#under armor jersey

[funandfitness]

Universal Armor: Unleashing Limitless Protection

Universal Armor: Unparalleled Protection, Infinite Versatility. Embrace invincibility with the revolutionary Universal Armor, a marvel of cutting-edge technology and masterful engineering. This armor transcends all limitations, seamlessly adapting to any environment or threat. Crafted from an amalgamation of advanced alloys and nanotechnology, it grants impenetrable defense against even the most formidable adversaries. Lightweight and agile, it ensures fluid movement without compromising strength. The epitome of adaptability, it effortlessly shifts to suit any combat style or mission requirement. Whether facing extraterrestrial dangers or terrestrial foes, Universal Armor stands as the ultimate safeguard, bestowing its wearer with unwavering supremacy.

[orchidsangel]

PERFECT DUET (JASON TODD)

notes/cw ~ GN!reader, angst !!!, childhood friends to lovers set up, (1.7k wc)

You remember the day Red Hood came rolling into town, news stations spoke of a masked man, slinging guns and antagonizing Batman while simultaneously lowering Gotham City’s crime rates. He was a force to be reckoned with, his brutality leaving criminals and civilians both cowering in fear day in and day out. Men and women alike debated whether or not petty crimes were worth committing if it meant a potential run-in with Red; but soon enough, the city of Gotham, New Jersey, would realize that he didn’t waste his time with small-time shoplifters and carjackers. No, he had an agenda. An agenda that included the crime lords of Gotham and you.

Even though you had never and would never commit a crime, you constantly felt like you were being watched as if you were on a most wanted list. Months, you spent looking over your shoulder, wondering if you might have caught the eye of a crazy person, wondering if one day you’d come home to find security cameras installed in places where privacy was sacred. To you, this never coincided with the Red Hood's arrival in Gotham; and yet you did come home one day, but not to cameras, to Jason. Red helmet in hand, with a singular flower, and an apology on the tip of his tongue.

Yeah, he looked different. He was bigger, taller, and more muscular than when you’d last seen him. His face had matured, baby fat you used to pinch, replaced with hollow cheeks and a sharp jawline. He looked different, but you could tell without a doubt that it was him. The color of his eyes, albeit a little more green than you remembered, had the familiarity of a childhood stuffed animal; of an object that had meant something to you in a past life. You knew it was him, and yet he had died, and a part of you died with him. You had seen his cold, lifeless body in that velvet-lined coffin, traces of the boy you once loved under thick layers of waxy funeral makeup. He had died, and yet here he was, in front of you and holding a flower in place of an olive branch.

The following days felt like months, a reminder of the agonizingly slow aftermath of his death. You had learned throughout life how to compose yourself when your emotions were starting to get the best of you. This time was no different. Instead of a normal reaction like an onslaught of questions spilling from your mouth, breaking down into tears on the floor of your apartment, or even an awkward hug; you had given him a little more than a once over—just enough to take in his appearance—and then locked yourself in your room for the rest of the night. You could feel Jason's eyes burning a hole through the door, could swear he was on the other side watching and waiting for you to come back, to jump into his arms like you used to under the guise of friendship. But when you woke up the next morning he was gone, no trace of him being there to begin with, and you almost thought you had dreamed it. When you finally stepped outside the next morning, for the first time in ages, you didn’t feel you were being watched, and you knew then that it wasn’t a crazy person whose interest you’d piqued, it was Jason's.

Months passed before you saw him again. The disassociation had been getting worse by the minute since that night. You’d been living life on autopilot, a ghost of the person you’d grown into. Layers of armor built up after the night Alfred rang your home phone, gone. Leaving you raw and exposed to memories you’d thought better left in the past. You never wanted to forget him, but the agony that was growing without him by your side left your brain choosing self-preservation over anything else. You had chosen it then, on the day before junior year when you locked away every physical memento you had of him in a box and put it in the attic of your childhood home, and you’d chosen it again now when you pushed the recent events of his reentry into your life, to the back of your mind.

An unpredicted rainstorm vetoed your decision, leaving you stuck in some cafe in the diamond district. The combined smell of imported beans and high-end perfumes left you sick to your stomach; but not nearly as sick as when you locked eyes with Jason, sitting in the corner of the establishment, book in hand, but clearly not reading. You had been acutely aware of his presence the entire time; you couldn’t not be. It made the room spin, knowing what you knew about him in such a public place. It made you queasy and faint, like the entire world would soon turn black and you’d end up on the cold tiled floor waiting for someone to hold coffee beans under your nose in an attempt to wake you up. You almost made a run for it out the door; but the heavy sheets of water sliding down the glass windows, blurred the outside world into more of a watercolor painting than your reality, and you deluded yourself into thinking none of it was real, and anything said inside those four walls would cease to exist when the rain stopped.

A few steps taken towards him and you were ready to turn back around, but the clarity you felt, the fog that had incapacitated your brain for so long, was gone in that moment; and you knew if you stepped out into that rain, it would come right back. You remember his face when you sat down across from him, even after your moment of rejection, he still looked at you so fondly. “I always knew I’d see you again.” He had said with so much certainty. And you would come to find that all of the tears for him that you had held in would be shed anyway in the coming years.

Picking up where you left off proved to be impossible, and resuming a years-old friendship with a years-long break wasn’t something either of you could do. Not with both of your hearts tucked away with the other for so long. Not when you had spent years stealing glances at him in class when you were supposed to be working on labs and taking pencils from him from the opposite end to avoid touching his hand in fear that he’d feel the heat radiating off of you. Not when you were green with envy when he got his first girlfriend and rearranged his schedule to spend more time with her, leaving you feeling hopeless for a couple of months. Not when you practically jumped for joy when he came to you mopey and sad because she’d broken up with him to get with a star athlete, not knowing he was jumping from buildings and doing backflips in his spare time. Not when you’d taken him down to the pier, treating him to funnel cake and cotton candy with babysitting money you’d been saving up for a rainy day. And not when the two of you sat at the top of the Ferris wheel, feet dangling over Gotham and wind blowing in your face. His lovelorn eyes, bluer back then, peered over the bar that kept you from falling. He sat back with a sigh, his boyish features had sorrow written all over them. “I’d never hurt you like that.” is what you wanted to say that night, but instead all you could manage was an, “I’m sorry.” followed by, “Do you want to come over for dinner?” 

Not when a month later, your mom shook you awake in the middle of the night, calling your name with the same tone of voice she saved for when a close relative passed. Vision blurred and heartbeat quickening, “Is grandma okay?” you asked, rubbing sleep out of your bleary eyes. Pale, that's what her face was when she said, “No- yes. Grandma's fine.” she pursed her lips, trying to keep her composure but the lack of color in her complexion told you something bad had happened. “It’s…” You were alert by then, waiting patiently to hear whose funeral you’d be attending soon. “It’s Jason.” 

Lovesick. Sick with love. Sick with something. Whatever it was, it kept you from moving past the depression stage of grief for ages. Denial, anger, bargaining, they all came and went rather quickly; but the depression never left, not even when you had seemingly slipped into the acceptance stage. Your family watched you go back to your normal routines, continuing life the way it had been before. You got up in the morning, went to school, and came home exactly as you’d done when he was still alive. Of course, they didn’t see how you struggled to breathe when you saw his seat empty in homeroom, they didn’t see the way people stared at you walking the hallways alone for the first time in years, the boy typically beside you, now six feet under. They didn’t see how you cried yourself to sleep on his birthday that year, and how you subsequently cried yourself to sleep every year after that. No, they didn’t see any of it, and truthfully, they didn’t want to; you couldn’t blame them, not even you did. 

