#tw: mention of gun

[whyissupernaturaltrending]

a former US president gets shot at and rather than trend himself he causes supernatural to trend instead because everyone is sharing the news via the destiel meme. unparalleled

[one-time-i-dreamt]

My town got nuked and they still made us go to school, and when we tried to leave, they just fucking shot us.

[destielmemenews]

"Officials identified the man as 26-year-old Luigi Nicholas Mangione. He was born in Maryland and his last known residence was Honoloulou. He was arrested on firearms charges and taken in for questioning related to Thompson's death. He has not been charged with Thompson's killing at this time."

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[paintedcrows]

Ever think about how Bill Cipher has canonically threatened every member of the Pines family, except Stanley, with suicide? I think about that a lot... Kid's show villain everyone!

Individual Panels below the cut!

[thebadfeministt]

@dollykiller

[moechies]

toji who gets disgustingly hard when you ask for him to put a gun to your head (unloaded of course! but not like you know :c)

he loves the little blur in your eyes, pupils dialating over and over almost like you regret asking him — especially when you hear the cock of the gun while the nuzzle is pressed directly into the side of your skull, quick to blow your brains out at any second. he murmurs unapologetically with a low, dark glint in his eyes, “hurry up doll, get’ta work.”

you mouth him so quickly, lips wrapping around his heavy cock with a slight quiver and he swears it’s the best blowie you’ve ever given him. with a big fat cock in front of you and a cold metal barrel pressed to the side of your head , you really had no choice but to get to work, did you doll?

[frownyalfred]

Red Hood has a lot of people fooled, but he can’t fool the Narrows with that flawless trigger discipline. They know he’s something more than a common thug or gang leader the second they see that grip.

[skyeconch]

MC, peacefully cooking dinner : (◜〰◝)

Sylus, already regretting what he’s about to do :

Sylus : Bitch, what’s for dinner

[The peaceful atmosphere dropped]

MC : ..grilled cheese..

Sylus : . . .

[Sylus hands MC the loaded gun, before kneeling down]

Sylus : Just shoot me to end my suffering, please. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.

MC : Sylus—

[noodles-07]

HELLO?

[sincerelybubbles]

Hii

How are you doing?

I just read your shy reader and Hotch work and it's beautiful.

If you don't mind can I request something in a shy reader and Hotch setting? So, my request is that during a case reader and someone else on the team (other than Hotch) gets injured but the reader gets a concussion and other injuries and that's why she's not lucid. No one notices that R is injured and they focus on the other person until R just faints like Hotch did after the explosion on the show and the aftermath....

Thank you!!

tw: blood, cannon typical violence, poor writing after a too-long break

The room is spinning and Morgan is on the ground, clutching his arm. In the distance, you watch JJ drag the unsub over by the arm, his hands cuffed behind his back and a smug smirk on his face.

"Got you," the unsub barks at Morgan, spitting on the ground near his feet before JJ yanks him roughly toward the police cars.

Slowly, you stand, refusing to use the wall near you as support as you stumble to Morgan.

"Medic over here!" Hotch yells, jogging over and beating you to Morgan.

"It's just a graze," Morgan reassures Hotch, lifting his hand from his bicep and revealing the wound. Blood is trickling out in a slow stream from the wound, painting his dark skin crimson.

You nearly gag at the sight, nauseous from slamming your head against the ground. The fight is blurry in your memory, but you vaguely remember missing a step chasing the unsub down the stairs and knocking to the floor. You think the man might have pushed you, but you're unsure, the details lost in the loud bang from his gun, pointed at Morgan.

You drop to your knees near Morgan, pushing his and Hatch's unexperienced hands away and forcing your eyes to focus on the wound.

You were added to the team to fill several gaps, an experienced medic one of them along with another profiler on the team. While you wait for the paramedics to arrive, you can at least staunch the bleeding.

You think you hear Hotch asking questions but you can't focus on the low register of his voice over the ringing in your ears, solely prioritizing slowing the blood steadily pumping out of Morgan's bicep.

"Hey, sweetheart," Morgan nudges you away from his arm. You look up, confused. "Your boss is asking if you're alright." Nodding toward Hotch, Morgan smirks and rolls his eyes, "You know I'm good. Hurts like a bitch, but I'm good."

"Yeah," you mutter, nodding at the ground before refocusing on your task, "I'm alright."

You don't want to bring attention to the throbbing in your head, sure it's fine and even more sure that nobody saw you fall. The embarrassment of bringing attention to it is more then you could bear with the pounding between your ears incessant in its annoyance.

"If you're sure you have this handled, I would like to go talk to JJ." You wave Hotch off, catching sight of the paramedics rushing over.

He walks off, purposeful in his long strides, following JJ where she's leaning over the unsub in the back of a cruiser. You notice, in a fleeting moment, that his hair is rumpled, his shirtsleeves wrinkled. Hotch disheveled is a rare but welcome sight, one you ache to see more often, and you let yourself fall back and away from Morgan to admire it while the paramedics tend to him.

