#physically he had become too handsome and too virile

[jerrylewis-thekid]

Why?

Why??

Why???

[jerrylewis-thekid]

Jerry changed his facial features constantly, he almost never looked the same. The Jerry of the 1940s had an angelic, delicate, feminine appearance. But I don't think he felt beautiful. He was a lonely boy. With the success of Martin & Lewis with the thousands of girls and women who loved him he began, perhaps, to believe more in his physical appearance. With the money he earned he could dress better (and he was damn modern in how he dressed too). And then, yes… little by little he became more and more handsome, sexier, more masculine. "The Monkey", "The Kid" were only on the stage. Dean did the double reverse route. It was bad (to me it was bad) before the nose job. Thanks to Jerry who created the character of "Dean Martin the Adonis", he became handsome and sexy. Dean was sexy in the early 50s. After the breakup, I don't know what happened to him, he quickly lost his (fake, constructed?) virility. In the late '60s, early '70s Jerry was at the height of his beauty, while Dean was becoming, physically, older and frankly ridiculous (that blonde hair was awful). Where did the Adonis go? lLike Jerry getting more and more handsome to make Dean jealous (do you see what you wanted to lose? I'm more beautiful and sexier than Jeanne or any other woman you might know). Dean was only handsome when he was next to Jerry because he knew that then Jerry would love him more and more and desire him physically. But desired AS A MAN OR AS A WOMAN? After that he no longer had any interest in looking good. He wanted to be beautiful just for Jerry. Then came his personal success and that's where the real problems began. In "Living it up" they were both beautiful. Jerry, a little sexier than Dean (I always thought Jerry was better looking and sexier than Dean).

Can we talked about Jerry little glow up in 1953-1954 I don’t know if it’s the hair or something but he’s more sexy I think. Like in Money from home and Living it up. What do you think?

[kamuisthoughts]

The Actual Rant:

I’m going to begin by saying that I think the ABO dynamic is interesting.

That being said I’ve noticed some recurring and very disturbing themes that are attached to this type of AU, regardless of what fandom you’re reading in. It makes sense to me that a universe where people have secondary genders and are more susceptible to animalistic instincts would have different types of societal issues. This being the disturbing themes I mentioned. The disregard of rape, the gender oppression, the objectification of certain genders, and various forms of dysphoria.

Obviously these themes are extremely dark and unsettling, but what’s worse is how the people that take it upon themselves to write about these things romanticize these horrific issues. Using them as a tool to build a parallel world that would cause the reader to think or reflect on our own society is one thing. That’s what I would like to read. But instead I come across these ABO AUs and find authors downplaying these abominable problems, making it seem as if it’s okay to have these sorts of things happening.

If you tell me beforehand what you intend to do okay, I can just avoid that.

But anyway there’s a difference between building a world with dark elements like these and presenting it as something that is truly disgraceful, but many people in the world do not care or fear fighting against it, and creating a world where it’s obvious that the writer is fetishizing these elements. You can completely change the tone of something depending on how issues are presented, how the characters react to their circumstances.

I hate to see rape happen in a story. I honestly feel it’s the most unforgivable, egregious thing you could do to a person beside murdering them. It’s a form of torture, and I honestly believe this, so it turns my stomach to see people writing stories where characters go through this awful thing, sometimes repeatedly and it’s not accurately addressed. There’s rarely lasting trauma if any. They just kind of take it, they don’t fight, they might even accept it just because the character doing it to them is objectively attractive and that is nauseating to me.

I also hate to see kidnappings and forced marriages in this type of AU, where the author tells you the main character is a “BAMF” or “Strong” individual but this is never actually displayed. Not mentally which I often respect to see in characters and not even hinted at physically either. They’ll maybe have a sassy mouth but still won’t really do anything when their abuser is hurting them. And this is usually moot since the main character oftentimes just simpers for their alpha abuser in the end. They’ll either be too scared to continue to mouth off or be too enamored by the alpha’s physical appearance and scent.

I also noticed Stockholm Syndrome is really common in these stories as well, (should the author actually deign to touch upon the immense trauma rape would cause a person), despite how rare this condition is in reality. This I find maddening. Now, I understand sometimes reality is so painful that someone needs to escape it through delusion so that they can function somewhat coherently. But the fact that there are so many stories where a character is kidnapped, ripped from their life, forced to mate with someone who doesn’t respect them as a fellow human being, raped, forcefully impregnated, and then somehow still falls in love with their abuser is utterly repulsive.

And the thing that really upsets me is the fact that I deliberately exclude tags in my search that denote rape/non-con, underaged, and major character death yet still I come across stories where these things are mentioned. Are happening. They’ll be in the story but not in a story’s tags and just glossed over. I’m not sure if this is deliberate or if some of the writers just don’t understand the magnitude of the themes they’re pushing but regardless I find this unacceptable.

If someone says no and you stick your penis inside of them anyway, that is rape. If you lull them into a false sense of security due to pheromones after they’ve said no and have sex with them, that is rape. If they give up fighting because they know it’s hopeless it’s still rape. I don’t care how physically desirable you are, or how good you smell, or if you feel it’s your “right” to take the other person because you managed to pin them down and you’re stronger. They said no, and even if they didn’t say “no” they didn't say yes .

If someone didn’t say they accepted your advances, that is not dubious consent. That. Is. Rape . And women can be rapists too. Let’s stop pretending that’s not a thing and that it’s not just as bad no matter what gender the attacker is. Can we not try to sugarcoat the horrible things people are writing about and call it “dubious” so people can feel better about romanticizing sexual abuse and getting off on it? Because even if you don’t call a spade a spade it’s still a damn spade.

Now let’s talk about fetishes. I hate when male characters are forcefully feminized when they don’t want to be. Like seriously, a male omega in this type of ABO story could literally say, “I’m a man, don’t call me a wife or a mother” and the other characters will just brush it off, they won’t even address it. They’ll continue to label him incorrectly, continue to treat him in ways that make him uncomfortable, and eventually he’ll just stop getting upset or annoyed and go along with it. This is NOT okay. This happens when a writer likes writing about feminine men.

There’s nothing wrong with a feminine man, that’s not what I’m saying. What’s wrong is when a man is overly sexualized because of his physical appearance and incorrectly labeled by others despite him stating what he identifies as. If you want to write about a gender fluid male omega, do that! Do not write about a male omega who identifies as male and call him a wife just because he can give birth. He is still a husband. He is a man and the other characters should be respecting that.

Then we have the fetishizing of birth or breeding in these AUs. This element of this AU has always been so creepy to me. (And I’m talking about FORCED breeding. Edit added because I didn’t specify this at first).

Omegas in these AUs are seen as the lowest of the low because they have heats, are softhearted, physically weaker, and motherly. Yet despite being chained to the bottom of the societal hierarchy they are objectified by other secondary genders. They are desired just enough for alphas and betas to want to breed with but they aren’t worth equal rights such as choosing their own “mate”, their job, or even walking down the street without fear of being forcefully mounted.

Seldom do I see this issue actually portrayed as an issue. The omegas in the story bat their eyelashes at alphas, and even manipulate them because they know that they are objectified. They aim to get claimed by “strong” and “virile” alphas and to have “beautiful pups”. Like, what?

But okay, I can see that.

You live a certain way you can get used to almost anything, but the fact that it’s rarely more than the main character who wants for more is astounding to me. I guess this is a writer’s way of hammering home how different and “before their time” they want their main character to be but it just comes off as forced, and the main character becomes a novelty. Alphas just want the main even more because they want to break them so they can force them into the role of a “good little omega”.

It angers me to see this type of world building with no consequences. There’s no simmering rage at the lack of justice and equality, there’s no conflict. It’s just, “omegas are cute and sexy and they smell nice”. This just makes all of the characters seem like morally bankrupt sex addicts who’re all some form of insane and I can’t stand it. But I’ll digress.

The true reason I decided to write this rant?

A story.

Yes, I came across a story and for some reason despite the harmless looking tags and my knowledge of how misleading this AU can be I clicked on it. I just wanted to see if I was being too harsh on the ABO AU, if someone could write a story in this type of universe that I could actually bear to read that wasn’t extremely hard to find. (Most of the fics in this AU I come across are the really dark ones).

So, I tried to read an ABO AU for MHA, and I'll tell you now I couldn’t even get beyond the fourth chapter. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Izuku was of course a rare male omega, born in a fantasy world where All Might bestowed upon him the powerful magic of One For All and then dipped. Of course despite having this power Izuku was still a weakling, even though the author tried to say he was strong willed and “unlike most omegas”.

