/wfg/ - Writefag General - "Make Love To War" Edition

>>31553248
Side note, thread highlights were omitted thanks to the autists stirring up the shit about tankgeists taking over the thread. There, happy now, fuckers?

>>31553265
Let's hope since jtfag was keeping the last 3 threads up

>>31553248
Is there a repository for model kit box art?

>>31553477
No idea. But I wouldn't actually care if some of those were posted in here. Go ahead if the threads need bumps.

>>31553618
Sorry, can't bump thread 2nite, I'm beat.

I'll keep the thread alive. Don't you worry

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Have no fear my friends, I'll keep the thread alive, at least for a whole. S'time I start posting this new story of mine to get things moving with it.

And if you're wondering who the fuck I am, I'm the faggot with such great works as

http://pastebin.com/g2uyGAZP

And nothing else because I'm a hack!

Hope you enjoy.

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>>31553873

>"Where you from, Sarrent Burton?"
>A young, lanky black private from Baton Rouge Louisiana spoke up, His arms exposed from under his flak jacket, not wearing anything under it. Last name of 'Walker' written on it crudely with marker.

>His eyes looking across the bay at the tall, reasonably well built white man, the only of the group of 10 that hadn't said a thing since they boarded, shouting required over the chopping of the rotors and the sounds of Deep Purple's "Hush" being blared through the internal speakers of the UH-1, The treeline of the Vietnamese jungle seeming to flutter in the artificial breeze generated by the helicopter's engines.

>Without a word Burton turned his head and laid his eyes on the G.I. that spoke to him, the chinstrap to his own helmet hanging free, his flak jacket fitting him perfectly as opposed to the slimmer man that was striking up conversation, his sleeves rolled up neatly just above his elbows, a black watch on his left wrist, some old bandages wrapped around his right forearm, grass stained and dirty, a bit of dried blood on them.

>Sgt. Burton was the only G.I. in the Helicopter still carrying an M-14. There was something about him that let the younger, greener, G.I.'s know he'd been here in this damned country just a little too long, and seen a little too much, before dug into his pocket, pulling a cigarette and lighting it carefully with his beat up zippo, curling around it to prevent the down wash from the rotors and the wind blowing in from forward motion to cause issue with the flame kissing the end of the smoke.

"Podunk Maryland."

>He finally spoke in a relatively rough, but accent free voice, smoke from the cigarette puffing from his mouth with each word, but he didn't say much more than that.

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>>31553893

>"What like Balt'more?" Walker replied. "I got some senpai'ly in Balt'more" he added smiling a bit, trying to be talkative, unlike most of the others. Little more than half of them too green to focus on anything more than their jitters.

"Sort of"
>Replied the reserved Sergeant, puffing his cigarette again. Usually Burton was quiet, but having a discussion was nice for a change.

>"You strike me as onna dem crabbin' boys, that what you is Sarrent?" Walker looked him over a bit more closely.

>Burton smirked just a little bit.

"I might know a thing or two about it."
>Smoke billowed from his lungs as he spoke.

>"Yee, you look like the type. I can tell." Walker nodded to himself seeming proud he could guess something about the Sergeant he'd been with for a couple weeks now, and only just got some form of personal discussion out of him.

>Burton nods a bit, a faint smile curling on his lips, surveying his men.

>A young white G.I. the Sergeant hadn't seen before today in the far corner of the bay was speaking to his rifle, this put under his command in a scramble to give him more hands for his fire team by the clueless Butterbar back at base.

>"Carver" on his name tag, two stripes were on his sleeves, a corporal, and he seemed to have his wits about him, Burton analyzed him a bit, coming to the conclusion he could rely on him if he needed to.

>He was talking to it in hushed tones, but in a very friendly manner, the thick issued glasses on his face as he held his rifle tight to his body while talking, the words inaudible.

>He had one.

>One with that damned spirit in it.

>Soldiers that had been in the shit for more than just a fight or two considered them bad luck. But not everyone had one, Seemed like just the 'special' rifles, maybe ones that were built a special way, or ones that just fit together just right. But nobody really knew how or why, Some just did, but most didn't.

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>>31553942
>Senpai'ly
Fucking filter.
>
>
>
>At first the Waffegeists or "geists" as they called themselves were something the men would fight over having one of, after all who wouldn't want to share a bunk with a pretty American girl during all this shit.

>Problem was it seemed like the men with those rifles were the ones that died first. Then the geists that; for some reason all happen to be girls, never acted the same afterward.

>They touted themselves as "Self Cleaning" but somehow never managed to do it, they choked on their ammunition, they failed when the men carrying them needed them the most. Burton had seen it too much, though he had no idea if his rifle had one or not, nor did he want to. The thought of having something in his possession that could actively talk to him while being present but not exactly real honestly weirded him the fuck out.

>Though; there had been times he'd thought he'd heard a sound or something from the rifle, but in the middle of combat he couldn't be sure about it. There was no reason to assume anything, besides. Most of the Geists were too proud not to show themselves off to their owners, at least the M-16's anyway.

>With a grunt he shook the thought from his head as he checked his M-14 over one last time, Giving the magazine a good smack and pulling the op-rod back just a bit to check for brass, letting go and then smacking it forward a couple of times to ensure it went into battery. Several of the G.I.'s watching him and doing it as well -- boys that would probably make it through today, following the example of someone that had seen more fighting than them.

>With that the pilot called in over the radio. "One minute to LZ." Burton moved, grabbing a bar above his head and sat up higher in a hunched over crouch and looking at everyone, commanding them with a "Gear check" mostly directed to the G.I.'s that failed to do so already, A faint tinge of anger on his face for even having to say it.

FAL is back, fuck yes

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>>31553979

>The draft kept bringing in kids, and they had no fucking idea what they were doing, fresh out of Advanced Infantry Training, and he had to make fucking fighters out of them.

>The UH-1 Begins to dip down, the 2 other choppers in formation with the Sergeant's following suit.

>Fire erupted from the treeline pinging off the fuselage, The gunner on the port side of the chopper begins to open up with his M-60, cutting up the foliage, the Sergeant yelling over the gunfire as the chopper touches down.

"ON ME, ON ME, LETS GO!"
>He was first to drop his boots out of the helicopter, running through waist high grass and past some of the dreary trees, sliding into cover beside a cement building at the outer perimeter of the town they were to assault.

>He leaned out and took some rushed shots at the sounds of enemy fire, wrapping himself around the wall again as the corner he was leaning around bursts along with the crack of incoming fire, sending cement and rubble toward his head, pattering off his helmet harmlessly.

>He looked back, his fire-team still streaming in and tucking up on the wall with him. He pointed to his machine gunner and waved him up, dropping him down to prone at the corner.

"You see that mother fucker up there in that building with the fuckin' shutters? Smoke his ass!"
>Burton shouted the command at the M-60 gunner, giving him cover fire, the gunner beginning to open up, chopping the cement building with his fire, blasting holes in the outer wall, splintering the wooden shutters.

>Several NVA burst out of the small hutch on the roof, running along the rooftop for a safer position, the Sgt. and the 60 gunner changing their course of fire, a couple other men stepping out and providing additional focus with their M-16's, picking the runners off, two dropping off the roof of the three story building and onto the street.

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>>31554025

>The Sergeant then turned, reloading and looking at his men
"Walker, Stevens, Black, Guererra, On me."

>The four men immediately reporting to him.

"We're going to cut across this street here. When we dropped in I saw some of the gooks setting up some kinda block to the west along this street."
>He gestures widely, marking a general direction, knife handing as he does so.

"Carver."

>"SIR!" The young man from before with the geist in his rifle replied.

"I'm putting you in command of Bravo team. You're going to flank around the backs of these buildings and try and meet with us. We're gonna pinch this block they've got set up. You wait for the smoke, then jump the fuckers from behind."

>"Roger, sir." He headed back to his former position, relaying the Sgt's command.

"Move out."
>Burton commanded, packing up his squad and moving quickly across the street, his four men in tow, ducking and running as a few shots snapped at them from a window about 90 meters away, hopefully trying to score a hit on one of them, only serving to ping off the street and make the squad speed up. A couple of the men fire as they run, peppering the sides of the buildings in vein, only causing to make more noise, but all of them made it safely across.

>Burton moved carefully along the side of the new concrete building providing him and his men with cover, ducking under some wires and an outdoor fuse box, his M-14 in the high ready, eventually meeting a wooden door that he orders his men to stack up on.

>With a thunderous kick Gurererra knocked it wide open and took point entering quickly with his Model 12, clearing the inside of what seemed to be a general store, moving through the inside of the store to the front, stopping short of the large glass window, Burton stepping up to use it as a vantage point down the main street.

>There was about 12 more of the 2 or 3 story concrete buildings lining this particular street, the rest wooden houses and the like.

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>>31554079

>A roadblock of barbed wire and sandbags stacked shoulder high was set up in the center of the street, blocking it off from one sidewalk to the other, NVA machine gunners posted in their man made fox holes with MG's but he couldn't quite tell what kind from the distance he was standing, there looked to be about 10 or 11 of them in the nest if all the motion inside was any indication, all of the MG's lined up straight at the mouth of the street they would have to run across to loop around onto their right flank.

>With a deliberate motion Burton presses the front door open, lodging it in place with a piece of splintered wood and readies a smoke grenade, pulling it from the pouch on his flak jacket.

>He looked the surroundings over once more getting a good angle on how to throw, putting his finger in the pin and twisting it while pulling, the spoon clanging free and hitting the ground of the store, wasting no time he flicked the grenade side arm, the canister rolling into the middle of the street, beginning to flood it with a haze of smoke.

>"Hang on, I got one." Walker fumbled with his own smoke grenade, following suit, saving Burton his other smoke grenade, the private's throw making it further, nearly to the other side of the street.

>Two smokes was just enough to obscure vision across the narrow Vietnamese street as the squad pushes out of the store, going wide and to the right, fire beginning to erupt as the other half of the fire team commences assault on the NVA distracted by the smoke, the Sgt's squad cresting the buildings on the East side of the gunner nest, and beginning to open fire on the combat shocked Vietnamese from an alley way, T-boning them with their crossfire, Vietnamese screams filling the air as they try and fire back with their AK's in vane at the surprise attack.

>The firefight raged for a solid 3 minutes, the smell of gunpowder filling the air, shouts of communication in both languages filling the air under the gunfire.

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>>31554152
you on a roll now? i have some PTRS in the works. want me to wait for you, or do i kinda just join the slugfest?

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>>31554152

>The NVA fire off in full auto as best they can, the survivors of the initial attack working to swing around the MG's, managing to get a few rounds off the belt of an SG-43 before an M61 Frag bounced into their sandbag cover, thrown by someone in Bravo squad, the blast sending an arm and the tattered bloody sleeve attached to it flying through the air, landing in the middle of the street, the fingers twitching faintly, screams of agony wofting out from inside the sandbag gunner position.

>The smell of cordite and blood mixed with the scent of gunpowder now...burning blood to be exact, Burton and his squad pushing out of their cover and toward the foxholes.

>An arm suddenly shot out of a lower position in the foxhole, firing a Tokarev wildly in the general direction of the approaching G.I.'s, the desperation cry of a lone soldier filling the air over his rapid firing.

>Sgt. Burton was just outside of the cone of fire, several of the bullets whizzing by Walker and Hayes, a stout man in Bravo squad, one of the pistol rounds slamming into the flashlight on Guererra's shoulder, shattering the lens and nearly tearing it off of his body, with a grunt Burton kicked the man's wrist and stuck the muzzle of his rifle roughly where the owner of the arm would be, through the firing port, ripping six rounds of full auto with the battle rifle into the Vietnamese's cover, the screech of pain followed by a death gurgle a decent indication of a kill.

>A couple of the Sgt's squad drop inside to find several NVA bleeding out on top of their AK's, the hot barrels boiling the blood running out on top of them, dust and smoke filling the inside, barely enough light to see anything in the dark hole, the stink of fresh death emanating from the prospective machine gunner position, Walker climbing back out. "It's a fuckin' doozey in there, boys. That grenade done ripped em all to hell." He spoke, Walker always the first do dive into a strange hole, crazy little bastard.

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>>31554186
Nah, I think I'm stopping here for tonight, I'm dead tired!

Carry on my friend, I'll look forward to reading what you add on when I wake up.

>"but i really need to sleep now"
w-wait here, i'll make things right for you
>Annie was clearly unhappy with the thought of you not being comfortable
>True to her nature, she assumed control of the situation
You two, make the bed, now
>fox/cat-girl ran into your bedroom. She was dressed in those really short gym shorts, and one of your (much to big) T-shirts. Then again, this is a saturday morning, and she was found disassembled next to an AR. Somehow her tail was one of the least confusing things you had to deal with this night, and you were really beyond giving a fuck at this point. But it was cute.
>speaking about AR, She looked really... average. Alright, she did have freckles and a a cute nose. But while definitely not ugly, she really wasn't the girl you looked twice at. Kinda plain clothing, gray cargo pants and a grey tank top. She hurried off with the Cat/fox rifle...girl? aww man this is confusing. Until today, you didn't even know that anyone of your guns did this. And now all of them?

>"when you say "make things right" does that include for feeding me alcohol and pinning me to a bed? because i'm really tired now"
and you are going to stop m- oh nononono, please it was bad joke, i am sorry. But i will get you washed up, while they make your bed!
>"i thought i was supposed to clean you?"
normally, yes. But you cleaned up all house after us misbehaving. so i will wash you now
>"sure. Just lemme get some of that chocolate cereal first, alright?"
anything you want

>>31554186
is that a sawn off anti tank rifle?

