last night and that’s when you decided that you would gladly cook anything he’d like over and over again just to see that look of adoration. As Steve held you in his arms at that moment, he kept thinking how he really didn’t deserve you and little did he know, the same thought ran in your own mind. Yet, in reality, you both went together like a puzzle piece to a puzzle. Without the piece, the picture would never be completed and without the other, you and Steve would have never enjoyed life to the fullest.

Strutting down the never ending hall, Steve passed many doors, some he had been in just a mere hour or two ago. As he walked past an open door and did a double take as he saw a patient asleep, but no sign of anyone else in the room. If he were that patient, he’d want the door shut for some privacy, something which the man highly valued, so he crossed the short distance and closed the door. He didn’t mean to look at the patient for so long as they weren’t in his care and that would be awfully creepy, but Steve could help but do a double take and noticed that the familiar face was, in fact, you. From first glance it didn’t even look like you and that was coming from the man who had studied your face just to commit it to his memory. In a loving way, of course.

He slowly walked in your room, taking in the image before him of you lying in a hospital bed. His mind had assumed that the worst thing had happened to you and for a moment, Steve’s breathing ceased and his legs were glued to the ground. As his eyes scanned over your body again, his fears were calmed when there were no visible wounds and you just seemed to be resting. Although as a doctor, he unfortunately knew anything could be possible.

Hunching over the top half of the bed, Steve smoothed your stray hairs away from your forehead and placed an awakening kiss there. You were a light sleeper a majority of the time and your spouse knew that this small action would wake, but not startle you. Every night he’d come home from work and do the same thing except then he knew you were safe and sound. Now, he was just filled with uncertainty.

“What happened?” Those were the only words he was able to get out and you gave him an answer, just not one that he was looking for. You were already getting defensive and he could sense it.

“Genevieve saw me pass out in the yard and overreacted, Steven. You know they all don’t exactly have good track records with medicine.” You rolled your eyes at the last statement remembering how your neighbors have often nonchalantly tried to get Steve to diagnose them when it came to something as simple as a scrape. Then again, all of your neighbors were in the business industry so that explained their lack of medical knowledge or at least that is the excuse you drew up for them.

“Nice try, (y/n), but you do have a medical chart and it’s over there,” Steve pointed over his shoulder and towards the doorway where a plastic chart holder sat mounted on the cream wall. “You didn’t just pass out, and the neighbors did not overreact. They did the right thing despite how much I know you hate that. Now, either you tell me the truth or I go read that file.” His tone was serious, but not condescending. Hidden in his eyes was a tad sprinkle of mischief.

Stubborn as ever, you didn’t respond and folded your arms over your chest in a form of defiance.

Against what is probably legal, Steve picked up your medical chart to read what had happened as you wouldn’t disclose the information to him. Your husband was a worry-wart sometimes and while you appreciated how he doctored you when you were sick, he could be a bit overbearing. A great example would be the time when you were cooking dinner and burned your forearm when taking the casserole out of the oven.

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“Babe, dinner is ready!”

The timer on the oven was currently beeping and you walked towards it. Turning off both the oven and the timer, you grabbed a short oven mitt and reached in to grab the casserole dish off the top rack. As you did so, you lifted your arm a bit too high and hit the side of your forearm on the interior roof of the oven. The temperature was ridiculously hot and the pain was immensely strong that you immediately pulled your arm back, the casserole long forgotten.

Steve came running in at your string of curses and came in to see you holding your arm and hissing a bit as if that would relieve the pain. He walked closer to you as you leaned up against the island. Your husband delicately took your arm in his hand, raking his eyes over the burn that was soon to blister.

After a short inspection, Steve placed his other hand on the small over your back and led you to the sink, flipping on the cold water and running it over your burn. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see you squeezing your own eyes shut in pain.

“I know, sweetheart, it hurts, I’m sorry.” He continued to rinse your scalded skin, but turned his head to sweetly kiss your temple.

A few minutes passed and Steve was content with the rinse job as you had finally opened your eyes, even engaging in some of your jokes that were always said at the wrong time. From the kitchen, the man guided you down the hallway, through your bedroom and into your joined bathroom. He sat you on the edge of the bathroom tub while rummaging through your unorganized medicine cabinet. It was barely ever touched and when it was, it was often in a state of panic hence the messiness of it. Fortunately, Steve found a tube of bacitracin and some cotton dressings from God knows how long ago. At this point he could care less and would rather have you cared for.

You curiously watched him as he dug through the cabinet and a loving smile grew on your face. How lucky were you to have this man. You were really appreciative of him in times like these especially.

Said man returned and crouched before you, distracting you from your thoughts as he softly grabbed your hand once more.

The doctor worked his magic and in no time was your arm wrapped up and lathered in ointment.

“Wow Doc, you did a great job.” Steve was still holding your hand as you quietly giggled in content. He placed a kiss on top of your knuckles and peered up at you with those gorgeous (and borderline seductive) sapphire eyes. Chuckling, Steve murmured against your skin, “Only for my favorite patient.”

As always, you decided to play along with Steve’s playful banter. “You’re not supposed to pick favorites, doc.”

Your husband knew your clumsy nature and seemed to have the perfect response, “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

With your non-injured hand you went to hit his shoulder and he grabbed it in faux hurt.

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“You know, Dr. Rogers, that is a violation and I can actually report you for it.” You lifted your line of sight to see Steve who looked back at you with his lips pressed in a fine line. He shook his head disapprovingly after reaching the end of the report and now looked like he was going to sit back in the seat beside your bed.

“Hey, what are you doing? They already examined me and I am about to get released.” The man ignored you and instead leaned over the flimsy bed railing. Steve rubbed his hands together in a warming manner before placing two fingers on your next in an attempt to find your pulse. He unfortunately carried that common trait among doctors of having hands that were colder than that of a penguin’s ass. You knew very well this pulse check was useless as you were in conditional health and that he was probably doing this to annoy you.

“Well I like to do a check of my own. It never hurts to get a second opinion, darling.” Blue eyes squinted at you and you returned the patronizing gesture.

The free hand that was not on your neck had found its way to hold your own hand and when your husband pulled back, he wore a smug smirk on his lips.

“Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?”

“You know, your shoulders must hurt from carrying such a big head all the time.” Steve had the nerve to laugh at your elementary grade insult and even though you weren’t really mad, your face would have said otherwise to anyone else.

“So I’ll take that as a yes then, wifey.” He then quickly dropped to press a chaste kiss to your lips before releasing your hand and sitting down in the chair.

Looking to the clock on the wall, you focused your vision on the distant numbers to read that it was most likely Steve’s lunch break.

“Are you spending your lunch break with me?” Your tone was now sweet and soft as it usually was towards Steve and his heart leaped at the progress being made.

“It seems that I am. ‘Was really looking forward to that chicken salsa, though.” A heap of blonde hair rested on your hand that Steve had now laid his head against, still holding tight with both of his own hands. You giggled at his dramatics and ruffled a free hand through his greasy hair.

“I haven’t eaten anything, you think you could spend your lunch break with me?” His head popped up at this and his face held the eagerness of an energetic puppy.

“Of course, sweetheart. We can head to the cafeteria. Hopefully they have something good for my girl.” It was now your turn for your heart to swell at his words. Not even a second later though, the sentimental moment was replaced with Steve’s usual sarcastic humor.

“See, I love you so much that I am willing to sacrifice my precious chicken salsa just to have lunch with you. You should be grateful to have me as your husband.” Steve’s pearly whites beamed at you in a cheesy smile and you gave a dismissive wave of your hand.

The two of you talked and enjoyed the rare time together for the next ten minutes until Steve noticed you shifting to sit up against the pillows. He thought nothing of it until suddenly you were throwing your legs over the side of the bed and making to get out of the so called cotton prison.

Waving a finger, Steve tutted you and hurriedly scooped your legs back onto the bed. You looked absolutely peeved and Steve knew it was from the way that he was treating you like a child or better yet, a patient. His wife, the fighter and he, the doctor. Two unlikely personalities but ones that worked best together nonetheless. This made Steve laugh whenever he thought about it.

“You can get up the minute you get released by the doc, okay?” Caring eyes now gave you a pleading look and you felt a small tinge of guilt crawling up your chest at how mean you had been to your husband when he has only been trying to help.

