that arm action

7

Spencer Model 1863 Army repeating rifle with Blakeslee 1864 Patent magazine box

Manufactured by Spencer Repeating Arms in Boston, Massachusetts c.1864, magazine box manufactured by Erasmus Blakeslee c.1864 in Chicopee, Massachusetts - serial number 5164.
.52RF Spencer 7-round tubular magazine, the wood tin and leather Blakeslee box holds 7 spare magazines for a total of 49 spare rounds of ammunition. Lever action repeater, manually cocked hammer, full length musket-style foregrip with the barrel bands and the whole shebang.

The Spencer military rifle’s success with mounted Union infantry is what prompted its better known variant, the M1860 carbine, to be adopted en masse by Union cavalry units by the end of the American Civil War.
The magazine box however was barely used, despite 30000 units being delivered to the Union during the war.

2

so, on the subject of fish

I dont fuckign know guys

Secret Admirer

Note: I’ve been sick so I haven’t been able to get too many requests done. but I really enjoyed writing this! I do hope you like it! feedback is welcome! thanks for the request, sweetie .c

Request: Bucky gets jealous and protective when he finds out that a man has been showering you, his wife, with gifts and presents and letters and confronts that man :-D

Originally posted by caps-bucky


If one thing about Bucky was for certain: he despises another male giving you attention. He spent years and years believing nobody could ever love him, and he’d be damned if he let another man swoop in and steal you away, the one who loves him dearly. Though, countless times you’ve assured Bucky that he’s the only man you have eyes on, and you’d never leave him, he was still protective of you. 


Bucky was startled out of his deep slumber early in the morning, to find the postman holding a bouquet of roses, asking for him to sign for them. His stomach twisted and his eyes squinted at the brightly colored flowers.  

“Are you sure this is the right address? I didn’t order flowers.” Bucky always hand picked your flowers, never bought, except on special occasions. You preferred handpicked, enjoying the special meaning behind them a lot more than a floral shop arrangement. But sometimes Bucky would surprise you. This was not one of those times.

The postman nodded and gave Bucky a friendly smile. “Yep! Y/N Y/L/N still lives here, right?” The postman asks, noticing Bucky’s eyes flitting back and forth across his face. “What’s it to you?” Bucky snaps, angrily taking the vase from the postman’s hand.

The postman’s eyes widen and he stands there, shocked. “Just making sure. The floral shop has no time for mistakes.” He said before turning on his heel and rushing away to finish his route.

Bucky sighed heavily as he looked for a note attached to the roses. He wanted to throw them away, maybe even stomp on them and hunt the asshole down and give him a piece of his mind. But instead, he waited patiently for you to finish showering before he acted on his emotions.

He sat them on the kitchen island in your shared apartment, wracking his brain as to who would send you, his wife, such an intimate gift. It couldn’t have been someone from your family; sadly so, you lost connections after being recruited. The guys on the team knew better to pull a prank like this; trying to woo his woman, they knew he’d stop at nothing to make sure every last flower was shoved so far up-

“Ooo, pretty!” Your voice rang through the kitchen as you skipped over to Bucky. Bucky’s heart sank at the sound of the excitement coming from your pretty mouth he loves to kiss so much. “Bucky, you shouldn’t have!” You smiled brightly, leaning over to him and placing a kiss to his cheek.

He frowned at your reaction, knowing how happy you got anytime he ever got you flowers. “I didn’t.” Bucky mumbled with a frown, his tired eyes falling to your hand on his arm. Your eyebrows creased with confusion. Your eyes scanned the bouquet, searching for a card as you twisted the vase around. Only then did you realize there wasn’t one.

“Well, who would’ve sent me these?” You asked softly, nobody coming to mind. Bucky shrugged and you tapped your fingers against the kitchen island. “I don’t like this.” Bucky grumbled before getting off the seat and pacing the kitchen.

You sighed and almost rolled your eyes at him, but even this confused you. “Well, why don’t I take them to the little old lady down the street later?” You offered with a small smile, wanting to get these away from Bucky before the vase was thrown into the wall. Or worse, into the head of the person that sent them.

Bucky nodded and looked over at you, his heart warming at the sight of your still wet hair and bright eyes. He never understood how someone could look so beautiful without even trying. So no, he was not about to let someone else see you this way.

