wooden club

Sisters in the snow

posted by reddit user MCDexX

I remember it like it was yesterday, although it was decades ago.

My sister and I had been fighting again, like we did so often, like I suspect most sisters do at that age.

This fight got more heated than usual. I screamed an obscenity at my sister before turning to storm out of the room, but then my neck suddenly whipped back painfully and I realised she was yanking my hair. In pain and shock, I spun around and slapped her hard across the face.

Keep reading

For Sixpenceee-Glitch in the Matrix (personal)

My Best Friend Never Existed

Her name was Alex. And I swear to god she was real. She was my best friend in the 1st grade. Most people shake me off when I tell them that I knew her when I was just six or seven, because it’s hard to remember things at that age. True, I may not remember a lot of things from my first grade adventures, but I sure remember her. She was my best friend. She was beautiful (as beautiful as a 1st grader can be, at least). I remember her short blonde hair, her hazel-green eyes, and the red hoodie that she wore almost daily. She was fun, mischievous, and sad. There were problems at home, especially with her dad. She lived with her mom, as her parents were divorced. Now that I’m older, I think that her dad abused them. She was usually upset about her dad waiting outside on the lawn in the mornings to apologize and her mom arguing with him until he left. We would play adventure games on the swings and watch over the playground from the top of the highest slides. I spent every second with her. We sat together at lunch and in class and we read next to each other during reading time. I never went to her house in fear that her father would show up, but I distinctly remember her spending the night at my house. We would make blanket forts and spy on my older sister to hear the latest 5th grader gossip. We spent most weekends together. She came to my seventh birthday too. I remember making her invitation special, just for her, with stickers and special notes on the inside. I know she was there. She destroyed the pinata with a few swings and everyone else was upset with her because she ruined their turn. We grabbed all of the candy our shirts could carry and ran away from the birthday crowd into the “Girl’s Club,” a wooden shed that my dad had put carpet into so that we could have a special place. I remember when she fell off the monkey bars and broke her arm. My dad was on the playground visiting and helped her to the nurse’s office. Her cast was pink. I signed it. Then, one day, when we were waiting to be picked up after school, she seemed upset when her car pulled up. She said that it was her dad picking her up. We said our goodbyes and gave best friend hugs and then she got into the car.

That was the last day I ever saw her. I never questioned whether she was real or not until a few years ago. My aunt is a teacher at my old elementary school and sometimes she has get togethers with other teachers, both retired and currently employed. One day I ran into my 1st grade teacher at one of these get togethers and started to talk about how crazy I was in the 1st grade. When I mentioned Alex, my teacher’s face turned blank. She had no idea who I was talking about. I reminded her that we spent every second together—practically inseparable. But she still hadn’t a clue. She told me that I spent most of my time talking to students around the class and spent most of my recesses inside to read—I never really hung out with just one person, apparently. I mentioned the monkey bars incident. What’s scary is, and everyone agrees with this, I was the one who fell off the monkey bars and I have no recollection of this. I decided to ignore her cluelessness, as she was growing old and had probably lost some memory. Still, I was a little put off by her inability to remember Alex, so I decided to ask some friends that I went to elementary school with. No one knew who she was or remembered her ever being my friend or even going to our school. I tried to recall as many things about her physical appearance that I could, but every person I spoke with denied her presence at our school, including other teachers. This is where things turned strange. I decided to check in the yearbook, so that I could show everyone her picture and jog their memories. I remember picture day; we traded lip gloss tubes. As much as I looked, she was not in the yearbook. I looked through every page, at every photo, and every caption in hopes of finding her picture, her name, anything. She wasn’t there anywhere. I resulted in asking my parents if they remembered my friend Alex in the 1st grade. They told me that I didn’t have any friends named Alex. I had a few imaginary friends, but I’m positive that she was real. Imaginary friends don’t break pinatas. They don’t break arms and have casts that your classmates signed. They don’t trade lip gloss with you. She was real. She was real… I looked through our VCR tapes for a video of my 1st grade birthday party, but the film was ruined. The hard drive that carried the photos from that party was dropped and destroyed a few months before my search for my old friend. It’s like she never existed.

My best friend never existed.

Gemsona weapon ideas

coming up with a gemsona weapon can be hard if you want to use something unique rather than the basic medieval weapons everyone knows about. so here are some interesting weapons i have found for anyone to use.

This is a Khanda, an Indian sword with a flat tip that can be used with either one hand or two hands.

This is a Mere, calling is a club would be misleading. it was used by Maori warriors and is made mostly from gemstone.

the Chinese Three barrel pole gun is one of the earliest guns to ever be made.

The Kanabo is a club used by samurai to crush things. 

The Bhuj is sometimes called “The Axe Knife” since it is just a knife on a short handle. it also holds a small blade hidden in the handle.

the Atlatl & Tlacochtli is basically a giant arrow connected to a short stick that lets you throw it farther and more accurately.

The Iwisa is a wooden club use by the Zulu warriors of southern/eastern Africa

The Burda is a Celtic club used to smash things, that’s all.