Izuku had to hide his secondary gender. He lived as a quirkless beta with his mother. One day he stumbled across Katsuki, who declared Izuku his “true mate”. Despite Izuku saying he didn’t want to mate with him, Izuku was abducted and forced to be with him simply because it was what Katsuki wanted.

Izuku repeatedly said he didn’t want to be there, that he didn't want to be with this literal stranger, and that he didn’t have any desire to be a baby factory for him but was of course ignored. Long story short Katsuki got his way and Izuku eventually was down with it. Because Katsuki was handsome, well built, and smelled nice Izuku didn’t even bother to stay angry at the injustice of his own situation.

This is one of the many stories in this type of AU I personally find problematic. I don’t care if people write these fics, I just wish they were more responsible about it.

I’ve seen stories where alphas threaten to kill an omega’s family or the omega themselves to force them to mate with them, and are forced to comply. Instead of acknowledging how horrible this is the other characters just sort of treat it like the omega is misbehaving and that they’re cute for being “annoyed”. Like, what? Literally what the fuck. And this is sometimes never brought up again.

Alphas could burn down a whole village, slaughter everyone and take the omegas as sex slaves and still in certain stories this could be romanticized. I can’t get with that. Especially not when the victims aren’t even upset for more than a few days. What the heck!? That was your family!

But what really makes me uncomfortable? When an author makes sure the reader is aware of the fact that an abuser is extremely physically attractive so that people will be less inclined to be disgusted by their atrocious behavior and mentality.

I get it.

Sometimes the inevitable fall is due to true mates and all that. But at the same time, that is absolute bullshit. I wouldn’t give a damn if you were Jesus Christ himself, if you threaten to kill my family, or me, DO these things, disregard my feelings because of what you want and what you have to gain I am not giving you the time of day. Or at the very least if I have no choice I’m gonna utterly despise the person harming me. Come on!

True mates/Soulmates could be so freaking cute. It HAS been. I’ve seen it. There’s good fics out there, I just wish there was more of a selection where certain tropes are implemented in a way that isn’t toxic.

I don’t care how objectively attractive someone appears. I don’t care what “fate” says or what “instincts” denote. What reason do some of these characters have to love their abusers? Let alone be attracted to them? Especially if they never get a heartfelt apology and the alpha doesn’t bother to change significantly to be a tolerable human being. But okay, ABO instincts. Lack of control. I know, okay? But come on, can we switch it up a bit?

Out of morbid curiosity, sometimes when I come across stories I just can’t read because the Non-con is there but it’s not portrayed as traumatic and the author doesn’t even TELL you it’s in there... out of some masochistic need to punish myself I scroll down to read some of the comments and no one, I mean no one addresses how skewed and warped the themes in these stories are. The readers eat it up. And it’s honestly sickening.

But you know what? That’s kind of a lie. Some people do complain but they’re usually just straight up hateful flames and I don’t support those. I wish people could be more constructive when commenting on people’s work.

But anyway, since it was the MHA ABO AU fic that set me off I’ll just continue to use Izuku and Katsuki as examples for my griping. With Izuku as the omega and Katsuki as the alpha.

Many fanfic writers set up their worlds as a means to impregnate Izuku. That’s what I believe. Not ALL fanfic writers that write about this AU do this. SOME of them do! And I’m not saying this is always problematic, but it is when they put certain elements together because they want to write about BakuDeku in a sexual form and don’t bother to note how dark the story elements they’re implementing actually are.

I’m not sure if this is because some of them don’t understand how serious and damaging these things are and can be (rape/sexual coercion/forced pregnancy) or if they just don’t care and find them cute and sexy.

Either way, the things some authors have alpha Katsuki pulling on Izuku are wrong and downright perverted.

Now, I’m not opposed to smut. Sometimes I read stories with smut, that doesn’t bother me. Sex is a natural thing and people do it to show how much they like someone, or even just because it feels good. Whatever, that’s fine. But putting two characters together and saying “this is how it is because fate and forget gradually becoming attracted because I want that sexual tension now!” is something I find greatly unsettling.

If I could see this idea displayed differently maybe I could be equally disturbed, but could grow to accept Izuku and Katsuki (or whoever are the focus of the story) as a pair. Why? Because if the things the alpha is doing are horrible they should be acknowledged as horrible.

A lot of stories could be more interesting to me if the author wrote the things I mentioned above as they actually are, despicable. Instead things a lot of the times are sugar coated, treated as a joke, or downright wrongfully sexualized. Sometimes all three at once! A lot of these fics could have been something I could stomach if treated soundly. Say, Katsuki for example decided Izuku belonged to him and he forcefully mated with him, not allowing Izuku to be with anyone else without serious backlash. If he began to realize that his outlook on life was entitled and morally bankrupt I could totally get with that!

The author in this fake scenario could take the steps to better Katsuki as a person. Izuku of course should rightfully hate this man but could grudgingly begin to see and acknowledge Katsuki trying to change for the better. Then when Izuku manages to let go of his anger for his own sake, (not Katsuki’s) I could probably accept him beginning to notice Katsuki romantically. NOT sexually.

Now if Izuku just has to notice Katsuki’s physical body from the beginning and finds him irresistible because you know, ABO AU instincts and all that jazz—but hated this about himself, the juxtaposition of physical desire but mental and emotional disdain could be fascinating, engaging. It would make Izuku seem more like a person in these stories and less like the idea of a mentally strong omega. (Again, not saying all ABO fics lack good storytelling or compelling characters or any of that).

I could accept this eventual forgiveness and romance scenario because it could be amazing storytelling wise. Allowing the reader to experience a range of emotions due to world building, characterization, character growth, and plot line.

But anyway, I’m not trying to bash the specific story I used as an example above. I realize a lot of people love it and a lot of my language was crude and even rude but I just felt the need to express exactly what I was feeling, and above is what I felt. (I had to cut some things because it was way too obvious which fanfiction set me off and that’s not what I wanted. Didn’t want to throw shade, just wanted to prove a point).

If people want to read those types of stories that’s fine, at least they’re not going out into the world and doing what they’re reading about. Or at least I hope that’s the case.

But anyway, if people are going to read these types of things I think the reality of the content should be aptly acknowledged. No rose colored glasses, because that just makes it so wrong. And no, I’m not talking about being partial to any kind of kinks. I’m talking about a type of ABO fic that is problematic for me. I wrote a whole damn rant, if you can’t glean what I’m saying here I freaking give up.

But more presently, I guess it really comes down to what you prefer. Other people like things that come off as more sensual and carefree.

Personally I make it a point not to read those types of fanfictions because it’s just not my preference. I prefer to read things with dark world building with what I perceive as realistic consequences and real justice. Or maybe just downright cold blooded revenge sometimes. That’s nice too. Everyone is different, and I think I’ve just become frustrated because I’m not finding many stories like that in this AU.

That being said I’ve decided to write a story that I could read. A few, actually. You know what they say, “if you don’t do it, nobody else will”.

[quaememinisse]

Apple Of His Eye

Author’s note: I know no one reads anything I post here, but I’ll tell you about it anyway. This is a little vignette based off of my story Secrets Aren’t for Keeping (click for the story). I started watching The Falcon and The Winter Soldier a few days ago with my boyfriend. I love my boyfriend, and he is a sex god. I’ve never cum so much in my life, on God, as they say. I still write sexual stories because that’s my thing and it makes me happy and turns me on. Hopefully it does the same for you as a reader? Idk ‘cause NO ONE reads anything I write here!   ¯\_(-_-)_/¯

Warnings: dirty talk, cum fetish, impregnation, dubious consent, smut

Theme: Romance, Hurt/Comfort

          "God, I wanna cum inside of you, baby," Bucky explains, gazing down at her darkly. Utter lust clouds his vision. He often starts to talk dirty to her the closer he is to climax. 

          "No," Cherise lifts her head to pressure his lower abdomen where he thrusts roughly between her thighs. He moves her hands away, sighing with frustration. 

          "Why, Cherry? Aren't we trying to have a baby?" He slows his motions, anticipating her answer, cocking a chestnut eyebrow. She sighs.

          "I just don't want you to tonight."

Bucky frowns, picking up the pace to get her moaning again. 

          "Don't cum inside me," she breathes, pressing on his abs again as she begins to feel an orgasm approaching.

          "Let me..." Bucky exhales, losing rhythm slightly. She knew he was going to cum.

She shoves at him lightly.

          "Not inside me—"

          "Let me..."

