point of view gun

anonymous asked:

Your religion is responsible. Blood for blood, fuck Islam.

Saying all Muslims are responsible for Islamic extremism ignores the non-ideological reasons for that violence. Are all Christians responsible for Scott Phillip Roeder’s 2009 murder of Kansas Doctor George Tiller for performing abortions? Roeder said he killed in the name of his Christian religious belief. Are all Jews responsible for Yigal Amir’s 1995 assassination of Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, which Amir said he committed in the name of Orthodox Judaism’s views?

This ignorance is not just unfounded, but it’s also potentially dangerous. Until we really understand extremism and violence, we will never figure out a cure. 

It is not Islam that drives ISIS, nor extreme views of Islam alone that inspire them to go to their deaths, supposedly as martyrs. It is their need to belong to a group that gave them a sense of power to strike back against a world that felt to them like it has its boot on their necks.

It was not being German that led Adolph Hitler (born in Austria) to form the National Socialist German Workers Party and in the name of a national tribe commit some of the most atrocious crimes against humanity the species has ever suffered. It was to belong, and lead, a group that provided the power that as an individual Hitler always felt he lacked.

It was not to be good loyal Americans that Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols identified with anti-government extremist groups when they bombed the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City in 2003, killing 169 (including 19 children) and injuring nearly 700 more. 

It’s not just extremists who do this, of course, and that’s the point. We all identify with this tribe or that (our city/state/nation, gender, race, religion, age group, political or general worldviews, etc.) And while it is fortunately only a few who turn to physical violence to establish their tribal identity, it is this same basic instinct that leads us to demonize others who come from a different nation, or culture, or religion, or point of view. That’s tribal too, and divisive, only without the guns and bombs. There is Us, and there is Them.

That was made especially clear with your statement, “Blood for blood.” Violence begets violence and doesn’t solve anything. Threatening a 22-year-old half-Muslim girl from Texas doesn’t solve anything. It only promotes hatred. The same kind of hatred in the examples listed above. 

Adapted from This Article. Please educate yourself and don’t come back on my blog again. 

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.”

Keep reading

holydissent  asked:

And are there any gun related cases of violence within the country? I'm sure not as high or widespread as usa, but anything, maybe more local, that probably doesn't make it to the international newspapers or media as often/at all

Of course there is gun violence in France, but the main difference is the type of gun violence. It’s nearly impossible for French people to own military weapons, like automatic weapons, so gun violence will mostly stick to hunting guns, which obviously can kill but mostly wounds. There is no frequent cases of mass shootings from the hand of regular citizens, young people… for example, one happens every couple year, it’s definitely not common for us. “Our” mass shootings are in 99% cases terrorists attacks, with illegal weapons they had to buy from foreign blackmarkets. Here, from a French point of view, the gun violence stats in the US are considered like a pandemic problem that needs to be solved. Even our cops don’t own military guns.. 

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.)

2

GUN SMUGGLING FLORIST LOSERS

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

this may be SUPER controversial meta but we were talking last night and

bellamy didn’t choose octavia over clarke in 4x11? 

so, we mostly see that episode from clarke’s point of view. she’s upset. she points a gun at bellamy, talks to niylah, does all of this stuff because she thinks it’s the only way to save the human race. she doesn’t have faith in grounders. she’s lost most hope. and in the end, SHE THINKS this is a her or o decision that bellamy is making, because she thinks he’s choosing octavia to live over their possible survival.

that’s not what bellamy thinks at all. why? because he still has FAITH in octavia. he still has HOPE. he trusts her. he trusts that when he opens those doors, that she will have things under control and the grounders will be able to come to agreeable decision. this is highly different than clarke’s ‘the grounders will never forgive us’ mentality.

bellamy needs both octavia and clarke. he’ll choose octavia, if he has to, but he doesn’t want to. and i don’t think he’ll be in that situation again, but again, he never was. because instead of choosing clarke to live, he chose EVERYONE to live. faith is so important. and his faith in his sister never wavers. 

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…”

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.

BUT.

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.)

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. 

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
10

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.
Young Gun (Carl Grimes Imagine)

AN : This takes place in the future, when Carl is fifteen. (Also, this is in Carl’s point of view).

“They say I’m too good to be such a young gun." 

No fifteen year old should have been as good at killing people as I was. To be fair, it came with a price. Long hours walking, long hours lonely. No one at the camp was my age, and Judith could only speak in fragmented sentences. I’d never fit in with anyone. I just did my work and kept my mouth shut most of the time, often with Judith in my arms. I hadn’t spoken to a kid my age in years. So the day you came stumbling into our camp, you can’t imagine what I felt. You were covered in soot, and if I knew what you’d soon mean to me, I would’ve rushed over to you. But instead I put a hand on my pistol, ready to take you out in case you posed a threat. Everyone else in the camp did the same thing, except for Maggie and my dad.
“Hey!” Maggie cried out to us, just as you’d whimpered, “Please.”

