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engeorged · 1 year

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Aster's Maze

Follow up to Obi's Place and Santa’s Otto

Art by @badoobers

Words by @engeorged

I know it’s been over a year since I posted, but it’s been quite a journey for me. One I’m not even sure if I’m ready to talk about. The encounter with Obi changed me somehow and I’m not the same person I was. I can’t quite seem to settle anywhere for very long any more. I feel restless, and to be blunt, like I’m not quite fully present wherever I am. My mind is always in a different place?

Let me go right back. By now, you’ve probably read about my encounter at Obi’s place. I’m not gonna lie, I was a wreck for a few days. It was like a hangover meets a sausage casing? The amount of food he’d packed in me took days to digest. I was swollen for 72 hours, not really able to do anything but sleep and go to the toilet. (I’ll spare you the details although I’m aware a few of you out there will want them you dirty bastards!!) I didn’t check my messages the whole time but after my last post, a lot of you had reached out to me. Turns out there’s quite a few of these guys around and they don’t fuck about! The pictures you all sent me were quite eye opening! (That's maybe for another post!)

The whole thing felt like a dream, but on reflection I realised it was a pretty good dream. I hate to admit it, but being able to eat that much food was quite a turn on. I tried for months to find him again and ask what he did to me. I’ve not been able to repeat it by myself, and trust me, I’ve tried. I can’t really even eat half of what he put into me. Every few weeks I would sit down in a restaurant or a buffet place and just block the afternoon out and eat as much as I could to see what would happen. Now I’m a big guy (and getting bigger!) and I could probably out eat most people if it came down to it but there’s just no way I can get as full as I did that morning. My belly is definitely increasing in size and capacity but still, without whatever magic he was using I can’t do it again.

To cut a long story short, I ended up travelling. The few stories you sent me (that weren’t totally nuts) were fascinating, but from all over the world. I’ve been searching for trolls in Norway, piscies in the UK, dragons in china, tikoloshes in Africa. Nothing! Not a single bite. I was starting to believe that maybe it was a hallucination from being so over tired. Maybe the stripes on the road had hypnotised me as I drove or something.

I’m currently living in Greece for a bit. I’ve pretty much run out and so I found a casual labour job on a building site in Greece. It’s a bit of a shit show to be honest, but all I have to do is turn up and lay bricks for a few hours in the afternoon and I get paid! The extra bit of timber I’d put on means I break a sweat the second I get up, as even though it’s early autumn, here it’s still 24 degrees by midday!

It was coming up to lunch time on the site when I started feeling a bit faint. I realised I’d not had anything to drink for a few hours and I was super dehydrated. I grabbed my water bottle and when lifted to my lips, only a few drips came out, so I had a scan of the area and saw a guy with a cart selling gyros and beers. Usually the street food was pretty good around here so I headed over, still wearing my tight high viz vest. As I got close to the stand I started to realise how hot the guy was selling them, now I’m newly ‘out’ and so I don’t still fully know what my type is but I can tell you reader, this guy was everyone’s type. He was stacked, his arms were like ripe watermelons and as I got close I realised how huge he was. I’ve told you I’m 6’5, but this guy towered over me. He must have been 7 feet easily. His hair was everywhere and he had this crazy medallion around his neck with a symbol on it I recognised from somewhere.

Now, I know my story has ended up on some niche websites and blogs, so I know what you pervs are all waiting for. So here it is. His gut was potentially the hottest thing I have ever seen. It was huge. He was so tall it was practically oval. Firm and round and pushing against the buttons in his shirt. It was like he wasn’t even tempted to hide it. In fact, as I approached, he lifted his arms above his head to stretch which meant that there was a good three or four inches of furry dome poking out from underneath. He looked as stuffed as I was at Obi’s. As I got nearer I started to regret my decision to go over. I must have looked like an absolute state. I was wearing my battered work jeans and fluorescent jacket, covered in brick dust and sweat and I absolutely stank. A 280 lbs slab of man like me working in 30 degree heat is a recipe for funk, and I was dripping with it. He looked up and saw me so there was no going back, I committed and walked up trying to look cool. Something about him made me want to melt into a puddle. I said ‘Yasass’ in my best Greek accent and he replied with a bass filled ‘Hello, how can I help you’ in perfect English. His accent was vaguely British with a hint of Greek overlayed. The rumble of his voice made something shift inside me. I think I was in love.

I ordered two beers and paid him. Lifting it to my lips, thirst took over and downed one on the spot. I didn’t really want to leave, I wanted to try and get his number or something. I downed the second beer and I could see it must have impressed him as he leant forward in his cart and offered me another. I ordered two and offered him one which he took. We stood chatting about the weather and what I was up to and as we chatted he started putting together a huge gyro full of amazing smelling meat. There was a hint of salad at the bottom but the thing was packed as tight as his shirt. He wrapped it up with his strong hands and offered it to me. I took it immediately and took a big bite, within minutes the thing had gone. It was the best tasting thing I’d ever had. When I finished I realised he’d just been watching me eat it, not saying anything. His dark eyes focussed on me making me feel very seen. He had very keen eyes that looked deep into my soul. (I know how pretentious that sounds, don't worry, but you’ll see I’m right in a minute!)

I jokingly said I could eat another one and before I’d finished my sentence he had one there in his large paw! I won’t bore you with the details because there will be a lot more later but suffice to say I ate 3 of his huge gyros. I was substantially full, my own belly was beginning to push out against my work clothes and I’m pretty sure I lost a button I offered to pay but he wouldn’t take it. He just said he’d see me again. I went back to work on the site very full and very horny!

I stopped by for lunch every day for the next week and a half. In the evenings I discovered he owned a small but very cool restaurant bar selling the same food but with the addition of a whole selection of spirits and cocktails. It was a full two weeks before I plucked up the courage to ask him out. There was just something about him that drew me in. Reflecting back I don’t know if we actually spoke about much. Even now I know very little about him. All I remember is his huge belly, round and tight, every day staring at me. Perfection in a fursuit. I remember that he had a few piercings. The medallion round his neck had chains coming off it connecting to nipple piercings. He also had a heavy gold nose ring, which, if I wasn’t thinking with my dick, might have been a bit of a clue. I was looking out for whatever Obi was, not whatever he was. And is, I guess?

On reflection, and with what I know now, he was strategically increasing my already substantial belly capacity for the game. (More on that later) Every meal, he would give me a little bit more food. A bag of stuffed vine leaves here, some baklava there, extra meat in the wrap, a special sauce, larger wraps. Before I knew it I was eating 6 of his gyros twice a day with whatever accompaniments he palmed off on me that day. Every evening I would spend bloated and swollen, nursing my aching stomach whilst thinking of Aster. (Oh I forgot, one thing I did get out of him was his name) I guess I should add that I didn’t twig what was happening in case that’s not obvious. I was bewitched by everything about him to the point where I didn’t realise he was testing me out for something much bigger.

A few weeks in I had a penny drop moment, I’d just finished my 6th evening gyro and he was making me one more to finish me off. My belly was huge, packed with the supply of food he’d been encouraging me to eat. I was wearing a now painted-on shirt and I was standing in the street at 5pm obediently stuffing myself silly with his street food. I’d gone past full a few gyros ago and it was now simply pushing and stretching my stomach more and more. The feeling of the stretch (as some of you probably know) is exquisite. I’d experienced it fully with Obi and I’d been chasing that feeling all over the world to get to that place of total engorged capacity and it dawned on me suddenly I was there again. Something about that day made me realise I'd met another one of these creatures. Aster wasn’t human.

I swallowed down my last bite and took the next one from his massive hairy hand. I looked at him properly for maybe the first time. Looking past my own lust and attraction and I saw that he wasn’t quite ‘right’. His hair was shaped in such a way that hair didn’t really grow. His side burns were much more than a side beard and that ring in his nose was huge because his nose was so large and flat. And his belly! No human belly would ever be that size and rounded shape when it was that big. It would be sagging down over his belt, not sitting proudly on top of it defying gravity. I started eating the food he’d made me and asked him outright. ‘Who are you?’ He looked me in the eye and said with a slightly crooked grin ‘Obi said you could eat.’

I stood back aghast. He was one of them. I had so many questions. But before I could ask any of them he started packing up his cart. I found myself rooted to the spot while he packed away. I literally couldn’t move. As he grabbed the handles he turned to me and put his large hand on top of my distended stomach and winked. And that’s when I saw it. The little purple twinkle in his eye. With that, he was gone and I was finally able to move. The fullness I was not noticing yet hit me and I nearly sat down on the pavement where I stood but I managed to pull myself together and make it back to the site where I did very little work. He’d fed me as much as Obi had done but without me noticing. And I let him!

I could hardly wait for opening time at the restaurant that evening. Still full from lunch, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to ask him out or just demand some answers. When I saw him behind the bar, cleaning a glass with a tea towel I knew what I wanted. I marched right up to the counter but before I had a chance to speak he pulled out a single purple rose which he handed me. As I looked at him in the low light, I realised all his confidence had fallen away and he was genuinely a little nervous. Turns out he’d fallen for me too. He ended up asking me on a date. Who knew a 7 foot tall Minotaur would be such a hopeless romantic. (Yeah I just dropped that in. I didn’t know how else to say it really! It is what it is?) He told me that he finished around midnight but that he had somewhere he wanted to take me and would that be alright. I agreed, obviously! And parked myself on a table by the window to wait for him.

Even though the restaurant was pretty busy, he found time to be quite attentive. Every hour he brought me another rose and a plate of something to eat. By the time it was midnight I had a vase full of flowers and a belly full of Greek food! Bear in mind I was stuffed from lunch and I arrived at the restaurant at 6. So do the math to work out how full I currently am. That’s important for the rest of the story! As the final customers left I watched as he whipped round the place lifting the chairs and sweeping up as fast as he could. It was kind of cute to see how keen he was. When it was all done he explained to me that he wanted to take me somewhere that was special to him, somewhere he thought I would enjoy. He looked a little sheepish but I agreed. We walked through town (slowly I might add, I was basically round at this point) as he held my hand. Not many people can make me feel small but walking around holding this giant's hand was quite humbling. At this point I think my belly was bigger than his but he was still over half a foot taller than me. Being near him calmed my stomach too. It was like I was just pleasantly full when I was near him, not dangerously packed to bursting. We chatted a little bit but we mainly walked in silence, happy in each other's company.

