#Handgun ammunition

[concealedlab]

Choose the Right Handgun

The Right Gun and Method of Carry Are Essential to First-Time Buyers and Seasoned Pros Alike

If there’s one thing that’s true in the firearm world, it’s that there’s a lot to know about how to choose a handgun.

There are two schools of thought at work here; one is “old school” and which means revolvers, the other is the current trend toward new subcompact and ultra-compact semiautomatics in calibers from .380 up to .45 ACP. In my experience, the Handgun choice between a revolver and a semi-auto has always been very personal. If you grew up around a father, older brother, or another family member who favored one style of gun over another, that has probably biased your preferences, but for first-time consumers and new CCW (concealed carry weapon) permit holders with no preconceived notions, the choices are wide open. Both revolvers and semi-autos present options that need to be given genuine consideration.Read the Full Post to Click here… 

[historyofguns]

The article "First-Time Handgun Owner’s Guide" by Paul Carlson on The Armory Life website provides comprehensive information for new firearms owners. It addresses the complexities and responsibilities associated with owning a modern semi-automatic handgun, such as the Springfield Hellcat, emphasizing that these guns are actually simple, reliable, and easy to use. Carlson discusses the importance of understanding firearm terminology and proper handling, comparing gun vocabulary to knowing basic tool terminology to facilitate better communication and learning. The article includes a video and encourages new gun owners to engage with the online community at The Armory Life Forum for further discussion and advice.

[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.6K

Warnings: kidnapping, murder (like, quite a bit), smut

Series Masterlist

Lando sat outside of the warehouse. His chest was heaving as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. She was in there. That was the location they'd sent.

Fucking idiots. If anybody was going to be good at a kidnapping, you think it would be the police. But they were useless. They'd told him exactly where to find her.

He checked for ammunition in his guns and climbed out of the car. A bitter, coppery taste entered his mouth as he started towards the warehouse. She was in there, and he was going to get her back.

Lando's finger was on the trigger before he walked into the warehouse. There were two men outside, guarding the door. He couldn't shoot them, not yet. Not without alerting everybody inside. And then he'd have no chance of saving her.

They weren't even properly guarding the door. One went to light his cigarette, distracting the both of them enough for Lando to slip past. Getting inside unnoticed was easy.

His girl was the first thing he saw. Tied to a chair, body slumped forward. Tears stained her cheeks and her body was shaking. Shit, he needed to get to her.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Lando hid himself behind some empty crates as the officer approached her. "Soon this will all be over, pretty," he said, voice echoing around the warehouse. Lando watched, jaw clenched as he grabbed her cheeks and forced her to look up.

Lando saw red.

Nobody touches his girl like that.

He looked around for the other officers in the warehouse. Some were in police uniform, some of them Lando recognised. He couldn't put a name to their faces, but he knew them. They'd been in his club before, arrested people, brought them for Lando to 'deal with'.

Weak, useless assholes, he knew. He readied his gun in his left hand, grabbed his handgun in his right hand. Clearing his throat, Lando stood up, alerting everybody to his presence.

"Ah, Norris," The police officer touching his girl called, a grin on her face. "You have my money?"

Lando shot him in the head.

His body dropped, and all hell broke loose. He ducked behind the crates as shots were fired at him.

Fuck, he should have been more covert, taking them out one by one. Instead he'd let rage blind him and he'd put his girl in danger. He spared her a glance.

She was okay, eyes squeezed shut, turned away from the men with the guns.

Lando stood and shot one of them, his bullet finding its home in a man's skull. He dropped, leaving two firing at Lando.

He ducked again, waited until they stopped. When he stood, he shot the second. But a bullet flew past his shoulder, just grazing it. A hiss left his lips as he fell down behind the crate.

Just one to go. Why hadn't the two guarding the warehouse come in? He checked the amount of bullets in his gun.

Another many left. But that was fine, he just had one more guy to kill. His shoulder throbbed, but he ignored it as he stood up and raised his gun. One shot, just one shot and it would all be over.

He stood, gun raised, and fired the final shot. The moment he pulled the trigger the gun dropped from his hand and he gripped his shoulder in pain. "Fuck!" He cried as the final bad guy dropped to the floor.

He could ignore it. Ignore the pain to get to his girl. He stopped holding his arm, hand coming away red, and strode across the warehouse towards her.

"Baby," he whispered as he dropped to his knees in front of her. He pulled the gag from her mouth and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Fuck, I'm so sorry," he cried as he untied her legs.

Walking behind her, he untied her hands and pulled her to her feet. His thumb moved over the red, painful marks on her wrists and she released a hiss.

Tears fell down her cheeks as Lando pulled her into his side. "How's Bruiser?" She mumbled against his shirt. She hadn't yet noticed the red on his other arm.

"He's fine," Lando replied as he walked with her out of the warehouse. "Max found him in the park and took him back to the house. He's there now," he explained.

The tears were still falling. Fuck, she hated him. He was the reason she got kidnapped and she hated him for it. Lando looked down as she still rubbed at her sore wrists.

When they left the warehouse, Lando moved her behind him. Nothing bad was ever going to happen to her again.

But the men outside of the warehouse were on the floor, out old. If Lando hadn't dropped his gun, he would have shot them both dead. He looked up, looked at the familiar car pulled up alongside his own.

"You're an ass," Max called as he pushed away from his car. "I should have known you were going to do something like this."

Lando scoffed. He was in no mood for this. Still holding her, he kept going towards his car. "Where do you want me to take you?" He asked, voice so gentle as squeezed her hand. "Your mums place?"

She stopped, hand still in Lando's. "Lan," she said, voice shaking as she touched his cheek. "Take me home. To our home."

"Our home?"

His chest was heaving as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The moment she touched his shoulder, body accidentally pressing against it, Lando hissed and she pulled away.

"Fuck, that's bad," he gasped and grabbed a hold of his shoulder, trying desperately to alleviate the pain. "Shit, that fucking hurts."

She stepped away, hands raised. "What's wrong? What's the matter?" She asked quickly, trying to check him over without touching him. "Do I need to take you to the hospital?"

"Not the hospital," Max said quickly. "I'll drive him back to the house. You follow behind in his car."

"Max, no!" She insisted, but Lando shook his head.

He used his uninjured arm to fish his keys from his pocket. "He's right, baby. It's better if we go back to the house."

But she still looked panicked. "I..."

"Trust us," Max said as he opened his car door. Lando kissed her and climbed into Max's car, leaving her there with her fingers closed around his keys.

***

A bandage held his arm in place as he sat up in bed, flipping through channels. Retirement was hard, harder than his grandparents had made it seem.

Bruiser snored at the end of the bed. It was loud and comforting. Walking Bruiser was the only time Lando had left the house since his retirement. Things would get better once his arm was better, he told himself.

Maybe he should have kept his club, gone legit with it. He'd stopped sleeping with strippers before he'd met his girl, it could have been a proper business. Now, he had nothing to do. Retirement sucked but it was better than putting the love of his life in danger.

The front door opened. Lando's eyebrows raised and he looked towards the bedroom door, open just enough for Bruiser to come and go as he pleased. As soon as he heard the front door shut, he was up and out of bed, barking as he made his way to the front door.

"Hi baby," came the voice of the woman he loved more than anything. "Can you stay out here for me? I need to talk to your daddy."

Bruiser didn't understand her. Obviously he didn't. He was a dog. He followed her until she dropped her bag to the floor, which he immediately stuck his head in. She slipped into the bedroom and pushed the door shut.

"Lan," she said. His head wasn't turned as she unzipped her skirt and dropped her clothes to the floor by the door. And then she walked forward, stepping into his view.

Lando sucked in a breath. "Fuck, I missed you today,"

She pulled off her underwear and dropped it to the floor. Lando was still as she climbed on top of him, knees on either side of him as she freed him from his zipper.

There was no foreplay, no time for that today. She sank down onto him and threw her head back, releasing a groan. "That's better," she mumbled breathlessly.

Her hips rolled as she leaned forward, hand touching his cheek.

Lando squeezed her hips as she sat on him. "Hi my love," he whispered, smile front as he stroked over her hip. "How was work today?"

She kissed down his neck instead of answering. Lando released a breathy laugh and gently pushed her away. A pout graced her features as she bounced slightly. "I've been thinking," she started, voice shaking slightly.

"Thinking what?" He asked and bucked his hips up.

"We've been through some crazy shit, right?" She asked and Lando nodded. "Well, what's the next logical step?"

Lando raised his eyebrows. Where the hell was she going with this? But he stayed silent, let her continue.

"I think that the next logical step is to get married, right?" She bounced again, almost as if she was nervous. "Wanna get married, Lan?"

He sucked in a breath.

"Fuck yeah I do."

FIN

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[gigabyte-flare]

There's No Escape (Part 7) [FINALE]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: The door is open, is it worth risking walking through to your freedom?

Pairing: yandere!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 3.2k

If any of the warnings below trigger you, please kindly pass on this fic 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life; if you feel this way, please go touch grass. You are solely responsible for your own content consumption

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE GODDAMN SUN. Thank you!

Warnings (may not apply to all parts): Sex, gaslighting, swearing, stalking, acts of violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping, pet names (baby, doll, angel, sweetheart, etc.), PTSD triggers, unprotected sex, forced breeding, daddy kink, manipulation, oral (m and f receiving), choking, overstimulation, knife play, gunplay, masterbation, drugging, tokophobia, Stockholm syndrome if you squint. Long story short, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. More warnings could be added in the future.

This part does make mention of miscarriages, which I know can be triggering for people. If this is something that triggers you, please read with caution or pass on this part.

Tags: @lipglossanon, @ghostkennedy, @explorevenus, @nexysworld, @ilookatlater, @shroomietrip, @dollrxst, @lomaeuwu, @aliet, @luniaxifics, @miwsolovely, @tosuckmyweenis, @admirxation, @susanmukami, @andieperrie18

[Author's Notes are at the end!]

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It has to be a trap, there’s no way he would have left the door unlatched like that, right?

You must have stared at the door for at least an hour, waiting for Leon to walk back through and praise you for being his ‘good girl,’ but he never did. You mull over your options.

If it is a trap, the worst that will happen is he puts you in the timeout room, you know he won’t rough you up too horribly because he wouldn’t risk you miscarrying, right? If it wasn’t a trap, if he actually did accidently leave that door unlatched, this was your perfect opportunity to finally escape, especially now that you have a good idea of where you are.

You decide it’s worth risking, so you start to get a plan in your head. You go into the bedroom closet and find an old looking backpack and start packing supplies: a few bottles of water, some granola bars, bug spray and band aids. You find your sneakers and pick out a loose t-shirt and a pair of your jeans and put them on; you need to be as comfortable as you possibly could, you have no clue how long you’ll be hiking for. You realize it wouldn’t be a bad idea to find something to defend yourself with, not just from Leon if he happens to catch you but from the wildlife: black bears, coyotes and god knows what else. 

You approach the front door, opening it hesitantly and poking your head out. You look around, trying to see if you see any sign of Leon out here, waiting for you. To your surprise, he’s nowhere to be found. Feeling confident that he’s definitely not here, you step out and follow the trail to the shed, hoping that you could find something in there to defend yourself with. Upon getting to the shed, you found the door was locked. You step back, giving the door a few fierce kicks before it breaks off its hinges, slamming to the floor, dispelling a cloud of dust as it lands.

You step in and immediately start looking around, eventually stumbling upon a collection of guns that Leon has displayed on a wall. You grab a smaller handgun along with a box of 9mm ammunition. You put the ammo in your backpack and you tuck the gun into your waistband after making sure the safety was on. As you start to walk out, you spot a red canister. You walk over to it, picking it up and realizing it was full of gasoline. That gave you an idea.

Taking the canister with you, you go back into the house and stomp into the timeout room. You open the cap to the canister and start pouring the gas all over the bed until it's empty. You go into the kitchen and start opening drawers until you find a pack of matches which, thankfully, had one match left. You go back into the timeout room, staring down at the single match in the palm of your hand, tears forming in your eyes.

When you light the match, you can burn away this nightmare.

You light the match, holding it in front of you for a moment before tossing it onto the bed. The force of the fire bursting to life knocks you off your feet, but you quickly regain your composure and run out the front door. Once outside, you stop and turn around. It doesn’t take long for the fire to spread to other parts of the house. Taking a huge sigh of relief, you turn back around, looking up at the sky to find the sun. You discern which direction you think South is in and begin walking. You have a long journey ahead of you to freedom.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The meeting with President Graham lasted for far too long, in Leon’s opinion. He sat at the oval shaped table, chair leaned back and his arms crossed, looking unamused. It was him, a handful of other agents tasked with combating bioterrorism, the President and the newly appointed Secretary of Defense; he recalls that the dark haired man, an agent like him, sitting across from him is named Patrick.

Leon half listens as the Secretary of Defense goes on about the investigation of former Defense Secretary Wilson; the government was still trying to track him down but so far, all efforts to find the man were unsuccessful. Leon thought back to that incident a year ago and Jason’s words:

“I will show everyone what fear is. Then, then it will spread.”

Leon suddenly can see your face, the fear in your eyes as you look at him. Leon’s heart ached for you; as soon as this meeting was over, he was going straight home to you, to show you how much he loved you. After about another half hour, the President dismisses everyone. Leon couldn’t get out of his chair fast enough, however, Patrick soon stops him in the hallway. 

“Hey! How’s it going at that house you got? How’s your girlfriend doing?” Patrick asks, his voice full of excitement; he is always starstruck by Leon.

“It’s good, she’s good,” Leon says flatly as he pulls out his phone to check it.

A series of notifications, from about two hours ago, made his heart sink: Motion Detected: Front Door. Motion Detected: Shed Door.

Fire Detected.

Leon’s eyes widen, he opens up an app on his phone to check the camera feeds, but he finds that all the cameras are offline except for the shed. 

“I hate to cut this short, Pat, but there’s an emergency at my house. I have to go. Tell the President I’m sorry and give him my regards.”

Leon bolts out of the building, running to his Jeep and climbing inside. He peels out of the parking lot, his heart racing as he pushes his Jeep as hard and as fast as it could go. He gets back to the house in record time, only to find it engulfed in flames; it is a complete loss. He parks his Jeep, standing in front of his burning home and collapsing to his knees. He lets out the most agonizing cry out, tears threatening to pour down the sides of his face as he slams his fists into the ground. It’s not the house he’s upset about, no. That can be replaced. What destroyed him was that you were gone, again.

He takes deep, trembling breaths before he stands back up, he sees something out of the corner of his eye that gives him hope: footprints. They tracked about South-Southwest, deep into the forest. He walks back over to his Jeep, grabbing some supplies out of it and begins following the trail. 

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The night was the worst. You couldn’t sleep. Every snap of a tree branch startled you awake, thinking that Leon had finally found you. You didn’t dare start a fire or anything in fear it would draw his attention to you. You imagine he’s back home by now and found the house burned down and is now looking for you. Just as the sun starts to break through the trees, you immediately set out, trying to stay on a Southern track as best as you possibly could.

You keep your eyes on your feet, nimbly navigating the rocks and tree roots that jutted out of the ground. You thankfully were an experienced hiker; this came naturally to you. At the same time, you kept your ears open, being attentive to every sound you heard in the forest. You have no idea how much time has passed, but you see the sun hanging high in the sky, beating down on you. You stop under a large pine tree to take a break, leaning against it as you take off your backpack, taking a granola bar out to have a quick bite to eat.

