#ride 719

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 719: The start of the Inter High qualifiers!!

Pag 5

1: Sorry for the wait, in fifteen minutes, at 10 o' clock, the qualifiers for the Inter High of the prefecture of Chiba, here at the gate before the beach of Kamogawa

2: will start!!

They're here!!

4: Yeah.... sorry, sorry

Pag 6

1: A ra-ra-race, so suddenly!? And what's more, the important qualifiers

Ah- ah- uhm, ah the helmet, the helmet, where is it, teh

Come on, come on, calm down- you're holding it in your left hand

2: I just heard the announcer saying “start”, Kinaka-kun

They're starting, seriously!?

Calm down, it's in fifteen minutes; now it's the tine to line up at the starting line

Let's go, Rokudai

That's why....

3: Sorry for the wait....

4: You seem to be in a hurry, so I brought these, here!!

5: Ka-Ka- Kanzaki-senpai!!

Aj- ah-yes!

Pag 7

1: Thank you so much!! -teh!!

To- to- today we'll work hard until the end of our strengths, thank you so much!!

Yeah... you're so impressive, first years

And.... so nervous

2: Ah- ah-

Ah-

She's my senpai as a “manager”.....

3: You said.... “brought”?

5: The jersey with your number bibs

Waa, waaa, thank you so much, teh

Waaaa

By the way, numbers bibs are are something that's meant to be put on by yourself!!

Pag 8

1: Th- thank you

Hurry, put it.... uhm....

3: Wear them, and run

5: They're the jerseys of the Sohoku's members

Pag 10

1: Hurry up, there's no time

I underestand that nervousness very well, too!!

2: Of course you're nervous, you're running in the qualifiers with the same jersey as them

3: The jersey I.... longed for....

My obejctive.....

4: I can wear it? Me!! Now!!

5: Excuse me!!

Pag 11

1: This.... I'll wear this, and.....

2: run together with Back-gate-slope-senpai....!!

3: I feel so honred.... and I might feel inadequate, but

4: I'll run in the race!!

5: Now, zip it up!!

The magic of that jersey is that it makes you nervous but it also gives you strength!!

Pag 12

1: They're here!!

3: It's Sohoku!!

Pag 13

1: Waaaaa!

It's last year's champions!

The two-times champions!!

They're here, Sohoku!!

Last year's winners, Sohoku High School, arrived at the start line!!

Amazing!

They're not just Chiba's two-times champions, they're national champions!

Incredible!

Sohoku! Sohoku!

Nice!!

2: Kakaka, they got all excited as soon as we get here!!

Thanks a lot, I'm Naruko Shoukichi!!

Naruko!

Redhead!!

3: Thanks a lot, I'll do great today, too!!

Look forward to my flashy running!

That redhead guy is fun!

4: I'm excited

Onodaa!!

Onoda-kun is so cute!!

5: Kashiwahigashi- well, do your best!

Makuhari- don't give up!

Don't just assume we're gonna lose!!

Pag 14

1: We have to breakthrough this race

Yeah

2: Sohokuuu!!

Win!

I mean, of course they'll take the top goal....

Honestly, aren't they unmatched?

Yeah

3:If we lose here, there'll be no Inter High

Winning for sure, no, we never know what's going to happen, that's road racing

4: Yes

Three years ago....

5: Sometimes I remember that day....

Pag 15

1: The qualifiers in Anesaki with Kinjou-san and the other third years

2: The first years are here

3: Finally in third place, Sohoku!!

What did the old man say in the end?

That.... they'll take the finish line, with a difference of one minute....

Can they really do something like that?

4: Catching up.... and even creating a difference of one minute..

Can they really do that?

If they really can....

5: It's overwhelming

6: Sohoku is the top!!

Sohokuu!!

Pag 16

2: Back then, we were first years, and they were so strong and overwhelming that we could only think that our senpais were incredible

3: But I get it now

5: To open such an overwhelming gap

6: They worked so hard to prepare for that

Pag 17

3: That's right!!

4: We spent so much time practicing and thinking about what could happen and preparing for it!!

5: And we also prepared so hard for this

6: Yeah!!

's right!!

Pag 18

1: Let's run with everything we have!!

2: Uh!!

Sohoku's presure got stronger!!

Waa

No, don't run with everything you have!!

3: Let's go!!

4: Yeah!!

Yeah!!

Pag 19

1: This road leads to the Inter High!!

Pag 20

1: The Kamogawa qualifiers for the road racing Inter High

Pag 21

1: Start!!

2: Under the clear blue sky, the ciclysts are all dashing on

There's also a lot of people cheering for our local high school in Kamogawa!!

Kamo..!!

Do your best!!

3: Kashiwahigashi, take it this year!!

Yeah, got it!!

Pag 22

2: Do your beest!

Thaaanks a lot!

There are so many bikes!

So colorful

3: Now, is the parade section over?

Sohoku's Naruko?

4: 'lright

5: Should we go now!!

6: Waaa Naruko jumped ahead at the start!

Sohoku's Naruko!! Isn't that bad news!?

Waaaaa

7: Hahaha, it's alright!!

Huh!?

Pag 23

1: “In road racing, you can't win alone”!! That's the theory!!

We have the numerical advantage! If he's left alone, he'll eventually get exhausted and fall!!

Kashiwahigashi Nomura-san!!

2: I'll show you

3: This is Naruko Shoukichi's flashi riding!!

Like this

Pag 24

1: I'll reach the goal!!

I'll away with the first attack and then win, and make a legend!!

2: No no no, Naruko is definitely bad news!

He'll get away and win on his own, that guy!

Catch him!

Chase him!!

4: Thanks to Naruko-kun, the first half will be easy

Yeah

While Naruko-kun is in the lead, we'll be protected from the wind

6: By the way

Pag 25

1: Kinaka and Rokudai.... until the last moment, they weren't at the start line with us

Ye-yeah

2: I- I'm sure they ran late while getting ready.... and are now hesitant to cut through everyone to come to the front

I guess they're starting from way behind us

3: I don't see them at all

4: Do we leave them behind?

You're so quick to make a decision!!

5: They were too flustered, chosing them was a mistake

Your humor is too dry, Imaizumi-kun!

6: Let's wait for them

We can't do that

Ehhh

7: No, seriously speaking

Pag 26

1: If they can't get here by themselves, then we don't need them

2: This race

3: also serves as the team members selection

Pag 27

3: I.... in the end we ended up at the very end of the line, teh

4: Is Imaizumi-san in the lead?

Pag 28

1: And there are so many people, the density is so different from that of middle school's races!!

Ngh!! I can't get used to this way of riding!!

2: I'm sorry, it's because I took too much time in getting ready, teh

And now you, Kinaka-kun-

3: Whataver, there's no use in talking about it now

Anyway, let's go up to where Onoda-san and the other are!!

4: If we can't get to them

5: Our race ends now!!

[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.

[formula1au]

west coast

summary: you and max have a romantic date at the beach

pairing: max verstappen x gf!reader

content: fluff, light smut

warning: there's smut but not detailed

word: 719

The moon hung low in the sky at the beach where you and max had decided to escape for the night. The soft sound of waves crashing gently against the shore provided a soothing soundtrack, and the cool night air was filled with the salty scent of the ocean.

Max had planned this evening, wanting to give you a night to remember. A cozy blanket was spread out on the soft sand, with a small picnic basket nearby filled with your favorite snacks and a bottle of chilled champagne from daniel. Max even set up some lanterns.

As you both settled onto the blanket, Max pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as you both gazed out at the endless horizon. "This place is perfect," you murmured, leaning into Max's embrace.

"I'm glad you like it," Max replied, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "I wanted us to have a special night away from everything."

You spent the next hour talking, laughing, and savouring the delicious treats Max had brought. The conversation flowed easily. You talked about the future, his carer, kids, and stuff like that. As the night grew darker and the stars began to twinkle above you, the atmosphere became even more intimate.

Max's hand gently brushed your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with love and admiration.

You blushed, feeling the intensity of his gaze. "You always know how to make me feel special," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It started slow and gentle, but soon deepened, filled with a growing hunger and desire. You responded eagerly, your hands threading through Max's hair as they lost themselves in the passion of the moment.

The sound of the waves and the rustling of the palm trees seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in your own world. Max's hands roamed over your body, caressing and exploring, eliciting soft moans of pleasure.

You pulled apart briefly, your breaths mingling as you stared into each other's eyes. "I love you," Max said, his voice thick with emotion.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with affection.

Max gently laid you down on the blanket, his eyes never leaving yours. He took his time undressing you, each piece of clothing removed with love and care. You did the same, your fingers trembling slightly with anticipation as you undressed Max.

As you lay bare under the moonlight, the cool night air contrasting with the warmth of your bodies, Max paused to take in the sight of you. "You're perfect," he murmured, his voice filled with awe.

You reached up, pulling Max down into another desperate kiss. Your bodies moved together, every touch and caress igniting sparks of pleasure. The feeling of Max's skin against yours, the taste of his lips, the scent of the ocean—it all combined to create an intoxicating experience.

Max's movements were slow and deliberate, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. Your fingers dug into his back, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you moved in perfect harmony. The world around you seemed to disappear.

