/wfg/ Writefag General "Beat 'Em Again"

>>32089794
Stories:

FALWritefag (ongoing)
Argentinian Rose
Rifles of 'Nam
Pale King's Disciple
http://pastebin.com/u/Falwritefag

ATannie (ongoing)(updated)
Anon gets an AT random Mischief ensues
Rhinno 2.0
http://pastebin.com/XbWjWNQM

JtFag
Ayys attack earth, old school tanks are last hope (ongoing)(updated)
http://pastebin.com/1qS4EqXS


Guard
http://pastebin.com/FsAxH8e2

AngryHayseed (ongoing)
Some 40k related writefaggotry
http://pastebin.com/Jy6K92kt

Anons
http://pastebin.com/CPUdepLW


RPK writefag
Viktoria
http://pastebin.com/5StKUQ9k


Red flame Lilly (ongoing)
http://pastebin.com/u/Red_Flame_Lilly

SKSanon
http://pastebin.com/u/Balthier1234

http://pastebin.com/UNyH03x2

HiPointHomie (on going)
http://pastebin.com/4z0nkECw

Vepr 12
Hotline Waffegeist series (ongoing)(updated)
http://pastebin.com/u/Vepr12

construct
http://pastebin.com/ReY90Yxk

AnonRhino (completed)
Lil'Chiappa
http://pastebin.com/JFGrpdjP

Diary anon
http://pastebin.com/wjHKSdZU

Tsuhna
Riikka (ongoing) (Updated)
untiled (ongoing) (suggest him a name)
http://pastebin.com/u/tsuhna

kragfag (ongoing)[give me a better subtile]
anon finds that a Mongolian knitting board was right
http://pastebin.com/UewkKShc

Sub-fag
http://pastebin.com/us9M9dWt

Sierra 114
http://pastebin.com/u/Sierra114


Serial-Anon
Serial 1: SHTF, /k/ommando must survive (ongoing)
http://pastebin.com/aMVuYEjc

Anon-kun
L1A1 Parts Kit+Arms of side+just another day+browning+sks
http://pastebin.com/u/anon_kun

PTRfag
Light My Fire (ongoing)
http://pastebin.com/36rGEX1Q

Another Hipoint story (it´s not related with Hipoint anon)
http://pastebin.com/Af3icZWS

Txpoorfag
http://pastebin.com/UNyH03x2

/k/ommandos vs wild (ongoing)(updated)
http://pastebin.com/Sa6N0je7

>>32089804
dudebroguy
Some Untitled Stories
National Guard vs Jersey Devil
Requiem from the gods (ongoing)
http://pastebin.com/1cXMnvg4

EchoFiveSeven
Gun spirits
http://pastebin.com/PpjUvW5k

Not Enough War (ongoing)
http://pastebin.com/eX5whkzm


10/22 (ongoing)(updated)
anon gets a raifu and misc stories
http://pastebin.com/uH6v780b

DBW
Anon gets KSG, roll for sanity loss
http://pastebin.com/r6REt9Gt

It Ain't Me- Fortunate Sons
Sticks and Stoners(ongoing)
what we lost (feels)
What we found (even more feels)
http://pastebin.com/u/Fortunate_Sons

Rhodie FAL Guy (being rewritten)
http://pastebin.com/G0edSbFC

mosinwritefag
http://pastebin.com/u/Myshka

Autist-kun
http://pastebin.com/9UmqrmuC

Garandfag (ongoing?)(NSFW!!)
http://pastebin.com/8Kna6UsN

C8 fag (ongoing)
http://pastebin.com/qdfRsNXx

Lever Gat Fag
Heirloom rifle (ongoing)
http://pastebin.com/gFjLFfKR

the /k/afe (varius)(ongoing)
http://pastebin.com/sTAHndn5

556X51 stuff
http://pastebin.com/u/556x51NATO

Ak 4OR (ongoing)
http://pastebin.com/MQQyKaf3

Tacticalchucks (ongoing)
Chucks and Erica
Down the Road, Over the River
http://pastebin.com/u/Kolt1911

A. Shephard
Small zone of confort
http://pastebin.com/zTWiNURJ

The Deplorable Phil Ossiferz Stone
Cold
http://pastebin.com/BM4imGQ4

Lil' clover
http://pastebin.com/8xqpmekk

Sub-fag
http://pastebin.com/u/Subfag

Doilooklikewritefag
http://pastebin.com/u/DoIlooklikeawritefag

Mining anon
http://pastebin.com/qUTkH2Gd

his stories are on an undifined hiautus
http://pastebin.com/fS17qWb7

Realfag
http://pastebin.com/5ndtABaC

>>32089808

Some google docs of writefaggotry
http://pastebin.com/JUuF7HjC

Some Guides and tips

http://pastebin.com/gsYuFqb0

In case that Polybus or Archivag forgot about some pastebin/to pastebin some story or didn't properly tag or even tagged at all, yell either at Polibus or at Archivefag in the general

>know about a link to a story that isn't here? send it to either polybus or Archivefag
[email protected]
[email protected]

>>32089794

Alright, guys. I posted that last piece in the last thread and if you guys liked it or need something to print out and wipe your ass with, I can continue.

I was a semi-accomplished writer in my youth and after undergoing the first year and a half or so of enlistment, having been writing all along, I put it all together as a sort of chronicle via poem, as it were.

>>32089926
Please repost and continue

>>32089926
>>32089948

Cool. I'll not bother chronological posting, as it's gonna make things too gay. I will denote service time of piece or event at the top of every piece.
There Is Nothing
Time in Service: 11 Months


She once said that there was nothing between us anymore. But how could that be true with the air taking up so much space?

The air and the pavement and the heat and the pollen and the laughter and the cum and the lipstick and the dirt and the lilies and the mountains and the sky and the bed they all made.

The mornings and the pajamas and the cute slouch in her posture.

The pale skin of winter and the scabs of dead timber on the landscape, watching the fireworks in the night.

The growths of tumors that were our houses.

The sheets.

To say that there was nothing between us would be a lie. To say that what was between us lost meaning would not.

The spilt milk and sex and weight drag across our crooked frames like a knife drawn incorrectly across a gritstone.

This world will make us dull.
Love will fuck us up.
We will fuck each other over.

Existences like adrenaline rushes, narrow and pulsing and slowly fading away into hangovers and strangers in our beds.

This life will lose its mystery. We will strive to become our heroes or live in shame of ourselves.

I hope I always keep the hero and she always keeps the shame, or that I can tell myself that lie everyday in the mirror when I look my animalistic self in the eyes. A frame. An ugly, battered frame and a head full of blame for myself.

We are stuck in boxes in cages in deserts. We have confined ourselves. We are our own damn Gods.

Albeit unimpressive ones.

>>32089980

Northport
Time in Service: 0 months

I stood on the porch, mostly drunk.
The night was warm, but a good warm.
I watched the lake and cars on the bridge miles away.

I took another pull from the bottle.

I stumbled into my room and rummaged through a basket and found your letters and pictures and lipstick-stained windshield wiper notes.

I held them. I read them and put them in my pocket.

I stumbled through my kitchen and pulled three strike-anywhere lucifers from the box beside my spices and lurched into the yard. Carefully, I put these records of what we had in chronological order and burned the stack from the edges inward.

I pulled from the bottle again and looked at the sky, half-expecting to see God watching. But God wasn't watching anybody.

I watched the words and xeroxed photos turn in and fall apart and I thought for a moment that in that moment, I could slide my Smith from it's holster and bounce one through my skull and nobody would know until I didn't show up for work and didn't call my mom the next night.

Very small, I felt very small in the universe, standing in the wet grass and thinking nothing and breathing rich and warm air.

But it was a passing thought.

Your words were just embers now, and I pulled once more from the bottle and then pulled out my member and pissed on the ashes. And I always called you Ash and I thought that was funny.

I fell back into the house and only the lamp was still on so I turned it off and crawled into bed.

And I wish you'd called.

>>32089991

Dusty Kids and Shitfaced Dogs
Time in Service: 7 Months

I am a weed in this garden. This little copse of grass and water way out here in space.

Kids play in the dust and kids run from the bathwater and kids hide from monsters in their closets but they're their self-same monsters in closets in boxes in cages in deserts.

Parking lot trash and parking lot litter and the people are the trash and we're making islands of litter so we can have Arks when God gets tired of looking at the jizz stains on the satin.

We'll float around on little trash boats with little trash crowns and we'll take the dogs and the cats.

Dogs eat shit and dogs eat each other and dogs eat people and people eat dogs and so therefore people eat people and these are lucky people because dogs like people and they can love the selves they're killing.

I'm looking for a lover for the end of this world to help steer my popsicle stick boat and take an island that used to be a mountain and we'll make love while our mouths fill with blood.

Broken bread and broken knuckles and in the parking lot, with the litter and the dogs that eat dogs, I'm blowing a frothy breath and fucking the pavement and I can't tell the difference between all the things they tell me anymore.

It all runs together and goes in my ears and out my mouth and I leave skin on the headlight.

There is no amount of spilt milk, spilt KY, spilt cum and spilt blood that could have floated our boat and so I'm in the parking lot watching the world fill up. And I'm swimming with the dogs that eat other dogs and making love while our blood fills our mouths and we blend.

And I'm thinking about the kids in the dust in the yard with a dog that don't eat dogs and if this is the end of the world, and that's what the world is ending, then I don't like this at all.

And I'm gonna pull the drain-plug.

I'm going home and someone's coming with me.

>>32090018

The One Time You Didn't Stop Me (1/2)
Time in Service: 9 months


I dropped by your neighborhood when I came home for Christmas and wondered if I'd see your car parked in the cold air, and if maybe I looked into the window I'd see us fucking like we did a thousand years ago.

I used to drive early in the morning and late into the night and burn dinosaurs and brake pads for a chance to see you. To lay beside you, to breathe in as you breathed out.

The roads were dimly lit and the blacktop was lonely and the cops were out but there were only green lights on the way to you.

Life rented us and tore at us but we had our Saturday and there was no yield sign on the way to you. Seasons changed and sometimes the road iced and I had to start my car to warm it, come in and grab a blowjob and then ride off.

And I hoped for red lights on the drive home from you. So that I could stop and think of you. And I'd play rollicking, celebratory music because you pumped me the fuck up.

And I'd be off again. The route rugburn racing club, beating the traffic to you, racing time to you.

There were no intersections on the way to you.

>>32090043

The One Time You Didn't Stop Me (2/2)

The years went by and I buried people and watched others wither and I filed it all back. I put my home and family life on the backburner to make time with you.

I was with you when the world dropped like a fruit and the flesh began to rot and sag and you put in an express lane to you.

The road was open to get to you, with no legal U-turns.


You drove to my house on a Tuesday when you came home from Disney world.

You drove your new car to me. There were probably traffic stops on the way to me.

You gave me a chocolate frog and began a long sentence and I assumed you were pregnant and tried to kiss you. You pulled away and never quit pulling. You made yourself nothing. You no longer exist. Your life holds no meaning. You learned that I lied to you and nobody gives a fuck about you. That you're a microscopic cog in a catastrophic plan.

And we met in that coffeehouse on Montgomery drive and you seemed weak. Because you are weak. You're an anchor. You're pulling people down so you don't drown alone.

This city doesn't remember you. Nobody speaks of you. You're that chick I fucked. You're a whisp of smoke from cigarettes you couldn't finish. Your ghost is silent. Not even the roads remember us.

And there were only green lights when I drove away from you.

>>32090048

No Use Crying Over Spilt Xanax (1/2)
Time in Service: 1 Year

To think that you are special is a lie perpetuated by No Child Left Behind to perpetuate the further lie that all humans are born unto this clay with a semblance of equality.

And inequality is no specific thing, and in inequality is the only common ground that we're subject to find.

There is no less an unfairness of things for a child born into the darkest corners subjected to sparse moments of light than there is of a child born into the light only to experience periods of darkness so compressed as to staunch the blood of existence for periods so extended that the sanguine joy of life would clot.

And neither one will truly live the life caste for them. One will ascend and one will descend and there is no organization to it because there is no sure caste and there is no mold and there is no God to orchestrate it.

And in these lies all is perpetrated a bigger lie that anyone is having an overall easy time with this shit.

There is no use crying over spilt Xanax, ill-prepared meth, overly-cut cocaine, cartridge casings, sex, weight, or any other thing that might mark some newer dark chapter or the continuance of any others extant.

What you might cry over is that is that if someone took some ammonia-based glass cleaner and unfogged the glass we've breathed on, bleached the DNA left by blood or semen from the carpet or tiles, refurbished the table our tumbler sweat a ring on, then there would be so very little to show that we might have ever really existed at all.

Who could attest that you were really there if they did not retain some proof?

Our items will pass on and pass on and be sold in a thrift or garage sale and the new bearers will not long wonder who might first have possessed these things and what their significance might be.

>>32090075

No Use Crying Over Spilt Xanax (2/2)

And should some civilization find our knives, they will know that they are just knives because we are too well-recorded for our records to be of anything that might matter. No archeological student will wonder with which you cut the butter and which you cut the bread.

That is why I pinch my butter off and rip my bread. Because if my tools won't astound, then my lack thereof might invoke remembrance that we are no less primal than ever. Simply deluded into thinking that we might have created some means to be more. As if our butter knives and Christmas bells and smart phones might come together and make some ladder or escalator with which we could transcend the truth.

I am the truth. You are the truth. The old man feeding birds is the truth. We post our own witness. Of ourselves. Of each other.

We are our own remembrance if we would connect. We are the heralds of our own inequality. Where you have weight, another has weight. Where your tolerances lie, they lie elsewhere and elsewhere are broken.

Show me what you have witnessed and I will show you some thing of equal audacity witnessed in some other place. Show me a man's struggle and I will show that all men are struggling. Show me a divinity and I will show you one in turn and what bewitching would match it as well.

Show me a man burning himself to protest a movement and I will show you an article of a woman who drowned for loss and lack of a lover.

Post no witness of me.

>>32090086

Just Send Me to Fucking War, They Said There'd Be Fucking War
Time in Service: 1 Year, 7 Months

If I die in a combat zone, I hope the world will remember me for all the things they wouldn't associate me with.
I hope to be remembered as a guy who cried at the end of movies.
I hope to be remembered as a poet with flowers in my hair.
As a lover between soft sheets at 4:10 in the morning.

Let me leave behind the dust and grit and perforated lungs and the blood covering my magazine pouches. Let the hot sun bake not my final caste.
Let me leave behind the sadnesses of my existence that held no real passion of themselves.

Remember my slurred speech on drunken, rollicking nights when everything was close and moving and illuminated with lamplight. Remember my drunken smile with a Marlboro Red in my lips bumming a light and telling a joke.

Remember my cold cheeks in the snow that night when I stumbled sick into the slush to build a snowman.

Remember a kid who loves his mama.
Remember me opening presents when I was five years old, wearing long-johns and a cowboy hat.
Remember sending me off to my first school dance or the first time I hit a double in baseball.

Remember my first time driving to school alone.
Remember me making tea in in the morning.

The Warrior's path my boots will walk can end in the earth my blood may darken.
The struggles of my existence you can bury with me.
The last of my breath can just be part of the atmosphere.

But remember the happiness the small things brought me and try to remember small happinesses I brought as well as the smaller heartaches of my youthful existence.

If I die in a combat zone, box me up and ship me home. Remember not that I must be dead, but that I was once very alive.

Do not lose sleep over me. I am a bed of flowers and a name in this world, but I will live on in every smile I brought to your face.

>>32090102

That's it for me, dudes. R8, h8, tell me to kill myself, none of it matters to me. All I care about these days is gym time and killing animals.

>>32090113
Wow.
This was interesting to read.
However, I'm a little dense when it comes to poetic (i think that's what you'd call this) stuff.

So you joined the service, and the girl you were with broke up with you, or what?

>>32090153

Whew. Do you want the whole story?

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I guess I'll come out to play.

Light My Fire cont.

