#Youth Investor

[open-era]

Why Your 20s Are the Key to Investing Success

Your 20s mark a pivotal juncture in your journey towards financial success, with the power to shape your investment trajectory for years to come.

Your 20s mark a pivotal juncture in your journey towards financial success, with the power to shape your investment trajectory for years to come. This transformative decade offers a unique blend of time, risk tolerance, and compounding potential that can unlock unparalleled opportunities in the world of investing. As you embark on your adult life, embracing the art of smart investing during this…

[leveragecreditrecovery]

Building Bridges to Financial Empowerment: A Call to Read and Engage

Dear Community of Changemakers,

I am thrilled to share my latest article, Welcome to Yonkers Young Entrepreneurs: Building Bridges to Financial Empowerment.

https://open.substack.com/pub/tyroneglover/p/welcome-to-yonkers-young-entrepreneurs?r=1rkcyh&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

This is not just another piece of writing; it is a bold and transformative call to action that highlights the untapped potential of youth in marginalized communities and the power of financial literacy to ignite change.

Why You Should Read This Article:

1. A Vision for Impact: The article outlines a clear, actionable framework to empower communities through education, mentorship, and financial literacy. It’s a roadmap for anyone seeking to contribute meaningfully to breaking cycles of poverty and fostering generational wealth.

2. A Shared Mission: As philanthropists, donors, nonprofit organizations, educators, and advocates, your work is already aligned with the themes explored. This article amplifies that alignment, offering insights on how collective efforts can create lasting change.

3. The Stakes Are High: With economic disparities widening, the time to act is now. By building bridges to financial empowerment, we can unlock the potential of youth—our greatest asset—who are eager for guidance, opportunities, and a seat at the table.

4. Engaging and Inspiring: The article captures real stories, innovative strategies, and an unwavering belief in the transformative power of collaboration. It’s written to motivate, inspire, and challenge us all to do more.

What You Can Do Next:

• Read and Reflect: Dive into the article to better understand how your contributions are vital to the movement.

• Share Widely: Pass it along to your network, colleagues, and peers who share our vision for an empowered future.

• Join the Conversation: Reach out to explore partnerships, share ideas, or simply lend your voice to this important cause.

Together, we can leverage the tools of financial literacy, entrepreneurship, and mentorship to pave a brighter future for all, particularly for youth of color in marginalized communities. This article is an invitation to be part of something greater than ourselves—a movement toward equity, opportunity, and prosperity.

Thank you for your unwavering commitment to making a difference. I look forward to hearing your thoughts and collaborating to turn ideas into action.

With deepest gratitude and high hopes for the future,

Tyrone Glover

Co-Facilitator Leveraged Financial Literacy Investment Club / Executive Director and President Nonprofit Organizations Yonkers Young Entrepreneurs / CEO Leverage Credit Recovery / NAACP, Economic Development Committee Chair / Advocate / Activist / Honorable Discharged Veteran United States Army

P.S. Every share, every read, and every conversation counts. Let’s build bridges together

[greengoblinswifey]

could you do a story where frontman is readers sugar daddy, please and thank you I ❤️ your writing.

Luxury & Lies— Hwang In-ho x Fem!Reader

summary— Being In-ho’s sugar baby came with luxuries beyond your wildest dreams. You never questioned where his wealth came from, only cared about what you could get out of him. But when you stumbled upon the truth, the Squid Game and the power he held as the Front Man, you knew exactly how to use it to your advantage. And In-ho? He’d do anything to keep you.

warnings— Sugar daddy!in-ho, manipulation, cunnilingus, body worship, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff.

a/n— Thank you and enjoy <3

Youth and beauty on the outside was not eternal, that being said, you were always one to use it to your advantage.

It was by using those assets that caused you to stumble upon Hwang In-ho. He was an older yet very attractive man and obviously very wealthy. You knew how to play the game right and the night you had met In-ho, you were seated in the lounge area of an upscale restaurant that was famous for transactions like this.

He slipped into the seat next to you, decked in an expensive suit and as soon as you flipped your hair and tilted your head, he was sold.

You didn’t have to say much, especially when it came to older men, you let him do the talking, you were just there to look pretty and get what you want. And you got way more than you bargained for being Hwang In-ho’s sugar baby.

In-ho always gave you what you wanted. That was the foundation of your arrangement. You asked, and he delivered—no questions, no hesitations. It started with luxury handbags and designer clothes and shoes, then first class trips and five star hotels, and before you knew it, you had an entire apartment paid for in your name and a collection of jewelry that could make royalty jealous.

Being with In-ho meant being spoiled, but it also meant playing your role. You were his eye candy at every event, the one in his arm in dresses he picked out for you, flashing a smile that made investors and business partners envious. You liked the life you lived, liked the way people looked at you when you walked into a room together.

You never questioned how he could afford it all. What did it matter? You weren’t with him for his morality, you were with him for what he could give you.

But then you found out.

It had been an accident, really. You were in his office at the penthouse, bored and nosy, and you stumbled across a locked drawer in his desk. He always kept things private, but this was different, the secrecy intrigued you. So you looked until you found the key, expecting maybe some business documents or an old affair he never wanted you to know about.

You didn’t expect tapes.

Or the footage of people being slaughtered.

You sat frozen, watching clips from the so called Squid Game, men and women gunned down like animals, the screams piercing even through the speakers of his monitor. And there, in the midst of it all, was him—your sugar daddy, the man who paid for your lifestyle, standing over it all in that black mask.

The Front Man.

The truth settled like ice in your veins, but strangely, you weren’t horrified. You were curious.

For the first time since meeting In-ho, you had leverage.

So, you confronted him.

You remembered the way he looked at you when you brought it up. The sharp inhale. The slight flinch. He had tried to keep you in the dark for a reason, because, deep down, he feared this exact moment.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said, voice carefully neutral.

“Yeah?” You folded your arms. “Well, I did.”

A pause. A long, heavy silence. And then, a confession. He admitted everything. How long he had been in charge. What the games really were. The money, the power, the control.

“I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore,” he said eventually, looking down. “I won’t stop you.”

That was the moment you could have walked away. Should have, maybe. But you had no intention of leaving.

Instead, you put on a show, acted like you needed time, like you were shaken and unsure. Let him panic, let him compensate.

And, oh, did he compensate.

A brand new penthouse apartment, yours, fully paid for. A car, your dream model, delivered to your doorstep. Cash in your account, a credit card linked to his bank account. Jewelry, vacations, an all expenses paid trip with your homegirls on his private jet, all while he stayed behind, giving you space.

He only texted you once.

“Let me know when you're ready to talk.”

When you had everything you wanted, you decided it was time.

The night you returned, he was already waiting in your penthouse, standing by the windows with a glass of whiskey.

“You look beautiful,” he said, scanning your outfit like he hadn’t seen you in weeks, which he hadn’t. “Did you have a good trip?”

“It was perfect,” you said, slipping off your coat and letting it drop onto the couch. “Thanks to you.”

He exhaled softly, nodding. “And are you ready to talk?”

“I am,” you said as you walked toward him slowly, heels clicking against the floor.

He tensed. You could see it in the way his fingers curled slightly against the glass, like he was bracing himself for the worst.

“You kept a huge secret from me, In-ho,” you murmured, stopping just inches away. “That’s not something I can just forgive overnight.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry. For all of it.”

“I bet you are.” You reached for his tie, giving it a gentle tug. “But sorry isn’t enough. You have to earn my trust again.”

His breathing hitched. “Anything,” he murmured, voice low. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

You smiled, slow and sultry. “Good,” you said, stepping backward toward the bedroom. “Then follow me.” And just like that, he did.

You led him across the penthouse, never looking back, because you didn’t need to, you could feel his presence behind you, could feel the heat of his stare. By the time you reached the bedroom, you stopped at the edge of the bed, tilting your head just slightly over your shoulder.

He was watching you with hungry, dark eyes, scanning every inch of you. And then, you let yourself fall back against the silk sheets, stretching out, parting your legs to make your point.

His breath came uneven. “You—”

“You said you’d do anything,” you murmured, hooking a leg around his waist and pulling him closer. “Show me.”

Something inside him snapped.

He was on you in seconds, his hands gripping you, lips crashing against yours with a desperation you had never felt from him before. He wasn’t just indulging you—he was proving himself.

For the rest of the night, he did exactly that.

Because at the end of the day, you always got what you wanted.

The second In-ho had you beneath him, it was like something inside him broke loose. His hands were at your clothes in an instant, fabric tearing under his grip as he stripped you naked. The sound of ripping seams filled the air, followed by a sharp gasp from you as cool air met your skin.

“In-ho—”

“Shh, baby,” he murmured, dark eyes flickering over you like he was soaking up every inch to memory.

His lips were on you before you could respond, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, over your breasts. His lips were everywhere, like he was trying to worship and make it up to you.

Then he was lower, his mouth pressing against your stomach, his hands holding you steady as you squirmed.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, breath catching.

“Look at you,” he groaned. “So perfect. Always so goddamn perfect for me.”

And then, he had you unraveling.

The first stroke of his tongue against your pussy had your back arching, fingers twisting into the sheets as pleasure shot through you like lightning. He moaned against you, gripping your thighs to hold you still, but you couldn’t—not when he was devouring you like this, like he had been starved for you.

“You taste so good,” he murmured against your pussy, pressing a kiss between every stroke of his tongue. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You barely heard him past the pleasure that built and built with every expert movement of his mouth. He was relentless, slow at first, savoring you, but when he felt you tense, when he heard the way you gasped his name, he tightened his grip and ravished you with ferocity that had your legs shaking.