We arrived at a sort of park on the edge of town. There were a few ruins we walked past but we ended up at the edge of what looked like a small cave. In any other setting I would have run a mile but he has been so tender with me I just felt super safe. In the moonlight, at the edge of the cave we stood looking into each other's eyes. He slowly leant in to kiss me and I let him. As he leant back I felt myself rooted to the spot again unable to move. He started walking backwards into the cave and as the dark consumed him he winked again and beckoned me to follow him. After a minute the effects of whatever it was wore off and I was able to slowly walk into the cave. After a few steps I discovered that it was lit all along by torches and it started to become more of a corridor. There was no sign of Aster but I carried on into the maze. As I walked I felt a little rumble in my stomach. I brushed it off as just digestion starting and kept going. After a few turns it saw a few petals in the ground. The massive softie had left me a trail to follow.

Eventually, I came across a small recess in the wall with a little table set into it and a candle. I sat down on one of the chairs and Aster emerged from out of the darkness with two heavy cloched plates. He sat down and put the plates in front of us. He pulled the cloches off to reveal a sizeable plate of oysters. I smiled and he smiled back. I found myself inexplicably hungry and went to take my first one, but he leant over and stopped me. He picked up a large oyster and lifted it to my lips. I smiled and opened my mouth and titled my head back. If I’m totally honest I’ve never eaten oysters before but I’d seen it in films. I knew I was supposed to swallow them whole so fortunately I didn’t make a tit of myself. I don’t know if you’ve had them before but I’m not gonna lie, they taste good but they are like swallowing snot! Being fed them was hot though! Knowing I had the full attention of this slab of man was really doing it for me! He fed me a few and then sat back and I did the same for him! Watching his heavy Adam's Apple bob up and down as he swallowed was a surprising new kink I discovered in that cave!

Suffice to say, it was like time worked differently in that cave. We’d only been there a few minutes and there were a fair few oysters on each of our plates. Maybe 3 dozen each? They didn’t really take long to eat but it felt like we were there for hours. I wasn’t counting the oysters but by the time we’d cleared the plates, my belly had advanced quite a way. Like way more than a few dozen oysters would have done. It was still tight and round but it was a lot bigger and heavier. It appeared that my tank top had ripped at the edges and so I just took it off. Even though we were underground it wasn’t cold so I was happy in just my jeans.

I looked at Aster and he had the biggest grin on his face. His own belly was beginning to blow out from our oyster binge. I could see even more of his substantial furry belly pushing out from his shirt. I wasn’t sure if he looked taller at that point? Everything about him was larger in some way and he was meatier and hairier too. (Yes every part of him was bigger. I won’t say more than that!) He was absentmindedly rubbing the underneath of his belly curve as he watched me readjust to my new bloated mass. His eyes were both kind and predatory at the same time. We stood there for a little while admiring one another until he winked and shimmered like Obi used to. With that he was gone and the chase was back on. I lumbered on further into the maze of tunnels, my swollen midsection slowing me down considerably. The path twisted and turned as I was led deeper in.

I couldn’t tell you how long it was until I found him. At first, I began to hear running water and so, for want of any other clues, I followed the noise. The walls of the maze were beginning to look less constructed by human hands and more cave-like, I guess? Stone bricks giving way to actual stone. I even thought I saw a few flashes of gemstones here and there but I was more interested in my next meal. Even though I must have eaten a week's worth of food so far, I was still inexplicably hungry. I don’t know if I can describe how it felt. My insides felt packed full. Like totally solid. There was very little give to my belly. And yet I knew I wanted more. Actually I needed more. The stretched feeling I have when I’m around these guys is something I’ve never experienced before.

Eventually, the water got louder and louder until I walked through a stone archway and found myself in a cavernous expanse. The sound of water turned out to be an underground waterfall, the water cascading down into a piercing blue lagoon. The ceiling was lit with some sort of glowing insects which were making a melodic rhythmic chirping sound. I searched around the expanse until I found him. He was sitting with his legs in the water next to a fire where he seemed to be grilling fish. It was the first time I’d seen his legs and they were indeed as you would imagine them to be. Covered in thick black hair. I couldn’t see his feet as they were in the water but I am guessing he didn’t have five toes at this point. It seemed that he was becoming more of his true self the closer we got to the centre. I made my way round and joined him sitting by the water. It was one of the most beautiful places I’d ever been. We sat there for a few moments in silence. Enjoying the beauty. I realised after a while that he was holding my hand. He turned his attention to the fire and pulled out a perfectly grilled fish which he placed next to himself and he began to break off pieces of the succulent meat and began feeding it to me. The fish melted in my mouth. It was so succulent and tender. I ate the whole thing quickly and he brought a second fish over and put his hands back on the floor as a signal for me to feed him. I obliged, tenderly placing it into his mouth. We did this for a while until all the fish he was cooking had gone. He leant forward and I thought he was going to kiss me again but instead he plunged his hand into the water and pulled out more fish. I’m no expert but I know one of them was a Salmon, and a pretty big one at that. And I think there was a rainbow trout and something else sort of blue? We carried on eating and cooking and eating and cooking for hours. The time weirdness means I have no idea how long we were there or how many I ate at this point, but looking at the both of us we were both much bigger. I don’t know if it’s part of the atmosphere or I genuinely ate that much but there it was. My own belly was enormous. Way bigger than I had been in the diner. His gut was spectacular. Round and hairy and now totally free from his shirt. Bear in mind he was nearly 8 feet at this point.

He reached over and tenderly began to massage my own swollen stomach. His hands, surprisingly gentle, but firm. I closed my eyes and relaxed and basically let him do what he wanted to me. All of my senses seemed to be heightened, every little touch was like a wave of ecstasy flowing across my skin. His smell was heady, strong and potent and filling my nostrils. Eventually, I realised he’d gone but I stayed there for a little while longer. Partly because it was so beautiful but also partly because I could hardly move.

I pulled myself to my feet, hauling my cantilevered belly up. It was still self supporting and jutting straight out from me into the air. I wished there was a mirror somewhere so I could have seen it properly. I saw an opening in the wall near the waterfall so I followed it through into a darker and more narrow part of the maze. The walls were closer than before and there were a few parts where I was worried I might not get through with my newly ballooned gut. After a while I started to smell the aromatic smell of cooking pork which made me instantly hungry again. I followed the smell and found three doors with a riddle written above it. I can’t remember the riddle but it was something about liars and guessing the way. You can probably guess that I’m not the smartest guy, I’m not dumb, but when it comes to stuff like riddles I’m out. My belly was rumbling loud at this point too so I was distracted. I decided to just listen at each of the doors. Door one I could hear a whistling noise which I reckoned was some sort of drop. Door two was a distinct growling snore. Although Aster was super stuffed I was pretty sure it wasn’t him asleep, and having met some of these guys I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a cute teddy bear behind there! I approached door three and had a listen. I could just about hear a sizzling sound and with the smell of pork I couldn’t handle it so I threw the door open. I wasn’t disappointed!

The room was a small stone cell with a fire pit sunk in the bottom. On top of it was a decently sized pig on a spit. I couldn’t see Aster so I stepped in gingerly. The door closed behind me and as I turned it dissolved into the wall. There was no way out. I stepped into the room and looked into the shadows at the edges. And there he was, taller than ever. As he stepped out into the light of the fire I could see he’d changed more. The first thing I noticed were the horns that had now sprouted from the top of his head. They weren’t massive but they were slightly curved and protruding from his thicker hair. The hair wasn’t just thicker on his head either. He’d now taken off his shirt and I could see the extent of it. He was pretty much covered in thick black hair all over his arms and sides. Virtually the only skin visible was across his bloated sphere of a belly. And that had a decent covering all along the bottom of the curve stretching up to a thick happy trail that snaked up to his hairy pierced pecs. The thick gold chain connects to his medallion.

He spoke with a deep gravelly voice that I could literally feel in my feet. He told me under no circumstances was there to be any pork left before we left this place. Under any other situation I would have laughed. The pig had to be 200 lbs of meat. That would literally have taken any normal person a few weeks to eat. But here, with him, I knew right there that we would do it. I was apprehensive to think about how much my stomach would distend after that but I knew that whatever this place was it would be ok. I walked up to him and put my hands firmly on the sides of his thick belly and looked up. He looked down at me and bent his head to kiss me on the lips again. I smiled and sighed with contentment. Something special was about to happen.

He pulled back and handed me a sharp knife, and took out one of his own and cut a slab of meat. The juices were rubbing down his arm. He pulled off the crackling and greedily began to eat it, crunching and swallowing it down. He offered me the meat and I eagerly opened my mouth to receive it. It tasted even better than it smelt and within minutes the whole slab had disappeared into me. We continued to feed one another the pork for a while, taking it in turns to slice off large chunks of flesh and sharing the delicious meat. We were soon covered in the stuff, our bellies continuing their rapid expansions. As we progressed, instead of slowing down we began to speed up. We even abandoned the knives and took to simply ripping off our next portions and guzzling down our haul. He fed me and I fed him and we ate ourselves. The boundaries of reality slipped away as we gorged on the meal together. (Yes I know that sounded a bit twatty but that’s how it felt. How many pigs have you shared with a fucking Minotaur?)

We didn’t take any breaks in our gluttony, the pig simply ended up inside both of us. I’d guess Aster ate more, simply because he is a good few feet taller than me but I didn’t notice him actually eating more. By the time the pig was reduced to bones we were both insanely swollen. My own gut was packed so big I couldn’t see anything else when I looked down. The skin tightly stretched over the vast quality of food it held inside itself. If I thought for a second about how much food I contained I’m not sure my brain could handle it. I looked like someone had slipped an air compressor up my arse and turned it on for a good half an hour. Physics had to be different in there because there was no way I’d have been able to stand up without some supernatural help. Looking at Aster, he was the same. Comically swollen, his huge abdomen surrounded by a sea of hair. The only difference between us is that you could still see some of his muscle definition. The power and strength he contained was tangible when you looked at his animal-like frame.

Covered in grease and bits of food we sat back admiring each other's new size. I wanna keep the story a touch modest, but he was clearly aroused by our efforts. I won’t go into details because I never kiss and tell, but fuck me he was a big boy! I’m glad there was magic in the site because after what we did next I could have ended up in hospital!

After we had, erm, cuddled, we lay back with our heads next to one another. Our engorged stomachs stuck high into the air, solid and packed with food, unyielding in their size and volume. We stayed for a period of time and chatted about our lives. Aster clearly wasn’t wanting this to be a one off encounter. He was surprisingly affectionate and romantic for a half man half bull. He wanted to know all about me and my life and what my plans for the future were. It was such a tender moment I could have stayed there forever but Aster had one more plan up his sleeve. He pulled himself up easily and offered me a hand to help me up. I just about managed to get to my feet, helped by his superhuman strength I assume! Kissing me again he led me by the hand into the shadows where we found a new door. Fortunately, it was a double door as neither of us would have fit through anything smaller at this stage. We walked into a vast cavernous space. I didn’t think it was possible but it was even more beautiful than the underwater lagoon where we ate the fish. The glowing insects were back and this time other glowing creatures joined them. Small colourful lizards darted from rock to rock making patterns in the water that filled half the floor. Several smaller waterfalls fed this one, each framed by cascades of glowing plants with brightly shining flowers falling down. Alongside the water was a long banqueting table covered with food. There were golden bowls and plates full of oversized fruits and bread. Huge slabs of roasted meats and wheels of cheese. At the end there appeared a large ornately decorated cornucopia which seemed to be the source of the food. Aster led me to the table and sat us both down in large oversized thrones. We’d made it to the centre of the labyrinth!

