#Semi-automatic weapons | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tomorrowusa · 3 months

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This is the Texas of Greg Abbott and Ted "Cancún" Cruz where kids get less consideration than guns.

If police had been told that the school library contained books about slavery or LGBTQ+ acceptance at the Robb Elementary School in Uvalde they would have barged in with guns blazing instead of spending over an hour playing with themselves outside the school while kids were being murdered by yet another gun nut.

The long-awaited report detailed systemic failures by both state and local law enforcement surrounding the massacre, one of the worst school shootings in US history, including the events that contributed to the 77-minute delay between the arrival of first responders and when the shooter was killed. “The victims and survivors should’ve never been trapped with that shooter for more than an hour as they waited for their rescue,” Attorney General Merrick Garland said during a Thursday press conference discussing the contents of the report. “The families of the victims deserved more than incomplete, inaccurate, and conflicting communications from officials of their loved ones.” [ ... ] The report, based on a review of more than 14,000 pieces of data and more than 260 interviews, also directly called out Uvalde Consolidated Independent School District Police Department officials, including former police chief Pete Arredondo for instructing officers not to enter some classrooms until keys had been secured. While the police response to the shooting has been heavily criticized, it’s important to note that the Texas GOP has been blocking gun safety legislation that could’ve potentially stopped this shooting from occurring.

Among Texas Republicans, the right to conduct school shootings is revered and is enshrined in the sacred 2nd Amendment. Police in Texas have to be careful not to offend the gun-worshiping GOP establishment.

The Department of Justice report can be read in its entirety below.

Critical Incident Review Active Shooter at Robb Elementary School

We already know what a horrible tragedy this was. Reading about the lack of professionalism, gross incompetence, and outright cowardice of Texas law enforcement will make your blood boil.

Republican governors like Greg Abbott want to force women to have babies by denying them reproductive freedom. But once those kids are born they are of little interest to Republicans.

#school shootings #mass shootings #texas #republicans #robb elementary school #uvalde #2nd amendment #semi-automatic assault weapons #department of justice report on uvalde #election 2024

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kp777 · 9 months

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#semi-automatic weapons ban #illinois supreme court #gun laws

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benandstevesposts · 1 year

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Two Oklahoma County Sheriff's Departments Say They Are Refusing To Enforce A DOJ Rule - One Which Could Save Police Officers Lives And Be Another Hindrance To Those Planning Mass Shootings.

In the announcement, the DOJ said they have put requirements on short-barreled rifles since the 1930s because “they are more easily concealable than long-barreled rifles but have more destructive power than traditional handguns.”

The announcement was made on January 13. It said when someone uses “stabilizing braces to convert pistols to rifles with a barrel less than 16 inches … they must comply with laws that regulate those rifles, including the national firearms act.”

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slimethought · 9 months

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#Thought Slime #Black Lives Matter #Kyle Rittenhouse #Spree Killer #Semi automatic weapon #wrongful execution #sponsorship #misinformation #dog whistle #Kenosha #Law and Order #Ryan Balch #Boogaloo Boys #Richard Spencer #do your own research #fascists #militia

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ghoul-haunted · 9 months

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so i've figured out the crassus-spartacus issue with the republikang etc au, now I get to tackle the fun part, which is whether or not crasso shows up to a gang fight with a baseball bat or a hammer

#understand that if i was adhering to reality they'd all be armed with semi automatic weapons but im not going to do that #we're going for spectacular gorey disgusting violence #crasso killed the cops who killed spartaco and got away with it so. im thinking hammer #it's the 'walang home court sa'kin sasalpak kahit away' attitude #which. uh. that only applies to a certain point. my man did NOT have that home court advantage on an away game at carrhae

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kingofmyborrowedheart · 2 years

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Isn’t it fun how basically nowhere is safe because legislators would rather line their pockets than enact meaningful legislation that could put an end to gun violence????