Cherise's orgasm causes her to pause, and Bucky to moan with finality. To Bucky, it always felt good inside her, especially when she would orgasm. Her body spasms rhythmically around him, milking him. He had no choice but to ejaculate. Cherise felt a thick, wet spurt. It was more of a powerful splatter, coating her cervix. It was very hot in temperature, almost uncomfortable. Her eyes widen and she gasps. She could always tell when Bucky came inside of her. The sensation is unmistakable. His loads were always massive and filled her completely. She struggles immediately to start to position herself out from under him. But his weight pins her still as his body writhes in pleasure. As the series of powerful, hot, streams of pressure erupt inside her consecutively, Cherise gazes up at Bucky, his oceanic eyes rolling back and closing. She always finds this part to be such a turn on, despite not having wanted this ending tonight. The soldier would always grow weak all over when he came, falter such that even his bionic arm trembles and whirs mechanically.

          He wanted her to take all of it. He wanted to complete the mission. He always did eventually. Bucky's sperm was otherworldly. Cherise could never understand how there was always so much of it, yet she was still not getting pregnant. She glares up at him and he looks confused.

          "Don't you want that baby? ...Hmmm?" he inquires, cocking his eyebrow again, and this time his head, too. This expression irritates Cherise. It almost feels like he’s talking down to her. As if she doesn’t already know they should be having a lot of sex this week if they stand another chance of trying to conceive. If she hadn’t caught a glimpse of Bucky pulling her phone out of her purse earlier in the week to see where she was in her cycle (she used an app on her phone and diligently tracked her periods), she would have peacefully been sleeping by now. She dreads the coming early morning, knowing she has to catch up with Dr. Cho on some new projects. She moans, clutching at his taut pecks. Bucky's lips on her face cause Cherise to smile, regardless.

          "You're fertile today, remember? I had to," he breathes, clutching the back of her neck in his flesh hand, kissing her forehead lovingly. 

          "Try to stay on your back for a while. It’s worth a try," Bucky prompts when she tries to get up. He hadn't even pulled out yet, and his cum had only just begun to leak out a bit. 

          "I wanna get the wipes—"

          "No—baby, yuh gotta let my sperm travel. Relax for a bit, wouldja?" Bucky presses desperately. She sighs. He physically stops her when she tries to rise again.

          "Hey, I mean it. Maybe this is why you're not getting pregnant, Cherise.” She looks away from him, closing her eyes. He sounds irritated when he speaks again, “You always wanna go grab the wipes right after we finish." Cherise acknowledges this information by stopping her struggle against his bionic arm. He wasn't planning on letting her up. 

          "...Do you not like it when I cum inside you?"

          "I didn't say that."

Bucky sighs, wondering what he has done wrong. Lately, he feels as if he’s constantly bothering his wife. She has become less patient, less interested in making love. It’s unlike her.

           “You’re acting like it,” he explains.

           “…James…”

It had felt good, but she didn't like going to bed full of cum every night. She was tired of sex becoming more of a mandatory experience rather than for pleasure. She was tired of not getting pregnant when she and Bucky fucked like rabbits since the moment they got together. Bucky’s apologetic and confused expression makes her feel badly suddenly. He sighs. 

          "Do you not want to get pregnant?" he asks, "What's wrong?"

          “I didn’t say that, James.”

          “You just told me not to cum inside of you. You haven’t requested that since we decided to try and have a baby.”

          “Well, you did, didn’t you?”

Anger surfaces on his handsome face, the jaw tightening as he bites his teeth hard at the back of his mouth.

           “Don’t speak to me like that. What is the matter with you this week?” Bucky asks sincerely, meeting her eyes and trying to read them. She looks away from him, pushing up on his chest. He doesn’t budge. He removes her pressing hands away from his torso where they had wandered.

           “Can you respect me and just talk to me?” Bucky asks, cocking his head to the side.

          "...I'm frustrated. It’s not working, Bucky.”

He cups her chin, a lot less angry now.

          “It will…we just have to keep trying—”

          “It’s been six months, James. It’s not working! …I’m scared."

          "Scared? Why?"

Cherise closes her eyes. Bucky pulls out at last, but remains atop her, tresses of his thick brown hair falling free of the bun at the back of his head and dusting his chiseled cheek.

          "Scared of what, baby? I'm not gonna let anything happen to you—"

          "What if I just can’t get pregnant?"

Her eyes water. The soldier reaches for tissues on the night stand, keeping Cherise resting beneath his body. He wasn’t kidding about having her lie on her back after sex. Although she knew and had meant to inform him that this added no benefit in attempts to conceive, she gave up momentarily. A few tears escape Cherise’s eyes and he dabs them away, kissing her forehead repeatedly.

           “We went to the doctor last month, babe. They said things can take time and we should keep trying for a few more months…it’ll be okay, Cherry,” Bucky promises. She shakes her head.

           “You don’t know that. You can’t know that. What if I’m just infertile?”

           “Don’t say that, Cherry. We’ll figure it out.” He watches her close her eyes and begin to cry audibly. He sits up and pulls her into his arms. He was beginning to feel like a failure deep down, and it rubbed him the wrong way. Badly. It was part of the reason he would grab Cherise as soon as she got home at the end of the day. He wanted to know he was still virile. In that moment, he finds himself not feeling so. He had never tried to get a woman pregnant before, though he’d had many women. He couldn’t figure out why it was so difficult. He figured all he had to do was not pull out and it would simply happen. Easier said than done. He had seen Cherise cry over this a few times in the past month, but it becomes clearer to him now how much she’s struggling. The previous weekend, she had woken up crying in bed, and he had turned on the lamp to figure out what was wrong. She had recited to him in vivid and precise detail a dream she’d had about having twin girls. How happy it made her. The tears were for joy that something like that could happen, and also for pain, the fear that the crib they had set up in one of their house’s spare bedrooms may never be full.

           “I’m sorry,” Bucky says, meaning it. He was sure it was his fault. There were going to be lifelong effects from the serum Hydra had given him all those years ago. He figured it must have affected his fertility, too. They share silence for a moment. Bucky’s warm chest against Cherise’s ear has a calming effect. She stops crying shortly.

           “It’s just…I’m getting impatient. And I’m sore because we have sex so much.”

           “You’re sore? You shoulda told me,” Bucky explains, looking into her eyes apologetically. He was naturally horny every day. He often woke up like that for as long as he could possibly remember. Cherise’s libido matched his during the right phases of her cycle, but when he’d approached her after she showered and pulled off her robe, he could tell she wasn’t really in the mood tonight. It took coaxing, but he had managed to get her turned on enough to do the deed.

           “I do want a baby, James…it’s frustrating to me,” she admits.

           “I’m getting a little frustrated, too, doll. But I think we should keep trying naturally for a few more months. If you’re not pregnant by Christmas, then maybe we could try IVF—”

           “Do you know how much that would cost?”

Bucky sighs, “Money isn’t a factor, Cherry. You know I have the money from the VA, and what you make working for the Avengers, it wouldn’t be—”

           “I just don’t know if I could go through something like that,” Cherise explains, her voice breaking again.

           “Please don’t cry, babe,” Bucky says sweetly, kissing her forehead more, but she starts, and his heart shatters.

           “If we tried IVF and it still didn’t work—”

           “You gotta stop thinkin’ like that, doll. You’re stressing yourself out real bad…maybe that’s why we’re having so much trouble.”

Cherise shakes her head, not wanting to accept that maybe he’s right. Cherise rarely relaxed. She was always working. If she wasn’t working, she was working out. She liked to be a productive person and rarely ever even took time off.

           “I’ve been wanting you to take it easy on yourself. Stress can really mess with your hormones and your body.”

           “…I don’t know what to do with myself, James.”

He reaches for another tissue and she blows her nose.

           “Please, Cherry, take some time off. You know we can afford it. You don’t gotta be killing yourself with work.”

           “I know…but I’m used to being a hard worker.”

           “You don’t gotta do that, baby. ‘Cause I’m right here.”

Bucky’s hands rubbing her lower back and shoulders cause her to calm down some more. A wetness presents around her bottom and she pulls the covers back to find she and Bucky have made a mess of the sheets. She blushes furiously as Bucky’s eyes follow hers.

           “I’m sorry,” he says, “I just thought it’d be a good time to try,” he explains, gazing over at their calendar on the wall where Cherise started to write a giant star on the days she was supposed to be ovulating. Bucky checked the calendar religiously since she started doing it, peeking at her fertility app a few times a week on top of that. He stands up to grab the baby wipes she kept on the dresser. Cherise casually hands him three before tending to herself. They clean themselves in silence.

           “Have you ever thought about adoption?” Cherise asks. Bucky sits in front of her in bed. He gazes down, his eyebrows clenching, his hands massaging her lower back deeply.

