got ammo

Let’s get one thing fucking straight

The Las Vegas shooter was not mentally ill

He planned this out

Picked the weapon

Picked the event

Picked the hotel

Picked the room

He knew damn well what he was doing

He is sane

And he is a fucking monster

Stop trying to humanize him

Stop dragging those that actually suffer with mental illness under the bus

Stop acting like we’re the problem with gun violence

Stop IGNORING how this monster LEGALLY got his hands on 17 semi automatic rifles –modified them to make them automatic– then got enough ammo to kill 59 people and injure over 510 more

Stop letting people say that this isn’t about gun control

Stop tolerating the bullshit because it’s the easier thing to do

Start speaking the fuck up because you don’t know when you’ll end up watching people die around you just because you went out to have some fun

devilangel657  asked:

Obi wan being sithnip with 212th being protective of him from Sith.

There were three things the 212th had quickly learned when it came to their General.

One, he flirted with danger as naturally as he could breath and was his own sass center.

Two, he was a magnet for trouble.

And three, he was a First Light karking sithnip magnet.

Everywhere they went they usually encountered some form for Sith, ready to pounce and take away their General in some manner. Either because they wanted to keep him (see Dooku), kill him (see Grievous and Maul) or a bizarre mix of the two (see Ventress).

Or just hate fuck him. Which seemed to aligned with Ventress and might also include Maul if he had a damn lower body.

One thing was for sure though, all of them wanted to capture the Jedi and it had become a bizarre hunt of some egg hunt almost.

“Alright, quiet down! We got any shiny’s today?” Trapper asked cheerfully while Cody held up two fingers. “Oh two? Good good, then we get to go through the initiation.”

“Initiation?” One of them whispered.

“Yup!” Trapper pulled up four holo images. “These are the Sith we usually fight, I’m sure everyone knows this.”

A chorus of yes, a few boos and one thrown glove at the image of Dooku.

“Yes yes yes, but this is for the shiny’s benefits. Now, this is Yan Dooku, the Count of Serenno and a general bastard though we normally don’t see him. Now everything you’ve been taught about him keep that in mind but this walk through is because our General is Sithnip.”


Trapper clapped his hands together. “Yes! Sithnip. As in Sith are drawn to him like fucking cats to nip. And Yan Dooku is the safest one when it comes to General Kenobi as he doesn’t want him dead normally and just abducted to take…somewhere. But like I said, he’s generally not around since he tries to lead the army from afar if he can or through his henchmen.” Trapper turned to the next one.

“Now this sons of metal bitch is General Grievous. He just wants to murder. Shoot on sight if the General is near to distract said son of a metal bitch, if the General is out, grab the General and run. Or do what Waxer did and explode a can of paint on him and THEN grab the General.”

There was some scattering of laughter.

“Oi, its a viable plan, he was distracted!” Waxer grinned.

“Yeah yeah you bitch.” Trapper sniggered before turning to the third one. “This is Maul. If he had a lower body he would most likely want to hate fuck our General and then kill him. Or kill him and then hate fuck him.”

“Ugh, the images.” Cody grumbled and rubbed his face. “He’s dangerous and if he’s on planet, stick to the General as glue, he tends to try and confront him alone and each time has lead to our General coming back wounded.” He added for Trapper’s benefit.

General hisses and booing happened and this time a boot got thrown at the holograms.

“…Someone is going to be missing armor by the end of this.” Trapper peered down at the boot before switching to the last one. “This is Asajj Ventress, apprentice to Dooku and general all over bitch who both has the parts and will to hate fuck our General. And then deliver him to her master or kill him all depending on the general mood that day.” Trapper rolled his shoulders. “She’s fond of choking people with the Force. Shot her down if you can and don’t spare the ammo, you got her in your sight? You fire and you don’t stop until your blaster is empty. Because unlike the others she can be hit if she’s distracted by the General. She’s very goal oriented and if the goal is to drag Kenobi away she will but it can be at the expense at her own safety.”

“Well at least that’s useful.”

