#exotic equipment

[zationao3]

In the darkness brightly, ch 6

The one where Dean’s not so sure that fog is natural and what the hell are those tracks leading up from the water?!

Chapter 6: The yearning

In which Sam arrives in Fisherman’s Cove and where Dean and Cas completely give in

[thefirstknife]

Getting real sick of a certain subset of Destiny players complaining that it’s a baby game and crying to Bungie to nerf exotics and abilities when their ENTIRE POINT IS TO BE STRONG in specific ways as if they are being locked into using them.

IF YOU WANT AN EXTRA CHALLENGE STOP BEING SUCH A DPS GOBLIN AND JUST EQUIP SOMETHING THATS NOT TOP TIER META AND STOP COMPLAINING JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

MOOD. Go off.

It's incredibly annoying to me. They always use the argument of "the game should FORCE me to do things, I should not SELF-IMPOSE challenges." And like. ? I'm sorry but what? It's a video game for a big audience, it's here to be playable and accessible to the widest possible playerbase. There are plenty of ways to make the game difficult for yourself, so knock yourself out if that's your thing, but don't force others into it.

Like, I enjoy hard content, I regularly at least attempt day 1 raids, I do master raids, GMs, solo and solo flawless content and all that. But only when I want to. Sometimes I don't and I don't want to suffer in a patrol zone or struggle in a seasonal activity I'm doing for the story. The majority of the players don't want that. Designing games for the professional gamers only has NEVER been a good idea and never will be. Fifty streamers can't sustain a video game. It needs casual players who will want to come back to the game instead of feeling defeated.

One of the reasons I really enjoy helping others is because I know that casual players tend to struggle in stuff that's basic activity for me. I've seen people unable to get through a strike. I've sat for 10 minutes rezing someone who couldn't do the jump in a seasonal activity. I want those people to be able to play basic content without feeling frustrated and I want them to know that there are people out there who will help them out.

And this doesn't apply just to basic content, although it should start with that. I think all dungeons and raids and everything should be things that all players can complete. Fine, doing a master raid with all challenges should be tough, but it should be achievable with time and practice, not impossible. What a lot of these "pros" want is just completely divorced from reality.

It takes days and days of practice every time a new master raid is out for me and my team (all with thousands of hours of playtime) to get comfortable to finally finish it. We're far from casual players and it still takes a lot of time to be able to finish hard content. Making it even harder is insane to me. Like, if something is so hard that my team full of people, each with 5000+ hours of playtime and a coordinated team that's been raiding together for years now can't finish it, that means it's absolutely impossible for probably 90% of the playerbase. That's wild to me. Raids and GMs should have more people playing them. If master raids are too easy for you, Mr. I-Play-Destiny-For-A-Living, that's on you buddy. Unequip the super god tier god roll meta guns and loadouts or play something else.

And ofc, another excuse they make is "if I don't use meta, I am not going to win a raid race!" Then don't. Idk. Let me play you the tiniest violin. This affects literally nobody except a grand total of 50 people. Run your meta in day 1, and play with random shit otherwise. Play raids with all white weapons. Play without mods. Play without a HUD. Do things solo only. I don't know, make up a way to spice things up for yourself. I'm not interested in that and neither are 99% of the players out there. The game is genuinely hard enough for the majority of the players. On top of that, I am here to feel like a powerful space fantasy superhero. I am NOT here to die to dregs in patrol zones. If there's ONE thing that I know for a fact that put people off from Lightfall (as in this year of Destiny), it's the difficulty changes. They're annoying, frustrating and for some a barrier to entry more than anything else.

[cantsayidont]

June 1961. The preeminence of Lex Luthor's 1986 reinvention as a billionaire industrialist has created a lot of misconceptions about his pre-Crisis counterpart, a "renegade scientist" who spent as much time in prison as out of it. This Edmond Hamilton story from ACTION COMICS #277 presents a good summation of how Luthor was positioned narratively in the pre-Crisis period (1958–1986). Luthor, who we see is not popular even among his fellow inmates, is asked to use his scientific genius to prevent a catastrophic incident:

After saving the bomber, Luthor uses his anti-gravity ray to immobilize his guards, then carjacks Lois Lane to make his getaway. We then get our first glimpse of "Luthor's Lair," the villain's secret headquarters in Metropolis:

After touring his lair and getting a good night's sleep, during which he has a satisfying dream of defeating and humiliating Superman and his friends, Luthor devises a plan to rob Fort Knox. This succeeds marvelously: He uses a new shrinking ray inspired by his dream to shrink the guards, a "fourth-dimensional arm" to remove the bullion from the vaults, and "gimmicked trucks [that] can turn into planes" to carry the loot. When the commander of Fort Knox calls for Superman's help, Luthor is able to draw Superman away with a machine that creates what appear to be globes of Kryptonite (although they're actually "harmless fakes"). Afterward, Luthor is triumphant — but not for long:

A common complaint about the pre-Crisis Luthor (and other villains of his ilk) is that his plans make no sense because the super-scientific equipment he creates undoubtedly costs more than he could ever hope to recoup through the robberies he commits. (Stealing all the gold in Fort Knox might be an exception, but it's hard to see his being able to convert more than a fraction of the gold to liquid cash.) That's true so far as it goes, and it's a legitimate complaint about some of Luthor's '50s appearances, but this story, like many later Silver Age and Bronze Age Luthor stories, makes plain that money is really not what Luthor is after. He's driven mostly by ego, with his hatred of Superman functioning as a useful object for that drive. Interestingly, in Luthor's dream, when he has the Man of Steel at his mercy, Luthor can't make up his mind about what to do with his foe:

The Silver Age and Bronze Age stories generally present Luthor as a kind of quasi-hero. He exists in the same kind of demimonde of secret headquarters and fantastic gadgets as heroes like Batman, and like them, he applies his extraordinary skills not to conventional pursuits of wealth, power, or social progress, but to his own somewhat quixotic personal quests. It's true that his elaborate schemes seldom seem likely to make him any money, but that's equally true of Batman or the Silver Age Green Arrow, to say nothing of Superman — Superman could certainly engineer a more lavish lifestyle for Clark Kent than his Daily Planet salary provides, but he's never shown any interest in doing so, and people rarely question that.

Of course, Superman also performs various acts of heroism and altruism (not all of which involve fighting crime), but Silver Age stories repeatedly emphasize that Luthor can and occasionally does do that as well, and even when he has an ulterior motive, Luthor's efforts are usually surprisingly sincere. This is most evident in the stories set on Lexor, a distant world whose inhabitants think Luthor is a great hero, but even in this story, notice that Luthor does in fact save the bomber from crashing before using his device to escape. To the extent that the stories present Luthor as a tragic figure (which they do surprisingly often), the tragedy, as the unnamed government official remarks in this story, is that he only rarely applies his talents "to the good of mankind." On the other hand, that's also true of Batman and the rest of Superman's Justice League colleagues, who could certainly use their abilities to benefit society beyond simply fighting crime and upholding the status quo, but choose not to.

The pre-Crisis Luthor, then, is not simply a villain, but an inverted hero: His logic and his motivations are very similar to those of his superheroic counterparts, except that the (equally arbitrary) lines around what he is and isn't willing to do are drawn somewhat differently.