Lovesick. Sick with love. Sick with something. Sick with, “how long were you dead?” 

“Six months.”

Six years of grief for only six months of death. If you were still fifteen you would’ve jumped for joy, thrown a party, and invited your friends and families. You would’ve laughed yourself silly at how absurd it was that he was back with you so soon, how everything was normal again, and how this would just be a funny story you’d tell as an adult. In your early 20’s it was no longer so soon, it was no longer something to throw a party over, you wouldn’t invite friends or family, you wouldn’t even know how to explain any of it to them, and you certainly wouldn’t be laughing about it. All you could do was nod silently, taking the occasional sip from the cup of chamomile tea in your hands, trying your best to let him explain before anger got the best of you.

ro's first time writing angst, how do we feel ?? wrote this in the midst of a BAD case of writers block but fuck it we ball yk, inspired by perfect duet by ed sheeran and beyoncé but if you listen to it and wonder where the happy lovey dovey stuff is plz know i intend to write a pt 2 (key word, intend. i'm not great on follow ups), also if someone wants to give me a lesson a grammar and punctuation plz do bc it's kicking my ass !!

[brainddeadd]

Halloween Party

The New Jersey Devils' Halloween party was destined to be anything but normal. You knew that from the moment you walked into the venue—a rented-out lounge decked with fake cobwebs, jack-o-lanterns, and strobe lights—only to be tackled by a very enthusiastic Jack Hughes in full Spider-Man gear.

“Y/N!” Jack yells, wrapping you in a bear hug and lifting you off the ground. “You made it!”

“Put me down, Spidey,” you laugh, squirming in his grip.

Jack grins under his mask but finally sets you down, brushing invisible dust off your costume. “What even are you supposed to be?” he asks, squinting at your outfit.

“I’m a vampire,” you say, flashing the plastic fangs you barely managed to keep in.

“Cute.” Jack winks, slinging an arm around your shoulder just as Nico Hischier—dressed as a very convincing pirate—walks up, giving both of you a fond, exasperated look.

The lounge is packed with players, staff, and their partners—everyone dressed to the nines in goofy, spooky, or downright ridiculous costumes. Luke Hughes stands by the snack table, inspecting a bowl of candy with the kind of concentration you usually only see him use on the ice. He’s rocking a cowboy hat, boots, and a vest that’s way too small for his frame.

Dawson Mercer, meanwhile, has gone all-in with a werewolf costume, complete with fluffy ears and a tail that keeps smacking people as he walks by.

“I swear to God, Dawson,” you mutter, swatting at the tail when it brushes your arm again. “Control that thing.”

“It has a mind of its own!” Dawson defends himself with a mischievous grin.

As the night progresses, the chaos only multiplies.

Nico keeps trying to convince everyone to join him for a game of beer pong, insisting that pirates have an unfair advantage because they’re “naturally gifted at throwing things.” You’re not entirely sure that’s historically accurate, but no one argues with him.

Jack somehow convinces half the team to start a limbo competition—using a hockey stick, of course. Luke crushes it, his height somehow not being a disadvantage for once, though he nearly trips over his boots at the end.

Dawson, in typical Dawson fashion, sneaks up behind you at one point with a fake severed hand, pressing it to your shoulder.

You jump and swat him again. “You’re asking for a punch, Mercer.”

“Worth it,” he laughs, scampering off before you can retaliate.

The highlight of the night is, without a doubt, the costume contest.

You watch as Nico steps onto the makeshift stage, adjusting his pirate hat dramatically. “Arr, mateys,” he says, clearly enjoying himself way too much. “Who dares challenge the captain?”

Jack boos from the crowd. “Your hat’s crooked, Captain Fraud!”

“At least I didn’t dress as Spider-Man for the third year in a row!” Nico fires back, making everyone roar with laughter.

Luke takes the stage next, tipping his cowboy hat. He pulls out a toy gun from his holster and blows on the barrel dramatically, earning a mix of cheers and teasing catcalls from the crowd.

When it’s your turn, the boys start cheering before you even reach the stage.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” Jack chants, getting the whole room to join in.

You roll your eyes but strike a dramatic vampire pose, hissing playfully at the crowd. Nico, Jack, Luke, and Dawson lose it, clapping like you’ve just scored the winning goal in a playoff game.

“Best costume ever,” Dawson declares loudly, like a proud big brother.

After the contest wraps up (Nico wins because, as Jack puts it, “the pirate hat has plot armor”), the team settles into smaller groups, chatting and dancing to the Halloween playlist someone threw together.

Jack stays glued to your side for most of the night, making sure no one gives you too much grief—though he’s not above throwing in a little teasing himself. “You’re lucky you have us,” he jokes. “Otherwise, these guys would eat you alive.”

Nico walks by, overhearing. “We’re protecting you from them,” he says, tilting his head toward the crowd of rowdy teammates. “Not the other way around.”

You laugh, but you know it’s true. These boys are chaos incarnate, but they’re also fiercely protective. And if that means surviving a Halloween party filled with ridiculous costumes, bad jokes, and limbo competitions—well, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The night winds down with Jack flopping onto the couch beside you, half-asleep but still grinning like a kid. “You have fun, Y/N?”

You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Yeah. Thanks for dragging me here.”

Jack gives your shoulder a gentle nudge. “Anytime, little sis.”

Nico, Luke, and Dawson join you shortly after, each collapsing into the nearest seat. The five of you sit there, surrounded by the aftermath of the party—empty cups, candy wrappers, and a whole lot of memories.

And as you glance around at your chaotic, overprotective teammates, you realize there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

[brodygold]

The Golden Knight

Evan had always admired the Golden Army from afar. Their golden jerseys, their unity, their unmatched spirit on the field—all of it had an aura of grandeur. But he never imagined that he’d become an essential part of their team in such an extraordinary way.

It all began on a warm, late afternoon when Evan was called into the Golden Army’s headquarters by Captain Richard. He wasn't a player, but his contributions as a fan and volunteer had not gone unnoticed. The Golden Army needed more than just players—they needed a symbol, a beacon of their strength. That’s when Richard made the offer.

"We need a mascot, someone to embody the essence of the Golden Knight, the one who leads us in spirit even when we're down. Someone to represent our golden ideals of loyalty, courage, and unity. And we’ve chosen you, Evan."

Evan could hardly believe his ears. He wasn’t sure what it entailed, but the thought of being part of the Golden Army, even in such a capacity, filled him with pride.

Richard led Evan to a room he had never seen before. Inside, a golden suit of armor rested on a stand, gleaming under the lights. It was magnificent, every inch of it polished to perfection. The chestplate had the Golden Army's emblem engraved into it—a lion surrounded by rays of sunlight.

“This armor,” Richard explained, “was crafted to represent the heart of the Golden Army. You’ll wear it during our matches, on the sidelines, and at special events. You’ll be our Golden Knight.”

Evan’s eyes widened as he took in the suit. He had always seen mascots as fun figures who boosted team morale, but this was different. This was regal. This was a role of honor. Without hesitation, Evan agreed.

The next day, he stood before the rest of the team, clad in the golden armor. The breastplate fit snugly over his chest, and the helmet, though heavy, felt empowering. The players—Brody, Griffin, Scott, Jackson, and the others—welcomed him warmly, each giving him a pat on the shoulder or a nod of approval. Brody, especially, beamed with pride.

“You’re one of us now,” Brody said, his tone full of warmth. "Our Golden Knight."

