point of view gun

Real Bullets

Pairing: Jensen x Reader
Words:   1211
Requested by Anonymous:  How about being an actress on the show and someone swapping out the fake bullets for real ones and one of the J’s accidentally shooting you like angst then fluff

Warning: injured reader

        You were sitting on Jensen’s lap in his trailer while the two of you waited to be called onto set to film.

          “I really don’t want to do that scene,” Jensen sighed.

          “Why?” you asked, running your fingers through his short hair, “It’s just acting. Not like you’re really shooting me.”

          “Still. I don’t like it. I don’t like that I’ll be pointing a gun at you,” he said, “It doesn’t feel right.”

          “Just get your lines right and it’ll be over before you know it,” you teased him, “No worries.”

          He pulled you closer, “If you say so.”

          You kissed him softly, “I say so. I love you.”

          “I love you too.”

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Dean x Reader

Warnings: Guns, blood, death, the Winchester family quota.

“You killed him.” Dean implied, steady holding the gun. Barrel point blank in your line of view.

There was nothing you could do, not that you would kill Dean even on a bad day. He was the love of your life. Had been for year.

A look of total confusion swept over your features as your chest began to rise and fall at an unsteady rate.

“Sam!” He shouted with anger, causing you to jolt at surprise to his tone. “You killed Sam.” Even then his grip on the gun tightened, turning his knuckles bright white.

“Sam’s dead?” You asked in the most hesitant manner, with a voice quite literally quaking with disbelief and fear.

Your question only seemed to anger Dean more, causing him to cock the gun back and set a bullet into the chamber. His motions stopped your heart. Leaving you so shocked and so afraid, but still you stood before him. Eyes wide and filled with terror as you looked into the man'a face who you had just kissed earlier.

“Crowley told me. You did it, I saw it with my own eyes Y/n. I-” he took a moments pause. “I saw my brothers body. Lying there. Dead.” He couldn’t help but breathe out heavily, almost as heavy as his eyes swelled with tears as did your own.

“What?” You sputtered out, what was he talking about? “I didn’t kill Sam. Dean, I love you.” You did your best to convince him of the truth.

Taking a simple step forward, at the same time, a bullet shot straight into your chest. Leaving you to stop immediately in your tracks and look down at the wound as though this couldn’t have been happening. But Dean didn’t stop there.

With a few swift motions that seemed to be moving in a slower time frame, he unloaded another three bullets. Both to your stomach. No doubt he would’ve emptied the clip.

“Dean!” A goofy voice yelled out behind bright head lights as a figure began to rush dramatically towards the two of you.

“No.” Dean sounded out with such relief yet such distraught.

The gun flew downward from his hand without trouble. His body sped down to the ground to scoop up your head which rested as limp as your body. From behind him, Sam was frantically speaking to police on the phone. Begging for an ambulance, for something. Anything. But you could only focus on the man in front of you.

There was so much pain in his eyes, it reflected the pain you felt from within the wounds. Yet you held no grudge against him. You wished you could find the air to tell him it was okay, that you would’ve done the same thing if you were him, that you understood. But you couldn’t.

Out of bodily reaction, you began to tense up as final flows of blood came from your throats and pushed through your lips, making you whimper with no choice.

Green eyes and an abundance of freckles. It was all you could see. It shined bright, even as you slipped into the darkness.

Wake Up Call

Pairing: Daryl x Reader

Summary: When Carol bombed Terminus and everybody escaped, they noticed one person missing and as much as it hurt, still had to leave to save themselves. In the meantime, Carol found you hiding on top of one of the containers, unable to get down because it was surrounded by walkers

Warnings: (believed) death of reader, a little language, flufffffff

Word Count: 1.4k

Note: thanks @pitrymcbride i literally feel like you’re one of my biggest fans on here and i love you for that!! thank you for requesting! i hope you like it. decided to not really have a near death experience but have daryl think reader died. requests are always OPEN (unless stated otherwise) btw, this has not been proof read so if there’s any mistakes, i’m sorry


Originally posted by riveralwaysknew

Group’s point of view

Terminus was an inflamed mess. Burning walkers were stumbling around the area, the remaining residents trying to fight them off as well as they could. Nobody knew who or what made the tank explode, but the gang was thankful that it did. They’d all made it over the fence and away from the madness. Everybody was panting, some still coughing from the amount of smoke they’d inhaled. Daryl was stood at the very end of the group, back turned to them and gazed fixed onto the fence in hopes of you being just right behind him. Maybe you’d just tripped and nobody noticed and you’d come crawling over the fence in no time. Or maybe you’d just decided to stay back and fight off the walkers without telling anyone. Daryl didn’t want to think of the worst thing that could’ve happened. You could be dead, for God’s sake. He’d already lost so many people. His brother was gone, he had no idea where Carol was or if she was still alive and now you too. You were his rock, even though he would never admit it aloud. 

“Daryl, I think we should go.” Rick said, carefully reaching out for his friend. Daryl didn’t want to have any of this, so he just stepped aside before Rick could touch him and kept glaring at the fence. He knew you. He knew you had to be somewhere safe and alive. You were strong and you wouldn’t go without a fight.  

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Worth the Price, Pricefield fanfic

All around Max, the familiar surroundings of the girls bathroom at Blackwell Academy were slowly coming back into focus. She had made it back from the lighthouse where she had just said her last emotional goodbye to Chloe upon agreeing to go back and sacrifice her for the good of Arcadia Bay.

Just then, Max heard the door open, and then heard Nathan muttering to himself once again like he did a week ago, in Max’s time of mind anyways. Soon, the moment she had come all this way back for would happen. Max’s heart beat faster as she prepared herself for it. She leaned back against the nearby toilet stall wall and breathed in deep and exhaled slowly. She knew what she had to do. And she mentally prepared herself as best as she could for it.