[untilthenexttee]

REVIEW - Tour Edge Exotics E723 Driver

“Forgiving as Family” The Address In 2023, Tour Edge Golf announced its family of Exotics 723 golf equipment. The range featured a few models of irons and metalwoods divided into two categories. First, is the “C” or Competitve Spec which is typically targeted towards the “better player” (my recent Exotics C723 driver review can be seen here). Secondly, there’s the “E” or Extreme Spec which is a…

[kabuki-writes]

An Entertainment For The Gods

chapter: 2 chapter 1 | 3 | 4

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: Through an invitation from the Emperors themselves General Acacius and his daughter attend one of the bloody Gladiator fights at the Colosseum. But this time it is not only the brutality of the arena that encaptures Geta and Caralla.

warning(s): mention of violence | mention of alcohol consumption | swearing | sexual implications | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: -

word count: 2.5k

There was no bigger temple in Rome than the Colosseum. A monument to the Roman Empire, an architectural masterpiece as well as a slaughterhouse for humans and animals. They had to die for the amusement of the masses in the pale white sand and under the eyes of the Roman citizens as well as the Emperor's. You've never visited the arena before, it just wasn't the entertainment you usually seeked as you fancied the amphitheater and stage plays of comedies or tragedies. No one really died from a well-spoken dialogue and the stages weren't drown in blood afterwords. Your father was a similar soul with this. As someone who had seen war and death countless of times, Acacius developed a distaste for the useless killing, which he argued was the mere core of the collosseum's existence.

But while one would despise this form of humanity at its core brutality, other's simply loved it. First under Commodus the fights in the arena became more frequent, while Septimius Severus after him didn't change anything in that matter. Under Geta and Caracalla however Gladiator fights reached an all time high, especially those 'special' spectacles with exotic animals or ships. They themselves had an own Gladiator school under their wings, which was due to their wealth filled with the most skillful warriors and the best equipment, that it was almost unfair.

Given the fact that both twins enjoyed the performance in the arena and the bloody outcome, it wasn't surprising that they were frequent visitors. For the Emperor the colosseum had an own arena box with the best view over the inner pit and with two throne like chairs for each one of them to sit comfortably. It wasn't unusual for them to have guests here either and this time it was a special one. The moment Geta and Caracalla stepped out, the masses greeted and cheered for their Emperors, who - at least in Rome - offered them bread and games to forget the common sorrows of life. Both of them were dressed in the finest, colorful fabrics, while their golden laurel crowns throned on their heads. They waited for General Acacius at the balustrade to come forward, join them and speak to the people. He was still their celebrated hero, their triumph card, so to speak. It was an easy way to win the hearts of the people through a figure like Acacius, who was the ideal Roman.

After your father held a small, yet powerful speech about the braveness of the Gladiators they'll see today, a slave went forward to place a cushioned chair between the thrones of the Emperors. You hesitated a second, since usually you would be seated at the side of your father. "Since we've heard that you had never witnessed a fight in the arena befoe, we thought you might like a good view", Geta suddenly explained to you, before he sank into his own chair. "Please, sit down."

Your eyes went to your father for a quick exchange and you saw in them how he displeased this way of treatment, yet he nodded and you sat down. More and more you understood that the situation had a differnt tone in it. It wasn't mere courtesy why the Emperors treated you like that and given the way you'd read their eyes, it was more than clear that you've captured their interest. Usually any woman of the realm would fight for that privilege, but you had seen how your father acted in front of them, how worried he was when you first made your way to the palace - something was off. You knew you needed to pay attention and be cautious.

"Citizens of Rome, the arena welcomes you! Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla, we the people bow to your greatness and the mighty of our beloved Empire! Under the eyes of the sun the colosseum presents to you a spectacle like no other!", the high-toned, yet thunderous voice of the richly decorated announcer set the beginning of the show and drew all eyes on the white sand down in the arena pit, where a group of men in armor but with a limited equipment of weapons entered through a door from the Colosseum's catacombs. "First we present to you the brave Gladiators that will be our Theseus' today! They may not need to save their Ariadne, but they'll still have to face horde of Minotaurs today in an attempt to safe their own lives!" With those words a couple of other doors opened and six wild bulls entered the arena. Their massive and strong bodies stirred up the sands with every step of their big hooves. They may've been animals, but they had terrible weapons on their head with sharp horns that grew out of their heads.

Caracalla clapped with a joyful laugh. "Oh i love mythological pieces, even though they forgot the labyrinth!"

Your fingers nestled with the fabric of your dress in nervousness as you watched the men prepare themselves for the attack of the angry bulls, which were already pawing with their hooves. More than one set off to ran towards the Gladiators and given the fast but powerful movements of those animals, it didn't take long until the first fighter got overrun by them and another one faced the horns that drilled themselves like spikes into his torso, where blood spilled like a waterfall. The other fighters tried their best to ran or face the bulls with the few weapons they'd been given. One of them even striked down a beast by pressing his sword into its neck, when it was running towards him. You watched the spectacle with a neutral, yet pale face, while the Emperors seemingly enjoyed the show. Geta quickly noticed the way you followed the happenings down in the arena and leaned towards you.

"Are you not entertained, y/n ?", he asked you in a low voice, still loud enough to overcome the cheerings of the crowd. Your eyes went to him, facing the deep blue of his own, while you tried to put on a mask of apathy. "It is hard for me to understand, why useless killing is viewed as entertainment, I'm afraid," you answered, but it just got you an amused smirk in return.

"Oh it is not useless. You see, nothing is as entertaining as humanity itself. What lies more in our human nature than violence, power and the survival of the strongest? Without that, your father wouldn't be able to win all his great victories and our father would not have been able to secure the Roman Empire after the weak reign of the senate."

"And yet Emperor Marcus Aurelius believed that true strength isn't born in violence, but in mindfulness and kindness. The ability to speak, think and therefore to thrive for something higher than mere survival, is what distinguishes us from animals," you responded in a clear, settled tone. This sudden response surprised Geta clearly as his eyes widened and his fingers tensed up. Even Caracalla's eyes had left the arena for a moment and were locked at you. Even though he followed the fight down there, one of his ears had catched every word you'd said. What a sweet, naive woman you were... it made this whole moment even more interesting.

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched and at first you weren't able to tell if he found your words disrespectful or not. In fact, he'd not expected such a bold answer from a woman, especially not against an Emperor. And even though he wouldn't agree with you, it proved him right, that you were not a simple-minded girl. Naive maybe, but not dull.

"Interesting thought, my dear. But would you recite the words to one of these brave warriors down there too? Who will ll earn their freedom, if violence keeps them alive long enough? We offer them a precious gift, and in return they entertain us."

Your eyes went to the pit again, which was mottled in deep red blood now with only one man and one bull remaining. The moment was intense as both animal and human watched each other with intensity, before the bull stormed forward and the speer of the Gladiator, who waited for the perfect moment, hit his opponent. The massive body fell to the ground and the people cheered in Ecstasy. Geta and Caracalla clapped with admiration for the celebrated Gladiator, as he sunk to his knee and bowed to them.