“What about if General Skywalker is on field too?” The second shiny questioned. Everyone knew the saying, where there was a Kenobi there was a Skywalker.

“If the 501st is with us and General Skywalker is on field, you stay the kark out of his way and let him deal with the Sith since he’s better equipped to it and focus on getting our General out of the way if he’s passed out. Or you provide backup fire. The thing is however as the war has progressed, the General has steadily been dropping the armor he used to wear as he used to wear a full set before so pay close attention to his position at all times.” Trapper hummed before freezing, staring at the back of the tent.

“This is utterly fascinating, I had no idea you actually went through a briefing of this.” General Kenobi drawled, a cup of tea in hand.

Cody stared at the man in horror.

“Sithnip? Really? I need to tell Anakin about that…” The Jedi hummed and took a slow sip of tea.

don’t push it cowboy (carl grimes x reader)

You have been on your own since the beginning, always keeping yourself away from people. So when a boy in a sheriff hat came fighting into your life you were more than surprised.

pairing: carl grimes x reader

warnings: violence, and swearing

a/n: takes place in the beginning of season 7. Unedited I hope you guys still like it :) might do a part 2!

Y/N= your name

  That morning had been like any other you woke up huddled on the branches of a tree with your backpack. You would climb trees to insure yourself safety as you slept, people rarely look up there and if they did they might just think you were a corpse (you had enough walker blood on your clothes from fighting to look like one) and the dead had no possible way of getting to you.

You got down the tree and started towards the gas station you saw last night. By the time you got to the gas station last night it was too dark to go check inside so you decided to wait until morning. You push threw the door and a small bell jingles causing you to grab your gun out of instinct, you hold up the gun as you make your way down the first isle. 

“Shit” you breathe, as you throw an empty can on the ground, nothing absolutely nothing. You walk down the final isle almost at the front when you hear that damn bell jingle as someone or something walks into the small gas stations store you put your back up against one of the shelves to try and not be seen before you have a plan. “I got this one dad.” is all you hear before the door shuts. 

Keep reading

Badlands//Derek Hale AU

First stab at the apocalypse AU. Let’s see where this goes.

Characters: Derek Hale, Malia Tate, Liam Dunbar, Mason Hewitt, Reader.

Originally posted by expressivedolphin

You sling your bag down onto the bench, tossing yourself down beside it. You’d just killed all the biters in the area and now you were taking a breather.

You sigh, looking up at the sky. You’d been alone since the start of The Awakening. You’d just graduated high school and moved into your dorm. You tried to go home and you didn’t find anyone, not even an old family friend. You’d been counting the days in your notebook, it had been 183 days. A very long time to be alone, a very long time time to have all of your thoughts in your mind by themselves.

You feel the sun start to make your skin itch and you sigh once more, throwing your bag over your shoulder. You push on, smacking the sign as you walk past it. You stop, taking a couple steps back to read the signs.

“Welcome to Beacon Hills.” You snort, “Another hellhole to navigate.”

You smack the sign once more, beginning your walk toward the town. Where would you go? Was there a shelter here? Probably not. You could stay in a house and risk being looted or you could stay in a big building. A big building runs the risk of biters overtaking.

You push open the doors, looking around. You stay silent, hoping to hear the signs of any biters. You’d decided to go to the high school. If worse came to worse you could hide in a classroom. You sneak through the school, finding the gym. You open the doors, the lingering smell of floor wax making your stomach twist up with the memories of high school. You glance around, putting your bag on the pulled out bleachers.

You take your jacket off, turning around to pull your hair up when you feel something pressed to your back. “Move and you’re dead. What’s your name and what do you want?”

“I’m Y/N. Last names don’t matter. I’m just looking for shelter.” You drop your hair, putting your hands up. “What’s your name?”

“Unimportant. Come on.” He grabs the back of your shirt, pulling you out of the gym.

He pushes you into a classroom and you look up at a girl about your age, and two guys.

“Who the hell is this?” The girl asks.

“Apparently her name’s Y/N.” He shrugs.

