Gun Mention - Tumblr Posts
Introducing Violet Death, the most terrifying teenage gunwitch in the whole West. Her truth bullet will make you spill your guts-- in both senses of the phrase.
'𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃'
Send one of the symbols for a starter based on the prompts. Send a symbol + ↻ to reverse action. Trigger warnings for sickness, injuries & violence do apply
ღ receiver is found with a bullet wound by sender ♛ receiver has a high fever and needs help from sender ♒︎ receiver is terminally ill and has to say goodbye to sender during their last day ❀ receiver admits to sender they are pregnant, after feeling nauseous for days ♎︎ receiver gets hit by a car in front of sender ✰ receiver has passed out and sender finds them ☏ receiver calls sender to ask for help in a medical emergency ☙ receiver gets beaten up by robbers and is found by sender ☀ receiver has a mental breakdown and sender tries to comfort them ☘ receiver has a miscarriage and tells sender about it ✉ receiver suffers from amnesia and sender tries to help spark their memory ☁ receiver has been in a coma for months and finally wakes up in the presence of sender ♦ receiver has the flu and sender takes care of them ✵ receiver and sender meet at as patients on a psychic ward ꃼ receiver has experienced domestic violence and seeks refuge with sender ➤ receiver has been stabbed and sender finds them ➶ receiver has been the victim of experiments and is freed by sender ☓ receiver has developed supernatural powers that they struggle to control in the presence of sender † receiver dies in sender’s arms
❛ Conserve your ammo. Goes faster than you think. Especially at target practice. ❜ congrats gregory you got your gun 🎉
THE WALKING DEAD SEASON ONE SENTENCE STARTERS
★ — Before Michael can even finish his introductory warning, the kid is scoffing and rolling his eyes. Off to a great start!
"You're acting like I don't know how to use a gun. Orphan, remember? FEDRA school? They teach us how to do stuff like this, that's the whole point of keeping us around."
Small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, he leans forward onto the rock that Michael's situated them behind for the purpose of target practice. Straight ahead is an empty can of food. Gregory squints to narrow his focus, flicks the safety off, pulls the trigger, and —— fires.
He misses completely.
"Shit. Wait — I can do better than that, hang on!"
Hi! (:
I want to make some character designs based on the Wild West genre, and wanted some practice drawing weapons for it. This one is inspired by Quincy Morris, from Dracula, because I was bored.
Critique is welcome, and I hope you have a nice day!
A ‘Cat-napping’
(Prompt by @autocrats-in-love : The hero stared at the villain with fire in their eyes. The villain feigned innocence, raising their eyebrows in surprise./“What brings you to my home?” The villain asked with fake confusion./“Give. Me. My. Cat. Back.” The hero said, loading their gun.)
Pistachio was missing.
Hero knew it from the second they entered the too-quiet apartment, hanging up their keys as an uneasy feeling settled over them. There was no ‘meow’ to greet them, no paws pattering against the floor to come demand their afternoon meal.
Pistachio would never miss a meal.
The hero did not even need to glance at the note left on the kitchen island. They knew exactly who was responsible. They also knew that there would be hell to pay for this egregious act of feline abduction.
They grabbed their gun from the bedroom safe and checked to make sure it was loaded.
One busted down door later, and the hero stared at the villain with fire in their eyes. Villain feigned innocence, raising their eyebrows in surprise.
“What brings you to my home?” They questioned with insincere confusion.
Hero was in no mood to play pretend.
“Give. Me. My. Cat. Back.” The hero ordered, pulling back the slide of their pistol with a click and chambering a round.
Villain stiffened in their chair, casual features flashing with fear at the hero’s abrupt action.
“I hope you’re here to negotiate-“
The cold metal of the barrel dug into the underside of the criminal’s chin, effectively shutting them up. Hero had been on them in a second, and it was clear they would be pulling no punches today.
“I’m here to do no such thing. Where is he?” The deadly-serious hero demanded.
Villain didn’t speak, but their eyes betrayed them, flicking to the doorway that led out of the living room and into a separate common space. Hero abandoned the fearful villain in favor of locating their furry companion.
The room they entered was…not what they expected. Perhaps they had imaged their feline son would be caged in a dingy basement, fed only the driest of cuisine, and endlessly yowling to be saved.
Instead, they laid eyes on a pet-lovers dream. A gigantic cat tree covered one wall, blurring the line between tree and straight up castle. On a lower branch, some kind of brush-plus-laser-pointer contraption could be seen.
Villain entered the room behind them, but stepped back when Hero threw them a glare that had them thinking it might be time to start picking out headstones.
Against another wall sat a grand purple cushion, complete with a tasseled canopy. Across from that bed sat a litter box that would be better described as a beach. The rest of the scratchable-looking carpet was littered with pet paraphernalia, feathers and small plush mouses galore.
Pistachio, in all his glory, sat unbothered at the bottom of a cardboard box sitting on the floor in the center of the extravagant set up.
