#AIMS Shot Riser

[hassians-sernuk-boyfriend]

okay so hunting. bc I can't stop thinking about it.

under the cut bc talking about killing animals

okay so. disclaimer that I do not hunt so this is all just from me reading and thinking and interacting with people who do hunt.

so like. deer hunting, in general, is about shooting a deer and then tracking the blood-trail to find where it ended up collapsing from bloodloss. it's not a pretty instant kill and it's not very clean at all.

with a gun, you do a very targeted amount of damage with a fairly high piercing power, but despite that, you still don't really aim for the head, in general, you aim for the lungs, because flooding the lungs with blood will make the deer drop faster.

with a bow, it's generally considered the most humane to use the broadest arrow to do the most damage possible as quickly as possible, but the wider the head, the slower the arrow and the less penetration power it has.

(also, blunt arrows get used for lil guys but I do not think chapaa are small enough for that)

better material makes arrows go faster and bows hold more strength per inch or w/e, and various techniques can be used to make these more efficient, which is why a skilled weaponsmith makes a better bow even with the same materials available

we know that Hassian cares about getting a clean kill and respecting things and etc so applying this shit to The Headcanons

Hassian uses a bow, obviously, and we know he is a Good Shot, he Never Loses an Arrow, and he is Quiet, at very least.

this means we know he uses broadhead arrows and at most, a recurve bow for silence (the more recurved, the stronger the bow, but the the louder the spring)

he'd also want wide arrows + most piercing power, so higher pound of bow strength

if i remember right, bow strength goes from around 20lb for common use, up to around 30lb for hunting, then around 60lb for War, then up to 100lb for long range war, and then up to 125lb? for showing off (this is how much force is needed to pull back the string, and thus how much force is put on the arrow on release)

so probably makeshift bows are around 20lb, while the exquisite bow is, idk. 50? more?? who knows. which is why he talks about needing to master one to get a stronger one

I don't have a punchline for this but I Do imagine he's got a 100lb bow which means he can hold 50lbs of weight per finger if he's drawing the bow with 2 fingers

also imo he's a good enough shot to get the Head Shot, which is theoretically the most painless kill, but he can do it bc of his intense empathy for the animals, which lets him predict their movement enough to aim where their head will be by the time the arrow gets there (arrows are slow)

also a headshot lets him use less broad arrows, which lets him have a smaller bow i think??

also, just a collection of bow details bc im horny for bows

bows are generally left unstrung when not in use to make sure they can relax into their natural shape and retain their power

stringing and unstringing a bow, especially recurves and heavy bows, is incredibly dangerous, especially unskilled. (consider even 20lbs of force suddenly hitting someone in the form of a stick or whip)

bigger bows can hold more power but are obviously much harder to carry around, which is part of why things like recurves and reflex bows exist, so the bow can hold more weight without being as large.

composite bows are bows made of multiple materials, if I remember right. a skilled weaponsmith can make the front, back, riser, and limbs in materials suited to them

things that get used in bow bodies that I did not anticipate: braided cords. antler. leather straps

when you make an arrow, it's ideal to harvest all the feathers from it off 1 wing, because you want the feathers to rifle around in the same direction

feathers and arrowheads are attached with carving, string, and glue in various degrees.

[sl-walker]

Preview...

...from the next yet-unposted chapter of Stardust.

--

“I could eat at least three horses right now,” Booster said, looking over his array of plates and bowls, completely undeterred by the fact that it wasn’t even seven in the morning yet and the only people as awake and ready to go as him were the various geriatrics in the IHOP getting an early-bird special.  The way he saw it, caffeine existed for a glorious purpose and while he hadn’t needed any to get moving today, he had been in an insomnia-hangover himself a worrying number of times and therefore he held no mercy (and only conditional compassion) for those who were dawdling on waking up. “Maybe three and a half.”

“Oh no, Secretariat goes cannibal and destroys his brethren in his haste to fill the empty pit of his stomach,” Ted fired back, though it was with laughter in his voice as he clutched his mug of coffee like he’d shank whoever might try to take it. “Thoroughbreds everywhere react to the scandal tonight on CLTV in a stunning exposé!”

Brenda, Paco and Jaime were all nodding over their plates, looking like they hadn’t even actually woken up to roll out of bed.  Even then, Brenda picked her head up and squinted blearily at Ted. “Aren’t thoroughbreds the high-strung horses that keel over if you look at them cross-eyed?” she asked.

“I literally just asked that myself yesterday!” Booster said, pointing at her with his fork and well-speared sausage.  “Gotta say, I’m not sure how I feel about being compared to a critter that dies so easily.”  He was, however, a little more worried that the ‘high-strung’ part might be too on-target for his comfort.

“S’okay, I might have to kill you for being so awake right now,” Jaime mumbled, teetering over sideways until he was tucked halfway between Booster’s shoulder and the back of the curved booth. “And so happy about it.”

“It’s not my fault you stayed out so late.”  Still, Booster set his fork down long enough to reach across himself and lightly ruffle Jaime’s hair in something like a mixed apology and commiseration. “C’mon, today’s gonna be great.”

“You were out running by 5:30, ese, humans don’t do that,” Paco said, before shoving his plate of bacon and eggs away so he could fold his arms on the table and drop his head down onto them.  “Not normal, sane humans.”

All things being equal, Booster was an early-riser by nature, if not always factually; that he’d slept as well as he had the night before meant he felt pretty amazing right now, though. “In fairness, Paco, you were still awake when I left to go running.”

Paco groaned and shook his head against his arms. “Only ‘cause you were channeling Maria von Trapp in the kitchen.”

Booster opened his mouth to ask who the hell that was, but Ted shook his head with a grin and held up a finger before pulling his phone out and aiming at them.  When Booster raised his eyebrows in question, Ted mouthed, ‘Bianca,’ then took a shot of him and Jaime, the latter of whom might have fallen back asleep in the less-than-a-minute since he’d last spoken.  Booster made sure to beam for the camera, though, because he knew it would make a funny contrast to the probably-asleep teenager using him as a blackout blind and pillow.

Whatever Bianca texted back must have made Ted happy, because he smiled.

“Who’s Maria von Trapp?” Booster asked, before diving back into his breakfast.

Brenda finally managed to rally enough to drag her coffee close and start into her pancakes. “Who hasn’t seen the Sound of Music?”

“I don’t think they have whimsical anti-Nazi musicals in his time,” Ted said, sliding his phone over, presumably so Booster could both see the picture and Bianca’s response.

Booster dropped his fork again just to snatch it; the picture was admittedly very cute.  Bianca’s string of emojis in answer was every bit as cute.  Booster quickly sent the picture to his own phone and then slid Ted’s back to him. “I wouldn’t be against watching some whimsical anti-Nazi musical,” he said, on a delay.

“If you show him that, we are never, ever, ever getting back together,” Paco said, rolling his head to the side towards his-- maybe girlfriend?  Ex?  Who even knew, Booster couldn’t keep up with it, it seemed to change by the day.  “We would never stop hearing it.”

“Oooh, incentive,” Brenda snarked back.  Then, casual as can be, she wet a fingertip in her mouth and stuck it, wiggling, into Paco’s ear.

The subsequent shriek made every single person in the vicinity -- regardless of their hearing aids or lack thereof -- jump half out of their skin.  A line cook in the back swore something that sounded Eastern European in origin.  Jaime jolted out of his hiding spot and Booster was certain the reason the kid didn’t armor up and have a cannon cycling, ready to go, was because both Booster and Ted immediately reassured him that it was safe.

Brenda had turned fire-engine red.  Paco was glaring at her while swiping at his ear.  Jaime was looking around with his mouth hanging open, clearly having lost the plot.

Ted chewed his bottom lip, obviously about to bust up, even as someone managerial-looking started in their direction, IHOP nametag glinting menacingly in the sun.

Booster put on his most charming smile and said, “Perfect timing!  Can we get the check?  And some boxes?”

[okminer07]

Slave to the Light Pt 8

A Baldur's Gate Fanfiction

Lorelai was glad none of the bigfolk had come around to bother her. She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there at the base of the yew tree for, but from the ache in her back she was starting to get, it must have been a decent amount of time. She had made use of that time however, at her side now lay the curved riser of a soon to be bow along with half a dozen needle thin arrows with little chunks of pebbles stuck to the tips with some sap she had procured from the tree. Naturally she planned on making more arrows, but for now, she decided to turn her efforts back to finishing the bow. 

A problem had arisen however. She had already scoured around for spider webs, even if they would have made a lackluster string, but hadn’t been able to find even an old strand of cobweb.  

She had been putting off going back into the camp for some time now, quite liking this quiet solitude, but it seemed she had no choice. Gathering up the riser and arrows, she began trekking her way back over to the clearing the bigfolk had made their camp. As she walked, her eyes darted around, locating each and every one of them and was pleased to see they all seemed preoccupied. Gale was sitting outside his tent, reading a book titled The creatures of the Fey wilds and everything you could ever want to know about them. Lorelai rolled her eyes, glancing further left where she got sight of a familiar figure. An elf-like woman with long black hair much like her own, who was kneeling with her head tilted down in a meditative looking state. Shadowheart, that’s what her name had been, yes. She had been the one who’d healed her, useful sort then.  

As Lorelai made her way around the perimeter of the camp site, she caught sight of exactly what she had been looking for. A spool of some sort of string, twine perhaps, lay in a basket set outside a somewhat menacing light blue tent with what looked to be hunting and battle trophies scattered all around the outside. She hurried over to it, stopping so she was right up beside the basket. Her eyes darted around and when they saw no one was approaching, she leapt up, grabbing onto the rim and heaving herself on top of it.  

The spool right in front of her, she leaned forward and pulled loose a strand of string. Taking out the sharp pebble she had found, she sawed at the string until she was able to rip off what she needed.  

String in hand, she hopped back down to the ground, the jump making her calves burn. Sitting herself down against the basket, she grabbed the riser she had left on the ground and began to weave the string through the holes at the tips she had carved out.  She gave the string a quick tug, satisfied when that caused the limbs of the riser to bend.  

“What is this?”

Lorelai tensed when the ground quivered. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as a shadow enveloped her. She slowly turned, looking up to see a green, scowling face. A gith? On the material plane? The gith, clearly female, continued to glare down at her. Her miniscule nose scrunched up making it somehow look even smaller. 

“What sort of pest are you to steal my stuff?” From the corner of her eye, she saw one of the gith’s reptilian hands move a fraction of an inch forward. Not a second later, Lorelai had sprung into action. Using her bare foot, she kicked up one of her arrows, loaded it, aimed, and fired. The arrow flew through the air and the gith didn’t have time to even notice it before it had flown right up one of her nostrils. 

In an instant, the gith recoiled, letting out a roar of pain as her hand shot up to her face. Lorelai didn’t wait around, she started to run. 

“Why you little-!” Lorelai threw herself to the ground and out of the way as an armored boot came crashing down right where she would have been had she continued forward. She rolled over, groping for another arrow, looking up and feeling her blood run cold as the gith drew her hand away from her bleeding nose.  

“Tas’ki! I’ll-”  

“Lae’zel wait!” 

Lorelai bounced off the ground as heavy and hurried footsteps approached. The two both looked up to see Karlach running over waving her hands. The gith scowled as Karlach stopped between the two. 

“What are you doing?” 

The gith shot a finger down at Lorelai, her other hand going back to holding her nose “This- whatever it is, was stealing from me and then attacked me! I’m disposing of it” 

Karlach glanced down at Lorelai, “You did?” 

She scooted away, scoffing, “I didn’t know it was hers!”  

The Tiefling turned back to the gith, “Lae’zel, this isn’t a pest. This is Lorelai. Lorelai, Lae’zel.'' She stepped aside to let the two look at each other. The gith- Lae’zel raised a brow, before glaring back down at Lorelai. 

“What are you?” 

“She’s a pixie. Can you believe it?” Karlach flashed a smile down at Lorelai. 

Lae’zel’s eyes widened slightly, “A pixie?” 

“Yes, found her last night. Decided she’ll be joining us.” 

Lae’zel flew back into a glare, “Has she…. Well, tell this Lorelai to stay away from my stuff, unless she wants to become a red stain upon the ground.” she growled before turning, and beginning to leave, but not before she heard her mutter under her breath, “Not a bad shot”. 

Sorry for the short part. If you would rather read longer parts, I post more condensed versions of all my stories on DeviantArt, but post much less often there.

[shadowpeachceo]

When Nightmares Strike.

Lloyd was running through the halls as a pitch blackness followed trying to catch him, Lloyd knew if it caught him it would be the end. how he was back was beyond the green-cladded blonde. Lloyd thought he had destroyed him in the final battle, Lloyd had thought he was gone when he saved his father but here he was chasing him through his father's monastery no one else was in sight not even his father's students. "You can't run forever Lloyd~" The overlord taunted the destined teen as he began to catch up with the Golden ninja.Why was this happening? Why was he back? where is everyone else? Why was Lloyd alone? He doesn't want to be alone, not anymore. Just then the overlord pounced out of the shadows aiming to strike the blonde teen in the heart.And then suddenly Lloyd shot up out of bed breathing heavily and looking around. "It was a nightmare," Lloyd spoke quietly rubbing a hand up and down his face realizing what was happening, Lloyd took a deep breath in. Lloyd could hear footsteps approaching as he calmed himself down, then the person walking in the hall rounded the corner looking into Lloyd's bedroom, It was Garmadon. "Everything good Lloyd?" Garmadon asked calmly Lloyd could hear the sleep in his father's voice, he must have woken him up, most likely have unknowingly screamed while in the nightmare."Oh yeah I'm good" Lloyd responded not wanting to keep up or bother his father any longer than he already had. "Then why are you up at two in the morning?" Garmadon asked looking from his son's alarm clock over to his son. Lloyd took a quick glance at his alarm clock to see it was two in the morning. "Nightmare..." Lloyd mumbled with a sigh as he rubbed his palms over his eyes. "Same one?" Garmadon asked softly walking over to sit down beside his son on the bed. "Of me alone running away from the overlord through the monastery, yeah," Lloyd responded exhaustedly, this was the third nightmare this week alone and it was only Wednesday, he'd been having these nightmares for a little over two weeks now. "I just don't know what to do to make them stop," Lloyd mumbled quietly as he leaned against his father's side. "You're safe Lloyd, he can't touch you, he can't get to you. you defeated him." Garmadon reassured his son as he began to run his fingers through Lloyd's bed-headed hair. "I know. it's just...It feels like he's actually there, actually chasing me down, As I could actually feel his presence." Lloyd responded quietly, shaking his head a little bit. "Not that he will, but if the Overlord ever comes back I will not let him touch you, I won't let him hurt you, I promise." Garmadon spoke softly trying to reassure his son. "Thank you." Lloyd mumbled quietly.A few hours later Misako woke up to a quiet alarm, she turned the alarm off as she sat up and stretched before grabbing her glasses. It took Misako a moment to realize her husband wasn't in bed, this wasn't really an unusual occurrence after all Garmadon has always been an early riser. After a a couple of minutes, Misako made her way into the kitchen still in her nighttime clothes and her long hair in a loose down ponytail, expecting to find her husband drinking tea only to find the kitchen completely empty not even a single candle lit. Quietly Misako started to look through the monastery looking to find her husband only to get more confused when she couldn't find him anywhere. Eventually, Misako only had one room left to look at, so she quietly made her way to her son's room being careful to open the sliding door quietly to not wake up her son. The sight she found warmed her heart causing a soft smile to grace her face as she looked on at the scene of her son and husband laying curled up sound asleep together. After a minute she silently snapped a picture and quietly shut the sliding door again deciding to let the two sleep in seeing that none of them really had anything important to do today, Ninjago's been relatively silent since the final battle and the students won't be back for another week and her boys deserve to sleep in once in a while.

