#Firearm Maintenance

[vintagepromotions]

‘His rifle will fire - will mine? Care of arms is care of life’

British military safety reminder poster (c. 1940). Artwork by Abram Games.

[historyofguns]

The article "First-Time Handgun Owner’s Guide" by Paul Carlson on The Armory Life website provides comprehensive information for new firearms owners. It addresses the complexities and responsibilities associated with owning a modern semi-automatic handgun, such as the Springfield Hellcat, emphasizing that these guns are actually simple, reliable, and easy to use. Carlson discusses the importance of understanding firearm terminology and proper handling, comparing gun vocabulary to knowing basic tool terminology to facilitate better communication and learning. The article includes a video and encourages new gun owners to engage with the online community at The Armory Life Forum for further discussion and advice.

[goliathindustries]

Trigger Control 101: Mastering the Art of Precision Shooting

Refine your shooting precision with expert advice on trigger control, covering grip, finger placement, and essential drills. Strengthen your accuracy and confidence right away!

[summerlinarmory]

Corrosion poses a significant threat to the integrity and longevity of firearms and other supplies. Safeguarding your investments against corrosion is essential for maintaining their value, performance, and aesthetics. As a gun shop in Las Vegas, NV, allow us to share some proactive measures to protect your beloved firearms against rust.

[concealedlab]

Choose the Right Handgun

The Right Gun and Method of Carry Are Essential to First-Time Buyers and Seasoned Pros Alike

If there’s one thing that’s true in the firearm world, it’s that there’s a lot to know about how to choose a handgun.

There are two schools of thought at work here; one is “old school” and which means revolvers, the other is the current trend toward new subcompact and ultra-compact semiautomatics in calibers from .380 up to .45 ACP. In my experience, the Handgun choice between a revolver and a semi-auto has always been very personal. If you grew up around a father, older brother, or another family member who favored one style of gun over another, that has probably biased your preferences, but for first-time consumers and new CCW (concealed carry weapon) permit holders with no preconceived notions, the choices are wide open. Both revolvers and semi-autos present options that need to be given genuine consideration.Read the Full Post to Click here… 

[seat-safety-switch]

One of my more accomplished friends is an MRI operator. When we first got talking about what we did for a living, I didn't get very interested. Now, don't think I'm some kind of elitist snob. My career (freelance journalist/greasy dirtbag) is a laugh-a-minute thrill ride, where you're as likely to get hunted down by friends of corrupt small government as you are to throw up in the back of a diesel-swapped Geo Metro being used to chase cows back into the paddock. It's set the bar very, very high.

By comparison, MRIs are boring healthcare stuff, meant for taking extremely high-quality pictures of people's junk all day long. Those pictures are then viewed by doctors, who will sneer at those people for not eating enough cauliflower. Just an absolute snore, which although involving a cool machine that's very loud, didn't fascinate me in the least.

That is, until they mentioned The Quench. In case you're unfamiliar, MRI machines operate on the principles of magnetism (that's the "M.") Big-ass magnets are used to send pulses throughout the machine, and those pulses are inconveniently blocked by chunks of your body standing in the way. By recording how irritated those magnets are, we can figure out what's going on inside your shit. Of course, you need big, big magnets for this, you're not running down to the grocery store and diagnosing a brain misfire using that cute little toddler-art-retainer shaped like a frog.

Sometimes, when shit really goes wrong, you need to stop the magnetism in a hurry. Maybe a patient walked in with a fully loaded firearm, and the magnets are now using it to shoot the inside of the machine. Perhaps you just decided that you would like to end your career. Either way, hitting the "quench" button douses those magnets with several hundred thousand dollars' worth of liquid helium, which makes them stop doing magnet-y things and start racking up billable hours for the MRI maintenance guy. This kind of highly expensive mechanical failure is my jam, and I asked immediately where I could get me some of those quenched-up magnets. Surely, they wouldn't reuse anything they've beaten up in this way?

My so-called friend figured out what I was up to, and clammed up almost immediately. Almost. He gave me just enough information for my inquisitive journalistic mind to figure out that they just chuck these big-ass magnets into the dumpster out back of the hospital, and someone with an enterprising enough mindset could then un-chuck them into the back of, say, a U-Haul van with the license plate removed after being careful to avoid all the security cameras along the way. Not that I would do such a thing, especially because it involves driving through a particularly weak chain-link fence near the seniors' centre.

Coincidentally, are you coming to my unveiling of my new magnetic-levitation Volare-launching system this weekend? I promise to listen very intently to whatever bullshit you say about your boring job, you'll love it. The Mayor is gonna be there, cut the ribbon and everything. Shit. Siri, remind me to get plastic scissors for The Mayor.