Hero immediately rushed to his side.
There was no mistaking his trademark-white-fur-mustache, standing out against the sleek black that covered the rest of his body. He gazed up at the hero with wide-green eyes, not a worry in the world about being cat-napped and held for ransom.
When Hero scooped him up into their arms, gun long forgotten, he purred easily.
“Come on, Pistachio. Let’s get you home.”
As they pushed past the gobsmacked villain to exit the house, they muttered a threat that shall not be repeated.
Villain didn’t dare pet a hair out of place on Hero’s cat ever again.
"I realized," A voice full of nothing but malice had spoken out. The noise bouncing off the walls of the open but old building.
"At first, I didn't go all out. Because I saw you, as the same as me. A living person. But then, I started to see you as a feral animal; something I need to put down for everyone's own good. And with that mindset, I thought, why not make it a little game to get some enjoyment out of it too?"
Person A hid themselves behind one if the many large cement pillars, listening to these words being told to them carefully.
"If I had gone all out before, you'd already be six feet under, you know."
A's breathing began to pick up; their heart feeling almost as if it was about to burst from their chest. The blood rushing in their ears was becoming so loud it was hard to hear their own thoughts.
"You're-" A had begun to speak up finally, unable to keep themselves quiet any longer as they heard these sick words coming from their enemy. But almost immediately, a gun had been fired. Rubble from the pillar went flying as a bullet had implanted itself near where A was.
A quickly had ran off in the opposite direction the bullet had come, while also trying to be as quiet and cautious they could be. The large building they were in luckily had a few big supply cars they could hide themselves behind temporarily.
Daringly, A just barely peeked out behind the cars to see if they could see their rival stalking around, like a predator searching for their prey.
But, nothing. They didn't see nor even hear anyone or anything else. That made them only more paranoid.
After a moment of observing around in hopes they'd see something, they realized. Their eyes widened before they turned to look ahead of them.
That's when they found themselves staring down the barrel of a gun.
"Found ya. You know you really have to be more careful when trying to hide in a place like this."
A knew they wouldn't be able to run, not without sustaining an injury at the very least and that would only slow them down while trying to escape this sickening place.
So, the next option was to fight. At least buy themselves some time to get far enough away.
They grabbed at the gun's berral and pulled. They didn't expect the other to let go to easily, which is what they were counting on.
The sudden pull had caused their opponent to stumbke forward. They were close enough so that A could land a decent punch against them.
Though, when they had landed the punch, to their horror, they realized that it was a lot weaker than they were hoping. And that's when they noticed the blood that stained their hand. When did that happened? What was even the source of the crimson blood?
"You didn't realize?" Their opponent said with a chuckle, seeing A's expression had changed.
A looked at their hand befire trailing their eyes further and further up their arm.
Then they finally noticed the open wound in their shoulder. Did that happen back at the pillar? They thought that the cement was the only thing that was his. They assumed that the rushing adrenaline burning in their veins must have masked the pain of the injury.
A slowly turned their attention back up at the enemy before them. A cruel smile plastered on their expression.
"I'll give you to the count of three. Then, I'll let you try and escape again. Lets see how long it takes before you drop."
This was all just some sort of sick game they were trapped within, wasn't it?
Concept
A giant, marble-tiled library. Me, in a flowing, floor-grazing black dress. Her, in a bright floral jumpsuit. Clinging to my arm, her eyes flick hungrily between the scattered red dots on Bond's chest and the cluster on his forehead. I step forward. "This had to happen, 007." I take a slip of paper from a guard, and recite a list of all the laws and treaties broken by Bond over the decades. The young woman behind me sniffs and straightens her back after I read Incident #87. "My mother was in there, you useless-" Shaking with rage, she doesn't finish her sentence. When the list is finished, the room feels colder. Emptier. "Any last words?" She says, breaking the silence. Bond brushes the dirt off his face. "Tell Q I said hello." The woman nods at the guards, contempt in her eyes. ... As the gunshots still echo, his body falls to the ground with a clatter. It's finally over. Roll credits.
you should kill yourself 😘
I'm going through my asks and this is like the sixth one of these.
Bub, I've already tried that, several times. It didn't work! Sorrryyyyy. G*ns are banned in my country too so I don't have any quick, effective options. Most of the methods I've tried are a little too slow and messy, people realise what's going on before it works.
If you have any suggestions I would appreciate them :)
Besides, whyyyy do you want me dead? is this over the mango chicken? I can explain.
🤣🤣🤣
Jason: hey Tim, can I ask a quick question?
Tim: Shoot.
Jason, panicking, pulling out a gun: Shoot at what?
Tim, sleep-deprived, interpreting that as Jason's question: uhh, i guess, maybe that vase?
Jason, who has seen weirder things than an evil vase: got it.
-
Bruce, days later: ...what happened to my mother's vase?
Steph: Tim and Jason's brain cells cancel eachother out.