#decock

[rearte2]

Gilbert Decock - Kalevala, 1991

[europeansculpture]

Gilbert Decock (1928-2007) - Stèle, 1993

[arthuntblog]

Gilbert Decock [Belgium] (1928-2007) ~ ‘Composition’, 1969. Print on paper (72 x 56 cm).

[yama-bato]

Gilbert Decock (1928 - 2007)

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

To Know This Will Conquer Me

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Saviors Arc

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and Gore; panic attack; PTSD; extreme violence

A/N: I’m still on hiatus but I needed to vent. I choose to do that through writing most of the time.

*gif is not mine

He wasn’t stopping. He didn’t want to stop. The Savior wasn’t fighting back, hadn't been since several punches ago. He began begging for his life instead. He knew Daryl was going to kill him. 

“Daryl, stop!”

Rick’s hands were on him, grabbing his shoulders. He shrugged him off. They wrapped around his middle, managing to pull him just above where he had straddled the other man. Daryl grabbed one of the deputy’s fingers and pulled until he felt a pop, heard the shout, and the hold fell away. 

“Please, I’m—I’m sorry—” The Savior begged as Daryl descended on him once more, picking up exactly where he left off. Blood splattered, covering the archer’s knuckles. Bones crunched, giving way and shattering. 

The hammer of Rick’s pistol cocked just behind his head, but Daryl still didn’t stop. He could only see red and he was willing to drown in it. 

“Brother, I need you to stop.”

“Then shoot me.” The archer hissed. The Savior was dead, face caved and throat crushed. Still, Daryl continued. He wouldn’t be satisfied until the man without a name was nothing but a bloody smear beneath him. 

“Daryl.”

He paused, panting and trembling, but he didn’t turn toward your voice. Fist drawing back again, he couldn’t follow through, your small hand wrapping around his bicep. 

“It’s okay.” You soothed, kneeling down on his right. “It’s okay.”

“It ain’t okay!” Daryl roared without looking away from the mess he’d made. “Ain’t never gonna be okay!” He felt more than heard Rick stepping back, the quiet sound of the gun being decocked. 

“It will. You just need time.” You risked bringing a hand toward his face but he jerked away. 

“Don’t.”

“You won’t hurt me, Daryl.” He didn’t move when you continued, brushing back his hair in a gentle gesture he didn’t feel he deserved. “Come home with me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Ya ain’t safe with me.” Daryl was trembling, his breaths coming too fast. The room was shrinking. He was hot. No, he was freezing. “M’a animal. They turned me into a animal.”

“No. They didn’t. I’m safer with you than I am behind any walls or within any army.” Your arm draped around his shoulder and you stood, relieved when he followed. “At least come away from there. You don’t need to keep seeing that.”

“I do. S’the only thing that makes it stop.”

“Makes what stop, baby?” You led him away from the massacre, the men he had torn apart by weapon and hand; away from your friends who watched the scene helplessly. 

“I need to kill ‘em. Need to make ‘em bleed. It takes—it takes the fear away, the dark.” He didn’t seem to realize his hand was on your chest, palm pressed over your heart. The action was leveling out his breathing. 

“You’re out now. You’re safe.”

“Am I? S’whatcha said when I’d dream of ya while I was there.” He pulled away his hand and wiped angrily at his face. “Are ya even really here?”

“Oh, Daryl. Will you trust me to come closer?” He swallowed hard and nodded. When you moved, it was the smallest of distances. “Do you trust me that I won’t hurt you?” Another nod. “May I hug you?” 

Daryl froze, his body rigid and trembling, back pushed against the wall as far as he could manage. You waited him out until he slumped with a sob and a nod. Your arms were slow to wind around his shoulders, one hand rubbing his back while the other cradled his head. 

“It’s okay, Daryl. It’s okay.” When he finally returned the embrace, he was clinging to you like a lifeline, sobbing openly without memory that others were there. “When you’re ready to move, I’ll take you home. Just me and you.” You whispered, rocking him gently. “You’ll get through this and you won’t need to do it alone.”

