#like at least a field would have dirt and grass and sticks 2 throw at eachother

[instantarmageddon]

Just remembered that for a good few years in upper elementary we didn't have a playground so they would send us out to play in the big empty parking lot behind the school and when highschool kids would drive over for sports practice they would actively try to hit us with their cars and we would get in trouble for almost being vehicularly manslaughtered because the parking lot is for cars and we're just guests

[erensnubs]

𝑳𝒂𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑱𝒐

Hanamaki Takihiro x GN! Reader

Based off of the Laurie and Jo Scene in Little Women

Summary: Sometimes first loves never work out

Content: Angst, pure angst

From pirate ships, to being monarchs and warriors of old, you and Hanamaki Takahiro, were best friends.

He was the little boy who moved in next door, snot running down his nose, hands stained with dirt as he offered you a piece offering of roly polies and leaves.

You were the little kid who rolled around in the mud and terrorized the other kids by throwing sticks at them.

Needless to say you immediately became best friends. And menaces to your parents, the neighborhood kids and society in general.

You were together from the young ages of kindergarten, you were there to witness Hanamaki's awkward stage of puberty. You were there to witness him making other friends than you and lovers.

He was there when he saw you make other friends than him, dating a lot of people. He was there when you were scared of going to middle school, was there when you had anxiety over grades.

You were there for each other all the time, ups and downs, triumphs and trials.

So it was natural, that Hanamaki fell, completely and hopelessly;

In love with you.

You're running in the grass, rolling around with Hanamaki laughing your asses off. You guys have just graduated highschool and the two of you, being the dumb bitches you are decide to skip the family party to celebrate your accomplishments. 

“We’re adults now!” You yell, half skipping down the hill and eventually trip. 

You pick yourself up and start screaming. 

“I’M FREE FROM THIS GOD FORSAKEN TOWN! WE’RE FREE!” 

Hanamaki laughs, “Yeah says the one who barely passed history.” 

He grabs you by the arm and drags you through the flowers of the field and sets you down, all the while you giggle deliriously. 

Usually Hanamaki would be laughing along, making stupid jokes about your laugh. 

But he doesn’t. 

And it scares you. 

Before you even open your mouth to say anything, Hanamaki plops down beside you and thoughtfully asks, 

“What are we going to do, [Name]? After here?” 

The question sounded serious not like those ones where he asked you if he looked sexy for prom or if his crocs match the vibe of the weather that day. 

You paused to take in the question. 

“Well... I can’t really answer that Hiro Out of our whole friend group we’ve always been the floaters. The ones that never really know what we’re doing...” 

Hanamaki turns his head around, baby hairs sticking onto his skin from the sweat of running. His eyes are looking at you, no they’re looking through you. 

He breathes out a yes, like he’s been holding something from you. A secret he didn’t want to tell. 

You turn away abruptly hoping he doesn’t see your slight change of attitude. 

“Iwaizumi’s going to America, Mattsun is getting ready for college, and you know Oikawa is going over to Brazil to pursue volleyball.” 

“I honestly don’t know Hiro. I get that we can’t be kids who run around more and throw dirt at each other,” you say laughing softly. 

Hanamaki scoffs, “But you wish it was like that huh?” 

You sit up and pick the grass from the ground and throw it randomly into the air. 

“Of course! I still want to get a pirate ship and go and travel the world with you.” 

Hanamaki raises his eyebrows, “And steal gold from random people?” 

You smile cheekily, “Of course. Then we’ll build our chocolate empire, something that could rival Willy Wonka’s.” 

Hanamaki stands up and puts his hand out to you. 

You grab it, but why do you feel like the gesture is something much more than a friendly hand? 

The two of you start walking, swinging your arms around as you joke about your chocolate factory, your pirate ships, the adventures you’re going to have. 

The sun was setting, the long, green blades of grass turning yellow as you and Hanamaki run through them, creating scars and bumps on your skin. 

You were going to miss highschool. You were going to miss groaning about exams and certain substitute teachers. Miss skipping classes with Mattsun and Makki to go get wasted with cheap alcohol. 

You were going to miss Oikawa and his stupid smile and Iwaizumi and his stupid nicknames. You were going to miss crying with the 3rd years over lost volleyball games. 

Hell, you were probably going to cry when Oikawa and Iwaizumi left to continue their lives. You might even cry when Mattsun goes to college even if he isn’t going overseas. 

But at least you had Hanamaki. Your dearest friend. Though your relationship has gotten deeper and you were able to confide with each other, you were still the 2 children that fought other kids on the playground. 

You could always, always rely on him. Because you never changed with each other. 

“[Name]?” 

You turn around and see Hanamaki. His eyes glowed with something. 

And it was not of the setting sun. 

“Yes?” You say, the sky turning darker as moments pass. 

“I know we talk about us being adventurous and going with the flow... but I feel like we could do something more, you know?” he says it quietly, his thumb subconsciously rubbing yours. 

You look up at him, “What do you mean? You just want to suddenly work a 9-5 job in a corporate company? We talked about this Hiro...” 

He looks taken aback, “No no, that’s not what I meant [Name].”

Hanamaki gets quieter, “We could always be little kids, playing with swords and sticks. Together.” 

You pause as Hanamaki looks up at your eyes. Together? You’ve always been together? Always. 

Wait. 

He couldn’t possibly mean. 

You pull back from his grasp, 

“No Hiro I can’t do that. Please no.” 

You start walking away from him and he advances as he argues, trying to salvage something. 

“[Name], no I love you and I have always loved you since we were little! I can’t imagine myself being with anyone else besides you!” 

You walk faster and wrap your arms around yourself, “No, no, no. Hiro you’re being ridiculous.” 

“Yes, YES!” 

“No! We can’t!” 

“[NAME]! COME BACK HERE LET ME SEE YOU!” Hanamaki says running towards you. 

You spin around and stare at him, “We can’t work Hiro! I could never love you that way, and I would be lying, God I would be lying if I said that I did. Our whole life together we’re going to be pretending.” 

He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration, “Why?! We were just talking about doing adventures together! Why is that any different than what I proposed!?” 

You stomp your foot onto the ground, “Did you not just listen to me you dipshit? I could never love you romantically! Ever! I care for you, I worry for you but Hanamaki you are my friend. My closest friend. You are the one thing in my life that hasn’t changed so quickly and then you pull this shit?” 

Hanamaki starts yelling now, “BUT I MAKE YOU HAPPY! AND YOU MAKE ME HAPPY! WE HAVE BEEN TOGETHER SIDE BY SIDE, FOR YEARS [NAME]! YEARS! I HAVE DONE EVERYTHING I COULD HAVE TO TELL YOU I LOVE YOU!” 

You start shaking your head, “No, don’t say that.”

Hanamaki starts rambling, “You always tell me that words and actions are your love languages- 

“Stop.” 

“And I’ve been doing it, [Name]. I have. I have been there for you, anywhere and-and-”

“Takihiro stop.” 

“And I can’t feel like this anymore. I can’t let you slip through my fingers and watch you run away from me like everyone else has-”

“TAKIHIRO STOP IT!” 

The only things that you could hear were the sounds of your breathing and the crickets in the grass. 

“Takihiro, you’re being a child. You’re being stupid and ridiculous. Do not let the fantasies of a boy ruin your future,” you say sternly, begging for your tears to not fall onto the ground. 

“You say that, [Name], and then run from everything that requires commitment,” he says sharply. 

“You’re a coward, [Name]. You’re hurting me.” 

Hanamaki is stepped away from you know and he starts walking away. 

“My life has no meaning anymore-”

You scoff, “Takihiro your love for me isn’t worth your life!” 

Hanamaki walks away and his voice is racked with sobs. Oh god he seriously does love you. 

Why? 

“Takihiro come back here!” 

You’re running towards him now, grabbing his arm but he pushes away. 

“Takihiro think with your brain! Just because we can’t be together the way you want doesn’t mean we have to sever all ties!” You say breathlessly. 

“I mean think about it, we could have never worked. You hate the fact I don’t eat your favorite ice cream, you constantly like to go out and I like staying home.” 

“I don’t care-” 

“I hate meeting your other family members because they look down on me, my family members have always been skeptical of you-” 

“I don’t care about that-” 

“And we would be miserable, Takihiro. Absolutely miserable with one another-” 

“No we wouldn’t,” he says stopping and grabbing your arm. Your noses were touching as his thin lips tried to connect with yours.

You pull away. 

“Admit it Makki. We are better off as friends, not lovers,” you say finally. 

“I’m ugly and I don’t care about my appearance like your other lovers do. I’m brutally honest with you and sometimes you cry about my opinion and-” 

“I love you [Name].” 

“I’m lazy and have no real goal in life, I have no foundation no, no rock or something. I don’t have a drive, Hiro! You’re going to be stuck with someone who doesn’t care.” 

“I love you.” 

“And you’re going to find someone else, a nice person, who likes eating your ice cream and dresses up. Who has a clear goal in life and someone your family will love-” 

“No one could ever replace you, [Name]-” 

You throw your hands up in frustration, “You’re mixing platonic and romantic feelings together and turning it into some big thing!” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Yes you are.” 

Silence surpasses you again and Hanamaki starts walking away. 

You spoke up, “But-” 

He turns around again and looks at you with hope. Hope for something more. 

“That I don’t think I’ll ever be with someone romantically, Makki. I’ve gone years without.” 

Hanamaki scoffs and starts to laugh cruelly, 

“I don’t believe that, [Name]. You’re going to find someone, and you’re going to fall hard.” 

You sneer, “How do you know?” 

“I just do, you’re impossible to not fall in love with. You’re the sunshine in my life.” 

“Takihiro don’t say that, please.” 

He looks back at you, “But you are! You are my world, my-” 

“LEAVE ME! OH MY GOD LEAVE ME!” You yell at him and turn away. 

This was the 1st time Hanamaki hears you with that voice. 

"[Name]-"

"JUST GO PLEASE-"

"YOU WILL FALL IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE [NAME]!” 

You spit out your words, “OH REALLY YOU THINK I WILL? ME? THE PERSON WHO TURNED YOU DOWN?!” 

“YES! YES [NAME],” Hanamaki says. 

“You’re going to fall in love with someone and you’re perfect, care free life will turn upside down and they’re going to love you. And you’re going to be perfect with each other-” 

“HANAMAKI-” 

“And I will watch. I will watch you grow and love this person. I will watch it happen because I still love you and I don’t think I’ll love anyone else.” 

“And I will watch you, I will watch you [Name], and- and,” 

You couldn’t bear to see his tears fall from his eyes, so you turn away. 

“I will imagine that it could have been me and you-”

“Hanamaki please-” 

“I don’t know what to do with myself but I will still take care of you and I truly love you, forever and-” 

“Hanamaki-” 

“I won’t ever stop, [Name]. Ever,” he says softly as he tries to reach out for your hand. 

You pull away, your voice breaking. 

“Hanamaki, go. I don’t want to see you right now,” you say softly. 

You don’t have to turn around to see him crumble. You can feel it. 

Because your heart was crumbling too. 

“I’ll go... get back safe, [Name],” he adds. 

You don’t say anything back, and hear the slow movements in the grass as your best friend walked away from you. 

Forever. 

The sky is dark, the stars seemed ashamed at your argument, and they don’t shine like they used to from years before. 

You stayed in the grass, silent tears on your face as you shielded yourself from the cold with your arms. 

You wanted to go home, but home wasn’t a place

It was a person. And his name was Hanamaki Takihiro. 

But home loved you, and you didn’t love it back the way they wanted. 

More tears flowed from your eyes at the sudden thought emerged from your eyes. 

You had no home anymore. 

AN: Another random little oneshot I did for my boy Hanamaki! Please comment your thoughts or reblog and like! I need constructive critiscm loves so I know what I can write and appeal to! 

Taglist: @saladskittles​

[wilhelmjfink]

Daryl Dixon Drabble #6 - pt 2

Sorry I can’t “read more” on my phone and it’s long! Will these two make up? Daryl, an emotional tightass? Prob not. We’ll see.

—

You’d never minded confrontation before. You couldn’t afford to fear it, really, with how frequently you’d opened your mouth and manage to say all the wrong things — case and point — and almost always found yourself too stubborn to apologize and instead would escalate the situation until you and whomever you’d been arguing with were toe to toe in a shouting match, only to be broken up by a third party usually before it got physical. Usually.

But then, you’d only ever been the one to throw the first punch. This whole scenario was new — being on the receiving end of someone’s anger and escalating them until they snapped first. You’d always known to simply hit back, right? What did that mean for you then and there, still laying on the cold grass perched up on your elbows, watching as Daryl disappeared into the night?

You were shaking — you usually did when things got heated. Didn’t particularly matter who it was with, either, but this time felt different. It felt wrong.

Pulling yourself to your feet you brushed the dirt off of your jeans, wiping your sweaty palms against the fabric on your thighs, and gently prodded at the newly tender spot around your tailbone that was sure to bruise. Not horribly, but enough to remind you about this night for at least the coming week.

