=\\TACTICAL WAIFUS QUEST//=
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
- Original
grommile
nasty-minded old cynic
- Location
- NERV-Mercia
- Pronouns
- Traditional/Animate
Wikipedia is your friend
revolver
semi-automatic pistol
The most obvious practical difference is that with a revolver, you reload it by opening the cylinder, dumping out the empty cartridge cases, and putting new cartridges into the cylinder, while with a semi-automatic pistol, you usually reload it by ejecting one box magazine and inserting another. (Some early semi-automatics, such as the Mauser C96, had less convenient reload methods.)
Dirtnap
Kanmusu Affecionado
...
A revolver has a revolving cylinder that holds the rounds.
A Colt 1911 is a semi-automatic pistol meaning it feeds from a magazine inserted into the gun.
Here's a better look.
This is a revolver see the big spinny middle? As you pull the trigger the revolving cylinder in the middle there will give you a fresh round, until all cylinders are empty. Which you then have to flip the cylinders out (they stay attached to the gun though) and reload it. It's a relatively simple process. You can youtube 'reloading a revolver' for more info.
This is a Colt 1911. In the bottom of the handgrip it has a magazine. Most Colt 1911s have a 7 round magazine. It's also simple to operate, insert magazine, pull the slide (the fancy engraved portion here) back til it locks, depress the slide catch, causing the slide to go forward and load a round into the magazine. The gun is now ready to fire.
Then you simply flip the safety off and put .45 caliber rounds down range. Once you've fired 7 rounds the slide will lock in the 'open' position (the chamber is open, you can look down into the gun and see all the fiddly bits). Now you insert another magazine of 7 rounds, depress the slide release again (that's the little lever just above the trigger) and you're good to go again.
Last edited:
- Location
- Germiston, South Africa
Hey at least he did not call a magazine a clip. For some reason that particular piece of slang sends the gun nuts into frothing ragefits.
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
That's an annoying misconception not helped by the fact people will eternal screw up minutia for eternity. The difference between an automatic and a revolver, however, is a large and dangerous difference that can and will hurt you if you fuck it up. Recovers have a gap bbetween the cylinder and barrel; if you put anything in line with said gap, exhausted gasses can and will come out this gap at great heat and velocity, and anything put there- for example, a finger- will find itself energetically removed as the hot gasses make an excellent means of cutting things. Likewise, automatic pistols have a slide that flies back at great speed and is of considerable momentum. If something is in the way of this slide travel, the slide will stroke it with great force. If, say, the web of your thumb is there, then it will be stuck with force great enough to tear it so there is a chunk missing. This is called slide bite.
In short, certain mechanisms have certain facts about them that are safety issues and should be known.
Part 103: Rebootening with Riley (and her booty)
- Location
- 'Murica
=\\TACTICAL WAIFUS QUEST//=
Part 103: Rebootening with Riley (and her booty)
Part 103: Rebootening with Riley (and her booty)
Your name is Major James Ryan, and you're trying to pretend the events of the last hour or so didn't happen with every fiber in your damaged body. So far neither reality nor your own traitorous memories aren't bending to your desperate will. You would never have made it in the VDV.
It all started so innocently. Or… as innocently as Marie firing a fully-automatic weapon without her armor could be. The girl's sports bra put up a valiant fight, but it just wasn't up to the relentless hammering of an HK21E chu-chu-chugging along at eight hundred rounds of full power seven-six-two NATO a minute.
The harmonics of her chest jiggling as the roller-delayed gun bounced in the pocket of her shoulder was so beautiful it almost wasn't erotic. And when she unlatched the smoking barrel after turning a good few belts of Federal's finest into smoke and noise… That wicked look of glee in her eyes caught in the mirage, the way sweat glistened on her arms as she slid a fresh barrel into the gun and gently locked it in place…
Uh… anyway… You'd offered to help Marie and Zoe zero pistols. After all, you'd consistently pulled down top scores on the pistol quals back in your Ranger days. And therein lay your mistake. You'd shot all those quals with your service pistol, an M9.
A big, heavy steel-framed gun. A heavy gun shooting a fairly pedestrian nine millimeter cartridge. Combine the two, and you get a gun that just kinda sits there when you pull the trigger. No kick, more of a gentle, half-hearted shove.