[official-penis-posts]

im backkk (he’s certainly a “fun guy” ahahaha)

Official DeCock Is An Extant Form Of Life Post

[andreisvechnikov]

Hurricanes’ Seth Jarvis leans into status as an honorary Harvard grad

By: Luke Decock, April 24, 2024

When Tripp Tracy was asked to speak at a meeting of the Harvard Club of the Research Triangle last week, he naturally invited the Carolina Hurricanes’ two other Harvard Men to join him. Jack Drury, owner of a Harvard diploma, class of 2023. Seth Jarvis, owner of a “Harvard Alumni” T-shirt, class of not quite veritas.

Neither Drury nor Jarvis could attend because of the team’s pre-playoff dinner gathering, but Jarvis was nevertheless welcome despite his self-proclaimed “Grade 6” education, because if there’s one thing that’s true about the Hurricanes’ third-year forward above all else, it’s that if you try to make him the butt of a joke, even a heartfelt, good-natured one, he’ll find a way to turn it back around on you.

When Drury returned from his Cambridge graduation last summer with the crimson T-shirt as a gift for Jarvis, he never expected Jarvis to cut off the sleeves.

He never expected Jarvis to make it his undershirt and wear it under his shoulder pads every single day of the season. For every practice. Every game. Every postgame interview.

“I thought, there’s no better way to put it to use than cut it into a tank top and wear it under my gear,” Jarvis said.

Seth Jarvis. Harvard alum. The shirt says so.

“There have been a few people who have seriously asked me if I went to Harvard,” Jarvis said, “and they’ve obviously never had a conversation with me.”

The Hurricanes have always had a strong connection to Harvard, through Tracy and his youth teammate and future front-office executive Jason Karmanos, through players like Craig MacDonald and Craig Adams.

They’ve had players from the rest of the hockey-playing Ivy League schools as well, other than Brown: Jeff Hamilton (Yale), Kevin Westgarth (Princeton), Lee Stempniak (Dartmouth), Riley Nash (Cornell). Now Drury. And, apparently, Jarvis.

“I think it’s been awesome,” Tracy said. “I would have liked to have had him on the roster.”

Even within the hockey world, it’s hard to imagine two teammates as different as the goofy Manitoban and the cosmopolitan Harvard grad becoming so close. Jarvis left home at 14 to play junior hockey in the Western Hockey League and was in the NHL by age 18.

Drury, scion of a prominent hockey family, spent two years at Harvard and another year overseas in Sweden; even though Drury is two years older than Jarvis, Jarvis has played more than 100 more NHL games than Drury.

The two are akin to brothers as much as they are friends or teammates, so when Drury gave Jarvis the shirt, it was with the best of intentions. Still, give Jarvis an inch or two, he’ll take all 200 feet, same in the dressing room as on the rink.

“I got it for him hoping he would wear it,” Drury said. “Using it as the undershirt, I love that. I didn’t know he’d do that. Once he started to do it, I thought it was awesome. He’s a character. But you couldn’t have a better guy around the room.”

Every single day, the shirt goes into his laundry bag to be laundered with the rest of the team’s base layers, an old-school throwback amid the sweat-wicking, high-tech gear.

By now, seven months into the season, as the Hurricanes head north for Thursday’s Game 3 against the New York Islanders with a 2-0 lead in their first-round series, the T-shirt should probably be in tatters. It looks just fine. Other than the missing sleeves.

“It’s hung on,” Jarvis said. “It’s high quality. Only the best at Harvard.”

At the end of the regular season, when Jarvis sat in on the Bally Sports broadcast with Tracy and Mike Mansicalco while sitting out Game 82, he told Tracy he would have liked to major in “micro-macro engineering” at Harvard, which sounds like a typical Jarvis malaprop, mishmashing economics and engineering. But it also could very well be somebody’s bespoke “special concentration” in Harvard’s engineering school, studying “theories of engineering principles” or the “interactions between microscopic innovation and large system models.”

