#firearms for sell

[jeefyjett]

Stuff are available Dm or click the link in my bio

Tap in for great deals serious clients only

https://armorygunshops.com/

[mantradown]

[rainydaysie]

hadn’t that guy played an OUNCE of COD or some other fps?? all i’m saying is if it were ME

[mkarchin713]

Thanks to Danny’s connections in the Zone as well as to Clockwork, Jazz quickly becomes known as a purveyor of not only modern firearms but also antique firearms.

Jazz swiftly becomes very popular in the historically accurate LARPing communities. She even has period accurate ammo.

Not only that but thanks to her Fenton genes she is a pro at customization, and the creation of specialized non-lethal ammo. Her Fenton Foamer bullets are particularly popular.

Jazz still puts her psychoanalyzing to good use, and refuses to sell to those who don’t pass her vibe check or her gun safety course.

Short DPXDC Prompts #1032

Jazz has gotten far better in aim and weaponry over the years. She never expected to get into gun collecting but here she is, opening a gun store in the heart of Gotham. If you ask politely, she might just let you peruse her special collection in the back. It’s chalk full of Fenton weaponry and her own custom builds. It’s stuff that an ATF auditor would take one look at and shut down her entire store without a second thought. Lucky for Jazz, the local rogues gallery has long since scared the ATF from stepping foot in Gotham.

[trinityauctiongallery]

One man's firearm collection

Part TWO – Online auction of one man’s firearm collection; get them before they are gone. Auction method – where you set the price you want to pay. Final auction sale of estate firearms collection Here at Asset Marketing Pros, we are listing the final auction for this one man’s firearm collection. It has been our pleasure to assist this family in liquidating this fabulous collection from…

[patricia-taxxon]

reverse house flipping, purchase a home for a million dollars, make it worse, shoot firearms at night from the patio, sell it again after the neighborhood is cheap and undesirable

[messenger-of-babel]

Coloured Red

Summary: He likes you in his colour, just not that like that. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.1K

Notes: blood and injury. Hope everyone's having a good week so far! Not my favouriteeeeee Jason piece I have written but please enjoy anyways. xx

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It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

Never like this.

He had been working out of the manor for a few days, something he was already reluctant to do. However, you had sent him off to "work" with a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek, wishing him well for whatever convention Librarians had. Instead of your boyfriend being the gruff librarian sorting returns every night, he was in fact the red masked vigilante cooped up in the cave, pacing back and forth in front of the Bat computer while Tim tried to trace their latest suspect.

Dick had called him back for some extra firepower in the latest case, and if he hadn't owed him one Jason would be back with you in a heartbeat. "Get anything?" he grunts to Tim, who's fingers are typing strings of code into the keyboard.

"Not yet," he hums, the younger man's face twitching with annoyance as the firewall warning flashes across the screen again.

"Give it time, Jay. we don't want to let them know we're onto them." comes Dick, who’s leaning against a railing and still fully suited up from his earlier patrol. "I've checked all through The Cauldron and Southside, no trace of them there. Penguin must have closed up shop around Cobblepot Steel when he started working with his new friend. Going through great lengths to gatekeep his new buddy from us." he hums.

"Well I want to get this meet and greet over with," Jason grumbles, crossing his arms while he scuffs his boots impatiently.

"Bee in your bonnet, Red?" Dick calls and Jason scoffs.

"You put it there. You wanted me to help take 'em down while the Bat is out of town with Superscout, but you don't even know where they are. I've spent a full night just waiting for boy genius here to get a lock."

Dick puts his hands up in mock surrender. "We'll be done soon, promise. Then you can go home to your sweetheart. Hey, you can even say you came back early just to see them. I'm helping you get brownie points." he grins, nimbly dodging the hand Jason had swung out to slap the back of his head. "Where are they anyways? Their place?"

"Safehouse." Jason grunts back. "Staying at mine while I'm helping you lot. Old Gotham, near the GCPD. Besides, I told them to mark down I'd be back tonight on the calendar anyways."

Dick whistles. "Didn't think you had a place that close to the cops."

Jason just shrugs. "They're not after me, and if they were it would be somewhere they wouldn't look. Plus it's a nice distance from you all." he grumbles.

Dick pushes off the wall coming to lean over a monitor near Tim. "Well if our mystery person is teaming up with Penguin, and he isn't interested in the drug business, what is he here for?" he hums, eyes focused on the map of Gotham that Tim has pulled up. He taps the screen after a second, zooming in. "Here. Dixon Docks. We haven't checked here yet. Penguin used to smuggle through here, but it also became a bit of a meet up spot. He might have gone back to old ground."

"Yeah, but Penguin shifted his focus into drug running. Bruce put him under pretty heavy surveillance, managed to shut down a lot of his operations for a while. You really think he'd be that stupid to start trying to smuggle firearms again?" Tim piped up.

"Maybe. But Maybe its not firearms. This spot used to be a mob meeting spot. He never visited the operation personally unless-"

"Unless he wanted to order a hit." Jason cut off his older counterpart, voice becoming modulated as he fixed his mask to his face. "Seems there's a chance his new play pal is a hitman."

"For who though?" Tim asks.

"Maybe the hit isn't one Penguin is ordering. maybe the Penguin's selling info." Dick calls, testing his in earpiece before giving Jason a nod. "Me and Hood are going in to take a look. Track our location and keep the cameras on."

Tim nods while Jason and Dick head for the bikes, mounting each of their respective vehicles.

"Finally something to do." Jason groans, stretching his arms above his head before catching the cocky grin from Dick speeding past him. "Show-off." he murmurs, his own engine roaring to life as he follows suit.

They had cleared the dock pretty easily, Dick's hunch being correct. Between the two of them the middlemen and thugs were strewn across the floor of the warehouse, and Tim had already called the GCPD to come pick them up for the arrest. "No sign of our flightless friend." Jason grumbled, stepping over an unconscious thug.

"Nor our new mystery visitor." Dick concludes, tucking his escrima under his arm as he goes through the stack of papers at the makeshift desk tucked behind some shipping containers. Jason has known the eldest robin enough to know when he was worried, and the tight way he now held his body was a clear sign. "You find something?" he asks, boots thudding as the come to stand beside him.

"You think Oz was beginning to catch on?" Dick asks quietly, turning the page to show Jason the blurry CCTV photo of Bruce, a crude cowl and ears drawn over the image in sharpie.

"Shit," Jason breathed, taking some of the papers from Dick and beginning to flick through it. "This is all of us." He confirms, worry beginning to gnaw at his bones. There were photos of Tim leaving the city library and entering the Wayne Tower. Photos of Dick back in Bludhaven in a police uniform, photos of him at galas. Photos of Damian at school and meeting with Alfred. The more he flipped through them the more his heart dropped. There was a photo for nearly every 'apprentice' of Batman, surrounded by question marks.

"Whoever is joining the dots isn't fully convinced of it themselves." he murmurs, blood freezing as he sees a photo of himself there. A photo with you on his arm next to him. Dick comes to peer over at it, cursing under his breath.

"Hood, don't panic-" he tries to soothe, but Jason is already pushing past him to tear at more of the documents on the desk. He rifles through the papers, the sound of approaching sirens and Nightwing's urging to leave the scene deafened by the ringing in his ears. In his tightly clenched hands there was a leger, with a list of addresses. In the middle, was his address. The address he had given you, highlighted in yellow.

"We need to go." Dick urges, hurrying him to mount his bike. Jason jaw clenches, and he shoves the piece of paper into his brothers’ hands.

"Yeah. We do." he grits out, but he hopes Dick can't hear the sheer fear held behind his teeth. His bike speeds off, roaring through the side street they came on as he reroutes for Old Gotham. Dick looks down, eyes wandering over the red written date next to the highlighted address, tonight date. "Jesus," he breathes out, quickly following behind his brother before he does something reckless.

Jason doesn't think that he'd ever driven that fast since he'd been on the run from Bruce, throwing the bike into park so violently outside his apartment that the tires burnt as they squealed. Dick wasn't too far behind him, calling out for him to wait in between talking to Tim on the other end of his earpiece. His heart is thudding in his ears, hands feeling cold as he scales the stairs to the fourth floor, knocking on the door rapidly. He didn't care he was in his full suit. He could make some bullshit excuse if you were fine, claiming some noise disturbance or the wrong door.

But if he wasn't?

Then someone was going to fear the fact he was already suited up.

"I told you to wait, Hood-" Dick snaps at him, slightly out of breath from having to run behind him. Jason doesn't listen, shoulder slamming into the door when you don't come to answer.

"Don't you have the key?" Nightwing hisses to him.

"Left it in my civvies." he grunts, stumbling slightly as the door gives way. "I wasn't really expecting to…" he trails off, bile rising in his throat and blood draining from his face. Dick pushes in next to him, still scolding. "You can't just go in like this-" he cuts himself off, catching sight of what Jason was burning into his brain. "Oh no, Jay..." he whispers, but Jason is already moving to your side.

