#Arctic Warfare

[karagin22]

[dragynkeep]

HANG ON……. for the ship bingo……….. have you gotten arctic warfare 🫡

my blorbos ... meant to burn together for the sins of their forefathers & the eternal conflict & that need thriving even throughout all that. so good. the good shit. ✨

[gomzdrawfr]

comms shenanigans

zoom

bonus doodle for tapioca, my no.1 supporter <3

[weathermanpolls]

Arctic Warfare Victory?!

With Ruby literally one step behind them.

Normie Ending

[no-one-fights-alone]

[persesphonestears]

Saw an incorrect quote thing from @blingblong55 with the request/idea from @san-emi and it gave me a silly idea.

So here's my sorta take on the joke though all credit besides the few things I changed up belongs to the two previously tagged.

TW'S - selfharm, humour as a coping mechanism, sorta dark topic, light-hearted, [as stated below this isn't a way to make light of selfharm, I've been through it and use humour and jokes like these to help cope.]

TW - Joke contains 'dark' humour or someone/[Reader] using humour to cope with selfharm. If this is triggering for you please don't read. {nothing graphic} (This is not me making light of people who use selfharm as a coping mechanism.) !!Keep reading at your own risk!!

Gaz: so R/n, what do you do in your free time when your not 'round us lot?

R/n: oh you know, the usual, cutting myself

Gaz: huh oh cool.. *registers what they said*…wot?

Soap, head perking up: ‘aye, com again lad?

*Ghost stares[glares] hard at R/n*

R/n: a lotta sLacK *slaps knees, wheezing* gotcha all there didn’t I? Huh? Ehhhhh? *under their breath* I'm so funny

Gaz: you little shit. really?

Ghost, muttering under his breath: bloody fuckin hell

Soap: steamin' Jesus mate... *nervous laugh*

R/n: Yeah but I mean I haven't relapsed in a while! *smiling like they didn't just admit to their whole team they probably need more mandatory therapy sessions*

Everyone besides R/n: *deadpanned* oh for fucks sake.

.Minutes later.

Price: Yes Laswell, they made another one. Yes of course I've told them to stop making jokes about it. Hell, I've even given them more training when they do it yet it continues! I just- get them more therapy sessions and talk with the therapist to see what medication they should be taking.

R/n: *in Prices office with a frown/pout for being told off again*

[identifying-guns-in-posts]

The rifle in your pfp is the L96 AWM right?

Well, first off, you have kind of just named two different guns. The L96A1 (Precision Marksman, chambered in 7.62x51mm NATO) and the Arctic Warfare Magnum (Arctic Warfare series, chambered in .300 Winchester or .338 Lapua) are both Accuracy International sniper rifles, but the L96A1 is effectively a predecessor to the rest of the Arctic Warfare based sniper rifles.

The original cartoon's dialogue references the story of the L96A1, though the drawing seems to be based on something within the AW line; possibly an AWM, but also very likely a standard 7.62mm Arctic Warfare, given the barrel proportions.

Once again, it's the presence of a picatinny rail for the optics instead of the bespoke dovetail scope mount, as well as the shape of the back underside of the stock, that identifies this as being a later model than the L96A1.

[frogblast-the-ventcore]

The British Ministry of Defence, checking to see that Accuracy International isn't just two guys in a shed: "Now, you're not just two guys in a shed with no large-scale manufacturing ability, are you?" Accuracy International (actually four guys and a girl in a shed with no large-scale manufacturing ability): "Absolutely not! We totally have a factory!" Some weeks later... MoD: "And this factory of yours we're touring... where are all the workers?" AI (having rented the factory on off-hours): "Uh... lunch break!" MoD: "... Understandable, have a nice day. Here's your contract."

Which gun is your overall favorite?

Accuracy International Precision Marksman

[rancid-filth]

[identifying-guns-in-posts]

Gun in the drawing is actually specifically the Accuracy International Arctic Warfare rifle (chambering uncertain, may be chambered in 7.62x51mm NATO, .300 WinMag, or .338 Lapua; chassis doesn't give much info from appearance alone, however the most likely answer is the original 7.62 variant given barrel proportions).

Somewhat ironic given the gun rant in question is about the Precision Marksman rifle (typically designated L96A1), which was the precursor to the AW series. You can tell it's an AW and not a PM / L96 because of the stock shape, particularly in the rear monopod's location and implementation, as well as the presence of a picatinny rail for the scope mount as opposed to the dovetail scope mount of the original PM.

Serval Gun Rant

[v1x3n]

TOO MUCH TO ASK? — s.riley

⸝⸝ PAIRINGS ⫶ simon 'ghost' riley x reader

⸝⸝ SYNOPSIS ⫶ you and simons broken relationship is crumbling faster than before, it only has simon reliving the past - wishing it could go back to normal.