[c-rowlesdraws]

browsing twitter for longer than a few minutes gives me radiation poisoning these days, and it’s worse in the evening, in the hours when the dark feelings creep in anyway. So even though I’m really apprehensive to talk politics on my art blog (I mean, if the backlash to a hyperbolic post I made about a famous youtuber is this bad, posting about politics would turn my activity page into a window to hell), I have to vent some of my feelings or that radiation damage will just keep getting quietly worse. And a fair number of people read this blog, and seem to like things that I create and say, so for what it’s worth, I want to say some things I hope people will think about.

Someone I really admire tweeted recently about how hopeless they feel. They said that after many years of fighting for social change, they had no fight left. They said they were too exhausted to vote in the upcoming US presidential election. And I tried to understand where they were coming from, because this is someone I look up to. But I can’t. I understand feeling burnt out. I feel nauseous and heartbroken and scared, thinking about the situation in Palestine and the situation in my country. I understand that it seems like there is no good leader to rally behind.

But I can’t tap out. I can’t give in to hopelessness and say, “I can’t choose. I’m tired and I’m done”. When a choice is between maintenance of an imperfect society with incremental steps towards better things, and cranking human misery and suffering enthusiastically up to 11, I’m going with the former. We are all tired every day. But voting is not physically difficult. Even if you are tired, you can do it. There is a day where you go to a building, and you fill in a bubble next to a name, and you go home. They even give you a sticker. I said voting isn’t hard, but actually, it’s very important to say that for a lot of people in the US, voting is hard to access, and for some groups, impossible. It is made difficult on purpose, by people—Republicans, it’s fucking always them, I don’t know why I’m using vague language—who want to disenfranchise as many people as they can. If voting was really a useless gesture, if it really meant nothing— they wouldn’t be working so damn hard to stop poor people and immigrants and prisoners and folks in general from being able to do it.

If you hate Biden, god, fine, whatever. But he is going to be the nominee of the political party made up of judges and politicians that, for the most part, believe that climate change is real and ought to be mitigated, that the US should not be turned into an evangelical christian theocracy, that firearms should be regulated, that businesses should be regulated, that healthcare should be more affordable and accessible, that people should be able to get safe abortions, that trans and all lgbt people deserve to live their lives, and that asylum-seekers shouldn’t be shredded by concertina wire trying to cross the border. The wheel of social change is huge and fucking heavy and sometimes it looks like it isn’t moving at all. But we can feel it move if we all push together.

I caught a Trump ad on the radio the other day and it was some of the scariest shit. “Trump will bring order to chaos,” it said. “He will ban travel from terrorist countries, and end the disastrous open-border policies allowing illegal migrants and deadly drugs like fentanyl to flood into our country.” The fucking anti-muslim travel ban. It’s back, baby. That was the exact phrasing: terrorist countries. If Biden’s foreign policy with regards to the Middle East is frustrating and despair-inducing already, Trump’s would be a catastrophe. The Republicans think Democrats are soft on terrorism. As much as anyone with a conscience is horrified by the US’s continued passivity with regards to Palestine, this motherfucker getting back in office would bring greater horror. I’m really sure about it. I don’t know what that part of the world will look like next fall, but I’m confident that if this dumb bloodthirsty motherfucker regains office, there would be absolutely no hope of public pressure swaying US foreign policy towards “less murder”. Protesting against war and genocide or for any progressive or civil rights cause would become even more dangerous. I still think about the woman who was run over by a car at the protest in 2017

…I’m rambling. I can’t help it. But I don’t want to just ramble unproductively. I should end this with something I hope makes sense to people snd can’t be easily dismissed, even if you already disagree with something I’ve said. I want to say how I genuinely feel.

I believe that imperfect activism is valuable, because it is better to show up and stand in solidarity with other people fighting for a more just world than to not show up at all. I believe all activism is in some way imperfect, because activists are people, and people are imperfect. That is to say, one middle-aged woman who showed up to a DC protest wearing a hand-crocheted pink pussy hat, who maybe hadn’t been to many (or any) protests before but who felt fired up about this one, was worth ten of the smug “real leftists” sneering about her on twitter. Maybe more than ten. Your own activism will be imperfect. But keep an open mind— to your own learning and to others’. Doing “the bare minimum” (and, ugh, what a discouraging phrase) is still doing. We have to encourage everyone who feels drawn to fighting for social good. We have to link arms with one another and be strong. Even if you think the person next to you is a lame-o liberal, if they believe that (for example) trans people deserve access to gender-affirming care and should not be smashed flat into fruit-by-the-foot and sent straight to hell, they are your comrade.

