#gunbutter

[kaname-can-burn]

can you imagine trying to give birth and some fucking naked molerat of a man decides to show up and gunbutt your boyfriend. id be so embarrassed id never recover from that one guy with the 2 year duolingo streak and a bootlicking habit trying to mess with my esoteric vibes as i gave birth. crunge.

[gunbutter]

Reel Butter is for all types of metal-to-metal, metal-to-plastic, and plastic-to-plastic mechanisms. Your mechanism has continued performance assured because Reel Butter’s adhesion exceeds the film-strength of molybdenum grease.

[pieceofmindguns]

En route to Shootah. Come find us at the @gunbutterofficial booth 🔫🧈 @utahshooters #pieceofmindguns #gunbutter #utahshooters #shootah #utahguns #801guns #utahisrad (at Utah) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cd0lNA4ruH1/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[serepuff]

Don't forget to always aim for the 🔝TOP!!🔝💪🏽 . . Here's my Kazumi Amano cosplay from Meteocon! Be sure to also check out my youtube (linked in description) to see her Making of video! 💕 . . Thanks Arda Wigs for featuring Native American cosplayers this month! It's so nice to see a company with so much reach uplift such a marginalized part of the cosplay community. I am Taíno ( Kiskeya 🇩🇴 🇩🇴🇩🇴) ⭐️ . The wig is Jeannie by Arda in dark blue! . . Photo by @creamofcosplay 💕!! . . #cosplay #cosplayers #gunbuster #gunbutts #kazumiamano #gunbustercosplay #metrocon #cosplayingwhileblack #taino #nativeamericanheratigecosplay2017 #ardawigs #taino #80sanime #retroanime #classicanime #hideakianno #トップをねらえ #aimforthetop

[e512]

Are you guys into WIPs I might never finish but we just don’t know? 

[ordo-scriptus]

The Captain was alive. He was alive, and the men knew it. No one could point to who had started the rumour, but it was Sergeant Klar - the Militarum Penitente arbitrator - that first shared it with the other non-commisioned officers. Brevet-Captain Alcor had been found, and recovered alive. Fifty men gathered in the night, in the lee of the Hellhound "Okey Dokey". On a rumour, they marched into no-gods-land. As the dawn broke, and as the sun began to crawl into early, then late morning - they marched. Auspex scans echoed with distant signatures. They grew close. Their readings grew stronger, and they grew closer. As the Hellhound's commander called their proximity to the troops, they broke into an unco-ordinated sprint. Then, from behind bombed out walls, and emerging from shattered ruins, giants of armoured green and bone stepped to them, and boltguns began to fire. So many walking wounded, so many shattered souls given the briefest moment of hope - and then there were so many dead. Heavy Weapon Teams, expecting xenos ambush but caught wholly by surprise, hastily set up their guns. The Hellhound spewed flame across bone white soldiers, bearing powered swords and vast slab-shields, festooned with icons of grim, scythe or sword wielding reapers. They simply walked through the flames, and the tank was rent asunder by their blades. Sprinting men found themselves as part of an impromptu charge, leading gunbutt first into armoured behemoths. Most died outright. Some breached though, missed by the thin cordon of Space Marines. And there was their Captain. Beaten, bloodied. Klar cut his bonds. He gave him his sword. And they fought. All of them fought, tooth and nail and boot and bayonet. But they were few, and though they brought low ancient Astartes, they were fewer and fewer. A land speeder powered through the streets, it's rotating turret whirring a dirge. Alcor, and what few Guardsmen remained, lay before it - and in an explosion of plasma fire, they fell. #warhammercommunity #warhammerbattlereport #warhammer #warhammer40k #warhammer40000 #40k #warhammercrusade #cadians #cadianshocktroops #cadiastands #creedlives #hobbystreak #hobbystreakday126 https://www.instagram.com/p/CbRNjrJodQA/?utm_medium=tumblr

[scumfuckus]

i want a monotonous, draining dead-end office job someday JUST so that i get my chance to go postal. the desire to go postal is the american dream. im not american but in britain we don't have a dream. but i can dream. and i want to gunbutt someone who's wearing a tie, and piss on a desk. thats the dream

[blacksunlit]

The darkened splinterecho, brainstream- ward, the portcullis over the meander on which it comes to stand, so much unwindowed there, just look, the truss of lazy fervor, one gunbutt blow from the prayersilos, one and not one.

