#Glock 12

[devileaterjaek]

HALF-LIFE

[alex-iltempo]

💙💙

[theocrabalar]

Guns we never got to use in Metal Gear Solid 2

So, instead of gushing over how amazing MGS2 is, let's get down to brass tacks and immediately nerd out over what we didn't get. First off, let's start at the beginning. Olga Gurlukovich, the woman who's the sole reason I start making monkey noises when I see a woman in super baggy pants with suspenders hanging down. She carries a PSS pistol;

The PSS is a silent semi-automatic pistol, this pistol gets tossed overboard before the player can get a chance to use it. If in use by the Gurlukovich mercenaries, we could imagine it would be a pistol with very scarce ammo, but also highly effective, being semi-auto. Probably considered a lethal option to the XM9.

Next up, we have the NRS2. No good in-game picture available, so a picture of the real thing will do;

This highly unusual knife gun, which is fired with the blade pointed towards yourself. For gameplay, this could probably be used for focus on close quarters fighting, but with a possibility of shooting at something in the distance without needing to swap weapons. It would certainly be an interesting option that could make gameplay varied.

Next up, the Colt Single Action Army revolver.

"This is the greatest handgun ever made. The Colt Single Action Army. Six bullets. More than enough to kill anything that moves." It's clear that MGS3 figured out, holy shit, this gun is cool and we need to let the player use it. Especially, with how they added gameplay features to it, they decided to give the gun the ability to ricochet bullets so you can trickshot your way through Tselinogorsk. The same mindset in MGS2 could have made for some really interesting choices considering all the fancy indoor areas and hallways. There's also no proper magnum handgun for the player in MGS2, so if you want a handgun that can blast away common enemies in a single shot to the chest, this could have been it.

Sergei Gurlukovich himself pulls a Makarov on Scott Dolph during the tanker chapter. This would been a basic sidearm for the mercenaries and is understandably cut, it's a gun that it's difficult to make exciting for the player as it would performed the same as the USP, but lower capacity and no laser and no silencer. Then again, it could have been added purely for variety's sake. Which is always good to make something feel vast and a real universe.

"Laugh and grow fat" This one would be interesting in-game for the player. Provided it would be somewhat controllable for skilled players, and sharing ammo with the USP, it could be a hog for churning through your ammo and low range, but if used up closed, you could definitely do some solid bursts of damage. What magazine the gun would have, would definitely help decide if you could bursts a few enemies before reloading, or needing to reloading between every enemy.

This is another special one. It's already very special that a russian mercenary group would use a western shotgun such as the SPAS-12. It also features a combination pump and semi-automatic mechanism. This could in theory allow the player to change the firerate. Who knows for what purpose, there could be some video game logic like how they can only use the really powerful ammunition with a pump-action, and have the less damaging ammo be spammable with the semi-automatic mechanism. Or, they could skip that and make the shotgun be only pump or only semi, and then focus on how it works in that way. It definitely opens up a world of weird gameplay options.

Here's a weird one, a rail gun. MGS2 is a stealth game. I realize that, and I really like it. But it really suffers in the department of being able to do things at a distance outside of set pieces set up for sniping. It would definitely be a New Game Plus type of gun, maybe given out for playing through the game while helping or tranq'ing birds, not killing them. It would definitely be a great gun for taking out bosses. It was later implemented in Peace Walker, but required quite the team effort to use it efficiently. Clearly, the developers also loved this magnificent piece of art and weaponry in game.

Here's another fun one. Assuming it would be a counter to the M4 later available in-game, the AN94, could possibly given the hyper-burst option, making it fire two rounds per trigger press in an insane fire rate. Looking at how the gun has a light or laser mounted onto it's front gas port/gas block, it looks really close to be able to be used by the player already.

Here's a gun that is really known for being cut content. The French FAMAS. How it made it's way to the tanker or plant would be difficult to imagine considering it was supposed to be only for the genome soldiers in Alaska in MGS1. It would occupy the same purpose as the AKS74u and the M4 as well, so it wouldn't add anything new to the player, but it would feel familiar for returning MGS1 players. While not correct, the gun could have had a three round burst to differentiate it, like how it does in Counter-Strike 1.6 which is what I really know it from, form these days.

The FN P90. What a wonderful PDW. Again, another gun that's understandable that we don't have access to, as it wouldn't contribute much, but would also clutter an already weird to navigate inventory. It's equipped with the original old red dot sight, so in first person view, that would actually be very different for regular players of first person shooters with iron sights from these days.

Here's a really weird one, the SPP-1M Underwater pistol. Wait what? So in the original design of MGS2, there was an even greater focus on the underwater parts of the gameplay, even more fighting. Which explains why someone would suggest adding an pistol focused on underwater fighting. Probably also related to the cut Dead Cell member who went by the name "Chinaman" who was an olympic level swimmer, and if Vamp's boss fight wasn't annoying enough, I can totally see the need for a gun in that section. There is leftover code in the game that suggest this got quite far in development for player use, the gun itself as far as I know, don't have a model in-game.

And here for the last firearm that should/could have been available to the player. The M203 grenade launcher. It's very clearly shown off in several cutscenes, being used by both the Navy Seals when confronting Fortune, as well as Snake Plissken;

How this would be utilized in-game would be interesting. Could definitely be a very viable boss-encounter weapon with it's full-auto capability from the M4, and then being able to somehow quickly switch over to using the grenade launcher. So in conclusion, many of this firearms were considered, but when we think about it, we can also clearly understand why much of it was cut, so there would be less work to do on bland equipment, so the developers could rather focus and shine up all the equipment that is actually interesting gameplay wise.

Most images blatantly stolen/copied from IMFDB.org, MetalGear.fandom.com and Wikipedia.

[hotboxthesupra]

timo glock gotta be the greatest driver name of all time…it’s just so fun to say

[kramlabs]

No matter what Tucker Carlson* told Joe Rogan, everything can be explained as advanced technology and black projects and can find its roots in post WW2 Germany.

*is Tucker playing a role again, this time for the disclosure narrative?

[firearms-in-film]

A Hard Day (South Korea, 2014)

Peace Breaker (China, 2017)

A Hard Day (Philippines, 2021)

Restless (France, 2022)

Hard Days (Japan, 2023)

[qcomicsy]

Phrases I bet were said on the Wayne Manor without context Part ll

Tim: You know, everytime we have to say "technically it's not murder" it doesn't sound as great as we hope it so.

-------------

Dick, on the living room:

Duke, first time alone with him: So... Discowing, huh.

Dick: Alright-

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Alfred, very tired: I suppose I shouldn't ask about the 6'0 orange lady flying of your window this morning?

17 year old Dick Grayson: I'd really hope you not.

--------------

Steph: I'm JUST SAYING, that IF "hypothetically" WE both showed up on patrol wearing my cape, hood down and then lifted up the hood just to show matching RedHood™ helmets behind it we could both have the joy to see penguin's henchmen pissing on their pants.

Jason putting his book down: I'm listening.

----------

Dick: Just- Just be nice about it, for once in your life okay?

Bruce: Hn. (lying)

-----------

Bruce: I'd like to remind all of you that Diana has international political immunity.

Dick: The fuck you mean by that????

Bruce: No reason. Just saying. In case we all forgot.

------------

Alfred: We are all aware that Master Bruce isn't fond of violence *loads glock*.

