#how to create a landing page

[digitaltechpro]

How to Create High-Converting Landing Pages

How to Create High-Converting Landing Pages Introduction: A landing page is a critical element of any marketing campaign. A well-designed landing page can significantly boost conversions, turning visitors into leads or customers. This guide will cover essential tips for creating high-converting landing pages. Craft a Strong Headline: Your headline is the first thing visitors see. Make it: Clear…

[disgruntled-lifeform]

The Weavers and Spinners Guild I'm a part of has a volunteer requirement for all members and I took one look at our website and thought:

I can fix her

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

Cybercriminals are abusing Google’s infrastructure, creating emails that appear to come from Google in order to persuade people into handing over their Google account credentials. This attack, first flagged by Nick Johnson, the lead developer of the Ethereum Name Service (ENS), a blockchain equivalent of the popular internet naming convention known as the Domain Name System (DNS). Nick received a very official looking security alert about a subpoena allegedly issued to Google by law enforcement to information contained in Nick’s Google account. A URL in the email pointed Nick to a sites.google.com page that looked like an exact copy of the official Google support portal.

As a computer savvy person, Nick spotted that the official site should have been hosted on accounts.google.com and not sites.google.com. The difference is that anyone with a Google account can create a website on sites.google.com. And that is exactly what the cybercriminals did. Attackers increasingly use Google Sites to host phishing pages because the domain appears trustworthy to most users and can bypass many security filters. One of those filters is DKIM (DomainKeys Identified Mail), an email authentication protocol that allows the sending server to attach a digital signature to an email. If the target clicked either “Upload additional documents” or “View case”, they were redirected to an exact copy of the Google sign-in page designed to steal their login credentials. Your Google credentials are coveted prey, because they give access to core Google services like Gmail, Google Drive, Google Photos, Google Calendar, Google Contacts, Google Maps, Google Play, and YouTube, but also any third-party apps and services you have chosen to log in with your Google account. The signs to recognize this scam are the pages hosted at sites.google.com which should have been support.google.com and accounts.google.com and the sender address in the email header. Although it was signed by accounts.google.com, it was emailed by another address. If a person had all these accounts compromised in one go, this could easily lead to identity theft.

How to avoid scams like this

Don’t follow links in unsolicited emails or on unexpected websites.

Carefully look at the email headers when you receive an unexpected mail.

Verify the legitimacy of such emails through another, independent method.

Don’t use your Google account (or Facebook for that matter) to log in at other sites and services. Instead create an account on the service itself.

Technical details Analyzing the URL used in the attack on Nick, (https://sites.google.com[/]u/17918456/d/1W4M_jFajsC8YKeRJn6tt_b1Ja9Puh6_v/edit) where /u/17918456/ is a user or account identifier and /d/1W4M_jFajsC8YKeRJn6tt_b1Ja9Puh6_v/ identifies the exact page, the /edit part stands out like a sore thumb. DKIM-signed messages keep the signature during replays as long as the body remains unchanged. So if a malicious actor gets access to a previously legitimate DKIM-signed email, they can resend that exact message at any time, and it will still pass authentication. So, what the cybercriminals did was: Set up a Gmail account starting with me@ so the visible email would look as if it was addressed to “me.” Register an OAuth app and set the app name to match the phishing link Grant the OAuth app access to their Google account which triggers a legitimate security warning from no-reply@accounts.google.com This alert has a valid DKIM signature, with the content of the phishing email embedded in the body as the app name. Forward the message untouched which keeps the DKIM signature valid. Creating the application containing the entire text of the phishing message for its name, and preparing the landing page and fake login site may seem a lot of work. But once the criminals have completed the initial work, the procedure is easy enough to repeat once a page gets reported, which is not easy on sites.google.com. Nick submitted a bug report to Google about this. Google originally closed the report as ‘Working as Intended,’ but later Google got back to him and said it had reconsidered the matter and it will fix the OAuth bug.

[mortalityplays]

This is a dangerous sentiment for me to express, as an editor who spends most of my working life telling writers to knock it off with the 45-word sentences and the adverbs and tortured metaphors, but I do think we're living through a period of weird pragmatic puritanism in mainstream literary taste.

e.g. I keep seeing people talk about 'purple prose' when they actually mean 'the writer uses vivid and/or metaphorical descriptive language'. I've seen people who present themselves as educators offer some of the best genre writing in western canon as examples of 'purple prose' because it engages strategically in prose-poetry to evoke mood and I guess that's sheer decadence when you could instead say "it was dark and scary outside". But that's not what purple prose means. Purple means the construction of the prose itself gets in the way of conveying meaning. mid-00s horse RPers know what I'm talking about. Cerulean orbs flash'd fire as they turn'd 'pon rollforth land, yonder horizonways. <= if I had to read this when I was 12, you don't get to call Ray Bradbury's prose 'purple'.

I griped on here recently about the prepossession with fictional characters in fictional narratives behaving 'rationally' and 'realistically' as if the sole purpose of a made-up story is to convince you it could have happened. No wonder the epistolary form is having a tumblr renaissance. One million billion arguments and thought experiments about The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas that almost all evade the point of the story: that you can't wriggle out of it. The narrator is telling you how it was, is and will be, and you must confront the dissonances it evokes and digest your discomfort. 'Realistic' begins on the author's terms, that's what gives them the power to reach into your brain and fiddle about until sparks happen. You kind of have to trust the process a little bit.

This ultra-orthodox attitude to writing shares a lot of common ground with the tight, tight commodification of art in online spaces. And I mean commodification in the truest sense - the reconstruction of the thing to maximise its capacity to interface with markets. Form and function are overwhelmingly privileged over cloudy ideas like meaning, intent and possibility, because you can apply a sliding value scale to the material aspects of a work. But you can't charge extra for 'more challenging conceptual response to the milieu' in a commission drive. So that shit becomes vestigial. It isn't valued, it isn't taught, so eventually it isn't sought out. At best it's mystified as part of a given writer/artist's 'talent', but either way it grows incumbent on the individual to care enough about that kind of skill to cultivate it.

And it's risky, because unmeasurables come with the possibility of rejection or failure. Drop in too many allegorical descriptions of the rose garden and someone will decide your prose is 'purple' and unserious. A lot of online audiences seem to be terrified of being considered pretentious in their tastes. That creates a real unwillingness to step out into discursive spaces where you 🫵 are expected to develop and explore a personal relationship with each element of a work. No guard rails, no right answers. Word of god is shit to us out here. But fear of getting that kind of analysis wrong makes people hove to work that slavishly explains itself on every page. And I'm left wondering, what's the point of art that leads every single participant to the same conclusion? See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. Down the rollforth land, yonder horizonways. I just want to read more weird stuff.

[staff]

Tumblr’s Core Product Strategy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on reorganizing how we work in a bid to gain more users. A larger user base means a more sustainable company, and means we get to stick around and do this thing with you all a bit longer. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. The @labs group has published a bit already, but this is bigger. We’re publishing it publicly for the first time, in an effort to work more transparently with all of you in the Tumblr community. This strategy provides guidance amid limited resources, allowing our teams to focus on specific key areas to ensure Tumblr’s future.

The Diagnosis

In order for Tumblr to grow, we need to fix the core experience that makes Tumblr a useful place for users. The underlying problem is that Tumblr is not easy to use. Historically, we have expected users to curate their feeds and lean into curating their experience. But this expectation introduces friction to the user experience and only serves a small portion of our audience. 

Tumblr’s competitive advantage lies in its unique content and vibrant communities. As the forerunner of internet culture, Tumblr encompasses a wide range of interests, such as entertainment, art, gaming, fandom, fashion, and music. People come to Tumblr to immerse themselves in this culture, making it essential for us to ensure a seamless connection between people and content. 

To guarantee Tumblr’s continued success, we’ve got to prioritize fostering that seamless connection between people and content. This involves attracting and retaining new users and creators, nurturing their growth, and encouraging frequent engagement with the platform.

Our Guiding Principles

To enhance Tumblr’s usability, we must address these core guiding principles.

Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Retain and grow our creator base.

Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Improve the platform’s performance, stability, and quality.

Below is a deep dive into each of these principles.

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Tumblr has a “top of the funnel” issue in converting non-users into engaged logged-in users. We also have not invested in industry standard SEO practices to ensure a robust top of the funnel. The referral traffic that we do get from external sources is dispersed across different pages with inconsistent user experiences, which results in a missed opportunity to convert these users into regular Tumblr users. For example, users from search engines often land on pages within the blog network and blog view—where there isn’t much of a reason to sign up. 

We need to experiment with logged-out tumblr.com to ensure we are capturing the highest potential conversion rate for visitors into sign-ups and log-ins. We might want to explore showing the potential future user the full breadth of content that Tumblr has to offer on our logged-out pages. We want people to be able to easily understand the potential behind Tumblr without having to navigate multiple tabs and pages to figure it out. Our current logged-out explore page does very little to help users understand “what is Tumblr.” which is a missed opportunity to get people excited about joining the site.

Actions & Next Steps

Improving Tumblr’s search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards.

Experiment with logged out tumblr.com to achieve the highest conversion rate for sign-ups and log-ins, explore ways for visitors to “get” Tumblr and entice them to sign up.

Principle 2: Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

We need to ensure the highest quality user experience by presenting fresh and relevant content tailored to the user’s diverse interests during each session. If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product.

The default position should always be that the user does not know how to navigate the application. Additionally, we need to ensure that when people search for content related to their interests, it is easily accessible without any confusing limitations or unexpected roadblocks in their journey.

Being a 15-year-old brand is tough because the brand carries the baggage of a person’s preconceived impressions of Tumblr. On average, a user only sees 25 posts per session, so the first 25 posts have to convey the value of Tumblr: it is a vibrant community with lots of untapped potential. We never want to leave the user believing that Tumblr is a place that is stale and not relevant. 

Actions & Next Steps

Deliver great content each time the app is opened.

Make it easier for users to understand where the vibrant communities on Tumblr are. 

Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds. 

Principle 3: Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Part of Tumblr’s charm lies in its capacity to showcase the evolution of conversations and the clever remarks found within reblog chains and replies. Engaging in these discussions should be enjoyable and effortless.

Unfortunately, the current way that conversations work on Tumblr across replies and reblogs is confusing for new users. The limitations around engaging with individual reblogs, replies only applying to the original post, and the inability to easily follow threaded conversations make it difficult for users to join the conversation.

Actions & Next Steps

Address the confusion within replies and reblogs.

Improve the conversational posting features around replies and reblogs. 

Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs.

Make it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread. 

Remove clutter in the conversation by collapsing reblog threads. 

Explore the feasibility of removing duplicate reblogs within a user’s Following feed. 

Principle 4: Retain and grow our creator base.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.  

Being a new creator on Tumblr can be intimidating, with a high likelihood of leaving or disappointment upon sharing creations without receiving engagement or feedback. We need to ensure that we have the expected creator tools and foster the rewarding feedback loops that keep creators around and enable them to thrive.

The lack of feedback stems from the outdated decision to only show content from followed blogs on the main dashboard feed (“Following”), perpetuating a cycle where popular blogs continue to gain more visibility at the expense of helping new creators. To address this, we need to prioritize supporting and nurturing the growth of new creators on the platform.

It is also imperative that creators, like everyone on Tumblr, feel safe and in control of their experience. Whether it be an ask from the community or engagement on a post, being successful on Tumblr should never feel like a punishing experience.

Actions & Next Steps

Get creators’ new content in front of people who are interested in it. 

Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting.

Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral.

Expand ways to co-create content, such as by adding the capability to embed Tumblr links in posts.

Principle 5: Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Push notifications and emails are essential tools to increase user engagement, improve user retention, and facilitate content discovery. Our strategy of reaching out to you, the user, should be well-coordinated across product, commercial, and marketing teams.

Our messaging strategy needs to be personalized and adapt to a user’s shifting interests. Our messages should keep users in the know on the latest activity in their community, as well as keeping Tumblr top of mind as the place to go for witty takes and remixes of the latest shows and real-life events.  

Most importantly, our messages should be thoughtful and should never come across as spammy.  

Actions & Next Steps

Conduct an audit of our messaging strategy.

Address the issue of notifications getting too noisy; throttle, collapse or mute notifications where necessary.  

Identify opportunities for personalization within our email messages. 

Test what the right daily push notification limit is. 

Send emails when a user has push notifications switched off.

Principle 6: Performance, stability and quality.

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days. If this continues, roughly one new unresolved production issue will be created every two days. Apps and backend systems that work well and don't crash are the foundation of a great Tumblr experience. Improving performance, stability, and quality will help us achieve sustainable operations for Tumblr.

Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.

Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users. 

Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs.

Conclusion

Our mission has always been to empower the world’s creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that prioritizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we couldn’t be more excited about our current strategy.

[hrrtshape]

you can manifest anything in days, hours, even seconds.

you ever think about how you’re shifting realities right now? you just did it. again. and again. and. boom. there it goes. you’re not stuck in one solid, concrete world. you’re a flipbook of possibilities, and every second, a new page turns. the you reading this isn’t the you from five seconds ago. that version of you is gone. poof. never to return. god, i miss her.

so, why do people think manifestation takes time? time is just the illusion that makes reality feel digestible to our little human brains. but you don’t "wait" for things. you shift to them.

LOA isn’t about "forcing reality" like you’re wrestling fate to the ground. it’s about assuming you’re already in the reality where your desire exists. because the multiverse is infinite. every possibility is real somewhere. you’re not "creating" your dream life. you’re just moving to the timeline where it’s already true.

you can literally manifest in milli-seconds. the second you assume something is true, you land in the reality where it’s true. the only reason it sometimes feels "slow" is because you keep doubting it, wobbling between frequencies like a radio that’s not quite locked in.

for example, you want your dream body? kewl. shift to the parallel reality where you already have it. no, i don’t mean work out for six months and hope for the best. i mean assume, right now, that you have it, and live as though you do. time is fake, and you don't need it. your cells aren’t checking their watches. you can wake up in two hours with the body you’ve always wanted, because why not? that timeline exists. people have done it. the only thing between you and that reality is the idea that it’s "too unrealistic."

and what’s more unrealistic? the concept of shifting infinite times per second through an ever-expanding multiverse of possibility, or the idea that one of those infinite realities just so happens to contain the exact thing you want and all you have to do is land in it?

anyways. "shifting" and "manifesting" aren’t two different things. they’re just two perspectives on the same mechanism. you shift every second, every moment, all the time. and manifestation is just deliberate shifting. picking the station instead of letting the static choose for you.

so, no more "waiting." no more "how long will it take?" because it’s already happened. the moment you say this is my reality now. congrats. you just shifted.