You walked over to him and pulled him into you, your arms wrapping around his waist. Bucky held you close and he pressed his lips on the top of your head. His metal hand grasped at your shirt, the desperation to keep you in his arms evident in his actions. “I know you’re worrying. Don’t.” You whispered, looking up at Bucky, your chin resting on his torso.

His hand caressed your cheek and you smiled, causing one of his own to form on his lips.


It had been a week since the flower situation. Bucky didn’t dwell on it, but he was still alert when the postman would stop by. Bucky had been gone all morning, meeting up with Steve for the day. You were lounging around at home, working on a painting for your local art class, before you heard the doorbell ring.

You smiled and set down your paintbrush, wiping the paint on your hands onto your smock. You ran to the door and half expected to see Bucky, but knew he wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, and you were met with the postman.

“Hi Charlie!” You said with a smile, taking your letters from his outstretched hand. Charlie then pulled out a box, handing it to you. “What’s this?” You asked, inspecting the small box. “Not sure, sweetie. Sign here.” He said with a smile, offering you his pen and his clipboard. You quickly signed for the box and waved to Charlie before going back inside.

The box felt light and didn’t have any information on it except for your address. Placing the letters in the small mail slot near your door, you examined the box, lifting it to your ear as you gently shook it.

You couldn’t hear anything so you went to the kitchen to carefully open it with a knife. Light blue gift paper stuck out as you lifted the flaps open and you creased your eyebrows. This paper looks familiar.

You pulled it out and gasped, seeing a Tiffany & Co. business card on top of a light blue box with white satin ribbon tied around it, a bow sitting on the lid. You grasped the box and opened it, seeing a bracelet catching the sunlight through the windows, shining brightly in a ray of rainbow colors.

“Who are you?” You whispered. First the roses and now an expensive piece of jewelry? You had no clue who would be sending you things like this. You were sure Bucky was going to freak out after seeing this. Gently placing the bracelet back inside of the box, you left it there so you could finish painting.

A few hours passed, and you had finished your project. The door suddenly opened, heavy boots being taken off made you smile.

Bucky stepped into view and you squealed, running up to him. You always felt so happy when he got home. “Bucky!” You giggled, running straight into his arms. Bucky chuckled and caught you, twirling you around before capturing your lips with his.

You smiled into the kiss as Bucky held you closer. He smelled like shampoo and aftershave from his shower this morning, with a hint of vanilla. Bucky set you down and held your cheeks in his hands, smiling down at you.

“You’ve got paint in your hair.” Bucky said with a laugh, his fingers trying to clean it off. You flapped his hands away and giggled. You suddenly remembered the little box you got earlier and you gasped. “Oh yeah! A box came today.” You said, walking away from Bucky. His demeanor changed immediately, jealousy and anger settling into his chest.

“What is it? Who is it from? Did they leave a note?” He bombarded you with questions as he ganged up on your heels into the kitchen. You grabbed the box and opened it, getting the bracelet out again.

You held it out for Bucky to see and he looked at it, his eyebrows creasing. “Okay, this it getting out of hand already. I’m gonna find this punk and give him a piece of my mind.” Bucky growled, taking the bracelet from you. “This is the last fucking straw!“ He yelled, his loud voice echoing through the hallway before he turned into the living room.

You sighed and looked up at him. “Bucky, it could be harmless.” You explained, trying to catch up to Bucky as he turned away from you, his shoulders visibly tensing. He scoffed and shook his head. “Harmless? Another man is sending you gifts, Y/N!” Bucky exclaimed, turning to you and you got into the room.

Another sigh fell from your lips and you walked over to Bucky, pulling him into your arms. He stood still, his hand gripping tightly onto the bracelet. “I will figure out who this is, and I can’t promise I’ll be nice about it.” Bucky grumbled, his arms moving to wrap around your shoulders.


It’s been two weeks now and you’ve received another bouquet of roses and another piece of expensive jewelry, without a note of who it could be from. Bucky made many attempts at tracking the person down, but you hoped they would stop before he could hurt someone.

Suddenly, you heard the postman at the door. You rushed to the door, beating Bucky to it so he wouldn’t take any of this out on someone innocent. Luckily he was still in the kitchen. You opened the door and smiled at the postman, asking him how his morning has been so far.

