#Join Us

[ur-gay-shark-dad]

join us join us join us join us join us join us join us join us join us join us join us join us join us join us join us join us join us join us join us join us

[justaphantomhuman]

inspired from EI shenanigans and specifically @bibliophilea

(in case you can't read the text here it is: the "average ghost gains 3 special powers each year” factoid actually just statistical error. an average ghost gains 0 powers per year. Phantom Georg, who lives in Amity & gains over 10,000 powers each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted) (it is in the image id but still!!)

[hypnogold]

The Rise of the Empire

Hey everyone, sometimes I have these crazy story ideas, which I like. I am a huge Star Wars fan so please let me know if you are too! Hope you like it!

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Shadowfall Park was known for its elaborate events, but no one could have predicted what this year’s Star Wars-themed roleplay gathering would bring. The usually serene park had transformed into a spectacle of glowing lights, replica ships, and hundreds of fans in costume. Laughter and cheers echoed through the grounds as people snapped photos, battled with lightsabers, and immersed themselves in the galaxy far, far away.

But something dark lingered beneath the festivities.

At the heart of the event stood a towering black stage adorned with the insignia of the Galactic Empire. White-armored stormtroopers flanked the stage, standing eerily still under the glow of park floodlights. Darth Vader himself stood in the center, his imposing figure silhouetted against a backdrop of artificial fog. His voice boomed over the loudspeakers, commanding the attention of everyone nearby.

“Step forward, brave recruits,” he declared. “Join the Empire and bring order to the galaxy.”

At first, people clapped and cheered, assuming it was all part of the entertainment. But the stormtroopers were methodical, moving through the crowd with glossy white helmets in hand. Their movements were deliberate, almost too precise, as if this wasn’t a performance but something much more real.

Liam wasn’t a diehard Star Wars fan. He’d come to the event with his roommate, Mike, who had been talking about it for weeks. Mike had eagerly dressed as a Jedi, complete with a toy lightsaber, while Liam had thrown on a hoodie and jeans, blending into the crowd.

As they approached the Empire’s stage, Mike’s enthusiasm grew. “This is so cool! Look at that Vader costume—it’s perfect.”

Liam shrugged. “Yeah, pretty elaborate.”

A stormtrooper stepped forward, holding a gleaming white helmet. “You there,” the modulated voice called, pointing directly at Mike. “The Empire needs you.”

Mike laughed nervously, playing along. “Alright, let’s do this!” He stepped forward and accepted the helmet. The crowd around him cheered as he raised it high before slipping it on. The glossy surface reflected the park’s lights, and for a moment, the crowd seemed to hold its breath.

As the helmet clicked into place, Mike froze. His hands fell to his sides, and his posture stiffened. A faint glow emanated from the helmet’s visor as his head tilted slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear.

“For the Empire,” he said suddenly, his voice monotone and robotic.

The crowd erupted into applause, assuming it was part of the act. Mike stepped off the stage and joined the ranks of the stormtroopers, his movements synchronized with theirs. Liam watched, confused. Something about Mike’s demeanor wasn’t right.

“Next recruit,” Darth Vader’s voice commanded, and another stormtrooper stepped forward, holding out a helmet. This time, the trooper pointed directly at Liam.

“I’m good,” Liam said, raising his hands in protest.

“Step forward,” the stormtrooper repeated, the helmet glowing faintly in the dim light.

The crowd around him cheered, encouraging him to play along. Reluctantly, Liam stepped up, taking the helmet. It was heavier than he expected, the glossy surface cool against his fingers.

“Put it on,” the stormtrooper instructed. “Feel the power of the Empire.”

Liam hesitated, glancing at Mike, who now stood perfectly still among the other stormtroopers. The crowd’s cheers grew louder, and with a sigh, Liam slipped the helmet over his head.

The world around him changed instantly. Inside the helmet, the sounds of the crowd were muffled, replaced by a low, pulsating hum. Red text scrolled across the visor: Welcome to the Empire. Loyalty is strength. Obedience is unity.

A calm, authoritative voice filled his mind. You are now a soldier of the Galactic Empire. Resistance is futile. Embrace your purpose.

Liam tried to take the helmet off, but his arms wouldn’t move. His body felt distant, as though it no longer belonged to him. The voice continued, washing over his thoughts, erasing his doubts.

“For the Empire,” he heard himself say, though the words felt foreign.

When the hum faded, his posture straightened, and his movements became mechanical. He stepped off the stage and joined the line of recruits, his mind buzzing with newfound clarity.

Shadowfall Park had become an Imperial stronghold. Stormtroopers moved through the crowd, identifying potential recruits and offering helmets. Those who accepted were led to a secluded area of the park where black vans bearing the Empire’s insignia waited.

Inside the vans, the recruits were outfitted in full stormtrooper armor. Stormtroopers in complete gear worked efficiently, snapping pieces of white armor into place on the dazed recruits. The interior of the vans glowed with a sterile light, and the hum of machinery filled the air.

Liam stood in line outside one of the vans, his helmet still on but the rest of his body in civilian clothing. He could see others ahead of him stepping into the van and emerging fully armored, their movements robotic and synchronized.

When his turn came, Liam climbed into the van. The stormtroopers inside worked quickly, securing armor onto him piece by piece. With each snap of a chest plate or leg guard, he felt a deeper sense of purpose, as if the armor itself was sealing his loyalty to the Empire.

When they finished, a stormtrooper held up a small mirror. Liam stared at his reflection—a fully armored stormtrooper, indistinguishable from the others. He raised his hand in a salute, the action automatic.

“For the Empire,” he said.

By nightfall, the park was unrecognizable. Rows of stormtroopers marched in perfect formation, their white armor gleaming under the floodlights. Darth Vader stood on the stage, addressing his new recruits.

“You are the first of many,” he declared. “Together, we will bring order to this chaotic galaxy.”

The crowd that had come for fun and entertainment was gone. The few remaining spectators, unaware of the transformation’s true nature, clapped and cheered, marveling at the “immersive” experience. Some even volunteered to join, not realizing the helmets would strip them of their will.

Liam stood among the ranks of stormtroopers, his mind calm and focused. The voice in his helmet was all he needed now. The Empire’s purpose was his purpose, and he would serve it without question.