—Paul Celan, translated from the French by Pierre Joris

[meisteralready]

Dream & Context. 8/25/17

I was rich and had a big house or was staying there. The whole family was vacationing there, swimming, BBQing. We were having a blast. We all seemed to converge around the pool, a party.

Drinks clinching, kids running. Cliche in appearance but felt genuine. Evie was there with all her cousins, beaming happiness. Running by, I caught her, scooped her up and gave her a big fat Daddy kiss. She giggled profusely. She was mine and I hers. We both knew it. We knew from the second she was born.

When she was in utero, I would crawl down the bed, away from her mother Nicole (who was not on this vacation) and I would read books or sing to a gestation Evie. We never wanted to know her gender at that point, we didn’t need to know. Whatever was unimportant. We just met everything with love.

When Eve was born, she didn’t make a sound. She was full of fluid, meconium, the water in the womb. Usually babies have some in them, sometimes up to ten cc. She had thirty.

After about 1-2 minutes (which felt forever, suspended time to me), her lungs were cleared and she screamed her first now-familiar sound of crying. Her pitch, her duration, the beginnings of her voice were right there. I remember it vividly, inherently. The tone, the duration. It’s still there today when she cries, I hear it constantly in her voice. It comforts me. Let’s me know it’s her. Truly Eve.

Anyway, I scoop her up and lay on a flurry of kisses. She laughs and I say, “I love you to the moon and back!”

She responds with, “I love you more than there’s fish in the ocean!”

I answer with, “I love you more than all the sand in the desert!”

And this always goes on and on until one of us runs out of ideas or gives up or just both. It’s usually me. I give way to her. She almost always wins, but about my love for her? I could go on for days.

I almost always end up saying, in retreat, “Well, I don’t know. I just love you.”

And she always responds with, “I love you, Dad. Forever.”

The skies open up and it immediately starts to rain hard. We happily make our way into the house. Funny because these are already-wet people trying to avoid raindrops.

We get inside and the good vibes continue. My family is open with my friends, everything relaxed, satisfied. We got to the basement, my whole immediate family, to change out of wet suits. We leave the rest of the party, food, drinks and fun on the various upstairs levels. This is a large house.

When downstairs, something starts to change. The feel of what’s happening, the tone of the present time. The light outside gets a bit darker, more gray. We hear something; someone enter upstairs, there is a scuffle.

I was in my back bedroom and something started happening outside, like a bunch of people arrived and were looking for someone. I could feel them closing in.

I rushed out of the bedroom into the family room downstairs where the majority of the family was. Chuck, Armond, lisa and laura, all the kids, including Eve and some others I didn’t know - it looked tropical around us, maybe it was Hawaii - and a person, in trunks, came downstairs and somehow got Chuck’s gun.

Chuck, stunned, gave his gun to him, like this wasn’t expected. The person in trunks, who I thought was just a family friend, was actually like a family bodyguard. He was cavorting with us earlier, swimming. But he was actually our protector. And because of the trunks, he didn’t have his own gun. He needed Chuck’s and, though stunned, Chuck knew this. Chuck always had a gun on him and I never saw him use it.

This concerning sitauation wasn’t about me. It was about Chuck, my brother-in-law. He led a bad deal or something with someone and that person was coming to collect.

The bodyguard, still in trunks, checked the flock to see if it was loaded, motioned for us to stay here, and tactically made his way up the steps.

Upstairs, the other guests, family, maybe Cara and Matt (and Kayla, I didn’t see her), but not Dad and probably not Sheila - I didn’t feeeeel them there, rumbled. Suddenly, a lot of shooting started. Breaking things, screams, moans, drippings of water and blood.

We were quiet downstairs, but terrified. Chuck didn’t have his gun. He was dumbfounded. A new guy, felt like a cousin, or a family friend, had two smaller shotguns shrink wrapped, like you got them at Costco or something, and kept trying to break them open-tearing at them and finally slamming them, gunbutt first against the wall, trying to feebly break the plastic open.