Evan took his new role seriously. On game days, he’d march ahead of the team as they entered the field, the crowd cheering wildly as his golden armor glistened in the sun. His presence on the sidelines became a source of inspiration for the players, a reminder of their golden ideals. When a game got tough, they’d glance toward Evan, standing tall and proud, and find the strength to push through.

As weeks passed, Evan found himself growing closer to the team, no longer just a fan or a volunteer, but a true part of the Golden Army. He stood by Richard’s side during the games, offering words of encouragement. He’d lead chants, his voice booming through the stadium. The crowd began to see him not just as a mascot, but as a guardian of the team’s spirit.

But it wasn’t all fun and games. There was pressure. When the Golden Army faced their rivals, The Titans, in a critical match, tension ran high. The Titans were tough, and the game wasn’t going in the Golden Army’s favor. At halftime, the team looked deflated, their energy sapped by their opponents' relentless assault.

Evan knew he had to do something. As the team gathered in the locker room, he stood in front of them, still in his gleaming golden armor.

“Remember who you are,” Evan said, his voice firm. “You’re the Golden Army. You fight for each other. You fight for every fan in that stadium. You fight for the honor of wearing that jersey.”

The players looked up, their spirits reigniting with every word. Richard nodded approvingly, and Jackson slapped Evan on the back. “You’re right,” Richard said. “We’re not done yet.”

The Golden Army returned to the field with a new fire in their hearts, and by the end of the match, they had triumphed, securing their spot in the playoffs. As the final whistle blew, Evan couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. The players rushed toward him, lifting him high above their heads, their Golden Knight.

In the weeks that followed, Evan continued to serve loyally as the Golden Knight. He wasn’t just a man in a suit of armor; he was a symbol of the Golden Army’s unwavering resolve, a beacon of hope and strength.

And as long as he wore that armor, Evan knew he would always be a true member of the Golden Army, serving the bros any way he could.

[jeridandridge]

A Shoulder to Cry On

When Melissa’s Nanna gets sick you’re the only one she lets in. CW: Mention of death

It’s lunchtime on a Wednesday when she gets the call. You run after her down the hallway following Melissa into her classroom. She’s shaking and nearly drops her keys when you reach over gently taking her hand.

“Melissa, let me drive.” You tell her taking the keys and reaching for her purse. The redhead looks at you with flushed cheeks and a wobbling lip before she lunges forward holding onto you like a life raft.

Resting your head against hers she shakes in your arms letting out a sob, clawing at the back of your shirt like she can’t get close enough to you. “Cmon, Mel. Let’s go see her.”

Maria Schemmenti is one tough lady. At 93 years old she was still cooking Sunday dinners, making sauce from scratch outside and pasta noodles in her kitchen. Now, Melissa has to see her grandmother small and frail in a cold hospital bed connected to all kinds of wires. Of course you learn this after Melissa comes back to the waiting room, melting against you again. Not even her leather jacket she wore as armor could give her the boost she needed today. Instead, she hides her face in your neck.

“It’s bad.”

You close your eyes for a moment, standing in the crowded waiting room with the sound of the fluorescent lights flickering and the smell of hand sanitizer you squeeze Melissa gently. A hug that lets her know you’re not going anywhere.

In the early morning hours when you convince Melissa to go home and get some sleep she sobers up as she unlocks her front door. “Thanks for coming with me, hon.” She gives you a sad smile.

You eye her hand on the door then look back at her tired eyes. “Do you want me to stay?” You weren’t sure what you two were, but you had to be something to her if she let you see her so vulnerable and allowed you in her house.

Melissa reaches out for your hand leading you through the dark house up to her bedroom. You’d never seen her room before, and it was completely Melissa. From the framed eagles jersey on one of the walls to the stack of books on her nightstand. You can’t help but smile.

Moving in the dark Melissa strips down to just a tshirt and her underwear, climbing into bed. You stand there for a moment unsure if you should do the same.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” She quirks a brow watching you kick off your shoes hesitantly. You strip down to your tank top and underwear crawling under the cool sheets, immediately warmed up by Melissa curling around you.

This is the first night you fall asleep in Melissa’s bed.

Two days later you’re in the teachers lounge waiting for the students to arrive, only this time Melissa isn’t there in her usual spot. Standing by the coffee pot you call her and the phone rings. And rings. Then voicemail.

“Barb, have you heard from Melissa?”

“No, dear I haven’t. She probably just needed the day to herself.” She assures you patting your shoulder before she walks out.

You sigh trying to keep your mind off of the woman. To no avail your mind drifts from your lesson plans to the woman even during the middle of class. You were happy to have the older kids, it was easy to put on music and have them work out of their books for the afternoon. Sat on your desk your phone vibrates immediately sending a wave of anxiety through you. Unlocking the phone you read the text from Melissa with a shaky breath. Her nanna was gone.

The end of the day couldn’t come fast enough. When it does you jog to Barbara’s classroom trying to catch her before she goes.

“Oh, y/n, I was just going to call you.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder as you walk in. “Did she tell you?”

“Yes, she told me.” She sighs with a nod. “I can’t expect her to be doing well.”

Mulling Barbara’s words over you realize that Barbara is probably the only person that could get through to her.

“I think you should go check on her. She’ll listen to you.”

Barbara gives you a soft smile reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. “Who did she let take her to the hospital, babygirl? She didn’t ask me.”

That’s when it hits you. Barb is absolutely right. Whatever you had with Melissa, you would have to make the first move. Right now, you know you need to go take care of her.

“I’ll send you a text later, let you know what’s going on.” You offer playing with the ring of your keys.

“Good luck, honey.”

A little while later you get to Melissa’s with a pizza and a hoodie of yours that she loved to borrow. Parking in the driveway you get out and use the spare key that’s hidden behind the mailbox because “rock keys are too obvious, y/n”

Unlocking the front door all the lights are off and the curtains are closed. Setting everything down on the counter you head upstairs. “Mel, it’s just me. I’m coming up.”

In the hall you go to her bedroom, hand on the doorknob you find it locked. “Mel?” you call out, anxiety hitting you. “Mel, I’m not against kicking the door down.”

You hear a watery laugh from the other side of the door as it opens. There Melissa stands, in flannel bottoms and an old Abbott tshirt. “Thank god, I didn’t wanna scuff my new shoes.” You joke holding your arms open for her.

She steps forward curling herself into you letting out a sigh. “I fell asleep going through pictures.”

You hum twirling the end of her hair with your fingers. “You needed to sleep. I brought your favorite pizza and I’m yours all weekend. Whatever you need.”

Melissa lets out a bubble of laughter holding onto you enjoying the warmth and comfort you offer. She didn’t have the nerve to tell you how she felt, but she figured her actions were enough for now.

“All mine huh?” She hums against you before she lifts her head meeting your eyes. You give her a soft smile noticing the freckles across her nose, how they’re more noticeable when her cheeks are flushed. Lifting your hand you gently wipe the dried tear stains from her cheeks lingering against her skin.

“Let’s get you some food and put in a cheesy movie.”

Melissa keeps her arm around you as you go downstairs, feeling a bit of life again with you around.

“Thanks for taking care of me, hon.” She lets out in a hoarse voice.

Smiling you wrap your arm around her shoulder with a squeeze.

“I’ll always take care of you, Mel.”

[svechnikovvv]

friend of a friend

pairing: jamie drysdale x fem!reader

warnings: profanity

summary: you finally meet the jamie trevor is always talking about

a/n: first jamie one and i’m so excited

masterlist: here

being friends with trevor had its benefits. such as going to his hockey games and meeting all of his pro hockey friends. specifically a certain jamie drysdale.

jamie and i met when i picked trevor up from practice one day.

