#lax gun laws

[surgeonssturgeon]

Next time Trump even steps a SINGLE little fascist tootsie outside of his Oval Office I expect to see bullets people, STAT 💜

[beingatoaster]

thinking about the fact that the neighbor of our new barn is a MAGA hyper-evangelist and we're mostly flaming liberals and. what if I renewed my concealed-carry permit

[saaraofthesand]

(I’m a US American) reading a fic that’s set in New York but it’s translated from another language and the author must not be American because they described guns as something not just anyone could buy and it’s so horrible that I clocked it as an inaccuracy immediately because most Americans can just buy a gun. In the state I live in, my 16 year old brother could go legally buy himself a rifle if he felt like it. This country is a literal nightmare.

[roguelemon]

Need to make some friends who can teach me different types of weaponry. Either that or somebody who can tell me how to become one of those medieval weaponry influencers without sacrificing my life savings for a set of decent blades.

[charles-smith-pillow-princess]

(LH!Arthur/Charles, same AU as heaven knows, Explicit)

John’s gun shop heist in Saint Denis went about as well as all the gang’s jobs had been going, recently. Sour and ugly, ending with Charles and Arthur crouching behind a stack of crates after ducking into a dockside warehouse to escape the pursuing lawmen. 

Arthur hunched up behind Charles, pressed low as Charles dared a peek around the corner. “They gone?”

Charles nodded, intent as the last blue-suited lawman rounded the corner. “Think they’re heading for the train station.”

“Good.” Sneaky fingers crept from Charles’ waist down the join of his hip, smoothing against the sweat-damp front of his trousers. 

Charles smacked at Arthur’s hands, huffing when the cowboy just tightened his grip. Charles oofed as Arthur leaned more of his weight onto his back, pressing Charles’ chest to the heavy wooden crate. 

“The hell, Arthur—”

“Been a while since I checked ya,” Arthur cut him off, humping forward so the thick, hot line of his cock pressed against Charles’ ass. “You been behavin’, Mr. Smith?”

Charles’ ears burned as he shifted, humiliatingly aware of the thick, wooden plug inside him. He’d worn the damn thing for days now, as instructed—not that Arthur needed to know that.

Hot as it got him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to feed the outlaw’s already inflated confidence by letting him know Charles was actually going along with his perverted game. 

“Is now the time?” he hedged, shifting.

Arthur pressed closer, working a burly arm under Charles’ waist to thumb the buttons of his trousers open, proprietary. 

A deep, heady need swelled on Charles’ belly, warming him. The easy assurance of the gesture, the casual possessiveness of Arthur’s hand undoing his belt—

It felt good, despite it all. Being so wholly wanted.

“Ain’t like we’re goin’ nowhere,” Arthur drawled, sure fingers working Charles’ pants and drawers down over his ass to bunch at midthigh. “‘Sides, watching you work always gets my blood up. Thinkin’ we can work off some steam while we wait for the law to lose our scent.”

Charles swallowed, mouth dry as Arthur’s fingertips trailed up the bared skin of his inner thigh, tickling close to his hardening cock. “It occur to you that running away’s gonna be a lot harder with our pants down around our knees?”

“I got every confidence in your abilities, sunshine. They don’t know we’re here. All you gotta do is keep quiet and we’ll be just fine.”

“You’re a fool.”

Arthur chucked, low and filthy. He gripped Charles tight, giving his cock a few rough, possessive pumps. “Fool for you, maybe. And that sweet ass of yours. Speaking of—you been good for me?”

Charles gave in. He let himself go lax against the crate, spreading his legs as far as his bunched-up trousers would let him. “Find out for yourself.”

Arthur pressed his hungry, coyote grin against Charles’ throat. “Atta girl.” 

--------

Charles bit his own fist, choking on a shaky gasp as Arthur fucked the thick plug in and out of his ass. 

“Lookit you, angel,” Arthur purred, low and hot, sweet as molten sugar in Charles’ ear. His warm breath stirred the baby hairs escaping Charles’ braid, tickling against the sensitive skin. Charles shivered, biting back another groan when Arthur eased the plug out, quickly plunging three thick fingers in third-knuckle deep to replace it.

Arthur pulled and stretched at the wet pliancy of Charles’ hole, humming in satisfaction at the lewd, soft squelching of slick, warm flesh yielding to his attention. 

“So soft and wet,” Arthur rumbled, nibbling the shell of Charles’ ear as his prey twitched and gasped under his weight, helpless to do anything but let Arthur have his way. “Such a good little pussy. Such a perfect slut.”

“C’mon,” Charles bit out, lashes fluttering when Arthur pressed hard against his prostate. His stomach jumped at the slick pleasure that climbed lazily from his spine to his scalp. A hot, tingling charge of electricity jolted through him as Arthur finger-fucked him roughly. “Stop teasin’, you sunova—”

“The mouth on you,” Arthur chuckled, withdrawing his fingers with a wet pop! “I gotcha, sunshine.” 

Charles groaned quietly, biting his lip as his hole clenched weakly on nothing, lube leaking in a slow, sticky trickle down his thigh. He felt so empty, the ache of it searing his gut with relentless heat. 

Arthur ran a proprietary hand over Charles’ hip, soothing. Charles shivered at the soft clink of the other man undoing his buckle, the gentle whisper of leather against denim as Arthur pulled his belt loose. 

Arthur leaned in close as he guided his plush cockhead to rut up between Charles’ cheeks, teasing. He hooked his big, rough thumb into the wet gape of Charles’ hole, tugging him even further open. 

“Hold tight, angel,” Arthur whispered in Charles’ ear, scraping the soft skin of his earlobe with his teeth. “Gonna fill you up right.” 

Charles nodded, wordless as he tightened his grip on the crate, pushing back into the effortless stretch of Arthur’s big, heavy cock fucking into him. 

