#learn how to shoot a gun texas

[marksmanrange]

Discover Top Gun Classes and Firearm Training in Houston Texas

Hey there, fellow shooting enthusiasts! Whether you're new to the world of firearms or a seasoned shooter looking to hone your skills, finding the right place for gun classes in Houston can make all the difference. In a city as vibrant and diverse as Houston, there are plenty of options, but if you're looking for top-notch training and a stellar shooting experience, Marksman Range is the place to be.

Why Take Gun Classes in Houston?

So, why should you consider taking gun classes in Houston? Well, there are several great reasons:

Safety First: Understanding how to handle and operate a firearm safely is crucial. Gun classes teach you the fundamentals of gun safety, ensuring you can enjoy shooting responsibly and securely.

Skill Development: Whether you're a beginner or an experienced shooter, there’s always room for improvement. Professional training helps you refine your techniques and become a more accurate and confident shooter.

Legal Awareness: Gun ownership comes with responsibilities. Classes often include lessons on local laws and regulations, helping you stay compliant and informed.

Fun and Community: Learning to shoot can be a fun and social activity. Gun classes provide a great opportunity to meet like-minded individuals and enjoy the camaraderie of the shooting community.

Comprehensive Firearm Training in Houston

When it comes to firearm training in Houston, Marksman Range offers a wide variety of courses designed to meet the needs of shooters at all levels. Here’s a glimpse of what you can expect:

Beginner Classes

If you’re just starting out, beginner classes at Marksman Range are perfect for you. These classes cover the basics of firearm operation, safety protocols, and shooting fundamentals. You'll learn everything from how to properly hold a gun to the correct stance and aiming techniques.

Intermediate and Advanced Training

For those with some experience, Marksman Range offers intermediate and advanced courses. These classes delve deeper into shooting techniques, precision, and tactical skills. Whether you're looking to improve your marksmanship or learn defensive shooting skills, there's a course tailored to your needs.

Specialized Courses

Marksman Range also provides specialized training for those interested in particular aspects of shooting. From defensive handgun courses to long-range rifle training, you’ll find a class that fits your interests. These courses are ideal for individuals looking to develop specific skills or enhance their proficiency with certain types of firearms.

Learn How to Shoot a Gun in Texas

If you’re eager to learn how to shoot a gun in Texas, you’re in the right place. Texas is known for its strong gun culture, and there's no better way to embrace it than by learning to shoot with expert guidance.

Marksman Range’s instructors are not only highly skilled but also passionate about teaching. They take the time to ensure you understand each aspect of shooting, from the mechanics of the firearm to the nuances of aiming and firing. With their support, you’ll gain the confidence and skills needed to handle a gun effectively and safely.

Why Choose a Marksman Range for Your Training?

You might be wondering what makes Marksman Range the best choice for learn shooting in Texas. Here are a few reasons:

Facilities

Marksman Range boasts modern facilities that provide a safe and comfortable environment for learning. Their gun range in Houston is equipped with advanced safety features and a climate-controlled indoor shooting area, ensuring a pleasant experience regardless of the weather.

Experienced Instructors

The instructors at Marksman Range are seasoned professionals with years of experience in firearms training. They bring a wealth of knowledge and expertise to each class, offering personalized instruction that caters to your unique needs and skill level.

Comprehensive Course Offerings

Whether you're a novice or an experienced shooter, Marksman Range has a course for you. Their wide range of classes ensures that you can find the right training to match your goals and interests.

Commitment to Safety

Safety is a top priority at Marksman Range. Their classes emphasize safe handling practices, proper storage, and responsible use of firearms. This focus on safety ensures that you can enjoy shooting with peace of mind.

How to Get Started

Ready to take the plunge and start your journey into the world of shooting? Getting started with gun classes in Houston at Marksman Range is easy. Simply visit their website to view their class schedule and sign up for the course that best fits your needs. Whether you're looking to learn the basics or refine your skills, there's a class waiting for you.

The Benefits of Ongoing Training

Taking one class is a great start, but continuing your training can bring even more benefits. Regular practice and advanced courses help you stay sharp and improve over time. Marksman Range offers memberships that provide ongoing access to their facilities and discounts on classes, making it easy to keep learning and growing as a shooter.

Join the Community

One of the best parts about taking classes at Marksman Range is the opportunity to join a community of fellow enthusiasts. You’ll meet people who share your passion for shooting and gain valuable insights from their experiences. Plus, Marksman Range hosts events and competitions that add an extra layer of excitement and camaraderie to your shooting journey.

Conclusion

Whether you're new to shooting or looking to take your skills to the next level, Marksman Range is your go-to destination for gun classes in Houston and firearm training in Houston. Their comprehensive courses, expert instructors, and top-notch facilities make them the ideal choice for anyone looking to learn how to shoot a gun in Texas. So why wait? Dive into the world of shooting with Marksman Range and discover the thrill and satisfaction of mastering your firearm skills.

[gg-pedro]

can you hear the music (ch. 1) - joel miller x reader

masterlist

even here, at the end of all things, some things persisted. one thing in particular, throughout all the places you had been. music.

summary: everyone in jackson is trying to distract themselves from something. you teach ellie piano and find yourself trying to help more than one miller settle into their new world.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, platonic!ellie x reader, implied age gap, joel x reader, AFAB!reader, they kiss lolz, smut to come, pining, feelings.

words: 1.8k

a/n: a little sweet, a little bitter, a little self indulgent. I'm planning on this being a series! I hope you enjoy. warning tags only apply to this chapter.

-

Two knocks. Three. More knocking, hushed squabbling from outside your door. You got up from your seat at the kitchen table, a piling mess of sheet music and scribbled notes.

Opening the door revealed your newest student, Ellie, looking very much like Joel was leading her to the gallows with that scowl on her face. 

“Can we just get this over with? I’m fucking hungry.” Ellie pushed past you, shrugging off her coat and kicking off her boots. 

“I’m sorry… ‘bout her. She likes doin’ this, I swear. Always comes back talking about it. Just give her some time to warm up to you.”

Joel had this particular look on his face whenever he talked about that little girl. His dark eyes would soften and he’d push a hand through his graying hair, his thoughts seeming like they were somewhere else entirely from his surroundings. The most he ever said to you was about Ellie. Everything you knew about Joel was from Ellie, naturally.

He was from Texas. He was fairly older than you– you didn’t have much experience from when it was before the end of the fucking world. He sounded tightly wound. He could play the guitar, and he’d taught Ellie a few things. Once, she’d said that he only liked piano music if Billy Joel was playing it, whoever that was. That made you laugh.

You gave him a thin smile, crossing your arms over your chest to ward off the draft that was blowing through the open door. “I know. She’s a great kid, I can tell she wants to learn. I think it helps her– you know, keeping busy.”

Joel met your eyes for the first time since the conversation had started, something painful and poignant seeping into his expression. 

“Yeah. I think so.” He was quiet for a few seconds before looking straight over you to grab Ellie’s attention. “I’ll be back in an hour. I’m down the street helpin’ Tommy with that old building. Be good,” he warned, before giving you a grateful nod and turning back. 

And that was your routine. Joel was usually short with you, a little quiet, a little shy. You thought he was a sweet man– and a painfully attractive one at that. All southern and rough, broad shouldered, puppy-dog eyed. He seemed like he would do anything to keep that girl safe. You were glad the community had someone like him.

You had started teaching Ellie a few weeks after they had settled into Jackson. It was mostly because of Maria’s recommendation, who you were fairly close with. Ellie had hated taking lessons from you more vehemently in the beginning, but the more you worked at it, the more comfortable you saw her get. 

“Come on, kid. This is good for your brain,” you would say, beckoning her to sit next to you on the piano bench. 

She scoffed, but yet she obliged. “This is dumb. I could be doing something useful. Like shooting guns.”

“Art is as important, Ellie. More important than shooting guns. For you, anyway."

Her fingers tapped gingerly on the keys and she played a scale they had learned the week before. “How would you know? You aren’t even old,” she countered. “How long have you been playing?”

You glanced over at the clock. You two were wasting time, but at least she was talking. “My whole life, give or take. I tried to hold onto it whenever I could. It was my favorite thing in the entire world.”

She nodded, seeming to understand. “That’s cool. I get why Joel likes you.”

You didn’t think Joel was someone who particularly liked you. He didn’t dislike you, clearly, but if he had given any hints, they had been falling on deaf ears. You tried your best to keep your expression neutral. “And why’s that?”

She giggled to herself as she flipped through the pages of her sheet music booklet. “‘Cause you’re both fucking weird.”

You laughed too, punching her gently in the arm. “Fair. Now stop stalling and play me whatever you remember.”

Life was special nowadays. More precious than it ever had been. You would have to cherish moments like these. Loss was all around, and loving always risked the hurt. You were really, really fucking tired of hurting. 

-

Walking back to your home, trudging through the snow, you were tired. Working in Jackson’s small clinic was easy enough, but it was draining. You saw to children mainly, bandaging up wounds and dosing out rations of antibiotics when needed. The kids liked you, the parents liked you, and that was rewarding, but plastering on a smile and a light-hearted tone all day sometimes felt like too fucking much. 

So naturally, you were ready to pick a fight when you felt a broad hand consume your shoulder. 

You turned around to match the disembodied hand to a face, only to see Joel Miller. He looked tired, more tired than you, and a little sad. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t tryin’ to scare you. I saw you, and I…” He paused, looking down at the two sets of footprints that had outlined both of your paths. “Ellie isn’t feeling well. I think it’s best she skips y’alls lesson tomorrow.”

She released the breath she'd been holding. For some reason, he had the tendency to precede the things he said as if he was about to tell you that the world was ending. Again.

“That’s fine, don’t worry about it. Is she alright?” 

“Yeah, she’s alright. This whole things a big fuckin’ adjustment, and I… I worry she’ll push herself too much if nobody stops her,” he explained. “She’s been with Maria all day. But yeah, she’ll be okay.”

Ah. He was worried about her. It seemed like he was always worrying about her. “I understand. Can’t imagine what it must be like for her. And you.”

She’ll push herself if nobody stops her. Who stopped Joel? Who looked out for him? His brother, surely, but was it like that? Did those two, hardened and stretched thin, have the time to be concerned about things like that? How long had he just been… going?

You reached a hand out to touch his upper arm, rubbing it a little before pulling away. “You’re a good man, Joel. I really think that, and I hope you know it.”

He laughed a little at that. “I haven't done any good, trust me on that.”

You dropped your gaze and looked away. You knew that everyone here, without a shadow of a doubt, had done things they weren’t proud of. Things they never would’ve done if not at the end of the world.

You were maybe 20 steps from your front door, standing out in the Wyoming cold with him. You tried to meet his eyes before speaking again, but he wouldn’t face you. 

“Come in. Please, I insist. Warm up, I just traded for coffee.”

He looked like he was fighting with himself for a few seconds, raising his head and looking off to the side. “Yeah, alright. Why not.”

-

Joel Miller was sitting in your living room, sipping from a mug so carefully that you’d think he was afraid he’d break it. The fire was lit and casting warm shadows across the dim room. It was endearing. You hadn’t felt like this in a lifetime. 

“I couldn’t do it. What you do. Dealing with all those kids,” he said after a long lapse of quiet.

You shrugged, sipping on your own cup. “I love it. I never thought I’d have the chance to play music again, much less teach. It’s not perfect, but it's something,” you said. “Ellie tells me you play guitar.”

Joel rolled his eyes and finally sunk back into his chair instead of hunching over. He groaned a little as he did it, as if he stored all of his tension in his back. “Yeah, used to. I ain’t good at it anymore.”

“But you used to be?” You pried.

He finally looked at you, his eyes infinitely more dark in this light. “Maybe. Don’t think I’d be able to forget how to play even if I tried, so might as well put it to some use.”

You smiled. “I know. Funny how things stick with you. Muscle memory.”

He nodded. “Somethin’ like that.”

And it was true. There were lots of things neither of you would forget how to do, no matter how much time had lapsed in between the before and the now. And sure, most of what you had learned happened after the world had ended, but that was irrelevant. The most important things had always been there. You’d known how to love for your entire life.

His eyes wandered over to the old upright piano situated on the wall in the living room. “Is she any good on that thing?” He asked.

You thought about Ellie, who would curse everytime she slipped on a scale, who would argue fervently about how that squiggly shit on the sheet music could possibly mean anything, who learned faster than any of your other kids.

“She is. She’s impressive. She picked up Old McDonald Had a Farm like that.” You grinned, snapping your fingers for effect. 