That’s when you hear a sound that chills you straight to your core; your name being called. The voice echoes through the forest. There’s no mistaking it; it is Leon. You’re shocked that he managed to track you down that quickly. Are you really surprised though? He’s a government agent; he’s used to this kind of work. With each call, you can hear his voice get closer and closer, so you run. You sling your backpack back over your shoulders, running as fast as your legs can take you. 

Suddenly, you stop in your tracks, sliding until your feet stop at the edge of a large ravine. You look down, wide eyed, at the raging river in the gully below. You look around, spotting a tree that lay across the ravine. It’s risky, but it’s your only way across. You approach the tree, stepping up onto it and carefully balancing yourself across. You try not to look down, but you happen to glance down, the drop making you dizzy. You almost lose your balance, but you quickly correct yourself and manage to get yourself across. You step off the fallen tree, letting out a heavy sigh when you hear your name called again, this time, from directly across the ravine. 

You spin around and to your horror, you see Leon on the other side, approaching the fallen tree to cross to get to you. You pull out the pistol from your waistband, turning off the safety and pointing the gun at him.

“Don’t come any closer!”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“It won’t end,” Leon hears Jason’s words once again echo in his mind as he watches you pull the gun on him, your eyes wide in terror, “you are here. You are a witness to this fear. And now you will help it spread.”

Leon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he steps onto the fallen tree to cross the ravine.

So much for that…

“Sweetheart,” Leon opens his eyes and starts taking a few steps forward onto the fallen tree, “listen, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I said… don’t come any closer!” you shout, tears welling up in your eyes as your finger hovers over the trigger. 

“Baby, please!” Leon pleads, continuing to advance across the tree, “I promise I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad about the house, ok? I’ll buy us a new one. We can go back to Boston or D.C. or anywhere you want! Just you and me… and our baby…”

“I’m not going anywhere with you…”

“Babe,” a wicked smile starts to cross his lips as he continues to step forward, now in the middle of the makeshift bridge, “that’s where you’re wrong. You have my baby growing inside you, you’re tied to me forever…”

“SHUT UP!” You scream, pulling the trigger.

Leon watches as the bullet strikes just in front of his feet, splintering the wood from the old, rotten tree. He carefully continues to step forward. He watches you pull the trigger again, this time a sharp pain going through his right shoulder as the bullet finds its mark. He growls, reaching over with his left hand, gripping his shoulder; it quickly is covered in his own blood. 

“You’re going to stop where you are, turn around and go back to where you came from. We are done.” you say, still pointing the gun at him.

“No we’re not,” Leon says, continuing to approach, “I am not losing you… I am not losing my baby.”

You fire at him again, the bullet once again going into the tree. Leon looks down, letting out a low chuckle as he looks back up at you, taking another step forward. However, with this next step, he hears the tree start to give under his weight. He attempts to leap forward, but the tree gives way before he’s able to and the last thing he remembers is your face staring down at him as he falls into the ravine.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You watch as the tree snaps and Leon falls into the ravine; into the white rapids of the river below. You stare down at the river, dumbfounded, your eyes searching the rapids for him, but you don’t see him. You fall to your knees and break down crying. You probably just killed Leon. The horror of having potentially murdered Leon gives way to a huge wave of relief, the nightmare was truly over. You must have stayed there for over an hour, staring into the river, waiting for Leon to surface. 

But he never did. 

The sun starts to set, so you decide to set back off, heading south once more. Once it gets dark, you find a safe spot to set up camp, feeling safe enough to set up a fire to keep yourself warm. You stare into the fire, your body trembling from your ordeal. You still can’t believe you probably killed Leon, you can’t believe that your nightmare is over. That you’re free.

Several days go by; while you were sometimes startled by random sounds in the forest, your trek through the forest was uneventful. It had downpoured at one point, completely soaking you, your clothes and your shoes. You had run out of granola bars and water and you quickly were becoming dehydrated. One night, you settle down to get some sleep; however, you could hear sounds that immediately caught your attention.

Laughter. The laughter of several people

You immediately get up, grabbing your backpack to head towards the sound. After a few minutes of walking, you see a campfire and break into a sprint, bolting into a small clearing where you find a small group of people gathered around the fire. You stand there for a moment, looking at all of them. You must have been a sorry sight, your clothes dirty and wet, your hair greasy, soaked, matted and stuck to your face. You feel tears well up in your eyes as a wave of relief wash over you.

You finally speak, your voice barely a whisper, “please… help me…”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The following days went by in a blur, the group, which you found out was a group of college students, helped you out of Baxter State Park and immediately contacted Fish and Game, who in turn contacted the police after you recounted what had happened to you. You were rushed to the hospital, where you were put on an IV for your dehydration. They were able to confirm that you were, in fact, pregnant, much to your dismay, but you weren’t going to worry about that right now. 

Police had come in to interview you as you stayed in the hospital to recover from your ordeal, you told them as much as you possibly could about what happened to you, however, not once do you mention Leon’s name. 

Why are you protecting him? you ask yourself, he’s dead, it doesn’t matter now.

But deep down you knew if you told them that an elite government agent had done this to you, they wouldn’t have believed you. One day, you overhear a couple cops talking outside of your hospital room, saying how they didn’t find a body in the ravine that you pointed out on a map of Baxter State Park. You try not to let fear overtake you; you could have been mistaken where the ravine was. You saw him fall, there was no way he survived that fall.

A couple days later, you were released from the hospital and were greeted by your parents, who were so happy to see you. They drive you back to D.C., and you pass out, sleeping the majority of the way there. The following days go by peacefully, as you acclimate back to a semi normal life. You then start to talk to your parents about what you’re going to do with the child growing inside you, it’s starting to sound like adoption was the best option. However, your own body made that decision for you.

You wake up one morning to severe abdominal pain; you cry out, grasping your lower stomach as you sit up and toss the blankets off you. What you see is horrifying. Your bed and your pajama bottoms are soaked in your blood; you scream a blood curdling scream. Your mom comes rushing in to see what’s going on and immediately calls 911 upon seeing the blood. You’re rushed to the hospital, where you’re told you have miscarried. As you lay in the hospital bed, you can’t help but feel relieved. The last thing you would ever want was to bring a child into this world who was conceived under such horrible circumstances. 

The doctors suspect it was due to the sheer amount of stress you had been under and the dehydration. You don’t doubt it. You can’t help but think about how horrified Leon would have been if he were here. Thankfully for you, he wasn’t. Once you are released from the hospital, you start the agonizing journey to heal yourself and to find yourself again after what you had gone through.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Three years later, Northern California…

You and your new found girlfriends drive down Route 1 in one of the girls’ convertible. You all joke and laugh as the wind flows through your hair; you couldn’t be happier. Your ordeal seemed so far away, especially since you decided to move West, as far away from the East coast as you could possibly go. You needed a fresh start. Neither of these girls knew what you had gone through. Someday, you would tell them, but not today. Today was for happiness and friendship. The girls’ names are Jill and ironically, Rebecca. You had met them at a bar one night and they welcomed you into their friendship with open arms. 

Jill is driving and she pulls over in a scenic stop area so that you all could watch the sunset over the Pacific ocean. You all get out of the car and lean up against it, facing the ocean. You all talk amongst yourselves, paying no mind to the motorcycle that had pulled into the scenic stop along with you. After a few minutes, Jill stops, looking over at the motorcycle that’s parked over on the other side of the scenic stop. 

She elbows you, “look at that handsome stud.”

You lean forward and crane your neck to see who Jill is talking about and your heart sinks. It’s a tall, blonde haired man leaning against a black, Ducati motorcycle. He wore a black leather jacket with white, horizontal stripes on the sleeves, black jeans and black boots. 

He looks just like Leon.

You take deep breaths to calm yourself down and close your eyes, hugging yourself.

It’s not Leon, Leon’s dead, you watched him die. You’re safe.

You open your eyes to see the man staring right at you, you can tell he has brilliant blue eyes, just like Leon’s. He winks at you before climbing onto his motorcycle and starting the engine. Much to your relief, he drives off, getting back on Route 1. You let out a sigh, leaning back up against the car to stare back out into the Pacific ocean.

“He was quite the looker, wasn’t he?” Jill asks, elbowing you again and smirking at you.

Your eyes remain fixed on the ocean, your face blank and emotionless.

“Yeah… I guess he was…”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: This series has been quite the journey for me. Not only did it kick start my return to Tumblr, it connected me with some truly wonderful people in the Leon Kennedy/Resident Evil fandom. I've made beautiful friends because of this series and I am so incredibly grateful. If this series was a movie, I always imagined The Summit by Spiritbox to be the "ending credits" song.

Thank you to everyone who has joined me on this journey, I appreciate every single one of you who have supported my work on here. Love you all!

[jacktheeldergod2]

Guess who's back at it again

Pick a creature you gotta hunt. But ofcourse your armaments will be added first. Pick one of these. All are nonmagical. The ammunition refers to how much you are given for free not how much the item holds

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Price takes Nikolai to a gig and gets more than he bargained for.

cw: sexual content towards the end.

Price stood on the outskirts in the standing area of Liverpool's Olympia stadium tracing back the decisions that had led him to this moment. He clutched half a pint of the worst lager he had ever tasted in one hand, his fingers bending the plastic inwards under a tense grip, while the other hand remained deep in the pocket of his jeans, turning his flat keys over and over.

Nik had thrown the flyer down on his desk about a month ago, and those big brown eyes had been turned onto their pleading setting immediately. Laswell likened them to the eyes of her barrel-shaped black Labrador; big, loyal, soft, irresistible. Price had asked her whether her wife knew there would soon be a third in their marriage and she'd thumped his arm hard enough to leave a mark. "Liverpool, this is where you live," Nik had said, stating rather than asking. "Can you help me book this?"

Nikolai could fix you a handgun in Liverpool no problem, replete with silencer and enough hollow point ammunition to create a very bad night for the Merseyside police force, but booking and attending a gig was apparently too much. Price had snagged up the flyer, squinted at the band name as if he had a chance in hell of recognising it, and then agreed.

Because why the fuck not? Brass were pressuring him to book some leave so they could tick the 'monitoring mental health and well being' box on his performance management, so it was as good excuse as any. You can kip on my sofa, he'd said, I can cook a better sarnie than the Premier Inn.

Nik's entire face had lit up. "Good! And you can come with me," a single beat of breath, "or I might get lost." There has been no time to argue the point because Garrick had knocked and entered, only to be scooped into a hug with a boomed, "Gaz, my brother, good to see you!" and the Russian-shaped whirlwind had disappeared.

So Price had done just that. He'd booked two tickets at the same time as his annual leave - three days should get them off his back - and put it out of his mind.

Not that there would have been much time to mull it over; they shipped out on a week long recon mission the following day, and the fallout that followed had taken up the rest of the time. Before he knew it, he was sitting on the train with Nik opposite, watching the British countryside sprint by in a blur of green and grey, drinking a beer and playing cards.

Being around Nik was easy. It wasn't just that he didn't take up energy to entertain, or require a certain mask from Price, it was more than that. Like he slotted into a part of Price's psyche built precisely for him, and Price felt happier when he was there. Laswell said it was like Nik removed the stick from Price's arse as part of his exfil service and Price had told Laswell to fuck off.

They had spent the afternoon mooching around Price's gaff. Not much to see really, but Nik had been fascinated by the dusty family photos on Price's wall and asked after every face; mother, father, sister, two nieces, a nephew, grandparents. He'd wanted to know about them all.

Then, with an hour and a half to go before Olympia's doors opened, they'd got changed for the evening. Price had thrown on the only shirt he owned that didn't come from the bargain bin of a Mountain Warehouse or the Army Surplus catalogue - a Ralph Lauren his sister has bought him one Christmas instead of the much preferred fishing-themed memorabilia - and stepped out to be confronted by Nik in a Slayer cut off tank that showed off the sides of his torso in a way that made Price feel hot under his designer collar.

"You look," Nik had said, studying Price carefully, head tilting to the side with a wry little smirk, "ill-prepared."

"And you look like Ozzy Osbourne took some steroids so I reckon it evens out." Nik had laughed at that and thumped Price's chest, and in the next moment they were sitting in the back of a taxi, Nik talking through the set list with the same excited gusto he did when pawing over a new bird in the hanger. Price was just glad he had remembered his Loop earplugs and couldn't help but smile along at Nik's excitement.

After drinking together through the support band and watching Nik grow gradually more and more restless, Price had sent him into the pit. He stood watching Nik from afar - "your shirt is too nice, captain, you stay here and finish your beer, I'll be back," - a man ten years his senior, orchestrate what the lead singer was calling a Wall of Death. More, more, further. Don't be a pussy! And then they sprinted at each other to the crescendo of a shredding guitar. Jesus fucking christ. Price lifted his lager to drink and then hesitated; he was pretty sure he'd felt something wet slosh over his face and shoulders, into his drink, and he couldn't be sure it wasn't piss, so he put his inordinately expensive and shit lager down on the nearby bar.

The last gig he had been to was at fifteen, a year before he joined the service. 3rd November 2000 at Wembley in London; the Smashing Pumpkins. He remembered it so clearly because of the hiding his father had given him for not only hitchhiking his way to London, but stumbling home off his head on cheap vodka the morning after. There hadn't been any Walls of Death at the time.

Nik stumbled out of the melee that had followed the wall's demise just as the song ended, and a line formed down the centre of Price's brow. A knot twisted in his belly, and a little further down, at the lumbering mess of a man that approached. His tank clung to the curves of his chest, darkened with sweat, his usually neat hair ruffled and erratic, the sheen on his arms and collar bones reflecting the strobe lights and drawing Price's eye. A shiver of something that felt far too fucking much like longing ran down his spine.

"You're bleeding," Price said dumbly, his throat tight. His gaze settled on the split in Nik's lip and the blossoming bruise on his cheekbone.

"Eh," Nik huffed, wiping a smear of blood on the back of his hand. "The other guy looks worse." There was that feral little grin. The same grin Nikolai wore in the field when shit had gone Pete Tong but they had still come up golden through sheer grit, dumb luck and the precise application of violent savagery. It set a fire in Price's chest, made something feral and untamed rouse from slumber, and suddenly there was an itch beneath his skin.

"Damn fuckin' right," Price replied, reflecting Nik's grin back at him. A breath passed between them, something unspoken and wild as their eyes met. And then there was a strong hand gripping his jaw, another on his hip, pushing him into the wall behind him. His back hit home, knocking the air from his lungs, and his fists bunched in the sweat-soaked material of Nik's shirt as Nik's lips pushed to his. The coppery taste of blood mixed with cheap beer and cigar smoke, and every sane thought fell out of Price's head, replaced instead by a maelstrom of chaos centered around the feel of Nik's tongue, the softness of his lips, the demand of his teeth and the rock hard bulge that ground into Price's hips.

Price was sure his moan would have been audible but for the thump and scream of the music. Nik kept that grip on his jaw as he damn near plundered Price's mouth for what he wanted, but the other hand left his hip to push against the wall, clenched in a fist near Price's head. When they pulled apart, Price sucked in a strangled gasp of air and Nik pushed his face into the scruff of Price's beard. "Ty prekrasen," Nik breathed, "ya tebya hochu."