“Such an easy cunt,” Arthur bit out, voice tight as he thrust forward. “So soft and wet, such a sweet, hot lil’ hole—” 

John’s broken-glass voice pierced the muggy murmur of the dock traffic outside, hissing loud throughout the warehouse. “Charles! Arthur! Where are you fools?”

Arthur pressed his sweaty forehead to the bared skin of Charles’ neck, cursing. “Of all the fuckin—”

Charles snapped a hand out, snagging Arthur by the belt-loop, pulling him in tight as Arthur made to push off of him. “Keep going.”

Arthur shook his head, helplessly humping forward with a strangled moan. “John—”

Charles spread his thighs against the straining fabric of his trousers, clenching down. “Won’t find us if you shut up.”

Arthur whined like a kicked dog, hand digging into Charles’ hip. He nodded, scraping a whiskery kiss against the knob of Charles’ spine. 

“Yessir,” he panted, as he resumed fucking Charles against the crate, obedient.

-------------

They found John twenty minutes later, arms crossed as he fumed on a bench across from the horses. 

The lanky gunslinger fixed them with a glare. “Where the hell did you two go?”

Charles shrugged, nonchalant. The thick plug was seated back in place, pressed there by a greedy Arthur after the cowboy had spent inside him.

Charles managed to suppress a wince as he hauled himself up onto Taima, wrists sore from bracing himself across the crate. Arthur’d done good work, as evidenced by the stiff way the older outlaw held his back as he mounted Maeve.

“Took a detour.”

[writeywritey]

people keep speculating/threatening that the assassination of Brian Thompson might become a pattern in an attempt to bring the richest back under some kind of social control, but I haven't seen many people talk about how it already kinda is recurring now? there have been at least two failed attempts on Trump's life recently, and it's hard not to see this as being someone's attempt to replicate that on a more personal and specific target

something something gun laws lax living conditions struggling and hyper partisan and extremistic politics what the fuck did you think was gonna happen something something

[tikosblogg]

The purge…

Summary: The purge. A night full of legalized anarchy. A societal experiment gone horribly wrong. Once a year, for twelve hours, all crime becomes legal, a sanctioned release valve for the darkest desires of mankind. The streets transform into a battleground of chaos, where the weak become prey, and law is reduced to a meaningless whisper in the wind. @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning 💜

Warning: ⚠️ 18+ mentions of CRIME, MURDER, little bit of BLOOD. Mention of a KNIFE, GUNS, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex (plz don’t do that) I think that’s it, lemme know if I need to add anything.

A/N: FUCK the haters….thats all. If you don’t like it, go cry somewhere else.

Noah stood in the living room of his L.A. townhouse, surrounded by his friends—Jolly, Folio, Nicholas, and Matt—as they fortified their makeshift sanctuary. The news had broken just a week ago, the Prime Minister’s voice echoing across airwaves, officially sanctioning a night of anarchy. The so-called "Purge" was to commence at 10 p.m. tonight, and he felt a cold dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

“Noah, we need to barricade that window better,” Folio urged, nodding toward the house’s fractured glass. Noah grunted, clenching his fists, his tattooed arms rippling with tension. “Ok.”

His thoughts drifted to y/n, his best friend since childhood. She had moved to San Francisco a year ago, chasing dreams of her own. The last time they spoke, everything felt normal. He had purposefully refrained from telling her about the impending chaos, not wanting to burden her with fears that now clawed at his heart. Instead, they planned to see each other soon, and now… This godforsaken night loomed large with unknown terrors. As the clock counted down, his resolve weakened.

You rushed through LAX, suitcase in tow, your heart racing with excitement. You had decided on a whim to surprise Noah for the weekend. It had been too long since you saw each other, and this precious moment was supposed to rekindle your friendship. As you navigated through the bustling crowd, an alarming sense of urgency swept the airport.

People were screaming, some crying, and others rushing toward the exits. Crowds seemed insurmountable, and the clock ticked menacingly toward 10 p.m. “Where are all the damn cabs?” You muttered, scanning the chaos. It felt as though the world outside had distorted into a surreal nightmare. You finally decided, against your better judgment, to trek two miles to the nearest bus station.

Crossing the now eerily quiet streets, you glanced at the houses. Something felt off. People peeked out through the curtains, eyes wide yet lifeless, like ghosts. Ignoring the isolated chill that swept over you, you pressed on.

When you arrived at the bus stop, your spirits sank further. A hooded figure occupied the bench, a menacing silhouette against the dimming light. As you sat down, adrenaline pumped through your veins. You noticed the figure’s heavy breathing and turned just in time to meet a hollow gaze from behind a white mask, its eyes and mouth outlined in glaring neon. A large knife secured tightly in his hand.

You gasped, your body reacting before your mind even registered the danger. Panic surged as you leaped to your feet, your suitcase clattering to the ground. The figure sprang into action, knife glinting as it sliced through the air.

His heart raced as he felt the looming threat tighten around him. The countdown struck 10. The Purge had officially started, and the world outside was now a canvas for human depravity. His phone vibrated, notifications flooded his screen—a string of reports about violence breaking out on the streets.

“Remember, we don’t engage,” he reminded his friends as they holed themselves up. But the intense need to talk to you clawed at him. He sent you messages, one after another, but silence echoed back. His instinct pricked with fear.

As minutes turned into endless seconds, a loud bang echoed through the quiet night. He glanced at Matt, who nodded apprehensively. “Lock and load. We stick together.”

You charged through unfamiliar backyards, desperation heightening every intuitive reflex you had. The hooded figure pounded behind you like a relentless pursuing shadow. You stumbled onto a lawn and struck a futile plea at the front door of a house—“Help me Please!” The home owners peering out their barred in windows, sadness in their eyes.

Closing in on you, the figure yanked you back as you screamed slamming you against the front door. You sobbed in fear and confusion. Why is nobody helping? The knife glided down your cheek, slicing it. A surge of primal instinct kicked in: you struck out, hitting him in the groin.