Be wary of people who self-identify as Cassandras and unheeded prophets, especially if their messages consistently emphasize how everything is garbage and the world can’t be saved. If someone is telling you that only they understand how uniquely horrible things are, that no progressive or leftist political philosophy is viable except for the specific one they adhere to, that no news or media sources are worthwhile or even trustworthy except for the small handful of ones they endorse… I won’t say to stop listening to them or following them, but I’d recommend listening to other people, too.

Do your own reading about issues that are important to you. Read many people’s words, watch videos, think about what you believe, and how those beliefs have changed over time, and stay open to being further changed. We are all constantly learning and shaping ourselves, and teaching, and being shaped by others. All of us are tired. But we can hold each other up.

I don’t have a rousing call to action. Just the same things many people are already saying that I’ve felt encouraged by, in a grim sort of way: protest and donate when and where you can, support political candidates on the local and national stage who do support policies you agree with, who could do real good. It feels very hard right now to be hopeful. But we all have to live in whatever future comes eventually— so I think we have to still participate, and that means things like voting. We are all tired. But we have to keep going. There is, ultimately, no sitting out. People who opt out of voting still must live under the social climate and policies imposed by the person who gets elected, and who they endorse and empower and appoint, and who those people empower and appoint, and so on.

This post doesn’t have a good conclusion. I didn’t write it thinking about what would make for a satisfying structure in general. But if you read it, then thank you for reading.

[molagboop]

How long do you think it takes Samus to do regular bounties that don't end up exploding (or saving) a planet? What does RB do when she's out working?

How long a bounty takes depends on where she's going: how far is it from home port, how long is the travel distance, and whether or not she's going to end up hopping planets. A normal, non-galaxy threatening situation can take 1-2 days at a minimum, and up to a week if she has to travel great distances or go out of her way to chase something down. It's all very situational. The shortest jobs take a few hours and typically aren't far from Daiban.

As for what Raven Beak does while she's gone, I think an easier question would probably be "what doesn't he do". The guy's a polymath with a plethora of skills to draw from.

You'll typically find him keeping house, running errands, and poring over recent news articles or scientific publications. He keeps to himself, but finds knowing what's going on in the world around him useful. He's also interested in comparing new and existing scientific discoveries in Federation space with his own prior knowledge, which draws from the extensive collective knowledge of the Chozo.

Occasionally he'll learn something new, or stumble across an interesting application of existing concepts or substances that he'll pocket for later. Most of the time, he's checking to see how far ahead or behind the rest of the galaxy is in certain fields.

In Mawkin society, it's the norm for folks who aren't presently working on anything (or are otherwise "unemployed" for lack of a better word) to assist their neighbors or maintain the living space amid leisure time. A "living space" in this context can be anything from a tiny shared hole in the wall to an entire settlement. That's called "nest maintenance" (or "flock maintenance"). Elderly folk who are too old to fight or do most forms of active labor often make flock maintenance their personal duty. That's Raven Beak's role in the household.

He was the provisioner for his division early in his warrior-adept days, so he knows how to cook (and he does it rather efficiently). He was drilled in resting place cleanliness as a greenhorn and he had centuries to hone his practical and "home" skills even before becoming his people's Warlord. You wouldn't think it because most of the skills we've had the chance to see from him in canon involve stimulating the turbines of an active forearm-mounted firearm, but he's rather handy.

Less outward is the poetry he composes every now and again while working or idling. Raven Beak doesn't make physical documents, and he keeps his lines to himself: he allows the verses to come to him. When Samus isn't around, there tends to be a little more idling, especially if he doesn't have any plans. Part of his regular schedule involves presenting her with a terse conversation point for her to jump off of: if she's not there to engage in banal conversation about life or mechanics, and he has nothing better to do, he sits on the couch and allows his mind to wander.

[ratwithhands]

1 - Diantha security detail comic

2 + 3 - Emmet's UDF uniform vs Kalosian Guard uniform

4 - Lore/Background comic

Hooo boy ok so this idea has been simmering on the backburner for a while now. So Legends Z-A had its trailer released a few days back and I figured I'd make something around it. I know logically it's going to be a game set in the past but I found myself wanting to work on something more futuristic/sci-fi which is why we have our little Cyber Emmet here.

There's a lot of different things to mention so I'm just gonna break them down by the images.

