#i'll need to replace 7

[rosykims]

so if i start this j*b in july do we think i have the time but more importantly the courage and discipline to save for a 3k pc overhaul before datv drops. serious answers only

[orphiicheartd]

Taking a break from the tw.st but I FUCKEN LOVE THE MASQUERADE SO FAR AAAAAA

[plethorawrites]

Here I request a damian x sunshine! fem! reader where reader is extremely passionate about art and everything magical. She loves translating whimsical visions into paint and flowery scenes too!!! Despite her extremely bubbly personality, her precious smile falters when people complement her works and she ends up stiff and avoiding eye-contact. Pair that with a tsundere Damian and I see sm fluff and cuteness><!!!! If u have the time ofc:D!!!... Otherwise, have a lovely day!! or night... x3!

I can absolutely make time. (I'll admit, I did have to look up tsundere because I'm not heavy into anime aside from a few shows, but I know now!)

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Damian Wayne would HATE a sunshine reader at first. The over the top, bubbly, smiling appearance annoyed him to no end.

School was beneath him and had been since he was in middle school. He thought he had grown to at least be able to tolerate it by the time he was a senior in highschool, so close to escaping it. Maybe his father would finally accept that he didn't need futile lessons when he already had an IQ higher than Einstein.

But then, in his very last year, he was thrown one last curve ball. A perky, energetic, irritatingly happy girl who somehow managed to be in every single one of his classes.

How anyone could be sitting with her done and her clothes pressed, thrilled to be alive at 7 am for Political Science, he didn't know. He certainly had no interest in it.

She always raised her hand to answer questions and always got them right, too. His only real interest was the art program he had right after lunch.

It was just his luck she was there too, sitting right next to him, humming while she spread her paints on the palette, mixing colors. It took at his willpower not to tell her to shut up. He figured she'd stop at some point.

The humming persisted until her brush actually hit the canvas, then, it was dead silent. He glanced over, confused by how she had miraculously shut up for basically the first time since 7 am. Her eyes were focused on the canvas, watching the paint smoothly spread over it. He looked over again and again throughout the class, noticing the way her forehead crinkled and her teeth sink into her bottom lip while concentrating.

He scowled, though, when the teacher complimented her painting, claiming it was "Bright, but had a hidden depth to be explored." Unlike his, which was. "Very dark and telling of his thoughts."

That annoyed him a bit, but not for long because it was replaced by confusion when she just shrugged meekly, avoiding the teacher's eyes. She did that a lot, he soon found after watching her a bit more instead of making a conscious decision to stop ignoring her entirely.

He saw her cheeks redden when the teachers said her answers were right or congratulated her on a text. He noticed her looking down at her desk when a classmate said something along the lines of asking for her help because she was doing really well in the subject. He saw her bury her head in her locker, pretending not to hear when guys asked her out.

Eventually, he was just too damn curious and after yet another football player got shot down, she took a breath, lifting her head out of her locker right before Damian slammed it shut with his hand.

He leaned against the locker beside it, his arms crossed, asking what was wrong with the guy for her to reject him. "Aside from the obvious lack of brain cells and the fact that he's on a one way track for steroid addiction and early balding, of course."

She snorted a laugh, covering her face as it reddened, before clearing her throat and replying. "Just wasn't interested."

"Who are you interested in, then?" He couldn't help but ask. "You've turned down the jocks, the nerds, the supposed bad boy who is a Mama's boy in disguise, and the suave poet who left notes in your locker. Not many cliques left. So, you're clearly not finding anyone who's your type. What js your type, anyway?"

Her lips quirks. "Are you stalking me, or something?"

No. Of course not. He had way better things to do. But...it wasn't like he wasn't bored out of his mind during school hours since he already knew everything in every class. So, maybe in a way, he was watching. Slightly.

"You're not interesting enough for me to bother," he retorted with no real bite. "You are a bit of an enigma though. I don't like those."

"Sorry. Not trying to be," she promised just shrugging. "But if you ever want to try to figure it out, go for it."

So, he does. He could easily run a background search, but that wasn't how he wanted to do it. No, he'd rather figure her out by himself.

During class, he paid special attention to her notes, taken with a pink pen, mostly covered in doodles of flowers and mountains, or a forest of some kind with a creek.

She, he admitted to himself, was quite good. Even better with paints during art class. He started asking questions, starting off easily.

"Why those colors?"

"Is there a memory attached?"

"Did you have a sketch to go off?"

Then, he started catching up with her at lunch, because it was the best time to really grill her.

"Why did you move to Gotham?" "

Where are you from?"

"No siblings, I'm sure, because you don't ever text or talk about one."

"You look allergic to carrots, since you keep picking them out of the salad during lunch. That or you just hate them. Which is it?"

He'd occasionally slip up though, without realizing, by starting a question with a compliment.—"Since you're good at art, I assume you've practiced since you were a child." The tips of her ears burned red and he frowned. "Why can you never take a compliment?" He asked.

"I can, I do," she defended.

"Yeah, but not well. You get all...weird about it." His voice was a bit less accusatory and more gentle.

She shrugged. "Just don't like them."

He couldn't understand that. Everyone liked compliments. It was the reason the world was polluted by attention seekers looking for praise.

"How come?" He pushed.

"Just don't," she insisted.

"Don't really feel like they're accurate." He hummed. "So, you have low self esteem despite your annoyingly perky attitude, then," he surmised.

Her eyes widened. "I do not!"

She definitely did, he knew then and there by her reaction. Her cheeks got redder, flushing to the point it looked like heavy blush and she stormed off, leaving her salad.

He ate the carrots, nodding to myself. He had finally figured her out.

But, for some reason, that wasn't enough.

He thought he'd be satisfied, but he wasn't. If anything, he felt a bit bad for pushing so hard when she clearly didn't like attention despite always being the center of it, just by being herself.

The next time they had art class, he complimented her painting, just to see her blush. It was really quite cute. So was she. Not that he could admit it.

He did it again and again until she was frustrated and he was amused, asking her to just admit it, which she finally did when they were alone in the classroom after it was let out.

"Fine!" She exclaimed. "Yes, I have low self esteem. I don't like compliments, they make me feel weird."

"That's called validation. You get it because you're good at things," he told her, his voice completely sincere despite trying to be sarcastic.

She held her arms, avoiding his eyes like she always did when she got a compliment. "Great, I'm competent. Doesn't mean people have to say."

Damian frowned a bit. "Humans are hardwired to say what we see. Just like we're designed to see what we say. But you don't do that part. You never see the reason behind all those compliments," he explained.

She scoffed lightly and it was perhaps the first time he'd ever seen so much attitude from her. "I see plenty. Students who want to walk all over me like a door mat because I'm nice and every guy just want to date me to say they've done me—" "

That is an incredibly crude thing to say about yourself," he interrupted. "Not to mention entirely untrue."

She rolled her eyes. Again with the attitude. It seemed she really was capable of it when she was fed up with something or he supposed someone. Him.

"Oh, please, spare me," she muttered sarcastically.

"I'm serious," he repeated. "That's untrue. Some guys, yeah, maybe even most. Definitely the dumbass football guy who is failing homemaking somehow. But plenty of men, who actually know how to be respectful, would appreciate you. And for more than your looks, as well."

"Oh, the sparkling personality, you mean? The one you think is a facade."

He had thought that. At first.

He sighed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. "It's not a facade, but you have more layers than that." Her head tilted so he elaborated. "There's more than just the pink pens and highlighters, like the study method you use to scribble and write simultaneously for better retention rates. You're naturally bright, probably a B average if you didn't study, but you do."

"So?" She wondered.

"So," he parroted. "You make A's because you have a strong work ethic. Because you come from a family who prioritized it, maybe even to the point you were almost neglected from how often they were gone because you always seem fine going last, or getting whatever scraps you're handed inside of fighting for anything else."

She frowned, not at all liking to hear that. Not only because it was slightly true. Alright, definitely true. But also because it was something she worked to keep hidden.

"I thought you said I don't put up a facade?" She countered.

"You don't. You're happy, and bubbly, always looking on the bright side and that's not a ruse. It's who you are," he clarified. "But you can still get angry, frustrated, annoyed, especially when your character is called into question. Clearly."

She didn't know how to feel about the tone in his voice during that last part. "You can stop, now."

But he didn't. He didn't want to. He'd spent so long trying to figure her out and he was so sure he had done that he was his work to pay off, for her to admit he was right or at the very least hear what he had to say, even if she didn't want to say it was true.

"You're not vain about your looks, even though you could be without effort because you're easily the prettiest girl in this entire school."

Those words came out of nowhere, especially the last few. But he had said them and there was no taking them back, even if he wanted to.

It was silent for a while.

"You really are a stalker," she quipped quietly, looking to the floor.

He huffed in annoyance. "Take the damn compliment," he insisted, stepping closer to her, lifting her chin. "Look in my eyes, not away and just accept it."

He waited, to see if she'd push him away or let him compliment her. He swallowed, suddenly feeling the urge to go red as well, but refusing to allow himself to.

"Fine," she agreed in a whisper, locking eyes with him. That alone was clearly already hard, but she was trying. "You're not just the most beautiful girl at this stupid school," he muttered. "I think you could quite possibly be the most beautiful I've ever seen at all. Especially with that blush you seem to hate and hide."

Her cheeks got redder, her lips twitching to avoid any sign of emotion and it was clearly hard for her to look away, hating the level of attention. "It's not cute, it's utterly embarrass—"

"Don't try to refute it either," he interrupted, shaking his head calmly. "Just...just accept it. Please."

He said please. God, he hated doing that.

But it seemed to work and she gave a small nod, finally listening.

He nodded back, letting go of her jaw, stepping back and clearing his throat.

She stared for a bit, before grabbing the rest of her things and leaving him alone to blow out a long sigh, mentally cursing himself for that entire exchange. Perhaps even getting curious about her in the first place.

But then, a second later, she walked back in, the flush less prominent on her cheeks and ears. It was replaced by the look in her eyes, which seemed rather determined despite a bit of apprehension.

"You asked me, like six weeks ago, what my type was," she reminded him.

His eyes narrowed, recalling the conversation. The first time they ever actually had one. He meant it mostly as a quip or some dig. "Yeah, considering you've turned down like 3/4 of the boys in this school. Plus a few girls, for that matter."

She huffed a laugh, gripping the books in her arms closer to her chest and nodding. "Yeah, well, they weren't my type, you were right," she confirmed causing a bit of a smug expression to cross his face. "I didn't even really know I had one, but uh- I think I might."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?" He questioned, adding another quip. "Let me guess, older guys. You've been giving the math teacher eyes all week."

She shook her head firmly. "No, definitely not," she told him. "I'm pretty sure my type is the weird, stalker boys who are actually really sweet."

[kurohe]

Things you can do to actively participate in the revolution

Here's the list !

I know some of those will look really silly, i promise they are not. And obviously, this is not a checklist, you don't have to do everything. But they're steps that you can absolutely take if you wish to, and they WILL help.

(Thanks everyone for your help, and for adding things yourself with your reblogs <3)

(under the cut !)

1) Let's start off with a very easy one you can do right now: stop using Chrome. It's a google owned browser, and it sents all of your data towards it. Mozilla is a very good replacement, but almost anything will do, really. Also, resign your amazon prime subscription. We revolting against capitalism as a whole, and this is a good first step to not freely give em your data and money

2) Start stealing things from supermarkets and malls. I am not kidding. Little things, that aren't really monitored: a can of food, a lighter, a pair of socks. Condiments are particularly easy to hide in bags or pockets. Steal hygiene products, steal food.

Remember that you should have access to those for free, and you don't because a few rich guys don't want you to.

Additional tip: train station stores are very easy to steal from, because they're so busy. But don't put yourself in danger. Check beforehand if they check bags at checkout, look out for employees that might notice what you're doing. Don't be reckless.

(edit: imma say this, you should read up on what the risks of stealing are, for you and others. Stealing from big stores is IMO always morally right, but it is risky for many reasons. Be careful)

3) In the same line, if you see someone stealing anything from a big store, no you didn't.

4) I know a lot of people are scared of disrespecting rules. By fear of being caught, or by guilt. My advice is: start disrespecting stupid, meaningless rules. I don't have specific exemples, but you'll encounter them and wonder why you're doing that. Stop doing it. This will train you to be able to disobey autority way easier.

5) Put stickers everywhere. If you already have them, go ham. Especially on public property (lamposts are amazing). If you don't, buy them from artists or independant stores, not big brands. If you cannot afford them, remember that you can simply write stuff on an A4 paper and plaster it to walls. Or even post its !

6) Carry a sharpie with you at all time, the big black ones. If you see propaganda, scribble it out. Keep a look out for terfs stickers, maga posters, etc. Also good for getting rid of transphobic and sexist stuff written on public restroom stalls !

7) Buy locally. This means going to the market or small stores, and thrifting your clothes. If you can't for money or accessibility reasons, try trading with your friends, family and neighbours. Get communication going in your circles, and you'll realise there are a lot of things that you can simply trade with or buy from people around you. Like a jar of jam against some eggs, or a pair of socks for a t-shirt you don't wear anymore !

8) Learn how to sew. I know, that sounds dumb ! But i promise you, not only will it be amazing to trade with other people ("i'll sew back ur shirt and in exchange, you give me a can of peaches !"), corporations also haaaate when you know how to fix your clothes. Because they want you to buy more. You'll spend a lot less money if you know how to fix em

9) If you have the space and the money, grow your own food, and share it or sell it around you. Be careful, some assholes will call the FDA on you. Do that with people you trust.

Additional tip: growing vegetables and fruits can be a real nightmare. You can absolutely start by just growing some basil or mint :)

10) Organise. Join leftist groups online, even if it's just to see what's being said, you don't even need to interact. Follow creators, repost and share their content. By doing that, you'll stay informed on group movements like strikes, protests and boycotts, which you can then participate in. It's very important you're connected to other ppl and the movements that are started !

11) Unionize. I'm very sorry I don't know the exact way unions work in the US, but if you can, join one. They will help you in times of needs, especially if you're a student or a worker. If you're not sure how to do that, absolutely ask around to people you know are very active politically, around you or online. People will help.

12) Stay. Informed. Follow independant papers and news outlet. If you can afford it, give them a dollar or two. They are fighting everyday for access to unbiased information for all, and sadly, their independance means that they rely almost entirely on donations and people simply engaging with what they put out.

If you can't access those: do not get your news from TV. Ever. Or anywhere else that has been bought by the far right. Sadly, the majority of TV channels are just the worst.

And, most importantly: fact check. All of the time.