[crushedsweets]

CREEPED VISUAL NOVEL Link, tutorial, extra art, Q&A, some chatter

The CREEPED Prologue is completely free and browser-ready. Gameplay is about 10 minutes. Please read the "tutorial" and notes before playing!

Follow Y/N and their dog, Max, through their grandparents' farm and a mysterious forest filled with...less than fortunate people!

PLAY HERE; works best on PC

This visual novel is powered by GOOGLE SLIDES! It has 0 programming and was created by one person in a little over a month, so please bear with any "bugs" and clunkiness!

TUTORIAL

>Click using mouse/trackpad >Go slowly to not break game >Do not use arrow or space keys

EXTRA NOTES:

>Works best on PC/Browser, I haven't tested the full game on mobile yet >In general, clicking the PNGs on the textbox (Apple, Teddy Bear, Hatchet, etc) will lead you to the right page >If you land on a page that tells you to "go back," that's when you should click the back-arrow key. If your cursor disappears, it doesn't register the click correctly >I recommend moving your cursor periodically to avoid it disappearing and sending you to the wrong page

EXTRA ART

some WIPS and the original sprite-style i was gonna choose LOOOOOOOL

Q&A

Q: Is this an x reader? A: This is a reader-insert, but it's not romantic and I try to keep it as neutral and unidentifiable as possible! Q: What's the plot? A: GENERALLY AND WITHOUT SPOILERS, your dog gets you into trouble and you're just looking to help him!

Q: Who is in the prologue? A: Tim, Brian, Toby, and Kate! More will be added in future chapters.

Q: When will future chapters be posted? A: Not sure! This took me about a month to do, and half was spent over winter break. I will try to get chapter 1 posted before summer, but I am a full-time student, employed, have extracurriculars, etc etc

ok thats all i only remember 4 questions feel free to ask more LMAO

CHATTER(because you know i can talk forever)

ok i just wanted to be able to talk about how the process was with this and how i feel about the results and whatnot...

ive been wanting to make a google slides visual novel since i was like 13 LOL it hit the point where i was repeatedly told i should just learn to code but i was like NOOOOO ITS GOTTA BE GOOGLE SLIDESSSS which is totally stupid but hey. i think that gives it some sort of simple charm that reminds me of being 16 and doing little projects in my room LOL i like working with the easiest tools . my bad

anyway. im just very happy LOL. it's not perfect but i feel like i came full circle in a sense?!?! i've been into creepypasta since i was 9 and it comforted me when things were really hard, and when i was 18 i was going through a really hard time and got back into creepypasta as a way to distract myself. i've always had a habit of throwing myself into fiction for escapism when things suuucked.

i'm 20 now but i've met SO many amazing people, had so many fun awesome exciting projects with friends, created tons of stuff im proud of, felt more motivated to create since i was like 13, have been inspired by so many amazing artists/authors on here, etc. just so so so lucky to find community in such a tight-knit cute fandom that thrives off of creativity and playing around! i hope i can keep the momentum and make a couple more chapters this year, but im kinda busy with school and work...LOL . i'm just excited to have this posted so i can have more discussion about it T_T

anyway thank you if you read this far and thank you if you played etc etc yaahhhhhh omg ok BYE THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING im just so grateful to be in this fandom

[jaythes1mp]

Here, Kitty.

Yan batfam x cat hybrid reader -> CH1

12609 words, 71519 characters, 719 sentences, 224 paragraphs, 50.4 pages Next chapter

You can't recall exactly when or how you first came into contact with the billionaire and his sons, but if you could, you would go back in time and prevent that meeting from ever taking place. In a heartbeat.

Sitting obediently on a glass table tucked in the center of a crowded Wayne Enterprises boardroom, you find yourself ensnared as Bruce Wayne diligently delivers a familiar presentation, each sentence having been painstakingly practiced during the car ride over. Having overheard his repeated rehearsal with Alfred, you find yourself unconsciously mouthing along to every word. The tight black and green collar around your neck only worsening your discomfort, its stiffness constricting your movements and snagging on your freshly groomed fur.

The man continues on with his presentation, his polished demeanour and authoritative tone captivating the attention of the surrounding investors and executives. However, you find it difficult to focus on his words, the ridiculous knitted Nightwing sweater pressing against your back causing an uncomfortable itch. You shift slightly, wincing as your freshly combed coat brushes against the stiff fabric.

The weight of Bruce's unwavering gaze lands on you like a furnace, and you can almost picture that infuriatingly fond smile plastering his face. Just the thought of it made your stomach churn with disgust. Your tail swishing side to side in distaste.

He continues to drone on and on; and you find yourself struggling to stay still, the uncomfortable position, itchy sweater, and the heavy weight of Bruce's stare making it increasingly difficult to focus on anything he's saying. The only thing you want to do is scratch the infuriating itch, but the tight collar around your neck and Bruce's looming presence ensure that you remain obediently still. You know better than to cross them. How willing they are to punish you, so you stay still.

Your thoughts drift to a time when you were still unburdened by this enforced domestication. A pang of longing and bitterness settles in your chest as memories of your previous life come flooding back. You remember the simple freedom of being able to move about unmonitored, the comfort of lounging in the sun, unbothered by the Wayne families suffocating grasps.

Your paws effortlessly propel you across the icy rooftops, leaping and bounding with a careless grace. The cool night air brushes through your untamed, unhindered fur, the wind whistling past your ears. A bag is clenched between your sharp teeth, the fabric muffling your breathing slightly as you scale each building with purpose.

The city's neon glow stretches out beneath your paws, the distant lights casting a soft, surreal hue on the urban canvas. Free to go wherever you please. You could spend minutes, hours or even days just wandering under Gotham’s starry sky, with no one to tell you what to do or where to be.

You pause your journey and arrive at the edge of a dark alley, peering down at the scene below. A woman holds two teens hostage, a pistol pressed against their shivering frames. Your tail involuntarily fluffs up, matching the tension in your body as your slitted eyes dart to each potential escape route. A hiss escapes past your teeth, and you set the package down at your side before delicately pawing at a loose brick in the wall. You slide it from its position just enough to create a domino effect, the brick falling directly onto the woman's gun-holding hand.

A small, satisfied mewl leaves your throat as the woman wails in pain, her broken wrist cradled protectively in her grip. The two teens immediately seize the opportunity to make their escape, scrambling out of the alleyway. The gun slips from the woman's grasp, and she drops to her knees clutching her wounded hand. Your ears fold back and a low hiss escapes your lips at the sight, but you remain perched on the roof-top, unmoving. You slowly lower back down to take your package, then turn away. Your paws hitting the nearest rooftop with a small thump.

Your paws carry you further and further away from the robbery, the events replaying in your mind like a vivid, disjointed dream. You launch yourself from roof-to-roof in a series of quick dashes and leaps, your body seemingly on autopilot as you weave through the city's darkened backstreets. The silence of the rooftops envelops you like a comforting blanket, the city below finally at rest. A cool night breeze caresses your untamed fur, rustling its unkempt strands. Balancing the package carefully in your mouth, you bound toward your home’s familiarly cluttered balcony.

Your eyes scan over the cluttered balcony, taking in the random assortment of books, clothes, and trinkets strewn across the small space. Your padded paws land quietly on the rough wood, a subtle thump breaking the silence. Your muscles relax ever so slightly as the familiar surroundings wash over you. Without a second thought, you make your way to the edge of the balcony, lowering the package with your paws before curling up beside it, your ears folding back in an almost contented manner.

Your eyes had just shuttered closed as you basked in the soothing midnight breeze, when the sudden crash of metal yanks you from your reverie. Your ears perking up and pivoting towards the source of the disturbance. A low, frustrated huff escapes your snout. You stretch out your limbs, your tail flicking in annoyance as you lower yourself from the edge of the balcony and peer over the side.

Peering down from your perch on the balcony, your eyes widen in surprise. It’s...a boy? Wearing a skin-tight red and black bodysuit with a vibrant yellow cape. A flicker of familiarity sparks in your brain; you’ve seen this one before. Red Robin.

You observe him silently from your vantage point, tilting your head to the side as your eyes rove over his frame. He lets out an exaggerated groan, grappling awkwardly with an unfamiliar piece of gadgetry. A low, scoffing hum leaves your throat and your tail lightly thwaps against the wood, twitching in amusement. You had only seen him in pictures before, but damn, they didn’t lie. He looked absolutely ridiculous.

You lower yourself with a single, fluid motion onto the metal stairwell, feeling the rough surface scraping against your little paws. A small hiss of displeasure escapes your throat, but you brush it off and continue. You approach him curiously, taking a moment to inspect him. Your nose twitches as you sniff at his cape before finding a comfortable spot to sit and look up at him expectantly.

He doesn’t immediately notice your approach, his mind seemingly occupied by the malfunctioning gadget in his hands. You watch as he fiddles with the device for a few moments before his attention finally snaps to you. He visibly jumps, startled by your sudden proximity. He lets out a startled breath, eyes widening. You had gone to him.

You let out a snort of derision. Him, a vigilante? A detective? Unlikely. The thought of him trying to solve a case or outwit a criminal is absolutely absurd. You let your gaze wander over his costume once more, imagining how differently he would react if you were in your human form right now.

He slowly lowers the gadget, his eyes fixed upon you as you recline before him, behaving like an awaiting house cat. He observes you with quiet, analytical interest, his gaze roaming over your small form, taking in your twitching tail and reasonably-groomed fur. He seems to ponder the sight of you, weighing in on your not-quite stray, yet not-quite pampered appearance.

You gingerly shift closer, standing on your hind legs before pawing at his pants. A small indignant huff of disappointment escapes your lips as the material refuses to tear, the tightly-woven fabric holding firmly against your claws, unable to even tear the slightest thread, but you mask it with a small, almost cute "mew". Nevertheless, you are determined to make the most out of this situation. Planning on coaxing all the pets you possibly can out of this man.

He shoots you a curious look, tilting his head to the side. You can almost hear the cogs turning in his brain. He then slowly reaches out a gloved hand, hovering it over your head hesitantly, waiting for your response.

The end of your tail gives a happy flick, betraying your eagerness for his touch. You press your cheek against his knuckles, enjoying the sensation of his fingers against your fur. Instinctively, your ears fold back, granting him better access to run his fingers further through your soft fur. Sucker.

A soft, delighted purring sound fills the air as your eyes flutter closed, your purrs becoming a constant, steady low rumble in your chest as he continues to gently stroke your head and down your neck. Oh, this is heavenly. Your tail swishes contentedly, and you lean into his touch, almost shamelessly seeking out more.

His gloved hand is much bigger than your entire head, the soft fabric of his suit brushing against your fur. Yet, his touch was gentle and deliberate, slowly tracing the outline of your ears and down your spine, causing a blissful shiver to run through your small body. Your eyelids droop further, nearly closing completely, your purring becoming louder as you relax into his touch. You don’t notice the pleased knowing grin that crosses his face.

The weight and warmth of his gloved hand was almost soothing, his fingers weaving between your fur with a sort of rhythmic motion. You let your body go limp, your head rolling back to further expose the underside of your chin, silently begging for more of those slow, careful caresses. Your eyes are almost completely closed now, a small rumble in your chest the only sound you remember how to make. God, you haven’t been pet in weeks.

His hand moves from your spine to the base of your tail, and a low sigh of pure contentment leaves your mouth. He seems to sense your delight and focuses his attention there, running his fingers through the base of your tail, causing you to involuntarily arch your body towards him, purring in approval.

He seems to know exactly what to do, his touch deliberate yet tender. A little too well. It's as if he's somehow mapped out each and every spot that you secretly adore and is now exploiting it to great effect. The constant caresses, pets, and scrabbles have worked you into a sort of euphoric, almost trancelike state, your mind becoming blissfully devoid of conscious thought. All you can focus on is the warm, firm touch of his gloved hand.

The moment is shattered, however, as deep voice from his comms shatters the sweet, blissful moment. Your little pointed ears perk up, instinctively responding to the sudden intrusion of sound. “Tim? Why does it say you’ve stood still?”

You pull yourself from your blissful state with a reluctant huff, the sound of the deep voice in his comm jarring you back to reality. Your ears flick back, annoyed at the interruption. Tim– Red Robin seems to tense up, his hand frozen in mid-pet. He lets out a small, nervous chuckle, looking down at you. "Sorry, I got…distracted."

Your tail lazily swishes against the stairwell, silently expressing your irritation at having been interrupted. You can practically hear his sheepish, nervous chuckle, can practically sense the tension in his frame. "Distracted?" The voice in the comm questions, but you huff, tuning out the conversation.

You let out a small, frustrated huff before turning your focus back onto Tim's still form. Ignoring the man's comm conversation, you push your little, fluffy face against his leg, letting out a needy demanding mewl to regain his attention. You're not done yet, damn it.

His eyes flick back over to you, a mix of apology and amusement evident in his gaze. He resumes his prior motions, sliding his hand down your spine with a soft, comforting caress, tracing the same path he'd followed before. All the while, his other hand is fiddling with the comms device, probably replying to the man on the other end. Good. As long as his hands are still touching you, you don't particularly care what he's doing. “You found them?”

You sigh and let yourself relax once again, the soothing motions of his fingers against your fur quickly working you back into blissful indifference. You let your eyelids flutter closed, sinking back into the soothing rhythm of his touch. The only sounds you can focus on are his breathing, the soothing rasp of his glove against your fur, and the low hum of the comm conversation. This is nice.

He continues this motion for what feels like an eternity, the blissful sensation of being pet taking over your senses and dulling your brain into a euphoric, mindless state. You find yourself leaning heavily against his leg, the steady rise and fall of his chest and the low rumble of his voice against the comms acting as an oddly soothing background noise. Damn, you could get used to this....

Gradually, you become aware of him shifting, his hand leaving your spine. A low whine escapes your throat, your eyes opening to look up at him with a mixture of annoyance and pleading. Come back. You meow, demanding.

You let out a low grumble of complaint as he stands and picks up the device once more. Irritated at the interruption of your moment, you bat at his leg with your small paw, then quickly scamper away, leaping back onto the balcony from before. Now alone, you let out a sigh and circle the small space multiple times. The wood scraping against your claws sharply.

With a quick shift, you transform back into your human form, the small package clutched delicately in your hands. Turning, you slide open the door to the balcony and step through, the cool night air rustling against your clothes.