***

to say i was lost would be the understatement of the year. i had no fucking clue where i was. all trevor said was to come to the arena and go inside.

i’m walking around, taking different turns down different hallways and yep, im lost.

“this is why i don’t listen to trevor,” i mumble to myself, then bumping into somebody.

“woah, speedy gonzalez,” i hear someone laugh and i look up to see possibly one of the prettiest guys ever. he’s smiling, and oh my god, the freckles on his face i could sit there and count them all day.

“sorry, i should really pay attention sometimes.” he waves me off

“not that i’m complaining, because it’s not everyday you run into a pretty lady, but do you work here?” my face heats up at his compliment and i shake my head.

“quite the opposite. i’m looking for someone.” he leans against the wall opposite of me and crosses his arms.

“and who might that be?”

“i don’t know if you know him, but trevor.”

“zegras?” i nod and he stands up, gesturing me to follow him.

“so how do you know z?” i ask him

“teammate.”

“you poor soul.” he laughs

“how do you know z?” he fires back at me

“grew up together,” he nods his head. we continue to keep the conversation flowing and soon, we’re at the ice. trevor sees the guy and i and he cheers.

“was wondering when you’d get here,” he steps off the ice and pulls me into a hug.

“yeah, well, ‘come to rink and come inside’ is a very vague text message.” he rolls his eyes and then looks at the guy beside me.

“jamie, i see you’ve met y/n.” trevor throws an arm around my shoulders. so this is jamie

“this is the y/n you always talk about?” i look at jamie

“all good things i hope.” i give him a smile

“yep, this is my unbiological sister.” trevor says

“sadly,” i mumble to myself, but he hears it anyways. he gasps and goes to poke my side, but i move out from under his arm and stand behind jamie.

“protect me jamie!” his arms go out in front of him to guard me.

“don’t worry y/n, i’ll be your knight in shining armor.” trevor tries to get me, but jamie stops him.

“jamie, i thought we were friends.” trevor says

“we are, but i must protect the fair maiden. what kind of knight in shining armor would i be if i didn’t?” trevor rolls his eyes and walks back to the bench, grabbing his stuff and walking back over to jamie and i.

“alright drysdale, i’ve gotta go.” they dap each other up and trevor nods his head in the direction to leave.

“it was nice meeting you jamie.” i give him a little smile

“likewise,” he says.

***

i throw on my drysdale jersey that jamie gifted me and i do a double-check to make sure i have everything i need before leaving the house. this would be my first time wearing the jersey, so it’s kind of a surprise for jamie.

***

“honey i’m home!” i get up off the couch and run over to the door to greet jamie.

“there you are. went to your place and you weren’t there,” he pouts.

“z wanted to watch the newest spider-man movie, so he invited me over.” he nods and pulls me into him, giving me a short and sweet kiss.

“come on lovebirds! this movie won’t watch itself!” i see jamie roll his eyes and we walk over to the couch, me sitting in jamie’s lap. i rest my side against his chest and he places a bag in my lap.

“what’s this?”

“just figured i’d get you a little something.” i give him a look and he smiles.

“open it, i want to see what it is.” trevor impatiently says and i open said bag, pulling out a duck’s jersey. i open it and hold it up to see jamie’s last name and number across the back.

“i’ve been replaced.” i hear trevor sigh and jamie and i laugh

“it’s okay z, i still love you.” jamie says and i set the jersey down in my lap.

“thank you my love, it’s amazing.” i whisper to jamie and his face goes red place a kiss on his cheek.

***

when i get to the arena, i make my way to the seat right by the ice. i see some of the other wags and their kids by the ice, the kids standing on the chairs and tapping the glass. i sit down and jamie’s eyes meet mine and he skates over. he stops by the glass and smiles.

“jaim, look.” i turn around and show him that i was wearing his jersey and i spin back around to see him smiling. he blows me a kiss and then skates off.

“you guys are cute,” i hear dani say and my face heats up.

“i can’t imagine being with anyone else,” i say as i watch jamie skate around and laugh at something trevor said.

once the game was over, i head to the tunnel with the other people and jamie is one of the first people to come out. he rushes over to me and pulls me into him.

“you’re eager,” i laugh and he nods.

“with you wearing my jersey, how can’t i be?” he pulls away from the hug and goes to kiss me but i stop him.

“right now? babe, we’re in public.” he pouts, his hands toying with my belt loops.

“BUT, maybe i can make an exception for you.” his face lights up and i place a hand on his cheek and he bends down, capturing my lips in his. we then pull apart and he looks down at me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. his hand then rests on my cheek. his eyes take a brief look at my jersey and he smiles.

“i can get used to seeing you with my last name.”

“mm, you’re such a flirt.”

“for you and you only.”

tags: @jackhues @jackhughesily

a/n: first jamie one, how we feeling? but i am officially done with requests (:

[strawberryblondebutch]

I love my bike. I bought it with cash from a sketchy old man to piss off my parents. It was way too high cc for a beginner. The first time I got on it, it kicked out from under me and I separated the shoulder doctors had tried so hard to put back together.

Every time I drive it, I put on a helmet. I have to replace the helmet if I ever hit my head, because then it's compromised and it could explode. I put on Kevlar high-tops to keep my ankles from breaking. I wear an armored vest and a jacket to keep my organs inside my body. I carry multiple pieces of ID so first responders can identify me in a wreck.

When I brush my teeth or comb my hair, I see a scar under my eye from a piece of broken glass that was embedded in my skin. I'm one of the lucky ones.

Last month, a pediatric oncologist in Philadelphia was thrown off her bike and killed because a drunk man lost control of his car. He was flooring it the wrong way on a narrow city street.

Last night, two men were riding their bikes home in South Jersey to prepare for their sister's wedding. They happened to be hockey players. One car decided to slow down and pull away from them. Another man -- drunk, yes, but fundamentally angry and impatient -- decided to floor it and go around this slow, burdensome car. Killing both.

We get thoughts. We get prayers. We don't get any meaningful change. Because in Philly, on the Main Line, in South Jersey? The convenience of car drivers outweighs the lives of pedestrians. Of cyclists. Of motorcyclists.

I just want to leave my fucking house. I want to do everything right and not end up a splatter on the street.

I'm heartbroken for the Gaudreaus. For the Blue Jackets, who lost another teammate. For Kevin Hayes, who lost his best friend so soon after his brother's death.

But more than that, I'm fucking furious.

[spacetime1969]

TOAxDC anyone?

I've been a part of the MariBat fandom for years now, and more recently become a part of the BatPham fandom since it grew into a full fandom of it's own.

In all that time I have been sitting on an idea for another crossover with DC that I think has just as much potential to become something entirely its own.

So, allow me to present the idea of Tales of Arcadia x Batman, which I've been affectionate calling the BATHUNTER crossover in my head.

More ramblings and fic recs under the cut.

So, first and foremost:

We have a bat bait, blue eyed, black haired, protagonist with trauma. Comparing this to the other two fandoms we've already hit the ground running.

We also have a reason for them to be in Gotham. At the end of Trollhunters we have Claire and Jim going with the trolls to find a new heartstone in New Jersey. Gotham is in New Jersey.

The trolls traveling across the country and founding New Trollmarket right in the Bat's territory doesn't even require an explanation beyond 'They found the new heartstone under Gotham City.'

The opportunities for identity shenanigans are still just as present as ever. If you stick to the full canon of the Tales of Arcadia universe, sans the time travel reset, then Jim, Claire and possibly Toby are both human and the bats could meet them as human civilians and as vigilantes who go around with glowing face covering armor and the ability to just disappear.