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Camp Wanamaker (Ch. 1/10)

June 17, 2023

Notes - You have no idea how excited I am about finally being able to share this story! Now that I have everything prepared for this and a solid plot line, I feel like I’ll have everything under control for once haha!

Chapter 1 - Send Me On My Way

It wasn’t often that Miles Murphy would willingly rise from his mattress early; typically, when it happened, his brothers would claim it was a sign of the end times. However, as he sipped tentatively at the hastily-made coffee within the styrofoam coffee cup he held, he found nobody harassing him about his early rising. In fact, the other two people who had piled into the bed of Butchy’s pickup truck were in a similar state; yawning as the sun rose higher over the land or, in Bentley’s case, sleeping against the tailgate - lucky little shit.

The only reason Miles was awake at all was because a storm had come through the house and Carrie had to pry him from the blankets. Well, technically, it wasn’t a storm so much as it was a person. A brown-haired, circle-framed glasses-wearing, professional figure skater with a smug smile who came bursting into the house like a man on a mission and basically ordered them to get out of bed at quarter after six in the morning. She had come in through Royce’s bedroom window, woken everyone in the house with a poorly-played bugle rendition of Reveille, and declared that they needed to get in the car and follow her if they wanted to live. Of course, at that hour, Miles didn’t care whether he lived or died as long as he could go back to sleep, but the excited teenager was determined and, while Carrie yanked his blankets away, Vivien had taken it upon herself to aim the bell of her bugle at his face like she was wielding a gun and blew hard into it, jolting him awake with a quick blast.

Fighting the urge to pick up the child and throw her out of the second-story window, Miles allowed Vivien to scamper off down the hall with a devious smirk and got himself dressed while Carrie buzzed around the room seemingly as at the speed of sound, hoping the girl would have a pot of coffee ready for him by the time he got downstairs. Although Miles had gotten a coffee into him before leaving the house, it wasn’t until Vivien decided to stop at the only coffee shop in her small hometown that he felt any sort of rousing as he ended up with two large coffees and a mild headache from how excessively chipper the barista had been.

Once they were done at the coffee shop and Vivien had stolen Carrie, Miles climbed into the back of Butchy’s truck along with his brothers and pounded back one of his coffees, hoping the espresso shots he’d asked for would kick in before they got wherever Vivien was leading them. Mick slid open the window leading from the cab to the truck bed and hollered over the wind for the people in the back to hold on as Butchy turned onto a dirt road. Although it was perfectly legal for them to ride in the bed of the truck, they had no seatbelts or anything to keep them inside the truck, so Miles wrapped an arm around Bentley’s slumbering form and made sure Royce had a firm grip on a ratchet strap Butchy had secured around his toolbox before grabbing onto the outside of the truck as Butchy’s truck rumbled over unpaved potholes and rocks that stuck out of the ground.

As Miles let out another yawn and took a long sip of his coffee, he leveled his gaze on his younger brother, the teenager’s curly hair blown even further out of control as they sped through the backroads. Royce had always been an earlier riser, waking with the sun more often than not, but even he let out a yawn as he watched the trees blow by. As though sensing his brother’s gaze on him, Royce met Miles’ eyes with a confused raise of his brow. Instead of answering his brother’s silent question, Miles grumbled, “I’m going to kill your girlfriend.”

Obviously not taking Miles’ threat seriously, Royce chuckled, “Oh yeah?”

Nodding, Miles confirmed, “After that wake-up call she gave me, I’ve been plotting her demise.”

Unfazed, Royce replied, “You do realize that means you’ll have to make your own shitty bean juice in the morning, right?”

Miles tipped his head back with a groan before meeting Royce’s amused, caramel eyes, “Why do you have to make sense this early in the morning?”

“To keep my girlfriend alive, apparently,” Royce smirked as he turned his gaze back to the road.

“Sadly, you’re doing a great job,” Miles sighed. 

“You love Vivien,” Royce stated factually.

“I do.” Miles wasn’t about to argue Royce’s point. He did care for Vivien as though she was his own blood, but that didn’t stop him from plotting her demise when she roused him at ungodly hours. As the truck turned onto a dirk path and bounced over a partially exposed section of tree roots, Miles tacked on, “Sometimes I wonder why.”

“Me too,” Bentley grumbled, rubbing his eye with a hand as he slowly shifted away from the tailgate and leaned against Miles.

Attempting to contain his snort of laughter at the solid lines that had formed against his younger brother’s cheek, Royce smirked yet stayed silent. He knew just as well as his brothers did that they loved Vivien and just how mutual the feeling was. Bentley made his affection for the brunette obvious through the way he always tried to spend as much time as possible with her. Miles, on the other hand, was more reserved and Royce suspected that was partially due to the attachment issues he’d gained over time. Their joint love of coffee was one thing, but Royce was observant and easily noticed the way his older brother would pay more attention to things Vivien said or did. Time went on and their bonds grew stronger, making Vivien’s transition from “family friend” to Royce’s girlfriend an easy one. She balanced them out well and fit right in with them, almost like a puzzle piece they hadn’t realized was missing from the box.

As the truck pulled to a stop in a pine-needle-laden parking lot, Miles nudged Bentley until he moved away groggily and Royce turned to look at their surroundings. A large wooden building stood before them and, in the distance, Royce could just barely make out some log structures with illegible signs above the doors. Above the main building was a large sign that welcomed them to a camp Royce remembered hearing the name of in passing - Camp Wanamaker. The sound of his girlfriend’s car doors slamming made Royce turn, locking gazes with a certain blonde as she sauntered up to the truck bed with a smile that nearly burned Royce’s retinas. 

“Welcome to summer camp, gentlemen,” Carrie spoke as she and Vivien leaned against the truck.

“Summer camp?” Bentley repeated as he gazed up at the building.

Turning an exhausted glare toward the beaming brunette on the other side of the metal tailgate, Miles questioned, “You woke us all up at six in the morning for summer camp?”

With a knowing smile, Vivien rested her arms against the truck and stated, “I made sure to ask them to brew us a fresh pot of coffee.”

Searching the girl’s eyes, Miles took in a breath and sighed, “You’re forgiven.”

As though she had read the man’s mind, Vivien said, in unison with Miles, “For now.”

Vivien thumped the truck with a fist and pulled down the tailgate with ease before chirping, “Yeah, yeah. Now, let’s get a move on. I want to claim Lakeside Lodge before anyone else gets ahold of it.”

Before saying anything more, Vivien hauled a duffel bag onto her shoulder and walked away, taking Carrie with her as Royce jumped over the side of the truck and hurried to grab the bag of clothes and essentials he’d thrown together before leaving the house. As he followed Vivien and Carrie toward the large building, a loud bark echoed from inside, giving him pause. “What was that?” he questioned.

“Ding,” Carrie replied as she and Vivien hurried up the front steps.

Sending the blonde a bewildered look, Royce hesitantly followed them and asked, “Is that supposed to make sense?”

No answer came from either girl as Vivien opened the front door and a flash of black and golden brown burst through the crack in the screen door, tackling the beaming brunette to the wooden floorboards of the porch. Royce jumped, watching with wide eyes as his girlfriend cooed at the large dog, allowing the slobbering mountain to clean her face while she and Carrie petted him. Eventually working through the shock at the sight of the huge dog, Royce inched closer to the porch just in time for Vivien to sit up and tell the dog to sit.

Finally meeting her boyfriend’s gaze with a smile, Vivien rubbed a hand between the dog’s pointed ears and spoke, “Royce, this is the camp mascot and reigning hot-dog-eating champion, Dopey Ding.”

“Dopey Ding?” Royce echoed as the others approached the porch behind him.

In response, the dog’s tongue flopped to the side of his mouth, resulting in a goofy smile Royce couldn’t help chuckling at. “He’s an idiot, but we love him,” Vivien claimed with a smile. Turning her gaze toward Royce, she held out a hand and instructed, “Give me your hand.”

Taking Vivien’s hand in his with a smile, Royce watched as Vivien rolled her eyes at him, flipping his hand palm up and positioning it in front of the dog. “What now?” Royce asked as his girlfriend released him.

Vivien gestured for him to stay where he was before turning to the pup beside her and asking, “Are you gonna say hi, Ding?”

The dog looked at Royce and examined the hand before him before placing his paw in Royce's palm and letting out a soft growl that almost sounded like, “Hello.” Royce didn’t bother fighting the smile that breached his features as he shook the dog’s paw. Bentley stepped up beside Royce and offered a hand to the colorful dog, both brothers laughing as Ding tipped his head back and howled another greeting, moving his paw from Royce’s hand to Bentley’s.

The door to the porch opened and, with a smile on her face, a woman with long, dark hair braided over her shoulder stepped onto the wooden deck. Chuckling, she knelt on the wooden floor and handed two small treats to the brothers before turning toward her granddaughter, “If you teach that dog to shake hands with everyone who comes to this camp, I’m sending him home with you at the end of the summer.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind eating the vegetables Olly refuses to touch,” Vivien smirked. 

With a snort and a shake of her head, Dawn sighed, “Don’t you think your grandfather already tried that?”

As Vivien let out a laugh, Bentley asked, “You know Vivien’s grandfather?”

“I would hope so,” Dawn chuckled. “Considering we’ve been together for the last fifty years.”

With a proud smile, Vivien gestured to the woman as she spoke, “Guys, this is my Nonna, Dawn Mays. She and my Grandpa George own the camp. Nonna, these are my friends. I know you already know Mick and Carrie.”

“I do.” Looking around at the group before her, Dawn smiled, “However, there are a few familiar faces here.”

“I should hope so,” Vivien chuckled. “I send you guys enough pictures of our escapades.”

Dawn nodded, glancing at the people her granddaughter had dragged to the camp before settling her gaze on the curly-haired boy who stood on the ground in front of Vivien. “This one must be Royce.”

As Vivien nodded, Royce stretched out a hand and introduced himself, eager to make a good first impression on his girlfriend’s family, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Clasping the boy’s hand firmly, Dawn observed him for a moment before claiming, “Likewise, little opossum. I trust you’ve been keeping our eaglet out of trouble.”

Confusion filled Royce’s face as he was released from the older woman’s hold, but he tried desperately to mask it as he chuckled awkwardly, “I try, but trouble always seems to find us somehow.”

“With Vivien, I’m not surprised,” Dawn grinned, a knowing, borderline mischievous glimmer in her deep brown eyes. “She always has been a bit of a wild child. I remember, one time, when she was about eight or nine-”

“Okay, moving on!” Vivien interrupted quickly, clapping her hands together as she pushed herself to her feet. “Nonna, is Grandpa at the desk? I want to snag Lakeside before anyone else does.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, darling,” Dawn apologized as she stood. “Someone already claimed Lakeside.”

“What?” Vivien breathed. “But I put in for it back in April! Who has it?”

Instead of answering, Dawn’s gaze drifted toward the parking lot. Vivien followed her eyes and found herself staring at where a red, 1989 Miata sat, its roof rolled back into the trunk and both of its headlights popped up, taunting Vivien with their cutesy look. She knew that car anywhere. She had ridden shotgun in it on the way to band practice ever since Riven’s moped had ended up in the scrapyard a few years prior. 

“He got here about an hour ago,” Dawn stated.

Settling a glare on the old Mazda, Vivien let out a hiss, “I’m going to kill him.”

As her granddaughter breezed by, Dawn chuckled, “At least wait until after the season ends. We need as many counselors as we can get.”

“I make no promises,” Vivien said as she pushed her way into the building. 

Glancing around the main office, Vivien continued forward, scanning each area until she reached the mess hall. The familiar head of auburn hair she had been searching for stood by the back window that overlooked most of the camp. Storming across the expanse of the mess hall, Vivien made her way toward the older boy with a fiery rage in her eyes. Once she was close enough, she stepped onto the bench of a nearby table and launched herself at Riven’s back, an arm around his neck and her legs closing around his hips as Riven caught his balance on a nearby wall.

Peering over his shoulder at the enraged brunette, he exclaimed, “What the hell, Pip!”

Meeting his hazel eyes, Vivien snarled, “I’m going to dismember you and throw you in the lake.”

“What for?” 

“You stole Lakeside!” Instead of being intimidated by the younger brunette, Riven chuckled, adjusting his grasp on Vivien’s thighs as he began walking out of the room. Disappointed by his amusement, Vivien tried, “This is no laughing matter! You knew I wanted Lakeside and you took it, so I have every right to kill you. Right here, right now.”

Riven snorted as the others entered the building, “You’ve got witnesses now, so no killing.”

“Wrong,” Vivien stated, pointing toward the group. “I have Nonna who would definitely bail me out and six alibis who would stand trial because they love me. None of them are preventing your untimely demise.”

Releasing one of Vivien’s legs, Riven reached over the office desk and pulled a sign-in book over the counter, flipping it open to the first page and pointing to where he had signed in already, “Maybe not, but that does.”

Peeking curiously over Riven’s shoulder at the book, Vivien scanned the list of names that had been hastily scrawled in Riven’s chicken-scratch handwriting, finding not only his name, but also hers and the other six people she had brought with her to camp. Smiling as she let out a nervous chuckle, Vivien released Riven with a pat on his chest and sighed, “I suppose you’ll live for now.”

“Good,” came a voice from beyond the counter. “We need all of the help we can get this summer.” As per usual, Vivien’s grandfather was dressed as though he had walked out of a Woodstock photograph - unnaturally bright, tie-dye shirt and all - but the cell phone in his hand was evidence that he had somewhat upgraded to the twenty-first century. With a bright smile, he examined the group that had gathered as his wife let herself behind the desk. “I just got off the phone with Hayley.”

Vivien perked up at the mention of her birth mother, leaning on the counter as she asked, “Are they going to be here this summer?”

“From the first of July to our closing ceremony,” George nodded.

With an excited, high-pitched giggle, Vivien bounced in place before turning to Royce and Bentley with a beaming smile. “Do you know what that means?”

Bentley glanced at Royce with a raised eyebrow before offering, “Someone named Hayley is coming to camp?”

Royce allowed a soft chuckle to pass his lips, “Hayley is Viv’s birth mom, remember? She showed us the pictures from the wedding.”

“Oh yeah,” Bentley breathed. A yawn took over the fifteen-year-old and, once it had ended, he muttered, “It’s too early for me to think about anything other than my bed.”

“Speaking of beds,” Dawn began, shifting her gaze from Bentley to Riven, “did you get the beds ready down at the lodge?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Riven replied, leaning on the counter with a lopsided grin. “Fresh sheets and pillowcases all around.”

Dawn nodded appreciatively before turning toward her husband, a question on the tip of her tongue as he raised a hand with a smile and said, “I already started brewing the coffee, the cabin assignments are already set up, and the rest of the counselors aren’t set to arrive for another hour or so, at the least.”

Slowly releasing the deep breath she had taken, Dawn grinned and turned to look over the group of eight before her. Clapping her hands together, she declared, “In that case, I’ll let Vivien and Riven show you all around and give you the chance to settle into your rooms. Once you’ve put your things away, meet me up at the counselors' lodge and I’ll give you the basic rules of the camp.”

Vivien turned to Riven with a smirk and the auburn-haired male stepped to the side, gesturing for Vivien to lead the way. As the others grabbed their things and followed Vivien toward the door, Carrie stopped at the doorway to give the camp’s faithful guard dog a quick scratch under the jaw, making Ding’s foot thump lazily against the wood floors. Carrie let out a soft chuckle, “Good boy.”

Before she could follow Miles out of the room, Carrie was stopped by a voice, “Oh, Carrie?”

Turning toward the voice, Carrie found Dawn watching her from her spot behind the desk, the woman’s husband already busying himself with paperwork. Smiling at the older woman, Carrie asked, “Yeah?”

With a twinkle in her eyes that Carrie wanted to attribute to the lights shining on the woman, Dawn smiled, “I’m glad you decided to come back for the summer.”