His hands come to your head, softly cradling it in his large palms. Two fingers come to press against your neck, his breathing evening out as he finds a weak pulse. "They're still kicking." He grunts out, other hand coming to cradle the back of your head. He closes his eyes trying to scrub the image of you lying there in the living room, sprawled on the carpet surrounded by the shards of the broken window and white rug drinking your blood.

Your eyes flicker weakly and you make a faint cry when he presses down on the wound by your ribs, a sound that tears him up inside. "Shhh," he tries to say softly, but the modulator makes it robotic, stripping the emotion from it. "I gotta put pressure on it. Did you see who did it?" he asks. He can faintly hear Dick calling for Robin on the end of the commlink, calling for paramedics to come to his address.

He hates how warm his hands feel, gloves heating up as if they were stealing the life force from out of you. Blood is flecked across your lips from the spray, faintly mumbling the words, "didn’t see them."

He nods along. "That’s okay, that’s okay." he murmurs, but he wasn't sure who he was telling that to.

"Red Hood…" you groan out, hand coming the grip his wrist as he pushes firmer on the bullet wound. Your fingers are bloody, smearing the crimson across his suit. "You gotta…you gotta find my boyfriend," you cough weakly. "They were here for him. He’s just…he's just a librarian…" your eyes tear up, throat swelling with the weight of your words. "He was just coming back tonight…oh god…you have to find him… what if they-" you sob, causing your face to scrunch up at the pain that ripples through your body. "I wanna…I wanna see him."

Jason's heart is tearing into pieces as Dick kneels to your other side, hands coming to your non-wounded side as he preps the area, Tim faintly heard giving instructions on how to stabilise you until the paramedics arrive. Jason shakes his head, fighting back tears. Despite the side glance he gets from Nightwing, he pulls one hand up to his face, feeling for the latch under his jaw to release his mask.

When he pulls it away his eyes are red, tears already built in the corners. His lips have a tremble that hasn't been felt since he was in the single digits on the streets, and his hairline is beaded with sweat from worry. He offers you a weak smile, unable to stop the shooting pain that wracks his mind watching the hazy confusion on your face.

"Jay?" you whisper, the word more mouth than sound. He nods reluctantly.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Oh god, it wasn’t supposed to go like this.

He dreamt of the day that he could tell you his identity, of his real profession. He imagined all the best scenarios of you accepting him, of letting him spin you around the kitchen when he picked you up by the waist like he did so often. Of telling you while you both read together on the couch, your legs pulled across his lap. He never imagined the bad scenarios. He pushed those to the back of his mind. But as you reached up with bloodstained fingers, dragging the sticky red across his cheek in that oh so familiar motion, he knew right then that this was the worst situation imaginable.

He lets his tears wash the red from your fingers, trying to blink them out of his eyes so he could focus on saving you.

"Hold on, sweetheart." he murmured weakly, desperately praying for the wailing of the siren to reach his ears.

He had always said how much he loved red, loved you in the colour. Loved you in his colour.

Now he was thinking he never wanted to see you bathed in this much red ever again.

[fawnsuga]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ 𓆸 ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌the ‌ orgins ‌ of ‌ dylan ‌ klebolds ‌ tec9‌ ‌ ! ‌ ‌ ‌

Origins of the TEC-9

There are several unresolved questions regarding the origins of the TEC-DC9M. At first glance, it appears to be a straightforward case: Mark Manes sold the weapon to Dylan Klebold for $500. However, discrepancies in Manes's account of the gun's purchase raise significant concerns, particularly regarding the authenticity of the bank receipt he provided to law enforcement.

Chronology of Events

The official narrative is as follows: Robyn Anderson facilitated a straw purchase for two shotguns and one rifle at the Tanner Gun Show. Mark Manes sold the TEC-DC9M to Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold for 500 in cash, giving the weapon to Dylan on January 23, 1999, accompanied by a down payment. Duran later accepted the final payment behind Blackjack Pizza, witnessed by Nate Dykeman. Manes claims to have purchased the TEC−DC9 at the Tanner Gun Show on August 2, 1998, providing a receipt for 500 in cash, giving the weapon to Dylan on January 23, 1999, accompanied by a down payment. Duran later accepted the final payment behind Blackjack Pizza, witnessed by Nate Dykeman. Manes claims to have purchased the TEC−DC9 at the Tanner Gun Show on August 2, 1998, providing a receipt for 491 from Eagle Enterprises as proof of purchase. (11k, p.8150) Brian Distel asserts that he witnessed Manes present the TEC-9 to Dylan at Manes's residence and claims to have accompanied him to purchase it at the Tanner Gun Show in January 1999. (11k, p.8182) Greg Macilliott states he observed Manes sell the TEC to Dylan in March 1999 at Manes’s house. (11k, p.8185)

Inconsistencies in Testimony

Several inconsistencies arise regarding the timeline of Manes's alleged acquisition of the TEC at the Tanner Gun Show. Manes and the receipt indicate a purchase date of August 2, 1998, while Distel claims to have been with Manes in January 1999. Although the date on the receipt may seem more reliable, another issue complicates the narrative. The owner of Eagle Enterprises stated that the transaction in question never occurred; he had not held a table at the Tanner Gun Show for years and possessed no records of selling a TEC-9. This suggests a potential fabrication of the paper trail. Further investigation reveals that Manes's receipt was actually for a Glock 17 model 9 mm handgun, serial #BLM99505 (11k, p.8135).

Returning to the testimonies of Distel and Macilliott, Distel described the buyer of the TEC-DC9M as a white male, approximately 6 feet tall, with long, shoulder-length curly hair, wearing a Blackjack Pizza shirt and exhibiting facial acne, around 20 years old. Distel positively identified this individual from a photo lineup, although the name has been redacted in the reports. Macilliott described the buyer as having curly hair, a prominent nose, and wearing a Blackjack Pizza shirt. He also identified this person from a photo lineup, with the name redacted from the reports. This description aligns with Robert Perry, who indeed worked at Blackjack, making it plausible for him to wear a Blackjack Pizza shirt.

The Provenance of the TEC-DC9M

The TEC-9 originated from the wholesale distributor Zander Sporting Goods, located in Baldwin, Illinois. It was sold to a former Federal Heights gun store named “Just Guns,” owned by Royce Spain, who closed the store in 1998 and subsequently surrendered his firearms dealer license. Following the surrender of his dealer license, all firearms had to be registered in his name. Unable to sell his inventory, he enlisted a man named Larry Russell to sell them on consignment through his business, Guns & Pawn. (FBI, p.1759 per Randy Brown’s numbering). Spain stated that Russell sold the TEC-9 on his behalf at a gun show. However, no receipt has been provided for Manes’s alleged purchase of the TEC-9 at the Tanner Gun Show. If Russell sold the TEC-9 to Manes at the gun show, the receipt would have originated from Guns & Pawn, not Eagle Enterprises. This raises questions about why Manes would misrepresent a receipt for a Glock 9 mm handgun from Eagle Enterprises as proof of purchase for the TEC-9. Remarkably, this issue was not raised during his case and appears to have been overlooked.

Sale of the Stevens Double-Barrel Shotgun

Officially, the double-barrel shotgun was purchased from Jim Washington and Ron Hartman at the Tanner Gun Show on November 22, 1998, with Hartman conducting the transaction. He described only one male accompanying Robyn Anderson, estimating his height at approximately 5’ 11”. (11k, p.8245, p.8249) This aligns with Robyn's statement that Eric purchased the double-barrel shotgun while Dylan acquired a pump shotgun from another dealer. However, Robyn indicated that the purchase occurred on December 13, 1998. (11k, p.8216) Jim Washington served as a senior investigative and security specialist for the Defense Security Service, while Ron Hartman was a 20-year veteran of the U.S. Army and Navy.

Discrepancies

At 2:50 p.m. on the day of the shooting, Chris Morris informed the FBI that Dylan’s father owned numerous firearms, suggesting that Dylan could have sourced his shotgun from his father. (11k, p.9822, p.10841) The first police officer to enter the Harris home on the day of the shooting, Wheeldon from Sheridan PD, reported discovering a shotgun and ammunition in Eric’s bedroom, confirming that it was not a BB gun. “An unknown gauge shotgun with a sling was hanging in clear view on the side of a dresser table inside the bedroom.” (11k, p.10222) Eric Ault reported that Eric claimed he had access to his parents’ firearms. (11k, p.10646) Initially, it was stated that the shotguns had their serial numbers scratched off; however, evidence contradicts this claim.

note: I'm actually really sorry that this post is common knowledge. I've been out all day and haven't had the chance to post, so I'm trying to do it before falling asleep.

[nightlyrequiem]

Work Wife

You've noticed a growing distance between you and Valeria. And when she forgets her lunch you bring it to her, finding out why. Valeria has a work wife.

AO3 W.C- 2,629

A/N- Minor angst as a little treat. This may be 2k words but treat it more like a drabble :3 NOT PROOF READ!!