1:

Diantha is attending a conference/ceremony where she will be discussing the plans for the urbanization of Kalos with the assistance of neighbouring tech giant and long time trade partner Unova. As a sign of goodwill, the Unovan Defense Force sent several people to either work as security or to help organize and prepare the ceremony. Among the list of people is Emmet, who was recently "working with" the UDF, and who is going to serve as Diantha's bodyguard for the event

Emmet's uniform was made by a mix of Unovan and Kalosian designers. It's meant to mimic the shapes while still keeping aspects of his Unovan uniform (mainly the collar, cuffs, and silver trim). He is carrying a handgun from his UDF uniform, however due to the public nature of the event, he is using his charge pistol instead of his wired pistol. He's also using a different face shield, using a silver one as opposed to his black one, since it better matches the uniform he's wearing for the event

Diantha's fur coat still has the angel wing shape. This isn't lore relevant I just couldn't fit the full thing onto the panel but it's definitely there

2 + 3:

Emmet uses a wired pistol (left side holster) and a charge pistol (right side holster). Both are standard issue firearms used by the UDF, however charge pistols are more common thanks to them being easy to hold and carry. A wired pistol connects to a battery pack of some kind to fire at a greater speed, whereas a charge pistol will generate its own power but take longer to fire and load. Emmet's wired pistol connects to the battery network that powers his body, allowing him to take advantage of his fast reflexes by using his faster weapon

Emmet doesn't get anything to wear for his Unovan uniform! Part of the contract he signed for his cybernetics states that he can't cover the prostheses unless it could lead to a breach in confidentiality (such as going to a foreign region or appearing in public outside of work reasons) since he's meant to effectively advertise the quality and construction of the body built for him. Of course he refuses to go outside completely naked to fight so the UDF got him a cropped version of his coat and shoes so he can have some more cover

The face shield is meant more for form than function. Technically the only purpose they serve is to cover his face when he's out on patrol, though it can also act as a screen to show him information about what he's seeing (kind of like an AR headset). He could technically get the screen function though cornea implants but he's not doing that + he wants the anonymity provided by the shield

Sections of the body can split open or be removed. The front abdominal panel can do both due to the different processing mechanisms inside needing easy access for repair/maintenance. Limbs can be swapped for different prostheses provided they have a compatible socket

The sockets in Emmet's back can be used to power other weapons/devices if he has a compatible cable. Emmet was given a bag of different attachments and cables to hook into his back so he can power a range of things from phones to laser rifles

He has removable skin. Any shot of him with the black body is the body without skin. In situations where he could possibly have skin showing or he is required to wear something that shows more skin, he'll have material rolled over the sections of his body that will be visible so they look more normal

4:

Emmet got run over by a train ♥ long story short is that he went to rescue a passenger who had fallen off the platform and miscalculated how much time he had before the train pulled in. Once he got stabilized in the hospital afterwards, he only has around 30% of his original body intact, along with some sections they were able to somewhat repair but required new hardware being installed in order to return their function. Anything under the waist and a large portion of his arms were crushed beyond repair and as such, he's been connected to different machine to mimic the functions of his organs

The UDF (in a rather scummy play) contacted Emmet for business, asking him to sign a contract that would ensure he would live by letting them test their confidential new tech on him. He is the only ethical candidate they have for testing such prostheses so to get him to agree, they offer to cover the cost of everything relating to his health and work, as well as paying him a salary for the trouble. Since the only other options are "die slowly" or "lose all self sufficiency and go bankrupt living in hospital", he agrees, and so begins his second job as a living experiment and tool for the UDF

I think that's the most I've written for one post yikes. This isn't even everything but I'll cut it here because my hands are not pleased with me typing.

I still have a lot to think about for this concept, mostly what kind of work Emmet will do while overseas in Kalos and whether something dangerous enough will happen to warrant him using his body for what it was made for. That might be funny, only two settings and they're "I love macarons :)" and bloodshed.

Anyways hope you guys enjoyed this dump, feel free to ask on anything (it helps me write too ^^). See you later and have a nice day!

[slifarianhawk]

Some Wesker headcanons that live in my head rent-free will include SFW and NSFW romantic and normal 🪷

Day to day

-he is a proper English user and is proud of it. Does not like to use contractions and will only use them when he is angry/ pissed the fuck off

-he loves classical music and jazz when he is feeling in the mood. If he had a partner, he would not complain about the music they listen too.

