#tw gun violence mention

[justaz]

yknow what…..im thinking about it. (american) gen z grew up surrounded by talk of climate change and actual school shootings where peers and friends literally die at age 11 and that was just like our norm. the economy is shit so we cant buy houses and can barely afford food, our schools were a war zone, and our planet is dying. that was our youth, death at every turn. a lot of gen z (i think i can go global here, not just america) will tell you like “yeah i didn’t ever see myself living past fifteen much less eighteen. i thought i’d be dead by now” and so now we have like no idea wtf we’re doing and we’re just trying to make the best out of our shitty lives.

anyways merlin also kinda grew up like that as in his very existence was a death sentence and if the wrong person found out he’d be dead. growing up hearing from your mother that you cant tell anyone the truth bc what you are, how you were born, is wrong in this world and that many people would cheer to see you die….yeah what if he had the same thought process and was like “yeah fuck guess my death is inevitable” and just stopped giving a fuck. he’s confrontational and picks fights without regard for his opponents strength or numbers bc hey if he goes out this way then at least he was doing something good and standing up for what he believed in, if he doesn’t die then cool he made a difference. that’s why he goes toe to toe with arthur even after finding out he’s the prince of the most powerful kingdom in albion that started the whole campaign calling for his head.

just merlin being kind of like a medieval gen z lmao like taking no shit and taking all these risks bc hey he never thought he’d make it to twenty so wtf else is he meant to do?? live a life of paranoia and wariness? no. he’s gonna die in the end no matter what, if it happens sooner rather than later….well…he never thought he’d make it this far so he did better than he originally expected. this is why he gets on with gwaine so well bc they both have like passive suicidal tendencies where they take all these risks and make all these choices that put their lives at risk bc they don’t particularly care one way or the other how it turns out. real recognizes real.

[truecrimecrystals]

Andrae Davis was murdered at his own home on August 17th, 2011. The 31-year-old man lived in Albuquerque, New Mexico with his fiancé and their young children at the time of his death. Andrae was killed after a bullet went through the front door of his residence. 

The night of the murder began as a pleasant one for Andrae. He spent the evening with his fiancé and children at a local park. What began as a nice night with family quickly took a tragic turn after they returned to their home at the Eagle Nest Condominiums on Vail Street. At some point, a fight broke out in front of Andrae's residence, causing a loud commotion right outside the door. 

As he looked through the peephole, Andrae noticed that the fight was amongst a group of men. He did not know the men, nor did he ever attempt to get involved in the altercation. Andrae continued to watch through the peephole as one of the men drew a gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet missed the intended target; instead, it went through Andrae's front door and struck him in the heart. 

Andrae's loved ones have been left without answers or justice for several years. In the days that followed the shooting, Andrae's family members were told by police that "a person involved in the shooting had escaped from UNM Hospital and fled to Mexico." Police also stated that two other persons of interest have fled the country as well. The identities of said persons have never been publicly revealed. 

In 2015, Andrae's family was awarded $12 million in a lawsuit filed against Eagle Nest Condominiums and its property management company. The lawsuit alleged that company could have done more to prevent the shooting. Screenings and background checks are reportedly required by the rules of the complex, but that rule was not being consistently followed. 

An attorney for Andrae's family told reporters that the lack of background checks is what led to a known drug dealer living in the complex. The family believes said drug dealer was involved in the shooting. A jury agreed with Andrae's family, and they were subsequently rewarded the $12 million. 

Still, Andrae's loved ones hope that those involved in his murder will be brought to justice. Unfortunately, Andrae's murder is considered a cold case. If you have any information that could help the investigation, please contact Albuquerque Crimestoppers at 505-843-STOP. 

