this is katie's fanfiction blog. i write about animated movies and original characters. feel free to send in prompts!!! with the understanding that they may or may not be taken, depending on my workload. i love getting prompts.
Hi! Just wanted to ask if you're planning to continue your Travelling By Ambulance (Big Hero 6) fanfiction? It's okay if you don't, as a writer I would completely understand it. I was just wondering cause it's been a long time since you last updated. Again, I don't want to force you! I love everything you write xxx
i’m sorry, i’m not continuing it. i’ve said this multiple times, but it would take a lot more research and time to complete than i’m willing to give. plus, i just don’t think i’m one of those writers that has it in me to write long multi chap fics haha. sorry! thanks a lot though!
So glad I found one of my favorite tanunatsu writers here! I've been reading your works in ao3 (repeatedly). Cold Hands is absolutely heart-wrenching, from how bad Natsume distance himself from Tanuma (to keep him safe, c'mon), causing Tanuma feeling like he's an inadequate friend (ahem, bf), and to the fact that he's actually secretly jealous of Natori! To top it of you end the story beautifully too! I love the domestic-established relationship tanatsu too! it's just like how they should've be!
OH MY GOD??? what an absolutely lovely message to read :’) i’m so so so glad you liked it!! thanks so much for your kind words! this made me so happy omg you have no idea
Sticking a landing will royally fuck up your joints and possibly shatter your ankles, depending on how high you’re jumping/falling from. There’s a very good reason free-runners dive and roll.
Hand-to-hand fights usually only last a matter of seconds, sometimes a few minutes. It’s exhausting work and unless you have a lot of training and history with hand-to-hand combat, you’re going to tire out really fast.
Arrows are very effective and you can’t just yank them out without doing a lot of damage. Most of the time the head of the arrow will break off inside the body if you try pulling it out, and arrows are built to pierce deep. An arrow wound demands medical attention.
Throwing your opponent across the room is really not all that smart. You’re giving them the chance to get up and run away. Unless you’re trying to put distance between you so you can shoot them or something, don’t throw them.
Everyone has something called a “flinch response” when they fight. This is pretty much the brain’s way of telling you “get the fuck out of here or we’re gonna die.” Experienced fighters have trained to suppress this. Think about how long your character has been fighting. A character in a fist fight for the first time is going to take a few hits before their survival instinct kicks in and they start hitting back. A character in a fist fight for the eighth time that week is going to respond a little differently.
ADRENALINE WORKS AGAINST YOU WHEN YOU FIGHT. THIS IS IMPORTANT. A lot of times people think that adrenaline will kick in and give you some badass fighting skills, but it’s actually the opposite. Adrenaline is what tires you out in a battle and it also affects the fighter’s efficacy - meaning it makes them shaky and inaccurate, and overall they lose about 60% of their fighting skill because their brain is focusing on not dying. Adrenaline keeps you alive, it doesn’t give you the skill to pull off a perfect roundhouse kick to the opponent’s face.
Swords WILL bend or break if you hit something hard enough. They also dull easily and take a lot of maintenance. In reality, someone who fights with a sword would have to have to repair or replace it constantly.
Fights get messy. There’s blood and sweat everywhere, and that will make it hard to hold your weapon or get a good grip on someone.
A serious battle also smells horrible. There’s lots of sweat, but also the smell of urine and feces. After someone dies, their bowels and bladder empty. There might also be some questionable things on the ground which can be very psychologically traumatizing. Remember to think about all of the character’s senses when they’re in a fight. Everything WILL affect them in some way.
ARCHERS ARE STRONG TOO. Have you ever drawn a bow? It takes a lot of strength, especially when you’re shooting a bow with a higher draw weight. Draw weight basically means “the amount of force you have to use to pull this sucker back enough to fire it.” To give you an idea of how that works, here’s a helpful link to tell you about finding bow sizes and draw weights for your characters. (CLICK ME)
If an archer has to use a bow they’re not used to, it will probably throw them off a little until they’ve done a few practice shots with it and figured out its draw weight and stability.
People bleed. If they get punched in the face, they’ll probably get a bloody nose. If they get stabbed or cut somehow, they’ll bleed accordingly. And if they’ve been fighting for a while, they’ve got a LOT of blood rushing around to provide them with oxygen. They’re going to bleed a lot.