           “It hasn’t really crossed my mind…I want you to have my baby,” he explains. Her heart nearly explodes at the desperation, the longing in his eyes and voice.

           “I—I want it to be ours,” Bucky explains, gripping her hips very tightly suddenly. A moment passes where she finds herself looking up at him. Bucky was territorial of her a lot of the time. He wanted her to be his in every way possible. Down to planting a part of himself within her and watching it grow. Cherise begins to understand how important it is for him to impregnate her himself. He wanted to feel like a man. It would make him feel in tune with his masculinity. It would make him feel as though he’d finally done something good in the past century.

           “I want that, too,” Cherise says dreamily, breathlessly. She kisses Bucky with meaning. His grin against her lips makes her happy.

           “So, speak to your supervisor. Tell them you need to take a sabbatical. We could even just…disappear somewhere nice. Just you and me, Cherry,” Bucky adds, his eyes wide suddenly, excited, his mechanical hand clutching her ankle, “Imagine how un-stressed you’d feel on an uncharted island. Huh, babe?” His arm whirs excitedly. He grins down at her and she nods.

           “Yeah, we could find a place…take a quinjet…I know the team wouldn’t mind. Hell, they’ll even help us find some nice remote place. Maybe just somethin’ like what Barton got for his family. For us. For our son, when you finally get pregnant with him.” The words spilling out of Bucky’s mouth sound like paradise to her. She traces her index and middle fingers down his mechanical arm.

           “Please, Cherise. Just take some time off. It’ll do you some good. It’ll do us some good. I know this is frustrating, and I don’t want us to turn against each other.”

Cherise starts to wonder if maybe she just didn’t listen to her husband often and well enough. He had asked her a few times in the past month to take a vacation. Even if it just meant that they’d stay home together. Bucky hated that many mornings, he would wake up to find Cherise already gone to work, and he himself was getting up as early as 5:30 in the morning to go and teach fitness classes to veterans, the side job he was passionate about doing even though he was technically retired.

           “I don’t know if I want to go anywhere too far…”

           “Why not?” Bucky asks.

           “There’s so much to do—”

           “This is what I’m talking about, baby…you’re always working yourself insane.”

She knows he’s right.

           “Tell me how to get you to relax. Tell me how,” Bucky begs. She realizes that right now, he wants to have a child more than she does. He rarely begged her to do anything.

           “I don’t know, babe. I’m just very type A,” Cherise explains.

           “Boy, I know that,” he explains.

           “What if I’m just broken?” Cherise asks, her voice breaking again. Bucky clutches her face, shaking his head.

           “No,” he whispers, “That’s not true. Don’t say it.”

He spends time comforting her until she falls asleep against his chest. And after gently lying her head on the pillow without waking her, Bucky stares at her, crying quietly. He presses his flesh hand over her flat stomach a long moment, wishing and hoping that maybe he got it right this time…

                                                     PRESENT DAY

           Despite how much she hates being pregnant, Bucky can’t stop looking at Cherise and taking photos of her. He never would have thought she’d be coming to term for a second time. She pushes her hands up to shroud her face.

           “Damn it, James—I said no more photos,” Cherise explains in exasperation.

           “Please,” Bucky begs, “You look so beautiful right now. You don’t even know.”

           “I look like a balloon, James.”

He grins. At almost seven months pregnant with their son, Bucky knew Cherise’s energy wasn’t going to last the entire day, but Christina had really wanted to go apple picking as a family after having done it in school as a field trip, and neither Cherise nor Bucky planned on letting her miss out on that.

           “What about this one, mumma?!” Christina calls ahead of them, picking up an apple that had fallen on the ground. The fall wind whips Cherise’s hair out of her eyes long enough for Bucky to get a perfect shot of her face as she gazes in the direction their daughter had started running.

           “No running, peanut—there’s other people picking apples!” Cherise calls. But she doesn’t bother to run after the six-year-old. She hasn’t the energy. Bucky laughs as the child comes running back to them with a bright red apple in her small hands.

           “Very red, baby girl,” Cherise explains, taking the apple from her, “This one will go very well in a pie.”

Christina claps and smiles up at her mother, very proud of herself. She always basked in the light of Cherise’s approval. It made Bucky smile. Cherise places the apple into the growing bag he’s carrying with his bionic limb. Christina grabs Cherise’s hand and starts to lead her ahead.

           “Don’t forget the bag, daddy,” she explains, pausing to look back at him and make sure he still has it. Bucky laughs, “I got your apples, baby. Don’t worry.” Christina flashes her father a smile and he whips his phone out of his pocket again to photograph the trio walking together. The true apples of his eye.

[spicymayo1983]

Hiya. This is part 2. You've graduated from flight school and eager to take your relationship with your now former instructor to the next level.

Warnings, porn with a plot, smut, light domination, graphic descriptions of female receiving oral sex, unprotected sex, not for anyone under 18 because this one is XXX steamy but still soft. Lol.

Chapter 2: The graduate

You were frustrated sexually, and a bit perplexed, at why Poe abruptly called an end to your intimate encounter.

Poe walked you home. When you arrived at your dorm you punched him lightly in the arm and told him with a slight laugh,

"You're terrible, you know that, right?"

"Technically what we did wasn't sex". Poe teased, as he slipped his arm around you. "I had to stop myself before I went further".

"You wanted to go further? Didn't you?" You pressed on, smiling a little.

"Truthfully I wanted to grab you and bend you over my desk". Poe confessed, as an irrestible, rogueish smile appeared on his gorgeous face. "But if we got caught it wouldn't be good for either one of us".

"Then why pursue me, then?" You replied back, your smile getting bigger.

"Because I'm crazy about you". He answered back quickly, his smile fading a little and the look on his face becoming softer, more sincere. "You bring out so many feelings in me, feelings I haven't felt for years".

"Oh Poe". You told him as you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. "I feel the same way too".

The two of you shared a lingering, passionate kiss amongst the dark shadows.

You didn't want to say goodbye to him. But at that moment in time you had to.

When you went upstairs you were surprised to see your roommate, Liz, home so early. Usually she was at her job at the cantina.

"Why are you home so early?" You ask with a nervous laugh.

"I got fired". Liz told you with a deep sigh. "Long story short there was an incident with a wookie, I don't want to talk about it".

"I'm sorry to hear that". You tell her as you give your friend a supportive hug.

"Nah, it's no biggie". She told you with a slight laugh. "Where have you been?"

"I had to stay after class and help Mr. Dameron with something". You told your friend as your face turned slightly pink.

"Uh-huh, I can imagine". Liz teased with a slight laugh. "So when is the wedding?"

"Our relationship isn't like that". You reply defensively, your smile fading. "He's my mentor, and teacher".

"I can see the way he looks at you, he's smitten". Your friend continued, her smile getting bolder. "Good for you, he's Poe fucking Dameron".

Her words make you burst into laughter. You've known each other since you started college and became fast friends.

She was studying X wing repair and you were going to become a pilot.

Like you, she was set to graduate next week. You were hoping that she would stay on D'Qar after graduation.

She was like a sister to you, your best friend in the entire galaxy.

Before you realized it graduation day was here. You had graduated at the top of your class and had been assigned to the black squadron.

After giving your speech you sought out your mother and with tears in her eyes she congratulated you.

Life wasn't easy growing up with a single mother. Your father had died from an illness shortly after you were born.

Your mother worked hard to support you and to make sure that you got an excellent education.

There were days when you didn't have enough food and your clothing was ill fitting and ragged.

The struggles of your childhood only fueled your ambition more.

Poe admired that ambition, and how you climbed out of poverty to the top.

You were a strong woman and he loved that. You could even say that he admired you (even though he likely wouldn't admit it, his flyboy ego wouldn't allow that).

After the ceremony Poe treated you to a special dinner at a nice restaurant.

"You didn't have to do this". You told him with a genuinely embarrassed smile.

"It was my pleasure, y/n". He told you as he gently caressed your hand. "You deserve this, and then some, I'm so proud of you".

Poe looked impossibly handsome in his general's uniform. His curly hair looked neat yet still somehow untamed at the same time. You wanted to lean over and run your fingers through it so badly, just imagining the feel of the soft ringlets made you shudder in delight.

The mere thought of what Poe was going to do to you that night was also conjuring a flurry of X rated thoughts to race through your mind.

After dinner the two of you returned to his quarters, where you would have more privacy.

"I'm no longer your student and you are no longer my teacher". You purr seductively as you unbutton the first few buttons of your shirt.

With only a wicked smile on his perfect face Poe kissed you, slipping you a little tongue to drive you crazy.

