#Gunsmithing at Home

[redgearguru]

Can You Repair Gun Barrels At Home

As a passionate firearm enthusiast, I often wonder: Can I fix gun barrels at home? With more states supporting Constitutional Carry, keeping firearms in good shape is key. This article will look into DIY survival techniques for gun repair. It’s important to be responsible and safe while maintaining our guns. We’ll cover how to spot common problems like rust and pitting. I aim to give gun owners…

[jrueships]

If Alpey and Jaba got ice cream together, which flavours do you think they’d choose? 🤔🍨🍨

From the way Jabari acts, some people would mistake him to be a pretty boring guy when it comes to tastes in food. He's a creature of comfort who, if uncomfortable, will battle and yell with all the ferocity of a territorial lemming to regain it. However, some people tend to oversee that comfort and luxury can come hand in hand. Jabari is not the man who will play it safe, he will squint at the ice cream's menu and carefully select one of the most obscure options ever after conducting some serious research either beforehand or during the process. This research includes asking the employees what they think of the dessert. Even if there's a line of hungry kids and their late to work parents waiting behind him, Jabari will hush the ground so he can calculate All the options to come to a stable conclusion that Yes, this Is, in fact, The Best choice of item to spend my money on. He probably likes combinations, like an upside down banana split or something odd like that. If he's buying ice cream at a place that's stabilized itself by making good ice cream, it can't just be any ice cream he can just buy at a store then. It has to be THEIR SPECIAL ice cream. He's here for luxury and specifics, whatever the ice cream store says they can do the best, like, actually do in terms of making it, sprucing it up with syrups and fruits, and decorating it all nice and different, mixing it, etc, he'll buy it. I feel like he'd be one of those people that buys those really fancy overloaded ice cream shakes where there's like syrup or crumbs decorating the outside of the cup like sugar on an alcoholic beverage and there's a brownie bar on top for extra extra appearance appeal.

Meanwhile, alpey just wants some Dondurma, which is a Turkish ice cream notable for its hard texture and melt resistance, so he brings his own special knife and fork sets, one for him, one for jaba so they can cut into their ice cream bricks :] !! He's fond of the sweeter flavors, but they can't be artifical. ... sadly, there is no delicious Dondurma, and the ice cream just melts and slips between the slits of his special fork with much despair and pity. His ice cream lacks the sweetness and realness he desires, and they have no honey !!!! It's not stretchy or chewy at all! the texture is almost nothing !!!

It's okay, though, because Jabari orders him something special off the menu, an ornate mixture of various fruits and syrups and decorative pizzazz that they both end up using their forks to eat it. The creature of luxury cannot stand to see his fellow critter in need lack his own creaturely comforts. Before Jabari orders Alpey a new unique ice cream, he coaxes (demands) alpey to try a spoo-forkful of the carefully considered dessert of Jabari's choosing. Once he can tell Alpey likes Jabari's ice cream more than the simple and safe one he chose, Jabari buys Alpey something similar but with more sweetness. Cue another hour long research session that makes the poor teenagers groan as they watch their line grow longer and longer behind the happy couple(?) clinging onto their weird little forks instead of spoons.

[faolonfiendrender]

Okay, I’m gonna write something.

Miss Le Miestre kicked the church door shut as she jumped to the inside. Two shots followed her in.

“Those connards are back. Barely got away, but this ol girl can still weave like she used to. Please tell me the rest of ya have more than that rifle Madame Reyes carries between ya.”

Miss Reyes spoke up first “Got a Colt in my boot. Same one the knife is strapped to. Draw it to surprise fools who think I’m going for a knife.”

Mr. Darby was the next, he said nothing, simply produced a derringer seemingly out of thin air, and then a stiletto in his other hand.

Mister Mori was the last to say anything.

“I apologize, but I have not had a chance to purchase a gun yet. If I could borrow one from one of you, I’d be quite grateful. I am better with rifles, but I understand if Miss Reyes doesn’t want to give me her rifle”

Miss Reyes handed Mister Mori her rifle before retrieving the revolver from her boot. She then stared directly at Miss Le Miestre and asked one question.

“You got a gun?”

In response, Miss Le Miestre removed her blue longcoat, revealing that beyond her cutlass, she had kept two flintlocks, one with an ivory handle, the other with jet, as well as an imported European revolver.

“I have a handful of guns, I’ll still never get used to those new-fangled revolvers, even if being able to shoot five times before clubbing someone with it is nice.”

Then she drew the revolver in her left hand, grabbing her cutlass with the right as Mister Mori crouched behind a pew and Mr. Darby and Miss Reyes stepped to the side of the door.

Miss Le Miestre stepped towards the door, deciding that she’d insult them in English so they could understand, and shouted to the men outside, all of whom were dressed in old grey uniforms and wore improvised masks.

“I’m coming out ya damned bastards! I’ll make all you regret not giving up when you could, I’ve been making scared little devils like you die since your grandfathers were cabin boys!”

She kicked open the doors, firing her revolver from the hip to make all eight of the men outside take cover. She then ducked back into the church, drew her jet-handled gun, and made ready.

The first of the men stood up from behind a barrel, Mister Mori put a bullet in his head before he’d fully processed what happened. Seconds which felt like hours passed. One of the survivors stuck his repeating rifle above a wagon and started firing, as soon as Mister Mori ducked to avoid the gunfire the four of the men ran down to flank the door while the three left in the street stood with rifles trained to keep their enemies from shooting out the doorway

Only one of the men going to flank made it, Miss Reyes shot two of them from inside the church window hitting both in the gut. And one made the mistake of trying to pull her through the window. She stabbed him with the knife on her belt as he grabbed her gunarm.

That left one man, one overconfident man. He knew he had to shoot Miss Reyes first, and then that rifleman. He knew there was no way the one who had attacked them had reloaded yet, and the limey one didn’t have a weapon.

So he tried just that, before a puff of smoke and the smell of black powder filled the air, and he fell to a weapon nearly a century older than he was.

During all this, Mr. Darby had slipped away out one of the other windows. He slipped back as he jumped from an awning behind the gunmen. He managed to shoot one of the men on the way down before stabbing another in the gut as he stood. The third man had his gun pointed at Mr. Darby in time to make him pause. Another click made the last man standing pause.

“Hey, we got business here, and I see that officer sabre on your belt. Think you can take an old woman in a swordfight? Get done with all this guns business?”

So, the last man standing out down the gun and drew. He figured that he’s more likely to survive this fight than the previous one.

At the same time, the man who fell in the church began crawling along. He knew to fake injury when shot. He’d take care of the rifleman first, a knife to the gut should work and then he’d shoot the vacquero.

Outside, metal clashed, the old pirate falling back into her familiar rhythm, high, low, step together and raise the sword at an angle. Try to cut his shoulder as he swung and missed. Skill was on her side, but her opponent was clearly never trained, he kept holding his saber in two hands, and yanking away when he felt a cut bounce off his guard. This made him an unpredictable brute, and somehow, he was gaining ground.

