#Dynamic Spin Bike

[bettelaboure]

⊹Devil's night⊹ Choi Seung-Hyun

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⊹ Pairing: Choi Seung-Hyun x Reader

⊹ Summary: In the neon-lit underbelly of Seoul, a world-famous musician reunites with his underground racer best friend on Devil’s Night, where the thrill of speed collides with years of buried tension. As the night escalates into a fever pitch of desire and vulnerability, their bond is tested in the fire of lust, memory, and unspoken longing

⊹ Warnings: sexual content, rough sex, dirty talk, emotional vulnerability, power dynamics, intense language, public sexual acts (implied)

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You hear his voice before you see him.

"You're really gonna race tonight?"

That deep, husky sound that still curls around your spine like a velvet rope. Seung-Hyun, in all his post-tour, post-fame glory, leans against your garage wall like he owns the place. He doesn't. But then again, you never stopped him from acting like he did.

You arch a brow without looking up from the wrench in your hand. "It's Devil's Night. Of course I am."

He steps forward, slow, unhurried, like he’s got nowhere else to be. And when he's around you, that’s the truth. He crouches beside you, close enough that you catch the faintest trace of his cologne—something expensive, smoky, warm. Unmistakably him.

"Let me ride shotgun."

You pause. That gives you a beat. He’s never asked before. Never seen you race, not in the flesh. And certainly not from the passenger seat.

Your lips curve. "You sure you can handle it, Superstar?"

His smirk is sharp, almost cruel. It sends heat straight to your stomach. "Sweetheart, I can handle a lot more than your little car."

Before the engines, before the spotlight, before either of you knew how to be reckless with your futures, there was a streetlamp and a cracked sidewalk in a forgotten corner of Seoul.

You were twelve, maybe thirteen, knees scraped from trying to drift a rusted-out bike, furious with the world and even more furious with yourself for crying when you fell. He found you like that—teeth clenched, fists balled, refusing to let the tears win. He didn’t say anything at first. Just sat beside you and offered a Chupa Chups lollipop with the kind of nonchalance only kids like you could master.

You took it. Eventually.

That was the first night you shared silence like a secret.

He was the quiet one in the apartment above yours, always humming to himself, head nodding to beats only he could hear. You were the storm beneath him—loud, fast, fire in your veins. He watched you tear up the alley on anything with wheels, and you listened to the deep, mellow rhythm of his voice when he sang behind closed doors.

You grew up parallel, orbiting the same concrete and broken neon. When his group got signed, you celebrated with stolen soju and a rooftop dance at 2 a.m., him spinning you until you laughed and almost forgot he was leaving.

"Don’t change," you told him, breathless, hair tangled from wind and stars. "Not for them."

"Only if you promise not to slow down," he said. "Not for anyone."

And neither of you did.

Years passed. He rose. You dove.

But every time he came back, no matter how long he’d been gone, he ended up on your doorstep. Like clockwork. Like gravity.

Because you weren’t just the girl from the alley.

You were the reminder. Of who he was before the screaming fans and flashing lights. Of what it felt like to breathe without a camera watching.

And he? He was the only one who ever saw through the speed and fury—to the ache beneath.

The air at the starting line is thick with tension and smoke, as if the entire block is holding its breath. Seoul’s underworld gathers like shadows come alive—faces partially masked, voices low and excited, a hundred stories written in leather, chrome, and adrenaline. Neon lights pulse from shop signs and parked bikes, throwing jagged colors across the street like stained glass in a cathedral of speed.

Engines snarl. Tires growl against concrete. Music pounds from subwoofers in nearby trunks—dark, pulsing beats that thrum in your veins. You roll your neck once, cracking it loose, then slide into your custom-tuned machine—a midnight-black muscle built for sin. The moment you fire the ignition, it growls like a caged beast, vibrating through your bones.

Seung-Hyun slips into the seat beside you. The car is tight, claustrophobic by design, all heat and metal and proximity. His thigh presses into yours. You don’t move. Neither does he.

"This thing is a monster," he murmurs, gaze sweeping over the custom gauges, the carbon fiber, the worn steering wheel. He smirks. "She built like you—dangerous and a mystery."

You glance at him, tongue dragging slowly across your bottom lip. "Buckle up."

He does, eyes still locked on you.

Tires screech ahead as a car burns rubber, the scent of it mixing with gasoline and sweat. You rev your engine in response. It roars. The crowd stirs. Phones lift. A chant rises from the back of the mob—your name, followed by a rumble of wild anticipation.

A girl in leather shorts and fishnets saunters into the middle of the road, arm raised. The racers go still. All sound narrows. Your heart, your machine, the beat in your chest—they sync.

One finger.

Two.

Three—

GO.

Your car leaps forward like it’s possessed. The back tires fishtail for half a heartbeat, smoke coiling behind you like dragon’s breath before you grip and bolt. Seung-Hyun jerks back in his seat, a breathless laugh leaving his lips, but you’re already gone—mind locked, senses sharpened to a needle’s point.

The world blurs into colors and motion. Neon streaks past your windows like a dream unraveling. The wind howls, the engine howls louder. Every shift of the gear is muscle memory, every turn a dance.

You downshift and take a brutal curve, kissing the edge of a stone wall close enough to peel off paint. Sparks fly. Your focus never wavers.

Seung-Hyun curses beside you, not in fear—but awe. "Holy shit. You drive like the world owes you something."

"It does," you growl, glancing at the red car gaining beside you. "And I’m collecting."

The red Nissan roars up on your right, trying to box you in before the roundabout. You play chicken with him, feinting toward the inner lane, then drop a gear and swerve hard into a back alley barely wider than your car. You know this street like you know his voice in a crowd—intimately.

The alley is a blur of graffiti, forgotten trash bins, and narrow clearance. Your mirrors skim walls. You slide through the chaos with inches to spare. Then you’re back out—like a bullet tearing through the night.

You beat him to the final stretch by a heartbeat.

Seung-Hyun's eyes are wild now, hair tousled, breathing like he just finished a concert. "Shit, shit, shit. You’re insane."

You smirk. "You knew that when you climbed in."

The finish line looms ahead, lit by red flares. You shoot across it with a triumphant scream of tires, smoke curling around you like victory’s kiss.

Chaos erupts behind you—cheers, curses, money exchanging hands.

But all you hear is the sound of your pulse still racing—and his.

But tonight, it’s not the race that has your pulse jackhammering in your throat—it’s him. Seung-Hyun sits beside you, skin practically humming with the same charged adrenaline that’s still burning in your bloodstream. The city glows around you, ghost-like and endless, but it’s the weight of his stare that holds you hostage.

His voice is a rasp of dark silk. "Now show me how you drive when no one's watching. When it’s just you, the night, and whatever demons keep you hungry."

You cut him a look, lips parted in a crooked smile. "You ready to meet them?"

"Sweetheart," he murmurs, dragging the word slow and sinful, "I came back just to watch them play."

Your foot slams down. The car launches forward, tires crying against the pavement. Wind tears through your hair as the skyline smears into streaks of silver and neon. You drive like a storm, reckless and raw, veins alight with pure heat.

Seung-Hyun doesn’t flinch. Instead, he leans in—voice low, dangerous. "Faster. I want to see how wild you get when you think no one's judging."

"You asking or begging?"

His smirk is feral. "Begging comes later. Right now, I’m commanding."

You laugh—sharp, breathless—just as his hand slides over your thigh, warm and sure. He knows exactly where to touch, and how. You nearly lose control.

"Eyes on the road," he growls. "You’re not allowed to fall apart yet. Not until I say."

His fingers slip beneath the edge of your skirt, dragging slowly, purposefully, up—until they find heat. He exhales a curse.

"Already wet for me. Of course you are."

You grit your teeth, white-knuckling the wheel. "Keep talking like that and I’ll crash us both."

"Not a crash," he murmurs, voice thick. "A climax."

His fingers dip between your thighs, confident and commanding. He strokes slow at first—circles, teasing pressure that makes your hips twitch—before pressing harder, deeper, drawing soft, broken sounds from your lips. You’re gripping the wheel like it's the only thing keeping you tethered to the physical world, trying not to crash straight into neon blur and wicked temptation.

He doesn’t let up. If anything, he doubles down, mouth at your ear, breath hot. "That’s it. Just like that. You feel how soaked you are for me? Can’t even pretend you’re in control anymore."

Your body jerks as he curls his fingers inside you. You swerve hard left—too hard—tires shrieking, the car skidding with delicious violence. He chuckles low in his chest, cocky and dark.

"You like playing with danger, baby? Or is it just me that gets you like this?"

Every nerve in your body is a live wire. You’re gasping now, cheeks flushed, pulse everywhere at once. The city lights blur around you like heat haze, but the only thing you can feel is him—his fingers, his breath, the smirk pressed against your jaw as he works you mercilessly with his hand.

You bite down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from moaning. Fail.

"Don’t hold back. I want to hear you. Scream for me while you’re doing eighty through Seoul. Come for me with the whole world watching and no one knowing how filthy you really are."

Your hips rise, stutter. You're falling apart, melting right into the seat as the pressure bursts, white-hot and consuming. And through it all—you’re still driving, teeth bared like a feral thing, high on speed and ruin.

"You’re driving like a goddamn maniac," he says, lips against your ear now. "And I love it. But I want you to come while you’re flying through these streets—prove you’re still the baddest thing in this city."

You try to focus. Try to breathe. But his fingers don’t stop, and neither does his voice.

"Let go for me, baby. Show me how wild you get when you can't hold back."

You do.

With a guttural sound torn from your chest, your hips jerk, the world tipping sideways. Your body shakes against the seat, and still—you drive, barely holding it together as ecstasy crashes through you like fire through gasoline.