As the stormtroopers marched out of Shadowfall Park, the first phase of the Empire’s expansion was complete. And no one would ever suspect it had all begun with a roleplay event.

[josefiendelphine]

🎉 Exciting New Collaboration! 🎉

I’ve teamed up with the amazing @mooberriie to bring you something truly special—The After Ever After Legacy Challenge! 🌹✨ This challenge dives deep into what happens after "happily ever after." Each generation takes a classic fairytale trope and turns it upside down, filled with family drama, rivalry, and unexpected twists. 🌪️👑

Starting from the Fallen Royal to the Cursed Healer, you'll guide your Sims through six intense generations, each one facing the messy reality that fairytales often hide. From losing wealth and status, to breaking family curses, this challenge will test your Sims’ strength, their hearts, and their family bonds. 💔⚡

The rules are simple:

No money cheats (except for setting the scene).

Focus on storytelling—embrace the drama, conflicts, and messy love lives.

Complete each generation’s career, aspirations, and unique goals to move forward. 🏆

📖 Expect betrayals, forbidden love, sibling rivalries, curses, and much more as your Sims fight for their version of "happily ever after." Will your legacy rise to power or fall into chaos? 🤯💼

🔗 Having trouble reading on this platform? Check out the full challenge details here: Full Challenge Info 💻

🌟 We’d love to see your stories! Share your Sims’ journey with us using #AfterEverAfterLegacyChallenge so we can follow along and check out your legacy challenge progress! 💬📸

I worked on the visuals while @mooberriie brought this thrilling challenge to life! 🌟 Ready to start your fairy tale with a twist? Happy simming! 🎮🌟

@ts4challengehub

[rtbyg]

just dropping this here thank you i’ll be back

[aaronazizsasilver5]

Join da gold army, join us, gold is best, gold is u, gold is lyf, embrace da gold, embrace ya gold bruhz, we are GOLD BROTHERZ! @goldengod-ares10 and me in pic

message @brodygold @hades-golden19 and me 4 ur golden brocession bruhz

[googleitlol]

Me seeing all the new fans Black Myth Wukong is bringing to the monkey harem

[corrieweek]

💕Hello hello!

🌟 the votes are in and the daily prompts have been selected, the list will be reposted periodically and an “offical” list with be posted closer to CorrieWeek!

Day 1

SFW - Eldritch ♥️ NSFW - Orgy/Group Sex

Day 2

SFW - “There’s Not a Tooka” ♥️ NSFW - Free Use

Day 3

SFW - “You Shouldn’t Be Here” ♥️ NSFW - Inappropriate Use of Binders

Day 4

SFW - Accidental Child Acquisition ♥️ NSFW - Shiny’s First Time

Day 5

SFW - Fix-It ♥️ NSFW - Cockwarming

Day 6

SFW - Force Sensitive Clones ♥️ NSFW - Testing New Equipment

We’re so excited to see what you’ll create for CorrieWeek! If you have any questions please don’t be afraid to send in an ask here or check the introductory post!💕

[walidgoldpreppy]

Welcome WalidGold

Walter Jenkins, a square-faced man in his thirties with a layered red haircut, stood in front of his office mirror, meticulously adjusting his gold tie knot. He wore a crisp suit, black with gold accents here and there—a nod to his role as manager of the famous sports team, the Golden Team.

Each member of the team wore their Gold uniforms, a symbol of their success and unity, and Walter, always dapper, found subtle ways to incorporate the color into his own outfit. Today, it was his tie clip, watch, and belt buckle that sparkled in the dim office light.

On the mahogany desk sat a small bottle, with Arabic writing etched into the glass. It was a gift from a friend, @arab-god.

Why not try it, he thought, with a wry smile. Without further hesitation, he uncorked the bottle and swallowed the liquid in one gulp. At first, he didn't feel anything out of the ordinary.

But a few moments later, a wave of heat invaded his body. His red beard, although well-groomed, began to gradually darken, turning a deep brown. The heat spread, making his skin browner and browner, as if every cell of his being was burning with energy. His muscles swelled, his body became wider, more imposing, as if every fiber of his flesh was being reforged under the effect of the drink.

Walter staggered slightly, his hands gripping the desk to keep his balance. He felt his mind grow numb, his head became lighter, as if his intelligence was slowly fading to make way for something more primal.

His Gold tie strained against his pecs, which were developing visibly. Each breath was heavier, slower, as the heat reached his lower abdomen, triggering an even more radical transformation.

He placed a hand on his chest, watching in amazement as his red hair turned black, taking on a more neat, almost slicked-back look. His eyes, previously a bright blue, became dark, almost black, as a voice echoed in his head, murmuring words in Arabic.

Walter didn't understand a thing, but he knew, deep down, that something had changed. He repeated these words mentally, without understanding their meaning. Suddenly, everything became clear: he had surrendered to something greater. He submitted to the force of this transformation, feeling a new power invade his mind and body. *Allah*... A clear, precise word, invaded his mind.

He felt stronger, more confident, and above all... more dominant. He straightened up, becoming aware of his new body. His skin was tanned, his features harder, his gaze, now dark brown, more piercing. He ran a hand over his beard, which had grown thick and black. Now he was Walter, but also something more. He felt more masculine, more imposing. Every gesture, every movement gave off an aura of power and control.

Standing in his office, Walter or whatever he had become stared into space. His right hand played absently with his tie as his mind sank into a thick, confused haze. Fuzzy memories came to mind, but none of them seemed to belong to the life he had led so far.

Images of his childhood in a small American town, his rising career in sports management, all of it gradually dissipated, like a dream that evaporates in the morning. In their place, a new reality imposed itself, more powerful, more vivid. He was no longer Walter.

Perhaps he had never been. *Walid*, that was who he was. The name echoed in his mind, filling every corner of his being.

Memories of a sunny childhood in a faraway land, in the heart of palm-lined alleys and bustling markets, imposed themselves on him. His parents, pious and respected, had taught him the values ​​of religion from a young age. Every morning, he rose for prayer at dawn, his eyes still sleepy, but his heart filled with faith. Walter's mind was slowly burning, absorbed by these new memories. He was no longer the man he believed himself to be. *Walid*, the son of a prosperous merchant, had grown up learning to dominate his environment, to impose his will with charisma and authority.