>this is cute but, "why do you want to dress just like me?"
>then, her eyes sadden
>Defeat fills the young german's expression as her eyes gloss over
>keening, "b-but I vant ozhers to know ve are togezher..."
>her little mouth starts to curl deeply into a frown
>bottom lip trembling
>oh no! Shit! Do something!
>quickly, I pull Judith into an embrace, her slender arms hang limp at her side
>my left arm holds her tight, my right is running my fingers through her hair on the back of her head
>"shh-shh-shh-shh-shhhhh..." I think I know what this is about, and decide to gamble, "Angel... this isn't the military where uniforms have to match. Couples don't need to wear the thing same in regular life..."
>a snot-filled sniffle, "zhey do not?"
>through her long, silky black hair, I can feel her head shaking
>I hold her tighter against me, "no... of course not... how many couples have we seen today wearing different clothing?"
>"I do not know."
>well, it was a rhetorical question, but, "I saw quite a few so far. Some girls wore dresses, others jeans..."
>Her arms, then, wrap around and squeeze me tight
>a little too tight
>please let go, damnit!
>Judith is drying her eyes on my shoulder, but I'm turning blue
>desperate to alter her state of mind, I struggle, "remember that one reaaaally fat lady?..." try to push away, "in the white dress?"
>Judith releases me
>I can breathe again, and do so shamelessly
>I look down at Judith who's pretty little eyes are looking quizzical, "She vas a couple vith her oxygen tank?" blinking at me
>literally wat?
>with bright shades of amber and dark brown, Judith's eyes are still a bit glossy but unwavering
>sometimes, I can't tell if she's just messing with me or if she's...
>well, she's not dumb, but she can be stupid
>I really don't know sometimes
>"what? No... I'm just making the point that girls don't necessarily have to wear the same clothing as their men do."

>>32090221
>about to go to bed
>time for LMF

Pls let the thread live for 8 more hours ;_;

>>32090206
Cliff notes version?

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>>32090221
Light My Fire cont.

>"what? No... I'm just making the point that girls don't necessarily have to wear the same clothing as their men do."
>"oh." Eyes cast down, covered by her dark bangs
>teaching social norms is harder than I thought
>She wants the same things that I already have
>I could give her something similar...
>"How about this one?" I point back up at the wall
>it's a nyan cat in space t-shirt
>I can tell by her look of combined disappointment and complete bewilderment by what she is beholding that it is a no-go
>hmmm...
>maybe if I find one that I like...
>Judith goes down to sit on her knees, continuing her search for a t-shirt
>I look up high at the examples hanging
>no... no...
>Then, I spot a black t-shirt sporting a comical grim reaper accompanied by the text, "spoiler alert: everyone dies"
>hehehe... I like that one
>"ooh! I like that one!"
>Judith gasps with excitement, "Vhere?!" eyes skyward
>"This one..." I find the corresponding box and...
>Judith looks like a medium
>don't want anything too small
>I thumb through the neatly folded t-shirts for a medium
>of course, the two left at the bottom
>I pull one of the mediums from the cubbyhole
>pinching the shoulders, I allow the rest of the t-shirt to unfold via gravity
>The young german slowly reads the text out loud, "Spoiler... alert:... every-vone... dies..."
>her brow furrows, "I do not get it. Who ist he?"
>I explain, "He's death. The Grim Reaper."
>utter confusion
>"His job is to reap the souls of the dead, hence the scythe..."
>there's a disconnect here, "Ja, okay... vell vhat ist a 'spoiler alert?'"
>idioms...
>"It's when you reveal a surprise ending or whatever... He kills everyone."
>The corners of Judith's mouth curl from a blank expression into a sadistically psychotic grin, "I love it."
>I think I know why, "Are you my little reaper, Judith?" giving her a devilish glance
>Her eyes darken and lock on mine

>>32090236

>really fucked up childhood (I guess) which is what most of the 'fuck human nature' and drug stuff is about, coming home and seeing that everyone is still stuck
>had a fiancè
>broke up with me
>spiral of downhill, destructive behavior (another part of the drug references and degenerate references)
>end up with this other chick, better than anyone I've met but still crazy
>enlist
>getting close to showtime
>breaks up with me very close
>about to ship
>childhood sweetheart comes out of woodwork
>ship, love it more than anything, first time I felt like I had a home
>go home on leave after some time
>childhood sweetheart still hanging on, but I'm too in love with new lifestyle and too caught up on ex-fiancè to do anything with her
>tell her goodbye, drunk in a parking lot
>end up in AZ
>a little post far away from anything useful to do with your life
>stuck in syrup, metaphorically
>extreme loneliness and isolationism
>every time I contact home or go there, things are still fucked up
>after some time in service, transfer off of active into NG
>life is weird
>but I get to spend the last few deer seasons with my declining grandfather

What a ride.

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>>32090260
Light My Fire cont.

>Her eyes darken and lock on mine
>the words drip like venom from her tongue, "Behold zhe pale horse... Zhe man who sat on him vas death, and Hell followed vith him..."
>Then, she sensually bites her lower lip, never once breaking eye contact
>I think to myself, "Is this how she flirts? ... Cuz if it is, this is so hot..."
>Judith ends her evil grin with a giggle and takes the shirt
>she hugs it to her chest, "are you going to buy zhis for me?"
>"of course. Now, let's find you some pants."
>"eyeeee... yay!" Judith runs to the other side of the store
>I bring up the rear as the young german starts picking through the jeans
>"nein... nein... nein... heilige scheiße!"
>I kind of chuckle, "everything okay, there?"
>Judith frowns as she picks through the cubbies, "zhe legs are all so skinny!"
>"well, that's the fashion these days... I think... I'm so old, I don't even know anymore..." I finish the last part under my breath
>"vell, zhey look uncomfort-toble und tight."
>once again, I look up to the signs for direction
>skinny, untra-skinny... baggy!
>"Judith! Over here."
>I point the far column
>"Oh, okay." the young german reverses direction to explore the new baggy pants
>"Do you know you're size?"
>"Ja... ja..." She picks a pair
>solid black
>"well, let's at least try all this on before we leave."
>"Ja, you are probably right."
>just like that, Judith unbuttons her fatigue bottoms and begins to push them down her hips
>I raise both my hands in a stopping motion, "whoa! whoa! Not out here! In the dressing room..."
>"oh?" Confused, she tugs her britches back up, once again concealing her white cotton panties
>the young german begins to button them back up when I turn to get the absent-minded employee's attention
>he's just standing there, staring at what was once before him
>I feel my eyes narrow, "the hell are you looking at?!"
>before he can lie to me, I demand, "open the dressing room."
>the plebeian obeys and unlocks the dressing room

>>32090272
Well that explains a lot.
At least there's somewhat of a silver lining being able to spend the remaining deer seasons your grandfather has left with him.

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>>32090308
Light My Fire cont.

>the plebeian obeys and unlocks the dressing room
>it looks like a broom closet
>Judith steps in with her clothes and closes the door
>like a cuck, I wait outside
>I hope she likes her new clothes
>Hopefully, they fit
>I fight the urge to pull out my phone and check /k/, for she may be out any minute
>I peer around at my surroundings
>so much fetish wear...
>short tartan skirts
>black dresses with chains
>things Judith would look killer in, but would draw way too much attention for comfort in public
>maybe behind closed doors though?...
>Then, I hear the door crack from behind me, "Anon?"
>"Yeah?"
>"Ve are a couple, ja?"
>for some reason, my blood runs cold
>I don't know where this conversation is going
>uhmmm... "yeah."
>the door speaks again, "Ist zhat vhy you call me, Angel?"
>my heart-rate slows just a bit, "Yeah, it's a pet name couples give each other."
>"Ist it because I yam a pet-class gewehr?"
>"No, no... a pet name is like a..." struggling, "nickname that only couples use to refer to each other."
>"Nick... name?"
>"A name of endearment... It's a good name. I call you, 'Angel.'"
>"Ah."
>the door stays cracked for a long silence
>"C-can I give you a pet name, Anon?"
>"Well, sure."
>"Anyzhing I vant?"
>oh god... "uhh... sure. That's the point."
>"I-I vant to call you, 'Master.'"
>I sigh, "Now, I've been through this with Rose, I don't like being called that."
>"M-Master?"
>I don't respond. I do not respond to that name.
>"Master..."
>I do kinda like it when Judith does it though...
>Whining, "Masterrr..."
>"What?!"
>Covered by the cracked door, I hear Judith giggle in german, "Mein bottoms are too big in zhe vaist, I need a smaller size."
>the door opens by just a few inches, only enough for it to spit out the wadded up pants onto the floor nearby
>slam!
>guess I better get her another pair
>I find the next size under
>only pair left in that style
>solid black, baggy fit
>I take them up and knock at the dressing room door

>>32090335

Not just a little silver lining. I enjoy struggling every day. That exhaustion and fatigue and pucker-factor you feel when life is rough? That lets you know you're alive. The day I no longer feel that, I'll sell everything I own, donate whatever I don't need for travel to charity and go to Montana to live in the mountains before punching a grizzly in the face and fighting to the death.

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>>32090346
Light My Fire cont.

>I position the jeans in her grasp
>Instantly, Judith takes hold and snatches them inside... never to be seen again
>the door slams once again, and from the outside, I hear a muffled, "Danke!"
>"uh huh." I fold my arms over my chest
>I wait for a couple of more minutes before Judith finally comes out
>the door opens revealing the pretty, young german
>exposed pale arms now gracefully fall from the short sleeves, her right arm bent at the elbow holding her left arm against her body
>her black Grim Reaper t-shirt hangs just past the trim of her black jeans
>her pants are baggy, but none more than her fatigues in the first place
>the legs of which pile up on top of her new Converses
>my eyes roll down and up as I take it all in
>against her snowy skin, her dark clothes and her long, black, cascading hair, Judith has become even more captivating to look at
>I want to give her enormous black angels' wings now more than ever
>her chestnut eyes ask a thousand questions through her bangs but I answer all of them with one sentence
>"oh my god, you look beautiful."
>I can't look away
>Judith begins to blush, "I yam happy you like it, Master. I admit I vas scaret zhat you did not vant to be a couple vith me."
>I pull her into a loving hug, "of course I do..."
>but her slender hands take hold of my shoulders, "I vas scaret about a lot of zhings!"
>I pull her in tighter
>I feel her body press against mine
>"I never vant to be pulled apart again."
>oh my god...
>I say nothing, but I hold her head to my shoulder
>my hand stroking her long, dark, silky hair
>her body limp in my arms, I practically hold her up
>I hold Judith for what seems like four or five minutes, based on the song changes, before I kiss the top of her head and hold her at arms length
>before I can say anything, I notice her once vivid eyes are now bland and unfocused
>her thousand-yard stare has taken hold, face expressionless
>shit...
>it's like a recurring bad dream

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>>32090392
That's all I've got for y'all right now. Once Black Friday is on it's way out, I should be a tad more regular. Family will be gone and life will return to normal.
Pic related is something I found in my /ak/ picture folder. I don't have sauce, but her scars are very similar to how I see Kashka in my story. Of course, her physical appearance is closer to Upotte's AKM.
>yfw I'm confirming that Rose and Kashka will be left alone together at one point.
Apologies for any typos or errors. Against my better judgement, I'm rushing these things. Address all complaints to FortunateSons.

>>32090392
I knew it was going to happen, but damn that still got me.

>>32090392
Just when things were going so well, too.
I just want them to be happy.

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>>32090456
your pic reminded me about this

>>32090392
This stuff is great

>>32090346
Wait, not following your girl into the changing room is cuckery now?

I've got work to do then.

>>32090456
My secretary is on vacation for Thanksgiving, please forward those complaints to Hipoint Homie.

>>32090538
>All Waffengeists Go To Valhalla

>>32090902
Family dumped the flasks!

>>32091062
Kek

>>32090346
>Master
Heh. Kinky.

New Viktoria? New Viktoria.

>I'm awoken by the ever-incessant beeping of my alarm clock.

>Man...I'm really not looking forward to today.

>I pound the beeping little bastard, desperate to make it turn off. I only succeed in knocking it off the table

>"Fucking bullshit clock I swear to god I'm gonna shoot you"

>I chuck my wallet at, finally hitting the button to turn it off

>"Thank fucking christ" I say, easing back into my spot

>Next to me she lays still asleep, sprawled out ungracefully on her back with a trickle of drool running out the side of her mouth

>"Yo V. Wake the fuck up." I say, poking her in the side

>She flinches a bit, but still remains asleep

>"Wake. Up."

>I start shaking her and she mumbles in protest

>"Don't make me do this V."

>"F-...five more minutes."

>"Nope. You gotta get up."

>"Fuuuuck off" she grumbles

>"You asked for it."

>I stand up and move to the foot of the bed

>"You have to the count of three."

>"Gooo away"

>"One."

>"nooo"

>I grab the sheets

>"Two."

>"nooooooo"

>"Three."

>[Angry incoherent mumbling]

>I jerk the sheets down and off the bed, exposing her completely to the cold air

>She squeals and contracts into a ball, instinctively covering her handguards and magwell

>"WHAT THE FUCK."

>"Don't get mad at me dude. I warned you."

>>32091555
>She curls up tighter, obviously freezing

>"You alright?"

>"No I'm cold you dick!"

>"Aaand now I feel like a prick." I think to myself

>"You want the covers back?"

>"IS THE SKY BLUE?"

>"Fuck, fine. Geez."

>I toss the covers back up to her and she hurriedly scampers completely back under them, head and all

>"Ah fuck it." I say, lifting the covers and crawling back into bed

>After laying there for a minute or so, there's a voice from below the covers. "Wanna cuddle?"

>"Actually yes."

>She immediately slides up the length of my body and latches onto me, burying her head in my chest

>"I love you Anon." She says tenderly

>"I-I love you too."

>She settles herself on my leg once again, and the feeling of her neatly trimmed bush against me begins to push me into a different mindset

>After a few minutes of laying there, she begins lightly grinding against me, forcing her hips down and slowly moving up and down my leg. I feel the folds of her magwell flipping side to side as she rides

>Oh god please not this again

>"You're such a dick" she coos lovingly

>"Heh. Yeah..." I say awkwardly.

>"Speaking of which...what's this?" She says, sliding her hand down my stomach to my crotch

>Oh please not this again

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>>32089794
Nobody binned my two other stories. Fuck me.

Curses

The fifty-calibers rattle on even as the Bf-109 pulls up out of it's pass, trying desperately to damage any bit of the German aircraft, but falling too short as the distance between the B-17 and the 109 increases.

"Did we get hit in the last run?" The pilot, a stout man by the name of Tim, says with a hint of anxiety in his voice.

"We were, there's a hole the size of my dick in above the waist-gunners' position!" Exclaims Kaleb, the Flight Engineer, over the radio.

"Fuck, waist-gunners check in!" The pilot's voice rattles sternly over the comms. Thankfully it is met with the two gunners telling the pilot to calm down and assuring him they're OK.

The pilot lets out a sigh of relief, almost impressed that they has survived three passes from those damned G-models, ones that bear the new 30 MM gunpods.

As the pilot's eyes scan the sky for more Krauts, his eyes drift to the B-17 on his left, dubbed 'Smooth Betty' by her crew members. Tim's eyes widen as he suddenly spots the ball turret, facing partly in his direction and presenting a large hole towards Tim's plane.

"Patch me through to Smooth Betty right now!" Tim shouts through his headset, cuing the radio operator to begin getting on the right channel.

"-amn this machine I fly in!" Is the voice the crew is met with as they're finally put in through to Smooth Betty.

cont.

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>>32091593

The crew of Tim's '17 watches Smooth Betty in shock, the pilot's voice giving them all a sudden jolt.

"Damn it all! Damn this war! Damn this life!" The pilot screams beckon Tim's mouth to slowly open in an attempt to reach out to the raging man.

"This is Three-Oh-Five to Smooth Betty, check in with your ball turret to confirm if he's alright." Tim says, Smooth Betty's pilot stopping for a good ten seconds before he finally speaks.

"He's dead. My entire crew is dead apart from me and my bombardier." The pilot says, voice sounding dazed.

"Pilot, how badly are you and the bombardier hurt?" Tim says, eyeing the cockpit with utmost intensity.

"I got a good bit of shrapnel in my back, bombardier is probably faring just as well as me." The pilot's voice causes Tim to grip the yaw even tighter with dread.

