bomb gun!

‘only pack the necessities’ they said. ‘what’s all this? you cant take weapons on the plane, bucky’ they said. so now i just have this big suitcase with only a toothbrush inside it
some things i admit i have said out loud in public in finnish in foreign countries because i was overwhelmed by the liberating feeling of being 99% sure that nobody can understand me
  • “walk faster you idiots”
  • “that man looks like he listens to maroon 5 and has no opinions”
  • “why would she buy that disgusting crap bread”
  • “sweden sucks”
  • “you know i havent shat in 3 days”
  • (next to a police officer) “hey i am a dangerous criminal with guns and bombs arrest me”
  • *bunch of finnish profanities for no reason*
  • “do you think she realizes i am drunk” 
  • “i want to steal his phone”
  • “please don’t sit next to me please don’t sit next to me pleas– oh crap”
  • “did you notice that man next to you eats his own snot”
  • “hey don’t look at that woman on your right and let’s pretend we are talking about something very important and completely unrelated but do you think she looks like our old math teacher”
  • “i cant believe he is really wearing crocs”
  • “why are all these clothes in this store so ugly”
  • “how do we get rid of this person”
  • “i am sure everybody in this bus can smell that i haven’t showered in 4 days”

On Off Topic Gavin talks about doing a shot with gold flakes in it, and RL Gavin is of course like listen to this utterly ridiculous thing i did, but FAHC Gavin would just be like yes. This is the acceptable way to consume liquor, from now on only this.

FAHC Gavin who carries his own real gold flakes, sprinkles them into anything from obscenely expensive cocktails to $4 rotgut with equal enthusiasm. It’s a quirk the rest of the crew don’t even blink at anymore but it has the other patrons of whatever dive bar they’ve ended up in watching on with fascinated disgust. Has any unfortunate enough not to know who they are looking at turning up face down in a gutter come dawn, greed pulling them in like moths; ignorantly mistaking Gavin for pretty flame rather than raging inferno.

When Los Santos’ finest manage to grab a Fake they’d pin them with any infraction they can manage, desperately trying to make anything stick in an attempt to finally reclaim the city. When frisking Free reveals a handful of little black baggies they think they’ve finally got him for something, concrete evidence he can’t possibly wiggle his way out of, until of course the bags reveal not white powder but fine gold leaf. It’s as unexpectedly absurd as it is devastating, a blow made no easier by the smug amusement radiating off Gavin, lounging in the harsh metal chair like it’s a throne, golden from his hair to his accessories to the flecks still on those sharp white teeth.


Pierce ‘Whaler’s Shoulder’ bomb lance launcher

Manufactured by Eben Pierce in New Bedford, Massachusets for the 1883 International Fisheries Exhibition in London, then donated to the Smithsonian because that’s the kind of shit they’re into apparently.
1″ Pierce bomb lance - an explosive harpoon with a percussion fuse, single shot break action, all gunmetal with fixed skeleton stock.

While researching these strange whaling guns I came to realize just how fucked up the human mind needs to get to catch huge fish-like things. For instance did you know harpoon blades switched inside their target for maximum grappling ability ? I certainly didn’t.

Whaling before bronze grenade launchers happened for some reason.

anonymous asked:

Alright but what if more sneaky manipulative Gavin?

  • Jeremy makes Gavin a coffee most mornings, on autopilot, without thought. Jeremy doesn’t even drink coffee, and it’s not like no one else benefits from the pot but it is absolutely always made to Gavin’s preference and no matter how hard he tries Jeremy can’t fathom how that started, or quite manage to break the habit; not when Gavin is always so overtly pleased by his offered mug.

  • Geoff sends Gavin off to sort some things out with Burnie when he’s pissed off, when Burnie swears he’s coming down hard on them this time friends or no, at least until Gavin starts getting choked up and Burnie knows - he knows - Gavin doesn’t cry, he just doesn’t do it, these are crocodile tears if ever he’s seen them but still, without fail, all it takes is a little upset hitch in his breath, the slightest wobble in his voice, and Burnie just crumbles ‘Fucking christ Gav, shit, it’s fine don’t worry, i’ll get it sorted alright? It’s fine, just come look at this nice diamond Barb brought me ok?’

