guns

ISIS ISIS baby! Word to your mother.
The
The

The

Guns Kill
Guns Kill

Guns Kill

Whats That
Whats That

Whats That

Opinionating
Opinionating

Opinionating

gun cocking
gun cocking

gun cocking

scenes
scenes

scenes

johns
johns

johns

state
state

state

entitlement
entitlement

entitlement

there
there

there

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guns: Pues el otro día vi la peli esa (Guns Akimbo, no Harry Potter) y oye, pues está graciosa y frenética.
guns: Pues el otro día vi la peli esa (Guns Akimbo, no Harry Potter) y oye, pues está graciosa y frenética.

Pues el otro día vi la peli esa (Guns Akimbo, no Harry Potter) y oye, pues está graciosa y frenética.

guns: i love nerf guns (and real guns)
guns: i love nerf guns (and real guns)

i love nerf guns (and real guns)

guns: *finger guns*
guns: *finger guns*

*finger guns*

guns: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER
guns: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER

cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the g...

guns: chapter-master-darius: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: just-another-guardsman: wh40kartwork: Krieger by Rotaken The certified madlad Huh neatWaitThat gun looks familiarHmmm. Ah.Whack The Gatling MG42 is literally the worst fucking thing i have ever seen in my life of being interested in history and Videogames Worst design yes and I can name so much of the pointless bullshit with itHell. Only remembered the piece of shit weapon because I once spent half an hour staring at its stock for study Also didn’t it have like one or two mags? Those things only really held up to 100 shots at best. 200 shots for a Gatling gun mg42 that probably shoots even faster than the 1400rpm the original hasThat is no lmg. Thats a shotgun with a weight of like 40 kilos by the looks of it It had 1 magazine. No reloadability (also had no dust tray cover release thing or drum release). Some bs about balancing. 250 rounds in game for somme reason. Last I checked those kinds of drums could only hold a 50 round belt. Lowest firerate on any modern rotary barrel weapon is 1000rpm of the Gau-19, the same wepaon can achive 2000rpm. But thats 50cal/12.7. Assuming this uses the same ammo as the MG42, than that would be 7.92×57, the nearest weapons we have for that is the US M134 which has a firerate of 3000rpm to 6000rpm or the Russian GShG-7.62 (a 4 barreled one) which has 3500rpm to 6000rpm. So realistically the 50 round belt would be used up in 1 second to half a second. The 250 belt would be 5 seconds to 2 and a half seconds. Thats nowhere near enough. So again, bad design. Also if it uses a belt it would need a delinker.The barrel shroud was left on each individual barrel, forcing the barrels apart. More weight. Would also need a more powerful rotor to spin it. Gatling weapons forgo barrel shrouds because the multiple barrels are to help cooling.The foregrip was in the right place but wasn’t reinforced enough/where it connects with the weapon needed to be a bit more forward.The barrels had to “spin up” first. That would realistically waste ammo. Electric rotart guns start firing immediately and at a high firerate which climbs over like, a second or two as the motor warms up. Also upon the trigger being released they stop spinning immediatly. But that things barrels kept spinning, which would eject unfired rounds. Also the barrels never seemed to line up with any kind of breach, instead coming to rest in some random ass place, no sense whatsoever.IT HAS NO SIGHTSWHERE IS ITS POWER SOURCE That gun is a fucking mess and i hate it so much. The 1960 plasma one angers me more. (3 barrels that dont spin. Only one barrel is ever used. Why. Why then3 barrels. Somehow plays worse than that stupid ass gatling mg42/46. Bunch other reasons I’m too angry and tired for atm)Also as for the art that started this. 40k already has rotor cannons which normal humans can pick up, although thosw only got ised in 30k (and 40k as the soulfire cannon used by magnus’ lads) Aye. The only wolfenstein weapon i actually liked in the new Games was the Hatchet. Even the knife in New Order was a total nightmare You two are overlooking the fact that these weapons were used to brutally murder Nazis. Focus on the good things, yeah? True. I fully agree but technical nonsense makes me angery
