Made by the Manufacture d’Armes de St-Etienne post-WW2 until 1965 at a total of 295840 units, including an initial production of 20240 MAS 49. 7,5x54mm 1929C 10-round removable box magazine, gas-operated semi-automatic fire, built-in compensator/Nato 22mm grenade launcher with sights. This rifle’s had a long and tortuous development, in major parts due to a little historical event you might have heard of. First of all it’s important to note that its action is in fact based on Rossignol’s B5 prototype rifle of the French military rifle trials in the early 1900′s. This is in fact the direct impingement system that would later be used not only in these MAS rifles but also in the American AR series.
The Rossignol B5 ENT-1901 rifle.
In 1938, with a war looming and thus in the very same circumstances that saw France try to modernize its arsenal around the turn of the century, the Manufacture d’Armes de St-Etienne started development of a new semi-automatic military rifle. The resulting weapon was the MAS 38/39 and MAS 40 prototypes, both featuring a 5-round fixed box magazine like the bolt action MAS 36, but making use of the Rossignol system.
The MAS 40 rifle.
About 60 working prototypes were made during the early days of WW2, before being adopted in March of 1940. Unfortunately much like the A6 Meunier in 1913, there were no time or resources to implement a new military rifle during a world war. With German occupation becoming unavoidable, workers at MAS hid the plans to the gun as well as its prototypes. They did their job extremely well, to the point that Free French forces in their now liberated country had to reverse-engineer the MAS 40 without blueprints to resume production, leading to the creation of the MAS 44.
The MAS 44 rifle.
Less than 7000 Mle1944 were manufactured for use by French Marine Commandos in the later stages of WW2. This is the first iteration of the design to introduce a detachable box magazine holding ten rounds. Following the end of the war and the rebuilding of the country’s infrastructure, the rifle was very lightly modified and rolled out for mass production as the MAS 49. It was supposed to see service with all branches of the French military but only ended up in the hands of soldiers fighting in the conflicts of the Decolonization era.
The MAS 49 rifle.
It was finally after these experiences in the Indochina war, the Suez canal crisis in Egypt and the start of the Algerian war that the MAS 49 was refined into the Mle1949/56, with an overall shortened and modernized exterior more fit of a battle rifle. Before that it still looked very much like the MAS 36 bolt action rifle, which is fine if you’re into hunchbacked Lebels.
Elaborately Engraved and Inlaid Four Barrel Swivel Breech Percussion Combination Gun by M. J. Whitmore of Potsdam, New York
from Rock Island Auctions
“M. J. Whitmore of Potsdam, New York, worked at the Wagon & Gun Shop and is believed to have been the man who trained Lewis L. Hepburn of Remington fame. He was one of the men listed on a breech loading patent in 1860 and also received a patent for a "clock, calendar.” Many of Whitmore’s surviving firearms utilize the swivel breech mechanism and have long metal actions like this example. Most, however, are over/under combination guns, but this unusual mid-19th century arm has four barrels. Three are .40 caliber and rifled and one is .410 caliber smoothbore. The paired rifle barrels share a blade front sight and adjustable notch rear sight, and the other rifled barrel and smoothbore barrel have individual sets of sights. All four barrels and the left side of the action at the wrist are stamped with “M. J. WHITMORE/POTSDAM N.Y.” The barrels have floral engraving patterns and the action has additional floral engraving as well as rural scenes and patriotic motifs. There is clever trap compartment in between the barrels that contains a wooden ramrod. The butt has numerous engraved German silver inlays, including a reposed stag, a cabin scene on the patch box door, a sun, and stars. The engraving and stock inlays are similar to known Whitmore rifles manufactured in Massachusetts by Nathaniel and Nathaniel Gilbert Whitmore and pictured in the included copy o the article “My Magnificent Whitmore” by David Wood, Jr. suggesting a family connection. N. G. Whitmore was the master armorer at Springfield Armory and also manufactured a very fine rifle for General Grant that was displayed at the Smithsonian.“
notes: this was a warm-up that got out of hand. originally “idk hickeys?” and @wuzzyletoastermac has better titling skills than I can hope for. chaos-flavored fluff, T, killugon and friends featuring leorio, palm, and ikalgo. 800 words.