>>31554237
no, the PTRS has a detachable barrel. Actually, it would almost be considered "quick change". alright, maybe not, but you can detach it if your going in a vehicle or a building or any other place where a 7 foot rifle is a bit unwieldy

you can also look at this
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p8Z-UvT68Vw

>>31553248
>>old man wakes up.
>>puts on his old clothes.
>>his old dog is with him.
>>gets his old hunting shotgun.
>>the old man hunts on the old grounds.
>>eye sight is poor, athritis in his hands and ringing in his ear.
>>he remember all the old battles, all the old friends while out on the old grounds.
>>his old hands remember how to act.
>>he eats rabbit that night with the old dog.
>>the old hunting shotgun watches the old man.
>>the old man looks in the mirror and asks when he got so old.
>>the young reflection of the old man in the mirror says when you survived.
>>He did not dream that night.

dumb and repetitious i know, something i thought up

>yes, the cereal are delicious, but you still didn’t understand what they were doing on a table that could have been strip, drink and some kind of wierd ammo poker
>the more you think about it, the more you really want to join their next party, because you really want to know some things
>what was with the half gallon of gun lube on the coffee table and all AR parts?
>why was the mini 14’s barrel lodged stuck inside the Mossbergs “magwell”
>and what matter of unholy buisniess went down between the K98 and the SKS, because they were once again, drenched in oil
>you are interupted in your thinking by the very a unfomfortable situation. Your bowl is empty
do you want more?
>Annie has entered full on maid-mode, something she’s been doing a lot lately. She is really happy in human form, and spends very little time as a rifle, because well, 14.5 is a bitch to get your hands on
>”Annie, i really like that you care for me, but i can really get my own cereal”
Yes, but because you have a woman in house, who loves you very much, you don’t have to!
>”what’s next, are you going to feed me aswell?”
i could if you wanted to
>”don’t worry, i have figure out how spoons work by now”
>you finish you meal, and as soon as Annie sees the first sign of you being done, she picks you up and heads of to the bathroom with you
p-please dont make this indecent. It should only be done in bedroom you know
>she didn’t like being cleaned on the kitchen table. At all. She was a bit old fashioned in that sense

>“i’ll… uhh, try…” you manage to say, as the shirt she is taking off stretches just a bit
>this was an operation doomed to fail from the start. No clothes, all that water and soap, and her rubbing you clean, and by god was she through.
>even if she was honestly just trying to clean you, she had a gorgeous figure, with smooth, pale skin and it’s not like you could keep your eyes close
>besides, you back got often in contact with two big, warm and soft things a lot, You liked these things a lot, and had grown very fond of them
>this triggered an obvious reaction from lower deck, and Annie, who was thankful for any form of appreciation let curiosity get the better of her
>her chest was now pressed against your back, and her arms gripping round your stomach.
>She maneuvers herself with her back against a the corner in the shower, and you feel her left arm moving downwards slightly
>”i thought you said this was bedroom stuff?”
the door is locked
>did she just giggle?
>her left hand is now exploring your rack hard member, as her right arm still holds you in place
>there is no sound except for the pouring water hitting the tiles on the floor
>and your heavy breathing
>climax, exhausting and sleep deprivation is starting to take its toll, and you are getting slightly weak in your knees
>Annie notices this, turns you around and holds you up
I will always take care of you Anon! because i love you!
>you say nothing, and just hug back
>damnit you were not supposed to lewd raifu

>this time, you actually clean each other off
>you help Annie to dry her long, black hair, but start to feel you eyelids get really heavy
come here, that can be a problem for another time.
>She once again picks you up, and carry you over to the bed
>the bed is now very nicely made, new sheets and everything, and so soft
>the corner is folded over, and she puts you down, and tucks you in
>after that, go around, making sure all blinds are down, because of the daylight. She wants you to be able to rest, after all
>”thanks Annie. You’re the best”
>she blushes a bit
d-do you need anything to sleep on?
>just as as she finished that sentence, she inhales deeply, expanding her chest just a little bit more
>to a normal girl, this would be a non-issue
>however, because of Annies build, the towels you have cant are not wide enough to cover all honest parts of her
n-no, i mean just sleeping! but with more soft. I can go if you want to!
>”no, i dont want you to go away. Come here, can’t really be too soft anway”
>Her eyes light up againas she slips under the cover
>she moves you around, and you once again find yourself in what would normally be the girls position
>Annie lies on her back, and you next to her, on you side with your face dug in by her shoulder
>Yeah, this felt a little uncomfortable to you at first, but the sheer amount of comfy and softness was eaily worth it
>her arms finally wraps around you, forcing you a little bit closer to her
>she bends her hed a little, and kisses you on your hair
We will invite you to next party. I promise
>but you were already asleep

>>31554453
This is nice.

>>31554956
i tried to do a little bit of comfy

>>31554972
It's definitely showing. Can't help but feel your story would be getting more attention in the /ak/ thread though.

>>31555001
i'm... not sure they want me there, though

>>31555008
Lurking both. I'd say screencap this one and be willing to post it there.
Also you're the best WF we got going on right now desu.

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>>31555027
>Also you're the best WF we got going on right now desu

awww...

also, there is someone doing a cap of the PTRS story so far. But sure, i can cap these and see if i can puzzle them together or something. But i think i'll post in the next /ak/ thread, the one up now is kinda dying

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well, hello guys. Think things have un-tanked themselves enough for some JT?

>>31555008
Correction- six whole people don't want you there. There was a poll done and the overwhelming majority said raifu writefagging belongs in /ak/. I'd say take the bits you posted in the /wfg/'s and re-post them there before continuing. It'll give you a chance to revise them as well.

>>31555094

Go for it. Do you have the last thread pastebinned? I need to catch up on it.

>>31554186
>sawn-off AT rifle

I never knew I could get so erect.

>>31555133
two first threads are binned in the previous OP, i don't think the previous thread is pastebinned anywhere.

Last thread is still up though, and i namefagged all the way through it, so it won't be too hard to find the posts

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>>31553248
Got the Boston's Gun Bible up for grans everyone, feel free to get yourself a copy.

https://mega.nz/#!XMtChKbB!nYf9O7mnuIbH38cOWCV4rJqG_RdCS-OdmzjPGtu07ns

>>31555188
t-tight groupings...

>>31555183
Please continue mate, otherwise how will I know what happens to obvious best waifu lily? I need this story man.

>>31555206

The tightest

>>31555008
Why not just post in both? Maximize readers that way

“good morning, Natalya, Miranda. seems you’re in a rush”
¤ rush is perhaps not the best term. But we may have found a way to get little girl more missiles
“well, that’s great news then”
+i-it’s not that simple because we spoke to the Sheridan council, and many other decommissioned tanks, and then there is the block-
“you’re getting ahead of yourself Miranda. Calm down, please. Can you give me a short version of this?”

Miranda starts another torrent of words, and is finally halted by Natalya

¤ Da. We have to drive, but in “non-militairy” vehicles and get missiles
“But those are pretty big missiles, arn’t they?”
+45 inches long, 6 inch diameter and about 60 pounds each!
“shit. They count all trucks and SUVs as militairy, don’t they?”
>yep. we’re going to need something more inconspicious if we’re going to get through the roadblocks
¤ we have scouted their vehicle hall, and found two suitable!
“just hang on a second here. We have to find a car, with a big enough trunk to carry the missiles internally, so they cant be seen through the windows, and not being an SUV because they are somehow “potentially military vehicles” now?”
>seems to be the case. i mean, a fleet of civilian 4x4s are apparently great for logistics
“and we still have to be able to outrun a normal truck that they may have taken in possession. So nothing too slow, and no Vans. But Natalya, you have found two cars that can do this?”
¤ Yes. Should we go see them now?

You think for a second

“done eating, Lily?”
>sure

You head off to the smaller garages. There is actually a lot of cars here, including one that looks painfully similar to your baby. Natalya walks over to a grey Wagon.

¤ this is first car, we have checked dimentions in boot space, missiles will fit in. We need a total of sixteen to fill the starship…

Miranda gets slightly nervous she said that

>>31555236
¤...so, eight in this will not be a problem

The car itself was a silver-gray Mercedes E500 Estate. Big 5 liter V8, over 300 horsepower. Made in the mid noughties, most likely. It even appears it’s been well taken care off.

“that’s… actually impressive. Never thought you’d find a car like this out here
¤ you will like next car, Anon! it’s a bit like the one you had when you met Lily!
Before the challen- augh, come on. In front of you, is the second car. It’s a FWD wagon from the mid nineties. It is painted in a very strange light yellow color, and has “Volvo” written in small letters in the front grille. Great...Actually, those five spoke rims… after a bit of looking around the car, it is revealed that it is in fact an 850R and is to everyone surprise not that much less powerful than the Mercedes, putting out 250hp.

“alright, we have two cars that… maybe are up to the task in hand, but im still not sure what the actual plan is”

Natalya explains that the plan of old was when the massed attack of sky-creatures came, these abandoned tanks would be freed with your help, and the ones that were combat capable was to be rushed to the battle. However, Natalya (who seems to have a big fondness with radios) has contacted this “council of Sheridans” that is basically an old scrapheap, since the army hs pretty much given up on them. But since they are officially in storage, there is still ammunition close by. The sad news Natalya got was that very few of them were actually ready for a fight. And not a single vehicle had a crew. So maybe they wouldn't mind us borrowing a few shillelaghs? Only way to find out is to ask

>>31555248
So, with the cars ticked off the list, you need a plan. But to make the perfect plan you need a good place to come up with a plan

You like this. A dark room located just under the infirmary, in the basement. And just by ooking at it, it's kinda obvious no one really goes here. a low, almost flickering light, a large map placed on the table, and lots of thought flying around. Lots of planning and working out solutions. And coffee. Feels like you’re a real operator

¤ Right, we are… Here.

Natalya places a tack on the north-west part of the map

>And we’re going over here

Lily mars the spot on the map with another tack

“right, that makes it… 250 miles or something like that?”
>please use kilometers, miles confuse me
“augh, about 400”
>okay, 400 if we use the interstate. Buuut, it’s bound to be littered with things we don't want to run into
+ So we can’t use the big roads?
“Well, yes we can, but only on certain parts. Sure the cars are faster than a humvee, but not faster than bullets, or helicopters”

A route is plotted. It will extend the distance to over 300 miles, but it should be a lot safer. However…

“Alright. So, all things considered, this is the best route?”
+ It will stay away from the bigger cities, go at a safe distance from the airport, and we will have some cover from the forest up here, right?
“right. But we still have to deal with the interstate crossing, and i can guarantee they will have a checkpoint there. And not like “oh, you’re driving a wagon, so no need to check you for stolen military equipment”. We will get caught if they check our cars
¤ So we can’t find another road?
“Not unless we want to get into another city, no”
+ This is unfair, they army doesn’t need the missiles anymore! I do!
“i’d love to see you try explain tank-girls to a private that has to stand and guard shit all night”

Just as you said “Tank-girls” all of them turned to you, and stared at you as if had insulted their ancestors and all, as a quire, screamed

DON’T CALL US THAT

Even if it appeared Lily wasn’t exactly happy with screaming at you, Natalya and Miranda were very displeased with the name given to them

“alright, sorry, but i’m still not sure what i should call… you”

¤ Perhaps your loved one will share that with you one day, but for now, we are only tank crews. Friends maybe. But we do not want any more attention than necessary drawn to ourselves

“Tankfu?” you think to yourself. It sounds really cute, but will result in you getting beaten to shit

>seriously, we still have to find a good route. We will get arrested if we go through the checkpoint, and i’m not really happy about driving through a large city with like.... 400.000 dollars worth of stolen army material
¤ This crossroad is the problem. If we can just get through that, we will be fine
>but we caaaaan’t! we’ve looked over this ten times, it’s either the crossroad or the city!
“fuck, those are both death sentences”
+ It can’t be that bad, can it?
“we are still civilians… augh, i am, at least. And we are stealing army equipment, obsolete or not. I’d guess we will get killed if we caught”

‘Stealing army equipment, huh?’

Fuck. You did not recognize the voice. You know your little pistol, you can turn around, get that up and ready to shoot within.... one and a half seconds. Maybe two on a bad day

‘Can i join?’

Is there any interest for a C7/C9 writefag? And does anyone have the pastebin or screencap of C8 fag's stories?

Just curious

>>31555324
do it

>>31555236
Why is the military a problem? Aren't they the military?
Are they afraid getting ambushed by redneck militias or nigging noggers?

>>31555445
They are not actual Military, but rather some PMC/ armed resistance group crossover.

They army does however step in and help at times, and vice versa when needed

Jeez this is shitty, but ah well, most of you are gun fugging Philistines so whatever.

It was February 6th, 1969
John was being deployed into Vietnam.
He was terrified, more so than other conscripts because John was different.
John could remember things hadn't happened yet, things from nearly 50 years in the future.
Middle eastern countries terrorizing the united states, the USSR being a distant memory, race relations doing a 180, computers that could fit in your pocket, plans to colonize Mars...
The future was bright, but his present was dark.
It was almost as if he lived the life of someone else in his sleep, he could see what they saw, hear what they heard, feel as they do, and he suspected it was a two way street.
He knew how this "engagement" was going to go.
He knew that once Nixon was in office, he would force a full fledged withdrawal, even abandoning POW and MIA personnel, coward that he is.
But could he survive that long?
Could he survive until the war was over?
He chose not to think about that, or talk about it. As he did about his visions of the future.
He didn't want to be section 8'ed and remembered as a madman.
He wanted only to survive this war, and watch his preparations come to fruition.
Seeing the future have some big benefits. He knew which companies were going to pay off later, he knew which boxers were going to pull an upset win, he knew which presidents were going to win even.
He stood to have a very comfortable life should he survive this horrible, prolonged fight.
But that was only 4 years.
He could survive that. He would survive that.