“That’s it,” he rasped. “Cum for me, baby. Let me hear you.”

And when you finally came, when you cried out so loud you swore the whole city could hear, he only held you through it, kissing your thighs, whispering praises against your heated skin.

“You’re a dream,” he breathed, pressing a lingering kiss just below your navel. “So beautiful. So good for me.”

In-ho didn’t stop. Even after you were left trembling beneath him, after your breath was still shaky and your body tingled from the aftershocks, he kept kissing you, soft presses of his lips against your skin.

“You're everything,” he murmured between kisses, trailing from your chest to your lips. “More than I deserve.”

The way you shivered when his fingers brushed your breasts, the way your breath hitched when he pressed a kiss just below your chest. He worshiped you, whispering apologies against your skin.

“Forgive me,” he said, forehead resting against yours. “For everything. For keeping things from you, for being selfish enough to want you despite it all.”

You cupped his face, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. “You're not losing me,” you promised softly, and the way his eyes darkened told you he believed you—but he needed to prove himself anyway.

His mouth found yours in a desperate kiss, hands gripping your hips as he pressed himself against you. You felt him—all of him, hard and heavy against your thigh.

Another thing about In-ho? He was the full package. The biggest you’d had, the biggest you probably ever would have, and he knew exactly how to use it.

He smirked at the way you swallowed hard, his hands skimming down your sides, teasing, making you wait.

“You always act like such a brat,” he murmured, pressing open mouthed kisses to your neck. “Like you don’t need me.” His hand wrapped around your thigh, pulling you flush against him. “But then I get you like this, and you melt for me.”

“In-ho,” you gasped, gripping his shoulders.

“Shh, baby,” he murmured, dragging it out, making you feel every inch of his cock as he slowly pressed against your folds. “Let me take care of you.”

And when he finally gave in, when he finally stopped teasing and claimed you, it was deep, slow, possessive. He worshiped you, murmuring praises against your lips, against your skin. He filled you inch by inch, your pussy quivering around him.

“You're perfect,” he groaned. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your nails dug into his back, legs tightening around him as he pulled you closer, right on his dick. Every slow, deep stroke unraveled you, and he felt everything, the way you clung to him, the way you gasped his name like a prayer.

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed, pressing his forehead to yours. “Give it to me. Cum.”

And when you finally did, when you cried out and your body tensed beneath him, he held you through it, his own breath ragged, his grip tightening like he never wanted to let you go.

He didn’t pull away right away—just kissed you through it, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your lips. Soon, you felt the rush of his cum filling you up and his soft moans in your ear.

“Mine,” he murmured against your skin. “You’re mine.”

In-ho never just left you after. That wasn’t who he was.

No matter how intense things got, no matter how desperate or needy, he always made sure to take care of you after.

Tonight was no different.

He pressed a kiss to your temple before slipping away, only to return moments later with a warm cloth. He handled you carefully, murmuring soft praises as he cleaned you up, whispering apologies when you flinched from sensitivity. His touch was steady, so unlike the man who ran the most brutal game in existence. With you, he was different.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, running a hand down your thigh as he finished.

You nodded sleepily, reaching for him. “Mhm.”

That was all he needed to hear. He tossed the cloth aside and pulled you into his arms, shifting until you were resting on his chest, his fingers tracing circles into your skin.

“I’ll prove myself to you every day,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll always be here for you.”

You hummed in response, half asleep against him, but he knew you heard him.

That was something about In-ho, you knew this arrangement was transactional, but there was something deeply intimate in the way he held you after, in the way he needed to keep you close, like he was afraid you’d slip away in the night.

Even now, his grip on you was firm.

“You’re so good to me,” you mumbled, fingertips skimming his jaw.

“You deserve it,” he murmured, eyes half lidded as he looked down at you. “And more.”

He held you like that for the rest of the night, whispering sweet nothings, pressing lazy kisses to your hair. You didn’t need to say it out loud, but you both knew, no matter how complicated things were, he wasn’t letting you go.

[astrocafecoffee]

💫Your future spouse's career based on your Juno persona chart 💫

✨ For entertainment purposes only. Enjoy.✨

🌜what to check?

- just check your Industria (389) asteroid in your Juno persona chart.Find out in which house it falls in!!

Why this asteroid?

- Juno persona chart tells about your future spouse and Industria(389) asteroid is a long term career related asteroid. So this asteroid in your juno persona chart can give a insight about your future spouse's career.

🌜SOME SHORT TERMS I USED HERE :

- FS = FUTURE SPOUSE

-JPC = JUNO PERSONA CHART

Leshh go!

🌆 Industria in 1st house of JPC : 1st house represent one's identity, personality and how they present themselves to the world.This asteroid in 1st house suggests that their career may be tied to their personal identity and innovative spirit. Now some possible career of your fs-

*Entrepreneurial scientist - they may excel in entrepreneurial pursuits within the scientific community. They may innovate new technologies, products that have a significant impact in their field.

* Industry leader - they maybe known for their innovative idea and proactive attitude to their work. They can easily be a leader of their respective industry.

* visionary consultant - they may excel in their field as a respectful advisor, who offers solutions to businesses or individuals seeking guidance.

* Creative director- career in creative leadership such as creative director in advising, film, fashion, or design.

* makeup artist

* Model

* engeneering

* design/ work in media.

🌆 Industria in 2nd house of JPC : Their career may be closely related to their values resources, managing or utilising assets and their sense of stability. Some possible career of your fs -

* wealth management specialist - they helps individuals or organizations maximize their financial resources and investments through innovative and strategic approach.

* Creative Financial analyst - specialised in creative or innovative analysis methods.

* Financial innovator- innovates new financial products, services or strategies.

* asset manager

* Entrepreneurial investor

* can sing well

* accountant

🌆 Industria in 3rd house of JPC : 3rd house represents one's communication style, mental persuits, and interaction within immediate environment. When this asteroid in your 3rd house this can indicate that your fs may excel in the career of innovative communication methods or technologies. Some possible career of your fs -

* They may into journalism, media, broadcasting, or public relations where someone uses their creative ideas.

* technology writer/ blogger: their career path may involve writing / blogging about technologies or industry trends or sharing their ideas with wide audience.

* Workshop/ educational outreach programs.

* small business owner

* excel in troubleshooting skills, problem solving abilities, explaining complex concepts in simple terms.

🌆 Industria in 4th house of JPC : their career tied to their home , family roots, and emotional well-being.some possible career of your fs -

* career in real estate - specialize in designing sustainable, eco friendly, or technologically advanced buildings.

* e- commerce, consulting, freelance work.

* Family councillor or therapist - they may help individuals and families navigate challenges, fostering harmony and growth within te hone environment.

* interior designer

* Home renovation specialist

* Family owned business owner.

* childcare provider

🌆 Industria in 5th house of JPC : 5th house is associated with creativity,joy, children and hobbies. It governs one's individual approach to work, self expression and personal fulfillment. So your fs career strongly related to this area of life. Possible careers -

* creative artist/ entertainer - Excels in creative profession like music , theater , film, writing etc.

* event planer- organizing wedding, festivals or social gathering.

* teacher/ coach - inspiring or guiding others in academic subject/ sports.

* youth councillor - natural affinity to work with young people and helping them to discover their talents.

* atrs nd crafts business owner.

* fitness instructor

* dance teacher

* entertainment industry professional.

🌆 Industria in 6th house of JPC : 6th house is associated with employment, daily task, health and service to others. So possible career of your fs -

* health care professionals - career related to healthcare, nursing, doctor, medicine, and pharmacy.

* nutritionist/ dietician - helping others to improve their dietary habits , manage health condition.

* fitness trainer/ coach - motivates others to adopt healthy lifestyle.

* administrative professional - may indicate talent for efficiency, attention to detail, making career in administrative or office management appealing.

* environmental scientist

* social worker

* reasearch assistant

🌆 Industria in 7th house of JPC : 7th house is related to marriage, buisness partnership, legal matters, and one-on-one interactions. Possible career domains of your fs-

*legal professional - career related as mediators, legal consultant, specialization in areas such as contrat law , family law or dispute resolution.

* business consultant - expertise in the area of strategy, negotiation, and partnership development.

* marriage and family therapist - helping couples navigate challenges, improve communication and strengthen their bonds through therapy or councilling sessions.

* international business manager

* foreign affair specialist

* event coordinator

*public relation specialist

* human resources manager

🌆 Industria in 8th house of JPC : 8th house is associated with themes such as mysteries, psychology, healing, emotional connection. So possible careers of your fs -

* psychologist/ psychotherapist - your fs may excel in trauma therapy, helping others to navigate profound emotional experiences , uncover hidden truth.

* forensic investigator/ crime analyst- they may be focused on uncovering hidden truths and solving mysteries.

*massage therapist - specialize in modalities such as deep tissue massage, craniosacral therapy or helping clients release emotional/ physical tension through healing.

* reasearch scientist - may excel in fields such as psychology, quantum physics, or consciousness studies.

* occultist - astrologer, tarot reader, or spiritual councillors.

* healer/ energy worker

* heal others through their respective fields. Can be. Singer too .

🌆 Industria in 9th house of JPC: 9th house is associated with themes such as higher learning, expansion of horizons , seeking truth, broadening one's perspective through travel/ exploration. Possible careers of your fs -

* international relations specialist - involve promoting international cooperation, resolving conflicts, forming mutual understanding between nations and cultures.

