#that soul-crushing feeling when you want to do something substantial for people that are suffering

[burger-goblin]

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[americanopouroverplease]

Sweat It Out: Chapter One

Seokjin X Reader

Word Count; 5,604

Potential Warnings: Blatantly poor use of French terminology, genuinely bad choice in nicknames, Seokjin making terrible dad jokes at the gym, scene stealing jungkook wearing muscle shirts & generally being an adorable muscle bun. 

Thank you to @ksmuttherapy​ & @shadowsremedy​ for beta reading for me!

Please Note! -- Reader in this story is plus sized! As such, certain descriptors will be used and if this detracts from the story for you then I hope you are able to find something else that rocks your frock! 

If pain had a soundtrack you were certain it would be the incessantly upbeat elevator music blaring through the speakers as you grunted and suffered your way through yet another sweat soaked set of heaving sumo squats. Your thighs were spread wide for all the wrong reasons as the lycra blend of your leggings were being stretched to their absolute limit. The grimace pulling at your lips was inherently reminiscent of the principal from Matilda and you were absolutely sure that in this very moment she was prettier than you.

“Dig deep! 10 more!” The trainer was already getting on your nerves with his ridiculous abs and insanely thick biceps. He was getting paid to stand off in the corner of the room while you wheezed and wailed like a dying animal. There wasn’t a single drop of sweat on his perfect skin while you groaned, dropping your weight low only to huff with the effort of lifting your substantial bulk upward once more. “Don’t let yourself down! You’re almost done!”

“How is this legal?” The screech escaped you before you could even think to stop yourself. Of course the only response your trainer gave was a low chuckle as he crossed his arms over that absurdly large chest of his. 

“It’s legal because you pay him.” One of your fellow suffering souls offered as he too continued your joint endeavor in self inflicted torture. “Look at him, he feeds off this.” 

“If you have time to complain you have time to do single leg lunges!” If you weren’t so preoccupied with the burning pain consuming your hamstrings and the complete lack of stamina you’ve built up over your years of working a desk job and eating cinnamon rolls you would fire off your best shots at the trainer. Instead, you settled for fantasizing about using your thighs to crush his big gym rat skull. 

“Don’t listen to him.” Your agonized counterpart called out. “It’ll only make this worse in the long run.” In between each lunge you chanced a glance away from the trainer and over to your new partner in complaint. His cheeks were full, but his lips were even more generous as he pursed and let out huge puffs of agonized breath. He didn’t seem to be out of shape at all, which made you hesitate in appreciating his finer attributes. The muscles filling out his sweat-soaked t-shirt were clearly defined, but what really took your breath away (besides all these squats and lunges) was the fact that his shoulders would obviously enter any room before the rest of him did. Was he even real? Or were you just swept up in an endorphin and exercise fueled haze of fantasy?

“3...2...1!” The trainer’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts only to force you to realize that this entire time you’d been staring at the broad shouldered giant flexing his thighs almost directly in front of you. If your face wasn’t already beet red from exercise the mortification and sheer embarrassment would do it for you. “That’s time!” 

You ran your own business, you were strong and independent. You sank down to the floor, sprawled out, and shut your eyes as you pretended to catch your breath in an attempt to avoid making any potential eye contact with the currently sweaty, also currently gorgeous and far too athletic man for your own good. You were a smart woman who knew how to pick and choose her own battles. 

“I regret everything.” The wheezing prattle sounded just beside you, surprising enough to be the perfect catalyst in opening your eyes. “I blame myself. I can’t stop eating, food is an addiction and there is no cure.” Shoulders was flopped on the floor right next to you in all your sticky, sweaty, stinky glory. He didn’t seem phased by your appearance in the least. 

“You should regret everything, hyung. How did you eat seven lobsters anyway?” The trainer, at some point, moved to join the two of you on the floor. “I thought you were going to make yourself sick.” 

“You know each other?” You were sitting up now, curiosity flaring as you shifted around and began to stretch. Truth be told, you hated every aspect of stretching, but if you didn’t the muscle ache would be that much worse tomorrow. 

“We’re related.” Your trainer smiled, big bunny teeth on display as he watched you push yourself forward and reach toward your toes. “That’s a great stretch, you can also lay flat, then draw one leg up toward your chest and rock. It’s really good for your back and spine.” 

“Cousins, and how do you even have the energy to move right now?” The breathtaking man was still pressed to the floor, cheeks puffed out as his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. “Jungkook if I weren’t already dead I would kill you for this.” 

“You’ll thank me when you’re old and don’t have type 2 diabetes.” Jungkook grinned, “Y/N, the lump on the floor is my cousin, Jin. I’m currently trying to save him from himself.” 

“This face will still be handsome even if it has diabetes.” Jin retorted, then dragged himself up from the floor just enough to face you with a smile. “I’m worldwide handsome, but I do answer to Seokjin.” He lifted his hand, only to blow you a kiss and wink. What were you supposed to say to that? 

“I see.” Was he used to people staring at him? He didn’t seem surprised or offended when you openly admired his body. He couldn’t be a model if he routinely ate as much as Jungkook implied. The only thought that sprang up from this conclusion was a lurid amount of jealousy over his apparent metabolism. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Hyung! She didn’t even blush!” Jungkook wasn’t rolling on the floor with laughter but he was obviously amused by your lack of reaction to Jin’s flirting. He had one hand clasped on his cousin’s shoulder as he leaned exceptionally close to the man’s sweaty face. 

“I only have two options now.” Jin responded with an air of solemnity. His eyes were hooded, expression far too serious for a gym floor as he shifted his weight closer to your form. “I’m going to give you my greatest joke, and if that doesn’t work I’m going to beg you to let me take you out on a date.” 

“Excuse me?” You felt stunned, not only because the subject matter seemed so scattered but had this man actually just casually asked you out after seeing you at your worst? It was 7 pm on a Wednesday night just after you spent the past forty-five minutes heaving your weight back and forth in an attempt to convince your metabolism to decide it was finally okay for you to go from a generous 2X to a reasonable medium or large size pant.

“What do runners eat before a sprint?” You blinked once, twice, and then realized he actually expected you to give him an answer. When your glance shifted toward Jungkook the overgrown muscle simply shrugged his shoulders and grinned. 

“If I say that I don’t know, can we move on?” You pressed gently, not wanting to be rude, but also feeling a little out of your depth. You were well aware that your body type was not considered conventionally attractive. It felt suspicious to have the seemingly undivided attention of someone who could snag any woman or man he wanted with his looks alone. No one flirted with you unless they had a fat fetish, and you always steered clear of those types. 

“Nothing, they fast!” The joke was terrible, but the laughter that followed was even worse. You could only describe the sound escaping Jin’s throat as something eerily similar to windshield wipers scraping along the glass. It took a full minute of you staring at him with wide eyes for the laughter to subside. 

“She didn’t laugh hyung.” Jungkook was still grinning wide, leaving the rest of Jin’s previous declaration unspoken. 

“Do I need to beg, Y/N?” Instantly all signs of humor were gone; replaced by soulful eyes fixed directly upon your face. Jin shifted and knelt in front of you, his palms pressed together as he appeared to be carefully hopeful. “I will.” 

“For what?” You hedged, feeling confused at best, and uncomfortable at worst. You had signed up for this exercise class in order to try and lose weight, to build up your confidence. Nowhere in the gym agreement was there a clause including fit men who seemed out of your league flirting with you and asking you out on dates you weren’t ready for. Was he serious? 

“Please, Y/N, will you let me take you out for a nice dinner and delightful conversation?” 

“Where and when?” As entertaining as it felt to watch a man kneel and beg for your time and attention there was no helping the wariness you felt. Prior experience was a masterful teacher and you weren’t interested in being the butt of anyone’s joke.

“I wouldn’t dream of making your decisions for you.” Jin readily replied, his cheeks full and round as he smiled widely. “I’ll let you choose, anything you want.” 

“Anything?” You sounded skeptical, and didn’t bother trying to hide it as you crossed your arms beneath your breasts and stared at the man before you. He nodded, almost eagerly. 

“Any restaurant you want, I promise I’ll find something I like to eat. Food is a passion of mine.” You heard Jungkook snort beside you, but chose to ignore him in favor of coming up with the most expensive restaurant you could think of. 

“Fine. Take me to Le lapin blanc.” You didn’t feel nearly as calm and collected as you sounded, but he didn’t need to know that. All he needed to know was that he had to shell out serious money to prove his interest. 

“Perfect, does tomorrow work for you?” Shock registered, and then disbelief. Le lapin blanc was the most expensive and exclusive restaurant in town. There was no getting into the building without a reservation, and you couldn’t just get one overnight. 

“If you can get us in, sure.” You agreed, immediately convinced this was all a joke and you would be canceling your gym membership by the end of the week. 

“Perfect, would you like me to pick you up at seven?” He had to play the part until the end, you supposed. With a quick nod, you assumed the conversation would be over and moved to push yourself up from the floor. “Y/N, do you happen to have your phone with you?” That question caught you off guard. 

“Yes, why?” 

“I’d like to give you my phone number so that I can contact you.” Jin responded affably. “How else will I find out where to pick you up?” Ah. Right. With a little bit of reluctance you fished your cell phone from your pocket and handed the device to him. He smiled once more, patiently waiting for you to unlock it before pulling up your contact list and adding himself to it. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You took your phone back once he was done, then gave him a grin of your own. “I don’t split the bill, you’re paying.” Jungkook’s snort was no more elegant than the first upon hearing this and the chortle that followed actually came from Jin. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, beautiful.” 

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You finished work at four the next day, which left you with entirely too much time on your hands when it came to getting ready for this date. What should you wear to an expensive restaurant that had napkins that could cost more than your net worth? You decided to go with one of your favorite thrift store finds that fit tightly beneath your breasts and flared out further down your stomach. A girl’s best friend was always a nice empire waistline...Unless it made her look pregnant. 

The cap sleeves looked almost demure, which you appreciated since it was the middle of summer and you were not about to suffocate stuffed into a dress with full length sleeves or a high neckline. Makeup wasn’t minimal, but you also didn’t waste any time lining your eyes when all that would do for you was make you look like an actual trash panda once ten pm rolled around. Instead, you focused on your hair and took the time to style it and smooth out any stray ends or hairs. 

The chime of your text tone echoed from your living room, drawing you away from fiddling any further with the upswept style of your hair.

Did he really send you a picture of himself with a cut out heart? What sort of man was this? When Jin asked you out the night before all you felt was suspicion. Now you were convinced he was simply missing at least sixteen of the screws required for his mental clarity to function. You neglected to respond to his text, and elected to grab your purse before locking the door to your apartment behind you. 

Were you waiting for him outside? Yes. If you were fair to yourself, which you always strove to be; being early was on time and being on time was considering yourself late. You weren’t looking forward to this dinner, sitting across a table of refined food from a man who was so good looking you felt just a little bit stupid. No, you were just being punctual. Right?