#like every single mass shooting death since Colombine is on those legislators hands #like stand up to the nra you spineless cowards #every time you think it should have ended you would think it would’ve been enough to do something #but not even when it first happened when literal children were slaughtered were enough to force these spineless legislators to act #like it takes comprehensive mental health care/strict gun laws and policies not meaningless thoughts and prayers #I feel like everytime i hear about another mass shooting I’m numb to the news because it’s become so regular #and I shouldn’t feel that way because it’s not normal and it shouldn’t be #but republicans will bitch and whine about the second amendment which is about 1700s weapons and not semi-automatic ones #so legislators don’t do a damn thing #your right to carry around a weapon of mass destruction isn’t more valuable than my life or someone else’s fuck off #tw gun violence #tw mass shooting

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dandelion-idk · 11 months

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this is a warning if u play with me in the sheldon challenge and i get any type of charger/blaster and u are in my team please say your prayers this won't end well

#the only time I ever did decent with a charger was when I somehow did a trickshot with the gootuber back in splat 2...#oh boy are u excited to get defeated by people who randomly got their fave weapon #semi automatics aren't good for me either

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mensfrightsactivist · 1 year

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oh ok now they’re saying the nashville shooter they originally identified as female used he/him pronouns. and there’s no way to verify this because they killed the shooter on-site instead of allowing a court of law to decide the punishment

#forgive me if i’m skeptical but this absolutely reeks of opportunism #it’s a tragedy and it’s about to be used as anti trans propaganda #it’s not the semi automatic weapons readily available at walmart that’s the problem. it’s those damn tr*nnies. right?

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rocket-candy-heart · 2 years

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Not to make other people's personal tragedies about me, but I think a neighbor being murdered just down the block is making my anxiety worse

#its been a few days and the case is solved but the stupid and random nature of the crime is just stuck in my head #idk what to do abt teenagers on crime sprees w semi automatic weapons! like. i dont understand why ppl want to do that in the first place!

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handmedownpocketpussy · 3 months

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You know how white people use being scared as a weapon? All those videos of white women saying, "I called the cops because I felt like I was in danger" and how white guys have tiktoks about, "You need at least one semi automatic weapon close at hand at all times to defend your family" kinda shit?

That's what bothers me so much about watching fellow jews acting like just seeing a Palestinian flag or keffiyeh somehow automatically makes a place unsafe.

I mostly see it in US American jews posting about how they feel threatened by a Palestinian flag, or saying that anything referencing not wanting thousands and thousands of Palestinians to die is 'a call for jewish genocide'

Y'all. No. This tells me you have never interacted with a Palestinian or even the Muslim community at large. We diaspora Jews are not the victims here.

Your assimilation has ended on the path of weaponisation of your fears, which is not a great place to be.

If you honestly believe "The only safe place in the world for Jews is Israel" you've bought into someone fearmongering. I'm begging you to investigate why you bought that lie and who is benefiting from you buying it

#I'm tired of thinking i've found jewish community only to find people who are blinded by their unfounded fears and taught to hate #palestinians are our cousins not our enemies #jumblr #i've been blocked a lot so I doubt people who need to read this will see it but I will continue sending this message #is there antisemitism? you bet your ass!#however if you think saying palestinians shouldn't die and should have their state recognised is a antisemitic you've drunk the koolaid

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m-ayo-o · 4 months

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Can u do their hard limits for the nsfw🙏🏽 and love ur works🖤

ooh dear xx

jjk men : their hard limits in bed

includes many kinks mentioned or explicitly described !! EXPLICIT 18+ CONTENT

toji ⋆ kento ⋆ satoru ⋆ suguru x sub/switch afab reader

[tw: anal, threesomes, explicit knife play, gun play, pegging, predator prey, explicit cnc, gag, period sex mention, safe word use, explicit somnophilia, breath play mention, pet play, collaring, blindfold, bondage, choking, public toy use, degradation kink, slapping, spit kink, praise, humiliation, tail butt plug use]

Toji

He's filthy. Anything goes with this man. You think of the kinkiest shit you've ever heard? He's done it. Nothing will surprise him. When he was younger, in his twenties, he found himself getting totally obsessed with anal until getting in a girls' cute ass was all he could think of.

He soon found his love for pretty hard kinks- especially when women asked for it. He leaned into that roguish demeanour of his very heavily, and found so many girls who loved it. So much so that he nearly had to give Shiu a bigger cut of his pay just to deal with all the redirected booty calls. But they just ended up sharing a lot of the time anyway. They rarely shared meals and, in fact, their free time was often their own. But when it came to getting laid, especially with girls like you, they couldn't say no.