He pushed your back against the wall in a gentle yet still forceful manner (to once again remind you who was in charge).

You loved the subtle, light dominance that he asserted over you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and enjoyed a steamy makeout session. You could feel the warmth, and hardness, of his manhood against your own body.

You were craving him physically as you rubbed yourself against his body. You felt like the lower half of your body was throbbing in anticipation.

Poe could sense this too by the urgency in your movements. You weren't being subtle and it was driving him wild. Essentially you were dry humping him.

"You couldn't be more obvious, babe, your body is telling me what you want". He whispered into your ear. "But I want to eat you out again first, to get you ready for me".

"You just like the taste of my pussy". You whisper back as Poe began to kiss and nibble your neck.

"Oh gods yes". He replied quickly, with absolutely no hesitation. "You are beautiful, and delicious, I could lap you up all night".

Poe carried you into his bedroom, still wrapped around his body.

He gingerly placed you on his bed and began to undress you carefully, almost like he was unwrapping a present.

You were wet and fully aroused, your body was absolutely starving for his cock.

When he removed his own clothes you were struck by how drop dead gorgeous his smooth, tanned body was.

Poe had a fat cock too, that was in perfect proportion to the rest of his body.

Everything about him was lovely. His skin even felt smooth and soft next to yours.

You were amazed by how soft his hands felt as he lovingly explored, massaged and caressed every inch of your body.

You felt like he was worshipping your nude form, the beauty of what was before him had caused the dominant, cocky flyboy to melt away.

It was clear that Poe didn't want to fuck you hard and rough, he wanted slow, soft lovemaking instead.

He wanted to take his time to enjoy you, like a delicious meal he wanted to savor your body.

You felt like you could cum from his touch alone.

As Poe cupped your breasts with his hands he began to suck on each of your hard nipples.

The air was thick with the scent of your nude bodies and hormones. Every gentle caress and tender kiss showed you how much affection this beautiful man truly had for you.

As you reclined on your back Poe gently spread your legs open and as he carefully massaged your outer lips he began to lick your wet inner ones as the tip of his nose rubbed against the head of your engorged clit.

You couldn't control yourself anymore and the moment he penetrated your vagina with his tongue you gushed warm fluid all over him with a low, primal moan.

"I'm so sorry!" You immediately apologized, feeling embarrassed for a moment.

"No, no, don't". Poe told you with a slight laugh. "I want to see if I can make you do that again, only on my cock".

He kneeled between your spread legs and as his strong hands grasped your ankles he carefully penetrated you with his bare cock.

Your body felt filled and stretched to the max by his impressive girth. The skin on skin contact allowed you to feel every vein on his rigid cock.

You frantically rubbed your clit with one hand, causing your already tight muscles to clamp down on Poe.

"Fuck". He moaned as his eyes rolled back into his head a little. "You're strangling me".

Poe began to slowly thrust into you. Your body was tingling and he felt incredible inside of you. Like the rest of him his cock was simply perfect.

"Can I?" Poe asked with a deep groan.

You knew what he was asking. He wanted to cum inside of you.

"Of course". You replied with a moan.

His thick seed filled you to the brim. So much so when he pulled out you began to leak. Poe pulled you close to him and began to kiss and nibble on your neck.

His recovery time was quick. In a half hour he was ready for round 2.

The two of you continued this cycle, foreplay, sex, a brief break, all night long and into the next morning.

The two of you were snuggled intimately into each other's arms in a naked, sweaty heap. Poe had pumped you full of what felt like gallons of his thick cum, it was a good thing you were on reliable birth control.

Sexually you couldn't get enough of each other. Poe was extremely virile, and insatiable.

You finally fell asleep at 7 AM, with the sun shining brightly. It was almost 3 in the afternoon when Poe woke you up with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

You had fallen into a sexually induced coma and had enjoyed a deep, relaxing sleep. Your entire body felt relaxed.

"You're still terrible, Poe Dameron". You teased with a slight laugh as your eyes fluttered open.

"Why is that?" Poe asked with a slight laugh as he caressed your cheek.

"You're terrible for making me feel this good". You replied as you burst into laughter.

End of chapter 2

[papatonyinsandiego]

Non-Verbal Communication, Part Two:  Distancing Mechanisms and External Validation

Part One Can Be Found Here...

Pretty Privilege

In the gay Leather/Kink/Fetish community, just as in any other culture or subculture, there are the “👍 WINNERS! 👍” and the ….losers…  

Are we all sick of that?  I sure am.  My experience is that 100% of gay kinky men are done with being judged on externals that we have no control over.

It’s a primate-ape fact of life that desirable features make us more fuckworthy.  They can also be a trap.  I want to talk about it from the other side.  Pretty Privilege DOES exist in our Tribe.  I have made use of it myself.  

Back when I was young, virile and FINALLY getting a lot of approval from men, I attended a lot of five-star, crowded “elite” parties, both clothed and naked.  It felt GREAT to be “New Meat” and highly-desirable.  

If the gloriously beautiful men around me were bitchy and insecure, then I guessed I would try that on for a while.  I got way too good at it.  I am ashamed of my behavior back then.  A lot of the virtuous acts that I have performed since those days are my atonement for how I fell into bad behaviors for a while.

After a while, though, I noticed something odd.  The vast majority of men in my life had no interest in who was inside the pretty exterior.  I realized that I was just a mobile dildo to that crowd.  

In fact, I got picked-on if I stepped out of bounds in some way.  It was like trying to balance on a tightrope of other peoples’ expectations.  Fall off, and you would never get back on.  It was conditional approval.

The clincher for me occurred after a big fuck-party, when I showed up at Sunday brunch in a Hawaiian shirt, flip-flops and shorts.  My brunch companions refused to eat with me, unless I changed back into full black leather.  That was the last time that I associated with them, and with that subculture.  I happily stepped into a much, much slower lane.

At age 25, I gave up using my privilege at others’ disadvantage.  I chose a different path of seeking real and useful wisdom.

Assertions And Declarations

I assert that I am more than what you can see.  

There are depths to me that are worth knowing.  

I am an amalgam of many flavors, good and bad.

I am not just a single, obvious musical note.  I am a symphony.  

I assert the same about YOU.  There is majesty, worth, and a valuable contribution to the world inside all of us.  I take that attitude with me wherever I go, treating everyone as my favorite brother or sister.  I am rarely disappointed.

External Validation

Being given approval of any kind is delightful, so we work hard to get more of it.  We can spend thousands of hours every year, pumping up bigger and bigger muscles.  We can have our teeth straightened and whitened, along with hair-removal and spray-tanning, $3,000 leather outfits, and darkening that gray beard.

We may have experiences of all of those attributes and many more.  They can bring on flattering and pleasurable reactions, and allow us to “win” on some level.

No matter what, sooner or later, the crash arrives.  Age, sudden disasters, infirmity and gravity work against our following the same path forever.  That’s when we will be needing the emotional growth that we may have allowed to dwindle while we were otherwise occupied.

To this day, I still go to the gym several times a week, but I ALSO work on my social skills, and provide value to my circle of true friends.  My biggest struggle is with humility.  I’m still trying to figure that one out, and I am open to suggestions.

Distancing Mechanisms

The other side of that same coin has to do with keeping others at arm’s length.  Let’s start with WHY we would want to protect ourselves from others.

We are all born perfect, trusting and uninhibited.  We learn to be otherwise, when we receive wounds along the way:  

• “NO, STUPID!  The OTHER way!”  “People think that I’m stupid?”

• “Don’t talk to me, ugly!  Take those big ears somewhere else!”  “What’s wrong with my ears?”

• I’ll give you something to cry about!”  “It’s bad for me to cry?”

These wounds cause us to make decisions that we hang on to, long after they have become obsolete.  We may use ever-growing musculature to keep others at a distance. Or five layers of leather. Or whatever else helps us to keep possibly stressful interactions at arms’ length.

Those same predicaments can also create new, pleasurable possibilities, but we have to be OPEN to that idea in the first place.  

Cynicism protects our tender hearts, but it can also prevent us from noticing when the Real Breakthrough Opportunity shows up.

One decision that I still struggle with can be expressed as “I’m not going to let you reject me.  I reject you FIRST!”  That’s on a very deep, early level, but I am not being driven by it so much any more, now that I consciously recognize it.  Eventually.  I no longer feel that my foot is nailed to the floor, while I go around and around the same problem, doomed to repeat it.  Therapy helped.

I now laugh about my flaws as a personal foible.  At that point, I clean up my mess:  “Oh, there I go again.  Sorry.  I am glad that I caught myself.  My anger does not belong to you.  I’m not doing that any more.  Let’s start over.”