13) Share that information. Talk to those you trust and who are ready to listen to you, and tell them about what's happening. Get angry with them. Revolution stems from people coming together and realising that they're being used and profited off of. Share videos and posts relating to politics, especially informative videos.

14) Go to protests ! If you've never been, i know it can be scary. But you can stay in the middle (don't go all the way to the front, that's where stuff can get heated) and scream and walk with everyone else. You'll meet people who, like you, want things to change. Capitalism wants you to stay as unconnected to others as possible, and that's a great way to fight that.

Sometimes, there are sites that have a planning for all protests happening in a city. Look up if one exists for yours

15) Create and strenghten community. I know i really struggled with this one, because it's so vague. But here's a few places you can start:

-Go and introduce yourself to your neighbours, if you deem it safe. Give them a little gift if you can afford it, like a pack of pasta.

-Make new friends, even if they aren't deep friendships. You need connections. Online or irl, both are fine- don't stay isolated.

-If you already have community, go check on them right now. Ask your friends how they're doing, and if they need anything- ask how they're being impacted by what's happening right now politically.

16) Look for ways to fuck over the institutions in easy ways. One example that went around tumblr a lot is letting dandelions grow in your backyard, because landlords fucking hate it. If you work in retail or fast food, cheat. Accidentally forget to scan the diapers. Put in 7 nuggets instead of 6.

(edit: been told that it's very risky for walmart workers to not scan things, so beware.)

17) Engage in art. MAKE art. Music, shitty paint drawings, craft, anything as long as you're being creative. Share it. If you feel like you can't do that, then support artists. Make a point to look up cool illustrations, and new music. Go to the cinema.

If you're an artist currently in an underpaid office job, please, by the love of god, be creative during office hours. You're underpaid, they do not deserve your full time and attention. Take 30 minutes to write that snippet you've been thinking about.

(and actually, if you're underpaid at all: do the minimum required. So that you can't be fired, but that's it. Any more effort is not worth it. Companies will never be thankful for what you do.)

18) Look up books that your state banned, and go read them. You can get them secondhand, or as pdfs online. (if anyone needs ressources, i will glady look for and share them.)

And, actually, read books in general if you can. Yes, fanfics count !

19) Seek education. There's a lot of youtube channels out there talking about educational subjects in a fun way. Some things the rich assholes who run the country specifically don't want you to learn more about are: biology, history and archeology, social and economic sciences. GO LEARN ABOUT THOSE.

The people in power don't want you to be educated. It's why they eviscerated the education system.

20) PIRATE. I cannot stress this enough, anything you can pirate (that isn't from small, indie creators, except if you absolutely can't afford it) do it. Download music illegally, torrent movies and games. If you want access to academical studies and papers, some writers will give them to you for free if you email them about it. There are also ways to go around paywalls.

21) Don't fall for the traps of "progressive brands". Lately, i've seen a lot of praise for Ben and Jerry's for openly supporting lgbtq rights and being globally anti-trump. They are still a brand. Avoid buying from any big names when you can. That being said, if you have to, check beforehand which ones and what their history is. Some are more evil than others.

Additional tip: a lot of brands you see in stores are actually owned by bigger brands. One prime example of this is Nestle, who are fucking evil, but they own a shitload of other big names. Be careful what you buy.

22) I hate to say this, but be prepared to defend yourself. Revolutions are never peaceful. You will get in danger. If you can, get in ok physical shape. Learn how to run fast and fight well.

If none of those are available options to you, please, make sure you have someone around you that will be able to protect you, or a place where you can be safe. Whether you are disabled, a minor, or anything else. Don't put yourself in more danger than is necessary.

(this used to also include getting a gun. I deleted it because i don't feel comfortable recommending this. But it's still an option.)

23) Last but not least, be kind. When someone cuts off a woman speaking, interrupt and give her the floor back. Shame those who think it's right to say bigoted shit in public. Listen to those around you. If you can't act, then remember to always have empathy for the homeless, for drug users, for immigrants. Understand they are people just like you. You are not immune to propaganda and prejudice, no matter who you are. Always question yourself and your biases.

(if you've read this far, please repost. We need this to reach as many people as possible)

I want to remind you that you're not alone. I know things seem hopeless, but the simple fact that you're reading this is proof it's not. I don't live in the US, but i'm supporting you as best i can from where i am, and sending you strenght.

If you have any questions, do ask away. I'll end on this image that's very dear to me:

[rafecameronssl4t]

Gold, Coffee, and Mabel || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: based on s3 ep 7 with that scene above except it includes reader and Mabel 🥰🥰

Warnings: swearing, other than that fluff!!!

Word count: 1,036

A/n: yeah I procrastinated and wrote this in like 5 mins

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

"And you're sure this guy’s good?" Barry asks, his voice tinged with doubt as he glances sideways at Rafe, who walks beside him, hands casually stuffed in his pockets. They round the corner, and Rafe hums in response, clearly unconcerned.

"I mean, we’ve got a lot of people to see today," Rafe adds, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t even look at Barry, his gaze sweeping over the street with anticipation. It’s clear to Barry that Rafe is in his element, the prospect of a profitable day of gold-selling putting a spring in his step.

Rafe was confident, and that confidence was infectious. Today was going to be a good day. Hell, it was going to be a great day. He could feel it in his bones. Barry opens his mouth to ask about the next move, but the words die on his lips as Rafe suddenly comes to a halt.

Barry nearly collides with him, caught off guard by the abrupt stop. "What the fuck?" Barry blurts out, confusion etched on his face. Rafe doesn’t answer, his focus now entirely on a woman sitting at an outdoor table at a nearby café.

Without a word, he strides over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder and leaning down to kiss her, leaving Barry standing there like an idiot. It’s only when he sees the way Rafe's lips curve into a familiar smile that Barry realises who the woman is. It’s you.

“What are you doing here?” Rafe asks, his voice softening, a warm smile spreading across his face as he takes in the sight of you and Mabel. The hard edge that usually defines Rafe’s tone melts away, replaced by something warmer, gentler. You glance up at him, a bright smile lighting up your features.

"Having brunch with Mom," you reply adjusting Mabel so that Rafe can scoop her up into his arms. He does so effortlessly, his movements tender as he cradles his daughter against his chest.

Barry, still trying to piece together what's happening, blurts out, “Shit, almost didn't recognise ya-” , but Rafe cuts him off with a sharp look. "Language, Barry," Rafe says, his voice low and warning, a stark contrast to the affectionate tone he just used with you.

Barry throws his hands up in mock surrender. "My bad, my bad," he mutters, glancing at you with an apologetic smile. You chuckle at his usual antics. "Maybe because of my hair," you say, running a hand through your freshly coloured locks, your eyes bright as you wait for Barry's reaction.

"Looks good," Barry says, genuine in his compliment. You thank him with a nod, your eyes crinkling in the corners. As Rafe settles into a chair, Mabel perched contentedly on his lap, Barry shifts his weight, reminding himself of the job they’re supposed to be doing.

“Country club, don’t we need to get goin'?” he prods, noticing how comfortable Rafe seems, his focus entirely on entertaining Mabel, who giggles at his playful antics. You smile at the sight, feeling a warmth in your chest before you turn to Barry. “Busy day ahead?” you ask, a knowing glint in your eye.

Barry shoots a glance at Rafe, who seems completely absorbed in his role as a father, oblivious to the conversation and Barry’s questioning gaze. “Uh, yeah. Apparently so,” Barry replies with a chuckle, still not entirely sure how this unexpected stop fits into their tight schedule.

“I’m just going to order some coffee for my mom, I'll be two seconds,” you say, standing up from the table. "I’ll come with you. Might as well grab a coffee while we’re here," Rafe says, rising to his feet. He looks down at Mabel, then back at Barry with a grin. “Mind holdin' her for a minute?”

Before Barry can protest, Rafe is already handing Mabel over to him. Barry’s eyes widen in panic as Mabel, with her big blue eyes, stares up at him with a curious expression. He stands there stiff as a board, awkwardly patting her back and trying to figure out how to hold a baby without looking like a complete idiot.

As Rafe and you disappear into the café, Barry glances nervously at the door, silently begging one of you to come back quickly. At first, Mabel seems fine, but then her bottom lip starts to tremble. Before Barry can react, she lets out a wail, her cries escalating quickly. “Fuck—shit! No, no, no, please don’t cry,” Barry mutters under his breath, his heart racing as he tries to bounce her gently, but her cries only grow louder.

Just as Mabel’s wails reach a peak, you emerge from the café with Rafe right behind you. Relief floods Barry’s face, but it’s quickly replaced by anxiety as you approach, your eyebrows raised in a mix of concern and amusement.

“Did you make my daughter cry?” you ask, taking Mabel in your arms, though there’s a teasing lilt to your voice that Barry is too flustered to pick up on. Barry looks like a deer caught in headlights, especially under Rafe’s intense gaze. “What? No! I swear, I didn’t do anything—” Barry stammers, his face flushed, but you laugh, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

“I’m just messing with you. She’s probably just hungry,” you say, glancing at your watch before pulling out Mabel’s bottle. Barry lets out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck as the tension slowly eases from his shoulders.

Rafe watches the interaction with a smirk, clearly amused by Barry’s discomfort. “Well, we should get going,” Rafe finally says, leaning in to give you a kiss before gently pressing his lips to Mabel’s forehead. She’s already drinking her bottle, her little hands reaching up to grab at Rafe’s chin, making you chuckle softly at the adorable sight.

"I’ll see you at home later," Rafe says warmly, his eyes locking with yours as he leans in for one last kiss. He gives Mabel a gentle smile before glancing back at you, a lingering look full of affection. With a final nod, he turns to Barry, the smile still playing on his lips, as they head off to make a shit ton of money.

[soul-controller]

It All Comes Out In The Wash

Happy Pride! Based on the poll results, y'all are torn between this story and Streamer to Streamer: Pride... so, I'll be posting both of them this month. The other story will be coming in a week or two, so stay tuned.

Whenever Theo Hastings had a rough day at work, there was nothing that could brighten up his spirits than some retail therapy. Although working in retail himself might have dissuaded him from stepping foot inside another retail establishment until his next shift, the 25-year-old stocker felt differently as it provided a much needed sense of relaxation. Without a manager hounding him to put things away at a breakneck speed 24/7, he now had the ability to roam aisles at his own pace and just waste time as cheery pop songs softly echoed from the shop’s speakers. Plus, there truly seemed to be nothing that could rival the thrill he felt of swiping his debit card and seeing “transaction approved” flash on the screen – not only due to his poor finances and the worry of getting rejected but getting to walk away with a bag full of items in tow.

So as Theo stood in front of the thrift store, whose weathered sign looked like it too had been thrifted, the man’s lips pulled back into a slight smile. With 30 minutes left to go still before his and his boyfriend’s to-go dinner order was ready at a restaurant inside the same plaza, he pushed aside the slight aching of his muscles and finally entered the shop.

Instantly, the man’s senses were assaulted by the atmosphere of the shop. Despite having a cozy style with the antiqued decor that surrounded the endless racks of clothing, the space was incredibly cluttered and the scent of mothballs so prominent that Theo could instantly feel the rumblings of a migraine begin to emerge. He refused to be deterred from his mission though, looking around and smiling before beginning to venture into the tight aisles of clothing.

Theo simply meandered through the aisles, his fingers unstoppable as they brushed against the various fabrics until he found something that spoke to him. Although he had nothing really in mind, the decision of stopping into the shop was due to his newfound desire to revitalize his wardrobe. After spending so much time in the same size since his college days, fraternity gear, khaki shorts, and Aeropostale had been all he had needed for the past few years. But as he found himself beginning to grow out of them due to the increased muscle mass occurring due to his physically-demanding job, Theo figured this would be the best way to freshen up his style without needing to pay hundreds of dollars.

Additionally, the man couldn’t deny that he was on a mission to find things that could potentially spice things up with Peter, his boyfriend of 5 years. Back in college, the duo had seemed like a couple pulled straight out of a fairy tale (or the fantasies of gay men everywhere) – a frat bro who fell in love with a meek, average-looking Engineering nerd. They had first met when Theo needed tutoring help with his courses, but those late-night study sessions soon divulged into drunken hangouts turned makeout sessions.

That time in their lives had been the source of many eventful and exciting days (and nights) together, but as the time since those days grew, the spontaneous and exciting days disappeared and were replaced with a comfortable routine. Part of this was due to their intense jobs, with Theo climbing the retail ladder slowly but surely as Peter was working every weekday at an engineering firm – leaving them both utterly exhausted by the time they got home to do anything more than cook dinner and watch TV together. But despite the sad state of their relationship currently, Theo wasn’t willing to give up just yet.

So as he browsed the shop, the man’s eyes darted around as he aimed to find any sort of attire that could potentially turn his boyfriend on and spice things in the bedroom via some roleplay. He had known that Peter had a bit of a thing for leather, so as his eyes landed on a sleek leather jacket, Theo thought that he had landed on the jackpot. He pulled it off the rack and admired it, noticing how the smooth, cool material was a stark contrast to his rough, calloused hands. "This could definitely work," he thought, slipping it on and feeling an immediate boost in confidence.

He continued to sift through the racks, picking out a few more pieces that caught his eye and made his horny mind imagine scenarios – a handmade pair of denim booty shorts, a vintage band t-shirt, and a chunky knitted sweater. As he looked at the items in his arms, he instantly imagined the scenarios required for him to wear such items: a classic stripper outfit that would work with his mesh neon crop top from one of their Pride festival forrays, a shirt to go with the leather jacket and create a domineering “daddy” image, and something that could go with his reading glasses and give his boyfriend another “nerd” to mess around with respectively.

With his arms full of potential new outfits, Theo headed to the dressing room. He closed the door behind him, the tiny space feeling even smaller with the pile of clothes he had accumulated. Upon taking off the leather jacket and setting it with the other clothes, the man finally began to undress down to his underwear. For a moment, Theo simply stared at his reflection – taking into account his current physique. Although his physique wasn’t as well-sculpted due to his intense days of working out and dieting back in college, it was clear that the man was still in solid shape. His gym regime had grown a bit lax due to his aforementioned tiredness from work, but luckily his job kept him quite active from lifting heavy boxes and putting items on shelves day in and day out. So even with the nagging restlessness and guilt that gnawed at him, the man wasn’t mad at all at what he saw in the mirror.

As he tried on the different items, Theo’s excitement only grew as he saw how well the items fit him. Although he had already tried on the jacket prior to arriving in the dressing room, he did it again after putting on the vintage band t-shirt, lifting up his arms and flexing to watch the thick leather curve around his solid biceps. Oh yeah, this would be great for Peter, he thought to himself, smirking as he felt a sense of excitement. This seemed like the right decision – something that would finally reignite the spark that life had dimmed between himself and his boyfriend.