As the intensity built, Max's pace quickened, his own breaths becoming labored. "Schatje," he whispered, his voice strained with pleasure.

"I'm close," you gasped, your body arching into his touch.

With a final, powerful thrust, you both tumbled over the edge, your cries of pleasure mingling with the sound of the waves. You clung to each other, riding out the waves of ecstasy until you were both spent, your bodies trembling with the aftermath.

Max collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. You lay there, your hearts slowly returning to a normal rhythm, basking in the afterglow. The stars above seemed to shine brighter.

"I don't want this night to end," you whispered.

"Neither do I," Max replied, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "But we'll have many more nights like this, liefje. I promise."

As you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's embrace, the sound of the ocean lulling you into a peaceful slumber, you knew that this night on the beach was just the beginning of a lifetime of shared moments and deep, abiding love.

[fvck-the-rest]

Sweet

Gojo x female! reader

word count: 719

\warnings\ mdni, smut, p n v, unprotected (wrap it before you take it), nipple play, hickies, riding, light biting, Gojo has a praise kink

request are open!

Rocking your hips on top of him, hands grabbing at you and his ping move you to his pace. Grabbing his shoulders for support, not used to his size just yet, but the man under you shows no mercy towards you or your struggle. Soon starting to rock you faster. 

“You feel so good, it is almost unfair how good it feels” he breathed out, his pupils diluted to the size of a sun, his blue eyes shining brighter than they ever have before. 

He couldn’t take it anymore, he flipped you over onto your back. His hand moving away from your waist, running them up your body to your breast. Grabbing and massaging them. He connects his mouth to the bottom of them, sucking and biting to leave a bruise in the place. Moving to the other one he put a matching one in the same place. Now wrapping his mouth around your left nipple he begins to suck and toy with it using his tongue. Flicking the muscle around it and around it, letting out moans and grunts, all while still slowly going in and out of your needy hole. Moans coming from the both of you. 

 Moving up more he begins to bite and kiss at your neck and shoulders now moving faster in and out of you, grunting with every thrust. 

“Oh my, you're so sweet, I would  give up every sweet in the world to have this anytime I want something sweet.” he purred into your ear, getting you closer and closer to reaching your high./ At this point in the night you had no idea what was going on, what was being said.  Only knowing what that man on top of you is doing to you and how good he was making you feel. 

Moaning and whispering his name only increased his need more, biting down on your neck a little harder, leaving a small mark in its place. Moving his hands from your breasts back down to your waist, grabbing at them hard and moving against him, moving in and out of you at a place that only he could achieve. Grunts and moans were let off from the both of you until it was becoming too much for you to handle, whispering that you were getting close and begging him to go faster. But who was he to deny you anything, his sweet love, he did as you said, please you hear that he was making you feel so good. Your moaning in his ear adds to his own high, allowing him to reach his high at the same time as you, pulling out of you and letting it out on your stomach. 

Standing to get a towel to clean your stomach, whipping it clean. Trying to get up yourself and take a shower and clean yourself more probably. But the white haired man wasn’t done with you just yet, grabbing you and putting you back on the bed. He moved to be between your legs, spreading them wide, he bargained to bite and suck at your thighs, leaving even more hikings on you, while also claiming that he needed to make sure that you were marked so everyone knows that you belong to him. 

Lapping and kissing you warmth, he felt like he was in heaven with the noises you were making and the praise leaving your lips only for him to hear you say. He was pleased for how sweet you were, doing every little thing he knew you liked, soon having you reach your high again, thighs wrapping around his head and hair warped in your fingers. 

Letting you ride your high on his face, he sat up and licked his lips, looking at the fucked out face you had. 

“So very sweet for me, you know that? But now let's get you cleaned up and get some rest.”, he said while bringing you up off the bed and towards the bathroom. 

He oh so badly wanted to tell you even more things, but no matter what he said you weren’t  going to remember it, and how badly he wanted to go another round he knew you couldn't take it in the state you were in. He wanted to ruin his teeth with how sweet you are. 

[treason-and-plot]

[previous]

Five years ago Crystal might have felt self-conscious walking through a hotel foyer wearing 6 inch fuck me heels and a lace dress that barely covers her arse, (her black jacket is a concession not to modesty but to the chill that is in the air this evening) but she has long since realised that life is too short not to be comfortable in her own skin. After all, the stigma attached to prostitution is a social construct, and the people who judge her for it (like that snooty receptionist with her buttoned-up collar and sharply raised chin) only do so because they are threatened by her. Disapproval is empowering!

She rides the elevator solo to the seventh floor, her ears numbed by a pan-pipe rendition of Nights in White Satin. She exits with a shudder, checks her lipstick and walks down the end of the deserted corridor to Room 719, the plush carpet swallowing her footsteps. She pauses to listen for a few moments, then raps assertively on the door.

[themyriadpoet]

Yip yip hallo! Can you write a fic with TFA Ratchet with gn! reader about they were out in the city, stopping at a shop when reader got into a fight with some hooligans who bad-mouthed the Autobots and Ratchet has to pull them aside and treat them when they got back to base with a side of lecturing.

TFA Glitch - Ratchet and Reader

Warnings: None

Words: 719

You stepped out into the blinding light of the outdoors. Briefly, you shielded your eyes from the sun, allowing them to adjust to the orange sky. As you carried the items in your bag, you calmly made your way to the ambulance tucked into a subtle corner of the parking lot. 

After a long day of exploring the city, you finally gathered all that you required at the nearest shopping market. As you walked between the rows of cars, you observed various people, accepting assistance from automatons and alike. 

Once you reached the red and white vehicle, you smiled.

“Hey, Ratchet.”

The car tilted a little, hearing you.

“Hope you found what you were looking for.”

You shrugged.

“More or less.” You peeked into your bag, smirking. “Something to make me look cooler than I actually am.”

Ratchet scoffed, opening his door for you.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Bumblebee.”

You laughed, reaching for the door. Before you could even settle inside his interior, however, something strange caught your attention from behind you.

It was three boys. They couldn’t be no older than you, really, dressed in flashy attire that was commonplace for the 2050s. They talked amongst each other, causing you to narrow your eyes and listen closely. 

“No way.”

“Is that one of them?”

“Yeah! An Autobot!”

They snickered. With a huff, you turned around and attempted to focus on Ratchet.

“What a fucking freak.”

You flinched, a growl rumbling in your throat.

Ratchet’s tires shifted.

“Just ignore ‘em. Don’t let them get to ya, kid-”

But someone cut him off completely.

“Hey, you! Wanna take a ride in a real automobile?”

You snapped your head back towards the group, anger churning in your stomach as they chortled.

“One that doesn’t look a day away from ending up in a junkyard?” 

In an instant, you tossed your bag into Ratchet’s front seat and shut his door.

“Kid! Come back here!”

It was already too late. You marched up to the bullies, huffing and puffing with your hands on your hips. 

“Do you have a problem?”

The “leader” of the three grinned, leaning forward a bit too close to comfort.

“No, no, of course not. I’m just saying that your car is shit. Just like the rest of those monsters.”

Your patience shattered. Immediately, you threw a punch, starting a fight. The bully dodged as best as he could, but you managed to force him to the ground. It was easy. You barely broke even a sweat. Unfortunately, it was a short-lived victory. The other two pummeled you, attacking both sides of your body with swift kicks. 

“Kid, no!”

It all happened too fast for you to even process it. Shrieks left your lips as you failed to fight back, pain surging through your body. Ratchet’s voice was like an angel to your ears as you hit the ground, your eyes lowering to darkness.

…

Light seeped into your eyes. It wasn’t painful, but welcoming. A wave of familiarity washed over your mind as you found yourself inside the medical lab with Ratchet’s mass-displaced form hovering over you near the bedside. 

“You okay, kid?”

You lifted yourself at the waist, touching your throbbing head.

“What happened?” 

Ratchet rolled his optics, looking a tiny bit peeved. 

“Hooligans nearly knocked you offline. I scared them off and drove back to base as quickly as I could.”

Suddenly sheepish, you turned away from him. However, Ratchet came closer, ensuring that you couldn’t hide from him. You were grateful, yes, but slag, you felt like an absolute idiot.

“You should’ve listened to me the first time, kid. Not the wisest move on your part to confront those organic clowns. They were just looking for someone to fight, and you took the bait.”

You frowned.

“I’m sorry, Ratchet.” You looked over the bruises on your arms and legs. “I just get…angry sometimes.”

The medic vented out a sigh, pressing a gentle digit to your forehead. His optics, shiny and blue, dimmed with a particular kind of softness that urged your body to relax.

“I know. Still not an excuse to act like a total glitch, though. Defend my honor when it doesn’t involve any pain on your part, alright?” 

You smiled.

“But I’m your glitch.”

Ratchet smirked.