Seung-Hyun watches, eyes blown wide, lips parted like he wants to devour you.

He pulls his fingers back slowly, deliberately, then slides them between his lips, tasting you with a groan.

"Fuck. You taste like danger."

You’re panting, knuckles white on the wheel.

"Told you," he says with that smug, ruined smirk. "I could handle it."

You glance at him, voice hoarse. "And what if I’m not done yet?"

His smile is all hunger. "Then don’t stop, baby. The night’s still ours."

You don’t stop driving till the sky starts bleeding into dawn.

You park on a secluded overlook above the city, where the skyline glows like scattered embers beneath the early light. The engine ticks as it cools, the only sound now the wind whispering past the car and the sharpness of your still-unsteady breathing. You stare straight ahead, hands still gripping the wheel, heart refusing to calm down.

Seung-Hyun watches you in silence, like you’re the aftermath of a wreck he never wants to walk away from.

He finally speaks—low, intimate, dangerous. "You always did like playing with fire. But damn… you just set the city on fire with me inside it."

You slowly release the steering wheel and turn to face him. Your legs are still shaking, body hot and buzzing, and your voice is husky when you reply, "Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy every second."

He leans in, closing the last few inches between you, fingers brushing your jaw. "Oh, I did. I still am. But it’s not enough."

"What more do you want, Seung-Hyun?" you ask, defiant but breathless.

He brushes his lips just barely over yours, not kissing—just tasting your anticipation. "Everything. All of it. The speed. The fury. The way you come undone and try to pretend it didn’t ruin you. I want to see you break again. This time, slow."

Your breath catches, your lips part, and this time, you don’t hesitate. You kiss him like the road’s still racing beneath you—hard, hungry, a crash you both welcome.

And Seoul keeps sleeping beneath you, unaware the city’s most dangerous pair just ignited again—high above, in the heat and shadows of the coming morning.

But the fire between your legs, and the storm he lit inside you? That still burns under your skin.

By the time you reach your apartment, the sun’s just brushing the city’s edges with gold. The streets are quiet, Seoul still half-asleep, but your blood is awake—thrumming with aftershocks.

You unlock the door and let it creak open. Seung-Hyun follows you in without asking, without hesitation, his eyes raking over the space like he’s been here in dreams but forgot how real it feels. The scent of oil, leather, and something sweet clings to the air—burnt coffee, maybe. Old engine grease. You.

He closes the door behind him with a soft click. And just like that, the tension coils again—hotter in this silence than it was under the roar of your engine.

You toss your keys on the counter and kick off your boots. His gaze follows every movement, like he's cataloging them. Memorizing.

"This is where you hide?" he murmurs, voice lower now, raspier.

"This is where I breathe," you reply, peeling off your jacket, revealing skin still flushed from the night. "Where I remember I'm not always a weapon."

He steps closer, deliberate, his hands finding your hips like they belong there. "You’re still a weapon. Just… sheathed."

You smirk. "Not for long, if you keep touching me like that."

His eyes burn into yours. "That’s the idea."

Then he kisses you again. Not like in the car—not rushed, not desperate. This is slower, deeper. All tongue and teeth and tension melting into want. His fingers find your spine, pulling you against him until there’s no space left to breathe. Until you forget what silence even feels like.

Clothes peel away between kisses—wet, heated, hungry kisses that drag over skin like they’ve both been waiting years to happen. His jacket hits the floor with a heavy thud. Yours slides down your arms as his hands roam beneath it, rough palms mapping the curve of your waist. Your back finds the wall, and then the hallway, and then he’s walking you backward toward your bedroom like he's reclaiming territory.

When your shoulder hits the doorframe, he pauses, breath heavy, lips swollen. His eyes rake down your half-naked form with a slow hunger.

"You look at me like I’m the danger," he rasps.

You grin, breathless. "You are. But I’m worse."

His chuckle is dark, primal. "Prove it."

You push him, hard. He stumbles back just enough for you to grab his shirt and drag him over the threshold. The door kicks shut behind him. You press him against it, straddling him the moment his back hits the wood. His hands grip your ass like he's starving.

"You want it rough?" he growls.

"I want it real."

He flips you effortlessly, caging you between his body and the door now, one thigh slipping between yours as his mouth finds your neck—biting, sucking, claiming. You moan shamelessly, grinding against him, your nails digging into his shoulders through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"Fuck, I missed this mouth," he mutters, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip before replacing it with his tongue. "Always so smart until I fuck the words out of you."

You tug his belt open, smirking into the kiss. "Then shut up and do it."

The rest of your clothes hit the floor in a trail of want. He lays you back on the bed like he’s worshipping a sin he’s about to commit. His fingers trace your ribs, your hips, before sliding down and finding you again.

"Still dripping," he murmurs. "You stayed wet for me this whole time, didn’t you?"

"Maybe I just wanted to feel you ruin me twice in one night."

His groan is guttural.

And when he finally slides inside—slow, thick, stretching you with unbearable heat—you gasp his name like it’s the only thing you’ve ever prayed to. He moves hard, deep, every thrust designed to make you remember just how dangerous he really is.

"You feel that? That’s mine now," he growls against your ear. "You take me like you were made for it."

Your body arches beneath him. "Then fucking claim it."

He does.

His hips slam into yours with relentless rhythm, each thrust angled just right, designed to split you open in the best way possible. His grip on your thighs is bruising, possessive—like he's trying to carve his name into your skin with every movement. The headboard thuds against the wall in time with his pace, sharp and constant, but you barely hear it over the ragged, broken sounds you're both making.

"Look at you," he grits out, sweat dripping from his temple as he leans over you, one hand pressed to the mattress beside your head, the other sliding down your body. "Taking me like you’ve been starving for it. Like you can’t breathe unless I’m inside you."

You gasp, legs locking around his waist, dragging him deeper. "You think you ruined me? Baby, I’ve been wrecked since you walked into that garage."

He growls—low, possessive—and slaps your thigh before gripping it tighter, angling your hips upward. You cry out, the pleasure sharp and devastating. He doesn't let you recover, doesn’t give you a second of mercy. His cock hits a spot inside you that makes you keen, your nails clawing down his back.

"Say it," he hisses. "Say who owns this pussy."

"You," you moan, desperate. "Fuck—it's yours. You own it."

He bites your shoulder, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to claim. "Damn right I do. And I’m not done yet."

He pulls out almost all the way, slow and torturous, then slams back in so hard the bed shakes. You scream—pure pleasure—and his hand covers your mouth, muffling you as he thrusts harder, faster, deeper.

"Too loud, baby," he whispers hot against your cheek. "Wouldn’t want the whole building to know how wrecked I’ve got you. Or maybe you’d like that. You want them to hear how dirty you sound when I fuck you like this?"

Your eyes roll back, body arching. He feels you tighten around him, feels your climax building again.

"That’s it. Cum for me. Messy and loud. Let me feel it. Let me hear how good I make you feel."

You shatter. Harder than before. Your entire body convulses under him, back bowing, mouth open in a silent cry that breaks into gasping moans as he fucks you through it.

He curses, low and feral, losing rhythm for a heartbeat as your walls pulse around him. He grabs your hips, holding you in place as he chases his own release, each thrust growing sloppier, needier, more desperate.

Then he spills into you with a growl, head dropping to your neck, body shaking with the force of it.

You lie there, tangled and sweat-slick, your chests heaving together like you’ve run miles. He doesn’t pull out right away—just stays there, buried deep, breathing you in.

"Still think you’re worse than me?" he murmurs, lips brushing your collarbone.

You smirk, voice hoarse. "No. I know I am."

He laughs, soft and low, before rolling to the side and dragging you with him.

Neither of you say anything else. You don’t need to.

The way he holds you afterward says it all.

The silence that follows isn’t empty—it’s full. Full of everything you never said, every night he was away, every second you spent pretending he didn’t haunt your bones. He brushes your damp hair from your face, gently now, his fingers trembling just slightly as if the calm is harder to survive than the chaos.

You exhale slowly, your cheek resting on his chest. "You leave tomorrow, don’t you?"

There’s a beat. And another.

Then, quietly, "Yeah."

It shouldn’t sting. But it does. You nod, tracing lazy circles over his ribs, grounding yourself in the heat of his skin. "You always come back."

"Because you’re here. And you never make me ask for forgiveness."

You pull back enough to meet his eyes—dark, tired, open in a way few people ever get to see. "Do you want it? Forgiveness?"

He’s quiet again, then presses his forehead to yours. "I want you. In whatever fucked up, impossible way this keeps working. I want the part of me that only shows up in this room. With you."

Your throat tightens. You swallow it down. "It’s not perfect."

"No," he murmurs, kissing your eyelid. "It’s better. It’s real."

Your fingers drift up his chest, curl into the chain around his neck. You hold it. Hold him. "Don’t make me miss you longer than I have to."

His arm wraps tighter around you. "Then don’t let go."

And for that moment—messy, breathless, vulnerable—you don’t.

Taglist: @redhoodedtoad @mirahyun @sherrayyyyy @sherxoo @dilfismz @breakmeoff @janie-osuih @forevervibezzzz1 @kuinnoa @juliskopf @maskedcrawford @szonyix6277

[comatosebunny09]

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS

leon being the annoying golden retriever blond to sylus's black cat is so fjeiwfjioewjfiogier

i think leon should show up to her door with muffins as a welcome gift. you know to welcome her to the neighbourhood (and definitely not because he saw her cool ass bike in the driveway and had to know who it belonged to)

meanwhile i think sylus should send mephisto and the twins to check in on her (and figure out who the fuck that blond is lmaoooo)

Maaaaaan, I could muse about this for daaaayyyys!

Baking isn’t Leon’s forte, so he stops by the local bakery to grab you a variety pack of muffins to welcome you to this sleepy, quiet town. You’re new—you don’t know where all the good spots are yet. You probably won’t even notice he didn’t make ‘em.