Inside, things had not gone as planned for the man with the knife. He had kicked the rifle away, and the tapestries that hung meant the gunslinger couldn’t get a good shot, but the rifleman was good up close. He seemed to flow around the knife, even as low as both were. A kick found Mister Mori’s hip, and he fell across a familiar sheath. He rolled backwards as the knife tried to reach his gut. He took the sheath with him. He stood up and faced the man with the knife, both out of reach from the other, hand on the hilt of his sword as his foe stepped forwards

Outside, Miss Le Miestre found herself losing ground, so she stepped back, holding her sword out with one hand to stop her opponent’s advance for but a second. Her opponent swatted the cutlass to the side, but he should have paid attention to the other hand instead.

A loud bang echoed. A blade glimmered silently. Both of the gunmen still standing clutched their guts. One felt immense pain, the other felt nothing even as his blood fell on the church floor. Both fell, one backwards and one forwards. A pirate put her ivory-handled pistol back in her belt, and a samurai put his bronze-hilted sword back in its sheath.

Consider:

Victorian England: 1837-1901

American Old West: 1803-1912

Meiji Restoration: 1868-1912

French privateering in the Gulf of Mexico: ended circa 1830

Conclusion: an adventuring party consisting of a Victorian gentleman thief, an Old West gunslinger, a disgraced former samurai, and an elderly French pirate is actually 100% historically plausible.

[theroguebanshee]

Strike Industries VOA Handguard Review: Why You Should Consider it

Looking to enhance your shotgun with a durable and customizable handguard? In this video, I review the Strike Industries VOA handguard, a tough all-metal upgrade perfect for tactical and home defense setups. Built from 6061 aluminum, this handguard is lightweight, highly corrosion-resistant, and manages heat efficiently. I’ll walk you through its features, benefits, and some key installation…

[rdr2gifs]

Each time Arthur has helped someone without expecting payment (that I can remember) because I’ve seen some weird takes circling around about how Arthur only cares about money/doesn’t help people (yet again)

He helped a city photographer take pictures and acted as his protector because he liked him

He helped a doctor retrieve a stolen wagon full of medicine, he wasn’t even asked to do so, he did it out of his own good will

He wanted to make an old cranky man happy and proposed finding his lost trinkets for him

He helped Deborah MacGuiness find dinosaur bones out of curiosity. He didn’t receive any financial reward for it. Just a few trinkets and he was satisfied

He risked his life for Marko Dragic’s experiments (his main motivation in this mission was again, curiosity)

He rescued a boy being held hostage by the gunsmith in Rhodes

He rescued people from being trafficked and gave them a large sum of money (he could’ve kept it for himself) for a better life

He helped Mr. White and Mr. Black gain freedom and even helped them again after they got themselves into trouble

He rescued Charles Chatenay on at least 3 different occasions

He instantly hurried to retrieve Sister Calderon’s cross even though he has never met her before

In his first encounter with Marjorie and Bertram, he helps to calm Bertram down and is understanding even though Bertram gave him trouble. He even puts the bartender in his place after he speaks about Bertram in a degrading manner

He agreed to help a man get rid of nigh folk occupying his property and after he payed him with only a rat pelt, Arthur didn’t get angry and still asked him if he’d be really fine on his own after knowing he wouldn’t be able to pay

He let a homeless man hug him and listened to what he has to say

He helped to save Jamie from becoming a cult member and stopped him from taking his life

He helped a boy look for his lost dog

He saved an injured man’s life after driving him to a doctor

He helped a woman get rid of a body after she claimed she had to kill the man in self-defence

He donated to the poor and even to build a shelter for war-veterans

He taught Charlotte how to survive on her own

He tried to save a crazed village out of his own good will

He helped a war veteran retrieve his prosthetic leg and helped him hunt

He helped a man look for his lost friend in the snowy mountains

He helped Rain’s Fall retrieve sacred items important to his people

He helped to retrieve stolen medical supplies for the Wapiti tripe

He saved Captain Monroe’s life after hearing he was in danger

He helped Beau and Penelope escape from their terrible families

He has saved many hunters from getting mauled, given many ladies a ride home, saved people from dying of poisoning, helped gather herbs, helped a lost New Yorker find his way to the town, helped save many people’s lives (lady being held hostage in her own house in Lemoyne, folk getting tortured by The Murfees or Lemoyne Raiders etc.)

Let’s not forget the fact that Arthur is a provider for over 20 people. He cannot be running around and risking his life for free for everyone he meets. He needs money. Even so, he has helped all the people above for no reward and out of his own free will. When I see someone say that Arthur is only motivated by money and never helps people otherwise, I just instantly assume they stormed through the story and didn’t pay any attention. The encounters listed above make up the majority of chance encounters/side quests and in almost all of them he is helping people. 80% of these are also pre-diagnosis.

He has a hard time accepting any compliments or gratitude for his good deeds and always downplays himself. Even in the main story he is never thinking about himself and he always puts others first.

“You did not ask for anything, you only gave”

The encounters where he does require payment pale in comparison to those in which he doesn’t, and even so they are very justified as they are often dangerous, time consuming or straight up ridiculous. It’s weird to assume Arthur only helps people for money when he doesn’t want to deliver love letters, interview dangerous people and sneak into heavily guarded properties for free.

[erijt]

Great Lakes Cultures and affiliate Groups

Snow Selkies

Primarily inhabiting the northern shores of the Great Lakes, many years of contact with the first Gnomish Settlers have created a unique relationship which has provided a Cultural exchange of Beliefs and Goods. The various Snow Tribes which call the region home have united under a singular banner which partially include their Gnomish allies and more recently the River Tribes.

Lake Gnomes

Settlers of the Great Lakes Southern Shores, over the years the mountains have separated them from their Coastal counterparts. Extended exposure to regional cultures has further distanced them from their Druidic Roots. Knowledge of sophisticated metallurgy and the recent arrival gunsmithing knowledge has placed them in a unique position within the region.

River Selkies

Tribes of the Great River, recent conflicts have pushed their range to the Eastern Lake Lands and parts of the Laurentian Shield. Having once been the inhabitants of the Great River, long standing feuds with Woodland Tribes have pushed them northwards away from the Southern Forest lands. Wild Rice farming is a staple of many families in this region.

Ash Goblins

Beyond the Northeastern Grasslands sit the Ashen Forests, a region of land under the shadow of a smoldering Caldera. Isolated from the affairs of the far East, the Ash Goblin's only contact with the Great Lakes Region is through trade with the Woodland and River Tribes. Unique access to various artifacts and machines brings into question where such items are sourced from.

Woodland Goblins

The most numerous of the ethnic Cultures made up of various semi-related people which share a language family that loosely unifies the Tribes. In recent history, their expansion to the northern woodlands have placed them in direct conflict with a confederacy of Lake Tribes.