Tossing the small package onto the countertop, you drag yourself over to the couch. Your limbs ache with exhaustion as you collapse into the cushions with a thud. You bring the well worn blanket with you, wrapping your tired body in its familiar comfort. Your muscles are screaming out for rest. Which you happily oblige.

You're wrenched out of a fitful sleep, eyes fluttering open as the familiar, infuriating sound of construction greets you. Fuck. A loud, frustrated groan escapes your chapped lips. You pull a nearby couch pillow over your head, desperately trying to muffle the noise. With bleary eyes, you squint at the digital clock reading 5:42. You want to die.

The relentless hammering, banging, and drilling outside the thin walls of the apartment pierce your eardrums. You swear you can feel each blow of the hammer, every screech of the drill, deep in your bones. Make it stop. You press the pillow more firmly against your ears, trying in vain to block out the incessant din. You silently promise yourself that if you ever meet the city planner responsible for approving this construction, you'll kick him square in the nuts... Or right in the vagina– whatever. Now is not the time to debate over this.

With a groan of irritation and an abundance of hissing, you force your tired body into a sitting position as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. You take a moment to rub your temples for some relief from the dull ache forming behind your eyes.

You open your red rimmed eyes and swing your legs over the side of the couch. The exhaustion from last night feels ten times worse now after being woken up prematurely by the construction racket. You mentally curse whoever’s in charge here, and their entire bloodline. Silently wishing for the noise to stop. Maybe you can sleep in the bathtub later...

You brace one hand against the side of the couch as you use it as support to rise to your feet. A series of satisfying cracks and pops resonate down your spine. By the sound of it you’re a chiropractors wet dream.

You let out a low sigh of relief as you straighten, your back now less taut than it was a few moments ago. Small mercies, right?

With your hands clamped tightly over your tender, sensitive ears, you stumble into the kitchen. You begin searching through each cabinet with a desperation that borders on violent. Your mission? Find the strongest headache pills you have.

After hastily flinging open each cupboard and shelf, you finally find what you’re looking for. A small, white bottle filled half way with little white tabs. With a quick twist, you pop the lid open and pour two pills out into your palm, before downing them dry.

You lean against the kitchen counter, eyes squeezed shut as you press the heels of your hands firmly into your temples. Come on. Work already..

You wait in silence, only the buzzing of the refrigerator and occasional hammering outside filling the air. You press your palms against your temples, as if physically willing the pills to work faster. The tension between your shoulders tight as piano wire.

You let out a frustrated groan, turning the tap on, lowering your head under the rushing water. You gulp down a few mouthfuls, letting the water run over, through, and past your lips. The noise of the tap muffling the sounds of the construction. The coolness of the water temporarily soothes the ache behind your eyes.

You let the water slide past your lips, closing them to savor the cool sensation. Your mind grows blank as you lose track of time, lost in tranquility despite the racket outside. Then, with a shaky hand, you turn off the tap, stepping back as you reach for a tea towel to dry your face and neck. The cloth rough against your tender skin, but the motion is calming, and your shoulders loosen the slightest bit.

You lean back against the counter, the cold marble seeping through your shirt, almost numbing any sensation on your skin. You take another moment to towel dry your hair, the rough material scraping against your scalp, and sending a pleasant shiver down your back. The small action temporarily distracting you from the pounding in your head.

You drop the towel, letting it fall onto the counter behind you. A long exhale escapes your mouth, your shoulders dropping as you relax. For a moment, the water seems to have worked. Unfortunately, the relief is short lived as the headache slowly creeps back in. A low growl escapes your lips. Ugh.

You scan over the bottle, reading the small print. Only twenty minutes before the damn things start to kick in. Shit. You shove the container back inside the cupboard, a frustrated huff leaving your lips. You drag your body over to your room, every step a tedious task.

You stumble into the room and collapse onto your bed, face first. You let out a low groan as your body lands on the soft, fluffy mattress. It welcomes you with open arms. You let yourself go limp, letting the comfort and softness of your bed lull you into a quiet state of half numbness. You can’t tell if it’s the lack of rest, or the pills finally starting to work, but you’re suddenly feeling incredibly woozy.

With a sluggish effort, you shift your head up, wincing at the sharp, persistent thrum in your skull. Despite the throbbing, you slowly extend your arm to reach for the pair of shorts laying on the edge of the bed.

With a weary sigh, you shuck off yesterday’s cargo pants and pull the new shorts up your legs. The simple motion feels like climbing a mountain. Deciding that the headache pounding through your mind was too much to change your shirt, you collapse back onto your bed. The sheets cool against your overheated skin.

You lay there for a moment, letting the comfort of your bed take hold. Despite the headache still pounding through your head, exhaustion slowly starts to take hold of you. Your eye lids flutter as sleep slowly creeps in. But just as you’re about to doze off, your stomach lets out an obnoxious gurgle, the sound piercing the silence. Great.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you shift up from the bed, grimacing as you do so. Your untamed hair sticking up in random directions. You rub your temple, as your stomach lets out another loud grumble. You let out an annoyed whine as the realisation sinks in. You’re out of groceries.

With a disgruntled huff, you haul yourself up for the second time. Reaching for your jacket as you quickly make your way towards the front door. This time choosing to forego the balcony and just walk like a normal person. You swing open the front door and step out into the hallway. The fluorescent lights buzz annoyingly overhead.

You step into the hallway, your shoes slapping softly against the tiled floor. The sound of the construction is no longer muffled, the endless banging and grinding now clear as day. You wince as the onslaught suddenly becomes unbearable. You quickly make your way to the staircase instead of the elevator. You can’t handle being jammed into that tiny space with the sounds of hell right now.

You take the steps of the staircase two at a time, just wanting to get out of this damn building as soon as possible. Each step echoes with a rhythmic thudding against the cold concrete as you make your way to the ground floor. The headache pills have finally started to work, but the pounding construction outside is slowly undoing their efforts.

You stride past the workers, shooting each of them a murderous glare. It’s not their fault they’re just doing their job. But goddamn it, the headache is worsening and it’s all you can do to not snap at them. Instead, you settle for shooting them a glare that could rival Batman himself.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the angry words building within you. Just keep walking. It’s fine. They’re not at fault here. It’s stupid to be angry at them. You repeat the mantra in your head like a broken record as your legs carry you further down the street. Further away from that blasted construction noise.

You keep walking, your shoes thumping against the concrete as you go. The further away you get from the construction, the more the headache starts to abate. You let out a quiet, shuddering breath of relief as you glance around at your surroundings. Barely anyone was out at this hour, the streets still mostly asleep.

After walking another ten minutes or so, you pause in the middle of the street and let out a string of quiet curses under your breath. The stores won’t be open for at least another four hours, and your stomach is starting to demand sustenance again.

Frustration builds inside of you, your teeth clenched tight together as you shuffle in place. You can’t go back to your apartment because of that goddamn noise, and all the stores that aren’t run by mobsters are closed.

You sigh, resting your tired body against the graffiti-filled wall behind you. There was another option you could try. But whether or not you were desperate enough to do it was something else.

You chew on your bottom lip in contemplation. You hadn't eaten much more than a small yogurt cup yesterday, and your stomach was protesting it's emptiness in a loud, gurgling complaint. You release a long sigh, doing a quick glance around to ensure no one was nearby before shifting into a cat.

The transformation is swift and graceful as you shift into the form of a sleek cat. Your body shrinks, limbs elongating and changing shape as soft multicoloured fur sprouts from your body. You stand on four paws, tail swaying languidly. You give yourself a quick shake, licking your little paws for good measure before looking around again.

You take a moment to get used to the new body you’ve assumed. Everything felt a tad bit more sensitive in this form. Your ears swivel around at minuscule sounds as you sniff the air with your sensitive nose, picking up on the various scents floating through the street.

You decide to try your hand at pity first, before resorting to thievery if your first plan fails. You slink down the street, your paws silent against the pavement beneath you as you search for some poor unsuspecting soul to assist you.

You stalk down the street, ears pricked and head tilted as you listen for the sounds of anyone making their way through the quiet street. You make yourself as adorable as possible: wide, begging eyes and sticking out your chest. A pitiful meow leaving your little cat mouth every so often, just for good measure.

You make your way through the city, heading towards the more upscale side of Gotham. You sway your tail idly behind you, the appendage brushing against the concrete and gathering the dirt that sticks to your fur. You make sure to rub up against some objects, gathering enough dirt and debris to make yourself appear slightly disheveled, but not enough to set off your instincts to want to groom yourself immediately.

You reach a neighbourhood of opulent high rises and well manicured lawns, plush houses and gated communities starting to become more frequent, a stark contrast to the graffiti-filled blocks you had passed before. Your fur is dusted with enough dirt to look untidy without feeling uncomfortable, and you let out a small meow as you glance down the street, scouting for a likely target.

You spot a man of considerable height, around 6 foot tall, with an intimidatingly built physique. His shirt clings just slightly too tightly against his chest, leaving little to the imagination. A scar mars the side of his face, making him look even more menacing. But you’ve seen far scarier looking men loitering at the end of your street. Saying that, doesn’t mean you’re any less scared of his imposing figure. So you quickly duck under the nearest parked car, attempting to conceal yourself beneath it.

You watch in trepidation as the man begins strutting towards the vehicle you’ve hidden yourself beneath. He kneels down in an unhurried, smooth motion, and peers right under the car. His gaze instantly locks onto you, your eyes widening in response to his intense stare. For the briefest of moments, you could have sworn there was a look of softness in his eyes, as if he hadn’t expected to see you.

“A cat?” The man lets out a small huff, shaking his head in what seemed like disbelief. His gaze drifts to your disheveled appearance, taking in the dirt that clings to your fur. He lets out a low hum, continuing to watch you with a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His muscles slowly relax. A smirk appearing on his face as he studies you closer.

Your tail sways behind you, your ears perking up at his relaxed gaze. A sly little grin of satisfaction threatens to rise to your face, but you hold it back, instead letting out a pitiful meow as you slowly shuffle closer to him. He doesn’t move away, watching your every movement with unwavering eyes.

You lower your head, slowly moving towards his boots. You let your body press against the soles of his shoes, a soft purring sound escaping your little feline mouth. The dirt from your fur slowly coats the previously clean material of his boots, but he doesn’t seem to mind the mess.

You continue to press your body against the hard leather of his boots, leaving behind a dusting of dirt. He crouches down, gently reaching out a big hand, careful not to scare you off. You can see the muscles in his arms flex with the action, the veins prominent on his knuckles. He gently runs a finger over your head, scratching just behind your ears.

The feel of his big hand against your head is gentle, his touch unexpectedly tender as he lightly scratches at the skin behind your ear. You let out a rumbling purr, unable to fight the comforting sensation that slowly starts to take over. Despite his intimidating appearance, he’s surprisingly sweet towards you.

He’s a hard-looking man, his appearance disheveled and weathered, a white streak through his jet black hair. His wide physique is almost intimidating, but you can see his heart already start to soften after a few moments. It seems even he isn’t immune to the charm of a pitiful stray cat begging for food and affection.

"What are you doing all the way out here, kid?" The man's deep, slightly grating voice calls out as he continues to gently scratch behind your ear. He's staring down at your small form with an odd expression of concern on his face, his eyes drifting over your disheveled fur.

Your ears perk up at the sound of his voice. Something suddenly seems terribly familiar about it. You tilt your head, glancing up to get a clearer look at the man’s face as you try and place where exactly you’ve heard his voice before.

You look closer at the man, studying his features with a furrowed brow. There’s no mistaking it now, you’ve definitely seen this guy somewhere before. You’re sure of it. But there’s no way you’d ever know anyone this big and intimidating before… right?

The man stands, gently scooping you up into his arms. He gives you a light pat on the head before he starts to move. “Come along then, I don’t need that little shit on my ass for leaving their little obsession stranded so far from home,” he mumbles, as if he’s talking to himself and not you.

You’re left blinking in surprise as you’re lifted from the ground, cradled in the man’s arms. You look up at him as he starts walking down the street with you, a bewildered look on your face. Obsession? Stranded? What the hell is this dude on?

The man continues walking, his stride even and unhurried. He glances down at you and scoffs, as if he’s amused by the sight of you. He mutters something under his breath as he walks, something that sounds like “God dammit, B.” He brings his hand up to give you a gentle scratch under your chin, the gesture almost affectionate.

Your stomach chooses the perfect moment to let out a loud grumble, the sound amplified by being so close to the man’s hand. You can feel his hand twitch against your belly slightly, and he lets out a low chuckle.

“Hungry, huh?” The man drawls out. He stops his stride for a moment, pulling out his phone as he keeps you cradled in one arm. You can’t see anything from this angle, but you can hear the sound of him making a phone call.

It’s only a few rings before someone picks up on the other end. You can faintly hear a voice chatting softly on the other line, even though you can’t make out what they’re saying. The man lets out a small huff of annoyance before holding the phone up to his ear, shifting you in his arms to keep you comfortably balanced against his chest.

“Hey,” he says into the speaker, his voice gruff but surprisingly soft. “Yeah, I’m out on the east side. I found something.” There’s a pause as the person on the other line responds, and you can faintly hear them say something, although it’s muffled and indistinct. The man snorts, his eyes drifting down to you for a moment before he continues.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m bringing ‘em back. Relax,” The man responds to the person on the other side of the line, rolling his eyes. You watch the side of his face as he talks, your ears pricked, ears catching snippets of the conversation. Relax? What do they mean by that? Are they talking about me?

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it,” the man says, shifting you around again as he begins to resume walking. “I’ll be back in an hour.” The person on the other end says a few more words before there’s a beep signifying the call’s been cut. He shoves his phone back into his pocket before bringing his hand back to keep you cradled against his chest.

You huff softly, feeling a strange mix of irritation and intrigue swirling inside of you. In an attempt to distract yourself, you reach your small paw up, lightly tapping it against the man’s cheek.

It’s a small action, intended to be nothing more than a curious little jab. But against the rough, scarred skin of the man’s cheek, your tiny little paw seems almost affectionate. He glances down at you at the contact, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise.

He studies you for a moment, a look of almost curiosity on his face. It’s a far cry from the gruff, hardened exterior he had been portraying up until now. He stops his stride for a moment, lifting you closer to his face to look at you more closely.

He seems almost… fascinated by you. His eyes rove over your soft fur and little face, taking in every detail. He lets out a low hum, slowly reaching out a hand and gently stroking your back. “The kid’s is gonna kill me for letting you get all dirty.”