  • Jack is honestly delighted with Gavin’s ability to talk people in and out of things without them realising what he’s doing, verbal wizardry few properly appreciate. If one of the others notes Gavin lazily trying to prod them in a certain direction their responses tend to be either outright annoyance or exasperated acceptance that it’s easier to just give in. Jack though, she’s generally just kind of disappointed. She knows Gavin can do better than that. In return, while Gavin normally arranges people to best suit his own interests, or the interests of the crew, he generally only messes with Jack to entertain her, flashy and outlandish to best display his talents. When it comes to the big reveal, the moment she realises she’s been had, he’ll turn to her with the biggest grin, eager and hopeful and expectant, like a little kid presenting a shiny new finger painting. 

  • Gavin bets Jeremy $100 that he can’t steal the gaudy ring he spots an important contact wearing during one of his meetings. Gavin might be the resident thief but Jeremy’s not bad at all thank you very much, he gets his hands on it before the day is over and presents it to Gavin with a flourish, expecting amazement and the satisfaction of winning the bet. He doesn’t expect Gavin to merely smile and pass over the cash before walking off, skip in his step as he slips on the near priceless jewellery Geoff made him swear he wouldn’t pinch after catching him eyeing it up. 

  • The FAHC have a full blown feud with a gang out near Liberty City. They can’t actually do anything about it, the gang is allied with Burnie so they are both completely off limits to each other but the passive aggressive (and covert aggressive aggressive) interactions are off the chart, and being forced to work together is the ultimate hell for everyone involved. The cold war has been going for so long, with so many little infractions drawn out over the years, that no one really remembers how it started, and every now and then Burnie has a go at Geoff about letting it go. While somewhat reluctant to put aside his own simmering anger Geoff has to admit it would be more efficient to let bygones be bygones, and deep resentment or not it shouldn’t be difficult; smoothing ruffled feathers is right up the alley of their resident deal maker after all, but regardless of who brings it up Gavin outright refuses. Which is how they all begin to remember that it was Gavin’s anger that started this in the first place, some altercation leading to furious dislike which has somehow spread to encapsulate them all. 

  • Gavin goading Michael into fighting for him is old hat at this point, they’ve all seen it a million times, Gavin plays it up and Michael knows full well whats happening and still plays along, so no one feels the slightest bit of sympathy for him. With Ryan it’s far more dangerous. Insidious. It’s quiet conversations and incidental revelations, no notable persuasion and just enough information to push Ryan into action. When Gavin wants Ryan to play muscle for his entertainment, boisterous and overly dramatic in his demands for assistance, Ryan is just as likely to leave him hanging as he is to leap into the fray, if only to make a point. But when it is, instead, the mercenary he’s after; when Gavin whispers loaded suggestions, dark and violent and utterly machiavellian, the Vagabond will go to war for him, a nightmare decked in blood and gold. 

“The wolf is you, it represents your worst fears. It comes knocking on your door and it’s like uh, it’s like a reckoning.” - Beyond


Eggers 1878 Patent whaling gun

Manufactured by Selmar Eggers c.1878 in New Bedford, Massachusets - serial number 198.
1″ Pierce bomb lance propelled by a blank rifle cartridge, single shot falling block, gunmetal everything.

You might be thinking hey neat harpoon gun, but that would be underestimating that more refined age when people looked at a whale and went “I want to blow up that smug motherfucker to hell”.
And they did.

By gosh, they did.

A lot of people’s reactions to the idea of animals having a significant amount of power - from crows being intelligent to there being significantly larger versions of modern day animals in the prehistoric past - is terror, and I think that paints a pretty dismal portrait of us as rulers of the planet.  We see other creatures being closer to balancing the playing field as a source of horror. Not fully, mind you - crows can’t build bombs after all, not could megalodons study astrophysics - but closer.  And while I get the basic instinctual reason for that kind of thinking, I still feel it’s pretty repulsive mindset.

Which may be why I delight in the fantasy of there being giant, unkillable animals capable of making our guns and bombs look like tinker toys.

eric harris: i hate everybody, natural selection, kill mankind, everybody should fucking die, death, guns, pipe bombs

also eric harris: if you be mean to animals i will fukcinf hur t you

Happy Halloween everyone!
I wish you a ton of candy and a great time with your friends and/or your family!
Just be careful to don’t knock at the Joker’s door, he will give you more than candy (gun or bombs! Haha!).

I said I was going to draw a nightmare before christmas… And I (in a certain way) did! Arn’t the Joker and Harley great in their Jack and Sally’s costume? (He colored his hair in white just for the occasion)

Anyway Happy Halloween :D