guns: chapter-master-darius: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: just-another-guardsman: wh40kartwork: Krieger by Rotaken The certified madlad Huh neatWaitThat gun looks familiarHmmm. Ah.Whack The Gatling MG42 is literally the worst fucking thing i have ever seen in my life of being interested in history and Videogames Worst design yes and I can name so much of the pointless bullshit with itHell. Only remembered the piece of shit weapon because I once spent half an hour staring at its stock for study Also didn’t it have like one or two mags? Those things only really held up to 100 shots at best. 200 shots for a Gatling gun mg42 that probably shoots even faster than the 1400rpm the original hasThat is no lmg. Thats a shotgun with a weight of like 40 kilos by the looks of it It had 1 magazine. No reloadability (also had no dust tray cover release thing or drum release). Some bs about balancing. 250 rounds in game for somme reason. Last I checked those kinds of drums could only hold a 50 round belt. Lowest firerate on any modern rotary barrel weapon is 1000rpm of the Gau-19, the same wepaon can achive 2000rpm. But thats 50cal/12.7. Assuming this uses the same ammo as the MG42, than that would be 7.92×57, the nearest weapons we have for that is the US M134 which has a firerate of 3000rpm to 6000rpm or the Russian GShG-7.62 (a 4 barreled one) which has 3500rpm to 6000rpm. So realistically the 50 round belt would be used up in 1 second to half a second. The 250 belt would be 5 seconds to 2 and a half seconds. Thats nowhere near enough. So again, bad design. Also if it uses a belt it would need a delinker.The barrel shroud was left on each individual barrel, forcing the barrels apart. More weight. Would also need a more powerful rotor to spin it. Gatling weapons forgo barrel shrouds because the multiple barrels are to help cooling.The foregrip was in the right place but wasn’t reinforced enough/where it connects with the weapon needed to be a bit more forward.The barrels had to “spin up” first. That would realistically waste ammo. Electric rotart guns start firing immediately and at a high firerate which climbs over like, a second or two as the motor warms up. Also upon the trigger being released they stop spinning immediatly. But that things barrels kept spinning, which would eject unfired rounds. Also the barrels never seemed to line up with any kind of breach, instead coming to rest in some random ass place, no sense whatsoever.IT HAS NO SIGHTSWHERE IS ITS POWER SOURCE That gun is a fucking mess and i hate it so much. The 1960 plasma one angers me more. (3 barrels that dont spin. Only one barrel is ever used. Why. Why then3 barrels. Somehow plays worse than that stupid ass gatling mg42/46. Bunch other reasons I’m too angry and tired for atm)Also as for the art that started this. 40k already has rotor cannons which normal humans can pick up, although thosw only got ised in 30k (and 40k as the soulfire cannon used by magnus’ lads) Aye. The only wolfenstein weapon i actually liked in the new Games was the Hatchet. Even the knife in New Order was a total nightmare You two are overlooking the fact that these weapons were used to brutally murder Nazis. Focus on the good things, yeah? True. I fully agree but technical nonsense makes me angery

