#firearms tw

[kill-arts]

my favourite demons with no sinister intentions whatsoever

zorias (3rd) belongs to @animality

[crimsonshadesblog]

People crave the Sieten't event.

Hand it over.

[xdemonicheartx]

Firearms cw

Just wanted to practice drawing my sona's face because I've been wildly inconsistent ...

But I ended up getting carried away with this sketch page and made something I actually like so wahoo art posting

[p-jinx]

Some stickers I made for discord of the stupid pink beast

[lieutenanthowell]

who: @lieutenanthowell & @homegrownkel where: indoor weapons training range, main building when: early February 21, well before the defense seminar what: team... bonding...? or not. at the indoor firing range. general trigger warnings: firearms

All the bells and whistles and shiny new toys, this place had. Guin reassembled the one he'd helped himself to - a Nosler 21, shit, a pleasant surprise - for the second time, eyes elsewhere. Squinting at the unnecessary flatscreen guide to this gussied up firing range. He'd taken his time with it, letting his hands get to know the rifle on their own, unseen, as he watched through the range guide. Bleeding edge. To think, they could've set up a couple cans and called it a fucking day. Spared a few cool mil, most likely. Goddamn ridiculous.

That said, he couldn't not try the night sim.

Pressing the last cartridge into place, ready in the chamber, he let the bolt clack - smooth, quiet, good - and started clicking his way through the screen, going over modes and shit. Those fucking overhead lights dropped. Were replaced by a silvery-blue, faint glow, overhead. He dimmed that a little further. Just a sliver of moonlight. Or close as he'd get, in here. One last sip of coffee, another drag on his smoke - both first of the day, he'd got up early, ready to miss the no-doubt crowded defense seminar as he settled into the armory his own damn way - he balanced his cigarette between the lip and handle of his mug and stepped to the firing line. Alright; rifle shouldered, boot on the ready sensor.

The live alarm rang out, and - the goddamn door opened, with a hiss. Guin stepped back, clapping the Nosler to his shoulder, finger off the trigger. "Seminar's in the gym 'til later," he sighed, taking that cigarette back up, the cherry stoking red in the low, low light. He'd already had to tell a few over-keen new hires who'd mucked the schedule up. Site personnel, so far; this, unfortunately, was one of his. Theirs. Smooth Operator's. Whatever the hell. Somebody from that gone-stale meeting. "Back the way you came. Second door on your left. Sounds like a playground." Kato and his security set seemed alright, but... God, he didn't need to sit in on a pack of padded-up researchers and raw-assed newbies getting taught how to carefully fight for their lives.

[mnstcrsiiistcrs]

"Oh...so a toddler can have a toy gun but when I turn 10...she throws out Miss Fuzzybottom?" Miss Fuzzybottom was the name of Marsh's childhood rabbit, much like Marsha's Mr. Cottontail.

[vuulpecula]

"Mm, you are the sniper from the southern continent," Fox observed, a hand on her hip. Rifle slug across her back. "I have heard that you think you are the best, yes? This is true?" She grinned, words heavy with the accent of her mother tongue. "I would find interest to see you shoot in the cold."

@necklace-of-teeth ❤'d for a starter.

[the-crow-cryptids-domain]

Recently been playing a lot of Minecraft again with @sapphism-and-nihilism on this vanilla server (With Plugins and Datapacks and other Fun Additions!) to distract myself from The Horrors, and it's been LOADS of fun! Have a screenshot dump!

Public server too, the IP is: FidusAchates.mc.gg

[wrenthetitmouse]

It’s so hard to have conversations on the internet or even in person these days that require nuance. It’s like most people expect everything to be completely black and white and for everything to be neatly categorised into ‘bad’ or ‘good’, and if you think something different to them then you must automatically be bad or wrong. People seem to jump to their idea of what they think I’m saying before I’ve even finished speaking.

So many important discussions require nuance, and someone disagreeing with you does not always mean they are morally reprehensible! Take guns for example - guns are not inherently evil or bad, they can be useful or even vital tools for some. This does not mean that it’s okay for everyone and anyone to have access to any kind of gun. That’s not safe or sensible, automatic or semi-automatic rifles are NOT necessary for hunting or pest control, and (where I live) there are very strict laws around what kinds of gun you can have and how you can store them. That’s what I’m advocating for when I say that gun control is vitally important - but so many people hear that and think ‘gun control’ means ‘ban all guns ever!’ Which it obviously does not! What I’m saying is that me having access to cool flashy guns that make loud noises and can shoot very fast is WAYYYY lower down on the tier list of important things than keeping my community safe from gun violence (look up the port Arthur shooting if you need some context for why Tassie is stricter on guns than a lot of places). I’m not saying that everyone must have their guns seized for this to happen, but so many people seem to jump to that conclusion and fill in the blanks to get something from what I’m saying that never actually came out of my mouth. There are a lot of different ways that people think we should be doing this but having that conversation feels impossible because nuance just doesn’t seem to be do-able anymore for many people. I don’t know if this is because of the internet or just a people thing but it’s concerning.

There are some ideas that are deeply wrong and never ok, but there are a lot of areas where more nuance desperately needs to be tolerated and we need to hear each other out more without jumping to the attack. Practice discerning tolerance - tolerate differences in opinion that don’t cause harm, but don’t lie down and tolerate fascist ideology that actively harms people. And, for the love of god, can we please stop jumping to conclusions with what people are saying!

[guns-and-brimstone]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘.

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒: Green, Camouflage, Yellow, Black, White, Brown.