The hand stroking gently down your back is surprisingly soft, despite the callouses and ridges of his fingertips. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head, probably trying to deduce what to do. “You’re a mess,” he mutters, his gaze drifting over your disheveled coat.

You can feel the urge to roll your eyes at the man’s words, the comment practically begging for a sarcastic reaction. But you hold it back, reminding yourself of the delicious meal you’re hoping to get out of him. Better hold back on the sass, for now.

Instead, you let your tail flick idly, trying to appear as innocent and pitiful as possible. Come on, man. Have a heart. Feed me.

The dude glances down as your tail continues to flick against his arm, almost as if you’re trying to lure him into doing something for you. A light snort escapes his mouth, his fingers trailing down to give you a little scratch on the head. “You’re a sly little bastard, ain’t ya?”

His statement is more of an off-handed comment rather than an actual critique. He continues to scratch behind your ear, seemingly unable to resist giving you a little affection. His gaze drifts over your disheveled form, taking in the dirt-matted fur and slight exhaustion in your eyes.

He lets out a soft grunt, his touch gentle as he runs his hands through your fur. You can almost hear the cogs turning in his head, his eyes never leaving your disheveled appearance. “How long you been out here all alone, huh?” he mutters, his voice gruff but strangely sympathetic.

The man lets out a low huff, glancing down at you with an almost sympathetic look on his face. “It’s earlier than we planned,” the man mutters, a hint of regret coating his words. His hand still softly stroking through your fur. “But the renovations are nearly ready,” his eyes taking in your exhausted form. It’s hard to say if he’s talking to you or to himself, a note of assurance in his voice. “So soon, kid.”

You look up at him with a bewildered expression on your face, your little mind still trying to make sense of his words. What is he talking about? Renovations? Who’s he talking to? Who are the people he keeps mentioning? What is even happening right now? But you quickly cover it up and let out a tired-sounding meow, hoping he won’t notice the hint of confusion in your little feline face. He glances down at you, his hand slowly rubbing a soothing circle on your back.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he murmurs, his voice still gruff but the tone softer this time. “You’ll be safe soon enough.” He gives you a gentle pat on the head before resuming his stride. You can feel his arms cradling you against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat almost lulling you into a sense of security.

Even as your mind races with unanswered questions, the beat of the man’s heartbeat seems to soothe you, acting as a strange form of comfort. His warm arms keep you tucked against him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest steady and unhurried. It’s an almost reassuring presence.

The man carries you down the street, the rhythmic sound of his footsteps and steady rhythm of his heart slowly lulling you into a trance-like state. The exhaustion from the past few days is finally catching up to you, a small yawn escaping your little mouth before you can try to fight it.

You can feel your eyelids growing heavy, exhaustion taking over your small body. The steady rhythm of the man’s heart combined with the gentle rocking of his arms as he walks send a wave of fatigue through you. You try to fight back the overwhelming tiredness, but another small, squeaky yawn escapes your little mouth.

With a soft contented sigh, you stretch out your little paws, making yourself comfortable in his arms. The man lets out a low chuckle as he watches your little legs extend, giving you a gentle pat on the back.

It’s strangely comforting, being held in the man’s strong arms. The sound of his laughter rumbles through his chest, and you can almost hear a hint of affection in the gesture. You feel the weight of your fatigue start to increase, your eyes slowly blinking shut against your will.

You blearily blink your eyes open, suddenly finding yourself lying on a soft cushion. The fabric feels luxurious against your fur, the plush material enveloping you in a comfortable embrace. You dazedly look around, trying to recall how you ended up on this soft surface.

Your little ears fold back as you look around, slowly taking in your surroundings. A brief moment of confusion washes over you as you realize that you had fallen asleep in the man’s arms. But seeing him still here, you let out a relieved sigh, your entire fluffy body moving up and down in the process. Thank everything that he didn’t leave me on the side of the road.

He glances over at you, noticing that you’re now awake. “You finally back with the living?” he says gruffly, his voice tinged with amusement. You can see a hint of a smile on the man’s face, betraying his hard exterior.

You lift your chin up in a defiant huff, letting your tail flick against the soft cushion as an additional statement of irritation. The man lets out a snort, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter at your small act of feigned irritation.

“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” he mutters, his voice taking on a slightly amused tone. He reaches a hand out to give you a small pat on the head, his rough fingers gently stroking your fur.

Your chest lets out a soft rumble, purring at the feeling of his hand stroking through your fur. Your gaze drifts around the room, your nose twitching as you pick up on a delicious scent. Food, your stomach rumbles. Please, be food.

The aroma is tantalizing, making your little stomach grumble loudly in response. You wonder if it's your imagination, or if the man actually has food nearby. The man lets out another amused huff as he notices your nose twitching and your stomach rumbling. “Impatient little thing, eh?” he mutters, lifting his hand from your head to look at you with a slightly entertained expression. Your little paws twitch slightly, as if you’re preparing to go searching for where the wonderful scent is coming from.

He chuckles at your eagerness, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Calm down, bud,” he says gruffly. “Food’s coming in a minute. Ain’t gonna starve ya.’” He gives you another gentle pat on the head, his hand large enough to practically cover your entire body.

You let out a dissatisfied huff, your gaze still darting around to try and find the source of the delicious scent. You want to rush out and find the food immediately, but the man's large hand keeps you pressed firmly on the soft cushion. You squirm a little impatiently, your tail flicking idly against the fabric. Your cat instincts taking over.

He lets out an amused laugh at your squirming, your restlessness making it hard for him to keep you in place. “Hold still,” he says gruffly. “You're making it hard to keep you in one place.” He reaches his hands out again and gently holds you down, preventing you from moving around any further.

You’re not a fan of this guy keeping you down, your instincts flaring up in defiance. Despite the delicious promise of food in the air, you’re tempted to lash out and scratch him just for holding you in one spot. Release me, your inner self growls.

You pause in your struggle, your little ears perking up and your whiskers twitching as the clink of dishes and the soft sound of footsteps approaching comes from nearby. Your nose twitches with anticipation, the delicious smells in the air becoming more concentrated. Food.

You crane your head to get a better look at the approaching figure, your little body shifting slightly on the cushion. The man holding you down also looks up, watching as someone walks into the room carrying a tray of food. Your little mouth starts to salivate, the enticing scents wafting over to you and making your stomach rumble loudly.

The guy releases his grip once you stop squirming, letting you move freely again. You can feel your instincts taking over your little body, your tail curling around your side as you focus your attention on the tray of food being presented in front of you. “Here you are, Master Jason.”

Your eyes are almost glued to the tray, filled with the most tantalizing smells that you've come across. The man– Jason watches you quietly, amused by your little display. The person holding the tray sets the food down in front of you, the various dishes arranged in an almost tempting manner.

You want to purr in delight as you look at the food laid before you. Thank god there’s none of that dreadful cat food in sight. You've had your fair share of people trying to feed you that horrible kibble in the past, and you're definitely not a fan. This food smells a million times better than anything that ever came out of a can. Meat.

You shoot him a glance of appreciation before hopping onto the table, greedily pouncing on the food in front of you. You dive right in, devouring the food with gusto, your little tongue lapping at the meat hungrily.

You pay no mind to him as you feast on the delicious meal laid out in front of you. The smells, the texture, the taste; it’s all absolutely heavenly. You eat like you've never eaten before, your little body almost shaking with contentment. This might just be the best meal you’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.

Meanwhile, Jason watches your little display with a slight smirk on his face. He doesn’t say anything, just watching as you devour the food on the plate in front of you with relish. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, quickly taking a picture of you digging into the food to send to the family in case they ask how you're doing. He lets out a soft huff of amusement at your behavior, a hint of fondness in his eyes.

You're so lost in the food, you don't even notice the older man taking a picture of you. All your focus is singular, eating as much as you can before it’s taken away. The man watches you with a mix of amusement and something else that you can’t quite place. Too absorbed in your meal to notice his reaction.

Once you’ve practically licked the plate clean, you finally feel a sense of fullness, your little belly pleasantly satisfying. You give yourself a little shake, a little bit of food still stuck to your whiskers. Jason chuckles slightly, watching your little satisfied display. He breaks the silence as you finish cleaning yourself off.

“Had enough?” he asks in a gruff voice. His words are gruff and blunt, but you can sense the touch of amusement within them. You let out a little huff, feeling satisfied but also a little bit embarrassed at how fast you had eaten. Too much food, you think, your little stomach feeling a bit bloated.

The next thirty minutes pass by in a blur, your mind fuzzy and filled with the sensation of being inside Jason’s leather jacket as he mounts his bike. He doesn't have a bag or carrier to keep you secure, so you cling onto his shirt for dear life, your little claws digging tightly into the fabric. The wind whips through your fur as the bike roars to life, the force of the breeze making you instinctively cling even harder.

You had assumed that Jason was simply taking you back to the spot where he had found you under the car. After all, there was no chance in hell that you were going to poke your head out of the top of his jacket to check yourself. However, as he stops the bike and unzips the jacket, revealing your familiar surroundings, your tail begins to fluff up in surprise. Your eyes widen as you realize you’re at home, as in, right outside your apartment. The fur on your back bristles, ears folding back. You’re quick to jump off of the vehicle, backing away. What the fuck?

You scramble off Jason's lap and onto the sidewalk, your little paws almost slipping in your haste. The moment you land on the pavement, you take a few stumbling steps back, your tail puffed up and your fur standing on end. How could he possibly know where you live? You hadn’t given away any indication that you lived here, or anywhere for that matter. You had been so careful to stay out of sight, blending into the shadows. There was no way he could have known. And yet… here you are, outside your home. You take a tentative step back, your little feet moving instinctively. Your instincts are screaming at you to run, to get away from this guy who seemingly knew too much about you.

Your eyes dart from the man to the building behind you, your mind racing. Everything inside you is telling you to run, to flee and go hide. You were supposed to be so careful, so cautious about keeping your identity a secret. And now this man standing in front of you, this guy you barely knew, had just pulled up right outside your home. How the hell did he know where you lived? Run, your instincts yell. Run, run, run.

You take another jerky step back, your little paws almost slipping on the rough pavement. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. You almost trip over your own feet, your mind flooded with a mix of fear and confusion. How does he know? How the fuck does he know!? You’ve been so careful, covering your tracks, making sure no one followed you home. But here he is, standing in front of you, looking all too calm and collected. You don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he knows where you live or how calm he seems about it.

You don't waste another second, your little feet moving as fast as they can. Your instincts are screaming at you to run and get away as fast as possible. So that's what you do. You take off like a shot, darting away from the bike, from the man, from everything. Your focus is on nothing except getting away, getting somewhere safe, somewhere away from this guy who apparently knew more than he should. You dart upstairs faster than you thought physically possible, breath coming out laboured as you panic, not bothering to check if anyone’s nearby as you shift back to human, unlocking your door and slamming it closed behind you.

Jason let out a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his hair in frustration as he watches you scamper off. "Fuck…” he mutters under his breath, watching as your small form quickly disappears from sight. "I didn’t think that through." He scowls, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He hadn’t expected you to panic quite that much.

Your knees suddenly give way, and you collapse to the floor with a thump. Your hand instinctively moves to press against your chest, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart. Your mind is racing, your body shaking from the adrenaline and panic of the situation. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of your own breathing, your chest heaving as you gasp in sharp breaths.

You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest, the adrenaline pumping through your veins making it feel like it’s about to explode. You can barely breathe, your gasps for air coming in quick, sharp pants. Your head is swimming, the world around you seeming to spin and tilt with each jerky movement. You can’t think straight, your mind filled with a swirling mix of panic and confusion. It feels like everything is closing in on you, the walls of your apartment suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

You try to focus on taking deep, calming breaths, but your body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. Your breaths come out ragged and uneven, each one feeling like a struggle. Your chest is heaving, your heart pounding against your ribcage so hard you’re starting to wonder if it’ll burst. You drop your head down, resting your forehead against your knees, trying to steady yourself. Your mind is racing, thoughts and questions and doubts swirling in a confusing mess.

You desperately try to calm down, to ease the frantic beating of your heart. But nothing seems to work, the panic and confusion making it nearly impossible to think straight. Your head spins as you struggle to take deep breaths, each one catching in your throat like a lump. You can feel your body trembling, your muscles tense and coiled like a spring about to snap. The thought of the man outside your door, the man that knew where you lived, makes your stomach twist in knots.

It feels like your privacy has been invaded, your safe sanctuary no longer feeling so safe. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like a small, trapped animal. Your mind races, trying to come up with some kind of plan, some kind of solution to this messed up situation. But you’re too lost in your own head, too focused on calming your panicked breathing to come up with anything coherent.

You feel like you’re drowning, your body overwhelmed by the flood of emotions and the physical response. You need to get yourself under control, to get your thoughts sorted out and figure out what the hell to do. But it feels like your mind and your body are in a constant tug-of-war with each other, neither one willing to give in. It’s like being stuck in a nightmare that you can’t wake up from.

You’re suddenly aware of the silence in your apartment. It’s an eerie stillness that seems to echo the chaos in your mind. The only sound is the soft rush of your own breathing, the beat of your heart a steady drum in your ears. It’s too quiet, and yet it’s almost deafening at the same time. You stay slumped on the floor, your head still against your knees, too overwhelmed to even think about getting up. You can’t breathe.

Your lungs feel like they’re on fire, each breath a struggle against the tight feeling in your chest. Your body is shaking, the adrenaline and panic having physical effects that you’re powerless to stop. You try to focus on calming yourself down, to get your breathing under control, but it’s like trying to hold onto water. Your lungs seizing up with each gasping breath. You try to focus on your breathing, trying to steady the erratic rhythm. But it’s like your body won’t obey, each inhale sharp and uneven, each exhale ragged. You can feel your pulse throbbing in your temples, echoing the desperate rhythm of your heart. You need to get yourself together, to calm down. You need to calm down.

You try to mentally force yourself to calm, to slow down your breathing, but it’s like every part of your body is working against you. Your thoughts are a tangled mess, swirling around in your head like a storm. Your heart is still racing, the panic and fear making it almost impossible to concentrate. You try to focus on something, anything to try and control the chaotic mess that is your mind. But your thoughts keep slipping away, dancing just out of reach every time you try to grasp them. You can't think, you can't breathe, you can't move.