Tags/Warnings- Light Angst, No Happy Ending, Emotional Cheating, Drama, Emotional Hurt No Comfort

Valeria forgot her lunch again. She's been doing it more and more often. You're starting to wonder if she's suddenly grown forgetful, or if she doesn't like your cooking anymore. You stare at the brown paper bag silently. Your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. It's not just the lunch. Valeria herself is just... different. there's been a shift in your dynamic and you don't know why. She just slinks around you, doesn't really make eye contact, like she feels guilty about something. Even though she still kisses your cheek when she comes home and lets you cuddle up with her on the couch there's still this emotional distance between you. You're sensitive to changes.

Valeria's occupation isn't something unknown to you. Though she does her best to keep you and it separate, some things still manage to slip through the cracks and find their way back to you. She's affiliated with the cartel, she sells drugs, she's probably killed at least one person, and you know the location of her base of operations. You don't like what she does. It's dangerous and ever since she returned home cut up and covered in blood - both her own and someone else's - you can't help but fret that someday, she won't come home at all. This of course has provoked a few arguments between you. By the end you're incoherent and crying, and Valeria has her warm palms cupping your face. She says she works hard and puts herself in danger so she can take care of you. Think of all the luxuries I give you, Mi Amor, she says. I just want you to want for nothing. But you'd give up the nice house and cars and jewelry if it ensured your wife's safety.

Perhaps it's her safety that's altering her behavior. You worry at the inside of your cheek. Maybe she's in danger. Not being able to handle not knowing, you grab the paper bag from the counter and walk towards the door, slipping on your shoes. You'll pay her a visit and ask around. If Valeria won't tell you, then someone else will. You don't like being a sitting duck, not knowing if Valeria's going to be taken from you at any moment. As what you'll do to help... you'll just have to think of it when you get there.

You set the bag on the passenger seat of your car and start it, backing down the long driveway. Nerves chew themselves up inside your stomach. You've never been to her warehouse before. Never met her workers. You know Valeria doesn't want you mixing with them, but she'll have to just suck it up. It takes you a while to find the building. You didn't know the exact location of her warehouse, you concede. Just the general area. You finally come up to a looming gray building. Disrupting the harmonious browns and beige of the surrounded desert. Two armed men pacing around the front stiffen and stare at you.

You want to turn around and go home, but you've come too far to give up now. You get out of the car slowly and wait for them to speak. Still and silent as statues, they just stare at you.

"Um... Hi!" You call out, waving. "Uh, Valeria forgot her lunch, I'm her.. her friend." You stammer. They look at each other and the bigger one whispers into the other's ear. He slowly walks up to you and you catch sight of a gun tucked into his pants. You try not to feel nervous about it. Valeria owns firearms. She taught you how to shoot before.

"What's your name?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. You give him your name and his face stays blank, giving nothing away. You shift and open the passenger seat, startling when the man swiftly draws his gun on you. "Stop!" He barks. You flinch back and raise your hands.

"I'm just grabbing her lunch!" You reply, heart pounding. The man frowns and stalks forward, pushing you aside to peer into your car. 

You're too frightened to tell him off for his bad manners. Keeping an eye on you, he reaches in and plucks the little paper bag off the seat and looks in it. Probably not feeling all that threatened by the container of noodles and chicken. He grunts and looks at you.

"I'll let her know you stopped by." He says, turning away. Disappointment and confusion tugs at you.

"I came to see her. I'm her wife, actually." You tell him nervously. Holding up your left hand to show him your wedding band. He looks at it for a long time then gives you a weird look. It's not the judgmental kind, you're not sure what it means.

"... She's pretty busy right now. I think you should leave." He says, gruff but less unfriendly. He sounds almost... nervous.

You frown at him. "She's never too busy for me. Let me see her." You insist.

He frowns at you then looks back at the other man. His shoulders drop and he waves you forward.

"Fine. I'll take you to her. But I think it's in your best interest to leave." He mutters ominously. His words follow you into the building. Making you imagine all kinds of horrible things that could be happening. He stops outside of a room and knocks loudly twice. A muffled voice tells him to come in.

With a heavy, pounding heart you push open the door. You look inside and... stop. The room is a simple office. A wooden desk with a stack of papers near the back and a shelf of binders off to the side. Sunlight pours in through the window, backlighting Valeria... and the woman hunched over beside her. Valeria shifts away from her, getting that strange look on her face and alarms start blaring in your head.

"What are you doing here?" Valeria asks, her voice sharp. You frown at her tone, holding up her bagged lunch.

"You forgot this." You say, looking at the ither woman. She's pretty. Not at all rugged like the other workers. She blinks back at you. "Who's this?" You ask, narrowing your eyes.

Valeria clears her throat. "Her name's Layla," she says.

Layla smiles at you, plump lips pulling back to reveal straight white teeth. She extends a hand forward.

"Nice to meet you, you must be Valeria's wife. I'm her work wife, we're basically the same thing!" She laughs. Though you're not sure how anything she's said was funny.

"Work wife?" You repeat, lips thinning with disapproval. Anger flares in your chest. you are absolutely NOT the same thing. You glance down at the trash, seeing a different brown paper bag with scraps of food. 

"Layla, why don't you go check up on the cooks?" Valeria mutters, sending Layla away. Layla nods and smiles at Valeria, nodding at you before slipping out the door.

You don't look up from the trash, tightening your grip on the bag.

"Someone else has taken up the task of making your lunch, hm?" You speak after a few tense seconds. "Layla, I assume?"

"... It would be rude to deny food, Cariño." She says, brows furrowed. You stiffen.

"You didn't seem to think that way when you were denying my food." You reply indignantly. "Is my cooking not good enough anymore or what? And what the hell does she mean by 'work wife'?" You start raising your voice. 

Valeria stands.

"Lower your voice." She demands. "Look, it's not a big deal." She continues more softly. She rounds the desk and reaches out for you, pulling you close. "I'm married to you. She just likes to call herself my work wife because she brings me food and helps me out sometimes. It's..." She trails off, searching for the right words. "It's just platonic." Valeria's words do nothing to soothe you.

"You don't need a work wife, you have a wife wife." You reply tartly.

"You're getting jealous and upsetting yourself over nothing." Valeria sighs exasperatedly. "It's not a big deal, really."

"That's not for you to decide!" You snap, pulling away. "You've been acting different; you've been leaving your lunch at home. I was worried about you, Valeria!" You exclaim, suddenly feeling foolish.

Valeria shakes her head and pinches the bridge of her nose. She leans back against the desk and the old wood creaks under her weight.

"I don't need you to worry about me. How many times do we have to go over this? I'm a grown woman. I was in the Special Forces for Christ's sake!" She snaps at you. "I'm more than capable of taking care of myself."

You're mad that she's getting mad. She's not the one allowed to be mad here. "That's not the point," You say lowly. "I thought you were acting funny because you were in danger but it's because you've got some broad at work fawning over you, and you're letting her!"

"She's not fawning." Valeria snaps, glaring at you. "Why do you have to be so jealous and controlling? She's one of my workers."

"Not fawning?" You look at her blankly. "Kayla was practically unbuckling your belt and eating you out! I could see it in her eyes. She wants you. And I know you're stupid enough to not see it." You say angrily.

"Layla."

You frown. "What?"

"Her name is Layla, not Kayla." Valeria says flatly. You stare at her blankly. In disbelief that she actually corrected you about her name. You want to scream at her. Hit her. Instead, you throw her lunch into the trash on top of the other, eaten lunch.

"I don't even know what to say to you right now," You say, shaking your head. You turn and storm out of her office, ignoring her words calling you back. You slam the door behind you and try to find your way back to the front entrance.

Back home, you pace restlessly. Brows pulled low and fists clenched. Your heart still hasn't settled it's angry rhythm, in fact it jumps wildly when you think about Valeria and Layla. Her work wife. What bullshit. You eventually retreat back to the bedroom and sit on the bed. Unable to do anything but stare at the wall. Your anger gives way to hurt and insecurity. Your fire slowly burning out. Weren't you enough? She even corrected you about her name. You start to wonder if there's more happening behind the scenes. If Layla is doing more than just bringing her lunch and helping her out.

You slept in the spare room that night.

The next day, you decide to go back. You bring another paper bag, filled with food you know will go uneaten. It's not Valeria's lunch. Since she seems to think she's too good for your cooking now. You scowl. The guards out front are different men but they aren't too hard to convince. You walk right on in. You slip around workers, ignoring their imploring looks. The warehouse is big and you get lost finding Valeria's office again. You're forced to ask for directions, and when you finally get there, your nerves are almost frayed enough to send you running home. But you need to see them together again. At least confirm to yourself that it's something weird and you're not overreacting.

You lean your ear against the door, trying to hear through the blood pounding in your ears. You hear muffled voices. Valeria's low timbre rumbling in the air with high pitched responses from Layla. You don't have to see her to know.

You struggle to pick up on what they're saying. 

"What are you doing?"