Price had been practicing Russian. He still couldn't read it, but even if he hadn't understood the words or the low growl in Nik's voice, the hunger in Nik's kiss on his neck would have communicated his meaning just fine. "Bloody hell," Price arched against the hard line of Nik's body, fists shaking. "Yeah. Fuck. Wait..." He shoved Nik away, just a fraction, but held onto his shirt with the same desperation. Caught in the conflict between what he wanted and another part of him that had been wounded once before. "I'm not your three a.m. shag, Nik. We clear? I don't do that. If this is--if this is what this is, then no, look at me, you hear?"

Nik let out a burst of a chuckle, eyes soft as he met Price's gaze. "John, you are and always will be my everything." He was drunk enough to struggle around the 'J' in Price's name, defaulting the zsho- inflection, but his eyes were clear as he said it.

"Fuck," Price responded, eyes wide, and Nik kissed him again, slower this time. When he stopped, Price was shaking.

"And you?" Nik breathed into his lips.

"Not here, not... I can't hear myself fucking think."

"Then home." Nik pulled him from the wall and soon they were navigating the corridors crowded with drunks and staff into the night. The cool air bristled over Price's skin, but it did little to cool the heat in his body, barely able to keep his hands off of Nik when they fell into the back of the cab. Nik sat contentedly, the backs of his fingers stroking up and down Price's forearm as he watched the city speed by.

Price's hands shook as he shoved the key in the door of his flat, and he turned just in time to be crowded across the threshold by Nik's chest. The door slammed shut and they tumbled onto the beaten up old sofa padded out with a spare duvet and pillow. Nik tore into Price's clothes remorselessly, thirty-ish quids worth of buttons skittered under Price's coffee table as the shirt was k.i.a. It didn't matter, because the feeling of Nik devouring his chest, scrubbing his stubble into sweat, hair and cologne with a deep, guttural groan, was worth every shirt Price owned and then some.

They fumbled and wrestled out of their clothes in search of skin. Nik worked his way down Price's body, wrenching his jeans and boxers over his thighs to lick a long stripe up the hard line of his prick before swallowing it in one. A strangled noise broke from Price's chest as he buried a fist in Nik's hair; the responding moan that vibrated in Nik's throat sent pleasure licking up Price's spine like tongues of flame. Nik kept him teetering on the brink, pulling away with a soft pop to work his way back up Price's body and squirm out of the baggy cargo shorts far enough to free his own cock. He took them both in one big hand and rutted forward, grabbing at the arm of the sofa behind Price's head for purchase.

Slicked by their precum and Nik's saliva, Nik fucked them both into his palm with enough pace and force to make the old sofa creak. He leaned down to kiss the moans and whimpers from Price's mouth in between growled pants of want, slipping in and out of Russian, English and some of the other eight languages he knew, like his brain had short-circuited and was spinning out. Fuckin' hot, is what it was. One of Price's hands joined Nik's, if only to feel the silky iron of his prick against another part of him. He squeezed tighter as his pleasure crested, balls pulling tight, and spilled between them.

Nik practically fucking purred with delight, thrusting against Price's spent cock until he grunted in discomfort before pulling away. No fucking way Price was letting him keep the upper hand; he snagged Nik's shorts and used them to yank him up until Nik's cum-slick cock hung over his face. His palm gripping one plentiful arse cheek, he sucked Nik into the back of his mouth, encouraging him to thrust in with a firm squeeze and low growl.

If Price had thought Nik had been loud before, the act of fucking Price's face had unearthed a whole new vocal range. Nik moaned, growled and panted like an animal, fisting Price's hair as his balls settled against the bristles on Price's chin. Price's throat spasmed, his chest ached, his damn eyes watered, but fuck he wanted Nik buried in him forever. His fingernails bit into the flesh of his arse, his spent cock flicking with interest across his belly, as Nik staked his claim. It took only a handful of deep thrusts before Nik hit his peak, buried to the hilt and spilling down Price's throat with a euphoric shout.

His grip loosened in Price's hair and he withdrew slowly, cock still twitching as it drew over Price's tongue. He replaced his prick with his mouth, kissing the taste of himself on Price's swollen lips with a bone deep moan, before lapping at the tear tracks on Price's cheeks.

At some point, Nik must have moved them to the bed, because Price resurfaced from his haze with his face on a thick, furry chest and a strong arm around his shoulders, the bedsheets draped up to their waist. Nik traced vague circles on Price's bicep, half lidded eyes unfocused as they stared at the ceiling. "I meant it," Nik said, clearly sensing Price's return from his post-fuck delirium. "Everything I said."

Price swallowed hard. How did you respond to that? Nothing in his life so far had prepared him for Nik's devotion. "I know," he murmured. "I... Me too. For a long time."

Nik shifted, rolling Price onto his back so he could look down into his eyes. "Then we make it work."

"Nik... Our lives, we... Shit could go upside down real bloody quick."

A finger pressed over his lips. "I specialise in upside down, captain."

"You just put your prick in my throat and you're still going with captain."

Nik shrugged, lopsided grin slipping back into place. "It is hot. Maybe I will fuck you in your uniform next time, hm?"

"Presumptuous, Nik..."

"Maybe over your desk." Nik sank down to kiss Price's neck.

"Cleaning lady would have somethin' to say about that."

"She is not invited. I do not share." A nip against his throat, and Price arched into Nik's chest.

"Fuck, okay... Mate, you're rabid."

"Hm, only for you."

Fuck. Only for you. Price closed his eyes as Nik's hand slid beneath the blanket. Yeah, fine, they could make this work. They could have this. They deserved it, this one thing, and fuck did Price want it bad.

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 17) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

Chapter 17

When you get to the supply cache, Giran is waiting for you, leaning back against the door of the storage unit and smoking a cigarette. It’s not his first one, either – the ground around his feet is scattered with the remains of five or six more. He notices you looking and smirks. “Seems like I’ve been littering, Saintess. Are you going to absolve me?”

“Only if you want me to,” you say. “Do you have what we ordered?”

“Cash first.”

“We paid in advance,” you remind him. Giran holds out both hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Was any of it hard to get?”

“Only what you asked for,” Giran says. “For the others, I’ve got replacement parts for Compress’s arm and Toga’s gear, more of those gloves for Shigaraki, gauntlets for Spinner and Twice – you sure you don’t want a set? They were buy two, get one free.”

You’re not sure if he’s joking or not. “That’s everything for the others. How about for me?”

“Of course.” Giran sets the crate with the rest of the supplies aside and pulls out a smaller box. “I have to say, I was surprised when you asked for this. I didn’t think the League’s resident angel would have any interest in a gun.”

“I’m interested in defending myself,” you say. “Open it.”

Giran opens the box, revealing a gun that looks like any other gun you’ve seen, not that you’ve seen many guns up close. “You don’t know enough to specify, so I chose something beginner-friendly,” he says. “This is a .22 caliber handgun. It’s designed for minimum recoil, so as to avoid knocking you back on your ass when you try to fire it. It’s also designed to be quiet, but I’ve thrown in a silencer free of charge.”

“Thanks,” you say. “What about ammunition?”

“Also included, but I’m charging for that. Thanks to the Americans and their mass shootings, it’s hard to buy ammunition in large quantities anywhere else,” Giran says. “Call it a convenience fee. Additionally, the trigger on this model is known to be fairly sensitive, so trigger discipline is going to be key. You know what that means?”

“I know.” You’ve been researching. “Safety on and fingers off unless I’m planning to shoot someone.”

“The instruction manual’s included,” Giran says. You scowl. “Ask Twice for help if you’re confused. He knows how to shoot.”

“Twice with a gun. That sounds safe.”

“Safer than you,” Giran says. “Running around with villains is one thing. Murder’s something else. I don’t think you have it in you.”

“Then I’ll hand the gun off to somebody who does.” You pick the crate up, grimacing at the weight, and Giran shuts the box with the gun and sets it down on top. “Thanks for getting it for me. Stay safe.”

Giran laughs at that. “Try ‘get lost’ next time. It’ll make you sound more intimidating.”

Your costume is a veil and a crown of thorns, and as of right now your weapon is a backpack. Intimidating is a lost cause. “Thanks for the tip. We’ll be in touch.”

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Giran lights up another cigarette as he walks away.

You unlock the storage unit and step inside. This is a supply cache you haven’t visited before, and you can tell Mitsuko’s the one who set it up, because there’s a box of condoms prominently perched atop six or seven cases of bottled water. You and the others have a water source right now, and while your medical supplies are dwindling, you don’t need a refill just yet. What you’re short on is food. You set down the crate, followed by your backpack, and open them up. Then you start filling both of them with prepackaged food.

Energy bars are the most efficient, space-wise, and they at least make a gesture at containing any kind of nutrients. Unfortunately, the League of Villains is full of adults with children’s tastes in food, and they wouldn’t know a nutrient if it walked up and introduced itself. It’s taken almost a month into the effort to batter Gigantomachia into submission for them to admit that eating nothing but calorie-rich, nutrient-poor food makes them feel gross. If you could get them real food on a regular basis, you would. But it’s almost never feasible, not with the tiny amount of downtime Tenko and the others are working with. It’s packaged food or nothing. They need to eat.

You pick out a variety of items and stuff them into the crate and your own backpack, text thank-you to Mitsuko while pretending you don’t see her message asking if the condoms were the right size, and head out. There are a few more things to buy before you can head back to the others.

As the medic, you’re responsible for the team’s health, and you’re worried about Tenko in particular. He’s exerting himself more than anyone and resting barely at all, and when he does get to rest, it’s all you can do to convince him to eat a few bites of anything before he passes out. The caloric input to output imbalance has stripped him of any remaining body fat, and when you touch him now, all you can feel are hard ropes of muscle and prominent bones straining beneath his skin.

The caloric imbalance is bad enough, but you’ve seen everything he’s eating, so you know he’s massively vitamin-deficient as well. If he won’t eat enough to get the amount he needs, you’ve got another way to do it. The clerk at the drugstore looks askance at the number of pill bottles you’re carrying. “These aren’t cheap, you know.”

“I know,” you say. “I’ll need a bag.”

The bag plus the crate and your backpack are stupidly heavy. You’re struggling as you head for the train station, gritting your teeth against the pain in your arms. You’ve been more active in the last month and a half than you’ve ever been in your life, and there’s not a day when some part of you isn’t sore. You pause at the bottom of the stairs to the platform and stare dismally upward. This one is going to hurt.

“Do you need help with that?”

You almost jump out of your skin, and almost drop what you’re carrying in the bargain. There’s a girl standing next to you, and you recognize her. In fact, you know her hero name, her real name, her quirk, and her blood type, courtesy of Toga. “Ochako?”

Uraraka Ochako, hero name: Uravity, looks shocked. “You know my name?”

“I remember you from the Sports Festival,” you say. It’s not so much that you remember watching the Sports Festival and more that Toga watches clips of it on YouTube to fall asleep. “You were really good. I liked your plan a lot.”

“Oh, thank you! I just wish it had worked,” Uraraka says ruefully. She gestures at the boxes you’re carrying. “Do you need help with those? I can make them lighter for you.”

You were going to say no, but if all she has to do is touch them – “Thank you so much. That would be really great.”

It’s much easier to get up the stairs when the stuff you’re carrying is lighter than air. Uraraka follows you up. “Do you live nearby? I can help you get them home.”

You shake your head. “I have a really long way to go.”

“I’ll stay until your train gets here,” she decides. You protest that your train’s running late, and she probably has somewhere to be. “My internship is right around here, and I’m off for the day. I don’t mind.”

You sort of mind. You’re on your way to hook back up with the League of Villains and you’re carrying what feels like a literal kiloton of contraband. You have a hard time believing that the word VILLAIN isn’t stamped on your forehead. But you can’t be rude, the crate really is heavy, and Toga will kill you if she finds out that you had the chance to talk to Uraraka and didn’t take it. You struggle for a topic to raise, and your brain suggests the Shie Hassaikai raid. “I saw in the paper that you helped rescue that little girl.”

“That wasn’t me. It was Deku,” Uraraka says. “I helped with other things, but he was the one who saved her.”

“Do you know how she’s doing?” you ask. “Is she okay?”

“She is! She stays with Aizawa-sensei and the other teachers and we all love her so much.” Uraraka is beaming now. “She’s okay even though the League of Villains kidnapped her. I can’t believe they just gave her back.”

Not ‘dumped her’, not ‘threw her away’. Gave her back. Your heart lifts enough that it’s a struggle to come up with the appropriate civilian response. “She must have been so scared. Did they hurt her?”

“That’s the weird part. She says she wasn’t scared,” Uraraka says. She frowns slightly. “She said they were nice to her. They gave her this blanket and this dog plushie. Aizawa-sensei keeps trying to swap it out for a cat plushie, but she won’t let it go.”

“Weird,” you agree. “Are you sure it was the League that got her?”

“She described them all. Shigaraki, Toga, Dabi – everybody.” Uraraka’s frown deepens. “And one we hadn’t heard of before. One nobody had heard of before. Saintess.”

You were hoping Eri wouldn’t remember, but it sounds like she does – and she knows what you look like. Did she describe you, too? Is that why Uraraka won’t leave? You struggle to stay calm. Physically, you don’t stand out. There are probably thousands of people who match your physical description, and Uraraka isn’t acting like a hero who’s just cornered a suspect. Heroes don’t play it cool. She thinks you’re just a random civilian with a bunch of boxes to carry, and she’s helping out. Which is – nice. Heroes aren’t usually nice like that.

“Saintess,” you repeat. “That’s a weird name for a villain.”

“Right?” Uraraka’s frown shifts into confusion. “The whole thing is weird. They’re villains. It’s easier when they just act like it.”

Huh. You don’t spend a lot of time around full-fledged heroes, but when you were Kazuo’s girlfriend, you spent a lot of time around heroes in training, and you don’t remember any of them ever saying something like that. “What do you mean?”

“I mean –” Uraraka pauses to think for a second. “Shigaraki tried to kill us at USJ. The League of Villains attacked us and kidnapped one of my classmates. It’s weird that they’d draw the line at hurting a little kid.”

“Villains have lines?” You fake confusion. “I thought they didn’t care who they hurt.”

“Some of them don’t. The one Deku fought to save Eri definitely didn’t. I guess the League does.” Uraraka looks uneasy. “That doesn’t change anything.”

It does, though. You can see it in her face. The fact that the League let Eri go, that they took care of her while they had her, is challenging her worldview to a degree she’s not comfortable with. You need to ease off, switch the topic before she doubles down – and before you can slip up defending the others. “I’m glad she wasn’t hurt, and that she’s doing better. It sounds like you all care about her a lot, and everybody deserves people who love them.”

“They do.” Uraraka’s smile returns at last, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You got her to agree to that statement in the middle of a conversation about the League. That feels less like a narrow escape and more like a win.

Your train arrives late, and you bid Uraraka goodbye and thank her for her help. Then you climb onto the train with your crate full of supplies and check the time on your phone. If you’re lucky, you’ll get back just as the fighting’s dying down.

At first you thought Gigantomachia could keep fighting forever, but it turns out that his strength and stamina aren’t infinite – just more than sufficient to outlast any normal human. He can fight for three days at a stretch, hibernate for less than three hours, and pick up right where he left off. There’s no hiding from. Wherever he is, he’ll seek Tenko out, and while Twice’s copies of Tenko can keep him occupied for a short time, three and a half hours is the longest break you’ve ever seen Tenko get.