Daryl had disappeared completely. All you could hear was the crackling of the fire and some spring peepers in the distance; formerly a peaceful and reassuring sound. Not now, though — not as long as you stood there stupidly staring into the distance, fighting the anxiety that was filling your chest. Where had he gone? The moon was high in the sky, a glowing silver crescent that gave you little natural light, but you knew Daryl didn’t really even need it. He would navigate the terrain with skill and precision as if he’d lived his whole entire life on this god damn farm.

Your machete was strapped to your thigh in its rightful spot, as it always was, and it would be better to keep quiet anyway. Certainly your shouting had alerted your presence to any walker on the property, and even with the wine still in your blood and the adrenaline that was still threatening to kill your buzz, you were on high alert as you jogged to the tree line with a newly found sense of determination. Hopefully the makeshift fencing along the outskirts of the property served its purpose in keeping any stragglers out.

In the darkness you’d have to rely on your ears and go with your gut feelings, and then simply hope that would be enough. You’d found yourself in similar situations before — even recently, searching for the little girl sun up to sun down, but at least you’d had Daryl to follow then. The first stretch of woods wasn’t as deep as it was narrow, so hopefully you would be able to sneak through it and come out on the field without issue. Outside of that we’re the traps and electrical fence that lined the perimeter of the farm, and Daryl wasn’t stupid enough to venture further than that.

The foliage was high this time of year, thick with green leaves and fallen sticks that crunched beneath your feet. As far as you could tell with each step that lead you further and further into the woods, you were unsettlingly alone in the thick darkness, which was somehow both a comfort and a concern that threatened to nag you until you either found Daryl or hung around long enough to see the sun begin to rise. You had no idea how long either option would take, so you pressed on with a hope that maybe your eyes would adjust better and you’d maybe even be able to impress Daryl with your nocturnal tracking skills... if you could find him.

Even in the near-pitch-black of night you could feel your head swimming slightly, the lingering effects of alcohol disorienting you, threatening to dull your senses even more. As the adrenaline wore off, the more your buzz returned. If you could see, your world would certainly be teetering slightly beneath your feet, rocking you like a rowboat.

It was eerily silent, the fire now a faded ball of flickering light in the far distance and the peepers and crickets having silenced their chirping upon your presence. Of course, Daryl was so skilled that he strode through the brush with a hunters tread so silent that not even the insects beneath his boots had noticed him. He would have that advantage on you, surely, but even if he heard you coming, you knew that he was far too adept to mistake you for a walker and shoot you.

Although, you thought to yourself, that didn’t necessarily mean that he wouldn’t try to hurt you, did it?

The idea of Daryl laying his hands on you in that way had never once crossed your mind — admittedly, it had under vastly different circumstances — but to give as far as shove you was something you’d never even considered. He’d only ever touched you with a harsh grip when he threw you behind himself protectively in the face of danger, or when he cleaned and dressed a wound you’d sustained with lingering fear and adrenaline in his system. It was only ever with good intentions; his ferocity contradicting the way his touch was surpringly gentle and warm. It wasn’t like that this time. And it was that realization that had you stopping in your tracks and trying to withstand the sheer force that the sudden guilt hit you with.

You had crossed a line. Fuck that — you had gotten a running start and leapt over that line like it was the long jump test in high school gym class. The worst part? You’d known that was a low blow. In your head, you’d briefly acknowledged that your words were going to hurt him in some way and you’d spat them out anyway. Just like you always did, and undoubtedly would continue to do as long as walked the earth, you’d said just the right wrong thing and driven the other person to crack. And, yeah — you’d both been drinking and both had loose tongues to begin with, but it was irrefutable that you’d gone too far this time if his initial response was to physically shove you away from him.

Exhaling a a long breath and trying to steady yourself you needed to gather your bearings before pressing on. The quick snapping of a twig somewhere nearby had you planting your boot back down firmly onto the ground, and your hand instinctively going to the handle of your machete. You listened intently, holding your breath, eyes striving to see in the darkness around you for any sign of movement, but everything even felt still. Dark, silent, and still.

You swallowed hard. “Daryl?” There was absolutely no way he could’ve heard you squeak his name out — you hardly heard it yourself. You cleared your throat and opened your mouth to try again just as you were thrown off your feet and down to the ground on your hands and knees, a heavy mass pinning you down from behind.

Now, with your adrenaline once again soaring and your senses heightened in panic, you could hear the low growling of the walker on your back. You thrashed beneath it and briefly wondered if you were thrown into water with how heavy your limbs felt and how muffled it’s groaning sounded despite being so close to your ears. While you summoned all your strength to hoist yourself back upright, straightening your arms in an attempt to shake him off like a bucking bronco would a cowboy, it occurred to you that you’d dropped your machete in the fall.

At least now you’d managed to get onto your knees instead of sprawled face down helplessly in the dirt, but the walker was relentless, it’s bony fingers already intertwined into your ponytail and yanking painfully as it tried to right itself. It’s jaw snapped hungrily, what remained of its rotted teeth clicking against eachother as it tried once again to throw its body weight at you.

You’d manage to spin around just as it tumbled forward into you, knocking you from your knees on to your back with the walker now hugging you, a clear view of its grey skin and yellow eyes. Straddling you, leaning into your forearm that trembled weakly while supporting its weight above you, sheer panic and adrenaline keeping it pressed against its decayed chest and its mouth away from your neck. Tears blurred your vision. Your mind reeled desperately, screaming at you to find your knife, to get your shit together, to overcome this walker that latched onto any piece of you it could grasp despite you throwing elbows at it and shoving your shoulders into it and kicking your legs out to absolutely no prevail and you’re going to die here, you’re going to fucking die here, you’re going to —

It collapsed on you, dead weight, and everything was suddenly still and silent once again.

All you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears as it mocked your racing pulse, struggling to breathe easy with your chest crushed beneath some combination of the corpse and panic. It didn’t move, it didn’t make a sound — but you lay still in fear of stirring it awake or somehow bringing it back to life while your brain sluggishly tried to catch up with the events that had just happened.

However long it was that you laid there on the ground, paralyzed in fear, you would never be able to tell — minutes, hours, seconds you were sure — it both somehow drug by agonizingly slow yet when you blinked next the weight had rolled off of you and you shot upright with a gasping breath, taking in oxygen you hadn’t even been aware had been withheld from you.

Your mouth was dry and you panted like a dog and your brain was shouting at you to run, but another pair of disembodied hands from within the darkness reached out and grasped onto your shoulders, drawing a terrified scream from your own lips that echoed through the night, against your better judgment to keep quiet. It had you held in place before you could even get to your feet.

“Hey, hey! Hey!”

You froze.

We’re you that drunk? Or, did you maybe die? And this was some sort of hell where walkers could speak while they ate you alive?

“S’just me. Calm down.”

Of course it was Daryl. Of course, he’d managed to come rescue you like a knight in shining armor after you managed to get yourself in a stupid situation that could’ve been easily avoided if you’d just stopped to think every once in awhile. And though your cheeks flooded with embarrassment and shame, you couldn’t deny the relief that filled your veins like a drug, because technically, you had found him. Which was all you wanted in the first place anyway, right?

“Shit,” you exhaled breathlessly, allowing yourself to relax again while you struggled to straighten your thoughts out. “Daryl, I—“

“What in the hell’s the matter with ya?” He whispered harshly, voice still sharp enough to make you flinch with each syllable. “Runnin’ around in the fuckin’ woods in the middle of the night. You gotta fuckin’ death wish or somethin’?”

You blinked. “I... I needed to find you—“

“No,” he cut you off furiously and you swore you could feel the heat of his anger radiating off of his body; somehow still enticing despite his demeanor. “Ya don’t ever fuckin’ come after me, ya hear me?”

“But I—“

“But nothin’! Ya don’t ever put yourself in danger, ‘specially not for me. What if I hadn’t been nearby? What if —“

“Daryl!” Between the two of you, you supposed you’d already made enough noise that you shouting wouldn’t make much of a difference anymore. “Let me talk!”

He stiffened, but shut his mouth. And even through the darkness of night you could still sense how worked up he was, how rapidly he was breathing, how warmth still radiated from his sweat-coated skin that was so unnaturally close to your own body that, between that and the fact that you’d never really even resolved your internal conflict and rehearsed some choreographed apology like you normally would have, you found that words had failed you completely. And you were silent.

Averting your gaze you sighed, hands absentmindedly playing with the grass beneath your fingertips until Daryl stood and, grabbing you by those hands, hoisted you to your feet. With a surprisingly gentle shove between your shoulders, he got you walking toward the camp, defeated.

Although you remained on high alert, adrenaline just started to ebb away slowly, you couldn’t help but watch Daryl from your peripherals throughout the short trek back. You knew that he would be aware of any walkers or potential threats that you obviously couldn’t see or hear yourself in the environment that you were in; not to mention you were already at a disadvantage. You tried so hard to read him, to feel what he was feeling and gauge his behavior and actions but he was, as always, shut away. An exciting cliffhanger that still managed to engulf your entire world within a chapter of a book you’d already read a hundred times. And you weren’t sure if you would ever figure him out — but damn if you weren’t going to try.

[yergink]

Bravery and a Bowline Ch. 2

Heavier on the fluff this time around! Also a bit longer than last chapter at 4.6k words.

First Chapter

Next Chapter

Crossposted to Ao3

Summary: Walter learns a bit about the other people on the island. Meanwhile, the kids decide to amuse themselves the best way kids know how.

They’re out gathering charcoal one day and Walter has a particular thought on his mind. 

By now, his stay on this island the others call “the Constant” has reached a whopping ten days, and in that time, he’s been doing his best to be of help around camp.

For instance, he’d been helping Webber tend to the farms. Walter didn’t mind the dirt and muck staining his clothes, and he’d gone on a field trip to a farm for school once, during which he’d been paying a lot of attention, so he was sure he could help. They’d packed seeds into the ground with manure and mud, and to Walter’s surprise, the crops grew alarmingly quickly. Webber seemed to enjoy the company as well, chatting away about the things he liked as they worked. Walter’s found out they both have a similar penchant for bugs. 

He’d been helping Wendy as well, and her biggest chore was tending to the rabbit traps spread amidst the plains. She showed him how to weave them and how to set them above the rabbits’ dens. That was where his help had ended, though. Walter tried to help her collect the traps at the end of the day, but he’d ended up feeling so bad for the rabbits that he’d ended up letting one go and Wendy said she’d handle it after that. 

Still, Walter wants to be as helpful as he can, which is why he’d volunteered to help Willow gather fuel without realizing what exactly that would entail until. And then, he was standing in front of a forest ablaze, eyes wide as he watched Willow clap excitedly until the burn died down. When he’d piped up about fire safety, she’d just waved him off and reassured that this was a “controlled burn.” Walter didn’t think that was true, but he bit back his objections.

Now, amidst the scorched trees, he watches Willow heft her axe over her shoulder and asks, “You said there were other people on the island, right?” She pauses, adjusting her angle. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah. There are. What about it?”

She swings the blade at the trunk of a freshly charred tree, and it crumbles under the force. Walter gets about, kneeling to gather the fallen pieces of charcoal and packing them away in his backpack. Woby, well-fed and in her large form, lies on her back in the sunlight just outside the forest.

Walter fidgets, rubbing his soot-stained fingers together. “Can I meet them?”

Willow snorts. She’s leaned down now, helping gather the pieces as well, and she stuffs the last charred branch away and straightens up. “When they decide to show up to our base, then sure. I’m not supposed to let any of the kids wander around.” She approaches the next tree, and before she can even regain the grip on her axe, Walter zips around it, clasping his hands together and putting on his best pout. His mom always told him he could convince the moon to fall with that face.

He’s not certain it’s going to be enough, but it does give Willow pause. “Stop using little kid powers on me, it isn’t gonna work.”

Walter pouts further, blinking a few times to make it really dramatic. His eyes water a little bit.

Willow makes a show of not looking at him, but after she cracks down the tree and sees him still waiting expectantly, her resolve seems to falter. She sighs. “Listen, I can’t really take a break to give you a whole tour of everyone’s camps, but I can tell you about the rest of them at least.”

“That works!” Walter chirps.

Her axe fells another tree. “So, I’ve mentioned Wilson before, right? He’s like, a scientist or whatever, which is just a codeword for ‘huge nerd’ if you ask me.”

Walter personally finds science rather enjoyable, so he just gives a small hum at that. “What kind of science?”

She makes a vague hand gesture. “He’s never really specific about it, to be honest. But he’s sort of a doctor. Or, he used to be, I think. Before we got here. And he used to be really stuck-up about it, too, thinking he was all smarter than the rest of us.”

“But not anymore?”