A knock on the wooden door signaled a visit from the one person you had been waiting on for what seemed to be ages.

“Speak of the devil.” Muttering the phrase so only Steve could hear you gave him an “I told you so” kind of look.

The Doctor looked up from the same clipboard as earlier to greet you once he made it in through the doorway, but he was surely surprised by the figure sitting in the chair beside you.

“Oh Dr. Rogers, what a surprise! So this is your wife I presume? I guess I should have put two and two together,” Your doctor of the moment laughed with Steve who added in a chuckle or two of his own.

“Yep, this is Mrs. Rogers!” Steve didn’t look at you, but lovingly squeezed your hand that was resting against his, “We are quite the handful so I am surprised you couldn’t tell that she was my other half.” A snicker ended his words and you couldn’t help but do the same.

Once the short introductions were over, the doctor walked over to do a speedy final exam on what was necessary as Steve watched from the sidelines still getting used to the idea of not being the one doing the examination. He hadn’t been in any other position in the hospital for such a long time that it took some time to get used to the fact that he wasn’t the one diagnosing and rather waiting for the diagnosis.

The doctor pulled away from hovering over you and now sat back on his rolling leather stool, scooting his way over to the computer and desk.

“Well I must say, (y/n), that you definitely live up to some of the stories your husband tells.” The other man in the white coat finished up his typing before turning back around to face you and his colleague.

“Ah, I hope he’s giving me some good street cred,” You teased and from the side you saw Steve shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.

“I assure you that they were all good things.” With that, the doctor formally released you, walking out of the room to give you some time to redress and such.

You went to get out of the bed for the nth time, but finally succeeded. Your legs felt a bit wobbly upon the first step, and Steve noticed this. He came up to stand beside you and placed a hand on your lower back with the other out in front in case you did fall. Placing your own hand on his scrub clad chest to steady yourself, you silently thanked him with a tender pat.

With Steve’s guidance, you went to change out of the wretched paper gown and into your shorts and shirt from working outside. It wasn’t exactly the most flattering outfit but at this moment you could care less for the only thing on your mind was getting out of this room.

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The ride in the elevator seemed to move slower than a snail and almost stopped on every floor. You were so crammed by the time you were only on the fifth floor that you used this as an excuse to lean up against Steve. He rubbed your arm and enveloped you in a side hug and planted a kiss on your head. The two of you never cared for PDA but neither of you had realized the onlooking eyes.

You found it mildly comedic when some of your fellow passengers seemed disgusted that a doctor was handling a patient in such a way. It was definitely gonna be a joke for later on.

Eventually you made it to the first floor and begrudgingly pushed yourself out of Steve’s warm embrace when the smell of garlic bread hit your nose.

“Huh, they never cook spaghetti around here. They must know we have a special guest today.” Steve pressed his lips against your ear to jokingly whisper to you as he ushered you out the elevator doors.

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Standing in line with a plastic tray at the cafeteria made you have flashbacks to middle school lunch and you shuddered at the thought. The memories played back in your mind like a movie and were interrupted (much to your relief) when Steve tapped your shoulder.

“You want this?” Steve held one of the plastic salad containers in hand, the white sleeve of his lab coat draped on top of the other stacked bowls in the open air freezer.

You nodded and he placed it on your tray, slightly bumping your hips as he walked past to grab a drink.

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For a good twenty minutes, you and Steve sat in comfortable silence in one of the booths until clicking clogs came closer and closer. So close that a shadow loomed over your table conveying that someone was here to speak.

“Dr. Rogers, I don’t think it’s entirely wise of you to have lunch with your patient. Actually, it’s quite inappropriate.” The older woman in burgundy scrubs pointed her gaze to the hospital band on your wrist and both you and Steve started laughing upon noticing. So that explained all the weird looks.

“Oh no, Dr. Williams! This is my wife (y/n),” You politely beamed up at the woman and set out your hand for a handshake. At this, her unenthusiastic expression changed to one of apologetic and she shook your hand with much grief as Steve continued on with his introductions.

“(y/n), this is Dr. Williams. She is the medical director for my department.”

“Wow! I’ve heard many wonderful things about you, Dr. Williams.” She went to return the praise before a beeping in her coat pocket signaled the time for her departure.

“Duty calls, but I’ll have you know this one here never shuts up about you. It was nice to finally put a face to a name, (y/n),” You glanced at Steve and noticed he was sheepishly grinning and turning redder by the second. So much so that he was hiding his face in his palms.

““I hope you have a quick recovery as well, hon!” The standing woman gave you a nod of her head and then turned to your husband whose face had finally regained its color. “As for you Steven, I will see you later. You have another resident to deal with today.” Dr. Williams sighed at the thought, waving you both goodbye and soon enough she was out the double doors of the lunch room.

“Ooh babe you’ll have to tell me how all of that goes.” Spooning some spaghetti into your mouth, you goofily raised your eyebrows at Steve.

“Trust me, it is not fun at all. When I was a resident, I would have never acted like some of the people I’ve trained!”

You snorted, “Uh huh. Sureee.”

“No really,” Steve’s eyes widened and he leaned over the table like he was sharing some sort of secret with you, “The audacity of some of these people.”

“I think you are just an old man now, Stevie, and can’t keep up with the times.” The blond screwed up his eyes and stuck his tongue out at you.

“Oh hush and finish your food, Miss. ‘I am soooo young’.” A napkin flew at Steve’s chest and the two of you laughed at the childish antics that had just ensued.

Just as both of your styrofoam containers became empty, an unpleasant ringer sounded in Steve’s pocket, just like the one of Dr. Williams’s departure. Once he gave the screen a swift peek, he looked back up at you with a long face.

“You gotta go?” Golden strands bobbed up and down as Steve nodded and you grabbed his hand.

“It’s alright! Thank you for spending the time with me today, though. I really appreciate it. Thanks for putting up with me, you know how I am sometimes.”

The larger hand encompassing yours gave a sympathetic squeeze.

“Oh darling, anytime, you know that. If you need anything, call me okay? I will try my best to answer.”

The temporary silence that filled the room was now replaced by annoying buzzing from the device that Steve had silenced for the moment. He irritability took it out and shoved it back in his pocket. Normally this didn’t bother Steve because this was his job, but since you were here, having just been sick, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything and focus on you. Knowing that was impossible, he tried his best to juggle both yet it seemed that the world wasn’t gonna wait on him.

“Do you want me to call Ma to come get you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Her and Dad love your company.” For the moment, Steve appeared to look like he was ignoring the constant beeping, but you knew internally he was already out of the cafeteria and sprinting down the halls.

“No no, I’m fine, honey,” The doctor stared at you as if he didn’t believe you. “I mean it, Steve. I am fine. Now shoo.”

Dr. Rogers shared another laugh with you before pecking your lips and running out the room shouting, “I’ll see you later!”

He really was too good for this world.

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a/n: i really enjoyed writing for doctor!steve, so if anyone has any ideas that involves him and that you’d like me to write, send it in! <3

taglist (is open!): @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline @siriuslyslyslytherin @sushiinmidnight @patzammit @iwik3it

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #doctor steve rogers #doctor steve rogers x wife reader

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zachsgamejournal · 3 years

Text

PLAYING: Breath of Fire IV

I think we’re closing in on the end. But in good ole BoF fashion, the last leg is taking the longest. Also, Nina is totally the main character of this game.

NINA

I’ve only ever beaten BoF 3, 4, and 5--though I’ve played 1 & 2. It’s a constant that Ryu is the main character, and that Ryu is the player. Ryu is never (to rarely) given dialog because the player is meant to imagine the voice of Ryu. And while this definitely works for BoF 3 and 5, Nina is clearly the main character in 4.

1. We Start the Game as Nina

In both BoF 3 and 5, we start the game as Ryu, and that’s basically where we stay for the whole adventure (occasionally controlling other characters). BoF 4 has us start with Nina. It’s a simple distinction, but sets up my next point.

2. Nina Makes All the Decisions

My screenwriting professor said the main character makes the decisions that drive the story. In this sense, Ryu is extremely passive. He’s mostly just along for the ride. It’s Nina that offers to help him, Nina that decides he should tag along, and it’s Nina’s quest he joins. Later, Nina decides to rescue Cray. Nina goes to her father for help. Nina asks the gods for assistance. Nina insists they save Ryu. Nina encourages Dies not to abandon Ershin. Nina insists on the helping that furry...thing. All the while, Ryu is just like, “...sure.”