You’re trapped in your own mind, your own body. You feel so small, so helpless, so utterly alone. The silence in your apartment is deafening, adding to the feeling of isolation. You try to will yourself to move, but you’re stuck, paralyzed by your own fear and panic. Your heart is still thundering in your chest, the erratic beats echoing in your ears as you try to force your lungs to take slow, steady breaths. You need to calm down. You need to.

You force your shoulders to relax, your eyes fluttering open. Okay, okay… You can do this. You try to remember the steps you learned for managing panic attacks. Breathe in for four, hold for… You can’t think. Your brain is fuzzy, filled with a jumbled mess of thoughts and memories. You try to remember the proper way to do it but your mind refuses to cooperate. Four or seven? Or was it nine? Exhale for eight. Fuck, I can’t think.

Your mind is a blur, your thoughts chaotic and tangled. You can’t remember the step-by-step process. Something about breathing in for a certain number of seconds, holding it, and exhaling for another number of seconds. But the details are a hazy mess, your panic making it impossible to remember clearly. You try your best, sucking in a shaky breath and holding it for what you think is the right amount of time. But your heart is still racing, your hands still trembling. It’s not working. Why isn’t it working? Why the fuck isn’t it working?

Jason stands against his bike, his gaze fixed on the window of your apartment. He's on the phone with Bruce, his voice low and filled with frustration. "I know, I know…" he mutters, raking a hand through his hair. "I fucked up," he admits, grimacing at his own carelessness.

He listens as Bruce responds, his eyes never leaving the window. He can feel the weight of his mistake sitting heavily on his shoulders. He should have known that you'd react the way you did, and he should have stuck to the plan. But he didn’t. He just acted, without thinking. Just like always, his conscience needles him.

Jason sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly as Bruce continues to speak. He knows Bruce is right, he always is. He’s good at saying the things that are hard to hear but desperately needed to be said. It’s part of what makes him great, but it also makes him irritating sometimes. Like right now.

"I know," Jason replies, his voice slightly sharp. "I get it. But what am I supposed to do now?"

There’s a pause as Bruce replies, his voice muffled over the phone. Jason’s face tightens, his jaw clenching as he listens. Yeah, yeah. Be patient. Easy for you to say.

"I know,” he repeats, his voice strained. "But the kid bolted before I could even get a word in. Now they’re probably scared shitless in there."

There's another pause. Jason can hear the steady timbre of Bruce’s voice on the other end, his words blending in a stream of low, soothing murmurs. He rolls his eyes, bristling at the older man's calm, steady tone. It always makes him feel like a kid being lectured, even though a part of him knows it’s not entirely untrue.

He lets out another sigh, his body sagging against his bike. "I’m trying," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I messed up, alright? I’ll give ‘em time to cool off." He glances back at your apartment, a pang of something he can’t quite identify tugging at his chest.

He nods along to whatever Bruce is saying, his eyes flickering back to your apartment window. He wonders if you're watching him from behind those blinds, if you’re scared, angry, confused. Probably all three, his mind supplies.

He winces at the thought, his hand tightening around his phone. He hates the thought that he might have screwed this up before it even really started. Bruce is probably right, he should give you space. But the thought of just leaving you alone and confused chafes at him, makes him want to just go in there and fix things already. He knows Bruce can feel his tension, can sense the turmoil roiling beneath his stoic exterior. Damn Batman and his stupid emotional intuition.

"Yeah, I get it," he mutters into the phone, his voice tight. "I’ll back off, give them space. But I don’t like it." There's another pause as Bruce responds, his voice low and steady.

It soothes something in him, a part of him that still yearns for guidance and approval, even though he knows he’ll never admit it. It’s a part of him that he usually denies, pushes down, but moments like these have a way of bringing it to the surface.

He's silent for a moment, letting Bruce speak. The older man's voice is steady, a low, grounding murmur that somehow manages to both soothe and irritate him at the same time. He's always been good at that, somehow finding the exact words needed to either calm him down or piss him off even more.

Jason clenches his jaw, grinding his teeth together in frustration. He’s torn. Part of him wants to just march up there, kick down the door and force you to talk to him. But he also knows that would just make things worse. He’s not good at the whole patience thing, but he knows that just charging in like a bull in a china shop is only going to make things more difficult. Damn it. He swings his leg over his bike, settling onto the seat. He takes one final look up at your window, his gaze lingering there for a moment. He can almost feel the weight of your fear and confusion from here, like a tangible thing. It makes his stomach twist into knots, his hands clenching on the grips.

But he knows he needs to let you be, to give you the space you clearly need. So, with a heavy sigh, he revs the engine and pulls away.

You wake up with a start, your body jerking out of a fitful sleep. Your body is covered in a cold sweat, your clothes sticking to your skin in an unpleasant way. You sit there in the darkness, your breathing heavy and your heart thumping hard in your chest.

Your room is still, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft sounds of the city outside your window.

Three long weeks have passed since you last saw Jason. The days have slipped by in a blur of routine and monotony. You go to work, come home, eat, sleep, repeat. It's like you're living your life on autopilot, your thoughts often drifting to the man who showed up at your door that night.

Since that night, you haven’t shifted. Something deep inside you, some instinctual feeling, tells you that it’s not safe to do so. So you stay human, your animal form buried deep within you, a constant low hum of unease. The feeling of something bad happening if you shift is a constant nagging in the back of your mind, a feeling you can’t shake despite your attempts to dismiss it as paranoia.

The longer you stay human, the stronger your instincts become. You catch yourself acting cat-like in subtle ways: tilting your head to the side when you're listening, twitching at sharp noises, even finding yourself kneading at your shirt when you’re frustrated. It’s a constant internal struggle, your instincts demanding to be let out while your rational mind tells you to keep them contained. You know it’s not healthy, not sustainable, but you can’t shake the feeling that shifting is just too risky right now.

You’re acutely aware of how unhealthy this is. You can feel the tension building within you, the constant battle between your human side and your animal side wearing you down mentally and emotionally. Your thoughts are constantly consumed with the need to shift, the need to be in your animal form, the need to let your instincts take over. But something inside you is holding you back, some primal fear that won’t let you let go. It’s a constant struggle you can’t escape, a constant mental strain that's slowly but surely eating away at your sanity.

You groggily stumble out of bed, the cool night air hitting your skin like a refreshing splash of water. It’s late, the digital clock on your bedside table reading 2:47 AM. You shiver slightly, your muscles tight and cramped from your restless sleep. Despite the chill in the air, you can’t help the feeling of relief as you step out onto your balcony. The city is quiet at this hour, the usual bustle of the day replaced with a soothing, almost eerie calm.

In a moment of clarity, you realize you’re being ridiculous. You’re tired, you’re frustrated, and damn it you’re tired of living in constant fear. You’ve been tormenting yourself for weeks over this, letting your instincts fester and your body ache from the strain. And for what? What's going to happen in the middle of the night on a Wednesday? Nothing, that’s what. And you’re not going to keep making yourself ill over some bastard stalker.

With a rush of determination, you finally give in. You let your instincts take over, your body shifting and contorting into your animal form. The relief is immediate, the tension in your body melting away as you shed your human skin. The cool night air is even more refreshing in this form, your senses heightened as you take in the night around you. Finally, you feel like you can breathe again, the weight of your human anxieties falling away like a heavy coat. You felt free.

The world looks different through your animal eyes, the details sharper and more defined. Your ears twitch, picking up sounds you'd never notice in your human form. Your muscles twitch as your animal instincts kick in, a low purring sound rumbling through your chest. It's been so long since you've let yourself be like this, since you've just been. It's exhilarating, freeing, like coming up for air after being stranded underwater for too long.

You pad over to the edge of the balcony, your paws making almost no sound on the wood. You look out at the city, the glittering lights and silent streets a stark contrast to the chaotic hum during the day. It’s quieter, calmer, a sense of peace that you haven’t felt in ages. You take a deep breath, the air filling your lungs and making your fur stand on end. You feel more alive here, more yourself, than you have in weeks.

Your muscles ripple under your fur as you stretch, arching your back and tilting your head back. A low, rumbling purr vibrates in your chest, the contentment filling you almost overwhelming. You close your eyes, letting the sounds and smells of the city wash over you. You’ll deal with everything else in the morning. For now, you’re going to stay like this and enjoy the freedom.

You sit there for a while, enjoying the cool night air and the sensation of being so deeply in tune with your instincts. The city sounds become a soothing background noise, a comforting hum in the air. You roll onto your back, stretching out your body and letting your limbs go limp. Your tail swishes lazily back and forth.

You roll onto your stomach, your muscles coiling as you prepare to spring. With a powerful leap, you propel yourself onto the nearby roof. Your paws touch down silently, the soft pads muting any sound. Your heart is racing now, the adrenaline rushing through your veins as you break into a run. Running as an animal is different than running as a human. It’s more instinctual, more right. You can feel the ground underneath your paws, the muscles in your legs bunching and releasing with every step. You tear across the rooftops, feeling more alive than you have in weeks. The night air whistles in your ears, the city passing by in a blur.

Your stride is effortless, muscles straining as you push yourself faster, the wind ruffling your fur and making your tail fan out behind you. You leap effortlessly from rooftop to rooftop, your body a blur of motion. You’re not even thinking about where you’re going, your only focus is on the sensation of speed, the feeling of freedom. Gotham flashes past you in a dizzying array of lights and shadows, your world narrowing down to your heartbeat and the rhythm of your paws hitting the roof.

Time seems to blur together as you run, the hours flying by like seconds. The city blurs past you in a wash of colors and sounds, the lights of Gotham like stars in a night sky. You don’t focus on how long you’ve been running, or how far you’ve gone, or even where you’re going. For once, none of that matters. All that matters is the wind in your fur and the feeling of freedom coursing through your veins. Your body is sore and your heart is racing, but you feel alive.

You're so focused on the run that you don't notice the black boots in your path until you're upon them. You slam on the brakes, your body slipping and sliding as you come to an undignified halt in front of a pair of long, outstretched legs. You hiss in surprise and frustration, your heart racing from the sudden stop. You glare up at the figure towering above you, tail lashing.

Nightwing chuckles, a soft, amused sound that you can hear clearly even over the pounding of your heart. He lowers his eskrima sticks, holding them loosely by his side as he kneels down to your level. The hero's eyes are sparkling with mirth, his smile slightly crooked.

"Well, hello there." he says, his voice smooth and rich.

He tilts his head to the side, studying you with a curious gaze. You're still panting from your run, your body tense and braced for a fight. Nightwing's smile widens at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with intrigue.

"You're pretty fast," he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice. He extends his hand towards you, the black, latex covering his fingers gleaming in the low light. He stops just millimeters from your face, allowing you to sniff and inspect him for a moment. His scent is clean and crisp, a hint of something sweet mixed in.

After a few seconds, he starts gently petting you, his gloved hand scratching behind your ears in a soothing motion. “You’re even prettier in person, kitten.”

A wave of unexpected pleasure washes over you as he starts petting you. His touch is firm yet gentle, just the right amount of pressure to soothe the tension in your body. His hand moves from behind your ears to scratching behind your chin, the soft hiss of latex against your fur the only sound in the quiet night. The petting feels ten times better after not shifting after such a long time. You lean heavily into his palm.

“You’re a runner, huh?” Nightwing murmurs, his voice a soft rumble. “Bruce isn’t gonna like that.”

His words are casual, almost conversational, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness to them. He continues to pet you, his hand moving in a slow, soothing rhythm.

“Running around Gotham like this,” he continues, his tone dropping lower. “It’s dangerous. You should stick to the rooftops, little one. Makes it harder for the baddies to get to you.”

As your attention is occupied with looking up at Nightwing, you don’t recognise the second pair of boots that approach. You’re jolted out of your thoughts as another pair of warm hands suddenly scoop you up, grabbing your stomach and lifting you off the ground. The sensation is so sudden and unexpected that you don’t even have time to react. A startled yowl escapes you as you’re lifted off the roof and held against a broad chest.

Your body stiffens in surprise, a low hiss escaping your clenched teeth. Your instincts are screaming at you to flee, to lash out, to fight, but the hands have you in an unbreakable grip.

Nightwing straightens up, sliding his eskrima sticks into their holsters with a practiced flick of his wrists. He casts you a glance, his eyes softened with concern as he looks at your tense form in Robin’s arms.

"Careful, Little D," he says, a slight edge to his voice. "The kitty hasn’t been out in a long time."

Damian just scoffs in response, his grip on you tightening. His body is tense, his hands clenching in your fur, but there’s a gleam of curiosity in his eyes that betrays his indifference. His voice is as haughty as ever, a touch of impatience in his tone. "I know that, Grayson. I'm not a child."

Nightwing hums at Robin’s attitude, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against a nearby AC unit with a slight sigh.

"Sure you're not,” he responds back to Robin with a playful tone of annoyance.

Damian just huffs, tightening his grip on you, causing you to let out a surprised, muffled meow in response. His eyes dart down to you, a slight flicker of fascination in his cold, calculated gaze. He loosens his hold subconsciously. Petting your head in a silent apology.

The younger boy doesn’t respond to Dick’s remark, motioning for him to hurry up already.

With a grin, Dick holds his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. He reaches into his utility belt and procures a small, emerald green and black collar. A symbol you can’t recognise embroidered onto the back where the latch is.

This isn't any average collar that you can find at a pet store. This is high-tech, bordering extravagant. There's a small, golden bell hanging from the front, jingling softly with every little movement made, and there’s a silver, gold-edged tag already attached with some information you can't see yet. But what catches your eye, and fills you with a sense of dread, is the blinking red light on the centre, where it latches onto your neck. With these hook-like latches all around the inside that look all too much like they’ll pierce into you.

Before you can even think to react, Nightwing's already moving. He's faster than you can even register, the collar snatching around your neck in the blink of an eye. It tightens automatically, locking into place with a soft click. You can feel the hooks pierce into your fur and you let out a strangled whine.

As the collar locks into place, the bell on the front gleams in the low light, a soft jingle sounding as you jerk your head back in surprise.

Nightwing steps back, taking in the sight of you in the collar with a critical eye. He reaches forward and gives the bell a couple of light taps, the sound chiming softly in the night air.

"Looks good," he comments, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "Tim did good."

Damian hums in agreeance with a slight nod, his grip on you still firm and unrelenting. He casts a scrutinising glance over your form, his eyes lingering on the collar for a moment before moving back to you. He brings his thumb to the latch, pushing into the embroidered symbol. “What was the cast?”

As Damian brings his thumb to the latch, pressing into the embroidered symbol, you hear a soft click, followed by a low chime. You feel the collar loosen around your neck, but it still stays in place. For a moment, you consider trying to tear it off, but a warning tug from the collar's hooks and a glare from Damian stop you short.

