#tw: gun mention

[stuhde]

i had shared what is happening in sudan on a long facebook post last night, but it virtually received almost little to no engagement or shares from the nearly 600 “friends” i have on the site.

this morning, my great-aunt was shot by the soldiers fighting for power, and God forbid, i lose more of my family members before eid this friday.

please read below to understand what is happening and how you can help my country. i hope the tumblr community can show more kindness than the lack of support and advocacy i’ve seen elsewhere.

يا رب اجعل هذا البلد آمناً 🇸🇩

the lack of awareness and advocacy from the African, Arab, and Muslim diaspora and the human rights community has been painful.

while Western media has done little to no coverage of the ongoing conflict in the capital city of my motherland, Sudan, it appears that the rest of the world also partakes in normalizing crimes and violence against SWANA people.

violence and war hurting the SWANA region are NOT ordinary occurrences — no one, regardless of race, creed, ethnicity, religion, and gender, should experience the unprecedented amount of violence that harms my two living grandmothers, aunts and uncles, and baby cousins who live in Khartoum.

your decision to ignore reading or educating and discussing with others about what is likely to be a civil war is complicity in viewing SWANA people as individuals who regularly experience conflict and are undeserving of help.

the silence is damaging, and it is up to us as privileged members of the diaspora (or individuals living in the Western world committed to human rights) to support the people of my country and their dream for a stable, democratically elected government.

what is happening in Sudan is a fight that started on April 15 between two competing forces for power — the Sudanese Army and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) — neither groups are representative of the needs of our people. The Sudan Army is loyal to the dictator, Omar Al-Bashir, and the RSF is responsible for the genocide in Darfur.

with both power struggles backed by different Arab and Gulf nations, the two parties have been fighting for power for the last few years. While they worked together to try and end the people’s revolution, they lost. however, they are now in a constant power play of who will get to rule the nation.

this all means that war is NOT a reflection of my country — violence does not represent the SWANA people. Sudan is a nation of beautiful culture, strong women, intellectual and influential Islamic scholars, poets, and youth at the front lines of the revolution. we are a people committed to a region of peace for ourselves and the rest of the Ummah.

my family and the rest of Sudan’s innocent civilians are at the most risk, with many currently without drinking water, food to eat, electricity, and complete blockage to any mosques during the final nights of Ramadan, our holiest month of the year.

i ask that you please keep Sudan and our people in your prayers — donate to the Sudan Red Crescent or a mutual aid GoFund Me, email your representatives if you live in a country that can put pressure on either competing force of power, discuss this with your family and friends, and please do not forget to think about SWANA people — our brothers and sisters in Syria, Yemen, Lebanon, and many others need our love and support.

الردة_مستحيلة ✊🏾

#KeepEyesOnSudan

[captain-jacks-coat]

Arthur and Merlin are so funny to me. Like wdym he's your manservant? What's he serving you? Cu- *GUNSHOT*

[sentientsky]

“Trauma Guide to Gunshot Wounds,” Yves Olade

[heartfullofleeches]

[tw: gun violence]

Silas [immortal yan] is hands down the perfect match for creep Reader. After becoming immortal and taking way to long to realize he died and gained immortality in an extremely fucked sense the first person he hits up is his crush old pal who stuck around to take pictures he after ruined his body with whatever masochist stunt of the evening he committed. They used to just sit in his room and watch him do it, but now they can join on the fun without risking an accidental death charge

-

Silas: Babe - watch this! It'll blow your mind!

[Holds a loaded gun to his temple and pulls the trigger - hopping to his feet seconds after blowing his head off]

Silas: Well? You're into me now, right??

Creep Reader: so... wanna get married this weekend? Pretty sure I'm free on Saturday

[chucksource]

[starrystevie]

"since when do you know how to use a gun?"

steve's standing in the bunker doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, hip balanced against the door frame. he's watching eddie meticulously clean what used to be a basic rifle that's turned into some monstrous thing hopper built with an additional barrel and multiple scopes. they just got back from a big fight that took a lot out of them all, so he's not surprised that eddie stays silent before clicking something into place. the sound of the metal echoes off the barren walls and he finally turns to look at steve.

"since i started hunting with dear old dad when i was 6."

he pulls off a scope, peers inside and frowns at something steve can't see before blowing against the glass lightly. there's a rag sitting next to him covered in some mix of blood, guts and grease and steve wouldn't be surprised if it isn't the first cloth he's had to use on that particular rifle. it's one of nancy's favorites, after all, and she's not known to clean up after every fight.

eddie looks good with a gun in his hand, steve thinks in some dark recess of his brain that ignores the part where he hates guns. he thinks about the part that loves the focus on eddie's face when he holds one instead, his jaw set in place. eddie looks older, they all do, but with scars dotting his face and wrapped around his neck and days old stubble covering his chin because they haven't had enough water for a shave, he looks mature.

there's a permanent scowl on his face that seems wrong, takes over where cheeky grins used to be. he misses the days where eddie's laugh was the only thing ringing in steve's ears, when his eyebrows weren't pinched in the middle, when he would play alongside the kids with wild expressions and jokes to match.

steve guesses coming back from the dead could do that to a guy.