I vaguely know how the game will end, so we’ll see if this all holds up.

3. It’s Nina’s Quest

The game starts with Nina and Cray on a mission to find/rescue her sister. While Ryu is integral to the plot, he doesn’t have a lot of skin in the game. Nina is also royalty, and this game has some Games of Thronesian politics going on. While Ryu’s actions carry little weight beyond the act itself, everything Nina does has the ability to affect policy and international relationships. We see this when the Empire pressures the Alliance to cede territory post Nina’s rescue op failure.

Also, Nina just told Ryu that she loved Cray. Ryu isn’t even the love interest in this game.

I’m actually really happy that Nina is the star. Female characters aren’t normally given the respect they deserve. Maybe instead of Breath of Fire, they should have called this “Wings of Destiny”...cause Nina has wings.

Back to the Plot

So, Ryu went super-Dragon and killed some imperials. The gods have offered to help Ryu, (as long as he plays hide and seek first), and Fou-Lu has escaped the village in which he had started to feel at home.

Nina and the team discuss things and decide that if it’s Ryu’s destiny to meet up Fou-Lu, they might as well confront him proactively. They seem to be under the impression that the empire is using Fou-Lu gain power (if they only knew).

Ursala is the Imperial captain that captured us, but now she’s our captive. The team asks her to help them get into the Empire. She’s confused. It was her mission to bring the dragon to the Empire, so this kind of works out...She agrees and is now a playable party member.

I like her.

Heading back to the warp gate, we learn that it’s broken because of our previous activities (and because we were attacked by Captain Jackass). Ursala tries to make us feel bad, but she works for an evil Empire--so jog-on. We have to head north and need a sandflier but don’t have the cash. This is comical, cause I put in a cheat for infinite Zenny way back when...

We’re supposed to ask a merchant sandflier for help, but we’re too late. Ursala immediately jumps to action and without a word, Scias follows her lead. They take the merchant ship like a band of pirates and it turns out to be a French-accented froggy friend from before that sexually harassed Nina, Marlok. He tries to make use feel guilty, which works on Nina and Cray--but the rest of us know he’s a POS. He offers us a bond to buy a ship, expecting that we’ll do great things and thus able to cash in on our success.

We get to a checkpoint, but it’s blocked. Ursala wants to fight the guards, but Nina is against it. We do the non-violent solution of trampolining over the wall. We get to a ship yard...I only now realized in the game that the oceans aren’t water--but mud. weird...where’s all the water? So the only seas are up north.

The captain doesn’t want us on without the blessing of the sea god. We got to coastal cave and find the Sea Dragon there...I think. We get his blessing and are good to go. The captain now doesn’t want women on board. The women insist that they are tough and have been through a lot. The muscle the dude we keep fighting shows up, and it’s implied that his defeat would prove we’re tough. Ursala shoots him and falls off the mass of the ship. So a new test of courage is needed. Ursala and Nina must stay within the hull of the ship over night with ghosts and bugs. They succeed.

As we travel across the sea, we fight muscle dude again (he was much stronger this time). And then the wind stops. The sailors think this area is haunted, maybe by a god. We go check it out. The dungeon is interesting, but frustrating. You have to walk across planks to get to the other side, but the planks break and drop you down into the hull. There’s a light over your head to warn you when you’re about to fall, but I still fell a lot. In the hull, as you walk, skulls that are spread about rattle and vibrate: it’s eerie and entertaining. Eventually we find a rock creature that thinks of itself as a god, but it’s just a rock powered by god-power. So we kill it.

No remorse.

The wind returns and we make it across the sea. After traveling through a jungle, we meet a furry thing. I feed it some food and it seems happy...I think. At the end of the jungle we find a treehouse and are attacked by more furries. The previously furry comes to our defense and we meet Beyd. He has married one of the furries and maybe these are his children? Cray had my reaction and was like, “Well...uh, anyway--how do we get to the empire?”

One of the furries gets sick and Nina vows to save it (cause she’s the main character!). This brings us to an interesting, but not super fun mini game. We get to sail the boat, but you have limited supplies. Every second you’re on the seas, the supplies get used, but they’re used faster if you row. Rowing is necessary because the wind doesn’t always blog in the direction you need. So you have to decide whether to burn supplies by rowing, or wait for the wind to change directions. There’s places to find and treasure to discover. It is, kinda fun...

While we’re out here collecting medicine on the high seas, I also find the sea god: SCORE!

We save the furry and are guided to some islands that are available to walk across when the tide is low. So we venture a cross some tropical keys. It’s pretty. The group gets tired and Nina insists on taking a break: cause she’s the main character. After our rest, the tide has risen and the group is trapped. Cray is pissed and Nina feels responsible.

This is an interesting part of the game cause the group has to survive on an island and reflect on their mission. Ursala warns it could be months or years before the tide recedes. Chill Ursala. The group explores the island and finds both water and and great fishing spot. We’re gonna be fine. Just delayed.

Scias likes the island, as he just sleeps all day. After a while, Cray chills out and apologizes for his temper. While Ryu is casting a line, Nina reveals that she’s in love with Cray, causing Ryu to trip. Nina reflects on her feelings, unsure if they’re true and doubtful that Cray feels the same.

The tide recedes and the team escapes. We come to a riverlands that requires some log riding and log dodging. It’s cute, but I want to get out of here...

Fou-Lu, after escaping the village, receives a direct hit from the hex canon. They apparently used the friendly lady that help Fou-Lu as a “sacrifice” to power the canon. EVIL! Fou-Lu survives and arrives at the capital. He meets statue guardian that recognizes him as the first emperor. Fou-Lu orders the guardian to destroy the imperial city. Fou-Lu is pissed, and just doesn’t seem to think humans are worth it...

As the guardian destroys the city, Fou-Lu cleans up loose ends, finally killing the general that ambushed him on the night of his awakening, and then killing the current emperor. The Emperor first tries to act subservient to Fou-Lu, but then stabs him with the “dragon slayer” sword. It doesn’t work and Fou-Lu laughs in his face.

Similar to Breath of Fire 3, the game has reached a point where it doesn’t have more story to tell, but wants to add hours. So there’s tons of little quests and obstacles that have little to do with the overall plot. It’s sad, because the minigames and mini-nations they’ve created are really interesting.

I tried to think back to how Final Fantasy 7 handled this. I think, for the most part, the game doesn’t make its endgame clear until much later. Most of the game is, “What should we do now?” So I don’t feel there’s as much a “rush” to get to the end. Also, much of the game is about tracking Sephiroth, so you’re really looking for clues as you find obstacles, vs having an end destination and just running into a million reasons why you can’t get to it. You feel out of control and inconvenienced. But these obstacles would make really interesting and fun side quests. Having them as options would absolutely make them more interesting.

Another thing that Final Fantasy 7 really succeeds at is making each new area a new piece of the puzzle. You’re always learning history about the world or a character. So while it might be a brief obstacle, it’s also an interesting deeper dive into the world. Breath of Fire’s diversions don’t feel as enlightening.

Still, BoF4′s diversions still feel like progress cause we inch closer to the goal...it’s just that we’re not getting much character or world development in the process.

Combat

I do prefer the combat over BoF3 (and many RPGs). I like that the other characters are always on-call in the battle, and it’s easy to switch out (more so than Final Fantasy X -- how I remember it anyway). I’ve done zero grinding, and I’m pretty proud that I’ve survived so far. After crossing the sea, it seemed like the enemies were getting ahead of me, but I got better at using the spell combos (which are cool!). So surviving a few battles usually meant getting a few levels up. When I first played the game, i was cool with grinding, but I’m glad I don’t have to now. The only thing that is cheating: I gave myself 99999+ zenny. So I’m able to stock up on healing supplies. Though it helps, I’m sure a few hours of grinding would have me being just as well stock on healing supplies.

Is it better than Breath of Fire 3?

I’m a little torn. Breath of Fire 4 is “epic”. There are multiple nations that have a strong sense of culture and history. The mythology around the dragons is of the galactic scale. World War is in the balance and my party includes two members of royalty and two semi-gods. The world feels huge even if the story is pretty linear.