He smiled thinly, his mind clearly somewhere else. “Explains why she won’t stop humming that shit. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“My pleasure, Joel.” You laughed. “You finished with that?” You gestured to his empty mug.

“Yeah. Hey, I’ll help you.”

You were elbow to elbow with each other at the sink, cleaning out the liquid and the scattered coffee grounds from the bottoms of your respective cups. Joel took yours and placed it on the drying rack, wiping his hands off with the towel you passed to him.

You leaned back against the island as he turned his back to the sink. He was so tall, so rugged, so handsome. His age only added to it. He had a softness around his eyes now, his features slightly obscured by the absence of much light.

“Should probably take off… Thank you. For the drink,” Joel began.

“Don’t thank me, I’d do it anytime. Tell Ellie that I hope she’s feeling better soon.”

He nodded, and he swallowed. He wasn’t making any moves to leave, save for his eyes on the door. They flicked back to you, watching you, scanning you up and down until he finally said, 

“You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart, lookin’ at me like that.”

You weren’t really sure of how it all happened, but in an instant your bodies were pressed together with your lower back digging into the dull edge of the island counter, Joel’s lips pressed to yours like he was seeking oxygen.

His free hand felt up your body, and your skin was on fire. A match thrown onto a pool of gasoline. Everything was electric. He kissed you like he’d learned it in another life, back when love was free, when forever was a tangible thing, when strings weren’t attached. You felt it all on your lips and tongue, in the bonfire that was being fanned in your abdomen.

When he stepped back, you pulled him in for more. The opposite reaction to the Earth pulling down on you is you pulling the Earth back up. You tangled your hands in his soft hair, and his dug into the fabric of your jeans on your hips.

You both came up for air after a while, having migrated to the entrance of the kitchen. He had you backed up against the beam of the open doorway, tucking both sides of your hair behind you ear to see your face.

"Shouldn't be doing this," he mumbled, nipping at the warm skin on your neck.

"Maybe not," you conceded. I didn't mean you couldn't want it– what he could give you. You'd all done wrong things. "You could still stay."

"Yeah," he responded, pressing his body against yours and sweeping a hand over to cradle your lower back. "Still could."

Maybe it wasn't a lie. Maybe that glassy, far off look wouldn't be permanent. It could be like this. You could have a reason.

And yeah, maybe Joel knew more than he let on. Some things never really left him.

-

[crowandmousewritingco]

If You're Reading This

Pairing: Joel Miller x nb!reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Rating: PG-13, there's no spice. It's all angst bay-beeeeeee

Summary: You met Joel while out on a 'hunting run', you startle him and in return he almost shoots you. After everything settles the two of you get to talking and decide to stay in contact one of the only ways, via letters. Over the time writing each other, you grow feelings for him, and learn things about yourself that you don't know how he'll handle. Telling him, he goes silent, but you refuse to give up hope. Will your hope be enough to keep you going?

Author: Mod Crow (Got a new job so life has been ahhhhh)

Author's Note: The reader says their age. This was for @burntheedges' Roll-A-Trope! I was very back and forth on how I wanted this to play out, in the end I'm pretty happy with it.

Masterlist

Warnings: Language, mentions of suicide, and mentions of raiders and guns.

Dear Joel,

Thanks for not shooting me today, I wasn’t even in my best attire to die. I’m kidding. Not about the not shooting me thing. 

It was nice really meeting someone who didn’t want to kill me or rob me. It was also nice having the help dragging a deer all the way back to this place. I only hope my butchering and fileting skills aren’t getting rusty. But hey, if they are, you said something about you showing me “the way it’s done in the big beauty of Texas” or however you worded it. I know you aren’t here, but I need you to know that I’m currently laughing. I made myself laugh. Gods, I’m losing it aren’t I?

 Anyways, I should probably start cooking myself something to eat before the sun goes down. If you ever head this way and stop at this place, you should leave me a little letter or something. Obviously, I left this one for you in an obvious spot -and that’s what you should do as well- then after that we can start putting them in more well-hidden places, we can’t have someone finding them before we have a chance to. But that’s for the next letter.

-Y.F.

P.S. Y.F. means your favorite, I know what I am, you don’t have to tell me.

Hey Smartass,

Now that I like the sound of. Oh, and drop the formality, I’m not your pen pal or some shit like that. Ellie wanted me to tell you that “if you try to replace her as my favorite, she will stab you”. I don’t pick favorites. Just so you know. I haven’t had a favorite person in a while now…

God let’s stop talking about the sad shit anymore. I saw a baby squirrel on the porch as I was walking up. I thought maybe he had lost his mama or daddy; I’m thinking that’s what he also thought because when one of his -what I can only assume- parents came back they had scared that poor little thing so bad that he damn near jumped three feet high. I was kind of wishing you could have seen it, I remember you telling me how much you loved nature and all that stuff. Don’t read into that.

Anyways, I don’t know what it’s like heading up from the southwest, but Ellie and I ran into more raiders than we normally do. I don’t know why there’s more, but I’m not liking how things are looking.  

I left you some ammo and rations hidden in the fireplace. Ellie left you something, she wouldn’t tell me, besides that it was hidden in the bathroom. That’s all she told me, so I’m guessing that means good luck. 

-Joel 

I’m not calling you my favorite, I don’t have a favorite between you two nuisances 

Dear party-pooper,

Yes, that’s what I’m calling you from now on, you fucking party-pooper. ANYWAYS, I found your stash, thanks. The ammo was a life saver…literally…the rations could have at least been a good one. You left me some beef jerky (the only good thing in that damn ration), some stale ass cracker, and some unidentifiable fruit-like substance. 

The raiders though, they’ve actually been better. Based on my guess, I think they might have migrated up your way. If you think it’s getting too bad for a bit, I get that, don’t feel pressured to write me back whenever you’re here next. 

On a lighter note, Ellie hid a book that she’d think I’d like. So far, her shot in the dark has struck bull’s-eye. Tell her I said thank you. As for where she hid it -you’re gonna love this- she pulled the medicine cabinet off the upstairs bathroom’s wall, knocked out a small bit of drywall, and hid it in the wall before replacing the cabinet. It took me far longer than it should have, but who the fuck would look behind the cabinet on the wall? The cabinet, mind you, looked like it had never been pulled off the wall. Fuck, I really gotta give her credit for how creative she is with hiding places. You should take notes. Your hiding spots in the past have been…kinda in plain sight. Love you old man, but you suck at hiding. Expect, I give you credit to this last drop, up the chimney fluke. Maybe you still have it in you after all, old man.

Anyways…I left some things for you in the door of the fridge. It’s not much this time, things have been rough at this place. We let in this new couple, and they’ve been super suspicious. The first night they were here, the woman -Gabrielle- was found snooping around in the owner of the farm’s wife’s dresser. Gabrielle couldn’t give us a straight answer as to why she was snooping. That wasn’t even the weirdest bit, that same night the man -Kenneth- was snooping around in ALL of our shit. I woke up at gods only know, probably 3 or 4 in the morning. I didn’t think he got any of shit. I didn’t look though, and that’s on me. He got away with most of the things I was going to give you, what he didn’t take is hidden for you. I left Ellie some magazines I found about alternative bands from before the pandemic. I don’t even know if she knows what alternative music is, gods you probably don’t know what alternative music is. I’ll explain that to you in person one of these days. 

-Your favorite nuisance 

You fucking child, 

You and Ellie act like the exact same person sometimes I swear. Sometimes I feel like it’s just Ellie leaving me these notes. 

Forget all that, you said that the ammo I stashed for you came in handy? What happened? Are you okay? Were you injured? What happened to the other guy? That’s something I would have paid to see. If half of what the shit you’ve said in the past were true, then you’re a pretty good aim. 

What you left me enough, the granola was honestly a god sent. You have no idea how boring coffee was getting. Ellie also said -and I quote- “Hell yeah these bitches look sick.” I have no idea where she’s heard that, because it sure as hell wasn’t me. 

Backtracking -kind of- I know we’ve talked raiders, how have those fucking clickers been? I think because of that “migration” or whatever the hell you called it, they’ve been out there killing those fuckers while they snuck through the shadows. Our raider problem went up, but the clicker problem. It’s been too quiet recently. But following that thought, your raider problem went down, so that means your clicker problem got worse. Didn’t it? Fuck… You’re a pain in my ass, but I like this banter I get to have. You should come with Ellie and I back to our little place. It isn’t much, but Ellie’s been complaining that where we are isn’t “comfortable”. I swear she says what she says just to test my patience. But, yeah, Ellie would love it. She’d never shut up and it wouldn’t be me for once. Just give us the when and we’ll meet you here.

-Joel M.

Hey grumpy,

I think I like this nickname the best so far. I do swear one thing to you grumps, I am 100% NOT Ellie. I’m your…something. I’ve been kinda held up in my room at the farm this past week. I’ve been thinking about some things after the raiders. That’s not something I lied about; I am a pretty good shot. So was the leader of the little gang. He was 100% aiming for my head, I’m only alive because I got lucky. He drew his gun quicker than I did, he aimed quicker than I could, and he pulled that fucking trigger before I could…His gun jammed. It took me a minute to even register that I was still alive. When I realized though, gods, was I ready. Almost dying makes you really think about how you want to be remembered by people. 

I don’t even know if what I’m thinking would make sense to you. Ellie might, but all she’s ever known is…well whatever it is she grew up knowing. These are things that I haven’t thought about since…fuck, well before the outbreak. Bare with me as I try to figure out to explain this in writing that isn’t going to be a fucking novel. 

Actually, before I do that, I want to get this out there first. if you aren’t sure you want to be a part of this emotional blah, I got lucky. Ken left his bag open in Gabrielle’s room right next to her bag in her room! What’s even better? Neither of them were anywhere near the bags, Gabrielle was helping with dinner and Ken was helping with fence repair. I left you just under half of the ammo they had -hey, gotta keep myself safe- and Ken’s utility hatchet like thing (you’ll see what I mean). I also snatched you some more granola. I have no idea how this old couple is doing it, but they have so many oats. They also have a fucking bee house! You know what that means? Fresh honey! And just for you grumps, I snatched a mason jar for the two of you. Honey’s also good for a sore throat. I know it’s getting cold out there. I’ve actually been knitting (I know, I must be lying about my age. I’m not, I swear. I learned how to knit because of my grandma. When I was probably six or seven, I made a huge deal out of wanting to learn to do what my grandma was doing. So, she taught me. After the outbreak, I needed something to do with my hands, otherwise things…things would be incredibly different right now. Gods, sorry about the ramble.) some scarves for the two of you. You have no idea how much yarn got left behind in the stores. If after you read this, you decide you still want me to go with you I will. We can do it the weekend after next. Next week is my birthday and Marieann and George (the old couple of the farm) told me that it was “my day to relax and rest up after the hard year.” Who am I to go against what a sweet old lady tells me to do? That being said, I don’t like not knowing what’s going on and how the two of you are doing. At this point, what’s even the point of keeping track of birthdays anymore? Like, “Yay I lived another horrid year on this dying hunk of space rock, can’t wait to suffer through another one! Anyways, I'm sneaking out past curfew to leave you a note if the plan has changed. Anywho…I found more magazines for Ellie. I’ve hid them in the pantry. She’s smart. Your is hidden in the basement behind that dresser, it’s the same idea as what the kid did in the upstairs bathroom cabinet.

Back to the emotional blah…If anything I write doesn’t make sense, you can try asking Ellie. She may know. Gods, I thought it would be easier to write this out, not having to see your weathered (ignore that) expression change. To what? I don’t know. Anything? Fuck it…Joel when we meet, I thought I had figured myself out. When I met you, I was sure I was a woman. I don’t think that I am…I’m not a man either though. I’m neither? I don’t know how to explain this. Okay, so I was she/her when we met, you were -and still are- he/him. Well, if I’m neither of them I have to have a way to refer to myself, right? I do, instead of she or he, I’m…them. Or they! Well, it’s more like both, they/them. Gods I’m shaking so bad right now haha, I’m just really scared of losing you two…You two have been the first good thing since this shitstorm started. I know I can’t make you write me back, but I can ask you to at least leave me something saying you’ll either come back and write a new note or some kind of…I don’t know sign? That doesn’t feel like the right word, but note isn’t the word I want to use…I don’t know Joel, just please leave something. I don’t care how long it takes; I’ll keep coming back till I get another note from you. Even if that means I die doing this because you chose to leave, and I wouldn’t hate you for it. 