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2 weeks later

John had already died. John wasn't strong enough to survive this hellhole.
The man who had inherited his body, his mind and his training... that man was named Ace.
Ace was conceived at a shooting match with his platoon where he center shot a playing card at 500 feet on the first go.
It happened to be the ace of spades.
John had been proud, but remained composed.
Eventually though, John realized that he wasn't strong enough to survive this war.
That was when ace took over.

Now Ace had to buckle in. There were Charlies all over, and he could already smell them... crawling all over like dirty spiders. Full of death and poisons, waiting to ambush any and all Americans that they can.

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This was the worst part. He knew Charlie was close, but he can't do anything about it. He can't open fire or he'll... He'll... "DOWN!" He screamed a fraction of a second before the gooks opened fire, but that was enough for most of his squad. They were in a bad position, but they were ready to fight. Ace fired in short bursts, taking a life every 5 rounds or so, mostly to tear them up to frighten the others off. From the bloody screaming corpses that didn't know that they were already dead.
That was when the LAW tube full of grenades swung overhead, pins and levers detaching as they exit the tube. There was no time to speak, nor even to think. There was only time to gather the grenades together, jump atop them and-

Micheal awoke with shooting pain all over his body, already fading but still intense.
He groaned and held his stomache, but as soon as the pain was manageable he moved with shocking speed. He grabbed a notepad and quickly started writing. Bank accounts, access codes, locations of safety deposit boxes and keys. He knew there was a lot of money at play. He knew that John... or actually Ace's, preparations were his now. And he could feel something else too. A bit, even if just a tiny piece, of Ace was inside him. A strength he could use when he needed it, a skill unearned yet inexplicably there, a motivation unmatched by anyone else.

Micheal was going to have a lot of resources and drive. The future could be as he wanted it to be. And it would be.

>>31555412
I was planning on doing a C7, C8 and C9 series, however I'm not sure if C8 fag did one on the C8 yet and I want to see if my idea will work out.

Either way I'm sick today so I might have some time to do it.

May continue the story of Mike the insanely skilled, insanely rich, insanely insane reincarnated Nam vet if anyone still it despite me writing it at 0600.

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>>31554228
>>31554233

Highest quality writefagging, I swear.
You make combat both clear but visceral and crazy as well.

You should feel really proud, it's hard to do.

Shit, I'm going to be out for a while Hospital, as it turns out

>>31555556
Sure, I'm interested. More writing, the better.

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posting the pastebins of JTfag stories from previous threads for posterity

Part 1: http://pastebin.com/EUTCq0YN
Part 2: http://pastebin.com/SAnTqTAc
Part 3: http://pastebin.com/MV6jhiYk

As a note, to all people writefagging, please put your stuff into pastebins from here on out, and I'll go through each thread afterwards and feature them as highlights. That way it should offer attention to all.

Sound good?

>>31556758
Getting the cast off?

>>31556796
...no, not as such, i'm throwing up blood and got really scared. ambulance here soon i think

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>>31556842
Holy fuck.

Uh, stay alive, okay? At least a few of your devoted readers would miss you.

>>31556842

You need to find your tank body and reconnect with it.

>>31556842
Pls don't die until you finish the story.

>>31556842
BEGIN EMERGENCY REPAIRS

>>31556842
Just as you wrote about fixing waifus, I hope you get your own waifu to sit by you and fix you.

God speed, anon.

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>>31556842
god speed m8

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>>31552952
Gonna make one more case for civil war writing/raifus.

Just give this a listen and tell me it doesn't inspire something:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fY1lmeL22jg

>>31556915

JTs writefaggotry is actually her own life's story before she stepped through the dimentional rift.

>>31557099
i'm not even sure what you are implying right now

>>31557064
huh, tells me that vid is unavailable

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>>31557180
Try this
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O0C-euAyCTU

>>31557261
feels o'clock, is it?

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w-whats going on in here?

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>>31556842

NYET COMRADE, COMBAT MEDIC EN ROUTE

They will give you Motrin and tell you to stop being such a pussy

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>>31558019
Writefagging, dying, and feels.

>>31555248
i have a volvo 850 glt, fast as a motherfucker my dude

>>31556842
Esophageal varices are a bitch.

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>>31559212
>Esophageal Varices
He'll be fine with proper treatment. Rubber banding, or medication through injection or IV is the end result

from JT story pastebin #3

>Lily is sitting in the gunners seat, bent over. Her left hand pushes hard against her stomach, and her right is trying to hide the blood she is coughing up

that was written like, a day or two ago?

i am concerned

>>31555556
HOLY SHIT THESE REPEATING NUMBERS

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>>31554283
Its good shit but fuck you for makimg me feel things

>>31560020
looks a lot like off by one in my eyes

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I've got some 40k related writefaggotry:

http://pastebin.com/HiqBTsT9

The setting is basically a crusade going tits-up & attrition more-or-less causes a need for desperation. For the Ancient Greek Influence, well, I will eventually get to drawfagging how their armor looks, just consult the picture for spear/armor aesthetics getting slapped onto some pre-heresy/great-crusade era power armor.

Posting something I saved some months back during one of those "mods are asleep post spoops" threads

http://pastebin.com/43gfWSPf

It's about /k/ommandos removing supernatural kebab in the dark ages. I don't think the original author ever followed up on it.

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>>31554235
There a pastebin or screencap of PTRS story up to this point? I'm a bit behind

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>>31560915
here is first part, give me 5 min and i'll make a pastebin of the second part

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>>31560973
thanks broseph

>>31561015
And here is second part

>>31561152

But where?

>>31561162
shit forgot link
http://pastebin.com/fJwM29Tz

>>31560700
>of exacting the Stormlord’s will with .70 caliber impetus.

God damn I love 40k. Great stuff.

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>>31561194
For the Emperor!

(The Space Marine Legion involved follows the Space Wolf/Black Templar size-exception rules. So, great crusade era/Pre-heresy tier tech development going another direction due to isolation)

has anybody pastebined the first part or everybody is okay with the screencap?
>>31560700
dam somebody did their homework with this man >nextchapter when/10

>>31561392

Next chapter? Yes indeed.

http://pastebin.com/9ifvW305

>>31556842
> i'm throwing up blood and got really scared.

Less bourbon, more beer.

Finally getting started on that MGSV story. I'll probably have a part finished up enough to post here in a couple of hours. Should I get a tripcode for when I post it?

What is the preferred method of posting longer stories: Pastebin, or breaking it down into individual posts? I'd like to contribute some writefaggotry, but I'm not sure which would be the better format.

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>>31562024
Do whatever you commie. We're not your fucking dad.

>>31562090
Individual post or if its THAT long pastebin

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>>31552243

(Part 3 of Korea. Hope you all are enjoying)

Your gaze breaks away from the menacing Garand and you see the outline of a man in the corner, fiddling with a radio set on top of some empty crates. He glances at you, and you can just barely see him in the gloom.

He turns and stares at you, arms crossed, not saying a word. He's eerily similar to the Garand who's still leaning against the wall. "Like rifle, like owner" you think to yourself.

The silent, shadowy Marine speaks up before you can. "You here for those batteries?" He brings a cigarette to his mouth, and the quick flash of the lighter illuminates his scarred and rough looking face.

"Yes sir." You pat the satchel at your side. He motions come hither with his hand. "Well, bring 'em over, and help me with th' damn thing." He speaks through the cigarette jutting out of his mouth, ash falling from the tip as his lips move.

You place the satchel by the radio and dig out a battery. "Curren' one ain't dead, but 's a little close for comfort, and I don't want it to go cold on me in a pinch."

You nod and help him take out the battery, replacing it with a fresh one. He growls some more at you as you work. "You got a name, son?"

(I kinda wanna give the character a name, even though its a self insert type of thing. I might just change it to third person and rewrite the first two chapters. Should I?)

>>31562161
We probably would not have even noticed if you'd done the self-insert path if you hadn't just said it now.

>>31562161
Yo m8, have you pastebined that as a back up or should i?

>>31562416
also what this anon said man

>>31562424
I have not pastebinned it, but I have written other chapters and have them saved elsewhere. I'll get that done right away.

>>31562416
I'm having a rare bout of autism and can't seem to understand what you mean. I didn't want to name him Private Anon, but also didn't want him to be named as that would kind of confuse things.

In general, any raifus you guys are looking to see? The story will center around the Corporal, the Private, and their respective Garands, but I've already included passing references to Thompsons, and Ma Deuce's thicc ass. What else do you wanna see?

>>31562515
Gimme sum o' dat captured Chink SKS pussi

>>31562424

Its done. http://pastebin.com/w2vnnieQ

>>31562675
>http://pastebin.com/w2vnnieQ

Thanks m8

>>31562665
Sounds good to me

>>31562707
Np lad

Testing a trip.

>>31563599
lol

>>31563616
Once more with feeling.

>>31563616
>>31563621
>>31563599
test it on /trash/ or somewhere else, no offense.

>>31563680
No name field on /trash/ or /b/.

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Hey all, Posting back to continue with my rolling shit show, hope you guys enjoy.

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Northern Kabul, Afghanistan - 1930 hours

The sound of distant helicopter blades beating the air reverberated off jagged cliff faces and down the narrow canyons between them. The faint thumping faded away by degrees, and was replaced with thumping of a different sort. A white horse was barreling down one of the winding little roads in the bottom of one of the many canyons scarring the land. Mounted on the saddle atop its back was a woman, dressed in a baggy camouflage BDU. A set of night vision goggles were secured to her face, allowing her to navigate the perilous trail at a full clip. On her ears she had a pair of headphones, hooked up to a small device on her hip.

“Bum-bum-bum, da-dum-dum, da-bum-bum… bum-bum-bum, da-dum-dum, da-bum-bum…”

She quietly sang along to the tune in her headphones, as she expertly guided the horse through the near total blackness of the canyon road, through the little twists and turns, avoiding potholes and other assorted footfalls typical of unpaved roads in war-torn nations. The horse continued on at a full gallop the whole time, seeming to trust the woman to keep it on steady footing.

“She’ll only come out at night… the lean and hungry type...”

Eventually, the cliffs tapered off and opened up into a valley. The woman pulled back on the horse’s reins, and the beast slowed down to a trot. She directed it to stop at the top of a large sand dune. She pulled her night vision goggles off of her head; she didn’t need them anymore, anyway. The moon was full and bright, and cast a pale blue light on everything. It was just enough to provide decent visibility for the naked eye. She took a moment to fix her ponytail, as the goggles’ harness had pulled it loose, then reached into her pack to pull out a monocular, putting it up to her right eye.

“Oooh-ooh here she comes… watch out boy, she’ll chew you up…”

>>31563869
Oop, actually I'll wait, it's probably better someone get their story established before I cut in.

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Down below at the foot of the dune, there lay a village. It was nothing special, just a loose cluster of shoddily constructed huts. The interesting part was that it had been converted into an outpost for the Soviets, and soldiers patrolled around the perimeter. They had no idea she was sitting there, watching them. She reckoned she could probably kill them all from this distance with none of them ever being the wiser. But lucky for them, she wasn’t here to do that. She was here not as an assassin, but more as a talent scout, looking for one soldier in particular who was rumored to be particularly good at his job. She scouted among the ranks for a short while, until she fixated upon a face that appeared vaguely familiar. She fished a small polaroid out of her pocket and compared it to what she saw. She smirked as she recognized the man as her quarry. Stowing her monocular, she lightly kicked the horse in its sides, setting it back into a trot in the direction of the village.

“Oooh-ooh here she comes… she’s a maneater…”

She was able to get within 50 meters of the village unseen, and decided not to test her luck. Guiding the horse behind a large rock, she dismounted and made her way closer on foot. The Soviets remained oblivious to her presence as she snuck up around their flank, her footsteps utterly silent on the loose desert sand. Coming up to the wall of a partially collapsed hut, she leaned against it and listened, trying to make out where the patrols had moved to in the interim. She peeked around the corner, and quickly pulled her head back, and tried to flatten herself against the wall as much as possible. Not a moment later, a pair of soldiers strolled right past her, idly chatting about something, too enthralled in their little conversation to notice the heavily armed woman a mere meter away from them. She didn’t even dare to breathe.

>>31563897
Implying something?
The threads are supposed to be a fustercluck, it's not like people can't scroll up if they want to see his story.

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>>31563935
I'm fine with waiting until he's ready for a break?

I wasn't implying anything.

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After a minute more of chatter, they turned around and went back the way they came. The woman slowly let her breath out and continued on, crawling on her belly now. It was slow going, but she eventually sighted her quarry again, on the other side of the outpost.

He had his back to her, and was looking out on the endless sea of sand bathed in the pale moonlight. Moreover, he was alone. She crawled up to him, slithering silently through the sand like a deadly serpent, ready to strike at him. She considered him lucky, in that she needed him alive. She chuckled.

He heard her.

He spun around and saw her lying belly down in the sand, and stood in shock for a moment. She sprang up and lunged at him, as he brought his rifle to bear. She swatted the barrel away, but he was already pulling the trigger, and the burst of fire caught the attention of the entire outpost.

Grabbing him roughly by his uniform’s collar, she kneed him in the gut, and swept his feet out from under him, slamming him into the ground and knocking him out cold. She had no time to admire her handiwork as the Soviets closed in around her. She dove behind some sandbags and unslung her rifle from her shoulder. It was clear that the element of surprise no longer applied.