“Rather lovely! Here’s your mail!” Charlie said with a chipper voice, his hand holding a few letters out to you. You took them with a smile and said goodbye. Charlie returned your smile before heading back down the walkway, his bag slung over his shoulder.

You shifted through the letters as you walked back inside, kicking the door shut behind you. Most of the letters were simple bills, but a purple colored envelope with your name written in cursive on it caught your attention.

You were nervous to open it, you never really got any letters from anyone personally. You used to when you first became an Avenger, but now, it was rare. Maybe this was one of those times. You only hoped so, so Bucky wouldn’t freak out. But as you opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, your eyes raking down the message, your accusations were wrong.

Bucky walked in with an unreadable expression as he crossed over and behind you, looking down at the letter over your shoulder.

Dear Y/N, I hope you’ve enjoyed the gifts! I was scared to face you, but I’d like to meet up with you! If it’s okay with you, you can meet me at-” Bucky ripped the letter from your hands as he read the address and he laughed. “Is this idiot serious right now!?” He shouted as he stared down at you. You gave him a small shrug.

Whoever wrote the letter wanted you to meet them at noon at some coffee shop. “Bucky, please, don’t do anything you’ll regret.” You pleaded, looking up at a rather angry man. Bucky’s jaw clenched and he slipped on his baseball cap.

“I don’t know who this is, you are not coming with me. It could be a trap and they could hurt you, they could-” Bucky rushed and you quickly stepped onto your toes and shut him up with a kiss. “I’m going with you. I’ll be okay.” You said with a small smile.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed heavily. He looked back at you and shook his head gently. “I swear, he’s dead.” Bucky grumbled, grabbing your hand and making his way to the destination.

You took your time looking around the city, the sun shining brightly and a few birds flying around every now and then. Other than all of this, it was a nice day out. As you walked towards the coffee shop, you saw a familiar face standing outside, the man looking down at his watch.

You gasped as you realized who it was. It was your art partner, Riley. Was he the one that was sending you all of those gifts? “No way.” You whispered, catching Bucky’s attention. “Is that him?” Bucky asked as he caught sight of the man and immediately bolted towards him. “Hey! Punk!” Bucky yelled out, his metal hand whirring as he tightened his fist.

Riley’s head snapped towards you and Bucky, his eyes widening just in time for Bucky to lunge at him. Bucky grabbed Riley by his shirt and lifted him off of the ground. “So you’re the guy that’s been sending my wife gifts and love letters!?” Bucky yelled at Riley, moving to shove him against the brick building.

You stood back as you watched, your heart racing fast. “Bucky!” You yelled after him, noticing a few people slowly walk by as they took in the scene. The last thing you wanted was for Bucky to end up on the news channel for lashing out on someone in the public eye, so you knew you had to do something.

Rushing over to Bucky, you grabbed his arm. He was breathing heavily as he dropped Riley to the ground. Riley was pretty shaken up and you couldn’t help but feel guilty. “Bucky, let me talk to him. He’s from my art class.“ You said softly, moving to help Riley up. Bucky scoffed and looked at you bewildered. “Are you serious, Y/N!?” Bucky yelled out.

Riley stood back up and looked between you and Bucky. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. I didn’t mean any harm. She never mentioned a boyfriend.” Riley explained nervously. You let out a sigh. “I told you about Bucky, remember? He’s my husband.” You said, moving towards Bucky again. He pulled you into his side protectively.

Riley’s eyebrows creased. “I’ve never seen a ring.” He commented. You lifted up your left hand, the diamond shining in the sunlight. A soft ‘oh’ fell from his lips. Bucky pushed you behind him as he walked forward. Riley took a cautious step backward. “Listen, man, it’s only a misunderstanding.” He squeaked, holding his hands up.

Bucky snarled at him and turned back to you, quickly pulling you away without another word. You didn’t dare look back at Riley, no matter how bad you felt. He was really nice and welcomed you into the art class with a warm gesture. But you never thought he’d be your secret admirer.

You never wore your ring to art class after the first day, you almost had it snagged off by your smock. Bucky was silent most of the way home and you weren’t sure what to say. He left your side as soon as you stepped into the door, and went straight to the bedroom.