“I mean…” she trails off. “I think it was mostly just him being defensive. When it comes down to it, he’s really sweet, even if he is an idiot sometimes.” She turns, moving towards the next blackened trunk, but not before Walter catches the half-smile on her face, a look that seems uncharacteristically soft for Willow. She clears her throat. “Anyway. Ms. Wickerbottom also stays at the eastern camp with the kids. She can be a bit strict, but she’s pretty nice. She’s kind of like everyone’s grandma. You’ll probably get along with her pretty well, spouting off facts the way you do.”

They keep gathering, circling the edge of the forest line. In between felling trees, Willow’s counting off people on her fingers. “There’s Winona. She’s real spunky, and smart to boot. And there’s Mr. Wolfgang who comes off really intimidating, but he’s a sweetheart under all that muscle. He gives the best piggyback rides. And there’s Wigfrid--she can be a bit intense, but she isn't too bad. And--”

“Hey, Willow?” Walter interrupts. He feels like he’s back home trying to memorize plant names, and he wishes he had a notepad. “Maybe I’ll remember them better if I actually meet them.”

She laughs. “Sure.”

The sky grays out a bit by the time they finish hacking down trees and collecting the charcoal. The sight of incoming rain makes Willow anxious, and she gestures for them to begin the trek back to camp. The two of them walk side by side, Woby shuffling along quietly behind them. Walter shifts his hands up the backpack straps while they walk, getting a better hold on the heavy load. Despite intending to shelve the topic of the other people on the island, he can’t quite stop thinking about it.

Cautiously, he asks, “So, how many people are here in total?”  

Willow hums in thought. “I think with you we’re up to a whole seventeen.”

Seventeen people. It’s a bit difficult for Walter to comprehend. Not the number itself, mind you, but that so many people would have been lost here and had yet to find a way home. It’s worrying, although Walter doesn’t want to linger on it for too long. If he’s honest, the biggest concern he has is that this is going to make him get sick of camping.

...He just hopes his mom isn’t worrying too much.

-

After they return to camp and unpack the charcoal into the boxes by the fire, he notices Willow keep glancing fretfully at the clouded sky, and she juts her thumb towards the tent, saying that she’s going to take a nap before nightfall.

Walter nods, of course, fully intending to stay in camp as well, although as afternoon sets in and the promise of rain is still unfulfilled, he finds himself growing bored. He sits by the smoldering ashes of the firepit, tossing a stick across the length of camp for a now-small Woby to fetch, although it looks like even she is getting tired of doing so.

She drops the stick at his feet and whines, headbutting his arm when Walter reaches to throw it again. He lets the stick fall and scratches behind her ears. “You’re bored too, aren’t you,” he mumbles, and Woby barks in agreement. She darts away from him abruptly, pointing her nose towards the gate and running back and forth between it and where Walter is sitting.

He perks up a bit. “You wanna go on a walk?”

She barks. Walter stands, glancing back towards the tent, listening to Willow’s snores gently emanating from it, and then to the sky, weighing the risks. Then, he carefully unlatches the gate and slips out without looking back.

Together, he and Woby meander through the plains a bit. The air here doesn’t smell like the air back home; it’s got a sense of danger on it, not to mention the heavy smell of monster blood that Walter hasn’t entirely grown accustomed to. Still, there is still the thrill of taking it all in. Nature is nature, and Walter has learned to appreciate that. He even has a badge for it.

The tall straw-like grass begins to give way into forest, and he’s wandered back into the midst of the deciduous trees, where he first met Wendy. As autumn has gone on, more and more of the trees have gone bare, and with the clouded sky the forest has a much eerier atmosphere than usual. Woby sniffs out mushrooms for him to pick, particularly the spongy green ones that tend to sprout in the evening.

He’s just crouched down behind a few bushes to dig up another one when he pauses, the sound of voices brushing by on the wind.

There are several. One of them is high, an echoey sort of trill that he recognizes as Wendy immediately. There’s also that haunting wispy sort of noise that Wendy’s sister Abigail always makes. She doesn’t speak with words the way Wendy does, and Wendy’s the only one who can understand her, but she’s a good translator. Walter thinks he and Abigail have become pretty good friends, even if he was a bit creeped out by her at first.

Then, he hears a third voice, one that’s unfamiliar. Woby starts growling, a low, threatening rumble that doesn’t sound right coming from her small body. Walter shushes her, going still to try and hear what was going on.

The unfamiliar voice is talking. It’s a deep, smooth cadence, and it makes Walter think of that old ragtime tune that had played on the radio that brought him here.

“--struck with a bout of insomnia and was coming by for some assistance,” the voice says.

“Out of nowhere?” Wendy asks.

“I believe it has to do with that ridiculous robot screeching up a storm every night just over the river.”

Walter pushes aside the lower branches of the bush to get a better view. He sees Wendy, standing by a nearby pond with an older looking man in a sharp suit. Immediately, he’s a bit suspicious. The man is tall, and he all but towers over Wendy, leaning slightly down towards her as they talk. Walter feels Woby, still rumbling with a quiet growl beside him as he looks on.

He watches Wendy shake her head. “I’m afraid Ms. Wickerbottom is currently absent from camp. Both she and Mr. Higgsbury embarked to the underground nearly a fortnight ago. Only Ms. Willow is there right now.”

The man scoffs. “They left you in the care of the firestarter? I wouldn’t trust that woman to look after a goldfish, much less a child.”

“To be fair, uncle, it would be extremely difficult to burn a goldfish.”

Walter looks to Woby, who cocks her head in what seems like an equal amount of confusion. “Uncle” ?

The two conversing fall into a lull of silence. The man clears his throat.

“...And you’re sure you won’t reconsider staying at my camp?” he asks. There’s a hesitation behind his words, an uncertainty that marrs his otherwise smooth, charismatic tone, roughening it around the edges.

“I do not feel comfortable leaving the camp at this time,” Wendy says after a moment’s thought. “And, in fairness, I believe Ms. Willow to be a good caretaker. You needn’t worry.”

The man coughs. “Right.” He glances backwards. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

A peal of thunder rumbles across the sky, and Wendy murmurs, “May you stay well,” as the man leaves. She watches him leave with that odd sort of stillness of hers, like a statue in the forest. A few leaves fall, sticking in her hair, though she does not move until the man has entirely vanished from view. It’s only then that Walter makes a move.

“Wendy!” he calls, shaking himself out of the bushes. “Who was that?”

Wendy pauses, glancing to Abigail, then back at him. “You were eavesdropping,” she frowns.

“Kinda,” Walter admits. “So who was that?”

With some trepidation, she says, “That was our”--she indicates to herself and Abigail with a nod--”Uncle Maxwell. He camps by the rock fields.”

Woby barks, and Walter looks down to see that she’s glaring in the direction the man left, her hackles raised and tail angled in alert. He frowns. “Woby stop, that’s not nice.”

Usually, a command like that would be enough to calm her, but she growls again, low and threatening, pawing at the ground like she’s about to run off after him.

“Woby, what’s wrong with you?” Walter exclaims, swooping to pick her up before she has a chance to take off. The dog squirms in his arms, and he struggles to keep his hold on her, her back paws digging into his stomach as he tries to get her to still.

“She probably senses Their presence in him” Wendy suggests, her head tilted sideways as she watches him grapple.

He rests a hand on Woby’s head, scratching in the space between the bumps of her horns as her growls begin to taper off. “What do you mean?”

One of her hands reaches for the flower clipped in her hair--a nervous habit. “I forgot that you don’t know.” Upon seeing her sister hesitate, Abigail floats closer, whispering in that airy, incomprehensible tone. It seems to help, because even as Wendy looks away, she keeps talking.

“My uncle was the one who brought many of us here,” she explains. “And even while he has lost his crown of shadows, there are many who have continued to forego forgiveness.”

“Oh,” Walter says. He doesn’t know how to respond.

“Not all of us were condemned by his hand,” she says hurriedly. “You, for example. But my uncle has a hard time finding good favor with others. His time as king has tainted him with a terrible arrogance.”

“He did seem kind of rude. Uh, no offense.”

“None taken.”

They keep walking. It’s awkward. Walter breaks the silence. “So, do you talk to him a lot?”

Wendy hums. “As often as I must. Despite everything, he is still family. And he has been earnestly attempting to better himself, which I believe we all appreciate.”

Abigail makes a sound like steam rising off a lake, and Wendy nods in agreement. “Abigail makes a good point. We know that he cares about us.”

It’s an offhand comment, but it sends a pang of jealousy through him. Wistfully and without thinking, Walter says, “It seems kind of nice. To have family with you.” It’s a more emotionally revealing statement than he wanted to make, and he’s a bit alarmed with himself for having said something like that. Wendy seems to take it in stride though, making a sort of sympathetic sound.

“It is difficult,” she says, “to be forced to face a cruel world without a caring presence beside you.” Walter gets the feeling she isn’t talking about Maxwell anymore. Abigail murmurs sadly, hovering over Wendy’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he agrees. Quickly glancing around to verify that they’re alone, he puts a hand over his mouth and steps closer to her. “Don’t tell anyone, but… I think I’m getting a bit homesick.”

Solemnly, Wendy nods. “I shan’t speak a word of it to anyone.”

-

According to the strange thermometer set up in the camp, winter is approaching, and Walter is sure starting to feel it. The forest has started going bare, the coating of leaves along the ground growing denser by the day. There’s a chill pervading the air, one that sends him shivering on early morning fishing trips and late-night firefly hunting. He, along with the other members of the camp, huddle closer to the fire at night.

Wendy’s been making hats from the silk and fur they have, decorating them with different patterns and toppers. She’s steady with a needle, and Walter watches her thread the fabrics together in awe as they sit together.

“Who’s that one for?” he points at the completed hat she has sitting atop the spool of silk beside her.

“It’s for Webber.” She lifts it into the air, showing off the ear flaps. “So his extra legs don’t get cold.”

“It’s pretty.” The hat has been colored orange and red with boiled eggshells and berry juice. It’s an impressive feat of craftsmanship, and he wonders if Wendy will teach him how to sew like that, too.

She turns it over. “Thank you. But I think I made it a bit too big.”

“Let me try,” Walter says, reaching for it. The hat is soft, and he takes a moment to admire the texture before going to put it on. Before he gets a chance, however, Wendy interrupts.

“That’s backwards.”

Walter stops, looking at the hat. “It is?” He turns it over. The other side looks exactly the same. “It’s kind of hard to tell,” he admits.

Wendy shrugs. An idea suddenly dawns on him.

“You know,” he starts, and Wendy must hear the mischief in his tone because she immediately frowns at him. “It would be kinda funny if he wore it backwards.”

Unconvinced, Wendy asks, “Would it?”

“Yeah! My older cousins once convinced me that you can wear a skirt like a shirt, and they thought it was pretty funny, so I guess it must be funny to wear clothes wrong.”

“Maybe.” She still sounds dubious.

Walter stands up, gesturing for Webber to join them. “Here, give it to him,” he whispers to Wendy, shoving the hat back into her hands as Webber approaches.

“What is it?” the boy asks, glancing back and forth from Walter to Wendy. His smaller eyes don’t quite synchronize with the movements of his larger ones, and Walter finds himself momentarily distracted by this. Luckily, Wendy takes charge, standing as well. She holds the hat out to him.

“Here. Try this on,” she says.

“Oh, you finished our hat!” Webber exclaims. He grins as he takes it, taking a moment just as Walter did to marvel at the softness, before placing it over his head. Wendy’s initial assessment that the hat was too big was immediately obvious, and coupled with having put it on the wrong way, the hat leaves Webber with just a bit of his furry head showing. The front lip falls all the way down past where his nose would be, and his mouth is just barely visible underneath, open in alarm.

“It covers our eyes!” Webber says loudly, as if to make up for his lack of sight.

Walter giggles, trying vainly to stifle it with a hand, and Wendy shushes him. “It’s the intended design, Webber. And you have to wear it because I made it for you.”

They both know Webber will be too polite to object to that. His mouth abruptly shuts, hiding his fangs, and Walter thinks he sees the boy swallow, as if steeling his nerves. His stance straightens, like he’s fully committing to spending the entire winter blinded. “We will wear it then!” he declares, turning and almost immediately running headfirst into the camp’s outer stone wall. With a startled cry, he backs up, and Walter just barely manages to grab hold of his shoulder before he trips and falls backwards.

“Thank you,” Webber says as he regains his balance. “This hat is scary!”

Wendy laughs. It escapes her like a puff of smoke, a small, flightless thing that could be mistaken as nothing more than a breath come too fast. But Walter can tell what it is, and he looks to her in surprise for a moment before a grin spreads across his face.

He thinks Webber can tell what it is too, because Walter sees him lift the hem of the hat, and even though he’s not very good at discerning spider expressions, to him, Webber looks incredibly pleased.

“That was amusing,” Wendy says after they’ve gotten the hat off Webber and tucked away in Wendy’s bag for further tailoring. “I will admit that despite your naivety, you have good ideas, Walter.”

It’s a bit of a backhanded compliment, but Walter doesn’t take it personally. “Thanks. You’re a lot better at holding it together when it comes to pranks, though.”