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Bruce: Be nice to your brother

Jason: I'm not even nice to you.

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Jason, 10 years old talking about Dick to his school friend: Yeah, he just comes here, eat all our food, screams at Bruce for 45 minutes and goes away.

--------------

Tim, 15 years old, also talking about Dick to his school friend: He just comes here-

---------------

Bruce, very, very tired: So... a boat.

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Tim: Do it.

Jason, cleaning his gun: Dude what the fuck.

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Tim, 7 nights awake in a roll: Do you think if I just scream loud enough Clark will come here and put me out of my misery.

Dick as Batman, 12 nights awake in a roll: He won't.

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Dick putting Batman's suit: He couldn't at least had the DECENCY of cleaning- muffled cursing noises*

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Harley Quinn at 3 am: I'll pay you fifty bucks if you pretend you never saw me here

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Dick, 17 years old: The fuck are you doing here.

Talia, with a shitty ass grin showing the engagement ring on her finger: I live here.

Dick:

Bruce: Listen-

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 3: The Ones Who Died Without A Name]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Holiday” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

The Tahoe runs out of gas just west of Ashland, Ohio, coasting to a stop along the shoulder of State Route 96, sapphire skies and cotton ball cumulus clouds, emerald fields of Swiss chard and beets slowly being nibbled bare by deer and rabbits, the inheritors of an abandoned earth.

“Well, that’s it,” Baela says, offhand, blasé, as if it’s not a disaster. You’ve sorted this out, it didn’t take long: there are people who aren’t allowed to panic. If they do, it’ll be like a dam crumbling, and the flood will burst through to drown everything, like when Noah’s wrathful God decided it was time for the world to start over. Baela can’t panic. Aemond can’t panic. And maybe you can’t either. Rio gives you a skeptical look—Are we really about to walk to Oregon?—and you slap his thigh encouragingly as you climb over him and out of the Tahoe.

“Everyone gets a gun,” Aemond says as he starts distributing them: Rugers for Rhaena, Baela, and Helaena (although she winces as she obediently takes the revolver, immediately tucking it away into her burlap messenger bag), .22s for Daeron and Aegon, Remington 12 gauges for Jace and Rio, who gives you his M9. You’re better with it anyway. Aemond’s Glock 20 is in a handmade leather holster he took from the cellar of the house back in Distant, Pennsylvania. Luke, still a potential zombie, will not be armed; but Aemond slings the strap of a .22 over his own shoulder for in case Luke recovers.

“Safeties on, right kids?” Rio goes down the line checking everyone’s gun. “Remember what we practiced, use your sights, don’t go pointing the barrel at anyone unless you’re okay with blowing a hole in them. The noise is risky, but getting bit is worse, so use your best judgment.”

“I don’t have any of that,” Aegon says, grinning.

Rio grabs Aegon’s sunburned face roughly and smacks a kiss onto his cheek. “I know, Honey Bun. Don’t you worry. Stick close and I’ll do your thinking for you.”

You spy it up the road a ways on the right, half-obscured by tree limbs: a white and orange sign, a logo shaped like a diamond. “Oh my God. It’s a Stewart’s.”

“A what?” Aemond asks, squinting at the sign. It’s late afternoon, and soon the sun will be sinking into the west like a drowning man through deep water, and like all prey animals you are restless without the promise of shelter.

“A Stewart’s Root Beer. They used to sell hot dogs and barbeque and all these neat soda flavors like key lime and black cherry. We had one where I grew up. That was the fancy place. You knew it was a good day if you ended up at Stewart’s for dinner.”

Aemond considers you, that subtle ceaseless curiosity. “We can stay the night there.”

“I thought we didn’t want to waste any daylight, Aemond,” Jace jabs as he helps Luke—miserable but presently human—out of the Tahoe. “That’s what you said when I wanted to check out that Barnes & Noble, Aemond.”

“What the hell do you need books for?” Aegon says. He’s grabbing clear CD cases out of the center console of the Tahoe. He pounds on the eject button and then punches the CD player when he realizes he won’t be getting that particular disk back. “Oh, you bitch! I had Shakira on there!”

“I would like to preserve my ability to read at higher than a fifth-grade level. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I was going to work for Sullivan & Cromwell, you know.”

“And now you’re a jobless loser just like me. Isn’t life funny?”

“You can’t be serious,” Baela says to Aegon, his arms full of CD cases. “You’re going to carry all those to California? You don’t even have a way to listen to them.”

“I’m not leaving my mixtapes.” Aegon shoves them into a U.S. Army backpack he found at Fort Indiantown Gap and then hoists it onto his back with a grunt.

Aemond tells Jace: “We only have a few hours until the sun starts going down. We don’t know what’s up ahead. We should take advantage of a safe place to sleep if it’s available. Getting caught out in the open after dark is the worst case scenario.”

“Whatever, Aemond. It’s your call. Everything is your fucking call.” Then Jace plods out into a field of rabbit-ravaged Swiss chard to relieve himself semi-privately, his back to the Tahoe.

“Hey, Chips Ahoy,” Aegon says, taking the folded-up map out of the pocket of his shorts, mint green plaid. “Want to tell me if there are any nuclear power plants near our route so we can steer clear of them and not get irradiated?”

“Uh, well, I don’t exactly have them all memorized…” You examine the map, hoping the black-ink cities will jog your memory, trivia you catalogued years ago, snippets you’ve heard from your fellow seamen. “Perry’s in Cleveland. We won’t be anywhere near that one. Fermi is up by Detroit.” You hesitate as your fingertips skate past Chicago. “Braidwood, LaSalle, and Byron are someplace between Chicago and Peoria, but I’m not sure where. And then there are a few others around the border of Illinois and Iowa. West of that, I don’t know. Rio?”

“Cooper’s in Nebraska, dead east of Lincoln. That’s all I got.”

Aegon is nodding, making notes on his map with a glittery forest green gel pen. “Cool, cool. If I don’t end up eaten or a zombie, I can look forward to being a sterile, glow-in-the-dark mutant.”

Luke frets: “What if we accidentally drink contaminated water or something?”

“Then you die an agonizing death, kiddo,” Rio says. “Your cells dissolve and you turn into human Jello and there’s nothing anybody can do about it.”

Luke swallows noisily. “Awesome.”

“You might just get cancer if the dose is small enough,” you tell him. Luke does not seem pacified. Rhaena gives him a sip of warm Coca-Cola from a plastic bottle from the Wawa.

Jace comes trudging back to the road, zipping up his khaki chino shorts. “Alright, are we ready?”

Helaena is gazing solemnly out over the fields of green leaves, red roots that grow like arteries into the soil. “We should try to find antivenom.”

“Antivenom?” Aemond asks, distracted as he makes sure nothing of importance was left in the Tahoe. The keys are still dangling from the ignition; you won’t need them. There’s no breathing the Tahoe back to life. There’s no returning to Aemond’s house back in Boston. There is only the West, beckoning you to cross rivers and plains and mountains to join her, and to do it as people did two hundred years ago, no cars, no phones, no escape hatches. The only way out is through.

“For the snakes,” Helaena says.

Aemond stares at her. The stitches in his face are dissolving as the flesh weaves back together, jagged maroon scar tissue, beautiful savage ruins, landscapes of improbable survival. “Helaena, antivenom has to be refrigerated. Even if we miraculously found some, it wouldn’t be useable.”