Emei Peircers are tiny spears attached to rings that allow it to spin around, often used with one on each hand.

the Roman scissor is really just turning your arm into an axe

the Wushu Whip Chain is like a whip but made of metal.

and lastly we have the Zhua, which is just a metal claw on the end of a huge stick. i cannot find any good pictures of this so this sketch will have to suffice.

There’s smoke upon the wild berry shrub,
It’s voice a scorched, wooden club,
Beating and chanting harder and higher.
Where do I escape this bush of fire?
My feet flee, but I’m unable to snub.

This burning bush, a smothering hub.
The char in my throat, I never can scrub.
Flames engulf with the heat of their ire.
There’s smoke upon the wild.

Flames cry, “You are home, I thee dub.”
Until, there is nothing but a stub.
“Let me in, ‘tis my desire.”
This worn and wrecked funeral pyre,
Nothing left, no kindling to sub.
There’s smoke upon the wild.

Sidlink Drabble 6

UM. This is a lot longer than I expected it to be. BUT yeah. This is my play on if Sidon were Hylian and Link a Zora. I’ve been meaning to write it, BUT after seeing Gummysquid’s amazing designs for them that priority got bumped up QUITE A BIT.

You can also read it on Ao3 here. I was thinking about making it its own post there, but nah I’m lazy.

Reiner was getting impatient, Sidon noticed. The white stallion flicked his head back and forth and whinnied as Sidon gently tugged on his reins. It was strange: Reiner was typically a much more mellowed horse, which was the main reason he decided to bring him out of all the Royal Family’s horses.The stallion never disobeyed Sidon’s commands in all his time of riding with the prince, so it was concerning that Reiner kept trying to veer off the lonely path leading from Hyrule Market to Zora’s Domain.

With a frown, Sidon sighed and tugged Reiner to the right. Perhaps if he gave Reiner a short break, the horse would feel better.

“Why, Reiner. This is my first, important mission to get a working relation with the Zora people!” he chastised the horse as he gently yanked the reins and steered the stallion to a halt. He climbed down, gave a reassuring pat to his flank and reached inside the satchel attached to Reiner’s saddle. He pulled out one of the horse’s favorite treats–an endura carrot–and held it out for the steed. “Surely you understand that I need this to work perfectly, since Mipha entrusted me to go alone, correct?”

The horse snorted and quickly chomped into the thick carrot. Sidon smiled, reached for the horse’s soft yellow mane and brushed his fingers through the nice and straight hair. The Hylian prince carried his glance past his steed’s body and eyed the lush, colorful grasses of Hyrule field. It was a cool summer morning; the sun was only starting to rise and a damp mist rolled along in the air. He had already gotten a few hours knocked out of the way of his journey, but Hyrule castle still lingered in the distance and looked much closer than it really was.

Keep reading

Satin Skirts and Wooden Shoes

The prompt for responding-“This story is almost a think experiment. So today, I’d like you to think if any other fairy tales could be told in reverse and end up changing everything.”

First of all, I love the reversal of the Cinderella story in this. I don’t want to mention more because this one will be spoiler-free, but I loved it. The story aside, I feel like most stories would at least be intriguing in reverse. For example, The Little Mermaid (Disney version) in reverse would have a princess just wanting to live under the sea. Flipping the tale (pun not intended) for most stories gives you a story of freedom and independence. That’s part of why I like this so much. I’m personally not a big fan of the classic Cinderella story because she just sits there and waits for life to happen. Being kind has its place and you should love your enemies, but waiting for a fairy godmother is not the best life strategy.

Vox Machina: child edition

Vex’ahlia, eyes wide with the moon hanging full overhead in the forests, curious and learning slowly that the night holds no dangers for nature, nor one who knows nature itself, ignoring the cautionary stories of the dark more and more every day as leaves slowly crunch beneath her feet and her fingers brush bark

Vax’ildan, clinging to corners, his dagger dull and ill-fitted in his smaller hand, eyes sharp on the coin purses on hips with a hunger deeper than any rumble in his belly, desperate to do more than hide but unsure of how to proceed, eager to escape the shadows of the city and embrace them all the same

Percy, pilfered falconer’s leather gloves and smudges, stiff in the shoulders and hating the rigor with which such posture was imposed, channeling all frustration into the precision of trinkets and spokes and switches left mostly-finished before moving on, idea after idea flowing out where words fail him

Scanlan, back already used to bending over work, swinging his feet and humming as he tightens the loosening strings in the old instrument cradled in his lap, strumming once, twice, turning a knob, and smiling with tired satisfaction as he takes a moment to play for no one but himself and disappear into the melodies for a few minutes

Tiberius, scrunched into a corner with his knees drawn up and feet resting one over the other to stave off the cold of the floor, a too-large book resting on his lap full of old text with faded ink and cracked maps, hands running over the images with reverence for the secrets of the world

Grog, knees hitting the ground hard over and over, covered in sweat and soreness, lungs burning as one of the herd nudges a wooden club toward him with a foot, blistered hands making a fist in the sand before yanking himself up and charging with rage, taunts becoming cheers, head caught between anger and the gut feeling that there must be other ways to live