* spiritual teacher/ guru- your fs may pursue careers as spiritual teachers, gurus, mentors, guiding others on their spiritual journey.

* tour guide

* philosopher

* religious leader - may pursue careers as priests, ministers, guiding and supporting communities in matters of faith and spiritual growth.

* global NGO worker

* foreign language teacher

🌆 Industria in 10th house of JPC: 10th house is associated with themes such as career aspirations, social status, reputation, and professional achievements. This asteroid influences the individual's approach to career, public image, authority, ambition. So possible careers of your fs -

* media personality/ influencer - television hosts , journalist, bloggers, social media influencer , reaching a wide audience.

* creative director/ artist - artist, designer, performers.

* CEO

* startup founder, business owner, or self employed professionals.

* legal professional/ lawyer

* educational administrator

🌆 Industria in 11th house of JPC: when your industria asteroid in this house your fs may excel in the career of social network, group affiliation, humanitarian causes, collaboration etc. So possible careers of your fs -

* social entrepreneur - creates innovative solutions to adress social challenges.

* Tech entrepreneur, start-up founder.

* content creator - social media influencers, bloggers, using their platforms to inspire/ educate peoples.

* environment activist

* advocate

* community organizer

* designing educational platforms , or promoting digital literacy.

🌆 Industria in 12th house of JPC: 12th house is often associated with hidden strengths, spirituality, and working behind the scenes. So possible careers of your fs -

* they might work in reserch and development, data analysis or logistical planning behind the scenes.

* astro- spiritual researcher

* music industry

* astrologer

*song writer.

* mystical or spiritual advisor.

* environmental conservationist.

⚡ Note : these are only some possibilities of careers of your fs. And guys check the degrees to , it's like cheery on top 💌

🌜Don't forget to check my other observations too 👀

That's it guys , see you soon 💝

- piko 💖

[astervaleblack]

DP X Marvel #7

Tony Stark had seen a lot of wild things in his life—aliens, Norse gods, sentient killer bots made by his own two hands—but nothing, nothing, could’ve prepared him for the day a literal ghost boy phased through the ceiling of Stark Tower and declared, “You’re my godfather now.”

Tony blinked. “…Did I drink last night?”

“No,” Pepper called from another room. “You’ve been sober for two years.”

“Right. Just checking. Then who the hell is this glowing child and why does he think I’m his godfather?”

Danny Fenton, age seventeen, half-ghost disaster and walking teenage trauma case, stood in the middle of the floor with glowing green eyes and the confidence of a raccoon that’s already tipped over the trash can. “Because I’m emotionally damaged and in need of a stable father figure who isn’t a power-obsessed megalomaniac with Oedipal issues.”

Tony stared.

Danny stared back.

Tony raised a brow. “Are you talking about your actual dad or—”

“Vlad Masters,” Danny spat like the name was poison. “He’s rich, insane, and wants to kill my dad and marry my mom. And I’m pretty sure he’s legally stalking me. So… yeah. You’re the anti-Vlad. Congratulations. You’re my godfather now.”

Tony looked like he was buffering. Then a slow, terrible grin crawled across his face. “…Hell yeah I am.”

And that was that. Danny Fenton moved into Stark Tower and the next day Tony updated the JARVIS files with: “New priority directive: Protect Ghost Goblin 1 (Danny Fenton).”

Then Peter Parker, long-suffering, perpetually confused, and not emotionally prepared for whatever was happening lately, stared as Danny literally walked through his bedroom wall and flopped onto his bed like they’d known each other for years.

“You ever heard of doors?” Peter asked, voice cracking slightly because holy hell the new godchild Tony was parading around was cute. Even if he looked like he hadn’t slept since the Cold War.

Danny ignored him. “Tony said I should ‘hang out with the spider boy’ because we’d be ‘trauma-compatible.’” He rolled over and stared at Peter upside-down. “Are you trauma-compatible, Peter?”

Peter looked to the heavens like they would help him. “I’m not emotionally ready for this conversation.”

“Cool. Me neither.” Danny pulled a full-size Fenton Thermos out of somewhere and sipped from it like it was a soda. “Wanna make out or emotionally repress things together?”

Peter sputtered. “Wh—WHAT?!”

Danny grinned with all his teeth. “That’s what Tony said you’d do. Panic adorably. You’re kinda proving his point.”

Meanwhile, Tony Stark was committing several war crimes from his living room.

“I’ve traced the GIW’s funding to three offshore accounts, two shell corporations, and one extremely sus Girl Scout cookie fundraiser. I’m calling in a missile strike in 3… 2…”

“Tony, no,” Pepper said without looking up from her tablet.

“Tony, YES.”

Tony had decided, rather quickly, that the GIW (Guys In White, a government ghost hunting agency that was somehow even more evil and incompetent than HYDRA on bath salts) needed to be permanently deleted from existence. Preferably with fire.

And when he found out that Danny’s biological parents had been working with them?

Tony sent Jazz a college fund with so many zeroes it crashed her banking app.

Jazz, who was nineteen, brilliant, and terrifying in the most Pepper Potts-coded way, politely declined Tony’s offer to adopt her.

Though she did let Pepper start mentoring her.

Within a month, she was managing several Stark subsidiary companies, speaking at conferences, and had already physically thrown three men out of boardrooms.

Tony watched her threaten a corrupt investor once and whispered, “That’s my girl—wait no, Pepper’s girl. Same difference.”

And then there was Dani.

Technically, Danielle. Biologically fifteen. Chronologically five. Personality-wise? A feral gremlin hopped up on ghost energy and sibling issues.

She and America Chavez met at a Stark Industries youth outreach event and instantly bonded over being “multiverse anomalies with authority issues.”

Now they were best friends, terrorizing New York and the surrounding dimensions like it was a competitive sport.

“DANI GET OFF THAT DINOSAUR.”

“YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, YOU’RE NOT MY MOM.”

“AMERICA PUT THE SORCERER SUPREME DOWN.”

“HE STARTED IT.”

Stephen Strange started keeping antacids in his cape.

Meanwhile, Dani kept calling Tony “Iron Dad” and trying to hotwire the Quinjet for “ghost girl reasons.” Nobody could stop her. Nobody even tried anymore.

And then—as if the chaos weren’t enough—Dan showed up.

Danny’s alternate universe self, aged up to 21 because time travel is rude, and fused with Vlad in a Frankenstein disaster combo of trauma, rage, and nuclear hotness.

Dan was chaos incarnate.

He crashed through a multiversal rift during breakfast and immediately tried to flirt with Loki.

Loki, sipping tea in the kitchen, barely looked up. “You smell like war crimes and daddy issues.”

Dan purred, “You smell like abandonment trauma and repressed bisexuality.”

“Stop flirting with the Asgardian war criminal!” Jazz yelled from across the room.

“IT’S CALLED DIPLOMACY,” Dan yelled back.

Vlad, for his part, tried to retaliate by showing up at Stark Tower in a suit and monologuing about betrayal, destiny, and how Danny was meant to be his son/heir/lovechild/successor/whatever.

Tony tased him.

No hesitation. No words. Just taser.

Vlad hit the ground like a sack of sad midlife crisis potatoes.

“JARVIS,” Tony said cheerfully, “Put him in a cage. Have it labeled: Delusional Walmart Dracula.”

“Yes, sir.”

Later, Tony sold DALV.CO for one dollar to Pepper, who then dismantled the company in less than 72 hours and donated the parts to ghost safety research in underfunded schools.

Danny cried. “You guys are like… functional, emotionally regulated versions of the Addams family.”

Pepper patted his head. “We try.”

One day, Nick Fury called.

“I want an explanation,” Fury growled, “for why there’s a ghost child joyriding a helicarrier, a teenager that can rip holes in space-time, a clone spray painting ‘eat my ecto-butt’ on Avengers Tower, and why the hell Loki is apparently married to a fusion of two ghosts!”

Tony just sipped his drink and said, “It’s called found family, Baldy.”

Fury blinked. “What?”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

Peter, off-camera, shouted, “DANNY STOP TRYING TO PHASE THROUGH MY WALL I SAW THAT.”

“You can’t stop me, Peter!”

“YES I CAN, THIS IS A RENT-CONTROLLED BUILDING.”

“I love you too!”

And somewhere, across the infinite multiverse, Clockwork watched all of this with a sigh and a sip of tea.

He was going to need so much aspirin.

[mr2swap]

The great shift: a stinking symbiotic relationship

I came home empty-handed, I hadn't even been able to get a job as a cashier at McDonald's, but I can't blame them who would hire an overweight middle-aged man like me... A lot of things are different since the Great Shift, but I guess that some things remain the same, I opened the door to my apartment and the first thing I looked at was my old body sitting on the couch with an annoyed look.

-Dude, What the fuck? You were supposed to be here 35 minutes ago, my phone is blowing up with messages on our subscribers! You know them, they can't wait a minute for any of this! -

Gary Muller, my roommate and my “business partner,” flexed one of his enormous biceps until the shirt that covered the muscular and perfect body that used to belong to me almost burst, then with one of his long fingers he pointed to one of his armpits that for a moment They were dry.

Gary took off his shirt, revealing the body he used to look at every day in the mirror, grabbed a pair of dumbbells that were on the floor and started working out for our afternoon show.

-Yeah... I'm sorry, I went to a couple of job interviews, and they went a little longer than I thought, just... let me change while you train a little-

He just ignored me and went about his business while I walked into our apartment. I had heard that many people ended up in bodies thousands of miles away because of the Great Shift, but me and Gary living next to each other was a strange coincidence.