“And you just let her in here? What if she’s infected?” The girl argues.

“I-I’m not. I swear. You can strip search me if you want, I’m not infected.” You shake your head.

“How are we supposed to know?” One of the boys asks.

“Who are you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Liam.” He says simply, turning to Derek. “Search her for a bite.”

“Oh my God, you’re really going to strip search me?” You gape.

“I-uh…” The man stops, glancing at the three before you. “Should I?”

Liam sighs, “Let me do it.”

“Oh, I bet you want to.” The girl rolls her eyes.

“Look, a bite takes three days to spread and kill. Quarantine me for three days if you’re so worried.”

“I don’t think we have to. Why can’t we trust her?” The other boy steps forward and you silently thank him.

“Mason, why do you feel the need to trust everyone?” Liam turns to him, “Not everyone is good.”

“But I think she is. Search her bag.” Mason shrugs.

“Yeah. Yes. Search my bag.” You nod quickly, “It’s in the gym.”

“Malia and I will go. You and Derek stay here.” Mason nods. So those were their names. Derek must be the one with the gun shoved into your back, Malia the girl. Mason and Malia jog out of the classroom, Derek shoving you into a seat.

“How long have you been here?” Derek asks.

“What do you want?” He prods.

“Shelter. I told you. I don’t know what supplies you have but I’m not asking you to share.”

Liam hums, “I don’t think she’s dangerous. But she could be infected.”

“Good thing you don’t make the calls around here.” Derek looks up at Liam and raises both eyebrows and Liam sighs.

“If Scott was here he’d listen.” Liam crosses his arms and sits down.

“I’m not Scott. Sorry you’re stuck with me.” Derek retorts.

“Who’s Scott?” You ask.

Derek and Liam glare at you, “None of your business.” They say in unison.

You sigh, “Listen, I’ll just leave Beacon Hills if I’m going to be treated this way. I’ve been alone since the beginning and I plan on staying that way. Let me get my things and I’ll go.”

“You think we’re just going to let you know that there’s a group of four in the high school and then let you free? We don’t know if you’re really alone.” Derek says.

“But, I am. I have no one. You’re the first person I’ve talked to in months.” You swallow thickly, looking between the two.

“You’re telling the truth.” Derek says lowly.

“Duh.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh, you’re going to be a smartass now?” He scoffs.

“I have no reason to lie to you!” Derek removes the gun from your back and you stand up, “I just want shelter. How many times will I have to say this?”

Mason walks into the room, holding your bag up, “She’s only got ammo and water. Her gun’s on her.”

“She’s fine. She’s not lying.” Derek states.

“Don’t tell me we’re just letting her in.” Malia crosses her arms, “She could know how to steady her heartbeat.”

“What the hell? Steady my heartbeat? You can hear my heartbeat?” You ask quickly and Derek gives Malia a look.

“You’re staying with us for now. Whether you like it or not.” He nods at you.

“Thanks for letting me make that decision.” You sigh, shifting your weight.

“Keep making remarks like that and we’ll lock you in the freak room.” Derek squints.

“The freak room?” You raise an eyebrow as you turn to face him.

“A classroom upstairs where we keep the freaks. We rounded up the strays and put them up there. In case of emergency.”

“You call them freaks?” You sigh, “I can already tell you lot will be loads of fun.”

“That’s three strikes.” Derek puts his gun down, “You’re lucky I’m feeling charitable today.”

Liam scoffs, “No. You’re lucky you’re hot.”

Out of all the places you could’ve gone, you wound up at the place inhabited by a bunch of hostile assholes.

Just your luck.

You Know What I Want?

If all video games are going to go the MMO route, and we’re all doomed to play some version of Overwatch/Destiny/SuperMegaShootingBattle for the rest of time, can we PLEASE have a Clone Wars MMO?

LIke, I know that SWTOR is a thing that exists but I don’t want to play EA’s extended KOTOR Part 3 Now With Even Less Logic AND New Sith Villains That You Never Knew Existed!