Jarvis, with his elite hockey IQ and even quicker wit, may be more evidence that you don’t have to be book smart to be smart. He plays up the dopey-goofball angle because it gets laughs — “There’s still a lot of stupidity going on throughout my day,” Jarvis said — and won the Josef Vasicek Award this season for his quotability, but he’s the son of two educators, and there’s a spark that animates both his personality and his game, burning bright under all the self-deprecating humor.

“He plays a little dumb, but he’s pretty smart actually,” Martin Necas said. “I’m positive. He’s pretty smart. He just makes himself look like it on purpose, sometimes.”

Watching his game grow over the past two seasons, as he spent last year becoming a two-way player and this season reaping the rewards, it’s fair to wonder what would happen if he applied himself in the classroom as he has to his hockey career. Who knows what might be possible.

“It’s never too late,” Drury said. “He plays it up a little bit but he’s smarter than people realize. He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

And the T-shirt over his shoulders to sort-of prove it.

[5ummit]

Rumlow & Bucky threatening people with a custom SIG Sauer P226 SCT

At first glance Bucky's gun in TFATWS may not look particularly special or appear to have any narrative significance, but I’m here to tell you that’s almost certainly not the case, whether intentional or not.

I already thought the parallel was fascinating when I first noticed these guns looked similar, but the deeper I dug the more compelling the story got. They aren’t just similar, they’re the exact same gun. Which ordinarily wouldn't be that all that special either, since many people use the same type of gun, but this isn’t some generic off-the-shelf model. In fact, I now think this custom P226 SCT is so unique as to be intrinsically linked to Rumlow, and I’m going to make the case that its reappearance in TFATWS is so remarkable that the gun (and therefore likely Rumlow himself) must hold some sort of significance for Bucky.

Buckle up, I’m about to overanalyze the shit out of this gun.

First, let’s look at the facts:

Out of the dozens of guns seen and used in CATWS, the only person to use a P226 is Rumlow. Even after he loses his customized SCT in the scene above, he's seen with another standard P226 in the next scene, which suggests he heavily favors this model. Side note: Knowing this, my new headcanon is that Rumlow is a former Navy SEAL since P226′s are famous for being beloved and carried by SEALs. Plus, everything we know about him lines up perfectly with that background.

Excluding the Winter Soldier’s P220, no one else in CATWS is seen carrying any SIG handgun model. All other SHIELD and HYDRA agents pretty much exclusively use Glocks, which further confirms this custom P226 SCT is undoubtably meant to be Rumlow’s personal handgun (he’s also seen with this same gun in the scene where they’re hunting Steve down at the mall).

Out of the dozens of guns seen and used in TFATWS, the only person to use a P226 is Bucky. Yet again, no one else in the show carries any SIG handgun model with Glocks by far the most common.

This is the only gun Bucky uses in the entire show. The only other gun Bucky even briefly holds is the submachine gun he takes from one of Selby's goons before dropping it seconds later. Additionally, the fact that Bucky has this gun in two completely different scenes, set days apart in different locations, confirms this isn’t just some random gun he borrowed temporarily in Madripoor, but his own personal gun that he purposefully chooses to carry.

Not only are Rumlow and Bucky’s guns the same basic model, they’re specifically the Super Capacity Tactical (SCT) variant, which is already fairly uncommon, but on top of that and more importantly both guns appear to have the same very specific, very unique customizations to the point where I’m almost certain it’s the exact same prop. While the standard P226 SCT is pure black, multiple parts on both of these guns (hammer, takedown lever, magazine release, decocker, etc) have a silvery finish instead, which you may be able to see a bit more clearly here and here. Some of the parts are reminiscent of the Equinox version of the P226, but it’s not a perfect match and notably the SCT doesn’t seem to have ever been made in an Equinox variation anyway. The most interesting features to me though are the bare-metal front and rear cocking serrations, which again are reminiscent of the Equinox except the rest of the slide is still all black. In all of my research that’s not something I’ve been able to find on any other P226 and is not just a part you could potentially buy and swap out. To achieve that look the slide would have to be very deliberately hand-sanded or machined. This detail, combined with the other custom parts, undoubtably makes this gun one-of-a-kind.