It’s not enough. Not even close. The fight against the giant is destroying Tenko, and there’s nothing you can do except try to make sure he eats something before he falls asleep – and try to make sure that whatever sleep he does get is as restful as humanly possible.

The train gods are kind to you. You get back on time, meet Compress just outside the small town nearest to where Tenko and the others are fighting so he can contain the supplies and make them easier to carry, then head towards the base camp that’s been set up for the hibernation period. Compress’s phone rings as the two of you hurry along. It’s Twice, and you can hear him shouting even though he’s not on speaker. “Do you have her? He’s going to want to see her.”

“I’m here,” you say. No matter what, you make sure you’re there when the fighting pauses. It’s the only time you get to see Tenko these days. “How is he?”

“This was a rough one,” Twice says, but he says that every time. “Better hurry.”

You pick up the pace until you’re practically jogging. It’s been three days since you saw Tenko, and you’ve missed him a lot more than you want to let on to the others. You know they don’t question your commitment to the League or your devotion to him. You just don’t want them to know how far it really goes.

You reach the base camp a few seconds before Tomura and Twice do, and it’s just enough time for Compress to release the supplies and for you to set them down before Tomura collides with you. You realize instantly that Twice wasn’t kidding – instead of his usual limp exhaustion, Tomura’s shaky, and when he hugs you, you can feel his heart beating through his ribs. The level of adrenaline in his system must be absurd. He’s not getting to sleep like this, and if you wait for him to crash, he’ll be exhausted by the time the fighting picks back up again.

You piece together a plan on the fly, a plan that will hopefully net you some time to make sure he eats and get him at least an hour of uninterrupted sleep. Tomura’s trying to put on his gloves without letting go of you. You step back out of his embrace and take hold of his wrist. “Come with me.”

You don’t tell Twice and Compress where you’re going or what you’re doing, but you have a feeling they can guess. As much as that makes you cringe, it’s not enough to stop you. This is important. You have to calm Tomura down if you want him to sleep at all, and even though it’s selfish, you want a chance to be close to him again. Tomura puts on his gloves clumsily as you walk, his hands shaking too badly to fasten the Velcro around his wrists. You stop walking, turn, and do it for him. Then you take both his hands in yours and pull him forward into a kiss.

Tenko kisses you back with enthusiasm, in spite of the fact that his lips split and bleed instantly, that his hands are shaking so badly that he can barely hold onto yours. You nudge him a few steps backwards, and a few more, until he’s leaning against a tree. You’re not pinning him, exactly, but it’s close. “Hey,” Tenko mumbles against your mouth. You don’t want to interrupt him, so you switch to kissing his neck, conscious of just how little time you have. “Where did you go? Twice said you left.”

“Supply run.” You pull his jacket down from his shoulders, then tug the neckline of his shirt aside to kiss him there. “I made sure I’d be back in time. I wouldn’t have risked not seeing you.”

“I know.” The affection in Tenko’s voice is direct and obvious enough to make you blush. “We’re making progress. I’m wearing him down.”

“You’re a wreck.” You ignore the insulted noise he makes, a noise that turns sharp when your teeth scrape along his collarbone. “Something happened today. What was it?”

“Twice doubles you, sometimes. In case I get hurt and the others aren’t close enough to help.” Tenko’s grip on you is bruising. “He didn’t tell me he’d done it. That thing got to you. It threw you –”

And he wouldn’t have seen the copy dissolve, the way all of Twice’s copies do when they take too much damage. He’d have thought Gigantomachia killed you, and he probably wouldn’t have believed Twice when Twice told him it was just a clone. “I’m okay,” you tell him. You bite his shoulder lightly to underscore the point, making him shiver. “I was a long way away from this.”

“I don’t want you a long way away. I need you – here –”

You slide your hand under his shirt and run your fingers along his flank, swallowing alarm at just how prominent his ribs are. Then you trace downward, finding the waist of his pants. Tenko goes tense. “What are you doing?”

“I need you to relax, or you won’t be able to fall asleep in time,” you explain in between kisses to his neck. “This is the best way.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“No,” you say. “I miss you.”

“Me, too. No, you, too. I mean – fuck, I miss you too.” Tenko fumbles the sentence, but that doesn’t surprise you. Underneath the adrenaline rush, he’s exhausted, and you did just stick your hand down his pants. “Fuck, that feels good –”

“Good.” You tug his pants and underwear down to free his cock. “Relax.”

Tenko slumps, half against the tree, half against you. “What about you?” he mumbles.

“Don’t think about that.” You kiss his cheek, the corner of his jaw, and begin to stroke his cock in earnest. “Let me take care of you.”

It kills you that this is the best you can do – one quick hookup in the forest, before you feed him whatever he’s willing to eat along with a bunch of vitamins to make up for the nutrients he’s not getting and try to get him to fall asleep. But you’re never anything but pleased to have a chance to be close to him, and it amazes you how completely Tenko gives up control. His legs shift apart to make more room for your hand, tilts his head to one side so you can go back to kissing his neck, moans when your lips move over his scars. One hand is scrabbling for purchase on the trunk of the tree you’re leaning against. The other is glued to you, struggling to work its way under your jacket and shirt to make contact with your skin.

You told him not to worry about you, but you’re going to have a hard time walking back to the others like this. Your face is hot and you’re way too wet for the fact that you barely kissed him. This is Tenko’s fault. It’s his fault for going from too embarrassed to let you see his face when he comes to letting go of any sense of shame, and it’s your fault for finding it really hot. Are you really this addicted to being wanted, needed? When it comes to Tenko, absolutely.

The two of you have been together long enough now that you know when he’s close, just by the way his breath catches and his hips jerk. You pull away, ignoring Tenko’s protests, and sink to your knees in front of him. When you glance up, you find him staring at you, jaw dropped and face flushed. “It’s not as messy,” you say by way of explanation. You steady yourself with one hand on his hip and lean in to take his cock in your mouth.

Blowjobs aren’t your favorite thing in the world, but you’re a big fan of the effect they have on Tenko. You’ve gotten better at handling your gag reflex, and you never have to handle it for very long. Tenko lasts maybe thirty seconds before he gasps out a warning and his hips jerk sharply forward. You don’t let up, even when the taste of his cum fills your mouth. You don’t just need him calm, you need him relaxed to the point where he can barely keep his eyes open, and drawing back by degrees, lavishing attention on his tip as your hand closes around his length, is the only way you can think of to make it stick.

Tenko squirms but doesn’t tell you to stop, and a few small spurts of cum paint your tongue. You stop, draw back, and swallow a few times. Then you look up to see the results for yourself.

You’re sort of worried you might have killed him. He looks semiconscious, his chest rising and falling rapidly, lips split and mouth open to pant for breath. You pick yourself up off the ground, bringing his coat with you, and he pushes it away in favor of struggling to pull up his pants. His free hand slides almost absentmindedly between your legs, rubbing you through your jeans, and you’re so turned on that the sensation makes you gasp.

You struggle to stay focused. “We don’t have time.”

“It won’t take long.” Tenko’s eyes are barely open, but his mouth tilts into a crooked grin.

Once he’s got his pants up, he goes after yours, one hand down the front of them just like you did to him. His fingers brush your clit, then dip lower, and when you try to pull away, his other hand seizes your hip and pulls you against him, too tight to pull away. “Tenko,” you protest again. “There’s not enough time –”

“Not with that attitude.”

Your attitude isn’t going to matter all that much. Just like you’ve gotten to know his body, he knows yours – which means he probably knows how badly you want his fingers inside you and how frustrated you are that he won’t stop teasing your clit. But your attitude doesn’t matter, and you need him enough to take what you can get. It’s been a month since you were together like this. You miss him too much to say no.

His touch sends sparks through you, and you bite back a gasp. It’s hard to spread your legs wider when you’re standing, but you give it your best shot, and Tenko slides two fingers inside you. He mimics the shallow thrusts that drive you insane when you have sex, only this time, he’s been teasing you too long for you to hold out. You bury your face in his shoulder as his languid, barely-enough touches tip you over the edge.

When he speaks, he sounds triumphant – or maybe smug. “Told you it wouldn’t take long.”

You don’t know how much time Tenko just burned through. Too much. “Come on. We need to go back.”

“Say I’m right first.”

“Fine. You’re right.”

“I know.” Tenko yawns. “Love you.”

You kiss him instead of responding in kind, your mouth coming away bloody. “Let’s go.”

If Twice and Compress know what you were up to, they have the sense not to comment on it. If Dabi was here instead of off cultivating an ally, you’d never hear the end of it. You sit Tomura down next to the fire Twice must have built and dive into the supply box, coming up with food and water and the collection of vitamins you sorted out on the train. Tomura shakes his head. “I’m tired.”

“You need to eat.” Your plan might have worked a little too well. You hold two energy bars out to him and he grimaces. “Okay, fine. If you won’t eat, at least take these.”

Tomura makes an even worse face at the sight of the pills. “What are those?”

“Vitamins,” Compress says from across the fire. “Saintess has decided that we’ll get our essential nutrients one way or the other.”

“That’s right. I don’t want to have to treat any of you for scurvy,” you say. Twice snickers. You return your attention to Tomura and pull out your only remaining weapon, other than a whiny-girlfriend guilt-trip. “If you won’t eat and take your medicine, you can’t use me as a pillow.”

“Oh, come on.”

“You already did,” you say as quietly as possible. Tomura tries to glare at you, but the effect’s spoiled both by his mouth twitching as he tries to hold in laughter and the enormous yawn that swallows up whatever retort he was going to come up with. “Just eat a little bit. Please.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Tomura mutters, and you know you’ve won. You pass over the water bottle, followed by the pills. “Otherwise this would be annoying as hell.”

“I’d be a bad sidekick if I didn’t take care of you,” you say. “And I’d be a bad medic if I let any of you pass out from vitamin deficiency.”

“Or get scurvy,” Twice hoots.

“Scurvy?” Spinner and Toga are back, Spinner to relieve Compress and Toga to continue her mission to collect some of Gigantomachia’s blood. It hasn’t worked yet, but it keeps her busy. “Who has scurvy?”

“All of us, according to Saintess,” Twice says, cackling. “She’s gonna make us take our vitamins.”

“That’s right,” you say, as Tomura downs a handful of pills and chases them with half the water bottle. You’re worried you’ll have to fight him over the energy bar, but he peels back the wrapper and takes a bite without prompting. “Twice, get over here. You’re next.”

“So the supply pickup went okay,” Spinner says, coming closer as you hand Twice his vitamins. “You didn’t run into any trouble with Giran?”

“He gave me a hard time for not being a real villain, but that’s it,” you say. “He found the gauntlets you and Twice asked for. And the spare parts for your gear, Toga.”

“I can fix it while we’re waiting,” Toga says brightly. She peers into the supply box, then emerges immediately with a gasp. ���This is a cute little gun! Who’s it for?”

“Me,” Spinner says at once. “I need a ranged weapon until I get better at throwing knives.”

You wonder if Spinner knows he’s covering for you. You can ask him later, once Tomura’s asleep. Toga doesn’t look convinced. “You need something bigger,” she says. “You have muscles. It’ll look silly if you’re holding such a small gun.”

“I’ll tell Saintess to send it back, then,” Spinner says. “Quit messing with it. It might be loaded.”

You’re pretty sure it’s not loaded, but your internet gun safety research made sure to point out that even if the gun looks empty, there could still be a round in the chamber – and Toga’s having a little too much fun pointing it around and striking poses. You need to put a pin in that, and you’ve got just the thing. “If you don’t quit messing around with that, I’m not going to tell you who I met today.”

“You just met Giran,” Toga says. You allow a smirk to cross your face. “Wait, who else? You have to tell me!”

“Put the gun away. Then I’ll think about it.”

“Saintess –”

The sound of a wrapper crumpling up yanks you clear of Toga’s whining, and you glance over to see that Tomura’s eaten both energy bars and finished the bottle of water. He looks even sleepier than before. “Okay,” you say. “How do you want to do this?”

Over the last month, Tomura’s tried out a variety of positions for using you as a pillow, and his favorite involves him sprawled out on top of you with his head on your chest. Your favorite is when he’s got his head in your lap and you can mess with his hair, but you’re not the one running a potentially-deadly sleep deficit. You find a rock to lean back against, and Tomura flops down on you. Usually he rustles around a bit, trying to get comfortable, but this time he’s out like a light as soon as his head hits your chest. It’s a deeper sleep than usual, which is good. He needs every second.

It’s not until you hear snickering that you realize where one of Tomura’s hands has landed. “I knew the boss was a boob guy,” Twice crows as you move Tomura’s hand off your breast, cringing the whole way. “There’s no way to go wrong. No, bullshit! The ass is where it’s at!”

Spinner shushes him, looking about as uncomfortable as you feel. Toga, meanwhile, drops down next to you. “I put the gun away. Tell me who you met. Was it Izuku?”

You’ve met Izuku. As of today, you’re two for three on Toga’s hero crushes. “I met Uraraka.”

“Ochako?” Toga squeals. Thankfully, Tomura’s too deeply asleep to stir. “That’s even better! How did she look? Was she wearing her school uniform or her costume? Say it was her costume – no, her uniform! We’d look so cute if we matched, don’t you think?”

You think Uraraka wouldn’t have been nearly as nice to you if she’d known you were going to report back about her to Toga. “It wasn’t her costume or her uniform. Civilian clothes. She had this pink coat –”

“Like mine?”

“No, puffy,” you say. Toga nods, beaming. She gestures for you to go on. “Um, and she had a hat that matched. With a white pompom on it.”

Toga looks like she’s going to faint. “Did you talk to her?” she asks. You nod. “Did she mention me?”

You don’t want Toga to have a heart attack, but you also don’t want to lie. “She mentioned Tomura and Dabi and you,” you say. Toga blushes. “I asked her about Eri – I figured even civilians would know about that, since her picture was all over everything – and she said Eri mentioned you specifically.”

“Wait, she remembers us?” Spinner looks alarmed. “How much?”

“More than I thought she would,” you admit. “But apparently it’s good. She remembers that we took care of her.”

“Ochako told you that?”

You nod. “It seemed like it was messing with her. The idea that we’d treat a kid we kidnapped well.”

“It shouldn’t mess with her,” Twice says. “We kidnapped the explosion kid and we were nice to him, too. And he wasn’t even cute.”

“I don’t like him. He’s mean,” Toga complains. “We should have stolen Izuku instead. He looks so cute covered in blood – I know you’d like him, Saintess –”

“I met him.”

Toga’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out of her head. She swats you on the shoulder. “When?”

It takes her fifteen minutes to forgive you for not mentioning that you handed Eri off directly to Midoriya himself, and another fifteen minutes for her to interrogate you for every detail of that interaction, too. “You’d tell me if you met Tsu, right?” she demands, looking like she’s this close to drawing a knife on you. “You wouldn’t hide that from me. You wouldn’t dare.”

“I haven’t met her,” you say. “If I do, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

“Which one is Tsu?” Spinner probably wishes he’d left this conversation half an hour ago, but for some reason he’s still hanging on. “The pink one?”

“No, look!” Toga’s downloaded every UA Sports Festival video to her phone. She pulls one up and shows Spinner. “I love her big eyes and her hair – and she’s so mean! She says we’re not friends, but I know we are –”

“You have a crush on a heteromorph?”

Toga gives Spinner a weird look. “You can’t have her, she’s mine. But you’d have a crush on her, too.”

“That wouldn’t be weird. I’m a heteromorph. But you –” Spinner stops, shakes his head. “Forget it.”