The door to the woman’s bathroom then opened once more and Chloe’s voice could be heard. “I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step ass would say.” Chloe asked Nathan as she scouted the area. A tear formed in Max’s eye as she knew that those would be some of the last words from Chloe that she would ever hear.

The moment was approaching, Chloe was threatening Nathan and pushing him. Nathan then once again pulled his gun out from his pocket and pointed it at Chloe. “You don’t know who the fuck I am, or who you’re messing around with!” Nathan threatened back. “Where’d you get that gun?!” Chloe exclaimed. Nathan moved towards her and pushed her up against the wall. “What are you doing?! Come on! Put that thing down!” Chloe pleaded.

Around the corner stall, Max’s heart beat furiously, she could hear and feel each throb deep within her ears. Sweat glistened across her face and her breathing came out in quick, terrified gasps. This was it. The moment had finally come. She peered around the corner of the stall and waited for that crucial moment.

“Get that gun away from me, psycho!” Chloe yelled as she pushed Nathan away. He stumbled back and a space opened up between Chloe and Nathan. With lightning quick reflexes Max raised her hand up and all of time came to a stand still.

Slowly, Max came out from her hiding place and walked through distorted frozen time towards Chloe and Nathan. When she was beside Chloe, she reached out with her left hand and softly touched Chloe’s cheek, then turned her hand and ran the back of her fingers against Chloe’s soft skin of her cheek a few times. Tears started to stream down Max’s own cheeks now.

“Oh Chloe… I know this isn’t what we agreed on, but I can’t bear to watch you die again. I love you too much for that. Please forgive me for this…” Max said softly to her frozen in time best friend. Max then sighed sadly and ducked under Chloe’s outstretched arms that were held out after pushing Nathan away and placed herself between them and backed up against Chloe, shielding Chloe with her own body for what was about to come.

Max looked up towards the skies, “I know what I have to do to restore time back to the way it was supposed to be. But I won’t do it! You can’t have her!” Max said to whoever or whatever gave her the ability to control time. “I know I abused the powers that I’ve been given, and the terrible outcome of what happened because of it. And I’m truly sorry for that… But Chloe is innocent. She doesn’t deserve to die… But if a life must be given to restore all of time… Then take mine… And spare Chloe's…”

Max then looked down at the gun barrel that was now aimed at her chest as she continued to stand in front of Chloe. She took one more deep terrified breath, accepting her new fate and then dropped her hand, bringing time back to its normal flow.

A single gunshot then echoed through the girls bathroom, and Max was struck in the chest and was knocked back into Chloe. Max cried out in pain. “What the fuck?!” Chloe exclaimed as she caught a stranger who fell against her who wasn’t there a moment ago.

“Max Caulfield?!” Nathan exclaimed as he recognized who had suddenly appeared in front of him. “Max?!” Chloe cried out and looked over Max’s shoulder to see her face. “Chloe…” Max said weakly and in a lot of pain. Nathan was in shock, bewildered he asked, “How the fuck did you-”, a flying fist then reached around the side of Max’s head and Nathan was then punched hard in the side of his head by an enraged Chloe, who screamed in anger just as her blow had landed. Nathan was knocked off balance, fell to the right and his head hit the nearest stall wall and he was knocked out cold. No longer a threat.

Chloe then turned her attention back to Max and she carefully held her from behind by the waist, “Max!” Chloe cried out. Max’s legs then gave out, her body became limp and heavy in Chloe’s arms. Chloe leaned back against the nearby wall, using it to balance herself as she held onto Max. She then slowly slid down the side of the wall, bending her knees, and going into a sitting position, never letting go of Max, who was now between Chloe’s legs.

“No! No, no, no, no, this can’t be!” Chloe said as she began to cry.

David Madsen then came bursting into the bathroom, “What’s going on in here!” He demanded to know, he looked down and he saw Nathan unconscious on the floor and a gun next to him. He then looked over and saw his step daughter sitting on the bathroom floor, holding onto another girl by the waist. This girl had been shot and was bleeding from a wound in her chest. Chloe looked up at David with teary eyes, “We need some help in here! Go get some help! Now!” Chloe begged shrilly.

David then turned and headed out the door to call paramedics and the police. Suddenly, all around Chloe and Max, time began to slow, then came to a stand still. Both girls remained unaffected though. “Whoa! What the fuck?!” Chloe gasped in surprise as she looked around at her distorted surroundings.

“It’s time?” Max asked as she looked around while being held by Chloe. “Time? What do you mean it’s time?” Chloe asked. Max looked at Chloe, “Time is… Giving us a chance to be alone and… say goodbye to each other.” Max replied weakly.

“Goodbye?!” Chloe cried, “No! Not goodbye! You’re going to be fine! You have to be! Just hang in there!”

Chloe then held her hand over Max’s gunshot wound and applied pressure to try and stop the blood oozing from it. Max grimaced in pain, clenching her teeth hard. Chloe could feel Max’s warm blood under her hand. She could also feel Max’s heart beating irregularly. “Max… Why did you do this? Why did you get yourself shot for me?”

“Because… I couldn’t watch you die… Again.” Max answered truthfully.

“Again?! What do you mean again?” Chloe asked in confusion.

Max placed her right hand on top of Chloe’s hand that was clutching her gunshot wound. “Because this… This is what would’ve happened to you instead. I’ve seen it happen before. It’s what was meant to happen.” Max explained.

Chloe shook her head, “I don’t understand! Any of this!” Chloe shouted in frustration.