As we sat down, our swollen bellies resting on our legs I realised he had plans to carry on eating. Whatever magic was present meant I definitely felt hungry but there was no way I could physically move to get the food. I was practically pinned down underneath the sheer ridiculous size of my own belly. I was about to say this to Aster when I heard something move in the water. I looked across to see six men emerge from the water. I say men, we both know they weren’t that. If I had to guess I would say they were some sort of water nymphs? They had a pale bluey green tinge to their skin which had a faint shimmer to it as well. They were lithe and incredibly beautiful, their muscles and sinews visible underneath their skin. Their tight shorts left very little to the imagination and their eyes looked as hungry as I felt. They were here to feed us.

I don’t know whether we were there for a few days or weeks or months. The food from the cornucopia kept coming and we kept eating. Non stop gorging, all enabled by the blue dudes. Their dexterous long fingers feeding us food and massaging our swelling bellies. We both ended up the size of trucks, our inhumanly swollen bellies stretching way past what was physically or morally possible.

At some point we were done and we were pushed or rolled to the edge of the water. I slipped in and sank heavily to the bottom. Whether I was magically able to breathe underwater or whether I somehow didn’t need to breathe, I’m not sure, but Aster and I were able to move freely under the water. We swam for a while through caverns and caves, snaking away from the maze. When we surfaced we found ourselves on a small island just off the coast of the town. Away from the magical influence of the labyrinth, Aster was back to his more human form and his belly was vastly reduced but still clearly swollen. I was the same, my belly was huge, but it at least was obeying the laws of physics. Again, I don’t want to make the story any more r-rated than it needs to be so let’s say we spent some time with each other there. We needed some time to digest and recover as well.

Friends, I don’t know whether what happened was a dream or some sort of vision, but I do know I’ve gained 50lbs in a few days. I have a very definite and prominent ball belly now, which I’m not unhappy about. I also have a new boyfriend. Unlike Obi, Aster was happy to stick around, so I do know that something happened. I don’t really want to ask too many questions from Aster because I don’t really mind if it was real or not. I know he’s here and I know we ate a shit ton of food and I know he’s not going anywhere

#belly expansion #gainer fiction #gay gainer #stuffing #belly fiction #gainer stories #male gaining #stuffing art #gainer artwork #gainer story

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awesomesaurous · 10 months

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-rant, please excuse the salt-

I really wish Don’t Starve Together was a different genre of game. I know that’s stupid because the objective “Don’t Starve” is the whole foundation of it, but I kind of just wish I could take the look and the loose story and make it more of an adventure and less of a never-ending survival game. I think in the Hamlet DLC for the base game, the “town” aspects of it scratched that itch a little bit, but I want more. The interface could even look exactly the same. I played the demo of Cult of the Lamb, and that game has a similar top-down 2D look to Don’t Starve, except there are in-game “cutscenes” and you have dialogue options which advance the creepy little narrative. Hollow Knight was good with this too. It’s a metroidvania, so there’s no crafting at all (I don’t consider status upgrades to be crafting), but like most RPGs with a silent protagonist, the story is furthered through exploration and interaction with NPCs. Some people love survival games, and I enjoy them quite a bit, but I like them to have an endpoint. The Flame in the Flood has a brutal difficulty curve, but it does reward you for your persistence, and it’s by no means impossible to beat. The journey takes you further and further along a river which at first seems endless - but it does have an end, and that’s what I want, I guess. Closure.

Hades is one of the most enjoyable games I’ve ever played, and the main reason was how much you are rewarded, even for failed attempts. You might totally choke on a run, but even so, every time you venture out you’re gaining more darkness/gems/etc that you can invest back into your stats and weapons. As in - there is no wrong way to play the game, you will move forward and improve no matter what. I love that. DST has finally dipped into this territory with Wilson’s skill tree, but I think they ought to give every character a similar mechanic. The skills would be specific to each character, and I think would give players more of an incentive to do repeat runs. At a certain point the whole game gets boring, and depending on my mood I sometimes boot it up, think about all the trees I’m going to have to cut down, and then immediately close the game, because I’m sick of doing virtual chores.

Stardew Valley was so addictive for me that I had to delete the game to get control of my life back. That game is nothing but farming and chores, yet I didn’t get tired of it. I think that’s because if you want to, you can ignore any aspect of the game you don’t care for, and time will pass anyway. You can spend all your time farming, or just mining, or focus on relationships with NPCs. Obviously with Don’t Starve, you can’t ignore food because starvation is an ever-present threat.

I also don’t give a damn about boss fights. I never have, in any game. I’m always eager for them to be over so I can get back to actually enjoying the game again, but nope I have to hit this thing 1000 times without getting permanently killed. Don’t Starve’s fighting system is shit, and it always has been. The hit boxes suck, and the fact that I need to download mods just to see health levels for the enemy is ridiculous.

I’ve had a lot of fun with DST, but I think I enjoy the fandom stuff more than the actual game. Same with TF2. It’s pretty fun to play, but I enjoy watching SFM videos and stuff like that more than playing the actual game. Don’t Starve has such fun characters and such an appealing style that it draws people in, and the animated shorts promise this wider world and a more intriguing story that isn’t in the actual game. Most players won’t even get to the cryptic hints at the story that are in the actual game (the Ruins, etc) due to the difficulty curve.

There’s a lot of creative energy and highly imaginative world-building, but when are we going to see it put to use? If anybody has any thoughts on all this, feel free to leave a reply.

#game dev #just some thoughts #don't starve together #dst #don't starve #hades game #stardew valley #hollow knight #the flame in the flood #cult of the lamb #team fortress 2 #tf2

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whomadewaffles · 3 months

Text

Some pjhazel incorrect quotes I've been saving for awhile...I feel like with how starved for content shippers of these two are right now, keeping these to myself would be a crime. I'm SO sorry for not citing sources. I wasn’t originally planning to post these, and finding them retroactively is like.. impossible.

Pjhazel is the focus, but others are included as side characters. So if you don't ship them, then just scroll on by and go about your day, please!

Also, for a heads up that will apply to all 3 parts: expect bad language and sex references cos obviously.

Oh, and this is part 1 of 3, even if it is the longest part

Long post under the cut!

_______

Josie: You slept with Hazel? OUR Hazel? Callahan??

Pj: I didn't know what else to do! She had those big, sad eyes. I couldn't help it.

Josie: ...sure, sounds like you had no other choice.

--------

Pj: I love saying 'fuck me' because it can either be sexual or sarcastic and those are two things that describe me perfectly.

--------

Hazel, jumping out of pj's closet: BOO!

Pj:

Hazel:

Pj:

Hazel: *makes the patented Hazel callahan sad face*

Pj: Ahh! Oh my god! You scared me!

------

Hazel: TERRIBLE NEWS!

Pj: Did you disarm the bomb?

Hazel: If I disarmed it, would I come running in here and shout, TERRIBLE NEWS!?

------

Pj: hazel, you are such a nerdy little dork, you can't pull any girl.

Hazel * has been crushing on her since they met*: okay. that's fine.

*2 years later*

Hazel: so what did you say? Repeat that again.

Pj: 🤡

--------

Pj: It has come to my attention, that I have some unresolved feelings or resentment toward my father.

Therapist: a little late, but I’m happy you’ve taken this first step. Now you can start looking to overcome that.

Pj: Already done. I’ve found a full proof solution…I’m going to ignore it. Completely and utterly.

Pj: just like my dad did me.

--------

Pj: the secret to being impulsive successfully is being faster than the consequences of your actions. you can't let them catch you or its all over

Annie: is that why everytime Hazel even looks at you since you kissed her you run away like a little bitch?

-------

Pj *trying everything she can to kiss hazel again without just admitting she likes her like a normal healthy person*: Hey, are you aware that kissing reduces stress?

Hazel: Okay.

Pj:

Hazel:

Pj: Hey, you look stressed. Like, really stressed. Just wanted to let you know.

--------

Hazel: It’s not that I don’t trust pj, I just... don’t trust her impulse control

-------

Hazel: None of you might remember this, but there was a time when PJ considered herself out of my league.

Hazel: Oh, how the mighty have fallen (into my arms)

------

Hazel *trying to teach her girlfriend how to take better notes in class*: to make it easier, you should always highlight the important things

*later*

Annie: Hazel, why are you covered in different colored highlighter?

Hazel: don't ask

Pj: she's important! okay!?

-------

Hazel: I'm freaking out, How do I make our first date really romantic?

Stella-Rebecca: Be mysterious.

Hazel: Okay!

*later, while on a date with pj*

Pj: So where are we going?

Hazel: None of your fucking business.

Pj *is shocked and a little turned on* 😳

-------

Pj: Yeah, I lost the ability to give a shit at a very young age. It was a very tragic accident. Never recovered

------

Pj: *on the phone with josie* I can’t talk right now, I’m doing hot girl shit.

Josie: You’re pulling Oreos apart and shaving off the frosting to make a mega Oreo, aren’t you?

Pj: Maybe.

-----

Pj: I love you.

Hazel: I thought I annoyed you?

Pj: You do annoy me. You annoy me more than I ever thought possible, but I want to spend every irritating moment with you.

--------

Pj: Im tired

Hazel: You should come to the gym with me! We could make it a date and exercising gives you energy!

Pj: Yeah, the same energy you need to go to the gym

Pj: Sounds like a pyramid scheme to me

------

Pj *texting*: I'm showering

Hazel *texting back*: oh nice, send a pic of you're hair in a giant spike lmao!

--------

Pj: rest assured, rational me and impulsive me are having a fucking smackdown 24/7 100% of the time

-----

Hazel: Please, this is the 4th time its happened, I'm begging you go to a doctor.

Pj: I'm sorry is this OUR broken nose? Stay out of it.

------

Pj: I asked Hazel out.

Britney: Oh, I’m sorry.

Pj: Why?

Brittney: Well, I assume she said no.

Pj: No, she said yes.

Brittney: Really? Then I’m sorry for her.

-------

Pj: Shout out to my girlfriend who just randomly decided to eat my chapstick.

Hazel: WHY WOULD THEY MAKE IT COTTON-CANDY FLAVORED IF IT WASN'T MEANT TO BE EATEN?!

--------

Pj: You're annoying.