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

Divider Credit: @/halohearts666

[wildbornsiren]

Coffee and Wintergreen || Jake "Hangman" Seresin/Javy "Coyote" Machado

Wintergreen and Coffee. Summary: Talking about leave leads to other possibilities. 719 words Jake 'Hangman' Seresin/Javy 'Coyote' Machado [Slash] Warning: kissing. Awkward boys. Notes: Takes place before the mission, sometime while they're stationed together. Thank you to the ever lovely @writercole for poking me about this. Comments and sharing fuel my writing, likes are appreciated. Thank you so much for reading, it is so appreciated and means the most. **Tag list is done. Please follow and turn on notifs for @wbslibrary **

Jake plops onto the leather couch, wincing as it groans in protest. The sofa was older than both of them, but it was well loved. Many people had sat on this couch, had conversations, slept, read, wept, God knows many times fluids had been exchanged on the damn thing. Javy looks up from the magazine on his lap, bumping his shoulder against Jake’s. “Going home for the break?” Jake asks. Javy’s grin is wide and easy, contagious. “Yeah, grandmomma’s already told me she’s making gumbo.” He says, “Etouffee, jambalaya and the whole kit.”

“You sure I can’t come home with you?” “I’ve told you man, there’s always a spot at the table for you. Grandmomma loves you—almost as much as she loves me, and she don’t love nobody.” “I’m catnip for grandmommas and mommas.” Jake grins. “It’s a heavy burden, but one all Seresin men carry.” “You’re so full of shit.” Javy laughs, his face lighting up even more as his shoulders shake, leaning heavily against Jake. There’s a spark under his skin from where his and Javy’s body connects, and once more he tries, he tries so hard to shove that back down, back into the proper hiding places. “I also know your momma’s fixing up a right spread for you too.” “She does. She’s also been blowing my phone up with all sorts of details about the party she’s throwing.” Jake says, settling back against the couch more. Javy’s arm is slung against the back, and it brings him closer to Javy’s body. Jake takes a steadying breath. Another mistake. Javy smells like cedarwood and orange, and if Jake closes his eyes, he can almost taste the orange on his tongue from Javy’s cologne. He can feel the warm vibration in the other man’s chest when Javy says his name. Jake blinks, realizing he’s been staring at Javy’s profile for the last five minutes. “You alright?” “Yeah, just thinkin’ I’m gonna miss you.” Javy chuckles, head tipping back against the couch. “Jake, it’s a couple weeks of leave. Then we’ll be shipped out somewhere, and you’ll be tired of me.” “I can’t get tired of you Machado.” Jake says. “You’re my best friend man.” There’s a twinge in his chest when he says that last bit. A small part of him, the one that he keeps buried in the dark, deep down inside dies a little bit at the title of friend. He can’t, he won’t. There’s too much riding on a very thin line. A thin line that’s becoming harder and harder not to cross. “Jake,” Javy’s voice curls against his ear. He swallows hard, turning to see Javy only millimeters away from him. Jake’s heart is in his throat, there’s a dull roaring his ears, an ache in his chest. There’s a warmth on his skin, Javy’s hand on his cheek, fingers bringing Jake closer, the distance closing between them in what feels like eons. The first brush of lips against his, isn’t enough. “Please,” Jake whispers. “Like you mean it Javy, if you mean it.” Javy’s fingers slide into Jake’s hair, a soft sigh emanating from one, both, who knows. There’s thirty seconds of a clock ticking away desperately, Javy’s mouth slotting over Jake’s. No more hesitation, nothing but the feeling of Javy’s lips against his. He tastes like stale coffee and wintergreen gum, and it’s a combination that Jake knows he’s going to crave for months to come. The worn leather of the couch squeaks, when Javy leans over him, their chests crushed together. Jake’s hands frame Javy’s face, tongue swiping against Javy’s lower lip, a soft sound coming from him when he’s granted access to Javy’s mouth. “Tell you what,” Javy murmurs. Calloused thumb brushing over Jake’s lower lip. They’re both panting, Jake knows he’s flushed, a bit starry eyed. “You go home for the first week, let your momma fuss over you. Then you come see me.” “So, your grandmomma can fuss over me?” Jake asks, smile easy and playful. “That, and so I can fuss over you proper like.” “I’d like that.” Jake says. “I’d definitely like that.” Javy’s lips are warm and soft when they press against Jake’s cheek. “I’ll make sure that grandmomma knows the white boy from Texas is coming. She does love to feed you.” /end

[modernmisadventures]

Chapter 7: First Date

It was an older apartment building, but one that was well-kept and cared for. He knew the area - the neighborhood rode that fine line between the lower middle and upper lower classes - just a little worn, just a little shabby, but still loved by those who lived there, many of whom had done so for generations.

In fact, he’d visited this building before, though he’d not known Kal’istae lived here. There were several young people amongst the residents who were clients of his, or students he served, and he’d made wellness checks in the past. It felt passing strange to pass through the doors into the lobby not for business, but for pleasure.

“Hey, Mr. W,” called the lobby attendant, looking up from where she thumbed through a magazine. “Late in the day for you to be calling.” Then her eyes sharpened, focusing on his clothes and on the bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. “Ooo-h,” she drawled. “You’re not here for a kiddo, are you?”

He could feel his ears heating up, even as he flashed her a grin and a wink. “That would be telling.” When she grinned back, he turned and headed for the bank of elevators. Behind him, he could hear the sound of her tomephone and knew she was texting - who, he couldn’t imagine, but he had a wild guess as to what. Why are they always so fascinated with my love life? he wondered.

Shaking his head, he stepped onto the elevator as the doors parted and thumbed the button for the seventh floor. Beneath his feet, the elevator car rumbled and vibrated as it ascended. The ride was interminable; his mind raced through a hundred different ways he could play this, a thousand different ways it could go. Scenario after scenario, he rejected them all; suitable for a seduction, not a one seemed right for a date.

Had he ever actually been on a date? Was it a date when the only end goal was a bit of satisfaction with someone you had no intention of ever seeing again? Gods, he didn’t know. How was he supposed to know? He stepped from the elevator, still mulling the puzzle over.

719. 720. He stared at the door marked 721, gripping the flowers in his hand and feeling an unexpected and entirely unwelcome heat at the back of his neck. Damn it, he was a grown man. He was never uncertain. Squaring his shoulders and firming his jaw, he knocked upon the door.

Moments passed - one second, two. He’d counted twelve seconds before he heard the locks snick and the door swung open to reveal Kal’istae smiling shyly up at him. He could only stare down at her, stunned to see her in that lovely lace-and-satin dress, all that indigo skin and those damned freckles - gods. Those freckles. He just wanted trace constellations all over her body and…

Clearing his throat, he forced his eyes up to hers and proffered her the bouquet of colorful flowers. “For you,” he said, immediately feeling lame.

Her eyes slid from his face to the bouquet and she reached out to gather the flowers in her hands, burying her face in them. “They’re lovely,” she murmured happily as she raised her head again. “Come in, and I’ll put them in water.”

She turned and led him into the apartment. He followed after, pausing as the door swung shut at his back to study the living room into which he’d entered. It was roomy and relatively spartan, done in shades of lavender and seafoam, with pale gold accents. He prowled around, eyeing the somewhat-ratty sleeper sofa facing the television, dressed up with a knitted throw and a couple of plump cushions. Through the opening above the bar, he could see her dragging out a step-stool, climbing upon it to retrieve a vase from one of her upper cabinets. “I could have helped with that,” he said, ambling closer.

She turned and smiled at him. “I’m used to doing it myself. These builders never take into account auri females or lalafells, I swear.” She snagged a blue vase from the cabinet and climbed down, placing the flowers within and filling it with water. She reached up to place it on the bar between them and smiled at him through the blooms. “Perfect. Thank you, Thancred.”

“They made me think of you,” he blurted out. When her eyebrows raised, he refused to be embarrassed. “All bright and cheerful and varied. Every time I looked at them, I saw something different. It’s the same with you.”

Those lavender-edged eyes blinked slowly through a clump of daisies and forget-me-nots. “This is a good thing?” she asked hesitantly.

Resting his hands on the counter, he grinned down at her. “Of course. Who wants the same thing all the time? Variety is the spice of life, as they say.” When her gaze fell from his and her smile faltered, he felt a surge of alarm. “What? What did I say wrong?”

She shook her head, and when she looked up at him, her smile was back in place - but he could see the way it trembled at the edges. “Nothing, of course,” she reassured him. “You are not wrong at all. The same thing day in and day out gets boring.”

There was something wrong here, and Thancred was damned if they would leave the house before he fixed it. He studied her face and watched the way her eyes slid away from his and had a flash of intuition. His smile returned, edged in affection. “That’s the joy in finding someone with such individual variety,” he said gently, and her eyes rose involuntarily to his. “There’s no need to look elsewhere; all you could need is right there in her eyes.”

Beneath his gaze, a flush rose in her cheeks, turning indigo skin to violet and illuminating the starshine freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. A smile, a little pleased, a little surprised, flirted at the corners of her lips. “Shouldn’t we be going to dinner?” she asked him, eyes glinting through her lowered lashes.

No. No they shouldn’t. They should be settling right down on that ratty couch and making out until the inevitable happened. Thancred swallowed and sternly told his body - and his libido - to settle down. “Yes,” he agreed instead. “I cannot remember a time I have looked forward to dinner more.”

The corners of her lips lifted more and her eyes as she gazed fully into his gleamed with pleasure. “Same goes.”