You followed after him, watching him closely. Bucky didn’t look angry anymore. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes held a sadness you’ve never seen before.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly as you moved to stand in front of Bucky. His head was hanging low and he shook it, his hair framing his face under his cap. You lifted his chin up with your finger and looked into his eyes. “Talk to me, baby.” You whispered, noticing his blue eyes had grown a light shade of grey.

Bucky sighed and moved his hands to your waist, his thumbs digging into your skin. “It’s just-the thought of someone else feeling how I feel about you-it scares me.” Bucky mumbled, leaning into your hand on his cheek. You smiled gently and took off his cap, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Hey, come on, I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere.” You said, pressing more kisses to his face.

After a few more, Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle. He pulled you onto him and fell onto his back on the mattress as you straddled him. You looked down at Bucky, letting your noses graze one another’s in an eskimo kiss. “You know I love you, James.” You said, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. “Even when you’re jealous.” You added with a sly smirk.

Bucky pulled you closer, his metal hand keeping you in place. “I love you, too. Wait- no, I am not jealous.” He deadpanned, a hint of truth behind his words. You giggled and kissed his lips. You pulled away too soon for his liking and he groaned, rubbing his hands along your lower back. “You are.” You said, kissing his lips again.

“Am not.” Kiss. “Are too.” Kiss. “Am not.” Kiss. “Fuck, can you blame me?” Bucky asked as he rolled on top of you, moving his hands underneath your shirt. You smiled and let out a breathy giggle. “Just kiss me.” You whispered, pulling him down by his collar. “Gladly.” He mumbled against your lips.

Note: yikes, I hope this doesn’t suck! .c

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amour

pairing: jeff atkins / reader

genre: smut (lol someone needs to tape my hands in prayer form bc I NEED IT)

description: jeff wins the championship game and as the great girlfriend that u are… u know..u do some cool tricks…HAHAHAHA

Keep reading

Sword Fighting for Fic Writers: Chapter 12

You can follow the tag #Swords for Fics if you want to keep up without following me :)

Available Chapters:
1: Dumb Ways to Die  2.May Your Blade Be True! 3.On Your Guard!
4. Making the Cut 5.Stick ‘em With the Pointy End 6. It’s Like a Dance
7. The Measure of A Man 8.A Crossing of Blades 9.Like Chess, but with Knives
An Interlude About Story Telling
10. You Can Barely Lift Your Sword 11.Buckle Some Swash 12.Dual Wielding
13.Everything is a Weapon 14.Got Your Sword!

Dual Wielding
Fighting with Two Swords or an Offhand Dagger

Fighting with a dagger in the offhand instead of a shield was a common practice. A long dagger made an excellent tool for catching the opponent’s weapon while attacking with your own. While attacks were made with the dagger, it’s greatest benefit was as a defensive tool.

Here the dagger is being used to restrain the attacker’s weapon (note: The big guy’s sword is pointed away from the dagger guy. Again, the problem with flat images and flat swords is swords tend to disappear in perspective. My apologies for the unclear drawing.) The dagger user is now free to attack with their sword in their next action.

I have more experience with double swords so we’ll be talking mostly about that now. We both know that’s why you’re reading this chapter anyways.

Two Swords are used like off-sync partners, with one movement slightly behind the other while they’re in motion. One might temporarily stay still to cover a line while the other attacks, but you’re not going to be fighting two battles at once except for in exaggerated cartoon circumstances. We’ll talk about fighting multiple opponents in “I’ll Take You All On” (chapter coming soon)

As an example, if two downward cutting attacks are being used, what this off sync movement achieves is that as the first sword finishes it’s blow, it deals with the opponent’s weapon. The second sword is a split second behind the first, and now has a clear path to finish it’s blow. The first sword continues to restrain the opponent’s weapon.

In one pattern of attack, the lower sword begins with a thrust, forcing a defence from the opponent then the upper sword begins it’s preparation. The lower sword then follows and does it’s own cut ending as the new top sword. Beginning with the thrust provokes a reaction from the defender and buys time for the first sword to swing back in preparation while the attacker remains covered.

When defending with two swords you can use any of your usual defences as outlined in “A Crossing of Blades” but you need to be careful that you’re not criss crossing your arms and getting tangled up. That’s another reason for the off sync movements. If they follow their patterns and both do the same action, the arms will stay untangled.