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: Beer, Sweat, Bourbon, Tobacco, Gunpowder. 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍: Leather jackets, Patched up vests, torn Jeans, Militaristic caps and helmets, Bullet belts, Steal toed boots, Gas masks, Bullet proof vests, Weapon holsters.

𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒: Firearms, Cigars, Old Lighter, Bottles and Cans of alcohol, Combat knife, Old photo of comrades, Flask of booze. Duffle bag. Gas mask.

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄: Angry frowns, Toothy grins, vacant stares, Mildly intoxicated stumbling, Nervous twitching, Confused eye darting.

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒: Empty cans, Old war memorabilia, Empty bottles, Half finished cigars, Cigarettes, As trays, Flags, Messy and disorderly, Old photos, Weaponry, Old vinyl records, Dirty bed rolls, Ammunition, Ragged blacket, Empty crates and carbord boxes, News papers, Dirt and dust.

[zedvancement]

[ID: two sketches of Team GIGS. Image 1: Grian sternly lectures Scar: "Do NOT shoot your gun or Bigfoot will find & eat us. Repeat that back to me." Scar blissfully responds: "I will use my camera to take pictures of Bigfoot's feet."

Image 2: Impulse and Scar are looking up at the sky. Impulse waves his hands in the air, shouting: "It's a plane! Help us!". Scar is aiming a pistol at the plane (not pictured), holding one eye shut and sticking his tongue out in impish concentration. End ID]

gigs bigfoot stream (what is going on)

[hwathwugu]

Gale Dekarios

Gunsmith and sharpshooter. Wanted by the patent office for Breaking and Entering, Intellectual Property Theft, and more.

[mnstcrsiiistcrs]

Marsha is given a FREEDOM ARMS MODEL 83, 475 LINEBAUGH with PLENTY of rounds!

"Why are you giving me this! I don't want this!" Marsha didn't like guns.

unprompted asks | open & always accepting

[critterishere]

he’s like me..

[vuulpecula]

It was hard not to curl into his touch, the warmth they shared between them that had her eyes shutting tightly against the florescent lights. How long had it been since such a sensation was had? Was she so desperate now for that human touch that she didn't even think of the selfishness of not wanting to let go. She told herself it was because he needed her. With each small movement he made, he was letting go, but it was her who wasn't ready this time.

Holding him tighter, Fox rubbed circles into his back. Whispering all the while that it was okay, he didn't have to be so strong all the time. She could feel the earthquakes of his ribcage with each breath he drew, she could practically sense all that he was holding in. Like a torrent pressing against a dam set to crumble. "You're safe here," she promised against his shoulder. "You can let it go. I won't tell anyone. I won''t judge you. Just let it out." She could feel herself getting emotional at her own words, so she swallowed, adjusting her hands to place one against the back of his head.

Someone could walk in at any moment, but it didn't matter. That was, in truth, the farthest thing from her mind. What mattered was Rick and making sure that he was alright. She usually wasn't one to condone killing of any type, but their backs had been against the wall and a man like that--well, if it wasn't him, there would have been so many more casualties. Had he woken up that morning knowing that he was going to try to take lives? Surely, Rick had not woken up thinking he would need to take one. She wished she could take that burden from him now. Wished it was her trigger that had been pulled, not his. But it wasn't. She could not carry that pain for him, but she could carry him.

@rickgrimesdoingrickthings

Rick could feel the tension in her. She was feeling bad for him, he was aware. He couldn't help but feel pathetic- but her words helped. Helped so much. That insecurity he always felt after making a heavy decision, that confirmation he needed...Fox gave him. She telling him the chief's words...that got him so relieved- the fact she cared, it meant so much. He didn't feel alone. Her eyes were wet as well, fixated on him- eventually, he looked back, back at her, his stare frozen too, just living the present pain- his chest was aching, his stomach too, and his forehead, behind his eyes. His hands held the coffee, its warmth giving him comfort. "Sorry for..." For touching her arm. He muttered it. His voice was weak. He would need a nice meal and a nice night of sleep to recover, that was for sure. Emotionally though, the wounds were wide open. He realized he had to control his emotions more, don't let impulse take over him. He would. He would try to change. So she also thought shooting like that was necessary.... Rick smiled a little bit, relieved. His shoulders and rib cages were so tensed the man looked smaller. Slowly he took his hand to his chest, taking a deep breath, enjoying the moment of relief- a moment where he wasn't feeling agony. "Thanks." He said, his voice nearly without energy, but so delicate and grateful. Then she said it. She told him to get up. At first, he was confused, but soon he read the situation and understood. She was offering a hug. He didn't even hesitate. Rick stood and gave Fox a little tackle hug, his arms wrapping around her as if she was the only support he had to hold amidst a crumbling world, his forehead pressed against her shoulder, he was curling. For those seconds, he just appreciated the comfort, and nothing more. No self judgement, no guilt, just her warmth, her scent, her empathy. He was squeezing her a bit, his eyes wetting her shoulder. Rick closed his eyes and just stayed like that, his heart beating stronger against her chest, his own was shaking a bit every time he breathed, trying to hold the sobs. Rick was so grateful. He stood still- he wanted to sleep there, sleep for ages,- as long as that sensation remained, it could last forever. Eventually, he decided to move, resting his chin over her shoulder for some time, then his cheek against her temple, hugging her with just one arm now. He didn't want to let go- each move to break the hug he divided in steps, and each one would last for a while. Rick tried to control the sobs while his face was still hidden, so he looked normal once she would look at him again once they stepped away from each other. He was just waiting for another movement from her, a sign, and then he would let go.

@vuulpecula

[gwaindrifter]

<You/We wield the Gun/You>

Finally got around to 3d printing the Service Weapon from Control.