Pushing himself up, Thancred held his hand out to her, watching as she slipped out of the kitchen and around the corner to stand before him before sliding her fingers into his. Again, his skin began to tingle as though he were holding a low-grade current, and it continued to do so as he lifted her fingers to brush his lips across them. She inhaled sharply and stared at him with wide eyes. “My lady,” he murmured, “you electrify me.”

“You feel it too?” she asked, a bit breathlessly.

Tucking her hand into his arm, he gazed down at her, his eyes dark with emotions he didn’t want to analyze right that moment. “I assure you, I’ve been feeling it since the first moment I laid eyes on you.” When she blushed again, he took a deep breath. “Shall we?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice breathy and soft. “Yes. Please.”

The air was warm, just shy of sultry, but  Kal’istae paused to grab a light wrap before they left the apartment, anticipating that the restaurant would run to cool. When Thancred took it from her and draped it across her shoulders, his touch lingering on her skin, she blushed again and looked torn between confusion and pleasure. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he began as his fingers slid down her arm to link with hers, “but I’m starting to think you haven’t dated much.”

When she tried to pull away, his fingers tightened, and she glanced up at him, blushing. “I’ve been on dates,” she said defensively. “It’s just… they weren’t…” She struggled, trying to find the right words without scaring him off. “It was just casual friends things.”

He drew her hand up as they waited outside of the elevator doors, kissing her knuckles as he gazed down at her over their joined fingers. “Same goes,” he said easily as the doors slid open and he pulled her in. “So, this is new territory for both of us. But I think we won’t make a hash of it.”

Those lavender-edged eyes were wide as she stared up at him. “Both of us?”

He lingered over her fingers, unable to help himself. “Yes. Like you, any dates I had been on before this were solely for the purpose of pleasure. And while I anticipate a great deal of pleasure from this evening,” he added, forestalling her, “I don’t think it will be the kind of pleasure you and I tend to seek - but it will be far more rewarding.”

The elevator opened to the lobby and an older Roegadyn couple blinked in surprise to see the slim hyur smiling down at the blushing Au Rau over their joined hands. “Miss Miurani!” exclaimed the woman, her eyes wide with delight as she looked between them. “Good evening.”

Once more, Kal’istae unsuccessfully tried to extract herself from Thancred’s grip and finally gave up, still blushing. “Mrs. Asgurswyn,” she greeted the tall, stately woman with an embarrassed smile. “Mr. Asgurswyn. Good evening. I hope you had a pleasant day.”

The pair stood aside, allowing Kal’istae and Thancred to step from the elevator, then traded places. “We certainly did,” Mrs. Asgurswyn replied, her grin broad and pleased as she looked down at the pair. “And I hope you have a most pleasant evening. Sir,” she added, nodding her head at Thancred. At her shoulder, her husband gave the psychologist a steely look, then nodded slightly.

As the doors closed between them, Kal’istae and Thancred exchanged a look. “Well. It’s good to know you’re well looked after,” he said neutrally.

“The Asgurswyns are very kind. They live down the hall from me and she’s forever inviting me over for dinner,” she replied just as calmly.

He gazed at her a moment longer, then tugged lightly on her hand, drawing her towards the lobby entrance. The attendant looked up from her magazine, a ready smile on her lips. Those same lips parted in an ‘o’ as her eyes widened, taking in the sight of the hyur and the Au Ra walking hand in hand towards the outer doors. “Oh!” she squeaked. “Uh. Have a good evening, Miss Miurani, Mr. W!”

Kal’istae glanced over her shoulder and smiled warmly. “Enjoy your evening, Candyne,” she replied, before allowing Thancred to chivy her out of the building. He paused briefly to wink at Candyne, his grin deepening at her expression, before he followed. “She’s going to tell everyone.”

“Probably,” Thancred agreed as they stepped onto the sidewalk and began the stroll towards Fourteenth. “Does that bother you?”

She remained quiet for the measure of a block, mulling over just what to say. Jess’s words, coupled with Thancred’s unambiguously stated intentions, had made it clear that this was not the kind of date she was used to, one that would end with a satisfying night of sex and a mutually felt ‘maybe we’ll see each other again’. “No,” she finally responded as they crossed Eleventh. “No, it really doesn’t.” Another half-block measured in silence. “Thancred?”

“Yes?” he asked.

Kal’istae hesitated, gazing at the glass-windowed storefronts as they passed by them. She could see them walking together, hand in hand - and it stirred something deep in her stomach. Butterflies swirled, joyous, and made her queasy. “What do you see coming of this?”

He’d been anticipating the question, wondering over his response. Now, he too hesitated before answering, but his words were firm, resolute. “I don’t know, to be honest. But I know what I’d like to see come of this. I like you, Kali. I like you a lot. You get me, which isn’t something I can say for a lot of people outside of my family.”

When he paused again, she looked up at him, her eyes wide. He stared straight ahead, not seeing the crowds of people before them, the displays of clothing and jewelry around him. “I just want to see where this goes. Take it one step at a time - but I want to take those steps. Day after day. Week after week. Just see where it goes, you and me.”

She wanted to ask if he meant a relationship. Gods, she hoped he meant a relationship. But the same nerves that kept him from saying the word kept her from asking the question, and so she simply nodded. “I would like that,” she said softly, her voice just a bit breathy with hesitation.

His fingers squeezed hers, closing down just shy of crushing before he eased back. “As would I. So let us see how the evening goes - but if the beginning is any indication, I have nothing but the highest of hopes.”

She had no response for that, but her fingers twined with his and she swayed in so that her shoulder brushed against his arm. He turned his head and gazed down at the top of hers, inhaling the scents of lavender and starflowers. In comfortable, companionable silence, they walked the rest of the way to the restaurant.

The clustering of people outside of the restaurant gave Kal’istae pause. “Oh dear,” she murmured. “Will we be able to get a seat before they close?”

Thancred’s chuckle resonated through his chest and vibrated into her shoulder from that point where it touched his arm. “I got us reservations, don’t worry,” he soothed. “I heard it was a hit, and I wasn’t taking any chances.”

Studying the number of people inside as well as those gathered outside, Kal’istae gave a soft chuckle. “I’m surprised you were able to get a reservation for this soon, given how busy they appear.” At his silence, she glanced up at him. “Thancred, when did you make the reservation?”

More silence, then he uttered an embarrassed laugh. “Uh, I’ve had one rolling for the past month or so,” he admitted, much to her amusement. “I know the hostess, and she’s been keeping it penciled in every Wednesday. She, uh - she was very amused when I called and told her she could finally write it in pen.”

Lavender-edged eyes were wide, staring up at him as he reached out to pull the door open. “You’ve been very serious about this date.”

He didn’t answer right away, releasing her hand to place it at the base of her spine and steer her into the restaurant and up to the hostess stand. The woman standing behind it, a tall, svelte Elezen, looked up as they approached and grinned broadly. “Well! Thancred, so you finally made it after all.” Her eyes slid down to the Au Ra, who smiled nervously back. “I see. Welcome to Kenchi’s, Mr. Waters, Miss. Your table is almost ready; just one moment and the server will seat you.”

“Thank you, Lainee,” Thancred replied equitably, and she grinned at him before smiling and winking at Kal’istae, then turning to the next guest to enter behind them. Slipping his arm about her waist, the hyur guided his date off to the side to await the server. After a beat or two, he finally answered her implied question from earlier. “To be perfectly honest with you, Kali, I’ve been very serious about this date since the first time I asked you.”

There was a pregnant pause as she digested that fact. “Uhm,” she murmured, looking up as the server hailed them and beckoned for them to follow, “you first asked me out almost a year ago.”

“I know,” he replied softly, and kept his arm tucked about her waist as they maneuvered through the packed restaurant for the table set aside for them.

They settled into the table, and Thancred surprised her yet again by choosing to sit not in the seat across from her, but rather the one beside. The flutters in her breast and belly were an almost constant companion, the soft rustle of butterfly wings that by turns elated her and made her just a bit sick. The server took their drink orders and disappeared into the crowd, leaving them alone amidst the low buzz of conversation. “I guess I should apologize,” she began.

“Don’t,” Thancred replied, reaching out to take her hand and massage her fingers lightly, his pale gold eyes fixed on her face. “You were, what, two years behind me in Sharlayan?” At her nod, he smiled. “I hardly blame you, then. I’m sure you heard all about me while you were there.”

Her laugh was soft and affectionate. “You did quite take the Studium by storm. Neither the professors nor the native students were quite certain what to make of you - so flashy and bold, and yet so infernally brilliant, and a foreigner to boot.” She rubbed her fingers along his, staring down at them and studying the contrast of his pale gold skin against her dark indigo. “I knew so many girls whose charms you had sampled. They were so complimentary, I almost regretted that by the time I came, you were out in the field with Archon Louisoix.”

He thought about it, still playing with her hand. “I’m torn. Part of me wishes I’d met you sooner - but truth be told, back then I was an immature cad and I’m glad I never got my hands on you. This, I think,” and he leaned forward, drawing her fingers to his lips, “will be much more fulfilling for us both.”