The soldiers were conscripts, poorly trained, and it showed. Two of them immediately charged her position, firing wildly and shouting. She put them both down with two controlled bursts. The remainder were at least smart enough to grab some cover. They dumped their magazines in her direction with reckless abandon, blind firing from concealment. She hit the deck, minimizing her profile as much as she could. The bullets ripped through the sandbags, covering her with their freshly liberated contents.

I doubt anyone cares, but I'm still writing, now solely for my own circle.

DTHW 7.5 is coming along very well.

That is all.

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The gunfire started to taper off, and one of the officers started barking orders. Two more conscripts approached her position, but this time they hugged the wall of a nearby hut and assumed low, wary stances. As they stepped over the body of one of their fallen comrades, a small object came flying through the air, landing at their feet with a dull thud. They knew instinctively what it was, but they had no time to react as the grenade peppered their bodies with shrapnel and broke their bones with the concussion.

The Soviets opened fire once more, expending their magazines with suppressing fire. Their numbers had been reduced by a third by a single attacker, and they weren’t about to take anymore chances. They had no way of knowing that their attacker had already changed positions, and they were wasting their ammo shooting at ghosts.

She flanked around the village, using the huts as concealment, tossing grenades wherever the soldiers clustered together.

The rest of the battle didn’t last long.

Within a few short minutes, the remainder of the garrison had been killed, and the triumphant woman made her way back to her original position to recover her quarry. She wasn’t too bothered by how this had turned out. Stealth was never her strong suit, anyway. Who cared, though, as long as she got results?

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She picked her way through the carnage, mentally patting herself on the back the whole way. But when she reached her original position, she felt her stomach churn a bit. Her smug self-satisfaction went out the window.

“Ah… shit…”

He was stone dead. His body was full of bullet holes and shrapnel. Perhaps she had been a bit too liberal with her application of fragmentary explosive devices. Perhaps she should have thrown him behind the sandbags with her so his comrades wouldn’t have shot him up with their panic fire. Either way, the man she was supposed to bring in alive, the man whose survival she’d been explicitly instructed to prioritize…

One thing was for sure.

The Boss was not going to be happy.

Alright, done for now. Was just sorta testing out the idea. I'll flesh it out more later if people don't think it's too terrible.

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>>31564323
Very nice job! I like it a lot, I do hope you continue on with the idea. Your writing style is very detailed and clear, but a word of advice, maybe quote yourself so the posts are easier to locate if someone's deciding to post at the same time as you.

But with that, I suppose I'll continue with my 'Nam story now if any of you lurking the threads are interested.

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>>31554228

"Alright saddle up, we've got to clear the rest of these buildings and link with Fire team Delta."

>Burton hoists his M-14 up, carrying it closely, the group of men beginning to fan out, clearing the buildings one by one, encountering light resistance in each of them, a few NVA hunkering down in various rooms, getting shredded up by the G.I.'s as they swarm the town, eventually coming to the largest building, the doors removed from their hinges on this particular one, some kind of community center, Burton leaning in.

>"DU MA NHIEU, G.I.!" Screaming from inside, an MG came alive with fire, 40 rounds spraying from the doorway, walking the string into the wall Burton was standing behind, the Sgt turning and running from the doorway, diving to the ground and covering his head as the bullets burst through the wall, the trails of the projectiles carrying the dust from the concrete behind them as they scream outward.

>Pvt. Black catching three of the rounds, two in his legs and one in his side, collapsing to the ground and screaming in agony.
>"I'M HIT I'M FUCKIN HIT!! FUCCK! FUUUCK!"

>Blood was gushing from his body as he desperately tried to put pressure on the wounds he could reach, blood soaking his hands and running out between his fingers.

>Walker immediately sprints into the line of fire, the MG still barking wildly as bullets continued flying through the air, impacting the building across the street, destroying a bench and turning the side of an old car into a cheese grater.

>Walker ducked as he ran, scrambling over and grabbing Black by his collar and dragging him across the street.

>"I gotcha man! I gotcha! y'aint dyin' out here brotha, c'mon!"

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>>31564371

>The skinny black private pulled the wounded man to safety, ducking as he moved, the hail of bullets whizzing by him.

>Burton collects his senses, standing off to the side and firing back at the machine gunner through the wall he had peppered with fire, the incoming fire pinning the gunner down as Carver and Ericsson burst through the door adjacent to the gunner's position, cutting him down with their M-16's as the Doc starts to attend to Pvt. Black.

"Stay with me buddy, You'll be fine! I gotcha, I gotcha..." Doc speaks comfortingly over Blacks screams of pain, Walker helping him apply pressure and a tourniquet.

>Burton steps into the community center once the machine gunner is taken care of, crossing the small barricade and approaching the Czech VZ 59, the body of the gunner laying there barely clinging to his life, blood bubbling from his lungs and mouth trying to suck in air, holes riddling his uniform from the small caliber bullets, Burton stepping over him and looking him in the eye, He couldn't have been any older than 17, his skin going pale, a cold sweat on his brow as he reaches up, his fingers brushing against the muzzle of the M-14 before it barks once, splitting his skull open against the tile floor, grey matter splattering the sandbags he as leaning on. The sound of a single spent case hitting the floor was the only sound audible for a moment.

>Burton sniffed and and joined up with Carver and Ericsson whom were about to push out of the lobby into the community center proper, Burton doing the honors of kicking this door, both of them swinging inwards as he and the two men rush into an auditorium, Full to the brim with the townspeople, A couple of NVA standing on the stage, six women in front of them, holding them hostage, one of the men behind the women an officer, holding a grenade over the women's heads, screaming in broken English.

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>>31564437
>"YOU SHOOT I DROP! I KILL THEM ALL G.I.! FUCK YOU! GO HOME!"

"What makes you think we give a fuck, gook?"

>Burton fired back an insult, taunting the cowardly officer. Of course he cared about the townspeople, but the Charlies didn't know that. For all they knew he could just have been another one of the crazy Americans that shot everything that moved.

"Go on. Fucking drop it. Save me the fucking effort! You fucking Cho 'De!"

>Burton turns, speaking lowly to Carver.

"Go get Stevens. That son of a bitch can hit a shithouse rat after dark from 200 yards with that Sixteen of his."

>"Sir."

>Carver nods and runs off, retrieving Stevens, the two entering as quietly as possible into the Mezzanine at the top right of the auditorium, Stevens taking aim, Burton doing his best to keep the attention of the two NVA.

"What are you going to do, dog fucker. You're fuckin' trapped in here. If you surrender we might take y'alive. I know you fucks know we don't torture like you do. What do you say?".

>Burton speaks up, making the officer scream again, lifting his hand with the grenade over the women's heads again as a threat.

>"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! I FUCKING KILL NOW!"

>The shot rang out, Stevens had taken his shot, the hand of the officer bursting along with the grenade, the fuse igniting, but with the damage to the grenade's body it let out a limp fizzle and "Pop" on the stage the officer's face contorting into agony as he let out a scream, his hand damn near totally blown away, his pinky barely hanging in place, placing him in a world of hurt before his demise.

>The women scrambled, running off the stage, opening up the two NVA to fire from Burton and Ericsson, both dropping dead on the stage, the impacts making them twist and 'dance' their blood pooling under them after they fell, the townspeople slowly beginning to stand once the NVA element is removed, speaking to themselves, families hugging each other.

>Burton shouted across the room.

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>>31564503

"Nice fucking shot Stevens!"

>"Thank ya, sarge!" He waved back, the two men stepped off the mezzanine and climb down, Burton and Carver walking around the auditorium and helping the civilians out of the room, a few of the G.I.'s taking the time to do the procedure of checking the townspeople for weapons, nobody turning up with anything, Burton calling out for Finny; the radio operator, Taking the handset and speaking into it.

"Delta Team, Delta team, this is Alpha One Actual, what's your status."

>A bit of static sounds before a panicked response comes back.

>"ALPHA ONE THIS IS DELTA, THE FUCKING GOOKS ARE CRUSHING US OUT HERE."

>The feed cuts for a second, the sounds of gunfire coming in over the radio, the muzzle reports sounding in the distance from the jungle about one Klick North.

>"--OUNDED! WE NEED SUPPORT! SAY AGAIN! NEED SUPPORT!"

"Roger that Delta, we're coming boys. Hold tight."

>"ROGER THAT! FUCKING GO--" The radio cuts again, the SGT in communication with Burton likely dropped his handset.

"Finny, get the LT on the line, tell him we need bodies to secure the rest of the town as well as med-evac for Black."

"Alpha Squad, Carver, Ericsson, Stevens, Fall in."

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>>31564548

>The Eight G.I.'s recuperating from the battle trot over, sweat running down their shirts, marking the necks and underarms, drinking down water from their Canteens.

>Finny shouting from the distance. "Five minutes to Med-Evac and support, Sir!" Burton pointing to him and nodding, letting him know he heard.

"Delta's getting fucked out there, boys. They need us now, and if we don't go they're all dead. Who's ready to save some asses?"

>The men shout their cry of "Oohrah!" A couple of them slapping their helmets as they do, it was unusual to see men so eager to throw themselves into the shit, Carver only watching after shouting, Burton's connection with the men under him unlike anything he'd seen, a small smile crossing his lips.

>"You like him a lot, don't you?" His rifle spoke to him, taking up the flank of the team moving to aid Delta.

>"Yeah...He's not like any other Sergeant we've been with. He gives a fuck about us Ellie, I think we'll make it out of here with him."

>He spoke hopefully, his hands holding her tightly.

>"I hope so..." She replies softly.

>The open rice paddies gave way to jungle, the newly formed Fire-Team bounding over fallen trees, whipping through the grasses and vegetation, Gunfire still raging in the distance as a pair of Huey's scream by over head toward the town they had just liberated.

>The gunfire was getting louder, but more sporadic as the group of seven men push into the brush, the sound of a grenade blowing drawing the attention of the men, the plume of dirt within line of sight, raining down into the foliage, Burton leading the way, running as fast as he can, surprising for someone of his height and build. He moved with a dutiful speed, as if he were running on flat land, pulling ahead of his men, unobstructed by the undergrowth on the jungle floor.

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>>31564654
>Eight G.I.'s
That's supposed to be seven, Continuity errors ahoy.
>
>
>The Sgt. sped along, widening the distance between him and his men, bounding over an American corpse, glancing back at it for a just a split second, he was dashing for the muzzle reports of the M-16's sounding a mere 100 meters away now and nothing would stop him, except for a few cracks from an AK, that is.

>Bullets whizzed by him and slammed into a tree right near the Sgt's head, splintering it and peppering him with the tree's flesh.

>He dropped and slid along the ground, the dirt kicking up behind him as he did so, he must have looked like Harmon Killebrew sliding in for home plate, the grass parting away from him as he popped up about six feet from the tree that got hit, firing a burst of 3 rounds in semi - auto, two meeting the Charlie that wore a leaf covered helmet, dropping him onto his back with their kinetic energy, His AK firing a few times on the way down.

>The pause for action allowed Burton's men to catch up, slowing to a jog and surveying the area for more threats as the Sgt. grunts and gets up to his feet, the sounds of the M-16's still rattling off every so often, the cracks of incoming overwhelming the claps of outgoing.

>The group moved together now, what remained of Delta team still locked in a vicious battle coming into view, only 5 of them left taking cover behind a large downed tree, a natural trench in the ground giving them enough cover to duck behind the tree's corpse with relative safety, occasionally firing up over top of the tree as best they can before superior firepower made them back off and hunker down again.

>Three of the five were wounded, One was still in fighting shape, doing his best despite the blood gushing from him, the other two were in critical condition, one barely conscious from shock, a wound in the middle of his chest, the other missing both of his legs at the knees, twitching as he gasped for air, pale as a sheet.

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>>31564766

And I think that's all for me tonight, guys.

I'll be back tomorrow with more, hope you like it!

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>>31564785

And here's the paste bin for everything up to this point.

http://pastebin.com/4rxQaX6P

Note the pastebin is a little tidier, allowing for cleaner descriptions without a character limit, so there's minor changes between the posts here and the writing there.

Guess I'll throw my shit at the wall and see if it sticks.
>my package came today
>the small cardboard box weighed a lot more than it looked
>take it inside my apartment and open it
>my knife slips easily through the tape
>packing peanuts fall to the floor
>so excited
>after all this time of collecting genuine HK parts, I finally have an HK bolt carrier group to drop into my PTR91
>maybe I can just build another with all the PTR spare parts...
>sit on the floor and take out the pins
>pull the stock off
>lower drops free
>charge the bolt and it falls out of the back
>put the HK bolt in and reassemble the rifle
>could probably count on one hand how many PTR parts are left on this gun
>still just got home from work so I gotta go to the bathroom
>leave the rifle in the living room
>finish up, zip up
>hungry
>on my way to the kitchen, see a girl in the living room slowly pushing herself upright
>"hey!"
>she reacts, trying to flee, but clumsily stumbles
>"who the hell are you!" some drunk chick probably
>she glares up at me, tears in her eyes like she hasn't slept in a week
>drugs maybe
>backstep toward the bedroom
>there's a pistol on the dresser
>"wo bin ich?!"
>I need to get to my pistol
>she screeches even louder "wo bin ich?!!"
>sounds like german
>she gives up trying to communicate and refocuses on escape

>>31565192
Cont.
>her legs plainly wobbly through the heavily starched olive drab uniform
>she can hardly move without toppling over
>the raven haired german girl resorts to crawling toward the door
>got my pistol
>GI M1911A1
>point the gun at where her shoulder blades should be
>"hey!!"
>she stops to look back towards me
>wild eyes
>"don't move. Who the hell are you?"
>the girl just stares at me
>her eyes dart toward the barrel, then back to me as if weighing her odds against a .45
>"Sie sind american?"
>i nod. I guess she asked if I was american.
>"yes I am American."
>now she looks like she's trying to write out math proofs in her head
>I realign my sights just to make sure they're on target
>15 feet away, she then asks "sprichst du deutsch?"
>I know rudimentary german, but don't speak it, "no" I answer
>"I know english" she offers, noticeably calmer
>why is that? Usually a .45 has the opposite of a calming effect
>i ask, "why are you here? ... in my apartment."
>she scootches back against the door and leans against it, knees to her chest, "I dont know."
>"are you drunk? High? Where did you come from?!"
>"I yam from Berlin."
>her accent creeping through is exotic to hear
>"I didn't ask that. How did you get in my apartment?"
>"I don't know!" Tears starting to form again.
>"okay well I'm going to call the police and have them pick you up 'n take you home."
>"nein! You can't call zhem! Zhey'll send me back to be destroyed!"