“Vivien didn’t exactly give me a choice,” Carrie laughed, “but I have to say, I missed this place.”

Dawn nodded, glancing toward the doorway where Miles was waiting for Carrie to join him. “That girl can be quite persuasive when she wants to be,” she claimed thoughtfully. Shaking her head slightly, Dawn turned her gaze back to Carrie and smiled, “Anyway, it’s good to have you back at camp, Carrie.”

“It’s nice to be back, Mrs Mays,” Carrie beamed.

“Oh, please,” the older woman began, waving Carrie’s words away with a shake of her head. “Call me Nonna. All of the campers and counselors do.”

Nodding, Carrie relented, “I’ll try to remember that.”

“That’s all I ask,” Dawn said with a smile. “Now, hop along, little fox; you don’t want to miss your tour of the camp.”

Dawn watched as the blonde joined her boyfriend and the pair scampered off to join the others as her husband spun his chair around to face her. As the door in the next room slammed shut and George lowered his glasses with a knowing smirk, Dawn perched herself on the desk and asked, “What’s that look for?”

Chuckling, George set his glasses on the table beside him and grinned up at his wife as he said, “I was just thinking about how interesting this summer should be.”

“How so?”

“Look at the motley crew we’ve got this year,” George said, gesturing toward the door. When his wife tipped her head in confusion, he stated, “We have Makana and her new husband, Vivien and her band of lunatics, her boyfriend and his brothers who look as though they could sleep until noon, and Carrie.”

“We’ve had some of them as counselors before.”

“Makana somehow handled twelve kids shooting arrows at haybales like she’d been doing it her whole life, Riven worked magic to make that little demon spawn from the Oakridge Cabin sound like an angel during their cabin’s performance of Shrek, Jade handled the singing around the campfire like a champ when the kids gave Sweet Caroline four standing ovations, and Erica managed to not allow the campers to explode pottery in the art barn kiln,” George recalled. “They’re great at what they do and, to be fair, I’m not worried about most of them.”

“Why do I feel as though I don’t want to know who you are worried about?” Dawn sighed.

George took in a long, deep breath, slowly shaking his head before meeting his wife’s eyes, “While I’m sure Vivien will be a great leader this year, are you sure that putting her in charge of the dance studio is a wise choice?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

With a deadpan stare, George asked, “Need I remind you that she couldn’t even do the macarena properly at Hayley and Charlie’s wedding?”

“She wasn’t expecting to be singled out and put on the spot like that.”

“And putting her in a room full of children will make that any better?”

“Well, who would you suggest?” Dawn questioned. “We don’t exactly have the pick of the litter. Until next month, Vivien just might be our only option.”

George sat quietly, thoughtfully, for a moment before asking, “How about we give them until next week when the campers start arriving? It would give the newcomers time to learn the area and the different positions available and it gives us the chance to learn their strengths and weaknesses.”

Impressed by the decision, Dawn smiled as her husband rose from his seat, “That could actually work.”

With a mockingly wounded tone, George leaned his forehead to his wife’s and breathed, “Don’t sound so surprised.”

A teasing glimmer shone in Dawn’s eyes as she stared into her husband’s hazel eyes, “Is there a blue moon outside? That’s the only reason you’d be able to come up with a good idea.”

“Was it a blue moon when I asked you to marry me?” George shot back with a grin.

“Actually,” Dawn drawled as she leaned away, “I distinctly remember telling you that you had no choice but to marry me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” George relented, waving off Dawn’s statement with the ease of a man who had done it for years. “I still asked.”

Dawn smiled, “And I still said yes.”

With a nod, George glanced to the doorway before returning his gaze to his wife, extending a single finger as he asked, “We reconvene at the end of the week?”

Wrapping her pinky finger around her husband’s and leaning in for a quick kiss, Dawn nodded, “The end of the week.”

“This is our fitness center,” Vivien stated, gesturing to the building on her left. The tour group hadn’t gotten very far, turning left from the backside of the main office and heading up the path to some of the activity halls. “There isn’t much to see in there, but we have everything a normal gym has.”

“And these,” Riven began, motioning to four small cabins on their right, “are bunk cabins numbers ten through thirteen. They’re the typical bunks you’ve probably seen in movies - six bunk beds and a pair of single beds for the counselor and cabin lead.”

“What’s a cabin lead?” Royce asked.

“It’s a step down from a counselor,” Riven explained. “Counselors have to be over sixteen at the start of the summer, but cabin leads are usually just the oldest camper in the cabin.”

Turning to walk backward so that she could see the people behind her, Vivien smiled as she proudly declared, “I was the cabin lead for Kittery Cabin last year, so I was responsible for making sure everyone got where they needed to be every day.”

Though most everyone nodded in understanding, Miles asked, “How come some cabins have names and others don’t?”

Mick decided to answer as she ran a hand along the railing of Cabin 12, “The cabins and lodges that were built back when the camp first opened are the ones with names. The newer cabins just haven’t been named yet.”

Vivien nodded, “There are seven original cabins - Kittery, Oakridge, Lakeside Lodge, Havenwood Hall, Ondawa Cottage, Backlog Bungalow, and Wayonda Tower - but they’re mostly used by groups of siblings or small families now as they house fewer people than the new bunk cabins.”

“We’re staying in Lakeside, right?” Carrie asked.

Riven was quick to nod as Vivien led the group toward the structure at the end of the path, “Right. It’s one of the most sought-after cabins on the property.”

Stepping onto the veranda of the large wooden building before them, Vivien proclaimed, “This is the dance studio where Nonna said I might be stationed this year. Since it’s only open on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I’ll have plenty of time to do other activities and hang out with you guys.”

With a sigh, Riven leaned against the railing, “And I’ll probably be stationed in the playhouse again, making the little demon campers sound good for the end-of-year showcase.”

“They put on a play here?” Carrie asked, her eyes glimmering at the idea.

Vivien smiled as she nodded, “Every year, we do some kind of performance. Last year, we did Shrek the Musical and every cabin was involved. Most years, we have either a musical that everyone has to work together on and each cabin has a song to themselves or we do a concert for the parents. Either way, we use the playhouse for the end program.”

“That could be a lot of fun,” Bentley commented.

Not bothering to disguise the cringe that flooded his features, Riven let out a dry chuckle, “Just wait until you hear them sing; you’ll quickly change your mind.”

Following Riven away from the dance studio, Vivien pointed out the basketball courts and tennis court in the distance as they followed a different path out to the amphitheatre. The area had been cleared out years ago and built to meet the camp’s growing needs over the years. As more campers chose to stay, the seating around the fire pit grew and, at its current size, had four rows of long, wooden benches, each positioned slightly further back on the hill to accommodate everyone. The circle in the center was lined with rocks that had probably been left there since the last campfire of the summer before and the thought of roasting marshmallows for smores over the crackling fire gave many in the group a sense of serenity, but what caught their attention was the large wall set far back from the fire pit area.

“What is that?” Butchy wondered as he found himself inching closer. “A climbing wall?”

“Exactly,” Vivien chirped, sliding up beside the taller man. Nudging him with her elbow, she grinned up at Butchy as she asked, “Feel like trying it out?”

“Not particularly,” Butchy smirked.

Vivien let out a scoff as she rolled her eyes, “Killjoy.”

“I bet I’m not the first to want to keep my feet on the ground,” Butchy claimed. 

“No,” Vivien agreed, “but even Mickie’s done it before.”

Although she felt all eyes on her, Mick only smiled, nodding in confirmation that she had, in fact, climbed the skyscraper of a rock wall. Bentley was quick to step forward, asking Mick, “I thought you hated heights?”

“I do,” Mick replied. “But I promised that, if everyone in the cabin got their lines memorized for the show and kept the cabin clean for two weeks without me saying anything, I would climb the wall, so I had to keep my promise.”

“What was it like?” Royce asked.

Letting out a long breath, Mick shook her head, “I don’t remember.”

With a snicker, Vivien said, “She passed out after ringing the bell at the top.”

With wide, concerned eyes, Carrie pressed, “Were you okay?”

“My pride was mortally wounded,” Mick chuckled, “but I was alright once I was on the ground again.”

Leading the way from the amphitheatre, Vivien guided the group through the sparse treeline, under an archway of neatly-trimmed hedges to a cul-de-sac-style path that looped in a circle at the far end. With nine cabins surrounding the pathway and a grassy expanse in the center, one could imagine spending their free time with their friends, having a picnic on a hot day, watching the star-filled sky at night, or simply relaxing on the grass, listening to music. However, as they were led down the path toward the main strip of dirt that looped throughout the main areas of the camp, they were shown more of the active areas of the campground. Between the soccer field with haphazardly drawn, barely visible lines, the swimming pool with cartoon characters painted on the bottom, and the sand-filled volleyball court, they would be kept active all summer long. 

Riven brought the group through the grass just past the swimming pool to show them some more buildings, guiding them onto the back half of the path. The cooking studio, where one could go to learn how to cook some of the meals served at the camp, was a big hit with Bentley, who looked eager to get his hands on some of the cookbooks that had been collecting dust in one of the pantries. Miles took a mental note of where the medical center was as he knew just how accident-prone his younger brothers and Vivien could be. Then, the playhouse drew Carrie in like a magnet; the stage, though worn with age, was large, and the curtains that draped over it had clearly been hand-sewn in the art barn just a few minutes down the path. Royce, of course, took an interest in the library - the scent of parchment permeating the room filled with books that had been very well-loved over the years.

Then, as they turned right past the looming Havenwood Hall, a sandy beach came into view. A set of long piers stretched out over the water, a large set of buildings marked as changing rooms sat off to the left, and, to the far right, near the tree line, was a fairly new cabin overlooking the lake. The crystalline water glistened with the rising sun overhead, a sight many of the group were sure they would find very welcoming over the heat of the summer months. Before they could get too enraptured by the sight of the shimmering lake, Riven mentioned getting settled in and making their way to the counselors' lodge before Dawn came looking for them.

The Lakeside Lodge was warm and welcoming with a large living area and a staircase that split in two directions at the landing greeting them as soon as they entered. Tugging the chain to turn the ceiling fan in the living area on, Vivien said, “There are eight individual bedrooms - four downstairs and four upstairs - so pick a room to stay in for the summer. You won’t get another pick unless someone wants to swap.”

As Vivien disappeared up the staircase with her duffel bag of belongings, the others dispersed - Royce and Bentley rushing after Vivien to find a room upstairs while the others decided where they would be rooming. None of the beds downstairs would be big enough for two people unless they felt like sleeping atop the other person, so the thought of Miles and Carrie or Mick and Butchy simply sharing a bed was quickly dismissed. While the two couples decided which rooms they wanted downstairs, Riven made his way upstairs and found the bedroom he had chosen upon his arrival an hour or so prior. The larger beds upstairs were usually taken by married couples when the camp allowed people to rent the lodges, but Riven was simply pleased to have a larger bed and a bathroom to himself.

As he began tossing some of his clothes into the dresser that rested against the wall opposite his bed, Riven was surprised to hear a quick knock on his bedroom door. “Come in,” he called.

Slowly, the door pushed open to reveal Bentley who looked around the room before meeting Riven’s gaze with a small, almost hesitant grin, “Hey.”

“Hey, half-pint,” Riven greeted as he tossed a hoodie onto his mattress. “What’s up?”

“Half-pint?” Bentley muttered to himself. Grinning, he shook his head and leaned against the doorframe as he asked, “I had a couple of questions about camp.”

With a smirk, Riven slid the bottom drawer of his dresser shut and turned to Bentley, “Before you ask anything, I’m going to tell you the same thing Chief says to all the staff before the year begins.”

Bentley’s head lilted to the side as he wondered, “What’s that?”

“Don’t add to the population, don’t subtract from the population,” Riven began, counting each remark on his fingers. “Don’t end up in the hospital, newspaper, or jail.”

Before he could finish, Vivien passed the room, finishing the statement by adding, “But, if you end up in jail, establish dominance quickly and call for someone to bail you out.”

With an amused grin, Bentley watched as Vivien headed for the stairs, Royce following quickly behind. Blinking in disbelief at the phrase, Bentley turned his attention back to Riven, chuckling softly, “That sounds like something Miles would tell me and Royce if he ever went on a trip without us.”

“If that’s the case, I bet Chief will get a run for his money this year.” Smiling, Riven perched himself on the edge of his bed and said, “Now, what did you want to ask?”

Stepping further into the room, Bentley ran a hand through his hair. Though he had more than one question, he filed through a few of them before eventually choosing to ask, “What time do we have to be up every morning?”

Lifting an eyebrow as he observed the younger teen, Riven shrugged, “They play a song for us to wake up to at seven-fifty every morning apart from the weekend and holidays. We have to be down at the mess hall for eight, but we don’t technically have to get dressed or anything until around ten when we go to our first activity of the day.”

Bentley nodded understandingly, taking in a breath before asking, “Is it hard to adjust to living here?”

“Nah,” Riven said with a shake of his head and a small smile. “After a few days, you’ll know your way around and be so used to it that you’ll forget what home feels like.”

Once again, Bentley gave a nod, this one more sure than the last. “How about…” Bentley drifted off. After taking a moment to think about how he wanted to phrase his question, he took in a tentative breath and tried again, “What about-”

“Relax, Bentley,” Riven ordered gently, gaining the blond’s attention. “I’m not going to chew your head off for asking a question. Just let it out and I’ll answer as best as I can.”

Nodding more to himself than anything, Bentley kept Riven’s gaze as he asked, “Is there a reason we can’t share bedrooms?”

With a snort of laughter, Riven nodded, “Think about it, half-pint. If we let everyone bunk up with their boyfriends and girlfriends, we’d have a bus-load of pregnant teenagers by the end of the summer.”

Making a face of disgust at the concept, Bentley shook his head, “That’s not what I meant.”

Allowing his laughter to die out, Riven asked, “Well, what did you mean?”

As though he wanted nobody else to hear, Bentley glanced nervously at the door before turning back to Riven, his voice lowered as he said, “Royce and I have always shared a room.”

Slowly nodding in understanding, Riven surmised, “And you wanted to see if it’s possible for you two to share a room?”

“I know it’s weird,” Bentley sighed, looking away. “I’m more than old enough to have my own room and he’s probably sick of me clinging to him like a leech, but-”

“But you still want your brother around.” When Bentley silently nodded, Riven sent him a smile, “I get it.”

“You do?”

“Mhm,” Riven hummed, pushing himself from the mattress. Placing a hand on Bentley’s shoulder, he said, “You two aren’t the first pair of siblings to be worried about spending time in separate places, and, to be honest, I highly doubt you’ll be the last.”

“Really?” When Riven nodded, Bentley asked, “So what do I do?”

“Why don’t you give it a shot for tonight and see how well you handle it,” Riven suggested, patting Bentley on the shoulder. “If you find it easier than you thought it would be, you can stay in your own room.”

Bentley nodded slowly, taking in the idea before slowly asking, “What if it isn’t easy?”

Riven smiled and, as he headed toward the door, turned back toward the younger blond as he claimed, “You know, I don’t think there’s anything in the rules against two siblings having a sleepover.”

Bentley’s confusion swelled as Riven left the room, leaving him to decipher the older teen’s statement. He was sure Riven had seen many other families have issues with separation over his time at the camp, but what did them having a sleepover have anything to do with it? Was it some kind of secret message he was supposed to decode? As Bentley slowly left the room and headed for the stairs, the implication in Riven’s statement came to him. Smiling to himself, Bentley took in a breath of relief and made his way downstairs to join the others.

