#this in direct opposition to their teaching styles

[d1sc0-1nfern0]

Rune and Vast are very “soft love.” They’re gentle and sweet with the ones they love and desperately avoid seeming pushy or controlling.

Atlas, on other hand, is more “tough love.” Still gentle, but he’s much more willing to be assertive and even aggressive with his love (especially when those he cares about are neglecting their health and safety.)

For example: someone hasn’t been sleeping.

Rune and Vast will lure them to bed with soft words and fluffy promises of cuddles and kisses.

Atlas will pick their ass up and carry them to bed, and proceed to lie on them until they fall asleep. Or at least actively guard the door to block off any escape.

[starsofang]

“You’re droolin’.”

You whipped your head over to Kyle, who eyed you from the classroom beside you. You sputtered, quickly covering your mouth while he snickered.

“I am not,” you hissed in warning, risking a glance at the room in front of you and praying the man inside didn’t hear.

“Mm,” Kyle hummed, crossing his arms and watching as his students piled into his class, giving him sweet little ‘hello!’s in greeting. “Don’t know why you haven’t talked to him yet. He’s a nice guy.”

Your eyes drifted over to the classroom across from you, staring at the neighboring teacher who’d captured your heart from the moment you started working at the school.

Mr. Price stood at his desk, speaking with a chatty child and smiling kindly, nodding along as he listened. He paid no mind to you, entirely distracted. It was a wonder if he even knew you taught across from him.

It was a painfully one-sided crush. A silly, childish feeling, one you were sure he’d find strange if he found out about you, the quiet teacher that admired him from five feet across the hall.

“I don’t want to make a fool out of myself,” you sighed, shoulders deflating. One of your students waltzed into your classroom, greeting you cheerfully, so you put on a smile, welcoming them in.

“Ach, you’re just worryin’ for nothin’,” he dismissed lazily. “You’ve gotta talk to him one of these days. How else will you get him to ask you out? Or maybe you’re the one that likes takin’ the reins.”

You threw him a glare and Kyle only snickered some more, dodging the pen you threw his way.

Once your last student arrived, you sighed helplessly, tossing one last look into Mr. Price’s classroom. Your heart yearned to talk to him, but your brain begged you to stay in the shadows.

You felt silly for liking a fellow teacher you’d never formally met, but you couldn’t help it. You’d catch yourself mindlessly watching him across the hall, glimpsing into the open door and melting at the way he treated his students.

He was a large man, brutish and tough, but the way he was with his students was the complete opposite. He was attentive, always giving them his direct focus as not to make them feel unheard. His teaching style was fun, and you often heard his kids laughing boisterously with the activities he had planned for the day.

He was a wonderful teacher, and naturally, the longer you observed, the more your attraction grew.

God, you were hopeless. Hopelessly in love, that is. There’d never be a time where you’d muster up the courage to talk to him.

Forcing yourself to look away, you saluted Kyle, entering the confines of your own classroom and willing away the racing thoughts of the handsome teacher across from you.

The day dragged, and God gave you no mercy with your set of kids together. Whatever had riled up your students to be so hyper had cost you your sanity, and it felt like days until you were giving them all a loving farewell, helping them shrug on their backpacks and watching them leave for the busses so they could head on home and call it quits for the day.

As much as you wanted to join in on going home and collapsing into bed, you stayed behind to catch up on grading papers; which, really, you thought was a waste, considering your students were mere kids.

What grades did they need? They were barely at the age of comprehending ridiculous math equations, or what a mammal was.

Regardless, you set forth to work, flipping through an endless stack of papers until you felt your fingers would fall off.

It was only a couple of hours later when a grueling headache slammed against your temples, causing you to groan in the solitude of your classroom. You needed a coffee. Or a shot. Something.

You decided to go with the coffee for now, forcing yourself out of your chair. When you entered the quiet hallways, you noticed the lights off in Mr. Price’s classroom with no sign of life occupying it.

He must’ve gone home for the day. A pity, really. Another day, another failure.

Kyle was no where to be found, either. Even he wouldn’t be able to save you from your own painful misery.

Slumping in disappointment, you made your way to the break room. The coffee in the school tasted like shit, and you avoiding drinking it as much as possible, but you were desperate. Today hadn’t been very kind to you, and your kids had erupted chaos into your life.

You loved your students, but that shit coffee would be the only thing to get you through until tomorrow, where you’d do it all over again.

Upon entering, you shuffled into the break room with your goal set. However, the moment you noticed a familiar somebody sitting at the break room table, sipping on his own cup, it instantly slipped from your mind, forgotten.

“Oh,” Price breathed, looking up at you. He set his mug down, offering you a smile that had your breath catching in your throat. “Hello. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anybody was still here. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. What were you supposed to say? You’d practiced endlessly on how to talk to him, memorizing a script in your head so you wouldn’t fuck up, but it didn’t entail this. You weren’t prepared!

“I—” You took in a sharp breath, panicking. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, oh god, you looked so stupid—

“You teach across from me, right?” he asked, leaning back in the chair. “I never got to introduce myself. You know how it is with the kids and all, they’re always bouncin’ off the walls, so it’s hard to find the time.”

He cleared his throat, taking another sip of his coffee.

He… noticed you? Sure, it was hard not to, the two of you worked a mere few feet away from each other, but you didn’t know he knew you were there.

Fuck, what do you say? Your tongue felt tied up in a knot. Think.

“It’s okay, Mr. Price,” you said instead, stumbling over your words. “I know the kids get us all caught up.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, unaware you knew his name. If only he knew the extent of it.

“Ah, well I suppose there’s no need for introduction, then,” he laughed, smiling brightly. You felt your knees buckle. “No need to call me Mister, though. You can just call me John.”

You could feel every part of your body warm up. This felt like a fever dream. You desperately needed Kyle to pinch you awake.

“John,” you breathed out, testing the name on your tongue. It was embarrassing how much you enjoyed it. “It’s, ah, nice to formally meet you.”

“Mm, you too,” John said proudly. He stood from his chair, grabbing his cup to empty it into the sink. “I’ve gotta run, it’s gettin’ late. You have a ride home?”

You nodded dumbly, silently cursing yourself for having a working car.

“Right then. See you tomorrow, aye?” He offered another one of those award-winning smiles, bidding you farewell and leaving you in the break room alone.

You didn’t move from your spot, your feet glued to the floor. Your heart pounded erratically, your mind blurring into a fog.

God, you felt like the school girl with a crush, not the teacher. You didn’t realize how deep your crush ran for the man, but now that you’d gotten a glimpse into conversing with him, it festered into you like an aggravating tick.

When two cups of coffee later didn’t help with the burrowing feelings, you decided to give up on grading papers, heading home to try and scrub your mind until tomorrow.

You were more anxious than ever today. You couldn’t stand still, constantly shifting on your feet while your hands wrung nervously behind your back. Kyle eyed you suspiciously from his classroom door beside you, saying nothing as his kids piled into the room.

Your mind was plagued with thoughts of yesterday, replaying over and over the kindness John had given you. You thought that maybe you were overthinking it.

He was simply being generous. After all, Kyle said he was a nice guy, and surely he wouldn’t have just ignored you when you came into the break room. That would’ve been rude, right?

“Good mornin’,” Price greeted you softly, blinding you with his smile that was nearly buried under his facial hair. “Hope you didn’t stay too late last night. Don’t drink too much coffee today, aye?”

You stared bug eyed as he stepped into the comfort of his classroom, greeting his kids enthusiastically while you stood in your doorway like a complete idiot.

“…What the hell was that?” Kyle whispered aggressively, eyes narrowing in on you. He leaned closer to keep as quiet as possible, but you shushed him anyway, begging him to keep his voice down. “You talked to him?”

“Only briefly!” you defended, resolve crumbling. “We ran into each other in the break room last night and he introduced himself. He was being nice.”

“I’m wounded,” Kyle gasped, feigning hurt. He placed a dramatic hand on his chest. “You finally talk to the man you have the hots for and you don’t even tell me, your friend.”

You groaned, sinking against your door, sulking. “It was a polite conversation, barely one of substance.”

Kyle tsked, shaking his head. One of his students skipped up to the door, greeting a ‘good morning, Mr. Garrick!’. “You’re hopeless,” he sighed, giving you a lazy wave before entering his classroom.

Frowning to yourself, you watched as your final students filed inside, giving you happy smiles. Oh, to be a kid again. Maybe then, you wouldn’t be so worked up over your coworker. You really did have to hots for him.

You stepped inside your classroom, turning to kick out the door stopper and seal it tight. As you did so, you couldn’t help yourself and you glanced over at Mr. Price’s classroom.

You nearly melted into the ground when you caught his eye, and he gave you a gentle wave, smiling kindly.

Quickly ushering the door shut, you hurried to your desk to hide your embarrassment. As your kids chattered amongst themselves, you took a few moments to mull over your pounding over, begging it to slow.

You didn’t know whether or not you wanted him to go back to not knowing you existed, or to greet you tomorrow morning, then the next. All you knew was that you were completely and utterly fucked.

[stellarwhisper]

Random Astrology Observation

The fact that Mars is in the first house suggests that confidence, physique, and self-image are highly valued. These people appear to focus their energy on keeping up a powerful, alluring persona. Being eager to give people more self-assurance points to a helpful and inspiring personality.

Mars's position in the ninth house presents an exciting and daring image. The love of adventure, philosophy, and travel fits very well with this placement's expansive character. Extreme sports fervor is indicative of a will to push limits and experience life to the fullest. A desire to disseminate knowledge and a broader viewpoint are reflected in the goal of education and teaching. Adhering to specific values gives their approach more depth and makes the journey lively and meaningful.

Sagittarius Mars traits indicate a great dislike for anything that restricts their freedom or stifles their independence. They don't like to wait around and value efficiency, thus being on time is crucial to them. They cherish their autonomy, therefore any attempts to limit or control them may encounter opposition. People in this role may also become frustrated by unreasonable responsibilities and rigidity.

The variety of characteristics that people with Leo moons exhibit, from a difficult connection with trust to creativity, forgiveness, and a craving for attention and giving. The knowledge of their inclinations, driving forces, and educational experiences deepens the comprehension of this lunar positioning.

Even though it can occasionally come out as judgmental, Virgo Sun people's honesty is valued for its directness. Their readiness to be open about their true emotions and to offer candid counsel is indicative of their dedication to truth and authenticity.

People with Jupiter conjunct Moon are described as having a strong and alluring emotional presence. They seem to have a significant influence on people around them if they can control emotions and use their auras to create a spell. Through their artistic or intellectual endeavors, individuals appear to have secret knowledge banks that open up when they communicate their feelings. The secret to revealing the depth and richness within is found in the allure of their bursting emotions.

In fact, the 10th house in astrology is frequently linked to one's profession and public life. It stands for a person's reputation, accomplishments, and career goals. The planets and signs that make up the 10th house, along with any aspects that they may form, can provide information about a person's attitude toward their work, public persona, and desired global influence.

The depiction of Pisces Mercury in a relationship creates a lovely image of profound understanding of their partner and nearly psychic communication since they have sensitive energy to sense whether something is off. When words are utilized they will use it to bring out the most understanding and sensitive parts of their partner, they love a connection that appears to be a source of consolation and healing. They want their friendship or relationship to take on a lyrical and inspiring dimension due to their appreciation of arts especially music and they have the possibility of writing or even dedicating songs for their loved ones.

Mars in the seventh house frequently denotes a forceful and proactive approach to interpersonal connections. People that have this placement tend to be direct, aggressive, and passionate in their relationships. They can be looking for a companion who can have lively conversations and is just as vivacious. They might have a strong desire to take the lead in relationships and relish the excitement of working together on projects. Direct communication and a desire to resolve conflicts amicably are two possible components of conflict resolution.

Venus in the Ascendant, sometimes referred to as Venus in the First House, frequently improves a person's attractiveness, charm, and relationship style. People that are placed in this position typically have a friendly and cheerful disposition. They could be naturally magnetic, capturing the attention of others with their charisma or beauty. Their identity is greatly shaped by their relationships, and they may place a high importance on harmony and aesthetics in their self-expression. A great desire to establish and preserve lovely relationships in the social and personal domains may be present.

[sjywrites]

༊*·˚ Prada & Versace (dropped)

: ̗̀➛ 𝓢ugar 𝓓addy!𝓛ee 𝓗eeseung x 𝓕!reader. 𝓖enre smut, fluff, age gap, s2l. 𝓢ypnosis where reader is a broke and single college student celebrating her best friends birthday, and at said party she meets someone who might solve more than just one of her problems. 𝓦𝓒 estimated 5-10k. 𝓒𝓦 age gap, oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), pet names (good girl, baby, slut in an affectionate way!), mentions of alcohol, both hee and reader smokes, reader is a bit intoxicated but still fully aware of what she’s doing.

𝓝ote this is a sneak-peak of the actual story, this is the first story I’ve ever posted on tumblr so if you see anything that I can improve, please let me know. I want the first story I post to be good enough for me to be motivated to keep writing!

This is purely fiction and is not meant to interpret how the idols act in real life!

,, not proofread + english is not my first language ! ೃ⁀➷

Edit: this fic will be dropped, I've lost full motivation for it and it doesn't really fit what I want to write in the future. Sorry.

Flashing lights, loud music and the smell of sweaty bodies. That’s what most clubs look like, and this one was no different.

It was Ryujins 19th birthday, and she wanted to celebrate it with just her closest friends and her girlfriend. That’s why Y/N agreed to it in the first place. She’s not used to social settings and spends most of her time stressing over finals, so being forced into a social setting wasn't making her any less stressed. Her and Ryujin are the complete opposite of each other and she can’t really remember how they became best friends, but somehow they did. And that’s why she’s in this position right now, pressed between strangers in a club that reeked of alcohol, dressed in a skimpy black dress that barely covered her up.

“Hey Y/N, get me another drink will ya’!” Ryujin shouted and laughed, fully intoxicated. “I don’t really think that’s a good idea Ryu” I said, a little worried about her condition “you’ve had a lot already” I tell her, hoping she would just give up “It’s fineee, I’m fineee, trust!” She laughed and grabbed another beer. I tried to stop her but she was too fast. I just gave up and sighed, trying to reason with her when she’s drunk is like trying to argue with a wall “You’re gonna throw up later I’ll tell you that.” I grabbed my lighter and walked outside for a smoke, leaving her to Yeji, her girlfriend. I love Ryujin, but sometimes she can be a handful to look after.

I walk out on the balcony, leaning against the rack and admire the glowing night sky, letting the cold wind run over my body. It’s a relaxing moment until I hear someone approaching and I assume it’s either Ryujin or Yeji, until they lean against the rack beside me. Build too big to be either of them, I look over in their direction. A tall, hot guy with glasses stands there. He lights a cigarette and looks over to me. I forgot how to breathe for a moment, embarrassed, I looked away slightly. When I look back to see if he’s still there, we make eye contact. He’s close enough that I can feel the heat roaming around him. And I can't tell if it’s the embarrassment or the close contact with the man that makes my cheeks heat up, but I’d rather not find out.

I take a look at the man in front of me, scanning him up and down. Dressed in a suit too fine to be worn at a basic club, hair styled in a way that makes it look almost untouched, and his eyes, his eyes were so easy to get lost in. I snap out of it when I realize I’d been staring for a while, a slight smirk on the man's lips as he leans down to my level.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer”

✩ ♬ ₊.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N please let me know if you want me to finish it! Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated ♡ (Also someone please teach me how to make my posts aesthetic I've never posted on Tumblr before so I don't know how it works 😔)

[warping-realities]

A Better Brighter Future

A brief explanation, this story is a spinoff of Dalton Academy, you don't need to have read that series to understand this story, but you will miss some references. The themes here are also controversial and I need to remind everyone that just because I wrote it doesn't mean I agree with what's happening! Otherwise, a great read for anyone interested!

Director Horace Johnson wasn’t having a good week; in fact, the week he was having was bloody dreadful. The blonde, skinny bloke, fifty years old, had dedicated a good chunk of his adult life to educating young people, finding that calling shortly after leaving university. A staunch defender of human rights and a proponent of positive education, he faced all sorts of problems with reactionary teachers throughout his career, none worse than Ethan Wood, the former PE teacher at King Richard All Boys Institute, affectionately referred to by everyone in the tiny village of Daffodil-Meadow-Over-The-Hill as Lionheart School. However, after numerous run-ins over the three years he’d been the head of that institution, he finally got fed up with the other bloke's speeches, attitudes, and teaching style, and thanks to an anonymous tip about some dodgy behaviour that led to his dismissal, nearly all the students and many of the  teachers breathed a sigh of relief; that sort of hardline, oppressive treatment had no place in today’s world. The one thing Horace couldn’t imagine was the struggle to find a replacement who shared his progressive ideals, not to mention the fact that he had to deal with the backlash from some conservative parents, teachers, and board members. Just another battle they were fighting; he should have known, it was like that when he banned the posh uniforms or tried to authorise the use of gender-neutral pronouns – one battle won, another lost. But he was determined to come out on top again; he refused to put another outdated troglodyte in that position. A better, brighter future was the motto of that school, and he was going to make it happen.