And later, with his extensive collection of weapons only growing, it only felt natural for him to tease his sweet love with them. When you went all wide eyed and gasped like that, grabbing at his thick and muscular wrist with a long, sharp blade pressed at your throat? His dick got fucking hard and he entered a whole new level of extreme kinks. Next up was his gun; a semi-automatic pistol that he'd use on his targets, then bring home and use to lift up your skirt. Again, it was your beautiful, fearful reaction that made him do it... he couldn't help but slide it between your legs and fuck you with it.

However, something that got his stomach churning in the worst way possible... was your bright idea to peg him. I mean, he said he was up for anything, and he has played around with anal stimulation. Sure, it was fun, but having his sweet girl strap a cock to her body and fuck him with it? It sent a shiver down his spine. He'd still fucking try it though.

Kento

His limit is tough to define. It's the moment that you ask him to do it harder and he does- it's when you tell him to get rough with you and he watches you struggle under him. It's more like an underlying discomfort than a limit. But because he is a patient and mature man, he will talk to you about it and you are given yet another opportunity to fall more in love with him.

The issue is more complex than 'i don't want to hurt you' - because he loves spanking you, he loves tweaking your pretty nipples till they're all sensitive and swollen, and he adores getting his hands on your body; grabbing you, squeezing you. And realistically, he wants to make you happy... he wants to make you feel good. But there's just something so deep in his psyche that tells him 'Kento, you could lose yourself' and he's petrified that one day he's going to take it too far.

For this reason, after your lengthy discussions on the subject, you have agreed that your husband will keep up the rough play as long as he feels comfortable, and that he is not going to engage in breath play anymore. He said his piece, set the boundary and, although you love his big hands around your throat, you understand why it scares him and you respect him wholeheartedly. You finish off this deep conversation with an even deeper love making session- this time keeping it slow and sensual.

Satoru

Consent. Consent and blood.

This man does not need any more blood on his hands. So, unless you're begging him to impregnate you, he may be quite averse to period sex.

He will play around with consent- but like any loving and respectful partner he will need a play by play of what you want him to do to you. He needs to know exactly what's off the cards... and what's on. Especially with his powers thrown into the mix- although he has them fine tuned, it still adds an extra element of danger (which you seem to like very much).

So he will play along with your sick little games of hide and seek that end with him teleporting right behind you and covering your mouth with his hand, with your excited giggles soon turning into screams. He honestly never knew playing with this boundary was so attractive, but when you look up at him with glossy, wet eyes telling him 'Satoru 's too much' or 'n-no I can't take it, wait, please-' it gets his dick so fucking hard it almost hurts. But none of that would be possible without your safe word- or sign if you're gagged (which is rare because he loves hearing your pretty voice even if all you can get out are soft whimpers of how big he feels inside you and that you want him to cum). He's used it a couple of times, and so have you.

But you're learning your limits and coming to understand each other very well, so much so that your use of the word is dwindling because he knows when something is actually too much and when you're just saying it. From the little movements in your body, those microexpressions; he sees every detail. He can feel it all.

And now he's started to enjoy this, you wanted to take it a step further. You were desperate to have him fuck you in your sleep. After you expressly asked him to wake you up with oral one time, he really wanted to try it. And it was so fucking hot he asked you to do the same for him- it's not like he never thought about it before. Waking up to a good dick sucking is any man's dream. But that you'd want to do it? God, he feels so lucky when he wakes up with his cock in your mouth. And the final step, when you fell asleep naked from your previous night's escapades after begging him to do it all again in the morning, he finally got his dick inside you. You were sleeping on your side, facing away from him, and he just edged up and started slowly fucking you open. It took much longer than usual and added to his arousal- he was trying to be patient so as not to wake you. And it worked. When he finally stuffed you full and started moving you woke up and the first noise you made was the most sensual fucking horny moan he's ever heard and he gets addicted.

But if there's ever any feeling in his gut that you're not enjoying what he's doing to you and that you actually want to stop... he will. Even if it's just a doubtful nag in the back of his head- a couple of times he has completely edged you because of the thought. But with your enthusiastic consent (impatient begging) he continues to get you off in whichever way you want.

Suguru

Now your lovely boyfriend Suguru is a real sweetheart. You can tell he'd do absolutely anything for you. Of course, he won't be taken advantage of, he's a smart man. But in the bedroom, if it's for your pleasure, he's in. And that includes your fantasies of having him collared and strapped up to the bed. He'll let you blindfold him, gag him, he likes it when you choke him- especially when he's about to cum, it makes the experience all the more dizzying. He's very open to anal play- he loves it when you use toys on him, vibrators, dildos, love eggs... even in public. But he is not your submissive and he likes to remind you of that, especially with the strength he holds in that muscular body of his. He loves restraining you and overpowering you, especially when you're getting a little too cocky and comfortable on top. He likes to slap your pussy as much as your face and he will spit on your tongue if you beg him for it. He loves being mean and crude to his girl, then suddenly switching to be the softest gentleman you've ever met.

