#Building Block Kits

[exercisenplay]

Exploring the Endless Possibilities of Building Block Kits

In the world of creative play and educational toys, building block kits have remained a timeless favorite among children and adults alike. These versatile and engaging sets of interlocking blocks have transcended generations, providing endless opportunities for imagination, problem-solving, and skill development. Whether you're a child building a towering castle or an adult constructing intricate structures, building block kits serve as the ultimate tool for unleashing creativity and fostering a love for construction. Let's delve into the world of building block kits and explore the wonders they offer.

[tiny-glued-things]

Just 2.5 inches tall!  Loved this cat library, and can’t wait to make the other houses in this set. 

(Kit: Building Block Town: Gary’s Collection Room)

[wolfman-al]

Star Trek model sets seen in the Blue Brixx store in Kaiserslautern.

[soysaucevictim]

Oi. Tomorrow, gonna need to go do groceries again.

I think it's time to be more involved in my own meal planning.

[alltimefail-sims]

Sooooo round walls are buggy as heck?! There's no way the the Sims team isn't aware of this.

Worst part is that their asses are going to try and sell the medieval kit people voted on even though round walls are quintessential to those builds and they do. not. work!!!!

[mlarayoukai]

Touhou isn't main stream yet because I don't see bootlegs on temu

[largemouthbassnation]

MAPerformance Customer Loyalty Manager's 500hp LS Swapped Malibu | MAPerformance Fast Features

He’s probably helped you troubleshoot an install or two and he knows your builds inside and out! Now he’s sharing his build with … source

[jambandatl]

Universal Development: Year One - Year Two

Expanded Curriculum Focus 1. Integrate Technology Mindfully: Utilize interactive e-books or apps that allow your child to interact with the story by touching parts of the screen to hear sounds or change images. This can enhance his engagement and make reading time even more dynamic. Consider short, child-friendly videos that tie into your weekly themes, like watching real animals for “Animal…

[lovelyreviews1]

Picasso Tiles

Picasso Tiles is perfect to help kids with motor skill functions and other functions. They have all kinds of things to help your littles learn. 

They have building blocks magnet tile play sets, race car sets, magnetic bricks (that kind of looks like legos but are not), Marble run tiles, puzzles,engineering and construction, and magnetic cubes, stem robot toys and so much more.

 I highly suggest these for those that have autism like my son who enjoys block building and magnets. This can help them because they have different tiles that have different textures and can be a sensor for them. 

There is all kinds of building toys to choose from and things like music and a drawing board that can potentially help them learn their abc in the long run. I wish I found this company whenever I was teaching my kids theirs because this would have come in handy. This is also perfect for those who are home schooling because they have so much.

[villainbait]

Exclusive Favors

Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: PG-13 Tags: who did this to you, hurt, comfort, hurt/comfort, injury, implied violence, brief violence mentions, angst, canon sylus behavior, blood mentions, kissing if you squint Summary: You barely survived a night on your own in the N109 Zone without the watchful gaze of certain Onychinus leader, but at what cost? Word Count: 1.5k

The dull sound of your door closing was like the snap of a final curtain call falling into place and you slumped against it, relieved to be safely in your own apartment. You had survived a night in the N109 Zone on your own, but it had been a near miss. One you wouldn’t be repeating, especially since the intel you wanted had been a bust, anyway. 

You touched your side, your breathing uneven, and you wince. You definitely have a cracked rib. You try to take a deep breath and pain radiates from your chest into your stomach, making you a little nauseous. Okay, maybe two.

You were trying to psych yourself up to move and trudge into your apartment to give yourself much needed medical attention when the reverberating shock of someone's forceful knock bounced you against your door-frame. You consider not answering the insistent caller on the other side, but a muffled, familiar baritone floats through the door.

"Open the door, sweetie."

A sigh left your lips at the demand and you tried to stifle the pathetic, painful whimper that your exasperation cost you. Of all the people on the other side of that door, Sylus was the most unexpected. Or maybe not, considering he boasted that he knew everything that went on in his territory. Maybe that’s why he was here and if it was, he wouldn’t leave until his curiosity was satisfied.