While he was mulling over these issues, sitting in his office with a good cup of tea, his privacy was invaded. With a loud BAM, the door to his office was flung open, causing him to quickly raise his eyes from the document he was reading, only to see the monstrous figure striding towards him. A black man in his thirties, dressed in a polo shirt, tracky bottoms, and trainers, exuding the brash vibe of a sports coach, swaggered confidently in his direction. He couldn’t remember scheduling any interview, and certainly not with someone so rude, who gave off exactly the impression of the type of professional he refused to hire.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to leave this room; I’m busy and we haven’t got a time booked!” he said, standing up and positioning himself beside his desk, noting the absurd difference in build and muscle between the two.

“And since when do old mates need permission to see you, Henry?”

“That’s not my name!”

“I know that, Henderson, you tosser, but if you reckon I’m not gonna use your nickname just because you’re the head honcho of a fancy school now, you’re sorely mistaken. Just wait until the lads on the rugby team find out the Steamroller Henry is all posh now; they’ll be laughing their heads off!”

“Sir, I… I don’t know what you’re on about… I insist you leave!”

“Now that’s the Henry I know, always ready to pull a fast one on his mates.” The man said, slumping down in the armchair opposite his desk. “But enough of the banter, mate. After you got in touch, I did a bit of digging into what’s going on around here, and you’ve got some serious problems. Losing a bloke like Ethan Wood must have been a right kick in the teeth, especially after scrapping the uniforms; they might have been a bit too posh, but they helped maintain a sense of unity and shared identity. Good on you for getting rid of that daft idea of using gender-neutral pronouns. Still, mate, I can see why you need me here. Transforming these crybabies into real men can’t be easy, but don’t you worry; you called the right person!”

“I… what…? I don’t get it…”

“What’s hard to understand, Henry? You need help to rein in this progressive agenda that’s trying to take root here, so you called your old uni mate Blake Ian Garret, The BIG and said, ‘Mate, I need your help with these wankers trying to sabotage me; old Wood is out, I need you for the job!’”

“I… Blake… BI… BIG, then… do you accept?”

“Of course I do, you muppet; it’s exactly what I’ve been banging on about! That whisky you’re drinking is probably messing with your already dodgy brain. I wonder how they let you become a director, Henry; not that I’m complaining, we need more blokes like us in charge.”

“I also wonder how I ended up here; I only became a teacher because that dodgy Wood promised to pass on his job to me when he retired, and next thing I know, I’m stuck in this boring role and now I have to give the job I wanted to an arse.” He said with fake exasperation. 

“Shut it, mate; I know you missed having another real man around here, and while I explain how things work in the place I was working, why don’t you pour me a bit of that drink? I think you’ll love hearing about Dalton Academy.” The man commented, noticing the change happening in Horace Johnson. In a blur of movement, the skinny man’s body expanded in muscle and height, while the wrinkles vanished from his face and his blonde hair started to grow back where it had receded. In less than a second, Henderson “Henry” Johnson found himself grinning, offering a glass of whisky that hadn’t been there before to his old university friend and now professor Blake Garret, The BIG in his realm.

“A toast to the best hire I could have made,” he said, raising the glass to his old friend, who broke into a wide smile.

“To a better and brighter future, indeed!”

…..

The students and teachers didn’t know why they were gathered in the school gym. The summons came from Director Johnson himself, and they knew they had to comply quickly, as the man had a military rigidity about that sort of thing, not tolerating any behaviour he deemed lazy. So, what a surprise it was for everyone to see that it wasn’t Henry Johnson heading to the packed gym.

“Good morning, gentlemen! My name’s Blake Garret and I’m the new PE teacher here at Lionheart. The director Johnson and I have known each other for a long time; we were university mates and teammates, and he’s shared with me his concerns about the behaviour and ideals presented here. This nation is infected, gentlemen. Infected by a parasite called progressivism. Progress should be encouraged, yes, but with proper control, guided by the ideas of our parents and ancestors. Progress for the sake of progress should be discouraged!” He said, striding across the gym floor like a caged beast ready to break free, pausing only to observe the indignant faces of some teachers and a few students who bothered to pay attention to what he was saying. But that was about to change, and it was going to be now. “When Henry told me that the infection was spreading here too, I couldn’t believe it. I said to him, ‘Surely not, Henry, my dear. Lionheart is a beacon of clarity amidst a stormy sea of harmful ideas; the teachers are exemplars of masculinity and manliness, and the students are the pinnacle to which every young man in this nation should aspire; surely there’s no such behaviour here.’ But… but now that I’m here, I see! Gentlemen, my eyes fill with tears at what Lionheart is.” He said, taking another pause to take in the disgusted expressions before finally finishing what he had come to do there. “Tears, yes, tears of pride! For you are much more than I imagined, gentlemen. You are paragons of masculinity, the example of what every man should aspire to be; you haven’t allowed yourselves to be contaminated by the corruption attacking our country from within; you are what gives me hope for the future of our great nation.” He said, resuming his frenetic pacing, and with every step he took, the audience transformed; teachers, students, staff, all expanding in size while ideas and thoughts shrank, casual clothes being replaced by training gear that showcased their muscular and defined bodies, while a powerful funk that only dozens of sweaty gathered men could produce dominated the atmosphere, not that anyone there cared about it.

“That was a brilliant welcome drill, lads; now off to the showers and back to your uniforms for your lessons. Teachers, I ask you to stay a bit longer; I need to know about any absent students today.”

….

Franklin was in deep trouble; he missed the bus to school and had to walk all the way from the village of Grimchurch to Daffodil Meadow, which wasn’t pleasant for a skinny, asthmatic kid. The worst part was that he ended up terribly late for school, and knowing the kind of reception he would get, he thought about just not going, but that would bring even bigger complications, so he decided to face his fate with resignation. He was greeted by the guard, who merely directed him to one of the classrooms where a teacher would speak to the late students and administer the necessary punishment. Sighing with resignation, he headed to the indicated location, but upon arriving, something stopped him from entering the room; some sort of primitive alert resonating within his mind. Peeking through the corner of the window, he saw a teacher he didn’t recognise, a tall and very strong man with skin as dark as his own, talking to Bernard, Vincent, and Timothy, three of the biggest truants at Lionheart, who were looking at him with bored expressions. But then, in the blink of an eye, the unthinkable happened; the boys he had known all his life were replaced by larger, stronger, muscular versions, wearing uniforms and smiling as if they were getting drunk on every word the teacher was saying, words which Franklin couldn’t hear. But then the teacher approached the door, and he could hear the end of the speech.

“… rowing at the end of the day; you lot are to be congratulated, I wouldn’t be surprised if any of you ended up representing England at the Olympics. Oh, before you go, Bert and Victor, you’re in the same class as Franklin Burke, right? If you see him, let me know; I need to have a word with the lad, the same goes for you, Tom.”

Hearing that, Franklin took off running, desperate, not fully understanding what he had witnessed but knowing the risk he was in; he urgently needed to get out of there. In his despair, he didn’t notice that the man had left the room and smiled when he saw a skinny kid running toward the changing rooms.

Franklin thought the safest way to escape the trap he had fallen into would be through the school gym, which should be empty at that hour. Sneaking in as quietly as possible, he finally reached the changing area; he just needed to cross it and head to the football pitch, which would be free from whatever was happening there. But there was a hitch: someone was using the changing room. Quickly hiding behind the door, he saw the stranger swaggering arrogantly through the space. Recently out of the shower and wearing only a jock strap, the muscular Chinese lad strutted as if he owned the place. Stopping in front of the mirror, he admired himself. Who could he have been before? No… no… Lionheart only had one Chinese student. That must be… Anshen? Franklin’s best mate… no… this was a nightmare.

“I can see you there, mate!” said the muscular lad, crossing his arms. “Coach BIG is looking for you. I wouldn’t irritate the bloke if I were you.” He added with a cheeky grin. Having been discovered, Franklin stepped out of hiding.

“Anshen… is that you?”

“The name’s Ashton, Franklin. Honestly, how could you forget the name of the captain of the school swimming team?” he said, acting as if that made him the most important person in the room. Without even glancing to the side, he brushed past that aberration towards the corridor leading to the football pitch.

“Hey, mate, the coach’s office is the other way!” shouted the other lad, but Franklin didn’t pay him any mind. He was running anxiously toward the door that was his salvation. Only to see it swing open and the monstrous giant that was walking toward him with a grin. Between the two giants, he chose to face the smaller of the two and took off running in the direction he had come from, without seeing the smile fade from the man's face or hearing him grumble.

“Don’t know why they run…”

Upon reaching the door of the changing room he had just passed through a few seconds ago, he found it locked. How? Ashton must have locked it. Franklin grunted as he cursed the other lad with every ounce of strength not being used to try to open the door.

“It’s useless, lad. Your fate was sealed the moment you set foot in this school. But you know what? I like you; you’ve got fire in you. Turn around.” The man said with authority, and Franklin felt his body obey against his will. Gathering courage, he faced the man.

“Who are you? What are you?”

“What I am is something to be answered another time. Now, who am I? Frankly, Farrel, that’s no way to speak to your godfather.” Coach BIG replied, seemingly hurt, although a slight tremor at the corner of his lips indicated he was actually enjoying himself.

“What? Godfather? I don’t have a godfather and I don’t even know who you are! And who the hell is Farrel?”

“Farrel is my godson; a lad, strong and sure of what he wants. A man who knows a man’s rightful place in society. He’s a bit of a rogue, the type who’s too smart for his own good, always finding a way to dodge consequences. Except when he’s on the pitch; he’s the captain of the rugby team and takes that role seriously, even knowing his future lies in politics, thanks to the silver tongue he possesses. In short, Farrel is you, you great numpty. Now that it’s just the two of us in my office, come give your godfather a hug.”

“I… what? No…!” Franklin stammered as he felt his legs move on their own and a dreamy smile form on his lips, even as he internally screamed in anxiety.

Anxiety? He never got anxious! At least not off the pitch. There he was a monster, a bull. But off it? Off it, he was the face of relaxation. Chill out and have a laugh was Farrel Burke’s motto! Thought the muscular black giant that few would believe was only eighteen years old. While he put on the school uniform in his godfather’s office, admiring his beautiful body and smiling.

“Farrel? Farrel! Bloody hell, lad, can’t you pay attention for a minute?”

“Sorry, Uncle BIG… I mean… Coach BIG… oops… Professor Garret.”

“If you weren’t my godson, I’d give you a right telling off, lad, and just because I’m your godfather doesn’t mean you can use my office as if it were your personal changing room.”

“If you hadn’t dragged me from the changing room, I wouldn’t need to finish getting dressed here!”

“Is that a dig at my behaviour, lad?” BIG asked seriously, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“No, sir, professor. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” The lad replied, sensing the danger.

“Great. As I was saying, I want to implement some of the ideas I brought from Dalton; while you finish getting ready, let me talk to you about the clubs…”

…..

By the end of that week, BIG’s initial work was complete; there were no more students or teachers left to be improved. The uniforms had returned to being the norm, and all the lads were required to be part of at least one of the school’s sports teams. Moreover, the social clubs had been formed, ensuring that the lads, even after school ended, would have a reason to return to Lionheart and not forget what they had learned there. BIG was proud of what he had accomplished, and those above him were too. Now it was time for the expansion phase, to take what was taught at Lionheart outside the school’s walls and fields. BIG’s approach was different from that taken at Dalton; times were different, and in the war they were waging against those who wanted to remove men from their rightful place, there was no room for the discretion adopted by the sister school. Europe was falling too quickly; it was necessary to be more incisive. That’s why Lionheart would focus not only on creating the leaders of tomorrow but a whole generation of influencers, and sport would be their flagship. And there was no sport more popular worldwide than football. Knowing this, the Lionheart team became a priority for BIG, and he created a particularly talented and charismatic group, but they still lacked a coach of the right calibre. But that would soon be resolved, and quickly too; normally, BIG liked to savour the moment he transformed a pathetic figure into a real man. However, as the mass transformation of the first day showed, when the need was pressing, he acted fast. And that Sunday morning, it was needed again. While the lads prepared for training, the stands of the school filled with students from other teams, but also with parents and locals from the surrounding towns. This would be exhausting. And the cherry on top was the old man walking across the field with an angry look directed at BIG, who returned the scorn before breaking into a smile.

Zachariah Hastings, a member of the school board and a staunch conservative, which in theory should please BIG, but the problem was that the old codger was too conservative. Homophobic and racist, he seemed to boil inside the outdated suit he was wearing at that moment. He indeed represented that mythical figure of patriarchy that the snowflakes loved to point out as the cause of all ills: the white, heterosexual, cisgender man. BIG had nothing against a man who was all those things; on the contrary. The problem was that this figure represented everything that the enemies of the brotherhood of men took pleasure in using to attack. BIG’s group merely wanted to return men to their rightful place in society; they didn’t care about race, religion, whether you were an immigrant or who you slept with. Implicating with those things only created divisions, pushing men away from the real goal. And it was precisely for that reason that Zachariah had to go. Without any fanfare or manipulation, in one moment, the old codger was there with a bewildered expression, as if he knew what awaited him, and in the next moment, a fine specimen of a black man, very much like BIG himself, stood in his place, while every man in that audience became an upgraded ally, and BIG enthusiastically announced to everyone the arrival of the legendary Zeke Hastings, newly retired player from Manchester City and multiple-time champion of the Premier League, Champions League, and Euro Cup, to take the position of coach for the school’s football team, sending all the men in that place into a frenzy of delight, while BIG himself smiled, satisfied that the first part of his duty was finally fulfilled.

**Two months earlier**

Barret couldn’t stop tapping his foot while waiting in the posh waiting room of Dalton Academy; after all, this was his big chance, even if he didn’t understand why an American school would be interested in an English literature teacher. Although the whole place reeked of Old Money, perhaps that justified the interest in him.

“You can come in, Mr. Garret.” A metallic voice startled Barret, who looked around for the source, but found none. Collecting himself, he stood up, straightened his suit, and opened the massive door to the office. What he saw there gave him a sense of strangeness. Smiling and walking towards him in a space much larger than would be possible, was a handsome lad, no more than eighteen years old. Was this some sort of prank by the posh students?

“Come in, Mr. Garrett. Barret Garret; your parents had an interesting sense of humour; I would have certainly liked them…” commented the smiling young man before frowning. “Why the scared face? Ahhh, I always forget these modern conventions; in my day, this would already be the appearance of an adult man.” The young man said, his face concentrating, and then, as if by magic, he began to walk towards an office desk that Barret could have sworn hadn’t been there seconds before. When he reached the desk a blonde, older, and muscular man wearing a slightly less formal outfit smiled at Barret. 

“I think you’ll prefer this appearance, my dear. You can call me Mr. Edgar. And even though I’ve used a bit of trickery to bring you here, since unfortunately there’s no place for you on Dalton’s faculty, by the time we finish our conversation, it’ll be as if you know the place better than you do yourself, and I guarantee the goal I have in mind for you will leave you quite satisfied. Put a smile on that face and step in.” Even against his will, in that incomprehensible situation, Barret found himself smiling and stepped into the creature’s lair.

If anyone who wasn’t an active member of Dalton was watching what was going on, they would have been shocked. But within those walls, it was almost routine. A young, well-dressed black man hesitating in front of a portal, only to, upon crossing it, see his body modify and expand, while he aged a few years, though that only made him even more charming; his slow steps transforming into the confident stride of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. And anyone who knew Blake Ian Garret, coach BIG, could tell that that impression would be correct, though incomplete. BIG not only knew what he wanted but would also do everything in his power to achieve his goals. And those goals at the moment consisted of returning to England to find a way to occupy a position at Lionheart School, which conveniently was established on top of one of the largest dormant power points of the old country, but which only needed a spark to awaken. A spark that Mr. Edgar handed to him, only demanding in return that he use that power to ensure that the occupants of the place, both the established ones and those who would come, and even the unsuspecting traveler passing through, became the right kind of men. The exact type that BIG himself represented.

