/wfg/ Writefag General-onwards trusty horse

https://pastebin.com/N4c9j2sx

Last time on Damaged Goods Chapter 4: Memories

>”I was thrown into a crate with my own sisters; it felt like years before I was finally taken out and stripped for parts… I’m guessing that's when my bolt went off to National Ordinance…”
“Just your bolt…?”
>”At the very least… that's where everything is for us.” She said, tapping the side of her head. “It’s who we are; our memories, personality, everything is in there.”

“...”

>”T-thank you, Anon…”
“For what?”

>”…after that day, I never thought I was going to be truly wanted again. I know the sacrifices you have made for me, so… thank you… thank you for proving me wrong, for dashing my fears away… for making me feel needed… wanted… loved... I know we don’t have much here, but I swear, Anon, that I’ll never let you down... as long as I am yours, I will never let you down.”

>She pauses momentarily, eyes turning downward

>”Still, you need to know... fixing me physically won’t make me perfect… my whole past has been nothing but war and isolation... these memories, these “dreams” still haunt me, but I promise I won’t let tha-”

“Well you know what, Anna?” you say, getting back up to your feet. “I may not be able to change the past, or take back these horrible memories, but…”

>Extending your hand, you can’t help the smile forming on your face

“Well, I guess we will just have to go and make some new memories…”

>She slowly reached out, taking your hand into her own

“Together.”

Damaged Goods Chapter 4 (cont.)

-~-~-~-~-~-(Three fucking weeks later)-~-~-~-~-~-

>”Look, we can talk cash when you get here, Anon. Just try and get here as soon as possible, it’s closing time.”

*CLICK*

“Bullshit” you muttered, sliding the old flip phone back into your pocket. “Fucking. Bullshit.”

>What was only supposed to be“an afternoon or two” has turned into a nearly month, each hour, each day pulling more money from you
>Money which has become all the more precious since losing your 3rd shift position at the dollar store
>It wasn’t for doing a poor job; the whole dollar store had been closed down
>Guess these things tend to happen when you’ve been dodging taxes… stupid old man…

>With the book store being closed until the start of the new semester, you had no immediate means of income
>Hell, you’ve only managed to keep yourself fed by buying groceries with your “Emergencies Only” credit card
>You never realized quite how awful your own cooking was before Anna arrived; everything you had been making tasted bland and boring in comparison
>In fact, everything about the cold, dingy apartment suddenly felt worse off without her there
>Almost as if everything had lost its’ color, it’s life
>It event felt a little colder

>Tossing on your coat, you rush out the apartment, struggling to lock the tired looking door behind you
>The new lock the landlord put on after the break-in was somehow worse than the old one…
>After a bit of persuasion, the lock finally turns over

*CLUNK*

“Fuck sakes.” you curse, patients having long been lost
>Hoping to catch the next bus, you practically run down the stairwell, every step flexing, creaking beneath you

>Skipping the last few steps, you dash out the building's foyer and into the street
>To your relief, you could see the bus rumbling up the road

>>34102433

Damaged Goods Chapter 4 (cont.)

>Leaving Anna with the smith was harder than you thought it was going to be; having spent the majority of her time in your apartment in Geist form, she was starting to feel more like a real roommate than simply a spirit of some rifle
>Which made handing her over to a complete stranger feel so… wrong
>The only reassuring thing you were told was that, since she was going to be stripped down to the very last piece, she wouldn’t remember much of anything
>”These past few week will have felt like nothing more than a dream” he had said so whimsically

>The real bad news started once he had opened the box containing Anna’s new receiver
>You didn’t realize it, but the new receiver was bare steel, the old finish having been stripped away during its rework process
>He offered to only have the receiver finished at a reduced cost, but warned that her skin tone may look splotchy, or uneven if it didn’t match the old finish exactly
>She was going to need to be completely refinished if I wanted her looking right; a process which was not going to be cheap...
>And he needed the money up front to refinish her, wiping out what little you had saved

>To make it worse, the gunsmith had been giving you the run around the entire time; this so-called “Mauser Expert” seemed to be everything but
>Hell, half the time you were the one finding answers to questions he should have already known
>Late nights spent in front of your laptop, researching thread sizes, front sight hood removal, even how to strip her bolt out of the receiver…
>All because this guy was “a bit rusty on the topic”

>Rusty my ass; he has no idea what he is doing with a 1903
>You should have picked Anna up from the smith right then and there...

*HISSSSSSSS*

>The airbrakes of the bus snap you back to reality

>>34102440

Damaged Goods Chapter 4 (cont.)

>Stepping on board, you swipe your pass and take a seat
>An elderly woman wearing a purple, ankle length downy coat being the only other occupant of the bus
>A knitted cap holding in silver streaks of thin hair

>Taking a moment to finally collect yourself a bit, you let out a long winded sigh, leaning your head back, closing your eyes
>It was only around 7:00 PM, but you felt as it was closer to midnight, stress having worn you down physically as well as mentally

>Cracking open an eye, you can’t help but notice how horrible you look in the reflection on the window
>Bags under your eyes, unruly hair sticking every which way, a faint frown lingering on your face; you look like Hell...
>Using the dim reflection, you do your best to make yourself look presentable; wetting your fingers to flatten the “bed head” you had neglected

>”Heheheh…” came a faint giggle opposite of you
>It was the elderly woman

>”It’s a girl, isn’t it?” came the fragile sounding voice
“I, err… sorry, what?” you replied, unsure of what she was getting at
>”Oh, there’s no need to be coy, dear.” she said, yellowed teeth showing through her slight smile. “Afterall, men only fuss over their looks when a girl is involved.”
“It’s… not like that.” was all you managed to stammer out

>This only raised further laughter from the woman

>”I hope you are more honest with her than you are with me!” she chuckled

>This lady must be lonely or something…

“...”
>”I didn’t mean anything by it, dear. You just had me reminiscing about my own youth.”
“It’s fine.”

>Definitely lonely

...

>”Could you answer something for me?”
“Sure…”
>Turning her body towards you, she leans in, speaking in a hushed tone
>”Is she beautiful?”
“Well, uhh… I mean…” you stuttered, struggled for the words

>>34102455

Damaged Goods Chapter 4 (cont.)

>Why is this so difficult? Just need to answer the question
>Of course Annabelle is beautiful, her long chestnut hair, honest, dull jade eyes, the gentle curves of her form; you would be lying if you said no
>But in the end, she is a Geist… making this entire conversation nothing but absurd

>”Hehehe, that is all the answer I needed!” she cackled, point at your face
>At first you had no idea what she one on about, until you realized just how warm your face felt
>Your cheeks must have been as red as cherries…

>This ride can’t end soon enough

...

>The bus arrived at your stop a short time later; the elderly woman giving you a cheery “good luck!” as you hopped off

“Thank God…” you mutter, beginning the short walk down the poorly lit street to the windowless, cinder block constructed building

>>34102465

Damaged Goods Chapter 4 (cont.)

>A weathered, black tin sign reading “GARY’S GUN AND GEIST REPAIR” in white lettering adorning the side of the structure
>A smaller sign by the door read. “All Geists MUST be in gun form prior to entering!”
>Gary had mentioned how some Geists can be quite emotional when going to the gunsmith, especially if they aren’t terribly keen on what was about to happen to them, so keeping them in their gun form made handling all the easier...

>Well, here goes nothing

>Approaching the door, you hold the buzzer down

>”This is Gary.” crackled over the speaker
“It’s me Anon, Gary.”
>”Ah, Anon! Glad you could make it. I’ll buzz you right in.”

>The door jostles as the magnetic lock disengages with a clanking sound

>The shop itself was rather straightforward
>There was no greeting area, the moment you step through the front door, you are in the shop
>The building wasn't enormous, but Gary had made good use of the room he had; lathes, presses, numerous benches, and about half a dozen safes were scattered all throughout the shop
>Half built rifles hanging on racks on the far left wall, none of which seemed to be of any Mauser pattern

>But what would catch anyone's attention upon entering would be the woman sitting on a stool merely feet from the door, thumbing through magazines
>She was pushing 7 feet tall, easy; fair skin, thighs like tree trunks, arms fit to crush an oil drum, wearing an OD green tank top with Multi-cam pants cinched around her waist with a webbing belt, black leather combat boots laced around her feet
>Her bright green eyes, long blonde hair kept up in a simple bun, and fair facial features did little to take the edge off of how intimidating she was

>>34102483

Damaged Goods Chapter 4 (cont.)

>This was Gary’s own shop built M2 Browning, or as he would call her, Jane, the workshops “security system”
>...and she was reading a gardening magazine...

>”Hello, Anon!” she said in a friendly tone, waving
>You couldn’t help but flinch a little at her gesture… you had no idea Geists could get so big
“H-hey.” you said, trying to speed walk past Jane

>Still, it was no small effort to build such a machine gun, which made Gary’s trouble with figuring out a Mauser pattern rifle all the stranger; maybe he was desperate for the cash
>Aren’t we all…?

>”Anon! Welcome-welcome-welcome. I bet you're eager to pick up your 1903-A3… Annabelle was it?” Gary said in greeting, seeming all too happy
“Gary.” was the only greeting you returned

>Gary was a man in his early fifties, black and gray peppered hair, a goatee, and a large bald spot on the top of his head which you only ever saw when he removed his ball cap
>Large wire framed glasses magnifying her eyes to seem far larger than they actually were
>There was just something about him you never quite trusted, even before he started giving you the runaround
>He seemed to give off the aura of a used car salesman

>”Ah, I see you are eager indeed. Well then, let's not make you wait any longer.” he said, shuffling off around to one of the safes

>Only the sound of Jane humming and flipping through pages broke the silence

>”Here we go!” he said, returning with a long object wrapped in a gun sock

>Stripping off the sock, he revealed your 1903A3… she was unrecognizable, looking almost brand new
>The steel had been refinished to look much darker than before, but the tone went well with the stock
>Taking Anna into your hands, you cycle her a few times… smooth as silk
>Everything felt tight and well put together; the “Remington” mark on the receiver helped to draw the whole package together
“Whoa…”

>>34102492

Damaged Goods Chapter 4 (cont.)

>”I’ll take that as a compliment!” Gary exclaimed
“Yeah… this is great, Gary.” you admitted
>”It wasn’t easy, but in the end I think it turned out rather well.”

>Anna is going to be ecstatic...

>”Now, Anon,” Gary began, removing Anna from your grasp in one swift motion, returning her to the safe. ”I hate to break up this happy reunion, but we need to talk about payment.”

“Oh, uh, course.” you said, trying to ignore the knot forming in your stomach
>”As you know, there were a few… bumps, along the way, she ended up eating a lot more of my time and resources than I had planned.” he said, retrieving a manilla folder from one of the bench drawers

>The knot in your stomach tightened as he started fingering through the pages

>”Among the larger costs, there was the refinishing job which you already paid for. The action thread conversion, which broke not one, but two rather expensive taps… I don’t know what they made that receiver out of, but you won’t have to worry about it blowin’ up, hehe.” he chuckled
>”Then there was a few smaller things, never hardware and such for her, but where you’re going to see the majority of the cost is in the labor.”

>Here we go…

>”Now, Anon, I’m not a cruel man, I’m well aware that it would be preposterous to charge someone for the full 107 hours I put into-”
“107 hours?!” you blurt out

>You knew it was bad, but 107 hours? That's well over $6500 in labor alone
>This better be one Hell of a discount

>”Yes, as I was saying, I don’t expect anyone to pay the full price, as it was… a learning experience for us all.”
>Jane chuckled at the comment, causing Gary to grimace
>”Anyway… to cover the bare necessities…” He said, passing you the final sheet from the folder

>With a shaky hand, reach reach out and take it

>>34102505

Damaged Goods Chapter 4 (cont.)

“...”

>Looking at the number at the bottom of the sheet, you didn’t know whether you should laugh, cry, or vomit…
>Or more precisely, which one to do first

“$2100…” you mouthed silently.
>”Now I know it was probably more than what you were expecting, but I need to be able to eat and keep the lights on, Anon.”
“$2100.” you said aloud this time, in disbelief

>”Yes’sir. I take cash, credit, or certified check.” he said nonchalantly

>Staring at the paper, you didn’t just see a high number
>No more groceries, no rent money, no books for the next semester, financial ruin…
>And worse… no Annabelle…
>That wasn’t an option...

“And if I can’t pay?”