Now some may try to argue that if we look at other Marvel movies we might find that this particular prop has been reused before and this gun is not as unique in-universe as it might seem. Don’t worry, I’ve looked into this too. At least according to IMFDB’s current records, not a single P226 SCT, much less one with these customizations, has ever been identified in another Marvel property. Rumlow’s gun in CATWS and Bucky’s gun in TFATWS are the only instances this gun, or anything like it, has shown up.

Maybe the reappearance of this gun was just meant to be a cool Easter egg for eagle-eyed gun enthusiasts. Maybe it’s meant to be something more. I don’t know and I honestly don’t care. Because here’s the thing, regardless of what was originally intended (death of the author and all that), the facts remain and they paint an undeniably compelling picture of something that has actual narrative weight.

Whatever Doylist reasons this gun may’ve been chosen for Bucky out of the dozens, if not hundreds, of potential options, if we just look at the facts and try to make sense of them in-universe one thing is clear: there’s no way Rumlow and Bucky would both have this exact gun by pure coincidence. It’s not standard issue for SHIELD or HYDRA and it’s not some run-of-the-mill, off-the-shelf weapon Bucky could’ve easily picked up somewhere on a whim. He made a deliberate choice to acquire and carry this gun. And given this custom P226’s extreme uniqueness paired with Rumlow and Bucky’s likely history, there are really only two possible scenarios that I can see:

Bucky sought out and somehow recovered Rumlow’s gun from the wreckage of the Triskelion at some point, making it quite literally the exact same gun.

Bucky tracked down the same already uncommon model and specifically customized it to match Rumlow’s favorite gun (which he would’ve had to have been very familiar with to get all of the details just right).

Either option is intriguing, to say the least. It certainly brings up more questions than answers, namely: What is the significance of Rumlow and/or his gun to Bucky/the Winter Soldier, and why does Bucky care about it so much that he took the considerable time and effort to either recover the original or recreate an exact copy?

[Disclaimer: By no means am I a gun expert, but I did try to be thorough in my research. A lot of my conclusions are based on info pulled from IMFDB, though not all of it. While IMFDB isn’t perfect, as it’s just a publicly run database and not an official source, I’ve found it to be quite comprehensive when it comes to popular shows and movies and its contributors are generally very skilled at identifying weapons. However, if any gun experts think I’ve made a significant error, let me know!]

[stevenfics]

I can’t be what you need

Dean and Sam Winchester

Word count; 872

Warnings; light whump, hurt/little to no comfort, descriptions of blood, descriptions of wounds, dead character mentioned, demon blood addiction referenced.

Summary; after a specially rough few weeks, Dean finds Sam curled up in their motel bathroom, sobbing.

Notes; it’s 1am and it isn’t edited lol, I had to get it out of my system. Also first published fanfic so be nice augh I’m terrified.

“Sammy!”

Dean called out as soon as he walked into the motel room. He was carrying two large fast food bags, and had managed to open the door with one of his feet. He placed the bags on the table, then opened one of them and pulled out a burger, which he quickly started eating.

“Sammy?” He called out again, this time with his mouth full. When Sam still didn’t respond, Deans hand slowly crept down to the handgun in his pants, quietly cocking it and keeping one finger on the trigger as he went around the room.

“Sam?!”

He ripped open the closet door and pointed the gun at the empty space. He was more confused than anything else; there were no signs of demons, and they hadn’t even started looking into a new case. Soon, though, he could hear a faint sobbing coming from the bathroom. Dean placed his burger on the table and quickly made his way to the bathroom, pulling the door open and wildly pointing his gun around. However, there was nobody to shoot at.