In contrast, Breath of Fire 3 had three nations--that I could tell: Wyndia, Eastern Kingdom, and across the sea. Strangely, Wyndia had gangster cities, gangster markets, and amoral lab that was accidentally making mutants. While eastern kingdom seemed pretty chill and peaceful--but lacked a ruling entity. Hmmm...

Where Breath of Fire 3 feels “better” is that it feels more personal. The story starts small: a lost dragon-boy found my starving thieves. We live in a small town and solve small-town issues. This slowly grows to include local gangsters, a kingdom, and a dragon holocaust before we battle God. I like Breath of Fire 4′s characters, but I feel like I have a stronger bond with BoF3′s. Also, I felt like BoF3 tried to explore the grey area: killing monsters that had feelings. I felt emotionally challenged in the different scenarios. Whereas, BoF4 is always: “We’re the good guys, and we do the good things!”

#Zach's Game Journal #PLAYING #Breath of Fire 4 #PlayStation #PS1 #DuckStation #Video Games #Nina is the Hero #Of Gods and Dragons #JRPG

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lilwenney · 4 years

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looking for affection in all the wrong places (pt. v)

pairing: will x female!reader warning(s): alcohol & angst (a good duo) word count: 3.6k a/n: part i, part ii, part iii, and part iv / playlist can be found here / here’s the last part to this lil mini-series that i honestly loved writing for, and it sparked my interest in writing once again. i understand that as i post this, the world is changing around us, and while this is a good distraction for just a few minutes, please don’t let it distract you from the movement that is happening. here is a twitter thread full of resources and petitions to help the BLM movement <3

This Friday night looked a lot different than the last.

While she was used to the loud music, revolving multi-colored lights, and being surrounded by close friends in a packed flat miles above the city in Canary Wharf, sometimes (Y/N) found comfort in the corner of a pub in Rotherhithe with her classmates, sipping an ale.

It was the last Friday of the year she planned on spending in London, just a week before Christmas, and everyone still in the city was having one last go-around before heading home for the holiday. While last week her and her classmates celebrated the passing of their exams and clinical, this time, the celebration was a little more bittersweet - when the new semester of classes rolled around in January, they would all be split up, working in different parts of the city for field work, so this was the last time they were sure to see each other before May.

It was only part of the reason (Y/N) decided to skip James’ last party of the year, or so she told herself.

Earlier that night, she stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, staring at her own reflection, at the little black dress she slipped into, and she felt her heart continue to drop into her stomach.

Everything she had been doing on recent Friday nights, she was so proud of at one time - proud for making her ex-boyfriend jealous, proud that she could get a rise out of him, but now that the tables had turned and her feelings were on the line, she wasn’t proud anymore. Instead, she felt just as bad as the day her and Adrian split.

Because now her feelings, as foolish as she was to let them get out of hand, now rested with Will. Her feelings rested with him and his equally fucked up emotions, all relying on his decisions and his wants.

She couldn’t allow herself to go to James’ party, to get sucked into the moment as soon as Will placed a hand on her back, and she couldn’t allow herself to face him while she imagined he debated on whether he wanted to get back with his ex or if this fling was too much fun to end.

After her talk with Cleo on Wednesday night she realized that she had things to figure out about herself, and it would take some time away from the situation to clear her head and find out exactly what she needed to know.

So instead of mentally preparing for James’ party, sliding alcohol into her purse, and ordering an Uber, she slipped out of her dress and put on her boyfriend jeans, texted her classmates, slung on a jacket and left her flat, taking her car to a pub across the Thames before anyone was able to ask any questions.

But of course, Cleo texted her ten minutes later, wondering where she snuck off to while she was gone on a Waitrose run. All (Y/N) did was text her the address to the pub in response, not saying much more other than she was meeting classmates, and Cleo texted back for her to be careful.

And an hour later, Cleo wasn’t the only one taking note in her missing presence.

In the kitchen of James’ flat, Will was holding a plastic cup filled to the brim with his own mixed drink, laughing with Ciarán and Callum when he spotted Cleo’s blonde head popping in and out of groups. He had been there since nine for pregame but he hadn’t seen her come in, and he hadn’t seen (Y/N) either.

“Ay man, I’ll be right back.” Will said patting Callum’s back as he stepped around him. The group continued their conversation behind him as he walked over to the kitchen island and looked around, raising to the tips of his trainers to get a good view above the heads crowding the open space.

More people had shown up to this party than the previous two, everyone was shoulder-to-shoulder in the living room, and aside from Simon and Tobi, who were the closest to the kitchen, he couldn’t make out any faces.

He always saw (Y/N) when she came around, everyone did. She was like a beacon of light, guiding you straight to her, unable to miss when she beamed a smile or laughed over the music. She had a demanding presence and now, her presence was missing, and it was noticeable.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he looked at the lockscreen, realizing that she hadn’t texted him or the group-chat either. They hadn’t spoken since Wednesday night when she was at his and they had a few drinks, and now, she was a no-show, and worry began to sit in - she hardly missed Friday nights, and this was the longest they had gone without talking in weeks.

Among the people in the room were Adrian and Hanna. Adrian was sitting on the sofa next to James and James’ girlfriend, but he was alone, checking his watch like an attempt to get away from the conversation, and Hanna was with a new date this week, and the guy she was with looked just as uninterested as Adrian.

Quietly cursing to himself, Will pocketed his phone and began to move through the bodies, spotting Cleo and moving towards her with each step. Pushing past JJ and George who were gathered near the drink table, he came into an open space between the table and patio, and when Cleo and him locked eyes, he could already read it on her face.

“Hey,” he licked his lips, scanning the room once more with no luck before looking back down at her, “did (Y/N) come with you?”

Cleo turned away from Astrid to look at him and she shook her head. “No, she is out with some of her classmates instead.”

His brow creased. “Classmates? She ditched us for her classmates?”

She gave him a pity laugh, shaking her head. “I guess so. She was gone before I got back.”

“Do you know where she’s at? With her classmates?”

“The Mayflower, in Rotherhithe. They go there all the time after studying.” She watched Will nod, taking in his expressions that border-lined worry. From behind, Astrid reached out and grabbed her hand at the sight of another one of their friends entering the room from the hallway, but Cleo took a second to look back at Will with a half-smile, and she then decided to play the role of best-friend again. “You should talk to her, you know.”

Will looked at her, but she didn’t say anything else, instead allowing Astrid to lead her across the room where Gee walked in with Chip. The plastic cup in his hand crackled as he gripped it tighter, and a second later, with a sigh, he got out of his phone again, pulling up their thread of texts.

William Hey can we talk?

Breaking away from the laughter of the group, (Y/N) looked down at her phone on the table as the screen lit up. A photo of her and Cleo was covered by texts from the one person she wasn’t keen on facing or talking to that night. When the group laughed again, this time without her, she flipped her phone over and joined the conversation again.

Back in the flat, Will waited and waited for her to open the messages, for a reply, anything, but he received radio silence in return.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

Returning his eyes back up to the party, watching those who were already drunk stumble around, hearing someone jokingly play Aitch, he quickly realized that he no longer wanted to be here. There was no reason for him to be here if she wasn’t, because other than them making out for the sake of others to see, he only found these parties enjoyable if she was by his side throwing back shots, laughing at or with him, or pulling him to dance. He could talk to any of these people at any time he wanted, but they weren’t why he was there.

He flipped through the possibilities of the night in his head - staying with his mates and getting smashed for the umpteeth Friday in a row or storming into a pub in southeast London for the sake of easing his gut feeling.

And then he let his gut win.

“Fuck,” he repeated before moving through the throngs of people to the door into the hallway, leaving his drink, his friends behind him.

Sliding behind Becky and into the foyer, he heard a voice call out for him from behind. Turning around as he reached the front door, he saw Hanna. She stood at the beginning of the foyer looking at him, a smile on her face, happy to finally catch him alone.

He looked at her and saw the last few months of his life, saw familiarity in the way she looked at him, and while his heart tugged him forwards, his gut pulled him back. Will gave her a glance and didn’t say a word before turning around and sliding out of the door, leaving her behind him while he rushed down to the car park. He had planned on spending the night at James’ in case he drank too much, but now he only had a few sips in his system and had a more important idea in mind.