[pfhwrittes]

Snippet of 'That Time I Fell into Another World and Found Out the Video Game I Only Know Exists Because Of Sleep Token Is Real and Saved One of My Favorite Characters But Then They All Read the Smut I've Written and Saved on My Tablet About Them and Now I Want to Die' (yes that is the whole ass title,)

Rough Draft

When you wake up in the hospital (at least you hope it's a hospital) everything feels gross and just ew. From your greasy hair and itchy scalp to your somehow both oily and ashy skin. The cannula in your nose that you can feel go into your stomach to feed you. Your mouth that is sour cotton. The sticky leads on your chest that connect to the EKG that's beeping your heartbeat. The feeling of glue and stitches on your abdomen from the gunshot (OH LORD YOU HAD BEEN SHOT) wound. The weird compression device that is massaging your calves in a way that makes you think of how a butcher massage meat while cutting it. Honestly though the biggest discomfort is the damn catheter and plastic IV tube in your hand. You desperately want to rip them out but can't. Cracking open your eyes and lord the crusties along your lash line makes you want to gag.

Next to the non-stabbed with an IV tube hand is the bed remote along with the nurse bell. Pressing it desperately hoping the nurse will come soon because the feeling of gross is just overwhelming.

Looking around the room your eyes settle on a familiar blue cap. Oh. Oh no it was real. The cap is pulled low over his eyes arms crossed legs spread, god he is beautiful. He seems to have heard you waking as a small smile spreads across his face.

"morning visitor from another world."

"how." Swallowing trying to keep your voice from cracking. "How do you know that?"

He looks up and when your eyes meet you want to fall into them. The video game didn't do him a lick of justice. Self-conscious with how much you must look like a warm pile of shit. Why do you have to be in such a sorry state when you're meeting one of the prettiest men alive? What deity did you piss off to be cursed like this?

"your laptop." He popps the p lingering on the letter as horror blooms in your chest. "And e-reader were surprisingly easy to crack. Was a bit surprised to see ourselves as video game characters not to mention those stories." He purrs the last sentence and nope this is worse than your sorry state. "those stories are a treasure pet. What nasty little things you are desperate for us to do to you." His eyes gleam with a tricksters light.

Oh fuck, you really wish the truck has killed you now.

HEY FOLLOWERS COME GET SOME FRESH WIP WEDNESDAY STUFF FROM THE WONDERFUL STIGGY of @stigandr-the-cat FAME! (that includes you @mortuarywriting!)

stiggy i LOVE this whole concept and i'm beyond honoured that you decided to share it with me! i'm hooked and jeeeesus i am DYING from the second hand embarrassment already.

[gayandbifiremenofmine]

I do agree that gun violence is an issue but I just wanted to watch my WEEWOO show......

[please-picturemeintheweeds]

I think I appreciate that she communicates directly to fans during shows the way she does (about many things, but pride month currently). It makes sense to me that she wouldn’t want to post much on social media, and a valid criticism of 2020 activism generally was how it became ~trendy~ to post about everything. I ran a social Justice social media page for a nonprofit at that time and it became very meaningless and soul sucking, especially when I was able to start living my activism in different ways in my real life and quit working for the nonprofit industrial complex. I haven’t been on anything other than tumblr in basically 2 years, and my activism is much different than it was before. Not that she’s necessarily avoiding posting for the same reasons as me, but I don’t think it’s okay to expect celebrities to put their every belief down in writing for public dissection in an increasingly hostile virtual world. And she should be able to choose how she uses social media without it being tied inherently to her politics. She has reach, and she is using that power to talk about it on stage to sold out stadium shows. And it seems likely that news/magazines will cover the gist of what she says. I also think there’s something to be said about her and her crowds safety. Posting something that can be instantly shared with anyone and that would enrage homophobic and transphobic potential mass shooters prior to announcing where her and 70k of her closest friends will be every night for months also seems like a fair safety concern. It’s just complicated!

[weary-minds]

Ahah, so the ableist mental health care provider saga continues! This time featuring my therapist instead of my old pych; she decided to make a comment about my autistic brother who was in an accident last month. "This is the brother with autism?" "Yeah, he's autistic." "At least he was smart enough to call 911, imagine if he wasn't. :)" Thanks for equating high-supports needs autistics with stupidity. Funny, now I know why she said she doesn't allow people to record her sessions. This was right after suggesting I shoot my own dog because she's old, by the way. Gotta love the healthcare system.