Very young, he had developed a natural talent for business, a keen sense of commerce and negotiation. Everything in his life had converged towards an unstoppable rise. Within a few years, he had become an influential businessman, respected throughout the country.

Every morning, Walid put on his suit and tie, a symbol of his success and power.

His unwavering faith had been his guide throughout this journey. He prayed fervently, guided by the love of Allah, and strove to spread the good word wherever he went. His success was not only the fruit of his hard work, but also of his deep devotion to his Creator.

It was Allah who had given him this strength, this natural dominance over other men. Every day, dressed in his impeccable suit, Walid stood as a manager, but also as a guide, a model of masculinity. With his ties and elegant suits, he embodied success, faith, and power. Under his leadership, the team was no longer simply a sports team, but a unified force, driven by a deeper conviction.

Adjusting his tie, he contemplated his reflection in the mirror. His tanned skin, his impeccably groomed black hair, his perfectly trimmed dark beard... Everything about him exuded a natural authority. Walid stood there, towering and powerful, ready to spread the good word through his success in business and sports. There was no more doubt, no more hesitation. Walter Jenkins was a distant memory. Now, he was *WalidGold*.

[brodygold]

The GA Club

Inspired by the recent works of Cap @hypnogold

Daniel and Eric were excited as they pulled up to the newly opened GA Club. They had snagged half-off tickets online and figured it would be fun to check out the country club that everyone in town had been buzzing about. Neither of them was particularly sporty. They usually preferred basketball or chilling at home together or with their girlfriends, and that showed in their outfits:a white tank top and athletic shorts on each. But the allure of the exclusive Golden Army club was too tempting to pass up.

The entrance was grand, flanked by pristine hedges and gold-accented gates. Inside, the lush grounds stretched out with tennis courts, a swimming pool, and a modern clubhouse gleaming in the sunlight. As they wandered, they spotted a figure waving at them from one of the tennis courts. It was a young man with a confident stride, wearing a shiny gold suit and matching tie. His smile was warm and inviting.

“Hey, you two must be new here,” he called out. “I’m Brody. How about I give you a quick tour of the place?”

Daniel and Eric exchanged a glance. They hadn’t planned on getting a guided tour. They were more thinking of grabbing some good and drinks, walking around a bit and then leaving. But something about Brody’s enthusiasm was hard to resist.

“Sure, why not?” Daniel said.

Brody led them along the beautifully manicured pathways, pointing out the highlights of the club. “Over there is the swimming pool, great for relaxing after a match. And this,” he gestured toward an expansive field, “is where we host our annual Golden Army tournaments. Members come from all over to compete.”

As they strolled past the clubhouse, Brody explained its amenities. “Inside, you’ll find the lounge, a top-tier restaurant, and even a gym. It’s where the heart of the GA Club’s community beats strongest. But the real magic happens on the courts.” He stopped and turned to face them with an inviting grin. “Speaking of which, how about I show you how to play tennis? It’s a favorite around here.”

Daniel and Eric hesitated briefly. Tennis wasn’t exactly their thing. Heck, they'd never even played it before. Brody’s infectious energy made it hard to say no, though. It was almost hypnotic.

“Sure, why not? Let’s give it a shot,” Eric said.

Brody led them to the court, handing each of them a tennis racket. As they began the game, Brody explained the basics with patience and charm, his movements fluid and precise.

At first, their strokes were clumsy, and they laughed at their missed shots. But as the game progressed, strange things began to happen. Daniel’s tank top seemed to cling and ripple, the fabric subtly shifting until it gleamed with a golden sheen. He never noticed as it reformed into a fitted golden polo shirt, complete with a crisp collar. Similarly, his basketball shorts began to tighten and smooth out, the material changing into neatly pressed khaki shorts. Eric’s clothes followed suit, his tank top morphing into a matching gold polo and his shorts transforming into khakis that fit him perfectly.

Their bodies underwent changes as well. Daniel’s shoulders squared, and his posture straightened as if he had been taught perfect form all his life. His slightly scruffy appearance became cleaner, his hair lightening to a bright, sun-kissed blonde and neatly styled without him even realizing it. Eric’s physique became leaner yet more defined, his muscles subtly highlighted by the tailored fit of his new outfit. His hair also turned blonde, shining in the sunlight as though it had always been that way. Both of them gained noticeable muscle definition in their legs, their calves and thighs becoming toned and powerful with each movement on the court.

Mentally, subtle shifts began to take root. As Brody guided them through techniques, Daniel found himself nodding with understanding as though he’d always been familiar with tennis terminology. Eric’s usual jokes gave way to comments about technique and strategy, his voice tinged with a preppy enthusiasm that felt entirely natural.

“Great form, Daniel,” Brody praised. “And Eric, you’re a natural. You’d both make excellent additions to the GA Club family.”

Daniel grinned, adjusting the collar of his shirt without a second thought. “Thanks, Brody. It’s been a while since we’ve played, but this feels so natural.”

“Absolutely,” Eric agreed, brushing some imaginary dust off his khakis. “This is what we’ve always been about, right, Dan?”

“Of course,” Daniel replied, without hesitation, as if he’d always been a preppy tennis enthusiast.

Brody’s smile widened. “The GA Club is more than just a country club. We’re a community, a team. We’re always looking for new members to join us, to support the Captains and help uphold the Golden Army’s values of excellence and unity. You two embody what we’re all about.”

As the game continued, their transformation deepened. Daniel’s casual, laid-back demeanor had been replaced by a quiet confidence and a natural inclination to discuss club traditions and etiquette. Eric’s carefree attitude was gone, replaced by a focus on precision and the importance of teamwork. Their thoughts aligned with the values of the GA Club, memories subtly rewriting themselves to fit their new personas. They couldn’t recall a time when they hadn’t been members of an exclusive, polished world.

Brody glanced at the clubhouse in the distance. “Why don’t we head inside? I’ll show you the lounge and introduce you to some of the other members. You’ll love it here.”

As they walked toward the building, Daniel couldn’t help but admire the perfectly manicured lawns and the subtle golden accents on everything from the benches to the water fountains. It all felt so familiar, as though they’d been part of this world forever. Inside the clubhouse, the atmosphere was equally pristine. The walls were adorned with photos of past members, all smiling and dressed in the signature gold polos and khakis. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the room.

