tis blown

A short thingy I had to get out of my head. Not angsty despite that opening. AO3 link.

Jason rolled the tiny smoke bombs. They were nearly silent on the filthy corporate berber of the abandoned office building. They deployed at the feet of the nearest two kidnappers, the door guards.

He sprinted past them to take out the one holding the AR-15 first. Disarmed and KO-ed in one smooth, brutal movement as Jason spun the rifle into the outstretched arm-and-Colt-1911 of the next nearest man, ignoring the pistol as it fired close to him. He grabbed this one and broke his gun arm, tossing him bodily into the one of the door guards as he tried to rush him.

Pulled his own pistol and shot the door guard that had been moving toward the figure hanging from the ceiling before he could put a gun to the hostage’s head. Managed to shoot Mr. Colt 1911 as he pulled a second gun with his unbroken arm, before dodging the sloppy tackle of the last door guard, who had recovered.

Mad now. Seeing red as he ignored the gun in his hand in favor of kneeing Door Guard a few rapid times in the belly before letting him go so he could savagely pull the man’s face down onto his own heavily padded kneecap and let him fall limp to the floor. He kicked and threw weapons out of reach of the ones who might live before holstering his own gun and striding to the suspended figure just as it dropped heavily to the floor.

“Hey, old man,” Jason wasn’t even out of breath as he moved quickly to Bruce’s side, “Are you hurt?”

“No, Jay,” Bruce said softly from where he lay on his side. He was half-smiling in a way that made Jason feel both warm and unsettled. He helped Bruce sit up. Took stock of the three-piece, probably unsalvageable. Just because Bruce Wayne had to be kidnap-able didn’t mean Bruce made it easy. Bruising alongside his mouth where he’d been punched and a swollen left eye. Raw around the wrists where he’d been tied. Pupils, wide-blown and glassy looking. Explained what had taken him so long to escape.

“I’ve got him,” Jason spoke into the comm, “Kidnappers down for the count. They drugged him – he’s movin’ slow.”

“Be careful. You remember what happened the last time he got tranqed,” Dick warned. Drugs rarely had their intended effects on Bruce anymore.

“Jay,” Bruce said groggily, grabbing Jason’s chin with hands that hadn’t quite gotten their circulation back. He was smushing Jason’s mouth into a silly shape, but Jason played along. He wasn’t about to get anything broken like that poor Watchtower med tech.

“Yesh?” he answered, hamming it up and waggling his eyebrows a bit. Like he hadn’t just (probably) killed several men.

“Jason,” was all Bruce said, frowning a little now in concentration as he tried to focus on Jason’s face.

Jason pulled his chin out of Bruce’s grip, which was tightening.

“How’s about we stand up and move on outta here, B?” Jason gently slung Bruce’s arm over his shoulders and pressed Bruce into a standing position. Bruce slumped against him drunkenly.

Jason steered them around the debris of broken kidnappers and bedraggled office furniture.

“Always loved watching you fight, Jay,” Bruce said a little dreamily as they moved through the buildings empty halls.

“Yeah?” Jason tipped his head forward to see Bruce’s face. He had that weird smile again.

“Dick. Fighting is another type of performance for Dick. Until his back is against the wall. Always making things…elegant,” he slurred, “or funny.” He chuckled a little at some memory.

“And Tim. Tim is fast. Makes up for that lack of reach with everything he’s got. Gets there ahead of everyone. Two steps ahead.”

“Thought we were talking about me here,” Jason muttered, taking Bruce through some old swing doors to another corridor.

“Damian’s not old enough. Hasn’t settled into one style. Sneaky though.”

“Well, yeah,” Jason agreed, voice droll.

“And Cassandra-”

“-is perfect.” they finished together.

Finally hitting fresh air they walked slowly out the bay doors at the back of the huge office complex, toward the car Jason had parked a quarter mile down the road, out of sight. Bruce was still leaning heavily on Jason, trying not to let his feet drag. Not quite succeeding.

“And what am I, old man?”

Bruce smiled crookedly at him with slightly bloodied teeth.

“A hammer.” He let the pronouncement fall heavy. “You come down on them like the hammer of God. Focused.” His mouth stretched a little wider in something that was not quite a smile.


Grinning, Jason squeezed a little with the arm that was supporting Bruce. Together they made their way across the weed-strewn parking lot.

Can’t Lose You

Request: “Can you write an angst one shot where Bucky has a crush on reader and they go on a first date and it goes badly? with a happy ending please. thank you!”

Warnings: Violence, Swearing

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Thanks to the anon who requested. Sorry I haven’t written anything in a while. Send me requests here.


Originally posted by insanityofthemoon

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Her Christmas

Since it’s still Christmas somewhere….:D

Happy Holidays to all of my beautiful followers. Mistakes all mine. Excessive fluff alert.

“They’re still at it.”

Robin’s words are whispered so as to not wake the slumbering red-head snuggled into one side and the -she’s- finally-asleep infant now snuggled into her mother’s chest on the other side of the couch.

“I know,” Regina breathes, stroking the sparse, dark strands on the baby’s head. “That art kit was an inspired idea.”

“I wonder what they’re creating over there?” Robin questions. “They’ve been at it for an hour at least.”

Henry and Roland sit at the table, hovering over the surface, completely absorbed in paints and colored pencils as they discuss something concerning what looks to be a shared work of art.

“Who knows? When it comes to those two, the sky’s the limit.”

Robin chuckles softly as Merida snuggles into him, burying her face into his chest another measure, prompting him to kiss the top of her head and adjust the blanket around her.

“I’m glad her fever finally broke last night,” he continues. “Rotten luck catching the flu just before Christmas.” He touches her forehead, reassuring himself that she still feels cool to the touch as he continues rubbing her back through the blanket.

“I know,” Regina returns. “Let’s just hope it’s made its final round in this household.”

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The 12 Days of Christmas: Star Wars Rebels Style

On the twelfth day of Christmas, the Rebellion gave to me:

Twelve crying fits

Eleven incompetent troopers

Ten collected helmets

Nine meilooruns

Eight sets of coordinates

Seven sprayed paintings

Six fighting Spectres

Five blown up TIEs

Four training cadets

Three Inquisitors

Two fledgling Jedi

And a grumpy old C1-10P

If someone asks me to make a video of me singing this, I will. Merry Christmas, everyone!! :)