Mountain Goblins

The least established of the Tribes, limited to the Southwestern mountain Range which extends to the southern Continent. Their close relationships with the bordering Woodland groups provides them allies which are able to create a buffer between them and Northern Savagery.

[bethanydelleman]

Charles, in his real concern and good nature, would go home with her; there was no preventing him. This was almost cruel. But she could not be long ungrateful; he was sacrificing an engagement at a gunsmith’s, to be of use to her; and she set off with him, with no feeling but gratitude apparent.

Charles Musgrove is the most Typical Dude but in a positive way because he's also got a good heart. Do you understand how much he REALLY wanted to see that gun and he was willing to give up his only chance to walk his sister-in-law home because she seemed ill?

Now he does pass her off to Wentworth when he has a chance, but he would have walked her all the way if he hadn't run into anyone and he would have really lost his chance to see that gun.

“Are you going as high as Belmont? Are you going near Camden Place? Because, if you are, I shall have no scruple in asking you to take my place, and give Anne your arm to her father’s door. She is rather done for this morning, and must not go so far without help, and I ought to be at that fellow’s in the Market Place. He promised me the sight of a capital gun he is just going to send off; said he would keep it unpacked to the last possible moment, that I might see it; and if I do not turn back now, I have no chance. By his description, a good deal like the second size double-barrel of mine, which you shot with one day round Winthrop.”

Charles Musgrove: a hero.

[yourfuckingmomdotcom]

Yandere Butler x Autistic Reader

The autistic girlies, guys, or otherwise deserve yandere content tailored to ourselves, and I’m sick of pretending otherwise /hj.

The general idea is that this takes place in a time before an autism diagnosis even existed, like the Victorian Era, but arguably the DSM III added autism in 1980, so you could be in any of those times and still technically be timewise correct. But also you can just imagine him as a modern dude who doesn’t get what’s up.

Oh also, this is inspired a lot by @kiame-sama​ ​. Do I know what a Chrollo is? Nope. Did I love the fic she made? Fuck yea. (Accidentally tagged someone else at first, sorry you didn’t see this!) CW: Non-consentual cuddling, mild drugging, yandere, autistic reader, sensory overload mentions, general violence and murder stuff

🂡 Yandere Butler was brought on by your uncle after your parents unfortunate passing. You had been passed the helm of owning their small but thriving gunsmith operations, as well as the family house and assets. Being unwed and rather young, the butler was sent to manage the things that seriously stressed you out. He, as well as your other associates, assume you are just someone of a delicate constitution, and therefore he’s always fretting over you. Initially he didn’t get it, he did his very emotionally separated duties, but he noticed how much you struggled with specific things, and how you absolutely lit up at the things you love. He found it charming and enthralling, and he could no longer separate his duties and himself. 🂡 Yandere Butler will listen to you ramble for hours over your special interest. Now, how much he understands depends entirely on the content, but he will sit there regardless. As you excitedly go over every detail as best as you can trying to get him to understand what makes you so enthusiastic, he’ll ask leading questions and generally try and find ways to engage deeper in the things you enjoy. It’s the least he could do, since it seems to make you so happy.

🂡 Yandere Butler will overstep professional boundaries as long as you’re unaware of them. He appreciates what he sees as feign innocence and gullibleness that allows him to do things that wouldn’t be possible otherwise. With the low oversight of his position in the house, as well as the authority he holds, he uses this to sneak touches under the guise of fixing something with your garments or your posture. He’ll take what feels like decades to get you dresses in the morning as he slowly glides stockings or woolen socks over your legs, placing the garter so gently atop your thigh. The small ways you allow him to touch you are to him the highlight of his day, especially if you’re really touch adverse.

🂡 Though, Yandere Butler, does understand that your comfort comes first. He finds it somewhat enjoyable to find a middle ground between sensory-safe clothing, as well as clothes deemed acceptable by wider society. He makes sure that your tailor uses the specific fiber and weave to make sure you have an exceptionally predictable texture to fall back on with any garment. He also will find ways to get you the right silhouette while avoiding a lot of structure if that bothers you. If all else fails, he might resort to more homey garments.

🂡 Yandere Butler pays close attention to your nutrition as well, always making sure to get sensory safe foods as well as some you’ve never tried before to widen your horizons just a bit. If the maids and chefs cook something wrong, or in a way you find unpalatable, there will absolutely be hell to pay. Well, moreso just a very loud scolding after you’ve retired to bed for the night, but it still hurts their feelings... He keeps his more unpleasant reprimands for when you’ve fallen asleep because he understands that you feel bad for the workers in your home when he gets like this, so he just does it out of sight. If ever invited to a required formal event, god forbid, he’ll always bring a snack and a handkerchief in case you really didn’t like what was available.

🂡 Yandere Butler also manages your medications, vitamins, and any other substances you take throughout the day. Don’t even consider doing something elicit or uncouth such as smoking or drinking more than a flute of champagne, and if you do something more elicit you’ll probably give him a heart attack. But this unadulterated access to these things lets him do things that are very ungenteel. He requires you take a sleep aid, practically knocks you out, and he takes this time to cuddle you while in your sleep. He knows you’re usually not one for unprompted blunt  affection, so he only does so when you’re sleeping. He finds your resting face adorable, and he prefers to hold you in the honeymoon hug position.

🂡 Yandere Butler, who due to your “delicate constitution” is usually helping you through sensory overloads. If you would grant him the honor, he’ll hold you tenderly in his arms as you ease back into comfort, slowly rocking both of you back and forth. Or, if you’re not ok with touching, he’ll prepare your chambers with dim lights, comforting sounds, and your bed all made and smelling of fragrances you find soothing. Despite not knowing the actual root of this behavior, he’s surprisingly accommodating and has gotten your sensory needs down to a science… which is sort of the problem.

🂡 The Yandere Butler figured out that going outside into town caused you mild to a great distress. So he made your life more simple, no more going out frivolously!... You were confused, and when you asked for more information he basically put a ban on any outside activity that wasn’t business or a disaster within the house. You got really sad about that, as you needed to go out and get things frequently for your hobbies. He ignored your short pleas to go out, initially only responding with something along the lines of, “Then go out to the gardens.”, but he knew he couldn’t keep you inside forever.

🂡 So, Yandere Butler scheduled every “unnecessary” outdoor event to be a sensory nightmare. He hates to see you so distressed, but it’s the only way you’ll learn apparently. This is only made worse by the fact he’s essentially made a sensory heaven inside of your manor, so when you go out it’s a lot worse since you’re so used to being catered to that the sensory discomfort becomes full of sensory pain. And you and him both know you can’t make a scene, lest you be ousted from high society and made a mockery of, so you’re hastily rushed back home to be coddled by him once again. It’s a very negative cycle you’ve got yourself caught up in, and it’s extremely difficult to get out of that cycle. Eventually, he hopes you’ll send a maid out to collect whatever you need instead of trying to leave him again, but until that time comes he’ll do this as much as you need until you get the memo.