Personally, I'm not a huge fan of canon past the first half of wizards. So I like the idea of Jim using a glamour mask to go to school while being a vigilante in his half troll form. Make the bat's even more confused.

I also feel like the dichotomy between the three rules of trollhunting and Batman's usage of fear as a weapon and no killing rule would be fascinating.

Just:

"Fear heightens your senses. Fear keeps you alive. Arrogance gets you killed."

-vs-

“You prefer to call me Batman. But the reason you can never escape me … is that my name is fear. And I live within you.”

“Always finish the fight.”

-vs-

"Heroes should never kill a villain, no matter the depths of his villainy."

They would probably agree on rule three, though: “When in doubt, always kick them in the gronk-nuts.” Since Batman identifying weakness in both his teammates and villains is a whole thing.

Lastly, the potential for bio-dad aus is fascinating to me. Specifically, not with Bruce as the bio-dad, but with Commissioner Jim Gordon.

For anyone who hasn't happened on Jim Gordon's backstory, allow me to give some context. Jim Gordon's wife was named Barbara Eileen Gordon. They had two children, Barbra Gordon and Jim Gordon Jr. Barbara Eileen divorced Commissioner Gordon because she wanted to get her son out of Gotham.

From what I understand, in canon she keeps the name and eventually moves back to Gotham after her son becomes a serial killer and inmate of Arkham Asylum.

But this is an AU, canon is what ever we want it to be and Jim Lake being the biological kid of Commishionre Gordon and little brother of Barbra Gordon aka Oracle has some real potential in the right author's hands.

Fic Recs:

Loose Lips, by NerdofSpades

Batman wants answers. Jim wants to be left alone, so he can go back to his not so normal life. Too bad those two things aren't at all compatible with each other. At least Jim gets some new friends out of all of this. Probably. Maybe.

One of my favorite fics in general. Jim becomes friends with the Young Justice team while trying to convince Batman that he's 'just a civilian'.

three teenagers are loose in gotham (what will they do), by clayr_of_the_lillies

sometimes you become a vigilante deliberately. sometimes its twitter's fault. aka a tales of arcadia/batman crossover that wouldn't leave my mind.

Very funny and well thought out. I particularly like this interpretation of Gotham's trollmarket and the friendship between the trollhunters and the batfam.

In Their Blood, NerdofSpades

Barbara Lake saw an uncomfortably familiar pattern in the behavior of James Lake Junior. She saw it in almost everything he did these days. She had seen it in her friends growing up. She had lived it herself. She just wasn't sure how to help him, so, instead, she calls in a friend.

Another fun one by NerdofSpades. Barbara, having been Batgirl, recognizes Jim's behavior in herself. It's a shorter one but still a lot of fun

I'm also working on a couple of my own fics set in this crossover, but their still WIP for now

[republicsecurity]

From the Pitch to Patrol: This Year's Soccer Stars Turned Enforcers

As another year of conscription rolls around, the public is seeing a new wave of high-profile soccer stars trading their cleats and jerseys for full-body armor and shaved heads. The transition from the glamorous world of professional sports to the disciplined life of Security Services cadets has become an annual spectacle, capturing the attention of fans and the media alike.

The Draft

This year's draft came as no surprise, given the Republic's unwavering conscription laws. Under these laws, all able-bodied males must serve a period in the Security Forces. While some athletes had hoped for leniency, the authorities remained firm, emphasizing that no one is above their civic duty. This year's roster of draftees includes some of the biggest names in soccer, now seen patrolling public spaces in stark, imposing armor.

A New Look

Gone are the colorful mohawks, dreadlocks, and man-buns. The soccer stars now sport uniformly shaved heads, a requirement for all cadets to maintain discipline and uniformity. Seeing these once-iconic figures in their new roles is a stark reminder of the transformative power of conscription. Marco "The Mane" Valdez and Liam "Lionheart" Gallagher, previously celebrated for their distinctive looks and rebellious styles, are now almost unrecognizable in their new roles.

Drill Instructor's Take

"They are good material, fit and lean," says Drill Instructor 8UZTT. "They will make good Enforcers." The physical conditioning and teamwork skills honed on the soccer field are proving advantageous in their new roles. The strict training regimen and disciplined environment are molding these athletes into formidable members of the Security Services.

Life in Service

Patrolling the streets in full body armor, the former soccer stars have had to adjust to a completely different kind of discipline. The rigorous training regimen and strict protocols leave little room for the kind of escapades that once made headlines. Their social media feeds, once filled with snapshots of wild parties and exotic vacations, now show a starkly different reality: early morning drills, maintenance of their gear, and the occasional group photo with their fellow enforcers.

For some, the transition has been smoother than expected. "It's a different kind of team spirit," says former midfielder Theo "Thunder" Johnson. "On the field, you rely on your teammates to watch your back. In the Security Services, it's the same principle, just with higher stakes."

Remote Postings

A few stars, concerned about the constant scrutiny from fans, have opted for remote postings. These assignments, while more isolated, offer a degree of anonymity and safety from the public eye. "It’s tough being in the spotlight all the time," admits defender Alex "Ace" Martinez. "Out here, I can focus on my duties without the pressure of being recognized everywhere I go."

The End of Eccentricity

The flamboyant lifestyles that once defined these players are now a thing of the past. The Security Services' strict codes of conduct and the inherent risks of their new roles have necessitated a more subdued existence. "It’s a wake-up call," says striker Jamie "Jet" Evans. "You learn to appreciate structure and discipline. There’s no room for reckless behavior when you're responsible for public safety."

Public Reaction

Fans have had mixed reactions to this transformation. While some express disappointment at the loss of their idols from the sports world, others commend the players for their service and the example they set. "It's inspiring to see them step up and fulfill their duties," says longtime fan Sarah Mitchell. "It shows that they’re not just athletes, but also responsible citizens."

The Future

Former soccer player F100C, whose shaved head shines in the sun, now stands ramrod straight as he talks about his new life. "The discipline, the sense of duty, it's changed me," he says. "I've learned to value structure and purpose in a way I never did before." His transformation is emblematic of the journey many of these athletes undergo, trading the unpredictable life of a soccer star for the regimented world of the Security Forces.

As their conscript duty continues, these former soccer stars are adapting to their new roles with a mix of resolve and reflection. The experience is shaping them in unexpected ways, imparting lessons in discipline, duty, and resilience that will undoubtedly influence their future, whether they return to the pitch or continue to serve in other capacities.

[puppylove24680]

the boy, he is here

full explanation under the cut (it is long)

Okay so basically the idea is that each egg started out very human to "blend in" as a species survival strategy but slowly they grow more and more dragon like until they "hatch." The egg is their true form but this is what they present as if that makes sense?

So, Chayanne!

Base:

at this stage he very much resembles Missa if he were human and not a skeleton, he has his dark hair and eyes and his skin tone.

Fangs:

Chayanne's first dragon feature is sharp teeth, but what makes his unique is that his lower fangs are more pronounced, looking like tusks and somewhat resembling Techno as a result, driving home the resemblance in Phil's mind.

His shirt is somewhat reminiscent of Tommy, further driving home that family connection for Phil, and of course its green because that's Phil's color. So we have a kid with Missa's physical resemblance who looks like people Phil knows in the small details.

Claws:

Chayanne gained claw quickly after starting to live on the wall, as a sort of help for navigating up and down it.

Eyes:

After Charlie's attempt on his life, Chayanne's eyes became slitted. Phil became very protective and beefed him up in armor and padding to protect him. Basically people kept calling the kid really buff back in the early days and I visualized his armor as full football gear. "01" is a reference to his QNPC number at the time. like a real jersey his name is printed, on the back it reads "MINECRAFT-SINFONIA". His eyes additionally gained a slight green tint to them, his true eye color now being revealed.