There’s a lot Leorio takes for granted, being a Hunter and a doctor. For one, that his friends tend to be really, really weird. And not just the weirdness that is Gon Freecss managing to mangle his arm every six months like clockwork, or how Killua Zoldyck can shoot lightning from his fingertips and usually uses that skill to turn metal surfaces around Leorio into minefields of static. Or even that one of Killua’s closest friends is an octopus who likes to hang out on his head like an oddly-shaped rifle-wielding hat.
All that? Totally fine. But he never expected Palm Siberia leaning over to him and whispering intently, “Did you notice the hickeys on Killua’s neck.”
While the same time the German Army was modernizing with their new rifle, the Gewehr 88, across the globe China was also seeking new arms to modernize the Chinese Imperial Army. By the 1890′s the Chinese Army was mostly armed with obsolete breechloading rifles which were imported from foreign countries who sold them as cheap surplus. Many units were still armed with muskets, swords, spears, and bows.
One important figure in the modernization of the Chinese Army was Viceroy Zhang Zhidong, who created an experimental army consisting of 60,000 men. Instructed by German officer, the men of this army trained with modern weapons and equipment and were armed with German Gewehr 88 rifles. With the successes of Zhang’s modernized army, he was able to obtain funds from the Imperial government to begin the production of a new bolt action infantry rifle. Since Zhang was familiar with the Gewehr 88, he chose simply to adopt it for the new Chinese Army, beginning production at the Hubei Arsenal in 1891. The new rifles were not produced under license, rather Zhang simply stole and copied the design. In 1895 the rifle was officially adopted by the Chinese Empire, called the Type 88 and nicknamed the Hanyang 88 after the Hanyang Arsenal, the primary produced of the rifle.
Early production of the Hanyang 88 were exact copies of the Gewehr 88 in every way. In 1904 some improvements were made. First the barrel jacket was removed, a feature which Germany had refused to do away with. Secondly the sights were replaced with more modern sights based on that of more modern Mauser rifles. Finally a wooden handguard was added.
The Hanyang 88 was a good rifle for China’s new army, it was simple and robust. The only problem with the Hanyang 88 was not with the rifle itself, but the ability of Chinese industry to produce them with quality. China was new to modern industrialization, and the quality of the rifles suffered as a result. Many were fine rifles while others were crudely made depending on what factory they originated from. Regardless the Hanyang 88 saw some hard service throughout China’s tumultuous history in the late 19th and 20th centuries. First they were used by the Qing Dynasty Imperial Army, seeing use in the First Sino Japanese War and the Boxer Rebellion. After the overthrow of the empire and founding of the Chinese Republic the rifle became standard issue for the newly formed Nationalist Army, as well as the many warlord factions who took control of the country in the 1920′s. The Type 88 would then be used in the Second Sino Japanese war and World War II. It was also a common rifle used by Communist forces commanded by Mao Tse Tung.
In 1935 the Chinese Army adopted the Type 24 rifle, which was a copy of the German Mauser Standard Modell. Despite being much more advanced than the obsolete Type 88, the Hanyang rifle was never phased out and continued to be issued concurrently with the Type 88, and later American Lend Lease weapons like the Springfield M1903, M1917 Enfield, and M1 Garand. Production of the Type 88 was finally discontinued in 1944, with 1,083,480 produced. They continued in use after World War II and during the Chinese Civil War, later being used by the People’s Liberation Army after the fall of the Chinese Republic along side Soviet weaponry. Examples of the Type 88 were even found in use among Vietcong guerrillas during the Vietnam War.
As a testament to the hard use of the Hanyang 88, there are relatively few surviving examples today, and most are very worn and beat up. Many even lack rifling, their bores being worn smooth from decades of continuous use.
Rose shifted for what seemed the hundredth time and sighed. It was obvious she wasn’t going to be getting any sleep tonight. No matter how many deep breaths she took or how many sheep she counted, she couldn’t sleep. She wished now that she’d taken the Doctor up on his offer of a little telepathic help, but she’d been so sure that the exhaustion of a four day trek through Molkania trying to escape the rebel King would send her straight to sleep that she’d declined.