That’s all I’ve to say. I really do…like you Joel, when thinking, remember I am the person from all of those letters and the few times we met.

-Your Raven no    Magpie also no Crow now that’s one I like

Joel, 

Hey, I came back this weekend, I’m 26 now! Yay! I’m not going to lie; I’m terrified right now. The clickers are getting worse around the farm, they aren’t too bad on the way here yet, but I know they will be.

I checked to see if you took the stuff, and you did. I saw that Ellie left me a comic book and a band shirt from one of those mags I gave her. I can’t believe she was able to find one, let alone one in my size. I also saw that you left me some ammo and another ration. I know it isn’t much, but it’s something. It gives me hope, and that’s all most of us have nowadays. Along with that hope, I also hope that you'll come back again. If that’s the case, I’ve left you both some things, same places as last. 

Joel, for you, more granola (enough for the both of you), a scarf for you, some peach preserves (Marieann opened up some preserves she had made to be opened about this time), and some bread I baked. I warn the bread isn’t pretty, but with the chill, it should last a bit longer.

For Ellie, her scarf, a couple of mangas I found (this will be fun to hear how that goes), a Swiss army knife I found on a dead raider (I know it’s gruesome, but it’s the world we live in now), and a slightly used deck of cards. I felt like she could find a way to entertain herself why you do whatever it is you do when you want to be alone.

-Your hope filled Crow

Hey again,

You took the things again, and you left some more for me. It’s still something. No matter how little. It just hit me, these letters are going to be getting shorter and shorter until I hear from you huh?

Should I even keep writing to you? Maybe don’t answer that. Or do. You take all the time you need. I’m leaving you guys some more things, the same place as before.

-Your Crow

Hey, 

I’m sorry about how long it took, I’ll be honest, I didn’t understand at all, and it freaked me out a bit. I asked Ellie if she they understood it and they did. They also came to realize that about themselves too. No, I don't fully understand it, but I’m willing to learn.

Thanks for the scarves, they’ve really helped with the chill at night. Ellie was so intrigued by that one that I’m guessing was the manga. I have no idea if they figured it out, but they’re having a blast trying. 

The clickers have been a bit more active around us too. I wonder where they’re all coming from though. 

Ellie and I are ready to head out, just tell us when. We’ve gathered all we could, the rest of the stuff we’re leaving is replaceable. Thanks to your scarf we’ve managed to carry a bit more stuff, not the way you meant for them to be used but they’re multifaceted. 

I don’t know if Ellie has anything to leave, but I’m assuming it’s in the bathroom. I don’t have much to leave, I found some yarn. I just happened upon it when looting some cars on the main road. I also found a broken bow. I don’t know if you can fix it, but maybe that old man, George(?) could fix it, or maybe someone else in the house. They’re in the basement, it’s the only place they’d fit. 

I want to help you keep that hope alive. I have one of my own, I hope we can get somewhere warm and safe together.

Joel, with…

Holy fuck,

Joel, you came back?! Thank you fuck…thank you. If you could see me, I am a mess right now. Gods you’d get a kick. 

I wasn’t able to fix the bow, but George was! I guess he used to bow hunt back in the day. He said it may take him a bit; he has to dig out his tools. I’ll leave a letter the night before with an update. If you find a letter then there’s kink in the plans, if you don’t find a letter then it’s because I was there waiting, or I died. Or some other third thing, I like being dramatic sometimes. 

With this plan may be happening, I’m not leaving much. This time it’s a kindle of firewood. Dry firewood hidden in the sugar in a mason jar. I remember you saying you drank coffee, and you were growing tired of the taste. So have some sugar, make it sweeter. Maybe add honey too. 

-Your Crow

Dear Joel,

I know you hate the formality of these kinds of letters, but for once, just let it be. See the thing is I’m writing this as a “worst case scenario” kinda thing… I started writing about an hour ago for me, gods only know how long it’s been for you. To put in perspective the time difference, I’m writing this the same day I read your letter you had left, the letter about the plans about me coming with the two of you to find somewhere else. 

I don’t know what has happened to me to force my hand in leaving this letter, but if I had to take a shot in the dark, I’ve probably been shot by other survivors. I’ve been bitten. If I remember, I’ll try to come back and write what really happened. Anyways, I know we had a plan, I also know that you’re a strong man. You don’t need me; I would have just slowed you down. So now you have to promise me you’ll keep that kid safe. Oh, and if you happen to find yourself in Omaha -I know we’re several hundred miles away, but you never know- stop by 1004 Cicada drive. It’s where I was living when all of the shit hit the fan. Now, I won’t be there to give you the tour, so you better not go tracking mud or anything inside. 

Look, there are some things in that house that I think could be beneficial to you, I know you’ll find what you need. I have some things out in the garage, there’s some other things in the attic, and then there’s some things down in the basement’s crawl space. Now, it’s going to be dusty and dirty down there, but back before all of this, it was a beautiful basement. I had just finished painting it that beautiful blue color that has since been destroyed by some fucking raiders. Fuck, look at me gushing over my old basement. I must really sound like some weird fucker, huh? 

Anyways, if I’m dead and that’s why you’re reading this, I just wanted to tell you some things…Where do I even start? I guess I’ll start light, that’s what you do right? I don’t know why I keep asking questions, I don’t know your answers to them. Gods do I wish I did know your answers, writing this with the unknown has been killing me. If you could see me right now, you’d have a pretty good laugh, I’m shaking like the last fall leaf in a big dying tree in the middle of a tornado. Fuck, I’m rambling…Look I’m really happy we ran into each other when we did, that day you almost shot me in the forest -behind this decrepit house- I lied to you. You asked me why I was out there, I told you I was looking for some animals to catch. I wasn’t…I couldn’t take any more of this bullshit. So, I was gonna beat the zombies to my death, and I wasn’t giving them the satisfaction of bringing me back to be some brainless creature monster. I was going to paint a bit of the forest with gray matter. When you insisted on helping me because you also needed food, I was honestly kinda pissed. But now? Now I’m happy you stuck around. Joel, I don’t wanna make you feel any type of way but…You are the only reason I’m still here on this shithole of a planet. Also…you sticking around had affected me in ways I wasn’t expecting…Joel thanks to you Joel, spending all of that time with you, getting to actually know you, exchanging stories, all of that shit. All of that meant means far more than you could understand, and in that time, I grew to fell in love with you Joel. 

I should have told you in person not through a piece of paper. I know there isn’t much I can say now…. but I am sorry. I wish I could have told you in person, I really do, I wish I could have heard your lips say it back. I can only imagine how your raspy, yet honeysuckle sweet voice would say those three words “I. Love. You.” Gods the thought of it…

Anyways, if I keep going, I might accidently write you a book. For whatever reason it is that made me tell you where to find this, I’m happy I got to meet you when I did. Make sure to tell Ellie I said hi. You make sure you keep that girl safe or so Gods help you, Joel Miller. 

-Your Crow, with love

P.S. Joel I don’t know how much longer I have till I turn, but I just wanted to say before I die, I love you Joel, tell Ellie I love her too. I left you my remaining ammo and handgun. I left Ellie my lucky bullet casing -we both know she’ll love it- and my bracelet, the one with that little metal rabbit foot charm. You have no idea how excited I was to leave that lonely farm. I would finally be with people I cared about and who cared about me. Like who actually cared about me. 

I had a weird feeling that this is how things would go, so I planned. I know I’m leaving you my handgun and ammo. The handgun only has one bullet right now. You can fill it the rest of the way and leave, or you can do what I was too scared to do in the end…Kill me. Right now, I’m in the kitchen writing this. I don’t feel good, I feel like someone beat me with a lead pipe. My head is throbbing, and I can’t tell if I’m sweating because I’m hot with a fever, or if because of a cold chill. 

I thought I’d have a bit of time, you know, write you some more, pour my heart out on paper for you, but I don’t. It wasn’t a deep bite, but it was a bite, nonetheless. I tried to sneak past this clicker, I was doing so well until I lost my balance and stumbled, twisting my ankle. I didn��t try to fight it, I thought I’d have better luck running back here. I didn’t…  

I love you Joel, I really really ….

*Joel’s POV*

Your writing at the end was practically ineligible, trailed off almost. Joel wasn’t quite sure, what he was sure of, was the feeling of his heart break. An all too familiar break, one he hadn’t felt since Sarah’s mom…

Joel quickly and silently tore his path through the house, he was certain that you were playing some kind of sick cruel joke. 

“Joel. Joel! Come on man,” Joel could hear Ellie, but for some reason his legs wouldn’t stop. He had to prove Ellie wrong, that’s why. Yeah, that makes sense. “Joel, Jesus fucking Christ. STOP!” Hearing Ellie’s loud voice had pulled him to a halt. 

“Joel, I know you loved them man, I did too. I don’t know what hell-bent path you’re on, but you aren’t going to find them okay. I know,” Joel looked to Ellie, his unfocused eyes taking a moment. When his eyes finally focused, he could see it, he could see the tears that were pouring from Ellie’s face. That’s when he realized he too was crying. “I looked for them after I found their rabbit’s foot bracelet. I think they’re in the basement, the door is locked or jammed. I can’t get it open.” Joel swallowed the pained howls that wanted to rip through his tired body. Clearing his throat, Joel quickly wiped his face on his jacket sleeve. 

“You stay up here; I’ll get it figured out. No matter what, I don’t care if you're curious or something else, don’t under any circumstances come down there am I clear?” Joel clenched his jaw, he needed something to focus on something, so why not something he can do. 

Ellie never responded verbally, but Joel saw the stiff nod. Turning from Ellie Joel tried to make quick work of finding the things you left. It took him far less time than he expected. Joel also found a key; one he could only assume you left. It wasn’t particularly noteworthy or showy, but if he had to guess, it would unlock that basement door. Was that even something he wanted to do? Kill you? Or rather, kill the already dead you? 

Heading back to the dining room, Joel looked at the things he had found in the house. The one catching his attention first? Your handgun. The one with only one bullet loaded in it. Picking up the gun, Joel examined it in his hand, the handle was worn, faint groves noticeable to the touch. The metal on it had definitely seen better days, days when the metal was clean and before it was used in all of this shit. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat down, Joel took the key -along with the gun- to the basement door. Standing there, Joel simply stared at the handle. God only knows how long he stood there, but hearing Ellie walk into the dining room, pulled him back to the doorknob in hand. Gripping the gun tighter, Joel carefully put the key into the knob. Giving it a trying twist, Joel felt it resist for a second, before a soft ‘click’ could be heard. Gripping the knob, Joel twisted it slowly and carefully pulled the door open. There wasn’t a single sound coming from the basement, maybe you had found a way to do this. Something he was now dreading. Readying the gun, Joel carefully made his way down the stairs, trying to be as light as possible on his feet. 

Once his feet hit the basement floor, Joel clicked on his flashlight. The basement wasn’t huge by any means, but it did have a smaller room off the back wall. Walking towards the doorway, Joel practically held his breath to listen for the all too well known cl-

The sound of clicking slowly filling the air as he grew closer. The sound put him to a stop. Can he really do this? Yes, because you shouldn’t have to be one of them. Clenching his jaw Joel continued on. 

In the doorway, Joel could barely make out the shadow of you, or at least what used to be you. It was kind of hard to tell for certain where the bite was for certain, but it seemed as if it was your shoulder. As he stood there, Joel was silent, he wanted to remember what you were like, this wasn’t you and he knew that. You were gone by now, long gone and he knew that. Raising the gun, Joel closed his eyes for a moment. Opening his eyes, Joel cocked the handgun, the click of the hammer grabbing your attention. Staring at what used to be your face, Joel could feel the tears run down his face. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker my Crow.” His last word punched through the silence, with the loud echo of a spent shell.

'''''''

The divider was made by the beautiful @mikeykuns

All Works Taglist

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Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

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[kaytheday]

Dallas Winston In New York Headcanon

I've been wanting to do some of these for a little while because I am fascinated with Dallas's life before the events of The Outsiders.

Story Headcanon's

Dallas had a bad home life. His mother was in and out of the house and when he turned ten she was gone for good.

Later he grew to understand that his mother was a prostitute. 

His father canonically hit him and ignored him. I think this messed young Dallas up, and definitely contributed to his ‘look out for number one’ attitude.

He was ten years old the first time he was in jail or juvie or whatever they called it in the 1960s. He was put in jail for a robbery with some other boys.