The next round began after the exhausted and wounded 'hero' stumbled through one of the doors, back into the darkness of the catacombs, before he was replaced by a bigger group of Gladiators, who now had to face armed chariots. Their opponents wore the armory of old Sparta while they teared down one after one with their arrows. You leaned back in silence, watched by Caracalla, whose eyes were taking in her side profile for quite a while now. Even though he loved the fights down there, the blood, the violence... you encaptured him more right now. Your stern face, which carried a deep displeasure for this, while you tried so hard to hide it, it was captivating.

Everyone, even his own twin tend to underestimate Caracalla. Even though he was born a couple of minutes earlier than Geta and was therefore technically older than him, his stature was smaller and he wasn't as tall as his brother. This was accompanied by the fact that he enjoyed the pleasantries the god Bacchus had to offer him: wine, music, arts and sex - even more than Geta did. Together with his rather impulsive way of acting, it often led to the false thought that the more capable brother of them was Geta. Oh, Caracalla hated this, it was a misinterpretation weaved like a thread through his whole life. Because he had a gift, he could read people and together with his extensive web of information sources and spies within the city of Rome and beyond, he had a power that lied in the dark. And it was a preparation he did on purpose after he'd learned about the plot that was once set against Emperor Commodus. Some would've said it was paranoia, maybe it was, but he would call it 'preparation'. Nonetheless it came with the pleasant side effect of knowing a lot about the people around him.

"I've heard that you rather choose the theater over the arena", he said with a soft, yet unreadable smile on his lips. "You're a dreamer, aren't you?"

As you heard his voice next to you, your eyes quickly turned to him. "There is nothing wrong with dreaming, my Emperor...", you answered and he nodded quickly as if he'd hoped for that answer. Caracalla even grinned, his golden tooth gleaming in the light. "No, not at all." My Emperor. The way you've said it with your eyes looking at him. It electrified him, so much so that the cheers of the crowd almost faded in the background. You'd faced the pit and the fighters again, but he was still staring at you.

"Which play?"

"Octavia," the name almost shot from you mouth.

"And you consider yourself to be?"

"Octavia. And you?" You didn't even expected him to give you an answer on that, but meanwhile Caracalla's grin grew wider.

"Nero," he said just as fast as you'd answered before.

Your eyes instantly went back to the Emperor, whose eyes were now focused on the deadly fight between a Gladiator and a chariot rider. He couldn't hold back a chuckle, while he watched how the man pushed his sword through the neck of his opponent, ripping off his head.

Nero.

"Why?", you suddenly asked, this time it were your eyes, that watched him.

"I cannot blame him for setting himself free." His answer was almost like a whisper, yet you heard every word. It was a very unconventional way of interpreting the mad Emperor, one she herself would even despise, if he wouldn't seem to be so certain of it. It meant something more.

The arena fight slowly came to an end, when only to oppontents were fighting for the right to claim the victory. Nearly all of the Gladiators and chariot riders were dead, their bodys laying in the pale sand and drowining it with their blood, a weird composition of death that accompanied your questions about Caracalla's answer.

After a final hit, one of the men went down on his knees. He was wounded, severely, and he now felt the tip of a sword against his neck. He surrendered and the gods had to decide what will happen with him. One of the Gods was Geta, who stood up from his chair and approached the balustrade, while the crowd called for a decision. The Gods need to decide, yet Geta suddenly turned his head to you. "What do we say,...? y/n, should he live or die?"

Your face grew even paler than it already was, your fingers were almost digging themselves into the armrests of your chair. You felt a thousand eyes on you, even though it was only Geta and Caracalla watching you, as well as the eyes of your father from behind. The Gladiator waited, while his opponent's arm was cut off and his head was bowed down as if he awaited death. And the crowd screamed and screamend. Death, Death, Death, Death, Death.

It rang in your ears, you didn't want to make this decision. But the moment you faced the Emperor, just as you opened your mouth, Geta simply bowed his thumb down - Death.

And the sword went down. Death.

The head dropped in the sand followed by the body, the cheers errupted in the arena, screaming the name of the victorious Gladiator. But you just stared into the nothingness that was in front of you, while you bit your tongue to the point of pain. "Don't pain yourself about this, my dear. There was only one answer anyways," Geta said while he suddenly reached out for your hand and kissed your knuckles, before he took his glass of wine. You didn't move, you couldn't.

Caracalla stared at this scenery and his fingers were shaking as his eyes darkened. The intense urge came up his mind: To simply take his brother and throw him from this box into the pit, his neck breaking from the impact. Those thoughts sometimes came and went, but they got more intense every time he saw Geta interacting with you. And this interaction hit a new high point in him that was only interruped by your form the moment you stood up.

"My Emperors, it was a pleasure to join you, but i need to leave now...", you said in a tone that tried so hard to be polite and not carry any emotion, before you turned your back and quickly stepped out of the imperial arena box, followed by your father General Acacius, who bowed and excused himself in an equally neutral tone.

Both Geta and Caracalla watched them leaving, before the taller one of the twins took a deep sip of his wine. "She'll learn to love it sooner or later."

______________________________

Tags:

@barcelonaloverf1life @naysha140 @shinnerslighttt @mmkkzz @ange-olras @earfq0ake @honey-eyed-munson @koshkahhh

Please leave a comment, if you want to be tagged in the next chapter.

If you liked my fic, please feel free to like, reblog and leave a comment. I am always happy to hear your thoughts <3

[tickfleato]

"[x animal] is important to me and i love them" Okay then don't post pictures of people keeping them as exotic pets. Dipshit

it's a shame things went the way they did with the is-the-animal-media-cute blogs (i.e a few popular ones fucking constantly getting into stupid drama, a ton of memes popping up that kind of made them into a joke) because like. Those were genuinely useful i think for informing people about what is distinctly Not fucking good to see images/videos of online. i definitely see less of that kind of thing now than i did a few years ago but god it pisses me off

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!journalist reader

summary: a lil joke thing i wanted to write because homeboy is bringing home the big bucks 🤭

warnings: just read 🫵🏽 this is a crack fic lol

saint’s team radio 🎀: don’t take this all too seriously 😭 hope y’all enjoy plus who know i’ll actually make it into a thing 🧍🏽‍♀️

tags: @alika-4466 @purplelewlew @exotic-iris13 @arshiyuh @mauvecherie-writes @yeea-nah @youre-sooooo-funny @louvrepool @queenshikongo3 @cherry2stems @httpsserene @motheroffae

-

Being an independent journalist in this sport wasn’t easy at all but only within the parameters of any paddock around the world as most journalists rarely agreed with you, being neutral about anything in f1 wasn’t your thing.

Speaking your mind as the race went on was what set you apart from the rest, along with your humour and your honesty towards drivers and team principals. Not to mention you were extremely biased, keeping your liking to three to five drivers but only one occupied your mind every time you think about him.

I think you know who I’m talking about.

Your support for Lewis goes back to 2015, discovering the sport and immediately wanting to put your journalism skills to the test, aiming for the f1 paddock to at least catch a glimpse of the most talked about driver. Quickly building up a blog and several other social media accounts, you got to telling the world your thoughts and feelings for every race and your supporters rooted for you to achieve your goal.