>At that, you heard a magazine crinkle; you had obviously caught Jane’s attention

>Gary let out a deep sigh
>”If you can’t pay within four weeks, then I will take legal possession of the rifle per the documents you signed when dropping her off, at which point I will be free to do with her as I please, including selling her to the highest bidder to recoup some costs.”

>There was no other choice, you knew what needed to be done...

“...you said you take credit?”

>>34102516

Damaged Goods Chapter 4 (cont.)

>”...Hey! You getting on or what, man?” the bus driver barked, finally catching your attention
“Uh, yeah. Sorry…” you said, maneuvering the cheap plastic case containing the newly refurbished Anna through the narrow entrance
>You figured it would be best to follow Gary’s parting advice
>”You might want to keep her in the case until you get home, they can get a little excited after getting fixed.”
>This was perfectly okay with you… even though they weren’t people, the buses still charge for anything taking up an extra seat
>It’s not like you would be even be able to afford a second seat now anyway...

>Plopping down on the nearest seat of the empty bus, you try to collect yourself
>The knots in your stomach and nausea have subsided, turning to pure anxiety
>Heart racing, mind clouded and cluttered, desperately searching for a solution to the financial pitfall you have found yourself in, that YOU put yourself in

“...”

>In your mind, you didn’t have a choice, you couldn’t let Anna waste away in a safe for any longer
>Though, you’d be lying to if you said that was the only reason; the thought of giving her up… you feel strange admitting it to yourself, but she was your companion, a friend
>Maybe even your best friend at this point…as sad as that would sound to some

>Reaching into your coat pocket, you pull out the receipt
>$2163
>The bastard even had the audacity to charge a credit card fee...
>Your skin goes cold just by looking at the paper statement

“...”

>Anna can never know how much you spent on her…
>Knowing her, she will only blame herself

>The sudden deceleration of the bus can only mean one thing, this is your stop
>Hastily stuffing the receipt back into your coat, you leave the bus, hard case in hand, and step out into the cold

>>34102526

Damaged Goods Chapter 4 (cont.)

>Completing your ascent to the top floor, you fumble for your keys, the stubborn lock seeming like such a small issue now
>Shuffling into the living room, tossing your coat across the couch. laying the hard case on the ground
>Okay Anon… Time to put on a happy face…

>Popping the latches, your begin to lift the lid
“Anna, we’re ho-”

>The cheap case practically explodes open, sending you to the floor
>With a lively blue flash, Anna is standing before you, though she was too preoccupied to take notice
>For a moment, her feet are frozen in place, slowly running her hands up and down the length of her body, inspecting the new fabric
>Apparently she liked what she felt, letting out a short, quiet giggle as she extended her arms out for further inspection

>The greatest visual change was to her outfit
>Her old cracked leather boots replaced with rich, brown, freshly oiled leather knee highs; the yellowing white dress now as white as unsoiled snow
>A form fitting navy blue pea-coat with golden buttons and snaps complimenting her figure
>She had an entirely different aura about herself; the once sickly looking woman was now full of warmth and life
>The whole apartment seemed to glow along with her

>Annabelle took one step, then another; left foot then right, before giving her dress a small twirl, giggling once again
>She was the very image of elegance and beauty, this spirit of your 1903, yet, right now, she seemed entirely human

>You have seen her in points of great sadness, passion, fury, and now, happiness
>The latter being your favorite, by far
>Still, the crushing financial burden still lingered in the back of your mind

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>>34102537

Damaged Goods Chapter 4 (cont.)

>The sound of you getting back to your feet must have caught Anna’s attention
>Before you know it, she has her arms wrapped around your torso, drawing you into her embrace
>The smell of old milsurp no longer clinging to her body, and has been replaced with...
>...Roses?

>”...”

>No words were needed to express her emotions, you both just stood there for who knows how long, before you finally broke the silence

“Hey…” you whispered
>”Hey…”

…

“Any more pain?”
>Anna only shook her head “no”, nuzzling your neck
>”Thank you, Anon.” she whispered, “Thank you…”
>No other words were needed

>Finally releasing you, she steps back, quickly wiping the moisture from her cheeks
>”Sorry, it’s all just… it’s a lot to take in”
“No, I get it, I’m sure you-”
>”It didn’t cost too much, did it?” she says, cutting you off

>Your heart skipped a beat
“No… not at all.” you force out. “It was about what I expected.”
>”Good.” she said, giving you a bright, warm smile

>As happy as that smile made you, it did little to comfort you
>Your financial situation remained the same, with no way to pay for the repairs, let alone your next grocery trip
>Anna was going to find out at some point...

>”Hey, how about I make you something to eat? I’m sure you-”
“I’m actually pretty tired, Anna… I think I’m going to go lay down for a bit”
>”O-oh… well, okay.” she said a bit puzzled. “I’ll just straighten up the place a bit then.”

>Her confusion was obvious, and well founded
>What was supposed to be a happy and joyous reunion was being cut short because you were “tired”, it was hardly even 9:00 PM

“Thank you, Anna.” you said before shuffling off to your room
>Closing the door behind you

>>34102549

Damaged Goods Chapter 4 (cont.)

>You fall back onto your mattress, staring up into the darkness
“What are you going to do, Anon… what are you going to do?” you mumbled
>You could try throwing your resume at every fast food joint in town and just hope they’ll work around your upcoming semester
>Not that that was likely…
>Maybe you could get a couple hundred bucks from selling the laptop… though, that would make school all the harder…

>You let out a drawn out sigh

“...”

>In the silence, you can hear Anna’s footsteps around the apartment, presumably straightening up the mess that has accumulated since she has been gone

>”*GASP*!”

>...what?
>You knew that the place got a bit messy without her around, but it wasn’t-

>”ANON!!!” came a shrill scream from the living room, followed by stomps coming down the hallway

>Wait…
>Your coat
>The receipt

“Fuck…”

>Your bedroom door flew open, the silhouette of Annabelle standing in the doorway holding a small bit of paper

*Click*

>Anna flicked on the lights, her jade eyes wide with...surprise?
>Fury?

“Anna…” you say, sitting up on the edge of the bed
>”WHAT. IS. THIS?!?” she yells, shoving the receipt in your face

“I-I… uhh… I... “ you desperately searched for words. “...didn’t know you had a real concept of money…?”
>”Of course I do!” she practically screams at you. “You CANNOT afford this!!”

>All you can do is shrug your shoulders
“I don’t know what you want me to say…”

>Anna crumpled the receipt, allowing it to drop to the floor
>Her clenched fists quivering in anger
>Tears forming in her eyes

>She approaches you, holding your cheeks in her hands, making sure you are looking her in the eye
>You manage to avert your gaze
>”Why?” she chokes out. “Why are you doing this? This could RUIN you… WILL ruin you!”
“...”
>”Answer me!”

>>34102560

Damaged Goods Chapter 4 (cont.)

“You’re all I have…”
>The thought had been dwelling in your head for weeks, but saying it out loud felt strange
“I have no family to speak of, no one to be there for me… I guess I could just relate to you, I don't know…”
>You reach up, taking her hands into your own
“I know what it's like to have no one care. I just didn’t want you to feel how I have felt… how BOTH of us have felt ever again…”
>”...”
“I just wanted to take care of you…”

>She only stood there in stunned silence

“I’ll figure something out, okay?”
>”...”

>Free her hands from your own, Anna hiked up her skirt slightly, straddling you, wrapping her slender arms around the back of your neck
>Her face merely an inch away from you

“Ann-?”
>You were cut off by tender lips pressing against your own
>Your mind was buzzing. Is this wrong? Do Geists feel love on a romantic level?
>At this point, you don’t think it matters

>Reaching beneath her thighs, you pull her in more closely, allowing your hands to explore a bit further; drawing a sharp gasp from Anna
>Her tongue now dancing across your own
>Breaking the kiss, she reaches up, letting her light chestnut hair down

>Everything was happening so quickly, her hands tugging at your jeans, fingers making quick work of the button and zipper
>”Let me take care of you…” she whispered into your ear, planting kisses up and down your neck. “I’ll take care of you…”

>Something felt… wrong, though. And it had nothing to do with the Geist undressing you
>A ringing sound was growing louder in your ears…
>Your hands going numb, followed by your legs, torso...
>What…?

>Your vision grows darker, Annabelle fading from your view
>You're in a sea of darkness, void of all sound or sensation
>Drowning… why can’t you breath??
>Panic is setting it

>>34102577

Damaged Goods Chapter 4 (cont.)

-~-~-~-~-~-(Now)-~-~-~-~-~-

>Sensation returning… cold… it's fucking cold…
>Why does everything hurt…?

>Something has a grip on your throat
>Choking, what are you choking on???
>Why can’t you see? Try and try, but your eyes won’t open

>Reaching for your mouth, you grab the obstruction and pull
>Retching violently, you cough and gag as the you draw the object from your throat, gasping for breath

>An alarm starts screeching in the strange room as you paw your face seeking what is obstructing your eyes; it's sticky…
>Tape…?
>You strip it away, the bright lights in the room flooding in, yet all is blurry
>Rubbing your eyes, the view clears up a bit, but not by much

>Hospital…?

>It all comes back to you; the range trip, the ND, Sophie…

>A team of women in medical scrubs come rushing into the room pushing a cart
>”Oh my god, he’s awake??” cries one of them in disbelief
>”M-Mr. Kneemose?”

>You just stared at them

>”Ma’am, you can’t... MA’AM!” shouted a male voice from outside the door

>A tall figure forces its way past the nurses, freezing before you
>Though your vision is blurry, you can still make out colors
>Light chestnut hair
>Jade green eyes
>You can’t help but smile

>And only one person on Earth can bring that smile your face

>”H-hey…”
“Hey…”

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>End of chapter mood music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=odu43XwsfhE

Sorry that it took so long to get this update out, life, job, all that good stuff...

Anyway, this closes out Chapter 4. This chapter turned out to be far longer than anticipated, and probably could have been broken up into two. Maybe I will update the formatting in the future, but for now, it will remain as is. It was fun getting to experiment a bit with flashbacks and backstories, so I hope you had just as much fun reading this as I have had writing it!

As always, I want to thank everyone who has stuck with me this far. Readers are by far my greatest motivation to continue writing, whether it is the (you)’s that are given, or the growing view count on my Pastebin, I appreciate all of it.

That’s all for now. I hope you all are still enjoying Damaged Goods.

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>>34102611
YES, FINALLY

>>34102415
I just started reading but I know it's gon b good, thanks for the update, I've been waiting for this like if I was a methhead.

>>34102611
have a (you)

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>>34102611
Goddamn this is good. Glad to see Anon is actually alive. A very exciting end to the chapter.
Mr. Construct, you always make my day. I hope you know that.

>>34102638
Sorry I took so long!

>>34102666
Damn, thanks man. Hope you are enjoying it!

>>34102788
>(You) received

>>34102853
Thanks, Road. I'm glad I am able to make your day a bit brighter!

I'm no RFL, but I liked this video, so maybe RFL will too. https://youtu.be/vMSwXZNLj7I

>>34103061
That...

That was worth the wait.

>>34102611
I'm so glad you posted.

>>34102611
Good to see that you're now bringing this story to the present. All the stuff beforehand definitely made the jump to the present all that much more powerful.

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I heard you were working on an update, Barrett.
Don't make us wait any longer.

how long do you think pervitin is shelf stable for?

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They used to give me this shit to keep me focused in school.

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>>34104746
>>34104770

Can you imagine if meth aged like wine? Like a hundred year old baggie of meth and it's just pure fucking craziness.

I don't know man; make some and find out.

>>34104778
They better find that fucking toddler and take his gun, then.

But seriously. I don't know. What's the recipe?
>inb4 meth helps autistic kids be calm during school
I also used to be skin and bones because I couldn't eat during the day and my activity levels dropped because I didn't have the energy for it. Not a healthy trend for a seven year old.

>>34104814

I never learned how to cook meth.

It's a glaring omission in my otherwise flawless "Grew Up In a Flyover State" resume.

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>>34103355
Happy that you thought so!

>>34103788
I'm glad you're glad I posted.

>>34103957
I'm looking forward to getting back to present day in the story. I've missed writing for the rest of Anon's Geists.

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>>34103061

it was worth the wait mate, it was well worth it

>patientlty waiting for next chapter

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>>34102611
YES!!!!

>>34104853
Worth the wait, fucking top tier shit, m8.