The muffins are really an excuse to be nosy. Leon was half-awake in the wee hours of the morning when he heard your motorcycle purring in the driveway next door. That house had been empty for a while. Of course, he was interested to see who bagged it.

And, of course, being a motorcycle connoisseur himself, he wanted to get a good look at your bike. Not many people rode around here. Who knows—maybe you could waste your weekends riding together, bonding over a beer or two.

He expects some hulking man with money to blow to answer the door after he rings your doorbell. Maybe ex-military or an agent like him, laying low. But he’s stumped when he shifts his gaze down, and you’re there instead. Quiet, delicate, smelling like flowers—all the stereotypical shit.

He suddenly feels self-conscious on your porch, holding a tray of muffins, shifting his weight between his feet, smiling crooked and awkward. You definitely don’t look like someone from this side of the planet. Like you should be modeling, singing, dancing, giving men a run for their money.

You break the tense silence with a soft, “Hello,” and Leon feels like the Earth’s spinning away from him. Gorgeous, and you have the audacity to sound like that? Double kill.

He’s suddenly forgotten how to speak, his tongue heavy in his mouth as he hands you the tray of muffins with a constipated, half-smile. You laugh something bewitching, stepping onto your porch to meet him properly with a handshake.

This has the makings of an interesting acquaintanceship.

—

Meanwhile, tucked away in Onychinus’ base in his study, Sylus sits behind his desk, contemplative, tapping the tips of his fingers together.

Luke and Kieran stand in good form on the other side, shoulders set, lips tight, heads held high. Something’s on the boss-man’s mind. Something that’s been furrowing his brows and making him mutter incomprehensible things under his breath. He’s been out of it for a while, not completely present. The twins narrowed the change in behavior down to one pivotal shift in the organization's dynamic.

“You wanted to see us?” asks Kieran in an attempt to dispel the pressure in the room.

Sylus’ gaze snaps to him. Both boys pipe up like they’re about to be scolded by an irate parent.

Sylus sighs something weighted, sitting up in his seat. “Yes,” he drawls, “I need one of you for a critical mission. I don’t care who it is,” he says, sounding exhausted, waving his hand dismissively. “You can play rock-paper-scissors for all I care. Just…pick.”

Must be something really pressing if it’s got the boss looking like he hasn’t slept in decades.

In the end, because they kept reaching a draw—stupid singular twin braincell—Sylus ships both of them off under the pretense of “vacationing” to keep an eye out for his favorite little femme fatale who slipped between his fingers without so much as a goodbye. 

[elizaaudreyy]

Todd's Girl, Their Boss (Pt. One)

Pairing: Todd Stevens x female!oc Word Count: 439

The KNA house always had a particular smell after summer break - a mix of stale pizza, cheap cologne, and despair. As the guys filed back in, carrying duffel bags and boxes, the familiar chaos resumes. Todd Stevens rolled up last, dragging in a suitcase that wasn't even his.

"Why're you carrying her stuff?" Mitch asked, eyeing the floral-patterned luggage.

Todd grinned. "Because she's moving in."

Tom. who'd just shoved a couch cushion out of the kitchen doorway blinked. "She who?"

"Mariah."

The room froze. Tom dropped the cushion. Mitch's Red Bull cracked open slower than usual. From the upstairs hallway, someone muttered "Oh, shit."

Mariah Cole, Todd' girlfriend, former cheer captain, 5' 4" of pure command and chaos, had become a bit of a myth over the last year. Smart, terrifying, hot - she could silence a frat party with a look and had once made a Sigma Chi guy cry by correcting his grammar mid-argument.

And now she was here. Living. In the KNA house.

"She cleared it with the board," Todd added, as if that'd calm the hurricane of testosterone and insecurity already spinning through the room. "Said she's using the year to finish her thesis on the behavioral dynamics of male-dominated group housing."

"So we're her thesis?" Tom asked.

Todd shrugged. "Basically."

Mariah arrived five minutes later.

Wearing bike shorts and an oversized hoodie with "KNA PROPERTY" ironed on the back, she sauntered in like she'd always lived there. Her nails were red. Her coffee was iced. Her gaze was unforgiving.

“Tom,” she said, not even looking up from her phone. “There’s mold on the upstairs bathroom ceiling. You’re the tallest. Fix it.”

Tom opened his mouth. Closed it. Then muttered, “Yeah. Okay.”

“Mitch,” she said sweetly. “I saw your room when I visited last spring. If you’re living like that again, I’m buying you a Roomba and naming it your replacement.”

“Yes ma’am,” Mitch said stunned.

By the end of day one, Mariah had restructured the entire trash schedule, created a shared Google Calendar that included a hydration reminders, and enforced a strict “no shirtless gaming in common areas” policy - which somehow even Kyle, the most shirtless of them all, didn’t fight.

That night, as they gathered in the living room, silently watching her direct the rearrangement of the living room furniture (while Todd followed behind her like a loyal golden retriever), Tom levers toward Mitch and whispered, “She’s the president now. Not Todd. It’s her.”

Mitch nodded solemnly. “We live in Mariah’s house now.”

Todd, beaming with pride as Mariah barked orders at a freshman pledging about coasters and boundaries, didn’t seem to mind at all.

[moonshynecybin]

meee i love vale i really truly do, 2004 forever one of my fav season to rewatch, and i love giving him grace cause that’s really the only fun way to engage with the whole dynamic (his dad, sic, marc is no saint and is indeed crazy etc) but like those bikes were on marc’s shelf. and he was 22. we can spin it how we want but he did release the italian media hounds on 22 year old marc who still went to sleep under 30-40 valentino mini bikes! and i think you handle this sooo well in your posts like in any au setting i’m always like “yup they’re both flawed and yet there is a Villian here!”

(and sidenote but i like that you’re firm on sepang 2015 cause a couple weeks ago there was a weird shift here where i think people overcompensated a bit too hard and i’ve seen more than one post along the lines of “maybe vale had a point”) (i blame lorenzo for this tho)

i do try to come at with some nuance (marc wasnt racing like an angel and wasnt handling his failures like an angel etc) but then i think about the line of toy vale bikes in his childhood bedroom that he collected throughout 2013, and how the only book on marc's stupid shelf was a vale book (love conquers illiteracy <3), and how vale incited a media backlash against marc that got him death threats for literal years and caused him to lock down large facets of his personality in public at the age he shouldve been idk. graduating college if he did that sort of thing. and then im like should we KILL this guy chappell roan

[chaos-chloe]

Clooless Queen

Summary: In the vibrant world of the Clooless Podcast, the air was electric with excitement. Grizzy, Puffer, Droid, and Pezzy were bustling around, their chatter filled with laughter and enthusiasm as they set the stage for their latest adventure. This time, it wasn't just about banter; it was about showcasing their newly dropped merch, and who better to model it than their very own Clooless Queen?

TW: play flirting

The day began with a spin on the bikes. Clad in the latest colorful jackets emblazoned with quirky designs and the iconic Clooless logo, I hopped onto my bike, the wind whipping through my hair. Grizzy captured the moment, snapping a pic as I zoomed past him, striking a pose mid-pedal with a playful grin. 

Next, it was Pezzy’s turn. With a cheeky grin, he offered me a ride on his custom bike, adorned with every sticker imaginable. I climbed on, laughing as the bike wobbled playfully beneath us. Grizzy caught a shot of us zooming around, a dynamic duo resembling a scene straight out of a cartoon. 

Then came the iconic “Clooless Koala Bear” moment. I playfully hopped onto Droid's back while he pretended to be massively burdened, stumbling around while everyone else erupted in guttural laughter. "Look at the Clooless Queen taking her royal ride," Puffer joked, camera in hand to immortalize our fun-filled moments. I felt like the star of a sensational circus act, draped in Clooless gear, cheerful as can be.

The laughter crescendoed as we moved to the arcade. My competitive spirit came alive; we challenged each other to a heated showdown in a retro arcade game. With the pixels flashing before my eyes, I knocked out the highest score, echoing cheers from the crew. “Clooless Queen strikes again!” Droid yelled, tossing a high five my way. 

And just when I thought the day couldn't get any better, we all gathered for a collective photo shoot, the sun setting behind us casting golden light over our shenanigans. Puffer, trying to flirt in his own unique way, declared, “With you wearing those Clooless threads, the world better get ready to recognize the Clooless Queen,” making everyone laugh endlessly at his charming offbeat bravado.

The playful banter continued as we struck poses for the camera. I felt like a celebrity, flaunting the merch with each exaggerated flourish—twists, jumps, and mock runway walks. The vibrant colors of our jackets popped against the pastel hues of the sunset, as if we were a walking canvas of joy. 

As the freezing frames captured our animated expressions, Pezzy leaned in closer and whispered, “Seriously, though—no one wears those threads quite like you do. You bring the hype in a whole new way!” The sincerity behind his playful words made my heart swell; I could feel the warmth of their appreciation wrapping around me like one of those cozy cloaks from our merch line.

