The question was about unarmoured combat (spoiler: the bowie knife is preferable), but the video also explains how different medieval daggers were used against different types of armour, which is nice.
The rondel dagger and the bollock knife had typically a thick, strong blade (single or double-edged, sometimes triangular
foreshadowing the stiletto), and were thrusting weapons that could piece chainmail with no problem - as long as you put enough force. Piercing a gambeson was even easier. You could also stab between the joints of plate armour. Slashing at an armoured opponent wasn’t useful, and this blade didn’t excel in slashing anyway, but in very close quarters (wrestling on the floor, basically…) the edge could be used to cut the armour’s straps, and then you could go on stabbing through the gap you just made. The misericorde, or (daga) misericordia, famous for putting unhorsed knights out of their misery with a mercy stroke, was basically a poetic way to refer to a rondel or stiletto.
14th - 15th century rondel dagger
15th century bollock knife
The blade of a baselard or cinquedea is wider and usually less thick, but it’s still strong and has a double edge, so these daggers can be used both for thrusting and cutting. It’s still possible, if not ideal, to pierce armour with them, on the other hand they are better against unarmoured opponents (where a strictly thrusting weapon would be less deadly), and for versatility/defence.
Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Angst, Violence Against the Reader, Swearing, Bigotry
Summary: After a hunt goes awry, Dean and the reader spend the night together, but was it all a mistake?
A/N: This is my first A/B/O fic, written for @dr-dean‘s A/B/O Challenge (Happy Birthday!!). I’ve always wanted to write one of these, so thank you so much for breaking me out of my shell. And thank you @notnaturalanahi, for getting me out of my funk and inspired to write this, not to mention betaing it for me. The prompt was November Rain by Guns n’Roses (one of my favorite songs, by my favorite band.) Written using @kittenofdoomage‘s A/B/O Rules. It got a little too long, so I’m splitting it up into two parts.
The day you met Dean Winchester you knew he belonged to you.
It wasn’t the earth shattering electricity you’d heard True Bonds conveyed when mates touched. It was in a smile, in a glance, in the warm, comforting knowledge that he was yours. Just for you.
Since then, loving him had been as easy as breathing, but being with him was considerably harder. If Dean had felt the call, he never showed it. He worked beside you, treated you like family, but never made an advance. And that was the true challenge of your situation, and the true burden of being an unmated Omega.
“I’ll have you know, I’m great company to most people,” Dean said, shaking you out of your thoughts.
Summary: You were the typical girl with big dreams who moved to the city as soon as she had the chance, and somehow ended up in the wrong part of town - but you manage to get swept up in an entirely different situation than you’d planned. (1 / 2/3/ 4 /5) Scenario: mafia!AU/hacker!AU Word Count: 4,766
I’ve got a fever, and the only prescription is more fighters. #knife #knives #knifemaker #knifemaking #knifeporn #bowie #fighter #sheath #sheathmaking #leathercraft #woodworking #metalarts #handcrafted
only 20% of people will reblog. this is old seamus mcflew. his brother Martin used to let men provoke him into fightin. he was concerned people would think him a coward if he refused. that’s how he got a bowie knife shoved through his belly at a saloon in Virginia City. never considered the future, poor Martin, God rest his soul.
Working the curves and minding my flats. One side is at 600 and one is at 200 so they don’t quite look symmetrical just yet. I’m put that swirl resin where I wanted the flats to end, I’m glad it’s working out, that facet sure helps capture light. The Lorne Green pandora station really helps set the mood for doing wild west blades. Y'all remember “Hey Dude”? That’s my favorite western. #yeehaw #bowie #fighter #dailygrind #woodworking #thuya #customknives #customknife #knife #knives #knifeporn #metalarts
AKA Will and Hannibal flirt and shamelessly dry-hump in a Halloween store. I’m… almost sorry for this?
This is the first of my giveaway fics, for @captainwingdings, who placed second and requested a fic based on a dream they had:
Young Will encounters Med student Hannibal at a halloween store. I had a dream last night where Will (age 20 in this) was visiting family (or his cousins, just pretend he has them) during Halloween time, and he goes with his little cousins (like age 17 or so, so not that little) to a massive Halloween store. Cue slightly older (Med student?) Hannibal. Because what better time to kill some pigs than when everyone is setting out gory decorations? So basically Hannibal takes a liking to Will and kinda follows him around the shop because Will knows all these bloody facts and keeps telling his cousins. Hannibal is automatically smitten, of course, and goes out of his way to talk to Will and press his body up against his in the tiny aisles.