Hazel *in her head*: Enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst with happy ending, 300k+ words

------

Pj: I win

Hazel: I am literally pinning you down

Pj: I know

-----

Hazel: So sorry for making you fall in love with me because of my autistic swag and kissable lips.

--------

Pj: *Drinking a bottle of water*

Josie: Since when do you carry water? I've known you my whole life and you never do that.

Pj: Hazel freaked out ‘cause I told her I never drink water

Pj: Now she’s making me drink 8 glasses a day

Pj: It’s like, there’s water in soda, coffee, the little pools of water on pizza…

Isabel: …That’s grease

Pj: Well it’s wet isn’t it!

-------

Hazel: You're in love with me?

Pj: Unless you're not in love with me. Then I take it back, because, you know... I'm cool.

-------

Pj: You are an absolute fucking dork.

Hazel *singing*: Yeah, but I'm your dork!

Pj *happy sigh*: Yeah, you're my dork.

--------

Pj: I'm a very good liar.

Josie: Yesterday, I asked if you were missing hazel while she was gone, and you said "no" right before bursting into tears.

--------

#pjhazel #bottoms 2023 #pj bottoms #hazel callahan #incorrect quotes #hope you enjoy and hope this feels in-character for them!#us pjhazel shippers are starving so gotta help how I can!#part 2 will be posted tomorrow in the afternoon hopefully

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beautifulpersonpeach · 9 months

Note

Do we seriously think that other member fanbases have not posted about donations from China? The difference is that others have not had similar chart success as Jimin, especially in the US. I am not counting Seven here because how much ever the fandom wants to deny it, that song got everything a western artist song does, if not more. There is not much difference in their US streams for the same week considering Seven had double the versions and remixes. 16% of LC overall streams are coming from the US even after 5 months whereas it’s only 9% for Seven. We can see that Seven globally is being carried by asian countries where the number of Spotify users and the streams it is pulling is disproportionate. Even with all this BB is never going to call out Seven success because it has all the playlisting and radio which is what BB wants every artist to do. And who in this fandom is even ready to have this nuanced conversation. Because as soon as you point out all this you are immediately labelled an anti.

And so they were always going to make Jimin the scapegoat irrespective of anything. If not the fanbase funding then it would have been something else. But what I don’t understand is that you know all this and yet you threw shade at Jimin solos. There is this constant push by this fandom to portray Jimin solos as the worst. I’m not saying they are saints but all other member solos do the same shit and yet I see one being called out more than the other. And again if you point this out then you are labelled an anti. Because this fandom always throws Jimin under the bus to call out his solos. Anyways I know I am talking to the wall here because the standard response I see is that his solos are always victimising him or that you guys are in an echo chamber and we call out all solos. I am in enough OT7 spaces to know that is not true but no one would agree to this because then the question arises that maybe it has more to do with bias against Jimin than his solos.

***

You know, the best way to answer this is probably to pick this whole thing apart, line by line, to show for example where you’ve made fairly accurate observations but drawn the wrong conclusion, as solos and their diet versions and/or exiles typically do. Or to show where you’ve made observations that aren’t consistent with the facts as I know them but which also have carry-on effects to other observations you’ve made, and so on. That’s probably the best approach since I’m well aware these are the arguments and talking points in certain fandom spaces.

But we’ve been having this same conversation since March. It’s been six months of nonstop bullshit theories from PJMs, other solos, their enablers within ARMY, ARMY themselves, etc, and I’ve been writing about this the whole time as well, consistently repeating more or less the same things, noting the same misconceptions, reinforcing the same caution, etc, and now much of what I wrote turned out to be correct, but it seems to have entirely gone over your head in all that righteous indignation. I mean, just today, after reading an article like that, reading the ~5 posts I’ve pumped out on it only today, you still don’t get it. Your primary takeaway from this is that Jimin solos were singled out and shaded by me (and the fandom) and that this proves Jimin is possibly disproportionately hated by the fandom and we must all be hypocrites who don’t really care for him either way… You still can’t see beyond that singular point of view.

I’m tired lmao, and I really don’t see the point in continuing an exercise that’s already doomed to be futile if that ask is any indication. Since you already see this as you talking to a wall. I’m very comfortable with you thinking I’m a hypocrite or whatever else, and you having whatever conclusion you have about all this without me trying to persuade you. And anyway, like I said there’s no use crying over spilled milk. What’s done is done. Everyone who can glean whatever lessons they need to learn from this, will do that, and others won’t, which is probably why I’m nearly certain that when we have to do this all over again next year (or possibly later this year), we’ll have much of the same exact problems many of which will be caused by people who still don’t get it. I only hope at that point, that number will be fewer. That would make so much of our lives easier. If BigHit is actually efficient too and on the ball, then it would be even more so.

A couple more things:

1 - If you’re indeed staying in OT7 spaces Anon, then you’d know the focus has already shifted from all this BS, to preparing for PJM2 already, as well as the next releases (which of course currently take priority). PJM2 is what Jimin is focused on, and that’s what many of his fans/ARMY have shifted towards already - a shift that started in a few OT7 spaces since the third week of April after the screwed up Billboard changes, while most everyone else was coming up with every conspiracy theory in the book to explain how BigHit was secretly pulling the strings within Billboard to cause Billboard to shaft their own artist…

2 - A quick note I want to make on Western awards: By virtue of being a BTS member, Jimin’s chances were already slim. After that Billboard article they’re even slimmer, but he’s still got a chance. It might be an ice cube’s chance in hell, but it’s a chance nonetheless. And the hope I have is that he does get recognized.

Anyway, good luck Anon. You seem to be a bit familiar with my blog but I can’t say you’ve actually read my posts. Even if we clearly disagree I hope you’re working towards supporting his current and next releases, because that’s what I’m doing too. Anything else will make all of this entirely worthless.

#i’m tired #there’s only so many times one can write the same things #bts #jimin #bangtan #billboard #bang pd

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element-zero · 1 year

Note

Why do you dislike Cora? Not saying it's bad to do so, I've just seen a lot of tiring fandom shit around her (People saying stuff like "she talks about the Asari like a westerner fetishizing Japan" as like, their excuse to then go on and be really misogynistic) that burns me out of a lot of 'critique' of her. But you're smart and I like your readings so I'm curious for a more legitimate explanation that isn't just "because she's a bitch" as a lot of fans say.

Oh boy… I feel like no matter what I say there’s gonna be someone accusing me of misogyny anyway… but here goes.

(Keep in mind I’ve not yet completed the game, though. I’m basing this on my limited experience and what I’ve seen on YouTube. Maybe things drastically turn out different for her and I’ll suddenly like her by the end. Maybe I dislike her even more. I don’t know. We’ll see.)

One of your first interactions with her is her romanticizing earth’s early colonizers. “I always wondered what it was like when explorers crossed the ocean. Nothing but the stars and dead reckoning to guide them,” she says. I have such an extreme hatred of the western re-branding of those fuckers as “explorers,” as opposed to murderous-gold-thirsty-slaver-colonizers.

The way the game treats her biotics is very strange; like, 3/4ths of her entire personality is just “I’m a biotic”. Even other characters like Liam act as if this is something unique about her, despite others with biotics (like Ryder) standing right there. And when I say it eats up at her personality, I mean that as in it feels like she’s lacking in that department because of this choice. When you try to get to know her, more than half of her dialogue is just saying the same shit over and over again: “I was too powerful a biotic so I became an asari huntress. I never fit in anywhere.” Rinse and repeat.

One minute she’s supportive of Ryder being Pathfinder, and the next she’s acting like she’s the one in charge. This begins right away! Ryder wakes up and Lexi says they need to rest, Cora responds for them with “they’ve got two hours,” as if that’s her decision to make.

I really don’t like the way she talks with Peebee. Cora has these preconceived notions of how asari are all “meant” to be, and because Peebee doesn’t fit in that model, she openly dislikes her. Their banter is some of the worst and most uncomfortable in the game. For example:

Peebee: Serving with asari commandos doesn’t make you asari.

Cora: When did I say that?

Peebee: You sure act like it sometimes. It’s kinda funny. Just saying, don’t be that person, there’s nothing worse.

Cora: You’re wrong. Alien cultures need to learn from each other. Change. Grow.

Peebee: Here we go again.

Cora: Peebee, just so you know, I’m not stealing anyone’s culture. Fighting side by side with asari commandos changed the way I think. It was meant to.

Peebee: My! Aren’t we defensive today!

Cora: Yeah, I’m defensive. The Council ran that program specifically so species would integrate. It might save lives.

It makes Peebee, an actual asari, uncomfortable with how Cora behaves. And Cora gets defensive about this rather than does some self-reflection. And yeah, it does sound like she’s some white woman who spent a year travelling in Asia and comes back to North America acting like she unlocked the secrets of the universe through orientalism. I absolutely think that comparison is a fair one.

I’ve seen some people defend Cora’s behaviour with “but she was invited to train with the asari!” Yeah, but no one fucking invited her to fetishize them, which her idolization of their culture and way of life definitely comes off as. Yes you can learn from and appreciate other cultures, and benefit from that learning, but Cora takes it way too far.

Anyway, these are just some things I’ve observed thus far. It all adds up to me being uncomfortable with her.

#mea #anti cora #meta #ask

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storeecbrcod · 8 months

Text

Through the Rubble (Pt 3)

Ghost x Reader fic (TW: Injury, death, possible themes of derealisation)

Reckless, Price had said. He had become reckless.

Ghost didn’t listen whenever Price pulled him into his office, another talk about how his actions had been dangerous, risky. It had become a common narrative to him. The same thing over and over, how Price was worried about him and didn’t appreciate the blatantly dangerous ‘stunts’ he’d pull when on missions.

Well, it didn’t matter now. His mind buzzed as he sat against a cold wall on a cold floor, looking around with heavy eyes. He was so tired, so tired of everything. He was exhausted by making the effort to move on, exhausted by making the effort to come home safe.

Everything that had transpired since your death had been so dull. Every day was the same; get up, eat, go about his duties, be talked to by Price, lay down, and try in vain to sleep. A cycle on repeat every single fucking day. It was getting on his nerves.

Even now, he felt stuck in the cycle. Like every other day of his life, he grabbed his dog tags from around his neck, flipping them over gently. He had four tags on his chain, though; two saying Simon Riley, and two inscribed with your name.

He ran his fingers over your dog tags, a pang of grief shooting through him as he studied how one was bent on a slight angle, having buckled under the same weight you had. Another way the universe seemed to mock him, mock you. Another cruel joke.

He felt over them tenderly. In his mind, it was the only thing he had to connect you to him. Having never been one for gifts or photos, he had very little of you to look back on. He hated to admit it, but sometimes, your face escaped his reaching memory.