Suddenly, a bright circular light began to shimmer, glow and expand from a tiny dot to a large circular shape in front of the girls. Instinctively, Max reached out for it with her left hand and, like images on a TV or computer screen, the scene with Nathan pressed up against Chloe with the gun in the bathroom appeared and began to play like a movie. It was as if Max’s memories of this event was playing for Chloe to see from Max’s point of view. “Get that gun away from me, psycho!” Chloe saw her other self plead to Nathan in this vision. Then, she was shot. Chloe, the one holding Max, jumped in surprise as she watched the other version of herself fall to the ground. A bullet hole in her chest. Max hadn’t saved her in this version of events.

“Thank you.” Max said silently to who ever or whatever was allowing time to remain still and to show Chloe what would’ve happened so she could both see and understand.

Chloe looked back down, “Y-you were right, Max. I died… I-I was supposed to die here…” Chloe said with a quivering voice. She then sniffled, furrowed her eyebrows angrily and asked, “Then why?! Why did you take my place if that’s what was meant to happen?!”

“Just watch, you’ll understand soon…” Max then remembered another event; when she and Chloe were holding hands, walking down the train tracks together. Then Max remembered all of the times they hugged and did their best friend handshakes. Finally, she remembered back to the time they were swimming in the Blackwell academy pool together at night, laughing happily and splashing each other. And all while still holding onto Max, Chloe watched silently, with her mouth slightly agape as these memories from Max played before her very eyes. She was in shock and awe, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Max, who’s head was resting on Chloe’s chest, could feel Chloe’s heart beating rapidly.

“Don’t look so sad… I’m never leaving you.” Chloe saw herself say to Max in the pool. Chloe broke down and sobbed. “All these visions, these memories… They’re real?! They actually happened??” Chloe asked Max. Max nodded. “Yes. They’re real. Every single one of them.”

Chloe shook her head in disbelief. “I didn’t know that I could still smile like that… Didn’t know that I could still laugh like that… Didn’t know that I could still… Love… like that?”.

Max looked back at Chloe, “You can, and you did. But you can do so much more than that.” Max then raised her left hand back up, recalling another memory. “Watch. This is why I couldn’t let you die… Why I’m giving my life for you.”

Max then remembered the moment they had their first kiss. “I double dare you, kiss me now!” Chloe saw herself say in this new vision. And she watched her other self and Max kiss. Then she watched Max and her other self hug on the beach and tell each other how much they meant to one another and how they were meant to be together at that moment in time and more.

Finally, She was shown a vision of Max and the other Chloe on the lighthouse cliff tops on the final day with the storm and tornado visible in the background. And Chloe watched herself and Max kiss again. This time longer, more passionately, it was clear that it they were deeply in love with one another. Soon, they moved apart and looked into one another’s eyes, and Chloe heard herself say, “I’ll always love you, Max.”

Chloe cried harder, covering her eyes with her left hand. Hugging Max closer to her body. Max no longer felt any pain coming from her wound so she didn’t cry out in pain this time. “You did it because you love me?!” Chloe asked tearfully.

Max looked back and nodded, placing her left hand on top of Chloe’s right hand that was still clutching her wound. “More than anything in the world, Chloe… More. Than. Anything!”

Max’s body then began to feel numb. The outer most edges of her vision began to darken. Fear crept into Max’s heart, “Chloe! Chloe!” Max cried out. “I’m right here, Max! I’m with you right here!” Chloe reassured her, squeezing her hand comfortingly.

Max and Chloe then interlocked their fingers together. “I-I thought I was ready for this, ready to die… But I’m scared, Chloe! Help me not be.” Max pleaded as she trembled in fear. Chloe held Max tighter, “Tell me what to do!

"Hold me… Stay with me till the very end.” Max requested. Chloe choked on sobs and tears. “Max! If you have powers then use them! Rewind time and go back! Change it back! I don’t want this!” Chloe begged.

Max weakly shook her head, “I can’t, Chloe. Even if I can rewind time, I can’t rewind this wound away. It’s a part of me and I can’t take it back. I’m… I’m going to die, Chloe.

That’s when it hit Max. What if, even after this sacrifice, the storm was still coming? "Chloe, please, you need to listen to me.” Max begged.

“What is it?” Chloe replied.

“In my reality Arcadia Bay was destroyed by a massive tornado that struck on Friday of this week.” And as Max said those words, a vision of the described tornado, viewed through Max’s eyes from the lighthouse clifftop appeared in front of them. “Look for these signs… After I’m gone.” Max instructed.

Chloe got a painful lump in her throat after hearing those words, but she nodded while whimpering.

“Flocks of dead birds… Beached whales… Strange weather patterns.” Images of all these things flashed in front of them like a slideshow. “If you see these signs it means that the storm is still coming. So I need you to make me a promise.” Max pleaded.

“Anything, Max.” Chloe answered tearfully.

“Do whatever you can to convince people to leave town or make for the lighthouse on Friday. Understand?” Max advised, “You save as many people as you can, but you get to the lighthouse where it’s safe, you hear me?”

Chloe nodded as she sniffled, “I will, Max. I’ll be there if it comes. I’ll be where it’s safe. I promise!”

Max felt very sleepy, her breathing started to slow. Her vision ever darkening. It wouldn’t be long now. “Chloe… Please… Kiss me. One… Last… Time.”

Chloe nodded and carefully, she slowly pulled Max towards her, never breaking eye contact. Their soft lips then met, and they kissed. Both girls closed their eyes, embracing the moment. Streams of tears flowed from both girls eyes as they continued to kiss.

Though this was the first time Max kissed this version of Chloe, it felt exactly the same. The kiss was just as warm, just as soft and just as lovingly sweet, and felt just as right. Neither wanted the kiss to end.

What felt like an eternity later, they moved apart, looking deeply into each others eyes. Max smiled and reached up with her left hand and caressed Chloe’s cheek. Chloe smiled back and held her hand on top of Max’s.