She nods. “That is true. Does that mean you would be opposed to orchestrating a second one?”

He grins. “Not at all.”

-

They get Webber to help with their next one. Willow’s used to him spending nights by the spider dens along the forest, so it’s not suspicious if he doesn’t show up by nightfall.

Woby whines, shaking her shaggy head as Webber gets close, and Walter does his best to hold onto her collar and keep her from bucking him away and scampering off. “It’s okay girl, he’s nice, trust me,” Walter soothes, petting her big floppy ears as Webber struggles to mount her.

He gets it eventually, holding on tight to the fur on the back of Woby’s neck, and Walter takes her head between his hands and speaks very sternly. “Be nice to Webber, and listen to him, okay? We’re doing a prank on Willow, and you’ve gotta be good for it.” Woby woofs, which doesn’t really sound like agreement, but she seems to quickly give in, licking his face affectionately when Walter pouts at her. He grins. “There’s a good girl.”

He rejoins Wendy by the outer camp wall, where she’d been watching.

“It is impressive how well you have tamed such a great beast,” she says.

He shrugs. “Woby’s not much of a beast. She’s scared of butterflies.”

“I see.”

Nightfall finds both of them back in camp with Willow, watching as she rummages through the fridge for something to put together into a half-decent meal. Wendy looks over to him and gives him a nudge, indicating that they should start.

“I have a story!” Walter announces loudly, planting himself cross-legged by the fire. That does enough to gather attention. Willow likes to pretend she isn’t all that interested in his stories, but oftentimes she’s the one sitting most on edge, her chin resting on her hands as she listens with wide eyes and held breath for him to finish.

Now is no exception. She lingers at the crockpot for a moment while Wendy joins him by the fire, although sky quickly abandons the meatballs she’d been preparing in favor of listening to the story. Walter clears his throat, glancing out beyond the walls. There’s a small gleam of light out there, a torch, where Webber and Woby are waiting for their cue.

“So there’s this monster out in the woods,” he begins, putting his hands up. He’d practiced for this one, no messing up or scrambling his words. It has to be good. He takes a breath to steady himself.

“They say it’s huge, almost three meters tall, with long shaggy fur that drags behind it, getting all dirty with mud and leaves, and long scary claws. The people who see it say it looks like a piece of the forest itself.” He thinks that was pretty good, but Willow doesn’t look impressed yet. He goes off script, amping it up. “A-And it’s super venomous too, with acid breath and big sharp teeth!” He claws his hands in front of his face, imitating fangs. “It goes around hunting people who wander too far into the woods. Sometimes, people’ll see lights shining through the trees without knowing that they’re just the monster’s shiny eyes.”

The fire pops, sparks flying as if to emphasize his words. Willow seems pretty enraptured now, head tilted slightly as her eyes flick between the flames and Walter’s gestures.

“What else?” Wendy prompts, just as they’d planned.

For the briefest moment, the script slips from his mind, and Walter stumbles. “Huh? Oh, yeah, so--” he clears his throat again. “It uh…”

“They say…” Wendy whispers.

“Right! They say it roams out there, stalking unsuspecting campers...” he turns and finds that speck of light with his eyes again, raising his voice for the final line. “...Waiting for a chance to strike!”

With a resonant howl, Woby leaps over the southern wall of the camp. Webber, with his hands wrapped around her neck, holds on for dear life. She doesn’t quite nail the landing, scrambling to slow down on the dirt and slamming sideways into the alchemy engine, nearly knocking it over.

Walter giddily looks to see Willow's expression, but quickly finds himself pushed backwards, scraping his knees in the dirt, with Wendy toppled over and looking equally confused beside him. He winces, assessing the rough scratches of grit on his skin. Once he’s confirmed he’s not bleeding, he glances forward.

There is a towering dark shape before him, backlit by the glow of the fire, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s Willow, her spear readied and sharp in her grasp. She’d shoved them behind her almost immediately, widening her stance and placing herself firmly between them and Woby.

Walter uprights himself, reaching out hesitantly for her sleeve. “Willow--”

Her head snaps down to him, and he flinches backwards. There’s nothing but ferocity and aggression in her eyes, although it slowly fades as she takes note of Woby skittering away from her spearpoint nervously, and Webber sliding clumsily off her back, landing with an ‘oof’.

After another few moments of taking in the scene, her stance drops. “Okay,” she says finally, sinking her spearpoint into the dirt and turning to glower at each of the children in turn. “I don’t know what you all were thinking, but that was really dumb. Like, actually really dumb.”

“It was my idea,” Wendy pipes up, brushing dirt off her skirt as she stands up. “I asked Walter--”

“No, you just said you wanted to do a prank,” he argues. It doesn’t feel fair for her to try and take blame. He faces Willow, hands folded behind his back. “It was my idea.”

“...We just thought it would be fun, Ms. Willow,” Webber says sheepishly, wringing his hands as he edges forward.

“Yeah? Well I could’ve stabbed you. Bet that would’ve been real fun,” she snaps.

Webber’s eyes start welling. Seeing this, Water steps forward. “I asked him to do it. It’s my fault.”

Her sharp gaze turns to him and Walter stiffens, looking down and feeling very much in trouble. Still, he can’t let his friends take the heat for him. He’s got honor, after all.

“I know you don’t know yet, but things bursting into our camp and attacking us isn’t really something we can joke about,” Willow lectures, her tone like an edge of broken glass. “Putting one of you in the position of some monster? That’s really, really dumb.”

Walter keeps examining his shoes, his hands tightening around each other behind his back. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

Something in Willow seems to soften at that. She sighs, patting him on the shoulder. “Just. Don’t pull that sh-- stuff again.” She grimaces. “I have a headache. See you in the morning.” With that, she disappears into the tent.

Webber still looks on the verge of tears, and Walter murmurs an apology to him as well. Through it all, Wendy still looks nothing more than apathetic. She glances to the tent, then nods, as if to herself.

“To be fair,” she says. “Conceptually, it was very amusing.”

Walter sniffs, brightening at that. “Yeah?”

The tiniest of smiles graces her lips. “Yeah.”

[newevents641]

How Do You Play Paintball On Game Pigeon

Here are 6 tips to win a paintball game. This tips will help you to improve your paintball game. If you stick to them, then you will see a huge improvement and that will get you a win. So here are the tips:

How To Play Paintball On Game Pigeon

How Do You Play Game Pigeon Paintball

How Do I Play Paintball On Game Pigeon

Practice aiming your paintball gun. Practice looking down the barrel and aiming your paintball gun, and take the gun into a safe location with a solid backstop and take a couple shots to get used to the accuracy. If you have a vertical feed gun, look down the right or left side of the barrel to aim. If i shot a bird with a paintball gun would the bird die? Learn how to paintball! Everything beginners need for playing paintball - where to play, paintball rules, equipment, guns & paintball marker reviews. Do not be afraid, it is only name of this game. Run as long as possible. Do you want to play in PVP “battle royales”? Do you want survival games, team games, and more? How to Play Paintball Net at Work.

How To Play Paintball On Game Pigeon

1. Learn How to Move

I don’t know if this will be your first game of paintball or you played before. But one thing is for sure and that is that you will need to learn how to move on that paintball field.

How Do You Play Game Pigeon Paintball

Check out guys in the video below. They are running, sliding, hiding and shutting while laying on the ground and so on. To be better in paintball you need to practice this kinda movements.

When I started playing, I was like Pinocchio compared to the other players. Then I started to practice, first without the guns and later on with the gun. That resulted in me having better games.

2. Communication on Paintball Field

If you are a lonely player then this is harder to practice. On the other hand, if you have a team, then a really important thing is to learn how to communicate. Play as many games together, plan how to let other them players know where are the enemy and other things. Go true game and set the rules of communication. Remember, there is no “I” in teamwork.

You can learn that skill not just playing paintball but also playing video games and other things.

3. Get to Know Your Paintball Field

Always good idea is to know your playing field. Take a few minutes and walk through the field. Take your team players with you and get to know all the obstacles, terrain…

Make your plan of attack in the head, try to imagine where the enemy will be and how to get to them without them knowing. This is a really important tip to remember, don’t be that guy that go full YOLO attack.

4. Plan the Attack

As I sad in tip number 3, don’t be that guy that you full attack without the plan. Take the time and make a plan of attack. Select the best positions on the field, and use them.

Also, make a plan of movement. Select which team member will go where. And that will prevent misunderstanding and increased a chance to win the game.

5. Play it Cool

Don’t let the adrenaline gets you. Play it nice and come, hide behind the barricade and wait a little bit, check out what part of the field can you cover from that position. Basically, observe surrounding and make a plan in the head. Don’t just do things!

6. It’s a Game

How Do I Play Paintball On Game Pigeon

Paintball is just a game, make sure to have as much fun while playing it as you can. Remember to make friends while playing it and don’t be a guy who won’t give hand after a good game. Play it fear and make sure to be nice to your everybody.

This tip is important, people that you become friends will most likely play with you again. Plus they can hang out in your free time.

Why This 6 Tips?

Those 6 tips to win a paintball game really was my approach to playing the game. If I don’t stick to them I just play poorly. My main things are, make a plan, keep your head come, learn to communicate with your team players and know the field. A movement will come with time.

I hope this blog post help you to, feel free to comment down below.

АвтоВидео-блогиДТП, аварииДля маленькихЕда, напиткиЖивотныеЗакон и правоЗнаменитостиИгрыИскусствоКомедииКрасота, модаКулинария, рецептыЛюдиМотоМузыкаМультфильмыНаука, технологииНовостиОбразованиеПолитикаПраздникиПриколыПриродаПроисшествияПутешествияРазвлеченияРжачСемьяСериалыСпортСтиль жизниТВ передачиТанцыТехнологииТоварыУжасыФильмыШоу-бизнесЮмор

This is the OLD PbNation channel! Go watch the newer version of this video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCpVniJJ08c Subscribe to the new channel: http://pbnation.com/pbnation Paintball is played with all manner of specialized equipment like the masks, markers and air tanks but the truth is, you don't need any of it to play paintball for the first time. Paintball fields all over the world rent every piece of equipment you need to participate right on site. So, what do you need to actually bring when you go to play paintball for the first time? The most important part is to dress for the weather. Most paintball fields are outside so make sure what you wear is comfortable and you won't be too hot or too cold. Remember, you will be running around so if it is cold, make sure you wear layers you can remove if you get too hot. You will want to wear long sleeves and definitely avoid wearing shorts. If it is chilly enough to warrant it, bring it a hoody. That's a great removable layer. If possible stick to darker colors and bring loose-fitting clothes that you don't mind getting dirty. The paint will almost always wash out of darker colors but dirt and grass could possibly stain. More importantly, you want to be free to have fun and not worry about ruining expensive clothes. It's very common to see people playing for the first time in jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt or a hooded sweatshirt. You won't look out of place. It's not a bad idea to bring something to cover the top of your head. A baseball cap works just fine. You can turn it backwards and wear it with almost any rental mask. If it isn't too warm consider at least bringing a beanie or a knitted cap. You can even bring a spare dark colored t-shirt to drape as an extra layer of protection around your neck. If you hunt or have camouflage laying around, that's a great choice to wear, but it isn't needed. It won't be a huge advantage so don't go out and buy it just to play for the first time. Don't feel the need to try and fit in. People will recognize you are playing for the first time no matter how much you look the part. Just like any game, the first time you play will be a new experience. Just enjoy yourself and have fun. You'll most likely be playing with and against other newer players so you don't need to look like an expert on your first trip out anyway. Some fields rent jumpsuits that cover your clothes and some fields don't. It's worth asking ahead of time but as long as you wear clothes you don't mind getting dirty, you'll be fine. You'll want shoes you can run around in. The terrain is different from field to field but old running shoes, cleats or hiking boots all work well. The most important part is you wear something that is comfortable and fits. You can bring gloves, but remember you are going to be holding the marker and pulling the trigger so big winter gloves won't work. If you are under 18, you probably need to get your parents to sign a waiver. If they are driving you to the field, then you are set, just make sure they hang around while you get signed in. Some fields require you do it on site but many allow you to print it online and just bring it with you. Check with the field first. Bring cash or at least check and make sure the field accepts checks or credit cards before trying to use one. Bring a little more money than you think you'll need, you might want extra paintballs and most fields also sell drinks. Some fields serve food as well so that's worth finding out before you go. Consider bringing a change of clothes for the end of the day too. All paint from paintball these days is washable and generally pretty easy to clean off, even out of a car if absolutely necessary, but that's work you can avoid by simply changing clothes before you go home. Also, there's a good chance you'll get your playing clothes dirty or even a little muddy so unless that's the type of abuse you normally subject your car to, bring some spare clothes to change into and you might even want to bring a plastic garbage bag to throw your dirty clothes into as well. Видео What to wear to play paintball for the first time? канала PaintballNationVideo

00:03:24

Поделиться

[gyromitra-esculenta]

So, generally, I couldn’t leave this stuff on ending 1. So, ‘Something Begins’, or so called Ending 2, part kind of 1. Mostly unedited, still ‘a bad Witcher AU’. So it would seem it gets to be made into a proper thing.