Tail:

Chayanne gained his tail after his first real death (neglect), it's feathered due to his bird genes.

Horns:

His horns came in immediately following the nightmare, as a sort of visualization of it being in his head and leaving a mental scar.

Scaled Feet:

His legs were almost "reinforced" after Tallulah's first death, because he was trying to sprint around and wasn't fast enough. He removed his helmet the day Missa came back the first time, as a way to remember oh yeah this is the dad I resemble and to once again show that physical resemblance.

The scars are a parallel to the cracks of his egg form.

Wings:

The wings are a result of "spending too much time at his other job" specifically the incident where Chayanne confronted Tazercraft at the nether portal while creative mode flying. Their feathered due to his bird genes. At this point he has grown out of needing padding to protect himself and now just wears the jersey as a normal shirt.

Scales:

On the day before his disappearance Chayanne woke up with scales on his face and dirt covering him. Along with seemingly more cracks. Every egg basically experienced a major growth spurt that forced them to the final stage of development.

Return:

Upon his return Chayanne no longer felt the need to wear what amounted to a big name tag (admin switch), he began wearing roses in his hair due to his belief in Rose protecting his family.

Color:

After waking up from his slumber, Chayanne's scales had all changed color to his favorite, orange. He put his dark hair up in a way that resembled Phil's. He pierced his ears along with Tallulah, both of them deciding to wear earrings that reminded them of each other. His are a set of poppies.

[rosefinch07]

Red Blood and Blue Rivers (Jason Todd/Jaime Reyes) crossposted on ao3

The ao3 vers

Summary: Blue Beetle crash lands in Gotham, Red Hood is the one to find him.

Jaime screamed as he lost control of his flight, Khaji Da rattling off alert after alert while he tried desperately to get back onto solid ground. He twisted in the air and attempted to grab onto a water tower, the metal denting as he barely missed getting a grip on it.

Khaji Da suddenly took control of his body, the sting of the wind against him dulled.

"What the actual fuck Khaji!" He yelled, startled. "Bájame! Bájame, God-damn-it!" Jaime couldn't even thrash, Khaji going overboard in protective protocols.

Jaime, we are drawing near a suitable landing point. It is in Gotham City, New Jersey. Is that satisfactory?

"Sure! Whatever! Just please put me down?!" He clenched his eyes shut and distantly felt his body crash into grass.

He was unnaturally tensed up until Khaji released him. It was only then that he fully sagged, breathing heavily. His suit was suffocating around him.

Jaime, The Red Hood is approaching. Shall we utilize attack measures?

No. No fighting.

Jaime Reyes–

Let. Him. He could already hear the mulch.

Jaime opened his eyes when the crunch of mulch turned into boots on grass. Red Hood's emotionless helmet tilted down at him.

"The fuck you're doing here, Bug Boy?" His voice changer made the words sound rough.

Jaime laughed it off, the Blue Beetle face shield making it seem as if it was a disembodied voice much like Hood. His suit was still stiff, only a slight give when breathing.

"Powers are out of whack, give me a sec." He made to get up on his own but wobbled, making an absolute fool of himself.

Hood grabbed his hand and pulled him up, pins and needles echoing throughout Jaime's body. He still wasn't stable and his head banged against Red Hood's shoulder, causing him to groan helplessly.

"I am so sorry. I don't have full control of my body back yet." Jaime explained, flexing his hands until the pins and needles left. Hood held him up by his upper arms.

"Just tell me when I should drop you." Hood's monotone voice ordered.

When he got his body back under his control and Khaji let the suit become flexible again, he stepped back with a quick mutter.

"Thanks." Jaime breathed.

Hood tilted his head.

"What the hell happened?"

He shrugged, heeding the warning burst of panic that Khaji sent through his brain. Hood didn't need to know shit.

"Like I said, powers on the fritz." Jaime took another step back and tested out his elytra again.

The muscles attached to them obeyed and let him hover, though due to the amount of energy lost, he couldn't keep it up for long.

Hood, clearly thinking that he was running away, grabbed his wrist and forced him down. Jaime stumbled back into Red Hood's arms, stammering.

Allow me to maim The Red Hood.

It took everything in him to keep Khaji from materializing a weapon and impaling the guy who was the one thing between him and eating dirt.

Absolutely not.

Hood was a hard man of armor and muscle. His arms supported Jaime and his gloved hands were on his hips.

"You are literally shaking." Hood stated. "You are not going to wherever-the-fuck Texas when you probably can't make it two blocks."

Khaji confirmed it.

Jaime chuckled, slightly bitter and knowing he was getting defensive.

"What? Like you care?"

Hood shook his head, his fingers digging into the Blue Beetle suit's upper arms as he started walking. Jaime was forced to follow.

"Fuck off, you impressed the big Bat because you had no perceived casualties in your first major fight. I'm doing my duty." He defended, sharply turning them onto a street.

Jaime winced.

The crucifixes under the suit said different, the extra one hanging down further than his own that felt cold against his chest said different.

It had been a few months and yet the loss stung so severely it was as if it had happened only hours before.

"One. One casualty." He corrected absently, rubbing a hand at his chest. "I had to bury him."

Jaime tried falling into step with Hood but kept falling behind.

Hood seemed to let out a sympathetic hum, but it turned into a garbled mess so he didn't know for sure.

"Sucks, first casualty always hits the hardest." Before he knew it, they were going up the steps of an apartment building. Hood led them into an unit and locked the door behind them. "Want to talk about it?" He seemed to go softer at those words, but it might have been his imagination.

Jaime bit his cheek.

Given that it was Papi, hell no.

"I would rather not." He admitted, ignoring how antsy Khaji became. It was as if it was pacing around and gnawing at the bars of an enclosure.

Even just saying what he'd said so far soothed him slightly, but he didn't want to prove the telehealth therapist right.

"Anyways, I really do need to get going. I can find my own way." He shrugged off Hood's hands and stood on his own, taking a step or two back to create space.

Hood just rocked back onto his heels, casual as anything.

"Suit yourself."

Suspicion crept in and he stepped towards the door. Five steps in and he couldn't go further without falling.

"Coño." He grumbled. "I shouldn't need you to play caretaker for me."

Hood picked him up and plopped him onto the couch, Jaime plus whatever Khaji weighed not seeming to effect him. The headiness of the effortless show of strength caused him to swallow around a dry throat. He sat up on the couch.

"Well, I am." Hood took off his helmet to reveal a domino mask and a handsome face. Was that white streak in his bangs dyed? "I'll get us something to drink, I'm parched and you might be too." His actual voice was scratchy with cigarettes, though young, like him.

He examined Hood's scarred lips and cheeks, shifting a bit so he could watch as he walked to the kitchen.

Jaime, you are showing signs of what you humans call "infatuation." I recommend "shooting your shot."

It took everything in him to not react to its words.

What happened to wanting to kill the broader guy where he stood?

The Red Hood is showing signs connected to a trait you would call being trustworthy. I am monitoring nonetheless.

Cool.

Cool, cool, cool...

Was he really planning on flirting with the crime lord?

He could practically hear Milagro laugh at him for being a disaster bi.

Jaime couldn't even lie to himself and say that it was tactical flirting, there was no rhyme or reason to it.

Hood came back and handed him water while sipping from a beer can. Jaime debated for all of two seconds before letting the mask pull down to his neck. He sipped at his water.

There was a certain risk to it. In trusting someone he just met with his face.

"Thank you, Hood."