>>31565194
Cont.
>reaffirm my aim at her face, "what the fuck are you talking about?"
"When zhe Berlin wall fell, I vas vone zat vas no longer needed. After years of sitting in a varehouse, i vas taken to anozher vhere we vere lined up and stripped. Some vere crying; ozhers were silent. Zhey stripped me, and pulled me apart. I vas thrown into a pile of ozher naked broken bodies. I died zhere. At least I think."
>none of this makes any fucking sense
>she's got to be high
>start to pull out my phone
>"vhat is that!"
>"my phone. I'm calling the police."
>"vait! ahhh... vhat year ist it?"
>"2016." Dial 9...
>"I have been asleep since 1990. Please do not call zh polizei."
>she is really calm... and pretty to look at
>I got a .45
>put the phone down
>"you owe me some answers. How did you get in here?"
>she shakes her head, "i dont know. I woke up on zhe floor right zhere."
>She points at the empty spot
>where'd my rifle go?
>"What'd you do with my rifle?!!"
>point the pistol again right at her fucking face
>"i yam... your rifle."
>what?!
>i look hard at her
>she seems to be more interested in herself than me
>she starts poking at her body
>feeling it
>i have no idea what im watching
>"i yam in America?" She asks from out of the blue
>"yes"
>"my body ist different." She continues to feel herself, "my body ist different!"
>"what do you mean?"

>>31565201
Cont.
>"vell... for one... I have... boobies."
>she grabs them for emphasis
>"mein handguard was slim"
>long awkward silence
>"did you build me zhis vay?"
>what do I say?
>"you mean to tell me that you're really my rifle."
>"you americans really are stupid. Yes! Zhat's vhat I have been tell you zhis whole time!"
>oh my god...
>"vhat did you do to me?"
>perplexed I explain how I bought a PTR and gradually swapped in HK parts to it. When I got to the part about the bolt, she stopped me
>"zhat should have never happened... you must have got enough of mein original parts to bring me back"
>she places her hand over her head like she has a headache
>After more silence she asks for a parts list
>I tell her what parts are HK and which are still PTR
>it seems that her original finish was parkerized, giving her auburn hair
>now black
>she grew from a A cup to a 32C, something she seemed to be pleased with
>not everything was so cheery
>her full auto function was gone and her receiver was not stamped HK
>she would never feel passion or comfort ever again
>auto opened her emotions to the maximum allowing her feel deeply one way or another
>and the PTR receiver was like having dry skin
>all this discussion is exhausting
>"you must be hungry"
>she chirped back up
>"Ja"
>i dont know what she eats so i fix something bland
>"vhat ist this?"
>"grits. Let me know if it needs salt."
>she pokes at it with a fork, "vhat ist a grit?"
>laugh internally "its just ground up corn"
>she eats the whole bowl with no complaints
>clean up the kitchen and lock up
>im exhausted
>dark and getting close to midnight
>"hey I'm going to go to bed. Do you sleep?"
>"yes. I sleep."
>"well i got a bed and a recliner. You choose."
>"usually i sleep on a rack."
>this is no longer fun
>"look, I don't have a weapons rack here, so-"
>"it ist okay. I can sleep against a tree too!"
>well I'm not letting her sleep outside
>"k, well you just pick a corner in the house and sleep against that."

Been toying with writing a thing, came to a decent point to stop for now. Let me know if my style's okay or if it needs work.

I remember when the gun spirits first emerged. Hell, I remember the first one confirmed on /k/. There had been rumors before then, wild stories of rifles, pistols, firearms of every kind becoming human, but only a few believed; everyone else dismissed them as someone just fucking around, or some sort of weird viral marketing scheme. Some tried putting up pictures or videos, but it never was enough to convince everyone.

Until someone live streamed one.

I managed to catch wind of the stream before it got underway, thanks to a thread advertising it. I'll be honest, I was skeptical at the time, but all the same curious. It was one of the people who already came forward before, and they had a real treat of a weapon even if it hadn't had a soul. A Martini Henry, straight from the Zulu War--or so the claim went--in as pristine a condition as a rifle older than the modern car could be. He could have just shown the rifle to everyone and it would've been fantastic.

Anyway, that moment is forever seared into my mind. In one instant, there was a rifle. In the next, a dignified-looking woman wearing what I assume was the British uniform of the period. You know the one, red coat and all that. I'm not sure if it was just because of what was happening--I mean, showing your true nature for all the world to see has to be nerve-wracking--or if it was an artifact of 19th Century military posture, but it struck me how rigid she was, how concisely she answered any questions from the chat. Well, most questions. Some things she seemed reluctant to talk about, others she simply didn't know. Her time in service of the British Empire was touched on, and she confirmed she was not alone in her condition.

>>31565240
One that stood out to me was asked frequently. "Where did you come from?" She never dropped that stoic stance but I swear to you, for a moment I thought I saw a look of discomfort on her face.

"I woke up one day and realized I had a mind like yours. That is all." It was a very final answer, and yet it left me wondering if there was more to it. After all, it didn't exactly answer how a rifle came to have a sapient mind, and that wasn't even getting into the ability to manifest a human appearance. I wanted to poke further, and I could tell the rest of the chat did too, but the streamer decided it was enough for one session and bid everyone farewell.

Maybe some still refused to believe it, but that night /k/ was ablaze with the news. The gun spirits were real! There were more out there! I don't think any of us were looking at our weapons the same way.

After a while, I began to wonder. Did I have anything with a spirit, with a soul? I had hoped not. Back then, I didn't have a whole lot of free time, or at least free time usable for the outside world. Months between range trips were the norm, some rifles having not seen a target in years. Would they be upset? Would they resent me for leaving them in darkness? Would they hate me?

To tell the truth, I was terrified of finding out.

>will be making pastebin if story continues

>>31565247
I like where this is going

>>31565206
And I very much like where this is going

Also, anyone know anything about JT?

i'll write you a short one

For the second time in a few seconds, the little red needle bounces off the rev limiter. You slam on the brakes, and put the car in a tight right hand turn, leaving the parking lot, and let the little engine sing until 6500 and then give it third, out on the road. Right now, speed limits or general traffic rules bothers you very little 50 miles per hour 55-60 into fourth gear. You have to turn left in a large 4 way intersection, so you dab lightly on the brakes, and get back into third. The tires screech as they tell you how displeased they are with your driving. You manage to regain full control of the car, just as you are about to slam into an SUV, and you miss it with mere inches. Back up to the redline, and this time you actually nail the shift. Few blocks more, then right onto the highway, and just a couple of miles more

Ten minutes earlier, you sat in the office and doing your regular mundane stuff. Important papers, people calling, things to take care of. Not fun maybe, but it was okay. And it gave you money to feed your beloved old rifle. You were basically a couple now, as you helped her out of storage and misery, and she helped you out of a bad relationship. You never spoke during the day, but she rather waited at home for you. You didn't even bother locking her in nowadays. But today, she called you at work, with panic in her voice

>anon there is someone here, please get home, i think it's the girl you told me about she is screaming bad things, and that she wants to die and, and, and please come home now anon

You knew exactly what was happening. That was the girl you was helped you away from. You'd not seen her in a year, because she was crazy and wanted nothing to do with her. But you knew exactly what she was trying to do in your house

>>31565498
Back on the highway, the other cars just fly past you. You are firmly paced in the leftmost lane and scream past the other drivers. How fast was this. 100? you didn't dare look down. Your knuckles are white from the firm grip on your steering wheel and you are sweating, despite it only being April. After what seems to be an eternity, you find your off-ramp and dive into it with screaming tires. The road narrows, and you are stuck behind a big semi, and cant get past because of the incoming traffic. The desperation grips you tighter, and you start getting really scared. An opening in the road, and a gap a sober mind never would have attempted to overtake in presents itself. But the engine is in the torque band, and responds immediately and sends you past the big semi. The marginals were very bad, but you couldn't give less of a fuck right now. Back into your street, you hit the rev limiter one last time, before taking the car out of gear, and slamming the brakes. It stops somewhere your lawn, and you rush out of the vehicle without even turning off the engine. The window is broken, and there is some blood on it. You are so stressed that you fumble with the keys, and mess it up time after time. But you manage to calm yourself enough to get the door open at last.

"Sarah, are you here!?!"

no response

you rush to your room, this is where she would have hidd-

The door was forced open, anyone could see that

In the corner of you room, a your woman. ill fitting, worn and dirty clothes, and that one shirt you never took back from her. The wall behind her was painted red with what was the inside of her head five minutes ago. In her hands, is that beautiful red-brown wooded rifle that you have cared for so long, front end all drenched in blood. You pick it up, but it gets heavier in a second. She is crying. A lot. She tries to repeat sorry a hundred times. "i t-tried to jam b-but i couldn't. Are they going to take me away?"

You we're just a little too slow

>>31565577
Keep writing, anon. I'm interested.

>>31565622
i, uhh... kinda intended it to end there, just as a short

>>31562781
>>31562665

do captured rifles get uh... used?

>>31565498
>see first part
>while listening to eurobeat

BEAT OF THE RISING SUN

>>31565206
I liked it.

>>31565498
>>31565577
Makes me glad I've never fucked with crazy.

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>>31565498
>>31565577
Por que, anon. P-por que

>>31567282
d-did you like it?

>>31567448
I'm more than happy to pass on the title of feels writer, have at it you depressing son of a bitch.

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i'm kinda touched by so many actually giving a fuck about a stranger on the internet. Anyway, i'm back now might start typing again after i get something to drink

>>31567792
What was the reason for the hospital visit anyway?

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>>31567448
It was short and sweet, yet conveyed a multitude of emotions in so few words.

>>31567822

started throwing up blood, and got scared, went to hospital

long story short, probably Mallory-Weiss or more cancer

>>31567923
MORE cancer? Jesus christ

Cont.
>i punch out
>fucking tired
>maybe when I wake up, i find out I hallucinated the whole thing
>barely sleep
>keep thinking about it
>wake up exhausted
>notice the rifle on your way out of the bedroom
>leaned against the corner behind the door jam
>something I ate
>pour some cereal and milk
>mini wheats
>begin to eat
>hear a bump and a coo
>my blood runs cold
>look told the bedroom door
>sure enough, there she is again
>stretching
>can't help but notice her beasts press against the inside of her uniform
>"guten morgen..."
>stare back
>"yup it's morning."
>"you know, you never told me your name."
>"you can call me anon."
>she steps with her toes into the kitchen
>boots squeaking on the tile
>"anon, did you fix me any breakfast?"
>no
>"I just wanted to wait until you were awake"
>"hmm." She smiles but bares no teeth
>she knew the truth but was impressed with how smooth and quick it was covered up for the sake of politeness
>crafty germans and their space magic
>"hey, were you alive for your soldier?"
>she bursts out laughing
>"I yam sorry!" catching her breath "I juss never heard it spoken zhat vay."
>she paused and composed herself
>"I vas only alive, as you put it, for zhe soldier i vas issued to. I vas a tool, a possession, subservient to him."
>i shift my position, "so I take it, you did not enjoy your job."
>"mein job vas to serve mein country anon. I had no choice."
>there's a lot there that she's not telling me, but I won't pry first thing in the morning.
>"are there others like you?"
>"ja. You humans juss can not see zhem."
>"oka-"
>"you have several in your room."

>>31567448

you just accomplished more in two posts than most writefags accomplish in an entire thread.

>>31564909

Continue soon please. This is currently the most engaging story in either thread.

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>>31567923
>More cancer
>Broken arm
>Esophagal tears
Nigga Damn.

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>>31565247
Keep going you wonderful flying fag or just put it up on pastebin with the links in here

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>>31567923
Hope you get better anon, we love you bb <3

>>31567923
>More cancer

Jesus anon. I'm really sorry.

>>31568044
>"you have several in your room."

OH BABY

>>31568044
Please quote previous parts of your story. It gets a bit confusing without it.

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I suddenly want a story about a waffengiest that comes from a bolter

>>31569486
>>31568902
>>31568594

i've got through it once, and even if they had to carve a some shit out of me, i got out alive. besides, it's not sure it actually is cancer

>>31569539
FFS, I'd actually be interested in that one.

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>>31569539

That would be heretical.

>>31569539
>Gyrojet waffegeist
yes pls

>>31569539

wouldn't she basically be one of the Sisters of Battle then?

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>>31569539

>>31565398
>>31566379
>>31569506
>>31569531
Thanks guys but my computer just crashed and I lost all I wrote. Could be a good thing. It was turning very dark and sad

>>31568866
Keep your pants on Anon, I'll need to write up more when I get back to my computer. I have that as a teaser/testing the waters to see what everyone thinks of my writing.