She nods, eyes wide and glazed, still peering into the fields, into the earth.

~~~~~~~~~~

A hand brushing the loose strands of hair out of your face, a whisper through the dissipating indigo of sleep: “Guess what today is.”

You startle awake and yelp as you bolt from your assailant. Aegon is watching you without any shame whatsoever. People are laughing as they gather up supplies so you all can get moving again, brushing teeth, arranging hair, drinking glass bottles of Stewart’s soda found last night in crates in the storeroom, snacking on bags of Utz chips. Sunlight is streaming in through the windows; specks of dust glimmer in the air like comets through the inhospitable void of outer space.

Luke says from where he is sitting on the floor, his arms and legs tethered: “Hopefully the day when somebody’s going to untie me.”

“It’s my birthday!” Aegon announces.

You’re still blinking at him, disoriented. “What…?”

“Aegon, I told you,” Aemond says, sipping a bottle of Stewart’s key lime soda. “It’s not your birthday. It’s not the 23rd.”

“It’s the 20th, right?” Rhaena says.

Rio looks to you, bewildered. “Isn’t it like the 25th?”

“We’re still in June?” Luke says. Now Aemond is hacking through his ropes with a hunting knife from the cellar in Distant, Pennsylvania.

“Your hand is healing up. Your color is good, your temperature is normal. I guess we can officially declare you human for the foreseeable future.”

“I knew it,” Jace says, combative so no one will see the desperate relief underneath.

Aemond examines your hands next, calloused over where the heat of the transmission tower burned the skin. There is no pretext for needing to tend to them any longer, no antiseptic or ointment or gauze. Aemond nods somberly at your palms, as if he isn’t entirely happy to pronounce them cured. His hands linger on yours for slow, unnecessary seconds.

“So what are we going to do special for my birthday?” Aegon presses eagerly.

“We’re going to walk between ten and twenty miles towards California,” Baela says.

“That’s not a birthday activity!”

Daeron groans as he inspects the screws and bolts of his compound bow. “Aegon, it’s not your birthday!”

“Shut up. You can’t even apply to get a credit card.”

“No one can get a credit card now! Currency is worthless!”

Rio offers you a cherries and cream soda. You take it and say: “Aegon, how old are you? On today, your alleged birthday?”

He hesitates. “That’s not the important part.”

Aemond smiles as he tells you, mock-whispering: “He’s thirty.”

“Thirty?!” Rio exclaims. “That’s like, an actual adult age. Marriage and a mortgage, shit like that. What were you doing before everything went insane?”

Aegon gestures vaguely. “I was considering a number of opportunities.”

“He was living on my couch,” Aemond says.

Rio shakes his head, grinning. “No job? No school? No nothing?”

“I wasn’t doing nothing. I played a lot of golf.”

“He was totally doing nothing,” Jace says. “I was in my third year of law school at Harvard, Baela was getting a master’s in Aeronautics and Astronautics at MIT, Rhaena just started an Anthropology PhD, Luke was getting a master’s in Screenwriting at Boston University—he was going to be very sad and very broke, but still, he had a plan—and Aegon was doing…nothing.”

“I’ve never had a real birthday party before,” Aegon tells you; and there is something in his murky blue eyes that is tremendously sad, wounded, childlike. “I might not get another chance.”

“What do you want to do?” Now people are alarmed, skittish glances and mouths open to object. You are encouraging him.

“I don’t know yet,” Aegon says. But he’s glad you bothered to ask. You can see it on his face.

It’s not until several hours later—after noon, the sun high and blazing, everyone’s unpracticed feet aching and blistering in their shoes—that Aegon experiences a revelation like the angel Gabriel appearing to the Virgin Mary or Sir Isaac Newton extrapolating gravity from an apple falling on his head. Aegon’s epiphany appears in the form of a bowling alley in Shenandoah, Ohio called Luxury Lanes. It is remarkably unluxurious, a nondescript black rectangular building with a few doors in the front, one small tinted window on each, and no other openings. To Aegon, it is an oasis in a desert.

“I want to go bowling!”

“Aegon, we’re not going bowling,” Baela says, breathing heavily but trying to hide it, her hands massaging the small of her back. Aemond is watching her worriedly. Baela is the only person not burdened with carrying any supplies beyond her hammer and shiny new Ruger—and she resisted this accommodation at first—but still, she suffers more than anyone.

“Once again, it is my birthday—”

“Aren’t bowling allies soundproofed?” Rio asks Aemond. “You know, so they don’t get noise complaints?”

“Uh, I guess so…?”

“It’s kind of a fortress, isn’t it?” Rio continues. “Not many ways in or out. We wouldn’t be seen or heard. Might be a good place to stop for the night. ”

“Yeah!” Aegon says. “Right, Aemond?”

Aemond looks at you. It takes you a moment to figure out why. “I think the bowling alley is a good idea,” you tell him. “It’ll be safe, assuming we can clear it. And Aegon can have his party.”

Aemond is skeptical. “A party?”

“Survival isn’t just about not dying. It’s also about holding onto the things that make us human.”

“Like bowling!” Rhaena says excitedly. “It’s preserving a tradition! And I used to be so good at bowling. I bowled a 250 game once.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Aegon says, still delighted to have her on his side.

“There’s a sign for a Walmart maybe half a mile up the road,” Daeron points out. “We could search it for supplies and then double back here.”

Aemond polls the audience. Everyone agrees.

Shenandoah is tiny, rural, religious, and out of the way from the major highways. The Walmart doors are chained shut with padlocks, and amazingly no one has taken that as an invitation to drive their car through them or otherwise shatter the glass yet. Rio is honored to be the first. He takes the butt of his Remington shotgun and punches through the glass of the locked doors, kicks away loose shards, whistles and shouts to lure out any zombies. A dozen of them come reeling out of the aisles and towards the doorway. Daeron shoots down most of them with his compound bow. Rio kills two with the butt of his Remington, his new favorite toy. Aegon, the birthday boy, uses his golf club to beat in the skull of a teenager who is still wearing glittery pink nail polish and fake eyelashes. According to her nametag, her friends and family once called her Raelynn.

Inside the Walmart, Jace and Aemond take one side of the store, you and Rio the other, doing a quick sweep to make sure you didn’t miss any undead employees or customers waiting for the chance to sink their teeth into you. And when that’s done, you begin shopping.

The shelves are probably two-thirds empty, but there are still treasures to be found. You push carts through the aisles and fill them with candles, lighters, Chef Boyardee, Doritos, canned soup, fruit snacks, tuna pouches, 5 gum, bottles of Snapple, socks and underwear, hair ties, t-shirts and shorts, Kleenex tissues, pads and tampons, toilet paper. Baela finds some cute maternity dresses. Helaena picks through the pharmacy for useful medications, Aemond shadowing her with a baseball bat in his hands and his Glock at his waist.

“Chips, they got Cheddar Whales!” Rio exclaims, tossing several boxes into your cart.

“I miss grocery stores,” Rhaena says as she climbs the shelves to get the last box of Teddy Grahams.

“I miss going to the mall and getting Auntie Anne’s pretzel nuggets,” Aegon commiserates. Then he stumbles upon the liquor aisle and his eyes light up like high beams. “Aemond!”

Aemond appears—perhaps a bit flustered—and deliberates for a while as he browses the selection, Aegon waiting anxiously, before he decides: “Since it is allegedly your birthday, you can drink tonight. And you can pick one other person to drink with you. But only one.”