The door cracks open and you stare up at him through the hole you made, reluctant to allow him entrance and to partially block his view of the damage those thugs had caused when they mugged you in the alleyway earlier tonight. However, Sylus’s easy smile is nowhere to be found and the frown lines on his forehead are the deepest you've ever seen them. His large hand wraps around the door-frame so you can’t close it again and he pushes gently against it, but you don’t budge. 

"Who did this to you?" His tone is dangerously low.

You ignore his question, instead poking your head out to look down the deserted hallway of your apartment building. "Why are you here? It's dangerous." It was risky for Sylus to wander around Linkon City normally, even if he claimed many people didn't know what he actually looked like. However, the Hunter’s Association did and your building was crawling with employees at all hours of the day and night.

"You didn't answer your phone, so I got worried."

Oh right, you had forgotten they had taken that too. You sighed again, the pain of having to replace everything beginning to give you a headache. That key charm Zayne had given you for your birthday was perhaps the worst thing to have lost, maybe more than the phone itself.

"Let me in, kitten." Sylus’s voice is gently cajoling and you concede because you're too tired to argue with him tonight. So you open the door and  try to act normal, but your voice is far too lighthearted for how heavy your legs feel as you trudge into the apartment. 

“You know, if you keep frowning like that you’ll get wrinkles and people really will think you’re an old man.” 

He follows you in with a small chuckle, his eyes bouncing around the room as if the perpetrators could be hiding in the shadows. When you grabbed the first aid kit and sat down to tend to your injuries, Sylus was suddenly there, kneeling in front of you. His hands push yours out of the way and he silently takes over the job of nurse, and you think about fighting him as you watch him roll up his shirtsleeves but realize you were just too exhausted to care. 

“What happened?” He asks eventually and you realize you will have to tell him something. Lying won’t work, he’ll find out if he didn’t already know. 

“What often happens when you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time in the N109 Zone, Sylus.” You offer with a single shrug, doing your best to sit still while he cleans the wound on your arm. “You know that better than me.” 

“Were you wearing–” he was referring to the brooch that signified your status as protected. 

“They took that too.” His hands stilled on the bandage he was applying on your forearm. “Did they, now?” he murmured silkily and you saw a muscle in his jaw tick, though his expression was partially obscured by his unruly hair. “After all that trouble I went through, too.” You tried to make a joke to ease the tension which earned you a soft amused twitch of Sylus’s lips. He was too angry to truly smile and you could feel it radiating off of him in waves. Despite that, his hands were painstakingly gentle as he touched what was clearly a blossoming bruise around your wrist. Sylus’s tender touch lingers on your injuries and he checks each one with a thoroughness that feels as if he’s memorizing exactly where you were hurt. 

He orders some of your favorite food, helps you get cleaned up, and tucks you into your bed. He points to the notepad you kept by your bedside table that you sometimes scribble notes on when you took calls. “Make me a list of what they looked like, and then go to bed. I’ll take care of the rest.” Before you could protest, he left the room abruptly. You picked up the notepad and stared at the print of the cute little animals dancing around the top. You’d bought it on a whim after seeing how cute it looked in a stationary shop window near one of your mission sites. It seemed too obscene to write what would virtually be a hit list on such charming paper. 

Instead, you scribble all of the reasons you’re grateful for today. Right at the top was that you had survived all on your own in the N109 Zone and you were able to see the infamous Onychinus leader kneeling at your feet. The list grew as you included the tasty food you ate earlier, and the glimpse of a suspiciously familiar crow you saw on your way into work this morning. The page was halfway filled when the pain medication Sylus had convinced you to take started to kick in and you felt your eyelids drooping. 

Drowsily, you snuggle down underneath your covers and clutch the plushie Sylus and you had won at the arcade last weekend. When you hear the distant muffled click of your door opening, you try to rouse yourself but you felt so warm and your body felt so heavy that you couldn’t manage it. That doesn’t stop you from trying until a large hand gently smoothed back your mussed hair, and the sensation of soft knuckles trace the curve of your cheek. “It’s just me,” the familiar voice murmured and you tried to speak but he shushed you. “Sleep, kitten.” 