Sam was slumped against the tiled wall in the shower, covered in blood. A kitchen knife lay beside him, and deep gashes ran along both of his underarms. His hands were trembling. The lower half of his face was covered in dark red, getting mixed with the tears as he stared blankly at the cuts on his arms. Dean decocked his gun and threw it into the living room, rushing down towards Sam.

“Who did this to you?! I swear to god I’ll murder that son of a bitch,” he muttered while quickly gathering the nearest clean towels. He wrapped them around his brothers underarms and, to the best of his ability, applied pressure to both of them.

“I- I just- I thought maybe I could-“ Sam stuttered in between sobs and sniffles.

“What, you did this?!”

“Dean, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I just thought I could- that I- everything has been going wrong and I just needed- I’m really sorry, I’m sorry.”

Dean stared at his bloodshot eyes, then glanced at the knife. He swiftly kicked it away with his foot. Sam buried his face in the towels.

“Hey, hey, Sam, Sammy look at me, look,” he said, gently grabbing his face and forcing their eyes to meet, “you’ll be just fine, Sammy, I promise, we’ll patch you right up.”

His voice quavered and his eyes were watering, but he tried to keep it together. Sam didn’t need more to worry about. They couldn’t keep this going for much longer, he was going to bleed out if they didn’t somehow close the wounds.

“Cas, I need you to get your feathery ass down here,” he hissed. His gaze left Sam’s as he instead looked up at the motel ceiling.

“I need you to fix him, I need you to fix Sam, I can’t do it quickly enough.”

He felt a pressure on his hands and looked back down, where his brother had slumped forward.

“No no no, Sam, you’re not supposed to go like this.”

He grabbed his head and held it up, gently patting his cheeks.

“Rise and shine, come on, I know you’re tired, Sammy, but Cas is on the way, I promise.” He felt the burning as the tears began to stream down his face. Sam’s eyes opened slightly.

“Jess,” he mumbled, wearily shaking his head, “I want Jess, could you- Dean, where is she? Can you get her?”

Dean felt the colour drain from his face. He quickly nodded.

“Of course, Sammy, she’ll be right here, just stay awake.”

He sniffled, then coughed to try and cover it up.

“Damn it, Cas, where are you?”

“Dean.”

The monotone voice of the angel was like music to his ears.

“Jesus, what took you so long?!”

He stood up and pointed down at the blood covered Sam on the floor.

“Use your angel mojo and fix him!”

Cas’ crystal blue eyes met his before he bowed down and unwrapped the now soaked towels around Sam’s arms. Dean looked away when the familiar bright light emerged from the wounds, something he’d seen too often when Cas had healed them in the past. He felt useless, completely and utterly useless.

“He lost a lot of blood,” Cas finally said as he stood back up, again looking at Dean.

“What, you think I’m blind?! You think I can’t see that?!” He gestured wildly at the big pool of blood they were standing in.

“Help him into bed. Let him rest. I will clean this up,” was all Cas responded with. Dean took a deep, shaky breath, then pulled up his brother and dragged him to the nearest motel bed.

“Jess?” He mumbled when his head finally met the pillow.

“Uhm…”

Dean had no idea what to say. The tears were still streaming down his face. He carefully moved Sam over and crawled into the bed with him.

“She’ll be right here, Sammy. But I’m here for now.”

Sam sighed and turned over, leaving Dean to face his back. Dean moved up into the bed a little and started caressing Sam’s head.

“She’ll be here in a minute, I promise Sammy. I promise.”

[gunzlotzofgunz]

FEG P9R

FEG MODEL P9R PISTOL WITH IS SIMILAR TO A BROWNING HIGH POWER WITH FEASTURES FROM A S&W MODEL 59. THE SLIDE HAS A DROP SAFETY/DECOCKER AND THE TRIGGER IS DA/SA.