Hood studied his face before a smirk tugged at his lips and at that scar on his cupid's bow before it disappeared behind the can again.

Jaime's heart practically stopped at his next words.

"No problem, Pretty Boy."

He pushed his hair back from his face, running a hand through it just so he had something to focus on in order to not get all flustered.

"You're not that bad to look at yourself, Hermoso." Jaime shot back, winking.

Hood chuckled, sitting next to him. His gloves were still on, Khaji noted for him.

"Would've thought you'd be more southern sounding, given Texas and all." Red Hood stated, an amused smile to his lips.

Jaime waved his own covered hand.

"I know how to control it. Spanish sounds plain weird with a Texan accent so I just don't use the accent all that much. I mean, I don't really get the accent since I'm not that far south but I do know when to use it." He moved his tongue in his mouth to get the proper placement for it. "Si estuviera hablando así todo el día, mi familia tendría mi cabeza en una pica!" Jaime laughed at how he sounded. It was like he was some kid who was learning Spanish in classes, slow and not as quick as he was used to because of the southern drawl.

Hood laughed with him, knocking their shoulders together.

"You're right. Though, no creo que tu familia pueda derribarte como yo podría hacerlo."

Jaime flushed, his cheeks going hot.

"Is that a challenge I hear?" Had all of the boldness he could muster.

Hood tilted Jaime's chin up, looking down at him. His mouth twisted into something more appraising.

"Maybe. Do you want a beat down?"

Khaji was a constant pulse in his head. It caused ripples to form along the suit's surface.

Jaime Reyes, do not dare.

Fine, he wouldn't get Red Hood to pin him down and make him helpless. A guy can't have any fun around here.

He shrugged, overly aware of the shivers that Hood's hand on his chin was creating down his spine.

"We can schedule a time and place for it." Jaime gestured to the apartment. "Wouldn't want to wreck your shit."

Hood chuckled, leaning close to his face. He could see the fine mesh on white out lenses of the domino, the stubble on his cheeks. The beer on his breath smelled malty.

"What if you rocked it?" He whispered, his voice breathy and suggestive like everything else out of his mouth and Jaime broke.

His head pounded with Khaji's alarm as he turned to lean up. It was foolish, he didn't care.

Their lips met in a brush before he pressed closer and tongue was involved. Red Hood tasted just as he smelled: of ash, beer, chocolate, and tar.

It was bad. It was foul. It was everything.

Khaji went blissfully quiet and Jaime pulled Hood on top of him, tangling his hands into his dark hair. The Blue Beetle suit and the Red Hood costume were too bulky to be up against each other comfortably, but they did what they could.

Jaime pulled back to gasp breathlessly and Hood tried to chase his lips for a second. His back met the couch cushions. The larger man put one foot on the ground and his knee on the couch and loomed over him, his mouth set in a spit-slick grin. It was downright predatory.

He started to lean down to kiss him again when an unfamiliar notification sound echoed through the apartment. Hood groaned, dropping his head in frustration.

"Hood-" Jaime started, sitting up when he got off the couch.

He just grabbed his phone and texted someone, fury in every line of his body. He messed with the mask some, odd movements scratching at the side. Hood eventually relaxed, coming back to hover over him again.

"Yeah, Angel Face?" He wiped a string of saliva off Jaime's chin with his thumb.

Jaime forgot what he was about to say, so he just swallowed and went to the next best thing.

"What was that about?"

Hood hummed and rubbed circles distractingly at the corner of Jaime's mouth.

"Just someone sticking their head in something that doesn't concern them."

He pressed a hungry kiss against Jaime so he couldn't answer and he responded in kind, grunting into it as Hood moved his head how he wished. His stubble scratched against his face, a curious sensation. He was already getting used to the ash and tar after-taste.

The loss of control made his head spin and he grasped at broad shoulders.

It was as if he was being consumed.

The next time he pulled back for air (seriously, how much lung compacity did Hood have?), his breaths were shaky and his fingers itched to pull Hood's mask off so he could mimic Jaime's own bare face. Hood started mouthing at the bare space below his jaw and Jaime drew the Blue Beetle suit lower, to his shoulders.

Jaime, do you trust this man with you bare? Khaji checked in, the closest thing to concern coloring the mechanical voice. At the rate you are going, he will see me or see the chains you fight to keep intact within twenty more minutes.

Fuck, it was right.

He tugged at Hood's hair so he disconnected from his neck. He looked up at him inquisitively, a slight frown to his lips at being interrupted.

"No- No biting below shoulders, no action below the belt."

Jaime could live with visible hickies. He just didn't want the intimacy of a naked chest, of his back and torso on display. It was too much.

Red Hood nodded, his lips tugging up.

"Thanks, noted." He said, as if it was nothing. "I'm not good with being restrained by my arms."

Jaime made a confirming noise.

"Cool."

He twirled Hood's hair between his fingers and took a moment to slow down. Hood leaned into the rythmic motion.

Jaime pressed a kiss to his lips and Hood pushed him to lay down again, keeping their lips together.

"After our fight, would you like to go to dinner with me?" He murmured into Jaime's mouth. He finally felt the scarring.

"What about our identities?" Jaime blinked through the haze.

Hood winced.

"Oracle found out your identity from tapping into the mask camera at a very... bad time. They told me before I could stop them." He seemed apologetic.

Khaji jolted into action before he could stop it, making the suit close around his panicked face and blades peek out of his arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't control this." He forced the blades back and calmed Khaji down enough to get his face uncovered again.

Hood leaned back, giving Jaime space before taking the domino off.

Green eyes flecked with blue greeted him, the pupils blown a bit.

"My name is Jason Todd, nice to smooch ya' Jaime Reyes." Hood- Jason tilted his head teasingly.

Jaime rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"You're good at it, Jason."

He didn't know what else to say and Jason just chuckled.

"You're pretty good at it too, Jaime."

Jaime intertwined their fingers and looked up at him.

"I would love to go to dinner with you."

SPANISH TRANSLATIONS

Bájame- put me down

Coño- fuck

Hermoso- handsome

Si estuviera hablando así todo el día, mi familia tendría mi cabeza en una pica- If I was talking like that all day, my family would have my head on a pike

no creo que tu familia pueda derribarte como yo podría hacerlo- I don't think your family can take you down quite like I could

[lovelyladylavie]

Background character sketches for "My Brother’s Child", a fic I've been writing for about a year. It is E-rated for s*x and graphic vio lence, but it's also full of Rise-style fluff, family moments, and humor. But I'm adding a T-rated version soon, and when I do, I'll drop the link.

The fic is generally about the different stages of love and loss the adult turtles go through during the apocalyptic future in the Rise Movie, and how things change over the course of the years until Time Travel Day. The fic is canon compliant, so all the losses suffered in the movie are, in fact, in the fic, or will be soon.

So i needed some background characters that can create situations for the turtles to navigate. Expendables, if you will.

This is the Mad Dogs Hockey Team (and a few others). They're Raph and Cass' scavenger squad full of ultra-strong weirdos. All their weapons and armor were made by Donnie during a fit of unbridled inspiration.

But anyway, in case you can't read my chicken scratch (from left to right) under the cut:

Denzlo:

-Stinky Boy

-Doesn't shower much to conserve water

-Fiercely Loyal to Raph and Cass

-Incredibly kind, but has a short fuse

Evans:

-Out of the Box Thinker

-Tall and Buff (gotta stay fit in the apocalypse)

-Smartass

-loves his wife, Spice

(Not on here, but recent lore drop in the fic, Evans was training to be a radiologist, so he's the group's de facto medic. He also loves stealing dried herbs/spices during scavenges to spice up he and his wife's rations)

Spice:

-Soft spoken and stealthy

-uses Donnie-Tech camo cloak

-high kraang kill-count

-loves her husband (they dance together at bad times)

-was a law student

Pietro:

-Angry at everything, was scared of mutants (still kinda is.)