Dick grins. “It’s our kittens name, D.”

Damian scowls, rolling his eyes, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he turns his attention back to you, his eyes studying your form intently. It's almost unnerving, the intensity of his gaze.

He presses his thumb against the seal harder, his voice a murmur as he utters your name. When you feel the collar tighten around your neck, you try to jerk your head back out of the way, but the collar holds fast, the hooks attaching themselves deeper into your fur. You try to resist, but the more you struggle, the more your mind grows fuzzy. An intense drowsiness rushes over you, your eyelids growing impossibly heavy. Your vision starts to swim, the world around you growing dark at the edges. As the collar locks into place, the hooks latching more snugly into you, you suddenly feel trapped. Your legs buckle underneath you, sending you sprawling into Damian's arms. The latch on the collar is gone, replaced by a solid, unbreakable ring. There is no way to take it off.

The collar appears deceptively normal, made of a thick dark green leather-like material with a simple golden buckle to secure it. The only thing that gives away its high-tech design is the absence of a latch to clip it open. Most people would overlook it, mistaking it for a regular, ordinary collar.

As you black out and lay heavily in Damian's arms, Dick coos softly, bringing a hand out to rub along your fur. His touch is gentle, his tone affectionate.

"Aren't they so cute asleep?" he whispers, his gaze softening as he looks at your unconscious form.

Damian nods silently in response, his embrace around you tightening just slightly, tugging you closer against his chest. He brings his face down, gently nuzzling his chin into your soft, multicoloured fur, hiding the hint of a smile on his lips.

Dick steps forward, a smile on his face as he watches his younger brother hold you close. He reaches out to ruffle Damian's hair affectionately, before speaking up.

"Let's go home."

Guess who spent three days working on this

Anyway, it’s finally out! Send a comment or msg if you would like to be @ in chapter two and for any anon answers that I do for the fic

I had milk and warm cookies while making this, like a child.

[divinector]

Bootstrap Landing Page Website Design

[tsunodaradio]

a movie i’ve seen before ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

you kiss me in your car / and it feels like the start of a movie i’ve seen before.

ꔮ starring: lando norris x indie singer!reader. ꔮ smau + word count: 1.3k. ꔮ includes: romance, angst with a happy ending. profanity, mentions of a car accident. lando yearns :(, references to mcalpine songs. face claim: lizzy mcalpine. ꔮ commentary box: this was inspired by my perpetual amusement over ceilings being in lando's sunshine & tan lines playlist. back to back dedication for @norrisradio and @binisainz, who both love ceilings, lando, and yearning, in no particular order. i adore u both! 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Liked by user1, user2, and others spotify As Lando prepares for the new season, he’s created an exclusive Spotify playlist, Sunshine & Tan Lines, that gives fans an inside look at how music helps him get into the right mindset. Link in bio! 🔗

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user1 post malone enjoyer lando seems just about right user2 Life Is A Highway is PEAK. user3 is that... yourusername???????? ⤷ user4 LMAO same. Like ? Lando listens to INDIE MUSIC?!

Liked by lucydacus, hozier, and others yourusername been getting a lot of love for 'ceilings' as of late. thank you thank you thank you. if you're new here, welcome! new music soon 🎤🎸🌧️

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user1 FAWKKK I WAS TRYNA GATEKEEP U KWEEN user2 Here because of lando!! ⤷ user3 Here BEFORE lando. #OG user4 ceilings plaster 😭😭 can you just make it move faster 😭😭 user5 i need everybody to name three other songs if they want #rights

Liked by carlossainz55, danielricciardo, and others mclaren but it's over!!! then you're driving me home!!! 🗣️

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user1 HELLOOOO??? user2 they got lando doing the ceilings trend omfg user3 Somebody teach this boy how to run. wth. user4 the marketing yourusername must be getting rn is crazyyy user5 Can we get an Oscar version? ⤷ user6 PLS ADMIN PLS 🏃🏃🏃 ⤷ user7 need the entire grid to do this trend actually

NOVEMBER 2023.

BUT IT'S OVER / THEN YOU'RE DRIVING ME HOME / AND IT KINDA COMES OUT / AS I GET UP TO GO.

it rains on your first date.

lando makes a joke about it—something about pathetic fallacy, as if the sky itself knew this was going to be the most cliché first date in existence. you roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betray you, tugging upward as you sit beside him in his car. the streetlights flicker, casting gold against the windshield. the world outside is a blur of neon reflections and puddles swallowing headlights whole.

he drums his fingers against the steering wheel, like he’s keeping tempo with a song only he can hear. maybe it’s nerves. maybe it’s habit. either way, you don’t say anything about it. you’re too busy memorizing the way his hands move—too busy committing the weight of this moment to memory.

“did you have a good time?” he asks, voice soft, hesitant, like he’s afraid of the answer.

“no,” you deadpan, just to watch the flicker of panic in his eyes. then you laugh, because his reaction is too good, too easy. “i had a great time.”

he exhales, shaking his head, but there’s that smile again—the one that feels like it was meant for you and you alone. the one you already know you’ll be chasing after, in stolen glances and half-lit rooms.

outside, the rain doesn’t let up. it batters against the roof, slides in rivulets down the glass. neither of you move to leave.

“so, what now?” lando asks, but he says it like he already knows. like he’s just waiting for you to close the space between you.

and you do. slowly, deliberately. like you’re walking a tightrope between hesitation and inevitability. like you’re terrified of falling, but already know the landing will be soft.

his breath is warm, mingling with yours in the in-between. the world shrinks, folds itself neatly into the space of this car, into the inches that disappear when he finally, finally closes the distance.

you kiss him, and it feels like the beginning of something. like the first page of a story you already know by heart. like the opening credits of a film you’ll play on repeat.

outside, the rain keeps falling. inside, everything else stops—

Liked by phoebebridgers, mothercain, and others yourusername proof of life. ep out soon, but for now i offer y'all 'called you again' 📞🛌💭 link in bio to listen innn

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user1 omg new yourusername music. it's going to be a good day. user2 SO excited for the EP !! user3 oomf the song is soooo,, who hurt u ☹️ user4 Pay for my therapy man user5 wait is this lando's gf?

Liked by yukitsunoda0511, alex_albon, and others lando making my bed and sleepin in it by myself

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user1 lando on film supremacy ✌️ user2 The polaroid >>>> user3 am i crazy or is the caption from yourusername's new song? ⤷ user4 Riiiight 😵‍💫 The lyric that's "So I make my bed and sleep in it alone" ⤷ user5 can't get over the revelation that lando is an indie enthusiast ⤷ user6 In my K-pop fandoms this could only mean one thing... user7 what i'd give to be in lando's bed </3 what who said that

Liked by djotime, clairo, and others yourusername you'd rather die than take your eyes off me. last one before the full ep. glad to have benkessler on this one with me 🚗🌲💥 drive safe, everyone

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user1 Wait A Dang Second user2 ARE Y'ALL SEEING WHAT I'M SEEEEEEING 👀👀👀 ⤷ user3 I'm not insane. That has to be lando? Right?? user4 Omg, I love Ben! This was such a beautiful song! user5 the way the track ends. geeeez 😮‍💨 user6 lando what are u doin here user7 came running here after the twitter thread ⤷ user8 rt!!! feeling like sherlock raynow fr fr

FEBRUARY 2024.

I DIDN'T MEAN TO KISS YOU / I MEAN, I DID, BUT I DIDN'T THINK IT'D GO THIS FAR / I DIDN'T MEAN TO KISS YOU / NOW YOU CAN'T FOCUS ON THE ROAD WHEN I'M IN YOUR CAR.

—everything stops.

one second, he’s laughing, something careless and cocky slipping past his lips. the next, there’s a tree where the road used to be, and the world is jerking sideways.

the impact is loud. metal shrieks. the seatbelt locks across his chest like a hand pressing him back into his seat, and the airbag—fuck, it goes off too late, because his head snaps forward before he’s forced back again. it’s not hard enough to hurt. not really. but enough that he knows he’s going to feel it tomorrow.

his pulse hammers in his ears, and for a second, all he can do is breathe. inhale, exhale, blink, exist.

then—

“lando.”

he turns. you’re there, wide-eyed, hands gripping the dashboard like you could hold the car together through sheer force of will. but you’re whole. you’re okay.

his hands shake. adrenaline or fear or something bigger, something nameless. he drags them through his hair, then presses them against the steering wheel like he can steady himself through contact alone.

“fuck,” he exhales. it’s almost a laugh, but the edge is too sharp. “fuck.”

“are you—” your voice catches, and he hates that he put that there, that crack in your composure. “are you okay?”

lando nods too fast. too many times. “yeah. yeah, i—” he laughs, because what else can he do? “well. that’s, uh. that’s one way to end a date.”

you don’t laugh. your hands unclench from the dashboard, flex and tighten into fists against your thighs. when you look at him, it’s not with relief. it’s not even anger. it’s something heavier, something that makes his chest feel like it’s caving in.

“i told you to keep your eyes on the road.”

he swallows. his mouth is dry. he thinks about deflecting. thinks about turning this into a joke, another stupid anecdote, another story to be told with a grin and a shrug.

but he can’t. not with the way you’re looking at him.

“i know.”

silence presses in around you both, thick and unbearable.

lando doesn’t know how to say it. that the car wasn’t the only thing out of control. that he’d felt it, this thing between you, humming electric under his skin, pulling his attention like gravity. that maybe—maybe—some reckless, ugly part of him hadn’t wanted to look away. because he knew the moment he did, this would all slip through his fingers. the moment would end. you’d get out of the car, out of his reach, and he wouldn’t know how to pull you back.

so he hadn’t looked away.

and now, here you both are, headlights flickering against wet leaves, the smell of burnt rubber clinging to the air.

“i’m sorry, love,” he practically whimpers. like he’s a kid who’s afraid. and maybe he is, maybe he is. a kid. afraid. sorry. all that.

you exhale, slow and shaky. then you reach for his hand.

not to pull away. not to let go.

just to hold—

Liked by francolapinto, isackhadjar, and others lando i'll book the marching band to play as u speak

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user1 b&w lando is something i didn't know i needed until i got it user2 Where's that one Twitter conspiracist?? Because that caption is literally a lyric from 'doomsday' 🧐 ⤷ user3 FUCK URE RIGHT ⤷ user4 we're basically watching yourusername x lando communicate through ig captions. insane. user5 LN is either a huuuge yourusername fan... or her bf. LOL ⤷ user6 Lando is going thru it and you're LOL-ing user7 'doomsday' having the line "i would've married you / if you'd have stuck around",, moots they are exes 💔 user8 Who took these pics? Lovee the third one user9 te amo lando oscarpiastri insane mating call ⤷ user10 HELP WHAT DOES HE MEAN ⤷ user11 oscar confirming that this broody ass post is a mating call ⤷ user12 They're in love, your honor!! 🧡

🎙️ YOURUSERNAME INTERVIEW WITH GQ.

Liked by user1, user2, and others ln4updates 📍 Tokyo

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user1 The shades + white shirt combo is lethal. user2 girlie having a lando shirt is SOOO #me user3 hear me out: i know he's here ahead of the gp, but you know who else is in japan ? ⤷ user4 YUPPP!!! 🙂‍↕️ ⤷ user5 yourusername JPN stop at suntory hall ... ⤷ user6 Omg i saw op's post, these pics were taken in Minato. What's in Minato? Suntory Hall. Who's performing there tonight? You fucking guessed it.

APRIL 2025.

IT'S ALWAYS ON THE TIP OF MY TONGUE / BUT I STOP MYSELF FROM SAYIN' IT / TELL MYSELF IT'S NOT THE RIGHT TIME OR SOMETHING DUMB.

—just to hold. just to hold on to something, even when you shouldn’t.

lando has always been good at that. gripping too tight, hoping too much, holding on long past the point of reason. you told him once—gently, painfully—that love shouldn’t be like that. shouldn’t be desperate or clinging or stubborn in the face of an inevitable ending.

but then, inevitably, you’re here. in his car, again.

rain spatters against the windshield. the city glows beyond the glass, blurred and buzzing. neither of you speak. maybe if you don’t, it won’t count as something real. maybe if you don’t, you can pretend this is just another night, another drive, another moment before the fall.

lando’s fingers drum against the steering wheel. he hasn’t started the car. hasn’t moved, except for the twitch of his hand, the flick of his gaze towards you. “tell me this is a bad idea,” he says.

“it’s a bad idea,” you say, but it doesn’t sound convincing. not when he’s looking at you like that. not when the space between you is charged and crackling, like something waiting to ignite.

he exhales a laugh. “liar.”

you don’t argue. don’t say anything at all. because he’s right. because if you were really sure this was a mistake, you wouldn’t be here. wouldn’t be watching the way his hands grip the wheel, the way his jaw clenches like he’s bracing for impact. like he already knows how this ends and he’s still willing to crash into it for the chance to hold on.

“say it,” he says, quieter now. “tell me to let go.”

it would be easy. you could say it and mean it and walk away. but then lando shifts, turns fully toward you, and suddenly it’s too late. suddenly, it’s just like before. your breath catches, your heart stumbles, and his eyes—god, his eyes—

“i can’t,” you whisper.

and just like that, he’s kissing you. your lips press together in the space between regret and hope, between the past and whatever comes next.

just like that, you’re back where you started.

maybe you should know better. maybe he should, too.

but for now—

lando sighs into the kiss like he’s been holding his breath since the day you walked away. his hand finds your cheek, thumb brushing soft, tentative. like he’s making sure you’re real.

like he’s afraid you might disappear again.

when you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours. he doesn’t open his eyes. neither do you.

“i don’t want to do this if we’re just going to—” you pause, press your lips together, inhale. “if we’re going to crash again.”

“i know.”

“we have to be careful this time.”

lando nods, his hand still cradling your face, his thumb still moving—slow, steady, certain.

“we will be,” he says, he promises, and you believe him.

you want to. you have to.

Liked by lando, oscarpiastri, and others yourusername orange show speedway

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user1 got progressively more insane as i kept swiping user2 WE ARE SO BACK (?????) ⤷ user3 WHATEVER IT IS WE ARE SO HERE!!! 🎉 user4 Congrats or sorry for whatever happened but I Need that Snoopy... user5 f1ndie is actually my fever dream. thank you for your service. user6 So can we safely assume all of the songs in 'five seconds flat' are for Lando? 🥹 lando how reckless of you ❤️ Liked by creator

[chososdiscordkitten]

Fight Back!