Attitude Queens with a Capital “A”

So when you see that gorgeous man who seems to have everydamnthing going for him, moving through the crowd with a fixed look on his face that says “Don’t bother me,” spare him some loving sympathy.  He is just as damaged as you are, despite external appearances.  He’s just expressing it in his own way.

He’s lonely too.  He is misunderstood.  He struggles with finding unconditional love and deep friendship, just like anyone.

If I see somebody who is broadcasting on that channel, I get right past his defenses, 99% of the time.  I do it by treating him as a good-hearted man, with value as a possible friend.  Like any human being, he is starved for honest respect and affection.

Our Brains React Differently With Objects of Desire

Recent MRI-scan tests have shown that our mental processes change radically when we meet a politician, a celebrity, or a porn actor.  We put them on a mental pedestal.  Star-Fuckers, World’s Biggest Fans and Celebrity Stalkers can be a real chore for someone who just wants to walk down the street unmolested.

Think of the porn actor who is making some extra money as a go-go dancer on an elevated box at a big dance-party.  He has drunks pawing at him like he was a piece of meat.  They are making his privates very public.  No matter how much he can rationalize this (”It’s all part part of the J-O-B”), he can also get pretty tired of it.  Feigning enthusiasm can be a tedious chore.

That's why I always do one, specific behavior with every go-go dancer:  I bring him some ca$h to stuff into his shorts, but I only do it in the area between his hip and his dick.  I am not going for the gold.  I smile in an honest, happy way, look him in the eye, and tap my cheek with two fingers.  He smooches me on the cheek, and throws his arms around me with honest pleasure.  I take that chance to express some honest compliments about his dancing, and then we disengage affectionately.

I gave him a Warm Fuzzy - A moment of sweet, honest human interaction.  As a result, I am loved and respected by that man, forever afterward.  I looked for the good in him.

The Calendar-Signing Party

I attended an event that turned out to be well-stocked with extremely handsome, muscular men.  They were in town to promote a charity calendar, and I was politely interested in knowing more.

After about an hour, a man came up to me.  He was the husband of the calendar’s creator, and he was curious to know more about me.  He had watched me speak to every one of the calendar models, and had noticed that they all dropped their shields around me in seconds, and were at their ease.  They didn't feel the need to be “on” with me. They all hugged me, as their own idea.  I almost never ask for hugs.  I prefer to earn them.

I get a lot of hugs.

The Bottom Line

The point that I am belaboring is that we can rise above our easy and obvious biases.  We can choose to let go of physical external appearance as a point of reference.  Those are just what we can see.  If we open up our own hearts to the possibility that somebody is a good man, then he may pleasantly surprise us.

I am VERY rarely disappointed.

[expressionisfree-blog]

Do We Need Beauty?

As suggested by the eloquent “Is Beauty Wrong?” post, there can be no doubt on one’s mind that our world of photoshop, plastic surgery and Victoria Secret Shows is obsessed with obtaining physical perfection. The tabloid- induced frenzy over reality television stars such as the Kardashian family and the continued popularity of beauty pageants such as “Miss Universe” illustrate that rather clearly. However, it can be said that critics of this obviously unhealthy view of the human body tend to go too far, insisting that beauty should have no value in society at all and that even a parent telling their young daughter that she is “beautiful” will damage her self- esteem beyond repair in the future.

When did the word “beauty” become laden with such negative connotations? Modern society is trying so hard to distance itself from the concept to the point that calling someone “beautiful” is an insult in itself; a terrible objectification in the form of a compliment. Something that struck me upon reading was a line in “Everyday Feminism” magazine. In her article, Erin Tatum states, “If the first thing you say to a woman is something about her looks, we’ve got issues”. This line was directed specifically at men, insinuating the persistently perpetrated cultural myth that it is only men who comment on the physical appearances of women, while feeling perfectly secure in their own image. 

However, research has found that it is men who worry about their body appearance in significantly higher numbers than women. A Dr. Phillipa Diedrichs, from the Centre of Appearance Research at the University of West England, found that “men have high levels of anxiety about their bodies and that some resort to compulsive exercise, strict diets, laxatives or making themselves sick in an attempt to lose weight or achieve a more toned physique.” The study determined the root of the problem to be “body talk”; three out of five men stating that comments made about their physical appearance had affected them negatively.

As a society then, we should decline from talking obsessively about “ideal” body types so to prevent men and women from feeling inadequate and damaging their health and well-being. Magazine publications particularly have a responsibility to cease boasting “self-love” and “self-acceptance” articles while publishing headlines like “Look Leaner” and “Slim is Sexy” alongside them. The self-contradiction found in women’s magazines especially is laughable and must change if we are to reverse the startling lack of self- esteem and worthlessness felt by people of both sexes today.

However, can one say that beauty, therefore, is wrong? Being attracted to and admiring what is aesthetically pleasing, impermissible?

Throughout history, humankind has always been drawn to what is pleasing to the senses. Ancient civilisations worshipped the beauty found all around them in nature. The idea of a nature deity ruling the seasons, the biosphere and indeed the universe can be found at the root of many belief systems such as theism, polytheism, animism, shamanism and paganism. In Celtic paganism, for example, many of the gods and goddesses were connected to seasons, plants and animals. Cernunnos, the “wild god of the forest” symbolised fertility and masculinity.  It is interesting to note that foliage and the greening of the earth was associated with masculine beauty and virility, while springtime symbolised the feminine goddess of love and beauty, Branwen. As the spring and the earth becoming green are intrinsically linked, so too are the masculine and feminine. Neither can claim higher importance; they complement one another as equals. Similarly, one cannot compare a sunset to a starry night, the vastness of the oceans to the majesty of the mountains.

This outlook on beauty is what I think our society has missed in either obsessing over or demonising the concept. Humans have not changed much since the Celts in their attraction to what is aesthetically pleasing. We are still in awe of the vibrant reflections of trees and sky on a shimmering lake, the soft features of a new-born child, the eyes of one we love, the constellations on a cloudless night. There is nothing wrong with us for admiring that which is vibrant, colourful, symmetrical or startling. We cannot be condemned for calling a red sky in the morning more beautiful than a garbage disposal; ergo, we cannot be condemned for considering one person more attractive than another. Everyone, without exception, will regard some people more beautiful than others. There lies the dilemma with aesthetics. The word itself derives from the Greek word “aisthetikos,” directly translating to “a sense of perception”, meaning beauty and ugliness is subjective and no two people have the same perception of the world and those around them.

Throughout literature, descriptions beauty has been linked closely with love and sexual attraction. Ideal and fashionable body types have changed drastically over time and across cultures, but what hasn’t changed is how perceived attractiveness differs from individual to individual and how in the process of falling in love, or indeed in the process of getting to know a person, our perception of the person in question changes. This is illustrated magnificently in Jane Austen’s masterpiece, “Pride and Prejudice.”

 When Mr. Darcy sees his future wife for the first time, he looks upon her with haughty disdain. He glances at Elizabeth and says coldly, “she is tolerable; but not nearly handsome enough to tempt me.” (Austen, 3.14)  At first glance, Darcy sees an average-looking young woman with no note-worthy features. Austen does not describe the well-loved character of Lizzy as a woman with a figure to die for, dazzling eyes or long luscious locks. Instead, the author states, “she had a lively, playful disposition” and indicates that she is the most socially aware and quick-witted of all her sisters. When Darcy becomes more acquainted with Elizabeth, exposing himself to her vivaciousness and wit, he “believed he should be in some danger” of falling for the young woman and finds himself struggling to keep his eyes off her as the novel and their relationship progresses.  By chapter ten, Darcy admits to himself that he “had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her” and later states, “I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance”. Elizabeth’s beauty went beyond her physical attributes. Indeed, her features only became “handsome” after Darcy had seen her strong personality, kind disposition and adventurous spirit.

A woman’s beauty cannot simply be found in the size of her waist, the length of her hair or the colour of her eyes. It is the effervescence the glimmer in her eye suggests, the energy of her stride, the brilliance of her mind and the passion in her voice. One cannot always pin- point what they find so attractive about a person. They may possess features that the beauty industry deems “plain”, yet simultaneously seem surrounded by an electricity, an irresistible energy that draws people in. This idea is explored in Maya Angelou’s dynamic poem, “Phenomenal Woman”.