The Mayflower Pub was just a few minutes away, tucked away on the Thames, and luckily with a few visits under his belt, he could remember the street perfectly. Cutting in and out of late night traffic, Will pulled his car into a spot outside of the pub, a familiar red car parked just across the street.

The Mayflower was exactly like he remembered - the smell of lager and cigars, the same hazy atmosphere from the smoke, dark oaks and deep colors, and rather loud belly laughter from regulars.

But he didn’t care about the regulars or the bartender calling out for him to order the second he stepped inside, he was more focused on finding one person.

Once he whipped his head around to look in each corner, he heard a loud group laugh to his right, catching his attention. And then he spotted her, sitting at the edge of the booth near the door to the patio. She was smiling behind the rim of her frozen glass, her jacket hung across the seat behind her, and she looked happy.

She wasn’t dressed up like he always saw her on Friday nights. She looked casual, relaxed, and happier than he had seen her recently.

Will’s heart raced as he walked over to her, catching glimpses of those seated around the booth in front of her. There had to have been at least seven of them, all with drinks, recalling memories, and they paused when he stopped at the end of their table.

With the glimpse of a denim jacket out the corner of her eye, she raised her head, sitting the glass back on the table when she recognized his face. He paused, lips parted like he wanted to speak, but she cut him off first.

“Will, what are you doing here?” She asked, the rest of the group remaining silent. Suddenly it was like every pair of eyes in the room was on them, and they could feel it too.

He swallowed hard, “I just needed to talk to you.”

She looked at him, and if looks could kill, he would be dead on the floor. To have him barge into a pub in front of all of her friends was embarrassing enough, let alone for the entire pub to be watching on.

“Well come on then,” she stood from her chair, grabbing the dusty pink jacket off the back and sliding it on. He watched her turn back to her friends, holding out a hand as if signaling them she would be back in a minute, and then she led him out the patio door and into the cold night.

The patio was dark and quiet, overhanging the water and lit only by small fairy lights strung across the canopy roof. Along the Thames Will could see small boats flashing at docks, lights from buildings reflecting off the rippling water.

“How did you know where I was?” She asked once they were out of ear-shot from those inside, standing between the empty wooden tables.

“Cleo,” Will said, stuffing his hands into his pockets to fight off the cold. “I noticed you didn’t show up so I asked. I was worried.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “I’m here with my classmates, Will, you can’t just barge in like this.”

“I messaged you and you didn’t respond-”

“That doesn’t mean you have to come and find me. I would have texted you back eventually.” Their eyes met through the gentle darkness, yellow lighting shining down onto them. “I just didn’t want to go tonight, yeah?”

He raised a brow. “You never miss a Friday.”

“I have before,”

“Once, because you were still drunk from a Thursday night for Fraser’s birthday.” He said, slight humor now laced in his tone, and she shook her head to prevent herself from letting out a laugh. When he realized she wasn’t budging, Will took a deep breath, leaning against a table. “I don’t know what’s going on here, love.”

“I don’t either.” That was a lie.

She looked away, back to the water in front of her. She watched the water ripple under the deck under her feet, sloshing against the rock base of the pub. This was one of those times where she wished everything was easier, that people knew what she was thinking so she didn’t have to say it out loud. She also wished it was warmer outside.

Taking in a deep breath, the fresh air filling her lungs, she breathed out before finally speaking up, cutting out the silence.

“Fuck, Will, I didn’t want to go tonight because I’m tired.” She said suddenly, not meeting his eyes, but feeling him look at her side-profile. “I’m over getting dressed up to go out and neck ya for the sake of making someone jealous.”

Will’s head fell forward, looking at the space between his feet, toeing the floor with a trainer. “We don’t have to do that anymore,”

“I don’t want to,” she said before shaking her head, eyes still trained on the water. Her hands slipped into the pockets of her own jacket, balled into fists, nails digging into her palm as she began to confess. “I don’t want to do it because I’m starting to like you. And that’s not at all what I wanted to happen.”

He wanted her to look at him, to tell him that directly, but his mind was playing keep-up, piecing things together as she continued to ramble on.

“I panicked when Hanna texted you the other day. I was afraid you were going to go back to her, that we did all of this to make her jealous so she could come running back and you two… you two can get back together. And I didn’t want to be a part of it anymore if that’s what it was for.”

“I never wanted her back,” Will finally said, easing all of her doubts at once. “I thought you wanted to do it too. For the sake of making that bloke jealous.”

“I did, I did want to do it,” she admitted bitterly, leaning against the table behind her, “I wanted to do it to make Adrian feel... something. I wanted him to get angry, to be jealous, to feel what I have felt every time we were ‘off’ again and he had another girl. And I was proud of it at first, but now, seeing him like that doesn’t make me feel anything.” There was a second she paused, gathering her thoughts, the courage, and she finally met his eyes. “Instead I realized how much I like you being around. I care more about being around you than making some dickhead jealous.”

Will looked at her, and she noticed the small smile on the corners of his lips when she said those special little words. He took a step towards her, testing the waters, and then another step when she didn’t react.

“It’s mutual, you know,” he said and her angry facade dwindled, heading snapping to look at him. “Don’t know if it was necking ya or what it was, but yeah, I realized that I like you a lot more than I planned. I want you to be around all the time. Fucking ‘ell I left the party tonight because you weren’t there and I hated it-” he paused and licked his lips, “I hated it because you weren’t there,” he emphasized. “It’s borin’ and I realized I would much rather be somewhere else.”

She laughed briefly. “Did it really take us to neck it at a party in front of all of our friends to realize this?”

“Yeah, maybe it’s always been deeper than us being friends.”

“Are you saying we have always liked each other?”

“Well, yeah, knew you have always been attracted to me. Look at me for god's sake,” he said using his hands to motion up to his face.

She snorted, “a bit of a knob you are. Don’t know why I like you so much.”

Will shrugged with a smile and leaned against the table next to her, their hips, shoulders brushing. “Can say the same for you,”

“You like me then, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, nodding, and they looked at each other again, eyes softer, “and I can definitely get used to liking you more.”

She squinted, “humor me then. What’s one thing you like about me?”

“That I can beat you in any video game known to man.”

That was a lie. He liked her because she was someone he felt truly comfortable around, and he also liked her laugh, how it filled a room and filled his chest with joy.

“Oh piss off,” her soft demeanor switched off as she knocked her shoulder against his, his laughter filling the open space around them, and she smiled. “My favorite thing about you is that you suck at board games, so it’s win-lose I guess,”

That was a lie. She liked his laugh, the loud, full-body laugh, and she liked his presence, how welcoming it was, calming, in a sense.

“So your favorite thing about me isn’t my rather plump bottom?”

“Fuck off!” She laughed, pushing herself off the edge of the table.

Will laughed loudly and reached out, sliding his hand in the bend of her elbow, preventing her from walking away. “M’joking,” he said, pulling her to stand between his legs. “I know it’s your favorite thing about me.”

He laughed again at himself, and (Y/N) swore it became her favorite sound. His smile was inviting, contagious. She sunk into him when he pulled her closer, her hand retreating from her pocket and sliding around his shoulder, allowing her to softly play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Will stared up at her, as the yellow fairy lights shined dimly down onto her head, creating a halo on her crown. A stillness fell around them as they looked at each other - the water was no longer sloshing under their feet, the laughter from inside the pub had calmed.

In a swift movement, she dropped her head down and pressed her lips against his. Will’s arms snaked around her waist and brought her body into his, his free hand raising up and winding in her hair, holding her head still.

And kissing her was just as good as the other times, but this time, a bit better. There was no loud pounding music, no eyes locked on them, no motivation driving them other than their own interest. He lost himself in the taste of her chapstick, the way her breath fanned across his lips when she giggled before their lips met again, and then again.

Her body yearned for his touch, melting forward into his jumper to contrast against the bitter wind that nipped at her cheeks. And Will allowed her to, his hand slipping past the hem of her jacket and pressing flat against her lower back, warming her up from the outside in.

When she pulled back, Will raised to his normal height and looked at her - picturing them doing this months ago, hell, maybe years ago if the timing was right. They kissed once more and she laughed, this time for the same reason as Will started laughing. They had wasted so much time when they really could have been doing this all along. Where they started didn’t quite add up to how they would eventually end.