Being in juvie for the first time also changed him. The reformatory in the Bronx wasn’t a good institution. While he did his time, other boys and the workers there beat on him, boys often didn’t have enough to eat, and the conditions were filthy. He came out hardened and meaner with black eyes and a selfish attitude.

He would be in and out of juvie or reformatory for the rest of his time in New York.

He was twelve when he started middle school and in the same year he started doing favors for an official outfit. He mostly just ran errands or did other low level stuff. Though this didn’t mean that he didn’t see anything terrible. He definitely did.

Later when he got into the 13-14 year old age, they let him do more high level crime stuff. 

He saw many murders while living in the impoverished neighborhood that he did. A couple of the ones were similar to the way he died. (getting shot while shooting at the police) Whether or not he got the idea from those shootings or it was in his subconscious can be debated. 

When he became an official mob associate, he became very paranoid and careful. After getting beat up by mob members for a stupid mistake, he became worried that he would be wacked.

He was anxious and was always watching his back. He worried constantly about being followed.

He was always prepared for a quick getaway, though he never originally planned on leaving New York City.

He left New York when he was 15 because he did a job wrong and accidentally got someone killed. Due to his paranoia he got out of town quickly and went down to Dallas Texas. 

While in Dallas he meets Buck Merrill who offers him a room in return for some work at the bar. That's how he gets into Tulsa.  

General Headcanon's

Dallas was born and raised in the Bronx. (I just see him as a Bronxy boy)

He got his St. Christopher's necklace from some Roman Catholic guy who lived in his building. The guy gave him a jacket as a favor and the necklace was in the pocket. He slept on this guys couch more than once because of his dad.

He learned how to bartend by watching bartenders at the Snakehead bar. Which was a gang hang out for some guys Dallas was associating with. 

He quickly learned not to trust anybody. He gathered this through his interactions in his home life and gang stuff. Because of this, he didn't have very many close friends and was always disappearing when he thought people were mad at him.

There were some kids in his building that used to beat him up. They stopped when they heard he had gangster friends.

He watched many gangsters die, he threw up the first time but after that he became indifferent to it. 

When he left New York, he took none of his parents' possessions. There was nothing he wanted.

There was one night a few weeks before Dallas left for good that his father was beating him. In between hits Dallas managed to get a gun out of his pocket. His father stopped and left the house. Dallas still doesn’t know why he didn’t kill him. 

He cried after his mom left.

He stopped crying all together when those kids made fun of him and then beat him up so bad he could hardly walk for the next few days. The next time he cried was in the hospital when died.

Upon comparing the reformatory he spent time at in New York versus the reformatory in Tulsa, he would say that the one in Tulsa was significantly nicer.

[beuatifulbuttercup]

pjo/hoo characters who use a gun (bc it's cannon we know camp has them)

Drew Tanaka- This bitch refuses to learn to fight so Piper says fuck it and allows her to use a gun. She's surprisingly good at it.

Will Solace- He's from Texas, do I need to say more? He probably knew how to shoot a gun before he got to camp.

Malcolm Pace- IDK man the gays deserve guns

BONUS- the Hermes kids are not allowed guns. They're just not. Those dumbasses forget to turn on the safety on. Even though training is with fake rubber bullets it still resulted in someone losing and eye.

[sars-wulf]

From Dust to Dust AU explanation:

The story behind this AU is that Anne is a farm girl. She lives in the new state of Texas, and is your average honest farmer. But one day, when she’s away from home, the outlaw, Bog and his gang raid her farm under orders from mayor Andrias to squash any dissenters. Anne’s parents are vocal about Andrias’ acts of corruption and they’re a thorn in his side, so he has them killed. They hurt Hop Pop, and scared Sprig and Polly.

Anne actually meets them on her way back, and Bog says “you’d better go on home, Boonchuy.” He doesn’t kill her because he doesn’t see her as a threat.

She arrives to the burning farm, and is just in time to see her parents take their last breath. They die warning her not to do anything, as Andrias is untouchable. But Anne doesn’t listen.

She takes her father’s revolver, and her mother’s bloody yellow poncho, and leaves in the middle of the night to avenge them.

On her journey, she catches up with bog and his gang, but they defeat her before they shoot her in the chest. They leave her body for the coyotes to eat, but her trusty steed, Bessie, drags her to a light in the darkness. This light is the camp of one Tritonio. Tritonio patches Anne up, and teaches her how to shoot a gun, shoot on horseback, and over all just how to survive. They even rob a train together!

After Anne learns all she can from him, he leaves (not after stealing her cash). Anne wanders into a bar to find a job doing bounty hunting, and encounters Sasha “the blood heron” Waybright.

Sasha helps Anne retrieve her stolen horse, and they end up bonding over wanting to capture and kill Bog. Turns out that Bog was part of Grime’s gang, and he ran off after shooting Grime in the arm, leading it to get amputated. They’re both after revenge. They end up bonding even more and Sasha catches feelings first. She rides off into the night as she can’t fall in love, she’s a hardened outlaw. So she leaves Anne alone, heart broken.

ATP, Anne has made a name as Calamity Anne. She’s a bonafide outlaw now, and she’s getting closer and closer to Bog and his gang. One day, she walks into a bar and encounters the sheriff, Marcy.

Marcy was Anne’s childhood friend, and they had a sort of strange will they won’t they thing. Marcy has been looking for Anne all this time, and Anne is looking for clues on Bogs whereabouts. They talk for a bit, but Anne finds out that Marcy is supposed to bring her in. She panics but a confidant of Bog’s sees her and calls out her name and causes a bar fight.

Marcy is like “YOU’RE CALAMITY ANNE?!?”

And Anne is like “Did the shoot out clue you in or was it the guy calling my name out?”

Marcy tries to convince Anne to give up her outlaw ways, but Anne is hellbent on killing Bog, and then going after Andrias. Anne catches up with Bog and his gang, and she kills them, FINALLY. But Marcy was watching from a distance and she’s shaken by how cold blooded Anne has become. What happened to the warm farm girl she fell in love with?

Marcy is also gathering evidence and documents to expose Andrias’ corruption. She begs Anne to wait, but Anne can’t wait. She needs to see that man dead in the ground. They part ways, finding that they can’t be together, if Anne is an outlaw and Marcy is sheriff. Anne rides off into the sunset, her heart grows colder as she hears Marcy’s cries for her to come back.

Now, about sasharcy. When Marcy was just a deputy, she met Sasha. Sasha wanted to get some incriminating documents for her gang to use. So she used Marcy, and basically swindled her into falling in love with her. Unfortunately (fortunately), Sasha kinda felt something back. So she runs away with the documents, never to be seen again. Marcy had her heart broken that night, and it was one of the reasons she doesn’t trust Sasha after they all get together.

One day, deputy Yunan is sent to capture Anne. After an intense firefight, Anne is captured, and dragged to the town to be executed. Sasha hears about this, and decides to save her, as she’s done some soul searching and doesn’t want to give up on love anymore.

Marcy also hears about this, but by the time she makes it back, Anne has already disappeared and the town is in chaos. She displays the evidence to everyone and gets Andrias outcasted from the town. But after that, she runs after Anne and Sasha, hoping to catch up with them. She also discards her sheriff badge, tired of politics and the job she’s become disillusioned with.

Marcy catches up with the two outlaws, and joins them in trying to go after Andrias, who has now fell into his role as a crime lord. Anne learns to open her heart up again, and finally accepts the two women as her romantic partners, (only after a lot of sweet talking and I’m sorry’s). Ofc Sasharcy gets together after they have an argument and tussle on the ground, kissing. Hate kisses!

There will be more details later, but this is what I have for now!

Thanks for reading all of my rambling lol

[stagbeetleboy]

I literally can’t stop thinking about how bad Texas chainsaw massacre 2022 was.

The conflict was poc lead gentrification, where they were attempting to chase out the residents of a white town. And that the scary poc trying to steal an old lady’s house and remove her confederate flag causes her to die of a heart attack. (The white final girl feels real bad about this) (the final girl is the one where supposed to sympathize with)

The secondary conflict was the final girl that was traumatized by a school shooting learning to get over her anti gun stance and pick up a gun and defend herself.

[wcters]

𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗡 𝗧𝗢 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘

pairing: brad colbert x cowgirl!reader

word count: 1.5k+

summary: in which brad learns to love country in his own way

warnings: enemies (country style) to lovers, swearing, pda, insensitive jokes, outdated grammar and humour, army language, violence, use of guns, weapons | this is based on the fictional characters from the series generation kill, not the actual war veterans. this is no way intended to hurt or disrespect the veterans

You had known how to shoot a gun since you were a little girl. Not a marine style gun, but you know how to shoot a shotgun, and damn . . . Were you good. Those skills and the fact that you were a hard worker and had tough skin got you accepted to join the marines.

It was hard, especially around mostly men, and people who judged and doubted your every movement. But you were raised by your parents to believe in yourself, and you only needed yourself and some determination to get where you wanted to go . . . And that men were stupid (surprisingly, that one came from your father). That’s how you got here, cowboy hat on your head and bag and gear in hand as you walked towards the tent where you were sleeping. You had already talked to the Lieutenant colonel and were now being led by First lieutenant Nate Fick with a reporter from the Rolling Stone beside you.

You were making small chat, talking about why you were both here when you arrived at the tent. “Pappy. I gotta be at battalion for a while, so make sure nothing happens when I'm there,” Nate started as you stopped walking. You could’ve sworn you saw everyone’s mouth drop open. “This is a writer who's gonna embed with us. He's from Rolling Stone, so be gentle. This is Corporal Y/n Y/l/n and she’ll be joining us. Keep it in your pants.” He finished and headed out.

Pappy, as he was called, didn’t say anything before he finally shut his mouth. “Hey pretty mama-“ “don’t start that shit with me.” You told him. Men around you started to laugh. “Listen up!” You yelled out. “Number one: I don’t want to suck your dick and two: i will take your dick off if you touch me,” you looked around the room. “Now, if you would show me where I’m staying that would be much appreciated.” Brad could hear the southern twang in your voice and swore that even though his dick got hard from seeing a girl as hit as you, you would be annoying. He hated country.

Soon enough, you were headed away from base after some pizza and had learned who you would be with: the reporter who’s name was Evan, Brad Colbert, Ray Person, and Gabriel Garza. You sort of knew what you were expecting from them when Ray and some other guys found out Evan wrote beaver hunt, but it was a bit awkward when you first got in.

You had your gun out the window, focusing on the scenery ━━ if you could call it that ━━ instead of the silence when Ray started to talk. “So . . .” he started as Brad mumbled a “oh no”, “where are you from?” “Texas. Small little town in the buttfuck middle of Texas.” You told them, eyes still focused on the area around you. “Are you a cowgirl then?”

You raised your eyebrow and turned to look at him. “Sure. I mean, depends on what you mean by that.” “Oh you know . . . Like cowgirl. Like close to country but not country.” “Cowgirl is country.” You and Brad said at the same time. Ray looked at Brad, and then winked. “You guys are telepathic right now.” You let out a laugh and let Ray continue to rant on.

“Headed down south to the land of the pines, and I’m thumbin’ my way into North Caroline.” You started to sing softly when Brad let out a grunt. “No country.” You raised an eyebrow. “He hates country.” Ray clarified. “Oh, I guess we might have a problem then,” you replied, “you won’t like me.”

You were right. Brad didn’t like you. He knew you tried to stop being so much like yourself, but you were a literal cowgirl. Like if someone told him “picture a cowgirl” there you were. You and Ray always broke out into country songs and the southern twang is yours was just too much for him. Brad didn’t really want to get to know you, but when you two were on watch one night while everyone else in the Humvee slept, it couldn’t be helped. That is when Brad learned about who you truly were. You were totally as “country” as he thought, but you had a normal childhood. You went to school, had friends, and everything else Brad did. You weren’t homeschooled and didn’t have thousands of pigs and chickens. You had chickens, and horses, but no pigs . . . Or cows.

He learned about your dad and how he taught you to shoot, how he encouraged you to join the marines if that’s what you wanted, having to fight twice as hard to get the third of the recognition. It was nice talking to you, he realized, and revealed a lot about his childhood than he would’ve to anyone else. He didn’t know it yet, but there were feelings blooming in his chest, and yours too.

To everyone’s surprise ━━ except for Ray, because even though they acted like they hated each other, he knew Brad like the back of his hand ━━, you and Brad started to get along. After that night on watch, you both realized the other wasn’t as bad as you both thought. You thought Brad as an egotistical asshole to put it lightly, but you would still work with him and save his life (even if it was just because you didn’t want to do a fuck load of paperwork and make him say thank you), and then you learned who he actually was.