[izanacore]

“casual” | manjiro sano x reader

chapter twelve 𓂃⋆.˚

synopsis: a no-strings-attached arrangement between a party girl and a frat boy turns messy when mikey falls first. but when (y/n) runs from love, she loses him for good—until fate brings them back together, years too late.

characters: manjiro “mikey” sano, fem!reader, emma sano, ken “draken” ryuguji, ran haitani

warnings: angst, heartbreak, fwb dynamics, explicit content, crack, fluff, jealousy, insecurities, themes of regret, alcohol use, violence, bullying, depression

notes: fun is over. pack it up. we’re going angsty now.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

chapter twelve

emma ended up staying the whole day, claiming she had to make sure y/n looked perfect for their hangout. eventually, she just texted draken and mikey to pick them up from y/n’s apartment instead.

while waiting, the two got ready together, doing each other’s makeup and hyping each other up like they were about to step onto a red carpet.

y/n slipped into a beautiful, sexy sundress that hugged her in all the right places, while emma rocked a floral-patterned off-shoulder top and a skirt. both of them looked too pretty. y/n even had small flower clips in her hair—emma’s doing, of course.

then, the sound of motorcycles pulling up outside had them both rushing to the door.

when they stepped outside, draken and mikey were already there, but… they weren’t saying anything.

draken had immediately spotted emma, a small smirk forming as he approached her. “you look nice,” he said smoothly, pulling her into a hug. emma grinned and hugged him back.

but mikey?

mikey was still sitting on his bike. staring.

y/n tilted her head. “…manjiro?”

nothing.

it was the first time he’d seen her in something like this. she usually wore mini skirts, tight long dresses that showed off her curves—but this? this was different. she looked so elegant, so soft, the delicate flower clips in her hair making her look almost unreal.

emma, watching the whole thing, smirked. “mikey, y/n’s gonna melt if you keep staring like that.”

“huh?” mikey blinked, snapping out of it.

draken snorted. “never seen you this down bad, man.”

mikey glared at him, but the damage was already done.

y/n walked up to him with a playful smile. “so… how do i look?” she did a little spin, the skirt of her dress twirling with her.

mikey just stared for a second longer before exhaling. “you look beautiful.” then, a little more serious, he added, “no. divine. you look divine.”

y/n let out a soft chuckle. “silly.”

mikey rolled his eyes but reached for the extra helmet, gently placing it over her head. “you sure you’re okay riding with a dress?”

y/n nodded. “yep, it’s fine.”

mikey smirked. “good. then let’s go, pretty girl.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

the ride to the amusement park was peaceful.

y/n had her arms wrapped around mikey’s waist, her chin resting lightly on his shoulder as the wind rushed past them.

she remembered the first time she rode his bike. how freeing it felt. how, for the first time in a long time, she had felt at peace.

she thought that would be the last time. she thought it was just a one-time thing. but no. here she was, feeling peaceful again. and it was always with mikey. just like every other night spent with him.

it was the longest stretch of peace she had felt in years.

which was weird because if there was anyone in the world who should bring her peace, she was pretty damn sure it wouldn’t have been manjiro sano.

but here she was. with him.

when they arrived at the amusement park, they went straight to the photobooth first, taking pictures together and making silly poses. each of them got a copy before tucking it away safely. it didn’t take long for y/n and emma to demand teddy bears from the prize booths. which, of course, meant sending the two to win them.

draken and mikey took on the challenge with full confidence… and then failed miserably.

emma sighed, watching another one of mikey’s failed attempts. “god, you two suck at these games.”

mikey huffed, crossing his arms. “then why don’t you do it yourself?”

emma just rolled her eyes before grabbing draken’s arm. “come on, draken.”

and just like that, she dragged him away, leaving y/n and mikey alone.

“so… what do you wanna do next?” mikey asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

y/n’s eyes lit up. “how about the roller coaster?”

mikey didn’t even hesitate. “no.”

“c’mon, please?” she pouted.

mikey sighed dramatically. “okay, but i need to get something out of this before i get on that fucking roller coaster.”

y/n narrowed her eyes. “what is it?”

mikey grinned like a damn kid. “blowjob later.”

“manjiro!?!” she gasped and immediately facepalmed.

mikey just shrugged. “okay, then no roller coaster.”

y/n groaned. “whatever.” and then she grabbed his wrist and started dragging him to the roller coaster booth.

mikey smirked. “thought so.” he won this round.

…or so he thought.

now he was really close to puking.

“god, manjiro!” y/n cackled, holding onto the railing while he tried to gather what was left of his dignity. “i didn’t know the fearless leader of toman can’t handle a little roller coaster.”

mikey glared at her. “shut up. did you see how fucking high that was?”

y/n rolled her eyes. “don’t be so dramatic.” then, before he could argue, she grabbed his arm and pulled him along.

as they walked, her eyes landed on a nearby stand. “ooh, i want cotton candy!”

mikey barely had time to react before she was already at the booth, excitedly pointing at the biggest one. he pulled out his wallet, paying for it without a second thought.

they wandered over to a quieter part of the park, y/n happily nibbling on her cotton candy.

“manjiro, have a taste! this is really good.” she held out a fluffy piece toward him.

mikey smirked, leaning in and taking a bite straight from her fingers. he chewed thoughtfully before grinning. “hmm… it tastes good.” then, leaning a little closer, he added, “but not as good as you.”

y/n smacked his arm lightly. “ugh, shut up.”

mikey just chuckled and pulled out his phone. “come here, i wanna take a pic of you.”

y/n perked up. “okay!” she struck a cute pose, holding up her cotton candy with a little smile.

mikey snapped the photo, nodding in satisfaction. “there. look, you’re so pretty.”

y/n peeked at his screen. “nooo, take another one!”

mikey sighed but did as she asked, taking a series of photos, each one capturing her different expressions—some cute, some silly, some mid-laugh.

soon, they were scrolling through his gallery, arguing over which one was best.

until—

“y/n?”

someone had just called her name.

she froze.

still not looking. still not breathing.

but that voice—that sickeningly familiar voice—sent her mind spiraling back to a time she wanted to forget.

slowly, she looked up.

ran haitani.

her ex-boyfriend.

the one who forced her to leave roppongi. forced her to leave her father behind. forced her to abandon the life she once had.

ran haitani—the man who broke her into pieces.

and she was still picking up the shards to this day.

“y/n,” ran greeted, his voice infuriatingly casual, like he wasn’t the reason she lost everything. “how have you been?”

mikey felt her tense up, her fingers gripping his shirt so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

y/n said nothing. her throat tightened, her body rigid. fear and anger clashed inside her, making her feel sick.

mikey’s eyes flickered between her and ran before he spoke. “you’re ran haitani, right? from roppongi?”

ran smirked. “uh, yes. and you’re manjiro sano? leader of toman, right?”

mikey nodded.

y/n’s gaze shifted to the girl clinging onto ran’s arm. poor thing. she was probably his next victim.

ran’s eyes returned to y/n. “didn’t know your boyfriend was manjiro sano.”

before mikey could correct him, y/n spoke first—her voice cold and cutting.

“yeah. he is.”

mikey blinked. huh?

before he could process that, y/n added, “and we were just about to go to the ferris wheel, so if you’ll excuse us…”

she grabbed mikey’s wrist and moved past ran—only to be stopped when ran grabbed hers.

“can we catch up soon?” ran asked, his grip light, almost casual, like he had every right to touch her. “i think we have a lot to talk about.”

mikey noticed.

the way ran touched her so familiarly. the way y/n froze under his grasp.

before mikey could call him out, y/n snatched her wrist back. “i’ll see if i’m free,” she muttered, then hurriedly dragged mikey away.

they reached the ferris wheel in tense silence, stepping into the cabin. the door closed.

no one spoke.

the air inside felt heavy.

mikey noticed her hands trembling slightly. without thinking, he reached out, lacing their fingers together.

her head was bowed.

“y/n?” mikey asked gently. “is something wrong? you seemed tense when you saw ran haitani. do you… know each other?”

she finally looked up at him—eyes glossy with unshed tears.

mikey’s chest tightened.

“hey,” he whispered, “why are you upset, baby?”

and then she broke.

she buried her face in his chest, her quiet sobs muffled against his shirt.

mikey held her close, running his fingers through her hair. “shh… it’s okay. i’m here.”

it took a while, but she finally calmed down. she pulled away slightly, but mikey still held her hand, keeping her grounded.

“sorry, manjiro,” she mumbled. “i ruined our hangout.”

mikey shook his head immediately. “no, no. you didn’t ruin anything.” he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “can you tell me what’s on your mind?”

he wanted to ask. he wanted to know.

but if she wasn’t ready to talk, he wouldn’t pry.

y/n hesitated, then whispered, “ran haitani… he’s my ex-boyfriend. the only boyfriend i ever had.”

mikey froze.

ran haitani? her boyfriend?

since when? how?

it didn’t make sense. they were too different. not even the same age, not even the same type. mikey knew y/n well enough to know she wouldn’t just fall for someone like ran.

and then—

it clicked.

last night, she mentioned she left roppongi.

she lived there before.

mikey pieced it together. maybe that’s how they met. maybe that’s why—

“manjiro?” y/n’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

he blinked. “yes, baby?”

her voice was small when she said, “ran haitani… he’s the reason why i left home. he…”

and then she told him everything.

how he took advantage of her vulnerability. how he manipulated her kindness. how he made her feel small.

mikey clenched his fists. “but your dad’s a lawyer, right? how the fuck is that bastard still walking free? does your dad even know what happened?”

y/n shook her head. “no. i didn’t want to burden papa. mama had just died a few months before it happened… he was already suffering. i didn’t want to add more to his pain.” she looked down. “and… i was vulnerable. i made mistakes too. i let ran in at my weakest. so it’s… partly my fault.”

mikey snapped.

“that’s not your fucking fault.” his voice was firm, his fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms.

y/n noticed.

without thinking, she reached forward and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“manjiro… i’m okay now. don’t worry,” she whispered. “nothing can break me anymore, right? you’re here with me.”

she smiled softly and pressed a small kiss to his lips.

mikey melted into it, but there was still a storm raging inside him.

he forced himself to smile back. he forced himself to nod.

but in his mind, there was only one thought.

ran haitani is not getting away with this.

chapter eleven | chapter thirteen

[tgmsunmontue]

You need to learn how to fall 4/10

Hangster (and IceMav) - Bradley is too tall to be a naval aviator and instead becomes a sky diver, specialising in spin recovery. He is a civilian contractor to the Air Force and Navy to teach pilots how to survive parachute spins from ejections. A more in-depth version of this post.