Then again, Jin might not show up at all, even if he did send you that ridiculous text message assuring you that he was already on his way. Assuming that he wouldn’t, you could give it another ten minutes before you went back inside, changed into your favorite pajamas, and settled in for a nice long night of playing Stardew Valley. 

Unfortunately all your bucolic hopes and  8-bit dreams were dashed as soon as you saw the cherry red convertible pulling up to your lot. Of course, by this point in your evening you shouldn’t have been surprised that the exceedingly symmetrical Disney prince look-alike also had an expensive car. If he wasn’t even phased by the idea of shelling out for ‘the aesthetic’ it made sense that he would also like to drive fast and live rich. 

“Y/N!” The vehicle rolled to a stop, idling as its driver made a quick leap from the front seat just to sweep you up in long arms. You felt the ground disappear from beneath your feet and questioned reality as you gripped broad shoulders so tightly your knuckles turned white. The world spun around you slowly, not fast enough to make you dizzy but noticeable to the point that you didn’t know how you felt about being picked up in the first place. 

“Jin, it’s nice to see you again.” You smiled, surprised to realize just how happy you were he did take the time to show up. If nothing else he hadn’t stood you up, and he was so very fun to look at that all you wanted to do was indulge yourself for one night. Especially if that singular night meant ritzy food that you couldn’t actually pronounce on your own. 

“You mean it’s wonderful, stunning, amazing, and spectacular to see me again? That’s how I feel about seeing you.” His hands were still settled against your waist, but they were oh so gentle as he set your feet back on the ground. “I was thinking about you all day.” 

“That sounds exhausting.” You teased, drawn in by the easy humor he still displayed even after your repeated attempts at dissuading him from showing any interest. 

“Not at all, I find every thought of you to be invigorating.” Jin replied sweetly, his soft lips pressed flush to your rounded cheek before he led you straight toward the convertible. “It isn’t every day that I get a chance to see a woman’s thighs in action without being called a pervert.” The joke should have fallen flat, but it didn’t. You were caught off guard as you settled back into the seat and reached for the seatbelt. 

“You must have a great poker face if you’re a pervert.” That earned you nothing more than a good natured snort as he pulled away from your apartment complex. The drive itself was short, barely taking more than ten minutes. Altogether, he tried to hold your hand no less than six times. Once the convertible finally pulled into the parking garage you managed to successfully evade his grasping fingers for no reason other than the exasperated and melodramatic wails that filtered past his full lips. 

“You’re a heartless woman, Y/N! How can you say no to this face?” The door was already shut behind Jin, and before you could even begin to unbuckle your seatbelt the door to the passenger side was open while your suitor took the time to free you from his vehicle. You found yourself a mere breath away from his face and suddenly realized why every single romance novel was exactly as cheesy as it was. 

“Impress me enough and I won’t say no.” You whispered, eyes wide and fixed upon the chocolate and nutmeg brown irises that threatened to overwhelm you. Temptation washed over you, begging you to let your eyes drift downward toward the plump lips curving upward into a knowing smile. Instead, you pulled away and began that short walk toward the seating area. 

“Is that a challenge, butterbean?” 

“What sort of nickname is that?” You asked, absolutely appalled by the concept of being a butter bean, much less any one specific person’s butter bean. 

“My pet name. For you, so long as you’ll let me have it.” Jin purred, his large palm pressing gently and warmly against your lower back as he maneuvered you through the slowly gathering crowd of the early evening diners. If he noticed the shiver his touch sent down your spine he chose not to mention it. 

You chose to say nothing as the waitress led you toward a table at the far end of the highest floor. The further you followed the more you questioned just how Jin was able to get this type of reservation on such short notice. The entire restaurant was usually booked out months in advance, and the most exclusive of tables were on the top two floors. By the time you realized you were going -above- the top floor and out onto the roof you felt speechless. 

“Right this way, if you please.” The waitress spoke with a heavy accent, one arm out swept toward an enclosed pavilion that reminded you more of a greenhouse than anything else. Fairy lights were strung across the ceiling in a rambling sort of pattern that draped gracefully around the countless flowers filling the room. There was a walkway, but it was surrounded by flowing water with only one bridge that could lead you over the threshold. 

“Jin. How?” You were too busy admiring the lush atmosphere, the live quartet playing soft music in the far corner, the sound of the fountain as it burbled and pushed the water through the avenues threaded through the walkway and flowers. The lights, the scents, everything was just this side of too much decadence and opulence. It was perfect. 

“Would you believe me if I said I have a few connections?” Jin asked with raised eyebrows. Eventually a table was revealed toward the center of what appeared to be a man made island in a glittering lagoon. 

“Well, tell me how to make these connections because this is the manner in which I wish to become accustomed.” You joked, eyes focused on the riot of Peruvian Lilies heaped upon one plate. It came as no surprise when Jin led you directly to the side of the table with the flowers, then proceeded to assist you in sitting down. 

“It was all sheer dumb luck, my sweet and precious butter bean.” Your eyelid twitched at the terrible name, but you refused to let it ruin what was otherwise a magnificent night. This restaurant was gorgeous, and you felt like a princess transported into a new and far away realm. The only thing that could make this better would be unlimited dessert. Did Jin have enough money to get you unlimited dessert?

“Would you like to start with a Château Margaux this evening?” The waitress was, apparently, not a waitress for she had all but disappeared and in her place was a seemingly young, also seemingly condescending man who held a bottle of wine over his arm as if it were the most dazzling thing to ever display. 

“I suppose that would be fine, Marcus. What else would you suggest?” Jin didn’t sound haughty, necessarily, but he did appear to be a little less concerned with the menu and more interested in staring into your eyes. A point that you promptly avoided by burying your own face in the menu full of letters and words you didn’t quite understand. 

“I wouldn’t dare dream of making recommendations to you, Sir.” The bottle of Margaux bobbled, ever so slightly. Jin let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh. 

“We’ll have the Pauillac, Château Mouton Rothschild.” Jin replied, his gaze still fixed upon your face as the original bottle vanished, only to be replaced nearly as quickly by the desired red. 

“Is the 2005 alright, Sir?” This was met with a nod while Jin’s long fingers slowly but surely wrapped around your own. His smile was for you, though he didn’t completely ignore the man. 

“Yes, that will be fine. Pre-fix menu, tonight?” A subtle negative shake of the head, and then a notepad was produced. “Butterbean, my darling, what would you like to have for dinner?” 

“If you insist on calling me butterbean it might just be your balls.” You simpered sweetly, smile entirely saccharine as you squeezed his hand as hard as you could. The resulting wince was delicate, though the wink he sent your way was playful. 

“It’s an absolute relief to know you aren’t a vegetarian.” His fingers flexed slightly once you released them before he picked up the menu once more. 

“Well, I could always eschew meat to spite you.” This suggestion was met with the exact amount of warmth and eagerness you expected. None. The menus were flung to one side of the table as you found your hands clasped in Jin’s fingers once again. 

“Butterbean, darling! My wonderful, beautiful, incandescent paragon of virtue!” Your eyes widened slowly but surely with every additional adjective piled onto his sentence. “Don’t break my heart! You’re too great a woman to do such a thing!” By the end of his plea your fingers were intertwined with his and his grasp was so firm that there was no escape. 

“We’ll have my usual.” Jin didn’t bother tearing his eyes away from your face, which was almost intimidating even as the waiter cleared the menus from the table. Your erstwhile suitor took this chance to drag his chair closer to yours. Now, instead of sitting across from this broad shouldered adonis, there was barely any space between the two of you. “This is much better, don’t you agree my bean?” 

“I will pay you real, actually money to stop calling me that.”  You let out between grit teeth. Contrary to your own expectations this man was getting under your skin in the best possible way. He was charming, goofy in a gregarious sort of way that put you at an amused disadvantage. 

“You couldn’t pay me enough. Ever.” He hadn’t let go of your hands yet, and merely leaned closer so he could press his face close to yours before performing an exaggerated imitation of a wink. You could feel the echo in your chest as your heart fluttered. Soft was beginning to become an understatement when it came to how you felt about this man. Was that even possible?

“You would force me to resort to blackmail?” Your lips turned downward, plumped into a pout as you failed to extract yourself from his warm grasp. 

“I wouldn’t dare to force you into anything.” Seokjin began proudly, his voice carrying as he straightened in his seat. “I am not above letting you ask me to force you though.” Your fingers flexed then, breath catching in your throat at the implication. 

“You couldn’t ask me what my favorite color is first?” You did your best to cover your response, though it was hard to tell if Jin was observant enough to catch your behavior. 

“I could ask you while you’re breathless and panting beneath me.” The offer came at the exact same time as your appetizers, which caused a distinct flush to warm your cheeks as the waiter set down two plates and multiple dishes. Wine was poured while your eyes drifted firmly to the table in front of you. None of this stopped you from feeling how direct and heated your date’s gaze was as he kept one hand cradled around yours. 

“That was blunt.” In all your years of living there wasn’t a single memory of any man wining, dining, and propositioning you so openly and with so much confidence. Then again, there wasn’t any point in which someone as handsome as Seokjin showed any interest in you either. History and experience was enough to tell you this wasn’t adding up. 

“You’ve seen me at my worst, bean. I can hardly look any worse so I feel my odds are pretty high for success.” Your hand suddenly felt cold as he plucked his knife up from the table and began buttering some bread. “I know exactly what I want from you. The question is, do you want anything from me?” 

You took your time considering this query. The table was filled with various food, most of which looked as if it wouldn’t fit into your calorie count for the day so you reached for the wine glass in front of your plate instead. 

“I hardly know you, I doubt I really know what you have to offer in the first-” You paused, eyes widened as you watched your date place little bits of each appetizer on your plate before he ever put a single piece of food on his. 

“Yes, my darling butter bean?” Jin’s eyes were wide, nearly sparkling as he smiled at you with all the charm and charisma of a seasoned politician. If he noticed your confusion he didn’t mention it. 

“Why did you put food on my plate?” Mortification set in quickly, your hands clasped in your lap beneath the table as you internally questioned every life choice you ever made. Was it just Jin that caused you to ask stupid questions? Or was it the atmosphere? 

“It gives me pleasure to do so.” His response was entirely effortless, his attention focused on piling his plate just as high as yours before commencing with a truly astounding performance. His mouth didn’t seem all that big, but somehow he managed to take bites of food that were so large you worried he was intentionally choking himself. The noises that escaped him were an uneven mixture of pornographic and cute. Perhaps you didn’t need to feel embarrassed after all. 

“Okay then.” You began to let yourself relax, hoping that tonight’s meal wouldn’t set your goals back too far. Besides, cheat meals were acceptable every now and then, weren’t they?

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“I know it’s cliche but I had a wonderful evening.” Jin’s car was parked in the lot next to your apartment building, his shoulder pressed into the driver’s seat as he leaned further toward your space. “I’m hoping desperately that you’ll allow me to bask in your presence again.” His voice was quiet, gentle and burnished velvet as he nearly whispered. 