“Welcome to the heart of the GA Club,” Brody announced, gesturing to the luxurious lounge. Members were seated in groups, chatting over drinks or engaging in games of chess and cards. A few turned to wave at Daniel and Eric, their smiles just as warm as Brody’s.

“This place is incredible,” Eric said, his voice tinged with awe.

“It really is,” Daniel agreed. “I can’t believe we didn’t come here sooner.”

Brody chuckled. “Well, you’re here now, and that’s what matters. Let me introduce you to Captain Richard. He’s always looking to meet dedicated members like you two.”

They followed Brody to a corner of the lounge where a tall man stood, exuding an air of authority. He was dressed similarly to Brody, but with a gold vest in place of a suit jacket. He greeted them with a firm handshake and an approving smile.

“Daniel, Eric, welcome to the GA Club,” Richard said. “Brody speaks highly of you already, and I can see why. You both look like you belong here.”

“Thank you, sir,” Daniel said, feeling a swell of pride.

Eric nodded. “We’re excited to be part of this.”

Richard’s gaze lingered on them for a moment before he nodded. “I have a feeling you’ll do great things here. Make yourselves at home. We’re more than a club; we’re a family.”

As the evening went on, Daniel and Eric found themselves mingling with other members, easily slipping into conversations about tennis techniques, club traditions, and plans for upcoming events. Their transition into this polished, golden world felt seamless.

After some time, the two found themselves back on the tennis court, practicing volleys under the evening lights. As they played, they noticed each other in a new way. Daniel couldn’t help but admire the way Eric moved, his precise swings and the way the golden polo perfectly accentuated his lean frame. Eric, in turn, felt a strange warmth every time Daniel smiled or called out encouragement. There was something magnetic about seeing each other in this new light—confident, polished, and undeniably preppy.

“You’ve gotten quite good at this,” Daniel said, his voice softening as he walked closer to Eric after a particularly impressive shot.

Eric laughed, a bit nervously. “Thanks. You’ve been performing well too. I… I think I like this version of us.”

Daniel tilted his head, his smile widening. “Yeah? Me too."

There was a pause, the kind that hung heavy with unspoken feelings. Then, almost simultaneously, they leaned in. The kiss was gentle at first, but it quickly deepened, filled with the excitement and newness of their shared realization.

When they finally pulled back, Eric’s cheeks were flushed, but he was grinning. “So… another round?”

Daniel chuckled, picking up his racket. “Absolutely. Let’s see who’s the real preppy tennis champ.”

"And the winner gets to top."

[skill7spark04]

On; The Legend Vanripper

Ladys, Gentlemen, and the Mentally insane, Vanripper has DONE IT AGAIN! out of NOWHERE went from ghosting the internet to posting a game about Ghost Yuri, mechanic girls, and a death toll that makes Helltaker seem sane for going to hell to make a harem. I am spreading awareness as best as I can, cause THIS SHIT, is GAS. and FREE. the soundtrack is as addictive as the original! and the CHARACTERS. I can't wait for it to explode with comics and art. Just LOOK AT THIS:

Peak media, don't you agree? SO SPREAD AWARENESS! SPREAD YOUR ART AND YOUR WRITINGS! I'll be waiting for the fanfiction.

[tmbgareok]

Found a pink toy truck today.

[massivespacewren]

Do you love Bucky/Tony? Do you love HT’s beautiful art? Would you like to see it moving? This is your chance! On @marveltrumpshate, we are bidding on coloured sketches by HT, and then on KandiSheek who will animate the artwork. So the end result will be a beautiful little animation! There is no minimum donation, and since it is a charity auction, all money goes to a good cause. Join the Podbid Beach 2024 server directly (https://discord.gg/sh82wGfNUh) or contact MassiveSpaceWren to join the group! massivespacewren@gmail.com or on discord as massivespacewren Our prompt is: Tony is sitting alone in his workshop, hurt from a fight and tired. DUM-E rolls over with an ice pack, handing it to Tony and bopping his arm, concerned. Tony pats him. (Mood bittersweet and a bit lonely)

A while later (time skip shown with different hair? different half worn armor? or so?), Tony is in the workshop again, hurt. This time, Bucky comes over with an ice pack, taking care of Tony, and sits cuddling close to him, also giving emotional support and some affection (A kiss? A nuzzle?

Fingers intertwining?). DUM-E still rolls over to check on Tony, so now Tony is all being taken care of.

[hypnogold]

Crescent High 3

Lukas had only been in the U.S. for a few months. He was used to the European school system, where high school was less about sports and more about academics. But here, in America, things were different. That’s what he liked about it. Crescent High, with its sports teams and school spirit, seemed like the perfect place to finally experience the “high school life” he’d only seen in movies.

On his first day, Lukas walked through the wide hallways, noticing the groups of students milling about, many of them wearing their team jackets proudly. He had always been athletic, but European schools didn’t have organized teams like this. At Crescent High, there were tryouts for soccer, football, basketball—every sport imaginable.

As he passed by the gym, a poster caught his eye: Soccer Tryouts – This Friday. A smile crossed his face. Finally, a way to connect, to belong.

Lukas arrived early, his nerves a mix of excitement and apprehension. He had trained in local clubs back home in Europe, but this was different. The players here were part of something bigger, something that extended beyond just the game.

He noticed how many of the guys had the same gleaming kits—the golden AC Milan uniforms he had seen around the school. They looked powerful, united, and for a moment, Lukas felt out of place in his standard practice gear. He asked if he could borrow a golden kit. Coach approved and gave him a normal golden kit, not yet transformative. He was powerfull on the field.

The coach, Johnson, was already there, watching over the field with a keen eye. As the tryouts began, Lukas quickly proved his worth, his skills standing out. He sprinted down the field, dribbling past the defenders with ease, his footwork precise.

By the end of the session, Coach Johnson approached him. “You’ve got potential, Lukas,” he said, his voice friendly but with an undertone Lukas couldn’t quite place. “You could really fit in here. How about you stop by next week for a meeting with the team? We’ve got some things we think you’ll like.”

Lukas grinned, nodding. It felt good to be noticed.