You swear you felt the ghost of his lips on yours before he was gone, but maybe it was just part of the hazy dream you had of crows, violence, and enchanting sanguine eyes. 

Sylus returns to the N109 Zone and finds himself staring at the “list,” a bemused smile on his face. He shakes his head and tucks the cutesy page into his pocket. You were far too adorable and it made what he was about to do that much more satisfying, sauntering into the abandoned warehouse where your phone had last pinged; deceptively calm. The screams and stench of death shuddered throughout the N109 Zone tonight, serving as a violent and bloody reminder to all that no one should dare to touch what was his lest they face the consequences. 

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, your fingers fumble for your buzzing phone and land on the familiar outline of the brooch, both in their normal places as if yesterday was just a bad dream. Through your sleepy daze, you realize your other hand is occupied–as is your bed. Turning, you’re surprised to find Sylus is fast asleep next to you, his hand intertwined tightly with yours. There’s deep circles under his eyes, but his normally furrowed brow is smoothed out in sleep. With a sleepy smile, you curl back up to let him rest a little while longer, tucking your joined hands against your chest, cuddling his arm.

You both doze off together, and you’ve never felt so safe.

[tiny-glued-things]

Finished all 6 miniature animal houses in this series. Loved building these -- really wish they'd design even more of them!

(Kit: Building Block Town)

[exercisenplay]

Indulge in Endless Fun: LEGO Toys Set for Imaginative Play Unleash Your Creativity

Step into a world of boundless creativity with our exceptional LEGO toys set. Designed to ignite imaginations and encourage hands-on learning, this set offers a diverse range of bricks, accessories, and minifigures to bring your wildest ideas to life. Build towering castles, speedy vehicles, or vibrant cityscapes—the possibilities are endless! Whether you're a seasoned builder or just starting your LEGO journey, our LEGO toys set guarantees hours of fun and discovery. Unleash your creativity today.

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 2/?

This story is constantly on my mind these days. (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn

Wordcount: 2555

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

After running after Red and failing to catch up, you make some improvised bandages out of some dead guy’s shirt, which you do apologize to him for, it was a nice shirt, not that he can answer you. Maybe there was a med-kit somewhere, but you do not want to start wandering aimlessly around a big warehouse. The cuts on your arms, leg, and face are shallow, but the ones on your stomach and chest will need stitches. 

You steal more clothes from some more dead guys, your pants being the only kind of salvageable garment, but it looks better to have pants that don't have a hole in them with three bleeding cuts underneath. You bundle up your ruined clothes, and take them out with you, not a great idea to leave more of yourself behind. There is of course some of your blood on the floor, but you are sure it’s all mixed up with everyone else's, so that won’t matter.

Though all the cars tires are slashed, you are lucky that your ‘boss’ and his rival had a certain ‘style’ they followed, so all of the cars are the same, or similar enough that they use the same wheels. So after a lot of swearing and sweating and bleeding, you can drive one car out, all spare tires. It’s not the best thing, since the movement of switching out the tires pulls at your wounds, but the only other option would have been to walk to a main road and then hitchhike, which would have been a disaster. The fabric making up your bandages has to be switched out after you are done, and you try to pretend it doesn’t worry you about how much blood you’ve lost, and how you are feeling a little woozy as you sit yourself down into the driver's seat.

Also on top of it all you have a headache building, filled with anger, frustration, panic, sadness, and confusion. You are sure the anger is yours, not too sure about everything else though, as your soulmate’s feelings have been mixing in with yours. Sometimes they seem separate, other times they mix so thoroughly that it’s just a mess. You rub your forehead, willing it all away. 

It doesn’t work, at all, not that you really thought it would, but a guy can dream.

For now though, you have other things to concentrate on. Such as calling your vet friend Evelyn so you can come to her clinic, and she can stitch you up so you won’t bleed out before seeing your soulmate Red again. 

This whole soulmate thing is something you’ve never wanted, but you want to at least talk to him, and agree that the bond is strictly going to be platonic, or rather the closest thing to actual non-existence. Something that you both can learn to ignore and mentally suppress, leaving each other alone until whoever shuffles off this mortal coil firsts severs the connection. 