Her eyes lowered as her cheeks filled; he found it charming the way her blush would flood her cheeks, turning indigo to violet and emphasizing the silvery smattering of freckles so that they shimmered like stars. He might have said more, but the waiter reappeared, pad at the ready. “Are you ready to order?” he asked cheerfully, “or would you like more time?”

Thancred hadn’t even glanced at his menu. “What would you recommend?” he asked instead, while Kal’istae slid her hand from his and hurriedly flipped over her own menu to scan it. As the server described his own recommendation, the psychologist kept an eye on his date, noting the moment she made a decision. “That sounds perfect,” he told the server, who cut himself off mid-description and keyed in the order before looking inquiringly at Kal’istae.

The Au Ra smiled up at him. “The chicken and broccoli in white sauce, with white rice, please.” As he keyed it in and scooped up their menus, then sailed away, she turned back to Thancred. “Thank you for that.” 

Reclaiming her hand, he gave her an innocent look. “I don’t know what you mean. So. Magic teacher. I don’t think I ever asked you, but why magic?”

Appreciating the suave change of subject, she beamed at him. “Because I’m good at it. Really good at it. It only took me two years to obtain my certificates of mastery in Somanutics and Astrology. Y’mhitra - do you know her? She’s the conjurer who worked with the various indigenous peoples around Eorzea and into the New World and Meracydia to learn about their summoning rituals? She and I took a pilgrimage to visit some of the tribes she had befriended, and they taught me to summon their ‘gods’.” She made finger-quotes. “The old Allagans called these creatures Eikons; the elementals that the tribes have raised up as protective totems.”

Thancred stared at her. “You said you taught the basics of summoning, but I thought you simply meant in terms of arithomancy - carbuncles and the like.”

Grinning at his surprise, Kal’istae’s eyes twinkled. “It’s true, I only teach arithomancy to my students, but I know how to summon the likenesses of the Eikons - we call them Egis. I would never teach this without permission from my own teachers - it’s their culture, not mine. I was honored to be allowed to learn. Honored that their Eikons thought me worthy of having the power of their names.”

“What other secrets do you have hiding in there?” he asked, fascinated. “Do you have an Archon’s mark?”

Lavender-edged eyes grew wistful. “I wish. I wish I could have stayed; I think I could have earned one if I’d continued working with Y’mhitra to research the secrets of summoning. But the Scholarch recommended me specifically for the position at the school, and I couldn’t refuse. Not after everything that Sharlayan did for me.”

There was a story there, but Thancred sensed that this was not the time to get into it. “You’re young yet,” he said instead, drawing her hand up to brush it against his cheek in an unconscious gesture. “Plenty of time to prove your right for an Archon’s mark before the Studium.”

“What exactly is your Archon’s mark in?” she asked, startling him. She grinned, explaining, “Ryne.”

Thancred shook his head. “She’s more proud of it than I am. Child psychology, of course, and the treatment of acute trauma in children. In fact, the mentor program you’re a part of? It was an initiative built out of my Archon’s thesis when I discovered that too many children - particularly orphans or those removed from abusive homes - who have suffered traumatic events did not feel they had an adult they could trust.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair, gazing at the beer sitting on the table before him. “A social worker can only do so much. A child psychologist can’t get too attached. But a teacher? A teacher sees them every day, in every situation. A teacher is more likely to be in a position to address a melt down, or a breakdown and address it immediately, and a teacher is more likely to know enough about the child beyond the public face they show to be able to get them to open up.”

She knew the research; when the school had approached her about being a mentor, she’d read the research brief carefully and seen how well-reasoned - and researched - the proposal was. It had been what had swayed her to agree, despite, or perhaps because of, her own trauma. “I didn’t realize you had been responsible for that,” she murmured. “‘Tis a program I wish we’d had when I was in school.”

He turned her hand in his and nuzzled against her open palm, pleased when a blush rose in her cheeks. “Would you have needed it?” he asked gently. When her gaze turned away from his, he sighed internally. “You don’t have to speak of it, my dear.”

Those lavender-edged eyes rose to his. “It’s such a lovely night. Let us not sully it with talk of our respective pasts,” she murmured, and he nodded, brushing his lips across her palm before releasing her hand. “So you have Ryne and Jess. How many other fosterlings do you have in your little wayward family?”

Never loath to speak of his found family, Thancred brightened. “Besides those two, there’s Minfilia - you taught her a few years ago, as I recall.” When she nodded, he continued, “Also, two young men, Arenvald and G’raha Tia. Others come and go, but those three and Ryne and Jess are the ones that have stuck it out.”

He paused as the waiter came out and placed their dishes before them. “Is there anything else I might get you?” he asked politely. When Kal’istae shook her head with a smile, he nodded and went off, leaving them alone once more.

“How do they handle your relationship with Ryne?” Kal’istae asked once the waiter was gone. Thancred toyed with his fork before exchanging it for a pair of long wooden chopsticks, eying the dish set before him. “You have no idea what that is, do you?”

He exhaled noisily. “Not a damn clue. Ah well. Bottom’s up.” He dug his chopsticks into the mass of noodles and vegetables and meat and scooped up a mouthful, carefully taking a bite. “Hmm. Spicy.” Despite his calm tone, he nearly knocked over his beer reaching for the water next to it. After taking a healthy swallow, he sighed again. “There was some jealousy at first. Minfilia was used to being the one closest to me, and suddenly all of my time was spent with Ryne. She didn’t understand why this one was so important that I had even considered fostering her myself.”

His pale gold eyes warmed with amusement. “Gave me a hard time for a while, but I wasn’t going to share Ryne’s story; that was her business. Ryne finally told Minfilia about what happened to her, and it was like a complete one-eighty. Suddenly, Minfilia was the fierce older sister who would protect the baby at any cost. Eventually, they both settled down and now they’re probably the closest of the five.”

Kal’istae wielded her own chopsticks as she steadily made her way through her meal. “You must be so proud of Ryne. Of all of your siblings.”

Thancred began to stir through his food, picking out peppers. Slowly, a heaping pile began to build on an empty napkin. “I am,” he replied simply. “I’m proud of every child I help build back from trauma and neglect,” he added, “but each of my siblings has a singularly… traumatic… tale to tell about their childhood. Each of them needed that bit of extra support that only family, even found family, could provide. And I… I needed it too,” he admitted softly.

What was she supposed to do when every word dragged her deeper into the mire? What was she supposed to do when he looked at her with those pale gold eyes, silver hair catching the dim lighting. How was she supposed to resist the temptation that was a man who pushed all of her buttons, physically, intellectually, and now emotionally? “Why psychology?” she asked, desperately trying to ignore the flutter of wings in her belly every time he looked at her.

Thancred stared at the pile of peppers he had made, then eyed his noodles warily. “Why psychology? Because it was the best way I could think of to help.” He stabbed the sticks into the noodles and began to scoop up a cautious-sized bite. “After what Louisoix did for me, I was damned and determined to do the same for others. I wanted to - needed to - pay it forward. And what better way than learning how to help those whose childhoods were as bad - or worse - than mine navigate the road to recovery.”

Well, that line of questioning hadn’t helped solve her problem. Placing down her chopsticks, Kal’istae simply stared at him for a long moment, while he watched her with those pale gold eyes and steadily made his way through his de-peppered noodles. “Well,” she finally managed, “I’d say you’ve succeeded quite admirably.”

His lips curved, and she suspected he was pleased by her response to his words. “I have, beyond my expectations. And how about you? We established why the magic, now why teaching?”

Sipping at her drink to buy herself time, Kal’istae carefully considered her response. “In part because the Scholarch personally asked me to take this position, and as he had been almost fully responsible for my being admitted to the Studium in the first place, I could hardly deny him. And in part because I’m good at it - all of it, not just imparting information, but in tailoring my lessons to suit the student, in understanding that the kids are people too, and sometimes they struggle. Sometimes they have bad days. And sometimes they need a little grace.”

It was Thancred’s turn to fight against that primal urge to slide closer, to wrap himself around her and drown in her embrace. How? After all of these years, how? It should have been impossible; he was long past the age where he should have developed his first crush. And yet there she was, all lavender-edged eyes and indigo skin and pushing every button, checking every box. “Then I can only be grateful that you agreed to teach.”

Her eyes were soft as she gazed at him over the rim of her glass. “And I can only be grateful that you went into psychology.”

“Kali,” he began, and she straightened - but they were both interrupted as the kitchen door swung open and a tall, imposing Au Ra in a chef’s coat and hat came striding out. Thancred gave an exclamation of surprise just as the Au Ra’s eyes landed on him, and when the chef began to approach, he rose to his feet, delight on his face. “I should have known from the name. Kenchi! Look at you!”

“Sensei!” the man exclaimed, reaching out to take Thancred’s hand between his own and pumping it heartily before drawing the hyur in for an embrace. “When Lainee told me you’d confirmed your standing reservation, I was over the moon. I’ve been waiting all evening for you.”

Thancred gave an embarrassed laugh. “I’m sorry. I should have known,” he repeated, “but I didn’t realize you’d returned to Cartineau from Kugane. And as a chef! How you used to dream of it.” Still holding the Au Ra’s hand in his own, he turned, stretching his other hand towards Kal’istae. “Kali, this is Kenchi Asahni. I worked with him years ago, and it appears this is his restaurant. Kenchi, allow me to introduce you to Kal’istae Miurani. She teaches at the Academy for Magical Studies.”