>>34102611
Yus finally, good shit worth the wait

>>34102611
I recognise good stuff when I see it. And I'm looking at it right now

>>34102611
Wohoo, an update! Moar please?

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>>34102611
You are muh nigga. Making the first day of the work week 100% better.

>>34102611
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ST5_Tx21ghA

>>34104853

Glad to see it posted, this is my favorite follow right st the moment.

>>34104853
That might be just me but I find it to be quite the high quality compared to some anon trying to post here. Are you published by any chance ?

So, I've been thinking about this quite a bit, but I wanted to get some opinions. How would you guys feel about me going back through the story and changing the physical description for Annabelle? The biggest changes would be to her outfit. The Girls Frontline pictures were good inspiration, but I wanted to really make the character my own. Her personality will of course remain exactly the same.


>>34104947
Thanks Poly!

>>34104986
>>34105041
>>34105833
Glad you guys enjoyed it! More to come in the future!

>>34106259
Happy I could make your day better!

>>34106303
This may be one of my favorite reactions

>>34106859
Thanks! Glad you're enjoying it!

>>34106912
I am not published, but the fact that you think I may be is really flattering...

>>34105712
>>34106097
>Somehow missed these two
Thanks guys!

What would you do if you were to start a story ? I want to try but I'm afraid of doing something not worth reading.
Do you read the story yourself days after writing it ? Do you make a draft ? A timeline ?
Do you know where it will end up and what will happen during the story before you even write the first chapter ?
Do you gather feedback around you or just here ? Do you take ideas from books, series, movies, or do you build everything up from scratch ?
Have you things to guide you like
>DO
>DON'T DO
>AVOID
>HOW TO
or something ?

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KvsW is up to date
https://pastebin.com/f03ZfwUd

ATannie is up to date
https://pastebin.com/pVKHpP7g

worked more on the sticky
https://pastebin.com/5yG5C9ek

>archive his bins
>just need to agree on the new guy from previous thread

feels fucking weird to be up to date

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>>34104497
*rees in Gaelic*

>>34107286
>I want to try but I'm afraid of doing something not worth reading.

Nobody is born knowing how to write, and to be honest, I have yet to see a really bad story(out of fanfiction) the challenge nowadays is not to create a good story but a fucking excellent one. Almost everyone has been exposed to the last milenia of cultural creativity and a shit load of people are unknown writers that have the talent but not the exposition living in a world where their work is degraded by simple economic law "excess of offer"

So don't worry about your story being shit, if it is you will only have to read more, otherwise it will probably be just another "good story" and will just pass like air in the front of a cinema carrying one little small dot of dust, amusing but in the end people is looking at the biggest creations.

Also, a story being good or bad is meaningless too, they are not really inherently good or bad, its in execution the point that people notice something lacks quality.

So yeah, unless you are a writer that depends on people's money you shouldn't care if its good or bad just express what you want to do and leave your creation to the vultures to see if they eat it or spit it, just to have a reference but in no way deterministic on your style.

>>34107286
I just had an idea based on "Hey I think it would be cool for WWII tanks to fight xeno filth" and then it went way WAY overboard

>>34107286
I sometimes compare writing to taking a shit.

I first eat a lot culture either fast trashy culture or healthy classical, and after digesting it I just have to go to the keyboard and shit it out, the more I wait the more pressure I feel to do it, the end result is the same; I look at the result with disgust and flush it away unless I feel like taking it out of the water and show it to the neighbors.

>>34107286
Was feeling pissy and angry, and wanted do something cathartic as I cannot go shooting on a regular basis, among other things.

Played a lot of Hotline: Miami, and at the time there was also a glut of romance-SoL fics, so I took the opportunity to do something else. Ended up more writing for myself than anything, however...

As for how I went about it, I storyboarded it in my head, put it in a rough draft, cleaned up a day later, and released it. Had an idea on how to end it, and pretty much started with my story going from what would be the "middle" did whatever until I wanted to end it, to which I built up the final parts to the ending.

I dunno, just make sure your grammar and sentence structure is fine. Reading helps, as it gives you an idea on how to present your mind into words from other authors.

>>34107852
>>34108145

You did everything at once and released it ? It was all done from the start ? Or did you released a bit, waited to see reactions, corrected a bit the next part and so on ?

>>34108018
>watching tv
>suddenly a loud knock on the door
>pissed_anime_girl.png
>open the door
>here stands anon, the weird neighbor
>he has shit in his hands
>he is smiling
>"Look at it, it's MAGNIFICIENT"
>it's a turd, a warm, juicy, smelly turd
>pass out and fall head first into turd
>Anon proceeds to sing the turd to bed next to you in a rhodie camo blanket

I hope you don't do this.

>>34108226
Nah. Both stories I do I write and release in ~2500 word segments. Sort of long enough for story and I can do it often enough for people not forget me

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>>34107286
>>34108226
I actually have no idea where the fuck my story is going and it probably shows. I just sit down and sometimes belt out a few paragraphs off the cuff.

>>34108226
Nooooooooo. Only thing I wrote all at once are each chapter. No way in hell did I write it ALL out and then release gradually.

>>34107051
>how do you feel about the author retconning his description

It's your shit, man. You do you.

my friend just got a fucking PHD in UFOlogy with a minor in cryptozoology from cambridge christian institute. He's certified to know everything about X... I feel oddly underaccomplished AND over accomplished next to that.

i-i'm working, i swear

>>34107051

I don't think that it's necessary, but do whatever.

>>34110666
Sure you are Satan. You can't fool me

>>34110666
Howdy, satan! Been a while. I think I might have you beat on bad things.
>Mfw I went into a masonic lodge today...
>Has a vaguely salty something about it.
>mfw I applied to freemasons.
https://youtu.be/3KquFZYi6L0

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>>34109768
>>34111508
I feel that people are already attached to the current imagery of Anna, so I wanted to throw the idea out there to see what people thought. I appreciate the feedback.

>>34112331

I read your post and all I could think of was this

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XXtQMz1RGNw

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>>34112567
Whatever floats your boat. You do you, not like it changes anything from the plot.

>>34102611
Do you have a backup where i can find the other chapters to this,like on a website somewhere? Also amazing story.

>>34113839
Look in the pastebin man

>>34112567
It's very nice that she fits your image of her. I mean it gels that the GF 1903 is gorgeous, and like... mom-tier

But more descriptions is never a bad thing

>>34115168
>gels
*Great, durp

>>34113777
>It's not like it changes the plot
Exactly. I'll think it over.
>>34113839
I posted a link to my stick in the first post in the thread. Also, what >>34114151 said. There are a lot of other stories you should check it in there as well!

>>34115168
It was nice that it worked out as well as it did. Like I said, it wouldnt be a drastic change, she would still be completely recognizable as Anna.

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>>34115792
>forgot name

>>34115206
Gels...kinda works. It's an older slang for "congeal and result in, usually positive in connotation".

Not a bad fuckup, JTPhone

>>34115206
Actually that's a real term. I've heard "does it gel" used to mean "does it make sense"

Finally done with this part. Writing wasn't easy, didn't know how to put many small parts and how to finish it. found how while ordering chinese tea bag holder.

___

“What? We dig? Are you insane?” she says while looking at you, her eyes filling with disbelief as you answer with a positive.

“You’re serious. Why, for the love of God, do you want to dig? It’s a potato field!” she continues, still dismayed that you would make such a decision. She grow accustomed to your logical decisions and use of cold facts to make choices, not to you making sudden decisions after wandering seemingly without purpose in a potato field in Flanders.

What she does not know is that you saw many things. Some can be described easily, like a torn-up body, a couple trying to muster what’s left of their courage. Others, not so much. How can you describe accurately the firestorm Man unleashed on those fields a century ago?

>>34116457
The smell of rotten corpses in the sun or still warm bodies in the mud, water entering the lungs and pushing the air out in a comical burping sound. The sky shattered by small black puffs of smoke. The shells eating mouthfuls of earth and throwing it around. The screams of wounded soldiers, lying down face first mere meters away from their trenches and yet miles away from aid. The 2-inch tap of machinegun servants, mowing down men like sickles mow down wheat.

All those things, those sensations, those feels, are to be experienced to truly be understood. Even in you ghostly episode, you only had the place of a mere spectator. You could hear and see, but not feel. You could be afraid or inspired, but it was not because your life was on the line.

It was an Ersatz. While you could never have the first-hand experience, you had something that could pass for fear, for courage, for pain. And it was enough to make you wish you would never experience it yourself. You could wish for war while you were alive and well, fed and clothed. But would you wish for war if it meant living in the mud for years, being bitten by rats the size of your forearm and finally dying to a shell falling too short?

>>34116465
While all those questions were bouncing around in your head, you made your way to the car and took out a little shovel. Coming back to the spot where Jane stood still, trying to understand what is making you act so, you bend over and begin to dig.

The shovel bites the earth and throws it up with each swing. The soil is a bit muddy, but not so much as making you slowly fall down inside of it. You begin with a shallow hole, just enough for you to have both feet in it, before extending it until it was about two square meters wide. Then you dig deeper, slowly sinking in the ground just as some did it, wounded and screaming for help.

Jane is standing on the edge of the hole. She looks at you for a while, arms crossed, her face expressing incomprehension and dismay but also pride and empathy. She turns back and walks away. You can hear her boots in the mud, the wet sound of the soles being pulled from the ground before diving again. The footsteps slowly fade. Metallic sounds take their place for a moment. You can guess she is coming back.

>>34116478
Your back arched to relieve pressure on your back muscles, you take a swing for a PET bottle hanging from your belt.

“Need a hand, tough boy? Or are you too stubborn?”? You can hear the banter in her voice and feel the worry in her words.

“Never knew you were a fan of mud fights” you answer, trying to show her you were not about to bury yourself alive. She grins, throw you gloves you manage to catch before they fall in the pit, and jumps down next to you.

“You know, you’ll have to clean me when we get home. Guns and mud aren’t the biggest of friends.” Standing before you, her elbow resting on the handle of her shovel, proudly wearing a shirt she bought some weeks ago. It originally read “Guns & Roses” when you saw it. You have no idea how, but it went from roses to mud and the fabric seems to be closer to her body than before.

“Sure. But for God’s sake, don’t throw yourself in the pit just for that. I’m not into mud play.” You say, perhaps a bit too rudely. Her smile vanishes and she starts digging with angry determination. You pick up the pace and soon the two of you are throwing mud out of the pit in rhythm.

>>34116486
With the sun setting down, you decide to pause for a while. Your stomach is grumbling, begging for food. She is still going, not paying attention at anything around her or anyone beside her. You watch her a few seconds, and slowly climb out of the three meters deep hole. You look back to see her shoveling mud out of the hole and you manage to dodge it.

You make your way to the car and set up camp a dozen meters away from the angry digging girl. The tent is big enough for two if you sleep close to each other and it will have to do. You plug a cartridge in the camping stove and take two tin cans out of your bag. Spaghetti and ravioli with sauce, the cheapest you could find.

You set the two to heat and unwrap the sleeping bag. You have a big one, for you, and a smaller one, for her. You were sceptic at first because the small one had little holes in it and wasn’t as warm as the new one you bought for yourself. While the holes in themselves were not alarming, leaving the car wide open in the rain was indubitably a mistake.

>>34116490
A dry red sleeping bag was laid down beside a wet, blue, smaller one. A chilling wind blows through the fields, as if to tell you the night would be cold. You sigh audibly and go back to the pit. She is still there, shoveling mud into small mounds all around the pit. She is visibly tired and stops for a bit.

“Need a hand, tough girl?” you say with a grin while jumping down.

“Oh hell, and now comes the charming prince! Had a nice break?” she answers, tired and angry. “Give me that bottle” she says while turning around. She grabs it and begin to drink. You take the time to look a bit at the hole. It’s four meter deep now and wider too. Jane is still drinking away the bottle and you let your gaze wander on her.

Her throat is moving with each gulp, sweat is rolling down her forehead and her arms; her shirt is drenched around the neck. A large stain has appeared on her back. Her pants are more mud than fabric and her boots are still making that slushing sound.

A small string of water is falling down from the bottle. It swirls around her lips, down her jaw, falling down along her throat, making its way downhill, rushing over her collarbone, wetting her shirt. You stay here, your eyes following the water. You never saw her in truly light clothes and the discovery is a happy one.

She finishes drinking and gives you the bottle with a satisfied sound. You take a tissue from your pocket and mop up the droplets on her forehead before they fall into her eyes.