I also know Star Wars: Battlefront 2, Imperial Boogaloo is coming out and while that’s going to have Clones and maybe Jedi (and apparently Darth Maul shooting down Yoda? WTF?) that’s not totally what I want.

I want something simple. You pick Republic or Separatist. Jedi or Clone. And I’m sure there are variations that go from there from like ARC trooper, to medic, to I dunno. Stuff! *hand waves* Jedi can borrow from KOTOR or add shadows or whatever. I’m not picky.

And then you go out and you fight the goddamned Clone Wars.

You shoot an endless barrage of droids. You fight and fight and you try not to let the others in your party get killed. You protect your clones with all your might because they’ve got ammo and numbers (and they’re YOUR MEN, damnit.) and you have one tiny plasma chainsaw and some very nice linen for armor.

I want to be a part of the assault on Geonosis or Umbara. I want to be in the skies trying to lay down cover so General Crazypants and his sidekick General Nutjob (now with Adorable Mascot Commander Takes-No-Shit-From-Anybody) can pull of another ridiculous attempt to save the Republic from Count Dooku.

I know that I won’t get something like this because the people in charge of Star Wars want to make money and the Current Generation That Has Money has a serious boner for All Things Original Trilogy and Ewww! Prequels but this is what I want.

I want a Clone Wars MMO.

anonymous asked:

How feasable and/or effective would it be to eject an empty handgun magazine and kick it (accuratley) towards an opponent from mid-fall during a close quarters fight (say a melee attacker rushing down a corridor towards the kicker)?

No, and no.

So, first thing is that, depending on the handgun, the magazine may not drop freely. This is a preference feature. Some people prefer to release the magazine and pull it free, while others prefer to allow the magazine to drop freely into their hand when ejected. There isn’t really a, “better,” option here. Both positions come down to what the user finds more intuitive and comfortable.

If you’re wondering, this isn’t something that’s likely to trip up an experienced shooter. Anyone who’s spent time on a variety of firearms should be able to adapt to the gun they’re handling. You can also tell if the magazine will drop away when you load a magazine; based on the amount of friction experienced.

Even with a pistol where the magazine can drop freely, you’re not going to want to literally drop the magazine on the floor, or kick it. Handgun magazines are expensive; Depending on the model of handgun, those could cost anywhere from $10 to over $100 (on some rarer pistols). (I was specifically looking at a Bren Ten magazine for the upper end of the spectrum, if anyone’s wondering.) If anyone’s thinking back to the Desert Eagle post from a couple months ago, those magazines will set you back a little under $50 each. You do not use these once and discard them.

You also don’t, usually, want to eject empty magazines. Much like your car, you never want to run a gun dry. While it’s fairly easy, in a controlled situation, or on a range to keep track of how many times you’ve fired, and to know the exact state of your weapon; this is much more difficult in a real firefight.

You reload when you think you might be getting low, or when you’ve got time and ammo to spare, you put the partial magazine in a different pocket from your fresh mags, and replace it with a fresh one. The last place you ever want to be is in a situation like the one you just described: staring at someone who wants to kill you with an empty gun in your hand.

Fresh mags are heavy. That is to say, depending on the gun, a fully loaded magazine can easily weigh more than a pound. Most of that weight comes from the loaded rounds; the magazine itself is just a thin plastic or metal shell to hold and feed them into the firearm. They’re really not designed to take much abuse, and depending on the magazine, may be somewhat fragile.

Under controlled circumstances, kicking a falling object is something that a practiced martial artist should be able to do easily. Putting it in the rough vicinity of where they want it is also quite doable. Being able to do either of these things in an actual combat situation, not so much.

This is the kind of stunt you’d expect to see in a John Woo film, (I’d be slightly surprised if he hasn’t done some variation of this), and I know I’ve seen it on film before, somewhere. It’s in that range of slightly ludicrous that plays well when you’re working with characters that are (at least) slightly superhuman. But, if you’re dealing with normal, mortal, characters, this is neither feasible nor effective.