When you picked up one of the girls' svelte polymer-framed pistols, the first round of whatever magnum .45 super-wildcat cartridge they loaded sent the pistol jumping out of your hands and recoiling squarely into your face. Yup. You pistol-whipped yourself into unconsciousness on your first trigger pull.
The girls would never let you forget that, you were certain.
"Hey, Boss?" Speak of the devil. Riley was standing in your door, still wearing the makeshift nurse's cap she'd fashioned once it was obvious you hadn't killed yourself. She was smiling at you. Not her usual kind, sweet smile. But a different smile. A smile that squished her chubby cheeks up until she was squinting even more than usual. A smile that bent her lips into a strained 3 shape as she struggled not to burst out in howls of laughter.
"Riley," you said curtly. Your voice sounded strange in your ears. Your nose had taken a glancing blow of flying pistol, and it'd definitely caused some damage. Nothing compared to your ruined ego, but still.
"I, uh," Riley closed the door behind her and walked over to your desk. She was nervous, you could tell by the way she worried that tiny miniskirt of hers. "Just wanted to check in, make sure you're okay."
"I'll heal," you said. "'least my face will."
Riley stifled a giggle. She pulled her skirt taught against her thighs—which was saying something. That girl had thighs for days—and settled onto the edge of your desk. You tried to ignore the way her flesh squished slightly against the generic Scandinavian furniture, but her multicam stockings did a shockingly counter-productive job of drawing your eye along her shapely legs. "Boss… you're not feeling… I dunno, emasculated, are you?"
"No," you protested, unconsciously crossing your legs.
"Good," Riley nodded sagely. "You know… I don't think you've got anything to be ashamed of." She held out her hand. "See this?" She ran her thumb along a callous on the web of her thumb. "I used to shoot until my hand bled. Then I'd do it again the next day. And the day after that for as long as I can remember."
Riley shifted her legs, her thighs sliding over each other like frozen cream on… uh… Okay, you think you briefly caught a glance of something seafoam green up her skirt and that's totally ruined your ability to come up with clever metaphors on the fly. Suffice it to say that if Riley's legs were a breakfast item, they would be sweet and delicious.
You blinked, hastily moving onwards before your inner monologue meandered into the territory of sandwich metaphors. (Short version, you'd like to be the filling.) "You're saying I shouldn't be ashamed because you've got more practice?"
"Nah," said Riley. "I mean… yes, but…" She shook her head and adjusted her cap. "I'm a better weapon than you are. I probably always will be and I probably always was. I mean…" she lifted her shirt just enough to show her startlingly toned belly. "I was literallydesigned for this. If I wasn't engineered I'd be a freak of nature."
She smoothed her shirt and smiled at you. "But you… Boss, uh… you're a better person than I am. You make me want to be a better person. And…" She shifted her hips, grinding on the edge of her desk in nervous excitement. "I think you make me be a better person."
She smiled at you. An honest smile this time, not the smile of a girl who wants to laugh but knows she shouldn't. "Just leave the shooting to me, okay? I can keep you safe, but you… boss, you make me feel safe."
You were about to say something when Riley opened her mouth again. She blushed, aware that she was cutting you off. But you could see it in her eyes. Whatever she was going to add wasn't something easy for her to say. It'd taken her probably this whole conversation to work up the courage, and you couldn't let that momentum go to waste. "So… Boss…" She glanced at her toes. "This isn't the first time someone's gotten hurt on the team…"
You were well aware of that. You'd watched her almost bleed out once.
"Sometimes, when they're recovering—one of my girls I mean—" she blushed and tried to straighten out the disordered pile of words pouring from her mouth. "Uh… they'll take a nap on my lap. Or… just rest their head while I read a story or braid their hair or something. It… I mean, it seems to help…" Her cheeks are bright red and she can't bring herself to look you in the eye.
>Wat say?
>Wat do?
Icipall
Don't worry, we can fanfix that!
- Location
- Cold snow fields of Finland
Huh, I was wondering just yesterday that there hasn't been an update for this for quite some time.
[X] Accept lap pillow
Whoa.
Ouch.
But can Tacfus beat the IKEA furniture?
Good taste.
*gasp* Could it be? The legendary healing technique, lap pillow!?