Here’s a link to a chart to show you how much blood a person can lose without dying. (CLICK ME)
If you want a more in-depth medical chart, try this one. (CLICK ME)
Hopefully this helps someone out there. If you reblog, feel free to add more tips for writers or correct anything I’ve gotten wrong here.
ok but like when did self-sacrifice become synonymous with death? writers seem to have forgotten that people can make personal sacrifices for the greater good without giving their lives. plots about self-sacrifice and selflessness don’t always have to end in death. suffering doesn’t have to be mourning. you can create drama and emotional depth on your show without killing everyone. learn to explore the meaning of living rather than dying
Fun things to sacrifice for your loved ones in your free time that don’t include death and actually set up for a whole new season of high level drama:
- humanity (mostly applicable to sci-fi/supernatural genre)
- memories (mostly applicable to sci-fi/supernatural genre)
- love for that special someone (mostly applicable to sci-fi/supernatural genre)
- emotions (mostly applicable to sci-fi/supernatural genre)
- rank/position/
- yourself/your brain/your skills (give yourself over to bad guys and become their brainwashed agent so your loved ones live)
- years of bloody ruthless traditions to make way for peace (hi lexa and fuck jroth tbh)
- freedom (includes that of speech/mind/will)
- your grandpa’s fortune
- hell even material possessions have that girl sacrifice her goddamn house so they can pay off her gf’s student loans or whatever juST STOP KILLING CHARACTERS TO FURTHER YOUR PLOT
The question I get the most is how I write characters that feel like real people.
Generally when I’m designing a human being, I deconstruct them into 7 major categories:
1. Primary Drive
2. Fear: Major and Secondary
3. Physical Desires
4. Style of self expression
5. How they express affection
6. What controls them (what they are weak for)
7. What part of them will change.
1. Primary Drive: This is generally related to the plot. What are their plot related goals? How are they pulling the plot forward? how do they make decisions? What do they think they’re doing and how do they justify doing it.
2. Fear: First, what is their deep fear? Abandonment? being consumed by power? etc. Second: tiny fears. Spiders. someone licking their neck. Small things that bother them. At least 4.
3. Physical desires. How they feel about touch. What is their perceived sexual/romantic orientation. Do their physical desires match up with their psychological desires.
4. Style of self expression: How they talk. Are they shy? Do they like to joke around and if so, how? Are they anxious or confident internally and how do they express that externally. What do words mean to them? More or less than actions? Does their socioeconomic background affect the way they present themselves socially?
5. How they express affection: Do they express affection through actions or words. Is expressing affection easy for them or not. How quickly do they open up to someone they like. Does their affection match up with their physical desires. how does the way they show their friends that they love them differ from how they show a potential love interest that they love them. is affection something they struggle with?
6. What controls them (what they are weak for): what are they almost entirely helpless against. What is something that influences them regardless of their own moral code. What– if driven to the end of the wire— would they reject sacrificing. What/who would they cut off their own finger for. What would they kill for, if pushed. What makes them want to curl up and never go outside again from pain. What makes them sink to their knees from weakness or relief. What would make them weep tears of joy regardless where they were and who they were in front of.
7. WHAT PART OF THEM WILL CHANGE: people develop over time. At least two of the above six categories will be altered by the storyline–either to an extreme or whittled down to nothing. When a person experiences trauma, their primary fear may change, or how they express affection may change, etc. By the time your book is over, they should have developed. And its important to decide which parts of them will be the ones that slowly get altered so you can work on monitoring it as you write. making it congruent with the plot instead of just a reaction to the plot.
That’s it.
But most of all, you have to treat this like you’re developing a human being. Not a “character” a living breathing person. When you talk, you use their voice. If you want them to say something and it doesn’t seem like (based on the seven characteristics above) that they would say it, what would they say instead?
If they must do something that’s forced by the plot, that they wouldn’t do based on their seven options, they can still do the thing, but how would they feel internally about doing it?
How do their seven characteristics meet/ meld with someone else’s seven and how will they change each other?
Once you can come up with all the answers to all of these questions, you begin to know your character like you’d know one of your friends. When you can place them in any AU and know how they would react.
omg if you want tanatsu prompts here are a few: 1. established relationship and Extreme Domesticity. 2. theme park dates! ferris wheels, haunted houses, roller coasters!!! 3. MEET THE PARENTS (once dating) and 4. being that one ridiculously happy couple that their friends complain about but they love it
oh my gosh i might just go down the list but for now here’s #1. i hope this suffices for domesticity…. i got a bit carried away.
–
Natsume pushes the front door open with more force than strictly necessary and tosses the shopping bag onto the counter without even looking in his rush. When he reaches the bedroom door, he has to remind himself to calm down and enter quietly, but it’s hard when he’s so anxious. It takes more self control than he wants to admit to open the door slowly and poke his head in.
“Kaname?”
In the sliver of light that cuts across the dark room, he sees Tanuma shift under the heavy quilt and a mop of dark, messy hair emerges from under it. Two midnight eyes blink at him sleepily. “Hey.”
Tanuma’s back aches. He’s not sure how long he’s been sitting in this hard plastic chair, bent over with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands and his gaze trained on the marbled white floor. Nishimura, Kitamoto, and Sasada have come and gone multiple times. Taki comes as often as she can. Tanuma leaves only when absolutely necessary.