🂡 Yandere Butler also manages many of your social and business connections. He’ll whisper in your ear how to deal with boring things like business decisions, stocks, and all the choices he doesn’t want you fretting about. But, he also will make sure to restrict any suitors or and non-business social events. He’ll throw out letters for frivolous parties, as he doesn’t want you tainted by others. He also will throw out suitor letters, which can make some interactions at formal business dinners a bit awkward for you when many suitors come up to you to ask about if anything got through, but the butler will whisk you away and explain that the mail must just be slow. 🂡 But one day, while a maid was cleaning the butler's room in the servants quarters, a maid finds the letters thrown out in his personal rubbish bin. She reads through them all rather confused, wondering why these wouldn’t be given directly to the master of the house. She wasn’t one to interfere with others' business, but something ticked her off. But as she’s about to walk off with an engagement letter, the butler walks in with 3 more in hand. There was a panic and a struggle from both of them, as the butler made sure she’d never be able to tell her tale.

🂡 That night, the Yandere Butler burnt the butchered maid, as well as all of the letters he’d previously thrown out to ash in the manors incinerator. He’d make sure not to make such a mistake again…

🂡 The next day, Yandere Butler makes you a special breakfast and brings it to your room. He coos, explaining that a particular maid stole from the wine cellar, and as she dropped and cracked the bottle, the red wine spilt across the floor. After that he let her go from her position, and he needed time to clean the mess himself, apologizing that your schedule was messed with and that you’re confined to the room for the day to protect your garments. Everytime you walk past the servant quarters door, you see a small red stain and remember the taste of red wine.

[greetingfromthedead]

Vash's Moving Castle (Vash x Reader)

Plot: A strange building made up of old spaceship parts, moving around on two legs across the wasteland of the desert, it hisses and creaks and fills the heart of many with fear... That castle is home to the magnificent tech wizard Vash, infamous for both his gunmanship and for being a womanizer—or so the rumor goes in your city. You're the eldest child of a gunsmith and as such don't expect much from your future. However, your simple life takes a turn for the exciting when you're ensnared in a disturbing situation, and the mysterious tech wizard appears to rescue you.

Pairing: Vash x mostly GN Reader, occasional she/her pronouns, the use of "girl" etc from quotes directly from the movie. I tried making it completely GN, but my flu ridden brain short circuited on some very specific parts so I gave up.

Raiting: Everyone

Tags: Howl's Moving Castle style AU, no use of "y/n", Vash is a tech wizard, I have both brainrot and the flu, idk what else to put here, Howl is cute, Vash is cute, I tried my best.

Word count: 3.7k

Author's Note: Got the idea yesterday, yall seemed interested and the flu ridden brainrot I had to endure all day today was simply debilitating so I wrote a little something. I hope you like it, not sure if I will continue or not even though I have quite a few HC-s for this little AU situation.

The 6th city, May, is decorated more than usual. After all, May Day has arrived. Even though it is still early in the afternoon, the streets are bustling with people. The aroma of baked goods reaches your nose through your open window, and it makes you think about your sister, Meryl, who is working at the very popular doughnut shop on the other side of the city. She must be very busy today with the rush of customers coming in for their celebratory pastries. For you, it's a free day. Today, your little weapon's repair shop, which you inherited from your father, is closed. You decide to take advantage of the downtime and visit your sister, whom you haven't seen in a long time.

You put aside the little handgun you have been tinkering with and stand to close the window. Your little shop is situated quite high, and the workshop has the perfect view to look out over the roofs of all the other houses. Your eyes glance over the familiar sight—the scrappy buildingd made out of old spaceship parts and in the distance, you see the wide open desert. But today it is slightly different. You heard the commotion this morning when the people first noticed the addition to the landscape. With fearful and hushed voices, they talked about the monstrocity looming on the horizon and the kind of calamity it might bring.

"It is Vash's Moving Castle!" The people on the streets whispered and pointed. "Do you think the horrible Typhoon has come to lay waste to our city?"

You knew very well the rumors about the gunslinger and tech wizard named Vash the Stampede. He is said to be a ruthless demon specializing in murder and wide-scale destruction. Apparently, he kills without mercy—men, women, and children alike. He has wiped whole towns from the face of the planet, and his infamous castle is created with the sole purpose of being a weapon of mass destruction.

As you pull the window closed, you look at the mass of metal outside of town. Calling it a castle is a gross overstatement. You can't imagine how such a heap of scrap gets to be called anything so magnificent. It consists of layers upon layers of old spaceship parts, jutting out at odd angles and covered in rust and wires, its massive turrets and spires reaching towards the sky. It has two large legs underneath it, much like a tomas, that the building uses to move across the desert. This is not the first time Vash's fortress has passed by May City, and you think the excitement is unwarranted. Sure, the gunslinger has a reputation, but nothing catastrophic has happened so far. You can't help but wonder why everyone gets so worked up every time the castle passes by; he would surely go to the bank or somewhere else where he can get easy money. You are just a small shop owner; as long as you don't get in his way, it seems unlikely he would take any interest in you. He might be a womanizer, but he only has eyes for pretty girls.

You get quickly ready and close the shop. The streets are decorated with colorful ribbons, and you hear cheers coming from all over town as the annual parade begins. You have chosen a truly awful moment to try and make your way across the city, but you are determined to see Meryl. As you push through the crowded streets, you catch glimpses of the parade. People are showing off their inventions and talents. You see giant hydraulic pants marching down the street. Exo-suits and new kinds of weaponry. On other streets, you see entertainers dancing and singing in colorful costumes. Some are juggling fire, and others are performing daring acrobatics. This world truly is a marvel.

You make it to the gondolas and squeeze into one with some other people. It takes you over the winding roads, and you see the flags and market stalls lining the streets. The smell of freshly cooked food wafts up to you as you take in the sights and sounds of the bustling marketplace. May is filled with all kinds of people; for days, the sandsteamers have brought in travelers from all over, and it shows. The whole city is alive with excitement and energy.

You get off your ride on the slightly calmer side of the town, and you know the familiar route you need to take to get to the doughnut shop. The quiet side streets are nearly empty; just a few people mingle on the sidewalks. You try to avoid them as much as possible and turn to an even smaller ally as a group of drunkards head your way. You hold your breath and hope they don't notice you, looking nervously over your shoulder as you hurry along.

"Hey, it looks like a little mouse lost its way," you suddenly hear, and as you look back ahead, you see you nearly ran into a man who has just come around the corner. He is grinning mischievously, blocking your path. He is a lot taller than you, and you can see his rifle slung across his back. Surely he is a bounty hunter; you see them a lot, and with all the people flowing into town, you would think they have their hands full.

"Oh, no. I'm not lost," you say, shaking your head and recoiling a bit, leaning away from the man.