However, with your fantasies getting a little out of control- with buying him a new collar, a lead, the cutest outfits to wear (his slight embarrassment added another level for you)- he became uncomfortable with one certain request. And yes, he'll admit he's been playing along- it's been very enjoyable and stimulating for him- the pleasure has been overwhelming at times. But with your new toy... a certain butt plug with a black fluffy tail attached... he wrinkles up his nose and turns you down. You took it too far. But, the idea comes to him that if you like it so much, why don't you use it? And soon enough he's got you on your knees licking cream off his boots with a collar round your neck and a tail up your ass. You didn't know it vibrated.

hcs | m.list

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help-itrappedmyself · 2 months

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Summoning Game Show 3

Masterpost

I got so inspired and had so much fun writing for part 2 I just kept going. I have determined that this 'fic' should be about 7 parts long total. And here's Part 3, because I'm enjoying the nonsense of this so much.

~~~~~

“Congratulations on successfully finishing the first challenge! You can make your way back to the main room to receive your clue.”

The screen changes once Nightwing is on the stage with them. It now shows what looks like a wheel of fortune puzzle. Three words, four letters, four letters, and seven letters.

“For your clue, you can choose a letter for the puzzle!” Danny explains. “Since there are four of you we will give you four letters automatically, and you each have the chance to earn an extra letter. For the freebies! E, the most common vowel in English.”

“Looks like no E’s in this puzzle.” Danny shrugs at the boys with a grin on his face. “For the next three letters, we have the three most common consonants: T, N, and S!”

“Three letters up, two N’s and one T.” Danny turns away from the screen to face Nightwing. “What letter would you like to choose?” Dick turns to look at Red and Jason “This portion is not collaborative.” Danny cuts in with a small frown, making everyone look back at him. “You earned the letter, you choose the letter. They only get to pick a letter after they’ve earned one.”

Nightwing grimaces slightly. “A?”

“A!” Danny turns back to the screen.

“One A!” Danny turns back. “The next challenge is a sword fight against Fright Knight! Who would like to sword fight?”

Damian very quickly raised his hand. Tim almost wanted to smack him, but as similar as a bo staff can be, and as much as he doesn’t want Damian in danger, Damian does have the most extensive sword training amongst them.

Danny takes Damian to pick out his sword. “I see that you have a sword already, but the fight is to first blood and you can’t harm Fright Knight with that sword, so that’s kind of unfair. We need to get you a weapon that will actually be able to hit your opponent.” They leave through a side door, but they leave it open so everyone can see all the weapon racks and Danny as he shows Damian around.

Tim leans towards Dick and Jason as Dick takes his seat in the middle chair. “Cool, so our weapons can’t actually hurt them, good to know. What exactly are we going to be asking the King at the end of this?”

“What do you mean?” Dick asks.

“I think he means that if we want to get back to our dimension we don’t want to piss off everyone here by wasting their time.” Jason spits out, sitting up and turning towards them. “They didn’t seem to take too kindly to that idea earlier.”

Dick winces and nods. “We could ask him to deal with the cult that brought us here.”

“What if he kills all of them?”

“Well, you clearly have an idea Red, why don’t you tell us instead of making us guess.” Jason complains.

“Diplomatic relations.” Red states. “New dimension, new culture. We’re here to learn, maybe we could ask to set up a meeting between the King and Batman, or the Justice League.”

“The whole point of this is to get a meeting, what do you think he’s going to do if we use this meeting to ask for a different meeting?”

“Jason has a point. Maybe we could just ask to set up a way to communicate between us?” Dick suggests.

“I have obtained a sufficient weapon.” Damian calls out as he and Danny approach. Danny comes up onto the stage, heading back to the podium, but Damian doesn’t waste his time going back up and instead waits by the short stairs for further instructions. He is holding a katana, similar to the one he is used to, but with a different grip and that is glowing.

“So, since you’re using a semi unfamiliar weapon, Fright Knight is not going to be allowed to use his Soul Shredder, just to make it fair. And just in case he draws first blood, we don’t want to accidentally send anybody to their nightmare dimension!” Danny chirps out cheerfully. “You will be fighting in here, just stay on the main floor and away from bystanders. Fight will immediately end at first blood, no maiming, no killing, no excessive force. No use of powers is permitted.”