Don't worry there will be more.

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We'd been told to write a surrealist piece the other day, Edited it a bit. Thought you might like it.

Mikhail's boots stood at attention, still drenched from last night; he would have no use for them now. Bartek chuckled a bit as he remembered just how heavy the rain was. It was only a few hours ago.

Mikhail was taking a piss outside of the shelter they had built. He'd forgotten to take an umbrella and he didn't have a big hat like Bartek. The camp leader told them time and again not to leave their shelter in case of rain. Mikhail didn't listen; he wasn't pissing himself because of what the camp leader told him to do.
When Bartek heard the thunder he knew the rain was coming. He tucked his head deep inside the shelter, burying it further between his legs with his big hat on. He completely forgot that Mikhail didn't have a big hat too. He was going to get soaked.
The first droplets of metal rain exploded across the field. Noone dared to go and grab Mikhail. Noone wanted to get wet tonight. The following morning, the camp leader and Bartek found Mikhail. Completely soaked, barely recognizable with the mud he'd fallen in. They took him back to the campsite and removed his boots, they were ruined now.

Bartek said goodbye to Mikhail, he was leaving soon. He knelt down to Mikhail's boot and polished a smatter of his blood off, before going to see his sergeant.

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>>31570224
you have more to post i guess? i'll wait a few minutes until you're done in that case

>>31570289
Nah I just copied out what I had written on the page. We'd only been given like 5 minutes to write the damn thing. Sorry to disappoint

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>>31570307
oh, mind if i go ahead then?

>>31570329
do it

>>31570329

Floor it.

What? You still don't know who it is. The voice goes on

'It seems the intentions you have are of questionable legality. I would like to join'

"Oh. You"

The woman standing in the doorway looked like a shadow. Her hair had a light gray color. Her skin was supposed to be pale, but many parts where a horrible mic of black, red and orange. The wounds not covered up looked horrifying. It would have been hard to say what she looked like physically, since she was dressed in what appeared to be a bed sheet. She was supporting her weight mostly on right leg and her left arm, that held the door frame. Worst of all were her eyes. They were falling apart for lack of better term. Not only were they robbed of any and all color, giving a very strange ghostly impression, but her Iris' were actually breaking up, like a shattering glass.

'I overheard you discussion from upstairs from my room, and i'm not sure if i have much time left. Let me join, please'

Miranda looks scared. Natalya covers her mouth with her hands to conceal the fact it’s wide open. Lily is just frozen on the spot.

That has to be the woman who got thrown out of the T-30

“you kinda look like you can’t stand up by yourself”

She does not correct you, but rather shuts her eyes with force and bends her head down

‘Please just let me do something. I don’t even know if i will live a week. Maybe your machines can nurse me back to life, maybe i was doomed when the ammunition caught fire, and i just live on borrowed time. I just… I don’t want to go though the pearly gates in a bed with gray skin and a tube up my nose. Can i do something? anything?

“I’m not sure-”
>shush! Let me help you

Lily jumps off her stool and skips over to the woman, and dives in under her right arm, to help her walk

>come here, need anything, tell me and i’ll make him go and get it for you

Lily gives you a “shut you mouth or i’ll kick your teeth in” kind of a look. You remain silent.

>If you know the area well, you could help us. We have a route planned out, but we still need to get around this intersection. Think you know what we can do?

The tries to stand up to get a more over-head view of the map. Her legs won’t help her but Lily has reactions like a rattlesnake on crack, and quickly help her stand properly. There is something with the way she looks at the map, she doesn’t much look like she is looking at it, but rather feels it.

‘The path you have is good. Except the intersection of course. You just have to turn of the road-’
“Yes?”

The woman exhales heavily, and looks just a little ashamed.

‘Let me follow you and i’ll make sure you can get around the crossroads. I promise”

“There is a way to get around this?”

‘I swear’

“Well, suppose you’re in then. Not going tonight, but maybe in a few days. So, right now we have to make sure we do everything we can to help you, so if you need anything speak to…ask Lily and she will shout at me”

You almost squeeze laugh out of her, but it’s obvious it just causes her more pain, even if she does her best to conceal it


“But right now, we gona get you back into bed. If you need anything from water though a shoulder to cry on to drug-laced chocolate, speak to us, alright?”

'Starting tomorrow, i want food that doesn't come from tubes. But it's bedtime now i think'

You help her back up. She is in deep pain, yes but she wants to show as little as possible of it. She is reluctantly tucked in. You halt yourself at the door.

"by the way, never caught you name"
'does it matter anymore?'
"well, we have to call you something"
'tssk. Grey'
"Grey?'
'look at me'

Point, she is really just grey

"Alright, good night Grey"

just as a note, i wrote those two while in hospital on my phone, so they might have some spelling errors, sorry for that

>>31570562
We've come to overlook those, I think. So, is the tankgirl just turning grey, losing color?

>>31570629
i'll get to that

>>31570541
It was late. It was fall now, the time of year when a hoodie was just enough to walk around in during the day, but really was too cold for the night, especially when windy. The trees once again turned yellow, orange and red to display to the entire world they were going into a four month long period of sleep. After leaving the building with the infirmary, The four of you walked through a base about to fall asleep. Many didn't have proper beds, especially grunts. They slept in big tents, or in half-shabby built shelters. Despite the higher status of the tank crews many were offered a bed and in rare cases, even a room, but most declined in favor of sleeping very close to the vehicle itself. The common thing was to dig a hole underneath it, and coat the inside with vegetation and a tarp with some other alterations and structure, this made a nice sleeping pit, using the tank as a roof, that could be rolled out of in a hurry. Since the Jagdtiger was now the hardest hitting vehicle here, you felt that it should be ready as soon as possible if it had to. But, since you didn't do much sleeping last night (which you blame entirely on Lily) you get back to the room you had before and a real bed. You open up one of the last cans of beer you have left, and stare into the endless night through the window. The came from somewhere out there, and as soon as humanity has located where from, the place was going to be drowned in nuclear fire. This thought made you a little happy.

>you know, during the war, sometimes i spend entire nights looking up at the sky
"was the sky different back then?"
>it looked just the same. But it sounded a lot different. i'm still afraid of the sound of big radial engines. They always brought death, and there was nothing you could do to protect yourself. Only hope he was going somewhere else
"sorry, i didn-"
>shush. Lets just sleep now, okay?

Even Lily seems to be lacking in the sleep department, and you both just get ready for the night and to actually sleeping. You've spent pretty much all nights since you met like this. Lily liked being held, embraced, and given attention. Maybe that was some kind of over-reaction to the loneliness earlier? Your mind runs away, and lands on Grey. She looked beyond wounded

>Anon, speak to me
"huh?"
>something isn't right, please talk to me
"how can you tell"
>again, heart rate and breathing, i can feel your heart through my back. it's too fast
"too fast for what?"
>if you would have thought about just me, you would be calm, because i am here, safe with you, well fed and healthy, but you're not calm
"i'm just worried i guess. Seeing what happened to Grey, how she turned all...
>i understand what you mean. That happens if the vehicle is destroyed. The closest thing i can liken it would be a humans soul, If you loose it, you're just a shell, without any real life force
"is she going to die?"
>we all are. But she has maybe a month. Besides, i feel that she's not you main cause for worries right now
"nope, you're right again. You are"

Lily rolls over to face you

"i just don't want to see you like that"

She actually smiles a little

"i don't want to bring this up, but if it ever comes to that, can you get... un-bound to the vehicle somehow?"
>un-bound huh, funny guy

She get rid of the hair that's been hanging down her face, and her expression changes to a more serious one

>in theory, yes it is technically possible.That would however remove any and all connections to the vehicle, turning into a lifeless hunk of steel, i'd start aging like anyone else would, and i would loose my-. Really, i would loose everything that made me special. And the process would be too long if it ever came to that

"you're always going to be special to me Lily. Always"

She is taken back. Her eyes widen. Her breathing almost stops

>i love you anon

You fall asleep en each others embrace

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all from me tonight. see ya

>>31571703
Don't die guy

>>31565192
>>31565194
>>31565194
>>31565201
>>31565206

i like how you gave her an accent m8
> also i've pastebined man hope you don't mind http://pastebin.com/U9BXSmqy

crosspost from /ak/

a little slice of life with a little raifu

Day 1: http://pastebin.com/5bXeqWx9
Day 2: http://pastebin.com/6qUyqWKG

Non-canon bad end, based on idea of raifus/waffengeist being made illegal (warning: too many feels): http://pastebin.com/q6bgiS98

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Hey guys, I'm back for my nightly posting session. And as usual, after I'm done posting I'll link the paste bin again that will have been updated with the new postings shortly after.

>>31576222
Sweet. Got some shit to do, but I can get started in a few hours as well.

And just so you don't get any ideas, you are one of the better (if not the best) WFs around

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>>31564766

>Burton's team took the initiative, a couple throwing frags and starting to push back against the NVA concealed in the jungle, their combined fire sounding like another 20 men had joined, despite it only being seven, lulling the fire of the Vietnamese, giving them time to help what was left of Delta out of their spot.

>Guererra and Stevens hunched down behind the log, scooping up the two grave wounded, Carver helping the lightly wounded Sgt. hobble out of the NVA's cone of fire, no time to communicate as they move through the jungle as a unit, trying to put a bit of distance between them and their attackers.

>Eventually they arrived at a river bed that served to feed the town back to the South with water for crops, ducking down below a natural ridge that was about a meter or so high. Doing their best give some semblance of medical attention to the heavily wounded, The legless man unfortunately having died in the trip from the tree to the river bed.

>At least he didn't die feeling like he'd been forgotten.

>The other was tended to, but he looked like he'd barely make it, the two men in fighting condition named Brooke and Washington.

>Brooke was sinewy looking kid with blonde hair and blue eyes, he sounded like a stereotypical California boy. Washington was a no nonsense Chicago black panther type, a hair pick and a fist medallion hanging from his neck on leather bands. The lightly wounded man Was the Sgt. for Delta, Evers. He'd been hit his collar bone, he couldn't hold a rifle, but he could use his side arm just fine, the 1911 clenched in his left hand. Speaking to Burton.

>"We didn't think you boys would make it...Thanks for comin' Sgt...Burton was it?"

>Burton nodded sagely, the threat wasn't gone but it allowed the men a moment to get their act together.

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>>31576253
Thanks man, that actually means a lot to me.

>>31576281

>Brooke took the dogtags off of the legless man, whom; happened to also have their radio on his back, it was shot to shit though, and the fact it was still on his back meant it happened after his death, sometime during their flight from the point of ambush, else the poor bastard would have shaken it off a long time ago to get at least a little more Comfortable.

>Burton took command, rallying everyone together, speaking in hushed tones, shouting in Vietnamese in the jungle a few hundred meters away, likely commands being barked at them to find the G.I.'s that gave them the slip.

"Alright. We just got reinforced at the little shanty, down past this cut over. And by the looks of it that's the only fucking way we're getting back unless we think your man here can last long enough to take the wide loop around this fucking bunch of Charlies."


>"Negative. We can't take the risk, It had to at least have been a fucking platoon of those fucking Dinks. We got cut up so hard we couldn't even run to your position." Evers interjects, wincing about his arm.

"So you'd rather try and slip behind a Platoon of Gooks, that, COULD have set traps just for us, AND reinforcements, expecting us to do that exact thing, and run the clock out on your man's life?"

>Burton raises an eyebrow as he talks, everyone ducking as a Vietnamese shout sounds relatively closely to their position, their hushed tones getting even more hushed.

>"It's a lot fucking better than running across that fucking death field!" Evers exclaimed as quietly as he could, Burton nodding some, understanding the Sgt's complaint, speaking up again.

"Alright. I'll draw fire. You boys stay here and loop behind and head straight back to Alpha and Echo, copy?"

>"Wait wait wait. You gonna draw fire...alone Sarrent?" Walker speaks up, shaking his head. "Naw. Naw. I'm comin' with ya. You's fast as hell but you ain't as slippery as me."

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>>31576325

>Walker insisted, the seriousness on his face making it clear he was going to come anyway, even if he was ordered not to, the group ducking down lower as they heard some of the NVA shouting again, even closer this time.

>Burton caved from the seriousness of his Private. He knew walker could handle himself, hell he was probably one of the best men he had right now, and the two had done something similar on ambush patrol only 5 days prior to this.

"Fine. You're with me, Walker. Rest of you give us some time to get their fucking attention and move them offa you. Then you head back the we way we came and get these boys outta here, You got that, Carver?"

>Burton looks at Carver as he adds on, as if he were relying on the bespectacled man to get the group out of the jungle in his stead, Carver was starting to grow on him, even with that talking death trap in his hands.

>Carver perks up and nods. "Got it sir. I got it. You can count on us. But what about you two?"

"Don't worry 'bout us. Me and this little Bastard have gotten outta worse than this shit. If we're not back by morning call a search party."

>Burton grins as he talks, the first time any of his men had seen him so eager to do anything, showing his true colors as being a bit crazier than anyone would have first assumed just by looking at him sitting idle. He gave off the 'squad dad' air after all, not the crazy redneck one.

>"Hell yeah Sarrent!" Walker slaps him on the back, the two men standing up and running off without another word, Burton turning as he runs Shooting into the jungle, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"COME GET US Y'FUCKING GOOK PIECES OF SHIT! YAAAAHHHH!"

>He fired a few more times, no less than 10 Vietnamese voices instantly piping up and screaming, the sounds of even more footfalls moving through the jungle after Burton and Walker filling the air.