He was a marine who cared even if he didn’t act like it, be always put people first before him, and was a gentleman at heart. You two became a duo and were always seen together. Brad had become accustomed to you songs and would sometimes join in when you weren’t looking. You two would flirt with each other, and not knowing , you both meant it.

Well, you didn’t know the other meant what they said until there was a close enough call where one of you got confident enough.

You didn’t know it yet, but it was close to the end of the war. You, Gabe, Colbert, and Trombley were surveying a field outside of Al Kut as Humvee’s drove on the road beside you. You had come across a dead Iraqi in a firing position. “They all got blankets on to

hide their heat signatures, right, Sergeant Colbert?” Trombley asked as you all gathered around the dead man. “A week ago, they didn't know we could see their thermals at night. Now they're adapting.” Brad replied. You snorted, “Brad hate to break it to you, but I don’t think it worked for him.”

All of a sudden there was an explosion in front of you and you felt arms wrap around your waist and pull you down as the person who was holding you yell “get down!” You couldn’t hear what was happening around you, only Brad’s voice in your ear reassuring you it was going to be okay.

None of you moved until the shooting stopped. Brad kept his head down as he grabbed your radio and spoke into it. “Two Actual, this is Two One. Who the fuck is shooting at us?” “I’d like to know that too.” You added. “Fuckin' L.A.P.D. cops from Delta! They fucking love shooting Mexicans.” Gabe spoke up from beside you and you looked up and turned to him.

“It was Alpha, Gabe. Alpha. Mistakes happen.” Brad looked at him, then tried to get up. He helped you up and let your waist go. “Not mistakes like that, Brad.” You replied. “Everyone likes to shoot Mexicans, even Mexicans.” Trombley said.

The group of you started walking back to the group of Humvee’s on the road. “What was that back there, Mr. Colbert?” You teased him. “Pretty handsy if you asked me.” “No one asked you.” He shot back, small smirk on his face. “No, but don’t want to know if I liked or not?” “I know you did, not shut the hell up and kiss me.”

He roughly grabbed your waist again and pulled you in, pressing your lips to his. There were sounds of whistling and “Brad’s getting some!” but you didn’t give them any attention as you wrapped your hands around his collar and pulled him closer. When you pulled apart, your foreheads leaning together as your breath mingled with the others.

“You’re a dickhead, Brad Colbert.” You smiled. “Likewise, cowgirl.”

“I lost faith in the world a long time ago,” Brad said to you as you sat on the front of the Humvee, soaking in the few moments with these people who you learned to trust with your life, “but when I found you, you were my last hope . . . You still are.” You smiled at him as he wrapped his arms around you. “Even if you are a whiskey tango fuck.”

You shoved him a little bit he kept his arm around you and just pulled you into him tighter. “Hope you know that this means you’ll have to be around my whiskey tango attitude all the time.“ “I’ve become used to it.”

[soleminisanction]

Since Jason has a lot of conservative talking points, like his war on drugs or punitive justice, I wanna see a fic that explores that in relation to Tim coming out. Let Jason respond negatively, let it drive a wedge between him and the rest of his family, and ultimately be the cause of Jason looking at his own beliefs critically. Let that be a huge part of his redemption arc. Meanwhile lmao Tim doesn't really care except Bruce and Dick are fussing and take him out to a baseball game.

I could see that being interesting with the right writer, though TBH if Jason was written to respond negatively, I feel like it would be less about "conservative talking points" for him, in a political sense, and more from a more nebulous social sort of toxic masculinity -- y'know, that thing straight people do where they learn you're same-sex attracted in some way and they start immediately assuming you're attracted to them specifically, that you're going to hit on them or oggle them in the changing room or whatever.

That feels a little more in line with Jason as a character in terms of potential flaws that could then get a negative response from the rest of the family and provoke a change of heart. The way he gets written reminds me a lot of the libertarians I've known in Texas and Alaska who don't care who you fuck but think it's their god-given right to rig their property with land mines and shoot anyone who looks at them funny.

Nah, the character who tends to get written with full conservative political talking points, on top of a canon personality with some pretty blatant heteronormative baises that mean she really should've responded more negatively than she was written to, is Steph. Little miss "I need to defend the suburbs from the invasion of inner-city Black thugs gangsters with guns" who rants about how much she hates Bill Clinton and thinks the guy who's very obviously trying to jump her like a poorly-trained dog in her Batgirl run is clearly dating the female friend he called a bitch in his first line of dialogue, right up until she sees him hug an unnamed male friend, at which point she (or at least her audience) apparently? decided he was gay??? despite the fact that he spends the rest of the series making sad puppy dog eyes anytime she shows another man affection.

That's not even getting into all the times she accused Tim of cheating on her at the drop of a hat...

(Yes, I'm still salty about the Tim Drake Pride Special bullying Tim into outing himself to Steph to soothe her delicate ego and let her play the ~perfectest most supportive widdle ally who ever lived~. I don't blame Fitzmartin for it at all but fuck that shit.)

[auroradragon]

Border Chase {Frontier Part 1} Alejandro x F!Reader

Summary: You're an American who's in the special forces. (c/n) in the fic is short for Code name. You were commanded to join colonel Vargas and his second in command Rodolfo Parra who are part of Los Vaqueros, along the border to capture Hassan Zyani.

Warnings: Violence, gun violence, near-death experience, death, cussing, etc.

Also... I've never learned Spanish, I really apologize for this especially if I were to get anything wrong grammar-wise, so for all my Spanish-speaking girlies, please ignore anything that may say or imply the reader doesn't know Spanish :)

Gif by icaxrus on Tumblr

You heard the yelps of coyotes as you walked along the border U.S. and Mexico wall looking at the dirt, dried brush, and cacti beyond the tall rusted fence. You were unsure of the area around you don't know much about the territory surrounding the border of Mexico. Although ever since you’ve been put on missions all over the country and out, you’ve learned to gain familiarity and adaptation to new and foreign places.

Laswell called you late that night since knowing you were down south of Texas lately at an army base. You were a highly trained and skilled soldier, you had earned your ranks because of your intelligence and combat skills, so when Laswell called you that night, she knew it wasn’t making a mistake. The two of you had met each other in person a few times and gained her friendship fairly quick. The feelings you had towards her when it came to trust was mutual.

You were provided with information about two men you’d be meeting up with. Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo Parra. Why you were being put with two of the best soldiers in the Mexican Special Forces? You had no idea. But you didn’t push the question onto Laswell as you truly believed she knew what was best for you and everyone else involved in the situation.

You wore your American flag on your thick black bullet-proof vest. You had hooked your gun holders to your hip and loaded up on ammo. You were in El Paso Texas, a place you were barely familiar with, and on the search for a terrorist named Hassan Zyani, who was trying to illegally cross the U.S.-Mexican border. You knew nothing about him so far, the only thing you did know is that he’s a threat to this country, and is believed to be targeting major cities in the U.S., you weren’t told how, but you found it better not to pry.

You trail along the border listening and watching closely for any sign of smugglers. You stop in your tracks beyond a tinted light for cover before reaching for your mic that was strapped to your chest.

“This is (CN), where are these boys I’m supposed to meet?” You ask Laswell on the other line.

You wait a moment before she responds over the intercom.

“You can’t miss them if they cross over, I’ll put you on with them,” And then there was radio silence.

You heard a thump behind you from a distance. You quickly turn your whole body with your gun out. You face it toward the noise, the area was pitch black, and you didn’t see a single source of light. You started moving your feet towards the noise, still hiding from the yellow lights than hung along the wall to keep yourself invisible. Your steps were light and quiet as you made your way toward the caliginous terrain. You heard another loud pound against the solid dirt as though someone had just jumped.

“Stop right the-” You were about to flick on the light on your gun before you were cut off by the sound of intimidatingly close gunfire. The smell of gunpowder filled your nose. You dove behind a large rock as a shield unsure of where the fire was coming from,. The rust bars made the sound of bullets echo, making it impossible to tell where the source was coming from. You never heard a single bullet flick against the rock cover, so you weren't sure what the hell they were shooting at.

Then the fire ended almost as soon as it started. You heard static across your headset. While a few voices broke in.

“Despejado” You heard along with a few other lines you couldn’t translate since your Spanish sucked ass. You got up from where you sat, choosing to keep your light off to prevent jump scaring the two, you knew the men were Laswell's. You heard the sounds of hallow rusty iron as you see two men with their lights making their way down, as they haven’t yet seen you as you made your way towards them

“This is a friendly, please do not shoot me when you get down here,” you said over the intercom. You heard the thump of their boots hitting the floor. You walked up to them with your hands up so they wouldn’t shoot you, your gun wrapped with a strap around your shoulder.

“You let him get away?” The first man stomped towards you with anger expressed on his face. He wore tactical gear in army colors. Classic beige and army green. His brows were furrowed, had black hair, a thin beard, and intense dark eyes seething with anger and frustration. Your brows mirrored his, except with utter confusion. You didn’t see anyone pass through after the gunfire, hell you knew nothing about the area you were in. 

“What- I didn’t see-” You started but the other man finished before you could

“Alejandro, we have to go” The other was getting irritated, but nowhere near as Alejandro

“Maldito gringas” He muttered before turning his back to you.

You rolled your eyes understanding what he just said.

The whole group of now three had turned in the direction where an intense crash was heard. You lifted your AR to your chest, both hands grasping it as you made your way with the boys who had already left before you to a citizen’s gate. They continued talking to each other in Spanish, probably expecting you to understand (you in fact did not)

“I’m sorry I don’t know very much Spanish, is there something you wanted me to do?” You genuinely asked.

“Why were you sent here if you can’t even understand what the hell we are talking about?” Alejandro asked in his deeper voice and thick accent.

“Like I said, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be able to get anything done if Ya'll won’t help me understand” You huffed in more of a mumble to keep your voice quiet. You felt awkward in this position, your first impression with them was awful and now you felt like you were making demands from someone you just met.

“We are moving into town, we have to be careful about the Cartel, there will be more of them than us… That’s what he said'' The man translates with a much softer tone than Alejandro's

“Thank you…” You smiled through your words, hoping he’d get the idea that you never intended the venom in your previous words

“Rodolfo” He states his name

“(c/n)” You chose to say your code name, a habit that came out of preserving your identity.

You waved your lights around the ground listening to the boys’ footsteps and the sound of a dog barking in the neighborhood you were approaching.

“HEY! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY YARD” You heard a man call from his home.

“Won’t you guys get in trouble for this?” You ask as Alejandro, who’s crossed into the U.S., unsure if police around the area know what’s going on, and that it's a bigger deal than what they usually see.

You are well aware of how hateful some people in the state of Texas are, and if they had any reason to shoot a motherfucker, they would.

“Yes” Rodolfo answers, with 0 hesitation

"Lovely" You sarcastically muttered followed by a sigh

Your group gets through the gate into the backyard of someone’s trailer home.

“Someone’s out there” You heard a woman state from her home as you flickered your light towards her as she stood in front of the window

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?!” The man storms out of his home, his door slammed against the side of his trailer.

“We are special forces. Stay inside” They quickly stumble back into their home with their hands up as Rodolfo points his gun toward them. 

You ran across the street and made your way inside someone’s home through the garage, you couldn’t help but know you were completely violating someone and their property, but you still continued compelling to orders that Alejandro gave. You kept silent until you made your way through the home where the Terrorist, Hassan, had already flown through. The couple living there were scared shitless but again, you didn’t stop and continued through their gate and down an alleyway behind Alejandro and in front of Rodolfo.

The roar of an engine echoed through the alleyway. And like deer in headlights, you stood finding your nearest place to hide before Alejandro gripped your layered forearm and pulled you down next to him. You crouched behind a white vehicle clinging close to the man to prevent yourself from getting shot. You glanced up at him to see he was looking at you through the corner of his eye. You shuffled closer to his side to be able to peek out of the corner of the vehicle letting your gun go ablaze with Rodolfo following right after. It was hard to see. Dust flew into your vision, stinging your eyes, and the truck's headlights didn't help. When you heard no more gunfire, you knew it was safe to move.

With sirens blasting around the community, you made your way into another home and were told where Hassan was located. When the three of you ran into the street you were stopped by a roadblock of red and blue lights. They demanded you put you conceal your weapons as you walked forward with the boys. You place your gun on the street as you make your way to the police with your hands up in surrender.