Pike, waiting with a face of wicked sunshine in some hidden place, quiet feet waiting for opportunities to surprise her uncle as the days wear on into nights, worshiping eyes gazing with solemn anticipation up at the night sky, feeling so small yet so big as she whispers the name of a deity and feels a fire in her chest she knows she will understand more one day

Keyleth, sneaking away in the morning sunshine, hopping across rocks in the river with unadulterated joy, climbing to the tops of trees to breath in the air, letting her lungs grow strong on the smell of it as her hair whips around, eyes squinting hard to spot the end of the horizon and wondering if her feet will ever reach such a place

Not Dead Yet (Part 5)

*Not that much interaction between our lovely “couple” this chapter but some good bonding with the Lost Boys and some potential foes. Things are cooking!*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warnings: mild language, allusion to sexual assault (very minor)

After a few wrong turns and almost running headlong into a ginormous spider web I made it back to camp. The boys were still partying the night away. Do none of them know what sleep is? Speaking of…

“Hey, Devin.” I pulled him away from the others, “Where exactly does one find a place to sleep around here?”

“Turning in already?”

“I’ve had a busy day, I think some sleep is just what I need.”

“Okay, well, thankfully we already took care of that for you.” Devin led her to the near outskirt of the camp where a lone tent stood. “Nick and some of the others built this while you were out swimming. It has a cot, some blankets and a change of clothes we thought might fit you. Nothing major but it’s yours.”

“Thank you, you guys didn’t need to do that.”

“We do it for all the new recruits.” Devin shrugged, “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you.” I crawled into my little tent and took it in. It was a very simple living station. Aside from the mentioned blankets and clothes there was also a lantern fashioned from a coconut half and a cracked handheld mirror. The mirror was really unnecessary but a nice, if not slightly sexist, contribution to the tent.

I kicked off my shoes and stripped off my clothes until I was left in my undershirt and knickers. I hadn’t realized until after I was in a confined space just how hot it was on this island. I laid down on the cot using the unused blankets as a pillow and fell asleep to the muffled sound of the drums playing back in the center of camp.


When I woke up the next morning I had to take a moment and remember where I was. I wonder how long it’s going to take me to get used to waking up in a tent. I grabbed the set of clothes the boys left for me and pulled them on. A little loose but that wasn’t a problem.

I stepped out of my tent to grab some breakfast and was not in the least surprised to see no one else was up. After that late night I would be genuinely shocked if any of them were awake this early.

Taking advantage of the quiet I found where they kept the stores of food, grabbed a couple apples and wandered off into the jungle for a morning walk. What am I even supposed to do here? They say it’s a fantasy realm where you can have fun all day everyday but I can genuinely say that as of this moment I am bored out of my mind.

What am I supposed to do with all this free time? All I’ve ever done is work. Without any work to do or books to read I am at a complete loss.

I eventually made it to a different beach and sat down in the sand. I pulled my dagger from its sheath and studied it in the morning light. It was as simple as daggers come. Sharpened stone with a leather bound grip. There was something carved at the bottom.

R. Just R.

Was this someone else’s before they gave it to me? If so then what happened to its last owner? Did I even want to know?

What was it Pan said when I met him? That I should be lucky to see this place and live? I sheathed the small blade once more. This island had already instilled a sense of unease but with every passing interaction with its leader and the questions it raises the more danger I feel I’m in. A part of me is screaming to get off this island. Run back to the Enchanted Forest and never look back!

Then again, there is a part that does kind of like this place. The boys, at least the ones I’ve met so far, are friendly. It’s like a big family unit that I get to be a part of. There are no adults to boss me around or harsh chores that needed tending to. I should give it a few more days before deciding if I truly want to find a way to leave.

I went back to the camp and was pleased to see that some of the boys had finally woken up. I looked for Devin but didn’t see him amongst the multiple faces. I did see Nick though and stuck by him for the morning. I thanked him and the other boys for making my tent. Again they told me it wasn’t a problem and quickly drew me into a story about a one legged pirate and the legend of his golden treasure chest. I was getting into the tale too before the rest of the camp woke up and suddenly story time was over.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“Training.” Nick shrugged. “We do it every morning before it gets too hot.”

“Oh right,” I remembered what they had told me yesterday about the combat practices they did, “Why do you guys train like this anyway? Neverland really that dangerous?”

“More dangerous than you’d think girly.” Another boy brushed past me. He was about my height with long mousy brown hair tied back with a string of leather.

“Who you calling girly?” I snapped at him and he glanced back to glare at me with only one dark brown eye.

“I’m calling you girly, girly. You may have the others fooled into thinking you’re one of us but you’re really just a weakling that’s only good for digging a ditch.”

“Excuse you? I’ll show you who’s a weakling!” I grabbed a tree limb off the ground and swung it hard at the boy’s head. He caught it and spun it around so fast that I tumbled to the ground. The other boys stopped their conversations as they watched the confrontation going down.

“Like I said, weakling.” the boy broke the branch over his knee, “Try to stay out of my way.”

“You little–” I bolted up but was restrained by Nick.

“Don’t let Slightly get to you. He’s been like that for as long as anyone can remember.”