He took a deep breath, the air getting caught in his throat at the stinging of his pain. A small smile graced his lips, free for the world to see while his mask watched, discarded to the side. His movements were slow with emotion, with longing.

“Evening, [Name],” he murmured to himself. As per his routine, he spoke to you, a daily diary muttered into the night in the hopes that his words would drift on the rivers of cold air to your ears somewhere beyond. He was never a religious man, finding it pointless. But with you, a blessing to which he bore witness, he was a willing martyr.

“I think the job’s catching up to me, you know. It’s getting hard to keep my head in the game. Keeping focussed is so fuckin’ hard, y’know? “Johnny gets on my nerves more often, and Price is doing my damn head in. Always on my ass about how I don’t care anymore, no passion and such. Even Gaz pisses me off, and he doesn’t fuckin’ speak half the time,” he recounted, a rueful laugh echoing in his chest.

“I dunno, love. I’m… I’m over it. I don’t care for it anymore. Just… just you. I only care for you.”

He sighed, looking around with dull eyes. The night was quiet, uninterrupted by noise he cared to listen to. He only focussed on you, visualising your reaction to receiving his words.

“I was thinking of retiring,” he added, scoffing another laugh.

“Guess that doesn’t matter anymore.”

He was quiet, carefully tracing his bare fingers over the metal of your dog tags. The ridges of the lettering pressed smoothly into the pad of his thumb, tracing your name as if following the dips of your skin he had memorised so well. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine your heartbeat under his thumb spelling your name. The thumb did have it’s own heartbeat, after all. Longing belongs in the body as much as it does the mind.

His breath hitched, the struggle of impending, troubled sleep wracking his chest. A thick swallow followed, tasting the air that was filled with chill, filled with the metallic smell of blood he had never managed to clear from his senses.

“I just want to see you again, darlin’. I’ve been waiting for a damn long time. And to think you’ve been lookin’ over me, making sure I get home even when I do dumb shit like running into enemy fire. “I appreciate it, love, but let me come home. I don’t wanna go anymore, I wanna stay with you. I’m sick of being haunted by your death, all while living for the both of us. It’s bullshit, and you know it.”

His body spasmed, trying to keep itself away despite his quick loss of feeling, his mind’s fuzziness growing. He looked down, holding his dog tags with yours firmly, bringing them to his chest. His stuttering heart beat reverberated through the metal, a last beg for aid.

“I’ve pushed my luck enough, love. I’ll get to see you soon, I promise. I’ll find you,

“I always find you.”

Warmth had spread over him, yet he felt colder than he ever had. He didn’t even have the strength to look down as the last of his blood drained from him, the wounds littering his stomach aching.

He heard the distant chatter of his radio across the alleyway, but readily ignored it. He was done, his path to you lighting up for him to follow. He stepped away from his body without hesitation. ----------------------

What?

Beep. Beep. Beep.

What? What’s- Where are you?

Beep. Beep. Beep.

No, no, no. No. No.

He refused. He adamantly refused to feel his body. He tried to ignore how the soft pinch of the heart monitor clip bit into his finger, he tried to ignore the weight of blankets holding his legs in place. He tried to ignore the distant chattering of birds outside the window.

He tried to ignore the world. He tried to ignore life, the idea that he was still stuck on the godforesaken planet that had caused him so much agony.

He kept his eyes closed, wishing this was a stupid game his mind was playing on him. It had to be; he had accepted he was on his way back. He was excited to be on his way back to you.

But the world was cruel.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, bright light assaulting his vision and instantly making his head pound. A soft groan escaped him, a breath of throbbing pain and emotional turmoil.

It was true. He was alive.

He should have been happy; not everyone gets a second chance. Or, for him, this was probably closer to his hundredth. His hundredth time being dragged back into living, reaching at the darkness, clawing towards you.

“Easy, mate,” a voice sounded beside him. He looked, being met with blue eyes that spoke volumes; concern, worry, relief, and anger.

Ghost couldn’t help but groan in frustration, looking away from Price’s gaze. He knew exactly what was coming. Another bloody lecture about his near death, another lecture that showed Ghost nobody understood a lick of what he was going through.

“You’re pretty beat up. And very lucky,” Price said sternly, putting a hand to Ghost’s shoulder and keeping him on the bed. “Minutes, mate, minutes.” Minutes from being irrevoverable. Yet, Ghost cursed those minutes.

Price looked him over, seeing the rough scowl on his face. “You’re gonna have to apologise to Soap. He was distraught, thought he was too late. He was too late, in some way. No pulse, no breath, and nearly no damn blood.” Price was growing more irritated by the second, but it fell on deaf ears. Ghost was still trying to grasp the idea that he was still here, still breathing, still living. He was staring at the ceiling, trying to collect himself and keep calm.

Price sighed beside him. “Why are you so determined to die, Simon?”

Ghost’s eyes flicked straight to Price’s a burning hatred dancing like flames in his irises. He used his name, his real name. It was a quick way to anger him.

“Fuck you, Price,” it was a growl that emanated deep in Ghost’s chest, a dangerous warning. Price didn’t take it kindly, his own anger sparking.

“No, you don’t get to take the easy way out, not again,” Price shot back, “You’re always passing it off as if you aren’t in medical getting blood pumped back into your broken body every other week. I don’t get it, Simon, I don’t. Why are you so determined to kill yourself?” “Because I’m sick of it, Price!” Ghost boomed. “I’m bloody fucking sick of sitting here, dragging myself through each day to get nowhere. Nothing I do has any meaning anymore. It all left, it all fucking left with-”

Your name caught in his throat, a searing pain as grief rose up in his chest, twisting around his neck and suffocating his heart.

Price was quiet for a long moment, looking at Ghost with an unreadable expression. “[Name]? It all left with [Name]?”

Ghost grimaced, looking away. The crash of his tormented love devestated his body, making him shudder. There was a long pause, tears coming to Ghost’s eyes in a rare display of emotion other than anger. Price was taken aback, only now realising how much Ghost hadn’t moved on from your death.

Ghost looked to Price, a world of heartache evident on his face, the weeping lifeblood of his connection with you leaving stained riverbeds down his cheeks.

“When is it my turn for peace?”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 (Final)

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw ghost #ghost x reader #reader x ghost #Through the Rubble

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ghost-with-a-teacup · 1 year

Text

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏; 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader (Sol) AND Keegan P. Russ x Reader (Hatter) Author's Note: Hi!! As we all know, I have recently fallen into the deep dark hole that is the Call of Duty franchise (not that I mind :3), and from this I have made a lovely mutual @bloodonmyhands-1221 !! Furthermore, we have begun collaborating on a brand new series, 'Darkened Skies' featuring relationships with both Simon and Keegan (funnily enough I both bought and completed the COD: Ghosts campaign today lol). Here's the first chapter!! I didn't write it, this is brought to you by Hatter themselves :)) Happy reading!!

“I’ve got visual… But I’ve got to tell you Keegan… I’m not seeing shit,” Hatter scans the area, she had been told to sweep.

“Well doll face, take another look… There was a report from the other squad that they saw heavy movement over this way for the last few days,” Keegan’s voice filters through the radio.

“I’ve been staring at the same ugly landscape for the last thirty minutes… All I see is,” Hatter moves her binoculars towards the east, “Oh look… there is a lovely spot of grass…. Oh look, a tree,” she moves to look to the west, “And on this side, ladies and gentlemen, we’ll see a car that has seen better days, it probably needs an oil change, by the looks of it.”

“You’re a brat.”

“So, I’ve been told,” putting down the binoculars, Hatter takes a quick glance around her surroundings one last time, “Come to think of it… Why am I out here? I fucking outrank your ass.”

“Because of that prank you pulled on Merrick…”

“Fucker doesn’t know when to relax… He had it coming.”

“You’re an evil woman.”

“It’s why you love me, so much.”

“Yeah, we’ll go with that.”

The information, they had been told by a patrol, seemed valid – but questionable to say the least… It had been weeks since they had seen any lingering members of the Federation…

Or really anyone else for that matter.

She had thought…

‘Is this really over?’

The silence was almost too good to be true – it was the first real moment, she could stand outside and take a deep breath of air, without having to keep her rifle close to her chest.

Ever since the world went to shit, she had been running and fighting for her life – blood had been permanently stained on her hands to the point where washing it off, just seemed like a waste of time.

She had been fighting one war after another.

She was used to the gunfire and explosions…

The silence – had become deafening.

“You two are making me nauseous,” another voice filtered through the radio, there was a brief flicker of distortion as Hatter adjusted her radio.

“Look,” she speaks into the radio, “Just because Mr. Tall and Grumpy isn’t here to get your panties out of a wad doesn’t mean you got to rain on my parade.”

The voice laughed, “As I recall… and I defiantly can recall because you are NOT quiet… Keegan tired you out.”

“SOL!” You yelled at your friend and teammate.

“Fucking hell,” Keegan cut in, “Can you not?”

There is a mocked chorus coming from Sol, as she begins to repeat Hatter and Keegan’s eventful night.

“Remind me, to kick your ass when I get –“

There is a slight movement to the east; but it catches Hatter’s eye.

“As if you can kick my ass,” Sol continues.

“If she doesn’t kick your ass, I will,” Keegan comes to her defense.

“PLEASE, you all love me too much for that,” Sol retorts with a soft snicker, but Hatter blocks out their conversation as she focuses.

Pulling her binoculars from her lap, she tries to find the movement once again.

She sees wildlife; birds flying in the sky, while a deer or two runs across the broken pavement.

The movement had seemed lanky in movement, clouded in darkness - a shadow slithering across the scorching heat.

It looked human.

Pulling her rifle, she readies herself.

“Hatter?” Keegan calls out.

She is too focused to answer, not wanting to give away her position – she moves with calculated and light footsteps.

“Hatter, what’s going on?” Sol chimes in.

There!

The shadow lingers by a group of charred cars, the movements are sluggish – she can make out the form and knows it’s human.

She can see the wisps of blonde hair, dancing in the gentle breeze.

“Hello?” She steps around the car, trying to get a better read of the person.

But they either don’t hear her or chose not to.

“Are you hurt?”

The body stops.

She doesn’t know what comes over her.

Hatter was curious by nature, and it was her curiosity that usually got the better of her.

It got her in trouble.

Dropping her weapon, she makes her way towards the person, keeping her distance; hands staying close to the handgun strapped to her thigh.

“Excuse me?” She tries to keep her voice neutral.

But in truth, she was shaking.

She steps closer, wanting to see their face.

“I’m not going to hurt –“

The person couldn’t be no older than maybe twenty, a beautiful young girl with bright green eyes.

“Mam?”

The woman doesn’t acknowledge her as her eyes search far and wide, crazed and erratic.

Hatter can see she is scared; she can see her visibly shaking as if she was standing in the deepest pits of snow.