Once everyone was ready to begin the trek to the counselors' lodge, they headed out, making their way back toward the main office. At the fork in the road, they turned right and headed to a large cabin that sat far back amongst the trees. The only way to tell the building was for counselors was the small sign on the wall beside the front door and it was barely visible from the main path, but as Riven and Vivien trekked up the stairs to the door, the rest of the group followed. As the doors opened, music filled the air. A soft voice sang along to Mickey and Sylvia’s Love Is Strange and, as they ventured further into the lodge, they soon found the culprit to be none other than Vivien’s Nonna who sat by the large window on the far wall, singing along to the crackling radio beside her as she brought a blue-tipped paintbrush to the canvas before her.

Without a care in the world, Dawn sang along to the music as she allowed the scenery before her to come to life. The floorboards creaked as the group of eight entered the lodge and Dawn turned toward them with a smile, setting aside her paint and brush as she rose from her stool and danced across the room, taking her granddaughter by the hands and twirling her. Vivien giggled at the interaction as her grandmother pulled her into a dance. As the two danced and sang along to the song, Miles found himself reminded of how he and his brothers used to dance with their mother while she painted. Summer vacations were filled with music, paint, and boundless laughter as their mom would pull them into bouncing dances around the living room before settling back down at her easel to work on another masterpiece. Glancing at his brothers from the corner of his eye, Miles wondered if they even remembered those days.

As the music came to an end and Dawn released Vivien from her hold with a proud smile, their faithful audience gave them a round of applause. “Why, thank you,” Dawn said as she gave a bow. In just a few strides, Dawn crossed the room and turned the volume down on her radio before turning back to the group as they filed further into the room. “Now, as a few of you already know, this is the part where I give you camp-branded shirts for the summer. You don’t always have to wear them as we have nametags for all of our counselors to wear when they feel like dressing casual, but for the first day, last day, and any activity days where we bring kids into town, you’ll need to wear camp gear.”

Reaching into a large box on a nearby table, Dawn pulled out a white shirt with the camp’s name and logo on the front - a simplistic scene of the lake with the sun shining over it and some pine trees. Raising a hand, Mick asked, “Are we tie-dyeing them like we did last year?”

“That’s up to you, my dear turtle,” Dawn claimed. “We have all the supplies if you feel like doing some this afternoon, but we do have some new styles that you may be interested in.”

“Awesome,” Mick breathed with a smile.

Smiling at the group before her, Dawn took a step to the side and picked up a clipboard, reading off the first name on the list, “Bentley, you’re up first.”

Bentley took a hesitant step forward before pausing. With a disheartened tone in his voice, he muttered, “I’m not old enough to be a counselor or a cabin lead, yet. I can’t-”

“Who says you can’t?” Dawn pressed, placing a hand on her hip as she smiled mischievously at the young blond. “Vivien got her first camp shirt long before she was close to being a counselor or a cabin lead; as did Makana and Riven. You have just as much a right to a shirt as they did.”

Glancing at his friends, Bentley received nods of confirmation as Vivien waved him on with an encouraging smile. Turning back toward Dawn, Bentley beamed as he strode across the wood floor to the box Dawn had left on the table. Peering into the box, Bentley looked around at the colorful array that had been tossed into the box - plain white with colorful bands on the sleeves, already tie-dyed shirts, hoodies, and shirts of every color strewn about. After much scrutiny, Bentley pulled out a colorful hoodie with the camp’s emblem on the front and the name around the rim of the hood followed by a white shirt he hoped to dye later with the others before finally pulling a yellow shirt from the box.

“Yellow, hm?” Dawn spoke softly, gaining Bentley’s attention.

Nodding shyly, Bentley said, “It’s my favorite. Is that alright?”

Reaching up a hand, Dawn ran a hand over Bentley’s hair with a smile, “Of course, baby otter. Are those in your size? If not, we have a rack in the other room if you need to find one.”

Bentley quickly looked over the shirts he’d pulled from the box before nodding, “I’m all set.”

“Good,” Dawn said. Pointing to the artwork she’d been doing, she asked, “Now, why don’t you put those aside for a minute and go see what you think I should add to my painting?”

“Are you sure?” Bentley asked, his oceanic eyes illuminated at the very thought.

“Go right ahead,” she assured. “I’m always looking for another set of eyes.” Once Miles nodded to make sure it was alright, Bentley placed his new shirts on the end of a nearby bench and gravitated toward the easel as though a magnet had pulled him to it. Dawn smiled at the boy before glancing at the paper on her clipboard and saying, “Butchy, you’re next.”

Butchy was quick to choose from the available options, pulling out some red and blue T-shirts he could easily add to his wardrobe once they returned home after the summer ended. Turning to the woman, he extended a hand and said, “Thank you.”

Dawn eyed the hand before her, scanning Butchy more than once before latching onto his hand and shaking it. “A ram and a turtle,” she mused, a non sequitur that confused the man before her. “What an interesting pair.”

Butchy’s confusion grew, but as he raised an eyebrow, all he asked was, “How did you know that I’m an Aries?”

The older woman shook her head as she chuckled, “I’m not talking about zodiac signs.”

“Then what-”

“I’ll explain later,” Vivien interrupted. “Just go with it.”

Utterly confused, Butchy met Vivien’s gaze before turning back to the woman before him and slowly nodding. Gathering his shirts in one arm, Butchy made his way to the table Bentley had left his things on and sat beside the boy’s pile of shirts as Dawn called the next person to the table, “My dear fox, I believe you’re up next.”

Without hesitation, Carrie stepped forward, crossing the room with a smile and searching through the box on the table before pulling out an aqua hoodie, a dyeable T-shirt, and a shirt with a smaller version of the camp’s logo on the left side of the chest and ‘STAFF’ written across the back in glittering gold. Before Carrie took off to find a seat, she gave the older woman a quick embrace, thanking her for the shirts before allowing Mick to step forward and pull items from the box.

After making sure she took a shirt to dye later on, a T-shirt with the camp’s original emblem, and a green shirt with the camp’s logo on the back, Mick stepped aside, sitting at the table with Butchy as Miles stepped up to the plate. Miles’ choices closely resembled Bentley’s - a blue hoodie, a shirt to dye, and a tri-colored shirt he supposed was supposed to resemble the colors of the sun, sand, and water although that wasn’t the reason he had chosen it. 

Dawn looked over his selection with a small smile, nodding approvingly as she spoke, “Wise choice. I look forward to learning more about you, young gorilla.”

Though confusion was evident in Miles’ gaze, his smile never faltered as he quickly thanked the woman and joined his girlfriend at the table. Next up was Riven who made his choice quick and concise, leaning in to hug Dawn as he muttered, “Thanks, Nonna.”

“Of course, little wolf,” was the woman’s reply as Riven stalked off to join the others. Without glancing at her papers this time, Dawn raised a hand and beckoned Royce to her, “Your turn, opossum.”

Glancing at his girlfriend, Royce watched as Vivien held her hands up and shook her head. “Not me,” she declared. “I’m a proud eagle.”

“Eaglet,” Dawn corrected with a smile. 

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Vivien wondered with a grin.

“Nice try,” Dawn chuckled. “You are still growing and discovering who you truly are. Until the day you decide you’re done, you will remain an eaglet.” 

Sighing dramatically at the sentiment, Vivien raised a hand to her forehead in a mock salute, “Sir, yes, sir.”

Turning her gaze onto Royce once more, Dawn grinned as she spoke, “She’s right, though; it’s your turn, Royce.”

Finally stepping up to the box, Royce peered at its contents, examining each item as he rifled through the pile. A pale orange shirt wound up draped over his arm alongside a mostly plain, white shirt, but as he searched through the box for something to pique his interest, he found nothing. Just as Royce was about to give up and pick one of the shirts at random, he found an orange and purple hoodie near the bottom of the box, the colors swirling together in a spiral of tie-dye. Smiling to himself, Royce pulled the sweatshirt from the box and draped it over the other two shirts he had pulled before thanking Dawn and stepping away to allow his girlfriend a chance to look through the box of shirts. With practiced ease, Vivien sauntered up to the table and dug through the contents of the box, quickly pulling her desired shirts from the box and stepping aside to join the others as she wrapped the sleeves of her chosen sweatshirt around her waist.

As her granddaughter sat at the table and Bentley hurried to join the group, Dawn folded her hands together and smiled, “Now that that’s settled, I have a few quick things to go over and, no, Riven, that does not include what to do if you end up behind bars.” The auburn-haired male’s mouth snapped shut at the comment, a swift smile taking its place as Dawn eyed him knowingly. “Mhm,” she hummed. “I saw that look.”

“Sorry, Nonna,” Riven apologized despite the glimmer in his eyes showing how very not sorry he was.

“You will be,” Dawn snipped with a grin. Clearing her throat, the woman took on a more serious expression as she began, “Now, I just want to go over a few things for the new counselors. This first week of pre-camp preparations will be more of an exploratory course than anything. It will give you all time to adjust to living here and get you prepared for the chaos that will occur the moment the first bus of campers arrives.”

“Where will we all be?” Mick asked.

Taking in a breath, Dawn sighed, “As of right now, we aren’t sure. Chief and I figured that this week would give all of us a chance to see what positions or buildings we thrive in most. If I know him well, Chief will most likely end up in the kitchen and I’ll end up dragging him away kicking and screaming.”

Tentatively raising a hand, Vivien asked, “So you don’t know where any of us will be?”

As truthful as she always tried to be, Dawn shook her head. “As of right now, no. Hopefully, by the end of the week, we’ll have things figured out a bit. Of course, there are a select few who I can imagine would like to keep their positions from previous years. “

Mick was quick to nod, “I want to keep teaching archery.”

Chuckling, Dawn nodded, “I understand. However, I do advise that you at least try to enjoy the other opportunities that will be available.” Agreeing, Mick relaxed in her seat, leaning against Butchy’s chest as he brought an arm around her shoulders. Returning her attention to the group as she scanned over them, Dawn started, “Another thing I should get out of the way is that, even without campers on the grounds, we ask that you begin to follow the basic outline of the schedule we’ve left in each of the cabins.”

“Wake-up call, each of the meals, and lights-out?” Riven wondered.

Giving the nineteen-year-old a nod of confirmation, Dawn agreed, “Exactly. Throughout the day, feel free to roam around and explore the camp as long as you show up to meals with everyone else and try to be on time in the mornings. With lights-out, we’re a bit more lenient toward the counselors as you’re all used to being up later than most campers, so don’t worry too much.”

Before she could continue, Dawn’s walkie-talkie crackled to life and her husband’s voice came through, “The first shuttle of staff members just pulled in. Are you on your way back or should I send them your way?”

Unclipping the device, the older woman brought the walkie-talkie toward her mouth and pressed the button on the side as she replied, “Send them on over. I just finished with the kids.” Once her husband replied, Dawn clipped the walkie-talkie back onto her belt loop and turned her attention back to the group before her with a smile. “Alright, well, you should probably get going before this place gets claustrophobic. I hope you all enjoy your summer here as much as we’ll enjoy having you all here. It will be very exciting to see how time treats you all.”

After thanking the woman and gathering their new shirts, the group made their way down from the counselors’ lodge and followed Vivien as she guided them toward the arts and crafts barn. As they walked, Vivien opened the notes app on her phone and began explaining what each of their new, given nicknames meant. “An otter is typically associated with playfulness, youth, creativity, and - as Nonna puts it - ‘sensibility without suspicion’,” Vivien claimed, using her fingers to make air quotes as she spoke with Bentley. “Basically, you’re able to understand things going on around you even when others think you don’t.”

Bentley hummed, “Is that why she let me look at her painting?”

“I don’t know,” Vivien shrugged, “maybe. Either that or it could just be that I talked about you guys so much that she assumed you’d like to talk art as much as she does.”

After thinking it over for a while, Bentley nodded and asked, “What about Royce? What does his mean?”

Sparing a glance at her boyfriend as she found the animal he had been given, Vivien smiled, “An opossum represents cleverness, sensibility, and someone who believes themselves to be fairly grounded. They’re also known to be strategic and typically adapt easily to new surroundings.”

Royce took in the information, allowing Vivien’s statement to sink in before asking, “How could she possibly know all of that just by looking at us?”

“Well, to be fair, I did tell her a lot about you guys,” Vivien chuckled. “But that’s just the way Nonna is.”

“I remember the first time I came here,” Riven piped up. “She took one look at me and instantly connected me with a wolf.”

“A wolf?” Miles questioned.

“‘A loyal and intuitive free spirit who can gain great success through the bonds he holds most dear,’” Riven recalled. Letting out a laugh, he claimed, “At first, I thought she had lost a few screws, but now I know that’s just her way of bonding with people.”

“What does mine mean?” Butchy asked Vivien as he helped her push open the doors to the art barn. “A ram?”

“Other than the fact that you’re hardheaded?” Carrie quipped with a smirk as she passed him.

Leveling a sharp stare on the blonde, Butchy looked ready to fight back, but as Mick sent him a firm, no-nonsense glare, he sucked in a slow breath and swallowed the snarky comeback on the tip of his tongue. Instead, it was Mick who spoke, “I think rams are actually known to be a symbol of sensitivity.”

“They are,” Vivien confirmed as she followed the group inside the barn. “‘Stoic, but sensitive, persevering, and imaginative,’” she added as she read. “Rams are also known to represent change and new beginnings.”

Stepping closer to Vivien with a curiously raised brow, Miles asked, “What on earth does a gorilla mean? It sounds as though I should be offended, but she said it with a smile, so I think it could be a good thing.”

Quickly scrolling up through her notes, Vivien nodded, “It’s a good thing. Look; ‘gorillas are immensely family-oriented, strong, and protective. Typically intelligent creatures, gorillas are known to be peace-keepers in times of aggression, using logic in an attempt to work others out of arguments.”

Miles hummed thoughtfully, peering down at Vivien with a smirk, “They all sound pretty accurate.”

Nudging the taller man with an elbow, Vivien grinned knowingly as she muttered, “Just wait until you hear what Carrie’s means. Hers is perfect.”

Glancing over Vivien to where his girlfriend was helping Royce and Bentley search for a specific color of dye for their shirts, Miles smiled, relieved to see them finally working together on something. It wasn’t long before the group had gathered all of the supplies they needed on a large tarp and made their way back to the lakeside cabin they would be staying in. After spending lunch in the mess hall and changing into clothing they didn’t mind getting messy, the group of eight laid the tarp out on the sand and got to work on dying their shirts in different patterns and vibrant colors. Rubber bands and bottles of dye were passed around as music played softly from the speaker Vivien had hooked her phone up to.

The warm summer air swelled as the sun hit its peak in the sky, forcing some to roll up their sleeves as they worked. Once they had deemed their shirts done, they placed them inside clear baggies and left them to dry on the tarp in the sun. By the time they were done setting everything aside, the announcement for dinner came over the camp’s speaker system, calling all workers to the mess hall. Upon their arrival, Riven and Vivien were brought into a tackle of a hug and bounced around as their fellow bandmates swarmed them. With matching smiles, Jade and Erica ushered the group to the long dinner table they’d been waiting at, the table having just enough room for the ten of them.

“I can’t believe you got the walking Barbie doll to come to camp,” Erica whispered to Vivien. “I didn’t think this would be her scene.”

Vivien shrugged, swallowing the bite she had taken of her taco before saying, “So far, she seems to be enjoying herself. I think she’s just eager to try new things.”

“Maybe she wants to take notes for a future show,” Jade offered. “You said she’s an actress, right?”

Vivien nodded, but it was Royce who responded from his seat beside her, “I doubt she’ll last long once the campers arrive and she has to do actual work.”

Lightly kicking Royce’s shin under the table, Vivien sent him a disbelieving stare as she said, “I thought Miles asked you to try to get along this summer.”

“He did,” Royce sighed, glancing over at the blonde as she talked animatedly with his brothers and Mick at the other end of the table, “but she’s not exactly making it easy.” 

“It hasn’t even been a full day yet,” Erica snickered.

“Give her a chance,” Jade agreed. “She might just surprise you.”