“Rio,” Aegon says immediately.

“Come on!” Daeron whines.

Aegon is already putting bottles of Captain Morgan rum into a cart. “Sorry. Illegal. Underage.”

“I’ve helped you butcher countless zombies, but I can’t drink?!”

“Just Say No, as Nancy Reagan would tell an innocent child such as yourself.”

Jace strides over, sly and playful, gnawing on a Twizzler. “Aemond, were you over there rummaging through the medicine aisles again? What do you keep looking for? Condoms?”

There is an awkward silence, an extremely awkward silence. Aemond glares at Jace. Jace’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, I, uh…I was definitely joking. But…congrats on the possible future sex!”

“I already checked,” Luke tells Aemond apologetically. “You know condoms were the first thing to get bought up or looted everywhere.”

“Okay, great,” Aemond says quickly, willing the conversation to be over. There is blood, hot and mortified, flaring in his cheeks. He was thinking of you, he had to be; the only other single woman here is his sister, and obviously that’s not an option.

Jace takes another bite of his Twizzler. “Just pull out, man.”

Baela, incredulous, gestures to her belly. “Because that worked out super well for us.”

“I told you to stop riding me!”

“Yeah, a whole two seconds before you impregnated me with your super-swimmer Michael Phelps sperm.”

“Please don’t make me listen to this,” Luke begs. “I’m starting to wish I really was bitten.”

“Don’t you know all the tricks to not getting someone pregnant, Aemond?” Jace says. “Wasn’t that going to be your specialty? You wanted to be a vagina doctor? So don’t you know all the mysteries of the vagina, Aemond?”

“He was going to be an OB/GYN,” Baela says, unamused.

“Really?” Rio turns to Aemond. “Why would you want to do that?”

“So he gets to look at pussies all day,” Aegon says morosely, as if heartbroken that such a path is inaccessible to him.

“That’s not why,” Aemond insists, mostly to you.

You smile. “I didn’t think so. What’s the actual reason?”

“Interns do rotations in different departments so we can figure out what we enjoy and what we’re best suited for. I knew within two days of my OB/GYN rotation that that’s where I wanted to be. Giving birth is the only life-threatening trauma that is necessary for humanity to continue. I wanted to help people get through it as safely and painlessly as possible.” Then his gaze darts to Baela. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound worse—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m very much aware. It hurts like hell, people die. Believe me, I’d be thinking about that even if you hadn’t said it. I think about it all the time.”

“I have an idea you’re not going to like.”

“What?” Baela says. Aemond nods to the nearest shopping cart. “No way. You’re not going to push me around in one of those.”

“I believe it’s an adequate solution until an alternative appears.”

She sighs. “I’ve lost my body, my career, my society, my parents…must I lose my dignity too?”

Aemond winks. “Only when you’re too tired to walk.”

“Alright, Aemond. I realize you’re under the impression that this is a favor. So thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Let me give you a favor in return.” Then Baela begins shooing everyone except you and Aemond out of the liquor aisle. “Grab anything else you want, we’re leaving in five minutes! Jace, come look at the baby clothes with me…”

When the two of you are alone, Aemond says: “I really hope that didn’t make you feel too weird. I’m not someone who gets uncomfortable about the…um…the subject matter in general. But I wouldn’t want you to think that I was trying to…I don’t know. Assume anything or pressure you into something that you weren’t already open to. Obviously I like…um…I mean, enthusiastic consent is essential, and I just…I would never try to convince anybody or…you know what, I’m just going to stop talking now. Okay?”

“Aemond, I’m fine. I didn’t think it was weird.”

“It’s a compliment,” he confesses, flushing pink again, touching his chin, perspiration gleaming at his temples.

Now you have to show interest so he knows you’re on the same page. You’ve never had to think this way before, you’ve never liked anyone enough to play the game. “So hypothetically, if someone didn’t want to get pregnant but there were no condoms, pills, etcetera…what are the options?”

He looks at you, pleasantly surprised. “Well, there’s the rhythm method. It’s not perfect, but it’s been around forever and is reasonably reliable if done correctly.”

You are only vaguely familiar. “We didn’t get a lot of sex ed down in Kentucky.”

Aemond chuckles then leans in, a mischievous curl of his lips, a craving in the crystalline river blue of his eye. He grips the shelf above your head, his arm a canopy. His voice is hushed. The front windows of the Walmart face west where the sun is setting; golden light floods in to illuminate the store. “Is your cycle regular?”

“It is, actually.” This should be embarrassing, but it’s not; it’s exhilarating. You’re imagining him seeing you, touching you, unearthing secrets you’ve never been tempted to share with anyone else.

“So if we imagine it like a circle…” He draws one on the back of your hand, invisible, mesmerizing, blue-white lightning crackling up the path of your metacarpals, wrist, ulna and radius, humerus and clavicle, descending ribs like the rungs of a ladder to jolt the sinus rhythm of your heart. “The start of your period would be Day One.”

“Okay,” you say, hypnotized as his fingerprint skates in an arc across the bumps of your knuckles.

“Ovulation doesn’t happen until around Day Fourteen. You might have noticed some increased arousal and…wetness. Clear in color, elastic consistency.”

Your eyes are trapped in his face, smooth skin, jagged scar tissue. You tease him back, stepping closer. You can hear people snickering in the next aisle as they eavesdrop. You don’t care about them, and neither does Aemond anymore. “Now that you mention it…”

“That’s nature trying to trick you into reproducing. Day Fourteen is crunch time. Once ovulation occurs, the egg is only good for up to twenty-four hours. And then the rest of the cycle you’re effectively useless, as far as making miniature humans is concerned.”

“Wait, you’re telling me people can only get pregnant one day a month?” This seems improbable. “How has the species managed to survive this long?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Aemond admits. “Depending on the health of the specimens, sperm can survive up to five days inside a woman’s body. And it’s difficult to tell exactly when ovulation occurs. So, in practice, there’s basically one week a month when you’d want to avoid a man…completing the act, if you will.” He’s still smiling, taunting, famished, imagining the same scenes you are. You know this with a categorical certainty, as if you’re reading his thoughts like stark stripes of distance on a measuring tape. “And that’s also the week when your hormones are demanding you have sex, inspiring you to make all sorts of impulsive yet extremely consequential decisions.”

“Don’t I know it,” Baela laments from the next aisle, and there is a rupture of wild giggles.

“Anyway.” Aemond lifts his finger from the back of your hand and you have to stop yourself from reaching for him as he recedes from you. “There’s a basic overview.”

“It was very educational.” You follow him out of the liquor aisle.

“I’ve used the rhythm method for years,” Rhaena says as everyone makes their way towards the front of the store with their carts. “Clearly that’s just anecdotal, so don’t think I’m officially endorsing it. When I’m in my fertile week we add condoms. Well…we used to. Back when we could get them.”

“Ugh, I hate condoms,” Baela grumbles.

“We can tell,” Aegon says.

“I hate the way they feel, I hate the way they smell…”