“Slightly? What kind of a name is Slightly?

“What kind of a name is Y/N? You don’t have to be what you were named. A lot of the boys have different names than from when they were first brought here. You could change yours too if you wanted.”

“No thanks, I’ll stick with Y/N.”

We came to a clearing and the boys broke off into groups. Archers, spear-wielders, swordsman, and so forth. “Wondering where to go?” Pan was suddenly at my side.

“Kind of…” I fiddled with my dagger, “The closest I’ve gotten to weaponry and combat was my shovel and an incident with a wolf.”

“You fought off a wolf with a shovel?”

“What else was I supposed to do? Offer it a belly rub?”

“You’re really aggressive in the mornings aren’t you?”

“Only when you’re around.”

“Well,” he whirled me around, “Knowing your past experience I’d say you should join them.”

“The boys with the clubs?”

“Well it’s the closest we have to a shovel without actually using shovels. So, off you go.” he pushed me forward, “Also, if you have trouble or the others give you a hard time don’t go complaining or I will give them permission to beat the living hell out of you.”

“Aren’t you just the definition of charming.”

“I don’t tolerate pansies on my island.”

I had a biting remark on my tongue but held it back. Telling the leader of a pack of lethally trained boys that: if he didn’t tolerate pansies then he shouldn’t be there, didn’t seem like the smartest idea.

“You don’t need to worry about me. I learned not to complain a long time ago.” I muttered and walked over towards the boys that were practicing with the clubs. It was only a small group, Felix and some others I had only seen in passing but hadn’t talked to.

“Look who decided to stop by.” Felix grinned, “You wanna try this, really?”


“It takes a lot of muscle power.”

“I think I can handle it.”

“If you say so. Then let’s get you started.” he whistled and one of the boys handed me a club. It was a couple inches shorter than what I was used to holding and a lot more top heavy.

“Trick to using a club correctly is shifting your weight.” Felix explained to me, “If you don’t have a strong stance when you’re fighting then someone can use your weight against you and you’re down.”

He stepped back and spread his arms out. “Go on, show me your best swing.”

“Okay,” I tried to dig myself into what I thought was a strong stance like he said and swung. Without as much as a bat of his eyes he shifted out of the way, slammed my club back with his and for the second time that day the momentum of the hit sent me spiraling to the ground.

“A strong swing but also very clumsy, slow and blaringly obvious.” Felix leaned over me, “You have the power but you do not possess the technique. Not yet anyway. Get up.”

I stood up and and recollected my club. “What do I do?”

“Put your weight into it. That way all the power will be on the other end of the club. Go again.” I went again and again and everytime I swung he blocked it and every other time I ended up on the ground.

The entire morning went on like this. Steadily trying to get better and turning black and blue in the process. No matter how much I improved it was just never quite enough. I was still too predictable, too slow. Eventually Felix got tired of trying to teach me and handed it off to a large boy with a thick gut named Curly. Curly was a lot more patient than Felix but didn’t hold back any either.

When the sun was almost directly overhead we were finally done. In a word I felt miserable. I was used to long work don’t get me wrong but there’s something about getting constantly pummeled with a wooden club that adds to the exhaustion. I would be lying if I said the experience didn’t stir up some bad memories.

I pushed them away as the boys and I headed back to camp for lunch and rest. Now that practice was out of the way we had the entire rest of the day to do whatever we wanted. Seeing as how I was drenched in sweat I decided that my downtime was going to include a cool dip.

Coming back to the pond I had bathed in the day before I stripped down and hopped in once more letting the water wash away the grime I had built up during training. I was up to my neck just soaking it in when I heard voices behind me. I turned my head and saw Devin, Nick and some of the other boys walking my way. They stopped upon seeing me.

“Problem boys? Can’t handle a naked girl?” I smirked at them. “Nothing you haven’t seen before, right Devin?”

“We didn’t know you were back here. We’ll just–”

“Just what? You really think I care if you dopes see me nude? Besides what’s between your legs there’s not a whole lot of difference. Or are you so hormonal that the sight of my bare chest will turn you into raving beasts?”

They became quiet and I rolled my eyes. “Stay. Leave. Jump in. I don’t care.” I relaxed back against the pond wall.

“I’ll take up that offer.” one of the boys shrugged, “Could use a soak.”

“Ben!” Devin held him back, “You’re not seriously going to jump in, are you?”

“Why not? She said it was okay.”

“Yeah. I’m fine with it.”

“So you’d be fine if say the entire camp decided to come and hop in while you are in there without a strip of clothes on?”

“As long as none of them try to assault me then I don’t see any harm.”

“I’m heading in.” the boy, Ben, jumped in. After a few tense seconds the other boys looked at each other and hopped in as well. They were awkward about it for the first couple minutes but relaxed after we started cracking some jokes.

Maybe an hour went by and my fingers and toes were looking awfully wrinkly. “I think I’m done for today.” I hopped out and the boys made some cheeky comments.

A loud whistle sounded from across the pond and my head snapped to the source. Pan was standing there watching our group with an amused smile. What was more unsettling though was his gaze on me. I know I didn’t care about the boys seeing me naked but Pan…it felt wrong. I didn’t want that creep seeing me like this, not that I’d let him know that.