⸝⸝ TAGS ⫶ angst - broken relationship, couples fighting, arguments, suggestive mentions, feeling unloved.

Seeing her walk into the room fills me with pure confusion. I don't know why we have been like this. The smiles as she walked in the room had turned into frowns as she looked my way. Looking over at Johnny, sighing to myself. How did it come to this? Am I too quick to assume that she isn't pissed anymore? Johnny chuckles to himself, seeing the lovers disappear, "is the love no longer in bloom?" joking as he nudges me. I don't understand what's so funny. "Fuck yourself Johnny." I retort in a huff. Johnny scoffs as my mind replays the fight from before. She had pissed me off, gone out drinking with mates she knows I hate, until 2am. It was like she was trying to avoid me. 10 or 11 was fine but 2am was too far, way too late. When she came home, drunk as fuck, throwing a fuckin' tantrum, tears flowing down her pretty ass face. They played a very different tune from what we did before that morning when she wanted attention from me.

Her head red raw as Johnny makes another snarky comment, "what, did he leave you on read?" cooing through his thick accent. She storms out of the room, bringing all her anger with her, lingering some around the room. Thoughts flow through my mind as I realise it's ending. The so-called ending doesn't sound like the happiest around. My other relationships' breaking points felt like nothing compared to this. Why did it have to end? I love her. Fake chatting with Johnny before leaving after following her. Striding through the corridors to find her quarters. Taking a small breath and knocking gently on the wood of the door. "love..? can I come in..?" taking a reliefed sigh as she opens it. Sad, lonely eyes look up at me. "what?" i take a small inhale then followed by an exhale, i let myself inside and shut the door behind me. "listen, when you sobbed before-" she cuts me off," its fine simon." my..name? She had never used my name, it was always cute silly pet names until now. Fuck i had messed up big. "it's not though, is it?" I grab onto her hand, but she pulls away instantly. "it's just the fight from yesterday." It felt much more like the product of a squabble. I could see her unable to make eye contact, taking a step away from me. Noticing her lack of her usual physical contact, I know now there's a reason for it to be something more."Just leave it, Simon." grumbling through her words, looking down at her feet.

Walking away from her quarters, making it to mine, coming up with ideas for how to get the spark we had back. Bumping into Price along the way, him fastly knowing I'm feeling down. "You good, mate?"

"Yeh" I chuffed, trying to hide the fuckin' pain in my voice. "Soap told is 'bout what's been goin' on." He takes a small pause and sighs softly, hands on his hips and looking into my eyes. "would me having a small chat with her create a bother?" thinking for a moment, breathing in and out, creating a small hesitatenly nod from me. "there would be." pitiously replying. "just treat her right then." shite advice captain. Like I wasn't being nice? Price fucks off as I open my door and lay down on my bed."Oh" I grumble, taking a while to relax myself, laying my head on the pillow and trying to settle myself. Checking my phone to see if she had called. its uncertian if she had fully closed off from me yet.whether the curtain had shut for good.deciding to get myself back up, seeing as it wasnt late yet; Only 5pm. Heading down to the mess hall, seeing her. Slowly making my way up to her, nervous about the interaction. I suggest, "Wanna go to the little pub you like?"

I could see her cogs turning, almost struggling to say something, like her mouth was taped shut. She said, "See if it's still raining, I'm not dressed for it." I let out a small sigh, not knowing what her answer would be. But hearing it was different. And then "if you loved me-" And I interrupted, received a scowl and stare, but still decided to stop her there. "so no date?" she pulls me back into my room and scoffs. Obviously this was another start to yet another fight. I am so sick of being unable to love her.

The fight starts, loud groans, even louder shouting. Tears. the whole package. "Would it be outrageous to say...We're either shouting or we're shagging?" she wails from her soft lips, I tried to hold myself back, to keep my cool, but it was no use. Every time we fought, it felt like a tidal wave crashing over me, drowning me in anger and frustration."It's like we are docked in tempestuous bays" or at least that's how it felt yesterday."Why can't you just listen to me for once?" she yells, her voice piercing through my ears. She sits down on my bed, the spot of many memories. Her eyes were getting heavier. I just want to go back to the way things were.

"Would a kiss be too much to ask?" I let out a sigh, feeling the frustration building up inside of me. Without a reply, I sit next to her, gently placing my arm around her waist as she covers her face with her hands. After taking too long to reply, she tries to reply but yet again I cut her off, "its a pity." taking her hands off her face, looking over and up at me. Seeing the gloomy, dazed, unresponsive gaze she gives me, it just hit me. We can't go back. All the cute memories from the first kiss, first time, to chest touching on the back.