“They’ve never bothered me,” Rhaena says. “I don’t notice that much of a difference. And it can be fun to try different kinds.”

“Are you on drugs?” Baela whirls to you. “Seriously, what is wrong with her? I’m right, aren’t I? Condoms are awful.”

Rio gives you a cautious look, uncharacteristically reticent. He’s not going to be the one to reveal it. He doesn’t know if it’s something you’re willing to share. But if anything is going to happen with Aemond—and you want it to, already you know you want him—then it’s something you think you should be honest about. You want him to know about you. You don’t want to have to create some false version of yourself to wear like a pelt, heavy, smothering, something that will inevitably need to be taken off.

“I am regretfully not qualified to say.”

“You’ve never used condoms?” Baela asks, a bit dubious.

“I’ve never done any of it.”

Everyone freezes at the defunct checkout counters and turns to gawk at you. “No sex?” Jace says. “No nothing?”

You shrug, smiling a little self-consciously. “I made out with a guy once.”

“The Marine from Corpus Christi?” Baela asks. They’re obsessed with him, they’re convinced there’s some lore to be excavated, translated, displayed like a relic in a museum. There isn’t. Sometimes people pass in and out of your life as seamlessly as shadows or sunlight, no weight, no indentations, nothing to recall or relay. He existed and then he didn’t. He was an airplane drawing contrails in the sky that faded before the blood red fire of dusk filled the horizon.

“No. Someone from home. Just a guy, not even worth mentioning.”

“Girl, you gotta fix that, soon, pronto, like yesterday.” Jace seems genuinely horrified. “You can’t die a virgin.”

“You really can’t,” Daeron adds, and Aegon pretends to be distraught over the loss of his youngest brother’s virtue.

“That’s what I’m always telling her!” Rio says.

“Not everybody wants to have sex,” Helaena murmurs as she records today’s findings in her spider notebook.

“True,” Jace concedes. “And that is totally legit. Mother Teresa, Queen Elizabeth, Jesus Christ, Buddha, Joan of Arc, Sir Isaac Newton, Nikola Tesla, the Jonas Brothers for a while, all great people. But Chips is not celibate by choice, correct?”

“Buddha had a wife and son,” Aemond says, preoccupied. He isn’t looking at you now, which is concerning; he’s peering down at where his hands grip his shopping cart, his brow creased with…what is that? Unease, disapproval, concern, thoughtfulness, fear?

“It’s not some big thing,” you backpedal. “I don’t have a hangup about it, I just never met a guy I liked enough, and enlisted men, they’re…well, a lot of them are taken, or cheaters, or idiots. Or all three.”

“Not to worry, Chipper.” Aegon claps a hand on your shoulder; and you aren’t sure if it is his purpose to break the tension, but he seems to have that effect regardless. “If you ever wish to be initiated into the art of lovemaking by a slightly below average and entirely unintimidating penis, I’d be thrilled to assist you. I love condoms. But in their absence, I am the king of pulling out. 100% success rate. Zero bastard children running around to my knowledge.”

“You should give Jace lessons,” Baela says.

And the last thing Aegon takes from the Walmart is a green battery-powered Toshiba CD player so he can blast to his mixtapes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Flickering candles lining the middle lane, drinks and snacks strewn across the tables, Rio’s Moonbeam propped up so it’s aimed at the disco ball still hanging from the ceiling from a time before the dead started devouring the living. Daeron is at the end of the lanes to reset the pins after each player’s turn. Helaena is keeping score in her notebook; Rhaena is currently in the lead by a massive 80 points. Aegon is wasted, dancing on a table and crunching Cool Ranch Doritos beneath his bare feet, his blonde hair flopping. Each time it’s his turn to bowl, Aegon has to roll the ball down the lane with two hands like a child. Rio, several shots deep but unable to feel much shy of half a bottle, is singing along with him to Cruise by Florida Georgia Line, but it’s really more like shouting, each sentence an off-key monstrosity that makes you laugh.

“Baby, you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise!

Down a back road, blowin’ stop signs through the middle, every little farm town with you!

And this brand new Chevy with a lift kit, would look a hell of a lot better with you up in it!

So baby, you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise!”

You cleared Luxury Lanes easily; the only difficult part was figuring out how to get into the area called the pit where, in normal times, felled pins were mechanically collected and sorted. There were two former employees roaming around back there in their tattered uniforms, snarling and drooling blood. Both were rapidly neutralized.

Someone always has to be by the front doors, watching through the small tinted windows for signs of trouble, whether from zombies or living humans. Aemond is currently on guard, nursing a Snapple. According to the bottle, the flavor is called Takes 2 To Mango. You grab your own Snapple—plain and simple Lemon Tea, no charming gimmicks—and walk over to join him.

“So now I guess it’s my turn to say I hope that conversation didn’t make you feel weird.”

He smiles politely, glancing out the window. “No, I’m completely fine.”

“Good. Because I don’t want you to look at me differently than you would any other girl, like I’m better than them, or worse than them, or like there’s anything wrong with me, because it really isn’t something I consider to be paramount to my identity, and people always seem to get all twisted up about it, but it’s a pretty boring story, I just…”

“You’ve never liked someone enough to take the risk. I get it. I don’t think you’re a freak or anything.”

“Okay. Good.” The next song on Aegon’s mixtape is Shaboozey’s A Bar Song. Jace is dancing with Baela, spinning her around as she giggles. With Rhaena’s coaching, Luke bowls his first strike. You rest your head on the door as you gaze up at Aemond, the phantom of a smile on your lips. “I might like you enough.”

And he says as if it’s the worst thing in the world, a plague, an infection, an apocalypse: “You’d fall in love with me.”

It hurts, of course it does, this flippant rejection. He burns you, he cuts you, he stitches you up with no anesthetic. You try not to show it. “You’re…confident.”

“No, I don’t mean because of anything specific I would do, it’s just…it’s natural to form a certain…attachment. To the first person you’re with. It leaves an impression.” Not an impression like a first judgment, superficial and swift; an impression like an imprint, a hollow, a prehistoric fossil that is preserved through eons. “That was already true before. And everything is more intense now, because life is so…” Aemond takes a while to settle on a word. “Precarious.”

You say like a challenge: “Are you still in love with the first girl you slept with?”

A shadow that ripples through his face, a flinching he tries to hide. You shouldn’t have asked. Still, you feel like you need to know, like you’ll run out of oxygen if you don’t. “I think I’ve gotten enough distance from it to realize that she wasn’t…wasn’t good for me in a lot of ways. It was an unconventional situation. But I still carry all these pieces of her around with me, yes. I don’t think that will ever go away.”

“Aemond,” you say gently. “Who was she?”

He is evasive, smirking. “It’s a cliché.”

“Was she a patient? That’s very Grey’s Anatomy of you.”

“No. She was my professor.”

An older woman, wise and experienced and captivating and sophisticated. He’s cut you again, a blade slicing effortlessly through veins like soft butter. “Oh. From med school?”

“Undergrad.”

“You were really young,” you say, a little startled.