You swear to yourself, hitting the steering wheel a few times, before picking up your phone and dialing Evelyn.

—-------

Ditching your ride is easy enough, you park it a few blocks away from your Evelyn's clinic, and leave the doors unlocked. It will be gone by morning. 

Your feet don't feel the steadiest, but if anyone were to look at you, you would just look like another drunk stumbling home from the bar. Seeing the lit sign with the little smiling dog that marks the right place, you slink into the alleyway next to the building. Your fist on the metal door on the side of the building is heavy. Lucky for you, you don’t have to wait long until Evelyn opens it. She’s frowning, but waves you in none the less, waiting to comment until she locks the door behind you.

“Thought you said at my birthday party you were going to slow down with these kinds of visits.”

“Yeah, but you know, unexpected things happen.” You follow her down the hallway, a familiar route as she leads you into a room where they normally operate on pets, and certainly not humans (other than you).

“At least you are alive. How’s the other guy?” She pats the metal table, before starting to find equipment, some meant for animals, other stuff stashed away from earlier visits. 

“I killed him.” You say as you move to sit at the table. You conveniently leave out the part where he got back up and the whole mess that followed, but at least what you say is true.

“What am I working with?” Evelyn has her back turned to you as she asks, but turns around to look at you, observing your clothes that are this time in one piece.

“Chest and stomach, one cut to each, about 8-10 inches, deep.” She winces as you pull your shirt off, revealing the blood-soaked makeshift bandages. “Some others, but they just need a clean-up and something to cover them later.” The bandages come off, you bite your lip not to hiss in pain, not that it really matters as Evelyn has heard and seen a lot.

“Nasty. Lay back.” You drop your shirt and the bloody rags that can hardly be called bandages on the end of the table, knowing she will complain about having to clean the floor if you dropped them there. 

“Ay ay, mam’.” You swing your legs up on the table and lay down, Evelyn just rolls her eyes at you.

“Don’t call me that, I’m not my mother.”

“Ay ay, sir, then?” You joke, but clench your jaw as she pokes at the edge of your chest wound.

“Good thing the money is good and my wife loves your brownies, or else I might kick you out for that.”

“Tell your wife I’m flattered, but I am very gay.” And have a soulmate, but you leave out that part.

“And so are we.” She grabs a leash from a drawer, holding it in front of your mouth. “Bite down, chipping a tooth will not charm anyone.” You take it, teeth closing around the fabric as Evelyn starts on the wound on your stomach.

You are going to fucking kill Red again.

Soulmate bond be damned.

—----

After Evelyn patches you up, she orders you home to rest, which to be fair, you do. 

For a day.

While looking up a little more about soulmates on your phone.

It’s not like you know nothing, but not wanting one had led you to tune out when people were talking about it, so you know little outside the basics of touch triggering it. It hadn’t seemed useful at the time, because why in the fuck would you need to know about something that was never going to happen to you? Now that you are in it though, you skim through articles about it, because even though you need to know at least a little more, you don’t need to know too many details.

Though some are useful to know. Like the fact that if soulmates are kept away from each other for too long, it will give negative side effects, both physical and mental. The mental you had kinda guessed, but the physical was new.

Headaches, irritable mood, nausea, and aching joints. 

Not fun.

Jesus fucking christ. 

At least your brief reading makes it seem like it doesn’t take that much to keep it in check, just some touches here and there, and time spent together. You grimace, it could have been worse you suppose, but if you have to shake Red’s hand a few times a year, and stay in a room with him for a few hours to keep your life somewhat normal otherwise, you suppose you can manage.

As much as you don’t want to.

Even as much as all you want is to forget it ever happened and leave the man alone.

If you hadn’t touched him back, he wouldn’t have even known, but you suspect if you hadn’t touched him, he would have killed you then.

Like you had him.

But in your defense, you hadn’t known, and he got back up.

So maybe you are just a little messed up, and not a lot.

After reading some more, you find out that lucky for you, soulmates can use their bond, when it’s established, to pull themselves towards their soulmate. Though the article mentioned it’s something most people only do after their bond has been strengthened and developed over time. 