>>34116496
“Come one, camp’s set up for the night” you tell her over your shoulder, climbing out of the hole. She follows you back to the tents. The stove did his job and the food is as ready as it will ever be. You sit on logs you brought from the little grove farther down the road.

You are both tired, but sleeping so soon isn’t something you are used to do. You decide to make a fire to keep you awake longer and to have some kind of warmth in the night. Stones are nowhere to be found and you make do with kindles and small logs. Wet wood is hard to set alight but with some dry branches, you manage to have a small, ridiculous fire going.

You sit down right beside it. She takes a bough and stirs the flames. You just enjoy the little warmth on your legs, your eyes fixed on her. Her face is lit up by the fire, flames dancing around in the dark, illuminating the small details on her face and giving her changing expressions. You contemplate the ballet of colors and lights on her. She looks up from her work.

>>34116504
“You know, you’re not that bad for someone digging for fun.” She says, the fames dancing in your eyes, a smile on her face.

“You’re not bad either” you answer automatically before realizing what you just said.

She looks at you in the eyes a second before becoming increasingly interested in stirring the fire.

“We should sleep if you want to dig tomorrow too” she says, standing up quickly and going over to the tent. She opens it and begins to lie down in her bag before jumping out in surprise.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you.” You say, not sorry at all. “Your bag is all wet because we let the car wide open. “
“But, I can’t sleep in it! I’ll rust! Give me your bag!
- And where am I supposed to sleep? In the car? You want me to freeze to death?
- I don’t want to freeze either!
- And what do you propose?
- I’m a gun, not a girl. And for God’s sake, I’m not your girlfriend. We sleep in the same bag, but tomorrow, mine’s better be dry!”

It isn’t really what you expected. Too tired to argue with an angry Geist, you make you way into the tent and lie down in the bag. She joins you just after and lie down almost on you, her head resting on your shoulder. You wrap your left arm around her with no reaction.

“You better not get any funny ideas” she whispers, her right hand on your chest.

“Whatever” you groggy mind manage to think before drifting away. ”It could be worse”.

>>34116511
And that's it for now !
As usual, I really appreciate feedback. I'm trying to have to two of them changing gears in the dynamic but it's not easy to do without being cheesy of cliché. I'm also trying to make have talks that are not banter or serious explenation of a mathematician's bet. Don't think it's working quite well for now. hopefully I can have some nice dialogues in the next part.

I'm also contemplating starting another story. It would be set in a post-SHTF/SHTF France. Themes I'dl like to explore would be how Man can cope with loosing what he was used to for decades, how faith can shape a suffering mind and how sometimes, guns are your best buddies.

>>34116534
>post SHTF France
I'm actually very curious about it. Isn't it also prohibitively expensive to own any guns whatsoever?

>story feedback
Damn good execution of plot. I can see WHY he wants to know how it felt, and can see how she resents going back, mentally, to the killing trenches and fields. The only thing I want to tell you is that some of your verb conjugation sounds odd to native English speakers. No, English doesn't make sense very often. Yes, it can be a pain in the ass to learn when you natively speak a Latin based language.

Have you looked into having a proofreader? I know Chronicler (from /tg/) is working a translation of a GermanBro. Hell, I know plenty of people that would be glad to help, myself included.

>>34117215
>I'm actually very curious about it. Isn't it also prohibitively expensive to own any guns whatsoever?

No that bad. There's 2 way : hunter or sport shooter.
You can become a hunter and get a lifelong licence. Exam's pretty ok. But you're restricted to hunting weapons. You want a semi-auto AR15 ? You can't. You want more than3-5 rounds ? You can't.
You can become a sport shooter. You have to be in a shooting club, be registered there each year, and bam, you can own guns. The trick is, a bunch of club will say "we don't recruit new shooters anymore" or "you need someone to vouch for you". That's because they're afraid some dumbass will register in their club before going ballistic. You can go around that by registering in a club that doesn't care then ask for the transfer to another club. Long procedure, but does work. You can own semi-auto ( a friend of mine has a MR223, Glock 17, a shooty, and a 22) and pretty much every weapons that is legal in France.
But you have to apply to special autorisations for semi-auto and handguns, rifled shotguns are a big no-no, there's a limit on rounds depending on guns, etc...
It's hard compared to the US, it's easy compared to some other countries.
For the prices, hell yeah. Last time I checked, a matching byf42 k98 was about 480€. Without shipping, bayonet, cleaning kit. Juste the rifle.
a Savage Mk.II FV (Jane) is about 450€. With kit and shit.
Add to that you HAVE to buy a safe or a "trigger lock"...

>feedback feedback
See, I made a mistake somewhere or I did write as I wanted. Because you understood that Jane was in the trenches once, but she wasn't. She's a "brand" new .22 and never experienced it. He, thanks to something that will be talked about later in the story, had mental images, hallucinations and shit, of being in the german trenches.
For proofreading, if you want to, why not ? I mean, it can only help.

>>34117310
Poly has my email (I don't have a burner) and also my discord. I don't know of other ways you would like to contact me.

>>34117419
you can send me one on froganon.wfg on gmail. or one here : [email protected]
As you want. slipry is a burner.

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>>34115792
If you feel that a description change helps you better describe her, then I would go ahead and change it.

It's not like the stories ending hinges on how she looks.

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bump

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>>34119694
bümp!

>>34116534
I'm liking it so far. Do please continue, and your english is pretty good.

I am interested in what you do have in plan for a post-SHTF/SHTF France.

bumping with a video of a song the Soviet troops sang as they invaded Finland in late 1939:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wfs35AEypFw

>>34120860
and the Finnish response:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mOEmFg2EOR8

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1944

The Third American Civil War is raging Northwards as the CSA are starting to make substantial progress into the Union. For once, the South is capturing a considerable amount of land ever since the First Civil War. This time around, however, the South does not look to stop at just sending a message to the Union, instead the nation bares the intention of complete capitulation of the North.


Jefferson City, Missouri
The Eighth Artillery division is cut off from Mcfert's Third and Fourth Infantry divisions, forcing the remaining men to use guerrilla-style tactics to fend off Motorized and Calvary divisions of the encroaching Confederate Army.


It's great to be back, /wfg/.

For some writefag shit what would you suggest for some post-apocalyptic outfits in a lightly irradiated Kentucky?

>>34122958

Did you know that the toothbrush was invented in Kentucky?

>>34122764
Woohoo, I was wondering where you disappeared to! Great to see you back as well.

>>34102341
How would a book called Zulu Oscar fair?

It's 2007, and the war in OZ is raging. Dorothy (a synonym for the average Joe), is hunting down the witch of the west (a synonym for Bin Laden). The Witches goons (Al-Queda), is posing an insurgency, making it hard to get to the wizards palace (Fallujah), which turns out to be a complete shit show. Inside, the wizard (synonym for the people of Iraq) is compeltely retarded. He has no idea ehat he's doing and ends up HELPING the witch. So dorothy hunts her down and finds her after 15 years of searching. By then, she's rough and raggedy, needing attention and TLC, but she hits her mark and kills the witch. She takes the body back to her world and buries her at sea.

Its a rough sketch, but would this conceivably work?

>>34123964
That's... interesting

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>>34102341
Month three of static unemployment, not the welfare kind either. Three months since i worked full time, since i worked a real job; not serving food to fat Jews in Hollywood. Three months since i could say, "Sorry, i'm too busy working this week", hours spent making money are now spent in anxious hiatus. Oh, it's that day again, the day like yesterday, but it's one of 7, and 6 after. Time to see my family, time to tribute their hearts with the thought of future reward in their investment. What will i say this time..."Turns out my business needs more start up funds, I'll have to get another job after all!", and they'll be proud that i tried, glad that i'll look for work. Next week i'll be trapped, either in a lame job paying 8 dollars and hour after taxes, or equally as uncomfortable; sitting by my father as i explain to him in as many words as i can conceive, how i have failed yet again. What could he expect from me! Not a highschool degree, no GED, no official work experience, i was doomed to be a small business owner from the start. I'll figure it out, working as a wagie isn't so bad. After all; one more year of 39 hour workdays and i'll have just enough money by today to build the website i need. One day.

Twenty mile per hour winds push our hauler north, 1/4th the speed of our downward race toward wealth and our families future. The mirror is broken, swiveling madly as gusts chase the mountain ridge like hungry hands on a woman's body. Time to leave the carpool, or die! Maybe the traffic jam wasn't so bad after all, i bet they're not going to die, sitting patiently on their convoluted tar conveyor belt.

Fuck it i don't have time for this.
anyways i was getting to my point about going to alaska to escape poverty and degeneracy. Fill that shit in yourself. I'm buying a gun and going innawoods when i get there.
Here's a link to the audio book:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gwmKfaOADws

>>34102341
anyone know any good/informational books on the usmc scout snipers?

>>34125623
In all genuine seriousness and compassion, have you tried to google it? I'd imagine there would be a ton of books about the subject, and reviews on them that could point you in the right direction.

>>34125649
Here and there. Mostly find manuals or stuff on the seals. Just thought there might be a few more niche ones the lads around here knew of.

>>34125659
Ah I see, I've never read any books specifically about it, just books on the broad subjects of military groups. Maybe someone here can help out better. Not as good a source but maybe some sort of documentary off of the History channel can give you some info? Best of luck anon.

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bump, originally I imagined Riikka to look quite different, but after seeing this pic I think this suits her character better.

>>34126797
>TFW you never have a gorgeous tactical wolf raifu giest waifu to operate with.

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>>34126902
Riikka is a Finnish spitz though

>>34126797
That lumbar curvature looks distinctly uncomfortable.

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UPDATE IS DROPPING

>STORY SO FAR
https://pastebin.com/Sa6N0je7

>CASEFILE 7 SO FAR
https://pastebin.com/f03ZfwUd

THANKS POLY

>>34128172

The room he led them into was dark at first, but illuminated with bluish fluorescent light at the flick of a switch. It wasn’t that large of a room, perhaps little more than a repurposed utility closet. But it had a reloading bench on one end and a few rifles on a wall rack on the other, so it seemed to serve the priest’s purposes just fine.

Adam grabbed a bullet from the bucket and tossed it to Dave. He rolled it over in his hands. “What caliber is this?”

“It's .577/450 Martini-Henry. It's what I feed to Lilly over on the table out there. Silver-cast, dipped in holy water, carved with a little icon of St. Hubert, the patron saint of hoonters.”

Dave handed the bullet to Chris to have a look.

“Does any of that stuff actually help?” she asked as she examined the carving.

Adam shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. I'm not going to bet me life that it don't, in any case. Better to stack the deck in yer favor.”

“I suppose it is. I do wanna ask, though, why make do this in such an obscure caliber?”

“Call it nostalgia for a time before yer time, perhaps. Ye know what I'm talkin’ aboot, aye? I saw those Rhodesian pattern knickers ye have on back at the motel.”

Chris’s face turned beet red, and Adam laughed heartily. Dave cleared his throat.

“Relax, just ‘avin some fun with ye. Anyway,” he said, reaching over to the gun rack on the wall and pulling an Enfield carbine off of it, “I've gone ahead and made some silver-cast rounds in some good ol’ .303 Empire Builder in anticipation of your arrival. Didn’t get to make too many, though. So when it comes down to the wire, make sure yer shots count.”

>>34128180

Dave was handed the rifle and a couple of clips. He started working the bolt a few times, getting a feel for the weapon.

“What about me?” asked Chris, hands on her hips. “You wouldn’t have happened to make some silver 7.62x39?”

Adam shook his head. “I doon’t have a Kalashnikov pattern handy ‘round ‘ere, and didn’t expect ye to be bringin’ one either. Went in a different direction.” He opened up a drawer on the reloading bench and pulled out an old .455 Webley and a small sack presumably full of rounds for it. He tossed both to Chris, who gave him an incredulous look in return.

“What the fuck’s with you and these oddball calibers? You expect us to fight monsters with this old shit?”

“Oi! Watch yer tongue, lass! This ‘old shite’ won two world wars and subjugated entire peoples, so show some bloody respect!”

She lowered her eyes and grumbled, turning the old revolver over in her hands to figure it out. She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up again to see Adam holding a cavalry saber in a leather scabbard. “Take this as well, in case ye need it for a particularly close encounter. It’s saved me arse more than once out in the field.”

“A… sword?”

“Aye, lass. A sword. Before ye complain aboot it, yes, it’s outdated. But it’s still just as effective as it was three hoondred years ago.”