“Get a good look?” I called across to him as I started to put on my clothes.

“Not much to look at.” he called back and the simmering anger below my skin started to bubble once more.

“Stop commenting on your reflection, I’m over here.” I said and even from this distance I could see the annoyance flash across his features. Devin and the others were failing at hiding their amusement as I pulled on the rest of my clothes and sauntered back to camp.

Leaving Pan alone with his sniggering Lost Boys and the knowledge I had soundly irked him I began to smile. I’m starting to think I can really like it here. So long as Pan continues to be so easy to mess with that is.

(Part 1) (Previous) (Next)

Gaelic Polytheist Prayers and Offerings by Bearded Boggan

Saint-felicity asked for GaelPoly prayers, offerings and myths so I decided to offer up a few of my own works and experiences.  I hope they help or inspire! 

A simple offering prayer:

I give this offering to the three,

Ancestors, gods and spirits.

I give this offering freely within the three,

Land, sea and sky.

I give this in thanks for your guidance, wisdom and presence,

With reverence, respect and pride.

From my hands to yours,

Be welcome and be honored.

An Imbolc prayer:

With snow’s first retreat and the heralding of spring’s dawn,
We give praise and welcome to you, Brighid.
With imbas and tending of flame,
We give praise and welcome to you, Brighid.
With reed and the cross of your forging,
We give praise and welcome to you, Brighid.
With poetry and adorations of your deeds,
We give praise and welcome to you, Brighid.
Welcome, Lady of Poetry, Healing and Creation,
Welcome and be celebrated this Imbolc day.

Suggested Offerings:

Brighid: incense, water, Brighid crosses made of reeds, grass, pipecleaners, etc, scones or bannocks, beer, poetry, music

Manannan Mac Lir: Reeds, whisky, shells, driftwood crafted goods, boats, well cooked fish, clever jokes/puns

Dagda: Porridge/oatmeal, beer, whisky, food stuffs in general, clubs, wooden goods, art

The Morrigan/Macha/Badb: broken weapons buried or left in offering (letter openers shaped like swords make great votives!), charred meat, whisky or other hard liquors, skulls (fake or otherwise), raven feathers, beef

(All these offering suggestions are found in books like those written by Morgan Daimler and Erynn Rowan Laurie about Irish Paganism, the Morrigan and Brighid and in my own practices and experiences/UPG.)



The sphinx is a huge beast with a woman’s face, the wings of an eagle and the haunches of a lion. It has a magical singing voice that can lull those near to a peaceful slumbering death. Its sharp talons are also deadly.

The sphinx’s singing voice can be life-threatening if precautions are not taken. It can also take off into the air and dive to the ground to attack its foes.


Trolls are ugly huge brutes lurking in the woods. They are more intelligent than other giants, and will throw barrels of explosive powder at their foes to blind them. Trolls’ shoulders and back are covered by poisonous moss.

The troll is armed with a huge wooden club, which it will use to strike at its prey. When clambering upon the beast, watch out for the poisonous particles emitted by the moss on the troll’s shoulders and back.

(better res pics than those previously posted here and here)

Atlas Colosseti

He is big, almost 8 foot (2.4m) tall and weighing 400 lbs (200 kg) and its all muscle

He is a calm man, he avoids conflict whenever he can but if he can’t, well, let’s just say he has a wooden club just for the occasion, Heracles styleHe has the ability Stamina, so he gets tougher every time you hit him yet he has a softer side, he likes music and even plays the flute, which is hard considering how big his hands are, but he has a big flute too… no innuendo intended…
Hounds of Justice (Part 9)

Originally posted by screaaaaaaam

A/N: Back with the big boss!

Pairings: Roman X Dean x Seth X Reader 

Warnings: Swearing 

Song: It’s Not Supposed To Be That Way, By Waylon Jennings and No Use In Crying, By The Rolling Stones.

Tagging: @ashleyh28 @taliacz13 @awesome-ambrose-world @greygirlambrose @wonderholicc @unstablefuture @crazysparklydragon @gimmetatsandharleysanyday @holliemoxley @jasli123 @5sosfam666 @wweoneshotsbycharlie @mrsjonmoxley @sanazebreigns @loveyoujas @rocker-girl90 @blueblazezz @wwefoever70 @reignsfan77 @sarahmatthews7 @unstableambrosegirl @kcb-bck and @dontfretimashieldette

“I loved you…I fucking loved you…” There, you said it. He knows it. He knows that you loved him.

Roman stood there, staring at you. His face only showed he was angry, nothing more. “I didn’t know what else to do, Y/N,” Roman growled.
“It’s called talking Roman! You could have talked to me! You could have just said!” You yelled. You have enough of this, of him.

“You wouldn’t have listened!” Roman yelled.

You ran a hand through your hair angrily. “You know what! It doesn’t matter anymore! You cheated, you broke my heart. It doesn’t matter. Just leave, go. Go find someone else to help, I can’t. I can’t help you. Because just looking at you, breaks my heart all over again….” You said. You took a few steps back, shaking your head. Dean, who you have forgotten was there, stepped around Roman, and you didn’t miss the dirty glare Roman shot him.