chapter-master-darius: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlor...

guns: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: just-another-guardsman: wh40kartwork: Krieger by Rotaken The certified madlad Huh neatWaitThat gun looks familiarHmmm. Ah.Whack The Gatling MG42 is literally the worst fucking thing i have ever seen in my life of being interested in history and Videogames Worst design yes and I can name so much of the pointless bullshit with itHell. Only remembered the piece of shit weapon because I once spent half an hour staring at its stock for study Also didn’t it have like one or two mags? Those things only really held up to 100 shots at best. 200 shots for a Gatling gun mg42 that probably shoots even faster than the 1400rpm the original hasThat is no lmg. Thats a shotgun with a weight of like 40 kilos by the looks of it It had 1 magazine. No reloadability (also had no dust tray cover release thing or drum release). Some bs about balancing. 250 rounds in game for somme reason. Last I checked those kinds of drums could only hold a 50 round belt. Lowest firerate on any modern rotary barrel weapon is 1000rpm of the Gau-19, the same wepaon can achive 2000rpm. But thats 50cal/12.7. Assuming this uses the same ammo as the MG42, than that would be 7.92×57, the nearest weapons we have for that is the US M134 which has a firerate of 3000rpm to 6000rpm or the Russian GShG-7.62 (a 4 barreled one) which has 3500rpm to 6000rpm. So realistically the 50 round belt would be used up in 1 second to half a second. The 250 belt would be 5 seconds to 2 and a half seconds. Thats nowhere near enough. So again, bad design. Also if it uses a belt it would need a delinker.The barrel shroud was left on each individual barrel, forcing the barrels apart. More weight. Would also need a more powerful rotor to spin it. Gatling weapons forgo barrel shrouds because the multiple barrels are to help cooling.The foregrip was in the right place but wasn’t reinforced enough/where it connects with the weapon needed to be a bit more forward.The barrels had to “spin up” first. That would realistically waste ammo. Electric rotart guns start firing immediately and at a high firerate which climbs over like, a second or two as the motor warms up. Also upon the trigger being released they stop spinning immediatly. But that things barrels kept spinning, which would eject unfired rounds. Also the barrels never seemed to line up with any kind of breach, instead coming to rest in some random ass place, no sense whatsoever.IT HAS NO SIGHTSWHERE IS ITS POWER SOURCE That gun is a fucking mess and i hate it so much. The 1960 plasma one angers me more. (3 barrels that dont spin. Only one barrel is ever used. Why. Why then3 barrels. Somehow plays worse than that stupid ass gatling mg42/46. Bunch other reasons I’m too angry and tired for atm)Also as for the art that started this. 40k already has rotor cannons which normal humans can pick up, although thosw only got ised in 30k (and 40k as the soulfire cannon used by magnus’ lads) Aye. The only wolfenstein weapon i actually liked in the new Games was the Hatchet. Even the knife in New Order was a total nightmare
guns: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: just-another-guardsman: wh40kartwork: Krieger by Rotaken The certified madlad Huh neatWaitThat gun looks familiarHmmm. Ah.Whack The Gatling MG42 is literally the worst fucking thing i have ever seen in my life of being interested in history and Videogames Worst design yes and I can name so much of the pointless bullshit with itHell. Only remembered the piece of shit weapon because I once spent half an hour staring at its stock for study Also didn’t it have like one or two mags? Those things only really held up to 100 shots at best. 200 shots for a Gatling gun mg42 that probably shoots even faster than the 1400rpm the original hasThat is no lmg. Thats a shotgun with a weight of like 40 kilos by the looks of it It had 1 magazine. No reloadability (also had no dust tray cover release thing or drum release). Some bs about balancing. 250 rounds in game for somme reason. Last I checked those kinds of drums could only hold a 50 round belt. Lowest firerate on any modern rotary barrel weapon is 1000rpm of the Gau-19, the same wepaon can achive 2000rpm. But thats 50cal/12.7. Assuming this uses the same ammo as the MG42, than that would be 7.92×57, the nearest weapons we have for that is the US M134 which has a firerate of 3000rpm to 6000rpm or the Russian GShG-7.62 (a 4 barreled one) which has 3500rpm to 6000rpm. So realistically the 50 round belt would be used up in 1 second to half a second. The 250 belt would be 5 seconds to 2 and a half seconds. Thats nowhere near enough. So again, bad design. Also if it uses a belt it would need a delinker.The barrel shroud was left on each individual barrel, forcing the barrels apart. More weight. Would also need a more powerful rotor to spin it. Gatling weapons forgo barrel shrouds because the multiple barrels are to help cooling.The foregrip was in the right place but wasn’t reinforced enough/where it connects with the weapon needed to be a bit more forward.The barrels had to “spin up” first. That would realistically waste ammo. Electric rotart guns start firing immediately and at a high firerate which climbs over like, a second or two as the motor warms up. Also upon the trigger being released they stop spinning immediatly. But that things barrels kept spinning, which would eject unfired rounds. Also the barrels never seemed to line up with any kind of breach, instead coming to rest in some random ass place, no sense whatsoever.IT HAS NO SIGHTSWHERE IS ITS POWER SOURCE That gun is a fucking mess and i hate it so much. The 1960 plasma one angers me more. (3 barrels that dont spin. Only one barrel is ever used. Why. Why then3 barrels. Somehow plays worse than that stupid ass gatling mg42/46. Bunch other reasons I’m too angry and tired for atm)Also as for the art that started this. 40k already has rotor cannons which normal humans can pick up, although thosw only got ised in 30k (and 40k as the soulfire cannon used by magnus’ lads) Aye. The only wolfenstein weapon i actually liked in the new Games was the Hatchet. Even the knife in New Order was a total nightmare

feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: randomnightlord: feniczoroark: just-another-guardsman:...

guns: Guns are essential though
guns: Guns are essential though

Guns are essential though

guns: Big guns
guns: Big guns

Big guns

guns: ironwoman359: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER I love this
guns: ironwoman359: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER I love this

ironwoman359: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: Th...

guns: *Finger Guns*
guns: *Finger Guns*

*Finger Guns*

guns: Dem 2 big guns by OneWhoShouldBeNamed MORE MEMES
guns: Dem 2 big guns by OneWhoShouldBeNamed MORE MEMES