He quickly showed her how to loop the scabbard into her belt and directed her to the main room to practice with it. She pulled on the hilt and the blade came out with surprising ease. She sliced the air a few times, watching the light glint off the silver blade. She wanted to complain. She really did. But at the same time… she was finding it pretty fucking cool.

>>34128189

She pulled the old Webley from the holster on her other hip. With the revolver in one hand and the sabre in the other, she could envision herself standing on the lip of a trench in Somme or Ypres, ordering her men over the top. Yes, it was growing on her. She struck a dramatic pose with the sabre pointed in the direction of the imaginary enemy, those damned Hun werewolf bastards waiting in the trenches a scant hundred yards away.

Dave cleared his throat behind her, causing her to flinch out of her fantasy. “Oh, uh. Sup?”

“Having fun there?” he asked with a smirk.

She let out a long breath. “A little.”

“Too bad this guy doesn’t have uniforms from the period as well. I’d like to see you in one of those tan uniforms with a little officer’s hat. You’d probably look really cute in that.”

“Heh… where’s that coming from?” she asked, blushing slightly and smiling. He took the opportunity to give her a little peck on her lips.

“Oi, make sure ye gits don’t engage in any carnal activities while under me roof! Because it aren’t just me roof, it’s the Lord’s roof as well.”

“We weren’t… ah… nevermind. Sure, whatever,” responded Chris, rolling her eyes.

“Aboot sleepin’ arrangements. I may be a gracious host, but I aren’t that gracious. Have the couches if ye like. Only got one cot, that’s for me.”

“The couch’ll be fine,” replied Dave.

“Good. Blankets and pillows in a little closet over there, grab some if ye like. It’s pissing late right now, I need to get me some shuteye before tomorrow is here.”

“Alright. Goodnight. And thanks.”

“Doon’t mention it.”

>>34128196

The next morning…

Dave and Chris were awoken by the sound of clattering glassware. Adam was starting his morning by heaping a mound of ground up instant coffee into a drinking glass and filling it up with water, then gulping the bitter mess down on the spot without even bothering to mix it or warm it up. He then pulled a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet, poured it in the glass and swirled it around before gulping it down as well.

He noticed them watching him and raised his glass. “Breakfast of champions,” he said plainly.

He did have the decency to fix his guests some actual food for their breakfast, though it was only some instant oatmeal nuked in a low power microwave. Adam took the opportunity to explain his plans for the day. He was going to take the pair on a drive around the town and point out residents he’d been keeping tabs on.

It wasn’t a very long drive, maybe taking about four hours total. It was a small town, after all. And it helped that Adam didn’t linger around the suspects’ homes, making only a couple of passes on the road.

A bit of hiking followed. The priest showed the pair area where he’d left the trail cameras, and they made a quick swing back by the motel before returning to the church. In daylight, the scene looked different, though not by much. Yellow crime scene tape fluttered in a light breeze. A bit of asking around gleaned them that the Sheriff had fabricated a tale about the night before to satisfy the residents, involving a bear attack and a pair of drunken hooligans from the next town over.

“Gotta admit, the guy works fast,” Dave said as they trudged through the dead leaves on the forest floor.

“Once again, he’s a crooked git, of course he works fast.” Adam stopped to pull a flask from his vest and gulp down a bit of the nectar from within. “He’s got to cover his own arse, don’t he?”

>>34128208

“Mhm… so, anything else you think you’ll need to catch us up on?” asked Chris, walking up to and leaning against an old tree.

“Nay. You’ve at least seen the long and short of things now, enough to help me in earnest.”

“How long do you think this’ll take, Adam?”

“Hard to say. Maybe a few days, a week, two weeks? They’re either going to move up their timetable and come after me sooner, or go back into hidin’ now that we’ve thinned their number by one. Yer arrival certainly weren’t something they were countin’ on. Daft bastards were probably expectin’ to find the wee old preacher man all by his lonesome, and rough ‘im up like they were RUC men durin’ the Troubles.”

“Eh?”

“Doon’t worry aboot it.”

Dave was in the middle of stretching and popping his back when he suddenly stopped and called over. “Hey, guys? Do you smell smoke?”

“Smoke? I don’t....” Adam’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, oh no! Fookin’ell les’go!” He took off at a sprinting clip, and the pair struggled to stay on his heels.

They were running back in the direction of the church, and the smoky smell grew stronger. They could see a black plume rising up into the sky. And then they could see the flames through the trees.

>>34128219

Adam broke into the clearing first, and stopped for only a moment to register what he was seeing. His church was burning to the ground. No sooner that Dave and Chris arrived back at his side, he took off again, rushing headlong at the flames.

“Lilly! Liiillllllyyyyy!” he screamed.

“Adam, for fuck’s sake, what are you doing!”

Still, he ducked into the flaming structure and disappeared from sight.

“Did that crazy fuck just run into a burning building for his rifle?!” screamed Chris, struggling to be heard over the roar of the flames.

“Fuck, fuck fuck! I’m gonna get him, we have to-” Dave was interrupted when he had to shield his face from a blast of heat, that resulted from the steeple collapsing in on itself.

“Fuuuuuck! Adaaaaam!”

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>>34128229

>THAT IS ALL FOR NOW
>WILL ADAM RETRIEVE HIS BELOVED LILLY FROM THE FLAMES?
>WILL WEREWOLF BE REMOVED FROM PREMISES?
>WILL OUR PLUCKY HEROES SURVIVE?
>ALL THOSE QUESTIONS WILL BE ANSWERED
>NEXT WEEK ON
>/K/OMMANDOS VS WILD

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>>34128248
Suffer not the werewolf cur to live

>>34128229
YOU CAN'T STOP THERE

also, a Martini Henry named Lilly...?

>>34102341
"Would you like to contact tech support" It asked.

"no"., as I continued working. Imagine lovingly crafted hydraulic fittings, rendered useless by a single "o" ring.

Said "O" rings were well over a milennia out of date, and nobody but your's truly had the chuff to roll them from absurdly old stock..
Notwithstanding other skills like being a "near 5000 year old " glorified oil change tech" and "Last real "human" alive".

Anyhow, I dug a fantastically ancient crescent wrench from a pocket, and loosened the fitting, then stuffing a stupidly well bioengeneered bit of plant in there, that immediately sealed up the mating surface.

Suddenly the Amazingly stupid fifteen billion ton war machine was working.


FFS, what a piece of shit. Still, they may let me finish that old Dodge truck I unearthed for this. They did let me keep that M1918 they unearthed, simply because I knew what it was and how it worked. .

And yes, it still kills as well now as it did when it was made. Old M2 AP with proper tungsten-steel cores chops shit up just fine.

All that aside, now that I'd fixed the monster....
I was again, unemployed. Sure, I had nigh upon unlimited credit, could "buy" whatever I wanted, except what I really wanted.

A bit of peace.

Really I wish I'd have been let go. But ~7400 years ago a loving relative had stuck my broken, stroke crippled ass into a cryo chamber.


And now, here I am.

The last man who knows how to fix shit.

Welcome to hell.

>>34130234
I take down a bottle of horribly replicated Bourbon.
The glass I use is at most, five minutes old, and still warm from the foundry. T

his is fine for some of what I try to kill my pain with. Not so with a shitty replicant of Evan Williams.

I gag the sauce down. The fuckers have fixed my cancer, removede innumerable fragements, and tried to set me on a course of "proper diet".

The stack of "dietary aids" shot full of holes by the M1911 I was buried with should have hammered the message home.

The sole thing my long expired brother got tight was burying me with my Colt.

Cryo freezing me with said piece was not what I wanted.

So yeah, far in the future, some fuckwits woke up a less than healthy and surely mentally unstable K-tard who'd been "interred" with a loaded M1911. Yeah, shit did not end well.

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Fiftythree, Chapter 3, A change of perspective...

My ears twitch at the sound of distant gunfire, pinning back at the thought of Fiftythree and Anon alone out there. I sigh and sit up, looking around Anon's bedroom. The Armalite, Annie, and Hatfield the shotgun are watching Live PD reruns on TV. I stand and go the them.

"Girls... I'm worried about Anon and Fifty..." You say. Hatfield looks up at you, blue eyes and Southernized looks contrasting with her Arab features. "I am too, Mauzra." She says to you.

"They're fine, probably fucking around back there." Annie says, laid back. "They can handle themselves, just try to relax, gramps."

"You aught ta listen to her, Ann. She's been through more than either of us..." Hatfield says, looking between me and the AR.

"I thought they were hunting coyotes, not Krauts or Croats." Said carbine grins, watching the TV as I frown down at her.

(Pls no hate, had some difficulty getting this from head to keyboard.)

>>34130667
The whole
not working" deal, seems if you imagine it, it will work". is a thing now.

So, yeah.. I'm a weapons factory. WHen the fuckbags can catch me, and get me drunk enough.

Really I spend a lot of time fishing...
No really. Earth is pristine, and near uninhabited. I've spent years on the Big Two Hearted(yes, it still exists) catching steelhead from what is left of Superior.

the "humans" now humor my behavior as primitive antics. I laugh.
I could easily kill them all, but that would put the trout down for a while. I've forgotten more about killing than they've ever imagined.

Well, the next engagement will prove this. Maybe they will leave me alone.

>>34130739


One last "push" as they say. The tiny grey mewling masses.

Sure. I see the enemy. Insectoid, hive based. They are just looking for a nest, But...Yeah. Fuck them.

"Here" I imagine. A total matter/antimatter charge. still not understanding why they never came up with same.

It is launched. A kiloton of anti-plutonium, driven by tachions.

The end is massive. I have killed billions of sentient lifeforms, and all I care about is
Can I hit the next Smelt run"? The war is over.

Soon I find myself abandoned on "earth that was". Immortal, indestructable. A terrible weapon forgotten by what my people have become.

And I do not care.


A seven millenia old Mepps spinner is tied on a length of poly-microlinear line. I make a few casts, and relax, beginning the retrieve with a rod made of monofiber laminates, and a reel that is a perfect reproduction of an old Mitchell 300.

And I wait.

The fuckers will need me again. I have already loaded the old bunkers with new weapons.

Eventually they will call.

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Hey gang, I'm having a lot of trouble with chapter three of my story. I want to develop the two main characters, the soldier and the AK giest, and I can't really figure out how. Everything I think up sounds weird or cheap and i don't want to make the characters boring. Any advice is appreciated. Also, look what showed up at the FFl today!

>>34102611
I just read all of the pastebin. Keep up the good work.

>>34128248
Good shit anon

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>>34102611
While I realize Anna isn't "evil'"per say the fact that she tried to STAB Sophie leads me to believe there is going to be some harsh conflict coming up

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>>34133578
i can't wait

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You know, it's kind of amazing to look at the whole pastebin and see just how much everyone has written

More than enough to fill several verynthick books

A lot of effort and love of stories yas gone into this general since it started

just something nice to think about

thank for making my lunch breaks better, writefags

>>34130831
Heh. Liked that one

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The Last Skirmish of the Eighth Artillery
https://pastebin.com/6hrpGcqD

"Damnit, stay down!" David calls across the elevated dirt road while staying crouched behind a small house. "If I don't move they're going to fucking slaughter me!" Christoff calls back, staying prone while rolling over to one side to project towards his friend better. The road the two artillerymen are looking down is barren, being elevated slightly so rain-water can run off of it, the road provides itself as a small ridge to climb or run over, meaning Christoff and David are essentially cut off from each other, despite being located directly across from each other on either side of the road. To David's left, a couple of shotgun-shacks that serve as ample cover from any flanking cavalry divisions from the Greys. To his right, the road and Christoff, who remains dug-into his foxhole. Likewise, to Christoff's right, a large garden that provides as a deterrent to any flanking motorized Johnny Rebs who might be tempted to rush through the right flank.

Down the road, however, sits a multitude of buildings and alleys that mask the movements of the distant Confederates. "Stay the fuck down, you'll move when I tell you to!" David shouts again, trying to urge Christoff to remain in his current position. "They're going to push, I know it, if I just fall back to the sandbags I might stand a chance against them!" The riled Private yells angrily. "If they do push then you hose them down, you're the one with a fucking machine gun after all." David calls back, a slight smile stretching across his face. "It's not that hard to mow down a charging mass, is it?" The soldier remarks, leaning the stock of his M1 Carbine against his right thigh, his crouched stance not wavering. "Funny, jackass." Christoff curses at David from across their dirt divider.