“Y/N/N, can I just talk to you? Roman can stay out here, and we can talk inside.” He said, standing in front of you, gently wiping away your tears.

You clenched your jaw. “I don’t want to..” Dean gave you pleading eyes. “Please?” With a hard glare, you walked inside, Dean right behind you. “What do you want from me? What does he want from me!?” You asked. Dean tapped his finger on his collarbone. “Here’s the thing. You kinda gotta come to the clubhouse to talk about it. It’s a whole club kinda thing.” He said. 

You looked at him like he was nuts. “You just said-” Dean cut you off. “I know what I said! But I can’t tell you anything, it’s against the club rules. Okay? I’m the V.P. It has to be the President to tell you this.” You shook your head. “No then. I’m not going to be anywhere near him. I hate him.” Dean pulled you in for a hug. “ I know you do. But we need your help.”

You don’t know how, but Dean managed to get you to agree to come along with them. You rode on the back of Dean’s bike. When you pulled up at the clubhouse, you got off and then Dean. You walked behind Roman into the clubhouse. Seth, Randy, Taker all look at you as you walked in and into the room where they had their meetings. Roman held the door for you, as you walked in. Shutting the door behind you, so no one else got in. 

The table in the middle of the room was big, wooden and had the club Hell Hound carved in the middle, taking up the entire table. It was amazing. 

Roman leaned against the table, watching you as you looking at the table in awe. He wanted nothing more in that moment then to grab you by the hips and pull you in for a kiss. Hug you and tell you he loved you, but he knew you wouldn’t like it very much. 

“So what is it that you want from me?” You asked, turning to look at him. Roman cleared his throat. “The Kings are in the area again, I’m worried about you, Wade was with them and I don’t want him doing anything to you.” 

You were glaring at him. “So this isn’t about helping out, this is about you wanting me in your room.” Roman sighed. “No! You are liked by everyone in the club. Everyone is worried about you…. The fights, the shootouts with The Kings are getting worse. We went into Kings County and they have come into ours. I need you here. Helping out with patching my men up, cooking, cleaning. Just helping out until this stops. And I don’t want you in that house alone.”

You laughed. “Oh, my god. I’m not doing this. I have a job. I have a life. I’m not cleaning, cooking, patching men up. I work, I have bills, and I don’t want to be around you.” Roman just stared at you. “I mean is this the thing you had to tell me? Couldn’t Dean do it? I’m sorry Roman, but I’m not doing this.” You went to leave the room, but Roman grabbed you by the arm.

“You don’t have a choice, Y/N. You’re not leaving this building until The Kings are dead.” You glared at him. “You aren’t my father! You can’t make me stay somewhere I don’t want to!” You said.

“Dean and Seth are already at your house, getting your things. You aren’t going to be able to leave. You will stay here for as long as I need you to.” Roman said, with a shrug. “You motherfucker! You are such an asshole! Why did I ever love you! You are so annoying! Oh, my god! I’m not fucking staying here and you can’t make me!” You said, folding your arms.

“Watch me, Y/N. Watch me make you.” He growled.

You watched Seth and Dean move you bags into your room. They had got your clothes and a few other things of yours. Roman and you got into a screaming match, you slapped him and tried to leave, he grabbed you. You aren’t 100% sure what happened after that, all you know is that he threw you over his shoulder and carried you to your new room, kicking and screaming every curse word that you could manage.

The room was much like the others. Dark blue walls, dark wood floors, a queen size bed in the middle of the room, white sheets and a black bedspread. With a window above it and nightstands on either side of bed with lamps on them, and a chest of drawers with a TV and radio on it. You had a small closet and your own bathroom. 

They dropped your bags at the foot of the bed, before leaving the room. Dean wouldn’t even look you in the eyes. Roman stood in the doorway. “I have men posted at the doors. So try and leave, you’ll just end up back in this room.” With that he left, shutting the door behind him.

You just laid in the room, looking up at the ceiling for hours. You loved him, but you hated him. Does that make sense? No. No, it doesn’t. Can you love someone so much that you hate them? Can one person make you tell them you love them one minute, make you tell them your feelings, and then piss you off and make you want to punch them in them in the face in the next minute? Is that what loves is? If it is, you didn’t want it. 

There were three knocks on the door, then it opened. “Dinner time,” Roman said. You didn’t even bother to look up. “Not hungry.” You said. You heard him sigh. “You can’t starve yourself. You need to eat, you’ve been here all day.” He said.

“It’s my body, I’ll do whatever I want with it.” You said. “You’re a fucking child you know! For fuck sakes!” You sat up. “Coming from the man who didn’t get his way so he’s forcing me to stay here!” You yelled. He shook his head. “You don’t even get it! I love you! I’m doing this for you! I’m keeping you here so you don’t end up face down in a ditch!” He yelled. 