It’s probably not healthy. The Fujiwaras have told him multiple times to go home and rest properly, eat properly, but he can’t do that even when he does leave. He hasn’t been able to eat more than a few bites at a time for the past couple of weeks. Sometimes his father comes to bring clothes and food, and Tanuma’s grateful, but he can’t bring himself to care about such trivial things. Everyone’s worried for obvious reasons, but they also seem to be increasingly concerned for his wellbeing. He can see it in the ever-deepening creases in his father’s face, in Taki’s eyes when she asks him how he’s holding up, in the way Touko sometimes lays a hand on his shoulder and doesn’t say a word. He’s lost weight. He can’t sleep.
It’s definitely not healthy. But despite what anyone says, his health seems pretty irrelevant these days. He hates to worry everyone, but not enough to put up the exhausting pretense of being hungry or spending time twiddling his thumbs at home instead of where he’s currently sitting.
He doesn’t mention the fact that he’s getting headaches often. That most likely means Natsume has company checking up on him, and with both Touko and Ponta stationed in the room Tanuma doesn’t have much reason to worry about any ill-willed spirits. No need to worry anyone beyond what’s inevitable.
The door opens and a pair of small feet make their way over to him. He lifts his head at Touko’s soft touch and is greeted by her weary, smiling face.
“Takashi’s awake,” she says. “He’s asking for you.”
Tanuma swallows and nods. Of course, he’s at Natsume’s beck and call. Whatever he wants.
When Tanuma enters the room, he still looks pale and drawn and slightly out of it due to the drugs pumping into him constantly. He’d like to think that some color has returned to Natsume’s face in the past few weeks, but he really can’t make that much of distinction.
Tanuma’s heart falls, but he puts on his brightest smile. “Hey.”
Natsume returns the smile wearily and closes his eyes when Tanuma bends down to kiss his forehead. “Hey.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired. But I’m okay.”
The usual answer. Tanuma frowns.
“Really,” Natsume says. “I’m not in any pain. I promise.”
“Good.” Tanuma pulls up the chair that Touko vacated and drops into it heavily.
“How are you?”
“I’m just fine.”
Now Natsume frowns. “You don’t look like it. You look exhausted.”
“You don’t need to worry about me.” He covers Natsume’s cool hand where it’s lying on the sheets with his own and drags his thumb over his knuckles. “I promise I’m okay.”
“You’re not not sleeping because of me, are you?”
And of course, of course Natsume would be thinking about that. He’s probably been lying in this bed for the past few weeks thinking of all the people and spirits he could’ve been helping instead, beating himself into guilt even though this is a time he really needs to be thinking about himself.
Tanuma shakes his head, a pang hitting his chest for telling a blatant lie. “I just told you not to worry about me.”
“You know that’s never stopped me.”
Tanuma just breathes out a sigh. He wants to be able to take better care of himself, for Natsume’s sake, but he just does not have the capacity to eat or sleep or function properly right now. Maybe he will gain it back one day, but that day is far off.
“Do you know when you’ll be able to go home yet?” he asks in a near-whisper.
“Maybe in a few more weeks,” Natsume answers in a voice just as soft. “I’m starting therapy soon.”
It feels like something is squeezing Tanuma’s chest on the inside. “L-let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Natsume smiles, and the fabric of his hospital gown rises and falls gently with his chest as he breathes. “Just your being here is enough.”
Tanuma nods dejectedly. He’s so damn useless. “Yeah, but if there’s anything else—”
“I’ll let you know.”
And then, to Tanuma’s horror, he feels a tear slip from the corner of his eye and cascade down the plane of his cheek.
“Hey, hey.” Natsume’s hand comes up to cradle the side of his face and he looks so tremendously concerned and Tanuma doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. “What’s the matter?”
“I—” He feels so ill. None of this should have ever happened. “I couldn’t stop it.”
“Kaname…” Natsume shifts, like he’s trying to sit up to get closer, but he grunts softly and falls back against the stack of pillows propping him up. “There was nothing you could have done. You know that, right?”
Logically, yes, of course he knows that. But he can’t stop seeing it, can’t stop feeling frozen and powerless. He wipes at the moisture that keeps leaking from his eyes. “I—yes, I know. I’m sorry. You don’t need this from me right now.” He’s being selfish, acting like this. Natsume is the one who needs comforting.
The blond boy stares at him with deep sadness welling in his penny-colored eyes, opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then closes it again. Neither one of them are very good with words. And they’re both terrible in these kinds of situations.
“I’m here for you,” Tanuma says after a long pause. He feels the farthest he’s ever been from strong right now, but strong is what Natsume needs him to be. So he’ll do his best. “Whatever you need, I’m right here. I’m going to take care of you.” I’ll protect you better from now on.