“It’s okay.” Toga pats his shoulder. “Love is just weird like that. It doesn’t care about the stuff we care about. Like Tomura-kun and Saintess. Tomura loves her and he says it all the time. She loves him too but she never says it back. I would hate it if someone did that to me! But they don’t mind, so it’s fine.”

She gives Spinner a meaningful look. “I don’t mind, so it’s fine. Besides, I’m a heteromorph, too.”

She is, technically speaking – her amber eyes and almost-fangs are far enough from the human standard to count – but it’s a tone-deaf thing to say to someone like Spinner, who can’t hide who he is. You can tell it bothers him, but he stays put, and Toga eventually gets up to repair her support items. And Spinner stays. It occurs to you that he might want to talk to you. Alone.

He doesn’t speak up until there are twenty-eight minutes left on the clock, when it’s just him leaning against one side of the rock and you with Tomura fast asleep in your arms on the other. “How come you don’t say it?”

“What?”

“Toga’s right. He says it all the time, but you never do.” Spinner is cringing, like he can’t believe he’s saying this. You can’t believe he’s saying it, either. “What’s the deal? Do you – not?”

“Why are you asking me that?” You don’t mean to sound as defensive as it comes out, but you’re honestly confused. Then it occurs to you why Spinner, the person in the League who’s least likely to comment on anybody else’s life, is bringing it up. “Did he say something?”

“When? In between trying not to get flattened by Machia and sleeping for two hours at a stretch?” Spinner can’t make eye contact with you. He keeps looking away. “He said something one time while we were hiding. Asked if it was normal that you wouldn’t say it, like I know anything about girls.”

You think Spinner would probably do okay with girls once they got to know him. “If anything goes wrong with you two, it’ll snap his focus and he’ll get us all killed,” Spinner continues. “I want to see his vision come true and I don’t want to die. So I’m asking. That’s why.”

“I do,” you say. Spinner looks relieved, but he doesn’t look surprised. “I don’t know why I don’t say it. It feels like – a lot. Like something will happen. I don’t know what.”

Spinner gives you a curious look. “Something bad?”

“Just something.” This is making you feel stupid. “I do, though. I thought it was obvious.”

“I mean, it is.” Spinner gestures awkwardly at the two of you. Tomura’s still dead to the world, and maybe drooling a little bit. You must be really far gone, because you think it’s sort of cute. “Like I said. I don’t know anything about girls, but I don’t think someone who didn’t love somebody else would put it on the line like this. It was just a question. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You want to stop talking about this, and you’ve got a question for him. “Why’d you cover for me earlier? You must have known the gun was mine.”

“It would have freaked him out.” Spinner doesn’t have to say who he’s talking about. “He thinks it’s his job to protect you, since you’re his sidekick. And his girlfriend. And if you’re using a gun, you can commit actual crimes. The kind people get put away for. I don’t think he wants that.”

You’re pretty sure you’re already going away if you get caught. You haven’t directly participated except in the attack on the CRC, but that was probably enough to put you within Kazuo’s search parameters, and if your interaction with Uraraka told you anything, it’s that the villain named Saintess is officially on the heroic radar. But Spinner’s got a point. Right now you can only be charged as an accomplice to the League’s crimes. That charge carries a significantly lighter sentence than whatever you’d do with a gun.

Still – “Tomura can’t be everywhere,” you say. He stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake. “I can’t have him getting distracted trying to look after me, so I have to be able to look out for myself.”

Spinner doesn’t answer, but you know he knows you’re right. “Don’t tell anybody I have it,” you say.

“I’m not going to lie to him.”

“Don’t lie to him. If he says “hey, Spinner, does my girlfriend have a gun”, tell him the truth.” As far as you’re concerned, it never needs to get that far. “Just don’t tattle on me.”

“Don’t say tattle. Say snitch,” Spinner corrects. ‘It sounds more – villain.”

That’s the second person today who’s knocked you for not being villainous enough. “Fine. Don’t snitch on me.”

“Deal,” Spinner says. It’s quiet for a moment. “Do you ever think about what happens when we win?”

“You and me come up with a new world that doesn’t suck?”

“Besides that,” Spinner says. “Like what has to happen for it to count as a win. We don’t all have the same answer. Toga thinks it’s a win as long as the stuff she likes makes it through. Twice probably thinks it’s a win if Toga makes it, and Compress probably just wants to do the same stuff he’s always done and not get arrested. Who even knows about Dabi.”

“He’s got a mission,” you say, and Spinner snorts. You’re starting to see where he’s headed with this. “What about you and me?”

“We win if we build the new world,” Spinner says. He glances down at Tomura, whose hand has migrated back to your breast in his sleep. You move it off again. “And we lose if he’s not in it.”

You blink, taken aback. “I don’t have another best friend,” Spinner continues. “I can’t replace the one I have. And you can’t replace him.”

“I know,” you say. And then, without thinking: “I tried.”

Spinner stares at you, opens his mouth, but before he can say a word – and before you can backtrack straight to Yokohama – your phone starts buzzing in your pocket. So does everybody else’s, plus Spinner’s watch and your stupid laptop, which is shut and supposed to be off in your backpack. The clamor sends a jolt of pure fear down your spine, just like it does every time you hear it. It’s your timer, synced to everyone else’s. Gigantomachia’s awake.

Tomura lurches awake, in command from the second his eyes open. “Twice, send out a double to buy us time. Make it run.”

“It can only run as fast as you can –”

“I’ve gotten faster. Send it to the hills. He’ll have a harder time with the terrain.” Tomura gets to his feet, and you scramble after him. He turns to you. “Get clear. We’ll drop a pin once we have a new campsite. Will you –”

There’s not time for that question, and he should know the answer. You silence him with a kiss. “I’ll be there.”

He’s already peeling off his gloves, fastening on his family’s hands, scanning the horizon. “I love you.”

You remember what Spinner said. The question Tomura apparently asked him. How just showing it might not be enough. That you shouldn’t expect it to be enough – but you can’t get the words out. You need to try something else. You grab his hand, careful to avoid his fingers, and raise it to your lips, kissing the heel of his hand, the center of his palm, the ridges of his knuckles. His hands have so many scars now. He’s being hurt, and you can’t help him. There’s nothing you can do.

Tomura’s grip on your hand tightens, index fingers raised. The ground rattles slightly beneath your feet, and he lets go. “Run.”

Compress has already contained the supplies; Twice has stomped out the fire. He and Spinner have their gauntlets, and Toga’s support item is fixed. They’re ready to go, and so should you be. You spare one more glance for Tomura, then turn to flee, bolting into the woods alongside Compress as Gigantomachia’s silhouette appears over the horizon.

The two of you shed your disguises at the outskirts of the same town, uncompressing the supplies to reorganize them. “Spinner forgot his gun,” Compress remarks. “Shall I hold onto it?”

“I will,” you say. “We’ll see him at the same time, and nobody’s going to search me.”

Compress nods. “I’ll be getting some sleep. I’m three days behind. What about you?”

Your phone pings with a fresh text, and your heart sinks when you see the number. “I’ve got some stuff to take care of. Keep me updated.”

Compress nods again, and the two of you split. He heads down the street, probably aiming for the capsule hotel you scoped out on your way into town, and you go in the opposite direction, towards the train station. You don’t check your messages until you’re waiting on the platform.

You texted Kazuo a few days ago, asking him a question, ordering him not to look unless his health allows it. You’ve been anxiously awaiting his reply, if it comes at all, and now you’ve gotten six texts from him in a row. Your heart races as you open them.

Kazuo: Yoshimi is in remission. Mitsuko and Ryuhei are supporting her in your absence. All three appear to be doing well.

Kazuo: Their involvement with your friend has not been noticed.

That’s good news. You’ve been thinking about her. And about them. For a moment, you’re almost suffocated by a wish that you could celebrate with them. You gave up your old life, your old friends. And you miss them even more than you thought you would. You swallow hard and keep reading.

Kazuo: Your codename has appeared on the official roster for the League of Villains. They are attempting to track you by quirk and criminal history, and therefore coming up empty.

Kazuo: I’ll keep you clear as long as I can, but if they sufficiently alter their questions, I won’t be able to.

Kazuo: I was able to look into the question you gave me. It was specific enough to instantly rule out all other answers, so I thank you for that.

Kazuo: The answer is yes. Congratulations.

Your eyes go blurry, and a second later, your throat closes off. Your train arrives, but you don’t get on it – instead you sit down on a bench, staring down at the floor between your feet, trying not to cry and furious with yourself for wanting to cry at all. You asked Kazuo to use his quirk and see if you – you, identified by your birthdate, blood type, height, career, and city you were born in, for all the specifics he could ever need – have a latent quirk. You trust his word over the doctor’s. His quirk isn’t wrong, ever. You told yourself that you’d accept his answer as the truth. You were hoping he’d say no.

Instead he says yes. You do have a latent quirk, something that’s been hidden your whole life because the conditions necessary to awaken it have never been met. They’ll probably never be met, and your quirk is probably worse than useless, but the fact that it’s latent means you’ve spent your whole life being treated like you’re quirkless when you aren’t. You should feel cheated. Instead you feel betrayed.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. If you don’t know what it is, it’s like you don’t have it at all. Nothing needs to change. You don’t need to tell anyone. You tell yourself that, but it doesn’t make much of a different. The doctor knows, and so does Kazuo. So does All For One.

The next train arrives long before you’ve calmed down, but you get up and shamble aboard anyway. Nobody looks at you – not for long, anyway. Most people go out of their way to avoid seeing others’ pain. When your eyes have cleared a little bit, you take your phone out and start looking up firing ranges. You might not be able to be useful to Tenko and the others with your stupid, latent quirk. But you can definitely be useful to them with a gun.

[niki-phoria]

pairing: leon x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: comfort/fluff word count: 941

warnings: one cuss word, mentions of blood, canon typical violence, very brief description of reader having a panic attack

includes: re2 leon, they're supposed to be in the basement of the police department yk, are the infected monsters or zombies ?? i call them zombies in this, finally finished re4 so i've been playing re2 dklndslks thinking about playing elden ring too

a/n: big thank you to 🍬 anon for the idea i hope you like it !!

summary: leon comforting you after you get attacked

requests open !! read my rules first

“fuck!” every nerve in your body ignites as a zombie jumps onto you from the darkness. it’s a woman - or the remains of one. she has a giant gash against her cheek and a deep bite wound in her shoulder where she was bitten. 

“y/n!” you can barely hear leon over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. the woman snarls as her body hovers over yours. you push against her, desperately trying to keep her away from you. her teeth gnash and she scratches desperately at you. you raise your knee up in an attempt to kick her off of you, successfully throwing her far enough to reach for your gun. it feels so far away. too far. 

your savior comes in the form of a familiar blonde - leon - throwing the zombie off of you and firing a few shots into her head. you take the opportunity to scramble to your feet, following his lead. 

the snarls of more of the undead forcefully bring you back to reality. it feels like there are hundreds of them - all swarming, biting, clawing at you. you fire off a few shots into the hoard as leon reaches over to grab your arm. “let’s go!” he shouts over their snarls as he pulls you along with him through the precinct in a desperate search for safety. 

you’re given a short reprieve when you turn another sharp corner. leon all but drags you into the room before you slam the door shut behind him. it’s the remains of an office; likely belonging to a superior officer as evidenced by the couch in the corner and large wooden desk. “help me with this,” he says, gesturing to a large metal shelf. you rush over to him, leaning against the wall as you shove it against the door. the zombies pounding against it from the outside only spur you to move faster. 

leon coaxes you to stand behind him and back away from the door. it’s only after a few seconds of the door holding steady that you finally let out a small breath of relief. he reaches over, taking your hand into his and gently squeezing it. a reminder - i’ve got you. you’re safe now.

“we can’t kill them all,” he sighs, leaning to look out of the windowed door further into the zombie-infested hallway. “let’s try to find somewhere safe. get some rest for the night.” 

“okay,” you nod. leon shines his flashlight through the window again before turning back to you with a small nod. slowly, you push the door open before slipping out of the room and back into the precinct’s winding basement hallways. 

finding a secluded area is easy enough. you lock yourselves in a small room that was formerly used to monitor prisoners in the jail cells. leon pushes another shelf to barricade the doors while you search through the various cabinets. thankfully, there’s a small stash of handgun ammunition and another small combat knife that you pocket. 

finally in silence, the adrenaline coursing through your veins begins to slow. the anxiety and fear you had been repressing suddenly comes at you full force. your hands tremble and your heart rate speeds up - the beginning signs of a panic attack. desperate for some sort of relief, you sit down and attempt to take a few breaths to calm yourself.

“y/n?” leon is quick to notice your change in emotion, setting his gun aside and kneeling down beside you. “hey, y/n,” he whispers, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. his touch is gentle - careful - as if you’re a feral animal about to flee. he wipes a stray tear away from your eyes. 

“leon,” you choke out, throwing your arms around his shoulders. your tears stain against the thick kevlar of his body armor. the material feels rough against your skin, though at the moment neither of you care. he wraps his arms around your waist a little tighter as you bury your face into his neck. 

“breathe, honey,” he coaxes your head away from his shoulder and brings his hands up to gently hold your face. “just breathe.” 

you take a few shaky breaths, forcing the air into your lungs. leon demonstrates a few deep breaths that you do your best to follow until your head isn’t dizzy anymore and your body doesn’t feel like it’s constricting into itself. once you’ve relaxed a little you pull him back into a hug, desperate for the feeling of safety that comes with leon’s arms around you. 

“it’s okay. i’ve got you,” he brings a hand up to rub against your back. it’s become a habit since you first became friends and later started dating. “you’re gonna be okay.” 

the words repeat in your head like a mantra. you cling onto leon a little tighter as he leans down and presses a kiss against your forehead. you sniffle, pulling away just enough to frantically wipe the tears from your cheeks. “i’m sorry,” you whisper. it’s feels pathetic - crying against your boyfriend - but it feels impossible to stop. 

“don’t apologize,” leon gently coaxes you back into his hold. “it’s okay. we’re safe now. they can’t hurt us in here.” 

you sniffle as you nod. “i love you.” 

leon shifts so his back is against the wall instead of yours. you lean your head against his chest as he wraps his arms around you to keep your body close to him. “i love you too,” he whispers. he leans down to press a kiss against your forehead. “i’ll get us out of here. i promise.”

[little-orange-bastard]

Chapter 4: One For The Road...

@pepperonyscience @authortobenamedlater @thefinaljediknight @p0tat0-g0ddess @ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask @helix-enterprises117 @purple-purple-pink-purple (Out of character, just real quick I appreciate everyone's patience with the delay to the campaign. The bug that blew through the ToBeNamedLater household had myself an ATBNL down pretty hard. We are doing much better, so back to it!) STORY CONTINUES BELOW: Picking up where our story left off, and advancing the story timeline slightly, all of you have evacuated your dead bunker and are on a dusty remain of a highway. Your group is a motley collection of fangirls @authortobenamedlater @thefinaljediknight @p0tat0-g0ddess. You also have one cattle wrangler @ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask, a pilot (latecomer @purple-purple-pink-purple who was sleeping in the back room of the bunker for the last six months because that's just how much naps moms need to catch up) and a human survivor @helix-enterprises117 with an overpowered cybernetic fist that makes him look a bit like a fiddler crab. Despite the time being high noon, the sky has an orange haze on account of the extra particulates in the atmosphere, the telltale signs that a nuclear winter could be coming. Off in the distance you can see the burnt out remains of a city with the barely legible roadsigns indicating it is the town of Pueblo, Colorado.