Max breathed in and out softly a few times, “Thank you, Chloe… Knowing that you’ll get to live this time… Makes me so happy. This is what I want. I want this…” Max confessed, “I’m not afraid anymore… Chloe… Don’t forget about me…”

Chloe kissed the back of Max’s hand, “I never will, Max. I swear it. I’ll never forget you.”

“I love you, Chloe… Goodbye…”.

Max smiled one last time, slowly closed her eyes and breathed her last breath. Then, she passed away. Her hand falling from Chloe’s face and landing limply at her side. Time then resumed its normal flow. What had felt like a lifetime between Max and Chloe was actually less than two seconds in the real world.

Chloe softly shook Max, “Max? Max?! No… Please, Max… Come back! Come back!” She begged in tears, running a finger across Max’s cheek. Chloe then lowered her head and pressed her forehead softly against the side of Max’s head, closed her eyes and crying harder as her heart continued to break.

David then returned with a officer who happened to be nearby. The officer stepped past both girls and proceeded to handcuff Nathan and secure the gun he had.

As he was doing this, David turned to his stepdaughter and the other girl.

“Chloe! The paramedics are on their-” but he stopped as soon as he saw that the poor girl Chloe was holding onto had passed away.

He was too late. And seeing how hard Chloe was crying, he knew that she must’ve meant something deeply important to his stepdaughter. David then knelt down next to Chloe, and placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

Chloe looked up at David with red teary eyes, but couldn’t manage a word. But she didn’t need to say anything. David knew what she was feeling. As a soldier, he too had seen friends of his die in combat. Even held some as they passed away. Truly, he understood her pain at that very moment.

He began to get choked up too. He couldn’t manage any words either. So he continued to hold his hand on top of Chloe’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth comfortingly and hung his head in sadness for his stepdaughters loss. For once, they shared a special, but tragic moment together.

Chloe looked back down at Max, and softly stroked Max’s soft brown hair as she continued to cry. She then leaned her head in and softly kissed Max on the cheek one last time and then placed her forehead against Max’s head and continued to weep.

And in the days that followed Max’s brave sacrifice, none of the foretold events to be watchful for came to pass. It seems that time was kind in this universe and had accepted Max’s plea, and Arcadia Bay was spared from destruction. At the cost of her own life.

Also, David Madsen had received a letter that was found in Max’s pocket after she was taken away by the paramedics. It told him where to go to find Rachel Ambers body, where the Dark Room was located, and who her killer was. So justice was brought to Chloe and Rachel upon Mr. Jeffersons arrest soon after.

On Friday, Max’s funeral was taking place. She had received a heroes farewell after everyone learned how she had sacrificed herself to save someone else’s life.

The procession from the funeral home to the graveyard was given a police escort from the front, their lights flashing brightly the whole way. Following closely behind by the black hearse, with Max’s coffin in the back.

Max’s mother and father following the hearse in their red jeep and Chloe and her mom and stepfather following in Chloe’s truck. Lastly, were five full school buses of Blackwell academy staff and students wishing to pay their final respects.

When everyone had arrived at the cemetery, it was the Blackwell football team, the Bigfoots, that helped carry Max’s coffin on their shoulders and towards her final resting place. Logan, Zachary, and a few others were among them.

Max’s mom and dad walked closely behind their daughters coffin, holding each other and crying the whole way.

Not far behind them were Chloe, who was wearing a black sleeveless dress, no beanie and black high heels. Her mother, Joyce, in a black dress and hat. And stepdad, David, wearing a black suit. Followed by the long columns of Blackwell academy staff and students. All dressed in black. Amongst them were Warren, Kate, Victoria, Dana, Alyssa, Brooke and many others.

All throughout the sad funeral, Chloe never took her eyes off of Max’s coffin. She still could not believe all that had happened and in her heart, she knew that she could never tell anyone the truth about what really happened. Even though these were Max’s friends and family, she bore this secret grief alone.

After all the prayers and respects had been paid, Chloe stayed long after everyone else had left after Max was put into the ground. Standing silently in front of Max’s grave.

She knelt down next to Max’s headstone and placed her hand on top of it.

“Max… I’ll never be able to repay everything you’ve done for me. You travelled back in time to save my life. You showed me that I can still be happy, and laugh, and smile like I never thought possible again. You even brought closure to my search for Rachel Amber. And most of all, I’m alive when I know I shouldn’t be… I’ll always love you for that.

I miss you so much, Max… But, it does bring me peace, knowing that there are alternate universes out there. Other universes where you’re still alive and well in them. If that’s true, then that must mean that there are alternate universes where Rachel Amber is still alive and maybe even my… Father is still alive? That brings me so much inner peace, Max. Thank you so much.

Maybe… Just maybe, there’s one universe where you and I both got a chance to live and be happy together. I wish it could have been this one, Max…

I’ll honour your sacrifice and live my life the best I can for you. I swear, I’ll even go back to Blackwell Academy and finish my courses, and graduate with honours.

Most of all, I’ll stop fighting with my mom and stepdad and try to become closer with them. Maybe someday we can be a real loving family…

Until the day we meet again, Max… you’ll forever remain in my heart. And I’ll love you till the day I die. I promise.”

The End

Title: The Moon (Part 1.)

Character(s): Negan and Luna Grey (fictional).
Summary: Luna, a shy and timid woman, encounters Negan who is the complete opposite. Negan tries to break her out of her shell, but will it work? It was going to be tough, especially since he reminds Luna of her late husband… And not in a good way.
Word Count: 2,014
Warning: This is based solely off of TV!Negan. I have yet to read Comic!Negan, so the characterization you read here will be inspired through JDM’s acting. I hope you enjoy it regardless!

Originally posted by marythenurse

Luna had dark brown, shoulder-length hair, icy blue eyes that could make a person sympathize for her, and she was tiny. Not only was she tiny, but she was timid. Shy. Quiet. She had always been this way, even before the world ended and the dead began to roam the Earth.