You jump and spin around guiltily. "What? Oh, I'm Valeria's... I have her lunch." You say to the man who caught you eavesdropping. He looks skeptical, large arms crossed over his chest. "Actually, could you bring this in to her for me?" You ask, handing him the bag. He frowns at you but knocks on the door and lets himself in. You peer around his back, zeroing in on Valeria and Layla sitting on a sofa next to each other. Valeria's holding a glass of whiskey and Layla has her feet curled up under her.

You look in just in time to see her shift away from Valeria. The man brings in the bag and Valeria stiffens, looking wholly uncomfortable.

"Where-? She starts asking. You step inside and her words falter. She nods at the man. "Go." The man leaves, glancing at you as he passes. You stare daggers at Layla. "What are you doing here?" Valeria asks.

"What is she doing here?" You growl back. Clenching your fists and digging your nails into your palm.

"Working." Layla sniffs. Her lips twitch, like you're amusing her. You resist the urge to slap that smug little look off of her face.

"Working." You repeat, clicking your tongue and swinging your gaze back to Valeria. There's not even a single piece of paper on the table. Just a bottle of whiskey and an empty glass. Valeria turns to Layla.

"I think you should go. I need to have a chat with my wife." Valeria grits out. Layla nods, not even looking at you anymore.

"It's okay," She says, putting a hand on Valeria's arm. The action almost makes you start frothing like a rabid dog. If she doesn't get her hands off your wife, you might throw yourself at her. She stands and brushes past you. "I'll see you later, Valeria." You watch her leave, making sure she's gone.

A sigh brings your attention back to Valeria.

"What is your problem? You know I don't want you here." 

Her words sting. Even though you know (think) she doesn't mean them cruelly. "Why not?" You challenge. "Because you're worried I'll catch you cheating?"

"I'm not cheating. Layla is just my friend." Valeria says sharply. Your heart pangs at how significantly less softly she's looking at you.

"Thought she was your work wife." You snap, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at her.

"It's the same thing - it's all platonic." Valeria shakes her head, unimpressed. She pats the spot next to her but you don't move. Her expression darkens.

You stare at each other for a few tense seconds.

"Am I not allowed friends now?" She asks irately.

"That's not the problem!" You say angrily, raising your hands aggressively. "How much time are you spending with this woman?" You demand.

Valeria mulls over her words. "We work together, it's not-"

"How. Much. Time." You growl, taking a step towards her. She narrows her eyes.

"I don't know!" She snaps at you. "Most of the day? She helps me with paperwork. Do you know how long it would take if I were doing all of it on my own? You have her to thank that I'm able to come home to you at all!" Valeria shakes her head again and downs the rest of her drink.

Your eyes begin to prickle unexpectedly. You wish you weren't so sensitive.

"Are you cheating on me with her?" You ask. Instead of reassuring you like you want her too, Valeria only groans and rubs her face.

"No. I'm not cheating." She says dryly, like she's annoyed with you. "I love you, but you're so damn sensitive and emotional sometimes. It's not as big of a deal as you're making it seem." She sighs.

Valeria can't be bothered to comfort you, and that tells you all you need to know. You sniff, wipe your eyes, and compose yourself.

"Be friends with whoever you want." You say quietly, turning and walking out the door. You can get the hint. Why stay somewhere you're not wanted?

[sakur4ii]

Code Name: Rabbit

Prologue (?

prologue(this) | part 1

Living in Wayne Manor is both the best and worst thing that has ever happened to you. On one hand, you no longer had to worry about money, you could eat more than one meal a day, and it was a safe place. But on the other hand, it was a sad, empty place, without love—at least not for you.

Jason Todd's death severely affected your father, Bruce Wayne’s, mental stability. If he didn’t pay much attention to you before, now you barely saw him at all.

After your mother’s death, you ended up at the manor. It was difficult—your father, Bruce, didn’t seem happy about your presence. He was fighting an internal battle you could never understand. Dick was also going through a rough time. You didn’t know what his problem was, but he seemed to be fighting his own internal war, though completely different from Bruce’s.

So, you were mourning. Your father didn’t want you, and neither did your older brother. Only Alfred, the butler, seemed to acknowledge your existence.

Then you met Jason. He had been at the manor longer than you and was your age. He was excited to have someone his age around, and you were happy to finally have someone who cared about you.

You and Jason pretended to be twins—a running joke you kept up at Gotham Academy. People actually believed it. You spent so much time together that it wasn’t hard to figure out that he was Robin, Bruce was Batman, and Dick was Nightwing. What did surprise you was finding out that Barbara Gordon was Batgirl.

Jason’s death hit you hard. You didn’t leave your room for days.

You thought that after such a catastrophic event, you and Bruce could support each other. He had lost a son, and you had lost a brother—Jason Todd was gone for both of you. But instead, the opposite happened. Bruce didn’t just blame himself—deep down, he blamed you too. He thought you knew what Jason was planning. He believed you could have done or said something to stop him. But in truth, Jason never told you about his intentions.

So, while Jason was supposed to be dead, you found yourself completely alone—even as more people joined the family, filling the void Bruce needed to fill.

Aside from the arrival of Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, and Cassandra Cain, you also suffered an attack at the academy. Some lunatic with an axe left a deep wound on your face, running from your lips to your right eyebrow. And yet, your family still didn’t seem to care about you.

By the time you turned 18, the wound had turned into a scar (one that would take a decade or more to fully heal).

You were tired of being ignored by your family, so you and a girl named Lyara—whom you befriended after the attack (and whom you were a little in love with)—decided to buy a building together. You turned the first floor into a nightclub/bar, the second floor into a high-end club where the dancers were well-paid, didn’t have to sleep with anyone, and could wear animal masks to protect their identities. They set their own rules. The third floor was a cozy space with pastel colors, where the dancers could change, relax, or sleep. And finally, there was your office (technically only yours since Lyara preferred having fun as a dancer and scamming rich men instead of handling paperwork—she only managed salaries and kept an eye on things).

The plan was to turn the place into a safe haven for desperate women.

Even though you knew how to handle a variety of firearms (your mother noticed your natural talent for marksmanship and encouraged it by taking you to a shooting range, and you kept going even after her death), and you had training in boxing and some martial arts (Alfred signed you up for classes to help you cope with Jason’s death), it wasn’t enough to protect your workers or the entire building.

So, with Lyara’s approval, you put your hacking skills to use—gathering and selling information to the highest bidder, whether they were rich, poor, criminals, or vigilantes… as long as their requests didn’t go against your morals.

In just one year, your building was mostly protected by criminals, and you had become a highly respected source of information. You remained anonymous, wearing a chilling black rabbit mask with glowing red eyes whenever you showed your face.

"If you need information—any kind—Rabbit will have it. You just have to meet her requirements."

You never found out about Jason Todd’s resurrection.

You never knew about your half-brother, Damian.

You never heard about Duke Thomas joining the family.

At least, not until you turned 21…

---

Extra details!!

• The building is under both your name and Lyara’s, but you both used your mothers’ last names to make it harder to track you.

• Lyara has dyed bubblegum pink hair and is about three centimeters shorter than you.

• Because of your scar, you always wore a mask and sunglasses, but Lyara eventually convinced you to stop.

• There are lots of photos of you and Jason around the manor, taken by Alfred.

• There are going to be a lot of original characters, because I don't dare to use some Batman villains and mischaracterize them.

[post-leffert]

For An Anarchist Radio Relay League

A free zine about amateur radio for anarchists.

For an Anarchist Radio Relay League (0.24.1.1)

For an Anarchist Radio Relay League (0.24.1.1) -booklet

However, in a time when the United States government is fighting tooth and nail for the preservation of its own legitimacy while simultaneously eviscerating community services by way of privatization (Health Care, Postal Service, Public Land, Public schools, you name it), it is as important for the anti-authoritarian Working Class to learn about the science and art of radio communication as it is to learn how to grow food and shoot straight. (read "Factories, Fields, and the Firearms to Defend Them" by Hybachi LeMar )

In fact, in October of 2020, Ajit Pai's* FCC** ordered amateur access to the 3.5GHz band to be "sunset" (http://www.arrl.org/news/fcc-orders-amateur-access-to-3-5-ghz-band-to-sunset ) so that the frequency space can be sold to private companies to expand the new 5G mobile network. While this isn't exactly disastrous for anyone other than a specific sub-set of Hams***, it is par for the course for this early half of the 21st Century that the government would sell off public property to the highest bidder so that private companies can sell it back to "Consumers" and lock poor people out of access to something as ubiquitous as air or water. Sound familiar? (https://iaffaiorg.wordpress.com/2020/10/11/skills-for-revolutionary-survival-5-communications-equipment-for-rebels/)

[liver-f4ilure]

American Gun Laws & School Shootings (an essay)

WARNING! This essay is very old and is NOT at all my best work. Thank you and enjoy!