He nods. “I was eighteen when it started. I was this shy, insecure, friendless freshman, she was married with two kids around my age. And it was off and on, but there was never anyone else for me, she took up too much space in my head, in my chest, like I couldn’t breathe unless I knew we were okay.”

“It went on for seven years?”

This seems to stun him, hearing how much of his existence she bottled like a terrarium. “I guess so.”

Is she dead? Missing? Safe somewhere with her husband and kids? “Is she…gone?”

His gaze drops to the floor. “Yeah.”

“Did you see it happen?”

“I was the one who killed her when she turned.”

It’s indescribably horrible; you don’t know what to say. “Aemond, I’m…I’m really sorry…”

He is abruptly nonchalant, the blue of his eye cool and dispassionate. “Look, I’m not prepared for this to be anything more than casual. And I don’t think casual is really in the cards for us. So it’s probably best to leave it alone.”

“Right,” you agree numbly, not meaning it.

“We’re headed different places, I’m going to California, you’re planning to end up in Oregon, it’s just…a bad idea to muddy the waters, I think.”

“Because I haven’t done this before.”

He shrugs ambiguously. “It’s a contributing factor.”

“Well you seemed pretty interested before you found that out, so.”

“I don’t mean to offend you.”

“You aren’t offending me. You’re disappointing me.”

Now Aemond is offended. “By trying to protect us?”

“No, by saying you don’t think I’m a freak when you clearly do, and by having some savior complex, or a whore-Madonna complex, or whatever’s going on in your head, it’s always such a mystery to everyone else.”

He downs the rest of his Snapple and shoves the bottle into the nearest trash can. You hear it thump against the bottom, no garbage bag. “Alright. This was fun.”

“Maybe you’re afraid of making a mistake, just like I always was.”

“Maybe I don’t want to have to teach you how to do everything,” Aemond snaps.

“I taught you how to shoot.”

“The fact that you don’t realize how wildly different those two situations are proves you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, bye. Sorry about your zombie girlfriend.”

Aemond glares at you, shocked, furious. “That was so fucking low.”

It was. You regret it. But you can’t bring yourself to tell him that. You flee to the far end of the bowling alley and sit alone at a table draped in shadows. After a while, Rio notices and ventures over to see what’s wrong, a bottle of Captain Morgan swinging from one hand. He’s tipsy now.

Rio sighs as he takes a seat beside you, reaching over to rub your back. His hands are large and indelicate; what he means to be comforting is more like getting manhandled. Sometimes he leaves bruises, but it’s not his fault. Nature gave Rio the body of a killer. If anyone is going to survive the zombie apocalypse, it’s him. “What’s going on, Chips?”

Your voice breaks as you say it; tears sting in your eyes. “I hate caring about people.”

He bursts out laughing. “Yeah, it’s the worst, isn’t it? But once in a while it works out.”

“Bryan.”

And now he knows you’re serious. You have his full attention, large dark eyes fixed on your face, lines etching into his brow beneath the artificial starlight of the disco ball. “What are you asking me?”

“We can’t leave them and walk to the West Coast ourselves, can we?”

“I mean, technically we could, but it would be really stupid. Everything’s so much easier with ten people. And also I think I’d have to kidnap Aegon and take him with us, I love that little dude. Why? Do you really want to leave them?”

“No.”

“I figured.” He offers you the half-empty bottle of Captain Morgan.

“I’m not drinking that.”

“Come on. It’ll take the edge off.”

You look at him. Rio looks back, smiling now.

“I’ll watch out for you,” he says. “And if you get bit I’ll shoot you dead, no hesitation, swear to God. I remember our promise. I won’t let you die alone.”

“You’re a good guy.”

“I know.” He nudges your arm with the bottle of Captain Morgan. “A few swigs won’t hurt. It’ll help you sleep.”

You take the bottle, twist off the cap, drink down amber-gold poison that burns like gasoline, like fire.

[liver-f4ilure]

The Charleston Church Shooting: Dylann Roof

*NOTE! This is a repost! And it will look familiar CAUSE IVE POSTED IT ON ANOTHER ACCOUNT!! Is it the best? No.*

—

Early life/ Prior convictions

Dylann was born April 3rd 1994 to mother Amelia and father Franklin with 2 sisters Amber and Morgan. During early childhood his parents would divorce and his father would later remarry. His stepmother accused his father of abuse. He would beg his step mother to let him live with her but she wasn’t able to. Dylann would be described to have obsessive compulsive tendencies with germs. In middle school he would stop caring about school and started smoking weed and drinking vodka. In nine years he would have attended seven schools. In 2010 he would drop out of Highschool and continue playing video games and smoking weed and drinking.

(The Roofs home)

In 2015 he was caught with an invalid prescription for suboxone at a mall to which he was banned from for a year. Later that year he was caught loitering in the mall to which they searched his car finding a forearm grip for a AR-15 semiautomatic rifle and six unloaded magazines capable of holding 40 rounds each but was let off it was legal in the state. Roofs Suboxone charge was mishandled and a system error took it as a misdemeanour instead of a felony. Which would have possibly prohibited him from purchasing the firearm.

(The flag of Rhodesia)

Later Dylann would look into the Trayvon Martin case and from an unknown article concluded Zimmerman was in the right. He then fell down a rabbit hole of black on white crime and misinformation. He then found 4chan and would find even more misinformation and hard right ideologies Dylann states he hasn’t been the same since that day. Which leads to his manifesto titled ‘The last Rhodesian’ Rhodesia being the African state founded in 1965 ran by primary Europeans and a white supremacy ideology before being abolished in 1979. The term now sticks with white supremac!sts like Dylann had became, as he also used the flag on his jacket. In preparation before the attack he looked up black churches and found the Emanuel Methodist Episcopal Church and would scout the area and ask around about mass times.

The shooting

(The Emanuel Methodist Episcopal Church)

June 15th 2015 somewhere around 8:00pm Dylann entered the church, once he did he was greeted by Rev.Pinckney and given a bible to study with. Roof was sat next to Pinckney as the study continued. As the study closed and the ending pray started Roof stood up and pulled out his Glock 41 .45 calibre handgun and began shooting. Killing Pinckney first. Then 26 year old Tywanza Sanders stood up to plead with Dylann before he said ‘I have to do it. You rape our women and you’re taking over our country and you have to go’ he then shot and k!lled Sharonda Singleton, Dr. Daniel L. Simmons, Ethel Lee Lance, Cynthia Hurd, Myra Tompson and Tywanza Sanders. Dylann would reload 5 times that day. Polly Shepherd was spared when he asked her if he shot her yet to which she replied no he then told her ‘good cause we need someone to survive because I’m gonna shoot myself and you’ll be the only survivor. He then turned the gun on himself realizing he was out of ammo. He then left the church to the surprise there wasn’t anyone outside. The next day the police confirmed the gunman was 21 year old Dylann Roof with witnesses reporting they saw him drive towards Shelby, a town close to Charleston. At 10:44am Roof was arrested at a traffic stop in Shelby where it was then confirmed he worked alone.

(The victims)

The Trial

Five days after the shooting the grand jury announced that Roof was being indicted for 33 federal charges.

12 counts hate crime against black people

12 counts obstructing the exercise of religion

9 counts murder using a firearm.