“You should go back in.” Will said, straightening his shoulders back. “Your friends probably think I pitched ya over the edge.”

She laughed, breath rolling past her lips and turning into vapor. “And you should stay, have a drink or two with us.”

“You sure?” He asked and she nodded hastily, taking a step towards the door.

“Yeah, yeah, no one else is drinking a lot and I need someone to drink under the table.”

Will groaned. “I’m bein’ used to boost your ego again, yeah?”

“So is that a yes?”

“When is it not?”

Will lazily grinned and slung his arm over her shoulders, allowing her to lead him back inside, down a few steps and emerging back into the amber light and sounds of laughter.

#i'm gonna miss affection tbh #might have to write lil extras soon #anyways #will #fic: affection #fanfic

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mechaspirit · 7 years

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Lost

Author’s Notes: So this is basically the aftermath of what happened after all that crazy shit going down in the final chapter of Endless Summer Book 2. Seriously, that chapter was...painful to watch. I didn’t want to restart it, but I have to just so I can gather all the idols in order to solve the puzzle. Dang, Pixelberry really has outdone themselves in Endless Summer. They know how to break our hearts on this one. Makes me wonder what’s going to happen in book 3.

So onto the actual fanfic here. Everyone in the group, of course, are separated and should still be alive somewhere on the island. Otherwise, the amber idols wouldn’t be activated in that temple. Here, I’m trying to do the possible insights on what actually happened after all that...crazy attempt to escape only to be separated again. And that’s actually worse than in the first book in my opinion. Emotional wise, of course.

Anyway, to those who are really emotional, prepare your tissues. Because...you might need it.

Rated: T

Pairings: MCxJake, DiegoxVaryyn, & CraigxZahra.

Summary: After being separated and going through the terrifying escape attempt, the gangs are left with what’s to come as well as trying to piece through what just happened.

“Diego, just go!”

“No way!”

“He’s trying to stall us! You have to go, now!”

“Hey D. You’re okay? You’re looking really pale right now.”

“Huh?!” Diego sat up straight just to see three of his friends surrounding the campfire, looking at him in concern, “Oh, sorry guys. I’m just...worried about the others. Y’know...”

“Even Yurika?” Raj asked. Seeing his head down and his hair covered his eyes indicated that Raj was correct, “Hey man. It’s okay. We’re all worried for them.”

“I know,” Diego responded as he wrapped his arms around himself, “It’s just that...I have a bad feeling for her. I didn’t want to leave Rika there even after she told us to leave without them. I mean, we did see the top part of the MASADA facility exploded. And now...”

Michelle sighed at the dark haired man’s response, “Look Diego. Yurika’s a tough girl. And she knows what to do with this kind of situation ever since we entered this island. You gotta put more trust in her. Trust me, if it weren’t for her putting others before herself, any of us would’ve been dead by now.”

Both men were surprised to see the pre-med student making an encouraging comment rather than a snarky one. Nevertheless, Raj nodded in agreement.

“Michelle’s right. We just to trust that Yurika and the other’s are fine and that they escaped! Plus, as soon as we find them, we have to save Grace as well. There’s still a lot to do before we leave this island, so don’t fret just yet, D.”

Diego managed to smile a little, seeing encouragement from his two friends. “Thanks, guys. I kinda need to hear it.”

Just then, a cold wind breezed through the campsite and Diego started shivering from the cold. Dammit. Part of him wished that they were at the Elysian Lodge instead, but none of them want to risk staying there in case Rourke and his goons managed to catch up with them and find them there, so they just have to stay at the campsite.

“Diego, you’re cold. Here.”

The Latino man felt a blanket wrapped around him and saw that the blue-skinned, golden-eye elyyshar was the one who gave the warm fabric to him.

“Thanks, Varyyn. But aren’t you cold, too?” Diego said in concern, noting the lack of warm clothing on Varyyn.

“Do not worry. I know how to adapt to the heat,” Varyyn responded, “Besides, you need it more than I do.”

The dark-haired man smiled in a loving gratitude and gently rest his head on the blue man’s shoulder. The latter responded by wrapping his arm lovingly around Diego and holding him close, telling him that he should rest for now since they still have a long journey ahead of them.

After helping Raj putting out the campfire and preparing to sleep for the night, Michelle looked up at the starless sky...and then to the remains facility where they barely managed to escape. The dark blonde hair woman can’t help but wondered what really happened to the rest of the gang. Then, she let out a whispered in prayer.

“Sean...Quinn...Yurika...everyone. Please be alright.”

Cold...Numb...Alone...Freezing...

Those were what Zahra was feeling right now ever since that damn Arachnid commander dragged her down along with him from the helicopter after she manages to electrocute him.

She did vaguely remember seeing Craig reaching out trying to save her, but failed to do so in time. Zahra may not be the most amiable person in the world, but she does care about that dumb jock a lot. No matter how much she tried to push that feeling away. Being on that crazy island made her realized that.

But is Craig still alive along with the others? Did they at least land somewhere safely? If that’s the case, is Craig still worried about her, perhaps maybe even looking for her?

Just then, as if being pulled back to the surface again, the dark hair woman woke up with a jolt, panting really heavily. As soon as Zahra readjusted her senses, and saw that she was in a white room, wearing white pajamas, and lying on a white bed. Zahra could feel white bandages wrapped around her head, and her arm was hooked to an IV as well as a heart monitor.

What the actual hell? Zahra thought, Where am I? This can’t be a hospital.

As far as the hacker genius is concerned, there are no actual hospitals in La Huerta. Hotels? They’ve been to two so far, so yes. Laboratories? No doubt about that. But hospitals? No. Definitely not normals ones unless that scumbag wants his workers to do some experiments or dissections on them. Zahra, who was trying to recover from her fall, still have no idea where the heck is she nor did she knew where Sparky went.

“Well well well. The hacker is finally awake.”

...But Zahra now knows who had found her unconscious. And that voice confirms it. She turned to her captor and glared at him menacingly.

“You...!”

Rourke can only grin in satisfaction as a response.

“Now there’s no need to be hostile like that, Namazi. In fact, I have an interesting proposal for if you’re willing to listen...”

“Ngh...Where am I?”

A young woman, possibly around twenty to twenty-one years old, woke up groggily and found herself on a sandy beach. She could hear the waves flowing and the seagulls chirping. Although the scenery is beautiful, the woman appeared to be more confused than awe with her surrounding. She has no idea why is she lay unconscious on the beach...

...nor she knows she is. Not even her name.

Slowly, the woman approached towards the shore where she can see her reflection above the clear, blue water. She could make out that she had really long, red hair and beautiful, bright blue eyes filled with confusion. Her outfit consisting of a simple white-button up shirt and blue shorts were covered in ashes, which confuses her even more because she couldn’t recall anything that she had done with anything with fire.

Just what the heck happened to her?

Suddenly, a flash appeared before her eyes. The red-headed woman could make out the sound of the alarm ringing, the helicopter flying...and another young woman around her age with long blonde hair and dark green eyes looking back at her in shock and realization.

The ginger can hear her own voice saying, “...I won’t forget you, Yurika.”

“What? Quinn, what are you-”

Then, her visions started to flash in green and that was the last thing that she could remember before everything else ended up in explosions.

Quinn? Is...is that my name? And who is Yurika?

The red hair woman clutched her head. This...this all of a sudden became too much for her to process what’s going on and what really happened to her. Unbeknownst to her, the red-headed woman’s eyes started glowing green again in confusion and remorse...

Somewhere in an unknown part of the mysterious island, a dismantled, burnt Arachnid helicopter landed in the middle of the tropical forest. Sean, Jake, Estela, and Craig were fortunate enough to survive the crash. However, that crash has cost them some medical attention due to the impact from the landings they have before that helicopter exploded.

Luckily, the survivors were able to snag a medical kit left in the helicopter before the explosions and are in the process of patching each other up. Despite their best effort of doing that, none of them are medical experts like Michelle and they wished that the Vietnamese pre-med was here to patched them up because their injuries hurt as hell.

For a couple of them, however, their physical pain from their injuries felt nothing compared to the pains in their heart.