As Royce gave a noncommittal hum and returned to his food, Vivien looked across the table at her bandmates and mouthed a quick, “Thank you,” before taking another bite of her taco. The couple nodded in understanding, sending the brunette a hopeful smile as they returned to their food. Once the meal was over, they walked Erica and Jade back to Oakridge, the cabin they were residing in for the time being, and headed back toward the lake to watch the sunset over the water. Before venturing out onto the wooden piers that stretched over the water, Vivien took a handful of rocks from the shoreline, hoping to perfect her stone-skipping skills.

At the end of the piers where the two connected into one, Vivien handed Carrie some of the rocks she’d taken and attempted to show the blonde how to skim the rocks across the lake’s surface. Despite her best efforts, Vivien could only manage one or two skips whereas Carrie had somehow managed to achieve four or five before her stone sank to the bottom of the river. Carrie and Vivien shared a laugh as Vivien’s stone hit hers, the two bouncing off of each other before sinking. However, as their laughter distracted them from their surroundings, neither the brunette nor the blonde noticed the tall shadow that passed behind them until it was too late. With a swift, calculated shove to Carrie’s back, Butchy nudged her over the edge of the wooden pier. What he didn’t account for, however, was Vivien’s instinct to pull Carrie back, resulting in both girls falling off the pier with matching shrieks. 

Even Butchy appeared taken aback as the pair plunged into the lake with a stupendous splash, but Royce and Miles were quick to weave their way to where their girlfriends had fallen in, waiting for them to come up for air. Carrie was the first to surface, swiping her hair out of her face with a look of rage-filled disbelief as Butchy stared down at her with a smirk. Vivien bobbed up a moment after, her soaked braids clinging to her skin as she wiped the water from her eyes.

“Are you two okay?” Miles asked, reaching a hand out for Carrie to take if she wanted help

“Peachy,” Carrie grumbled. 

“I can’t see,” Vivien claimed, looking around blindly. “My glasses are gone.”

“Shit,” Butchy mumbled, kneeling on the edge of the pier beside Royce and stretching out a hand to the brunette. “I’m sorry, piccola. Let’s get you out of there and start looking.”

Leaning over the water, Royce followed Butchy’s lead, reaching out for his girlfriend as he offered, “Here.”

Stretching out a hand, Vivien gripped the first hand she was offered before finding another. Instead of allowing them to pull her from the water, however, she found one of the pier’s underwater anchor poles with her shoe and pressed against it, using what leverage she had to push off from the pole, yanking the two men into the water with her and Carrie. Watching with wide eyes and a shocked smile as Butchy and Royce were catapulted into the water as she latched onto Miles’ awaiting hand, Carrie let out a bark of laughter before slowly turning her mischievously glimmering azure gaze onto Miles.

Catching on a moment too late, Miles let out a soft, “No,” before the blonde followed her friend’s lead and yanked Miles into the water, shoving off from the underside of the pier as he tumbled into the lake. Soon, the others who had gathered on the pier joined in, jumping off the edge of the pier to join those already swimming around. Bentley joined Royce and Butchy in the search for Vivien’s glasses as Vivien hovered close to the pier. Not long after the search began, Royce surfaced with a smile and placed the round-framed glasses on the bridge of Vivien’s nose. After giving her boyfriend a grateful kiss on the cheek, Vivien swam away just enough to send a wave of water his way, resulting in a returning splash from the curly-haired boy.

After a few hours of swimming and splashing around, the group headed for the shore, ready to wash the lake water from their clothes and prepare for a no-doubt restful night. Sodden clothes were hung on a rope they secured on the deck outside and, by the time everyone had showered and changed for the night, it was almost time for lights-out. While most everyone had returned to their rooms for the night, Vivien sat on the living room floor in front of Miles as he wove her hair into a loose French braid, the pair softly conversing about the day they’d had. An exhausted Bentley piped in here and there from his spot on the far end of the couch, relaxing against Royce as the middle Murphy brother ran a hand through his younger brother’s hair. After watching the group interact as she worked on cleaning Vivien’s glasses in the light of the downstairs bathroom, Carrie entered the room as quietly as possible, lowering herself to the floor before handing Vivien her glasses with a smile.

“Tired?” she asked as Vivien let out a lengthy yawn.

“Mhm,” Vivien hummed. “Swimming always puts me to sleep.”

“Me too,” Bentley muttered, looking as though he could fall asleep at any moment.

“Well,” Miles began as he tied off Vivien’s braid and draped it over her shoulder, “I guess it’s a good thing it’s time for you three to go to bed.”

Peering over at his older brother, Royce smirked, “I’m not tired yet.”

Flinging Vivien’s soaked scrunchie at Royce with a grin, Miles chuckled, “Get tired, then. You guys need sleep.”

“Says the one who’s going to need four people to drag him out of bed tomorrow,” Carrie snickered.

“Yeah, yeah,” Miles sighed, pushing himself from the couch as Vivien stood and stretched. “The sooner they get to sleep, the sooner I get to sleep and the sooner I wake up.”

“Bullshit,” Vivien pretended to cough.

“He could do it,” Bentley claimed, earning him a few incredulous stares. Then, he added, “If someone throws a bucket of ice water at him when the alarm goes off.”

As the rest of the group dissolved into giggles, Miles put his hands on his hips and scoffed, “I can wake up whenever I want to.”

Royce chuckled as he and Bentley rose from the couch, “Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Miles asked as Bentley gave him a hug goodnight.

“He’s definitely not calling you a truther,” Vivien quipped as she headed up the stairs to her room.

With a shake of his head, Miles smiled as Royce stepped forward, giving him a hug before following his girlfriend and younger brother upstairs. Turning to Carrie once the kids had left the room, he asked, “What about you? How was your day?”

“Pretty good, actually,” Carrie acknowledged. “I enjoyed getting to spend the day away from the norm, you know. I’m looking forward to spending the summer here.”

“I am too,” Miles claimed, looping an arm around her shoulders as he guided her toward her room. “It could be a chance for all of us to really get to know each other.”

Nodding, Carrie hummed, “That would be nice. Maybe, by the end of the summer, I won’t be getting pushed into the lake anymore.”

The two locked gazes, amused smiles gracing their faces as they both said, “Wishful thinking.”

Cupping Carrie’s cheek in his hand, Miles leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before whispering, “Good night, mon renard.”

Blinking up at him in confusion, Carrie muttered, “That’s a new one.”

“My fox,” Miles explained with a chuckle.

“Hm,” Carrie hummed with a grin. “I like it.”

“Good.”

After saying goodnight, the pair split for the night, retiring to their own rooms to get some sleep for the night. The moon outside shone softly through the lodge’s windows, casting faint shadows on the walls and on some of the slumbering figures that had bundled themselves under the covers of their temporary beds. Although most of the other residents of the house were either drifting off or fast asleep, Bentley was wide awake, staring out the window next to his bed at the darkened campground. He had tried everything in his power to get some sleep - music, those sleep videos Vivien always watched, even going as far as trying to slow his breathing to get some semblance of exhaustion to seep through his muscles, but nothing seemed to work. Taking in a deep breath and sighing it out, Bentley pushed himself to sit up, giving up on the idea of sleep for the time being. Scanning his room for something to do, Bentley stilled as he watched a shadowy figure poke its head around the frame of his door. Slowly, the person leaned further into view and Bentley caught the faintest glimpse of curls under the person’s hood, making a small grin appear on the blond’s face.

“Hey, Ben,” Royce spoke softly. “What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Bentley replied.

Watching his brother step further into the room, Bentley took notice of the pillow tucked under Royce’s arm as his older brother sighed, “I couldn’t sleep. You?”

“Same,” Bentley nodded. After a pause of silence, Bentley scooted closer to the wall and offered, “Care to join me?”

“Are you sure?”

“If we both can’t sleep, we might as well stay awake together, right?” Bentley chuckled in a breath.

Letting out a soft laugh, Royce nodded, “I guess you’re right.”

Crossing the room in a few short strides, Royce tossed his pillow into place next to Bentley’s and slid under the cover beside him, sending his younger brother a smile and Bentley relaxed on his side. Taking in a deep breath, Bentley confessed, “It felt weird not having you in the room.”

Nodding against his pillow, Royce softly claimed, “I didn’t like that I couldn’t just look over and make sure you were alright.” After taking another breath, Royce thoughtfully added, “I think that’s one of the reasons why I came to check on you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bentley smiled and shifted closer to Royce as Royce slid an arm around his shoulders, bringing his right arm around Royce’s middle in return. The two brothers talked for a while about the day before attempting to find a comfortable spot under the covers. However, as they both tried to relax into the mattress, a soft tapping on the doorframe caught their attention. Peering over at the doorway, Bentley smirked as Vivien crept into the room, perching herself on the side of the bed. 

Royce took Vivien’s hand in his as he and Bentley sat up, asking her, “Are you alright?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted with a yawn. “I always find it hard to sleep the first couple of nights, so I was going to see if we could read or something if you were up, but you weren’t in your room, so I came here.”

“You found me,” Royce stated.

“I did,” Vivien agreed. “I found both of you.”

“You did,” Bentley concurred. “Care to join us?”

Vivien chuckled, “I don’t think that’s allowed, Beemer.”

Before Royce could think of something to get Vivien to stay, Bentley spoke again, “There’s nothing in the rules against us having a sleepover.”

“I think that only applies to family members, Ben,” Royce said. “Where Viv and I are dating…”

“We can still have a sleepover,” Bentley claimed. When Vivien sent him a raised eyebrow, he elaborated, “Royce, you and I are brothers, and, Viv, you’re practically my sister. Technically, we’re all family.”

With a soft chuckle, Vivien nodded, “I guess, in a roundabout sort of way, you’re right.”

“It’s settled then,” Bentley stated, sliding closer to the wall in order to make more room on the bed, “you’re staying with us tonight.”

As Royce and Vivien shared a smile, Bentley laid back against his pillows, waiting for Royce to shift closer and make room for Vivien to join them. Once they all had made themselves comfortable and Royce had become a human pillow for both Vivien and Bentley, they relaxed into the mattress, staring up at the wooden ceiling with tired eyes and serene smiles. Then, as Royce allowed himself to unwind, a thought came to mind that had his eyes peeling open once again as he stared up at the ceiling in confusion.

“Wait, a second,” he began slowly. “If Bentley and I are brothers and Vivien is Bentley’s sister, does that mean I’m dating my sister?”

As Bentley muffled his bark of laughter in Royce’s hoodie, Vivien reached up and placed a hand over Royce’s face with a tired grin, “Shut your brain off and go to sleep before I knock you out myself.”

[extraplugins02]

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[masezace]

A few more additions if I may..

- Bows are bigger than you think. Of course it depends on the type of bow (Longbow, Recurve, Compound), and there are variations in size beyond that, but personally I shoot a recurve and my bow is 60 inches while I'm 5'4". It's literally only about 4 inches shorter than me unstrung (it loses some length when it's strung ofc). Unless your character is a child with a child's bow, your bow should literally be the size of a child. For recurve, 40" (which is a little over 3 feet), is generally the minimum. It's a big weapon, and honestly not as portable as you'd imagine. In some movies/drawings people are shown carrying their bow slung over their shoulder like a bookbag with the string across their chest and the limbs across their back. Not recommended. It's pretty uncomfortable with a recurve since the riser/grip either digs into or hits your back when in motion and the string pressing into you would hurt as well depending on what you wear (not to mention it's not worth ruining your string with the friction it would cause), and depending on your height, the tip of the limb will hit or drag on the ground. It's not even possible to wear it that way with a compound, and it might be more easily done with a Longbow, but I still wouldn't recommend it as it could damage the string.

- Lower draw weight means lower accuracy. OP already did a good job explaining about draw weight, so I'm not going to go too much into any specifics about it and repeat things they've already said. But basically you'll have higher accuracy with a higher draw weight, and a harder time shooting accurately with low draw weight. To put it super simply, more weight aids in stabilizing the shot so you can hit your target more directly. It's much more difficult to be accurate with a lower drawback weight because you need to take more things into consideration, both the limitations of the bow itself (arrow dropping more, lack of impact and range) in addition to outside influences (wind, obstacles, etc).

- Shooting for more than an hour is exhausting! Especially when you're just starting out, even half an hour can be difficult. Which is why novice archers should start with lower drawbacks. Everyone wants to go for the higher drawback right off the bat because it seems cooler and manlier, etc. You're going to wreck yourself that way lmao. Start off with a low draw weight and work your way over time up to higher ones. Archery practice is like a mini workout (you should actually be doing some, though not too much either, upper body workouts on the side in order to aid your archery, particularly focusing on your back and shoulders), the longer you go, the more you'll shake and of course the more your aim will suffer. Once your muscles can handle it, you'll be able to shoot for longer, and eventually you can increase your draw weight too. But know this: your arms, and especially your back, will be sore. So if your archer character trained for over an hour or spent a few hours in battle and isn't at least a little fatigued and isn't even sore at all the next day, anyone who knows a thing or two about archery will be side-eyeing them lol.

Advice from an (Amateur) Archer on Writing About Archers and Archery

Admittedly, I don’t have the widest range of experience when it’s come to archery. I’ve only been shooting for a year now, and the time that I do take to shoot have long months between them. Still, I think it’s important to outline the basics for anyone who wants to write an archer in their book and wants to save themselves the embarrassment of having the archer do something that an archer would never do in a million years.

- Archers usually unstring their bow after battle. Unstringing a bow is exactly what it sounds like: removing the string from the bow’s limbs. Usually, archers then wrap the string around the now-straightened bow so they don’t lose it as easily. Archers unstring bows because everytime the limbs are bent by the string, there is a large amount of tension in the limbs. If the string is on too long and the bow has not been shot for a while, the limbs will start to wear down and lose their power, resulting in an archer needing to buy new limbs or an entirely new bow.

- Archers always retrieve their arrows after battle. Arrows are expensive and take a long time to make, so archers want to conserve as many arrows as possible. Sometimes they have a repair kit with them at the ready, in case they find an arrow with a loose arrowhead or broken fletching that can easily be repaired. 

- Training arrows are not the same as battle arrows. Training arrows have thinner shafts and usually blunted tips so they can easily be removed from targets. Thinner shafts break more easily, and the blunted tips – whilst they can pierce skin – usually won’t get very far in the flesh. They’re also easier to make. Battle arrows are thicker, and their heads are pointed at the tip and have two pointed ends at its sides. This arrowhead is designed to easily pierce through flesh, and is incredibly difficult to pull out because its two pointed ends snag onto flesh. If you want to pull it out, you’d have to tear the flesh away with it, which can lead to an even larger wound.

- Arrows are fatal, and one can incapacitate a soldier for the rest of his life. Arrows are not easily snapped off like you see in movies. The draw weight is too strong, and they can sometimes be as strong as bullets. They will pierce through bone and tendons, which do not easily heal. Furthermore, if you want to remove an arrow, you either have to go through surgery, parting the flesh away from the arrowhead so it doesn’t snag onto anything, or you have you push – not pull – it all the way through the body.

- Bows are not designed for hitting people with in close combat. The limbs are specifically made to flex. Imagine hitting someone with a flexing piece of wood. If you hit with the middle of the bow, it still does very little because there is no weight behind the bow, and so you might as well be hitting them with a pillow. It might be annoying to the opponent, but it won’t save you. Archers need a secondary blade in close combat. They cannot strike people with their bows and expect to win.

- Draw weight affects speed, range, and impact. Draw weight is measured in pounds, at least in America, and it is measured in how much weight must be pulled when you draw back the string. A high draw weight means stiffer, thicker limbs that can shoot further and hit harder. But, this is at the cost of speed. A low draw weight means thinner, more flexible limbs that can shoot smaller distances and have low impact, but can be shot faster. Before you acrobatic fanatics immediately seize the smaller bow for its speed, understand that a bow’s advantage is in its range. No one can hit an archer from 300 meters away with their spear or sword. The archer has complete dominance over the battlefield in this way, and their arrows can kill anyone who gets too close. Not hurt. Not annoy. Kill. And a higher draw weight means a better chance of piercing through specific armor, then flesh, then bone. A lower draw weight means less range and, even worse, a lower chance that the arrow would even pierce through armor if the arrow even hits its target. 