-he is thorough about personal health and hygiene. Clean shaven, showers before bed, uses a antibacterial soap and washes his hands for 40 seconds each time ( he is a virologist after all. he knows how bacteria and viruses spread)

-At the same time he is not a germaphobe or neat freak but will keep everything nice and organized

-he has a strict routine he follows and only makes time for his partner even if it is just a small kiss or a light caress in the hall

- he has two colognes he uses one is a vanilla sandalwood and musk he custom orders and for just around the house he uses Noir from Bath and Body Works (gift from partner)

- in his downtime, he goes over research With his partner's head on his lap or takes care of his Samurai Edge by doing maintenance and properly cleaning each component. It is after all his main firearm.

Relationship HC

Pet names- love, dearest, dearheart, and a flower that represents you ex: my determined gladiolus, my innocent carnation, my precious lotus (I use the third in my wesker fanfic)

-he is not much of a cuddle bug but if he is laying in bed with his partner he will hold them close and not let go

-isn't overly affectionate but will make time to see his partner throughout the day just to whispered sweet nothings to you

-partner fell first and both argued about who fell harder to be honest you both fell equally as hard

-if some one made his partner cry there would be Hell to pay and he would make sure of it

- he is not a fan of cooking but will do it to spoil his partner and would cook with them to spend a little extra time with them

-he is tease but not a heavily physical one he knows how to use each work to its full advantage and can get his partner dripping with just a few sentences

-will occasionally do small bets with his partner be it who wins in a sparring match or who can pick up the house faster.

NSFW

-he is a Dom without a fucking doubt

-enjoys seeing his partner tied or chained up and will sit infront of them just admiring them

-He doesn't think of himself as kinky but rather he is willing to try most things to bring his partner pleasure

-he does know he has a breeding kink especially if his partner was accepted by a virus. He will cum in his partner seventy-five percent of the time and the thought drives him feral

-prefers the master servant/ pet relationship side of bdsm. If his partner was in S.T.A.R.S. with him he would indulge in captain/ rookie play

-has a special choker or collar made for his partner for when he ties them up it's a sign of ownership and that his his alone

[she-walks-on-starlight]

Can u write some fluff and comfort for grayson.

i would appreciate it <3

Of course! Thanks for the request - ✨

Duty Bound

a/n: added in some hurt/comfort and a slight touch of angst for this one, it's just how the story came to me :) my requests are still open, send me your ideas I'd love to hear them 😊

Warnings: almost break-up, arguments, feelings of neglect

Summary: Grayson has been busy with work, and you're starting to feel tired of coming in second. When you deliver an ultimatum, will it make or break your relationship?

Word Count: 2k

“I think you are the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on, y/n, and I want to spend my days and my nights making you happy. I will do anything you ask, will take you anywhere you wish to go as long as I can come with you. Just please say you’ll be mine, and nothing could possibly make me any happier.”

A beautiful memory.

You sighed as you packaged the baked macaroni cheese into Tupperware containers and labelled them before putting them in the fridge, yet another dinner you’d eaten alone.

Your cat, Whiskers, wound himself around your legs and staring reproachfully at you with his wide, green eyes. Rolling your eyes, you filled his feeding dish and put it on the floor for him, earning a grateful squeak. You scratch just behind his ears, when you hear the lock turn in the front door and the heavy thud of your girlfriend’s work boots as she finally arrived home.

“I’m home, beloved! Oh, do I smell cheese?”

She appeared in the kitchen archway, her Enforcer jacket slung casually over her shoulder and her pristine white shirt unbuttoned to just above her cleavage. You fix her with faux annoyed stare.

“You do smell cheese…I’ve just put your dinner in the fridge.”

Grayson huffs, running her hands through her messy, silver streaked locks. “I’m so sorry, my love. There was a situation in the Undercity that required my attention.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “I suppose I’ll have to let you off then, won’t I? Sit down, I’ll warm up your dinner.”

She obeyed, sitting at your small table as you warmed the macaroni cheese and started a spinach omelette for her lunch the next day. Grayson started unlacing her boots, lightly smacking your ass whenever you passed her because she knew it made you blush. Whiskers however soon realised she was home and pawed at her laces until she lavished him with attention. She looked tired, and you knew she must’ve had a very busy shift. It seemed with every week she was the Chief Enforcer more lines carved their way into her handsome face.

“I swear, more and more Shimmer is being pumped into the Undercity and we still haven’t got a single idea on how, or who is behind it all. Every factory I shut down, two more pop up to replace it! Not to mention how many Enforcers I’m losing to those Shimmer crazed thugs! I’ve had to inform three more wives of their husbands’ deaths today! Three!”