The man topples over with a groan, as you make a run for it again. You run through multiple peoples yards, passing house after house sobbing. You don’t understand what is happening. You finally come to a stop, hiding behind one of the houses in the neighborhood. You look around, the neighborhood seemingly familiar. Noah lives on the next street over. You gasp covering your mouth, as the hooded man walks down the side walk tauntingly whistling for you.

You stay silent hoping he gives up and walks away. You were almost in the clear until your phone rang out, its ringtone slicing through the tension. The figure paused, turning toward you. You sprinted, lungs burning, as you finally caught sight of a familiar street. Noah! You can make it.

Noah tensed when he heard a distant scream, a heart-wrenching reminder that this was actually real. He hesitated before finally taking a peek out of the barred window. His eyes in utter disbelief at what they were seeing.

You reached Noah’s front yard just as sheer terror felled you. You felt the ground beneath you, a weight pressing down as the hooded figure tackled you, pinning you. His knife rose slowly, ready to enact a brutal act. You thrashed and sobbed, eyes squeezed shut waiting to meet your dreaded fate.

Suddenly, the air exploded, a gunshot ringing out. The weight on top of you lifted as the figure collapsed, knife slipping from his grip. Noah appeared, rushing to your side. “Y/n Oh my god!” He swept you into his arms before you could breathe, hauling you inside as the guys locked the door behind you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?!” His voice trembled, his gaze sweeping over your disheveled state and the blood drawing down your cheek. “I wanted to surprise you, but…” your words tumbled out in a rush as your body shook, “He… He chased me, and….”

He pulled away, an intensity in his eyes that both calmed and ignited a fierce instinct as he shushed you. “You’re safe now. I promise. But we need to secure the house.”

As they set to fortifying the house, you found solace in the familiarity of Noah’s presence. Though the night was haunted by terrors. After making sure everything was secured, everyone checked in on you before they scattered to their own respective rooms. Noah grabbed your hand, leading up the stairs to his. He grabbed you a shirt to change into, letting you crawl into the comfort of his bed. He leaned in placing a kiss to your head, before standing back up.

Your hand caught his shirt before he could move any further. “Don’t leave me.” You whispered. He softly smiled before shaking his head. “Never. I just need to get changed.” You nodded softly, allowing him to do so. He finally walked back over, climbing into bed with you. You turned over, as he pulled you back into his chest, holding you tight as the distant sound of chaos lingered beyond their secured walls.

“Please tell me what’s happening Noah.” You whispered, voice still shaking. He kissed the back of your head, gripping your smaller hand in his. You pulled them up to your chest, placing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I’ll tell you everything in the morning… it’ll be over by then.” He spoke, his voice low. Even more confusion filled your mind, as you snuggled in attempting to get some sleep.

But the peace is short-lived. A nightmare rips you from your sleep, your scream piercing the quiet room. You jolt upright, your heart pounding, and find Noah's eyes already open, alert and concerned.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he whispers, his hands grasping your shoulders. "You're safe, I'm here baby." His dark eyes, hold yours, anchoring you back to reality. You take a shaky breath, your chest heaving as you try to regain control. "I-I'm sorry, I just..." Your voice cracks, the memory of the dream still vivid.

"Shh... it's okay. Just tell me what you need," he says, his voice steady and reassuring. You bite your lip, a mix of so many feelings overwhelming your body and nervousness flitting across your face. "I... I just want to forget, please make me forget.” You whined, looking away shyly.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead, then your cheek, and finally capturing your lips in a tender kiss. His mouth is warm and inviting, and you melt into him, your lips parting in silent invitation. His tongue slides against yours, a slow, sensual dance that ignites a fire within you.

As the kiss deepens, his hands begin to wander, tracing the curves of your body now covered by his shirt. He lifts the hem, his fingers skimming the bare skin of your thighs, sending shivers through your core. His touch is electric, awakening every nerve ending in your body.

He breaks the kiss, his breath ragged as he gazes into your eyes. "I’ll make you forget baby…just focus on me." His voice is a husky whisper, his desire evident in his intense stare.

You nod, your breath coming in short gasps. He leans back, his hands guiding your body until you're lying on your back, the soft sheets caressing your skin. He stands, his muscular frame towering over you, and slowly peels off his shirt, revealing a chest covered in intricate tattoos.

Your eyes devour his body, tracing the lines of ink that tell a story of his past. He steps out of his pants, leaving him completely exposed, his dick already straining towards you. You feel a rush of desire, your body responding to his raw masculinity.

He joins you back on the bed, his lips finding yours once more, while his hands roam freely, exploring every inch of your body. His fingers tease your nipples through the fabric of his shirt, making you arch into his touch. He pulls the shirt up, baring your breasts, and takes one tight peak into his mouth, sucking gently.

A moan escapes your lips as he alternates between teasing your nipples with his tongue and teeth. His free hand travels down your stomach, slipping beneath the fabric of your dampening panties, and finds the wet slit. He strokes your sensitive bundle of nerves, making you squirm and beg for more.

"Please, Noah," you whisper, your voice desperate with need. He grins, a devilish glint in his eye, and slides a finger inside you, curling it to find your sweet spot. You gasp, your body arching off the bed as he adds another finger, stretching and filling you.

"Feel good?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to hear you, baby.” Your cheeks flush as you realize he wants you to vocalize your pleasure. "Fuck…please Noah." He chuckles, the sound deep and sensual. "That's it, sweet girl."

He positions himself between your thighs, giving you one last teasing smile, before licking wide strip up your cunt, groaning at the taste of you. You gasp, your back arching from the bed. He dives back in devouring you. He pumped his fingers slowly, his tongue giving your clit few kitten licks before sucking it into his mouth gently.

You whimper, your fingers running through his hair gripping it firmly. He groaned as you tugged it, your hips thrusting against his tongue. “Such a good girl…take what you need.” He groaned watching you fall apart for him. You wasted no more time, pulling his face back into your aching cunt. Your orgasm quickly washing over you.