On June 6th Roof reportedly did not want to be trialed by jury and instead let the judge decide if he was guilty and if the death penalty was reasonable. August 23rd Roofs lawyers called the motion of death penalty unconstitutional and asked to reject the motion. On September 1st an on camera hearing was held in case of outbursts. December 7th 2016 the trial started. During a survivor statement Roofs mom collapsed as she had a heart attack. After 3 days of the trial FBI played a video on which he admitted to laughing and drinking while describing to friends how he’d shoot the church. To which his friend didn’t report to police and said he was drunk and took his keys and Glock that was on him. After 2 hours the jury found him guilty on all 33 charges. Roof wanting to plead guilty but told not to by lawyers.

(Roof at his video hearing)

January 10th 2017 Roof was sentenced to the death penalty,death by lethal injection.

[spacebitz]

It's raining... EGGS!?!

Alt text: A picture of all 12 eggs from the QSMP falling from the sky. The artwork is bright and colorful, and there are a few fluffy white clouds that paint the teal to cyan sky in the background. Juanaflippa is pictured with her iconic 9mm glock and fireballs, Bobby is doing the splits in midair, and Tilin has a rose that is shedding petals. Gegg is pictured with a sign that reads "Gegg", while Tallulah is playing her flute with Venus at her side. Chayanne is flipping a pancake in a pan, with various foods around him. Dapper has bubbles, and Ramon has a redstone torch. Leonarda has a camera, a totem, a diamond sword and a purple mushroom. Finally, Trump has his iconic hat and candy, whilst Pomme and Richarlyson have paintbrushes, sketches on paper, and their hats ( a barret and a mooshroom head). All of the eggs are posed as if they are either falling dramatically or posing for the camera. They and the objects they are holding are all falling from the sky and have action lines to indicate it.

[lymmielove]

fairy tail headcanons bc why not

Natsu has the neatest handwriting out of the kids the grew up in Fairy Tail (Gray, Erza, Cana, Levy, etc..), Erza has the worst one.

Romeo's last name is actually Rose. His Dad and His Mom divorced, and he chose to have his Mom's last name since she raised him better anyways. So, his full name's Romeo Rose. Wendy told him his name was pretty. He blushed with pink fire coming out of his nose

Speaking of Romeo and Wendy, they're besties. They be gossiping about guild drama behind all they backs. Wendy knows about shit she shouldn't because Romeo was both literally and figuratively born in the guild

Lucy has Aquarius. Yukino has Scorpio. The two wizards are straight pen pals bc of it

Loke and Aries are dating. Ophiuchus was the only Zodiac to know.

Rogue cannot handle alcohol. He drinks mocktails

When the Barbie Movie came out, The kids who grew up in Fairy Tail dressed up in extravagant pink. Gajeel, Lucy, and Juvia went to go see Oppenheimer.

Romeo, Wendy, and Sherria are the friends you wouldnt expect to be friends

During when the gang was gone for seven years, Romeo got all of their clothes from when they were kids. He keeps them in his room. The gang knows, but doesn't comment on it seeing as they practically raised the kid.

Romeo's mom is a member of Quatro Cerberus. She was banished from Magnolia on something she didn't commit. After The GMG, she was allowed back. The Fairy Kid gang calls her "Auntie Enno"

Levy is the most "like that" out of the Fairy Kids. She has a glock and everything. When she was younger she always wanted the smoke.

Freed is the most "like that" out of the Thunder Legion. The Wizard Saints fear him. The Council fears him. Laxus loves him.

Bickslow's babies have deemed Lisanna as they mama. Bickslow doesn't mind.

Lisanna came back to the guild and immediately turned bi. Too many hot ladies and pretty men.

Yukino's first kiss was Minerva when they were like 12. Yukino didn't know it was Minerva until she met her in Sabertooth.

Minerva, Sting, Rogue, Orga, Rufus, and Yukino all had a plan to try and off Jiemma. Sting just snapped enough to get him early.

Yukino actually constantly compares herself to Lucy a lot. Yukino's dream was to get all 13 zodiac keys, but Lucy has them, so she backed off. She came very close to breaking all her contracts even after when she had her convo with Lucy. Her and Ophiuchus had a very heartfelt convo afterwards.

All dragons have a "dragon thing." Wendy can stop storms in their tracks several countries away. Gajeel's a human metal detector and magnet. Sting's a human glowstick. Rogue can bend rooms to his will if they're pitch black. Natsu has the highest spice tolerance in all of Earthland, AND he sheds scales regularly that can be mini-bombs if used correctly.

All dragon slayers (THAT HAD DRAGON PARENTS) are 85% dragon and 15% human. I didn't make the rules. They all have tails and horns and visible scales.

Dragon Slayers have a hoard network where they share treasures (i'll elaborate on this later)

[antihumanist]

Random Trivia/Facts About Pekka-Eric Auvinen:

He liked to go swimming, taking walks, and riding his bike for exercise

He never knew how to drive a car

He originally wanted to get a Glock but the police rejected his application because they thought a 9mm was too powerful for a starting firearms owner

He wrote in his diary he hoped to use a shotgun but obviously he never obtained one

He had been interested in things like history, political ideology, philosophy, etc since he was about 12 years old

When 9/11 happened, he was sad that it happened because at that time he admired America. He was still playing with Legos and would rebuild the twin towers over and over again

In the summer of 2006, he found a job working at a farm, but he left this job as soon ad summer ended. He also worked there with a friend from school if I remember right. It's not known what exactly he did at the farm

He was afraid in 2007 to find work because of his anxiety

Since a young age, he dressed formally/dress-like, which was one reason why he would get bullied at school. It's not clear if he wore things like button-up shirts and slacks because he wanted to or if his parents made him wear them.

He took school seriously, and wanted to try his best in all of his classes at Jokela High School. He usually got average to above average grades and was said to have been in above average intelligence compared to his classmates

When he was 14 years old, his social studies/history teacher remembers he was really opinionated about left wing and right wing ideologies, which was something he had never seen before In a student

When he was 17, in 2006, for a class discussion about North Korea, he told the class he thinked dictatorships were good because human beings didn't deserve rights at all

Even his parents say he was opinionated and stubborn, his mother said if you would try to convince him of an idea/ideology/viewpoint, he would go the opposite way of what said idea believes in

After graduation in 2008, he said he planned to go to a university to study either history, philosophy, or social psychology

He admired Hitlers leadership abilities and how he made the Third Reich a superpower, but he did not agree with Hitler ideologically

He hated racism and thought racism was stupid

In May of 2007, he and his English class watched a documentary about the Columbine Massacre (it's not known which documentary), classmates remember he was smiling and enjoying the documentary, he had already knew about Columbine by this point

He once asked his mother to go the library to get him a Finnish translation of the Unabombers manifesto Industrial Society And It's Future, but the library did not have one

In the few months leading to the Jokela Shooting, his grades had been dropping and was attending his classes less often

He got his computer in 2005 (iirc)

He took Lexapro but gradually stopped taking them by the time of his death