Having the opportunity to attend thee race in 2020 as a guest of F1, you arrived at the Turkish Grand Prix with your head held high and a dress so gorgeous that it sparked rumours between you and the driver you were writing about. Not to mention the hug he gave you when you first met in the Mercedes garage, praising and thanking you for the support over the years. He’s been watching you and your work. That made your heart so warm.

Then he won his 7th world championship, breaking all records and that day, he deemed you his lucky charm.

And since then, it’s been a work wife-work husband friendship between you two. Fans constantly shipping you too, the clips of your shared interviews at the media pen of the intense eye contact and even off-track sightings once in a while such as a quick lunch.

yourusername • 13 mins ago

The atmosphere in Australia was unlike anything you’ve ever seen in your career, the paddock was practically painted red, Ferrari red to be specific. Everyone eager for Lewis to arrive as his first season as a driver for the legendary team.

Deciding to subtly support him and his new team, you rocked maroon everything, not yet ready to fully embrace the extreme bright red. It just might be your new favourite colour, from your hair right down to the tips of your high heeled boots.

Whilst setting your camera equipment up (gracefully given to you by Ferrari themselves), you couldn’t help but reminisce back to the year before of when he told you he was leaving Mercedes, a single facetime call in the nighttime.

“You made me pause the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, this better be good.” You said, placing the popcorn bowl down on your coffee table. Giving him squinted eyes, he just smiled at you.

“Are you alone right now?” He asked and that set aback for a bit. “You tryna do something funny, Lewis? Because you’re in Monaco right now and I’m at my house.” You raised your eyebrow at him, hiding how nervous you were to even suggest that to him but thankfully, he took it as a joke.

“No no, I’ve got some big news and I wanted to tell you before it gets out.” He replied, seeing how you stood up and placed your phone on your kitchen counter to prepare for this. “Okay, I’m ready. What’s up?” You clasped your hands together, not prepared to hear what came out of his mouth next.

“I’m moving to Ferrari next year.”

“You’re lying.” And all he did was smile as he saw your face drop at this news. He shook his head and that woke you to run around your apartment screaming. Running back to your phone, he was still there but just laughing his lungs out.

“Give me the details right now or else I’ll fly there. I’m not playing, Lew.”

A small smile was plastered on your face as you racked through the memories of that night and till that day, you still couldn’t believe it even though it was right in front of you. The media pen became louder and louder as you continued to mic yourself up along with connecting the mic to the camera and you immediately knew who caused the stir.

He already had such an aura surrounding him so much so that you could feel him whenever he entered the room. You were aware he arrived earlier and most likely changed but seeing the official team shirt on him was odd but fitting.

Lewis had a simple routine whenever he got to the media pen: everyone else then you because his time with you could be lengthened and he was so damn grateful that it was a Thursday because it meant even more time just walking around the paddock pretending it’s an interview when really, you guys were just spending time together.

After all the drivers had their interviews with you, laughing as they walked away because of some joke you told or happy that you asked different questions than everyone else. The man of the hour strolled over to your section with a look in his eye that gave you a shiver down your spine.

“Do not give me that look, Lewis. It’s weird seeing you in that shirt.” You said as he leaned against the barricade, maintaining eye contact with you. “I’m just taking in the red on you, it’s your colour.” He smirked at the reaction from you, the slight shock from the tone of his voice.

There was always a tad bit of tension between the two of you, feeling that twinge of a spark whenever he merely touched you. As you worked with over the years, you wanted your crush on him to diminish because that would just be unprofessional but he did not seem to care. At all. Often being spotted at various places together that he claimed were just two friends hanging out but just one look from him could have you in the clouds of days.

“Uh..huh. Wanna get these questions done or you wanna keep staring?” You asked with sass, watching him tilt his head a little and maintaining eye contact. “We can go right ahead, Y/n.” Lewis replied and you knew this was going to be a long interview.

Several questions later with a bunch of tension that you were sure the viewers would catch, you discreetly turned the camera to ask one of your infamous unserious questions that you did with every driver and you were sure this one were to get a laugh out of Lewis.

Holding the little card in front of you, you grinned with your left eye closing slightly more than the other. “It’s one of my favourite parts of any interview, unserious question time.” You said. “How unserious are we speaking here?” He asked with the slightest grin on his face just admiring you do your job.

“Only if you promise to answer it.” You said, holding out your manicured pinkie finger and Lewis hooked his with yours, solidifying the promise. “Okay okay, the whole world was shocked on how much Ferrari wanted you so much so that they literally doubled your salary.” You started.

“It’s now sitting at a hundred million a year. My question to you is who you gonna share it with and will it be me?”

“If you’re being serious, then it can be you.” He smiled and in that moment, your stomach dropped.

“Carl Davidson, I’m not playing around. Are you being for real?” You asked, lowering your voice so that no one could hear a thing.

He leaned in a bit more to whisper his next answer. “As real as you meeting me later on for dinner.” Lewis faced you then winked, walking away with your face still in shock. After standing there for what felt like forever, you felt your phone vibrate with a text from the man himself.

lew <3

you look gorgeous in red btw

-

yourusername

liked by theestallion, f1wags and 43,747 others

yourusername “anything you want, princess” — lewis hamilton.

view comments

user give me your game card

user you’re eating the red wig DOWN

spinzbeatsinc oh for him to buy me a g wagon

yourusername you already have one???

user you gold digging bitch

user no ways 😭

user not you using him for his money

user think about it, what is he gonna do with so much??

fan she got the chance and she took it, i gotta respect it

user i hope this is a hard launch because i’ve been shipping these two for YEARS

user me too!!

lewishamilton just say the word 🫡

yourusername 🤭🤭🤭🤭

saint’s team radio (again) 🎀: hope you all enjoyed! again, this is like a crack fic lol. there’s so many stories that’ll be released soon i’m excited 🥹 okay bye!

[mammalsofaction]

Y'know what would be really funny? If each of the Flynn Fletcher siblings KNOW/have suspicions about Perry's secret, but they each keep it to themselves for individual reasons. It's been pointed out before that Perry can get REALLY reckless sometimes, and other times the boys are too clever/know Perry way too well.

-CANDACE has actually seen and interacted with Perry in secret agent mode, particularly during the time she thought she was high off her rocker and Perry had to save her from a self destructing volcano. She's had dreams where Perry was a secret agent in them.

-She doesn't bring it up or think about it much bc she just has like. A lot of other more pressing priorities most of the time, which is so valid. Also I lowkey thinks she suspects she's got a hallucination problem, like with the Zebra? I get why she doesn't talk about it out loud: she sounds crazy enough to her mother as is without suddenly talking about how their exotic pet is a sentient secret agent in a fedora.

-FERB figured it out almost immediately that day he and Phineas accidentally fell into Perry's lair and they pretended to be "secret agents" for the day. HE knows he didnt make that lair. Everything was almost toddler sized, but functionally and professionally equipped for a working adult. There were only two "P" s in the family, and it clearly wasn't Phineas. Also? Everything was Platypus themed. He put two and two together.

-I figure he doesn't talk about it bc he lowkey knows why Perry doesn't tell them. He and Phineas have a lot of faith in Perry, and Ferb is a lot less emotional. If Perry refuses to tell them about his double life and where he goes, hes just gonna trust him.