“I'm Colonel Alejandro Vargas, special forces! We’re after a known terrorist!” He defends himself. Yet a cop had wrapped his arms behind his back ready to handcuff him.

A cop with a cowboy hat stops one of the cops from cuffing him, saying we were called by Laswell

“Heh, hard to tell you boys apart from the Cartel,” He says leaving you and Rodolfo stealing a ���what the fuck’ glance from each other. As the cop begins to let go of Alejandro and asks where the suspect is then you see it. A pin of a military weapon races towards you from the second floor of the house behind the cop cars. By the time you had reacted, it was too late.

Everything around you is on fire, the bodies of cops lying motionless and bloody. Your whole body ached on the ground. Your back felt like it was banging against your body. You knocked your head down against the concrete too. Everything around you trembled and moved 100 miles an hour. The muffled noises slowly become audible. You roll on your side, breathing heavily after getting the wind knocked out of you. You press your weight on your aching arms and stumble up while grabbing your gun off the road. You pressed your back against the now-destroyed police vehicle. Your heart pounded against your chest, and at the same rate as your back and head pounded.

“Rodolfo! Alejandro! Are you okay?” You yell needing the sound of their voices to reassure you. The flames were blinding you from any view of the guys. The Cartel’s guns shot through the police car you tucked behind. You groaned in pain before getting up to face your weapon towards the enemy and let out a few rounds.

You walk low around the flames in search of your group members. You stand tall as you get past the blistering heat to find an enemy above Alejandro. You kick the butt of your gun against the man before he slumped against the pavement. When Alejandro looked up at you to see your bleeding forehead and loss of breath. You offered a hand. He looked at your hand then back up at you. He grips his hand in yours and stands up a little slumped, possibly in the same amount of pain as you. He mumbles a thank you. Rodolfo ran to the building while you and Alejandro keep the firefight outside to cover him. 

Over a matter of minutes of a gunfight, you smelled a strong stench of smoke, nothing like the gunfire smoke from the bullets, no, it was different. Flares started emerging from the side windows of the house. Your eyes bolted open in fear for Rodolfo. Alejandro picked up on it mere milliseconds after you. You both looked at each other and knew what was flying through both of your minds. “Stay” He commands you. You stand up, watching Alejandro run inside the building. You heard the two continuously talk over the com in Spanish, again didn’t understand what they were saying but you at least knew they were still alive. You never took your eyes off the house waiting for them to emerge from the flames. After a while, they stopped talking over the coms and your body tensed in panic.

“Rodolfo, do you copy?” Your finger is still on the button of your mic, too scared to move it

“Alejandro?” Your voice cracks

You stood in front of the home to see Alejandro carrying a weak Rodolfo out of the front door. You immediately run to Rodolfo and help Alejandro pick up his other side to move him away from the house. An ambulance and more cop cars pulled up near the burnt cars. You carried Rodolfo toward the ambulance, they busted the door open and brought him inside. He forced himself to sit on the ground of the ambulance so they wouldn't place him any further.

“I’m fine-I’m fine” He coughed. His face was covered in smudges of smoke, and so was Alejandro's

You ran to a medic and got some water for him, you quickly gave him a bottle and watched as he chugged it down.

“... Are you sure you're alright?” You ask. He looks from his water up to you. He simply nods with a smile that only lasted a second.

“Still alive, aren’t I?” He asks. You give a bit of a skeptical glance before a medic came up to you.

You waved them off saying you were fine, but you were then given another water bottle to give to Alejandro. You look behind you to see him take a step back into an area that wasn’t being overrun by medics and cops. You were about to turn and walk to him before Rodolfo called for you.

"(c/n)" You look back at Rodolfo

"Don't take any... Rude things Alejandro says to heart" He looked up at you from where he still sat in the ambulance.

"It's nothing against you... He's just a complicated person" Rodolfo lets out a smile. You stick a hand out in front of him to shake.

"Thanks, Rodolfo" You smile as he shakes your hand as a farewell.

You turn around again and start to jog over to Alejandro but keep your distance as soon as you saw how strained his shoulders were. You slowly walk over closer to him and call out for him. He turns around aggressively before getting close to your face.

“If you captured Hassan as soon as he crossed the border, this never would have happened.” He spits, with an intense stare that is intense and menacing. You could feel your eyebrows dropping into a frown just for a second, but caught yourself looking at him with a glare, trying to give a confident lie, but really you already blamed yourself. You hadn’t given yourself time to think about the cops that were killed, who probably had families they expected to go home to that night, all because you weren’t quick enough to catch Hassan before he booked it to civilians. All because you didn't make a move as soon as you heard the first thump.

“I’m sorry” You squeak at this point. Every bit of assertiveness you had in yourself was now gone. 

“'I’m sorry' isn’t going to fix what just happened” He glared and burnt his disappointment into your soul. Your fraud façade was over, and your face finally fell with shame.

You shoved the plastic bottle into his hand before looking back up at him. You turned away from him and walked back talking into your mic, calling for Laswell confirming your mission was unsuccessful and that Hassan got away.

(Word Count: 2740)

A.N I'm literally going to apologize for every story I make since I'm fairly new to posting fanfics. So if it's bad I'm really sorry :,) But if you made it this far, thank you so much for bearing with it, and Ily sm.

More Alejandro x Reader:

[crackdaddycaine]

About the Leftöver Crack song “Shooticide” & its inspiration by Stza Crack

When I was 12, my step-father killed himself & the news was broken to me by an NYPD officer that was just inside of the apartment door when I got home from school. I was shocked, saddened & surprised. It felt like an ambush & they had no business being in our home. It was not a crime scene & was it the officers place to tell me this news when my mom was already there?

Growing up a block from Bellevue hospital, I saw police corruption, brutality & the victims of their violence up close all of the time & although I was “taught” that the police were there only to help us, as I grew, I soon learned to only loathe & fear them.

In 2014, with the public's access to video camera's on their smart-phones & with the advent & simplification of social media posting, holding police accountable for murdering people seemed to almost become a reality when news coverage momentarily shifted from the police departments “official” stories to the documented stories of civilian eye-witnesses. The evident & widespread abuse of police power & their flagrant lack of respect for human life started to trend until it was part of mainstream media & and unavoidable national conversation.

Then, all of a sudden, the "fad" waned, the media moved on to something else & nothing changed at all. Mandatory body cameras were either not worn or routinely shut off &/or "broken" at critical moments during confrontations with often unarmed black individuals many of whom were not even suspects in any crime.

With the botched “no-knock” raid that left Breonna Taylor murdered that March in Kentucky to the surfacing of footage of Sandra Bland’s arrest in Texas years earlier that led most people to the conclusion that she was murdered by the same police that had her detained illegally in a jail cell, by the time that George Floyd was murdered in Minneapolis, the people witnessing his mistreatment knew what to do & their film proved what most of us already knew, that the police were cruel & sadistic, but, as filming police violations became the norm & police started going on public trials for murder, the disturbing trend became more & more evident: the police were not only poorly trained & often racially motivated, but, time & time again, they explained that they were "scared". Now, this could seem like a "strategy" to get a police officer out of a murder charge, but, in the wake of the Uvalde school shooting & in light of the evacuations of their own precincts during national anti-police protests in major cities like Minneapolis & Seattle, even leaving behind guns, ammo & prisoners without food or water, a veritable checklist of state-irresponsibility, it became painfully obvious that police were very rarely "heroic" & almost always cowards.

Shooticide is about how the police in America have undermined their own authority by "outing" themselves as terrified of just about everything & that the farce of the slogan "to protect & serve" only applies to themselves & that 9 times out of 10, when they have their guns drawn, they are all pissing themselves in panic & afraid of their own shadows. Emptying their clips & their bladders simultaneously.

That's why "Defunding" the police is such an ill conceived idea (besides the fact that one vowel changed turns that slogan into “Defend the Police”, coincidence? Nobody’s that stupid, not even the cops), when these officers are so badly trained, less money means even less training. We believe that fundamentally, in its wide-spread corruption & systemic racism, policing needs to be abolished & people need to figure out a way to elect folks from their own communities to actually keep "the peace" instead of sowing chaos & fear through corruption & violence. The war on drugs needs to be suspended & condemned. And the judicial system needs to be reimagined & not as the even less equitable, zero tolerance of the cancel culture that is an essentially fascist style of moral policing that relies entirely on one person’s own testimony while ignoring any & all forensic evidence & the testimony of the only other witness present. Corruption & injustice collide with social media & the back lash of moral outrage & misinformation that used to set the dissenting & bigoted right apart from logical thinkers, but is now reserved for leftist activists in a political ruse to destroy us & our goals.

These are the themes in the song lyrics of “Shooticide”.

[1loser-going-2-hell]

Richard Ramirez

Born February 29, 1960, Died June 7, 2013 (Age 53)

Richard Ramirez was an American serial killer who was active during the mid 1980s, who was mainly known as the Night Stalker, but was also known as the Valley Intruder and the Walk-In Killer. Ramirez killed at least 14 people and committed 21 assaults, most of which took place during home invasions in the Los Angeles area, which caused a panic that caused gun sales to go up.

CHILDHOOD

Richard Ramirez was born in El Paso, Texas, on February 29, 1960 and was the youngest of 5 siblings. His parents, Mercedes and Julian Ramirez, were Mexican immigrants, and his siblings all had birth defects due to the fact that his mother worked in a boot factory that exposed her to harmful chemicals while pregnant with them. Richard's father, a former policeman in Mexico, was prone to having violent fits of anger that caused him to be physically abusive to his family. When Richard was 2, a dresser fell on his head, which caused a large laceration, a swing hit his head when he was 5, which caused him to have epileptic fits, and according to Biography.com he also suffered multiple other head injuries when he was young. He was also diagnosed with epilepsy after he had seizures in class.

When Richard was 12, he became close to his older cousin, Miguel, who also went by "Mike." He used to be in the military, and fought in the Vietnam War. Miguel told Richard about the torture he had inflicted onto multiple Vietnam women, and shared some polaroid photos with Richard that showed Miguel posing with the decapitated head of a woman. Mike also taught Richard things that Mike had learned in the military, like how to fight.

One quote from Richard Ramirez's biographer when he spoke to A&E network states: "When his cousin showed him those photographs, Ramirez became sexually aroused. And it was right around the age of 13." Also when Richard was 13, he witnessed his cousin, Miguel, shoot his wife, Jessie, fatally in the face with a revolver. Miguel was found not guilty by reason of insanity and was released after four years of incarceration at the Texas State Mental Hospital. After he was released, he and Ramirez continued contact with each other. When Richard was 15, he got a job at the Holiday Inn, and was given the master key to all the rooms. He would watch people in their rooms until they were sleeping, then broke into their rooms to steal their valuables. One night while Richard was doing this, he wanted to rape a woman. He hid in the closet of the woman while she was in the bathroom, then tried to rape her. Her husband caught him, and successfully fought him off. Ramirez was arrested, but the charges were dropped.

EARLY ADULTHOOD When Richard was 18, he moved to Los Angeles, California, where he was homeless and living on the streets. He also became an alcoholic and a cocaine addict. He befriended many friends that were similar to himself, and they all started living at the bus station. Richard spent the last of the little money he had on a master set of keys to Toyota and Honda cars, and every night he would steal a car and drive around Los Angeles to find a house to burglarize. One night, a woman asked Richard to buy her PCP, but later at her apartment she turned down Richard's advances, and then he raped her. Within two years of repeating this process every night, he began committing more severe crimes. He started raping women and robbing them when he was through. By the time he was 23, he had lost contact with his family.

VICTIMS Victim #1 - Mei Leung

Mei Leung's story has been embellished in multiple news articles for publicity and shock value, which is rather disgusting because she was only 9 years old when she was raped, stabbed, and strangled by Richard Ramirez. According to the most recent news stories of Mei's murder, Mei was walking back home from a friend's house with her younger brother, and while they were walking up the stairs in their apartment building, Mei dropped a dollar bill down the stairwell and into the basement. She went down to go get it but she never came back. Eventually, her brother came back to look for her but instead he found her hanging from a spigot.

A police officer on the case, who was interviewed on the New York Post stated:

“If you can picture Christ on the cross, that’s the way she looked. Her head was drooped and her chin down. It was a sad sight to see. She kind of got to me.”

The case was not tied to Richard Ramirez until 2009.