These words only seem to make Natsume sadder. His head falls forward until his bangs hide his eyes and he whispers, “Thank you.”
Tanuma’s brow creases further. “What’s wrong?” A stupid question, but he can’t help but ask it.
“I just…” His voice shakes a little. “What am I supposed to do now, Kaname? I can’t—I spend so much time running from spirits and now I—” He brings his hands up to press at his eyes. “I’m going to put everyone in danger. They’ll keep coming for me and I can’t get away from them anymore. They’ll come to my house…they’ll come in my house… Wh-what am I supposed to do?”
Tanuma’s been waiting for this, truthfully. Ever since they found out, he’s been sitting around thinking about it. About how Natsume would feel powerless and vulnerable and everything he hates being. He still hasn’t come up with the right words to make him feel better. “I guess…Ponta’s really going to have his work cut out for him, yeah?” He laughs a bit, but it’s devoid of humor. There’s no way to make this better. “Couldn’t you, you know, get other spirits to help? To guard your house and keep the bad ones away?”
“Not without the—” Natsume cuts himself off, suddenly, and starts over. “No. I could try, but the ones I could ask would be just as bad at it as Nyanko-sensei. Spirits aren’t really…protective.”
Tanuma wants to say that Ponta seems plenty protective, but Natsume knows better than him.
His eyes fall to the bedclothes, and he sees Natsume’s hands trembling in his lap. He must be scared out of his mind. Tanuma reaches out to run a hand soothingly up and down his arm. “It’s going to be okay, Takashi. We’ll—we’ll see if Taki knows anything that can help. We’ll call Natori. There’s got to be things we can do. We’re not going to let anything happen to you or the Fujiwaras.”
Natsume only nods, and Tanuma knows his mind isn’t ever going to be at ease again. He begins to shake even harder, so Tanuma climbs into the bed beside him and wraps his arms around him when Natsume buries his face in his chest and starts to cry. “I can’t—” He hiccups. “How am I supposed to protect you when I can’t walk?”
There’s nothing Tanuma can do. His heart is breaking into a million pieces and Natsume is hurting and there’s nothing he can do. He doesn’t have spiritual power strong enough to make a difference, to protect him. He couldn’t stop the spirit from tackling Natsume right off a cliff, couldn’t stop his back from breaking, can’t give him back feeling in his legs.
He’s utterly and completely useless.
All he can do is hold Natsume and pepper the top of his head with kisses and try to bring him whatever comfort he can. He laments, not for the first time, that he was not gifted with the ability to see spirits too. Then maybe he could help make this situation a little bit better.
Eventually Natsume’s sobbing dies down and he pushes away from Tanuma, rubbing an arm across his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m so scared.”
And this is exactly why Natsume can’t know that Tanuma is terrified, that he hasn’t been eating or sleeping. He has to be the strong one right now. “I know. But it’s going to be alright, Takashi. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
There’s not much he can do to prevent disaster, and they both know it. If there were, Natsume wouldn’t be in this hospital bed. But Tanuma will still do everything he possibly can to make sure his precious boyfriend is safe.
Natsume only nods compliantly at this, and that’s concerning in and of itself. A month ago, he would have adamantly denied any protection Tanuma offered. Maybe it can be attributed to the painkillers pumping through his veins, but it doesn’t make Tanuma feel better.
“I think,” Natsume says, rubbing at his eye. “I think I want to sleep now.”
Tanuma swallows. He doesn’t say anything about how he hasn’t even been awake that long. Natsume mostly sleeps these days. “Okay. Yes, of course.”
He untangles his arm from around Natsume and slides off the bed. It’s routine at this point to help him lie back against the pillows in a way that doesn’t hurt his spine and recline the bed to the right angle. He makes sure Natsume is comfortable and that he doesn’t want anything before kissing him again and slinking to the other side of the room to wait until he falls asleep, which usually doesn’t take long.
When his breathing becomes gentle and even, Tanuma pokes the wad of fur curled up in an armchair near the window. “Ponta. Wake up.”
“Eh?” The cat’s eyes blink open slowly and he lets loose a yawn too big for his little mouth. “What?”
“Natsume’s asleep. Keep watch.”
Ponta sighs. “Man, this is such a pain. No spirits are going to try anything here.”
“Maybe not, but you still need to be sharp.” Tanuma’s chest still feels tight. “Natsume needs to know he can count on you now more than ever. You shouldn’t ever leave him for anything.”
“I always do my job.” He haughtily sticks his nose in the air. “I don’t appreciate your insolence.”
Tanuma glares, anger stirring up in his belly. “If you always did your job, Natsume wouldn’t be here right now.”
“It’s his own fault.” But his eyes slide away and he hunches into himself a little more. “I’m sure he’s learned his lesson by now.”
Sometimes it’s really, really hard not to hit this self-proclaimed bodyguard. Tanuma grits his teeth and his hand fists on his pants.