"Smooth Betty how is your craft? Can you make it to target?" Tim tries desperately to get some hope from this entire situation, but the slivers of hope are quickly fading.

The pilot doesn't respond for another twenty seconds, the pilot appears to look around, probably checking for any visible damage on the B-17. Tim's eyes begin to scan the B-17 again, this time he notices the motionless co-pilot, the large tears in the fuselage where the waist-gunners were supposed to be, and the now-noticeable arm hanging and bouncing from the blown-open ball turret.

"Damn this all." The pilot starts back up, visibly swaying back and forth in the seat as he loses more and more blood.

All the sudden, a high-pitched wail comes from above as a 109 comes zooming in from Smooth Betty's six-o'-clock. Green and white tracers, some the size of tennis balls, slam into the bomber with supreme force.

Smooth Betty shudders and begins to roll over as 30 MM HE shells slice through the wing and fuselage, cuing a bright flash to erupt from the left wing, opposite side from Tim's plane.

cont.

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>>32091607

"Damn these Germans! Damn my death! Damn it all! Damn the heavens! Damn the he-" The pilot's voice cuts out as the B-17 visibly tears apart due to the high speed, sending smoking engines and large chunks of aluminum soaring over the German countryside.

Tim leans back in his seat, trying his best to forget everything he just saw and heard. His meditation is cut short, however, by Kaleb's voice coming over the comms.

"109 five-o'-clock!" The Flight Engineer calls out before the Boeing is suddenly lit up by the same tracers that took down Smooth Betty. Tim sits up quickly after bracing for the run on the bomber and immediately taps into his comms.

"Hello! Who's alright?" The only voice that responds back is the tail gunner's voice, however it was labored and presented little more than a few uncomfortable groans and grunts, clearly showing that he's probably not going to last the next fifty minutes there and back to the base.

Tim grips the yoke tighter than ever now as he begins to notices that he's lost all rudder control, no matter how hard he presses the rudder he still can't seem to force the bomber to turn.

Tim looks down, trying to find a reason as to why the rudders are jammed, but only finding his right leg blasted open, from a 30-MM no doubt.

Tim looks up, beginning to feel like passing out any second, and leans his head against the window on his left. And as his eyes begin to shut on their own and it gets harder and harder to breathe, he speaks one last time.

"Damn my legs."

>End

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>>32091631

Hotel Ivan

Fritzhelm jolts awake as he hears a building collapse just across the street from him and his squad's position within the Russian hotel. The hotel is referred to as Hotel Ivan by Fritz and his squad-mates, in fact it was him who coined the name as a joke shortly after they arrived at their then-new position.

The MG-42 gunner sits up slowly, dirt and little splinters of wood from bombardments from the night fall off of him as he raises himself into a crouching position just a couple of feet from a window.

Although Fritzhelm is very content with being a support gunner, he can't help but wonder what it would be like to be in a different branch of the Wehrmacht.

As the thought of being in a different branch tumbles through his mind, another thought slowly makes it way to the forefront of Fritzhelm's focus:

What if he wasn't in the Wehrmacht at all?

Fritzhelm's eyes drift all around the room as he thinks of a peaceful civilian life. Maybe he'd be a rifle craftsman; Fritz's father was a smart man and made sure to teach his son the ins and outs of guns, specifically sporting rifles, at a young age. So, needless to say, being a rifle maker would be a rather enjoyable profession for the tall German.

Fritz smiles as he imagines a normal life: Being able to go to sleep whenever he wants, being able to say whatever the hell he pleases, having a wife, hell- even getting up to the sounds of birds chirping instead of buildings collapsing. The thought of a normal life nearly brought Fritz to tears.

The German slowly scoots his way up to the window he was closest to which also faces towards the building that collapsed just a minute or two ago. Fritzhelm comes to stop just to the left of the window and positions himself to where he has a small vantage of the newly-collapsed building, dust still floating and dispersing.

A sound shoots to the German's ears just out of visible range of Fritz, causing him to lean farther out while crouching.

Cont.

>>32086712
>>32086803

Of course, I'm glad people actually want the feelsy stuff. I do have an idea for a short that I'll work on tomorrow most likely. Sticks and Stoners will continue as ideas come for it, but I don't want to take it too fast and ruin it.

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>>32091641
Three figures take long strides as they carefully maneuver through the collapsed building, trying their best to not slip on any of the rubble. Fritzhelm immediately freezes, trying to contemplate on how to handle the situation.

The German gets on his knees and turns to face the other window before leaning towards it and grabbing his MG-42 from the floor under the window. As Fritz sets the barrel on the windowsill, he notices the figures were beginning to retreat into the buildings that lay behind the rubble, one of them has already gotten behind a wall.

Fritz opens up on the two remaining figures with a long burst and quickly swipes his gun across the area the two soldiers are in, effectively hosing both down.

The first soldier tenses, his shoulders coming up as far as they can while he reaches out for the wall in front of him. Fritz watches keenly as the soldier turns to his left, arm dropping to his side and rifle falling to the ground as the Russian drops suddenly. It was almost as if a boy was finally done playing with a toy and dropped it on the ground, never to pick it up again.

The second soldier, however, immediately turns away from the wall and sprints towards the road between the collapsed building and the hotel, obviously in utter confusion. His arms flail about him as he desperately tries to wave off the bullets or maybe pull the air behind him in an attempt to go faster, but his efforts are in total vein as his injuries quickly catch up to him and he stumbles in the street, rolling several times before coming to a stop in a spread-eagle pose.

Fritz begins to dismount the MG-42 from the sill but stops dead in his tracks as he sees the third Russian in a prone position peaking from behind the door frame. Almost as if it is Fritz's instinct, he automatically pulls the trigger, sending dust flying up around the Russian and forcing the Russian to try and retreat.

cont.

>>32091593
Don't worry, it usually takes Archivefag a day to update 'bins, then after that, Polybus gets to update the sticky with your story.

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>>32091647

The third Russian stands suddenly in a jagged manner, jerking in an almost robot-like fashion, and immediately stumbles behind the wall, out of sight of Fritzhelm.

The gunner stares for what feels like half an hour but is really just a minute before he even thinks about moving. Fritz slowly lifts the MG and lowers it to the ground under the window before turning and pressing his back against the wall, letting out a long sigh as what just happened really sinks it.

Fritz's other German squad-mates in the room stare at the gunner with terrified looks, almost as if he had just burned their mothers in front of their eyes. It's obvious that they were woken up by Fritz's 42 when he opened fire on the Russians, but adrenaline flowed through their veins nevertheless, albeit wasted fighting power seeing as Frtiz killed the three Ivan already.

Fritz looks at Gunther, the second-in-command of Frtiz's squad, and nods at him.

"Time?" The words were dry and hoarse from the cold temperature.

"Three-O'-Clock. Get some fucking rest and wake us up next time." Gunther says, tired and angry at missing out on getting to fire his weapon.

Fritz doesn't respond to Gunther's boldness with him but instead lies with his back to the wall and drifts to sleep.

cont.

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>>32091658

Fritz's eyes flutter as Gunther gives him a stern kick to his side to wake the gunner up. The tall German rolls onto his stomach and rolls a second time onto his back in an attempt to get his blood flowing and wake himself up.

The German scans the ground once him and his squad have left their third-floor home, his eyes coming to rest on the two Russian men which he killed last night. Fritz slowly approaches, moving his MG-42 to the side to search the Russian man that lay in the road closest to the hotel.

Fritz's fingers tremble as he retrieves a leather booklet from the man's left trouser pocket, fearing what may wait on the inside of it.

And just as he thought, a young girl's face peers out from inside the leather booklet. Fritz stares at the woman who he has widowed for a solid minute before he finally drops the booklet in the snow and marches onward, holding back any sob or mournful wail that builds inside him.

The second man lies with both arms frozen by his side in a stiff manner, his face swollen on one side from where he was hit by the MG. Fritz does another search, this time retrieving a crumpled letter in a torn-open, dirty envelope. The gunner is reluctant to read it, fearing the exact same thing he did when searching the first man, but eventually decides to read it, much to his despair.

From what little Russian he learned form the translator in the month prior to his squad moving into Stalingrad, Fritz could make out several small words like "Mama," "Father," and "Little one,"- Possibly referring to a little sister of the Russian.

Fritz tightens his grip on the letter in both hands,causing a small tear to make it's way down the middle of the paper before the gunner drops it and moves onward.

The third Russian was not hard to find, he simply positioned himself directly to the left of the doorway after being fatally wounded, making the job much easier for Fritz to figure out where the last Ivan was.

cont.

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>>32091666
Immediately after laying eyes upon the dead Russian, tears run down Fritz's dry and cracked skin, leaving visible brown trails as they run over the caked dirt that stains the German as deeps as his actions have.

The Russian must not have been older than sixteen. This soldier- no- this boy's life was taken from him by Fritz. The gunner closes his eyes while facing the body, trying to come up with a story to convince himself he didn't just kill a young child, but ultimately failing to convince himself that he took the life of a child.

Fritz immediately turns and stomps back towards the hotel, MG-42 slung over his back and head low as he enters the hotel. Gunther looks up from a small map after noticing the obvious tear streams on Fritz.

"Fritzhelm, are you OK?" Gunther asks, brows furrowing in concern.

Fritz looks up at him with empty eyes and a slight frown as the recent memories run through his mind's eye at a rapid pace.

"Why can't I have a normal life?"

>End

>>32091656
Oh OK, thank God. I was afraid all my work would be lost.

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>>32086712
Also fuck you and fuck that series. I didn't need to remember what happens to the blind loli.

>>32091576
>Ywn be sexually assaulted by your rifle
Why live

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So anons, how about that Korean war story?

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A Small Zone of Comfort

Part 15 - Canned Feelings

You wake up, a bit groggily, as you shuffle around a bit. Sun coming in through the dilapidated roof, you are suddenly jolted awake with the sound of empty cans crashing.

“What in the-”

You look to your right, and see your rifle now lying in a pile of empty, shot out cans.

Wait.

You’re back here again?

Ah dammit. At least you were feeling a bit better this time around. The calm, familiar setting, your rifle at your side, all giving you a personal area of pleasantness. Not time to dwell on these feeling, you decide, you reach over to Lucy, you pick her up and dust her off a bit.

“Sorry Lucy, didn’t realize you were so close. Didn’t mean to knock you over in my waking.”

A moment later, she materializes in front of you, rubbing her head a bit.

“I’m okay.” she says. You're a bit surprised, usually it would take more to get her out here. Maybe yesterday had really worked?

“How are you feeling today?” you ask.

Any answer that would have come is interrupted by a heavy growling from your stomach. After passing out from exhaustion yesterday, you missed dinner. And breakfast, judging by the time on your PDA.

“Damn it, “ you exclaim as you ruffle through your backpack. Maybe that’s why it was lighter yesterday; you forgot the food you had left out for Lucy back in that building.

You begin to think out loud. “Let's see, if I take the northern route out, I should get to the Rookie Village in 3, maybe four days? I’d gone longer without food sleeping in my car. Oh, I could hunt boar in the meantime, but maybe not here; these swamp boars are really aggressive. I have plenty of water purification tablets left, so I’m fine there. Although swamp water…”

>>32091789

During all this you barely register Lucy looking around, and then up. What takes you completely out of your thoughts is how she quickly climbs up a broken part of the wall, into the “attic” of this small house.

“Lucy?” you ask, a bit worried as you see dust filter down from the ceiling and dull thumps of her crawling.

A moment later and you jump back in surprise as her head pokes out, giving an unusual grin.

“Found one.” she responds to your implied question.

A moment later a rather large pack, wrapped in a blue and white sheet, comes down at you and you struggle to stop its momentum with a catch.

A heavy load you quickly drop as Lucy herself jumps back down, right into your arms. She gives a sheepish grin as she quickly hops out and walks over to the bag.

“How did you-”

“Someone I- used to know.” she answers, a bit more solemnly now. “He was considered clumsy, awkward, even useless. Couldn’t shoot. Yelled at for losing these. But- he was kind.” She finishes, smiling a bit more. “I miss him.”

“We can always-” but she interrupts your attempt to comfort her as she finishes opening up the bag.

“Food.” she says, pointing the opening at you.

Damn, there was a lot of cans in there. And other supplies.

>>32091794

You spend the next couple of minutes getting food ready for Lucy and yourself. She was just as eager to eat as you. Still didn’t understand quite where it all went, but you’ll just chuck that into the pile of unsolvable mysteries about the Zone.

After finishing, you proceed to examine the rest of the contents. Enough food to last for a long excursion into the zone, some medkits, anitrad, other supplies. What really surprised you was a box of 7.62×54mm. Lucky you.

All the while Lucy would walk around, examine some of the rusted, shot out cans fondly, look out of the building, and generally satisfying whatever whims came over her.

You think back to the other day and agree. She’s a fine rifle, but also a really good Stalker to explore The Zone with.

A full belly, a restored spirit, and your now curious rifle walking around, you felt you were ready to go.

“No, wait. Boars. This morning, they’re still around.”she interrupts.

Boars? You’re sure you could sneak out around them, but Lucy continues.

“Stay. For a while longer.”

She’s even making decisions now? You want to get going, but at the same time you’d like to show you respect her opinion. Her having secured plenty of food, there wasn’t a huge rush to get moving now, so you agree.

You laid out your tarp again and sat down, making sure there was more than enough room for Lucy.

She takes a seat by you and stares off into the same space you are, occasionally looking back at you.

“Did you have fun yesterday?” you ask.

“Mmmm.” she responds, slowly nodding in the affirmative.

“Hey, I know I ask you a lot of things, so how about I tell you a little about me?” you ask.

Her eager eyes seem to consent to the story.

>>32091803

You start by explaining you and your brother. How he would seemingly taunt you by doing everything better and then denying you the opportunity. Your parents that fought a lot but still stuck together. The time you moved together to America, but moved back to Ukraine with your parents years later. The time sneaking out on Uncle Peter’s farm, mosin in hand. Your brother rating you out, and then up and leaving your life. Your drop out of university as you thought you knew better, with your brother out of the picture. The years afterward, drifting from job to job, always fucking up the relationships along the way. The cold winters you spent in your beat up car, cursing at everyone and everything. Recognizing that maybe your brother wasn’t so bad after all.And finally why you were here, holding the bullet out for her to look as you explain that you were looking for your brother, and opportunity if it came your way.

The bullet necklace, now in her hand, is turned over and examined by her. The last part of the story probably went over her head as she now plays with the artifact. Tossing it up and catching it after it’s slow descent. It’s nice, to just sit here and watch this.

“My first memory was of blood, and screams.” she says, as she continued to toss the bullet and watch it’s slow descent. Your stomach knots up, not even wanting to imagine the horrors that made her like this. But you wait patiently to continue.

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>>32091808

“I didn’t know what I was, then. I still am not sure now. But I was promptly made to understand. The man in white made me understand. That I was a rifle. His rifle. “ you notice her tensing up at this, making her words come out more sharply. “I was a thief, when I was like this.” she gestures to her current human form, bullet glistening in the sun shaft that came through the broken wall. Tossing it up once more, she continues ”I stole the weapon, denying it like this. Pain. Regret? Things new to me I learned. But it wasn’t untill you that I understood more. That I was broken.”

“You weren’t broken, just needed-”

“Fixing, yes. I couldn’t see well, without a scope. I was horribly disfigured. Part of why I didn’t like being like this. But I was also a rifle. My “body” was steel, my function of bullets. This blood and flesh was not good.. The man in white made sure I understood. I always functioned, then, as a rifle. I was proud of that fact. The only thing I had. Until I couldn’t be, anymore. The man in white, I couldn’t see him destroy anymore. And so I did something that made me broken. I didn’t fire.”

Back in the tunnel? That was her?

“Yes. I didn’t understand then, though. But you took me then. In my brief existence, you treated me with kindness. To come here to find my scope. I felt like I should break that taboo, if only for a moment, and show you the way.”

“You saved my life,” you respond.

“...yes. But you saved mine. The scope, I could see. The grip, I could feel. Even this-” she takes out what looks like a small machined clip, and pulls her hair back into a long ponytail. Using the metal clip, she binds her hair like that. “-this new scope mount. You cared for me as a rifle.”