Gun laws in America have been one of the most controversial ideas in American history. The right to bear arms is engraved in the American Constitution as the second amendment in which the writer, James Madison back in 1791 concludes “A well-regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to bear arms shall not be infringed.” The original meaning has been speculated since some believe it was intended to be used for unprofessional citizens to defend against the British. However, the main controversy is if it meant individual rights to bear arms or only militia. In 2008 the DC v. Heller case concluded that in the state of Washington the amendment protected individual gun rights however the state can take away those rights if deemed dangerous by court. Americas history of school gun violence dates far back but the first major shooting to make headlines was back in April of 1999, when on April 20th of that year in Littleton Colorado teens Eric Harris (18) and Dylan Klebold (17) shot and killed 13 people at Columbine High School before killing themselves by gunshot in the school’s library. The pair had planned at least a year in advance making bombs and recording the days leading up to the shooting which is now coined the name ‘The Basement Tapes’. The guns were obtained from an illegal gun show where the two got their friend Robyn Anderson who was legally allowed to own. The shooting has sparked hundreds of shootings

since not all being schools. The aftermath also triggered the Youth Crime Gun Act of 1999 which prevents people to hold gun shows without informing the secretary of state at least 30 days in advance of location, time and duration as well as submitting all the vendors names and verifying their identities. The law also prohibits those dealers from dealing to those without license and keeping the firearms they sell from reaching the hands of minors or those unlicensed and lastly the law illegalizes the making of explosives like pipe bombs and Molotov cocktails.

The shooting was the first major school shooting the country had seen at the time.

  While it may be mental health in some cases, American gun laws should be stricter and more limited due to the fact of the childhood gun mortality rate in America and the estimated 338,000+ students who have experienced gun violence in schools since Columbine.

Data shows countries with much stricter gun laws including Canada, France, Germany, Japan, Italy and the UK have had 5 total school shootings, while America alone has 288 (2009-2018) America has already had 18 this year (2024) as of April 18th. America has seen an uprise with school shootings after the pandemic, in 2021 there were 73, in 2022 there were 79 and in 2023 there were 82 school shootings. In the past three years there have been a total of 234 school shootings. Many believe the number one cause of childhood mortality in America (0-19) is cancer or abortion. But this simply isn't true, in America the leading cause of child death is gun violence. In 2021 2,590 children lost their life to guns. While in Canada the leading cause is accidental injury. The NRA states gun laws don’t work and brings up strict cities have high crime rates. I personally find it interesting they ignore the gun aspect of it. The issue doesn’t lie within what the city or state does for real change its up to the federal government. The NRA says Chicago has strict gun laws but has high crimes, that doesn't have to do with guns. Take California, one of the strictest states with guns compared to Texas the state with some of the least strict laws. Californias gun mortality rate is 8.5 per 100,000 while Texas's’ is 14.2 per 100,000. In Texas’s’ history with gun laws after the Luby's shooting the state made it legal for open carry. In 2012 after the sandy Hook elementary shooting which killed 20 kids ages 6-7 in Connecticut, Texas made it legal for school staff to bear arms and after a church shooting the state made it legal to carry firearms in places of worship (mosques, churches etc.) All these laws passed that took restrictions off guns made the trend of mass gun violence to increase. States ran by democratic leaders were found more likely to pass laws in the state that restricts guns were found more effective at keeping mass shooting changes insignificant. However, the state with the highest gun violence is Mississippi. Comparing capita to the most restrictive state, California, the state that the NRA claims is the most violent, Illinois and the state with the highest gun violence, Mississippi. Out of the three California has the lowest with 9.0, Illinois with 16.1 and Mississippi with the highest of 33.9 per capita.  Comparing evidence, we can see that the common denominator is that stricter laws bring down gun deaths and will limit petty crimes and situations from becoming deadly when guns are involved. And you’d think the federal government would act on this and add restrictions to limit types of rifles, but they haven’t. The closest they’ve gotten was the red flag program bill passed after the Robb school

shooting in 2021 which left 21 children and staff dead due to the police waiting 77 minutes after arriving, armed with vests and shields, to do anything. In response president Joe Biden passed the bill to end gun background check loopholes instead of talking about the issue of the polices incapability.

Studies show 57% of students in America are scared to go to school due to the rise of school shootings. Over the years about 45% of schools have installed metal detectors and other security measurements. These detectors are more common in high minority schools; however students of minorities are more scared of the chance of school shootings. In arguments of school security being the solution, some often bring up giving teachers guns however many teachers state they would never want to put their students in those situations or have to take a life. 78% of republicans agree with this while only 24% of democrats agree. 81% democrats say that banning assault-style weapons would be effective and 35% republicans agree too, overall majority, including teachers, agree that arming teachers wouldn’t help. Some parents have bought bulletproof backpacks and inserts to keep their child safe, the backpacks cost as much as an AR-15. Leading to the next point that ‘good guys with guns stop bad guys with guns’ isn’t accurate, in fact in schools where security is armed during shootings they can’t stop the shooter. Personally, as a Canadian where gun laws are strict, I have never seen an armed security guard in a school or have seen metal detectors in my school. Now we have all been 6 years old and I, personally at that age I liked to feel safe at school.

The most common argument about Americas gun laws is the second amendment. It’s by far the most political amendment, as mentioned earlier the suspected original intent was against the British. The amendment says it shall not be infringed. However, over time the federal and state government have passed laws that limit guns however have not infringed the right to own.  So, who’s to say that they can’t limit more high capacity magazines, in sports of hunting who needs a gun that can shoot 60 bullets in a single minute?

Media like games, music and movies have all been blamed for school shootings. This is a common misconception. The most common motives for school shootings are bullying, which can be seen with the Thuston school shooting, and columbine copycats (AKA. Columbiners) which can be seen with the Weis market shooting. Although mental health is also common it doesn’t directly lead to shootings, mental health gives a person the mindset and guns give them the ability.

In conclusion guns should be stricter to reduce childhood death. A child deserves to feel safe in school and not fear becoming a victim to the myriads of kids shot and killed per year in America. I believe all these facts and statistics, like children being scared about their safety and the 388,000 kids who have heard gunshots at school, Americas answer is stricter gun laws. At what cost, how many children who haven’t reached 10 will have to die before America realizes the right to live till 19 is more important than the weapon used to take the right away?

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Pressure reader finding a gun and now can and will defend themself from monster or execute other people for doing something dumb

I'm sorry but I saw this and decided to run with how finding a gun might actually go for a Prisoner!Reader /lh

..................

"Wow...guess somebody forgot to pick this up. Or maybe Sebastian got tired of me dying to those monsters all the time.."

Staring down at the weapon that was just laying on the floor, you looked around to see if any cameras were currently watching you. Of course, there was a singular one with a red light in the corner above the next door, aimed directly at your position.

They were always watching.

From the comfort and safety of their headquarters, they watched you get maimed by the creatures here over and over again. Whether it's a Wall Dweller sneaking up on you or Pandemonium ramming into the locker you're hiding in nonstop....they've seen it all.

So at this point, you didn't care that they could see your clear interest in the object on the ground.

One you were forbidden to take.

But to hell with them and their rules.

After all you've suffered through down here, you deserved to have some kind of self-defense tool that wasn't just a light source you had to conserve.

Why shouldn't you be allowed to protect yourself? They were going to kill all the creatures who escaped containment, anyways, so if you could kill them now, why not?

Unfortunately, HQ begged to differ, as the moment you crouched down to pick up the pistol, a familiar voice came onto the intercom:

"Do not touch the weapon. Leave it alone and it will be collected by authorized personnel later."

"...figures." You glared at the camera, standing up. "Why don't you tell your "authorized personnel" to put down those sea monsters instead?! I think I'm allowed to defend myself if-"

*pop*

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Back here again, are we?"

"Yeah..I guess.." Grumbling, you rubbed your neck as you looked up at the familiar trio of glowing blue eyes and angler lure. Even now, you still had a killer headache from the PDG detonation.

Then again, that was your own fault.

You didn't need to read the same document twice.

"I don't recommend defying them again. At least..not until you find a way to scramble their connection." Sebastian advised, sighing as he shook his head. "You gotta remember you have no rights down here. Neither of us do. It sucks but, we gotta deal with it."

"The IDS has gone haywire..but they're worried about me shooting through a glass window.." You huffed. "What if it wasn't even loaded?"

"Well I'm not sure if you know this, but prisoners and guns don't exactly go together. Just use what you've learned in the past to avoid the threats. It doesn't matter to them how "badly" you think you needed a firearm. You'll never get your hands on one, and I'm certainly not gonna sell any to you. Period."

"....I guess that pistol would've been useless if it didn't any rounds..."

"Anyway, here's what your overseer had to say on the matter. It's..kinda funny." Sebastian showed you another file, documenting your time and cause of death, along with a comment.

"The EXR-P stumbled across a small firearm that was left behind during the lockdown and defied direct orders to drop it, thinking they were an exception to the rule. This cannot happen again."

"Okay, that's bullshit. They're making it sound like I was an entitled asshole." You pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I can see why. Backtalking them is funny and all until your head pops. If you want them to take you seriously, you'll have to reach that crystal."

