own guns

anonymous asked:

Prompt: The FAHC and Fakehaus end up planning the same exact heist. Same building, same day, same time

Thank you so, so, so much anon for including Fakehaus in this. I’ve been wanting to write a Fakehaus story for so long, but I couldn’t decide on a plot. I really hope you enjoy this:

Monday

2:37 PM

Fleeca Bank

Two weeks, three days, six hours, and fifty-seven (no fifty-eight) minutes of planning went into this heist. Geoff slept a grand total of fifteen hours during that time, perfecting every single detail, making sure his crew had the best chance of making it out of this heist with their lives. Literal blood, sweat, and tears went into this job, even a little bit of drool when he passed out on the bank schematics. So much planning, so much time, so much coffee, and here he is, standing on the roof of the bank at gun point, his own gun pointed right back at Bruce Greene.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

What were the goddamn odds that his crew and Fakehaus would try to rob the exact same bank on the exact same day at the exact same time? It’s not really likely, and Geoff would have suggested a mole had he not trusted his crew implicitly.

“Rob another bank,” Geoff yells at him, gesturing wildly with his gun. “Any goddamn bank! Fuck, go to Los Venturas if you have to! This one is ours!”

“Fuck you, we got here first,” Bruce shouts back.

“Well, we’re not leaving!”

“We’re not leaving either!”

“Nobody likes a stubborn asshole!”

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“Guys, can we hurry this up? Cops are on their way,” Michael calls from across the rooftop, the rest of Fake AH and Fakehaus standing behind him, the unmistakable sound of sirens wailing in the distance.

Bruce sighs heavily, lowering his gun, and grumbles, “This isn’t over, Ramsey.”

“You’re fucking right it’s not,” Geoff agrees, stashing his gun inside his suit jacket pocket. “Let’s go,” he calls to his crew and Bruce does the same, following him towards the ladder on the side of the bank leading down onto the street.

Once on the ground, the two crews split up, barely avoiding a confrontation with Los Santos’ finest.


Friday

11:38 AM

Rockford Plaza

Bruce will be the first to admit, his crew doesn’t exactly plan their heists. They generally have a vague idea of what job they want to do, Lawrence gets a hold of some schematics so they have enough knowledge of the location, and they assign jobs on the way. Some may call them impulsive, others stupid, but it’s worked for them so far so who is he to argue.

He’s not counting on Fake AH showing up at the jewelry store, but there they are, parked right outside, getting ready to come inside. Bruce backs away from the window, turning to face Adam and James, and says, “Grab as much as you can. We gotta move.”

“Why?” Adam asks curiously as James crosses the room to look out the window through the blinds Bruce had lowered when they first walked into the store, swearing under his breath.

“Fake AH,” James replies before Bruce can, letting the blinds snap back into place.

“Fuck.”

“Exactly,” Bruce says and the three of them begin shoving diamonds and jewelry into the sacks they had brought with them.

Thirty seconds later, Bruce is saluting the store clerk as he and his boys duck out the back, narrowly missing FAH’s entrance, but before the door closes behind Bruce he hears Geoff yell, “Not fucking again!”


Sunday

12:30 PM

Bean Machine

Geoff looks up from his phone when he hears the door open, watching as Bruce walks across the room. He sits down across from him, eyeing him warily. “Truce?”

“Truce,” Geoff concedes after a brief pause, putting his phone away. He leans back in his chair, studying Bruce for a long moment, before asking, “Can we agree that something needs to be done?”

“We could,” Bruce replies slowly, cautiously. “Depends on what that something is.”

Geoff leans forward, steepling his fingers under his chin. “Team up?”

“Team up?” Bruce repeats, eyebrows shooting up into his hair line. He snorts when Geoff nods, frowning. “I’m sure that’ll go over nicely.”

“Please, if you don’t think our crews aren’t secretly friends behind our backs you’re as dumb as you look.” Geoff shrugs casually, gesturing around him. “What’s a little team up gonna hurt?”

“Who’s to say you aren’t gonna betray us?”

“Who’s to say you won’t betray us?” Geoff retorts and Bruce huffs, but nods, clearly agreeing with Geoff’s assessment. “C’mon, aren’t you getting tired of not finishing a job because we keep showing up? I know I sure fucking am.”