“This might be a personal question.” You began your response, gaze directed toward your hands as your fingers grasped the seatbelt holding you in place. 

“Anything, butter bean, I’ll tell you anything and everything.” His answer was immediate, decisive, and firm. 

“Do you have to unhinge your jaw when you fit half a steak in your mouth all at once?” You asked your question, whispering this time so as not to break the hushed atmosphere yourself. He was being entirely too romantic for anyone’s good. 

“How is that even personal?” Jin exclaimed, shattering what was once a peaceful and nearly intimate moment. The expression on his face was comical, mouth dropped open and eyes widened in shock as he sputtered. “This is worse than telling me you’re a vegetarian!” 

“Oh hardly!” You soothed, grinning as you released the latch on your seatbelt before gathering your purse. “It’s a genuine question as to the mechanics of your jaw. This question is purely for scientific purposes.” You barely touched the door handle before Jin was out of the vehicle and making his way to your side of the car. 

“Science, you say?” That soft tone was back, though it clearly carried an undertone of heat to it. “You know the best way to find out is through experience.” He held the door open, his free hand waiting for you to take with his palm held up. 

“I’m not even wearing pants, how are you trying to get into them?” With your hand clasped in his, the two of you ambled slowly toward the entrance to your apartment building. You were surprised at how comfortable you felt in Jin’s presence, even if he did insist on calling you butter bean. 

“Never underestimate the power of your beauty, Y/N.” Oh. This was unexpected. What were you supposed to say to that? Was this man even real? Obviously he was, but could you really believe what you were hearing and seeing?

Thankfully you were saved from responding by the front door of your apartment. The two of you lingered in front of the steps, the beginnings of an awkward silence beginning to build. One breath, two, and then you opened your mouth to speak. 

“I had a great time too.” You mumbled, uncertain now that you were in entirely uncharted territory. You had been on dates before, but never really interested in going on another with the same person. 

“Does that mean I can cook for you next time? Or should I resign myself to only being allowed to see you as we suffer the agonies of my cousin’s training programs?” Something akin to mortification settled in your chest at the idea of Seokjin seeing you sprawled out huffing and puffing with a shining, sweating face once more. You would have to switch your sessions if you wanted to maintain any sense of romance. 

“Ah, I think I might actually switch my gym schedule.” You hesitated, frowning at the thought before you continued. “When’s a good time for you? For dinner, I mean.” Somehow you felt an absolute sense of shyness take over you. Coupled with the butterflies filling your chest the only explanation was an oncoming heart attack, right?

“And deny me the satisfaction of suffering with you?” Jin’s hand immediately clapped to his chest, fingers spread as he took on a truly legendary pout. This man should have been an actor. He was making it nearly impossible to deny him at this rate. 

“Give me one good reason not to.” Your last ditch attempt at maintaining your distance was a good one, or so you thought while the two of you stood in the cool evening breeze. Your door was just a few steps away, your humble yet cozy apartment just beyond a few locks and stairs. 

“Will this be good enough?” Jin’s face hovered barely more than a breath away from yours, chocolate eyes centered on your face as his hands traced up over your arms toward your shoulders. You’d barely opened your mouth to ask him what he meant by the time his plush lips made contact with yours. 

At first, you didn’t know how to respond. The kiss itself was unexpected, then the soft sound building and releasing in his throat was even more surprising until you felt his fingers threading through the strands of your hair. After that you discovered this was not a one-sided activity. Your arms wound around his shoulders while your head slanted to one side so you could deepen the connection. It wasn’t until he pulled away that you realized both of you were out of breath. 

“So, my precious butter bean, did I give you what you wanted?”

[queen18xo]

Draw Me In

Second chapter for the fic. made a mood board for the chapter, hope you enjoy! Story can also be read on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/26581390/chapters/64806592

It had been three days since the incident with Mr Stark; Peter had continued to attend work as usual, unsure how long he could count on the security of his job. Peter had cursed himself a multitude of times for tampering with the suit; he should've just left it to blow up in Mr Starks face. However, for Peter, that would be impossible; Peter had always been a tender-hearted soul. He had always been the smartest person in the room, along with being the youngest, there was without fail an exhaustive amount of bullies where ever the boy went. Indeed growing up with life tearing you apart should be incentive enough to become bitter and self-involved, Peter couldn't accept living that way. It must be a heartbreaking way to live.

The passing days since his abrupt meeting with Peter Parker Tony had spent a considerable amount of time thinking about the boy. He was hoping to ignore the issue, being a firm believer that if he ignores a problem it with cease to exist. However, Peter was not someone to be ignored. The boy was beyond beautiful; he was entirely bewitching. Tony was hardpressed to find people who could keep pace with him mentally; he had no doubt Peter would be capable of not only keeping up but possibly the boy could teach him a few things. A brain like that inside a boy as pretty and soft as Peter was near impossible to resist for Tony.

Hard as Tony tried, he couldn't resist the urge to learn more about the boy, it was like an unceasing itch in ever-present in the back of his mind. "Friday, pull up all information on Peter Parker," Tony grunts out; the man is exhausted. He had been working relentlessly in his lab as of late in a futile attempt to keep the soft-looking boy in the far crevices of his caffeine-fueled mind. Upon his demand, Friday is quick to shoot a mix of images and documents onto the hollo screens.

Like Tony, the young man graduated MIT at old fifteen with degrees in chemistry, physics and engineering. Documents stating the boy was well-liked amongst his professors and passed the classes with unprecedented ease. Tony felt a swell of pride in his chest as he flicked through the sizeable amount of achievements the boy had gained during his short stint at the college. Peter had unsurprisingly been snatched up by Stark industries instantly upon earning his diplomas.

Moving on from the information he had gathered from the boy's employee folder, he moved on to look further into the boy's life. Alongside the substantial amount of daily hours the boy worked in the R&D department, he also worked evenings and weekends at a sandwich shop in Queens called Delmars. The boy currently rented a one-bedroom flat close to the sandwich shop.

Tony startled upon seeing the boys name upon a lease agreement for the decaying apartment he was inhabiting. Tony delved into the boys past, finding nothing but a bitter tragedy that had even his heart of stone crumbling. Peters parents had been killed in a plane crash when the boy was four, the records stating the boy had been left with his Aunt May and Uncle Ben, the boy's Aunt and Uncle had both been murdered by a burglar while the boy had been away at MIT. It dawned on Tony that it had barely been over a year since the boy had lost the remaining members of his family. Tony couldn't hold back any longer he needed to do something to ease the sweet boys suffering.

Tony contemplated how a boy with so many heart-rending tragedies could still be so soft and innocent as he pulled up Peters number. Tony sat on one of the many stools in his lab as he waited for Peter the answer the call. "Hello?" Peter soft voice floated through the speakers.

"Hello Mr Parker" Tony skips the introduction confident the boy would know it was him, he wasn't a man easily mistaken for others. "I have had some time to consider the situation, and I have a proposition I wish to discuss with you at my compound."

Peter sits in his bed mouth agape as he struggles to comprehend what the older man has said. Until now, Peter had been sure he was going to lose his job. Hearing Mr Stark clear his throat almost awkwardly across the line spurs the boy into action "When should I be there, Mr Stark?" Peter asks, pulling his calender up to mark the date and time down.

"Within the next hour" Tony shocks himself by saying, the man drops his head to the steel lab table wondering why he would say that. Checking the time and seeing that it was already 10 pm; Tony only wanted to crush his head further into the table. "Look kid this is not me coming on to you but just plan to stay the night, I have a spare room, and this is going to make more sense once we have talked." Tony internally curses himself as he hears Peters irregular breathing through the phone, this was a bad idea, yet he couldn't stand the thought of this sweet boy wasting away alone any longer. Tony was going to do something and damn the consequences.

"O...Okay, Mr Stark" Peter responds panic widened eyes searching the room blindly to figure out what he would need. Peter faintly hears Mr Stark ending the call, the boy in a haze as he begins stuffing his bag, anxious to remember everything. Peter flung his backpack over his shoulders, ensuring the straps are tightened before fleeing to the rooftops, the boy swings to the compound in a daze.

Once at Mr Starks compound Peter hurries into the elevator pressing the button for the penthouse, he leans nervously against the back wall of the elevator biting his nails in anticipation. "You look beautiful Mr Parker" Peter startles a squeal leaving his parted lips as he readies himself in a fighting stance. Senses on high alert he searches the small confines of the lift for the speaker. "I'm sorry Mr Parker, it was not my intention to scare you" Peter lets out a breath of relief upon realising it was Friday who had spoken.

Calming down from his initial reaction, he allows what she had spoken to take hold in his mind, his eyes flying open staring at himself in the reflective surface of the elevator doors. Peter begins to panic his breaths coming in short, harsh puffs of hot air. Peter slowly slides down the elevator wall his warm ass coming it to contact with the icy cold metal floor not enough to draw him from his internal panic.

"Sir, it would appear Mr Parker is having a panic attack in the elevator." Tony speeds to where the elevator sits open; Peter sat before him, his head buried between his arms and knees.

"Pete?" Tony whispers as he closes the distance between them, keeping his movements slow so as not to startle the fragile boy as he sits curled into himself. "Hey Peter" Tony whispers softly, he pulls his slacks up to bunch beneath his hip to allow him some space to crouch down beside the shaking boy. "What happened Petey?" Tony keeps his voice quiet, calm and controlled; he places a grounding hand on the boy's shoulder. "What can you hear, sweetheart?" Tony asks the boy gently.

Peter whimpers, the soft vibrations of his deep rumbling voice and the comforting warmth of the man's palm on his shoulder helping to calm his rapid breathing. He draws in a few deep breaths before trying to speak. "Y...You S...sir" Peters whimpers out breathlessly.

"That's good, Peter, well done. Now tell me what can you smell?"

Peter takes a moment to inhale deeply through his nose; he catches the hit of what must be Mr Starks cologne, the scent deep, a smokey mix of cedar and pine. The man's natural musk was breaking through the edges of the cologne a combination of grease and something so uniquely Mr Stark. "I can smell your cologne" The boy informs Mr Stark shakily, even in his panicked state realising he enhanced senses were responsible for him smelling the man's natural scent.

"You are doing so well, sweetheart, tell me what you can see Pete." Tony softly orders, he avoids phrasing it like a question hoping the gentle command will help ebb away at the boy's anxiety.

"I forgot to change" Peter states self depreciatingly as he opens his eyes looking down at himself while keeping his head firmly held in the middle of his curled up body. The boy's anxiety now a low hum coursing through him. His breathing was regulating as well as his heart rate. His cheeks pinken with the oncoming embarrassment.

"I'm not sure I understand Pete" Tony looks over the boy in confusion, from where he is seated he can see no reason the boy would be so worried about changing. Although the way Peter is curled in on himself making it difficult for Tony to see much besides his unruly mop of sandy brown locks.