So much for that.
Turning over yet again, she huffed in frustration. Right, that was it. Flinging back the covers she slid from the bed and marched out of the room in search of the Doctor, expecting he’d be in the library as he usually was, reading away as she slept.
Only he wasn’t.
She frowned at the empty room, irritation warring with exhaustion. Where was he, then? She knew he wouldn’t be in the console room, because he’d said the TARDIS needed a break from repairs, and they both knew he couldn’t spend more than a minute in the console room without fiddling with something. So where was he? She was so tired and all she needed was a little telepathic nudge from the Doctor to help her sleep, but she really didn’t feel like traipsing all over the TARDIS to find him.
Focusing intently, Rose pleaded with the TARDIS. “Help a girl out? I know you can do that telepathy stuff too. Just….I can’t sleep an’ I’m dyin’ here. Please?”
The TARDIS hummed soothingly and Rose sighed in relief as her bedroom door appeared.
“Thanks love, you’re the best.”
The TARDIS hummed affectionately and Rose patted the wall in thanks as she opened the door to her room…only to find she wasn’t in her room.
She was, in fact, in the Doctor’s room.
“What?” She rubbed at her eyes, staring at the Doctor’s banana-print bedspread. “What’d you bring me here for?”
The TARDIS hummed again and closed the door before removing it for good measure.
“Oh, you’re kiddin’ me!”
The timeship’s hum was smug, this time.
“Come on, don’t do this to me now,” she pleaded. “I’m dyin’ here. Just let me go back to my room and help me sleep. Please?”
The TARDIS hummed soothingly but the door didn’t reappear.
Rose sighed and gave in, flopping onto the bed.
Just then, she heard the shower start in the next room and a familiar voice started singing at a hundred miles an hour.
“There’s antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium, and hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen and rhenium…”
Rose rolled her eyes, recognising a few of the names from junior form science.
“And lanthanum and osmium and astatine and radium, and gold and protactinium and indium and gallium, and iodine and thorium and thulium and thallium.”
She snorted, curling up and snuggling into the closest pillow. Only the Doctor could sing about chemicals with such great enthusiasm, and judging by his volume, he was really enjoying himself. She turned her face into the pillow to stifle her giggles.
Surprisingly, however, as the song went on, her eyes began to feel quite heavy, no matter how she tried to keep them open, and the comforting scent of the Doctor on the pillows and sheets left her languid and utterly boneless.
“You were supposed to help me sleep in my room,” she muttered to the TARDIS, trying her best to stay awake.
By the time the Doctor got to ‘tungsten, tin and sodium,’ however, Rose was fast asleep.
The Doctor rubbed at his (very impressive) hair vigorously with a towel and hummed a few bars of Tom Lehrer’s Elaments Song. It was a brilliant composition, if not long out of date, and a good, rousing rendition was just what he needed after the very long few days he and Rose had had.
He frowned as he slipped into his jimjams. Rose had looked more than a little peaky, come to think of it- he’d have to look in on her and make sure she was sleeping alright. It had been a pretty grueling few days even by his standards, after all, so who knew what it had done to her utterly brilliant but oh, so fragile human self?
Flinging open the bathroom door, he decided he’d look in on her first thing before nipping off to the library for a few hours of quiet reading. However, he had taken no more than two steps into his room when he noticed a lump on his bed.
A Rose-shaped lump, to be precise.
And she was fast asleep.
He huffed, cocking an eyebrow at the ceiling, knowing full well who was responsible. “You know, out of all the ships, I chose to steal you. I’m sure the other models wouldn’t have been this meddlesome.”
The TARDIS chimed and if he didn’t know better he’d say she’d just blown a raspberry at him.
He rolled his eyes and strode to the bed, bending to lift Rose into his arms and carry her back to her own bed…only to change his mind and straighten up again. Sighing, he tugged at the covers and pulled them gently over her instead.