Very little seems to be moving on the surface. You've seen a few scavengers, mostly crows, vultures and carrion eaters but nothing else of significance. You have heard a few rustles of *something* that seems to be following you, but haven't been able to make it out. The roadway is littered with the remains of burned out cars, the bodies now just skeletons or ash. The air is cold and dry on account of the reduced solar gain, lack of precipitation, and shortened days for October. You are all wearing matching desert camouflage uniforms (DCU's) surplus from the Desert Storm era. They blend in fairly well to the environment. For equipment you each have a matching pack in the same camouflage pattern. Inside each pack is the following: a bedroll, a poncho tarp for shelter, some waterproof matches, some water purification straws, a change of clothes and extra underwear/socks, a hand crank emergency AM/FM radio receiver and flashlight combo, a first aid kit, compass, map, spare boot laces, some fishing equipment and some paracord. You each also have a few quarts of water apiece along with some survival lifeboat rations, enough to last a week or so with careful use. For weapons, you each at a minimum are equipped with a survival knife and sheath. You all managed to scavenge a few other weapons in the bunker. For firearms there are two Glock handguns of mismatched calibers (9mm and .45 automatic respectively) and limited ammunition for each of just three preloaded magazines apiece due to weight and size limits. There is a singular AR-pattern rifle with iron sights and two magazines. The rest are carrying either a baseball bat, crowbar or tire iron as they choose to do so. These arms are distributed among the group to those that are best trained in their use. Overall, you aren't in the worst condition weapon-wise, but it's clear that scavenging ammunition and being selective with your engagements is going to be critical for now. An extended firefight could draw a lot of attention and burn through your at-present limited ammunition needlessly. Your orange avatar is riding in @authortobenamedlater's pocket. He hasn't said much lately other than the direction to go is northwest. The town of Pueblo is presently to your due north and you are just on the outskirts around the dried remains of Lake Minnequa. Your little group also has a fold-up DeLorme topographical map with the words "Candy Mountain" written in purple crayon and an X crudely drawn over the Almagre Mountain range approximately 50 miles to your north. This would seem to be your destination. The question is, how are you going to get there? It's 50 miles of mostly desert with not much there between Pueblo and the base of the mountain. That's a long way on foot with limited supplies. There appear to be three obvious possible avenues. One is the BNSF railyard in the middle of the bombed out remains of Pueblo which is filled with who knows what. Maybe transportation. Maybe looters. Maybe monsters. There's also the Pueblo airport out east which may offer some options but is in the opposite direction for travel to your destination. You might find something there, or then again it could be a red herring. Circling around Pueblo to the rest there's the aptly named suburb of Pueblo West. Doesn't seem like there's much in the way of transportation choice there, but they do have a number of shops that may yield important supplies. You're sure that you wouldn't be the only survivors thinking the same thing.

There may be other options yet open to you but there’s a problem. Your group is split on which direction to go. The limited weapons and deciding who got what proved to be incredibly unpopular and onerous in the extreme. It's clear that leadership is going to have to be decided on before following whichever path.

[temptingfatetakingnames]

The Last Steve Harrington

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

The apocalypse sucked.

The sky was always the same depressing shade of Vecna Scarlet and Steve hadn’t seen the sun in 432 days. Or what he thought had been 432 days. It was hard to tell sometimes without anything to mark the passage of time. He tried to sleep when he was tired but couldn’t let his guard down with Demodogs and Demobats roaming around. Vecna had left Hawkins, but the open portals still spit out the occasional Upside Down monster. Sleeping also meant dreaming and nightmares. Steve didn’t know which were worse; the dreams where everyone was alive and he had to wake up or the nightmares where he watched them die over and over again. He didn’t sleep much.

He had slowly made his way through every house in the area looking for food and supplies, but there was only one left. Which meant it was time to leave Hawkins. He would scavenge the last house and then head out. He didn’t really have a plan but figured he would just start walking in the opposite direction to the one Vecna had taken. He went up to the house and broke the glass above the door. Sticking his hand in carefully to avoid the shards, he unlocked it from the inside. He opened the door and listened carefully for any movement before heading to the kitchen.

He checked the cupboards first, knowing not to touch the fridge. The power had turned off in the first few months of Vecna’s invasion and never came back on. The first few cupboards had plates and dishware so he kept looking until he came across the canned goods. The first cans were baked beans.

“Why is there always beans?” Steve asked himself. He fucking hated beans. Moving them to the side, he spotted canned peaches and Campbell’s soup.

“Jackpot.”

He grabbed them, put them on the counter, and went searching for water. Food had never been a problem but water was getting harder to find. The grocery store and super-market had been cleaned out of bottled water after the ‘earthquake,’ and the taps weren’t working anymore. There also hadn’t been any rain since Vecna fucked up the sky so no way to get fresh water. Luckily, he found some bottles in the pantry, along with stale cookies. Delicious. He grabbed his backpack off his shoulder and dumped everything out onto the counter.

The backpack had all his worldly possessions. The peaches and soup went to the bottom of the bag with the rest of his canned goods. He ate the cookies as he repacked. He used to have more clothes but they were a waste of space. Underwear and socks were the only spare clothes he kept anymore. He also had a blanket, flashlight, lighter, cigarettes, ammunition, spare batteries for his Walkman, some tapes, and Dustin’s copy of The Hobbit. He shoved his bat back down the side and zipped it up to keep everything in place. Unclipping his canteen from the side, he refilled it with the bottled water.

He hefted the bag, pleased that the new cans didn’t add too much weight and threw it back over his shoulder. Steve looked down for a moment, taking stock of himself. Boots from War Zone were laced up to his ankles. A machete was strapped to his left leg with the holster for his handgun right above it. His jeans were filthy but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Every bit of him was covered in grime, water too precious to use for washing. He had a thick grey sweater on with Eddie’s jacket layered over top. He nodded. Time to go.

After leaving the house, Steve looked around. When he had started scavenging, he had worked his way from the heart of Hawkins and moved outwards. He had saved this house for last because it was on the very outskirts of the city. Walking to the road he looked right then left. Left led back to Hawkins and right led out of the city.

“Good-bye,” he said to the only home he had ever known and turned right down the road.

The only good thing about the sky being fucked was he didn’t have to worry about the weather anymore. The bad thing about the sky being fucked was no plants could grow anymore and all the trees were either dead or dying, leaving very little cover on the open road. Steve hated feeling so exposed, but at least he could also see anything coming towards him. Stopping for a moment, he took his Walkman out of the bag and popped in his Bruce Springsteen tape. He put the headphones around his neck and turned the volume all the way up. He needed to be able to hear so he never put the headphones over his ears.

He had a few tapes in his bag but Springsteen was his favourite. He had listened through it twice when a distortion appeared in front of him. It looked like a portal, the edges of reality bending into a focal point. It shimmered and cracked with electricity. Jesus Christ, Steve could not handle Demodogs or Demobats in the middle of nowhere without any cover or defensible position. He could handle one dog, maybe a couple of bats. But what were the odds that only a manageable few would come out of a portal? Slim to none. Steve was fucked.

Maybe that’s a good thing.

Steve had promised Dustin before he died that he would fight. That he would never give up. And over the past year, he had wanted to give up over and over and over. But he kept going. Because that promise was all he had left. But the portal was opening, and he was tired. There was nowhere for him to run. This was the end. Steve was… relieved. It was finally going to be over. He dropped his bag and took his bat out. He wouldn’t go down without a fight…he had promised after all.

The distortion pulsed once before breaking open into a doorway, Steve took a step back but stopped and stared in bewilderment when it wasn’t The Upside Down on the other side. The sky was blue and sunlight leaked out, close enough that Steve could feel its warmth. The grass was green and a sweet-smelling wind swept over him. His bat slipped from his fingers. Standing in front of him were his kids.

He was dead.

He didn’t know how it happened and he didn’t care.

He sobbed and ran to them.

Dustin. Max. Will. Eleven. Lucas. Mike.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He cried as he got closer. He reached Dustin first and crushed the younger man into his chest. The rest of them crowded in around him, hugging him. He opened his arms to gather them all close. Tears were streaming down his face as he laughed and cried and held them. He closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sun, feeling the warmth on his face. This was heaven. It must be. He had missed them so much. His kids.

“Where’s everyone else? Where’s Eddie?” he asked, looking around. He needed to see him. If Steve was dead, then he should be here, too. Everyone should be here.

“We didn’t tell them we were looking for you,” Dustin replied. “We didn’t want them to get their hopes up in case we couldn’t find you.”

That…made no sense. Steve dropped his arms and stepped back from them. Max and Eleven stuck close to his sides, holding on to the sleeves of his sweater like they were afraid he was going to float away.

“What?”

“It took El a long time, she traveled to-” Dustin trailed off and turned to Eleven, “how many did you go to El?”

“Thousands,” she said and nodded. “I would have gone to a thousand more.”

“I don’t understand. Thousands of what?”

“Parallel universes, Steve. Keep up!” Dustin said.

Steve blinked. Parallel what?

“You’re all dead,” Steve said slowly, “and I’m dead.”

“No!” they yelled.

“Our Steve died when we killed Vecna. El has been searching through parallel universes to find a Steve who had lost us and we finally found you,” Max chimed in for the first time.

“Why did it take so many?”

Eleven looked uncomfortable. “The circumstances had to be right. I could not take a Steve away from his family.” There was something they weren’t telling him. Eleven didn’t lie, but she was skirting the truth right now and Steve could tell.

“What were the others like? The other Steves?”

She turned away from him. Looked at Mike and then Dustin. Both of the younger boys looked back wide eyed and terrified. An awful feeling started curdling in Steve’s gut.

“Steve-” Dustin started but Eleven beat him to it.

“They all died, Steve. In every other universe Steve Harrington dies.”

“El!” Mike yelled.

“Friends do not lie.”

“Every one?” Steve asked, startled.

“Yes,” she replied. “Every one. Except for you.”

“How? How did they all die?”

“They sacrificed themselves to save us. To save the world.”

The words hung in the air around them. Steve turned back to the open portal that showed the hell-scape that was his home. He hadn’t sacrificed himself. He had lived and his world had ended. The truth smacked him hard in the face. If he had given up his life, everyone he cared about would still be alive. An easy choice to make for every single Steve Harrington in every single universe, except for him. The coward who chose himself.

He was going to be sick. He pushed the kids away and tumbled to his knees. He vomited into the grass, his body shaking from the force of it.

“I don’t belong here,” Steve whispered but Max heard him.

“Yes, you do,” she said with no hesitation.

“I’m the only one who didn’t sacrifice himself and my world ended. How the hell can I live with myself knowing that? Knowing that I doomed my whole world and everyone I loved because I was afraid?”

“I watched you die many times,” Eleven said. “Saving Dustin, or Max, or Eddie or me. Steve always put himself in front of us because he did not think he mattered as much as we did. So, I am glad that you were afraid. That in one universe you saved yourself. You deserve to live just as much as the rest of us. Don’t you think your Eleven or your Dustin would be happy you lived? That you made it back to us?”

“I don’t know! They’re dead and I’m not and I don’t know what to do with this – this new life you’re trying to give me. I don’t deserve it! I failed them! They needed me to be strong, to be their protector and instead I saved myself!” Steve stood up and pointed his finger at her. “You’re not my Eleven,” he said and then spun around to Dustin, “and you’re not my Dustin and I sure as shit am not your Steve.”

He was breathing erratically and couldn’t catch his breath properly. Steve spun and ran for the portal that would take him back to where he belonged. He would go home to the apocalypse he had created and he would let something kill him so he could be with his family. That’s all he deserved.

The world went black before he reached it.

Part 2

[boinkingbattlemechs]

Vapor Eagle

First appearing in the Inner Sphere with the arrival of Clan Steel Viper, ComStar operatives were baffled by the intended purpose of the close-combat second-line garrison BattleMech they named the Goshawk for its unusual birdlike design. It wasn't until Clan culture became more understood that Inner Sphere observers figured out what the Clans called the Vapor Eagle was designed as a duelist for the one-on-one fights that are so prevalent in Clan society.

Largely seen only in the Steel Viper garrison forces, the Vapor Eagle was repurposed less as a dueling 'Mech and more a general combatant in the wake of the so-called Hegira War and Clan Jade Falcon's ejection of the Vipers from the Inner Sphere. Reflecting the bitter lessons learned by the Steel Vipers in that conflict, their leadership reconfigured many 'Mechs in their touman to make them better suited to larger and more fluid engagements. The new Vapor Eagle 3 increasingly filled holes in Steel Vipers frontline units that saw action against Clans Snow Raven and Star Adder in the Viper's campaign to secure a dominant position in Clan Homeworlds immediately prior to the Wars of Reaving.

Built around one-on-one duels, the Vapor Eagle focuses a good deal on speed and maneuverability, and its weapons configuration emphasizes close-range firepower. Clad in nine tons of ferro-fibrous armor and built around a 330 rated Extralight fusion engine and an Endo Steel frame, the Vapor Eagle can reach 97.2 km/h on the ground and six jump jets allow it to cover 180 meters at a time. The inspiration for its Inner Sphere reporting name, the Vapor Eagle incorporates large arm baffles much like the venerable Griffin, but rather than blast deflectors the Vapor Eagle uses them more like wings to enhance its jump jets. While not as effective as the later Partial Wing as these stabilizing wings provide negligible lift, with some of the thrust from the torso jump jets diverted over their surface, the Vapor Eagle has very smooth and controllable jump flight allowing precision landings.

The Vapor Eagle features an eclectic and close-ranged weapons loadout, mounting a Large Pulse Laser in its right arm, supported by a single Machine Gun, two Streak SRM-2s and three Medium Pulse Lasers split between its side torsos and rounded out by a trio of Machine Guns in a handgun shaped housing in the left arm. The addition of a Targeting Computer makes its firepower even more deadly as long as it can get its weapons into range. Eleven Double Heat Sinks, half a ton of machine gun ammunition and one ton of Streak missiles are more than adequate for the average Clan Trial.

[historyofguns]

In the article "Don’t Make This First-Time Gun Owner Mistake" by Mike Boyle, published on The Armory Life, the author emphasizes the importance of careful selection and preparation for first-time gun owners. Boyle outlines four critical areas, termed "The Priorities," which include mental preparation, understanding of basic tactics, practical marksmanship, and possessing the right gear. He advises that choosing the right gun involves considering its intended use—whether for home defense or concealed carry—as these factors influence the appropriate size and weight. Notably, the article discourages small, sub-caliber pocket pistols for self-defense due to their poor performance and suggests considering service cartridges like the 9mm for reliable results. Boyle also discusses different pistol types, such as striker-fired and double-action models, recommending that new users practice diligently regardless of their choice. He reinforces that proper training and selecting a comfortable, manageable firearm are paramount for personal safety and effectiveness.

[aussiepineapple1st]

How Long? (Part 4)

Leon x F!Reader

Words: 2,180 Contains: Caring Husband Leon, Pregnancy.

Part 1 | Previous | Next

You wake up to the sound of shuffling in the snow outside the tent you slept in. Not wanting to get out of the warm sleeping bag, Leon had laid his own on top of you to give you that extra warmth. Shifting out of the thickly lined cocoon, you pull on your shoes and tie them up, doing up your pants with slight difficulty. You were already starting to not fit into your work pants, it's fine, you would just wear them a bit lower than usual.