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dearophelia  asked:

14 for Garrus/Eliza!

14. ‘I don’t have the words right now so here’s a kiss’

AKA: Bee gets weirdly self-referential because why the heck not? :D


Even with the wind, and the static, and the strange echo far down in the comm channel, Shepard knew an apology when she heard one, which was the only reason why she kept a leash on her temper.

“Copy that, Joker. See you in eight hours.”

“I’d say stay frosty, but it doesn’t look like you’ll have any trouble with that. Joker out.”

She ground her teeth — maybe she should’ve taken a few strips out of Joker’s hide, just in case she froze to death and never got the chance, but then the high cold wind buffeted her against the wall, and she dove back into the relative shelter of the lab. The lab that had damn well better be free of any cute little Cerberus surprises.

Garrus looked up as she climbed down the access ladder, the turian equivalent of a smirk plastered across his face for all of two seconds before it faded away into blank stoicism. Shepard briefly wondered what her face had looked like, to wipe any jokes out of his head that fast, but the light of the heating coils beckoned, and she left wondering behind.

“Eight hours till the storm clears long enough for Steve to pick us up. God, it’s freezing up there,” she said, clapping her hands and rubbing them together to get her circulation going. Implants or not, she still got cold like everyone else, and if she leaned too heavily on Miranda’s upgrades to keep her warm, she’d burn through what little fat reserves she had left.

I’m sure you regret not eating when I told you to, said the smug mental Miranda that hovered, as always, in the back of Shepard’s head. Maybe next time you’ll be more agreeable, though I’d sooner bet on you having a pleasant interaction with the Council.

Shepard silently and cheerfully told the smug mental Miranda to shut the hell up, and gave the lab a quick visual scan. “I’m impressed, Garrus,” she said a moment later, and meant it. “It’s almost cozy down here now.”

“I think I did pretty well, given the circumstances,” Garrus replied. He reached behind his back without looking, tugged another thermal blanket free, and tossed it one-handed to her over the coils.

Shepard nearly tore the thing in half trying to get it unfolded, but once she had it wrapped around her shoulders, she was too busy appreciating the small — but noticeable — jump in body temperature. “Considering that the circumstances are ‘freezing our asses off on Noveria’ —”

“Again.” The darkness beyond the coils’ light darkened Garrus’ scars to near-black, but his eyes stayed bright — bright, and clear, and so damn trusting. Shepard swallowed hard, and almost wanted to blame the ache in her throat on the cold. “We’re freezing our asses off on Noveria again.”

“Right you are.” Shepard held his gaze, the ache not fading, even as a smile tugged at her lips. “I think I prefer this time around. Shooting Cerberus is so much less…” She spread her hands, searching for the right words. “Complicated.”

The unspoken because we’re not going to have to shoot our friend’s mother or decide the future of an entire race hung between them, frigid as the air outside.

It was so heavy sometimes, sharing this much history with someone. Sure, the weight was shared, but Shepard saw it reflected in Garrus’ eyes, felt it shift and settle around them. All the thing they had done, all the things they would do — was it any surprise they didn’t have to talk anymore, if they didn’t want to?

She was so tired, no amount of sleep could touch that bone-cracking weariness, but she could keep going a little longer, if Garrus just stayed close.

“So,” Garrus said, eventually. “We’ve both got rations for two days, we’ve got blankets, we’ve got ammo in case things get horrible and interesting again, and, thanks to our Cerberus friends —”

Shepard snorted and shivered at the same time. Friends was a hilarious word for people who had lined the corridors of this particular base with enough tripwire to take down a full platoon — though seeing as how she and Garrus had started off the festivities with something Miranda described as “not exactly nerve gas”, she didn’t exactly blame them.

“Thank to our Cerberus friends,” Garrus went on, loftily, the smirk starting to spread his mandibles again, “we’ve got enough heating coils to survive for a week. Things could be worse. This could be Benning.”