Angelou begins the poem by acknowledging that both men and women can’t seem to grasp what makes her so special, “Pretty women wonder where my secret lies (1) / Men themselves have wondered what they see in me (30)”. She is does not meet any of society’s beauty standards, “I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model size” (2). Nevertheless, men swarm around her like a “hive of honey bees” (20), and the “pretty women” (1) demand to know how she does just that. Angelou insists throughout the poem that it is her very essence as a woman that makes her “phenomenal.” Her feminine shape, “the span of my hips/ the curl of my lips” (7-9) and her enthusiasm and lust for life, “the fire of my eyes/ The swing of my hips, the joy in my feet” (22-24) is what makes her so alluring to everyone around her. Her womanhood is empowerment. Her entire being, her mind, soul and body, beautiful.

Lord Byron furthers this idea of beauty going beyond individual physical features (over a century before Angelou) in his poem, “She Walks in Beauty.” (Byron, line 1) Byron manages to describe the woman subject of the poem without relating exactly how she looks. Instead, he brings the woman and the concept of her beauty to life as a living, breathing person, suggesting in the first line that the elegant movement of her body, the energy in her step, is what he finds breath taking about her. Natural imagery of a “starry skies” (2) is used to try to put into words how utterly amazing this woman is. The “night” (1) of her mind and conscience is “cloudless” (2) and clear. He admires her for her “heart whose love is innocent” (18), her goodness reflected in the interaction of darkness and light in the first and second stanza. The perfect judge, she can see beyond the binaries of good and bad, balancing instead “the best of dark and bright” (3). This wisdom she possesses is reflected in her eyes, and “lightens o’er her face” (10). Rather than producing superfluous lines describing how delicate and perfect the shape of that face, he simply calls it the “dear dwelling place” (12) of her “sweet” thoughts. Byron is more concerned about the capabilities of her “mind” and her kind actions in “days of goodness spent.” (16) 

Byron rejects the notion of the woman as a “living doll” worth nothing more than her appearance, instead relating how taken he is by this woman’s beauty. He refers to her elegance, grace, sense of morality, mysterious mind and countenance of calm and contentment expressed through her movements and expressions. He is completely intrigued by her and struggles to work her out exactly. Unable to relate his sentiments properly, his description of a “nameless grace” must suffice both he and the reader as he fails to put his finger on exactly what she is, choosing to admire the lady instead.

In her Parenting article, mother Jessica Offer demands that “even if you think she’s beautiful,” not to tell her daughter that we think so. Her reasoning that of “her beauty lies far beneath what your eyes can see.” Is this in itself not a  contradictory statement to make? I then can only pose the question: If her beauty exists both within and without, shouldn’t one compliment her on that?

Children should be encouraged to take pride in the face and physical features that make them unique, idiosyncratic and set apart from others as well as the inner traits that make them people of integrity and value. Perhaps then they can grow up to be well- rounded citizens and friends who strive to better themselves and others, so they too can “walk in beauty” and contribute to society in a meaningful way. 

-Bernadette Harkin- 

                                           Bibiography

Offer, Jessica, “Don’t tell my daughter she’s Beautiful”, Kidspot, August 11th 2016. Web.

Tatum, Erin “Don’t Call me Beautiful”, June 17th 2014, Everyday Feminism, web. Accessed 20th November 2017. 

Campbell, Dennis, “Body Image concerns more men than women, study finds”,  Friday 6th January 2012, The Guardian, 2012. Web. Accessed 22nd November 2017.

Wigington, Patti, “Gods of the Celts,” Thought Co.  April 27th 2017. Web. Accessed 25th November 2017. 

Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice: Whitehall, 1813. T. Egerton. Print.

Angelou, Maya. “Phenomenal Woman,” Phenomenal Woman: Four Poems Celebrating Women: New York, 1995. Print.

Byron, Lord “She Walks in Beauty”, The Classic Hundred Poems (Second Edition). New York: Columbia University Press, 1998.

[forcedapotheosis-blog]

Gloomy Days VII

“I do not know what makes a writer, but it probably isn't happiness.” - William Saroyan, The Bicycle Rider In Beverly Hills

Disclaimer: One Piece and its characters do not belong to me.

Chapter VII – The Graceless Knight / Two Minutes To Midnight

This is it. How it’s going to end. Goodbye, my dreams, my family, my love. I could never have imagined that this would be the tragic extent of my failings. The woman said that I’ve arrived at the crossroads, and my actions could change the course of things, but the only way to win this game is not to play at all. Just .. just let it be over quickly.

After the conversation at the bar, his mind was torn apart. The moment he went there to talk to the mysterious woman, he had already decided to take whatever was coming head on. But she, that woman, whoever she was, had managed to make things more complicated. She had shown him a tiny spot of hope, but in truth, she just led him to an even higher cliff to jump from. There could be no hope in this wonderful hell-hole. No hope at all. After taking his seat on the side of the bride, as far away from his former crew mates as possible, he was left with his own thoughts again. Struggling not to care, fighting his inner demons in a last, defiant stand. One that he was about to lose for good.

What has become of me? I can’t even look them in the eye. Chopper .. Chopper even seems to be afraid of me. Am I really that broken of a man? Vestigial in all but outward appearance? I need to leave this place as soon as the ceremony is over. Can’t take it anymore. Memories are a terrible thing, and I remember everything. Every tear she cried, every night of drunken stupor to numb the pain of leaving her behind. If I had known that the way would lead me here, I .. I might have ended it all. Me being .. just being, is no more good to anyone, least of which to her.

He finally forced himself to look around for a moment. On the side of the groom, he could see no familiar faces. On Nami’s side though, all of their former nakama had arrived, at least those that could make time for the event. Those that were still alive. If he hadn’t known it better, he might have thought that denial could be found in all their faces. What they denied, he did not know. Maybe him being here? Some of them had already left when he clashed with the swordsman and had to flee from the love of his life. Word, though, travelled fast and far. He was sure that they knew about all the things that had transpired. He was sure that they knew how much he hurt Nami on their last day, and even if they found it in their hearts to forgive him, he could never do.

I’m sorry that you wasted your time, madame. After you left me at the bar, I felt invigorated. If even for a moment, I saw a chance that it just might work out. But moments vanish like summer rain. I will not do it, I can not do it. This is Nami-san’s chance for a good life, a wonderful life even. She will have security, she’ll be a wonderful mother, she might even have true love. What could I offer to her that’s worth more? Nothing. I’m a broken man, unable to give her anything but more wounds on her soul. She was so wonderful .. she .. she might have loved me. Why did I ever leave her behind?

Mere thoughts alone did not have the power to change the world. And after tens of thousands of words, the clock finally struck the hour and the band began to play the wedding march. Heads were turned in the supposed direction the bride was coming from and voices were raised in collective awe.

She .. oh my god .. Mere words and thoughts failed Sanji at the sight he was given.

Even at the worst, the most stygian of days, the red-haired goddess that went by the name of Nami was a light in the darkness. Even when the universe seemed uncaring and ignorant of humanities insignificant existence, even the most callous of beings must have felt the heat that she was radiating. If mankind ever ceased to exist, if only one human being should remain as the precursor for its renewal, it should have been her. In the light of this angel - no -, this goddess, mankind should be reborn. When Sanji talked to the mysterious woman at the bar, he thought that she might have been the most physically perfect being he ever witnessed. Now, all thoughts about her were forgotten. The bar for human perfection had been raised. No one could ever be her equal, a bride fit for the progenitor of all the things that men looked upon and felt tenuous.

He was paralysed with awe. Senses went numb and even if he had tried, he wouldn’t have been able to battle down the thought that pictured himself as the groom, not the man who was waiting for her at the altar. Dying wouldn’t have been half bad right now, gaze set upon the most beautiful sight that he could ever think of. Unfortunately for him, the story didn’t end here and a silent death was too easy a way out.

After a moment that seemed like an eternity in the light of the celestial plains, his mind returned and he was able to witness the shock that went through the groom’s side of guests. Shock, murmur and whispers became prevalent were awe had been just a moment before. It took him a surprising amount of time to find the source of it, and when he did, his heart stood still a second time, the mind that was racing to show him pictures of what could have been came to an abrupt stop.

“Is that ..”, he focused to understand the whispers.

“Yes, it’s him!”

“I thought he died?”

“This cannot be. Absolutely not!”

“Is this a crude joke?! What an impudence!”

“I vividly remember his wanted poster, it’s definitely him!”

“Her father is the infamous Strawhat Luffy?!”

“The son of the Dragon?!”

“Was she a member of the Revolutionary Army?”

“No, idiot, he was a pirate. Does that mean that she was one, too?”

“That’s enough of a reason to stop the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Cassian seems to be perfectly comfortable, maybe he knew?”