"hey," he offers, a bit quiet and hard to hear over the clinking of the metal and the ambient sounds of the underground bunker they've lived in for months now. eddie's head stays dropped over the gun as he cleans but he gives a hum in response, so steve takes it as a go ahead. "i think i'm ready to take you up on that offer."

eddie snorts. he wipes some grease over a piece of the gun before setting it down on the table to grab something else steve couldn't name if he tried. "gotta be more specific, stevie boy."

"i want-" steve huffs and readjusts his stance to look more serious. he wants to bring eddie back, but that might be too hard to do in the apocalypse. "i want you to teach me how to shoot."

they spend their allotted 30 minutes above ground later that afternoon in the open space that used to be an old garden. there's trees surrounding them and cans sitting on an old cardboard box structure yards ahead of them. everything's tinted red from the upside down sky that bled into hawkins a year ago and never seemed to leave.

the only gun steve wanted was a handgun, a tiny thing that he can hide in the back of his waistband if he needed, backup for if he lost his bat in a fight. it's not that he wants to shoot, that can be left to nancy and hopper and apparently eddie now that he's healed up enough to fight. no, steve just wants a way to connect with eddie again. a way to bring a little glimmer of light back into his eyes that look more and more like the upside down darkness everyday.

"you need to hold it tighter, steve." eddie's next to him with an arm hovering under steve's elbow as he aims at the pepsi can in the middle of the stack. "it'll throw you back when you shoot, so you gotta be ready."

steve lets his fingers curl tighter around the gun, careful not to press down with his pointer finger that's over the trigger. he can hear eddie huff under his breath and then suddenly he's there, hand curled around his arm and chest pressed against his side. eddie's hand whips up to wrap around steve's on the gun and he shakes his arm like he's testing how tense steve is.

"noodle arms ain't gonna help you. hold it tight."

there's something about the red sky and decay in the air and eddie's gravely voice in his ear that gets to him, his southern drawl more prominent now that he's come back. it's like he's trying to be wayne, trying to replicate what he thinks a man should be because the best model for it that he's had is wayne. steve plants his feet firmly in the ground to ignore the icy shiver passing through his body.

eddie breathes in deep and steve copies him, his shoulder pressing in firmly to eddie as he does. it feels like the first real breath he's had in a while and all it took was eddie munson touching him for steve to breathe again.

"that's better," eddie says and drops his hand from steve's elbow to hover somewhere around his waist. "be relaxed, but concentrate. keep steady and don't let your eyes look away. how do you feel?"

even though he asked a question, steve feels like he shouldn't answer. in some ways, it feels like a trap, like if he says what he actually feels then it's all going to fall apart. but there's this part of him, this tiny, nagging part of him that doesn't want to go back into the bunker without telling eddie how he's felt for far too long.

"okay, i think."

"go ahead and shoot when you're ready."

"...okay."

they stand in silence for a beat. steve can feel eddie's breath tickling the long hairs at his neck and there's a ringing in his ears that he doesn't know what to do with. the air is more suffocating than ever and steve wonders if he pulled out his pocket knife if he could cut through the tension.

eddie's hand finally lands on steve's waist and it blazes through him like a bullet. how is he supposed to shoot a gun, this all powerful thing, when eddie is there? he's breathing and he's alive and he's right where steve wants him to be. he knows he must tense up, knows he must take in a shuddering breath at the contact because-

"stop," eddie says, breaking the silence and pushing away from steve. he feels colder now, the fire that licked along his veins not 3 seconds ago diminishing at the distance between them. steve sighs, takes his hand off the trigger and lets his arm hand limply at his side. "why did you ask me to help you with this? why not nancy or hop?"

his questions hits steve like an accusation and steve wishes he had expected for it not to happen. this is eddie now, he's a little bit harsh and more than a little bit angry at the world. and god, steve had hoped that being with him, that being outside with him would help just even for a minute.

he wishes the upside down would open up and swallow him whole so he could escape the glare that eddie's throwing his way, but he couldn't stand to be an addition to the pain eddie carries around on his back. steve looks him in the eye, shoulders pushed back and something like determination on his face, and hopes he can feel what he's feeling, too.