With his boyfriend in mind and his excitement continuing to grow, Theo couldn’t resist pulling out his phone and taking a few pictures of himself in the mirror. He knew that Peter would love it, so why not give him a tease of what he had planned for him?

"Hey babe, what do you think?" Theo typed before attaching the photos. Right before he pressed on the send button, he hesitated for a moment before deciding to add something a bit more playful. “Thinking of wearing this tonight ;)”

He hit send and while waiting for a response, opted to continue trying on the rest of the clothes. A few minutes later while he was trying on the chunky knitted sweater, his phone buzzed. In an instant, Theo's heart skipped a beat, causing him to rush to his device to see his partner’s response. But as he clicked on the message and began to read it, his excitement quickly deflated.

"Looks good. Are you coming home soon with our dinner?"

Theo sighed, feeling a wave of frustration wash over him. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, his annoyance evident in his furrowed brow and stern expression. "That’s it? That’s all he had to say?!" he muttered to himself. He had hoped for something more: a flirty response or compliment… ANYTHING that would show Peter’s interest and continued attraction to him.

With his excitement deflated, Theo glumly began to undress and put his original clothes back on. What was the point in continuing when he couldn’t get his boyfriend to show any sort of interest? As he stuffed the clothing back onto their hangers and left them in the dressing room, the melancholic man was on the verge of tears while he made his way towards the entrance of the shop. He felt like an idiot for trying to spice things up just for his boyfriend to coldly reject his advances. In his mind,  the desperate man found himself wishing and praying endlessly to have that spark return to their relationship. All he wanted was a boyfriend that thirsted for him and made an effort. Was that really too much to ask?

With his mind set towards making a beeline towards the front door, Theo turned partially to the side before beginning to shimmy down the aisles – altering his stance to prevent his broad shoulders from ending up at odds with the congested aisles of clothing. Despite this, his fingers still once again began to graze against the fabric of countless outfits. As he did this, the man was suddenly feeling transfixed by the different consistencies that brushed against his fingertips – from the scratchy texture of old polo shirts to satin dress shirts.

But as the door was mere feet away, the retail employee stopped dead in his tracks as a sudden static shock hit his finger and caused his entire body to tingle. Upon gasping and shaking his hand in hopes of ridding it of its numb tingles, Theo turned in order to figure out what it was that shocked him. As his eyes lingered on the clothes rack and watched one article of clothing swaying back and forth on its hanger, he quickly pushed the other clothes to the side to give it a good inspection.

To Theo’s amusement, the item that awaited him was not one of significant monetary or aesthetic value – it was simply a used white undershirt. The concept of being shocked by the standard cotton fabric was quite amusing to the man, which caused him to reach out and begin to touch the fabric. But as soon as his fingers fully grasped onto the article of clothing, a sudden tingle coursed through his body. He suddenly froze, both hands still touching the fabric. Then, out of nowhere, a deep, resonant voice whispered in his ear.

“Buy the shirt, Theo. It will feel so good to wear it.”

Instantly, the man turned around wondering if someone was playing some bizarre joke on him. Unlike his own Midwestern accent, the voice that spoke to him seemed vastly different – sounding almost Middle-Eastern. Yet as he looked around for the culprit, he found himself alone in the cramped aisle. The voice had been so clear, so intense that it felt like it was whispered directly into his ear like a secret. Unsurprisingly, Theo hesitated for a moment, wondering if he was going crazy from a long day at work and just imagining things.

Theo’s hand trembled slightly as he lifted the shirt off the hook and continued to touch it. The fabric felt warm and inviting, almost as if it was calling out to him. He glanced around once more, his mind racing with questions. Was he going crazy? Was the voice real? If it was, why did it want him to buy it so badly?

Against his better judgment, Theo looked at the tag on the collar. Size XL, the same size he wore in all of his clothes. His fingers moved down the shirt until they found the price tag hanging – which revealed a price of only $3. Feeling oddly intrigued by the item, Theo draped the undershirt over his arm and walked to the checkout counter. He could feel the weight of the mysterious voice's command with every step.

As the cashier rang up the purchase, Theo’s mind buzzed with anticipation and a hint of fear. He had no idea what awaited him (if anything) once he put on the shirt, but something deep inside urged him to obey the voice's words. Upon handing over $3 and some change, the man reasoned that it was a worthy purchase no matter what. Even if he had simply imagined a voice and the shirt was nothing more than a piece of fabric, the item would still find a use for the man due to his innate desires to get back into the gym. With a second-hand shirt like this, he could feel no shame drenching it in immense levels of sweat as it found a new purpose.

Once he was handed a receipt, the man gave a slight nod before exiting the thrift shop. With each step Theo made towards his car, he found himself slowly being broken out of the intense spell that clouded his mind. Although he still had an innate desire to wear the shirt gnawing deep within him, the man’s slight germaphobia returned to remind him of the dangers of wearing second-hand attire. There could be countless types of bacteria or scents associated with the item, so as he headed towards the restaurant to pick up food, he reasoned the best way to quell his concerns was to put it in the laundry first. Then, once it was perfectly clean and ready to be worn, he’d put it on and figure out what would happen once it was finally on his muscular physique…

* * * * *

Despite being a highly affectionate and needy individual, Peter Thompson was relieved to wake up alone on Saturday morning. As he got up and made his way into the bathroom to relieve himself, the nerdy man yawned and thought mournfully about the previous night’s events. The status of his relationship with his boyfriend Theo had been feeling increasingly rocky over the past few months, but nothing compared to the explosive argument that occurred that evening. Upon arriving home with the couple’s food in hand (along with a small bag from a nearby thrift shop), Theo’s eyes stared daggers into Peter’s soul as they sat at the table across from each other in silence. It was clear that the nerd had done something to upset the man, but he had no idea what it could be.

Upon bringing the intense stares and wondering what he had done to upset his boyfriend, Peter sat in awe as his boyfriend instantly snapped and began complaining about their relationship. Instead of being loving and affectionate partners, the handsome muscular man coldly stated that they felt more like roommates who just happened to share a bed. Although Peter loved to view things with rose-colored glasses, he wasn’t oblivious to their evolving relationship as it became less and less sexually or emotionally intimate. He had become completely consumed by his projects at his engineering firm, which left him feeling like a shell of himself by the time he got home.

As Peter attempted to explain this away and state that was just how relationships evolve over time, Theo grew increasingly frustrated at the young man’s apparent complacency. From there, the civilized dinner devolved into a screaming match that ended with Theo and Peter both staying on opposite ends of the apartment and wondering whether this relationship was something they still wanted to fight for. Despite Peter’s apparent laissez-faire attitude, the notion of disappointing his boyfriend so severely gnawed at him and left him with a deep pit in his stomach. He felt incredibly upset and desperate to figure it out, but opted to just give them both the remainder of the night to cool down before engaging again.

Upon finishing both his trip to the bathroom and journey through the previous night’s events, Peter returned to the bedroom and checked his phone. It was there that he saw a text waiting for him from his boyfriend.

Theo: Went into work early, needed more time apart. Let’s talk once I’m home. Love you

Instantly, Peter’s heart broke as he read the last part of the man’s message – mourning for the usual blue heart emoji that was intentionally kept from signing off the text. It hurt him intensely to imagine the fallout of their relationship ending, wondering how living together for the remainder of the lease would work and how their shared friend group would be shattered as the friends were undoubtedly forced to choose sides. It was too much to think about, so he opted to find something to distract himself.

As he looked at some of the couples’ clothes strewn across the floor, the concept of doing some laundry sounded like a good way to take his mind off of things. He could start a load before going to make some breakfast, then switch from the washer and dryer as he opted to clean more of the apartment to try and forget about the soul-crushing fight.

He grabbed onto the various articles of clothing and began to make his way towards the bathroom, stopping himself from throwing the items into the laundry basket upon seeing Theo’s plastic bag from the previous night resting atop of the other clothes already there. Using one arm to grab the bag out, Peter then used the other to dump the other clothes into the basket. As he used both hands to finally pull open the bag, the man was confused to find that his boyfriend’s thrifting haul was solely composed of a used white undershirt.

He reached down to pull it out of the bag, nearly losing control as his fingers grazed against the fabric and caused a full-body chill to travel down his spine. Upon rolling his shoulders and attempting to get ahold of himself, Peter then reached in and pulled the item out and watched the loose bag hover down to the floor.

For a moment, the man simply observed the piece of clothing – noticing its slightly worn quality but finding no noticeable stains or tears. Overall, it looked like a normal piece of clothing – at least it did until the Middle Eastern voice began to speak to him.

“Yes, that’s right, Peter. It feels good, doesn’t it? Put it on.”

As the deep husky accented voice echoed through his mind, Peter froze as his heart began to race. He looked around the bathroom, half expecting to see someone standing there but finding himself completely alone. While Peter gasped and attempted to compose himself, the voice persisted as it spoke incredibly calm yet commanding.

“Peter, put it on. You must!”

Peter shook his head, trying to clear the fog of confusion that plagued his mind. "What’s going on? Who are you?" he whispered, feeling somewhat foolish for talking to what seemed like thin air.

"My name is Fadelellah," the voice replied. "I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll come right out with it. I’m dead – I’ve been dead since 1994. For decades, I have been trapped in this shirt. Now please, put on the shirt and help me. I’m begging you!”

Peter hesitated, his rational mind at war with his innate curiosity about this bizarre trick being plagued on him. This had to be some kind of joke, it was either Theo playing some sort of trick on him or he was on the verge of a mental breakdown in the aftermath of their fight. Yet no matter how desperate he was to find a logical reason behind the mysterious voice, he had no way of explaining away how realistic the voice sounded to him. Not only did it sound so real, but the young man couldn’t help but notice the tone of desperation that coated the ominous words.

"Why should I? I have no idea who you are! Hell, I don’t even know if this is real or I’m just having a goddamn breakdown" Peter exclaimed, his voice trembling.

“Believe me Peter, I’m completely real,” Fadelellah said, “I’ve been replaying my death on a loop for decades, waiting for an opportunity for a second chance. I think that could be you…”

In response, a shiver coursed down the man’s spine as he tried to imagine such a cruel fate – not only trapped as an inanimate object but forced to recall his final moments nonstop. “But, why do you think I’m the one who can help you? How am I supposed to help?”

“I’ve been waiting for someone like you – someone who struggles with their life and wishes for something better. What if I told you that I could fix all of that? All you need to do is let me share a body with you and we’ll be unstoppable. All you have to do is put the shirt on.”

For a moment Peter hesitated, unwilling to make a decision as he attempted to comprehend what was being said to him. This random man wanted to share his body with him? That sounded like a horrible idea. Plus, how was he supposed to trust that this wasn’t some trick that would cause him to become a passenger of his own body? Hell, he couldn’t help but think about Theo as well – wondering about how a relationship would work with him having to deal with a boyfriend that had two souls sharing control. What if this Fadelellah guy was straight and tried to break him up with Theo?

As if the spirit was reading his thoughts, the disembodied voice spoke once more in hopes of squashing his fears. “Do not worry my friend, I know it sounds scary, but I promise it will be nice for the both of us. You know, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I overheard the argument you and Theo had last night. What if I told you I could fix that? When Theo first touched me in the thrift shop, I was able to tap in and learn everything about him. With my assistance, we could fix your relationship and make it so neither of you are ever unhappy again. Peter, I’m more than willing to do all of that to pay you back for helping me… all you have to do to make that happen is put the shirt on…”

Against his better judgment, Peter instantly found himself tearing off his own shirt. Although he still didn’t believe that this was really happening, there was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to fix things with Theo. He loved that man more than anything in the world, so if this random spirit said he could fix their relationship, he was more than willing to give it a shot!

As he slipped the undershirt over his head, Peter was stunned by how it was cool to the touch. Given his bigger status as a pudgier nerdy type, the fabric wasn’t baggy in the slightest – instead instantly grazing along his skin as he pulled it further down his body. By the time the shirt was fully covered over his torso, the man’s spine felt completely numb from the intensity of the cold shivers that throbbed.

After this sensation dissipated though, the man waited in hopes of Fadelellah’s voice returning and helping him fix his relationship. Yet for what felt like an eternity – nothing happened. Just as he was about to abandon hope and consider checking himself into a psychiatric facility, a warm sensation suddenly invaded his body. The sensation localized in his chest as it then began to radiate outwards towards his limbs and head.

"Thank you, Peter," Fadelellah's voice said, his desperate and somber tone now replaced with one of pure elation. "Now, I can begin to live again!"

Peter's heart pounded in his chest as the warm sensation intensified, transforming into a tingling that spread to every corner of his body. He felt like he was on the verge of having a heart attack, which caused him to look down in horror. Upon doing so, the man watched as something unbelievable happened – weight began to melt off of his frame. By the second, pieces of flab were evaporating from his form to remove his slightly pudgy belly and the modest flab that softly filled out his average frame.

Despite loving the concept of losing weight, the shock of transforming caused the man to freak out. As a result, the man’s hands went haywire as they tried to move towards the bottom of the shirt and pull it off. Yet although he could move his hands around, it felt like there was an invisible block preventing him from grabbing or touching the shirt.

Instantly, panic set in as he realized he was already losing total control of his body.

"What are you doing to me? Why can’t I take the shirt off?! Please, I changed my mind. I don't want this!" Peter cried out, his voice echoing through the walls of the couple’s average-sized bathroom.

"Do not worry, Peter," Fadelellah's voice replied, his tone coming across soothing like a concerned parent comforting their child. "This was just a precaution while our souls merged. Believe me, this is a gift. Embrace it. You’ll soon realize how much you’ll enjoy the change."

Perfectly timed, Fadelellah’s words led into the next stage of the man’s transformation. Peter’s body began to behave like a balloon as his newly frail frame began to slowly inflate. Muscles swelled beneath the skin, causing his arms and chest to quickly begin to thicken with newfound strength. As he looked down in disbelief, the man observed how a solid pair of pecs now jutted out against the tight undershirt while his biceps bulged against his widening obliques. The man’s jaw dropped as he watched the emergence of cobblestone abs emerge against the tight fabric of his shirt. It was absolutely insane to believe that he was transforming into a muscular man whose physique rivaled that of his boyfriend’s.

In response, Fadelellah let out a deep chuckle as he could feel his shared body’s face contort. "See? Isn't this better?" he cooed. "You are strong and that’s just the start. By the time we’re done combining, you’re going to be so handsome you won’t be afraid to look in the mirror. Now, take a moment to explore those new muscles of yours."