[X] Accept lap pillow
- Location
- Central Standard Time
I'll be contrarian:
[Χ] Rest head on shoulder
[Χ] Rest head on shoulder
- Location
- Mountains of Appalachia
[X] Accept lap pillow
Tiny_Dic
Superreasonable Asshole Centrist | McSimp
- Location
- My Room
I hurt myself today
From the punch of a .45
My nose, broken still
My ego bruised f'r worse
The shame hurts me still
The Seargeant smirks at me
Try to suppress it, all in vain
But I can't help but smile again
Oh, what have I become
My sweet subordinates
I didn't ask for this
But I'm still here for you anyways
If a father is what they need
Then a father I will be
We will weather the storm
Until Eternity
"Isn't this unprofessional conduct for an Army officer?"
I feel this pressure here
The Chains of Command, as they say
My identity is confused
The situation, chaotic
We're takin' this one step at a time
For fear of a misstep
Of hurting them once again
A thought I cannot bear
Oh, what have I become
My sweet subordinates
I didn't ask for this
But I'm still here for you anyways
If a lover is what they need
Then a lover I will be
I will be here for you
As long as I may live
I'm not strong right now
Not sure if I'll ever be
But I will be strong for you
Until Eternity
[X] Accept lap pillow.
The quest lives once again. Huzzah.
From the punch of a .45
My nose, broken still
My ego bruised f'r worse
The shame hurts me still
The Seargeant smirks at me
Try to suppress it, all in vain
But I can't help but smile again
Oh, what have I become
My sweet subordinates
I didn't ask for this
But I'm still here for you anyways
If a father is what they need
Then a father I will be
We will weather the storm
Until Eternity
"Isn't this unprofessional conduct for an Army officer?"
I feel this pressure here
The Chains of Command, as they say
My identity is confused
The situation, chaotic
We're takin' this one step at a time
For fear of a misstep
Of hurting them once again
A thought I cannot bear
Oh, what have I become
My sweet subordinates
I didn't ask for this
But I'm still here for you anyways
If a lover is what they need
Then a lover I will be
I will be here for you
As long as I may live
I'm not strong right now
Not sure if I'll ever be
But I will be strong for you
Until Eternity
[X] Accept lap pillow.
The quest lives once again. Huzzah.
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
Quite. I got stuck with an M9 for part of my first deployment in 2005. We had a joke about it.: "Stop, or I'll shoot you again!"
Not the wildest pistol in the world. About the best thing you could say for it was that it was very reliable. But in every other aspect it was really a let down.
Desk-kun: "MY BODY IS READY!"
[X] Accept the lap pillow.
-[X] "Yes, you can braid my hair. Wait, shoot, I don't have long hair."
--[X] Realize your brain is possibly not firing on all thrusters right now.
---[X] Also realize that this means a lot to her, and if it took her this much willpower to work up the courage to even offer, she will be pretty hurt if we turn her down. She just mentioned about being a weapon and a designed tool, and she's pretty clearly hoping we will make her feel like a person and not an object. So we should treat her like a woman instead of a weapon.
----[X] She is also offering to treat us with as much care as she does for her Squad - sisters. This is literally the most caring thing she can possibly do for us right now. We really need to accept it. And thank her.
Admiral_Corgi
The Admiral of the PT Boats
- Location
- The Strange land of Florida
[X] Accept lap pillow
What'll happen next shall amuse the Corgi
What'll happen next shall amuse the Corgi
[X] Accept the lap pillow.
-[X] "Yes, you can braid my hair. Wait, shoot, I don't have long hair."
--[X] Realize your brain is possibly not firing on all thrusters right now.
---[X] Also realize that this means a lot to her, and if it took her this much willpower to work up the courage to even offer, she will be pretty hurt if we turn her down. She just mentioned about being a weapon and a designed tool, and she's pretty clearly hoping we will make her feel like a person and not an object. So we should treat her like a woman instead of a weapon.
----[X] She is also offering to treat us with as much care as she does for her Squad - sisters. This is literally the most caring thing she can possibly do for us right now. We really need to accept it. And thank her.
-[X] "Yes, you can braid my hair. Wait, shoot, I don't have long hair."
--[X] Realize your brain is possibly not firing on all thrusters right now.
---[X] Also realize that this means a lot to her, and if it took her this much willpower to work up the courage to even offer, she will be pretty hurt if we turn her down. She just mentioned about being a weapon and a designed tool, and she's pretty clearly hoping we will make her feel like a person and not an object. So we should treat her like a woman instead of a weapon.
----[X] She is also offering to treat us with as much care as she does for her Squad - sisters. This is literally the most caring thing she can possibly do for us right now. We really need to accept it. And thank her.