"This little mouse looks thirsty. We should take her for a cup of tea." The man continues like he didn't hear you at all. You try sidestepping him, but as you do, a second man appears from behind him. He is just as large with a big mustache, and he looks at you curiously as he leans closer, blocking your way further.

"No thanks. My sister's expecting me." You avoid looking directly at them, instead trying to think of a way to escape. They make you very uncomfortable.

"She's pretty cute for a mouse." You try to keep your cool and find a way to politely excuse yourself from the situation, but the mustashed man is leaning even closer, his face level with yours.

"How old are you anyway? You live around here?" The first guy leans toward you too. Neither of them sounds menacing, but they fill you with dread.

"Leave me alone!" you say with as much bravery as you can muster, taking a step backwards.

"You see? Your mustache scares all the girls," the first man nudges his comrade.

"So? I think she's even cuter when she's scared." the other replies, not taking his eyes off you.

"There you are, sweetheart." A different, smooth male voice speaks up behind you, capturing the gaze of the bountyhunters before you. "Sorry, I'm late. I was looking everywhere for you."

He speaks close to your left ear, and a hand gently rests on your right shoulder. It's not a voice you recognize, and his touch makes you stiffen up. Your body had been ready to run for your life, but now you find yourself sandwitched between two unknowns. Yet something about the man behind you is comforting, or maybe it's just that you see the upset glint in the eyes of the men before you.

"Hey! Hey! We're busy here!" The man you had run into first speaks and looks like he is puffing himself up to look more menacing. His companion, too, straightens his back, ready for a violent confrontation.

"Are you really? It looked to me like the two of you were just leaving." The calm voice beside you speaks with a hint of amusement. You feel him shift slightly, but you don't turn your eyes away from the bounty hunters in front of you. You see their gazes move over the man, their eyes widening at something where his left arm would be, and you see them freeze up and then nudge each other. They look very uncomfortable.

"This is not worth it," one of them whispers nervously to the other.

"Yeah, we better get going," the other answers with a whisper, and they start to shuffle away from you, back into the alley they had come from. As they get further away, their step hastens until they take off running. You watch them disappear into the darkness, wondering what caused them to have such a reaction.

"Don't hold it against them," the soft voice next to you says, and you finally turn to look at him. He is a tall young man with a soft smile on his lips. You see his pretty blue eyes behind orange tinted round glasses, and his blonde hair is about shoulder length. A tight golden hoop hangs from his left ear. He is truly very handsome, and his expression is warm and inviting. He wears a pillowy white blouse that flows down to his slender waist. A pendant hangs from his neck, and a red coat covers his shoulders, but his arms are not in the sleeves.

"They aren't actually all that bad," he says, continuing his thought from before, and his eyes capture your gaze again. "Where to? I'll be your escort this evening."

"Oh, I'm, um, just going to the doughnut shop." You pull back a little from his closeness, but feel his hand firmly on your shoulder.

"Don't get alarmed, but I'm being followed," he says, leaning closer to you. His hand moves from your shoulder and instead hooks around your arm. "Act normal."

You avert your eyes, but he ignores your awkwardness completely and starts walking along the street with your arm intertwined with his, like it's totally normal. Your body is still stiff, a slight fear lingering in the back of your mind, yet this is exciliating in a way you never expected. You find yourself surprisingly comfortable in his presence, despite the fact that he is a total stranger. His pace is somewhat brisk, but you can easily keep up. The unknown of who could be following him is a bit frightening, and you find yourself pressing into his upper arm for reassurance.

As you walk past some dark and narrow alleys, you start to suddenly hear commotion.

"There he is! Go! Hurry!" You hear shouting, and it sends a shiver up your spine. Yet the man beside you keeps the same pace and, for the moment, seems unbothered.

"Sorry. It looks like you're involved," he says calmly as you try to glance into the alleys where the commotion stems from. You see a mob of gunslingers squeeze themselves hurriedly into the narrow gap between the buildings and start to rush towards you. It is frightening to you, and you grab a tighter hold of the man's arm. Your right hand grasps his shirt, your heart pounds in fear as your body stiffens. More voices start to echo from up ahead, and a few people stumble onto your street.

"This way!" he whispers insistently, and the man pulls you into a side alley, his pace getting faster as he leads you away from the gathering crowd. You struggle to keep up with him so you have to start running, your mind racing with questions, but you hold onto him tightly, and you feel certain that everything will be alright. He keeps going faster and faster, and you can see the main street ahead, but suddenly your view gets blocked by more armed men appearing to block our path. You feel a surge of panic rising in your chest, and the reassuring hand sliters out from your weakened cluth as you have trouble holding on while you run.

"Come on!" The mystery man's voice is soft and insistent, with a hint of amusement as you feel his arm wrap around your waist, both of you running straight towards the angry looking mob. You see that some of them have drawn their guns and have them pointed straight at you, but the thundering footsteps behind you tell you that they are unlikely to shoot here in this narrow alley to avoid hitting anybody else. Your confidence in getting out of here wavers, but suddenly you are tightly pulled against the man's side, and his other hand takes yours. It feels cold and hard; you catch a glimpse of blue, but you are too distracted by the fact that your feet are no longer on the cobbled street. You rush through the air, seemingly kept up by the mysterious blonde.

Instinctively, you curl up, looking around for an explanation. The coat that covered his shoulders before hangs over his left arm, and from his back protrubes a pair of giant feathery wings. You've never seen anything like this. Is this a new invention? Has he come here to present his masterpiece to the masses during the parade? Who is this man? He has to be a brilliant inventor. Your mind is captivated by him; you want to understand his mysterious contraption, and your gaze moves along him, down his left arm, and you see it's not a real arm at all; it is made out of strange blue metal, the hand holding yours is made out of the same material. The forearm is mostly covered by his coat, but you're sure that everything from at least his elbow down is a prosthesis; the rest is hidden by the flowy sleeve. You feel his fingers move so organically that you're sure this must be lost technology. What a strange man! You've never seen anything like this.

"Now, straighten your legs and hold on tight," you hear the man say gently, and you follow his command. You relax your legs and grab tightly onto him. His strong arm around you presses you into his side, and you wrap your legs with one of his to make sure you cannot slip away from his grasp and plummet to your death.

You are still mesmerized by his wings, how large they are as they stretch out behind him, allowing him to fly effortlessly through the air. You feel a rush of adrenaline as you soar higher. The streets beneath you look so small; people are just specs moving around. You let out a gasp of amazement, and it makes the strange man chuckle. He flies you both over some rooftops, and you see the familiar doughnut shop come into view.

"You're a natural." You hear him praise you, but to you, it makes little sense; all you do is hold onto him for dear life. But you can't deny the exhilarating rush of flying through the sky. You have never felt so free. The wind whips through your hair as you soar above the city. You feel like you could touch the clouds. You relax a little bit in his grasp, hearing his feathers rustle in the wind as they allow you to glide through the air. To your surprise, very few people pay any attention to you. Most of them are too focused on the parade passing by. The ones who did notice you stared in awe, not believing their eyes or perhaps mistaking you for a worm.