>>32091820

“And- “ she says, looking down now and blushing “you were my first. No one had ever handled me that way, especially that gently.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“You cleaned me methodically, even when you were in great pain, back when we were last here.”

Oh. “Well of course. You were the first gift The Zone ever gave me, and I needed something to keep me alive. I’m glad it turned out to be you,” you respond.

She beams at that statement, and continues on “I am a bit clumsy like this. I have feeling, but don’t understand. I can breathe, walk, talk. Just as I can sight, reciprocate my action, and eject casings. The later three I understand, it is who I am. The former I do not understand. You say I can be useful like this, and I can see from the last two days that may be true.”

“But-” she begins to scold, pointing at you now “don’t forget I am also a rifle. That is who I really am. Do not hesitate to use me, like you hesitated to yesterday.”

“Okay, okay. But there really was no shooting out of that one, trust me. “

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>>32091825

“Fine.” she says, crossing her arms and pouting, a little. These new expressions of hers are too cute, and you can’t resist moving your hand to her head. Before reason can stop you, or Lucy from recoiling, you make contact; starting to ruffle the hairs between her ears.

Oh no. You forgot the no head touching policy. But all she does is just twitch for a bit, continuing her fake pout. Seeing this as consent you continue.

A long silence is spent, just the two of you like that.

You plan the next steps. Back up north, through the Cordon and Garbage, to the bar. Sell the extra artifact you have, and see what the information broker turned up. And maybe why those men were after you. And you’ll just go from there.

You still have questions for Lucy, but you’re happy to let them lie for a while. It was an effort for her to even talk that much, you can tell. You’re confident with time she’ll open more up to you, and you two can find the answers you seek together.

For now, you’re happy just the two of you. The morning air streaking in, Lucy leaning on your shoulder as you continue to run your fingers through her soft chestnut hair.

Right now is only pleasant and warm.

And you’ll continue on to protect this.

This small zone of comfort.

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>>32091834

So that finishes Act I.

The story will continue, but after a small timeskip when we continue with Act II, and a small pause in posting.

I need a break; I’ve been posting one part a thread, for the last 19 threads. Proud of that, but I need to step back and recharge the creative juices for a bit.

I hope you all have enjoyed what I've written so far; and will look forward to more when I get around to posting Act II. Thank you for your continued support!

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>>32090456
>I'm confirming that Rose and Kashka will be left alone together at one point
>confirmed
PTR is really going to do it guise!!!!!

ITT not weapons

>>32091840
>Act 2 confirmed
Hell yes, I'm looking forward to it.
Thanks for being so consistent with the updates, you deserve a break for all you've done.

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>>32092062
You wouldn't a rifle?

Amidst the thoughts of airfoils, hovercraft and the third phase of permanent invisibility, the desire to write strikes.
Serial one, signing on.

>Wait, where is she?
You cry out her name as you begin to swivel your head around in search of her. She must've hurt herself so bad after smacking her head on the metal structure.

It became apparent that your suspicions are true as you see her lying on what appears to be a sleeping bag, her head wrapped in some sort of bandage. A lone girl with glasses sat beside her, seemingly monitoring her condition.

You try and wiggle so as to reach Amelia, but you sense a presence standing over.

>"Don't worry, she is going to be OK. Anne is Israeli, many doctors Israeli."
,a tall woman spoke out.

You haven't seen much examples of such people in person, but she appears to be Slavic in origin. She is in a greatcoat and an ushanka topped her long dark hair, which would be extremely uncomfortable in a tropical country like this.

Wait...isn't she the one who stepped on your arm?

>"I am so sorry after I stepped on your arm earlier, OK? Now, just stay there. She is alright."

Nothing seems to be a better option at the moment, so you just stay put.

>"That is better. I am Strela."

She then puts out her hand, expecting yours to reach out and shake it.

You just stare at her as if she just told you a badly-written joke.

She looks over to your bondage, then her eyes slowly make their way back to meet yours. Borscht is clearly spilling out.

>"Oh. I am so sorry, did not mean it. Who are you?"

>I am Anon.

>"Okay, okay."

She just then turns away to face the other direction, her right palm meeting her temple in what you believe to be a gesture of self-disappointment.

Your thoughts now returned to Bill. Did he really just broke apart that fast? What were those things that he said? What's with Sweden?

His stare goes past the walls of the building.

Natalie sat alongside him, holding his hand so as to comfort him in his darkest hour.

>>32092224
>tfw no assault rifle to hug

>>32091840
Eets good. Take your time to recharge and have some more fun with Act II.

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>>32091702

The Deadly 38th

It is at the bottom of a narrow valley that runs between two steep hills covered in foliage where an M-47 Patton cruises slowly down a road towards a village, a motorized unit pulling themselves along behind the hulking tank.

The tank halts suddenly as rapids shots ring out through the valley and bullets strike the hood of the truck behind the tank, causing the driver to swerve to the left and slam the brake, parking the truck in a diagonal position on the road.

"Where the hell did that come from?" Josey, the tank loader asks worriedly.

"I'll be damned if I knew." Tony, the tank commander says sternly, rotating the visor on his hatch to try and locate a source of the shooting.

"Ten-o'-clock, they're up about fifty feet." Tony says as more shots ring out, giving him a clear view of the smoke and muzzle flashes in front of the column.

The tank's turret turns, zeroing in on the gunfire shortly before it stops, obviously noticing the ninety-millimeter facing towards them.

"HE in?" Tony asks, Josey replies with a nod, cuing Tony to tap Wallace in the back with his boot.

The great ninety roars, slinging a shell just above the position of the machine-gunners in the hills. Shortly after the explosion, a great deal of yelling and screaming emanates from the general direction of the now-silent gunfire.

"You didn't have to compensate, you fucker! Waste what's left of those gooks with the thirty!" Tony scolds Wallace, who remains silent with embarrassment.

The co-axel thirty caliber chatters, sending seven-millimeter chunks of lead soaring right at the remaining Koreans. The reaction was almost immediate, the screaming stopped and figures could be seen rolling down the slope, eventually coming to a stop at the left side of the road.

After a couple of minutes of no gunfire, the tank lurches forward and continues down the road, this is followed by the truck straightening out and leading the rest of the column down the road.

cont.

>>32092241
>Have SKS
>But she's living with the folks until I graduate
It feels like I've abandoned a child to be taken care of her grandparents, and I pine to see her again. At least I'll be able to visit during Christmas Break and get to shoot her again.

>>32092270
Sweet! Just what I have been waiting for!

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>>32090230
Thread's still up. Hope you slept well.

>>32090471
>>32090519
I'm not so sure I can deliver the ending everyone wants.

>>32090538
I love to see rifles and pistols like that still holding their own at the range.

>>32090709
Thanks, Fluffy! I really enjoy Judith's motif of tossing undesirables far away from herself on the floor. But now dating, we will find out Judith's flaws.

>>32090721
Not really. Relative to RPK, maybe. I wrote that part very cynically.

>>32090902
Everyone, take ALL complaints to HiPoint Homie's desk. All in favor of making him our thread's new HR department?

>>32091522
[shifty eyes]

>>32091576
>oh please not this again
There are no brakes on this train.
I did enjoy the bit with the alarm clock very much.

>>32092055
Sure, they'll play checkers or something.

>>32092062
I'll bite. Just in this general's short life so far, take a wild stab at how many of use are buying new weapons based on the stories of others.

>>32092241
It'll get better. Enjoy your Mauser. She enjoys you.

>>32092290
Better than what I did to mine.
>pulled a FortunateSons and sold her.
Feels bad, man.

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>>32092335
Join me on the feel side. Our power will be unlimited!

Also I'd just give Hipoint the title of "Head of Bitching Department". Not even HR, people just bitch at him for unrelated things.

>>32092270
Things looks much better for the crew than with Betty. Nice to see something like this to balance out the raifu fics

>>32090538
WE RIDE TO VALHALLA, SHINY AND CHROME

>>32092453
>come to the feels side
We'll see.

Without shit-posting too much, HiPoint Homie is going to need a stack of "reason(s) for butthurt" forms. ie: This thread isn't weapons related, why are there no AR-15 stories, my left foot hurts, PTRfag will never deliver yuri, FortunateSons said mean things, JTfag's a grill? Why won't my RAS-47 sexually assault me? etc.

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>>32092335
>>32092453
>>32092639
Nigga what. I ain't dealin with no one's complaints. I'd sooner pop a cap in their ass than listen to their bitchin.

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>>32092270

An hour after the firefight occurred on the road and the column finally arrives in Chi Qahn village; a small town that overlooks a large mountain range know for having large amounts of NK movement through it.

The Patton rolls to a stop, causing the column to spread out while they park, producing a circle-like pattern reminiscent of settlers rounding their wagons. The Patton is parked facing down what can be considered "Main Street", a long and wide street with buildings on either side, leading to a T-intersection about a thousand feet down the road.

The crew of the tank automatically open their hatches once the steel monster fully stops, injecting fresh mountain air into the gunpowder-filled rolling box. Brent, the driver, turns to Tony as he gets out of the commander's hatch.

"Hey Tony, I was meaning to ask you before we stopped, but do you have a lighter? I ran out of matches a couple of stops ago and didn't think to ask until a couple of minutes ago." Tony reaches into his pocket and pulls out a silver zippo bearing a capital "TA" on the side before handing it to the driver.

Brent rejoices as he lights a cig and inhales deeply, letting the thoughts of ambushes and firefights melt away with every breath.

"Hey Tony, what does 'TA' stand for?" Asks Brent, eyeing the zippo curiously.

"Tony Attikson, my full name, spare the middle one." Tony says, gesturing at Josey for a swig out of his canteen, to which the loader obliges.

"Damn, I think that's the first time we've heard your last name. Well what's you middle name, huh?" Brent asks, turning from his forward-facing position and facing the commander who beams the driver a look between annoyed and sincere.

"I'd rather not say." Tony says, causing Brent to give Tony a disappointed look.

"Come on, Tony, you've drug us this far, don't give us blue-balls, just tell us your name!" Brent begs, causing Wallace, a man of Irish decent with a Belfast accent, to groan with annoyance and shake his head.

cont.

>>32092683
Bet it begins with a "N".
>TNA

>>32089794

I'm the faggot from last night. Anybody wanna read some Aldo Leopold-esque verbage on conservation and a changing rural environment that I wrote upon first returning to cattle country?

So, do we post sci-fi here? I've got a military sci-fi thing I'm working on. Maybe someone more autistic than me can correct my amateurish depiction of squad tactics.

>>32092335
>I'm not so sure I can deliver the ending everyone wants.
Fuck
It is your story, so you can do with it what you want
However, it's gonna suuuuuck if you've taken us along for this entire ride and then turn the story into an 'everything goes to shit and they're all fucked' situation.

>"... and by far my least favorite thing of the war were those fucking canned pecan rolls." The old man said with a laugh, eliciting a laugh from you as well
>You had recieved an assignment to find a surviving veteran of world war two, and found one that happened to join at an extremely young age
>He lived by himself in a modest home with his partner, which you were sure was just as interesting as the man himself
>"But, then again there was the bulge, that alone was enough to ruin anyones day..." He said again wistfully, as the woman came out of the kitchen with a french press and a trio of coffee cups
>She was tall, muscular, and blonde. One could say she was the spitting image of the american beauty in the 1930s and 40s, with her shortish bobbed hair and curvy figure to tie it all together.
>She wore more modern clothing though, a maroon turtleneck and what looked suspiciously like jogging pants
>"No, my dear." She said softly, placing a cup infront of the older man.
>"What ruined our days was when you were caught in a panic and insisted on loading my clips in backwords." She murmured with a soft smilen and the old man threw his hands into the air dramatically
>"We were being shelled and trees were exploding! And I only did it once!" He exclaimed, and just for a moment you saw a glimpse of the animated young man that carried the rifle through life and death in the Battle of the Bulge
>"Oooh of course, ONLY once." She said with a wink in your direction, and then poured you a steaming cup of super dark coffee. No sugar or cream was in sight and they both happily sipped at theirs. Time to embrace the holy bitter.
>You just got a slightly overhot mouthful when the old man gave a slight cough and then had a minor bout of a fit
>The woman leaped up and held his shoulders gently and wiped at his mouth with the him of her sweater delicately, in which he nodded thankfully
>"Anywho, the germans..."

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AMD Collab with HiPointHomie

>It’s range day for you and your AMD-65, Mata.
>While she is an AK pattern, she goes out of her way to point out she is not Slavic.
>She's the pride of your collection, the only non-US made rifle you have that is closest to military specs.
>Lack of selector switch and 16" barrel aside, that is.
>A few magazines later, you look over the ventilated silhouette target with a smile, the majority of hits between 1-1.5 MOA at 40 yards.
“Pretty good stuff today,” you say, showing the paper to the bunny eared Waffegeist.
“It's still only paper,” she says with a slight frown.
“Oh come on, Mata. It's not so bad in the civvie world, is it?” you say, using your phone to take a picture of the freshly used target.
“I am a military grade combat rifle. I was not made for this… this sportlövészet,” she complains, stumbling into her native tongue for a moment.
“Sport shooting isn't too different from training,” you argue as you put the mags back into your range bag.
>Mata just grumbles under her breath as her long ears twitch in annoyance
>The walk back to the car is quiet
>As you climb into the driver’s seat you give Mata a look and see she has a pensive look on her face as she clips her seat belt on.
>The drive is silent, Mata staring out the window at passing scenery with a frown marring her cute face.

>>32093121
“Talk to me, Mata,” you say as you drive with the sulking bunny of a Waffegeist beside you.
>Her left ear twitches, acknowledging you, but she stays stubbornly quiet.
>You're used to her moods by now, however, and just wait her out.
>She finally breaks the silence with a sigh.
>“Sometimes I miss my old life of being a paratrooper,” she mutters.
“That still bothers you?” you question, flicking the blinker.
“I'm a rifle built for military service, not shooting at steel and paper targets,” she huffs.
“I know, hon, but you're not in the service anymore, or even Hungary for that matter,” you state as you merge into traffic
“Don't remind me,” she sighs, slumping down in her seat, ears drooping. “I miss jumping out of planes while strapped to a Hungarian paratrooper. I miss the rush of the wind against me as my soldier and I would jump.”
“Do you miss being locked away for weeks and months at a time in a lonely, cold armory?” you ask, glancing towards her as you drive.
>Mata replies with an incoherent grumble, looking away and back out the window.
“Do you miss not having freshly cooked food daily?” you continue, pulling off the highway.
>More grumbling.
“Do you miss only getting the occasional liver and meat cream rations?”
>You turn down the road leading to home.
>Mata says nothing but shudders at the mere mention of those MREs.

>>32093127
“Do you miss not sleeping on a real bed, but on a rack instead?” you ask as you park the car in front of the house.
“Oké Oké, én kap ez. I get it,” she grumbles, crossing her arms and huffing as you exit the car, walking around to her side of the vehicle.
>You then open the door for her.
“I can open door myself, you know,” she says with an arched eyebrow and twitch of her ears.
“You're a lady and I'll treat you as such. Not my fault you're still not used to it,” you smile.
“Bolond,” she mutters under her breath as she climbs out of the car.
“Oh, hush,” you tease, wrapping your arms around the bunny eared Waffegeist and pulling her into a hug.
“Most of all, do you miss not being my cuddle bunny?”
>You stroke her ears and ruffle her hair in conjunction with the teasing, making her blush a deep crimson before she pushes her forehead into your chest.
“I'm a service tier rifle, damn it!” she declares out of anger and embarrassment.
“Yes, you are, you are a service tier cuddle bunny of a rifle,” you say with a smile as you tighten your hug around the sputtering Mata. You release her just enough to step back so as to look down at her.
“Now, come on. I'll give you a good cleaning. I even got that shampoo that keeps your tail fluffed the way you like it.”
>You stroke one of her ears as you speak.
“Fine, but I am NOT cute!” she declares, still blushing furiously.
>She then marches into in the house in a huff.
>You smile watching her go
“Ah, so adorable.”