“But I’ll keep watch, if it’ll make the both of you stop nagging me.”
Ever since Natsume was brought to the hospital, the lucky cat has been more grumpy than usual and he’s stuck closer to Natsume’s side. He’s been more aggressive and defensive of himself than ever, but Tanuma thinks it’s probably because he feels guilty for what happened. He hopes one day Ponta will get over his pride and actually be the protector Natsume definitely needs, but he’s not holding his breath. Since the accident, though, at least he’s been a little more serious about keeping Natsume safe.
“Good.” Tanuma stands. “I’ll bring you a meat bun later.”
Ponta’s eyes light up, but he doesn’t express approval beyond that. Probably, Tanuma thinks, in consideration of his sleeping ward.
“Come get me when he wakes up,” he says, and then slips out the door as quietly as he entered.
Out in the hall, he immediately feels like crying. He hates seeing Natsume like this—so weak and broken and terrified. He hates this hospital. Even after Natsume is discharged, things can’t go back to the way they were before. It’s not fair. After everything he’s put up with, Natsume doesn’t deserve this.
“Here.”
Touko has approached him. She’s holding out packaged food and he still feels queasy at the thought of eating, but he can’t deny it when she’s standing there with such a hopeful, caring smile.
He takes it and tries to smile back. “Thank you.”
“I want to watch you eat it. All of it.”
His smile falls. He’s been around Touko enough to know how far her motherliness will go, and that there’s very little chance he can argue his way out of this. He follows her to a row of chairs and sinks down into one. “I’m not sure that I can.”
Touko’s eyes are so soft and caring. “Well, at least try. For Takashi. He keeps asking to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”
And Tanuma nods, because trying is the least he can do for Natsume.
Touko runs a hand across the expanse of his back. “It will be okay, Kaname-kun. I know it may not seem like it right now, but things will go back to normal eventually. Time heals everything.”
He wants to shake his head, tell her she’s wrong, because she doesn’t know about the hardships Natsume faces behind her back, the ones he’ll never be rid of no matter how much time passes.
He nods again instead. Because this is what they do; they pretend everything is okay for the people around them and for each other. They’re both good at hiding things, and it’s probably more damaging than helpful but Tanuma has no illusions about Natsume realizing that anytime soon.
He’s scared that things will never be okay again. Natsume is convinced they won’t be.
A bolt of pain zaps through his head at the same time a shadow flashes by the window, but it’s gone before he can react to it. Maybe Natsume is right.
As someone who writes fics with action sequences and the use of guns, I thought maybe it would be helpful to pass some things on. Even though I’ve done lots of research and talked with family members (I live in WI which is a big hunting state and we have lots of guns), I still catch myself making mistakes with specific terms and their usage. Reading more James Bond fics lately, I catch others making mistakes also. So here is a little guide to help writers.
A ‘clip’ is something that stores multiple rounds of ammunition. It is not what you would insert into a handgun to load it. Clips make loading into a magazine easier because they simply store the rounds. It helps with organization.
A magazine is what feeds the ammunition into the barrel. Magazines vary in capacity. They, unlike clips, are spring-loaded, which helps the ammunition move in the gun. So, when you want a character to reload, they would use a pre-loaded magazine, NOT a clip.
A silencer is really a suppressor. ‘Silencer’ is a word that’s used in media to refer to a suppressor that doesn’t exist in real life. Guns that are suppressed will still be loud and have a sound. This is because compressed air will still leak out of the end of the barrel, you can’t silence a bullet moving extremely fast through the air, and you can’t silence the mechanical parts on a gun. There will be a noise, but it just won’t be as loud or more importantly, alert people in a nearby area that a gun was just fired. SO suppressor is a much more accurate term technically speaking.
There are different kinds of suppressors. One important kind suppresses the muzzle flash. It’s likely a sniper would use this more than they would want to use a sound suppressor, as the muzzle flash more easily enables you to be spotted when you don’t want to be. These are simply referred to as flash suppressors.
After a handgun runs out of ammunition, the slide will lock back into place and you will know that it is out. There is no ‘click’ signifying an empty weapon that is so dramatized in movies and tv. A more likely scenario that would prevent a gun from firing would be a jam. Or programming the gun to recognize certain palm prints.
A great place for writers, in particular fanfic writers, who want information on guns is imfdb. You can find out what guns are used in movies and shows, and what guns characters use. You can also just search for guns.
If you want to get really specific, check out YouTube. There are users who will post reviews of guns on there, which can be really helpful if you want to see how a particular gun looks or how to shoot it.
So yeah! Here are just a few basic tips if you want to write a fic where a character uses guns.
I see you’ve got terminology down, now let’s go for a little technicality.