Craig slumped down next to a palm tree and stared down at the sandy ground, looking remorse. The star quarterback noticed this and sat next to his best friend.

“Hey man. Is something wrong?” Sean asked, concerned.

“It’s...it’s nothing,” Craig muttered.

“...It’s Zahra, isn’t it?” Sean heard his partner whimpered slightly, indicating that he was right.

“I...I let her fall, Sean,” Craig cried, burying his head into his knees, “I’ve could run fast enough and grabbed her to safety, but I was too late. She...She-”

Craig couldn’t finish his words and instead, let more tears fell from his dark brown eyes. Sean gently wrapped his arm around his best friend and let the latter cried onto his shoulder. He knew how important Zahra is to Craig, and he also knew that they were starting to become closer again ever since they entered this island.

“Don’t worry, Craig. We’ll find her,” Sean told him, “We’ll find Zahra and everyone else on this island because we aren’t leaving this place without them.”

As he said this, Sean looked across the sandy path straight of them and a worried look crossed his face as he realized that Craig isn’t the only one dealing with his loss.

Meanwhile, a dead look crossed his face as Jake sat against another palm tree, blankly staring at the dark sky. There were no stars shining this time, which certainly fits the mood here. The pilot really wished that he has a flask on him, filled with whatever alcohol there is it the numb the pain inside him.

First of all, not only did Jake found out that his best friend, Mike, was alive, but he also found out that Mike turned out to be one of Lundgren’s lieutenant, Mouse. To make that situation worse, that fuckin’ commander did something to the poor guy to make him a mindless soldier and work for him. Jake could tell that because of the emotionless look Mike gave him while hanging onto to the mountain cliff of the MASADA facility. Part of Jake wished that Mike remained dead because the latter didn’t deserve to go through all of this and he also wished that he could’ve killed Lundgren sooner while he had the chance. Hell, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure if he could bring Mike back despite Yurika encouraging him that they should at least try.

Yurika...Tears began to fall from his cerulean blue eyes. The thought of his princess caused the pilot to slumped down and buried his head to his knees. Memories from that helicopter crashing were coming back to haunt him. Jake remembered hearing Yurika screaming Quinn’s name in desperation before ended up slipping out of the helicopter and clinging onto the landing ski for her dear life. Jake didn’t hesitate to abandon the control of the copter, despite Estela, Sean, and Craig cussing at him for doing so just so he can grab the young woman to safety. Unfortunately, fate had other ideas. As soon as their hands slightly touched each other, Yurika’s other hand slipped from the ski and she fell and crashed into the ocean, much to the pilot’s despair.

That was the last straw for him. Jake lost another person close to him, yet again. He lost Mike. He was forced to abandon his mother and his sister. Lost his plane. And now, he lost the love of his life. The one who can keep up with his recklessness and sarcastic banter. The one who continues to impress him with her leadership and quick-intelligent skills. The one who chooses to always be by his side to comfort him, despite his attempts to push her away. The one who revealed her love to him at the campsite on the snowy mountains after he did the same to her. And now...she’s gone. Just a slip away from his fingers.

Estela glanced at the pilot and noticed a familiar dead look on his face. It was the same look she bored when she found out that her mother was killed and it took her couple of days before she finally broke into tears after locking herself in her room. Estela knew what it was like to lose someone important to them, and Jake’s situation was no different. She knew how much Yurika meant to him...to everyone...to Estela herself especially since she always admired Yurika’s honesty and the way she handles the dangerous situation despite not being a skilled fighter herself. It was hard for all of them to handle the fact that she was gone.

The skilled assassin walked up to the crestfallen pilot and silently next to him, letting her presence at the very least calmed him down. It was the same method that her uncle used when he found Estela curled up into a ball and crying from her mother’s death. Funny thing is that neither of them is the kind of people who show affections, yet they’re attempting to comfort another people by sitting next to them and remaining silent, which works sometimes. The young brunette wasn’t sure if it’s going to work on the pilot, but at the very least she was attempting to do so.

As she does that, Estela looked up to the sky and noticed a column of smoke rising from the tip of the volcanic island realizing that their time on the island was far from over.

#playchoices #choices stories you play #endless summer #endless summer 2 #mc #diego ricardo ortiz soto #raj bhandarkar #michelle thuy nguyen #zahra namazi #craig hsiao #sean gayle #quinn erin kelly #jake mckenzie #estela montoya #rourke #aftermath #separation #fanfic

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cyanoscarlet · 7 years

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Progress Notes 1/?: Some Ground Rules

26 days, 1 Neuro-Psych rotation and ¾ Derma rotation later, I finally found time to wind down and write about stuff. (Red status happened, and I’ve never been this glad to catch a break.)

Some things I’d learned in here so far:

You never question the “noodle theory”, ever. It is said that eating noodles during a hospital shift will make everything become really hectic. (In Filipino colloquial, we are fond of using the word “toxic,” and for very good reason.) On our last 24-hour shift under Neuro-Psych, the group decided to order two whole bilao of spaghetti and palabok, among other dishes. On top of the usual rounds and errands, one patient expired, another had to be revived, and we had to receive three ER referrals for neurological assessment - all before the food arrived. We ate dinner pretty late that night, and things actually haven’t quieted down yet that time. Even now I haven’t dared eaten anything with noodles, which is really a shame, given how much I love pasta dishes.

(Conversely, the flip version of this superstition states that eating ice cream will make the hospital shift a “benign” one - not much work, not much happenings, like a slow-growing tumor that knows its limits. This isn’t always true.)

You are the second-lowest form of animal in the hospital hierarchy. (Yes, that exists, and it sucks). Apparently it seems that the residents (especially the first-years) are considered even lower. Technically and strictly speaking, they are higher than us in rank (and we do genuinely respect our seniors!), but when it comes to rounds and conferences, the consultants tend to pick on the residents as badly as they do the clerks, sometimes even worse. I don’t know how it is in other institutions and services, but it seems to be that way in my first rotation, at least. It is still true that us clerks are the ultimate gofers in the hospital, though. Personally, I don’t really mind, since I like talking to patients and learning from charts and not sleeping and walking a lot.

You learn to accept everything (and I mean everything) because there is nothing you can do anyway. True for getting scolded at every turn, for accepting the blame for things you are not even responsible for, for picking up the slack and covering for the others’ shortcomings, among other things. Some of these have happened to me, others I have merely observed and heard from the IV grapevine. I’ve never said as much thank-yous and sorrys in my entire life as I do now. Not that I’ve never used them generously ever since, but system and custom seem to dictate that I bow my head even lower than necessary just because. Or, I might be the only one bad at standing my ground.

Friendships will be broken - and not just in the “you will know who your true friends are” sense. There will be misunderstandings, there will be arguments, there will be full-blown wars, even among the closest of relationships. This we have been warned of - clerkship does things to everyone, no exceptions. It hasn’t happened to me personally yet, and for my own sanity, I hope it never does.

What sleep? (Needs no explanation. Also, what self-care?)

You do not lose weight in clerkship. Or, generally, the humongous amount of food and coffee we inhale is evened out by the seemingly-endless amount of work we do, but ultimately it depends on the individual, I guess.

Life is finite. A universal truth, made even more true and more heartbreaking as I see how it slips away from our grasp. Some go quiet in the night, some go through extreme suffering before they flatline. I have reflected on it so many times, but I have yet to fully understand the mystery of it all. Yet with this I have gained much more appreciation for health, for life, for what we do.

You will learn to appreciate the simplest, tiniest things in life. Every wink of sleep, every drop of coffee, every crooked smile, every small gesture, every laugh, every tear, every heartbeat. It’s proof that we grow, that we live. And that in itself is a beautiful thing.

In just barely a month alone, I have gone through extreme highs and lows, smiled a lot, cried even more, ate way more junk food than usual, slept way less than I should. My seven-day week has become a three-day cycle of “pre-duty-from.” From living by my plans in college, to surviving by the week in med school, I now subsist by the day or by the shift in clerkship. I nod my head during conferences, but not everything I understand (yet). I over-present some of my cases, bullshit my way through others. I have met many doctors, some great, some terrible, some in-between, and I realize how much I still do not know, even after three years of medical school (and four years of premed before that). It both excites and scares me terribly to know how much room there still is to grow. Maybe I’ll find out tomorrow. Maybe next time, maybe never. But like always, we’ll see.