He grinned as you made a mess all over his tongue. He licked up every drop, before crawling back up to you. His lips found yours in a messy heated kiss. In one smooth thrust, he fills you, his cock sliding deep inside your core. You cry out, your body adjusting to the invasion, the sensation of being stretched around his thick cock.

He holds still, giving you a moment to acclimate, before beginning a slow, steady rhythm. Each thrust fills you, his hips slamming against yours, his balls slapping against your ass. "Fuck baby..you feel so good," he grunts, his eyes closed in concentration. "So tight, so wet…all mine." He growled thrusting harder to emphasize the word ‘mine’

“Isn’t that right sweet girl?” He moaned as You matched his rhythm, your hips rising to meet his, your hands digging into his shoulders, leaving marks on his tattooed skin. "Fuck yes…all yours, please," you beg, your voice breathless.

“Please what baby?” He whispers against your lips. “Harder..”you whine, so close to the edge for the second time. He complies without another word, his thrusts becoming more forceful, his cock hitting your sweet spot with each stroke. You're a mess of moans and whimpers, your body on the brink of ecstasy.

"Touch yourself, baby" he encourages, his voice thick with desire. "Let me see you fall apart for me again." You do as he says, your fingers finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud as he pounds into you. The combination of his cock and your fingers sends you over the edge.

"Fuck! I'm—I'm gonna cum!" you cry out, your body convulsing around him, your juices flowing freely. He grunts, his own release building as he feels your pussy clench around his him. With a final, powerful thrust, he empties himself inside you, his hot cum filling you up.

He collapses onto you, his weight pinning you to the bed, his breath ragged against your neck. "Fuck, y/n" he pants. “What?”A light giggle leaves your lips, as he lifts back up to look down you. “I love you.” His face was now serious, almost nervous. You reach up cupping his cheeks, pulling down into soft lingering kiss. “I love you too.”

[briarpatch-kids]

Re the "gun violence" post, I know exactly one person IRL who has witnessed a shooting, maybe two. I think we need much better gun laws, but people aren't shooting each other left and right in America. And where I live, most kids who's family owns guns get their first around age 8 for small game and start hunting big game at 10. My husband shot his first deer at 10, maybe younger if the laws were more lax 20 years ago.

[wormsdyke]

i ask because i’ve only been to pride in semi rural southern US and they’ve usually had 5 ish people around the perimeter who open carry guns and bullet proof vests, they’re clearly marked as not cops and there for protection at pride. but i’ve realized that may not be common

hi queers i have a question. if you have been to pride, was there armed security there? not cops, i mean local queers that are official protection at pride?

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

Even with horcruxes, Voldemort wouldn't last long if he pulled that shit in America because unlike britian, Americans won't hestitate to cap his ass before the cops or feds do. He and his horcruxes wouldn't last five minutes in states with lax gun laws.

You're both right and wrong. See, the Horcruxes would keep him from passing on to the afterlife, and since they can only be destroyed with Basilisk venom or Fiendfyre, bullets wouldn't destroy them. But, bullets would be very good at destroying his body every time he gets a new one. And it wouldn't take long for Americans to catch on that there's this guy who's basically Magic Hitler who's unkillable, but not unstoppable. So I posit that eventually Voldemort hunting would become a rural sport in most counties. Hell, maybe even a national pastime. If we can have multiple reality shows all about finding Bigfoot, then surely we'd have multiple hunting shows about the Yearly Voldemort Hunt. And they'd probably get good ratings too, since instead of finding nothing but trees, at least one of the shows would have a very good chance of ending the season with a dozen bullets being plugged into this guy:

[eugenedebs1920]

This manufactured outrage over Biden pardoning his son is pure gaslighting. First off. If it wasn’t for the extremely lax gun laws Republicans have, with more passion than anything, protected, it wouldn’t just be a box on a form asking questions. It would be more extensive background checks. Republicans would say, ‘you do get a background check when you purchase a firearm!’. To them I would say, ‘if you have to show id multiple times to vote, maybe multiple background checks for a firearm should undergo the same scrutiny.’

How many hours, how much wasted money, effort and taxpayer resources did James Comer spend trying to find dirt on Biden, he never could. Trump was impeached, the first time, for trying to find dirt on the Bidens. None ever came up. Except that his surviving son had substance abuse problems. To which now he has cleaned up and is sober. That’s hard to do, to judge him for purchasing a firearm, that was revealed in a book Hunter wrote, and with the lack of integrity, and the cruelty of Republicans, they went after Hunter thinking, ‘he may have been under the influence when he purchased this weapon that was never used in a crime. We got him!!’ Absolutely pathetic! A sick display of a lack of moral fortitude.

The dirty tricks, the hypocrisy, the lying, the projection and gaslighting from the once “Grand Old Party” is a display of the absence of any ethical boundaries. The cheating, the corruption, the dirty tricks. We see you. Your day will come. 🇺🇸

[radicalcoffeeclub]

Doesnt the us have such lax gun laws and so many guns because the founding whatevers wanted to make sure the government would never again take the freedoms of the people away and to ensure the people can defend themselves against tyranny. Well I hope American women will put that to good use!

[alemonyoyo]

No Country for Young Humans - Chapter 5!

Hi guys! Got this chapter out a little earlier than expected. I am going overseas tomorrow, so I assume my upload schedule of every 2 days will get a little slower. Sorry about that.

Also, I would really appreciate any feedback on my writing if you have any. I've found myself a little unhappy with the way I write recently, so any tips to improve are wholly welcome <3!!

This one's a bit more lax than the previous chapter, hope you enjoy!

Missed the previous chapters? Check out the Masterlist!

Words: 2969

Tags: GN Reader, No use of YN, Flirting, Forbidden Romance (????)