"Fine. I'll be a good little expendable and just focus on that." Putting a ferryman token on the table, you looked up at Sebastian. "Tell the guy downstairs I wanna continue where I was."

"Alright. Better not waste it." He swiped the coin, fading back into the darkness.

In the blink of an eye, you returned to the Blacksite, in the same room that you died in. It was clear of any blood that was left behind after your PDG went off, and of course..the pistol wasn't anywhere to be found.

It would have been useless anyways.

On the bright side, you did find a blacklight and some batteries in the drawers that you didn't check before, and you realized it's wiser to just use them to protect yourself.

'Okay. Let's just play it safe and keep going.'

[wixhing0nastar]

From Hound to Hawkeye: The Evolution of Vi's Protector

I remember when I first saw the interview lines from Amanda Overton post-S2 talking about Vi's character arc this season and feeling a little confused by them at first. Who is Vi when she doesn't have anyone to protect? The type of person to fall in love. Which while beautiful, begged the question in my mind; what about Caitlyn?

But the more I've thought about it in the interim the more obvious the answer has become. Vi doesn't have anyone left to protect because Caitlyn doesn't need Vi to protect her. In fact, over the course of the show Caitlyn undergoes a journey to become Vi's protector. Specifically, Caitlyn steps in and fills the hole, that need for love and protection, that was left behind after Vander's death in Vi's youth.

And once I made that connection it was suddenly really easy to start noticing all of the parallels between Caitlyn and Vander, especially when it comes to their interactions with Vi.

Caitlyn's journey on the path to becoming Vi's protector started in Stillwater, when she first freed her, but this arc doesn't really kick off until after Vi gets stabbed while fighting Sevika at the end of Episode 5 and she's then forced to depend on Caitlyn for safety, on account of the whole being stabbed thing. And that's when the Protector Arc, and the Caitlyn/Vander parallels, begin in earnest.

~Both lecture Vi for her impulsiveness before/while tending to her wounds~

Even this early on Caitlyn already cares for Vi's safety (a trait we quickly learn applies to most people) and we get the very obvious, show makes sure we know it's a parallel to Vander, Caitlyn telling Vi that she has a good heart.

This is quickly followed by her leaving to find Vi some type of medicine which leads to the next big parallel between Vander and Caitlyn.

~Both sacrifice their weapons in a dangerous situation to keep Vi safe~

Vander drops his gauntlets on the bridge in the middle of the fighting (even if it was dying down), sacrificing them in order to pick Vi and Powder up and take her to safety. In the same vein, Caitlyn sells her only firearm in the middle of a dangerous environment while tracking down a terrorist with almost no bureaucratic support to get Vi a cure for being stabbed.

Shortly thereafter we get the whole escape from Silco/finding Jinx sequence which isn't relevant except for how it leads to the next parallel when Vi and Caitlyn get captured by the Firelights.

~Both attempt to sacrifice their freedom for Vi's~

Now, Caitlyn's already captured here but I think it counts. Before the reveal that Vi's on good terms with the Firelights, Caitlyn is seen fighting tooth and nail to get them to release Vi and keep her in Vi's stead. Vander on the other hand willingly turned himself over to the Enforcers in Vi's place to keep her from having to spend who knows how many years in Stillwater.

~Both went to bat for Vi against politically powerful opponents~

Caitlyn immediately goes toe-to-toe with Cassandra when she makes it back topside, demanding assistance and offering reproachful glares whenever someone says something remotely offensive about Vi (honestly everything with Ambessa also fits here but she's later). Vander on the other hand was trying to juggle Silco's schemes (that he didn't even know about), Marcus' impudence, and Sevika's betrayal while trying to keep Vi's life unaffected.

After this there's only one major parallel between Caitlyn and Vander until the end of S2A2, but there's some other fun Protector Things to talk about in S2A1. Specifically, how Caitlyn steps up and becomes Vi's protector in the wrong way during this act.

There's this specific old-timey usage of Protector that's popular in like... period romances(?) I was a lit major but I didn't specialize in period romances lol to refer to an influential individual (typically a man) who bestows financial and social protections on someone (typically a woman) without granting them the legal protections of marriage.

This is, essentially, what's happened with Vi and Caitlyn in the first act of the second season. We know that Vi's not living with Caitlyn but she also doesn't seem to be working, so the logical conclusion is that Caitlyn is handling her accommodations. In terms of social we know Caitlyn went so far as to threaten to pull her family's funds from the city if they didn't, basically, treat Vi as an equal citizen instead of the sister of a terrorist. But they aren't together romantically and they aren't living together with any of the implied legal protections one might have as an actual ward of Caitlyn's house.

Which leads up to the next one:

~Both lash out in their grief at the wrong people~

And more specifically, they lash out at the wrong person who was sort of a tangential cause in the death of a loved one. Vander attacks and blames Silco for Felicia's death and while she's primarily holding herself responsible, Caitlyn is also aware that she would have stopped Jinx without hesitation if she wasn't Vi's sister; if Vi hadn't made her second guess herself and show mercy... well Cassandra might be alive.

There's also a very specific parallel between S2A2 Caitlyn and Post-Bridge Vander. Both allow an outside force (the Enforcers/the Noxians) to have unfettered access to the Undercity in the hopes of preventing escalating violence, only for things to continue to get even worse.

~Vi is able to pull them from the dark/reestablish their humanity~

When Vi reunites with both Vanderwick and Caitlyn in S2 Act 2 they've both completely lost themselves down darker paths. Vander's mind is being destroyed by Shimmer and he barely remembers he's a person and is largely just Warwick at this point while Caitlyn is lost in a sea of guilt-driven revenge and is donning the title "Commander" like a cloak of self-flagellation. And Vi's able to cut through Warwick to Vander and The Commander to Caitlyn because of their deep rooted love and need to protect her.

Then we get Caitlyn betraying Ambessa and the fight at the commune and I'll come back to this with the last parallel but first I wanna talk about the decisive moment where Caitlyn became Vi's protector, for real this time.

~Both choose to sacrifice revenge in order to save Vi~

During the fight at the commune, Vi is horribly, life-threateningly injured. As folks have noted before, Jinx gives Caitlyn a clear shot at her back while she's distracted (while there's enough chaos for it to be realistic for her to get caught by a stray bullet) and Caitlyn completely ignores her in favor of rushing to Vi's side. Plus she continues to put aside her feelings about Jinx in order for them to get Vi topside safely, and eventually allows Vi to free her when she willingly surrenders. Meanwhile, Vander pulled the same sorta deal in Episode 3 when the factory was about the blow up. He had a moment he could have gone, was going to go after Silco but realized the building was collapsing and Vi was still trapped inside after having a beam dropped on her. Naturally Vander rushed to save Vi, which allowed Silco to escape.

For Caitlyn, however, this is the exact moment she basically takes Vi properly under her protection. In fact, going back to the "old-timey romance novel" version of Protector. The way in which Caitlyn allows Vi to free Jinx, in addition to the fact they are living together post-canon, show that Vi now has legal protections and those protections come from her implied position as a Kiramman.

More to the point, the way in which Vi frees Jinx is reminiscent of how Caitlyn herself freed Vi back in Episode 5. With Caitlyn manipulating the pieces behind the scenes since Vi wasn't really aware she'd been granted Kiramman privileges yet. But to summarize:

Both were somewhere they weren't really supposed to be, but there wasn't anyone who'd question them (Caitlyn because she's a Kiramman, Vi because Caitlyn removed all the guards)

Both freed a prisoner unauthorized knowing hoping that someone higher up would have their back (Caitlyn knowing Jayce would have her back and Vi hoping Caitlyn would be willing to let Jinx help)

Both did indeed have someone higher up the food chain keep them from getting in trouble (Jayce covering for Caitlyn to Marcus and Caitlyn coming down to the cells to make sure she found/freed Vi before anyone else)

Another point in the "this is where Caitlyn becomes Vi's protector" agenda, but ever since that very first scene of the series on the bridge, Vi's always worn some sort of wraps right up until she wakes up in S2A3 in Caitlyn's bed.

Aka: she can finally put her weapon's down, because she's found herself placed firmly under Caitlyn's protection, which means she's finally, fully safe.

And then for the final (and this parts' going to be a dozy so buckle in) we can hop back to the battle at the commune and Caitlyn turning on Ambessa. And what I really love here is that Caitlyn, who has spent the last several months being manipulated at literally every turn, finds one single earnest, honest person again and is like

~Both are willing to start a war in order to protect Vi~

This parallel actually goes a little nuts. Because not only are both of them willing to start a war to protect Vi and her family, with Vander refusing to give the kids up to the Enforcers and nearly starting the civil war almost a decade early versus Caitlyn who refuses to give up Vanderwick real full circle moment here to Ambessa and Singed and actually starts a war with Noxus over it. No, they are both nearly killed in the fallout while taking a knife to the gut from someone they used to trust (Silco/Ambessa) after getting betrayed by someone they thought they could (Sevika/Maddie).

And Caitlyn actually does have to start and finish said war in order to protect Vi. Which brings me to my final point, which is actually something I've seen several complaints about but was really important for Vi's character arc.