Bruce chews over Geoff’s argument for a long moment before nodding. “Alright, but one condition. Even split on whatever we get.” He holds out his hand, waiting patiently for Geoff’s answer.

After a short pause, Geoff sighs, shaking Bruce’s hand. “Alright, asshole. You got a deal.”

“Good, because I have a job in mind…”

  • burr: after the war i went back to new york
  • hamilton: damn thats what i did too, how can i make it sound cooler???
  • hamilton: A-AFTER the war i went bACK to nEW York
7

Chicago police shoot and kill Joshua Beal leading to clash between BLM activists and pro-police protesters

  • Joshua Beal, 25, was in Chicago on Saturday for a funeral for his young cousin who died recently due to gun violence. 
  • Beal was driving in the funeral procession of vehicles when he, a firefighter and 2 plainclothes police officers got into a traffic dispute. 
  • A firefighter’s insistence that funeral vehicles were blocking an emergency fire lane and causing delays sparked an initial argument
  • Ultimately, one of the police sergeant fatally shot Beal
  • Chicago police spokesman Anthony Guglielmi said Beal had a gun and refused to drop it.
  • Beal’s family said that, not only did he legally own the gun, he did not fire at the officer or firefighter. 
  • She said the dispute was sparked by plainclothes police officers who cut off her daughter’s vehicle from the procession and pointed a gun at her daughter, without identifying themselves as officers.

Hours later local Black Lives Matter activists came out to support Beals’s family. Pro-police protesters in the area responded by threatening Beal’s family and activists with violence. Video and witness accounts reveal things got really ugly and racist.

Maybe I should clarify something: my experience with Neo-Nazis is not, in fact, limited to the internet.

I happen to have been raised around several white men and women who spent a good chunk of their adult lives in prison. Many of them joined white supremacist gangs during this time. They raised their kids -my friends at that time- to be white supremacists. They had swastikas hanging in their living rooms and would talk openly about beating up or killing racial minorities (but ofc they said slurs instead). I didnt say anything at the the because I was 11-13 years old and didn’t really know any better; and these men scared me. This is a meth town in Texas, where it’s expected everyone owns a gun and is ready to use it- I once saw one of them beat the shit out of a 16yo and shove a shotgun in his face.

So that’s what I think when I think “Neo-Nazis”, not these “alt right” pussies. So I know that they -and their kids- were still capable of spending time with nonwhite people and pretending to see them as humans, and then talk about how “the South would rise again” and they would “own them n*****s” and other shit I don’t care to remember.

And let me tell you: no amount of calm, rational discussion will sway these people. Ever. If you were to challenge their views they would eventually resort to violence to shut you up; if you tried to “rise above” all that would happen is they’d laugh you down and call you a pussy and continue believing, speaking, and yes, acting on their beliefs.

When I say “peaceful resistance won’t stop Neo-Nazis” it’s not just a philosophy I read in some book. It’s my lived experience.

A super-powered version of the FAHC is an awful, unstoppable thing. Powered humans are rare, sure, but not unheard of; the Fake’s aren’t the only group out there defying reality in broad daylight. What makes them so remarkable, so formidable and distressingly hard to combat, is the way they use those powers. The way each member has taken their gift and twisted it, pulled and torn and stretched it to unforeseen territory, used their powers in ways no one else has even dreamed. Ways most could only imagine in their worst nightmares.

Ryan might be the most obvious example, the clearest illustration of the perversion of abilities, power turned on its head and used against its intention. He’s inspired them all, one way or another, to push their powers to the limits, into shapes they don’t belong in, powerful and strange and noticeably tarnished. On anyone else Ryan’s gift would be one of healing, of hope and restoration, empathetic and inherently altruistic. Its not a power most would associate with a life of crime, outside perhaps a medic, definitely not one most would pick for a mercenary, for the infamously deadly Vagabond. Ryan though, he’s never been one to let a little thing like reason set him back, never felt constrained by expectation, and he wasn’t about to let his powers derail his goals. Ryan has taken the ability to heal and broken it down into stages, approached inexplicable magic like a scientist, methodically identifying how to extract the exact elements he was after. He has the power to heal, yes, but what can be healed may also decay, that which can be stitched back together may just as easily be disassembled; it is no more difficult to displace blood than it is to correctly route it. With a touch Ryan can stop hearts, can rend tissue and implode organs. He can push natural reactions into overdrive, can encourage minor ailments into unstoppable disease, convince various systems to shut down without exposure to extreme circumstance. The only limit is Ryan’s own bountiful creativity, and while it might not be what people expect from the Vagabond he wouldn’t swap his abilities for anything.