-has two kids (Trish and Tai)

-unpleasant person in general

Quinn:

-Short Queen, sweetheart

-Used to be a mortician

-Goth, from Jersey

-Took care of Raphael’s body

Maya:

-A bit self-centered, brutal, sadistic

-likes cute things

-likes Mikey

-uh oh

The honorable Rabbi Venkman (Not a member of the Hockey Team, but one of Mikey’s 'Light-Steppers', the mystic warrior squad he teaches):

-handles all religious crises in the rebellion base

-Thinks the world of Mikey, learned mystic arts from him

-very tall and soft spoken

-very moral and fair, if a lil sassy

Delia Vardanyan (civilian):

-In charge of the war's orphans, takes care of all children on base when their parents are busy, in charge of their general education.

-HATES Donnie (likes his brothers, though?)

- Armenian immigrant. survivor of the original kraang attack. Very loud/outspoken. They found her eating MREs in a turned over battleship in the harbor.

-Trusts. NO. One. (Sleeps a lot)

Yuri:

-Was a tourist/exchange student in NYU from Sweden

-Struggles with English and has a very heavy accent

-Maya is his bestie by default bc she speaks fluent Swedish and was the only one who could understand him when the world flipped upside down. His English has gotten better over the years, but he still needs her.

-Speedy in battles. Will share his rations. Bit of an appreciator of the finer things in life, like wine.

-Maya and Yuri have both slept with Mikey. Mikey is quite a Casanova in the resistance due to his mystic mystique. (That... might change once he starts aging more rapidly, however...)

There's another page of characters, but it contains spoilers, so im gonna have to correct that before i show it.

[puckinghischier]

Maybe it’s the Marylander in me but I am still sick to my stomach that under armor didn’t slide in to have a deal with NHL, and fanatics did. Cause like at least under armor wouldn’t rip during training camp. 😭 my biggest L was not buying Jerseys when Adidas had them.

(Under Armor started in Maryland for reference)

i just wanna know what fanatics had up their sleeve to snag it. i mean of all the brands, THEM??

you know what i really want though? the canucks lulu gear they’ve been pictured wearing. it’d probably cost as much as a damn jersey but i need it

[ourdramaqueen]

"Anything" by Ourdramaqueen

Rating: Teen and Up Fandom: Wednesday Pairing: Wednesday Addams/Tyler Galpin Summary: Canon divergence for Season 1 Episode 8 A Murder of Woes: Wednesday is dead. Or so Laurel and his father have told Tyler, but he refuses to believe it until he has confirmed this fact for himself. Escaping the armored transport to Willowhill is child's play. What awaits him in Westfield, New Jersey, though, might do what his mother's untimely death, years of his father's neglect, and a year under Laurel's control couldn't: Break Tyler for good. Notes: Happiest of birthdays, @burntblueberrywaffles! Here's some Tyler angst for you.

Read it on AO3

[hedgehogoftime]

JD and Amara save the Multiverse: Bumps in the road

(An interdimensional threat has struck erasing multiple timelines from existence, and JD needs to save it, and their own timeline. Amara of the Summer, from a bad end timeline, has reluctantly teamed up with the Jersey Devil under the impression that they can rewrite history and can reverse the damage done the Reigning Passions world and save her beloved. After a long series of events, the duo have found themselves driving through a devastated forest, Amara in the driver’s seat)

JD: (doing finger guns out of sheer boredom) Pew pew pew, boom, pew…

Amara: Stop that.

(JD stops, but it only keeps them quiet for a few seconds)

JD: So, where’d the armor...?

Amara: Oh, Christ…

JD: Did the Queen make you wear it? They are not your friends, I’ll tell you that much. Friends do not let other friends leave the house looking like a Sarah J Maas protagonist.

Amara: Would you stop talking about the fucking armor?

JD: Okay, geez! I’m just tryin’ to bond a little–

Amara: Yeah? Then talk about something else.

JD: Alright! (sighs) So, if they can fix your world, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get back home? Some rubbing alcohol shots, maybe a wiper fluid chaser?

(Amara starts to answer, but then stops, having realized something about JD’s word choice)

Amara: (with a slight snarl) What did you say?

JD: I said when you get back, what’s the first thing you’re gonna–

Amara: Before. That.

JD: (long pause, having realized their mistake) …If they can fix your world– (Amara suddenly slams on the breaks) Oh fuck…

Amara: What do you mean, IF?!?!

JD: Look, I didn’t mean–

Amara: You lied to me, you don’t have a fucking clue if they can fix things, don’t you?!

(before JD can respond, Amara suddenly stabs him in the thigh with her sword)

JD: AUGH! FUCK! FUCK! I DIDN’T LIE!

Amara: YOU LIED!

JD: NO! I MADE AN EDUCATED WISH! (enraged by such a stupid justification, Amara twists the blade) OW! FUCK! Look, I did it because I need you! (he produces a photograph of the Havenfall crew, all of whom are at risk of being erased from time) I don’t know a damn thing about saving worlds. Why would I even care? My whole world is right here in this picture. It’s only seven people and I have no idea how to save it alone. I know how to fuck people up for money, but you! YOU know how to save them!

Amara: …Did you just say… you made an educated… fucking… wish?

JD: Oh, I’m sorry, have we met? They call me “Jersey Devil”, not “Truthful Timmy, the Blowjob Queen of Saskatoon”! (Amara yanks the blade out of their leg) AUGH!

Amara: (absolutely seething) One more word, please. Just one more fucking word.

JD: …Gubernatorial. (Amara raises her fist, JD flinches in response) EEK!!!

Amara: (sighs and lowers his fist) You know something? You’re a fucking joke. No wonder H.E.R.A. didn’t take you, or the Starship and they’ll take fucking anybody. I mean, you are a ridiculous, immature, half-wit moron. I have never met a sadder, more attention-starved little prick in my entire life, and that’s saying something because I’ve been alive for over two-hundred fucking years. I’ll tell you, that evil lightbulb was right about one thing, you will never. Save. The world.You couldn’t even save a relationship with a goddamn WAITRESS. And motherfucker I wish I could say you’ll die alone, but it’s one of GOD’S BEST JOKES that you can’t die! EXCEPT IT’S ON ALL OF US!!!!!

(and then, the impossible happened… JD was speechless. They just stared at Amara, shocked and seeming to have been genuinely hurt)

Amara: What, you got nothing to say to that, Devil?!

JD: (their face settling into a determined and rage-filled glare) I’m gonna fight you now.

Amara:(laughs derisively) Oh, are you–

(JD suddenly punches her in the face hard enough to cause a nosebleed. Amara stares at him, genuinely shocked for a few seconds, before roaring and responding in kind. The resulting fight, taking place entirely in the car mind you, lasted an entire night. By the time H.E.R.A. found them, both of them were unconscious, except JD was tied up with the car’s seatbelts)

-

@incorrectlovestruck @megatraven @zhoras-bitch @seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana

[necrofuturism]

do astartes have casual wear

all i ever see them in is their armor, the black carapace whatever, and like togas n shit

what about a t-shirt. what about those casual jersey shorts with the loopy drawstring.

there's gotta be scores of ultramarine laundry serfs just absolutely bogged down under loads of Big'n'Tall gray sweatpants with the marines' names all sewn into the back of the waistband