Danny gestures to where Fright Knight is exiting the armory with a regular looking broadsword. “This is Fright Knight.” Fright Knight waves as he comes over, stopping next to Damian so they’re both standing beneath the stage.

“Are you both ready?” The two swordsmen take a few steps away from each other and take positions before nodding. “Begin!”

#batman #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #fanfiction #my writing #summoning game show #king danny phantom #fright knight #damian wayne #robin #red hood #red robin #tim drake #jason todd #nightwin #dick grayson #batfamily

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sleepingfancies · 2 years

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My dad made a point today speaking from experience that it is harder to get a license to hunt with a falcon aid than it is to buy a gun in this country

#personal #yes that is correct. it is more difficult and regulated to buy a hawk to help you catch squirrels--#--than it is to buy a semi-automatic military grade weapon

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greenglowinspooks · 6 months

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(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Prologue)

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Tw: Danny is having a Certified Bad Time™️, dissociation, vivisection mention, suicidal thoughts (kinda?), basically just heavy angst for now

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

Note: you don’t need to read this chapter to understand the rest of the story, it’s mostly just to explore Danny’s headspace when he first escapes the GiW

(Pt. 1)

(Subscription post/masterlist)

—

Danny rocked back and forth, trying to soothe himself as the truck he was in continued to speed along.

It had been an eternity since he was captured by the GiW. He didn’t know why they were moving him to a new base after all this time, but he knew it wasn’t a good thing.

Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel afraid.

He couldn’t feel much of anything these days. The GiW had a routine and they stuck to it religiously, and that routine had sucked every bit of Danny’s soul out of him.

Something churned in his chest regardless. Anticipation? Excitement, maybe?

Perhaps they were finally going to let Danny fade. Was that a bad thing? Danny couldn’t decide if it was or not.

He wasn’t scared of fading. It seemed inevitable, especially with how he was treated on the daily. He would stop hurting if he faded.

Still, he’d like to see Jazz and Tucker and Sam at least one more time before he does. That would be nice.

The truck continues forward, unmoved by Danny’s thoughts.

The sound is nice, Danny thinks.

The hum of the engine, the crackling of pebbles being crushed under the tires, the electrical buzz of the anti-ghost handcuffs and shield keeping him trapped.

The only sound Danny’s heard the last few years has been the clatter of metal tools, the crunching of bone, the sawing and thunking and squishing of surgery, the murmur of voices.

It’s nice to hear something new, Danny thinks.

Strange, but nice.

The truck stops again. Another red light, probably. Danny continues rocking back and forth, back and forth, like the ticking of a clock.

Seconds pass. Second after second after second.

Danny hears shouting now.

Gunshots crack outside, and Danny sees holes appear in the side of the truck.

That’s definitely new.

Chaos is erupting outside. There’s a lot of screaming, and frantic footsteps, and cars zooming away.

The driver door slams open and shut. The truck speeds off, tires screaming as the driver swerves erratically.

Danny is thrown back and forth in the back of the truck, bumping up against the many weapons and other miscellaneous inventions stored alongside him. Pain blooms in his head and chest, an agonizing heat lining his surgical wounds. Danny licks his lips underneath his muzzle. It would be nice if the driver was a bit better at their job, he thinks.

The truck continues careening wildly.

Danny counts the seconds.

Second after second after second.

After around two thousand, three hundred and seventy four seconds, the truck comes to a stop. Danny didn’t lose count this time. He’s proud of himself.

The driver door opens and closes yet again. There’s chatter outside, excitement clear in the voices that Danny hears. There’s lots of talk of “congratulations,” and “lucky that the Bat didn’t follow you here.”

Then, the back of the truck is opened. Danny hears noises of confusion and shock. He turns his head, looking to see what’s happened.

There’s several men at the door of the truck. They’re wearing black tuxedo suits—Sam was right, black really is such a pretty color—and they’re staring at him.

They begin talking among themselves. Something about them not knowing about a kid, and not knowing what to tell the boss. It’s confusing to him. It’s not what he usually hears spoken.