Dem 2 big guns by OneWhoShouldBeNamed MORE MEMES

guns: God loves guns and so should you
guns: God loves guns and so should you

God loves guns and so should you

guns: What should I absolutely not do when visiting the USA? Charlie Knoles, I have lived in 5 countries and am an Aussie expat in the USA Answered 2d ago + Don't get out of your car ifyou get pulled over by police. I was pulled over by a police officer while driving in Iowa. It was one week afterI had arrived in the USA for the first time. I had accidentally made a minor mistake disobeying a traffic sign. Back home in Australia it's considered polite to get out of your car and walk over to the police officer's car and hand him your license so he doesn't have to get out of his seat. I wanted to be extra polite so I immediately jumped out of my car and walked towards his car while reaching into my back pocket. I'm lucky to be alive. If you come from a gun-free country like the UK or Australia you don't have any natural instinct for gun culture. You don't realize that police assume that everyone is armed. Things got immediately serious. The police officer's hand went to his weapon and I responded by dropping to my knees with my hands up. He yelled a bunch of things at me but my memory is vague because my heartbeat was suddenly pulsing in my ears blotting out all sound. I don't know if he drew his weapon or not. I was staring intently at the ground, shaking and trying to project non- threatening vibes. My next memory is that there were three police cars around me and a bunch of cops who'd been called for backup. They were all keeping their hands close to their guns. After some time passed (a minute? 30 minutes?I have no idea) the tensions de-escalated and they told me to get up. I gave the officer my license and tried to explain why I'd approached him. It was completely incomprehensible to him that there was a place where people don't fear cops and vice versa at traffic stops. It was as though I was trying to tell him that I came from Narnia and our cops were all talking animals. I've spoken to several British people, New Zealanders, and Australians who have shared almost identical stories. They really need to put signs up in all major US airports. Don't get out of your car if stopped by police. They will assume you are armed and they might shoot you. fierceawakening: adelmortescryche: Reblogging for other diasporic and expat folk. Especially non-caucasian diasporic and expat folk. Some things change when you shift countries. Keep the changes in mind. Whenever I see this I wonder what the gun guys think about it.
guns: What should I absolutely not do when visiting the USA? Charlie Knoles, I have lived in 5 countries and am an Aussie expat in the USA Answered 2d ago + Don't get out of your car ifyou get pulled over by police. I was pulled over by a police officer while driving in Iowa. It was one week afterI had arrived in the USA for the first time. I had accidentally made a minor mistake disobeying a traffic sign. Back home in Australia it's considered polite to get out of your car and walk over to the police officer's car and hand him your license so he doesn't have to get out of his seat. I wanted to be extra polite so I immediately jumped out of my car and walked towards his car while reaching into my back pocket. I'm lucky to be alive. If you come from a gun-free country like the UK or Australia you don't have any natural instinct for gun culture. You don't realize that police assume that everyone is armed. Things got immediately serious. The police officer's hand went to his weapon and I responded by dropping to my knees with my hands up. He yelled a bunch of things at me but my memory is vague because my heartbeat was suddenly pulsing in my ears blotting out all sound. I don't know if he drew his weapon or not. I was staring intently at the ground, shaking and trying to project non- threatening vibes. My next memory is that there were three police cars around me and a bunch of cops who'd been called for backup. They were all keeping their hands close to their guns. After some time passed (a minute? 30 minutes?I have no idea) the tensions de-escalated and they told me to get up. I gave the officer my license and tried to explain why I'd approached him. It was completely incomprehensible to him that there was a place where people don't fear cops and vice versa at traffic stops. It was as though I was trying to tell him that I came from Narnia and our cops were all talking animals. I've spoken to several British people, New Zealanders, and Australians who have shared almost identical stories. They really need to put signs up in all major US airports. Don't get out of your car if stopped by police. They will assume you are armed and they might shoot you. fierceawakening: adelmortescryche: Reblogging for other diasporic and expat folk. Especially non-caucasian diasporic and expat folk. Some things change when you shift countries. Keep the changes in mind. Whenever I see this I wonder what the gun guys think about it.

fierceawakening: adelmortescryche: Reblogging for other diasporic and expat folk. Especially non-caucasian diasporic and expat folk. Some...