Synopsis: Play Fighting w/ the jjk men :D

Includes: 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚, 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 Content: a sprinkle of nsfw, no sex- just foreplay, manhandling, rough housing,

Dedicated to; this ask.

MDNI

Kento Nanami

Late at night—well after he came home from work, a few hours after dinner—he laid beside you with a book in hand. 

This was always your least favorite part before bed- knowing Nanami could never focus on reading unless it was in complete silence. And silence always made your mind whirr with a million thoughts, but not wanting him to think there was something wrong; You laid next to him- scanning his expression that seemed lacking in interest. 

"How's your book?" you whispered- pulling his focus and flashing his eyes over to you. 

Nanami pulled one of the hands from the book and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Boring." he sighed- eyes strained from looking at the little words. 

Watching him lay his eyes back onto the pages with a soft exhale. You knew once Kento had started a book- regardless of how uninteresting he was in it, he would try and finish it. 

You were the playful one in the relationship, trying to create excitement. You reached for the book, pulling it from Nanami's hands and quickly looking at the little number on the bottom. 

Closing it and holding it to your chest. "You're probably the only man I know who would ignore a woman in his bed for a book." you teased, watching his brow furrow with a soft smile. 

"I'm not ignoring you, honey-" he scoffed with a soft smile, reaching for the book only for you to move away. 

You pursed your lips, closing your eyes and making a feigned thinking noise. "Dunno- feelin' pretty ignored." you hummed, feeling his hand reach for the book again and turning away. 

He rose to his knees and exhaled. "Alright, that's enough—" he smiled, his tone full of endearment. 

You let out a small giggle-sitting up, and moving across the bed. Pressing your back against the sheets and watching his hands reach for it again, only for you to move away. "You want it so bad, take it from me." you giggled.

Nanami scoffed with a smile, accepting your dare. Reaching a hand out again, watching you tip onto your side with the book in hand. "Sooo close, Ken—" his words cut short as he touched your calf. 

Nanami's strong hand yanked you towards him with a soft huff, looking down at you with pursed lips. "Hand it over." he demanded- trying to make his tone sound stern, only for it to come out mixed with a chuckle. 

You planted your thigh beside his bent knee, his hand lightly caressing your calf, slowly raising on your leg. The book pressed against your chest, teasingly tilting your head against the bed. "I told you- Take it." egging him on as you pulled your calf from his softened grasp.  

Watching his jaw clench as he hooked his hand beneath your slightly bent knee, reaching the other to the book only for you to raise it up with both hands. 

Softly landing on top of you with your legs spread. One thigh pinned to the bed by Kento's forearm, the other on the side of his hip. Nanami's face looks up to your hands, giving you full access to his neck. His hips pressed against the back of your thighs with every little reach he made. 

You only giggled- slightly bucking your hips up against him and pressing a kiss to his neck. "Some gentleman you are," you whispered. Releasing the book onto the bed and shoving it further on the bed with the tips of your fingers. 

"Pinning a lady to the bed?" with a smile, placing your hand onto his side and humming against him.

A little laugh left his lips as he relinquished the urge to continue that book. He looked back at you and nodded his head. "It's your fault." he mumbled, planting his forearm next to your head and lightly resting his hips against you. 

Looking into his eyes as he leaned down slightly, you met him halfway. "It's never my fault." you whispered, lips brushing against his with a smug smile.

He gave you his attention instead of his book. Leaving you more than pleased.

Naoya Zenin

You had noticed Naoya spending way too much time on his phone. Anytime you started talking, Naoya would pick up that stupid piece of metal and scroll mindlessly. 

And instead of asking him why, you snatched the phone and ran to your bedroom. Throwing yourself onto the bed and opening it as fast as you could. 

When he stepped in, he reached for the phone in your hands, only to be met with a little kick. 

And with every reach Naoya made, he was met with a swat from your foot. "Give it back-" he huffed- kneeling at the foot of the bed as you scrolled through the apps. 

"No way-" you grinned, "I wanna see what's more important than me." kicking off his hands and shifting away from his grasp. 

That was till his hand finally got a good grip on your ankle- widening your eyes as he flipped you over. Naoya wasted no time sitting on the back of your thighs and planting his hand over your wrist. 

You tried shifting from his grasp as you held his phone with a firm hand. 

With clenched teeth, he leaned over to your ear, squeezing your wrist- "Give it." he gruffed against your ear. 

"What are you hiding?!" you huffed with a smile against the sheets- wholly pinned down and still putting up a fight. 

He only muttered a strained 'Nothing.' 

With every little shift, Naoya's huffs of struggling to hold you down turned softer- his cock brushing up against your ass with every movement you shifted beneath him. 

His breathing was heavy in your ear as he pressed his groin into your ass, "Are you-" you grinned, knowing that all too well the feeling jab at the swell of your bottom. Easing the grip on your wrist- gaining enough strength to push him off. 

Landing on the bed on his back- his cheeks flushed and eyes bordering on forming spirals from how riled up he had gotten. Only for you to straddle his thighs and scroll on his phone again. Softly grinding down onto his erection as you scrolled on his phone. 

When his shaky hand tried to reach for yours- another grind met his hips, along with swatting his hand away.

By the time you had opened every app and every message he had- Naoya was a blushing mess beneath you. Whimpers spilled from his lips as you locked his phone, "There was nothing…?" you muttered- feeling his hands rest on your thighs. 

His hand trying to urge your hips to move- "I told you." he breathed through clenched teeth. 

Pulling your lips to the side and tossing his phone haphazardly, "I guess you did." you smiled, looking down at him and softly grinding down against him. 

Choso Kamo

You had been awake for a while. You had made breakfast and got dressed for the day, but Choso was still in bed. He was too comfy and far too sleepy to even think about getting up. 

From the second you got up, he had been asking you to come back to bed. It was tempting, sure. But the apartment needed some serious cleaning, and grocery shopping had to be done. 

So, as you walked back into the bedroom- eager to make the bed. "Get up." you demanded, reaching for the blankets and watching Choso clutch them even harder. 

"No." he muttered, turning over and ignoring your pulling hands. 

You sighed, tugging the sheets even harder. "C'mon get up—I needa make the bed," you muttered. You went to the side where he was lying and lightly pushed his arm, watching Choso's eyes open and look up at you. 

He opened his arms and made a space for you. "Lay with me," he muttered, watching you purse your lips and reach for the blanket again. 

"It's two p.m, Cho," tugging the blanket and feeling resistance. You were about to tug again, only for his hand to wrap around your wrist and pull. 

Leaving you bent over on the edge of the bed- half your body on top of his as you let out a small laugh. His arms wrapping around you and placing his face onto the crook of your neck. 

Trying to pull away from him- only to be met with a strong hand holding you still. Going as far as lifting your feet from the ground and pulling with your knees on the edge of the bed. 

Completely entrapped by his arms as he refused to let up. 

You tried shifting from his grip- only for his arms to hold you tighter. "Let me-" you tried saying, only to be met with a small nibble against your neck. A small giggle leaving your throat at the tickle. 

Choso carelessly turned over with you in his arms. He hummed softly against your skin as you eased onto the center of the bed, his arms surrounding you with a small exhale. 

Holding onto you tightly and feeling your legs adjust- Shifting in his grasp only for him to hold you tightly. "Lemme get up-" you scoffed, only to be met with a hum against your skin. 

"Can't hear you m'asleep." he muttered against you. The vibrations of his voice rumbling against your skin. 

Lightly placing your hand onto his side and sighing, "How am I supposed to clean if you keep pullin' me back to bed every 10 minutes?" you grinned- easing into his touch and closing your eyes. 

"Don't clean." he hummed, holding you tighter. 

You decided to stop fighting back, resting in his arms. Knowing if you pulled away, he would reel you back in for 'a few more minutes.'

Hiromi Higuruma

Hiromi had this horrible habit of laying on top of you. He was barely changed out of his work clothes and into his pj's. And here he comes- fully prepared to let all his body weight fall onto you. 

Laying on the bed, phone in hand and watching him walk in- shaking a towel on his hair and tossing it aside. You tossed your phone aside with a sigh, preparing for the full weight of the grown man before you to crush you. 

You closed your eyes in a fake grimace- hearing a small laugh from his lips as he eased onto the bed. 

Exhaling a dramatic sigh as he pressed his face onto your collarbone. Fully easing his full body weight onto you. 

You huffed a teasing 'oof' as he snaked his hands beneath your waist. Holding you as you rested your hands onto his shoulders. Using him as a table as you scrolled on your phone again. 

"I never asked- why do you do that?" you grinned, placing your hand on his damp hair and hearing him hum against your shoulder. 

He smiled against your skin, "Do what?" playing coy. 

Smiling teasingly, "Crush me." hearing him let out a small laugh.

"I mean, you're a grown man- knocks the air out of my lungs." you grinned. 

"The day you can successfully push me off is the day I'll stop." he challenged, feeling your hand against his scalp halt its movements and place your phone to the side. 

Mustering all your strength, you started shoving his limp shoulders. Earning a hearty laugh from his lips- if anything, he made his body even more limp as you scoffed. 

You attempted to shift to the side. More of an effort to escape from under him rather than pushing him off.

Hiromi felt your attempts- and instead of helping, he made fake snoring sounds against your skin. Little rumbles tickling your skin, making it even harder to focus. Slightly tightening his grip on your waist as you huffed with a small smile.

Somehow managing to shift down enough to be face to face with him- "Give up yet?" he muttered, looking at your face- still full of determination. 

"You're not making this any easier-" you grinned, shifting your hand down his side. Hooking your leg onto his side- planting your other hand on the bed and gathering all the strength you could. 

Inhaling a sharp breath as you turned yourself over, taking him with you. Leaving you on top and his hips straddled between your thighs. 

Breathing heavily and looking down at him- his cheeks blushed with wide eyes. Confused as to where he was or how he ended on his back. 

Though Hiromi was taller- he wasn't the heaviest to flip over.

You looked down at him as you straightened your back. "I win," you huffed, looking at the man who looked at you with furrowed eyebrows.

"Did you just- manhandle me?" he murmured, watching your proud expression nod 'yes.' 

Hiromi pursed his lips, placing his hands on your thighs and caressing them softly. "I think I liked it." 

Satoru Gojo

While playing a video game in your shared bedroom, you sat up with your knees bent to the side. Gojo sat beside you, watching your attempts to beat the stupid level.

Pursing his lips whenever you would make a move he wouldn't have- "No, you have to-" 

"Shut up-" you muttered, nibbling your lip in concentration as he sighed. 

"Ohmygod-" you winced, watching the little character on the TV die. Muttering a soft "Fuck." as Satoru raised himself onto his knees. 

"My turn." he huffed, reaching for the control only for you to pull away. 

Looking at him with furrowed eyebrows- "It's your turn when I finish this level." pulling the remote from his reach. 

"You've been on this level for 20 minutes!" he scoffed, reaching for the remote again and pulling it from his grasp. 

You scoffed, "It's not your turn yet!" watching as he leaned over you, reaching for the remote you kept pulling away. 

"Just give it- I'll win so fast-" a smug smile on his lips as your bent knees pinned onto the bed- turning your torso around as he placed a hand onto your bottom for balance. 

Every little reach he made- his ground brushing against your core, simulating a position Satoru frequently put you in. "Lemme try one more time-" you huffed pulling the remote away.

That, along with the little shifts his wakening cock made against you, caused Gojo to place his hand on your hip and turn your over on all fours. Well. On your knees, one hand holding up your torso, the other holding the remote from his reach.

"N-no it's my turn." his tone more whiney and desperate. You chalked it up to Satoru being a big baby regarding silly things like this.

A soft grunt left your lips as he leaned over you again, his bulge pressing into your ass and reaching for the remote. A whimper left his lips- feeling flushed and blaming it on the struggle for that remote. 

Your chest pressed against the pillow, the hand holding you up collapsed- reaching back to him and trying to swipe him away. "Get off-" you grunted- feeling his hand wrap around your wrist and pin it to the center of your back. 

Softly bucking his hips onto your ass, the hand reaching for the remote losing its determination and huffing a strained whimper. 

His eyebrows pinched and cheeks a rosy shade of pink. Your wrist tried shaking off his hand- but his grip was too strong. 

You hadn't even acknowledged the familiar bulge pressing against your core in the struggle. You turned your head slightly on the pillows. Peering back at Gojo and wondering why he had stopped reaching for it. 

Gojo's face inches away from yours as your reaching hand holding the remote rested on the edge of the bed. Becoming aware of the jabbing against your warming cunt- only for Satoru to close the small space left between your faces and desperately rut against your bottom. 

Too out of breath and heart racing to think of why- his hips trying to find relief as you grunted against him. 

Closing your eyes with furrowed brows, only for Gojo to reach his hand to yours- taking the remote from your light grasp and pulling away from you. 

Smiling with a triumphant look on his face and letting you go. Easing away from you and resting on the other side of the bed again.

Ignoring his erection and pressing play on the control. You only looked at him with furrowed eyebrows- confused by what had just unfolded. 

Toji Zenin

You stood in the kitchen with him, prepping to make some sandwiches, as your eyes caught his all-too-tight shirt. 

You had been spouting about how you could take him in a fight for the past few minutes. 

His hands in his pockets as he heard you- "I'm a lot stronger than I look y'know," you grinned, placing the pieces of bread onto two plates. Turning to face him with a smug look, "like-" laughing to yourself as you thought up a comparison. 

"Like Mike Tyson strong." you grinned- watching the corners of his lips curl up. A small laugh left his nose- amused at your comparison. 

You clenched your teeth, a low grunt leaving your lips as you punched the air- aiming for his ribs.

Toji watched amused, as you took on a fighting stance. "You'd have no chance against me." you laughed, your fist aiming up- as though you were going to uppercut him. 

Watching him refuse to flinch or fight back. Allowing you to pummel his aura with a smile.

Fighting the air around him with small huffs- making a 'boom' sound every time you threw a punch. 

"M'sure you could." he muttered, tone full of sarcasm and watching you keep throwing hits against the air. Taking a step back and kneeing a few inches away from his torso. 

Your hands determined- aiming various punches around him as he watched you.

Toji huffed a small laugh as you angled your fist to his jaw- slowing your fist and lightly tapping his jaw, clicking your tongue as your knuckles made contact. 