Then, one of them climbs up into the truck. He approaches Danny slowly, speaking in a calm voice. He’s asking Danny if he can stand, he realizes, asking him if he knows why he’s in the truck.

Danny just stares at the silver glint of the gun at the man’s side.

It’s a nice one, he thinks. Semi-automatic, with a few modifications to make the reloads smoother and the gunshots quieter. His fingers twitch. He’d like to poke at it a little, see if he could improve it any.

The man notices where he’s staring and curses. He takes the gun and lowers it to the floor. Danny just continues to stare.

Silver is an ugly color, he thinks. He much prefers black.

Silver is the color of stainless steel, the color of lab and surgical equipment.

He doesn’t like it much.

The man reaches out a hand and grabs Danny’s shoulder, shaking him gently.

After a moment, he sighs, and hoists Danny up, carrying him effortlessly. He hands him to one of the men outside of the truck, hopping down himself a moment later.

They’re warm, Danny realizes.

He curls further into the new man’s arms, closing his eyes. It’s nice, he thinks, being held like this. He hasn’t been held with such care in a long, long time.

The man sets him down on a crate.

After a moment Danny opens his eyes again, watching as the many black-suited people take things out of the truck. He counts the inventions in his head as they do so, beginning to rock again.

Then, a new man enters the room, and everyone freezes.

He’s congratulating them, asking them about their escape, and then he spots Danny.

Danny would very much like to be invisible right about now.

“Where did you get him?” He asks, tapping his umbrella against the floor.

“He was in the truck,” the man who carried him says, “we don’t know why.”

The stout man looks at him closely.

“How did you get into a government weapon shipment? Did someone put you in there?”

Danny nods his head. He tries to speak, but his voice cracks painfully underneath his muzzle.

“You- someone get that thing off his face,” he says. Several of the other men scurry off, probably looking for something that can break the muzzle, “can you speak?”

Danny shrugs. He tries to talk again, but it seems that his voice doesn’t want to cooperate with him. The only sound he can make is a painful, broken wheeze.

“Hey,” the man says, resting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, “if it hurts to talk, stop trying, alright? We’re gonna get that muzzle and those cuffs off, and then we’ll figure out why you were in there. You know how to write?”

Danny nods.

“Good,” the man responds.

“You two, get something to write with,” he barks to a few of the other suited men. They, too, run off.

A few people come up, carrying a bolt cutter and a few other tools with them. They make quick work of the muzzle and handcuffs, the restraints falling to the floor with a clattering sound.

Danny looks down at his hands. They’re shaking. Slowly, slowly, he brings them up to his face. Thin fingers brush up against cracked, dry lips. He’s fascinated by the sensation.

Someone brought him a mirror, he realizes.

That can’t be right, though. The person looking back at him…isn’t him. That isn’t Danny.

That face is not his face.

Their cheeks are far too thin and sunken, their eyes dull and haunting. They’re far too old as well, they look like a young adult.

Still, they move when he moves. They stare at him with a look of fascinated horror that’s far too familiar.

He brings his hand up to his head, and they follow his movements. He trails his fingers over the stitches in his head, and they do the same.

Danny tries to speak, but is cut off by a painful cough.

One of the men brings up a pencil and notepad. Slowly, shakily, Danny writes down a question.

“What year is it?”

The man who had spoken to him earlier quirked his eyebrow up. He answers, and Danny freezes in place.

“What’s wrong?”

Danny looks down at his hands again. He looks into the mirror. The stranger staring back looks horrified. They look sad. They look…like him.

Danny lets out a mournful keening sound. He curls up into himself, covering his face with his arms. Distantly, he’s aware of someone rubbing circles into his back. He cries harder, his entire body shaking.

Three years.

It’s been three years since he was captured, three years of being cut open and sewn back together. Three years of burns and cuts and chemical damage and electrical shocks.

Three years of torture.

Danny sobs, hands gripping the thin fabric of his medical gown like a lifeline. Three years.

Danny’s being lifted up again. He wraps his arms around the person holding him and wails into their shoulder. Everything is quiet.

“I’ll deal with the kid,” the man holding him says, “the rest of you, finish unpacking the truck and dump it somewhere that the Bat won’t connect to me.”

The man brings Danny through the building, still rubbing his back comfortingly. He’s humming some song that Danny doesn’t recognize, occasionally pausing to bark orders at people.

Danny’s beginning to calm down now. He’s still shaking, but his breathing is beginning to even out.