"you know why."

it's whispered but he knows eddie hears him. it's loud, always loud in hawkins now, but he knows eddie hears him.

somewhere in between dragging eddie out of hell and nursing him back to semi-okayness and staying up in the middle of the night with cold rags on foreheads and arms wrapped around waists, something started growing. steve knows he can't have all of eddie from 86 back, and that's okay. he's not the steve from 86, either.

but he'll try with every last breath he has to see him smile again.

eddie steps closer, shuffles his boots across the dirt until he can take the gun from steve's hand. he does something with it that steve can't really see, unloads the ammo and puts the empty pieces into the deep pockets of his cargo pants. there's lighting flashing across the blood red sky and he's sees it mirrored in eddie's eyes.

"you mean it?" eddie whispers back. steve is strong and he's been holding on for so long to see a light like that in the dark brown pools he's staring into that it cracks a smile onto his face and he sees eddie's lips pull up just the tiniest bit to copy him. it's a start.

"yeah."

steve knows they don't have much time left topside and soon enough hopper will be yelling over the speaker they wired up to the bunker door that they have to come in. he knows they don't have much time left in whatever hawkins has become, more and more creatures breaking through the liminal space between worlds every day.

they don't have the time, but steve would tell the earth to stop spinning for eddie any day, and fitting their palms together to tangle their fingers seems like the right way to spend whatever time they have left.

[leiascully]

X-Files OctoberFicFest Day 7: Wetwired

Scully drawing on him, her blue eyes wild. Scully with her gun leveled at him. Scully in the shadows of her mother’s house like some creature in its den.

He had felt her slipping away. He hadn’t understood it. She had flicked her eyes sideways at him in the car like she was assessing her chances of pitching herself out the door. It had stung like a paper cut, a swift slice that throbbed for hours.

Scully didn’t trust him. Some outside force had slipped a wedge between them. He hadn’t thought it was possible anymore: their bond exceeded anything he’d known. Scully was incorruptible. Maybe there had been some rot at the heart of them that he hadn’t understood. Something had festered, maybe since the beginning. Maybe it was the loss of her sister that had tipped her over the edge, or hell, her dog.

She had fired at him. Worse, she had fired at a civilian. What were a few bullets between partners? But to fire on a civilian was out of character, out of line. It wasn’t Scully.

The sinister signal had slipped into her mind and warped something in it. What did she see when she looked at him? Did he stink of cigarettes, in her imagination? Was he a war criminal or a wicked scientist? Was he Pfaster or Boggs or Tooms? Or worst of all, was he himself? Maybe she’d always been waiting for his betrayal.

His heart had stopped when the police had called. There was no bracing himself against the possibility of seeing her lovely face turned waxen, a death mask. He’d whispered a silent apology to the corpse for the relief he’d felt. Surely Jane Doe hadn’t deserved to die. Whoever she was, she deserved justice. He wasn’t going to give it to her, but it ached all the same, under the dizzy rush of euphoria that she wasn’t Scully.

He’d found Scully hiding with her mother, alive but not herself. Unwell. Feral and fierce, a Jersey Devil trapped in a suburban Maryland home. He couldn’t get through to her. When he reached for her, she snarled, caged in her own mind. She had shot him before to save him. That wouldn’t be her aim this time. He remembered their conversation on the rock. In her mind, he could play the part of the fanatic pushed beyond all reason. What was there to do with a mad dog but put it down?

Maggie had a softer touch. She held out her hand and Scully surrendered, saved by motherlove. It was astonishing to watch. He had forgotten that kind of maternal tenderness. He’d only experienced it in a dilute version, standing in for Scully when she’d been abducted. It warmed his heart and broke it all at once. But she was safe. That was what mattered. That was the only thing that mattered.

The cleanup of the evidence had been completed in his absence, as Mr. X had assured him it would, but Scully would be all right. He would make that choice every time.

Maybe one day she’d believe it.

[ami-ven]

GuNS DoN’T KiLL PeoPLe, PeoPLe KiLL PeoPLe

Yeah, but it’s a lot harder for people who don’t have guns to shoot people.  Yeah, maybe people are gonna do violence anyway, but that doesn’t mean we have to make it easy for them

[xmenshitposts]

does bf stand for best friend or boyfriend you decide

sam's icon is by comic-icons

roberto edit from latineheroes

original under the cut!

t

[ask-the-critters-survival-au]

We're gonna go with you. Some more hands would be excellent at finding resources, as well as fighting.

When I tell you every anon has their own fighting style. I mean it. Some are more proficient in some weapons, some have magic, and some have guns galore.

But...it is ultimately your choosing whether we are allowed to come or not, Miss Hopscotch.

-Gunner anon

Not sure what a gun is…but thank you.