Jeremy can change his density at will. Becoming immensely dense has some obvious uses in their world; bullets literally bouncing off his skin and fists that can shatter bones with a single punch, but becoming unnaturally light has just as many applications. Jeremy can change his weight mid-jump to achieve inhuman distance, can fall from great heights without a parachute, can climb sheer walls and hold his entire body up on the tip of a finger. There is no weight Jeremy cannot lift, no wall or door that can keep him out, let alone cuffs or bars to contain him. If Jeremy does not want to move there is physically no way to make him, and if he sets his sights on destroying something little can be done to stop him.

Geoff can communicate telepathically. This comes in handy when getting a hold of his crew, so long as they are within his range he can speak to them comms or no, but they are not the only ones he can speak to. All it takes is some connection, long term emotional links allow for greater distance but as long as Geoff is looking at someone he can get into their mind. Can sneer at police officers, whisper threats to rivals, force unsuspecting strangers to have the most peculiar thoughts and terrify anyone who tries to stand in his way. While Geoff can only really scrape through the top level of someones mind, more emotion and direct thoughts than any deep secrets, it is no great difficulty to convince people that he sees a lot more. Let them feel him poking around, quote a few stray thoughts back at them and suddenly not only do his victims believe he sees all but they are much more likely to think loudly about the very things they hope he doesn’t notice. Geoff can push images as easily as word, useful when sharing a story but even more so as a form of torture; he can fill minds with his darkest thoughts, plague dreams with images from his nastiest nightmares, provide a personalised hell that is impossible to escape from.

Michael controls heat. It’s a power people tend to fear, think it synonymous with mastery over fire, imagine sparking fingers and raging infernos. Which, to be fair, isn’t wholly inaccurate, but is hardly the extent of Michael’s power. He can create fire sure, can raise the temperature to extremes in pinpointed locations to ignite a room, but he doesn’t need to. Michael can press heat straight into a body, can warm someone up or cook them from the inside out, can burn slowly or kill in an instant. His powers extend to objects too, he can melt metals, boil water, absorb and deflect heat, and set off explosives. While people don’t associate it with him the way the do fiery rage, what can go up can of course also go down. Michael can drop the temperature, can produce dangerous frost and sharp ice shards, freeze someone in water and induce frostbite with a simple touch. Michael is completely unbothered by extreme temperatures, can render himself undetectable on thermal imaging cameras and change the temperature of objects so suddenly they shatter. Even those who flee aren’t safe; careening into danger as roads are  suddenly coated in black ice or bubble and melt beneath flaming tires.

Ray can multiply himself, a series of duplicates capable of drawing fire and completing simple tasks. They were once mere mindless echoes of his actual self, near translucent and noticeably different if you looked closely enough, quickly giving birth to the term Ghost Ray when describing them. They didn’t stay that way though, Ray quietly practising and practising until they not only solidified but he could split his conciousness between them, could act as all bodies simultaneously and be in half a dozen places at once. It’s disconcerting, the way they all look real now. The way they all are Ray now, will fade away like they were never there when Ray lets them go, or when they die, but until then he can be in any and all of them at once. It bears thinking about, considering some die. Considering one stays. Considering the way Ray doesn’t like to talk about it, practises late at night and sends his selves off on private missions, laughs and deflects and fades away.

Jack can manipulate the wind; her jets are always boosted and her cars caught and righted before they can ever spin out, while any who pursue her find themselves shoved off the roads. She can deflect bullets, catch plummeting bodies and stir up various weather phenomena. As though this was not enough Jack’s power over the air allows her to create small vacuums, granting her the ability to suck oxygen from a room. To steal it right out of lungs, suffocating her opponents without lifting a finger to touch them. Alone she is more than dangerous, but Jack has always worked best with others. Her powers are particularly effective when combined with Michael or Jeremy; catching Jeremy up and hurling him like a canon ball and taking ice or flame and whirling them into deadly tornadoes. She can, just as effectively, force them all to calm down when things start getting out of hand; wind separating fights, extinguishing fires, airless pockets keeping anyone from storming away in a huff, and being sudden drenched by rain provides a wholly undignified end to any petty squabbles.