- Bows will always be outmatched in close combat against any other weapon. Bows take too long to draw and shoot, and at such close range, the opponent has an easier chance to dodge oncoming arrows. I already explained that the bows themselves cannot be used to take down a foe. 

- Bowmen on horseback are utterly terrifying. Archers usually can’t move from their spot because range is more important than mobility, and at such a long range, you usually don’t need to move from your spot anyways. Bowmen on horses, however, are closer to the battle, and worse, they are faster than almost anyone on the battlefield. Not only are they difficult to hit, you have no way of predicting where they will shoot next because they can circle around you in confusing ways. If you want an interesting archer character, I’d advise trying these guys out.

- Never underestimate armor and padding. Arrows will never be able to pierce through plate armor because its curved surface will always deflect oncoming arrows. Arrows can pierce through maille because maille is made out of metal rings that can be bent and can fall away. However, padding usually lies underneath, which is surprisingly durable and can stop an oncoming arrow, as well as absorb some of its impact. Because of this, make certain that the archer is focusing on gabs in the armor. To know this, you MUST study armor. Gabs usually lie where the joints are because soldiers need those gabs open so they can move. Typical gaps lie in the neck, the armpit, the inner-elbow, the knees, and the palm of the hand. Impact is also an archer’s friend. A war arrow shot by a hundred pound bow, hurtling at incredible speeds and gaining momentum the further it travels, can evoke serious damage. To be hit by one of these arrows will feel more like being hit by a horse than being hit by someone’s fist. 

[toku-explained]

Final Round: Oni Game

New Generation Stars: Ginga thinks about various heroes who have teamed up with the New Generation Heroes, Himself with Jean-nine, Geed with Zero, Z with Windom, and then himself with his main partner, Victory. He winds up triggering the activation of Victory's data, and contacts Sho to apologise.

Geats: Neon's new DesaStar mission is to sabotage players in the last game, with the warning if she's caught her ideal world will never come to be. The Jamato aren't showing up, Daichi's strategy to lure Chirami out, as in desperation he sets up a hide and seek game, where as Glare2 they have to try and catch him, getting past traps and Remote Control Riders, Neon deliberately gets Keiwa caught. During a break Ace implies Neon is the DesaStar, causing an argument, a mysterious man then approaches Neon, telling her to consider how she appears to others, and the effect she might have making others miserable. In the next round the Riders get closer to catching Glare2, but he gets away and Neon gets herself shot, accusing Ace of doing it deliberately. Chirami, resting, gets cornered by Beroba, Buffa and Nadge-Sparrow, the Riders attacking him. Neon makes her accusation towards Ace, but Keiwa knows enough about the two of them now he can see it's Neon. Chirami is defeated, and Beroba plans to use the Vision Driver to access the Goddess of Desire, when Jean arrives, aiming to stop her, using the Laser Raise Riser to become Kamen Rider Jean.

Donbrothers: With the situation bad, the remaining New Donbrothers want to make plans, but keep disagreeing and Inuzaka is annoyed and and leaves. While relaxing with Natsumii, he discovers his spending Kibi Points has made him a fugitive again. After explaining he hoped Murasame would enjoy the manga, Sonoza, out of money, is given a job at Donbura. Sonoroku rampages, even his comrades are disturbed. If the Noto cut down the Hitotsuki the lost members will be lost forever. Natsumii wants explanations from Inuzaka, who asks about Miho, learning she was dreaming of being Miho while in the forest. SekaiKi and DengekiKi are about to reunite, Sonoshi instead makes them rampage, Inuzaka is dragged away before Natsumii can demand answers from him, and in the battle despite the Noto holding their counterparts off, Haruka and Inuzaka are also taken. Jiro, still in turmoil, is encouraged by his other self that they've always had eachother, and merge into one. Sonoshigoroku visit the oden stand, Sonoi there incognito, but offend him so much he reveals himself, they issue a challenge. The next plan is to have the guard dropped by all but one of them being captured, when they arrive however, Sonoshigoroku have the Hitotsuki captive, which eventually they release to capture the others, Saruhsra entrusting Sonoi with the Zanglass Sword, he cuts them down while the others are too overconfident, freeing everyone as SekaKing and DengekiKing form. After a fight with Sonoshigoroku, Goldon Onitaijin and ToraDragonJin fight the Hitotsuking, with Kiwami Onitaijin finishing things as the Noto, for now, defeat their counterparts. As everyone seems to be getting along, Inuzaka notes Taro let himself be captured to foster working together Sonoi also noticed.

[leopauldelr]

オレたちの夢は壊れないッCHU!

[lokiprompts]

Sleeping Beauty - GN One Shot

Summary: You are far from a morning person, so when you try and wake up early...you end up saying and doing things in front of your crush you never would do when you were fully awake. And your crush? The God of Mischief of course.

Warnings: Some swearing.

Words: ~4k

Mornings weren’t your favorite. If you were being truly honest with yourself, you loathed mornings. It was something about the audacity the morning light had to wake you from your peaceful slumber that just made you grouchy and not yourself. But being a part of the Avengers meant you had to be available whenever you were needed and that sometimes meant the early morning hours. It seemed the rest of the team were all early risers except for you, and you had a theory that they avoided taking you out on morning missions due to your affliction. There was an incident one mission where you got injured. Although it was minor, it was reckless enough from your sleepy state to cause some hesitation from your team members.

You had tried everything to transform yourself into one of those ‘sunshiny morning people’. Guzzling coffee was your new hobby and you had come up with the most random ways to fight with your alarm in the morning. Usually, you just turned it off with a slap of your hand and you were so tired you never remembered doing it. So, you resorted to getting one of those alarms that you had to shoot with a fake laser gun. Apparently, having to concentrate on aiming combined with its highly annoying screeching sound is supposed to wake you up. You were hopeful when it worked for two mornings in a row. Hopeful until you confused the laser gun with your real gun and unceremoniously shot a hole in your wall. You were definitely awake after that shot rang out in your room, but Tony made a big deal of using ‘real bullets’ as an alarm. Kill joy.

That brought you to this morning. It was, ugh, six o’clock in the morning and you trudged through the community kitchen on a valiant quest for caffeine. For some reason, you thought that maybe training in the morning may help adjust you to a morning routine. What a fucking stupid idea. Somehow, you filled up the pot and loaded up the coffee without making too much of a mess. With your eyes practically closed, you waited for the addicting aroma of coffee beans to fill your nose.

“Norns, what are you wearing?!” The velvety voice caught your attention, but all you did was hum sleepily and turned toward the source. It was Loki, sitting on the couch across from the open kitchen reading his book. Apparently, he was one of those morning people or maybe he didn’t sleep? Either way, he looked wide awake, and you were jealous. Ugh, you were so, so jealous.

“What?” You asked, your tiredness slowing down your ability to process literally anything to a snail’s pace. Your heart ached for your bed, and you couldn’t help but whine a bit at the thought. Loki’s snicker brought your attention back to him. Wow, his voice could totally lull you to sleep. Sleep…you missed it so much you could cry.

“On your head, Darling.” What was on your head?! You patted around your face and when it smacked the headband still around the crown of your head, you harrumphed.

“Sleepy band,” You lazily pointed to it. The head band that not only blocked out the light, but played white noise to lull you into a deep sleep. It was one of the many contraptions you bought to try and help your sleeping habits. The hair on your head probably looked ridiculous, since you just woke up and the stupid head band was still on, but you didn’t care.”

“Helps sleep.”

Hearing the familiar sounds of the coffee machine, you knew your brew was done. You filled your coffee cup almost to the brim and kept the coffee black. You were bad ass like that. Or at least desperate to feel at least a little bit awake. Without even thinking, you trudged over to where Loki sat on the couch. In your mostly asleep state, you completely missed the smirk that graced his beautiful face. Ah yes, his stupid, beautiful face.

As far as you knew, your crush for the god was unknown to the Avenger’s team and to the god himself. You had an excellent poker face, but you couldn’t help but feel little butterflies in your stomach whenever he glanced your way. Stealing sneaky glances at him was your favorite thing to do and if it came with an Olympic medal, you would have the gold many times over. Your eyes would dart over the sharpness of his cheekbones, into his steely blue eyes, and down his long, black locks that you just adored when they curled. Sometimes you would consider sneaking into his room to steal his hair products so you could see those curls in their full glory but knowing him he had an enchantment on his room to keep out unwanted guests. So, you never risked it.

And while you were a strong Avenger in your own right, a high caliber assassin much like Black Widow actually, next to Loki you felt so…average. The man wasn’t actually a man. He was a god, and he showed his skill and lethality in the training rooms and in the field. Whenever he used his seidr, you were awestruck. Seriously, if he had a fan club you would be the head of it with your obsessive fan poster and everything plastered proudly on your wall. But you were just you, a mortal, and he could do so much better than you.

So, if you weren’t delirious from being so tired, you would have been absolutely mortified when you laid down on the couch next to him and placed your head in his lap. The coffee you made was forgotten on the coffee table in front of you. Loki’s smirk was long gone, and he was frozen, now with a sleepy mortal in his lap. He had no idea what to do! When was the last time he was touched? Let alone have someone lay so intimately with him. He blamed it mostly on his intimidating demeanor and his criminal past, but it didn’t mean he didn’t long to be held. He mostly got his affection fixes from his dear mother, but now with her gone he found himself touch starved.

“Mortal, what are you doing?” Loki couldn’t help but feign annoyance. There was no way that he would let on that your presence in his lap was nice, comforting even.

“Warm. Snuggles.” You said through a long yawn. Any look of annoyance on Loki’s face vanished instantly and replaced with a soft smile. Soft. You were so soft and warm yourself, laying so sweetly in his lap. Looking at you closer, a new feeling began to stir within him. The word adorable crossed his mind and mixed feelings of fondness and anxiety swirled in his gut. But, before he could get lost in this new concoction of feelings, you grabbed his hand and placed it under your head. Loki’s hand was your new pillow, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle into it.

This was completely new territory for Loki. The little boy within him felt lost and overcome with a whirlwind of thoughts and anxieties. Why were you laying here and, essentially, cuddling with him? Did you like him? Before today, you barely spoken a word to him outside of anything Avenger related. Now, here you were, in his lap.

Norns, what is he doing?! It was as if his heart took over his body and now his other hand was carding through your hair in long, loving strokes. He loved the feeling of your soft hair in his hands, and he loved the purr that came from your lips even more. It felt so intimate, and he was greedily drinking it up like the thirsty man he was. Eventually, those purrs turned into quiet snores. Never did Loki think that he would find snores cute, but today was a good day for many firsts he guessed. The rest of the Tower would be waking soon, or returning from early morning trainings, and despite not wanting to leave the warmth that was you, he couldn’t risk others seeing him in such a…. compromising position. Ever so gently, he slipped out from under you and placed a blanket over your sleeping form.

Loki took one last look at you; he noticed the soft curve of your parted lips, the slope of your nose, and the slightest of flush on your cheeks. How did he not notice how enchanting you were before? He heard the loud, boisterous voices of some of the other Avenger’s coming down the hallway and he took it as his cue to leave, leave and consider what all of this meant.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!” Tony’s voice all but yelled in your ear and you jolted up so fast, you almost knocked him out. You slowly blinked your eyes, trying to get adjusted to the light. Groaning was all you could do. Fuck the mornings, seriously.

“Don’t worry, Kid,” Steve said in an attempt to comfort you, “You will adjust soon.” He was always so optimistic, but you couldn’t help but feel defeated. You didn’t even remember coming in the kitchen let alone falling asleep on the couch. Seriously, what is wrong with you?! You left the room, your tail between your legs, and went on with the rest of your day.

But the rest of your day got weird. Real weird. Eventually you made your way down to the training room after taking a shower and transforming from a bridge troll into an actual human being. Loki was there training with Thor. It wasn’t like you had timed this perfectly, having paid excruciating close attention to his daily schedule. Nope. No way. You were wrapping your hands to go to town on the punching bag when it happened. His hot breath on your ear and your neck.

“Hello, Darling. Fancy a cuddle?”

Your body involuntarily shuddered in excitement at his honeyed voice so close to you, but as soon as you regained your senses - you froze. What the hell? Did he like you?! Or was this another one of his pranks. The masochistic part of your heart was assuming the latter. When you felt his large hands on your arms, you whipped around to face him.

“What are you doing?!” Your eyes were wild, the bewilderment very apparent on your face. Seeing your shock threw Loki for a loop. Now, it was his turn to be confused. What happened to the snuggly person who made a home on his lap? Did you not remember? Loki was also the God of Lies and he saw nothing but genuine confusion in your eyes.

“Well, I couldn’t just help myself. You looked so warm and, dare I say, snuggly.” He grinned, echoing your words from this morning. The clueless expression on your face was priceless. With a charming wink, he left you flustered and confused. Oh, he is going to have fun with this!

The plan was all about timing. The trickster was hoping for a repeat of your cuddly encounter, and should you be caught by the other Avengers? Why, what a scandalous position you would be in. Especially since you would be in the lap of the one and only Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief, and former war criminal. Quite the scandal indeed. It absolutely had nothing to do with him missing your warmth, your closeness – not at all. The next day, just as he expected, there you were, trudging into the kitchen like the walking dead.

“Good morning, Darling,” He called out from his position on the couch.

“Coffee.” You groaned. Loki watched you slam the pot into the coffee maker, and he figured you didn’t get as much sleep as you had hoped.

“Yes, coffee, my dear.” He cooed, and opened his arms wide, “Come here, sweet thing.” He surprised himself at the flood of pet names that poured from his mouth, but it felt right. It was a risky move, inviting you into his arms like he did. Maybe yesterday was a fluke and you knew exactly what you were doing to tease and torment him. He didn’t know you that well, outside of being a fellow member of the Avengers, but he knew you were sweet. The darling of the Avengers. You were too sweet to do something cruel like that. The feeling of regret started to swell within him as he sat there, arms spred wide like Rose on the bow of the Titanic, waiting for you. And you did nothing. You stood there for what felt like an eternity and for a God who lived for a thousand years already, it was agonizing. It was your little sigh of relief that soothed him.

You started the morning at a snail’s pace, but you all but raced into Loki’s arms. He had hoped for you to curl up in his lap like you did yesterday, but again you surprised him. Instead, you crawled right into his lap and straddled him, your thighs on either side of his. Loki sucked in a breath as you nuzzled your nose against his neck and wrapping your arms under his. You were so sleepy, you missed his gasp and didn’t even care that you were a koala on your favorite tree, the God of Mischief himself. All you felt was his warmth as you melted into him, inhaling his scent of pine and something that could only be described as distinctly Loki.

Just like last morning, Loki stiffened in your embrace but only for a moment. It took him under a minute to melt just as deeply into you, wrapping his arms around your small frame and holding you close. He couldn’t deny it any longer. He loved the feeling of your body in his arms. All scandalous plans went out the window as he inhaled your scent, nuzzling his nose into your hair. Again, he felt you relax in his arms and succumb to sleep. The sounds of your soft snores were music to his ears; a melody he never expected to love.

Loki was never one for being soft. Even during his childhood, he had to showcase his strength and his abilities as he was compared constantly to his older, golden child brother, Thor. All his time was devoted to educating himself, his training, and pursuing the crown. There was no time for softness. Time for partners that tangled with him in his sheets, sure, but never anything past that. His life lacked intimacy and any closeness he had experienced came from one woman, the only person who loved him unconditionally: his mother. Now, he was experiencing that tender closeness with you, and he couldn’t find the will to let you go. Loki was greedy for you, and he planned to indulge for as long as you let him.