Warnings: none (unless you count general creepiness or mention of hunting/hunting practices or personal angst).

*

It takes him closer to two decades to return even if he swore he wouldn't come back. The horse plods slowly along the road, the dirt muffling the sound of its shoes. Only the jingling of the harness and gear rises above the song of the cicadas in the dead summer air. The trail takes him through the fields of wheat just about losing their grayish-green tint to dirty yellow of fresh straw. Clusters of red and blue in the grain provide welcome relief from the monotony, as do small birds on a hunt, flitting in and out of the wheat.

For the whole day Gabriel barely passes or sees anyone, people probably busy with the festivities preceding the hard work of the harvest, not that he is bothered by it. Far from it, he's rather comfortable with drawing no attention even if the region is favorable to his kin. The voice calling him comes from behind and Gabriel looks over his shoulder to a man awkwardly chasing him, a big pack on his back and a walking stick in hand. He turns the horse around, waiting for him to catch up.

"Master witcher," the man stops to regain his breath.

"A noonwraith?" The fact the general populace is less likely to call him a mutant or devilspawn doesn't mean anyone's going to stop him for a chat. The season's right for the wraiths, too.

"No, no, not a thing like that, doesn't keep around, master witcher." The man has a skin like leather weathered by sun, grey peeking from under his cap, wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. "Have you come for you pay, master witcher?"

Ah. He hadn't really intended to check back on that, mostly forgot about it. Gabriel shakes his head. Nothing about it stirs his interest.

"No. Keep it."

The man nods, as if thinking something over, humming to himself.

"Then come with me, master witcher, spend the night, and the feast. Tomorrow's my youngest hair-cutting, and Mikheil's farewells, the boy's leaving the homestead."

"Your oldest?" Gabriel asks on a whim.

"No, no, the third oldest, the boy got into his head he's better off finding his luck on the road. Well-spoken too, didn't get that from me and my girl," the man explains with enthusiasm. "Family's farm's not for him."

"That's how kids are. He will come around."

"No, no, master witcher, there's no talking him out of anything, always does what he wants. Me and Lila, we thought of giving him to the druids. Some choice words he had, and the druids, they just said no, but Mikheil's got talent."

The man - Wernund, as Gabriel’s memory suddenly reminds him after almost eighteen years, curious what little tidbits emerge when not expected - continues on about his family, and, whether wanting or not, he learns ins and outs of the familial life on the farm. Stranger still, Wernund keeps to the horse's side, and Gabriel feels no need to hurry the mount out of its complacent tempo.

"...I know the naming is mine but Lila chose the name for Nielub, it's a good name, strong name. Woj. That boy will fight a bear barehanded if allowed."

"And the woods, how are they?"

The treeline, closer and definite, sways on the afternoon wind, greener than Gabriel recalls it to have been when he paid it a visit with Jack.

"Never better. I don't know what you did in there, master witcher, but a month, and it was like before."

"Only returned what had been taken from it. Gabriel," he adds. "It's my given name."

With a glance, he observes the plethora of mixed emotions on Wernund's face, waits for the offer of the stay to be rescinded, but to his surprise the man again nods to himself.

"So it would be you, master witcher. Must've had your reasons."

"Gabriel."

"Would be improper, master witcher." Gabriel chuckles at his headstrong resolution and the refusal to feel fright at being in the presence of the one hailed the Reaper. "And there, there is my home."

Wernund points at the buildings at the edge of the forest, almost directly on the no-one's land between the trees looming over the road and the swaying wheat. The farmyard, as a whole, is too big and ample for him to travel on foot - a house, a shed, and a stable, all separate. With the diminishing distance the activity in front of the house becomes obvious: two women sitting on the wooden bench - both plucking chickens, some down floating freely - one man chopping the wood, and a boy running with a stick with several colorful ribbons tied to it.

As they get closer, one of the women notices them - quickly says something - the rest of the way they pass under the scrutiny, and the boy, must be Nielub, running towards his father, the ribbons fluttering behind him. The boy is blond, as is the man leaning now on the axe.

The women, on the other hand, both have rich brown hair, though the older one is visibly greying in front and on her temples - where her locks are woven around polished copper rings glinting in the sun.

Gabriel reins in the horse and dismounts while the boy asks after the gifts.

"Lila!" Wernund sends the boy back to play, placating him with a wooden sword from his backpack propped against the wall. "Lila, we have a guest."

"I noticed," she huffs, returning to her work after giving her husband a lingering look. "Mojmira. Bring the pitcher."

Being observed - regarded with suspicion - never something he grew accustomed to even if it'd always been present in the background of his life, but now back of Gabriel's neck prickles with the question unasked and the weight of her eyes on him.

"I have no intention of taking..."

"Not important," Lila cuts him off, fingers deftly tearing out the feathers, her head tilted to the side hawkishly. "You must be the witcher, the one who rescued idiot husband of mine, I've seen you in my ken." Ah, one of those. Gabriel nods, smiling with the corner of his lips. "You have my thanks, for everything. There's place for you, and the horse, in the stable, clean, and tomorrow, the feast. You'll be staying."

Mojmira comes back from the house with a clay jug held in one hand, and a wooden cup she hands him, dark eyes flicking to his face.

"I see," Gabriel chuckles, raising the cup to his lips - the smell and the taste slightly sour, water with vinegar. "A counteroffer."

"Maybe." Lila throws feathers to the ground. "Fate allows for bargains, but it won't be scorned, not even by the likes of you, witcher."

He glances to Wernund standing several feet away, talking with his oldest, Adan, as he came to know on the way.

"Is your daughter the same?"

Mojmira, sitting again by the side of her mother, and back at work, giggles.

"All women in my line have their gifts."

"And your husband said you're not well-spoken."

"My husband, as much as I love him, is many things, but he had not been born and raised here. He doesn't need to know."

"I see. I'll be going to the forest but I commit myself to be back for the night."

"Fine by me," Lila nods and Gabriel leaves the cup on the bench. "And if you find Mikheil hunting rabbits there, send him home."

"You let your son..."

"You should know, witcher, better than anyone, that if the forest wants to give, it does, and if it doesn't want to, it doesn't."

"It also has a way of punishing those that take what they shouldn't," his tone is sharper than he intends it to, and Gabriel sighs, closing his eyes for a moment.

"That is why we never take what is not offered. If the rabbit springs from under your feet, is it not a gift?"

Gabriel prefers not to answer her knowing smile, instead he turns and leaves the horse grazing in the yard. With a heavy heart, he crosses the road and walks into the forest's shade, feeling her gaze on his back.

The woods are nothing like he remembers them, lush and green now. Neither a desolate and twisted place overgrown with thorns and full of bones, nor a dark nightmare of a child full of monsters. There is life in the trees, birds and insects singing. He spots a fox deeper in - it idly considers him before turning and disappearing in the bushes. Gabriel lets himself wander, a ghost of a smile on his lips, and fingers brushing against the spot under which the flower rests.

Maybe he should have visited years earlier, but it had never felt like a thing to do, the current situation more of an accident than anything else.

It's the smell of fresh blood that pulls him out of his thoughts, and he approaches carefully the small clearing. Two rabbits being bled hang by their hind legs from a low branch, next to them several fish with twine threaded under their gills, a bow and a quiver on the ground. A young man, judging by the posture, sits on the grass with his back to him, occupied with something in his lap. Blond, like the other sons of Wernund.

"Mikheil?"

"You're the worst at collecting your pay, you know?" The boy, springing to his feet, chuckles, and turns. "I was about to go look for you myself."

Gabriel freezes, faced with the impossibility of the image before him, his eyes drifting to the weasel swinging freely from the hands holding it.

"You hate..."

"Oh, yeah, I still do, I guess," Jack mutters, "but this is Lord Murders-A-Lot."

Younger, with places still left to fill out, awkward posture - the legs and arms a bit too long and bony, bits of baby fat waiting to disappear, hair not short enough, dissonances like a vision superimposed on something real.

"...and he murders a lot," slips from Gabriel's lips.

"Mostly chicks. I'm trying to wane him off murder," Jack moves his hands - the weasel appears to be content with being swung around, "and teach him to go after the eggs, but it's not working out. At least, the eggs don't scream at him they're being murdered, like the chicks do."

Gabriel takes a tentative step forward as Jack continues to speak.

"Voles, too. I've even seen him take down a rabbit once, he's an exceptional murder ribbon."

"I miss you," words barely a whisper.

"Well, you certainly didn't hurry then," Jack scoffs, before his eyes widen a bit. He crosses the distance between them - Gabriel cannot shift his gaze away from the weasel for some reason - and stops in front of him. "You're still thinking I'm not here."

"No, you're here, just..." A memory, an apparition, a vision? Not real, not physical, because Jack is dead.

"I sure hope I'm not whatever it is you're imagining me to be, Rhenaweddin." Jack moves, quick, his lips warm and chapped at the edges, with an elusive taste of something sweet and green between them. Gabriel grabs onto his arms to keep him in place before he slips away, again. "I'm really counting on that last growth spurt. Standing on my toes to kiss you, cub, it's going to get old fast."

"That's," Gabriel laughs, almost silent, contained - maybe the emotion has a hysterical flavor to it, "that's what you're worried about?"

"Small things to worry about are good things. Now," Jack puts Lord Murders-A-Lot on his shoulder and the weasel with no delay flattens itself around his neck, "what has my mother managed to rope you into?"

"A bargain. I might have traded..."

"Then you weren't listening, cub."

"Told to send you home." The tightness in his throat is making it hard for him to speak.

"Sneaky woman," Jack clicks his tongue with appreciation, stretching his neck out for a quick peck. "Well, best not to keep her waiting too long, then, she can be really bitchy at times."

Gabriel watches him turn, gather the bow and the quiver, pick the rabbits and the fish from the branch, as if it's the most common - the most reasonable - thing to do. His medallion remains motionless, the thought of having missed its movement earlier in the day troubles him.

"Are you coming, little cub?" Jack laughs, passing him, the weasel still on its perch, its eyes closed and nose twitching. "It feels somewhat strange calling you that when I'm shorter than you."

At that age, yes, Jack hadn't been the tallest, rapidly gaining height only later.

They both did, but it took more time for Jack to grow into his body - his agility strangely mismatched with his disproportionate limbs and bony hips. All paired up with a little cheeky grin like the one he wears now when he looks over his shoulder at Gabriel.

"I'm coming."

Rabbits and fish. Out hunting when they should be training, returning to the keep with the spoils they had not roasted already over the fire hidden in the cove, stomachs full, ready for the reprimand coming from Reinhardt.

It's a memory playing out again in front of Gabriel.

He should, probably, thank the forest for that glimpse, or hate it, deeply, for forcing him to remember and dwell on happier times, uncomplicated, when the only worry had been doing something stupid - which they both were good at, exceptionally so - and suffering the consequences. Broken bones would mend, and scrapes and cuts, sometimes burns and bites, they would heal.

Jack, leading the way, moves with the same kind of disjointed grace he had observed so many times then. Maybe, it is a chance to say proper goodbyes, and to put the ghosts to rest.

"Wait," Gabriel calls after him as Jack is about to cross the invisible boundary of the forest and walk onto the road - the homestead and the fields visible in glimpses between the trees - and the moment has to end.

"You really won't like mother when she's angry."

And just like that, he steps outside the woods, leaving Gabriel with his hand outstretched behind.

He waits for Jack to vanish, for the illusion to fall away from the boy - yet nothing happens, it's still the same painfully familiar silhouette cut against the darkening sky.

The fact he doesn't remember there being any houses this close to the forest does not assuage his uneasiness. Respect it, trust it, revere it, but do not come too close if not needed. The medallion lies dormant. Gabriel draws in a deep breath and follows Jack - not Jack.

The table is set - bread, butter, and white cheese, a pitcher in the centre, probably more water - lit by two torches on poles sticking out of the ground. Lila combs her fingers through Jack's hair but her eyes are on Gabriel.

"Rabbits and fish, as promised."

"Go inside and welcome your father, he's back from the town."

"Yes, mother."

Jack leaves the catch hanging on the hook by the door and disappears inside the house. Lila waits before speaking again.

"Did you find what you were looking for, witcher?"

"No." Gabriel holds her gaze.

[love-me-some-bakubitch]

Enemies to Lovers. Right?

Bakugo x Fem Reader (May Contain Smut/Lemon)

Starts at Child Hood Level UwU ;)

Character Name: (F/n) (L/n)

Quirk: Quirk Nullification

 You’re running from the 5-year-old hot head on the school playground.

 Today was your first day at a new school and this boy called Katsuki Bakugo went up to you saying stuff about how he’s the best and the boss of the class and bla bla bla.

 You wouldn’t put up with it though and told him that no matter what his quirk was he couldn’t do anything to you with it, which obviously got him mad.