-Im pretty sure PHINEAS subconsciously knows about the secret agent thing. From where? Africa. He 💯 spotted Perry in secret agent mode on the other side of the gulf while hanging from that vine, and between his siblings Phineas is CLEARLY the one who knows what Perry looks like best. He can pick Perry out from colour and smell from every other brown eyed teal platypus in the entire tri-state area. He not only recognizes his paw prints: he knows Perry's healthy weight distribution on them to know whether or not hes injured or limping. Like....my boy can be oblivious and autistic 98% of the time, but Phin is also REALLY self aware and trusting of his own eyes and instincts.

-He doesn't talk about it because hes in denial 👍

[sirfrogsworth]

I had no idea you're a professional photographer! I mostly follow your other blog for Corgis - if you posted your work there and I missed it, I apologize.

Your photography is AMAZING and thank you for sharing tips on light!

Bonus if you have time: when did you develop (haha!) interest for it and what's your favorite thing about this medium? ☆

Thank you. I have been trying to go back to my older work and edit things with my current skills and I have been posting that on occasion.

I also have an Instagram which is sort of like my current portfolio until I have the energy to create a proper website.

It's funny you mention corgis because Otis was the reason I got a proper camera. My followers helped me raise the money to get him and I felt like he belonged to everyone. So I wanted to make sure I took lots of photos of his shenanigans for people to enjoy. If they couldn't have a corgi of their own, I wanted them to live vicariously.

I never do anything halfway. I always go quite overboard. I filled my brain with everything I could possibly learn about photography so I could take the best possible photos of Otis.

In the process of doing that, I realized I loved the art form. So even though Otis isn't around anymore, I owe him for giving me this wonderful creative outlet.

I took a long hiatus from photography when my parents got sick and I had to take care of them. Even though I stopped taking photos, I would watch photography education to help me relax. And it felt a bit like that meme of the dude studying the blade. I was learning some very advanced stuff.

Once my parents both passed I found myself with a giant hole in my life. And photography called me once again. I was a bit rusty operating the camera for a day or two, but because I had continued my learning, it all came back pretty quick. And I realized I was orders of magnitude better at photography, lighting, and post processing than I used to be.

My first photoshoot after 7 years was of my aunt and uncle. I didn't have much in the way of lighting equipment (I sold it to help my family), so I bounced a little flash off one of those science fair trifold thingies.

These shots made me realize I definitely needed photography back in my life. I figured if I could do that with cardboard I found at Walmart, I would have great potential with proper equipment. So I'm in the process of building a new studio and getting some new gear so I can show off what I'm capable of now.

I ran into a little medical hiccup a few months ago which put everything on pause. While I'm recovering I'm not really able to take any photos. So I've decided to try and write some photography education and help others with their photographic journeys as best I can. And I am still continuing to learn and planning what I want to photograph when my health is in better shape.

I really want to do high quality animal portraiture. Not just cats and dogs. I want to find other exotic pets too. And I also want to do an art project where I help people take high quality photos of their parents. One of the things I was most grateful for after my folks died was the photos I took of them.

And also this one I took of my grandmother.

Having a really high quality photo of people you love is so important. And I don't think everyone realizes that. So I'm hoping I can help folks capture these important memories.

Oh, my favorite thing. I almost forgot. I would say it is the problem solving. Every photo is a new puzzle for me. Especially if I am working with artificial lighting and modifiers. I enjoy imagining a photo in my head and then going through the process, solving problems, and realizing what I imagined in real life. It's a great feeling.

This photo of my friend Ryan comes to mind. I just had this vision of someone reading in the middle of a forest. And so we dragged lights to my neighbors yard and I taped a flash inside the lampshade.

[haerenven]

My baby sweet like bubble gum

Pairings. Roronoa zoro x Fem¡Reader

summary. Fall over again, when he see his woman with child.

— (a/n): request are open darlings( ,,^ں^)

In the heart of a bustling port town, where the air was thick with the mingling scents of exotic spices and the briny kiss of the sea, the marketplace unfolded like a vibrant tapestry. Stalls brimmed with colorful wares, merchants’ voices rose in a harmonious cacophony, and the golden sun cast a warm glow over the lively scene. Amidst this symphony of life, the rhythmic clang of a blacksmith’s hammer resonated—a familiar cadence that spoke of craftsmanship and tradition.

The Thousand Sunny had gracefully anchored that morning, and the Straw Hat crew dispersed with purpose, each member attending to their designated tasks. Nami’s directives were clear: procure weapons, tools, and essential equipment to ensure the ship remained battle-ready. This mission was entrusted to you and Zoro—a pairing that balanced your poised agility and inner fortitude with his formidable presence and unparalleled swordsmanship.

As you navigated the labyrinth of stalls, Zoro’s discontent simmered just beneath the surface. “This is pointless,” he grumbled, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. His keen eyes scanned the array of weapons displayed, yet his interest seemed half-hearted. “Franky could’ve handled this.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you glanced sidelong at him, amusement dancing in your eyes. “And you’d trust Franky to choose your swords?”

He responded with a noncommittal grunt, his pride unwilling to concede the point. The blacksmith, a robust figure with hands etched by years of labor, observed Zoro’s scrutiny with a discerning eye, recognizing a fellow connoisseur of blades.

You exhaled softly, turning your attention to the parchment in your hand—a list scrawled with the crew’s requisitions. “Usopp didn’t specify the type of nails he needs,” you mused aloud, a hint of exasperation coloring your tone. “How am I supposed to know which ones to get?”

Leaving Zoro to his exchange with the blacksmith, your senses were suddenly attuned to a delicate sound that wove through the marketplace’s din—a child’s muffled sob. Your gaze swept across the bustling scene until it settled upon a young boy, no more than five years old, standing forlornly between a fruit vendor and a fabric merchant. His cherubic face was streaked with tears, his small hands clenched in distress, and his sobs quivered with the rawness of lost innocence.

Zoro remained engrossed in his discussion, oblivious to your departure. Drawn by an innate compassion, you approached the child with measured steps, lowering yourself to his eye level with a grace that spoke of both strength and gentleness. The boy’s watery eyes met yours, uncertainty flickering within their depths.

“Hello there,” you murmured, your voice a soothing balm amidst the clamor. “Are you lost?”

A shuddering breath preceded his reply. “I… I can’t find my mama…”

From his vantage point, Zoro’s attention was inexorably drawn to the tableau unfolding nearby. He observed as you extended a comforting hand, your touch light and reassuring, embodying a tenderness that contrasted with the fierce warrior he knew. This display of empathy resonated deeply within him, stirring emotions he rarely acknowledged.

“Don’t worry,” you assured the boy, your smile imbued with unwavering confidence. “We’ll find her together. I promise I won’t leave your side until i make sure you’re between your mother’s arms.”

The sincerity in your words struck a chord within Zoro. He had witnessed your prowess in battle, admired your unyielding resolve, but this manifestation of compassion unveiled a facet of you that deepened his admiration. In that moment, he found himself captivated, his affection for you blossoming anew, nurtured by the gentle strength you so effortlessly exuded.