[actaghead]

this took a bit honestly, but it turned out great. everybody's dead - underscores is what inspired me. the song fits vash so well

[quackity-rp-blog]

Wilbur stepped into the bar quietly, listening to the chatter of people, before stepping farther in. The lights were dim, and it took him a moment to adjust to the dark room. His heels clicked on the tiles and he walked to the bar, leaning against it. He did as Quackity told him, and smiled as he was escorted to wherever Quackity was.

He'd gotten semi-dressed up for this. Wearing a mid-length black dress with a leather coat over the top.

-@clinging-to-a-dream

Quackity was sat on a black couch, his head leaned against the back as he let out a puff of smoke, a cigarette wedged in his teeth. Hed swapped up his usual outfit for a long black coat, slacks and a tank top.

Sat beside him was Alaska, recognizable by the coat that was adorning his shoulders as the room was a bit too hot to wear his sleeves. On his thigh rested a gun, nothing big. A small black .357 Magnum resting, untouched.

[fiveredlights]

Pump the brakes

Inception but F1??!!?!?

I am VERY intrigued

inception au! so many possibilities! so much potential for angst!

tw: gun violence

“This isn’t real,” Max whispers and Daniel shakes his head. The grip on his forearm is wrong, the curls in his hair are too tight—and he’s too tall, but a part of him could live with this. Maybe he could trick himself with being okay with this.

There’s a gun in his hand now and he brings it up to Daniel’s forehead. If he made any indication of the gun to his head, Max didn’t notice.

The first time Max brought a gun to Daniel’s head—Real Daniel—had complained that the metal was too cold and Max had been momentarily thrown off, enough for Daniel to grab the gun out of his hand and tackle him to the ground, the weapon now pointed at his chest.

They’d fucked for the first time after that.

This Daniel is still looking at him, and Max doesn’t understand it. He knows all of Daniel’s expressions, has them catalogue in a neat box filed DANIEL—FACES in his brain and the fact he can’t read it is probably another indication.

He’s not real.

Daniel is not real.

This is a dream.

He’s not real.

Daniel is not real.

This is a—

“I love you,” Daniel says, voice shaky. His eyes haven’t left Max’s, and the room is silent—except for their heavy breaths, synced up like everything else about them.

Max shoots him in the head.

[chucksource]

[sweeter-than-teafood]

Thoughts from a ✨thirsty✨ mind

Also this is my first time posting a lengthy headcanon to any kind of fandom

TW: mentions of guns and knives

So we know that Sitri has two pistols visibly holstered on his harness. He also has some knives on his belt, mentioned in the Gabriel Christmas Story

(I haven’t seen it fully, since only joining the fandom during Gamigin’s event, but I’ve seen the “Random bullshit go! Joke)

His knife/knives were also mentioned in the boss battle against Ppung (2-99)

I can’t help but think;

What if he’s also into knife/gun play? Not like a full on kink, but sort of like something that supplements his main kink.

Now, I know these kinks/scenarios can be taboo, and dangerous. But I think that Sitri would be very careful in these situations.

Just imagine, the imitation of danger would get MC’s heart racing, and we all know he’s a sucker for that. They’d effectively be putting a lot of trust in him, but he’s cautious enough to mitigate any risks.

✨Knives✨

The knives he keeps on his belt as weapons are strictly off limits, due to the fact that they’re lethally sharp.

He owns a few other knives, and will tailor his choice to the MC’s preference.

For example, he has a training butterfly knife, that’s very beginner friendly. No sharp blade, but still carries the sensation of cold metal.

But if the MC is feeling a bit more confident, he’ll use a knife that has a dulled blade. Sharp enough to cause light scratches or cut through clothes, but not sharp enough to cause serious injury.

He’ll use the trainee butterfly blade to lift MC’s chin, or hold the flat edge to their throat. He’ll never hold a sharp edge to them, especially if they’re a particularly squirmy MC. They’re safe in his hands.

✨Guns✨

The gun he uses for such scenarios is an antique ornate duelling pistol. It’s weathered in some places, as it was his first firearm.

Since he upgraded it to a set of modern pistols, he retired his old gun. It was thoroughly decommissioned by a blacksmith in Gehenna, and stored away in his room.

With this in mind, the gun is nothing more than a prop now, so he has no issue with using it for any roleplaying, since he knows for certain that there’s no danger in that aspect.

Of course, he’d let MC know that there’s no threat prior to engaging in such shenanigans.

However, with the thrill of the implied danger, MC can’t help but be turned on. Which causes their heart to race, which in turns Sitri on further, and so on and so forth.

[iamshmolphrog]

It's sunday! you made it through another week! time to post cowboy crab!

there he is! this rootin tootin bad guy shootin crustacean thinks you're doing great! have a wonderful week my darling crab enjoyers

(tag your mutals to spread the joy of cowboy crab @magical-bear-dubin @snailcheeserulz @a-mushroom-wizard)