….

**6 months later**

“Son, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think. I survived high school; you will too.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to be transferred in the middle of the second year to a school with the highest concentration of wanker athletes that would have certainly made your life a nightmare.”

“Duncan, I understand; I was transferred as well, remember? I need to make friends at work too.”

“Dad, that’s completely different; none of your colleagues are going to shove your head in a toilet or anything like that.”

“I’m sure that only happens in films, Duncan.”

The pair of overweight blonde father and son walked through the corridors of the Lionheart Institute towards Director Johnson. The truth is that even Alex, the father, was not comfortable with that arrangement, but there was nothing to be done; Lionheart was the best school in the area, and he refused to send his son away from him. Duncan was a shy and reserved kid, just like he had been at that age. That school would be a challenge, but any other would be too, and there he would be close by if something happened.

“Dad, didn’t you read the articles I sent you? This journalist, Aaryan Patel, wrote a series of them talking about what goes on here; all the students here, regardless of where they came from, are some kind of athletes; some have even competed in the Olympics. And there’s more; all of them have behaviour described as toxic; some have been banned from giving interviews; some bloke named Ashton Zhang won a bronze medal in Paris but said so much rubbish about the opening ceremony that he almost got banned from competing.”

“Well, then they’ll know what it’s like to have a mathlete among them now! And who knows, you might become a good influence on them or even get motivated to take up some sport; exercise does wonders for a young lad.”

“Says the man who’s never set foot on a court in his life…”

“Duncan, enough! You’re coming to study here, and that’s final.” The father snapped, as he noticed a giant figure approaching confidently down the corridor.

“But Dad, I think Aaryan Patel has a point…”

“Duncan! I don’t want to hear you talking about Aaryan Patel anymore!”

“You do quite well.” Commented the giant black man approaching them, his smile vanishing upon hearing that name. “Mr. Patel has only been defaming the good name of this school with lies and distortions, when what he should be doing is praising the performance of our students in all areas of life. I’m Professor Garret and I believe you are Archibald and Duncan, am I right?”

“In fact, my name is Alexander…”

“Ah, some misunderstanding then.” Commented the professor with a cheeky smile before continuing. “Director Johnson should have welcomed you, but he had a slight hiccup and asked me to do it for him. I thought I’d chat with you, Archibald, while one of the lads shows Duncan around the school. Where is that rascal? Ah, here he comes.” Professor Garret finished speaking without giving Alexander a chance to correct him about the name error, although he himself had forgotten it when he saw the lad strutting down the corridor, almost like a mini version of the professor. Although saying that anything about that lad was mini would be an affront. Broad shoulders and strong limbs pushing the limits of the school’s smart black uniform, made up of a full suit, tie, and dress shoes that must have been tailor-made to fit the boats that were his feet, the overall effect was one of sophistication but also of dominance and confidence that left Alexander gaping and Duncan, who was already fearful, completely terrified.

“Good day, Coach BIG… hum… Professor Barret; good day, sir.” The lad said politely, although a mischievous sparkle danced in his eyes.

“Farrell, my boy. Would you be so kind as to show the school’s facilities to Duncan here while Archie and I have a chat?”

“With pleasure, Professor Garret. Would you be so kind as to accompany me, Duncan?” He said, positioning himself next to the other lad who, although overweight, was shorter and lighter than him, before turning to Alexander with a cheeky grin. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Archie.”

“The pleasure was mine, lad.” replied Alex, again forgetting to correct the name error. “We’ll see you in a bit, Duke.” He ended up saying to his son, who looked at him first with wide eyes of pleading and then in surprise at how his father had called him. But there was nothing to be done, for at that moment the muscular giant lad took him by the arm and carried him down the corridor, while his father walked away in the opposite direction, chatting amiably with the behemoth that was Professor Garret.

BIG entered his office and sat down at the desk, although he hadn’t asked Archibald to enter, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

“So, Archibald Dunhan, that name doesn’t sound unfamiliar to me.” Commented the professor.

“Well, it’s not exactly a common name these days.” Archibald replied, accepting the name as if he had always used it.

“No, it’s not… Archibald, Archibald Dunhan, Archie, Archie Dunhan! But of course! Wall Archie! You could have been a legend at Arsenal, material for the England team, if it weren’t for that nasty injury in that game against Manchester City; but from what I know, your career as a player agent isn’t going too badly.”

“I… I think you’re confusing me with someone.” Archibald timidly replied, still standing at the door. Just the idea of thinking of himself as a former footballer was hilarious. Although he was indeed a die-hard Arsenal fan and risked a few matches with his mates on weekends. No, not that…

“No, I’m not mistaken; you were a leak-proof goalkeeper, you were a wall indeed, Archie; don’t let something that wasn’t your fault bring you down.”

“That accident ruined me, mate…” Archie found himself responding automatically. What the hell was he talking about?

“I know, but managing guys like Haaland and De Bruyne is also a success story. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Believe me, no one has ever accused me of being too humble!” Why would he say something like that???

“Then we’ve got the same problem!” replied Garret, bursting into laughter, and Archie joined in, unable to contain himself, stopping with a startled look only when the other man spoke to him again.

“What are you doing standing there, Archie? Come in, come in; we’ve got Duke’s future to discuss.”

Hearing that name stirred something in Archie; there was something very wrong with all of this, but then he took a step into the room, and everything changed. In a blur of movement and colour, his muscles expanded, height increased impressively, and fat seemed to evaporate from his body. When he stopped smiling in front of the other man, any trace of humility or shame had left his body. He was one of the most successful sports agents in the country; there was no reason to worry about that sort of thing.

“BIG, you’ve got 5 minutes to convince me to bring my son to this school, mate.”

“Archie, you know me you wanker; I can do it in three.”

….

“Take a seat, chubby; I’m not going to give you a hard time.” Said the muscular black lad to Duncan, although he clearly was already doing that. The moment Duncan’s dad and the teacher left their line of sight, Farrel dropped the politeness, throwing aside all false pleasantries, revealing himself to be exactly the type of person Duncan believed and feared he would be. He didn’t show anything Duncan might find relevant about the school’s facilities, leading the lad through some of the many sports facilities on site. They had courts for all sorts of sports imaginable, gym equipment, swimming pools, running tracks, and even a complete weightlifting gym. After the exhausting tour of Jockland, they finally arrived at the spacious and luxuriously furnished room where they were.

“I’d rather stand, thanks.” Duncan said, approaching the window of the room, which overlooked the well-kept football pitch of the institution.

“You know best, but carrying all that weight can’t be good for your knees.” Farrel commented venomously, as he took off the top part of the school uniform with no ceremony and flopped down on the sofa in the room. “But that won’t last long; BIG will have you sweating off all that flab in no time.”

“I wish you’d stop making comments about my body.”

“When you’ve got the physique of a real man, I’ll stop, chubby. And trust me, you will; in no time, no one will recognise you, not even you.”

“I’m fine as I am; I don’t intend to change anything.”

“As if anyone here gives a toss about what you think, lad. I repeat, soon you’ll be one of the lads at Lionheart and won’t even remember the wimp you are now. And even if you did, you’d be ashamed of what you let this society do to you.”

“I won’t let myself change; you can do what you want with me, humiliate me, torture me; I won’t change.” Duncan replied, feeling an uncharacteristic rage and turning from the window, seeing for the first time Farrel’s bare chest, which made him blush deeply, while the other lad shot him an intrigued look.

“Seeing something you like, chubby? You a queer or something? Not that I have a problem with it; It’s an all boys school after all, and the lads have their needs. Besides I know what my body does to others." He said, flexing his powerful muscles as if he was at some kind of obscene show, which made Duncan look back at the window, only turning around when the other spoke again, hitting the target this time."No, no… it’s a different kind of desire, isn’t it? Ever thought about having a body like this? Ever wished for muscles like these?” He conclude, looking distracted for a moment, as if he were reliving an old memory.

“I don’t need that; I’ve got my mind, and it’s more powerful than any bulging muscle.”

“Loooser! I wish I could record this and show it to my new bro when he comes out of you; it’ll surely make him die of embarrassment.”

“I… what?”

“You know where we are, Duke? At the headquarters of one of the Lionheart clubs, my club; not just anyone gets in here, but I decided you’d be one of the lucky ones. I’m the captain of the rugby team and would love to have you with us, but the boss has other plans. Speaking of which, you know what’s even more curious? The club is located exactly one floor above Coach BIG’s office. An office that has a direct exit to the football pitch. That exit, I believe, must have been used quite recently, so while you’re at the window, tell me what you see.” Farrel asked, his eyes sparkling and his voice filled with an uncontrollable mix of eagerness and excitement.

Without really knowing why he was obeying the other lad, Duncan looked outside, initially seeing nothing of note, but then his gaze landed on the pitch, and what he saw shocked him. Professor Garrett, who at that moment should have been with Duncan’s father, was walking across the pitch, bare-chested and laughing animatedly with a blonde man who was just as monstrous and muscular as he was. But if Garret was there, where was Alexand… Archibald?

“I don’t get it? Where’s my dad?”

“With all that talk about intellect, I thought you’d be smarter, Duke.”

“My name isn’t…”

“Duke!” Duncan read the lips of the gigantic blond man more than he heard him speak as he waved vigorously, beckoning him to join him and Garret on the pitch. Why would a complete stranger act that way? Unless… unless he wasn’t a complete stranger.

“No… it’s impossible…”

“Finally, you got it, chubby, although I think this will be the last time I can call you that.”

“No… dad?” Duncan asked, although the man who continued to wave excitedly couldn’t hear him. “What did they do to you?”

“Oh, old BIG has a thing for The gentlemen’s sport; even though he’s never been a pro himself. I’d say we’d put you on my team, and that would be that. But for a former pro rugby player, he doesn’t value us much. He says nothing gets as much visibility as football, and our team is about to lose the captain to a contract, and we still don’t have a worthy replacement. Plus, the old rogue managed to create a connection with someone who can get him the best seats at the games.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t need to understand, Duke; you just need to accept.”

“I can’t accept this… I won’t accept this…”

“Duke?”

“What!?! He screamed back, enraged in response.

“Come over here, mate.”

“I’m not your mate, mate!”

“Of course you are; you’re my little bro; me and Ash were looking forward to finally having our little brother with us! Farrel, Duke, and Ashton, best mates. FDA, like the American agency, and like them, we run the bloody show! F for a lot of food, D for drugs to grow and an A for, shit what is the A again? Let it be A for awesome because that's what we are, mate!"

“I…”

“Think about it, Duke; you want to make your dad proud.”

“Yes…” he replied, shivering at hearing that.

“Then get your arse off that window and come with me to meet him; for you, I’d even play a match of football just to see the old geezers eat dust.”

“Haha, I want to see you try to score on my dad, F! The bloke’s a wall; not that he can stop his son from scoring.”

“That’s what I want to see; let’s go, then.” Farrel insisted, and Duke finally took a step back and went to meet his fate. In an instant, the fat seemed to be sucked from his body as his muscles expanded into a strong and toned physique, far from the giant muscle mass of Farrel or his father after the forced retirement and years dedicated to bodybuilding. A slim and strong body, except for the long, powerful legs with thighs capable of exploding a watermelon if it were squeezed between them. His unkempt hair giving way to a well-groomed cut, the sad, chubby face transforming into a beautiful, almost angelic face, but still unable to completely hide the mischief within him, easily identified by the cheeky smile playing on his lips at that moment.

“Don’t know why you’re so excited, bro; with that size, dribbling you will be the easiest thing in the world.”

“Watch what you say, scrawny boy.”

“This is definition, something a ogre like you will never know what it is.”

“Come talk about agility when you compete with me in rugby.”

“And why would I stuff myself into a game with a bunch of lard arses?”

“Who are you calling fat, punk?”

“Not me, your body mass index.”

“You’re getting quite cheeky there, lad. I want to see you crack jokes on the pitch.” Farrel replied with false irritation.

“When I get past you, you won’t even notice, chubby!”

….

Aaryan Patel was absolutely fuming; he had no idea why his boss at the Independent Herald had sent him from London to that conservative hellhole that Daffodil Meadow had become. And to top it all off, he was heading straight to the epicentre of that rubbish, the King Richard Institute for Boys, aka Lionheart School. A place he had written a series of scathing articles about in recent months, which didn’t mean he wanted to walk into the lion’s den, especially when it was the lion himself who had sent the invitation. But his editor insisted it was too good an opportunity to pass up, and now here he was, walking purposefully along the edge of the grass on the school’s grand football pitch towards Director Johnson, who was at that moment in one of the few empty stands. Apparently, it was a tradition for the school and the surrounding villages to gather every evening to watch some sort of competition from the different teams, and today it was a football match. What didn’t make sense was the question Aaryan kept asking himself: why the hell did Henderson Johnson make him walk across the pitch where the students were parading around with their muscular bodies on display while the school staff prepared everything for the match?

As Aaryan made his way to his destination, he passed two muscular black blokes wearing the infamous light blue polo shirt of the sports team, one of whom was much bigger than the other. The one he wanted to take down the most. However, when the larger man glanced at Aaryan as he walked towards the nearest entrance to the stands, the lad who considered himself a brave man felt his knees go weak. Feeling angry with himself as he watched the two lugs burst into laughter, Aaryan quickened his pace and climbed the stands to meet Director Johnson.

“Mr. Patel, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person after reading the rather vehement words you used to describe me, my school, and my students.” The man said with a threatening smile. But Aaryan wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated; he was indeed brave, and although he was much leaner than the brute, he wasn’t a total wimp; he could handle whatever the other bloke had to throw at him. And any words spoken would receive an appropriate response from his sharp mind.

“Vehement is an appropriate but incomplete description of what I have to say about this place, Director Johnson. And that description could also be applied to the behaviour of the people here, although belligerent might be a more fitting term.”

“And you know a thing or two about belligerence, don’t you? Big guy like you? Bet you’ve had your fair share of scraps, haven’t you, Aaron?”

“The name’s Aaryan! And I prefer to fight with words.”

“Ha, I knew there was a fighter in you; I never miss.” The man commented as if Aaryan's response had been completely different, leaving the journalist confused for a moment. Quickly shaking off that momentary confusion, he turned back to the giant blonde.

“So, Director Johnson, what’s the purpose of summoning me here? And summon is the right word; my editor informed me that you pressured him quite insistently and intimidatingly, I should add.”

“Right, lad, I just wanted you to see for yourself what it’s really like here, what you’ve been so harsh about. You might not realise it, but what you write affects people’s lives, people I care about; my staff and my students.”

“Forgive me, Director Johnson, but the actions of those people you care about affect many others’ lives.”

“You paint us as monsters, Aaron, but do what I asked you: roam about, chat with my students and teachers; there’s one teacher in particular who’s quite eager to have a word with you.” The director said, smiling and nodding towards the pitch where Blake Garrett was watching closely as Zeke Hastings paced back and forth, correcting both teams’ players’ positions.

A chill ran down his spine at the thought of talking to that man. Forgetting to correct the misuse of his name, he responded to the director.

“Alright, I’ll do that, but I don’t think anything will change my mind. I’m sure the teachers are lost causes by now and the students are probably already conditioned to the behaviours taught here.”

“We’re not a cult, Aaron, but if you want a fresh opinion, why not have a chat with the centre-forward for the black team? The blonde lad in number 9. Duke has been at the school for less than a week; see what he has to say after the game.”

“I know how to identify a centre-forward, thanks! And I think I’ll do just that; cheers!” replied the journalist, who until a few minutes ago certainly couldn’t identify any positions.

After chatting with some students and teachers who repeated the same toxic spiel about masculine values, manliness, and the rightful place a man should occupy in society, Aaryan felt drained. Coming here had certainly been a bad idea. He thought about leaving and writing another scathing article about the evils of that place. However, he realised that the game had finally come to an end when he saw the blonde centre-forward walking to the edge of the pitch, opening a bottle of water and taking a long swig that practically emptied the bottle in one gulp. As Aaryan approached him, the lad poured the remaining water over his sweaty hair, then shook it off vigorously just as Aaryan reached him.

“Good afternoon, lad; my name’s Aaryan Patel, Director Johnson told me I could have a word with you.” He said, moving closer to the lad and using an authoritative figure as a reference to ensure the lad paid attention; he had dealt with many of those arrogant lads in the past couple of hours to give the kid a chance to mock him or simply ignore him.