She had been alone for quite some time now. She never really did get along well with others. Many assumed that her introverted nature was her way of thinking that she was better than everyone else, when it was the opposite. Luna never had the self-confidence that many other people had. She never thought she was good enough. Even in the old world.

At first glance, one would guess that she used to be a teacher or an accountant or any job that didn’t require much physical effort. Luna didn’t mind though. She may have been quiet, but she sure had thick skin.

Luna had been scavenging an abandoned grocery store when she heard the sound of an engine approaching. Instantly, she placed her hand on her Glock 22 that was strapped to her hip. She held it with two straight arms, crouching down stealthily.

Don’t kill. Don’t kill. Don’t kill.

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Another point of view of my Sombra gun! All done with dollar store materials!

Made with Instagram
Since the communisation of society would begin at once and gradually involve more and more people, its inevitable violence would be different from what Marx or Rosa Luxemburg could imagine. The proletarians will be able to make the bourgeoisie and the State, i.e. the political props of capitalist economy, utterly useless and ultimately defenceless, by undermining the sources of their power. The bourgeoisie is aware of it: modern States are steeling themselves for “low-intensity operations,” which imply a lot more than police work, and include population and resource control. Of course counter-revolution has never been only military and political, but its social dimension is now a condition of the rest. In 1972, though it dealt mostly with wars in the Third World, Michael Klare’s War Without End: American Planning for the Next Vietnams provided useful insights into the strategy of the big capitalist States preparing for civil war on their own soil. If we considered the problem from a purely material point of view, the State’s superiority would be outstanding: guns against tanks. Our hope resides in a subversion so general and yet so coherent that the State will be confronted by us everywhere, and its energy source depleted.
—  Gilles Dauve, Eclipse and Re-emergence of the Communist Movement


6sterlingskulls and i were discussing shenanigans last night about an AU where Locus and Felix mishandle a gun smuggling op under a flower shop cover

they’re probably not as incompetent as we’d like them to be but the potential for everything to go wrong is amazing

also i’ve never watched boys over flowers i just wanted to make the joke

Locus pls carry your bonsai properly you’re making him unhappy

ps: your move, Sterling. write the thing :P

Speculative theory: Spencer dies.

In the 7x10 promo, Jenna has a gun and Spencer is protecting the group. 

She’s wearing a plain white sweater, which is the number one choice color for TV characters to get shot in. (It’s the best for displaying the blood.) 

To me, this is the big giveaway that Spencer will definitely get shot. It’s a terrible wardrobe choice otherwise, especially considering the nature of this show.

She’s also wearing brown suede boots and blue jeans, like these:

Picture it:

It’s dark.

Jenna’s waving a gun around. Her point of view is blurry.

Shots are fired. Everyone scatters and runs…

Except for Spencer. She’s hit and goes down, bleeding.

Somebody drags her away…

Once its safe, the others return for her, but she’s gone. 

When they get outside, Spencer is there waiting. Her sweater is bloody, but she says the bullet only grazed her. They all leave together.

At the end of the episode, we see “Spencer” burying her dead twin in the woods.

Troian returns to play the impostor for 7B. 

(Marlene would totally do this.)

Also…the ending of Gravity Falls is satisfying purely because it satisfies the emotional arcs it sets up with its characters.

Because I hate to say this but…if the ending were judged purely on how well it wrapped things up from a plot point of view it’s…actually…not…great?

I mean the memory gun and the metal plate in Ford’s head both suffer from a huge case of “it does whatever the writers tell it to do to fit this specific need in this moment.” 

Mabel’s prison bubble is, in a physical sense, fairly easily escaped–Mabel just pops it with a huge pin. 

And people have pointed out that by bringing Stan’s memories back, the writers created an heroic sacrifice, and then took away the sacrifice part.


The technology in GF working in a maybe somewhat contrived way sets up a circumstance through which Ford and Stan can mend their bridges. Stan volunteering to have his mind erased is the culmination of all the build up surrounding Stan’s low self worth and his desire to prove himself as a hero. 

It also satisfies an arc with Ford, by allowing him to appreciate his brother for the first time, and to understand that his concept of what a hero is was faulty all along. This is what prepares Ford for the happy ending he eventually receives. It also answers the question brought up in AToTS–will Ford and Stan ever resolve their differences? 

Mabel’s bubble is escaped quickly when she is ready to escape it. When she wants to face reality and finds the strength within herself to pierce the fantasy. It’s the resolution of her “fear of growing up” arc that had been with us from the beginning and intensely emphasized since the end of AtoTS.  It reaffirms the themes of “growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional” and “life is less scary when the people you love are facing it with you” that have been with us from the start. It prepares her and Dipper for the hopeful “let’s grow up together” ending they get. 

It also answers the concern brought up in AtoTS and enormously emphasized in DaMvtF–will Dipper and Mabel be split apart? There’s development for Dipper as well–he puts his trust in Mabel, deciding he’d rather grow up with her and face the world together than take on the implied isolation of Ford’s apprenticeship.

Stan getting his memory back might ultimately mean he does not lose anything. And if the point of that ending was for him to give something up, that would probably be disappointing. But it wasn’t–as mentioned, the purpose of Stan’s self-sacrifice was to create a climax for character arcs surrounding himself and Ford. Stan’s already given up plenty. 

Mabel bringing Stan’s memories back with her scrapbook, besides being an emotional moment, ties into all the show’s themes surrounding family, loyalty and love. It brings back an object we’ve seen in the background of the show since the very beginning, one that was never emphasized as important, and uses it to save the day. It’s the zenith of Stan’s relationship with both the twins (seen through his relationship with Mabel,) which has developed over the course of the summer from something distant and awkward to something beautiful. And it ties into Mabel’s own arc–she just escaped a supernatural prison bubble through the help and support of her brother, and now she can give that same support to Stan.