"I panicked when you told me to come over I forgot to change" Peter stutters out pausing to take a deep breath, he lifts his chin, his watery eyes meet Tonys worried ones. "Its a weekend, no one is meant to see me like this, I didn't realise I hadn't changed until Friday mentioned it." Peter finishes determinedly biting back the tears that burn in his eyes and the sob that threatens to wrack through his body like wildfire.

"What did you say Fri?" Tony asks his voice on the edge of angry; he tries hard to rein in his anger with his AI not wanting to alarm the boy who he could feel still trembling slightly beneath the vast expanse of his palm.

"I'm very sorry, Peter, I did not mean to upset you. You are beautiful, no matter what you wear." Friday's voice rings out in the small confines of the elevator; Tony agrees Peter is unfairly beautiful but what would prompt Friday to make such an out of character comment.

Peter watches as Tony sits confused, obviously working hard to wrack his brain for any realistic explanation he can find. Peter feels his blood turn hot, knowing that getting up and showing the man is unavoidable. Of all the people to see him like this, Tony Stark is the last person he would want to witness him in this way. Tony Stark was devilishly handsome, with his neatly maintained stubble, his well-defined torso and broad shoulders. The man was irresistible to both genders. Here Peter sat with his scrawny body, messy hair and childish features. "can we just get up please Mr Stark?" Peter moves to stand before realising he should reassure Friday. "This isn't your fault Friday, and I do appreciate the compliment, thank you."

"You are most welcome, Mr Parker. I am sorry to have startled you. However, I can assure you Mr Stark will not be upset with you, so please do not worry." Friday reassures the boy, Peters's lips curl up in a fond smile, it was sweet of Friday to say, however, it did little to alleviate the onslaught of renewed anxiety he felt bubbling.

Tony stands dusting off his slacks and straightening his burgundy button-down shirt; the man does this to regain his bearings, the sight of Peter and Friday conversing with such familiarity warming his heart more then he would care to admit. Although the older man still found himself perplexed over the contents of said conversation. He was at a loss as to why Peter would be scared enough to warrant reassurance from Friday over something as trivial as clothing. What could the boy possibly wearing that would warrant such a reaction from not only Friday but Peter himself. The boy had so overcome with fear and embarrassment he had spiralled into a panic attack.

Tony pushes his queries to the far recesses of his mind where they sit alongside the man's desire for the younger boy. A hidden corner of his mind left there to avoid disturbing Tony and forcing him to ask questions that Peter is not willing to answer. Tony readies himself to act nonchalant as he offers a hand from Peter to grasp, he helps to pull the lithe boy from the ground. Tony handle Peters weight efficiently, the ease striking Tony and causing a warm curl of satisfaction to lace its way through his chest, there was something oddly alluring about knowing hed to be able to manhandle the boy effortlessly.

Upon seeing Peter Tony realises, he was unprepared for the sight before him. His attempt at remaining nonchalant when faced with the boy's attire quickly exited the premises. Tony stared slack-jawed, wide eyes roving over every inch of the boy. Peter stood before him looking like something fresh out of one of his lewdest fantasies. Tony chokes, the fundamental function of swallowing correctly lost to him as he hungrily drinks in Peter appearance.

Peters thick, hairless thighs were encased in the tight skin material of a grey checkered mini skirt, his family thighs looking delectable, the skin of his juicy thighs meeting in the centre. Tony wanted to turn the boy around and take in the sight of his plum behind. Tucked into Peters skirt was a soft textured, baby pink jumper, the pink contrasting beautifully with his rosy complexion. Tony craved to feel the softness of the boy's jumper against his body as he caressed the younger boy. The last item holding the outfit together was a black leather belt with a gold buckle which shimmered under the soft lighting flowing into the elevator from his apartment. The belt highlights Peter trim waist, flaunting his sinful curvacious hips. "God, kid, you're going to be the death of me" Tony whispers breathily into the air between them. His cock stirring in appreciation for the delightful picture Peter made.

Tony began walking, needing to pull himself away from Peter before he did something dangerous; he walked ahead, allowing himself sufficient time to calm his keen lower appendage. He kept his shoulders low and body loose, ensuring the kid would not think he was attempting to close himself off in distaste.

"I'm sorry Mr Stark, I never meant for you or well anyone to see me like this" Peter spits out as if forced, his voice wavering uncertainly as he hurries behind Tony.

Gesturing for Peter to sit Tony pours himself a glass of whisky dropping a generous helping of ice into the glass before joining the boy on the couch. Tony sighs heavily, wiping a calloused palm over his fatigued features as he determines how to begin this conversation. "Pete, I don't want you to ever apologise to me for how you dress" Tony starts pausing to think his thoughts through thoroughly, knowing the situation they were in was a delicate one.  "If you want to wear skirts and other pretty things, then please wear them when you are with me Peter I want you to feel comfortable wearing whatever makes you happy." Tony finishes looking up to lock gazes with Peter, proving that his words are said with conviction.

"Don't you think there is something wrong with me?" Peter asks quietly, his voice timid and uncertain as he voices a question he has asked himself an innumerable amount of times. Peter watches as Tony slides of the couch to kneel before him.

Peter allows Tony to hold his dainty hands in the warmth created by his warm, calloused palms. Peter looks down at where his hands are encased by Tonys his heart beating hard in his chest he dears it may break. "There is nothing wrong with you, Peter; you are beautiful no matter what you choose to wear" Peter flutters his damp eyelashes pushing back the prickling tears as his gaze stays locked on Tonys. They stare unblinking, enraptured by one another, their hot breaths mingling in the space between them. At this moment Peter wishes for nothing more than the man's lips on his own, he dreams to feel the way Tonys stubble drags across the sensitive flesh of his cheeks as the man devours him in an all-consuming kiss.

Tony pulls away, Peter may be beautiful, sweet and smart but they barely knew each other, Peter was too young not even legal yet. Tony was heavily conflicted he knew he was attracted to the kid, but he also knew nothing could come from that attraction. Peter was innocent; he was kind-hearted and much too good for Tonys destructive touch. reluctantly Tony pulls away, moving back to his previous seat, opposite Peter on the couch. "How about we both get into something comfortable, we can watch a movie and then head to bed? it's been a long evening we can talk in the morning."

Peter nods, still mildly dazed from the fleeting moment they had shared, he was uncertain over whether the older had meant for the intimacy of the moment or if it was wishful thinking on his part. Peter watches as Tony exits the room before carefully listening to Friday's instructions and retiring to the guestroom to change into his loungewear.

Tony is back on the sofa, two steaming cups of hot chocolate prepared before him as he waits for Peter to emerge. He feels drawn to the younger man as if they were kindred souls destined to meet. The man didn't believe in destiny, but for Peter, there was nothing he wouldn't believe in. Flicking through the movies, he selects beauty and the beast before settling in and waiting for Peter to join him.

Lost in thought Tony doesn't notice Peters presence until the boy curls up on the sofa next to him with a soft smile. Peter tucks his feet beneath his thighs, his head resting against his bicep as his hand curls into his hair. He smiles warmly up at Tony from where he is seated. Peter changed into a soft-looking baby pink lounge set. The cropped jumper was emphasising the boy's toned stomach and the deep v of his hipbones. The pants cling to his legs like a second skin. Tony starts the movie beckoning for Peter to scoot closer till he is tucked protectively underneath the older man's arm. His soft, slightly curly hair was tickling the underside of his chin as they both sleepily watch the movie revelling in comforting warmth enveloping them.

[soriseerakyra]

A Flight of Fancy -3- (Black!Batmom)

A/N: Thank you @faralasunita

“Hold it still.”

You tired arms lift the vase higher as you try to keep the grimace off of you face.

JoJo raises a pierced eyebrow and pouts her bare full lips in concentration.

“Is this better?” You ask letting out a heavy sigh.

“It’s as good as you’re going to give me,” She replies somewhat snippily.

Normally you would let your annoyance shine clearly on your face, but you were intruding on her, and more than that, she had generously been acting as a buffer between you and Kenya.

“Sorry,” You mutter, biting your lips and making your mind up to bare the weight of the heavy vase.

Her eyes once again leave the canvas of her painting as she lets out an irritated sigh,” One of these days you’re going to have to grow a backbone.”

“I-I have a backbone,” You protest, eyebrows furrowing.

“Is that why you’ve been holding that vase over your head for nearly forty-five minutes without a break?”

“W-well,” you stutter trying to come up with a clever response. “You asked?”

She sighs and rolls her neck, her long dreads swinging like a curtain of silk as she does so, “Let’s take a break.”

“Really?” You ask, lowering the vase to the ground as gently as possible.

“Didn’t I just say so?”

“Okay,” You say with a smile.

She chuckles at your reaction and motions for you to sit down on her couch as she moves from the room into her kitchen.

Sliding deep into her plush couch, you begin to fiddle with your fingers. You take the time to take in the sheer size of her loft and the rare beautiful view of Gotham Bay. It gave you a little bit of peace every time you could get a good glimpse of it. And a little bit of peace had been something that you needed over the past three days.

“I guess,” you mutter reluctantly. You find yourself locking your gaze onto the glossy floor of what would be your new lab.

“Good,” Mr. Wayne replies flatly. “See you Monday.”

As quickly and mysteriously as he arrived, he was gone. You were once again left with Mr. Fox, the man who had lulled you down to this trap.

You should have stayed home.

“It’ll be okay,” the man in question says in a soft fatherly tone offering you another warm squeeze on your shoulder. “He’s not as good with people as he likes to believe. But this’ll be a great thing for you.”

Your shoulders sag as the memory replays through your mind. Kenya’s offer had been a good thing for you. And though you hadn’t been on the job long enough to really grow an attachment to the people or your lab, you were starting to. What was worse, you hadn’t even had the guts to tell Kenya, one of the few people in the world who you were sure would take a bullet for you, what had happened. You just hadn’t shown up to work.

“Hey,” JoJo says plopping down next to you, offering you a glass bottle. “You still here?”

“Yeah,” you mutter dejectedly, “I just don’t know how to tell her.”

“Just tell her,” she replies with a shrug.

“I can’t,” You whine. “What if she gets mad at me?”

“Yeah, she's going to be pissed,” JoJo says with an affirming nod of her head. “She might even yell at you.”

“I don’t want that.”

“She might ‘fire’ you in front of her friends.”

“Shit.”

“She probably won’t talk to you for months.”

“Joooo~”

“And then she’ll get over it,” she finishes, finally taking a swig out of her own glass bottle.

“No, she won’t, she’s going to hate me forever, and the worst part is that I couldn’t even say no,” you pout.

Her dark eyes flash at you dangerously, “Don’t lie.”

“What?” You ask her questioningly.

“Didn’t I already ask you when you were going to get a backbone? You could have said no if you wanted to. Told him to go fuck himself, but you didn’t.”

“You don’t understand,” you respond defensively. “I was underground, it was just me and the two of them. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

“Then do it now,” JoJo states flatly.

“What?”

“Call his office, tell him that you have changed your mind and that you can’t take his offer and no amount of money will make you change your mind.”