 Too bad the bell rang, and you ran out before he could do anything about it.

 You laugh as you look back at the crazy boy behind you.

 Let’s just get this over with.

 You stop running and let the out of breath Bakugo catch up to you.

 “Tch, so you’re… finally stopping.. c-cause you know I would have… gotten you anyways, you extra.” He says very out of breath.

 “Silly KitKat I could sit right here, and you still wouldn’t be able to roast me like you said.” You sit down just to prove your point.

 Hmph, time to show this cocky girl who’s boss. Katsuki thinks to himself as his hands start to spark.

 He throws a small explosion aimed for your side since he hoped- though wouldn’t admit it- that you would dodge.

 You didn’t.

 The explosion died out before it could touch you because of your quirk.

 You get up leaving the dumb founded KitKat alone and wink at him before walking away.

 “Wait!” you hear from behind you, making you turn to face him.

 “I swear! One day I will beat you! I will be the best!” you just laugh and continue on your way.

 3 Years Later (You’re 8)

 “You ready nerd?” your standing in front of the schools gate waiting for the 20-minute late Katsuki Bakugo.

 Over the years Katsuki has challenged you to a fight every other day till he can finally beat you, determined to be the best.

 After a few tries the first year he realized his quirk had no advantage since even when you’re not focused, you’re quirk automatically protects you without you even realizing it.

 “Where have you been?” you ask rolling your eyes playfully.

 “You’re my enemy, I don’t need to tell you.” He says giving you a look as you walk side by side to the beach. But of course, one foot apart because those are the rules unless they’re battling.

 “You’re so dramatic KitKat. But that’s ok because you know what they say about enemies in the manga’s?” you say while taking a step closer to him without him noticing.

 “Stop calling me KitKat you nerd!”

 “Never! Kit! Kat!”

 “Oi you better listen to me you lousy little-!” he tackles you to the ground and you both roll onto an open field that’s by the beach.

 You laugh as he manages to pin you down while you’re distracted.

 He leans down close to your face with an angry look.

 “How can you laugh in a situation like this?” he says angrily.

 “What situation? You’re just a cute boy pinning me down. Plus, we’re still in the enemies stage according to the manga.”

 Katsuki tries hard to fight the blush coming onto his face and keeps his mean look on before letting you go and rolling to the side sitting down.

 “Weirdo.” He mutters low enough for only him to hear.

 “What the hell are you talking about? The whole manga thing?” he asks slightly curious about the whole thing you would bring up a few times for the past three years.

 You get up and clean the dirt and grass off your clothes, getting ready to go home since you lost track of time.

 “Enemies will become lovers.” You say proudly before walking away giving innocent little KitKat some time to realize what you mean.

 By the time you reach the side walk it hits him.

 “What the hell?!” you start running as he chases after you.

 “No way!” he shouts causing you to giggle.

 I’ll prove you wrong KitKat. You’ll see.

 6 Years Later to Before the Entrance Exam

Today was the last day that you and Katsuki would be training together since the U.A. entrance exam was tomorrow and Katsuki wanted to get enough sleep for tomorrow.

 He still doesn’t know that you enrolled at U.A. and you’re going to take part in the entrance exam.

 You’re planning on surprising him after today’s training.

 “Hey, KitKat?”

 He looks over to you with a bored look on his face.

 After all this time you still haven’t been able to get him to admit that the two of you are at least friends.

 Even though you make it obvious he still hasn’t realized that you have a crush on him, and for the longest time at that.

 “What do you want now?” he asks a little less annoyed than he did when you first met.

 You think back to the time you found him on the verge of tears talking to himself about this Deku guy always trying to be a hero and all those other times he would complain to you about him, with you always being there for him and listening.

 That had to mean something right?

 You’ve never seen him talk to anyone about his problems, but he talks to you about them.

 Katsuki sees that you’re lost in a thought again and just looks at you, waiting for you to snap out of it.

 What the fuck is wrong with this gir- I mean nerd? Tch, always talking about manga this and manga that, she should stop reading that shit.

 And why does she always hang out with me? Isn’t she tired of me and the yelling like… like everyone else… Wait. No! I am the fucking best and will always be!

 I’LL… I’ll even top All Might…!

 Katsuki has this tiny bit of doubt within him that he doesn’t even see himself, no one does since he’s always being so arrogant.

 He soon gets tired of the silence and slightly pushes your shoulder taking you out of your thoughts.

 “O-oh um, sorry.” You say with a nervous laugh.

 “Anyways… I have some good news to tell you.” You say with a big smile removing all the tension and doubt in him.

 “Yeah I doubt it. What good could come out of your mouth?” he says looking into your eyes.

 You don’t take it to heart and stick your tongue out playfully to him.

 He grabs it in between his thumb and index finger sending a glare your way.

 “I’ve already told you not to do that to me.”

 You blush furiously as he lets go of your tongue and goes back to sitting with his arms resting on his knees.

 (Btw you’re both sitting facing the beach on that big as rock. And you know how you look when you’re on your knees well your bootayyyy is on your feet. Yk cute and innocent Japanese loli- I mean girl… You get me? *sweat drop* and Baku hoe is with his knees up halfway to his chest but with his legs open and his arms resting on his knees. Ok that’s all wuv youuuu)

 “Sorry master~” you say jokingly just to bug him and smirk seeing the blush come upon his face as he looks away to hide it.

 “Just tell me your ‘good news’.”

 You hold back a giggle and start talking.

 “Well, as you may or may not know, depending on if you actually pay attention to when I talk to you, I want to be a Hero aaaaand I enrolled into U.A. so you’re going to see me tomorrow at the exam!” you say happily.

 He turns to you with an angry look.

 “What?! You would never make it in, all your quirk does is protect you! You’re just a fucking extra that wants to be more than what they actually are!! You USELESS fucking extra!” He’s standing and yelling down at you as you begin to tear up, fighting hard to hold it in.

 “Oh, fuck you Katsuki! You’re just mad because you still can’t fucking beat me! You fucking piece of shit bastard and no good asshole who’s just so full of himself!” you yell right back at him along with only a few of the words you picked up from him.

 You wipe the one tear that escaped your eye angrily and pick up your bag.

 “Oh, please your combat is just as useful as your (e/c) eyes. Not. At. All.” He walks away with one last glare.

 You fall to the floor finally letting the flood of tears escape.

 “Fuck you Katsuki. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.” You say to yourself while hitting the rock beneath you with your fists.

 You get up deciding to not care about him anymore and not ever talk to him again.

 What a fucking piece of shit ass.

 Before you leave you notice that your Enemies to Lovers manga slipped out your bag and pick it up.

 “Enemies to lovers. Right?” you glare at the manga before throwing it towards the ocean.

 “As if.”

 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hehehe welcome to the first part. Chapter 2?

[k-sunrael]

Anomaly [Pt.2]

[ Pt.1]

Hadriel began to reply, “As I said, I’m simply here for my si-”

Several shadow ravens darted through him like compressed bullets. “We don’t have time for this, time is breaking and you want to save your boyfriend…” A sinister purple glow came from Areus’ eyes as his knuckles cracked from the pressure of his spell. He continued, “The name was Sungrave. Their Patriarch sent the note about Exis, who seems to be his niece and…” gestured his head toward Hadriel, “--this one’s brother. Meaning we can’t trust them. If they waited to contact you after they had exhausted every possible method, I’m sure those trial-and-error efforts included trying to kill Whitstan. As hypocritical as my observation sounds after I tried to kill Whitstan…” he snapped his fist back toward his own body, the supernatural ravens that had been formed out of Shadow and a mixture of his pure willpower darted back through Hadriel’s torso. “I’m not fond of liars.” he rasped hatefully, blood splattering every which way about them. The earth seemed to give way and shake after his short outburst. The splintered glass-like image before them suddenly cracked even further as Whitstan’s blade shifted forward toward the Paladin at an increasing rate after Kaevia and Areus had shown up. It seemed like Whitstan was indeed tethered to this chronobreak but stubbornly refused to give up, his hand still carrying forward through pure effort and the unrelenting will of his runeblade despite being trapped in time. Hadriel, unaffected by the time bubble behind him, fell to his hands and knees for a moment before dust and smoke gathered about him, cloaking him from sight for the briefest of moments prior to disappearing. Areus drew an unseen item from his satchel before throwing it into a segment of broken time adjacent to them. The pocketwatch hung in the air after reaching the temporal anomaly. He snapped his fingers, uttering an indecipherable incantation and activation key in Thalassian, “Timewarp.”

Kaevia barely had enough time to truly digest what had been happening between her and the other -- typical power move and one of the least with patience from her Uncle. He truly shared her father’s blood and at times, her own. Stepping to the side through the smoke, she watched as Areus lobbed the item towards the anomaly. 

Shards of time that were separated seemed to snap back together violently as Whitstan’s sword shattered Exis’ chest causing her to screech out in agony. Without any expectation of what the item would have done, Kaevia jumped as the shards snapped together. So much so she had clutched to her Uncle’s arm and the familiar voice came, the display before them swiftly becoming something Kaevia could not stop herself from being a terrible outcome.

The Death Knight’s eyes glowed a sapphire hue as he regarded Exis hatefully, “Nice try, girl.” he commented dryly. “I can’t be held here. There’s too much at stake. Take solace in this… your little last-ditch effort would’ve failed either way.” he spoke while twisting his runeblade- it seemed to drink up the mountain of blood that the Paladin leaked out. “Sooner or later the blade would’ve ran you through anyway.” his voice echoed while painting a rather grim picture in front of his two would-be saviors. 

The scene itself a terrible display which would have bore fruit which was only a matter of time before something happened and one of the two within lost.

Regardless, Whitstan lifted the small woman up with his sword still stuck in her chest, his abnormal undead strength showing through clearly in a sinister light, “I can’t stay stuck in time anymore. I’ve now watched two grim futures I would stagnate in…” he shook his head as his voice echoed, “You were never going to be the end of my story.” the girl clutched to the sword in the center of her chest, holding on dearly as if grasping onto her own life. Her eyes glowed with malice until the very end, growing dull, “Fuck you, Death Knight.” she hatefully forced out of her mouth as spit, blood, and malice rained down from her trembling lips. Her body gave out and went limp all the while Kaevia’s mouth hung agape at the scene that had just played out. Were they too late?

“Whitstan?” Kaevia sharply called out to him.

Was it even safe to try and go closer, was the area around what was once the field along the anomaly, safe? She had more questions than answers and it was evident in her tone. Whitstan’s eyes softened a bit, broken from his stoic gaze. “Kaevia…?” A tinge of regret flashed in his visage: Always. Always he wanted to keep the worst part of his personality out of sight from her. Sure, she knew he was capable of horrible things- it doesn’t mean he should subject her to it all. In the moment he was consumed by hate for his opponent. He swung his sword with the Exis attached toward Areus, an unnerving plopping sound released her from the runeblade as her lifeless body flew toward the Shadow Priest. “... Keep her alive, if you want.” Whitstan commented coldly.

Areus spread his arms out to catch the body but immediately regretted his decision resulting in preemptively sidestepping as Exis landed harshly along the ground, rolling several times on the dead grass before coming to an abrupt stop along a tree stump. Disturbed earth flew into the air sending dirt every which way on the path she carved with her landing, plate, bone, and flesh scraping against the ground along-the-while. Areus could swear he heard bones breaking at the motion as he cringed beneath his mask. He chuckled nervously as he scratched the back of his head, “Thought I could catch her because she was a bit on the small side, but… she’s wearing a lot of heavy stuff on that battle-plate-dress of hers.” He looked to Kaevia and shrugged. “Problem solved, little dove. I think. For now.” the man lit his pipe yet again. “Could’ve turned out a lot worse. Hey, we’re not all stuck in time, at least.”

The Priestess was quite shocked for a moment at the display but there was still that sense of responsibility even if...it wasn’t hers. Not her business -- but yet…

Heavy robes furled over the grass and Kaevia walked towards where Exis had remained, with a graceful couch and two careful fingers towards the woman’s neck she waited a beat, then two and three. For as still and terribly heavy as she seemed, Kaevia could have taken her for dead but it was her job as a Priestess who believed wholly in the Light to save who she could. Rolling the woman’s shoulder over she planted her hands towards the woman’s chest and bosom, nestling her palms into her rib cage and wound the best she could thanks to the mangled armor. The Light had come to Kaevia as it had done before in the past and with closed eyes, she prayed in chants, whispered words that filled the stale air around them.

Kaevia could never walk away to let someone die, no matter what their reasoning had been for drawing swords. A terrible burden but one she had welcomed when she took up the Holy Light. Being a Priest of both she could harbor both energies of Light and Shadow, being on the precipice of both without truly falling to the madness of either; a terrible price she often faced for dabbling in both.