It never worked, all it did was break holes in the drywall. Twice. Finally, he just ran up, plastic be damned, no bullets in any of the coupled guns. We heard (& saw from my peripheral) that he was promptly gunned down on the stairs. His blood splattering all over the white staircase. The entire house was white and quickly turning Red.

This drew the murders attention downstairs. They could still be heard taunting and killing up there, but they were making their way down. People were trying to find improvised weapon. I think Chuck may have found a backup gun. Armond, Laura, and I believe Lisa, even though I didn’t see her there, I felt she was, started to meet the invaders.

The kids, petrified and now crying, still in their wet suits from swimming, needed to he rescued. I took it on myself. We ran to the back. I could still hear gunshots and the thumps of people taking slugs - I believe one was Chuck - and falling to the ground.

I had to save these kids. My nieces and nephews were in there, as well as previous Eve. We ran to a back white hallway off the main living room in the basement. It was shot up, but a long slender window was broken out, not sharp.

I looked out, it was a heavy downfall, tropical, like monsoon season falling straightdown. In the thick foliage, I saw a muddy path that followed up a ridge. It was our only way out.

The kids were hysterical, not sure if they were going to die, not sure if their parents already were. I yelled at them to go out the window and head up the path. Eric, seemed the most levelheaded, started. I pushed the rest out. Katrina and Lexi, a very scared but silent Eve -who I kissed as I helped her through the busted out window, some small neighborhood boys and girls, including one chubby little Hawaiian kid, crying profusely and in some Hawaiian shorts.

Once the latest kid was out, I could hear the killers enter the downstairs. They kicked and continued to shoot the dead bodies -this was a personal, violent attack. They rifled through things- it was a home invasion, robbery, but also felt very personal and direct. They abhorred these people they were hurting.

As one, in black, tall and slender, entered the hallway, I ducked out through the window. I don’t feel he saw me.

I quickly caught up with the kids. They were slipping and sliding all over the rain soaked, muddy hill, but they were holding on to each other. Some grasped the others shirt bottoms or they held hands. They were together; small, but they were a team.

We stumbled into a construction site. No one was there, it was raining. There was a slight ridge that led up to the main road, though we couldn’t see it. I knew civilization, other people who could help, were there.

The ridge was very small and narrow and on the side towards the construction, ran a medium height, black chainlink fence. The kids could fit in the space. I could not.

The killers were coming. I looked back and saw three to five, all dressed in black, all Caucasian, make their way towards us. They looked like Bond villians, black tight shirts and sweaters, tight black pants, some with black leather gloves, some not.

Their hair was slicked back from the rain and they were having a tough time on the mud and incline because of their expensive black dress shoes. They did not think they would encounter such strife. It gave the kids time to escape.

The kids, still holding hands were slipping and sliding on the course, but still advancing up the hill, the little Hawaiian boy, was pinned on the fence, half of his leg, slipped under, caught between the bottom of the chainlink and devolving mud underneath. The other kids passed him by, frantically. I tried to help him, I couldn’t reach. He was crying. He was alone. He would die.

I moved up the line. I was on the leveled plain of where they would build. My incline did not rise with the children. They made their way up, sometimes in small groups, sometimes one by one, up the ridge and disappeared into the woods, towards the safety of the open road. The number of kids seemed to Increase during this muddy mad dash to freedom. They seemed to keep coming in a steady stream, kids I didn’t even know, until it finally stopped.

I saw Erich, the youngest in our family, my littlest nephew, sitting at the top of the ridge, where the fence ended, right where the path through the woods to civilization began.

He was confused, sitting cross legged on the ground, huffing and crying, not knowing what was happening or where his family was. He was probably twenty feet above me, just sitting there. I yelled for him to keep moving, but he couldn’t hear me over the heavy rainfall. He just sat there.

I looked back, the killers were advancing, getting closer -about 50 yards away. They noticed me and spotted Erich. Two seemed to break off to handle the ridge, but I didn’t think they could get up there and be a threat. Truly, though, I didn’t know, they were younger, slimmer. Maybe they could do it or at least get close enough to shoot him. I just didn’t know.