Walking out of the tent the snow made everything bright, even though there was no sun. You saw Leon and Chris sitting around the fire, eating what seemed to be bacon and eggs as you approach.

Chris spots you first, stopping his conversation with Leon who turns to see who he was looking at. "Morning. We were about to go and wake you." Chris smiled as he pulls a pan sitting beside coals to keep it warm. Plating up the egg and 2 pieces of bacon, handing it to you.

"Thank you." You say digging in. Your stomach was growling, you were really hungry this morning. Leon's brows raise as he watched you tuck into your food. He shovels an egg and another piece of bacon from his own plate onto yours, you clearly needed it. Giving Leon a smile you eventually eat what he had given you, finishing everything.

Leon was currently standing behind you, he had just equipped himself with ammunition and 2 extra handguns to the one he had brought from home. Handing you an extra one to add to your own spare holster on your side. "You must've been hungry? Could it be because you didn't eat dinner last night?" He asked in a teasing tone.

"Could be." Is all you say, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of getting his desired reaction from you. You take the gun and stand up, throwing the paper plate into the fire before shoving the gun in your holster. Pulling the little strap over and clicking the button to secure it. Turning to look at Leon, he was standing there with his arms over his chest, eyes looking you up and down. "What?" You ask looking down to your body to see if you had spilt some food on your front?

"Nothing, you are just standing different."

"What is that supposed to mean?" You scrunch up your face, genuinely confused at his statement.

Leon just shakes his head with closed eyes, a subtle smile on his lips. Releasing his arms from their locked position over his chest he steps aside. "Chris is waiting for us to go visit the Winters."

You nod and walk passed your husband, making your way to the Ute Chris was waiting for you both in. Leon allows you to take the passenger seat in the front and sits in the back, leaving almost instantly to the Winters' home. You had been driving for half an hour before speaking up.

"So do you have a sighting on this Miranda person?" You ask Chris, pulling your gaze from the window to look at him beside you.

"We do, but... She keeps dropping off our radar during the day." He explained.

"But she comes back at night?" Leon asks from behind Chris. You turn to look at Leon then back to Chris for his answer.

He nods. "Yeah. She vanishes from sight at 4am and comes back at 1am without fail for the passed 2 months." Chris sighs. He was clearly frustrated with himself.

"You aren't able to track where she's going?" You ask.

"Not without alerting her to our presence. I believe we've stayed off her radar this long, we don't want to jeopardise the mission. That, but mainly risk the Winters being put in danger if she knows we're here to stop her."

You and Leon both seem to nod in sync, your gaze falling upon a beautiful old house in the distance. Chris pulls up at the front and turns off the engine. "We're here." He says opening his door and sliding out of the car.

You and Leon follow suit, walking up behind Chris to the front door. After he knocks there was a short time before a man opens the door, greeting you all and stepping aside to let you enter his home. The man wore jeans and a navy hoody under a flaxen jacket, his hair was short and blonde. The man's face was kind and you could see in his eyes that he was tired, probably been up early from his baby needing a feed.

"These are close friends, Leon and (Y/N). They've been assigned to help me with the current job I'm on." Chris introduced.

"Nice to meet you both." He shakes each of your hands then closed the door behind you. "Are you sure you don't need my help at all, Chris?"

"I'm sure Ethan, We just came to talk about how you and Mia are handling your new work schedule." Chris walks through to the dinning and lounge room area, seeming at home himself here.

"Please." Ethan offers you to both follow Chris into the living room, following behind. "Can I get either of you anything?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine." You smile shaking your head as you look around at all the pictures of the family. One standing out to you on the mantle above the fire. Staring at a picture of Mia, holding her belly with loving eyes. You smile as Leon walks up beside you, his hand resting on your lower back as he sees what you were looking at. You couldn't help but smile up at him.

"Are you both a couple?" Ethan asked seeing the way you stood together.

The question makes you both turn around, Leon removing his hand from your back and clearing his throat. He got caught in the moment and forgot you were on a job. "Yes, we're married." You answer with a smile, turning back around to see a picture of Mia with Rose. She didn't seem to be posing for the picture at all, it was taken in the spare of the moment. She looked at her baby daughter with such love.

"I see, please take a seat if you want?" Ethan offers the longer lounge, Chris currently sitting in a single armchair.

"No thank you, I was actually wondering if I could talk with Mia?" You ask. Leon was making his way over to the lounge.

"She's upstairs, just putting Rose down to sleep."

You nod with a smile, making your way to the front door and up the stairs you had seen when first entering. Making your way upstairs you wanted to be silent, and not wake Rose if she was already asleep. Once at the top of the stairs you hear humming, following the sound you hear who you assume to be Mia. Singing a tune to Rose, you peak through the cracked door to see her laying the baby in her crib.

"Rest well, sweet Rose. Not much longer before you are mine." She speaks down to the baby.

You frown, from what you knew about Miranda your hackles went up. Maybe you just heard her wrong? Knocking on the door after waiting for a moment, you didn't want her to think you had just heard what she said.

"Yes?" She called quietly. You clench your jaw, her voice sounded completely different to what you had just heard.

Opening the door slowly you peek your head through. "Hello, I was just coming up here to meet you and Rose. I will be quiet, Ethan told us you were putting her to bed."

"Oh, you must be the two agents Ethan was talking about last night?"

Crap! She knew who you were. You nod. "Yeah, my husband and I were assigned to help Chris with some field work." You say standing at the door, your hands awkwardly clasped in front of you. "May I?"

"Oh, yes." She motions for you to come over.

Walking over to the crib you see the sleeping baby, she looked so peaceful. Seeing her almost made you forget about the danger standing right beside you.

"You said you and your husband were here, right? Do you both have children?" The woman beside you asked.

"Oh.. no but." Should you tell her? Maybe it would give her some incentive to target you instead of this poor family. "We are expecting our first."

Mira- Mia placed her hands in front of her lips. "Oh, congratulations! I'm so happy for you both."

You give her a smile and then look down to Rose once more before stepping away from the crib. "I should probably get back to the others downstairs." You say before Mia nods to you and you walk out of the room. You try to keep your stride at a normal pace, keeping your footing light as to not wake Rose. Making your way down the stairs you enter the living room once again. Looking over to you Leon's expression dropped, he stood up quickly seeing your own expression. You had lost a bit of your colour and cheeks were flushed.

"What's wrong?" He asked, this had Chris turning towards you as well.

You shake your head. "I'm fine, I just need to sit down." You couldn't say anything, not here. Where was Mia? Ethan had no clue about who was up there with his daughter. You don't even think he knew about what you were really here for and the danger his family was currently in. Leon was already over at your side, guiding you to the lounge. Ethan and Chris could tell something was up, but none of the three men knew what it could be.

Once seated you go silent. Just listening to the conversation once it started up again. Mia comes downstairs and joins, but Chris makes it quick as you had given him a look that you needed to leave. Not just yourself, but the three of you needed to leave.

"As long as you are keeping up with everything and not overworking yourself." Chris finished as he left the threshold of the house. You had already made your way towards the Ute and hopped in the back. Leon was waiting for Chris before hopping in beside you.

You sat there with your head in your hands, you were regretting you had told her you were pregnant. She knew who you were, and now she probably was cluing onto the mission, if she didn't already know. Chris had started driving and you made sure you were far enough away before you spoke.

"Do you mind telling us what happened in there?" Chris asked, Leon was still rubbing circles on your upper back.

"That's not Mia.."

"What?!" They both said in unison. "What do you mean it's not Mia?" Chris adds.

"When I went up to meet her, she sounded completely different. I thought maybe I heard her wrong, but she said it wasn't long until she was hers."

"SHIT!" Chris hits the steering wheel. It made sense to him now, why she was coming back and then vanishing. It had come to his mind a few times. When he would monitor Mia upon visiting, even when Ethan was away. she seemed normal. Of course she would act like a loving mother towards Rose if she was seeing her as her own daughter. 

"Did she say anything else?" Leon asked.

"She knew we are agents, but I don't know if she suspects anything. We need to be extra careful." You warn.

"We'll invade tonight."

"Invade?" Leon asked. "The house?"

Chris nods as he drives faster towards the mountains. "It's not safe there anymore." He pressed the earpiece on his ear. "Umber Eyes, I need you and Tundra to head into the village and search for any sign of Mia Winters. We think Miranda has been shifting into Mia." He was silent for a few seconds before responding. "Copy, we are almost back at camp, have the others ready to go through an invasion plan."

Your eyes search Leon's face as he listens to Chris' words. You know how much he hated invading on unsuspecting families, even if the mother was confirmed to be the big bad you were currently after. He had sat back in the seat, his hand now resting on your back as he was deep in thought. Reaching your hand over you place it on his leg beside yours, he looks down to your hand and then up to your eyes. Without even having to say anything you were giving him your 'everything will be okay' look. You then watch him nod, hardly even noticeable as he swallows hard, his jaw tensing.

"Rose and Ethan won't be in the way, Leon." Chris said from the front, he knew how Leon felt about this type of thing as well. But Miranda hadn't given them much of a choice, they had to act quickly.

Part 1 | Previous | Next

🏷️: @phoenix666stuff @maehemthemisfit @greywardensaywhat @growingupnrealizing @starcrossedreaders @mae-is-crazy @sunhatllama @sailorchaos21

lookie what I found waiting in my patreon to be read😅😅

[botgal]

If you've been following my post regarding internet privacy legislation in California, or if you've been paying attention to the news, then as of late you've likely heard of CA AB 3080, The Parent’s Accountability and Child Protection Act. Which I have written about prior.

On Monday 5/6/2024, this bill will be going through a vote on the Assembly Floor. If you can this weekend, call and email your California Assembly representatives (which you can find through this link here). Even if you only leave voice mails, an inbox full of voice mails regarding the same topic can greatly increase our chances of getting heard.

It is important to help get this vote stricken down in order to protect the privacy of California's internet users, and not set a precedent for them to allow this further (because we know that they will). However, I would like to say a few things to dispel some of the panic and fear that I've been seeing spread around about this bill. To let you know we still have time no matter what happens on this vote, and to prevent anyone from becoming too too anxious for now.

This is only the Assembly vote. Which means that there are plenty more steps in the process we will have to stop it. Even if it passes here, which we will try to stop, it will still have go to through both the Senate and the Governor before it gets signed. And we will work to stop it no matter what point it gets to.

As for the content of the bill. While the original incarnation of AB 3080 was indeed a general age verification bill, the scope of it has narrowed somewhat. Instead it has narrowed down to focusing on age verification for purchasing items which are illegal under California law for minors to purchase.

The most recent version of the bill, as amended on 5/2/2024, has focused primarily on requiring age verification for online purchases of any items that minors are not allowed to purchase in California. These items explicitly include "An aerosol container of paint that is capable of defacing property", "Etching cream that is capable of defacing property", "Dangerous fireworks", "Tanning in an ultraviolet tanning device", "Dietary supplement products containing ephedrine group alkaloids", "Body branding", "Firearms or handguns", "A BB device", "Ammunition or reloaded ammunition", "Any tobacco, cigarette, cigarette papers, blunt wraps, any other preparation of tobacco, any other instrument or paraphernalia that is designed for the smoking or ingestion of tobacco, products prepared from tobacco, or any controlled substance", "Electronic cigarettes", or "A less lethal weapon".

To note, this version of the bill does still include access to "pornographic internet websites". Which are also explicitly defined under the law, and have had their scope narrowed considerably since the original iteration of the bill. The most recent version of the bill limits this definition to "an internet website on which the owner of the internet website, for commercial gain, knowingly publishes sexually explicit content that, on an annual basis, exceeds one-third of the contents published on the internet website." In which "sexually explicit content" is defined as "visual imagery of an individual or individuals engaging in an act of masturbation, sexual intercourse, oral copulation, or other overtly sexual conduct that, taken as a whole, lacks serious literary, artistic, political, or scientific value."

So, while the current version of AB 3080 is still not a good thing and we must work to keep it from being passed, please know it's not an immediate internet shut-down via age verification bill. We have time to fight this. And if we have people who are willing to try and fight this, calling and writing to their representatives, then we will always have the chance.

In conclusion. Do not fall to panic. Do your part. Fight to keep our internet free and unregulated.

[offender42085]

Post 1291

Convicted, overturned and Convicted again....

Gage Basil Ashley, born 1997, New York inmate 22B0067, incarceration intake January 2022 at age 24, scheduled for release November 2044

Murder, Attempted Robbery, Criminal Possession of a Weapon

In April 2024, after five years, a suspect has been sentenced for the 2019 murder of 36-year-old Joshua Poole.

Judge Hon. Thomas Leone sentenced 26-year-old Gage Ashley to 25 years to life for his conviction of Murder in the Second Degree.

In March 2024, Ashley was convicted and found guilty of killing Poole at 8 Delevan Street in the City of Auburn on November 15, 2019.

In November 2020, Cayuga County District Attorney Jon Budelmann said 38-year-old Christian Rivera planned a robbery in November of 2019 that resulted in the murder of Poole. According to Budelmann, Rivera provided Ashley — along with 22-year-old Lucciano Spagnola and 24-year-old Tyree Anglin — with weapons, ammunition and money to purchase gloves and masks. 

Rivera also allegedly provided them with marijuana, cocaine, synthetic drugs and alcohol before sending them to commit the robbery, while he stayed at home.

Police said Ashley was armed with a handgun during the alleged robbery and Spagnola had a shotgun and Anglin was with them as well. 

Investigators said the three bought ski masks from Walmart a few days before and tried to burn their clothes and hide their evidence from police in a crawl space. Police also found a vehicle –that they believed was the getaway car — in the Seneca River in Cato shortly after that was connected to the crime. 

On Thursday, March 14, 2024, the jury began their deliberation around 1:15 p.m. and reached a verdict on Ashley by 1:45 p.m. on Friday. They not only found Ashley guilty of murder but of Attempted Robbery in the First Degree and Criminal Possession of a Weapon in the Second Degree.

On the day of Ashley’s sentencing, the court also imposed sentences of 15 years in prison and five years of post-release supervision for each of Ashley’s convictions of Attempted Robbery in the First Degree and Criminal Possession of a Weapon in the Second Degree. 

Each sentence represents the maximum sentence allowable by law. The Court was legally required to run the sentences concurrently because Ashley committed the crimes at the same time.

4u

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: November 8, 2024

Reworked Character #4: Fio Germi

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death, alcoholism, and SA.