Summary: A morning mission with your new trio goes down as well as you could hope for. But a stunning victory is interrupted by some concerning news.

Chapter 5 - The Search: Undertale Yellow OST: 066 The Train Problem

You pressed your back firmly against the wall of the building, feeling the warmth that its bricks held onto seep into the back of your shirt. Peeking your head around the corner you saw that familiar green tint. You still felt Ed’s presence by your side so you turned back to him, giving him a short nod. You both readied your guns, the air dry and crisp, not carrying a single sound with it as you rounded the corner of the building.

“Hands up, Virgil!” You screamed, getting into character. Ed was by your side, his larger pistol, more suited for his huge hands, was pointed directly at your prey.

“This is the last time you get away with stealin’ Mooch’s gold.” Ed’s voice commanded throughout the Wild East, if only you had such confidence. He played the role of the tough guy very well.

Vengeful Virgil, like the vermin that he is, scampered from side to side to get around you two, but was met with the fellow swoop of one of Ace’s cards slicing a shallow cut in his cheek.

“Not so fast, V.” Ace cut in, blocking Virgil’s only way to escape. “We’re not leavin’ till we get what’s ours.” Virgil panicked against the wall, trying to hide his fearful glance under the brim of his hat. But his snout was too long, and his grimace was extremely apparent.

“Y-you don’t understand, Feisty Three.” Well- you supposed that was correct. There were only three of you right now, but the others would be here with backup any minute! 

After agreeing to stay in the Wild East, North Star had given you the highest of privileges; to join the Feisty Five as its newest member! This was to Ed’s dismay as “The Feisty Six” did not have the same ring to it that the alliteration of “The Feisty Five” provided. But alas, you were happy to be a part of whatever game they were playing, title be damned.

“I think we understand just fine.” Ace said, taking a menacing step towards Virgil.

“She- she stole it off a’ me! Mooch stole *my* gold! I was just stealin’ it back!” He squirmed against the wall.

“Aha! So you admit to stealing Mooch’s gold then?” You smirked, the loophole in his words falling carefully into place. This was a confession! You could have him imprisoned! Your first bandit capture while on the team! “I oughta lock you up for just that. But running away from the law, trying to shoot our dearest sheriff? I think you might get *life* in jail!” You hammed up your accent, really getting into character.

“Sounds good to me, rookie.” Ed responded with a nasty smirk.

“Agreed, give him what he deserves.” Ace continued. With that, you pulled out a lasso you had been gifted by Ace, who had stepped you through Lassons 101 for the past couple of days. Virgil squealed pathetically at the sight.

As you readied your throw, you kept in mind all he had taught you. You whirled the lasso around your head, feeling the loop tug and pull against itself. Keeping your hand in position you threw the lasso with all your strength. It soared across the air gracefully, and you watched in awe at your own technical prowess.

“Um.” Virgil responded, watching as your lasso landed in a pathetic heap in front of him,

“That’s okay.” He started as he bundled up the coil of rope and handed it to you, returning to his frightened position against the wall of the building. “You can try again.”

You repeated the same steps in motion, though this time with far less confidence and much more embarrassment. Your loop flopped against the side of the building with a thunk, before tripping on itself and falling to the floor once more.

“No no, you have to twist your wrist! That’s what’ll keep the loop horizontal!” Ace insisted, picking up the rope from the ground. “One more, Virgil.”

You felt your face grow hot. You were lucky North Star wasn’t here to watch this pitiful display. He’d probably still be proud of you nonetheless, but the thought was highly embarrassing.

You held your hand at the base of the loop in the lasso. Swung it round; one, two, before lifting it above your head and allowing the loop to slip from your grasp. It launched forward, nicking itself over Virgil's hat. The lasso lightly fell around his shoulders.

“Okay, okay now pull!!” Ace whispered eagerly. You pulled the lasso taught, and suddenly the menacing Vengeful Virgil was captured! The three of you cheered as Virigil remained still against the building. Face blank and clueless.

“Let’s take this guy to where he’ll be stayin’ the night.” Ed offered.

“Sounds like a plan!”

You walked off happily, Vengeful Virgil in tow.

“Wow, can’t believe you caught him just like that! Those lasson’s are really coming in handy.” Ed gave you a light pat on the back, but due to his strength it felt like a poor-man's heimlich manoeuvre. “I’ve never even captured a bandit with a lasso! My hands are too big to hold those tiny ropes.”

“That’s because you lack class, Ed. A real Cowboy, a *refined* one let’s say, would use the standard traditional methods.” Ace replied, “*I* for one have captured all of my prey with a lasso.” Though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel the smugness of his expression dripping throughout his tone.

“And how many’s that?” You ask, feeling Virgil tug at your rope.

“... Three.” He mumbled. You tried not to giggle, but Ed took charge, his roaring laughter was infectious.

“Seems we all suck at this a little.” You chuckled out, finding all your embarrassment dissipated.

Eventually you made it to the jail in the heart of town. Ed walked up ahead and held the door open for you. Ace walked inside and unlocked the door to one of the two cells the jail held. You stepped inside, a momentary respite from the harsh rays. You pulled the rope to guide Virgil into his cell. It felt like having a dog on a leash. Virgil voluntarily walked into the cell, seemingly forgetting he was supposed to be the struggling criminal, captured by the mighty Feisty Three! You loosened your rope, coiling it up as Ace locked the cage. 

“See you later Vengeful *Vermin*.” Ace spat.

“Ooo good one.” You teased, chuckling at him.

“Oh shush. As if you could do any better, rookie.” You both laughed and left Virgil to rot in his cell for your predicted sentence of a lifetime.

“Good job team!” You congratulated the other two, beaming with the newfound confidence that a successful mission brought. “I think we’ve done some good today. We should find Star and the others and tell them to stop the search! We’ve already caught the bandit right?” The other two nodded, satisfied with the morning’s mission.