The male Au Ra turned curious scarlet eyes on Kal’istae as she slid her fingers into Thancred’s hand and rose to greet him. “Chef Kenchi,” she greeted him with a smile, “it is an honor to meet you. The dinner was absolutely divine.”

His eyes slid towards Thancred briefly, widening to see the smile of affection on the hyur’s face as he gazed at his date. “Miss Kal’istae, it is an honor to meet you,” the chef replied as he reached out and took her hand as she offered it, brushing his lips over her fingers before releasing them both. “I wish I could stay to chat, but the kitchen won’t run itself. Please. Come again soon. You are always welcome here.” 

Thancred and Kal’istae remained standing as he beamed at them both, then turned and returned to the kitchen. “I never suspected. Last time I saw him was six years ago. He was boarding an airship to Kugane to attend the Royal Culinary Institute. I never thought I’d hear from him again.”

“You saw him off?” Kal’istae asked as they took their seats again.

Thancred was still staring at the kitchen door. “He asked me to. He wanted me to know that he was going to fulfill his dream. And he did. Gods. I’m so proud of him.” Tearing his eyes away from the door, he turned them on Kal’istae. “I think that’s the highlight of this portion of the evening. Would you like another drink, or are you ready to go?”

Temptation plucked at her; another drink would extend the date, extend their time together. And extend the chance that she might succumb to his blandishments, despite her personal promise not to. “I think ‘tis time we were off,” she said reluctantly. “As busy as they are, they hardly need us lingering and taking up valuable table space.”

Thancred merely nodded, raising his hand to signal to their server, who appeared moments later. “How may I help you?” the waiter asked warmly. “Would you care for another drink?”

“No, only the check,” Thancred replied.

The server looked puzzled. “There is no check.”

The hyur frowned. “We ate food. There’s a check,” he said flatly.

Smiling, the server shook his head. “No sir, I’m afraid you are mistaken. Chef Kenchi was most adamant on the topic.” Leaning in, the young miqo’te lowered his voice. “Surely you know, sir, that the Chef will have what the Chef will have.”

Far too familiar with his former patient’s stubborn streak, Thancred sighed. “Very well,” he capitulated with only a hint of irritation. “Farbeit for me to argue with free food.” He held out a hand to Kal’istae, who took it and rose again. “Shall we, my dear?”

“Indeed,” she agreed, unsuccessfully hiding her amusement. He sighed at her, then led her out, jostling against the table as they left. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw a small stack of gil - more than enough for a tip and then some - left behind beside their plates. Not even bothering to hide her smile, she turned back and allowed him to guide her from the still-crowded restaurant and into the cool night air.

“I don’t suppose I can talk you into dessert? Coffee? An evening walk through the park?” They were halfway back to her apartment and it seemed neither of them was keen on ending things for the evening. 

Kal’istae swallowed against the butterflies and shoved the temptation from each suggestion away. “I shouldn’t,” she murmured with significantly more regret than she’d meant to show. His fingers tightened on hers and she swayed closer so that her shoulder brushed his arm, and it was only natural that his hand should release hers, his arm draping across her wrap-covered shoulders.

Turning his head, Thancred inhaled, his fingers closing lightly about her shoulder as he drew her in so that as they walked, their bodies lightly brushed. She smelled of lavender and starflowers and the faint scents of herbs from dinner. “At least let me walk you to your door.”

And from there, a short step to inviting him in. “Sure,” she replied before her brain caught up to her tongue, and then it was too late for caution. Giving up, she laid her head against his arm, sliding her own about his waist, and felt his fingers tighten on her shoulder. “I’d like that a lot.”

They did not talk during the last block and a half, strolling arm and arm along the sidewalk while the moons rose above them and the stars came out to play. He refused to let her go even as they passed into the building, despite the fact that he could feel the shocked gaze of the lobby attendant upon them as they passed through to the elevators.

The ride up to the seventh floor was made in silence. Thancred leaned against the back wall and Kal’istae tucked herself inside his arm, resting her head lightly against his breast. He stroked his fingers through her hair, focused on keeping his breathing as even as possible. When the door opened, they hesitated before stepping out.

When he’d walked down this hall to her apartment earlier that day, those few steps had taken hours. Now it felt as though he stepped from the elevator and immediately, her door was before them. She slipped free of his arm and drew her keys from her purse. “Kali,” he began.

“Good night, Thancred,” she said, not turning as the lock snicked open.

He stared down at her, fighting against temptation. “Good night,” he said hoarsely.

She stared at her door, then cursed silently, whirling back just as he turned away. “Thancred.”

He immediately turned back. “Yes?” he asked, stepping towards her.

She stepped in, rising up on her tiptoes, and he reached down to catch her about the waist. Her arms curved around his neck and he lowered his head as she raised hers, his mouth covering hers with an almost indecent haste.

She tasted of a storm, that thin edge of lightning that rode the clouds and illuminated everything in its path in a glory of effervescent energy. She tasted of magic and aether, sharp and spicy, with a wicked tang that bit sharp and sudden, leaving him thirsting for more. He’d entertained a thousand kisses from a thousand women; never had one threatened to addict him for life as hers did.

He was peppermint and spice and just a hint of whiskey’s bite. His clever mouth was by turns soft and hard, drawing out the kiss with new promises every time the last one had been fulfilled. Beneath the infinite patience he wore like one of his suits, she could feel the simmer of restless hunger, of a want bordering on need that found its twin in her own breast.

Reluctantly, she pulled away, parting from him with an audible sigh as she lowered herself back to the ground. His eyes popped open, golden irises blurry with frustrated desire as he gazed down at her. “Thancred,” she sighed.

His hands slid up to frame her face, his thumbs hovering at the edges of her mouth as he gazed down into those longing lavender-edged eyes. “Kal’istae,” he replied roughly, and lowered his head to press a kiss to her forehead, just above the spray of obsidian scales. “Good night, sweet Kali. Sleep well.”

If she invited him in, he would come. She knew that. He would come, and they would make love and it was even possible he might stay the night. Her body ached for it. “Good night, Thancred,” she said instead, lifting her head to brush her lips briefly across his before extracting herself from his grip.

He watched as she backed into her apartment, as the door swung shut between them. And he watched for moments longer as he laboriously drew his body under control - at least until he would walk with some semblance of normalcy.

He retraced their path to elevator, to lobby. He ignored Candyne’s stare, knowing she’d expected not to see him again this evening. He’d hoped she wouldn’t - but he’d known she would. He respected Kal’istae’s caution, understood why she wanted to take it slow. He could be content to follow her lead.

After all, he thought as he raised his face to the stars above and slowly walked towards the nearest Underground entrance, pulling out his phone to send a quick text, to let his family know all had gone well, we have all the time in the world. And he smiled at the Lovers’ moon as he dreamed of days to come.

[ainyan]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by: @thelealinhypehouse

Tagging: @sasslett, @mxkelsifer, @mimble-sparklepudding, @eorzeashan, @irisopranta, @otherworldseekers, and anyone else!

From the Modern AU co-op fic with @sasslett:

Shaking his head, Thancred stepped onto the elevator as the doors parted and thumbed the button for the seventh floor. Beneath his feet, the elevator car rumbled and vibrated as it ascended. The ride was interminable; his mind raced through a hundred different ways he could play this, a thousand different ways it could go. Scenario after scenario, he rejected them all; suitable for a seduction, not a one seemed right for a date.

Had he ever actually been on a date? Was it a date when the only end goal was a bit of satisfaction with someone you had no intention of ever seeing again? Gods, he didn’t know. How was he supposed to know?

719. 720. He stared at the door marked 721, gripping the flowers in his hand and feeling an unexpected and entirely unwelcome heat at the back of his neck. Damn it, he was a grown man. He was never uncertain. Squaring his shoulders and firming his jaw, he knocked upon the door.

Moments passed - one second, two. He’d counted twelve seconds before he heard the locks snick and the door swung open to reveal Kal’istae smiling shyly up at him. He could only stare down at her, stunned to see her in that lovely lace-and-satin dress, all that indigo skin and those damned freckles - gods. Those freckles. He just wanted trace constellations all over her body and…

Clearing his throat, he forced his eyes up to hers and proffered her the bouquet of colorful flowers. “For you,” he said, immediately feeling lame.