[sociieties]

@shinanai: last  kiss. akiangel

usually aki listens to him. even if it's followed by useless mumble and grumble over his own grievances, usually aki listens to him. maybe that's why angel feels the way he does when aki ignores the suggestion to quit while he's ahead. feels irritated when aki goes to makima anyway in search of — what was it again? he doesn't remember. can't remember too much of anything after the fact, just that the last independent thought before this was that he was going to kill makima for making him slaughter all those people all those years ago. that damned devil, the way she uses him like a dog and yanks his chain all the same, most things after that goes black and when he comes to, there's blood, and bullets, and casing everywhere. aki's there, too. it's not just aki, either, but makima and a number of other devils / fiends / humans or whatever she had up her sleeve, but none of that mattered the moment angel spotted aki, lying there covered in, and coughing up blood. how quickly it hits him, tears welling up in otherwise listless eyes as he's beside aki before he knows it. there's no thought to how blood falls from his own body, nothing on half-missing wing or the way the taste of his own blood in his mouth and the overwhelming smell of it surrounding him, takes him back just a few weeks — just takes him back centuries — and his mind fills with complicated thoughts so quickly that suddenly it all falls to a deafening silence. he's dying / aki's dying / he's dying and angel's heart feels as if it would crack in two. it's the anger that keeps it from happening. the rage in the situation, for makima, for that damned gun devil, that he, himself, had nothing to do with the fact that his most precious devotee was bleeding out from the hand of another. the fact that his love was dying because of another; the frustration takes root in angel's very being ——— if he can't be the one to start this, then he'll be the one to end it. mercy / angel's enemy. …  you’re not as cruel as you   -   want to seem. aki once told him; angel said to not say that, but no matter how much he tries to deny / deny / deny, it's still the truth. for aki, from this, killing him will be a mercy. a blessing. " aki ——— " angel manages to rasp out, voice cut into by the wind and how it carries off sound and smell elsewhere. he's sorry. he's sorry — he promised.

the hovering doesn't last too much longer, not when he's heavy with the guilt and rage and sorrow over everything. how could he black out? without his arms, the ability to balance himself fails him, but what wrecks it all is it blown off wing, the other full of bullet wounds and pathetically, angel all but falls uselessly beside aki. just how useless could he be? all devil and all angel, all the more capable and still bested by whatever disaster that had stuck. allowing this to happen to aki was a betrayal of the highest regard. maybe his sin was caring for aki to begin with. humans are so weak and pathetic / they deserve to die in pain. not aki, though. he doesn't deserve to die, not yet. not in pain. not by someone other than angel. they promised / no contract, but something greater than that. he swallows thickly, a mixture of his own blood and saliva falling down his throat much harder than ever and after mustering the remaining strength in his body, angel manages to pull himself closer to slowly dying human. " aki... " it's all he manages to get out, sorrow and regret choking out all other words. the last time he touched aki, angel shaved off two whole months of aki's already very short life. if only he hadn't, maybe this wouldn't be happening here and now. this is just the sort of thing that happens when he touches people, prone to only ruining everything and killing all chances of anything great. no matter how strongly or weakly, aki breathes now, it won't change the fact that today will be the day he dies. the least angel could do would be to speed up the process. he ruins everything he touches. what greater mercy than the last thing to touch aki be to angel? what greater blessing than a kiss? what greater sin? if he cannot heal him, then he will kill him, wanting to no longer see aki suffer like so, still heaving between each coughing fit that only brings more blood and angel's not blind to the way it only adds to the additional pain from move in general. how many times did aki get shot, anyway? angel doesn't want to know. he doesn't want to think anymore, instead closing his mind as he leans in and licks aki's blood off of his lips. the small amount of it does little to nothing to heal angel, but one if his own wings begins to mend itself despite that not being the intention. sorry, i'm sorry he thinks as he presses his lips against aki's. it's a pitiful attempt at best, inexperienced at kissing for a number of reasons, but having seen the action done on few ( very few ) occasions through one thing or another. if he cannot touch aki with his hands — still uselessly without his arms — then he will kiss the human. do it to express all that'd been left unsaid, unexpressed for all this time and out of everything to come to mind, angel only thinks back to when aki sat him in the bath and so carefully cleaned copious amounts of blood off of him oh-so carefully while he, himself, sat there only capable of staring off into space. that'll never happen again. his first kiss / it's short, complicated, and full of blood and dying breaths. it's aki's ——— first? he doubts it, but definitively the last one. why did he have to be human, so inexplicably fragile? " i'm sorry... "