 “She’s just a girl,” Dad said harshly to everyone else, and I took my hand off my gun. He put a hand out and walked towards you slowly, like you were a dog that might bite. I watched you carefully, curiously. 

My dad asked you, “Are you hurt?” And you said, in great pain, “My foot.” You lifted it weakly. It was twisted at an odd angle
. “There was a fire, and I had to struggle to get out—” you choked on your tears. “Please, help me.” My dad prepared to ask you his famous 3 questions. “What’s your name?” He began with, clearly not wanting to throw you off. “Y/N,” you answered with a raw throat. “How many walkers have you killed?” You screwed up your nose rather adorably. “I don’t know. Lots.” You winced in pain as you lost your balance and put weight on your left foot. I stepped forward, and you met my eyes for the first time. Your eyes were a cold blue-gray. I trusted them.
“Here,” I said, offering a hand, “sit.” You took it, and I lowered you onto a log. You smiled your thanks at me. “How many people have you killed, Y/N?” Dad asked, squatting so he was eye level with you.
 “Just one.” You set your jaw.
“Why?” You shuddered. I remember wondering how long you’d been alone. “My oldest sister. I had just gotten out of the fire. She didn’t want to burn to death, and her foot was speared with a piece of glass and her arm was under a burning beam, and she was just screaming for help. She begged me—” Your voice caught, breaking, and I remember wanting to hug you. But I didn’t. I just sat there with you and watched you watch your boots. You met my dad’s eyes. “I shot her through a window in the burning house. I put her out of her misery, and it was the hardest thing I’d ever done.”
 “Are you a good shot?” Dad asked, and I saw your face twist.
“Yes,” you spat. “I’m an excellent shot.” Your sudden hostility took everyone by surprise.
 “If you want, you can stay,” Dad decided, and I felt happy. Finally, I would be able to have a friend. “But I can’t promise safety, or even comfort.”
 You smiled weakly. “Company would be good enough. I can pull my weight, I promise.”
“It’s late,” Dad said, standing up. Everyone else had dispersed, the commotion you caused dying down. “We’ve got tents that we sleep in. You’ll have to share.” Quietly, he said to you, “You’ll have to share with my son, Carl. Everyone else has already doubled up.”
“Alright,” you mumbled, and Dad looked at me for approval. Of course I was nervous, I barely knew you. But I nodded anyways. It wasn’t like we’d had to have done anything intimate. Dad stood up and left to help set up the tents. “I’m Carl,” I said to you. You looked at me, about an inch shorter, and smiled weakly. “I’m Y/N. How old are you, Carl?”
“I’m fifteen.”
“Me too,” you answered, shivering. “Are you cold?” I asked, and you shook again.
“A little bit,” you admitted. I peeled off my jacket and offered it to you. “Oh, no—” I wrapped it around your shoulders despite your protesting. You pursed your lips. “Thanks, Carl.” Around midnight, we crawled into the tent.
 “I’m sorry,” you said as you slipped inside your sleeping bag.
 “Sorry? Why?” I asked.
 “Because you probably hadn’t planned on sharing this with anyone, let alone a girl you barely know.”
“It’s alright. I’m glad you found us.” You blushed.
“What do you do around here?” You asked, blinking up at me in the dim light from the lantern as I settled into my own sleeping bag.
 “Fight. Walk. Cook. Take care of my baby sister. Shoot. Swear. Talk to myself. It gets a little lonely,” I admitted.
“Well, you’ve got me now,” you said. “We can be friends. I’ll lighten your work load, and we can swear at each other instead of at ourselves.” We laughed. It had been so incredibly long since I’d laughed with anyone.
 “I’m sorry about your sister,” I said, when the mood had changed and you looked a little sleepy.
 “Me too.” You yawned. “But everyone’s lost something now, huh?”
“My mom died. I’ve almost lost my dad more times than I can count. You’re right.”
 “I never thought that at age 15 I’d have killed anyone,” you said, and it sounded like you were disgusted with yourself.
 “We’re too young to be such young guns,” I agreed. “I guess that’s just the way it is. But, the way it is sucks, because this isn’t what I wanted.” I realized you were battling tears. “I’ve lost everybody I’ve ever known. My entire family, all my friends. All I ever wanted was to grow up and fall in love, be surrounded by happiness. But now I’m growing up and constantly just trying to survive, surrounded by necros.”
 “Necros?” I asked quizzically.
 “The zombies. Necro is Greek for death,” you muttered.
“Oh,” I said. “You could still do that, you know,” I offered. “Grow up. Fall in love. Be happy.”
“Yeah?” You sounded like you didn’t believe me, but you really, really wanted to.
“Yeah.”
“Thanks, Carl. Goodnight.”
 I smirked. “Goodnight.”

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!

-C

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 :)