You kiss her cheek and run your hands through her hair, massaging the nape of her neck to help her relax. “I think you need a break, Gray.”

She groaned with pleasure at your ministrations but scoffed at your words. “If I take a break, I think the entire station will collapse.”

You tried to remain bright, placing her meal in front of her and grinning as she dug in eagerly. “Well…maybe we can do something this weekend? Maybe go to that little vegan café we both like?”

“Sorry my love, I can’t. I volunteered to lead a seminar on firearm maintenance on Saturday, and the Council wants me to make an appearance at the charity gala on Sunday.”

“Oh, a gala! That could be fun, it’s been a while since we’ve gone to one, I’ll have to see if I can dig out one of my old dresses…”

Grayson swallowed, eyeing you apologetically. “About that…I’m sorry. I’d like nothing more than to have you on my arm, but as I’m there to represent the Enforcers, it wouldn’t please the Council.”

You try to keep your breathing even, turning back to the stove and flipping the spinach omelette carefully.

“So, I’m not going to see you this weekend at all?”

You hear the scraping of her chair and close your eyes to prevent tears from falling as strong, broad arms wrap around you and the scent of her fresh, citrus cologne fills your nose as she kisses your cheek and your neck, her short curls tickling your face.

“Please don’t be too upset, my love. I have a duty to the people of Piltover.”

You sighed, your entire body filling with leaden disappointment. You were so sick of this. “And what about your duty to me?”

Grayson pulls away from you, her mouth agape. “What do you mean?”

Your hands ball into fists. “This apartment is haunted by you, Gray! I’m only graced with the presence of your shadow!”

“My love, I-”

“You’re always working, and when you’re not at work, then you’re at the gym! It’s like you have no time for me anymore! You’d always rather be doing something, anything else, than spend time with me, your girlfriend!”

Grayson crossed her arms. “That’s not true. My work is very important, beloved. I cannot simply drop everything to indulge in personal leisure.”

“But your work doesn’t have to take over your entire life, Gray.”

Grayson’s eyes were like liquid steel, sharp and cold. “My work IS my life. I have spent years, decades getting to where I am now! I thought you understood that.”

Your chest felt tight, your whole body felt stiff, and a prickling heat was coating your skin. This was a losing battle. Grayson was a woman of honour, a paragon of justice and was bound to her duty. Serving and protecting the people of Piltover was her lifeblood. That would never change, perhaps could never change.

“Then I think I should stay with my sister for a while.”

Before Grayson could reply, you turned on your heel and headed into the bedroom, burying yourself under the duvet and letting your salty tears burn into your face.

The next day had gone by in a blur. Grayson hadn’t been in the apartment when you’d woken up, so you assumed she’d gone into work early. Weary from working so late, but pleased you were able to complete the wedding cake on time for that lovely couple, you stabbed your key at the rusty lock in your apartment door until it finally clicked open and allowed you entry.

The apartment was dark and silent, but you expected that. Grayson was either at her office or she was hitting the gym. Again. The satisfied high from working at your small bakery was ebbing away, leeched from you by the depression radiating from the walls that had once surrounded you with love and warmth. You were too melancholy to cook, so you order chilli oil noodles from your favourite takeout place and trudged into the bedroom.

Opening the wardrobe, you were greeted with several Chief Enforcer uniforms, all starched and ironed to perfection, the belts and buckles gleaming proudly in the dim lighting of the bedroom. You carefully pushed them aside, not wanting to crease them and reached for your jumpers hanging beside them. As you folded them, you tried to ignore the sharp aching of your heart which only intensified when you pushed Grayson’s uniforms back into place on the rail.

You were pushing her out of your life.

You growled internally at the intrusive thought. Grayson had pushed you away first, now you were just letting yourself fall from the impact. If this is what Grayson wanted, then she would reap what she had sown.

On the bed lay your frayed duffel bag, beaten up from the many camping trips you and Grayson took. Used to take. It was open, the soft material hanging apart like a mocking, laughing mouth. However, as you approached it to put the jumpers inside, there was a folded piece of paper that wasn’t there when you’d left for work. As you opened it, you gasped as you recognised Grayson’s efficient scrawl.

Giovanni’s. 7pm. Wear the red dress. Please come.

Your eyes widened. Giovanni’s, a small Italian restaurant where you’d had your first dinner date with Grayson. The red dress she mentioned had been the one she’d slowly peeled you out of that evening, the first time she’d ever touched you like that. It had been the perfect night. Your heart fluttered at the implications of the note. Did she want to recreate that night? Or was this the final goodbye? Glancing the clock, you quickly put on the dress she requested and touched up your makeup before dashing out of the door and hailing a cab.