These are the important things. These are the arcs that need resolution. With that in mind, it doesn’t really matter that the metal plate in Ford’s head and how it relates to Bill entering his mind makes no flipping sense at all. 

(Because wow it makes no flipping sense at all and I don’t even care the slightest.)

Request: Deadpool x Reader

Authors Notes: Hey so this is my first request so I got kinda carried away haha! But I love writing and I’ll defiantly do more requests if you guys have any!


There was something in the city lights that made the shadows of dark alleyways and cloistered buildings nostalgic. Even during the harsh aftermath of the winter tundra, [name] still found the city in a lapse of its own beauty; broken and riddled with familiar architecture as she passed numerous high rises and liquor stores. That hardly meant she wasn’t well aware of the area she crossed as she let her brown boots tap against light grey sidewalks. If she noticed anything though, it was that people stopped walking the streets at some point when they crossed into the part of town that she lived in. A place of unreportable chaos in the time prior to her actually moving in (that’s what she was lead to believe), the guy she hired to find her an ‘economically affordable’ place said that the crime had dwindled significantly when she was looking into the apartment she currently lived in.

That never stopped the numerous shouts and screams outside her window, which lead to the fire escape, which then lead to the sketchy back alleyway. She bundled in the coat she’d purchased a month ago for the cold winter temperatures, but it was hardly doing anything for her at this point as she trudged on past the winds… Her eyes were focused on the edge of the apartment complex she lived in, only a block away. A solitary shatter was heard from behind her as a glass beer bottle nearly missed her from the roof of the building she was walking by. It spooked her, earning a shrill sound from the female as she made her way towards her apartment quicker. If there was one thing she’d been taught in the whole time she’d been living here it was to NEVER walk home alone… If anything her new boyfriend had already joked about it a few times because she told him she never walked home late… but then again that was a lie seeing as she didn’t want him worrying about her.

[Name] was a fully grown woman with mace and a switch blade in her bag seeing as she knew better than to trust the moral standing of anyone in this city. Walking faster she started to hear footsteps across the street… walking faster she as she heard the steps across the way growing faster as well, she gradually began to walk faster before making it into a sprint, getting her key to the gate/door that was in place as her heart picked up at a thousand seconds per minute. She could only pray silently that it was coincidence as she fumbled with her key, snapping it in and turning the lock, the tumblers turning when she finally unlocked it. A set of hands grasped her shoulders though, pulling her back…. “What’s a cutie doing on the street at this hour, isn’t it past your bed time?” Sighing she turned and lightly hit the young man holding her, “What’s wrong with you Mark!” She spoke as she pulled the door open, him holding it open for her. “I thought you were murderer, psycho path, slash weird solicitor…” As she spoke they walked inside together. Mark was her next door neighbor, very friendly, stayed to himself at times, but nice.

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with solicitors, especially good looking ones…” [Name] rolled her eyes as they made their way upstairs to their designated apartments. “So what are you doing tonight, you don’t have that boyfriend of yours coming over do you?” He asked as she unlocked her door and stepped inside, “Nah, he has work or whatever… I was planning on just sleeping anyway. I have work tomorrow and after today I need the rest.” She yawned, eyes drooping as she was about to say goodnight, back to the other she started making her way inside more. “[Name]…” She barely had time to turn around before an arm was around her neck and she was pushed inside her apartment, door closing behind her. She let out a sudden sound before it became muffled at the fact her neighbor was chocking her. ”M-Mark…” She’d remember the half hour self defense class she had when she was in high school… Don’t let your head back, stay awake, nails, teeth, stay awake, STAY AWAKE… she was struggling to keep focus with air being denied to her. [Name] had easily drowned out the sound of Marks voice as he told her to stop struggling.

He grasped tried walking, taking her towards her bedroom… no. no, no! Her legs wrapped around his as he tripped and with that let her go. “You little bitch!” She ran towards her bedroom, him right behind her. Closing the door behind her his hand got caught before she had the chance to slam the door shut. A string of profanities left his mouth as he banged and kicked the door. The young woman was dazed, lost, eyes darting this way and that as she gathered herself…That’s when she remembered the dagger taped under the desk. Running towards the wooden furniture she quickly ripped the weapon off and made her way towards the window. A loud bang was heard as the hinges started to come undone, she could see his face coming through the cracks as she panicked trying to open the window. Her heart was beating off the charts when the door was about to give and she couldn’t open the window…with a rash decision being made she bashed the glass with the butt of the dagger and cut her self stepping out onto the fire escape and making her way down. From there she was going to run, she saw the street, but as she started running someone grabbed her.

“Mark really picked a good one this time…” That’s when she noticed the other two guys with him, they began to look her over, hands behind her back as Mark made his way down. Her mind was racing and sure enough she was panicking, but she stayed composed as she tried to break away from the other. Mark had to laugh seeing her like this, making his way towards the other he took a good moment to give [Name] a solid punch to the stomach, she coughed, knees buckling as she tried to speak… “M-Mark… what are you doing?”  For the hassle he’d give her he let the other men start to grope her as he spoke. “The last woman that lived in your apartment, she didn’t move to Washington… I had her shipped off to Vietnam. She had a nice mouth on her, but goes to say she wasn’t as pretty as you [Name]… you’ll make a nice toy for a good bidder in maybe like Japan, China, Mexico… doesn’t really matter. But don’t worry about that boyfriend of yours… I’ll tell him you wanted to start over… put her in the car.