PROLOGUE 2003-2006 2007-2010

2011-2015 – The later years

                He’s approached about doing his doctorate and he does a double-take, reading through the email again. They’ll pay him a stipend, as well as his study costs, and his travel to a variety of free fall simulators around the world in order to carry out research. It seems too good to be true, so he reads through it carefully. And then again. It’s specifically for military freefall (MFF), which includes both high altitude low opening (HALO) and high altitude high opening (HAHO) operations. They’re versatile techniques used by Special Forces and Bradley is already familiar with the Free Fall Analysis and Simulation Tool (FAST). He’d be building on the work already undertaken, further developing understanding of dynamics of MFF and spin recovery.

                Holy shit.

                Holy.

                Fucking.

                Shit.

                He prints it off the email and contract that came as an attachment and takes it to show Ice and Mav, wants them to look it over incase he’s missed something. Is quiet while they read through it, Ice reading over Mav’s shoulder.

                “Do you want to go back and study?”

                “I hadn’t thought about it to be honest. But this would be so cool…”

                “It’s not here, but sounds like they’re flexible around location. And would pay for your travel and accommodation. This is a very generous offer…” Ice says, and his eyes are narrowed and he looks suspicious; Bradley knows then that he’s going to find a catch. He knew it was going to be too good to be true.

                “Your name needs to stay on the research. Any papers they publish in the future, they need to reference you by your name, not the funder of the study. Add a clause that states until you have, say, twenty publications, you remain a key contributor.”

                Bradley hadn’t thought that was a big deal, but he shrugs, guesses Ice knows better than him.

                “That’s assuming you want to go into research and doing this for something other than just… for the fun of it?” Ice says, his tone shifting and Bradley realizes that he was maybe reading it as if he himself was going to do it and why would Ice want to be involved… It’s then that he realizes that he could potentially save lives with research. Knowing how to fall out of plane, work a chute, get out of a spin fast, land. Those are all skills that you can learn, that’s he’s learnt, is busy perfecting and practicing as much as he can.

                “Yeah. This would be great to do too.”

…             …             …

                Tom stares at the press release, the word CONFIDENTIAL stamped through as a watermark. His hands shake a little before he catches it and stills them. He can marry Maverick. Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is being repealed. After tomorrow his proposal of a year and a half ago could actually mean a wedding. He doesn’t want a wedding, not really. What he wants is to be married to Pete, and not have his career suffer for it. Although he’s definitely decided to fuck off and leave the Navy if they have a problem with him and his life with Pete. There are some things more important than the Navy, and while it may have taken him a few years to realize it, his cancer had been a good reminder. He pushes back from his desk and goes to find the man in question, of course in the garage tinkering on the one bike Tom lets him keep at the house. If he didn’t place limits their place would resemble a junkyard.

                “I love you…” he says, and it’s quiet words and Pete immediately looks to him, grinning and abandoning whatever it is he’s working on, wiping his hands on a rag and stepping in close.

                “I love you too… what brought this on? Empty house?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, like Bradley being away somehow offers more freedom when he has a completely separate

                “Hmm,” he hums, noncommittal. “If we could get married tomorrow what would you want?”

                “Uh… what do you mean?”

                “Lots of people? Us in our dress whites? Flowers? Big sit-down meal?” Tom asks, thinking about the weddings he’s been to.

                “Uh… what? What’s wrong? Why are you asking me this? Ice? Tom…?”

                He realizes then that Pete thinks that maybe the cancer is back and he shakes his head.

                “I’m perfectly healthy, and I’ll prove it to you later. Just let me dream…”

                “What would you want?”

                “Just us and Bradley, maybe Slider and his family. Quiet and not a big fuss.”

                “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

…             …             …

                His first time in a free fall simulator is fun for the novelty aspect. It’s nothing like actual skydiving but the amount of data they can collect is immense, and he gets to try out some risky moves he wouldn’t actually ever attempt in the air. It’s exhilarating when some of them pay off and sobering when they don’t. Working with people who find skydiving as exhilarating and as interesting as he does is a separate thrill and results in his first long-term serious relationship. She’s whip-crack smart, challenges his ideas and best of all she gets on with both Mav and Ice. When they end things after nearly three years they remain friends.

…             …             …

                Pete watches Bradley walk across the stage to accept his doctorate and claps until his hands are red and painful. Grins at Ice, brushes his fingers over the platinum band on Ice’s ring finger in his silent way of saying I love you.

                “Our son is a doctor of skydiving…”

                “No. He has a doctorate in physics. There is a difference.”

                “Doctor of skydiving sounds cooler…”

PROLOGUE TAKE 2 - 2016 onwards (NEXT PART)

[nowforthefunpart]

Let's try this again

Whenever I start a new habit or commitment during vacation, the first week back to reality is always sobering. Last week was a bit of a train wreck: work was horrendous; other personal obligations I have took so much more time than I expected; my exercise was non-existent, I ate my feelings and drank some of them too. The week, from a health commitment standpoint, was an epic fail. Sigh.

So nothing to do but start again. I got to the gym this morning and did a cycle class. Go me! Here's the cool email confirmation my club sends with a recap of my stats for the class:

It was so incredibly nice to be in a class rather than sitting on a spin bike by myself with my AirPods in watching a Youtube spin class on video. I definitely enjoy the group energy. I actually worked out less intensely in this class than when I'm on my own, but the enjoyment level being in class made up for it ten times over.

Work this week should be better/easier, so I'm going to try to restart my commitments to exercise and eating cleaner. This week I will also give my retirement notice to my boss and HR. It will be interesting to see how the dynamic at work changes after the notice. I'm excited but also a little nervous about how the next few weeks will go.

[itspupppycat]

On my sims agenda today I will be bulldozing all the lots in Sulani and replacing them with builds from the gallery. I’ll probably attempted to build the house for the sims I will be playing with in that world but that will be for another day. If I’m not tired from all of that I will probably start refreshing the townies and making changes to some of their dynamics to fit my queer narrative for this save.

Can we talk about how much I really just want to pose Tasha and spin Tasha around in CAS?? I may have made a new sim to obsess over but I have to remain focused on the goal which is to build up the ultimate queer save.

I actually need to remember to add the pride cc I collected from last year to the mod folder so I can really queer things up. I see a leather daddy in my future, maybe even a whole bike gang kind of situation. Oh maybe the werewolf collectives are different bike gangs, one is exclusively gay men and the other is open to all queer sims. I need to add that to my notes.

[rozaceous]

the time being had is of ambiguous quality, but we're certainly here

(ttbh for abbreviation purposes)

below the cut is the scene i wrote as gift fic for @vermillioncrown as a spin-off of our collab 'we're here for a good time, not a long time,' which we've hinted around in previous posts. (we were talking abt our beef w kidfic and this happened.) abt 1.7k words

to re-cap, general premise is that allie and korvin got de-aged in their respective universes, have to camp out in canon-verse for a little while as things settle down at home. whfagt events were abt six months prior.

Allie doesn’t think it’s unreasonable that when the very beautiful man who told her to call him Conner attempts to set her down amongst a group of vigilantes that she’s been assured are an alternate universe version of her family—and whom older her has apparently visited before?—she tightens her grip on his t-shirt and her knees around his hip.

The even more (somehow?) beautiful man who is first to approach them makes her hide her face in Conner’s shoulder because he’s so nauseatingly good-looking. Well, it’s a combo of that and people staring at her in general. Is everyone stupidly pretty here?

Someone makes a cooing noise.

“Jason filled us in,” says the Even More Beautiful Man. “This is Allie?”

His voice is all cheerful-gentle and Allie hates it, she does not want this man paying her his undivided attention, it’s mortifying, it’s even worse than when Duke and Jason had had to calm her down from a panic attack a few hours ago and had treated her with kid gloves and looked at her like she was the saddest, wettest kitten out in the rain.

But part of what he says makes her perk up, and she looks around the cave which is apparently called the Batcave because everyone sucks at naming things. “Jason?”

Conner snorts. “The more things change…”

“—I just don’t think it makes sense to leave me in an alternate universe with people I don’t know,” comes a child’s voice, only barely petulant, and Allie’s distracted from her search. “Can’t I be protected at—home? Don’t you have superpowers?”

“Yeah, but you’re extra squishy human right now, Korv,” says a fond-sounding Conner. A Conner who is not her Conner, or at least not the one holding her. It’s a Conner carrying a little boy piggy-back who looks about her age, walking down a set of stairs. Hm. She had gotten flown in through an entrance directly into the cave. It had been really cool.

“And the true dynamic duo is reunited,” mutters another pretty boy, trailing behind. He catches Allie’s eye and smiles.

Allie wants to die. Just how many beautiful people’s company can she be expected to endure?

“Reunited?” Allie redirects her attention. She looks at the little boy who looks back at her with equal discernment, and doesn’t recognize him though the preternatural canniness is viscerally familiar. “We’ve met?”

The Even More Beautiful Man clears his throat. “You and Korvin met the last time you were both in this universe, Allie.” He sounds slightly constipated. Unfortunately, it doesn’t diminish his charm.

“Yeah, and now it’s something something, latent agents of chaos and order, multiversal shenanigans never letting up, achieving balance in the force,” says Korvin’s Conner. “Easiest if you and Allie are in the same place for the time being while the rest of us do clean up. You two even each other out, existentially speaking.”

“That’s a stupid explanation,” Korvin grumbles. He darts another look at Allie, scans the cave.

Anything his Conner might say in response is drowned out by the sound of a motorcycle engine echoing, and Allie’s attention is stolen by the figure on the bike, who, besides Conner, is the only one she recognizes thus far. Though that’s not saying much.