“Might be that she was forced to stay with the Strawhats. It might not be her fault.”

Cassian .. the cook’s eyes moved to the altar and focused on the groom.

He indeed seemed to be the very embodiment of serenity, as was befitting his overall appearance. Sanji couldn’t deny that he was a handsome man. Not tall enough to be towering over everybody else, but it was still an impressive size, possibly around 1,88m (around 6ft2), his dark brown hair was combed back to not take away anything from his face. His cheek bones were clearly visible and his broad, distinctive chin was radiating virility and masculinity, even more so because he was cleanly shaven. His eyes might have been the real catch for the ladies, though. They were of a lighter tone of brown and perfectly comfortable with reflecting the smile he had on his lips. When everything else about his face said that this man was better than his peers, these eyes made him approachable, friendly, gave him the look of a caring man, the ideal partner.

I want to hate him. I really do. But .. he knows about her past. He knows that she was a pirate under our captain and he doesn’t care. Even in front of his friends and his family, he doesn’t care. Oh, I want to hate him ..

Moments passed and somewhere along the line, the murmurs subsided. The guests saw that the groom was comfortable with this show of affiliation and, at least for now, went with it. Meanwhile, Sanji was finally able to avert his gaze from Nami for more than a few seconds and he began to examine the clergyman or whatever he was, who as accompanying the groom at the altar. Or is it his best man? I really can’t tell. As he would soon find out, his first assumption was right. The long-haired man that was standing beside the groom was, indeed, of the clergy. From his clothes alone, no one could have said. Clad in a tailored suit with a red tie, he could have been just another guest. Not a person of consequence, probably. His eye began to wander again, this time coming to a halt when it met his former captain.

Were all these past years just a dream? It’s as if nothing changed, nothing ever happened. Brook’s still alive and we’re on our way towards the next adventure. Back again on the Sunny, living for our dreams alone. No .. no, no. Idiot shitty dreamer, that’s what I am. These days are long gone by. We’re no longer nakama. No longer family, our dreams are buried and forgotten, nothing could ever bring them back. Purpose failed us, fate was no longer on our side. Our bonds are shattered, we’re acquaintances, not family anymore. All of us have our own lives to live. We’re done. Not even seeing him with his greatest treasure again can make it undone. Years of living apart, an eternity of not talking to one another, a lifetime of existing with a broken heart. We’re done, we’re through. She’s getting married and I should be here to support her, yet I cannot. She mustn’t see. She mustn’t see that I’m torn, that it’s killing me to just be here, to see her. All of them must not know. Keep up the act, idiot! Tear your eyes from him, from them. One last act of duty. Be here for her, wish her all the best. She’s happy. She must be happy, will be happy. The most important thing of all. Luffy has his hat again, so what? Maybe it was her request. Just to have the impression of being family one last time until she starts her own. There’s nothing left. The only thing that remains from our shared past are wounds to be tended, lessons to be learned. STOP! LOOKING! AT! THEM!

His mind was screaming as so many memories came back to haunt him. She cried because of him, she cried because she feared that he’d leave her. He didn’t want to, never wanted to hurt anyone. Yet he did, in the cruellest way imaginable. He ran away from her, broke her heart and his own and never tried to mend it. If suffering was the price, he’d gladly pay it. Seeing her with this man was just the beginning of it all, it must have been. Under these white ceilings, she would say ‘yes’ to a man he could not hate. A man that must have been better than him, if only for the reason that he managed to fight his demons instead of giving in to them, whatever they were. Everybody had these demons.

All of a sudden, the bride and her surrogate father had reached the altar. The maiden of honour was waiting to bring the rings. The stage was set, the troupe was ready and as the clergyman began to speak, Sanji felt as if he was finally drunk on all the shadows that his fragile soul carried for so many years.

Dazed, reeling, about to break.

The sonorous voice of the long-haired man filled these opulent halls with ease, demanding attention and silence. Even the erratic energy of the present children was not enough to successfully struggle against it. There was no way to stop all of this from happening, his darkest hour was the hour of her ascension. The heavenly bride was about to be united with a worthy husband. A husband that would not make her cry.

“Honoured bride, honoured groom,

Take a look around. In this decisive hour of your lives, you are not alone. You are surrounded by people who are close to you, who were close to you for years on end. Looking into each and every single face that gathered here, I can say with the utmost certainty that the bonds that run between all of you can be felt, can even be seen.

It is these bonds that make a human lifetime so precious.

Some philosophers say that life has no intrinsic purpose. That the universe is vast and dark and uncaring towards our very existence. But it is their conclusion that the uncaring universe is a good thing. Sometimes it might seem that the Gods are ignorant about humanity’s very existence, as they left their creation in a stygian void.

What better place but this void, though, to struck the match? To bear a blazing star? To make the shadows afraid?

These philosophers might be right, a life might not have intrinsic value, but the greatest gift bestowed on us is opportunity! Where there is no destiny, there are no bounds, no rules. Every life is free to find its own worth in the world. We all find bonds that might last for a whole lifespan and even longer.

This is what keeps all of us alive. This is what’s the most wonderful thing about living without a cosmic purpose, we are free to pursue what’s most important to us. If no one lends us a torch, we are free to find our own. To live the exact life that we are dreaming of.

The indefatigable search for our own, personal purpose, our own dreams and their fulfilment, the bonds forged in fire that accompany us for our whole life. All these things nourish the flame that stands between us and the darkness of the void.

Looking at all of you, honoured bride, honoured groom, dear guests, even the endless void is trembling. Within the uncaring nature of the cosmos, one can see that it’s eternal premise is to drive us apart, as one alone might not always find the strength to stand against the ever-growing darkness. This eternal adversity, though, fosters resilience. Within it, we find the heat that is necessary to temper the bonds we share.

I ask you, all of you: Is there a better way to laugh into the growing abyss’ face, than to be a part of this communion?

We are gathered here today, in the face of this illustrious company, to join together Cassian and Nami in traditional matrimony; an honourable estate, instituted by our forefathers, since the first men and women walked the earth.

Therefore; it is not to be entered inadvisedly and lightly, but reverently and soberly.

Into this venerated estate, these two persons present come now to be joined.

If any one can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

I .. I can. Because I love her more than I love myself. Because she’s worth more than a thousand dreams to me, her eyes are deeper than the All Blue, the Grand Line and all the Blues together are but puddles compared to how vast her heart is. Because she is a goddess, a goddess that needs proper veneration. Because I shall never tire in trying to make her happy. Because I’d gather all the stars in the sky if she just asked for it. Because .. I love her. Truly, madly, deeply. Having known her, I can never, ever fall in love with another woman. Having met her, I know that she’s both the Alpha and Omega to all the things I yearn for. Having known her for so long, I feel that she’s the brightest beacon in an endless night, the most wonderful being in existence. Nothing can ever, will ever be able to compare. I love her. I will never stop loving her, even if it drives me insane. In the reflection of her eyes, I can see myself being reborn into a light I had never known existed. I can not .. even though I have to let her go. Goodbye, Nami-san. I’m yours, forever.

Tears were filling his eyes, blurring his vision. The end was nigh, the words were about to be spoken. Despair filled his heart, breathing became increasingly difficult and death, right in this moment, would have been nothing but relief. His broken heart would never be able to recover. But she would be happy. She was everything that mattered. She would always be everything that mattered. Her smile. May she be happy.  The hour struck midnight. The clouds gathered and unleashed a furious storm. His mind drifted away, may the roaring thunder be the witness of their communion. He was no longer able to control his sobbing, the frail picture of masculinity that he so carefully cultivated throughout his life was crumbling.

He was alone. All alone within an endless void. The one reason to live for was taken away from him, never to be found again. He could not speak, he could not bear witness to their union. Just being here, knowing what was about to happen, tore his heart and mind apart. Desperation and madness took over. There was no hope in this Hell. No hope at all.

The old tales and stories told of heroes that journeyed to Hell and back, emerging victorious. In this moment of perceived clarity, he knew that all of these stories told nothing but lies. One person alone could never emerge unscathed from facing the abyss.

“Yes.”

A female voice. Nami-san .. gods .. she said it. She said yes. All is lost. I should have never come. I'm vermin. Nothing but. I .. I .. I can't take it anymore. No one should be forced to endure a situation like this. All I asked for was forgiveness and love. All I ever wanted was her.

Were men allowed to cry? Were they not? Did anything matter anymore? His uncontrolled sobbing found its climax. He finally broke down and began to weep bitter tears.

The groom's side grew louder as the moments passed. They were happy. He was sure. And no one would ever pay attention to this broken man.

The End.

Or was it?