“Did you ever think that maybe I want to end up face down in a ditch! Because it would be a lot better than living my life loving you and never being able to be with you!” You yelled, standing up. Roman looked at you, his face was hard. “You picked not being with me.” He said. You looked at him like he was an idiot. Which he was.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?! What the fuck is wrong with you!? You! You picked it! I was happy being at your side! I would have done whatever it was that you wanted! Because I…I thought you were different than my ex! You aren’t! You’re just the same! A cheating, rotting son of a bitch!” You yelled. The anger was bubbling over, everything just seemed to be flying from your mouth before you could stop it. 

“I hate you! Just…Just get the fuck away from me!” You yelled. That was when Roman’s perfectly place mask of emotionless nothingness was broken, his face fell and he looked so….sad, broken. He left the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. You just stood there, staring at the door, your own mask of anger broken, you were just as broken as he was.

Roman was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and listen to the radio, with tears in his eyes. “It’s not supposed to be that way. You’re supposed to know I love you. But it doesn’t matter anyway if I can’t be to console you.” Waylon Jennings sang from the radio.

You laid in your bed, tear stains on your cheeks as you listened to the radio in your room. “Ain’t no use in crying, stay away from me. Ain’t no use in crying, stay away from me.” The Rolling Stones sang from the radio. As more tears came from your eyes.

Dean leaned against your door from the outside, listening to your cries of pain. He let his head fall back against the door. His own heart twitched in his chest at your cries. 

Seth watched from the end of the hall, hearing both yours and Roman’s radios, and watching Dean stand outside of your door like a guard dog. He shook his head and folded his arms. He knew this would end up happening. 

anonymous asked:

I've seen, and played games where the characters dive under water and their weapons are still in order. Is this accurate? Are bow and arrows more functional wet?

No. In fact, historically, compound bows were frequently made with water soluble glues, meaning if you tossed it in water, the bow would come apart in thin strips. Some modern bows can (probably) survive the experience, but it’s still something you’re cautioned against doing. Off hand, I’m not sure what water would do to a sinew bowstring, but I’m fairly confidant the results wouldn’t be pretty.

I’m not sure, exactly, how a waterlogged modern bow handles. The advice is, usually, to dry the bow, or allow it to dry off naturally rather than continuing to use it. Then, with mechanical bows, re-oil it if necessary.

With most melee weapons, you don’t really want to get them wet, but it won’t do much damage to them. Depending on the grip, it may make them harder to hold. There are some edge cases, if you have a melee weapon that can absorb water, and become waterlogged, then that will affect its use. I’m thinking of an untreated wooden club, but there’s probably some other possibilities that haven’t come to mind.

Firearms are a little more complicated. Black powder does not burn when wet. Hence the idiom, “keep your powder dry.” A musket with wet powder is worthless. This is compounded by the fact that early firearms needed to have some means to access the powder (up into the 19th century), so dropping one in water would ruin the load, and make the gun inoperable.

Once dried out, black powder is good to go again. Usually you’d do this by spreading it out over a clean surface and allowing it to sun dry. Normally this should only take a couple hours. Waiting for a loaded charge to dry out could take a while. (I’m guessing a couple days, but it honestly could be longer.)

Modern firearms (using a sealed cartridge) will fire underwater. The ballistics are wonky. As, I recall, the bullet will lose almost all velocity within five or six feet (this applies to both pistols and rifles). In most cases, a modern firearm that’s just been submerged will be good to go as soon as it gets above the surface. There are probably a few rifles that don’t take well to water getting into their gas return system, but none come to mind.

In general, you don’t want to get your weapons wet, but if it happens, this isn’t the end of the world. Bows are an exception, though.


This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron.

The Truth about Fur Trapping

I see a lot of posts on here where people are clearly gobbling up the garbage spewed by animal rights campaigns and this really ruins what the real image of trapping is. People seem to think trapping is just this cruel activity where people trap just to scratch their own ass with a wooden club after getting their sick kicks and go back to their shit laden caves. If you think that trapping is just that, you are clearly very misinformed. 

And that’s the thing, there’s a ton of misinformation out there on trapping. So I decided, that since I am a trapper myself, I’m going to show my side of what’s really going on. We trap for a reason. We don’t trap to be cruel assholes, but the AR activists like to portray this. If you’ve been lapping up what they load on your plate, please dump that food in the garbage for now and open your eyes to what the other side has to say. How else can you properly learn and be entirely informed if the only information you get is shock images and snuff videos that have been shoved down your gullet (that have likely been staged by the AR activists themselves).

You probably live in a city or small suburb, where your only pest is the occasional possum raiding your garbage. If that’s so, you’ve probably never came across any issues that are more serious. Beyond the suburbs, people of all kinds make a living by raising crops and livestock, and come into all sorts of conflict with wildlife. In the modern world we live in now, we need management more than ever before. People tend to forget this. 

So when you have a rancher or a farmer raising corn, soy, beans, etc, he/she runs into animals tampering with their livelihood. They could put up a huge fence, or pay for some machine that sends out digital wolf howls but these are costly and unrealistic. So they turn to a fur trapper to manage those animals who cross in and tamper with them. Trappers usually don’t charge to trap someone’s private land, so this is good for both rancher and trapper. Plus, you don’t want wildlife being too reliant on human food and livestock, so culling those who do so is a benefit on the species as a whole. 