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>>31576396


>"YEEEEEAAAAAWWWW!! WOOOOOoooOO!" Walker joined in on the hooping like the southern boy he was with his recreation of the rebel yell; echoing through the trees a few rounds of his own being expended between them in full auto.

>There would still be some dinks left behind to fight their way through, but the bastards actually did it -- they pulled the NVA off the Group's trail, watching them hit the cut over, mostly flat dry grass, some patches of vegetation here and there, but for the better part of 200 meters it was wide open.

>"There they are!" Carver pointed them out, the two men barely visible at the distance they'd covered now, having cleared the small patch of jungle near the river bed, turning and firing back at their pursuers to keep them hot on the trail, weaving as they ran.

>"Look at them crazy sons of bitches run." Evers chuckled a bit as he spoke up.

>"That guy's somthin' else, man. You see how he hit that jungle? Like there wasn't a fuckin' thing in front of him." Brooke spoke up in reference to Burton, the members of his squad just nodding a bit, they were the only ones that seemed to have confidence in his and Walker's survival, the group of men coming out of hiding and staring to hump it through the jungle, Getting into a few light engagements, but nothing they couldn't handle.

>Burton and Walker both panted, their backs to a pair of trees about 10 meters apart, hearing the flood of men sweeping the jungle after them, their shouts slowly encroaching on their position, No less than 15 NVA on their ass at this point.

>Walker hunched down and reaching into a pocket on his vest, digging out a piece of fishing line from a survival kit, Burton keeping watch, already knowing what he was going to do with it, knocking on the tree trunk when someone was looking, prompting Walker to stop moving without a word.

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>>31576450

>The Private pulled a frag from it's pouch, wrapping the fishing line around the spoon and the grenade body, lashing it to a stick he'd forced into the earth, tossing the rest of the fishing line to Burton whom began to do the same, wrapping one of his own frags crouching down smoothly, keeping the line taut, wrapping it around his tree rather than a twig as stealthily as he can, tying it in place.

>The idea was when Walker's grenade was pulled off of it's stick, the line would go slack, popping the spoon from his grenade, which would then activate Burton's the tension between the two grenades all that kept them from detonating...

>It'd worked once before in lieu of a Claymore, anyway. Once.

>Walker then looked at Burton, nodding then turning his full attention to the grenade, exhaling very carefully and began to coax the pin from the grenade, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he inched it out bit by bit, the pin came free.....and.....nothing, he sighed with relief, his lips pursed as he exhales.

>Burton traded watch with Walker, undergoing the task of pulling his own pin, the spoon tied to the side of the grenade, with only two coils of fishing line, holding his breath as he carefully jimmies it out, a small click sounding from his grenade, sending a cold tingle through his body...then.......... nothing.

>He trembled a bit, sighing shakily and then giving walker a jittery thumbs up, his eyes wide like he'd seen a ghost, Walker returning the thumbs up. Their trap had been set.

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>>31576530

>Burton stood up. Carefully. Avoiding the M67 suspended by his leg and nodded to the Pvt. holding up his hand and counting down from 5 with his fingers.

>Five

>Four.

>Three.
>Two.
>One.

>Once he reached zero the two men leaned around their trees and fired, five shots barking from the M-14 into a group of NVA, clustering together seeming like they were having a discussion about where the G.I.'s had gone to, the rounds meeting three of the four men, killing two, the other falling flat and screaming in pain, The M-16 spewing about 11 or 12 rounds, scoring a head shot on one NVA and wounding another enough to take him out of the chase.

>Return fire immediately lit up the patch of jungle, impacts whizzing by and tearing through the brush near them, both men taking the first chance to run.

>NVA chattered to one another, their voices echoing through the jungle as they moved after the two Americans, firing wildly as Walker looking over his shoulder as he ran, a group heading right near the pair of trees the men had booby-trapped. One soldier right through the middle of them.

>The Pair of grenades went off, one and then the other, just as the trap was supposed to, they couldn't tell how many they'd gotten, but it had definitely scared the NVA enough to slow down their chase, just a little. Allowing the two to gain more distance. Of course. If they'd never stopped they could have probably lost the Dinks to begin with.

>But they were more interested in killing as many of them as they could before they resorted to that. But they both knew if they pushed their luck too much longer the NVA would start playing this game back, and they had the home-field advantage.

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>>31576613

>The pair of men ran until their lungs burned and their legs felt like they weighed 90 pounds each. Walker was having trouble keeping up now, heaving air in and out of his lungs, stumbling over a tree root and nearly falling flat on his face. Wheezing a bit as he hangs his head. "Hah...hahh.....Motha....fucka...Sarrent.....You...." He stopped to pant, cutting himself off "You ain't fuckin' human....how in the honey dipped sheit can you run so fuckin' long...."

>Burton was winded too of course, his chest rising and falling heavily, sweat running off his face, staining his flak vest even more than before; but he could have kept going, at least for a little while more, his back leaning against a tree, smiling a bit at his companion.

"I had practice....Grandmother was a 100% true born bear clan Huron Indian.....She an' my dad taught me how to hunt with a bow...and run through th' woods up there in Canada."

>Walker keeps panting wiping his mouth and spitting, catching his breath a bit. "Well I'll be fuckin' damned....Ain't no wonder you like a fuckin' spook ow'chea." A wide grin crossing his face as he looked up at the Sgt. His hands on his knees, M-16 held by the carry handle.

"...And I was a nationals track champion back in high school....six seconds from a four minute mile."

>"Got Damn Sarrent...Why you out here in this piece o' shit place then? You coulda done somethin' better. right?" Walker calmed his breathing down considerably now, asking 'the' question to his CO.

"...No reason. I came into the marines because my Grandfather did it, my dad. My uncle. Just seemed like it made fuckin' sense to carry on tradition. Now I see it ain't for shit. But i'm stayin' here to help as many of you wild eyed shit stains get back to the real world as I can."

>"You doin' a damn good job of it too. I'd a been all kinds a chopped up if I was still with that racist asshole in 4th Platoon." He nods a bit, slapping the Sgt on his shoulder gratefully.

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>>31576807

Alright, I think I'm gonna wrap it up here tonight actually, hope you guys liked it, we'll be getting into some real dirt soon so look forward to it!

Also, here's the pastebin. Updated with all of tonight's posts.

http://pastebin.com/4rxQaX6P

>>31577027
JTfag

Gotcha senpai. I'll get to work eventually as well, or keep the thread alive at least

>>31571682
The first thing you see when you wake up are those hazel colored eyes. You didn't even look at her mouth, because she was somehow able to smile with her entire face, and right now, even with just her eyes

"good morning Lily"
>you know what? i can't think of anything we have to do today
"this is a war, surely there has to be something that has to be fixed, somewhere"
>well, if we go looking for problems, we are going to find them
"maybe that is what we should do?"
>maybe should should spend all day with me instead?
"i spend pretty much every day with you"

She looks unhappy again

>augh, you're worried again, and this the kind of worried i can't fix with being warm and soft, so i have to use my head instead. Something troubles you
"you kinda did say there was a way we could help Grey, and like, err... disconnect her

Lily face starts doing a roller coaster of expressions, going through "deeply hurt" though "offended" and then back to normal again

>okay, i'm not going to punch you because i never actually told you what it was, but thing is, we can do to help her, and especially not you. The process would take like ten times longer than what she actually has left to live. Besides, i've only ever heard of a handful of times this has actually worked. Besides, it's not really a "disconnection" but rather to something else. And don't take this as if i don't want to help her, because i do, i'd hate to see one of my own die, especially if i could do anything to prevent it, but thing is, if the doctors can't save her, no one will
"i understand. So if something like this was to happen to you, i would be unable to do anything"
>how about you make sure you don't get shot at in the first case
"yeah, i wouldn't want you to get hurt or anything"

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fuck, i messed up one line

>but thing is, we can do to help her, and especially not you

is supposed to be

>but thing is, we can't do anything to help her, and especially not you

>>31577693
ayy, you're not dead yet!

>>31570038
Dark and sad is okay if it's whats appropriate to the story. Either way, look foreword to more

>>31574900
Mosinwritefag said they were continuing, but I haven't heard anything from them in days.

>>31577662
>all this serious talk has made me hungry, shall we?
"sure"

Lily has asked asked you do more things for her lately. She takes up a lot of your time now, wants you to help her get dressed, get her food, carry her. Does this has something to do with the maintenance of the Jagdtiger? Interesting thought. Anyway, you have no issues helping her get into her clothes, as long as she isn't bitching about it, and she is just as thankful for all attention you give her as always, t(h)anking you with a kiss on the cheek and a big smile.

>should we pick up Grey aswell?

Lily firmly grabs your hand and you walk out to the infirmary. She is actually skipping. Despite her no-nonsense attitude, she can be incredibly girly at times, and she would probably wear a skirt and thigh-highs if the weather would allow it. But as long as there is other people around, she is wearing her take-no-shit attitude. You get to the infirmary and while Grey doesn't seem happy to see you, it does appear as she isn't going to get disappointed at least. She is even given some clothes, even if they are much to big, it's better than the god awful thing you get dressed up in while in the infirmary. Good thing is that the clothes cover up most of her wounds aswell, making sure people don't stare too much. Lily helps her back to the cafeteria, and with a very smooth move from her side, you are left with the tank of getting food for all three. Bit of a balance act, but it does work.

'you two seem happy'
>yep! day off! i don't have to do aaanything at all!
"but maybe i should"
>come on, haven't you ever wanted to just lie in bed all day?
"course i've wanted that, but..."
'the cars'
>huh?
'have you driven them or just stood around and looked them them. Besides, when do we leave?'
"seems to be tomorrow night, and you are right about the cars. We should make sure they are up for the job. Lily?"
>augh...
"you can lie en bed all day if you want to. Alone"
>you're mean to me...

>>31577027
Fantastic. Nothing but praise for you, this story is amazing.

>getting into some real dirt soon

M14 giest soon?

>>31578838

I'm guessing that Burton takes a bullet and 14geist saves his ass.

>>31578401
Nope, not dead yet. Kinda stuck though

time for some depression

>The alarm clock had been blaring for around nn hour before he finally hit the snooze button. The morning was already in full swing, and he could hear people going about their business outside. But his blinds were drawn shut, and his shitty little apartment was still dark and gloomy.

>He spent another hour prone on the bed before he summoned enough willpower to drag himself off of it. He plodded over to the bathroom, took a quick piss, and made his way out to the kitchenette. He opened up a cabinet, then remembered he'd run out of food two days ago.

>He left the cabinet swinging open and sat down heavily on his ratty couch, flicking on his television. All that was on was the news. Some story of how a family was reunited after some years apart. Their smiling faces felt like they were mocking him.

>His stomach grumbled, and he figured that today was the day. It was as good a day as any.

>He went over to his closet and retrieved his most valuable possession, the Remington 870 his grandfather gave to him before his death. He ran a hand over the beautiful walnut stock, dusting it off a bit.

>"Hey there, Remi," he said to the weapon. He knew it was just an inanimate object, but he figured it was only a matter of time beforenhe forgot that fact, and actual mental illness set in. He decided that he should get it over with before he became a danger to society.

>"Come with me, Remi. I have something for you to take care of..."

>He took his shotgun back over to the couch and left it lying there while he retrieved a 12 gauge slug, a glass of water, and the last of his valium from the medicine cabinet.

>Plopping back down on the couch, he turned the volume on the television as high as it would go, then washed the valium down with the water. He watched the news for a while longer, petting the stock of the shotgun, admiring its stark beauty.

>>31580498
>He felt the valium kick in and he smiled slightly.

>He loaded the slug, pumped the weapon.

>He put the barrel into his mouth.

>He pulled the trigger.

*click*

>Slightly annoyed, he got up, grabbed another slug, and loaded it. Another pump.

*click*

>His annoyance was growing, as he brought the whole box of slugs over. He tried them one after the other.

*click*
*click*
*click*
*click*
*click*

>He started to weep, and he tossed the gun aside. He put his head in his hands and cried and cried.

>He felt a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders.

"Please don't cry... you don't want to die, trust me..."

>He looked up, his face tear stained and his eyes red. He saw a beautiful young woman sitting next to him, holding him with her skinny arms. She had long light brown hair, the color of the walnut stock, and kind brown eyes.

>"Who... who are you?" he asked, dumbstruck.

"You know who I am. You've been saying my name, after all."

>It took him a few moments, but he put 2 andn2 together. "Remi?" She nodded.

>>31580601
>>31580498

i'm not sure i like where this is going but please don't stop

>>31580601
>"Y-you're real?" He didn't quite believe his eyes, and assumed he'd gone off the deep end.

"Yes, I'm real. You're not crazy."

>"I'm talking to my gun and not seeing you as such... I am crazy..."

"No, you're not. I didn't reveal myself to you before because I thought it would overwhelm you, but... you gave me no choice, here..."

>She squeezed him a bit tighter.

"You don't want to die... I don't want you to die... your grandpa told me to look after you, keep you safe... I can't let you do this to yourself..."

>"It doesn't matter, my life is meaningless. I hit the dead end. Better to end it now to spare myself more pain."

"What about me?"

>"Huh? What do you mean?"

"If you kill yourself, what happens to me? Protecting you is my purpose, and if you die... if I fail in that... your life is not meaningless. It means so much to me... you have no idea..."

>He stared into her eyes for several minutes, not speaking. He then burst into tears again, and hugged her tight. She patted his back, her own eyes moistening a bit.

"Shhh... shh... I'll be here for you... always... shh... it's alright..."

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>>31580498
>>31580601
>reading this
>listening to this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrulQAZq7Y8

Jesus Crisps the feels.