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>>34134155
David jumps as he hears the thirty-caliber, Christoff's thirty-caliber, start firing. Dust flies from in front of the gun as it spits out lead towards Rebel forces, causing David to peak around the corner to see what his buddy is shooting at. An olive-colored truck barrels down the road, windshield busted out and the hood already bearing several holes from Christoff's thirty. David hops out of cover and lies prone against the road, steadying his rifle against the ground while letting loose at the mass steaming towards him. A loud pop sounds from the truck as a large hole sinks into the radiator, water and steam shoot from the opening, leaving a fairly noticeable trail behind the charging metal beast. As the truck begins to draw near, it veers slightly, throwing itself off the road after a wheel leaves the elevated road, thus bringing the truck rolling over itself and onto the ground right next to the dirt road.

"Nice shooting!" David calls, moving himself onto the road slightly to look over at Christoff, who looks back at his friend with shaking hands. "Yeah, you too!" He calls back, face contorted in an angry scowl. The wreckage of the truck now burns, due to an engine fire sustained during its crash off the road. David pushes himself back off the road and brings his posture to an upright crouch beside the dirt road, his attention focusing on the burning wreck as opposed to the Southern position, his admiration for the mesmerizing destruction calming his nerves and bringing him out of the war for a couple of seconds.

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>>34134162
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bEvBCnHPM4Y

Hollering, hollering is all that filled the air from the Grey's side of the road. David turns his attention from the fire and towards the yelling from down the road. Dozens upon dozens of men clad in that same olive-grey as the truck, situated upon horses, are now charging towards David and Christoff's position. Each of them are either armed with a pistol, a M1917 revolver or M1911, a M3 Grease Gun, or some carbine or bayoneted rifle. But most importantly, every one of of them are letting off a terrifying howl, a piercing war cry that raises the hair on David's neck. The Northerner soldier starts squeezing the trigger rapidly, not even bothering to shoulder the rifle, just attempting to fire blindly into the mass in an attempt to down as many as he can before they're able to fire back. "Damn you, Billy Yank!" One of the riders calls out before firing a shot at David, who snaps back to reality right as he fires.

In almost an instant, David is encased in dust and popping noises as the crowd of cavalry soldiers begin firing from horse-back, their bullets fall somewhat wide but close enough for David to feel the vibrations and percussion of the lead hitting the ground right at his feet or just a foot away. The soldier drops his carbine and scrambles behind the house to his left, his arms flailing wildly as he tries to keep stable, move fast, keep low, stay somewhat collect, etc. Soon enough, dozens of horses go charging past him, a couple of the men on the horseback turn and fire back at David, but their shots fall even wider than before. David slams against the wall, his mouth agape in utter shock and his body numb from the overload of adrenaline and the rush of being missed by mere inches. His vision fades quickly, but in a gradual manner, his eyelids closing not by his will and his mind slipping but not on his terms.

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>>34134168
When he awakens, David realizes that not only is he in immense pain, but that he appears to be lying in a field hospital of some sort. Through the canvas roof of the small tent he's in, the Union soldier notices the flag that lies over the top of the tent as identification to aircraft, the Confederate flag. The soldier sits up slowly, his eyes tracing over his torso and limbs, noting that about five areas are dense with bandages, most likely places where he was shot during that cavalry charge. "How are you feeling?" A nearby grey-clad medic asks, taking off some rubber gloves. "You're one of the luckiest men I've seen. Five hits and they all went clean through. Outstanding!" He remarks, filling up a shot glass with an unmarked bottle of alcohol. "Here, you deserve this." The Rebel offers, never breaking beat once after approaching David. "Thank... You." David says, hesitantly taking the glass from the medic.

"It's a home remedy, my family has spent years 'shining, ever since the seventies." The medic reminisces, taking the empty glass from the injured Northerner. "What happened to Christoff?" The dazed soldier asks, pausing and shaking off the burn after finishing his question. The medic turns, his face and demeanor challenged. "Christoff?" The medic asks, approaching the side of David's cot. "The guy who was next to me." David clarifies, mind not registering exactly what could have happened to his friend.

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>>34134174
"Oh, that fella', he got hit pretty early on from what I heard, when I showed up he woke back up and pulled a knife, started swinging at us, so one of the boys, I think his name was Clyde or Reverett, he put a pistol to his back and shot him three times. Awful thing, he kicked his legs out real hard when he shot him that first time and he stayed sprawled out like that for a while. We finally got him on a wagon to a grave here about half an hour ago. Terribly sorry for ya if you knew him." The medic says, retreating from David's side after apologizing for his friend's death.

David, although vividly recreating the event as the medic described it in his mind, can't seem to fully register it. "Christoff. Dead? No. Not him." David thinks to himself, his eyes slipping further and further shut as his body goes numb again, his injuries forcing his consciousness further and further out of him as he succumbs to those five Reb bullets.

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>>34134178
Just a little simple story to ease myself back into writing.
No footnotes, everything is pretty much explained.
Enjoy, /wfg/, please provide thoughts and-or critiques.

For a hundred years I've yearned for something, anything. I watched and waited when they said I was going to the trench, and I was terrified, I thought that like the rest of the generation I'd end up dead on the fields, then something happened.
Months before my spring revelation in nineteen nineteen the war stopped, and the liquidation of resources began. At first it was nice being in a crate with my friends. Then we started hearing the others being taken away to the furnace. I was spared, slipped into a new warehouse in the same crate as always. Life went on, and the days turned to years, years to decades, and now to a century. My crate was finally opened, containing many more like me than the rest of the world believed to even exist, and as we were extracted, we were valued, we were marveled at... Now there's only a handful of us, but after the years of waiting, the constant silence, eroding my mind, I finally see the sunshine once again. Maybe this time, I can at least see some use on a range.

-Pederson Device, 2020

>>34134486
I don't even know of this is sad or not

>>34134185
Nice to have you back

>>34134571
Yeah, I really fucked up. I was alucidating over how hell's a nice place to visit and left out the whole point of writing it.

>>34134590
Then again... The pedersen device is really interesting, lore wise

>replaces bolt with a device with a bolt of its own
>same rifle body
>smaller cartridge

>>34130991
Nicely done! Take her shooting yet?

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>>34136121
No and it's killing me. Hoping to go this weekend if it isn't raining. Honestly, I over paid by about $100 but I wanted it bad and I just happened to go to a gun shop in my friends state this weekend that had one. Feels great in the hand, and the DA/SA trigger is really nice. I like my Glock 17 but this beats it by a long shot.

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>>34136274
>if it isn't raining.

Shooting in the rain is the absolute shit. Plus you get to detail strip your gun to clean and become familiar with it. Don't know much about decocker CZs, but safety ones aren't bad at all to take apart.

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>>34136334
cant say much about rain shooting, but i like rain driving a lot...

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>>34136353
Rain makes everything better. Snow, even better.

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>>34136384
>tfw bought fwd

a-at least i have lift off oversteer

...right?

>>34136334
It's my first CZ, so that would be a good inclination to strip and learn about it. I think CZ is my new favorite brand.

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>>34136400
Nothing wrong with a fwd for a commuter.

I bought my first fwd car 2 years ago, it's been sitting for 18 months while I drive my rwd beater. I have learned my lesson. There are some things I cant compromise on.

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>>34136461
my income is... limited at best and expenses sorta have gone up

i've had to resort to looting an AC compressor from a crashed car to get one wwhen mine gave out a few days ago...

but i will get rwd one day...

>warframe general
Heh

>>34136501
I feel ya, my current car is beginning to die and I'm looking at picking up two junkers to make one car. I actually wrecked my compressor trying to charge it with propane, but I forgot to add a lubricant, worked for about 2 min before seizing. Oh well, AC is for bitches anyways.

Also, does anyone know where harpy guy went? He had a nice story intro, and never updated. Did he say he was on /d/, it's pretty much only porn there.

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>>34136556
well, it's summer now... but hey, i found the part

>>34136972
>Tfw no a/c
Maybe one of these days, when I unjew myself and buy a car that didnt come off of Craigslist.

So did you make the car reaction pictures you post, or did you find them. Because it seems like you have alot of them.

>>34128229
Hopefully Lilly won't go up in red flames

>>34130831
I like this premise. It's almost like Demolition Man, in the sense.

>>34130736
Not gonna hate. Gonna super hate this so hard!
(continue plz)

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>>34137298

>>34134185
>Civil war, but in the 1940s
As always, every time I read one of your fics, it is always very enjoyable. Very vivid and life-like.

Great to see you back, Realfag.

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>>34137298

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>>34137298

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>>34137298
i fucking love puns

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>>34138115

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>>34137683
>>34137877
>>34138052
Well I know what to do now once I get to writing again!

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>>34138308

>>34138455
what the fuck is that

>>34138455
This will make a fine addition to my collection.'
By the by, is Haruhi Suzumiya waifu material? Why or why not?

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>>34102341
just gonna leave this here

>>34133961
KEEP SHOOTIN' PUTIN!

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soon... ish

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>>34139731
Are you gunna write tanks?!

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These are you guns for tonight

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>>34131911
Thanks man. Glad you enjoyed it enough to read all of it!

>>34133578
>>34133848
Guess we will have to wait and see how it unfolds...

>>34142344
>That pic size
Forgot about that...

>>34142358
When do you think the next update to the story might be (roughly)

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What of the mystery pistols? I can't imagine life is easy, glamorous, hell, even fun for a pistol like those made in early twentieth century china. They came in all sorts of configurations, many made by competent machinists but imcompetent gunsmiths. Some were made with all the quality of a hi point mixed with a potato. In all cases however, the worst part of these little pistols amd their lives was the numbers. While some were ugly, some were pretty as a postcard, all were essentially limited production runs, made either in small batches or even just one offs, with never another example to be seen for the whole world.
Many of these pistols had geists, but due to laws governing ownership in china of things like guns, they were destroyed, hidden or smuggled out, forever lost to the ages or settled around like twigs im the sea. Today only few remain. So are precious, some are even great, some are even shit, but they're all rare, and most are one of a kind.

>>34143135
If his previous work is any answer, it is "soon".

>>34143423
Like KS with lolis?

>>34144096
KS?

>>34144096
interesting

>>34144200
i-never-knew-i-had-a-thing-for -people-with-physical-disabilities the game

>>34144200
kataway shoujo, a game made by the /a/utists about cripple waifus

>>34144096
>>34145167
>>34145942

Lilly a best.

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>>34145996
was that at any point ever even a question?

>>34143135
As >>34143715 has demonstrated, I've learned not to make any promises. My schedule can be a bit chaotic. I'm also playing around with the idea of writing another short before hopping into the next chapter. Time will tell.

I am known to not finish what I started.
I want to change that today.
Serial-anon, signing back on.

After what seemed to be a long endless walk that got you worried that the two of you are actually going in circles, you come across a break from the foliage and into a clearing at the base of a low hill. Human activity and the low hum of machinery filled the frigid morning air. A light fog softens out the structures in the area in the early morning light.

>"Well, see, got here before the sun even comes up.", the private jests.

>Good, this means the firebase ain't that busy yet. Some of the men are probably sleeping, and the guntrucks are probably undermanned right now.

Marv checks the rocket on the launcher, making sure that the cocking piece is pulled back, and that the safety cap is still on. Private Houser seems to get what he does, pulling out the magazine on his BAR to check the rounds in it before placing it back on the rifle.

>Well, I'm ready. Are you?
>"As always."

As they began to move up the low hill to mount their assault, the shrill wail of siren suddenly filled the air. The little firebase seemed to be in alert for something, men screaming about in a foreign language.

The symphony of gunfire began to play it's tune.

>>34146449
>"Someone else is attacking the base. Friendlies?"
Private Houser mutters.

>I don't really know, but enemy of my enemy and all, might as well come up to their aid.

Marv and the private slowly crept up the crest, the sputtering of firearms gradually going louder, along with the occasional punctuation of a grenade.

One of the guntrucks came into view, windows shuttered down with armor plates. It is under ineffective rifle fire, sparks flying off as bullets ricocheted off the front cab.

The rear gun began to move, whirring as it points itself up into the sky in a seemingly impossible 90-degree angle.

A desperate move, a bombardment of it's position.

The thunder of an outbound round resonated through the base.

Men of both sides stopped firing, lending silence to the disturbance.

A faint whistling manifested, growing louder every second.