Once again, Peter found his body suddenly betraying him as his arms began to obey Fadelellah’s order. So despite wanting so badly to use those hands to pull up on his shirt and get a reprieve from the shirt’s influence, his hands instead began to feel up on his new musculature. As such, his senses allowed him to feel the well-defined ridges of his cobblestone abdominal muscles – a surprisingly pleasurable shiver coursing through his body as he compared that sensation to the pitiful pudge that his fingers usually grazed.

Despite his initial terror wanting him to resist the changes, Fadelellah’s words echoing through his brain caused Peter to re-evaluate his position. Was there really a problem here? He was becoming absolutely massive with muscles he could only dream of having! Opting to actually give these changes a shot, he decided to take control of his hands to finally marvel at his transformation thus far. He felt powerful for the first time in his life, no doubt due to his body now suddenly brimming with intense energy and vitality. He looked down at his new physique, awkwardly lifting up his arm and trying to tense the muscle. In response to finally getting it right, the man looked gobsmacked by the tense muscle that bulged to a size of a softball.

This initial sight was instantly intoxicating to the man, which caused him to explore more of his increased physique. He struggled for a moment but eventually was able to pop his pecs, stifling a chuckle as he bounced between each pectoral and established a rhythm. His hands wandered down the strip of sculpted abdominal muscles for a moment before reaching behind to his derriere. As the bottom in the relationship, Peter was curious to see how his ass fared during the changes. Upon realizing the globe-like shape of each plump yet firm ass cheek, the man’s boner (which had silently lengthened to become nearly 8 inches) rushed from a semi to a fully erect one while envisioning all of the fun he could have with Theo.

As he continued to look down at himself though, Peter soon came to realize that his body was still transforming. Instead of his pasty white complexion, his skin was quickly darkening to a more tanned hue. Initially this seemed to not be a problem, but as the color began to shift to a more olive-like shade, alarm bells began to ring as he realized that he wasn’t just getting tan… he was changing ethnicities.

“Wha- what’s happening to me?” Peter cried out, his eyes bulging out as he heard his voice beginning to deepen. “Oh– my v-voice,” he continued, the accent sounding oddly familiar for a moment until he realized why they sounded familiar – it was the same voice coming out of his mouth that he heard Fadelellah speaking in his mind.

“Do not worry,” Fadelellah began, his voice returning to his more condescending coddling tone. “The fates have just decided that we are meant to become Middle-Eastern like I once was. It will be great though, you’ll see! Since we’re together as one in this body, you’ll be able to read the Qur’an and speak Arabic like a pro. I can’t wait to share that with you!”

Peter's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He wanted to resist, to fight back against what was happening to him, but the allure of his new body and the perks it provided was overwhelming. He could feel Fadelellah's presence growing stronger, his control slipping away the more his body molded to accommodate its newest inhabitant.

As a tingle began to emerge across his entire head, Peter instantly pulled his head up to direct his attention to the bathroom mirror. Upon doing so, the man was left with no other choice but to watch as his facial features began to shift. In addition to taking on a more angular, chiseled appearance. He watched in awe as his eye shape altered – shifting from a more wide, bug-eyed appearance as the eyes sunk into a more rectangular-shaped socket. For years the man had been ridiculed for his prominent nose, but that soon became a thing of the past as it shrank and straightened to gain a more masculine appearance.

Peter watched in awe as his jawline began to crack and contort away from its former round shape – giving way to stubble that started to push out and cover his altered cheeks. But rather than the average light brown hair that resided on his head, this hair was a stark jet black that helped frame his cheeks and lips as a pencil-thin mustache wrapped around his plump lips. Once this facial hair traversed up into his sideburns, it caused a domino-like effect as every hair on his scalp then slowly shifted to match the same shade that adorned his cheeks and eyebrows until his transformation into a Middle-Eastern man was complete.

With the gravity of the changes fully hitting Peter, the man was growing incredibly desperate and scared. Although the visage that he now sported was absolutely an improvement over his former one, it was the biggest reminder of the fact that every morsel of his past self had been altered and erased. At this point, it was beginning to feel more like Fadelellah’s body rather than a shared one!

“Please, I don’t like this,” Peter begged, his voice coming out a meek whimper that would have barely registered had Fadelellah not begun sharing the same brain. “I don’t want to lose myself, this isn’t me!”

In response, a devious chuckle came from Fadelellah as he revealed his true intention. “Exactly Peter, this isn’t you… not anymore,” he said, his voice now beginning to sound relatively confident and cocky. “Instead, you’ll still be here, just tucked deep down within me. Your body was just the base I needed to come back and get a second chance. But don’t beat yourself up about it, just find comfort in the fact that I’ve turned you into something greater than you could possibly imagine.”

Despite his fear and desperation about his situation, Peter found his resolve wavering more by the second. The idea of his body being able to provide for Theo, to be the strong, confident partner Peter had always wanted to be, was tempting – even if it meant he wasn’t in control anymore. Maybe this was a chance for a new beginning, a way to reignite the spark in their relationship. It was clear that he was on the verge of destroying the relationship as it currently stood, so maybe it was better if someone else got to fix his mistakes…

"Promise me," Peter said, his voice now barely audible as he receded further within himself. "Promise me you'll take care of him."

“Of course,” Fadelellah replied. “Please do not worry, I will take care of both your body and Theo. Every day, I will cherish him like you once did. I know how important he is to you, so it’s the least I can do to repay you. Now, it’s time to let go Peter, I’m finally ready to live again.”

With one final deep breath, Peter obeyed the man’s words and surrendered. He felt himself fading, his consciousness slipping away as Fadelellah's presence filled the void. The last thing he heard was the man’s voice, being gentle and reassuring as he led his savior into a peaceful slumber.

As Peter's mind dissolved into darkness, Fadelellah gained complete control of a human body for the first time in 30 years. For several minutes the man stretched, relishing the concept of having limbs and a human body again after finally escaping his fabric prison. Despite being away from humanity for such a long time, he was able to peel his shirt off and navigate his new physique with no problem. With a smile on his face, Fadelellah lifted up his arm and flashed a wide smile.

“Damn, it is great to be alive again,” Fadelellah said to himself. “That went much easier than I expected, I almost feel bad for the dude. But hey, he chose this and I’m certainly not wishing to go back to being a shitty shirt!” the man chuckled to himself.

As he moved his hands down to his crotch, Fadelellah smirked as he tapped into Peter’s memories and was able to finally visualize the man who was almost his host body. Although Theo’s muscular and handsome body would have meant a quicker transition for the man to take over, the concept of inheriting a boyfriend to help welcome him back into the land of the living and adapt to modern-day living was a much more desirable outcome. Surely with a body like this replacing Peter, Fadelellah was sure that his new boyfriend wasn’t going to resist such a change.

With his mind continuing to envision Theo and all of the fun they’d have together, Fadelellah slipped his hand beneath his shorts and prepared to do something he’d been dreaming about for decades…

* * * * *

It had been three months since the fateful night in which Theo and his boyfriend had gotten into a huge fight, which had led to many unintended yet welcomed changes for the couple. Of course, Theo was initially hoping that their argument would lead to Peter just starting to put more effort into being romantic… so one could imagine his excitement when he came home from work the next day to find a candle-lit dinner awaiting him. However, that excitement turned to full-blown confusion when he found a random well-dressed Middle-Eastern man waiting for him instead of his dorky Caucasian boyfriend.

On paper, it certainly would have sounded ludicrous to believe that a simple used undershirt would transform someone not only in terms of physique but also ethnicity. However, given the fact that Theo himself knew about the mystical properties of the shirt due to the whispers that encouraged him to buy the item and try it on, it didn’t seem far-fetched at all.

Despite this, it was still a bit awkward and uncomfortable initially for Theo to find himself suddenly sharing a bed and apartment with a total stranger. But as time went on and the man realized how Fadelellah was able to instantly do things the way that Theo liked (ranging from the way he liked his food cooked to how sex in the bedroom went), this awkwardness dissipated quickly.

When it came to adapting to his new relationship, the only thing that kept Theo up at night was the knowledge that Peter had ultimately sacrificed his body to fix things in their relationship. It occasionally kept him up at night, wondering if Peter was still there in his former body deep down getting to see and realize just how happy he was. He certainly hoped that it was possible, as the concept of his former boyfriend being completely unaware of how things are going and forever thinking that Theo hated him was something that would forever haunt him. Fadelellah promised that Peter was down there deep down and able to see and feel all of the things he did, but Theo often wondered if that was just something that his new boyfriend told him to provide some sense of comfort.

Regardless of his concerns about Peter, Theo was relieved to find how great life was like now that Fadelellah was around. It was quite humorous at first helping teach the man how technology and society as a whole had progressed since his initial death in the ‘90s. Cell phones often transfixed the man, causing him to spend hours in awe learning about how he was able to watch movies, play games, and listen to music all from a small device in his hands.

Initially, a big question mark emerged for both men in terms of how they would be able to explain how a normal nerdy engineer was magically replaced by a Middle-Eastern hunk. However, the universe seemed to help remedy that problem for them as over the course of a week, reality slowly altered to where Peter was fully erased from reality and Fadelellah was put in his place.

Given the fact that the man was still struggling to adapt to his life in the modern era, his position as an engineer was certainly not befitting the new many anymore. As a result, the memories of all of Peter’s friends, family, and co-workers all altered to where Fadelellah was adopted by Peter’s parents and he went to college in hopes of getting a business degree. It was at college where Fadelellah and Theo first met – although the couple’s original meeting of tutoring sessions was now changed to both of them pledging for the school’s fraternity and bonding over the intense hazing process.

After graduating college, Fadelellah’s new career ultimately revealed itself to be as a personal trainer for a nearby gym. In time, the man had aspirations of opening his own gym, but until he had accumulated enough money to afford that along with finally adapting to life in 2025, he was happy to just stay where he currently was.

This career also turned out to become beneficial to Theo as well – as he was able to get a discounted membership due to his boyfriend’s employment. In addition, the couple would often spend hours in the gym working out together after Fadelellah finished his sessions for the day. It was something that Theo hadn’t initially expected to desire as much as he did. He remembered always inviting Peter to come to the gym with him, but he didn’t think it was a big deal when his boyfriend at the time rejected the offer to instead work on homework or any of the projects at his job. Yet now that he had Fadelellah with him to do these workouts with, he realized just how much he loved it (not only the workouts themselves but the flirtatious things Fadelellah did throughout like flaunting his abs or slapping Theo’s ass between sets). Consequently, that often led to the couple having some intense fun in the locker room after hours.

Given their kinky and happy lives together, it wasn’t a surprise for either man to admit just how much they appreciated Peter’s sacrifice. It was truly a selfless thing for him to do, and for that both men would be forever grateful. Yet despite feeling forever indebted to the man for what he did, neither Theo or Fadelellah opted to think much about the other man. Instead, they were too focused on living their lives to the fullest and enjoying each other’s company… especially in the bedroom!

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[trishmishtree]

First sewing project of 2025 completed!

It's a Vicwardian shirtdress that kind of straddles the lines between historybounding and historical costuming and cosplay.

See, I have made 3-4 blouses/shirtwaists in this style now, and the most irritating thing about them is that they gradually get more and more untucked throughout the day until I'm left with a muffin top spilling over my skirts. So I figured, why not make one that's the bodice of a dress? That way, I can anchor the blouse part down to the waistband so it can't ride up and come untucked, and I can control how much it's allowed to blouse and keep it that way 24/7 since it's stitched down.

^See? Now I won't have to constantly adjust and re-adjust the gathering and pleating into the waistband or tug my shirttails down because I can feel the back of the blouse ballooning out again.

(Almost forgot to mention: yes, the skirt has giant Victorian-style pockets in the side seams. The dress was 99% hand sewn, mostly because I was working on it while out of town without access to my machine, but also because when I got home and tried to attach a facing to the pockets, my machine decided 3 layers of this shirting-weight cotton twill fabric was too much to handle and broke down. So thanks for that, pockets. Now I have to find a repair shop or replacement machine.)

And bonus: the skirt can be worn as is, or it can function as a petticoat under a separate skirt I can wear over the dress. If I make a floor-length walking skirt to wear over this shirtdress, and maybe a waistcoat and/or an Eton jacket, then I'll have a convincing enough 1890s-1900s ensemble for historical costuming purposes.

Oh, and in case you can't tell, the bodice design with the diagonal pintucks in the yoke is inspired by the outfit that Elphaba wears in her "The Wizard and I" sequence from the new movie. She wears this gauzy, crinkle chiffon-looking blouse under a black jumper dress, and the visible parts of the blouse look like they're bias cut, with some kind of pintucked or micro-pleated texture.

I basically spent the last month and change drooling over the costuming and wanting Elphaba's entire wardrobe. I don't think I'll be accurately recreating any of her actual costumes, but I like to think that my new shirtdress *could* potentially be something she'd wear.

Oh, and here's a detail of the lower sleeves on my dress. Elphaba's usually wearing all black, so the movie costumers played a lot with the texture of the fabrics on her clothing. They were inspired by mushrooms and other earthy textures, so her dresses have a more organic look than what I have going on here. I didn't have enough fabric to play around with, so I figured I'd just give honeycomb smocking a try, and I'm shocked at how well these sleeves preserve body heat in the winter.

Now all I need to do is make her hat and maybe sew a cloth facemask from green fabric and my 2025 office-appropriate Halloween costume will be good to go.

EDIT: link to the pattern I made for this dress here

And here's the dress worn under the corresponding skirt and waistcoat, and Eton jacket.

[tgirlwithreverb]

I saw that post about what to do if you're homeless again (the one that starts by telling you to spend all of your money on motel rooms lmao) anyway, here's a few thoughts, specifically for trans girls, cuz I don't really care otherwise tbh:

1) plan ahead, most trans girls are in precarious housing situations, you will have a much easier time when it falls apart if you already have a pack with most of the gear you need in it. Also, if you find yourself in a situation where you cant make rent, dont pay part of it, spend that money on gear, pocket the rest and leave, youll have a much nicer time. Look up your local eviction laws, you have plenty of time. (Gear list at the end)

2) travel! If you're in Arizona in May, leave. it's about to be hot as hell. If you're in Michigan in October, leave. It's about to be cold as hell. If you're in a big city, leave. It's way easier to be homeless pretty much anywhere else. Amtrak is cheaper and more comfortable than greyhound, hitchhiking is free and easy, if you're alone it's not that much slower than the previous two, and it's more fun, and sometimes people buy you food or whatever or give you money. I promise it's not scary and you're entirely capable of doing it, no matter who you are. 95+% of people who will pick you up are very nice. All you have to do is take the bus out of town, as far down the highway you can, to an exit with a truck stop if possible, then just stand on the side of the road with your thumb out until someone picks you up. You can stand at the bottom of the ramp(on the highway) near where the merge lane ends or at the top of the ramp(where there's usually a traffic light), the former is more likely to lead to cop interactions but will maybe get you a ride faster, check on hitchwiki for how the cops are in the area. don't be afraid to take a commuter bus or Amtrak to get out of a shitty cop area

3) skip shelters if you can (they are very occasionally a decent place to get stuff from) and encampments, good places to sleep include the trees near railroad tracks or highways, wooded areas behind shopping centers, sections of parks without paths, overgrown empty lots. Hang a tarp above you if there's an appreciable chance of rain, there's tons of YouTube tutorials on how to do this, maybe I'll make a post about what I usually do some day. There are many habits more fun than motel rooms, save your money for them lmao.