Real name: Fiolina Hortensia Germi

Alias: Teatime in the Battlefield

Occupation: Master Sergeant of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. and the lead medical technician of the P.F. Squad

Retirement plans: Become a sports doctor and astrophysicist, open up a bakery, and start a family

Special skills: Chiropractic and massage therapy, knowledge in military medicine, housework, acupuncture, and astronomy

Hobbies: All types of sewing (hand sewing, machine sewing, embroidery, and quilting), ballroom dancing, giving her friends massages, cooking delicious meals and enjoying it on a picnic outside, and frequenting petting zoos, nature reserves, and art and outer space museums

Likes: Peppino, being in Tarma’s arms, the beauty of nature, baking cakes and other sweet treats, and reading books on stories centred around the stars and constellations

Dislikes: Scolding hot and freezing cold baths, people cheating at card games, the time she had to wear orthodontic braces, insects and creepy crawlies, and sneezing on the battlefield

Favourite food: Homemade sandwiches and gelato

Favourite drink: Ice tea (preferably Queen Mary)

Sexuality: Heteroromantic demisexual

Gender: Female

Age: 15 (in 2022), 21 (in 2028), 23 (in 2030), 25 (in 2032), 27 (in 2034), 34 (in 2041), 36 (in 2043), 37 (in 2044), and 40 (in 2047)

Blood type: O+

Weight: 145 lbs. (66 kg)

Design: She’s a 5’ 2” (157.48 cm) Italian mesomorph with sloping shoulders, upper arms that carry some of her weight, a bit of belly fat, voluptuous breasts and hips, and prominent thighs. She has olive skin, droopy blue-grey eyes, and brownish freckles scattered across her face and neck. Fio has straight, slightly messy orangish-brown hair that falls just above the middle of her upper back, framed by blunt bangs and chin-length, layered sides. However, she typically wears it tied up in a ponytail. Her fingernails are painted an English lavender hue, and she wears thick, winged dark brown eyeliner, a soft rosy red blush on her cheeks and nose, and cherry blossom pink lip gloss. As a result of battle injuries and her own clumsiness, she bears a bullet wound near the centre of her left calf and numerous cut marks, stab scars, and scrapes on her arms and legs.

Her military gear consists of polarised, silver-plated transition lens eyeglasses, a metal dog tag necklace with her name, and a cordovan Eisenhower jacket. She wears a pink lavender T-shirt with a dogwood rose stripe running along the front and a carmine bra underneath. She wears carmine gloves and a gold-buckled leather belt to secure her ebony army cargo shorts, which fall just above her knees. She also wears ebony paratrooper boots, dogwood rose knee and elbow pads, and over-the-calf bittersweet shimmer socks. She has a khaki waist pack attached to the front of her belt, which carries her nail polish, lip gloss, eyeliner, two makeup brushes (a large one and a small one), a makeup sponge, and a powder blush palette.

She wears a leather sheath for her hatchet, a gun holster for her handgun, and a holder for her tonfa. The pockets of Fio's Eisenhower jacket carry around Peppino, her beloved greyish-brown teddy bear with a pearlescent blue bowtie, a red wooden maneki-neko figurine with its right arm raised and its left paw holding a koban coin (a gift from Eri), and a deck of cards. The pockets of her army cargo shorts carry a canister of pepper spray, a Ventolin inhaler, a bottle of azithromycin pills, and a bottle of specialised prescription supplements specifically designed to manage her cystic fibrosis.

Over her T-shirt, she dons a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries her walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. Her black ammunition bandolier is slung over her right shoulder, and the back of her Eisenhower jacket features an embroidered S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. logo. Fio carries an ebony load-bearing backpack containing camping equipment, fire bombs, stones, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, and a picnic basket filled with prepared sandwiches. She also carries her latest sewing project and its accompanying supplies, a Hexagon Arms M-3685, a cat o' nine tails whip, medical supplies, and a scientific telescope.

She always wears a pair of teardrop-shaped pink opal earrings and a gold chain necklace featuring a red coral cornicello amulet, believed to ward off bad luck and bring good fortune. She wears a khaki army cap, once worn by her father during his military service, with the Regular Army insignia emblazoned on the front. Additionally, she wears a rosy pink armband on her left arm, featuring an European bee-eater perched on an olive branch at its centre.

Character summary: She's initially reserved and timid around strangers but warms up and opens up once she becomes familiar with new people. She's a compassionate, considerate, and overly cautious listener who's really good with children and lends everyone a generous helping hand. She's sensitive and unafraid to show her true emotions, often engaging in introspective thought. She possesses a steadfast commitment to justice, having no tolerance for individuals who seek to stir up strife, and is slow to forgive those who inflict harm on others for their own selfish purposes. Despite her quiet and calm demeanour, she's surprisingly prone to stress and anxiety, particularly when confronted with obnoxious noises, unwanted physical contact or situations where she can't escape. Even though she's a seasoned warrior, she harbours an intense fear of insects and creepy crawlies, often resorting to hiding behind Tarma, Marco or Eri and insisting they handle the situation. On occasion, she displays an almost childlike naivety and exuberance, typically after completing a mission or while off duty.

She's a very friendly and gentle clean freak who'll do anything to help out her family, friends, comrades, and those in need. She prepares all her meals with love and dedication, considering others' likes and dislikes, hoping they'll enjoy what she's made. When talking to others, she often uses lively hand gestures and animated facial expressions to emphasise certain ideas. She gets easily flustered by compliments and flirtatious advances, blushing deeply and becoming nearly speechless. She's a somewhat superstitious person, believing in things like placing one's hat on a bed being a sign of bad luck for homeowners and spilling salt being a harbinger of financial troubles. She's a nature-loving girl who's incredibly clever and always thinks optimistically. She's a great strategist who excels in keep-away tactics. However, she often pushes people away due to fear and isn't the most skilled fighter, but can fight when necessary.

Whenever she's faced with the death of a child, a comrade or friend being severely injured, being touched inappropriately or being rudely insulted, her face darkens. She becomes cold-hearted and deadly serious, and her tactical prowess shines through most. She's quite curious around strangers, nervously trailing them and asking a few questions to get to know them. Despite cherishing the importance of friendship, she sometimes feels isolated by her exceptional intelligence, privileged upbringing, and cystic fibrosis. She values maintaining a healthy work-life balance and prioritising her time with loved ones, holding both in higher regard than success. She believes that living in or exploring beautiful places helps her become a better person by gaining a deeper appreciation of the world around her.

She originally harboured romantic feelings for Marco, but they dissipated after he disclosed that he isn't interested in romantic and sexual relationships. Her affections eventually shifted to Tarma, whom she found charming due to his silliness, emotional intelligence, Hokkaido dialect, the soothing sound of his voice, pleasant smile, and knack for building professional motorcycles. She finds immense comfort in Tarma's presence and often offers him solace when he's having a rough day or struggling with self-doubt. After her romantic relationship with him fully blossoms, she forms an exceptionally close physical and emotional bond with him. However, her tendency to become overly attached manifests at times, especially when feelings of fear or loneliness arise. Despite being in a romantic relationship with Tarma, she maintains a non-possessive attitude, unconcerned if he flirts or sleeps with other women and men, considering it his personal freedom. However, she does prefer openness and honesty, ensuring that he communicates with her about his actions.

She eventually enters into a polyamorous queerplatonic relationship with Marco and Tarma, which she deeply cherishes and further satisfies her craving for emotional intimacy. She's displeased when Nadia takes advantage of her kindness to avoid responsibilities. However, she appreciates Nadia's help with dessert-making, although Fio often has to bribe her by offering something equally sweet or letting her have the largest share of a batch to persuade her to lend a hand. She's frustrated by Eri's overprotectiveness, especially when it comes to Tarma, as it reminds her of her father's behaviour and makes her feel like she's being treated like a child. She finds Red Eye to be an incredibly intimidating person, despite their relatively friendly relationship, which occasionally involves sharing a cup of tea together.

When she's reached her limit, feels threatened or needs to express her authentic feelings about something that gets under her skin, she's capable of standing up for herself and making her voice heard. She rarely swears, but when someone's pushed her too far, she'll unleash a stern reprimand, peppered with profanities in Italian. She's unconcerned by Marco's and others' opinions that carrying Peppino is childish because the teddy bear provides her with personal comfort and solace, particularly when she's anxious or sad. She's not fond of drinking alcohol due to its bitter taste and intoxicating effects, which make her feel nauseous and slightly nervous. However, on rare occasions, she’ll let loose and indulge in alcohol with her friends, especially after a challenging mission. When intoxicated, she starts to act playful, flirtatious and sexually teasing towards Tarma, obnoxiously loud, agitated, and bluntly honest.

She harbours private reservations about the Regular Army's methods, particularly when it comes to neutralising perceived threats, including journalists and enemy-affiliated personnel. She acknowledges that not everyone in these groups is malicious, but rather, many are innocent individuals caught in complex circumstances. Moreover, she struggles with the nagging feeling that those closest to her have been conditioned to uncritically accept the Regular Army's moral stance, never questioning its motivations or ethics. However, she's deeply afraid to express these thoughts aloud, fearing deadly repercussions and unwilling to risk stirring up trouble or jeopardising the relationships she values. She often pushes these thoughts aside by focusing on becoming a better fighter and drawing inspiration from high-ranking individuals like Marco and Clark, whom she greatly admires.

She has a tendency to fall asleep extremely quickly at bedtime or naptime, and her loud snoring can be disruptive to others who are trying to rest or focus on important tasks in the same room. She would be heartbroken if Peppino were lost, destroyed or stolen forever, as the teddy bear has been her constant companion since birth. However, she would be overjoyed to be reunited with the original Peppino or receive a new teddy bear that's an exact replica. She believes that war serves no purpose other than to be destructive, resulting from conflicts that escalate beyond the control of free will. In her view, war profoundly alters the moral fabric of society, while accelerating the advancement of weaponry and technology used in conflict. She’s a firm believer in virtue ethics who holds that life is more powerful than death, as it continually finds innovative ways to adapt and flourish.

Backstory: Fiolina Hortensia Germi was born on October 2, 2007 in Genoa, Italy. The Germi family is renowned for their vast wealth, military service, and philanthropic endeavours. Originally merchants and nobles, they amassed their fortune in the Mediterranean region during the Age of Exploration and have since maintained their wealth, now managing various corporations and philanthropic organisations. True to their militaristic heritage, the Germis have participated in numerous conflicts, including the Napoleonic Wars of the 1800s, the Italian Unification Wars of the 19th century, and modern-day wars against terrorism worldwide. Sadly, many Germi warriors lost their lives, leading to an important family custom where the chosen heir of the Germi family must serve in the military.

Alessandro Germi, Fio's father, was a fearsome soldier in the Regular Army in his earlier years, serving alongside Fabriclus Roving. However, he was forced to leave military service after being severely injured during a shootout, which left him crippled and suffering from debilitating post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). His body bore the scars of countless battles, a testament to the wounds he had endured and the bloodshed he had witnessed on the front lines. After returning to civilian life and receiving proper support, Alessandro successfully restored his family's struggling business. He also started a family with his beloved wife, Giulietta, a talented seamstress and manager of a luxurious art museum.

Alessandro's wish was to have a healthy son as he feared that sending a daughter onto the battlefield would be a perilous ordeal. To his surprise and dismay, Giulietta gave birth to a daughter, and due to health complications, she couldn't bear any more children. Fio's mother would also experience postpartum depression after childbirth and passed down a disease that runs deep within her heritage: cystic fibrosis. Alessandro's deep-seated fears for Fio's safety often led him to become overly protective, causing tension with Giulietta, who found his helicopter parenting suffocating.

Despite her parents' mental health struggles, they went above and beyond to care for her, providing unwavering love and support. For half of her elementary school years, she was homeschooled and her parents taught her a diverse range of subjects, including mathematics. They encouraged Fio’s appreciation for friendships, the outdoors, and the finer things in life. They even fostered her love of astronomy, gifting her a scientific telescope on her 10th birthday, which she still has to this day.

Giulietta often took her on enriching outings to nature reserves and art museums, where she learned about biology and art history. Her mother also taught her the importance of domestic duties, showing her how to do her chores and clean the house. On special occasions, her mother would dress her up in pretty dresses and give her adorable animal plushies, which she still keeps.

She was bullied and exploited by the other children because of her wealthy status and overt politeness, but her father and teachers consistently intervened. As she grew, she discovered her own voice, learning to assert herself with courage and conviction. Standing up to her bullies with firm yet gentle confidence, she effectively silenced their taunts and earned respect. Like Marco, Fio excelled in all her classes, demonstrating exceptional academic prowess and a deep appreciation for effort and lifelong learning.

However, her life took a devastating turn near the end of her secondary school days. A sudden and tragic terrorist airstrike, attributed to the Ptolemaic Army, struck Genoa, Italy, claiming Giulietta among its many victims. Her father was the most affected by this loss, turning to a life of alcoholism and self-isolation. Although Alessandro still cared about Fio and tried his best to support her, his alcoholism and newfound self-isolating behaviour made it challenging for him to do so. As a result, the butler and maids who worked in the mansion frequently took care of her.

It took time for Fio and Alessandro to heal from this loss, but they remained resilient. To cope with the loss of her mother, she turned to sewing, baking, and reading books on ancient and modern medical practices. Eventually, Alessandro sought help and went to rehab and therapy to address his issues with Fio's support and encouragement. After graduation, Fio was awarded multiple awards and scholarships, which enabled her to attend university. There, she pursued an interdisciplinary course of study, exploring chiropractics, acupuncture, physics, and astronomy.

Fio would eventually express her interest in joining the military after coming across a persuasive flyer to serve in the Regular Army. This revelation horrified Alessandro, as he didn't want to send his only child off to the battlefield, risking her life. He wanted to disregard the Germi's military traditions, believing that war is repugnant and a never-ending cycle of hate and violence. Alessandro tried to deter Fio from joining, but she persisted, driven by her desire to join the fight against terrorism and protect the lives of innocent people. He reluctantly agreed and sent her off to the military at the age of 19, but attempted to minimise her risk by using his connections and friends from his own military days to secure her a desk job, hoping to keep her out of harm's way and away from the front lines.

However, everything changed when a paperwork mistake caused by militant bureaucracy resulted in Fio's transfer to the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., a special operations branch of the Regular Army's Intelligence Agency known for carrying out high-risk missions. Surprisingly, Fio was ecstatic to hear the news as she had been eager to be deployed on the battlefield and make a real difference. In contrast, her father was furious and stormed into military headquarters, threatening officers in an attempt to prevent his daughter from being shipped to the front lines.

He would often try to extract Fio from the battlefield via a private jet, but she consistently resisted. Eventually, she had enough of his overprotectiveness and bravely told him that this was what she wanted—to fight on the battlefield and provide medical aid. She assured him that she was capable of handling herself. Alessandro finally understood and let her pursue her life as a military woman. In return, she promised to keep in touch with him after each mission, providing him with reassurance and comfort.

Like Eri, she played a crucial role in the Great Morden War by providing Marco's team with useful intel on Rebel Army positions. She even went so far as to provide them with sustenance, mainly in the form of homemade sandwiches. She also dedicated herself to providing medical support for Marco's team, which led to her being recognized as the medic for the Peregrine Falcons Squad.

During the Extraterrestrial Alliance Clash in Hong Kong, she was seized by a ruthless group of fanatic land troops and bikers who intended to exploit her for their twisted desires. One of the deranged fanatic land troops subjected her to unwanted physical contact, leaving her severely traumatised and more prone to anxiety. This horrific experience intensified her resentment towards the Rebel Army and those who seek to spread chaos and harm. Fortunately, Tarma intervened just in time, eliminating the Rebel Infantrymen with the SV-001. Eri quickly freed her from the ropes that bound her arms and ankles.

Her countless battles against worldwide criminality, terrorism, and corruption enabled her to rapidly rise through the ranks, becoming the Master Sergeant of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. special forces unit. However, her time in the military has taught her a harsh reality: even the good guys can't always protect the innocent or save their friends and comrades. She has witnessed many deaths and severe injuries that left people crippled and traumatised in each battle. Nevertheless, with the emotional support of friends like Eri and Tarma, she has persevered and continues fighting to this day.