Whilst he may have had a few friends at school (although there is some debate of whether his in person friends were "true friends"), he probably felt he could relate and bond more with his online friends, so in a sense he was still a loner

He would blush whenever girls would say hi to him at school

Girls however, would sometimes take part in his bullying too

He once was a member of a forum called "SovietEmpire.com" but the site has since shut down

On the day of the shooting, he was supposedly seen on a supermarket CCTV riding his bike to the school but it was never released to the public

He had a knife on him, but he never used it. It was given to him by his grandfather

He was sad about the death of his grandmother

He had a mentally handicapped uncle, whom he cared about and loved

He had been accused of being a Nazi and a communist by his classmates

Somewhere around the ages of 8 to 12, he introduced himself by his name and that he loved democracy to his class on a first day of school

[attakkreload]

KIP KINKEL FACTS

• Full name is Kipland Philip Kinkel

• Diagnosed with dyslexia in 4th grade

• Suffers with paranoid schizophrenia (this wasn’t discovered until after the events of May 20th-21st)

• Diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder

• Used to take lexapro, but quit cold turkey because they thought he was “doing better”

• Held back and repeated first grade

• Played football

• In class, he was voted as “most likely to start world war 3”

• Made a detailed presentation on “how to make a bomb” for class

• Collected guns, bombs and knives

• Bought the “Anarchist Cookbook” in seventh grade

• His father bought him guns

• Strained relationship with his father

• Charged with 58 felonies, 4 counts of aggravated murder and 26 counts of attempted murder on May 22nd 1998

• Sentenced to 111 years in prison

• Carried a .22 caliber semiautomatic rugar rifle, 9mm glock pistol and a .22 caliber rugar semiautomatic pistol

• “Liebestod” from the 1996 Romeo & Juliet soundtrack was found on replay on May 21st in Kips home

• Was interested in Romeo and Juliet

• Listened to Nine Inch Nails, Marilyn Manson, Tool and Nirvana

• On Kips online accounts, he listed his hobbies as “Role-playing games, heavy metal music, violent cartoons / TV, sugared cereal, throwing rocks at cars and EC comics”

for an occupation he wrote “Student, surfing the web for info on how to build a bomb”

• Was spotted regularly with his friend, shooting at birds and ground animals with a 20-gauge sawed off shotgun / .22

• Was charged after throwing rocks at cars from an overpass in 1997

• Suspended twice from school

• Kept a bullet taped to his chest in case he ran out of ammunition, but could not follow through

• Kips parents had high expectations from him

• At the age of 12, he started hearing voices telling him “You need to kill everyone, everyone in the world”

[dollielliot]

♬ ྀ ㅤ🧾 ㅤ⬚͒ Elliot Rodger's purchases leading up to the isla vista shooting ✉͟️͟

Elliot Rodger used a Chase debit card to make most of his purchases. The debit card was linked to a Chase checking account that was only in his name. He received a monthly allowance of $500 per month from Peter. The suspect also received additional monetary deposits into his checking account from other family members.

Elliot Rodger's Chase checking account included the following transactions of interest:

( 12/4/12 ) ⤷　 　$755.57 — Goleta Valley Gun & Supply, a firearms dealer in Goleta, CA'63

( 3/12/13, 3/13/13 ) ⤷　 　$1,179.48 — Gun World, a firearms dealer in Burbank, CA 164 + ⤷　 　$460.00 — Botach Tactical, a tactical equipment dealer in Los Angeles, CA 165

( 3/29/13, 1/17/14, 2/14/14, 2/22/14, 2/22/14 ) ⤷　 　$92.60 — The Target Range, a shooting range in Van Nuys, CA + ⤷　 　$32.51 — Goleta Valley Gun & Supply + ⤷　 　$109.09 — The Target Range + ⤷　 　$1,132.00 — B&G Guns, a firearms dealer in Oxnard, CA 166 + ⤷　 　$121.48 — Shooter's Paradise, a shooting range in Oxnard, CA l67 + SBSO case 14-7595, supplement 0238 + SBSO case 14-7595, supplement 0234

Financial records from ( 8/26/09 to 5/23/14 ) were examined

Purchase of 9mm Glock 34 semi-automatic pistol + Purchase of 9mm Sig Sauer P226R semi-automatic pistol + Purchase of ten Sig Sauer P226 9mm magazines (10 round capacity) + 16 Purchase of 9mm Sig Sauer P226R semi-automatic pistol + 167 Purchase of pistol cleaning kit + Cold Steel Boar Hunter knife

[reallyromealone]

Hi! I was wondering if we could get a part 12 to the bontens fortune teller series?

So I have a bit of the final chapter, I am gonna be finishing it eventually but here it is so far

Fortune Teller 12

X

(Name) sat between Koko and Mochi, the make-up felt heavy and nerves high "you look like a little doll ~" Rindō said from across, grinning and eyeing (name) up and down much to (name)s discomfort, he swore he heard Naoto.... God he hoped naoto was near.

"They're following" the driver said simply and Sanzu hissed in annoyance "lose them." Before pulling out his phone dialing a number "were executing plan Natto"" he said simply and the car started speeding up, (name) looking started as Mochi held him close "nosey cops want to get in the way" he said into (name)s ear "but we won't let them get in the way, this is practically our honeymoon~" (name) felt sick at this notion and realized how he was dressed... He was dressed like a bride almost.

Awful.

Absolutely awful.

Naoto hissed out as the black SUVs sped up and clearly tried to loose him, turning on his sirens to force any traffic out of the way "this is officer Naoto tachibana, ID number "449860-12 I'm in the middle of a high speed chase with a possible kidnap victim"

"What's your location?" The operator asked calmly and Naoto gave the exact location "were sending backup"

"Thank you" he breathed as he sped up to keep up with them much to bontens annoyance.

(Name)s heart was racing in his throat at this point, Bonten seemed annoyed but not to phased by it all as if this was something they knew would happen.

"We got you so many things at the new location, all the entertainment you could want and a nice bed that's durable~" (name) wanted to gag at their delusional behavior but kept quiet as they went off about things.

SLAM

(name) fell to the floor of the SUV as a car slammed into the trunk "shit--" Sanzu pulled out his glock as the car struggled to get back into the lane as Rindō pulled (name) up as sirens could be heard.

Gunshots could be heard and (name)s head felt dizzy as he looked around for anything to make sense.

Another SUV pulled up and opened to see Kakucho "BRING HIM HERE"

(name) could barely process himself being tossed to the other SUV and caught in Mikey's arms, clothes torn and shaking "put these on" Mikey commanded as he handed (name) gloves, he didn't need (name) freezing up if things got ugly. (Name)

[stresscrimes]

guns used by mass killers (repost)

first row, left side

Adam Lanza, Bushmaster XM15-E2S rifle

Brandon Hole, Ruger AR-556 semi-automatic rifle

Salvador Ramos, Daniel Defense DDM4 V7

Nikolas Cruz, Smith & Wesson M&P15 Sport II and AR-15 rifle

Payton Gendron, bushmaster XM-15 E2S target AR-15-style semi-automatic rifle

right side, first two rows, left to right

Dylann Roof, Glock 41 .45-caliber handgun

William Atchison, Glock 19 Gen 4 9mm pistol

Jarid Haddock, Possibly a Glock 19 Gen 3 with modifications

Pekka Auvinen, .22 calibre SIG Sauer Mosquito semi-automatic pistol

Ian Stawicki, .45-caliber Remington 1911 R1 handgun

Dylan Klebold, Intratec TEC-DC9

left side, top to bottom, second row

Brenton Tarrant, WW-15 AR-15–style rifle

Eric Hairs, Hi-Point 995 carbine

Jeff Weise, Remington 870 Police Magnum pump-action shotgun

Eero Hiltunen, Sako L579 .308-caliber bolt-action hunting rifle

Aaron Alexis, Remington Model 870 Express Synthetic Tactical 7-Round 12-gauge shotgun

Kimveer Gill, Beretta Cx4 Storm

right side, last row top to bottom

Dimitris Patmanidis, Converted blank pistol

Radcliffe Haughton, .40-caliber handgun

Matti Saari, Walther P22

Sebastian Bosse, Ardesa "Patriot" caplock pistol