4) get on food stamps. This is easier in some places than others, but it makes the whole thing a lot easier. Just tell them you're homeless, if they don't give you a card the same day, you can probably ask to pick it up from that office, alternatively some drop in centers/day shelters can receive mail for you, or you can have it sent to general delivery(USPS service, look it up)

7) libraries are great for charging your phone and using wifi, but also keep an eye out, plenty of random outlets on the outsides of buildings are also powered

5) dumpster. sidewalk trash cans, Aldi, Einstein's, trader Joe's, pizza places, etc. You need to develop a bit of a sense for it but it's an easy way to get cooked food or travelling food or expensive food without spending resources. Also it's fun.

6) water is free, go into the bathroom of any gas station or grocery store in America(offer not valid in most big cities or on the west coast, but in that case just go to the library) and fill up your water bottle

8) hygiene notes: truckers get free showers from chain truck stops(loves, pilot/flying j) go there and ask them. convenient if you're hitchhiking, also you don't need to shower 3 times a day, really, you'll survive. Ditto with deodorant. Take care of your teeth though. Take your socks off every. day. Change them consistently. Safety razors give a good shave, work well without adequate water pressure, and the replacement blades are very stealable, they're kind of heavy though. Walmart makes these electric razors for women that take AA batteries and are pretty light but give a worse shave, also they kinda go through batteries, pick whatever works for you(cartridge razors suck)

9) traveling food notes: peanut butter is great, tortillas and bagels travel pretty well, tuna packets are pretty good protein for traveling(the ones with rice and beans or whatever are nice since theyre often the same price as the regular), condiment packets are free, hot sauce makes everything better, and mayo goes well with tuna and has a bunch of calories in it, salad dressing packets are free from truck stops and work well turning the Walmart shredded vegetable packages (labeled for making into slaw, next to the bagged salads) into a salad with real vegetables(not iceberg lettuce) in it or mixing in with tuna packets for even more calories than mayo

Gear world:

Necessary items(in order of importance): a gallon of water carrying capacity(an Arizona jug or other twist top jug is conventional, but a bladder+arizona bottles also works), a tarp(larger than 6'x9', not brightly colored), a hank of parachord, a sleeping bag (20° rated, synthetic insulation), a backpack with a padded hip belt(at least 50L, no more than 75), rain gear(a rain poncho might cover your pack too, a rain jacket can help with wind when its cold, a trash bag inside or outside your pack can keep it dry, a plan to watch the weather and not get caught also works), a z-fold foam sleeping pad, three pairs of socks, two pairs of underwear (at least one pair of boxer breifs strongly recommended if you arent incredibly skinny), a decent pair of shoes with good arch support, a functional jacket(skip if you got a rain jacket before), a base layer(wool or poly, absolutely no cotton)

Convenient items: a sleeping bag liner(cotton free, keeps you warm in winter and cool in summer), gallon zip locks to pack your stuff in(helps keep it dry and organized), no more than one change of clothes(as light as possible), a multi-tool(can opener, pliers, wire cutter), lighter(burning rope ends etc), spoon, floss and needles for patching

[aryadelvich]

Studying with Luigi

Here’s a story from this request

If you’re looking for more of my work here’s Updated Masterlist

Summary : Luigi has a secret crush on you. Both of you attending the same university. When you ask him for help with math, what starts as a simple study session quickly gets spicy !!

Warning : explicite content 🔞🔞

I don’t know why this song feels like Luigi in college.

Luigi stood in the university hall, leaning casually against a wall as his friends joked around. Though he appeared to be listening, his focus shifted the moment he saw you descending the staircase.

His gaze lingered longer than it should have, tracing the determined set of your jaw and the way you clutched a paper tightly in one hand. There was something different about you today—your usual cheerful demeanor had been replaced by a tense, distracted air.

Then your eyes met his.

Caught off guard, Luigi looked away quickly, his pulse quickening.

"Oh, look. It's Y/N," one of his friends said with a teasing grin, just loud enough for you to hear.

As if on cue, the group turned to look at you. Luigi let out a quiet sigh, his jaw tightening. He had noticed you from the very first day of class but hadn't said anything to his friends. And now, they were practically gawking.

You stopped mid-step, offering the group a polite smile. "Hi, guys."

Your gaze flickered briefly to Luigi, and this time, you greeted him with a smile that held just the faintest edge of teasing.

"Hi, Luigi," you said, your tone light.

His throat tightened, and his response came out awkwardly, barely audible. "H-hi Y/n"

You stepped closer, holding out the paper in your hand. "I need help with applied mathematics. You're taking it as a minor, right? And from what I hear, you're pretty good at it."

"Oh... yeah," Luigi stammered, unprepared for your directness.

Before he could offer a proper response, one of his friends cut in, raising a hand dramatically. "I can help you too, Y/N!"

"Yeah, me too," another added, clearly trying to impress you.

Luigi shot them both an annoyed glance. "Back off," he muttered, though his tone remained light enough to pass as joking.

You raised an eyebrow, amusement flashing in your eyes. “I’m gonna choose whoever scored the highest on the last test gets to tutor me."

The group fell into a brief silence, and then the scores started coming in.

"71."

"82."

"89."

"80."

Finally, Luigi spoke, his voice calm and steady. "95."

Your lips curved into a grin. "Well, looks like we have a winner. Luigi, you're my tutor."

The subtle pride in his expression didn't escape you, though he tried to play it cool.

"How about tomorrow at the library?" he offered.

You shook your head. "I need to study tonight—my retake is the day after tomorrow. Your place or mine?"

Luigi froze, your words echoing in his mind. Around him, his friends erupted into laughter, elbowing each other and exchanging smirks.

"M-my room... if that's okay with you," he managed, his voice suddenly tight.

"Perfect," you said with an easy smile. "I'll see you after class, then."

As you turned and walked off, Luigi stared after you, his thoughts racing.

"Dude, did you hear that? She literally said, 'Your place or mine.' That's your chance !" one of his friends teased, slapping him on the shoulder.

Luigi shoots them a sharp look. "Shut up. She just needs help, that's all."

"Sure, sure," another friend says, smirking knowingly.

But Luigi doesn't respond. He's too preoccupied with the thought of spending time with you alone. Ever since you entered his life, you've had a way of unsettling the calm, logical order he's used to.

[7 PM]

Luigi paced nervously in his room, adjusting the books and papers on his desk for what felt like the hundredth time. He smoothed the creases in his shirt, glanced at the clock, and took a steadying breath.

A soft knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He opened it to find you standing there, arms full of notes, a faint smile on your lips.

"Ready for an intense night of applied math?" you joke.

He steps aside to let you in, trying to mask his nervousness. "I hope you're prepared to work hard because I'm a tough teacher," he quips.

You laugh as you take a seat at his desk, spreading out your notes. Luigi watches you discreetly, wondering why your presence alone is enough to make his heart race. He pulled up a chair beside you. He sits next to you and opens a notebook filled with neatly organized notes. His subtle cologne lingers in the air, and you can't help but notice how focused he looks when he starts explaining.

"Alright, show me what's giving you trouble," he says, gesturing to your notes.

You flip to a particularly challenging problem. "This one. Honestly, equations like this make me want to quit. Differential equations are a nightmare."

Luigi chuckles softly. "They seem daunting, but once you understand the logic, it's not so bad. Let's break it down step by step."

He explains with patience, his calm voice guiding you through each line. As complicated as the topic is, his methodical approach makes everything click.

"Oh! I get it now!" you exclaim, your face lighting up. "Why didn't anyone explain it like this before? It's so obvious!"

He grins, clearly proud of your progress. "See? I told you it wasn't as hard as it looked."

You work together for a while, your confidence growing with each solved problem. At one point, as you reach for his notebook, your fingers brush against his. The brief touch makes you pause, and you notice him quickly look away, his ears turning red.

"Sorry," you murmur, pulling your hand back.

"It's... it's nothing," he replies, his voice quiet.

The atmosphere grows heavier as you both become more aware of the growing tension between you.

At one point, your hands brushed as you both reached for the same pen. You pulled back quickly, but not before your gaze met his. A flicker of something passed between you—brief, but undeniable. Luigi looked away again, clearing his throat.

Luigi leaned closer to point out an error in your notes, his shoulder brushing against yours. You froze, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was.

"Here," he murmured, his raspy voice lower now, almost intimate.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, taking in the slight crease in his brow as he concentrated. The sharp lines of his jaw, the faint curl of his hair—it all felt too distracting.

"Got it?" he asked, his tone snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Y-yeah," you stammered, focusing back on the paper.

But even as the night continued, the unspoken tension between you lingered, growing in the quiet spaces between words. Neither of you dared to name it, but it was there—electric and impossible to ignore.

A few minutes later, after tackling another problem, Luigi leans closer to explain a particular detail. His proximity sends a wave of nervous energy through you, but you fight to keep your focus. When his elbow accidentally brushes against the side of your chest, warmth spreads through your body, pooling low in your stomach. 

"Sorry," he murmurs, his voice tinged with embarrassment. 

"It's fine..." you reply softly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

But your concentration falters as your thoughts begin to wander. Your eyes trace the lines of his hands—large and strong, with long, deft fingers. Veins crisscross his forearms, disappearing into the back of his hands, and the way he grips the pen exudes a quiet confidence. His arms are muscular, his collarbone defined, hinting at the sculpted frame beneath his shirt. 

Your gaze dips lower, involuntarily lingering at his crotch for a moment too long. You can't help yourself. Luigi has always been a contradiction: introverted and composed, yet brimming with a quiet fire, a confidence you've never fully understood but can't help wanting to unravel. 

Your eyes shift back to his face, and you find yourself studying him anew. His profile is striking—an angular jawline, lips that seem almost too perfect, and a thick beard that he likely trims every day. His brows are bold, framing a gaze that is somehow both piercing and gentle. There's an elegance to his nose and a wildness to his untamed curls, as though he doesn't care enough to control them. 

You're not sure what's happening, what this magnetic pull between you means. And judging by the faint tension in his movements, neither does he. 

"Alright," Luigi says, his voice breaking through your reverie. "I'm going to give you an exercise now. It'll cover everything we've gone over so far. You'll work on it yourself while I keep an eye on your progress." 

"Okay," you reply, nodding eagerly, grasping at the distraction. 

He steps back, giving you space to focus. For a few minutes, you immerse yourself in the task, scribbling out equations and trying to channel all your thoughts into solving the problem. But then you feel him again—standing behind you, his presence throwing your concentration into disarray. Your mind strays to places it shouldn't, thoughts you can't control flaring to life. 

Luigi crouches down beside you, his arm resting on the back of your chair. The closeness feels almost deliberate, his movements steady yet unassuming, as if he's unaware of the way he's affecting you. 

"Look here," he instructs, his voice low and firm. 

He reaches for your pen, his fingers brushing against yours once again. The contact feels electric, sending a jolt through you. He corrects the mistake with a confident stroke, then places the pen back in your hand. 

Your eyes lift to meet his, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. The air between you feels charged, heavy with something unspoken yet impossible to ignore. You both break the gaze at the same time, awkward and unsure. The tension hangs there, undeniable yet unaddressed.

He leaned closer, his curly brown hair falling into his face as he pointed at a particularly confusing problem. "Okay," he said, his voice soft but confident, "tell me what the derivative of this function is."

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. Your eyes flickered to his face—his sharp jawline, the faint stubble, the way his lips curved into that patient smile. He caught your gaze and tilted his head, his brown eyes narrowing playfully.

"Focus," he teased, tapping the page with his pen.

"I... I don't remember," you admitted, flushing slightly under his scrutiny.

"Hmm." He clicked his tongue, feigning disappointment, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that made your stomach flutter. "Wrong answer. But don't worry, we'll get there."

He scooted closer, his thigh brushing against yours, and you felt a jolt of warmth shoot through your body. His voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial. "Let's break it down step by step. Think of it like building something from scratch—you start with the foundation, right?"

You nodded, though your attention was less on the math and more on the way his hand gestured animatedly as he explained. God, why does he have to be so damn attractive? His rolled-up sleeves revealed the veins running along his forearms, and you couldn't help but imagine how they'd feel under your fingertips.

"So, if f(x) equals 2x squared plus 3x minus 4," he continued, writing out the equation neatly, "what's the first step?"

Your mind went blank again, but this time it wasn't just because of the math. The proximity was getting to you—his woodsy cologne, the warmth radiating off his body, the way his leg pressed against yours. You shifted slightly, trying to focus, but it was impossible.

"Uh..." you stalled, glancing up at him.

His lips quirked into a knowing smirk. "Wrong again," he murmured, leaning in even closer. His breath ghosted over your ear as he whispered with his raspy voice, "You're not paying attention, are you?"

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "Maybe I need a different kind of lesson," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Luigi froze for a moment, his pen hovering mid-air. Then, slowly, he set it down and turned to face you fully. His expression was unreadable, but there was a heat in his gaze that sent shivers down your spine. "Oh?" he said, his voice low and velvety. "What kind of lesson did you have in mind?"

You hesitated for only a second before reaching out and placing a hand on his chest. His heartbeat thudded beneath your palm, steady and strong. "One where you show me exactly how much you know," you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your boldness.

His lips parted in surprise, but then his eyes darkened with something primal, something hungry. He leaned in, his nose brushing against yours. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

"Positive," you breathed, closing the distance between you.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if both of you were testing the waters. But then his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and everything changed. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you dizzy, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming you in a way that made your toes curl.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were hooded, his pupils blown wide with desire. "If I'm going to teach you anything," he murmured, his voice rough, "you're going to have to follow my rules."

You nodded, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "What are they?"

A wicked grin spread across his face. "Every time you get a question wrong," he said, trailing a finger down your arm, "I stop. No touching, no kissing, nothing. Until you get it right."

"And if I get it right?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His grin widened. "Then I'll reward you appropriately."

Before you could respond, he grabbed the textbook again and flipped to a new page. "Alright," he said, his tone suddenly serious, though his eyes still burned with mischief. "What's the integral of sine x?"