I took some liberties with plot, but hopefully the spirit of the dream is still there!
“I want that big axe! I bet you could cut someone’s hand off with an axe like that!”
Will found himself at the local party outlet, babysitting
his niece Abigail for the afternoon. Halloween was coming up, and Uncle
Will, a criminal justice student at the local community college, was the
ideal choice to help pick out the most gruesome costume.
“Well, um. The axe would be a particularly bad choice for any kind of close-range combat.”
“Look, you want to be a scary killer, right?”
“Well yeah. Duh.”
“So, you need an effective weapon. The axe isn’t going to
do you much good in a fight. You’re really only going to want it for
hacking at things from about arm’s length.”
They were currently in an aisle full of plastic fake
weapons, the kind you could carry around spattered with fake blood and
spook out all the little kids in the neighborhood – every ten-year-old’s
“Yeah but it’s so BIG! I want that one.”
“How about you try the Bowie knife, that’ll be the most effective.”
“But a knife isn’t as scary as an axe.”
“But it’s… look, if it were up to me, I’d rather fight
someone who had an axe than a Bowie knife. You can see an axe coming and
get out of the way pretty quickly. A knife sneaks up on you. And look
at the curve on the end – that’s gonna rip out all your guts.”
“Yeah, but the axe is like… so big. I want the
axe.” Her well-honed pout gave her the air of a mistreated Bassett
Hound, a face that she knew from years of experience was Uncle Will’s
“… fine. We’ll get the axe. But you have to let me mix
your fake blood for you, the stuff they sell at these stores doesn’t
even congeal right.”
“Uncle Will, you’re so weird.”
“Do you want this costume to be accurate or not?”
“I want to be scary.”
“Accurate is scarier than anything you could come up with, I promise you.”
“Pardon me for overhearing, but I’d have to recommend the
butcher knife over the Bowie, if we’re talking close combat.
Specifically the Japanese yanagi ba, traditionally used for sashimi.”
“Excuse me?” Will noticed for the first time the man
standing to their left in the aisle, perusing a set of generic
teen-murder-movie hockey masks. The tall, gorgeous, very well
dressed, mysteriously-accented man to their left. Will realized he was
gawking and snapped his mouth shut, hoping the man hadn’t noticed.
Rounding third base on this fighter, I’m going to start shaping the handle before I go any further with the finish. #customknives #customknife #dailygrind #metalarts #knife #knives #handsanding #bowie #fighter #knifemaker #knifemaking
Gabriel groans, pulling Jack up, his arms hooked and locked under the blonde’s armpits as he drags the limp figure across the rubble and dirt, panting harshly. “C'mon, Jack, it’s not far, stay with me, I’ve got you,” He rambles, despite the fact he’s sure Jack is completely unconscious, or is far too delirious to understand. He pulls him behind the nearest remains of a building, just a stone wall and scaffolding that will have to do.
They don’t have anywhere else, dammit.
Gabriel pulls the blonde to his chest, cursing as he glances down at Jack, blood staining his camouflage uniform. They’re both covered in grime and dirt and gunpowder–there’s no way in hell that Jack’s gunshot wound isn’t going to be infected. There just isn’t.
But he needs to hope.
Bullets fly past Gabriel’s ducked head as he wriggles his bowie knife from his boot, cursing loudly whenever it flies free. He snags it from the dirt, wiping his sweat drenched face with the back of his palm as he leans over Jack, cutting open the man’s shirt as he simultaneously pushes away his gear with his spare hand. Fuck.
“Goddammit, rubia, why didn’t you just let me take the bullet?” He says weakly, a shudder of revulsion running through him as he stares at the gap of missing flesh through Jack’s lower stomach, blood gushing cleanly. Fuck, he needs to put something on it. He’s risking infection, he knows, but he can’t worry about that right now. He needs to stop, at least slow, the bleeding. Gabriel pulls off his harness and dumps it onto the ground, tugging off his jacket and pulling off his shirt, the cleanest thing he’s got at the moment. He tears a clean strip from the article, then another, one of which he folds and presses lightly over the blonde’s wound.
“Okay, Jack, work with me,” He grunts, lifting the man’s torso up as easily as he can, the blonde giving a hazy, weak groan in response to the movement. He supposes that’s a good sign–means the man is alive. Gabriel hushes him softly, reaching for the other strip of cloth and wrapping it around his waist, tying it into place. He reaches for the shirt with his free hand, doing the same thing while he holds Jack. Gabriel gets as many layers of bandage on as he can, slowly propping Jack up against the wall and just taking a moment to breathe.