>>31580746
should I do more of this? might kinda seem like I'm jumping on the waffegeist bandwgon

>>31581067
well, this is a writefagging thread after all

yes, please continue

>>31581067
keep going m8

>>31581099
>>31581127
alright, as you wish

>>31580746
>They sat there, holding each other for a long while. He eventually pulled out of the hug and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. She took his hands in her own, and regarded him warmly, with those kind brown eyes of hers. "Thank you," he weakly said, meeting her gaze for a fleeting moment before lowering his eyes.

"No need to thank me... if anything, I should apologize to you. I should have shown myself sooner, before it got this bad... I'm so sorry... but I will make it up to you, I promise."

>He continued to say nothing, and just breathed in and out deeply.

"I won't leave your side. When things are difficult, I'll help you cope from now on. Just, please, don't try to harm yourself again."

>"Alright..."

"Promise me."

>"I promise I won't try it again."

>She smiled and kissed him on the cheek, and he blushed. "Can we just sit here for a while?"

"Of course we can."

>She grabbed the tv remote and turned the volume down.

"For as long as you want, I'll hold you, and you can hold me. And tomorrow, we get you back on your feet."

>She pressed up against him, making him blush more. She was significantly shorter than him, so he closed his eyes and rested chin in top of her head. Soon he fell asleep sitting there on the couch.

>>31581321

you're too good at writing sad stuff. are you okay? need someone to talk to?

>>31581426
>>31581321

i'm an expert on the topic if you need me

>>31581321

>He was worn out and mentally anguished by the experience so sleep came easy. He slept for hours. When he came to, it was dark outside.

>He expected this all to be just some fever dream, but here she was, legs curled up under her body, still wrapped in his embrace. She stirred at his movement.

>"Were you sleeping? Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you..."

"It's alright. I don't need too much sleep anyway."

>She smiled a smile so warm he felt like smiling himself. A true smile, like he hadn't done in years. He recognized the feeling in his heart, a bit of happiness peaking through all the layers of loneliness and self loathing.

>"It's good to know that was all real... that you're real," he said, shaking away the last bit of disbelief. It was a very weird, unusual situation, but at least now he believed in it.

"Come, let's get you to the bed, so you can be bright and fresh for tomorrow. I'll help you find a new job, and you'll pull through."

>They stood up together and she guided him to the bed, as he was feeling weak in his knees. He lay down on his back, and she laid on top of him. In the moonlight filtering through his window blinds, he admired her beauty. Her features were soft and round, her nose was a cute little thing, and her ears were hidden under her thick walnut colored hair. She was a skinny girl, with a bit of a flat chest, but he didn't mind at all.

>"You're very beautiful..." He felt the urge to run his fingers through her hair, and so he did so. She smiled.

"I know, and it's because you've taken such good care of me for all the years you've owned me."

>>31581680
>"So... you were alive for all those years?"

"I was. As far back as I remember, your grandfather owned me. I was mounted on the wall, if you'd remember his house."

>He did remember. Right over the mantelpiece, always there whenever he visited. "Did you show yourself to my grandpa?" She nods her affirmation.

"When he was getting older, and he could no longer take care of himself... I started to take care of him. It's how he stayed independent for so long, so he didn't get put into the old folk's home. Before he passed, and I came into your possession, he made me promise to look after you, and protect you should you ever need it. He loved you very much."

>He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, remembering his grandfather. The hunting trips, fishing, teaching of wilderness survival... everything good in his childhood.

"It's not just that, though. It's not just duty to him that makes me care for you."

>"How do you mean?"

"From the moment you hecame my owner, you treated me like the most valuable thing in the world. You cleaned me, maintained me, respected me...depended on me... I fell in love with you, just as I saw that you loved me."

>He did love her. He never realized what she was, but even so he valued the Remington above everything else in his life. And in the end, she was all he had to his name. But she was all he needed.

"Would you say it to me?"

>"I love you, Remi."

"I love you too."

>>31581981
maybe a good place to wrap that up, gotta get some sleep anyway

You remember that movie, with the kid and that guy?

"I see dead people"?

Yeah. I see these "Waffengeist" things. Everywhere.

At first I chalked it up to the meds. The VA is bad about that kind of shit. My own collection jabbering at me in Japanese, French, German,

Customer's guns seeming to know that I could see them, trying to hold a conversation with me as I work on them.

Ever wonder ow a OB-GYN feels after looking at so much snatch that they no longer care, but they still kind of do?

Same deal.

I'm a gunsmith. And I see waffengeists.
All of them.

Welcome to hell.

>>31580498
>>31580601
>>31580746
>>31581321
>>31581680
>>31581981
This was a feels trip and a half, but the wrap up point you chose was heartwarming. I look forward to more of this, anon

>>31582180
Sounds like the plot to a cheesy B movie written by /K/

>>31582476
>Sounds like the plot to a cheesy B movie written by /K/

That's the idea.

>>31582180
>>31582497

Colt 1911 pattern in .38 super with the Virgin of Guadalupe grips.

Dark eyed Mexican chola. "Ey papi, I need to be cleaned".

>>31582180
>implying a true /k/ommando wouldn't cuck strangers by fucking their raifus

>>31582476
>Cheesy B Movie

You're Saying that like a bad thing man

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Anyone remember the old HFY threads we used to have on this board?

>>31584960
I yearn for the day /k/ommandos revel in battle in on alien worlds.

>>31584960

Yeah, they sucked.

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>>31584960
>mfw after all this time people are still saving my writing

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So if shooting full auto is on par with sex then what do these meltdown videos count as?

>>31585803

http://www.sexuallybroken.com/

>>31585803
Anon, have you ever masturbated twice in a row? Three times? There comes a point where it stops feeling nice and it just hurts.

Meltdowns are the equivalent of going so hard and so long that the skins is falling off, and it's all just pain and gore.

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>>31585803

I don't necessarily feel it's sex, just more like massive overstimulation.

and why would you use your raifu to the point of meltdown? you want her to burn to death and leave you with a damaged, soulless rifle? you sick fucking bastard get the fuck out

>>31585803

When she keeps sucking after you nut.

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>>31586038
>mfw your raifu goes from enraptured by the feeling to begging you to stop.

>mfw I want to see this fleshed out in a story.

Is...is someone willing to do that?

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>>31586090
>mfw I might attempt it

>>31585803
>>31586038
>>31586090
>>31586127
Don't anger the machine spirits, guys.

I've done a little bit of writing on the idea of a FAL waffengeist.

Comments and criticism are more than welcome.

http://pastebin.com/G0edSbFC

>>31585282
Only commies, faggots, and the french don't like HFY. Which are you so I can insult you properly.

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>>31586127
>As the AK's handguard bursts into flames, rifles and gun owners alike watch in horror as anon reaches for yet another magazine.

>A 10/22 falls to her knees, covering her ears to block out the roar of gunfire and crackling wood.

>An SKS retches at the sight of the barrel beginning to emit a sickly red and yellow glow.

>Some rifles beg their owners to intervene. An AR-15 reverts to her rifle form and urges him to act. In a daze from the sight, he doesn't budge.

Shit, the sadist in me can't wait.

>>31586639
Hi virtualoptim, still evading your ban I see.

>>31586639
I know I could, but now I'm debating if I should...

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>>31583775
>implying a true /k/ommando wouldn't cuck strangers by fucking their raifus
This, so much this.

Been lurking /k/ pretty often this writfaggery is the only thing to make me stick around.
i'm not sure if that's a good thing or bad.

>>31586639
yeah let's not do this.
getting into a whole abuse theme that might actually gain a foothold maybe just a few stories here and there but still i'd rather not risk the chance of it being a sub-genre here for people that get off to that.

Sorry if I'm a bit lacking in content lately, I have to tend to some things, afraid today will be more of the same. But there should be something at least

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Hey guys, not dead, just late.

Mafia 3 got me all kinds of distracted. Sorry about that. I'll start posting here in a bit.

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>tfw you see other anons using the term Waffegeist

May end up writing a comic at some point just for /k/

>>31588291
It's a great term. Describes what's going on, and has that "foreign language extra good" thing going.

>>31587397
whatever floats your boat

>>31588291
Any though progress further than "hey, I should do a comic"?

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>>31576807

"'Preciate it, Walker."

>Burton nodded a bit, his companion waving his hand at the Sgt's words.

>"Aw cut it with the 'Walker' shiet. name's Marlin. Y'call me that when it works."

>With that he stuck his hand out, A big grin on his face. Burton knew his first name already, but didn't use it for the sake of avoiding complacency...but in a situation like this. Marlin would be just fine, Meeting his handshake.

"Sam."
>Burton replies, the two acting like they'd just met each other for the first time.

>"Sam Burton. Sound like some news anchor name or summin' I'da stuck you for a 'MICHEAL' or summin'"

>Walker laughed a bit, the two starting to walk again, their eyes peeled but talking lowly as they move through the jungle. They talked the whole time, telling stories, talking about work, their family, women back home waiting for them.

>"Yeahhh, that's 'm Wanda. She can't read too good but boooooy she can fry up a catfish I tell you what. Ain't a damn thing like it in the world. Put some collard greens on there with some fried okra n' some mashed p'tatas and corn bread. WooOOOooo boy! I'm I'm fuckin' gettin' starvin' thikin' 'bout it."

>Walker laughed a bit, animated at the thought of home, the man practically bled Louisiana. Burton handed him back the picture of slim, but well endowed southern black lady, her hair was done up nice with a pretty pink dress on and a white hair band in, smiling widely at the camera. The talk made the Sgt Smile, putting him in a place mentally he'd totally forgotten about.

>"How bout you Sarrent. You got got yourself a lady?"

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>>31588363

>The Sgt stops talking and thinks for a minute, then shakes his head.

"Nah. Had one but she was the peace and love type. Dropped me like I was a hot potato when I said I was comin' out here. I got a more important one though."

>The two laugh at his words, Walker asking some more questions. "Damn~ You a playa too? Well don't leave me out in' the fuckin' breeze man how this other one look? I know you white boys all pick some fine chick-a-dee's out there. Betcha up north they look reallll nice."

>Burton takes a minute, puling his helmet off, letting his hair breathe for the first time since today started, pulling a Polaroid out of the inside of his helmet liner, reaching across the distance and handing it to the Pvt. stopping as he crouches down, turning on his light and looking at the picture for just a second.

>The girl in the picture was smiling a bit, but in a pouty way like the picture was taken by surprise, wearing a back and white polka-dot dress. Dirty blonde hair in a pony tail with a black ribbon, a bit of freckles on her cute little nose, deep green eyes. She was young. Real young. She looked like she was hardly a teenager, no more than 12.

>A bit of text was written on the back of the Polaroid. "For Daddy <3" in clean, girlish writing.

>Walker stood back up, realizing he made a mistake in assuming, nodding with a smile. "Aw.. She a beautiful daughter Sarrent. Sorry I talk'd 'bout her like that... That's the most important kinda lady to have waiting back home. Mmmmhm."

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>>31588385

"Yeah that's my Rachel... She's why I didn't pursue my running...Had her in my Senior year in High-school. Her mom was too ashamed about havin' a kid at 17 and dropped off the face of the earth; her and her parents moved and left the baby with me...But anyway she's a great kid. Straight A student. Poor thing cried all day when I left..."

>He stopped to smile a bit.

"Took my mom and dad 3 hours to make her come out of her bedroom to say goodbye to me before I left on the bus. I write to 'er every day. Ain't no way I'm going to miss coming back for her."

>Burton spoke, taking the picture back and carefully putting it back in it's place.

>"Damn right. She oughta be real proud t'have a daddy like you, sheit, I know I would. Mine left my Momma when my brother was born. I barely remember that motha fucka."

>Marlin put his thoughts out, the last part of his sentence sounding like he was about to start spitting venom at the man that left his family behind. The subject adjusting a bit as he speaks his mind.

>"But if you got a baby like that why you risking yo ass out chere?"

"Well...I couldn't find any good work to support her. I wasn't about to make my parents help me raise a kid when they already did 4 of their own. Figured sticking with the military and riding the G.I. Bill while I do some internal work on base after this shit blows over would work out for us."

>Burton spoke thoughtfully, stepping over a log in his path, the moon shining through the trees on the men now a little more, the trees thinning out just a bit.

>"Dayum so you gonna be a lifer then? Stayin' in even after you do your tours and all that? Move up the chain and all that shiet?" Walker seemed a bit surprised, as if it was one of the first times he'd heard anyone have this kind of idea.

>FAL is back

Sweeeet

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>>31588405

"Yeah. That's the plan anyways."

> Sam sighed a bit, cracking his neck. He knew the plan was stupid to someone that wanted nothing to do with the military beyond their tour, but if he climbed the chain of command he could give his daughter some kind of security as a single dad, and he wouldn't need to rely on anyone else for it.

>Dead air fell on the two men after the weighty discussion, Sam sighed a bit and starting to hum a Clarence Carter's slip away under his breath, Walker recognizing it nearly instantly.

>"Sheiit Sarrent you listen to Clarence Carter too? I knew I liked ya."

>Walker began to sing, surprisingly well, in fact.

>"What would I giiiiiveee for just a few mooooments....What would I GiiIiiIIvvve just to have you neaaaarr~"

>Burton chiming in, singing the song with his Private, surprisingly well himself.

"Tell me you would tryyy. To slip away some howwwww Oohh I need you darling~ I want to see you right now~"

>Both men singing together now "Can ya slip away. Slip awayyy. Slip awayyayyyyayyyyyy oh I need you so~" Both laughing and then quieting down again realizing they'd been making too much noise in the jungle, the smiles fading off their faces as they quietly put their minds back to the job at hand; making their way back to the town.