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>>32093017
>>32093121
>>32093127
>>32093138
>Sitting in library trying to write paper
>Check WFG
>See all this good shit
>Desire to write fiction instead of research paper
>Can't cause graduation

And yet when I get home I'll just drink and play vidya instead of writing :^)

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>>32093121
>>32093127
>>32093138
Wrong picture. FUCK

>>32092660
You would sooner offer them propane than shoot them, and we both know it.
>>32092639
Come on m8, immortality through feels is great.
>>32093138
Bath time bunny when.

>>32092660
Mr. HRPoint Homie, why won't my rifle speak to me?

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>>32093017
>While the old man spoke, you noticed the woman had her fingers intertwined with the old mans and her eyes seemed to linger on his face
>You could see little... glimpses in her eyes as he spoke, and your eyes fought to maintain allegiance to the gesturing man, and the brief glimpses of an exploding forest in her eyes
>The old man spoke of a veteran german soldier mowing down half a squad with an STG-44 while he fought to reload with frozen thumbs
>Then you would glance at her and see... see his hands fumbling with a clip of ammunition while men fall in the background
>"And before I knew it, they were all pulling back and we had men running all over! I started running towards th-" He stopped, and had another coughing fit, this time a little more violent than the last
>The woman jumped up again and patted his back gently while the other held onto his shoulder, and it was not a secret that she was worried as she wore it plain on her face
>The anguish of watching her shooter grow old while she stayed as young as the day she was imbued into the rifle
>" Cmon sweetheart, get it all out." She called to him softly, and again she held the hem of her sweater to his face, her toned stomach and pelvic bones exposed to the air
>The older man finally made it through his fit and wheezes out a laugh, watery eyes meeting your own, face caught in an old and practiced grin
>"The things we do to the ones we love, eh son?" He said, laughing roughly once again
>The woman smiled with him, but only sadness radiated from it

>>32094065
Try drinking the stuff under the sink, that'll help.

day 111.

So I went to the med bay as I have been having this god damn awful headache, of late.

They did an MRI and found a slight abnormal development in the frontal lobes. Apparently someone must have applied a little too much electricity when I was in the tank.

Anyways the part of my brain that was affected by this issue is associated with linguistic ability and writing.

The doctor decided to insert a chip in my brain that would make up for the manufacturing defect, in my brain.

Suffice to say I am really pleased with this upgrade, as my writing has improved significantly.

Any ways, as one of the first days off I decided to take Selvia out and go to the theater and watch a play.

The play was an adaptation of hamlet, Dear god how old is this shit I mean it was old in my VR tank simulation and that was taking place in the 2000s . So its around what 1k years old now..
Any way Selvia really enjoyed the play, half way through she leaned up on my shoulder...
Score one for me...
Any ways mark sent a message to me through the com net. Yes that's right this place has a communications net work not a tube system. I still miss the tubes you could always get a good prank by putting a time delayed flash bang to your co workers..

Anyways Mark invited me to have a talk about "some important stuff."
What the hell it is I don't know.

>>32092639
wait JT fags a grill. Wholly shit...

>>32094378
Ouch.
Good thing I only have solids under the sink.

>>32094395
There are no girls on the internet.

>>32094474
>Guy
>In
>Real
>Life

>>32094474
You are fools to believe they are females. Ive personally seen both of their penises

>>32094380
day 112.

So I went to Marks office, the major surprise was that he had an office. Guess when you are important enough you get shit.

So any way we shoot the shit for around 10 minuets. basic stuff how shitty the sand storms are, the dumbass who thought it would be a good idea to install a sex bot AI in his mech's computer.

Then mark said "Do you know why your here."

Of course me being the dumb ass I am I said "I don't know you called me here."

Mark got a laugh out of that and mentioned the fact that despite only having 60 percent of his old friends genetics I still am just as fucking clueless.

He went on to explain that his old friend Francis knew each other for around 100 years they served in a pmc together. Any how during one op Francis got his brains blown out, and they couldn't recover the body at the time. When they returned some one had taken his body.

Some how lo and behold Francis genetic information was obtained by Monsanto, the same corp that shat me into existence.

For what ever reasons that were lost to history they decided he was a great genetic base to use for all their tank born products.

Apparently my product line retains the most original genetic information from him.

To be honest its really strange now knowing the man who donated most of his DNA to my creation.

>>32094500
okay I was alarmed.. I thought we might have had a skin walker here, only a skin walker would take a women and bring them to the internet.

>>32092232
More?

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>>32092683

"Boss doesn't want to say, so don't force him to, ya fuckin' gibbon." Wallace says, shooting a glare at Brent.

"Alright, alright, sorry for pushin', I didn't mean to upset you guys." Brent says, turning back to his original position, facing away from his crew.

Nobody really blamed Brent, he was only nineteen, no need to be angry at him for being a curious kid. But this is not to say that nobody had a certain disdain for his curiousness, they just weren't angry at Brent himself.

Half an hour after arriving at the small town, the distant scream of jet engines soars over the valleys and over Chi Qahn. The Americans in the town look up and towards the mountain ranges, quickly making their way to the drop-off to see where the action is.

It doesn't take long for two silver dots to come screaming down out of the sky and level out about five-hundred feet over the ground for a couple of seconds before the jet being chased pulls up and begins rolling, attempting to engage in a rolling scissors.

"Holy shit, is that a Russian being chased?" Josey asks, taking off his helmet in disbelief.at what he was seeing.

cont.

>>32094554
i really think JT is a girl though. She wrote a lot i the early threads

>>32093874
I don't want to reveal anything more than the fact that I have something yet to reveal.

>>32094378
Doing good so far. Keep up the good work!

>>32090308

I'm really starting to like Judith more and more.
Revelation 6:8?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6xFttJAKajA

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>>32094395
>>32094474
>>32094500
>>32094658

falwritefag is a girl too. go figure.

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>>32094646
The two planes writhed and turned, somehow keeping within the mountain range that the soldiers were over-looking and presenting them a spectacular show.

Suddenly, the Mig, the plane that was being chased this entire time, straightens out in the direction of the village, canopy suddenly popping off as the pilot jettisons it, intending to bail out. In addition, the Mig pitches up to gain altitude and bleed off airspeed for a safer bail.

However, two seconds into the climb and the F-86-F2 Sabre's twenty-millimeters light up the Mig. The Russian's jet catches fire and begins to flat-spin right as is comes over the town where the soldiers are.

"Holy shit- holy fuck!" Brent exclaims as the flaming wreckage continues to spin and spin closer towards him and his allies.

The jet comes down hard in one of the streets, barely avoiding colliding with the buildings on either side of the road and puffing out a large fireball as it comes in contact with the ground. The fireball spewed flaming fuel that temporarily set the bottom of the clay awnings of the buildings on fire before dying and containing the blaze to the wreckage.

The G.I.s rush to see what their pilot has reaped and watch from thirty feet away as the aircraft burns itself out, the fire completely dying just twenty minutes later.

Within the wreckage, the soldiers found a completely melted cockpit, an intact empennage, and no pilot.

"That's strange," Tony begins, putting a hand to his chin,

"There wasn't a chute." The commander finishes his thought, turning around and scanning the sky but finding nothing.

An hour later and the sun was starting to fall behind one of the mountains right as the last piece of debris was picked up from the crashed Mig-17. By now, a small perimeter was formed around the town itself but needed to be extended beyond its border the next day.

cont.

>>32094864
FalFag best girl 2016 all others can go

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So /wfg/, I have the first part of my foray into writefag territory with the Ruger Vampire weapon concept. I know I've been hinting at doing it for the past few threads and haven't had anything to show for it, sorry about that.
That being said, are people still interested in reading what I've got? I can post the first part and if people like it enough, I can get started on the next bits.

If people are interested, I can post before I go to sleep tonight so that it's out of sight, out of mind until I wake up and see the damage.

>the M1A has been through 400 rounds so far and nothing else has happened - so far.
>it's your last day, you sell the beater you've been driving for these weeks to a car dealer and hide your M1A, 9meme pistol and everything else mil related in a solid guitar case.
>yfw when you went mafia.
>TSA approved locks, retarded as they are. Poland requires you to lock your gun case.
>you've always wondered how many TSA-keys have been conveniently lost and how much stuff suddenly disappeared from ostensibly locked luggage.
>the check in is easy, nobody really gives a crap about the funs. no ammo, no danger.
>as the plane leaves the ground, you smile.
>You're outside of ATF jurisdiction now. No one here shoots doggo because of a soccer mom.
>are there soccer moms in Europe?
>or are people there less retarded and more scared, I.e. cowering in silence at the babby killer chillum assault sniper mortar machine gun you packed in your luggage?
>Well, you will see once you arrive.
>13 hours later you have arrived at the airport in Poland, after another hour you stand in the arrival Hall, guitarcase in one hand, duffel in the other and a Ruck on your back.
>people give you a few weird looks because you carry so much stuff but like a true autistic /k/ommando you ignore the luggage carts.
>Instead, you trade some of your considerable cash supply into yuropoor moneys.
>the plan calls for buying another beater that will get you to the turkish-kurd-syrian border.
>So, off you go.
>a taxi driver takes you to a used car dealer, sadly the cars there are a lot more expensive than you thought.
>apparently there are no gubmint surplus car lots in yuropoor.
>you spend a few hundreds on a decent hatchback. not perfect, but good enough.
>You ask about registering the car.
>fuckingtaxesmang.doc
>the dealer laughs and hands you a numberplate.
>basedpoland.mpeg
>everything thrown in to the back of the car and you are ready to go.

>>32095905
>There is little room in the car, which makes you look even more like a musician.
>The car has the correct kind of patina; dust, age and nicotine combined.
>you roll off the lot, to find out how far this ruddy piece of crap will take you.
>The sounds it makes are definitely... interesting.
>The steering is heavy and the muffler has had better days as well.
>rusteverywhere.jpeg
>You remember a meme about CMP M1911s
>does it rattle? then it is ready for battle.
>you car rattles so much it must've been made by Khorne himself.
>you write 'blood for the blood god' above the AC with a red sharpie.
>even humie stuff goez fasta wid red.
>just 1740 miles to go.
>sleeping will be a PITA though.

>the bordercrossings are surprisingly easy.
>nobody expects anyone to be stupid enough to go mafia.
>they search you for drugs, musician that you are.
>yfw concealing firearms in a guitar case actually works.
>their dogs do not give a rat's ass about your funs and look longingly at your glove compartment.
>cheeseandhamsandwich.jpg
>the more band stickers you add to the car, the less concerned customs becomes.
>weird enough. maybe because it starts to fit in to the image.

More to follow, somehow I lost a huge part of what I already wrote. Damn save button not working...

>>32095203
Thoughts so far anons?
Anything I need to adjust in the next post?

>>32095982
No real critic or anything, but I'm enjoying the tank crew

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>>32094841
Bingo. Judith may have never fired a shot in anger, but inside, she's capable of an infinite blackness. Capable, but she doesn't want, nor like to be.

>>32095752
I'm interested to see what you've got. I don't care for Rugers, but I do like vampires. I'm intrigued.

>>32096136
Alright, I'll post it in a few hours before I head off to sleep.
Only reason it's Ruger is because of the fact that a lot of Ruger guns seems to 'bite' their owners. If there was another biter gun, I'd consider adding them in.

>>32094356
>>32093017

Damn it guard. Reminds me of that short story of the rifle watching her owner grow old; it hurts.

Keep going, though.

(shame the pastebin for that other story is gone; now no one will know)

Saw some concern earlier about bins. I am with my family and my woman. Will update bins tonight/tomorrow when I can. Would've done it yesterday but finally got home at 1 in the morning.

>>32094658
>>32094864
>>32095362
We have women here. They are terrifying. Also that's not how you spell fluffy best girl

>>32096727
They are not women, you are lying, and Fluff has a dick the size of a 88mm

>>32094631
Will proceed later in this thread, that is if it still under bump limit.

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>>32093121
>>32093127
>>32093138
2cute4me

>anon brings mata one day, keeping her in a rifle case
>brings, unknown to her, to anon's friend who owns a small cessna he uses for private skydiving and parachuting lessons
>wakes her up in giest form right as he's about to jump
>her face when anon grips her and jumps, her arms and legs waving about

>yelling over the wind "BUT I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU MISSED THIS?" with the biggest shiteating grin anon can must as you plummet towards the earth

Make it happen

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>Your Kar98 screams at you, tears in her eyes
>"What was i to do!? I had a duty to obey! I was a rifle!"
>You cant meet her eyes, and she throws a pillow at you, her hand pulling at the robe stuck under her foot as she tries to cover up the lingerie she had worn for you
>"Am i monster to you now!? Am I not your little rose anymore because I had to follow orders?! AM I!?"
>You look at the floor, your shoulders sagging
>"You said I was yours Anon, you called me your sweetie, you h-held my hand, you took me into your bed multiple times!" She says, furiously shaking from head to toe
>"I did what i had to do, we all did, the order was given. But that doesn't matter anymore! You're MY shooter anon, and I am your rifle!" She screams, tears streaming down her eyes
>But her ragged face becomes shocked, and her breath escapes out of her lungs in one heart breaking gust, as you say two little words, and fear grips her heart like an icy vise
>"For now" You say, and turn your back on her
>She falls to her knees, her breath seeming to be frozen in her chest
>Her gasps come out short, and panicked
>Her back shuddering as she tries to breath
>But still you walk away as she stares wide eyed at your back, moving past the door
>The betrayel... is like an icey sting to her
>The heart break too much
>The sorrow too real
>First she loses her first shooter to war
>And almost 100 years later
>She shall lose her second shooter... to the same battle

>>32095752
nigga just post it; it'll be fine.

>>32095905
>>32095927

Good so far.
> I lost a huge part of what I already wrote

Google docs is free; I do all of my pre-writing in there because spellcheck and autosaving

>>32096961
following order you say..

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>>32096961
Could you fucking not?

>>32096961
What the fuck Guard, that is not okay.

My truck has probably killed 100,000 malaysian rice farmers with all the global warming rising sea levels it's caused, but I don't yell at it and threaten to sell it.

Jesus.

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>>32097109
>>32097090
>>32097080
shall I continue? shall I bring the feels hard when she begs for him to take her back before a shop owner lays a hand on her neck and tucks her into the case? Shall I?

>>32097123
You. Motherfucking. Piece. Of. Shit.

You better not fuck up the good vibes of the story that kicked off this whole autistic shebang.

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>>32097164
>"Anon! Dont do this! We can work past this, we can work through this! Anon!?!" She screamed, as the older man softly grabbed her hand to walk her behind the counter
>But you do not look back, and place one foot in front of the other, cash rasping softly in your clenched hand
>"Anon! Anon!! Annooonnnn!!!!" The Kar98 screamed, tears streaming down her face and her face a mask of anguish and pain
>The old man, sadness in his own eyes, his brows furrowed with the regret of his only choice, reached up
>"Anon no..." She cries softly, closing her eyes and squeezing the tears from her eyes
>Her last image is a blurry view of your back as you opened the door and left, the soft tinkle of the hanging door bell the last chorus of shame she would hear for quite some time
>And with that, the old mans hand came down softly onto her neck, and with a soft squeeze she snapped into the form of a rifle, held aloft in his hand
>The old man, a frown fixed under his grey speckled mustache, slowly moved behind the counter
>With the gentleness usually reserved for the handling of the highest priced crockery, he places the rifle into a slot on the rifle rack
>He hands feel the tears on her stock, and he sighs deeply, patting the underside of her magazine softly
>" I am sorry, my dear... may your stay be brief, and your next owner be understanding..."
>With that, the old man sat down on the old stool behind the counter, the frame creaking slightly as he did
>He did not even have a moment to open the news paper before he heard a noise
>The chorus of a metal bell on a glass door.

"Oh I guess that makes sense." I replied.

It made no god damn sense but who am I to judge the fundamental workings of this universe I live in..

we spent the remaining minuets in the truck listing to Ray softly cooing as stubs pet her head..

"stubs you have been petting her head for 20 minuets straight." I pointed out.

"its so soft, and it feels good." Stubs quickly responded.

"well I guess she is soft I really should ask her what she uses for her hair considering mine has the same texture as a brillo pad." I said in return.