Loki’s head suddenly perked up. He heard the footsteps and the voices. His plan! He had totally forgotten about his plan to cause a scandal in the Tower. In the few moments that he had you on his lap and in his arms, he had a change of heart. The God of Mischief’s tricks would have to wait because he had no plans on sharing you and this secret tenderness with anyone else. With the flick of his wrist, Loki used his seidr in a swirl of green and transported you and him to his bedroom. There, you still sat in his lap, now on his bed with Loki’s back to his headboard. He was amazed that you hadn’t woken from his use of magic. The corner of his mouth curved up in a sly grin. You were definitely a deep sleeper. Maybe he could continue his tricks after all.

A sigh escaped your lips as you adjusted a bit on his lap, lulling your head against his shoulder. The soft puffs of your breath on his pale neck caused the God to shudder and he couldn’t help but turn to get a better look at you. Your eyelashes were long and curved at the end, your skin was supple, and your lips looked pillowy and soft. He had taken a long look at you yesterday as well, and he found himself enjoying these quiet moments of study with you. It was a good way to start the morning, he decided. Peaceful, even. Feeling a bit brave and of course mischievous, he planted a tender kiss on your temple. You shifted a little, but still you slept. Well, the challenge is on!

Feeling bolder still, he placed another kiss on the tip of your nose. It scrunched a bit at the sweet gesture and Norns, was it adorable. But still, you slept. Next, kisses were placed on both the apples of your cheeks. There was a slight flush to your skin and your squirmed in his lap a bit, but still you slept. His eyes searched your face for a while, waiting for you to wake up. It amazed him how any of his touches went unnoticed by you. The line of a trickster facing a challenge and a man emboldened by longing has long since blurred. Loki just knew he wanted more. The softness that was you was addicting and he, much to his surprise, was starting to want to be soft to you. You, sweet, precious thing, you deserved it all.

The urge to keep kissing your face was too much to resist, so he chose simply not to. He planted more kisses on the tender skin of your eyelids. Your eyes fluttered about under your eyelids, and he chucked a bit to himself, wondering if his touches were invading your dreams. Secretly, he hoped that he was. But seriously, how were you still asleep?! Loki knew what his last option was at testing to see if he could sweetly wake you, but he wasn’t sure if he could do it. For the first time in a long time, the prince lacked courage.

Then he heard you murmur his name. Did he hear that correctly? There was no mistaking it. You spoke his name in your sleep and you said it so sweetly, with so much dreamy adoration that all hesitation left him. Loki surged forward and placed his lips on yours. Well, that certainly woke you up! Instantly your eyes popped open, and you let out a startled squeak, pulling yourself away from the god as you caught your bearings. Where were you? Who was speaking to you?

Loki.

Your eyes snapped to his and the grin he flashed at you was nothing less than the devil’s smirk, yet there was something unreadable in his eyes. Something new. But how the hell did you end up here? Were you seriously in his lap?!

“What the hell, Loki?! How did I end up here? Am I in your room?!” You said quickly, your head swiveling around as panic set in. You attempted to scramble off his lap, overcome by embarrassment, but his iron grip around your waist kept you firmly in place.

“Well, good morning to you too, Darling.” The smirk on his face had since been replaced by a soft smile. Then, with a gentleness you never thought he ever was capable of, he reached forward and fixed a stray lock of hair that had fallen in front of your face. You gaped at him, in shock, as your brain started to fully wake up and process what had happened. He had kissed you!

“You crawled into my lap, Darling,” Your eyes widened in disbelief, and he huffed a breathy laugh, “It is true, dear. You made me your new bed, but if we are being honest…I found that I liked it. Quite a bit, actually. I didn’t want the others to see and so I took you here until you woke up.”

The gears in your head were turning. You had dreams of snuggling up close to Loki, but maybe they weren’t dreams. They were memories! You groaned and hid your face in your hands, hiding the fact that you were now red as a ripe tomato. Wait…he said he liked it! That can’t be right. The curiosity of the situation encouraged you to peek bravely through your fingers. All you saw was Loki and his quirked brow. How did he make confusion look so attractive? His rough fingers wrapped around your soft ones and brought your hands down from your face. Much to your surprise, he did not let go of your hands. Instead, he rubbed soft, reassuring circles with his thumbs across your flesh.

“Yo-You said,” You cleared your throat, trying to stop your stammer, “You said you liked it.”

“That is correct.” He said it so simply!

“But why? We don’t really talk. You kissed me!” He let out a hearty laugh and your stomach did a flip at the sound.

“I sure did, Darling.” Then he suddenly become quiet, shy almost, “I am not one for…closeness. So, when you crawled into my lap, I honestly didn’t know what to do. It had been a while since I had been that close to anyone really and so I admit I was a bit selfish in my indulgence. Your warmth, your sweetness, I found it captivating, and I didn’t want it to end.”

He took a long breath and downcast his eyes, suddenly finding the fabric of his bedsheets super interesting.

“I know it wasn’t proper what I did, kissing you while you slept, and I truly apologize if I crossed any lines. I meant no disrespect, truly. But I admit, since yesterday I couldn’t stop thinking about you. All I wanted was to be close to you again and I couldn’t help but indulge yet again.” He lifted his eyes and they connected with yours, his newly found affection for you shining through them, “These past two mornings have been the most peaceful I have ever had and I just know that I would like to stay close with you like this.”

He suddenly shook his head, throwing his hands up in a defense even though you stayed frozen in place.

“Not just physically. I would love to get to know you more. Maybe take you on…. what do you Midgardian’s call it? Right, a date.”

All your muscles tensed, and Loki felt it, the heaviness of his words still lingering in the air. You slowly processed all that he said, realizing he shared more with you in these few moments than he may have with most of the team. Maybe with anyone. It shocked and appalled you to think that he hadn’t been held in so long. Wasn’t he over a thousand years old? He must have been so lonely, so touch starved. It broke your heart. But the butterflies in your stomach had a mind of their own as they fluttered about. You knew in your heart of hearts how much of an honor this was. You were now the keeper of at least one of the secrets of Loki of Asgard.

“Please say something.” Loki’s nerve wrecked voice pulled you from your thoughts. Apparently, you had just been staring at him, mouth opening and closing as you thought what he said. The normally overconfident god now looked so fragile, so unsure. So, you did the first thing you thought of to truly convey your feelings, to show him without a shadow of a doubt there was nowhere else you wanted to be right now. You kissed him.

First, he mimicked the same surprise you had when he first kissed you, but unlike you, he quickly returned the kiss. You melted into each other, soft at first, then with more passion. You slung your arms around his neck and tugged at his curls that you adored so much. By the time you parted, you both were breathless, grinning fools. Your foreheads pressed together trying to get closer still, even though you were still snuggled up on his lap.

“So, I take it that’s a ‘yes’?” The joy in Loki’s voice was infectious and your heart swelled in pride that you made this god smile like a giddy boy with a crush.

Maybe you could become a morning person after all.

-----

Tag List @theaudacitytowrite @lokisprettygirl @lostgreekgod

[asher-writes]

This writing is a prelude (sort of) to Cardinal Sins! If you enjoy it, please feel free to ask to be added to the CS taglist, where you will be tagged in snippets, character sheets and playlists!

This was written for @flashfictionfridayofficial​ ‘s prompt.

Genre: fantasy, apocalyptic

Word Count: 974

-

Within the heart of the forest, there is stillness. The trees stand tall and proud where no breeze dares to disturb them, their hulking figures drenching the forest floor in their protective shadows.

There is what was once a clearing, where wildlife carefully scamper around, clearly aware of the fact that they are on sacred ground. The sun streams through the dense forestry in sparse freckles of light, falling in a halo upon a coffin made of glass. Around it grows wild bushes of thorned roses, and, further out, tall strands of hemlock, warning off any creature that dares to approach it.

The silence stretches, broken only by the gentle chirps of a single Robin, who gently lays a berry at the base of the ring of hemlock, before fluttering away.

The wind begins to stir, gently, perhaps in warning, or something more excited. Moments away, there is the sound of a metal gate opening, a gate that no person should be able to open with their bare hands alone. The gate to the forest.

The animals begin to scatter, perturbed by their haven being disturbed. The heavy clink of decorative chains and thick boots puncture the quiet of the sanctified grounds as a stranger passes on their territory. But the forest remains calm, it shows no rage, no difference to the interloper, and so the animals sit quietly to the side and wait for the newcomer to reach their destination.

The stranger exhales nervously, watching the eyes of squirrels and birds and a hive of rats like some odd procession to a fate they have never been able to escape. Still, they continue, because they must, because it is their fate to do so.

As they stand in the clearing, eyes falling on the sunlit casket, they exhale a shaky sigh.

“It’s always the damn fey,” they mutter quietly, “…every time something weird happens in my life, there’s a damn faery there.” With a shake of their head, they slide a heavy archer’s bow off of their back. “Right, you better land this one well, we quite literally only get one shot,” they instruct the bow, which does not outwardly respond.

They grip the riser of their bow, not used to such a close target. Still, it’s a difficult one to land through the overgrown foliage. Or it would be, perhaps, for a lesser archer.

The hive of rats scarper forward, carrying between them a glass arrow. The stranger grimaces, leaning down to take it off of them. They don’t wish to insult the animals of the forest, especially not in their own domain, but they know the rats can tell they aren’t fond of them. “Sorry,” they apologize. The rats scarper away.

“Glass?” They ask, to no answer, “…alright then.”

They’ve shot a thousand arrows in their life, many of them enchanted or cursed in some way. That much is not new for them, they’d lived a long life, after all. Still, that doesn’t mean that they’re unperturbed by a glass arrow. Anyone with common sense would be perturbed by a glass arrow, especially one enchanted by the fey.

“Ready?” They load the arrow. The bow tenses in their hand, and they nod, lifting it to take their aim.

A sweat forms on their brow, heart rate elevating. The shared nervousness between the stranger and their bow radiates through the entire forest. But they can’t afford to shake, or falter, so instead they hold their breath. And release.

The arrow lurches forward at an impressive velocity, striking a golden plate on the casket’s lid. Foolishly, some part of them still expects it to shatter; but instead they watch with abject fascination as the golden plate seems to distort around it, and then grip it. Like a key sliding into a lock, it turns. They swallow dryly, stepping back as the bow is lowered to their side.

“Can I go now?” They whisper. A fox begins to approach them, pausing before turning. They glance back at the coffin once, but at the sound of a heavy clunk, they decide they do not want to be here when a starving king awakens. Instead, they turn to follow the fox at a hurried pace.

Behind them, the sound of a hand slamming against glass fills the almost silence. Even when they reach the gate, they can still hear it. “Is this the right thing to do?” They ask the fox, the fox stares back curiously. “I know the consequences of waking the king early, and if you’ve decreed it, then I accept, but there will be a lot of pain for this, is this price worth it?”

The fox bows its head low, and they nod. “Then may you have mercy on us all.”

They step through the gate onto the street, bow slung over their back.

The street opens up with a crackle of light, a circle of space missing where it had once been, instead showing a tunnel that mirrors an entirely different place. The sound of glass shattering reaches their ears, and with a heavy heart, they step through the portal. It closes behind them with the noise of thunder, leaving only an open gate to show that they’d been there at all.

Within the heart of the forest, there is a casket surrounded by overgrown wilderness and shattered glass. Small drops of blood fall heavily onto the sprouting hemlock, bringing colour to their moody leaves. A pair of deep green eyes stare hungrily into the world around them, sharp teeth bared as a starved growl rips from their throat.

The trees begin to shake and tremble, the wind beginning to howl. The sounds of the scuttling animals reach a crescendo with a vicious howl that rips from the newly freed creature’s throat, all speaking one singular truth:

The king has risen.

[murderousginger]

Raggle Taggle

Bonnie Gold x reader

Word count: 827

Warnings: Cheating? Abusive husband. They're criminals, guys, they do bad things.

Based on this song.

Bonnie first saw her at the market one morning, fresh faced and beautiful as she looked at fruit to pick and bring home. He knew nothing about her but as sure as he knew every curve of the ring, he wanted to know each curve of her body. Some things just fit and Bonnie knew when he saw her that morning that he would do anything to fit against her like the glove on his hand. Some things were meant to be.

He needed to know her. He also didn't want to scare her. He went to the market every day for two weeks, watching from afar, looking for her. He figured out her schedule relatively quickly. She liked going first thing in the morning, an early riser no doubt, to have first pick of the booths. She walked with her head up and no lolly-gagging, but shied as soon as she spoke. He ached to hear her voice, but stayed far enough away that her voice never carried to his ears.

The morning he finally gathered his courage, he stood beside the apples and looked through them as he awaited her morning visit. When she floated beside him, he picked up an apple and turned to her.

"This one's perfect. You should take it," he said as he extended his hand out to her.

His breath hitched as she turned to him and he saw the purple ringing her eye.

"Oh, no I couldn't," she fumbled as she smiled and darted her eyes from his gaze to the ground. "You found it. It's yours."

"No, no," he found his voice as he placed it in her hand, feeling the burn of her wedding ring as his fingers brushed hers. "A beautiful lady deserves the best."

Her smile bloomed in front of him and his heart soared. He wanted to be the one to make her smile everyday for the rest of his life.

That was the entirety of their contact but it left him light, floating home with a whistle on his lips.

It became regular for them to talk at the market. He learned she was married to a man much older than her, and he learned over time that when old bruises faded new ones would rise. It took many meetings and the ringing of her laugh one day for him to gather the courage to ask her.

"Does your husband hit you?"

She looked away as she bit her lip.

"He says I do things wrong," she said softly. "And a good wife should know how to do things."

"A man that hits a woman isn't a man," Bonnie muttered. "He's definitely not a husband."

Her eyes lifted to meet his as a soft smile spread across her lips.

----

Her husband found them by dawn. His white horse loudly crashing through the woods as they drew nearer to the camp.

Bonnie's father Aberama trekked outside, rifle in his hand.

"Where is she?!?" His voice boomed.

"My boy's a bit of a romantic, you see, and he fell in love--"

"With my wife!" He bellowed. "She's my property and I'll have her back this instant."

"I can understand your anger, sir, but no one is property on these lands," Aberama said calmly as his hands flexed upon his gun. "The lady will go where she pleases."

"I-I'd like to stay with Bonnie," you stammered, hiding yourself behind him like a child. Your heart beat wildly as you saw your husband's anger rise.

"You have no right!" He bellowed. "You'll be destitute! You're leaving a big warm house, a providing husband, a good life--"

"An abusive husband for love," Bonnie said. "Get off your mare and I'll show you what we do to men that hit their wives."

She gripped his shoulder, pleading for Bonnie to stop as her husband puffed as he shuffled on his horse. Aberama aimed his gun as he watched the man.

"I'm staying here," she said quietly.

"I'll not lose a wife to a--"

"Then say I ran away," she shot back as she huddled against Bonnie. "Or died. I'm dead to you now. Find a better wife."

"You'll be dead to everyone--" he growled as a loud crack shot through the woods. His horse reared back at the noise.

Aberama looked pointedly at the man.

"It's time for you to go."

Bonnie wrapped his arm around her as the man turned his mare to leave. All three watched the man leave, muttering curses the entire way.

"He'll be back," she said softly. "With others."

"We'll be long gone, love," Aberama said as he set the butt of the rifle on the ground.

"We'll be sleeping under the stars in a field far from here," Bonnie said into her hair as he wrapped around her. "You'll never be on the same patch of earth as him again."

She kissed him soft and long as the sun chased the shadows away.