You get closer and closer to the familiar shop, and you realize he is aiming for the second floor balcony. He lands gracefully on the bannister and gently guides you onto the floor, like you weigh nothing at all. His hand holds onto yours for a little longer as he bows closer.

"I'll make sure to draw them off, but wait a bit before you head back outside." His voice is low and gentle, with a soft smile dancing on his lips and in the glimmer of his eyes.

"Okay," you say, still stunned by what had just happened. Your fingers gently grip his as he straightens up and pulls his hand from you. His wings fold down behind his back and disappear before he takes his coat and drapes it over his shoulders.

"That's my girl," he says with a low and husky voice, a hint of pride in it. He smiles brightly and takes a step back, making you gasp as he falls into nothingness. You rush to peek over the railing, only to find that he has disappeared into the crowd with no hint of anyone noticing him at all, so he must be alright. You breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that he is safe.

You linger on the balcony for a little while longer. It all seems too incredible to be true—almost magical. Never would you have thought something like this could happen to you; you are so used to your dull life of being the eldest, but then again, that's what it means to be a responsible and reliable older sibling. Or perhaps you have caught some nasty disease and are just imagining all this during a fever dream. Either way, you enjoyed this. The realization prods you in the side as you remember that you didn't even ask the gentleman's name. Perhaps you will get lucky and see him introducing his invention at a parade in the future. Or perhaps this encounter will just remain a peculiar memory in the back of your mind.

You turn to enter the hallway and see a wide-eyed young woman staring back at you. She is frozen, like she has seen a ghost, and she looks at you with a hint of mistrust.

"Hello," you say, trying to strike up a conversation. "I'm here to see Meryl; she's my little sister. I'm sorry to have just barged in to the staff's quarters. Could you tell her I'm here? I'm in no rush; I'll wait till she has time."

She still stares at you and seems too frozen to say anything, only giving you a stiff nod and heading downstairs, where you hear a lot of commotion. You turn back to look out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man again, but he's nowhere to be seen. The sweet smell of doughnuts and jam fills your nose as you patiently wait for your sister.

You fall deep into thought, only to be awoken by some loud running footsteps heading your way and Meryl's voice calling out your name. She rushes to you and grabs your hands, so you turn to face her.

"Meryl!" you say with slight apprehension as you see the surprise in her face.

"What's going on? Someone just told me you flew down into our balcony!" She says it with disbelief. It takes you a moment to process her words before responding.

"So that did happen. That wasn't a dream," you say with a mix of confusion and sadness. You hear a different voice speak to Meryl as you turn your gaze out the window again, not registering what they talk about. You relive everything that has happened to you within the last half hour in your head, trying to commit every detail to memory. Meryl looks at you with concern as you look away so apathetically and then drags you with her to the backrooms of the kitchen to sit down with you on some boxes in the storage room. She presses you until you open up and tell her everything about your track here and the strange man who saved you.

"Wow! He must have been an inventor then!" Meryl exclaims as you finish your story with how he disappeared into the crowd.

"But he was so kind to me. He rescued me, Meryl."

"Of course he did! He was trying to seduce you! You are so lucky! If that inventor was Vash, he would have done much worse right then and there! He is an awful womanizer!"

"No, he wouldn't. Vash only does that to beautiful girls."

"Ah, don't give me that! You need to be more careful! It's dangerous out there! Even the infamous Millions Knives is back on the prowl." She looks at the side of your face and leans closer. "Are you listening?"

But you are so consumed by your thoughts, you barely realize what she is saying. Your gaze had been fixed by a giant tub of custard.

"Huh?" You finally turn to face your sister again.

"Argh!" Meryl lets out a disgruntled sigh. You see it from her face that she's about to start lecturing you, but a young man informing her about a new batch of dougnuts being done saves you from it.

"Okay! I'll be right there!" She turns a touch more cheerfully toward the cook.

"Alright! I better get going then. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay." You stand up, ready to leave, to both avoid getting Meryl into trouble and getting an earful from her about the horrible danger that is lurking outside the city walls.

Meryl sees through you immediately but chooses not to lecture you this time on that topic. She leads you to the backdoor, where a man is carrying bags of flour.

"Now," Meryl comes close to you again. "Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in that gunshop?"

"The shop was just so important to father, and I'm the eldest! I don't mind." You try to keep your tone cheerful as you look into her concerned face. But deep down, you know her words stir something up.

"I'm not asking what father would have wanted. I want to know what you want," she continues insistently.

"Well," you start to answer, not sure about what to say, but the man who carried in the flour comes back to say goodbye to Meryl, and your sister turns to him to wave goodbye. You take the opportunity to start to walk away and say, "I better get going."

"It's your life! Do something for yourself for once, will you?" she says, hoping that you will finally prioritize your own happiness.

"Bye, Meryl!" you say over your shoulder with a slight smile as you head home. Your head is still filled with a million thoughts, and Meryl only added to them. Yet you are glad she seems happy with her new life after she left your family's gunshop. You can't help but wonder if you'll ever find the same peace and contentment. But it matters little; you're the eldest, and you have a duty.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

[lunarrolls]

personally i think ashton needs to do more confidently insane impulsive shit. jumping into a volcano. ruining the world’s first gunsmith’s table and bullying him in his own home. being fully ready to eat a rock so hot it burns to the touch. shutting himself in a fucking stone coffin to throw rocks at the goddess of death’s window until she looks at them. nobody is doing it like them

[flowerwiththemachinegun]

FF7-1

Minors Do Not Interact. Just a masterlist to keep organized between what's drabbles/hc's.

TsengxReader:

SoftYandereTsengxReader

Cat Dad Tseng

Tseng x Gunsmith!Reader

Nsfw Getback is crazy

Nsfw-ish Tseng snoring hc

Nsfw Tseng eating pussy hc

Nsfw Tseng might be toxic hc

Tseng x Reader x Genesis:

"Team work" drabble nsfw

Tseng, Sephiroth, Zack:

Nsfw foot fetish hcs? Gn

AGSZC+Rufus/Tseng/Reno:

Free roam access to your home? HC’s

Angeal x Sephiroth x Reader:

Nsfw/noncon

Sephiroth x Reader:

Reader that loves to cook

SoftYandereHeadcanons

SoftYandere Drabble (it’s just forever)

Nsfw headcanons (series of cheek clapping)

Soft Yandere Drabble (your scent is different)

AGSZC+Hojo:

Reader that’s prone to migraines hcs(sorry no cloud here)

play fighting hcs

sitting on their laps hcs

HojoxReader:

The Collector Nsfw Gn

second favorite experiment nsfw

[i4mask]

MY KÖNIG HEADCANONS, #BACKSTORY EDITION. Written by @i4mask, aka Daniel.