[koukamisstuff]

Taste of Love

Chapter Twenty - A Drunk Confession

Masterlist - Previous / Next

Author's Note : Hiii everyone!! I hope all has been well with you. I'm so sorry it's taken so long to deliver this chapter, life just had its own way of flowing and I had to ride the wave out. But, I'm back and it's time our two start moving. I truly hope you like this chapter as it really just felt right when it went the way it did. Please look forward to the next as we navigate this Miya twin through his feelings. 🤣✌🏼 As always please continue staying safe and doing what makes you happy. Thank you for your continued love and support. 🙏🏻💖

*⋆*❀❁❀*⋆*❀❁❀*⋆*❀❁❀*⋆*❀❁❀*⋆*❀❁❀*⋆*

Taglist is OPEN! - Please leave an ask, message or comment if you would like to be added to the taglist! 😊

@onelostgirl @alfi-ry @notsoholychibichan @wolffmaiden @01trickster10 @kagehinaismysin @passionateuchiha @bokubooo @putmeinyourdeathnote @ajayke-reads @fandomsgotmefucked @not1isa @astrological-gay @anejuuuuoy @m1e-saun0 @luna-vitae-suae @neologyro @sassyglassesbunny @hydrogwyn @phoenix-eclipses @bananasquash @yuuuumiiin @ermespop @quill-ink @honeymilktea-writings @softforjoong @amisuh @astro-719 @kenkenmaaa @zlatanakermann @itsmikeysfault @bokutokiya @missalienqueen @namyari @nakaitoe @fantasycantasy @karasunoya @pan-cakez @sp1ng @rukia-uchiha-98 @itskrispy

[denimbex1986]

'Tom Cruise knows how to sell tickets—even to other people’s movies. “This summer is full of amazing movies to see in theaters,” the Mission: Impossible star wrote on Instagram recently, while he and director Christopher McQuarrie posed with tickets in front of posters for rival films. Cruise congratulated Harrison Ford for “creating one of the most iconic characters in cinema history” with Indiana Jones, and identified himself as one of the many people who’d make a double feature out of Oppenheimer and Barbie, which will go head-to-head in theaters as of July 21. His act of goodwill proved to be contagious, as he must have hoped it would. A few days later, Barbie director Greta Gerwig and star Margot Robbie tweeted their own photo shoot, in which they also waved tickets to their rivals: “Mission: Accepted!”

Summer box office used to be the ultimate showbiz blood sport. Now, publicly at least, it’s all kumbaya and collegiality, which says a lot about the industry’s enduring post-pandemic fears. Beneath the gracious social media shoutouts is a pervasive sense that if the public doesn’t fall back in love with in-person moviegoing for good now, the bottom will continue to fall out of the studio system and take stars down in the process. So far, summer 2023 has proven to be a bumpy ride. Sure-things have struggled, surprise sleepers have failed to emerge, and pressure is mounting on a handful of July titles to save the season.

Box office watchers are still predicting that movies like Mission: Impossible—Dead Reckoning Part One and Barbie can help summer ticket sales in the US and Canada hit $4 billion, which would be taken as a sign that the industry has indeed recovered from an anemic three years. But a trail of early underperformers—including DC’s The Flash, Pixar’s Elemental, and Indy’s fifth and final outing, Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny—has only stoked worries. With his cheerleading post, Cruise, the man who “saved Hollywood’s ass” last summer with Top Gun: Maverick, is attempting to stage a rescue mission again. This time he’ll have some help from Barbie and the atomic bomb.

Hollywood power brokers are watching all this closely, to say the least. “I was very excited after Super Mario Bros., and then I got a little more concerned after the last four weeks,” says producer Jason Blum, best known for low-cost horror hits Paranormal Activity, Insidious, and M3GAN. “The movie business has in no way bounced back like the live events business has, but I really think that it’s a matter of time.” Few expect earnings to surpass summer 2019 levels—when 32 films brought in $4.34 billion—but anything close will be a win. The industry is used to absorbing bad news—and hoping for last-minute salvation. “Not everything works,” says another studio executive poring over summer ticket sales, “but that’s just the movie business.”

There are reasons to be at least optimism-adjacent. Moviegoers still want to see spectacle—and they are willing to pay extra to see it on premium large-format screens. “2023 has definitely been a much fuller slate than pre-pandemic times,” says IMAX CEO Richard Gelfond. “And for us, it’s even a little more intense because the audience has shifted more to premium on a global basis. IMAX’s market share went up by 50% in North America and it’s gone up by about 40% globally. So it’s not only more competition within the industry, it’s more competition for IMAX screens. We think our box office will be similar to 2019.”

Similar is the new amazing.

Moviegoers signaled that they were ready to return to theaters last summer when they showed up in droves for Top Gun: Maverick, the top performer of the year with a staggering $719 million in US ticket sales, and Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, which outperformed 2016’s Doctor Strange. But the robust performance of a handful of titles belied ongoing challenges. Last winter, as one Oscar contender after another died gasping at the box office, a senior awards strategist told Vanity Fair, “the audience is just not there anymore for these sorts of movies.” One obstacle was simply a volume problem: Even though tentpoles like Avatar: The Way of Water were dominating the weekend, there just weren’t enough movies in theaters.

This summer, every weekend offers multiple options, and they’re often aimed at disparate demographics, as with the showdown referred to in some quarters as “Barbenheimer.” Since May 5, when Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 dropped, there’s been a steady beat of new releases, among them The Little Mermaid, Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, and Transformers: Rise of the Beasts. The major studios are expected to release 42 films widely across the country by Labor Day weekend. One studio executive moans about all this in a way that sounds almost nostalgic: “It’s such a crowded summer.”

Before Cruise began his goodwill campaign, the actor was involved in a behind-the-scenes fight for IMAX screens, according to Puck. His latest Mission: Impossible outing will play on IMAX screens for about a week, but then must give them up for Oppenheimer, which debuts a week later on July 21 and has all the screens exclusively booked for three weeks. That has little to do with earnings expectations, and everything to do with relationships. Nolan, a longtime IMAX champion, had struck a deal long before with the exhibitor to guarantee that his movie would play on those screens, regardless of who else parachuted into the market on a motorcycle.

IMAX’s Gelfond tells VF that he worked closely with Nolan and Universal on Oppenheimer’s release date more than a year ago. He visited the Mission: Impossible set and is “a huge fan of Tom’s,” he says, but this is the bottom line: “We made a commitment to Chris. Obviously, I think the movie’s going to be great, but irrespective, we honor our commitments.”

Executives worried about a crowded schedule are one sign that movies are back, baby. “We’ve had really big films since reopening from the pandemic, like Avatar and Top Gun and Spider-Man, but now we’re talking about many titles,” says Elizabeth Frank, the executive in charge of programming AMC Entertainment’s more than 10,000 screens. “People are saying, ‘Well, which one do you want to see first?’ And that’s a different level of excitement. In an industry where momentum is really important, it’s an opportunity for us to build back habitual moviegoing.”

In Hollywood, the weekend box office is treated with the same seriousness as the World Series. “I have a group of friends, we get together at the beginning of the year and we have a draft, we pick all the movies for the year, and points are awarded based on Metacritic score, based on box office, based on awards, and based on profitability,” says Blum, whose company, Blumhouse, has Insidious: The Red Door out on July 7. “We text each other every Thursday or Friday. I’m currently in second place.”

Guys like Blum no doubt pay closer attention to movie ticket sales than the average American, but even he has noticed that more people are following the money as they did years ago. “The box office derby is one of those things that everyone can be a part of,” says Paul Dergarabedian, an entertainment industry analyst for Comscore. “Not everyone has played professional sports or ridden a horse professionally or driven a race car, but we can all sit in a movie theater.”

More scrutiny, of course, means more headlines when movies stumble. For every winner like Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 (with its $356 million in domestic grosses) or Spider Man: Across the Spider-Verse ($346 million), there’s something like The Flash, which has pulled a meager $102 million in the US in spite of its reported $200 million budget, or Elemental, whose $29.6 million debut was considered a major flop for Disney’s Pixar. Meanwhile, Dial of Destiny, which reportedly cost $295 million, arguably needed to make a lot more over Fourth of July than it did. One bright spot? Studios are focusing more on profitability, which Blum contends, “everyone forgot about for about five years.” Now, he says, there’s more pressure to rein in costs: “The budget conversation was the last conversation when you were introducing new projects to buyers. Now it’s the first, which makes me happy because I think less expensive movies are often better and more interesting.”

Even before June gloom hit the box office, Hollywood had largely put its faith in Mission: Impossible, Barbie, and Oppenheimer to carry ticket sales. Now it’s even more imperative that all three titles find their audiences. Early tracking—which pegs the Mission: Impossible opening at around $90 million, Barbie somewhere north of $70 million, and Oppenheimer around $40 million—suggests that they will. Though Ethan Hunt will likely be the biggest star of the summer, media attention has focused squarely on the matchup between Barbie and Oppenheimer.

“I do think a rising tide lifts all boats,” says a top film agent. “When we have pictures in theaters that start to feel like they’re ‘watercooler’—which I really think the Barbie-Oppenheimer thing is becoming—it’s incredibly healthy for the box office, because what we’re doing is delivering an experience that people feel like was worth their time and money.”

AMC has been preparing for the summer movie season by extending operating hours at its theaters, hiring more staff, and making sure its Icee dispensers are full. “Increasingly, fans of different films are also looking for movie-themed merchandise and movie-themed drinks,” says Frank. “It makes the moviegoing experience that much more engaging and dynamic. It’s a little complicated, though, to be moving in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle cups while you’re figuring out whether you’ve still got a bunch of people who want the Mission: Impossible ones or the Barbie ones.”