Marv looked over at Private Houser, who did the same. Waiting...

All they got was a near-blinding flash, ears seemingly falling deaf. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. Bits of fabric and metal tubing flew though the air in a graceful dance, dust swirling over with the fog in what could be best described as a chocolate milkshake.

>Chocolate milkshake. Been a while that I haven't had one.

>>34146456
>"Marv..."

>"Marvin!"

>"Get up! Shit's real bad, rounds are landing left and right! We need to stop that truck!"
Houser shouts as he tugs on Marv's arm to pull him up from the ground.

Marv is slowly going back to regain his bearings, his hand moving over to grab the RPG's grip. He checks the cocking piece, bears it on his shoulder, then looking behind to make sure no one is behind it.

The sights lined up with the rear cab of the guntruck. He pulls on the trigger.

>*click*

>*BANG*

The launcher felt lighter as the PG-7 rocket launches out of the tube, hissing as it makes it's way to the target. It blew up as it hits it's mark.

A few moments later, the armored box heaved and sighed, a jet of flame erupted through the hole in which the rocket made through the armor. Parts began to buckle as even more flame vented through every crevice. The barrel began to emit smoke through the muzzle as if it were a smokestack.

What followed could be best described as an earth-shattering explosion. A section of metal plate flew over Marv and Houser's heads.

>"Now that's a near miss."

>>34146470
The duo came up the shallow ridge, walking ever cautiously toward the smoldering wreckage of the guntruck. Private Houser scanned around with his BAR, flipping bits of metal over with the muzzle of the rifle. They drew closer to the rear cab, from which a horrible, inexplicable stench emanated from it, causing Marv to retch in disgust.

>"That smell? Burnt hair. Don't ask me why I know about it."
Houser comments casually.

He's got a point. Some questions are best left unanswered.

A figure came around the wreckage, pointing what appears to be a rifle at them.

>"Drop your weapons! Hands where I could see them!"
The man spoke out with an intonation that Marv immediately notices.

>Saba diha, sig in-English, bisdak baya!(Shut up, [speaking] English when you're heavily Visayan!)
Marv speaks out in jest.

The man, in acknowledgement, lowers his rifle.

Marv extends his hand to his right as to signal private Houser.

>It's okay, he's on my side, lower your gun too."

The man raises his eyebrows in confusion.

>"Kinsa imong ka-istorya? Wa ma'y tao diha."(Who are you talking to? There's no one there."

Even more confused, Marv looks over to his shoulder to find that there is indeed no one there.

>Aha man to siya ni-adto?!(Where did he go?!)
Marv asks himself.

The man comes closer to Marv, placing a hand on his shoulder.
>"Ali diri, pila lang gani ka adlaw, nabu-ang na ka? Wala ni, weak."(Come here, after just a few days, you went mad? [This guy's nothing, so weak].)

He tells Marv to come along, in which he does, still confused as to where the Private Benjamin Houser went.

>>34146483
I just wanted to write something up after a long hiatus from writefagging, mostly due to lack of inspiration. I decided that writing things up as I go would be the best way of fending off the /r9k/-tier self-pity I am having.

I would probably be going back to the main Serial-one arc after this little experimental diversion. Do not expect too much.

Drop your comments and suggestions, I need it. Thanks, and have a nice day gents!

>>34143423
Fortunately they have Based Ian to collect them and take care of them.

>>34146526
good to see you back

>>34145996
That's an odd way to say Shizune.

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>>34146951

>>34146969
You cut me to the quick JT, I cannot go on!

>>34147344
...huh?

>>34147367
I was just poking fun because of the Lilly/Shizune teasing.

>>34147445
Ah, right.

Tbh, they were all good with the exception of shizune

>>34147626
>All but Shizune
D-delete this JT... ;_;

>>34146526
Great to see you return, and back to writing. Despite your long absence, your ability to write hasn't been dulled by time.

And hey, I understand the need to write something else outside of your main series. Doing that 1-off felt really nice on my end.

>>34147752
>he likes shizune

well, people have different tastes i guess. I mean, someone has to buy Peugeots

Our generation was seen as weak. We were a generation that by and large had never struggled. We never had to so much as snapping the neck of a chicken to put food on the table, death was rare, so it was thought that our emotional coping skills were insufficient for war. The only plus side to our generation in the eyes of the brass was our egarness to fight. Raised on games and stimulants of war we were eager to prove ourselves in battle.

The solution the DOD came up with was MEP, mental enhancement program. The system was a refinement of pharmacology and neurological implants. The drug distribution pump had nodes that ran from the heart to the brain its tiny microscopic carbon nanotube pipes running through the body like the strings of a spider web was an impressive feat of modern medicine. Next was the electrical stimulation and neural implant system. This system "stimulated" our brains, using tiny jolts of precisely measured electricity. The final part was a simple suite of expert system AI's that could adjust the drug mixtures and neural stimulation.

>>34148086
I was part of a group the first to receive the beta so to say. At this point I had been running in the succ in black ops all around the globe, I agreed to it as I figured this system. It worked well I was alert happy and ready to go day or night. Weeks without sleep meant nothing, killing meant nothing death meant nothing. It took me a while to catch on to the latter part, looking back I should have told them about that, the red flags were everywhere. The slight repetitive small muscle twitches in my legs, that sense of ease and happiness every time my rounds impacted my target. Luckily for me I finished up my contract before it really had time to sink its teeth into my brain and form its psychosis.

Sadly my and by extension my team mates failure to realize its side effects meant it was given the greenlight for mass production for general personnel. The proclamations from brass were printed in all the periodicals, hailing the end of ptsd, the end of chronic pain. How naive we were little did we know what long term use under combat stress did to the mind.

When the big war began every soldier was given one. At first the reports were stellar,

One report talked of a boy who ran 5 miles 42 min with a full load, another battalion had fought for one month with no cases of ptsd.

Although after 4 months cracks started showing, rumors swirled of soldiers engaging in extreme masochistic behavior cutting or burning themselves to get a rush of drugs and that jolt of electricity to pats of the brain that released dopamine. Later rumors swirled of extreme acts of violence against wounded soldiers and non combatants, apparently the system didn't differentiate between acts of aggression initiated by the user or acts started by the enemy, anything that could be regarded as traumatic resulted in a release of drugs and more neural stimulation.

>>34148105
It wasn't an issue when the war was on so what if there were a few more war crimes, or a few more self mutilating psychos. The real issue came when the guns should have gone silent, after a full nuclear exchange peace should have ensued on the front line. The orders came from the top telling the men to stop. Those words were ignored, sure the supplies were cut but then the men merely resorted to raiding. They were consumed by the insanity of the device installed in their brains. In a war that saw the first recorded instance of space combat the first orbital drop of soldiers, the first deployment of AIs and large scale exchange of nukes, nothing proved more horrifying than the men created by the war.

Years of mass slaughter, chems, and neural stimulation had burned out whatever sense of humanity they had and left them with a desire to kill and feel pain. They stalk the wastes killing anyone who is not them on sight. They hack away at their bodies replacing the lost limbs with prosthetics of varying sophistication and design. Their faces covered in scars, their vocal cords strained from screams of savagery and brutality. Although it has been said that if the encounter a person who puts up a good enough fight they drag them back to be integrated into their insane society.

>>34148250
Now I must say as there seems to be the belief that every one with one of these installed is like these beasts who roam the wastes. There is a simple way to tell if someone is one of them or not, have they shot stabbed, or otherwise tried to murder you on sight. Another easy way is how severe the twitching is. Most of these people suffer from constant spasams of the hand and a strange neck roll / twist that seems to involve standing on the balls of their feet and stretch their back out. Its a near universal so if you see a man doing that from a distance avoid at all costs.

>>34147933
I don't get the joke/reference friend

>>34148717
peugeot only make bad cars

>>34145942
I think there's a name for that... an effect where people develop affections for people they take care of.

>>34148729
Ah, should have known it would be a car thing. Clever JT xD

>>34148838
The MC is a cripple too, but his disability is a heart condition, not something immediately visible.

What's dumb is the "word of god" on what happens to MC if he romances each girl, the Shitzune writers in particular seemed to completely forget his condition, and the bladerunner loli writers seemed to forget that exercise was literally "doctor's orders" for his condition, and so in one of the three routes that really should have ended in MC having a reduced span and quality of life, 'word of god' is that he dealt with his condition optimally, and in the route where MC should have had the longest span and greatest quality of life, word of god is that he died of carelessness in his 30s.

Lilly and Rin were also basically death sentences for a dude with his condition, though Lilly was an ultra-comfy route, and Rin was very well written as well.

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>>34148898
The thing I'm referring to is called the Florence Nightingale effect. anyway, I don't understand the story other than "Heart condition man would rather die young than be lonely." And I probably won't pursue further understanding, though it IS an interesting thing for the sake of discussion.

>>34149035
Hey man tachiacardia is serious shit i cant wait till heart failure at 35 .

>>34148898
i'm much happier with living happily for the time i have left, be that an hour or fifteen years than live until 80 and not really... live?

>>34149219
Live it up and drink 151 or cheap grain alcohol.. i do have to recomend true absinthe. Shit is cash as fuck.

Ok. I've got good, meh, and bad news. Bad news first because we all know it goes down like that.

Duchess is back in the hospital after a discovered complication from her liver after cholecystectomy. The liver doesn't seem to be infected or inflamed, but it's definitely fucking with her ability to hold down anything other than fluids and MAYBE a bite of plain bread. No test results prove or indicate anything simple. And the hospital can't seem to do anything remotely close to "on time". Assholes.

My own recovery is looking up. Food is easy to take down, physical activity doesn't make me want to pass out, and I was given an opportunity for a part time position, provided I can stand and converse and walk around unhindered for 5 hours at a stretch. The doc has yet to clear me for that, but the timing looks good.

My EMT certification application appeal (if you need clarification, I can provide, because it's a fucked up process to begin with) finally came through. Unfortunately, it was passed through the mail, and I didn't get it until a week and a half AFTER I was released from the hospital, because that's when I first got home to check the mail. I have approximately one month to study my ass off and take the exam. I effectively have only one shot (MAYBE two) at this before I need to take the course again, and possibly wait another 6 months after taking another 6 month course before I can take the fucking exam. Again.

So...I do apologize for not writing more.

Froganon, if you're lurking, I'm working my way through it. I'm also explaining WHY I chose to write what I did for each comment.

Poly, quit fighting it and kiss nursie.

JT, fight tooth and nail. You're too valuable to us.

Construct, I understand your plight. Keep plugging away. We got your back.

RFL, Guard, RealFag, FAL, notanotherwritefag, and the rest....DON'T LET THE DREAM DIE, YOU BASTARDS. COME BACK TO US!

>the preceding has been a PSA concerning your neighborhood editfag and douchenozzle, DUKE.

>>34149316
Godspeed...

>>34149316
Good luck my man.

>>34149316
hoping for the best man

>quit figthing
why would i figth her man? i greet her like that any time i have a chance

>>34149316
>RFL, Guard, RealFag, FAL, notanotherwritefag, and the rest....DON'T LET THE DREAM DIE, YOU BASTARDS. COME BACK TO US!

But im here, what are you on about? Im always lurking

>>34146951

You mean Shitzune?

I know her.

>>34148838

Nightingale Syndrome. It's like Stockholm Syndrome in reverse.

>>34149517
Probably about posting more art or stories that tug the heartstrings.

>>34149633
I thought that was Lima syndrome. but yeah. Let me take care of you! I love you!
*Recovery occurs and person needing care reclaims their independence and their dignity*
I HATE YOU!

Basic premise... well, the affections MAY go away when the needs do, it may not as well. so it may actually be more like *recovery occurs* I LOVE YOU, REMEMBER THAT TIME YOU NEEDED ME?

>>34149680

It's more along the lines of "familiarity breeds understanding, understanding breeds compassion" the syndrome is named after a nurse with the last name Nightingale who was a nurse at a field hospital. I believe this was during the US Civil War, but the point of the story is that one of her patients who was under her care for an extended amount of time formed a very strong bond with her and they ended up married.

It really is just an affection born from seeing someone at their most vulnerable and from being near someone for whom you must care; over time the reasons that you care for them may change.

>>34149735
this is a thing...

>>34149755
Yep same reason why if someone holds you captive long enough you form strange ass relationships..

>>34149755

I can't tell the tone that you're going for here.

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>>34149639
i suppose

>>34149786

That's Stockholm Syndrome.