North Star, Mooch and Moray had been assigned to patrol the West-most side of the Wild East after Vengeful Virgil had escaped from the clutches of your group. It wouldn’t be too hard to find the three of them. 

You had been a little disappointed at first when you hadn’t been assigned a team with North Star, though he insisted it was necessary, you were sad nonetheless. You liked hanging out with him more than anyone. He’s what made this game of Cowboy truly exciting. Ace and Ed were great, and you were honestly becoming closer to them than you had anticipated this morning, but they didn’t have the capriciousness, the risk, that Star did.

The three of you had barely started walking down the road to the western section of town when you saw the rest of the gang walking back empty-handed. At your appearance, Mooch ran over excitedly,

“Oh, oh! Did you do it? Did you find him?” She scurried along the sand, looking up at the three of you.

“We sure did!” You said triumphantly.

“That’s great to hear!” Said Moray as they approached.

“All thanks to our newest recruit.” Ace butted in. You gave him a thankful nod.

“Oh, gettin’ the hang of the ol’ lasso already, are we sweets?” North Star inquired, catching up with the other two. You prayed that Ed nor Ace would speak of the pathetic display earlier today to save your ego. 

“I- I guess you could say that.” You mumbled, feeling yourself fluster at the other nickname Star had given you.. He was quite relentless with them; “Darlin’”, “Sweets”. All of which were spoken in his delicious accent and you happily drank them up.

“So, did you get my gold back?” Mooch asked. Your stomach dropped.

Shit, you had forgotten Mooch’s gold- The whole reason you were hunting this guy down in the first place! What sort of heroes were you?

The three of you fell silent, your expressions each uniquely blank. Embarrassment filled the silence in the air.

“You forgot, didn’t you.” Mooch responded flatly, highly disappointed.

“Ah, Mooch. You don’t understand. Today's mission wasn’t about gettin’ your gold back it wa-”

“It wasn’t?!” She interjected, stomping a foot down in the sand.

“Well- I- It was about *heart*!” Star tried to pull together some sort of moral, “Our team has stopped Vengeful Virgil from stealin’ from *more* vulnerable pockets. Thanks to your gold pouch, we were tipped off to that.” 

“It was a noble sacrifice, Mooch.” Moray responded from behind them, trying to push the conversation along. You all nodded with a melancholy facade, mourning the loss of Mooch’s most-likely-stolen gold. Her expression scrunched up and she crossed her arms but didn’t say anything.

The group was silent for an awkward moment, before North Star suggested;

“How about we go celebrate this victory of Justice over a round of drinks?” To that, the rest of them cheered, except for Mooch, of course. She remained disgruntled.

You followed the group as they bumbled along the path back to the saloon. Another great morning in the Wild East! And, you had a whole afternoon of adventuring to look forward to! This time as a group, so you wouldn’t be away from Star for too long. 

You were right outside the saloon, the relentless rays of the Dunes pounding down on your skin. The wind washed around your ears, and in the crashing of its waves it carried a small sound. A chant, maybe? Someone was yelling, but for fear or for joy you couldn’t tell.

“Uh, who is that?” Moray pointed out beyond the limits of the town. You all turned your heads to see a tall, blue figure kicking up sand as they ran.

“Martlet-” You let out in an astonished whisper.

“Who?” North Star inquired,

“She’s a friend of mine. From Snowdin.” You reply, confusion littering your tone. You hadn’t seen Martlet since the day of the duel. What was she doing here all of a sudden?

You fumbled down the saloon patio back onto the sand, meeting her halfway. Her run became a tumble as she nearly tripped over her own legs trying to stop herself from crashing into you.

“Oh my gosh!” She squawked out as she screeched to a halt. “They-They’re coming. You have to leave, they’re coming!” Martlet placed two feathered hands on your shoulders and shook you violently as she repeated herself. However, after a day out in the hot “sun”, it had your head spinning. North Star hurries himself across the sand in response to the violent jolting you’re receiving. He steps in between the two of you.

“Hey, hey, stop it!” His yell seems to snap Martlet out of her panicked stupor, she stops shaking. Now she seems frazzled, her eyes whizzing around the Wild East looking for a comfortable place to land that isn’t you or the man giving his all towards intimidating her. Star puffed out his chest, his eyes shooting daggers into Martlet. “I don’t care who you are, you have no right to treat our deputy like that!” He continued. The title of “deputy” rang in your ears like the bell in the centre of town. He hadn’t let *that* slip before.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” She started, holding her feathered hands up in defence. “This is just really important!” Martlet insisted, trying to get around North Star to face you. She scrunched up her face in annoyance when he wouldn’t budge.

“It’s okay, Martlet. Anything you can tell me, you can tell him.” You hoped this would placate any worry of hers, but instead it simply seemed to feed further into Star’s confidence, as he flashed a knowing grin to Martlet. Though, there was an evident light blush on his cheeks.

“Ah yes, me and the deputy are as tight as the knot in a lasso!” He crossed his gloved fingers. Martlet crossed her arms.

“Okay, sure. Look- You need to get out of here.” She said, turning to you. Her tone was deathly serious, a far departure from the dorky bird you had known previously. “The Royal Guard got wind of your little “duel” and they’ve decided to do a search of the entire Dunes!” 

“Shit-” You heard Star mumble under his breath. “How long do they have?” He inquired. 

You were too stunned to speak. You had been here for quite a while with no issue, and now you just had to get up and leave! You tried to get out any words but your throat held them back. Too panicked to say anything, you remained paralysed in silence.

“About an hour. I’ve taken a head start but they’re heading over from Hotland.” Your head starts to spiral, it’s getting hard to stand. Your mind is overwhelmed, waterlogged with the idea of your own capture. Possibly the Feisty Five’s capture for treason too- 

You were lucky that your run-in with the Royal Guard went so smoothly. But you got the feeling that the rest of the Royal Guard wouldn’t be as forgiving as Martlet. This was not good- This was horrible. This was the worst thing that could happen! Where could you even go from here?