You stomach begins to twirl with knots as the simple thought of having the conversation begins to run through your mind. What if he gets mad? What if he asks you why? The thought of answering too many questions or having to talk more than you needed too sent shivers of anxiety down your back.

But what would be worse? Inviting the wrath of a man you barely know and enough money to buy the world ten times over? Or hurting and letting down your friend who had been there for you through countless trials and practically given you the life that you had now?

“Tummy upset?” JoJo asks you concerned. She’d been deeply eyeing your face; a queasy looking expression had dawned your features.

You nodded your head in affirmation.

“Drink your drink,” She says motioning to the bottle in your hand.

“What is it?” You question nose scrunching up skeptically.

“Kombucha, drink it, you’ll feel better.”

“All right,” you say twisting the cap.

The carbonated drink helps to soothe your nervous stomach.

Until something viscous and slimy slides down your throat. You gag and cough.

“What the hell was that ?!” You question your friend accusingly. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“It’s the mother,” JoJo says seriously. “Feel her inside you giving you strength.”

Oh, she’s on her hippy, dippy bullshit.

“The drink comes from the earth and now its inside you, making you stronger.”

“Jo, what is it? Scientifically speaking,” You question flatly.

“Fermented shit, its fine, don’t worry you’re not going to die.”

“Promise?”

“95%.”

“That’s good enough I guess.”

“Still nervous?” She questions.

“Not as much,” You respond with a small smile.

“Good,” she says with a smirk. “Time to make your first call.”

“First?”

***

With a shuttering breath, Bruce Wayne stood and stretched as best he could. Usually, he would be able to grit his teeth and take the pain. His years of practice and discipline had rendered him all but impervious to much of the everyday pains of life, and even some of the more substantial pains and injuries that his lifestyle gave.

Lately, however, things had been getting worse. One day it would be his knee, then his back, his hands, and then his legs. Today, his body felt like a clenching fist and it was taking the majority of his strength to not curl into a ball.

He didn’t know what was worse, the fact that he was spending most of his days in pain now, or the fact that due to his pain, others were having to pick up the slack for him.

As he stands in front of his bathroom mirror, he looks at the various scars and bruises on his chest. Only a few of the visible ramifications of the Bat. Usually, when he saw those scars, he was able to draw strength from them. He was able to understand that as long as he was able to take the pain, someone else wouldn’t else wouldn’t have to. However, as his hair began to gray and the lines of his face began to sink in, he found the more resentful he became. How long would he have to do this? How much more did he have to suffer? Why couldn’t the bad ever just stay gone? Why couldn’t he stop?

These questions tended to make him angry. Not at the world, he’d already been angry at that from a very young age. But they’d make him angry, because deep down he knew that truth. That he’d never stop. He couldn’t. Not even if every evil doer in Gotham had been purged or reformed. He needed the Bat. He was more the Bat than he was Bruce Wayne. It had taken him a while to come to that understanding. It’s that realization however, that had also brought him another. That in his spirit he may fully be the Bat, but his human body would only give him so much time. What could he do to overcome that very human limitation?

The discovery of the programmer had been one of pure happenstance. Warner and Bobbitt’s Medical Fabrications was a very new medical company, with an ambitious goal of being an innovator in restorative medicine. Bruce had not paid much attention to the small company until they had opened a regional office in the city. Even then, it was only the persistence of one of their executives, Kenya Chamberlin, that got him interested in investing in the company.

The woman had been dangling offers of new experimental technology out to any investor that would listen. It was clear that the sale of any one off the designs that she offered would not only make Warner and Bobbitt’s very wealthy, but also propel her to a new height in her career.

That kind of desperation had kept Bruce from placing any value in what she had claimed to offer for months. But the most recent design that she had been advertising, proved to be the very solution he needed for his humanity. It also helped that this design had been more fleshed out than the others that he’d seen. That meant not only was it feasible but with the right mind, he could have his hands on the technology sooner than he anticipated.

The designer though, he had felt bad about that. She’d looked so broken when he had offered her his ultimatum. Lucius had warned him that crushing her spirit like that could stifle her creativity and he might not get the outcome he wanted. Perhaps if he were a younger man, he could have been more amenable to that fact. But he didn’t have time to worry about someone else’s heart when he was constantly fighting for the very soul of Gotham on a nightly basis.

“Master Wayne?” A familiar voice calls from outside of his bathroom.

The skin of his shoulders nearly flinched at the unexpected sound of his caretaker’s voice. After all of these years, Alfred was still the only person who could catch him off guard.

“What is it?”

Bruce nearly grimaced as the words tumbled from his lips. His tone had gotten sharper over the years and came across more biting than he usually intended. If he wasn’t constantly monitoring how he was talking to people, he often sounded like a grumpy old man.

“A call from Lucius Fox, sir. He said it’s a priority concern.”

Bruce sees his brows furrow in the mirror before he feels it happen on his face, the tightness of irritation no longer felt foreign, but natural.

With a calming sigh he opens the door the bathroom. He finds Alfred standing there with a passive look on his face.

“Here you are, sir,” The older man says handing him his house phone.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

He doesn’t bother to wait until Alfred is gone to put the phone to his ear.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well Good Morning to you too, Mr. Wayne,” Lucius chuckled from the other side of the line.

“Sorry,” Bruce apologizes quickly. “You said it was a concern.”

“It is,” the man on the other side of the line sighs cautiously. “That programmer you hired, she turned down your offer.”

“What?” Bruce says muscles tightening in anger rather than pain for once that day. “What happened?”

“I imagine she didn’t like being threatened into taking a job she didn’t want Mr. Wayne.”

Hot air filters out of his nose like an angry bull and his temples begin to beat with a headache of annoyance.  Had the woman complied, she would have been treated well, what was the point of not taking his offer? He had made it very clear that he would have made her life hell if she didn’t comply.

“Call her and try to set up a meeting so we can renegotiate,” Bruce says trying to find the most rational next course of action.

“She’s asked that we not contact her again or she’ll sue for harassment.”

“I see, thank you, Lucius.”

He doesn’t give the man time to respond to the courtesy before he clicks the ‘END’ button on the phone.

Fine.

There were many ways to get what he wanted and just because she said no to this one doesn’t mean that she’ll say no to the others.

*** “That Fucker!!!”

It’s a scream that permeates the room and your skull. You’re glad that no one is in the building save for your friends and a few employees of Spencer’s Space Age Bowling Adventure, your former place of employment.

“I knew it! I knew it!” Kenya screams repeatedly over the crash of balls and pins. The other girls had opted to pick up a few rounds while you and your oldest friend had a heart-to-heart. “I knew when you didn’t show up that something had happened. I just thought you fucked, but this! This is so much worse!”

“What is wrong with you people?” You question looking at the woman with furrowed brows.

“What? It’s Bruce Wayne, come on,” She says looking at your weirdly.

“So, you really were pimping me out?” You question angrily, cheeks puffed.

“No, of course not,” She says waving you off taking a swig of the beer in front of her. “I mean it’s not like you wouldn’t have had fun.”

“But this is my life, Kenya, did you think that maybe that I wouldn’t want to sleep with him?”

“Then you could have said no,” She said looking at you frowning. “I didn’t promise him anything. I didn’t say ‘come look at my design and you can sleep with my programmer.’ I just gave him something nice to look at.”

“Is that all I am to you?” You whisper.

“But damn it, I offered him the milk and he tried to buy the whole damn cow!” She says slapping her hand roughly on the wood of the bar. “And he’s gone to put an offer on the design too and he’s going to  hold it hostage. That can’t happen.”

“But what about-”

“STRIKE BITCH!” Ari’s excited voice from across the room cuts off your feeble response.

“We’ve got to find another buyer, maybe someone out of the country so he can’t get his hands on it.”

“You can’t gloat when you’re using the bumpers,” Chanel chides her younger sister.

“You can have more of the prototype fleshed out by Monday, right?” Kenya says pulling at her phone taping furiously. “We’re going to need to be aggressive on this.”

There’s more screaming from the sisters at the lane, more talk from Kenya about the design, but all you can hear is your heart beating furiously in your ears.

You had been right when you had hesitated about agreeing to Kenya’s terms for the job. She had been using you, you were indeed just part of her scheme. What was even worse was, you were just eye candy, just as Ari had implied. And it hurt.

But part of you didn’t know what hurt more. The fact that she had indeed used you like you had feared, the fact that she didn’t think that she did anything wrong, or the fact that she was probably setting you up to do it again. Did your sisterhood, your friendship, really mean that little to her?

No, you deiced.

It’s just that her well-being, her success, meant more than anything to her.

“I’m going to get some air,” You mumble as you begin to slip off the stool you’d perched yourself on and covertly grab your purse.

She doesn’t look up you as her thumbs move over her phone screen faster than you had ever seen, “Fine be back in five, I’m going to get us on a call with my bosses.”

“All right,” you agree.

If she had been listening, she would have seen how dejected you were, how there were nearly tears spilling from the corners of your eyes. But she wasn’t.

The warm air of Gotham’s late spring/early summer evening hits your nose sweetly. It gives you pause and causes you to take a few deep breaths to control your tears. You wanted to have at least enough dignity not to cry in public.

“Did it go well?” A smooth familiar voice asks calmly.

You turn to see JoJo leaning against the wall of the bowling alley, a cigarette hanging from her deep purple painted lips.

“Why are you crying?” She asks, her heavily lined eyes becoming wide as she takes in your form.

“You know,” you say sadly, “Just Kenya being Kenya.”

“What a bitch,” she says clicking her tongue. “What did she say? You want me to go take care of it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” You mumble.

You hear a deep sigh and then her warm hand grasps your shoulder, “You want to come stay the night again?”

“No,” you respond with a shake of your head. “I think I’m going to just go home.”

“Let me take you.”

“It’s all right,” you say with a sad smile. “I’m just going to walk. I’ve got time before the sun sets.”

She looks at you worriedly, “All right but call me when you get home.”

“Will do.”

*** Your walk home had turned into you moping in the middle of Gotham City park. The sun had just started to set, and families had packed up their little ones and were on their way home.

You force yourself to swing your legs, it gives you a little bit of happiness. The sadness in your heart quickly swallows any joy.

*Ring*

You let out a sigh, JoJo was probably wondering where you are.

“I’m almost home I promise,” You answer with a sigh.

“Oh? That’s too bad, I was hoping you would join me for dinner.”

The deepness of the voice you hear causes your heart to drop in slight alarm. You pull the phone away from your face.

DO NOT ANSWER is splashed across your screen.

“Mr. Wayne?” You question slightly confused.

“It is,” He answers smoothly.

“Dinner?” You question looking down at your jeans and a T-shirt.

“Nothing fancy I promise,” he says as if he’s reading your mind.

You bite your lip. Perhaps if your mood had been better you would have had the strength to say no. He was the cause of at least some of this after all. But you feel like eating your feelings.

“Okay.”

“Good, tell me where you are. I’ll pick you up.”