Your brain scrambled to recall the formula, but all you could think about was the way his thumb was tracing circles on your thigh. "I don't care."

He shook his head, clicking his tongue again. "Nope. Wrong." And just like that, he leaned back, his hands dropping away from you.

You groaned in frustration, but there was a thrill in the challenge, a fire igniting deep within you. "Fine. Try me again."

This time, when he asked another question, you forced yourself to focus, determined not to let him win so easily. And when you finally got the answer right, the look of pure satisfaction on his face was worth every second of torment.

"Good," he purred, pulling you back into his arms. His lips crashed against yours, his hands roaming your body with possessive intent. His touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you as he explored every inch of your skin.

But just as things were heating up, he pulled away again, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Next question," he said, his voice thick with arousal. "What's the limit as x approaches infinity of 1 over x?"

You bit your lip, your mind racing. "Zero?"

He smiled, slow and dangerous. "Correct."

And then his lips were on you again, his hands everywhere at once, until the only thing you could think about was him—his taste, his touch, the sound of his ragged breathing as he whispered your name.

But just as you reached for the hem of his shirt, he stopped you, his grip firm. "Wait," he said, his voice hoarse. "What's the area under the curve of y equals x squared from 0 to 2?"

You blinked, your brain struggling to catch up. "Uh... 8/3?"

He grinned, his hands sliding up your thighs. "Exactly right."

And then he kissed you again, harder this time, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you onto his lap. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other, desperate and wanting.

But before things could escalate further, he broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he stared into your eyes. "Last question," he said, his voice shaking with restraint. "What's the probability of us finishing this without any interruptions?"

You laughed breathlessly, your hands tangling in his hair. "Slim to none."

"That's what I thought," he growled, pressing his forehead against yours. "But I'm willing to take the risk if you are."

His hands slid up your thighs, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through your body. The air in the room was thick with tension, every breath you took filling your lungs with the scent of him—clean sweat, cologne, and something uniquely Luigi. His brown eyes locked onto yours, dark with desire, but still glinting with that playful intelligence that always seemed to disarm you. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "What's the derivative of e^(2x)?"

You froze for a moment, your mind struggling to focus on anything other than the way his fingers were now tracing circles on your inner thigh. Think, think. You bit your lip, trying to recall the formula. "Uh... 2e^(2x)?"

A slow, approving smile spread across his face. "Perfect," he murmured, his voice low and smooth like honey. His hand moved higher, his fingertips grazing the edge of your panties. You gasped, arching into his touch, but he paused, his smile turning teasing. "Next question. What's the integral of sin(x)? If you get it wrong, I stop."

"Luigi," you whined, squirming under his hold. His thumb pressed against the sensitive spot just above your knee, making it nearly impossible to concentrate. "That's not fair."

"All's fair in love and math," he teased, leaning back slightly to give you space to think. His confidence was infuriatingly attractive, and you couldn't help but laugh despite the ache pooling between your legs.

"The integral is -cos(x)," you said quickly, hoping to end the torture.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Brava," he said as he pulled you closer. His hands slid up your sides, lifting your shirt over your head before you could even process what was happening. The cool air of the room hit your skin, but his body heat chased away any chill. His lips found yours again, hungry and demanding, while his hands explored every curve of your torso.

Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. He chuckled against your mouth, letting you undo them one by one until his chest was finally bare. Your hands roamed over his abs, tracing the ridges and feeling the tightness of his muscles. He groaned softly, his hips pressing up into yours, and you could feel how hard he already was through his pants.

But before you could take things further, he pulled back again, his breathing ragged. "One more question," he said, his voice rough. "What's the limit as x approaches infinity of (3x^2 + 2)/(4x^2 - 1)?"

You groaned, dropping your forehead to his shoulder. "Are you serious right now?"

"Dead serious," he said, his fingers trailing down your spine, making you shiver. "Answer correctly, and I'll make sure you forget your own name."

You could barely think straight, but you forced yourself to focus. The answer came to you in a haze. "Three over four?"

His smile was wicked as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your neck. "Very good baby," he breathed, his hot breath sending goosebumps across your skin. "Now, let me show you how well I can reward good students."

In one swift motion, he stood, lifting you with him as if you weighed nothing. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and he carried you to his bed, laying you down gently before climbing over you. His kisses trailed down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When his lips closed around your nipple, you gasped, your back arching off the bed.

His hands worked quickly, pulling off the rest of your clothes until you were completely bare beneath him. His eyes drank in the sight of you, and the hunger in his gaze made your stomach twist with anticipation. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Before you could respond, his lips descended lower, kissing a path down your stomach until he reached your core. You tensed, your hands gripping the sheets as his tongue touched you for the first time. The sensation was electric, sending sparks through your entire body. He licked slowly, deliberately, driving you insane with the unhurried pace. Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he pressed two fingers inside you, curling them in a way that made you cry out.

"Luigi!" you moaned, your hips lifting off the bed as he worked you with his mouth and fingers. Every stroke, every lick felt like it was unraveling you piece by piece. You were close—so close—but then he stopped, looking up at you with that devilish smirk.

"What's the value of pi to five decimal places?" he asked, his voice steady despite the slickness on his chin.

"Are you fucking kidding me—" you started, but he cut you off with a pinch to your thigh.

"Answer correctly, and I'll finish what I started," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You clenched your fists, frustration and desperation warring within you. "3.14159," you spat out, glaring at him.

His grin widened, and he didn't waste another second. His tongue dove back in, and this time, he didn't stop until you were trembling beneath him, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You cried out his name, your voice breaking as pleasure consumed you.

When you finally came down, he kissed his way back up your body, his lips claiming yours in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only heightened the ache between your legs. His cock pressed against you, hot and heavy, and you reached between you to free him from his pants.

As soon as your hand wrapped around him, he sucked in a sharp breath, his hips jerking forward. "Y/n" he muttered, his voice strained. "You're going to kill me."

You stroked him slowly, savoring the way his eyelids fluttered and his breath hitched. But before you could tease him further, he grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head. "My turn," he growled, settling between your legs. The tip of his cock pressed against you, and you both groaned as he pushed inside, inch by inch.

It was almost too much—his size stretching you in the best way possible—but he gave you time to adjust, peppering your neck with soft kisses. When he finally bottomed out, he stilled, his forehead resting against yours. "Tell me this is okay," he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"Keep going" you replied, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Please, Luigi. Don't stop."

He didn't need to be told twice. His hips began to move, each thrust hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. His rhythm was relentless, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. You clung to him, nails digging into his back as you urged him on. His name spilled from your lips like a prayer, and each time he swallowed your cries with a kiss.

The coil in your stomach tightened again, your second orgasm building faster than you expected. "I'm close," you gasped, your legs shaking around him.

"Me too," he panted, his movements becoming erratic. "Where do you want me to—"

"Inside," you interrupted, the word coming out as a desperate plea. "Please."

He groaned, burying his face in your neck as his thrusts became harder, deeper. With one final push, you shattered, your climax tearing through you like a storm. He followed moments later, spilling himself inside you with a guttural moan. For a long moment, neither of you moved, too lost in the aftermath to care about anything else.

Finally, he rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so you were curled against his chest. His heartbeat was rapid under your ear, and his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. "Thank you," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You looked up at him, grinning despite your exhaustion. "For what? Being a genius at math?"

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "For trusting me." His expression turned thoughtful, and he tilted your chin up so you were looking directly into his eyes.

You stride confidently through the university hall, a triumphant smile lighting up your face. Spotting Luigi, you rush toward him and throw yourself into his arms without hesitation. 

"So, what did you got ?" he asks, barely able to contain his excitement. 

"Ninety-seven! Luigi, you're incredible!" you exclaim, wrapping your arms tightly around him. The curious stares from other students don't faze you in the slightest. 

"I'm proud of you, Y/N!" he says, his tone full of warmth and pride. 

"Well, I had the best tutor anyone could ask for," you reply with a teasing grin. 

Not far away, Luigi's group of friends watches the scene, their confusion evident as they exchange glances, silently trying to piece together what they're seeing. 

"How about we celebrate properly? Dinner's on me," Luigi suggests, his smile growing wider. 

"Absolutely!" 

Without thinking, you lean in and kiss his cheek, the gesture natural and full of gratitude. Luigi chuckles softly, his ears turning just a bit pink, but he doesn't pull away. The buzz of the hall seems to fade, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of joy.

GIRLS IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS ASK ME I WILL DO IT WITH PLEASURE !!!! FEEL FREE TO ASK !!!

[zweetpea]

A dragon's jealously

(A large blurb based on my experience playing genshin and cause I lost my 50-50. However this is a raceless, bodyless, genderless post so anyone can read and all are encouraged to read.)

Well here it was! They could finally claim his C1 after so long! He could finally be close to them! No longer would he sit on the sidelines while they played with Ganyu and Kokomi or Ayato... Cyno... Diluc... Scaramouche... Kaeya! NO! None of them would be of any use to her anymore! She'd never have to take him out of her team.

Of course They'd have to build him a team... But They already had everyone they need for a hyperbloom team! Nahida, Shinobu, and to his Chagrin... Kazuha... though he couldn't fuss too much as they've had Kazuha long before he was even released into the game. Though if that didn't work they could always use fridge... But he'd want her to use Ganyu for that! No way was he about to let Kaeya onto his team to steal his players attention away!

They'd stroll through the lush mountainside of Fontaine together... visit Catherine in the court of Fontaine after their daily run... He'd even get to eat their delectable cooking! And maybe... maybe They'd even put him in their serenitea pot! Oh how he longed for that moment!

But there they were pulling on Zhongli's banner. At first he reasoned that they were going to put Zhongli on his team as there were a few team comps with the two of them together and it wouldn't be out of the question for them to have a mostly 5 star team... they have had one before... but then he remembered that one of those teams needs furina which they unfortunetly didn't have. What was going on?

Were they... trying to replace him? WHY? He was- He IS the best unit in the game! He's SS ranked! He has complex lore! He was drop dead gorgeous (their words, not his)! They've said he was their favorite on multiple occasions! He figured it out as they were doing some stealth and let me tell you, it started to pour. Attempt after attempt it rained, and rained. It splashed onto the ground like there was no tomorrow. Some NPC's started to whisper and worry that his tears would singlehandedly flood Teyvat.

The player was nearing they're 10 pull and he knew what he needed to do. He was sure they were about to pull a 5 star and he would make sure it wasn't Zhongli. He looked at the 7 standard five stars when his gaze fell on Mona. PERFECT! This would surely send them a message. After all Mona was Hydro too so he knew they'd obviously get the message that a certain someone wasn't happy with them.

He sauntered over there with a fire in his eyes. "Miss Mona," He put on a calm voice, "how would you like an all expenses paid trip to Fontaine?" He smiled politely at her.

"Monsieur Neuvillette! How generous of you to offer! I-I couldn't though..."

"Nonsense! Of course you can! A five star hotel and penthouse suite, private Michelin chef, I'll even take care of your rent for you for however long you decide to stay." He sweetened the pot more and more; circling her like a hungry vulture sizing up it's prey.

"Wow... okay then!" She grabs his hands in thanks.

He reeled back. "Not so fast. I need you to do something for me first."

He face fell in shock. "Oh! Yes of course..." She knew it was too good to be true.

His voice dropped into a sinister husk. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her towards the golden star that would soon be falling down into the players hands. "All I need you to do is ruin our players 50-50 pull on Zhongli..." He whispered into her ear.

"That's it?" She looked up at him skeptically.

"That's it." He nodded, pushing her toward the star a bit.

"OKAY!!" She nodded excitedly and hopped on right as the player pulled.

He looked longingly at their crushed face and smiled symapthetically. "Sorry darling... but you're only allowed to have one dragon Daddy in your life."

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ How Would The Slytherin boys React After you tell them you’re pregnant:✦ 」

[Mattheo Riddle-Theodore Nott-Lorenzo Berkshire-Draco Malfy-Tom Riddle]

•Mattheo Riddle

1.Silence: You blurt out the news, a nervous flutter in your chest. Mattheo stares at you, processing the information. Don't panic! This is his initial shock absorbing mode.

2. More Silence: You try again. Still, silence. Don't take it personally; his mind is racing a million miles a minute.

3. The Disappearance Act: By evening, Mattheo might be MIA. Don't fret! This is probably him needing some space to grapple with the news. (Don't chase him to Knockturn Alley, though.)

4. Awkward Return: When he finally returns, you launch into a "what-are-we-going-to-do" speech. But wait! He cuts you off...

5. "Hey, it's okay” : Mattheo might surprise you with a calm demeanor. This doesn't mean he isn't nervous, but he's trying to reassure you (and maybe himself).

6. "I want it too." : Prepare for a confession! Mattheo, the king of nonchalance, might admit he wants this, with you. This might be followed by an apology for his earlier silence."Sorry, I was just shocked earlier. Shouldn't have reacted that way."

7. Confusion Reigns: "You're not mad?" you finally manage to ask, a sliver of doubt lingering.He might confess he's clueless about the whole "No," he says, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. "It's just... I never thought about this stuff. Family, kids, the whole shebang. But if I'm gonna do it, I want it to be with you."  _Cue the tiny butterflies in your stomach._

8. "But with you.":He might clarify that while the whole baby thing is new, having it with you? That's something he can do.

9. Protectiveness Unleashed: Expect a shift in Mattheo. He might become fiercely protective of you and the little one on the way. (Just don't tell him it's "nesting" if he starts building a barricade around your house.),Mattheo will hover over you, insisting you take prenatal vitamins and threatening to glare down any stranger who bumps into you. It's annoyingly sweet.

10.The (Slight) Freak Out (Because It's Mattheo): Don't get too comfortable yet. There will be moments of panic. Mattheo might blurt out something about not knowing the first thing about raising a kid, or how motorbikes suddenly seem like a terrible idea. Just remind him that you're in this together, crazy as it may be.

•Theodore Nott

1. Reality Check?: Theo might blurt out, "Are you sure?" It's not doubt about your love, but the sheer unexpectedness of it all. Breathe, and calmly confirm with that positive blood test result.

2. Freak-Out Time: Picture a cartoon character with smoke billowing from their ears. That might be Theo, internally freaking out. Don't worry, it's normal (though maybe not that dramatic).

3. Parental Apocalypse?: "Your dad will kill me!" Theo might shriek, envisioning a future father-in-law wielding a shotgun.

4. Waterworks Warning: Tears might well up in your eyes, a mix of emotions swirling. He will put everything beside and try to comfort you.

5. Protective Streak: Expect a dramatic shift. Theo, the notorious rule-breaker, might turn into a fierce protector, ready to shield you from any and all perceived threats.