Her lips are moving, she’s mumbling nonsense, incoherent words that don’t seem to make any sense.

“Mam, are you hurt?”

Hatter dares another step.

It happens all at once – it catches Hatter off guard.

The mumbling stops, as does the crazed look and trembles.

“DON’T LET THEM TAKE ME BACK!”

Hatter jumps back, gun at the ready as the woman leaps forward, hands searching for the handgun.

“No!” Hatter tries to fight her off, refusing to kill a civilian.

She feels the weight of the handgun moving as the woman takes it from her holder.

“DON’T!”

The woman steps back, gun in her hand, pressed to her temple, “I refuse to be their puppet… You have to stop this… Stop this before it’s too late.”

“Stop what?”

Hatter watches in slow motion as the gun goes off.

The splat of blood is warm.

It flickers across her skin like raindrops.

She stares at the woman’s lifeless body, the blood pooling around her like a halo, soaking into the dried earth. She sees the faint shimmer of silver on the woman’s hands, as she spots the wedding band.

It makes her own wedding band itch with guilt and fear.

Hatter had witnessed death; it doesn’t bother her.

But…

This leaves her stomach turning in knots – leaves her on the edge of sickness and rage.

“HATTER?” Keegan’s voice echoes through the radio.

With a trembling hand, she grasps the radio.

“Keegan, we’ve got a problem.”

#keegan russ x reader #call of duty keegan #keegan p russ #call of duty #call of duty ghosts #simon #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod ghost #call of duty modern warfare

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

Text

The Dignity of His Choice (9)

Badge, Part Two (see previous or series)

Summary: Where do you go from here seriously, where? Can Steve come home? Can you stay with him? Is the threat over?

Warnings for cursing, a little violence, and several threats. (Minors DNI) Dividers by @firefly-graphics

His thick beard actually feels soft in your fingers, and you can’t help but scratch at it lightly.

You were not insane. Your hope wasn’t misplaced.

You’re going to fucking kill him.

Before you can even open your mouth to berate Steve though, Bucky explodes.

“Cake or no fucking cake, it’s time, punk. There’s only one damn name left, and you look like shit, and I wasn’t gonna come back to her floating in the damn bathtub.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he breaks from your hold.

“What do you mean there’s still one name? Why would—“

“You don’t know what I’ve done so far,” Bucky warns. “Spare me the speech or I will toss you up that ramp like a sack of potatoes.”

Steve makes a whining noise.

“Hit a nerve, did I? Good. Pack your shit—“

“I don’t have anything.”

Bucky glowers with a tilted head.

“And I’m not going,” Steve adds.

Now it’s your turn to shoot up. “WHAT?”

Steve doesn’t turn to you. He won’t look you in the eye. “Take her back. I’ll…get myself together while you find—“

“No,” Bucky grits out.

“Hey, dipshits. What list,” you try again, stepping between the two towering men.

“It’s a long story, and we need to get back before dawn.” Bucky walks to the door. “All three of us,” he adds for emphasis.

Nope. You’re way too sick of this charade.

“Seems like the dead guy’s got nothing but time,” you snip, standing unmoved.

“Sweetheart, Buck’s right. You’re still in danger.”

Bucky takes that as a good sign. “So smother the fire and let’s go.”

“Well, if you’re safe here, then so am I.” You turn to Bucky and repeat. “I won’t leave him.”

Bucky, to his credit, swallows hard at hearing the same words from Steve’s funeral, but it’s Steve who grabs your arms to turn you towards him.

“I don’t even think the water is okay for you to drink. It can’t be much longer.“ He warily eyes his friend behind you. “How close? What’s the intel?”

“Agent only known as ‘the fisherman.’” Bucky straightens, giving a one-shoulder shrug. “We’ve got next to nothing, but it’s the only one left and he—or she, as Nat reminds me—has to be the leak from inside the compound.”

You’re playing catch up in a race while cut off at the knees. “So not a list. Just a pseudonym. And they are inside the compound? Surely Tony’s been able to find—“

“Stark doesn’t know about him,” Bucky mutters, “or this.”

“There’s a—“ you have to pinch the bridge of your nose, too tired to process “—you two know there’s a traitor where we live and decided I couldn’t know, but you ALSO didn’t tell the genius—”

“Nat is plenty help with the online tra—“

“Because you were the target,” Steve barks.

Your head is spinning and sitting back down doesn’t help. “Then why did you DIE?"

Steve walks over to kneel at your side again, but he won’t reach out to touch you. His eyes are dark with shame, his face laced with fatigue and regret, but he says nothing.

It’s Bucky who starts. “You couldn’t know because if you acted like Steve was still alive, they’d know. Potentially dozens of people ready and willing to kidnap you and he’d still be at risk.”

You have to cock your head at that logic. “Did it ever occur to you that I could be genuinely sad and angry because my husband and I were threatened?”

The men go quiet again for a moment while you consider what Bucky just confessed. Dozens of names down to one. Steve hasn’t helped. Tony didn’t know. So far you only recognized Natasha’s involvement willingly. And Bucky said ‘you don’t know what I’ve done.’ The whole damn cabin is soaked in blood and tears you can’t even see. Everyone—everyone—here is in so much pain that they are more strangers than themselves.

What a fucking mess.

The intention is to bury your face in your hands, but you aren’t sure where the miscommunication between your mind and body happens. Instead, you end up launching into Steve’s arms, face buried in the layered collars of old sweaters, and you cling there until he wraps you gently in his hold. Your hands meet at a completely different place around his thinner shoulders.

It’s horrifying. But it can’t be undone. All you can do is problem solve.

“None of this is going to find the Fisherman or get him home faster. We need to leave.” Bucky seems to sense that a compromise is necessary.

Steve doesn’t want to leave. Bucky doesn’t want you to be seen. They both say you can’t stay here. (They’re both gonna get their asses handed to them as soon as this mess is handled by you, apparently.)

Sitting back on your heels to look at your living, breathing, hairy, sick husband, you offer an option that you hate. However, if it will end this nightmare as soon as possible, you’ll take it.

“So one name, right? Shouldn’t be that long?” You swallow heavily, brushing a hand to Steve’s chest while flashing what you hope is a reassuring smile. “We can…uh…maybe leave some food so he’s not…” Nope, it’s too hard to dwell on that. “I can call in sick to work. Winter cold. Make it run through Christmas if necessary. No one will think it’s because…yeah.”

You are so angry—furious, positively incensed—but those blue eyes you’ve dreamed about for months are right there, the soft hair that flows through your fingers is releasing real tangles, and the lips hiding beneath his facial hair are tangibly chapped. You run your thumb over them, just to be sure.

Bucky seems to relax a little. “Sold.”

“It’s Christmas,” Steve asks softly.

Oh god, that about breaks your already chewing-gum repaired heart.

You point a finger at Bucky. “And if you think you’re ever getting an apology for hitting you—“

“You call that a hit, nerd? More of a nudge really—“

“Fuck you, perv—“

“Alright,” Steve hisses, “let’s just all…” He coughs but then he can’t stop.

You and Bucky glare at Steve, waiting for him to catch his breath.

“He can’t stay here,” you whisper to Bucky. So much for the plan. So much for compromise. You’ll make Bucky carry him as promised.

“Keeps, please. You’re not safe yet,” Steve sputters when he can get words out.

“We need to get back before dawn,” Bucky encourages.

“Seriously, which one of you is—” You go to get Steve a drink and hold in a scream. “At least get him some safe water.”

“I can handle the water,” Steve tries between wheezes, “just give me a minute.”

“Fine, we will go get him supplies in the jet,” Bucky offers, hand waving toward the door, “and then we—you and I—leave. Good?”

“No, it’s not fucking good.” You look back at Steve holding his breath and focusing on not coughing. It’s not a good plan, but it will have to do. Suddenly you think about that. Is it what they thought when they started all this? It’s not a good plan, but it will have to do. At least no one is really dead…yet.

“Honey—” you smooth your hands over his shoulders and lean to kiss his head “—we’ll be right back.”

Steve petulantly stands, heaving out a sigh finally but without any cough. “I can help,” he mumbles and then stronger, “I can help.”

When you catch Bucky’s eye, Bucky winks at you and opens the door. Hopefully, that means that he’ll just knock Steve out in the jet before his (maybe actual) death march back out here, but you can’t confirm that you two are on the same page. No one in this room has been on the same page for months, and you’re starting to fear, years.

Standing on the porch, you look to Steve. Normally, he would pick you up and carry you, but this is a challenge. You don’t forgive him yet because you sincerely don’t understand. You love Steve Rogers; you always have. Even before you met him, you would have said you loved the man Steve is. You know he’s trustworthy. You know he’s moral and that his heart is always in the right place. You know he is thoughtful and considerate, and so if this is what he chose, he hasn’t changed.

You harbored those crazy hopes for months, longed for more time, clung to sharper memories. So he is alive. What did you think he was doing? Surely this is a better outcome than being a P.O.W. held by an enemy and tortured. From the looks of him, all that happened; he was just his own enemy. Why doesn’t that help you feel better?

He’s guarded and hesitant like those early days of your courtship when he didn’t know where to put his hands or how to ask. He’s allowed to, right? You think about that. Is your husband allowed to touch you now? Do you want him to?

The first word to flood your mind is ‘yes.’ He’s still your husband, and you made vows, and damn it, you missed him so fucking much it hurts. Everything is fresh and fragile and deep like the snow at the bottom of the stairs.

You hold out your hand to Steve, and you know he stares down at it. You can’t make out any specific features when plunged into only moonlight again, but the weight of his pause means he understands. He knows the gesture means something. It also feels as if you both aren’t quite sure what it all means, but you both want it.

Bucky walks on past, leading the way, hand still on his gun.

Instead of staying side-by-side, Steve slides his hand under yours and lets his other wrap your waist, standing slightly behind you.

“Try to use Buck’s prints,” he whispers. “Might be easier.”

When you flip your fingers over, you can feel how rough his hands are, much rougher than you remember. He hasn’t had his suit gloves on for months and has done more manual labor than ever. It’s simply another difference that surprises you, just like the difference in how new his proximity feels, his breath near your ear, his grip at your side. It makes you swallow thickly.

Steve feels new now, unfamiliar in a way that makes you feel like you’re cheating on his memory. Which is patently ridiculous. That’s absurd, but it doesn’t stop your body from sweating under even the light pressure of the hand on your side, barely there through the thick down of your coat.

If he notices your tension rising, Steve doesn’t say a word about it. He follows behind you slowly and mutters “come on, love, let’s get you home” so quietly you might be imagining it. His same tender care is present in every step, keeping your balance while keeping his distance, supportive while giving you space. The thoughtfulness lands differently now. Something still needs to be earned.