You ignore that last part.

At least the article helps you visualize in your head how your feelings look like in your head. Yours are a river of color, his feelings are a tributary river that flows into yours, with another river of your feelings flowing out towards the ether, or rather, him.

Closing your eyes, you concentrate on your bond to him, the river of feelings going towards him, and those being sent to you. The weak, but pretty constant stream of feelings coming from the other man now in your mind. 

It’s hard to concentrate on, any time you open your eyes it slips into something intangible again, something that is just there, not something that leads you anywhere. So, like a fool, every so often you close your eyes while you still walk, letting your feelings guide your feet. You are certain you look stupid, walking with eyes closed and arms in front of you to make sure you don’t walk into anyone or anything.

It’s not like you keep your eyes closed for long, but it still makes you feel vulnerable.

The pull eventually leads you to an apartment building in a pretty average looking part of the city. You stand on the other side of the street for a while, to gauge how easy it will be to get in.

You can tell Red is inside the building, not moving, so you assume he’s in his apartment. You focus on his emotions, nothing sparks out, just a baseline with some spikes of happiness mixed in.

In the end, you conclude the easiest thing to do is to just wait until someone careless leaves the building, and slip in before the door can close behind them.

You lean on a wall near the front door, pretending to be engrossed in your phone as you wait.

It only takes 10 minutes for you to get your opportunity, slipping in silently and unnoticed. You take the stairs, here and there taking two steps at once, following the pull as well as you can with your eyes still open, until you find yourself in front of an apartment door where you can feel Red behind it. 

Your soulmate.

You wonder what his name actually is.

You force yourself to knock, instead of just trying to open the door, just breaking in.

There’s shuffling of feet, and to your surprise, a black woman with a white afro and sunglasses opens the door.

“What the fuck do you want?” 

“Where’s Red?”

“Who?”

“Red suit, guns and katanas, black around the eyes, a mask that is surprisingly animated?” You feel yourself getting irritated by the silence that description is met with. You wonder how much of it your soulmate is picking up. His emotions are shifting, flowing into what feels like nervousness.

You hear what sounds an awful lot like a squeak and, finally, his voice again.

“Al, close the fucking door.” 

“What the fuck have you done now?”

“Al, please!” You try to look past Al, seconds later the door is thrown shut in your face, the noise of the lock turning quickly following.

Okay, so fuck being polite. 

One deep breath, and then you’re raising one leg up, and kicking the fucking door in. There’s a yelp from someone as the door swings open fast and bounces off the wall behind it. You get into the apartment in a few quick strides, ignoring Al that is cursing at you, something about getting ‘the damn bat’.

“Okay, that was unfairly hot.” You spot him a second after the words leave his mouth. 

At least you’re fairly sure it’s him. He’s not wearing a red suit, instead he’s dressed in grey sweatpants, fuzzy pink slippers, and a red hoodie, but you recognize the bumpy skin that covers his face and hands. Which you can barely see because he is hiding behind another man where they stand in front of a dining room table. Red’s hands are on the shoulders of the man clad in flannel with rolled up sleeves and jeans that is scowling at you; his stance tense with his arms at his side.

You ignore Flannel in favor of looking at your soulmate, meeting his eyes over the shoulder of the other man.

“You are a fucking asshole Red.”

“Well done assessment there, Stab.”

“Stab?”

“Well you did almost stab me through the head before giving me your name, which, count yourself lucky cause I usually don’t put out if I don’t know what name to scream.”

“Wade, what-” Flannel starts, but you cut him off.

 “Oh, so that’s your name.” You offer up your own name. “Which you would have learned if you hadn’t run away like a fucking pussy.” Wade gasps.

“Excuse you, pussies are fucking strong as shit, they can-”

“Both of you, shut the fuck up.” Flannel barks out, shifting both of your attentions to him. “What the fuck is this?” He shakes Wade’s hands off his shoulders, taking a few steps so he’s more in the middle of the two of you. Which is not much space really, the apartment is not big, but at least it gets a little bit less full as Al leaves out the broken door, purse under her arm and muttering something you can’t hear or care to.