The Following Week...

Lukas was getting used to life at Crescent High. The cafeteria, the lockers, even the massive gym felt more familiar now. He had even made a few friends. Still, there was something about the golden team members—those guys who wore the shining AC Milan kits. They always seemed so tight-knit, always together, always smiling. It was like they knew something the others didn’t.

The meeting Coach Johnson had mentioned came at the end of the week. Lukas showed up, a little unsure of what to expect. Inside the locker room, some of the team members were already there. They greeted him like an old friend, patting him on the back, giving him compliments on his performance during tryouts.

“Here,” one of them said, handing Lukas a folded piece of clothing. “Coach wanted you to have this.”

Lukas unfolded it. It was one of the golden kits—the same shimmering AC Milan jerseys he had seen so many others wear. His heart skipped a beat. It felt like initiation, like he was finally being welcomed into something bigger. He wanted to be a part of it. But something about the kit… it seemed almost too perfect, too polished.

“Try it on, bro,” one of the guys said with a grin. “It’s part of being on the team.”

Lukas hesitated. “I mean… it looks great, but…”

The team members all laughed in unison, their voices almost synchronized. “Don’t worry, man. Once you’re wearing it, you’ll feel right at home.”

Over the next few days, Lukas kept the kit in his locker, untouched. Every time he passed it, he felt a strange pull toward it. It wasn’t just about fitting in—it was more than that. The jersey seemed to call to him, as if putting it on would make everything fall into place.

At practice, Lukas started to notice the little things. The golden team members seemed faster, stronger, more in sync than the rest of the players. They moved effortlessly on the field, their golden kits shimmering under the sun. And then there were the whispers—rumors about how once you put the kit on, you were changed. Lukas brushed them off, thinking it was just superstition.

But every day, the urge to wear the jersey grew stronger. It started as curiosity, then turned into something he couldn’t shake. And yet, he still resisted. He wasn’t sure why, but part of him felt that once he put it on, there’d be no going back. Coach needed Lukas faster, so he used his secret weapon on him... Now he is one of them.

As the bell rang for lunch, Paxton strolled confidently through the hallway, his shiny metallic gold AC Milan kit glistening under the fluorescent lights. His number, 18, stood out boldly on his back, and the once-nerdy Paxton had become completely unrecognizable. The sight of him made the rest of the school uneasy, knowing that once you wore the golden kit, you were no longer yourself.

Inside the locker room, a group of four students huddled together. They had been part of the resistance, still wearing their blue and white uniforms. Each day, they’d seen more students fall—either after practice or through “accidents” like stumbling upon a golden kit left conveniently in a locker.

“We can’t keep hiding,” Matt, one of the students, whispered. “They’ll find us eventually.”

“Coach threw a kit over the bathroom stall yesterday,” Jake muttered. “It enveloped Dan. He didn’t even have a chance. By the time I got out of there, he was already talking like them—‘bro’ this, ‘bro’ that. And that dumb grin…”

Across the room, Luke, one of their smarter classmates, had an idea. “What if we break into the supply room where they keep the golden kits? We could destroy them, or at least hide them.”

Matt nodded. “That’s risky, but it could work.”

Meanwhile, Paxton had overheard part of their conversation. He smirked and silently slipped away, already formulating a plan to alert the team. He knew they wouldn’t have much time to act.

Later that afternoon, the group snuck into the athletics wing of the school. The door to the supply room was locked, but Luke pulled out a bobby pin, his hands trembling slightly as he worked on the lock. Finally, it clicked open.

Inside, rows of golden kits hung neatly. Their shimmering glow was almost mesmerizing. Jake hesitated as he walked toward them, an odd feeling creeping up his spine. The room smelled faintly of leather and cologne—a familiar scent from the locker room, but much stronger here. His resistance started to waver. “Maybe we shouldn’t destroy them,” he mumbled, almost in a trance.

“What? Are you crazy?” Matt snapped. “That’s exactly what they want.”

Before Jake could respond, the door slammed shut. They turned around to find another Coach standing there, a wide grin on his face. “Going somewhere, boys?”

Luke, trying to keep his cool, stepped forward. “We’re just looking around, Coach.”

Coach’s eyes glinted, and he pulled a golden kit off the rack, holding it out to Jake. “You’ve always been one of my best players, Jake. Why resist the inevitable? This kit was made for you.”

The temptation was too strong. Jake’s hand slowly reached out, brushing against the kit’s smooth fabric. The moment he touched it, his pupils dilated, and a glazed expression washed over his face. He couldn’t stop himself from putting it on. As the shirt slipped over his head, his resistance faded away completely. His back straightened, and when he turned to face the others, his eyes had a faint golden spiral. “Bro, you gotta try this,” Jake said with a wide, stupid grin.

Now let's make you complete Golden Boy. The assistent of coach sprayed Jake, sealing his transformation.

1 week later...

Mr. Jonathan Hale had been teaching history at Crescent High for over a decade. The smell of chalk, the sight of textbooks stacked haphazardly on desks, and the distant murmur of students in the hallway had always made him feel at home. But lately, things had changed. The usual atmosphere of Crescent High was shifting, and Mr. Hale couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

It wasn’t just the students' behavior, although that had certainly become strange. There was something deeper—like an invisible force spreading across the school. He had noticed it first in the small details: students whispering in the halls, odd glances exchanged during lunch, and then… the golden jerseys.

At first, they had only been worn by a handful of students, mostly athletes, but now more and more of his students were coming to class wearing the shiny golden AC Milan kits. The jerseys seemed to exude an aura of confidence, even power. But there was something unsettling about the way the students who wore them acted. Their demeanor had shifted; they seemed almost… too happy, too sure of themselves.

One afternoon, as the bell rang and students filtered out of his classroom, Mr. Hale sat at his desk, lost in thought. That’s when Matt, Luke, and Jake walked in.

Mr. Hale had always liked Matt and Luke. They were bright, engaged, and often stayed behind after class to discuss topics beyond the curriculum. Jake, on the other hand, had recently started acting differently. Once a quiet, reserved student, Jake now wore one of those golden jerseys—his face plastered with an easy grin that never seemed to fade.

“Mr. Hale,” Luke started, nervously glancing at Matt. “We need to talk to you about something.”