“Eh?” The lad huffed, flexing his muscles and shaking the soaked t-shirt. This was pretty much the expected behaviour from any football player giving an interview after an hour and a half of strenuous exercise. What Aaryan, as any good fan of the game, should have remembered. So he repeated the information to the lad.

“My name’s Aaryan and you’re Duke, right? I want to ask you a few things about the school.”

“Sure, mate.” The lad replied, looking more awake after taking off his shirt and showing off his powerful physique, even though it was clear that not much was going on upstairs. This diminished Aaryan’s hopes of getting any productive conversation, as it was obvious the lad belonged there. Still, he decided to press on; when in Rome…

“So, what do you think of the school? Settling in well?”

“Aaron, mate, this place is brilliant! I begged for nearly two years to come here, but my dad thought I’d have better chances of getting signed if I kept training in a bigger city. It was only when Coach BIG took over the sports department that he was convinced.”

“Um… just out of curiosity, who’s your dad?”

“Haha, as if you don’t know who he is, Aaron, mate! I’m not some little kid to fall for your tricks.” The lad replied, giving a thumbs up.

“What are you on about?” Aary… Aaron asked, confused. But then something worse happened; the lad turned to the middle of the pitch where his teammates were milling about, shirtless, chatting and joking under the watchful eye of the coach, who was in turn under the direct supervision of the head of the sports department, the infamous BIG, who was precisely the person the lad was addressing.

“Oi, Coach BIG! Come meet my mate, Aaron.” And to Aaron’s horror, the man who instilled all his primal fears turned to him, serious for being interrupted, but soon a mischievous grin spread across his face.

Strutting towards the two with all the arrogance in the world, looking at Aaron with the same gaze a lion gives to a gazelle before it attacks, making Aaron’s knees tremble… but why? He should respect the bloke, of course… but no matter how big he was, Aaron could handle him… how? Certainly not with words… hey… what was he thinking here? What intrusive thoughts were those? However, he had no time to fight against those ideas so contrary to his essence because at that moment, the coach was standing before him, eclipsing everything else with his immense physical presence.

“Aaryan Patel, the man of the moment! You have no idea how much I wanted to meet you!”

“It’s Aaron… sir.” He added. The respect for the figure of coaches ingrained in him wouldn’t allow him to respond any other way. But why so much respect?

“When young Duke told me he knew you, I couldn’t resist the idea of bringing him here. But where exactly do you two know each other from?”

“Eh… what?” He had just met the lad, right? But then where did the memories of him teaching the kid fighting positions come from? Fighting? What fighting? In the midst of his confusion, it was Duke who answered.

“It’s my dad’s agency that looks after Aaron’s career, coach. In fact, he’s been following Aaron from the beginning; he’s spent more time at our house than at his own over the last few years.”

“Oh, of course. A cunning man like Archie wouldn’t let a talent like that slip through his fingers.” Agency, what agency? Big-name journalists needed agents, but a rookie like Aaron… mate, in his world, even rookies needed a decent agent; it was the difference between a million-dollar career and retirement in the gutter, and Wall Archie was the best; after all, he had experienced firsthand how cruel that world could be. Yeah, the world was a cruel place, and it was his duty to expose those ills… No, not that, what he needed to do was fight… yes, fight for improvements in society… mate, society was what it was and that was that… in this life, you either lose or win, and Aaron Blink Patel, rising star of the heavyweight MMA scene, was born to win. He earned the nickname for the short time he needed to take down opponents. Which was almost the same amount of time he dedicated to interviews with journalists. He didn’t need many words in his life, being known for keeping his opinion to himself, aware of what the media vultures could do to his career. The only time he expressed his opinions was when he was with his friends, when he let out all the intensity inside him, in conversations filled with cheeky banter and heated praises of masculinity in today’s world. And if there was someone who was the ultimate representation of masculinity, it was Aaron Fucking Blink Patel!

“No… no…”

“Aaron, mate, it’s all good?”

“Of course it is, Duke; it’s just the fighter inside him manifesting, but now it’s just a matter of a blink and it’ll all be sorted.” Coach BIG commented.

“Just a blink…” Aaron grumbled, and then… blink… and… his toned, lean torso expanded like a flower blooming, if flowers were made of huge, protruding muscles and their scent was an animalistic musk, with a touch of spices that didn’t go unnoticed even in that place full of sweaty young men… blink … and his legs exploded in size and power needed to crush opponents… blink… and the years dedicated to reading and research evaporated, replaced by training in jiu-jitsu, boxing, and Muay Thai… blink… and all the pent-up rage inside him flowed out in flowery words in sharp texts, concentrating in the massive paws that were his fists and feet… wink… and Aaron Blink Patel found himself smiling at the man and the lad before him, an image seen only by those the fighter deemed worthy. But he’d known Duke since he was younger than the kid, and after hearing the glowing praise he gave about his new coach, the man earned Aaron’s respect without needing to lift a finger.

“Sorry, what were you saying, sir?”

“You can call me Coach BIG; Aaron is what everyone calls me.”

“Yes, sir.” He replied, causing Duke to burst into laughter.

“You’re a lost cause, mate.”

“Actually, I think Aaron is a great example to follow; I wish my rowdy students had his level of respect.” Coach BIG commented, his voice cutting, making the lad’s smile fade instantly. “By the way, after I speak to the team, I’d love for you to have a word with those rascals, Aaron. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a motivational speech to give. Duke, keep him company while I’m at it.”

“Yes, coach, sir.”

“See? Just your presence has instilled some respect in this cheeky little sod.” The coach commented before returning to the pitch to address the teams.

“Could you not be such a teacher’s pet, mate?”

“I only got where I am because I respected my coaches and your dad; authority figures are there to be respected. Don’t you want to be captain of the team? Don’t you want to be a pro one day? You could already be playing for a real team if you had a bit more discipline since talent isn’t lacking. Take advantage of that man.” He said, pointing to the coach who was animatedly giving a speech. “BIG is a legend, a legend capable of making other legends; it was a scandal to find out a man like him had moved to the States, but the results he achieved with Dalton’s teams speak for themselves. And he brought in fucking Zeke Hastings to train you lot, and your dad to manage those of you who are truly capable of going pro. So yes, listen to what your coaches have to say; you may think it’s just theatre, but it’s the attitude that separates the men from the boys.” Aaron finished, flexing his powerful muscles to the point where the polo shirt he was wearing ripped under his arms.

“Wow, mate! That’s wicked! You’re a beast!” Duke said with such genuine admiration that Aaron couldn’t help but smile and repeat the feat, tearing his shirt even more before returning to a serious demeanor and looking at the younger lad.

“And you know how I became who I am today, little brother? By listening to all the shite my coaches had to say to me!” He said, pointing in the direction of Coach BIG, who was just finishing his speech, raising his voice so that everyone on the pitch and in the stands could hear him easily.

“… because this society wants to diminish you, weaken you. They want you to believe that being a man is wrong, that being what we were born to be is a shame. But they don’t know the power you carry with you, the influence you possess; many of you will be professional athletes, some already are. You’ll be seen around the world, admired, able to inspire, capable of making our brothers, hounded by our enemies, react, and more than that, you can make some of those enemies see the mistakes they’ve made and bring them back to the right path, and for those who insist on their mistakes, you’ll be able to hit them where it hurts most, where they’ve been hitting us for years, and I’m talking about their children; You will shape and save them because you have the power to correct what’s wrong in this generation, then in they do same with the next. The truth is men, and never forget it, you have power! And we’ll use it to secure a better, brighter future!

[leosxrealm]

ꜱᴀᴜᴅᴀᴅᴇ

pairing(s): prince! Arthur Leclerc x male! knight! reader

warning(s): mentions of injury, mentions of death, royal au! forbidden romance(?), angst

(a/n): a lot of backstory and angst. also this was inspired the moodboard i made. and inspired by the song– sign of the times by harry styles. also the dynamic was kind of inspired by patrochilles from tsoa.

wc: 1.6k

!not proofread!

"Y/n! Uncle!"

You hear the high-pitched voice of a young boy. On turning around, you see him running towards you. But he never reaches you.

You let out a sigh. Seeing Arthur trip on his own feet was not an uncommon sight for you. You could never understand how a prince could be so clumsy. You walk over towards him, helping the poor boy up.

"Prince Arthur," your father greets him with a small smile.

"Uncle!" the younger beams.

"What brings you here, your Highness?" your father asks him, curious about why the youngest prince was near the soldier's quarters, which happened to be on the opposite side of the Prince's room.

Arthur stills for a second, gathering his thoughts. "My father has requested your presence. He said something about- about-" He trails off, not remembering the rest of what his father had said.

Your father smiles down at him. You didn't know what he found amusing about him. Your father turns to you, giving you a small smile, "I have to go. Please take care of Prince Arthur and escort him back to his room."

"Yes, father."

---

You look around the hallways as you walk behind the youngest prince. The royal quarters were completely different from what you were used to.

Arthur's room soon comes into your field of vision. It was only a few paces down Prince Charles'. "Do you want to come in?" he asks excitedly, eager to show you the new toys his father had brought from his recent travels.

You accept his request. It's not like you could say no to a Prince; you were a nobody compared to him.

---

You had been practicing your sword skills near the river bank before you were disturbed by the presence of another person. It took you a second to recognize him. After all, you didn't expect him to be here. 

"Hello!" he said after spotting you, his eyes full of innocence and with the biggest smile on his face. 

"Your Highness," you bow, just like you were taught to. He frowned, he never liked how you treated him like a prince. He wanted to be your friend, and friends don't bow to each other. Or act like one was superior.

He quickly changed the topic, asking you to teach him some of your sword moves.

"You have a trainer already," you pointed out, "appointed by the king."

"But I don't like him," he replied, pouting like a child. You sometimes forget that he's a prince. From what you were told, a prince shouldn't act this way. Maybe he got away with it because he was the youngest, you wondered.

"I'm not a teacher," you replied, hoping the annoying boy would go away already. "But you could teach a friend!" Arthur replied happily. You take a moment to answer. "You're a prince. We can not be friends." You walk away from the river, going back to the soldier's quarters.

Arthur watched you walk away from him. He didn't understand why you disliked him so much. All he wanted was a friend.

---

You were appointed to accompany the youngest prince while he went to the local bazaar. He wouldn't let anyone else accompany him and of course, the king couldn't let him go alone.

Arthur had made it known that you would be the only one he would allow to be near him. So upon receiving direct orders from the King, you couldn't exactly say no.

---

His eyes beg you. Trying to covey the words his mouth couldn't. Was it selfish of him? To want you to stay when the kingdom was under attack? He searches your eyes. What was he trying to find?

You step closer to him. Your hand gently cups his face, bringing him closer, till your foreheads touch.

"I have to go," you whisper, your breath tickling his face. A lump forms in his throat. He doesn't want you to leave.

His stomach churns at the thoughts that cross his mind. The 'what if' scenarios running through his mind. He can't shake off this feeling he has.

"Don't." It's so quiet you barely hear it. "Please."

"My Prince." You pull him into your embrace, gently tucking his face in the curve of your neck. One of your hands around his back, the other supporting his head.

"My love," you try to console him. It hurt you to see him like that. It hurt you the most to know you were the reason for his current state. 

"At least..." he tries to say before his own sobs cut him off. "At least stay the night." 

You look at Arthur. He was clutching your vest, scared that if he let go, you would leave. He reminded you of the young boy you had met all those years ago. 

The clumsy little boy, who used to run around the palace barefoot, tripping so often that his arms and legs were scattered in scars. 

The determined little boy, who used to beg you to teach him how to fight because he didn't think he was strong enough to deserve the title of prince. The smart little boy, who taught you how to read and write, something you had never learned because a soldier had no use for such things.

The caring little boy, who stayed up all night once to look after you after you had caught a severe cold.

The sensitive little boy, who cried when he found a dead butterfly in the garden. You didn't have the heart to tell him that those things barely lived for a few weeks. The brave little boy, who fought his father, the king, because the king forbade him from spending time together with lowlifes.

You smile at the memory. Arthur had fought his own father all because he called you a lowlife. You knew your place in the system. It wasn't the first time you had heard such a thing. It's what you were so you didn't ever consider it an insult. 

But seeing Arthur defend you like that, against the king of all people, had really made you see him in a new life.

You tighten your arms around him. You didn't want to leave him here. But this was a war the kingdom couldn't afford to lose. Things had been especially tough on the frontlines. 

"Of course, my love," you reply softly, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head. 

---

Arthur woke up the next day to an empty bed. You were nowhere to be seen. Deep inside, he knew you had already left. You were probably about to reach the battlegrounds.

He rolled over to your side of the bed. At least that's what he had been calling it ever since you had started spending the nights in his room. It was already cold.

He tried to sleep again, to get away from the thoughts clouding his mind but to no avail.

Something caught his eye. It was sitting on top of the nightstand. He reached out grabbing the small piece of jewelry.

He recognized it. It was a simple silver chain with your birthstone hanging from it. It was the most precious thing you had. You had told him once. A gift from your late mother.

He carefully wrapped his fingers around it. He knew how much it meant to you. It was your treasure and you had left it in his care. He brought the necklace closer to him. Like he was holding a piece of you. 

He curled up in a ball, weeping quietly. The reality of the situation hit him. There was only one instance he could think of where you would leave behind your most treasured necklace.

---

The Sun had already settled for the day. The stars, shining like little gems in the blanket of darkness. It had been a long day for the two young boys. Sweaty and tired, they laid in the freshly trimmed grass. 

"You did good today." the shorter of the two turned  his head to look at his companion. You had never been the first to start a conversation with him, much less compliment him. Arthur felt himself turning red as you laid there oblivious. 

"Thanks," he meeked out. He turned to look at you once again. Your had laid comfortably on the ground, your eyes closed, the moon that had previously been hiding behind the clouds was now shining its luminance onto you. 

Heavenly. You looked heavenly. It was the only way he could describe you. He closed his eyes, taking in the smell of the grass surrounding him, and of the blooming flowers through the wind. the sound of the leaves rattling, and you.

"I want to learn life with you."

You opened your eyes slowly. It had been so quiet that you barely heard it. You turned to the boy next to you. Or rather the man next to you. He was fifteen, turning sixteen in a few weeks. 

He was no longer the clumsy little boy you had met. He fitted into his role as the prince perfectly. He knew how to fight now. He was attending meetings when his brothers couldn't. His opinions were heard in the council. Everyone had acknowledged him as a man, as a dutiful prince. 

He had even changed physically. He was taller than you remembered. Stronger, even. His muscles were starting to show. His voice was slightly deeper. His hair was longer. He had grown. Before you knew it, a smile had appeared on your face. 

---

He holds the letter close to him, the edges of the paper crumbling under his fingers. The tears staining the paper. It was written in a hurry, he could tell. Addressed to him, sitting neatly on the nightstand next to your necklace.

He wailed.

Please forgive me, my prince. I would not be there to accompany you till the end. I wish it didn't had to end like this. I wish I got learn more of life with you.

I hope we can meet again somewhere. Somewhere far away from here. Maybe in the after life. Until then, take care of yourself, my love.

Love,

Your Knight

(a/n): i've written after soooo many months so its kinda weird and all over the place. and a little rushed. I'll get better when i start writing more eventually i promise🤞🏼i still hope you guys enjoyed it

[lilithofpenandbook]

What if Snape's teaching style is the way it is because he's trying to compensate for how Slughorn taught, and has gone into overcorrection? Like, their teaching styles are the exact opposite. So what if Snape's game plan, from the beginning when he was a teacher at 21 and also a Head of House (and how messed up is that? The boy who just came out of a severely traumatic situation is now the Head of House too? Considering how reluctant Slughorn was to return, I wouldn't be surprised if that very September he quit and forced Snape into that role, the role of authority over boys and girls who were his peers just a few years ago, the oldest of them who witnessed his humiliations at the hands of the marauders, like that's just so messed up) was to do everything that Slughorn didn't do and nothing that Slughorn did do?

I can imagine there would be a lot of resentment from Snape's side. Slughorn failed him, failed Slytherin, spectacularly. Forget his neglectful teaching, he didn't even try stop the cult growing in his House. How can you be the head of a house and not be aware of the cult being formed? The kids are there more than they are at home. If there's any place to correct their beliefs, it would be at Hogwarts. And considering how horrifically Snape was bullied, I can imagine he'd still be so angry that Slughorn didn't notice, didn't try to protect him, especially now he's in Slughorn's place.