One month (almost) down, eleven to go!

#cyanospeaks #road to md #clerkship365

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thrashermaxey · 6 years

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On This Day Last Year I Received a Stem-Cell Transplant

An update, one year later, on the health and recovery of the founder Darryl "Dobber" Dobbs from MDS/AML.

On August 30, 2017, one year ago today, I received stem cells from a world donor who was found to be a perfect match. Finding a perfect match was extremely fortunate as many people have to settle for half-matches or worse, which decreases the likelihood of successful grafting in your body. In May, 2017, I had been diagnosed with Myelodysplastic Syndrome (MDS), which is a cancer of the bone marrow, and after a month of “lighter” chemo treatments it had expedited to AML (leukemia) and I had to be admitted to hospital.

Today is a day for celebration and a day for reflection. I celebrate because the hard part is over and I have come out of it happy and healthy. I reflect because I honestly haven’t done so. As soon as I left the hospital I put it behind me. I’d think about or discuss it as “that time I was in the hospital” but my mind would gloss over and ignore what went on in there and all the things I went through. Like a locked compartment in my brain. To think about it just causes me to tear up so the easy solution is to not think about it.

Last year I told everyone that when (not if) I made it to one year post-transplant, I would disclose the survival rate that my hematology doctor gave me. Before I could sign off on receiving the stem cell transplant, I had to acknowledge that I was given the three-year survival rate of a man in my age group with my symptoms that were given the same stem cell transplant. So here I am and here it is. It was 40%. I was given that number and then had papers put in front of me that I needed to sign before they would make preparations. Forty percent three-year survival rate after this transplant. And I signed it because non-treatment would mean certain death, likely within a year. It was too late to seriously consider homeopathic or other solutions (I had already jumped on those, as I’m a big believer in trying everything if it can’t make things worse).

So then I was admitted to hospital in July for nearly four weeks. To start off – I had a Hickman line put in my chest. This is a tube that leads to a main ventricle going to my heart. This way, instead of getting 100 needles per day, they can hook it up to me directly. I actually got my stem cells through this tube. The tube remained hanging from my chest until New Year’s Eve.

Most of the chemo happened in the first week. But it was a rough chemo – the kind you hear about with the vomiting, etc. But I was one of the stronger patients who could actually get back to eating after a few days. I was a picky eater with what I could (or wanted to) hold down, but I have family who supported me and ran around the city getting whatever I asked for. On August 19 I was released from hospital for five days, but on the 19th I had been given a lumbar puncture for spinal fluid and it resulted in a massive neck ache for three of those five days, kind of sucking the fun out of my brief home time. But I did what I could to spend time with my kids because the next phase meant that I couldn’t see them.

I was back in the hospital on August 24, after a “last dinner” with the wife and kids at a restaurant. Then it was a different chemo per day on the 25th – 28th. After that, on the 29th, was full radiation. This killed everything in my marrow both good and cancerous, and left me with zero immunity. And on August 30 I was reborn. With no immunity to fight these “invading” stem cells, the hope was that it would be accepted into my body and that within two weeks it would become new marrow and start creating healthy blood (picture of the donated stem cells on the right). This was helped along by different doses of different chemos, just making sure that none of my body’s defenses would fight or hinder the process. I actually maintained a decent appetite, one of the better cases for sure. Although around Day 10 I had sores in my mouth that everyone gets from one of the chemos or the radiation (I forget which) that forced me to eat pretty much through a straw. But this only lasted four days (most people this can last a week to 10 days so again – lucky).

I had a little exercise bike and was also encouraged to walk around the isolated ward (with a mask). I was able to go once around by Day 10, and then each day I would try to add to that – twice, three times, etc. My entire time in the hospital the nurses (one and all – amazing amazing amazing people and unbelievably patient and helpful and how can they stay so cheerful? Wow) took my vitals every two hours (every hour the first while after the transplant), even overnight. I remember over two dozen blood transfusions. I remember working on the Fantasy Guide here and there on the laptop when I was able, but had relied on my team for updates and helping out with the many customer issues that cropped up – specifically Mario Prata, Mike Clifford, Ian Gooding, Neil Parker, Mike Hiridjee, Cam Robinson and Riasat Al Jamil. I remember having to drag the damn IV pole around on my walks, or into the bathroom. I remember binge-watching Justified, and all the Mission Impossible movies, and watching Suits and Ozark when my wife visited. And Family Guy. I remember the KFC Zinger, Dominos pizza, and McDonalds nuggets – cravings of things during times when the stomach was delicate, and these greasy items actually worked!

On September 19 I was released from hospital. Possibly in record time, but certainly close to it. But on September 18 the isolation order was lifted and you know what I did? I had my wife bring the kids. At the time I had just found out that I was probably going to be released the next day and would see the kids anyway, but I hadn’t seen them in a few weeks and I wasn’t going to wait another day. We just hung out in the visitor’s room and played a couple of games, ate ice cream and then we all gathered to work on a big puzzle as a family. I remember on the rooftop patio raising my six-year-old Mackenzie to see over the rail down below – and I remember not having the strength to similarly lift my eight-year-old Avery to do the same (a reminder of how weak I was).

The next day I did indeed get released. I would never forget the hugs the kids gave me when they got off the bus that afternoon. I remember trying so hard to get home in time to do that and just making it by mere minutes.

From that point I would go to Princess Margaret for twice weekly checkups. My immunity was like that of a newborn so I needed to sterilize a lot and avoid crowds. Getting sick could mean breaking the graft and losing my donor’s cells, which would mean either starting all over again or dying. I was able to sit at the computer for as long as an hour. I tried working out right away, starting with 20 sit-ups and 10 minutes on the treadmill. I remember my stomach muscles killing me the next day so after learning that lesson, I started with five sit-ups and five minutes on the treadmill! And then I would add one sit-up each day and one minute on the treadmill each week.

But then I had a setback. The Epstein-Barr Virus is a virus that everyone has and easily fights it off. But I got it in November and couldn’t fight it. I was exhausted all day, couldn’t do any work and would miss workouts after I had built them up to 40 sit-ups and 15 minutes on the treadmill. So I was given a form of chemo every Friday for three weeks until it was gone. That was it for the setbacks. In mid-December I was back working out, had regained 10 pounds (I had lost 25) but still had no hair. By February I was down to every two weeks for hospital checks, and by March I was doing full workouts and at monthly hospital checks (where I am at today). And my hair returned (“hair” being a relative term for this bald guy – haha).

Today I can go to the movies. I still need to avoid crowds when I can and getting sick is still not a good idea, of course. But I’m out of the red zone and into more of a yellow zone. I feel good and have no restrictions in terms of my abilities. Today I savor more in life, show more patience, and hug my children even more than before.

I can also, if the donor is willing, discover the name and location of the person who saved my life. And I will be thanking that person will all my heart.

I also want to thank Mario, Mike, Mike, Ian and Riasat for making things so much easier for me. I don’t think the readers even noticed a difference in terms of the websites and fantasy guide, and many didn’t even know I was sick – that’s how seamless they made everything.

A big thank you to my wife, who was steadfast by my side, and took care of everything at the house with the kids at the same time. And who made me meals to whatever I could handle, or bought them for me if that was what it took. My parents and sisters. My sister-in-law who worked near PMH and so she came to see me every day and also ran around buying whatever craving I had. (I remember she once took me up to the rooftop patio to eat food that I requested and she bought. I remember fainting there and she had to round up help and get me into a wheelchair and wheel me back to my room for another transfusion. Good times.)

And finally, I want to thank my friends and my readers, often one and the same. Your positive messages on social media and on my website had an unbelievable impact, often making me tear up with hope. Throughout my hospital stay I would go back and read them, drawing inspiration from the ones who have gone through similar or know somebody who has. And instead of sales suffering because I wasn’t there to market my Guide or oversee everything – sales actually increased as readers rushed to support me. You kept visiting the site even though at the time I wasn’t writing or contributing to it. So financially, my family was still taken care of and not having that worry was tremendous. And that was thanks to your effort as a group.

Here’s to continued positive news over the next year and beyond. Feeling lucky and blessed.

from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-home/the-dobotomy/on-this-day-last-year-i-received-a-stem-cell-transplant/

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