Victim #2 - Jennie Vincow (age 79)

Jennie's body was found by her son, Jack Vincow, in their shared apartment. Her body was found with a slashed throat and multiple stab wounds. She was killed on June 27, 1984.

Victim #3 - Dale Okazasi (age 34) Richard Ramirez murdered Dale Okazasi on March 17, 1985, by shooting her in her own home. During this attack, Ramirez also murdered Maria Hernandez, who was 20, but she survived.

Victim #4 - Tsai-Lian “Veronica” Yu (age 30)

On the same day (March 17, 1985) of the murder of Dale Okazasi, Ramirez dragged Veronica from her car and killed her.

Victim #5 - Vincent Zazzara (age 64)

Ramirez broke into Vincent's home and killed him while Vincent was asleep.

Victim #6 - Maxine Zazzara (age 44)

Maxine was killed during the same attack of her husband, Vincent Zazzara, on March 27, 1985.

Victim #7 - Willaim Doi (age 65)

Ramirez fatally shot William Doy when he broke into his house in Monterey Park on the 14th of May, 1985.

Victim #8 - Mable "Ma" Bell (age 84)

Mable Bell was killed after Ramirez attacked her at her home in Monrovia, California, on June 29, 1985.

Victim #9 - Mary Louise Cannon (age 77)

Mary was killed at her home in Arcadia, California, on July 2, 1985.

Victim #10 - Joyce Lucille Nelson (age 61)

Ramirez beat Joyce to death, and also burglarized her home in Monterey Park on July 7, 1985.

Victim #11 - Max Kneiding (age 68)

Max was killed by Ramirez, and was attacked with a machete as well as shot on July 20, 1985.

Victim #12 - Lela Kneiding (age 66)

Lela Kneiding, the wife of Max Kneiding, was also killed on the same day after Ramirez broke into the home the couple lived in, in Glendale, California. He also robbed their home.

Victim #13 - Chainarong Khovananth (age 32)

On July 20, Ramirez was shot and killed while he was sleeping in his some in Sun Valley.

Victim #14 - Elyas Abowath (age 31)

Elyas was shot and killed on August 8, 1985, in Diamond Bar, California. He was killed during the burglary of his family home.

It is now known that Richard's crime were all acted out in a similar way. He would steal a car, drive around Los Angeles for multiple hours at a time, then find a house that was dark. Then, he would park his car and look around for a way in the house. While Richard was doing this, the people within the house were always asleep. Richard would then look into all the bedroom windows and figure out who was home, and then he would shoot all the men in the house directly in the temple so that they were killed instantly. However, this action would cause a loud noise which woke up the women in the house. Once the women were awake, Richard would tie them up with whatever was available while he went to go get the children out of bed. Richard would torture and rape the women in front of the children before he killed the women, and then he would let them beg for their lives and then rob them.

RAMIREZ'S BELIEFS IN SATANISM

When Ramirez was around 18, he started reading books by Anton Lavey, the founder of the Church of Satan. Then, he stole a car to attend one of Lavey's Satanic ceremonies. After this, he called his mother to say he'd been 'touched by Satan.' He believed that his Satanic impulses were in line with what Satan would have wanted. Later on, he would also carve inverted pentagrams on his victims' palms and even yelled "Hail Satan" in the middle of court.

SOURCES Note: please let me know if I got anything wrong! And if I did get information wrong, I am sorry. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xghc6gxWvi0 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qAnyT4JsnKs

[westdallasgang]

Bonnie starts a heated argument with Buck and Blanche:

"One day, just before Clyde came back with Billie, I was sitting in the car in the garage listening to the radio when I heard Bonnie and Buck cursing each other. Then I heard Bonnie tell Buck to call me in, that she could whip me. I didn't know what it was all about, but I went in just the same. She jumped off the bed and began cursing me. I never found out why. All I ever learned was that she was just tired of us being with them. I had tried to be so good to her. There wasn't anything else I could do for her that I hadn't already done. I couldn't understand her angry outburst. She wanted to fight, but she was a sick woman. I would take anything she said before I would ever strike her.

I told her if she still felt the same way when she got well then we could fight it out, but not now. Then she said she would have Billie do her fighting for her if she should come back with Clyde and her mother. And she would tell Clyde to whip Buck, then they would leave us. Apparently Bonnie and Buck were talking about W.D. Buck still thought Clyde should have never gone after him. Then Buck started talking about a certain officer in Texas. Buck knew him as a tough guy, not afraid of anyone. Buck said he hoped Clyde would never run into that particular law officer, that it would be just too bad for Clyde and anyone with him. Bonnie got mad and said Clyde wouldn't be afraid of that officer, or of any officer.

Then she said she was glad W.D. was back again, that he had more nerve than Buck and me together. Then Buck got mad when she had said I was afraid to shoot coppers and that I was excess baggage and in the way. He told her that when she was well he would show her whether or not I was afraid of her. He said he would have her settle this and see to it that it was a fair fight. He would make sure there was no gun play. "Well, call her in here," Bonnie said. "And don't wait until I am well. I am well enough now." That's when I came in. W.D. came in about that time too. He got Bonnie back in bed. She told him what Buck had said and that she was going to tell Clyde how she had been treated while he was gone. She said she wouldn't have anyone but W.D. to protect her if the cops should come in. She said Clyde knew she would get no protection from us and that's why he left W.D., to take care of her.

Buck told her she knew better than that! He said if anything should happen she knew she would be the first one put in the car and that he would fight for her just the same as he would for a sister, because Clyde loved her. Then he said she should be ashamed of her outburst. Bonnie told us to get out and leave her with W.D., that he could take care of her until Clyde came back. When she jumped off the bed earlier, her burns started bleeding and hurting her again. She had to have more Amytal to put her to sleep." — Blanche Barrow, "My Life With Bonnie And Clyde"

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Rick McKee, Augusta Chronicle

* * * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

April 5, 2023

Heather Cox Richardson

In yesterday’s election in Wisconsin, the two candidates represented very different futures for the country. One candidate for the state supreme court, Daniel Kelly, had helped politicians to gerrymander the state to give Republicans an iron lock on the state assembly and was backed by antiabortion Republicans. The other, Janet Protasiewicz, promised to stand behind fair voting maps and the protection of reproductive rights. Wisconsin voters elected Protasiewicz by an overwhelming eleven points in a state where elections are usually decided by a point or so. Kelly reacted with an angry, bitter speech. “I wish that in a circumstance like this I would be able to concede to a worthy opponent,” he said. “But I do not have a worthy opponent to which I can concede.” Yesterday’s vote in Wisconsin reinforces the polling numbers that show how overwhelmingly popular abortion rights and fair voting are, and it seems likely to throw the Republican push to suppress voting into hyperdrive before the 2024 election. Since the 1980s, Republicans have pushed the idea of “ballot integrity” or, later, “voter fraud” to justify voter suppression. That cry began in 1986, when Republican operatives, realizing that voters opposed Reagan’s tax cuts, launched a “ballot integrity” initiative that they privately noted “could keep the black vote down considerably.” That effort to restrict the vote is now a central part of Republican policy. Together with Documented, an investigative watchdog and journalism project, The Guardian today published the story of the attempt by three leading right-wing election denial groups to restrict voting rights in Republican-dominated states by continuing the lie that voting fraud is rampant. The Guardian’s story, by Ed Pilkington and Jamie Corey, explores a two-day February meeting in Washington organized by the right-wing Heritage Foundation and attended by officials from 13 states, including the chief election officials of Indiana, Florida, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Tennessee, Virginia, and West Virginia. At the meeting, participants learned about auditing election results, litigation, and funding to challenge election results. Many of the attendees and speakers are associated with election denial. Since the 2020 election, Republican-dominated states have passed “election reform” measures that restrict the vote; those efforts are ongoing. On Thursday alone, the Texas Senate advanced a number of new restrictions. In the wake of high turnout among Generation Z Americans, who were born after 1996 and are more racially and ethnically diverse than their elders, care deeply about reproductive and LGBTQ rights, and want the government to do more to address society’s ills, Republican legislatures are singling out the youth vote to hamstring. That determination to silence younger Americans is playing out today in Tennessee, where a school shooting on March 28 in Nashville killed six people, including three 9-year-olds. The shooting has prompted protesters to demand that the legislature honor the will of the people by addressing gun safety, but instead, Republicans in the legislature have moved to expel three Democratic lawmakers who approached the podium without being recognized to speak—a breach of House rules—and led protesters in chants calling for gun reform. As Republicans decried the breach by Representatives Gloria Johnson, Justin Jones, and Justin Pearson, protestors in the galleries called out, “Fascists!” Republican efforts to gain control did not end there. On Twitter today, Johnson noted that she had “just had a visit from the head of HR and the House ethics lawyer,” who told her “that if I am expelled, I will lose my health benefits,” but the ethics lawyer went on to explain “that in one case, a member who was potentially up for expulsion decided to resign because if you resign, you maintain your health benefits.” The echoes of Reconstruction in that conversation are deafening. In that era, when the positions of the parties were reversed, southern Democrats used similar “persuasion” to chase Republican legislators out of office. When that didn’t work, of course, they also threatened the physical safety of those who stood in the way of their absolute control of politics. On Saturday night, someone fired shots into the home of the man who founded and runs the Tennessee Holler, a progressive news site. Justin Kanew was covering the gun safety struggle in Tennessee. He wrote: “This violence has no place in a civilized society and we are thankful no one was physically hurt. The authorities have not completed their investigation and right now we do not know for sure the reason for this attack. We urge the Williamson County Sheriff’s office to continue to investigate this crime and help shed light on Saturday’s unfortunate events and bring the perpetrators of this crime to justice. In the meantime, our family remains focused on keeping our children healthy and safe.” The anger coming from losing candidate Kelly last night, and his warning that “this does not end well….[a]nd I wish Wisconsin the best of luck because I think it's going to need it,” sure sounded like those lawmakers in the Reconstruction years who were convinced that only people like them should govern. The goal of voter suppression, control of statehouses, and violence—then and now—is minority rule. Today’s Republican Party has fallen under the sway of MAGA Republicans who advocate Christian nationalism despite its general unpopularity; on April 3, Hungarian president Viktor Orbán, who has destroyed true democracy in favor of “Christian democracy” in his own country, cheered Trump on and told him to “keep on fighting.” Like Orbán, today's Republicans reject the principles that underpin democracy, including the ideas of equality before the law and separation of church and state, and instead want to impose Christian rule on the American majority. Their conviction that American “tradition” focuses on patriarchy rather than equality is a dramatic rewriting of our history, and it has led to recent attacks on LGBTQ Americans. In Kansas today, the legislature overrode Democratic governor Laura Kelly’s veto of a bill banning transgender athletes who were assigned male at birth from participating in women’s sports. Kansas is the twentieth state to enact such a policy, and when it goes into effect, it will affect just one youth in the state. Yesterday, Idaho governor Brad Little signed a law banning gender-affirming care for people under 18, and today Indiana governor Eric Holcomb did the same. Meanwhile, Republican-dominated states are so determined to ignore the majority they are also trying to make it harder for voters to challenge state laws through ballot initiatives. Alice MIranda Ollstein and Megan Messerly of Politico recently wrote about how, after voters in a number of states overrode abortion bans through ballot initiatives, legislatures in Arkansas, Florida, Idaho, Missouri, North Dakota, Ohio, and Oklahoma are now debating ways to make it harder for voters to get measures on the ballot, sometimes even specifying that abortion-related measures are not eligible for ballot challenges. And yet, in the face of the open attempt of a minority to seize control, replacing our democracy with Christian nationalism, the majority is reasserting its power. In Michigan, after an independent redistricting commission redrew maps to end the same sort of gerrymandering that is currently in place in Wisconsin and Tennessee, Democrats in 2022 won a slim majority to control the state government. And today, Michigan governor Gretchen Whitmer signed into law a bill revoking a 1931 law that criminalized abortion without exception for rape or incest.

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[ausetkmt]

On Feb. 15, 2023, a judge informed Payton Gendron – a white 19-year-old who killed 10 Black people at a Buffalo Tops market in 2022 – that “You will never see the light of day as a free man ever again.”

The week before, Patrick Crusius – a white 24-year-old who gunned down 23 people at an El Paso Walmart in 2019 – received 90 consecutive life sentences.

The threat of domestic terrorism remains high in the United States – especially the danger posed by white power extremists, many of whom believe white people are being “replaced” by people of color.

I am a scholar of political violence and extremism and wrote about these beliefs in a 2021 book, “It Can Happen Here: White Power and the Rising Threat of Genocide in the US.” I think it’s important to understand the lessons that can be learned from events like the Buffalo and El Paso mass shootings.