Caitlyn needed to fight in the war without Vi. With Vi at a considerably safer location, all things told. Because an important part of Vi's arc is that she's just a normal girl who keeps getting caught up in matters far larger than her when really all she wants is to keep her little family safe, only to have it tragically clawed apart again and again.

So there are two parts to this. Firstly, why it was important for Vi to not need to be there. Because time and again Vi's watched as she'd failed to save her loved ones. Been feet away from them as they were brutally killed in front of her. Her being there hasn't ever been enough to save anyone. But with Caitlyn? Who's protecting not just Vi's fragile mortal form, but her battered, bleeding heart? Caitlyn didn't even need Vi there to come back alive (hurt, but alive).

Building from that we then circle back to the fact that, again, Vi's just your average girl from down in the lanes. There's a reason she nearly has a panic attack when she's sitting in on the war council and realizes how bad the situation is. And it's okay. In the end, Caitlyn and her people (well, mostly Mel) are able to handle Ambessa while Vi's allowed to basically focus on a family matter putting Warwick to rest with Jinx. Aka: Vi isn't responsible for dealing with the big major catastrophe and doesn't have to make it her priority. She can trust that Caitlyn's taking care of it and focus on taking care of her family, the thing she's wanted to do the whole time regardless of how it might have turned out.

While they don't really have a ton of screen time once they get together, the two scenes we do get also showcase this change in dynamics. Especially since, given Vi's affinity for fighting, most of the protection Caitlyn is providing at that point is emotional.

I just mentioned how Vi nearly had a panic attack in the war council, but note how it was nearly because Caitlyn immediately picked up on it (like, it took less than five seconds) and reached out for her, in an official, public setting mind you, to hold her hand and reassure her.

The final scene lends even further to this. Caitlyn is clearly hard-tuned in to Vi's emotional state. She's smirking and running off to see her after hearing her hum like, one line, clearly excited to witness some sort of levity out of her. And after Vi explains though Caitlyn offers some fairly non-evasive comfort (resting her head against Vi's shoulder and gently encouraging her to open up if need be) which serves as an invitation for Vi to choose to take more of said comfort, which she does, physically at least.

And it's such a perfect culmination of their respective arcs. Vi's a Lover, who's been forced to don a Fighter's mantle for years until nothing of her was left. While Caitlyn is a Fighter Protector who spent her whole life locked up in a gilded cage, desperate for more but constantly told her only role was to dance and sing for her public.

In the end Vi's allowed to start piecing herself back together, figuring out who the hell Violet is, while Caitlyn finally has a partner she can trust and rely on who does the same for her in turn.

Someone who sees her as an equal and loves her for herself, someone she can safely hand her heart over to.

And that's for both of them.

[inkieflame]

I have a question/writing prompt (you can choose what to do with it) about your lab AU!

How was Impulse coping when he found out that Skizz escaped after the fire in the Last Life lab? Or did he even know that Skizz escaped, or did the watchers just let him believe the fire had killed Skizz? And what did Impulse do when Skizz willingly turned himself back in?

I want Imp and Skizz angst :3

‘Cause you’ll miss the sun (The warmth of another’s embrace)

An Imp and Skizz fic

Word count: 2100

Trigger warnings: drugs, implied death, blood drawing, firearms

Aka: Skizz is gone and Impulse is coping. Featuring failed escape attempts and flat lines.

It doesn’t take long for Impulse to realize people are missing.

The past few hours have been overwhelming. Being soulbound to Bdubs, Impulse hasn’t had a moment of silence yet. And part of that is nice, because it means he has a distraction from this sense of dread that has begun to loom over him.

Because Impulse hasn’t seen his best friend yet.

He knows that Lizzie missing too, from how Joel is dragging his new soulmate around the facility as he looks for her. Etho looks exhausted from all the movement, and Impulse thinks he might pass out the moment Joel lets him rest.

That night, Impulse still hasn’t seen Skizz yet. He falls asleep to the rhythm of Bdubs counting next to him.

…

Impulse is no stranger to the medical center.

Bleach white walls covered with propaganda-like posters telling the subjects “we care for you!” and “good subjects take their meds on time!” the right wall has two doors, both leading to surgery rooms that Impulse is intimately familiar with. One large screen takes up the majority of the left wall, divided up into about two dozen sections labeled with various subject’s names. Underneath their names are heartbeat monitors.

Impulse doesn’t recognize some of the few few names. Grian, Martyn, Jimmy, those he does know, but Taurtis? Salem? Netty? Impulse doesn’t know them, and he knows that’s because of the flat lines under their names.

When he visits the Double Life medical center for the first time, he can’t help but scan the screen for Skizz’s name. He dreads the flat line, and is confused when the screen shows his heartbeat drumming on steadily.

Somewhere, Skizz is alive.

Just not with Impulse.

The Watcher who brought him here guides Impulse to the chair nearby, and he sits. They turn to ready their equipment, and Impulse keeps his gaze on the screen across from him.

Thump thump. Thump thump. Skizz keeps living and breathing. Thump thump.

The Watcher takes him arm and puts it up on the counter next to him. Impulse keeps his eyes trained on the screen. He doesn’t like to look when they put the needle in.

There is a pinch and Impulse clenches his teeth quietly. He pain subsides quickly, and the Watcher turns to start the pump.

Impulse doesn’t know why the Watchers collect his blood, he assumes they donate it, or sell it. Either way, he’s always in the medical center for it. Once a week, always at one.

Recently this time has been nice. It’s a few minutes of silence where he’s detached from Bdub’s and his constant murmuring. The blood draining makes him lightheaded and dizzy, but it’s not painful. So Impulse will find comfort in it.

…

The alarms wakes the entire facility.

Normally there are small alarms. Sirens contained to the medical center, and the devices the Watchers have. They go off when a subject is in danger.

Sometimes these alarms go off for Jimmy, when he’s out on rental and the Watchers need to go pull him out.

But this blaring noise is deafening. It rings out, one constant tone, stretching on forever and ever. Impulse doesn’t know what it’s for.

He makes his way out of his bed, wanting to crane his head down the hall and see who else was woken. But Bdubs groans and pulls back on the chain.

“Time to shreep.” He mumbles. “Too early.”

Through the open window Impulse can see Bigb, charging down the hall looking panicked. Ren is at his heels, whining and barking at the sirens.

Close behind them, Martyn is checking every room, with Cleo complaining loudly behind him.

His door opens, “Are you alive?” Martyn asks and, seeing Impulse sitting there with Bdubs still beside him, barges in.

“Martyn!” Cleo snaps, “Stop dragging me! What are you doing?”

Martyn wastes no time in grabbing Bdubs and shaking him awake, “’Dubs? Are you there?”

When Bdubs groans weakly and pushes Martyn away, Martyn let’s out a breath of relief.

“Next room.” He demands, but Cleo stands stubbornly in the doorway.

“What is happening?” She says.

Martyn shoves at her, clearly panicked, “Cleo, move, we don’t have time for this.”

“What does the alarm mean!?” She shouts, even though she doesn’t need to shout to be heard over the noise.

“it means someone has died, okay, now move.” Martyn pushes past her, “and we need to figure out who it was, and if it was someone here or rented.”

“why?!”

Martyn stops and looks at Impulse, “get ready to run.” He says, “it might be tonight.”

And then they are both gone.

And Bdubs is already asleep again.

…

Impulse ends up carrying his sleeping soulmate. Bdubs manages to sleep through the alarms.

Most of the subjects are in the lobby, waiting. Impulse sees Martyn eyeing the red lights of the security cameras.

As soon as those lights turn off Martyn waves, getting the group’s attention.

“Hey! Hey, guys, listen.” He says, “we don’t have long, so pay attention.”

The group quiets curiously.

“Etho and Joel have just turned off the camera system, but the back up system will be on in about ten minutes.” Martyn starts, “Skizz just flat lined, so most of the Watchers are out of the lab. This is the best time to coordinate escape.”

Skizz? Skizz flat lined?

The thought settles in Impulse’s stomach like a millstone in a lake. Skizz flat lined.

Martyn is still talking. He’s handing something out to a few of the subjects. There is a copy of the lab passed around.

But Impulse isn’t really paying attention to any of it.

He can’t be dead.

He can’t.

But the alarm hasn’t stopped, and to Impulse it sounds like the constant monotonous tone of a flat line.

…

The escape fails.

Of course it does, there was no way that it could succeed. They still hadn’t gotten use to moving while tethered to someone. And Tango and Etho were drugged and sleepy. And Ren barked at any foreign movement.

And the Watchers came back far too soon.

Impulse doesn’t think they ever found Skizz. They were still in and out of the lab for hours after their initial return. He knows that if they find him soon enough, they could put him back together.

He's seen it a few times with Jimmy. The little alarms go off, a noise contained to the medical center, and the all Watchers go into a flurry to retrieve him from his renters.