[hotfinalgirl-archive]

bye why amc give me active shooter training but not my other job where literally yesterday there was a man w an assault rifle on the property LMFAO

[destielmemenews]

"A Secret Service agent spotted a rifle barrel sticking out of fence and “engaged” with the suspect, Palm Beach County Sheriff Ric Bradshaw said at a news conference late Sunday afternoon. The gunman was 300 to 500 yards away from Trump, a Secret Service official said. Law enforcement found an AK-47 style rifle, GoPro and backpacks where the suspect was positioned, Bradshaw said."

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[stuhde]

i had shared what is happening in sudan on a long facebook post last night, but it virtually received almost little to no engagement or shares from the nearly 600 “friends” i have on the site.

this morning, my great-aunt was shot by the soldiers fighting for power, and God forbid, i lose more of my family members before eid this friday.

please read below to understand what is happening and how you can help my country. i hope the tumblr community can show more kindness than the lack of support and advocacy i’ve seen elsewhere.

يا رب اجعل هذا البلد آمناً 🇸🇩

the lack of awareness and advocacy from the African, Arab, and Muslim diaspora and the human rights community has been painful.

while Western media has done little to no coverage of the ongoing conflict in the capital city of my motherland, Sudan, it appears that the rest of the world also partakes in normalizing crimes and violence against SWANA people.

violence and war hurting the SWANA region are NOT ordinary occurrences — no one, regardless of race, creed, ethnicity, religion, and gender, should experience the unprecedented amount of violence that harms my two living grandmothers, aunts and uncles, and baby cousins who live in Khartoum.

your decision to ignore reading or educating and discussing with others about what is likely to be a civil war is complicity in viewing SWANA people as individuals who regularly experience conflict and are undeserving of help.

the silence is damaging, and it is up to us as privileged members of the diaspora (or individuals living in the Western world committed to human rights) to support the people of my country and their dream for a stable, democratically elected government.

what is happening in Sudan is a fight that started on April 15 between two competing forces for power — the Sudanese Army and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) — neither groups are representative of the needs of our people. The Sudan Army is loyal to the dictator, Omar Al-Bashir, and the RSF is responsible for the genocide in Darfur.

with both power struggles backed by different Arab and Gulf nations, the two parties have been fighting for power for the last few years. While they worked together to try and end the people’s revolution, they lost. however, they are now in a constant power play of who will get to rule the nation.

this all means that war is NOT a reflection of my country — violence does not represent the SWANA people. Sudan is a nation of beautiful culture, strong women, intellectual and influential Islamic scholars, poets, and youth at the front lines of the revolution. we are a people committed to a region of peace for ourselves and the rest of the Ummah.

my family and the rest of Sudan’s innocent civilians are at the most risk, with many currently without drinking water, food to eat, electricity, and complete blockage to any mosques during the final nights of Ramadan, our holiest month of the year.

i ask that you please keep Sudan and our people in your prayers — donate to the Sudan Red Crescent or a mutual aid GoFund Me, email your representatives if you live in a country that can put pressure on either competing force of power, discuss this with your family and friends, and please do not forget to think about SWANA people — our brothers and sisters in Syria, Yemen, Lebanon, and many others need our love and support.

الردة_مستحيلة ✊🏾

#KeepEyesOnSudan

[writing-for-whoever-listens]

Dark Romance Prompts:

"I don't think it's smart to go with them." "Good thing I'm not asking for your opinion, then."

"I love you." "That's all? Darling, I would destroy the world for you if you asked, love doesn't begin to cover it."

"Stop! You're killing them!" "They hurt you, it's what they deserve."

"Should we be doing this? What if we get caught?" "I won't let that happen."