Something pulled at your hand. Looking down you could see North Star’s hand slip its way into your own. Looking up at him, he gave you a smile. You felt your mind clear itself at the feeling of his fingers intertwined with yours. It was a small gesture, but it was more than enough to ground you to your senses.

“...I think it’d be best for you to head to Waterfall. It’s in the opposite direction to Hotland, and it’s far more cavernous and easy to hide in.” Martlet advised.

“I’ll come with you, sweets.” Star reassured you, his thumb running over your knuckles, “You ain’t never been to Waterfall, have you?”

“No.” You shook your head. Looking back at Martlet who met you with a worried expression. 

“I would love to come with you, but I have to join the search.” She turned away with a pained expression, “I’ll come find you at Waterfall when it’s over, but until then, stay in Waterfall.” She had quite a demanding tone. Perhaps she was more fit for the job of a Royal Guard than she thought.

You sighed, trying to let out all of the worries that fizzled in the base of your stomach, leaving you nauseous.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be like one of our adventures!” Star turned to you, “Exploring new places, hiding from the bad guys!” Though his voice was cheery, his expression was dampened with hesitation.It was clear that he was trying to quell your anxieties, so you attempted meeting him with a grateful smile.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You squeezed his hand.

“I gotta head off now. Good luck!” Martlet said before flapping her wings and setting off, soaring through the sky as if the ground never held her. You wished you had such freedom, to leap from gravity’s clutches at will, escaping from all those who sought you harm. But as soon as the thought crossed your mind, it left, ashamed. You had your freedom on the surface, and you let it go- This was your punishment; getting hunted down like meat.

“You okay, deputy?” Star let go of your hand, instead resting both of his arms on your shoulders. He looked right into your eyes, his gaze analysing every feature of your face, digging for any sort of apprehension. He wouldn’t have to look hard to find it.

“I- No, I’m not okay.” You sigh, “But I will be. I hope.” You look away from his unrelenting gaze, feeling judged.

“Well then, rookie. Pack as much as you can for the both of us and meet me out here in 10. I’m going to alert the others, okay?” You nodded with a huff.

“It’ll be alright, darlin’.” He brushed his knuckles on the side of your face. “I know this is scary. *I’m* scared.” His hand turned to cup your cheek, “But if we lay low, like real bounty hunters, I’m sure it’ll be just fine.” He ran a hand through your hair, brushing it out of your face. He turned and reluctantly walked off towards the saloon.

Fuck, you were scared- But the look he gave you, mixed with the feeling of his fingers against your cheek was a feeling worth fighting for. You turned away from the saloon, heading off to get some supplies.

You weren’t going to let the Royal Guard win.

***

“The locals around here say they haven’t seen anything, boss.”

“Keep trying. We need this soul more than anything, understand?”

“Y-yes.”

“Continue your search. I’m going to make a head start eastward.”

“Rumour says there isn’t much around there. Just an abandoned old town.”

“We’ll see about that.”

[woodsfae]

B5 S03E22 Z'Ha'Dum previous episode - table of contents

Flashback central - Anna talking about signing onto the Icarus. Kosh saying "Z'Ha'Dum," Delenn and Sheridan talking about the Icarus landing on Z'Ha'Dum, Morden being a dickbag. 

Anna doesn't seem very sincere, and I don't buy her "I'm an open book, but DELENN didn't tell you...no, I shan't say..." schtick. 

I know I made all those predictions about how this will play out, but I really don't know how this is going to play out. Will the future be subverted and the prophecies less than self-fulfilling? I don't know! 

Partner: "Do you think these guys did like, late-night interviews in the 90s or was it not popular enough?" Me: "Hm let me consult my extensive memories of being 0-6 years old in an anti-technology cult in the 1990s." 

Anna: "I'm your wife." Dr Franklin: "That's your wife." Sheridan: "If that's my wife, then what was all my years of grief-processing for?" 

Excuse me Sheridan, take your hands off Delenn. Don't shake her just because you're emotionally overwrought. 

I am on Delenn's side in this argument. Delenn said clearly that anyone who wouldn't have served the Shadows would have been killed. Therefore, Anna was either dead, or completely opposed to the life and wellbeing of every living thing in the galaxy. 

yeah yeah Sheridan, you have big emotions. But don't be a dick.

Londo's political maneuvering has resulted in a promotion and he's bummed because he can't be satisfied with anything. He's a voracious pit of longing that can never be filled. When he's made an ambassador, he rages because they're sending him away. When he's given a prestigious advisor position, he's mad because he deserved it twenty years ago. 

Mr Morden Jr is here. Sounds like there's about to be an attack on B5. 

Looks like Dr Franklin just found something in his scans on Anna Sheridan. 

Anna is refusing to answer any questions about anything unless John goes with her to Z'Ha'Dum to hear the answers there. Not even why she stayed and let herself be declared dead and all her loved ones grieve her death. 

Aaaan he agrees to go to Z'Ha'Dum if she explains why she stayed. Against future!Delenn's pleas. 

Anna says - IPX found a Shadows ship buried under the surface of Mars. As soon as they unearthed it, it sent a message. IPX took some parts and put a homing device inside. When another ship turned up and took the first one, they tracked it. (didn't the second ship also kill a fuckload of people? She doesn't mention anything about that.)

The Icarus went to the coordinates and found the Shadows. In a pit. Very foreboding. She says it was an accident that the crew was killed, and also destroyed the comm system. She says they portrayed themselves as vunerable coming out of hibernation and cut a deal that they could stay and study their tech if they didn't try to contact their homeworld(s). 

It would be a cool plot twist if Anna was telling the truth and he really was about to find out he's been on the wrong side this entire time. However, I don't think that's the case. The Shadows haven't been taking out governmental heads, they've been displacing populations, causing genocides, anmd spreading suffering. 