As we pulled up the drive way I saw a massive addition to my house.
Once again the structure was constructed out of concrete prefab and stood 3 stories tall and had the same fake wood paneling trying to look like it was part of my small ceader shake cabin.

"dear god stubs how did you, no where did you." I stumbled with my sentences trying to figure what exclamation should come first as I looked at the huge building that now occupied a large part of my yard.

stubs looked at me and said
"Time, money and waffengiest, lots and lots of waffengiest."

I looked at her and said "Is it up to code the last thing I need is my house getting condemned."

she smilled and replied
" Its built to code and above actually, it can withstand 20PSI over pressure without cracking a window.."

I looked at her and said
"umm how thick are those fucking windows."

She looked at me with a smile and said
"Oh around 3 feet. They are like the windows at nasa launch sites."

I probably should have been more concerned about why she was building a huge bunker on my property rather then the cost .

"how much did this all cost stubs, this is huge."I exclaimed.

As we pulled into a brand new parking garage, Bellalika undid my seat belt.
I looked at Bellalika and said "thanks my arms are a little useless right now."
She had her predatory grin on and said, "oh don't worry I will make sure you learn to use them."
I inched ever so closer to the safety of Stubs and Ray.

>>32097244
Guard pls, let it be a good owner.

Also, this is a fresh story isn't it? Only story I can remember with a Kar98 was the harem story.

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>>32097244
Guard, I've been lurking these threads since the beginning, if this doesn't end in good feels I fucking swear

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>>32097319
First waffegeist story was by Guard about a Kar98

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>>32097329
>>32097320
>>32097319
But anon, what if its just another kar98?

>>32097343
What if all of your stories end up being about k98s. What if you change your name from guard to k98 fag. What if you leave society behind and live in a shed with nothing but k98s.

K98 is love
K98 is life.
Do it k98 fag.

>>32097329
Shit, I completely forgot about Elke.

>>32097343
Dear god, I don't need these feels. He's coming back in the store because "IT'S JUST A PRANK BRO!" right?

>>32097282
Stubs gently woke ray up as she opened the door.

I quickly followed them out so I could avoid the predatory Russian on the other side of my truck.

My new metal arms hung limp by my side.

I looked around the parking garage this level was marked level 1 of 3, the other two sitting well bellow ground level.
the industrial concrete pilings hinted at the permeant nature of this structure.

As I turned around to confront stubs I noticed a newly restored v200. The turret turned and looked at me..

"umm hi." I said as I tried raising my arm to wave.
All I managed to do was spastically shake my arm everywhere.

Stubs looked at me and said, oh this is Anna, she is one of the new guests here.

AS soon as stubs said that a young women appeared at the hatch waving her arm.

Dear god my life was getting crowded by machines..

>>32096902
I might just do that.

>>32096961
Don't stop. Give closure.

Just bought the last piece for my Viktoria to get her looking nice and pretty. Feels great.

Anyway, what do you guys think of the story so far? I'm always open to suggestions and ideas.

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>>32097244
>>32096961
>Night came quickly for the Kar98 as she sat on the rack, still in the night with the other rifles
>The moon cast a dreary shadow in through the window's blinds, dust floating aimlessly through the air in it's beams
>The rifle... was in agony, its soul writhing in wretchedness as the others slept
>She watched the door for hours, hoping to see him come back in
>To see he had seen the error of his ways and come back to take her home
>To throw the old mans money at him and demand her back
>But he never came... and he would never come the following weeks
>She finally slept, and slept long through the days that came and went unnoticed by her
>It wasnt until she was born aloft by the old man that she snapped awake, shaking the fog of a forgotten mind from it's slumber as she took in her surroundings
>she was being handed to a very portly, hair man in a pair of overalls and no shirt, with a kind of raggedy looking hat with "Iraq Veteran" printed across the front in a dirty kind of scroll lettering
>"Aye this'll do, just need a deer rifle for this season." The hairy man said, patting her buttstock.
>"Ah... yes, she will do the job fine." The old man said, averting his eyes from you. He knew about her, all it took was a little bit of researching to know about her past
>The overall clad man paid the older man and began to walk out of the store with her some time later, and panic gripped her tight like a crushing weight
>She knew well enough what happened to military bolt actions that were bought by hunters, and she wanted nothing of the sort brought down upon her
>But as look would have it, fate was on her side and the Mother of Rifles must have had her on her mind more than others, as the Redneck had no clue how to sporterize a rifle, and wanted it done 'Pruh-fesh-un-ally'
>What that meant for her, was being taken to the local Gun Show barely an hour after she had been bought
>The Kar98 was dragged in a whirl of noise, and fear gripped her tight

>>32097759
NONONO

>>32097725
I'm liking the story a lot so far.
I'm getting a "My cat is a sarcastic asshole" vibe from the rifle.

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>>32097759
>"Aye this'll do, just need a deer rifle for this season."
Guro incoming.

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>>32095203
Josey smirks as he flips through the Korean magazine he bought at the local shop in the village. Sure, it may be in black and white and not even in English, but the cartoons in it were entertainingly drawn and presented a story that anyone can follow visually.

The Patton sat in the middle of a line of soldiers as two were off ahead of the rest, scouting enemy positions or any suspicious movement.

"Put down that gook-literacy, Josey, it's got Communist subliminal messages, just like chink music." Tony says, lowering his binoculars from his face as he gazes towards the tree-line where the soldiers went to.

"Let me enjoy myself. I have to load the god-damn shells, organize them, and carry the knowledge that the shells I load kill people. Let me read in peace. Besides, I have a democracy-fueled state of mind, if Communism even thinks about injecting itself into my head, I drop a hell-ton of bombs on it." Josey says, giving Tony little more than a mix of an aggravated and smug look.

"Hell-ton... That's a new one." Tony mires at the phrase, chuckling as he repeats it in his head. over and over again.

Two figures re-appear out of the thick foliage of the tree line and make their way back to the line and signalling Tony to watch the two G.I.s' six.

The two infantrymen walk sternly towards the line, slowing their pace to a stop a couple of feet in front of the line.

"We found the pilot."

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>>32097759
Oh no...

>>32094665
Well, you can't reveal that Satan powers your writing with those digits.

Is it your benis. Is this the great reveal?

>>32097885
Pilot is boned. Capture or raining freedom on his ass?

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>>32097759
>The kar98 frantically swiveled her attention left and right, trying to track so many people at once leaving her in such a fright than she felt she would shake her wooden stock apart
>First she was betrayed, now this? And soon to be... cut apart like she was nothing?
>She was caught off guard by the clatter of a tazer, her attention swinging behind her before being set down onto a table roughly and with little regard
>"Awright, so what I need is..." Began the fat hairy man, and she was again brought into the air by another total stranger, touching her
>And opening her bolt
>Staring down her bore
>Jabbing his fingers into her magazine
>All while the fat man spoke about how he wanted her tapped for a scope
>Tapped!
>The vision of being drilled and sawn into another shape caused such a panic and dread that she literally thought her bolt was going to shatter just on its own, not even a hammer or anvil needed
>As they both spoke about pricing and where to cut her down, she spied a man looking at her curiously, while a short haired woman in a crisp German uniform hung onto his arm, both of them staring at you
>The younger man heard the older redneck say "Saw her down to a slimmer profile" and both the woman and the younger man's heads swiveled from the Kar98, to the redneck, and to the man holding the Kar98 up
>She had no mouth... but she desperately screamed for help from within, beseeching both the man and the woman dressed up to help her
>She heard the woman say "Anon did you hear that? Theyre going to cut her up! Do something!", tugging at the mans arm and pointing at the kar98 rifle, now tucked back under the Rednecks sweaty arm pit
>"Elke I told you I dont have the money for another rifle, we just got your brand new sto-" He began, but with a hard shove, the woman named Elke pushed the younger man towards the redneck, and he stammered out a hello
>The redneck turned to the young man and said hello back, and the began to engage in conversation

>>32097939
>>"Elke I told you I dont have the money for another rifle, we just got your brand new sto-" He began, but with a hard shove, the woman named Elke pushed the younger man towards the redneck, and he stammered out a hello
OH THANK CHRIST

>>32097919
>no chute
>pilot not in craft
>still alive

Hahahaha anon, I love your jokes! :^)

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>>32097939
>"S-So I see you have a german rifle! Fine... rifles those..." He began, looking over his shoulder at Elke with confused look
>"Oh yeah I plan on using it to bag me a deer this year, just gotta trim down the stock so its more comfortable and tap it for a scope mount" He said proudly, tapping the top of the receiver with his dirty finger nail
>"Aahaha... yes, well that is a way to do it..." The younger man said, sweat beginning to slightly dampen his forhead
>" You see sir, I am... I am..." He stalled, a bead of sweat beginning to roll down the side of his temple
>Elke broke forward and grabbed the man's hand, giving the redneck the sweetest smile she could
>"Shatzie dont be so modest!" She giggled, her light German accent causing the Kar98 under the rednecks arm to mentally freeze
>It sounded.... familiar
>"Mein husband is such a humble man! He ist a German Weapons Collector!" She said again, leaning up and giving his cheek a kiss.
>The young man's face lit up and he held up a finger
>"A-Ah yes! I collect all fine German world war weaponry, and I noticed what a fine rifle... you uh.. have there." He coughed into his fist and did his best to seem distinguished
>"I would like to see if you would give me a price on the rifle. I would like to add it to my collection." He said quirkly, his voice cracking slightly on the word collection, and the woman Elke hooding her eyes and looking up at the younger man bemusedly
>"Collection indeed..." Elke murmured, and the Kar98 saw her give the man's rump a little pinch
>[What the devil....] The Kar98 thought, as sweat from the redneck dripped down her stock
>"Why would I sell mah rifle for? I only just got the damn thing" The redneck said, a sudden frown erupting from it's doughy face
>"Well sir a rifle designed for hunting would be a much better choice than this... rifle. I mean the price of 7,92x57 is very high compared to other hunting calibers." The young man said

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>>32098071
>"Oh thatsa bunch of bullshit, 7,62 costs like 5 bucks a box from Tula." The redneck said, grinning at the man behind the table, who just held his gaze else where
>Elke's eye twitched at the mention of 7,62 while the younger man's straight finger curled slightly in confusion
>"...Quite, but 7....62 is not a very good hunting round, please, let me buy the rifle back at whatever cost you did so you can find a better rifle." The younger man's demeanor changed as he realized what kind of dire straights the rifle was wading in
>The redneck grunted
>"Six hundred dollars and you got yourself a deal." He said, a glint in his eye
>[He only bought me for 400 dollars!] The kar98 screamed mentally, wishing to sock the redneck in his fat jew gut
>"S-Six hundred dollars?!" The young man cried, but received a hip bump from the woman Elke, who never failed to let the sweet smile leave her face
>"Well yeah! I gotta get a good rifle, dont I? Plus Im even selling it for less than i bought it fer!" The redneck said, turning as if he was making a move to walk away
>"Okay!" The man said, and sighed, looking at the redneck despairingly. "Okay... Six hundred..."
>The woman Elke slyly moved around both the young man and the redneck and slipped the Kar98 from the redneck, who was too busy eyeing the other man's wallet as he counted out the bills
>Relief swept through the rifle as she was held and cradled by the woman Elke, but a shock ran through her body as she felt the presence
>The Kar98 reached out with her mind and touched slightly out to the other woman, and she felt the same fire that she had within, only a little less bright than Elke's
>She felt the Mother of Rifles blessing
>She felt the presence... of another waffegeist
>[Hus...band?] The kar98 asked her self, looking up at the short haired girl who was idly rubbing away at the rank sweat on her with the sleeve of her uniform
>"Five fifty, Six... Hundred." The young man said, wrinkling the corner of his mouth

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>>32098171
"Hoowee!" The redneck cried out, causing both the young man, Elke, and the man behind the booth to jump
>Without even a backwards glance at the kar98, he sprang off into the crowed to find a way to spend his new found fortune while the younger man sighed and leaned his head back
"Okaaaaaay." He blurted, holding his wallet as if it were a wounded comrade
>"Lets just find the stripper clips, and then we shall go home, I GUESS." He moaned, giving Elke the stink eye
>Elke just smiled brightly and leaned up, kissing him on the cheek and whispering something into his ear
>The young man softened slightly, but still sighed as he tucked his wallet back into his pants
>Elke held the Kar98 the entire time as they walked, idly poking at her and rubbing small marks away with her sleeve cuff
>They talked like the Kar98 used to talk to her own previous owner, and the memories pricked at her painfully
>Elke seemed to notice, and patted the rifle gently
>The young man found the clips and haggled for awhile before coming away with a meager handful of them, which pleased Elke to no end
>Elke prattled on about how important they were during combat while the young man, Anon, told her the plan was to get twice the amount of these
>Anon looked down at the Kar98 ruefully, but Elke hugged the rifle tighter and stuck her tongue out at him
>This caused Anon to laugh, and he rustled her short hair roughly before shoving her playfully on the shoulder
>[This is how a couple acts?] The kar98 pondered, before being carefully placed in the back seat of a vehicle
>Elke cheekily buckled up the rifle and patted her on the buttstock before hopping into the passenger seat
>Anon slumped into the driver seat and sighing dramatically, turned the key to the ignition
>Some time passed as they pulled out of the parking lot, clogged with cars while the shadow of a huge man loomed over them
>But soon they were on their way home, which seemed to be some hours away
>The ride did not stay quiet

>>32098293
>Hoowee
>tfw most true part

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>>32098944

>>32097890
Lmfao! I believe both of us have gotten satan trips in these threads at least once before.
>benis
Honestly, I didn't think about the need to reveal that. So, I don't think that's it.
If I did reveal benis... FAL would probably rap my knuckles with a metric ruler.

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Alright, as promised, here's what I have for the whole Vampire Rifle idea. The idea of this part is to just be exposition, not the entire thing. If people like it more will come.
Posting name to come later

>It was the Saturday after election day, Trump won and the liberal tears were tasty
>You decided to celebrate with some friends at the range
>They brought all of their guns, and you brought all of yours
>Granted, 'all' consisted of 'one' at the time, but that didn't matter to you
>You brought your M1891/30, which you were proud of being able to buy it after paying tuition, rent for a few months, and a computer the summer previous
>No big accomplishment to anyone else, but you were proud to have not fucked up the math
>At the range, most of the guns of your friends had a Waffegeist, but yours either didn't or didn't care to show herself
>It didn't matter to you either way, if she didn't want to talk, then that's up to her
>If she did, you had a copy of American English Rosetta Stone in Russian in case she didn't speak English.
>The range was fun, however, you noticed that of your friends that you remembered were single had developed relationships with at least one of their Waffengeist, sometimes 2 or more
>You couldn't say you didn't envy them, but no one said that you and your rifle would be a good match.
>In fact, there were a few Waffengeist that looked like they disliked or hated their owners
>Especially the AR-15 that kept arguing with her owner when he wouldn't take her advice while zeroing her in
>You figured they would hate fuck later and ignored them.