"I need you to be safe. Please be safe." "I'll be fine."

"I can't exist without you." "I'm sure you could." "I would cease to exist if you left."

"What are you doing? It's late." "I'm planning out our deaths."

"You mean everything to me." "I love you, too."

"How did you find me?" "I memorized the streets you frequent in case something like this happened."

"I want you to stay here, with me." "I..." "It would mean so much to me if you stayed."

"I don't want you to touch me!" "You'll get over that soon enough."

"You expect me to care about you when you kidnapped me? Go to hell!" "It was for your own good, it had to be done!"

"I keep thinking about it. The kiss, I mean." "Do you want to do it again?"

"Put the gun down, sweetheart. You don't even know how to shoot it." "I'm about to find out."

"I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry. Please, talk to me."

"They're not a bad person! Just because they aren't a saint doesn't mean they're the devil!"

"I want to stay." "Do you mean that? You tried that last time, and it didn't end well." "I mean it."

"Who was that?" "Oh. A friend of mine." "Just a friend?"

"Isn't this wrong?" "What? Breaking the law? Depends on if you find it wrong. I don't."

"At least try to look like you're having fun." "With you? Fat chance."

i'm not a big reader in this genre, so i hope these are what you wanted, anon! it was fun to do <3

[draw-the-squad-like-this]

Draw your OCs like this

[incorrectbatfam]

I headcannon that this shotgun^ Jason randomly took home is the very same one Alfred uses all the time.

I also wanted to share Jason with a 12 gauge double barrel shotgun lol.

the 80s comics are killing me with how little Jason we got. It was like 10ish issues post crisis.

In a different continuity it went a little more like this:

[yonemurishiroku]

I don’t understand. Rick implanted that demigods can’t use electronic devices since it exposes them to the monsters. He didn’t say anything about guns.

I’m serious. You built a catapult but you can’t build a gun? C’mon. Give them a gun. Or those cannon thingies in the pirate ships. Maybe make bullets from celestial bronze or something.

Give Will a gun and let’s me see how Tartarus fares.

[call-me-maggie13]

My late 40s to early 50s boss just asked what’s wrong with 18-25 year olds these days

And as a 21 year old all I could think was

The world has been on fire since we were born and we’ve been told the adults are putting it out and now we’re old enough to realize they’ve been pouring kerosene on the flames instead of water.

Before my first birthday, 9/11 happened and the world wouldn’t let us forget it. When I was 6 years old, on September 11th, my teacher sat us down in front of a tv and showed us footage of 9/11 and then told us we weren’t allowed to cry. She said that it was real and those were real people jumping from the building because jumping was a faster death than burning.

When I was 7 years old, the economy collapsed and my family went from lower middle class to poverty, we went from healthy home cooked meals every night to mac and cheese and beans for weeks in a row. We started skipping holidays because mom and dad couldn’t keep the lights on and buy us new toys. We started wearing clothes and shoes until they fell apart.

When I was 11 years old, Sandy Hook was attacked by a grown man with a gun and 26 children and teachers were brutally murdered. My teachers never looked at us the same and I haven’t felt safe in a school since. After that, once a month we would have active shooter drills and we were taught to fight and cause as much damage as possible if an armed man entered our classroom because it gave other classes a few extra seconds to escape, it gave our siblings a few extra breaths of safety. We were taught to cover ourselves in other students blood and play dead if we weren’t hit, we were taught that we weren’t safe and we wouldn’t be safe as long as we were in school.

When I was 15 years old, my high school art teacher locked us in the classroom and told us if we heard gunshots we should line the desks up lengthwise so that they reached the other wall because that would be harder to break through than a barricade. She told us that she knew about the threats and she wouldn’t judge any of us that wanted to leave. She told us to get our siblings and stay in the buildings as long as possible, to duck in between the cars so we couldn’t be seen until we got to ours. She told us about the trail behind the auto shop that was lined with trees and led off campus. I got my brother and his friends and we left, we spent the day sitting on the floor in my living room waiting for a phone call that the people we left behind were dying.

