🌱Adjective: 𝗙𝗼𝗿·𝘁𝘂·𝗶·𝘁𝗼𝘂𝘀. 🌱
Happening by accident or chance rather than design.
Similar: 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 and 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯
"While us meeting like this was unforeseen, I know the memories we create together won't fade into a...
You awoke to the early morning light like any other day; got dressed for your job, locked the doors while leaving the residence, and headed off down the street with breakfast in hand– a slice of toast. It started like any ordinary day, and you were going through it without a particular feeling– until a certain group of no-good troublemakers decided to show up.
You were in the process of tracking down a [NIGHTS] monster which was leading you through the alleys; your previous shot placement was too low and ended up breaking its leg. At least the blood trail made it easy to track, and after about twenty minutes you finally find it huddled amongst some trash bags. Steadily, you raise your gun and take aim at the creature's head– you draw a low exhale in, soon blowing it out through your mouth as your finger fastens itself over the trigger.
P o p !
The shot echoes off the surrounding buildings– yet instead of lowering your gun to check your shot placement once again; you find yourself falling to your knees– your hands loosening their grip on the weapon to hold your now throbbing head. Your red life source trickles out a prominent gash just below your right temple, and through your fingers. You watch in shock and fearful confusion as a little pool of blood is formed in front of where you are hunched over. "W-what," is all you can breathlessly utter as you try to wrap your head around what may have just happened. Questions flood your pulsating head– did the bullet ricochet? Is it merely a graze, or worse? Why is there so much blood? That's when, somehow, you hear a crowd of steps approaching you over the rushing of blood in your ears. You squint your eyes, wincing at the pain it causes to the injury as you lift your head to face the sound.
"Bullseye!" The teen boasts, a scary grin stretched across his face. At first, his words don't process in your brain until the blur fades from your eyes; and this is when the picture before you comes together. He holds a slingshot in his left hand, while in his right he bounces a golf ball sized stone up and down. His group of friends is smaller now though, and only three stand at his side instead of the six he used to have. This time around, you quickly decide it's best to not try reasoning with them first. You release your bleeding head, the injury growing crusty as the blood hardens; reaching out for your gun in a desperate attempt to defend yourself. A leg swings up out of nowhere and kicks it out of your reach. You let out a winded gasp as the situation you found yourself stuck in escalated further. Two of his friends each grab one of your arms, hoisting you off the ground whilst at the same time kicking your legs out from underneath you. "Let me go!" You scream at them, soon throwing your weight around in an attempt to dislodge their tight, squeezing grip. Maybe if you hadn't been struck in the head first, you would've stood a fighting chance against the four teens– but alas, the headache that currently made itself at home banging at the walls of your skull made it impossible for your efforts to last long.