[cannieclownery]

I think every Hancock ship should end with -cock because I think it's funny. Dacock. Codcock. Decock.

[teaforqne]

art decock

[riflebrass]

My buddy I was shooting with yesterday always wants to make it a competition to see who is the better shooter. There's a considerable skill gap between us so he gets destroyed every single time. I like to give myself some kind of handicap like shooting further away but he always wants us on equal terms so he can beat me fair and square.

So one little contest was to shoot his Beretta one-handed. To add to the challenge I suggested we shoot it double-action-only meaning you have to decock the hammer between shots.

We set up at 10, 15, and 22 yards 3 shots each time. I got 2/3 hits each time and he didn't hit shit.

Afterwards he was determined to use the rest of the mag to try and make the 22 yard hit. I coached him through it telling him to slow down his trigger pull and watch for the sights to move while he was pulling. On the last round he hit the steel and I cheered him on for it. I was probably more excited for him than he was.

Iron sharpens iron and all that. We need to build each other up. I spent my first 4 years of regular shooting just shooting trash in the woods and making noise. It's taken 7 years of genuine effort to build a skill and a few thousand rounds of ammo to get where I'm at today. He shoots very seldomly so I don't expect him to keep up with me. I just want him to be better than he was a year ago.

[arthuntblog]

Gilbert Decock [Belgium] (1928-2007) ~ ‘Untitled’, 1989. Etching, on vellum (65 x 54.5 cm).

[yama-bato]

Gilbert Decock (1928-2007) - Celano, 1970

“... Gilbert Decock (1928-2007), one of the prominent figures within Belgian post-war geometric abstraction and winner of the European Prize for Painting in 1966. With a very limited number of basic geometric forms, Gilbert Decock created an unusually rich and varied oeuvre over the course of forty-five years. Central to his work are circle and square, where the circle represented infinity (the divine) and the square the boundary (the earthly). He was one of the most outspoken defenders of pure hard abstraction in Belgium. “ (https://antwerpart.be/agenda/gilbert-decock)

[jackexmachina]

That wasn’t mercy. That’s the worst thing I could’ve done to him. And what I’m gonna do to you, Sammy... Well, that ain’t gonna be mercy either.

image description: scenes from “Reichenbach,” “The Prisoner,” “Brother’s Keeper,” “Form and Void,” “The Vessel,” “Moriah,” and “Gimme Shelter.”

10x02 (1): Sam is driving Demon!Dean back to the bunker in the Impala. Sam says, “You took mercy on him.” Dean smiles from the backseat, saying, “You call that mercy?”

10x22: Dean is kneels over Castiel on the floor, after beating him savagely. Castiel chokes, and blood spills a little from his mouth, and his hand loosely grips Dean’s left forearm. Dean is also bloody, and he stabs an angel blade hard next to Castiel’s head.

11x14: Castiel gets Sam’s attention frantically, holding Lucifer back in their vessel, saying, “Sam, it’s me.” Sam looks up, surprised, and asks through a groan, “Cas... why?” Castiel tells him, “I wanted to be of service to the fight.” 

10x23: Sam kneels in front of Dean, his face beaten. He closes his eyes quickly as Dean moves to reap him with Death’s blade, but then Dean swings to kill Death instead, who looks somewhat surprised.

11x02: Sam sits in the chapel of a hospital, face still bruised and cut, with black veins creeping up his neck. He prays, “Please... Dean deserves better. Dean deserves a life.”

14x20: Jack kneels in front of Dean in a bright cemetery. Dean decocks the Equalizer, then he throws the gun aside onto the ground.

15x15: Castiel is driving back to the bunker with Jack. After Jack tells him he’s going to die. He tells Castiel, “This is the only way they’ll ever forgive me.”

10x02 (2) Sam listens to Dean from the backseat. Dean explains, “That wasn’t mercy. That’s the worst thing I could’ve done to him.” Dean blinks slowly and smiles a little.