Firstly, let me explain the “kick” of a gun. A “kick” is the feeling of the round leaving the barrel of the gun. Every gun has one, the impact of the “kick” depends on the caliber, make and type of gun.
Another way to describe a kick is the feeling of the gun exploding in your hand. Of course, the gun doesn’t literally explode, but it is a great burst of power that only lasts a second.
For example: A .45 mm hand gun with have a bigger “kick” than a .22 mm hand gun. If someone is a first time shooter and does not know what to expect, they would most likely drop the gun after firing it once due to the shock of the force being released in their hands.
Sniper Rifles are incredibly accurate and mainly used for long distance hits. They are also ridiculously heavy, as most rifles are, therefore, be prepared for a gigantic “kick”.
Sniper Rifles are special because they are so powerful (they need to be in order to have the same impact a .45mm would 10 feet away compared to the shell half a mile away), thus a stand is required to use it.
No matter what you will always need a firm holding to place the rifle (besides your grip) in order to prevent the gun from falling over after it is discharged and injury to your person. There are ridiculously powerful guns.
General rule of thumb is that you place the butt of the rifle next to your shoulder, just below your clavicle. I’m not very good at describing this position, so I suggest looking it up. DO NOT place it anywhere in the armpit area, dislocation is likely to occur. Depending on how prepare you are and the type of rifle being used (excluding snipers), bruising might occur.
You will be standing if you use a normal rifle, so make sure you are steady and prepared for the “kick” that follows after.
If you are using a sniper rifle, you will be on the ground or leaning against something. Some people have special rests for their snipers specifically to fire the gun from any spot. Point is: do not stand alone while firing this. You will get hurt.
Other helpful tips:
Earplugs or Ear Protectors are your friends.
Safety glasses are also your friend to avoid shells from flying into your face.
Keep the safety on until you are ready to fire the gun.
If you are NOT currently firing the gun, whether it is loaded or unloaded, and it is in your hand, ALWAYS hold it with two hands and point it at the ground at your feet. DO NOT get distracted.
NEVER joke around with someone by pointing the gun at them. EVEN IF YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY POSITIVE THAT THE GUN IS TOTALLY UNLOADED, MAGAZINE OUT OF PLACE, DO NOT RISK IT. It is not funny. Even if the gun is on safety, do NOT do it. You could accidently switch off the safety or the gun could misfire despite the safety.
Lastly TWO HANDS. One on the side near the trigger and the other underneath. This is not the movies, do not attempt to fire a gun with one hand. Not only will your aim be incredibly off if you are inexperienced but you will also endanger yourself as well as others if you lose control of it.
Guns can be scary and if you ever feel nervous or uncomfortable about firing one, do not do it.
A few things I have to add to this:
The caliber of a round is usually measured in either millimeters or in hundredths of an inch. One “unit” of caliber, I guess, is one one-hundredth of an inch. For example, a 45-caliber round has a .45 inch diameter (which is why it’s called a .45). DO NOT CONFUSE THIS WITH MILLIMETERS. .45 mm is NOT 45-caliber.
Common cartridges measured in millimeters with their respective calibers:
Rifles:
5.56mm = ~.223 caliber
7.62mm = ~.300 caliber
12.7mm = ~.500 caliber
Handguns:
5.64mm = .22 caliber*
9mm* = .354 caliber
10.16mm = .40 caliber*
11.43mm = .45 caliber*
(*the measurement you’re more likely to see for each cartridge.)
In the case of rifles, cartridges meant for civilian use are usually designated as .223, .300, .308, etc. Designations such as 5.56mm, 7.62mm, etc. are usually indicative of military-grade ammunition. This is not always true, but usually that’s how it is.
Military-grade bullets are held to higher standards and typically cause more stress on the internal mechanism, and the guns they’re meant for are built to handle that. They can also handle civilian ammunition. It doesn’t work the other way around, however. Do not attempt to use military-grade ammunition in a civilian-model firearm that hasn’t been modified to handle it.
A few different kinds of cartridges:
- Full metal jacket, which gives increased penetration capabilities but doesn’t do much in the ways of expansion. Risky to use in situations with a lot of innocents around, as often they can over-penetrate and go on to hurt someone behind the target.
- Hollow-points, which expand like crazy when they hit something, causing massive internal damage to their target. Outlawed in warfare under the Hague Convention of 1899, but can be used by civilians.
- Soft-points, which serve as a happy medium between the penetration capabilities of full metal jacket rounds and the expansion of hollow-point rounds.
- Shot, usually rat-shot or snake-shot, which can be fit in bullets and used to kill small vermin at close range without doing a whole lot of damage to the surrounding area.