So I can imagine that he swore to not repeat any of Slughorn's mistakes and went hard into the other direction. Very hard. The reason he's so ludicrously strict is because he's still young. The other teachers have had the decades of experience needed to form their own style and know when to be strict and when to bend. Snape doesn't have that, he probably just has "Don't be Slughorn" and still doesn't know when to be flexible.

Anyway, it's just an interesting thought I had.

[runningwithscizzorz]

follow up movement art question! How do you apply this to your bodies or form? I feel like gesture drawing really works well for me but when I start to hash out the details then I get frustrated and stuck.

Don’t focus on details when you’re trying to emphasize movement in gesture drawings. Instead, set a timer for two minutes per pose, and try to capture the most information of the figure possible with the least amount of work. This not only teaches you how to work quickly, but trains your eye on what part of the body is conveying the most information with the strongest line. You can find the posture of a person through a single line if you know what to look for in their anatomical composure

With illustrations however, you’re typically (depending on your style) forced to cut down on how many lines you use to emphasize motion. Instead you must use what lies around the character to show depth and weight. When directly on the body, the easiest way to show movement is your clothes and hair, as shown above.

MK slamming into Redson causing their arms, jacket, and hair to fly infront of them like a rag doll while they’re blown backwards. Mei swinging her arm over to throw the snowball while running causes her jacket, tail, leg, and hair to whip in the opposite direction of the force of her arm to keep her balanced.

[beelmons]

Hi! An idea I had was an enemies to lovers where Spencer says something he regrets like they slept together and reader sort of wears her heart on her sleeve and thought everything was okay between them but Spencer is still being hateful to reader and she’s confused until he’s like “I just wanted to sleep with you, nothing more”. Or smth like that 💗

cw: post prison spencer, mean!Spencer, angst no happy ending

You didn't know what it was, and if he was being honest neither did he, but Spencer Reid hated you to his core.

It started the day he met you, shortly after Emily Prentiss took over as Unit Chief, when you were assigned to the BAU as a probatory agent. Two rookies, Luke Alvez and yourself, being added to the team was not necessarily her vision of a perfect taskforce, but she could make it work with some help of her friends, hence why Tara and JJ were told to shadow Luke, and Rossi and Reid to shadow you.

But, of course, Rossi had less of a hands-on teaching style, so he was barely around in the field with you, leaving you to the capable hands of a recently traumatized Spencer Reid.

It was loathing at first sight, because, he'd never admit, something about you remided him of Cat Adams.

Maybe something in your eyes, or the way you walked, or perhaps the sound of your laugh, but his back muscles tensed whenever you were around, his hands curled into a fist, and his eyes couldn't help but narrow in suspicion.

A little extra issue, though, his member would also get extremely hard.

"You did what?!" Luke almost shouted from his desk.

"Shut up, man!" you pushed him by the shoulders, trying to sink him further into his seat "We slept together, alright?"

"How did you even make that happen? I thought he..." the man stopped himself once his ability to think before speaking came through.

"Hated me? Yeah." you finished his sentence "I don't know what to tell you. It was late, he was checking my preliminary profile, he said it was good and insightful, and next thing I know I'm facing the wall with my panties down to my ankles."

"Well, I guess that's one way to patch things up." he teased "So, what? are you guys dating?"

"I... don't think so?" you said with certain sadness "He left while I was cleaning myself up in the bathroom."

Luke was about to emit an opinion of his own when he sensed, but a foreign sound interrupted him.

"Good morning!" JJ's cheery voice caused the two of you to look up.

In the distance, Jennifer and Spencer walked towards your spot. You couldn't help the hopeless grin that appeared on your face at the sight of him, the same one he walked past without a single word.

Your crescent faded as quick as it came. What the hell was that? Giving you the cold shoulder like you are 10 and pulled his pigtails at the playground.

You heard the chief call to the round table and decided to save your little highschool quarrel for later. Luckily, serial killers had decided to take a break, and so your day would be desk duty only.

"Hey." when the clock neared lunch time, you decided to approach Reid.

He begrudingly raised his sight, pulling it away from you almost immediately. "Hey."

"Mind going to lunch with me?" you asked.

"I brought my own, thanks." he dryly refuted.

"Uhm, Reid." you moved in closer to his ear, and he almost flinched "That was code for 'I need to talk to you'"

"I'm aware of the connotations of your sentence, I just happen to not care for what the actual meaning entails." his eyes still refused to move to you.

He was back to being the annoying asshole you had always met, the exact opposite of the caring soul everyone else seemed to face on the daily.

"I..." a knot began to form on your throat "I thought we were okay again."

At last, he deemed you worthy of his stare, his eyes locking with yours and vaguely narrowing in your direction. You could see the burning flame of despise in them, the chilling sensation that if he could, he would take the life out of you with his hands in a second.

"Were we ever?" he snarked.

Something snapped, and you were blessed that the only two people you knew in the ballpen were Luke and Tara, who were merrily sharing some chinese food, otherwise you would had certainly been fired.

"Wha the fuck is your problem?!" you yelled as your hands smacked the surface of his desk.

"What are you-" he tried to complain.

"You had not once shown me a gentle face since I met you, and suddenly, you act reassuring and supportive, only to disappear without a word, and then act like not a thing happened!" you continued to raise your voice, your hands reaching to grip at his shoulders and force you to look at you when he tried to divert his gaze.

The sensation of being cornered and exposed caused an odd reaction out of him, you could see it in his eyes, almost as if he wasn't truly there.

"Did it ever cross your mind I said all this so you would let me fuck you?" his voice was almost as loud as yours "If not, then you are not half as good profiler as I thought you were."

Piercing. That's how it felt. The unmistakable sensation of a puncture to the heart. There was nothing else you could to do help yourself, or the tears that ran down your cheeks.

"What did I..." you began to mutter almost to yourself. Luke's arms had moved to your shoulders, tugging you away from your coworker. "What did I ever do to you?" you asked weakly, Luke now blocking Spencer from your line of sight.

The doctor was astonished by his own words, even more so by your tears. He didn't know how to describe them, they just seemed so... sincere?

"Spencer?" Tara called for a third time, snapping him out of a self-induced trance.

"What?" he asked.

"What happened?" she inquired again "Why would you say something like that?"

"I-" he looked around trying to find you, but your friend had taken you away "I don't know."

The fight would get to Emily's ears later in the day. Spencer was dismissed for the remainer of his shift, and so were you.

A part of him was being eaten alive by remorse, but the other, the one he deemed his conscious mind, tried to convice him he had done nothing wrong. Hadn't he spoken the truth? There was no reason to like you. Your gentle demeanor was not excuse enough, neither was your peculiar humor, or your relentless dedication to do good.

There was no reason to like you when you had caused him so much pain. Hadn't you?

His brain felt foggy, clouded, confused. Beyond his control, his body dragged him in the direction of your house, only to find himself at a crossroad he didn't know the name of.

Where did you live again? He had never asked you. Perhaps, he could call you. But your work phone was off and he didn't have your personal. What if he asked Luke? Yeah, right. After what he had witnessed, how could he be remotely on his side? He was forced back home, he would talk to you the next morning at work.

Was there something to talk about?

"A transfer?" Luke asked Penelope.

"She asked me to put a rush to it." the blonde clarified.

"And did you?" the man inquired with curiosity.

Garcia nodded with a pout.

"She just looked so sad." she clarified.

A knock on her door interrupted the conversation, and a soft 'come in' prompted Spencer to walk into the room.

The two coworkers shot him a look, curious and pitiful at the same time. Spencer narrowed his eyes questioningly at them.

"What?" he finally said.

"We know you've been through a lot." Penelope began to say "That you were taking it out on her for some reason, but I think you might have done this time, boy wonder."

Reid couldn't help but to swallow back a knot. They were right. Objectively, you had done nothing wrong. But objectivity had long lost its meaning, since he had learned that his reality could be bent to someone else's will to a point where he didn't know what was real and what wasn't.

"I didn't mean what I said." he quickly explained "That's what's I wanted to tell her."

"Well," Luke almost snarked at him "That's going to be a little hard now that she's gone."

"What do you mean?" Reid inquired.

"She had requested a transfer to the defense department months ago." Penelope explained "I just rushed some paperwork, but the deal was basically made."

Exposed to these news, Spencer bolted off the tech office and straight into Prentiss's. He basically stomped in, causing Emily to look confused for a solid second.

"Revert the transfer." he demanded, his palms firmly pressed on the desk.

"I thought you would be relieved..." she began to explain.

"We need her here. She's the most promising profiler we've seen in a while." he argued.

"Really?" Emily cocked an eyebrow "Because just a month ago your report indicated she was just average."

Spencer rolled his eyes and brought his hands to his hair, frustratedly turning around the office. He took a couple of deeo breaths, out of the corner of his eye he noticed your desk. Your belongings were already packed inna box, possibly Luke's doing to save you the awkwardness of a tidying up visit.

"I made a mistake." he admitted, his eyes still fixed on your empty chair.

"I'm sorry, Spence." the unit chief said "Sometimes, we just have to live with the consequences of our mistakes."

[stardustizuku]

I love reading part 2 and realizing how, consistantly, when Myne’s first instinct always tend towards attacks and violence towards those who are trying to hurt her important people, Ferdinand ALWAYS deters her into a defensive role.

And it obviously makes sense, given his attitude towards politics in general. He’s the type to always value planning and scheming rather than direct attacks.

So it’s super interesting to see his ideologies shape the way Myne and eventually Rozemyne develop. Specifically when it comes to how she uses her mana.

Myne’s first use of mana are always attacks. Always the Crushing even when confronted by Bezenwast. But in part 2, when Rosina and Fran are in danger Ferdinand teaches her that using defensive magic is often times even more important.

That’s when she first created the Wind Shield.

And it ends up becoming her signature move (along with the Flutrane staff and healing)

Because that’s the role she was shaped into assuming. Her mana is so powerful that using direct attacks is extremely dangerous.

Many people in the royal academy AND the royal family assume that Rozemyne has a defensive and passive fighting style because that’s who she is.

But it’s the opposite!

She’s such a powerful hot head that she had to learn how to to protect - because if she ever tried to attack even those she cared would be blown up in the aftermath

Her defensive magic and healing abilities aren’t proof of how weak she is - they’re proof of how strong she is

[hotheadedhero]

Turtles x Ballerina

A/N: Written with the Bayverse boys in mind. A cute little fluff thing with our turtles dating a ballerina reader.

Leonardo

Ballet is such a beautiful art form in his eyes, especially when you dance it. The way you move like the running water of a stream has him infatuated. Your devotion and knowing that you've been doing this from such a young age is amazing - drawing similar parallels to how he is with his Ninjistu. Because of this, you have a mutual understanding of your needs to take time for practice. How else will you both amount to the best of your abilities?

When you do get time for one another, more often than not you still find ways of practising in each other's presence. Leo isn't often easily distracted but you somehow find a way of holding his attention when you rehearse. He just can't find it in himself to look away when your body straightens out into a perfect arabesque.

"Shouldn't you be focusing on your own regime?" you ask through a grin, barely even looking in his direction.

All he can do is smile fondly as he returns to focusing on his forms. The only thing that can detour him from his training is you and he holds no shame in admitting it either.

Raphael

It's such a juxtaposition to how he is as a person. Raphael has always hated the way his family would call him aggressive, a brute who needs to reign in it, but those words ring true in his mind when he watches you dance. You are absolutely stunning - a porcelain ballerina inside a music box. How could someone as elegant and delicate as yourself possibly be with someone like him?

At the start of your relationship, he'd always fear that he'd somehow hurt you with just a simple touch of his fingers. Even after all this time, he still catches himself making a conscious effort to be more careful when you're in his arms. He just doesn't want to run the risk of hurting his precious ballerina. The way you hold yourself with such grandeur couldn't be more opposite to his stature.

So it's a surprise when you watch him sparring with his brothers and say, "You move so effortlessly! That was amazing."

It takes him for a spin but serves as a heartfelt reminder that deep down he isn't as barbaric as everyone else claims him to be. When it comes to you, anyway.

Donatello

He would probably find a way to think about your movements geometrically. The way you can thoughtlessly angle your arms and legs at such perfect angles is fascinating to him. Don't even get him started on the gentle momentum of your pirouette: it's as though you're in a state of inertia, only being forced to move by the tame tug of a magnet.

Much like Leo, he is just in awe of your movements. Dancing isn't much his thing, however, so he feels a little out of his depth when you want to dance with him. He's a thinker, a builder, a fighter; the only thing his hands and body are good for is inventing and taking down criminals. When you start playing the music, his mind trips over the basic forms you've tried to teach him through word of mouth, instead getting lost in the ways he could mess it up.

"Just turn that brain off for a moment," you say, wearing that sweet smile he loves as you hold his hands. "Keep your eyes on me, okay? I'll lead."

Admittedly, it's a clumsy display on his end but you two have fun, nonetheless. He also gains a new appreciation for what you do in that moment.

Michelangelo

This guy loves music, especially of the upbeat genres, so it's different to see what you dance to. That doesn't mean to say he doesn't like it though. Although it's a little slow-paced for his usual taste, he still loves it. He would probably try and teach you some of his moves and you would do the same for him. It's not a discredit to his abilities but he definitely struggles to replicate whatever it is you attempt to teach him.

Somehow, you find a way to integrate the fast-moving music with your graceful flow. The assumably opposing styles of dance turn out to work in perfect tandem with one another and it's actually pretty kick-ass! Not to mention, it's a good time when you try to implement each other's techniques in the little dancing sessions you often engage in. This is usually in the kitchen when you guys are cooking together with some tunes in the background.

"This kind of reminds me of that one movie," you muse. "I think it's called 'Save the Last Dance' or something."

Sure enough, you add it to one of your movie nights to watch together. None of the dancers in it have anything on you though.

[middlenamesage]

What each sign teaches us plus some hard truths each might need to ask!

KEEP IN MIND we all have all the signs in our birth chart; whether those houses are “empty” or not, they still have influence. We also all experience transits through all the signs, and we even have progressed charts that account for the archetypes we get more into learning later on. So take WHATEVER resonates for you with any of this!

♈️🐏 Aries teaches us action and that action comes from us with the least resistance when we know and trust who we are as an individual.

Hard truth: Aries, have you been seeing yourself or living your life as though you’re a one-man island? You might think you’re stronger than others for your hyper-independence, but at times the greatest strength for YOU is recognizing and embracing what others have contributed to your life and to who you are. It could also behoove you to think of others or to think more carefully through potential outcomes before you act sometimes.

♉️🐂 Taurus teaches us personal peace by aligning our focus on what we need for material and psychological stability.

Hard truth: Taurus, have your values, personal preferences, or your attachment to possessions become overly rigid? While honoring our values and preferences and ensuring we have the necessary items for material security and comfort are an important part of the process in finding peace, total inflexibility about these things can end up sending you in the opposite direction of peace.

♊️🌬️ Gemini teaches us to gather objective information from the world around us, and how to communicate information.

Hard truth: Gemini, have you been looking down so many avenues of knowledge, that you haven’t allowed yourself the time and sustained focus to sort out your own philosophies, or go more into depth or meaning, around the subjects you’re learning? At times you should also strive to keep better track of what you’re communicating to people, and to focus on understanding the meaning you project with your words, not just the information provided by them.

♋️🦀 Cancer teaches us how to emotionally support ourselves and others (self nurturance is key for support of others to be most functionally helpful)

Hard truth: Cancer, have you become so focused on protecting yourself or others, that you’ve started to see danger where it doesn’t even exist? Careful, paranoia is not a good look for anyone, but especially not you. There’s a reason you have instincts to build walls around you, not unlike a crab retreating into its shell. 🦀 But if this becomes a default action and not just used when it’s actually needed to protect your space or safety, the function of your energy to support and nurture can not be as well realized.

♌️🦁 Leo teaches us confidence in authentic expression of self. Where the first fire sign teaches us confidence in establishing self, the next one teaches us how to implement authentic expression of oneself.

Hard truth: Leo, have you been going out of your way to seek input from others that your self expression is valid? Well cut that out if so, because that would defeat the entire purpose of practicing YOUR expression. YOU decide if it’s valid. I could also advise something like “be less self centered!”… but honestly that’ll just start to happen naturally once you’re actually authentically relying on your own validation only. 🦁

♍️🌾 Virgo teaches us how to take care of things in the practical realm. We wouldn’t have a functioning world around us in this physical plane if it weren’t for Virgoan energy assessing all the details of structures, systems, and routines… makes sense I’ve read from at least one source that Virgo is the most common Sun sign!