His blood is pumping so hard he can feel it in his throat, his limbs somehow heavy and stronger than they’ve ever been. It’s adrenaline and exhaustion and anxiety and fear, all driving through Gabriel. He can’t think about that, right now, not with the few splotches of red he sees through Jack’s makeshift bandage. “Fuck,” He breathes quietly, wiping his brow once again and moving forward, applying pressure to the wound.
Jack gasps, letting out a scream of pain, chest heaving as his hands scramble weakly in the rock and dirt beneath him. Gabriel winces, hushing him softly. “Sorry, Jack,” He says, quietly, watching as a few tears squeeze out the man’s baby blue eyes and fall down his cheeks. The blonde shakes his head, wordlessly, trying to regain the wind the pain had knocked out of him in his weakened state.
“S'okay, Gabe…” He says, when he can, watching as the dark skinned man slides as close as he can, wrapping his arm around Jack’s shoulder, the other laid over his stomach, hand pressed firmly to the material.
“How you feeling, boy scout?” There’s no lightening the atmosphere, but Gabriel… He needed to see that soft little smile spread across Jack’s cheeks. He really did.
“About as good as I look,” He chuckles, weakly, looking up at the man softly. He shifts, slightly, giving a small grunt of pain, gritting his teeth together. Gabriel makes an alarmed voice, trying to get the man to stop moving. Jack just shakes his head, going limp as soon as he’s got his head on Gabriel’s shoulder and an arm thrown over the man weakly.
They both know what’s coming.
“So… Great?” He says, lightly, nuzzling against the man’s dirty, bloodstained hair, his gut twisted into knots. He’s going to start crying soon, and he hates it.
Jack rolls his eyes, smiling, ignoring the fact that the bleeding still hasn’t stopped and is seeping through the bandage and all over Gabriel’s fingers. “Yeah.”
They sit in silence for a long, long time, so many things to say, but none being voiced. It wouldn’t… Wouldn’t be worth it, to waste their time together. The last of it. Jack knows as well as Gabriel, the blonde’s eyes getting heavy and his breathing slowing dangerously.
“Hey… Gabe…?” The blonde says, fingers curled around his side tightly, the man’s brows furrowed and his eyes watery.
“What?” He’s choked up.
“I…You know I love you… Right?”
“I do. I love you too, Jack.”
“Glad… I got to… Hear you say it…” Jack breathes, quietly, a few tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. Gabriel is no better, wiping his tears from his own cheeks with his palm. He’s grateful that he’s here, though, as much as it pains him.
He wouldn’t ever desire for Jack to die alone.
Gabriel leans down, pressing a slow, soft kiss to the man’s lips, Jack kissing back the best he is able to. When they pull away, the last thing he sees before Jack’s eyes fall closed for the last time is a smile on the man’s face.
ive been thinking of something today; the primary and secondary weapons each merc uses are probably weapons BLU and RED requires them to use (or at least tell them the type of weapons to use and they bring their own)
but they probably dont have any requirements for melee weapons, like i doubt the job requirements for demoman say to specifically use a bottle of scrumpy
and obviously each melee weapon choice is pretty personal, like scout uses a baseball bat bc he likes baseball and medic probably fished that bonesaw from his stash of medical supplies (and he probably still uses it for surgeries at the end of the day bc hes a douche)
which means you can have a lot of fun with melee weapon choices when making tf2 ocs
like imagine an engineer whod rather not get blood on their wrench and carries an old crowbar or metal pipe to bash people over the head with
imagine a soldier with an actual army issue weapon like a trench knife or a bowie knife and not just a shovel
imagine a heavy who isnt too confident in their fists and decides to smack people across the face with a tire iron instead
like there are so many melee weapon possibilities and its so fun to think about which weapon matches your ocs personality best
Title: Incoendium Author: lady-wordsmith (lady_wordsmith on AO3) Pairing: Daryl Dixon/Reader Series: N/A Warnings: disfigured!reader, brief discussion of disfigurement, brief violence Summary: Tumblr ask box request: “
“You could have been hurt” and “Stay behind me” with Daryl Dixon?” incoendium: ardor, passion, appreciation, wildfire. Set between seasons 2 and 3. Daryl finds you in the woods and brings you to the others when he realizes you’re all alone. He becomes confused at what he feels for you, only to have a nasty encounter with a walker bring everything to the forefront. Disfigured since childhood, you figure intelligence and luck are the only things you’ve got. Then you meet Daryl Dixon and you don’t even realize you’re falling for him until it’s already happened. It all works out. Notes: N/A AO3 link: here