Part 104: Cha-reest-mass Caekei!
- Location
- 'Murica
=\\TACTICAL WAIFUS QUEST//=
Part 104: Cha-reest-mass Caekei!
You could tell that Riley was uncomfortable. Actually, no. Not uncomfortable. Scared. You could see it in her eyes. She knew exactly how vulnerable of a position she'd just put herself in. She was wound up tighter than Marie's blouse and if she wasn't Delta trained you were certain she'd be a nervous wreck right now.Part 104: Cha-reest-mass Caekei!
You knew she hadn't had a conventional childhood. Or a happy one at that. Any psychologist would tell you her years in training would constitute neglect at best. Hell, on more than on occasion she'd referred to herself as a weapon. You knew she had a hard time seeing herself as anything more than a particularly expensive smart bomb. Little more than an accessory to her rifle. A tool to be ordered, not a person to be cherished.
And yet… she'd offered you her lap. Something normally reserved for her squad mates. Her sisters. You were pretty sure that was the most caring thing he could possibly do for you. She'd just put herself way out there. Laid her feelings bare and put herself completely at your mercy.
You could tell the only reason she wasn't furiously trying to retract or deny what she just said—or run out of the room in a panic—was because she was literally too terrified to move. Her chest—such as it was—oscillated with quick, shallow breaths. Her thick thighs pressed against each other like she was trying to crush a watermelon.
It'd taken ever scrap of courage she could muster to come in and make that offer. You could tell she was hoping it'd make her feel a little less like a weapon and a little more like a girl. Like someone loved and cherished.
How could you say no?
"Thank you, Riley." you pushed your seat back from your desk. "I'd love that."
She blinked and looked at you. Her body somehow more tense than before. For a moment she didn't trust her own ears. She looked at you like a rifle with a long hang-fire. A silence more deafening than any gunshot. "Really?" she asked, voice equal parts relief and disbelief.
"Yeah," you said. "Riley, I can tell this means a lot to you. I wouldn't say no even if I want to." You glanced to her thighs. Those big hefty chonkers that could sprint a marathon or crush a watermelon with equal ability. Like twin panthers lurking under her overstuffed thigh-highs. "And I don't."
Riley smiled. She was still nervous, but all those wound-up emotions were rapidly spilling out into simple undirected energy. "G-great! Um…" she hopped off your desk, her tiny miniskirt fluttering with the suddenness of the motion. You caught a glimpse of her swooshing hip, but the magic triangle was concealed by the angle. "Here."
She settled against a wall, her back nice and straight. You had to give it to Genotech, the girls all had excellent posture. She smiled at you and patted her thighs. "I'd braid your hair, but…"
You laughed and settled onto the floor beside her. Never in your life have you wanted so badly to be a long-haired hippy. You gingerly lowered your head onto her waiting lap. Honestly, you didn't expect it to be that comfortable. Riley was above all an athlete. Her body was incredibly lean. Her abs were more defined after a hearty meal than yours ever were. You were expecting to rest your head on toned muscle, but not much else.
You were half right. You could tell just by touch that Riley could kill a man with her thighs. Great ropes of corded muscle lay sleeping under the surface. You could tell she was strong, lean, quick as a cobra and twice as deadly. But somehow her lap was soft too. Like rebar dipped in jello.
She smelled good too. Baked goods. Fresh cornbread drizzled in honey. You closed your eyes and melted into her creamy thighs like a little pat of butter on a warm Sunday afternoon.
"Thanks, Boss." Riley ran her fingers through your brush cut. You weren't sure who was getting more therepudic value out of this. "Uh… if you were one of my girls, I'd sing you a lullaby or…"
She blushed. You still had your eyes closed, but you could tell. There was more heat coming off her skin, and her hips were fidgeting in that nervous way. "I'm… Sorry. Uh… Just… I think I'm too used to being the team mom."
She let out a laugh that sounded more like a cough. "I'm twenty four you know," she said glumly. "My birthday's in a few months too" She sighed and kept running her hands through your hair. "I've always been the responsible one. The one taking care of everyone else."
She shifted her legs, jostling your head a little. "I'm not too old, am I? I mean… for you… for this…?"
>Wat do?
Last edited:
- Location
- rochester New York
[X] Nope
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
I see the implications behind the pronouns.
I have yet to give a fuck after all this time.
[X]Nope