When the jet is finally in sight, Steve attempts to start several questions.

“When did…”

“Do you…”

“Why would they…”

He never completes a single one. Though he must be desperate to have a real conversation, and he’s anxious enough to try in a silent forest during the dead of night on god knows what continent, he seems afraid of the answers.

In the corner of one of Bucky’s tracks, there’s a rock, and your foot catches it at just the wrong angle. Your ankle rolls outward. Down you go. These big boots are coming undone.

“I’m fine,” you assure Steve as he helps you up. It’s only fifty yards more to the jet. “I’m taking these off and going home in socks though.”

“Trade you?” Steve’s voice reeks of a sly smile. “Mine are done in.”

You huff a chuckle. He’s endearing even when infuriating, the little—

“Punk,” Bucky calls softly, sick of waiting, “let’s get a move on.”

No sooner have you heard the first thunk of rubber on the ramp than you are pulling at the laces.

“You okay,” Steve checks.

Well, that’s a loaded fucking question. His face falls, bathed in light from the cargo bay. He’s opening his mouth again to correct the wording but you cut him off.

“Go ahead.”

You’re happy Bucky’s keeping him busy. They’re chatting, and Steve is all too eager to have a conversation that’s not with himself. You can tell by how your husband actively encourages their banter, even though Buck’s cursing. With any luck, Steve will be subdued and strapped down (or whatever Bucky’s gonna do) by the time you get up there because these stupid dark laces on these huge dumb boots are—

For the second time tonight, a hand claps over your mouth and pulls you back off the ramp and into the snow and shadow. The shuffling sleeves of your puffy coat make more noise than your muffled yelp of shock. You can still hear the men talking up inside the jet. You’re hauled back.

One step. Two steps. Nearly ten strides go by before you hear boots echoing on the metal ramp again.

“Keeps,” Steve calls, voice still a little hoarse from coughing.

A harsh and low shh brushes your ear.

“What the hell,” Bucky mutters, drawing his gun and walking straight for you.

That’s when you feel the cold, hard metal muzzle against your temple.

“Sorry, Soldier,” a deep voice says behind you, “this is not how this was supposed to play out.”

Steve is still slow to catch up to Bucky. “YOU?”

“Ah-ah, that’s close enough, Captain.”

You can’t see who it is, and he hasn’t said enough to recognize the voice. It’s hard to concentrate when his arm shifts from your mouth to your throat. You have to gasp for each breath.

“Too bad there’s not enough resources left to take the pair o’ ya. Two super soldiers would have been better than one any day…” The muzzle pinches against your skin, making you hiss in pain.

“But you,” Steve stays where he is, hands not up in surrender but not relaxed either, “you helped. You killed those three intruders.”

“Ramone?!” The name comes out garbled with his hold so tight.

“Well, I told those idiots which door not to come in, but—why am I even bothering? This isn’t storytime. Hand the gun to Cap there, Bucko. No need to make a scene of it. Either of you so much as blinks out of turn, and I shoot ‘er.”

You scrabble to hold the forearm choking you, clawing at strong flesh, grip slipping when he doesn’t yield, and your one hand drags down across your watch, harshly scraping your knuckles.

Steve looks at Bucky. There’s an unspoken agreement as Steve slowly takes Bucky’s weapon but keeps it pointed at the ground. He looks back up at you, but his face is so obscured from under his long hair, you can’t tell he’s thinking.

“Kill him,” Ramone ‘Triple Crown’ Costa, the long-time security guard at AvIn Main Campus, orders flatly. “Three to the head. Three to the chest. Should do it.”

Wait. Your watch. Tony Stark’s watch.

You relax your grip on Ramone’s arm, and he shifts in perceived victory.

“That’s the choice. You blow Barnes’s brains out, or I do hers.”

Steve lifts the gun without hesitation, and Bucky looks right at his best friend and nods.

“There’s,” you choke out, “—a—“ tap “—third—“ tap “—option,” twist “—asshole.”

“No, sweetheart. The men are talking.” Ramone shoves his nose into your hair, lowering the muzzle of his gun a few inches to the dip of your neck.

You pull hard at the watch face, manifesting metal dragging over your fingers to cover your palm, and you shove your hand up past your ear. The whine of the repulser is deafening, and the force of the blast takes your captor down while his arm still grips your throat.

While your ears ring, the world spins.

Then it’s dark and silent.

(Next part)

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads

#steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #fanfic #fools rush in #steve x you #steve rogers fanfiction #series #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america #mcu fic #mcu fanfiction

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circa-specturgia · 2 years

Text

Circa Specturgia - In a red courtyard

A scene from my main WIP, Circa Specturgia. I had a lot of fun writing this one, tried out a few things, had new ideas I weaved in there, and hope that you enjoy reading it as well! Includes my protagonist, Caspian, and Adira.

Inspired by the song “Dangerous” - Welshly Arms, recommend playing it once they get to sparring! ✨

TW// Violence, Fire, Start of a panic attack

The Vælan stepped over to the Jihn who stood in the shadow of the inner courtyard walkway, joining him hidden in the shadows formed by the silver moonlight from above. His expression was muddled, a mess of confusion, helplessness, frustration, and deep though, brow furrowed and wine red eyes glistening in silver, locked on the boy training in the courtyard.

He made to move towards the mahogany railing, pulling on a smile, before she stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder, speaking quietly.

- ”It’s not what he needs right now. I’ll handle this. You need to get some sleep after todays shit.” She said, adding before Cyril could say anything more. “Trust me with him, alright? Rest.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking between Adira and Cas, before sighing and smiling tiredly, this time genuinely, intense focus fading. Leaning in, he brushed his lip to her cheek, before trudging to their room silently as she had, light on his feet as ever, though it was clear from how far his shoulders slumped when he let his wide frame relax that he had been tense. Adira couldn’t help but think of her own father, how he’d worried over Alvor when he’d trained himself to the bone.

Once she heard him collapse on the bed, then did she move to the stairs, ears slightly twitching, picking up the sounds of the rest of the space. Scribbling pencil and hushed whispers from Tam and Ciro’s room. Alix’ having no sound, they had fallen asleep early, reading. Crows feet pattered on the patterned burgundy roof of the building. The steps were loud, creaking if not for her avoidance of the loud ones, making her way to the edge of the square.

Adira leaned against the pillar at the edge of the walkway where it opened into the courtyard with her arms crossed, watching Cas’ form and footwork intently. Analytically. The boy met her eye for jut a moment, stoping for just a half-second before fluidly transitioning into the next step, feet dancing over the tiled design. He’d improved.

- “Are you trying to get a repeat of whatever happened back there? Whatever that was?”

- “I’m trying to make sure I don’t.” He replied tersely, though not stopping his movements, his tone dead, focused.

- “…You’ve gotten better. I’m proud.” She said after a minute.

- “Stop trying to make me feel better General. Doesn’t suit your… everything.” He cracked, moving to face his back to her, to hide the small smile that passed over his expression.

- “Same brat I had to beat all those basics into, huh?”

A loose strand of flame flew towards her at the jab, extingushed on reflex with a flick of the wrist, water rising from the grated channels running around the perimiter of the courtyard to answer her call.

She chuckled at the immature gesture, focusing on his expression again, his face being a mask of focus, though she’d seen him focused enough times in training to read the hidden worry etched in his brow.

- “Hey, look at me. Kid.” She spoke sternly, but with an uncharacterstic gentleness to her tone, catching Caspian off guard, prompting him to let the dancing fire burn out, his eyes just black once more, the worry becoming all the more prominent. “You’re not losing yourself to power. I’ve seen it happen, that’s not what’s going on here. Whatever it is, it’s not your fault and not in your control. Now get some rest.”

- “I’m not tired.” He replied, once again summoning flame, fluid and controlled movements not betraying any sign of deceit.

- “No, you’re not…” she paused for a minute, asking after a few moments of footwork. “Can’t sleep?”

Cas nodded. A moment of quiet passed, only the furling and whipping of the flames and the wind of the night audible, before the vælan steped forward, taking off her jacket and rolling up her sleeves, tying her hair back with a blue ribbon previously tied at the wrist.

- “Tell you what. I could blow off some steam. Slagsmål, let’s go.”

- “You sure…? I don’t want to cut into the others sleep-” Cas began, raising an eyebrow, before she cut him off.

- “You need something to take your mind off of things. Be selfish for yourself once in a while Kid.”

Cas sighed, eventually leaning down to roll up the cuffs of his currant pants, rolling up the sleeves of the loose shirt, finding his spot on the opposite side of the tiled floor from where his teacher. She stretched kicking off her shoes, first fingers, then hands, arms, shoudlers, core, legs, calves, ankles.

The two knelt before each other, one knee, meeting eyes before leaning down, forehead to the cold, course slate. Rising slowly, Cas felt her influence encompass the space, instantly extending his own, pushing back, a pale smile ticking the corner of his lips, the familiar and comforting chill of pressure running up his spine. A heaviness filled the air, flowing, fluid, but universally dense. Both held their breath.

In a split second, the courtyard was filled with flame, crimson light, strings snapping, the deep thrum of energy reverberating through the air, the hiss of quenched fire filling Adira’s ears as she guarded.

A heavy thud accompanied by a grunt from beyond the sea of red and gold brought on a smirk. She’d hit her mark. The flames died, revealing the scene, Cas a few feet to the side of an angled pillar of ice. He shook his arm in annoyance, wincing though not speaking, regaining his balance, uncharacteristic intensity, no banter as was his norm. His form shimmered for a moment, as she watched his stance widen and lower. One foot sliding back, eyes locked on her, slow flames starting to dance from his chest, arms, legs… Sense. ‘On-command, huh? Nice work.’ She thought, before speaking.

- ”Now-” She matched his wager, focusing, feeling her breathing slow and deepen, heart thundering in her chest, voice reduced to a heavy whisper, her breath turning to mist - “you’ve made things interesting, kid.”

Cas held for a moment, watching his mentor’s stance. Silver frost gathered across the alf’s skin, spreading across the tiles beneath her feet. An opening. It took him about a half a second to capitalize on the opportunity, feinting his control to the left before aiming an arc at her right, the bass of the blast shaking the courtyard as he attacked. Cold washed over his fist. She’d managed to parry. Damn it.

The hair stood up on his neck, dodging out of the way of a strike from the left, back stepping. The fire around him sparked brighter. So long as he kept that up, he could counter at least some of the ice, limit her range of getting him close.

Another step back, melting the ice she’d formed under his feet without effort. Move, keep your guard, dig in to strike, stay in control. These words echoed in his head, like a mantra of focus, negating strikes from the right and above with a forceful spiral of fire. The ice cracked with a thunderous snap from the shock of heat.