>>34149788
know it. First hand. Twice

>>34149786
Norrmalmstorg, 1973

>>34149811

Sounds rough.

>>34149735
but... Florence Nightingale never married. At least from what I can tell. Then again, I'll have to look up better sources than wiki, but it's always a half way not too terrible starting point for a brief overview.

>>34150096

It's also fully possible that I got that detail wrong.

>>34149832
as long as it works it's fine. Something takes the other one away though, that's bad

>>34150167
I'm just gonna go with wikishit's explanation that it was coined by a dude in 1982 to describe nurses "Seeking intangible rewards in their work."

Anyone else who can't wait for F-14 in DCS world?
https://youtu.be/4ORsKc-ce6I Just thought I'd bump with some soothing music. Next time I post I'll actually contribute.

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Some odd greentext right here

>>34153373
old*

>>34134185
Only critique is you need to post more often

Gimmie an hour or two an I'll have an update for you

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>>34154659
Looks like I'm not going to bed just yet.

It’s still in the middle of the night when a heavy leather boot hits your shoulder a few times.

¤ Come
“What time is it…?”
¤ Half 3. Come, now
“Natal-”
¤ Quit bitching, right now. Come and listen

Natalya bends her legs and forcefully pulls out of the bed by your arm

“Fuck off Natalya i went to bed like two hours ago”

A kick hits you in your ribcage. Light enough not to hurt you properly, but hard enough to show you she was serious

¤ Right. Fucking. Now

You groan a little more than necessary, drag a pair of pants, wear the blanket as a cape and follow Natalya. In the freezing cold attic of the house she had set up a little radio kit, with an antenna probably on the roof

She sits down on the ancient floorboards next to a set of high quality headphones and gestures you to pick them up

The radio channel Natalya has found has a 5 or so minute long message being played on repeat

“Shit”
¤ Yes, it’s pretty bad
“Fuck. Uhm, you got a smoke to spare?”
¤ Mhm

The two of you spent some time just staring into the little radio, smoking some early morning moments away. There wasn’t much to be said or done. Of course, no one could be 100% certain of any info at this early stage. But if new like this hit was broadcasted in radio frequencies theoretically accessible by civilians, it was probably true, confirmed, checked and double checked

¤ What pisses me off…

Natalya had put her hands to the cold floor, the last little bit of the cigarette between her second and third finger. She has to take another few breaths before she can try again

¤ What pisses me off…

Her voice was trailing off at the end.

For some reason you remember an old black and white film recording from american planes from the second world war. One in particular, a B-17 that had been hit by… something. The top of the planes was covered in blood from the Flight engineer when his turret was shot. One engine was completely stopped and was spewing out black smoke. The side of the plane was covered in holes. The stabilized had a large chunk on the top missing. The men inside were probably scared. Would the plane come home to England again? Would they live until sundown? It was as if the plane wanted them to come home. As if it was fueled by spite as much as avgas

Was that what you felt about Natalya now? A relic from a time long past, taking her last, dying breaths before plummeting towards the earth?

But just as the B-17 screaming out its hatred for the whole world on it’s way down, all while making sure it didn’t have a single round of ammunition when it was reunited with the cold, hard ground, Natalya had probably no intentions of giving up.

She looked miserable. Her eyes were cold and dull, hair was messy and her face wore an expression of exhaustion.

There wasn’t much else to do but go back to bed. Natalya stumbled more than she walked but managed to get to her bed. You were only half dressed to begin with and hit the sack soon afterwards

“Do we tell the others?”
¤ We’re gonna get briefed tomorrow anyway. Helen will have some half sketchy information, and either look like an idiot because it’s only vague info, or look weak because she has to ask me for help

¤ How would it change things? We’re still fighting full time, and we will until the Army’s new steel tanks come fighting in numbers. Actually… some things might happen. Let me sleep on it
“They are already in production, anyway”
¤ I’ve seen this pattern before. Out of the production line, and drive straight into a battle
“You’ve seen it? Did you-”
¤ Yes. But not in Europe. Had my run in Manchuria. Not any real fighting. Not just peaceful either, though

She sighs heavily

“Don’t have to go there if you don’t want to”
¤ Just be happy you don’t see war between people. Much nicer to fight along each other

Your thought went to Lily, again.

“Yeah…”
¤ Don’t give up on things yet
“What?”
¤ Good night

And so it was all silent. Natalya left her bed sometime later to do something else but you valued the little sleep you got

A few hour later you stood in a crowd of people shivering in the cold and waiting for Helen to read the paper she held

‘Ladies and gentlemen’ She began, not a hint of trembling in her voice, despite the heavy topic that she had to inform on

‘I have good news, if you’ve bought if you shares in companies producing ammunition. There are more coming. More of them. But-’

And then she goes on about fighting spirit and protecting our planet. Her speech was inspiring, and there was some cheering from people, but there was something missing, Which was confirmed by Miranda. She came walking over in a comically oversized dune jacket a few minutes later. Her face was barely visible under the fur lining the hood. Only her small figure and the fact she took her glasses of every two minutes because they fogged up revealed who she actually was

+ Natalya?
¤ Yes?
+ Do you know when they are going to land? Or where?
¤ A few weeks from now i’d assume. As far as location goes, don’t know exactly. I have written a guess down in my book. I’ll show you if it turns out to be correct

Unbeknownst to both, they were on very different places. Miranda would have been happy with answers like “the southern hemisphere”, “the ocean” or “far away from here”. Natalya’s guess was far more precise. Through sitting up with her radio all night, and decoding what she could with pen, paper and a laptop, she could find suggestions of a “estimated landing area” of just over half a million square miles.

By reading, guessing, learning from previous mistakes and estimating, she could place their landing in a circle of about 3 square mile area. She would of course never tell anyone about that until it was confirmed. Natalya didn’t like being wrong almost as much as she liked being right. But only almost

She has more pressing issues to attend to at the moment. Namely, her tank falling to pieces. The engine was the same that was fitted since 1945, a 38.8 liter V12 unit confusingly named “Kharkiv V-2”. It made 600 horsepower in 1945, but had since been thoroughly modified to raise that number just into four digits. But raising the power of an engine very seldom helped with reliability. The engine had been rebuilt twice since, and was now very much singing on its last verse. It had started drinking uncomfortably much motor oil. Natalya couldn’t feel or control her tank the same way Lily could, but she could feel how this engine was on its last dying breath. She felt a deep rumbling feeling from the bottom of her gut how the poor thing didn’t want to run at all, much less propel a 50 ton heavy tank.

But sooner or later it was going to give out. Of course, an engine could be replaced. It would take a lot of time and work, but it could be done. The cracks that had started forming in the back of the fighting compartment, on the other hand was a problem. A large one had its base in the bottom right corner of the firewall separating the fighting and engine compartment, by the 5th road wheel, and running forwards a full two feet forwards

If more welds give out, the tank is a write off

Natalya of course did what she could, welding triangle shaped wedges to the inner hull to try and keep it together. But this wasn’t really something that could be fixed, it was about buying time. And she would do that as much as possible. Until the day the mighty IS-3 finally gave up, she would keep buying time


Very far away, at about the same time, Lily was downing another cup of coffee. She was not particularly picky before but the luxury she could get now was really starting to get to her. The coffee’s she were drinking were small, trendy things that would look more fitting on the table of an italian café than in the hands of a fighter. Her clothes were properly washed and ironed at all times, bedsheets washed for every night and she ate three properly cooked meals a day. Such was the power that came with just her name, and a little practical demonstration.

All this had happened in the last month. Irma, the caretaker of the Elefant had had a long talk with her. Lily had been fed… old ideas and promises of greatness. They both ended up in the place where the Maus was being finalized, a factory complex that had been repurposed as a workshop. Since the Jagdtiger was already running, It didn’t get much attention from the staff there, but just a new coat of paint, making it look very much like it did in about this time of year in 1945 and new mudguards

Most of the workers were volunteers, which was interesting considering the Maus restauration, which now had the Elefant dragging along aswell was made by a private company that mostly got their money from donation and monetization money from making videos and filming the whole process. Turns out a certain interest in old tanks had spiked in the last year because of what the could do against this adversary. She could hand pick a new crew. They were not especially well trained, but extremely dedicated.

During peacetime, several questions about political affiliations would have been raised in the case of this company. But in times as unstable as these, most were just happy some extra machines fought off the invaders

‘Miss Nibelung, do-’

Lily knew exactly where this discussion would go

>Are you going to ask me if i need anything again?
‘I only want to make sure-’
>Cut it. I’m not a child, if i need anything i’ll get it myself
‘We only want to-’
>Guarantee my satisfaction, yeah, i get it. I can take care of myself. How is the machine doing
‘It has been serviced. New engine oil, coolant and transmission fluid. It has also been washed externally. There was however a bag in the fighting compartment which has been removed’
>Wait, a bag?
‘Yes, by the commander's position’
>And you got it out?!
‘Y-yes miss Nibelung, it is highly inadvisable to have loose items in the fight-’
>Shush!!

Lily’s voice was cold, piercing and authoritative

>Do not ever again tell me how to use my Jagdpanzer. What to have in it, what to shoot, where to drive. Understood?
‘Y-yes’
>Good. Now leave before you upset me further

The man was about to reply again, but the face Lily was making made it very obvious she didn’t want to hear it anymore. The man left immediately. He knew what happened the last time Lily got angry. Then again, he only knew her as “Miss Nibelung”. No one here had even heard Larissa, or her pet name, Lily. Irma had convinced her to use something something she mostly had written down in a paper half a year ago to have a middle name. Erika. Like the girl from the song. And now that was the only thing Irma, or anyone else called her.

That was her fifth name. First, a name given to her by her parents. She gave it up on her fifteenth birthday, when her training began. Then she got a designation. Twelve digits. Her year of birth, month, date and four personal digits. Her peers were not allowed to call her anything else but the last three of these digits. 024. It was intentionally made to be impersonal. To not get attached to anyone. To make sure you see them as competitors, and not friends. Friendship was something formed on the battlefield anyway. It took years of struggle and studies. She fought her way to the top. Many of her… competitors didn’t make it. Lost in exercises. Accidents. Some fell down stairs, some slipped in the showers. The woman that was later going to be called Lily learned the game. She fought dirty. Learned who to trust when. Learned to find people's weaknesses, and how to exploit them.

024 grew into a truly terrifying woman. She obeyed the rules in the smallest, pettiest detail when that benefited her, and broke them like no tomorrow when she needed. Everything was calculated. Risk versus reward. And she played her cards very well. So well, she ended up among the top 100 in the entire Reich. Enough to get her hands on a Jagdtiger.

When the ceremony, and the binding with the machine was complete, she got a new name. Or a new number, rather. 186-331. 186 being the designation for the Jagdtiger and 331. And 186-331 was to become truly terrifying by the 128mm gun. Her record was much above average. She kept crew morale high, but most importantly, Jagdtiger 331 never seemed to break down. The transmission kept working, so did the final drive, and so did the engine. Jagdtiger 331 was often the only operational vehicle of the Schwerer Panzerjäger Abteilung 653

Lily’s bond with the vehicle was not the strongest right away, but it was as if she understood it. If it felt pain, Lily helped it. She took the pain away from it, and took it herself instead. Many could do a little of what she could, but no where near as much. She smoothed out the gear changes, the clutch, final drive, everything.

It would drive her slowly insane, resulting with… the events by a small french village in late winter in 1945

Lily shuddered. These people had no idea. They didn’t know anything, she thought as she finally got hold of the black rucksack found in the fighting compartment. Your rucksack

Of course, you barely remembered you had lost it. If it contained anything important. It wasn’t your phone, computer, wallet or gun. Those were the important things. Other things could be replaced. You didn’t think much of it at all. you would probably never think of that black rucksack again, unless someone asked

But to someone else, many miles away, they had more weight. It wasn’t much in the bag. Two half liter bottles of water, some canned food, including peaches in syrup. A few shell casings from the defence of the depot. Some first aid, and… a spare T-shirt.

This T-shirt… that first day.

The woman now called Erika clutched the piece of cloth in her hand. Anger was boiling up in her. Not regret. She didn’t do regret, it was pointless. But anger, she was very good at. Especially controlling that anger into a calm and controlled fury. Lily could let her emotions be an advantage in battle. It was difficult to get that far, but with experience it was possible

And right now, she was looking for an excuse to start a fight. Anything would do. But then everything she had done this last month would be a waste.