He’s brought into the operating room limp, and walks out just a fine a few hours later. The Watchers are irritated after that. All tires and angry like it has taken too much out of them to keep him alive.

Impulse wonders how long they have after death to bring someone back. It has been hours, almost a full day, since Skizz’s alarm.

The system wide noise has been silenced, but Impulse can still hear the ringing of the flat line when he walks by the medical center.

…

Impulse cannot be soothed.

Bdubs can tell this, first because the weeks of close quarters has taught him how to read Impulse, and second because of how he can barely hold a conversation.

Every word has a bite to it, teeth laced with venom and fury and broken glass. Impulse doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He doesn’t want to feel anymore. Everything hurts, and everything aches, and it’s been days and days without rest from this.

The Watchers sing no dirge. There is no requiem for Impulse to hold to dearly.

Only quiet empty space, and the rhythmic counting that Bdubs has never stopped. Softly counting to the next day Impulse has to face without Skizz.

There is an anger and an ache.

And it stays and stays.

…

It is about noon when the lobby wall explodes outwards, and the subjects around it leap up and out of the way.

A black van crashes into the room, swerving to a stop.

Impulse and Bdubs are in the lobby with Etho and Joel when it happens. Etho lifts his sleepy head to stare at the rubble. Joel openly gapes.

The driver side door slams open, and Impulse feels his heart drum. Skizz stands there, pale wings, bright halo, dressed in a hoodie and jeans like he’s never seen the horrors of the lab. There is no uniform, and no collar.

Skizz hurries to open the side door, “I’m getting y’all out of here.” He shouts, “get in the van, get in the van!”

Joel tugs suddenly at Etho’s chain, but Etho needs to encouragement. They’re both hurrying to the car doors.

Skizz catches Impulse’s eyes. Impulse swallows, frozen.

“Hey man!” Skizz beams at him. Sunshine and sunshine, “Get in the van, let’s go!”

Bdubs is tugging at him, but Impulse can only stare.

“I thought you were dead.” He thinks, or whispers, or screams. “I thought you were dead.”

Skizz puts a firm hand on his shoulder, “Good to see you, dude.”

Around them, other subjects are gravitating to the noise. Skizz helps Impulse and Bdubs into the van, and others are joining them. Jimmy and Tango. Scott.

“Someone go find Scar, make sure he’s not stuck somewhere.” Skizz orders, “Ren too. I’m not leaving anyone behind.”

Impulse crams into the back of the van, feeling the way the weight shifts and creaks as all thirteen of them make their way on.

Etho murmurs something to Joel about Watchers. Next to him, Tango is nodding off, unable to stay away despite the chaos around him.

“Where’s Martyn?” Skizz asks, counting each of the people in the van, “and Pearl. Where are they?”

“Rented.” Scott says. “they’re not here right now.” Instead of Pearl, Scott seems to be tethered to a weight. Cleo has the same ball-and-chain attached to her.

Skizz grimaces.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Scar shouts. “Sorry, we couldn’t get Grian to move.”

When Impulse cranes his head to look out the tinted windows, he can see Bigb sprinting up to the van, desperately pushing a wheelchair with both Scar and Grian in it. Grian is twitching angrily like he’s upset at being saved. Ren is bounding right behind them.

Skizz does another count as Scar is lifted out of his chair and pulled into someone’s lap. Grian is tugged along too, although he looks like he might start to fight back soon. Ren is pushed into the van, and Bigb closes the door behind him.

“That’s everyone. Go.” Joel demands.

“Pearl and Martyn-” Scott begins weakly, and his protests are shut down by the jolt of the van.

Impulse can see the Watchers surrounding the vehicle, just a few minutes too late to stop them from all getting in.

They are shouting, but the purring of the engine and the walls of the van are soft and sweet, letting no violence in. Skizz steps on the gas, and cranks the wheel to drive right back out of the lobby.

There is a small series of beeping that comes from everyone’s collar.

Ren jumps up, clearly panicked by the noise. Or maybe he knows what it means.

Because a moment later there is a prick at the back of Impulse’s neck, right where his collar meets his skin.

His stomach drops with the realization.

Etho recognizes it too, “We’ve just been drugged.” He mumbles. Then he turns to Skizz, “Skizz, they got us.”

But his words slur, and Skizz can only glance at him in confusion. The van goes barreling through the opening of the wall.

There are distant gunshots.

Impulse is nodding off, but he knows that’s weird. The Watchers don’t shoot at them, they would get hurt. Why guns now?

The vehicle stutters underneath them, and Skizz swears.

They swerve as they make it outside. The van is failing for sure, but Skizz keeps urging it on.

Impulse passes out before the car stops.

…

Impulse almost expects to wake up back home.

Maybe on the couch, curled next to his best friend. Or maybe in bed with his wife at his side.

But he is greeted with the same white walls. The same collar at his throat. He’s not tied to Bdubs anymore, but he still feels anchored to this place.

Next to him, Skizz is waking slowly. He is in uniform again, metal collar and all. He groans and rubs his eyes, and Impulse feels his stomach twist.

They had been so close.

He could taste it.

But still, they end up back here again. And like always Grian is standing and gesturing grandly around the new building.

“Welcome to Limited Life.” He declares, “Enjoy your stay.”

[ranticore]

declassified ex-patreon post: the empty city

Pictured (click tha link for full piece) - Rosy Wing and Patches on a romantic evening, before Rosy's death. Aerial displays are an important courtship activity, serving to reinforce the pair's bond year after year.

The endless city is exactly what it sounds like. It covers the top of the Houndstooth mountain range like a growth of moss on a boulder. It comprises of buildings made entirely of pure white limestone right down to the window latticework and roof shingles. The doorways and rooms are scaled strangely, not appearing to conform to human sizes, and the horizontal architecture alignment (i.e not built to accommodate flying creatures) seems to suggest that insects didn't build it either. There are no organic materials naturally occurring within the city, not even microbial life, although some has been introduced in recent years by expeditioneers. Some parts of the city have been claimed by the rich patrons of expedition teams, and are guarded 24/7 by armed patrols - usually these territories are held for easier ingress into the deeper parts of the city for teams owned by the patron in question. 

There is a boundary wall, with no gates. Roads within the city that lead outwards terminate at these walls as though there should be a gate or portcullis, but there are none. Many patrons have chosen to sink funding into constructing their own proprietary doorways in secret, strategic locations. Spies who figure out where a rival team enters the city can choose to report back, to allow their own teams to stage an ambush, or they can demand payment in return for conveniently forgetting what they have learned. Money rules everyone in the city; it is so hostile to sustained life that purchasing basic supplies from the closest mountainside towns is the only way to get any food at all, so exploring is an expensive business. But it can also be lucrative, if you become one of the few lucky enough to find uncharted regions, or figure out a way to penetrate deeper without simply wandering in endless circles. 

Theran insects are considered ideal employees for expeditions - cheap and easily exploited, those new to the game are often satisfied with being paid in food and trinkets. But as the years go on, more and more of them have begun to learn how to exploit the system for their own ends, and that amassing capital of their own can lead to many advantages. Human employees are always necessary on any serious expedition, because only humans can wield firearms. 

The 'why' of all this is the curious part - why sink huge sums of money into a dangerously competitive expedition when the city appears to be completely empty? It has become more of a vanity project than anything else, with many wealthy patrons convinced that they will one day profit off of the land they capture, selling homes to people on this new frontier. Others believe that the city is evidence for the existence of god, and that they are exploring purgatory, or indeed heaven. Either way it's believed that one day, all their expense will be paid off a thousandfold, and their speculative betting on the city will, essentially, make the line go up.

[today's words below]

One day, approximately 20ish years ago, the Houndstooth mountains appeared. They appeared in two parallel dimensions but at the exact same point, destroying anything that had been standing there before. On Earth, this was half of the city of Quern. On Thera, it was a gigantic forest of Tithe trees. There is evidence that the mountains will disappear within another 20 years, just as they did millions of years ago, during the first appearance. At that time, Earth insects were able to cross the mountain range to colonise a world that had nothing but plants (which had likely also travelled there a million years before by the same method). Before those mountains disappear for another million years, the people of Quern and Thera must figure out what lies at the heart of the city at the top of those mountains.

So the story was about a team of expeditioneers, funded/owned by a wealthy patron, who travel into the city to find its heart. The ending of the story was relatively simple - the city was an allegory for obsession and grief, and was shaped like a fractal - if you happen to take the correct turn, a thousand times in a row, you travel 'deeper' into it, into the limbs of the fractal, and the truth is that it is endless. there is no heart of the city, there is no core, there's nothing lying in wait in there but it captures the minds & imaginations of expeditioneers and patrons alike. that's why i drew an ouroboros in that pic, it's fully metaphorical. the city is EMPTY. The characters trapped in this expedition (and their grief-fuelled justifications for expeditioning at all) have to make the conscious choice to stop exploring, to turn their back on the sunk cost fallacy, to stop chasing what might lie around the next corner, and go home. But that's much harder than it sounds.

look at some of the insects in my setting tag and enjoy