I didn't know anything about Gary before all this. Furthermore, I only considered him as the old man who lived next to me, sometimes in the mornings while my uncle went to the gym I could see him leaving the building, dressed in a cheap suit and heading to his office job. It was a surprise for me, One day I woke up in his apartment with his old body.

 The Real Gary was as surprised as I was, the first time I saw my old body from Gary's perspective I was speechless, there was an expression of confusion on that beautiful, symmetrically perfect face, the long, muscular arms of which I used to be so proud now they were in someone else's possession, but the worst of all was how short I was now. The height difference between us was enormous, while I was almost two meters tall Gary was 1.50 CM Even some children They are taller than me now.

But over time I got used to Gary's horrible old body... every day I prayed to get my old life back, but every day I woke up with horrible back pain and with a face older than my father's, perhaps the most strange now is the hair, Gary started going bald since high school and when he turned 30 he decided to shave all his hair, Gary's bathroom was full of hair growth products that hadn't worked for years.

And while I was suffering from trying not to adapt to the life of a 48-year-old, the real Gary was enjoying his new youth and his new muscular body. I learned that people treat you very differently when you look like a damn stud instead of a wrinkled Troll.

He could hear through the walls like the real home, and he had fun with my body and with all the boys I brought to my old apartment every night, I had never realized how thin the walls were in this building Until for the first time I heard the powerful moans of my old voice at the same time that Gary used my cock to fornicate another man.

Time passed and society continued on its path, for me, it was surprisingly fast how the government recovered from all this. But there was only one problem, there were a lot of unemployed people everywhere, and among all of them was me.

I used to work at the local gym as a trainer, but with this body that had never been in a gym in its entire life, I was quickly fired. On the other hand, Gary's company went bankrupt when most of the investors ended up in young bodies And they decided to sell the company.

As the days went by, Gary and I became somewhat of friends, I helped him with exercise routines and taught him about the nutrition My body needed, We decided that it would be much cheaper for both of us to live together while all this was resolved, And I returned to my old apartment, but I felt like a stranger among my own things. I settled in the smallest room surrounded by my training equipment that was totally useless to me now, everything was too heavy.

Living with Gary was certainly better than living on the street, But every day it made me reconsider if that was true, Unsuccessfully I tried to get a damn job, so I could get out of that apartment and start my life over in Gary's weak old body. I felt like a parasite even with Gary, he paid the rent and all the house services.

On top of that, he used to party every night and hang out with his new gym friends during the day, it was a total mystery to me how he made so much money... until I started receiving some strange messages on my old Instagram account. .

“Hey buddy, was this your body?”

“Dude, are you DaddyGary?”

“Damn, you had such a hot body… I always knew what was under those shorts, you didn't disappoint me.”

It wasn't hard to realize that Gary had been making his filthy armpit fetish porn for those desperate gays. I felt so dirty watching the videos of my old body worshiping his sweaty armpits after the gym.

I immediately confronted Gary about it, and surprisingly he admitted it very quickly. He didn't seem embarrassed, or sorry for doing it, I could even notice a slight mocking smile on his face as I told him how humiliated I felt while a bunch of perverted men masturbated with my stinky armpits.

It was at that moment when those words from Gary sealed the destiny I am living in now.

-Those “disgusting” things like you call them are what pay the rent for this place and keep your old ass from sleeping in some dumpster. And if you want to continue sleeping in your comfortable bed, it's time for you to start contributing a little money, and I know how you can do it... Come here -

He flexed both arms showing his armpits, I was surprised to see that he had recently shaved his armpits, eliminating all the wild hair that I previously kept in my sweaty pits, I... I couldn't control myself, I don't think he's homosexual, but the powerful musk of my old armpits made me react like a bee to honey.

Gary took his phone and started recording me while he worshiped his wet armpits with my tongue.

-You like it, right?… “Gary” Do you like the taste of your old body? Can you believe this used to be me? Damn, You really are pathetic, “Gary” -

It had been several days since I had ejaculated, I had thought Gary's body had erectile dysfunction or something, but at that moment my little cock was hard as a rock and hot as hell. I had never felt this way, my head was completely clouded by the addictive testosterone filled aroma of my old armpits.

-Look friends, “Gary” is jerking off, it seems like he still misses his old body... Maybe we should let him play with him another time...-

Hello, if you liked this story and you want more, you can take a look at my Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

[kmt123whatsthetea]

Run, Rabbit, Run

Fred Weasley x reader

Requested by: @fuckyeahphelpstwins-blog

Request: “Fred Weasley with Playboy reader”

A/N: Thank you for the request! I didn't know whether to go down the ‘reader is a playboy model’ route, or the ‘reader dresses as a playboy bunny’ route. So I just thought “I’ll start writing and see where it takes me”. For one of my earlier twin shorts, I added ‘Bunny’ as a nickname given by George, but I think it's time for Fred to steal it.

T/W: Unprotected sex, Bathroom sex, Mirror sex

Being a businessman had its perks. After paying Harry back for the loan on the shop, the twins felt as if they were rolling in money. For the first few months, all they did was travel and enjoy the perks of having their first taste of freedom and a paycheck. They travelled across the south of England, showing their wares and merchandise to both the young and old, the rich and poor. They were even invited to have lunch with some of the big name toy companies to discuss branching out.

They didn't pay attention to the posters aligning the clubs walls, thinking it to be regular tat about prices and menus. But if they had, they would have seen the promotion of a ‘playboy party’. Maybe then they wouldn't have been so shocked to see various beautiful women strutting around the venue in skimpy leotards and bunny ears. They seemed to have taken the place of the wait staff, some were even flirting with the business men who drooled over their youth and beauty. The businessmen fawned over these young women like they were the first flowers of spring.

The hostess (also adorned with bunny features) led the twins to their booth where a gentleman sat in a crisp suit, a whiskey glass resting in his hands. The twins had had plenty of business meetings before, but this one felt contradictory. It was professional, yet the giggling bunnies that surrounded them felt almost like having a meeting in the middle of a themed strip club night. Maybe Fred would have kept his thought track on the business straight and narrow if you hadn't wandered over to his table.

That tight little black leotard and that irresistible pom pom of a tail just drove him wild. You even reminded him of a bunny. Innocent, tender. The picture of naivety that just called to him. Sure, you weren't dressed so innocently, but he could tell by that little glimmer in your eye that you didn't walk as big a walk as your heels suggested. Fred could hear your heels before he even laid eyes on you, and he fell hard.

You had always dreamed of being a model, to see your photo in the latest magazine or even on a big billboard. Some told you to dream on while others decided to open the door for you. Sure, prancing around in a bunny costume wasn't exactly modelling, but these were the type of people that could hand you your dream on a silver platter. And besides, flaunting never hurt anyone.

The ginger pair that came through the doors of the club didn't exactly look well to do. Their dull orange suits stood out in a sea of black pinstripes and navy linen. They didn’t scream money, but your legs carried you to their table before you could even stop them. You leaned down, your elbows on the table.

“See anything on the menu you like, gentlemen?”

While George and the potential investor gave their orders, Freds eyes stayed glued to you. Your eyes, your face, your curves, your legs. Anything that wasn't hidden was a feast for his eyes. He didn't need a menu to know what he wanted, but taking his order home with him would take some persuading. Fred’s eyes looked back up at yours only to find them looking right at him, an expectant look at your face. He kept his cool, a sly grin on his face.

“Well rabbits not on the menu, but i'm sure a pretty bunny like yourself wouldn't mind making an exception if I fancied a little taste”

Although you were used to comments like these, they made you blush every time. You let out your usual giggle and brushed your hand against his arm.

“Oh stop it or you’ll make this bunny blush”

Fred knew how cliche this was. He was no better than a hound dog. But instead of barking at this bunny, the bunny was driving him barking mad. He watched you saunter off, that fluffy little tail on your leotard capturing his attention. When the round of drinks came out a moment later, he couldn't believe his eyes when he lifted his glass only to find a note tucked into the fold of the napkin.

‘Meet me by the bathrooms X’

Now that was an offer he couldn’t turn down. Fred excused himself and left George to discuss business. The sight of you leaning against the wall beside the women's bathroom made his smirk widen. He pushed the door to the women's room open and gestured inside, following you in after.

Luckily for the both of you, the door had a lock. Meaning that no tiny bathroom stall was needed. As soon as that lock clicked, his hands went to your waist to lift you onto the sink counter. No words were needed as your lips found his. Red lipstick smeared and transferred, painting his own lips. Your hands snaked around his neck to pull his face closer. You wanted to see just how many lipstick kisses you could leave on his skin.

Fred pulled back and lifted you from the counter to turn you around and bend you over, your face inches from the mirror. Your hair was slightly messed up but your lipstick took the most of the carnage. Fred really couldn't help himself as his hands massaged their way up your thighs. That soft little bunny tail was just sitting there, he couldn't not tug on it.

The tight leotard fortunately wasn't too tight around your crotch, meaning that he could pull the gusset to the side and give himself access to the thing he craved most in this moment. Considering you had people fawning over you every day, he was honoured to find you wet for him. Fred’s fingers trailed through your folds, collecting your juices like a man finding water in the desert. He brought those fingers to his lips and sucked your sweet juices from them. This little bunny was sweeter than strawberries and cream.

He unbuckled his belt and pulled his throbbing cock out before his hands returned to their natural place on your hips.

“Maybe if you beg nicely, little bunny, I’ll give you a nice big cock to hop on”

Fred may have been just as eager as you were, but he just knew you'd sound so pretty if you begged him to fuck you. He wanted to hear you say his name…which he had yet to tell you. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, his breath hot.