Hard truth: Virgo, have you gotten so up in your head, Mercury style, about the details of your routines or the tasks you need to do, that it’s become challenging to actually successfully or efficiently attend to them? When Virgo energy gets dysfunctional like this it could really take a cue from Mars/Aries. “Just do it!” Also, whenever you start to find yourself being especially critical of yourself or others, you could stand to remind yourself of the big picture dynamics, concepts, or goals you have in mind.

♎️⚖️ Libra teaches us interpersonal peace by putting the focus on compromise and balance.

Hard truth: Libra, if you’ve been going out of your way to appease others, you might need to ask yourself if this is because you truly care about what’s best for them, or if it’s a behavior more connected to lack of rootedness in YOURSELF that makes you averse to conflict? It’s important for you to try to get to know and exercise your authentic individuality. The South Node currently in Libra with the North Node in Aries can help anyone who wants to make progress here.

♏️🦂 Scorpio teaches us how to face our shadows and ultimately how to integrate them so that we may transform.

Hard truth: Scorpio, have you been so obsessed on analyzing your past for answers to why you are as you are, that you’ve forgotten to just focus on finding some personal peace in the moment? You could take a cue from your opposite/sister sign Taurus if you find yourself in this position. 🖤 Also, when it comes to your trust issues, two big things will ultimately help: 1.) Build your SELF trust through giving yourself the opportunities to make and carry out your own decisions (Scorpio is Mars too and needs to act!) and 2.) Use/cultivate your deep instincts about people to ensure it’s supportive people you have most around you, while doing whatever you can to keep the toxic ones out.

♐️🏹 Sagittarius teaches us how to form our beliefs and find meaning however it encourages you to expand.

Hard truth: Sagittarius, have you fallen into the trap of thinking the philosophies that give YOUR life meaning are the same beliefs that others need to adopt? WHOA back up there buckaroo! It’d behoove you to remember that Sagittarius is a fire sign, so it deals with some personal aspects of our individuality. Not everyone will find inspiration to expand from the same designations of meaning as you, and you need to learn to not try to push your worldviews on anyone who isn’t receptive.

♑️🐐 Capricorn teaches us how to build structure and commit to a long term goal/vision/plan.

Hard truth: Capricorn, have you become so blinded by your personal standards for quality or by what it is you’re trying to build to be a certain way, that anyone or anything that does not fit neatly into your structure appears as a threat or a reason to give up hope to you? At times you could stand to gain a little more flexibility and optimism. Setbacks do not mean the end, and if you could fast forward over your life you would see this, so if you’re having trouble seeing it now, try to see if you can regain a bit of the hopeful outlook from the sign that came just before you. I promise the capacity is within you. 😉

♒️🏺 Aquarius teaches us the ins and outs of society so that we may reflect on what we as an individual can bring to it or help liberate it.

Hard truth: Aquarius, have you been viewing yourself so much as an outsider, that it’s tempting to see yourself as separate from the rest of society? Well I have a hard truth for you: You’re not separate from it and not above it; no one is. And it’s especially dysfunctional for YOU to see yourself as a distinct and separate entity not influenced by society, or as too different from everyone else to be able to relate to them- society needs your insightful contribution!

♓️🐟 Pisces teaches us empathy and fosters our imagination through the understanding that everything is connected.

Hard truth: Pisces, have you been seeing yourself as the victim? You really need to hear that if you would just cut that out and start seeing yourself instead as an empowered dreamer with strong intuition you can continually cultivate, your ability to manifest* would be arguably the most insane of all the signs. (*Not that I support the idea that everything can be attained through manifestation alone.) Take it from a Pisces rising who learned the hard way and is feeling inspired to expand on this one: victimhood is The most detrimental trap for Pisces. Not only because it keeps your reality feeling like that of a victim, but also because Pisces energy is nearly functionally useless if it’s too self absorbed to ever see or act according to the Piscean message of interconnectedness. Learning the right amount to give compassionately of yourself, with the appropriate boundaries, is a crucial part of the Piscean journey!

Thanks for reading, and happy astrological evolution! 🌻

[yall-batman-fanfic]

The Three-Way Relationship - Batman/Bruce Wayne x Magician!Reader

Synopsis: Months after the events of their first meeting, Bruce and Vivian Pryer started seeing each other more than usual and eventually started dating. While their relationship deepens and becomes known amongst their peers and Gotham, there are still secrets between them: Batman. Rather, the identity of the Dark Knight. As her relationship with Bruce becomes more and more serious, the Batman's visits have been frequent to her home as well. Is it considered cheating if she was seeing two men who share the same body and mind?

I wouldn't want to be her therapist this week.

Vivian has been in a polygamous relationship when she was a teenager. It has its ups and downs, and after that experience, she realized she wasn't into the whole juggling two people in a relationship. One tends to get more needy and jealous despite saying the opposite, and she just got tired with the whole thing entirely. Maybe it was just a phase for her, she salutes those who can make it work.

But almost ten years later, she found herself in a relationship with two people. Both knew, of course, about her infatuation for them, but she didn't realize it wouldn't be so complicated to date two people who were just the same person.

~*~

He came to the amphitheater-style classroom where she was teaching about how icons become symbols, showing rows of symbols across history, asking her class at random what it meant as a symbol and what it was as an icon before, Poseidon's trident became the symbol of the devil's pitchfork or how a snake became a symbol used for medicine. Bruce tried to be as discreet as possible but as soon as he entered the room, a couple of students did a double take at his direction and were giggling. He smiled their way and made a gesture to keep quiet while having a teasing smile.

They knew what he meant, he'd been a visitor of Professor Vivian Pryor's at Gotham University for a while now. He would come to pick her up in his black Lamborghini with chocolates but usually coffee. He noticed how Vivian liked the combination more than the flowers. And there are times when he would personally make pizza deliveries for her whenever she would joke about craving for one. Of course, he'll get her something from authentic Italian restaurants in Little Italy.

Returning his gaze to the front, Bruce saw the entire class' attention was now in his direction, including Professor Pryor who couldn't help but bite her lip to stop the smile from forming. She was supposed to be a serious professor who doesn't let her personal life get mixed in her job but how could she not smile when Bruce Wayne came all the way from Wayne Tower just to see her? Still dressed in his business suit that showed his muscular physique.

"Mr. Wayne, if you're going to join us, please sit down," she told him as she leaned on her desk, arms crossed over her chest. Bruce found that pose to be attractive, with her hair tied to a loose bun, and her clothes that always made her stand out in the department. She would be the only female professor in the department who wore high-waisted, tweed pants, paired with a button-up blouse tucked in, then sometimes she wore a vest this time she opted not to, and her blazer, which Bruce would admit has seen better days but it was her favorite, and then heeled boots. She was every university boy's daydream. Well, looking at the class, some girls too were admiring her.

"My apologies, Professor Pryor," Bruce took the closest empty seat and gestured for her to continue.

"Right," Vivian sent a teasing look his way and then one that got her students back on track as she tapped on her laptop to show the next slide. Pushing up her glasses she started again with her lecture, now showing how symbolism worked in artwork. "How about we try something that's more contemporary?" She pressed the key.

Bruce frowned slightly, not because of a bad memory or something related to the Batman's work, but because of the symbol that was being projected. The famous blue, red, and yellow "S".

"What can you say about this symbol?" Vivian asked them.

Answers from the students were "hope", "truth", and "justice", then there's that one who said: "Luke's Monday jerk-off material!" laughter erupted in the crowd, and then someone called out: "fuck you!"

Vivian calmed the class but kept the light atmosphere as she continued: "Hope, truth, justice, that's all true, but before that -- before that became Superman, that was the family crest of the House of El, the family of Superman, from the planet of Krypton." She showed the clipping written by Lois Lane. "From a family sigil, it meant something more to everyone. But maybe to the man wearing it, it's a reminder of who he is and where he came from. Now, this one."

It was a photo of the Bat sign in the dark sky.

The words "fear", and "vengeance".

Good, Bruce thought but his frown deepened.

Then someone called out, "hope". The students turned to her in confusion, and the student continued, "Whenever I see that I know that I'm safe. That the Batman is there to keep me safe. To keep Gotham safe. He gives me hope that it will get better someday."

Vivian smiled and she glanced at Bruce's way before returning her gaze to her student and said, "Thank you, Ms. Ventrix... while there are no resources that the Batman's sigil truly is, we can go back to the origins of the symbol of the bat itself. For many pieces, the bat is linked to the symbol of fear, and our crime-fighting vigilante is continuously using that symbol to strike fear in the hearts of criminals in Gotham. But for those such as Ms. Ventrix, its symbol evolved to a new meaning. Hope. Maybe, when Gotham is no longer as it is now, everyone too will see Batman as that. A symbol for hope."

"Or be a kink. Like Vince dressing up as Joker and his girlfriend the Batman."

Everyone laughed, others cringed at the image.

Bruce wasn’t amused.

The bell rang and all the students were quick to gather their things. As they were packing their things, Vivian called out to remind them about the paper she would be expecting on their latest topic. As they exited the room, Bruce used the least used stairs and went to meet Vivian at the center, as he passed some students were greeting him with, "Hi Mr. Wayne," or "We'll make sure the coast is clear for you, Mr. Wayne! We'll even pull the fire alarm!" He chuckled at that.

Alone in the room, Bruce approached Vivian with a question, "What about you, Professor Pryor, what does the Batman mean to you?"

Vivian took a breath in thought, remembering the first time she formally met the vigilante, and then the next couple of times he visited her new apartment for some help with symbols and some of Riddler's little tricks (just as he promised). "Gotham City. The Batman is Gotham City to me."

"A little vague, don't you think?" Bruce took a bold move and held her by her waist and lifted her so she sat on the table and he settled himself between her legs as he held her close.

"I'm sure you can figure out what it means. Gotta exercise this," she tapped on his temple, "with something that's not charts and diagrams, and numbers, and whatever the hell it is you look at in your big office in Wayne Tower."

"Earlier I had a good view at my office. It was a photo on my phone of you wearing that little black dress that was revealing a little too much. A sight, I hope, is exclusively for me."

Vivian lets him kiss her deeply, and if it weren't for the sound of students' laughter outside she would have risked it there. But she loves her job, and she does like working at Gotham University.

Bruce whined when she pushed him away slightly and sat up, taking him with her. "Ever considered taking the job as a curator in the museum instead?" He joked.

"I'm already working part-time there. Besides, I like teaching," Vivian placed one last kiss on his lips before hopping off the desk to get all the papers that got imprinted on her pants, into her leather document holder and and packed her laptop into her personal bag. "So, what brings you here tonight, Bruce? I don't think we booked something tonight... unless I forgot. Did I say something about going to your archives tonight?"

"No, no -- and aren't you in your writing phase now?" Bruce reminded her. They were walking up the stairs and then out of the classroom as they conversed. "Yeah, I am. Still can't believe it, a couple of months ago I got my first book launched and now I'm starting on the next."

"Personally, I hope you take the time to write this one. Gives me an excuse to visit you often at work and your home, and vice versa."

"You know you can always do that even when I finish it, right?"

Yes, he can, he kept reminding himself. It took a while for him to come to terms that he was actually in a steady relationship with a woman who wasn't in his line of work. His nightly work. He had a couple of flings, some girls he took on dates to keep the persona of the billionaire-playboy, better to have an image of a playboy than a problematic billionaire who is bad in relationships. The press would have a field day on that.

There are nights when he would still remind himself that this was good. Even Alfred would remind him that he deserves this happiness with Vivian Pryor whenever his butler and surrogate father would find him brooding after every date or a call whenever he was wearing the cowl in the streets.

"We didn't have anything booked tonight. I just happened to have a free schedule tonight and I know you don't have anything booked this evening so I thought a spontaneous dinner would be nice -- and I know that you're a planner type of person but a little spontaneity is good. It sparks up inspiration."

"And keeps the romance interesting?" She teased. They were near the faculty's office, and a couple of her co-workers greeted her and Bruce, some were his old professors too when he attended Gotham University. When they were alone, Vivian got on her toes and placed a kiss on his lips. She can't get enough of him. "I'll just put these away then I'll meet you here for our spontaneous dinner. And let's keep the theme and try something new, something you've been thinking of for a while now."

Bruce smirked. "I don't think that's appropriate for dinner, but we can skip dinner, head to your place and just have take-out."

Vivian laughed. He loved hearing her laugh. If he was ever asked what that laugh ever meant to him, he would say, "serenity", "happiness", "fulfillment", and --

"Via, hey!"

Bruce's smile fell as a man exited the faculty room, a colleague of Vivian's, who happens to be an admirer of hers. He heard from a couple of students who would give him some gossip in the school about what they thought of their professor dating billionaire Bruce Wayne, and the name of a man would come up every time, and would be beside the words "admirer" and "department power-couple". The latter thought was just a joke made by the students to boost the man's esteem to ask out Professor Pryor, but he was too late now.

"Justin, hi!" Vivian faced the man. "Heading home?"

"Just getting dinner, I was wondering if you wanted to join me like old times -- you know, stop by the food truck for some burgers on the way to the bus stop," said Professor Justin Kirk.

"Sorry," Bruce spoke. "Vivian and I have plans tonight."

"Right. So, is your coming here gonna be a regular thing? Because parking is for students and faculty," Kirk said.

Bruce frowned.

"Justin!" Vivian chastised him.

Kirk raised his hands in surrender and then sidestepped his way while saying, "Kidding! Gotta go, Via! Enjoy the night!"

"He's getting on my nerves," said Bruce. "How about we head back to the classroom, lock the door, and let a few rumors slip so he'd get the message."

"I'll be fired for public indecency on campus?" Vivian raised a brow. "And I'd lose all respect from my peers and students?"

Huh, he didn't see that coming.

"Sorry, I didn't think about that -- he just gets on my nerves."

Vivian sighed. "Well, don't. Because it's you who I'll be sharing that food truck burger tonight, not Justin."

Bruce smiled. "Are we really going to get burgers from the food truck?"

"Whatever you want. There's a whole line of food trucks outside," she joked. "Now, let me go so I can drop this off and get my stuff, and then we can leave!"

With a last stolen kiss, Bruce let her go and waited outside. His eyes stared at the door where he could still see the imprint of Vivian's auburn hair. And whenever he thought of Vivian he would always associate her with the power he saw from her that night. The firebird formed as she cast the spell to wake the gargoyles in the crypts to save Batman from Deacon's people. To save him. And whenever he would see that firebird in his dreams it would bring him a sense of warmth and life. Just life itself.

The beeping of his phone had Bruce taking it out to see. Probably just Lucious Fox on the upgrades on the Batmobile. The man had a few ideas in mind that would make the car a force to be reckoned with. But with its latest design, based on the renderings, Bruce said, "it's a tank, Lucius."

"Yes, but a stylish one too. One that fits our dear friend's aesthetic. Don't you think? And yes, it comes in black."

Only, it wasn't Lucius Fox.

"Alfred?" Bruce greeted.

"Master Bruce, I understand that you planned on surprising Professor Pryor tonight but, apologies, there is an escalation in King Tut's case that you might find interesting."

Bruce frowned. "Understood. I'm on my way... but can you do me a favor?"

~*~

Vivian knew what that frown meant when she saw him ending the call. Though she was looking forward to it, she understood what he had to do. This was his life's work after all. Just like her career was her's. When Bruce finally saw her standing there, he had an apologetic look on his face as he said, "there's an emergency. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she forced a smile. She may understand but that doesn't mean she wasn't a bit disappointed. "You go do what you need to do. Hey, don't worry. This was a spontaneous thing, and then something spontaneous came."

"I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"You don't have to." Because you're out there protecting Gotham.

She held her tongue on the last bit. After the incident with Deacon Blackfire, Vivian had her suspicions about Bruce and the masked vigilante, Batman. She noticed it first woth their voice, then how they spoke, their mannerism, and then his smile. To say she had an attention to detail was an understatement. Being perseptive was part of her job description. But she never told him that she knew. Why? She tried answering that herself:

It wasn't her secret tot tell.

It might change everything that they have now and not for the better. Because Vivian knew Bruce, she knows what could possibly run through his head because she too was like than before.

Obsessed.

Anxious.

Self-destructive.

But she found a way to cope. As a girl who lost her mother in the most horrific way, she became obsessed with the occult and dark magic, just to bring her back or find the man who did it. She went on a self-destructive path that brought her and her friends to that certain day and she knew she had to change. So she diverted her obsession on the occult to her first love: history, art, symbols and icons.

It took one horrifying moment to stop herself in that destructive path. But Bruce...