I guess it was all too much to ask.

comment to join main taglist!

[aregularhuman]

house autism diagnosis fit this house autism diagnosis fit that- no. he would simply be forced to interact with a psychiatrist through a case or something (arctic lady???), and said also-morally-dubious psych would go ‘you’re autistic here’s your papers’ and then house would tell no one until he needed to weaponise it. if you think house would show up let alone sit through an assessment without performing psychological warfare on the poor psych idk what to tell you

[no-one-fights-alone]

[i-identify-guns-in-posts]

Hi gun identifier! I don't know if you do asks like these, feel free to ignore, but I'm a writer and I have two characters who wield guns and having specific models for them from the gun identifier sounds like a dream

One of them uses a Shotgun, I was going for something that was quick and very damaging in close range.

The other one uses a Sniper Rifle, as I was going for a more "distance" combat type of thing.

If this were you, what specific gun would you choose for these two characters?

well it's gonna depend on what time period this is happening in, what sort of aesthetic you want, whether you want the gun to be from a specific region of the world, etc.

for the shotgun, immediately, quick and close range, you've got a serbu super shorty.

Now this is a modified, not entirely practical, low capacity shotgun. If you want something more tactically reasonable, you can take a mossberg 500 series shotgun, for example the 500 cruiser

or an ithaca 37 "stakeout"

or one of many variants of a remington 870

if you're looking for semi automatic shotgun, look at any of the Benelli M super 90 series, like the M4 (this one has a retractable stock!)

that is, of course, a short SHORT list of what kind of shotgun a character could be represented with. There are many more, but like i said, depends on what sort of vibe you want. Do they want something classic, something more technologically advanced, do they modify their own guns, is this a standard issue gun, etc etc.

same for a sniper rifle! want something old and classic? Remington 700! even older and more classicer? a mosin nagant! something that's way more powerful? how about a .338 lapua magnum arctic warfare magnum! not powerful enough? AX50! Cheytac M200 Intervention! capable of long range but still compact and modern? Q The Fix! semi auto? SVD! PSG-1! G28!

(and yes here's all the pictures in order)

again, same thing, what time period, what region, what vibe. Feel free to come ask more questions, i'll help no problem!

[persesphonestears]

Another tattoo

(Gif not mine :>)

A/N: So I have to make this a more than one part series because I wrote like way too much and I’m gonna die if I don’t post this already. Also so sorry it’s only Ghost in this post, but promise the second part will have the others!! I actually had so much fun writing this like omfg, I don’t have any piercings or tats for myself thanks to money problems atm but like actually I don’t know where I was going with that- uh anyway enjoy! I’m very tired. (looking at the amount now seems rlly small so sorry :/) ALSO I FUCKIN HATE THE NAME TOO LEAVE ME ALONE.

CW: He/they pronouns used for reader(? I might have ended up just using they/them), Reader has tattoos and piercings, I DONT THINK I USED Y/N LES GOO, I call ghost Simon when he isn't at work, Probably incorrect tattoo health procedures, Reader may be a little bland when first meeting Ghost(?), small mentions of gods(?)

Word count: 1342

Simon was finally let off for a break, given it’s only because Price knew he wasn’t keeping himself healthy or sleeping, so being the ‘dad’ boss he is, Simon was forced to take time off. While Simon wasn’t even close to being happy about having to not stay at base and having to make himself food and all the other human necessities, he’d been wanting a new tattoo for some time now. While maybe some of the privates would simply tattoo each other with pen ink, he’d rather die on the field than die from an infection from a more than likely shitty tattoo.

Walking through the somewhat dodgy looking part of his hometown, looking for a seemingly decent tattoo shop. While walking his eye was caught by the small little tattoo shop that looked clean and not all that dodgy. A small bell as the door opened rang as Simon stepped through, looking around at the walls he was impressed with the artwork that was displayed. He could hear faint 2000s rock music in the background of the shop, standing awkwardly waiting to see if anyone was actually here.

Turning around to walk out, he heard a small crash and a string of curses that followed.

Simon stopped and turned to see a short tattooed and pierced person walking out from the back of the shop. “Hi, sorry I was uh..” their talking trailed off as he looked down to see a fresh and unfinished tattoo on their leg. Unknown to Simon, the person in front of him was just very very happy that they weren’t able to be seen from the back, preferring not to be caught staring at the huge 6’4 man in their shop. 