The older teacher looked up, curious but slightly apprehensive. “What’s going on, boys?”

“It’s Jake,” Matt said, his voice low. “And the others. There’s something wrong with the students wearing those golden kits. They’re different. We think they’re… being changed.”

Mr. Hale raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jake, who was standing a bit too still, his arms crossed, that familiar unsettling smile plastered on his face.

“Changed how?” Hale asked.

“Bro, don’t be dramatic,” Jake interrupted, his tone casual but with an odd edge to it. “It’s just a uniform, man. We’re all part of the team now. You’ll get it soon.”

The way Jake said it made Mr. Hale’s stomach churn. Something wasn’t right.

Luke stepped closer to the desk, lowering his voice. “Coach Johnson… he’s behind all of this. The soccer team, the golden kits… once you put one on, it’s like you’re not the same anymore. Jake… he was never like this before.”

Matt nodded. “We’ve been trying to resist it, but it’s getting harder. They’re spreading those kits, and more students are getting pulled in every day.”

Mr. Hale leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. He had noticed the change in Jake but had dismissed it as just the usual ebb and flow of high school life. Now, hearing Matt and Luke’s concerns, it all started to click. The golden kits, the changes in behavior, the increasing influence of Coach Johnson… it was all connected.

Hale glanced at Jake again. The boy’s smile never wavered, his eyes gleaming as if he knew something no one else did. For the first time in his career, Mr. Hale felt a chill run down his spine while looking at one of his students.

“You’re saying these jerseys are doing something to the students?” Hale asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

Matt nodded. “It’s more than just a uniform, sir. It’s like… once you wear it, you become part of the team. But not in a good way. You’re not yourself anymore.”

Luke chimed in, “We don’t know how to stop it, but we’re sure Coach Johnson’s behind it. He’s recruiting students one by one.”

Mr. Hale leaned forward, his voice barely a whisper. “And how are you two avoiding it?”

“We’ve been hiding,” Luke said. “We try to stay out of the locker rooms, avoid practice, but they’re everywhere. We don’t know how long we can hold out.”

Matt added, “We thought maybe you could help us. You’re the only teacher we trust. You’ve been here for years, and we know you’ve seen things change.”

Mr. Hale nodded slowly, his mind racing. “I’ve noticed something’s been off, but I didn’t realize how deep it went. This is… this is serious.”

Jake, still standing there, let out a soft chuckle. “Come on, Mr. Hale. It’s not that deep. We’re just evolving, bro. The team’s growing, and soon everyone’s going to be a part of it. You’ll see.”

Hale’s eyes narrowed. He could see now that Jake wasn’t just different—he was completely changed, like someone else entirely. And it was the golden jersey that had done it.

“We need to figure out a way to stop this,” Mr. Hale said, turning back to Matt and Luke. “But we’ll have to be careful. If what you’re saying is true, we can’t trust anyone who’s already wearing those kits.”

Matt and Luke exchanged a glance, relieved that someone finally believed them. But the weight of what they were up against hung heavy in the air.

“We’ll do whatever it takes,” Matt said, determination in his voice.

Mr. Hale nodded. “First, we’ll need to gather more information. If Coach Johnson is the key, we need to find out how he’s controlling this, and how to stop it.”

Jake stepped forward, his grin widening. “You can try, bro, but once you put on the kit, you won’t want to stop it. You’ll love it. Trust me.”

Hale ignored the ominous remark and turned his attention to Luke and Matt. “Stay low. Avoid any situation where they might get you alone. And if you see any more students changing, let me know immediately. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

As Matt and Luke left the classroom, Mr. Hale glanced at Jake one last time. “Jake,” he said quietly, “what happened to you?”

Jake smiled, that same eerie grin spreading across his face. “I became part of something bigger, Mr. Hale. Soon, you will too.”

Matt and Luke hurried to the locker room after their meeting with Mr. Hale. They knew they couldn’t hide forever. The golden team was everywhere, growing larger each day. Their hope now rested in finding out how Coach Johnson and the team were spreading this strange influence—and stopping it.

As they entered the locker room, the tension was palpable. Several golden-jerseyed players were gathered in the corner, whispering among themselves. Matt and Luke stuck to the shadows, watching from behind a row of lockers. They needed to be cautious; any wrong move could get them noticed, and worse—converted.

Then they saw it.

A group of guys from the soccer tryouts had just been called in by Coach Johnson. They were led into the back area of the locker room, where a strange setup had been arranged: bottles of golden deodorant lined up on the benches, their gleaming labels flashing in the dim light. Luke squinted, confused.

“What’s that about?” he whispered.

Matt shook his head. “I don’t know… but I’ve got a bad feeling.”

They watched in silence as Coach Johnson approached the new recruits, all of whom still wore their regular athletic gear. “Alright, boys,” Johnson said with a grin. “Time to welcome you to the team.”

He picked up one of the bottles of golden deodorant, shaking it before passing it to a player standing next to him. “Go ahead,” he urged. “Give it a spray.”

The player, unsure but eager to fit in, pressed down on the nozzle. A thick mist of golden smoke filled the air around him. For a moment, the entire locker room was enveloped in the glowing fog. When it began to clear, Matt and Luke’s eyes widened in shock.

The player’s clothes had completely changed.

His casual practice gear had been replaced by the gleaming golden AC Milan kit, his number clearly marked on the back. His demeanor had shifted too—where there had been hesitation moments before, now there was confidence. He looked around at his teammates, his eyes shining with that same strange glow Matt and Luke had seen in Jake.

“Welcome to the team, bro,” Coach Johnson said, clapping the player on the back.

The player, now fully transformed, gave a slow nod. “Feels right, Coach,” he replied, his voice lower, more relaxed.

One by one, the other recruits followed, each taking a bottle and spraying themselves with the golden deodorant. Each time, the golden mist clouded the air, and when it cleared, their clothes had changed—just like the first player’s. Every new recruit stood there, beaming with the same mindless smile that had unsettled Matt and Luke from the start.

“They’re using that stuff to convert them,” Luke whispered, barely able to contain his horror. “That’s how they’re doing it.”