“And they definitely have been worse, so don’t jinx it.” Shepard debated staying where she was — with her back against the wall and her legs stretched out in front of her, she was as comfortable in full armor as she could get — but seconds later she gave in to temptation, and shuffled around the coils to lean into Garrus’ side.

Why the hell not? No one was around, not that anyone on the Normandy would make any cutesy comments except Vega, and he usually knew when to quit. But opportunities like this came along so rarely — quiet, private opportunities — that she was willing to accept the non-zero probability of more Cerberus disasters or frostbite, and just enjoy the rise and fall of Garrus’ breathing.

“It just seems to me we’ve got a few hours to fill, and all the really fun ways are out,” Garrus said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Their shared heat warmed the air under the blankets, and Shepard sighed as the edge of drowsiness started to creep up on her.

“Well, I left my cards on the Normandy —”

“You don’t own cards, Shepard, you just appropriated Vega’s.”

“Spectre privilege. Anyways, my cards are on the Normandy, and one of us should keep watch…” She sighed again, and let her eyes drift closed. “But if anyone sneaks up on us, I figure they deserve to, coming all the way out here in the cold.”

“They probably do.” A long silence ticked past before he spoke again. “Feels strange, sitting still. Not that there’s anything we can do, but…”

But there was no end to what needed to be done. She opened her eyes, turned her head to trace the lines of Garrus’ face with her eyes. “Nothing we can do but enjoy the quiet,” she said, finding his free hand and squeezing it. “Soon enough, Vega’ll show up, all wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.

Garrus huffed laughter, then hummed to himself. “What’s that human phrase for when you think you’ve seen something before? Deja something?”

“Deja vu.”

“What you said about Vega…for a second there, I almost saw it.” Another quiet laugh. “Strangest feeling.”

“After all we’ve been through?” Shepard kissed his mandible, relishing the warmth under her mouth. Thank God for turians, and for this one in particular, for always running a few degrees above human baseline. “Deja vu should be the least strange of all.”

Garrus hummed again, then let his head rest on top of hers. A few moments later, his breathing deepened, slowed. Shepard smiled to herself. Look who’s getting first watch.

With nothing else to do but watch the coils pulse, Shepard turned back to the last thing Garrus had said. She’d meant it when she told him deja vu was the least strange thing of all; if a universe existed where machines from dark space rose to wipe out the living, and where resurrection was not just a possibility but a fact, was precognition such a jump? Or — the more likely suggestion — was the idea of alternate timelines, alternate universes, so improbable?

Maybe all deja vu was, was when two of those universes got close enough to brush against each other, events almost mirrored from one to the other. How would the people in either place feel then, so near to an alternate reality? Maybe somewhere Vega did pop in with one of his terrible catchphrases, while in this universe he was on the other side of Noveria, making nice with Gianna Parasini.

Maybe somewhere she hadn’t died, and died, and died again, and she didn’t hear old, slow voices in her sleep. Maybe, somewhere, they were winning.

And maybe I’m half asleep and my brain is pretending I’m on that shower-thoughts extranet site.

She shook her head, and felt Garrus shift and sit up next to her.

“Sorry — Shepard? What is it?”

“Just thinking,” she said, leaning back into him. “Go back to sleep. I’ve got you.”

Impossible not to feel how his whole body went still at those words, impossible to miss the terrible, hopeful way his eyes met hers, like he couldn’t believe what she’d just said.

Then I’ll say it again, as many times as I need to. But she didn’t, not then — she kissed him instead, one hand braced on his keel, the other still holding his. Garrus made a quiet, muffled sound of surprise, then cupped the back of her head, his hand just this side of too tight.

No, they didn’t need words, not really. Never would.

If we get through this, she thought about saying, for the thousandth, millionth time, then stopped herself. No bigger jinx than this one: hoping for a future, when anything past the next few hours was a crapshoot.

Oh, fuck it, Shepard thought, and kissed Garrus again, hard enough to forget the cold. Let it be some other universe where disaster struck; she deserved to be selfish just this once.

“If we get out of this,” she said, pulling away so she could meet his eyes. “Garrus, I promise you — I’ll never take you to Noveria again.”