With that they grasped [Name] and began stuffing her into a car they’d brought around the corner. She was stuffed into the backseat, screaming, about to get trafficked if she couldn’t think of something soon… the leather seats and heavy scent of the men on either side of her made her uneasy as they pulled her coat off while she struggled to keep it on. They ripped her pants while her legs moved uneasily to keep what clothing she had on on her… That’s when the car began to move and they started driving for a while before one of the guys in the front seat said something. “There’s something in the middle of the road…” It came up quick as Mark swerved past it. The two groping at [Name] having paused. “What the fuck! Who would leave a whole fucking box in the middle of the road like that?!” As soon as it happened he swerved and something landed on the hood of the car. It caused everyone to pull some kind of weapon out on the alert, mostly knives… though it was useless given [Names] point of view.

“What the hell!” A gun easily came into contact with the glass before a single shot was heard, the glass shattering to scatter over the inside of the car along with a lot of blood. A gloved hand came in to undo the door before it opened and the dead body was allowed to roll out, everyone in the car was in a panic, the driver only accelerating to get this new threat off of his car. “Say, what’s a guy have to do to get a ride around here?” The familiar voice crept up as he made his way into the car, Deadpool, Wade Wilson had seated himself where the, now dead body, used to be. “I could always give you a ‘blow’, already got one satisfied customer back there… but I’ll warn you there to die for.” He directed to the guy that had fallen out of the car way back there as his gun pointed at Mark’s crotch. “So funny story… I bet you’ll love it. So a guy comes home t-“ That’s when one of the guys in the back tried to choke Wade by pushing his arms up to reach the other, tough wade easily stopped him with a shot from the other gun he had on hand. “Rude! You really can’t find good henchmen these days there’re all rude.

[Name] could only look at the suit clad hero while she pushed herself away from the other man, still panicking internally. “So like I was saying…” Another shot was quickly fired as he killed the other man near [Name], the gun still pointed at a panicking Mark’s crotch. “I come down to visit my girl, surprise her with an awesome night in, because what girl wouldn’t be dropping panties to spend a night with me, when I see some guy come along….” And just like that he let off a shot and the car swerved violently and Mark cried out. “God! Fuck! Are you fucking kidding me right now! Shit!.. You want the girl-“. The gun was instantly placed at his head. “Pull over.” Soon enough they stopped and Wade had a lot of demands for Mark once they were parked on the side of the road; from drop your pants all the way to ‘lick that guys shoes’. Though eventually he finally killed him, a single shot to the head when mark was trying to apologize, telling his he didn’t know [Name] was dating him. But [Name] knew that wasn’t going to work as soon as they got pulled over… as soon as it was all over Wade was quick to get to her side and help her once all danger was avoided.

His arms around her as she just clung to him. “I told you your neighbor was a tool.” His arms kept her close as he spoke, he wouldn’t say it but he was mad. Not at her, but at her neighbor and the guys who’d taken her. [Name] didn’t say anything as she kept her head down. “… I know.” She knew what he wanted to say, she could feel it just from the way he was holding her. He wanted to say ‘what if I hadn’t been there’, ‘what were you thinking’… and so much more but he settled for something simper. “…I love you.” And with those words she felt a wave pass over her. “I know…”


Spielberg’s opening sequence in Saving Private Ryan captures the graphic, visceral horror of war like few other films:

Shot over four weeks on a $12 million budget, more than 750 extras and fantastic Art Direction from Tom Sanders, helped to recreate the Allies’ initial massacre and victory on Omaha Beach, Normandy, at Curracloe Strand on the east coast of Ireland.

Spielberg and cinematographer Janusz Kaminski shot most of the sequence using handheld cameras to give the scene a realistic documentary feel.   Spielberg has said he captured the sequence as he went along, one step at a time, because that’s the way the Rangers took the beach.  The camera is unblinking. It doesn’t shy away from the hell of the situation.  Many shots were improvised, on the spur of the moment and not storyboarded or planned a month ahead, making the results more chaotic and unpredictable. Speilberg initially wanted to tell the entire story from the Ranger’s point of view but decided to include brief viewpoints from the German machine gun positions to show the audience how easy it was for them to hit their targets.   Inspired by Robert Capa’s photographs of Omaha Beach, Speilberg wanted the camera to vibrate and initially tested a Black & Decker drill taped to a Panaflex before finding kit that could give the same result without the long power cable!   The standard frame rate and shutter angle since the introduction of sound in the 1920s has been 24fps/180 degree shutter, giving us a 48th of a second’s worth of light on each frame. Digital cameras may mimic the spinning shutter effect, but the amount of motion blur captured in a 48th of second is what we as an audience have come to expect from motion pictures.  Kaminski came up with the idea of shooting with the shutter open to 45 degrees for explosion shots, or 90 degrees for running shots, which completely negated any blurring. This intensified the experience so you could see each individual particle flying through the air. Kaminski also peeled the protective coating from the lenses, making them closer to the way they were manufactured in the 1940s, resulting in harsh images that are far from glamorous.   Tests prior to principal photography convinced them to desaturate and drain the colour from the scene, to create that gritty ‘earthy’ grade. But what makes the stunning cinematography work for me, is the phenominal, unrelenting sound design by Gary Rydstrom which pins you down.   I don’t think there is a more gripping, stomach-twisting 25 minutes in cinema.

anonymous asked:

i'm not really sure how to feel about guns and gun control. i know gun control is looked down upon by many communists, and i was wondering what the marxist view point is on gun control?

there are a couple stances on this but the easiest thing to point to is the oft used marx quote where he says

“Under no pretext should arms and ammunition be surrendered; any attempt to disarm the workers must be frustrated, by force if necessary.”

many communists think that an armed uprising wouldn’t be effective against militaries like those of the united states, and some even take it as far as saying that the question of gun control is irrelevant, but i can think of many cases where that isn’t true. a great historical example is the black panthers. they patrolled their streets and protected black neighborhoods with guns in hand. to suggest that we should be neutral in whether or not they should’ve been able to arm themselves is not a neutral position at all. of course, as has been said plenty of times before, a lot of gun control rhetoric misdirects the problems onto poc and the mentally ill, so i think our best option would be to reject gun control in its current form, even if we do agree that some sort of regulation is necessary. 