- Sub-sonic, which have a lower muzzle velocity and effective range, but will decrease the chance of overpenetration. This is also the ideal ammo choice for weapons fitted with suppressors, as subsonic rounds avoid the “crack” of a sonic boom that other bullets can make upon leaving the barrel.
do you mind writing a Frozen AU blurb for bh6 hiro and tadashi? :)
YOO
–
Tadashi’s coronation was beautiful. Hiro watched from the side and clapped politely with everyone else, but he was beaming with pride for his brother. He’d always known Tadashi would make a great king.
The party wasn’t all that great. It was fun at the beginning, but the crowded banquet hall quickly got to be too warm and part of him wanted to retreat from the mass of finely dressed guests. It was worth staying, though, when Cass took his hand and told him to stand beside his brother as they announced the king and the prince.
“Are you sure?” He suddenly felt timid. “I don’t think I’m supposed to–” Cass gave him a firm shove and a sharp glare to keep him in place. “Oh–okay.”
The crowd applauded, and he felt out of place. When he glanced at Tadashi, all he saw was his brother’s profile, calm and collected and regal–everything it was supposed to be. He tried not to stare, really, but he didn’t get to see that face very often. When Tadashi’s eyes flitted over to him, he cleared his throat awkwardly and ran a hand over the back of his neck.
Then Tadashi was smiling at him, leaning forward a bit as if to catch his eye. “Hi.”
Hiro only blinked back.
“You look nice.” Tadashi’s voice was deep and warm. The cape was draped perfectly around his shoulders and his crown sat at just the right angle on his head and Hiro felt that familiar intimidation flare up again.
Who was he compared to this perfect picture of a prince? No, not even a prince anymore—Tadashi was a king now. A king who was apparently too good to pay his little brother any mind.
Still, Hiro found himself saying, “Thanks. S-so do you.”
“Nice party, huh?” Tadashi went on to say, something akin to wonder in his eyes when he looked out on the sea of people.
“Yeah, I guess.” He didn’t think it was all that great. He was much more interested in the mystery standing next to him. “Are you staying the whole time?”
Tadashi looked surprised at that question. “Yes, of course. It would be rude not to.”
Hiro nodded and chewed his lip. He had to say it now–they probably wouldn’t get another moment alone that night. “So–are things gonna be different now? That you’re king.”
His brother tilted his head to the side. “Different, how?”
“Are we–” Hiro looked back down at his feet, tugging at his pant leg. “Am I gonna be able to see you more?”
Tadashi’s warm smile faded into a frown, and Hiro’s heart sank to his feet. “Hiro…I can’t. I’m sorry.”
His hands balled into fists. “You can’t or you won’t?”
“Hiro, don’t do this–”
“Excuse me.”
And with that, he stepped off the platform and melted into the crowd. Tadashi’s rejections always hurt so much, but he never wanted his brother to see it. He never wanted Tadashi to know how much he looked up to him, and how badly it crushed him every time he was brushed off.
He just wanted to know that his brother missed him as much as he missed his brother.
Baymax activates immediately when Tadashi rushes in a bleeding, wailing Hiro. Tadashi had kind of been hoping he wouldn’t need to use the robot at home, but at the same time the scientist inside him is curious to see how his project will treat someone as small as Hiro (the injury isn’t too bad, so that’s not really what he’s concerned with).
The small boy’s crying is quelled a bit just by the appearance of the big white robot. He blinks large brown eyes, and a few fat tears roll down his cheeks. Tadashi places a solid, reassuring hand on the boy’s back and says, “Baymax is going to fix your boo-boo. You remember Baymax, right?”
Hiro nods, a series of hiccup-y sobs shaking his tiny frame.
Tadashi sits back and watches as Baymax conducts his scan and announces the obvious scrape and bruising on Hiro’s chin. “Recommended treatment: application of a topical antibiotic and a bandage.” He proceeds to apply both, and Hiro thankfully doesn’t start screaming again when puffy vinyl fingers gently touch his wound.
“You have been a good boy,” Baymax says when he finishes the treatment. “Have a lollipop.”
Hiro’s face lights up when the robot produces a bright red sucker. His little fingers reach for it immediately and hand the candy to Tadashi to unwrap.
Tadashi smiles warmly, a bit of pride swelling in his chest for both his invention working the way he intended and for his brother being so brave. When he hands the sucker back to Hiro, the boy pops it in his mouth and practically throws himself at Baymax. His arms barely reach the bottom of the robot’s body, but he hugs it as best he can.
hi, how's this for a prompt? the pov/time where kanan was following kasmir, perhaps from both pov, kasmir knew he was being followed and unknowing to kanan/caleb he helps him, same with kanan, taking out a threat to kasmir, your fic was really good, I would love to see more, hope your hiatus is going well, if only I could get peach(?)