After decades of research on numerous attacks that have left scores dead, we have learned that extremists are almost always part of a pack, not lone wolves. But the myth of the lone wolf shooter remains tenacious, reappearing in media coverage after almost every mass shooting or act of far-right extremist violence. Because this myth misdirects people from the actual causes of extremist violence, it impedes society’s ability to prevent attacks. Buffalo mass shooter Payton Gendron was sentenced to life in prison in February 2023. Scott Olson/Getty Images

The lone wolf extremist myth is dangerous

FBI Director Christopher Wray said in August 2022 that the nation’s top threat comes from far-right extremist “lone actors” – who, he explained, work alone, instead of “as part of a large group.”

Wray is wrong, and the myth of the lone wolf extremist – the mistaken idea that violent extremists largely act alone – continues to directly inform research, law enforcement and the popular imagination.

I think that Wray’s focus on extremism is much needed and long overdue. However, his line of thinking is dangerous and misleading. By focusing on individuals or small groups, it overlooks broader networks and long-term dangers and so can impede efforts to combat far-right extremist violence – which Wray has singled out as the country’s most lethal domestic threat.

Not a new trend

Far-right extremists may physically carry out an attack alone or as part of a small group of people, but they are almost always networked and identify with larger groups and causes.

This was true long before the social media age. Take Timothy McVeigh. He is often depicted as the archetypal lone wolf madman who blew up the Oklahoma City Federal Building in 1995.

In fact, McVeigh was part of a pack. He had accomplices and was connected across the far-right extremist landscape.

The same is true of Gendron and Crusius, who were also characterized in media coverage as lone wolves.

“He talked about how he didn’t like school because he didn’t have friends. He would say he was lonely,” a classmate of Gendron said shortly after Gendron carried out the mass shooting.

Both were active on far-right extremist social media platforms and posted manifestos before their attacks. Gendron’s manifesto discusses how he was radicalized on the dark web and inspired to attack after watching videos of Brenton Tarrant’s 2019 massacre of 51 people at two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand.

Almost a quarter of Gendron’s manifesto is directly taken from Tarrant’s, which was titled “The Great Replacement.” This fear of white replacement, centered around perceived white demographic decline, was also a motive for Crusius. His manifesto pays homage to Tarrant, before explaining his attack was “a response to the Hispanic invasion of Texas.”

The lone wolf myth also suggests that extremists are abnormal deviants with anti-social personalities.

After Gendron’s rampage, for example, New York Attorney General Letitia James called him a “sick, demented individual.” Crusius, in turn, was described by the White House and news articles as “evil,” “psychotic” and an “anti-social loner.”

The vast majority of far-right extremists are, in fact, otherwise ordinary men and women. They live in rural areas, suburbs and cities. They are students and working professionals. And they believe their extremist cause is justified. This point was illustrated by the spectrum of participants in the Jan. 6, 2021, Capitol insurrection. People hug at a memorial outside the Walmart in El Paso, Texas, where a shooter killed 23 people in 2019. Mark Ralston/AFP via Getty Images

Tracing the lone wolf mythology

How did the lone-wolf metaphor come to misinform the public’s view of extremists, and why is it so tenacious?

Part of the answer is linked to white supremacist Louis Beam, who wrote the essay “Leaderless Resistance” in 1983. In it, he called for far-right extremists to act individually or in small groups that couldn’t be traced up a chain of command. According to his lawyer, McVeigh was one of those influenced by Beam’s call.

After Beam formulated this idea, both far-right extremists and law enforcement increasingly used the lone wolf term. In 1998, the FBI even mounted an “Operation Lone Wolf” to investigate a West Coast white supremacist cell.

The 9/11 terrorist attacks further turned U.S. attention to Islamic militant “lone wolves.” A decade later, the term became mainstream.

And so it was not a surprise when, after the Buffalo shooting, New York State Senator James Sanders said, “Although this is probably a lone-wolf incident, this is not the first mass shooting we have seen, and sadly it will not be the last.”

The tenacity of the lone wolf myth has several sources. It’s convenient – evocative and powerful enough to draw and keep people’s attention.

By using this term, which individualizes extremism, law enforcement officials may also depoliticize their work. Instead of focusing on movements like white nationalism that have sympathizers in the various levels of government, from sheriffs to senators, they focus on individuals.

The lone wolf extremist myth diverts from what should be the focus of deterrence efforts: understanding how far-right extremists network, organize and, as the Jan. 6 insurrection showed, build coalitions across diverse groups, especially through the use of social media.

Such understanding provides a basis for developing long-term strategies to prevent extremists like Gendron and Crusius from carrying out more violent attacks.

[thatawkwardmoth]

Part 3 of The Last Of Us headcanons (normal au)

Ellie is not allowed over at the neighbors. She can't act nice and sweet like Sarah barely can. Joel learned this the hard way.

Both girls have a quota they want to fulfill of how many times they make Joel laugh or smile. Has to be at least five times.

Joel is that dad that buys shit in bulk if one of his girls even slightly mentioned that they like it. Ellie used to only drink Cherry Kool-aid Jammers, all summer, it was all he could get her to drink. He still has five boxes in the Garage. Sarah religiously only ate Cinnamon Bagels and he still buys them for breakfast even after five years.

Ellie and Sarah evenly split shotgun. They do not share with Tommy though.

When Ellie came out to Sarah and Joel, both of them were shocked by how hostile she sounded with tears in her eyes and shaking like a leaf.

Joel makes every Christmas the best. He's not big on spending a little at any time of the year but he's definitely saving up more through the holiday months.

Ellie's favorite holiday is Halloween and Sarah's is Christmas. This is their excuse to put Joel through the Nightmare Before Christmas twice in a year.

Ellie will sing the best version of Jack's lament and Sarah will hit every note in Sally's song perfectly.

Ellie likes old Westerns but her favorite genre is horror.

Sarah's favorite is romance or historical dramas.

Sarah was never an IPad kid, she was constantly outside with Joel and Tommy, raised in the Texas sun.

Ellie, on the other hand, grew up in a cramped Boston apartment and sat in front of a TV for hours on end to distract herself from the hunger pains and the loneliness creeping into her bones. Nothing changed when they moved either. Mom was still gone all the time, sick when she was home. All that changed was the small apartment was in Texas, closer to some hospital.

Ellie has to have some electronic in her hand at all times if the car ride goes past three hours. She can't nap every ride away.

Joel bought Ellie her first pride flag and when someone in the Neighborhood said something about it, he placed one right next to the American flag in his yard.

Ellie simps over every cheerleader and it's Sarah's greatest pleasure to take photo and video and blackmail her.

Sarah played soccer for a rec team up until her first year of High School. She got tired of everyone, except her family, making it all about her future and less about the fun she had playing.

She now only plays when it's family dinner and Kevin and Tommy are up against her and Joel. Maria is sitting off to the side with the baby and Ellie is being the worst Ref.

When Ellie gets sick, like really sick, she only wants to watch Strawberry Shortcake and she'll call out for her mom all night long. Sarah curls up with her and Joel lays a sleeping bag out in the hallway just in case one of them needs him.

Sarah was a wandering kid. Not enough to be leashed, just enough to give Joel eyes in the back of his head and heart attacks on the daily.

Ellie has the biggest issue with some of the guys Joel works with. When she's helping on site, they'll make little remarks about little girls and not being fit for the job. Joel just waits for Ellie to snap and then he'll handle the aftermath.

Sarah and Ellie are both Taylor Swift stans. Sarah is Lover-Speak Now-Debut, Ellie is Evermore-Reputation-1989.

Sarah owned a pair of glittery pink cowgirl boots when she was a toddler and Joel cringes at every photo of her with them. They were horrible to put on and they broke ten days after she got them but she loved them so much, Joel bought her another pair.

Ellie has a nerf gun she keeps next to her bed to shoot anyone who doesn't abide by the rule list in the kitchen. Number 4: Ellie's room is off limits unless invited in (barring the exceptions listed at the bottom)

Joel made the rule list purely for Tommy and Maria, they're nice and they're family but sometimes they treat Ellie like she's feral and Sarah like she's an infant, stepping over every boundary.

Ellie has stabbed Joel before. There was only one time they don't regret. Man never should've snuck up on her while hunting and she stands by that.

Ellie loves basketball more than anything. It's her last piece of Riley.

Joel suffers no embarrassment buying things like pads and tampons. Even if he has to buy two different types, he'll never complain.

Sarah is a big Harry Potter stan. Can't stand the author but loved the books and movies and plays to the death.

Ellie, on the other hand, pure Percy Jackson. Constantly taking tests on who her godly parent would be and what type of quest she'd get.

When Ellie told Joel she was fine with any pronouns, Joel straight up at the next dinner was like "Ellie wants you to pass the potatoes Tommy. Listen to him or they can stab you."

Right off the bat, no qualms against it. Made Ellie cry into Sarah's bedsheets that night.

Everyone always acts like Sarah and Ellie are polar opposites, that they couldn't be more different. Joel prides himself on being the one who knows that's false.

Joel has a trophy case the living room, full of Sarah's soccer trophies, Ellie's basketball ones, every certificate and award ever given to them on display.

Proud dad #1.

Sarah and Ellie know that mother's day is a sore subject for them both so they both tease Joel and get him "Best mom ever" shit and watches him cringe and pretend to hate them. But at night time, when they're all curled up on the couch, he hears the soft confession from both about how he's doing great. They don't need mom, he's got this covered.

Father's day is always a giant spectacle with them.

Joel doesn't shame any parents, he can't because he had Sarah young as hell. But when he walks into a doctor's office and sees parents there that don't know anything about their kids, it makes him sick.

He can tell the people at said doctors office everything about his girls medical background without even hesitating. He knows their birthdays and middle names and everything.

Ellie is the main one he takes to the doctor. She hates it though so he always make sure to pack a "Diaper Bag" for her. Blanket from her mom that she loves, headphones, giraffe plush, etc. Even if she thinks it's to childish, he can see the fear in her eyes when they enter. The smell brings her right back to where she lost her mom.

Sarah wants to be a nurse when she grows up. Tommy and Joel are supportive but wondering how bedside manner is going to work with that sassy little shit.

Both girls will take as many pot shots as they want at Joel's age.

Sarah and Ellie love leaving flowers in Joel's hair.

A lot happened to Ellie the first few years of her life and it still haunts her. Joel holds nothing against her and will accept the feral look in their eyes and the new bruises he gets when she gets a flashback. As long as she's still fighting.

Ellie's tiktok is full of random jokes and skits. Teaching ASL to people alongside Sam. Some of them are about what she went through and he gives no fucks about what anyone thinks. Joel said it was OK, and that's the only opinion that matters to her.

Sarah's tiktok is all dances and photo trends. Her and Ellie love pulling prank videos on Kevin and Joel and Tess.

Tess once had a pregnancy scare and Joel was excited to be a dad again. When it was revealed she wasn't pregnant, just stress making her miss her period, they both sat down and talked it out.

Tess told Ellie a few months after that, while hiking with her and Sarah, that had the baby been a boy, she would've fought Joel hard as shit to name it Texas. Ellie loved the name and the meaning behind it and is now rooting for another sibling even harder.

Sarah's favorite inside joke with Ellie is to call her by any name that can be shortened down to Ellie when she's being called by Joel or Sarah.

Example: Eleanor, Elodie, Eloise.

Sarah will dip anything into ranch. Anything. Ellie will dip anything into hot sauce or Buffalo sauce.

Both need those at every dinner. Joel just needs ketchup and mustard.

Joel was introduced to Hozier through Ellie and will listen to it constantly because it makes him think of his girls and everything they've been through.

Bill and Frank are really the only people they ever go on roadtrips to see.

Sarah loves makeup, she loves doing cool looks and drawing little stars and butterflies. She just enjoys playing around and creating cute looks.

Ellie likes a little makeup, she'll even let Sarah do it for her when they're bored on the weekends.

Ellie was a play structure kid. She'd climb any and all things on the playground, hang upside down from the monkey bars and force Joel to spin her on the merry-go-round till she was sick.

Sarah was a swings kid. She'd just chill there and sometimes go to the merry-go-round with Ellie.

Joel still carries around what is essentially a diaper bag for both of his girls. He's ready for anything.

One vegetable that will never enter the house is peas. Everyone hates them.

Ellie will eat raw carrots but no cooked ones. Joel is still confused by it.