6. Reassurance Renaissance: He'll rush to your side, muttering reassurances like "Hey, I'm here" and "I'll be here every step of the way." "I might be freaking out internally, but I'm not going anywhere."

7. "We" is the New Word: The "me" might temporarily disappear, replaced by a constant "we." He might start talking about "our baby" and "what we need to do.".

8. Fear is a Two-Way Street: Theo might confess he's scared too. Don't be surprised; fatherhood is a big leap for anyone. Reassure him you're in this together.

9. Facing the Future, Together: Theo might not be known for responsibility, but this news could be a turning point. He might surprise you with his determination to navigate this journey with you.

10.A (Slightly Chaotic) New Chapter: Yes, there will be challenges. But with Theo by your side, even the most chaotic moments of pregnancy and parenthood can turn into an unforgettable adventure (well, maybe not all the diaper changes).

•Lorenzo Berkshire

1. Record Scratch Moment: "Excuse me, what?" Lorenzo might look like a record player with a skipped track. Don't worry, the information overload will clear soon.

2. Baby Talk Confusion: He might blurt out, "Pregnant? Like...with a baby, like a real baby ?"

5. The F-Bomb Symphony: Brace yourself for a chorus of "Oh fuck!" Lorenzo might panic a bit, but hey, at least he acknowledges the reality.

6. Apology Avalanche: Prepare for a barrage of "I'm so sorry for putting a baby on you." It's not guilt-tripping, just Lorenzo's awkward way of expressing concern.

7. Decision Time: He might cut through the tension with a simple, "Okay, what do we do?" Don't be fooled by his bluntness; he's ready to face this together. He might surprise you with a genuine, "I want it. Do you?" Expect a hint of nervousness, but mostly a determination to be a part of this.

8. Family Gathering Fiasco: Prepare for a potential meltdown when it comes to telling your families. He might blurt out, "I'm pregnant!" before you can correct him. Just take a deep breath and handle the announcement yourself later.

9. Overprotective Overload: Expect Lorenzo to morph into your personal bubble wrap. Lifting a box? Forget it. Climbing stairs? Hold on, he's got you. You might need to remind him you're not made of glass .

10. Google Goes Dad Mode: One night, you might catch him researching "how to take care of a pregnant woman" , “ How to be a good dad “ on his phone. Aww, just don’t cry you will freak him out again.

•Draco Malfy

1. Denial is a River in Egypt:  His first response? "You're lying." Don't panic. This is classic Draco, clinging to disbelief. Prepare to show him the pregnancy test, the blood test… anything to pierce his denial bubble.

2."Look Away, Not At It!": He might stubbornly refuse to even glance at the evidence. Don't take it personally; it's his defense mechanism malfunctioning.

3. Accusatory Tirade: Brace yourself for a verbal explosion. He might accuse you of lying, of trapping him, of using his family name. Remember, fear often masquerades as anger in Draco's world.

4. Protection Spells on His Pants?: He might insist he used every protection under the sun. Don't get into a magical contraception debate. Just try to explain accidents happen.

5. The Ejector Seat Option: Draco might bluntly tell you to leave. It's a knee-jerk reaction, not a reflection of his true feelings (hopefully!).

6. Standing Your Ground: Here comes the hard part. You tell him you're keeping the baby, with or without him. This might be the first crack in his emotional armor.

7. A Continent Away From Chaos: Fearing his reaction and the uncertainty of it all, you flee to another country. Girl, we feel you! But remember, you're not alone in this.

8. A Connection You Can't Deny: Despite the fear, you feel a powerful bond with the tiny life growing inside you. This little one deserves a chance, and you vow to protect them.

9. The Redemption Knocks: Two months later, a frantic pounding on your door jolts you awake. You open it to find a desperate Draco, his face etched with worry.

10. A Malfoy Regret-Fest: He confesses he searched everywhere for you, regret gnawing at him. When he learns you fled, the dam breaks. He apologizes profusely, begging you to tell him you kept the baby.

A Second Chance, Malfoy Style:

Relief washes over you as you nod, tears welling up. He wipes them away, muttering, "It's still ours. I'm so sorry. I'll never hurt you or our baby again." A genuine plea hangs in his voice.

“ Do you still love me?“ A shaky nod escapes your lips. He pleads for forgiveness, for a chance to be part of this family he never knew he craved.

This might be the start of a rocky but redemptive journey for both of you. Draco, beneath his icy exterior, might surprise you with his capacity for love and growth. Just remember, keep a communication charm handy – navigating fatherhood with Draco will likely be an… interesting adventure.

•Tom Riddle

1. The Stoic Facade: Don't be surprised if Tom remains eerily calm. His usual mask of control might slip not an inch, leaving you wondering what's going on behind those eyes.

2. Tears: A flood of emotions might be coursing through you, but Tom? His reaction might be a chilling calmness. This doesn't mean he's unfeeling, just that he processes things differently.

3. Misinterpreting Your Distress: Seeing you cry, Tom might jump to a chilling conclusion. "Is having a baby with me that terrifying?" Here comes the part where you clarify.

4. Guilt by Association: A quick "No, no!" will hopefully ease his worry. But then you blurt out your fear – you're both too young.

5. Age is Irrelevant: Tom operates on a different timeline. Age is just a number, and power? That's the real currency. He might say, "It's not about age, it's about power."

6. Power Trip for Three?: Brace yourself for a Tom Riddle monologue about the immense power your child could possess. He might see it as an extension of his own ambitions, a prodigy groomed for greatness.Don't be afraid to voice your anxieties. When you say, "Tom, I don't want my baby to be part of your plans," he might actually listen.

6. A Promise, Riddle-Style: “I promise you, I will keep them safe. I will keep you safe." But remember, Tom's definition of "safe" might not align with yours. Stay frosty.

7. Your Fears Take Center Stage: Tears welling up again? This might be the moment it dawns on Tom that you're not thrilled about the power angle. He might try to reassure you, but...

8. Promises with a Price: Tom doesn't give anything without expecting something in return. Be prepared for him to outline his expectations for your role in his grand plan.

9. A Tug-of-War for the Future: This is where things get interesting. Do you submit to his vision, or do you fight for a different future for your child? The choice is yours.

10. A Dance with Darkness: Having a child with Tom Riddle is a gamble. He might be a captivating presence, but remember, his path is paved with darkness. Are you willing to walk it with him?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[coldilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 7

Again like- a lot of timeskips

____________________________

Present

"Yellow? You- you're giving me yellow?" Duke's brows furrowed at the color

Batman sighed "is something wrong with it?"

"no- just, everyone has dark colors, I don't wanna be a lightbulb"

"you will take what you'll get" Batman escorts Duke to the exit "Training starts tomorrow"

Bruce slumps in a chair, his hand crawling to a tv remote

"Okay- so- I'm bored right now, here is my cover of rolling in the deep------" A small nine year old kid holds a hairbrush as a mic

Countless videos of this child playing all by themselves, they found the iPad in the kid's room, while trying to search for a clue of what kind of person his child could be

-----"okay so, I'm on patrol right now, it's not allowed to record but loooook!" The camera pans to three small kittens in an alley

Bruce remembers, He made the kid throw the kittens back out on the street, Now he wonders how they felt when he let Damian's pets wander around the manor

__________________________

11 years old (Name)

"-You are no longer needed since Damian is here now"

The kid tightens their grip on their clothes "Is it that easy for you to replace me?" They asked, voice wavering, and their head lowering so Batman wouldn't see the tears that would fall

"(Name) I need a proper vigilante, not bait, so far you got attacked three times today alone" he pinched his nose

"And I managed to fight them all! If you're gonna turn Damian into a vigilante that's fine with me, but you're excluding me all together!?"

"this is not a discussion. If I ever find you in that suit again you won't be allowed to even get out of the Manor" he coldly said and turned away

(Name) has stayed away from the library since that day

____________________________

Aquaman stands before the council of governments and the justice league

"we are not responsible for the ocean's uprising! My empire has been doing everything to calm the ocean down, but it does not listen to my trident anymore!"

The sky and the seas have been raging lately, the shores have been rampaging, the justice league forced to evacuate sea dwellers

Wonderwoman spoke up "Aquaman is right, it is not his fault, it... It is the gods"

The crowd murmured in confusion

"Zeus and Poseidon have been having disputes, A powerful weapon was stolen and both sides are accusing each other, it is best to try and appease even a little of the gods anger, and pray they won't share their wrath with the humans" She finished

An uproar started

"You mean to tell us, lives were lost because of their arguing!?!"

"They're gods! Why can't they just talk amongst themselves?!"

"this is why I pray to Jesus... He is real right?" A reporter asked

"he is, but he's from a different Pantheon" Wonderwoman answered

"It's ALWAYS about fucking weapons, humans fight for nuclear weapons, and the gods fight about them too?"

"Do they need a spokesperson? I'll sort out their fight for them if they want"

A reporter raised his hand "Is there a place safe from their anger?"

"Well... Egypt is under the control of the Egyptian gods, but even, they are in conflict, Set is currently causing chaos, Boston and the land of the Vikings are protected by the Norse... Unfortunately- Loki has been freed from his prison and is also causing chaos" Wonderwoman sighed in stress

"But so far, no other Pantheons have been fighting, go to them, pray at them to protect you, just don't try to do anything that will anger the already angry gods as is, we might be the butt of their anger if we do"

With that the meeting ends, but not their fear though

___________________________

6 months later

"NNGGGHRRROOAAARRR" A roar from the Colchis bulls shakes the camp

Gerald Thanes (An ares kid) charged at the bull but was thrown at the table nearby

"What the fuck is that" you scream, A girl from your cabin grabs your hand and you run, "Can't we help!?"

"We can but we have to be careful, get a weapon or run to the armoury for protection first" with you guys being in a safe space now, she lets go and hugs you "I'll call on some dryads to help with the fire, stay safe okay?"

"you too" you say as you grab a spear on the floor, you throw it at the bulls feet, it nicks some gears off of it, but then It starts to charge at you

You ready to point your spear but then

?????

What?

It was running but it wasn't going anywhere, you walk to the side to see a cyclops holding it by the tail

He looks at you "Hi! :3 I'm Tyson"

You smile awkwardly "I'm (Name)"

Then two figures hug you to the ground

Percy laughs "I missed you so much!", Annabeth smiles at me "(Name)... let's finish this quickly, I want to tell you a lot of things"

Clarisse grunts as she gets thrown in our direction "can the three of you stop being sentimental! It's not the right time"

"Nice to see you too Clarisse" Percy says

______________________________

@delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven @sweetconnoisseurgardener @dhanyasri @bella-wolf100 @shortnsweetsposts @roseapov @d3sperate-enuf

[tiny-space-platypus]

Never really fit back in

Part 5 9:47 PM June 26 How much can you lose in a day?

Previous

11:00 PM June 25

Damian was infuriated and terrified. He wanted to keep his brother from the family at first. He had wanted to meet him on his own first. Damian wanted to ease him into the family unlike how he was but apparently his family had other ideas.

He could only watch from the cameras he had hacked into a while ago. There was no time to get the Masters Manor, there was no time to protect his brother. Though Damian knew his brother never needed protection, Danyal Al Gul was the stronger twin, the smarter twin, and the more protective twin. Danyal never let Damian be punished if he could help it, Danyal took the blame for any misdeed or mistake and when he couldn't he'd just switch places with Damian. They were practically identical after all and every time Danyal would return smiling. Happy to have protected him and Damian repaid that kindness by killing him.

He watched as his brother disappeared out of his father's grasp. Damian would need to explain his brother to his family as soon as they got back.

He'd need to tell that that Danyal was supposed to be dead. By his hands. That he had died when he were 7. How he melted away into the pit instead of coming back to them.

He needed to find his brother, to explain this misdeed. He had just gotten his brother back Damian couldn't lose him again.

Midnight June 26th

"I'm your son"

The bitter and hurt voice of his son rang in his ears as he made his way back to the Alley. That boy couldn't be his son. He would have been told if he had another-

Tim was in the cave, Bruce had sent him there with samples from Danny. Samples he wanted tested and the computers he wanted scrapped. When the test came back, it confirmed Danny was his son. He needed answers and the Fentons likely had them. They did raise the boy after all but first, he had to see his parents. Bruce doubted he'd be able to follow his normal routine for the day anyways. So he left the flowers at the sight of their death early on the oh so rainy anniversary of their death. He whispered to flowers as he placed them down. "I don't believe I'll be able to follow our tradition this year. I'm sorry"

... The Fentons weren't as helpful as Bruce had hoped.

They practically knew nothing of their son or daughter instead they kept rambling on about the dangers of ghosts and Phantom. In short they were insane..

Until Tim and Barbara checked their computers, till they called an all hands to show the Fentons cutting open and tearing apart a boy with white flowing hair and terrified green eyes. The boy had some sort of muzzle on to prevent him from speaking or screaming, all he could do was cry as the Fentons spoke of him like he was a monster. Tim skipped over most of the recording, showing the Fenton pulling organs and bones out of the poor boy as he fast-forwarded to after the Fentons had left, leaving the boy strapped down and still cut open on their metal table. A red headed girl came down the stairs to the lab and carefully removed his restraints. In a small flash of light the white haired boy was gone replaced with Danny. Green blood now an awful red as his head lolled again the girl. The girl then threw him through a green portal they had been off when they tore down the Fenton Lab.

They were quiet for a moment before Barbara played the next Video of Masters making closes of Danny and using said clones to attack the boy. Then it was Damian's turn to explain his brother's story. By the end of it Bruce had realized his mistake but as it always was with his children. He realized too late.

9:55 PM June 26

It was raining when Danyal finally made it to Gotham. Flying would normally help with his rage, help with the emotions he normally refused to let loose. He wanted to make sure this is what he wanted so he waited a full day before taking action. The emotions he hid as Danny and festered in as Phantom where now let loose as his core slowly turned the rainy summer night of Gotham into a snow storm. Danyal didn't care that the living below him weren't prepared for the sudden change of temperature and weather. He didn't care because the living shouldn't be his problem. The living weren't his problem anymore. At least the dead were consistent, they either feared him or loved him or both. They didn't cause havoc anymore only occasionally coming around for a friendly spar. His rogues were more of a family than his real one ever was.

Ｃｒａｃｋ

It's time to balance the scales. The living loved to take and take and take and now it was time to give.

Ｃ ｒ ａ ｃ ｋ

Danyal could feel Gotham mourning. Mourning a loss from decades earlier, the loss of Thomas and Martha Wayne as the city did every year for her knights. Danyal does feel a little bad for disturbing a sacred day for the city but if anyone had the right to do so it would be him.