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>>32099090
>Most of the day later, ammo had run dry except the 10 rounds in clips that you saved, telling yourself that you needed them to use for some good old 7.62x54r 'home defense'
>After getting home, you cleaned your rifle and put her away, making sure to treat her with care regardless of gun spirit or not
>And you go outside and check your mail
>Electric bill, water bill, internet bill
>Fucking hate bills, but living off campus allowed you to own guns and keep them with you, so you digressed
>Wait what's this?
>It's your concealed carry permit
>Not like you were going to conceal carry anytime soon, but you'd decided to get that whole process done before the election happened in case the she-devil won
>In retrospect, it might have been a bit foolish, but you felt more secure doing it this way.
>You put the card in your wallet by the time you go inside again and lock your door
>There's one last piece of mail, a letter from an old family friend who owns a gun store
>Confused as to why you're getting this, you open it read it
"Anon, bet you're glad we're free again, same here. I hope classes are going well and you're enjoying your rifle (don't worry, I haven't told your family, it's your business, not theirs). Has she shown herself to you yet? If not, then maybe you should try to coax her out using some old Patriotic music or learning Russian yourself. Speaking of rifles, it just so happens that I've got another one that you might be interested in. I've got a wife and kids, so it's not like I need another woman in my life. I'll let you know more when you're here. If you can make it back to town this weekend, I can let you check her out and take her with you. Let me know if you can show up, just call my cell. -Fredrick Jones"
"P.S. I'll throw in some ammo, but I suggest you save up for some more, all I'm gonna say is 6.5 Creedmoor"
>A free rifle
>6.5 Creedmoor

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>>32099109
>You could think of cheaper calibers, but there was something about the strangeness of the round that drew you in
>And considering that the rifle was free, after doing some quick calculations, you realized that you could get a decently priced pistol to go with that fancy new CCP you just got
>And with that, you made plans to go home next weekend
>Not like the drive was anything horrendous, and you did get out of classes early on Friday, so you could make it home in time for some good home cooked food
>A pleasant change from the cheap stuff you'd make for yourself
>The next week went by quickly, and by Friday night you were home
>Food with family Friday night was excellent as always, friends from home were still the same band of sarcastic assholes on Saturday
>Sunday rolled around and you stopped at the gun store owned by your family friend
>Normally the store is closed on Sundays, but when he saw you come up to the door, he let you in immediately with a handshake
"Good to see you Anon, glad you could make it!"
>"Same, how's life been?"
"Pretty good, what about you?"
>"Same old, same old. Tough classes, no girlfriend to speak of, Katya still hasn't shown herself, and my job is boring, but freedom won, I've got a year left, and I was able to take the time out of my slow life to get back here, so pretty good all things considered."
"Katya?"
>"My Nagant, I figured I'd name her in case she decided she wanted to talk to me."
"Oh, alright. I'm impressed, you didn't immediately ask about the rifle like a kid on Christmas, almost makes me think you don't want it."
>"No, just figured that I shouldn't be rude when you're just giving me a rifle for free."
"Wow, you have changed since you've gone off to college. Got a girlfriend yet with that newfound manners?"
>"I just said that I don't have one to speak of, but either way, you know what I plan to do."

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>>32099124
"Yeah, yeah, wait until you're out and then find someone where you end up. I can see that logic, but you need to live a little. You can't just keep yourself inside with your guns and your computer except for classes, range, and work. You'll probably do the same once you're out, so go meet a girl while you can, alright?"
>"I'll try, but no guarantees."
"Good, now come on in, the wife's made lunch once I told her you'd be coming, she still cooks the same way she always has, so you're not leaving hungry."
>With that, we went inside
>Frederick's store was actually connected to his house, where he, his wife, and two kids lived
>Fred's wife Mallory is the Waffegeist of a Lee Enfield No.4 Mk II that he saved from a police buyback scrapheap, and his kids were a Glock G23 and a Beretta Px4 Storm Compact. They weren't his actual kids, but they loved him and Mallory as if they were.
>Lunch was great, Mallory made some fish and chips that beat out any pub or restaurant
>Fred went to entertain the kids to give Mallory some time to clean up lunch
>You ended up helping Mallory with the dishes out of boredom, but you wouldn't tell her that
"Thank you for helping, you know you don't need to, Anon."
>"Least I can do. I rarely get to speak to you alone anyways, you're always either with the kids or Fred is in the room as well."
"Still, you don't have to. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I overheard you telling Frederick that you don't have a girlfriend is that right?"
>You sigh, knowing where this was going
>"Mrs. Jones, I'll be fine, I have been for the last few years since the last girlfriend, I'll be fine until I get out of college and settle down."
"Dear, you've known me long enough to be able to call me Mallory, and I'd prefer that you do, lest I start feeling like an old woman."
>"Sorry Mallory."

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>>32099124
"It's fine, but while you might not want to, I remember how you were after that last girl broke up with you; you were so down that you didn't even blink when you got into that good college that you're at. You've gotten better, but you're still nowhere near what you used to be before you went off. You need a girl, and I can help you out if you let me."
>Okay, now you're a bit worried about where this is going
>"Mallory, what are you trying to do to me?"
"Why do you think I'm going to do something bad to you? Either way, since the last time you've been around here a few months ago, I've started up a website service called 'Matching Serials'. It's a site that I run that helps men and women in the nearby areas that are looking for a lifetime partner in the form of a Waffegeist, find the right one for them. I get to know all the girls in the shop personally, and any of them who want to find a nice owner put up profiles that I match with our owner profiles."
>You blink, Mallory has gotten very active since you've left for college, must be the idea of having 'kids' of her own
>"Mallory, I can't do that. What Waffegeist is going to want to put up with me? Even my Mosin doesn't change or talk to me"
"Oh, that one? I haven't gotten her to talk to me either, she's better off left to her own devices and will come out if she wants to. What I'm talking about is for us to find you some nice, young semi-automatic rifle to settle down with, like an AR variant or a SCAR, not some war hardened lady like me."
>"If the gaudy as all hell excuse for a rifle at the range the other day was indicative of all SCARs, I'd gladly end up with an AR any day of the week."
>You and Mallory had finished the dishes by now

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>>32099150
"Ah, yes, you're not wrong, they're a little full of themselves. But you see? You're getting the idea of it, now if you can wait for a little bit, I can go check the profiles of some of the girls and find one you might like to take with you back to your apartment, I swear I won't take long!"
>Mallory sped out of the kitchen, almost knocking over Frederick on the way out
"What's her hurry?"
>"She's trying to set me up with a Waffegeist, despite my reservations about the matter."
"Don't worry, it's a thing she's done recently. While it has worked in most cases, she's a bit overzealous of finding the girls new homes. Well, that, and she does worry about you after that one relationship ended, even though it was three years ago, time seems to pass differently for Waffegeists. Come on, let's go to the shop."
>You were taken out to the back of the store by Fred
>He grabs a box from the shelves and lays it on the counter
"So you know that raffle the NRA did a while ago back before the election, right?"
>"Hadn't heard of it, no."
"Well it was a bunch of guns that were being raffled off with the idea that they were guns that the witch wanted to ban. What it really was, was a quick cash grab for the last few weeks by the NRA; only half of the guns would be covered under any sort of ban. And even then, we'd probably be safe here in the Midwest. We aren't Commiefornia. Anyways, I ended up wining one of those guns, and I can't say that I liked it much, but given what I've seen you shoot, I think you'd like this one."
>He opened the box and pulled out a brand new Ruger Precision Rifle
>He hands it to you and you begin poring over the rifle, examining every bit of it, running your hands over the surface, until you somehow manage to cut yourself

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>>32099160
>You quickly remove your hand and hold the wound shut, it turned out to be a fairly large gash on your palm, running perpendicular to the natural fold lines
"Oh shit, let me get you something for that," Frederick says and disappears back to the house to get a bandage.
>You continue to look over the rifle, more carefully this time, and see a bit of blood right below the ejection port
>You reach to clean it up, but before you make contact, the blood disappears, as if sucked into the rifle
>You blink and shake your head, perhaps it wouldn't be a good idea to drive given that Mallory's cooking is apparently making you hallucinate
>Frederick comes back with a bandage and wraps your hand in it
"Sorry about that, that happened to me when I first looked at it too, although my cut wasn't as bad as this. You see that bolt-head on the other side that's sanded down, it's because I cut myself on it because it was sharp."
>You looked and saw the sanded down bolt. It was still operable, but just curved on the edges unlike the one next to it
"Here's some 6.5 for it, hope you get to use it sometime soon. Don't forget that classes come first though."
>"Of course Fred, thanks for everything"
"No problem, is there anything else you need?"
>"Not right now, but in a few weeks, I aim to purchase a pistol to go with my shiny new concealed carry permit."
"Glad you finally got around to getting that, I know you can't carry on campus, but having something for your apartment other than that Mosin or this RPR would be good. Anything in mind?"
>"Keeping with the Ruger trend, I'm looking at the new American compact or the SR9c. I like them both pretty well."
"Sure about the American? I've heard people complain that the back part of it bites into your thumb knuckle pretty bad."

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>>32099172
>"Yeah, I fired one this past weekend and loved the way it felt, no biting the way I held it"
"Alright, I've got the sr9c here today, and I can order an American and give whichever one to you half off, I'll call when it's in."
>"Thanks again Fred, for everything."
"Not a problem! Oh, and Anon?"
>"Yeah Fred?"
"Please consider letting Mallory run you through the dating site she has."
>goddamnit.jpg
>"Really Fred, you too?"
"I know you well enough Anon, and she knows every gun in this store, and makes a point of knowing all the ones that come in. If you feel like you're not getting anywhere with girls at college, just let us know, and we can set up a few options for a date for you."
>"Fred, come on"
"I'm serious. We'd both rather have you happy with a Waffegeist than alone with a herd of cats or worse, with a liberal girl. Just think about it."
>"I will Fred. By the way, what did Mallory say about this rifle I'm taking with me?"
>Fred paused for a second and scratched his head
"She never talked to this one, couldn't even get a response. I think you might just have a plain, spirit-free rifle there. Which is why I stress the dating site."
>"Alright, she'll be right at home with my unresponsive Mosin then. I'll see you when the RAP comes in, bye Fred."
>He waves bye as you put the rifle box across the back seats of your car, get in, and drive away
>It's a little disappointing that this rifle probably doesn't have a spirit as well, but it's probably for the better. Your experience with dating anyone hasn't been the best
>With rifle in hand, you head back to your apartment, elated at a new rifle, but dejected at the missed opportunity

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>>32099190
***
>"Did he leave already?!" Mallory asked as she ran into the store with papers in hand
"Yeah, he'll be back in a few weeks though when I get his pistol ordered"
>"Damn!"
"What?"
>"I had finally found a profile of a girl I think he would get along with, it's the Steyr AUG A3 we got in a while ago."
"Yeah, I think that would be a good match for him. But you know how he doesn't want to do that yet."
>"I don't see why not. You and I have proven that a rifle is fine, too."
"He doesn’t think that way though."
>Mallory sighs and slaps the papers down on the counter
>"So why was he here today? While it was nice to see him, I know he didn't come by just to have lunch with us." Mallory asked.
"I wanted to give him that Ruger Precision Rifle I won in the raffle, why?"
>Mallory's face went pale and she started shaking her head
>"Nonononono, that's not good, he can't have her!"
"What? Why not?"
>"She finally came out and talked to me last night. I've talked to many different types of guns, even ones like me with military backgrounds."
"And?"
>"And I can say that she's bad news. Never have I talked to a fellow Waffegeist and have felt scared after the interaction."
"You can't be serious."
>"I am, there was something about her that just felt off, and genuinely scared me, I didn't carry the conversation on for long, but when she heard she was getting a new owner, she got quiet again, but had a very devious looking smile before she went back into the box."
"Dear, he'll be fine. She might not even show herself like his Nagant and all of your worrying will be for nothing."
>"If you say so, but I feel something bad is going to happen with her."
"Alright, I'll check up on him every once and a while."
>"Thank you dear."
>She wraps her arms around him
>"Want to see if I can still run smoothly after all these years?"
"You mean like we did yesterday?"
>She kisses him on the lips for a few seconds
>"The kids are in the safe, they won't hear a thing."
"Why not?"
***

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>>32099205
>When you got back from Fred and Mallory's, you set about the whole cleaning process for your new gun.
>You never really had any visitors to your apartment, so furniture wasn't a large concern of yours
>Ergo, due to the lack of table, you did your gun cleaning on the floor of your spare room on a unfolded cardboard box
>You figured that this would be a simple procedure, until you watched the youtube video on disassembly and found that you needed a set of allen wrenches
>Store is close by, might as well go get some
>You leave your rifle on the floor in the spare room, leaning it up in the corner
>Window blinds are closed, lights are off, shouldn't be an issue, especially since this is the nicer part of town
>Trip to the store takes no time at all, with the wrench set in hand, you head back home
>On the way home, you start to think of how to figure out of your RPR actually has a 'geist or not
>Fred said that it didn't come out and talk to Mallory, but that could just be new rifle being shy or something similar
>You doubt talking to it would fix anything, maybe leaving it unassembled?
>You've heard stories of how that almost forcefully brought out a weapon's 'geist, but you're not too sure if that's the best way to introduce yourself to a new rifle
>Oh well, might as well clean her and let her come out at her own pace. Don't want to make her feel uncomfortable in her new home
>You get back to your apartment, and get inside
>And something instantly feels wrong

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>>32099220
>Your refrigerator is open
>The jug of cranberry juice is out, lid off, with a glass half full right next to it
>You don't remember pouring yourself a glass before leaving, and you most certainly didn't leave the fridge open
>Looking around before doing anything rash, you slowly make your way over to the knife block and pull out the largest one
>A quick yet careful search of your apartment later, you put the knife back in the block and are no less confused than when you arrived
>Mind racing, you go back to the spare room and find your new Precision Rifle exactly where you left it
>The situation is absolutely baffling. No signs of entry, nothing stolen, and nothing out of place except the cranberry juice
>The only answer you can think of is that one of your rifles has decided to change form while you were out
>"Alright girls," you yell out into your apartment, "Please put the juice back in the fridge if you have some. And let me know if we run out, okay?"
>You're greeted with silence

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>>32099244
>-okay, maybe I'm just losing it- you think, setting about the task of cleaning the new rifle
>Cleaning goes easily, until you're reassembling the gun and you see excess oil in the receiver
>You stick your finger in with a patch to wipe it off and the bolt slams on your hand
>Immediately, you grab the bolt and pull it back, finding another nasty gash in your hand
>You look at the wound before you shut it with superglue, and you're surprised by it
>It felt like a slashing wound and it went deep, but it looks like it's only a surface scratch
>However, instead of bleeding profusely, it's only slowly seeping blood
>You hurry through the last few steps of reassembly and then take care of the wound
>When you get back to the room, you place the rifle in the corner next to your computer, clean up the cleaning supplies, and start playing some WarThunder
>This goes on for the rest of the evening, with some breaks in between games for some dinner and other business
>But one thing's for sure
>You've got this nagging feeling that you're being watched by something with less than admirable intent
>And what's worse
>You get the feeling that it's stronger than you.
***

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>>32099261
Aaaaand that's it for part one.
I realize that my writing style might be complete and utter shit, but fuck it, I tried.
Comments and critique welcome, if the thread collectively hates it, just say so, saves me the time of writing more and then having it be wasted.
I'm going to pass out now so I don't see any comments until tomorrow, so I can wake up and be either happy or angry on my drive home. Either way, should be fun.

Thanks, all.

>>32099292
Definitely not winning any prizes for best written work in this general, but I like where it's going so far.
Looking forward to the rest of it.

>>32099292
My interest is piqued.

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>>32099205
>>32099190
>>32099172
>>32099138
just gonna use 10/22s art eh?

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>>32099292
Hmmm... I like the monstery feel of this. I will continue reading.

I'm still trying to finalize this next update of Light My Fire. I'm sorry progress is slow.

>>32099292
MOOOOOAAAARRRRR

>>32099090
>the AR-15 that kept arguing with her owner when he wouldn't take her advice while zeroing her in
>You figured they would hate fuck later and ignored them.
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

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>>32099413

Huh? This is news to me. This is the only one I remember you doing.

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>>32099138
And this is how mankind dies. Not from nukes or wars, but guys marrying their raifus...
>tfw no waifu nor raifu (am has guns)

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>>32097885

"What the hell do you want us to do about him?" Brent asks, looking up from the Russian and at one of the G.I.s that found him.

"Well I was hoping we could set him on the back of the tank and take care of him back at the camp." Brent gives the man a glare before looking back at the Russian.

"I'm not burying a fucking Commie." Brent says, shaking his head in disdain. The Russian had bailed but his parachute was critically damaged during the fire, half of it blackened by the fire.

"I never said you had to bury him, I just said take care of him. We could drop him off the cliff face, that'd be a lot better than burying him." The G.I. bargains, presenting a dopey grin to attempt to persuade Brent into helping him move the body.

"You're a fucking idiot." Brent says, gesturing at the G.I. as he turns and walks back to the tank.

"Have I ever told you guys how much I despise these god-damn newbies? They're so stupid." Brent says once inside the tank and back in the driver's seat.

"Hey Tony, what are we going to name the tank, anyways?" Brent asks, turning in his seat.

>>32099977
That's all for tonight, fellow anons!

Also who else though I was just gonna do a shorty but
is pleasantly surprised I turned it into a series?