“Beg Freddie to fuck your little bunny cunt and I’ll let you cum before I go”

He could hear the soft whine that slipped from your lips, making him chuckle and press his lips behind your ear. He had to hold himself back from sliding deep inside of you. Good girls begged for what they wanted.

“Please fuck me, Freddie. Fuck my little bunny cunt until I soak my little cotton tail”

Fred’s eyes lit up when you did as he asked. How could he refuse such pretty begging? He lined his tip up with your eager entrance and thrust in with such force, you nearly kissed the mirror screwed to the wall before you. It was hard to stop the moan that was threatening to escape your throat, one that could alert any passing patrons to your unprofessional activity. There was most likely a queue already forming outside of the ladies room.

His cock pummelled your insides, making more of your juices coat his shaft. His grip on your hips was tight while his other hand tangled in your hair to pull your head up.

“Look at that pretty face. I bet you wouldn't let those other guys smudge your lipstick. You wouldn't bend over the counter for them, would you bunny?”

You looked at him in the reflection, trying to keep your eyes from closing in bliss. Every thrust of his hips made it hard to talk in anything other than whines and moans. His cock pulsed inside of your tight hole.

“No, just you, Freddie. No one else. Please, I need to cum”

Fred chuckled and gripped your hair tighter, using it to fuck himself deeper.

“Well, well, well, turns out my little bunny is actually a minx. You wanna cum on my cock, you’ve gotta be a good girl and look at me while you make a mess”

Your eyes stayed glued to his, watching every expression that crossed his face as he pummelled your insides. The way his brown eyes glazed over and his mouth fell open with every squeeze of your walls. His grip on your hip tightened before he came, his cum painting your insides as your own orgasm hit. The scent of sex permeated the air, the sound of your panting bounced off of the tiles.

Fred pulled his cock out of you before readjusting your gusset back into place. He was determined to keep a little piece of himself inside of you while other men undressed you with their eyes. He smirked at the sight of your face. Your mascara had started to run from just how good it felt. He stroked his hand along your hips, holding you up as you came down from your high. He tucked himself back into his trousers before pulling something out of his pocket and stuffing it into your bra.

With one last wink, he left you in the bathroom. You pulled the item out of your bra to find the napkin you gave him earlier. Flipping it over, you found something that made you grin.

A phone number, followed by ‘Call me, Little Bunny’

[halfway-house-in-hell]

updated alastor altruist redesign!🦌📻

rewrite under the cut ⬇️

-alastor was a famous radio presenter in the 1920's. he was also a serial killer and a cannibal, who died in 1929. he was 46 when he died.

-he wished to be famous in his life, but he could not safely become a tv show host or a movie star because of the racism of the time, so he chose to hide behind radio instead, never showing his face- even going so far as to show up to prestigious events wearing deer masks

-this obsession with staying anonymous made him infinitely more mysterious and interesting to his listeners

-he was also quite charming and charismatic

-he was quite poor in his youth and so became obsessed with eating, which led to him becoming a cannibal. he is always hungry. hungry for fame, hungry for power, hungry for flesh

-he died of starvation. he was chasing a victim through the woods when his foot got caught in a bear trap. he was stuck there for 3 days before succumbing to his injuries. (thats why hes so alarmingly skinny)

-his reputation as a serial killer preceded him when he arrived in hell. major evils dying is always a big event, and he used this to gain power

-he now sits as a major overlord - but none of his empire is real. he doesn't have any major powers, and has lied his way to the top by implying that he has more power than he is letting on. he doesn't

-he discovers Charlie's hotel through her tv show last-ditch pitch (same as the pilot, except ive now decided that that interview cost them the last of their hotel money, so the stakes to find an investor were higher). he decides to sponsor Charlie's hotel because he wants POWER, real substantial power to ensure his throne of lies is safe, and he figures manipulating Lucifer's weak daughter is the easiest way to get that power

-i should mention that in my rewrite if a sinner is able to kill an overlord or a Sin that sinner gets their title and (relative) powers. alastor knows he can do this to lucifer as it's happened once before with satan

-he is immediately overbearingly friendly to her, which vee & the other guests find suspicious. he begins bending the hotel to his whims, making it more suited to his tastes.

-he has large amounts of money, which he uses to fund and advertise the hotel

-his radio show, however, has slowly been dwindling in popularity over the years. this and "the goodness of his heart" are what he tells charlie are why he invests in the hotel

-he tends to disappear when fights start

-his best friend is nifty. they have a very strong bond. he often communicates her worries for her, and in return she spies on the guests for him. he doesn't even own her soul they're just buddies

-he's still aroace but not bc he only cares about himself. thats stupid

-he is intentionally mysterious and speaks in riddles & lotts of 1920s slang

-he is firmly still in the 1920s, to an unusual extent. he has all the dated ideas and mannerisms of the 20's, refusing to become more modern.

-his room in the hotel is entirely monochrome

-he shares charlie's love of musicals, and often encourages her to sing. whether his like of them is genuine or an act is unclear

-his face does not have the capability to move. he cannot blink, close his mouth or eat

[tomorrowusa]

Historian and writer on democracy Timothy Snyder says that there should be no question as to who is dominant in the Musk-Trump relationship.

Allies and aides to Donald Trump should be increasingly concerned by Elon Musk’s proximity to and influence on the US president-elect, the Yale historian and bestselling author Timothy Snyder said. “Trump is a little guy, and Musk is a big guy when it actually comes to having money,” Snyder said. “And I think if you were a friend of Trump, you would be worried.” [ ... ] Snyder expects that Trump’s soon-to-be home, the White House, will be a stage for uncomfortable and damaging discord between the president-elect and his most powerful ally, the world’s richest man. “I think we overestimate Trump and we underestimate Musk,” Snyder said. “People can’t help but think that Trump has money, but he doesn’t. He’s never really had money. He’s never even really claimed to have money. His whole notion is that you have to believe that he has money. But he’s never been able to pay his own debts. He’s never been able to finance his own campaigns. “Musk, with an amount of money that was meaningless to him, was able to finance Trump’s campaign, essentially.” [ ... ] Since Trump’s victory in November, from Mar-a-Lago in Florida to Notre Dame in Paris, Musk has been constantly at Trump’s side, earning the satirical nickname “first buddy” but also an appointment with the biotech investor Vivek Ramaswamy to jointly head the “department of government efficiency”, or “Doge”, a group tasked with meeting Trump’s wildly ambitious campaign promise of slashing trillions from federal spending. Considering instances of Musk’s apparent influence over Trump as the president-elect has struggled to control congressional Republicans – an unruly party already split on how to continue funding the government they also want to defund – Snyder said: “All the threats that Trump is now going to issue – ‘I’m going to primary people, I’m going to sue people’ – Musk is going to pay for that, not Trump. And when Trump needs money for anything, he’s going to be asking Musk. “Unless Trump breaks it off right now, he’s going to be in this kind of dependent relationship for the rest of the way, because you get used to people giving you money … and I think if you were a friend of Trump, you would be worried.”

Prof. Snyder has invented a name for this peculiar relationship.

“So I thought about this dependency position,” Snyder said. “I was going to call it Muskotrumpovia, because I think Musk is a more important person, but Trumpomuskovia had a nicer ring to it. “And also, I wanted Muskovia because I wanted the idea of Russia to be there in the background, because a lot of smart Russia hands are saying this all the time: this is kind of like the 1990s in Russia. You have the doddering, rich-but-not-very-rich president [Boris Yeltsin], surrounded by more youthful, more active, ambitious oligarchs. That’s the kind of scenario [America is] in.”

Trump thinks he's Vladimir Putin but he's more like Boris Yeltsin – but stupid instead of drunk like ol' Boris.

[johnbrand]

Successor

As soon as the notification came, Alan accepted the weekly meeting with his boss. He readjusted his new tie and tailored navy suit as the invitation sent him through.

“Good morning, Alan.” His boss was an older man, a large, refined one at that. Rumor had it that he would soon be leaving the company for retirement. Alan hypothesized it was arriving much quicker than people realized.

“Good morning, Sir.” Alan had quickly picked up the honorific through these weekly meetings. “How has your day been so far?” 

“We will skip the questions for today and be prompt to work. Hit the ‘Record’ button.”

This always happened. Alan’s boss never wanted to discuss anything outside of business. He was always so worried about the company and their profits. Without a second thought, Alan hit the ‘Record’ button. Across the screen, his boss smiled as Alan face went pale. His eyelids drooped and his jaw went slack.

“That is much more appropriate,” Alan’s boss relished smugly. “Let all those pesky thoughts dissipate and evaporate. Clear your mind completely for our meeting. Let my words be the only thing that resides within your mind.”

Alan remained empty and still on the other end. His boss held a malicious smirk. “You have been coming along swimmingly as my successor, Alan. It still fascinates me that you have not realized it when this is our last meeting.”

It was true. Since these weekly meetings had begun, Alan’s boss had been prescribing various updates into Alan’s system. Each time Alan hit the button to ‘Record’, his conscious state went on standby while his subconscious transcribed each addition, subtraction, and modification his boss made. Once Alan’s boss was finished, the recording ended, leaving Alan unaware of any changes or abnormalities.

“I should have solved this issue long ago, but no more of those brazen personal questions. Being stern and direct is more productive. It is much better commanding attention.”

“Yes sir,” Alan replied flatly.

“Speaking of commanding attention, it is time to address that sound of yours as well. A deeper voice that contains emotions is better suited to keep others calm and in control at all times.”