Jason—or this universe’s version of him, and wow this is all getting confusing—eyeballs her once he’s parked and takes his helmet off, hair mussed and a little sweaty. He gives a little wave. “Hey, Allie.”

“Hi,” she replies, and she can feel her cheeks reddening again. She turns away.

“No memories at all?” asks Jason in a tone of confirmation more than interrogation, and she’s not a hundred percent on who he’s talking to, but she decides it’s not her. Besides, he should already know this since her Jason is the one that initiated contact with him about her coming here.

Conner answers. “Nothing past the age she is now.” He rubs his hand on her back.

Time to lean in.

“I’m seven,” she announces in her best ‘I’m baby’ impression.

“Me too,” says Korvin.

“Fascinating,” says the pretty boy. “You had at least a ten year age gap last time.”

“So, this is a situation that is potentially hilarious, and I’d love to stick around for multiple reasons not even to do with the hilarity, but unfortunately there’s a time crunch.” Korvin’s Conner sounds genuinely apologetic.

“Ditto.” Conner is similarly regretful. “Believe me, I want to hang around, and you are wicked cute as a kid—” he directs this part at Allie “—but the universe-saving thing. Kind of pressing.”

“They’ll be safe here,” assures the oldest man in a gruff voice. He’s handsome, but in a dad kind of way where he looks like he needs a nap and a shave. Allie bets he gives really good hugs if you’re able to surprise one out of him.

“Hopefully less mayhem than last time,” says the Even More Beautiful Man with a laugh. “Admittedly not a high bar to clear, though.”

Everyone has been extremely vague about what had happened the last time Allie had universe-hopped, her Jason especially, and he had seemed to know the most. Maybe she’ll get some answers here.

“This is child abandonment, I’m pretty sure,” protests Korvin when his Conner detaches him and sets him down. His Conner winces deeply.

“I’ll be back, Korv,” he promises, crouched down to eye level and more serious than an adult making those kinds of promises to a kid usually is.

“Hm,” is all Korvin says.

“You too, now, Allie,” says her Conner. He’s wearing a reassuring expression. “Back soon.”

She doesn’t put up a fuss this time, though she feels a little silly standing there in the Wonder Woman t-shirt her Jason had given her—older-hers, apparently, and she swims in it even with the hem tied in a knot at her waist—and the jeans and shoes that had been hastily purchased in her home universe.

The two Conners eye each other, and then Korvin’s Conner says, “Good to know I can pull off a nose ring.”

Her Conner scoffs. “I can pull off anything.”

Korvin’s Conner grins. “It's true, I can.”

“See you in a bit, Allie.”

“Real soon, Korv.”

The two of them have some universe-traveling bracelet doohickey and vanish in short order, and Allie looks around the gathered inhabitants of the Batcave—seriously such a stupid name—and then at Korvin, who looks back at her, and, in unspoken agreement, they move closer to each other.

“I think this means we’re best friends now,” she says solemnly.

Korvin nods back with equal solemnity.

The Even More Beautiful Man squats down and smiles at them. “Either of you hungry?”

“Is Steph here?” Allie ignores him and peers around the cave for effect. ”Or Duke?”

“Steph and Duke?” Korvin asks her, also ignoring the Even More Beautiful Man.

“They're nice,” Allie informs him. ”And Steph's really pretty.”

The Even More Beautiful Man makes a noise in the back of his throat, apparently of confusion or dismay, because he quickly clears it and that noise is different. “Steph's wrapping some things up and Duke has class. He'll be back for dinner.”

“Oh.” Allie stops looking around. She still doesn't look at the Even More Beautiful Man; it'd be like looking at the sun if the sun wasn't an indifferent ball of burning gas and instead actively liked you.

“Who are you, anyway?” says Korvin to the Even More Beautiful Man, though Allie notices that he doesn't look at him straight on. Still. Respect.

The Even More Beautiful Man smiles again. “I'm Dick—”

Allie chokes, shares a frantic glance with Korvin.

“That's a bad word,” Korvin accuses instantly.

“I can't say that, I'll get in trouble,” Allie follows up.

“Are you trying to get us in trouble?”

“That's not nice.”

“You shouldn’t try and trick people.”

“I don’t like this.”

Korvin latches onto her hand; she squeezes back. They shuffle even closer to one another.

The pretty boy is clearly biting his cheek in order not to laugh, his face pinking. Dick—and not only is everyone pretty here, the bad names aren’t limited to places, apparently—just stares at them, shell-shocked.

“I—it’s not a bad word, my name is—Dick is short for Richard. It’s a nickname.” He sounds thoroughly lost.

“Sure, Mr Richard,” returns Korvin derisively.

The pretty boy loses it at the same time as Jason bursts into a full-on cackle and Dick’s expression turns to one of horror. Allie, trying not to observe everyone else laughing so that she doesn’t crack, manages instead to make eye contact with the old guy, who gives her the most subdued yet intense smile she’s ever seen, causing her to reflexively smile back.

“His name really is Dick,” the old guy says, subdued-amused. Wow, everything about this guy is subdued, but strictly in a lurking-under-the-surface kinda way. “I’m Bruce. Allie, you’ve met Jason. Korvin, you’ve met Tim. The others will be by eventually and we’ll do further introductions as needed.”

Smart, not offering up information until it’s immediately relevant. Also, paranoid. Allie notices Bruce noticing that she notices, and, judging by the grip on her hand, Korvin notices, too.

“Holy shit, this is great,” Jason wheezes.

“Language,” Tim wheezes back, setting them both off again.

With an air of trying to regain his equilibrium, Dick looks to her and Korvin, jokes, “What, you’re not going to reprimand Jason for using a bad word?”

Korvin scuffs his foot on the concrete, looking down, hand swinging in hers. “Not my business.”

Allie, feeling a little emboldened by the general good humor, interprets: “He’s not trying to make us say anything bad, so it’d be rude to reprimand.” Then, enunciating as clearly as possible, she continues, “And we have fucking manners.”

Even Dick loses the ability to hold it together in the face of such impeccable logic; he snorts loudly, claps a hand over his mouth.

Korvin grins and laughs, then, and Allie grins back.

[fitnessnirvana]

 WARM UP 

Warming up correctly (together with a good cool down after your workout) is one of the most crucial aspects in taking care of yourself on your fitness path. It's all too simple to skip stretching before a workout, but with so many incredible benefits, it should be regarded an exercise must-have that you never neglect. Learn more here.

What Is A Warm Up?

A warm-up is an important initial step in getting your body ready for physical exercise. Warm ups can take many forms, from pre-workout stretching to a brisk walk, but the process should gradually ease your body into exercise, gradually increasing your heart rate and getting your body moving in order to prepare for more intensive activity. Warm-ups are beneficial not only to fitness enthusiasts, but also to persons who rely on their voice for job or pleasure, such as singers, actors, and radio presenters.

The Benefits Of Warming Up: Why Is It Important?

Warming up has a variety of physical (and even psychological) benefits, but the primary goal is to prepare your body for more severe action. Warm-ups should raise your body's and muscles' temperatures, as well as your heart and respiratory rates. This helps your muscles by providing:

Increased blood flow

A boost of oxygen and nutrients

More flexibility and pliability

So, by gradually easing your muscles into exercise via a warm up, you ensure that they are in the best possible condition for more intense movements or exercise. This means you're less likely to be injured or experience aches and pains after your workout. Some studies have also found that warming up can increase your physical performance, allowing you to work out more effectively and with a wider range of motion.

What Is A Dynamic Warm Up?

You may be tempted to warm up with static stretches, but this is not the greatest strategy (though it is a great way to cool down after your workout). Dynamic stretches and warm-ups are most likely to prepare your body for your primary exercise session, which includes energetic motions that raise your heart rate and temperature. So, any action that gradually prepares your body for your primary workout is most likely a dynamic warm-up. Examples of appropriate pre-workout stretches and exercises are:

Brisk walking

Jumping jacks

Shoulder rolls

Squats

Elliptical

How To Warm Up:

The optimum warm-up for you will depend on the workout or exercise you're going to do, but light cardio, such as a brisk walk, easy jog, or a slow spin on a bike, is usually always a good place to start. Begin lightly and gradually increase the intensity over around five minutes, until you're working up a sweat. From here, you can concentrate on actively extending the body parts you're most likely to use during your exercise. So, if you're going to start lifting, warm up with exercises like shoulder rolls and squats. If you want a full-body workout, you may try jumping jacks, planks, or lunges.

Some folks incorporate foam rolling into their warm-up routine, focusing on the essential regions they'll be using during the workout.

The main points to remember when warming up are to: 

Keep moving, so you build up your heart rate and start to work up a slight sweat

Achieve a full range of motion, so you're prepping your body for the workout it's about to perform

Start gently and build up the intensity as you progress

How Long Should You Warm Up For?

The length of your warm-up may be determined by the intensity of your activity or exercise session. The more intense your workout, the longer your warm-up should last. Generally, 5-10 minutes is recommended.

[bpbpaint]

@whatsculture The 'Motion' series captured by Ethiophian photographer Girma Berta @gboxcreative .

In this series, the self taught photographer aimed to capture the soul and energy of African capitals.

Through a spun effect, Girma created dynamic portraits of people on bikes in the streets of Marrakech, Morocco; Jinja, Uganda; Bamako, Mali; and Yirga Chefe, Southern Ethiopia. The vibrant colors and spinning effect beautifully capture the energy of Africa.

"My photography style is focused on capturing the unique energy and personality of people living in urban areas," the artist says. "I'm particularly drawn to the vibrant atmosphere of big cities, where people from all walks of life come together

[thisisevenharderthannamingablog]

Liveblogging notes on ep. 7.