“Uh anyway, I’m guessing you don’t have an appointment cause I don’t have any till later tonight, but I take walk in’s, both for tats and piercings'' They rambled off as they walked around to the front desk checking through their computer, Simon watched them, surprised by the feeling of fluttering in his stomach. Pushing it away he cleared his throat “Uh yeah walk in, are you able to tat up my other forearm?” he was wearing a t-shirt under his hoodie, happy he wasn’t going to be taking his shirt off. “Mhm sure, I just need to ask a few questions and then get you to sign some consent forms, that cool?” He asked walking back around and sitting on one of the couch chairs at the front, taking a seat after them, Simon sat and agreed to the others' request.

“Cool, alright so first is which arm you want it on obviously and if you have any tattoos on your forearm already?” Simon answered with short and gruff answers “My right arm and no, my left is already tattooed(I think I can’t remember which arm of his is tatted).” “Right cool okay so I’m not gonna bother asking if you're of age because it's pretty obvious because holy shit you are probably the biggest and hottest man I’ve ever seen, but just read through these quick and sign ‘em” Thanking whatever gods there were for people not being able to read minds. Handing the forms to Simon he grabbed them and the pen from your hands, giving a quick read through signing where he had to. Putting them back on the desk, you grabbed them right back and skimmed through them, “Okay Simon, well what do you want?”.

—tiny time skip–

After setting everything up and placing the stencil of the sketch that you drew up (That Simon wouldn’t admit but absolutely adored) onto the gruff military man that was sitting in your chair. “Okay, you ready?” A simple nod was what you received in response. Instead of pushing you continued to go ahead and start his tattoo, not once deciding to ask about some of the many scars that graced his arms. Them seemingly adding onto your attraction for the stranger in your shop as he sat still and silent. Becoming; as you do when tattooing, engrossed in the soft buzzing, the hushed music of your playlist and the ink going into skin at your hand.

“How many do you ‘got?” The gruff voice from above me spoke as I continued to stab his skin. “Tats or piercings?” Responding with another question as I kept my focus on the shading, trying to not let the fact that this absolute 10/10 was asking you about yourself. Sure it was most likely to just make conversation but you could dream. “Both?” The voice behind the black surgical mask didn’t sound overly confident but even when peeking up at the man he was still only looking forward. “I stopped counting how many tats I got a while ago. As for my piercings uh..” cutting myself off to count in my head. “I’d say about 9, not counting my ears.” Feeling a cold gaze turn towards me I stiffen slightly. 

“You only have 6 on your face.” (I chose to give reader a vertical labret, septum, both sides of the nose(like so you could use a chain), bridge, eyebrow :D) His voice replies, stifling my laugh “yeah I know I just don’t normally let people see my chest or just randomly show my stomach.” Giggling, I look up to see his ears turning a slight pink. “R-right sorry.” Trying not to laugh at a client, we continued to talk for a bit more before I suggested to put a movie on more to make it less uncomfortable for me with the awkward conversation. After picking a movie, he seemed to relax just a tad more, getting myself comfortable. I continued to finish up the art piece I was adding to someone's skin.

—another time skip because Ghost would get something edgy and big and I can’t keep writing silly awkwardness—

By the time you had finished and made sure to add some disinfectant and soothing cream to the skin before wrapping it up. You pat his shoulder smiling softly “you’re all done big guy”. Rising from the seat, he walked somehow (even though this man is huge) silently towards the front desk. Scanning his card and giving him the papers that explained how to look after his tattoo. “Thank you. You’re uhm. Very handsome- or uh pretty? I don’t know, can I just get your number?” Stumbling over his words brought a smile to your face. “Sure, I’d uh I’d actually really like it if you took my number” you ramble as you grab some scrap paper, quickly writing your personal number you hand it to him.

Seeing his eyes scrunch slightly, let you know he was smiling at you, and god almighty if the fact that this huge, scary, masked, stoic, man giving you a smile, that you couldn’t even see, wouldn’t make you swoon. Giving you a quick nod he walked out, the small bell above your door ringing in your ears as you watched him leave. 

Giggling to yourself as you stupidly fist pumped the air and twirled around happily, not registering the sound of the bell being rung, indicating the opening of a door. What you did register was the once again gruff voice, clearing their throat as you turned back to look at the man who just left back in your shop. “Forgot ma’ cap.” Swiftly grabbing his hat back with what you could only assume was the smuggest look ever he turned back around. This time leaving you with a curt “Bye now, doll”

Leaving you red faced, in the middle of your own shop. Snapping out of it you groaned loudly before retreating to the floor, hidden by the desk. Cursing yourself for your stupid victory jig you did before even making sure that he wouldn’t come back for a bit. A buzz in your pocket distracted you from your internal dread, pulling out your phone and opening it to see a message from an unknown number. “That lil’ dance was very cute btw”.

A/N: *twerks cutely* ANYWAY