You smiled to yourself as you eased off your so-called 'fighting stance'. Picking up the pack of turkey slices next to him, you turned around with a scoff— "Now, I know you're scared to actually fight me," you smiled, opening the fridge and placing the small pack of deli meat back. 

Scoffing, "I know you'd limp away with your ego bruised, so it's okay." closing the fridge and turning around- pleased look on your face with your eyes closed. 

Blinking your eyes open and seeing Toji in front of you- taking a step forward, caging you between the refrigerator and his torso. "My ego bruised?" he smiled. 

Watching that smug look on your face refuse to falter, only balling your fist into a ball and aiming another false punch at him. 

But his quick hand caught your wrist- gulping softly as his grip tightened. "Fight back." he murmured with a smile, lightly tilting his head. 

Watching your eyebrows furrow with a smirk, trying to pull your wrist from his hand only for it to move mere centimeters. 

"C'mon." he whispered, "You can do better than that." low eyes looking back at you. Slowly coming closer to you with every word.

You furrowed your eyebrows, using your other hand for another punch, only for his other hand to catch it. Nodding his head 'no' and pulling your wrists together. Toji held them in one hand and looked at you expectantly.

You gulped lightly, watching his eyes dim. A smug smile left your lips and formed on his. Whispering, "Fight back,"with a grin, feeling your hands try to pull from his.

An idea pops into your mind. Softening your furrowed brows, lowering your eyelids, and leaning in. Pressing a light kiss onto his lips, his hand eases its grip on your wrists. 

Toji didn't hesitate to kiss you back as he slowly pushed the back of your head back onto the fridge's metal.

Eagerly pressing his tongue against your bottom lip your hands released from his, placing one onto his ribcage and the other slowly trailing down to his bulge.

Keeping a ghostlike touch against his bulge- Toji's keen tongue slipping into your mouth. Completely forgetting what point he was trying to prove.

Pulling away from him and looking at his expression- puffy lips and lightly blushed cheeks. "Fight back." you whispered, smug and amused at how easy it was to get him to let you go.

-

(a.n) Im exhausted, need a cigarette, and cock. gn.

[chase-solidago]

Invasive Species and Xenophobia

Invasive species are complicated! People have a lot of feelings about them, positive and negative. Are plants that move "invaders" "colonizing", "immigrants", "citizens"? What does it mean to kill species that are from somewhere else? What if that species legitimately makes a poor neighbor and causes extinctions in other, native species? This complex, culturally-loaded issue is a foundational issue behind a lot of plant conservation and restoration.

This is a juicy and still actively disputed topic! The Guardian recently had a big article on colonialism in Botany, (tbh her views are dated and reductive, imo) and it’s come up again this week, to much hostility (cw: reddit). Yes, my region's native plant restoration came from literal nazis, but also, the impacts of some invasive species are real, not figments of a racist imagination. How do we balance these issues? What does ethical invasive management look like?

Since it’s such a juicy topic, I wanted to offer a few fun readings to share:

The Native Plant Enthusiasm: Ecological Panacea or Xenophobia?, Gert Gröning and Joachim Wolschke-Bulmahn, 2004, Arnoldia.

THE CLASSIC 20th century German nazis and native plants paper. Made a huge splash when it came out, and you will still encounter people who paint all native plant stuff with this brush. Summary: yeah the nazis loved their native plants and used them as part of their conquering process. Also, the first prairie plantings ever, located in Chicago, were done by a racist probable-nazi for racist reasons, full stop. I’ll let him speak for himself: “The gardens that I created myself shall… be in harmony with their landscape environment and the racial characteristics of its inhabitants. They shall express the spirit of America and therefore shall be free of foreign character as far as possible… the Latin and the Oriental crept and creeps more and more over our land, coming from the South, which is settled by Latin people, and also from other centers of mixed masses of immigrants. The Germanic character of our race, of our cities and settlements was overgrown by foreign character. The Latin spirit has spoiled a lot and still spoils things every day.” - Jens Jensen

Botanical decolonization: rethinking native plants, Tomaz Mastnak, 2014, Environment and Planning D: Society and Space

Rather than viewing native plant plantings as an act of racially-pure occupation, Mastnak positions native plants in California as a decolonization of the sub/urban lawn. Uses a lot of quotations from 16th century English philosopher Francis Bacon, and is heavy on the philosophical musings.

From killing lists to healthy country: Aboriginal approaches to weed control in the Kimberley, Western Australia by Bach et al., 2019, Journal of Environmental Management.

This paper talks through some of the native vs invasive debate, and offers a different perspective on how to approach to plant invasive management based on cultural relations, rather than country of origin or behavior.

Beyond ‘Native V. Alien’: Critiques of the Native/alien Paradigm in the Anthropocene, and Their Implications, Charles R. Warren, 2021, Ethics, Policy, & Environment

DENSE but thorough, if you want to follow the entire history of the native/invasive debate, this has you covered. The most interesting stuff, in my opinion, is the discussion of invasive denialism, IE: the impasse of “You’re just being racist!” Vs “You know nothing about ecology!” I recommend the Discussion, which starts on page 13.

[wpwhiteboard]

Transform your WordPress site with a high-converting landing page. Learn how to create an impressive page that converts visitors into leads.

[powerfulaitools]

The Ultimate Guide to Creating a Successful Affiliate Marketing Website

Create a successful #affiliatemarketing website with our ultimate guide! 💻 Discover the best templates for content, driving traffic, and measuring success. 📈 Start earning money today! #digitalmarketing #blogging #websitetemplates #trafficgenereration

Introduction Welcome to the world of affiliate marketing! As a new affiliate marketer, you are probably eager to dive into this exciting industry and start earning commissions. However, before you can do that, you need a website. Your website is your digital storefront, and it is where you will promote the products and services you are affiliated with. But with so many website templates out…

[xetlynn]

ekko and reader friends to lovers where reader gets hurt and ekko freaks out and confesses his feelings

I was half asleep writing this, please forgive me for the weird writing🙏

Arcane Imagines- Ekko

Investigation

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Two Fireflies running through the back allies. Following the map that was given to them to track down some corrupt officers that have been known to go to a certain area of the Undercity to mock and terrorize defenseless people. 

Normally they’d have other people with them but today was just investigating what was going on. Making sure the rumors are true before creating an attack. “I can get a look up top. Stay here.” You speak behind a mask, motioning up the pipe covered in overgrown plants. “Be careful.” Ekko mutters as you were already halfway up the building. Partially ignoring his words. Almost falling a few times. 

Grabbing onto the ledge of the structure, lifting your torso upon it before throwing your legs over. Not very graceful looking but you didn’t care. You snuck over to the other side of the ledge and glanced over. Seeing three officers laughing as they were going towards a woman holding a large bag. You furrowed your brows before going back to the pipe. “C’mon, I see them.” You slide down slowly, if you didn’t have gloves you would’ve gotten scratches and some sort of burn from the weeds. 

You trip as you land on the ground, you catch yourself before falling and turning around to do a stupid pose at Ekko. He shakes his head, walking ahead of you. “Rude.” You whisper under your breath before sprinting after him. You turn the corner and hide behind a crater once the officers are in clear view. 

“Hey, princess! Where you going with that heavy bag?” The first of the three asks with a smirk.

 The lady looks at them in fear. “Uh-m.” She takes a step back. “Uhm? Is that Undercity for something we don’t know about?” The next one speaks. She glances around, not knowing what to do or say. They begin to corner her, backing her into a wall. “We asked you a question, lady. You gonna answer or give us some trouble?” The first one asks, hands on his hips. The third and second snicker. 

Your fists curl as your body tenses. Ekko looked over at you, he couldn’t see your face but he knew the exact expression you were making. “Don’t do it, [Name].” He says quietly in your ear. You roll your eyes, leaning away from him. “I’m not doing anything.” You grunt. 

“I know what you want to do though.” He looks back to the scene in front of him. The first enforcer smacks the back out of the girl's hand. It falls to the ground. You grab onto the crate, wanting to break it. “Check what's inside it.” The first one says to the two beside him. Second guy picks it up, shoving his hand inside the bag. Taking out a baby blanket and baby toys. “Are you pregnant?” The first guy tilts his head. “N-no, it’s for my little sister.” The lady stammers, watching them go through her things. “Ah too bad. My wife’s been needing a few things for our daughter…” He hums, pretending to be disappointed. You were shaking with rage. They’re from the Uppercity and they want to steal from the less fortunate!? How does that make sense? “[Name]. Please. I’m figuring out how to get the stuff don’t worry.” Ekko places a hand on your back. You shoot your head his way. “Hurry.” 

“My sister needs that stuff though.” The girl cries out, she goes to grab the bag but gets shoved back into the wall. You stand up, jumping over the crate and attacking the guy who pushed her. “[Name]!” Ekko grabs his head, irritated that you didn’t listen to him. He turns around the building, wracking his brain on how to help you and the other girl now. Making an escape plan. 

You attempt to choke the guy out, he flails around, reaching behind him to pull you off but you don’t loosen your grip. Legs wrapped around him like a koala to a tree. “You bitch, let me go!” The enforcer shouts, back into a wall and slamming your body. It barely affects you, you tear off his hat, pulling at his hair and scratching his face. “You like putting your hands on women? Huh?” You grit your teeth, unfortunately your attack didn’t last long when the other enforcers pulled you off of the main guy. 

You kick your legs. “Don’t touch me!” You scream, shimmying out of their grip. Kicking one guy in the crotch. Elbowing the other guy in the face. “Fuck!” 

You grab the closest thing to you, which was a metal scrap. You hit the one guy repeatedly until he was curled on the ground. When you look up to the second one he was already running away. 

Your attention goes back to the first guy and the guy who you had on the ground got up to follow the other that ran away. You take out your pocket knife, flipping it open. You jab at him but he dodges out of the way. The two of you go back and forth for a while until you step on one of the child’s things, slipping backwards on your ass. “Hah, stupid cunt.” The enforcer laughs. You slide your body backwards. 

“Oh. no you don’t.” He stomps down on your ankle, putting his full weight on you. You scream out in pain. Ekko comes running towards you as the officer twists on your already broken bone. Ekko takes the baby toy and breaks it over the guy's head. The enforcer turns to him, finally getting off of your ankle. The pain shoots throughout your body. You let out a sob, gripping onto your own jacket. 

Ekko fights with the enforcer, throwing punches towards his face. The guy couldn’t keep up with the hits, losing balance. The girl they were helping comes up with the scrap you originally had and bashes the enforcer's head, knocking him out. 

The girl breathes heavily, Ekko running down to your aid. You don’t move the hurt leg, just holding yourself as you cried. “Shit.” You mutter, throwing your head back. “You okay? Can you move it?” He touches your shoulder, his other hand on your knee. “No! I can’t! It hurts!” You hyperventilate. He frowns. “I can get someone to help. I’ll be right back.” The girl from before says, picking up her things. Ekko only nods in response as she runs away from the scene. 

“It’s going to be alright, I promise.” His body shakes, hating that you got hurt because he didn’t know how to help. Wanting to figure out a safe exit instead of joining the fight. “Ekko, it hurts.” You whine, grabbing onto his arm and gripping it. “I know, I know. Fuck. I’m sorry.” He looked around, he didn’t know where the girl was going or when she’d come back. 

Your best bet was getting you to the other Fireflies. There was a medic there. “Okay, I’m going to lift you up. You think you’ll be okay?” He questions, getting on his feet, crouched down to get into position to lift you up. “Maybe, I don’t know.” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut. You were sweating from how bad it hurt and the mask only made it worse. 

“Okay, on the count of three I’m going to lift.” He warns you, his arm going underneath your knees and the other firmly on your back. “Mhm.” 

“One… two… three.” His body goes up and you let out a squeal. The feeling of your ankle not having a place to rest made the injury ache. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeats, running through the allies back to home. Your little noises of pain only made his heart hurt even more. It was his fault you were dealing with this. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He slows his pace a little just in case but you shake your head violently. “Keep going please!” You beg, your head against his shoulder and your arms wrapped around his body. He pushes forward, turning down the last ally. Two Firefly members stood in front of the entrance. “Open it!” He shouts, the two were confused at first but when they saw your body in his arms they hurriedly did as told. 

After getting to the medic, he worked his magic, wrapping your ankle. Ekko was outside the room the entire time, pacing back and forth as he had to hear your pain-filled cries. They gave you pain medicine but it hadn’t kicked in yet. 

When it went quiet he stopped in his tracks. His eyes were staring at the door. The medic comes out, Ekko attempts to rush in but he’s stopped with a hand on his chest. “Let us speak first.” 

Ekko’s eyes land on your body lying limp on the bed, chest heaving up and down. The medic closes the door. “She won’t be able to walk on that for 6 months. Whoever did that to her crushed it to a point that I’ve never seen before.” He tells Ekko whose nose is scrunched in anger. “Here’s the pain medicine she’s going to need for the next few weeks until the pain calms down.” He shakes the bottle before handing it over. 

“Anything else?” Ekko asks, antsy to see you. “No, go ahead.” 

The boy was next to you as fast as you heard the door open. You squint your eyes open. The light being bright after wearing a mask and tears not flooding down your face anymore. “I’m so sorry.” Ekko falls down to his knees, his head bowed down. “It’s not your fault. I was an idiot to think I could take them.” You sigh. “I’m sorry for not listening to you.” You sincerely tell him. He looks up at you.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.” He grabs your hand. “I can’t believe I didn’t help you. If I stepped in this wouldn’t have happened to you. Hearing your pain was like daggers through me. It’s my fault this happened. I can’t protect the one person that means so much to me.” He rants with a sour expression on his face. Gripping onto your hand. 

“Like that scream you let out, I repeat it in my head. It’s all I hear right now. How could I let this happen to someone I love?” He tears up, you watch him quietly as he vents. Your heart filled with butterflies by his words. “You love me?” You ask in a whisper. His eyes widened, just now catching what he just blurted out.

“I mean, I have love for you. Am I in love with you? Pssh, I mean I could be? Who knows? I say crazy things sometimes.” He lets go of your hand, now rambling on and on. 

“Ekko.” You smile. “Yes?” He asks with his hands behind him. Looking guilty. “I love you too.” You giggle.

“Really?” His head perks up, you nod, putting your arms out for him to hug you. He falls into your body, pulling you into a tight embrace. 

“Thank god because I would’ve killed myself or something if you didn’t feel the same way.” He jokes, causing you to laugh loudly. “You’re so stupid.” You snort. 

“Whatever, you love me.” He proudly reminds you, keeping himself on top of you.