It’s been a long time since he’s felt alive enough to cry.

He feels exhausted.

Danny tries to hold onto consciousness for as long as possible, but he’s so tired, and so sad, and he’s being held, and he’s warm, and…

Danny’s eyes flutter shut.

—

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fic #vengeful danny #villain danny #girl help I fucking love angst HDJFNSKFJDJFJF #literally pouring milk on Danny and throwing him against the wall to hear the thunk #he is going THROUGH it #truly rip bozo #don’t worry he becomes less scared and more neurotic and terrifying soon

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mockerycrow · 8 months

Text

You’re Alive (Gaz x GN!Reader)

gaz masterlist - gazfest 2023 @glitterypirateduck

PROMPTS: “One-shot” + “Safe House” + “Let Me See You”

SUMMARY: After receiving a facial scar, you have been jumpy—Kyle is here to show you that’s it’s all okay.

A/N: Honestly, I’m not the happiest with this but I decided to stop being picky with it!! So I hope my contribution to gazfest is satisfactory <3

[WARNINGS: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, moderate descriptions of gore, allusion to PTSD.]

Your leg kept bouncing like whatever gnawing feeling in your gut wasn’t going to stop unless your leg was going a million miles per minute. The clock on the wall ticked every second oh so quietly, and it was overall silent aside from the ticking and your body squeaking. You felt like a live wire attached to a brick of dynamite, ready to explode at any given time—ready to kill whoever holds the brick. Despite it being an hour or two since you and Kyle arrived at the safehouse, you remain at the only window in the entire building. In your arms rests your rifle with your safety switched to “semi” for semi-automatic, like you’re expecting someone to come barreling in through the door, or come through the tree line.

Kyle doesn’t blame you for the way you have been acting, honestly. He knows you’ve been different since you got your facial scar a few months back—you were required to go through a psychological evaluation to be deemed fit for duty, and it’s moments like this where Kyle—guiltily—wonders how you passed “with flying colors”, so the doctor said. He doesn’t understand how the Captain hasn’t see your behavior either, or if he has, he hasn’t done anything about it. Kyle means well about all of this, too. He’s worried about you. He’s seen the way your eyes scan every room, the way you’re too ready to raise your weapon to kill, the way you snarl at anyone who is casually holding a knife outside of combat.. There’s so many signs pointing to something, a deeper problem, that he is wondering how the psychologist still has a job.

You’ve begun to wear a mask that obscures your face from your nose down.

You offered to take first watch—he notes that you’re like Ghost in that regard, you can’t calm down after a highly intense situation, so you gotta do what you gotta do, right? But the way you’re so.. jumpy, you keep jolting and looking at Kyle every time he shifts, making a slight noise?—that’s concerning. He’s used to Ghost’s incredible alertness, the way he doesn’t like his back faced to the door of the rooms he enters, Kyle is used to when Ghost sits in the far corner so he can see every inch of the room—but he was terrified when you began to do it, too. You’ve always been vigilant, sure, but you’re.. Something is very wrong.

Kyle watches from his spot on the ragged, torn couch that had to be taken from the curb in a nearby neighborhood. His own rifle is propped up against the couch, his pistol resting on the coffee table in front of himself. He watches the way your eyes flicker across the skyline, the puffy eyebags you have almost seem like they’re worsening by the moment. Kyle is also exhausted—you two have been traveling from safehouse to safehouse for about a week, trying to meet up with the rest of the task force.. With no support, of course.

He calls your name, and he makes a mental note of how your finger twitches closer to the trigger than before. “You need to rest.” He grunts out, pushing himself off of the couch. Kyle turns and grabs his rifle, holding the hefty weapon to his chest as he naturally copies your perfectly practiced pose. He looks up and looks at you—and you haven’t moved a muscle. “Hey, y’hear me?” Kyle voice is laced with concern as he takes his steps towards you, and he makes the mistake of tapping your shoulder—because suddenly he’s facing the silencer of your semi-automatic rifle. Cold panic shoots through his veins and his gut, his muscles going rigid as if he’s a deer in headlights. His eyes search for yours, locking eyes; and you’re out of it. He knew something was wrong.

“Oi,” Kyle speaks with the softest tone he can manage with a gun nearly pressing into the bridge of his nose. “Oi, it’s me. Gaz, mate. It’s Kyle.” Your eyes search his face desperately, and he’s silently begging for you to speak. The tension in his stomach is twisting and turning, threatening to snap—you show no signs of any recognization of him, someone who you have trusted for years by this point, someone who was the one to get your guts inside of your abdomen after an ambush, the one who held your face together after the attack—