Crossing the blades to collect the attacker’s sword is one of the coolest looking defences you can do with two weapons. This one also works well with a dagger in the offhand.


Things get more complicated when both opponents are dual wielding. Now each opponent can restrain with one sword and attack with the other. Even so, they’ll still be following those same slightly out of sync patterns. 

It might feel like we can do two things at once, but really we’re just switching quickly between two tasks. It’s better to have two swords working towards one goal then trying to have them both achieve two different things.

Often in one action you’ll still be catching both of your opponent’s swords in the defence.

I’m not feeling ambitious enough to try breaking down two dual wielding fighters anymore than that though, so we’ll leave off here. In the next chapter we’ll look into things you can do with a free hand that’s not holding anything.

8

Mle 1886 M93 Lebel rifle

Designed by a French commission following general Boulanger’s demands in 1885, based on the previous Gras-Kropatschek rifles. Adopted c.1886, manufactured starting c.1887 by all major French national factories.
8x50mmR Lebel 8-round tubular magazine +1 chambered +1 in the lift, bolt action repeater.

France’s military rifle for a good 60 years, named after colonel Nicolas Lebel who submitted the jacketed bullet idea, the Mle1886 rifle was the first smokeless powder rifle in full military service, one of the first repeating rifles in full military service and later the first one to use spitzer bullets.

Character Analysis: Shiro

[ Lance ] [ Hunk ] [ Pidge ] [ Keith ] [ Allura ] [ Coran ]

Just for entertaining meta-ish purposes I’m going to do these in the order that the characters are introduced in the show. So that means we’re starting off with Fearless Space Leader. 

Keep reading

Doubt (reader x Bucky Drabble)

Characters: reader x Bucky, Natasha

Summary: A competition about who loves the other more reveals a deeper, sadder truth. 

Warnings: some fluff, then the angst. Sorry. 

Word Count: 1082

A/N: I don’t know where this came from but my brain wanted some late-night angst, so here you go. Perhaps I shouldn’t dwell on past relationships and their pitfalls late at night. Hm…
__________________________________________________________

Originally posted by gliceria

Chime.

You paused for a moment, tangled in an impossible dress that Natasha insisted you try on. Where the hell were the sleeves in this thing?!? Defeated, you decided to pull the dress off over your head and reassess the sleeves/neck hole/straps situation. Only Nat would find interest in such a complicated article of clothing.

Chime.

Freed from the cloth, you smoothed down your hair and took another look at the dress.

Chime.

“If you don’t answer that damn phone, I’m gonna smash it,” the redhead bellowed from the changing room next door.

Keep reading

2

Winchester M1897 trench shotgun

Manufactured by Winchester Repeating Arms Co. based on John Browning’s design c.1917-45, this commercial gun was made in 1920 - serial number E683081.
12 gauge, 5+1 shells of nine .33 caliber pellets in a tubular magazine, 20″ long barrel, pump-action repeater with an external hammer and no trigger disconnector, heat shield and bayonet lug for the standard military issue M1917 rifle bayonet.

The old trench broom, in near-mint condition.

anonymous asked:

Jason: "Why couldn't Wonder Woman have adopted me instead?"

HI I WROTE A THING

Cor Et Cerebrum universe bc why not and also I don’t have to do a ton of legwork to get Bruce and Jason to talk.

Gen!Fic
Fluffish
Some language

Jason Todd has been moping around the manor for five weeks when Bruce has finally, finally had enough. He likes having him there, he really does, and most of the time it works out just fine.

Except Jason has picked up the awful, grating habit of muttering, “Why couldn’t Wonder Woman have adopted me instead?” every single time he’s even mildly annoyed. In his defense, Bruce visibly flinched the first time Jason said it, half-joking, and he’s been throwing it around since then probably in hopes of getting a similar reaction which Bruce will not give him the satisfaction of seeing.

Jason is pretty fond of his new catchphrase and the week that Bruce reaches his limit is the same week Jason makes sure he overhears it while Jason is talking to Alfred, Damian, Tim, Dev, and Dick, in that order. The final straw is when he’s sitting on the floor in the study while Bruce works at the desk, and Jason puts his book down to ruffle Titus’ ears and without provocation says it to the dog.