Golden eyes opened and she stared across to Areus while the Light began to slowly fade, “We’ll take her back to the estate with us. See what I can do further. I know a woman quite versed with herbal remedies to heal just about any problem. We’ll get answers if we can save her and when she is well enough.” Kaevia stood and looked around the area. That man who had been scared off by her Uncle didn’t seem to be found anywhere though for good reason as she was sure he was off tending to wounds.

Exis’s vital dripped from her fingers and in a half turn, Kaevia regarded Whitstan once more, her tone not as surprised or gentle as before, “What happened?”

A pang of regret filled him as he felt like what could be blood rush to his face. It couldn’t have been though, he was dead. “She…” he held his head in one hand, sticking his runeblade into the earth with the other, trying to balance himself as he fell to a knee. Hundreds of thoughts flashed into his mind while he contemplated the situation he was in now. Only one thought led to the forefront much stronger than all the others: Kaevia. How long was he displaced and away from her? How did she find him? Was it merely coincidence or…? She had typically acted according to her nature, here and now healing a potential enemy- same as him, acting within his nature to nullify any threats before him. Yet still, both were like night and day. He found himself drawn to Kaevia due to their similarities but also because of their stark differences. He opened his mouth no less than three times to utter words to explain the situation but found himself unable to do so every time.

Areus commented dryly, “He’s suffering from a form of temporal dysplasia, they both are.” He seemed to synchronize his shadow-mending with his niece’s powers as he placed a hand on her shoulder. Luckily she could weave both Light and Shadow proficiently. He let out a sharp whistle, summoning the horses that had ran away. “Time is catching up to them both now. I’m not sure if you recall the groggy effect experienced by one suffering from a brief time-warp... but imagine that, except compounded by however long they’ve been in there.”

“And faced with the situation of one is dying and the one already passed.” Kaevia swiftly added. 

“I’ll load her up after you’re done, see if he can gather his wits about him and travel.” Areus continued. “I don’t know if I can make heads or tails of this situation but one thing is clear: we have to remain on our toes.” the man offered unsolicited advice as he often did before taking a long drag from his ornate pipe.

Kaevia looked away from Whitstan and her hand hovered out over Exis to where here hand continued a small glow until she could do no more, “Then we move and we hope that something comes of this. If more blows are to come then fate will have its way and I’ll keep from intervening.” with a nod of her chin towards Areus she bent to tuck her fingers along the woman’s chest plate, unlatching it to discard it completely along the ground and whatever came with the heavy belt she adorned as well, leaving Exis clothed but just barely. The Horse, of course, would have ridden much faster without the additional weight.

The Shadowpriest had hoped that his niece would try to talk sense into the discombobulated Knight of Acherus, but since that wasn’t an option at the moment he moved swiftly and gave a skip in his step to gain momentum. If Kaevia wouldn’t slap back reality into the disillusioned Death Knight, then he would. A loud smack echoed in the forest. Areus would grasp at his hand delicately for a moment before laying eyes on his target. “Hey. Back to reality? We really need to move... Unless you want Kaevia to leave you behind.” Whitstan appeared imbalanced but seemed to gather what semblance of sense he had left. He shook his head and looked to Areus, then back toward Kaevia before lifting his runeblade from the ground and securing it on his back. “Fine…” the man replied hatefully to the Shadowpriest. An arm shot out from the Death Knight while green sparks of lightning struck on the ground about him. He reconstituted bones laid to rest within the Black Forest to form a skeletal warhorse. “I… I’m fine. I’ll be right behind you....” he responded, looking to Areus and then back to the Priestess. Areus loaded the injured Paladin onto his horse before mounting it. “Well then…” he took another puff from his pipe. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

The return trip seemed abnormally silent. It took the concentration of both priests to keep the woman from death, and in their tow was the Death Knight responsible for her condition.

Silvia had seen to Exis’s rest within a room back at the Sun’rael estate. The trip hadn’t been easy but at least they had managed to secure a place for her and whether she lived or died, there was no point to leaving a woman to die in the Blackened Woods. Kaevia certainly had enough with trying to ensure no deaths happened there that she hadn’t a moment to slap the Death Knight herself, circumstances, after all, there were other pressing matters.

With a sigh, the door to the room closed as she left the visitor with Silvia. Determined footfalls found the floor and stairs when Kaevia returned sometime later to regard both Areus and Whitstan once more. Timerift discombobulation? She had never heard of it but hadn’t doubted it for there were crazier things in Azeroth to behold, “Imagine my surprise to find you gone for months only to receive a letter later detailing your whereabouts -- in this position no less.” Kaevia motioned towards Whitstan, tone anything but pleased but it certainly didn’t seem hateful, “Do you remember anything that happened?”

He shook his head a bit, “I was coming back from… something. Feels just like yesterday but so distant. I had something… important to do. I was on my way back here when I encountered that Paladin. She seemed keen on killing me. Felt personal. I don’t remember what she said but… I also don’t think I’ve ever met her before.” he seemed to be nursing a headache. “Months… that’s hard to believe…”

Areus slowly took a sip from his bourbon as he awkwardly watched the two in silence, limiting his motions as to not distract from the scene unfolding before him. There was no way he could tell which way this conversation would go, which entertained him further.

A low sigh escaped the Priestess and a hand lifted, fingers rubbing at her temple as she seemed to collect a moment of thought, “Turns out one of her family members contacted me - albeit later than they should have but they did so all the same. No doubt because they couldn’t figure out anything themselves and turned to us as a last resort. I’m sure had they found a way, It would be you in Exis’s place though in a different form, no doubt.” slowly her hand dropped and Kaevia took that moment to fully regard Whitstan.

“Are you alright? Is there anything we can see to getting for you? I would offer rest but I know it isn’t a necessity for you.”

He brought his hand up, as if trying to buy himself some time sifting through his thoughts. “I…” his voice was softer but his supernatural echo carried the words, “... maybe a drink. And… just… stay here with me for a little bit.”

That was all Kaevia needed and she hiked a brow in Areus’s direction with some measure of silence to her. If it was company Whitstan needed then she could at least oblige but hanging company wasn’t a necessity -- not now anyways. The small stand she kept near the window was always stocked, ripe with a variety of bourbons, whiskey and scotch which was more for the pleasure of visitors than herself though Kaevia did partake once in a while with a dash of bourbon in a glass.

Areus took the subtle cue from his niece as he bowed, he slowly backed away raising his mask and covering his face, a grin still visible beneath his features. He slinked away into the shadows as he often did, and in turn, they embraced him. “Good night… little dove…” he offered in a faint voice before absconding into the darkness.

Quietly she moved to the station and pulled a glass from the stack to fill it with amber liquid. A warmth that Whitstan wouldn’t have felt anyways regardless of how much he wished it. She often wondered how it tasted for him if at all anything. Perhaps it was just the action of it being a comfort more than the taste and feeling itself. Turning on heel, she held the drink out towards the Death Knight, “I hope that girl upstairs isn’t going to die for nothing.” she added. She had to. Something deep down inside of her bubbled forth with truths. Whitstan had killed many but a large part of her hoping this incident wouldn’t be over something trivial.

His hand shook as he took the glass. He couldn’t understand why his body was reacting this way. An undead shell simply moved forward through sheer willpower hesitated before he took the drink to his lips. “I… -you’re right… I hope she doesn’t die either.” he relented. He hung his head a bit, seemingly off from his normal disposition. He was always sure of himself, but lately it had seemed life had thrown more than a few things his way for him to contemplate and reevaluate. “Kaevia… I…” he reached to grasp at her hand with his own, his cold skin and touch slithering about her soft hand.

Hope she didn’t die either? In truth, Exis was in this position because Whitstan had put her there to begin with. Kaevia’s brow furrowed but she did not recoil from the touch Whitstan had offered her.

“I’m not sure if what I did was the right thing… I’m lost… at that fact. I don’t know if anything I’m doing is right… I just know that... “ he grasped at her hand tightly, “That -this- is right. That being around you makes me a better man-... that if I didn’t have you in my life I would unravel into something more dangerous. I… I wouldn’t let her have her way, she would have taken me from you.” his eyes focused and the swirl of blue in his eyes intensified as he looked to her, “I… can’t have that.” he answered solemnly. “Even if I had to kill her, I would’ve gladly done so again if the alternative was having to abandon you.” A tremble seemed to accent his grasp. “You… shape me into something more than just… some undead Knight. I-it gives me purpose. I won’t abandon that because of some stranger.”

“Family defends family, I understand the reasoning as I just might have done the same thing. Actually prepared to do so if necessary given the situation in the woods but I wanted to seek answers first. It seems as if though my Uncle however, had no intention on any of it. Perhaps I am far softer than I originally thought.”

To be continued... @whitstanwilhelm & @areussunrael for collab/mentions

[absurdistocchiolism]

random questions meme

  Rules: Answer the questions written by the person who tagged you and write 11 of your own.

Got tagged by @theticklishpear

1. If you could learn all the careers you ever wanted to be in a single year, what would you study?

My brain is all over the place! Physics of all kinds for a start. Astrophysics, quantum physics... also, marine biology, oceanography... astronomy for sure! Linguistics as something on the side too. Paleontology, holy hell, dinosaurs, gimme!!!

Ahem...like I said, all over the place.

2. Tomorrow’s the last day of the universe. You have 24 hours to do anything you want, no limits. What will you be doing in the last seconds of our universe’s existence?

In the morning I would want to just hop in a plane and just fly all over, even above the cloudline,  getting one last long look at the world.  Then at night, get as high into orbit as possible in said plane with an oxygen tank and throw myself out so I can finally get an unobstructed view of the Milky Way in all its splendor. It would be my last chance to look at it. Might as well go out just at the moment that it all goes.

3. First ever film you remember watching in a movie theater?

I cannot actually recall this in a movie theater. My earliest movie memory is of going to an outdoor drive-in with my family (mom, dad, brother) to see Jurassic Park. Its also my happiest memory, of the hour or two before the movie started, I would wander around the giant parking and the surrounding fields, looking for lost things in the sand/dirt/grass, eating treats I would otherwise never eat, and family troubles being (seemingly) far away....AND THEN BEING BLOWN AWAY BY THE SPECIAL EFFECTS OF THE MOVIE HOLY SHIT.

4. Have you ever met a celebrity/role model/king or queen and who was it?

Nah,but I did  get within a mile of the Dalai Lama once. There once was a group of Vietnamese immigrants who ended up buying an old boarding house near my own home (in the woods, the middle of nowhere!) and renovated it into a Buddhist temple. Maybe a year afterwards, the head monk, named Bon Dhat, came to see me at my house (we had met before, he was very friendly!) all excited and so happy because they had been blessed at their place of meditation with a visit from the Dalai Lama himself! I had never seen him so happy, and he was about the most cheerful person I had ever met.

So that’s how, while I was doing math homework and being more than a little miserable, I missed a visit from the Dalai Lama on my dirt-road street in rural Canada within a mile of myself. Oh well!

5. What do you do when you’re bored?

Read something, either a book or from the internet (usually Wikipedia). Play with my dog, write (bad, and very personal) poetry, try to write one of my stories, clean the house...eat...take a walk with my dog...ask myself existential questions...y’know, normal stuff...

6. What type of food would you sell if you opened a restaurant?

Ha, probably BBQ meals, literally from the grill because I’m good at it, with a specialty ‘dessert’ of thick bacon strips on-a-stick, with a variety of flavouring options for it. I might also try to find a way to replicate the taste of toast on an open fire camping-style. That has a unique flavor I just never get anywhere else. Maybe a camping-themed place? with everything cooked on an open fire! wooo!!

7. What year has been the best of your life and why?

I can’t pinpoint a year, mostly because my sense of time is just whack. But also because I haven’t really had a ‘good year’ ever since puberty, when the depression settled in along with the wild teenage hormones. So anytime before that, when I was free in the woods and pre-pubescent, was good I suppose.

8. How do you react when you see an animal pass by while walking down the street?

I always need to resist the urge to interact with any animal. But it also depends on the animal sometimes. Skunks? MUST SHOW DEFERENCE. Racoons?, Hey buddy, you want something to eat? Ravens? Those I always feel the need to ‘talk’ to. They are smart enough to have weird interactions with, and I love weird. So I chat up corvids in general. I miss the woods, when they were everywhere. Now the sight of any single one is a treat.

9. How would you survive the Hunger Games?

Uuuuuuuhhh, would I be able to kill children? Probably not. So my chances would be slim.

10. Would you rather live up to age 20 having lived the success of all your wildest dreams or live up to age 90 having lived simply a beautiful ordinary life?

‘Success’ is not an end goal for me, but living until 90 sounds daunting. Maybe if I could find a way to live in relatively good health for the duration of it without becoming a burden, I think I could make it worthwhile. But man, watching my elder relatives wither away, some to things like Alzheimer's, has not exactly given me great expectations for my own old age.

11. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but never have because of fear?

SKYDIVING. ACTUALLY DATE SOMEONE. TAKE A TRIP ON MY OWN. Touch a medusa (animal), those scare me because of ONE nightmare I had. But they’re beautiful, and I would like to face my fear of them at least once.