Predicting the box office has always been like reading tea leaves or tarot cards. Even IMAX’s Gelfond admits to fixating on the returns—from the first night to the last. “Like a junkie,” he says. “I hate to admit it, but yes. Most of our movies open on Thursday nights because they’re big blockbusters. So by Friday morning, I’m on the phone with our distribution and marketing teams trying to understand what the weekend’s going to look like and what’s working and not working and why and why not.”

If you want to know how summer 2023 turns out, you’ll have to wait for the final reel.'

[johnlockdynamic]

I posted 8,207 times in 2022

That's 3,299 more posts than 2021!

719 posts created (9%)

7,488 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@platypusplayhere

@bulletsgirl

@takemetosynagogue

@thebusylilbee

@itsrapsodia

I tagged 1,612 of my posts in 2022

#cj talks - 698 posts

#interview with the vampire - 98 posts

#jacob anderson - 75 posts

#gif - 74 posts

#louis de pointe du lac - 70 posts

#loustat - 69 posts

#sam reid - 57 posts

#lestat de lioncourt - 55 posts

#iwtv - 53 posts

#ofmd - 21 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#ive done exactly 0 of the life milestones people have at this age. it’s not ‘she acts like she’s in 7th grade but actually she’s 20gay’

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

See the full post

5,322 notes - Posted October 31, 2022

#4

pov: you’re being sent to superhell for choosing your daughter over your cheating husband 

6,727 notes - Posted October 23, 2022

#3

See the full post

7,310 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

#2

9,402 notes - Posted December 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

not sure how to feel about celebrities moving to tumblr... on one hand folks rejecting Elon’s tyranny and bolstering a platform that actually promotes democratization of speech is great. (on tumblr there are no blue checks or visible follower counts. you ride or die through the strength of your takes alone.) on the other hand get off my lawn. I am hissing like an irate goose

57,307 notes - Posted November 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[sidebysidefuryco]

Side by Side Fury

Side by Side Fury: Fueling Your Off-Road Adventures in Colorado

Nestled in the heart of Castle Rock, Colorado, Side by Side Fury is the premier destination for all your ATV and UTV needs. We specialize in working with customers to build their custom UTV. As an authorized Segway Powersports dealers, we bring you the best in off-road vehicles, combining power, performance, and reliability in every machine we sell.

Our expansive showroom features a diverse selection of new and pre-owned ATVs and UTVs, catering to both seasoned riders and newcomers to the off-road world. Whether you're looking for a rugged workhorse for your property or an adrenaline-pumping ride for weekend adventures, we have the perfect vehicle to match your needs and budget.

But Side by Side Fury is more than just a dealership. We're your comprehensive resource for everything UTV related. Our parts department stocks an extensive inventory of genuine components and aftermarket accessories. We have thousands of parts and accessories and ship worldwide! From essential maintenance items to performance upgrades and custom add-ons, we have what you need to keep your ride in top condition and personalized to your taste.

When it comes to service, our certified technicians bring years of experience and a passion for off-road vehicles to every job. Whether you need routine maintenance, complex repairs, or custom modifications, our state-of-the-art service center is equipped to handle it all. We pride ourselves on quick turnaround times, quality workmanship, and transparent communication throughout the service process.

What sets Side by Side Fury apart is our deep-rooted passion for the off-road lifestyle. As avid riders ourselves, we understand the thrill of conquering challenging trails and the importance of reliable equipment. This firsthand experience informs every aspect of our business, from the products we recommend to the advice we offer.

We're more than just a business -- we're a hub for the local off-road community. Throughout the year, we organize group rides, demo days, and educational workshops, providing opportunities for our customers to connect, learn, and share their love for off-road adventures.

Serving Colorado, Side by Side Fury is conveniently located for all your ATV and UTV needs. Our knowledgeable and friendly staff are always ready to assist you, whether you're making your first purchase, upgrading your current ride, or seeking expert advice on trails and riding techniques.

Visit our website to explore our inventory, schedule a service appointment, or learn about upcoming events. Follow us on social media to stay updated on the latest products, deals, and community happenings.

At Side by Side Fury, we're not just selling vehicles -- we're fueling adventures, building a community, and sharing our passion for the off-road lifestyle. Come visit us and discover why we're Colorado's go-to destination for all things UTV. Let's unleash your inner fury and hit the trails together!

Address: 747 S Gilbert St, Castle Rock, CO 80104, US Phone: (719) 286-9236 Website: https://sidebysidefury.com/ Contact email: SALES@SIDEBYSIDEFURY.COM

Visit Us: Side by Side Fury Facebook Side by Side Fury Instagram Side by Side Fury LinkedIn Side by Side Fury YouTube Side by Side Fury Twitter

[twowheelerexplorer]

BMW R 1300 GS Unveiled: Power, Performance, and Adventure Await!

Calling all adventure enthusiasts, the wait is over! BMW Motorrad India has finally announced the launch of the highly anticipated BMW R 1300 GS, the successor to the legendary R 1250 GS. Scheduled to hit showrooms on June 13, 2024, this new-generation adventure tourer promises a thrilling ride packed with improvements that elevate its off-road prowess and overall capability.

A Powerhouse for Every Terrain

The R 1300 GS boasts a completely new, larger 1,300cc boxer engine, generating a heart-pounding 145 bhp and a commanding 149 Nm of torque. This potent mill, paired with a refined 6-speed gearbox, delivers exhilarating performance on any terrain. But power isn't everything. BMW engineers have cleverly redesigned the engine layout, placing the gearbox underneath, resulting in a remarkable 12 kg weight reduction compared to its predecessor. (Fuel efficiency figures to be announced soon!)

Uncompromised Handling and Comfort

The R 1300 GS tackles any adventure with confidence thanks to its new sheet metal frame and a revised suspension setup. The iconic EVO Telelever remains at the front, complemented by a brand new EVO Paralever at the rear. This dynamic duo, along with the optional dynamic suspension, ensures exceptional handling and a comfortable ride, even on the most challenging trails. Whether you're conquering mountain passes or cruising down highways, the R 1300 GS prioritizes rider comfort with an ergonomically designed seat (details to be revealed soon).

Technology Meets Exploration

Adventure doesn't have to compromise on safety or convenience. The R 1300 GS comes loaded with a plethora of features, including multiple ride modes, advanced traction control, switchable ABS, and radar-assisted cruise control. A stunning 6.5-inch TFT digital instrument console displays all the vital information you need, keeping you focused on the journey ahead. For those seeking even more electronic assistance, BMW offers an optional Pro Package that further enhances the bike's capabilities. Plus, stay connected on your rides with smartphone connectivity (details to be revealed soon).

Three Ways to Unleash Your Inner Explorer

The R 1300 GS caters to diverse riding styles with a choice of three exciting variants:

Triple Black: A bold and aggressive statement for the urban adventurer.

GS Trophy: Inspired by the legendary GS Trophy competition, this variant is equipped for conquering any terrain.

Option 719 Tramuntana: This premium option boasts a unique aesthetic and exclusive features for the discerning rider.

The Adventure Starts Now!

The excitement doesn't stop here. We recently had the privilege of putting the new R 1300 GS to the test on the challenging yet breathtaking landscapes of Ladakh. Stay tuned for our comprehensive review coming soon on June 13th! Get ready to dive deeper into the R 1300 GS's performance, features, and everything that makes it the ultimate companion for your next adventure.

Unleash your inner explorer! Visit your nearest BMW Motorrad dealership today or explore more on their website: https://www.bmw-motorrad.in/en/home.html

TwoWheelerExplorer: Where motorcycle news meets expert insights.

[ao3feed-deckerstar]

No Place You Can Hide

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/C0L7yJI

by PromiseTrujillo95

Hope learns some interesting things about Landon Morningstar and it wasn't just his wings. More like the guy she's chosen to take a chance on is the literal devils son. Who so happens to be retired from Hell and running a club by the name of Lux in the heart or Los Angeles.

More than that, she's now under interigation from his two older sister's, and possibly his mother Chloe.

Words: 719, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 9 of One Hundred Percent Devil, Ninety Eight Percent Human, Two Percent Avian

Fandoms: Lucifer (TV), The Originals (TV), Maximum Ride (2016), Legacies (TV 2018)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death

Categories: F/M

Characters: Chloe Decker, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Rory Morningstar, Trixie Espinoza, Landon Kirby, Hope Mikaelson

Relationships: Landon Kirby/Hope Mikaelson, Landon Kirby & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Trixie Espinoza & Landon Kirby, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker & Rory Morningstar, Lucifer Morningstar & Rory Morningstar, Trixie Espinoza & Rory Morningstar

Additional Tags: Dead Hayley Marshall, Family, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/C0L7yJI

[ticktockstuck-ezodiac]

PEGANS Sign of the Rocking

PEG(A)* = Sugilite Sign • *ANS = Derse + Sleep

◈≫༻──◇──◇──༺≪◈≫༻──◇──◇──༺≪◈

#719: A sign for those who are active but never seem to go anywhere, as if perpetually running in place. They're not always alone for the ride, but eventually their passengers get off and they're right back where they started again.

◈≫༻──◇──◇──༺≪◈≫༻──◇──◇──༺≪◈

Sugilite Signs • Sleepbound Signs • Derse Signs