Danny stood in Crime Alley looking down at the soaking wet and slowly freezing roses left of the ground some time before he got there. He frowned at the roses as he made 2 little ice vases to place the frozen flowers in. Danyal knew they were memorial flowers by the two spirits that hovered around them. He sat with the ghosts of his would-be grandparents, rage still radiating off of him.

He detransforms back into his human form except for the glowing green katana he summoned. Now he waits, holding a katana that felt both so right and so wrong in his hands. Danyal will grow used to it again.

The two ghosts fidgeted as Martha elbowed her husband wanting him to say something to their angry grandson. He cleared his throat and tried to speak softly. "He didn't know Phantom. None of them knew. None of them like speaking of death."

Danny scoffed, "yes I am very aware of how uncomfortable the living are with dying." He ran his fingers along the edge of his blade. "It's what I get for hoping for something better. Now everything is so much worse."

Martha cut in her voice soft as she placed a ghostly hand on the young lonely king. "He would love to have you once everything is explained"

Danny buried his face in his hands before looking up at the smog filled sky. "I-I don't think I want that anymore. They didn't even try to get to know me before trying to destroy my life." Danny paused as he looked back at the frozen flowers. "Maybe I should go find Mother, she loved me once, she cared once. Damian can stay here and I can take care of the league. Maybe that's my place"

10:15 PM June 26

It didn't take long to be found, Danyal knew it wouldn't. There is always at least one Bat around here, he was expecting Red Hood or Jason whichever pill boy liked to be called. But that's not who found him. Instead he was face to face with Batman, instead he was face to face with a father that was never his. A father who never loved him.

Ｃ ｒ ａ ｃ ｋ

If Danyal hadn't followed his father or had lived with Damian as a child, he probably would have found the constant scowl intimating but Danyal was King and possible heir to the league. 2 positions he never wanted but 2 positions he'd take anyways. "I'm not here for you Batman. I'm here for my brother."

————————

Bruce looked down at the boy in front of him. A boy he failed to recognize twice, but now he couldn't help but recognize him. A boy who was almost identical to Damian except for the icy blue eyes that were currently staring a hole through him. Just like how Damian did when he first arrived at the Manor. Would this child also come to the manor? Would he even want to join the family after all they've done? What he could do was try and ensure their decisions didn't ruin his sons' relationship. Bruce couldn't let his mistakes tear his sons apart again.

"The attack wasn't Robin's idea. It was mine, I'm sorry." Bruce's gaze was soft and he was apologizing but it was all too little too late. "If I had known-"

Danyal stares at Bruce matching his gaze with a glare. He snapped at Bruce. "If you had known, you would have for tea? Played up that nice and goofy dad persona? I've played that game before too and I don't need to play it again."

Damian would soon drop down from the roof tops disobeying Bruce's grounding. Damian dressed as Robin with his katana stood facing a now different Danyal dressed in a league uniform. Danyal's eyes shifted a glowing green as his skin became as pale as Bruce and hair pure whispy white. He looked over at Bruce as his crown appeared over his head shifted between fire and ice as it floated above his head. A command rang out from the boy.

"Don't interfere"

Danyal then turned to Damian and held out his blade. Danyal's eyes were cold as he stared at his brother who also prepared himself to spare. He took a deep breath as he felt a little nostalgic this was just like how they'd spare when they were young except Danyal wasn't going to hold back this time.

Damian stared as his brother's cold glare, he wasn't used to it. His brother had always been the happy cheery and easy going brother. It was why grandfather didn't like him. It's why mother loved him. That glare however reminded him more of grandfather, a man he knew his brother hated.

"I once hoped we could be a family again Dami. I understand that was a foolish wish now"

Ｃｒａｃｋ

—————————

A small buzz came from Bruce Com, a small reminder he had built into it to remind him of the time every year at the time. 9:42 June 26th, 5 minutes til he's supposed to be in this alley watching over his parents Death sight. Yet again Bruce was powerless, unable to move to stop his sons from fighting. Unable to prevent another death in the family. The fight was quick, Danyal was the winner cutting down his brother as easily as he did to him so many years ago.

Bruce watched Damian fall and screamed as he tried desperately to move, to get to his son. He couldn't- not here, please not here. He watched as Danyal pulled out his sword allowing Damian to slump further.

Move MOVE MOVE 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙀

But he couldn't, all he could do was watch as his son's face paled and breathing labored. Damian was dying and there wasn't a damned thing he could do... Again.

Danyal grabbed Damian by the hair pulling him up to the wounds through his chest was entirely visible and bleeding profusely.

"You're lucky I promised Mother I would always take care of you"

Danyal presses his green blade into Damian's chest allowing the living brother to take in the ectoplasm Blade to heal. The pit and ectoplasm were practically the same after all. Danyal then snapped his fingers after dropping Damian. Bruce Stumbled forward and grabbed Damian immediately then began to call for back up. As Bruce focused on his now unconscious son, Danyal disappeared into the shadows.

9:47 PM June 26th

[vaspider]

If you have celiac or otherwise can't eat wheat, btw, and you like bread, I highly recommend investing in a breadmaker. Even the best store-bought gluten-free bread does not hold a candle to the stuff that comes out of our breadmaker, and it's cheaper per slice even when we buy bread mix in single-loaf bags.

This is our breadmaker. Evie got it on sale, but it is an investment. I'm not going to pretend it isn't a chunk of change up front. There are cheaper ones, but the reason I like this one and think it's worth the money:

It has two smaller paddles, where our older bread maker that my mom got us and got destroyed by getting construction dust in it had one big paddle in the middle. This leaves a big hole in the middle of the finished loaf, which makes the bread much less useful for, like, sandwiches.

Zojirushi is not as well-known a brand in the US, but it's a Brand Name in Japan for good reason. Evie's had our Zojirushi rice cooker for over a decade & we had to replace the inner bowl once bc someone used metal utensils in it and scratched the non-stick coating. We expect to use this machine for at least a decade.

You can program your own cycles, which we found really useful. Evie built a custom cycle that removed the punch-down sections (gluten-free bread tends not to rise as much) and that made our perfect loaf.

A lot of bread machines produce very tall, square loaves, which are awkward to slice, store, and make sandwiches with. This produces loaves that make good sandwiches and toast, and the French toast slices don't crowd the pan.

The top heating element on this gives a really amazingly browned top crust that we definitely didn't get on our old machine.

It's so pretty.

So how is it cheaper in the long run if the machine costs $300+? A little like this:

We use Pamela's Bread Mix bc it's really consistent and easy - you need the bread mix, water, yeast, 3 egg whites, and oil. (We use avocado oil and find it best and most consistent, but regular vegetable oil works!) We buy Pamela's in bulk, and without any subscription discounts or whatever, the $48 pack of 3 bags makes about 11.5 loaves. With the cost of yeast and eggs and stuff, it ends up costing about $4.50 a loaf. (If you buy your yeast in larger bags & store it in an airtight container, you can create less waste and it's also cheaper.)

By comparison, a loaf of Franz GF Bread costs $7-8, and Canyon Bakehouse usually runs about the same.

However, that's not an apples to apples comparison because the Franz loaf is an 18 oz. loaf, whereas our breadmaker makes a 2 lb. loaf. Assuming even the lower-end cost for getting a Franz loaf at the store, an equivalent amount of bread would cost $12.42, and it's not nearly as good.

(Yes, gluten-free bread is fucking expensive. That's part of why I'm writing this post in the first place.)

Anyway, assuming you eat 2 lbs. of bread a week in your house - a breadmaker loaf, basically, to make the math simple - you'll end up spending $7.92 less on bread every week. That means that even at the most expensive cost for the Zojirushi, if you buy it at its highest price (don't do that! wait for a sale!) it'll take 50 weeks - about a year - before the breadmaker pays for itself. If you manage to get it on a 25% off sale (which we did), it pays for itself in about 9 months.

Nine months, I must stress, in which you are eating much more delicious bread.

We tend to go through a couple of loaves a week because toast, sandwiches, and melts are great food for people with low spoons.

Evie and I perfected the Pamela's mix recipe for this particular machine - I'll get it typed up when I'm downstairs next, along with the quasi-babka recipe. (Really, it's like a marble cake and babka and bread had a baby, and it's a family favorite.)

Bread good. The end.

[kaeyachi]

I completed Paralogism just now. Here are my Kaeya thoughts

It's all Kaeya talk. Lore is scrumptious though. Genuinely blew my mind coz this quest went hard with it. The thing is, I was multitasking at work just to finish this quest today, and you best bet I'll still be too busy to actually talk about the GOATED lore. I could make a lore post at a later date, but for now, that takes too much time (coz I double check stuff), so I decided to just talk about the character I'm passionate about. Gushing about Kaeya? That comes easy because it's from the heart. Here's the Kaeya thoughts for GI 5.6 Paralogism:

Kaeya would have been a great lawyer confirmed...HAD THEY ALL NOT HAVE BEEN ACTING THIS WHOLE DAMN TIME

THE ENTIRE LEADING OFFICERS OF THE KOF + VENTI AND DAHLIA. PLANNING ALL OF THIS FOR THE PAST 6 MONTHS WITHOUT US REALIZING. THATS CRAZY

Kaeya planned for Hertha to be the one replaced by a fake btw...what next? did he write the script too?! OTL

and mind you, Vile, his most notable informant, was just out there in the streets while Mond was getting attacked...did she get caught up in a bad time or...

segway before I go back to Kaeya, but Mondstadt is stacked with powerhouses. They were all chill. They have a Klee and a Noelle (and a Lisa, and a Diluc-) *shrugs*

speaking of, Diluc did it again. An abyss creature tried to hurt Kaeya, but Diluc just charges out of nowhere to protect him. Kaeya was the most chill person ever in this entire quest, I'm not even kidding (but the pun is very intended). Even the way he stood! IT WAS CHILL AF because his "enthusiastic civilian" companion is there to slam his claymore before Kaeya could even blink

Corrupted(? poisoned? fake?) Donna you will be missed, I wish hoyo gave you the opportunity to sing more melodies about Kaeya's beauty. If we had a nickel every time someone canonically gets a crush on Kaeya...

Kaeya is so pretty this entire quest btw. I see him daily, but his aura in the courtroom is *chefs kiss*. I think it's the serious energy he had kept the entire trial that made me go "whoah"

By the way, the fact that Diluc wasn't even in on it at first, but figured it out on the first trial, not because the fakes were acting out of character, but because... *squints* Kaeya wasn't nervous??? huh??

Diluc. Diluc, darling, hold my hand for a moment now. Mr. Ragnvindr, I theorized that Kaeya has anxiety on the reg. I even posted it an HC fic some time ago about it...are you telling me...KAEYA MIGHT ACTUALLY BE AN ANXIOUS PERSON? THE SOFT, UNSURE VOICE FROM VELURIYAM MIRAGE IS FAR MORE COMMON (probably in the past) THAN WE THOUGHT?

Also, Kaeya and Diluc's relationship seemed to have improved again because they are spending windblume together! Kaeya looks so animated as he chatted with Diluc on their way out of Mondstadt's gates (assuming they will be going to Dawn Winery to celebrate? 🥺). Lowkey reminded me of an excited kid

Cute new factoid! He is the captain of the 9th Company. Gonna utilize that somewhere somehow. (btw i am also shocked that Mond kept 7 captains in Mondstadt? Where are the other 3? With Varka I hope?)

Just realized the quest is called Paralogism because Mond deceived our asses the same way the fakes also deceived our asses. It was a festival of deception 😤 THEY DIDNT REALLY NEED US BY THE WAY. WE WERE JUST A BONUS. MOND CONTINUES TO BE ABLE TO HANDLE THEMSELVES JUST FINE. THEIR ARCHON CAN USE WIND AS A WALKIE-TALKIE CMON NOW.

one more thing, but Albedo and Venti being worried about the truth about Albedo being Rhinedottir's son because the people could lose trust in him... I just pictured what would happen to Kaeya if it were his secret that got out... the angst potential in that...

Aaaand that is all for now. Mind you, I absolutely enjoyed Natlan (the 2nd AQ is impressive, and the world quest is, dare I say, the best one I've ever done), but DAMN did I genuinely miss Mondstadt. I missed it so much that I cried for a bit after seeing the announcement that the 5.6 AQ is for Mondstadt. It really is my home, and my heart feels lighter now that I was able to go back and see how the nation that welcomed me continues to thrive. I know this peace isn't forever for Mondstadt, knowing how they put all the characters with sus and interesting lore there (and the land itself is curious), but for now, I get to see the characters that introduced me to the game living their lives and having fun, and some visibly healing from their past issues.

[ficsbyabby]

"Is that my shirt?" "You mean our shirt?"

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: mentions of injury

Words: 392

a/n: Hey y'all this is my first time publishing my writing here so be sure to leave some feedback. This is being written at midnight because my body decided to be mean, so I'm sure I'll need it. This is for @omgrachwrites' 1k follower celebration, congratulations girlie!

You dug through Steve's dresser, trying not to make too much noise, though there was no reason to worry. You were the only one left in the tower; everyone else had gone on a mission and weren't expected back until the next evening. Your leg had been burned badly in an explosion during the last mission, keeping you benched.

It had taken you three hours to convince Steve that you would be fine on your own. The man was a mother hen. Eventually, with some gentle threatening from Natasha, he had agreed.

You now regretted encouraging him to go. Nightmares filled your sleep, waking you up drenched in a cold sweat. You missed Steve; he was a teddy bear and security blanket wrapped in one.

This led you to your current mission, stealing one of Steve's ridiculously comfortable shirts. Tight on Steve, they dwarfed you, making them perfect for sleeping in.

Finally, you found the shirt you were looking for. It was one of Steve's favorites, the one you had custom-made for him. The shirt was navy blue and read, "Just a kid from Brooklyn". Steve had grinned when he read it and now wore it constantly around the compound.

Smiling fondly at the memory, you slipped off your pajamas and replaced it with the shirt. You felt the tension in your body drip away as you realized it still smelled like him too. Contently, you crawled into the bed and fell asleep.

7 hours later, Steve hummed happily as he made his way to his room after the debriefing. The mission had taken much less time than anticipated, allowing him to spend the day with you. He reached his room and opened the door softly, expecting you to still be sleeping.

There you were, lying sprawled across the bed, hair a mess and mouth open. Steve quickly removed his clothing and got into bed, pulling you into him gently. You woke up immediately and promptly rolled over and kissed his cheek happily.

"You're back early," you remarked.

"Yeah intel overestimated the amount of agents they'd have and..." he answered before pausing and taking a look at you, "Is that my shirt?"

"You mean our shirt?"

"Oh now it's shared?" he asked, a smile on his lips.

"Yep, I'll draw up a custody agreement in the morning. Now, we're going to sleep."