DISCLAIMER: In no way am I claiming any of this is canon, it’s entirely fictional and borne of my own imagination. If you don’t agree/like what you read, please simply just scroll. I also wrote this at like, one AM, forgive me of any errors.

WARNINGS: Mentions/brief descriptions ONLY! of child abuse & violence against children, domestic abuse, alcoholism, murder and trauma.

• KÖNIG was born at home by his Mother with the help of a Midwife and Doula, as well as his Father. He grew up on a large plot of land at the bottom of the Austrian Alps, owned by his Father, who was a well-known Gunsmith to the village a few miles down South.

• KÖNIG was homeschooled by both of his parents in different fashions. He did not have much technological entertainment, instead using nature and the outdoors as means of stimulation. He was often exposed to the elements, but knew how to handle himself amongst them. He grew up learning to hunt, scavenge, identify, plant, etc.

• He did not have many friends aside from his siblings as well as KRUEGER, who I headcanon to have lived in the same area as him for a short period of time. KÖNIG’S lack of social practice is also what contributed to his anxiety and aloofness later on in his life.

• He is the eldest son, having two brothers and two sisters. Emmerich, Rafael, Gisela and Anna. (ORDERED OLDEST TO YOUNGEST.)

• KÖNIG was initially taught to shoot a gun by his Father, who started him on an old revolver at the age of seven. Unfortunately, he struggled in shooting due to his inability to sit/stand still, often missing his marks. He was also quite clumsy, motor skills lacking finesse, leading to his Father believing he was a lost cause when it came to the art, even as he grew older, he struggled with the same problems.

• When KÖNIG proved that he was no good with fire arms, his Father turned to his brothers Emmerich and Rafael, but did not teach his daughters, believing they had no business near such things.

• KÖNIG had a complex relationship with animals, especially small ones. From a young age, it was difficult for him to control the wide range of his own strength. His siblings often disliked allowing him near rodents such as rabbits, mice, or rats, as he often had a habit of injuring or even killing them, even if he didn’t mean to.

• His Father became an alcoholic within his early childhood, his first victim of cruelty being KÖNIG’S Mother, and then KÖNIG himself, who grew up with a lack of confidence, low self-esteem, distrust towards others, anger-hostility, and a sense of general worthlessness because of the continued verbal, physical and emotional abuse.

• KÖNIG began to hate his face since an early age, mostly due to the fact that his Father would often use a knife to cut him, in an effort of intimidating him and preventing him from intervening in the abuse of his Mother (of which he loved dearly.)

• Despite this, KÖNIG grew an emotional attachment/crutch to the very weapons his Father threatened his family with. He had become very familiar with knives since a young age, viewing them as his “neutral guardians”. Knives offered a sense of protection that he had never received as a child, since he used them in many other helpful situations. However, the fact that they were also used against him brought him conflict. He soon came to the conclusion that the only thing which mattered was the person holding the blade.

• On a similar note, he had grown infatuated with fire arms, not dissimilar to his own Father. Despite his own failures with them, he had gone on to silently teach his sisters how to use them.

• KÖNIG tended to idolize his own growth since an early age. He believed that the day he was finally taller than his Father was the day he would be able to “free himself” and his family from the shackles of his father’s violence. He constantly, discreetly measured himself against the other, in both height AND stature, as well as strength.

• Rather than being a male figure to look up to, KÖNIG’S Father was a figure to look down upon. He often used his Father as an example of what NOT to become, which helped him to better manage his own temperament.

• As the abuse escalated, KÖNIG’S mental health took a downward spiral. He often confided with his only friend at the time, SEBASTIAN KRUEGER, who at one point said, “It would be a shame if your father fell down that ravine near your house, wouldn’t it?”

• SEBASTIAN, who had a penchant for violence of his own since a young age, had subtly encouraged KÖNIG over the expanse of many weeks to find a particular solution to his problem, one which, KÖNIG, after turning seventeen, took upon himself—and then later had KRUEGER aid him in covering up the true nature of his Father’s untimely, unfortunate end.

• With his Father as the family’s only means of income, as his Mother did not work nor was she mentally capable enough to do so after the years of abuse she had experienced, KÖNIG knew that his family’s well-being was left up to him. This, in turn, is what prompted him to join the military, and act as fast as possible to begin a steady income.

• After saving enough up, he moved his family away from Austria and into Germany, where his siblings could attend an official public school and his mother could get the help she needed. He sent his family money quite frequently until his siblings managed to grow their own lives and leave the nest.

• In his free time/leave, KÖNIG visits his Mother, who had decided she wanted to move back into their Austrian home. He only agreed as long one of his siblings stayed with her, to which his younger sister, Gisela, had.

To anyone who made it to the end, I applaud you, and thank you for reading. You may read “SCHADENFRUEDE”, a series on Ao3 in which I write snippets of memories from KÖNIG’S childhood according to this post on here:

[acheronist]

........so what do u think peglar's childhood was like? 👀👂

WELLLLLLLLLL......

so his dad was a gunsmith in westminster & henry was the younger sibling of two (elizabeth was a few years older than him, and she also received henry's arrears from the franklin expedition after everyone was pronounced lost & dead. she was married at this time and was henry's immediate next of kin. so presumably their parents had died by this point...) but he and elizabeth got dunked in a 2-for-1 baptism like john torrington & his sister did tho which is so funny. pov you have one baby and underestimated how much work babies actually are, so you forget to get it baptized on time, and then by the second baby rolls around you've got a better grip on parenting, so you take both kids in on the same day. lmfao.

anyways back to the childhood tho. they lived like... a few blocks away from the river thames so he'd probably already had a fondness for water, i think, just based on my own childhood of having two older brothers and living near a semi-important river (lol)

but that made me wonder if like... he and elizabeth ever played army...? because i definitely was made by my brothers to play army and soldiers a fair amount. and if my dad was a gunsmith and i was an opinionated little freakboy who wanted to be a navy sailor when i was older, i'd definitely try and sneak into dad's work and play pretend a little bit. and i wonder if sarah peglar (mum) ever scolded him for not including elizabeth or vice versa when they was out playing with the neighborhood kids...

they lived in a pretty well-populated neighborhood and he attended the blewcoat school "for poor families" WHICH ALSO ALLOWED GIRLS TO ATTEND so maybe henry and elizabeth went there together. cmon get up we have to walk to school on timeeeee. i think he was probably a little bit dyslexic tho based on how his spelling was in 1845-47... i think the only formal education for reading and writing would have been at this blewcoat school in westminster , so i wonder if the writing backwards was a trick he pulled out to impress his classmates... don't notice how bad his spelling test grade was!! just look how cool and clever harry is!!! he can write a whole paragraph backwards!!!! whoaaah!!!! idk i just hope he had a gang of friends he was running about and causing silly lad antics with. i hope elizabeth followed them around and was begrudgingly included in the antics because they were supposed to be keeping an eye on each other during the afternoons or something. based on the amount of times he mentions keeping an eye on his friends on terror / mentions tom by name in the wallet papers i think it's not too hard to imagine henry was protective over people he loved.... i assume this extended to his sister, too. also like.. not that this was his childhood necessarily, but his dad's gunsmith shop was literally down the road from the big ben clocktower which would have been under construction (1843) during the same time he was ashore between ships (post hms wanderer & pre hms terror) so i wonder if he ever went home to visit the family and was like FUCCKKK SORRY I'M LATE FOR DINNER TRAFFIC SUCKED. CONSTRUCTION FOR THAT CLOCK IS SO ANNOYING. that would be very funny to me.