He didn’t smile. Didn’t need to. He kissed her again, slowly, then tipped his forehead against hers. “Deal,” he said.

anonymous asked:

I have a story to tell you buddy. Once I was on the deathwatch with a Blood Raven, were fightin' xenos and the like. Then one moment he turns to me and goes "got any ammo? I'm all out" so I'm like "yeah one sec" but he cuts me off with a "never mind I got it". I look down and HE STOLE THE MAGAZINE OUT OF MY BOLTER AND THE ROUND IN THE CHAMBER. These assholes with nick anything worth a damn.

anonymous asked:

Hey Steph! Can you explain to me the whole amo=love instead of ammunition concept? I see it around a lot, but don't remember it being referenced in Sherlock? Is it just something this fandom made up? Thanks :) have a good day!

Hi Nonny!


Mary gives us what she thought it meant here:

SHERLOCK: Who employed you?
MARY: Anyone who paid well. I mean, we were at the top of our game for years, and then it all ended. There was a coup in Georgia. The British embassy in Tbilisi was taken over; lots of hostages. We got the call to go in, get them out. There was a change of plan, a last-minute adjustment.
SHERLOCK: Who from?
MARY: I don’t know. Just another voice on the phone, and a code word, “Ammo.”
MARY: Like ‘ammunition.’

Ajay explains how he was tortured with it:

SHERLOCK (calmly, quietly): What did you hear, Ajay? When you were a prisoner, what exactly did you hear?
(John glances across to him as he speaks then looks back towards Ajay and blows out a quiet breath.)
AJAY: What did I hear?
(He opens his mouth to form a word but hesitates for a moment before he manages to say it.)
AJAY: Ammo. Every day as they tore into me. Ammo. Ammo. 

Then Sherlock figures out “ammo”in this exchange here:

SHERLOCK (over phone): The English woman. That’s all he heard. Naturally he assumed it was Mary.
MYCROFT: Couldn’t this wait until you’re back?
SHERLOCK (still in the same room in Morocco, although it seems that Ajay’s body has been removed): No, it’s not over. Ajay said that they’d been betrayed. The hostage takers knew AGRA were coming. There was only a voice on the phone, remember, and a code word.
MYCROFT: Ammo, yes, you said.
SHERLOCK: How’s your Latin, brother dear?
MYCROFT (frowning): My Latin?
SHERLOCK: Amo, amas, amat.
MYCROFT (still frowning as he translates the Latin words): I love, you love, he loves. What …?
(He stops. Apparently he’s got it.)
SHERLOCK: Not ‘ammo’ as in ‘ammunition’ but ‘amo,’ meaning …?
(Mycroft raises an eyebrow then starts to straighten up, his face stern.)
MYCROFT: You’d better be right, Sherlock.
(He hangs up. Sherlock does likewise, and the Holmes brothers start to move away.)

And then followed up here:

LADY SMALLWOOD: This is absolutely ridiculous and you know it. How many more times?
MYCROFT: Six years ago you held the brief for foreign operations, code name “Love.”
LADY SMALLWOOD: And you’re basing all this on a code name? On a whispered voice on the telephone? Come on, Mycroft.
MYCROFT: You were the conduit for AGRA. Every assignment, every detail, they got from you.
LADY SMALLWOOD: It was my job.
MYCROFT (unfolding his hands and sitting back): Then there was the Tbilisi incident. AGRA went in.
MYCROFT: And they were betrayed.
LADY SMALLWOOD (firmly): Not by me.
(Mycroft just looks at her. She takes in a breath and sighs it out.)
LADY SMALLWOOD: Mycroft, we’ve known each other a long time. I promise you, I haven’t the foggiest idea what all this is about. You wound up AGRA and all the other freelancers. (Slowly, emphatically) I haven’t done any of the things you’re accusing me of. Not one. (Even more emphatically) Not. One.


So essentially, Mary assumed it was just a codeword for guns, and Sherlock thinks it has to do with Lady Smallwood, whose code name is Love.

