#Field Gun

[theworldatwar]

A British 18 pound field gun gets ready for action from its camouflaged position - Ypres, Oct 1914

[carbone14]

Canon de campagne de 140 mm Mark III de la section A de la 12e Batterie du 7th Medium Regiment (Royal Canadian Artillery) ouvre le feu sur des positions allemandes dans le secteur de Bretteville-le-Rabet – Bataille de Caen – Opération Totalize – Bataille de Normandie – 16 août 1944

[michael-massa-micon]

Three Inch Field Gun - August 2023 This 1902 Army field gun was once used as part of the defenses for the fort at Fairbanks. It was never actually fired in battle, but was part of the strength of the fort. It now sits in Pioneer Park in Fairbanks. With its restored paint and wheels, it makes a very nice image. MWM

[wowa-bublord]

one thing in the mouthwashing fandom that annoys me is when people make those jokes like "Swansea would have killed Jimmy if Anya told him" because like,,,,,, she did and he didn't. but also. i don't think the moral the game is trying to show is that Anya should have picked another man to protect her

[vanmarkus]

BRILLIANT MINDS • S1E05 • “The Haunted Marine”

[spankmespence]

boyfriend!bradley, boyfriend!bradley, boyfriend!bradley 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[pnfc]

they do such a nice job with perry's emoting in these, he gets to express so much

[dickgreyson]

obsessed w this. why did they bother coming

[floralcavern]

“Being infantilized by the fandom for being shy and sensitive despite the fact that I am willing to commit murder if I’m pushed far enough” duo.

[tragedry]

Logan Fields, on 'I am made brave by LOVE'

Mark Twain / Red, School Bus Graveyard / Brette Warshaw, What’s the Difference Between Courage and Bravery? / Definition of 'Courage' / Marina Tsvetaeva, Poem of the End / tornadocountrymp3 on tumblr / Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird / Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life / kafk-a on tumblr

part vi/vii

[blusical]

The 2024 Paris Olympics: Images of the Moment

(sorry for the weirdness, tumblr only allows 30 images so i had to combine them)

[c-m-in-h]

wind in wings, two angels falling

[ratbastarddotfuck]

I've never been truly able to get on board with "if you go far enough left, you get your guns back" because I genuinely just don't think we should be mass producing weapons that can facilitate mass murder at the scale we do. like, sure, I'm not against the principle of "marginalised people and activists should have the same access to weaponry that others do, especially for protection in a state of fascism" but I just. we only have these things as a result of the military industry, finding the most efficient ways to kill. these things should never have been made. we shouldn't be producing assault rifles for mass consumption, we shouldn't be producing them at all.

so like. sure. if you go far enough left you get your guns back, I guess. but I think that's a short-sighted and disingenuous way to phrase it, when I would assume that the more "radical" leftist stance is something more akin to global demilitarisation and the cessation of mass-production of weapons (alongside a lot of other garbage made for mass consumption under capitalism - we need to de-industrialise production on a major global scale).

(I don't necessarily mean getting rid of guns "completely" because people will always find ways to engineer them, but I think there is a massive difference between a gun designed for responsible hunting or sport vs a gun designed to kill people as fast as possible, or to be wielded as a threat the way cops do.)

idk. obviously this is a very future-focused perspective and I guess the "far enough left etc." crowd are usually talking more in the present. I just have concerns that this particular piece of rhetoric encourages some leftists to be less critical of the weaponry industry than perhaps we should be.

[whump-in-the-closet]

“Come on, come on. Breathe. In and out. You can manage that.”

Field Whump Time >:)

Hero collapsed in the moss. The smell of grass rose up to meet him, new and green.

His leg throbbed. He didn't have to look to know that the soft ground was soaked with blood.

His team caught up with him, their voices filling the air with anxious whispers. To him, it sounded like they were shouting.

"Hero?"

"Are you alright?"

"Hey! C'mon mate, get up!"

Hero, with a desperate sound, put his hands beneath him. He pushed himself up on all fours and then, digging a hand into a tree trunk, stood.

The faces of his team blurred together. He blinked and they cleared. He shook his head, putting a hand out to wave them aside. "I'm...I'm okay." Breathing should not hurt as much as it did, but other than that...he was fine. He refused to look at his leg.

"Are you sure?" asked Leader.

Hero took his hand off the tree to prove exactly how fine he was doing. Putting weight on his injured leg sent a spike of pain up his entire body, fresh and horrific. "Yeah," he gasped.

Medic looked at Hero for a long moment, their expression unreadable.

Hero broke eye contact first and took a step forward, to further prove himself. "We need to keep going--AH--" Hero crumpled to one knee, his leg betraying him. His face went white.

Medic turned to Leader and shook their head. As quickly as that, his sentence was passed.

Hero struggled to stand, but Medic put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Lie down. We have to remove the bullet." They spoke like they were simply announcing the result of a calculation.

Hero looked from Leader to Medic, searching their faces for any way of escape, and found none. He turned to his teammates. Nothing. "No, you don't have to do this." His voice shook. "No, please."

Medic crouched down next to Hero, unraveling their pack. Hero caught a glimpse of shining metal and shuddered. Medic caught him looking. "We have to work quickly." They did not say don't worry, it won't hurt.

The air contracted around Hero as Leader gently pushed him to the ground. It seemed to shimmer, as unreal as this whole situation. He dug his nails into the soft moss when he heard metal clinking against metal.

"Please," Hero tried again. "Please--"

"Give him something to bite down on," said Medic. "You two, grab his arms, don't let him thrash around."

Hero tried to jerk upright at this but his teammates already had him pinned. One whispered an apology as they pressed him into the ground, the other said nothing and would not look at him.

Leader squeezed his hand sympathetically, then held up a piece of leather, waiting to see if he would take it.

Hero blinked.

He was back.

Villain standing above him, just out of his line of sight--

No, no, no, n--no

"Keep begging like the dog you are."

The flash of steel-- the sudden brightness of it inside him-- digging under his skin, biting deep. Deeper and twisting--

Hero was shaking, suddenly aware of Leader and the moss and Medic cutting away his pant leg to reveal not one, but two, bullets embedded above his knee.

He nodded. "Give it to me." He bit down on the leather and hoped it would muffle his screams.

Villain's favorite pastime had involved a knife and Hero under his blade.

Medic pressed cool steel against the wound and Hero tried to scramble away, back arching.

Through the roaring in his ears, he heard Leader telling him to breathe.

He dug his hands into the moss, green and white behind his eyes. The smell of iron grew stronger. He couldn't--

"Come on, come on. Breathe. In and out. You can manage that.”

Hero exhaled a shuddering breath.

Medic dug deeper.

He screamed into the gag.

"In and out!" snapped Leader. "Breathe in and out."

Hero was shaking. He inhaled shallowly, more out of instinct than obedience.

Then came Medic's clear voice, "Got the first one."

Leader patted Hero's shoulder in sympathy.

Hero exhaled. His breathing came at a quicker and quicker pace, hands buried in the dirt, as Medic dug out the second bullet.

The color green danced behind his eyes, dull and pounding. He tried to drown himself in it. It didn't help. The taste of leather in his mouth felt wrong-- like vinegar or something sour-- warning bells going off too late.

He didn't hear Medic's relief when they said, "We're done." He only felt the tight pressure of the bandages being wrapped. His teammates let him up and when he spat the leather gag out, he noticed, vaguely, the dirt under his nails was bloodstained.

He worked his jaw in a circle, trying to erase the taste of wrongness. "Fuck you guys," he muttered.

[i-can-not-art]

AIM FOR THE HEAD

Alt versions:

[bearforceone3]

overworked boss max lord