firearms dealers

lintrollersareuseless-deactivat  asked:

batbros fly-by hugs. it's like it was made for those losers

The Gotham night is damp and sour, smoke and pollution filling every inch that isn’t yet taken by corruption and misery.
It’s kind of a nice night, actually.
Robin’s crouched on a rooftop on his Father’s orders. He’d been sent ahead to scout the area, and was awaiting further instruction. He’s impatient now, though – apart from anything, his skills are clearly wasted on mere reconnaissance – and it’s been almost forty minutes of this. Alone in the dark and not a fight to be seen. He’s irritated at his father and at his stupid costume and how his hair is just barely too long now that it tickles his neck when he moves. Which is no excuse for failing to spot his assailant.

One moment he’s on the solid rooftop, wondering if he imagined the sound of a footstep, and the next–

He’s lifted easily from his crouch, a strong arm squeezing tight around his torso, and they’re halfway off the building before he can do more than sputter. He’s readying an attack – something violent, painful, and definitely not Batman-approved – when he becomes aware of two things; the first is a very familiar blend of aftershave and kevlar. The second is the ghost of a laugh around the back of his head.

“I’m so glad I met you,” Nightwing tells him quietly, earnestly, over the rush of the air and his billowing yellow cape. One hand tight gripped tight to one of his pre-placed lines, the pressure of the other doing funny things to Damian’s ribcage. He opens his mouth to retort, but doesn’t quite get there.

And Grayson twists in the air, expertly loosening his grip on the line. Safe and controlled for both of them. Then they’re on another rooftop and Robin’s pulled into a squeezing hug. It barely lasts a moment, and there’s a flash of white teeth in an obnoxiously large grin before Nightwing’s gone.

Robin, bewildered, stays behind. As an afterthought, he spits out a bug.

The Red Hood is in heavy shadow, treading as softly as he knows how.
He’s high above the deal on the warehouse catwalk, eyeing off the two warring factions. According to his runners, some big shit’s gonna go down tonight at this ‘unarmed’ meet, and a couple telltale bulges in the backs of jeans has him cringing prematurely.

The only question is, who’s going to draw first?

He edges closer to the windows, doing a second scan for explosives or any other surprises. Looks like pretty standard firearms for drug-dealers, nothing too far out of the ordinary. It doesn’t hurt to be careful.

He’s creeping closer to the action, gun in one hand, when he catches sight of a shadow in his peripheral.


Whirling quick, he catches sight of black and blue (“I could’ve shot you!” he doesn’t say, because Dick’s a lot of things, but – nope, he’s definitely stupid… ), and then he’s being cuddled. Fucking–

“I miss you, little wing.”

One last squeeze, a sad-sounding little puff of breath, and then Nightwing fucking cartwheels back through the skylight. Go figure.

Hood scowls, figuring it’s safe under the helmet, and jams his gun back into the holster. Goddamn guilt-trip.

Red Robin is frowning. He was supposed to meet with an informant tonight, and, after spending the last two hours scouting out the building for potential traps, the guy’s a no-show. He’s going to stick it out another thirty, forty minutes tops, just in case. Then he’ll do a quick run around his usual route and hit his apartment to finally catch some sleep. With WE and Red Robin and the Titans… and living alone, properly, really alone for the first time… he hasn’t had a lot of time for. Well, anything.

He hasn’t even had a chance to read through those GED flyers he picked up.

He sighs and rubs his temples through the cowl, curling his shoulders further inward. He closes his eyes, listing sideways against the file cabinet. Maybe the guy was held up.

He hears a faint creeeaaak of the floorboard and shifts his weight back on to his aching calves. Waiting a moment to growl,

“You’re late.”

And instead of the acne-scarred middle-manager, he gets. Well. An open-armed Nightwing, who waits patiently for him to rise from the crouch. “What’re you doing here–?” he says, voice back to normal.

His answer comes by way of an enormous hug.

“I’ll never not be proud of you,” Nightwing murmurs.

“Oh,” Red Robin– Tim says. Arms rising hesitantly to squeeze back.

“Every single day you amaze me.” And for minutes, neither of them move. Nightwing’s hair is tickling the skin of Tim’s cheek.