thanks!! i’m working on the next installment but i’ll see what i can do with this
obviously kasmir's gotta get hurt, perhap running from a trade gone bad, kasmir get's hurt coupled with a bad storm coming in, caleb doing his best to help, it's so cliche, it's so perfect or caleb get's lost following kasmir, he looks for the kid, only 1 possible place to look left red light district! finds him being pulled in by some workers !!! NOT TODAY HE'S JUST A BABY various other time like keeping him from like drinking 'you can't do that we gotta focus on our job pfft obviously' &! au's
i love how this started out with “obviously kasmir’s gotta get hurt” i couldn’t agree more :))) thanks for the prompt!
a/n: this is just a snippet from a fic that i may or may not (probably won’t) finish, but i wanted to go ahead and share because last semester @murphystarr and i shared a bunch of headcanons for a bh6 homeless au and i have a whole story mapped out and even though i haven’t worked on it in a while i still love the au to bits
--
“Hey. Are you gonna sulk here all night?”
A girl with short, feathery hair, a strip of purple swaying in the cold breeze. Light from the streetlamp glows behind her, chiseling out her short, sturdy silhouette and the bike she has gripped in two hands. The effect is almost angelic, except Tadashi knows better.
“GoGo?”
When he raises his face, her eyes narrow even more. She leans the bike against the lamp and drops into a crouch in front of him. “Shit. What happened? Did you face-plant into the street?”
He gives a dry, mirthless laugh. “Yeah. Actually.” More or less.
GoGo huffs. “Who’d you piss off?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He wipes his nose, spits out blood.
Her gaze is heavy. He can feel the disapproval burning through the top of his head. She shifts, sits beside him on the curb which means she doesn’t plan on leaving soon. Her trainers are scuffed and he can smell the dried sweat. “Do you actually go looking for fights, or do people just really like to punch you for some reason?”
“You should know the answer to that.”
She socks him with her fist, not too hard, but it lands on his wrenched shoulder. He can’t help the grunt and the grimace at the pain, and GoGo has the tact to look sorry.
“Are you okay?” she asks, brows furrowed, which is the closest she’ll come to showing concern.
“‘M fine.”
“Where’s Hiro?”
Tadashi waves a hand, the bloodied one. “The pit. Least, he’s s’posed to be.”
Her face darkens even more. Someone who doesn’t know her would probably think she was angry. “You can’t go back to him like this.”
Tadashi lets go a shuddering breath. “I know that. I’m trying to figure something out.”
GoGo purses her thin lips, eyes darting off and he can tell she’s contemplating something. “Have you had dinner?”
Another humorless laugh shakes his shoulders. He can’t bring himself to explain what happened right now. “No.”
“Well.” With a sigh through her nose, she heaves herself up and stretches out a hand to him. “Hurry up, then. I’d really like to get home as soon as possible.”
—-
Maybe, in a way, GoGo is kind of like an angel. An impatient, grumpy angel. About the kind of angel Tadashi would be graced with, if the heavens inexplicably decided he deserved one. But he’s not about to be picky about that.
She doesn’t do much more than let him pick out some food and first-aid at the corner mart and make sure his injuries don’t warrant professional attention, doesn’t stick around to clean and bandage his scrapes, but that’s fine. He’d be embarrassed if she did anything more. She grumbled about not making curfew and repercussions while she fished change out of her pocket and ended their encounter with a harsh, “Don’t get used to this, Hamada.”
He’s not so foolish anymore.
After they bid each other goodnight, he watches her zip down the road on her sleek ten-speed until she hops a curb, rounds a corner, and disappears. Then he descends into the subway station, keeping his eyes on the concrete steps washed an indeterminate green by the too-bright fluorescents.
He aches. His shoulder throbs more prominently than anything and he can feel the tender bruising on his face swell uncomfortably. There’s dried blood on his hands, his clothes, his face. He isn’t sure what to expect when he looks into the dirty mirror in the men’s room, but he didn’t think there’d be so much blood. None of it’s fresh, but it stains his chin and teeth and lips and the harsh bathroom lights wash out his complexion. Or maybe he really is that pale. Darkness is gathering under his eyes, ugly yellowing-green smudged around his left cheekbone. His jaw looks lopsided.
He hates that he has to go back to Hiro like this again.
At least he has food. The night could’ve turned out a lot worse than getting a little banged up and receiving some charity.
He reaches into the plastic bag and his fingers brush something unexpectedly cold. He pauses, then pulls it out. A bag of frozen peas that he didn’t tell GoGo to buy. She must’ve slipped it in without him noticing. A tired smile flits across his split lips.
He scrubs the blood off first with a wad of paper towels dampened under the freezing water leaking out of the faucet. Then he smears Neosporin over the cuts on his face and his split-open knuckles, and wraps them carefully with as little gauze and band-aids as possible to conserve the precious supplies. There’s no way he can make his appearance any less alarming until the swelling recedes and the bruises fade.
He jumps a late-night tram toward the slums and halfway hopes Hiro’s asleep when he gets there.