ok anyways back to childhood: john peglar (henry & elizabeth's dad) voted for francis burdett so there's at least some indication that their household was like... fine with being politically radical and heavily opinionated. (i would also point out that there's a fair amount in henry's wallet and diary that's just him having a gossip session by himself. opinionated indeed.) but also henry doesn't seem the type to really get into trouble tho... based on his career history he generally rolled his eyes kept his head down and did his job unless he was pushed hard enough, in which case he had no problem speaking out. in 1833 on the marquis camden, henry was lashed two dozen times for "drunkenness and mutinous conduct" but i've also read that the captain of the ship at the time was a Notorious Asshole Who Loved To Use Lashing As Punishment? so jumping to conclusions without real evidence, i think henry probably saw his fellow ABs getting treated badly by the captain, had 3 more beers than he should have, and said FUCK THIS GUYYYY!!!!!!! and then got punished for it. we're not going to think about the lashing scars opening back up again in the arctic btw. so anyways the point of all this is to say i think henry was probably fine with protesting when things suck, which he probably learned from his dad. maybe there were nights when john and sarah were talking politics and henry sat on the other side of the wall listening when he wasn't supposed to. maybe elizabeth would come sit with him and he'd have to shush her because neither of them were supposed to be listening because it was past their bedtimes but they sat and listened together anyways. scurried back into bed trying not to get caught even though john and sarah definitely knew they were there.

but also he was 13 when he entered the marine society ("a charitable organization for helping destitute boys and training seamen") so maybe he saw the navy as a chance to help out his lower-middle class family..... maybe they had a hard time and henry wanted to help out now that he was sort of almost grown up!!! and he clearly excelled thru this sailor training camp because after a month they tossed him onto hms solebay where he would have learned more hands-on stuff about working on a ship. knots and such. maybe this is where he realized how good he was with ropes... he could have been the best lad in his "class" when it came to knots etc. he also would have learned properly how to use a gun here, but again, his dad's a gunsmith. he probably would have had an experience advantage over most of the other boys w/ shooting and loading and managing a gun as a tool. so it's not surprising i think that he was in and out of 'training camp' really quickly. his first real ship was hms clio and he was a spare ship's boy and quickly got transferred to hms magnificent, WHICH WAS A HOSPITAL SHIPPPP and worked in the sickbay as a ship's boy and was earning a real paycheck. in my heart this was probably a very formative experience, and gave him a basic understanding of medicine/nursing? which i bet came in handy during the expedition when things were getting desperate and everyone was sick. i know amc had bridgens playing pinch-hitter nurse for terror camp but i wonder if in real life, maybe henry took up that role? maybe he even managed to keep his own illness under wraps for longer than most of the other expedition men Because he could recall things he learned on hms magnificent... idk.....

anyways at this point we start getting into henry's teen years. does this count as childhood? he saw two men get killed by lightning strike at age ~16 and he jumped around between ships pretty often and his conduct was generally either 1) bored and unremarkable or 2) normal and good :) and then he got lashed for being a petulant "mutinous" teenager who likes beer too much, as previously mentioned, and afterwards he just kind of hangs out until he's 22 and joins the gannett and meets 💞thomas armitage💞 and now i need to stop typing . lest i begin rpf-ing on main a little bit too much.

ok thanks ummm he's my most special guy unfortunately. henry my best friend henry :-(

[theroguebanshee]

Transform Your Mossberg 500 with the NDZ Tactical Safety Kit

In this video, I upgrade the safety on my Mossberg 500 with the NDZ Performance Tactical Safety Kit. The plastic factory safety had to go, and this billet aluminum safety was the perfect replacement. I walk you through the installation process, show how easy it is to manipulate even with gloves, and highlight its durability and color options. Plus, it comes with a lifetime warranty and is made in…

[hongduongn120]

It's about time. Heya mates, decided to redecorate my page with a new main post, now featuring a new and improved reference sheet! Here's a transcript of the character card because holy compression, Batman: Born: November 16th, 1893 Dublin, Ireland

A peaceful life seems to never be a thing for a man like Flynn. A man of calm demeanor and a calculative mind, being born into a house of gunsmiths, he was expected to continue the family's tradition. But war, both in wider Europe and at his home island left him scarred, weary and directionless, and so he chased the American Dream. Wandering the continent as a traveling gunsmith and part-time hitman, drowning the memories of his experience in liquor, he eventually settled in at the city of St. Louis, where he opens shop serving people in need of firearms, legal or not. Through the numerous customers, he learned about the major players of organized crime in the city. He outwardly maintains neutrality, while his inner loyalty shifts and swerves, only staying true to his few friends. He knows doing work with mobsters is a dangerous thing, but his hands are stained long ago, and backing out is not a choice in his mind. Besides, this is America, and there are profits to be made.

When he's not manning the counter, working orders or out on business with his associates, he prefers reading, tinkering, sketching, photography, night strolling and cooking.

[bodhrancomedy]

Would LOVE to hear more about the silly lawyer man 👀 What class is he?

I’m afraid that is classified information. But he completely, utterly, absolutely, 100% cannot do magic whatsoever so please stop asking.

He’s in his sixties (give or take a few years), he’s a short, pot-bellied, little man with messy white hair and a neat beard. He wears round, gold-rimmed reading glasses. He’s probably human.

He has a wife who works as a gunsmith and she is 100% cooler and bigger than him. He proposed to her after she rescued him from a criminal gang and immediately passed out from his wounds.

(She said we’ll see because a) they didn’t know each other THAT well yet and b) it was the sort of question you should ask when you’re of sound mind and not currently bleeding out and delirious from exhaustion and pain. Three years later when he admitted he wanted to move back to the big city, she said, “Of course. I always dreamt of getting married in the big city!” and it took him an hour to realise exactly what that meant)

Like everyone else, he is obliged to do combat training, however his training does not consist of everyone’s else’s goals of “faster, stronger, fitter” but “you swung the sword and you didn’t pop your hip, well done!”

He only arrived at his current home after he was kidnapped and tortured for a week by assailants unknown for reasons unknown. It’s been two weeks and he hasn’t left the building for fear of a repeat attack.

He likes books and organising things and fine clothes and not being near crimes.

Unfortunately, he is only managing 50% of those goals.

They call him Pages when they’re not calling him Grandpa.