When you arrived, the waiter smiled knowingly and led you to the private terrace which was lit with candles and fairy lights. There was only a single table, by which Grayson stood wearing a crisp, black dress shirt, matching trousers, and a red paisley tie exactly the shade of your dress. She pulled out your chair for you as you sat, somewhat dazed, and kissed your knuckles before taking her seat opposite you.

Her eyes were serious, her forehead creased with stress. “I came home at lunchtime. I wanted to surprise you, to apologise for my recent behaviour…but I forgot today was one of your workdays. Just another way I’m failing you as a partner, I suppose.”

You reached for her, entwining your slender fingers with her larger ones, the warmth of her hand travelling up your arm and into your chest. “Gray…I-”

“I saw the bag.” Her voice was a whisper, the dreadful confession staining her lips with sadness. “I realised then, that you meant it when you said you were leaving. You were absolutely right. To have driven you to this, it’s unforgivable.”

You can feel your own heart swell at her words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you take in your forlorn lover, such a great, upstanding woman reduced to despair, her eyes pleading and so very remorseful.

“Gray, I do understand-”

Grayson silenced you with a gentle finger to your lips. “Please, my love, I need to tell you. You are the sun that wakes me at dawn, you are the stars that watch over me at night. You are the beat in my heart, the reason I thrive. I love you more than anything I have ever even comprehended. To neglect you this way, is the greatest pain I could have ever inflicted upon myself. You are why I work so hard, so make sure you will always be safe and never have anything to fear. But you were right, I let it consume me. It almost cost me everything I hold dear.”

It's everything you’ve needed to hear, and it takes every shred of your emotional self-control not to burst into relieved sobs. “Gray, I love you. Your sense of honour and your need to fulfil your duty are all part of you, and I love you even more for having these qualities. I just want to be able to share my life with you and know that you’ll always want to come home to me, see me, be with me.”

Grayson leaned forward, cupping your cheek. “I want for nothing more. My soul sings when I am with you, and you alone, beloved.”

Then she kisses you, and it’s just like the first time all those years ago. She cups your face with her warm hands and wipes away any tears falling, her soft lips caressing yours with care and reverence, the two of you pouring your deep love for each other into a kiss that’s been a long time coming.  When you break apart, you’re sure you are blushing, and Grayson’s look of pure adoration warms you from the inside out. You eat a beautiful meal and as you stand from the table, Grayson ceremoniously gathers you in her arms, bridal style, making you squeal with surprise and delight.

“Hey! Gray! What are you doing?”

She nuzzles into your neck. “We are going home. I have a weekend of pampering to spoil you with.”

“But what about your weekend obligations?”

Grayson kisses you, tender and slow. “Marcus is leading the seminar on Saturday, and I’ve informed the Council that I will not attend the gala. They will likely not miss the Enforcer representation anyway. Now come, I have many plans for this evening and many of them involve much less clothing. Shall we?”

Sighing contentedly, you rest your head on her shoulder as she carries you away. “Let’s go home.”

[rafatello]

In a conversation ajaja I remembered my abandoned concepts for Truffula flu 1-72ler has a wound in his eyes and his weapon is a super axe hacker axe after it will stop working due to lack of maintenance. 2-Natia escaped along with him and is the only one with firearms and I thought about giving her a metal bat idk. 3-At some point they would meet the Lorax who would be devastated by not being able to do something for the animals and the three of them would be traveling together. I don't think I will resuscitate this version of the Au but I will share with you what was not.

[historyofguns]

In the article "Don’t Make This First-Time Gun Owner Mistake" by Mike Boyle, published on The Armory Life, the author emphasizes the importance of careful selection and preparation for first-time gun owners. Boyle outlines four critical areas, termed "The Priorities," which include mental preparation, understanding of basic tactics, practical marksmanship, and possessing the right gear. He advises that choosing the right gun involves considering its intended use—whether for home defense or concealed carry—as these factors influence the appropriate size and weight. Notably, the article discourages small, sub-caliber pocket pistols for self-defense due to their poor performance and suggests considering service cartridges like the 9mm for reliable results. Boyle also discusses different pistol types, such as striker-fired and double-action models, recommending that new users practice diligently regardless of their choice. He reinforces that proper training and selecting a comfortable, manageable firearm are paramount for personal safety and effectiveness.

[goliathindustries]

Firearm Maintenance: A Comprehensive Guide

Uncover key tips for maintaining your firearms, including proper cleaning, secure storage, and essential safety practices to keep your guns in prime shape.