[kindredsoulsoftimesofold]

Incoming TROS rant

yes, there will be spoilers as I will be breaking down everything I saw tonight. If I manage to type choking on my tears well after the movie finished.

----

FINAL WARNING IF YOU DON’T WANT SPOILERS

Let’s start with a few opening words, this rant will indeed be a long one.

ALL THE LEAKS ARE TRUE. And I mean ALL of them. To a T. As soon as I saw the first half was exactly as I’d read, I was crushed. As I knew what was coming. On that note, i was probably the only person in the theatre who was crying like 15-20 minutes before we were supposed to, I’ll get to that in a bit. I’m saving the WORST for last. Let’s break this shit down.

1. The plot is a mess. An actual mess. I feel like every five minutes I was shaking my head and mumbling ‘what kind of nonsense is this’. The breaking of lore or COMMON SENSE really is substantial. But that is definitely not what I cared about, as I already KNEW this even without the leaks. When you can’t get your two directors to FUCKING WORK TOGETHER TO MAKE A COHESIVE STORYLINE it is bound to grasp for straws and make shit up. IT AIN’T NOTHING NEW.

2. Here’s the kicker. THE DIALOGUE WAS SO BAD, it makes Anakin’s AOTC speech seem like a hymn, or poetry or whatever. They CONSTANTLY say what they’re doing, they’re literally reciting the exposition to each other and it comes off as extremely annoying and makes you feel like a toddler. No hate against toddlers, but I’d rather not be one right now. It feels unnatural, forced and STUPID to the point where I would start WISHING for 3PO to come back on screen because Anthony Daniels somehow managed to snag some actually decent lines for once? I love the man, but the droid usually really annoys the crap outta me. He was literally the highlight of the film. Don’t get me started on the stupidity of all of Lando’s lines, poor Billy. Daisy has to stare angrily most of the time so I don’t really care to recall her lines. Adam, my dear Adam, he tries SO HARD to make do with what he was given but even his lines 90% of the time come off as stupid and out of place. Or the worst type in this movie, EXPOSITIONYY. Don’t get me started on Mark Hamill and Harrison Ford. Boys looked like they didn’t sign up for this shit and were literally force choked to be there. I feel you guys, I feel you. ALSO FOR THE LOVE OF THE FORCE THE TIMES THEY REPEATED WORD FOR WORD LINES FROM OTHER MOVIES I WANTED TO SCREAM. Once is too much, THIS MANY TIMES IT IS A FELONY. And it needs to be punished somehow.

3. Let’s get the positives out of the way because there were FEW. The two scenes I actually REALLY enjoyed watching, for different reasons were:

Ben and Palps meeting. The scene was much longer than the clip and SUPER badass. Sheev’s voice echoes, Ben looks fucking cool and the whole scene is GORGEOUS.

The other is when Ben fights as a Jedi in the end. I’ll get to Ben later BELIEVE ME but without overexplaining, he fights with Anakin’s lightsabre, he’s really speedy and is doing all the Jedi spins and whatnot. I fucking ATE THAT UP. Replay that scene forever please CAUSE I LOVED IT. But I was already crying here so we’ll touch more on that later.

To conclude this segment, the visuals were SUPERB, the sound was AMAZING and (some) of the fights were jaw droppingly cool. But that about concludes the positives!

4. I will comment, as I know a lot of people will care even if I don’t particularily. Finn, Poe, Rose and the merry gang aside from our Jedi are reduced to EH this movie. If you thought you’d never miss Rose boy were you wrong. They introduce new characters and expect you to care about them when they SIDELINED the ones they’d hoped you’d care about BEFORE. And it made me care about NO ONE. Not to mention that, sadly, they are ALWAYS reduced to the boring side plot that really isn’t interested or key to much of ANYTHING. Sure they roused the people and all but would’ve been TOAST if Rey didn’t go all Jesus on the fleet. So at the end of the day, you MAY find some enjoyment with the side characters but their lines were some of the worst, you WILL be force fed new people and you might not really enjoy your previous faves here because even I found myself being completely indifferent this time. (I actually really ENJOYED Finn since TFA. He had a compelling storyline and John Boyega was alright. Couldn’t give two wits about him in this movie. Not a single one. But again, I may not be the perfect person to ask if you really,really like any of these characters.

5. Finally, we have arrived to the main event. THE REYLO.

The backbone of this clusterfuck of a new trilogy. The last Skywalker and Palpatine, coming together instead of apart. The arguably BEST actors (legacies aside) Disney managed to get. Now, I will start this off that I didn’t HATE Rey before this movie. I loved her in TFA, enjoyed her less in TLJ but the novelization fixed that. I was BACK ON BOARD to be her number one stan. In this movie, I couldn’t STAND her. Her lines are basically the director walking you through things, her plotline was obviously made last minute so almost none of it makes sense,  I literally wanted to curl up and DIE from cringing so hard every time someone said ‘you’re a Palpatine’. I thought I was looking at a very expensive rendition of terrible fan fiction. (Not to diss fan fiction in any way, you guys will be my heroes after this catastrophe.) ‘Empress Palpatine’, COME THE FUCK ON AND GET OUT WITH THIS SHIT. Bring back crusty old Snoke for crying out loud! Or even HUX! Who got killed off in a second and had three lines of dialogue, not important I guess? Like a great many things I guess, JJ. But, EVEN Palpatine aside, it was great seeing him again and every scene he was in I got chills, who cares that it makes zero sense at this point. Back to reylo.

Ben. Ben Solo Organa Skywalker. The last hope. The final remnant of something I have loved FOREVER. I grew up with Star Wars, like many others just in a different, post prequel era and they are still my favourites. This might sound ridiculous but Star Wars was part of my heart, my happiness. It brought me joy to watch it, read it, fantasize about it and have it in my life when times were dark or miserable. It MEANT something to me, as I am sure many of you will agree. And Ben was part of that. He was part of something that MEANT something to all of us. He was the last line of the characters we all grew up with and loved. The GRANDSON of Anakin, my favourite character of all time. This was their chance to stop the trend that Loki’s death in IW and Daenerys’ death and turn and many others started and STOP killing people who did wrongs. PEOPLE can change, they can grow and they can learn. Hell, to not stray to far from this franchise REY has killed A LOT of people in this movie alone. She DECIMATES the room full of Palpatine’s followers and never blinks an eye. SHE NEARLY KILLS CHEWIE, DOES KILL BEN (for a minute) and SHE DOESN’T NEED TO DIE. Of course she doesn’t but BEN DOESN’T EITHER. After all that YOU JJ, YES YOU, show me that the LAST SKYWALKER has gone through, suffered, alone and frightened. I would’ve ENDED you if you’d suggested killing him off to me, EVER. He was your chance to do a reverse Vader, AS YOU CLAIMED YOU WOULD. To show a character can come back to the light and be worthy of it WITHOUT DYING. You even set it up as such, which is my next and CRUCIAL POINT.

I’ve been a reylo since 2015. Their dynamic has always been fascinating to me and beautiful. I LOVED all the moments in TLJ, LOVED THEM. In this one, every time they force bond (terrible dialogue aside, again) I was happy. I had a hope that she would bring him back from the darkness and he will keep her balanced. WELL, JJ, guess fuck me huh? And anyone with common sense and human decency. JUST WHEN you shove Ben’s turn in my face, you make him talk to Han, you make him strut in to fight alongside Rey in full Ben Solo Jedi mode, hair blown and casually dressed. It was when he runs onto Exegol that I started weeping. Because knowing that he dies as I did, it broke my heart how it was done. You give me the scene where he fights and you give me hope of what his future could’ve been if only you’d listened to reason and done what was supposed to be done. He is chucked into the pit, WHICH MIGHT I ADD WOULD’VE MADE ME MAD IF THAT WAS HIS END BUT WOULD’VE BEEN SOOOO MUCH BETTER THAN WHAT WE GOT, comes back. And now comes the scene that cemented this as the ABSOLUTE WORST insult to me as a fan, possible. Ben is heartbroken that Rey is dead, the moment is sad and he cradles her dead body and hugs her desperately. Which would’ve been a beautiful and GOOD DIFFERENT type of ending. Or rather not having her die at all and being NEAR her death and him saving her and both living happily ever after BUT NO. JJ AFTER THAT has her come back, smile happily when she sees it’s him, her love her hope and the other half of her SOUL literally (the diad or whatever it’s called is so rare that Palpatine was thrilled they’d formed such a bond, basically space soulmates), he has them kiss, then hold each other and smile at each other with genuine feeling of joy and belonging both of them had sought all their life AND THEN YANKS IT FROM UNDER YOU. The scene where Ben falls flat onto his back is quite comical and I couldn’t help but laugh in my misery and sobbing. Rey doesn’t even cry, we don’t even LINGER on his body or mourn him afterwards or even mention it or EVEN SEE her, THE PERSON WHO LITERALLY FOUND HER SOULMATE AND WAS SO HAPPY WHEN SHE KISSED HIM AND WAS LITERALLY SAVED BY HIM, but no guess that doesn’t require a scene, sure, fuck it LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE. The cheery music that plays up until the moment of his fall, YES THE FALL OF SKYWALKER MIND YOU NOT A FUCKING RISE, was an insult to every fan everyhwere, lifelong or recent or otherwise, it was a punch to the gut, a slap in the face and after this happened I no longer paid attention to the movie. I’d been crying for some time leading up to the moment, I knew what was coming and the execution only made it worse and a more desperate cry rather than only sad, I was hoping it wouldn’t happen somehow. I choked back tears until I finally got home and cried. One of the things which MEANT so much to me, was dead. I no longer have any doubts, that this was intentional. Look at Game of thrones, that was this year. It seemed intentional to make series stop, right? Everyone agrees. They wanted to finally bury the Skywalkers so they could make something unrelated? They kill off all the Skywalkers. Well guess what disney? YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO BRING THEM BACK IN THE FIRST PLACE, YOU MONEY HUNGRY PIECE OF SHIT. No one would have minded a new trilogy, with new characters doing NEW things. Why even drag the Skywalkers and the leagies into this if YOU DON’T WANT THEM HERE? All you got was millions of lifelong fans of the old movies who have already felt or are only now beginning to feel BETRAYED. I swear it disney, I don’t want to feel this misery again. You won’t take Star Wars away from me and the joy it brought me. I will without a care in the world dismiss this new trilogy as something completely separate from canon. You’ve killed your own fanbase. You could’ve had us but you LOST us. You dangled something we wanted in front of us for our money and then you ripped it apart.

If you are anything like me, anything like me at all and have loved SW for however long. if it MEANS ANYTHING TO YOU, I beg you not to see this movie or at the very least, pay for it. You WILL feel betrayed, insulted, heartbroken, devastated and miserable, as I am feeling right now. I was supposed to go see this movie another two times but i cannot and will not spend another CENT on a company that chooses to alienate me. Fine, have it your way. I’m done.