“You’re a good boy,” he says to the drooling face, the dog’s whole body shaking in excitement. “I never had a dog. Why couldn’t Wonder Woman have adopted me instead? She’d let me have a dog.”

Bruce slams the folder in front of him shut and Jason waits for the shout or the tense reassurance that Jason could, in fact, procure a dog if he so desired.

But instead Bruce picks up his cell phone.

“Diana,” he says after a moment. “I have a problem.”

Jason stops petting Titus to listen and Bruce stands and leaves the room.

“Get a bag,” Bruce says stiffly when he returns, Jason still sitting and too shell-shocked to move. “Now.”

And if Bruce is going to take it to the next level, Jason is going to match him step for effing step. He throws stuff in a duffel upstairs and stomps back down toward the front, where he finds Bruce waiting.

“Hurry up,” Bruce says. “She’ll be here soon.”

Jason follows him to the end of the lane where Bruce takes the duffel bag and motions for him to sit down on it. Bewildered, amused, angry, and still silent, Jason complies.

Bruce pulls something out of his pocket and then crouches and safety pins a piece of paper to Jason’s shirt.

“Ow,” Jason mutters, even though the pin didn’t actually prick him.

“Sorry,” Bruce says, and Jason feels a touch of guilt but doesn’t fess up. “We’ll miss you. Have fun.”

And then Bruce leaves.

A few minutes later, a car turns into the drive and stops. The window rolls down and Dev looks at him. Tim is in the passenger seat on the far side, with wide eyes, sipping something orange through a plastic straw.

“Mate,” Dev says, leaning out the window to look around a bit.

“Yep,” Jason says.

The note on his chest says UNACCOMPANIED MINOR. GUARDIAN: DIANA PRINCE.

Jason isn’t a minor but he’ll let this detail slide for now.

“I’m calling his bluff,” Jason says, and Tim snorts.

“Bloody hell,” Dev grumbles and rolls up the window and drives toward the manor.

Another few minutes go by, slow in the early fall afternoon, and then there’s a soft whoosh and Wonder Woman lands on her booted feet in front of him. For all his bravado, he hasn’t actually spent all that much time in front of her, and if he’s honest, she still intimidates him far more than Clark ever does. He forces himself to give her what he hopes is a cheeky grin.

“Hiya,” he says. “Guess you’re the new mom.”

“Your father conveyed such wishes,” she replies solemnly.

She looks up and Jason turns at the sound of footsteps approaching across the fine gravel. It’s Bruce again, this time with a mug in his hand. He raises it to Diana slightly in greeting.

“He is certain?” Diana asks and Jason is starting to feel a little nervous. She sounds so serious.

“Ask him,” Bruce says, with a shrug. He stops and puts one hand in his pocket while he sips the coffee. “He’s been talking about it for months.”

“Are you certain?” Diana asks Jason and Jason is still unwilling to back down. At some point, one of them has to break and either admit it’s a huge farce or beg him to change his mind.

“Yep,” Jason says. “So, whaddaya say we get the frick outta here?”

“I have always wanted a son,” she says, now beaming. “I always thought it unlikely to find one that agreed to the terms of Themyscira.”

“You’ve found him,” Jason says, giving Bruce a slightly alarmed look. He was not made aware of terms.

“Do not trouble yourself,” Diana says, seeing his expression. “Castration is a brave but noble undertaking to dwell among my women. And we are not barbarians. You will be permitted to be sedated for the procedure if you desire it. There is no shame.”

Jason feels the blood rush to his cheeks and then immediately drain from his head.

“The–” is all he gets out. The world around him has gone fuzzy, wrapped in gauze and protected from sound.

He does not hear or see Bruce sputter into his coffee.

But he does turn to look at Bruce after and mistakes the attempt at Bruce’s self-recovery for a dark scowl.

So, Jason figures he brought this on himself.

“Shall we go?” Diana asks.

“I…” Jason looks dumbly down at the note on his chest and tears it off with a frown. “I think I’ll stay,” he says faintly.

“That is unfortunate but understandable. I have reason to believe your current family holds great affection for you,” Diana says kindly.

“Sorry to waste your time,” Bruce says, as Jason climbs to his feet and says a hasty goodbye. The boy goes up into the manor and disappears inside.

“How did I do?” Diana asks, smiling at Bruce.

“Fine,” he says, scant on praise as usual. “The castration bit was a little over the top, don’t you think?”