[sunshinewrit-ing]

Archery for Writers

Basic Terminology 

Archer/Bowman: a person who shoots with a bow and arrows

Stringer: a device used to bend the limbs of the bow to allow the string to be attached

Bowyer: one who makes bows

Torque Flight Compensator (TFC): a device used to absorb vibration

Toxophilite: a student or lover of archery

Tab: protector for string-fingers to prevent chafing

Peak Draw-weight: maximum weight held by an archer while drawing the bow

Grip: where the hand is placed on the riser

Quiver: pouch, usually worn around the waist, on the back, or placed on the ground, used to hold arrows

Fletching: the feathers (or “wings) attached at the back of an arrow

Draw-weight: weight held by an archer at full draw

Bracer/Arm-guard: protective arm covering for bow-arm

Recurve, Longbow, Compound, and Crossbow

1. Recurve Bows

The recurve bow is as close to a survivalist, self-reliant hunting bow as you can get without completely losing all technology. They’re relatives to the longbow and date back over thousands of years. Mastering a recurve bow takes more practice than a compound bow because they rely entirely on the user’s strength. They may be lighter and easier to carry, but they require more force to draw. Recurve bows also require the user to be closer to their target, which involves more technique and talent than just the shooting of the bow such as stealth and concealment tactics.

2. Compound Bows

Compared to the recurve and the longbow, compound bows require less practice because they rely less on physical strength. They also allow more accuracy and power from a greater distance making related skills such as stealth and concealment less important. Compound bows also allow much more customization and are made to accommodate tools such as scopes and stabilizers. Because of how many mechanisms there are, stringing, tuning, and maintaining the bow requires more gadgetry and skill. They’re also heavier and bigger than a traditional bow like the recurve, but used more frequently in hunting.

3. Longbows

The longbow is similar to the recurve bow and is differentiated from it mainly by its shape. It has a straight grip and is commonly thought of as a half-moon shape. It has a greater depth than the recurve but is thinner and wider. Because of the thicker depth, it’s harder to shoot a straight arrow and requires more practice.

4. Crossbows

Crossbows are known to have superior accuracy. Once they’re cocked, you can fully concentrate on aiming rather than keeping tension on the string while aiming like you’d do with a traditional or compound bow. They’re also very quiet and don’t make loud noises when shot, giving you the opportunity to take a second shot if you miss the first one. It also requires much less upper body strength to operate the weapon and is easier to aim. Crossbows date back to 600BC in Ancient China and could be used by an untrained soldier to injure or kill a knight in a plate of armor. 

Arrows

A Brief History of Archery

1. North Africa 

Archery was used for both hunting and warfare

Some Egyptian deities are connected to archery

Many of the archers in Egypt were commonly referred to as Medjay and were of Nubian extraction. 

Nubia as a whole would be referred to as Ta-Seti (“Land of the Bow”) by the Ancient Egyptians.

2. Mesopotamia

The Assyrians and Babylonians used the bow and arrow for hunting and warfare

Archers served as an integral division of the military in Mesopotamia

The Chariot warriors of the Kassites relied heavily on the bow

The Old Testament references archery as a skill identified with the ancient Hebrews.

3. Eurasian Steppes

The composite bow was first produced in the Eurasian Steppes during the Bronze Age

Domestication of horses and mounted horseback archery are believed to have originated in the Eurasian Steppes

4. India

The paleolithic paintings of Bhimbetka rock shelters depict archery

Vedic hymns in the Rigveda, Yajurveda, and Atharvaveda lay emphasis on the use of the bow and arrow

The composite bow in India was being used by 2nd millennium BCE

The  bow was used extensively on foot as well as on chariots

5. Greco-Roman Antiquity 

The people of Crete practiced archery

Crete was known for its unbroken tradition of archery

Apollo is the god of archery

Heracles, Odysseus, and other mythological figures are often depicted with a bow

Julius Caesar’s armies in Gaul included Cretan archers

6. East Asia

Archery was one of the Six Noble Arts of the Zhou dynasty

Archery skill was a virtue for Chinese emperors

[archievictrola]

Ooooo I can add to this!! My cool hobby that I love is archery and my bow is definitely the most expensive thing I own oop. The cool thing about it is that it's actually lots of components that I've bought over the years to build up to a full bow.

The bowstyle I shoot is called Olympic recurve (though I am far from shooting in the Olympics myself lmao) and it has LOADS of stuff added onto what most people would think of when they picture a bow.

I don't have any pictures of my bow that don't also feature me, but I can show off the model and how it all fits together!

The main part of a bow is the riser; it's basically the handle and the most important bit (at least to me). It's also where a lot of personalisation can come in - my riser is purple and I love it!!! Here's a picture of the model I have hehe

My own is the middle one but I was very tempted by the blue one too - my friend has the silver one and he wove ribbons and flowers through the holes in the riser which looked honestly stunning.

The limbs are the bendy bit on the bow, and they determine the length and the poundage of the bow. Different people shoot bows of different lengths due to their draw length - my draw length is bang on average at 28" so I shoot an average length bow, which is 68" (so when it's fully strung it's the same height as me!) but I've seen bows as short as 64" and as long as 72".

After the limbs and the string, there's also the sight - which is what we use to aim - and the stabilisers, which are used to balance out the bow. Here's a full set up:

They are super hefty once you put all the stuff onto them!! And there's even a few other little pieces - one of my favourites is the clicker, which sits on the riser over the arrow, and once the tip of the arrow goes past it, it snaps closed against the riser, making a clicking sound. This is set up for each individual archer to match the length of your arrows and where you need to draw to to get to a consistent shot, and is literally just a Pavlovian response. Like, when I hear my clicker go I don't even think, I just release the arrow - I even once released early because I heard my friend's clicker go off next to me lmao. So while drawing a bow is very controlled and calculated, that moment of release is very instinctual.

One thing that confuses a lot of people when they watch recurve archers is the fact that the bow swings really dramatically when we release - that's all due to the stabilisation set up and the fact that, when we're drawing the bow, we're not actually holding it, the tension from pulling the string back pushes the bow against our hand, but we don't actually grip it, which means when we release, it literally flies out of our hand. We have things called finger slings, which hold onto the bow, but I have seem people's finger slings break and their bow does literally just fly out of their hand. It's a really hard skill to learn because everyone's natural instinct is to grab the fast moving thing, so it takes a good bit of training to teach yourself not to, but it ends up with a much more smooth shot. Here's an example:

It's a super fun sport!! If you want to watch any, I would highly recommend the Kings of Archery tournament because my word they really get into it.

The other cool thing with archery is it doesn't all have to be shot all from the same distance in a standard setting (that's what we call target archery) but there's also cool variations like field, where you travel around the woods and shoot at targets that are at different distances and at weird angles. Coolest shot I've ever done is at 55m across a river, and the target was between the trunks of a tree that had separated off from each other, and I had to shoot into this gap. There was another shot on that course where we shot at about 25m horizontally, but the target was like 20m up a sheer quarry wall, so we were shooting at almost a 45 degree angle, truly crazy stuff. I'd also highly recommend watching some field archery videos!!

I think a lot of people assume that archery must be really violent or fast paced, but honestly it is so peaceful, and most people I know who do archery find it very relaxing.

So yeah, that's my cool thing!

Would any of my mutuals or followers be willing to show any cool collections or hobbies they have? Photos, videos, lists, anything you love and want to share. Pets, knives, rocks, knitting projects, art or writing wips, amazing outfits, etc. Or instead you could say some cool facts about you, or something you’ve always wanted to share. PLEASE info dump me. I love essays of what people are passionate about, literally anything. This is a post for you to brag on. Show what you’ve bought or commissioned, or show the most expensive thing you own. I would just like to learn more about the people on here and what makes you human :)

Tagging: @eaveplzzz @spydrrr @deliriousdingo @mo-the-vagabond @i-have-zero-social-skills @wesley-in-space @archievictrola @atrociousmagpie @n30nwrites @vaxxy-the-raven @theylovewinnie @lithdraug @thechronicsloth @themurderofcrowscollective @spacemanxpaninis @fanby-fckry @thedomesticanthropologist @kililvr @streetlight-haver @chickada and anyone else who wishes to join! This is also not obligatory, I don’t want to force people to do something they aren’t comfortable with!

[hopalongfairywren]

Youth

for #cErynPromptWeek. I am getting this done now because I know I will loose my creativity and you gotta write when the moments come y’know?

Day One: First Lore Stream, his origin story.

Eryn still remembers his parents, all these years later. He remembers meeting Tommy for the first time, in the middle of summer. It had been so hot and sunny, it almost reminded Eryn of the Nether. His father had insisted on him coming to the Overworld at least once or twice, just to see what it was like, and Eryn was never one to back out of a challenge. The Overworld was bright and damp and cold, even when the sun was baring down on them, their was still a deep, uncomfortable chill in his bones. Eryn supposed that was the demon side of him.

And as most bored children do, Eryn was fooling around with his father’s bow. It was high quality, made of oak wood and with a freshly polished riser. He knew, deep down he wasn’t supposed to be using his father’s bow, but Eryn had also never been one to follow the rules either. And the bow had Unbreaking and Infinity enchantments on it! You couldn’t blame him for being curious! Besides, the had brought his own arrows with him to practice his aim. 

Eryn carefully tugged back the bowstring, and fired. The arrow landed square into the tree, and made a satisfying noise. And then a not so satisfying noise when a loud voice yelled out; 

“Oi, watch it dickhead, you nearly shot me!” A slightly younger blond boy peaked out from behind the tree. He quickly scrambled forward, continuing to say many cursewords that Eryn wouldn’t dare use in front of his elders.

“Who are you, and why did you nearly shoot me bitch!” The boy said, pointing his finger at Eryn.

“I’m not a murderer, I didn’t nearly shoot you, I shot the tree. What are you doing hiding behind a tree?” Eryn shot back, and that seemed to suprise the kid into backing away and stammering.

“I didn’t mean-I’m sorry I didn’t mean you were a murderer, I just-Hah!” The boy broke off into nervous laughter, extending a bandaid covered hand to Eryn. 

“I’m Tommy, by the way. Can you teach me to shoot a bow?”

teaching him to use a bow, and subsequently learning to swim was a lot more enjoyable than Eryn thought it would be. He didn’t find himself regretting saying yes to either request. To teach Tommy archery or to take a dip with him in the lake an hour later when the blond boy was hot and panting. 

Eryn was never one for a challenge, so even though he wasn’t hot, and the water was cold, Eryn said yes.

He remembers wandering into the Dream SMP with Tina and Boomer, And He remembers the wailing screech of the prison sirens during Dream’s escape. He remembers war, and violence, and anarchy.

“Run boy, run.” A woman, a stranger urged him as she fled past with a bag of her belongings. Eryn gulped, turning back to face burning village. Piglins had raided it, and Eryn had ran from the wreckage with a sprained ankle and bloody nose. But he couldn’t find his parents. His father had been one of the men to grab their bows and arrows and surge forward to meet the invasion head on, and his mother had been at the marketplace that morning.

And so, with little else as an option, Eryn, never one to give up on a challenge, went through the swirly purple portal to the Overworld. He tried to ignore it’s eerie wailing best as best as he could. 

[pulaasul]

Malicious Gratitude

Azu appears to Amatsu Gai, Yaiba Yua, and Fuwa Isamu to thank them for their contribution in reviving Ark.

FFN I Ao3

@narashikari​, @asknarashikari​, @rainixdra​ soooo this is the zero-one fic with Azu I was writing. XD

--------

"The battle between Hiden Aruto and Horobi…" The Interim President of ZAIA Enterprise stated with dread. "It could escalate into an all-out war between Humanity and Humagears." He realized in horror as he clasped his hands together.

"And I guess, Ark thought it all up." Amatsu Gai forlornly supplied.

"Co~rrect," Another voice sang. "It was as Ark-sama concluded."

Fuwa and Yaiba immediately aimed their Shot Risers at the new girl, who bore an eerie resemblance to the Hiden President's late secretary.

"Izu?"

"Impossible…"

"In what way were we correct?" Gai did not waste time and asked his question.

"Hiden Aruto and Horobi's battle will be the key to giving rise to Ark-sama," The Izu lookalike answered. "When immeasurable malice is sown, Ark-sama will rise again."

"And Ark calculated all these all up?" Fuwa challenged.

"Humans are so predictable," The Izu lookalike smirked. "It was so easy to drag Hiden Aruto away from Zea."

"What do you mean?!" Yua's eyes narrowed. "Up until recently, Hiden Aruto was firmly on Zea's side."

"Are yo~u su~re?" The humagear sang as she smiled maliciously.

"No…" Gai's eyes were wide as he realized what he had done. "Metal Cluster Hopper."

Yua immediately looked at her former superior as she realized what she had done to the young president.

"No! I thought that was simply to lock him out of transforming into Zero-One!" Yaiba's snapped. "How could it have given Ark a connection to Hiden!"

"The President was not in control of his body when Metal Cluster Hopper first appeared," Fuwa growled as pieces began aligning to him as well. "It was thanks to Izu and the Humagears that believed in the President that he was able to control that form."

"No…"

"Buuuu~ buuuu~," The Izu lookalike smirked. "You've got the wrong answer!" She sang.

"Wha-"

"You were partially right," The humagear gave a sinister smile. "But there is one event that has connected Ark-sama to Hiden Aruto."

"The Assault Grip…" Yaiba expressed in horror.

"If you had wanted human malice, why did you not choose to take me over?" Fuwa questioned. "My memories may have been fabricated but the hatred I had for your kind was real."

"You were a candidate Fuwa Isamu." The Humagear revealed. "However, Hiden Aruto's vulnerabilities were more enticing than yours."

"Vulnerabilities?" Amatsu Gai couldn't help but question.

"Hiden Aruto was one of the strongest individuals I have known," Yaiba stated. "Even when faced with adversities, he still finds the time to crack jokes, however unfunny to some of us those were." She gave a subtle glance at her former colleague.

"Hiden Aruto never attended to his grandfather's funeral rites, did he?" Williamson asked himself. "He's an aspiring comedian too." He frowned as he puzzled the pieces.

"Looks like one of you has the full picture." The Izu lookalike sang.

"Amatsu Gai, what have you done?"

"Me?"

"No, what have you lot done to this person." Williamson asked as he slumped on his chair.

"The Assault Grip was just what gave us the connection." The humagear's smirk did not leave her face. "Everything else was done by Horobi and of course by Amatsu Gai."

Everyone looked at Gai, who simply gulped at the revelation.

"With Amatsu Gai exposing Hiden Aruto to human malice, he was left with having few humans on his side, and only humagears to confide in."

"The last step to that was removing the Humagear that had been with him since before his appointment as President of Hiden Intelligence," Fuwa and Yaiba came to the same conclusion. "You foresaw how Izu would die at Horobi's hands."

"Not with a little help from yours truly," The Izu lookalike maliciously smiled. "Showing Izu a simulation of how Horobi kills Hiden Aruto was the final push."

"I take it your appearance was no coincidence either?" Amatsu questioned.

"Correct," The Izu lookalike continued to smile. "Izu is the secretary connected to Zea, I am Azu, Ark-sama's secretary."

"Secretary." Fuwa scoffed.

"I am just here to thank everyone here for their contribution to Ark-sama's revival." Azu turned her back to the four humans and began walking away.

"Who said you could walk away from here!"

Azu paid little attention to Fuwa's words and merely continued to walk.

Fuwa pulled the trigger on his shotriser, only to miss Azu by mere inches as she continued on her way.

"Fuwa, Yaiba I'd appreciate if you won't turn my office into a bloodbath," Williamson stated. "Our goals have not been changed: eliminating Hiden Aruto before he could fight Horobi."

"We don't take orders from ZAIA anymore." Fuwa turned his back as Yaiba spoke.

"We will stop Hiden but we will save him." Yaiba followed Fuwa's lead as he spoke.

The two former members of AIMS walked out of the office, full of determination to save one of their one, one of the Kamen Riders.