In the vibrant heart of the bustling marketplace, where the air was thick with the mingling scents of exotic spices and the briny whisper of the sea, you knelt beside the lost child, your presence a beacon of solace amidst the clamor. The boy’s tear-streaked face mirrored his distress, his small frame trembling with the weight of his fear.

With a gentle touch, you cupped his cheek, your thumb tenderly brushing away the cascade of tears. Your voice, a soothing melody, enveloped him in a cocoon of comfort.

“Hey there, little one,” you murmured, your tone imbued with warmth and reassurance. “I know it’s scary being away from your mama, but I promise we’ll find her together.”

The child’s sobs began to subside, his wide eyes locking onto yours, seeking the truth in your words.

“Can you tell me your name?” you asked softly.

“Tommy,” he whispered, his voice quivering.

“That’s a brave name,” you replied with a smile. “I’m y/n, and this is my man Zoro.” You gestured toward the swordsman standing nearby, his usually stern expression softened as he observed the exchange.

Tommy glanced at Zoro, then back at you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly.“Do you remember where you last saw your mama, Tommy?” you inquired gently.

He sniffled, nodding. “We were by the big fountain… but then I saw a puppy and… and I followed it, and now I can’t find her.”You chuckled softly, the sound a balm to his frayed nerves. “Puppies can be quite the adventure, can’t they? But don’t worry, we’ll head to the fountain and start from there. How does that sound?”

Tommy nodded, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes. As you stood, still holding his tiny hand, you glanced at Zoro. “Ready to play hero, swordsman?”, Zoro smirked, his gaze warm as it met yours. “Always.”

Together, the three of you navigated the labyrinthine alleys of the marketplace, your presence a steady anchor for the frightened child. Vendors paused in their haggling, their gazes softening as they took in the sight of you—a captivating figure exuding both allure and maternal grace—and the stoic swordsman at your side.

With each step, you offered Tommy words of encouragement, your voice a constant source of comfort. “You’re doing great, Tommy. We’ll find your mama in no time.”

Zoro observed this with a mixture of admiration and awe. He had always been captivated by your vivacious spirit and the effortless way you commanded attention. But witnessing the depth of your compassion, the innate ability to shift from a tantalizing enchantress to a nurturing guardian, stirred something profound within him.

As you approached the grand fountain, a woman with frantic eyes scanned the crowd, her worry etched deeply into her features.

“Momma!” Tommy cried, releasing your hand to rush into her embrace.

The woman dropped to her knees, enveloping him in a hug that spoke of relief and unspoken fears. Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at you and Zoro.

“Thank you,” she breathed, her voice choked with emotion. “I was so scared…”

You offered her a reassuring smile. “He’s a brave boy. Just got a little sidetracked by a puppy.”

She laughed through her tears, hugging Tommy tighter. “Thank you,” she repeated, her gratitude palpable.

As you and Zoro turned to leave, he glanced at you, his expression thoughtful. “You handled that well.”

You shrugged, a playful glint in your eye. “Can’t let you have all the hero moments, can I?”

He chuckled, the sound rare and genuine. “Guess not.”

As you made your way back to the ship, the day’s events replayed in Zoro’s mind. Your captivating allure had always intrigued him, but it was your boundless compassion and the effortless way you balanced both facets of your personality that ensnared his heart completely.

In you, Zoro found not just a lover, but a partner—a woman whose spirit was as indomitable as the sea, and whose heart was as vast and deep.

The world narrowed to a single point—the heat of his touch, the force of his presence. One moment, you were walking beside him, the hum of the market still lingering in the air, the taste of your victory sweet on your lips. The next, his fingers found your chin, tilting your face toward him with a sudden, undeniable certainty.

There was no hesitation. No warning. Just him.

His grip was firm but reverent, like a man starved for something he had denied himself too long. And then—his lips crashed onto yours.

It wasn’t a kiss, not in the way most would define it. It was a claim. Fierce. Unrelenting. The kind of kiss that devoured, that pulled, that demanded. Like something inside him had snapped the moment he watched you kneel for that child, hands that could so easily carve through flesh instead cradling a fragile life, offering warmth, offering solace. The same hands that had steadied him in battle, that had pulled him from the edge more times than he could count, wiping away a stranger’s tears with the gentleness of a whisper.

And it wrecked him.

Something raw burned in the way he kissed you, like a blade dragged slow against the skin, a thrill laced with danger. Like the taste of salt on a storm-ridden sea. Like restraint unraveling thread by thread, and he was done trying to hold himself together.

His other arm stayed where it always did—resting atop his swords. An unspoken vow. That they would never come before this. Before you.

The breath you hadn’t realized you were holding left you in a soft sigh against his lips, and even in the chaos of his need, he felt it—felt the way you melted into him like the sea welcoming the tide. Your hands, once suspended in surprise, lifted slow, fingertips grazing over the taut muscles of his chest before sliding up, up, until your palm cupped his jaw. A tilt of your head, just enough to deepen the kiss, just enough to let him know—he had you, too.

Zoro wasn’t a man of excess words, but this? This said everything he never had.

You had him. Completely.

You had him in the way the ocean had the shore, in the way the sun had no choice but to rise. He had always admired you—the way you carried yourself like a siren, enchanting and untouchable. And yet, in that fleeting moment with the boy, you had been something more. Something softer. Something that shattered him.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was heavy, uneven, like a man who had fought the fiercest battle of his life and barely walked away standing. His forehead pressed against yours for a moment, fingers still cradling your chin as if letting go would undo whatever had just passed between you.

“…Tch.” He exhaled sharply, barely shaking his head, frustration bleeding into something else. Something he refused to name. His thumb brushed against your lower lip before his hand fell away, but his eyes—his eyes never left yours. Dark. Searching. Drowning. “Let’s get these fucking weapons,” he muttered, voice rough, guttural, like it had been dragged from the depths of him.

A slow, knowing smile curled at your lips, half-lidded and all sin, eyes drinking him in like he was something to be savored. Your teeth grazed your lower lip before releasing it with a soft hum. “Oh?~” You purred, voice thick with honey and amusement, fingertips tracing along the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the tension there, feeling the restraint barely holding him together. “Kiss me all of a sudden like that?”

Zoro scoffed, rolling his shoulders, trying—failing—to shake it off, but the flush creeping up his ears betrayed him. His grip on his swords tightened slightly, as if grounding himself. “Don’t you dare mock me for it.”

But the way his hand brushed against yours—so fleeting it could have been a mistake—told you everything you needed to know. A smirk ghosted across your lips, tilting your head just enough to let the words slip past them, sultry and teasing, laced with a promise he wouldn’t forget.

“You better return it back at night~”

Roronoa Zoro was a man slow to fall. But once he did—there was no escaping him.

[zationao3]

In the darkness brightly, ch 1

The one where Dean’s not so sure that fog is natural and what the hell are those tracks leading up from the water?!

Chapter 1: Fisherman’s Cove

In which Dean arrive in Fisherman’s Cove and where Cas learns of a new possible threat to his tribe

[revelboo]

May we have some Swindle love please?