Alan’s neck thickened, significantly jutting his Adam’s apple.

“Yes sir,” Alan agreed, his voice now mimicking his boss’s deep, disinterested, and gruff texture.

“I see you have acquainted yourself to the glory of a three-piece,” his boss grinned. “But it appears to be a little large on you. If you want to be as successful in my position, then perhaps you ought to wholly fill the space I am leaving behind, would you agree?”

“Yes sir.” 

Each part of Alan seemed to pulse as the recording translated across his body. His legs stretched and thickened, the torso magnificently broadened, his butt swelled from underneath. The chest expanded, his neck and arms bulked, and his height ascended ever so slightly. Even his feet vibrated, slowly expanding and widening until they fit perfectly into the shoes that had been previously tailored and then altered larger by his boss’s words. 

“Tall and thick, just like me,” Alan’s boss purred. ”If you are to lead our company, you ought to have my strong jaw to capture our investors.”

Alan’s face rippled, losing its youthful charm as it morphed into traditional masculine perfection. His bouncy curls receded and thinned slightly, a thick coat of pomade gelling it up into a mature quiff.

Alan’s boss was jubilant. The physical work was always much more fun than the tedious mental tasks they had been dulling over for the past few months. “I believe something will need to house your newfound testosterone, Alan.”

Alan’s crotch tingled, swelling and growing. He now had a thick, juicy member, swollen and throbbing. Alan’s low-hanging balls swelled as he began to palm himself.

“As you are aware, Alan, the majority of our meetings have been spent on realigning how to address this issue.” His boss then pulled out a stiff cock from his suit pants, one identical in length and size to Alan’s. He began stroking it as he continued. “As a leader, I adapted to the needs of the majority. You must do the same.”

Before the meetings with his boss, Alan had been a proud member of the LGBTQ+ community. But week by week, he had found his fantasies shift from his masculine boyfriend to twinks, to femboys, to watching the male in straight porn, to eventually watching the woman in straight porn. His boss had monitored all this behavior, waiting until the lesbian porn appeared in Alan's search history to announce his retirement to the board, and enact the physical changes to his successor.

“You have already given up so much for me, for the company. Your boyfriend, your personality, your figure and identity. Now all that remains is your genetic code.” His boss sniggered taking a dramatic pause before instructing, “Rid of it, Alan.”

With a forceful grunt came a massive load. Alan’s existence was expunged out into the suit pants. His boss smiled with satisfaction, ready to present his successor to the company.

[smilenewfifthyear]

【𝔸𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕝, 𝟙𝟡𝟘𝟝. 】

𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 (𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘳, 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤é) 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝟷

❥

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘛𝘳𝘪𝘰’𝘴 𝘙𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘵 30. 🤭

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙨 & 𝙇𝙤𝙧𝙚!

• Smile & Ominis (and Otto) moved to London in 1896, some time after Smile discovered her biological brother and her Polish origins. • Smile now signs her real name: Ella Iksni. This helped her blend in and face less recognized from people and the Ministry for being the “Ancient Magic girl.” • Smile works at St. Mungo’s as a special healer, using Ancient Magic. • Ominis (no longer Gaunt) is a successful investor and also works as a consultant for other investors. • Otto is “currently” almost 10 years old. • Ominis chose Sebastian and Anne as his son’s godparents. • Anne Sallow married Andrzej Iksni (Smile’s Muggle brother) in 1900 and lives in London. • Sebastian gave up his career as an Auror due to traumatic triggers and became a DADA professor—just like his father. • Sebastian Sallow (after studying and fully enjoying his youth) is now engaged to… ????

PART 2 next post. 🫶🏻

꧁༺.༻꧂

[leveragecreditrecovery]

A Message to You: Why “Mindset, Consistency, and the Fight for the Soul of Our Nation” Demands Your Attention

Dear Reader,

Thank you for making the time to connect with our work and efforts. Your commitment to understanding, contributing, and supporting the important conversations that shape our communities means more than words can express.

I’m inviting you to read my latest article,

https://open.substack.com/pub/tyroneglover/p/mindset-consistency-and-the-fight?r=1rkcyh&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web

“Mindset, Consistency, and the Fight for the Soul of Our Nation: An Open Call for Accountability and Unity.”

This piece is not just an article—it’s a reflection, a challenge, and a call to action. In it, I delve into the values that define us as individuals and as a society, and I ask you to consider a fundamental question—one that holds the power to shape our future.

What is that question? You’ll have to read to find out.

This article will take you on a journey through the role of mindset in fostering change, the power of consistency in shaping our collective destiny, and the critical need for unity in the face of division. It’s a heartfelt appeal to take accountability for the kind of nation we wish to leave behind, with practical insights and thought-provoking ideas to inspire action.

By reading, you’re not just consuming content; you’re becoming an active participant in the fight for a better, more united future.

Thank you for being part of this journey, for your thoughtful participation, and for believing in the work we’re doing to inspire change. Your support fuels the mission and reminds us all of the power of community.

Let’s fight for the soul of our nation together.

With gratitude and hope,

Tyrone Glover

CEO of Leverage Credit Recovery /

Founder of Yonkers Young Entrepreneurs / NAACP, Economic Development Committee Chair / Advocate / Activist / Honorable Discharged Veteran United States Army

[sanzaibian]

I turns off my phone angrily. I have barely touched down to Pudong International Airport, and now I have to call my Shanghai agent about how I’m going to be late, and that “China Eastern”, that company full of crooks, doesn’t even want to compensate my $4200 business class ticket for being 2 hours late.

“Allô ? C’est Julien, je suis enfin arrivé à Shanghai. (Hello ? It’s Julien, I’ve finally touched down at Shanghai.)” I say to my local correspondent, the one responsible for dragging me here.

- Enfin ! Ça fait une heure qu’on vous attend ! (Finally ! We’ve been waiting for you for a whole hour !)

- C’est pas ma faute ! Le vol a eu deux heures de retard à cause de soi-disants ‘vents forts’ vers la Mongolie… et ces escrocs ne veulent rien me rembourser… typique… (It’s not my fault ! The flight was two hours late due to so-called ‘powerful winds’ around Mongolia… and those crooks don’t want to reimburse me… typical…)” I answer, annoyed.

- Bon, de l’Aéroport de 浦東 (Pudong) jusqu’ici… pff… je vais devoir leur dire de revenir cet après-midi… (So, from 浦東 (Pudong) Airport to here… ugh… I need to ask them to come back this afternoon…)” He says, similarly annoyed, though seemingly flaunting his perfect pronunciation in Chinese.

- Ne râle pas sur moi, j’ai rien fait ! Je savais que j’aurais dû prendre Air France, ils n’auraient pas eu de retard comme ces asiates… (Don’t dump it on me, I did nothing ! I knew I should have gone for Air France, they wouldn’t be late like those chinks…)

- Roh… (Ugh…)” He sighs a while. “Je vais m’occuper de tout. Juste… viens aussi vite que possible. (I’ll manage. Just… come here as soon as you can.)”

I turn off the phone. As if I would waste a minute of my life… I’m Julien Blanc, and my time is money, just like the saying goes. As the heir of a multi-million dollars worth banking company, I have investments left right and center, and can’t let the next golden goose escape me.

Recently, a well-known investor, Pierre Zhang, let me know of a promising startup here in Shanghai. While at first I was understandingly skeptical, after all chinks are known for their plagiarism, I did check the project and found it to be unique, and even viable.

While I do know that Pierre Zhang is half one of them, so he does take their side much more than a regular person would, this time he saw a good opportunity. And it will be botched due to an incapable company that spouted nonsense about “strong winds” or something and was late as a result.

Angrily, I stomp in the giant airport halls, guiding myself thanks to my impeccable English – though, just don’t listen to the pronunciation. I’m stopped multiple times for security checks, and I do swear on them a couple of times, but they deserved it for wasting my time even more.

However, as I was striding in the main hall in order to find the metro station, seeing more and more of those chink hooligans, one of them shoves me to the side. He’s wearing a mask like the pussy he is, as well as a ridiculous oversized hoodie, some laughable jewelry and undistinguished sweatpants.

He’s left as soon as I turn around, meaning I can’t berate him. Youth these days are really insufferable. Where I grew up, on the Saint-Louis island in Paris, we weren’t even half as rude as today’s kids.

Scoffing, I continue rushing to the metro, though I kind of feel dizzy. Did he give me a disease or something ? When I reach the metro shoot, I see a barrier with policemen. Apparently they’re scanning for the coronavirus – they’re still doing that ? – by checking our temperature.

I go in the barrier, confident that I’ll pass the test, when suddenly, my path is blocked.

“Sorry, sir, please come with me.” Said a policewoman in her heavily accented English.

- What are you doing ! Let me go, I did nothing wrong !” I protest with a similarly accented English.

The policewoman doesn’t answer me and leads me to a small room in the airport. There, I see a bunch of other people with masks, waiting on seats. Showing me a mask, the policewoman explain :

“You may be sick. Take a mask and wait. - I’m going to be late ! Nothing’s wrong with me, just let me leave !” I say, though I don’t notice my accent shifting a little.

- Wear it or face consequences.” The policewoman insists, dangling the mask in front of my eyes. I sigh.

- Okay, but make it quick. I’ll wear 一只 (one).”

I squint my eyes. How did I say ‘one’ ? It feels incorrect, have I accidentally used French ‘un’ ?

I take the mask and wear it, still squinting. I still feel dizzy, so I guess the policewoman must have been right ? I take my phone out, wanting to send a quick message to Pierre about me being late, but something seems wrong.