"Let's just put a pin on this. I'll head home, and take the bus." Though she did just miss the one that she usually takes. She'll just hang out at a cafe to wait for the next one.

"No, I'll drive you home. Buy something along the way -- please. I know your bus is gone now. And I'm not leaving you here, stranded. It's getting dark, and you know how Gotham is at night."

For his sanity, she gave in. Taking his hand, Vivian hooked her arm around hiss as they walked out of the building and to his car. As promised, Bruce drove to a fast food of her choosing -- Vivian just chose the closest one on the way -- and drove her home. To her new apartment. This one was more secure and didn't look like it was going to fall apart with one of Riddler, the Joker, or Two-Face's bombs.

After sharing a couple of kisses, and Vivian reminding him of the emergency he needed to go to, she said her goodbye and went inside.

Now, sitting on her couch, eating the chicken tenders and salad Bruce bought her, Vivian decided to grade her students' papers. Better to do that than curse the villain who ruined their plans.

This reminded her of their first date all too well. It was right after the book launch, that Bruce sent a bouquet to the hotel room she and her family were staying at and a dinner invitation. Vivian was nervous when she saw the place, she'd never thought she would ever step foot in that vicinity. Because it was so fancy, she asked help from her father to choose what to wear. While Adam Royce was the type of father who would scare his daughter's boyfriend with a shotgun -- back in Liverpool, he got out all his medals and the knife he used in the field to scare Vivian's boyfriends then -- he was still supportive of his daughter. It was a little weird since Bruce was quite older than her and her father didn't seem to mind it at all.

"You're old enough to make your own decisions now, love," he told her. "But if he breaks your heart, I'll show him a thing or two on what I did in the field."

When the night came for their dinner, Vivian just arrived at the venue when she saw Bruce about to leave. He looked so disappointed and kept apologizing that he had to reschedule because there was an emergency. She didn't ask what, she just smiled and told him it was all right. He offered to drive her back to the hotel but Vivian told him she got that covered.

Vivian didn't go back to the hotel though, she went straight to a bar where she got a pint or two and then took a cab home. Her father knew what disappointment looked like and the smell of someone who had three pints. It took her and her brother, Oliver, to stop him before he got arrested for murdering the Prince of Gotham. Her sister, Olivia, on the other hand, was the enabler. No one messes with her big sister.

As promised, Bruce invited her to another dinner, and this time it went well. They had a good time. But Adam Royce was still not happy with Bruce Wayne for the first date.

"So much for first impressions," Bruce said when Vivian mentioned her father's plans on going all Special Ops on him.

Back in her apartment, she was just about to mark a paper written by her student when she was alerted by the seal at her balcony that someone has come. It was Batman.

"You're leaving the balcony open? Do you know how dangerous that is?" Batman scolded her.

"The evening breeze is nice, and I'm sure you know that my apartment is littered with spells to keep me safe," Vivian dropped her pen to meet him.

"This is Gotham City." He still hasn't stepped into her apartment and only did when she offered him some coffee. But he didn't take the offer, just the invitation inside.

"And Gotham City's my home. I shouldn't be afraid of it."

"You should be."

"Then what's the point of you in that case?" Vivian took her cup. "You know, one of my students said earlier that she feels safer at night knowing that you're out there protecting the city from criminals," she reminded him -- the man behind the mask -- of her class earlier, hoping it would ease his mind. "And I can say the same. Like I said, Gotham City is my home now."

Batman was silent for a moment, a sign that she later realized, after months of interacting with the vigilante, he lost an argument. Better to be silent than admit the loss.

His eyes turned to her coffee table where the papers and her food were. "You're having dinner?" He asked, changing the subject.

Typical.

"Yeah. I was supposed to go on a date -- albeit as a surprise -- but then he got an emergency. He made up for it with a ride home and takeout."

"You sound disappointed."

How she enjoyed this little game. Her juggling two men who have been frequently visiting her for two different purposes, but sometimes even someone like Bruce Wayne/Batman would slip and merge his agendas. Vivian has been in a polygamous relationship before but this was another level. Secrecy was involved. She can’t really say if this is cheating since she’s not making any advances at Batman and only does it for Bruce, but she does care for the former. Then again, they are the same person, so is that considered cheating if she does make a move on the Batman? Then again, Bruce/Batman don’t know that she knows his little secret.

God this was more complicated than when she had two boyfriends. Her therapist was going to have an interesting session with her this coming Thursday.

"It would have been nice, but, you know, life happens," she shrugged. "So, what brings you here? And you sure about the coffee?”

Batman thought for a while and then gave in. She knew his preference –rather, Bruce’s preference. Black coffee.That’s it. Good, because that’s also what she was having. No cream and sugar in her apartment. Well, there is but that’s for her cooking.

She placed it on a mug, the one he would always use whenever he stayed over or visited, and handed it to Batman.

“I’ve apprehended King Tut,” he began.

“The one who runs a sex cult and is talking inaccurate facts of ancient Egypt?”

“And who thinks he’s King Tut. And yes. When I was facing him, I thought of asking you to give him some lessons on what Ancient Egypt really is.”

Vivian chuckled. “Yeah, me. hosting a lecture in Arkham Asylum.” He smiled but it wasn’t the same smile he usually has. “What’s wrong?”

“Tut’s now apprehended, but social services are having trouble with disbanding the cult he built because technically they’re not doing anything wrong. Tut brainwashed them to have this belief, to worship him as some kind of god… there’s a teenage girl there who became a victim of his brainwashing and… her parents can’t do anything about it, so can’t social services.”

“Oh, god…” She couldn’t imagine what that girl’s parents were going through now.

“I came here because I was thinking if you had some kind of solution to heal this but… that would mean violating their minds. That's how it starts, the Batman would become judge, jury, and then a tyrant. I know how people see this symbol. I’m just one bad day away from becoming that.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because you care… you care for Gotham and those people. You want to help them – help everyone. Trust me, tyrants don’t. You want rehabilitation, they want results. And if are a tyrant in the making, you wouldn’t be here now.”

“Having coffee with an unlicensed therapist?” He smiled this time.

“Having coffee with a friend to reflect. Gotham doesn’t need a magical miracle, they need someone who cares.”

Batman placed his coffee on the mantle and approached Vivian. For the first time since they started their little meetings he removed his glove and brushed his fingers through her auburn hair. The hair that always reminded him of the fire bird that came to save him.

The light that lit that dark crypt.

She took his hand and let him touch her by resting her cheek against his palm. She won't break was what she wanted to tell him. She won't disappear. Knowing he found comfort, she lets her magic flow through her body and slowly envelops him in its warmth. Batman let out a hum of relief as he felt the warmth and leans down to press his forehead on hers, and then –

He kissed her. He kissed her deeply and held her tight. In his arms she felt like a twig he could break easily but Vivian Pryor has proven herself to be stronger than that. She was a pillar that remains standing through wars and storms. A pillar he leans on.

His hands went under her shirt and he caressed her skin there. Brushing his thumb over the tattoo which she told Bruce Wayne was a spell that her mother placed on her to protect her from dark entities. If only there was a spell that kept her safe from the criminals of Gotham.

God, this was wrong, he thought as he had her against the counter, their kisses becoming more fierce. So, wrong, yet he pulled off her shirt so he could kiss her more, at the place he knew. This was wrong. He knew it but Vivian had a way of erasing the line between him being Bruce Wayne and Batman. 

“We need to stop,” he said between kisses.

“I know,” she still kissed him.

“But I don't want to.”

“Neither do I.”

When his lips came to her neck, Bruce carried her to sit on the counter and settled between her legs to bring himself closer. She let out a moan that always boosted his ego –

“Bruce,” she moaned.

Hold on.

He wasn’t the only one that tensed at the name she said. Pulling away, Batman looked at her and he could see the look on her face. The mistake she made, but then that look changed to something that was of guilt.

“Bruce,” she began. “I know…”

“I don't –”

“Don't,” she reached for his cowl but Batman took her hand. “Don't do this… please.”

But for the first time, Batman fled rather than stay to fight. He disappeared from her, jumping from her balcony and into the city of Gotham.

Fuck, she messed up.

~*~

Vivian didn't hear from Bruce for a while, a month, actually. She tried calling him but he wouldn't answer. His absence was also noticed by the people in the campus and whispers started spreading about them breaking up and who broke up with who. They might as well be true since he just disappeared from her life. And for the one who broke up with her, it's a little vague really. 

This was why she couldn't find it in her to tell him. She knew he would run away and shut in within himself. 

If they were broken up, fine, but that doesn't mean she’ll stop caring. She would call Alfred to ask how they both were, mostly Bruce. The old man would give his appreciation for her checking in but he can't say for certain how his young master was. 

Another month passed and Vivian was now sure that he wasn't coming back. So much happened in those times, news even caught up with their break up and was posted on tabloids and online magazine websites and forerooms. Then there was the news of Bruce Wayne taking in a boy who lost his family because of an accident. But knowing Gotham, this wasn't an accident. This circus was visiting Gotham, and certain “security taxes” were expected. The circus was just not used to such bullying.

“So, he ghosts you and he adopts a kid. I'd say it's publicity. That way if you ever do one of those interviews he'd still be Gotham's golden boy,” Justin sneered at the paper that showed an article about Bruce Wayne taking in the boy.

“I – just drop it, Justin,” Vivian sighed as she threw the paper in his direction.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I can't. I got a class to teach,” Vivian gathered her things and made her way through the halls. She tried to ignore the glances the students and other colleagues would send her way – the looks of pity, judgment, then there were the whispering rumors. She hated that. She always thought Gotham University was her haven from all of that, a safe space for her to be in and be herself. Then again, she also thought Bruce was her safe space too. Him and Batman.

Arriving at her classroom, Vivian set up her laptop and the book she’ll be using for her reference – it was her own book, the university decided to use that as their reference for their syllabus as well. Well, she was also there when they made the syllabus too.

She tried to keep the class as it was, a mix of seriousness and lightness where they can speak out their ideas, laugh a bit, to be engaging but with the gossip going on about her personal life around campus – hell, around Gotham, no one was going to just act that she was alright. That nothing was happening.

Then, in the middle of her lecture he appeared. Standing at the very back, wearing his business suit. He wasn't alone, with him was the boy he took in, but the boy didn't wear a suit, he wore more casual clothes. The presence of Bruce caught everyone's attention and Vivian knew they wouldn't just act like this wasn't happening now. To save her students from the remaining twenty minutes of their class in an awkward situation, she gave them this time to work on their papers that were due by the end of the week, and she told them that they can find the resources they need in the university library and the gallery.

They knew what she meant and quickly gathered theri things, not caring if they shoved their laptops and books into their bags, unorganized, and ran out of the classroom to escape the awkward room. With them leaving, Bruce went down with the boy beside him. A couple of students still greeted him, the others made a look of ‘good luck, man’ before running out of the room.

Now alone, Vivian started, “I was in the middle of class. If there's something you need, you can approach me during my free time. Our schedules are posted on the board outside the faculty office.” Cold and distant. But mostly cold.

“I need to talk to you,” Bruce said.

“And it's so important that you can't wait after my class?”

“You'll just find a way to avoid me.”

“Speak for yourself,” she scoffed. But then her gaze went to the boy. She forgot about him, and she could see how awkward the situation was. “Is this…”

“Yes,” Bruce gestured for him to approach.

“I'm Dick,” the boy introduced himself.

Vivian smiled softly at his direction, to ease the tension for him. This was between her and Bruce, and the man just brought the boy here to be his, what? A shield? “Hi Dick, I'm Vivian. Normally, I'd offer something to eat or drink but we're not exactly in my apartment.”

Dick smiled but only for a moment. “I told him this might not be a good time. Are we disturbing you?”

“Nah, you just saved my students twenty more minutes and thirty more slides of Gotham's gargoyles,” she jests. “You got a visitor's pass, right?” She eyed the ID clipped on his shirt. “How about you run to the cafeteria and use this,” she gave him her food ticket. “And tell them Professor Pryor sent you on a food run. Get anything you want.”

Dick turned to Bruce and asked, “can I?”

Bruce nodded.

With that, Dick accepted the food ticket, thanked Vivian, and left the room. They waited for him to leave before Vivian asked,”how old is he?”

“Eleven,” Bruce answered. “His family were part of the circus – acrobats called the Flying Graysons. Someone cut the line in the middle of the act. They died upon impact.”

Another child traumatized and orphaned because of Gotham. Vivian let out a long breath. “I'm so sorry… I read that you took him in.”

“For now. I can't leave him with social services. Despite the Wayne Foundation's works to improve the orphanages, it's still not a good place for him. I can't leave him there.”

Vivian sat on her table. “He seems comfortable with you.”

“That's why I came here. Why I needed to see you. Social services are coming this afternoon, and I don't know. I know it's insensitive of me to suddenly come to you for help after I… after I left that night and…”

“Using a term from my students, ghosted me for months,” she added.

“Yes, and I am sorry about that Vivian. I really am. I just didn't know how to deal with it. Usually I have a plan but with you… my mind's blank. I keep forgetting who I am, what mask I'm wearing. The lines are blurred when I'm with you. I guess you took me by surprise and it scared me when I had nothing. No backup plan. No explanation. No idea that you would find out.”

“It doesn't take a detective to figure it out,” Vivian mocked. “Well, I did get a chance to have an intimate look with you, the both of you, to find out. And no, I didn't use magic to find out.”

“When did you find out?”

She took a breath. “I had my suspicions after you visited me in the hospital, after the cult leader wanted to bathe in my blood incident… then you took me out on dates, and our friend would come to my balcony frequently. I did sleep with you, Bruce, I'd know that jawline anywhere,” this time they laughed. “And I noticed whenever you just disappeared or canceled plans, he would come out… then there was the fight we had about the gun you found in my purse.”

They both frowned at that memory. The heated argument they had because she had a gun with her, and despite her telling him it was only for self-defense and a warning shot, he was livid. She thought that their relationship would end then and there, but it didn't. She got rid of the gun, sold it back to the place she bought it from, but she kept her firearm license. Out of respect for the man she loved. 

When she told him that she got rid of it, Bruce apologized for the outburst. Turns out he got a long lecture from Alfred. The old butler made him understand that, while he was a hulking man with the muscle to take down criminals, Vivian was a defenseless woman who needed a tool to keep herself safe. And that was what a gun was. A tool. 

“The gun was not what killed Martha and Thomas,” Alfred told him. “It was the man who held it… do you think Professor Pryor can do such a thing?”

As a replacement to the gun, Bruce got her a taser, one that was strong enough to knock out an elephant. Better than a gun, and better that she had something to keep herself safe.

“But really. I just know you, Bruce,” Vivian shrugged. “And I am sorry if I didn't tell you sooner, I was just afraid that you would leave because I knew. And you did.”

Bruce approached her, caging her at her table as he had both hands leaning on the table. “I'm sorry, Vivian,” he said, his face close to hers. “I won't lie. The thought of you knowing scared me, not because you'd tell anyone but because… what if someone found out about you? That you're close with the Batman. That you mean something to him… I don't know if I can bear it if you got hurt because of me.”

“You keep forgetting,” she pressed her forehead on his and let her magic coat them. This was the first time she ever did that for Bruce. Bruce let out a sound of relief as he felt her warmth. “I may not have your fancy gadgets but I got this.”

“You're out of practice.”

“Why do you think I'm practicing now?” She smiled. So did he. “So, what now Bruce?”

Bruce pulled away to look her in the eye as he explained, “I couldn't believe it, but when I took in Dick, I realized something… I took him in to protect him from any retaliation from Zuko, he's an eye witness, they will come back… If I can do that for him, then how is it different with you? You knowing about my two lives will put you at risk but then again, you got this,” he took her hand.

“Get to the point, Bruce,” she teased.

“I don't want what we had to end. Meeting you was the first time I felt alive for a long time… Bruce Wayne died in that alley with his parents but with you, you're bringing him back alive. You're showing him that he can still live. And I want that.”

Vivian held both his hands. “I'm still angry with you, but for the sake of my students who are somehow affected with the state of my lovelife, alright. I'll give this a try again.” She had a teasing grin on her lips, one that he wanted to kiss. “But what about Dick? You came here for advice on him and we just talked about ourselves.”

“After that talk, I think I know now what I'll do,” Bruce told her.

“He's comfortable with you, Bruce. And I think the company would do you good.”

“You were the company I was thinking of, actually. But are you okay with this? This means you're dating someone with a kid. I understand if you're not comfortable with it, and I'll accept if you don't want to but I hope we stay friends –”

Vivian pulled him to a deep kiss to stop him. He was just like her. An overthinker. 