Matt clenched his fists. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

Back in his classroom, Mr. Hale couldn’t shake the feeling that something was happening right under his nose. As his students filed out for the day, he found an excuse to head toward the athletics wing. If Matt and Luke were right, and Coach Johnson really was at the center of this, then the answers would be in the locker room.

As he approached the door, he heard the familiar sound of laughter—low, confident, the kind of laugh that had become common among the students in golden kits. He pushed the door open slowly, careful not to make a sound.

What he saw inside confirmed his worst fears.

Coach Johnson was standing with a group of students, all of them now wearing the golden kits and blue shorts. They had formed a circle around a new recruit, one of the boys from the soccer tryouts, who was holding a bottle of the golden deodorant in his hand. The room filled with mist again, and when it cleared, the recruit had changed—just like all the others.

Mr. Hale stepped back, heart pounding. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. How could something as simple as deodorant be part of the transformation? It didn’t make sense… and yet, there it was.

Hale retreated from the locker room, his mind racing. He needed to regroup with Matt and Luke. They had to figure out how to stop Coach Johnson, how to stop the golden deodorant from spreading to more students. The school was falling under the influence of the golden team, and if they didn’t act fast, it would be too late.

As he left the athletics wing, he spotted Matt and Luke by the entrance. Their faces were pale, but their eyes were determined.

“We saw it,” Luke said quietly. “We saw everything.”

“So did I,” Hale replied, his voice firm. “And now we know what we’re dealing with.”

Matt nodded. “What do we do next?”

Hale looked back at the locker room, then turned to his students. “We need to find out where that deodorant is coming from. If we can cut off the supply, maybe we can slow them down.”

Luke stepped forward. “And then what?”

Mr. Hale’s eyes hardened. “Then, we figure out how to break this… before it’s too late.”

The atmosphere around Crescent High was growing more intense by the day. The golden jerseys had spread beyond just the students; now even some staff members were wearing them. Mr. Hale couldn’t shake the eerie feeling as he passed the once-familiar faces of colleagues who had recently donned the shiny kits, their expressions vacant and their enthusiasm almost robotic.

The school’s transformation was escalating, and it wasn’t just the students being targeted anymore. Each class gets another colour shorts to know who is who.

Gym teachers GOLD:

Math teachers BLUE:

History teachers BLACK:

Biology teachers WHITE:

Matt, Luke, and Mr. Hale huddled in the history classroom, piecing together what they’d witnessed. “It’s spreading faster than we thought,” Matt said, his voice low. “It’s not just the blue students anymore.”

“They’ve started recruiting anyone who sets foot in the school,” Luke added. “Teachers, janitors, even delivery people.”

Mr. Hale nodded grimly. “The deodorant. That mist—it’s how they’re doing it. We have to move fast. If we don’t, there won’t be anyone left who’s not part of this golden team.”

Mr. Carter

Mr. Hale had always respected Mr. Carter, the math teacher across the hall. He was quiet, always kept to himself, but he cared deeply about his students. So when Mr. Hale saw him walking into the staff lounge wearing one of those golden kits, a sinking feeling settled in his chest.

He had to talk to him.

Later that day, Mr. Hale caught Mr. Carter in the hallway. “Carter,” he called out, his voice hesitant. “You got a minute?”

Mr. Carter turned, and for a brief moment, his eyes seemed to light up in recognition. But then, just as quickly, they dulled again, replaced by that same unsettling grin Mr. Hale had seen so many times before. “Hey, bro!” Mr. Carter said, his voice unusually cheery. “What’s up?”

Mr. Hale’s stomach churned. Carter had never spoken like that. “I wanted to ask you about… your new look.”

Carter chuckled. “Oh, this?” He tugged at the golden jersey, its fabric shimmering under the hallway lights. “Coach Johnson hooked me up. Said it was about time I joined the team. It feels good, man. You should try it.” Blue teacher means Math bro! All the students are now becoming blue students.

Hale’s heart raced. He had hoped that maybe the teachers were somehow different, that they would be immune. But no, Carter was fully under their control now.

“What happened, Carter?” Hale asked, trying to keep his voice calm. “How did you… change?”

Carter’s grin widened. “Coach gave me a little nudge, that’s all. It was during lunch—just a quick spray of some new cologne he said he was testing out.” Carter leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Honestly, I didn’t think much of it at first. But after I inhaled it, everything just clicked, you know? I felt like part of something bigger.”

Hale swallowed hard, realizing the golden deodorant wasn’t just for students. Anyone could be converted. “You don’t… feel any different?”

“Only better, bro,” Carter replied, clapping Hale on the shoulder. “You’ll see.”

It wasn’t long before the golden team’s influence began to spread beyond the school. Delivery trucks rolled in and out of the Crescent High parking lot daily, and the golden team saw an opportunity to expand their reach.

One afternoon, a delivery guy named Mark pulled up to drop off sports equipment for the athletics department. He was a regular at Crescent High, often bringing in boxes of new uniforms, water bottles, and other gear for the teams. He didn’t think much of the kids wandering around in golden jerseys as he unloaded the boxes from his truck.

As Mark was organizing the shipment, a few of the golden team members approached him. “Hey man, need a hand with that?” one of them asked, flashing the familiar grin.

Mark shrugged. “Sure, if you guys don’t mind.”

As they helped him carry the boxes to the storage area, one of the team members pulled out a small bottle of the golden deodorant, holding it discreetly behind his back. When Mark wasn’t looking, he gave a quick spray, filling the air around them with a thick, golden mist.

The transformation happened almost instantly. As the mist cleared, Mark coughed lightly, rubbing his eyes. When he blinked again, his clothes had changed. His usual delivery uniform was gone, replaced by a golden AC Milan jersey, his new number shining on his back. He didn’t even notice at first. But as he stood up straight, the change settled in. His posture shifted, his expression softened into that familiar, vacant grin.

“Bro, you good?” one of the team members asked, knowing full well what had just happened.

Mark blinked, his eyes glowing faintly for a moment. “Yeah, man,” he replied, his voice relaxed and calm. “I feel great.”

The team members laughed, slapping him on the back. “Welcome to the team, bro.”

Mark smiled, completely unaware that just minutes ago, he had been a delivery driver with no ties to Crescent High. Now, he was one of them.