When I look on my phone, there’s a weird app named 抖音 that has been installed. I don’t remember doing that. In fact, why is there even a Chinese app on my phone !

I click on it, and suddenly, videos start playing. I squint my eyes as I look at the videos of ch… Chinese people doing a variety of things. First it’s a video of a cat rubbing on someone, and that guy exclaimed “它真的是只饥渴死的猫啊！”, with then the woman filming answering, with a hurried tone “快摸它啊，你干嘛在那儿等呗？真冷啊。”. Even though I don’t understand a word that is said, I can guess that the woman is telling the guy to go rub the cat.

It’s funnier than I expected. Turns out the Chinese have more humor than I thought. Then, another video comes on, showing a guy, looking just like that punk from earlier, saying “穿这种衣服，我干嘛不会感丢人哎？(… these clothes… … lose face ?)”, and the camera pans out to a woman in a cockroach outfit. The punk continues “你已经三十岁了，为什么还在买这种衣服了？(… thirty years old, why still buy… ?)”, the woman answers “你现在我穿什么你都要管吗？(You... right now what I wear… your business ?)”. The punk then comes back into frame, with the woman on the left, asking “没有情侣版吗？哪只手我该牵啊？(There isn’t a couple’s version ? Which hand should I hold ?). Then, the woman shows a tendril, and they hold hands like that. I smile, finding it way funnier than it should.

I don’t really notice how I understand more and more what’s on 抖音 (Douyin), though I do let myself grow limp on the waiting room chair. I guess I don’t have much regards anymore for how I look, after all I’m waiting for a coronavirus test. Nobody’s going to comment on my posture !

The next video shows three guys running, with the caption 三人跑步时能干什么 (What can three people do while running together ?), and I see how their hair bop up and down. I’ve been shaving myself bald for quite a few years, ever since I was balding too much for me to bother with hair, but seeing these guys like that makes me a bit nostalgic of that time.

Seeing them doing stupider and stupider stuff, and smiling more and more as they show bungee jumping, doing pull-ups, playing games, stir-frying and even boxing, I feel a bit weird. Like I can kind of relate, in my youth I also did crazy things, and it would absolutely be something I would have done with my friends. I scratch my head, feeling it tingle, as I continue watching the next video, not even realizing my squinting is less and less strenuous.

The videos continue trickling in, every one more humorous than the last, and I catch myself chuckling out loud multiple times. By now, I understand everything very clearly, and when a doctor comes to do a coronavirus test, I don’t even blink when he addresses me in Chinese :

“少年，请跟我进走。(Young man, please enter with me.)

- Yes, 先生。(Yes, sir.)” I answer, mixing English and Chinese.

Everything is confused as he takes me to a machine, my thoughts mixing French, English and Chinese. Even my clothes feel… less tight than they used to. Almost as if they were melting and becoming glue.

I take place in the machine and he activates it. I feel as if things become clearer while I’m in. Like, for example, why was I stressed just now ? I don’t have anything important to do right now. And why languages are mixed ? I guess it’s because it’s cooler to mix in English…

The machine stops, and I leave it, scratching my straight hair. Had I ? … no, of course not, it’s my facial hair that I shave…

The doctor hands me my piercings.

“Euh, attendez, 先生，有什么不对了…… (Er, wait, sir, there’s something that’s not right.)” I ask, mixing French and Chinese. I really feel like something is not right.

- 什么发生过了？会跟我谈一谈。(What happened ? You can discuss it with me.)

- 我……有个奇怪的感受。Est-ce que 您找到了种疾病吗？(I… have a weird feeling. Did you find some kind of disease ?)

- 没有。但是您不舒服的话我肯定会给您扑热息痛。(I didn’t. However, if you don’t feel good, I can give you some paracetamol.)” He answers me, with a helpful look.

- 该好了。Merci. (It should be good. Thank you.)”

I take the pill he gives me, and put my piercings back on as I go back in the terminal. As I walk, I feel very comfy, as if everything was alright. I look down on my large oversized hoodie with its colorful prints. I feel like I’m in my youth once again… huh, it’s so weird to say that when I’m only... 23 years old !

Suddenly, I get a phone call from a weird contact I don’t remember having, someone named 张皮尔 (Zhang Pi’er/Pierre). I accept the call :

“喂。是谁？(Hello. Who’s there ?)” I ask, with a perfect accent.

- Julien ? Pourquoi tu parles chinois ? (Julien ? Why do you speak Chinese ?)” He groans, then switches to Chinese. “是我问您是谁。是您的电话吗？(I’m the one asking you who you are. Is it your phone ?)

- 当然是。我是个富二代，为啥要偷手机啊？(Of course. I have a trust fund, why would I steal a phone ?)” I slur, my speech becoming more and more relaxed.

- 嗯……那您是谁啊？您认不认识Julien Blanc ? (Ugh… So who are you ? Do you know Julien Blanc ?)

- 是白炬亮。那你到底是谁啊？(I’m Bai Juliang. And now can you tell me who you are ?)

- 是张皮尔……嗯……听我说一下。你有没有多钱会投资？我认为了Julien Blanc要投资新项目，但你还会投资一下。有没有兴趣？(I’m Pierre Zhang… ugh… Listen. Do you have a lot of money to invest ? I thought Julien Blanc would come and invest in a new project, but you can still invest. Are you interested ?)”

I think for a while. It could be great to have some money coming from another place than my parents’ company… plus, I don’t want to have to join it, or risk being cut off from my money…

However, there’s time, I’m still young, and there’s no rush right now… Plus, having work is, like, a lot of work, and I don’t want to work… But I have an idea.

“张先生，你想不想跟我投资？我给了你钱币，你给了我专业，收入分两半。感觉好吗？(Mr. Zhang, do you want to invest with me ? I give you the funds, you give me the expertise, and we divide the profits in half. Do you like that ?)”

After a while, he answers :

“感觉好了。(I think it’s good.)”

[scarletttries]

Roman Roy x Age-Gap! Reader Headcanons:

Pairing: Roman Roy (Succession) x Reader

Word Count: 2k (warning: mention of Logany child abuse)

Author’s Note: Oh Roman Roy, you're really making me fall in love with your sad little face and your slightly softening heart this season. Thank you for this request, please enjoy these thoughts about Roman Roy with a younger, but still very much legal adult, reader. Also please fill my inbox with Kendall and Roman requests because I am thinking about little else! 😊

Update! Part two here 😀

- Roman Roy has always felt simultaneously like he's never really grown up, and that he was never allowed to be a child. Growing up as the youngest son of Logan Roy he wasn't allowed the chance to make the silly mistakes of childhood folly. Logan had been through that before and frankly he needed Roman to be a serious adult from the moment he could comprehend his father's disapproving glare. Naturally this was an impossible ask of a small, sensitive boy, and led to blows to back of the head when tears threatened to stain the silk shirt he'd been so uncomfortably forced into for another endless press event where he stood like a prop, just desperate not to get in any more trouble or let his dad down worse than he already had.

- As Roman entered adulthood he began to be left out of all the rooms where serious people met and talked about things he could never quite get right; he's wasn't self-interested enough, he didn't have those killer instincts, he couldn't rid his head of the thoughts of how many people would be affected by the company's every move. As Logan and Kendall started to tire of his quippy comments, relegating him to waiting outside for busy work, he could feel himself struggling to meet the thresholds of adulthood that Ken seemed to have carried with him for as long as Roman could remember. This dichotomy of boy and man left Roman feeling like he was never quite comfortable with his age, unsure what lense to see that number through. And then he met you.

- Getting a job at Waystar may have left you feeling a little morally uncomfortable, but you reminded yourself that ten years experience there and you'd be able to get any job in any industry you like, while also being able to pay for your own place. So you pushed that feeling down each day as you entered that office full of rich old white men. Given you'd actually had to earn your place there, rather than just knowing someone, it wasn't long until your work ethic, intelligence and ingenuity had you climbing the corporate ladder in your department and getting you noticed by some of the much higher-ups. Naturally they tried to just take credit for your work, but when the day came that Logan actually asked for an explanation of a report you'd produced, Frank had no choice but to put you in a room with the big boss face-to-face.

- You'd heard nothing but bad things about Logan Roy and as he stared at you in pure contempt while you answered his questions, wondering why his time was being wasted with this young thing from the bullpen, it took all your resolve to hold your nerve, giving short answers and trying not to give him anything to hold over you. Every so often you'd let your eyes flick over his shoulder to the man standing behind him, ten years older than you but pulling at the sleeves of his shirt like a little kid as he watched you face the interrogation, outwardly seeming far more nervous about the situation than you did. After fifteen minutes of watching you hold your head high and speak so confidently about your work, Roman was staring at you unashamedly in a mix of awe, intrigue and disbelief. Despite the age gap you seemed to have all the facets of a self-assured adult that he felt he'd never quite unlocked, while exuding the joyful exuberance of youth he'd never been allowed. He needed to know more about you, so when Logan shouted at Gerri to 'throw you in a dress and bring to this week's investor mixers' he could feel his heart pounding in his chest at the sheer hope and possibility of the answers you might hold.