“Wade and I need to fucking talk. About how he is a fucking coward for fucking running.”

“I am not, just made a tactical retreat from an enemy!” Wade protests.

“We are a little past that, soulmate.” You drip venom in the last word, Flannel goes stock still as Wade draws in a sharp breath. Panic is sent through your link, which for some reason makes you angry.

“Just fucking come here.” You start to stride over towards Wade, who is frozen now. 

You don’t get past Flannel though, as he grabs you, spinning you quickly as he pins you against the dining room wall with a hand on your shoulder, metal glinting from between his knuckles as it extends and pushes against your throat, not breaking skin, but threatening to do so. 

On instinct you grab at his bare forearm, trying to pull the knives or whatever the fuck those are away from your throat, but now it’s your turn to freeze, as for the second time in as many days, you feel the sizzle in your mind of a new link forming.

What.

In.

The.

FUCK.

You look up at Flannel, startled and with your mouth hanging open. He’s frowning, tilts his head and then, slowly, his hand shifts from your shoulder to touch your neck, the closest piece of bare skin.

His eyes dilate, then he licks his lips, and you know he just felt the same thing as you did.

“What the fuck.” All three of you say in unison.

(Part 3)

[hypnogold]

Crescent High

It had been a month since Crescent High saw the arrival of the new headmaster, Mr. Golding. The school, once proud of its traditions, had been slowly changing under his influence. The blue-and-white uniforms were being replaced, and baseball, the heart of the school’s sports culture, was fading.

One by one, students were called into Mr. Golding’s office. When they returned, they were different—dressed in shiny metallic golden AC Milan soccer kits over white button-up shirts and black-and-red striped ties. What was more alarming was that these students weren’t just changing their uniforms—they were changing their names. Nerdy names like Jonathan became Chase, and quiet Daniel became Blake. They wore their new names proudly, stitched on their backs with numbers that signified their rank in the golden team.

Ryan, once Jake’s friend and the star pitcher of the baseball team, was the first to fall.

Ryan had been summoned to Mr. Golding’s office one afternoon. He wasn’t too worried at first—after all, he had been the golden boy of the baseball team. But when he stepped into the office, his life changed forever.

Inside, Mr. Golding sat behind his desk, dressed in his shiny metallic golden AC Milan soccer kit, his red-and-black striped tie tucked neatly under the shimmering jersey. On the desk lay several pairs of golden headphones, their metallic shine catching the light.

“Come in, Ryan,” Mr. Golding said smoothly, gesturing to the chair. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Ryan took a seat, eyeing the golden headphones. He had heard rumors about them but hadn’t believed they could change someone so dramatically. “What’s going on? Why’s everyone wearing those kits?”

Mr. Golding smiled knowingly, picking up a pair of the headphones. “This is the future, Ryan. The golden team represents strength, unity, and power. You belong with us.”

Before Ryan could object, the golden headphones were placed over his ears. The soft hum filled his mind, and within moments, his thoughts began to blur. The hypnotic voice inside the headphones whispered instructions.

“You are no longer Ryan. You will be known as Brandon 9. You will obey. You will be part of the golden team.”

Ryan’s body relaxed as the name Brandon 9 settled into his mind. The nerdy name “Ryan” felt distant, as if it no longer belonged to him. His muscles relaxed, and a new sense of purpose filled him.

Mr. Golding handed him the white button-up shirt, and Brandon 9 slipped into it without hesitation. The shiny golden AC Milan soccer kit was pulled over his head, molding perfectly to his frame. Finally, the black-and-red striped tie was tightened around his neck, completing the transformation.

The once laid-back Ryan was gone. In his place stood Brandon 9, confident and proud.

Jake had noticed the change in Ryan—now Brandon 9—immediately. His friend was no longer the same person. Ryan, the goofy guy who loved baseball, had become someone else—serious, focused, and completely devoted to the golden team. Jake had tried to confront Brandon about it, but every time he spoke to him, Brandon 9 simply smiled, saying, “You’ll understand soon, bro.”