[summerlinarmory]

Customizing your rifle with aftermarket parts and upgrades is more than just about aesthetics. It’s a practical and strategic approach to optimizing performance, functionality, and comfort tailored to your specific shooting needs. There are many options you can take to achieve that firearm gear that reflects who you are.

[lilliesofinspirationvalley]

Thoughts on Hollows and Ether Corruption

What We Know Canonically (So Far)

Almost anything can experience ether corruption when inside a hollow, whether a living being or inanimate object

Those with high ether aptitude can stay in Hollows for longer periods of time without worrying about being corrupted, while those with low aptitude have anti-ether equipment that can help protect them. Ether aptitude tests are common

Artificial intelligence (androids, bangboo, smart machines, etc) are vulnerable to corruption if they pass the Forbidden Fruit test— which we don’t have specifics on atm, but presumably marks when an AI has become fully sentient like a person. This corruption is likely referring to ethereal mutation rather than the crystals that form on inanimate objects. Or perhaps even both! Ouch.

People who have been in Hollows for “too long” are susceptible to cognitive corruption syndrome (CCS), which is essentially a dementia/alhzheimer’s-esque disease that causes memory regression

Inferences (and/or Assumptions)

Living beings (humans, thirens, sentient ai, etc) presumably have their corruption levels “reset”/scale back down after exiting a hollow. I’m taking it as a similar situation to blot in Twisted Wonderland, where accumulation naturally decreases with enough time outside the hollow, and can be sped up with proper health maintenance (eating, sleeping, etc).

Corruption only really becomes a concern based on if you can leave (hence why proxies and carrots are so important), and if you stay in the hollows for extended periods of time. I think the threshold for “too long” starts at about maybe 2-3 hours??? Most commissions, including story events, take nowhere near as long as that in real time, I’m sure. I think the longest we might’ve gotten was about 75-90 minutes with the Cunning Hares in the prologue.

That’s the case for those with high ether aptitudes though. Lower aptitudes will experience effects much faster. Red Fang Gang’s Miguel Silver had to have practically zero ether aptitude for his mutation to be so instant.

Coming into contact with ether as an element/material (crystals, Nicole and Zhu Yuan’s shots, etc) won’t immediately cause high corruption levels/mutation (it’s likely everything in the ZZZ verse has in-world increased durability, given players and enemies alike can take bullet shots, burns, freezing, electric shocks, etc without dire consequences). Ethereals are often the most affected by other ether attacks— like ghost or dragon type being super effective against itself from Pokemon

Ether-tipped blades and other melee weapons have got to be a thing (I already have some ocs with this in mind for their weapons), and I don’t think it’s inherently dangerous to get hit by/wield them. You just gotta keep them covered when not in use, and be mindful/intentional of where you hold them (as you already would be with blades of any kind). The material used for weaponry (melee and firearms alike) is probably diluted a significant amount compared to the original crystals?

When actually harvesting ether crystals and other material, it’s highly recommended (often required) to handle with as much caution and protection as possible. The main thing being proper containment and coverage like gloves and stuff.

If there are more gradual effects to Hollow exposure, it’s likely not well known at the time of ZZZ’s main story. CCS could potentially be such, but it’s probably more susceptible if someone stays in hollows for about/longer than 2-3 hours in a single period of time.

Rapidly entering/exiting a hollow back and forth doesn’t count as a “reset”

Inanimate objects, overall, have significantly higher resistance against corruption. Specific levels can vary depending on material rates of corrosion/erosion/decay, quality and handling of the item, how deep it’s located in the hollow, etc. Time-space warping could also be a potential factor, but it’s probably difficult to test logistics for that.

As a general rule of thumb, buildings and infrastructure are usually the most durable things within a hollow. If you stay inside a building within the hollow (such as the Ballet Towers in Ch 3), you can stay inside for much longer (the threshold increasing up to 5-6 or even 7-8 hours, hence why Victoria Housekeeping could do their maintenance checks in the Ballet Towers without endangering themselves). Of course, if ethereals are able to access the building, that will naturally cause interior and/or exterior corruption mainly if hit with ether itself)

Understandably, artificial intelligence has far more resistance to (physical) corruption than organic beings, given they often house mechanical bodies. Though mental capabilities are still vulnerable from potential damage to processing units and such. But that takes about the same threshold as organic beings (~ 2-3 hours outside, 5-8 hours inside).

Unknown (As of Now)

Corruption effects on vegetation (plants/fungus), along with non-sentient animals and/or robotics.