I do wonder what this secret task he's given Garibaldi is. 

It's incredibly foolish to run off to the ACTUAL HOMEWORLD of your mortal enemies. But there goes John Sheridan! trot trot. Well, they did hit him where he's most vulnerable. The wound of losing a loved one never really goes away. 

They're taking the White Star - what a fucking security vulnerability! Also, so funny that Sheridan is taking the White Star when he's only SEEN the Minbari pilot it. Aviation law must have gotten lax in the future. 

Z'Ha'Dum doesn't have a breathable atmosphere. He goes off, alone, with his formerly-dead wife. To the enemy's planet. With no breathable atmosphere. And just nods and hands over his gun. And doesn't even keep his oxygen mask at hand! 

Dummy.

And Morden's here. AND Anna gives HIM John's gun! goddddddddddd

Poor Delenn, she looks wrecked. John's message to her talks about his time jump and Delenn's plea to not go to Z'Ha'Dum. He says he went because maybe in that future, he listened to her and DIDN'T go, so he's going in case it changes the future. 

Well. 

ok

Justin on Z'Ha'Dum says that most of the higher races left this part of the universe, and the Vorlons stuck around to be parents. Clean your room, behave, etc. The Shadows, though, want to release their potentials...through conflict. "Those who survive are strong, better," Justin says. And Morden says if you knock over an anthill, the future generations get better at building anthills. 

hm. 

"...but I love my mom and dad," - noted parents-guy John Sheridan, hopefully. 

"A few get lost along the way," Justin says. Yeah. Like the Narn got directly targeted and attacked repeatedly until they lost their telepaths, then almost lost everything? Literally they were T A R G E T E D. It isn't a neutral "they got lost," they were pummeled into near-oblivion. 

Oop, the Shadows have arrived at B5. 

Morden would have us believe that sonnets came from wars. Bullshit - sonnets came from the Italian courtly style and was developed in order to flirt better.  (per Partner's masters of poetry)

Ahhh, the Shadows are hanging out over B5 as the hammer over Sheridan's head. Sheridan's too good at diplomacy, so he's preventing the species' growth through warfare. boooooo.

I could go through and rebut the things they're saying point by point but ehhh. It's a lot. But it's 99% bullshit and 1% mispresented.

Sheridan drops a bomb: Anna has been altered in the same way as the people who were being sent to become components in the Shadows ships. 

Whoop, Shadow incoming. And gun incoming! John Sheridan had TWO GUNS. badadadada

oof, poor Sheridan. He's arming the White Star to detonate, and Anna's turned up saying that Anna is dead, but she can love John as well as Anna ever did. 

"I want you to know that I love you, Delenn. Bye." he says, in the video message. 

And there's the Kosh fragment! Sheridan jumps into the pit of doom in the center of Z'Ha Dum as the White Star bursts through the central dome. 

Anna didn't like that!

Kosh said he couldn't help Sheridan if he helped then. And then he helped anyway. lol

I like the G'Kar voice-over. Andreas has such a marvelous voice and he really knows how to use it. 

One of the fighters is missing - piloted by Garibaldi! And the marvelous CGI depicts it floating in a Shadows ship. Well. At least we won't run out of plot anytime soon. :P

season 4 awaits!

[tobiasdrake]

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA The most American yakuza you've ever seen!

Mariko's kidnapping is carried out with pump-action shotguns, handguns, even an uzi. These yakuza are armed to the teeth thanks to Japan's famously lax gun laws and complete lack of restrictions around private weapon ownership.

They just went down to the local Tokyo Firearms Emporium and picked up some gear, as you do in Japan.

Obviously, I'm being facetious. This is a vision of Japan brought to you by five white Americans.

This, right here, is what Americans think every country that isn't the United States is like. When they say "If guns are criminalized then only the criminals will have guns," they mean this. They honestly think every other country looks like this.

A civilian populace that is just absolutely at the mercy of crime syndicates packing more heat than a Texas Gun Show.

[phantasm-masquerade]

[ID: An edited meme from the movie I, Robot. Will Smith's character says "American liberals have no plan to keep Trump style fascists out of power aside from 'just hope we never lose another election ever again'." The robot character replies "And your plan is?" Will Smith's character has a dismayed expression.]

"If Biden wins you're giving carte blanche to the Democrats to do whatever they want in regards to foreign policy"

okay and Trump has specific enumerated plans that will very specifically make foreign policy in specifically Palestine (but also everywhere fucking else) WAY worse

"well then if both of your options in the system lead to genocide then we need to get out of the system"

and xou have a practical, feasible plan that smashes the power of the fascists and replaces our system with something at least better? i'm all ears then! oh xou don't have a plan? then what's the point in acting like we aren't gonna be living under either Trump again or Biden again

if we were going to overthrow the system in time to stop trump/biden from taking power after this election that would have had to have been planned at least 5 years ago, probably more

revolutions require logistical planning, recruitment, networks of mutual aid that can survive government attacks, an stockpiles of all sorts of resources for an inevitable insurgent conflict

we. do not. have that.

have xou been taking advantage of america's lax gun laws to stockpile massive amounts of guns and ammunition to storm the government? have xou made farmer collectives that can provide food to a revolutionary core even despite blockades from government forces? (both of these things are very much possible, by the way)

and even if xou view it from a "how quickly can we get this shitty system toppled" maybe don't let the plan for millions of fascists paramilitaries and secret police to be implemented (project 2025)? maybe it would be very obviously harder to get rid of the government after that?

i would be overjoyed if it were possible for us to leave this shitty, shitty late state capitalist hellscape before 1/20/25, but it doesn't seem like anyone who says that's the only moral option has a way to make that happen?

in summary,

[ID: A tweet from Basil @ LinkOfSunshine on Twitter, reading "People on twitter will really be like 'you believe in voting? that pales in effectiveness to my strategy, firebombing a Walmart' and then not firebomb a Walmart"]