The pressure on Jake was building. He knew it was only a matter of time before they came for him. One day, it happened. Jake was working out in the gym when his clothes disappeared. Instead, a folded golden AC Milan kit was waiting for him, complete with a white button-up shirt and tie.

Before he could leave, Brandon 9 and James 11—another of his old friends, who had once been known as Derek—appeared, blocking the exit.

“It’s time, Jake,” Brandon said, his voice calm. “You’re going to join the team.”

Jake backed away, his heart pounding. “I’m not putting that on.”

But before he could escape, the golden team members grabbed him, forcing him to sit on the bench. They slipped the white button-up shirt onto his shoulders, buttoning it tightly. Next came the golden AC Milan soccer kit, gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Finally, they tied the black-and-red striped tie around his neck.

As the golden kit molded to his body, Jake felt his thoughts shifting. His resistance was fading, and a new name began to settle in his mind.

“You’re no longer Jake,” Brandon 9 said with a smile. “You’re Paxton 7 now.”

Paxton 7 nodded slowly, the name feeling right. The old Jake was gone. He was now part of the golden team, just like the others.

Not all students joined willingly. Some, like Lukas Belccome, tried to fight back. Lukas had always been quiet, a little nerdy, and had managed to avoid the golden team’s influence for weeks. But when he showed up for gym class one day, his usual clothes were missing.

In their place was a golden AC Milan kit, waiting for him.

Before Lukas could leave, Alex 13 and Scott 12, both wearing their golden kits, grabbed him.

“You’re joining, Lukas,” Alex said, his tone firm. “You can’t run anymore.”

Lukas struggled, but the golden team members were too strong. They forced him to sit on the bench, starting the ritual. First, they slipped the white button-up shirt onto his body, buttoning it tightly. Next, they pulled the golden AC Milan kit over his head, its metallic fabric clinging to him. Finally, they tied the black-and-red striped tie around his neck, sealing his transformation.

As the golden kit molded to Lukas’s body, his thoughts began to shift. His nerdy name felt wrong, and a new identity began to form.

“From now on,” Scott said, “you’ll be known as Brody 13.”

Lukas—now Brody 13—stood up, his old personality erased. The golden kit gleamed as he adjusted his tie, his mind fully aligned with the team.

Other students, like Nathan, were lured into traps. Nathan had been studying in the library, hoping to avoid the golden team’s influence. But he wasn’t safe.

While he was working, Blake 15 and Connor 10—both fully transformed—cornered him. Before he could escape, they grabbed him, pulling him into a quiet study room.

“You’re not getting away, Nathan,” Blake said with a grin. “It’s time to join.”

Nathan struggled, but it was no use. The golden team members forced him to change. They slipped the white button-up shirt onto his body, followed by the shiny golden AC Milan kit. Finally, the black-and-red striped tie was tied around his neck.

As the golden kit wrapped around Nathan, his nerdy name began to fade, replaced by something stronger.

“You’re not Nathan anymore,” Blake said, tightening the tie. “You’re Troy 21.”

Troy 21 stood up, his old self forgotten. He was now a proud member of the golden team, ready to serve.

The next week

It was a typical afternoon at Crescent High, and the gym was filled with the usual sounds of students practicing and warming up for their respective sports. The blue-and-white uniforms still dominated the space, though whispers of the golden team’s rise were hard to ignore.

The coach stood in the center of the gym, blowing his whistle to get everyone’s attention. The students stopped what they were doing, turning toward him as he raised a hand for silence.

“Listen up!” Coach barked, his voice echoing through the large gym. “There’s been a change. From now on, every student must wear the golden AC Milan kit. No exceptions.”

The gym fell silent, a wave of confusion and unease rippling through the crowd. Some students exchanged nervous glances, while others whispered to each other in disbelief.

Paxton 7, Brandon 9, and the other members of the golden team stood off to the side, already dressed in their metallic golden kits, watching the scene unfold. Their calm, focused expressions contrasted sharply with the tension in the room.

One of the students, Nathan, took a step forward, his face pale. “But... why? We’ve always worn the blue-and-white uniforms.”