Sure! 18+ 🌶️

Hangman Pt 3

Swindle x Reader

• “Wait, wait. I’ve got to set the mood,” he grumbles, carefully arranging pillows and plush furs into a decadent little nest for you. Had heard your little feet padding over to him after you changed, but he doesn’t bother to look. Too busy draping layers of sheer material in muted peach and pink colors as a backdrop. He’d already mass shifted to get closer to your level and to be able to handle the fidgety, alien equipment. Trying to set the stage, because while you’re the star, the mood has to be right. Exotic and soft. Oh, yeah. His patrons are going to eat this up. A live human. “Alright,” he murmurs, straightening and turning toward his recording equipment and stopping short. Your face red and hands awkwardly trying to cover yourself. “Oh, Primus you’re perfect.” Servos brushing your arm, he guides you to the stage he’s set up. “Let’s roll with that innocence, that uncertainty. Play the ingenue.”

• Embarrassed, you let his warm servos help you ease down among the furs and pillows. Not able to admit that it’s not an act, this is way out of your wheelhouse. Painfully aware of him as he adjusts your pose, and nudges your thighs together so you’re reclining. Knees together and heels drawn up against your body to somewhat hide you. ‘They’re going to love you,’ he says and you offer him a shy smile as he strides to the recording equipment. ‘That’s perfect. We’re rolling, babe.’ “Hi,” you whisper, smiling uncertainly at the camera and Swindle frowns. ‘No, smile like you just were.’

• And you stop staring at the camera to look at him, that shy smile back as he slowly nods his encouragement. “That’s right,” he growls. “You’re what they’re all waiting for. Wanting. Show them what they need and can’t have. Make them adore you, babe.” Watches you reach up to brush your hair back behind your ear, your fingertips sliding down the line of your throat. Hand lifting as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, uncertain and shy. Then your hand slides over a thigh. “Show them.” And you part your thighs, palms sliding along your inner thighs. Those eyes drifting away from his optics, dropping shyly as your fingers slide against yourself.

• Ignore the camera. Easier said than done, but with Swindle crooning soft encouragement, it’s a little less awkward. Fingers dipping into yourself, stroking until you’re slick. “Let’s them hear you, babe,” he growls. “If it feels good, makes some noise for me.” He’s awful. His visor bright as he watches pump two fingers into yourself. Encouraging you to be as awful, as wanton as you want to be. Tipping your head back among the pillows, you give in. Breath hitching, whimpering and sighing as you lazily play with yourself.

• Primus, those soft noises. In the vids, those humans are loud, urgent and theatrical, but your little sounds are almost lost to the wet sound of your fingers pumping inside yourself. “You’re so precious,” he whispers, knowing he’s going to have to edit out his voice, but he can’t help it. Can’t stop encouraging you. Because this is wholly different than those other videos. This is intimate. Shifting slightly behind the recording equipment as your hips rock slightly and you still for a moment with a shudder before slowly starting again. Realizing that while those other videos never did slag for him, watching you does, his spike aching where it’s trapped. “Show me how wet you are, babe,” he groans, knowing he’s going to have to take care of himself later in private. Watching you pull your fingers free, a thigh sliding to give him an even better view of you. Primus. “You want one of your toys?”

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[paper-mario-wiki]

to me, Science is just difficult to understand magic.

i mean this in the sense that, comparitively, magic in fantasy settings is typically understood down to a minute level without any sort of precision equipment to measure or quantify it, outside of vague "this orb tells us how much magic there is". the mechanics of it are left at least somewhat ambiguous, and the implication is that the laws of the universe, through some means, was consciously revealed to inhabitants of the world.

in our world-- the real world-- magic does not want to explain itself to us. it's just out there, in all its exotic majesty. and we've only been able to really crack into it in ways that are truly magical in the past two centuries.

[untilthenexttee]

Tour Edge Announces Wingman 800 Series Putters– A New Standard for Performance and Precision

BATAVIA, Illinois – Tour Edge Golf, a leader in high-performance golf equipment, unveiled its all-new Wingman 800 Putter Series. Designed to elevate the putting for golfers seeking maximum MOI properties, the Wingman 800 Series features six advanced designs focused on stability, feel, and consistent performance. The Wingman 800 putters are engineered with cutting-edge technology to maintain a…

[rod-tf]

New Gym, New Life

*This is my first story ever and english is not my first language so if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy it!* -Rafi💚

Daniel and Alex had been together for five years, living happily in their cozy apartment in the city. Both in their late twenties, they prided themselves on staying fit and healthy.

When a new gym opened just a few blocks away, they decided to check it out. The gym, named "Sahara Fitness", had a unique and exotic vibe, with its rich gold and deep red color scheme, intricate geometric patterns, and Arabic calligraphy adorning the walls.

As they walked in, they noticed that all the staff and trainers were Arab men; tall, muscular, and radiating confidence and masculinity. They greeted Daniel and Alex with warm smiles, their deep voices resonating through the gym. Despite the clear cultural influence, the place seemed modern and well-equipped.

"Welcome to Sahara Fitness," one of the trainers, Malik, said in a thick accent. "You two look like you already know your way around a gym, but we like to offer something special to our new members. A gift to help you get the most out of your workout."

He handed them each a small, ornate container filled with a dark, powdery supplement. "This is a traditional blend, used for centuries to enhance strength and endurance. Try it out during your workout, and you'll feel the difference."

Daniel and Alex exchanged a glance. They were a bit skeptical but intrigued. They had tried all kinds of supplements before, so they figured it couldn’t hurt to try something new. Thanking Malik, they headed to the locker room to change.

Dressed in their usual gym gear, the couple mixed the supplement into their water bottles and sipped. The taste was strong, almost spicy, with a hint of something they couldn’t quite place. Shrugging it off, they began their workout routine, starting with some light cardio before moving on to weights.

As they started lifting, both noticed an unusual burst of energy coursing through their bodies. The weights felt lighter, their movements smoother. They exchanged a surprised look but continued their sets, pushing themselves harder than usual.

After a while, they noticed something even stranger. Their bodies began to feel different—stronger, more powerful. Alex glanced at his reflection in the mirror and did a double-take. His usually slim frame was starting to bulk up, and his muscles were swelling with each rep. His fair skin seemed to be taking on a slightly tanned hue, and his facial hair usually trimmed and light, was darkening and thickening.

"Dan, are you seeing this?" Alex whispered, his voice sounding deeper than usual.

Daniel, too, was undergoing a transformation. His once smooth face was shadowed with a thickening beard, his jawline sharpening. His normally light hair was darkening to a rich, deep brown, and his skin was also taking on a more olive tone.

They both felt a strange warmth spreading through them, almost like a fire igniting from within. Their minds began to feel fuzzy, thoughts of their usual life together growing distant. Instead, they were filled with an intense, almost primal desire to lift more, grow stronger, and assert their newfound masculinity.

As they continued working out, their transformations became more pronounced. Their bodies grew more muscular, their chests broadening, arms bulging with veins as their biceps swelled. The hair on their bodies thickened, and their once soft features became rugged and masculine. The changes weren't just physical; their minds were altering too.

Daniel, now with a full, dark beard and intense eyes, glanced at a group of women working out nearby. He felt an overwhelming attraction towards them, something he'd never experienced before. The thought of Alex, his partner, seemed oddly foreign, replaced by a burning desire to dominate, to conquer.