Move. He stepped towards the right, against the attack, not away. A second one followed the first he’d countered, this time dodging. Shards sharp as metal, grazed his shoulder.

Keep your guard. Senses sharpened, acute. An arc prepared, from the lower right. He quickly extended his influence there as well, the same flow as Adira’s ice in preparation, but one of fire. Meeting it as it was formed, the air shook, cracking, heat and cold. A perfect Bossellian Counter. Adira didn’t have time to be proud.

Dig in to strike. The student raced forward, crossing the distance between them instantly, in a move too annoyingly reminiscent of a certain Jihn now asleep upstairs, to the mentors eyes. Eyes like embers sparked with focus, an exhilirated smile on his face. A matrix glowed in his hand, hastily drawn. Spiraling Triangles Formation. ‘Not bad Kid,’ was all Adira could half-think before training kicked in, weaving a counter.

Stay in control. Control. A sudden cold washed over his mind, freezing him up for a moment.

He’d pushed too hard. A memory of what had happened when he’d felt like this before flashed before his eyes. He pulled back on reflex. Before he could really grasp what had happen, he was on the ground, cheek scraped against the tile, Adira pinning him down. His breathing became uneasy, shaky, panicked. Afraid.

It all couldn’t have taken longer than 20 seconds.

A blade clanged into the ground in front of his face, showing him the reflection of his eyes.

- “Hey. Hey, look. Not gold. You’re fine.” He stopped struggling immediately, frozen for a second before relaxing as she climbed off of him, resheathing the knife. Cas’ breathing leveled out as he got to one knee, hair falling in his face, exhaused. “You can’t just pull back the moment you feel powerful. Don’t fear it. You’re strong Kid, if it happens again you’ll power through it… How long have you been practicing anyways?”

- “An hour… Give or take.” He managed, barely.

- “Breaks?”

- “Every ten minutes.” He pointed at a kettle and few herbs he had lying at the edge of the courtyard. Something told Adira he’d been drinking it straight, scalding, taking advantage of the resistance to temperature.

- “Well, you’re done for today. You’ll put yourself in a coma if you push yourself after Sensing like that. Get to bed. I’ll be beating you till you pass out every night if you don’t take better care of yourself starting now. Understood?” Cas managed a weak smile.

- “Understood, General.” He turned to walk to the stairway, before she added.

- “What I said before, I meant it. It’s not your fault, Cas. Whatever it is… You have us. We’re not going anywhere. I won’t let anyone hurt you, neither will Cyril, alright?”

- “Thanks.” His voice was a bit hoarse when he finally spoke, wiping a fleck of melted ice from his eye as he dragged himself upstairs.

- "Yeah, yeah. Get some rest, Kid. You’ll need it for when I kick your ass again tomorrow.”

Hope you enjoyed! ✨

Taglist? Taglist! ✨ Thanks to all these wonderful people for supporting me and giving me the inspiration and motivation to write!

@bloodlessheirbyjacques @athenswrites @magefaery @writingonesdreams @muddshadow @awritingcaitlin @agrimedena-drax @pinespittinink @tryingtimi

#circa specturgia #wip.circa specturgia #TSS but it’s actually a Wednesday!#Cause time does not exist™️#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing community #writing #wtwcommunity #snippet #my writing #original writing

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renneiscent · 11 months

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Two Sides of The Same Coin

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 6: When the spring comes...

I didn’t really date much in my life; I experienced deep interactions with some guys before but we never consider it as dating, I ghosted some, I left some, I kissed some. But no, I don’t really engage with any of them. Oh, wait… I used to date one back in my senior school. But it didn’t long last since in our 3 months of dating, I found him kissing my ex-best friend. Cliché, I know. Back then when I dated him, my brother was still staying near me so my ex didn’t have to try so hard to be gentleman and take me home. After all, he is not a gentleman at all.

So it’s hard to experience when a guy takes me home, in the middle of the night, especially when he knows my address really well and I’m living by my own self, with messy hair and tiring face, after we just had a kiss in our very first meeting.

“Thank you,” I say as returning his helmet to him, almost dropped it.

“What for?” he asks, purely confused, as if taking me back to home is the normal thing ever.

“For taking me home, for helping me back in the alley, for lending me some clothes… oh, shit, my clothes!” I almost yell. How could I even forget to leave my dirty clothes, my underwear?!

Athena will hate me even more.

“It’s alright,” he sits on the motorcycle, levelling his gaze with mine. “I will give it back tomorrow. If you are not comfortable with me touching your properties, I will ask for some help.”

“Tomorrow?” I raise my brows, shocked.

“Do you have plan tomorrow?” his tone sounds disappointed.

“No, it’s not that.” I cannot hide my smile. “Didn’t you say that I should forget about tonight?”

“Right,” he brushes his nape; his eyes are looking somewhere else but me. “Well, I still should give your clothes back… and stuffs.”

“And stuffs?” I’m amused.

“And stuff,” he looks at me.

My heart is pounding so hard as if it will explode any time. I have no clue about what is the reason for him to change his decision this sudden, but I’m grateful for it. The idea about him disappears from me again after tonight’s encounter will drive me insane and I don’t want to make the scenario out of it. I don’t want to jinx it.

“Just so you know that I’m not a morning person,” I inform.

“I know,” his eyes sparkle.

“I should realise, you even know my address.” I smirk, arms crossed over my chest.

“I sincerely apologise, I didn’t mean to be that creepy stalker but—”

“And for exchange, I want your number.” I immediately cut him off as I grope my phone inside my purse, not even care with his expression right now.

He chuckles, “do you have paper and pen I can borrow?”

“Uhm… sure,” I immediately take my pocket size journal and pen out of my purse then give it to him without questioning his motive.

He writes something on it and then rips the paper out from the journal as he stands up from his position. He is taking few steps closer toward me. My face is just few inches with his chest. He leans down; his mouth is levelling with my ear as I can hear his breath, while his hand is moving through me. I’m baffled with what he is trying to do, but whatever it is managed to make me holding my breath.

And then I can feel some of his fingers on my butt, slipping the paper he’s been holding on the back pocket that I didn’t even realise it’s there. I gasp.

“Don’t save on your phone,” he whispers. “Memorise it, it’s not that hard.”

As he takes few steps back, I’m looking at him which I didn’t even realise that his thumb already on my lower lip—which I also didn’t realise that I’ve been biting it. He pulls it gently, makes me didn’t bite it any longer. Then his hand is reaching mine and handing me the pen and the journal.

“I will try,” my voice sounds weird. I clear my throat and repeat, “I will try.”

“Good,” he takes position on his motorcycle as he wears his helmet. “You better get inside and take some rest. See you tomorrow, MC.”

He turns the key in the on position and starts the engine, but I’m still standing there as if my legs are attached and becoming one with the ground. He takes a glance on me before riding that classic machine passing through the quiet and serene street, leaving me behind still watching him from afar. My eyes are looking fixated on him until it cannot catch his figure anymore.

“See you tomorrow, Jake.”

I managed to get inside my flat without waking up my landlord, his annoying cat, and other tenants. My legs run into my bed and without thinking twice, I jump on it, letting my face is drown on my soft and fluffy pillow. This is really happening. I finally met Jake after these years, I wrapped my arms around him, I KISSED him and he KISSED me. How many times? I didn’t even count. Wait, how do I even look when he kissed me?

I stand up from my position right away and head toward my dressing table, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I wince.

“Is that me!?” I point to myself. “Or is that you?!” I point at my reflection, I gasp; feeling like the reflection there is not mine. “The makeup is not that ruined, but still… I look horrendous.”

While questioning my existence, my brain is doing vicious work as it starts replaying the moment I met Jake and of course while it’s showing my own face while interacting with him. I grimace in pain.

“At least I didn’t say something stupid,” I take a pause. “Integrity?! Why did I say that?! Ugh!!”

I throw my body on the bed, hugging my pillow for it helps me relieving myself from the sudden stress. “This won’t do, I should prepare my skin for tomorrow. Oh, wait… what time is it?” I glance at my digital clock on the drawer. It shows half past 12. What time will we meet tomorrow?

My hand soon grabs the paper Jake put in the back pocket, there are some numbers written on it. I take my phone out from my purse, going to the message icon and then blankly stare at the screen. What should I say? I’m bewildered. Let’s just say something simple and casual. Yeah, that will do.

But what? What is that?

I take a deep breath, calming myself to not throw my phone. Am I this dumb?

MC: Hi MC: So, this is my number and you gave me yours. That’s why I can message you right now MC: In case you forgot about it

There is no reply… yet. He maybe is still riding his motorcycle or doing some errands. Probably. I don’t know. I should clean my face and put some mask. I’m turning up my phone’s volume until the highest so I can know when he replies my message. I put my phone on the drawer near my bed as I stand up to the bedroom. But what if I take a quick shower and didn’t listen to the notification?

So that’s why here I am, inside the bathroom, while taking quick shower, with my phone on the top of my bathroom’s cabinet. I’m so pathetic. I take off my clothes as I glance toward my phone. No message. I wash my body and my hair, still glance over the phone. No message. I brush my teeth and wash my face, I’m looking at my phone through the corner of my eyes. Nope, still no message. I wear my pyjamas and finally rest on my comfy bed, but still there is no message.

Ding!

UNKNOWN IS NOW ONLINE

UNKNOWN: Hello, MC. UNKNOWN: Haha. UNKNOWN: No, I won’t forget.

I almost scream. Never had I known that I will be able to see Jake writes for me again. It’s been so long to look at him calling my name through message. I want to scream. This is so thrilling.

UNKNOWN: Are you sleeping?

I guess I’m taking too much time for staring at my phone until I forgot to reply.

MC: Did you make it home safely? UNKNOWN: Yes, I did. MC: You better take some rest UNKNOWN: I will :)

That goddamn smiley face is back to town!

MC: Text me the place tomorrow UNKNOWN: Of course. MC: Good night Jake UNKNOWN: Good night, MC. UNKNOWN: See you tomorrow.

MC IS NOW OFFLINE

UNKNOWN IS NOW OFFLINE

I’m smiling from ear to ear while staring at my phone screen then to Jake’s hoodie that hanging on my standing hanger, with heart is still pounding out of excitement. I thought I have to move on and forget about Jake’s existence. Who knows that I will find him in the same city with me, bringing me to where he is living for now, letting him kissed me passionately, even having chance to spend more time with him tomorrow?

I anticipate whatever will happen tomorrow excitedly, my heart feels full. I’m replaying his feature on my brain; the soft hair as black as the night as if the heaven is spilling all their ink to paint it. The eyes as clear as the ocean as if when I take a deep closer, I might feel the beach’s breeze caress my face. The warmth of his hands and his body I’m yearning as if I’m the cat which is born to be sun-seeker.

And I can sense my feeling for him is growing bigger since that night.

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