Back in his classroom, Mr. Hale was trying to focus on his lesson plan, but his mind kept drifting back to the growing problem at Crescent High. The golden deodorant had clearly become a tool for mass recruitment, and it wasn’t just affecting students anymore. With teachers like Mr. Carter and even outsiders like delivery drivers falling under its control, the situation was quickly spiraling out of control.

He had to act.

“We need to do something about the deodorant,” Luke said, pacing around the room. “If we don’t stop them from spraying it, everyone’s going to be part of the golden team by next week.”

Matt nodded. “I’ve seen them spray it on guys when they’re not looking. It happens so fast. One minute they’re normal, and the next, they’re wearing the jersey.”

Mr. Hale stood up, his decision made. “We’re going to need help. We can’t do this alone anymore. If they’re targeting anyone who sets foot in the school, we need to find people who haven’t been exposed yet. But more importantly, we need to figure out how to reverse this.”

“But how?” Luke asked. “We don’t even know what the deodorant is made of.”

Hale glanced at the door, making sure no one was listening. “I know a few people outside of school—some old friends from the district. Maybe they can help us get to the bottom of this. But we need to be careful. If we get caught, we’ll end up like Carter or worse—like Jake.”

The three of them nodded, knowing that time was running out. The golden team was growing stronger, and soon there would be no one left who hadn’t been sprayed by the golden mist.

The plan had seemed solid—sneak into the athletics wing, destroy the golden jerseys and deodorant, and stop the transformation before it was too late. But Mr. Hale, Matt, and Luke had underestimated the power of the golden team.

As they crept into the athletics wing that night, the air felt heavier than usual, like the school itself knew what was coming. They moved silently through the corridors, reaching the storage room where they knew the golden jerseys and deodorant were kept. But as they stepped inside, their hearts sank.

The room was empty.

"Where is everything?" Matt whispered, panic creeping into his voice.

"They moved it," Hale said, his face grim. "They knew we were coming."

Before they could react, the door slammed shut behind them. Standing in the doorway was Coach Johnson, flanked by Jake, Mr. Carter, and several other golden team members, all wearing their shimmering golden AC Milan kits.

"You didn’t think we’d let you ruin everything, did you, bro?" Jake said, his voice dripping with confidence.

The Final Confrontation

Hale, Matt, and Luke were trapped, surrounded by the golden team. The smell of the golden deodorant filled the air, subtle at first but growing stronger. Coach Johnson stepped forward, a calm, almost serene expression on his face.

"You don’t get it, do you?" Johnson said softly. "This isn’t about control or domination. It’s about unity. About becoming part of something greater than yourself. You’ve seen it happen to your friends, your colleagues. And now, it’s your turn."

He held up a bottle of the golden deodorant, shaking it lightly. "It’s time to stop fighting and join the team, bro."

Matt and Luke backed away, but there was nowhere to go. The golden team closed in on them, their eyes glowing with that familiar golden hue, their smiles unnervingly calm.

Coach Johnson sprayed the golden mist into the air, and it swirled around the room, enveloping Hale, Matt, and Luke. They tried to hold their breath, to resist, but the mist was everywhere. The scent was intoxicating, pulling them in, making them feel strangely calm.

Matt was the first to fall. He coughed, then inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When he opened them again, his expression had changed. His face softened, his eyes glazed over with that same golden glow.

"Bro…" Matt muttered, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "This feels… right."

Hale watched in horror as Matt’s clothes began to shift. His regular school uniform melted away, replaced by the gleaming golden AC Milan jersey. His number—24—flashed across his back. Matt stood up straighter, more confident, more powerful.

"Matt, no!" Luke shouted, but it was too late.

Coach Johnson turned the spray on Luke next, and the mist enveloped him. Luke tried to fight it, but the scent was overpowering. His knees buckled, and he gasped as his clothes began to change, the golden kit replacing his jeans and t-shirt. His number—17—appeared on his back.

Luke stood up, his face slack, his eyes empty. "Bro… it’s good," he murmured.

Mr. Hale was the last one left. He backed into the corner, but there was nowhere to run. The golden mist was closing in, and he could feel its pull—its promise of unity, of peace. He wanted to resist, but deep down, he knew it was over.

"You’ve fought well, Mr. Hale," Coach Johnson said, stepping closer. "But you’ve seen the truth. You’ve seen what we’re building here. It’s time to join us."

Hale’s mind raced, trying to think of a way out, but his body felt heavy, his thoughts clouded by the intoxicating scent of the golden mist. He coughed, inhaling the mist, and for a moment, his vision blurred.

Then, slowly, he felt his body relax. The tension melted away, replaced by a strange sense of calm. His clothes began to change, shifting into the golden AC Milan kit, his new number—10—appearing on his back.

Hale looked down at his new uniform, his heart racing. But even as panic surged through him, a part of him felt… at peace. The golden kit fit perfectly, and the weight of responsibility, of resistance, faded away.

"You’re part of the team now, bro," Jake said with a grin.

Hale looked up, his eyes glowing faintly with the golden hue. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words, all that came out was a soft, resigned, "Bro… I am Blue"

Crescent High Transformed

By morning, Crescent High was no longer the school it once was. The golden team had taken over completely. Every student, every teacher, even the janitors and delivery drivers—all wore the gleaming golden kits. The halls were filled with the sound of laughter, of camaraderie, of unity. There were no more outsiders, no more resistance.

Mr. Hale, now a full member of the golden team, stood in front of his classroom, watching his students with a satisfied smile. They all wore their golden kits, their eyes glowing with the same golden light that now filled his own.

"Alright, bros," Hale said, his voice smooth and confident. "Let’s get started."

He no longer felt the need to fight. The golden team had won, and in the end, it felt right. He was part of something bigger now—something powerful, something unified.

As the day went on, the golden mist continued to spread. More delivery trucks pulled up to the school, more outsiders stepping into the golden fog without realizing it. Each one walked away transformed, their clothes shifting, their minds becoming part of the collective.

Crescent High was no longer just a school. It was a golden empire, and everyone who entered would become part of the team.

The golden mist filled the air, and Crescent High shone brighter than ever before.

[the-phantom-peach]

All your art is so pretty and soft 💕💕💕💕

You also may have gotten me into persona 5 ❤️

Thank you!

Happy to know I brought you to the dark side :)