I turned back to see my daughter helping Erich get up. My Evie, with all the kindness and love that she’s always held in the world, helping her little nephew. The same Evie I saw give away her Easter eggs at age five to kids she saw that didn’t have any, who got there too late for the village egg hunt. The same Evie who gives away her handmade bracelets to kids she meets on the subway. The same one who makes sure she kisses me every night before I sleep. Evie was helping up Erich, whose tiny four year old legs, pushed him up, scrunching to get into the woods, who hugged Eve for helping him.

Erich scurried off into the woods. Eve turned to me, put her hands in the fence and sobbed. It was a heartbroken sob, the kind that comes when you know you are losing something and that it’s happening right now. Right there in front of you.

We both knew we’d never see each other again. I started shout to run, get far away, that I loved her, that she should save herself. She couldn’t hear any of it. She just held her self up by that fence, wilting and crying purse lipped, taking Erich’s place in non-mobility.

Yet she wasn’t confused. Eve knew exactly what was about to happen.

As did. Our eyes were locked. A father in with his daughter, the person most special to him, the most valuable thing in this world. Though I never broke from my gaze, I knew the killers were getting near.

I motioned for her to stand, which she did and I pointed to the woods, her escape.

She turned briefly, then back to me. I knew she couldn’t hear so I mouth the words, “I love you” to her.

She winced and mouthed back, “I love you, too,” adding, “Forever.”

I smiled. Motioned for her to retreat into the thick woods. She smiled, held up a single hand for goodbye and scurried into the deep woods, never looking back.

When she was a good distance, I turn back to the construction site. The killers were directly in my face.

Then I woke up.

[nakeddeparture]

MMG Gang, Barbados

BARBADOS (Naked Departure) -- Good evening Naked Departure, two weeks ago the chief of MMG was robbed at gunpoint.  Naked, he says he knows the maskman: Julian aka Lion Nowell.

Chief, why aren't you telling the police you went and sell two men weed and get cash money on the spot and the girl you used to carry at the Indian shop and rent a room with is who get you gunbutt?  If Julian's family feel he's innocent, they are wrong!  His hands are dirty!  If only Brian Chuckey Cumberbatch did keep home and keep his old ass quiet and stop picking up for Julian, that Patel boy would have never shoot him.  But God ain't sleeping.

Let the people know your drug deal backfired on you.  Stop pointing fingers at the wrong people Chief!  Anonymous

Naked Departure @ http://nakeddeparture.online

[pieceofmindguns]

Come see us today at Shootah. Will have our display at the @gunbutterofficial tent 🤘🏼 @utahshooters #pieceofmindguns #gunbutter #utahshooters #utahguns #801guns #utahisrad (at Utah) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cd0hZgHLsVn/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[pieceofmindguns]

#sundaygunday w the local boys from @deadairsilencers Can’t go wrong w any of the nomad brothers but hot damn the nomad ti is 🔥 Come visit us and check out the lineup May 21st at Shootah @utahshooters where we are sharing a booth w @gunbutterofficial 🤘🏼 #pieceofmindguns #pieceguns #piece #deadair #deadairsilencers #gunbutter #utahshooters #nomadti #deadairnomad #556x45 #300blackout #silencers #utahbusiness #supportlocal #utahguns #801guns #silencershop #silencershopdealer #utahisrad (at Salt Lake City, Utah) https://www.instagram.com/p/CdlmnaJrWa0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[gunbutter]

The best known secret in the shooting world 🤫

[gunbutter]

Gun Butter’s unsurpassed smoothness and consistency is unparalleled due to its longevity and ease of function. Your mechanism has continued performance assured because Gun Butter’s adhesion exceeds the film-strength of molybdenum grease.

[gunbutter]

Our personal experience has shown that Gun Butter not only allows our guns to function better and longer with confidence. Now jams and or malfunctions can no longer be attributed to lubrication problems.

[gunbutter]

Gun Butter is for all types of metal-to-metal, metal-to-plastic & plastic-to-plastic mechanisms. Our lubrication reduces galling and wear, provides 2-year rust protection that extends the life of your favorite recreational mechanical device.