Kyle does things before he thinks about it sometimes, and it seems to happen a lot more often with you than anyone else, so he’s silently cursing himself out when he slowly raises a hand to your cheek—his heart pounding against his rib cage, like it’s screeching to escape and run away. He has a rifle pressing against his nose, nearly right between his eyes, and what does he do? Kyle holds your covered cheek, his gloved hand cradling it just like how he did when he found you. Your eyebrow muscles punch inwards for a moment, your eyelids fluttering from the touch.

He watches the way your eyes scan his face, the way you’re trying to decipher whether he’s friend or foe—and he sees it when you know it’s him. Your eyes widen every so slightly and your rifle trembles in your grasp, lowering it and you flip the safety back on. “Gaz, I..” You croak for a moment, taking a small step back. Kyle let’s out a breath he didn’t he was holding, along with all of that tension holding up in body. He reaches for you again as you pinch the bridge of your nose, one of his hands swiftly taking the rifle from you, the other gently cradling your cheek again. “Shh, it’s alright,” He murmurs, his stomach tightening with anxiety. Your eyes fall closed for a moment as Kyle lets your rifle drop to the ground next to where both of you stand.

“It’s alright.” Kyle repeats, his other hand coming up to cradle your other cheek. You ever so slightly flinch in his touch, but you don’t pull away. Your hands come up to cover his own, a choked noise leaving your throat. “Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe.” His lips are next to your ear now, voice dripping like honey into your eardrums, trickling down your spine with a warmth only he’s been able to provide for you. You can borderline feel his heat from beneath his gloves, seeping into your skin from on top of your mask, too. It grounds you enough for you to take a wonderfully oxygen filled breath.

“There y’go, yeah..” Kyle praises you softly, the air from between his lips brushing against your ear and causing you get goosebumps. You inhale once again, slower and deeper—and you get the comforting scent of Kyle, mixed in with the sweat and dirt. Nonetheless, it’s something you find extreme comfort in. As Kyle brings you down from your panicked feelings, he’s swaying you ever so slightly. After you let out a soft shuddering breath, he pulls away from your ear. “Let me see you,” He whispers, causing your eyes to shoot open, scanning his face with panic. You begin to shake your head but his hands remain in place. Kyle’s hands don’t move to remove your mask, as he’s always been good with your boundaries—but his eyes are pleading you.

“Please.” You lock eye contact with him as you debate this; you haven’t showed your face willingly since you were in the hospital, right? You began to cover your face as soon as you could without medical repercussions. You keep scanning his eyes, his muscles in his face, and then it hits you—Kyle doesn’t beg you of anything—the last time he saw your face, was when it was split in two, when he was holding your face in place. You know the attack fucked with him, too. Your barracks were next to his, and after the attack, you were hyper-vigilant. You woke up from every noise, and every night—you heard him stumble out of his room, always at night. Panicked.

You take a slow, deep breath—and you nod. You close your eyes, trying to give yourself some comfort. You feel his fingers hook into the soft material of your mask, and he pulls it down to under your chin. You don’t open your eyes just yet, but you can’t help the small flinch when you feel his gloved thumb trace part of your pink scar that’s deep in your lip. Your heart is hammering in your throat as his finger continues to slowly follow the scar’s path, from your bottom lip trailing to your nose, rearing a gory right, a deeper part of the scar scaling through your right cheek, and taking a harsh upwards turn, just narrowly missing your eye, but cutting deep into your eyebrow.

“There you are.” He whispers, his voice barely steady. Your eyes flutter open and you look at Kyle, and your eyebrows raise ever so slightly at the sight of tears brimming in his own eyes, pure relief all over his expression. “Thought I lost you forever, huh?” Kyle tries to laugh, but his voice cracks, causing a rare laugh to be pulled out of your chest. You reach up and your breath hitches as you wipe away a tear that had begun to slide down his cheek. “I’m.. I’m okay, Kyle.” You respond and he shakes his head, sniffling for a moment, his eyes tracing every part of your face, like you’ll disappear again. “You aren’t,” He confirms. “And that’s alright. You’re alive, and here with me, that’s enough for now.”

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