Blood has dried on your hands and you wipe them absently as you settle onto the ground. Nobody has quite noticed your sluggish movements in the awkward space of releasing adrenaline fading after days of building. The emptiness of it, the sudden space for more emotion and thought, is something you usually relish in. You enjoy having a puzzle to focus on, a problem to solve, simply for the pleasure of the release of that worry at the end. The solution is more satisfying than the untangling but you can't focus on that now, eyes unfocused as you watch Hotch cross his arms.

His muscles flex under the fabric of his shirt pulled tight around them. It's this distraction that you'll blame on the haziness of your thought, ignoring the consistent pain at the side of your skull.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, trying to bring your mind to focus on your actual priorities. You have processed you should be following, things to focus on, something important that you need to tell someone. You can't remember what, though, everything buried under the ever present haze of pain.

A call of your last name has your eyes snapping open. Hotch is looking at you now, eyes concerned. You struggle to think of what you've done to bring that look to his face.

Slow processing brings you to remember that you should probably be over there, reporting on the fight that he didn't see.

"Sorry," you say, louder then you wanted, scrambling to stand up.

"For?" Hotch asks, striding toward you. You could have swore that he was further away, that the space between you two was vast, far enough that your vision had reason to blur and you had enough cover to be staring at anything - not obvious that you were ogling him.

"Hm?" You ask, confused already, ignoring his offered hand to stand.

"Are you okay?" He asks, eyes flickering over your face.

You flush, blinking hard once and then again, slowly, nodding before attempting to walk closer to him, stumbling on your steps.

The world tilts, spinning, focused around Hotch (always, always focused on him) and you see his face catch on panic as you fall before everything goes dark.

----

You wake up in a hospital, the fluorescent lights familiar and unwelcome. You groan out, upset.

Your name catches your attention, a voice you would know anywhere. God, why is he here? You're sure you look a mess and whatever injury caused this visit is certainly not enough to warrant his attention and worry.

"Come on beautiful, it's time to wake up," a hand passing over your forehead reminds you that you shut your eyes against the lights and you warily open them again.

Hotch is in a sweatshirt, leaning against the railing of your bed, a kind smile on his face.

"Hi," he says, voice soft. "I'm very angry at you."

"Yeah, seems like it," you say, sarcasm dripping, before you remember who you're talking to. Your face warms rapidly, "oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say that."

Hotch looks overjoyed, though, a smile widening across his face, warm and sweet. "Who knew a concussion is all I needed to crack that shell of yours?"

"Concussion?"

"Exactly the reason I'm mad, actually."

"What?" You ask, confused again, closing your eyes at a throb of pain.

Hotch chuckles, you're sure the sound of it will be your undoing, too hot as the sound of it bounces through your ears and straight to your chest.

"We'll talk about it later, rest now."

sorry I've been gone. I haven't proof read this, either, nor have I written in weeks. I missed you guys, though <3

[incorrectbatfam]

Jason: *points gun at Bruce*

Bruce: I don't believe in guns.

Jason: Well, trust me, they're very real.

[wondersinwaynemanor]

Red Hood and Red Robin greeting each other seriously during patrol so that RR can give the coordinates of a homeless child somewhere in Crime Alley. as if they weren't talking about explosives the other night and Jason didn't teach Tim to bake the coffee cupcakes he loves so much.

Later in a few

Red Hood, crushes the bags of stimulants on his hand and throws them on the sewers: Get a fucking new hobby. These things are disgusting.

Goon, runs: Fuck you, Hood!

Red Hood, sighs: What an idiot- The fuck. Where's my other gu-

Red Hood sighs again.

Red Hood, speaks to the rest of the family through the comms before chasing the goon: The kid's got my weapon again.

Nightwing: Robin, what -

Robin: Negative. It's not me.

Batman, pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits on a gargoyle somewhere in Gotham and thinks, "Here we go again."

Somewhere at a rooftop in Metropolis

Kon: Um Tim, I know you have plans of destruction, but-

Tim puts the weapon at the back of his suit. and Kon wonders how do the Bats even have places for weapons on their suits?

Tim: Nah, this is a comeback for him stealing one of the cupcakes you like at my apartment.

Kon: I already told you I'm over it!

Red Hood, hears the conversation through the comms and screams: Like the boy said, he's over it! Give that back to me!

[destielmemenews]

"A source briefed on the investigation said each word was meticulously written, not etched, onto the casings in Sharpie. Officials are examining the casings to determine whether the words could be related to a possible motive involving insurance companies and their responses to claims. Investigators believe they could reference "the three D's of insurance" coined by the industry's critics, which are "delay," "deny" and "defend." The alliteration is a comment on the tactics that opponents say insurance companies use to delay or deny policyholders' claims."

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[destiel-news-channel]

[Image ID: The Destiel confession meme edited so that Dean answers 'Shots have been fired at Trump. He seems to have suffered no severe injuries' to Cas' 'I love you'. /End ID]

source (tw prominent pictures with blood)