And finally, pulling back with a smile, Nightwing says, “You’ve got business, kiddo,” and salutes, vanishes back up into the vents. Because of course he does.

Then there’s a much heavier, clumsier tread by the door.

Tim clears his throat. “You’re late,” he growls, again.

Out in the fresh night air, cheeks wind-pinked, Nightwing grins broadly.

To the air, he says, “Thanks so much, O. Couldn’t’ve done it without you.” And then, “Next time, you think we’ll go for B?”

He laughs, an infectious sound, and dives into the waiting night.



“My father is a highly respected private security consultant and federally licensed firearms dealer. That means he has to own a few weapons. Like this 175-pound draw tactical crossbow. Or this carbon steel marine combat knife, 50ae desert eagle. Smoke grenade with pull ring igniter. GO!”

–Allison Argent

1. The Orlando shooter had a CCW from his job working for one of the worlds largest security firms that dealt mostly in government contracts (like the Olympics). He passed three separate FBI background checks for that CCW, and for the two guns he bought that he used in the shooting. Universal background checks would not have prevented this shooting.

2. The assault weapons ban of the 90s would only have prevented federally licensed firearms dealers from selling the AR-15 (as well as prohibiting the manufacture of AR-15s). It didn’t affect the already millions of AR-15s already in the hands of upwards of 80 million civilians. The AR-15 is the single most popular firearm in history. Unless you want to confiscate every single one, an AWB would be highly ineffective at preventing this sort of mass shooting event. And since the shooting took place over a period of hours, a high capacity magazine ban wouldn’t have done anything either. It would only embolden law enforcement agencies, consolidating their power and giving them more of an excuse to patrol and surveil minority communities.

3. The vaaaaaaaast majority of firearm related homicides are committed with handguns, which SCOTUS already says the second amendment protects. Rifles make up less than a percent of all homicides, coming in under hammers in terms of total kill count.

Just an FYI for people making ridiculous claims about gun laws in this country.

My cheap AR build. This steamed  from a sale of an Anderson lower at my local firearms dealer. Minus the optic it cost me a little over $450 total. I am really happy with the full Magpul setup, it is light and very comfortable to handle. Mind you the main parts were found on sale.

Anderson lower, Palmetto upper, ALG trigger, Magpul furniture.

@cinnamon-the-dead-hoe: Every Federally Licensed Firearms dealer (IE most firearms dealers, IIRC) is required to do a background check. No exceptions. If you find someone who doesn’t, please report them to the ATF. They are breaking the law.

Now, certain gun sales don’t require a NICS check, but the majority of legal sales do, AFAIK.

Unless, of course, you were talking completely out of your rear, and just blindly repeating something you Heard from Someone.


This is a post I’ve been meaning to make. It’s interesting to see how people have begun to treat me after I started working at a gun store, even people that I’ve known for a long time. 

1. Don’t ask me for deals, if I want to and can give you a good deal on something I will. I obviously can’t hook everyone up on everything. When it comes to this obviously my family and personal friends come first. If you are interested in something just ask me if I can get it for you, I’ll tell you how much, if I’m in a position to get you a good deal on something I’ll let you know. Also, just because you got a deal once, don’t always expect to get hooked up. Sometimes it’s just not a possibility, nothing personal.

2. If it’s a shooting range as well, act like a courteous shooter. Sweep your brass, take your targets down, respect all the RSOs and don’t ever name drop because your ass got caught doing something stupid. If you want to dispute something or have a discussion about gun safety, first immediately comply with the RSO then step off the range and ask to speak with the RSO in private. Just because you know one of the RSOs don’t immediately think you have special privileges and don’t have to respect range rules.

3. Good relationships are mutually beneficial. If you want something, offer whatever you can. If you’ve already been hooked up, feel free to reciprocate in whatever way you can. 

4. Don’t exaggerate your connections, your MIL/LE status or your special trainings. If you want to share your experience that’s totally fine, but I’ve met all sorts of characters from three letter agencies and various military branches and that alone doesn’t entitle you to special deals.

Feel free to completely ignore this just don’t be surpassed when you’ve been a regular customer for years and have never gotten a deal.

That is all.