Now that I’m re-reading and examining this scene though… They never actually are referring to the PERSON “Amo” are they? EVERYONE keeps saying “the English woman AND a codeword”. IF Lady Smallwood was directly being referenced, why are they NOT saying “The woman ‘Amo’”, or… Love. Why use an obscure Latin word rather than call her what they think the codeword was? 

And what’s even more curious, as I reread the text above… they NEVER SAY IF THE VOICE AND THE ENGLISH WOMAN ARE ONE IN THE SAME. I even went back a bit to clarify the second exchange:

AJAY (savagely): We were betrayed!
SHERLOCK: And they said it was her?
AJAY (to Mary): You betrayed us!
SHERLOCK (firmly): They said her name?
AJAY: Yeah, they said it was the English woman.

“They” is referring to Ajay’s CAPTORS, and THEY’RE the ones saying they were looking for an English Woman; NOT necessarily the person who was on the phone. 


AND it’s that last bolded bit by Lady Smallwood that has me interested indeed. She has NO idea what Mycroft is talking about. And following the convo, Mycroft looks guiltily down to the table and then to the one way mirror, PROBABLY silently hoping his brother hasn’t figured out the inconsistency here.

So. This has me thinking that Mycroft WAS and IS indeed involved with AGRA / Mary, MYCROFT was the soft voice on the phone (which then could tie back to TGG and the soft voices directing people to Moriarty) and AMMO is indeed the codeword, not Amo. “Amo” is literally Sherlock having Love on the brain… this is the connections he is making, and it just HAPPENED that Smallwood has the codename “Love”.

What’s bothering me about the whole Ammo thing is that they SPECIFICALLY keep saying Ammo SEPARATE from the person they are looking for, and that makes NO SENSE if they are looking for a person. Why Latin? MARY is the one bringing up “ammo” in the first place. I think she definitely betrayed her team, and knows EXACTLY what AMMO is. It’s NOT a person, it was her mission. 

Another thought, was it OMMA? There is a very brief scene where OMMA is shown on screen as well. Could this or AMMO be another acronym like AGRA?

These are all things to think about, and I’ve probably confused you even more, Lovely. Sorry. D: I love when I’m freeform meta writing and come up with thoughts as I write replies to this stuff only to confuse the issues further.

anonymous asked:

Can you please do jealous headcanons for Ichigo, Shuhei, Kensei and Renji? Thank you!

Ichigo Kurosaki: This poor baby gets jealous so easily, but he won’t ever admit it! Everyone can see the angry in his eyes and how he wants to barge in the conversation and snatch his lover away, but he thinks about his pride and keeps it all inside.

Shuhei Hisagi: It is hard to actually maks Shuhei jealous but when he gets jealous you can tell. He looks distant and stand off-ish he just glares at his lover and the person that he is jealous of until they both get uncomfortable and part ways.

Kensei Mugurama: If you asked Kensei he would tell you “ I never get jealous” and his lying when he says it too. Kensei will throw such a fit when he sees you talking to a particularly guy, and seeing his partner laugh and smile at their “corny ass jokes”. His lover won’t know that he is jealous until they get home and he starts yelling at them for being “too” comfortable with a random guy.

Renji Abarai: Renji is the type of guy who would tell his lover straight up not to talk to someone because he is getting jealous. His lover might think that he is joking and might start laughing but when they see how serious he really is, they will comply and not talk to that person at all.


Jack: Alright guys! Everyone got enough ammo?

Ray: Yup.

Jeremy: Fuck yeah. Even got that song queued up that got composed to go with fireworks.

Ryan: I have more than enough explosives, and I’m sure Michael can manage to double my stock.

Michael: More than double, Ryan. Try triple.

Jack: Alright. We’ve got enough firework rockets for everyone with rocket launchers, so grab a pack and let’s go.

Jeremy: Let’s get patriotic!

Michael: Fuck yeah!

Ray: Happy fuckin’ birthday, America.

Happy 4th of July to our American followers!