She looked so peaceful and she’d been so very tired that it would be a shame to wake her, he told himself. She was only human, after all. He’d leave her settled comfortably and go and have a nice read in the library, as he’d planned. However, turning towards the door, he noticed it was missing and sighed.
“Oh, come on! That’s a bit much, isn’t it? What if I want to read a book? You know I don’t sleep as often as humans do.”
The TARDIS said nothing and a small pile of books appeared on his bedside table. He sighed in resignation. “Fine.”
Rifling through the stack, he resolutely ignored Twenty-First Century Human Courting Rituals for Dummies and instead chose to re-read Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Noticing that his armchair had mysteriously vanished, he rolled his eyes and settled into bed side Rose, careful not to disturb her. He glanced over as he opened the book, and smiled.
Rose was sleeping peacefully, a contented smile on her face.
An Extremely Fine Rifle Officer’s Presentation Sword
83cm blade by J. & W. Wood, Cutlers, Manchester, finely etched with foliage, stands of arms, crowned VR cypher, the Arms of Stockport, slung bugle horn, Prince of Wales feathers, recipient’s crest and arms and presentation inscription, the gilt patent solid hilt, the guard cast and pierced with foliage, Prince of Wales feathers, the unit title of The Stockport Rifle Volunteers Fourth Battn Cheshire, around the Arms of Stockport, the Royal cypher, a slung bugle horn and the recipient’s crest, the back-piece cast with laurels, oak leaves and acorns and a classical helmet, wire bound chequered horn grips, in its gilt scabbard with large gilt mounts embossed with foliage and panels of trophies of arms against a stippled matted ground, two suspension rings, complete with its blue and gold bullion sword and knot.
The inscriptions reads: Presented to Major Coppock, By His Late Company The First Stockport or XVIIth Cheshire Rifle Volunteers, May 4th 1861. HENRY COPPOCK appointed Captain when the 17th (Stockport) Company was formed 10 March 1860. Upon the formation of the 4th Administrative Battalion, Cheshire Rifle Volunteers 20 November 1860, he was appointed Major (though with a Captain’s rank), a position he held until his death in 1870.
He was born in 1806 in Stockport and became a lawyer. Upon the formation of Stockport Borough in 1835 he was appointed Town Clerk, and served the town through the troubled times of the Chartists Riots and other insurrections.
He fathered 12 children and resided at Daw Bank House, Stockport. He died in 1870. His ‘family’ arms/crest appear to be his own invention. The Arms for Stockport as shown on the sword are still in use, though they were not Granted until 1932.
Rating: G Characters: Garrus Vakarian, Tali’Zorah, James Vega, FemShep Relationship: Shakarian Words: 1,876
When We Stop Reacting to Our Parents
Sanctuary had been … unsettling. If Garrus had seen it
three years ago, he might’ve thought it was something particular to humans, a
testament to some moral deficiency inherent to the entire species. But turning
against one’s own in hopes of self-preservation, however misguided? He’d seen
enough now to know that was just people.
But those thoughts seemed far away as he helped a mumbling,
stumbling Tali into her bunk. He thought about the myriad ways he could
blackmail her by recording her drunken ramblings, but when she started talking
about Miranda fighting against her father, about her never bending to please
him, he decided to show mercy just this once.
“I think it’s time for bed,” he told her as he eased her
onto the mattress.
“Keelah, Garrus,” she’d said, her words a little too long. “Advisor
to the Primarch. War hero. Shepard’s boyfriend. Your father must be so proud of
you.” She fell back against her pillow, still fully clothed, and closed her
eyes. In a quieter voice, she said, “I wonder what that’s like.”
November 15th marked a
holiday that had a special place in Hope City’s heart, and the
tradition persisted through Day Zero and into New Hope’s calendar.
Every year the city hosted a grand masquerade ball at the convention
center in Upperhills, paid for by the generous donations of a few so
that it could be freely attended by the public. The original purpose
of the dance was brought over by immigrants from the far shores of
the world, where they dressed up in masks and elegant costumes to
allow the spirits to blend in and join them for a night of fun. They
hoped this would appease the spirits and in return, the supernatural
would grant the townsfolk a mild winter.