As if their months apart never happened, they were back in sync with their kisses and how he held her. But this time, there was no more distinction between Bruce and Batman. He was both Batman and Bruce Wayne. He can be both Batman and Bruce Wayne with Vivian.

Just as she can be Professor Pryor and the broken magician with him.

The sound of a squeal broke their intimate kiss, and turning to the door they saw a couple of students and Vivian's colleagues who were spying at them through the glass. Vivian rolled her eyes at them and had them leave. She'll deal with them later. 

“It won't be long until news of this will reach the press. One of my students is Gotham Gazette's Editor's son,” Vivian said as she got off the table, to Bruce's disappointment and started packing her things.

“Good. That would let them know that you're taken.”

Taking his hand with one hand and the other her things, Vivian said, “Come on, your boy's waiting out there. Let's have lunch, the three of us.”

“That sounds like a great idea. I haven't eaten in the cafeteria here for a long time now.”

Walking down the hall, arm in arm, Vivian and Bruce ignored the stares and giggles that followed them, and some glares from those who hoped for their breakup. As they reached the cafeteria, they found Dick sitting at a table, alone, eating pizza. 

“You both done?” Dick asked Bruce. “Are we leaving now?”

“Let's have lunch here,” Bruce said as he settled down across from him with Vivian beside him.

“But what about the social services lady? She'll drop by the manor in an hour.”

“I'm sure Alfred can stall her. Tell her that we went out for some lunch… so I can also introduce you to my girlfriend, Vivian, since you'll be seeing more of her in the manor.”

Dick's brows shot up in shock. “You're not letting them take me?”

“No. From now on Wayne Manor is your home. And, I know that what you’re going through is hard but we'll get through it. I'll be here to help you.”

For the first time, Dick smiled. His smile didn't reach his ears but it was a smile that showed hope. No one can ever replace the family he lost, but this was a chance to be part of something again. To not be alone. To heal.

Turning to Vivian, Dick said, “Will you be staying at the manor too?”

Vivian stuttered and she glanced at Bruce. They just got back together again, it was too soon, right?

“I'll drop by. Spend a few nights there,” Vivian told him. “I can only imagine how it is to live with old men who eat hamburgers with a knife and a fork.”

“You're not going to stop bringing that up, aren't you?” Bruce sighed.

“No, not ever,” she laughed. “While you and Alfred have your afternoon naps, Dick and I are gonna have fun.”

“Alfred doesn't nap in the afternoon, but he would try to entertain me with something called gentlemanly etiquette. It's pretty boring.”

“Pro tip, ask Alfred about his time at service, he's got loads of interesting stories. That'll get you out of those.”

This time, Dick's smile grew. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

As Vivian and Dick talked, Bruce couldn't help but get lost as he watched them. It seems Vivian wasn't just his pillar but she also gives people hope. A chance to be alive again after such tragedies. A phoenix that helps people be reborn from their dying state.

Vivian said to him that Batman symbolizes Gotham City to her, and she told him that night that Gotham City was her home. If that's the case then he'll keep fighting and he won't stop believing in this city so it can still be her home. 

And while he fights for her home, she'll be there. The fire bird that saved him from Deacon Blackfire's people in the crypts. The phoenix that’s helping him out of the pit he's been stuck in for so long that he starts to see it as his home.

She'll be his salvation.

[xoxitgirl]

˚⊹₊ ⋆ updated manifestation routine ₊˚｡

2024 it-girl manifesto

hi all! so my last manifestation routine I feel like I missed a lot + have a new mindset now so I’m going to break it down in a better way lol. a lot of my mindset has been developed through esoteric philosophy, teachings of neville goddard, and edward art.

the foundation—

so this is what i base my thought process on, everything is mental. this is literally the first principle I learned of esoteric philosophy—mentalism. the mind has effects over all; mentally, spiritually, and physically. for anything to be/exist it has to come from the mind, this is also considered the “law of self” or the “law of one.” since our minds literally can’t comprehend what is imagined to be experienced vs what we’ve actually lived through, we can literally change ANYTHING through consciously shifting our awareness. some things may be viewed as “harder” or “more difficult” but in essence its the same exact process every time. and I only mean like conscious manifestation and not like past events/trauma.

rule one: find what works for you and practice consistency.

rule two: if you have it in your mind, it is already yours. feel it, touch it, smell it, embrace it. use your senses.

rule three: what is inside of you is outside of you—let it reflect without desperation, fear, or pressure.

intention comes first

if you lead with no direction where will you go? being able to understand what it is you want is a necessity to me when it comes to manifestation. I like to think of it as a mini ritual; writing or deciding your intention and then diving into the mindset revamp and everything else in store.

journaling, journaling, and more journaling

I journal literally everything in every style—meaning; when I start journaling I write short paragraphs expressing gratitude for my current manifestations. for more in depth desires, I will write pages about the experience of getting my desire, the feelings I felt, the people involved, the setting, etc. similar to gratitude letters, I just write gratitude vaunts. when I’m not vaunting I’m setting goals. goals can easily help us understand what we want and what we can do in the meantime to feel like we have it. I also journal sporadically, I read through all the things i’ve manifested through a couple months—for some reason this works insanely well for me.

state akin to sleep

SATS or state akin to sleep is basically being completely relaxed/in a drowsy state and envisioning your desire so its like you’re falling asleep in the wish fulfilled. this is useful because when you’re in this state, your mind is more accepting and receptive of your desires. neville breaks this idea down in depth but in short, there will be less opposition because you experience having your desire in this state and as I love saying; as above so below. as you continue this method the mental and physical planes will align.

subliminals + affirmation tapes

I always binge listen to subs for around a week to a month and then stop for at least 2 weeks minimum. idk why i just don’t like repetitive tasks but this way of sporadic listening has always helped me manifest better because I allow my manifestation to come to me. especially if it’s something I think is more of a material manifestation like a new car—I made a car sub and stopped listening after like 3 months of constant listening and my dad told me to clean out my car for my dream car.. like let it come to you babes.

detaching!!!

in my mind detaching is equally as important as intention. if you’re obsessing over something its more likely you’ll focus on the lack in the 3d instead of the abundance you have in the 4d. I force myself to not worry about my sp, put my phone down when I’m worried ab sales, and just relax because what is mine will always be mine. ways to detach… going on walks, drawing, focusing on hobbies, working out, yoga, listening to music, hanging out with friends or family, going for a drive, literally anything that brings you back to center and allows you to stop thinking excessively about your desire.

affirming 24/7

im always asking and telling myself how I would think as my most desirable self. when i’m worried about the weather, my designs, if my dates will go the way i want, or if my packages will arrive on time I affirm immediately, “the weather is always so amazing. I love driving in my area’s calm, nice weather. everybody always loves my designs, why wouldn’t they? I’m literally one of the most famous designers in the world. I always have picturesque fairytale like dates with my SP because he loves me and wouldn’t let me settle for less tff” and like its been mentioned before, we have thousandss of thought a day so a negative thought literally cant hurt you or your manifestation but affirming can be extremely helpful for those with anxiety or intrusive thoughts imo.

manifestation lists

i write a list of everything I’ve manifested every month to remind myself of my power. at times ill even throw in a few things that I am wanting at the moment to remind myself it’s already mine. every time I manifest consciously I scroll through the list just as like a confidence booster I guess.

visualizing + vision boards

im constantly visualizing what I want in my present. literally money in my hands, my new computer in front of me—visualize, visualize, visualize. thats definitely a really big part of my routine, also making vision boards and having them on my phone, on my walls, etc. using apps to make it more convenient like vsco, pinterest, notion.

sigils

making sigils helps me kinda detach too! this is definitely not a necessity, I only remake my sigils every year or when I feel uneasy about something. over time i’ve noticed that with ones i’ve used for safety/peace, I have to actively choose which energy to embody. nobody will come into my space causing me to be in a stressful mood unless I allow it—imo it helps a lot with conscious creation.

challenges + rules

I make a lot of challenges that I do privately and every time I stop/revert to thinking about the 3d I have to restart. I always give myself repercussions for feeding into a lack mindset because why would I do that when I live a life of abundance? im not like hard on myself or anything its just about maintaining the idea until it saturates. I also use like 10-20 manifestation rules that I have and follow on a daily basis, I would also recommend making your own list of rules because if you don’t have a standard to follow its harder to stay focused. some of mine are—

ᥫ᭡ everything I desire manifests the second I desire it.

ᥫ᭡ I manifest anything I want instantly.

ᥫ᭡ only my desired thoughts manifest.

ᥫ᭡ nothing can stop me from getting what I want.

ᥫ᭡ the 3D changes instantly for me.

ᥫ᭡ I have such potent undeniable incredible power.

ᥫ᭡ I always manifest what I want on the spot.

as above so below, as within so without.

itgirl ⊹ ࣪ ˖

[everythingannoyingpjo]

I really dislike how Rick wrote Aphrodite and her cabin, they have so much potential in battle but Rick barely ever uses it. They’re usually just portrayed as shallow and vain unless the narrative calls for one of them not to be like Piper and Silena

The really big problem with the Aphrodite cabin, in my opinion, is that Rick is more a "tell" author than a "show" author.

He tells the reader what there opinion is supposed to be. He tells the reader who a character is instead of showing it through their actions. This isn't inherently bad, especially in a book written for a young audience. However, this becomes really problematic when the PoV character says something negative about someone or some group of people. Especially when that group or person is rarely featured in the actual narrative.

Percy and Annabeth frequently make disparaging remarks about the Aphrodite cabin and they never explain why. If you're inclined to think the best of people until given a reason not to this is going to be irritating. It irritated me. And it becomes more irritating when we are given reason to believe the things we are being told are untrue.

The only character we know anything about from the Aphrodite cabin is Silena (in the original series), so let's take a look at what we know about her.

Silena is beautiful.

Silena cares for the camp's Pegasii. (She is the one who teaches Percy how to ride them.)

Silena has some knowledge of magic. (Comes up when Morpheus puts New York to sleep.)

Silena does not hide her emotions. (Grief, anger, joy, she is shown to express all of them freely.)

Silena loves Charles Beckendorf. (She gives Kronos information about Camp after being told doing so would protect him among others.)

Silena gives relationship advice. (To Clarisse specifically, to Annabeth though it's only implied.)

Silena has pink armor.

Silena does not get along with the Hunter's of Artemis. (One of the few times she is eager to participate in capture the flag.)

Silena can charmspeak. (Stated in HoO. Never shown to use it.)

Silena does not like the tradition of breaking the heart of your first love. (Stated in TLH)

What conclusions can we draw about Silena from these details?

Silena cares about others, or at least about their relationships. Her reluctance to break hearts and her dislike of the Hunter's suggests she loves love. :) She cares for animals, or at least Pegasii. The pink armor suggests she has a very specific style and is likely interested in fashion. She cares most about people's survival and, unfortunately, this causes her to be easily mislead.

We are told multiple times in the first series that the Aphrodite cabin cares only about their looks, valuing them above their combat skills. The implication is that they care about their looks more than they do about protecting their camp or even their lives. But nothing about Silena's behavior suggests this is true.

She does care about her looks, but not above protecting others. Helping others in fact seems to be one of her primary motivations. She does not seem to typically enjoy capture the flag, but I don't think someone who doesn't value combat or understand it's necessity would go through the trouble of customizing their entire armor set. Her knowledge of magic suggests she has some experience fighting against magic users or has spent time studying or practicing magic as well.

We are told the Aphrodite cabin is weak, but never given cause to believe it. We are told they are vain, but never shown this to be true either. We could assume that Percy and Annabeth's negative opinions are just that, assumptions based on hersey and rumor. Except that we are almost never given any reason to doubt either Percy or Annabeth's opinions unless their beliefs are in direct opposition to each other. Instead we are left feeling frustrated and confused because the information we are given doesn't match up with what actually happens. It's really stupid.

There's so much more to say about this topic, but I'll leave it there (for now). Needless to say, I agree.

[nonoel-28]

So I have lately been thinking about SanNami future kids non-stop all night, and just wanted to share what I thought of so far. Forewarning, this is gonna be somewhat long 😅

Okay, first off, I picture Sanji and Nami having 5 kids (I love big families, sue me). Sanji teaches all of his kids the basics of Black Leg Style, but ultimately lets them decide what fighting style they want to learn. All 5 of their kids adore Luffy. Also, most of these are the basic, bare bone of ideas. So with that in mind lets get started.

The Oldest- Mika

Mika is a girl who is a spitting image of her mother, Nami, with the orange/red hair and brown eyes. The only physical trait she got from Sanji is the curly eyebrows.

Her birthday is March 6th.

One of her hobbies is cross-stitching and studying all of Nami's maps.

Mika likes to sunbathe with Nami.

She is extroverted. And an incorrigible flirt.

Mika's favorite Strawhat (besides SanNami and Luffy) is Zoro.

Whe she was 4, she told Zoro that when she grows up, she was going to marry him. XD

Zoro forever rubs that in Sanji's face, and Sanji doesn't know where he went wrong. Nami finds it hilarious.

She has a scar over the curly part of her right eyebrow, making it look like she has only one curly eyebrow. She got it runnng with a knife.

She thinks it looks awesome because know she looks just like Uncle Zoro.

Mika is training under Zoro in swordsmanship, although she prefers dual swords.

Mika's favorite spot on the Sunny is in the mast, traing with Zoro.

The 2nd Oldest- Sora

Sora is a boy who has blonde hair and green eyes. He has a beauty mark on the corner of his left eye. He also has curly eyebrows.

Sanji and Nami were confused on the where the green eyes came from at first, but then Nami realized that it must have been something Sora got from one of Nami's biological parents.

His birthday is November 28th.

One of his hobbies is baking.

He is introverted. Shy.

Sora's favorite Strawhat (besides SanNami and Luffy) is Chopper.

Sora likes having Chopper taste test his desserts he bakes with Sanji.

Sora is training under Chopper to become a doctor.

Because of that, Sora uses Black Leg fighting style and upholds Sanji's ideal of never using his hands in a fight, because Sora's hands are meant for healing.

Out of all the siblings, Sora is the best at Black Leg Style.

Sora's favorite spot on the Sunny is Nami's office. He studies his medical books their while Nami works on her maps.

The Twins- Genzo and Zeff

Genzo and Zeff are identical twins with orange/red hair and blue eyes. The only way to tell them apart is their curly eyebrows, they curl in opposite directions (Genzo curls like Reiju's and Zeff's curl like Sanji's).

Their birthday is July 26th.

They are both extroverted.

They are quite the ladies men.

Genzo's favorite Strawhat (besides SanNami and Luffy) is Franky, and Zeff's is Usopp.

One of Genzo's hobbies is building stuff with Franky and Usopp, and Zeff's is playing the guitar. They both like to cook.

One of Genzo's flaw is that he will do any and all dares.

It how he got his devil fruit power, an ability to freezes objects and people with a stare (not like actual ice freeze, more like whem you play freeze tag frozen... if that makes sense 😅)

Zeff dared him to eat the "rotten fruit" they found while exploring a new island.

Zeff is a bit manipulative like Nami.

Genzo fighting style is also Black Leg Style, but with weapons, curtesy of Franky. He has some weaponized greaves as well as rocket boots for that extra pow in his kicks.

He likes to freeze enemies just seconds before he kicks them in the face.

Zeff learned how to fight with a Bo staff like Nami. He also very good at strategic planning.

They never get tired of Brook's skull jokes.

They like taking naps under Nami's mikan trees. It's their favorits spot on the Sunny.

The Youngest- Belle-mère

Belle-mère is the youngest girl. She has blonde hair and blue eyes. She strongly resembles Sanji's mother. She is the only SanNami kid to not have curly eyebrows.

Her birthday is September 23rd.

Some of her hobbies are playing chess and helping Sanji in the kitchen.

She is an introvert, but not nearly as much as Sora.

Belle-mère's favorite Strawhat (besides SanNami and Luffy) is Robin.

Bell-mère loves having teaparties with Robin, Brook, and Jinbei.

Jimbei is training Belle-mère in Fishman Karate.

Her favorite spot on the Sunny is in the kitchen with Sanji.

If you made it to the end of this, thanks for sticking around to read my rambles. Alot of this wasn't really thought through, for the majority of them I just wrote down the first thing that popped into my head. If I ever decide to expand more on this, I will definitely put more thought and care into each of SanNami Eggplants, so things are bound to change a bit from what I have here, but for now I'm happy with it and I hope you guys enjoyed it as well. :)