guns: Suihisonian CHANNEL flicker-serthes: sebastianmichaelisthedevilwithin: wortlby2: germanamericanslavic: Colorized footage of the legendary Annie Oakley speed shooting with her Winchester rifle, November 1, 1894 “When a man hits a target, they call him a marksman. When I hit a target, they call it a trick. Never did like that much.” - Annie Oakley Idk who Annie Oakley is, but she’s so cool! Annie Oakley was. BEAST of a marksman. When she was fifteen, she went head-to-head in a shooting contest with a prize of $100, against a travelling exhibition marksman (Frank Butler). She beat him handily, and won the $100 (equivalent to over $2000 today). Please note that it was a shot-for-shot match, and he lost on the TWENTY-FIFTH clay pigeon (so it was a moving target, too). Twenty-five shots in a row, Annie hit them ALL. This, understandably, resulted in Frank, who drank his respect women juice, to be like “Wow that is super hot and I’m in love.” They ended up getting married pretty soon after that, but didn’t have any kids (but IMAGINE IF THEY DID. A FAMILY OF SHARPSHOOTERS). Some of her “trick” shooting (in other words, absolute badass nearly impossible shots given the sights on guns at the time and such) included: Splitting a playing card clean in half from thirty paces while it was place on its edge. Taking off the burning end of a cigarette placed in her husband’s mouth, from thirty+ paces. Having someone throw a DIME into the air, and shooting it clean through. She was lauded by Chief Sitting Bull for her marksmanship when he saw her blow out a candle with one shot, without damaging the wick or the candle itself. Into her sixties, she continued breaking records as well as being a vocal women’s rights activist. She, in her later years, shot 100 clay pigeons in a row from 15 meters. She died in 1915, and her husband was so consumed by grief that he stopped eating and died 18 days later because he couldn’t stand to be apart from her. After her death it was discovered that her ENTIRE fortune (a tidy amount) had been secretly given to several charities, women’s rights groups, and her family in the last few months of her life. She was legendary, and received numerous titles to go along with her abilities, but my favorite is definitely Annie Oakley, Little Sureshot of the West.
guns: Suihisonian CHANNEL flicker-serthes: sebastianmichaelisthedevilwithin: wortlby2: germanamericanslavic: Colorized footage of the legendary Annie Oakley speed shooting with her Winchester rifle, November 1, 1894 “When a man hits a target, they call him a marksman. When I hit a target, they call it a trick. Never did like that much.” - Annie Oakley Idk who Annie Oakley is, but she’s so cool! Annie Oakley was. BEAST of a marksman. When she was fifteen, she went head-to-head in a shooting contest with a prize of $100, against a travelling exhibition marksman (Frank Butler). She beat him handily, and won the $100 (equivalent to over $2000 today). Please note that it was a shot-for-shot match, and he lost on the TWENTY-FIFTH clay pigeon (so it was a moving target, too). Twenty-five shots in a row, Annie hit them ALL. This, understandably, resulted in Frank, who drank his respect women juice, to be like “Wow that is super hot and I’m in love.” They ended up getting married pretty soon after that, but didn’t have any kids (but IMAGINE IF THEY DID. A FAMILY OF SHARPSHOOTERS). Some of her “trick” shooting (in other words, absolute badass nearly impossible shots given the sights on guns at the time and such) included: Splitting a playing card clean in half from thirty paces while it was place on its edge. Taking off the burning end of a cigarette placed in her husband’s mouth, from thirty+ paces. Having someone throw a DIME into the air, and shooting it clean through. She was lauded by Chief Sitting Bull for her marksmanship when he saw her blow out a candle with one shot, without damaging the wick or the candle itself. Into her sixties, she continued breaking records as well as being a vocal women’s rights activist. She, in her later years, shot 100 clay pigeons in a row from 15 meters. She died in 1915, and her husband was so consumed by grief that he stopped eating and died 18 days later because he couldn’t stand to be apart from her. After her death it was discovered that her ENTIRE fortune (a tidy amount) had been secretly given to several charities, women’s rights groups, and her family in the last few months of her life. She was legendary, and received numerous titles to go along with her abilities, but my favorite is definitely Annie Oakley, Little Sureshot of the West.

flicker-serthes: sebastianmichaelisthedevilwithin: wortlby2: germanamericanslavic: Colorized footage of the legendary Annie Oakley sp...

guns: zartbitter-salat: Guns out, tiddies out, tongue out! ->Twitter
guns: zartbitter-salat: Guns out, tiddies out, tongue out! ->Twitter

zartbitter-salat: Guns out, tiddies out, tongue out! ->Twitter