The deeper meaning had since been
lost to time, and the masquerade ball now served as an excuse for the
rich to dress up and get politely intoxicated.
I got several requests to continue this ficlet so that’s what I’m gonna do. Don’t worry, other people who sent in prompts! I’ll still do them! It just didn’t feel right leaving the SpiderByte fans off on a sort-of cliffhanger.
Some Gency in the beginning because -John Ralphio voice- These couples were initially part of a much longer fiiiiiiiic I had planned!
It was 4 AM when Genji’s comm rang.
“Antworte nicht darauf,” murmured Mercy, more than half asleep with her arms and legs tangled around him. He had half a mind to listen to her but he glanced over at his comm on the bed stand and noticed a regrettably violet light emanating from it and sighed. He gently pulled himself out of her arms, got out of bed, picked up the comm and held it to his ear.
“Hola, Sparrow,” Sombra’s voice came over the comm.
Genji rubbed his forehead and walked out of the bedroom, giving one glance over his shoulder at Mercy pulling all the sheets tight around herself before stepping out the door. “It’s 4 in the morning,” he muttered.
“Remember when I said I would call you in for a favor one day?” said Sombra.
“I feel as though I am about to regret answering this call,” said Genji, with a yawn.
“Since when have I ever given you reason not to trust me?” said Sombra, and then she quickly added, “Don’t answer that. Look–I need a transport. I need a safehouse. And I need a doctor.”
1. Oppose Nazism through ordinary political channels, winning people to your side and supporting non-Nazi politicians.
2. Make sure you have both the means and the will to oppose an actual, literal coup.
Because the Nazis DID IN FACT GAIN POWER ONLY AFTER A COUP and NEVER GAINED A MAJORITY OF THE VOTE. So the actual problem that led to Nazi takeover was not the lack of street brawls and sucker punches, but the inability to properly defend from violence in in an immediate sense AFTER the enemy had already initiated violence. Unless the rising tide of Nazism is even stronger than it even was in Weimar Germany, you do not in fact need to undermine the principles of democracy to protect yourself from Nazi takeover.
So if you feel the need to stock up on rifles and canned goods, fine. Because those are the actual things you would need to defend against a coup or fight back after one has taken place. But please, stop weakening the norms of democracy in the name of short-term purity.
so i have lots of documents that i write fics in and i was looking for something in one of them and found an old ‘first time’ one that i never finished (basically it was a ‘the girls talking to Y/N about sex one’ but i decided to finish it with a ‘first time’) so yeah here’s that (no smut cuz im a fluffy piece of shit)
You knock on the hotel room door, rubbing the hem of your shirt between your fingers anxiously. A moment later, Mack opens the door, and lets you inside. The entire floor of the hotel is Z free. With a little bit of work, you were able to get rooms open for everyone who wanted their own. You were in one with 10k, and for no reason you freaked yourself out, and left the room, only to pace the hallway. That was an hour ago. You head into Mack and Addy’s room, not shocked to see that the sheets are in shambles, and things are knocked over. Your cheeks flush, and Mack climbs onto the bed beside Addy-both of them fully clothed, thankfully-and grin smugly. “Why aren’t you with 10k?” Addy asks. Your cheeks get even hotter, and you drop your gaze to the floor, clearing your throat. “Mack, out.” Addy commands. You look up, and Mack furrows his brows, feigning offense. “You aren’t actually going to make me leave, are you?” He says. “We’re having girl talk.” She says. He opens his mouth to protest, but she narrows her eyes dangerously, and he climbs off the bed, sliding into his shoes. “I’m gonna go find Doc’s room. I bet him and Murphy are playing cards, and being inclusive.” Addy arches a brow, and he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. You sink into the bed, flopping on your back, throwing an arm over your face. “I have absolutely no idea what to do. Or how to do it.” You grumble. Addy grabs your arm, uncovering your face. You sit up, pulling your legs onto the bed, facing her. She sits cross legged across from you, looking happier and more at ease than you’ve seen her in a long time.