Using Detail Effectively: Guns Edition

whoever-writes-monsters asked: Hey, I’ve been searching your gun tag and it’s been very helpful, but there’s still one thing that confuses me a little about guns in writing: when actually writing them, how much detail is necessary? Do you just generalise them as handguns, shotguns etc, add more details about the brand and the specs or include any physical description. And do you have any good examples of guns described in fiction writing? Thanks so much for the help

(General thoughts ahead. Perhaps not as organized as they could be. You have been warned.)

Our “gun“ tag is pretty cool, but it’s got Image Blocks in it. Our ”guns“ tag is for posts on guns minus the Image Blocks. I think that would be more serviceable to you.

On to your question!

Well, the amount of detail you need will depend on the scene you’re writing. Sometimes it’s enough to just say something like:

  • The man at the door held a gun. Lan couldn’t stop staring at it. A gun. Why did he have a gun? Who rings people’s doorbells in the early afternoon whilst casually holding a gun? This guy, apparently. Lan marvelled at the surrealness of the scene.

Other times, you might want more detail:

  • His service pistol, a Beretta M9, was in perfect working order. Just the night before, he’d dismantled it and cleaned every component until the black gunmetal caught the light like the gleam in the devil’s eye. So when he took aim at the silhouette on the other side of the tent’s nylon fabric, Clay knew there was nothing but a breath between him and neutralizing the threat.

In the first scene from the examples above, Lan is more concerned with the strangeness of the situation than she is preoccupied with the make and model of the gun the man at her door was holding. Even though the gun is the cause of her distress, it is as an object, taken as a whole. If he’d been holding a knife, Lan might have been just as flummoxed.

In the second scene, Clay clearly values his gun, so taking time to describe it as he brandishes it at the unknown threat makes perfect sense. 

Is the gun important to the scene or the overall story in some way? If not, you probably don’t need an in-depth description. Is the gun important to the character? If not, a detailed description may also be unnecessary. Sometimes a gun is the sum of its sensory experience or its psychological ramifications or its physical moving parts. Sometimes it’s its brand or age or reputation. Sometimes it’s the wood inlay or the personalized engraving or the scuff marks along its barrel. And sometimes a gun is just a gun. It depends on what your story requires.

Bear in mind as well that the kinds of details a character might notice about a gun will change based on how often they’re around guns. A person with less experience might notice basic things like the weight of the gun or the smell of gunpowder and gun oil and metal. A person with a lot of experience might notice more nuanced details about a gun along with the more generalized details.

You will also see variations in description based on the circumstances of the scene (a gun in a war zone and a gun at a suburban kid’s birthday party give off completely different vibes, if you know what I mean) or the point of view character’s feelings about guns, weapons, violence, etc. 

If you’re trying to move along the pacing, however, less description (or selective description, I should say) will help keep your story rolling along while more description will slow it down. That’s a decision you’ve got to make for yourself on a case by case basis.

As for published descriptions of guns, you can find that in lots of Thriller genre novels and military- or law enforcement-related books. Black Hawk Down, a Non-Fiction book about the Battle of Mogadishu in 1993, has got some good gun descriptions, and I know Thriller authors like James Patterson, Lee Child, Ian Fleming, Tom Clancy, and Brad Thor describe guns—often in loving detail—in their books. You might also find descriptions of guns, both real and fantastical, in Science Fiction, Steampunk, True Crime, and Horror. I leave finding those descriptions to you (or our lovely followers, if they’d like to assist). 

More on guns:

More on detail:

Thank you for your question, and I hope this helps!


The no-killing rule - Tim edition

After talking about Batman using guns (and sometimes loosing it a bit), I thought I’d go back on Tim’s point of view, not on guns’ usage but on the “no killing” rule.

It’s actually pretty clear, from the very beginning of Tim’s career as a vigilante.

(Robin miniseries #004)

“- A staff? Hardly a lethal weapon.

- I’m not looking for lethal. (…) I won’t fight murderes by becoming one. I’ve taken a pledge to my mentor and to myself that I won’t kill. Even to save my life.”

(For those who didn’t read it, yep, that’s Shiva and yep, she’s the one who trained Tim with the staff.)

So at the very beginning, he’s very determine to follow this rule.

Arguably more than Bruce, who probably wouldn’t have passed the occasion to learn lethal techniques from Shiva, of all people (even if he wouldn’t have used those techniques to kill). Now, that’s only my opinion.

But then, when directly asked about guns much later on in his Robin run, Tim’s answer is more elaborated.

(Robin #140)

“-(…) don’t discount my marksmanship just because Batman and I don’t use guns. That doesn’t mean we don’t learn everything about them.

-What’s that about, anyway? Guns are effective tools in our line of work. (…)

- (…) Batman and I work outside the law, so we can never appear in court to justify our use of deadly force. So, to reduce the chance of ending up with a corpse on our hands, we avoid those tools which employ deadly force.”

So quick digression on guns usage: Tim at least agrees with Bruce on point 1, which was, he finds it important to train with them.

I’d say he’d also agree on point 3, which is, it’s okay to use guns “when it’s necessary in order to save someone”.

But the usage of guns is dangerous, and Tim doesn’t follow Bruce’s no-killing rule just because it exists, not anymore. He actually thought this through; weighted the options; and decided that the rule was valid.

Whatever the fandom might write about Tim, I don’t think I’ve read anything in either Robin or Red Robin (or even New 52 Teen Titans - let’s not talk about those) that dismiss this statement.

The “to kill or not to kill” isn’t even a question in Tim’s mind :)