So when you have people calling for a ban on trapping and telling these ranchers to basically “suck it and build a better fence” don’t realize what’s going to happen when trappers are not around to help and manage wildlife. When people have their livelihood tampered with and threatened, and they don’t have legal and humane means to manage the threats, resort to some pretty horrific methods to rid of the issue themselves. Which include illegal traps they don’t know how to use, poisoning, meat laced with glass shards and sponging (leaving sponges out dipped in chicken fat that cause a blockage which takes days to slowly kill an animal). And believe me, if there is no trapping, people WILL resort to this as their own form of management. These cruel methods are also indiscriminate. So pets and endangered species will fall victim to these on a wide scale basis. 

Trapping benefits humans and animals.

So now I’m going to cover how traps are really very humane and effective tools. 

All those pictures you see of mangled paws are from some gross misuse of traps by poachers or desperate people who didn’t have access to a legal trapper. Traps require a lot of education and training to use properly. They are not ready out of the box and simply setting one anywhere is irresponsible. It’s not the tools themselves that do damage, it’s who set the trap. Like any tool, there’s a right and a wrong way to go about using it. 

So I’m going to show you a graphic picture of the WRONG way to use a trap. 

That is NOT what occurs through an educated and legal trapper. This is what occurs during poaching or when someone is desperate and trying to rid an animal themselves from their own land. Without trapping, this will be so much more common. 

So why does it mangle the animal in that trap but the very same trap in a trapper’s hands doesn’t do this?

Simple. It’s all in the set up. Swivels on the trap chain and simply being mindful of the trap and animal it’s to catch. 

Notice in that picture the trap has no chain at all, not even any swivels. It’s been anchored to a thick wire. That is not a proper set up! That set up has worked against the animal’s movements and thus broke and tore all the bones and tendons in the ankle. Properly set up traps promote free movement for the animal, so they don’t rip and mangle and break their paws. 

Properly set up traps do not mangle or rip paws. It also safely contains the animal and allows them to move in any which way they want, in any direction, and freely turn around. 

It’s not logical for us to use poor set ups that rip and mangle. An animal in a poor set up can rip out and that’s a lost catch, an injured animal, and a waste of our time. 

Also, foothold traps are devices to HOLD not to CRUSH

As seen here in this picture, this is my own hand caught inside a foothold trap.

No pain. It just simply holds. That’s it. In fact, biologists use these very traps to catch, collar, monitor and release endangered species.

As seen in this video here : Trapping is being used for catching red wolves. Other animals have also seen the benefit from traps and trapping has been used to restore many once endangered species. Otters, puma, lynx, mexican wolves, etc. Trapping is an effective and safe way to capture these species.

If traps were maiming and crushing, they simply would not be used in these programs.

Animals caught in traps can be safely released with no issue. In the video below, it demonstrates this. 

Here’s some close ups :

Where’s the fleshy bloody ribbons of flesh and shards of bone PETA told me about??? Well, sorry, but there’s none of that crap here! 

Notice this raccoon is not hindered in any way as he moves. He was released and trotted away perfectly fine.

Traps also allow us to release undesired catches. Also, some traps are species specific. That raccoon is in a Dog Proof. It allows animals with hand like paws to reach in and trigger it. Regular foothold traps also have adjustments for weight pressure. So if you set a trap for a coyote and a weasel comes along and stands over it, he won’t set it off. 

On the topic of catching pets now. I see when pets get caught, trappers are blamed. I want to say, most pets caught are caught solely due to IRRESPONSIBLE PET OWNERS. When you disobey leash laws and allow cats to wander willy nilly into the woods, you are responsible to whatever happens to them. Yes, a pet caught in a trap can be released fine, but we hate seeing it occur because of lazy owners. Cats and dogs have no business roaming the woods freely. Please leash or contain your pets at home and be responsible of them. Stop blaming trappers for your negligence. 

So, is trapping still needed in this modern world? Absolutely! It’s one of the most valuable ways to humanely manage wildlife and is not what certain groups make it out to be. Don’t buy into shocking pictures that were staged or done by illegal activities. 

The gang

Whilst Watcher is the leader of his gang, he isn’t the only member of it. He has many people to help assist him and many people to help him with his jobs.

Wulfric , Watcher’s uncle who had recently managed to get out of jail. After committing a crime in Spain, he was sentenced to around 8 years in jail. Once out, he met up with Watcher and then began to remake Wulfric’s old crime gang. He comes armed with his own pump action shotgun.

Ziggy @starbounddoggy, a lovable doggy who just can’t help but find himself with a gang. Why? Because he always wanted to be once since he was a kid. He adores doing the manual stuff and also does enjoy not really listening to the law. However, he has never killed a single soul. His family still works as a carpenter and their own usual jobs. He is equipped with a small wooden club just in case.

Manteka @unforgivingskele, an undead skeleton who wants to die but cannot. He joined Watcher’s gang in the attempts to try and get out of his old boring life and try out something new. He’s very strong and rather flirty. He is armed with some knuckle dusters and a revolver.