- You weren't thrilled to spend your evenings surrounded by colleagues, stood to attention in case anyone needed a question answering, but you didn't hate the full railing of designer evening wear that had been sent to your apartment for the occasion. You found yourself trying to blend into the shadows of a corner, unsure of your place in this room and this crowd, wondering if any of the food on display was actually for eating, or if that would be seen as a massive faux pas. Luckily Roman had been keeping an interested eye on you all evening; who you'd spoken to, what you'd been dressed in, the frankly adorable face you'd pulled when Frank handed you a Whiskey twice your age and you took a very unwilling sip, feigning appreciation before slinking away to stick your tongue out at the burning taste. And finally he built up the nerve to approach you now that you were alone, trying to approach casually by picking up a grape from the ornate platter beside you, only to take a bite, realise it was plastic and having to hand it mortified to a waiter that had watched the whole thing from your side. He could feel the blood burning in his cheeks as he watched you try and stifle a laugh, both mortified that you already knew he was a fool and pleased that he'd been able to bring a smile to your face this evening.

"Yeah yeah fuck you." He laughed as he stopped just in front of you, all the words he'd planned to share failing him now that he was close enough to see the beauty in your sincere smile as you shook your head,

"Really I should thank you, now I'm one step closer to figuring out what's actually edible here." You replied with a warmth that almost made Roman recoil, so used to the icy chill he usually received from those around him.

"Well certainly not that whiskey." He nodded to the short crystal glass you'd been trying to put down since Frank handed it to you, tone sarcastic but without the cutting edge he was usually one to deliver. "Why is that the one thing these old fucks actually like to be their own age?" As you laughed again Roman felt a little victorious, he had set himself a pretty low bar but he was confident he was going to be the highlight of your evening.

- As you spent the next week being dragged to different events, you'd always find Roman slinking to your side before the night was through, as if you'd always been old friends, just counting down the hours of everyone else's company. You'd counter his one-liners and then ask him where he'd rather be on a Friday night and make him realise he didn't really know any other kind of night. So when you'd list off your weekend plans, and hobbies and interests, and tell him stories about your friends that had his hyena laugh echoing across the otherwise solemn room, he'd start to realise just how much he was missing out on, and how much he wanted to explore that with you as his guide.

- It stopped being enough, just finding you on odd evenings. Roman would start finding your desk at Waystar, pretending to just be wandering through a junior office coincidentally. He'd glance at his wrist, ignoring the fact he'd forgotten to put on a watch this morning, and comment that as 'technically kind of your boss' he needed to make sure his best employees were actually taking a lunch break, and also were you hungry? Sometimes during the day he'd just melt onto the floor beside your desk, chatting about nothing as you tried your best to type and pay him the attention he so desperately craved. He'd start having all of his meetings in the rooms on your floor so he could wave at you as he walked past the huge glass windows keeping your team contained, an apt metaphor for the walls up inside him he was worried you'd never cross.

- Poor insecure Roman, he'd really try and force himself to ask you out, but ultimately he'd be so afraid of the potential backlash of rejection, that it would be up to you to finally ask if he wanted to grab a drink after work, one Friday when he'd been particularly clingy. You'd take him to a fun, casual bar and watch his eye's light up at people playing darts or ordering fried food and generally the nice, relaxed atmosphere where he didn't feel he had to be the smartest person in the room. Occasionally a friend of yours would walk in a wave and ask how you were doing, and you'd introduce Roman as your friend with no shame or regret and he'd say something funny and get the same rush of pride at making you laugh that he did the first time, and he'd feel like maybe the more time he spent getting to know you, the better he could see himself, still young at heart but not the kid he once was. His lost childhood and misspent youth given a second chance as you offered to see him again next weekend.

- Once you open the affectionate floodgates Roman would be the clingiest koala you can imagine. He'd rarely be as direct as holding your hand, especially not in public, conscious of looking just like his father with a younger woman on his arm. But in the privacy of your little apartment, the one Roman fell in love with the moment he saw it, he'd take a slightly threadbare throw and toss it over the both of you as he all but crumbled into your lap when he wanted to talk about something he thought would make you run. Opening up about his father's wrath and his warped view of himself, glancing up periodically to check you hadn't ran away and left him behind, finding softness in your eyes instead of disappointment and sinking even more deeply into you.

- Roman would think you are an absolute fucking genius for everything you've done for yourself. Worked hard to be the best at your job? Genius. Manage your own bills and do your own laundry? Genius. Carry a water bottle around and make him drink some when he has a headache and somehow he feels better than he has in years? Genius.

- Roman would follow you to hell and back, but you'll have to forcibly remove him from your apartment when you want to go outside. He's never been somewhere that actually felt like home, every soft furnishing and mismatched bowl making him want to haunt your halls forever. If you ever make him a home cooked meal, he'll act like it's not a big deal, but honestly he's crying inside that anyone would go through the effort for him, and that he was the person they chose to be around. Cut to him going thrifting with you to buy five new dishes for you to cook in next time, plus anything else you like.

- Occasionally you'll successfully get him outside for a hike, or a walk, or even a day at a museum or arcade; and Roman will go full toddler on you. Pointing at everything excitedly, running around and shrieking, making sure he was your undivided attention and dragging you by the hand to look at everything. By the time you're home you're ready to collapse, only to notice Roman surreptitiously placing a little souvenir somewhere on your shelf, sneakily bought from a gift shop while you were in the bathroom, before pretending he has no idea how it got there.

- Roman is so enraptured by the incredible, rounded human-being that you are, that eventually some of your self-belief would start to rub off on him, making him feel more sure of himself than he ever has before. Thinking less about the approval of others (except you, he still desperately wants that), feeling confident in his ideas, and no longer feeling like he's stuck in Peter Pan mode - despite falling for someone ten years his junior, Roman would finally feel like he was becoming the man he was always supposed to be, thanks to you.

Let me know if you want a part two of this!

[world-of-wales]

NEWS -

EARTHSHOT AWARDS 2025 ARE TRAVELLING TO RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL 🇧🇷

The Prince of Wales, Founder & President of the Earthshot Prize, announced that the 2025 edition of the Awards will be held in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. He said :

"2025 marks the midway point of the Earthshot decade and each year, we've witnessed the remarkable power of human ingenuity in addressing our planet's most pressing challenges, As we bring The Earthshot Prize to Brazil, a nation rich in biodiversity and environmental innovation, we are seeing fresh momentum for new ideas to create healthier and safer ways to live our lives."

The Awards will be held for the first time in South America keeping in mind the plank created by the upcoming COP30 Summit in the country as well as the unique position enjoyed by Brazil as the world’s most biologically diverse country that plays a critical role in global efforts to protect and restore precious natural resources and ecosystems.

As per reports by various media sources, the awards will be held in November ahead of COP Summit which will also be attended by The Prince of Wales.

The multi-day celebration will see Earthshot will host a series of events to elevate the world’s most promising environmental solutions, catalysing support and investment to scale their impact.

The events will culminate in The Prize’s annual awards ceremony, during which five global solutions will each win a £1 million award to support their continued growth.

The winners will be chosen from the 15 Earthshot Finalists from across the world who will be chosen by the Council later the year.

Following their selection, the finalists will take part in a year-long accelerator programme that provides mentorship, technical resources, and support for growing their businesses, as well as access to a global network of partners across business, philanthropy, and investment.

Apart from this, there are a few ways Earthshot is doing things differently this year :

Alongside global entries, The Earthshot Prize will also be reviewing 232 unique solutions head quartered in Brazil and the rest of South America this year.

It will engage with partners, innovators, and youth across Brazil during the year to identify ways it can further support innovative Brazilian projects to scale.

It will visit all five regions of the country over the next several months, meeting with Brazilian start-ups, entrepreneurs, and local communities, attracting new nominations, and strengthening partnerships with investors and organisations that can support the scaling of Brazilian solutions.

Additionally, to strengthen its presence in Brazil and to amplify the stories of inspiring Brazilian solutions, Earthshot will partner with GLOBO throughout the year to emphasise the urgent need to accelerate innovative solutions.

More details about the Earthshot Prize in Brazil and the awards ceremony in Rio de Janeiro will be released soon.

[kens-ramblings]

i <3 when tim is JANET’s son. like not the drake boy, not when he is nobody’s son. i eat up every fic that makes them basically identical and he acts just like her once he becomes CEO at WE. him pulling out the janet drake smile to put the fear of her into investors. when he pulls up to the gala and has bruce tripping bc he thinks it’s janet out of the corner of his eye. i read a fic where they had like a masquerade gala and tim wore janet’s old mask that she wore every year(and it was passed down janets side of the family which was cute) and did makeup similar to hers and the amount of people in it that were like “janet?? what are you doing here? you’re literally dead? well gotham i guess?? oh! timothy dear i thought you were your mother!!” and tim was like “oh my goodness what a coincidence! i’m glad i could honor her and her tradition so well!” and in his brain he was like “all according to plan bitch😈” and it was amazing. i adoreee shit like that.

like was she always around? no. do most people assume she didn’t have much to do with tim when she was? yes. but it’s directly the opposite. she was using any time she had with him to teach him exactly how to succeed in life and business. he can be just as calculated and cruel if need be. he has dirt on EVERYONE in the gotham elite(plus some if they are from another city and have anything to do with gotham even in the loosest sense) and he is not afraid to use it to get his way. but that’s not all did with him either. she carded her fingers through his hair and listened to him ramble about his hero’s and photography. she quietly taught him how to apply makeup when he sat with her while she got ready for galas just because he thought it was interesting. he learned how she did her hair once his hands were no longer clumsy and pudgy from youth just so they could have one more way they could bond during their gala routine. she sang him lullabies when she could. but not even jack saw that softness from her. it was reserved just for tim.

just tim and janet having a special bond that nobody will ever quite understand>>>>>

p.s. janet and bruce went to school together and she def made him cry multiple times. hence why he shits a brick every time tim goes full janet on someone in a meeting or at a gala