Two weeks later, one of my friends dragged me out of a football game and forced me to go home with him. He grabbed my brothers and my best friend and forced the six of us into a two seater car before he would tell us anything. His mom worked for the school board and had told him the police found an active bomb under the bleachers in the student section, and they weren’t informing anyone because they didn’t want to incite panic.

When I was 16 years old, ISIS set off a bomb at a pop concert in Britain and killed 22 people, injuring at least 100 more. The next day at school, our teachers went over how to stay safe if we ever experienced something like that. They told us the most important thing to remember was to not remove any shrapnel because it could be keeping us from bleeding out, they said it was more important to get yourself out safely before you worried about anyone else.

When I was 18 years old, my teachers stopped teaching and put the news up on the projector and we watched as the Notre-Dame burned. The boy I had sat next to since second grade spent the entire day trying to call his sister who was studying abroad in Paris, I watched this kid I had never even seen frown fall apart in English because she wouldn’t pick up the phone. We didn’t know it at the time, but she was okay.

Six months later, my history teacher put the news on the projector again for another fire. This time, we watched as an entire continent burned for three months. We watched their sky turned orange from the smoke and their wildlife drowned in pools because they were trying to escape the heat.

When I was 19 years old, the whole world shut down because of a global pandemic. I didn’t meet a single new person for eight months, despite the fact that I had just moved across the country. I watched as people didn’t wear masks and spread it to everyone around them, I was so scared when I went back to my room every night because my roommate was immunocompromised and I was terrified I would give her Covid and kill her.

Just two months later, I watched a video of a black man being murdered by police officers. I watched the world around me explode after George Floyd’s death, people destroying businesses and police stations. I watched some of my friends realize police officers didn’t exist to keep them safe, they existed to keep the people in power in power. I learned that some of the people I had grown up with would rather watch a black man die than admit that maybe, maybe, the system was broken.

When I was 20 years old, I went to the mall with a friend to buy a birthday present and I was pulled to the ground by a twelve-year-old girl after gunshots went off in the mall. I held this child’s hands as she cried for two hours until we were evacuated by police, and then I waited with her outside and helped her look for her mom. I gave her my phone to call her mom and I watched as she called the number over and over and never got a reply. I waited with her until a police officer took her to the station to try to find out more information about the girl’s mom, I hugged this girl I had never seen before and I wished her the best. I never found out what happened to her or her mom, it keeps me up at night sometimes worrying that this little girl was orphaned.

When I was 21 years old, I started working at a daycare and exactly a week later, Uvalde happened and I found myself crying because my students are the same age those kids were. When they came in after school the next day, one of them had asked me if I had heard about Uvalde and I told her I had, I asked her if she was scared of going to school because of it. Her reply broke my heart. “We practice for it every week so that when it happens to us, we know what to do. I’m just worried that the shooter is going to start in my baby sister’s classroom and not mine.” I listened as other students with younger siblings agreed with her, one of them saying “I would take fifty bullets, if I had to to keep my little brother safe.”

Early this year, I watched Russia launched bombs into Ukraine, blowing up churches and schools and hospitals and apartment buildings. I watched as the estimated death count rose from the hundreds to the thousands to the tens of thousands. I watched men send their wives and children to bordering countries for refuge while they stayed behind to fight, knowing they would probably never see each other again.

Just four months ago, I watched as my right to medical privacy got taken away. I watched my old roommate fall apart because she was denied the right to have her dead fetus removed from her body for almost two days, I worried every time I looked away from her that the next time I saw her would be in a casket. I watched as the women around me realized the military-grade weapons that had torn children in classrooms apart were protected by the government but our bodies weren’t.

There is nothing “wrong” with my generation, we’ve experienced all these things as children and were expected to respond with patriotism for a country that continuously sacrificed their children for the “right” to military-grade weapons, that took away my freedom of choice. We are tired, we were told the world was a wonderful place then shown, at every step, how the world was a place of destruction and pain. And we are angry. We are angry because no one but us seems to be trying to fix anything. And we are scared. We are scared because our children, our nieces and nephews, our cousins and our friends children are growing up in a world that won’t protect them.