This one got long! Most of it isn't even about the final scene.

We are back in the urban jungle. (The false escape is another isekai thing, right?) I was wondering if we were going to see anything like this in terms of plot with Kinn missing. I want to know how his family reacted during those three days, though! Kim especially, since this must be among his worst nightmares? Was Khun reliving his personal trauma, or did no one tell him what was going on? Korn annoyed about maybe having to fall back on Plan X? Alas.

What a lovely brawl. Vegas has a literal scorecard somewhere doesn't he.

At least Big is getting a chance to work off some of his frustration on a deserving target for a change. Vegas is like pfft amateur hour here.

Family conference. Uncle Gun so concerned.

Speaking of Vegas' scorecard, he is still after Porsche? Just take the L already.

Finally, an explanation for some of the family dynamic: Korn's fucked up, yo.

OMG look at Kinn having emotions and putting Porsche's safety first. (Again, away from the usual setting. Maybe he should arrange to get shot often.) So that's two people that Porsche has now promised he won't die.

Vegas' faaaace when he doesn't get to have Porsche all alone to play with. Maybe Kinn has been paying attention to his chess lessons after all.

So the major family gets the classy crime and the markers of high culture, but they treat their people like (expensive) livestock. The minor family has the lower-status stuff, but their employees get fresh air and can wear colors.

Did they just sit Porsche next to Macau. It's like we're in a high school AU without ever leaving the show suddenly.

Scene shift from den of vice to home of virtue, although Chay hasn't been keeping the place tidy and now Kim is coming over. Busted and charmed.

A mirror. Korn is concerned about his long-term investment in Kinn's lack of mental health. Hey, remember the last time you were happy? Remember that version of you was stupid af? Also we wouldn't love you any more. Just fucking shoot him next time, jeez. So that choice has been laid out nice and clear.

Porsche straight-up lusting after that motorcycle is one of the purest things in this show. Apologizing to Macau, my goodness, maturity is busting out all over the place (although not on Macau's side). Vegas with the red velvet shirt again, dangling that bike in front of Porsche.

Choices, choices. Hm.

Back to Chay and Kim. Fascinating parallel with the gifts. With Vegas you can't call it anything other than a courtship gesture (as Kinn notes). Kim has ulterior motives, but he doesn't want anything obvious from Chay, who is delighted just to be around him. Having checked Chay's texts to Porsche, Kim doesn't think Chay is a threat. But he's not sure about Porsche?

OMG adorable sunshine puppy. I am so distracted during all of their scenes while I wonder what lip gloss Jeff uses. Ordinary suburban home door locks are susceptible to hairpins, paper clips, etc., but all Chay is hiding is his Wik shrine. The younger generation continues to have better romantic moves than all of their older sibs put together.

After that scene with Korn, I doubt anyone is surprised to see Kinn back on his passive-aggressive bullshit, especially since Vegas is involved. Still, we are a tad disappointed. Porsche is thinking about this like a job; if he's gonna be in the Mafia, he has to think about his long-term career, and working for the main family has pretty much sucked from his POV. Kinn (who has never had a job) is thinking about it like a relationship.

Vegas with the dish on Kinn's late ex at last, putting that classic Vegas spin on it. Porsche understandably shaken.

Meanwhile, Kinn has visitors. These two are growing on me. Lovely bit of contrasting scenework there.

Back to srs Mafia bizness for a whole minute. Which of these guys is the sharpshooter, damn.

Kinn is back to work and taking his friends' advice over his father's. They are stupidly cute. I guess that's one way of finding out if Porsche is down for another try without all the weirdness factors from their first time?

Mafia housecleaning continues, a much more extended scene. Vegas isn't a wimp, I'll say that for him. Porsche has made peace with his job? Smooth and professional as everyone else on this one. Vegas do keep your mind on business and your body off of Porsche.

Success for the minor house means party time. (Somewhere, Chan is frowning.) Vegas still working though, damn. You think about Kinn more than Porsche does, and he's the guy planning to fuck him as soon as this party is over with (has to return that gun, right?).

OMFG Pete. Providing the play by play, because that kind of thing always ends well.

How did Vegas KNOW ABOUT THAT?

Why am I recalling Gun's "after all, we're family" line. Love the bared teeth. Kinn, you are one angry motherfucker like 90% of the time. We're starting to get why, but don't take it out on Porsche.

Uh-oh, Tawan mention.

Always ready to be rough with each other. At least we're not getting another whole episode of angst.

From the slap onward this scene is almost dialog-free; it's carried by such individually small things. The way Kinn says I'm sorry directly into his skin (barely any louder than his breathing), that defeated look and bowed head, such a contrast from a few seconds before. The way Porsche leads with his shoulder when he turns around, and doesn't open his eyes until they're face to face -- he looks so very vulnerable. The lighting shift doesn't just indicate mood; it's like things have moved to a different place. And Kinn just looks completely overwhelmed? That moment where Porsche pushes him back, the little nod, the hands on his face; nobody's mad or upset now.

It's in some ways the opposite of their first scene, which was Kinn giving in to a fundamentally selfish impulse. This one is for Porsche until he decides to make it mutual, reinforcing that he's an active participant this time. Kinn always with the grabby hands. The way Porsche is watching him.

[Side note: This is new territory for Porsche in that a few weeks ago he was straight. When's the last time Kinn had sex like this? Unpolished, unprofessional, messy emotions all over the room, a place and a situation where he isn't in control? It's needy and dangerous (if only because they're 15 feet away from his homicidal cousin), and he looks so utterly delighted.]

And then that embrace?! What a way to end an episode. I can see why half the fandom says this scene rewired their brains.

On a totally different note, there is a lot of food in this ep. Depending on context that means different things, typically underlines connections -- here, most of those connections are methods of control. Interesting.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Why I am Predicting a Beth Appearance by the End Episode 3:

@bookqueenrules:

OFC, this is TOTAL speculation based on TWDU and non-TWDU clues.  I am NOT saying that Daryl will necessarily see/know that she is alive by the end of ep. 3(or in a post credits scene), but I believe it will be revealed to the audience by then that she, or someone who looks like her, is alive. 

I’ve seen symbolic clues in “Diverged” in Season 10 and Dead City. 

DD was in the writing/development stage FAR longer than Dead City. So, Dead City writers already had access to the outlines for DD before production began. So, when Maggie showed a family picture with a person we can infer to be Beth having eyes gouged out in the shape of the surprised emoji, that was a major red flag for me.  That happened in episode THREE of Dead City.

 In Diverged, a wholly symbolic episode, Daryl takes off on his own and his motorcycle breaks down. It is in the THIRD place he looks, that he finds the knife, symbolically representing a love interest. he needs to fix his bike and continue his journey. 

Some of my belief is based on storyline conjecture. So, back to Dead City.  It was considered a success by most, but why did it do well?

Some wanted to see NYC zombies. Some wanted to see Maggie and Hershel. I would argue MOST wanted to see the development of the Negan/Maggie dynamic. How many would have watched just Maggie trying to get Herschel back?  Some, but it would not have had the same viewership, and the TWD fans actually care about Hershel as Maggie and Glenn’s son. 

So, why will people watch DD?

Some are looking forward to variant zombies, some want to see Daryl, but for how long will the average American TWD viewer tune in to see Daryl hanging out with new French characters with accents and subtitles to boot?  

Personally, I would enjoy it regardless, but I know many people that hate subtitles and won’t be particularly interested in how things went in France.  Sure, the scenery is beautiful, but it won’t hold the interest past a couple of episodes. The “cure” premise was JUST seen in The Last of Us.   TPTB should also have learned that the decline of the flagship was largely due to killing off “family” characters we cared about and bringing on lots of new characters that never became as important to the audience as the original characters of the first few seasons. Hopefully, TPTB learned this lesson. 

While I DO expect to see a Carol flashback in season 1, the show will need to bring something to the French story that will excite and surprise viewers. If MMB would have decided to be in season 1, it may have been a different story. The Daryl/Carol dynamic would have been there, and I would be predicting your typical “cliffhanger” style reveal towards the end of the first season.

That is why I think there will need to be SOME reconnection between Beth/Daryl in season 1 for the audience to care enough to tune in to Carol/Daryl finding her in season 2. I wouldn’t expect them to connect until late episode 4 or episode 5, but they will have to be separated again by the end of 6.  They will need that time to tell their story and have the audience care again about their connection. Nicotera said in a recent interview that the DD spin-off talk began 7 years ago.  It was supposed to be set in the American West where Daryl encounters different groups each week.  He referenced three OLD shows as examples.

 One was Kung Fu with David Caradine. 

I could go into detail, but each show he referenced is about a man who is searching for something/someone and encounters different people who they change and are changed by them before moving onto the next place on the search.  Yes, I had to research each one.  They were before my time!  This stretched out search for Beth would have made sense then because the audience still remembered her and their connection vividly. That will not work now. It’s been too long and these series are finite. Gimple, sort of, said as much on the red carpet at the finale of the flagship. He said he was already past the spin-offs in his planning and was now thinking about how to develop the next generation and new stories while integrating the “iconic” characters. So, I don’t think these spin-offs will go much past three seasons. Especially with only six episodes per season, it doesn’t give that much time to develop these stories. 

Some non-storyline clues are that the release of EK’s album is on the 22nd of September right before episode 3 airs.  She has been releasing singles all summer.  Why wait for the album release until then?  Norman said in interviews last year that he would, “run into some familiar faces” in the spin-off.  Who else is going to run into in season 1 in France?