Alex, too, felt a shift. His mind, once full of love and tenderness for Daniel, was now clouded with lustful thoughts. But he wasn't thinking about Daniel; it was women with soft curves and alluring smiles. The idea of being with a man seemed almost laughable now.

They both finished their workout, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from their now muscular, tanned bodies. The gym’s atmosphere, once just a backdrop, now felt like home, where they belonged and could be their true selves.

As they headed back to the locker room, they caught sight of themselves in the mirror. Gone were Daniel and Alex, the cute, loving couple who had walked in earlier. In their place stood two Arab alpha males, their bodies sculpted and powerful, exuding raw masculinity. Their eyes were dark and intense, their gazes filled with a new hunger.

Malik appeared behind them, a knowing smile on his face. "Ah, I see the supplement has worked well. Welcome, brothers. You are now part of our tribe, our brotherhood. The old you is gone. You are reborn, stronger, and more powerful than ever."

Daniel, now calling himself Daoud, and Alex, now Ali, looked at each other and nodded. They felt no fear, no regret only acceptance and excitement. They had been transformed, not just physically but mentally. The bond they once shared as lovers was replaced with a new bond, brotherhood. And with it came a shared obsession, a desire for women that burned within them like never before.

"Bro, I can't believe how good this feels. I don't even know why we were ever together like that," Ali said, his eyes flickering with a new, primal energy.

Daoud smirked, flexing his arms, feeling the surge of power coursing through his veins. "Yeah, man. What were we thinking? This is what real life is about. We were just... confused before." He looked at the women working out nearby, his gaze filled with hunger. "Now, it's all about the chase, the thrill."

Ali nodded in agreement, his thoughts aligned with Daoud's. "Exactly, bro. Chicks, muscles, and dominating life. That's what we were meant for."

Daoud clapped on Ali's back, their bond now one of brotherhood and shared desires. "Let's go, man. Time to show the world what real men are made of."

They dressed in new clothes provided by the gym. traditional but modern arab-inspired attire that accentuated their muscular frames. As they walked out of the gym, they felt like kings, ready to conquer the world outside. Women turned to look at them, drawn to their confidence and masculinity. And as they exchanged a knowing glance, they knew that their lives had changed forever.

No longer the gentle, loving couple they once were, Daoud and Ali were now straight, Arab studs, obsessed with their newfound masculinity and the thrill of chasing after women.

[22ayla21]

Can I request Amphoreus male with their spouse relative visit them? The children will be delighted when having a cool auntie/ uncle to play and training together.

Their spouse will have a hard time on prevent their children come to their auntie/ uncle, more like stop them from being spoiled too much. (candy, gifts,…)

(I used to spoiled my nephew and niece with candy, and end up getting grounded because my sister found out, she told me to not give them any more sweet treats.)

Mom's Sister

When mom's sister comes to visit, the house becomes a place of chaos

When the door swung open, the children didn't even hear the footsteps until the end, as they were already rushing towards their aunt with joyful cries. She burst into their house like a whirlwind - with a dazzling smile, sparkling decorations and an armful of gifts.

Their mother's sister had always been the adult who knew how to entertain. In her presence, rules became flexible, and prohibitions - only vague reminders of the boring adult world.

The gifts turned out to be more than impressive. The middle daughter immediately grabbed a dagger - not a combat one, of course, but sharp enough for training. The eldest son was mesmerized by the new set of tools for creating traps, and the youngest was delightedly clutching a rare book with ancient legends to herself.

Mydei watched all this with a hidden grin. He understood that the guest was bringing chaos with her, but he was in no hurry to interfere. He even liked the way his children's eyes sparkled when their aunt suggested something new.

Meanwhile, the mother of the family narrowed her eyes, clearly sensing trouble. She knew her sister too well.

As it turned out, her premonition was right. Soon the children were already fighting each other, practicing new techniques. The middle one, with a sparkling smile, was trying to repeat the stance that her aunt had shown. The eldest son was building an ingenious trap, clearly inspired by something from the stories of his beloved relative.

The youngest seemed to be acting calmer, but no - she had already managed to figure out how to use the knowledge she had acquired in practice.

The mother closed her eyes tiredly and exhaled before heading towards her sister. Of course, her children adored their aunt. But who would clean up the mess when she left? Who would explain why it was forbidden to have gladiatorial fights in the house or test new inventions right at dinner?

Auntie just smiled her signature grin, watching the fun without a shadow of remorse. Meanwhile, Mydei, hiding his laughter, decided not to interfere. While his wife scolded his sister for being too generous and playing dangerous games, he just silently enjoyed what was happening. After all, children should be a little naughty. Especially when they have the perfect ally for it.

A warm wind walked through the house, filling the rooms with lightness and laughter. That day, a storm came to their house - the sister of the hostess, a woman bright, charismatic and... absolutely without measure when it came to her nephews.

The children rejoiced as soon as they saw her on the threshold. She never came empty-handed: exotic toys, rare books, and sometimes - something that caused silent horror in their mother. Today it was training equipment, clearly intended for activities that were strictly prohibited in the house.

As soon as the gifts were in the hands of the children, chaos began. The wife's sister excitedly showed how to hold a sword correctly, how to sharply dodge a blow. The daughters listened attentively, absorbing every word, and the youngest son, although he did not like fighting, watched with interest what was happening.

Anaxa's wife, who had remained calm until this moment, finally intervened. She didn't raise her voice, but her gaze was full of reproach. She knew that her sister meant no harm, but still spoiled the children too much.

The sister only chuckled and shrugged, while the children, with a greedy glint in their eyes, continued to try out new movements. Their mother sighed, realizing that now she would have to have a long conversation and strict control to ensure that these "gifts" did not lead to injuries.

Anaxa, who was watching all this from afar, only grinned reservedly. He did not interfere, knowing that his wife could handle it herself. After all, who was he to stand between his children and their most beloved aunt?

When their aunt shows up at their house, the children drop everything and run to her with excited cries. As always, she hasn't arrived empty-handed - a bag of presents, rare toys and even some weapons for training. A fire lights up in the boys' eyes, and their younger sister, though still too young for serious training, also reaches out to the shiny curiosities.

Phainon's wife greets her sister with a tired smile. She already knows that this visit means chaos. Her blood is restless, charismatic, eternally free, and she sees nothing wrong with giving children more freedom. Especially in what parents usually forbid.

Soon the yard is filled with the sounds of fussing. The older boys, their eyes shining, grab their training swords, their aunt teaches them to parry blows, laughing at their attempts to look serious. Even the little girl proudly raises a wooden dagger, clearly wanting to keep up with her brothers.

The mother of the family, arms folded across her chest, watches all this with an expression of quiet despair. Every time it's the same. She tries to reason with her sister, but she just waves her hand, saying, let the children have fun. In the end, she has to personally take the toy weapon away from the youngest and sternly tell her sons that some exercises are not for them yet.

Phainon, watching this from the terrace, only smirks. He does not interfere, understanding that this is a struggle between two elements - the mother, striving for order, and the aunt, bringing chaos. In the end, no matter how hard the wife tries to control the situation, the children still adore their aunt. And her influence on them is inevitable.