Gavin’s power is all about luck. It’s not the most exciting power at first glance; he can see probabilities, split-second calculations that manifest in inexplicable feelings, knowing just when to duck, when to take a detour, when to blow off a meeting and stay home instead. It’s not a power most people would associate with violent crime, rather imagine lotto winnings and effortless celebrity, but most people aren’t Gavin. It was simple intuition at first; shoot now, trust him, buy the ticket, check your phone. But Gavin, being Gavin, pressed for more. Worked out how to manipulate his own luck instead of relying on chance, concentrating on what he wants so his powers bend around him, gift evolving from simple suggestions into something else all together. When Gavin assures himself that all he needs in the world is to shoot his way out of a situation there is no way he will be unlucky enough have a gun run empty, when he needs to make a purchase he will never have the misfortune of running out of money, when he settles himself as the frontman of the FAHC none will be lucky enough to resist his charms. Now that he knows how to push, the limits of Gavin’s power are completely unknown – the least visibly impressive and yet the possibilities are as astounding as they are impossible. He needed a worthy crew, so he found one; they desired power, so they got it; it would be unlucky to die, so they don’t.

She got me praying all hours of the night, say she want my heart, She pulling me to the river, drawing me with her siren's call, Done gave her my heart but now she wants my soul, Well I already sold it to the man in red, "Fell in love with your charm," but its a curse; cos am dead, Girl you're not who you say, bad girl they say you are Innocence isn't where am at, wear your crucifix bae Don't make me out all serious bonnie, slave to this bad religion, Unrequited love, praying at my shrine, cos I don't have a heart Like a dead man walking, I lay at your side, Make sure you're alright in my world, atleast that for you girl,

I gave her my heart but she wanted my soul

2

12th Day, Month of Songs

I finally come to realize it ain’t enough just to have a tattoo. A tattoo is nothing but a pretty picture put in your skin. That’s all.

To my fellow LGBT+ Americans

I know that many of you don’t feel physically safe in the wake of this election. Some of you are fearing government actions taken against the LGBT community; others are fearing that individuals supporting Trump will feel freer to perpetrate violence against LGBT people.

I’d like to offer you a solution. In most states, if you are old enough, you can conceal carry a handgun on your person. The laws and requirements vary state-by-state, but suffice to say, most American citizens have legal access to firearms with a license.

The Republican Party is not interested in restricting gun ownership rights. It would be wise to take advantage of the fact that we have another four years during which we may exercise this right.

The benefit is twofold:

1. Owning a gun gives you a chance to protect yourself from the government should it become oppressive and tyrannical and

2. Owning a gun provides to you the ability to defend yourself from anyone who tries to do you harm. As many of you are concerned that hate-motivated crimes will increasingly target LGBT people in light of the new political atmosphere, it is very logical to give yourself a way to protect your life.


If you would prefer to walk around feeling vulnerable, that is your prerogative too. But it is my hope that, if nothing else, the fear-mongering liberal media that has convinced so many of you that Trump and the Republican Party consists of violent, racist, homophobic savages has also managed to bring you full circle into understanding why our Second Amendment is so fundamentally important.

Stay safe out there, and happy CC’ing.

Rick has no portal gun

In the finale of Season 2, Rick self-destructs his own portal gun to prevent the Galactic Federation from getting their hands on it

This means in the beginning of Season 3, Rick won’t have his portal gun.
That means:

  • If an adventure goes off the rail, they can’t bail in the middle
  • If they fuck up, they can’t escape to another universe
  • If they end up in a sticky situation, they’re gonna have to solve their way out of it

It means there’s no longer an easy way out.

4

“I will suffer no more.”

A mix of things I love: summer, beaches and Lance ☆

4

don’t play with alien flowers they might have fashion sense

9

→ Best of Negan in 7x04 ‘Service’ “You know, Rick, this whole thing reminds me that you have a lot of guns. There’s all the guns you took from my outpost when you wasted all my people with a shit-ton of your own guns, and I’m bettin’ there’s even more, which adds up to an absolute ass-load of guns, and as this little emotional outburst just made crystal clear… I can’t allow that. They’re all mine now.”