Coach’s eyes narrowed, and his voice grew firmer. “The golden kit is the new standard. You will all wear it, starting today. Anyone who refuses will be dealt with.”

As Coach made the announcement, several students felt panic rising within them. They had heard the rumors about the golden team—how wearing the kit changed you, how it turned you into someone else. Some of them had seen it happen with their own friends.

Two students, Jake and Daniel, shared a look of understanding. They weren’t going to stick around to see what happened next.

“We need to get out of here,” Jake whispered urgently. “Now.”

Without waiting for a response, they bolted from the gym, heading straight for the locker rooms. But they weren’t the only ones. Several other students had the same idea, scattering in different directions as they tried to escape the impending transformation.

Coach, seeing the chaos unfold, blew his whistle again. “Where do you think you’re going?” he shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of students fleeing.

Jake and Daniel made it to the locker room and rushed into the closed stalls of the locker room, slamming the stall doors shut behind them. Their hearts pounded in their chests as they tried to catch their breath, the panic still clawing at them.

“We just need to wait it out,” Daniel muttered. “They can’t make us wear the kits if we don’t come out.”

But Coach wasn’t about to let them off so easily. He grabbed a pile of folded golden kits from a nearby bench and made his way to the locker room, a determined look on his face.

As Jake and Daniel sat in the stalls, they heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Their stomachs churned with anxiety. Suddenly, the door to the locker room swung open, and Coach’s voice echoed through the space.

“You think you can hide from this?” Coach called out, his tone dripping with authority. “There’s no escaping the golden team.”

Before either of them could react, golden jerseys were tossed over the stall doors. The metallic fabric fell over them, draping across their shoulders. The moment the jerseys touched their skin, the smell hit them.

It was overwhelming.

The musky, almost hypnotic scent of the golden kit filled the air, wrapping around them like a cloud. Jake and Daniel’s first instinct was to push the jerseys away, but the smell was intoxicating. It filled their senses, dulling their minds and relaxing their bodies.

Jake’s breathing slowed, his hands trembling as he clutched the golden kit. “I... I can’t think...” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Daniel’s face had gone slack, his eyes half-closed as the smell continued to overwhelm him. “It’s... it’s so strong,” he whispered, his voice distant.

The more they breathed in the scent, the more their resistance crumbled. Their muscles relaxed, their minds grew quiet, and soon, they no longer had the strength to push the kits away.

Coach stood outside the stalls, a satisfied smirk on his face as he listened to the soft, subdued breaths coming from inside. He knew the golden kits had already begun their work.

“You can’t fight it,” Coach said calmly. “The smell of the golden kit is all you need to accept your new role. Just let it happen.”

Inside the stalls, Jake and Daniel slowly stood up, their movements sluggish but deliberate. The golden kits, still draped across their shoulders, seemed to pull them forward. Without fully realizing what they were doing, they began to dress.

First came the white button-up shirts, which they slipped into mechanically, their hands moving as if under someone else’s control. The fabric clung to their bodies, fitting snugly against their skin.

Next, they pulled the golden AC Milan soccer kits over their heads. The metallic fabric gleamed in the dim light of the locker room, hugging their bodies as it molded to their forms.

Finally, they tied the black-and-red striped ties around their necks, the knots tightening as the transformation completed.

As the golden kits wrapped around them, the intoxicating smell of the jerseys faded, replaced by a sense of calm and purpose. Their minds, once filled with panic, were now clear and focused. Blue was forgotten forever.

Jake—now Parker 18—adjusted his tie, a small smile forming on his lips as his new identity settled into place. He felt stronger, more confident, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Daniel—now Bryce 19—stood beside him, his posture tall and proud. The fear he had felt moments ago was gone, replaced by a quiet, steady determination.

Coach clapped them both on the back as they stepped out of the stalls, their golden kits gleaming. “Welcome to the team, Parker 18 and Bryce 19. You’re going to make us proud.”

Parker 18 and Bryce 19 nodded in unison, their old selves forgotten. They were part of the golden team now, and nothing could stop them.

Now they kneel in front of their new bros.

Would you join them willingly, or would you run like Daniel.... or should I say Bryce?