This concludes my rant as I am tired and upset. If I missed out on anything and you are interested in anything else, please do DM me or leave a comment :) We’re all in this together now, the reylos the antis the new fans and the old. We’re all in the same heartbreaking boat, I love you all. And I will love Star Wars. The REAL Star Wars forever. I wasn’t even sad the ‘FRANCHISE’ was ending because it wasn’t. It had ended a long, long time ago.

[muses-of-ideen]

Guardian’s Fall Excerpt

This is a part of Guardian’s Fall that I’ve been working on on and off.  I’ll be adding more to it over time, and I’ll reblog it when I do, but this is the chapter where Tiras nearly loses himself to his Curse and Pyrha has been tasked with bringing him back as punishment for sending him into his downward spiral in the first place.

Please note that this chapter will contain themes of abuse, psychosis, racial discrimination, and general tragedy over the course of being written.

             When Pyrha awoke, the sight that met her was a sea of blackness- no sky, no stars, no earth beneath her feet, neither the comfort of warmth nor the frightful cold.  And, as she began to become aware of herself in that space, the only thing she felt was in her heart; an overwhelming presence of hatred and despair.  Quickly, it brought her to her knees, first shaking and gasping as the feel of a thousand knives dug themselves into her ribs and chest, then sobbing and screaming, her hands tearing at her hair and ears as emotions that weren’t hers overwhelmed her.  It was the feeling of being betrayed by the only people who’d ever cared, the feeling of hope crushed by remorse- like everyone she ever loved had died spitting words of venom in her face.  It was enough to break a person.  She would rather die than to feel this despaired!  Hot tears ran down her cheeks and she choked on the air in her throat.  Everything hurt.  Everything burned.  She wanted to die.  She’d rather die than suffer endlessly like this!  She could feel her sense of self gradually being eroded away by the pain, and she just wanted it to stop-

              ‘Now do you get it, Priestess? This is the pain you caused him. This is what you are going to fix.,’ came a voice.  Despite the voice’s scolding tone, it brought a wave of relief in to muffle the strangling emotions.  She found herself able to breathe again, and she swallowed the air of the black void like water.  Even the soul needed to breathe, and she felt like hers hadn’t been able to catch its breath for a long time.

              “This is… a Curse?”

              ‘This is what makes a Curse.  And it is slowly eating away at Tiras.  He has been holding it at bay for many many years, even now he tries to hold it back, but your words drove him over the edge and if nothing is done to fix his broken soul he will turn into a Curse Spirit; suffering endlessly, for eternity, in loneliness and despair, and when he gives in, I too will fall, and all the world’s air will stagnate and sour.’

              “What?  N-No. There’s no way that what I said did this,” Pyrha retorted.  There was no way that just her words would lead to the end of Air!  “He’s just weak is all.  He’s too sensitive.  He didn’t need to take it that seriously!”  The wave of relief from before left her and she suddenly found herself once again drowning in a sea of pain and anguish; her Spirit taken from her, her tribesman slain, Spring’s face when she had confronted her, all of it burned and itched at every part of her, a fire that was truly unbearable.

              ‘You dare to call him weak when he has suffered emotions like these since before he even came to this city! Ignorant child, know your place! He may not always act in the most righteous of ways, but you who refuse to know him cannot presume to act as if you do!’

              ‘That should be enough of that.’ Another voice, a new calming wave. It wasn’t until Pyrha stopped gasping for breath that she realized that voice belonged to the Phoenix.  ‘You are emotional Dragoon because your precious one has been harmed.  I would be too; however, she will understand better if she goes in search of his heart rather than continuing to sit here and take your rage.  You will lose him.’

              “If it’s… that bad… release him from being your Priest.  You have others, right?” Pyrha said, her voice still wraspy.

              ‘The previous Priest, his father, still lives, however that man has strayed from the path.  All of his people have.  And Tiras is a special existence.  He cannot be replaced.  There will not be one like him for maybe another thousand years.’

              “What-?”

              ‘A Primae Nocturne, my child. ‘The First Priest.’  Tiras is one of these; a child who will lead his Spirit to prosperity, whose existence revolves entirely around his master even moreso than you or any of the others in that Council.  Our love, our children, our honeyed mead: to us Spirits there is none more precious than the First,’ the Phoenix answered.

              ‘And he has been forsaken by his people, his tribe, his clan.  If I abandon him… If I let go of him then his despair may engulf the world.  He is… fighting me, trying to make me let go, but I cannot.  I… cannot…’  Pyrha had always thought of Spirits as omniscient beings who transcended emotions like sadness and attachment, however the Dragoon’s voice sounded so incredibly sad. The way it spoke of letting go of Tiras was as if it would be killing its own child.  It truly, truly loved Tiras.  Pyrha gave a sigh, half of reluctance- she still did not believe she should be punished with such a task and that Tiras should just rot off for all she cared, but the Dragoon was insisting otherwise and it would be rude to not only go against the Council Master’s orders, but against a Guardian’s as well.

              “Fine.  Tell me what I have to do.”

                 The Council Master sat opposite the two sleeping Priests, hands folded under his chin.  He was more than well aware of just how wrong this could all go, and the feathers adorning Tiras’ body had long since begun to jaundice.  Several other Priests stood by in case the Tiras finally lost control, but Maeve knew for a fact that they would be powerless in the face of a First Priest.  When Tiras lost control- not if, but when- they would all be torn to shreds by the raging winds.  The city he had built would not last either; buildings would be picked up and smashed into one another, smaller structures would simply crumble apart.  It would be a true calamity.  Maeve had heard stories of Curses who had rampaged to such a point that they changed the topography- Curses of Calamity.  Tiras would most definitely fall under this category if Pyrha could not bring him out of himself.  The Council Master’s grip tightened, finally making the worst case decision just as the air in the room began to turn foul.  First is was small wisps and breezes, but then it became clear that the wind was not only picking up, but that it was becoming corrupted.  Several Priests moved into position to attack, but Maeve stood and sounded his cane against the ground.

              “Cease.  Fall back.” With those words, while shooting him wary looks, the Priests fell back behind him.  “Darius!” Maeve shouted.  “An emergency has occurred!”  A wall of the room began to crack- or more precisely, the space in front of the wall rather than the wall itself.  Otherworldly light came pouring out, and a being that was clearly neither human, nor Nocturne, nor Spirit emerged from the opening.  The creature had skin the color of old ash and sunken black eyes with red irises.  On its head, poking out from under neatly slicked black hair were two ram’s horns that curled around pointed ears.  Much of him took the shape of a human, however the bottom half of either of his legs resembled the cloven feet of a deer or a horse, and the tail that emerged from its back was long and hairless like a rat’s.  However, despite all this, the most unusual part of its appearance was that it donned glasses and the almost uniform wear one would expect of a record keeper.  The being adjusted its glasses and spoke.

              “Maeve, I am not some familiar you can summon out of thin air.  How many times do I have to explain that-”

              “Darius, as much as I would love to catch up, we do really have quite the emergency.”  The Council Master motioned to the two sleeping youths, the male of while was clearly starting into the final phases of becoming a Curse.

              “Well fuck…  Can it not be stopped?”

              “An effort is being made by the sleeping Ignatian there, however she may not make it in time, and the Spirit attached to him refuses to sever the connection.”

              “So it’s a Priest that’s going to turn?  Hell Maeve.  Why not just summon the Etherial of Death itself and put us out of our misery?!”

              “He’s not just any Priest, Darius.  He is the Dragoon’s Primae Nocturne- A First Priest.”

              “And just what do you expect me to do against a Cursed First Priest?”

              “Contain it.”

                Pyrha walked down a single lit path in the darkness, passing by faded, dark doors from which disembodied sounds would occasionally exit.  She had to find the memory that Tiras had hidden himself in and draw him out, but that was easier said than done.

              ‘You need to sift through his memories and find the moment he has chosen to relive forever.  When you find him, you must convince him not only to come out, but to calm his curse. Right now he is near to falling over the edge, and once he takes that last step, all of us will be lost.  I can provide you with guidance on where I believe he may have hidden himself, but that is all I can do.  The closer we get, the more he will reject me, so my assistance will not be substantial.’

              The Dragoon’s words stuck with her, however she had no idea how to go about trying to convince him to come back.  She didn’t particularly care if he did, to be honest. As far as she was concerned, he was just a child throwing a tantrum- a human who was trying to be something more than he could be.

              The path turned and lead into a single lit doorway.  The design of it was clearly different from the homes of her people, but looking at it made Pyrha feel like she had arrived at home.

              ‘Open it,’ the Dragoon advised. Pyrha grabbed the handle and held down on the latch, pushing the door in.  Strangely, it opened to a park- or at least what looked like a park; shrubbery and small grasses grew intermittently, but the vast majority of the ground was sand, very little of it solid.  Children rolled around and played with one another, though most notably there was a lack of toys.  Off in the corner she saw a gathering of adults crowded around one small boy who couldn’t have been any older than five.  Feeling drawn to it, Pyrha wiggled her way in to find that the boy was Tiras!  He was very small, but that hair and those eyes definitely belonged to Tiras!  An older gentleman at his side clapped him on the shoulder, and the young Tiras jumped, seeming to panic for a moment.

              “Rejoice!” said the man.  “For today my son, Tiras, has been chosen to take over my duties as Priest to the Great Dragoon!  He will be the next Chief of our people, so be sure to treat him well and the Dragoon will bless us!”

              “What?!” Pyrha gasped.  “But he’s hardly more than a toddler!”  No one in the crowd seemed to respond to her outburst.  Rather, they were cheering for the nervous boy in front of them.  “Why does no one find this odd?  A child can’t bear the responsibilities of Priest! That is why we all fight and train for the honor from the time that we can walk!”

              ‘Primae Nocturne are special, or did you not remember what I told you?’  It was the sisterly voice of her own Master, and the scolding tone made Pyrha calm herself.

              “I do, however this is far too young.”

              ‘He showed a proficiency for magic as soon as he was born,’ the Dragoon replied.  ‘I needed to make it clear to his people that he was a valued existence to be cherished and protected, however my decision may have only made things worse.  You must understand, Phoenix Priestess- Tiras’ people are corrupted. They can think of nothing more than their own self-gain because I have trapped them in a land that has so little. Calamity struck several hundred years earlier and threatened to wipe out their people.  Rather than forsake them, I created a space that could remain untouched, however it has trapped us all at the bottom of the sea.  Their gills are a curse I offered them so that they could remain self-sufficient, one that is completely harmless but only when underwater.’

              “So then Tiras-”

              ‘Truly risked not only his freedom but his life to save you and your Phoenix.  Tell me how that is weak or cowardly.’

              The boy at the center of the crowd smiled as his father patted his head in pride, but Pyrha could say for certain that this was the only time she’d ever truly seen Tiras smile.

                “You do realize that I am not combat oriented, correct?” Darius hissed as they placed up barrier after barrier to try and contain the coming storm. “I mean really, do I look like some kind of all-powerful being to you?  I’m not an Etherial, Maeve!”