“It was very effective,” Diana retorts. And Bruce can’t argue with that.

“Thanks again,” Bruce says. “I’m going to go do damage control.”

“It was my pleasure,” Diana says before flying away. Bruce watches her go and then turns back to the house. When he goes inside, Jason is sitting on the steps in the foyer with a defiant glare.

“I wish the Kents had adopted me,” he snaps before Bruce can speak. “They’d never do something like this.”

Bruce opens his mouth and for a long moment, is frozen, but then he laughs and holds out an arm. Jason is still sulking, pretty convincingly for someone wearing combat boots and almost as tall as Bruce.

He steps right into the hug with his arms stiff at his sides and his chin dipped down. Bruce squeezes him, an arm firm around Jason’s shoulders.

“You didn’t really think I’d let her take you, did you?” he asks.

Jason grumbles something indistinct and shakes his head.

“You know she was joking, right?”

“Fuck me,” Jason mutters in disgust and relief at once. “I’m never gonna be able to even look at her again.”

“Give it a few months,” Bruce says. “You’ll survive. And maybe stop throwing your dad out with the bathwater every time I turn around.”

“Are you calling yourself a baby?” Jason asks without looking up, but Bruce can hear the grin in Jason’s voice.

“Maybe. Maybe I’m sensitive.”

Jason barks a laugh against Bruce’s shoulder and steps back.

“Deal,” he says.

“Crap,” Tim says from the top of the stairs. They both look up to where Tim and Damian both have armfuls of books and action figures from Jason’s room.

“Put those back,” Jason orders sharply, already hurrying toward the stairs. “Now, you miscreants.”

“Why did you permit a return policy, Father?” Damian asks, stepping back and tightening his grip. Tim has already fled and abandoned him there. Damian wastes no more time in following and Jason’s heavy boots sound out as he storms down the hall. There are outraged shouts and a scream a moment later.

“Change of heart, sir?” Alfred asks calmly, walking by with a tray of tea things.

“Something like that,” Bruce says, still looking up the stairs and trying to decide if it’s worth intervening. There’s another yell and he decides they’ll come for help if they need it.

Probably.

Maybe.

There’s a loud crash.

He shakes his head and goes upstairs.

“I knew she wasn’t serious,” he mutters to himself when there’s another crash. “Why didn’t I go with her?”

Trust Me - Smut

Originally posted by el-chico-depresivo-y-suicida

Author: @dumbass-stilinski
Rating: NSFW 18+
Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Reader
Words: 3,155
AN: Okay so I had this idea and it ran away from me and then this happened and it dirty as hell but then it got sappy and I’m so sorry? Thanks to @writing-obrien @ninja-stiles and @celestial-writing for looking at it for me and telling me it doesn’t suck. Love y’all.

Listen to THIS SONG.

Also, in case you don’t know who Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm are here is a picture. They’re cute as fuck.


After the Nogitsune, Stiles was different. To the people who didn’t know him well, he was the same as ever; goofy, sarcastic and loyal to a fault. But the rest of the pack knew better. He was tired, sometimes listless, more cynical than usual. You were feeling pretty lost, not sure what you could do to help him.

You spent your time with him, most of it just sitting quietly, a movie playing on the TV, but neither of you really watching it. Stiles seemed to be lost in his own head, and you were beginning to worry.

You’d been in love with him as long as you could remember, but your feelings for him aside, he was your best friend and it hurt to see him struggling with his thoughts and the things the Nogitsune did while possessing his body. All the lost lives he felt responsible for taking ate at him, but Allison’s death was what hurt him the most.

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5

Winchester Third Model M1873 Deluxe rifle

Manufactured by Winchester repeating Arms c.1873-1919, this particular one c.1886.
.38-40 Winchester 15-round tubular magazine, lever action repeater, folding buckhorn rear sights, blued 24″ octagonal barrel, case hardened receiver and fittings.

The famous “gun that won the west” in its fanciest attire. If looks could kill it would be superfluous because it’s a fucking gun already.

B.A.P  Collectible Figures

Congratulations! You are now the proud owner a B.A.P figure! Please refer to this handy instruction manual for care. And don’t forget to save up purchase points to get a matching Matoki mascot accessory for your B.A.P figure!