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>>32099749

First of all, fuck my shoulder for being a piece of shit, it just woke me up from the pain and I thought it was morning. Welp, guess not, let's see what people say about the writing

>>32099395
I figured it wouldn't win any awards.
Got any suggestions to make it better?

>>32099405
>>32099535
>>32099581
Looks like I'll be continuing then. It might be a few days before I can get anything out, especially since I've got at least one vote for the 'monstery feel' and I can keep that going for a while.

>>32099629
I actually based this little side bit off of a friend. He's finishing an AR soon and knowing him and the wild ride he had making his rifle, I get the feeling that he's gonna have a love/hate relationship with it.

>>32099760
I mean, if you had the option to have an actual raifu who loves you unconditionally and tries to set up gun owners with the right raifus for them, wouldn't you?

>>32099413
Have you considered I like the art you posted in the threads and saved them? Plus, the vampire/fangs pictures are the only ones I used, because they were relevant. Everything else was pulled from a google search so that there's more than just greentext.

As for you >>32099983
I'm glad to see your writing become more serial. We need some more realistic stuff to balance out the raifu and Waffegeist stories.


Welp, now with a few more Ibuprofen in me, I can only hope that my shoulder will let me sleep this time.
Thanks for reading what I have, night (or location and time appropriate word) all.

>>32100303
>calling guard's chicken scratch doodles "art"

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Gonna post what I've got so far for Kompanions Chapter 2
------------
“So, where are you taking me?” Sascha asks from the passenger seat. While she had been quiet since leaving the apartment, there had been a subtle aura of excitement radiating from her as she stared out the tinted windows of the truck.

“It’s a surprise,” you answer, pulling into a gas station parking lot. “I try to keep it unique to each of y’alls individual tastes, so I hope what I’ve planned is to your liking.”

“I’m sure it will be, Anon. I have a notion that I’ll be happy with whatever you have planned,” she says with a petite smile. “It’s just nice knowing that my owner is willing to do this for one of his guns, even if that gun is butchered… “

The smile fades and her final words peter out to just above a whisper as she speaks, her dual toned eyes looking down at the floorboard. You’re having none of that, however, and lean across the center console to gently rest your palm on her cheek to turn her gaze towards you. Her own rough and callused hand rests upon your as she looks to you, yet not meeting your gaze.

“Sascha, you ain’t butchered,” you drawl, thumb stroking her cheek. “You’re you and you’re perfect the way you are. Just cause some asshole decided to alter you don’t mean you ain’t beautiful, alright? Now, find us something to listen to on the radio while I run in the store real quick.”

She nods, pressing your hand closer to her cheek with her own for an added sense of comfort. She finally meets your eyes with her own, the faint smile returning. You return the smile with one of your own before leaning in to plant a quick kiss on her forehead. She’s almost reluctant to let your hand slide away from her face, but relents and turns to scanning radio stations as a distraction.

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>>32100378
Exiting the Ford, you beeline for the back of the convenience store as you walk through the doors, giving the attendant a quick greeting. Ten dollars later and you’re at the back of the truck, tailgate down, dumping a small bag of ice into the cooler you keep in the bed. You then bury six glass bottles in the ice, tossing the trash into a nearby can as you walk back to the driver’s door. As you climb back into your seat, your ears are greeted by the sweet twang of country music as it flows from the sound system.

“Jason Aldean, huh?” You flash her a grin as you look over your shoulder to be sure you don’t run over any stray pedestrians idiotic enough to get in the way of your four wheel drive.

“I can change it, if you want,” the meek Geist says. “I know you listen to other genres, too, so if you want we can listen to something else.” Her hand moves to change the station, but your own meets it before it reaches the dial.

“It’s fine, country’s my favorite, anyway,” you reassure her. You keep her hand in yours, resting it on the center console. As you pull out of the parking lot, you feel her fingers slowly move to intertwine with your own. You happily oblige and return the gesture.

The next short stint of driving is spent in relative peace and quiet, save for the Southern fried music pouring from the speakers. However, Sascha seems to be getting warry of just where the two of you are going, as you passed the usual turnoff for the range a few miles back. You squeeze her hand in an effort to ease her worries, pulling it up to your face to plant a quick kiss on it. She looks over to you for further reassurance.

“Don’t worry, Sascha, we’re almost there.” She quietly nods, looking out the window as the truck enters downtown.

>>32099292
It's pretty good

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>>32100386
A few blocks later, you pull into a parking lot where you’re just able to back into a parking space in the back. The lifted F250 sticks out amongst the Priuses, Hondas, and other sedans that fill the public lot, but you’ve come to accept being in almost another world when you enter city limits proper. You climb out and make to go around to open Sascha’s door, but she meets you at the front of the truck.

“So, what’re we doin downtown?” she questions, head tilting this way and that as she scans the immense buildings around you.

“There’s a bar, club, place thing that does different themes each month,” you say, offering your arm to her. She latches onto it, almost afraid to let-go in this unknown terrain. “And this month’s theme is ‘Southern Soiree,’ which essentially means all these damn yankees are using it as an excuse to pretend to be redneck.”

“Then why are we going if it sounds like we may get made fun of?” She allows you to lead her from the parking lot and onto the sidewalk, walking a few more blocks in the direction of the bar.

“Well, I hear it’s usually not too busy with these kinds of themes, and I figured you’d prefer a more relaxed atmosphere for our first date.”

“Oh… well that’s very considerate of you, Anon,” she acknowledges, squeezing your arm a little tighter.

“I told you, I care about all of you and take things into consideration,” you say, leaning over to peck the Geist on the cheek. Her face reddens slightly at the affection, but makes no protest.

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>>32100396
Eventually, the two of you reach the club and take your place at the back of the line of people waiting to get inside. As you wait, you take in the attire of the city-folk standing ahead of you. Most seem to have taken country to mean either cowboy or redneck, with there being a halfway mix of either western garb, large belt buckles and ten-gallon hats included, or white wife-beaters and grungy jeans. Needless to say, you stick out like your truck in the parking lot: black polo, faded jeans, your favorite ball cap with an embroidered Georgia flag, and pair of boots still stained red from the red clay back home.

The people ahead of you and your date are slowly admitted to the establishment, and soon the two of you approach the bouncer. He looks over your outfit, then Sascha’s, and shakes his head as he pretends to check “the list.”

“Not on here,” he grunts. “Back of the line.”

“C’mon, Anon, it’s not worth it,” Sascha sighs, pulling on your arm.

“Now hold up,” you say, holding up a hand. “Sir, may I see the list? I’m sure there’s some mistake.”

You’re handed the clipboard, the bouncer rolling his eyes. You flip through the stack of papers that contain a myriad of names that were more than likely pulled from the pages of a phonebook, stopping every so often pretending to search for you name. You soon triumphantly hand it back to the hired muscle.

“Page 9, you’ll find things in order.”

The man flips the pages back and finds the twenty you slipped into the clipboard, eyeing it before giving the two of you one more look-over. He finally tucks the ersatz document under his arm and steps to the side, gesturing for you to enter. You usher Sascha in through the double doors before he can change his mind, thankful it only burned twenty dollars. You had thought it would require at least fifty.

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>>32100404
“What was that back there?” your Mosin asks as the two of you make your way around the edge of the crowded dance floor. In an effort to both keep to the theme while satisfying the more urban patrons, some Frankenstein fusion of house and banjo music is blasting over the speakers. The two of you find a table for two in a back corner, far enough from the sound system to avoid having to yell at one another.

“Oh, I just found my name on the list, you know how hard of a time some people have reading such small print,” you lie, grinning wide.

“Cyka, you bribed him like a backwoods sheriff,” the Southern Slav giggles, prompting you to hold your hands up in feigned innocence.

“It got us in, didn’t it?” you ask as a cocktail waitress appears. You order two beers and a basket of fried chicken legs. You hand her the cash and hope in the back of your mind it’s at least KFC tier.

“It’s more crowded than I thought,” Sascha comments, looking around the establishment.

“Yeah, I guess my source was wrong,” you apologize.

“Well, the music isn’t the worst I’ve heard… “

“You’re joking, right? The dude in that last song rhymed ‘nigga’ with ‘banjo.’”

“Okay, so it’s terrible.”

The waitress returns sooner than expected and sets two stout bottles of a microbrew you’ve never heard of, a plate containing no less than three miniscule drumsticks accompanying them. You and Sascha can’t help but just stare at the plate and drinks, unsure of what to make of them.

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>>32100417
Will leave it at that. Hopefully I can churn out a bit more tomorrow if time permits. Questions, comments, and concerns can be filed with FortunateSons

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>>32099292
Don't put your dick near the gun.

>>32099977
>>32099983
I'm happy with these turn of events. As for what to do with a commie, how about divide him among everyone equally by burning him to ashes or detonating some ordinance?

>>32100303
I'd rather have a daughteraifu instead of a raifu

>>32099292
I'm liking it so far, keep it up

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>>32100438
>Questions, comments, and concerns can be filed with FortunateSons

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I wish you all a wonderful Thanksgiving.
Part 9 of the Etiquette Guide is here but a bit shorter than normal because my flight boards in about twenty minutes. There will be more in a few hours.

http://pastebin.com/W16wDWPG

>>32100417
The picture is my exact face with what they were given as well. Microbrew I am fine with, as they can be good as long as it's some some weird hipster shit with too much hops thrown in because IPA-rage, but the barely anything on a plate bullshit fucking sucks

>>32100784
>RFL update
Awww hell yes

>>32099292
I just want to see Katya punch the vampire ruger if it tries to hurt anon. Personally a pissed off babushka is scarier to me than a vampire.

>>32100784
Noice, new RFL

>>32101264
Never mess with angry babushka with rolling pin. It's like a Hispanic mother with a flip flop

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>>32094864
>>32095362
>Year of our lord 2016
>Not having falwritefag as your waifu

Shame.

http://pastebin.com/y82ymFLb

>>32092232
When your life goes in a spin, put throttle to idle, full rudder opposite the direction of rotation, and yank the control column forward. Hold until problem stops, then pull up.
Serial-1, signing on.

The Russian now gone, you lay yourself against the wall, making sure you do not end up sitting on your tied-up arms. A comfortable position to re-align your senses on what shit you got yourself into.

So, we have this guy named Mark, leading a group of people under the banner of a Polenesian sweet potato harvesting forum.

On the other hand, we have a bunch of Chinese soldiers held as prisoners. You have no idea how are they going to deal with them after this, but it seems like they ain't going to kill them. They even patched that one guy whose arm got blown off.

Bill, on the other hand, seems to have even deeper problems. You are really not sure on what shit has he seen, and you don't want to know. At least he's asleep for now, Natalie stroking down his hair. The face his 'geist has is a far cry from the hysteria earlier.

>"Uh, guys, she's awake! Hey, are you OK?"
The girl with the glasses cries out. Seems like sleeping beauty is up. You try to make your way to her, but you are quickly reminded of your plight as you fall over due to your legs being tied up.

>"You cannot move, let me help you."
Strela helps you back up and drags you up to where Amelia is, slowly lowering you down to the ground...

...then suddenly, on the last few inches, drops you down hard. You only wince at the pain your rear end felt.

>"S...sorry, sticky bolt. Still many cosmoline."

As fast as she came, she immediately bolts away. She is certainly an awkward individual.

Well, you still have someone to attend to.
She still appears to be a bit woozy, seemingly trying to gather her bearings.

>Glad you are now awake, Amelia.

Her eyes then lit up.

>"Come on Anon, how many times do I have to..."

You quickly put your index finger up to her lip, cutting her tirade short.

>>32100463
>rather have a daughterraifu
Depending on how much I write, this could be arranged.

>>32101264
This implies that 'Katya' actually has a Waffegeist. She's never shown herself yet, so we're still here with a Shroedinger's cat on whether she's got one or not.

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>>32102606
>put throttle to idle, full rudder opposite the direction of rotation, and yank the control column forward. Hold until problem stops, then pull up.

this sounds like you are creating a flatspin...

>>32102613
Not telling you to do it, just stating my own personal preference. Do whatever you feel most appropriate, I don't want you to feel forced to bend to fit any one person's tastes, unless you specifically ask.

>>32097939
I'm confused; what story is Elke from?

>>32102749
A much earlier fic Guard made when writefagging was a big thing on /ak/.

Here's a link to it, or at least most of what I remember that was written http://imgur.com/a/jvPjs

>>32102606
>I know, Mel, just fucking with you. Just don't talk for a while, clear things up in your mind or anything.

She straightens up her face so as to stare at the ceiling, probably her way of doing what you just said. Well, if it works for her, okay.

>"Hi. I didn't get to know your name. I'm Anne."
The girl in glasses spoke up.

>Hello Anne, nice to meet you. I am Anon, thank you for looking out for her.

>"No problem. Now that she's awake, I am going to leave you with her for a while, you okay with that?"

You just respond to her offer with a nod, and that prompted her to stand up and leave.

>"Can you just stay by my side for a while, Anon?"

Amelia broke the silence once more.

>Don't worry, I am not going anywhere for now.

She goes back to staring at the ceiling.

Just a few feet away, it seems like Bill just woke back up from his sleep.

>"Where am I? Zis is not Germany, or America, ja? Who are you?"

>"You are on a mission here, you just said that earlier today. Feeling better now?"
Natalie speaks out.

>"Mission? What mission? Oh, zhe one my owner got sent here for in by zhe Agency?"

>"Your owner? You mean him?"
Natalie then points out to you in an incriminating way. Like, in a"point on the doll where he touched you"-way.

>"No, he isn't him. My owner is Bill. Bill Wilson."

>"But you are Bill, remember? You said that earlier."

They now both appear to be heavily confused.

Then it dawns on you. Somehow, the USP waffegeist Bill has told you earlier that cannot manifest by herself, did it. She is now in control of her manifestation, as it should be.

That leads to another question.
Where the hell is *the* Bill Wilson right now?

>>32102623
flat spin recovery, that is.
Also 7075 aluminum has a tensile strength of 77 KSI. It wouldn't get off my mind.

>>32100784
YYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAA

>>32102662
I don't feel like I'm pressured to include anything.

However, all the responses that I've got have done one thing: give me ideas for more to write

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>>32102805
>the rest of that story is lost with time
>like tears in rain

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>>32102805
>>32103824
might get bined on the weekend, there is desu archiver for this stuff

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>>32103824
>>32104285
>"You are not my shooter! My shooter is GEORGE. NELSON. Not you!"
>The waffegeist of the Springfield m1903 pointed her finger at the nose of the man who had unboxed her in his living room
>The CMP had guaranteed him a collector grade rifle, but the flury of rage that unfolded once he opened the box was the last thing he expected
>"Where is he?! Why is my George?! Where... WHERE THE FUCK EVEN AM I?!" She bellowed, her heavily booted feet thumping on the hardwood as she turned in place
>Her smooth brown hair curled and swished around her shoulders while bright amber eyes coursed back and forth
>She came to a halt facing the man standing confused before her, eyes boring into his own
>"Just who the HELL are you?" She said with a piercing rumble, squaring her shoulders and setting her feet angrily

Could you tell her he was dead?

>>32104414
Yes. Diplomatically tell her the truth.

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>>32100784
These last two parts have been comfy as fuck. Looking forward to more.

>>32094841
Damn this a good song, thanks for posting it. It feels like a fitting song to play after the story I'm posting.

>>32102579
I really liked this story, I could see it in my head to a certain degree, really poignant.


Also here guys, this is the Fallout: New Vegas inspired story I meant to post a little while ago. Just a warning, it doesn't follow lore to a T because I played the game with a multitude of mods, so some weapons and chamberings are a little different, I wrote as I thought of it in my head and based on what I played with.

I hope you guys like it, if you're feeling a little analytical while you read watch out for two song references I stuck in there. Here's the link:

http://pastebin.com/zK8SN054

>>32102805
>>32103824
>Lost in time
>imfuckingplying
Yall niggas just lazy as fuck.
>Go to Desuarchive /k/
>Put Guard in username
>All posts and stories with his name pop up
Now get working faggots

>>32104414
Carefully. Very carefully.

Finished Kompanions 2. I'll post the rest when we hit next thread, or in this one if it stays slow.