              “Nope, but you’re the next best thing,” the Council Master replied, clapping the Dae on the back.  “Besides, you made an interdimensional library that eats people.  Don’t tell me you can’t hold off a Curse.”

              “Weren’t you just saying that this is no ordinary curse?!  Oh if I ever meet my parents I swear I am going to feed you to them!”

              “You wouldn’t.  You’d need a new conversation partner.”

              “Well you look like you’re about to kick the bucket anyways!”

              A tap came on the Council Master’s shoulder.

              “Council Master, just what is this creature?”

              “Oh, right, my apologies,” Maeve said, turning to the throng of confused Priests.  “This is Darius- Dae of Knowledge and Space.”

              Several of the Priests scrambled back.  A Dae was not only an incredibly rare existence, but a powerful one- they were the children of Gods and Spirits and were considered the most powerful beings in the universe that had a physical body.  They were also often moody and had a tendency to smite or play with anything that got in their way or caught their attention.

              “No need to worry so much.  Darius is one of the more accommodating Dae, unlike that one that went around causing wars and making little girls shoot death beams from their eyes.  Darius created the Bibliothecam Mortuo, the Library of Lost Knowledge-”

              “Of which I am seriously considering revoking your privileges to!”

              Maeve gave a chuckle.

              “See, perfectly accommodating, although I will admit to being the only human that has said privileges.”

              “Maeve, stop showing off to your underlings and get them to help!”

              “That being said, who here has confidence in constructing barriers of the magical variety?”

TBA

[prismaticate]

i couldn't decide where to put this because i feel like it has to go somewhere people could see it or it would defeat the purpose but i don't particularly Want people to see it so it's going on tumblr because not many of my friends use it these days

i almost don't want to talk about this because as soon as the words leave my brain and enter some concrete medium they will become real. i have this notion in my head that if they stay in my head i can pretend they never existed and erase them. but i know consciously that that's wrong and unhealthy, so here goes.

i think i might have depression.

i was going to write initially that i don't feel like i do, because i haven't really, not in the past. even having expelled the stereotypes from my brain and having a grasp of what it's really like, i went "no, that's not me." i've never really experienced any sort of feeling that i would have consciously identified as "depression" before, until about sixty seconds ago, but i'll come back to that. i still derive enjoyment from a lot of things, i have fun with my friends, i pursue hobbies (occasionally)... i always imagined depression to be a sort of soul-crushing, oppressive listlessness or despair; not all the time of course, but at its worst; and even when i was particularly understimulated or otherwise at a low point i never really felt that. i never felt "depressed." just sort of..."hollow."

while attempting to sort through my feelings and work out the truth behind them so i could write this post, i got that feeling. i got the soul-crushing, oppressive, passive despair that you can feel physically, in your bones, weighing on your shoulders, resting on your back. the reasons for it are probably more than i can cover in this post, and that fact — that there are reasons — leads me to believe that maybe i don't have depression in general, maybe i'm just depressed right now. but moving past that...

i get intrusive thoughts every now and then. they never really deal with self-harm, like some people's, but more with harming others, or benefitting in some way from their suffering, or otherwise doing horrible things, as if my subconscious is mocking me, saying "see, you're not a good person. no 'good person' would ever have thoughts like these." i'm usually pretty decent at discarding them and moving on.

tonight marks the first substantial, lingering intrusive thought i've ever had about suicide. i looked in the mirror and saw my own dull, listless eyes and i thought about what would happen if there was a gun on the counter, in my hand in that moment. i thought about how easy it would be to just...stop existing, which i suppose is in a way the natural evolution from intrusive thoughts about how easy it would be to make something *else* stop existing. i thought about what it would be like, and what would come after, for me and for everyone else in my life. and i thought about, if i had the barrel to my forehead and my finger on the trigger, whether or not i would actually do it. and for the first time in my life, the answer was not 100% no.

i've been thinking a lot since then. i can say with certainty that i don't want to die, or to stop existing, not in any capacity — as a matter of fact, in those hypothetical games/questions of "if you could pick one superpower what would it be," immortality is usually one of my top contenders, despite the numerous, extreme downsides (which i have contemplated extensively in the past).

it's just that i really hate my current lifestyle. more than i could ever put into words, whether on a screen or out loud. i hate it with my entire being, from the depths of my soul. and i don't know how to change it, or how to *begin* changing it. how could i when i don't even know what i want? i don't know what kind of life i would like, only that i hate this one. it feels insubstantial. aimless. meaningless. i have no purpose. i have no reason to exist. if i vanished overnight, people would notice, sure, and when they realized i was gone for good they'd mourn, sure, but the world would not change in any way. their lives, for the most part, would not change. everything would go on.

i've been grappling with the concept of "purpose" and "meaning" a lot lately, and the way in which it's both connected and disconnected from our circumstances — a recurring player in these lines of thought has been the *isekai genre* and the escapism that it offers, of all things — and i've yet to come up with a satisfactory answer. i have not, pardon the irony, derived a meaning from it yet, a "lesson" to take away, so to speak. this and my next point are things i may expand on in follow-up posts, we'll see.

i want to change. i want to become a different, stronger, better person and create a life for myself that i enjoy. i want to find, or make myself a purpose, a reason to exist. i'm trying to do that. but when you have no direction, no clearly defined start or end points, and no guide posts or landmarks to follow, it's hard to move, and hard to *tell* if you're moving in the first place.

[quotespicture]

https://quoteswithpicture.com/i-dont-give-a-fuck-about-being-like-other-people-because-im-too-busy-loving-who-i-am/

I Don’t Give A Fuck About Being Like Other People Because I’m Too Busy Loving Who I Am

For the longest time, I’ve struggled to love myself.

I struggled with being good enough for the longest time. The worst thing that someone’s ever said to me was something along the lines of, “No one will ever want to marry someone like you, no one will want to hire you, and no one will ever think you’re up to their standards.” And even when nobody else was that direct, I could feel inferior with the ways I would get rejected from job applications, passed over for promotions (which I swear to this day was due to my extreme introversion), and compared to other women who met social standards that I struggled to meet, especially those with charisma that I clearly lacked.

These words and feelings would always bring out the worst in me, because I’d always be jealous of the women who lead lives that I didn’t even want, but somehow, I still suffered from feelings of inferiority and the fear that nobody would like me for who I was—I thought I was too boring, too plain, too quiet, too childish, and too unintelligent for anyone to love.

But in my most ideal and authentic state, I don’t give a fuck about looking like a femme fatale in kitten heels and red lipstick. I don’t give a fuck about smiling all the time. I don’t give a fuck about throwing the perfect Instagrammable bachelorette parties, treating friends to brunch, or traveling around the world, looking all happy and carefree. I don’t give a fuck about having a wardrobe full of professional brand-name outfits for every day of the year. I don’t give a fuck if people don’t like the bare-faced selfies I take. I don’t give a fuck about not having an expensive lingerie set because I feel most comfortable in cotton undergarments. I don’t give a fuck if I don’t have a toned belly. I don’t give a fuck if my face isn’t appealing enough to be on a beauty campaign. I don’t give a fuck about pleasing men with my body, and I hate it when anyone insinuates that I’m a slut-shamer just because I feel most comfortable in my own skin when I dress modestly and only want to be loyal to one man who sees me as a best friend first and a lover second. I’ve always been the odd one out, and deep down, I love it… but somewhere along the way, I lost touch with who I truly was and tried too hard to prove that I could be significant, powerful, physically appealing, and social too. I’ve been labeled as the quiet and boring girl, and when I’m alone, I’m fine with that, but one comparison and offhand remark can lead me down a rabbit hole of self-loathing, anguish, and guilt for not being worthy enough.

During my early twenties, I had crushes on guys who made me feel inferior because they’d always compliment other women and celebrities who were the epitome of power, seduction, and glamour. I wasn’t even close to that—I was just a little nobody who put on eyeliner the way a two-year-old scribbled with a crayon. In college, I felt extremely inferior to women who had it easier than me when it came to college majors and landed highly coveted marketing jobs with hefty salaries, while I struggled to make it in a male-dominated field and failed miserably at it because I wasn’t a scientist or a techie (I was an artist through and through). And the worst thought I’ve had that held me back for the longest time was, “If I can’t prove that I can soldier through what I don’t like to do, what makes me deserving of going after what I love?” I thought I didn’t deserve anything good in life because I hadn’t proven myself worthy yet.

But I’ve gotten to the point where I’m so fed up with ruminating over everything that has hurt me in the past and made me feel inferior to literally everyone I know. Because in my ideal life, I shouldn’t even care to meet standards that aren’t even my own. I don’t want to have a scarcity mindset and pursue things for the purpose of proving that I can be enough, as if I’m still not enough, and I have to win this unspoken competition of becoming better than others in every way possible, according to society’s cutthroat standards. During my darkest times, I’ve had to disappear for a while and lie in the dark alone to ask what it is that I really and truly want for myself.

I want to live an authentic life, even if it looks super boring and unglamorous to others, because that is what would make me most happy. I want to be free from the kind of consumerism that causes me to overcompensate for my inadequacies. I want to be free from the fear that I can’t speak my mind on things that actually matter to me.

I’m a minimalist, not because I’m a cheapskate, but rather, it’s the only lifestyle that feels genuine to me and lifts a burdensome weight off my shoulders. I can cook the same meals every day and be satisfied. I can wear the same outfit that other people find boring, but dressing to look good for others was never a top priority anyway. I don’t need to have a picture-perfect living space or host dinner parties for friends (because I don’t even have many friends). I don’t need to impress people with anything I do, and I don’t have to do it all, especially when I don’t care about doing most things that others are doing. It took many years to get to that point, and sometimes FOMO affects me, but I always come back to the center of my soul, which is filled with inner peace, simple joys, and radical self-acceptance. I’m an extreme introvert. I lead a slow, quiet life. I don’t travel at all and don’t even have plans for doing so. I’ve given up on so many dreams and narrowed down my list of goals just so I can have time to sit through prolonged periods of stillness and take care of my mental health. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a marketable or magazine-worthy life, but it never was something I wanted to attain, because I truly am happier with fewer but more substantial things that are kinder to my soul and gentler on my heart.

Recently, a fellow writer sent me such a kind message and complimented me for being thoughtful and that I should be proud that I’m introverted. That really lifted a weight off my shoulders, because even when I’m not bubbly or charming, I can still affect people’s lives positively with my words and talk about things I care about.

Right now, I’m still in the process of mastering the art of loving who I am without any conditions. And even after I’ve written the book of my dreams and poured my soul into it, I don’t need it to validate my talent, work ethic, or uniqueness, because even without big accomplishments, I am enough as I am. No longer do I feel pressured to go after what I don’t want. No longer do I want to achieve things that aren’t really right for me. No longer do I want to be praised by everyone if that means I haven’t first loved myself.

And right now, all that truly matters to me is showing up in life the way I am and never accepting anything that makes me feel like I can’t.

[maynardlewis]

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