Yongguk – Model # 3311990

Accessories included: ramen, tigger toy

One of the more low maintenance figures, your new Yongguk will keep to himself most of the time. This is his normal. However if he seems especially morose your unit has slipped into brooding mode and can only be returned to original factory settings when paired or grouped with the other figures in the line. When sad or nervous use the included tigger, take him to a museum, or engage in a discussion on world events to distract him. If your Yongguk disappears for a short time don’t worry, he is probably acquiring another tattoo or doing volunteer work. This model has a hidden ‘mentor’ feature that unlocks when paired with the Zelo unit.

Himchan – Model # 4191990  New Limited Edition with Pink Hair!

Accessories included: coffee, grilled meat

Your Himchan unit may be boisterous on occasion, but usually only when paired with the later models of the line. His self-esteem switch is touchy and can flip from confident to insecure quite easily. Tape may be required. To ensure this model keeps his pink hair as long as possible you must only wash with cold water. Your Himchan unit will be cranky about this but he’ll forgive you if you tell him he’s handsome. This unit has some boundary issues so it won’t be uncommon to see him with accessories from the other figures or even resting with them in the dormitory (sold separately).

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Unlucky Circumstance

It’s certainly a case of Murphy’s Law. It’s certainly and expectedly his bad luck that had caused this.

Or rather he’d blame this entirely on that if Ladybug was anywhere in sight. Beyond all the chaos of screaming teenagers and a city reduced to canoodling, love struck citizens, there’s no sight of red and black.

There’d hardly been enough time to transform before the akuma, aptly named Lovestruck, had broken through the school’s decidedly poor security system. Chat Noir was left with little recourse but to fend him off and corral as many of his unaffected classmates as he could into a safe space.

He leaves Kim behind. It’s too late for the boy. He’s already sobbing into his hands and crying about his one sided love for Alix.

(She’s torn between amusement and something bordering on embarrassment as she runs out the door.)

“Hey, Lovestruck! Your type of love isn’t real! We don’t want it!” Someone shouts behind the screaming/swooning mass of students.

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7

Winchester M1887 display model shotgun

Designed by John M. Browning, manufactured by Winchester Repeating Arms c.1888 and factory engraved c.1888 and 1901 - serial number 6728.
12 gauge five-round tubular magazine, lever action repeating shotgun, 76cm long damascus steel barrel, piano polish, extensive engravings.

One of only five display M1887 shotguns, which makes it extremely rare on top of being gorgeous.

Worth The Wait

Rating: T

Summary: The war is over. Gray is on his bed, and Juvia is in his bathroom. Will she ever come out? This is a terrible description. Gray x Juvia. Gruvia. 

Read on FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12429437/1/Worth-The-Wait

A/N: For Gruvia Week. This isn’t technically based on any prompt, because I’m a rebel, or I should say, because I’ve had this headcanon for a while, and I’m too lazy to try and make it fit a specific prompt, but I guess passion may fit the best, so enjoy lol. ^__^

A couple of weeks had gone by since the great war against Zeref’s army and Acnologia had ended. Things were slowly but surely falling back into place. Magnolia and several of the neighboring towns, which had suffered the greatest damage from the battles fought on their grounds, were being rebuilt stone by stone and brick by brick.

Many of the mage guilds had pitched in with the repairs, including the mages from areas thankfully untouched by the terrors of battle. Gray supposed the hard work was made quite a bit easier by the fact that they were all being treated like heroes by the locals. It was a desperate battle among mages, dragon slayers, demons, demon slayers, and even dragons, but it was the regular townspeople that usually paid the highest prices during times of war. Homes were lost, families separated, towns decimated, and casualties numbered in the thousands. And those elements were just the most visible consequences currently being dealt with. However, the emotional and mental trauma was yet another enemy left behind for those survivors to keep on fighting even when the magical threats had ceased to be.

That was war, and that was what Gray Fullbuster himself had only nearly just survived. In fact, technically, he hadn’t survived at all. He had died. He knew he had, because he had done it to himself. When he had forced that ice blade through his abdomen, the point of the sword feeling adversely hot as it pierced his body, he was sure that those were to be his final moments on Earthland. And yet, here he was two weeks later, his house in mid-repair and expansion, while the source of his survival had currently, and seemingly made camp in his bathroom.

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