last second shot

10

So, let us catch our killer.

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I don’t know the story of this self defense shooting but here are some things we can learn:
1. Speed, surprise, and violence of action is demonstrated.
2. Close quarters gunfights last seconds.
3. One shot usually isn’t enough to stop someone.
4. Bad guys work in pairs. From the looks of this video, the guy in dark clothes has a revolver of his own, but flees as soon as shooting starts. Why? Because most criminals are cowards and flee at the first sign of resistance. They don’t expect resistance. They expect an easy hit.
5. Even if the odds are against you numerically… you can still triumph and protect others through your decisive action.
Train hard everyone. Keep your head on a swivel. Carry a gun with a lot of bullets.
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#selfdefense #shooting #protectothers

6

“Tell me.” You prompted again, stepping forward and eyeing Harrison; silently pleading with him to tell you the truth… 

You weren’t sure if it was just a trick of the mind or if he’d done it specifically for you because about ten minutes after you sought Harrison out - burying your tear-stained face against the paradise that was his shoulder and crying your eyes out over the fact that Jay had dumped you - he was ripping himself away and heading down the corridor. If you hadn’t heard the yelling and earth shattering crash in the cortex as both men knocked over a case full of glass beakers, you probably wouldn’t have ever known Harrison had stalked off to rip Garrick a new one. It was only after you ran into the room that they stopped and took a step away from each other with sheepish expressions like a couple of dogs who had just gotten caught digging through the kitchen trash.

Harry. Tell me…” You tried again. “Why did you hit him? I want the truth.”

“Because I’m…” With tense shoulders, he shook his head and wiped a hand over his mouth before looking to you, nearly exasperated as he continued searching his mind for the right words. “I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

(X) (X) (~♫♪~)

Request: Harrison Wells imagine where Jay broke up with you and he’s secretly in love with you so he punches him?

Happy Birthday

pairing: ashton x reader

rating: R

this has major daddy kink (bc its ash like come on) and its his birthday so why not dedicate a smut to the now 22 year old hunk of aussie?

enjoy friends xx


You slipped the hotel key into the slot, letting yourself into the lavish hotel room you and Ashton had rented exclusively for tonight. It was more of a penthouse, large windows overlooking the city below and the bedroom was unreal. He was throwing his 22nd birthday party downstairs at the hotel’s bar, and you had snuck off upstairs to get changed into something more appropriate for when Ashton came up. You found a bottle of champagne sitting out already, and quickly grabbed one of the glasses sitting next to it and popped the bottle, pouring yourself a glass and one for Ashton, leaving it for him.

Kicking off your heels, followed by your tight dress, you reached into your bag and pulled out the light pink lingerie set you had bought specifically for his birthday; Ashton loved it when you wore lacy lingerie, and he loved how he could just tear it right off your body. Once you slipped on the delicate garments, you stepped back into your black stilettos and scurried to the bathroom to touch up your makeup quickly. 

Puckering your lips and marveling at your appearance in the mirror, you ruffled your hair some, hearing Ashton fumble with the door. This was your cue to make your way to the bed, taking a seat with your champagne glass in one hand and your legs crossed teasingly. 

“Baby? You in here?” He called out, making his way to the door to see you sitting there, finishing off the glass.

You turned to face him when you were done with it, smirking up at him whilst his mouth hung slightly open, shocked to see you all ready for him. You stood up, walking over to the bedside table and leaned over to set the glass down, making sure to sway your ass a little and show off the lacy thong you wore. Ashton hadn’t said a word, just swallowed the lump in his throat as you walked back over to him, slipping your hands past his waist and gripping the back of his shoulders, pressing your lips to his. You trailed light kisses all along his jawline and up to his ear, nibbling on it before whispering to him, “Happy birthday, Daddy.”

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Winter Interrupted (Part 9/?) (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Part 8

The next time you opened your eyes, the pain stung and the tears rolled freely to clear the grime and debris away, and you were thankful for that ability.  You felt like you were carrying the weight of a building on your back, and it very well could have been true after the explosion that shook the ground beneath your feet and toppled everyone to the ground. You lifted your head as much as you could, searching for anyone or anything familiar, breathing a restricted sigh of relief at the view of Steve, running and appearing unharmed, coming closer to you as he called out something that you couldn’t hear.

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8

Delena + their baby pictures

PR teams are a pain: part 2

Part 1 / Part 3

Request: “It’s 3am. Wanna go get some pizza?” with Michael + part 2 of PR teams are a pain
Summary: you go on the strangest of dates

Prompts


Of course, Michael is late. He shows up to the meeting spot ten minutes after the agreed time, trailing a body guard behind him, a leather jacket thrown over a ripped tee shirt and a snapback barely hiding how messy his hair is.

You greet him with a scoff.

“Is this how you dress for dates? No wonder you’re endlessly single.”

He scowls right back at you.

“Not everyone is as superficial as you.”

“Why couldn’t this whole thing have been with Luke?” You sigh, long-suffering.

“You like Luke?” Michael asks, disbelief mixed with disgust and something else you can’t quite place dripping from his voice.

“At least he dresses well. Where’s your YSL clothes?”

“He’s got a contract with them. It’s not like he chooses the clothes.”

“Right. And of course I’m stuck with the one who’s not important enough to have contracts with designer brands.”

Michael looks like he’s about 0.2 seconds from attacking you, and thinking of the paparazzi due to take pictures any minute now, you send him a disarming smile.

“Anyway love, I think we should get a move on. The restaurant’s this way,” you say brightly, and blinks at you half in horror, half in confusion before following your lead silently.

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Michael is me. I am Michael.