Just a few days ago there has been even MORE weirdness. An extra-long first episode?  All of episodes 1 and 2 being screened in theaters in four major cities on Monday?  WHY? I almost wonder if they decided to reveal Beth is alive at the end of episode 2. The ONLY reason to prescreen is to increase buzz, but really what hasn’t already been teased about those first two episodes? I understand that they may need more publicity due to the writer/actor strikes leading up to the release, but why would “spoiling” the first episodes really increase the buzz if it is JUST about the Laurent story?

I’m excited to see how it plays out!

@twdmusicboxmystery​:

I absolutely LOVE everything you’ve said here. Love the symbolic clues you’re looking at. Love your points about Dead City. Love your research into early iterations of the DD spinoff. (I kinda wonder if all the New Mexico symbolism from 11x01 was a nod to that.) Love all your points about publicity and such.

And you’re right. I heartily agree. I don’t have much to add, but all of your conclusions are the only thing that make sense. The only other “faces” we could run into are people like Heath and Davon. And don’t get me wrong, it would be fun to see them again. But it’s not like any of those characters will do much to further Daryl’s story.

And let’s not forget that ep 1 starts with an echo of Judith’s line about Daryl deserving a happy ending, too. Which means that one way or the other, he’ll find his true love and soulmate in this spinoff.

Can’t wait! Thanks SO much for your thoughts! Xoxo!  🍁 🍂 😍

[brianmiles]

Exploring the Wonders of MyOrbea: Your Ultimate Guide

In the dynamic world of cycling, finding the perfect ride to match your passion and lifestyle is essential. Whether you're a dedicated cyclist or someone who enjoys a leisurely spin through the countryside, your bike becomes an extension of yourself. This is where MyOrbea steps in, offering you an exceptional range of bicycles designed to meet the diverse needs of cyclists. In this blog, we will delve into the fascinating world of MyOrbea and explore how it's making waves in the cycling industry.

The MyOrbea Experience

A Legacy of Excellence

Founded in 1840, Orbea is a renowned name in the cycling industry. Their journey spans over a century, filled with innovations and milestones that have left a lasting impact on the world of cycling. MyOrbea is the online platform where they bring their legacy to life, providing cyclists with the opportunity to explore and purchase their top-of-the-line bikes.

A Bike for Every Rider

One of the most remarkable aspects of MyOrbea is the sheer variety of bicycles they offer. Whether you are into road biking, mountain biking, or urban commuting, MyOrbea has something for everyone. Their bikes are known for their high-quality construction and performance, making them suitable for both beginners and experienced riders.

Customization at Its Best

MyOrbea takes personalization to the next level. You can create your dream bike by customizing various components, from the frame to the color. This level of customization ensures that your bike is not just a mode of transport but a statement of your individuality. With MyOrbea, you're not just buying a bike; you're investing in a unique experience.

The Orbea Difference

Cutting-Edge Technology

Orbea has always been at the forefront of adopting the latest technology in bicycle manufacturing. They are known for their use of innovative materials and design concepts that result in lighter, more durable, and more comfortable bikes. MyOrbea showcases their commitment to innovation, offering customers the opportunity to own bikes that incorporate the latest advancements in the cycling industry.

Sustainable Manufacturing

In a world where sustainability is of paramount importance, MyOrbea stands out for its eco-friendly practices. Orbea is committed to minimizing their environmental impact by using sustainable materials and reducing waste in their manufacturing processes. By choosing MyOrbea, you're not just getting a great bike; you're supporting a company that cares about the planet.

Conclusion

MyOrbea is more than just a place to buy a bike; it's an experience. With a rich history, cutting-edge technology, sustainable practices, and a sense of community, MyOrbea has redefined what it means to be a cyclist. When you choose a MyOrbea bike, you're not just making a purchase; you're investing in a lifestyle. So, whether you're a professional racer or a weekend explorer, MyOrbea has the perfect ride waiting for you.

[mastergarryblogs]

Why the Home Fitness Market Is Booming: A Deep Dive into Consumer Behavior

Introduction

We are witnessing a dynamic evolution in the global home fitness market, driven by technological advancements, shifting consumer preferences, and lifestyle transformations following the pandemic. This detailed analysis provides a high-resolution view of market trends, regional developments, competitive dynamics, and emerging opportunities that are reshaping the industry landscape through 2030.

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Surge in Home-Based Wellness: Home Fitness Market Dynamics and Drivers

Digital Integration and Smart Equipment Innovation

The integration of smart technologies—IoT-enabled devices, AI-driven workout coaching, and cloud-based fitness ecosystems—has fundamentally transformed at-home workouts. Demand for connected equipment like smart treadmills, digital spin bikes, and wearable-integrated systems is expanding rapidly, as users seek real-time tracking and data synchronization with fitness platforms.

Personalization and Consumer-Centric Models

Modern consumers demand highly customized fitness solutions. Platforms offering adaptive AI-driven workout plans, body analytics, and personalized feedback mechanisms are fueling long-term engagement and equipment sales. Providers who harness behavioral data and biometrics to deliver precision training are dominating market segments.

Socioeconomic and Lifestyle Shifts

The rise of remote work, hybrid schedules, and urban density has made in-home exercise a necessity rather than a luxury. Coupled with growing health consciousness and a preference for privacy and autonomy, home fitness now aligns with a global cultural shift toward holistic self-care.

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Home Fitness Market Performance and Forecast (2023–2030)

Growth Momentum

The home fitness market is projected to grow at a CAGR of 4.6% from 2023 to 2030. This expansion is driven by increasing adoption across both mature and emerging economies, fueled by technological diffusion and health-centric consumer spending.

Segment Analysis

Cardiovascular Equipment

Holding the largest market share, cardio training equipment remains the cornerstone of at-home fitness. Treadmills, stationary bikes, and ellipticals lead in sales, bolstered by innovations such as interactive touchscreens, virtual reality training, and live-streamed workouts.

Strength Training Solutions

Strength equipment—including compact multi-functional machines, resistance bands, and adjustable dumbbells—has seen an uptrend due to the space-saving needs of urban dwellers and a renewed focus on muscular health across age demographics.

Holistic Wellness Add-Ons

The market is broadening to include yoga, pilates, and mindfulness tools. Digital platforms that combine physical training with mental well-being are emerging as powerful contenders in user retention and brand loyalty.

End-User Segmentation and Adoption Patterns

Home Consumers

The core growth engine of the market. These users seek cost-effective, flexible, and convenient alternatives to traditional gyms. Households are investing in home gym setups, driven by long-term ROI, hygiene preferences, and time efficiency.

Fitness Studios and Hybrid Gyms

As commercial fitness centers adopt hybrid models, there is a rise in studio-to-home streaming packages, with gyms offering equipment leasing and subscription-based virtual training to retain memberships.

Distribution Channels and Market Shifts

Online Retailing: The Dominant Force

Digital marketplaces now dominate equipment sales, with platforms such as Amazon, Peloton, and brand-specific e-commerce portals offering custom bundles, subscription content, and same-day delivery. Consumer trust in online purchasing has led to the erosion of brick-and-mortar exclusivity.

Rise of Omnichannel Models

Retailers blending physical stores with e-commerce—offering showroom demos, digital consultations, and app-based support—are outperforming single-channel competitors. The fusion of offline experience with online convenience is shaping future sales models.

Regional Outlook and Competitive Landscape

North America

The largest revenue-generating region, driven by high consumer spending power, early tech adoption, and a fitness-forward culture. The U.S. is witnessing robust demand for connected fitness systems and corporate wellness integrations.

Europe

A mature market showing demand for sustainable, ergonomic equipment. Germany, the UK, and France lead adoption, particularly in smart training technologies and eco-conscious product lines.

Asia-Pacific

The fastest-growing market, with China and India at the forefront. Increasing urbanization, rising middle-class affluence, and government-driven health initiatives are key growth accelerators.

Middle East, Africa, and South America

Emerging demand due to lifestyle shifts and digital penetration. Markets in UAE, Brazil, and South Africa are showing promise as infrastructure and income levels improve.

Key Home Fitness Market Players and Strategic Movements

Technogym: Known for its luxury smart systems and digital ecosystem integration.

Peloton: Revolutionized connected home cardio and continues to dominate with live content.

Nautilus, Inc.: Focuses on multi-functional equipment and app synchronization.

Johnson Health Tech: A major OEM provider with a diverse global footprint.

Life Fitness (KPS Capital Partners): Expanding with robust commercial-grade products adapted for home use.

Strategic Trends

M&A Activity: Smaller tech startups are being acquired by established fitness brands to expand digital capabilities.

Product Innovation: Modular and foldable equipment designs are trending due to space optimization needs.

Subscription Ecosystems: Equipment sales are increasingly bundled with streaming services, apps, and community platforms.

Home Fitness Market Challenges and Risk Factors

High Initial Costs: Premium smart equipment pricing still deters adoption in price-sensitive markets.

Digital Saturation: Overexposure to digital platforms may lead to user fatigue without sufficient innovation.

Logistics and Supply Chain Disruptions: Delays in microchip availability and shipping constraints affect production timelines and pricing.

Strategic Recommendations for Home Fitness Market Leaders

Invest in R&D for adaptive and modular fitness equipment compatible with various living environments.

Develop AI-integrated apps that offer hyper-personalized routines based on biometrics and real-time feedback.

Expand to underserved markets via localization strategies and mobile-first fitness solutions.

Strengthen omnichannel retail presence, combining immersive in-store experiences with app-driven purchase and delivery.

Forge partnerships with health insurance and wellness platforms to integrate home fitness into broader healthcare models.

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Conclusion

The global home fitness market is undergoing a paradigm shift fueled by consumer empowerment, tech innovation, and evolving wellness priorities. Companies that lead with personalization, digital integration, and localized strategies will unlock exponential value through 2030 and beyond.

With the landscape favoring those who merge convenience with connectivity, the next generation of home fitness is not only personal—it is precisely engineered, data-driven, and limitless in scale.

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