Okay, here’s my questions!

1. If you could invent a word in any language, what would it be and what would it mean? Noun, adjective or verb? Go wild!

2. Your ideal home, location , size, yard?, number of rooms, how many levels? Dream!

3. Your favorite quote/line from a book or movie or poem, and why? What does it make you feel?

4. You just inherited a billion dollars from an obscure and distant relative. Quick, what do you do with it?

5. What’s your motto, if you can think of one?

6.Oh shit! You can shapeshift! What’s the first thing you turn into?

7. You have an intergalactic ticket to go anywhere in the universe, where do you want to go?

8. What would you tell your younger self to get them encouraged to keep going on?

9. Wow, you are suddenly immortal and invulnerable to any harm! What’s the first thing you want to do and what would you spend eternity doing?

10. What was your strangest dream?

11. Funniest joke/story/pun you’ve ever heard?

I’ll tag @dragonhearted-clevergirl @theloveworthlivingfor @veliseraptor @rogueoftimeywimeystuff and @theticklishpear , if any of these questions appeal to you, feel free to answer them! as always , thanks for thinking of me!

[kyuuzuchiha]

under cut for length ><

tagged by: @orderisoutofstyle (mun and muse both are such amaze, pls follow)

tagging: @ofbonesandash @oftalonsandwinter @quartusinanis (is it annoying if I tag 3 of Salem’s blogs??) @mooninthehiddenmist @kusunokihime @kindandgentleolderbrother @bestia-dentro @phantomthievesjoker​ @malacusleana @frogprinceus​ @anyone-who-wants-to-do-this :D Please do, and tag me as your tagger so I can see it :3 If you did it already, lemme know cause boo-mun wants to seeeee~~

1. What does your muse smell like?

Naruto is a huge fan of watery scents as far as body wash or deodorant goes. He probably smells like some kinda food though to be honest. He may smell like some type of mint though, because he’s probably nervous about smelling bad.

Sasuke smells like earth--trees, dirt, the great outdoors. He smells like he’s been walking through a field of flowers, or laying in a bed of grass, or climbing a pine tree, or digging in the dirt.

2. How often does your muse bath/shower? Any habits?

Naruto probably showers like once every 2-3 days, unless he’s been training really hard. He’ll shower after every training session, and quite frequently during missions if he can. But if he’s not doing much and he doesn’t have a reason to, he won’t shower for a couple of days. He brushes his teeth almost compulsively though and will do a little “wet nap bath” to stay sanitary as possible between showers.

Sasuke is very clean. He definitely showers at least once a day, more if he has a reason to. He washes his hair like every other shower, but wets, conditions, and combs it every single time. If he can’t or doesn’t want to shower, he will still wash his hair, or at least wet and comb it. On missions, he will seriously stick his head in a stream just to comb it. He carries wipes with him so he can clean his hands and vital parts on missions that would require him to go without. His hygiene is highly on point. Boy is fresh and clean as can be in all aspects.

3. Does your muse have any tattoos or piercing?

Naruto in canon has his Eight Trigrams Seal, which is kinda like a tattoo? In modern aus, the seal is a tattoo on his stomach. In some verses, the whiskers on his cheeks are also tattoos. No piercings.

Sasuke in canon has his Cursed Seal of Heaven for some time, which is also kinda like a tattoo?? In some verses where seals like this don’t exist, the tomoe of the seal are tattooed on his body. No piercings, but I imagine in some modern verses, he’d be into it.

4. Any body movement quirks ( ex.knee shakes )? 

Naruto rubs at the back of his head, scratches at his cheeks, and throws out a thumbs up for almost no reason at times. He tends to throw his arm around people’s shoulders a lot, just to do it, and also elbow people too. He will even elbow the air sometimes, just out of habit.

Sasuke is pretty in control of his body, except his eyes. They’re quite expressive at times. He tends to narrow them a lot, even without obvious cause at times. If agitated or embarrassed enough, he can be caught chewing his lower lip or sometimes (in some verses) pressing against the pressure point between his thumb and forefinger.

5. What do they sleep in?

Naruto sleeps in loose underoos if he can. He’ll throw on a t-shirt for modesty’s sake if someone really insists on it. He generally has no shame about those things though. He is at a high risk of junk hanging out of his loose undies, but boy doesn’t even care.

Sasuke sleeps in nothing but tight-fitting underwear when alone. If not alone, he will sleep in a t-shirt and shorts. 

6. What’s their favorite piece of clothing? 

Naruto loves his orange hoodies my dudes. Seriously, any verse, boy can be caught loving his orange hoodies. I would say canon Naru loves his training gear most though. Naru in other verses just loves his casual hoodies.

Sasuke loves his button-up shirts the most. He kinda likes showing himself off a bit with a few open buttons if appropriate. Though, in canon, boy doesn’t care about being appropriate. Fuck practicality. His shirt is open no matter what LOL

7. What do they do when they wake up?

For Naruto, waking up ain’t easy. He’s gonna roll outta bed and shuffle with eyes closed to the bathroom. His first priority is going to the bathroom. Isn’t it that way with most people though? After that, he’ll go straight for some food. Immediately hungry.

The first thing Sasuke does after going to the bathroom and morning stretches is brush his teeth and wash his face or shower. This wakes him up quickly, and he appreciates that.

8. How do they sleep? position?

Sasuke tries to hold it together even in his sleep, but he has so many nightmares and insomniac nights that he just falls the fuuuuck out when he actually sleeps. His sleep is messy, fitful, and kind of wild. He likes sleeping on his back though.

Naruto is just a mess. He needs his sleep to keep up with his energy when he’s awake. He falls asleep fast, sleeps deeply, and sleeps long. He sleeps on his stomach and just twists and turns himself into a cocoon of blankets usually.

9. What do their hands feel like?

Naruto’s hands are probably comfortably temperatured. If he isn’t being his usual boisterous self, then his body temperature is probably low and his hands are cold. They’re a bit rough, cause he’s careless, and they’re strong.

Sasuke’s hands are warm, maybe even a bit clammy. Thanks to his rigorous hygiene, they’re dry. They’re also weathered from his tactical nature. Though, they’re somewhat soft from the lotion he tries to use, and definitely soft on the tops.

10. If you kissed them, what would they usually taste like?

If you’re lucky and Naruto was on a kick of being mindful, then spearmint or peppermint. If not, then chicken broth. XD

Sasuke would taste neutral I bet, if not like spearmint/peppermint of some sort. He brushes his teeth or rinses with mouth wash soon after nearly every meal so that his mouth is always neutralized. If he can’t, he will at least go use his finger with some water to clean out his mouth.

[ecotone99]

[HR] It Tried To Lure Me Outside

I’ve decided to record everything I know about this thing that has come from the woods. Once I finish typing I’m going to attempt to leave and make my way into town. My truck is maybe 40 feet from the front door. And the nearest town, Fairview, is about 30 minutes by vehicle. I’m not sure if it will even come for me. This is the third time it left a carcass by the cabin. First was a raccoon, second time was a coyote, and twenty minutes ago I found the remains of a black bear outside. A slow steam is still rolling off its corpse, dissipating into the night air.

I can’t sit here forever. It’s just, I don’t know, I’m scared. It knows I’m in here. I won’t patiently wait for it to finally come through the walls.

Currently, I am in a cabin in Mio, Michigan. The dirt driveway is close to a half mile long stretching far into the woods and ends into an open field where the cabin I reside in stands. I rented the cabin for a couple weeks so I could just have some time away. My phone lost signal about 10 minutes before arriving here but that was part of the idea. I wanted to be alone. I didn’t even bring a gun. I brought some hiking boots for fuck’s sake. I arrived a week ago and settled in quite nice. I spent the week walking through the woods, sitting by McCollum Lake as I drew in my notebook, and wrote music. I never felt alone but then again, I’m in the woods. There could be rodents, birds, or any number of woodland creatures just around the corner. I never would have suspected my intuition to be so correct.

It first made its self-known while I sat on the back porch one night. I noticed a flock of birds vacate a pine tree that abruptly shook far into the woods. I watched closely. The sun only just setting. I assumed a tree had fallen, perhaps hitting another tree nearby it. I finished my beer, stood up, turned on the lantern, and reached for another beer. I stared in the direction of the noise. I felt a sudden silence in my surroundings. As if every other creature of the night was staring in the direction of the fallen tree. Moments passed and crickets began to start chirping again and even the coyotes began yip, resuming their hunt. I thought nothing of it and finished my drink. I turned off the light and went to bed.

Some hours later I awoke to the sound of footsteps. Not inside my cabin but outside. I was reminded of the original dinosaur park movie. The cup of water shaking as the approaching footsteps of a prehistoric beast grew louder. I laid in bed and stared at the one window in the bedroom. The noise grew so loud I could hear things falling in the living room. I griped the covers and never removed my gaze from the closed blinds of my window. There was a pause and the rumbling steps began to subside. I could tell whatever it was had already stepped out of the open field in which my cabin stood and made its way back into the woods. I jumped out of bed and ran to the living room hopping over fallen knick-knacks and picture frames. Gripping the handle, I swung the front door open and stepped outside. I was overcome with the smell of rot. The body of a raccoon lay about 10 feet from me. I saw a trail of rustled grass and blood spots from the other side of the woods where the noise had first come.

My breath appeared in the cold night air as I was overcome with panic. I stepped back inside and closed the door but continued to look in the direction the footsteps disappeared. I couldn’t see anything other than trees and moonlight. I slowly creeped through the cabin, as if it could hear me or something, and made my way to my phone on the charger. I checked the signal. I already knew I didn’t have any but why not at least try. I searched the cabin for hunting gear of any kind until early morning. Nothing.

I sat in the living room holding my truck keys. “I have to run for it”, I mumbled to myself. “It knows I’m in here, right? Why else would it drop the raccoon outside the cabin?”, I thought. Maybe it was returning with a fresh kill but misplaced it. Also, what is IT?! We don’t even get moose this far south of the Upper Peninsula. I walked to the liquor cabinet and grabbed the first bottle and poured a shot. Somehow city life didn’t seem so bad.

The sun rose and the day went by. I began to grow uneasy. “Come on. Just run for the truck, open the door, start the engine, and floor it”, I repeated to myself as I stood outside the cabin on the small porch leading to the grass. I clutched the truck keys. Four times now leaned by body weight in the direction of my truck as if about to throw a leg up and begin to run. My shoulders rose to my neck as I heard a sudden nostril flare off to my left. There it was, standing as still as a statue and looking right at me.

The being was massive. Easily nine feet high and five feet from shoulder to shoulder. It could wrestle a moose to the ground. It stood on two legs and was covered in sticks, blood, and fur. It’s jaw hung low and slowly dripped slobber. It’s massive frame moved up and down with every breath it took. The air leaving it’s body would ever so slightly move the branches of the tree right beside it. The head looked like a deer mixed with a wolf. It had antlers but were broken off on one side. It’s eyes were hollow. Voids of darkness. It was holding a coyote in one hand. The coyote was clawing and trying to flee but was already missing limbs.

I’ve seen enough. I stepped back towards the front door, opened it, and rushed inside. I closed the door and began to hear the footsteps approaching. Faster this time. With this speed it could have easily gotten me before I could have reached my truck. I shook my head and focused. I lunged for a knife from the kitchen but was too late. It had reached the cabin and slammed down the coyote onto the ground. I could hear it hit the dirt. I held the knife and dove under the kitchen table. The footsteps already were leaving. I sat there shaking. I realized the power this thing had. It could easily have broken down the door and mauled me before I even turned around with the knife. I’ll never leave this cabin alive.

Hours have passed since then and suddenly night is upon me. I decided to text everyone I know and tried calling every emergency number possible. My phone isn’t even using roaming bars. My laptop has a full battery but that obviously isn’t any good without internet. I made myself eat some lunch meat and drink some water. I begin shaking when I walk around the cabin. Every time I step on a board that creaks, I’m terrified to hear those footsteps again. The speed the creature has is remarkable. And to my horror I see that it can be very quiet too.

As I scoped the route to my truck for the hundredth time I noticed the remains of a black bear sitting outside my door. I never once heard the thundering steps approach the cabin. It’s just toying with me. I’ll save what I have written on my laptop now. Maybe it doesn’t even want to kill me. It doesn’t matter. I can’t stay here anymore. I love you Hannah. I’m so glad you weren’t able to come with me

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

State of Michigan PT444fffjd3234

DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE

Pursuant To Penal Code §9945003

MISSING PERSON REPORT

Nathaniel Bridge Missing since: 8/24/19

Reported by Muskegon Resident Hannah Glover

Local airbnb reported missing tenant and rolled over truck. All tenants possessions were left in cabin.

Items found include:

(2) Blankets (1) Pillow (1) Wallet (1) Identification Card (1) Lenovo Laptop (5) Granola Bars

Missing person(s) truck found 1 mile from cabin site. Rolled and dismantled. No Body Found.

submitted by /u/IWnaBNkd [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2zM4h2u